Alexander Wilson. 



227 



in a perpetual uproar of barking. This 

 man was one of those people called squat- 

 ters, who neither pay rent nor own land, 

 but keep roving on the frontiers, advanc- 

 ing as the tide of civilization approaches. 

 They are the immediate successors of the 

 savages, and far below them in good sense 

 and good manners as well as comfortable 

 accommodations. * * * 



"In the afternoon of the 15th I entered 

 Big Bone Creek, which, passable only about 

 a quarter of mile, I secured my boat, and 

 left my baggage under the care of a decent 

 family near and set out on foot five miles 

 through the woods for the Big Bone Lick, 

 that great antediluvian rendezvous of the 

 American elephants. This place, which 

 lies ' far in the windings of a sheltered 

 vale,' afforded me a fund of amusement in 

 shooting ducks and parroquets (of which 

 last I skinned twelve, and brought off two 

 slightly wounded), and in examining the 

 ancient buffalo roads to this great licking 

 place. 



" McColquhoun, the proprietor, was not 

 at home, but his agent and manager enter- 

 tained me as well as he was able, and was 

 much amused with my enthusiasm. The 

 place is a low valley everywhere surrounded 

 by high hills; in the center, by the side of 

 the creek, is a quagmire of near an acre, 

 from which, and another small one below, 

 the chief part of these large bones have 

 been taken; at the latter place I found nu- 

 merous fragments of large bone, lying scat- 

 tered about. In pursuing a wounded duck 

 across this quagmire, I had nearly deposited 

 my carcass among the grand congregation 

 of mammals below, having sunk up to the 

 middle, and had hard struggling to get 

 out. * * * 



" A number of turkeys which I observed 

 from time to time on the Indiana shore 

 made me lose half the morning in search 

 of them. On the Kentucky shore I was 

 also decoyed by the same temptations, but 

 never could approach near enough to shoot 



one of them. These affairs detained me 

 so, that I was dubious whether I should be 

 able to reach Louisville that night. Night 

 came on and I could hear nothing of the 

 falls. About night I heard the first roar- 

 ing of the rapids, and as it increased I was 

 every moment in hopes of seeing the lights 

 of Louisville; but no lights appeared and 

 the noise seemed now within less than half 

 a mile of me. Seriously alarmed lest I 

 might be drawn into the suction of the 

 falls I cautiously coasted along shore which 

 was full of snags and sawyers, and at length 

 with great satisfaction opened Bear Grass 

 Creek, when I secured my skiff to a Ken- 

 tucky boat, and loading myself with my 

 baggage, I groped my way through a 

 swamp up to the town. The next day I 

 sold my skiff for exactly half what it cost 

 me; and the man who bought it wondered 

 why I gave it such a droll Indian name 

 (The Ornithologist). ' Some old chief or 

 warrior I suppose?' said he." 



Wilson examined the falls by daylight 

 and found them by no means so formidable 

 as he had imagined, he saw two arks and a 

 barge shoot them with ease, and felt quite 

 confident of his own ability to negotiate 

 them with his skiff. He describes the 

 country around Louisville as swampy and 

 unhealthy, with every facility for draining 

 the swamps, redeeming their fertile soil, 

 and rendering the location as healthy as 

 any on the river. 



From Louisville he set out on foot for 

 Lexington, seventy-two miles distant, and 

 saw very little to commend. The soil, he 

 says, is of the richest, but the log houses 

 are described as of the meanest, and a gen- 

 eral air of slovenliness characterizes the 

 homestead and its surroundings. Want of 

 bridges was in those days a serious incon- 

 venience to the foot traveler, and Wilson 

 tells us that between Shelbyville and Frank- 

 fort, having gone out of his way to see a 

 pigeon roost, he waded a deep creek called 

 Benson nine or ten times. 



