On the 15th of August I received a letter from Uhl, telling me that he was with my old acquaintance, the Rhenish-Bavarian, at Little Red river, and that he was going to join Turowski in farming. I had too lively a remembrance of the kindness of old Hilger not to take a walk to visit him; therefore, as soon as our fodder was all in, I prepared for my journey, and early on the 20th of August I shouldered my rifle, and, with one of S.’s dogs by my side, set off in the hottest season of the year through the dried swamp. The atmosphere was sultry in the extreme, but by evening I had reached the bank of White river, a distance of thirty-two miles, where I passed the night.
I was ferried across at daybreak, and had forty miles to go to reach the Little Red river. The south bank of the White is one of the most fertile in America, on which account it rejoices in the name of “Oiltrove bottom.” Some say that the soil is better than that of the American bottom opposite St. Louis; and this is my opinion, having seen from sixty to seventy bushels of maize to the acre, and pumpkins larger than a man can lift. Trees grow to an enormous size, some of the trunks of the sassafras trees measuring from five to six feet in diameter; pawpaw trees are also very numerous. This last is a small tree bearing a fruit about four or five inches long, and two to two and a half inches thick, having a soft sweetish pulp, with numbers of oily kernels. Generally speaking, the Americans do not value it much, though some are very fond of it. It was not at all to my taste; its bark is very tough, and is useful for a variety of purposes, amongst others for ropes. The valley of the White river is full of these trees, and of the thick American canes, or reeds, which form impenetrable thickets, and are the favorite haunts of bears. Just now this fruit was quite out of favor, and even the pigs would no longer eat it, when a distiller of the name of Magnus tried its qualities, and extracted such a superior spirit from it, that he declared he would not sell a drop of it, but keep it all for his own drinking.
Not to lose time, I had set off in the morning without breakfast, and by the time I had walked six miles had a very respectable appetite. Looking out for a house, I espied one about an hundred paces from the path. The door was open, and the family were just sitting down to breakfast; nothing better could be wished for. I sprang over the fence, and asked a stout pale man if I could have something to eat by paying for it; on receiving the expected answer I joined the company. Maize bread, coffee, and bacon, the usual breakfast in this part of the world, was spread out on the table, and I was preparing to set to with a will, when the man sitting by my side, after looking at me with a mournful expression, asked if I had ever in my life seen a man who was subject to epilepsy. Now such a question could be nowhere more out of place than when addressed to a hungry man sitting down to a good breakfast, so I answered shortly, “Yes, sir.” “Well then,” said he, “don’t be surprised if you see me attacked before breakfast is over, for at times it comes on very suddenly.” If any one had told me that the meat on the table, instead of good pork, was a piece of salted negro, it could not have taken away my appetite more effectually than did this grave announcement. I looked at the man in astonishment: he was very pale, and looked serious, and not at all given to joking. I looked at his wife, who was pale almost to transparency: I looked at the children, who were also deadly pale, but more dirty than transparent. I gulped down the cup of coffee in despair, gave the dog, who probably had not heard the observation, or cared nothing for it, the bread off my plate, which he eagerly took, paid my quarter dollar, the usual price for a breakfast, and continued my journey.
For some time I kept the broad road towards Batesville, then struck off to the left through the forest, and, going tolerably fast, arrived before sunset at the plantation of a widow named Pace, where I intended to pass the night, having still ten miles to go to Little Red river, and no other house near the path. The roof reflected the last beams of the setting sun; my stomach, which had received nothing but the coffee since the previous evening, was beginning to rejoice, when we both found ourselves wofully disappointed—the lady was not at home. The slaves dared not admit any stranger to sleep there. I should not have cared about a roof to sleep under, for the nights were fine and warm, if only I could have obtained something to eat; but this could not be, and I was obliged to employ the fine warm night in walking on to the place of my destination.
After the sun had gone down, my light-colored, well-trodden path was illuminated by the nearly full moon, for I had left the darker lowlands some hours ago, and was traversing dry, but not very fruitful, hills, through the midst of fir-trees. About two miles short of the river, I gained the crest of the hills that divide the waters of the White and Little Red rivers, just as the moon was setting, and my limbs felt as if they were hung with lead. I had gone seventy miles since the previous morning without tasting a regular meal, which was more than flesh and blood could bear for any length of time, and at last I was so overcome by fatigue that I sank down exhausted under a tree without even lighting a fire. The poor dog lay by my side, resting his head on my arm. I might have slept about three hours, for the first gleam of approaching day was lighting up the eastern sky, when I was awakened by the loud, angry bark of the dog. I jumped up, rifle in hand, but could see nothing and hear nothing: I cheered on the dog, but in vain: he would not move from my side, and only barked louder and louder. I fancied he might have scented wolves, and was about to lie down again, when I distinctly heard a rustling in the bush, although there was not a breath of wind. I approached the place cautiously with both barrels cocked, but could discover nothing; and as it was still dark, and no trail perceptible, I could do no more, so lay down again for another short sleep, when I suddenly heard the short piercing roar of a panther, which those who have once heard never forget. My dog answered it with a slight whimper, and crept closer to my side. I now knew the character of my nightly visitor; and tolerably sure that, once frightened away, he would be in no hurry to return, I was soon asleep, and remained so till awakened by the cold air which always precedes the rising sun.
As beautiful a panorama as I had ever beheld lay spread out before me. A sea of forest as far as the eye could reach, in every shade of color, from the darkest green to light blue—the Little Red river winding through the midst of it, while a light downy mist hung about the tips of the trees on its banks. To the west and south-west, the distant mountains cut sharply in a mass of blue against the lighter morning sky. Hills overgrown with pines rose above the darker extent of oak, like islands floating in a deep green sea, as the sun’s rays were reflected from the dewy leaves. Light vapor rising here and there from the valleys, curling over the forest, and vanishing into air, revealed the site of human habitations hidden in the woods. I sat long, lost in contemplation of the lovely scene, and again the question pressed itself upon me—“Why must I enjoy it alone?” Then I remembered my visitor of the past night, and, shaking off all mournful thoughts, looked out for the trail; and there, hardly twenty paces from my bivouac, were the marks of the large round paws of the beast impressed in the loose sand. He had probably tried to creep up to me without being discovered, but the dog had spoiled his sport.
Refreshed by sleep, I hastened down the hill, found a canoe, which took me over the river, and soon the well-known friendly abode of the Rhenish-Bavarian shone invitingly before me. It seemed almost as if it was my home, from which I had been long, long absent, and that all its dear inmates would rush joyfully forward to embrace me. Alas for our dreams!
Hilger and his wife welcomed me with a hearty shake of the hand. I soon felt myself at home and happy with these kind people, and I was not a little delighted with the breakfast, which quickly adorned the table, and which did not taste amiss after my long fast.
Hilger had made vast improvements in his condition since I was here two years ago. He had bought the land, had a pair of horses, several head of cattle and pigs, and lived happy and independent in the circle of his family, which, in the mean time had been increased by the birth of a little prince. His two sons, of fifteen and thirteen, were nice lads, and worked hard with their father to make their way in the world happily and honestly.
Uhl came in in the afternoon from a place belonging to Von G., about two miles off. He looked very pale and wretched, still suffering severely from ague. I was delighted to pass a short time here among Germans, where I could speak my mother-tongue to my heart’s content, and live like a man. Peaches and watermelons grow here in great abundance, and were a treat which I had long been deprived of.