THE DARKIE FIDDLER. 447 
we give it none. Yet there is one droll incident with which 
my boyhood was familiar, which seems to indicate a certain 
susceptibility to the softer emotions—or more refized senses 
—at least. 
In the early days of the settlement of South Kentucky, 
there was great trouble with the wolves. The large gray 
wolf of the more wooded northern and middle districts, greatly 
abounded in the heavy forests of the Green River Bottom, 
particularly in th. neighborhood of Henderson, which is 
situated on the Ohio, not far below the mouth of Green 
River. The barn-yard suffered to a great extent, in the way 
of pigs, calves, etc., from their depredations, which frequently, 
in mid-winter, were even carried to the audacious extreme 
of attacking human beings. Indeed, it was no unusual thing 
for the belated footman, at such times, when they were 
pressed by hunger, to find himself surrounded by a herd of 
them in the woods. Some striking stories of hair-breadth 
escapes and desperate ventures, belong to this period and 
condition of things. No one of them ever made a stronger 
impression upon me than the adventure of old Dick, the 
fiddler. 
He was “a good old good-for-nothing darkie,” as the word 
went in the neighborhood, whose sole merit consisted in his 
fiddling—but, by the way !—singular as this merit was,—it 
in reality constituted him by far the most important “ gemmen 
of color” within forty miles around. The fact is, nothing 
of any interest could occur without his presence! It was 
as important—skinny as it was!—as the very face of the 
man in the moon,—beneath whose auspices the corn-shockings, 
the weddings, the “break-downs” and Juba dances of the 
neighborhood were enacted. 
Old Dick, who was the property of one of the Hendersons, 
from whom the town and county take their names, was 
esteemed by his good-natured and wealthy master as decidedly 
