Were never stained with village smoke:
The fragrant wind that through them flies,
As breathed from wastes by plough unbroke.
“Here with myrtle and my steed,
And her who left the world for me,
I plant me where the red deer feed
In the green desert—and am free.”
Early in the morning on the 24th of December, 1798, this pioneer started out with dog and gun in pursuit of Christmas supplies. It was no small game day—a deer, moose, bear, or wild turkey must adorn the bill of fare for the Christmas dinner.
Before the sun had reached the meridian mark in the door-way, he returned loaded down with three turkeys and two grouse. The country made such a favorable impression, as soon as time and chance offered an opportunity, the husband sent a letter to a friend at Redstone, Penn., who had never seen Ohio, in which he recalls this hunt and the first Christmas he enjoyed in this lovely country, and which is here given in his own language:
“After dressing the game and making a present of a turkey and two grouse to a widow and two children across the river, I told Grace (my wife) that the man who got injured by the falling tree must have a turkey, and with her approbation I shouldered a dressed gobbler and delivered the kind remembrances of my wife to the unfortunate.
“When I returned, it was quite dark, but my mind was ill at ease, and I told Grace I thought we had better take the other turkey down to Rev. Dixon as he hunted but seldom, and a bird of the kind would appear quite becoming, in the presence of a large family of small children at a Christmas dinner. These suggestions met with hearty approval, and I started off to walk a half mile or more with a great dressed gobbler in one hand, a gun in the other, and dog in front.
“On arrival I found the latch-string drawn in, but a knock on the door soon caused an opening large enough to admit the procession. The presentation was made with an Irish speech, dilating and describing the virtues of the deceased; and wishing the minister, his Quaker Mission and his family a merry Christmas, I turned my steps homewards.
“On my return, Grace wished to know what I expected for our own dinner;—reminding me of the guests,—Samuel Wilkins and Benjamin James, who were looked for by invitation, I told her I had been thinking while on the way home from Mr. Dixon’s, that Dr. Hamberger and wife up at the ferry were nice folks, and the Dr. had been pretty busy in his ‘clearing’ lately, and that Jack and I would go, early in the morning, up to the beech bottom, and get a turkey for the Doctor, and one for us—I said ‘Won’t we Jack’—and Jack’s assent was at once made known by the wag of his tail.
“Christmas morning, before the breakfast hour, Jack and I returned with two gobblers, and throwing them down at the cabin door I exclaimed ‘they are heavy.’ As I did so ‘a merry Christmas’ from Grace rang out on the bare and frosty forest for the first time ever heard in that vicinity. ‘Oh! the poor birds’ (said Grace), ‘how nicely bronzed they are—who is it that paints those iridescent colors? I never saw a happier pair than you and Jack make.’ I replied, ‘they are beautiful birds, but if I’d had my wits about me, I could have shown the best woman west of the Alleghanies the nicest fat fawn she ever looked at. But I was hunting for turkeys, and did not see it quite soon enough, and let it go without a shot. Never mind,’ I said, ‘I’ll be there in a day or two’—and I was.”