Daniel Boone: The Pioneer of Kentucky

by John S. C. Abbott

He visited Reading, probably influenced by a faint hope of finding there a home. A few of his former acquaintances were living, and many family friends remained. By all he was received with the greatest kindness. But the frontier settlement of log huts, and the majestic surrounding forests filled with game, had entirely disappeared. Highly cultivated farms, from which even the stumps of the forest had perished, extended in all directions. Ambitious mansions adorned the hillsides, and all the appliances of advancing civilization met the eye. There could be no home here for Daniel Boone. Amid these strange scenes he felt as a stranger, and his heart yearned again for the solitudes of the forest. He longed to get beyond the reach of lawyers' offices, and court-houses, and land speculators.

After a short visit he bade adieu forever to his friends upon the Schuykill, and turned his steps again towards the setting sun. His feelings had been too deeply wounded to allow him to think of remaining a man without a home in Kentucky. Still the idea of leaving a region endeared to him by so many memories must have been very painful. He remembered vividly his long and painful journeys over the mountains, through the wilderness untrodden by the foot of the white man; his solitary exploration of the new Eden which he seemed to have found there; the glowing accounts he had carried back to his friends of the sunny skies, the salubrious clime, the fertile soil, and the majesty and loveliness of the landscape; of mountain, valley, lake and river which Providence had lavished with a prodigal hand in this "Garden of the Lord."

One by one he had influenced his friends to emigrate, had led them to their new homes, had protected them against the savages, and now when Kentucky had become a prosperous State in the Union, containing thirty thousand inhabitants, he was cast aside, and under the forms of law was robbed of the few acres which he had cultivated as his own. His life embittered by these reflections, and seeing nothing to attract him in the wild and unknown regions beyond the Mississippi, Colonel Boone turned sadly back to Virginia.

It was an easy task for him to remove. In such an hour, one can sometimes well say, "Blessed be Nothing." A few pack-horses were sufficient to convey all his household goods. It is probable that his wife and children, indignant at the treatment which the husband and father had received, were glad to leave.

This was doubtless one of the saddest journeys that Colonel Boone ever undertook. Traversing an almost pathless wilderness in a direction a little north of east from Boonesborough, he crossed the various speers of the Alleghany range, supporting his family with his rifle on the way, until after passing over three hundred miles of the wilderness, he reached the mouth of the Kanawha river, as that stream flows from Virginia due north, and empties into the Ohio river. Here there was a point of land washed by the Ohio on the north, and the Great Kanawha on the west, to which the appropriate name of Point Pleasant had been given. It does not appear that civilization had as yet penetrated this region. The emigration to Kentucky had floated by it down the river, descending from Pittsburg, or had crossed the mountain passes from North Carolina, several hundred miles to the south.

Colonel Boone was now fifty-five years of age. If there were any settlement at the time at Point Pleasant, it must have consisted merely of a few log huts. Here at all events, Colonel Boone found the solitude and the communion with nature alone, for which his heart yearned. The world might call him poor, and still he was rich in the abundant supply of all his earthly wants. He reared his log hut where no one appeared to dispute his claim. The fertile soil around, a virgin soil, rich with undeveloped treasures, under the simplest culture produced abundantly, and the forest around supplied him daily with animal food more than a European peasant sees in a year.

Here Colonel Boone and his family remained for several years, to use a popular phrase, buried from the world. His life was mainly that of a hunter. Mr. Peck, speaking of the habits of those pioneers who depended mainly upon the rifle for support, writes:

"I have often seen him get up early in the morning, walk hastily out, and look anxiously to the woods and snuff the autumnal winds with the highest rapture; then return into the house and cast a quick and attentive look at the rifle, which was always suspended to a joist by a couple of buck-horns or little forks. The hunting dog understanding the intentions of his master, would wag his tail, and by every blandishment in his power, express his readiness to accompany him to the woods."

It probably did not diminish Colonel Boone's interest in his new home, that it was exposed to all the perils of border life; that his rifle should be ever loaded; that his faithful watch-dog should be stationed at the door, to give warning of any approaching footsteps; and that he and his family should always be ready for a siege or battle. With these precautions, Boone had no more fear of assault from half a dozen vagabond Indians, than he had from so many howling wolves.

The casualties of life had greatly reduced his family. Of his three sons, the eldest had fallen beneath the arrow and the tomahawk of the savages amidst the gloomy defiles of the Alleghany mountains. His second son was killed at the dreadful battle of the Blue Licks, as his agonised father had been compelled to abandon him to the merciless foe. His third son, probably chagrined by the treatment which his father had received from the authorities of Kentucky, had bidden adieu to all the haunts of civilized life, and traversing the wilderness towards the setting sun for many hundred miles, had crossed the Mississippi and sought a home in the wilds of the upper Louisiana, then under the dominion of Spain.