EXTRACT

From the Reminiscences of a Western Traveller.

"I presume," said I, "that having so long resided in Kentucky, you

must have had some acquaintance with Indian warfare."

"I had no occasion," he replied, "to come to Kentucky to learn that. I

may say, that I have had something to do with it all my life, and it

had to do with me before I was born."

The speaker was a tall, handsome man, uncommonly stout, with an

appearance of great strength, perfect health, and a quiet good humor,

which disposed him to be communicative, merely by way of obliging.

Though by no means garrulous, I had discovered that he was ready to

tell whatever another might be desirous of hearing. He spoke with that

strong accent, and deliberate tone, which characterize the Scotch

Irish race, and which always, to my ear, conveys a promise that what

is said will be said distinctly and clearly.

Here then was the very man I wanted. I had left the peaceful scenes of

the Atlantic coast, expecting, not indeed to "roam through anters vast

and deserts wild," in my western tour, (for my maps and gazetteer had

taught me better,) but to find some traces of the scenes, which but a

few years before, had made it dangerous for a white man to set his

foot where we now rode along securely. My eye had eagerly scanned

every object which afforded promise of food to my young and eager

imagination; but as yet I had found none. The soft beauty and

exuberant fertility of the country, need only the touch of

civilization to take from it every appearance of wildness, and I could

hardly bring myself to believe that it had been so lately the haunt of

the prowling savage. My enthusiasm was consequently much damped; but

it was not extinguished, and these last words of my companion blew it

into a flame. A well directed question soon drew him out.

"I was born," said he, "among the mountains of Virginia. I never saw

my father. He was killed at the battle of Point Pleasant, just before

I came into the world. That is the reason why I said that Indian

fighting had to do with me before I was born. But that was not all;

many years before that, the Indians made a break on our settlement,

and carried off my oldest brother, and kept him."

"Did you never see him again?"

"I suppose I have, but I did not know it at the time." As he said

this, a gloom came over his countenance, which checked my

inquisitiveness, and he rode on, perhaps a mile, in moody silence. At

length his brow cleared, and he again spoke, but in a somewhat

saddened tone.

"It is something strange; I am not superstitious, and yet it seems to

me, as if at times, when people are in great distress of mind, they

are apt to say things that turn out almost like a prophecy. It was a

great grief to my mother, the loss of her child, and the longer she

lived the more she mourned after him. He was quite small when they

took him; and they carried him away over the lakes, so far, that they

never heard where he was, until he was almost grown up, a perfect wild

man. My mother was a religious woman; and the thought of his being

brought up among savages, where the word of God could never reach him,

went to her heart. She said, it was always borne upon her mind that he

was not dead, and that he would grow up among those vile wretches, to

be the death of his own father, and perhaps to die at last by the hand

of one of his own brothers. When they raised a party to follow the

Indians, she _would_ go with them, and all the way, she said, she

looked and looked, in hopes to see where they had dashed out her poor

child's brains against a tree. It was the only comfort she hoped for,

and that was denied her.

"As I told you, they never heard of him till he was near or quite a

man; and that was just before Dunmore's war. There was no chance to do

any thing towards getting him home at that time, for it was dangerous

to go near the Ohio. Indeed, all they knew was, that there was a white

man of about his age among the Indians, who answered to his name. It

was not until after the peace that we knew certainly all about him.

"Well! he was at the battle of the Point, fighting among the

Shawanees; and there my father was killed. When my mother heard that

he had been there, you may be sure her own words came back to her. No

body knew who killed my father. But why not he as well as another?

Flesh and blood could not have made her believe that it was not he.

"Just after that I was born, and then again my mother took it into her

head that I had come into the world to revenge my father's death.

There was no great comfort in that thought, you may be sure; so as

soon as the war was over, they tried all they could to get my brother

back. He was told that my father was dead, and had left a good estate;

and that he was the heir at law; (for you know that my father died

under the old law,) but it all would not do. He was a complete Indian,

and had an Indian wife and children that he would not leave. But he

had kind feelings for us all, and sent us word to take the estate; for

he wanted nothing but his rifle.

"Well! my mother died; and I and a brother a little older than me,

sold out and went to Kentucky. Where we settled was a dangerous

frontier near the Ohio, and the Indians once or twice every year,

would come over and strike at us. Then we would raise a party, and

follow them away almost to the lakes; and after we got strong enough,

we commonly kept a smart company ranging about on that side of the

river. Sometimes we volunteered; sometimes we were drafted; sometimes

one went; sometimes another. One year my brother went, and had a fight

with the Indians. Afterwards we heard that our wild brother was in

that fight, and was badly wounded. The next year I went out, and we

had a fight, and my poor brother was there again, and _he was

killed_."

He ceased speaking, and again sunk into a gloomy silence, which none

of us were disposed to interrupt. At length he said, in a softened

voice, "Thank God! I was spared one thing. I never think of it, that

it does not make the cold chills run over me. It was the night before

the battle. We had been following hard upon the trail all day, and

just before night we came up with them. But we did not let them see

us, and lay back till they had camped for the night. We knew we could

find them in the dark by their fires. Sure enough we soon saw the

light, and crawled towards it. The word was to attack at day light. In

the meantime every man was to keep his eye skinned, and his gun in his

hand, and not to fire on any account till the word was given. But in

this sort of business every man fights, more or less, on his own hook;

and if a fellow only kills an Indian, they never blame him. There they

were, all dead asleep, around their fire; and we standing looking at

them, almost near enough to hear them snore. You may be sure we did

not breathe loud. Well! while I was standing off on one flank,

watching them with all my eyes, up gets one, and stands right between

me and the light. Up came my rifle to my face. It was against orders,

but I never had shot at an Indian, and how could I stand it? My hand

was on the trigger, when the figure turned, and I saw the breasts of a

woman. You may be sure I did not shoot. It was my brother's daughter,

as I afterwards learned."

This story required no comment. It admitted of none. The ideas it

suggested was such as reason could neither condemn nor justify. We

could only muse on it in silence. At length, the other stranger, who,

like myself, had listened attentively, said, "I too was once within an

ace of shooting a woman."

I started at this, and turned to reconsider the speaker. I had already

scrutinized him pretty closely, and had formed a judgment concerning

him, which these words quite unsettled. The idea that he had been

familiar with scenes, where every man must make his hand guard his

head, had never entered my mind. He was indeed formidably armed,

carrying a brace of pistols in his belt, and another in his holsters.

The handle of a dirk peeped through the ruffle of his shirt, and a

rifle on his shoulder completed his armament. I had been of course

struck with an equipment so warlike, but attributed it to excess of

caution. The mildness and elegance of his manners had fixed him in my

mind, as one bred up in the scenes of peaceful and polished life,

where, in youth, he had heard so much of the perils of the country he

was now traversing, as to suppose it unsafe to visit it without this

load of weapons. I certainly had never seen a man of more courteous

and gentlemanlike demeanor; and though his countenance gave no token

of one "acquainted with cold fear," I had nevertheless, emphatically

marked him as a man of peace. He was the oldest man in company, but

deferential to all, accommodating, obliging, and, on all occasions,

modestly postponing himself, even to such a boy as I was. He seemed

now to have spoken from a wish to divert the painful thoughts of our

companion, and, in answer to an inquiring look from me, went on with

his story.

"It was nearly thirty years ago," said he, "I was travelling from

Virginia through the wilderness of Kentucky, then much infested by

Indians. I had one companion, an active, spirited young man, and we

were both well mounted and well armed. Vigilance alone was necessary

to our safety, and as we had both served a regular apprenticeship to

Indian warfare, we were not deficient in that. We soon overtook a

company of moving families, who had united for safety. The convenience

of the axes of the men, in making fires, and of the women in cooking,

determined us to join them. We camped together every night; and as we

derived great advantage from the association, we tried to requite it

by our activity and diligence as scouts and flankers. We commonly rode

some distance ahead, so as to give them time to prepare in case of

attack; depending on our own diligence and skill to guard against

surprise.

"Riding thus one day, a mile or two in advance, we were suddenly

startled by an outcry from behind, which was not to be mistaken. We

immediately drew up, and presently saw our party hurrying towards us,

in great confusion and alarm, whipping up their teams, and only

stopping long enough to say that they were pursued. The rear was

therefore now our post, and, waiting till they had all passed, we

dismounted,--hid our horses, took trees, and awaited the enemy. I did

not wait long, until I saw the head and shoulders of a figure above

the undergrowth, rushing at full speed towards me. My rifle was at my

cheek, and a steady aim at the advancing figure made me sure of my

mark, when an opening in the brushwood showed me the dress of a

female. She was the wife of one of the wretches who had just passed

us, completely spent and sinking with fatigue. Had there been Indians

she must have perished. As it was, her appearance showed the alarm to

be false; so I took her up behind me, and we went quietly on, in

pursuit of her dastard husband, to whose _protection_ I restored her."

In speaking these last words, the face of the speaker underwent, for a

moment, a change, which told more than his story. The tone of scornful

irony too, which accompanied the word _protection_, gave a new face to

his character. As I marked the slight flush of his pale and somewhat

withered cheek, the flash of his light blue eye, the curl of his lip,

and a peculiar clashing of his eye-teeth as he spoke; I thought I had

rarely seen a man, with whom it might not be as safe to trifle.

The day was now far spent; and as the sun descended, we had the

satisfaction to observe that he sank behind a grove, that marked the

course of a small branch of the Wabash, on the bank of which stood the

house where we expected to find food and rest.

None but a western traveller can understand the entire satisfaction

with which the daintiest child of luxury learns to look forward to the

rude bed and homely fare, which await him, at the end of a hard day's

ride, in the infant settlements. There is commonly a cabin of rough

unhewn logs, containing one large room, where all the culinary

operations of the family are performed, at the huge chimney around

which the guests are ranged. The fastidious, who never wait to be

hungry, may turn up their noses at the thought of being, for an hour

before hand, regaled with the steam of their future meal. But to the

weary and sharp set, there is something highly refreshing to the

spirits and stimulating to the appetite. The dutch oven, well filled

with biscuit, is no sooner discharged of them, than their place is

occupied by sundry slices of bacon, which are immediately followed by

eggs, broken into the hissing lard. In the mean time, a pot of strong

coffee is boiling on a corner of the hearth; the table is covered with

a coarse clean cloth; the butter and cream and honey are on it; and

supper is ready.

"Then horn for horn they stretch and strive."

It makes me hungry now to think of it; and I am tempted to take back

my word and eat something, having just told my wife I wanted no

supper. But it will not do. I have not rode fifty miles to-day, and my

table is so trim and my room so snug that I have no appetite.

But it is only in the first stage of a settlement, that these things

are found. By and by, mine host, having opened a larger farm, builds

him a house, of frame-work or brick, the masonry and carpentry of

which show the rude handy-work of himself and his sons. He now employs

several hands, and the leavings of their dinner will do for the supper

of any chance travellers in the evening. A round deep earthen dish, in

which a bit of fat pork or lean salt beef, crowns a small mound of

cold greens or turnips, with loaf bread baked a month ago, and a tin

can of skimmed milk now form the travellers supper. It is vain to

expostulate. Our host has no fear of competition. He has now located

the whole point of wood land crossed by the road, and no one can come

nearer to him, on either hand, than ten miles. Besides, he is now the

"squire" of the neighborhood, with "eyes severe," and "fair round

belly with _fat bacon_ lined;" and why should not the daily food of a

man of his consequence be good enough for a hungry traveller?

It was to a house of this latter description that we now came. No one

came out to receive us. Why should they? We took off our own baggage,

and found our way into the house as we might.

On entering, I was struck with the appearance of the party, as their

figures glimmered through the mingled lights of a dull window and a

dim fire. Each individual, though seated, (and no man moved or bad us

welcome) wore his hat, of shadowy dimensions; a sort of family

resemblance, both in cut and color, ran through the dresses of all;

and a like resemblance in complexion and cast of countenance marked

all but one. This one, as we afterwards found, was the master of the

mansion, a man of massive frame, and fat withal, but whose full

cheeks, instead of the ruddy glow of health, were overcast with an

ashy, dusky, money-loving hue. In the appearance of all the rest there

was something ascetic and mortified. But landlord and guest wore all

one common expression of ostentatious humility and ill-disguised

self-complacency, which so often characterizes those new sects, that

think they have just made some important discoveries in religion. Mine

host was, as it proved, the Gaius of such a church, and his guests

were preachers of the same denomination. I have forgotten the name;

but they were not Quakers. I have been since reminded of them, on

reading the description of the company Julian Peveril found at

Bridgnorth's.

When we entered, our landlord was talking in a dull, plodding strain,

and in a sort of solemn protecting tone, to his respectfully attentive

guests. Our appearance made no interruption in his discourse; and he

went on, addressing himself mainly to a raw looking youth, whose

wrists and ankles seemed to have grown out of his sleeves and

pantaloons since they were made. Where the light, which this young man

was now thought worthy to diffuse, had broken in upon his own mind, I

did not learn, but I presently discovered that he came from "a little

east of sunrise," and had a curiosity as lively as my own, concerning

the legends of the country.

"I guess brother P----," said he, "you have been so long in these

parts, that it must have been right scary times when you first came

here."

"Well! I cannot say," replied the other, "that there has been much

danger in this country, since I came here. But if there was, it was

nothing new to me. I was used to all that in Old Kentuck, thirty years

ago."

"I should like," said the youth, "to hear something of your early

adventures. I marvel that we should find any satisfaction in turning

from the contemplation of God's peace, to listen to tales of blood and

slaughter. But so it is. The old Adam will have a hankering after the

things of this world."

"Well!" replied our host, "I have nothing very particular to tell. The

scalping of three Indians, is all I have to brag of. And as to danger;

except having the bark knocked off of my tree into my eyes, by a

bullet, I do not know that I was ever in any mighty danger, but once."

"And when was that?"

"Well! It was when we were moving out along the wilderness road. You

see it was mighty ticklish times; so a dozen families of us started

together, and we had regular guards, and scouts, and flankers, just

like an army. The second day after we left Cumberland river, a couple

of young fellows joined us, one by the name of Jones, and I do not

remember the other's name. I suppose they had been living somewhere in

Old Virginia, where they had plenty of slaves to wait on them; and it

went hard with them to make their own fires, and cook their own

victuals; so they were glad enough to fall in with us, and have us and

our women to work and cook for them. But a man was a cash article

there; and they both had fine horses and good guns; and, to hear them

talk, (especially that fellow Jones,) you would have thought, two or

three Indians before breakfast, would not have been a mouthful to

them. We did not think much of them, but we told them, if they would

take their turn in scouting and guarding, they were welcome to join

us."

At this moment, our landlady, who was busy in a sort of shed, which

adjoined the room we sat in, and served as a kitchen, entered, and

stopping for a moment, heard what was passing. She was a good-looking

woman, of about forty-five, with a meek subdued and broken hearted

cast of countenance. I saw her look at her husband, and as she

listened, her face assumed an expression of timid expostulation, mixed

with that sort of wonderment, with which we regard a thing utterly

unaccountable, but which use has rendered familiar.

Her lord and master caught the look, and bending his shaggy brow,

said, "I guess the men will want their supper, by the time they get

it."

She understood the hint, and stole away rebuked; uttering

unconsciously, in a loud sigh, the long hoarded breath which she had

held all the time she listened. Her manner was not intended to attract

notice; but there was something in it, which disposed me to receive

her husband's tale with some grains of allowance. He went on thus:

"The day we expected to get to the crab-orchard, it was their turn to

bring up the rear. By good rights, they ought to have been a quarter

of a mile or so behind us; and I suppose they were; when, all of a

sudden, we heard the crack of a rifle, and here they come, right

through us, and away they went. I looked round for my woman and I

could not see her. The poor creature was a little behind, and thought

there was no danger, because we all depended on them two fire eaters

in the rear, to take care of stragglers. But when they ran off, you

see, there was nobody between her and the Indians; and the first thing

I saw, was her, running for dear life, and they after her. I set my

triggers, and fixed myself to stop one of them; and just then, her

foot caught in a grape vine, and down she came. I let drive at the

foremost, and dropped him; but the other one ran right on. My gun was

empty; and I had no chance but to put in, and try the butt of it. But

I was not quite fast enough. He was upon her, and had his hand in her

hair; and it was a mercy of God, he did not tomahawk her at once. He

had plenty of time for that;--but he was too keen after the scalp;

and, just as he was getting hold of his knife, I fetched him a clip

that settled him. Just then, I heard a crack or two, and a ball

whistled mighty near me; but, by this time, some of our party had

rallied, and took trees; and that brought the Indians to a stand. So I

put my wife behind a tree, and got one more crack at them; and then

they broke and run. That was the only time I ever thought myself in

any _real_ danger, and that was all along of that Jones and the other

fellow. But they made tracks for the settlement."

"Have you never seen Jones since?" said the mild voice of the

courteous gentleman I have mentioned.

"No; I never have; and it's well for him; though, bless the Lord! I

hope I could find in my heart _now_ to forgive him. But if I had ever

come across him, before I met with you, brother B----;" (addressing a

grave senior of the party who received the compliment with

impenetrable gravity;) "I guess it would not have been so well for

him."

"Do you think you would know him again, if you were to see him?" said

my companion.

"It's a long time ago," said he, "but I think I should. He was a

mighty fierce little fellow, and had a monstrous blustering way of

talking."

"Was he any thing like me?" said the stranger, in a low but hissing

tone.

The man started, and so did we all, and gazed on the querist. In my

life, I never saw such a change in any human face. The pale cheek was

flushed, the calm eye glowed with intolerable fierceness, and every

feature worked with loathing. But he commanded his voice, though the

curl of his lip disclosed the full length of one eye tooth, and he

again said, "look at me. Am not I the man?"

"I do not know that you are," replied the other doggedly, and trying

in vain to lift his eye to that which glared upon him. "I do not know

that you are?" muttered he.

"Where is he? where is he," screamed a female voice; "let _me_ see

him. _I'll_ know him, bless his heart! _I'll_ know him any where in

the world."

Saying this, our landlady rushed into the circle, and stood among us,

while we all rose to our feet. She looked eagerly around. Her eye

rested a moment on the stranger's face; and in the next instant her

arms were about his neck, and her head on his bosom, where she shed a

torrent of tears.

I need not add, that the subject of the Landlord's tale, was the very

incident which my companion had related on the road. He soon made his

escape, cowed and chop-fallen; and the poor woman bustled about, to

give us the best the house afforded, occasionally wiping her eyes, or

stopping for a moment to gaze mutely and sadly on the generous

stranger, who had protected her when deserted by him who lay in her

bosom.

The grave brethren looked, as became them, quite scandalized, at this

strange scene. It was therefore promptly explained to them; but the

explanation dissipated nothing of the gloom of their countenances.

Their manner to the poor woman was still cold and displeased, and they

seemed to forget her husband's fault, in their horror at having seen

her throw herself into the arms of a stranger. For my part, I thought

the case of the good Samaritan in point, and could not help believing,

that he who had decided that, would pronounce that her grateful

affection had been bestowed where it was due.

We are permitted by RICHARD RANDOLPH, ESQ. to publish the following

extract, from a Journal kept by his father, the late _David Meade

Randolph_, when a Student at _William & Mary College_ in 1779 under

the patronage of PROFESSOR ANDREWS. It is a curious anecdote and will

be read with interest.