"Spoken like a soldier! It is in your hands. Go then!"
There was one look, one handclasp. The two men parted; nor did they meet again for years.
Mr. Jefferson did not look from his window to see the departure of his young friend, nor did the latter again call at the door to say good-by. Theirs was indeed a warrior-like simplicity.
The sun still was young when Meriwether Lewis at length descended the steps of the Executive Mansion.
He was clad now for his journey, not in buckskin hunting-garb, but with regard for the conventions of a country by no means free of convention. His jacket was of close wool, belted; his boots were high and suitable for riding. His stock, snowy white--for always Meriwether Lewis was immaculate--rose high around his throat, in spite of the hot summer season, and his hands were gloved. He seemed soldier, leader, officer, and gentleman.
No retinue, however, attended him; no servant was at his side. He went afoot, and carried with him his most precious luggage--the long rifle which he never entrusted to any hands save his own. Close wrapped around the stock, on the crook of his arm, and not yet slung over his shoulder, was a soiled buckskin pouch, which went always with the rifle--the "possible sack" of the wilderness hunter of that time. It contained his bullets, bullet-molds, flints, a bar or two of lead, some tinder for priming, a set of awls.
Such was the leader of one of the great expeditions of the world.
Meriwether Lewis had few good-bys to say. He had written but one letter--to his mother--late the previous morning. It was worded thus: The day after tomorrow I shall set out for the Western country. I had calculated on the pleasure of visiting you before I started, but circumstances have rendered it impossible. My absence will probably be equal to fifteen or eighteen months.
The nature of this expedition is by no means dangerous. My route will be altogether through tribes of Indians friendly to the United States, therefore I consider the chances of life just as much in my favor as I should conceive them were I to remain at home. The charge of this expedition is honorable to myself, as it is important to my country.
For its fatigues I feel myself perfectly prepared, nor do I doubt my health and strength of constitution to bear me through it. I go with the most perfect preconviction in my own mind of returning safe, and hope, therefore that you will not suffer yourself to indulge in any anxiety for my safety.
I will write again on my arrival at Pittsburgh. Adieu, and believe me your affectionate son.