It is not the purpose of this history to follow the failures or the successes of the French and Indian war. While it had its effect upon Kentucky, there were other events of the same era that bore more particularly upon the destiny of the territory which was later to be known as Kentucky. In 1763 the Peace of Paris ended the tremendous contests between England and France for the possession of Canada and the Ohio valley, with the result that the cross of St. George waved over the hitherto disputed territory undisturbed and with none to dispute the sovereignty of England.

During the pendency of the war but little had been done in the matter of exploration in Kentucky and there are no absolutely accurate data covering that period. In the midst of wars the laws are silent and it seems to be true of this period that exploration ceased, though there are apochryphal claims made of certain expeditions of which no conclusive records have been found. It is probably true that adventurous parties came and went in those perilous days, as no sense of danger has ever been strong enough to destroy in the Anglo-Saxon his desire to spy out the land and appropriate to himself that part of it which, to him, seemed good. But that this was done is mere harmless conjecture. There is no record of the doings of the fearless adventurer in those days.

At the close of the war in 1763, King George the Third, whom the American col

onies were to more intimately know and detest a short twelve years later, issued a proclamation which had it not been ignored in large part, would have left Kentucky for years as the mere hunting ground of the savage, and closed its teeming fields and forests to the enterprise of the sturdy pioneers, who daring all dangers, had taken their lives in their hands and pressed forward into the wilderness to make homes for themselves and theirs, and to make straight the ways for those who were to come later into the new land which so generously invited them.

King George, in this proclamation, declared that the British possessions west of the Allegheny mountains and south of Canada should be set apart as an Indian reservation, into which white settlers should not enter. The line of demarcation between the white and Indian territories was ordered marked, the commissioners for this work being Sir William Johnson, agent for the northern district, and John Stuart, for the southern colonies. This Sir William Johnson was later to become an important factor in the affairs of the Mohawk Valley and to play a great and dangerous part with the Indians, in the War of the Revolution, then but a few short years removed in point of time. But Kentucky owes a debt to Sir William Johnson, despite his future actions in favor of the British crown. McElroy says of his action in running this line: "Johnson, deliberately neglecting his instructions, ran his part of the line down the

and to this fact it is due, in no small degree, that she became the pioneer colony of the West; for in the valley of the Yadkin, in North Carolina, the prince of pioneers was waiting to head the host who were waiting to invade the 'Dark and Bloody Ground' and to make it an inhabited land."

Daniel Boone now appears on the great canvass upon which is depicted the early struggles which made Kentucky a bright jewel in the crown of the states which form the American Union. There had been, as has been shown, adventurous spirits who came into Kentucky before Boone, some of whom were later to join him in the conquest of the land

song and story of the new land none may take. Kentucky and Daniel Boone are synonymous terms in history, though he left the new land early in its history for Virginia and later, finding his holdings too much encroached upon there, with the spirit of the true pioneer, he journeyed to the westward in search of elbow room, and finally laid down the burden of his years in Missouri. Later Kentucky, mindful of its debt to the brave old pioneer, brought back his remains and those of his patient old wife and side by side they sleep in the State Cemetery at Frankfort, an appropriate and modest monument marking their last resting place.

Daniel Boone appears to have been born very numerously and over a large stretch of territory. As a matter of fact, his exact birthplace and the date of his birth cannot be definitely stated. Those who wrote nearest to the era in which he flourished and who would therefore be supposed to be most correct in their statements, differ widely as to time and place. Bogart says he was born Feb. 11, 1735; Collins, Feb. 11, 1731; Marshall, about 1746; McClung says he was born in Virginia; Marshall says in Maryland, while Nile goes far away from all these and declares that Daniel Boone was born in Bridgeworth, Somersetshire, England—a statement which, if made in his presence, would doubtless have brought a frown to the face of the grim old pioneer. Peck says Boone was born in Bucks county, Pennsylvania, and this is commonly accepted as correct, though upon what facts the hypothesis is founded is not stated. Bogart says: "Near Bristol, on the right bank of the Delaware about twenty miles from Philadelphia." While it would be interesting to know the exact date and place of his birth, it is yet sufficient to know of the brave deeds of his after life and the splendid part which he played in freeing Kentucky of the savage and opening to civilization and freedom one of the fairest spots upon the western hemisphere.

It is definitely known that Boone's father, wherever may have been his former home, removed to North Carolina settling in a valley south of the Yadkin river, where it is presumed that the young Boone grew to manhood. It is also fair to assume from his subsequent career that Daniel was not to be depended upon as a farmer, and was no great help to his father or family in the care of the crops upon which, and the results of the chase, their subsistence depended. A party of hunters from Boone's vicinity who had penetrated the then unknown wilds of Kentucky, returned with such thrilling stories of their experiences that the fires of the pioneer were lighted in

Boone's breast, which were destined never to burn out until he laid down the burden of life in the wilds of Missouri.

Filson in his own language, far different from that of the pioneer, says that Boone gave to him in his old age this account of his first coming to Kentucky:

"It was the first of May, 1769, that I resigned my domestic happiness for a time and left my family and peaceable habitation on the Yadkin River, in North Carolina, to wander through the wilderness of North America in quest of the country of Kentucky."

Colonel Durrett, that inimitable student of history, remarks on this with a sort of grim humor "that for a pretended farmer to start to the wilderness on a hunting expedition just at corn-planting season, is a suspicious circumstance, and leads one to suppose that Daniel was not overfond of the hoe." This is probably true. Daniel Boone's place in history is that of a pioneer, a hunter and a fighter in all of which stations he played his manly part. It was well for Kentucky and its early settlers that Daniel Boone was not fond of the farm.

Boone's party on this, his first expedition into Kentucky, consisted with himself, of John Findlay, who had been one of the hunting party whose wondrous stories had fired Boone's imagination; John Stewart, Joseph Holden, James Mooney and William Cool. They had a desire far beyond that of the delights of the chase, for they were unconsciously following the manifest destiny of the race from which they sprang and were searching out a fair land which they might possess

and claim as their own.

Peck, in his biography of Boone, thus from a fervent imagination describes him at the head of his little band of adventurers: "The leader of the party was of full size with a hardy, robust, sinewy frame, and keen, piercing hazel eyes that glanced with quickness at every object as they passed on; now cast forward in

Throughout the summer and into the fall, the little party loitered in the fairy land, now hunting, now "loafing and inviting their souls," leaving to those whom they had left behind in North Carolina the less congenial and burdensome task of planting, hoeing and reaping the crops. They were care-free, game was abundant, their wants were few and easily supplied; they were free to go and come as they chose and so far, there had been none to disturb or make them afraid.

At last came the day of separation and, for wider exploration and convenience in hunting, Boone and John Stewart left the main party and proceeded to the Louisa river. Here John Filson takes up the story in the biography of Boone and himself grows poetical though one would think that recitals of the grim events of Kentucky's early days had but little of poetry about them. Filson makes Boone say: "We practiced hunting with great success until the twenty-second day of December. This day John Stewart and I had a pleasing ramble, but fortune changed the scene in the close of it. We had passed through a great forest on which stood myriads of trees, some gay with blossoms, others rich with fruit. Nature was here a series of wonders and a fund of delight. Here she displayed her ingenuity and industry in a variety of flowers and fruits, beautifully colored, elegantly shaped and charmingly flavored; and we were diverted

with innumerable animals presenting themselves perpetually to our view."

Fancy Daniel Boone of the Yadkin river, in North Carolina-sometime hunter, trapper, surveyor and Indian fighter-rhapsodizing after that fashion. It is evident that Filson was something of a poet himself and that he adorned the plain language of Boone out of the exuberance of his own fancy.

But there was to be a quick transition from the beauties of nature as exemplified in Kentucky, to the sterner realities which filled the lives of the pioneers of the state. Filson, quitting his study of the flora and fruits of the forests of Kentucky by a sharp transition, brings one to a realization of the sterner features of life in those same forests. In the following statement he has Boone saying: “In a decline of a day near the Kentucky river, as we ascended the brow of a small hill, a number of Indians rushed out of a thick canebrake upon us and made us prisoners. The time of our sorrow had now arrived and the scene was fully opened. The Indians plundered us of what we had and kept us in confinement seven days, treating us with common savage usage. At last, in the dead of night as we lay in a thick canebrake by a large fire, when sleep had locked up their senses, my situation not disposing me for rest," says Boone, "I touched my companion and gently awoke him. We improved this favorable opportunity and departed, leaving them to take their rest."