Early in April of the year now spoken of, Louisville received an accession to the number of her citizens in the person of the renowned Major Quirey. This man's immense muscular power; his daring and activity have made him a scarcely less remarkable personage than was the celebrated Peter Francisco, of Virginia. Arriving here at a period when physical power was far more appreciated, and held in far higher reverence than mental capacity, Quirey soon gained a strong hold on the affections of the people around him. He was a native of Pennsylvania, but married at nineteen years of age, and soon thereafter removed to Kentucky. He was six feet and two inches in height, and weighed 250 pounds; he had no inclination to embonpoint but was muscular and robust. The palm of his enormous hand would easily have served a modern fine lady for a writing-desk.--Physiologists may feel inclined to doubt the truth of the assertion, but it is nevertheless confidently believed that his breast was a solid plate of bone, no appearance of the usual separation of the ribs being discernable, even after his death. Like all the men of his day, Quirey was a good hater alike of Indians and of cowards. A proof of this latter aversion occurred as he was descending the Ohio to Louisville. The Indians had recently been very successful in their battles with the emigrant boats, and were emboldened to attack all within their reach. Accordingly, Quirey's boat, containing beside himself and his family, only a single individual, whose name is not remembered, came in for its share of the hostility. A large party of Indians made an attack upon them somewhere above the present site of Maysville. Quirey fought bravely, but the other man became dreadfully alarmed, and running into the boat, concealed himself among the cargo. Quirey, still standing upon his boat, received the guns as they were loaded by his wife, and handed to him, and fired on either not missing his comrade or supposing him dead. After the engagement, in which, despite the fearful odds, Quirey was victorious, they found their trembling and cowardly companion who was slowly sneaking from his place of concealment. With an impulse quick as thought, Quirey seized him with one hand around the waist, and bearing him above his head, would in another moment have dashed him into the waves, but the tears and entreaties of Mrs. Quirey saved him for the time. With so cowardly a disposition, however, it might have spared the poor wretch much agony had he perished then; for Quirey set him ashore in the forest near Limestone, pointing him the way to the fort and there left him, surrounded on every side by objects to him of terror, there to "do or die." History is silent as to his fate.