On the 23d December we left Augusta, about four o'clock, by moonlight, and the weather pretty cold, in the miserable mail stage, which we had engaged for ourselves. It went for Milledgeville, eighty-six miles distant from Augusta. The road was one of the most tedious that I had hitherto met with in the United States; hilly, nothing but sand, at times solitary pieces of rock, and eternal pine woods with very little foliage; none of the evergreen trees and the southern plants seen elsewhere, which, new as they were to my eye, had so pleasantly broke the monotony of the tiresome forests through which I had travelled from the beginning of December; even the houses were clap-board cabins. Every thing contributed to give me an unfavourable impression. The inhabitants of Georgia are regarded in the United States under the character of great barbarians, and this reputation appears really not unjustly conferred. We see unpleasant countenances even in Italy: but here all the faces are haggard, and bear the stamp of the sickly climate.
To the cold weather which we had for several days, warm temperature succeeded to-day. We were considerably annoyed by dust. Besides several solitary houses and plantations, we encountered two little hamlets here, called towns, Warrenton and Powelton, this last lies upon Great Ogechee river, over which passes a wooden bridge. We stopped at Warrenton. The court of justice is in the only brick house of the place: close by it stands the prison, or county gaol, a building composed of strong planks and beams nailed together. Between Warrenton and Powelton, we had a drunken Irishman for our driver, who placed us more than once in great danger. This race of beings, who have spread themselves like a pestilence over the United States, are here also, and despised even by the Georgians. We travelled again all night; it was, however, not so cold as the nights previous. Towards midnight, we reached a trifling place called Sparta. We were obliged to stop here some time, as the stage and horses were to be changed. We seated ourselves at the fire-place in the tavern. All of a sudden there stood betwixt us, like an evil genius, a stout fellow, with an abominable visage, who appeared to be intoxicated, and crowded himself in behind Mr. Bowdoin. I addressed this gentleman to be on guard for his pockets. The ruffian made a movement, and a dirk fell from his sleeve, which he clutched up, and made off. They told me that he was an Irishman, who, abandoned to liquor, as most of his countrymen were, had no means of subsistence, and often slunk about at night to sleep in houses that happened to be open. Most probably he had intended to steal. We then obtained another driver, whom, from his half drunkenness and imprecations, I judged to be a son of Hibernia, and was not deceived.