country, and to give birth to those extravagant romances, which
afterwards became prevalent, as descriptions of Kentucky. Such were
Finley's accounts of it--views which went abroad, and created even in
Europe an impression of a kind of new El Dorado, or rather rural
paradise. Other and very different scenes, in no great length of time,
disenchanted the new paradise, and presented it in the sober traits of
truth.

They were never out of sight of buffaloes, deer, and turkeys. At
night-fall they came in view of Kentucky river, and admired in unsated
astonishment, the precipices three hundred feet high, at the foot of
which, as in a channel cut out of the solid limestone, rolled the dark
waters of the beautiful stream. A lofty eminence was before them.
Thinking it would afford them a far view of the meanderings of the
river, they ascended it. This expectation was realized. A large extent
of country stretched beneath them. Having surveyed it, they proposed to
commence their return to rejoin their companions. As they were leisurely
descending the hill, little dreaming of danger, the Indian yell burst
upon their ears. A numerous party of Indians sprang from the cane-brake,
surrounded, vanquished, and bound them, before they had time to have
recourse to their arms. The Indians proceeded to plunder them of their
rifles, and every thing in their possession but the most indispensable
articles of dress. They then led them off to their camp, where they
confined them in such a manner as effectually to prevent their escape.

Not knowing a word of the speech of their captors, who knew as little of
theirs, they were wholly ignorant of what fate awaited them. The Indians
next day marched them off rapidly towards the north, compelling them to
travel at a rate which was excessively annoying to captives in their
predicament-manacled, in momentary apprehension of death, and plunging