Daniel Boone: The Pioneer of Kentucky
attractive and a happy home. The climate was delightful, the soil
fertile, supplying him, with but little culture, with an ample supply of
corn, and the most nutritious vegetables. Before his door rolled the
broad expanse of the Delaware, abounding with fish of delicious flavor.
His boys with hook and line could at any time, in a few moments, supply
the table with a nice repast. With the unerring rifle, they could
always procure game in great variety and abundance.
The Indians, won by the humanity of William Penn, were friendly, and
their occasional visits to the cabin contributed to the enjoyment of its
inmates. On the whole a more favored lot in life could not well be
imagined. There was unquestionably far more happiness in this log cabin
of the settler, on the silent waters of the Delaware, than could be
found in any of the castles or palaces of England, France, or Spain.
George Boone had one son on whom he conferred the singular name of
Squire. His son married a young woman in the neighborhood by the name of
Sarah Morgan, and surrounded by his brothers and sisters, he raised his
humble home in the beautiful township which his father had purchased.
Before leaving England the family, religiously inclined, had accepted
the Episcopal form of Christian worship. But in the New World, far
removed from the institutions of the Gospel, and allured by the noble
character and influence of William Penn, they enrolled themselves in the
Society of Friends. In the record of the monthly meetings of this
society, we find it stated that George Boone was received to its
communion on the thirty-first day of tenth month, in the year 1717. It
is also recorded that his son Squire Boone was married to Sarah Morgan,
on the twenty-third day of seventh month, 1720. The records of the
meetings also show the number of their children, and the periods of
their birth.
By this it appears that their son Daniel, the subject of this memoir,
was born on the twenty-second day of eighth month, 1734. It seems that
Squire Boone became involved in difficulties with the Society of
Friends, for allowing one of his sons to marry out of meeting. He was
therefore disowned, and perhaps on this account, he subsequently removed
his residence to North Carolina, as we shall hereafter show. His son
Daniel, from earliest childhood, developed a peculiar and remarkably
interesting character. He was silent, thoughtful, of pensive
temperament, yet far from gloomy, never elated, never depressed. He
exhibited from his earliest years such an insensibility to danger, as to
attract the attention of all who knew him. Though affectionate and
genial in disposition, never morose or moody, he still loved solitude,
and seemed never so happy as when entirely alone. His father remained in
his home upon the Delaware until Daniel was about ten years of age.
Various stories are related of his adventures in these his early years,
which may or may not be entirely authentic. It makes but little
difference. These anecdotes if only founded on facts, show at least the
estimation in which he was regarded, and the impression which his
character produced in these days of childhood. Before he was ten years
old he would take his rifle and plunge boldly into the depths of the
illimitable forest. He seemed, by instinct, possessed of the skill of
the most experienced hunter, so that he never became bewildered, or in
danger of being lost. There were panthers, bears and wolves in those
forests, but of them he seemed not to have the slightest fear. His skill
as a marksman became quite unerring. Not only raccoons, squirrels,
partridges and other such small game were the result of his hunting
expeditions, but occasionally even the fierce panther fell before his
rifle ball. From such frequent expeditions he would return silent and
tranquil, with never a word of boasting in view of exploits of which a
veteran hunter might be proud.
Indeed his love of solitude was so great, that he reared for himself a
little cabin in the wilderness, three miles back from the settlement.
Here he would go all alone without even a dog for companion, his trusty
rifle his only protection. At his camp-fire, on the point of his ramrod,
he would cook the game which he obtained in abundance, and upon his bed
of leaves would sleep in sweetest enjoyment, lulled by the wind through
the tree-tops, and by the cry of the night bird and of the wild beasts
roaming around. In subsequent life, he occasionally spoke of these hours
as seasons of unspeakable joy.
The education of young Boone was necessarily very defective. There were
no schools then established in those remote districts of log cabins. But
it so happened that an Irishman of some little education strolled into
that neighborhood, and Squire Boone engaged him to teach, for a few
months, his children and those of some others of the adjacent settlers.
These hardy emigrants met with their axes in a central point in the
wilderness, and in a few hours constructed a rude hut of logs for a
school-house. Here young Boone was taught to read, and perhaps to write.
This was about all the education he ever received. Probably the
confinement of the school-room was to him unendurable. The forest was
his congenial home, hunting the business of his life.
Though thus uninstructed in the learning of books, there were other
parts of practical education, of infinitely more importance to him, in
which he became an adept. His native strength of mind, keen habits of
observation, and imperturbable tranquility under whatever perils or
reverses, gave him skill in the life upon which he was to enter, which
the teachings of books alone could not confer. No marksman could surpass
him in the dexterity with which with his bullet he would strike the head
of a nail, at the distance of many yards. No Indian hunter or warrior
could with more sagacity trace his steps through the pathless forest,
detect the footsteps of a retreating foe, or search out the hiding place
of the panther or the bear. In these hunting excursions the youthful
frame of Daniel became inured to privation, hardship, endurance. Taught
to rely upon his own resources, he knew not what it was to be lonely,
for an hour. In the darkest night and in the remotest wilderness, when
the storm raged most fiercely, although but a child he felt peaceful,
happy, and entirely at home.
About the year 1748 (the date is somewhat uncertain), Squire Boone, with
his family, emigrated seven hundred miles farther south and west to a
place called Holman's Ford on the Yadkin river, in North Carolina. The
Yadkin is a small stream in the north-west part of the State. A hundred
years ago this was indeed a howling wilderness. It is difficult to
imagine what could have induced the father of a family to abandon the
comparatively safe and prosperous settlements on the banks of the
Delaware, to plunge into the wilderness of these pathless solitudes,
several hundred miles from the Atlantic coast. Daniel was then about
sixteen years of age.
Of the incidents of their long journey through the wood--on foot, with
possibly a few pack horses, for there were no wagon-roads whatever--we
have no record. The journey must probably have occupied several weeks,
occasionally cheered by sunshine, and again drenched by storms. There
were nine children in the family. At the close of the weary pilgrimage
of a day, through such narrow trails as that which the Indian or the
buffalo had made through the forest, or over the prairies, they were
compelled to build a cabin at night, with logs and the bark of trees to
shelter them from the wind and rain, and at the camp-fire to cook the
game which they had shot during the day. We can imagine that this
journey must have been a season of unspeakable delight to Daniel Boone.
Alike at home with the rifle and the hatchet, never for a moment
bewildered, or losing his self-possession, he could, even unaided, at
any hour, rear a sheltering hut for his mother and his sisters, before
which the camp-fire would blaze cheerily, and their hunger would be
appeased by the choicest viands from the game which his rifle had
procured.
The spirit of adventure is so strong in most human hearts which
luxurious indulgence has not enervated, that it is not improbable that
this family enjoyed far more in this romantic excursion through an
unexplored wilderness, than those now enjoy who in a few hours traverse
the same distance in the smooth rolling rail-cars. Indeed fancy can
paint many scenes of picturesque beauty which we know that the reality
must have surpassed.
It is the close of a lovely day. A gentle breeze sweeps through the
tree-tops from the north-west. The trail through the day has led along
the banks of a crystal mountain stream, sparkling with trout. The path
is smooth for the moccasined feet. The limbs, inured to action,
experienced no weariness. The axes of the father and the sons speedily
construct a camp, open to the south and perfectly sheltered on the roof
and on the sides by the bark of trees. The busy fingers of the daughters
have in the meantime spread over the floor a soft and fragrant carpet of
evergreen twigs. The mother is preparing supper, of trout from the
stream, and the fattest of wild turkeys or partridges, or tender cuts of
venison, which the rifles of her husband or sons have procured.
Voracious appetites render the repast far more palatable than the
choicest viands which were ever spread in the banqueting halls of
Versailles or Windsor. Water-fowl of gorgeous plumage sport in the
stream, unintimidated by the approach of man. The plaintive songs of
forest-birds float in the evening air. On the opposite side of the
stream, herds of deer and buffalo crop the rich herbage of the prairie,
which extends far away, till it is lost in the horizon of the south.
Daniel retires from the converse of the cabin to an adjoining eminence,
where silently and rapturously he gazes upon the scene of loveliness
spread out before him.
Such incidents must often have occurred. Even in the dark and
tempestuous night, with the storm surging through the tree tops, and the
rain descending in floods, in their sheltered camp, illumined by the
flames of their night fire, souls capable of appreciating the sublimity
of such scenes must have experienced exquisite delight. It is pleasant
to reflect, that the poor man in his humble cabin may often be the
recipient of much more happiness than the lord finds in his castle, or
the king in his palace.
No details are given respecting the arrival of this family on the banks
of the Yadkin, or of their habits of life while there. We simply know
that they were far away in the untrodden wilderness, in the remotest
frontiers of civilization. Bands of Indians were roving around them, but
even if hostile, so long as they had only bows and arrows, the settler
in his log-hut, which was a fortress, and with his death-dealing rifle,
was comparatively safe.
Here the family dwelt for several years, probably in the enjoyment of
abundance, and with ever-increasing comforts. The virgin soil, even
poorly tilled, furnished them with the corn and the vegetables they
required, while the forests supplied the table with game. Thus the
family, occupying the double position of the farmer and the hunter,
lived in the enjoyment of all the luxuries which both of those callings
could afford. Here Daniel Boone grew up to manhood. His love of solitude
and of nature led him on long hunting excursions, from which he often
returned laden with furs. The silence of the wilderness he brought back
with him to his home. And though his placid features ever bore a smile,
he had but few words to interchange with neighbors or friends. He was a
man of affectionate, but not of passionate nature. It would seem that