was young when Meriwether Lewis at length descended the
steps of the Executive Mansion.

He was clad now for his journey, not in buckskin hunting-garb, but
with regard for the conventions of a country by no means free of
convention. His jacket was of close wool, belted; his boots were high
and suitable for riding. His stock, snowy white--for always Meriwether
Lewis was immaculate--rose high around his throat, in spite of the hot
summer season, and his hands were gloved. He seemed soldier, leader,
officer, and gentleman.

No retinue, however, attended him; no servant was at his side. He went
afoot, and carried with him his most precious luggage--the long rifle
which he never entrusted to any hands save his own. Close wrapped
around the stock, on the crook of his arm, and not yet slung over his
shoulder, was a soiled buckskin pouch, which went always with the
rifle--the "possible sack" of the wilderness hunter of that time. It
contained his bullets, bullet-molds, flints, a bar or two of lead,
some tinder for priming, a set of awls.

Such was the leader of one of the great expeditions of the world.

Meriwether Lewis had few good-bys to say. He had written but one
letter--to his mother--late the previous morning. It was worded thus:

The day after tomorrow I shall set out for the Western
country. I had calculated on the pleasure of visiting you
before I started, but circumstances have rendered it
impossible. My absence will probably be equal to fifteen or
eighteen months.

The nature of this expedition is by no means dangerous. My
route will be altogether through tribes of Indians friendly
to the United States, therefore I consider the chances of
life just as much in my favor as I should conceive them were
I to remain at home. The charge of this expedition is
honorable to myself, as it is important to my country.

For its fatigues I feel myself perfectly prepared, nor do I
doubt my health and strength of constitution to bear me
through it. I go with the most perfect preconviction in my
own mind of returning safe, and hope, therefore that you
will not suffer yourself to indulge in any anxiety for my
safety.

I will write again on my arrival at Pittsburgh. Adieu, and
believe me your affectionate son.

No regrets, no weak reflections for this man with a warrior's weapon
on his arm--where no other burden might lie in all h