I was disturbed several times in the night by the squabbling of the Israelites about the best place in their common bed. On waking up at early dawn I saw that the birds were flown. When I descended to my host, the two large packs and the two Jews had disappeared; on my inquiring after them, he told me that they had started before daylight with as little noise as possible. I laughed heartily, and told him the whole history, which tickled him amazingly.
The road from this house was at first pretty good, but it rained hard. When I came to the flat country in the neighborhood of Vincennes it was full of pools, and on arriving on the prairie, about a mile from that town, the whole space between it and me was one sheet of water. Night coming on, it would have been impossible for me to find my way but for occasional lights in the town, towards which I directed my steps, sometimes over my knees in water, and arrived about seven o’clock in Vincennes, which had not much to boast of as to dryness. The night was dark as pitch, as I groped my way along the unlighted streets in search of quarters. A pair of lonely oxen standing in the street looked at me pathetically, and lowed as I passed close by them. A short distance from them I found the house I wanted: it belonged to a Pennsylvanian German, who kept a tavern. I was soon in front of a warm refreshing fire, which, in my present condition, was what I stood most in need of. As soon as I was well warmed, I took a survey of the neighborhood. Around me was a set of regular conventional faces, with American indifference stamped on the countenances of all the company, who, having finished their meal, were sitting round the fire, rocking in their chairs, and picking their teeth. But amongst them I perceived fixed upon me the glances of a pair of real German looking eyes. I addressed their owner, and found that I had not been mistaken; he was a German smith and mason, and a very well educated man for his station. We sat talking together by the fire till late in the night. In the heat of conversation, he repeated some of his own poetry, which I listened to patiently, in return for his kind attempts to amuse me. He had been a long time in America, and had suffered much, without gaining much experience, being one of those good-natured souls, who are unwilling to take advantage of others, though often imposed upon themselves.