Boone, yet living, is unknown to his full fame. From the country of his choice, and of his fondest predilection, he has been banished, by difficulties he knew not how to surmount-and is now a resident of the Missouri, a Spanish territory.* Nor will the lapse of time, in which fancy often finds her store-house of materials for biography--much less the rigid rules of modern history, permit the aid of imagination, to magnify his name. with brilliant epithets; or otherwise adorn, a narrative of simple facts. Yet history shall do him justice; and those who come after him, may balance his relative claims, to the regards of posterity.

The ancestors of Daniel Boone, resided in Maryland, where he was born, about the year 1746. More of a Nimrod, than a Joshua, as he grew to manhood, he sought the wild game, with his gun, and found out the place for his city, which he built, and peopled-before he ruled.

From his boyhood, Boonc, discovered, a strong prepossession for hunting, and ranging the uncultivated parts of the country. And to this disposition may be ascribed his removal, without his parents, to Virginia; and thence to North Carolina, recently settled, where he went; in both instances as a hunter, to countries abounding at the time, with wild game, of different kinds.

Without the incumbrance of worldly goods, to give him local attachments; and without the illumination of science to enable him to shine in society; at the age of eighteen, he found himself possessed of high health, and a vigorous constitution; supported by great muscular strength, and nervous activity. What if his heart did ache, when he bade farewell to his native home? His sole reliance for support, was on his own arm; and that had been taught, rather to poise the rifle, than to use the plough. He delighted to chase on foot, the wild deer: and this propensity had often led him to places remote from the habitations of men. Accustomed to be much alone, he acquired the habit of contemplation, and of self-possession. His mind was not of the most ardent nature; nor does he ever seem to

have sought knowledge through the medium of books. Natú rally, his sagacity was considerable; and as a woodsman, he was soon expert, and ultimately, supereminent. Far from ferocity, his temper was mild, humane, and charitable; his manners gentle; his address conciliating; his heart open to friendship, and hopitality. Yet his most remarkable quality, was an enduring, and unshakeable fortitude.

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

ries; especially some powder and lead, indispensable to their

existence.

Soon after this period, John Stewart, was killed by the Indians; and the two Boones, remained the only white men in the forests of Kentucky. They continued during the succeeding winter the only tenants of a cabin, which they with tomahawks, erected of poles and bark, to shelter themselves from the inclemency of the season.

The death of John Stewart, being the first perpetrated by the Indians, on the white adventurers in Kentucky, deserves to be particularly commemorated. Upon this subject, a few facts only, have been preserved by tradition. It was in 1769, after Squire Boone had joined his brother, and Stewart, who had recently been prisoners with the Indians, that those barbarians, becoming more hostile, had recourse to death, instead of bondage, as the surer method of getting rid of their new rivals in the art of hunting. As Boone, and his companions, were traversing the forest just disrobed of its foilage, they were suddenly met on the side of a cane-break, and immediately fired on by a superior party of Indians. John Stewart received. a mortal wound, and fell; while his comrades, incapable of assisting him, immediately fled. An Indian, as their custom had been from time immemorial, rushed upon the fallen victim; and winding one hand in the hair, on the crown of his head, with a large knife in the other, took off the scalp, which left bare his scull. At many other times, and places, was this bar barous scene enacted on the heads of our adventurous countrymen; and well did they repay the savages, "in their own coin;" as in the sequel will be shewn. But this is man's characteristic he "will do unto others, as they do unto him." And it is. owing to a refined benevolence, or a christian precept, that he is taught otherwise. For it is a fact, that may be committed to history, that white men, calling themselves civilized, and even christans, in their wars against the Indians, became themselves, Indians in practice; and did those things, without remorse; of which, in other cases, they would have been ashamed, and repented; as it is hoped, and believed.

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

his camp.

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

Thus, in a second paradise, was a second Adam-if the figúre is not too strong-giving names to springs, rivers, and places, before unknown to civilized white men; or others, known to modern times-if any such there were.

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

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

The Indians were repulsed, and fled; but in the mean time, the cattle belonging to the sojourners were dispersed; the relatives of the deceased greatly affected; and the survivers gene rally, so disheartened by present feelings, and future prospects, that it was thought best to retreat to the settlement on Clinch river; distant about forty miles: which was done, in good order, without further molestation. This being accomplished, Boone remained on the frontier with his family, a hunter still, till June, 1774. By this time he was made known to the governor of Virginia, and solicited by him, to repair to the rapids of the Ohio, to conduct from thence a party of surveyors whose longer stay was rendered peculiarly dangerous-by the increasing hostility of the northward Indians.

This service was undertaken by Boone, who with Michael Stoner, as his only companion, travelled the pathless region between reached the place of destination with great celerity, considering the difficulty of travelling without a path, found the surveyors, and piloted them safely home, through the woods -after an absence of two months.

This year, there were open hostilities with the Shawanees, and other northward Indians, as already intimated; and Boone being still in Virginia, received an order from the governor, to take the command of three contiguous forts, on the frontier; with the commission of captain.

The campaign of that year, after the battle at the Point, terminated in a peace, as heretofore stated; and the militia sent to the frontier garrisons or stations, were discharged. Captain Boone being now at leisure, and Colonel Henderson and com