"But what was our stupefaction when, at the moment of our arrival at Louisville, we find the Ohio entirely frozen, and our steamboat is forced to stop. The distance of 7 or 8 leagues, which was nothing for our boat, became a very great one for us. They throw us on shore, with our packages, at a small village called Westport. There we find it impossible to get transportation to town. After much looking, however, we succeed in getting a wagon, in which we put our trunks and night bags. This vehicle advances toward Louisville escorted by a driver, and us two. In this fashion we covered our 8 leagues in the snow, along a small path which winds very agreeably through the woods, amid a perpetual succession of mountains and valleys. Nothing is more picturesque for an amateur, but when one is tired the fine undulations of the terrain lose much of their merit.
Beaumont, letter to his mother (Pierson 574)