and some of these without a hunter or live stock; they were left without resource, but in begging at other camps. And even where there were hunters, they found it extremely difficult to traverse the hills for game, or to find it when sought; while in a short time the poor beasts, oppressed by cold and want of food, soon became lean and even unfit for use, or unwholesome if eaten. Such also became the case with the tame cattle of the emigrants-many of them died for want of nourishment, or were drowned by floods, as they happened to be on the hills where there was no cane, or on the bottoms which overflowed on the breaking up of the ice. And it is a fact, that part of those dead carcasses became the sole food of some of the unfortunate and helpless travelers. Their arrival in Kentucky, when effected, offered them a supply of wholesome meat, but corn was scarce, and bread, at first obtained with difficulty, soon disappeared and could not be procured.

The very great number who had moved into the country from the interior in the year 1779, compared with the crop of that year, had nearly exhausted all that kind of supply before the end of the winter, and long before the next crop was even in the roasting ear state, in which it was eaten as a substitute for bread, there being of that article none to be had until the new crop became hard. And while the corn was growing to maturity for use, wild meat, the game of the forest, was the only solid food of the multitude; and this, without bread, with milk and butter, was the daily diet of men, women, and children for some months. Delicate or robust, well or ill, rich or poor, black or white, one common fare supplied, and the same common fate attended all. The advance of the vernal season brought out the Indians as usual; and danger of life and limb was added, to whatever else was disagreeable or embarrassing in the condition of the people.

DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER OF KENTUCKY.

THE celebrated Daniel Boone was born in Bucks county, Pennsylvania, in February, 1735-three years after the birth of Washington. When Daniel was a small boy, his family removed to the vicinity of Reading, in Berks county. This was then on the frontiers, and it was here that he received those impressions of character that were so strikingly displayed in his subsequent life. From childhood he delighted to range the woods, watch the wild animals, and contemplate the beauties of nature. He early showed a passion for hunting. No Indian could aim his rifle, find his way through the pathless forest, or search out the retreat of game more readily than Boone. When he was about eighteen years old his family made a second removal to the Yadkin, a mountain stream in the northwestern part of North Carolina. There he married and followed the joint occupation of farmer and hunter. Accustomed, when hunting, to be much alone, he acquired the habit of contemplation

and of self-possession. His mind was not of the most ardent nature; nor does he ever seem to have sought knowledge through the medium of books.

It was on the 1st of May, 1769, that Boone, then the father of a family, made a temporary resignation of his domestic happiness to wander through the rough and savage wilderness, bordering on the Cumberland Mountains, in quest of the far-famed, but little known, country of Kentucky. In this tour he was accompanied by John Finley, John Stewart, Joseph Holden, William Coole, and James Monay. On the 7th of June following, after a journey of five hundred miles, and nearly half of it destitute of a path, they arrived on Red River, where Finley had formerly been as an Indian trader. Here the party determined to take repose after their fatigue, and made themselves a shelter of bark to cover their heads from the showers of the day and the cold dews of night. It was in an excursion from this camp that Daniel Boone first saw with wonder the beauties, and inhaled with delight the odors of a Kentucky summer, on the plains of Licking, Elkhorn, etc. It was also in one of his peregrinations from a second camp that Boone and Stewart, rising the top of a hill, encountered a band of savages. They made prisoners of both, and plundered them of what supplies they had. Seven days were they detained, compelled to march by day, and closely watched by night; when, as a consequence of their well dissembled contentment, the Indians resigned themselves to sleep without a guard on their captives, and they made their escape. Boone and his companion, once more at large, returned to their former camp, which had been plundered and was deserted by the rest of the company, who, alarmed by the appearance of the enemy, had fled home to North Carolina. About this time, Squire Boone, the brother of Daniel, following from Carolina, came up with him and furnished a few necessaries, especially some powder and lead, indispensable to their existence.

Soon after this period John Stewart was killed by the Indians, and the two Boones remained the only white men in the forests of Kentucky. They continued, during the succeeding winter, the only tenants of a cabin, which they, with tomahawks, erected of poles and bark to shelter themselves from the inclemency of the season. The death of John Stewart, being the first perpetrated by the Indians on the white adventurers in Kentucky, deserves to be particularly commemorated. Upon this subject a few facts only have been preserved by tradition. It was in 1769, after Squire Boone had joined his brother and Stewart who had recently been prisoners with the Indians, that the Indians becoming more hostile had recourse to death, instead of bondage, as the surer method of getting rid of their new rivals in the art of hunting. As Boone and his companions were traversing the forest, just disrobed of its foliage, they were suddenly met on the side of a cane-brake, and immediately fired on by a superior party of Indians. John Stewart received a mortal wound and fell while his comrades, incapable of

assisting him, immediately fled. An Indian rushed upon the fallen victim, and winding one hand in the hair on the crown of his head, with a large knife in the other hand took off the scalp, which left bare his skull.

In May, 1770, Squire Boone returned to North Carolina, leaving Daniel, without bread or salt or even a dog, to keep his camp.

Never was a man in greater need of fortitude to sustain his reflections, nor were ever reflections more natural, or without crime, more poignant than those of Boone. He cast his eyes toward the residence of a family always dear to him-he felt the pang which absence gave-he heaved the sigh which affection prompted-his mind was beset with apprehensions of various dangers-despondence stood ready to seize on his soul; when, grasping his gun and turning from the place, he reflected as he proceeded, that Providence had never yet forsaken him; nor, thought he, will I ever doubt its superintending beneficence. No man have I injured, why should I fear injury from any? I shall again see my family, for whom I am now seeking a future home, and happiness, the joy of the meeting, will repay me for all this pain. By this time he had advanced some distance into the extended wood, and progressing, gained an eminence, whence, looking around with astonishment, on the one hand he beheld the ample plain and beauteous fields; on the other the River Ohio, which rolled in silent dignity, marking the north western boundary of Kentucky with equal precision and grandeur. The chirping of the birds solaced his cares with music; the numerous deer and buffalo, which passed him in review, gave dumb assurance that he was in the midst of plentyand cheerfulness once more possessed his mind.

Thus in a second paradise was a second Adam-if the figure is not too strong-giving names to springs, rivers, and places before unknown to civilized white men.

Squire Boone returned in the month of July, and the brothers met at the old camp, as it had been concerted between them. The two, in this year, traversed the country to the Cumberland River, and in 1771, returned to their families, determined to remove them to Kentucky. But this was not immediately practicable.

About the month of September, 1773, Daniel Boone sold his farm on the Yadkin, bade farewell to his less adventurous neighbors, and commenced his removal to Kentucky with his own and five other families. In Powell's Valley he was joined by forty men willing to risk themselves under his guidance. The party was proceeding in fine spirits, when, on the 10th of October, the rear of the company was attacked by a strong ambuscade of Indians, who killed six of the men, and among them the eldest son of Boone.

The Indians were repulsed, and fled, but in the meantime, the cattle belonging to the sojourners were dispersed, the relatives of the deceased greatly affected, and the survivors generally, so disheartened by present feelings and future prospects, that it was

farm. But he was not long permitted to remain unmolested. His title, owing to the imperfect nature of the land laws of Kentucky, was legally decided to be defective, and Boone was deprived of all claim to the soil which he had explored, settled and so bravely defended. In 1795, disgusted with civilized society, he sought a new home in the wilds of the Far West, on the banks of the Missouri, then within the dominion of Spain. He was treated there with kindness and attention by the public authorities, and he found the simple manners of that frontier people exactly suited to his peculiar habits and temper. With them he spent the residue of his days, and was gathered to his fathers, September 26th, 1820, in the 86th year of his age. He was buried in a coffin which he had had made for years, and placed under his bed, ready to receive him whenever he should be called from these earthly scenes. In the summer of 1845, his remains were removed to Frankfort, Kentucky, and a monument erected by public spirited citizens of the place. In person, Boone was five feet ten inches in height, and of robust and powerful proportions. He was ordinarily attired as a hunter, wearing a hunting shirt and moccasins. His biographer, who saw him at his residence on the Missouri River, but a short time before his death, says, that on his introduction to Col. Boone, the impressions were those of surprise, admiration and delight. In boyhood, he had read of Daniel Boone, the pioneer of Kentucky, the celebrated hunter and Indian fighter; and imagination had portrayed a rough, fierce-looking, uncouth specimen of humanity, and of course, at this period of life, a fretful and unattractive old man. But in every respect the reverse appeared. His high, bold forehead was slightly bald, and his silvered locks were combed smooth; his countenance was ruddy and fair, and exhibited the simplicity of a child. His voice was soft and melodious; a smile frequently played over his features in conversation; his clothing was the coarse, plain manufacture of the family; but everything about him denoted that kind of comfort which was congenial to his habits and feelings, and evinced a happy old age. His room was part of a range of log cabins, kept in order by his affectionate daughter and grand-daughters, and every member of the household appeared to delight in administering to the comforts of "grandfather Boone," as he was familiarly called.

When age had enfeebled his once athletic frame, he would make an excursion, twice a year, to some remote hunting-ground, employing a companion, whom he bound by a written contract to take care of him; and should he die in the wilderness, to bring his body to the cemetery which he had selected as a final restingplace.

Boone was a fair specimen of the better class of western pioneers; honest, kind-hearted and liberal-in short, one of nature's noblemen. He abhorred a mean action, and delighted in honesty and truth. While he acknowledged that he used guile with the Indians, he excused it as necessary to counteract their duplicity,

but despised in them this trait of character. He never delighted in shedding human blood, even of his enemies in war, and avoided it whenever he could. His most remarkable quality was an enduring and invincible fortitude.

HUNTING AMONG THE EARLY PIONEERS.

HUNTING was an important part of the employment of the first settlers of the West. For some years the woods supplied them with the greater part of their subsistence, and with regard to some families, at certain times, the whole of it; for it was no uncommon thing for families to live for months without a mouthful of bread. It frequently happened that there was no breakfast until it was obtained from the woods. Fur and peltry were the people's money. They had nothing else to give in exchange for rifles, salt and iron on the other side of the mountains.

The fall and early part of the year was the season for hunting the deer, and the whole of the winter, including part of the spring, for bears and fur-skinned animals. It was a customary saying, that fur was good during every month in the name of which the letter R occurs. As soon as the leaves were pretty well down, and the weather became rainy, accompanied with light snows, the settlers, after acting the part of husbandmen, so far as the state of warfare permitted them so to do, soon began to feel that they were hunters. They became uneasy at home. Everything about them grew disagreeable. The house was too warm; the feather-bed too soft; and even the good wife was not thought, for the time being, a suitable companion. The mind of the hunter was wholly occupied with the camp and the chase.

They would often be seen to get up early in the morning at this season, walk out hastily, and look anxiously to the woods, and snuff the autumnal winds with the highest rapture; then return into the house, and cast a quick and attentive look at the rifle, which was always suspended to a joist by a couple of buckhorns, or little forks. His hunting-dog, understanding the intentions of his master, would wag his tail, and by every blandishment in his power express his readiness to accompany him to the woods. A day was soon appointed for the march of the little cavalcade to the camp. Two or three horses, furnished with pack-saddles, were loaded with flour, Indian-meal, blankets, and everything else requisite for the use of the hunter.

A hunting-camp, or what is called a half-faced cabin, was of the following form: the back part of it was sometimes a large log; at the distance of eight or ten feet from this, two stakes were set in the ground, a few inches apart; and at the distance of eight or ten feet from these two more to receive the ends of the poles for the