AUDUBON AND BOONE. : 158 
Admitted by Nature to her most tender confidences, the 
Hunter-Naturalist seems also to have been chosen as the 
favored intimate of her convulsed and most terrible moods. 
We have seen him here ride unharmed amidst the hurricane 
of the Tropics, let us now turn to him standing secure “a 
looker-on,”’ beside its fearful track in the West. He thus 
describes the scene :— 
I had left the village of Shawney, situated on the banks of 
the Ohio, on my return from Henderson, which is also situated 
on the banks of the same beautiful stream. The weather 
was pleasant, and I thought not warmer than usual at that 
season. My horse was jogging quietly along, and my thoughts 
were, for once at least in the course of my life, entirely en- 
gaged in commercial speculations. I had forded Highland 
Creek, and was on the eve of entering a tract of bottom land 
or valley that lay between it and Canoe Creek, when on a 
sudden I remarked a great difference in the aspect of the 
heavens. A hazy thickness had overspread the country, and I 
for some time expected an earthquake, but my horse exhibited 
no propensity to stop and prepare for such an occurrence. 
I had nearly arrived at the verge of the valley, when I 
thought fit to stop near a brook, and dismounted to quench 
the thirst which had comne upon me. 
I was leaning on my knees, with my lips about to touch 
the water, when, from my proximity to the earth, I heard a 
distant murmuring sound of an extraordinary nature. I 
drank, however, and as I rose on my feet, looked towards 
the south-west, where I observed a yellowish oval spot, the 
appearance of which was qiite new to me. Little time was 
left me for consideration, as the next moment a smart breeze 
began to agitate the taller trees. It increased to an unex- 
pected height, and already the smaller branches and twigs were 
seen falling in a slanting direction towards the ground. Two 
minutes had scarcely elapsed, when the whole forest before 
me was in fearful motion. Here and there, where one tree 
