[figure description] Page 005.[end figure description]

All this goes to show, what a horrid thing fanaticism
is, when it attains any considerable degree of power.—
In short, the subsequent persecutions, and arbitrary
measures, adopted and pursued, by these people, entirely
alienated from them the only surviving son of this
old gentleman. He embraced the religion of the peaceable
Quakers. His name was Thomas. He died in
the prime of life, and very suddenly, leaving but two
children, both of which were sons. One of them was
called Charles, after his father; the other Thomas, after
himself. Charles was likewise a Quaker. He pursued
the mercantile business with great application and
success. He married the daughter of the wealthy Mr.
F—. She was his only child. By her he had four
children; two sons and as many daughters. Two only
survived him; a son, (myself,) and a daughter. My
mother was likewise of the Quaker persuasion, and I
still have a preference for that religion.

Thomas, his other son, (my uncle,) was younger than
my father, by nine years. He testified great displeasure
at the authority exercised over him, by my father,
and finally eloped on board a British sloop of war, at
the age of sixteen, and went to the East Indies; where,
as we heard, he died. It was reported that he fought
against his native country, in the revolutionary war; but
how true it was, I cannot tell. My father never saw
him afterwards. He was much afflicted at this distressing
circumstance, and never mentioned his name without
a sigh.

My father took a very active part in the revolutionary
war, and was in several engagements; on which account
he was excluded from the society of Quakers. At
the close of the war, he removed to Boston, and continued
to follow the mercantile business.

He was very successful, and even might be called
rich, before I was born, which was in the year seventeen
hundred and eighty-seven. I was his third child.

He had taken several clerks, to assist him in his counting
house. Amongst these, was one whose name was
Hunter, whom my father found in the streets, when a
lad, naked and destitute of friends. His parents were

[figure description] Page 006.[end figure description]

both dead, and he was without friends, and without
money, or property of any description. My father
took him to his house, gave him his breakfast, clothed
him, and sent him to school.

When he was sufficiently qualified to write, and do
business in the store, he was removed from school to
the counting-house; where he conducted himself with
the strictest integrity and application. I have heard
my father say, often, that he was the most attentive
clerk he had.

When he became old enough to do business for himself,
my father, who had often told him he would reward his
good conduct, took him as a partner, and lent him two
thousand pounds, in addition to his share of profits, as
a compensation for his services. He took Hunter's
bonds for the money, payable five years after date.

It was agreed, between him and my father, that he
should remove to New-York, where he remained several
years; during which time, he had risen rapidly in
the world, and still continued a partner of my father.
He made several voyages to Liverpool, in the time, and
supported the character of an upright, active, and persevering
merchant.

He had never paid my father the money advanced to
him, but then he was good for it, and was ready to do
so, at any time.

At the age of seventeen, my father sent me to Princeton
College. An old acquaintance of his father, was
at that time one of the professors, which led him to prefer
that College, to Yale or Harvard. At this seminary,
I made but very little progress. My education had
been too much neglected, in the earlier part of my life;
and now, I had neither talents, application, nor taste,
for literary pursuits. Born to great wealth, I looked
down upon my fellow-students, with contempt. No
doubt, they viewed me in the same light. History, geography,
astronomy, and a very imperfect knowledge of
the Latin tongue, were the amount of my literary acquirements.

At Princeton, I formed an acquaintance with a Mr.
Henry Wilson; the son of a wealthy Virginia

[figure description] Page 007.[end figure description]

planterThis young man was nearly of my own age. We resembled
each other in disposition, temper, and general
principles; but he was greatly my superior in talents,
as well as industry in the prosecution of his studies.
He was liberal, humane, and wholly untainted with
pride or bigotry.

In short, he possessed every virtue, and was free from
every vice. But modesty was his predominant characteristic.
Our acquaintance soon grew up to the
tenderest and most indissoluble friendship, which has remained
to this hour.

In a world like this, where ingratitude, injustice,
fraud, violence, and a thousand other crimes embitter-society,
an acquisition of this nature is the greatest of
all possible blessings. Our acquaintance was merely
accidental, having arose from the circumstance of our
both lodging in the same room.

In the first year, Henry Wilson would often reproach
me for my idleness; and this he would do, in language
replete with reason and gentleness. When the Christmas
holy-days approached, Wilson, with a little persuasion,
wrote an excuse to his parents, and accompanied
me to Boston.

During our stay in that city, our time was filled up
with all sorts of amusement. Balls, plays, sleighing,
and those various amusements which engage the youth
of both sexes, in the winter season, made the time roll
merrily on. But, at length, the day came, when we
were to set out for Princeton.

When we came to take leave, I perceived, for the first
time, symptoms of attachment between Wilson and my
sister. She had just entered her sixteenth year. Her
figure was not striking; it was, however, without defect.
She was tall and slender; danced and sung well;
her complexion fair; her eyes a dark blue. In short,
she was reckoned handsome; and, even at this early
age, had many admirers. But Wilson was a new lover,
and this circumstance has great sway with most females.
In the present instance, however, it was not a
subject of much wonder, the advantages on both sides
being nearly equal.

[figure description] Page 008.[end figure description]

It may not be improper, in this place, to mention
another circumstance, which, though seemingly unimportant
in itself, ultimately becomes the pivot upon
which the incidents in the following sheets revolve.

During my residence at college, my father had taken
a new servant into his family, of the name of Horton.
It appears that he had been recommended to my father,
by Hunter. Although not in want of a servant, he
payed that respect to his friend's recommendation, to
which he conceived him entitled. I did not like this
Horton. He had a dark, gloomy, designing countenance,
touched with slyness and cunning; but, seeing
that he was a favourite with my father, I kept my suspicions
to myself, and set out with Wilson, for Princeton.

CHAPTER II.

[figure description] Page 009.[end figure description]

I had been at Princeton, nearly five months, when I
received a letter from my father, which overwhelmed
me with astonishment and distress. It was as follows:

Dear Charles—So soon as thee receives this letter,
thee will proceed home without delay.—I am ruined!—
All my effects were seized yesterday, to satisfy Clark
& Co. of Liverpool, vs. Burlington & Co. I do not understand
this; I am bewildered; something is wrong
in this business. I did not know that I owed that
house aught, except part of the last importation;
but I know nothing, nor can I do any thing. Haste thee
home with all speed. I am very much indisposed—thy
mother is distracted; we need thy presence and assistance.
The family send their greeting to thy young
friend.

With a heart full of grief, I took leave of Wilson,
and set off the same evening. When I arrived at home,
I hastened to examine my father's books, and soon discovered
that Hunter was at the bottom of this unaccountable
plot. I found that my father had regularly
remitted his share of the payments! Hunter must have
kept it! Hunter must be combined with them! Hunter,
I concluded, was the villain!

But what was to be done, I could not devise; for the
property was to be sold in forty days. The sum required
was enormous—one hundred and eighty-four thousand
pounds, sterling! I was horror-struck! Every
thing we had, must be sacrificed. In this dilemma, we
held a consultation, the result of which was, that I
should take Hunter's bounds, go to him, and collect the
money, if possible, or get what I could; with a view to
save a few necessaries. I was to set out the next morning.
In the mean time, my father called for a candle
and walked into his library. After attempting to console
my mother and sister, whose distress was beyond
description, I stepped into the library to receive the

[figure description] Page 010.[end figure description]

bonds, intending to set out before day. When I approached
my father, he was looking in a small trunk,
seemingly unconscious of my entrance. “The bonds
were enclosed here,” said he, “I saw them not long
ago.” “Can't you find them, father?” “No.” I
proposed to assist him, and, taking the trunk to a table,
I emptied the contents on it, and then examined every
paper, one by one. No bonds to be found. My father's
fortitude entirely forsook him—he fainted. I
called for help, and removed him to bed.

As my father sunk under his misfortunes, my mother
seemed to be inspired with fresh courage. She strove to
reconcile him to this new calamity. “Charles,” said
she, “it is the will of Providence that we should be afflicted:
thee need not be cast down; remember Job.—
Thy family is grown; Charles and Mary can maintain
us; little will do thee and me.”

My sister and myself strove to comfort him. Mary
kissed him, and begged him to remember that he
had enjoyed many years of felicity; and that he ought
to be resigned under his present trials; but he was
mute. Nothing could equal the distress I felt; but this
was not the business, and despondency would avail
nothing.

My suspicion respecting the bonds, fell on Horton.
He had quitted my father, without assigning any reason;
and had left Boston, a few weeks before the property
was seized. Although I had little hopes of succeeding
with Hunter, yet, to gratify my father, who still
retained some opinion of the man, I set out for New-York.
When I made my name and business known to
Hunter, he assumed a haughty distant air, and replied,
“I am surprised at your father,” (raising himself with
unparalleled impudence as he spoke,) “I am surprised,
that he should demand a debt long since paid; but it
is nothing more than I expected.”

He had scarcely uttered the last word, before I seized
him by the collar—“You lie, villain! nor dare to use
such language of my father. You stole the bonds, and
now you deny the debt.” He bawled out, “Murder!
murder!” as loud as he was able. The house was

[figure description] Page 011.[end figure description]

filled, instantly, with people. I attempted to withdraw
from it, but was seized and conveyed before a magistrate.
I began, but too late, to reflect on my rashness.
The wretch, thought I, will swear any thing. I have
no friends here. The horrors of a jail—my father,
mother, and sister—the distress they would suffer, rushed
upon me at once; but I will not attempt to describe
my feelings. Indeed, I was, for some time, insensible;
nor would any one understand me, who has not experienced
misfortunes like this. A calamity, so great, so
sudden, and so unexpected, has scarcely a parallel.

Hunter swore that I entered his house to maltreat
him, and that I would have murdered him, had he not
been suddenly and seasonably relieved. It is scarcely
necessary to add, that I was committed to prison, to
await my trial at the ensuing term of the city court;
which was twelve days hence. I happened to have
money enough to fee a lawyer who visited me in prison,
and very candidly informed me that if the same evidence
was, (as it certainly would be,) admitted in court,
the consequence would be serious. It might be a heavy
fine, and, perhaps, ten months imprisonment.

What was to be done? I felt no concern for myself;
but the affliction of my parents distressed me, beyond
measure. I had written to them on the subject, but softened
the thing as much as possible, without concealing
the truth.

The lawyer asked if no other person was present
when the affray took place. I told him there was a servant-maid,
(as I took her to be,) but what of that?
Hunter would dictate to her. “We will risk it,” said
he, “you cannot be worsted. Say nothing about it,
when you are in court, and I will arrange it.”

Accordingly, when we, Hunter, &c. were called before
the court, I saw my attorney send an officer out,
who soon returned with the servant-maid, whom he interrogated
privately. Hunter was at this time giving
in his testimony, and was unapprized of her being in
court. The attorney managed to keep the servant
closely engaged in conversation, during Hunter's examination,
so that she never heard a word of his evidence.

[figure description] Page 012.[end figure description]

While he was talking with the girl, I noted down the
testimony of Hunter. He stated, that “Charles Burlington
came into his house, fell on him, without speaking
a word; beat him, and abused him with the most insolent
language.”

The girl was then desired to stand forth, and was
sworn

Q. Do you know the prisoner at the bar?

Witness. He came to our house, week before last.

Q. Did you see him enter Hunter's house?

Witness. I opened the door for him, myself.

Q. Did you see and hear all that passed between him
and Mr. Hunter?—If you did, state what it was, to the
court.

Witness. Last Monday week, (this was Friday,) I
was sweeping the front room, I heard a knocking at the
door. I opened it, and this gentleman came in. I asked
him to walk into the parlour. He refused, and asked
if Mr. Hunter was at home. At that moment Mr.
Hunter came in. The prisoner asked him if his name
was Hunter. He answered, “It is.” “I have a letter
for you—I believe from a friend of yours.” He took
the letter out of prisoner's hand, and asked prisoner to
be seated. He looked at the letter, and said, “I am
surprised that your father should send to me for money,
when he has been paid, long since; but it is just what I
expected from a man of his principles.” The prisoner
catched Mr. Hunter by his collar, and called him a villain.
Mr. Hunter cried out, “Murder!” and called for
assistance. Some men that were passing the house, ran
in and seized the prisoner.

Q. Were you present until the prisoner was carried
out of the house?

Witness. I was.

Q. Were you summoned upon the first examination?

Witness. I was not.

Q. Did you see the prisoner strike Hunter?

Witness. I did not.

Q. What were you doing in this front room?

Witness. I was sweeping it, as I told you, before.

The testimony being got through, the charge against

[figure description] Page 013.[end figure description]

me, was ably and splendidly supported, and I gave myself
up for lost. I thought I could see ten thousand devils
in Hunter's countenance; I felt the pangs of a long separation
from my parents;—I felt wretched. But the
attorney who defended me, had proceeded but a short
way in my defence, before I conceived my innocence secure,
and I felt happy.

Those conflicting sensations were the effects of my inexperience,
particularly of courts, and pleadings;—
though I have since learned that Mr. W—, who defended
me, possessed genius, eloquence, and a consumate
knowledge of the law. A trifling fine, was the end of
this mighty matter, and I left New-York.

Upon my arrival in Boston, I found my parents in
the deepest distress, on account of my absence, and confinement.
My father, compelled at last to change his
opinion of Hunter, gave all up for lost. The shock of
this sad reverse of fortune, entirely deranged him; his
vivacity forsook him—he became melancholy, and, in
short, his life was despaired of.

My mother had, by dint of inquiries, whilst I was at
New-York, learned from the servants enough to confirm
the suspicion, that Horton had stolen Hunter's bonds.—
One of them, being out late one night, saw Horton coming
out of the library with a lantern in his hand; but,
thinking he had been sent by his master for something,
never mentioned the circumstance, until it was revived
in his memory by the inquiry for the bonds.

Our situation was desperate. I attempted to borrow
money, but the report that the firm was completely broken,
had spread far and wide—no one would lend. We
therefore awaited our doom in deep melancholy. We had
not even the consolation of a friend—we had many of
them, in our prosperity; but they all forsook us, at the
time we had most need of them.

The day of sale came; the property went for almost
nothing. I purchased a few necessaries for the family;
but they were not long needed.

My father, who had been almost insensible before the
day of sale arrived, died shortly after it; and my mother
survived him only six months. She strove to

[figure description] Page 014.[end figure description]

combat fortune, while my father lived; but, upon his death,
her fortitude forsook her—she gave way to her grief,
and ended her sorrow in death.

A few days before this best of mothers died, she called
me to her, desired me to fasten the door, and set down
by her. After doing as she dictated, she thus addressed
me:—“My dear Charles, I feel that I shall soon
leave this world.” Seeing that I began to weep, she
endeavoured to comfort me—“It is no time to weep,
my son; listen to my advice. Thou hast had a good
lesson from the Almighty; I trust thou wilt profit by it.
He has taught thee, (for it is all his doings,) how vain
and transitory are all earthly things. Thy father has
toiled, and laboured, to leave thee and thy sister an independence;
but this displeased our heavenly Father,
and it has pleased him to blow it away with the breath
of his nostrils. Learn, from this, my son, what empty
bubbles are wealth and honour. Alas! what can they
do, in the hour of distress! But, above all things, my
child, pity and relieve your fellow-creatures, when in
distress—never turn away from the poor; for God hears
their cry, and he will revenge it on thee. Be humble;
respect the widow's tear and the orphan's cry. Remember
that thy days are but very few here; lay up, therefore,
your treasure in heaven, by loving mercy and walking
humbly. Thou need not doubt thy Saviour's ability
to save. Christ has died for thee; therefore thou
canst not be lost; but I warn thee, never boast of thy
piety; keep thy piety to thyself, and let that of others
alone. Never run here, or run there, to hear this or
that great or small preacher. Such is not true Christianity;
but love god and your neighbour. True and
vital religion, says St. James, is not in running to night
and day meetings; it is in succouring the widow and
orphan in their distress, and keeping thyself unspotted
from the world. Have no connection with those people
who are noted for running to church, and nothing else.
I have always found them the most unfeeling, cruel, and
hard-hearted of the human race. They have mistaken,
they have forgot, they have entirely misinterpreted
Christ's precepts. Thou wilt find, my Charles, that

[figure description] Page 015.[end figure description]

those religious bigots have none of the meek, kind, and
loving spirit of Christ; therefore imitate them not. I
have not the presumption to say why this is so; but, I
think it is the fault of the clergy. So long as they can
draw the people to hear them, so long can they rule
them; and if they continue, they will soon be as despotic
as as the Pope, and, perhaps, not half so charitable.
Be not deceived by these cold-hearted, cold-blooded
professors—remember what this wretch, Hunter, has
done. Perhaps he never would have thought of such a
black piece of treachery, had he not become a professor.
I may be wrong, my son; but, if I am, I have Christ
with me, that charity is the foundation and top-stone of
Christianity. For the rest, my child, I cheerfully leave
this world—I am not afraid to die; far from it. I long
to be with Christ. And now I come to the only terrestrial
consideration which interests me, at this awful moment,
and that is thy sister; love her, sooth her, and
comfort her, when I am gone. Distress like hers, my
Charles, will need comfort. I have kept the worst concealed
from her—I could not see her tears. I leave thee
poor and friendless, it is true; but, he who “tempers the
wind to the shorn lamb,” will be thy friend. Trust in
him; he will never forsake thee; and, never, oh, Charles!
never abandon thy sister; she will soon have no protector
but thee.”

My mother spoke with a firm, clear, and distinct
voice, until she came to the last sentence. She then gave
way to her tenderness, for some minutes. I pressed her
hand, the only reply I was able to make.

“I said thou hadst no friends; but God can raise up
friends for thee, my children;—do not be cast down entirely—
only rely upon thy Maker.”

This was the last conversation I ever had with my
mother. I happened to be from home, when she died,
suddenly. When I returned, what was my anguish to
find my mother a corpse, and my sister raving! She
was sitting flat on the floor, her clothes and hair in great
disorder—she was pale, and her eyes red with weeping.
No company was with her, except a few indigent neighhours.
She was insensibly leaning her head on her

[figure description] Page 016.[end figure description]

knees, looking at the fire, exclaiming, “My brother,
oh! he will break his heart.”

“Oh, no,” said I, as I entered the house, “I will
live to protect you, my dear Mary.” She flew into my
arms---not a word was uttered, for several minutes.

Though I have since that day experienced every vicisitude
of fortune, and difficulties that fall to the lot of
but few; yet the bitterness, the heart-rending pangs I
felt, while I pressed my afflicted sister to my breast,
have never been equalled. Those, and those only, who
have experienced similar calamities, will understand my
feelings at that moment;—but I drop the curtain. Lament,
I certainly did; but I did not abandon myself to
despair. I led my sister into another room, and sat
with her during that day. It required all my skill, and
and all my tenderness, not to reconcile her. (that was
impossible,) but to enable her to support her sufferings.

In our prosperity, few families could count a more numerous,
or a more respectable circle of friends; but, where
they were then, I know not—none of them came near
us. Not so Wilson, our friend at college. We had
kept up a regular correspondence from the time I left
Princeton; in consequence of which, he was informed
of our misfortunes. The sympathy and kindness expressed
by this truly great and generous young man,
ought to redeem the human character from that obloquy
which the conduct of too many has cast upon it. In answer
to my letter, in which I disclosed to him this last
sad blow, he addressed me as follows:

Very Dear Friend—Your situation is one that admits
of little relief—nothing but time can heal the wounds of
the heart. But permit me to mingle my tears with
yours—permit me to say that I feel for your sufferings,
and that on a double account; but this is too tender a
subject, and yet I cannot forbear. Dear Charles, forgive
me, for in your breast alone I would repose the secret
of my heart; but I dare not name it—cannot you
guess, oh, dearest Charles? Write to me, quickly, and
let me know. But I am raving—I sat down to console
you, whilst I need consolation myself. I shall see you,
at the end of the term, at all hazards—in the mean time,

[figure description] Page 017.[end figure description]

let me know whether I may dare to hope—you understand
me. Say to your sister, that her sorrows are
mine. You say she weeps incessantly.—Oh, God! tell
her it wounds me to the heart—never again write to me
thus. Dear Charles, you have pierced my soul. Say
something to relieve me.—Accept the trifle I send you,
until you can make it convenient to return it. Do not let
this mark of my eternal regard for you, wound your
delicacy—you know my heart—you know if I were in
your situation, and you in mine, that I would be proud
to give you this proof of our friendship. Know, from
henceforth, that what is mine is yours. Your very distressed
friend,

This letter was of more value to me than the whole
world. I read it to my sister—it cost her a flood of
tears; but from that time her grief seemed to subside.
I saw that the attachment between them was mutual.
When I came to answer Wilson's letter, I asked my sister
what reply I must make to that part of his letter
which evidently related to her, as it was the only thing
in it to which he entreated an answer. Her reply was
perfectly consistent with her situation, and such as I
would have dictated myself: she said that, “had fortune
continued to smile upon her, Wilson would have been
the man of her choice; but, poor and friendless as she
now was, she could not think of accepting a man of so
much worth; that her want of wealth, in a connection
of that nature, would subject her to obligations which
her feelings could not brook; that she was but too sensible
of the honour of his esteem, and thanked him for
his kind solicitude for her happiness.”

This ingenuous declaration of my sister, was highly
gratifying to me, and was precisely the measure that coincided
with my own opinion. I therefore communicated
the substance of her answer to Wilson, and concluded
by asking his advice. I told him, that I must turn my
attention to some calling for support, and begged him
to give me his opinion. For a lawyer, I thought I was
not sufficiently educated—the occupation of a clerk, appeared
my only chance; but something must be decided
on, as there was no time to lose.

[figure description] Page 018.[end figure description]

In the mean time, I sought an asylum for my sister.
In her distress she had been frequently visited by the
family of a Mr. Simpson who seemed to express some
kindness for her. He had two daughters grown, tolerably
agreeable. The old gentleman was also very respectable.
It was finally agreed, that Mary should remain
at Mr. Simpson's, for the present, until I could
make other arrangements for her accommodation.

After disposing of my sister, I collected the small remains
of my father's fortune. It cost me great trouble
and pains to recover small debts, that he had, in his distress,
overlooked. In the whole, it amounted to eleven
hundred dollars, only; which was my whole dependence.
Out of this, my sister was to be supported—I determined,
however, she should lack nothing, if I had to labour
by the day for her support.

While all this was going forward, I received a letter
from Wilson, stating that his father had recently moved
to Rutherford county, in Tennessee, whither he himself
was to go when his time was expired at college; which
would be in the course of three months; that the country
he spoke of was very desirable—that it was rising
fast, in reputation; the soil was rich, the climate mild
and healthy, and the navigation promising every advantage
to be derived from commerce; and finally, that he
would insist upon my accompanying him thither.

I was well pleased with this proposition, telling my
sister that I should leave her in Boston, until I should
visit Tennessee, and provide a place for her in that state,
should her inclination lead her to make it her residence.
I likewise informed her that she was to receive a visit
from Wilson, and at what time.

Having fixed, in my own mind, upon a plan for my
future destination, I felt considerably relieved. My sister
also became more tranquil.

While I was busily engaged in arranging all my little
matters, in order to be ready for my departure by the
time Wilson arrived, I received a letter from Mr. W—,
the attorney who defended me in the prosecution instituted
against me by Hunter. When I left New-York, I requested
Mr. W— to make all possible inquiry into

[figure description] Page 019.[end figure description]

the affairs of Hunter: How he stood in society? Whether
the property, (meaning the store held in partnership
with my father,) was sold? Not having heard from
New-York previous to the death of my father, I addressed
a letter to Mr. W. and empowered him to settle with
Hunter.—The letter just mentiened was the answer.

Sir—Agreeable to your request I waited on Mr.
Hunter and demanded a settlement: he said he was ready,
and forthwith we proceeded to the place where his
books were kept. Upon examining the accounts between
him and your father I am sorry to inform you that he
brings your father in debt. Upon presenting the account
you sent me, he denied the whole; and made use of language
that is useless to repeat to you. I do think myself
that your account is just; but you can get nothing
of Hunter. The property you spoke of was sold a few
days since for the benefit of “Clark & Co.:” therefore
Hunter is insolvent. It is thought, pretty generally,
that the goods were purchased by his friends and with
his own money. You ask of Hunters reputation—he
has hitherto been esteemed an honest man and a fair
dealer; but since your affair, he has fallen very much in
the esteem of the public. It is hinted here that he laid
this plan of treachery when last in Liverpool; the agent
for that house says he failed for the sum for which the
seizure was made. I am very sorry for your situation,
and have no comfort for you but the very poor ones of
patience and resignation. Should you have any farther
commands in this city I will attend to them with pleasure.—
Yours, respectfully, &c.

As this was fully expected I was less afflicted at the
news; I therefore resigned myself to my fate.—The
three months soon rolled round and Wilson arrived in
Boston; after three days we took leave of my sister and
set out for Tennessee. The parting scene between my
sister and us was truly distressing: but I pass it over!
We both promised to write to her often and to come for her
in the course of a year or two, at farthest. We travelled
the usual rout to Alexandria, and there took the stage
to Abbington in Virginia; where we purchased horses and
prosecuted the rest of the journey on horse-back; after

[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]

a tedious journey we arrived at Wilson's father's where
we were joyfully received by the old people. They had
one other son, but he was not at home when we arrived:
he returned, however, the next day. It seems he had
been to the house of a gentleman in the neighbourhood
to whose daughter he was in a short time married.

CHAPTER III.

[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]

Wilson's father was, as I have already mentioned, a
Virginian. I had often heard the Virginians celebrated
for their hospitality to strangers, but this was the first
opportunity within my recollection, I had, of deciding.
Whether the remark be true, or otherwise, I pretend not
to say; certain it is that old Mr. Wilson received me
with the same cordiality and friendship with which he
received his son. I saw no difference: every demonstration
of joy, laughter, tears, and caresses, were lavished
on us, both by the father and the mother. The old gentleman
seemed to be turned of fifty, and his wife proportionably
old; he was all frolic and fun; told us old stories
and would not hesitate to sing a song. The old lady
was all chat and prattle about her geese, ducks, turkeys,
grass-walks, saving seeds, the right time of the
month to give the little negro children worm seed, until
she lost herself in a long dissertation upon the best method
of rearing calves and lambs. Often has she puzzled
me to follow her in tracing the genealogy of the hundred
leaved rose, and various other curious flowers. The
old gentleman took great pleasure in walking over his
grounds and pointing out the qualities of the different
enclosures, and that one thousand con'ills would produce
fo (four) barrels mo (more) “here than it will in Old
Virginia, ah! and tobacco here grows primer.”

He would discuss the method of rearing late and early
colts, and gave me an episode upon the pedigree of the
“sober Irishman,” the name of a celebrated horse which
he then owned. Indeed the whole of these good people's
time and talents were entirely devoted to the
amusement and accommodation of their guests. I was
charmed with this country; it was rich, indeed; it lies
in large bodies uninterrupted by hills, marshes, stones,
or any impediment. Those beautiful plains, the impenetrable
cane-breaks, the numerous smooth, flowing
streams gliding through lofty forests of beautiful timber,

[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]

formed the most delightful regions I ever beheld; and
although I have since seen countries to which this is no
comparison in point of beauty and fertility, yet it left on
my mind, impressions not easily to be eradicated. After
resting myself a week, I proposed to Wilson a ride
to Nashville to see what prospect that town afforded.—
On our way thither Wilson proposed to join me in a
store; he thought he would find little difficulty in persuading
his father to advance the money. This proposal,
though agreeable to my wishes, I informed him
“was not in my power to accede to, being almost destitute
of funds—that nine hundred and sixty-five dollars
was all the cash I could command, and four hundred of
that I owed to him, which through neglect I had not returned.”
“Dont be out of heart,” said Wilson; “the
money you speak of, I do not want, and if you cannot
lay out your money to more advantage, throw it into the
firm: you can act as clerk to my father or myself, as we
may hereafter agree—your board in the mean time will
cost you nothing; if you only double your money per annum
it is better than nothing—cheer up,” said the kind
hearted Wilson, “don't despond,” and with this conversation
we reached Nashville. Nashville was, even at
this early period, 1807, a very handsome town. It
stands on the south bank of Cumberland river, which
runs from east to west, or nearly so, at this place. Several
elegant brick buildings were erected, and amongst
the rest a handsome college, called Cumberland College!
In short such is the beauty, activity, and commerce of
this town that the whole had the appearance of magic.—
Situated as it is at such an immense distance from the
more civilized sections of the Union, as I may say, it
will yet form, at no very distant period, doubtless, a
very respectable part of it. It has a very romantic appearance,
being built upon a lofty bluff, at the base of
which the Cumberland river steals softly along.

After making a conditional bargain for a store-house
and lumber-room, and likewise for a small assortment of
goods, we returned home. Wilson had been so careful
of my feelings that he had not divulged a sentence of my
late misfortunes to his parents. I would much rather he

[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]

had done so, that I might not in any subsequent event
appear to them in the light of an impostor. Upon expressing
my objections to entering upon business in this
disguise, he said “that if it would make any difference at
all with his father, such was his generosity, that it would
tend to bias him very much in my favour.” I told
him that “whether it did or did not, I could by no
means have any concern with the proposal without this
disclosure.” It was accordingly made. The result
proved Wilson's observation respecting his father to be
as he had suggested. Old Mr. Wilson commended my
candour as the greatest evidence I could give of upright
intentions. “Keep up your spirits,” said he, “you are
young and enterprising and very capable of doing business,
and you shall never want assistance. Henry talks
of setting up a store in Nashville and taking you in as a
partner. He would be glad that I would join him. but I
care nothing about it;—I told him he should have this
year's cotton to try his luck; you can attend to the store
and he can study law the while. I suppose he's not
give that out.—I hate to pay so much money for his eddication
for nothing, and it was all his mother's doings at
first. Faith! it has cost me a good round sum, but as I
was telling you, his mother said, “Well, old msn, we
must have one great man in our family, and you know
what a great man we have had a kin to us.[1] Who knows
but that Henry may come to be President of the United
States?” “Ah, Betsey,” says I, “you are always
building castles in the air. There's William,” says I
to her, “oh, he was to marry Miss Tabb Nothingsurer.
Well, to please her I rigs up William, that's my second
son, buys him a gig and fine clothes, and like o' that,
fine servant, well, off he goes to see Miss Tabb—you'll
hear how it turned out, just as I expected—'bout a week
here comes William, looking doleful enough—might
tell as far as you could see him that he had no encouragement—
I was expecting how it would be—old woman
by, he gets out of the gig, comes in, if you had seen
how sheepish he looked, his mother all expectation.—
“Well, son, what news?” “Don't ask me about news,”

[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]

says William, “The d—I may court Miss Tabb for
me—as proud as h—ll; why she would hardly speak to
me!” “Possible!” says my wife, “a poor pretty upstart!
I can remember when her father was nothing but an overseer;
and I have heard my mother say that he had to enter
her house with his hat under his arm. I'll let her
know that my son is as good as she.” Seeing that he
paused, I asked, “if Mr. Henry Wilson still intended
to prosecute the study of the law.” “Oh, I suppose he
does, I never axed him about it since he come home.”
But as I was tellin' you, Mrs. Wilson must have a President
or Secretary of State, or some d—n nonsense.
Well, to please her, I always, Mr. Burlington, have
been a friend to the ladies and trys to please 'um. Well,
so it was, Henry was hoisted off to Princeton, and now
I suppose his—” At this part of the narrative we were
fortunately interrupted by the entrance of company; to
come to the conclusion, the old gentleman a few days afterwards,
went with us to Nashville (telling his long stories
all the way) and purchased four thousand dollars
worth of goods, paying one half down, one half of which
I advanced to him, to wit: nine hundred and fifty dollars.

And here behold me now located in Nashville, upwards
of one thousand miles distant from my sister, and the
place of my nativity. Although no one had less cause
to murmur at their destinies than I, yet the man who
could so soon forget, the man who could so soon subduc
his feelings, must possess a greater share of philosophy
than I. In the hurry and application of business or conversation,
my thoughts would often steal to Boston.—
Such was often the case, and such was the depth of those
impressions, that neither the charms of society, nor the
bustle of business could enable me to resist those intrusions.
Indeed, I found a pleasure, an exquisite pleasure,
in reflecting upon those past scenes; lest, however,
my health might be endangered by this weakness, (I presume
it was) and my sister might lose her only protector,
I strove to keep it within proper bounds. Wilson
and myself had both written to Boston upon our first arrival
in Tennessee. My sister received both letters, and

[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

one answer only was returned. She stated that she
was well, and expressed much congratulatory pleasure
at our safe arrival and kind reception. To Wilson she
did not write; at the bottom of the letter to me, she expressed
herself thus:—“As you are brothers one letter
may suffice for both.” Whether Wilson was pleased, or
otherwise with this remark, is not in my power to say, as
by his words and gestures I could discover neither the
one nor the other. I now wrote to her again, thinking
it would be the most agreeable thing to her in the world
to hear that I was so happily situated, and had an expectation
of a speedy independance for us both. Thus I
continued to discharge my duty as a clerk, with undeviating
and unremitting attention. Wilson lived in Nashville
during the time and was very seldom out of my
company; we both boarded at the same table, and slept
in the same chamber. In this manner one year rolled
round, and my prospects wore a brighter appearance than
when I engaged in business. Had I continued in this
situation I might have escaped a world of wo! When
I reflect on the circumstances alluded to, with calm and
rational retrospection, I am more than ever convinced
that all human affairs are guided by an over-ruling
Providence, and that we are simple instruments by which
he effects his purposes. But further remarks are superfluous.—
In the course of the last year I formed an acquaintance
with a Dr T—. He was a young man of
enterprise and talents; generous and insinuating; he possessed
every endowment of mind and clegance of person;
and with those qualities he had the most daring courage.
Dr. T— spent much of his time in Nashville, during
the time I have mentioned. I was often in his company.
No wonder that I was captivated by this extraordinary
man. Though he effectually succeeded in attaching
me to his person, yet Wilson alone had his confidence;
this I have learned since. It appeared that three hundred
of those daring sons of the west, had concerted a
secret expedition to the Spanish dominions; and Wilson
was included in the number, provided he could bring
me over; if not, he would keep their secret; but would
not join them.

[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

Every one of the number entered into a solemn engagment,
confirmed by an oath, never to divulge the nature
of the enterprize. This engagement they have
most inviolably kept, and it is probable will do so, while
they live. Every thing was settled before the subject
was imparted to me; this was Wilson's business. He
well knew he could intrust me with the secret, even
though I might disapprove the project. I was thunder-struck
at first, but by degrees, and much persuasion, in
in an evil hour I joined the party. But after this many
difficulties were to be got over. What was to become
of my sister? I could write to her that we were going
to Missouri on a hunting party, (which in fact was
true,) and that we would return in about six months.
“Well, but what shall we say to Mr. and Mrs. Wilson?”
“Tell them the same story.” All this was well.

We were to rendezvous at St. Louis, the first day of
October. Each man was to supply himself with a horse,
and as much provision as the horse could carry. Every
six were to furnish a horse laden with powder and lead,
and other indispensable necessaries. Every man must
be furnished with a rifle, a brace of pistols, a dirk, two
suits of clothes, and two blankets. These with three
small tents were to be put on other horses. These were
the general regulations—any man, however, might take
as many horses as he pleased; which many of us did.
Other regulations were drawn up, for the conduct of the
party, which it is unnecessary to detail here. On the
day appointed, we met at St. Louis, in high spirits,
breathing the most impatient ardour to proceed.

Had some kind spirit whispered, “You are about to
enter upon an enterprise, for the presumption of which
you will be chastised with grievous calamities”—had it
whispered that, instead of six months, my absence would
embrace three long years of unparalleled sufferings—but
oh! no such kind monitor—not the slightest conviction—
not the most distant apprehension obtruded on my too
unsuspicious mind.

eaf332.n1

[1] Patrick Henry.

CHAPTER IV.

[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

After resting ourselves for two days, at St. Louis, we
set out, keeping a south-west course until we reached the
head of St. Francis river, which we did in fifteen days,
without meeting with any accident or impediment. Here
we made another halt to rest ourselves and horses, and
refit our accoutrements. While we remained here we
were visited by the Osage Indians. At first they testified
some dislike towards us: seemed wary and suspicious;
but upon Capt. T—'s assuring them that he
was just going to the western Ocean to catch furs, they
approached us with perfect unconcern, and offered to
guide us to the head waters of White River. We had
remained here three days, and parched a sufficiency of
corn to last us twenty days, as our biscuit and flour had
given out; Indeed, we had had so much rain for the four
or five last days, that our flour was spoiled. We had
prepared our provisions, washed our clothes, and intended
to set out on the morning of the fourth day—when lo!
fortune, which had hitherto favoured us, began to
lower.

We had concluded to leave about ten of our horses at
this place to seek their fortunes the best way they could,
as they were unable to proceed further; the remainder
were very much reduced, yet we meant to take them
some distance further, as we would soon be where wild
horses were numerous, from which we could furnish ourselves;
but that very night we lost four of our best horses.
This was distressing above all; yet we could have
borne this much easier than another misfortune, which
seemed to threaten us with more serious consequence;
this was both sickness and mutiny. Had I known the
tempers and dispositions of these Tennesseans before I
set out—(but I might apply the remark to any thing else
as the present.) One of our men, whose name was Johnston,
was taken ill that night; we had a physician in

[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

company, who had supplied himself with all sorts of
medicine. The physician pronounced his complaint to
be “a malignant billious fever, generated from the low,
marshy country we were then in.” The Indians informed
us that this description of country was endless in
the direction we intended to pursue. This operated like
an electrical shock upon the whole party, Capt. T. excepted.
The alarm spread instantly; dejection pervaded
every man's countenance, and by far the greatest
part were for turning back. For my own part, although
I was among the number of those who wished to return,
I said nothing. Then it was that I saw what was in the
power of one man to effect, when possessed of talents,
persuasion, perseverance, and address. In the first
place all possible assistance was bestowed on the sick
man, by which time the murmurs and tumult of the rest
had measureably subsided. Capt. T. then addressed
them in a short, but very animated speech, the design of
which went to remove their fears, and revive their hopes.
In this speech, every thing that ingenuity could dictate,
enthusiasm inspire, or eloquence display, was eminently
and emphatically resorted to. Scarcely had he ended,
before all cried out, “Boys let's go on: we are not cowards—
shall we who never feared the face of man, now
be scared by a few swamps and rivers? let's go on, we'll
stick by our captain while there's a button on our coats—
live or die.” All rose to their feet, as a token of consent,
except two brothers, by the name of Jones. Some
of those who were acquainted with them, observing this,
exclaimed “d—n it, boys, don't he obstinate!” They
were incorrigible—Capt. T. appeared somewhat grieved,
and remonstrated with them in a style calculated to
soothe their tempers. It had no effect—one of them desired
Capt. T. to mind his own business: they were free
men and their own masters, and would act as they pleased.
Both turned pale, and their eyes flashed fire as they
spoke. They, however, were not unmatched: hardly
did they utter the last word, when one Gibson resented
the disrespectful language addressed to Capt. T. He
replied to Jones with much warmth, and with displeasure
in his countenance, “that he might go to h—ll if he

[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

chose, but if he uttered another word of disrespect to
Capt. T. he would send him there instantly.” “Capt.
T. and you are d—d —!” No sooner was this
pronounced than they flew at each other with the rapidity
of lightning.—“No man touch:” was reiterated
by an hundred voices. “Part them,” said others.—
“Stand off,” said the brother of Jones, “or I'll kill the
first man that interferes!”—These exclamations, the undressing
and engagement of the combatants, and the
formation of a ring around them, by the party, were the
business of a moment!—In the meantime, though they
advanced towards each other with the fierceness of tigers,
yet they encountered with cool and deliberate aim,
and not a blow was misplaced, no advantage sought, no
finess resorted to either by one or the other; while the
the most determined courage and presence of mind was
displayed on both sides.—They were equal in weight,
courage, and skill; in short, they were the most equally
matched of any two men in the company; they only differed
in age and wind. For about twenty minutes no advantage
seemed to be gained by either, it was a regular
pass, one after another.—But what equally surprised
me, was the perfect unconcern of the party; with the most
listless indifference one would take a chew of tobacco,
another a pinch of snuff. “That was a durn'd good
blow!” says a third, some would cry “well done Gibson!”
others “well done Jones!” Wilson and myself
who were trembling from head to feet, said nothing, at
least above breath. Wilson once observed to me “I'll
be hanged if they mind it any more than we do a chicken
fight in Virginia!” At the end of half an hour their
well-tried strength began to yield a little; both appeared
fatigued—some cried “part them:” “no man touch!”
said Jones, brother to him who was engaged, “if he
does he must be a better man than me!” “A better man
than you!” quoth Wilson, “he must be a lion then.”—
This might well be applied to a man of his gigantic
appearance; being a much stouter man than the one engaged
in the fight.—“Fight till you die brother: never
give up!” said Jones. “Fight till yo die!” said another
to Gibson, “never give up.” Jones was somewhat

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

older than Gibson, but had the best wind, which made
them about equal. At length Gibson staggered, and
the next blow brought him to the ground—“part them!”
said an hundred voices. “No man touch! hands off:
hands off!” was reitered by as many more, in a noise
that rent the air.—The advantage gained by Jones was
momentary; he attempted to keep Gibson down, but in
vain: Gibson turned under him and was on his feet in
a twinkling, and the fight was renewed with redoubled
vigour. How long they would have continued the contest,
is unknown; for Capt. T. cried out, “They have
fought long enough, part them!” several advanced together,
out of the ring, for this purpose, when the
other Jones flew among them, with his gun laying about
him with the butt end of it, flying about in all directions;
some caught hold of the gun, some seized Jones, and others
laid hold of the combatants—amongst whom was
Wilson. As for me, I kept aloof, wishing myself safe
in Boston. Jones, after being disarmed, drew his dirk,
broke from those who held him, and flew amongst the
crowd like a roaring lion. At the same instant, Capt.
T. sprung behind him, caught him by the shoulders, and
brought him to the ground, flat on his back.

He was now overpowered by numbers, while he grated
his teeth, in token of revenge. Had it not been for
this well-timed gallantry in Capt. T., bloodshed would
have been inevitable. The two heroes were now carried
by their respective friends, to a stream of water, to refresh
themselves, and to have the blood washed from
their faces.

Jones, in the mean time, was put under guard, by order
of the Captain. The guard, however, were compelled
to hold him down forcibly, until he became pacified;
which he did in the course of thirty minutes.

“And these are your Tennesseans,” said I to Wilson;
“but they must have studied fighting as an art, if not
as a science. But Capt. T. is a noble fellow. So long
as he lives, we have have nothing to fear; but should
any accident deprive us of him, bad will be our case.—
Nothing but anarchy and bloodshed must ensue.”

Perhaps I never was more mistaken in my

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

calculations! as was abundantly proved by subsequent events.
I found those very men, those Tennesseans, generous,
modest, mild, humane, sincere, and brave—yet peaceable.

What was my astonishment upon looking up, when I
beheld Jones and Gibson walking arm in arm! They
approached the other champion, (Jones) and gently reproved
him for his conduct. He smiled and replied—

“Tere's nothing like taking a brush now and then;
it keeps one's blood in circulation,” and, addressing the
Captain, “why the mischief did'nt you let me alone—I
would only have killed three or four; and d—n the
odds, they'll die, any-how.—Well, boys,” said he addressing
the company, “let's go and hunt the horses, the
Indians have them, no doubt. Just give me ten men,
Captain, and I'll have the horses before I sleep!”

“Agreed,” says the Captain, “choose your men.”

He picked out ten, brave as himself, but not so stout;
and after taking some refreshment, they set out, with the
utmost alacrity—filling their canteens with whiskey, of
which we had yet a plenty.

Thus ended an affair which seemed to threaten the
most alarming consequences! The sick man, I should
think, would have been worse, from affright, if nothing
else. Though I believe it was the means of reviving
him, for he seemed much better. I asked him if he was
not alarmed at the events of the morning. He said no:
and treated it with the utmost indifference. He was very
cheerful, and seemed to promise recovery.

Upon enquiry, we found that Jones and Gibson were
much hurt. And no wonder: the twentieth part of
what either received, would have effectually cured me of
castle-building, in the air, for ever! And so far from
rancour, jealousy, distrust, or coldness, appearing
amongst us this evening, the whole was mirth and conviviality.
Betting, stories, and singing songs, as if
nothing had happened. They put me in mind of the
Irish, in this respect—fight one minute and the next
they will be better friends than ever.

But it was amusing enough, to hear the dialogue which
took place between the two champions. After being

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

bled, they laid themselves down to repose, at a friendly
distance, and commenced the following dialogue:

Upon this they shook hands. And for aught I know,
have kept their engagements. Had I not had sufficient
proof of the sort of men who were absent, in search of
the horses, I might have entertained some doubts of the
expedition. Doubtless they would meet with the Indians;
but they will soon learn whom they have to deal
with. With this reflection, and much less anxiety about
the things of this too deluslve world, than I had hitherto
felt, I laid myself down by the side of Wilson.

These people effectually cured me of many errors—I
had thought this world a mighty matter. I had heard
and read of greatness of soul, wisdom, liberality, magnanimity,
bravery, friendship, and the most profound
philosophy, but never saw it before.

We were embarked in a bad cause, to say the least of
it. It was enterprize improperly directed—it was the
error of youth! But what could not such men as these
achieve—as they have abundantly proved since. These
are the men who distinguished themselves at New-Orleans.
These are the men who gained the most brilliant
victory recorded in history. These are the brave Tennesseans
whose fame has reached distant countries; and
will be transmitted down to latest posterity!

About ten o'clock at night here came Jones, whooping
and hallooing, with the horses. It appeared that

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

our conjectures were correct, respecting the Indians,
from the account given by Jones, of whom it must be observed,
as a specimen of the people of this country, that
he was not only a stranger to fear, but seemed to court
danger.

Taking the track of the horses, they pursued it through
many windings, to an Indian village. Jones rode up
amidst about an hundred Indians and demanded the horses
instantly—or he would massacre the whole of them.
This was soon made known, through their interpreter.
“Instantly, instantly!” said Jones.

The Indians denied stealing the horses, but said
“they would show us where they were.”

“That was a good one:” said Jones.

“No matter, no matter, move on, move on, show
where they are. If they had not stopped the bells we
could have heard them. Not a mile from the village,
and here we are boys, safe and sound. Give us some
supper, Tawney, (speaking to the man who waited.)
Pony up, pony up, boys, let's talk and have something
to eat. “How are you, Bob?” speaking to his brother.

“Ah!” said Bob, “I feel a little sickish about my
stomach.” “And how are you, Gibson?” “I feel very
stiff and sore,” said Gibson. “I should wonder if you
did not,” said Wilson; though he took care not to speak
very loud. “No danger of the lock-jaw, ha; is there
any hopes of your death? I was afraid when Bob—got
you—down,” said Jones, deliberately eating his supper,
“that it was all over with you. Never saw a fellow
turn so quick, in my life. Well, after all, I'll swear it
was the prettiest fight I ever saw.—Well, curse them
Indians, I can't get them out of my head. Hadn't they
the impudence of the devil—that's true enough. They
had like to a made me mad.”

After eating his supper, with the utmost composure,
Jones went to rest, after making the kindest enquiry after
the sick man's health.

The next morning we set forward on our journey.
The face of the country through which we were travelling,
was low, flat, and in many places, very wet and
marshy. Our course lay over rivulets, which proved

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

extremely troublesome to cross. Prairies were almost
constant. Buffalo and Elks, were often seen; deer were
numerous; also wild sheep and an animal of the hare
kind. This last was very large and very fleet. Our
dogs could by no means keep up with them; these were
numerous. We also saw several wild horses that were
small and indifferent in their appearance.

From the information of the Indians that the further
we advanced the better would be our chance to procure
good horses, we declined, for the present, any attempt
to catch them. They seemed to be very tame and
appeared to apprehend no danger from their intruders.
They walked slowly off from us without seeming to notice
us in the least.

The other wild animals preserved nearly the same indifference
towards us, except the sheep and the hare—
each of which would disappear with the greatest swiftness.
Here, too, we passed the prairy hen, which we
had before seen on both sides of the Mississippi. These
are, in appearance and size, between a pheasant (as it is
called in this country,) and the domestic hen. It is
more like the latter. They cluck like the hen and are
followed by numerous flocks of chickens. My companions
said they were often seen in the farm-yards, among
the settlers, west of the Mississippi, perfectly tame,
and supplied the tables of the settlers. We killed
numbers, and found them delicious. We also found the
prairy dog, as it was called, being a species of the dog
kind. It is, however, more like the fox, but much larger
than any I had ever seen. They were of a very
dark, nearly a black colour.

These animals, as well as the hen, are peculiar to the
prairies. They are great enemies to the hen, upon
which they mostly subsist. Both are numerous. Our
dogs would often pursue the prairy dog—but without
success. The latter would instantly disappear in the
numerous holes which they burrow for themselves in the
ground.

These prairies are covered with wild rye, higher than
the tallest man's head, and so thick that you could not
see a man, on horse-back, at five paces distant. The

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

streams (I mean the margins) were as thickly covered
with cane.

We pursued our journey, mostly on foot, keeping a
little west of south.—Headed the White river, and
struck the Arkrnsaw river in latitude 36° in four days.
During our journey we found vast masses of pure salt,
which proved very acceptable. The trees had not cast
their leaves. And the animals, quite similar to those I
mentioned, with this difference only—the horses seemed
to be stout, and more shy. The land very fertile, and
covered with wild rye.

Johnson had not yet recovered. In fact he grew
worse, but continued, however, to travel; though at a
slow rate. As we seemed to gain higher and less marshy
ground, we entertained some hopes of his recovery;
but his disease had taken too fast hold of him; and the
doctor gave him up. On account of this unfortunate
circumstance we unanimously agreed to await the issue
on the banks of the Arkansas.

But we waited not long. In twelve hours from the
time we halted, Johnston breathed his last! His easy
death, and the calm composure with which he met it,
might rank him among the most profound philosophers,
if not among the most pious christians.

On the north bank of the Arkansas, a lofty elm looks
down upon the humble tomb of Johnston. Peace to his
shade! He was one of the meekest and most pleasant
young men I ever met with.

After each had paid the tribute of a tear to his memory,
we set forth once more. We crossed the Arkansas,
on a raft, took six, only, of our best horses. Leaving
the rest on the other side of the river. Our baggage
was considerably reduced. Part of it we lost: some was
worn out; and we had but three bushels of Indian corn
remaining!

We were, however, no way disheartened on account
of bread, having cured a quantity of venison, with
the salt mentioned, and dried it in the sun. We found
it a good substitute for bread. Meat, we brought none—
calculating to subsist on game, it being found in great
plenty.

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Our amunition, upon which our subsistence depended,
was the only thing which gave us any concern. As long
it lasted, such as we were, we had no obstacles to fear.
Our whole attention, therefore, was turned towards that,
which we husbanded with great care.

When we crosed the river, we caught seven wild horses,
upon which we disposed our baggage, and pursued
our journey. Keeping due south, we arrived at Wahashitta
river, in five days. Latitude 84½°. Still pursuing
a southerly direction, we entered, (as we supposed)
Lower Louisiana in two days. Here we were compelled
to halt, in order to refit, recruit ourselves, and
take medicine.

The death of Johnston had struck a damp on our spirits,
which had already began to flag, on account of the
distance we had travelled, and still more that which was
to come. But now our misfortune wore a more serious
aspect. Several of us being attacked with a fever! At
this place we were gratified with pomegranates, oranges,
and figs, growing wild; but saw no habitation. Whether
this fruit was the spontaneous production of the soil,
or whether, as appeared most likely, the seed was accidentally
dropped, by some adventurous traveller, I have
never been able to learn.

Grapes of various kinds abounded, besides a variety
of other fruit. The forest was perfectly green, and no
appearance that either frost or snow had visited this
mild region. Although the beautiful appearance of the
country, and a fine spring of water was a sufficient indecement
to protract our departure; yet we were apprehensive,
from the marshy ground, which surrounded us,
and which determined us to hasten our departure. But
we were unfortunately detained six days.

On the evening of the second, about an hour before
sun-down, being all collected together, some sitting,
some laying down, some elated by the near approach of
incalculable wealth, and others cursing themselves for
fools, wished all the mines to the d—I! when a tremendous
roaring assailed our ears. Various were the
conjectures respecting it—some said it was wind—others
a water-fall, or a water-course of some sort. It

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seemed to approach nearer, and became louder as it drew
near. I could not see a tree move, although the roaring
was, to our senses, ready to overwhelm us. I gave myself
up for lost, when our guide cried out with a loud
voice, “Take trees—take trees,” and setting the example.

As there happened to be trees near, every man flew to
a tree, with his gun in hand, expecting nothing less than
an engagement with some foe. Scarcely had each man
gained his tree, when a great number of cattle approached
us, running by at full speed! They rushed by us,
without taking the least notice of us, whatever; several
of our men fired upon them, but it made not the least difference
in their career. Had we not taken shelter behind
the trees the instant we did, we should inevitably
have been maimed, if not crushed to death. There could
not have been less than five hundred!

When the noise had died away, and our guide, to whom
this phenomenon was familiar, was explaining it to us, we
discovered an army of men, on horseback, advancing towards
us at a round gallop They were without saddles
or bridles, and almost without clothes, having on a remnant
only, of what had once been such. They wore no
hats. But instead of them, a piece of cloth was tied on
their heads. They were exceedingly sun-burnt, if they
ever had been fair. There were about thirty of them, in
number. This fantastic group, in the manner they approached,
resembled men broke loose from bedlam, more
than persons in their senses. As they drew near, we
perceived that each of them was armed with a club, from
four to five feet in length; and our party, to a man, made
ready to fire in case of an attack. But they approached
us in perfect peace.

When they discovered us they stopped suddenly, and
appeared no less surprised at us than we were at them.
They gazed at us in silent astonishment. We spoke
first, through our guide, who understood their bad French.
They proved to be Louisianians, whose business it was
to attend those vast herds of cattle, which abound in the
natural meadows, which over-spread the country in this
region.

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We found them grossly ignorant, particularly on the
geography of their country. They could give no account
of their towns, number of inhabitants, the productions,
nor even how far they themselves were bound. All that
we could get out of them, was that “they belonged to
the parish of — and were employed by Monsieur—,
to attend his cattle, that we had not seen more
than one half, and that they were driving those home,
which passed by us. We enquired how far they came,
and how far they had to go? but might as well have addressed
the man in the moon.

“They had travelled,” they said, “two days, since
they gathered the cattle.” But of the distance they had
yet before them, they were perfectly ignorant. We asked
them how far they lived from New-Orleans, but these
swarthy sons of Adam, stared at us with awkward stupidity.
Captain T. invited them to stay and spend the
night with us, to which some of them appeared to assent.
But the major part seemed to refuse, alleging they
must stay by the cattle.

One of them, who seemed to be of some consequence
among his fellows, asked “where we were going?”

Jones replied, “to England, to catch herrings!” but
his quiz was lost on these ignorant creatures. They
very generously offered us a part of their scanty allowance
of yams, for which we gave them an equivalent in
money, and they departed. The horses they rode were
greatly superior to those we had seen. And the judgment
and skill with which they managed them was surprising.
At a signal, from the rider, the horses would
proceed or stand still. And the slightest touch of the
hand, on the side of the neck, turned the animal's course
at the pleasure of the rider.

When they left us I felt as though I would have been
glad to accompany them. I began seriously to repent
of my rashness in joining the party, and had it been at
my option again, it certainly would be the last thing I
would do. But the die was cast, and it was in vain to
think of retreat. I certainly did feel melancholy on the
departure of these Frenchmen.

On the morning of the seventh day we set forward

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again, and the second day, at night, we arrived on the
banks of the Red river, as we have since understood, for
at that time we knew not its name. We crossed it in the
morning, and after travelling two days more we discovered
we were bearing too near the gulph. And turning
more to the westward we headed Sabine river in three
days. We had received information from the Indians
whom we met almost every day, that it was much the
best way, the land being less marshy.

We continued to keep the same course, without halting,
except at night, for seven days, when our journey
seemed, in all likelihood, at an end, not by gaining the
object of our journey, but by the obstruction of a great
river! Here we sat down, disposed to rest and reflection.

Our situation at this time was such as would have discouraged
any but Tennesseans. Worn out with fatigue,
some thousand miles from home, with no other food than
what the forest yielded, most of us very young men, a
river which we neither knew the name nor width of,
being unable to see the land on the opposite shore, was
such as to call up every power of the human mind!—
Now, thought I, our Quixotte party must return, for it
is impossible they will have the hardihood to attempt
crossing such a river. No such thing—they were
not made to be intimidated by rivers. And to my astonishment,
set about making a raft, which, with infinite
labour, was completed in four days, and we effected
our landing on the other side in two, all safe! We
were now fairly over the Rubicon. Here we found the
Indians very numerous, much more so than on the other
side, and more intelligent. They gave us plenty of
fruit to eat, and informed us, as near as we could understand
them, that we were within ten days journey of
Mexico! This they did by signs, pointing first to the
sun and then to their fingers, until they told ten.

The country was still more beautiful than that on the
other side of the river. We found the cocoa in plenty;
a few pine-apples and figs, and grapes without number.
But these were poor substitutes for bread. We ate of
them, however, and travelled on, procuring a few yams,

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now and then, from the natives. On the fifth day after
crossing the great river, we began to ascend, as it were.
The low, marshy ground giving place to a more elevated
soil. The productions of which were as beautiful as the
most extravagant fancy could conceive. And in three
days more we reached St. Juan, a considerable village,
inhabited by Spaniards, Indians, and Creoles.

Here we rested three days, and with great difficulty
procured some Indian corn from the inhabitants. Our
guide, or interpreter, rather, for he knew nothing of the
way for the last ten days, with great difficulty made out
to explain to us the conversation of these people. And
their conduct towards us was rather unfriendly. Jealousy,
I could see, was depicted in their countenances.
They interrogated us with a minuteness which plainly
evinced suspicion. Our guide informed them, by whose
instructions heaven only knows, that we were going
to Mexico to form a treaty of amity and commerce, with
their government!! They seemed, as well they might,
not to credit this representation.

If we had acted cowardly, I have no doubt they would,
at least, have attempted to make us prisoners. But
such as we were, and such as we appeared, perfectly at
our ease, regardless of their significant looks, they offered
us no violence.

During our stay at St. Juan, we received no hospitality
from the Spaniards, whatever. What necessaries
we obtained we received from the Indians and Creoles.

In the mean time we endeavoured to obtain some
knowledge of the country, particularly that which lay
between us and Mexico, such as its towns, population,
and mines. Our enquiries were principally addressed
to the Indians, but they maintained the strictest silence
on all these subjects, at least so far as ever came to my
knowledge.

Whatever the rest of the party felt on this occasion, I
for one, became completely discouraged. I saw plainly,
that we had laboured in vain; and that our tedious and
perilous journey had turned out to be, a perfectly Quixotic
expedition. We were, at least, two thousand miles
from home; and what were our prospects?

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