CHAPTER II.

ARRIVAL AT HOPSON'S CHOICE-THE VOYAGE CONTINUED TO LOUISIANA-PLACED IN A FRENCH FAMILY-LEARNS THE FRENCH LANGUAGE, AND ENTIRELY FORGETS HIS OWN.

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IN ten days we reached the encampment of General Wayne, at a place called Hopson's choice, now a part of the city of Cincinnati. have no distinct recollection of the appearance of the Ohio river in the course of our descent, except that, instead of being enlivened by towns. and farms along its banks, it was a woody wilderness, shut in to the water's edge. At that time, the fair city, which now vies with the most ancient seats of civilization and the arts on this continent, was not. Excepting the openings and clearings made for the camp, the ground was covered by lofty trees and entangled vines.

My recollections of the army are also indistinct the beating of drums, the clangour of trumpets, and the movements of horse and foot, still pass through my memory, but not so clearly distinguishable as the shadows of the phantasmagoria. In fact, we remained here but a few

days, when we floated off again into the stream; our party now consisting of my guardian (as I will call him) and another man, and a little boy about my own age. We now proceeded as silently as we could, keeping, as near as possible, on the Kentucky side of the river, from apprehension of the Indians. How deep a solitude at that day reigned along the beautiful banks of the Ohio! The passage to Louisville from Pittsburgh at that period was dangerous, and frequent murders were committed by Indians on whole families descending the river, a danger which was not sufficient to repress emigration.

I do not remember Louisville, or the Falls' as the place was then called; the waters being high, the rapids were probably not visible, and the boat passed over them, as over any other part of the river. From this place, to the mouth of the river, about five hundred miles, the banks presented an uninterrupted wilderness; the solitude was not disturbed by a single human voice, out of our boat. We encountered a river storm, not many miles from the Mississippi; the waves tossed us about, and dashed over the sides of the boat, threatening either to overwhelm us, or to cast us on a desert shore. What a contrast to the gentle Ohio, was presented when we entered the current of the mighty 'father of rivers,' with his prodigious volume, rolling in turbid eddies and whorls, with whole forests of driftwood on his surface. were swiftly hurried along, and soon reached L'ana a la Gresse or New Madrid, the termina

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tion of our voyage. This place was then a small Spanish military post; as we approached the landing, a soldier or officer made his appearance on the bank, and flourished his sword with a fierce, consequential air; and all this, for the purpose of indicating the place for us to land.

I was placed in a French or Spanish family for a couple of weeks, during which time I saw nothing of my guardian. Although it was an agreeable circumstance, to be once more on firm land, and have room to run about, yet I was among strangers, whose language I did not understand, and my fare was not as good as that I might have expected if I had been apprenticed to an anchorite. Coarse black bread, a kind of catfish soup, hot with pepper, and seasoned with garlick, was almost the only food they gave me. When I look back, the time spent at this dreary place seems to be a black speck on my past Îife. In the mean time, my guardian was probably making preparations for a journey through the wilderness, to the settlements of Upper Louisiana, on the Illinois, as they were called, and I was glad when he came to take me away. He had procured horses for himself and his guide, and a small poney for me. A supply of provisions was provided, a part packed on each horse, with a coffee pot, tin cups, and a hatchet, the usual outfits of travellers through the wilderness. A blanket for each was all our bedding, and there being no houses on the way, we took our chance for the weather. Many years afterwards, I travelled over the same way, passed the same swamps, and swam the same

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streams, and a more disagreeable country to travel over cannot easily be found in the United States. Our path lay through an Indian village of Shawanese, who treated us well; but I trembled at the sight of them, having learned to look upon these people as demons. Being on Spanish ground, they would not have molested us, even if they had known that we were not Spaniards. After a week or ten days, we arrived, without any material accident, at the village of St Genevieve, situated on the Mississippi, although not immediately on its banks.

My guardian carried me directly to the house of M. Bauvais, a respectable, and comparatively wealthy inhabitant of the village, and then took his departure the same evening. Not a soul in the village, except the curate, understood a word of English, and I was possessed of but two French words, oui and non. I sallied into the street, or rather highway, for the houses were far apart, a large space being occupied for yards and gardens by each. I soon found a crowd of boys at play; curiosity drew them around me, and many questions were put by them, which I answered alternately, with the aid of the before mentioned monosyllables, "Where have you come from?" "Yes." "what is your name?" "No." To the honour of these boys be it spoken, or rather to the honour of their parents who had taught them true politeness-instead of turning me into ridicule, as soon as they discovered I was a strange boy, they vied with each other in showing me every act of kindness.

M. Bauvais was a tall, dry, old French Canadian, dressed in the costume of the place: that is, with a blue cotton handkerchief on his head, one corner thereof descending behind and partly covering the eel skin which bound his hair; a check shirt; coarse linen pantaloons on his hips; and the Indian sandal, or moccasin, the only covering to the feet worn here by both

sexes.

He was a man of a grave and serious aspect, entirely unlike the gay Frenchmen we are accustomed to see; and this seriousness was not a little heightened, by the fixed rigidity of the maxillary muscles, occasioned by having his pipe continually in his mouth, except while in bed, or at mass, or during meals. Let it not be supposed that I mean to speak disrespectfully, or with levity, of most estimable man; my object in describing him, is to give an idea of many other fathers of families of the village. Madame Bauvais was a large fat lady, with an open cheerful countenance, and an expression of kindness and affection to her numerous offspring, and to all others excepting her coloured domestics, towards whom she was rigid and severe. She was, notwithstanding, a most pious and excellent woman, and, as a French wife ought to be, completely mistress of the family. Her eldest daughter was an interesting young woman; two others were nearly grown, and all were handsome. I will trespass a little on the patience of the reader, to give some account of the place where I was domiciliated; that is, of the house in which I