Having obtained at a bookstore a copy of Lloyd’s Map of the Mississippi River, I returned to the tailor’s, where I was greeted in the most kindly manner, and informed that the young lady of the house, the only daughter of my host, had voluntarily left home to visit some city relations, that I might occupy her comfortably furnished room, with the open fireplace, which was now filled with blazing wood, and sending forth a genial glow into the heavily-curtained apartment.  When I protested against this promotion in the social scale, and refused to deprive the young lady of her room, I was informed that she knew “Who was who,” and had insisted upon leaving her room that a gentleman might be properly entertained in it.  From this time my now agreeable host stoutly refused to accept payment in advance for my daily rations, while, with his family and apprentices, he took up his quarters each evening in my new room, relating his experiences during the war, and giving me many original ideas.

It grew warmer, but the ice of the creek in which my boat lay did not melt.  The water was, however, falling, and it became necessary to cut out the sneak-box, and slide her over the ice into the unfrozen Ohio.  My host had become alarmed, and kept an anxious eye upon the boat.  “De peoples knows de poat is here, and some of dem hab told others about it.  If you don’t hide her down de rivver to-night, she will be stolen by de rivver thieves.”  I was thus forced to leave these kind people, who about noon escorted me to the duck-boat, and showered upon me their best wishes for a prosperous voyage.  It was a glorious afternoon, and the sun poured all his wealth of light and cheerfulness upon the valley.

Late in the day I passed the mouth of the Big Miami River.  Indiana was on the right, while Kentucky still skirted the left bank of the river.  The state of Ohio had furnished the Ohio River with a margin for four hundred and seventy-five miles.  The Little Miami River joins the Ohio six miles above Cincinnati; the Big Miami enters it twenty miles below the city.  These streams flow through rich farming regions, but they are not navigable.  After passing the town of Aurora, which is six miles below the Big Miami, I caught sight of the mouth of a creek, whose thickets of trees, in the gloom of the fast approaching night, almost hid from view the outlines of a forlorn-looking shanty-boat.  Clouds of smoke, with the bright glare of the fire, shot out of the rusty stove-pipe in the roof, but I soon discovered that it was the abode of one who attended strictly to his own business, and expected the same behavior from his neighbors.  So, saying good evening to this man of solitary habits, I quickly rowed past his floating hermitage into the darkness of the neighboring swamp.  I soon put my own home in order, ate my supper, and retired, feeling happy in the thought that I should before long reach a climate where my out-door life would not be attended with so many inconveniences.