… Two days later (on November 27, 1818), Mr. Flint wrote:

Crossed the river Licking in a boat, at a small town called Blue Licks, from the springs in its neighborhood, from which great quantities of salt were formerly procured. The adjoining timber is exhausted, and the salt-works are abandoned.

After coming to a flooded creek, where there was neither bridge nor boat, I waited a few minutes for the mail coach. The road is in several parts no other than the rocky bed of the stream. It also crosses the same creek four or five times. After riding a few miles, I left the coach. There is no great degree of comfort in traveling by this vehicle; stowed full of people, baggage, and letter bags; the jolting over stones, and through miry holes, is excessively disagreeable; and the traveler’s head is sometimes knocked against the roof with much violence. A large piece of leather is let down over each side, to keep out the mud thrown up by the wheels. The front was the only opening, but as the driver and two other persons occupied it, those behind them were almost in total darkness. A peep at the country was not to be obtained.

I lodged at Paris, the head town of Bourbon county. A cotton-mill, and some grist-mills, are the manufactories of the place. The population is considerable. Several of the taverns are large, and, like many of the others in the western country, have bells on the house-tops, which are rung at meals.