es, and substitute happiness
in their room.

Soon after this, my companion in captivity, John Stewart, was killed
by the savages, and the man that came with my brother returned home by
himself. We were then in a dangerous, helpless situation, exposed daily
to perils and death among savages and wild beasts--not a white man in
the country but ourselves.

Thus situated, many hundred miles from our families in the howling
wilderness, I believe few would have equally enjoyed the happiness we
experienced. I often observed to my brother, "You see now how little
nature requires to be satisfied. Felicity, the companion of content,
is rather found in our own breasts than in the enjoyment of external
things; and I firmly believe it requires but a little philosophy to
make a man happy in whatsoever state he is. This consists in a full
resignation to the will of Providence; and a resigned soul finds
pleasure in a path strewed with briers and thorns."

We continued not in a state of indolence, but hunted every day, and
prepared a little cottage to defend us from the winter storms. We
remained there undisturbed during the winter, and on the first day of
May, 1770, my brother returned home to the settlement by himself, for
a new recruit of horses and ammunition, leaving me by myself, without
bread, salt, or sugar, without company of my fellow-creatures, or even
a horse or dog. I confess I never before was under greater necessity of
exercising philosophy and fortitude. A few days I passed uncomfortably.
The idea of a beloved wife and family, and their anxiety upon the
account of my absence and exposed situation, made sensible impressions
on my heart. A thousand dreadful apprehensions presented themselves to
my view, and had undoubtedly disposed me to melancholy, if further
indulged.

One day I undertook a tour through the country, and the diversity and
beauties of nature I met with in this charming season, expelled every
gloomy and vexatious thought. Just at the close of day the gentle gales
retired, and left the place to the disposal of a profound calm. Not
a breeze shook the most tremulous leaf. I had gained the summit of a
commanding ridge, and, looking round with astonishing delight, beheld
the ample plains, the beauteous tracts below. On the other hand, I
surveyed the famous river Ohio, that rolled in silent dignity, marking
the western boundary of Kentucky with inconceivable grandeur. At a
vast distance I beheld the mountains