September 2, 2025 • 28 mins
Dive into the enchanting world of Washington Irving, the master storyteller behind timeless classics like The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle. This captivating collection features a remarkable array of tales that span the eerie and supernatural folklore of New England to the exotic legends and travel anecdotes inspired by Irvings journeys across Europe. Join narrator Ben Tucker as he brings these diverse stories to life, showcasing the rich tapestry of Irvings literary genius.
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Section eighteen of the Chronicles of Wolfert's Roost and Other Papers.
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please
visit LibriVox dot org. Recording by Rita Boutros. Chronicles of
(00:22):
Wolfert's Roost and Other Papers by Washington Irving The Early
Experiences of Ralph ringwood Part two. I soon found out
that one of the most important items in woodcraft in
a new country was the skill to find one's way
in the wilderness. There were no regular roads in the forests,
(00:44):
but they were cut up and perplexed by paths leading
in all directions. Some of these were made by the
cattle of the settlers and were called stock tracks, but
others had been made by the immense droves of buffalo
which roamed about the country from the flood. Until recent times,
(01:05):
these were called buffalo tracks and traversed Kentucky from end
to end like highways. Traces of them may still be
seen in uncultivated parts, or deeply worn in the rocks
where they crossed the mountains. I was a young woodsman
and sorely puzzled to distinguish one kind of track from
(01:26):
the other, or to make out my course through this
tangled labyrinth. While thus perplexed, I heard a distant, roaring
and rushing sound. A gloom stole over the forest. On
looking up, when I could catch a stray glimpse of
the sky, I beheld the clouds rolled up like balls,
(01:47):
the lower part as black as ink. There was now
and then an explosion, like a burst of cannonry afar off,
and the crash of a falling tree. I had heard
of hurricanes in the woods, and surmised that one was
at hand. It soon came, crashing its way the forest,
(02:08):
writhing and twisting and groaning before it. The hurricane did
not extend far on either side, but in a manner,
plowed a furrow through the woodland, snapping off or uprooting
trees that had stood for centuries and filling the air
with whirling branches. I was directly in its course, and
(02:30):
took my stand behind an immense poplar six feet in diameter.
It bore for a time the full fury of the blast,
but at length began to yield. Seeing it falling, I
scrambled nimbly round the trunk like a squirrel. Down it
went bearing down another tree with it. I crept under
(02:52):
the trunk as a shelter and was protected from other
trees which fell around me, but was sore all over
from the twigs and branches driven against me by the blast.
This was the only incident of consequence that occurred on
my way to John Miller's, where I arrived on the
following day and was received by the veteran with the
(03:15):
rough kindness of a backwoodsman. He was a gray haired man,
hardy and weather beaten, with a blue wart like a
great bead over one eye, whence he was nicknamed by
the hunter's blue bead. Miller. He had been in these
parts from the earliest settlements, and had signalized himself in
(03:36):
the hard conflicts with the Indians which gained Kentucky the
appellation of the Bloody Ground. In one of these fights,
he had had an arm broken. In another, he had
narrowly escaped when hotly pursued by jumping from a precipice
thirty feet high into a river. Miller willingly received me
(03:58):
into his house as an inmate, and seemed pleased with
the idea of making a hunter of me. His dwelling
was a small log house with a loft or garret
of boards, so that there was ample room for both
of us. Under his instruction, I soon made a tolerable
proficiency in hunting. My first exploit of any consequence was
(04:22):
killing a bear. I was hunting in company with two
brothers when we came upon the track of Bruin in
a wood where there was an undergrowth of canes and
grape vines. He was scrambling up a tree when I
shot him through the breast. He fell to the ground
and lay motionless. The brothers sent in their dog, who
(04:44):
seized the bear by the throat. Bruin raised one arm
and gave the dog a hug that crushed his ribs.
One yell and all was over. I don't know which
was first dead, the dog or the bear. The two
brother sat down and cried like children over their unfortunate dog.
(05:05):
Yet they were mere rough huntsmen, almost as wild and
untameable as Indians. But they were fine fellows by degrees.
I became known and somewhat of a favorite among the
hunters of the neighborhood, that is to say, men who
lived within a circle of thirty or forty miles and
(05:27):
came occasionally to see John Miller, who was a patriarch
among them. They lived widely apart in log huts and wigwams,
almost with the simplicity of Indians and well Nia's destitute
of the comforts and inventions of civilized life. They seldom
saw each other. Weeks and even months would elapse without
(05:50):
their visiting. When they did meet, it was very much
after the manner of Indians, loitering about all day without
having much to say, but becoming communicative as evening advanced,
and sitting up half the night before the fire, telling
hunting stories and terrible tales of the fights of the
(06:12):
bloody ground. Sometimes several would join in a distant hunting expedition,
or rather campaign. Expeditions of this kind lasted from November
until April, during which we laid up our stock of
summer provisions. We shifted our hunting camps from place to
(06:32):
place according as we found the game. They were generally
pitched near a run of water and close by a
cane brake to screen us from the wind. One side
of our lodge was opened towards the fire. Our horses
were hoppled and turned loose in the cane brakes, with
bells round their necks. One of the parties stayed at
(06:55):
home to watch the camp, prepare the meals, and keep
off the wolves. The others hunted. When a hunter killed
a deer at a distance from the camp, he would
open it and take out the entrails. Then, climbing a sapling,
he would bend it down, tie the deer to the top,
and let it spring up again so as to suspend
(07:17):
the carcass out of reach of the wolves. At night,
he would return to the camp and give an account
of his luck. The next morning, early he would get
a horse out of the cane brake and bring home
his game. That day, he would stay at home to
cut up the carcasse while the others hunted. Our days
(07:38):
were thus spent in silent and lonely occupations. It was
only at night that we would gather together before the
fire and be sociable. I was a novice and used
to listen with open eyes and ears to the strange
and wild stories told by the old hunters, and believed
everything I heard. Some of their stories bordered upon the supernatural.
(08:03):
They believed that their rifles might be spellbound so as
not to be able to kill a buffalo even at
arm's length. This superstition they had derived from the Indians,
who often think the white hunters have laid a spell
upon their rifles. Miller partook of this superstition and used
(08:24):
to tell of his rifles having a spell upon it,
but it often seemed to me to be a shuffling
way of accounting for a bad shot. If a hunter
grossly missed his aim, he would ask who shot last
with his rifle and hint that he must have charmed it.
The sure mode to disenchant the gun was to shoot
(08:47):
a silver bullet out of it. By the opening of spring,
we would generally have quantities of bear's meat and venison, salted,
dried and smoked, and numerous packs of sass. We would
then make the best of our way home from our
distant hunting grounds, transporting our spoils, sometimes in canoes along
(09:10):
the rivers, sometimes on horseback over land, and our return
would often be celebrated by feasting and dancing in true
backwoods style. I have given you some idea of our hunting.
Let me now give you a sketch of our frolicking.
It was on our return from a winter's hunting in
(09:33):
the neighborhood of Green River, when we received notice that
there was to be a grand frolic at Bob Moseley's
to greet the hunters. This Bob Moseley was a prime
fellow throughout the country. He was an indifferent hunter, it
is true, and rather lazy to boot. But then he
(09:53):
could play the fiddle, and that was enough to make him.
Of consequence, there was no other man within a hundred
miles that could play the fiddle, so there was no
having a regular frolic without Bob Moseley. The hunters, therefore
were always ready to give him a share of their
game in exchange for his music, and Bob was always
(10:16):
ready to get up a carousal whenever there was a
party returning from a hunting expedition. The present frolic was
to take place at Bob Moseley's own house, which was
on the Pigeon Roost fork of the Muddy, which is
a branch of Rough Creek, which is a branch of
Green River. Everybody was agog for the revel at Bob Moseley's,
(10:40):
and as all the fashion of the neighborhood was to
be there, I thought I must brush up for the occasion.
My leathern hunting dress, which was the only one I had,
was somewhat the worse for wear, it is true, and
considerably japanned with blood and grease. But I was up
to hunting expedients. Getting into a periog, I paddled off
(11:04):
to a part of the Green River where there was
sand and clay that might serve for soap. Then, taking
off my dress, I scrubbed and scoured it until I
thought it looked very well. I then put it on
the end of a stick and hung it out of
the periog too dry, while I stretched myself very comfortably
(11:26):
on the green bank of the river. Unluckily, a flaw
struck the periog and tipped over the stick. Down went
my dress to the bottom of the river, and I
never saw it more. Here was I left almost in
a state of nature. I managed to make a kind
of Robinson Crusoe garb of undressed skins with the hair on,
(11:49):
which enabled me to get home with decency. But my
dream of gayety and fashion was at an end. For
how could I think of figuring in high life at
the pigeon Roost, equipped like a mere orson old miller
who really began to take some pride in me, was
confounded when he understood that I did not intend to
(12:12):
go to Bob Moseley's. But when I told him my
misfortune and that I had no dress, by the powers,
cried he, but you shall go, and you shall be
the best dressed and the best mounted lad there. He
immediately set to work to cut out and make up
a hunting shirt of dressed deer skin, gayly fringed at
(12:36):
the shoulders, and leggings of the same fringed from hip
to heel. He then made me a rakish raccoon cap
with a flaunting tail to it, mounted me on his
best horse, And I may say without vanity that I
was one of the smartest fellows that figured on that
occasion at the Pigeon Roost, fork of the Muddy. It
(13:00):
was no small occasion either. Let me tell you. Bob
Moseley's house was a tolerably large bark shanty with a
clappered roof, and there were assembled all the young hunters
and pretty girls of the country for many a mile round.
The young men were in their best hunting dresses, but
(13:20):
not one could compare with mine and my raccoon cap
with its flowing tail was the admiration of everybody. The
girls were mostly in doeskin dresses, for there was no
spinning and weaving as yet in the woods, nor any
need of it. I never saw girls that seemed to
(13:41):
me better dressed, and I was somewhat of a judge,
having seen fashions At Richmond. We had a hearty dinner
and a merry one, for there was Jemmy Keel, famous
for raccoon hunting, and Bob Tarlton and Wesley Pigman and
Joe Taylor, and several other prime fellows for a frolic
(14:02):
that made all ring again, and laughed that you might
have heard them a mile. After dinner, we began dancing
and were hard at it, when about three o'clock in
the afternoon, there was a new arrival, the two daughters
of Old Simon Schultz, two young ladies that affected fashion
(14:22):
and late hours. Their arrival had nearly put an end
to all our merriment. I must go a little round
about in my story to explain to you how that happened.
As Old Schultz, the father, was one day looking in
the cane brakes for his cattle. He came upon the
track of horses. He knew they were none of his,
(14:46):
and that none of his neighbors had horses about that place.
They must be stray horses, or must belong to some
traveler who had lost his way. As the track led nowhere,
he accordingly followed it up until he came to an
unlucky pedlar with two or three pack horses, who had
(15:07):
been bewildered among the cattle tracks and had wandered for
two or three days among woods and cane brakes until
he was almost famished. Old Schultz brought him to his house,
fed him on venison, bear's meat and hominy, and at
the end of a week, put him in prime condition.
(15:29):
The pedlar could not sufficiently express his thankfulness, and, when
about to depart, inquired what he had to pay. Old
Schultz stepped back with surprise. Stranger said he you have
been welcome under my roof. I've given you nothing but
wild meat and hominy because I had no better, but
(15:50):
have been glad of your company. You are welcome to
stay as long as you please, but by zounds. If
anyone offers to pay Simon Schultz for food, he affronts
him so, saying he walked out in a huff. The
pedler admired the hospitality of his host, but could not
reconcile it to his conscience to go away without making
(16:13):
some recompense. There were honest Simon's two daughters, two strapping,
red haired girls. He opened his packs and displayed riches
before them of which they had no conception, for in
those days there were no country's stores in those parts,
with their artificial finery and trinketry, and this was the
(16:37):
first peddler that had wandered into that part of the wilderness.
The girls were for a time completely dazzled, and knew
not what to choose. But what caught their eyes most
were two looking glasses about the size of a dollar,
set in gilt tin. They had never seen the like before,
(16:59):
having used no other mirror than a pail of water.
The peddler presented them these jewels without the least hesitation. Nay,
he gallantly hung them round their necks by red ribbons,
almost as fine as the glasses themselves. This done, he
took his departure, leaving them as much astonished as two
(17:21):
princesses in a fairy tale that have received a magic
gift from an enchanter. It was with these looking glasses
hung round their necks as lockets by red ribbons. That
Old Schultz's daughters made their appearance at three o'clock in
the afternoon at the frolic at Bob Moseley's on the
(17:42):
Pigeon Roost fork of the Muddy by the Powers. But
it was an event. Such a thing had never before
been seen in Kentucky. Bob Tarlton, a strapping fellow with
a head like a chestnut bar and a look like
a boar in an apple orchard, stepped up, caught hold
(18:02):
of the looking glass of one of the girls, and,
gazing at it for a moment, cried out, Joe Taylor,
come here, Come here. I'll be darned if Patty Schultz
ain't got a locket that you can see your face in,
as clear as in a spring of water in a twinkling.
All the young hunters gathered round Old Schultz's daughters. I,
(18:25):
who knew what looking glasses were, did not budge. Some
of the girls who sat near me were excessively mortified
at finding themselves thus deserted. I heard Peggy Pew say
to Sally Pigman, Goodness knows it's well Schultz's daughters has
got them things round their necks. For it's the first
(18:47):
time the young men crowded round them. I saw immediately
the danger of the case. We were a small community
and could not afford to be split up by feuds.
So I stepped up to the girls and whispered to them.
Polly said, I those lockets are powerful, fine, and become
(19:07):
you amazingly. But you don't consider that the country is
not advanced enough in these parts for such things. You
and I understand these manners, but these people don't. Fine.
Things like these may do very well in the old settlements,
but they won't answer at the pigeon roost fork of
the muddy. You had better lay them aside for the present,
(19:30):
or we shall have no peace. Polly and her sister
luckily saw their error. They took off the lockets, laid
them aside, and harmony was restored. Otherwise, I verily believe
that there would have been an end of our community. Indeed,
notwithstanding the great sacrifice they made on this occasion, I
(19:52):
do not think Old Schultz's daughters were ever much liked afterwards.
Among the young women. This was the first time that
looking glasses were ever seen in the Green River, part
of Kentucky. I had now lived some time with Old
Miller and had become a tolerably expert hunter. Game, however,
(20:14):
began to grow scarce. The buffalo had gathered together as
if by universal understanding, and had crossed the Mississippi, never
to return. Strangers kept pouring into the country, clearing away
the forests and building in all directions. The hunters began
to grow restive. Jimmy Keel, the same of whom I
(20:38):
have already spoken for his skill in raccoon catching, came
to me one day. I can't stand this any longer,
said he. We're getting too thick here. Simon Schultz crowded
me so that I have no comfort of my life.
Why how you talk, said I. Simon Schultz lives twelve
(20:59):
miles off no matter. His cattle run with mine, and
I've no idea of living where another man's cattle can
run with mine. That's too close neighborhood. I want elbow room.
This country too, is growing too poor to live in.
There's no game. So two or three of us have
(21:20):
made up our minds to follow the buffalo to the Missouri,
and we should like to have you of the party.
Other hunters of my acquaintance talked in the same manner.
This set me thinking. But the more I thought, the
more I was perplexed. I had no one to advise with.
Old Miller and his associates knew of but one mode
(21:42):
of life, and I had no experience in any other.
But I had a wider scope of thought. When out
hunting alone, I used to forget the sport and sit
for hours together on the trunk of a tree, with
rifle in hand, buried in thought and debating with myself.
Shall I go with Jemmy Keel and his company, or
(22:05):
shall I remain here? If I remain here, there will
soon be nothing left to hunt? But am I to
be a hunter all my life? Have not I something
more in me than to be carrying a rifle on
my shoulder day after day and dodging about after bears
and deer and other brute beasts? My vanity told me
(22:28):
I had, and I called to mind my boyish boasts
to my sister that I would never return home until
I returned a member of Congress from Kentucky. But was
this the way to fit myself for such a station?
Various plans passed through my mind, but they were abandoned
(22:48):
almost as soon as formed. At length, I determined on
becoming a lawyer. True it is, I knew almost nothing.
I had left school before I had learnt beyond the
rule of three. Never mind, said I to myself resolutely.
I am a terrible fellow for hanging on to anything
(23:09):
when I've once made up my mind. And if a
man has but ordinary capacity and will set to work
with heart and soul and stick to it, he can
do almost anything. With this maxim, which has been pretty
much my mainstay throughout life. I fortified myself in my
determination to attempt the law. But how was I too
(23:33):
set about it? I must quit this forest life and
go to one or other of the towns where I
might be able to study and to attend the courts.
This too required funds. I examined into the state of
my finances. The purse given me by my father had
remained untouched in the bottom of an old chest up
(23:56):
in the loft. For money was scarcely needed in these parts.
I had bargained away the skins acquired in hunting for
a horse, and various other matters on which, in case
of need I could raise funds. I therefore thought I
could make shift to maintain myself until I was fitted
(24:16):
for the bar. I informed my worthy host and patron,
Old Miller, of my plan. He shook his head at
my turning my back upon the woods when I was
in a fair way of making a first rate hunter,
but he made no effort to dissuade me. I accordingly
set off in September on horseback, intending to visit Lexington, Frankfort,
(24:41):
and other of the principal towns in search of a
favorable place to prosecute my studies. My choice was made
sooner than I expected. I had put up one night
at Bardstown and found on inquiry that I could get
comfortable board and accommodation in a private family for a
dollar and a half a week. I liked the place
(25:05):
and resolved to look no farther. So the next morning
I prepared to turn my face homeward and take my
final leave of forest life. I had taken my breakfast
and was waiting for my horse, when in pacing up
and down the piazza, I saw a young girl seated
near a window, evidently a visitor. She was very pretty,
(25:29):
with auburn hair and blue eyes, and was dressed in white.
I had seen nothing of the kind since I had
left Richmond, and at that time I was too much
of a boy to be much struck by female charms.
She was so delicate and dainty, looking so different from
the hail bosom brown girls of the woods, and then
(25:53):
her white dress. It was perfectly dazzling. Never was poor
youth more taken by supper and suddenly bewitched. My heart
yearned to know her, But how was I to accost her.
I had grown wild in the woods and had none
of the habitudes of polite life. Had she been like
(26:15):
Peggy Pew or Sally Pigman, or any other of my
leathern dressed bells of the pigeon roost, I should have
approached her without dread. Nay, had she been as fair
as Schultz's daughters with their looking glass lockets, I should
not have hesitated. But that white dress and those auburn
(26:36):
ringlets and blue eyes and delicate looks quite daunted while
they fascinated me. I don't know what put it into
my head, but I thought all at once that I
would kiss her. It would take a long acquaintance to
arrive at such a boon that I might seize upon
it by sheer robbery. Nobody knew me here. I would
(27:00):
just step in, snatch a kiss, mount my horse, and
ride off. She would not be the worse for it.
And that kiss, Oh, I should die if I did
not get it. I gave no time for the thought
to cool, but entered the house and stepped lightly into
the room. She was seated with her back to the door,
(27:23):
looking out at the window, and did not hear my approach.
I tapped her chair, and as she turned and looked up,
I snatched as sweet a kiss as ever was stolen,
and vanished in a twinkling. The next moment, I was
on horseback, galloping homeward, my very ears tingling at what
(27:43):
I had done. On my return home, I sold my
horse and turned everything to cash, and found, with the
remains of the paternal purse that I had nearly four
hundred dollars, a little capital which I resolved to manage
with the strictest economy. It was hard parting with old Miller,
(28:06):
who had been like a father to me. It cost
me too, something of a struggle to give up the free,
independent wild wood life I had hitherto led. But I
had marked out my course and have never been one
to flinch or turn back. End of Section eighteen.
Section eighteen of the Chronicles of Wolfert's Roost and Other Papers.
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please
visit LibriVox dot org. Recording by Rita Boutros. Chronicles of
(00:22):
Wolfert's Roost and Other Papers by Washington Irving The Early
Experiences of Ralph ringwood Part two. I soon found out
that one of the most important items in woodcraft in
a new country was the skill to find one's way
in the wilderness. There were no regular roads in the forests,
(00:44):
but they were cut up and perplexed by paths leading
in all directions. Some of these were made by the
cattle of the settlers and were called stock tracks, but
others had been made by the immense droves of buffalo
which roamed about the country from the flood. Until recent times,
(01:05):
these were called buffalo tracks and traversed Kentucky from end
to end like highways. Traces of them may still be
seen in uncultivated parts, or deeply worn in the rocks
where they crossed the mountains. I was a young woodsman
and sorely puzzled to distinguish one kind of track from
(01:26):
the other, or to make out my course through this
tangled labyrinth. While thus perplexed, I heard a distant, roaring
and rushing sound. A gloom stole over the forest. On
looking up, when I could catch a stray glimpse of
the sky, I beheld the clouds rolled up like balls,
(01:47):
the lower part as black as ink. There was now
and then an explosion, like a burst of cannonry afar off,
and the crash of a falling tree. I had heard
of hurricanes in the woods, and surmised that one was
at hand. It soon came, crashing its way the forest,
(02:08):
writhing and twisting and groaning before it. The hurricane did
not extend far on either side, but in a manner,
plowed a furrow through the woodland, snapping off or uprooting
trees that had stood for centuries and filling the air
with whirling branches. I was directly in its course, and
(02:30):
took my stand behind an immense poplar six feet in diameter.
It bore for a time the full fury of the blast,
but at length began to yield. Seeing it falling, I
scrambled nimbly round the trunk like a squirrel. Down it
went bearing down another tree with it. I crept under
(02:52):
the trunk as a shelter and was protected from other
trees which fell around me, but was sore all over
from the twigs and branches driven against me by the blast.
This was the only incident of consequence that occurred on
my way to John Miller's, where I arrived on the
following day and was received by the veteran with the
(03:15):
rough kindness of a backwoodsman. He was a gray haired man,
hardy and weather beaten, with a blue wart like a
great bead over one eye, whence he was nicknamed by
the hunter's blue bead. Miller. He had been in these
parts from the earliest settlements, and had signalized himself in
(03:36):
the hard conflicts with the Indians which gained Kentucky the
appellation of the Bloody Ground. In one of these fights,
he had had an arm broken. In another, he had
narrowly escaped when hotly pursued by jumping from a precipice
thirty feet high into a river. Miller willingly received me
(03:58):
into his house as an inmate, and seemed pleased with
the idea of making a hunter of me. His dwelling
was a small log house with a loft or garret
of boards, so that there was ample room for both
of us. Under his instruction, I soon made a tolerable
proficiency in hunting. My first exploit of any consequence was
(04:22):
killing a bear. I was hunting in company with two
brothers when we came upon the track of Bruin in
a wood where there was an undergrowth of canes and
grape vines. He was scrambling up a tree when I
shot him through the breast. He fell to the ground
and lay motionless. The brothers sent in their dog, who
(04:44):
seized the bear by the throat. Bruin raised one arm
and gave the dog a hug that crushed his ribs.
One yell and all was over. I don't know which
was first dead, the dog or the bear. The two
brother sat down and cried like children over their unfortunate dog.
(05:05):
Yet they were mere rough huntsmen, almost as wild and
untameable as Indians. But they were fine fellows by degrees.
I became known and somewhat of a favorite among the
hunters of the neighborhood, that is to say, men who
lived within a circle of thirty or forty miles and
(05:27):
came occasionally to see John Miller, who was a patriarch
among them. They lived widely apart in log huts and wigwams,
almost with the simplicity of Indians and well Nia's destitute
of the comforts and inventions of civilized life. They seldom
saw each other. Weeks and even months would elapse without
(05:50):
their visiting. When they did meet, it was very much
after the manner of Indians, loitering about all day without
having much to say, but becoming communicative as evening advanced,
and sitting up half the night before the fire, telling
hunting stories and terrible tales of the fights of the
(06:12):
bloody ground. Sometimes several would join in a distant hunting expedition,
or rather campaign. Expeditions of this kind lasted from November
until April, during which we laid up our stock of
summer provisions. We shifted our hunting camps from place to
(06:32):
place according as we found the game. They were generally
pitched near a run of water and close by a
cane brake to screen us from the wind. One side
of our lodge was opened towards the fire. Our horses
were hoppled and turned loose in the cane brakes, with
bells round their necks. One of the parties stayed at
(06:55):
home to watch the camp, prepare the meals, and keep
off the wolves. The others hunted. When a hunter killed
a deer at a distance from the camp, he would
open it and take out the entrails. Then, climbing a sapling,
he would bend it down, tie the deer to the top,
and let it spring up again so as to suspend
(07:17):
the carcass out of reach of the wolves. At night,
he would return to the camp and give an account
of his luck. The next morning, early he would get
a horse out of the cane brake and bring home
his game. That day, he would stay at home to
cut up the carcasse while the others hunted. Our days
(07:38):
were thus spent in silent and lonely occupations. It was
only at night that we would gather together before the
fire and be sociable. I was a novice and used
to listen with open eyes and ears to the strange
and wild stories told by the old hunters, and believed
everything I heard. Some of their stories bordered upon the supernatural.
(08:03):
They believed that their rifles might be spellbound so as
not to be able to kill a buffalo even at
arm's length. This superstition they had derived from the Indians,
who often think the white hunters have laid a spell
upon their rifles. Miller partook of this superstition and used
(08:24):
to tell of his rifles having a spell upon it,
but it often seemed to me to be a shuffling
way of accounting for a bad shot. If a hunter
grossly missed his aim, he would ask who shot last
with his rifle and hint that he must have charmed it.
The sure mode to disenchant the gun was to shoot
(08:47):
a silver bullet out of it. By the opening of spring,
we would generally have quantities of bear's meat and venison, salted,
dried and smoked, and numerous packs of sass. We would
then make the best of our way home from our
distant hunting grounds, transporting our spoils, sometimes in canoes along
(09:10):
the rivers, sometimes on horseback over land, and our return
would often be celebrated by feasting and dancing in true
backwoods style. I have given you some idea of our hunting.
Let me now give you a sketch of our frolicking.
It was on our return from a winter's hunting in
(09:33):
the neighborhood of Green River, when we received notice that
there was to be a grand frolic at Bob Moseley's
to greet the hunters. This Bob Moseley was a prime
fellow throughout the country. He was an indifferent hunter, it
is true, and rather lazy to boot. But then he
(09:53):
could play the fiddle, and that was enough to make him.
Of consequence, there was no other man within a hundred
miles that could play the fiddle, so there was no
having a regular frolic without Bob Moseley. The hunters, therefore
were always ready to give him a share of their
game in exchange for his music, and Bob was always
(10:16):
ready to get up a carousal whenever there was a
party returning from a hunting expedition. The present frolic was
to take place at Bob Moseley's own house, which was
on the Pigeon Roost fork of the Muddy, which is
a branch of Rough Creek, which is a branch of
Green River. Everybody was agog for the revel at Bob Moseley's,
(10:40):
and as all the fashion of the neighborhood was to
be there, I thought I must brush up for the occasion.
My leathern hunting dress, which was the only one I had,
was somewhat the worse for wear, it is true, and
considerably japanned with blood and grease. But I was up
to hunting expedients. Getting into a periog, I paddled off
(11:04):
to a part of the Green River where there was
sand and clay that might serve for soap. Then, taking
off my dress, I scrubbed and scoured it until I
thought it looked very well. I then put it on
the end of a stick and hung it out of
the periog too dry, while I stretched myself very comfortably
(11:26):
on the green bank of the river. Unluckily, a flaw
struck the periog and tipped over the stick. Down went
my dress to the bottom of the river, and I
never saw it more. Here was I left almost in
a state of nature. I managed to make a kind
of Robinson Crusoe garb of undressed skins with the hair on,
(11:49):
which enabled me to get home with decency. But my
dream of gayety and fashion was at an end. For
how could I think of figuring in high life at
the pigeon Roost, equipped like a mere orson old miller
who really began to take some pride in me, was
confounded when he understood that I did not intend to
(12:12):
go to Bob Moseley's. But when I told him my
misfortune and that I had no dress, by the powers,
cried he, but you shall go, and you shall be
the best dressed and the best mounted lad there. He
immediately set to work to cut out and make up
a hunting shirt of dressed deer skin, gayly fringed at
(12:36):
the shoulders, and leggings of the same fringed from hip
to heel. He then made me a rakish raccoon cap
with a flaunting tail to it, mounted me on his
best horse, And I may say without vanity that I
was one of the smartest fellows that figured on that
occasion at the Pigeon Roost, fork of the Muddy. It
(13:00):
was no small occasion either. Let me tell you. Bob
Moseley's house was a tolerably large bark shanty with a
clappered roof, and there were assembled all the young hunters
and pretty girls of the country for many a mile round.
The young men were in their best hunting dresses, but
(13:20):
not one could compare with mine and my raccoon cap
with its flowing tail was the admiration of everybody. The
girls were mostly in doeskin dresses, for there was no
spinning and weaving as yet in the woods, nor any
need of it. I never saw girls that seemed to
(13:41):
me better dressed, and I was somewhat of a judge,
having seen fashions At Richmond. We had a hearty dinner
and a merry one, for there was Jemmy Keel, famous
for raccoon hunting, and Bob Tarlton and Wesley Pigman and
Joe Taylor, and several other prime fellows for a frolic
(14:02):
that made all ring again, and laughed that you might
have heard them a mile. After dinner, we began dancing
and were hard at it, when about three o'clock in
the afternoon, there was a new arrival, the two daughters
of Old Simon Schultz, two young ladies that affected fashion
(14:22):
and late hours. Their arrival had nearly put an end
to all our merriment. I must go a little round
about in my story to explain to you how that happened.
As Old Schultz, the father, was one day looking in
the cane brakes for his cattle. He came upon the
track of horses. He knew they were none of his,
(14:46):
and that none of his neighbors had horses about that place.
They must be stray horses, or must belong to some
traveler who had lost his way. As the track led nowhere,
he accordingly followed it up until he came to an
unlucky pedlar with two or three pack horses, who had
(15:07):
been bewildered among the cattle tracks and had wandered for
two or three days among woods and cane brakes until
he was almost famished. Old Schultz brought him to his house,
fed him on venison, bear's meat and hominy, and at
the end of a week, put him in prime condition.
(15:29):
The pedlar could not sufficiently express his thankfulness, and, when
about to depart, inquired what he had to pay. Old
Schultz stepped back with surprise. Stranger said he you have
been welcome under my roof. I've given you nothing but
wild meat and hominy because I had no better, but
(15:50):
have been glad of your company. You are welcome to
stay as long as you please, but by zounds. If
anyone offers to pay Simon Schultz for food, he affronts
him so, saying he walked out in a huff. The
pedler admired the hospitality of his host, but could not
reconcile it to his conscience to go away without making
(16:13):
some recompense. There were honest Simon's two daughters, two strapping,
red haired girls. He opened his packs and displayed riches
before them of which they had no conception, for in
those days there were no country's stores in those parts,
with their artificial finery and trinketry, and this was the
(16:37):
first peddler that had wandered into that part of the wilderness.
The girls were for a time completely dazzled, and knew
not what to choose. But what caught their eyes most
were two looking glasses about the size of a dollar,
set in gilt tin. They had never seen the like before,
(16:59):
having used no other mirror than a pail of water.
The peddler presented them these jewels without the least hesitation. Nay,
he gallantly hung them round their necks by red ribbons,
almost as fine as the glasses themselves. This done, he
took his departure, leaving them as much astonished as two
(17:21):
princesses in a fairy tale that have received a magic
gift from an enchanter. It was with these looking glasses
hung round their necks as lockets by red ribbons. That
Old Schultz's daughters made their appearance at three o'clock in
the afternoon at the frolic at Bob Moseley's on the
(17:42):
Pigeon Roost fork of the Muddy by the Powers. But
it was an event. Such a thing had never before
been seen in Kentucky. Bob Tarlton, a strapping fellow with
a head like a chestnut bar and a look like
a boar in an apple orchard, stepped up, caught hold
(18:02):
of the looking glass of one of the girls, and,
gazing at it for a moment, cried out, Joe Taylor,
come here, Come here. I'll be darned if Patty Schultz
ain't got a locket that you can see your face in,
as clear as in a spring of water in a twinkling.
All the young hunters gathered round Old Schultz's daughters. I,
(18:25):
who knew what looking glasses were, did not budge. Some
of the girls who sat near me were excessively mortified
at finding themselves thus deserted. I heard Peggy Pew say
to Sally Pigman, Goodness knows it's well Schultz's daughters has
got them things round their necks. For it's the first
(18:47):
time the young men crowded round them. I saw immediately
the danger of the case. We were a small community
and could not afford to be split up by feuds.
So I stepped up to the girls and whispered to them.
Polly said, I those lockets are powerful, fine, and become
(19:07):
you amazingly. But you don't consider that the country is
not advanced enough in these parts for such things. You
and I understand these manners, but these people don't. Fine.
Things like these may do very well in the old settlements,
but they won't answer at the pigeon roost fork of
the muddy. You had better lay them aside for the present,
(19:30):
or we shall have no peace. Polly and her sister
luckily saw their error. They took off the lockets, laid
them aside, and harmony was restored. Otherwise, I verily believe
that there would have been an end of our community. Indeed,
notwithstanding the great sacrifice they made on this occasion, I
(19:52):
do not think Old Schultz's daughters were ever much liked afterwards.
Among the young women. This was the first time that
looking glasses were ever seen in the Green River, part
of Kentucky. I had now lived some time with Old
Miller and had become a tolerably expert hunter. Game, however,
(20:14):
began to grow scarce. The buffalo had gathered together as
if by universal understanding, and had crossed the Mississippi, never
to return. Strangers kept pouring into the country, clearing away
the forests and building in all directions. The hunters began
to grow restive. Jimmy Keel, the same of whom I
(20:38):
have already spoken for his skill in raccoon catching, came
to me one day. I can't stand this any longer,
said he. We're getting too thick here. Simon Schultz crowded
me so that I have no comfort of my life.
Why how you talk, said I. Simon Schultz lives twelve
(20:59):
miles off no matter. His cattle run with mine, and
I've no idea of living where another man's cattle can
run with mine. That's too close neighborhood. I want elbow room.
This country too, is growing too poor to live in.
There's no game. So two or three of us have
(21:20):
made up our minds to follow the buffalo to the Missouri,
and we should like to have you of the party.
Other hunters of my acquaintance talked in the same manner.
This set me thinking. But the more I thought, the
more I was perplexed. I had no one to advise with.
Old Miller and his associates knew of but one mode
(21:42):
of life, and I had no experience in any other.
But I had a wider scope of thought. When out
hunting alone, I used to forget the sport and sit
for hours together on the trunk of a tree, with
rifle in hand, buried in thought and debating with myself.
Shall I go with Jemmy Keel and his company, or
(22:05):
shall I remain here? If I remain here, there will
soon be nothing left to hunt? But am I to
be a hunter all my life? Have not I something
more in me than to be carrying a rifle on
my shoulder day after day and dodging about after bears
and deer and other brute beasts? My vanity told me
(22:28):
I had, and I called to mind my boyish boasts
to my sister that I would never return home until
I returned a member of Congress from Kentucky. But was
this the way to fit myself for such a station?
Various plans passed through my mind, but they were abandoned
(22:48):
almost as soon as formed. At length, I determined on
becoming a lawyer. True it is, I knew almost nothing.
I had left school before I had learnt beyond the
rule of three. Never mind, said I to myself resolutely.
I am a terrible fellow for hanging on to anything
(23:09):
when I've once made up my mind. And if a
man has but ordinary capacity and will set to work
with heart and soul and stick to it, he can
do almost anything. With this maxim, which has been pretty
much my mainstay throughout life. I fortified myself in my
determination to attempt the law. But how was I too
(23:33):
set about it? I must quit this forest life and
go to one or other of the towns where I
might be able to study and to attend the courts.
This too required funds. I examined into the state of
my finances. The purse given me by my father had
remained untouched in the bottom of an old chest up
(23:56):
in the loft. For money was scarcely needed in these parts.
I had bargained away the skins acquired in hunting for
a horse, and various other matters on which, in case
of need I could raise funds. I therefore thought I
could make shift to maintain myself until I was fitted
(24:16):
for the bar. I informed my worthy host and patron,
Old Miller, of my plan. He shook his head at
my turning my back upon the woods when I was
in a fair way of making a first rate hunter,
but he made no effort to dissuade me. I accordingly
set off in September on horseback, intending to visit Lexington, Frankfort,
(24:41):
and other of the principal towns in search of a
favorable place to prosecute my studies. My choice was made
sooner than I expected. I had put up one night
at Bardstown and found on inquiry that I could get
comfortable board and accommodation in a private family for a
dollar and a half a week. I liked the place
(25:05):
and resolved to look no farther. So the next morning
I prepared to turn my face homeward and take my
final leave of forest life. I had taken my breakfast
and was waiting for my horse, when in pacing up
and down the piazza, I saw a young girl seated
near a window, evidently a visitor. She was very pretty,
(25:29):
with auburn hair and blue eyes, and was dressed in white.
I had seen nothing of the kind since I had
left Richmond, and at that time I was too much
of a boy to be much struck by female charms.
She was so delicate and dainty, looking so different from
the hail bosom brown girls of the woods, and then
(25:53):
her white dress. It was perfectly dazzling. Never was poor
youth more taken by supper and suddenly bewitched. My heart
yearned to know her, But how was I to accost her.
I had grown wild in the woods and had none
of the habitudes of polite life. Had she been like
(26:15):
Peggy Pew or Sally Pigman, or any other of my
leathern dressed bells of the pigeon roost, I should have
approached her without dread. Nay, had she been as fair
as Schultz's daughters with their looking glass lockets, I should
not have hesitated. But that white dress and those auburn
(26:36):
ringlets and blue eyes and delicate looks quite daunted while
they fascinated me. I don't know what put it into
my head, but I thought all at once that I
would kiss her. It would take a long acquaintance to
arrive at such a boon that I might seize upon
it by sheer robbery. Nobody knew me here. I would
(27:00):
just step in, snatch a kiss, mount my horse, and
ride off. She would not be the worse for it.
And that kiss, Oh, I should die if I did
not get it. I gave no time for the thought
to cool, but entered the house and stepped lightly into
the room. She was seated with her back to the door,
(27:23):
looking out at the window, and did not hear my approach.
I tapped her chair, and as she turned and looked up,
I snatched as sweet a kiss as ever was stolen,
and vanished in a twinkling. The next moment, I was
on horseback, galloping homeward, my very ears tingling at what
(27:43):
I had done. On my return home, I sold my
horse and turned everything to cash, and found, with the
remains of the paternal purse that I had nearly four
hundred dollars, a little capital which I resolved to manage
with the strictest economy. It was hard parting with old Miller,
(28:06):
who had been like a father to me. It cost
me too, something of a struggle to give up the free,
independent wild wood life I had hitherto led. But I
had marked out my course and have never been one
to flinch or turn back. End of Section eighteen.
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