the coarse, thick, long, prairie grass, and dying leaves, at every point of the compass, {233} and far beyond the foot of civilization, darkening the air, heavens and earth, over the whole extent of the northern and part of the southern continent, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and in neighbourhoods contiguous to the all-devouring conflagration, filling the whole horizon with yellow, palpable, tangible smoke, ashes, and vapour, which affect the eyes of man and beast, and obscure the sun, moon, and stars, for many days, or until the winter rains descend to quench the fire and purge the thick ropy air, which is seen, tasted, handled, and felt.
So much for an Indian summer, which partakes of the vulgar idea of the infernal. Why called Indian? Because these fires seem to have originated with the native tribes, and are now perpetuated by the White Hunters, who by these means start, disturb, and pen up the game, and destroy the dens of both man and beast, and all this with impunity.
To-morrow, through floods and flames, I shall endeavour to make good my desperate way to the retreat of my good friend, John Ingle, in Indiana.
6th.—At nine, a. m. I left Princeton on a horse carrying double, me and my guide, through the wilderness, to my friend John Ingle's, who had sent the said horse and boy twenty-five miles for my accommodation. The little town just quitted, and at which I paid the extravagant price of two {234} dollars a day for board, has nineteen streets, and about one hundred and five houses, one prison, and one meeting-house, or church, all of wood; one supreme judge, and four other judges; and in the unpeopled county are another quorum of judges, and three generals.
