He had at first joined the English legion in Spain, in which he had advanced to the rank of captain; he soon got tired of that service and went to Persia, where he entered into the Shah’s employ as an officer of artillery.  This after some time not suiting his fancy, he returned to England, and decided upon visiting Texas, and establishing himself as a merchant at San Antonio.  But his taste for a wandering life would not allow him to remain quiet for any length of time, and having one day fallen in with an English naturalist, who had come out on purpose to visit the north-west prairies of Texas, he resolved to accompany him.

Always ready for any adventure, Fitz. rushed madly among the buffaloes.  He was mounted upon a wild horse of the small breed, loaded with saddlebags, water calabashes, tin and coffee-cups, blankets, &c.; but these encumbrances did not stop him in the least.  With his bridle fastened to the pommel of his saddle and a pistol in each hand, he shot to the right and left, stopping now and then to reload and then starting anew.  During the hunt he lost his hat, his saddlebags, with linen and money, and his blankets:  as he never took the trouble to pick them up, they are probably yet in the prairie where they were dropped.

The other stranger was an English savant, one of the queerest fellows in the world.  He wished also to take his share in the buffalo-hunt, but his steed was a lazy and peaceable animal, a true nag for a fat abbot, having a horror of anything like trotting or galloping; and as he was not to be persuaded out of his slow walk, he and his master remained at a respectable distance from the scene of action.  What an excellent caricature might have been made of that good-humoured savant, as he sat on his Rosinante, armed with an enormous doubled-barrelled gun, loaded but not primed, some time, to no purpose, spurring the self-willed animal, and then spying through an opera-glass at the majestic animals which he could not approach.

We killed nine bulls and seven fat calves, and in the evening we encamped near a little river, where we made an exquisite supper of marrow and tongue, two good things, which can only be enjoyed in the wild prairies.  The next day, at sunset, we received a visit from an immense herd of mustangs (wild horses).  We saw them at first ascending one of the swells of the prairie, and took them for hostile Indians; but having satisfied their curiosity, the whole herd wheeled round with as much regularity as a well-drilled squadron, and with their tails erect and long manes floating to the wind, were soon out of sight.

Many strange stories have been related by trappers and hunters, of a solitary white horse which has often been met with near the Cross Timbers and the Red River.  No one ever saw him trotting or galloping; he only racks, but with such rapidity that no steed can follow him.  Immense sums of money have been offered to any who could catch him, and many have attempted the task, but without success.  The noble animal still runs free in his native prairies, always alone and unapproachable.