"For raising volunteers for the reduction of the Spanish posts on the
Mississippi, for opening the trade of the said river and giving freedom
to all its inhabitants--"

I had got so far when I heard a noise of footsteps within, and Mr.
Easton himself came out, in his shirt-sleeves.

"By cricky, Davy," said he, "I'm right glad ter see ye ag'in. Readin'
the General's bill, are ye? Tarnation, I reckon Washington and all his
European fellers east of the mountains won't be able ter hold us back
this time. I reckon we'll gallop over Louisiany in the face of all
the Spaniards ever created. I've got some new whiskey I 'low will sink
tallow. Come in, Davy."

As he took me by the arm, a laughter and shouting came from the back
room.

"It's some of them Frenchy fellers come over from Knob Licks. They're
in it," and he pointed his thumb over his shoulder to the proclamation,
"and thar's one young American among 'em who's a t'arer. Come in."

I drank a glass of Mr. Easton's whiskey, and asked about the General.

"He stays over thar to Clarksville pretty much," said Mr. Easton. "Thar
ain't quite so much walkin' araound ter do," he added significantly.

I made my way down to the water-side, where Jake Landrasse sat alone on
the gunwale of a Kentucky boat, smoking a clay pipe as he fished. I
had to exercise persuasion to induce Jake to paddle me across, which
he finally agreed to do on the score of old friendship, and he declared
that the only reason he was not at the barbecue was because he was
waiting to take a few gentlemen to see General Clark. I agreed to pay
the damages if he were late in returning for these gentlemen, and soon
he was shooting me with pulsing strokes across the lake-like expanse
towards the landing at Fort Finney. Louisville and the fort were just
above the head of the Falls, and the little town of Clarksville, which
Clark had founded, at the foot of them. I landed, took the road that led
parallel with the river through the tender green of the woods, and as
I walked the mighty song which the Falls had sung for ages to the
Wilderness rose higher and higher, and the faint spray seemed to be
wafted through the forest and to hang in the air like the odor of a
summer rain.

It was May-day. The sweet, caressing note of the thrush mingled with the
music of the water, the dogwood and the wild plum were in festal array;
but my heart was heavy with thinking of a great man who had cheapened
himself. At length I