Audubon and His Journals, Volume 2

Extracts from Mr. Culbertson's Journal, kept at Fort McKenzie, Blackfeet Indian Country in 1834.[45]

"Friday, June 13. Blood Indians started this morning to go to war against the Crows. They had not left long, when the 'Old Bull's Backfat's' son, with his sister, brother, and brother-in-law, returned to the fort, saying they must go back to the camp. After I had given them tobacco and ammunition they all started, but did not get more than two miles from the fort before they were all killed by the Crows, except one, who by some means leaped on one of the Crow horses and fled to the fort. The squaw no doubt was taken prisoner, as in the evening I went out and found the bodies of her husband and brother, but she was not there. On Saturday, the 14th, I went out and brought in the bodies, and had them decently interred. The young man who had escaped was only slightly wounded, and started again for the camp with three Gros Ventres.

"Tuesday, 24th. We were all surprised this evening at the arrival of the squaw who had been taken prisoner, and who had been carried to the Crow village where she was kept tied every night until the one in which she made her escape. During the previous day having it in contemplation to escape, she took the precaution of hiding a knife under her garment of skins, but most unfortunately she went out with one of the Crow squaws, and in stooping, the knife fell out; this was reported, and as a punishment she was stripped of every particle of clothing, and when night came was not tied, as it was not imagined she would leave the cover of the tent. However, she decided nothing should keep her from availing herself of the only opportunity she might ever have; she started with absolutely no covering of any kind, and in this plight she travelled across the prairies, almost without stopping to rest, and with little food, for four days and three nights; unfortunately the weather was unusually cold for the season, as well as wet. She arrived at the fort in a most wretched and pitiable condition, but greatly to the joy and consolation of her relations and friends. She said that after her arrival at the Crow village, they made her dance with the scalps of her brother and husband tied to her hair, and clothed in the bloody shirt of the latter. On Wednesday, 25th, a band of four hundred Crows arrived with the intention of taking the fort by stratagem if they could get the opportunity; but they failed in this, as I would not allow one of them inside the fort, or to come within firing distance of their arms. They used every artifice in their power to persuade me to let in a few of them to smoke the pipe of peace, assuring me that their intentions were good, and that they loved the white people. Finding all this of no avail, they brought their best horses to give to me, for which they did not wish to receive anything more than the privilege of letting some of them come in; but all this was in vain, as I was well aware of their treacherous intentions. I divided my men in the two bastions, with orders to fire upon the first one that might approach during the night, and warned them of my having given such orders, telling them that I did not wish to strike the first blow, but that if they commenced they would go off with small numbers, and sore hearts. There was an American with them who now told me of their intentions, and that they were determined to take the fort. I sent them word by him that we were ready for them if they thought themselves able to do so, and to come and try; but when they saw our cannon pointed towards them, they were not so anxious to make a rush. On the 26th the Crows made another attempt to get in, but after a long and persuasive talk they found that it would not do. They then crossed the river and came on the high bank opposite to the fort, and fired upon us, and while some of them were yet crossing the river I let loose a cannon ball among them, which, if it did no harm, made them move at a quick pace, and after a while they all went off, leaving us without food of any sort; but fortunately on Monday the 30th, a party of Blood Indians came in from the Crows with fifteen horses and considerable meat. The Crows had taken all our horses shortly before, and promised to return them in a few days if I would let them in. I was also informed that they had even brought pack-horses to carry off the goods from the fort after having accomplished the destruction of the building and the massacre of ourselves."

From these extracts the nature of the Indians of these regions may be exemplified a thousand times better, because true, than by all the trashy stuff written and published by Mr. Catlin.

DESCRIPTION OF FORT UNION

By EDWIN T. DENIG. July 30, 1843

"Fort Union, the principal and handsomest trading-post on the Missouri River, is situated on the north side, about six and a half miles above the mouth of the Yellowstone River; the country around it is beautiful, and well chosen for an establishment of the kind. The front of the fort is but a few steps, say twenty-five, from the bank of the Missouri. Behind the fort is a prairie with an agreeable ascent to the commencement of the bluffs, about one and a half miles in width, and two in length, surrounded at the borders with high hills, or bluffs. Above and below, at the distance of two hundred yards commence the points, or bottoms, of the Missouri, which contain great quantities of cottonwood, ash, and elm, supplying the fort with fuel, boat and building timber. The fort itself was begun in the fall of 1829, under the superintendence of Kenneth McKenzie, Esq., an enterprising and enlightened Scotchman, and now a well known and successful merchant in St. Louis. As the immense deal of work about such an undertaking had but few men to accomplish it, it was not wholly completed till after the expiration of four years, and indeed since then has been greatly improved by the other gentlemen who subsequently took charge of the fort. The plan of the fort is laid nearly due north and south, fronting 220 feet and running back 240 feet. This space is enclosed by pickets or palisades of twenty feet high, made of large hewn cottonwood, and founded upon stone. The pickets are fitted into an open framework in the inside, of sufficient strength to counterbalance their weight, and sustained by braces in the form of an X, which reaches in the inside from the pickets to the frame, so as to make the whole completely solid and secure, from either storm or attack. On the southwest and northeast corners, are bastions, built entirely out of stone, and measuring 24 feet square, over 30 feet high, and the wall three feet thick; this is whitewashed. Around the tops of the second stories are balconies with railings, which serve for observatories, and from the tops of the roofs are two flag-staffs 25 feet high, on which wave the proud Eagle of America. Two weathercocks, one a Buffalo bull, the other an Eagle, complete the outsides. In the interior of the northeast bastion are placed opposite their port-holes one three-pounder iron cannon and one brass swivel, both mounted, and usually kept loaded, together with a dozen muskets in case of a sudden attack from the Indians. Balls, cartridges, and other ammunition are always in readiness for the use of the same. The contents of the southeast bastion are similar to those of the other, with the exception of the cannon, having but one small swivel. These and other preparations render the place impregnable to any force without, not furnished with artillery. The principal building in the establishment, and that of the gentleman in charge, or Bourgeois, is now occupied by Mr. Culbertson, one of the partners of the Company. It is 78 feet front by 24 feet depth, and a story and a half high. The front has a very imposing appearance, being neatly weather-boarded, and painted white, and with green window-shutters; it is roofed with shingle, painted red to preserve the wood. In the roof in front are four dormer windows, which serve to give light to the attic. The piazza in front adds much to the comfort and appearance, the posts are all turned, and painted white. It serves as a pleasant retreat from the heat of the day, and is a refreshing place to sleep at night when mosquitoes are plenty. Mr. Audubon, the naturalist, now here upon scientific researches, together with his secretary, Mr. Squires, prefer this hard bed to the more luxurious comforts of feathers and sheets. The interior of this building is handsomely papered and ornamented with portraits and pictures, and portioned off in the following manner. Mr. Culbertson has the principal room, which is large, commodious, and well-furnished; from it he has a view of all that passes within the fort. Next to this is the office, which is devoted exclusively to the business of the Company, which is immense. This department is now under my supervision (viz., E. T. Denig). These two rooms occupy about one-half the building. In the middle is a hall, eight feet wide, which separates these rooms from the other part. In this is the mess-room, which is nearly equal in size to that of Mr. Culbertson. Here the Bourgeois, taking his seat at the head of the table, attends to its honors, and serves out the luxuries this wilderness produces to his visitors and clerks, who are seated in their proper order and rank. The mechanics of the fort eat at the second table. Adjoining this room is the residence of Mr. Denig. In the upper story are at present located Mr. Audubon and his suite. Here from the pencils of Mr. Audubon and Mr. Sprague emanate the splendid paintings and drawings of animals and plants, which are the admiration of all; and the Indians regard them as marvellous, and almost to be worshipped. In the room next to this is always kept a selection of saddlery and harness, in readiness for rides of pleasure, or for those rendered necessary for the protection of the horses which are kept on the prairie, and which suffer from frequent depredations on the part of the Indians, which it is the duty of the men at the fort to ward off as far as possible. The next apartment is the tailor's shop, so placed as to be out of the way of the Indian visitors as much as possible, who, were it at all easy of access, would steal some of the goods which it is necessary to have always on hand. So much for the principal house. On the east side of the fort, extending north and south, is a building, on range, all under one roof, 127 ft. long by 25 ft. deep, and used for the following purposes. A small room at the north end for stores and luggage; then the retail store, in which is kept a fair supply of merchandise, and where all white persons buy or sell. The prices of all goods are fixed by a tariff or stationary value, so that no bargaining or cheating is allowed; this department is now in charge of Mr. Larpenteur. Adjoining this is the wholesale warehouse, in which is kept the principal stock of goods intended for the extensive trade; this room is 57 ft. in length. Next is a small room for the storage of meat and other supplies. At the end is the press room, where all robes, furs, and peltries are stored. The dimensions extend to the top of the roof inside, which roof is perfectly waterproof. It will contain from 2800 to 3000 packs of Buffalo robes. All this range is very strongly put together, weather-boarded outside, and lined with plank within. It has also cellar and garret. Opposite this, on the other side of the fort enclosure, is a similar range of buildings 119 ft. long by 21 ft. wide, perhaps not quite so strongly built, but sufficiently so to suit all purposes. The height of the building is in proportion to that of the pickets; it is one large story high, and shingle-roofed. This is partitioned off into six different apartments of nearly equal size. The first two are appropriated to the use of the clerks who may be stationed at the post. The next is the residence of the hunters, and the remaining three the dwellings of the men in the employ of the Company. An ice-house 24 by 21 ft. is detached from this range, and is well filled with ice during the winter, which supply generally lasts till fall. Here is put all fresh meat in the hot weather, and the fort in the summer season is usually provisioned for ten days. The kitchen is behind the Bourgeois' house on the north side, and about two steps from the end of the hall,—so situated for convenience in carrying in the cooked victuals to the mess-room. Two or three cooks are usually employed therein, at busy times more. The inside frame-work of the fort, which sustains the pickets, forms all around a space about eight feet wide described by the braces or X, and about fifteen feet high. A balcony is built on the top of this, having the summit of the X for its basis, and is formed of sawed plank nailed to cross beams from one brace to another. This balcony affords a pleasant walk all round the inside of the fort, within five feet of the top of the pickets; from here also is a good view of the surrounding neighborhood, and it is well calculated for a place of defence. It is a favorite place from which to shoot Wolves after nightfall, and for standing guard in time of danger. The openings that would necessarily follow from such a construction, under the gallery, are fitted in some places with small huts or houses. Behind the kitchen there are five of such houses, leaving at the same time plenty of space between them and the other buildings. The first of these is a stable for Buffalo calves, which are annually raised here, being caught during the severe storms of winter; the second a hen-house, well lined, plastered, and filled with chickens; third, a very pleasant room intended as an artist's work-room, fourth, a cooper's shop, and then the milk house and dairy. Several houses of the same kind and construction are also built on the west and south sides; one contains coal for the blacksmith, and ten stables, in all 117 ft. long, and 10 ft. wide, with space enough to quarter fifty horses. These are very useful, as the Company have always a number of horses and cattle here. These buildings, it will be understood, do not interfere with the Area or Parade of the fort, and are hardly noticed by a casual observer, but occupy the space under the balcony that would otherwise be useless and void. Fifty more of the same kind could be put up without intruding upon any portion of the fort used for other purposes. On the front side, and west of the gate, is a house 50 by 21 feet, which, being divided into two parts, one half opening into the fort, is used as a blacksmith's, gunsmith's, and tinner's shop; the other part is used as a reception-room for Indians, and opens into the passage, which is made by the double gate. There are two large outside gates to the fort, one each in the middle of the front and rear, and upon the top of the front one is a painting of a treaty of peace between the Indians and whites executed by J. B. Moncrévier, Esq. These gates are 12 ft. wide, and 14 ft. high. At the front there is an inside gate of the same size at the inner end of the Indian reception room, which shuts a passage from the outside gate of 32 ft. in length, and the same width as the gate; the passage is formed of pickets. The outside gate can be left open, and the inside one closed, which permits the Indians to enter the reception room without their having any communication with the fort. Into this room are brought all trading and war parties, until such time as their business is ascertained; there is also behind this room a trade shop, and leading into it a window through which the Indians usually trade, being secure from rain or accident; there is also another window through the pickets to the outside of the fort, which is used in trading when the Indians are troublesome, or too numerous. The Powder Magazine is perhaps the best piece of work, as regards strength and security, that could be devised for a fort like this. The dimensions are 25 by 18 ft.; it is built out of stone, which is a variety of limestone with a considerable quantity of sand in its composition. The walls are 4 ft. thick at the base, and increasing with the curve of the arch become gradually thicker as they rise, so that near the top they are about 6 ft. in thickness. The inside presents a complete semicircular arch, which is covered on the top with stones and gravel to the depth of 18 inches. The whole is covered with a shingle roof through which fire may burn yet with no danger to the powder within. There are two doors, one on the outside, the other a few feet within; the outer one is covered with tin. There are several other small buildings under the balcony, which are used for harness, tool-houses, meat, etc. The space behind the warehouse between that and the pickets, being free from buildings, affords a good horse yard, and some shelter to the horses in bad weather. The area of the fort within the fronts of the houses is 189 ft. long, and 141 ft. wide. In the centre of this arises a flag-staff 63 ft. high. This is surrounded at the base by a railing and panel work in an octagonal form, enclosing a portion of ground 12 ft. in diameter, in which are planted lettuce, radishes, and cress, and which presents at the same time a useful and handsome appearance. By the side of this stands a mounted four-pounder iron cannon. This flag-staff is the glory of the fort, for on high, seen from far and wide, floats the Star Spangled Banner, an immense flag which once belonged to the United States Navy, and gives the certainty of security from dangers, rest to the weary traveller, peace and plenty to the fatigued and hungry, whose eyes are gladdened by the sight of it on arriving from the long and perilous voyages usual in this far western wild. It is customary on the arrivals and departures of the Bourgeois, or of the boats of gentlemen of note, to raise the flag, and by the firing of the cannon show them a welcome, or wish them a safe arrival at their point of destination. When interest and affection are as circumscribed as here, they must necessarily be more intense, and partings are more regretted, being accompanied by dangers to the departing friends, and meetings more cordial, those dangers having been surmounted. The casualties of the country are common to all, and felt the more by the handful, who, far from civilization, friends, or kindred, are associated in those risks and excitements which accrue from a life among savages. About two hundred feet east of Fort Union is an enclosure about 150 ft. square, which is used for hay and other purposes. Two hundred and fifty good cart-loads of hay are procured during the summer and stacked up in this place for winter use of horses and cattle, the winter being so severe and long, and snow so deep that little food is to be found for them on the prairies at that season. There are, at present, in this place thirty head of cattle, forty horses, besides colts, and a goodly number of hogs. A garden on a small scale is attached to the 'old fort' as it is called, which supplies the table with peas, turnips, radishes, lettuce, beets, onions, etc. The large garden, half a mile off and below the fort, contains one and a half acres, and produces most plentiful and excellent crops of potatoes, corn, and every kind of vegetable, but has not been worked this year. In the summer of 1838, Mr. Culbertson had from it 520 bushels of potatoes, and as many other vegetables as he required for the use of the fort. Rainy seasons prove most favorable in this climate for vegetation, but they rarely occur. It is indeed pleasant to know that the enterprising men who commenced, and have continued with untiring perseverance, the enlargement of the Indian trade, and labored hard for the subordination, if not civilization, of the Indians, should occasionally sit down under their own vine and fig-tree, and enjoy at least the semblance of living like their more quiet, though not more useful brothers in the United States."

FORT McKENZIE

By ALEXANDER CULBERTSON, Esq. August 7, 1843

"The American Fur Company, whose untiring perseverance and enterprise have excited the wonder and admiration of many people, both in this and other countries, and who have already acquired a well-earned fame for their labors among the aborigines of this wilderness, and who are now an example of the energy of the American people, had, until the year 1832, no stations among the Blackfeet, Piegans, Blood Indians, or Gros Ventres de Prairie, these tribes being so hostile and bloodthirsty as to make the trading, or the erecting of a fort among them too dangerous to be attempted. At last, however, these dangers and difficulties were undertaken, commenced, and surmounted, and Fort McKenzie was erected in the very heart of these tribes. The fort was begun in 1832, under the superintendence of David D. Mitchell, then one of the clerks of the Company, now U.S. Superintendent of Indian Affairs. The fort was completed by me, Alexander Culbertson, then a clerk of the Company, now one of the partners. During the first year, owing to the exigencies of the occasion, a temporary, though substantial fort was erected, which, however, served to protect the daring few who undertook and accomplished the perilous task. To those who are quietly sitting by their firesides in the heart of civilized life, enjoying all its luxuries, pleasures, and comforts, and who are far removed from the prairie land and the red men, the situation of this party can hardly be pictured. They were surrounded by dangers of all kinds, but more especially from the tribes of Indians before mentioned. Two thousand lodges of Blackfeet were near them, waiting only until an opportunity should offer to satisfy their thirst for blood, to fall upon and kill them. Apart from this tribe the others were loitering around them for the same purpose; add to this, privations, fatigues, hardships, and personal ills which have to be encountered in a country like this. All, however, was met courageously; undaunted by appearances, unintimidated by threats, not unmanned by hardships and fatigues, they pushed ahead, completed the fort, and at last accomplished their object of establishing a trade with the tribes above mentioned; and they now enjoy a comparative peace, and are living upon fairly friendly terms with their late most violent enemies. During the following year another fort was commenced and completed, and retained its former name of Fort McKenzie, being named after Kenneth McKenzie, Esq., one of the partners of the Company. The fort is situated on the north side of the Missouri, about six miles above the mouth of the Maria, and about forty miles below the 'Great Falls' of the Missouri, on a beautiful prairie, about fifteen feet above the highest-water mark, and about 225 feet from the river. The prairie rises gradually from the water's edge to the hills in the rear, about half a mile from the river. It is about a mile long, terminating at a 'côte qui trompe de l'eau' on the lower end, and in a point at the upper end, formerly heavily covered with timber, but now entirely destitute. Opposite the fort is a high perpendicular bank of black clay, rising from the river to the height of 150 feet; from this all that takes place within the walls of the fort can be seen, which would seem to have rendered the placing of the fort in such a position extremely injudicious. But not through carelessness was this done; it is simply the sole place in this section of country, near the river, where a fort can be built, as the land is so rough and uneven as to render the erection of a fort at any other spot impossible. From this bank little or no danger is apprehended, as the river is about one hundred yards wide, and a ball fired by the Indians from this height, and at this distance, with the weapons that they have, would be incapable of doing any execution. Timber in this country has become very scarce; points which a few years ago were covered with heavy forests of the different kinds of wood of the district have by some law of nature become entirely destitute, especially a point below the island called by the voyageurs the 'Grand Isle' (which is situated at the commencement of the Mauvaises Terres), where it has dwindled to a few scattering cottonwoods and box elders; and this is the only wood now to be found in this section of the country between 'Grand Isle' and the 'Great Falls' of the Missouri. It is with the greatest difficulty and economy that from the little wood to be found the fort is supplied with the necessary fuel; this is dealt out as a ration, allowing a certain quantity to each room, sufficient, however, to do the cooking, and warm the inmates. At all times, except when serving the ration, the wood is kept closely locked. This is one of the privations of the country, and, indeed the country affords very little which adds to the comfort of the trader who makes these wilds his home, except such as can be procured from the wild animals. Three sides of the fort are built of pickets of hewn cottonwood, squared, placed close together, eighteen feet long, planted three feet deep in the earth, leaving fifteen feet above ground. The pickets are connected at the top by a strong piece pinned to them. The fourth side, facing the northeast, is built of pickets framed in wooden sills lying in the ground, similar to those at Fort Union. The fort is two hundred feet square, ranging north and south and facing south. On the northeast and southwest corners are bastions built of cottonwood timber, ball proof, rising about eight feet above the pickets, twenty feet square and divided into two stories. In each bastion is a cannon, loaded muskets, cartridges, balls, and every requisite necessary to prevent and repel any attack that may take place, and which is hourly expected, from the surrounding tribes of Indians. In each bastion are port and loop holes for the cannon and muskets, and these command the four sides of pickets, and an extensive range over the prairie. Along the rear line of pickets, and about twenty-five feet from them, is the principal range of buildings in the fort. These are occupied by the Bourgeois, clerks, and interpreters. It is divided into three apartments; the principal room, with every comfort that this dreary place affords, belongs to the Bourgeois and is twenty feet square; and here, to partially remove the ennui of dull times, is a library of such books as time and opportunity have permitted the dwellers in the fort to collect; this is at the command of those who choose to 'drive dull care away,' and contains a little of everything, science, history, poetry, and fiction. Adjoining this room is a hall or passage eight feet wide, running from front to rear of the building, with a door opening into the Bourgeois's room, another opening into the clerk's room; the clerk's room is also used as a mess-room and is the same size as that of the Bourgeois. Adjoining the clerk's room is the one belonging to the interpreters; it is twenty-four by twenty feet and is also used as a council room, and reception room for the chiefs that may arrive at the fort. The chiefs only are admitted within the walls; not that any danger is apprehended now from them, but to prevent any trouble that might possibly occur were numbers permitted to enter. The house is of cottonwood logs, with a plank roof covered with earth, chimneys of mud, two windows and doors in the Bourgeois's room, one each in the other rooms. The interior is ceiled and walled with plank. In the Bourgeois's room are two doors made of pine plank which was sawed in the Rocky Mountains. The house is 75 by 20 ft. Most of the buildings in the fort are made in a similar manner. Above the three rooms described is a garret extending the whole length of the building. About three feet back of this edifice is the kitchen, a neat building twenty feet square, in which everything belonging to this most important and useful apartment is to be found, always in good order, clean and bright, as it is the imperative duty of the cook, or person in charge, to have all connected with this department in perfect order. From this room all persons are excluded, unless duty or business requires them to be there. Adjoining this, on the same line north, is a house of the same dimensions as the kitchen, which is used for salting and preserving tongues, one of the delicacies of the civilized world; when not thus used it answers the purpose of a wash-house. In these buildings are bedrooms occupied by the persons having charge of these departments. Extending along the west line of pickets, and about three feet from them, leaving a space between the range and the Bourgeois's house is a line of buildings divided in four apartments; one used for a blacksmith's and tinner's shop, another for a carpenter's shop, one for the tailor, and the other for the men. In the square formed by the pickets and ends of the Bourgeois's and men's houses, is a yard for sawing timber, a quantity of which is necessarily required about the fort. A house running from the south bastion to the passage, twenty-four feet square, is used as a reception room for war and trading parties; a door leads from this to the passage formed by the double gates, thereby cutting off all communication with the interior of the fort. In this room all parties are received by the interpreter, who is always ready to smoke and talk with the Indians. Next to this room is a passage formed by the double gates, and two parallel lines of pickets extending inwards, making the passage about thirty feet long and twelve wide; at the ends are two large gates, about twelve feet wide and the same height. Opposite the room last described is a similar one 20 by 15 ft., in which the Indians bring their robes to trade. Next this is a trade store, where are kept goods, trinkets, etc., to be traded with the Indians. The trading is done through a window or wicket two feet square, and a foot thick, strongly hinged to the picket; this opening is at the command of the trader, who can open or close it, as the Indians may appear friendly or otherwise, thereby completely cutting off, if necessary, all communication between the Indians and the trade store; and it is through this opening only that trade is carried on. Next this is a room twenty-four feet square, where all goods obtained from the Indians are placed as soon as the trade is finished; and adjoining the trade shop is a room, between it and the pickets, about ten feet square, with a window and door opening into the trade shop, with a chimney, fireplace, and stove used only for warming the trader when off duty, or when awaiting the arrival of Indians. Along the east line of pickets, and about forty feet from them, is another range of buildings, about a hundred feet long and twenty deep, divided into five apartments. The first three are for storing packs of robes, furs, peltries, etc., and will hold eighteen hundred packs of robes; the fourth room is a retail store, 15 by 20 ft., in which is always a good assortment of stores, the prices fixed by a regular tariff, so no cheating is possible. All whites buy and sell here. Fifth, is the wholesale warehouse, in which are boxes, bales, and all goods kept in quantity till required. Within a few feet of this, and northeast, is the meat house, twenty-four feet square, in which all meat traded from the Indians is kept till needed for use. Near the meat house south is a powder magazine, a hole dug in the ground ten feet square, walled with timber to the surface, covered with a timber roof four feet above the surface in the centre, and this is covered to the depth of three feet with earth; in the roof is an outer door three feet square, opening upon another of the same size; this is so arranged that in case of fire the whole can be covered in a few minutes, and rendered fire-proof. In the southeast corner is a large barn, 60 by 50 ft., capable of containing sufficient hay for all the cattle and horses during the long, cold, tedious winters of this country. Adjoining is a range of large and warm stables for the horses of the fort, and some extra ones if required, providing them with a good shelter from the piercing cold and severe storms. Extending from the stables is a range of small buildings used for keeping saddlery, harness, boat-rigging, tools, etc., thereby providing 'a place for everything,' and it is required that everything shall be in its place. Over this is a gallery extending along this line of pickets, answering the purposes of a promenade, observatory, guard station, and place of defence. In the southeast corner in front of the barn is a yard 30 by 60 ft., used for receiving carts, wagons, wood, and so forth. At the end of the yard in the rear of the dry-goods warehouse is an ice house, that will contain nearly forty loads of ice; meat placed here will keep several days in the heat of summer, and thus save the hunter from a daily ride over the burning prairies. The stock belonging to the fort consists of thirty to forty horses, ten or twelve cattle, and a number of hogs. Fort McKenzie boasts of one of the most splendid Durham bulls that can be found in the United States or Territories. The area in front of the buildings is about a hundred feet square; from the centre rises a flag-staff fifty feet high; from this wave the glorious folds of the starry banner of our native land, made more beautiful by its situation in the dreary wilderness around it. The wanderer, as he sees the bright folds from afar, hails them with gladness, as it means for him a place of safety. No sight is more welcome to the voyageur, the hunter, or the trapper. That flag cheers all who claim it as theirs, and it protects all, white men or red. Here in the wilderness all fly to it for refuge, and depend on it for security. Upon the arrival or departure of the Bourgeois, men of note, or arrival and departure of the boats, the flag is raised, and salutes fired. Here, where but few are gathered together, undying attachments are formed, a unanimity of feeling exists, to be found perhaps only in similar situations. When the hour of parting comes it is with regret, for amid the common dangers, so well known, none know when the meeting again will be, and when the hour of meeting comes, the joy is honest and unfeigned that the dangers are safely surmounted. Such is Fort McKenzie, such are its inmates. Removed as they are from civilization and its pleasures, home and friends, they find in each other friends and brothers: friends that forsake not in the hour of danger, but cling through all changes; brothers in feeling and action, and 'though there be many, in heart they are one.'"

EPISODES

EPISODES[46]

These Episodes were introduced in the letterpress of the first three volumes of the "Ornithological Biographies," but are not in the octavo edition of the "Birds of America," and I believe no entire reprint of them has been made before. So far as possible they have been arranged chronologically.

• Louisville, in Kentucky. 1808.
• The Ohio. 1810.
• Fishing in the Ohio. 1810.
• A Wild Horse. 1811.
• Breaking up of the Ice. 1811.
• The Prairie. 1812.
• The Regulators.
• The Earthquake. 1812.
• The Hurricane. 1814.
• Colonel Boone. 1815.
• Natchez in 1820.
• The Lost Portfolio. 1820.
• The Original Painter. 1821.
• The Cougar. 1821.
• The Runaway. 1821.
• A Tough Walk for a Youth. 1822.
• Hospitality in the Woods. 1822.
• Niagara. 1824.
• Meadville. 1824.
• The Burning of the Forests. 1824.
• A Long Calm at Sea. 1826.
• Still Becalmed. 1826.
• Great Egg Harbor. 1829.
• The Great Pine Swamp. 1829.
• The Lost One. 1832.
• The Live-Oakers. 1832.
• Spring Garden. 1832.
• Death of a Pirate. 1832.
• Wreckers of Florida. 1832.
• St. John's River, in Florida. 1832.
• The Florida Keys, No. 1. 1832.
• The Florida Keys, No. 2. 1832.
• The Turtlers. 1832.
• The Form of the Waters. 1833.
• Journey in New Brunswick and Maine. 1833.
• A Moose Hunt. 1833.
• Labrador. 1833.
• The Eggers of Labrador. 1833.
• The Squatters of Labrador. 1833.
• Cod-Fishing. 1833.
• A Ball in Newfoundland. 1833.
• The Bay of Fundy. 1833.
• A Flood.
• The Squatters of the Mississippi.
• Improvements in the Navigation of the Mississippi.
• Kentucky Sports.
• The Traveller and the Pole-cat.
• Deer-Hunting.
• The Eccentric Naturalist.
• Scipio and the Bear.
• A Kentucky Barbecue.
• A Raccoon Hunt in Kentucky.
• The Pitting of Wolves.
• The Opossum.
• A Maple-Sugar Camp.
• The White Perch.
• The American Sun-Perch.
• My Style of drawing Birds.

EPISODES

LOUISVILLE IN KENTUCKY

Louisville in Kentucky has always been a favorite place of mine. The beauty of its situation on the banks of La Belle Rivière, just at the commencement of the famed rapids, commonly called the Falls of the Ohio, had attracted my notice, and when I removed to it, immediately after my marriage, I found it more agreeable than ever. The prospect from the town is such that it would please even the eye of a Swiss. It extends along the river for seven or eight miles, and is bounded on the opposite side by a fine range of low mountains, known by the name of the Silver Hills. The rumbling sound of the waters as they tumble over the rock-paved bed of the rapids is at all times soothing to the ear. Fish and game are abundant. But, above all, the generous hospitality of the inhabitants, and the urbanity of their manners, had induced me to fix upon it as a place of residence; and I did so with the more pleasure when I found that my wife was as much gratified as myself by the kind attentions which were shown to us, utter strangers as we were, on our arrival.

No sooner had we landed, and made known our intention of remaining, than we were introduced to the principal inhabitants of the place and its vicinity, although we had not brought a single letter of introduction, and could not but see, from their unremitting kindness, that the Virginian spirit of hospitality displayed itself in all the words and actions of our newly formed friends. I wish here to name those persons who so unexpectedly came forward to render our stay among them agreeable, but feel at a loss with whom to begin, so equally deserving are they of our gratitude. The Croghans, the Clarks (our great traveller included), the Berthouds, the Galts, the Maupins, the Tarascons, the Beals, and the Booths, form but a small portion of the long list which I could give. The matrons acted like mothers to my wife, the daughters proved agreeable associates, and the husbands and sons were friends and companions to me. If I absented myself on business, or otherwise, for any length of time, my wife was removed to the hospitable abode of some friend in the neighborhood until my return, and then, kind reader, I was several times obliged to spend a week or more with these good people before they could be prevailed upon to let us return to our own residence. We lived for two years at Louisville, where we enjoyed many of the best pleasures which this life can afford; and whenever we have since chanced to pass that way, we have found the kindness of our former friends unimpaired.

During my residence at Louisville, much of my time was employed in my ever favorite pursuits. I drew and noted the habits of everything which I procured, and my collection was daily augmenting, as every individual who carried a gun always sent me such birds or quadrupeds as he thought might prove useful to me. My portfolios already contained upwards of two hundred drawings. Dr. W. C. Galt being a botanist, was often consulted by me, as well as his friend, Dr. Ferguson. Mr. Gilly drew beautifully, and was fond of my pursuits. So was my friend, and now relative, N. Berthoud. As I have already said, our time was spent in the most agreeable manner, through the hospitable friendship of our acquaintance.

One fair morning I was surprised by the sudden entrance into our counting-room of Mr. Alexander Wilson, the celebrated author of the "American Ornithology," of whose existence I had never until that moment been apprised. This happened in March, 1810. How well do I remember him, as he walked up to me! His long, rather hooked nose, the keenness of his eyes, and his prominent cheek bones, stamped his countenance with a peculiar character. His dress, too, was of a kind not usually seen in that part of the country,—a short coat, trousers, and a waistcoat of gray cloth. His stature was not above the middle size. He had two volumes under his arm, and as he approached the table at which I was working, I thought I discovered something like astonishment in his countenance. He, however, immediately proceeded to disclose the object of his visit, which was to procure subscriptions for his work. He opened his books, explained the nature of his occupations, and requested my patronage.

I felt surprised and gratified at the sight of his volumes, turned over a few of the plates, and had already taken a pen to write my name in his favor, when my partner, rather abruptly, said to me in French, "My dear Audubon, what induces you to subscribe to this work? Your drawings are certainly far better, and again, you must know as much of the habits of American birds as this gentlemen." Whether Mr. Wilson understood French or not, or if the suddenness with which I paused disappointed him, I cannot tell; but I clearly perceived he was not pleased. Vanity and the encomiums of my friend prevented me from subscribing. Mr. Wilson asked me if I had many drawings of birds. I rose, took down a large portfolio, laid it on the table, and showed him, as I would show you, kind reader, or any other person fond of such subjects, the whole of the contents, with the same patience with which he had shown me his own engravings.

His surprise appeared great, as he told me he never had the most distant idea that any other individual than himself had been engaged in forming such a collection. He asked me if it was my intention to publish, and when I answered in the negative, his surprise seemed to increase. And, truly, such was not my intention; for until long after, when I meet the Prince of Musignano in Philadelphia, I had not the least idea of presenting the fruits of my labors to the world. Mr. Wilson now examined my drawings with care, asked if I should have any objections to lending him a few during his stay, to which I replied that I had none; he then bade me good-morning, not, however, until I had made an arrangement to explore the woods in the vicinity with him, and had promised to procure for him some birds of which I had drawings in my collection, but which he had never seen.

It happened that he lodged in the same house with us, but his retired habits, I thought, exhibited either a strong feeling of discontent or a decided melancholy. The Scotch airs which he played sweetly on his flute made me melancholy too, and I felt for him. I presented him to my wife and friends, and seeing that he was all enthusiasm, exerted myself as much as was in my power to procure for him the specimens which he wanted. We hunted together, and obtained birds which he had never before seen; but, reader, I did not subscribe to his work, for, even at that time, my collection was greater than his. Thinking that perhaps he might be pleased to publish the results of my researches, I offered them to him, merely on condition that what I had drawn, or might afterwards draw and send to him, should be mentioned in his work as coming from my pencil. I, at the same time, offered to open a correspondence with him, which I thought might prove beneficial to us both. He made no reply to either proposal, and before many days had elapsed, left Louisville, on his way to New Orleans, little knowing how much his talents were appreciated in our little town, at least by myself and my friends.

Some time elapsed, during which I never heard of him, or of his work. At length, having occasion to go to Philadelphia, I, immediately after my arrival there, inquired for him, and paid him a visit. He was then drawing a White-headed Eagle. He received me with civility, and took me to the exhibition rooms of Rembrandt Peale, the artist, who had then portrayed Napoleon crossing the Alps. Mr. Wilson spoke not of birds nor drawings. Feeling, as I was forced to do, that my company was not agreeable, I parted from him; and after that I never saw him again. But judge of my astonishment sometime after, when, on reading the thirty-ninth page of the ninth volume of "American Ornithology," I found in it the following paragraph:—

"March 23, 1810. I bade adieu to Louisville, to which place I had four letters of recommendation, and was taught to expect much of everything there; but neither received one act of civility from those to whom I was recommended, one subscriber nor one new bird; though I delivered my letters, ransacked the woods repeatedly, and visited all the characters likely to subscribe. Science or literature has not one friend in this place."

THE OHIO

When my wife, my eldest son (then an infant), and myself were returning from Pennsylvania to Kentucky, we found it expedient, the waters being unusually low, to provide ourselves with a skiff, to enable us to proceed to our abode at Henderson. I purchased a large, commodious, and light boat of that denomination. We procured a mattress, and our friends furnished us with ready prepared viands. We had two stout negro rowers, and in this trim we left the village of Shippingport, in expectation of reaching the place of our destination in a very few days.

It was in the month of October. The autumnal tints already decorated the shores of that queen of rivers, the Ohio. Every tree was hung with long and flowing festoons of different species of vines, many loaded with clustered fruits of varied brilliancy, their rich bronzed carmine mingling beautifully with the yellow foliage, which now predominated over the yet green leaves, reflecting more lively tints from the clear stream than ever landscape painter portrayed, or poet imagined.

The days were yet warm. The sun had assumed the rich and glowing hue which at that season produces the singular phenomenon called there the "Indian Summer." The moon had rather passed the meridian of her grandeur. We glided down the river, meeting no other ripple of the water than that formed by the propulsion of our boat. Leisurely we moved along, gazing all day on the grandeur and beauty of the wild scenery around us.

Now and then a large catfish rose to the surface of the water, in pursuit of a shoal of fry, which, starting simultaneously from the liquid element like so many silver arrows, produced a shower of light, while the pursuer with open jaws seized the stragglers, and, with a splash of his tail, disappeared from our view. Other fishes we heard, uttering beneath our bark a rumbling noise, the strange sound of which we discovered to proceed from the white perch, for on casting our net from the bow, we caught several of that species, when the noise ceased for a time.

Nature, in her varied arrangements, seems to have felt a partiality towards this portion of our country. As the traveller ascends or descends the Ohio, he cannot help remarking that alternately, nearly the whole length of the river, the margin, on one side, is bounded by lofty hills and a rolling surface, while on the other, extensive plains of the richest alluvial land are seen as far as the eye can command the view. Islands of varied size and form rise here and there from the bosom of the water, and the winding course of the stream frequently brings you to places where the idea of being on a river of great length changes to that of floating on a lake of moderate extent. Some of these islands are of considerable size and value; while others, small and insignificant, seem as if intended for contrast, and as serving to enhance the general interest of the scenery. These little islands are frequently overflowed during great freshets or floods, and receive at their heads prodigious heaps of drifted timber. We foresaw with great concern the alterations that cultivation would soon produce along those delightful banks.

As night came, sinking in darkness the broader portions of the river, our minds became affected by strong emotions, and wandered far beyond the present moments. The tinkling of bells told us that the cattle which bore them were gently roving from valley to valley in search of food, or returning to their distant homes. The hooting of the Great Owl, or the muffled noise of its wings, as it sailed smoothly over the stream, were matters of interest to us; so was the sound of the boatman's horn, as it came winding more and more softly from afar. When daylight returned, many songsters burst forth with echoing notes, more and more mellow to the listening ear. Here and there the lonely cabin of a squatter struck the eye, giving note of commencing civilization. The crossing of the stream by a Deer foretold how soon the hills would be covered with snow.

Many sluggish flatboats we overtook and passed; some laden with produce from the different head-waters of the small rivers that pour their tributary streams into the Ohio; others, of less dimensions, crowded with emigrants from distant parts, in search of a new home. Purer pleasures I never felt; nor have you, reader, I ween, unless indeed you have felt the like, and in such company.

The margins of the shores and of the river were, at this season, amply supplied with game. A Wild Turkey, a Grouse, or a Blue-winged Teal, could be procured in a few moments; and we fared well, for, whenever we pleased we landed, struck up a fire, and provided as we were with the necessary utensils, procured a good repast.

Several of these happy days passed, and we neared our home, when, one evening, not far from Pigeon Creek (a small stream which runs into the Ohio from the State of Indiana), a loud and strange noise was heard, so like the yells of Indian warfare, that we pulled at our oars, and made for the opposite side as fast and as quietly a possible. The sounds increased, we imagined we heard cries of "murder;" and as we knew that some depredations had lately been committed in the country by dissatisfied parties of aborigines, we felt for a while extremely uncomfortable. Ere long, however, our minds became more calmed, and we plainly discovered that the singular uproar was produced by an enthusiastic set of Methodists, who had wandered thus far out of the common way for the purpose of holding one of their annual camp-meetings, under the shade of a beech forest. Without meeting with any other interruption, we reached Henderson, distant from Shippingport, by water, about two hundred miles.

When I think of these times,[47] and call back to my mind the grandeur and beauty of those almost uninhabited shores; when I picture to myself the dense and lofty summits of the forests, that everywhere spread along the hills and overhung the margins of the stream, unmolested by the axe of the settler; when I know how dearly purchased the safe navigation of that river has been, by the blood of many worthy Virginians; when I see that no longer any aborigines are to be found there, and that the vast herds of Elk, Deer, and Buffaloes which once pastured on these hills, and in these valleys, making for themselves great roads to the several salt-springs, have ceased to exist; when I reflect that all this grand portion of our Union, instead of being in a state of nature, is now more or less covered with villages, farms, and towns, where the din of hammers and machinery is constantly heard; that the woods are fast disappearing under the axe by day, and the fire by night; that hundreds of steamboats are gliding to and fro, over the whole length of the majestic river, forcing commerce to take root and to prosper at every spot; when I see the surplus population of Europe coming to assist in the destruction of the forest, and transplanting civilization into its darkest recesses; when I remember that these extraordinary changes have all taken place in the short period of twenty years, I pause, wonder, and although I know all to be fact, can scarcely believe its reality.

Whether these changes are for the better or for the worse, I shall not pretend to say; but in whatever way my conclusions may incline, I feel with regret that there are on record no satisfactory accounts of the state of that portion of the country, from the time when our people first settled in it. This has not been because no one in America is able to accomplish such an undertaking. Our Irvings and our Coopers have proved themselves fully competent for the task. It has more probably been because the changes have succeeded each other with such rapidity as almost to rival the movements of their pens. However, it is not too late yet; and I sincerely hope that either or both of them will ere long furnish the generations to come with those delightful descriptions which they are so well qualified to give, of the original state of a country that has been so rapidly forced to change her form and attire under the influence of increasing population. Yes, I hope to read, ere I close my earthly career, accounts from those delightful writers of the progress of civilization in our Western Country. They will speak of the Clarks, the Croghans, the Boones, and many other men of great and daring enterprise. They will analyze, as it were, into each component part, the country as it once existed, and will render the picture, as it ought to be, immortal.

FISHING IN THE OHIO

It is with mingled feelings of pleasure and regret that I recall to my mind the many pleasant days I have spent on the shores of the Ohio. The visions of former years crowd on my view, as I picture to myself the fertile soil and genial atmosphere of our great western garden, Kentucky, and view the placid waters of the fair stream that flows along its western boundary. Methinks I am now on the banks of the noble river. Twenty years of my life have returned to me; my sinews are strong, and the "bowspring of my spirit is not slack;" bright visions of the future float before me, as I sit on a grassy bank, gazing on the glittering waters. Around me are dense forests of lofty trees and thickly tangled undergrowth, amid which are heard the songs of feathered choristers, and from whose boughs hang clusters of glowing fruits and beautiful flowers. Reader, I am very happy. But now the dream has vanished, and here I am in the British Athens, penning an episode for my Ornithological Biography, and having before me sundry well-thumbed and weather-beaten folios, from which I expect to be able to extract some interesting particulars respecting the methods employed in those days in catching catfish.

But before entering on my subject I will present you with a brief description of the place of my residence on the banks of the Ohio. When I first landed at Henderson in Kentucky, my family, like the village, was quite small. The latter consisted of six or eight houses, the former of my wife, myself, and a young child. Few as the houses were, we fortunately found one empty. It was a log cabin, not a log house; but as better could not be had, we were pleased. Well, then, we were located. The country around was thinly peopled, and all purchasable provisions rather scarce; but our neighbors were friendly, and we had brought with us flour and bacon-hams. Our pleasures were those of young people not long married, and full of life and merriment; a single smile from our infant was, I assure you, more valued by us than all the treasure of a modern Crœsus would have been. The woods were amply stocked with game, the river with fish; and now and then the hoarded sweets of the industrious bees were brought from some hollow tree to our little table. Our child's cradle was our richest piece of furniture, our guns and fishing-lines our most serviceable implements, for although we began to cultivate a garden, the rankness of the soil kept the seeds we planted far beneath the tall weeds that sprung up the first year. I had then a partner, a "man of business," and there was also with me a Kentucky youth, who much preferred the sports of the forest and river to either day-book or ledger. He was naturally, as I may say, a good woodsman, hunter, and angler, and, like me, thought chiefly of procuring supplies of fish and fowl. To the task accordingly we directed all our energies.

Quantity as well as quality was an object with us, and although we well knew that three species of catfish existed in the Ohio, and that all were sufficiently good, we were not sure as to the best method of securing them. We determined, however, to work on a large scale, and immediately commenced making a famous "trot-line." Now, reader, as you may probably know nothing about this engine, I shall describe it to you.

A trot-line is one of considerable length and thickness, both qualities, however, varying according to the extent of water, and the size of the fish you expect to catch. As the Ohio, at Henderson, is rather more than half a mile in breadth, and as catfishes weigh from one to an hundred pounds, we manufactured a line which measured about two hundred yards in length, as thick as the little finger of some fair one yet in her teens, and as white as the damsel's finger well could be, for it was wholly of Kentucky cotton, just, let me tell you, because that substance stands the water better than either hemp or flax. The main line finished, we made a hundred smaller ones, about five feet in length, to each of which we fastened a capital hook of Kirby and Co.'s manufacture. Now for the bait!

It was the month of May. Nature had brought abroad myriads of living beings; they covered the earth, glided through the water, and swarmed in the air. The catfish is a voracious creature, not at all nice in feeding, but one who, like the Vulture, contents himself with carrion when nothing better can be had. A few experiments proved to us that, of the dainties with which we tried to allure them to our hooks, they gave a decided preference, at that season, to live toads. These animals were very abundant about Henderson. They ramble or feed, whether by instinct or reason, during early or late twilight more than at any other time, especially after a shower, and are unable to bear the heat of the sun's rays for several hours before and after noon. We have a good number of these crawling things in America, particularly in the western and southern parts of the Union, and are very well supplied with frogs, snakes, lizards, and even crocodiles, which we call alligators; but there is enough of food for them all, and we generally suffer them to creep about, to leap or to flounder as they please, or in accordance with the habits which have been given them by the great Conductor of all.

During the month of May, and indeed until autumn, we found an abundant supply of toads. Many "fine ladies," no doubt, would have swooned, or at least screamed and gone into hysterics, had they seen one of our baskets filled with these animals, all alive and plump. Fortunately we had no tragedy queen or sentimental spinster at Henderson. Our Kentucky ladies mind their own affairs, and seldom meddle with those of others farther than to do all they can for their comfort. The toads, collected one by one, and brought home in baskets, were deposited in a barrel for use. And now that night is over, and as it is the first trial we are going to give our trot-line, just watch our movements from that high bank beside the stream. There sit down under the large cotton-wood tree. You are in no danger of catching cold at this season.

My assistant follows me with a gaff hook, while I carry the paddle of our canoe; a boy bears on his back a hundred toads as good as ever hopped. Our line—oh, I forgot to inform you that we had set it last night, but without the small ones you now see on my arm. Fastening one end to yon sycamore, we paddled our canoe, with the rest nicely coiled in the stern, and soon reached its extremity, when I threw over the side the heavy stone fastened to it as a sinker. All this was done that it might be thoroughly soaked, and without kinks or snarls in the morning. Now, you observe, we launch our light bark, the toads in the basket are placed next to my feet in the bow; I have the small lines across my knees already looped at the end. Nat, with the paddle, and assisted by the current, keeps the stern of our boat directly down stream; and David fixes by the skin of the back and hind parts, the living bait to the hook. I hold the main line all the while, and now, having fixed one linelet to it, over goes the latter. Can you see the poor toad kicking and flouncing in the water? "No?"—well, I do. You observe at length that all the lines, one after another, have been fixed, baited, and dropped. We now return swiftly to the shore.

"What a delightful thing is fishing!" have I more than once heard some knowing angler exclaim, who, with "the patience of Job," stands or slowly moves along some rivulet twenty feet wide, and three or four feet deep, with a sham fly to allure a trout, which, when at length caught, weighs half a pound. Reader, I never had such patience. Although I have waited ten years, and yet see only three-fourths of the "Birds of America" engraved, although some of the drawings of that work were patiently made so long ago as 1805, and although I have to wait with patience two years more before I see the end of it, I never could hold a line or a rod for many minutes, unless I had—not a "nibble" but a hearty bite, and could throw the fish at once over my head on the ground. No, no—if I fish for trout, I must soon give up, or catch as I have done in Pennsylvania's Lehigh, or the streams of Maine, fifty or more in a couple of hours. But the trot-line is in the river, and there it may patiently wait, until I visit it towards night. Now I take up my gun and note-book, and accompanied by my dog, intend to ramble through the woods until breakfast. Who knows but I may shoot a turkey or a deer? It is barely four o'clock, and see what delightful mornings we have at this season in Kentucky!

Evening has returned. The heavens have already opened their twinkling eyes, although the orb of day has yet scarcely withdrawn itself from our view. How calm is the air! The nocturnal insects and quadrupeds are abroad; the Bear is moving through the dark cane-brake, the land Crows are flying towards their roosts, their aquatic brethren towards the interior of the forests, the Squirrel is barking his adieu, and the Barred Owl glides silently and swiftly from his retreat to seize upon the gay and noisy animal. The boat is pushed off from the shore; the main line is in my hands; now it shakes, surely some fish have been hooked. Hand over hand I proceed to the first hook. Nothing there! but now I feel several jerks, stronger and more frequent than before. Several hooks I pass; but see, what a fine catfish is twisting round and round the little line to which he is fast! Nat, look to your gaff—hook him close to the tail. Keep it up, my dear fellow!—there now, we have him. More are on, and we proceed. When we have reached the end many goodly fishes are lying in the bottom of our skiff. New bait has been put on, and, as we return, I congratulate myself and my companions on the success of our efforts; for there lies fish enough for ourselves and our neighbors.

A trot-line at this period was perfectly safe at Henderson, should I have allowed it to remain for weeks at a time. The navigation was mostly performed by flat-bottomed boats, which during calm nights floated in the middle current of the river, so that the people on board could not observe the fish that had been hooked. Not a single steamer had as yet ever gone down the Ohio; now and then, it is true, a barge or a keel-boat was propelled by poles and oars, but the nature of the river is such at that place, that these boats when ascending were obliged to keep near the Indiana shore, until above the landing of the village (below which I always fixed my lines), when they pulled across the stream.

Several species or varieties of catfish are found in the Ohio, namely, the Blue, the White, and the Mud Cats, which differ considerably in their form and color, as well as in their habits. The Mud Cat is the best, although it seldom attains so great a size as the rest. The Blue Cat is the coarsest, but when not exceeding from four to six pounds it affords tolerable eating. The White Cat is preferable to the last, but not so common; and the Yellow Mud Cat is the best and rarest. Of the Blue kind some have been caught that weighed a hundred pounds. Such fish, however, are looked upon as monsters.

The form in all the varieties inclines to the conical, the head being disproportionately large, while the body tapers away to the root of the tail. The eyes, which are small, are placed far apart, and situated as it were on the top of the forehead, but laterally. Their mouth is wide and armed with numerous small and very sharp teeth, while it is defended by single-sided spines, which, when the fish is in the agonies of death, stand out at right angles, and are so firmly fixed as sometimes to break before you can loosen them. The catfish has also feelers of proportionate length, apparently intended to guide its motions over the bottom, whilst its eyes are watching the objects passing above.

Trot-lines cannot be used with much success unless during the middle stages of the water. When very low, it is too clear, and the fish, although extremely voracious, will rarely risk its life for a toad. When the waters are rising rapidly, your trot-lines are likely to be carried away by one of the numerous trees that float in the stream. A "happy medium" is therefore best.

When the waters are rising fast and have become muddy, a single line is used for catching catfish. It is fastened to the elastic branch of some willow several feet above the water, and must be twenty or thirty feet in length. The entrails of a Wild Turkey, or a piece of fresh venison furnish good bait; and if, when you visit your line the next morning after you have set it, the water has not risen too much, the swinging of the willow indicates that a fish has been hooked, and you have only to haul the prize ashore.

One evening I saw that the river was rising at a great rate, although it was still within its banks. I knew that the white perch were running, that is, ascending the river from the sea, and, anxious to have a tasting of that fine fish, I baited a line with a crayfish, and fastened it to the bough of a tree. Next morning as I pulled in the line, it felt as if fast at the bottom, yet on drawing it slowly I found that it came. Presently I felt a strong pull, the line slipped through my fingers, and next instant a large catfish leaped out of the water. I played it for a while until it became exhausted, when I drew it ashore. It had swallowed the hook, and I cut off the line close to its head. Then passing a stick through one of the gills, I and a servant tugged the fish home. On cutting it open, we, to our surprise, found in its stomach a fine white perch, dead, but not in the least injured. The perch had been lightly hooked, and the catfish, after swallowing it, had been hooked in the stomach, so that, although the instrument was small, the torture caused by it no doubt tended to disable the catfish. The perch we ate, and the cat, which was fine, we divided into four parts, and distributed among our neighbors. My most worthy friend and relative, Nicholas Berthoud, Esq., who formerly resided at Shippingport in Kentucky, but now in New York, a better fisher than whom I never knew, once placed a trot-line in the basin below "Tarascon's Mills," at the foot of the Rapids of the Ohio. I cannot recollect the bait which was used; but on taking up the line we obtained a remarkably fine catfish, in which was found the greater part of a sucking pig.

I may here add that I have introduced a figure of the catfish in Plate XXXI. of the first volume of my illustrations, in which I have represented the White-headed Eagle.

A WILD HORSE

While residing at Henderson in Kentucky, I became acquainted with a gentleman who had just returned from the country in the neighborhood of the head-waters of the Arkansas River, where he had purchased a newly caught "Wild Horse," a descendant of some of the horses originally brought from Spain, and set at liberty in the vast prairies of the Mexican lands. The animal was by no means handsome; he had a large head, with a considerable prominence in its frontal region, his thick and unkempt mane hung along his neck to the breast, and his tail, too scanty to be called flowing, almost reached the ground. But his chest was broad, his legs clean and sinewy, and his eyes and nostrils indicated spirit, vigor, and endurance. He had never been shod, and although he had been ridden hard, and had performed a long journey, his black hoofs had suffered no damage. His color inclined to bay, the legs of a deeper tint, and gradually darkening below until they became nearly black. I inquired what might be the value of such an animal among the Osage Indians, and was answered that, the horse being only four years old, he had given for him, with the tree and the buffalo-tug fastened to his head, articles equivalent to about thirty-five dollars. The gentleman added that he had never mounted a better horse, and had very little doubt that, if well fed, he could carry a man of ordinary weight from thirty-five to forty miles a day for a month, as he had travelled at that rate upon him, without giving him any other food than the grass of the prairies, or the canes of the bottom lands, until he had crossed the Mississippi at Natchez, when he fed him with corn. Having no farther use for him, now that he had ended his journey, he said he was anxious to sell him, and thought he might prove a good hunting-horse for me, as his gaits were easy, and he stood fire as well as any charger he had seen. Having some need of a horse possessed of qualities similar to those represented as belonging to the one in question, I asked if I might be allowed to try him. "Try him, sir, and welcome; nay, if you will agree to feed him and take care of him, you may keep him for a month if you choose." So I had the horse taken to the stable and fed.

About two hours afterwards, I took my gun, mounted the prairie nag, and went to the woods. I was not long in finding him very sensible to the spur, and as I observed that he moved with great ease, both to himself and his rider, I thought of leaping over a log several feet in diameter, to judge how far he might prove serviceable in deer-driving or bear-hunting. So I gave him the reins, and pressed my legs to his belly without using the spur, on which, as if aware that I wished to try his mettle, he bounded off, and cleared the log as lightly as an elk. I turned him, and made him leap the same log several times, which he did with equal ease, so that I was satisfied of his ability to clear any impediment in the woods. I next determined to try his strength, for which purpose I took him to a swamp, which I knew was muddy and tough. He entered it with his nose close to the water, as if to judge of its depth, at which I was well pleased, as he thus evinced due caution. I then rode through the swamp in different directions, and found him prompt, decided, and unflinching. Can he swim well? thought I,—for there are horses, which, although excellent, cannot swim at all, but will now and then lie on their side, as if contented to float with the current, when the rider must either swim and drag them to the shore, or abandon them. To the Ohio then I went, and rode into the water. He made off obliquely against the current, his head well raised above the surface, his nostrils expanded, his breathing free, and without any of the grunting noise emitted by many horses on such occasions. I turned him down the stream, then directly against it, and finding him quite to my mind, I returned to the shore, on reaching which he stopped of his own accord, spread his legs, and almost shook me off my seat. After this, I put him to a gallop, and returning home through the woods, shot from the saddle a Turkey-cock, which he afterwards approached as if he had been trained to the sport, and enabled me to take it up without dismounting.

As soon as I reached the house of Dr. Rankin, where I then resided, I sent word to the owner of the horse that I should be glad to see him. When he came, I asked him what price he would take; he said, fifty dollars in silver was the lowest. So I paid the money, took a bill of sale, and became master of the horse. The doctor, who was an excellent judge, said smiling to me, "Mr. Audubon, when you are tired of him, I will refund you the fifty dollars, for depend upon it he is a capital horse." The mane was trimmed, but the tail left untouched; the doctor had him shod "all round," and for several weeks he was ridden by my wife, who was highly pleased with him.

Business requiring that I should go to Philadelphia, Barro (he was so named after his former owner) was put up for ten days, and well tended. The time of my departure having arrived, I mounted him, and set off at the rate of four miles an hour—but here I must give you the line of my journey, that you may, if you please, follow my course on some such map as that of Tanner's. From Henderson through Russellville, Nashville, and Knoxville, Abingdon in Virginia, the Natural Bridge, Harrisonburg, Winchester, and Harper's Ferry, Frederick, and Lancaster, to Philadelphia. There I remained four days, after which I returned by way of Pittsburgh, Wheeling, Zanesville, Chillicothe, Lexington, and Louisville, to Henderson. But the nature of my business was such as to make me deviate considerably from the main roads, and I computed the whole distance at nearly two thousand miles, the post roads being rather more than sixteen hundred. I travelled not less than forty miles a day, and it was allowed by the doctor that my horse was in as good condition on my return as when I set out. Such a journey on a single horse may seem somewhat marvellous in the eyes of a European; but in these days almost every merchant had to perform the like, some from all parts of the western country, even from St. Louis on the Missouri, although the travellers not unfrequently, on their return, sold their horses at Baltimore, Philadelphia, or Pittsburg, at which latter place they took boat. My wife rode on a single horse from Henderson to Philadelphia, travelling at the same rate. The country was then comparatively new; few coaches travelled, and in fact the roads were scarcely fit for carriages. About twenty days were considered necessary for performing a journey on horseback from Louisville to Philadelphia, whereas now the same distance may be travelled in six or seven days,[48] or even sometimes less, this depending on the height of the water in the Ohio.