270 THE GEOKGE CATLIN INDIAN GALLEEY. 



376. Viev/ on Upper Missouri ; "Floyd's grave," where Lewis a,nd Clarke buried 

 Sergeant Floyd thirty-three years since ; a cedar post and sign over the 

 grave. 



(Plates Nos. 117 and US', page 4, vol. 2, Catlin's Eight Years.) 



" Floyd's grave" is a name given to one of the most lovely and imposing mounds or 

 bluffs on the Missouri Eiver, about twelve hundred miles above Saint Louis, from the 

 melancholy fate of Sergeant Floyd, who was of Lewis and Clarke's expedition in 1806 ; 

 who died on the way, and whose body was taken to this beautiful hill and buried in 

 its top, where now stands a cedar post bearing the initials of his name. 



I landed my canoe in front of this grass-covered mound, and, all hands being fatigued, 

 we encamped a couple of days at its base. I several times ascended it and sat iipon 

 his grave, overgrown with grass and the most delicate wild flowers, where I sat and 

 contemplated the solitude and stillness of this tenanted mound, and beheld from its 

 top the windings infinite of the Missouri and its thousand hills and domes of green, 

 vanishing into blue in distance, when naught but the soft-breathing winds were heard 

 to break the stillness and quietude of the scene ; where not the chirping of bird or 

 sound of cricket, nor soaring eagle's scream were interposed 'tween God and man ; 

 nor aught to check man's whole surrender of his soul to his Creator. I could not hunt 

 upon this ground, but I roamed from hill-top to hill-top and culled wild flowers, and 

 looked into the valley below me, both up the river and down, and contemplated 

 the thousand hills and dales that are now carpeted with green, streaked as they will 

 be with the plow and yellow with the harvest sheaf; spotted with lowing kine, with 

 houses and fences and groups of hamlets and villas, and these lovely hill-tops ringing 

 with the giddy din and maze or secret earnest whispers of love-sick swains ; of pris- 

 tine simplicity of and virtue; wholesome and well-earned contentment and abun- 

 dance, and again, of wealth and refinement, of idleness and luxury ; of vice and its 

 deformities ; of fire and sword, and the vengeance of offended Heaven, wreaked in re- 

 tributive destruction, and peace and quiet and loveliness, and silence, dwelling again 

 over and through these scenes and blending them into futurity. 



Many such scenes there are and thousands on the Missouri shores. My canoe has 

 been stopped and I have clambered up their grassy and flower-decked sides, and 

 sighed all alone, as I have carefally traced and fastened them in colors on my canvas. 



This voyage in my little canoe, amid the thousand islands and grass-covered blufis 

 that stud the shores of this mighty river, afl'orded me infinite pleasure, mingled with 

 pains and privations which I never shall wish to forget. Gliding along from day to 

 day and tiring our eyes on the varying landscaj)es that were continually opening to 

 our view, my merry voyageurs were continually chanting their cheerful boat songs, 

 and " every now and then," taking up their unerring rifles to bring down the stately 

 elks or antelopes which were often gazing at us from the shores of the river. — G. C. 



THE DEATH OF SERGEANT FLOYD. 



The next morning (August 20, 1804), * * * we had the misfortune to lose one 

 of our sergeants, Charles Floyd. He was yesterday seized with a bilous colic, and all 

 our care and attention were iuefi'ectual to relieve him. A little before his death he 

 said to Captain Clarke, " I am going to leave you!" His strength failed him as he 

 added, " I want you to write me a letter!" But he died with a composure which 

 justified the high opinion we had formed of his firmness and good conduct. He was 

 buried on the top of the bluff with the honors due to a brave soldier, and the place 

 of his interment marked by a cedar post, on which his name and the day of his death 

 were inscribed. About a mile beyond this place, to which we gave his name, is a 

 small river, about thirty yards wide, on the north, which we called Floyd's Eiver, 

 where we encamped. — Lewis and Clarke's Expedition, pages 75-7(5, vol. 1. 



