s^^*sVi^i.>«j^;. ST CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRAHY 3 1924 096 277 342 DATE DUE ^nTpfn y |p/^&?ll 1 llllyiiiy. Ef — CTuEia'&^i CAVLORD ^RINTEOINU.S.A. Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924096277342 The Zigzag Series. BY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN EUROPE. ^ ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN CLASSIC LANDS. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN THE ORIENT. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN THE OCCIDENT. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN ACADIA. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN THE LEVANT. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN INDIA. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN THE ANTIPODES. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN THE BRITISH ISLES. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN THE GREA T NORTH- WEST. BSTES AND LAURIAT, Publishers, BOSTON, MASS. ~ -"^ - -^"^SM ^^D^ *SM^ ^P '^^jj- ^^ ^^-^,rf*'5v~T^^'V '-^'^iiiBHilHl'-^^^'^T?^^ ^B ^^Si ^^^ ^^^^^^^»n ' I I] \ K- »^- ^1' -Al" OLD TIMES IN ST., AUGUSTINE. A Zigzag Journey IN THE SUNNY SOUTH; OR, Wonder Tales of Early American History, BY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH. A VISIT TO THE SCENES AND ASSOCIATIONS OF THE EARLY AMERICAN SETTLEMENTS IN THE SOUTHERN STATES AND THE WEST INDIES. FULLY ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: ESTES AND LAURIAT, 3ot-3o5 Washington Street. >F Copyright, 1886, By Estes and Lauriat. AU Rights Reserved. .'3.-7/3 PREFACE. 1^ ■irSi HIS melange of historical and dialect stories is intended to direct the attention of young people to the romances of the South, and to suggest literary and historic, studies relating to the Gulf States and the Islands of the Southern Cross. The narrative takes one to Florida and the islands first visited by Columbus. The writer is indebted to his friends for several interpolated sketches and stories," — among them, to Mrs. Harriet Prescott Spof- FORD, Mr. James Parton, Paul H. Hayne, Mrs. Marie B. Williams, Mrs. Mary E. C. Wyeth, and the late " Sherwood Bonner." The volume has grown out of courses of reading which the writer took to prepare him for a winter excursion to Jacksonville, Tampa, and Havana, and follows the course of the other Zigzag books in picturing countries by stories. H. B. 28 Worcester Street, Boston. CONTENTS. -♦- Chapter Page I. Strange Stories 15 II. How TO VISIT Cuba. — A Romance of North Carolina 56 III. The Old Red Settle and an Evening of Merry Provincial Stories . 82 IV. Some Strange Historic Stories 106 V. The Old Red Settle goes South . . 144 VI. Charleston, and the Stories of William Gilmore Simms 170 VII. Beautiful Savannah, and Southward 180 VIII. Story-telling at St. Augustine 206 IX. Funny Tales of the Negro Cabins. — The St. John's River .... 233 X. The Isle of June 253 XI. Old Hispaniola 278 XII. Columbus's own Stories of New Spain 290 XIII. At the Tomb of Colon. — The Mississippi 306 ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE Old Times in St. Augustine . . Frontispiece In the Heart of Florida 17 Jesuit Mission in Florida . .... 21 Indians in Flight 29 Admiral Gaspard de Coligny .... 39 Massacre of the Huguenots at Fort Caroline . . . . . -43 The French discovering the Remains of the Ribaut Expedition . .... 47 Landing of Columbus ... 52 Statue of Columbus . ... 54 Havana ■ • SI George II . . 61 Charles Edward . . 69 The Emigrant's House in the Clearing . 72 Arrest of Charles Edward ... 73 " Us Chilluns " 80 The Old Red Settle 83 The Scarecrow .... . -90 The Barn Theatricals 97 Look Aloft 98 English and Dutch Quarrels . . . . loi Fight between a Settler and Indian Chief 109 Indian Attack on Settlers 115 Alexander carried a Prisoner to Plymouth 119 Destruction of Pequots 125 Mrs. Rowlandson and her Captors . 129 Philip's Head brought to Plymouth . . 133 Treaty of Peace with Indians ... 139 Capitol at Washington 145 George Washington 149 Governor Spotswood on the Blue Ridge 157 Wives for the Settlers 163 Washington's House at Mount Vernon Washington's Grave at Mount Vernon Charleston Sumter ... . . Marion . . ... Pickens Oglethorpe with the Indians Savannah Harbor .... Fountain in Forsyth Park, Savannah View of Jacksonville Harbor .~ . Natural Forest Water-carrier In the Everglades .... Scene on the St. John's River The Auction .... The Boy Promises . . . Scene in Martinique In the Heart of Georgia . . Ancient Negro Burial-places Mouth of the St. John's . " She done clomb up de chimney ! " I found tree geese " . . . Negro Village in Georgia Ascending the River . . . Nassau . Royal Victoria Hotel, Nassau The Natives ... . . A Planter's House . . . Columbus nearing the Islands Friendly Indians dealing with the Voy- agers ... .... Avenue of Palms .... Santiago de Cuba .... PAGE 166 167 171 1 75 178 i8i 183 184 186 187 191 199 203 209 214 218 227 229 23s 239 241 248 249 254 256 257 261 267 271 279 282 12 ILL USTRA TIONS. PAGE View of Cienfuegos 286 The Young Women waving Palm Brandies 288 Scene in San Domingo . . 291 Exploring the Islands 299 PAGE Settling in the New Land 3Q3 Cathedral of Havana 307 A Negro Family 309 Jesuit Mission . 313 Murder of La Salle 3 '7 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY SUNNY SOUTH. A ZIGZAG JOURNEY SUNNY SOUTH. CHAPTER I. STRANGE STORIES. I HE romance of North American history lies largely in the South." The remark was made by Mr. Charles Laurens to Charlie Leland on the piazza of an old New England tavern at Lakeville, Mass. Mr. Laurens was a native of St. Augustine, Fla., a gentleman of means and fine historic tastes. He and his wife and son were spending the summer in Massachusetts, at the old historic towns of Plymouth, Duxbury, and Middleborough. Lakeville is a part of Old Middleborough. Mr. Laurens had been led hither by the Indian associations and traditions of Assawamsett Lake, a calm expanse of water that lay directly in front of the hotel. On the shores of this lake is the old Winslow Reservation; and here live the descendants of Massasoit, the good sachem who protected the infant colony of Plymouth for nearly forty years. • Mr. Laurens had brought with him, on this visit to the North, his son Henry, a lad of about sixteen years, hoping to stimulate l6 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. his historic taste. There were a number of summer boarders at the hotel. Among these were Mr. Leland and his own son Charlie, a lad of whom some account has been given in a former volume of this series. Mr. Leland was a Boston gentleman and a repre- sentative business man, as Mr. Laurens was a worthy representative of the culture of the South. The two gentlemen became friendly, and their sons, Charlie Leland and Henry Laurens, intimate. " I supposed it was the North that was the fuller of stories and legends," said Charlie Leland to. Mr. Laurens. " Not of the picturesque and romantic kind," said Mr. Leland. " Who are some of the heroes of the Southern romances } " asked Charlie. " Well, first, Columbus." " But Columbus did not visit our shores." " No ; but the Antilles, the scene of the most romantic voyage ever foreseen by faith and made by man, are in America a,nd in the Sea of the South. The bones of Columbus lie in Havana." " They ought to find their last resting-place beneath the rotunda of our National Capitol," said Mr. Leland. " I could not now more than begin to enumerate the Southern romances," continued Mr. Laurens: "as, for example, the Spanish voyages of discovery; the search for the Seven Cities of Gold and the Fountain of Youth ; Ponce de Leon ; De Soto ; La Salle ; the Huguenots ; the Spanish legends of St. Augustine and Mobilea ; the poetic episodes of Sir Walter Raleigh ; Bienville ; Iberville ; Oglethorpe; Flora Macdonald ; Pulaski; Lord Fairfax and the boy- hood of Washington ; grand Lord Baltimore ; Marion and his men ; Greene in South Carolina; Moultrie; Tarleton ; Cornwallis; Bal- four; John and Charles Wesley's visit; the preaching of Whitefield. Pardon me ; only a few of the old romances come to my mind now. The South has found no true historian ; and with the exception of William Gilmore Simms, no one who has written in sympathy her IN THE HEART OF FLORIDA. STRANGE STORIES. 19 pictur.esque eras and heroic people. Southern history is a long poetic procession, going on for more than three hundred years." " I never dreamed that the South was associated with such names," said Charlie. " I knew it as mere history lesson, but I never so pictured it in my mind before." " There are two sections of our country," said Mr. Leland, " that the true historian and the poet have but half touched. One is the vast empire of the Southern States, and the other is Rhode Island." " Little Rhode Island ? " asked Charlie, incredulously. " Yes." " But why, father ? " " I will give you a few points after the manner of my good friend Mr. Laurens: the Northmen; Verrazano; Bishop Berkeley; Massasoit; Roger Williams under the protection of Massasoit at Mount Hope ; King Philip ; Anne Hutchinson ; Sir Henry Vane and Williams ; the Antinomians ; the first Baptists ; the proclama- tion of liberty of the conscience and freedom of the soul, — a principle that has made America what she is, and that has revolutionized Europe, and has just been promulgated in India; the Revolutionary romances ; Greene ; Barton ; Prescott ; — but I, too, will stop. It is a tremendous history for so small a territory ; there ought to be a history of Rhode Island written in the spirit and coloring of Hawthorne's ' Twice Told Tales.' " " The tales of the Massachusetts Bay Colony and of Plymouth have been twice told, and many times told," said Mr. Laurens. " The world knows them, while the equally noble stories of other colonies and parts of the country have scarcely been told at all. History is dumb until it finds a poet, or what is the same thing, a poetic 1 historian. The whole world knows Germany, because her heroes, her lakes, rivers, and mountains, her trades and occupations, have all found a poet. It is the land of song." " I wish," said Charlie Leland to Mr. Laurens, "that you would 20 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. tell US some of the old tales of the South that are not generally known." " I think," said Henry, " that the most delightful stories of the South for boys and girls are those that are never printed at all, — the half-fairy tales and stories of old family history as related in the old negro cabins." Charlie Leland looked 'surprised. " The negroes are the natural story-tellers of the South," said Mr. Laurens. "A story, to fill the imagination of the young, must have a flavor of superstition and mystery. The negro is supersti- tious to such a degree as to lend a lively coloring to the most homely romance." " When I was a little boy," said Henry, " I always used to go to the negro cabins for my stories. Father never could interest me ; but old Moxon, the revivalist preacher, could." " I used to belong to a society at school called the Zigzag Club," said Charlie Leland. " It had for its object the telling of legendary and historic stories, and afterward the visiting of the places associated with these stories. Why could not we form a little society, for the few days that we are to be together, for the telling of stories, — strange stories of the North and South, stories but little known out of the sections where they occurred " Provincialisms," said Mr. Laurens. . " Would you not oblige us by telling some of the stories of the South that you have suggested ? " " Thank you for the compliment. My son has just said that I could never interest him in telling a story ; but I will agree to tell a story of Southern life, historical or social, or even of the old negro cabins, for every story that you tell me of your own delightful region. How will that do t " " I think, perhaps, that father should answer that question fpr me." " I will do my best," said Mr. Leland. M^W**^^ „Mm. STRANGE STORIES. 23 " And you, Henry ? " " I will relate as many stories of the South as you will of the North, as many of St. Augustine as you of the region about the Middleborough lakes, even if I have to resort to old Moxon's bugaboos, as father used to call them." " Let us call ourselves the Assawamsett Club, and begin our story-telling this evening. Could we not meet on the piazza for story-telling every evening, immediately after supper .? " Mr. Laurens smiled approvingly; and thus began on the piazza of the old tavern some agreeable story-telling which ended in a journey which it is the purpose of this book to describe, — a journey from Plymouth to the tomb of Colon at Havana, by the way of the Southern seaboard cities, and the St. John's River through Florida. It was June, the time of the most delightful days of the Northern climate. The daylight does not fade out of the crimson sky until nearly nine o'clock in the evening. The hours of the lingering light are full of long shadows, and comfortably cool ; they are the pFeasantest hours that can be spent on the piazza of a Northern hotel. Great orchards shaded the landscape around the Lakeville inn. The lake was surrounded with woods. It, was full of sunshine in the long June days; and when the full moon rose upon it, it seemed a mirror. The ospreys wheeled over it and screamed in the noon- day sunshine, and the night-hawks or whippoorwills made sad the groves with their notes through half tlie nights. The road in front of the inn was old, protected by gray stone walls, and followed provincial curves and zigzags. In the evening the quiet old country town seemed like dreamland ; for here perished the Indian tribes of old, and their graves are here, and the shells of their feasts and the arrows of their warfare fill the soil. 24 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY /A THE SUNNY SOUTH. The first meeting of the Assawamsett Club found an audience that filled the piazza. The club was organized with seven meijn- bers, — Mr. and Mrs. Laurens and their son, Mr. Leland and Charlie, a stately old lady named Endicott, and an old Middleborough farmer named Felix; both the latter had the reputation of being "antiqua- rians" and good story-tellers. Their membership had been suggested by the people of the hotel. The purpose of the club was announced to be " The Telling of Provincial Stories, North and South." There was but one article to the Club's verbal constitution, " That only stories that are strange shall be toldr This article was Charlie Leland's suggestion. By " strange " he meant, we suppose, such stories as are generally unfamiliar, that have not been the subjects of romances, poems, and boys' books, and that have an original stamp and coloring. The Club was ready for a story. Who should begin ? Mr. Leland suggested Mr. Laurens, but he was not quite prepared. Mr. Laurens suggested Mr. Leland. " Not prepared." They both suggested Mr. Felix. " Not quite ready." Then Mrs. Laurens suggested Mrs. Endicott, — "the Widder Endi- cott," she was called in Middleborough. The Widow Endicott raised her gold-bowed spectacles in a very self-possessed way. " A strange story ? " said she. "Yes," — "yes," — "yes." " Well, you good Southern people have come to the right region for strange stories. This place was first all full of Indians, then of witches and ghosts, and then of patriots. But I haven't any story to tell." STRANGE STORIES. 25 " Tell the one about the Powder-Candle," said Felix. " Well, Felix, as all the rest seem to have backed down at the very start, and as somebody must begin, else where will the Club end, I will do the best I can. Strange that you should fix upon me ! " « The widow gave her gold-bowed spectacles another push, and said : It MY GRANDMOTHER'S GRANDMOTHER'S CHRISTMAS CANDLE. There were no Christmas celebrations in my old Puritan home in Swansea, such as we have in all New England homes to-day. No church bells rung out in the darkening December air ; there were no children's carols learned in Sunday-schools ; no presents, and not even a sprig of box, ivy, or pine in any window. Yet there was one curious custom in the old town that made Christmas Eve in many homes the merriest in the year. It was the burning of the Christmas candle; and of this old, forgotten custom of provincial towns I have an odd story to tell. The Christmas candle ? You may never have heard of it. You may fancy that it was 'some beautiful image in wax or like an altar-light. This was not the case. It was a candle containing a quill filled with gunpowder, and its burning excited an intense interest while we waited for the expected explosion. I well remember Dipping-Candle Day ; it was a very interesting day to me in my girlhood, because it was then that the Christmas candle was dipped. It usually carhe in the fall, in the short, lonesome days of November, just before the new schoolmaster opened the winter term of the school. My grandmother brought down from the garret her candle-rods and poles. The, candle-rods were light sticks of elder, some fifty in number, and the poles were long pine bars. These poles were tied two each to two chairs ; and the rods, after they had been wicked, were laid upon them at short distances apart. " Wicking the candle-rods " is a phrase of which few people to-day know the meaning. Every country-store in old times contained a large supply of balls of •:otton candle-wick. This wick was to be cut, put upon the candle-rods, twisted, and tallowed or waxed, so as to be convenient for dipping. How many times have I seen my grandmother, on the long November even- ings, wicking her candle-rods ! She used to do the work, sitting in her easy- chair before the great open fire. One side of the fireplace was usually hung with strings of dried or partly dried apples, and the other with strings of red 26 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. peppers. Over the fireplace were a gun and the almanac; and on the hearth there were usually, in the evening, a few sweet apples roasting ; and at one end of it was the dog, and at the other the cat. Dipping candles would seem a comical sight to-day. My grandmother used to sit over a great iron kettle of melted tallow, and patiently dip the wicks on the rods into it, until they grew to the size of candles. Each rod contained about five wicks, and these were dipped together. The process was repeated perhaps fifty or more times. A quill of powder was tied to the wick of the Christmas candle before dip- ping, and the wick was so divided at the lower end that the candle should have three legs. The young people took a great interest in the dipping as well as the burning of the Christmas candle. My grandmother's candle-rods had belonged to her grand\ii other, who had lived in the early days of the Plymouth Colony. They had been used since the days of King Philip's War. There was a story of the dark times of the Indian war that my grandmother used to relate on the night that we burned our Christmas candle, — a story that my grandmother told of her grandmother, and of the fortunate and timely explo- sion of one of that old lady's Christmas candles in the last days of Philip's War, when the sight of a hostile Indian was a terror to the unarmed colonist. " It was well that candle went off when it did," my grandmother used to say. " If it had not, I don't know where any of us would have been to-night ; not here, telling riddles and roasting apples and enjoying ourselves, I imagine. I have dipped a powder-candle every season since, not that I believe much in keeping holidays, but because a powder-candle once saved the family." She continued her story : — " My grandmother was a widow in her last years. She had two children, Benjamin and my mother, Mary. She lived at Pocasset, and the old house overlooked Mount Hope and the bay. Pocasset "was an Indian province then, and its Indian queen was named Wetamoo. "My grandmother was a great-hearted woman. She had a fair amount of property, and she used it for the good of her less fortunate neighbors. She had kept several poor old people from the town-house by giving them a home with her. Her good deeds caused her to be respected by every one. " The Indians were friendly to her. She had done them so many acts of kindness that even the haughty Wetamoo had once called to see her and made her a present. The old house was near an easy landing-place for boats on the bay ; and the Indians, as they came from their canoes, passed through the yard, STRANGE STORIES. 27 and often stopped to drink from the well. It was no uncommon thing, on a hot summer's day, to find an Indian asleep in the street or under the dooryard trees. " Among the great men of the tribe was an Indian named Squamraaney ; Warmmesley he was sometimes called, also Warmmesley-Squammaney. He was a giant in form, but his greatness among his people arose from his supposed magical power and his vigorous voice. It was believed that he could whoop and bellow so loud and long as to frighten away evil spirits from the sick, so that the patient would recover. All the Indians regarded old Squammaney with fear and awe, and he was very proud of his influence over them. "When an Indian fell sick, Warmmesley-Squammaney was. called to the bedside. If old Warmmesley could not drive the evil spirits away, the patient believed that he must die. " Squammaney did his supposed duty in such cases. He was a faithful doc- tor. He covered himself with dried skins, shells, and feathers, and approached the hut of the patient with as mysterious and lofty an air as one of the old- time physicians of the gig and saddle-bags. As he drew near the hut, he would rattle the dried skins, and howl. He would look cautiously into the hut, then run away from it a little distance, leap into the air, and howl. Then he would cautiously return ; and if the case were a bad one, he would again run away, leap into the air, and howl. At last he would enter the hut, examine the sick man or woman, and utter mysterious cries. He would fix the mind of the sufferer entirely upon himself by a kind of mesmeric influence ; then he would begin to move in a circle around the patient, shaking th« dried skins and beads, bobbing his plumes, and chanting an Indian ditty. Gradually his movements would become more swift ; he would howl and leap, his voice rising higher at every bound ; he would continue this performance until he fell down all in a heap, like a tent of dried skins. But by this time the mind of the patient was usually so withdrawn from his sufferings as to quite forget them ; and con- sequently it often happened that the invalid and old Warmmesley-Squammaney rose up together, and indulged in hand-shaking, thus concluding an exhibition of some of the remarkable effects of mesmeric influence, which were possible in those old times as well as now. " In his peculiar way old Warmmesley once cured of rheumatism a Puritan deacon who rewarded him by caUing him a ' pagan.' The deacon had been confined to his room for weeks. Some Indians called to see him, and pitying his condition, set off in great haste for Warmmesley. The latter came, in his dried skins, with his head bristling with horns and feathers. The astonished deacon forgot his infirmities at the first sight of the terrible object ; and as 28 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. soon as Warmmesley began to leap and howl, and shake his beads, shells, and dried skins, the white man leaped from his bed, and running to the barn, knelt down and began to pray. There his wife found him. " 'It fs old Warmmesley,' said she. " ' The old pagan ! ' said he, rising up. ' What was it, Ruth, that was the matter with me } ' '■ My grandmother had caught the spirit of Eliot, the Indian Apostle, and she used to hold in the old kitchen a religious meeting, each week, for the instruction of the 'praying Indians' of the town. The Indians who became Christians were called ' praying Indians ' by their own people, and came to be so called by the English. Among the Indians who came out of curiosity was the beautiful Princess Amie, the youngest daughter of the great chief Massasoit, who protected Plymouth Colony for nearly forty years. " Warmmesley came once to my grandmother's meetings, and tried to sing. He wished to out-sing the rest, and he did, repeating over and over again, — " ' He lub poor Indian in de wood, An' me lub God, and dat be good ; I '11 praise him two times mo' ! ' "Just before the beginning of the Indian war, my grandmother offended Warmmesley. The English had taught him bad habits, and he had become a cider-drinker. He used to wander about the country, going from farm-house to farm-house, begging for ' hard ' cider, as old cider was called. " One day my grandmother found him lying intoxicated under a tree in the yard, and she forbade the giving of Warmmesley any more cider from the cellar. A few days afterward, he landed from his canoe in front of the grounds, and came to the workmen for cider. The workmen sent him to my grandmother. " ' No, Warmmesley, no more,' said she, firmly. ' Steal your wits. Wicked ! ' "Warmmesley begged for one porringer, — just one. " ' Me sick,' he pleaded. " ' No, Warmmesley. Never. Wrong.' " ' Me pay you ! ' said he, with an evil look in his eye. ' Me pay you ! ' " Just then a flock of crows flew past. Warmmesley pointed to them and said, — '"It's coming — fight — look up there! Ugh, ugh!' — pointing to the crows. 'Fight English. Look over' — pointing to the bay — 'fight, fight — me pay you ! Ugh ! Ugh ! ' INDIANS IN FLIGHT. STRANGE STORIES. 3 1 " My grandmother pointed up to the blue sky, as much as to say that her trust was in a higher power than man's. " Warmmesley turned away reluctantly, looking back with a half-threatening, half-questioning look, and saying, ' Ugh ! Ugh 1 ' He evidently hoped that my grandmother would call him back, but she was firm. " The upper windows of the old house overlooked the bay. " It was fall. The maples flamed, and the oak leaves turned to gold and dust ; the flocks of birds gathered, and went their unknown way. The even- ings were long. It was harvest time. The full moon rose in the twihght, and the harvesters continued their labors into the night. " Philip, or Pometacom, was now at Mount Hope, and Wetamoo had taken up her residence on the high shores of Pocasset. The hills of Pocasset were in full view of Mount Hope ; and between lay the quiet, sheltered waters of the bay. Philip had cherished a strong friendship for Wetamoo, who was the widow of his brother Alexander. " Night after night the harvesters had noticed canoes crossing and recross- ing the bay, moving like shadows silently to and fro. The moon waned ; the nights became dark and cloudy ; the movement across the water went on ; the boats carried torches now, and the dark bay became picturesque as the mys- terious lines of light were drawn across it. " From time to time a great fire would blaze up near the high rocks at Mount Hope, burn a few hours, and then fade. " It was whispered about among the English that Philip was holding war- dances, and that Wetamoo and her warriors were attending them ; yet Philip had just concluded a treaty of peace with the English, and Wetamoo professed to be a friend to the Colony. " War came on the following summer, stealthily at first. Englishmen were found murdered mysteriously in the towns near Mount Hope. Then came the killing of the people in Swansea as they were going home from church, about which all the histories of the Colonies tell ; then the open war. " Philip flashed like a meteor from place to place, murdering the people and burning their houses. No one could tell where he would next appear, or who would be his next victim. Every colonist during the year 1675, wherever he might be, lived in terror of lurking foes. There were dreadful cruelties every- where, and towns and farm-houses vanished in smoke. " Wetamoo joined Philip. She had some six hundred warriors. Philip had made her believe that the English had poisoned her husband Alexander, who was also his brother, and who had succeeded the good Massasoit. Alexander 32 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. had died suddenly while returning from Plymouth on the Taunton River. The mysterious lights on the bay were now explained. " Before Wetamoo joined Philip, one of her captains had sent word to my grandmother that as she had been a friend to the Indians, she should be protected. " ' I have only one fear,' said my grandmoiher often, during that year of terror, — ' Warmmesley.' " Warmmesley-Squammaney had "gone away with Philip's braves under Wetamoo. He was one of Wetamoo's captains. Wetamoo herself had joined Philip, like a true warrior-queen. " The sultry August of 1676 brought a sense of relief to the Colonies. The warriors of Philip were defeated on every hand. His wife and son were cap- tured ; and broken-hearted he returned to Mount Hope — the burial-ground of his race for unknown generations — to die. Wetamoo, too, became a fugitive, and was drowned in attempting to cross to the lovely hills of Pocasset on a raft. " The war ended. Where was Warmmesley-Squammaney .■■ No one knew. Annawon, Philip's great captain, had been captured, and nearly all the principal leaders of the war were executed ; but old Squammaney had mysteriously disappeared. " Peace came. October flamed, as Octobers flame, and November faded, as Novembers fade, and the snows of December fell. The Colonies were full of joy and thanksgivings. " ' I am thankful for one thing more than all others,' said my grandmother on Thanksgiving Day ; ' and that is that I am now sure that old Squammaney is gone where he will never trouble us again. I shall never forget his evil eye as he said, "I will pay you ! " It has troubled me night and day.' " That fall, when my grandmother was dipping candles, she chanced to re- call the old custom of the English town from which she had come, of making a powder-candle for Christmas. The spirit of merry-making was abroad upon the return of peace ; and she prepared one of these curious candles, and told her family that they might invite the neighbors' children on Christmas Eve to see it burn and explode. The village schoolmaster, Silas Sloan, was living at the old house ; and he took the liberty to invite the school, which consisted of some ten boys and girls. " Christmas Eve came, — a clear, still night, with a white earth and shining sky. Some twenty or more people, young and old, gathered in the great kitchen to see the Christmas candle ' go off.' During the early part of the evening ' Si ' STRANGE STORIES. II Sloan entertained the company with riddles. Then my grandmother brought in the Christmas candle, an odd-looking object, and set it down on its three legs. She lighted it, blew out th6 other candles, and asked Silas to tell a story. " Silas was glad of the opportunity to entertain such an audience. The story that he selected for this novel occasion was awful in the extreme, such as was usually told in those times before the great kitchen fires. " Silas — ' Si,' as he was called — was relating an account of a so-called haunted house, where, according to his silly narrative, the ghost of an Indian used to appear at the foot of an old woman's bed; and some superstitious people declared that the old lady one night, on awaking and finding the ghostly Indian present, put out her foot to push him away, and pushed her foot directly through him. What a brave old lady she must have been, and how uncom- fortable it must have been for the ghost ! — But at this point of Silas's foolish story, the dog suddenly started up and began to howh " The children, who were so highly excited over Si's narrative that they hardly dared to breathe, clung to one another with trembUng hands as the dog sent up his piercing cry. Even Si himself started. The dog seemed listening. "The candle was burning well. The children now watched it in dead silence. "A half-hour passed. The candle was burning within an inch of the quill, and all eyes were bent upon it. If the candle ' sputtered,' the excitement became intense. ' I think it will go off in ten minutes now,' said my grand- mother. " There was a noise in the yard. All heard it distinctly. The dog dashed round the room, howled, and stopped to listen at the door. " People who relate so-called ghost stories are often cowardly, and it is usually a cowardly nature that seeks to frighten children. Si Sloan was no exception to the rule. " The excitement or the dog at once affected Silas. His tall, thin form moved about the room cautiously and mysteriously. He had a way of spread- ing apart his fingers when he was frightened, and his fingers were well apart now. "iV noise in the yard at night was not an uncommon thing, but the peculiar cry of the dog and the excited state of the company caused this to be noticed. My grandmother arose at last, and amid dead silence opened the shutter. " ' I think that there is some one in the cider-mill,' said she. 34 -4 ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. " She looked toward the candle, and, feeling confident that some minutes would elapse before the explosion, she left the room, and went upstairs, and there looked from the window. "From the window she could see in the moonlight Mount Hope, where Philip had so recently been killed, and also the arm of the bay, where Wetamoo had perished. She could see the bay itself, and must have remembered the lights that a year before had so often danced over it at night. She lingered there a moment. Then she called, ^ — "' Silas — Silas Sloan!' " Silas hurried up the stairs. "They both came down in a few minutes. Silas's face was as white as the snow. " ' What is it ? ' the children whispered. "There was another painful silence. Grandmother seemed to have for- gotten the candle. All eyes were turned to her face. " Then followed a sound that sent the blood from every face. It was as if a log had been dashed against the door. The door flew open, and in stalked two Indians. One of them was Warmmesley-Squammaney. " ' Ugh ! ' said Warmmesley. "'What do you want.-'' demanded my grandmother. " ' Me pay you now ! — Old Squammaney pay you. Cider ! ' "He sat down by the fire, close to the candle. The other Indian stood by his chair, as though awaiting his orders. The young children began to cry, and Silas shook like a man with the palsy. " ' Me pay you ! — Me remember ! Ugh ! ' said Squammaney. ' Braves all gone. Me have revenge — Old Squammaney die hard. Ugh! Ugh!' " The door was still partly open, and the wind blew into the room. It caused the candle to flare up and to burn rapidly. " Squammaney warmed his hands. Occasionally he would turn his head slowly, with an evil look in his black eye, as it swept the company. " The candle was forgotten. The only thought of each one was what Squammaney intended to do. "All the tragedies of the war just ended were recalled by the older members of the company. Were there other Indians outside ? " No one dared rise to close the door or to attempt to escape. " Suddenly Squammaney turned to my grandmother. " ' White squaw get cider. Go — Go ! ' " The Indians threw open their blankets. They were armed. STRANGE STORIES. 35 "The sight of these armed warriors caused Silas to shake in a strange manner, and his fear and agitation became so contagious that the children began to tremble and sob. When the sound of distress became violent, Squammaney would sweep the company with his dark eyes, and awe it into a brief silence. " My grandmother alone was calm. " She rose, and walked around the room, followed by the eyes of the two Indians. " As soon as the attention of the Indians, attracted for a moment by the falling of a burnt stick on the hearth, was diverted from her, she whispered to Silas, — "' Go call the men.' " The attitude of Silas on receiving this direction, as she recalled it after- ward, was comical indeed. His hands were spread out by his side, and his eyes grew white and wild. He attempted to reply in a whisper, but he could only say, — " ' Ba-b-b-ba ! ' " Squammaney's eyes again swept the room. Then he bent forward to push back some coals that had rolled out upon the floor. " ' Go call the men,' again whispered my grandmother to Silas ; this time sharply. " ' Ba-b-b-b-ba ! ' His mouth looked like a sheep's. His hands again opened, and his eyes fairly protruded. His form was tall and thin, and he really looked like one of the imaginary spectres about whom he delighted to tell stories on less perilous occasions. "Squammaney ' heard Grandmother's whisper, and became suspicious. He rose, his dark form towering in the light of the fire. He put his hand on the table where burned the candle. He turned, and faced my grandmother with an expression of hate and scorn. "What he intended to do was never known, for just at that moment there was a fearful explosion. It was the powder-candle. "A stream of fire shot up to the ceiling. Then the room was filled with the smoke of gunpowder. The candle went out ; the room was dark. "'White man come! Run!' my grandmother heard one of the Indians say. There was a sound of scuffling feet ; then the door closed with a bang. As the smoke lifted, the light of the fire gradually revealed that the Indians had gone. They evidently thought that they had been discovered, pursued, and that the house was surrounded by soldiers. 36 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. "At last my grandmother took a candle from the shelf and lighted it. Silas, too, was gone. Whither .■' Had the Indians carried him away .' " Late in the evening the neighbors began to come for their children, and were told what had happened. The men of the town were soon under arms. But old Warmmesley-Squammaney was never seen in that neighborhood again, nor was his fate ever known to the towns-people. That was the last fright of the Indian war. " Silas returned t(5 the school-room the next day, but he never visited the old house again. Whatever may have been his real belief in regard to people of the air, he had resolved never again to put himself under a roof where he would be likely to meet Warmmesley-Squammaney. "After this strange event two generations of grandmothers continued to burn, on each Christmas Eve, the old powder-candle." The story of the Powder-Candle suggested stories to other members of the Club. It proved a good illustration of the kind of story the Club might properly seek in this little-visited but very historic region. " I wish that you would make some plan for us to visit the historic places so near to us," said Mrs. Laurens, — " the places associated with Massasoit and his family, with Roger Williams, and with the pioneers of religious liberty." " It would give me pleasure not only to show you how to visit such places," said Mr. Leland, " but to accompany you and your family to them, if you will accept the service. This is a good place to begin to study the beginnings of our history." " We would like to accept your offer," said Mr. Laurens, " but we could do so only on one condition." " What is that, may I ask ? " said Mr. Leland. " That you will spend a winter with us in Florida, and allow us to accompany you to some of the places of romance and history in the South. Florida is a good place to study the beginnings of history." " That is an invitation that I would be glad to accept," said Mr. Leland. " I thank you." STRANGE STORIES. 37 " And I," said Charlie, — " I could think of nothing that 1 would so much like." " I would take you on a canoe trip on the St. John's," said Henry. " We would there visit the scenes of the Spanish occupation where occurred the massacre of the Huguenots." " I never heard of the massacre of the Huguenots," said Charlie. " Then I have a story that I will relate to you," said Mr. Laurens. "DERNIER VOYAGE AUX INDIES." A TALE OF FLORIDA. To me the most interesting stream in Florida is the River St. John. You see on either side the orange groves descending to the water's edge, the strange tropical growths, birds like living flame, butterflies of the intense blue of the sky overhead, — a region so full of light and color, so beautiful both by nature and cultivation, that it is only by an effort you remember the banks of this lovely stream were once stained by a terrible tragedy. I do not know that the chronicle of Captain Jean Ribaut and his companions has ever been translated, but it is from it I draw these incidents. The French Huguenots, under their leader, Gaspard de Coligny, Admiral of France, fitted out an expedition to found an empire in New France, as the Floridas were then called. On the 1 8th of February, 1562, two ships, commanded by Captain Jean Ribaut and Rene Laudonni^re, distinguished French officers of marine, set sail from Dieppe. After a tempestuous voyage they reached the coast of Florida, which had been discovered before by Verrazano in 1523. They entered the St. John, which they called the River of May, from having discovered it on the first of that month. As usual with the explorers of that day, they set up a column at the mouth of the river, engraved with the arms of France, in token that they took formal possession of the country in the name of the French sovereign. They built Fort Charles at Port Royal, and then returned to France. On the 22d of April, 1564, Laudonniere returned to Florida, with three vessels containing emigrants, provisions, and arms for the little colony, and 38 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. built Fort Caroline, near the mouth of the St. John. The following year Ribaut also returned to Florida, with a large fleet, to relieve Laudonniere of his com- mand. It is the story of that last disastrous voyage I wish to tell you. Captain, Ribaut, in the obsolete French of that day, tells of the voyage ^nd the high hopes of the emigrants who were going out. They believed that everything which could delight the soul of man was to be found in tha,t favored clime. The country was neither frozen in winter nor parched by summer suns. It was rich in gold mines, fertile plains, and lofty mountains, and the trees distilled precious gums. " In fact," says the worthy captain, "every man was sure that what he most desired was to be found in that new country! I had not seen these great things when I was there ; but I said nothing, for I knew too little myself of the country." On the 14th of August, 1565, the vessels arrived off the coast of Florida, and meeting some Indians there, asked them where the new colony. Fort Caro- line, was situated. They told him they had heard there were white men fifty miles toward the north. The vessels sailed until they reached the St. John, and taking two of the smallest ships. Captain Ribaut followed the stream until they reached Fort Caroline. Laudonniere met them at the bank. " At last, God be praised ! " he cried. " We thought you had abandoned us, and we are starving, — yes, actually starving. The Indians will not bring us food, and we were too few to venture in those hostile woods to seek it. I will return to France immediately. I can bear a great deal, but the limit has been reached." '' But," asked Captain Ribaut, " we found the Indians friendly and obliging when we first came. Why do they now refuse to bring provisions .-' " Laudonniere shrugged his shoulders. " Ah, well, you see, our men have made enemies ; you see, they were hard to control. They made forays, brought prisoners to the fort, and, to speak frankly, acted like fools, and worse. If you had not come when you did, you would not have found us here, and our scalps would have decorated the wigwams." Captain Ribaut shook his head. He knew well the danger of awakening the hostility of the savages. " It is bad," he said, " for we shall have two enemies. Philip of Spain is send- ing out a fleet under Don Pedro Menendez de Aviles, to drive us from Florida if he can. Wp are ordered to resist him to the death." ADMIRAL GASPARU DE COLIGNY. . » STRANGE STORIES. 41 Menendez reached the coast of Florida, his fleet badly storm-beaten. Ribaut demanded his business. He was told that war was declared between Spain and France, and that they were there as enemies. The French considered it more prudent to retreat a short distance, until their preparations could be made, and the Spaniards only pursued them to the mouth of the river they called Dauphin. Jean Ribaut, returning to Fort Caro- line, took on board nearly all the able-bodied men, much against the will of Laudonni^re, who was left with invalids, women, and a small number of troops. Ribaut intended attacking the Spaniards, and in one decisive engagement to drive them from Florida. ' But Menendez, who had gained a foothold, and commenced building Fort Marion, had his spies among the Indians, and knew that Captain Ribaut had taken all the available forces from Fort Caroline. Now was the time to surprise the fort. To get possession of it, with the Indians as allies, would be to control the country. Taking Indian guides, with a strong force he made his way through marsh and morass, and in the midst of a terrible storm swooped down on the fort, and took it after a short resistance. Said one of the survivors, in a narrative written in 1568, as nearly as I can recall it, — " I escaped, God knows how, and ran to the thick woods. I stopped at some little distance, and hiding behind the trees, looked down at the inner court of the fort, where the massacre was going on. It was so horrible that I covered my eyes with my hands, and ran on headlong, knowing not and caring not where I was going, if I could only get away from that spot. The thorns tore my flesh, the great vines hanging from tree to tree tripped me up, but I felt nothing. Suddenly in front of me I heard groans and cries, and came upon some of our men who had also escaped. We knelt down and prayed God to help us. But Monsieur Lebeau said, — " ' My friends, we can go no farther in this wilderness. We do not know what course to take, and the forest is full of wild beasts and hostile savages, who would kill us with horrible tortures. Let us return to the fort, and give ourselves up to the Spaniards. They may spare us, but death is certain here.' " Then I cried out, and asked if it was not better to trust God than those butchers, whose hands were even then red with the blood of our friends. " But some said no, it would be better to return ; and six decided to do so. We all returned with them to the edge of the woods, watched them enter the fort ; and before they had time to cry for mercy, they were barbarously mur- dered, and their dead bodies dragged to the bank of the river, and piled up in 42 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. a mound with the rest of our slaughtered friends. Some of the bodies were suspended from trees. "We heard afterward that Captain Jean Ribaut in his vessel 'The Pearl,' had anchored in front of the fort while the butchery was going on, and some of our men escaped and swam to it. Don Pedro Menendez called to Captain Ribaut to surrender. He refused ; and the Spaniards tore the eyes out of the dead Frenchmen and cast them, with dreadful curses, toward the vessel. "As for us poor wretches, in that trackless forest, we travelled- through dreadful places, hearing the bellow of the crocodiles, and the hiss of immense snakes as our steps disturbed them. We chewed the bark of trees, and found some fruit to satisfy our hunger. We did not know that it was poisonous, for it had a strange, sweetish taste, and was yellow and oblong (probably the paw- paw), but we would have eaten it all the same. We were making for the sea- coast as well as we could shape our course. We came across rivers which we crossed, sometimes by swimming, sometimes by the aid of fallen trees. At last, when exhausted and ready to lie down and die, we came to a vast sea- marsh ; and one of our nien, climbing a high tree, saw, a short distance off, not only the sea, but the vessel of Captain Maillard, which he signalled, and they sent boats after us. " More dead than alive, we were taken on board, and there we found the Sieur Laudonni^re, who had also escaped. Shortly afterward ' The Pearl ' sailed up to us, and Captain Jean Ribaut told how his vessels had been dispersed and wrecked by the hurricane, during which the fort had been taken; but he said he would never leave the coast while there was a chance of any of our men escaping, — that it was his duty to stay and give them aid. But Captain Maillard sailed for France, taking us with him." This is a brief summary of the " dernier voyage aux Indes," as the narrative is called which I have imperfectly given ; and any one who will master the old French dialect in which it is written will find it most interesting. It only remains to tell of the fate of the heroic Huguenot, Captain Ribaut, who would not desert his post of duty. He was again tempest-tossed, and his remaining vessels driven ashore. The French wandered about, half-starving, and knowing well that the Indians, whom the soldiers at the fort had angered, would take the first chance to revenge themselves. A body of Spaniards came upon them. They were too weak to resist, and gave up their arms, upon a solemn promise from Vallemande, the commanding officer, that they should be treated as prisoners of war. MASSACRE OF THE kuGUENOTS AT FORT CAROLINE. STRANGE STORIES. 45 Ribaut, honorable and truthful himself, believed the treacherous Spaniard. They were marched on ; and had he not been in front, he would have seen that his thirty men had their hands tied behind their backs. As they entered the fort, the massacre began. Captain Ribaut himself was first to fall. One by one they entered the fatal gate, their hands tied behind them. One by one grew the pile of dead bodies. With what emotions must each have first made the awful discovery of his fate ! All were stricken down, one by one ; nine hundred Huguenots were mur- dered on the banks of the St. John. It was on St. Matthew's Day the fort was taken, — a second St. Bartholomew. There have been few such scenes in American history, and the tragedy has been but little noted. The lovely Floridian river retains no token of this massacre. While we remember the treachery and bloodshed of that fatal day, we do not forget the heroic self-sacrifice of brave Jean Ribaut, who literally gave up his life upon the bare chance of saving some fugitive from the cruel Spaniards. " I never knew before that such a tragedy took place on our shores," said Charlie. "That shows," said Mr. Leland, "how unequal is the knowledge of historic stories. Those incidents that find historians, story-writers, and poets, are the most famous. A poet will make a minor event of history seem great. The historical storjes of Massachusetts are famous because they have found Hawthornes, Longfellows, and Whittiers to tell them.. Rhode Island stories are little known beca.use they have found no voice of genius to give them life. So with the South, as we have already remarked." " If you will come to Florida in the winter, there is one excursion that I would be glad to make with you, that I know would give you pleasure," said Mr. Laurens. " Where ? " asked Mr. Leland. " To Havana in a steam yacht from Tampa Bay, to visit the tomb of Columbus. It can be made in a few days, going and returning. 46 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. The water of the Gulf is warm and smooth at that season, and the nights on the sea are tropical splendors. You could never forget them." He added : " I might be able to secure a steam yacht, and take you over the very course of the first voyage of Columbus." " That would be an historic excursion indeed," said Charlie. " I shall never stop thinking of it until I have made it. I would rather stand before the tomb of Columbus than before the tomb of any other man who ever lived." " I have the same feeling that Charlie has about such an excursion," said Mr. Leland. " I accept your invitation most cordially, and if my health and business will allow, you may find us at .St. Augustine another winter ; if not then, some other winter." " I have visited the tomb of Columbus," said Mr. Laurens. " The subject brings to my mind some incidents associated with his voyage that are not commonly known ; and as comparatively unfamiliar stories are to be told in our Club, I will give them. The incidents relate to the devotions of Columbus on approaching land." THE HYMN AND PRAYER OF COLUMBUS. A STORY OF THE BAHAMAS. There is a little book (one of the numerous publications of the late Mr. Bohn) which I always regard with peculiar interest, because it was the book which led to the discovery of America. I mean the " Travels of Marco Polo,'' who went all over Asia about the year 1300, and wrote this brief, fascinating account of what he heard, saw, and did. Wonderful things did Columbus — a map-maker plying his trade in Lisbon — read in this book, and it is no wonder that he was fascinated by them. He read in it of lands where rubies, diamonds, emeralds, and pearls were in the greatest profusion ; of a country where all the money consisted of plain gold rods, cut into lengths ; of an island where gold was so abundant that the king's palace was roofed with it, and some of the furniture made of it ; of a ■'.•^ ^^4^^:--) THE FRENCH DISCOVERING THE REMAINS OF THE RIBAUT EXPEDITION. STRANGE STORIES. ■ 49 region where spices and drugs, then worth their weight in silver all over Europe, were so cheap that the poorest people had them ; of a seaport from \ which sailed every year a hundred ships laden with spices. Moreover he had previously discovered that these rich countries, filling the eastern parts of the round world, could be reached by sailing to the west ! He found something else in his Marco Polo which, as a Roman Catholic, he was bound to consider of far more importance than worldly wealth. It was that the great Khan of Tartary, who was long the most powerful monarch of Asia, had expressed the strongest possible desire to know more concerning the Christian religion. Such was the Khan's interest in the matter that he had despatched a special embassy to the Pope, asking his Holiness to send him a hundred Chris- tians thoroughly acquainted with the principles of their religion, and qualified to prove its truth by fair argument to the learned men of Tartary. The Khan said that if the Tartar gods were false he wished to know it, and to turn his subjects from their worship. It was further asserted in this book that the embassy had reached the Pope, who had actually sent, not indeed one hundred Christians, but two learned friars, charged with presents to the Khan and authorized to instruct the Tartars in the Christian faith ; and not only that, but to consecrate bishops, arrange dioceses, and do all things in Tartary which the Pope himself could do if he were present there. The two friars had started on their mission, but after proceeding some distance had turned back, discouraged by the perils of the way, and returned to Rome. Two centuries had passed ; the Khan had died long ago, as well as his son and his grandson ; but the mission had never been renewed, and that vast unknown continent of Asia remained "in heathen darkness." All this, besides deeply impressing the imaginative and religious mind of Columbus, furnished him with an irresistible argument when he asked the assistance of Queen Isabella of Spain. When he spoke to King Ferdinand on the subject, no' doubt he dwelt upon the spices, the rubies, and the gold, and of the king whose palace-roof was made of the precious metal ; but when he spoke to the queen, a devoted and enthusi- astic Catholic, we may be sure that he laid the greatest stress upon the story in Marco Polo, of the great emperor who had asked the Pope to send him a hun- dred Christian priests. We may be quite certain that this was the argument which induced the queen to favor the expedition and sell her jewels to pro- mote it. 4 50 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. I do not doubt that Columbus himself fu^ly appreciated the rubies and the gold described by Marco Polo. At the same time the avowed object of the expedition was to convey a knowledge of the Christian religion to the " Prince who is called the Grand Khan, who sent to Rome to entreat for doctors of our Holy Faith!" This was the object stated by Columbus himself in the first p£^ge* of his diary, which began thus: — " In nomine D. N. Jesu Christi ! " (" In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ "). The expedition, therefore, had a religious character ; and Columbus regarded himself in the light, not of a missionary indeed, but as the forerunner of mis- sionaries, and the preparer of the way for them. I wonder he did not have a priest with him. He did not, however, although he carried a notary to take possession of any lands he might discover, in the name of the King and Queen of Spain. All who have read the fascinating narrative of Washingtonlrving remember that the Admiral offered a reward to whomsoever should first discover land. On the nineteenth day of the voyage a voice from one of the vessels, the " Pinta," was heard crying, — " Land ! Land, Senor ! I claim my reward ! " It was Martin Alonzo Pinzon who uttered the joyful cry, pointing at the same time towards the southwest, at a low-lying bank of mist which had deceived him. Columbus, too, was deceived, and threw himself upon his knees to offer thanks. All the crew of the two vessels in advance knelt also, while Pinzon, the sailors, and the Admiral united in chanting, — " Gloria in excelsis Deo ; et in terra pax hominibus bonse voluntatis. Lau- damus te ; glorificamus te," etc. The anxious voyagers soon discovered their mistake, and their spirits sank within them. A second time they were cheered by signs of land. Besides a quantity of fresh weeds they saw fish which they recognized to be of a kind that live hear rocky ledges. They saw also a branch of thorn with berries on it, and picked up a reed, a small board, and, most thrilling of all, a carved staff. Again the crew broke into joyous thanksgiving ; and when the evening came the crews of all the ships sang with peculiar fervor the vesper hymn, to the Vir- gin, — an act which they never omitted during the whole voyage. The transla- tion of this hymn, now in use in Catholic churches, begins thus : — " Gentle star of ocean ! Portal of the sky ! Ever Virgin Mother Of the Lord most high." STRANGE STORIES. 5 I It ends with stanzas peculiarly appropriate to their situation : — " Still, as on we journey, Help our weak endeavor, Till with thee and Jesus We rejoice forever. I " Through the highest heaven To the Almighty Three, Father, Son, and Spirit One same glory be ! " When this hymn had been sung with feelings which we can but faintly ima- gine, the Admiral stood forth and preached a brief but impressive thanksgiving sermon. The ojfiicial history of the expedition mentions that he dwelt particularly upon the circumstance that they had been continually cheered with fresh signs of land, which had increased in frequency and significance the farther they had gone, and the more they needed solace and encouragement. He thought it probable that they would make land that very night, and promised to whomsoever should see it fii'st a velvet doublet in addition to the pension promised by J:heir king and queen. That very evening, soon after twilight had darkened into the tropical night, Columbus himself saw a light glimmering afar off, and at two o'clock the next morning a gun from the " Pinta" announced that land had been descried. On Friday morning, Oct. 12, 1492, Columbus saw before him at a dis- tance of a mile a beautiful level island, covered with trees like an orchard, and full of people, who were seen running out of the woods down to the shore, all naked, gazing at the ships in wonder. Soon the boats were manned, armed, and made ready. The Admiral, clad in scarlet and holding the royal standard of Spain, stepped into his own boat and led the way to the shore, followed by a boat from each of the other vessels, all showing a special banner emblazoned with a green cross, and having on either side the initials of the Spanish sovereigns. The chronicle of the discovery informs us that as the voyagers approached the shores of the New World, they were all charmed with the purity of the air and the beauty of the scene. As soon as Columbus landed, he sank upon his knees, and kissed the soil, shedding tears of joy. As the crews of the other boats came on shore, they all knelt beside and behind the Admiral, and joined him in a Latin prayer, which, it appears, had been previously composed for the occasion, and which, by order of Ferdinand 52 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. and Isabella, was adopted as the form of thanksgiving for all future discoverers. It was used by Pizarro, Cortez, and Balboa : — " Lord God, eternal and omnipotent ! By thy sacred word thou didst create heaven, earth, and sea. Blessed and glorified be thy name; thy majesty be LANDING OF COLUMBUS. praised! Grant aid to thine humble, servant, that thy sacred name may be known and lauded in this other part of the world." Having recited this prayer, Columbus rose to his feet, and all the company gathered round him. He drew his sword, and unfolded the royal standard to the breeze. Then, in the immediate presence of the captains of the vessels and the STRANGE STORIES. 53 notary of the expedition, the sailors who had landed standing near, he took for- mal possession of the new-found land and gave it the name of San Salvador. When this had been done, he required all present to take the oath of obedience to him as representing the sovereigns and wielding their power. During these ceremonies the great crowd of dusky natives stood transfixed with wonder. They were amazed at the whiteness of the Spaniards, at their shining armor, their gorgeous, banners, their splendid garments, and particu- larly the scarlet dress of their chief and his majestic demeanor. They little thought that the coming of these strange men meant misery, bondage, and swift extinction to all their race. Columbus, on his part, never knew that the land he had found was no part of the regions described by Marco Polo. He had discovered a continent, and died without suspecting it. THE GRAVE OF COLON. The genius of Columbus was so universal, and his fame is so world-wide, that it seems almost strange to hear him spoken of as Colon, and find his grave in a Catholic church in Havana. An American is so accustomed to think of Columbus as the grand dis- coverer of the New World — his world — that for a moment he feels quite like resenting the exclusive claim of that not over clean and badly governed city to the custody of his ashes. Columbus — or Christobal Colon, as we must say at Havana, if we wish to be understood — died at Santo Domingo ; Taut his remains were subsequently removed to Havana and interred in the cathedral, where they now repose beneath a pillar within the altar; and properly proud are the Havanese-Spanish families of their great fellow-countryman by adoption, whose last resting-place is with them. Beneath a rather doubtful bust of the great discoverer is a marble tablet set in the pillar, and inscribed with the following characteristic Spanish epitaph in the old-time tongue of Castile : — 54 A ZIGZAG yOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. STATUE OF COLUMBUS. " O, RESTOS Y YMAGEN DEL GRANDE COLON ! MIL SIGLOS DURAD GUARDADO EN LA URNA Y EN LA REMEMBRANZA DE NU- ESTRA NACION." " O remains and likeness of great Columbus ! Let a thousand centuries hold thee, guarded sacredly in thy urn and in the memory of our nation." More correct to life, it is asserted, is the statue of Columbus in the patio of the Captain-General's palace, a few squares below the STRANGE STORIES.. 55 cathedral. This statue is also of marble, life-size, with the right hand pointing to a globe set by the left foot, — that globe which he was persecuted for believing to be round and not flat. The head and face are those of a man forty-five or fifty years of age ; and the countenance indicates a certain pathetic faith and purpose, half buried, and struggling beneath tides on tides of trouble. No one can for a moment look upon that face and believe that the life of this man was a happy one ; rather that he suffered and was weighed down by anxiety from first to last, — from the day he first set forth to raise funds for his ridiculed expedition, to that last hour in Santo Domingo, where his noble life expired under ingratitude and malice. Such a face is a silent and lasting reproach to the age which it looked down upon. To visit the tomb of Columbus was a worthy aspiration for an American boy, and the route suggested for such a journey would tend to show the greatness and results of the inspired Italian's discovery. CHAPTER 11. HOW TO VISIT CUBA.— A ROMANCE OF NORTH CAROLINA. MIGHT be able to secure a steam yacht and take you over the very course of the first voy- age of Columbus." The plan of making an excursion to Havana to visit the tomb of Columbus, going by the way of St. Augustine and the St. John's River, began to haunt Charlie Leland's mind more vividly than ever, and especially the words " St. Salvador Day ! " The words dropped from Mr. Laurens's lips in the hearing of Charlie, and his imagination was at once excited. " What day did you say ? " he asked. " St. Salvador Day. I was remarking that it ought to be made a national holiday." He continued : — " I was saying to your father that the claim is made that the nation needs more holidays. In some States local holidays are made to supply the want. Thus, in certain States of the West, Arbor Day, a festival day of tree-planting, furnishes a delightful holiday in the most inspiring month of the year. Massachusetts has Bunker Hill Day ; New York, New Year's Day. Lincoln's Day is more or less observed locally. Easter Sunday is becoming a church holiday among all HO IV TO VISIT CUBA, ETC. 59 denominations of Christians. The observance of Watch Night as a religious service is becoming every year more common. If more national or local holidays are needed, we certainly have grand historic events to inspire them. Spain recalls her mediaeval glory and maritime triumphs by celebrating St. Salvador Day, or the day when Columbus beheld the New World (October 12). As we are reaping the fruits of the great discovery, the celebration of this day better be- fits us than the land that has lost the provinces of her once great empire ; the praise of Columbus might be well transferred from the South of Europe to the Western World." " St. Salvador Day sounds poetic," said Charlie. " The four hundredth anniversary of the discovery of Columbus (1492-1892) is near; and the event will invite splendid ceremonies in Spain, Portugal, and Italy, and will fix upon the date the attention of the Western World. The celebration in Cuba and the islands of the Antilles will doubtless be splendid and inspiring." "What are the best ways of visiting Cuba.?" asked Charlie. ■ HOW TO VISIT CUBA. '" The most delightful route from the North is by sea by the way of the Bahama Islands, and by land by the ports of Florida. It is well to combine the two routes in the journey. " The Ward line of palace steamers — and there are few more delightful boats on the ocean — sail from New York for Havana weekly, and every other week to Nassau, Bahama, and to Cienfuegos, Cuba. From Cienfuegos there is a short route to Havana by rail. " One of this splendid fleet of steamers calls at St. Augustine for Havana weekly, and from Havana weekly, thus offering one the short and quick sea voyages to and from that port." " What is the expense of such a trip 1 " asked Charlie. " About ^95 to Nassau and return, by steamer from New York 6o A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. to New York, and about |5ioo to Cienfuegos, Cuba, from New York to New York. These rates are for sea routes. " One of the best routes to Cuba is the following, offered by the World Travel Company, for about $106.75 : By Ward line to Havana (including meals and berth), Morgan line to Key West and Tampa, rail and boat to Jacksonville, rail or boat to Savannah or Charles- ton, and steamer back to New York (including meals and berth). Tickets good to stop over. " Cook's ticket rates are about $50 to Havana by steamer, and $90 to Havana and return by sea. " The World Travel Company offers a great number of routes to Jacksonville and return at a uniform rate of about $50. It is but a short distance from Jacksonville to St. Augustine, and it is easy to make a' connection from Jacksonville with Tampa Bay, by the way of the beautiful St. John's River. A most delightful winter trip can be made from Florida by the Ward line of steamers, by going from St. Augustine to Havana, thence by rail across the island of Cuba, by rail by the way of Matanzas to Cienfuegos, and thence returning to New York by the way of Nassau. The fare from Florida by this route is about $116. " Among the World Travel Company routes 'from St. Augustine are the following, with rates at the present, which might vary in the future, but not greatly : — " By Ward line direct to Havana (including meals and berths), and return the same way to St. Augustine, $55. " By Ward line direct to Havana, and return by direct steamer to New York (including meals and berth), $75. " By Ward line direct to Havana, thence Morgan line by the way of Key West and Tampa to New Orleans (including meals and berth on all steamers), $65. " By Ward line direct to Havana, thence Morgan line by the way of Key West and Tampa to New Orleans, and direct rail-route GEORGE II. HOW TO VISIT CUBA, ETC. 63 or Steamer to New York (including meals and berth on all steamers), rail tickets from New Orleans, limited, ^loo. " By Ward line direct to Havana, thence Morgan line by the way of Key West and Tampa to New Orleans, Mississippi River steamer to St. Louis and direct rail-route to New York (including meals and berth on all steamers), rail tickets from St. Louis, limited, #105. " A very satisfactofy excursion could be made to Cuba, including the Bahamas by one route and the St. John's River by another, with hotel fares and all expenses, for about $200. An economical person wl^o would stop at the respectable low-rate hotels might make the trip for ^175 or ^150. " Cook offers a very safe and picturesque route from Boston which he calls the " Land-locked Route to Havana," with fast trains, elegant equipment, by the way of the New York and New England Railroad, Atlantic Coast Line, and Tampa, fifty-two hours rail, and thirty hours on the placid waters of the Gulf of Mexico, leaving Boston at 6.30 p. M. Wednesday, arriving at Havana, Monday morning. Fare from Boston to Havana, $55.75." The story-telling on the next evening turned towards the South. Mrs. Laurens was the leading entertainer. Her first story related to Flora Macdonald, who aided Prince Charles to escape from his enemies, he taking the dress of a woman and the guise of a servant. Flora lived in the Scottish Isles, or Hebrides, and she conducted the prince from the Highlands to the Isle of Skye. She had not been friendly to the prince's cause until she met him. The fate of the prince was at one time in her keeping. She did not meet the fate recorded in Scott's novel, but married and came to America. A ROMANCE OF NORTH CAROLINA. When I was a young girl, and quite wild over the " Waverley Novels," you can fancy my delight at my dear little grandmother's looking up, with her bright brown eyes, and saying, " I knew her, — your beautiful Flora ! " 64 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. "You knew her?" ' " I have sat on her knee, and she once kissed me," said Grandma. " Then it was true about her ? " " In a measure," said Grandma, taking up her knitting again. " The idea of her was true. You might say she sat for the portrait. Her real name, you know, was Flora Macdonald." " Oh, was she like the story .-' " "That I can't quite say. I was so young, I can hardly remember how she looked," said Grandma. " I kept only the sensation that she was something beautiful and grand. I heard them talking about her, and I trembled when she touched, me." " Was she tall and dark and pale, with drooping curls and proud glances ? And did she sing about Highland heroes, and adore Prince Charlie .■'" "A gentleman who was entertained by her in Scotland says she was a little woman, mild and well-bred. The legend of her in North Carolina, where she went to live, is that she was dignified and handsome. As for the rest of your questions, I rather think that at that time she talked of seasickness and the weather during her voyage ; and if she adored anybody, I suppose she adored her husband." " Her husband .'' Why, Flora went into a convent ! " " In the story. In real life she married an officer, and went to live in North Carolina, as I told you before. But she stopped in Nova Scotia, either going or coming ; for it was there she visited my uncle, good old Judge Des Champs, and there I sat upon her knee." " And what was the truth about her. Grandma t " I asked in woful dis- appointment. " Was n't any of the story true ? Tell us, can't you ? Tell us, please now, just how it was." " Well," said Grandma, " you have read about Charles Edward the Pre- tender ? " " Oh, yes, of course. He is the prince in the story." " The prince in the story, and the prince in history. For all that is known of him then, I have no doubt that at that time he was as lovely a gentleman as the prince in the story. His mother was a Sobieski, you know, — an heroic race, long descended from heroes in old Poland ; and he was one of the Stuarts, who had a way of taking all men's hearts. " Gallant and gentle and noble, self-forgetting, dauntless, beautiful, in those early days a superb fellow, people felt that they could die for him, — and die they did. Just think what a career he had in his youth ! In Venice he was received with royal honors. When France was going to invade England at HOW TO VISIT CUBA, ETC. 65 ) a time when England was half unprotected, he was sent for to take command of the army. " He embarked with Marshal Saxe, the greatest soldier of his day ; and the throne of his grandfather was just within his reach, when a furious tempest rose, and raged a week, and sank the vessels, full of troops, to the bottom, and threw him back upon the coast. The French would not try again ; and it was all his friends could do to prevent the prince from setting sail for Scotland alone in a fishing-boat. " When, after a while, he did arrive with his seven friends in Scotland, the clans flocked about him, and he had at first some splendid successes. He 'drew his sword' and 'threw away the scabbard,' as he said, and prepared to invade England. " But at last," said Grandma, after a little pause, " there came an end to all his efforts in the disaster at Culloden, where the field was lost through the sullen pride of the Macdonalds." " Why, how could that be .? " " The Macdonalds, you know, were an' immense clan ; and it happened that they had been placed on the left of the army, but they had claimed it as their right, ever since the service they had done at the battle of Bannockburn, that they should charge on the right ; and so they refused to charge at all, and lost the prince the day. " The poor Chevalier ! What must his wrath and despair have been when he saw so great a cause ruined by so petty a whim .' But at that, he and his adherents fled for their lives ; for they had been defeated, and defeat made them guilty of high-treason, and their lives were the forfeit if they should be captured. "A hundred and fifty thousand dollars was the price set upon the head of the prince by the British Government. Five months he wandered in the wild passes of the Highlands, hiding in caverns, under crags, among the gorse and heather, slipping in a skiff from island to island, starving, perishing with cold, in rags, hunted everywhere, and every pass guarded by the Duke of Cumberland's troops ! " It was only the love of the people, of the common people, which saved him. How they used to sing SOngs about him ! And, a generation later, how I used to sing them myself! " That kiss of Flora Macdonald's made me espouse the cause of the Jaco- bites, as the supporters of the house of Stuart were called. 'Charlie *is my darling, the young Chevalier,' and 'What's a' the steer, Kitpmer.?'' and 'Come o'er the stream, Charlie,' and 'Wha'll be king but Charlie .?' and 'Flora Mac- donald's Lament,' and all the rest." .« S 'A' " €l)e Stamcnt of flora sr^acbonato. m Affeiuoso. H :fi: -&i -=i— p- eg SE^ Tt: — g — « — «^^-S S * — *. — • — '— »^ s — *— s— ^-^ — •— f- ^ Ti-^A-^ ^^ ^E P -i- -i- -8- ^ I ^s zt-fr. H- A- :1=* I ;^iE itzt :SEi= =^ -JuEE^izt dew on her plaid, an' the tear her e'e. She look'd at W- «-^ S» *=d_* — ^ — ; — iz boat wi' the — ^^■»^- te=s=5=i^ii breez - es that swung, A - way on the wave like a bird on the main ; An' ter=p^ ^=q^= -^^^ — K :S :E^^ i-tjr =^= ?^ £ -A^^- :i=S z^\: aye as it lessen'd she sigh'd an' she sung, " Fare-weel to the lad I shall ne'er see a gain, P'are - The moorcock that crows on the brows o' Ben-Connal, He kens o' his bed in a sweet mossy hame ; The eagle that soars o'er the cliffs o' Clan-Ronald, Unawed and unhunted his eyrie can claim ; The solan can sleep on the shelve of the shores, The cormorant roost on his rock of the sea. But, ah, there is one whose hard fate I deplore, Nor house, ha', nor hame in his country has he ; The conflict is past, and our name is no more, There 's nous;ht left but sorrow for Scotland an' me The target is torn from the arm of the just. The helmet is cleft on the brow of the brave, The claymore forever in darkness must rust. But red is the sword of the stranger and slave ; The hoof of the horse ai)d the foot of the proud Have trode o'er the plumes on the bonnet of blue. Why slept the red bolt in the breast of the cloud When tyranny revell'd in blood of the true? Farew-el, my young hero, the rallant and good ! The crown of thy fathers is torn from thy hv w. 68 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. " I will sing you one of these old songs," said Mrs. Laurens. " It may help to give interest to the story.'' "That song stirs my old blood now," continued Grandma. "Well, it happened that Flora was on a visit in the neighborhood of one of his hiding-places. It was proposed, all other ways having failed, that the prince should put on the clothes of some woman, and be passed off as her waiting- maid, — he had already played the part of servant to Malcolm McLeod. " It was a daring undertaking, with all the scrutiny the British watch-dogs never dropped a minute. The officer from whom Flora had to obtain a pass- port was Flora's father-in-law. He had no idea what he was doing when he gave her a safe conveyance for herself, her young escort, Neil Macdonald, Betty Bourke, a stout Irishwoman, and some others. " Betty Bourke was the prince ; and it must have been a great trial to a modest and timid young girl to carry out such an imposition, but she was rewarded by the love of a whole people. They sailed for the Isle of Skye one bright June day. " When they landed, they went to the house of the Laird of Sleite, which was full of hostile soldiers eager in the search for the royal prize ; and Flora told her secret to the kind lady of the house, who straightway helped her along on her way home to Kingsburg. " And she at last saw the prince safely through ; and his last words to her were : 'Farewell, gentle, faithful maiden ! May we meet again in the Palace Royal ! ' " Young Neil Macdonald followed him to France, and his son became by and by one of Napoleon's marshals. But great was the anger of the British Government when it was found that Charles Edward had escaped. "They knew the thing could only have been managed by a woman ; sus- picion fell on Flora, and she was arrested, together with Malcolm McLeod and others, carried on board of a man-of-war, and changed from one vessel to another, until she had been nearly a year on shipboard, before being taken to London and thrown into prison to stand a trial for high-treason. " How cruel for the brave, sweet girl! But her youth, her beauty, her cour- age, began to create what you might call a reaction in her favor, especially as she had not previously been on the prince's side, either in respect to his claims to the throne or his religion. "The king himself — it was George II.— asked her how she dared save the enemy of his crown and kingdom, and she replied, — " ' I only did what I would do for your Majesty in the same condition, — I relieved distress.' " And it all ended by their sending her home with. Malcolm McLeod. It p i \ 'm e^c/y/fl- CHARLES EDWARD. HOW TO VISIT CUBA, ETC. 71 was about four years afterward that she married Allan Macdonald. It seems, when you hear her story, as if half the people of Scotland were Macdonalds. "In 1775, being in some trouble for money, and hearing how well his country-people who had emigrated were getting along there, Allan Macdonald followed them to North Carolina ; and there he settled with his wife at Fayette- ville, where the ruins of their house may yet be seen, I believe, unless recently removed. " The vast difference between the chills and mists of the Scotqh Highlands and the balmy air in which she found herself, I should think must have been very striking to Flora ; she must have enjoyed the wonderful fruits and flowers at what seemed to her untimely seasons, and in the coldest months the great wood-fires furnished by the pitchy forests, — that still seem inexhaustible, I am told. "They only lived a little while in Fayetteville, before they moved to Cameron Hill, twenty miles distant. They had no sooner established them- selves there than the Revolution began. It must have seemed to Flora as if a state of rebellion and warfare were the natural state of man, or as if she were fated never to escape it. " The chief of the Macdonald clan among the North Carolina emigrants had been given, whether through policy or not, a commission as general in the British King's army. The Stuart struggle being over and done with, there probably appeared to him no reason why he should not take it. He summoned all loyal Highlanders to meet under his standard, and march with him to join General Clinton. " They did so, fifteen hundred strong, but were met by the rebels against King George, — and in no State was the feeling that led to our independence more ardent than in North Carolina, — and Caswell and Moore routed them in a desperate fight ; and among those taken prisoners was Flora's husband. " When Captain Macdonald was at last released, his land was confiscated, his property gone, his hopes shattered ; and he took his wife and shipped for Scotland. It was on the way home, in this British ship, that they encountered a French frigate ; and of course there was a sea-fight. "But Flora Macdonald did not go below then, and spend her time between screaming and praying, as some women might have done. She stayed on deck through the whole action, binding up wounds, encouraging and helping, and presently she had her arm broken for her pains. " 'I have hazarded my life,' she said, 'for the House of Stuart and for the House of Hanover ; and I do not see that I am a great gainer by either of them.' 72 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. " But she was satisfied in having the French frigate beaten, and she reached Scotland at length in safety. She must have been a woman of iron nerves, I think. She had five sons, all of whom were soldiers. And when she died at last, her shroud was made of the sheets in which the Prince Charles Edward had slept at Kingsburg. " You see, if you have your story of Lady Arabella Johnson here, they have quite as good a one of their Flora Macdonald down in the old North State, which, perhaps you may not know, claims to be the first of the thirteen on whose shores the English landed, and the first in which the old Colonists threw off the British yoke." THE EMIGRANT'S HOUSE IN THE CLEARING. "You spoke," said Charlie Leland to Mr. Laurens, ''of the stories of the old slave cabins. I have read 'Uncle Remus' and the 'Dialect Stories ' by Sherwood Bonner. -Could we not have a story of that class .? " " I am not prepared to-night, or such a story does not now occur to ARREST OF CHARLES EDWARD. NOIV TO VISIT CUBA, ETC. 75 me. Perhaps Mrs. Laurens may have some such incidents in mind. I will try to recall some of the cabin tales for some other occasion." " I recall one of my experiences on making a change of residence in the South," said Mrs. Laurens. " It happened in my girlhood. It might give you a characteristic picture of the negro rnind and habits before the war. Father had moved into a new district on the Mississippi, and up to that period I and my sister Del had seen little of the colored people of the country, but only the servants of the best New Orleans families." "DUN COME TO SEE Y' ALLS." ,For the first week or two we got on very well. Papa and the boys were planting our little garden and tinkering up things generally. After that they_ went off every morning to the outskirts of the claim, and worked at clearing up the boundary lines and felling trees for fence rails. And so day after day, and week after week, we were left alone all day long in the silence.- "Oh, that silence ! " exclaimed Del. Indeed, it was almost beyond endurance. The sun shone silently in the far-off sky ; the clouds floated silently above us ; the grass grew silently at our feet ; all around us the tall trees stood in solemn silence. A sense of unutterable loneliness pervaded the air. Nothing . we could do seemed to disenchant the terrible solitude. We busied ourselves with our household duties ; we read, and practised our music lessons, — papa had sent out a melodeon for us from Little Rock, — and we fed the cow and pigs apd chickens and dogs until it was a wonder they didn't burst; but for all our efforts the days seemed to have the length of weeks, and the insupportable loneliness only increased with each succeeding weeli Neighbors we had none. We were just surrounded by miles and miles of forest in every direction. Of course, papa and the boys made things a bit lively for us in the evenings and early mornings, but somehow the days only seemed more desolate and the silence more intolerable after they were gone. Sometimes I wonder Del and I did n't turn into wooden girls or raving maniacs. But one day when we had exhausted every resource of occupation, we 76 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY. IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. concluded to drown our sorrows in forgetfulness, if possible ; and although it was nearly five o'clock, and pretty nearly time to prepare supper, we lay our- selves down and deliberately went to sleep. I was awakened by Del shaking me, and whispering in a frightened voice that there was a knocking at the door. Sure enough, there was a steady knock, knock, knock ! I sprang to my feet, bolted the door, and called out, " Who 's there .-' " "'T ain't no pusson jis' 'cep' us chilluns," came the quick response, in unmistakable accent. " Us chilluns dun come to see y' alls." Del just danced up and down. " For mercy sake. Dodo," she said, " do open that door some time to-day, and let them in ! " You can't think how excited we were. The bare idea of company, no matter of what sort, so it was friendly, made the blood bound in our veins ;' and I could feel my heart beat as I slid back the bolt to welcome our un- expected guests. " Where in the world did you come from ? " cried Del, as soon as the open door revealed " us chilluns " to our view. " Ki, missy ! " giggled the largest of the five, " us chilluns dun bin gwine a-nuttin' an' a*'simmonin', an' we 's dat fur f m home der ain't no use in ebber studyin' 'bout gittin' back dar dis day. We dun heerd y' alls bin libbin' hyah, so we jis' goed fur to come fer to see ye." " Well, do come in,'' said Del, delightedly, taking the girl by the hand and drawing her into the room. " Come in, children. Are n't you tired 1 Where do you live .'' Who are you .■' " " Laws, missy ! " answered the girl, who seemed to be about fifteen years old. " We lib wid Uncle Ben an' mammy down to de Fawks, jis' apast de Brainch. 'Corse we'se tired, dun trabbled dat fur dis yer day. We'se jis' us chilluns. We dun heerd 'bout y'alls. My laws! Ain't dis yer fine.-"' She stood wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, gazing around the room. Del gave the children seats, and asked them if they were hungry. This aroused the big girl, and she turned on the children, — " No, yo' is n't hungry. Yo' dar say yo'se hungry. Yo' Meriky ! Yo' Moffy Jane ! Yo' Usly Ann ! Yo' Pinky Boodle ! Yo' jis' dar say yo'se hungry ! " " Dell law ! Bobry, yo'se hungry yo'se'f," retorted the one whom she had designated as Meriky. " Yo' dun say yo'se'f, jis' outside de do', as how yo' specs dem white folks — " "Yo' shet yo' sassy mouf, yo' Meriky," interrupted Bobry, charging upon Meriky, who dodged behind Moffy Jane,, upse'tting her and Pinky Boodle, who HOIV TO VISIT CUBA, ETC. . -jj in her turn set up a lusty howl, having bumped her nose against the sharp corner of a cricket. " Now, looky heah, Bobry," put in Usly, — she of the solemn countenance, — " yo' don' go for to upsetting de chilluns dat ar way when yo' go for to see white pussons. Jis' yo' take a cheer an' sot down, jis' like missy tole yo'." Del just acted like a crazy girl. She kept saying, " O Dodo ! is n't it too funny ? Did you ever see anything so charming ? Don't let them go away. Let's keep them, every one." I picked up Moffy Jane from her tangle of chairs, comforted Pinky Boodle, and gave them all the promise of a good supper. Then while Del went to the pantry to open a can of peaches, I questioned the children a bit more leisurely. Bobry subsided sufficiently to inform me that " mammy dun lib in de cabin down to de Fawks ; an' Uncle Ben, he 's pap, he dun bushin' in de clarin'," by which felicitous phrase she meant to convey the fact of her father's employment at fencing in with brush his bit of cleared land. ■ " We 'se dun got heap o' crop dis year, we is ; and us chilluns dun gwine fotch y' alls some sweet-tater squashes nex' time we comes. Is yo' got heap o' 'simmons .■" " " Not many," I answered, explaining that the persimmon trees grew at some distance from our house, and that we did not often go into the woods. "Is you got/^^-cons .■' " was her next inquiry. I told her we had very few. " Pee-con trees on de Brainch, — heaps ob 'em. Us chilluns gwine fotch yo' some dem, too," she said. After a moment she inquired, — " What is yo' got ? " By this time I began to comprehend that Bobry's proffered generosity ought to meet with some return, so I hastened to answer, — " Oh, we have some raisins. I 'II give you some to eat with your pecans." " Dell law ! " exlaimed Bobry, " Meriky, Usly, yo' heah dat ? Missy dun got ressuns !" And the five grinned in unison. Just then Del came in with saucers and spoons, and dished out the canned peaches, adding a huge slice of currant cake to each saucer of fruit. Every one of those young ones said, "Tankee, missy," in one and the same breath, and then fell to devouring the cake and peaches, while Del sat and looked on as pleased as any two-year-old baby with five new dolls. "You can't go home to-night, children," said Del;/" the Branch is ten miles from this place." "Dell law!" cried Bobry.' ^'Dat's sho ! 'Clar' I fought it was hunnerd 78 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. miles, Pinky Boodle poke 'long wuss 'n a pole-cat. Is yo' got any co'n meal for make de good hoe cake for y' alls an' us chilluns ? " " Oh, yes, indeed," said Del,. " and flour too, and lots of nice things you never get. Oh, you shall have the best kind of a supper. Now tell us v\?hat you can do. Sing .■■ Dance .'' Do something, if you can." At this the grave and severe Usiy rose to her feet, and took a position in the middle of the roorn. Rolling her eyes in a wonderful manner, she began to sing, hopping first on one foot, then on the other, in a jerky fashion, keeping time, however, to her tune, which she sang to words like these, — " Nigger gwine fer to eat good grease, Hoo-dah ! hoodah ! Possum fat, hog liver, chicken-foot grease, Hoo-dah ! hoodah ! hoo ! " Kink up de wool, nigger, fling out de toe, ShufHe up de pigeon-wing — cut, jis' so ! Hoodah ! hoodah ! hoodah ! hoodah ! Hoo-dah ! hoo ! " Nothing more comical could well be imagined than this preternaturally solemn-faced young one, cutting around that cabin floor in such grotesque manner. In the middle of this song Papa and the boys came home to supper. " Heigh-ho ! " said Papa, " what is all this .' Where did you raise your minstrel troupe .' " He looked astonished enough, too ; and the boys, — well, they took the whole thing in at a glance, and how they did laugh at us ! Well, I never could tell you of the rare fun we had that evening, cooking and serving the supper. But the most curious exhibition came after supper, when Bobry gave us her experience. We had family worship immediately after the supper-things were disposed of, and the room tidied ; and I hope you won't misunderstand me when I confess that my enjoyment of that domestic service exceeded anything I had ever experienced. It differed in kind more than in degree, perhaps ; for at the end of every petition, as my father prayed, Meriky uttered a dismal groan, and Usly and Moffy Jane both cried out, " Ya-as, dat 's sho." And every now and again Bobry would pipe out in the shrillest voice, "Amen! Oh, glory!" I assure you that although this was the shortest prayer I ever knew Papa to offer, yet certainly it was the one that met with the heartiest response from those who worshipped with him. HOW TO VISIT CUBA, ETC. 79 When Papa and the bo)rs went out to look after the cattle, Bobry volun- teered her experience, and I tell it because it shows a common phase of reli- gious life among the negroes. Said she, talking through her nose in a most unnatural twang, — " Sistering, ef yo' dun say de wuhd, I gibs yo' my 'sperience." "What's that?" said Del. " Dat my 'sperience, missy. Dat de way I dun got dat 'ligion." " Do tell us about it." And thus she began : — " Ye see I 'se sich a pow'ful sinnah ! I dun seek 'ligion, an' seek 'ligion. Cain't find him nowhars. Folks say, ' Yo' go down in de valleys, yo' Bobry, — go down dem deep valleys, — dar yo' gets shet dem sins, — dar yo' gets 'ligion, po' sinnah.' " Dell law ! I dat wickid I could n't fin' dem valleys. " Den one night I wake up, an' I rise out de bed in de middle ob it, an' I mawches out in de wile woods, kase I ain't gwine cum back no mo' tell I finds dem valleys whar dey gits 'ligion, I says. " O missy, I mawched straight to dem valleys, an' dar I see big white angel a-standin'. " ' What yo' want, yo' Bobry ? ' he say. " ' Oh, good golly ! Marse angel,' I say, ' I 'se dat onregenrit I 'se dun bifi seekin' 'ligion.' 1 " ' Yo' see dat pit ob fiah, Bobry ? ' he say. " Den fo' I cotch my bref he dun grab po' Bobry by de froat an' hole her ober de pit. " Ki ! how de flames roll up an' de smoke po' out ! ' Yo' see dat smoke .' ' de angel say. " Den he jis' chuck po' Bobry up an' down, up an' down, in dat smoke an' ober dem flames. Den de angel say, — " ' Dis yer torment waiting for all sich as yo' is. Yo' g' 'long an' git dat 'ligion now, fo' sho. None o' yo' foolin'. G' 'long an' find dem feastin' tables ef yo' don't want be drap in dis torment.' " O missy, I dai skeered ! I prayed de Lawd, ' O Lawdy Mussy, O Mussy, Mussy, Lawd,' all de way up dem valleys ; an' sho 's yo' baun, all on a sudden dar peared dem feastin' tables way high up in de a'r. " Bobry dun feasted on glory ! Bobry dun eat an' drink he'self chock plum full ob dat 'ligion ! Oh, what I gwine keep my mouf shet fo' ? When de Lawd sot me free, yo' spose he sot me free fo' be a dumb chile .-' Oh, I 'se free, I 'se free, an' I ain't ho dumb chile." 8o A ZIGZAG JOURISTeY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. "I should think not," said Del, who was half shocked at the strange exhibition. At that moment Papa returned. " There is a wagon of some kind coming down the road," said Papa. " I should n't wonder if these children's people were in search of theni." Sure enough, the sound of creaking wheels could be heard, and the dogs set up a fearful barking, and in the midst of the din we heard a man's voice shouting, — 'us CHILLUNS.' " Hallo ! Mostah ! " Papa opened the door; and there, perched up on the front seat of the funniest httle old cart, drawn by a skinny mule, sat the queerest-looking pair, — Uncle Ben and Mammy, we knew at a glance. "Good eben, mostah," squeaked the man. "Is you dun seed dem chilluns .' " " Dar dey is," screamed the woman, who caught a glimpse of them through the open door. " Yo' Bobry ! ef I don't peel de hide off yo' ! " now TO VISIT CUBA, ETC. 8 1 " Scuse me, mostah," spoke up Uncle Ben. "Dem's my chilluns ; dey dun run away. Dey de mose onreasonic^. Ole 'oman an' me bin dribin' ebber sence fo' clock, clar frum de Brainch, arter dem chilluns." " Here they are, all safe," said Papa ; " but you can't take them home to-night, so you'd better alight and come in. We'll contrive to take cAre of you and your family and beast for the night, I reckon." But Uncle Ben couldn't be persuaded. He "wan't used, like, ter leavin' de cabin an' dem dogs all night by derselves." Del began to coax the old mammy to come in and stay, and assured her that we had enjoyed the children's visit, and added, " Particularly Bobry's experience, which she has just given us." " Now yo' '11 cotch it," said the solemn Usly, turning to Bobry. You ought to have seen that woman as she listened to Del. " Bobry dun gub yo' dat 'sperience .■" Bobry ! g' 'long climb in dat kyaht. I '11 bust yo' head, yo'. Dat ar ain't Bobry's 'sperience, missy ; dat onregenrit nigga jis' stoled dat' sperience. Laws, missy, dat Bobry ain't got no 'ligion. Nebber did hab. Dat my 'sperience she dun bin gub yo'. She hyar me tole it in the 'sperience meetin', and den she pick it up an' say it her one. " Moffy Jane, climb in dat kyaht. Meriky, is yo' in dar 1 I 'se dat 'bleeged to y' alls, mostahs an' missys, fur keepin' dem yer sassy chilluns ; an' ef ebber dey comes 'roun' a-pesterin' y' alls ag'in, I 'se be pow'ful 'bleeged to yo' ef yo' sets dem dogs onto 'em. Dat '11 fix 'em. Ain't dat so. Uncle Ben } " Uncle Ben answered with a great haw-haw in his funny, squeaky voice, and the little mule with its comical load started off just as our clock struck ten. I reckon they got to the Forks about breakfast-time next morning, but I don't know. We never heard of any of them again. We lived on the memory of that visit, however, for weeks. CHAPTER III. THE OLD RED SETTLE AND AN EVENING OF MERRY PROVINCIAL STORIES. ?HEN the Club came together on the next evening, a part of the members were much surprised at finding a quaint-looking piece of furniture on the piazza. It was old, worm-eaten, high-backed, and painted red, — an odd kind of settee, with a colonial look about it. " This is an interesting piece of furniture, evidently," said Mr. Laurens. " What do you call it ? " " That is a settle," said the Widow Endicott, with good- humored dignity. " It excites my curiosity," said Mrs. Laurens. " May I ask how it came here ? " " I brought it here from the garret. Every house of note used to have a red settle in colony times, and most stories in those days were told upon it." The settle now began to be examined by the people on the piazza. The Widow continued : — " Most of the stories of old times related to ghosts and Indians, or people who had sold their souls to the Evil One. They had no fairy stories ; such stories would have been regarded as wicked. " The old red settle used to be set before the open fire. The fireplaces were enormous. They were furnished with great back-logs THE OLD RED SETTLE AND PROVINCIAL STORIES. 83 and fore-sticks ; and in the long evenings the fires were fed with seasoned wood. The workpeople and the children used to s^t upon ^ the settle ; and the story-teller, who was sometimes an old man or an old woman, or the bachelor member of the family, or the schoolrnaster, or even the minister, would take the end seat, and turning half around so as to face the others, would assume a very mysterious look, THE OLD RED SETTLE. and relate such horrible accounts of haunted houses as would take the wink out of the eyes of the listeners, and fix them in one stone- like stare. Sometimes the story-teller would be a sailor ; if so, his tale would be like Nix's Mate, the old tar who was falsely accused and hung, and who caused the green island to die in Boston Harbor. The dead island is there yet. You need n't laugh. 84 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. " The fire would at times flame up during the telHng of the narra- tive, and its Hght would fall upon the white faces and staring eyes. I do think that it was wicked to tell such stories to children. I used to go to bed after hearing them, and cover up my head with the blankets, and shake at every sound I heard in the room. One night the cat jumped upon my bed, and I came very near having a fit, for I thought that the cat was a witch. Witches were said to turn into cats, — black ones. " I happened to see the old settle in my garret to-day among the rubbish, and I thought it would be just the article of fiarniture for story-telling, — kind of inspiring. Oh, the lies that have been told upon that settle ! " " But were all settles painted red ? " asked Mrs. Laurens. " Yes, they were all painted red." " But why red ? " " I do not know, — the question is too deep for me ; for, the same reason, I suppose, that chimneys were painted red and blinds green." The settle would hold seven persons comfortably, and so the whole Club were seated upon it. The story-telling took a light turn, which was suggested by a remark by Mrs. Laurens. " There are several things," said she, " that I have noticed about your farms that seem to me peculiar. One is the quaint scarecrows in the corn-fields; another, the open barns with their fragrant hay- lofts ; and the last, the stone ovens for shell-fish in the orchards. The cool barns with their open doors and new hay, and the swallows flitting in and out, have a real charm that recalls the old English pastoral poetry; but the stone ovens on the ground, the shell-fish dinners in the orchards, and the quaint people who watch and tend the stone ovens with such anxious care, are incidents of life hereto- fore unfamiliar to me." These remarks led Old Felix, the farmer, to relate a rather amusing THE OLD RED SETTLE AND PROVINCIAL STORIES. 85 tale of the summer woods and fields, — about a character that figures greatly in New England country life, but not often in story-books, poems, or fiction. A STORY OF THE OLD NEW ENGLAND SCARECROW. " Caw ! caw ! caw ! " " Whoa ! " said Farmer Tolley. The team stopped. Farmer Tolley leaned on the plough-handle, and looked up to a clear space in the sky, which was as cerulean as a sea. " Caw ! caw ! caw ! " , There were ' light clouds drifting across the blue expanse, driven by the warm western winds ; and between the earth and sky there was flying a dark object, — a solitary crow. " Caw ! caw ! caw ! " " Yes, I hear ye," said Farmer Tolley. " Come to pull up my corn this year before it is planted. I know you of old. I declare it is too bad ! Go ' lang ! '' Not far from the field where the farmer was ploughing was a swamp. In winter, when it was frozen and '" sledding " was good, the farmers worked there, cutting their summer's wood. But as soon as spring came, it was a miry bog. The great trees rise as from countless mossy islands. No one could penetrate it after April during the warm season, except when there was a drought. In this watery solitude, in the tops of the tall pines, the crows made their nests. Farmer Tolley glanced up from the neat furrow the plough was turning, to see where the dark object was going. The black sails of the pirate of the air swept before the warm winds towards the pines in the deepest bogs of the swamp. " I declare it is too bad ! " reiterated the farmer. " Too bad ! Just like your relations waitin' round fer your property before you die. Go ' lang ! " At the end of the furrow the farmer stopped his team, and went to the well- sweep in the dooryard for some water. While the well-pole was descending, his wife came to the door. " Sophia, what do you think.' I've seen that crow again." "Sho! You don't say so, Pelicki'" (Farmer Tolley's Christian name was Peleg.) " Sure as you 're alive, I have ! " 86 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. " Do you think, Pelick, it was tke same one ? " Yes ; he knew me, and spoke to me from the sky, just as though I had been one of the old prophets, and he 'd been sent to try my patience. Blast him, it is too bad ! " ' Do you think it was the same one that pulled your corn so last year, Pelick ? " " The same one, Sophia. Pulled the whole field up, so that I had to plant it all over ag'in, — when I had gone away to the Four Days' Meetin', and as a delegate too ! I sha'n't go»this year, if they elect me. That crow did me well- nigh on to fifty dollars' damage, — I don'tknow but a hundred." Farmer Tolley tipped the bucket on the stone well-curb. " Don't you want I should bring you out the dipper, Pelick, or a tumbler, or somethin' .-' " " No, I can use the bucket just as well." " Well, Pelick, I don't know what you '11 do." Peleg went back to his team. The note of the bluebirds fluted through the mild air ; the woodpecker tapped the trees ; a flock of wild geese, honking, sailed along the sky ; the fields and woods were full of pleasant sounds, that told that the season was changing ; and Farmer Tolley would have been happy but for the warning voice of that terrible crow. That evening, after milking and doing the chores, he sat down by the fire — for the evenings were yet somewhat long and cool — and took up the agri- cultural journal. " Pelick," said his good wife, " what do you think I found ? There 's a piece in that paper about crows." " Where, Sophia .-' " " Let me take the paper, and I will find it for you. There, Pelick ! " Farmer Tolley adjusted his spectacles, and began to read. The cat climbed into his lap, and rubbed against the paper with a faint mew. " You get down, puss ! Let me read this. Sophia ! Sophia, I say ! It says here, Professor Solomon, one of these great professors that arranges the planets and all them things, I suppose — it says he says, Sophia, that the crow never alights beneath an object of which he is afraid. Just you listen a moment : ' It is a fact well known to ornithologists that a crow never alights beneath any object of which it is afraid. Hence scarecrows should be erected high in the air, like barrels on tall poles, etc. The New England custom of stringing the field is for this reason very effective.' Stands to reason that is so, Sophia. Folks are discoverin' almost everything now-a-days." THE OLD RED SETTLE AND PROVINCIAL STORIES. 87 Farmer Tolley stroked the cat. He was a very guileless, tender-hearted man. It must have been a very mean kind of a crow to have pulled his corn, when he had "gone away to the Four Days' Meetin' as a delegate, too ! " After the bluebirds came the robins ; after the robins, the martins ; after the martins, the orioles ; and then it was planting-time. One day, when Farmer Tolley was industriously dropping corn and rejoicing in the sunshine, a black shadow swept across the row, like a partial eclipse, and his feet were arrested by a familiar voice, — " Caw ! caw ! caw ! " " You black wretch ! " said Farmer Tolley. " I '11 fix you. You go along with your caw-caw-cawin' ! Wait till I get up my scientific scarecrow ! That will make your eyes stick out. You won't do as ye did last year when I set up ray straw man. Kept a-coiriin' a little nearer and a little nearer and a little nearer, and finally, one damp day, you dropped down and lit upon his head. But I 've got ye this year ! There's nothin' that s like science." The peach-boughs reddened with blossoms, the pear-trees became white as snow. Then the orchard burst into bloom, like hills of roses. There were burning bushes in all the roadsides and pastures. Then planting-time was over. The bobolinks came, and the tender blades of corn began to form geometri- cal lines in the brown fields. Just at this time, when there were damask mornings, and dewdrops on every leaf and blade of grass, and the clover was incense, and the roses were filling, as cups with wine, a wonder appeared in Bonneyville, such as the oldest inhabitant had never seen. 5 It was in Farmer Tolley's corn-field. In the middle of the said field there was a rock. It was on this rock that the wonder appeared. It consisted of the figure of a man, or rather of a giant, as though one of the champions of the aboriginal races had come back to behold the advances that science was making in the world. The efSgy held in its hand a tall pole, and on the top of the pole was an open umbrella. ' The farmer had set up this effigy one day at nightfall ; it was on the evening of the first day that he discovered that his corn was beginning to break through hills. On the morning after this gigantic apparition was made to lift up its umbrella thus high in the air. Farmer Tolley rose early, and took his milking-pails, and went out to milk his four thrifty cows. But the thought of his scarecrow, con- structed after Professor Solomon's plan, so excited his curiosity that he put 88 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. down his pails, and walked briskly towards the corn-field. He sat down there under a tree by the wall, and viewed with satisfaction and amazement the creation of his own hands which loomed above the sprouting field under the protecting umbrella. The crow was also up early. From the far-off pine-tops in the inaccessible bogs there came an exclama- tion of wonder. " Caw ! caw ! caw !" with a flapping of glossy wings. " Haw ! haw ! haw ! " said the farmer, slapping his hands on his knees ; " so you see it, do ye } I can take a little rest after plantin' time this year, thanks to Professor Solomon. Haw ! haw ! haw ! " When the neighbors saw the apparition, they also, as well as the crows, were greatly surprised. They stopped by the bars to look at it. Horses saw it from the road and were frightened. The selectmen met and talked about it. Was it safe.' It might cause a skittish horse to run, or take the senses away from some nervous woman or child. The sagacious farmer's corn came up well, and rejoiced in the sunshine of the glowing days. The farmer surveyed it with pride, and the crow with envy from afar off. When the ill-omened bird flew over that field, he flew high, as though, seized by a better inspiration, he was ascending towards the sun. A third or fourth morning after the giant. with the lofty umbrella had been placed upon the rock, Farmer Tolley again visited his field. The crow also had -made a short excursion in that direction, and was contemplating the giant from a tree on the edge of the swamp. " Caw ! caw ! caw ! " he called, as he saw the farmer crawling through the bars of the promising field. " You don't say so ! " said the farmer. " Got along as far as you dare to, have n't ye .■■ You see it, don't ye 1 How that corn is comin' up ! " The next morning brought to the farmer a further surprise. On going to the field, he found that the crow had arrived there before him, and was survey- ing the greenery from a tall white birch that rose from a corner in the wall. The farmer stopped short when he first saw the black object swaying in the wind from the lithe top of the white-birch tree. He was thinking at that time of the wonderful advancement that knowledge was making in fields of discov- ery and in ascertaining the real relations of things, and he was rather humil- iated at the suspicion that the crow also might have become a scientist and be making progress as well. In these days of advancing knowledge the good parson called to see Peleg with an important message. THE OLD RED SETTLE AND PROVINCIAL STORIES. 89 " I 've been talking with the~ committee, Peleg, and they are unanimous that you shall go as the delegate to the June meeting this year. You had a rather hard experience last year, on account of that crow ; but Deacon Holden says that he will get his little boy to watch your field this year. He thinks that he cannot go, anyhow." " I shall not need any one to watch my field this year, parson. I have been studying science, and I have set up a contrivance that would terrify the boldest servant of the Prince of the power of the air — I mean, figuratively, that crow. Go out to field with me, Parson, and I will show you one of the most wonderful sights that you ever set eyes on ! All the neighbors are talking about it!" The parson and Farmer Tolley passed through the orchard towards the field. The flaky apple-blossoms drifteij upon the breeze and whitened the emerald turf. " This is a wonderful age in which we are living, Parson ; steam-cars and telegraphs and balloons and pumps and things. There is one thing. Parson, that you can always trust, and — that — is — Science ! " The corn-field came into view with the colossal image erected to science under the aegis of the lofty umbrella. " There, Parson, what do you think of that ? " " Caw ! caw ! caw! " " Massy, Parson ! where did that crow fly from .? Rose right up out of the ground, like. Let 's go and see if anything has touched the corn." The geometry of the field was found to be perfect at every point. " Peleg," said the parsop, " science has many sides to it. You cannot trust a new principle of science until you know the whole of it and it is wholly proven. There are discoveries and discoveries." ' " The principle of this discovery," said Peleg, " is that no crow ever alights underneath an object of which it is afraid. Now, any crow would be afraid of such an object as that, it stands to reason. That's so. Parson, every time. Therefore that there field is just as much protected and just as safe as though there was never a crow in all the wide world. That 's what you would call logic, Parson." " Yes, Peleg ; but in these great logical questions one wants to be sure that his premises are correct. That crow knows more than you think he does, Peleg, and I would not leave a field of mine like that without watching at this time of year, without I was perfectly sure that my science and logic were perfectly cor- rect. I would n't put any man's theory against that crow. He may have a theory of his own before you get back, Peleg. When a crow gets over being scared at an object, he becomes wonderfully tame and bold. My father once had a tame crow that would steal his shoe-strings out of his shoes when he was eating go A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. at the table. Theories are good things to work by, Peleg ; but a man is account- able for the exercise of his common-sense. ' Prove all things,' the wise man said. Science is not science, and logic is not logic, unless you're sure." Peleg and Sophia went to the June meeting. On the morning before Peleg started for this gathering of excellent, thrifty, well or- dered people, which was ap- pointed to take place in a little white church on the green of a neighboring town. THE SCARECROW. he walked proudly over the corn-field, which had become like a rippling sea of green. The thrushes were singing in the woods, and the robins in the orchards and dooryard trees. THE OLD RED SETTLE AND PROVINCIAL STORIES. 91 " There is music everywhere," said Peleg. A dreadful discord broke upon, or rather into, the choral harmonies of the woods and orchards and ancestral trees. * " Young crows, I do believe," said Peleg, — "a whole family of them ; almost grown up, too. How lucky I am to have a scarecrow like that ! " The June meeting proved delightful to Peleg and Sophia. There was noth- ing selfish in Peleg's soul, and he related to several farmers who were delegates the achievements of science as illustrated by his wonderful scarecrow. The day of his return was rainy. He remarked to Sophia that they had need of the umbrella which was protecting the giant in the corn-field. The ' latter certainly stood in no danger of rheumatism, or catarrh. " Never mind, Peleg," said Sophia ; " it is doin' great service where it is " Immediately on his return, Peleg visited the corn-field. He stopped at the bars. The crow did not greet him from the tree-tops, but, could it be ? there was a black gulf in the sea of green. It was near the wonderful giant, who was still holding the open umbrella boldly above his head. The crow had surely been at work there. Farmer Tolley walked slowly towards the desert in the late beautiful expanse. It was raining very hard. As he approached the vacant space, his feet were arrested by a sound that made his lower jaw fall and his knees tremble. It came from the umbrella. " Caw ! caw ! caw ! " Could it be .■" Qut from under the umbrella darted a dreadful object with wings like night, wildly ejaculating, " Caw ! caw ! caw ! " The farmer paused. " I never ! " There was a commingling of Plutonian sounds inside of the umbrella, — a wail as from an orphan- asylum. Presently out flew a young crow. Then another ! And another ! And a fourth ! They followed their mother, making a long, solemn procession through the windy, watery air. The poor things had lost their umbrella, but not their mother. Farmer Tolley' stood like one petrified. The collapse of science and logic and theory all in a moment, as it were, seemed to him like the blowing away of the world on which his feet qf faith were planted. But he had not been gain- ing will power during the June meeting to fall into a passion on the very day of his return. He recalled, too, what his prudent parson had said about not 92 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. being over-confident in a theory unless you are sure that all the premises are correct and well proved. He only said mildly, — "I'll tell Sophia of that." And he added philosophically, — " When one plan does not work well, I 've always noticed that the best way is to try another." The next day the farmer removed the giant and the tall umbrella from the corn-field. On the morning after the disappearance of the airy knight, a very innocent- looking scarecrow appeared upon the identical rock where science had met such a signal defeat. To the outward eye it was the figure of a man holding in his two hands a gun after the mariner of a soldier presenting arms. Only Sophia knew the terrible secret contained in that immobile-looking figure. The crow was up betimes on that morning, and beat its way through the sea of gray mist mingled with sunbeams to the lithe birch-tree in the corner of the field. " Caw ! caw ! caw ! " The figure stood like a statue. The brains of birds, like all brains, have their limitations ; and to the crow's limited philosophy that figure could not be a man. Corvus swung up and down on the tree-top in the billowy mist, and now and then added its bass notes to the sweet choruses of birds that encircled the field. Then he glided gently down on level wings into the middle of the field. " Bang ! " Did ever a scarecrow fire a gun before .'' If ever there was an astonished member of the raven family, it was that one ; astonished not only that a scarecrow should fire a gun, but that the effect should be so harmless. It took the lucky bird but a moment to recover its wings, and the way that the latter propelled a breakfastless body through space was something remarkable in the achievements of aerial velocity. The beguiled bird left the field in the dim distance "before the echoes of the gun had ceased to die away among the pines. Then the scarecrow walked towards the farm- house, and had a talk with Sophia. The summer came, and autumn powdered the autumn leaves, burned to gold. The purple swallows left the eaves ; the partridge fluttered about the walls of the corn-lands, and at last the wild geese again crossed the changing sky. The farmer raised a noble crop of corn that year. The parson came to the husking. Peleg recited the history, of the crop over the roast chickens, baked apples, and pumpkin pies. THE OLD RED SETTLE AND PROVINCIAL STORIES. 93 " Parson," said he, " the premises of that last scarecrow theory were all correct, — were they not? " " Not quite, not quite, Peleg," said the good parson. " What became of the crow ? " " He will not trouble me again next year. Parson.'' Peleg was right. The crow was wise. He never again visited the philo- sophical farmer's fields, where scarecrows fire guns. The story vi^as received with applause, all clapping their hands, and a chorus of voices saying, — "Now tell us one more, Uncle Felix?" OUR ENTERTAINMENTS IN THE HAY-LOFT. It happened when I was at school. One of the boys, named Brown, who was a great lover of Shakspeare, went to Boston and there became " stage- struck." When he came back he gave some performances in his room for the benefit of the class, — very remarkable performances they were, — and at last he suggested to us boys that it would be a commendable plan to get up, as he said, " some entertainments." " We could begin with a concert, and, after some study, we could have amateur theatricals. We could at least give Othello strangling Desdemona. That would produce a thrilling effect, and would be something new in the school." The idea of strangling Desdemona seemed to us very novel and picturesque, and we favored it. There were quite a number in our school who enjoyed a local reputation for their declamatory abilities. We had one comic genius, and a singer or two ; and with this force we hoped to achieve success. The girls of our acquaintance all promised to come, if we bought tickets for them, and pronounced the idea " splendid ! " \ The only difficulty was in finding a suitable place in which to give our performance. The town-hall was out of the question, the vestries of the churches equally so, the school an impossibility ; and no private house would answer, provided we could secure one. The only available place seemed to be a spacious hay-loft over Frank Green's barn. 94 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. But, unfortunately, it would be about as well to ask Frank's mother for the use of her snapping black eyes as for her hay-loft. Mrs. Green was one of those loud, demonstrative, hard-working women, who go stormfuUy through life, swift, strong, and energetic, noisy, and almost dangerous if you stood in her way. She was the terror of all the cTiildren, although really she was a kind-hearted woman in her own way. She was always ready to do a good turn and help a neigh- bor in distress, but she could n't endure boys idling about her premises. She was sure they were trying to steal eggs, or fruit, or something or other belonging to her ; and so she used to sally forth on them with her eyes aflame, clutching in her red right hand a most formidable cowhide. I myself had two memorable encounters with the good lady. I once had to take a letter to a gentleman whose estate adjoined hers ; and instead of going around and reaching it by the regular road, I leaped her wall and took a short cut across lots. Just as I got about half-way, what should I behold but Mrs. Green, cowhide in hand, accompanied by two dogs, bearing down on me ! To run would be utter madness, because I should be certain to have the canine fangs buried in my flesh long before I reached the opposite wall. Strategy alone could help me in this awful emergency. Politeness and very humble bearing on my part might mol- lify my pursuer ; and these mild weapons I resolved to use, encouraged by the recollection that discretion is the better part of valor. My plan of defence was instantly conceived. I stood still, and began to look about me as if bewildered. Down swept the enemy upon me. Before she said a word — in fact, she did n't mean to speak much, except with the cowhide — I very politely asked her if she could inform me the nearest way to Mr. Anderson's. Her eyes flamed at me awhile ; then, swallowing a lump in her throat, she pointed with her weapon the nearest way over the wall. I thanked her with a bow and retreated without a glance behind, and felt extremely thankful when the stone wall was between us. The other encounter forms the subject of this story. Frank Green — a nice, quiet lad, like his late father — ascertained that his mother intended to go into the city soon, "for all day," at which time we might have the hay-loft for our entertainment. " First-rate ! " we shouted. " Then we '11 have your hay-loft, Frank. We '11 have plenty of time to get ready ! " cried Brown. THE OLD RED SETTLE AND PROVINCIAL STORIES. 95 " Plenty ! " we shouted. " Tip-top ! " ejaculated Brown. " And see, Frank, you can poke round up there, you know, in the mean time, and put things to rights, — get the hay tucked away and cleaned up a bit, you know. I s'pose it would n't do for one of us to go and help you .' " " 'T would n't be well for mother to catch you, that 's all ! " said Frank, ominously. " No ! Well, all right! You'll do all that's wanted, Frank, in a quiet way, so as not to excite suspicion," said Brown. " And now, boys, you get your parts committed, and we '11 have a rehearsal as soon as possible, — next Saturday afternoon, perhaps, down back of Old Smith's barn." Brown, as I have suggested, was a forward, ambitious lad ; and he took the whole management of the affair upon himself, although the suggestion was mine, in point of fact. Still I was, I confess, more apt at suggesting schemes than in carrying them into execution, and so very willingly conceded the work to my more energetic friend. At length the memorable day arrived. It was as lovely a summer day as one could wish, — just like this. There was a brightness over everything, and our hopes were high with the pleasure we were about to enjoy and afford our friends, — especially our girl-friends, who would, no doubt, be charmed with the performance. Mrs. Green left for the city early in the day, and was not to be home before late in the afternoon. Nearly all the school would be our audience. Every- thing looked in a fair way for a brilliant success. At half-past two, the hour appointed, we began climbing the rickety ladder that led up to the hay-loft. This, of itself, made no little sport, but created some delay on account of the timidity of the girls. , In the course of time all were seated on such seats as could be improvised for the occasion. There were over twenty of us, all told, — speakers and audience. One of the boys led off with a song, in such a harsh voice that we were really glad when he broke down in the third verse and retired amid the applause of the audience. Brown, the ambitious Brown, was dressed in a picturesque manner, and had no fewer than three pieces on the programme. His turn came next. He stepped to the platform, — or, rather, what we called such, — made a profound bow, and just as he uttered the words "Ladies and Gentlemen," a voice from below shouting, "Who's up there.'" made my hair stand on end. There was a dead silence. " Ladies and Gentlemen," continued Brown, " I arise to do you the honor 96 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. of giving you a selection from Shakspeare. It is from ' Othello,' and I think ■ you never saw anything like the performance that I am now about to perform." He was right. " I 've been to Boston and have seen it done, and it brought tears to the aujunce's eyes. " Othello, you know, was jealous of Desdemona, his wife. One day he came home and found her asleep, and determined to smother her with a bolster. This I shall now proceed to do." The excitement was intense. Brown kicked together some loose hay, and threw his thin coat over it with the amazing declaration, — " That is Desdemona ! " He then took a large towel he had brought, and held it up. " That is the bolster." In a deep voice Brown approached the supposed Desdemona on her couch, and said, — " I will kill thee 1 " '"' I say," said a strange, hesitating voice,tnot at all in the programme. It came up from below. There was a short silence ; then Brown proceeded. " I must weep." (And he did.) " But they are cruel tears. She wakes ! " Then, in a squeaking voice, supposed to represent the waking Desdemona, he said, — " Who 's there > Othello .? " There followed an unexpected inquiry. " I say, who 's there ? " This latter question was hardly an echo. The voice seemed to come up from below. We listened with beating hearts. But Brown was full of his subject now, and proceeded in a high voice, — " Thou art to die ! " He then added in a changed voice supposed to be Desdemona's, — " Heaven have mercy on me ! " Brown next bent over the bundle of hay, and proceeded to smother the helpless wife. A strange convulsive sound, as of one in mortal agony, seemed to issue from the old coat and hay. It was a thrilling moment. Then came that other voice. " I say, who 's up there on the mow ? I want to know right off now ! " It was Mrs. Green ! She was n't on the programme. " I say, who 's there .' " said the voice, in such a resolute tone as caused us all to start. THE OLD RED SETTLE AND PROVINCIAL STORIES. 97 THE BARN THEATRICALS. There was profound silence. " I hear some one up in that loft ; come down, I say, at once ! " " I 'm up here, mother," said Frank, with pale lips. "Yes, and who else? It was n't your voice I heard. Is there any one else ? Tell me before I come up with the cowhide ! " 7 g8 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. LOOK ALOFT. In the words of the poet, "Ah, then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distresp." Yes, it was a fearful moment, and to this day, after the lapse of thirty years, I remember my own sensations. Frank was the first to descend ; and the sound of the cowhide on his jacket was by no means encouraging. One after another we dropped to the floor, where the amiable old lady was applying the cowhide in a most vigorous style, uttering all kinds of threats and exclamations with equal force and perseverance. At last the skirts beean to make their aoDearance. THE OLD RED SETTLE AND PROVINCIAL STORIES. 99 " What ! Girls ! " This apparition completely bewildered her. Boys were bad enough, but girls fairly paralyzed her arm for a moment, so that the cowhide dropped at her side. But Mrs. Green was equal to the occasion, and faithfully did her duty. " Jane, is that you .' " Whack ! Whack 1 " Liddy, is that you .-' " Whack ! Whack ! " Thankful, is that you .' " Whack ! Whack ! And in this uniform manner each girl, as she descended the ladder of the improvised theatre, was met, and given an inspiration which accelerated her movements in the nearest direction towards home. I was not forgotten in the general discipline. I had all the entertainments I cared to receive that afternoon, and I have not been to any place of amuse- ment since. I did not even go to see " Pinafore." The Widow Endicott related the next story. It was an experience of her girlhood, when she sung her first solo in the choir of a country church. During this maiden effort a dog got his head into a water- pitcher on the floor of the gallery, and fell over into the pews below. The story was hardly provincial or historical, but greatly amused the Laurenses. A tale told by the intelligent old farmer Felix was more to the point. THE SOLEMN MAN. In an old burying-ground at the head of a smooth sheet of water known as Bullock's Cove, in what is now Seekonk, Mass., may be seen a rough stone, on which is rudely carved the following inscription : — MDCLXXIV. HERE LYETH THE BODY OF THE WORTHY THOMAS WILLET, ESQ., WHO DIED AUGUST YE 4TH, IN YE LXIVTH YEAR OF HIS AGE, ANNO — , WHO WAS THE FIRST MAYOR OF NEW YORK, AND TWICE DID SUSTAIN THE PLACE. lOO A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. Thomas Willet, the. successor of Miles Standish in the captaincy of the Plymouth-Colony militia, the founder of old Swansea, and the first English Mayor of New York, was born in England in 1611. He was bred a merchant, and he became acquainted with the Pilgrims at Leyden, when a mere lad, while travelling on business in Holland. He was a resolute youth, large-hearted and adventurous ; and, the lofty aims of the Pilgrims having engaged his sympathies, he embarked for Plymouth in 1629, being one of the last of the Leyden company who sought a place of religious freedom in the rugged solitudes of the Western World. He was then about eighteen years of age, his mind well schooled in the duties and responsibilities of mercantile life, and polished by travel and by inter- course with the most cultivated people ; his aspirations high, and his trust in God firm and pure. Soon after his arrival he was sent by the people of Plymouth to establish a trading-house at Kennebec, and to superintend their business at that place as agent. He remained there about seven years, and, though a mere youth, he bravely endured the hardships of the winter-bound forests, and fulfilled his duties with singular prudence and success. In 1647 he succeeded Miles Standish in the command of the military of Plymouth Colony. This office was no sinecure, but one involving stern duties and grave responsibilities ; and he brought to it the essential requisite of mature judgment, an unbending will, and a stout heart. In 1651 he was elected one of the Governor's assistants in the Court at Plymouth, to which office he was annually re-elected for fourteen years. In the winter of 1660 Captain Willet was an inhabitant of Rehoboth, Mass., having obtained permission to purchase large tracts of land in that section of country. Soon after his coming to Rehoboth he received the consent of the Court at Plymouth to purchase a tract of land of Wo;iisitta, or Alexander, the eldest son of the friendly sachem Massasoit, which was then called the Rehoboth North Purchase, but which is now known as Attleborough, Mass., and Cumberland, R. I. He was also the original proprietor of a large tract of land known as the Taunton North Purchase, where now flourish the towns of Norton, Mansfteld, and Easton, Mass., — names familiar to the traveller. In 1664 Charles II. of England, unwilling that any but English settlers should maintain an independent government in the midst of his growing colo- nies, made a grant of all the territory claimed by the Dutch at Manhattan and on the North River to his brother, the Duke of York and Albany. Colonel Richard Nicholls was commissioned to take possession of these Dutch colonies, and to exercise jurisdiction over them in the name of the Crown. Colonel Nicholls, with ships-of-war and an armed force, landed at Boston in the summer of that year, and demanding and receiving reinforcements from the Massachu- ENGLISH AND' DUTCH QUARRELS, THE OLD RED SETTLE AND PROVINCIAL STORIES. ,103 setts and Connecticut colonies, appeared in New York Bay about the beginning of autumn. The result of the expedition is well known, — the resolute behavior of Gov- ernor Stuyvesant, the councils at the old Stadt-house, and the easy capitulation of the town by the fat burgomasters. New Amsterdam took the name of the city from which the English duke derived his title, and the Dutch officials gave place to a new government formed in harmony with the colonial laws established by the English king. Colonel NichoUs, after the reduction of Manhattan, turned to Captain Willet as a man of an even disposition and a well-poised mind, a professional merchant, and a fluent speaker of Dutch, to assist " in modelhng and reducing the affairs of the newly acquired settlements into good English." He wrote to Governor Prince, earnestly requesting that Captain Willet might have such dispensation from his official duties in Plymouth Colony as to act as his assistant, and pointing out his especial fitness for the work. The request was granted, and Captain Willet entered at once upon his difficult labors in New York. He was already favorably known to the Dutch, and his appointment was received by them with satisfaction. Captain Willet encountered many difficulties in his efforts to establish pacific measures. The Dutch were hostile to the English, and the Indians were unfriendly towards the Dutch. But he succeeded so well in harmonizing the discordant elements that he won the sympathies of the new subjects, and received from them the title of peacemaker. Immediately after the organiza- tion of the government, he was elected the first English mayor of New York, which office he filled so acceptably as to secure a re-election on the following year. He afterward was chosen umpire by the Dutch to determine the dis- puted boundary between the New York and New Haven colonies. When the two years of his mayoralty had expired, he returned to his home in Rehoboth. Captain Willet wis a man of liberal religious views, and did not sympathize with the exclusiveness of the Colonist. He probably had connected himself in youth with the Reformed Church in Holland. Shortly before his retirement from public office he made the acquaintance of the Rev. John Miles, a Baptist clergy- man who had been driven from his living in Wales by the Act of Conformity of 1662, — an acquaintanceship that ripened into warm friendship and yielded generous fruit. In 1667 Captain Willet and Mr. Miles secured from the Ply- mouth Court the grant of a township which they named New Swansea, from the old home of the Welsh pastor and the Sea of Swans near his home in Wales. Here they established a church. Baptist in name, but open in commu- nion, the covenant defending in powerful language the equal rights of Christians I04 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. to the table of the Lord. The mode of baptism to be administered was to be left in each case to the choice of the candidate ; and the church, free from all ecclesiastical impedimenta, went vigorously to work and soon drew to its fellow- ship many strong men from the Colonies." The Presbyterian adventurers from Harlem-Meer sung sweetly with the exiles from the Severn ; Baptists, Congre- gationalists, and Quakers worshipped under the same roof, and before the pulpit of a liberal Baptist elder. " We legends read of Church and State, Of wars in lands decaying, The banner of the cross in hate Uplifted o'er the slaying. "A better legend lingers here In stainless history given ; Sweet sung the men from Harlem-Meer With exiles from the Severn." Captain Willet, shortly after the grant of the township of New Swansea, made proposals to the church and to the town concerning the admission of new settlers : — 1. That no erroneous person be admitted into the township as an inhabitant or sojourner. 2. That no man of any evil behavior, as contentious persons, be admitted. 3. That none may be admitted that may become a charge to the place. These proposals were " ratified, confirmed, and settled as a foundation- order " by the church and the town. It should be here stated, in justice to these worthy men, that probably this last proposal was not intended to disqualify unfortunate persons for citizenship, but to keep out the unthrifty. All well-rneaning persons were welcome to the township, however poor. Here, amid the pine groves of Swansea, near the calm waters of the Narra- gansett, Captain Willet passed his declining years. Respected by the expand- ing Colonies, revered by the church and by the inhabitants of the town he had founded, and beloved by a numerous family, the close of his life was serene and happy ; and he passed away peacefully at last, as one goes home at eventide after resting awhile on the sun-sprinkled sheaves of a bountiful harvest. Captain Willet married Mary Brown, the daughter of John Brown the elder, at Plymouth, by whom he had thirteen children. His grandson, Francis Willet, was a prominent man in the Colony of Rhode Island. His great-grandson. Colonel Marinus Willet, served with distinguished honor in the Revolutionary THE OLD RED SETTLE AND PROVINCIAL STORIES. 105 War, and was also elected Mayor of New York. The descendants of Captain Willet are numerous in New York and in other sections of the country. His house was a fine one for colonial times, and relics of it still remain. One of the doors may be seen in an antiquarian collection in the possession of the city of New York. Rhode Island antiquarians have bricks from the chimney ; and a house in South Providence, occupied by Samuel Viall, Esq., contains bricks used in building the old Willet mansion (probably imported from Hol- land), and two doors of like antiquity, that retain the fantastic ornamental painting of a departed age. Captain Willet's sword is in the keeping of the city of New York. Once, in his business among the tribes of New England, certain Indians in Maine conspired to kill him. " We are famishing," said the leader. " There is corn in the storehouse, corn from Plymouth. Willet, — let us murder him, and we will have corn." They found Mr. Willet alone one day in his trading-house. He was reading the Bible ; and according to the thought and custom of the times, was unwilling to speak until the reading had concluded. " Ugh ! " said the leader. Mr. Willet looked up with a solemn and severe face, but did not say a word. " Ugh ! " Mr. Willet dropped his eyes upon the Bible, as though consulting it, and cpntinued to read. The Indians slowly moved back. " He knows our plot," said the leader. " What is he reading .' " asked the others. " The book of the Great Spirit," was suggested. " Then he has found us out. He knows. I can see it in his face. Run ! " His grave is neglected ; but antiquarians sometimes find their way to the sequestered spot, and decipher the rude inscription amid the moss and the fern. It would seem that the defender of infant colonies, the founder of flourishing churches and towns, and the first English Mayor of our great metropolis, should have a more appropriate memorial than a rough stone to mark the spot where rests his dust. A poem by Mr. Leiand, recalling scenes of the shores which often were seen on their excursions, closed the evening's entertainment. I CHAPTER IV. SOME STRANGE HISTORIC STORIES. IHE old tavern in Lakeville is situated in a region historically interesting, and has often been the scene of story-telling. The lake that lies in front is as serene and almost as blue as the sky. In the long June days the meadows fill the air with sweetness, and the September hazes are like sun-showers of gold. The Sassamon Reservation is not a long distance from the tavern, but is not connected with any public highway. One must go to it through private grounds ; and one may have to take down and put up again many pairs of bars, before he reaches the Indian houses, of which but a few remain. ^ Here live the descendants of the great sachem Massasoit, in a house built for the most part, we have been told, by the Indian prin- cesses Wootonekanuske and Teweelema with their own hands. Some account of the family may be found in a book entitled " Fam- ilies of Royal Descent," which relates to such people who have a residence in America. One morning, Henry Laurens was surprised to see a modest, graceful lady, in full Indian costume, come from a path near the lake and enter the public highway. She carried a collection of small but very tasteful baskets. SOME STRANGE HISTORIC STORIES. 107 " Who is that ? " he asked of Charlie Leland.. " The Princess Teweelema," said Charlie. " She is a direct de- scendant of the family of Massasoit. Her mother lives near here." " Let us go and visit her," said Henry. The two boys entered the wood by the lakerside, Charlie leading. The woods were, of oak, birch, and pine, and delightfully cool and shady. The placid lake could here and there be seen through the long arcades of trees. They came at last to a strange-looking house, and were cor- dially received by an Indian lady nearly eighty years of age, but hav- ing the appearance of a woman of fifty. Here they purchased of her a book which she had published, entitled " Indian History and Genealogy." From this the boys learned that the good sachem Massasoit had a daughter named Amie. This princess was a sis- ter to Alexander (Wamsutta) and King Philip (Mitaam). The son of Philip was sold into slavery after the Indian War, but Amie survived. They further learned from this most interesting book that — 1. Amie had married Taspaquin, or the Black Sachem, chief of the Assawamsett Indians ; 2. This Indian family were the descendants in the sixth or seventh generation from the heroic family of Massasoit and Tas- paquin. " The history of this royal family is a romance but little known outside of Middleborough, even in Massachusetts," said Mr. Leland, to whom the boys gave some account of their visit. He added: — " This evening I will tell you a story of this royal family that is but little known, but that is as heroic and dramatic as anything to be found in American history." Mr. Leland visited the Indian princesses that afternoon, and in- vited them to be present at the evening story-telling. Early in the evening the Club filled the old red settle, and the 108 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. guests of the hotel the piazza. Among the visitors was the beautiful Teweelema, in full Indian costume. Mr. Leland introduced the stories of the evening with the following narrative. A STRANGE CHAPTER OF INDIAN HISTORY. Two years before the landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth, Mass., a remark- able pestilence swept off the greater part of the Indians inhabiting that part of the country. The warriors of the three tribes of the Wampanoags, Massachu- setts, and Pawtuckets were reduced to mere bands of men. We do not know that any early historian has given a very circumstantial account of this remarkable event, the facts of which could have been obtained only from the Indians. Many of the early writers, however, allude to it ; and these data, when collected, make an interesting if not a satisfactory history. Dr. Webster made a partial collection of such data, and published them in his work on " Pestilential Diseases." The Doctor says : " As this is one of the most remarkable facts in history; I have taken great pains to ascertain the species of the disease and the time of its appearance." He decides that the pestilence was the true American plague, called the Yellow Fever, and that the time of its appearance was the year 1618. King James mentions the desolating effects of the pestilence as one of .the iteasons for granting the great patent of New England (Nov. 3, 1620): "We have been further given certainly to know that within these late years there hath been, by God's visitation, a wonderful plague amongst the savages, those heretofoire inhabiting, in a manner, to the utter destruction, devastation and depopulation of the whole territory, so as there is not left, for many leagues together, in a manner, any that do claim or challenge any kind of interest therein ; whereby we, in our judgment, are persuaded and satisfied that the appointed time is come in which Almigjity God, in his goodness and bounty towards us and our people, hath thought fit that these large and goodly terri- tories, deserted as it were by their natural inhabitants, should be possessed and enjoyed by such of our subjects and people as shall by his mercy and favor, and by his powerful arm, be conducted thither." Belknap says in his " American Biography " (Life of Fernando Gorges) that Richard Vines and his companions, who had been sent by Gorges to explore imm& FIGHT BETWEEN A SETTLER AND AN INDIAN CHIEF. \ SOME STRANGE HISTORIC STORIES. Ill the country, wintered among the Indians during the pestilence, and adds that the disease in no wise affected the English. Purchas mentions that Captain Dermer, an English adventurer, who sailed along the northern coast in May, 1619, landed at several places where he had stopped a year before, and found many Indian towns wholly depopulated, and in others not a single person who was free from sickness. Higginson, in his " New England's Plantation" (161 3), thus refers to the dis- ease : " Their subjects about twelve years since were swept away by a great and grievous plague that was amongst them, so that there are very few left to inhabit the country." General Gookin in his " Historical Collections of the Indians," written in 1674, says of the " Pawkunnawkutts " (the Wampanoags) : " This nation, a great number of them, were swept away by an epidemical and unwonted sick- ness. Anno 1612-13, about seven or eight years before the English first arrived in those parts to settle the colony of New Plymouth. Thereby Divine Prov- idence made way for the quick settlement of thp English in those nations." Of the Massachusetts : " In Anno 1612-13 these people were also sorely smitten by the hand of God with the same disease, which destroyed the most of them, and made room for the English people of Massachusetts Colony. There are not of this people left at the present day above three hundred men, besides women and children." The date of this pestilence is given differently by different writers and antiquarians. Gookin, one of the best of the old authorities, gives it as 161 2. General Fessenden, of Warren, R. I., the author of a very valuable paper on " Massasoit and his Family," fixes it at 1616. A letter from Captain Dermer, in Purchas, makes the time of the principal sickness the winter of 161 8. Elder Cushman,.in the dedicatory epistle to a sermon preached at Plymouth soon after the arrival of the Pilgrims and published in London soon after the establishment of the Colony, and which bears the date of 1621, says: "They [the Indians] were very much wasted of late by a great mortality that fell among them three, years since, which with their own civil dissensions and bloody wars hath s^ wasted them that, as I think, the twentieth person is scarcely , left alive." It seems to be certain that Dr. Webster is correct when he fixes the date of the greatest mortality at 1618. This, however, may be but the culminating point of a long pestilential period, as it is probable that Gookin (1674) had evidence of the appearance of the sickness in 161 2. But few facts remain concerning the nature of the disease. Hutchinson says that many of the early settlers supposed it to have been the small-pox. Captain Dermer (161 8) speaks of it as the plague, and gives his reason that he 112 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. had seen " the sores of some that had escaped, who described the spots of such as usually die." Prince's " Chronology " records that it produced hemorrhage from the nose. On this point, however, Gookin seems decisive. He says : " Doubtless it was some pestilential disease. I have discoursed with some old Indians that were then youths, who say that the bodies all over were exceeding yellow, describing it by a yellow garment that they showed me, both before they died and afterwards." This evidence sustains the views of Dr. Webster. Morton, in his "New England Canaan," gives the following affecting account of the ravages of the disease, and of the scene presented by the depopulated wilderness : " Some few years before the English came to inhabit at New Ply- mouth, the hand of God fell heavily upon the natives with such a mortal stroke that they died in heaps. In a place where many inhabited, there hath been but one left alive to tell what became of the rest ; and the bones and skulls upon the several places of the habitations made such a spectacle after my com- ing into these parts, that as I travelled in that forest, near the Massachusetts, it seemed to me a new-found Golgotha. This mortality was not ended when the Brownites of New Plymouth were settled at Patuxet ; and by all likelihood the sickness that these Indians died of was the plague, as by conference with them since my arrival and habitation in these parts I have learned." The tribe of the Wampanoags, a once powerful nation, inhabiting the eastern shores of the Atlantic from Cape Cod to the Narragansett Bay, which numbered thirty thousand people and three thousand warriors, and which was renowned for the beauty of its hunting-grounds and the valor of its braves, was reduced in a very larief period to less than five hundred souls. The powerful tribe of the Massachusetts, according to Hutchinson, lost more than twenty- nine thousand out of its thirty thousand people, and the Pawtuckets were almost wholly destroyed. What a scene of desolation must the primitive forests of New England have presented in the temperate seasons of 1619 ! What strange emotions must have filled the bosoms of those who escaped the stroke of the great destroyer ! The birds sung in the spring-time, but there were few to hear ; the wild beasts multiplied and the fishes filled the warm currents of the bays and streams, but there were few to take the bow and the fishing-rod. The dreadful odor of decaying bodies filled the air, and unclean birds and beasts picked the bones of those who were once their natural enemies. The summer moons rounded, but looked down upon silent forests and oarless streams. The Indian maiden no longer disported in her birchen canoe, and the braves gathered no more before the villages with their hatchets and war plumes. The autumn sun shone on the uncultured maize-field, and the hunter's moon upon the old places of SOME STRANGE HISTORIC STORIES. 113 festivity, once alive with those who assembled to see the feats of the conjurer and dancer, but now frequented no more. The land was a still sepulchre, whitened with the bones of those who inhabited it. The Indians who survived looked upon the terrible visitation with a resig- nation and fortitude worthy of a more enlightened faith. They spake of it as the work of the Great Spirit, who multiplied the nations, and whose wisdom the feeble creatures who people the earth could not divine or measure. The old Indian prophets had seen visions of great boats, with snowy wings, flying low on the luminous waters, and bringing strange people from unknown regions over the sea. The impression had long prevailed among the wise men of the tribes, that great changes were about to happen. Their faith in the wisdom and justice of the Great Spirit never faltered. The remnants of the tribes expected to meet the shades of departed friends in the regions that know no pestilence, amid shining streams, and in forests of eternal beauty. The plague of 1618 may have been peculiar to the native races. Richard Vines and his companions who wintered among the Indians at the time of the greatest mortality, and who remained unharmed, seem to have held this view, — a view that is sustained by another very remarkable circumstance. " In 1762 the remnants of the Indian tribe dwelling on Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard were attacked by what seems to have been a milder form of the same sickness that had proved so fatal to their ancestors about a century and a half before. The Nantucket Indians numbered something less than four hundred. Two hundred and fifty-eight were seized with the disease, and of these only thirty - six survived. On Martha's Vineyard not a family escaped, and out of fifty-two patients thirty-nine died. " The disease," says Dr. Webster, " began with high fever, and ended with typhus in about five days. It appeared to be infectious among the Indians only ; for no whites were attacked, although they associated freely with the diseased. Persons of a mixed blood were attacked, but recov- ered. Not one died except of full Indian blood. I am informed by a respec- table authority that a similar fever attacked Indians on board of ships at a distance of hundreds of leagues, without any connection with Nantucket." This indeed was the " pestilence that walketh in darkness " and the " de- struction that wasteth at noonday." Fancy only can paint the scenes of these dark days. How strange a preparation for the Pilgrims was this destruction of the tribes ; without it, the early Colonies must have been swept away in Philip's War. Farmer Felix, to whom the whole history of the region was familiar, gave a picture of the romance of early New England in the following 114 ^ ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. narrative. The story presented a very clear view of the early settle- ments during the Indian War. QUEEN WEXAMOO. A NEGLECTED ROMANCE OF INDIAN HISTORY. I spent my early years in Warren, R. I., — a town historically famous as ;Sowanes, the home of Massasoit. My ancestors had lived at Mount Hope, in Bristol, R. I., and I had learned from the old members of the family many Indian romances, when I made the acquaintance of General Guy M. Fessenden, author of the history of " Massasoit and his Family," and was so much interested in the results of his historical researches as to seek to recover the story of Wetamoo, — an Indian Boadicea, whose name is familiar, but whose history is almost unknown. As the traveller from Boston drops down Mount Hope Bay on one of the New York steamers from Fall River, he can hardly fail to be impressed with the picturesque landscapes on the east. This region, overlooking the calm inland seas and lifting its dreamy fields to a level with the brow of Mount Hope on the west, was once known as Pocasset. A part of Pocasset now bears ihe name of Tiverton. The old sachem of Pocasset had two daughters, named Wetamoo and Wpotonekanuske. One of the rustic palaces of Massasoit doubtless stood directly across the bay from the airy brow of Pocasset ; and as Wamsutta and Pometacom (Philip) here spent a part of their youth, we may fancy that their light skiffs often shot across the bay to the dwelling of the beautiful princesses on the Pocasset shore. Alexander (Wamsutta) married Wetamoo, the more interesting of the two Indian maidens ; and Philip (Pometacom) married Woo- tonekanuske, who was probably the younger. The wooing of the Pocasset princesses seems to have been the last romantic event in the history of the once powerful tribe of the Wampanoags. Wetamoo became Queen of Pocasset. So far as we know, no historian has given a connected account of the life of this brave but unfortunate Indian queen. It is our purpose to write a brief sketch of her history, as far as the fragmen- tary data that remain concerning her will allow. Massasoit regarded Alexander with deep affection, and associated him in the government of the Wampanoags. Several of the old deeds of sale given by Massasoit in his last years bear the signature of Alexander. • SOME STRANGE HISTORIC STORIES. 1 1 7 On the death of Massasoit, Alexander was invested with the sachemship. He was a noble Indian, prudent and considerate, but lofty in spirit and dignified in demeanor. He was a true patriot ; and he witnessed with alarm the expansion of the Colonies, and repented the sale of the beautiful hunting-grounds of his fathers, now passed from his control. An altered spirit between the Indians and the Colonists began to manifest itself soon after his succession. The English, conscious of their power, ceased to be scrupulous and forbearing in their dealings with the Indians, as they had been with the great Massasoit in the infancy of the Colonies. Unprincipled men found their way to the frontier settlements, who defrauded the ' native inhabitants and treated them arrogantly. The Indian sages saw that the glory of the old tribes was departing, and their counsels advised that the rising tide of emigration be stayed. Alexander treated the English respectfully, but coolly. He looked out on the dominion that had been his father's, and regarded it as despoiled ; he looked back on the long friendship of his father for the English, and saw in return that his people were despised. He felt the cloud of war darkening in the distance, and began to prepare for the storm. He numbered his warriors, determined to maintain those river-bright regions that God and Nature had intrusted to his keeping, and to defend, if need be, the liberties of his race. But we have no evidence that he ever intended to commence an aggressive war. In 166 1, not long after the death of Massasoit, rumors began to float through the air that the Pokanokets were preparing to make an attack upon the Colonies. Governor Prince at Plymouth received a letter from a friend, who had been called by business to Narragansett, which stated that Alexander was meditating hostilities, and was endeavoring to persuade the powerful sachem of the Narra- gansetts to unite with him against the English. Governor Prince acted promptly. He ordered Captain Thomas Willet, one of his assistants, to go at once to Mount Hope, the royal residence of Alex- ander, and to inform the sachem of the reports that had reached Pl3gnguth, and request him to be present at the next session of the Court a^/P^mouth, to vindicate himself from the charges that ^e Colonists were making against him. Alexander received Captain Willet cordially and with dignity. He listened to the complaint respectfully, and replied that the accusation was false ; that the Narragansetts were his enemies, and that he had no wish to destroy the friendly relations that had so long existed between the Pokanoket chieftains and the rulers of Plymouth Colony. He agreed to the proposal made by Captain Willet, in behalf of the Governor, that he should attend in person the next Court at Il8 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. Plymouth, and there publicly declare his pacific intentions, and satisfy the gov- ernment that the charges made against him were untrue. Alexander may have been sincere when he made this denial of the accusation, and this promise to answer in person to the charge before the Court at Plymouth. If so, reflection altered his purpose, and led him to regard the request of the Governor's messenger as a covered insult, and compliance with such a request as a departure -from the dignity of the sachemship. Was he, the chieftain of the Wampanoags, — a tribe, time out of mind, glorious in peace and renowned in war, — to be held accountable for the acts of his government to parties of adven- turers whom the generosity of his father had allowed to make their homes within the limits of his dominions ? His lofty spirit, animated with all the fiery impulses of youth, recoiled from such an exhibition and fall. He looked upon himself, not as a cringing roytelet to be ordered hither and thither by those whom his family had pitied and spared, but as the rightful and proper head of all the river-cleft regions from the Narragansett to the sea. The Court assembled, but Alexander did not appear. Instead of repairing to Plymouth, he went to his former enemy, the powerful sachem of the Narra- gansetts, doubtless to ask the assistance of his warriors for his own protection, and for the protection of the liberties of the Indian race. Governor Prince, on hearing of Alexander's visit to the Narragansetts, called together his counsellors. Having received their advice and approval, he ordered Major Winslow to take a band of picked men, and to go to Mount Hope and surprise Alexander and bring him by force to Plymouth. Whether this act of hostility was wise and prudent, one cannot tell, for the motives and purposes of Alexander must remain forever a mystery ; but it proved the beginning of those dark sqenes of New England history known as the Indian War, and in this case the English clearly were the aggressors. Major Winslow immediately set out from Marshfield with a small body of men, for the royal residence of the Pokanoket chieftain. He intended to strengthen this force from towns near the bay. He needed but few men ; for the Indians, after nearly half a century of peace, had ceased to be suspicious, and the appearance of a company of English soldiers at any of their principal settlements would not have been regarded as a cause for alarm. About midway between Plymouth and Bridgewater, Major Winslow and his men came to a smooth sheet of water, doubtless Moonponset Pond. Upon the bank was a rustic hunting-lodge, where a band of hunters were reposing and feasting after the toils of the chase. The Major soon ascertained that this was one of the transient residences of Alexander, and that the unsuspecting sachem was then there, with Wetamoo, banqueting with his friends. SUME STRANGE HISTORIC STORIES. 121 The Colonists lurked about the hunting-house awhile in silence. They discovered that the guns of the Indians had been left unguarded some distance from the entrance. Major Winslow ordered the seizure of these; then, with a few sturdy followers, marched directly into the cabin. The Indians manifested no surprise on seeing the English, but greeted them cordially. Major Winslow requested Alexander to step out of the cabin with him for a brief conference. The sachem readily complied. " I am ordered to arrest you for plotting against the English," said the major. "You must return with me, to answer to the charge at Plymouth." The sachem seemed bewildered. He was slow to believe that such perfidy and insolence could be possible in the English. Major Winslow reaffirmed his order and his purpose. Alexander's eyes flashed, and his heart palpitated. A moment's reflection kindled his wild passions ; and he stood before his accuser, like a roused satyr of the forest, towering with rage. " This is an insult ! " he said on returning to his followers, " which my spirit cannot bear, and to which I never will submit ! " The Indians caught the hidden meaning of the declaration, and made ready to defend their chieftain. Major Winslow, understanding the movement, levelled his pistol at the captive's breast and said, — ■' I am ordered to take you to Plymouth ; and I shall do it, so help me, God. If you comply peacefully, you shall be treated kindly ; if you resist, I will shoot you upon the spot." The Indians outnumbered the English, almost ten to one ; but they were disarmed. Seeing the helplessness of their situation, they urged Alexander to submit peacefully, and promised him, with true Indian fidelity, that, they would accompany him to Plymouth. Among the number was Wetamoo, young and beautiful, dressed in the fantastic habit of an Indian queen, in a manner to shed the utmost lustre upon her charms. The Colonists began to return with their unhappy captive. Alexander, accompanied by his beautiful queen, led the retinue of Indians, sullen and silent. It was the warm season, and the day was sultry and oppressive. The English offered the sachem a horse that he might ride ; but he declined the offer with dignity, saying that he preferred to walk with his family and friends. Arrived at Duxbury, the illustrious captive was taken to Major Winslow's residence, where he was hospitably entertained, but guarded with scrupulous care. Here a sense of his wrongs, and the discovery of the true situation 122 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. and the perils of his people, bore down his high spirit, and unsettled his mind. His mental anguish was so great as to destroy his health, and he fell a victim to a burning fever. His disease was rapid, and his sufferings were fearful to behofd. The pride of the Indians who had followed him now gave way, and they begged piteously to be allowed to take their beloved chieftain home. Even the frigid spirit of the Colonist was not proof against such heart-rending appeals ; and the Court at Plymouth, on receiving the report of the doctors concerning the actual state of the sufferer, consented to allow him to be taken back on the condition of the Indians sending them his son as a hostage for his reappearance at that place on his recovery. The Indians mounted the quivering sachem on a litter upon their shoulders, and entered the cool trails of the forest. They travelled slowly, silent as stoics, the settled purpose of revenge smouldering in their hearts. There was pity in each eye, and the dark line of trouble on each brow, but they shed no tears. At length the forest solitude was broken by a calm river. They lowered their burden gently and tenderly, and placed it in one of the canoes lying upon the shore. The light paddles lifted, and the boat dropped down the smooth river, now fanned by the airy boughs of marginal trees, now shining in the tempered light of the sun. Presently the paddles were suspended and fell tardily. A change had come over the chieftain : he was dying. They took him to the shore, and laid him down under a spreading tree. The braves gathered around him in silence and in awe. Wetamoo bent over him, her bosom heaving in sympathy, and her hands performing the last wifely offices. His breath became feeble and faltered. Presently the last tremor of agony was over, and the son of Massasoit lay before the statue-like assemblage of his friends and followers — dead. " They have poisoaed him," said Wetamoo. " They shall bitterly repent the day." The death of Alexander (1661) was followed by years of peace, but from that hour the Wampanoags became secretly the foes of the Colonies. And we may in justice remark that, with all the cunning imputed to the Indian char- acter, the first wily stratagem of the New England Indian war was accom- plished by the English, and that, with all the warlike propensities of which thr Indians are accused by the early historians, the first act of open hostility i.. here directly traceable to the Colonists' own doors. Philip succeeded Alexander in the sachemship, beginning his reign at Mount Hope, the ancient governmental seat of the dominion. Wetamoo retired to her home in Pocasset, firmly bent on avenging the SOME STRANGE HISTORIC STORIES. I 23 death of her husband. But the reign of Phihp began peacefully, and the injured queen, having but limited power, contented herself for a time with living pacifically in her own romantic dominions. She married, in due time, Peter Nanuit, an Indian of fine natural endowments, and a friend to the English (1661-1675). Fourteen years of peace elapsed between the tragic death of Alexander and the beginning of active hostilities ; but the period was overshadowed by the rising cloud of war, and the peace was one that brought no feeling of security to the Colonists. Philip prepared for the worst, quietly and methodically, during all these years ; now laboring for the'- union of all of the Indian tribes against their natural enemy, now foiling the Colonists by a stroke of statesmanship that would have excited the admiration of a Metternich or a Talleyrand. The killing of the executioners of Sassamon, a treacherous Indian, by the English, brought on the long-expected hostilities. The first signal for active war made Philip ambitious to unite under his leadership all of the neighboring tribes. He went to the beautiful queen of Pocasset, whose airy cabins looked down on his council-fires from the evergreens over the bay, and appealed to her for the assistance of her warriors. Her husband, Nanuit, was on intimate terms with the English ; she was at peace with the Colonists and with the sachems and sagamores near and far, and she seemed to hesitate to expose her dominion to the perils of war. " Remember," said Philip, appealing to her pride, and opening an old wound by a well-timed allusion to an injury that she once had studied to avenge, — "remember that the English at Plymouth poisoned your husband and my brother." The wild passions of Wetamoo were roused. She promised her warriors to Philip, and soon gave to the cause the romantic inspiration of a warrior queen. Her tribe numbered about three hundred braves. They were portly men, dis- playing upon their persons in war all the trappings of barbarian splendor, and they were proud of their queen. Captain Church, the most conspicuous English officer in the first Indian war, visited Peter Nanuit at Pocasset just before the breaking out of hostilities. The Indian leader received him in a friendly manner, and he was the first to inform him of the certainty of war. He said that Philip had already begun to hold his dances, — those fearful revels that, according to the Indian custom, preceded the shedding of blood. The lurid war-fires now in the still nights illumined the wooded rocks of 124 ^ ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. Mount Hope, and gleamed on the calm bosom of the bay. Dusky forms circled around the rose-colored flames, while light canoes danced on the palpitating waters. On the east lay Pocasset, her fair brow now crescented, now orbed, with the rising moon. Captain Church held an interview with Wetamoo at Pocasset on the eve of the war. She lived on a hill a little north of what is known now as Rowland's Ferry, — a place familiar to those who visit the attractive summer resorts, near Newport, on the outlets of the charming inland seas. She appeared very melancholy on the occasion. She said that her people had then gone across the water to attend one of Philip's dances, though without her approval. She seemed unwilling to converse, but affirmed that she saw on every hand the ominous signs of war. Philip soon sent terror through the Colonies by the attack on Swansea, June 24, 1675, and on other exposed settlements. Wetamoo, true to her pledge, joined him at the head of her noble body of warriors. She followed him through the long trails of the forest, inspiring her men by her presence and example to do deeds of daring ; she shared his privations and sufferings amid summer's heat and winter's snow. Nanuit joined the English. Wetamoo disowned him when his alliance with the Colonists became known, and soon after her divorcement married Quinnapin, a Narragansett sagamore, engaged in the coalition against the English. Quin- napin is described as a " young lusty sachem," well skilled in the arts of war (1676). Soon after the first attacks made by the Indians, Captain Church with a body of expert soldiers went to Pocasset to ravage the dominions of the warlike queen. She was at her own residence at this time, but, discovering the approach of the enemy, took refuge in an almost impenetrable cedar-swamp, near at hand, and so eluded her pursuer. Arriving at the place where Fall River now stands. Captain Church heard of the attack on Dartmouth. He hastened to the dis- tressed town, but too late to avert the work of destruction. The Colonists, however, took one hundred and sixty prisoners, whom they induced to lay down their arms by promises of protection and kind treatment. These pledges were so well kept that the Plymouth authorities sold all of the captives into slavery, and received from the sale a comfortable sum to aid them in prosecuting the war. Wetamoo joined Philip after the burning of Dartmouth, uniting her forces with his, probably in a thick forest on the river some miles below the old town of Taunton.^ It was now midsummer in the dismal year 1675. The name of ^ According to one authority, Wetamoo had about five hundred warriors. SOME STRANGE HISTORIC STORIES. 127 Philip had become a word to make the Colonists' hearts sink with terror in the long line of frontier towns. There was something so dark and fearful, so startling to the imagination, in the Indian mode of warfare, — in the war-whoop, in the taking of human life by the hatchet and the scalping-knife, in the indis- criminate slaughter of the young, the helpless, and the old, in the levelling of homes, in the burning of towns, — that the solitary settler seemed to see wild visions by day and by night, and to start back from the reflection of his own fancies as from lurking foes. Cotton Mather tells us, with all the gravity of a historian, that the report of a cannon and of small guns, the hissing bullets, and the rolling of drums had been heard in the air "in a clear, still, sunshiny morn- ing ;" and other early writers speak of an Indian bow that appeared on the face of the sky, and of an eclipse in which the outline of an Indian scalp was seen imprinted on the disk of the moon. When the inhabitants of Taunton learned that Philip and Wetamoo with their united forces were concealed in one of the great Pocasset swamps on the river, below the town, they abandoned their homes, and gathered together for defence in eight garrison houses. On the i8th of July a body of soldiers from Plymouth and Taunton appeared before the Indian encampment. They found about one hundred wigwams fantastically constructed of green bark, but dis- covered but few warriors. They cautiously penetrated a miry and tangled thicket, whose dense fpliage bending from tree and shrub and interlacing vines obstructed the view. Philip and his warriors retreated silently and unseen, a little way before them, as they advanced ; an expert now and then exhibiting himself to lure the Colonists on. The latter, becoming excited by thjs singular warfare, as the hunter becomes animated when breaking through the thicket in the chase, quite lost their wonted prudence and self-possession. Their progress was suddenly arrested by a volley of bullets poured upon them through the covert of a dark, matted growth of underbrush, from an invisible foe. Fifteen of the English fell dead on the spot. The rest, seeing the peril of their situation, fled precipitately, "finding it ill," says an old historian (Hubbard), "fighting a wild beast in his own den." The English now surrounded the swamp, a gloomy tract of country seven miles in circuit, in the hope of starving the Indians and capturing Philip and the terrible Pocasset queen. Here they held a blockade thirteen days, when they found that Philip had floated his warriors on rafts, one moonless night, past the drowsy sentinels, and himself with Wetamoo had gone far away into the wilderness in the heart of Massachusetts. Philip ravaged the western frontier of Massachusetts during the autumn, but the old chronicles afford but casual glimpses of the interesting Wetamoo. 128 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. During the ensuing winter the colonial army made the famous attack on the winter quarters of the Indians at South Kingston, R. I., capturing the fort, and imitating the example of the "barbarians" and "pagans," by killing women and children without mercy, and applying the torch to the dwellings. " They were in much doubt," says the manuscript of the Rev. W. Ruggles, "and they afterwards made it a subject of inquiry, whether burning their enemies alive could be consistent with humanity and the benevolent principles of the Gospel." But they were fighting for their lives, and for the lives of their families, with a terrible foe, and they did not stop to decide this nice moral question until well after the close of the war. We here lose sight of Wetamoo for a time. We only know that she shared the fortunes of Philip, and that the work of destruction went on. Feb. lo, 1676, a party of Indians attacked and burned the town of Lancaster, Mass. They took a number of prisoners ; among these, Mary Rowlandson, the wife of the Rev. Joseph Rowlandson, clergyman at that place. The English had made slaves of the captive Indians ; and to remove them from scenes which ever would have appealed to their patriotism and pride, they had sold many, including both women and children, into a servitude more cruel than death, — that of the West Indian plantation. As the English had imitated the "barbarians" in killing women and children, so the Indians sought to follow the: example of their enlightened combatants in the treatment of captives, and accordingly copied the beauties of civilization by selling them into bondage. Mrs. Rowlandson was sold to the lusty young sagamore Quinnapin, who bought her for a dressing- maid to Queen Wetamoo (February, 1676). Mrs. Rowlandson published a narrative of her captivity, which, like many old accounts of the kind, is made up largely of perverted passages of Scripture to show the barbarities of the " pagans," without, however, very frequent allu- sions to the Sermon on the Mount, which seems to have fallen into disuse during the war. She complains bitterly, deeming it an act of extreme barbarity that her little daughter Mary was sold by a praying Indian for a gun, but makes no allusion to the source of such mischief ; nor does she seem to have comprehended at all how nearly equally balanced in this war was " man's inhumanity to man." Mrs. Rowlandson gives us the following description of her new mistress, the Pocasset queen : " A severe and proud dame she was ; bestowing every day, in dressing herself, near as much time as any of the gentry of the land; pow- dering her hair and painting her face, going with her necklaces, with jewels in her ears, and bracelets upon her hands. When she had dressed herself, her work was to make girdles of wampum and beads." SOME STRANGE HISTORIC STORIES. I3I The following anecdote, which we copy for the sake of completeness, leaves no pleasant impression of the disposition either of the Indian queen or of her maid : — " As I was sitting once in the wigwam, Philip's maid came with the child in her arms [the son of Philip, made a prisoner July 31, 1676, sold into Spanish slavery, when a child, by the Colonists], and asked me to give her a piece of my apron to make him a garment. I told her I would not. Then my mistress told me to give it, but I said no. The maid told me if I would not give her a piece she would tear a piece off it. I told her I would tear her coat then. With that my mistress rises up, and takes up a stick big enough to have killed me, and struck at me with it ; but I stepped out, and she struck the stick into the mat of the wigwam. But while she was pulling it out, I went to the maid and gave her my apron, and so the storm passed over." Once, when Mrs. Rowlandson had received for some work which she had done for some Indians a quart of peas and a sirloin of bear's meat (both Philip and the Indians paid Mrs. Rowlandson for whatever work she found time to do, aside from her special duties), she prepared a nice dinner, and asked her master and mistress, Quinnapin and Wetamoo, to dine with her, as Philip had once asked her (the queen's maid) to sit at- a nice table with him. The queen and sagamore came, seemingly much pleaded. Mrs. Rowlandson set before them the repast in a single bowl. Now Wetamoo was a queen and Quinnapin was a sort of prince, inferior in rank, and merely the queen's husband. The formei was not used to this style of service, in which she and her husband were treated as equals ; and she left the table with injured pride, and refused to eat a morsel. Quinnapin was the sagamore who brought the message to Mrs. Rowlandson that she might go to the foot of Wachusett Mountain, where arrangements were making for her ransom. Mrs. Rowlandson gives an interesting account of an Indian dance that took place soon after their successes at Sudbury and other exposed places. The cotillon was performed by eight persons in the presence of the braves and a great concourse of people. Quinnapin and Wetamoo were among the gayest and the most elegantly dressed of the dancers. Quinnapin was decked in a white linen robe, bordered with lace and ornamented with silver. He wore on his head a turban composed of girdles of wampum, and on his feet white stock- ings with pieces of silver tinkling from the ties. A magnificent girdle of wampum passed over his shoulders, and clasped his waist. Wetamoo was arrayed as fantastically, in an ornamented blanket, with bracelets on her arms, jewels in her ears, and many necklaces falling from her 132 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. shoulders. Her face was painted red, and her hair powdered white. She wore red stockings and white shoes. The merry party danced to the music of a brass kettle. All of this seems shocking in barbarians ; but we have read of other dances at very serious times, — one at Brussels when Europe had reached the height of military splendor, and others neither in lands nor in periods remote. Philip did not join in the dance, but stood aside, looking on, careworn and thoughtful. When the revel was done, he sent for Mrs. Rowlandson, and said to her kindly, " Would you like to hear good news .' I have something good to tell you. You are to be released and to go home to-morrow." We again lose sight of Wetamoo. Philip carried destruction into the very heart of the Colonies, and was for a time successful. Then the fortunes of war varied, then turned. His powerful ally, Nanuntenoo the Narragansett (the friend of Roger Williams), was captured by the English and executed, dying, as he said he wished to die, " before he had done anything unworthy of his charac- ter." Philip attempted, but failed, to raise the Mohawks against the English. Awashonks, another interesting Indian queen, detached the Seconets from his cause, and united her warriors with his enemies. It is said that after the defec- tion of the Seconets he was never seen to smile. His own warriors deserted him, and the colonial army everywhere pursued him and occupied his dominions. Wetamoo remained true to him in all the vicissitudes of war. In July, 1676, Philip and Wetamoo, with the remnant of their" warriors, attempted to return-to their old homes at Mount Hope and Pocasset. They were attacked on the ist of August by Captain Church near Bridgewater, and totally defeated, losing one hundred and thirty of their men. Among the pris- oners taken by the English in this decisive battle were Philip's wife, Woo- tonekanuske (Wetamoo's sister) and his son. Wootonekanuske seems to have been a quiet woman, and to have held to the last the affection of her chief. When Philip knew of her capture, he said, " My heart breaks ; now I am ready to die." Philip and Wetamoo were now fugitives. In the listless August days they pursued their way through the shadowy swamps, towards those river-cleft regions where reposed the bones of their fathers, now no longer their own. Wetamoo longed to see the shores of Pocasset once more before she died ; and she travelled through tangled forests and forded hidden streams in the hope of resting her eyes once more on the scenes of her happy maidenhood. She reached Swansea on the 5th of August, or about that date, and hastened to a wooded peninsula overlooking the bay, now known as Gardiner's Neck. Here she beheld Pokanoket and the greeri declivities of Pocasset, glimmering in the SOME STRANGE HISTORIC STORIES. 135 sunset, for the last time. She had left Pocasset with three hundred warriors ; she returned in sight of its shores with but twenty-six followers. On August 6 an Indian who had deserted Philip sought the protection of the Colonists at Taunton, and to secure terms for himself, offered to conduct the English to the place where Wetamoo was resting after her wearisome marches, with a few faithful warriors. The English, following this guide, came upon the encampment, and made prisoners of the warriors. The heroic queen, seeing her helpless situation, determined not to be taken, but to die free. She seized a piece of wood, or raft, and threw herself into the river. The poor creature struggled awhile to reach the opposite shore ; but her strength was already spent by reason of fatigue and scanty food, her arm failed her, and she sunk to rise no more. The captive warriors were taken to Taunton. A short time after this event a party of English discovered on the Matta- poisett shore the dead body of an Indian woman, remarkable for its symmetry and beauty. They cut off the head, and took it to Taunton to exhibit it on a pole in their streets, but without knowing, according to Cotton Mather, whose head it was. When the»captives saw it, "they made," to use the choice and sympathetic expressions of the enlightened old chronicler, " a most horrid and diabolical lamentation, and fell into such hideous bowlings as can scarce be imitated, crying out that it was their queen's head " (1676). The destruction of Philip soon followed. It was the night of August 11, 1676. Philip stood on the summit of Mount Hope in the evening overlooking the dusky landscape, in order to catch the first indication in the far, far distance of the approach of his pursuers. The great outlets to the sea stretched southward like bars of living light, while below rolled the bay like a sheet of silver, mirroring the moon. What reflections must have crowded upon him in this last solitary vigil ! Just below him were the graves of his fathers, and the bones of the sachems and warriors of old. Over the bay lay Pocasset, the scene of his early wooing. On the west ghmmered Sowanes, the royal residence of his father. The Kick- muit went shimmering to the north ; but the lovely old Indian town on its banks was gone, forever gone. The low winds breathed through the cedars below, and the brightening moon scattered over them her night-beams. The sachems were gone, all gone. His warriors had perished, one by one ; fallen like the leaves of autumn, till the tree was bare. His wife and child were no longer his own. The faithful Wetamoo had died, hunted like a beast, in sight of her own sun-bright rivers, dreamy hills, and shady forest-retreats. He saw the moon sinking low on the tide; he never saw the sight again. 136 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. The story of the tragic death of Philip is too well known to need repeating here. He perished the next morning, when the autumn sun was just trembling on the verge of the sky, and the night dews lay thick on the woodlands and the meadows. We will say, however, in order to aid the tourist who may visit Mount Hope, that the great sachem was surprised and killed at a little knoll, at the foot of the eminence, on the southwest side. The last scene that Philip beheld was doubtless the broad bosom of the Narragansett, lighting up in the morning sun. We cannot to-day understand the low brutal spirit that led enlightened men to take pleasure in mutilating the dead bodies of their foes. When Nanuntenoo was killed — for an Indian, a man of lofty character, aspirations, and aims, who pro- tected the home of Roger Williams when the town of Providence was burning, and who refused to ransom his own life by surrendering the adherents of Philip in his own dominions to the English — his head was cut off, and his body was quartered and burned. " The mighty sachem of the Narragansetts," says Cotton Mather, " the English wisely delivered unto their tawny auxiliaries for them to cut off his head, that so the alienation between them and the wretches in hostil- ity against us might become incurable." Hubbard, an old historian, speaks of Nanunteitoo's fate as " the confusion of that damned wretch," etc. The behead- ing of the remains of Wetamoo, and the exhibition of her dead face in the streets of Taunton, have already been told. The dead body of Philip was treated with greater indignity than either. Said Captain Church, as his victim lay stretched upon the ground before him, " Forasmuch as he has caused many an Englishman's body to lie unburied and to rot above ground, not one of hisbones shall be buried." An old Indian cut-throat was ordered to bisect the remains and to quarter the trunk. He performed the work with a relish that shows how nearly a man may approach to the character of a demon, delivering a speech which startles the reader of old histories with its obscenity, making one wonder at the strange- morality of the age, — a choice morsel, no doubt, to those old readers whose hatred of the native tribes overstepped the decent limits of death. Philip's hand was given to the Indian who shot him, and was preserved in rum. and carried about the Colonies for a show. His head was sent to Plymouth, and exposed upon a gibbet. Cotton Mather thus feelingly moralizes on the disposition made of the fallen chieftain's members : " And in that very place where he first contrived and commenced his mischief, this Agag was now cut in quarters, which were then hanged up, while his head was carried in triumph to Plymouth, where it arrived on the very day that the church was keeping a solemn thanksgiving to God. God sent them in the head of a Leviathan for a thanksgiving feast." The four quarters of Philip's body were hung upon four SOME STRANGE HISTORIC STORIES. 137 trees, where they blew about in the river-winds, until they wasted away and dropped to the ground. So perished the last queen of Pocasset and the last sachem of thi- Wampanoags. The story of Queen Wetamoo greatly interested the Laurenses in the places in Massachusetts and Rhode Island where the tragic and heroic events took place. Charlie and Henry began to make daily excursions to the old towns on this historic ground. The whole district is a network of railroads, with swift trains and easy connections ; and the two boys found the long summer days adapted to such picnicking. They went together to. Mount Hope at Bristol, R. I., where Massasoit lived ; to Massasoit's spring in Warren, R. I. ; to " Wyllett's " tomb in Bar- rington, R. I. ; to the supposed Northmen's Rock in Dighton ; to Bowers's Shore, where once the liberator of Hayti breathed the air of liberty ; to the landing-place of Roger ^Williams ; and finally, to Newport, the scene of the " Old Mill " and the residence of the prophetic Berkeley. On July 4 they made an excursion to Taunton, visited Annawan's Rock, and the place where the first flag of Independence was thrown to the breeze by the American Colonists. Evenings of story-telling on the old red settle followed these excursions. " I wish you to make me a present," said Mrs. Laurens to Mrs. Endicott, one evening near the close of her visit to Lakeville. " That is what I would like to do. What would you have .? " " The old red settle." " Is that all } You are very welcome to it. I only brought it out as a curiosity. What would you do with it ? " " Send it to my home at St. Augustine, and use it for story-tejling, as you have here. You have given me so good a view of the early 138 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. times of the Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay Colonies, by the use of the old settle, that I would be glad to give you a view of the •early times of St. Augustine and the South in the same way." THE FIRST FLAG OF LIBERTY. , OCTOBKR, 1774. The grand years have numbered one hundred and ten Since the first flag of freedom ascended the sky, And the fair Green of Taunton made heroes of men, As men saw the ensign unfolding on high. The motto of " Union and Liberty" rolled Out into the sun-tides vermilion and gold, And loud cried those heroes of liberty bold : • " We '11 defend it with valor and virtue and votes, The red flag of Taunton, That waves o'er the Green ! " 'T was autumn, bright autumn ; and glimmered the weir ; The Taunton flowed full on that beautiful day, And kirtled wives gathered the flag-pole a-near, 'Mid the old men at prayer, and the children at play. They saw the red flag in blue liberty's dome Wave o'er the valley, Equality's home, And they heard the men say, while their own lips were dumb ; " We '11 defend with our valor and virtue and votes The red flag of Taunton That waves o'er the Green ! " The Taunton flowed swift through the shimmering weir, Past the rock where the Northmen came in from the Bay ; In the forest the red leaves were falling, and sere, Where Annawan perished. The stone church to-day. The loveliest church e'er the traveller saw. With its sentinel pines and its ivy-wreathed tower. Stands hard by the place where the women in awe Heard their husbands cry out in that glorious hour : " We '11 defend with our valor, our virtue, and votes The red flag of Taunton That waves o'er the Green ! " SOME STRANGE HISTORIC STORIES. The old parson stood by the church near the Green, And looked to the sky on that sun-flooded day ; The forest primeval encircled the scene, And shaded streams rolled o'er the rocks to the Bay. He lifted his hand like a white cross in prayer, And said as the flag like an angel's wings spread : " It is God who has written those words on the air ; By the Hand that has led you, ye still shall be led. Long may valor and virtue defend with their votes The red flag that Taunton Has raised o'er the Green ! " O'er the red oaks it hung while the autumn sun burned, And turned the green sea of leaves russet and sere ; And toward it the yeomen's eyes wondering turned From far lattices open on valley and weir. There the old parson stood, his white hand in the air. And men gathered near in silence of prayer, And said, as their brows 'neath the flag they made bare ; " We '11 defend with our valor and virtue and votes The red flag of Taunton That waves o'er the Green." " Behold," said the parson, " its folds in the sky, In the eye of the sun, — do you know what you do ? The hand that sets Liberty's watchword on high Must to valor be pledged, and to honor be true. Ye have set yonder flag for a sceptreless hand. While God ye shall honor, your nation shall stand i For truth is puissant, though led by a band. Defend with your valor and virtue and votes The flag ye have lifted To-day o'er the Green ! " " Peace," — how calmly the light of the past noontide shone On the orchards of Taunton that glorious day. As the mellow word rung like an altar-bell's tone ; " Peace, peace, men of Taunton ; 't is time we should pray. u Thou whom all sceptres dost strengthen or break. Yon flag to the hand of thy providence take, In battle victorious, in peace glorious make. Defended by valor and virtue and votes, — ^ The flag we have lifted To-day o'er the Green." 141 142 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. A young farmer came from his cot in the wood, The forest retreat that Pometacom loved, And under the flag as a sentinel stood. And watched the slow feet as they tarried and moved. " O sentinel, sentinel, stand at your post,'' The old parson said, and moved by like a ghost ; " The cause of the people can never be lost. If they give to it valor and virtue and votes. Stand, sentinel, stand By the flag o'er the Green ! " Oh, whence came the Spirit that then thrilled the land ? The flag was the blossom, but whence came the seed ? From Cambrian mountains a shelterless band Here planted their cause, and here prayed in their need, 'Mid Swansea's green oaks, and tent-groves of pine By the still Narragansett, the chrysoUte sea ; And Williams in exile his message divine Here uttered, and rose the red flag of the free. Defended by valor and virtue and votes, — The red flag of Taunton That waved o'er the Green. Here Vane, freedom's commoner, captain, and seer, For the birthrights of man scrolled his letters of fire. To dream on the Scilly Isles, sunless and drear. Of the land where his spirit would never expire. Here, shores of Rhode Island, here freedom was born. Here her twilight of gods first humanity cheered ; Here her prophets beheld the first star of the dawn, .Till Equality's knights their first watchwords upreared, Defended by valor and virtue and votes, On the red flag of Taunton That waved o'er the Green. Those days have departed; the shaded waves creep By Taunton, fair Taunton, as on that old day. Those men have departed; unmindful they sleep When the peace-trumpets blow and the war-bugles play. The house where they worshipped is gone, and one sees A poem of stone in its stead 'mid the trees ; And stars fill the banner that drifts on the breeze, Defended with valor and virtue and votes. Like the old flag of Taunton That waved o'er the Green. SOME STRANGE HISTORIC STORIES. The red flag of Taunton at old Brandywine Gave place to the flag of the Stripes and the Stars, And the bold words of " Union and Liberty " shine No more as of old 'mid the smoke-cloud of wars. Here Liberty reigns and her triumphs increase, And our Union of States is the empire of peace. And the sentinel's watch 'neath the flag does not cease ; But virtue defends it with valor and votes. Like the heroes of Taunton That stood on the Green. O sentinel, sentinel, stand, as of old, By the green earth beneath you, Equality's home ; By all that ye owe to the future untold ; By the blue sky above you, our liberty's dome ! From the doctrinaire's art, from the sectionist's hate. From passions that follow the demagogue's prate, From men who grow rich on the spoils of the State, Defend it with valor and virtue and votes. Like the sons of the heroes Of fair Taunton Green. The grand years have numbered one hundred and ten Since the old flag of freedom ascended the sky, And the fair Green of Taunton made heroes of men. As men saw the ejisign unrolling on high. One hundred and ten, and the new summer fills Her gold horns of plenty and banners the hills. And the spirit of old still the patriot thrills ; Still calling for valor and virtue and votes, While a million flags fly For that one on the Green. 143 CHAPTER V. THE OLD RED SETTLE GOES SOUTH. it ill ^^^^"^/HE old red settle went South, to the broad cool i ,4. '. r f^^^ veranda of an ancient mansion overlooking the ^*--=^^^S^ ^ Gulf, in the oldest town in America. B^^^^Sfeli^^ " We shall meet on the old red settle next win- J^^^^li^^H^ ter," said Mrs. Laurens to Mr. Leland and Charlie, ^^k i ^^^ ^ ^KL. ^j^ leaving the East; "and there we will tell you the stories of old Florida, a district as rich in tales as yours. Florida, you know, once extended to the Carolinas, and was the scene of the romances of the Yemassee." The Lelands went South during the month of February, begin- ning their historic visits at Washington. More than a century ago a young surveyor looked down from the hill where the Washington Observatory now stands, and in the landscape beheld with prophetic vision the site of a city. In his young mind, then and there the American Capital was conceived. He became the liberator of his country; he planned the city and rejoiced at its birth, but he never entered it as the .capital of the United States. Humboldt declared that the site of the city of Washington is the finest in the world ; and there is no more beautiful building on earth than that mountain of pure white marble that we call the Capitol. CAPITOL AT WASHlSlOTON. / THE OLD RED SETTLE GOES SOUTH. 1 47 Enter Washington on a moonlight night, when the white gar- ments of the Capitol glow, and the building itself seems fit for a palace for Selene ! How the majestic structure seems to stand over the city! Then the city seems under its dominion like an ancient army under the glittering shield of its queen. Go where you will, the white Capitol seems to stand in the air. Under the full moon it is one of the most beautiful structures on earth. French arms brought independence to the United States; and the Capital was planned by a Frenchman, Peter Charles I'Enfant, a gentleman of the best art-culture, who was born in France in 1755. He met with much opposition at first ; but the Washington of to-day, with its wheel of avenues, is the fulfilment of his poetic dream. Mr. Leland and Charlie had been in Washington before. They did not go there to see its modern wonders, but to begin an his- toric journey. A Zigzag journey it proved to be, indeed, — from the fine city that stands for America's heart and brain to the queen city of the Antilles, where the bones of the discoverer of America rest. One of the first detours was to Winchester, Va., to visit Greenway Court, where old Lord Fairfax lived, and the church where that fine old gentleman was buried. In connection with this excursion Mr. Leland related — THE ROMANCE OF LORD FAIRFAX. There are many interesting reminiscences connected with the life of this nobleman, whose name to this day is highly respected among the aristocratic families of the " Old Dominion," yet few are aware of the untoward circum- stances which threw him upon our shores. Lord Fairfax was a descendant of the old Fairfax family so renowned in English history during the reigns of the Charleses and the Georges, — a family loyal to kings and heroic in knightly deeds. In his youth Lord Fairfax was a gentleman of fashion in the highest circles 148 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. of London society, with no greater ambition than to sip the sweets of life and be considered a wit. As he grew older he had literary aspirations which tended to increase greatly his reputation. Yet we know nothing of his productions, although it is a matter of history that he was engaged in literary labors with Addison and was a firm friend of Steele. When he was about thirty years old, the lady to whom he was affianced, and upon whom he had expended a small fortune in expensive wedding-presents, rejected him on the eve of marriage and accepted a wealthier suitor. This terrible blow produced a great change in his disposition and habits, transforming the gay, social man into a disappointed recluse. About the same time he was extremely mortified at the loss of some of the Fairfax property in England, which had been entailed ; and thus weighed down by disappointment and wounded pride, he resolved to retire from the scenes and associations which had now become distasteful to him. After a 'final settle- ment of his affairs in England, he embarked, in the year 1750, for his far-away possessions in America. These unvisited estates he held in right of his mother, the daughter of Lord Culpepper, who received this land grant in Virginia from Charles IL as early as the year 1664. The house " Belvoir," to which Lord Fairfax came, and which was occu- pied by his cousin Sir William Fairfax, who had the management of his prop- erty, stood upon the Potomac River, a few miles below Mount Vernon ; and it was here the intimacy between this nobleman and George Washington, then a boy of sixteen, commenced. Lawrence Washington, the elder brother of George, had married a daughter of Sir William Fairfax, which tended to throw the sorrowful man and bright, intelligent boy intimately together as relatives, and afforded Lord Fairfax abundant opportunity to read the great possibilities in the character of his young favorite. He influenced the lad by his discreet example and judicious advice to such a degree that to him, probably more than to any other person, do we owe the development of those great characteristics which ultimately made him a ruler among men, the father of this great country. The possessions of Lord Fairfax covered an immense area of land, spreading far beyond the Blue Ridge, comprising the beautiful valley of the Shenandoah, yvhich had never been surveyed, and which had become the prey of " squatters," who even then considered that property-holders had no rights they were bound to respect, and who had planted themselves upon some of the most beautiful, fer- tile sites in the valley. Their audacity aroused Lord Fairfax to the necessity of making his title good. Herein opened the career of George Washington, which hardened his muscles and "toughened his manhood" for the leadership of the GEORGE WASHINGTON. THE OLD RED SETTLE GOES SOUTH. 151 Revolution. Lord Fairfax could have advanced his favorite's interests in almost any channel ; but with prudent foresight he engaged the boy who, although only eighteen, thoroughly understood surveying, to undertake the difficult and in those days perilous commission of mapping out his possessions. Young Washington remained three years in this occupation, for which he received as high as a doubloon and sometimes six pistoles (about twenty dollars) a day. After completing his commission, Washington returned to Lord Fairfax, whom he so delighted by his glowing accounts of the Shenandoah Valley that he at once removed beyond the Blue Ridge, and built a.house known as " Green- way Court," similar to the usual home of the pioneer settler, — a log-cabin. A fine mansion was subsequently built near the present village of Millwood ; but in the humble cabin, surrounded by his dogs. Lord Fairfax spent the remainder of his life. The Indians dearly loved this beautiful hunting-ground, and gave it the sweetest, most musical name in their language, — Shenandoah, " the Daughter of the Stars." Its wild, picturesque beauty was then at its height, undisturbed by the tread of civilization. After spending thirty years in this lovely region, assiduously devoting him- self to his duties as a landed proprietor. Lord Fairfax passed away in 1781, after the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown. His death was remarkable. He was nearly one hundred years old, or more than ninety. He had remained a Royalist, and was grieved to see the boy that he had loved and befriended the commander of the American army. They brought him the news of the surrender of Lord Cornwallis. " Joe," he said to his faithful colored servant, " it is time for me to die." He was taken to his bed, from which he never arose. The body of Thomas, Lord Fairfax, Baron of Cameron, the sixth of the name, lies in the little Episcopal church at Winchester, Va., the ground of which he gave to the church. The Leiands made another visit to a spot as interesting, — more sacred, if not so romantic. It was to Fredericksburg, to see the places associated with Washington's mother, and especially the place where she was buried- And here it is proper to give some account of — 152 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. THE TOMB OF THE MOTHER OF WASHINGTON. The mother of Washington passed her last years in Fredericksburg. She was a prayerful woman, trustful and devout. Near her residence were some picturesque rocks overshadowed by trees. A lover of woods, birds, and flowers, she used to retire in pleasant weather to this lovely spot for meditation and prayer. She there tasted the sweetness of which Cowper sings, — " The calm retreat, the silent shade. With prayer and praise agree, And seem by Thy sweet bounty made For those who follow Thee." Here the still twilights of the summer days during the stormy period of the American Revolution found the mother of Washington praying. The burden of her prayers is known only to God. No step followed her to that leafy sanctuary. One cannot doubt that she prayed for her country and for her son, and that her prayers were heard in heaven. This pl^ce of devotion became to her one of the dearest spots on earth, and she selected it for her grave. The spring of 1789 found her at the age of fourscore and five years suffering from an incurable disease. Just before entering upon the duties of the presi- dential office, Washington hastened to Fredericksburg to make her a visit. It was their last interview. " The people," said Washington, after the first emotions incident to such a meeting had subsided, " have been pleased to elect me to the magistracy of the United States. I have come to bid you farewell. As soon as the business of arranging the new government is over, I shall hasten to Virginia and — " " You will never see me more," said the venerable woman. " My great age and the disease from which I am suffering warn me that I shall not be long in . the world. I trust God I am somewhat prepared for a better. But go, George, fulfil the destiny Heaven assigns you ; and may Heaven's and your mother's blessing be with you always ! " Washington wept like a child, kissed her furrowed cheek, then went forth to the great work before him. Her grave was long neglected. As Mrs Sigourney sweetly and touchingly told the tale, — " Nature stole In her soft minstrelsy around thy bed, Spreading her vernal tissue, violet gemmed. And pearled with dews. THE OLD RED SETTLE GOES SOUTH. 1 53 " She bade bright flowers spring, Gifts of frankincense with sweet song of bird ; And Autumn cast his reaper's coronet Down at thy feet, and stormy Winter spealc Sternly of man's neglect." In 1833 a monument was commenced over her grave, the corner-stone of which was laid by President Jackson. On it is the inscription: — MARY, THE MOTHER OF WASHINGTON. The monument stands near the rocks associated with her devotions. It is picturesque, but unfinished. The Lelands' visits to the public buildings need not be described, as such visits have little to do with the purpose of our narrative. The city of Washington recalls the events of the lives of all the Presidents. Pennsylvania Avenue has been walked by them all, even by Washington before it received its name. THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT. More than a century ago, in the year 1783, the Congress of the United States passed resolutions providing for a memorial to General Washington. This memorial was to be erected at the permanent seat of government of the United States, — then a newly created nation- ality. The War of Independence was ended, and the country was universally grateful to the noble leader to whose efforts they justly ascribed a great measure of its success. Ten years later, the Commissioners who laid out the District of Colombia set apart a tract of land between the site of the Presi- dent's mansion and the Potomac River as the spot where this national tribute to Washington was to be erected ; and their report in which this reservation was established President Washington himself trans- mitted to Congress. 154 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. He died in 1799, in the beli^ef that on that pleasant slope, over- looking the broad Potomac, his services to the country would be commemorated. The whole project slumbered until 1833, — fifty years after Congress had voted to make a memorial to him, — and then it was revived again by private enterprise. A meeting of citizens of Washington was held in September, 1833, and an association was formed for the purpose of erecting a national monument to Washington. The original plan was to procure the money by subscriptions of one dollar each. The amount raised was not large. A new subscription was begun in 1846, and by the year 1854 a sum of a little more than a quarter of a million dollars had been obtained. Work had been begun, however, some years before ; and the corner- stone of the monument was laid on the 4th of Jul}', 1848, on which occasion a fine oration was delivered by the Hon. Robert C. Winthrop, then Speaker of the House of Representatives. The contributions, however, began to fall off; and finally, when the monument had reached the height of one hundred and eighty feet, construction ceased. A period of neglect and indifference followed, ending inijthe Civil War and the exciting questions which were at issue after the war closed, causing the shame of this unfinished monument to be forgotten. But in 1876, — the centennial year, — Congress made an appropriation towards the completion of the monument. The foundations were examined and found to be defective. The work of enlarging and strengthening them was not completed until 1880, when construction upon the monument itself was resumed. The monument is the most lofty structure ever erected by man. Its height was originally intended to be six hundred feet ; but owing to its enormous weight, it was not deemed wise to carry the monu- ment so high. Its height is five hundred and fifty-five feet. Its exterior is of Maryland marble, and the interior is Maine granite. THE OLD RED SETTLE GOES SOUTH. 155 The foundation is one hundred and twenty-six feet six inches square at the base. The obelisk itself is fifty-five feet square at the base, and tapers to the top. The walls are fifteen feet thick at the bottom, but gradually become thinner -until at the top they are only one foot six inches thick, and the monument is there thirty-four feet square. Each State in the Union sent a block of stone to be set in the interior, and many cities as well as several foreign countries have done likewise. These contributions, many of them highly polished and elegantly inscribed, make the monument a museum of mineralogical treasures. Of the beauty of the monument there is not much to be said. It is not graceful or elegant. Those who wish to find beauty in it, how- ever, will say that it befits republican, simplicity and the rugged hon- esty and virtue of Washington. But if it does not gratify ccsthetic taste, it will none the less serve as a memorial to recall to all future generations the heroic life and noble character of the first and greatest of Americans. FORD'S THEATRE. The place that interested the Lelands the most in the city of Washington, having seen the great buildings on a previous visit, was Ford's Theatre, the scene of the awful tragedy of April 14, 1865. The building is no longer used for a theatre, but as a place for medical stores and a medical museum. The house where Lincoln died was found to be more interesting than the grim-looking storehouse, and awakened more tender associations. An incident said to have been related by Mr. Lincoln to a friend was recalled by Mr. Leland. ' " I am weary of the CcLres of .State," said Mr. Lincoln to his wife after his second inauguration and before the tragedy. " When my 156 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. term is over, I mean to go to Palestine, and visit the places where Christ lived." The dream seemed to glow in his mind like a rainbow, and to haunt him. GOLDEN HORSESHOES. The ^tory of Governor Spotswood and his heroic march over the Blue Ridge, and his knightly order of golden horseshoes was sug- gested by these detours about Washington and in Virginia. Spotswood carved the name of King George on one of the highest , points of the Blue Ridge. " Let him hereafter who would drink to the health of the King, drink here;" he said to his explorers. " He shall have a golden horse- shoe who drinks the King's health here, and penetrates into the regions beyond," he afterward proclaimed. The cavaliers won their colors, but the pioneers of a later date are more worthy of golden horseshoes. Washington ! The dome of the Capitol crowns it, — a white crowned god! But how has a place in its national halls proved the coronation of men of noble aspirations and struggles ! Mr. Leland related to Charlie stories of the grand old days of the early Presidents and Congressmen who had represented the American struggle for development, — ^ men from the farm and shop, — boys who were laughed at, and who rose on the rounds of the ladder of thfeir own efforts. THE BOYHOOD OF EMINENT CONGRESSMEN. " It ought to encourage some poor boy who desires to prepare himself for the best callings of life," he said, " to know that some of the men who have been prominent in our National Congress were not the sons of wealthy parents, but were obliged to work for their own GOVERNOR SPOTSWOOD ON THE BLUE RIDGE. THE OLD RED SETTLE GOES SOUTH. 159 support, and under this disadvantage to find time for the improve- ment of their minds. " It is a remarkable fact that a large number of American states- men have been farmer boys and apprentices. It is also an interesting fact that these boys acquired the rudiments of their education" by reso- lute self-denial, working at their books while others were playing, idling, or sleeping. " The course pursued by many of them was to obtain an education sufficient to teach a district school, and to earn money enough by teaching to pay for instruction in academic and professional studies. Self-instruction, teaching, and a course of professional training have been the three steps upon which numerous Americans have reached the most honorable positions of statesmanship. " George S. Boutwell, James Brooks, Horace Greeley, Hannibal Hamlin, John B. Henderson, James K. Moorhead, James H. Wood- worth, Henry G. Raymond, Samuel A. Smith, Silas Wright, Sam Houston, Lewis Cass, James A. Garfield, Abraham Lincoln, and many others whose names have filled less conspicuous places in American political history, were hard-working farmer boys. They earned their bread by farm labor, and used their spare hours for study. " Benjamin F. Wade, only twelve years before he was elected to Congress, was employed with a spade and wheelbarrow on the Erie Canal. But his mind was at work as well as his hands ; and with the feeling that God had given him mental qualities that should be used to influence others, he struggled until his aspirations were realized. " Daniel Webster knew what it was to use the axe and the hoe, and his hands bore the marks of honorable toil ; but it must be admitted that he was not much of a farmer. His brother used to say that his father sent Daniel to college to make him equal to the rest of the family. " George S. Boutwell, Allen A. Bradford, Henry L. Dawes, Daniel S. Dickinson, Cyrus L. Dunham, Sidney Edgerton, John B. Hender- l6o A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. ^ son, Edward H. Rollins, Owen Lovejoy, Thomas Ewing, Henry G. Raymond, Benjamin F. Wade, and very many other Congressmen paid wholly or in part for their literary education by teaching. Each of these knew the vicissitudes and struggles of poverty, or the pressure of limited circumstances in early life. " John B. Alley was apprenticed to a shoemaker when a lad, but he put his mind at work with his last. James M. Ashley was self- educated, having been thrown upon the world to make his own fortune at the age of fifteen. He found employment for a considerable period on one of the Ohio and Mississippi steamboats. He repaired in part the defects of his early education by obtaining employment in a printing-office. " Joseph Bailey, one of the twelve Democrats who voted for the Constitutional Amendment abolishing slavery, acquired by his own exertions all the education that he ever received. V-"*. ""George N. Briggs learned the trade of a hatter, and his early life 'w'a^ full of generous inspirations and manly struggles. Nathaniel P. ;»fednfe,wM- a|'^pbbin boy. He aspired to be a public speaker even yhefii|v^- wa^'^atjwork amid the din of machinery and the flying of 'gipi.i;idles,^9^ •sptight to cultivate his forensic tastes by attending the meeting^', of; -a debating-club. " Andrew Johnson, who was really a noble boy, was hungry for books and learning during all his early days of toil, but he was never able to attend school. He was apprenticed to a tailor. Few men ever worked more resolutely for self-improvement than he. " John B. Alley, Isaac Hill, James K. Moorhead, Millard Fillmore, Roger Sherman, and many others were apprentices. Erastus Corning was a clerk. Thomas Corwin was a penniless boy. John S. Carlyle and Thomas Ewing were thrown upon their own exertions in boyhood. The former was educated by his mother ; the latter by his sister. " A number of distinguished Congressmen were left orphans at an early age, and were obliged in youth to bear the burdens that belong <:>"' THE OLD RED SETTLE GOES SOUTH. l6l to mature years. Among these we may mention Augustus C. Baldwin, Simon Cameron, Alexander H. Stevens, the lamented Sena- tor Baker, who fell at Leesburg, and Stephen A. Douglas. " Vice-President Colfax was left an orphan in childhood, and when about eleven years of age he began to contribute towards his own support and the support of his mother by working in a store. " These eminent men worked with young hands as well as with young brains. There was no sunny, dreamy period in their lives, free from care, which answers our poetic conceptions of youth. The cares and responsibilities of life came upon them at once. They were schooled in realities, and not in pleasure-seeking. " The lesson of these examples is that success is within the reach of earnest minds, however great may be the obstacles in the way of its attainment. Poetry never sang more truly than in the following lines of Coates Kenney : — ^ „ ,. --^ . ^^^(^^ " Destiny is not ^Jii ^ St ^. Without thee, but within. Thyself must make thyself ; The agonizing throes of thought, — These bring forth glory, Bring forth destiny." TO JAMESTOWN AND RICHMOND. Mr. Leland and Charlie went to Richmond by the way of Norfolk and the James, passing Mount Vernon. They approached Jamestown with deep interest. " It is yonder," said a friend on the boat. A solitary tower appeared, — a ruin. " Is that all that is left } " asked Charlie. " Yes, all." Yet there America began. There assembled the first House of Burgesses, and there the first white child in America was born. There 162 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. rose the fabric of the young nation out of the dreams of Sir Walter Raleigh, and there Virginia received its name in honor of the virgin queen. There Powhattan was made king by an English coronation, and there were the scenes of a most romantic Indian history. Van- ished all, — the only monument a ruined tower! Mr. Leland recalled, while passing the ruin, the story of the sending of wives by the old Virginia Company to the bachelor colony. " They were women of good credit," he said, " selected from the working families of London and other places. They were as eager for husbands as the planters were for wives. The company sent them over at its own expense, and it was stipulated that no man who was not able to support a wife should court one of them. Their coming was eagerly awaited, and they had hardly landed when the wooing began. Such sudden courtships and marriages were rarely if ever known before in any colony. The marriages, however, seem generally to have proved happy." Richmond is full of life and enterprise. But it was the Richmond of the long past that our friends came to see. One of the most inter- esting places to them was the St, John's Church. " We must fight ! I repeat it, sir, we must fight ! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us!" — These words are part of a speech by Patrick Henry, delivered in 1775, which is to be found in almost every school Speaker. We have heard it spoken by boys many times ; all utter these words in the wroijg way. There are still old men in Virginia whose grandfathers heard this speech in 1775 ; and those words, they say, were not spoken in a loud, vehement manner, as boys usually speak them, but in a low tone and with the deepest solemnity. St. John's Church, in which the speech was spoken, is still standing at Richmond. It is a small church, built at a time when Richmond was only a village, and it was intended to seat about two hundred persons in its oaken pews. THE OLD RED SETTLE GOES SOUTH. 165 If Patrick Henry had shrieked those sentences, as 1 have heard some boys shriek them, the effect would have been more laughable than impressive in so small a room. It was a time when every patriot in Virginia was most anxious for his country. The first. Congress had sat and adjourned, and it seemed to many that the Colonies had then done all that they could to bring the King of England to his senses. The feeling was general that it was impossible for the Colonies to contend with Great Britain in arms. Patrick Henry thought otherwise, and he supported his opinion with a number of powerful arguments. But this great orator had a way of putting his whole speech, after he had argued the matter, into one electric sentence, which pierced every ear, and remained in the memory ever after. He did so on this occasion, when he said in the lowest tones of his wonderful voice, — " We must fight ! I repeat' it, sir, we must fight ! " He spoke for America. His was the voice of destiny. The voice makes the church a monument ; and the church, like the Old South in Boston, should be eternally sacred to the heart of the great Republic. THE STORY OF WASHINGTON'S LIFE AT HOME. It is one hundred and fifty-four years since George Washington was born, on the 22d of February, 1732, and a little more than eighty-six years since he died, a retired Virginia farmer, at Mount Vernon, on the 14th of Decmnber, 1799. Whenever we approach the anniversary of his birth, it is pleasant to look at him not as a public man, but as he appeared in ordinary occupations of his life at home and as a Virginia planter. It is said that when at Mount Vernon, it was his habit to rise before the dawn of day in the dark mornings of winter. He struck a light in his tinder-box and kindled his own fire when the morning was cold, and lighted also the tallow candles, made under Mrs. Washington's superintendence. Contrary to the custom of the wealthy planters of Virginia, he dressed and shaved himself, except that a servant combed his hair and tied his queue. 1 66 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. His shaving apparatus has been preserved to this day by the descendants of his step-son, Mr. Custis. As soon as he was dressed, he usually wrote some of his business corre- spondence, made entries in his diary, and wrote out directions for his overseers. Desk-work he disliked, but he performed it with care and exactness. This irksome labor done, he went to the stable near the mansion house, and enjoyed a long inspection of his horses, of which he was extremely fond. He WASHINGTON'S HOUSE AT MOUNT VERNON. usually had about twenty carriage and saddle horses in the home stable, beside fifty or sixty draught-horses, on the farms which composed his estate. A love of the horse was hereditary in the Washington family. His own mother, it is said, was as good a judge of a horse as any man in Virginia. Upon returning from the stable, Washington sat down to an old-fashioned Virginia breakfast, which consisted chiefly of the four ,^'s, — hominy, ham, hoe-cake, and honey, — with a cup or two of tea or coffee. He was a good THE OLD RED SETTLE GOES SOUTH. 167 eater, but preferred honest, plain food ; and almost everything he ate was produced on his own estate. Breakfast over, he entered upon the business of the day. Generally, in fine weather, his horse was ready saddled for him as soon as he had left the table, WASHINGTON'S GRAVE AT MOUNT VERNON. and on most days he had business which required attention at some distant farm. His estate consisted of three thousand two hundred and sixty acres, divided into five farms, each having its own overseer, its own barns, stables, and negro quarter. His slaves usually numbered between four hundred and fifty 1 68 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. and five hundred, who were like so many children in having to be clothed, fed, doctored, housed, and directed by their master. Under Mrs. Washington's own eye all their clothes were cut and made ; and if sickness broke out in one of the quarters, it was the General himself who commonly visited and prescribed for them, often giving them their medicine with his own hands. Sometimes, in periods of epidemic, he would spend many hours of the night in their huts. All good planters did so ; and indeed we may justly boast that no slaves were ever so well cared for as those of the Southern States. That is not saying much, but so much we can say. We may imagine, therefore, that General Washington had a great deal of hard riding to do when he was at home. Mr. Custis, his step-son, records that he rode about his farms unattended by a servant, although he often had to dis- mount to let down the bars. His morning ride on farm business averaged from twelve to fifteen miles ; but he frequently stopped on the way, and did not usually return much before dinner-time, which was two o'clock. A gentleman once rode out in search of him, and asked Mr. Custis how he should know t]j.e General when he met him. The young man replied, — " You will meet, sir, an old gentleman riding alone, in plain drab clothes and a broad-brimmed white hat, with a hickory switch in his hand, and carrying an umbrella with a long staff, which is attached to his saddle-bow. That person, sir, is General Washington." Mr. Custis explains that the General's skin was tender, and he carried the umbrella as a protection against the sun. Upon the whole, he was an excellent farmer. To be sure, he complained on one occasion that although he had a hundred and one cows, he was obliged to buy butter for his own table. On the other hand, he produced such excellent wheat and put up his flour so carefully that a barrel of flour bearing the brand of George Washington, Mount Vernon, was admitted into West India ports without inspection. Like Jefferson and Madison, and the other noble farmers of that period, he was very zealous in raising superior breeds of farm animals, — a matter of, great importance then, when the common breeds had become exceedingly degenerate. He tried the English sheep, the Berkshire pig, and horses bred from Arab stock. Perhaps he succeeded best with the mule. The King of Spain, knowing his tastes, gave him a small drove of very superior asses, and sent with them a man acquainted with the whole business of raising mules. A little later, the Marquis de Lafayette sent him a number of the same animals from Malta. In a few THE OLD RED SETTLE GOES SOUTH. 169 years the mules of Mount Vernon became famous all over Virginia ; and some of them were sold for two hundred dollars each, which was at that time more liian double the price of a good working-horse. Dinner at Mount Vernon was generally at two ; on ceremonious occasions, dt three ; and the General waited for no man beyond five minutes, which he allowed for the difference of watches. " My cook," said he, " does not ask whether the guests have arrived, but whether the hour has." He did not always dress for dinner. This we know because he owed his death to sitting down to the table in his wet clothes after a long morning ride. Usually, however, he did so, as every one should who fairly can. He liked all the good old Virginian dishes, particularly Virginia hams, famous then as now. Mr. Custis records that on one occasion the ham did not appear at the dinner-table ; and Mrs. Washington, with some irritation, inquired the reason. The truth had to be told, which was that the General's favorite hound Vulcan had come into the kitchen while the ham was smoking -in its dish, and carried it off into the woods in defiance of the whole kitchen. The lady of the mansion did not relish the incident, but the master and all his guests laughed heartily. The General liked to sit long at table, eating hickory nuts and talking over his farming, his fox-hunting, and his early campaigns. His guests seldom succeeded in making him talk of the Revolutionary War ; but nothing pleased him better than to relate incidents of the Braddock cam- paign, and of his early adventures as a surveyor and volunteer soldier. In the. evenings, when there was no ball at Alexandria, he loved a quiet game of cards, but went to bed soon after the primitive hour of nine. We have two night anecdotes of his Mount Vernon life. One guest, who slept in the room next to that of the General and his wife, separated from theirs only by a thin partition, reports that he overheard the lady giving her husband a curtain lecture, which he received in becoming silence, and when it was over, gently remarked, — " And now good sleep to you, my dear." The Lelands went to Fayetteville, N. C, and there visited the old place where Flora Macdonald had lived. They then went to Charleston, CHAPTER VI. CHARLESTON, AND THE STORIES OF WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS. ORT ROYAL, S. C, was the sister of Plymouth, Mass., in the pioneer sisterhoods of American settlements. To the former came the Huguenots, to the latter the Puritan ; the gentle blood and tender conscience of France to one, and the strong will and heroic aim of England's best yeomen to the other. Each community sought to be governed by God. Grand names are those that appear on the early records of the history of South Carolina, — the men who came to Port Royal to build New France, and fulfil Coligny's glorious dream. A Palatinate was established, and the eldest of the Lords Proprietors was constituted Palatine by the number of his years, — an election of fate that was sup- posed to bring with it the wisdom of experience. Then came the English ; and John Locke, the greatest of England's philosophers, framed the constitution for the province after the pattern of Plato's model Republic. The new colony of French and English never stained their record by religious persecutions. South Carolina struck boldly with Massa- chusetts and Virginia for independence in Revolutionary days, and Rhode Island sent to her that wonderful hero. General Greene. Marion, famous in song and story, became her hero, — a solitary man, all soul and purpose, who was ready to starve for a cause. He CHARLESTON. i7r and his men gave up everything for liberty. There is no romance of the Revolution like his. Mr. Leland and Charlie were introduced at Charleston to the greatest poet that the South has produced, — a slender-looking but CHARLESTON. most courtly and gracious man, Paul Hamilton Hayne. Poets are the voices of their places and times, and in Mr. Hayne the South has found a voice that will always be heard in history. Mr. Hayne is of gentle blood and historic family. His ancestors were noble in England, and the family have been conspicuous in polit- ical events through all the years of South Carolina's history. He was 1 72 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. born in Charleston, Jan. i, 1830. He lost his property by the war, became an invalid, and was compelled to go away from the coast to the Pine Barrens. He lives in a rui'al cottage at Copse Hill, Augusta, Ga. His wife is a daughter of an eminent French physician who received a gold medal from Napoleon HI., and his only son is one of the most promising of America's young poets. Mr. Leland and Charlie asked Colonel Hayne for some incidents of the life of William Gilmore Simms, the novelist. Mr. Simms was a friend of Colonel Hayne in the latter's early days, and the inva- lid poet's recollections of him were most sympathetic. WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS. When I was a schoolboy in the venerable city of Charleston, — my native place, — I observed one morning at recess, while engaged with a score of my companions in the animated game of "shinny,"^ that a certain classmate of ours, noted generally for his love of sport, had withdrawn himself from us, and was busily reading some mysterious volume in a corner of the playground. I knew very well it could not be a school-book, a Csesar or Xenophon, because Martin Mayham, although a clever lad, rather disliked Latin, and for Greek he entertained a mortal aversion. In a pause of the game I approached him, where he sat comfortably tilted back in his chair against the trunk of a great, blossoming Pride-of-India tree. "What book is that, Mayham ?". I inquired. "Don't bother!" was the uncourtly rejoinder. "Wait till I see which one of these two fellows is going to get the better of the other." But a puff of wind at that moment blew the leaves of the work over towards the titlepage, upon which I saw in big capitals, "THE PARTISAN, A Romance of the Revolution. By William Gilmore Simms." Surely an inviting ■ The game with this uncouth name was very popular among Southern schoolboys thirty or forty years ago. A score or two of lads armed with long sticks curved at one end would divide into companies of equal number, and fronting each other would strive to see which side could drive to a previously appointed goal a ball dropped between them. Of course there never were two goals in opposite directions. The cant term " shindy," as used to signify a promiscuous fight or struggle, may have suggested the title of this game. CHARLESTON. 173 title, with fascinating suggestions of battles, of vivid movement and dramatic adventure ! It captured my fancy ; and therefore, when the youthful reader then devour- ing its chapters came to " Finis " the next day, I borrowed the tale of him, and grew equally interested in it myself. Indeed, the story proved so absorbing that I neglected my studies, and under cover of the uplifted lid of a large desk perused its pages assiduously during school hours. Our teacher, Mr. Christopher Coats (he always used to sign his name, as it seemed to me with great irreverence, " Christ. Coats ") had, like Old Squeers in " Nicholas Nickleby," but one eye. Yet this solitary optic was wonderfully piercing and far-sighted. It detected my wrong-doing, of course ; and very rudely was I awak- ened from the charms of fiction by an ominous whizz in the rear, and such a shower of blows across back and shoul- ders that the bare memory of them is enough to make the flesh shrink ! Pedagogues in those benighted times dealt not in " moral suasion," but in stout Malacca canes. Thus my introduction to the genius of Simms was signalized by quite a striking circumstance, as impressive sumter. physically as mentally. And now I will tell you something of the life and Uterary career of this remarkable man, the " Fenimore Cooper of the South." He was born in Charleston, S. C, in the April of 1806. His father was of Scotch-Irish extraction, and bequeathed to him a lively, enthusiastic tem- perament and a powerful physique; from his mother — one of the Carolina Singletons — he probably derived the finer traits of imagination, sensibility, and artistic; force. The mother died during his early childhood ; and the elder Simms emigra- ting soon after to the West, his son was left to the sole care of the paternal grandmother. She appears to have been a shrewd and sensible old lady. Repeatedly I have heard Simms — with whom I became personally intimate in later years — allude to her, not merely with affection but with admiration. 174 "^ ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUIH. " I don't believe," he used to say, " that Haroun-al-Raschid was ever so charmed by the tales of Scheherezade, as I, when a boy, by the narrations of ray grandmother about Whigs, Tories, and Indians, and all the stirring scenes of the Revolutionary conflict ! She herself was a red-hot Whig, or patriot ; and grew particularly indignant in describing how my father, a mere lad, was hurried, together with forty other citizens of Charleston, on board a British prison-ship, where hundreds died from ill-treatment and close quarters." When but eight years old, Simms composed verses, — ballads of war and chivalry. He published nothing, however, until he was seventeen or eighteen, when a " Monody " appeared " upon the Death of General Charles Cotesworth Pinckney," — a Revolutionary celebrity. This was speedily followed by two volumes of " Early Lays," exceedingly clever and full of poetical promise. The author, in fact, possessed the instinct and endowments of the true poet, but unfortunately lacked both leisure and patience for that /ador limce, or polishing " work of the file," which is essential to permanent artistic success. Many a diamond of thought and expression may be found in his poems; only they lie imbedded in a mass of crude, diffuse, half-jg^aotic matter, and few are willing to take the trouble of unearthing them ! His fame must therefore rest upon his prose works chiefly. It was in 1835 that the. Harpers published the book already mentioned, " The Partisan." This production opened a new vein of romance, — the Revo- lutionary and social life of the South, — and proved wonderfully popular. It constituted the first of a Trilogy, of which the concluding tales were " Melli- champe " and " Katherine Walton ; " all of them characterized by a vivid and picturesque style, intensity of action, and fine dramatic contrast. One feels, in reading them, as if " the times which tried men's souls" had returned, and we ourselves were actual spectators of the strife, the agony, or the triumph. As historical pictures they are invaluable. Moultrie, Marion, Sumter, Pickens, and other distinguished Americans are brilliantly portrayed , while upon the British side, no less clear and full of vraisemblance are the portraits of Cornwallis, Tarleton, Proctor, and Balfour. " Katherine Walton " is particularly noteworthy, as the only work we know which gives a perfect idea of the society in Charleston, military and civil, during the occupation of that city by the British troops. Despite the war, there was a great deal of gayety. The English officers gave balls and parties to which the ladies were specially invited, — even the Whig ladies, whom they wished to conciliate. ,We hear much of the rival beauties of that day. The prettiest of the fashionable Tory belles, a charming brunette, was named Paulina Phelps. CHARLESTON. 175 " Mad Archie Campbell," an English captain distinguished for his eccen- tricities, fell in love with her, and though he received but little encouragement, had the impudence to make a bet with the major of his regiment, to the effect that on a certain day he would marry Paulina, whether she liked it or not ! And how do you think that he managed to accomplish his purpose ? He called one fine afternoon upon the young lady, in a stylish gig, just large enough for two, and drawn by a blooded horse as swift as he was graceful and well-trained. " Miss Paulina," said Campbell, " may I have the honor of taking you for a drive some few miles out into the country ? " She consented, and no doubt enjoyed herself at first, since the spring weather was exhilarating and the land- scape attractive. But soon she began to notice a peculiar wildness in her compan- ion's manner. He drove very much at random, graz- ing a tree here and a ditch there ; and finally, having reached a neglected grave- yard, with its walls down on the side of the road, actually urged his horse among and even over the crumbling tombstones, at the risk of breaking not only the ve- hicle, but his fair partner's neck ! He behaved so badly, indeed, as fully to justify his nickname ; and you may be sure that Paulina was relieved when at length he drew rein at the gate of the country par- sonage. " Alight and rest yourself," said Campbell, offering her his hand with the utmost nonchalance. She would not observe it, however, and being a tall, dignified young woman, walked past him in haughty silence, though still internally quivering with fear, to the parsonage porch. There her cavalier joined her, and they entered the house together. The clergyman met them in the hall, loosely slippered, and altogether en dhhabilU, not having expected visitors. " We are here to be married," said Campbell, abruptly. " Come, your Rev- erence, perform the ceremony ! Time presses." Paulina laughed a little, trembling, contemptuous laugh ; and assured the clergyman that she was not engaged to Captain Campbell, that he had been MARION. 176 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. unpardonably rude and reckless, and that she placed herself under his (the clergyman's) protection. " We are to be married," rejoined the soldier, whose " madness had a method " in it, " and that immediately ! Don't let us burn daylight on waste words." Expostulation followed on the parson's side, and tears on the lady's ; but the soldier of fortune was, obdurate. Very coolly he produced a horse-pistol, and told the elderly churchman " to marry him on the spot, or submit to a leaden pill ! " The ceremony was performed under protest ; and Campbell returned to the city, the possessor of a lovely though reluctant bride, and the winner of a bet which covered, it is said, a considerable amount. The oddest part of the affair is that he does not seem to have been called to account for his brutal conduct by any one of Miss Phelps's relatives. But in less than six months after, " Mad Archie," having been taken prisoner by the Americans, and refusing to submit to any control, was shot and killed by one of his captors. Therefore, as the Scotch say, he was made " to dree his weird " at last ! Simms's novels abound in curious and entertaining stories and traditions clearly illustrative of the manners and incidents of the "olden time." " The Scout,'' " Woodcraft," " The Forayers," and " Eutaw " were subse- quently added to the Revolutionary series ; while of his border tales, " Beau- champ," founded upon a Kentucky tragedy, is the most vigorous and artistic. His principal' colonial romances are " The Yemassee " and " The Cassique of Kiawah." The former shows his appreciation of Indian character, and a force and skill in portraying it not unequal to Cooper's. "The Cassique" is so rapid in movement, so adroit in disposition of events, so picturesque, dra- matic, and true in minutest detail to the period and people introduced, that, for my part, I have perused it a dozen times over with undiminished interest. Biography is indebted to this indefatigable worker for admirable lives of General Francis Marion, the famous Carolina " swamp fox ; " of General Nathaniel Greene ; of John Smith and Pocahontas ; and finally, of the illustrious Chevalier Bayard. As for his miscellanies — political, historical, social, and philosophical — their name is legion. Altogether, he was a more voluminous author than Walter Scott, rivalled in this respect Alexandre Dumas P^re, and may almost be compared in exhaustless fertility of fancy to Lope de Vega himself ! Simms was one of the finest-looking men I ever saw ; tall, erect as a poplar, with a superb forehead, and a bluish-gray eye, which in moments ol excitement flashed like a scimitar. CHARLESTON. 177 He delighted in the society of intelligent young men. An informal club, literary and social, was organized in Charleston, of which he was made Presi- ident. We met during the summer months at each other's houses to discuss a hundred different topics of art and letters. We also discussed certain appe- tizing little dishes, well known to the Southern cuisine. Simms reminded one then of a great boy out of school ! How he jested and laughed over his own racy anecdotes ! Care and trouble for the time were scared away. It might have cheered a misanthrope to hear his sonorous " Ha ! ha ! " loud and joyful as the consign of Denis of Burgundy in Mr. Charles Reade's famous mediaeval novel, "The Cloister and the Hearth," — "Courage, mon ami, le diable. est mort ! " During the winter Simms resided in the country at his place called " Wood- lands," about eighty miles from the seaboard. Such a host as he was, — so considerate of one's comfort, so free-handed and cordial, and altogether kind- hearted, despite a frequent dogmatism of manner when arguments ran high ! " Woodlands," indeed, could justly have been styled " Hospitality Hall." In the zenith of Simms's fame the house was often thronged with guests for weeks together. Distinguished persons from the North and abroad visited him : among these were William Cullen Bryant, with whom he was intimate ; James, the English novelist ; and scores of other notabilities. On the ground-floor of his substantial English-looking mansion was a spacious study, the author's sanctum sanctorum. I have seen him there stand- ing by his desk and busily composing from nine o'clock a. m. until the bell sounded for dinner. Then would he give his thoughts a brief holiday ! A sad domestic affliction — the death of his wife — in 1863 permanently affected his spirits, though not his mental energy. He labored to the very last with unconquerable resolution. In a letter now before me of March, 1867, he observes : " I have six children left out of fifteen, and three grandchildren. Now I wish to live long enough to see them fairly embarked in the voyage of existence, with a proper knowledge of the helm. After that, what matters .' Beyond these, life has few objects for me ; yet these suffice to make me desire that I may be permitted to die in harness, spurs at heel, lance in rest, and in the heat of a desperate charge ! Sinking ' into the lean and slippered pantaloon,' dealing in old saws and drowsy proverbs, does not suit my taste. I am for action to the last ; for life is so much warfare against sin, temptation, and the devil ! " In the autumn of 1868 Simms visited New York, and there took a contract for three romances, all to be worked at the same time ! 12 178 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. " I went rigidly to work," he says, " eoncentrating myself at the desk from the 20th of October, 1S68, to the ist of July, 1869, nearly nine months! . . . I finished two of these books, but broke down upon the third, having penned during that period three thousand pages of manuscript." So tremendous an effort was fatal to his already undermined c^jnstitution. Passing through Charleston a few months previous to his decease, I called to see him at his daughter's home, and was shocked by the great change in his ap- pearance. His once ruddy cheeks were emaciated and pale, his limbs gaunt and wasted, his hair white as snow; but he still stood erect, like some storm-smitten pine which the elements might break, but could not bend ! There was mus- cular force still in the hearty grasp, although it quivered slightly ; and from the sunken eyes would dart now and again a flash of the old enthusiasm. I look back upon the last evening spent in his society with a strange, dream- like, melancholy feeling. I knew then that on earth we would meet no more ; and a choking sensation mastered me, as his hand fell from mine, unloosened in a final grasp of friendship. The old man had insisted upon accom- panying me to the door ; and my last f glimpse of him rested upon his gray but stately head, somewhat elevated, his mourn- ful eyes gazing forth into the misty night, and the long patriarchal beard glittering in the lamplight ! On a quiet summer's afternoon in the month of June, 1870, in the beautiful old city he had loved so passionately, with his family and friends around him, and his dying eyes fixed on the Redeemer's cross, he passed tranquilly away.^ He lies at peace in one of the loveliest of Southern cemeteries, " Magnolia," tiear Charleston, — breezes from the ocean and the river rustling among the ancient oaks which bow majestically above his grave. His career was one of ' There is a strange and most pathetic circumstance associated with Simms's death. A lady friend who had been most attentive during his last illness wrote me as follows : " I made garlands of laurel and bay, and wove too a cross of white immortelles, which I placed in his poor emaciated hands, as he rested in the last slumber. The fingers refused to take any other position than their natural one, — drawn up as if to write ! " PICKENS. CHARLESTON. 1 79 difficulty and trial, but " after life's fitful fever he sleeps well ! " Unconventional and even rough occasionally in manner, his nature was sterling and sound to the core. As for his works, the best of them have taken their place in the permanent literature of America ; nor are they unknown in Europe. Several of his Ro- mances have been translated into German ; and in 1883 the "London Quarterly" referred to him as a writer of " powerful sketches of genuine American incident, — productions of permanent value because of their fidelity and force of charac- terization." This reviewer concludes, and justly, that " the United States have thus far produced few imaginative authors of greater desert than Simms," and he maintains that " so meritorious a writer is not likely to be forgotten by his countrymen." The frequent lack of art in his style — his too hasty and careless mode of composition — has subjected him to the ridicule of a certain class of finical and fastidious critics, to whom a perfect style is more important than original creative power and virility of imagination. We think he will survive their contempt. " NON OMNEM MORITURAM ! " ^ 1 This account of Simms was generously furnished by one of the novelist's intimate friends, Colonel Paul H. Hayne, of Augusta, Ga. A part of the narrative was originally published in the " Youth's Companion." * CHAPTER VII. BEAUTIFUL SAVANNAH, AND SOUTHWARD. AVANNAH is one of the most beautiful cities in America. Its early history is a poem. Non sibi sed aliis, was the motto of the noble' English company that founded Georgia, — " Not for us, but for others." Governor Oglethorpe, one of the world's bene- factors, great in mind, in heart, and in inspiration, came to America in the spirit of the motto of the English company. He ascended the Savannah River some eighteen fniles, saw a fine bluff, and on it he resolved to found a city, and make that city a home for the oppressed people of the earth. The Yamacraws lived in their beautiful region of bearded oaks, magnolias, and palmettoes. Their chief, dressed in fantastic attire, came to meet Oglethorpe on his arrival. " Here is a little present," said the chief, offering a buffalo skin, painted on the inside with the head and feathers of an eagle. " The feathers are soft, — they mean love; the skin is warm, — it means pro- tection. Therefore love and protect the Indian race." The speech was a poem, — a true poem, amid a region that was all poetry. To the bluff, Oglethorpe brought his colony ; and the forest city was begun on the first day of February, the time .bf the real Southern spring. OGLETHORPE WITH THE INDIANS. BEAUTIFUL, SAVANNAH, AND SOUTHWARD. I«3 Thither came the Moravians, singing their hymns as they jour- neyed along the Rhine, and set forth on the sea, — a noble people, of whom their own country and time were not worthy. People fleeing from religious persecution continued to come, and the city grew. . SAVAXNAH HARBOR. Savannah was a truly American town from the first. She sent to Boston the powder that was used at the battle of Bunker Hill. Rhode Island sent to Georgia her young and heroic general, the friend of Washington, Nathaniel Greene. Georgia presented Greene with a grand estate near Savannah after the war. Here the 'hero of Eutaw died at an early age. Count Pulaski was buried in the Savannah River, and his monu- ment in Savannah is one of the finest memorial shafts in the country. Savannah has always remembered and honored her heroes. 1 84 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. Savannah is a city of squares and groves, — of airy homes sur- rounded with gardens of flowers that bloom all the year. One of the most beautiful resorts is Bonaventure Cemetery, about four miles from the city. This spot has been well named Arcadia. FOUNTAIN IN FORSYTUt PARK, SAVANNAH. No cemetery in the world is so endowed by Nature with poetic beauty. The broad avenues of live-oak draped in waving moss seem formed to lament the dead and console the living. The place reminds one of Bryant's lines in his " Ode to Freedom," — " Here are old trees, tall oaks, and gnarled pines That stream with gray green mosses.'' People from New England find a favorite route to Savannah by the Boston and Savannah Steamship Company's elegant boats ; and BEAUTIFUL SAVANNAH, AND SOUTHWARD. 185 to Florida by taking these boats to Savannah, and rail to Jackson- ville. The fare from Boston to Jacksonville is from $25 to $30, or $20 to Savannah by boat, and some ^10 to Florida, the round tickets being subject to reduced rates. The usual fare, by many routes, from Boston and New York to Florida (Jacksonville) and return, is $50. A tourist, by taking the Ward line of steamers, may go to the Bahamas (Nassau, N. P.), and thence to Jacksonville. The fare to the Bahamas is about $50; from Nassau to Jacksonville, about $25. He may return by way of Savannah, Augusta, Columbia, Wilmington, Richmond, and Washington to New York or Boston, at a fare of about $25, thus making, for ^100, a Southern tour as historic and romantic as it is warm and flowery. The time for such a tour is in February and March, thus following the spring birds and flowers northward. SOUTHWARD. From Savannah, carrying with them delightful memories of For- syth Park, our tourists went on their way to Fernandina, an old Spanish American city whose harbor is the finest of the South Atlan- tic coast. Many travellers go from Savannah to Fernandina by water, through the lagoons of the Sea Islands, passing Dungeness on Cum- berland Island, once the home of General Nathaniel Greene and a place of romantic traditions. People desiring a long sea-voyage find the steamers from New York to Fernandina a healthful route to Florida. Jacksonville is really a city of the North, a great Northern hotel, on the old river May, as the St. John's was originally called. What the White Mountains are to New England in summer, Jacksonville and the St. John's are to the East in winter. The city is a flower- garden, or the porter's lodge to a park that is four hundred miles long, — the most beautiful park in North America. i86 A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. Mr. Laurens and -his son met the Lelands at Jacksonville; and the leading members of the Assawamsett Club were thus united, and after the most hearty greetings went on their way — a way all sun- shine and greenery and flowers in February — to the ancient city ot St. Augustine. The home of the Laurenses was a few miles from the city, and overlooked the ocean. VIEW OF JACKSONVILLE HARBOR. Thirty-six hours from the frozen North may find the traveller in Florida, by the fast service, — from the lands of snow to the lands of sands hot with the sunshine! The Lelands found the air like June. The sky was cloudless ; and the ocean winds, as light as the fanning of birds' wings, were full, of odors. M Bi o fa ►J < as H BEAUTIFUL SAVANNAH, AND SOUTHWARD. 189 The home of the Laurenses was old and elegant. Over a tract that seemed like ploughed sand, and through an orange grove, the Lelands came upon it, and caught a view of its broad verandas. A red object caught Charlie's eye, — the only thing he had seen in the journey to remind him of the North. " The old red settle ! " he exclaimed. Mrs. Laurens appeared on the veranda, and there welcomed her Northern friends, and invited them to a seat on the settle. " And here," she said, " it will give us pleasure to tell you some tales of old Florida and of Southern life ; and if we are able to enter- tain you as delightfully as you did us at Lakeville, our acquaintance will be agreeable and profitable indeed." The yard around the house was threaded with lovely walks. On one of them were some baskets heaped with oranges. Beyond were live-oaks streaming with Spanish moss. In an open flower-garden were century-plants and gigantic cacti. About the out-buildings were jessamines of starry gold, and crimson honeysuckles. Beyond one garden rose another, flaming with bloom. The land seemed pouring out blossoms from unseen cornucopias. Everywhere was sunshine, everywhere birds, greenery, gray moss, and flowers. " This is not like the old Assawamsett Hotel," said Charlie to Henry. " How could you have Been so pleased with the tame scen- ery there, when your own home was in such surroundings .'' Life here does not seem real, — it is hard to believe that all I see is not a dream." Pointing to an old orange-tree, he asked, — " How many bushels does that bear.? " " I do not know how many bushels it bears," said Henry; "it usu- ally yields about a thousand oranges a year!" " A thousand oranges ! " The story-telling in this New Sicily began on the first evening after the arrival of the Lelands, Mr. and Mrs. Laurens being the I go A ZIGZAG JOURNEY IN THE SUNNY SOUTH. story-tellers. During the narratives the moon rose over the ocean, and changed the vegetation into towers and palaces of silver. The air was full of odors, borne on the light winds from the sea. The