A FARMER’S LIFE IN THE WOODS.
(CONTINUED.)

On the 8th of July, I had killed a fawn. The flesh was very delicate, and we had made a hearty feast on it, when Uhl complained of headache and sickness, and though he had frequently boasted of his sound constitution, and maintained that he should never be ill, he began to feel some doubts on the subject. Next day he was very ill, and on the third, about noon, his sickness declared itself as a regular attack of ague. I did all I could to relieve him, but in our loneliness we had little to comfort an invalid. Towards evening he got better, and longed for some blackberries. I took a tin dish, and went to a place about eighty paces from our house, where they grew in quantities; there had formerly been a field here, and the thorns grew thick about the overthrown trees. I was plucking some of the ripest berries from one of the largest bushes, in which I had once or twice heard something move; but as all the cows and calves were near me, and I supposed it proceeded from some of them, I had not taken much notice of the fact, when suddenly the bush opened, and a large, powerful wolf walked deliberately forth; he looked steadily at me, and seemed inclined to declare war. I raised my foot to give him a kick with my heavy fisherman’s boot, for I had no weapon; but he seemed to think better of it, and walked away slowly towards the jungle. I hastened to the house, seized my rifle, and followed his trail; but too late, for he had taken to flight.

July 11th. Uhl was so far recovered as to be able to go to Saint’s, where he could receive better care, and for some time I was alone in my hermitage. I felt very comfortable, having no cares or troubles, paid attention to my charge, supplied them plentifully with salt, and constantly went out shooting, bringing home young turkeys, which were just large enough to be eaten. In the evening, when all was still, I sat in front of the house, by a blazing fire, playing my zither, and was very happy without seeing a human face.

On July 17th I went to Saint’s to see Uhl, and to get some flour and coffee. Uhl was better, and free from fever, but weak. I did not return, as Saint required my assistance. Saint then proposed that, for the summer and autumn, we should move further west, and pitch our camp near Brushy lake, about six miles from Saint’s, where there was better pasture, so that when once the cattle had been driven there, they would not be likely to stray. I was pleased with the plan, as there was more game there, and we only waited Uhl’s recovery to put it in execution.

On July 22nd Uhl felt tolerably well, so we started in company with a long Kentuckyman, who happened to be there, to have a look at the country, and to fix on a place for our tent. As it was late in the afternoon when we started, it was almost dark when we arrived. We were deceived in our expectations of finding game, and had to go hungry to sleep, having brought no provisions with us, except a morsel of bread and a couple of onions. We had made sure of killing a deer before dark, but had reckoned without our host. It was a beautiful night, mosquitoes excepted; we had nothing to wish for beyond a good supper. A bright fire was soon blazing up, for notwithstanding the heat of the days the nights were cold.

Our American friend, Jim by name, was very much afraid of snakes, which abounded in this neighborhood. He could not rest quiet, and repeated a number of stories of this person or that having been bitten by snakes in the night. I let him talk on, while I made preparations to go to sleep.

Half asleep, I still heard the snake stories, till, overpowered by fatigue, Morpheus took me softly in his arms; but there were snakes hanging about me, and some of them grew to an immense size, till at last it seemed as if a very wicked-looking one came straight towards me, crawled under my left knee, and there coiled himself down—yet he kept fidgeting as if he could not make himself quite comfortable. I awoke, and lay for a moment quite still; Jim was yet telling his snake stories to Uhl, who was listening attentively, when I positively felt something move under my knee, and hearing of nothing else, thinking of nothing else, of course I supposed it must be a snake. I dared not raise myself slowly for fear of pressing on the snake, when he would certainly have bitten me. I sprang up as quickly as I could, and at once burst away from my couch: my two comrades, with their brains full of all sorts of monsters, no sooner saw me start up so suddenly, than they followed my example, as if they had been fired from a gun, and we looked at each other in dismay.

I examined the place where I supposed the snake to be, and found a little twig of about eight or nine inches growing out of the ground, and which had been under my knee. We all laughed heartily at our fright, and were soon fast asleep.

Our appetites next morning were very sharp. In the course of a couple of hours Jim shot a squirrel, which afforded but a meagre breakfast for three people. After breakfast we tried again, and with better success on my part, for, happening to espy a deer in the jungle, I knocked him over, and we returned to S.’s well laden with venison. Although we had found several spots suitable for our tent, we had not fixed on any one in particular, and we were well pleased with the place altogether, notwithstanding snakes and mosquitoes.

Hitherto we had always eaten maize bread, because, although S. could grind wheat, he had no means of bolting it; and as it was stacked in the field he decided on sending it to a mill about fifteen miles distant. The wheat was in sheaves, but there was neither barn nor thrashing floor, neither flail nor winnowing machine, nothing to clean it from the straw; however, we set to work Arkansas fashion. The weather was bright and dry, the road before the door as hard as a stone, but dusty: a space about thirty feet in diameter was fenced in, and swept as clean as possible; the sheaves were unbound and laid in a circle, every two sheaves with their ears together, one with the straw to the centre, the other with the straw outwards; six horses were mounted, and ridden round and round, while two men kept shaking down fresh corn; when it had been well trodden out, it had to be sifted.

I had probably worked rather too hard, caught another attack of ague, and was obliged to lie down till evening, when I felt somewhat better. This evening we were visited by a friend of S.’s, or neighbor, as he called himself, though living at a distance of twenty-five miles; but there was neither house nor road between the two. He was called Jim Bahrens, but S. whispered to me that he was nicknamed “lying Bahrens,” and indeed Munchausen would have been obliged to hide his face before him. He was very talkative and amusing; amongst other things, he told us that he had but a small tract of land, but that it was the best and most fertile in the whole world; that he could grow every thing on it, except corn beans (the common garden bean), because the corn grows so fast, that it drags the beans out of the earth. He invited us to come and see him, telling us that he could kill as much game in a day as would weigh 1000 pounds for that he lived among large herds both of buffaloes and deer. We promised to come, and see all these wonders.

On the 1st of August, Uhl told me that he wished to go, being tired of this sort of life; and, indeed, I must allow that I myself was rather sick of it. I was so weak that I could hardly crawl, and saw so many sickly faces around me, that I could not try to persuade him to remain. We divided our property, for hitherto we had had all things in common, and on the same day he marched off to the west. I had no time to indulge in sorrowful thoughts, for the ague attacked me again; having brought some medicine with me from Cincinnati, I took an emetic, and then a dose of quinine, which succeeded in subduing it.

On August 3rd, I felt better, and decided in the afternoon on driving to the mill; but the grain had first to be cleaned. This, without a machine, was rather a difficult matter, but the sharp Americans know how to manage it. Two of the stoutest fellows hold a blanket by the four corners; a third stands on a chair with a sieve full of grain, which he shakes, not too fast, nor too long at a time, while the two with the blanket make as much wind as they can, by working it up and down; the chaff is blown away, while the wheat falls to the ground, and is at once gathered into the sack, though not quite so clean as it would be with our system.

By two o’clock we were able to start, the cart being drawn by oxen, and, owing to their slow discreet pace, it was pitch dark when we arrived at the mill. At so late an hour grinding was out of the question; we lighted our fire, broiled our supper, and laid down in the wagon to sleep till daylight. But the night was so beautiful, the stars shining so mildly down upon us, the wind blowing so soft and warm through the green branches, that we could not sleep, but went on talking. Both my companions were Americans, one of them a strict Methodist, and there was nothing more natural than that we should talk of the stars, then of heaven, then of religion; and as we entertained very different views, our conversation degenerated into a hot dispute, which was put an end to about midnight by a heavy shower of rain, that forced us to seek shelter for ourselves and our sacks.

Next day we began to grind, and slow work it was, for we had to turn the mill with our own oxen, who had no idea of inconveniencing themselves; however, we managed to reach home the same night. The season was now far enough advanced for the leaves of Indian corn to be stripped and laid up as fodder for the winter. This plant, in the southern States, will grow to a height of eleven or twelve feet, and often bears three cobs: the white sort is the best for bread, the yellow, containing more sugar, is best for fodder and for whiskey.

On the 15th of August I received a letter from Uhl, telling me that he was with my old acquaintance, the Rhenish-Bavarian, at Little Red river, and that he was going to join Turowski in farming. I had too lively a remembrance of the kindness of old Hilger not to take a walk to visit him; therefore, as soon as our fodder was all in, I prepared for my journey, and early on the 20th of August I shouldered my rifle, and, with one of S.’s dogs by my side, set off in the hottest season of the year through the dried swamp. The atmosphere was sultry in the extreme, but by evening I had reached the bank of White river, a distance of thirty-two miles, where I passed the night.

I was ferried across at daybreak, and had forty miles to go to reach the Little Red river. The south bank of the White is one of the most fertile in America, on which account it rejoices in the name of “Oiltrove bottom.” Some say that the soil is better than that of the American bottom opposite St. Louis; and this is my opinion, having seen from sixty to seventy bushels of maize to the acre, and pumpkins larger than a man can lift. Trees grow to an enormous size, some of the trunks of the sassafras trees measuring from five to six feet in diameter; pawpaw trees are also very numerous. This last is a small tree bearing a fruit about four or five inches long, and two to two and a half inches thick, having a soft sweetish pulp, with numbers of oily kernels. Generally speaking, the Americans do not value it much, though some are very fond of it. It was not at all to my taste; its bark is very tough, and is useful for a variety of purposes, amongst others for ropes. The valley of the White river is full of these trees, and of the thick American canes, or reeds, which form impenetrable thickets, and are the favorite haunts of bears. Just now this fruit was quite out of favor, and even the pigs would no longer eat it, when a distiller of the name of Magnus tried its qualities, and extracted such a superior spirit from it, that he declared he would not sell a drop of it, but keep it all for his own drinking.

Not to lose time, I had set off in the morning without breakfast, and by the time I had walked six miles had a very respectable appetite. Looking out for a house, I espied one about an hundred paces from the path. The door was open, and the family were just sitting down to breakfast; nothing better could be wished for. I sprang over the fence, and asked a stout pale man if I could have something to eat by paying for it; on receiving the expected answer I joined the company. Maize bread, coffee, and bacon, the usual breakfast in this part of the world, was spread out on the table, and I was preparing to set to with a will, when the man sitting by my side, after looking at me with a mournful expression, asked if I had ever in my life seen a man who was subject to epilepsy. Now such a question could be nowhere more out of place than when addressed to a hungry man sitting down to a good breakfast, so I answered shortly, “Yes, sir.” “Well then,” said he, “don’t be surprised if you see me attacked before breakfast is over, for at times it comes on very suddenly.” If any one had told me that the meat on the table, instead of good pork, was a piece of salted negro, it could not have taken away my appetite more effectually than did this grave announcement. I looked at the man in astonishment: he was very pale, and looked serious, and not at all given to joking. I looked at his wife, who was pale almost to transparency: I looked at the children, who were also deadly pale, but more dirty than transparent. I gulped down the cup of coffee in despair, gave the dog, who probably had not heard the observation, or cared nothing for it, the bread off my plate, which he eagerly took, paid my quarter dollar, the usual price for a breakfast, and continued my journey.

For some time I kept the broad road towards Batesville, then struck off to the left through the forest, and, going tolerably fast, arrived before sunset at the plantation of a widow named Pace, where I intended to pass the night, having still ten miles to go to Little Red river, and no other house near the path. The roof reflected the last beams of the setting sun; my stomach, which had received nothing but the coffee since the previous evening, was beginning to rejoice, when we both found ourselves wofully disappointed—the lady was not at home. The slaves dared not admit any stranger to sleep there. I should not have cared about a roof to sleep under, for the nights were fine and warm, if only I could have obtained something to eat; but this could not be, and I was obliged to employ the fine warm night in walking on to the place of my destination.

After the sun had gone down, my light-colored, well-trodden path was illuminated by the nearly full moon, for I had left the darker lowlands some hours ago, and was traversing dry, but not very fruitful, hills, through the midst of fir-trees. About two miles short of the river, I gained the crest of the hills that divide the waters of the White and Little Red rivers, just as the moon was setting, and my limbs felt as if they were hung with lead. I had gone seventy miles since the previous morning without tasting a regular meal, which was more than flesh and blood could bear for any length of time, and at last I was so overcome by fatigue that I sank down exhausted under a tree without even lighting a fire. The poor dog lay by my side, resting his head on my arm. I might have slept about three hours, for the first gleam of approaching day was lighting up the eastern sky, when I was awakened by the loud, angry bark of the dog. I jumped up, rifle in hand, but could see nothing and hear nothing: I cheered on the dog, but in vain: he would not move from my side, and only barked louder and louder. I fancied he might have scented wolves, and was about to lie down again, when I distinctly heard a rustling in the bush, although there was not a breath of wind. I approached the place cautiously with both barrels cocked, but could discover nothing; and as it was still dark, and no trail perceptible, I could do no more, so lay down again for another short sleep, when I suddenly heard the short piercing roar of a panther, which those who have once heard never forget. My dog answered it with a slight whimper, and crept closer to my side. I now knew the character of my nightly visitor; and tolerably sure that, once frightened away, he would be in no hurry to return, I was soon asleep, and remained so till awakened by the cold air which always precedes the rising sun.

As beautiful a panorama as I had ever beheld lay spread out before me. A sea of forest as far as the eye could reach, in every shade of color, from the darkest green to light blue—the Little Red river winding through the midst of it, while a light downy mist hung about the tips of the trees on its banks. To the west and south-west, the distant mountains cut sharply in a mass of blue against the lighter morning sky. Hills overgrown with pines rose above the darker extent of oak, like islands floating in a deep green sea, as the sun’s rays were reflected from the dewy leaves. Light vapor rising here and there from the valleys, curling over the forest, and vanishing into air, revealed the site of human habitations hidden in the woods. I sat long, lost in contemplation of the lovely scene, and again the question pressed itself upon me—“Why must I enjoy it alone?” Then I remembered my visitor of the past night, and, shaking off all mournful thoughts, looked out for the trail; and there, hardly twenty paces from my bivouac, were the marks of the large round paws of the beast impressed in the loose sand. He had probably tried to creep up to me without being discovered, but the dog had spoiled his sport.

Refreshed by sleep, I hastened down the hill, found a canoe, which took me over the river, and soon the well-known friendly abode of the Rhenish-Bavarian shone invitingly before me. It seemed almost as if it was my home, from which I had been long, long absent, and that all its dear inmates would rush joyfully forward to embrace me. Alas for our dreams!

Hilger and his wife welcomed me with a hearty shake of the hand. I soon felt myself at home and happy with these kind people, and I was not a little delighted with the breakfast, which quickly adorned the table, and which did not taste amiss after my long fast.

Hilger had made vast improvements in his condition since I was here two years ago. He had bought the land, had a pair of horses, several head of cattle and pigs, and lived happy and independent in the circle of his family, which, in the mean time had been increased by the birth of a little prince. His two sons, of fifteen and thirteen, were nice lads, and worked hard with their father to make their way in the world happily and honestly.

Uhl came in in the afternoon from a place belonging to Von G., about two miles off. He looked very pale and wretched, still suffering severely from ague. I was delighted to pass a short time here among Germans, where I could speak my mother-tongue to my heart’s content, and live like a man. Peaches and watermelons grow here in great abundance, and were a treat which I had long been deprived of.

On the second day I went down the river to Von G.’s, who kept the ferry, and in whose house I had passed the night two years ago, on my first arrival. He received me kindly and hospitably. He was a keen sportsman and capital shot, and was extremely lucky in shooting by torchlight, a practice in which he had acquired such perfection as often to shoot three or four deer in a night. On one night when I went out with him, he shot a noble buck, hitting him right in the heart, although he could not see his body, and could only judge of his position by the light reflected from his eyes, and by their movement. I shall describe this sort of shooting more particularly hereafter. I also attempted it, but without success, from want of practice, having yet to learn all the fine touches. We saw the eyes of three wolves, but they were frightened by the fire, and would not come near us.

My health was still far from good; and being one day wet through by a sudden shower, I was again attacked by ague, and obliged to lie fallow for a couple of days. As my illness came on at Von G.’s, he kindly asked me to remain with him till I was better. I gratefully accepted the invitation, and recovered in a few days, when I took a hearty farewell of all my kind friends here, and returned to my marshes.

On the fourth of September I crossed White river, and went on to Little Cash river, passing a distillery, where they made maize whiskey, but sold very little of it, as the three young men, who carried on business in company, drank most of it themselves.

The Cash was so shallow that I crossed it along a fallen tree, and, as it began to rain, I stopped for the night at the house of a man named Harriot. We had finished our simple supper, and were sitting comfortably by a blazing fire, which was crackling up the chimney, when my host, looking at me sideways, cleared his throat, and brought his chair a little nearer to mine, then giving the quid of tobacco in his cheek an extra turn, put to me the unexpected question—“How’s the king of Spain?” I was rather disconcerted at first, and thought he wanted to make fun of me, but when I saw by his countenance, that he was in downright earnest, I replied gravely, that according to the last accounts which I had received His Majesty was suffering from a severe cold;—whereupon he expressed his sincere regret, and then inquired after all the other crowned heads in Europe. As we proceeded in our conversation, I found that by the king of Spain he meant Gustavus Adolphus: he placed Francis the Second of Austria on the throne of France; England was ruled by Constantine the Great; and Germany was presented to Louis Philippe. I was much amused with his wild fantasies. In the meanwhile he kept paying earnest devotion to the whiskey bottle, offering it to me at the same time. I took a little at first, but latterly only put it to my lips for show. The nearer we approached the bottom of the bottle, the wilder danced their majesties across the magic lantern of his imagination. And as we were taking into consideration the case of Russia, which, by our united endeavors, had become a republic, his head began to nod, and his chin had hardly touched his breast when he began to snore. His wife, a simple soul, who had been brought up in the woods, had listened to us with astonishment, and was still holding her mouth open as I turned to seek my bed.

My dreams transported me to my native land—not to the royal palaces I had just left, but to my home, with its much-loved forms. On the 5th of September, I arrived again at Saint’s, and indulged my body with some necessary repose, shattered as it was by so many attacks of the ague. On the 9th, Saint commenced his Indian corn harvest, which lasted till the 11th, and I gave my assistance. The cobs were simply broken away from the stems, and cast into a cart which carried them to the building prepared to receive them. When this work was done, we began another—namely, to clear about half an acre more land, and sow it with turnips.

The western settlers, and particularly those in the south-western states, are not very fond of hard work; in those wild regions they prefer rearing cattle and shooting, to agriculture, and are loth to undertake the hard work of felling trees and clearing land. To make the labor as light as possible, yet still to increase their fields, they generally clear a small space every autumn, and ploughing it very slightly, sow it with turnips, which answer best for new ground. Next year it is fenced in and added to the field.

When about to make a clearing, the American looks out for the largest and straightest oaks, which he fells, and slits into poles, from ten to twelve feet long, for fencing. When he thinks he has enough for this purpose, the rest is cut up and piled; next, the trees which have a diameter of eighteen inches and under, are felled, at about half a yard from the ground, and cut into lengths, while the larger trees are girdled all round with the axe, and very soon die. The shrubs and bushes are then rooted up with a heavy hoe, and, with the help of the neighbors who are invited for the purpose, the whole, except the poles for the fence, is rolled into a heap and set on fire.

As soon as the land is cleared of all that can be easily removed it is fenced in and ploughed. This last work is very severe, and gives the ploughman and cattle many a rough shake, as the ploughshare, catching in the roots, has constantly to be lifted out of the ground, or to be moved out of the way of the standing stumps. These stumps give the fields a very extraordinary appearance; it takes from six to ten years before they rot away entirely. It sometimes happens that the trees killed by girdling are blown down amongst the growing crops, and the settler has a great deal of trouble in removing them.

The land about Saint’s farm, when not inundated, was very fertile, and required little labor. It produced splendid oaks, black and white hickory, and sassafras, which last, though covering the land with bushes, often grows to a large tree. Creepers of all sorts abounded in the woods, amongst which were three sorts of wild vines, the first producing a purple summer grape, which ripens in July, and resembles the cultivated grape, except in being smaller and somewhat sour; the second, winter grapes, also dark, and not ripe till they have been touched by the frost,—properly speaking it is not a grape, and the berry is more like a currant; last and best are the muscadines. These do not grow in bunches, but more like cherries, four or five on a stem; they are purple, with a thick skin, and a very agreeable taste, but if indulged in too freely, they are said to produce ague, an opinion in which I agree. Indeed, some of my attacks must be laid to their account; quantities of muscadines grew where we were at work, and I ate a great many of them. They ripen in September, and when they fall, they are greedily sought for by pigs, bears, opossums, raccoons, and turkeys.

As we had had hard work for some days, I resolved on taking a holiday, and riding to the gunsmith’s, about twelve miles off, to get some repairs to my rifle. When I awoke in the morning, I had a dreadful head-ache, but I got up, and mounted the horse, hoping to drive away the pain with the fresh morning air. I had hardly gone a mile, when I was seized with such a giddiness, that I could with difficulty keep my seat. I galloped back as fast as possible, and crept shivering under my buffalo-skin, but the ague crept in with me and kept me there all that day and night. The next morning I was so much worse, that I thought my last hour was approaching. I took one of the emetics I had brought with me from Cincinnati, but without effect; the fever changed from cold to hot, and increased every hour. On the nights of the 16th and 17th of September, I was delirious; what I may have said I know not, as they told me that I spoke German.

Saint could not procure a doctor. The nearest lived twenty miles off, and was seldom at home: this probably saved my life, for had I fallen into the hands of one of these American quacks, I might have prepared for my last journey. Saint happened to have some pills in the house, made by J. Sappington, and gave me one. Whether it was from the pill, or my own good constitution, I was better on the 18th, and could move about the house, and enjoy a little food, after my four days’ fast; I was very weak for a long time. I must ever remember with gratitude the kind interest with which these worthy Americans attended and nursed the poor stranger.

It was by no means agreeable to remain ill in the swamps, having shortly before heard accounts of burials, which left it out of all doubt that some of the poor creatures supposed to be dead had been buried alive. Mrs. S. spoke of one case in particular, on the St. Francis river, where the ground was so wet and swampy, that the man’s comrades, for they were out on a shooting excursion, put the body into a canoe, and brought it down to the place where the Saints then lived, and where the land was dry. On account of the greater heat in the southern States, they do not stand on so much ceremony with a dead body, as is the case in the north: so, as soon as they could after landing, they placed it in a grave, which they dug with the assistance of the inhabitants of the place. Mrs. S. assured me that she had never seen such a corpse. His limbs were quite pliant, and almost warm, and his cheeks still red; but the cold earth soon covered him, and nothing was ever said on the subject.

By the 29th September I was pretty well again, and helped S. to get in the corn from the more distant field; but as it came on to rain, I was none the better for it. On the first October an old man from Tennessee came with his son to the marshes to buy cattle. We mounted to drive them together that they might see them, for at this season, when the grass is everywhere in abundance, the beasts do not remain in one place, but are one day here, the next day there. There cannot be a better place in the world for cattle than the marshes. In summer the woods are filled with pea-vine as high as the knees, as well as with the finest grass, wild oats, and wild rye; in the winter the evergreen canebrakes afford the finest pasture for cattle and deer, and winter grass grows in many parts of the marshes.

We worked our way through thorns and creepers, reeds and forests, and almost impenetrable sassafras bushes, and came back without having seen a single horn. One of the consequences was that I was again laid up, but this time I had a companion in the young stranger, who had thus to pay his footing in the swamps. On the second day he was so ill that his life was despaired of; but at last he recovered.

On the 7th October I rode for the sake of exercise, towards a settlement about twelve miles off. It began to get dark when I reached the house of a Mrs. Lane, who seeing me look so wretched and worn, kindly invited me to rest there. Mrs. Lane might be held up as a good specimen of American women. She was very simply dressed, but in good taste, and every thing in the house, where she lived with her two daughters, remarkably pretty girls, was scrupulously neat and clean.

They listened with pleasure to my accounts of distant Europe, the sort of life people led there, the luxury of the rich and the misery of the poor, particularly in large towns, the general fondness for society, and the good qualities of many of all stations, high and low; they shook their heads and said, “The other side of the great ocean must be a curious place!” It was late when I rolled myself in a blanket before the fire, to sleep sweetly and calmly during the night. In the morning my headache returned, and shivering limbs announced the enemy. There was no time for delay; I buckled the girths with trembling hands, and went in to take leave: the kind folks had some hot coffee ready for me, which might delay but could not prevent the attack. I went on about three miles to the smithy, and explained my wishes, and then turned the horse’s head toward the house of Mr. Dunn: how I got there is more than I can say,—I have a faint remembrance of a piercing headache, and dreadful weakness—that I often lay upon the horse’s neck, when the gentle animal stood still, and did not move till I could sit upright again. Dunn’s house was about three miles from the smith’s; on arriving, I slipped off rather than dismounted. The old man soon saw what was the matter with me, and bringing out a glass of some green liquid, he made me take a good gulp of it: its excessive bitterness seemed to cut me in two, and I asked with horror what was the stuff he had given me. He laughed at the face I made, and told me it was something quite new and his own invention: it was bear’s gall and whiskey, and he was not a little proud of his medicine. I slept well during the night, and returned to S.’s next day. I was very sorry not to have been in better condition on the evening that I passed at Dunn’s, for he was a good old fellow, and very amusing with his dry stories.

On the evening of the 18th October, S. came back from Strong’s, where he had bought a couple of negro children, and brought them home on a led horse. One was a boy about fifteen years old, as black as pitch, and with a regular Ethiopian cast of countenance; as he crossed the threshold, he examined every one present, with a rapid glance of his large dark eyes, and then looked unconcernedly at all the furniture, &c., as if all that was of no consequence to him. The other was a little girl of about eleven, who seemed already to have gone through some hard work. When she saw so many strange faces, a tear glittered in her eyes: she had been sold away from her parents, whom she would probably never more behold, and stood an image of suppressed grief. The boy was from Maryland, had been taken by sea to New Orleans, and from thence brought here. He had been told that he had fallen to a kind master, and his countenance seemed to say that was enough, happen what might.

On the following Sunday, I had another attack of ague, which I could not shake off for some days. In the evening two strangers arrived; and although they came from opposite directions, they seemed to be well acquainted, as they frequently conversed in a whisper. After supper, when we were in the second house, where we all slept, they consulted together about their future plans, which consisted in no less than their travelling about the country, and keeping a gaming table, pretending all the while to be unknown to each other, and so playing into each other’s hands: their designs were to be principally carried on among the Indians, particularly the Cherokees, as they thought they were more easily cheated than the whites. But perhaps the two scoundrels had not been able to agree, for on the following morning they parted, one of them passing off a false five-dollar note on S., who was not a little annoyed when he some time afterwards made the discovery. I was about to ride in the same direction that the other fellow took, and when he saw my horse saddled, he expressed his delight at having the pleasure of my company; but I said dryly: “I am not going to ride with a scoundrel.” At the word “scoundrel,” he flew into a rage, and began to feel for his knife or pistol, on which I quietly brought my rifle to my shoulder: he bit his lip and rode off at a sharp trot. After waiting a short time I followed, taking the route to Cash river to bring home some dogs, for S. and I saw nothing more of him.

Arkansas was overrun at this time with a number of bad characters, gamblers, drunkards, thieves, murderers, who all thought that the simple-minded backwoodsmen were easier to be cheated than the wary settlers in the older states. This circumstance had given so bad a name to Arkansas, that many thought all its inhabitants went about armed to the teeth with pistols and bowie-knives; but I have traversed the State in all directions, and met with as honest and upright people as are to be found in any other part of the Union.

On the 24th October, two heavily laden carts arrived, each drawn by one horse: they contained all sorts of things useful for settlers. Their owners are called peddlers, and they ask high prices for their goods, and are said to make a good thing of it. S. bought only a few trifles.

S. having sold most of his cattle, decided on parting with this farm, and removing to Oiltrove bottom. Our contract having been dissolved by Uhl’s departure and my frequent sickness, was no longer to be thought of. Preparations were made for moving; S. had been already to White river and made his purchase. When about to start, we found that two more oxen were necessary: we had four, but the load was too heavy with such soft boggy roads. So we rode into the woods, and drove a couple of wild bulls into the inclosure, threw nooses over their horns, and fastened them to trees. They made tremendous efforts to free themselves, jerking the leather thongs with all their force; and when they found all their struggles were in vain, they threw themselves on the ground and bellowed with rage. Thus they remained all the day and night, during which we gave them nothing but a little water to quench their thirst. About nine o’clock next morning they were yoked each with a steady old hand; the whips cracked, voices shouted, and partly from the shower of blows that fell on them, partly dragged along by their stout companions, after four or five hours’ useless opposition, they went as well as if they had done nothing all their lives but draw a cart.

The heavy wagon made slow progress along the muddy tracts, softened by the autumnal rains. We arrived at White river on the morning of the 4th November, and had to wait on the bank till evening, as it was blowing a storm, and it would have been dangerous to trust the heavy wagon to the ferry-boat in such weather.

White river is beyond all dispute the most beautiful river of Arkansas. Its clear waves form a striking contrast to those of the Mississippi and Red river; only towards its mouth the banks are low, and the land swampy; higher up it is enclosed by picturesque hills. It rises in the Ozark mountains, in the north-west angle of the State, where there is game in abundance; it divides into two arms, one of which falls into the Mississippi, and the other into the Arkansas.

As the wind fell, the dry cold air changed into a damp fog, which soon turned to rain, and we were glad to find shelter under the roof of a free negro, who kept a sort of tavern. Merry peals of laughter resounded from the well-lighted room, where a bright fire was blazing, and very comfortable did its warmth appear to us after our exposure to the weather. Three jovial looking fellows were sitting round it, telling stories, and roaring with laughter. Three long American rifles, with their shot-belts hanging on them, leaning in a corner, showed that the party, if not regular woodsmen, were at least out on a shooting excursion. A half empty whiskey-bottle stood on the table, and after a short conversation, I learnt that the little fat man, with sparkling eyes and ruby nose, sitting enjoying himself in the corner, and making constant love to the whiskey-bottle, was Magnus the distiller, who, with a couple of friends, was on his way to the swamps from whence we came, for the sake of buffalo hunting. The little man drank my health, and amused me very much with his drolleries. He could think of nothing but buffaloes, swore only by buffaloes, made bets in buffalo-skins, estimated every thing by their value, and tormented the small modicum of understanding which the whiskey had left in his brains, to devise how he should be able to transport at the greatest advantage the skins of all the buffaloes he meant to kill.

It was all in vain that I attempted to give him an idea of the almost impenetrable swamps, of the difficulty of finding the few buffaloes which were there, and of the almost impossibility when found of bringing their skins or any other part away; his countenance bore the same joyous, amicable expression as before. When I had finished my remarks, he handed me the bottle, which I put to my lips without drinking. In a voice trembling with emotion, he assured me that he was prepared to venture every thing, even life itself, for the sake of killing a buffalo, and when life was at stake, who could take into consideration a few insignificant swamp-holes or thorns! And then, as it struck him that he was a father of a family, his voice became weaker and more tremulous, his emotion increased, a flood of tears gushed from his eyes, and before I was aware, the little round figure was hanging to my neck. The heavy weight forced from me a sigh, which he took for sympathy, and he began to squeeze so hard that I was afraid I should be suffocated, when his two friends, who had been more moderate with the bottle, sprang to my rescue. But this was no easy matter, and as he clung to me he cried out, “Let me alone! he’s my friend—he, he will save me!” I escaped from him by a sudden wrench, and his companions carried him off to bed, he all the while throwing about his little fat arms and legs, and calling them good-for-nothing buffalo dogs. Then he again began to whine and cry, the sounds changing gradually, first into a groan and then into a snore.

We arrived at the new farm about noon next day, and found the former proprietors loading their wagon. They took their leave in the afternoon, and left as a memorial an incredible quantity of dirt. As soon as our wagon was cleared, and the things under cover, S. returned with the two drivers for another load, leaving me in the house alone. It was in the midst of a thick forest, with a field of about seven acres, surrounded by the largest trees. But I had not much time to contemplate the beauties of Nature, for in unloading and stowing away, the hours had flown on the wings of the wind. The sun had set before I had collected wood from the forest to keep up a fire for the night, or had had time to prepare my supper; the latter duty did not take long, for my whole store of provisions consisted of maize flour, dried venison, and wild honey.

Darkness, thick darkness, lay upon the slumbering earth: yielding up my imagination to memorials of old times, I drew the solitary chair to the blazing fire, took out my zither, and with soft mournful tones, soothed the home-sickness, which in loneliness forces itself on the heart. After a time, overcome by fatigue, I extended myself on my buffalo skin before the fire, and soon a succession of fantastic dreams flitted across my brain. The little fat distiller sat with me and mine in a garden at Leipzig, relating all the hardships and dangers which he had undergone at the buffalo hunt, while my dear mother listened to him with astonishment: many other loved forms were sitting round a large table, each with their coffee before them, when we were all disturbed by a loud knocking at the gate, and started up to see what was the matter, except the little distiller, who laughingly told us it was only a tame buffalo that he had tied up at the gate. The knocking growing louder and louder, I jumped up in alarm: the fire was burnt out, thick darkness surrounded me, but the repeated loud knocking shook off the remains of sleep, and I hastened to the door.

One of the drivers who had left the day before, stepped into the room, his teeth chattering with ague. I made haste to light the fire, which soon burnt up brightly, and then looked to my patient, who had sunk down on a chair, telling me with a weak voice that his last hour was come. Luckily, I had some coffee at hand, and made him drink a couple of cups as hot as possible, sweetened with honey. He then threw himself on the skin and was soon asleep. Next day he was somewhat better, and we passed the time as well as we could, till S. should come with his second load. I employed myself in collecting wood for the fire, and in shooting turkeys, to make our provisions last. After a week, during the last days of which we had lived on turkeys and pumpkins, taking the latter, which were very sweet and delicate, from the field of a neighbor at no great distance, S. arrived with the rest of his property, cows, horses, pigs, geese, cats, chickens, and dogs. Then there was all the bustle of arranging and settling, and then another attack of ague, which seemed regularly to have fixed itself on me in this unhealthy country. I bore up against it, but was not well enough to mount a horse till the 20th November, when I took a ride of four or five miles with my rifle, for a breath of fresh air.

These swamps and morasses partly realize the idea which Europeans entertain of the primitive forest, but in which they are frequently deceived, for the simple reason, that on the higher dry grounds which are covered with dry leaves and wood, fires are often made, not only by shooting parties, but by the settlers, for the sake of the grass, which comes up all the sooner when all these enormous quantities of leaves, &c., have been burnt; and the fire does not consume the young plants only, but considerably checks the growth of the older trees, excepting in the marshes, where the ground even in summer is moist; and there the trees grow to a colossal grandeur—I have seen some measuring seven, eight, and even nine feet in diameter.

Towards evening I saw a young buck, walking quietly and circumspectly through the wood; I dismounted, and left the horse to graze at leisure, while I crept nearer. He stopped when he saw the horse pawing the ground, raised his handsome head, and snuffed the air; my ball whistled through his ribs, and he fell lifeless to the ground. Weak as I was, it was some time before I could lift the not very large animal on to the horse, when I rode slowly homewards. Just before dark, I shot a turkey with the other barrel, and did not load again, not expecting to get another shot so late in the evening. The full moon set its soft silvery light among the dark shadows of the trees, to point out my path. I might have ridden for about an hour and a half through the thick forest on my heavily laden horse, and had gained a cattle track, which led to the house; the stillness of the night was broken by the cow-bells, the baying of the dogs and the neigh of my horse, in expectation of a good supper, when there was a sudden rustling among the bushes on my right. I pulled up, and a herd of swine rushed in wild haste across the path, just in front of me. I was about to ride on, when I heard further rustling amongst the dry leaves, and then one of the largest bears of the swamps stood in the path, not above six paces from my horse’s nose. He did not seem to know what to make of the figure looming through the glade of the forest by the light of the moon, and began to snuff the air. My rifle was not loaded, and the thought flashed upon me, that I should have to fight it out with the knife; but I resolved first to try and send him a bit of lead. I placed the butt of my gun on my left toe, and succeeded in loading; but, as I was about to place the copper cap, the horse, who had hitherto stood quite still, seemed inclined to examine the object before him a little closer, and giving a snort he made a step forward. Master Bruin, however, did not seem to like this, and with one bound he was in the jungle. Having finished my loading, I slipped off my horse, and crept into the bushes to get a shot, if possible. I may have gone about twenty paces over the dry leaves, when I stood still to listen. Not the slightest sound was to be heard; though I was firmly convinced that the bear could not be above ten paces off, for the leaves were so dry that if he had gone further I must have heard it. I raised my foot gently to make another step forward, when the bear, who had been standing so motionless before me that I took him for the root of a fallen tree, almost brushed my face, and took himself off with a growl; before I could recover from my surprise he had disappeared.

I returned, quite disappointed, to my horse, who remained quietly grazing, and rode away with two good resolutions in my head,—first, never to go a step with my gun unloaded; secondly, to seek a nearer acquaintance with Bruin on the morrow, if possible.

On the 22nd November, I was early afoot, and although the weather was cold and disagreeable, I set off with a neighbor and eleven dogs, full of joyous hopes.

Bear-shooting in America differs according to the time of the year, and the habits of the animal. It was now late in the autumn, almost winter, so that they could be hunted with dogs. Well mounted, with not less than from four to about eight or ten dogs, the hunters seek in the thickest and most unfrequented parts of the forest the favorite haunts of the bear. The men ride slowly through the thorns and creepers, the dogs seeking in all directions till they find a fresh trail, or a bear breaks cover, when they follow up in full cry. If the bear is fat he seldom runs far, but takes to a tree, or shows fight; if there are not dogs enough to master him, he knocks them over and continues his flight. If he takes to a tree, his fate is soon sealed by the rifle.

We had ridden along quietly for about an hour, when the dogs gave tongue, and started off, we after them as well as we could. My horse was an old hand at it, and I had nothing to do but to sit fast as he leaped the fallen trees, and try to avoid the creepers, which however often checked, and sometimes threw us.

Keeping up with the dogs was out of the question. I had long lost sight of my companion; I listened, and it appeared that the bear had turned to the left, towards the river; could he reach it he was safe,—it was too cold for the dogs—besides, they would hardly venture to swim, and we also must have remained on the bank.

I changed my course to cut him off, and luckily hit upon one of the cattle tracks that cross the wood in all directions. Once clear of the thorns, we went at a good pace, and soon heard the pack approaching. Suddenly the horse swerved to one side with a snort, and the bear burst out of the thicket. The moment he saw the horse, he stopped short and gave a deep growl. I had sprung off, and the bear had hardly

stopped, when my ball was in his shoulder. The pack was close upon him, and he summoned all his strength to escape from the dogs; but the wounded shoulder checked his pace, the dogs attacked him, and he rose on his hind legs to oppose them. I could not venture a second shot for fear of injuring some of them, so charged him with my knife, and plunged it from behind the shoulder into his heart; this, with the furious bites of the dogs, soon ended his life.

My companion arrived at this moment, tired to death, all torn with the thorns, and his horse covered with foam. He was not a little vexed at coming too late; however, he helped to break up the bear, and strip off his skin,—and as each of us had a bag under the saddle, we divided the prize, and rode slowly home. The carcase is always equally divided amongst the hunters; the skin belongs to the first shot.