HABITUAL RESERVE OF THE AMERICANS. 83 



The following is an account of his visit to Slowtrap's 

 dwelling in Arkansas ; and some of his hunting adven- 

 tures in company with his hospitable friend : 



At length the swamps were behind us. We crossed 

 a small prairie, passe4 an old buffalo salt-lick, and ar- 

 rived at Slowtrap's dwelling, planted on a spur of the 

 hills- which ran out into the plains. It was in no way 

 different from the usual log-houses, sixteen feet square, 

 from nine to ten high, with an enormous fireplace, no 

 window, and weighted roof; close by was afield of about 

 seven acres, planted with maize. His wife and children 

 stood at the door as we arrived, and although I knew 

 that they were much attached to each other, and lived 

 happily together, and he had been about three weeks 

 absent, not the least word was exchanged that could be 

 construed into a greeting. " Take my saddle in," said 

 S. to his eldest son, a boy of eight years old, who was 

 leaning on the fence, looking at us as if we were perfect 

 strangers, in whom he had no concern. At last, when 

 the horse was cared for, and all things in their places, 

 S. went into the house, took a seat, and lifted his young- 

 est child into his lap; and then he said, "How do you 

 do, all of you?" This distant reserve of the Ame- 

 ricans, so prevalent even in their own families, often 

 struck cold on my heart, and made me regret my native 

 land. Man and wife are often as reserved towards each 

 other as two, strangers who meet for the first time, and 

 care not about meeting again. I have seen Americans 

 leave home, to be absent for months, without shaking 

 hands with their wives, or saying "good-bye," and it is 

 the same on their return. I must believe, for the honor 



