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The Vault at PfaffsAn Archive of Art and Literature by the Bohemians of Antebellum New York
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Text for Page 155 [10-04-1853]

              affected, is a mighty hunter, and is on his way to New Orleans to en-
ter on commercial life there.      Keene Richards is also Kentuckian born,
and with the commencement of next year will be placed in possession, by
a grandfather, of 1000 acres or so, of Louisiana plantation, slaves &c.
With these three then I set out on the morrow for a journey which I shall
hardly fail to remember.
  5  Wednesday.   There was great stir and bustle outside the Cave
Hotel on the sunny October morning, in preparing for departure.  The horses 
had 
to be judiciously packed, and all sorts of matters done.  Mr Millers bill (a
very moderate one) discharged, niggers fee�d with a $ or two, I after witnessing
carpet-bag & Indian pipe stem slung on one side of a big grey-mare, (hereafter
to become well acquainted with me,) got astride of a little pacing pay; which,
in consideration of my being no Centaur had been assigned to me.   After
explicit directions touching our first days journey from Mr Miller, (to be di-
verged from within ten minutes) off we start; my three companions leading
the supernumerary five mares.      Striking off into a forest path, the first thing
we did was to get out of the right way, which fact was intimated by our summary
arrival at a gate, zig zag fence, and field.   Backwards turning, we tried
another wrong path, and then, having exhausted the false roads, found the true.
The day was a lovely one, the winding, lonely road, now deep descending its
vale and declivity, now skirting sloping hill or steep mountain side; all
forest covered on every side.      Ash, hickory, and some oak trees, not of
any great altitude or bulk, were the staple growth of the forest.   But the
exquisite colours of the autumnal tinted leaves, purple, red, orange, every
variety of yellow; and pre-eminent ever the luxuriant ruby red, or blacken-
ing sumach leaves.  All this wild loveliness the hot sun shed glory upon.
We travelled slowly, for a long journey was before us, and there was a current
superstition the the mares were with foal; so twenty or twenty five miles was to
be the average of a days journey.     Reaching a main road, at an hour, or               
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