It was near the close of a mild, beautiful day, in the autumn of 1781, that a young man, some twenty-two years of age, emerged from a wood into an open space or clearing, at a distance of perhaps fifteen miles eastward from Lexington.  The general appearance of this individual betokened the hunter, but at the same time one who followed it for pleasure, rather than as a means of support.  This was evident from his dress, which although somewhat characteristic of the time, was much superior to that generally worn by the woodsman.  He had on a woolen hunting frock, of fine texture, of a dark green color, that came a few inches below the hips.  Beneath this, and fitting closely around his shoulders, neck and breast, was a scarlet jacket, ornamented with two rows of round, white metal buttons.  A large cape, with a deep red fringe, of about inch in width, was attached to the frock, and extended from the shoulders nearly to the elbow.  Around the waist, outside the frock, passed a dark leather belt, in which were confined a brace of handsome pistols, and a long silver-hilted hunting knife.  Breeches of cloth, like the frock, were connected with leggins of tanned deer skin, which in turn extended over, and partly concealed, heavy cow-hide boots.  A neatly made cap of deer skin, with the hair outside, surmounted a finely shaped head.  His features, though somewhat pale and haggard, as if from recent grief or trouble, were mostly of the Grecian cast.  He had a high, noble forehead; a large, clear, fascinating gray eye; a well formed mouth, and a prominent chin.  In height he was about five feet and ten inches, broad shouldered, straight, heavy set, with handsome proportions.

Upon the shoulder of the young man, as he emerged from the wood, rested an elegant rifle; which, after advancing a short distance, he brought into a trailing position; and then pausing, he dropped the breech upon the ground, placed his hands over the muzzle, and, carelessly leaning his chin upon them, swept with his eye the surrounding country, to which he was evidently a stranger.

The day had been one of those mild and smoky ones, peculiar to the climate and season; and the sun, large and red, was near to sinking behind the far western ridge, giving a beautiful crimson, mellow tinge to each object which came beneath his rays.  The landscape, over which the stranger gazed, was by no means unpleasing.  His position was on an eminence, overlooking a fertile valley, partly cleared, and partly shaded by woods, through which wound a crystal stream, whose gentle murmurs could be heard even where he stood.  Beyond this stream, the ground, in pleasing undulations, took a gentle rise, to a goodly height, and was covered by what is termed an open wood—­a wood peculiar to Kentucky at this period—­consisting of trees in the regularity of an orchard, at some distance apart, devoid of underbrush, beneath which the earth was beautifully carpeted with a rank growth of clover,