The Ohio is a wonderful river. Its utility, and beauty are highly conspicuous. Its banks, where not cultivated, are covered with a thick growth of trees, and bushes, which, bending over the water, yield a prospect at once serene and rich. Some of the banks, especially on the upper parts of the river, are covered with lofty forests of sycamores.
The fish in this river are of various kinds; among which is the cat-fish, weighing from five to one hundred pounds. The fish in the western waters are generally very fat.
Whilst on the Ohio, and near the mouth of the Cumberland, I witnessed a deer hunt, if it may so {189} be called, which excited no little sensibility. Several keels were passing silently down the current. It was noon-day, and the river was full, expansive, and calm. The men on board of the boats espied, a mile ahead, several deer swimming across the river. One of the deer had proceeded nearly half way across, when the skiffs belonging to two of the keels were manned, and went in pursuit of him. Each skiff contained two oars-men, and one in the bows with a boat hook. The rival skiffs ploughed through the silver stream. The deer retreated towards the wood; but one of the boats outsped him. He was now between two enemies. The scene was interesting: I almost prayed for his rescue. For twenty minutes the fate of this guileless animal was doubtful. The calm which prevailed seemed to listen to the dashing oar, the successless blow, and the almost breathless efforts of the poor deer. At length all was silent; the boats were on their return;—no deer was seen in the river. The tired, yet sprightly oar, told the tale of death; and nature, for a moment, seemed to darken on the scene.
The deer was a buck, two years old, remarkably large, and elegantly proportioned. When I beheld this bleeding victim, and heard the boatmen's song of triumph, my
