Wishfully Towards the West

You know I can't stop reading about the strange night that Meriwether Lewis died. Here is a brief, peaceful interlude from Alexander Wilson's account: "He lighted his pipe, and drawing a chair to the door sat down, saying to Mrs. Grinder, in a kind tone of voice, 'Madam this is a very pleasant evening.' He smoked for some time, but quitted his seat and traversed the yard as before. He again sat down to his pipe, seemed again composed, and casting his eyes wishfully towards the west, observed what a sweet evening it was."