Hannah Lawrence Schieffelin kept a diary when she and her husband traveled to Quebec and Detroit in 1780–1781. Here is her account of a visit to Niagara Falls which she thought lived up to its reputation as “the greatest effort of Nature.”

I proceeded … by slow and intricate windings up that rugged mountain, and contemplated the native wilderness of the scene through which we passed, till my ears were struck with the approaching sound of the falling torrent, and a sudden shower gave us to know that it could not be far distant, while innumberable isicles shook from the trees, on our heads, at every breath of wind, and were as quickly replaced by the constant succession of vapours condensing on the branches.

A considerable River first appeared, rolling down a gradual descent, and forming with the rapidity of its motion over the broken rocks, as we approached nearer the bank which had been worn away to an amazing depth, we were struck with motionless astonishment at the stupendous object that met our veiw, neither our surprize nor the deafening noise we heard, would admit of exclamation, we therefore stood gazing in silent awe and admiration. The whole River rushing abruptly down a terrific precipice, and rebounding in shattered particles, from the violence of its fall on said rocks, to nearly the height from whence it had precipitated itself. The earth seemed to tremble at the shock, and our sinking hearts corresponded with the idea. …

We prepared to descend [the path] to a level with the River … this with great difficulty, caution and the assistance of poles to prevent slipping we effected. … one of the gentlemen … then led me to a point of the rock that projected out in front of the Fall, from whence I could see the River descend as it were from the clouds, and with my eye follow its course, from its first rushing over the top, till it reached the margin of the stream below. … I grew giddy at the veiw. …

This excerpt is from In the Words of Women Chapter 9, page 263. The image above dates from 1774, a few years before the Schieffelins’ visit. It is an engraving published in London by the artist Richard Wilson, based on a sketch made at the falls by a British artilleryman, Lt. Pierie, in 1768. It is part of the Charles Rand Penney Collection of images of Niagara Falls.

Abigail Adams, writing to her husband in Philadelphia, informs him of a plot uncovered in Boston.

Boston Garison Sepbr 22, 1774There has been in Town a conspiracy of the Negroes. At present it is kept pretty private and was discoverd by one who endeavourd to diswaid them from it—he being threatned with his life, applied to justice Quincy for protection—They conducted in this way—got an Irishman to draw up a petition to the Govener telling him they would fight for him provided he would arm them and engage to liberate them if he conquerd—and it is said that he attended so much to it as to consult Pircy* upon it … There is but little said, and what Steps they will take in consequence of it I know not—I wish most Sincerely there was not a Slave in the province—it allways appeard a most iniquitious Scheme to me—fight ourselfs for what we are daily robbing and plundering from those who have as good a right to freedom as we have—you know my mind upon this Subject…. adieu
My Father hurries me, yours most Sincerely,

* Earl Hugh Percy, British colonel in Boston

This excerpt is from Massachusetts Historical Society, Adams Electronic Archive: Letter from Abigail Adams to John Adams, 22 September 1774.

Anne Hulton accompanied her brother Henry to Boston in 1767, along with his wife and year-old son, when he was named Commissioner of Customs by King George III. It was a dangerous time for agents of the crown, and she wrote richly detailed letters describing instances when the family was forced to flee the city by what Hulton called the “Sons of Voilence.”

But there were peaceful stretches, too, when Hulton’s focus was on cultivating a garden. “We are Farmers,” she writes.

I have studied Gardening here, & by my observation, & experience, have acquired a little Skill, so that I am Director General of the Vegatible Tribe. Tho’ our Farmer is a good common Gardener, yet many things we require, wch are not used to be raised here. We put in the Green house last fall 500 heads of the finest Celery that ever was seen here. I have never seen a Artichoke or Broccoli in this Country, but shall attempt to raise these now…. I have been told that it’s only of late years that Greens or Cabbages have been raised in this Country at all or in any plenty. All Greens or roots are calld by the name of Sause here. As to fruits, Apricots & Necterans are rarieties indeed, but Peaches, Strawberries, & Gooseberries grow wild, yet these, compared with those cultivated in Gardens in Old Engld are in Size as crabs to Apples, & of little value, we have these in Garden cultivated besides currance & rasberries but all scarse wth us, the Birds devouring ’em when ripe.

This excerpt is from In the Words of Women Chapter 1, page 13.

Harriot Pinckney Horry began a “receipt” or recipe book in 1770 two years after her marriage. Hers was a well-to-do South Carolina family with an extensive vegetable garden, farm animals, a dairy … and slaves. Naturally much attention was paid to preserving food, especially meat: salting, drying, and smoking were among the methods in common use. “Potting” was another. This method called for meat to be cooked until very well done and then, using a mortar and pestle, made into a paste to which herbs or spices could be added. The mixture was packed into crocks and covered with fat to keep it from decomposing. It was eaten spread on bread or toast. Potted meats are still around today—think Spam, or canned pet food! The following receipt is one of her mother’s that Harriot included in her book.

To Pott Beef like Venison [ca.1770]
with her mother’s notation “Extreamly good. (My own way)”

Cut Eight Pound of Lean Beef out of the Buttock or any other lean peice into Pound Peices, take six Ozs. salt Peter, half a pint of Peter Salt and as much Common salt and rub the meat well with it and let it lie three or four days, then put it into a stone jarr and cover it with some of its own Brine and Pump Water and bake it, then Pick all the fatt and Skins from it and pound it very fine in a Marble Mortar; as you pound it pour in melted Butter enough to make it very moist, like paste. Add peper and salt to Your tast, and season it high with Spices. Then press it down in your Pot, and cover it with Clarified Butter or Mutton Suet.

This excerpt is from In the Words of Women, Chapter 8, page 228.