We have written much, but in vain, concerning this extraordinary
being, if the reader requires now to be told, that, untutored as
he was in the learning of the world, and simple as he ever showed
himself to be in all matters touching the subtleties of conventional
taste, he was a man of strong, native, poetical feeling. He loved
the woods for their freshness, their sublime solitudes, their
vastness, and the impress that they everywhere bore of the divine
hand of their creator. He seldom moved through them, without
pausing to dwell on some peculiar beauty that gave him pleasure,
though seldom attempting to investigate the causes; and never did
a day pass without his communing in spirit, and this, too, without
the aid of forms or language, with the infinite source of all he
saw, felt, and beheld. Thus constituted, in a moral sense, and of
a steadiness that no danger could appall, or any crisis disturb,
it is not surprising that the hunter felt a pleasure at looking
on the scene he now beheld, that momentarily caused him to forget
the object of his visit. This will more fully appear when we
describe it.
The canoe lay in front of a natural vista, not only through the
bushes that lined the shore, but of the trees also, that afforded
a clear view of the camp.
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