Free The Audubon Reader by John James Audubon

surface of the water. The squaws tanned the deerskins, stretched those of the raccoons and otters and made baskets of canes. [John Pope] played tolerably on the violin; I had a flute, and our music found pleased hearers, whilst our men danced to the tunes and squaws laughed heartily at our merriment. The Indian hunters formed the outer ring of our auditory, smoking their tomahawk pipes with a degree of composure which no white man ever displayed at such merry-makings.
    While our time went pleasantly enough, a sudden and startling catastrophe threatened us without warning. The ice began to break,and our boat was in instant danger of being cut to pieces by the ice floes or swamped by their pressure. Roused from our sleep, we rushed down pell-mell to the bank as if attacked by savages and discovered the ice was breaking up rapidly. It split with reports like those of heavy artillery; and as the water had suddenly risen from an overflow of the Ohio, the two streams seemed to rush against each other with violence, in consequence of which the congealed mass was broken into large fragments, some of which rose nearly erect here and there and again fell with thundering crash, as the wounded whale, when in the agonies of death, springs up with furious force and again plunges into the foaming waters. To our surprise, the weather, which in the evening had been calm and frosty, had become wet and blowy. The water gushed from the fissures formed in the ice, and the prospect was extremely dismal. When day dawned, a spectacle strange and fearful presented itself: the whole mass of water was violently agitated; its covering was broken into small fragments, and although not a foot of space was without ice, not a step could the most daring have ventured to make upon it. Our boat was in imminent danger, for the trees which had been placed to guard it from the ice were cut or broken into pieces and were thrust against her. It was impossible to move her; but our pilot ordered every man to bring down great bunches of cane, which were lashed along her sides, and before these were destroyed by the ice, she was afloat and riding above it. While we were gazing on the scene, a tremendous crash was heard, which seemed to have taken place about a mile below, when suddenly the great dam of ice gave way. The current of the Mississippi had forced its way against that of the Ohio, and in less than four hours we witnessed the complete breaking up of the ice.
    At last our patron said that this was the time to depart forCape Girardeau. All was bustle—the cargo was once more put on board—our camp was abandoned and the Indians and we parted like brethren …
    The little village of Cape Girardeau contained nothing remarkable or interesting except Mr. Lorimier, the father of our patron, who was indeed an original and the representative of a class of men now fast disappearing from the face of the earth. His portrait is so striking and well worth preserving that I shall attempt to draw it.
    Imagine a man not exceeding four feet six inches in height, and thin in proportion, looking as if he had just been shot out of a popgun. He had a spare, meager countenance in which his nose formed decidedly the most prominent feature. It was a true
nez à la Grand Frederic
—a tremendous promontory full three inches in length—hooked like a hawk’s beak and garnished with a pair of eyes resembling those of an eagle. His hair was plastered close to his head with a quantity of pomatum; and behind he wore a long queue rolled up in a dirty ribbon which hung down below his waist. The upper part of his dress was European, and had evidently once been made of the richest materials; and though now woefully patched and dilapidated, you might still observe here and there shreds of gold and silver lace adhering to the worn apparel. His waistcoat, of a fashion as antique as that of his nose, had immense flaps or pockets that covered more than one-half of his lower garments. These latter