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          NARRATIVE

            OF THE

    LIFE OF DAVID CROCKETT,
    OF THE STATE OF TENNESSEE.


  I leave this rule for others when I'm dead,
  Be always sure you're right--THEN GO AHEAD!

                                  THE AUTHOR.


       WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.

         SIXTH EDITION.

  PHILADELPHIA.
  E. L. CAREY AND A. HART.
  BALTIMORE:
  CAREY, HART & CO.

  1834.


  Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1834,
                    BY DAVID CROCKETT,
  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Columbia.


  STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON,
  PHILADELPHIA.




PREFACE.


Fashion is a thing I care mighty little about, except when it happens to
run just exactly according to my own notion; and I was mighty nigh
sending out my book without any preface at all, until a notion struck
me, that perhaps it was necessary to explain a little the reason why and
wherefore I had written it.

Most of authors seek fame, but I seek for justice,--a holier impulse
than ever entered into the ambitious struggles of the votaries of that
_fickle_, _flirting_ goddess.

A publication has been made to the world, which has done me much
injustice; and the catchpenny errors which it contains, have been
already too long sanctioned by my silence. I don't know the author of
the book--and indeed I don't want to know him; for after he has taken
such a liberty with my name, and made such an effort to hold me up to
publick ridicule, he cannot calculate on any thing but my displeasure. If
he had been content to have written his opinions about me, however
contemptuous they might have been, I should have had less reason to
complain. But when he professes to give my narrative (as he often does)
in my own language, and then puts into my mouth such language as would
disgrace even an outlandish African, he must himself be sensible of the
injustice he has done me, and the trick he has played off on the publick.
I have met with hundreds, if not with thousands of people, who have
formed their opinions of my appearance, habits, language, and every
thing else from that deceptive work.

They have almost in every instance expressed the most profound
astonishment at finding me in human shape, and with the _countenance_,
_appearance_, and _common feelings_ of a human being. It is to correct
all these false notions, and to do justice to myself, that I have
written.

It is certain that the writer of the book alluded to has gathered up
many imperfect scraps of information concerning me, as in parts of his
work there is some little semblance of truth. But I ask him, if this
notice should ever reach his eye, how would he have liked it, if I had
treated _him_ so?--if I had put together such a bundle of ridiculous
stuff, and headed it with _his_ name, and sent it out upon the world
without ever even condescending to ask _his_ permission? To these
questions, all upright men must give the same answer. It was wrong; and
the desire to make money by it, is no apology for