I had left the village of Shawaney, situated on the banks of the Ohio,
on my return to Henderson, which is also situated on the banks of the
same beautiful stream. The weather was pleasant, and I thought not
warmer than usual at that season. My horse was jogging quietly along,
and my thoughts were for once, at least, in the course of my life,
entirely engaged in commercial speculations. I had forded Highland
Creek, and was on the eve of entering a tract of bottom-land, or valley
that lay between it and Canoe Creek, when on a sudden I remarked a great
difference in the aspect of the heavens. A hazy thickness had overspread
the country, and I for some time expected an earthquake, but my horse
exhibited no propensity to stop and prepare for such an occurrence. I
had nearly arrived at the verge of the valley, when I thought fit to
stop near a brook, and dismounted to quench the thirst which had come
upon me.