As the packet was likely to be detained for some hours at Zoar, a settlement about two miles beyond Bolivar, owing to a dispute between the captain and some officers connected with the canal, I availed myself of the opportunity, on the invitation of a very gentlemanly fellow-passenger from Connecticut, to visit a farm a few miles in the interior, where resided a celebrated character, named Adam Poe, surnamed by the inhabitants, the "Indian-killer," who had acquired the summit of a backwoods-man's fame, by some forty years ago shooting "Black-foot," a formidable Indian marauder, who, for a long period, spread consternation and alarm among the early settlers. As this exploit (whether justified by the circumstances and times or not, I cannot pretend to say) was one that restored security among the settlers, and dispersed a body of Indians, who destroyed every white inhabitant they encountered, and laid waste their farms, it is no wonder that Adam Poe was regarded as a great man. On arriving at the farm-house, which was one of the better description in that region, we were kindly welcomed by the son of the hero I have mentioned, who bore the father's patronymic, and after the usual hospitality, were ushered into an adjoining apartment, and introduced to the object of our visit. He was sitting in an armchair by the side of his wife, who, like himself, was far advanced in years, their united ages numbering 173. The old man, who was so feeble as to be unable to rise when we entered, saluted us with the usual "Glad to see you, strangers," his spouse at the same time advancing towards us to shake hands. He was evidently used to such intrusions; for, after inquiry where we came from and whither bound, he began, in a tremulous voice, which, from his extreme age, was scarcely intelligible, to narrate his early adventures. It was absolutely shocking, as he became more animated by the subject, to hear the coolness with which the veteran related some of his bloody combats; so much so, indeed, that I and my companion at once cut short his narration, being horrified at the turpitude of the aged sinner, who, although gasping for breath, and evidently on the verge of the unseen world, talked of his deeds of violence with an ardour that befitted a better cause. The old man dwelt at great length on his hair-breadth escapes and deeds of prowess; but the destruction of the implacable "Black-foot," was the absorbing subject. This chief, it appeared, had, with a small party, been hovering round Poe's farm for several nights, and the inmates were in great terror of a midnight attack; the principal aim of the chief, being, it is supposed to despatch a man, whose activity had rendered him particularly obnoxious to his tribe, and whose bravery was acknowledged by the settlers far and near.