[John Milton Binckley, June 1859 Travel Diary, page 34. Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing scans of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Johnston Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source. This is my rough transcription. Extra paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading.]
[continued] At the Depot, we have a very good dinner, our drunken friend & his wife & baby still along and a source of amusement to us all, and means of opening agreeable conversations with all. Very fine cucumber on the table. Mother seeing them, demanded them before otherwise served.
Out of tobacco, no time to get. Boy [?] [?], tell him get tobacco, give him a quarter, & tell him hurry off, gets back, all right with tobacco etc.
On our way again. Up the Licking bottoms. Here is a garden, for miles up the creek. Many men and boys line the creek bank fishing, wish I were along.
There stands an old mill. Always an object of my affectionate regard, went to school in one, on way from which, lingered daily till dark, admiring, and amid vines and overgrowth,admiring and exploring another.
Here opens new foliage which has no counterpart East of the mountains. The richest and loveliest, overhanging the limpid water, flattered by their own image mirrored with in thousand ornaments in the stream below. [to be continued.]
[John Milton Binckley (1831-1878).
Mother = Charlotte Stocker Binckley (1788-1877).]
[continued] At the Depot, we have a very good dinner, our drunken friend & his wife & baby still along and a source of amusement to us all, and means of opening agreeable conversations with all. Very fine cucumber on the table. Mother seeing them, demanded them before otherwise served.
Out of tobacco, no time to get. Boy [?] [?], tell him get tobacco, give him a quarter, & tell him hurry off, gets back, all right with tobacco etc.
On our way again. Up the Licking bottoms. Here is a garden, for miles up the creek. Many men and boys line the creek bank fishing, wish I were along.
There stands an old mill. Always an object of my affectionate regard, went to school in one, on way from which, lingered daily till dark, admiring, and amid vines and overgrowth,
Here opens new foliage which has no counterpart East of the mountains. The richest and loveliest, overhanging the limpid water, flattered by their own image mirrored with in thousand ornaments in the stream below. [to be continued.]
[John Milton Binckley (1831-1878).
Mother = Charlotte Stocker Binckley (1788-1877).]
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