90 WILD SCENES AND WILD HUNTERS. 
floods saw me amongst their springs. The salt and tumbling 
Gulf tossed me upon its southern shores, and broad savannahs 
swelled in my westward course into undulating plains; and 
they yet rose, across their wearisome breadth, into tall, 
rounded hills, that grew apace, with crags upon their heads, 
until heap upon heap far glinting through the clouds, the 
pinnacled sharp rocks climbed upwards, and the vast forest 
of crags spread its white bloomy tops among the stars. 
My restless step was everywhere; my eager eyes saw all 
that our great continent could show. The grizzly bear and 
the tropic bird were equally known to me. The savage 
trooper and the Mexican slave had been familiars, as well as 
the fierce bandit, and the stern, simple-hearted hunter. Years 
of my earlier manhood passed in these erratic wanderings. I 
had grown familiar with all wild, grotesque and lonely crea- 
tures that populate those infinite solitudes of nature, “that 
own not man’s dominion.” The vision and the passions of 
my boyhood still haunted me, and the rustling of free wings 
by my ear yet awakened all pleasant images. 
Now, I felt that I had a right to know and see, face to 
face, that remarkable man whose deeds and life had so much 
occupied my imagination—who had so made a living reality 
out of what had been to me the poetry of life—aye, a poetry 
which had proved with me, stronger 
‘Than stipulations, duties, reverences, 
and driven me far and wide, an April shadow chased before 
the fitful wind! 
Should I ever see him? The eager questioning lived about 
my heart whenever I heard his name. I returned home, “the 
prodigal son,” my spirit much tamed and chastened ; yet the 
old leaven fermenting deep beneath the calmer surface. 
My restless steps had not long been still. I became again 
a traveler. 
Our boat landed one morning about daybreak at Pittsburg 
