38 P O R T y - F O U R Y E A R 8 O r 



pected to make my residence, and wlien they should look 

 for my return. To all questions 1 made the same reply — 

 that it would be very uncertain 'vhen I should return, if 

 I ever returned at all ; when Lina took the opportunity 

 lo tell me when I would come back. That would be, she 

 said, as soon as I began to think about that pretty little 

 bird that I had been telling them of last night, I replied 

 that I would go out to the far West and look me up a 

 pretty little squaw, and live among the Indians and hunt 

 buffaloes and bears. 



" Well," said Lina, "when you undertake that, the In- 

 dians will take off your scalp ; and really, I think it would 

 be of no consequence if they did." She spoke with seem- 

 ing warmth, which raised a burst of laughter round the 

 table, and ended the discourse. 



Breakfast over, I began to talk of starting on ray way ; 

 but all hands thought the day was too cold and stormy. 

 Having now commenced my journey, however, I wished to 

 see the end of it, and I would not agree to lose a day. 

 So, bidding all farewell, I set off for Union Town, which 

 was twenty-two miles distant. I traveled at a tolerable 

 gait till I fell into Braddock's old road, which I found 

 well broken. I proceeded on till I reached the summit of 

 the great Laurel Mountain, and looked as far west as J 

 thought I could travel next day; while nearer to me, and 

 in full view, laid the little town where I intended to lodge 

 that night, which I reached as daylight was about leaving 

 me. 



Here was a boy, not sixteen years old till the following 

 March, thrown out into a strange country, without friends, 

 without money, and, worse than all, without education ; 

 like a wild colt in the wilderness, to stray where he 

 pleased. 



The land )rd, being a friend of both my uncles, would 

 act charge me anything when I was about to leave the 



