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THRILLING ADVENTURES

BY

LAND AND SEA

BEING

REMARKABLE HISTORICAL FACTS, GATHERED
FROM AUTHENTIC SOURCES.

EDITED BY

JAMES O. BRAYMAN.

     "Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,
      Of moving accidents by flood and field."


PREFACE.

There is a large class of readers who seek books for the sake of the
amusement they afford. Many are not very fastidious as to the character
of those they select, and consequently the press of the present day
teems with works which are not only valueless, so far as imparting
information is concerned, but actually deleterious in their moral
tendency, and calculated to vitiate and enervate the mind. Such
publications as pander to a prurient taste find a large circulation with
a portion of society who read them for the same reason that the
inebriate seeks his bowl, or the gambler the instruments of his
vocation--for the excitement they produce. The influence of works of
this description is all bad--there is not a single redeeming feature to
commend them to the favor or toleration of the virtuous or intelligent.
It cannot be expected that minds accustomed to such reading can at once
be elevated into the higher walks of literature or the more rugged paths
of science. An intermediate step, by which they may be lifted into a
higher mental position, is required.

There is in the adventures of the daring and heroic, something that
interests all. There is a charm about them which, while it partakes of
the nature of Romance, does not exercise the same influence upon the
mind or heart. When there are noble purposes and noble ends connected
with them, they excite in the mind of the reader, noble impulses.

The object of the present compilation is to form a readable and
instructive volume--a volume of startling incident and exciting
adventure, which shall interest all minds, and by its attractions beget
thirst for reading with those who devote their leisure hours to things
hurtful to themselves and to community. We have endeavored to be
authentic, and to present matter, which, if it sometimes fail to impart
knowledge or instruction, or convey a moral lesson, will, at least, be
innoxious. But we trust we have succeeded in doing more than this--in
placing before the reading public something that is really valuable, and
that will produce valuable results.




CONTENTS.

Incident at Resaca de la Palma
True Heroism
Thrilling Incident
Incident in the War of Mexican Independence
Sketch from Life on the Ocean
Escape from Shipwreck
The Hunter's Wife
Deaf Smith, the Texan Spy
Escape from a Shark
Adventure with Pirates
A Sea-Fowling Adventure
Adventure with a Cobra di Capello
Combat of Wild Animals
Perilous Incident on a Canadian River
Leopard Hunting
Hunting the White Rhinoceros
A Leopard Hunt
Life in California
A Storm among the Icebergs
Fall of the Rossberg
The Rifleman of Chippewa
Shipwreck of the Blendenhall
Adventures of Sergeant Champe
Adventure with Pirates
Kenton, the Spy
The Dying Volunteer
Escape from a Mexican Quicksand
Charged by a Rhinoceros
Burning of the Erie
Conflict with an Indian
Fire on the Prairies
The Captain's Story
Tussle with a Wildcat
Incident in Frontier Life
Encounter with Robbers
Shipwreck of the Monticello
A Jungle Recollection
Attack of Boonesborough
Thrilling Incidents of Battle
Family Attacked by Indians
Thrilling Incident
Adventures of Dr. Bacon
A Battle with Snakes
Estill's Defeat
Incident at Niagara Falls
Skater chased by a Wolf
Our Flag on the Rocky Mountains
Running the Canon
The Rescue
Shipwreck of the Medusa
Hunting the Moose
Perilous Escape from Death
Fire in the Forest
Pirates of the Red Sea
General Jackson and Weatherford
Cruise of the Saldanha and Talbot
A Carib's Revenge
Massacre of Fort Mimms
The Freshet
The Panther's Den
Adventure with Elephant's
The Shark Sentinel
Hunting the Tiger
Indian Devil
Bear Fight
The Miners of Bois-Monzil
Ship Towed to Land by Bullocks
Destruction of a Ship by a Whale
Burning of the Kent



ILLUSTRATIONS.


Frontispiece
Attack on the Lighthouse
Before the Gale
Escape from a Shark
Tiger and Buffalo
Charge of the Buffalo
Loss of the Blendenhall
Death of Montgomery
Escape from the Rhinoceros
The Pursuit
Loss of the Monticello
Attack on Boonesborough
Death of the Widow's Daughter
Attacked by Wolves
Attack on Estill's Station
Our Flag on the Rocky Mountains
A Sail in Sight
Savages Torturing a Captive
Gen. Jackson and Weatherford
Gen. Coffee's Attack on the Indians
Hunting the Rhinoceros
Hunting the Tiger
Ship towed by Bullocks
Burning of the Kent




THRILLING ADVENTURES BY LAND AND SEA.


INCIDENT AT RESACA DE LA PALMA.

Sergeant Milton gives the following account of an incident which befel
him at the Battle of Resaca de la Palma.

"At Palo Alto," says he, "I took my rank in the troop as second
sergeant, and while upon the field my horse was wounded in the jaw by a
grape-shot, which disabled him for service. While he was plunging in
agony I dismounted, and the quick eye of Captain May observed me as I
alighted from my horse. He inquired if I was hurt. I answered no--that
my horse was the sufferer. I am glad it is not yourself,' replied he;
'there is another,' (pointing at the same time to a steed without a
rider, which was standing with dilated eye, gazing at the strife,)
'mount him,' I approached the horse, and he stood still until I put my
hand upon the rein and patted his neck, when he rubbed his head
alongside of me, as if pleased that some human being was about to become
his companion in the affray.

"On the second day, at Resaca de la Palma, our troop stood anxiously
waiting for the signal to be given, and never had I looked upon men on
whose countenances were more clearly expressed a fixed determination to
win. The lips of some were pale with excitement, and their eyes wore
that fixed expression which betokens mischief; others, with shut teeth,
would quietly laugh, and catch a tighter grip of the rein, or seat
themselves with care and firmness in the saddle, while quiet words of
confidence and encouragement were passed from each to his neighbor. All
at once Captain May rode to the front of his troop--every rein and sabre
was tightly grasped. Raising himself and pointing at the battery, he
shouted, 'Men, _follow_!' There was now a clattering of hoofs and a
rattling of sabre sheaths--the fire of the enemy's guns was partly drawn
by Lieutenant Ridgely, and the next moment we were sweeping like the
wind up the ravine. I was in a squad of about nine men, who were
separated by a shower of grape from the battery, and we were in advance,
May leading. He turned his horse opposite the breastwork, in front of
the guns, and with another shout 'to follow,' leaped over them. Several
of the horses did follow, but mine, being new and not well trained,
refused; two others balked, and their riders started down the ravine to
turn the breastwork where the rest of the troop had entered. I made
another attempt to clear the guns with my horse, turning him
around--feeling all the time secure at thinking the guns discharged--I
put his head toward them and gave him spur, but he again balked; so
turning his head down the ravine, I too started to ride round the
breastwork.

"As I came down, a lancer dashed at me with lance in rest. With my sabre
I parried his thrust, only receiving a slight flesh-wound from its point
in the arm, which felt at the time like the prick of a pin. The lancer
turned and fled; at that moment a ball passed through my horse on the
left side and shattered my right side. The shot killed the horse
instantly, and he fell upon my left leg, fastening me by his weight to
the earth. There I lay, right in the midst of the action, where carnage
was riding riot, and every moment the shot, from our own and the Mexican
guns, tearing up the earth around me. I tried to raise my horse so as to
extricate my leg but I had already grown so weak with my wound that I
was unable, and from the mere attempt, I fell back exhausted. To add to
my horror, a horse, who was careering about, riderless, within a few
yards of me, received a wound, and he commenced struggling and rearing
with pain. Two or three times, he came near falling on me, but at
length, with a scream of agony and a bound, he fell dead--his body
touching my own fallen steed. What I had been in momentary dread of now
occurred--my wounded limb, which was lying across the horse, received
another ball in the ankle.

"I now felt disposed to give up; and, exhausted through pain and
excitement, a film gathered over my eyes, which I thought was the
precursor of dissolution. From this hopeless state I was aroused by a
wounded Mexican, calling out to me, '_Bueno Americano,_' and turning my
eyes toward the spot, I saw that he was holding a certificate and
calling to me. The tide of action now rolled away from me and hope again
sprung up. The Mexican uniforms began to disappear from the chapparal,
and squadrons of our troops passed in sight, apparently in pursuit.
While I was thus nursing the prospect of escape, I beheld, not far from
me, a villainous-looking ranchero, armed with an American sergeant's
short sword, dispatching a wounded American soldier, whose body he
robbed--the next he came to was a Mexican, whom he served the same way,
and thus I looked on while he murderously slew four. I drew an
undischarged pistol from my holsters, and laying myself along my horse's
neck, watched him, expecting to be the next victim; but something
frightened him from his vulture-like business, and he fled in another
direction. I need not say that had he visited me I should have taken one
more shot at the enemy, and would have died content, had I succeeded in
making such an assassin bite the dust. Two hours after, I had the
pleasure of shaking some of my comrades by the hand, who were picking up
the wounded. They lifted my Mexican friend, too, and I am pleased to say
he, as well as myself, live to fight over again the sanguine fray of
_Resaca de la Palma."_



TRUE HEROISM.

While the plague raged violently at Marseilles, every link of affection
was broken, the father turned from the child, the child from the father;
cowardice and ingratitude no longer excited indignation. Misery is at
its height when it thus destroys every generous feeling, thus dissolves
every tie of humanity! the city became a desert, grass grew in the
streets; a funeral met you at every step.

The physicians assembled in a body at the Hotel de Ville, to hold a
consultation on the fearful disease, for which no remedy had yet been
discovered. After a long deliberation, they decided unanimously, that
the malady had a peculiar and mysterious character, which opening a
corpse alone might develope--an operation it was impossible to attempt,
since the operator must infallibly become a victim in a few hours,
beyond the power of human art to save him, as the violence of the attack
would preclude their administering the customary remedies. A dead pause
succeeded this fatal declaration. Suddenly, a surgeon named Guyon, in
the prime of life, and of great celebrity in his profession, rose and
said firmly, "Be it so: I devote myself for the safety of my country.
Before this numerous assembly I swear, in the name of humanity and
religion, that to-morrow, at the break of day, I will dissect a corpse,
and write down as I proceed, what I observe." He left the assembly
instantly. They admired him, lamented his fate, and doubted whether he
would persist in his design. The intrepid Guyon, animated by all the
sublime energy which patriotism can inspire, acted up to his word. He
had never married, he was rich, and he immediately made a will; he
confessed, and in the middle of the night received the sacraments. A man
had died of the plague in his house within four and twenty hours.
Guyon, at daybreak, shut himself up in the same room; he took with him
an inkstand, paper, and a little crucifix. Full of enthusiasm, and
kneeling before the corpse, he wrote,--"Mouldering remains of an
immortal soul, not only can I gaze on thee without horror, but even with
joy and gratitude. Thou wilt open to me the gates of a glorious
eternity. In discovering to me the secret cause of the terrible disease
which destroys my native city, thou wilt enable me to point out some
salutary remedy--thou wilt render my sacrifice useful. Oh God! thou wilt
bless the action thou hast thyself inspired." He began--he finished the
dreadful operation, and recorded in detail his surgical observations. He
left the room, threw the papers into a vase of vinegar, and afterward
sought the lazaretto, where he died in twelve hours--a death ten
thousand times more glorious than the warrior's, who, to save his
country, rushes on the enemy's ranks,--since he advances with hope, at
least, sustained, admired, and seconded by a whole army.



A THRILLING INCIDENT.

An incident occurred at the Key Biscayne lighthouse, during the Florida
war, which is perhaps worth recording. The lighthouse, was kept by a man
named Thompson. His only companion was an old negro man; they both lived
in a small hut near the lighthouse. One evening about dark they
discovered a party of some fifteen or twenty Indians creeping upon them,
upon which they immediately retreated into the lighthouse, carrying with
them a keg of gunpowder, with the guns and ammunition. From the windows
of the lighthouse Thompson fired upon them several times, but the moment
he would show himself at the window, the glasses would be instantly
riddled by the rifle balls, and he had no alternative but to lie close.
The Indians meanwhile getting out of patience, at not being able to
force the door, which Thompson had secured, collected piles of wood,
which, being placed against the door and set fire to, in process of time
not only burnt through the door, but also set fire to the stair-case
conducting to the lantern, into which Thompson and the negro were
compelled to retreat. From this, too, they were finally driven by the
encroaching flames, and were forced outside on the parapet wall, which
was not more than three feet wide.

[Illustration: ATTACK ON THE LIGHTHOUSE.]

The flames now began to ascend as from a chimney, some fifteen or twenty
feet above the lighthouse. These men had to lie in this situation, some
seventy feet above the ground, with a blazing furnace roasting them on
one side, and the Indians on the other, embracing every occasion, as
soon as any part of the body was exposed to pop at them. The negro
incautiously exposing himself, was killed, while Thompson received
several balls in his feet, which he had projected beyond the wall.

Nearly roasted to death, and in a fit of desperation, Thompson seized
the keg of gunpowder, which he had still preserved from the hands of the
enemy, threw it into the blazing lighthouse, hoping to end his own
sufferings and destroy the savages. In a few moments it exploded, but
the walls were too strong to be shaken, and the explosion took place out
of the lighthouse, as though it had been fired from a gun.

The effect of the concussion was to throw down the blazing materials
level with the ground, so as to produce a subsidence of the flames, and
then Thompson was permitted to remain exempt from their influence.
Before day the Indians were off, and Thompson being left alone, was
compelled to throw off the body of the negro, while strength was left
him, and before it putrefied.

The explosion was heard on board a revenue cutter at some distance,
which immediately proceeded to the spot to ascertain what had occurred,
when they found the lighthouse burnt, and the keeper above, on top of
it. Various expedients were resorted to, to get him down; and finally a
kite was made, and raised with strong twine, and so manoeuvered as to
bring the line within his reach, to which a rope of good size was next
attached, and hauled up by Thompson. Finally, a block, which being
fastened to the lighthouse, and having a rope to it, enabled the crew to
haul up a couple of men, by whose aid Thompson was safely landed on
terra firma.

The Indians had attempted to reach him by means of the lightning rod, to
which they had attached thongs of buckskin, but could not succeed in
getting more than half way up.



AN INCIDENT

IN THE WAR OF MEXICAN INDEPENDENCE.

The following thrilling narrative is from a translation in Sharpe's
Magazine. A captain in the Mexican insurgent army is giving an account
of a meditated night attack upon a hacienda situated in the Cordilleras,
and occupied by a large force of Spanish soldiers. After a variety of
details, he continues:

"Having arrived at the hacienda unperceived, thanks for the obscurity of
a moonless night, we came to a halt under some large trees, at some
distance from the building, and I rode forward from my troop, in order
to reconnoitre the place. The hacienda, so far as I could see in gliding
across, formed a huge, massive parallelogram, strengthened by enormous
buttresses of hewn stone. Along this chasm, the walls of the hacienda
almost formed the continuation of another perpendicular one, chiselled
by nature herself in the rocks, to the bottom of which the eye could not
penetrate, for the mists, which incessantly boiled up from below, did
not allow it to measure their awful depth. This place was known, in the
country, by the name of 'the Voladero.'"

"I had explored all sides of the building except this, when I know not
what scruple of military honor incited me to continue my ride along the
ravine which protected the rear of the hacienda. Between the walls and
the precipice, there was a narrow pathway about six feet wide; by day,
the passage would have been dangerous; but, by night, it was a perilous
enterprize. The walls of the farm took an extensive sweep, the path
crept round their entire basement, and to follow it to the end, in the
darkness, only two paces from the edge of a perpendicular chasm, was no
very easy task, even for as practiced a horseman as myself.
Nevertheless, I did not hesitate, but boldly urged my horse between the
walls of the farm-house and the abyss of the Voladero. I had got over
half the distance without accident, when, all of a sudden, my horse
neighed aloud. This neigh made me shudder. I had just reached a pass
where the ground was but just wide enough for the four legs of a horse,
and it was impossible to retrace my steps."

"'Hallo!' I exclaimed aloud, at the risk of betraying myself, which was
even less dangerous than encountering a horseman in front of me on such
a road. 'There is a Christian passing along the ravine! Keep back,'"

"It was too late. At that moment, a man on horseback passed round one
of the buttresses which here and there obstructed this accursed pathway
He advanced toward me. I trembled in my saddle; my forehead bathed in a
cold sweat."

"'For the love of God! can you not return?' I exclaimed, terrified at
the fearful situation in which we both were placed."

"'Impossible!' replied the horseman."

"I recommended my soul to God. To turn our horses round for want of
room, to back them along the path we had traversed, or even to dismount
from them--these were three impossibilities, which placed us both in
presence of a fearful doom. Between two horsemen so placed upon this
fearful path, had they been father and son, one of them must inevitably
have become the prey of the abyss. But a few seconds had passed, and we
were already face to face--the unknown and myself. Our horses were head
to head, and their nostrils, dilated with terror, mingled together their
fiery breathing. Both of us halted in a dead silence. Above was the
smooth and lofty wall of the hacienda; on the other side, but three feet
distant from the wall, opened the horrible gulf. Was it an enemy I had
before my eyes? The love of my country, which boiled, at that period, in
my young bosom, led me to hope it was."

"'Are you for Mexico and the Insurgents?' I exclaimed in a moment of
excitement, ready to spring upon the unknown horseman, if he answered me
in the negative."

"'_Mexico e Insurgente_--that is my password, replied the cavalier. 'I
am the Colonel Garduno.'"

"'I am the Captain Castanos.'"

"Our acquaintance was of long standing; and, but for mutual agitation,
we should have had no need to exchange our names. The colonel had left
us two days since, at the head of the detachment, which we supposed to
be either prisoners, or cut off, for he had not been seen to return
to the camp."

"'Well, colonel,' I exclaimed, 'I am sorry you are not a Spaniard; for,
you perceive, that one of us must yield the pathway to the other."

"Our horses had the bridle on their necks, and I put my hands to the
holsters of my saddle to draw out my pistols."

"'I see it so plainly,' returned the colonel, with alarming coolness,
'that I should already have blown out the brains of your horse, but for
the fear lest mine, in a moment of terror, should precipitate me with
yourself, to the bottom of the abyss.'"

"I remarked, in fact, that the colonel already held his pistols in his
hands. We both maintained almost profound silence. Our horses felt the
danger like ourselves, and remained as immovable as if their feet were
nailed to the ground. My excitement had entirely subsided. 'What are we
going to do?' I demanded of the colonel."

"'Draw lots which of the two shall leap into the ravine.'"

"It was, in truth, the sole means of resolving the difficulty. 'There
are, nevertheless, some precautions to take,' said the Colonel."

"'He who shall be condemned by the lot, shall retire backward. It will
be but a feeble chance of escape for him, I admit; but, in short, there
is a chance, and especially one in favor of the winner,'"

"'You cling not to life, then?' I cried out, terrified at the
_sang-froid_ with which this proposition was put to me."

"'I cling to life more than yourself,' sharply replied the colonel, 'for
I have a mortal outrage to avenge. But the time is fast slipping away.
Are you ready to proceed to draw the last lottery at which one of us
will ever exist?"

"How were we to proceed to this drawing by lot? By means of the wet
finger, like infants; or by head and tail, like the school boys? Both
ways were impracticable. Our hands imprudently stretched out over the
heads of our frightened horses, might cause them to give a fatal start.
Should we toss up a piece of coin, the night was too dark to enable us
to distinguish which side fell upward. The colonel bethought him of an
expedient, of which I never should have dreamed."

"'Listen to me, captain,' said the colonel, to whom I had communicated
my perplexities. 'I have another way. The terror which our horses feel,
makes them draw every moment a burning breath. The first of us two whose
horse shall neigh,--"

"'Wins!' I exclaimed, hastily."

"'Not so; shall be looser. I know that you are a countryman, and, as
such, you can do whatever you please with your horse. As to myself, who,
but last year, wore a gown of a theological student, I fear your
equestrian prowess. You may be able to make your horse neigh: to hinder
him from doing so, is a very different matter.'"

"We waited in deep and anxious silence until the voice of one of our
horses should break forth. The silence lasted for a minute--for an age!
It was my horse who neighed the first. The colonel gave no external
manifestation of his joy; but, no doubt, he thanked God to the very
bottom of his heart."

"'You will allow me a minute to make my peace with heaven?' I said, with
falling voice."

"'Will five minutes be sufficient?'"

"'It will,' I replied."

"The colonel pulled out his watch. I addressed toward the heavens,
brilliant with stars, which I thought I was looking to for the last
time, an intense and burning prayer."

"'It is time,' said the colonel."

"I answered nothing, and, with a firm hand, gathered up the bridle of my
horse, and drew it within my fingers, which were agitated by a
nervous tremor."

"'Yet one moment more,' I said to the colonel, for I have need of all my
coolness to carry into execution the fearful manoeuver which I am about
to commence."

"'Granted,' replied Garduno."

"My education, as I have told you, had been in the country. My
childhood, and part of my earliest youth, had almost been passed on
horseback. I may say, without flattering myself, that if there was any
one in the world capable of executing this equestrian feat, it was
myself. I rallied myself with an almost supernatural effort, and
succeeded in recovering my entire self-possession, in the very face of
death. Taking it at the worst, I had already braved it too often to be
any longer alarmed at it. From that instant, I dared to hope afresh."

"As soon as my horse felt, for the first time since my rencounter with
the colonel, the bit compressing his mouth, I perceived that he trembled
beneath me. I strengthened myself firmly on my stirrups, to make the
terrified animal understand that his master no longer trembled. I held
him up with bridle and the hams, as every good horseman does in a
dangerous passage, and, with the bridle, the body, and the spur,
together, succeeded in backing him a few paces. His head was already a
greater distance from that of the horse of the colonel, who encouraged
me all he could with his voice. This done, I let the poor, trembling
brute, who obeyed me in spite of his terror, repose for a few moments,
and then recommenced the same manoeuver. All on a sudden, I felt his
hind legs give way under me. A horrible shudder ran through my whole
frame. I closed my eyes, as if about to roll to the bottom of the abyss,
and I gave to my body a violent impulse on the side next to the
hacienda, the surface of which offered not a single projection, not a
tuft of weeds to check my descent. This sudden movement joined to the
desperate struggles of my horse, was the salvation of my life. He had
sprung up again on his legs, which seemed ready to fall from under him,
so desperately did I feel them tremble."

"I had succeeded in reaching between the brink of the precipice and the
wall of the building, a spot some few inches broader. A few more would
have enabled me to turn him round; but to attempt it here would have
been fatal, and I dared not venture. I sought to resume my backward
progress, step by step. Twice the horse threw himself on his hind legs,
and fell down upon the same spot. It was in vain to urge him anew,
either with voice, bridle, or spur; the animal obstinately refused to
take a single step in the rear. Nevertheless, I did not feel my courage
yet exhausted, for I had no desire to die. One last, solitary chance of
safety, suddenly appeared to me, like a flash of light, and I resolved
to employ it. Through the fastening of my boot, and in reach of my hand,
was placed a sharp and keen knife, which I drew forth from its sheath.
With my left hand I began caressing the mane of my horse, all the while
letting him hear my voice. The poor animal replied to my caresses by a
plaintive neighing; then, not to alarm him abruptly, my hand followed,
by little and little, the curve of his nervous neck, and finally rested
upon the spot where the last of the vertebrae unites itself with the
cranium. The horse trembled; but I calmed him with my voice. When I felt
his very life, so to speak, palpitate in his brain beneath my fingers,
and leaned over toward the wall, my feet gently slid from the stirrups,
and, with one vigorous blow, I buried the pointed blade of my knife in
the seat of the vital principle. The animal fell as if thunderstruck,
without a single motion; and, for myself, with my knees almost as high
as my chin, I found myself a horseback across a corpse! I was saved! I
uttered a triumphant cry, which was responded to by the colonel, and
which the abyss re-echoed with a hollow sound, as if it felt that its
prey had escaped from it. I quitted the saddle, sat down between the
wall and the body of my horse, and vigorously pushed with my feet
against the carcass of the wretched animal, which rolled down into the
abyss. I then arose, and cleared, at a few bounds, the distance which
separated the place where I was from the plain; and, under the
irresistible reaction of the terror which I had long repressed, I sank
into a swoon upon the ground. When I reopened my eyes, the colonel was
by my side."



A SKETCH

FROM "LIFE ON THE OCEAN."

Carthagena lies in the parallel of ten degrees twenty-six minutes north,
and seventy-five degrees thirty-eight minutes west longitude; the harbor
is good, with an easy entrance; the city is strongly fortified by
extensive and commanding fortifications and batteries, and, I should
suppose, if well garrisoned and manned, they would be perfectly able to
repel any force which might be brought to bear against them. It was well
known, at this time, that all the provinces of Spain had shaken off
their allegiance to the mother country, and declared themselves
independent. Carthagena, the most prominent of the provinces, was a
place of considerable commerce; and, about this time, a few men-of-war,
and a number of privateers, were fitted out there. The Carthagenian flag
now presented a chance of gain to the cupidity of the avaricious and
desperate, among whom was our commander, Captain S. As soon, therefore,
as we had filled up our water, &c., a proposition was made by him, to
the second lieutenant and myself, to cruise under both flags, the
American and Carthagenian, and this to be kept a profound secret from
the crew, until we had sailed from port. Of course, we rejected the
proposition with disdain, and told him the consequence of such a
measure, in the event of being taken by a man-of-war of any
nation,--that it was piracy, to all intents and purposes, according to
the law of nations. We refused to go out in the privateer, if he
persisted in this most nefarious act, and we heard no more of it while
we lay in port.

In a few days we were ready for sea, and sailed in company with our
companion, her force being rather more than ours, but the vessel very
inferior, in point of sailing. While together, we captured several small
British schooners, the cargoes of which, together with some specie, were
divided between two privateers. Into one of the prizes we put all the
prisoners, gave them plenty of water and provisions, and let them pursue
their course: the remainder of the prizes were burned. We then parted
company, and, being short of water, ran in toward the land, in order to
ascertain if any could be procured. In approaching the shore, the wind
died away to a perfect calm; and, at 4 P.M., a small schooner was seen
in-shore of us. As we had not steerage way upon our craft, of course it
would be impossible to ascertain her character before dark; it was,
therefore, determined by our commander to board her with the boats,
under cover of the night. This was a dangerous service; but there was no
backing out. Volunteers being called for, I stepped forward; and very
soon, a sufficient number of men to man two boats offered their services
to back me. Every disposition was made for the attack. The men were
strongly armed, oars muffled, and a grappling placed in each boat. The
bearings of the strange sail were taken, and night came on perfectly
clear and cloudless. I took command of the expedition, the second
lieutenant having charge of one boat. The arrangement was to keep close
together, until we got sight of the vessel; the second lieutenant was to
board on the bow, and I on the quarter. We proceeded in the most
profound silence; nothing was heard, save now and then a slight splash
of the oars in the water, and, before we obtained sight of the vessel, I
had sufficient time to reflect on this most perilous enterprise.

My reflections were not of the most pleasant character, and I found
myself inwardly shrinking, when I was aroused by the voice of the bowman
saying, "There she is, sir, two points on the starboard bow." There she
lay, sure enough, with every sail hoisted, and a light was plainly seen,
as we supposed, from her deck, it being too high for her cabin windows.
We now held a consultation, and saw no good reason to change the
disposition of the attack, except that we agreed to board
simultaneously. It may be well to observe here, that any number of men
on a vessel's deck, in the night, have double the advantage to repel
boarders, because they may secrete themselves in such a position as to
fall upon an enemy unawares, and thereby cut them off, with little
difficulty. Being fully aware of this, I ordered the men, as soon as we
had gained the deck of the schooner, to proceed with great caution, and
keep close together, till every hazard of the enterprize was
ascertained. The boats now separated, and pulled for their respective
stations, observing the most profound silence. When we had reached
within a few yards of the schooner, we lay upon our oars for some
moments; but could neither hear nor see any thing. We then pulled away
cheerily, and the next minute were under her counter, and grappled to
her; every man leaped on the deck without opposition. The other boat
boarded nearly at the same moment, and we proceeded, in a body, with
great caution, to examine the decks. A large fire was in the caboose,
and we soon ascertained that her deck was entirely deserted, and that
she neither had any boat on deck nor to her stern. We then proceeded to
examine the cabin, leaving an armed force on deck. The cabin, like the
deck, being deserted, the mystery was easily unraveled. Probably
concluding that we should board them under cover of the night, they, no
doubt, as soon as it was dark, took to their boats, and deserted the
vessel. On the floor of the cabin was a part of an English ensign, and
some papers, which showed that she belonged to Jamaica, The little cargo
on board consisted of Jamaica rum, sugar, fruit, &c.

The breeze now springing up, and the privateer showing lights, we were
enabled to get alongside of her in a couple of hours. A prize-master and
crew were put on board, with orders to keep company. During the night,
we ran along shore, and, in the morning, took on board the privateer the
greater part of the prize's cargo.

Being close in shore in the afternoon, we descried a settlement of huts;
and, supposing that water might be obtained there, the two vessels were
run in, and anchored about two miles distant from the beach. A
proposition was made to me, by Captain S., to get the water-casks on
board the prize schooner, and, as she drew a light draught of water, I
was to run her in, and anchor her near the beach, taking with me the two
boats and twenty men. I observed to Captain S. that this was probably
an Indian settlement, and it was well known that all the Indian tribes
on the coast of Rio de La Hache were exceedingly ferocious, and said to
be cannibals; and it was also well known, that whosoever fell into their
hands, never escaped with their lives; so that it was necessary, before
any attempt was made to land, that some of the Indians should be decoyed
on board, and detained as hostages for our safety. At the conclusion of
this statement, a very illiberal allusion was thrown out by Captain S.,
and some doubts expressed in reference to my courage; he remarking, that
if I was afraid to undertake the expedition, he would go himself. This
was enough for me; I immediately resolved to proceed, if I sacrificed my
life in the attempt. The next morning, twenty water-casks were put on
board the prize, together with the two boats and twenty men, well armed
with muskets, pistols, and cutlasses, with a supply of ammunition; I
repaired on board, got the prize under way, ran in, and anchored about
one hundred yards from the beach. The boats were got in readiness, and
the men were well armed, and the water casks slung ready to proceed on
shore, I had examined my own pistols narrowly, that morning, and had put
them in complete order, and, as I believed, had taken every precaution
for our future operations, so as to prevent surprise.

There were about a dozen ill-constructed huts, or wigwams; but no spot
of grass, or shrub, was visible to the eye, with the exception of, here
and there, the trunk of an old tree. One solitary Indian was seen
stalking on the beach, and the whole scene presented the most wild and
savage appearance, and, to my mind, argued very unfavorably. We pulled
in with the casks in tow, seven men being in each boat; when within a
short distance of the beach, the boat's heads were put to seaward, when
the Indian came abreast of us. Addressing him in Spanish, I inquired if
water could be procured, to which he replied in the affirmative. I then
displayed to his view some gewgaws and trinkets, at which he appeared
perfectly delighted, and, with many signs and gestures, invited me on
shore. Thrusting my pistols into my belt, and buckling on my
cartridge-box, I gave orders to the boats' crew, that, in case they
discovered any thing like treachery or surprise, after I had gotten on
shore, to cut the water-casks adrift, and make the best of their way on
board the prize. As soon as I had jumped on shore, I inquired if there
were any live stock, such as fowls, &c., to be had. Pointing to a hut
about thirty yards from the boats, he said that the stock was there,
and invited me to go and see it. I hesitated, suspecting some treachery;
however, after repeating my order to the boats' crews, I proceeded with
the Indian, and when within about half a dozen yards of the hut, at a
preconcerted signal, (as I supposed,) as if by magic, at least one
hundred Indians rushed out, with the rapidity of thought. I was knocked
down, stripped of all my clothing except an inside flannel shirt, tied
hand and foot, and then taken and secured to the trunk of a large tree,
surrounded by about twenty squaws, as a guard, who, with the exception
of two or three, bore a most wild and hideous look in their appearance.
The capture of the boat's crews was simultaneous with my own, they being
so much surprised and confounded at the stratagem of the Indians, that
they had not the power, or presence of mind, to pull off.

After they had secured our men, a number of them jumped into the boats,
pulled off, and captured the prize, without meeting with any resistance
from those on board, they being only six in number. Her cable was then
cut, and she was run on the beach, when they proceeded to dismantle her,
by cutting the sails from the bolt-ropes, and taking out what little
cargo there was, consisting of Jamaica ram, sugar, &c. This being done,
they led ropes on shore, when about one hundred of them hauled her up
nearly high and dry.

By this time the privateer had seen our disaster stood boldly in, and
anchored within less than gun shot of the beach; they then very
foolishly opened a brisk cannonade; but every shot was spent in vain.
This exasperated the Indians, and particularly the one who had taken
possession of my pistols. Casting my eye round, I saw him creeping
toward me with one pistol presented, and when about five yards off, he
pulled the trigger. But as Providence had, no doubt, ordered it, the
pistol snapped; at the same moment, a shot from the privateer fell a few
yards from us, when the Indian rose upon his feet, cocked the pistol,
and fired it at the privateer; turning round with a most savage yell, he
threw the pistol with great violence, which grazed my head, and then,
with a large stick, beat and cut me until I was perfectly senseless.
This was about ten o'clock, and I did not recover my consciousness
until, as I supposed, about four o'clock in the afternoon. I perceived
there were four squaws around me, one of whom, from her
appearance,--having on many gewgaws and trinkets,--was the wife of a
chief. As soon as she discovered signs of returning consciousness, she
presented me with a gourd, the contents of which appeared to be Indian
meal mixed with water; she first drank, and then gave it to me, and I
can safely aver that I never drank any beverage, before or since, which
produced such relief.

Night was now coming on; the privateer had got under weigh, and was
standing off-and-on, with a flag of truce flying at her mast-head. The
treacherous Indian with whom I had first conversed came, and with a
malignant smile, gave me the dreadful intelligence that, at twelve
o'clock that night, we were to be roasted and eaten.

Accordingly, at sunset, I was unloosed and conducted, by a band of about
half a dozen savages, to the spot, where I found the remainder of our
men firmly secured, by having their hands tied behind them, their legs
lashed together, and each man fastened to a stake that had been driven
into the ground for that purpose. There was no possibility to elude the
vigilance of these miscreants. As soon as night shut in, a large
quantity of brushwood was piled around us, and nothing now was wanting
but the fire to complete this horrible tragedy. Then the same malicious
savage approached us once more, and, with the deepest malignity, taunted
us with our coming fate. Having some knowledge of the Indian character,
I summoned up all the fortitude of which I was capable, and, in terms
of defiance, told him, that twenty Indians would be sacrificed for each
one of us sacrificed by him. I knew very well that it would not do to
exhibit any signs of fear or cowardice; and, having heard much of the
cupidity of the Indian character, I offered the savage a large ransom if
he would use his influence to procure our release. Here the conversation
was abruptly broken off by a most hideous yell from the whole tribe,
occasioned by their having taken large draughts of the rum, which now
began to operate very sensibly upon them; and, as it will be seen,
operated very much to our advantage. This thirst for rum caused them to
relax their vigilance, and we were left alone to pursue our reflections,
which were not of the most enviable or pleasant character. A thousand
melancholy thoughts rushed over my mind. Here I was, and, in all
probability, in a few hours I should be in eternity, and my death one of
the most horrible description. "Oh!" thought I, "how many were the
entreaties and arguments used by my friends to deter me from pursuing an
avocation so full of hazard and peril! If I had taken their advice, and
acceded to their solicitations, in all probability I should, at this
time, have been in the enjoyment of much happiness." I was aroused from
this reverie by the most direful screams from the united voices of the
whole tribe, they having drunk largely of the rum, and become so much
intoxicated that a general fight ensued. Many of them lay stretched on
the ground, with tomahawks deeply implanted in their skulls: and many
others, as the common phrase is, were "dead drunk." This was an
exceedingly fortunate circumstance for us. With their senses benumbed,
of course they had forgotten their avowal to roast us, or, it may be,
the Indian to whom I proposed ransom had conferred with the others, and
they, no doubt, agreed to spare our lives until the morning. It was a
night, however, of pain and terror, as well as of the most anxious
suspense; and when the morning dawn broke upon my vision, I felt an
indescribable emotion of gratitude, as I had fully made up my mind, the
night previous, that long before this time I should have been sleeping
the sleep of death. It was a pitiable sight, when the morning light
appeared, to see twenty human beings stripped naked, with their bodies
cut and lacerated, and the blood issuing from their wounds; with their
hands and feet tied, and their bodies fastened to stakes, with brushwood
piled around them, expecting every moment to be their last. My feelings,
on this occasion, can be better imagined than described; suffice it to
say, that I had given up all hopes of escape, and gloomily resigned
myself to death. When the fumes of the liquor had in some degree worn
off from the benumbed senses of the savages, they arose and approached
us, and, for the first time, the wily Indian informed me that the tribe
had agreed to ransom us. They then cast off the lashings from our bodies
and feet, and, with our hands still secure, drove us before them to the
beach. Then another difficulty arose; the privateer was out of sight,
and the Indians became furious. To satiate their hellish malice, they
obliged us to run on the beach, while they let fly their poisoned arrows
after us. For my own part, my limbs were so benumbed that I could
scarcely walk, and I firmly resolved to stand still and take the worst
of it--which was the best plan I could have adopted; for, when they
perceived that I exhibited no signs of fear, not a single arrow was
discharged at me. Fortunately, before they grew weary of this sport, to
my great joy, the privateer hove in sight. She stood boldly in, with the
flag of truce flying, and the savages consented to let one man of their
own choosing go off in the boat to procure the stipulated ransom. The
boat returned loaded with articles of various descriptions, and two of
our men were released. The boat kept plying to and from the privateer,
bringing such articles as they demanded, until all were released except
myself. Here it may be proper to observe, that the mulatto man, who had
been selected by the Indians, performed all this duty himself, not one
of the privateer's crew daring to hazard their lives with him in the
boat. I then was left alone, and for my release they required a double
ransom. I began now seriously to think that they intended to detain me
altogether. My mulatto friend, however, pledged himself that he would
never leave me.

Again, for the last time, he sculled the boat off. She quickly returned,
with a larger amount of articles than previously. It was a moment of the
deepest anxiety, for there had now arrived from the interior another
tribe, apparently superior in point of numbers, and elated with the
booty which had been obtained. They demanded a share, and expressed a
determination to detain me for a larger ransom. These demands were
refused, and a conflict ensued of the most frightful and terrific
character. Tomahawks, knives, and arrows, were used indiscriminately,
and many an Indian fell in that bloody contest. The tomahawks were
thrown with the swiftness of arrows, and were generally buried in the
skull or the breast; and whenever two came in contact, with the famous
"Indian hug," the strife was soon over with either one or the other, by
one plunging the deadly knife up to the hilt in the body of his
opponent; nor were the poisoned arrows of less swift execution, for,
wherever they struck, the wretched victim was quickly in eternity. I
shall never forget the frightful barbarity of that hour; although years
have elapsed since its occurrence, still the whole scene in imagination
is before me, the savage yell of the warwhoop, and the direful screams
of the squaws, still ring afresh in my ears. In the height of this
conflict, a tall Indian chief, who, I knew, belonged to the same tribe
with the young squaw who gave me the drink, came down to the beach where
I was. The boat had been discharged, and was lying with her head off. At
a signal given by the squaw to the chief, he caught me up in his arms,
with as much ease as if I had been a child, waded to the boat, threw me
in, and then, with a most expressive gesture, urged us off. Fortunately,
there were two oars in the boat, and, feeble as I was, I threw all the
remaining strength I had to the oar. It was the last effort, as life or
death hung upon the next fifteen minutes. Disappointed of a share of the
booty, the savages were frantic with rage, especially when they saw I
had eluded their grasp. Rushing to the beach, about a dozen threw
themselves into the other boat, which had been captured, and pulled
after us; but, fortunately, in their hurry, they had forgotten the
muskets, and being unacquainted with the method of rowing, of course
they made but little progress, which enabled us to increase
our distance.

The privateer having narrowly watched all these movements, and seeing
our imminent danger, stood boldly on toward the beach, and in the next
five minutes she lay between us and the Indians, discharging a heavy
fire of musketry among them. Such was the high excitement of my
feelings, that I scarcely recollected how I gained the privateer's deck.
But I was saved, nevertheless, though I was weak with the loss of blood,
and savage treatment,--my limbs benumbed, and body scorched with the
piercing rays of the sun,--the whole scene rushing through my mind with
the celerity of electricity! It unmanned and quite overpowered me; I
fainted, and fell senseless on the deck.

The usual restoratives and care were administered, and I soon recovered
from the effects of my capture. Some of the others were not so
fortunate; two of them, especially, were cut in a shocking manner, and
the others were so dreadfully beaten and mangled by clubs, that the
greatest care was necessary to save their lives.



ESCAPE FROM SHIPWRECK.

FROM "LIFE ON THE OCEAN."

Received orders this day to proceed to London with the ship; and, as the
easterly gale abated, and the wind hauled round southward and westward,
we got under way, stood out of Falmouth harbor, and proceeded up the
British Channel. At sunset, it commenced to rain, and the weather was
thick and cloudy. The different lights were seen as far as the Bill of
Portland. At midnight, lost sight of the land, and it blew a gale from
off the French coast: close reefed the topsails, and steered a course so
as to keep in mid-channel. At daybreak, the ship was judged to be off
Beachy Head; the weather being so thick, the land could not be seen. The
fore and mizzen-topsails were now furled, and the ship hove to. The rain
began now to fall in torrents, and the heavy, dense, black clouds rose,
with fearful rapidity, from the northward, over the English coast, when
suddenly the wind shifted from the south-west to the north, and blew a
hurricane. The mist and fog cleared away, and, to our utter
astonishment, we found ourselves on a lee shore, on the coast of
France, off Boulogne heights. The gale was so violent, that no more sail
could be made. The ship was so exceedingly crank, that when she luffed
up on a wind, her bulwarks were under water. As she would not stay, the
only alternative was, to wear; of course, with this evolution, we lost
ground, and, consequently, were driven nearer, every moment, toward the
awful strand of rocks. The scene was now terrific; many vessels were in
sight, two of which we saw dashed on the rocks; with the tremendous roar
of the breakers, and the howling of the tempest, and the heavy sea,
which broke as high as the fore-yard, death appeared inevitable. There
was only one hope left, and that was, that, should the tide change and
take us under our lee-beam, it might possibly set us off on the
Nine-fathom bank, which is situated at a distance of twelve miles
north-northwest, off Boulogne harbor. On the event of reaching this
bank, the safety of the ship and lives of the crew depended,--as it was
determined there to try the anchors, for there was no possibility of
keeping off shore more than two hours, if the gale continued.

We were now on the larboard tack, and, for the last half hour, it was
perceived that the tide had turned, and was setting to the northward;
this was our last and only chance, for the rocks were not more than
half a mile under our lee, and as it was necessary to get the ship's
head round on the starboard tack, which could only be done by wearing,
it was certain that much ground would be lost by that evolution. The
anchors were got ready, long ranges of cables were hauled on deck, and
the ends were clinched to the mainmast below; this being done, the axes
were at hand to cut away the masts.

[Illustration: BEFORE THE GALE.]

Captain G. was an old, experienced seaman; and I never saw, before
or since, more coolness, judgment, and seamanship, than were displayed
by him on this trying occasion. In this perilous trial, the most intense
anxiety was manifested by the crew, and then was heard the deep-toned
voice of Captain G., rising above the bellowing storm, commanding
silence. "Take the wheel," said he to me; and then followed the orders,
in quick succession: "Lay aft, and man the braces--see every thing clear
forward, to wear ship--steady--ease her--shiver away the
main-topsail--put your helm up--haul in the weather fore-braces,--gather
in the after-yards." The ship was now running before the wind, for a few
moments, directly for the rocks; the situation and scene were truly
awful, for she was not more than three hundred yards from the breakers.
I turned my head aside--being at the helm--to avoid the terrific sight,
and silently awaited the crisis. I was roused, at this moment, by
Captain G., who shouted, "She luffs, my boys! brace the main-yard sharp
up--haul in the larboard fore-braces--down with the fore-tack, lads, and
haul aft the sheet;--right the helm! steady, so--haul taut the
weather-braces, and belay all." These orders were given and executed in
quick succession. The ship was now on the starboard tack, plunging bows
under at every pitch. Casting a fitful glance over my shoulder, I saw
that we were apparently to leeward of the rocks. Very soon, however, it
was quite perceptible that the tide had taken her on the lee beam, and
was setting her off shore.

The gloom began now to wear away, although it was doubtful whether we
should be able to reach the bank, and, if successful, whether the
anchors would hold on. Orders were given to lay aloft and send down the
top-gallant-yards, masts, &c. The helm was relieved, and I sprung into
the main rigging, the chief mate going up forward. With much difficulty,
I reached the main-topmast cross-trees, and, when there, it was almost
impossible to work, for the ship lay over at an angle of at least
forty-five degrees, and I found myself swinging, not perpendicularly
over the ship's deck, but at least thirty feet from it. It was no time,
however, for gazing. The yard rope was stoppered out on the quarter of
the yard, the sheets, clewlines, and buntlines, cast off, and the shift
slackened, and then simultaneously from both mast-heads the cry was
heard, "Sway, away!" The parrel cut, the yard was quickly topped and
unrigged, and then lowered away on deck. The next duty to be performed,
was sending down the top-gallant masts. After much difficulty and hard
work, this was also accomplished; and, although I felt some pride in the
performance of a dangerous service, yet, on this occasion, I was not a
little pleased when I reached the deck in safety.

By this time, we had gained four miles off shore, and it was evident
that the soundings indicated our approach to the bank. Tackles were rove
and stretched along forward of the windlass, as well as deck-stoppers
hooked on to the ringbolts fore and aft. "Loose the fore-topsail!"
shouted Captain G., "we must reach this bank before the tide turns, or,
by morning, there will not be left a timber head of this ship, nor one
of us, to tell the sad tale of our disaster." The topsail was loosed and
set, and the ship groaned heavily under the immense pressure of canvass;
her lee rail was under water, and every moment it was expected that the
topmast or the canvass would yield. The deep-sea-lead was taken forward
and hove: when the line reached the after-part of the main channels, the
seaman's voice rose high in the air, "By the deep, nine!" It was three
o'clock. "Clew up and furl the fore-topsail!" shouted Captain G. The
topsail furled of itself, for the moment the weather sheet was started,
it blew away from the bolt-rope; the foresail was immediately hauled up
and furled. Relieved from the great pressure of canvass, and having now
nothing on her except the main-topsail and fore-topmast-staysail, she
rode more upright. The main-topsail was clewed up and fortunately saved,
the mizzen-staysail was set. "Stand by, to cut away the stoppers of the
best bower anchor--to let it go, stock and fluke," said Captain G. "Man
the fore-topmast-staysail down-haul; put your helm down! haul down the
staysail." This was done, and the ship came up handsomely, head to wind,
"See the cable tiers all clear--what water is there?" said Captain G.
The leadsman sang out in a clear voice, "And a half-eight!" By this
time, the ship had lost her way. "Are you all clear forward there?" "Ay,
ay, sir!" was the reply. "Stream the buoy, and let go the anchor!"
shouted Captain G. The order was executed as rapidly as it was given;
the anchor was on the bottom, and already had fifty fathoms of cable
run out, making the windlass smoke; and, although the cable was
weather-bitted, and every effort was made with the deck-stoppers and
tackles to check her, all was fruitless. Ninety fathoms of cable had run
out. "Stand by, to let go the larboard anchor," said Captain G.;
"Cheerily, men--let go!" In the same breath he shouted, "Hold on!" for
just then there was a lull, and having run out the best bower-cable,
nearly to the better end, she brought up. No time was now lost in
getting service on the cable, to prevent its chafing. She was now riding
to a single anchor of two thousand weight, with one hundred fathoms of a
seventeen-inch hemp cable. The sea rolled heavily, and broke in upon the
deck fore and aft; the lower yards were got down; the topsail-yards
pointed to the wind; and as the tide had now turned, the ship rode
without any strain on her cable, because it tended broad on the beam.

The next morning presented a dismal scene, for there were more than
fifty sail in-shore of us, some of whom succeeded in reaching the bank,
and anchored with loss of sails, topmasts, &c. Many others were dashed
upon the rocks, and not a soul was left to tell the tale of their
destruction. I shall not forget that, on the second day, a Dutch
galliot was driven in to leeward of us; and although, by carrying on a
tremendous press of canvass, she succeeded in keeping off shore until
five P.M., yet, at sunset she disappeared, and was seen no more. After
our arrival in London, we learned that this unfortunate vessel was
driven on the rocks, and every soul on board perished.

The gale continued four days, at the expiration of which time, it broke.
At midnight, the wind hauled round to the eastward, and the weather
became so excessively cold, that, although we commenced heaving in the
cable at five A.M., yet we did not get the anchor until nine that night.
Close-reefed topsails were set on the ship and we stood over to the
English coast, and anchored to the westward of Dungeness. During the
whole period of this gale, which lasted four days, Captain G. never for
one moment left the deck; and although well advanced in years, yet his
iron constitution enabled him to overcome the calls of nature for rest;
and, notwithstanding the situation of the ship, was, perhaps more
critical than many of those less fortunate vessels which stranded upon
the rocks, yet his coolness, and the seaman-like manner with which the
ship was handled, no doubt were the means of our being saved.



THE HUNTER'S WIFE.

Thomas Cooper was a fine specimen of the North American trapper.
Slightly but powerfully made, with a hardy, weather-beaten, yet handsome
face; strong, indefatigable, and a crack shot--he was admirably adapted
for a hunter's life. For many years he knew not what it was to have a
home, but lived like the beasts he hunted--wandering from one part of
the country to another, in pursuit of game. All who knew Tom were much
surprised when he came, with a pretty young wife, to settle within three
miles of a planter's farm. Many pitied the poor young creature, who
would have to lead such a solitary life; while others said, "If she was
fool enough to marry him, it was her own look-out." For nearly four
months Tom remained at home, and employed his time in making the old hut
he had fixed on for their residence more comfortable. He cleared and
tilled a small spot of land around it, and Susan began to hope that, for
her sake, he would settle down quietly as a squatter. But these visions
of happiness were soon dispelled, for, as soon as this work was
finished, he recommenced his old erratic mode of life, and was often
absent for weeks together, leaving his wife alone, yet not unprotected,
for, since his marriage, old Nero, a favorite hound, was always left at
home as her guardian. He was a noble dog--a cross between the old
Scottish deerhound and the bloodhound, and would hunt an Indian as well
as a deer or bear, which, Tom said, "was a proof they Injins was a sort
o' warmint, or why should the brute beast take to hunt 'em, nat'ral
like--him that took no notice of white men?"

One clear, cold morning, about two years after their marriage, Susan was
awakened by a loud crash, immediately succeeded by Nero's deep baying.
She recollected that she had shut him in the house, as usual, the night
before. Supposing he had winded some solitary wolf or bear prowling
around the hut, and effected his escape, she took little notice of the
circumstance; but a few moments after came a shrill, wild cry, which
made her blood run cold. To spring from her bed, throw on her clothes,
and rush from the hut, was the work of a minute. She no longer doubted
what the hound was in pursuit of. Fearful thoughts shot through her
brain; she called wildly on Nero, and, to her joy, he came dashing
through the thick underwood. As the dog drew near, she saw that he
galloped heavily, and carried in his mouth some large, dark creature.
Her brain reeled; she felt a cold and sickly shudder dart through her
limbs. But Susan was a hunter's daughter, and, all her life, had been
accustomed to witness scenes of danger and of horror, and in this school
had learned to subdue the natural timidity of her character. With a
powerful effort, she recovered herself, just as Nero dropped at her feet
a little Indian child, apparently between three and four years old. She
bent down over him; but there was no sound or motion: she placed her
hand on his little, naked chest; the heart within had ceased to beat: he
was dead! The deep marks of the dog's fangs were visible on the neck;
but the body was untorn. Old Nero stood, with his large, bright eyes
fixed on the face of his mistress, fawning on her, as if he expected to
be praised for what he had done, and seemed to wonder why she looked so
terrified. But Susan spurned him from her; and the fierce animal, who
would have pulled down an Indian as he would a deer, crouched humbly at
the young woman's feet. Susan carried the little body gently in her arms
to the hut, and laid it on her own bed. Her first impulse was to seize
the loaded rifle that hung over the fire-place, and shoot the hound; and
yet she felt she could not do it, for, in the lone life she led, the
faithful animal seemed like a dear and valued friend, who loved and
watched over her, as if aware of the precious charge intrusted to him.
She thought, also, of what her husband would say, when, on his return,
he should find his old companion dead. Susan had never seen Tom roused.
To her he had ever shown nothing but kindness; yet she feared as well as
loved him, for there was a fire in those dark eyes which told of deep,
wild passions hidden in his breast, and she knew that the lives of a
whole tribe of Indians would be light in the balance against that of his
favorite hound.

Having securely fastened up Nero, Susan, with a heavy heart, proceeded
to examine the ground around the hut. In several places she observed the
impression of a small moccasined foot; but not a child's. The tracks
were deeply marked, unlike the usual light, elastic tread of an Indian.
From this circumstance Susan easily inferred that the woman had been
carrying her child when attacked by the dog. There was nothing to show
why she had come so near the hut: most probably the hopes of some petty
plunder had been the inducement. Susan did not dare to wander far from
home, fearing a band of Indians might be in the neighborhood. She
returned sorrowfully to the hut, and employed herself in blocking up
the window, or rather the hole where the window had been, for the
powerful hound had, in his leap, dashed out the entire frame, and
shattered it to pieces. When this was finished, Susan dug a grave, and
in it laid the little Indian boy. She made it close to the hut, for she
could not bear that wolves should devour those delicate limbs, and she
knew that there it would be safe. The next day Tom returned. He had been
very unsuccessful, and intended setting out again, in a few days, in a
different direction.

"Susan," he said, when he had heard her sad story, "I wish you'd left
the child where the dog killed him. The squaw's high sartain to come
back a seekin' for the body, and 'tis a pity the poor crittur should be
disappointed. Besides, the Indians will be high sartain to put it down
to us; whereas, if so be as they'd found the body 'pon the spot, may be
they'd onderstand as 'twas an accident like, for they 're unkimmon
cunning warmint, though they an't got sense like Christians."

"Why do you think the poor woman came here?" said Susan. "I never knew
an Indian squaw so near the hut before?"

She fancied a dark shadow flitted across her husband's brow. He made no
reply; and, on repeating the question, said angrily, "How should I
know? 'Tis as well to ask for a bear's reasons as an Injin's."

Tom only staid at home long enough to mend the broken window, and plant
a small spot of Indian corn, and then again set out, telling Susan not
to expect him home in less than a month. "If that squaw comes this way
agin," he said, "as may be she will, just put out any victuals you've
a-got for the poor crittur; though may be she wont come, for they Injins
be onkimmon skeary." Susan wondered at his taking an interest in the
woman, and often thought of that dark look she had noticed, and of Tom's
unwillingness to speak on the subject. She never knew that on his last
hunting expedition, when hiding some skins which he intended to fetch on
his return, he had observed an Indian watching him, and had shot him,
with as little mercy as he would have shown to a wolf. On Tom's return
to the spot, the body was gone; and in the soft, damp soil was the mark
of an Indian squaw's foot; and by its side, a little child's. He was
sorry then for the deed he had done; he thought of the grief of the poor
widow, and how it would be possible for her to live until she could
reach her tribe, who were far, far distant, at the foot of the Rocky
Mountains; and now to feel, that, through his means, too, she had lost
her child, put thoughts into his mind that had never before found a
place there. He thought that one God had formed the red man as well as
the white--of the souls of the many Indians hurried into eternity by his
unerring rifle; and they, perhaps, were more fitted for their "happy
hunting grounds," than he for the white man's heaven. In this state of
mind, every word his wife had said to him seemed a reproach, and he was
glad again to be alone, in the forest, with his rifle and his hounds.

The afternoon of the third day after Tom's departure, as Susan was
sitting at work, she heard something scratching and whining at the door.
Nero, who was by her side, evinced no signs of anger, but ran to the
door, showing his white teeth, as was his custom when pleased. Susan
unbarred it, when, to her astonishment, the two deerhounds her husband
had taken with him, walked into the hut, looking weary and soiled. At
first she thought Tom might have killed a deer not far from home, and
had brought her a fresh supply of venison; but no one was there. She
rushed from the hut, and soon, breathless and terrified, reached the
squatter's cabin. John Wilton and his three sons were just returned from
the clearings, when Susan ran into their comfortable kitchen; her long,
black hair, streaming on her shoulders, and her wild and bloodshot
eyes, gave her the appearance of a maniac. In a few unconnected words,
she explained to them the cause of her terror, and implored them to set
off immediately in search of her husband. It was in vain they told her
of the uselessness of going at that time--of the impossibility of
following a trail in the dark. She said she would go herself: she felt
sure of finding him; and, at last, they were obliged to use force to
prevent her leaving the house.

The next morning at daybreak, Wilton and his two sons were mounted, and
ready to set out, intending to take Nero with them; but nothing could
induce him to leave his mistress: he resisted passively for some time,
until one of the young men attempted to pass a rope round his neck, to
drag him away: then his forbearance vanished, and he sprang upon his
tormentor, threw him down, and would have strangled him, if Susan had
not been present. Finding it impossible to make Nero accompany them,
they left without him, but had not proceeded many miles before he and
his mistress were at their side. They begged Susan to return; told her
of the inconvenience she would be to them. It was no avail; she had but
one answer,--"I am a hunter's daughter, and a hunter's wife." She told
them that, knowing how useful Nero would be to them in their search,
she had secretly taken a horse and followed them.

The party rode first to Tom Cooper's hut, and there, having dismounted,
leading their horses through the forest, followed the trail, as only men
long accustomed to savage life can do. At night they lay on the ground,
covered with their thick, bear-skin cloaks: for Susan only, they heaped
a bed of dried leaves; but she refused to occupy it, saying, it was her
duty to bear the same hardships they did. Ever since their departure,
she had shown no sign of sorrow. Although slight and delicately formed,
she never appeared fatigued: her whole soul was absorbed in one longing
desire--to find her husband's body; for, from the first, she had
abandoned the hope of ever again seeing him in life. This desire
supported her through everything. Early the next morning they were on
the trail. About noon, as they were crossing a small brook, the hound
suddenly dashed away from them, and was lost in the thicket. At first
they fancied they might have crossed the track of a deer or wolf; but a
long, mournful howl soon told the sad truth, for, not far from the
brook, lay the faithful dog on the dead body of his master, which was
pierced to the heart by an Indian arrow.

The murderer had apparently been afraid to approach on account of the
dogs, for the body was left as it had fallen--not even the rifle was
gone. No sign of Indians could be discovered, save one small footprint,
which was instantly pronounced to be that of a squaw. Susan showed no
grief at the sight of the body: she maintained the same forced calmness,
and seemed comforted that it was found. Old Wilton staid with her to
remove all that now remained of her darling husband, and his two sons
set out on the trail, which soon led them into the open prairie, where
it was easily traced through the tall, thick grass. They continued
riding all that afternoon, and the next morning by daybreak were again
on the track, which they followed to the banks of a wide but shallow
stream. There they saw the remains of a fire. One of the brothers thrust
his hand among the ashes, which were still warm. They crossed the river;
and, in the soft sand on the opposite bank, saw again the print of
small, moccasined footsteps. Here they were at a loss; for the rank
prairie-grass had been consumed by one of those fearful fires so common
in the prairies, and in its stead grew short, sweet herbage, where even
an Indian's eye could observe no trace. They were on the point of
abandoning the pursuit, when Richard, the younger of the two, called his
brother's attention to Nero, who had, of his own accord, left his
mistress to accompany them, an if he now understood what they were
about. The hound was trotting to and fro, with his nose to the ground,
as if endeavoring to pick out a cold scent Edward laughed at his
brother, and pointed to the track of a deer that had come to drink at
the river. At last he agreed to follow Nero, who was now cantering
slowly across the prairie. The pace gradually increased, until, on a
spot where the grass had grown more luxuriantly than elsewhere, Nero
threw up his nose, gave a deep bay, and started off at so furious a
pace, that, although well mounted, they had great difficulty in keeping
up with him. He soon brought them to the borders of another forest,
where, finding it impossible to take their horses further, they tethered
them to a tree, and set off again on foot. They lost sight of the hound,
but still, from time to time, heard his loud baying far away. At last
they fancied it sounded nearer instead of becoming less distinct; and of
this they were soon convinced. They still went on in the direction
whence the sound proceeded, until they saw Nero sitting with his
fore-paws against the trunk of a tree, no longer mouthing like a
well-trained hound, but yelling like a fury. They looked up in the tree,
but could see nothing, until, at last, Edward espied a large hollow
about half way up the trunk. "I was right, you see," he said. "After
all, it nothing but a bear; but we may as well shoot the brute that has
given us so much trouble."

They set to work immediately with their axes to fell the tree. It began
to totter, when a dark object, they could not tell what, in the dim
twilight, crawled from its place of concealment to the extremity of a
branch, and from thence sprung into the next tree. Snatching up their
rifles, they both fired together; when, to their astonishment, instead
of a bear, a young Indian squaw, with a wild yell, fell to the ground.
They ran to the spot where she lay motionless, and carried her to the
borders of the wood, where they had that morning dismounted. Richard
lifted her on his horse, and springing himself into the saddle, carried
the almost lifeless body before him. The poor creature never spoke.
Several times they stopped, thinking she was dead: her pulse only told
the spirit had not flown from its earthly tenement. When they reached
the river which had been crossed by them before, they washed the wounds,
and sprinkled water on her face. This appeared to revive her; and when
Richard again lifted her in his arms to place her on his horse, he
fancied he heard her mutter, in Iroquois, one word,--"revenged!" It was
a strange sight, those two powerful men tending so carefully the being
they had a few hours before sought to slay, and endeavoring to stanch
the blood that flowed from wounds which they had made! Yet so it was. It
would have appeared to them a sin to leave the Indian woman to die; yet
they felt no remorse at having inflicted the wound, and doubtless would
have been better pleased had it been mortal; but they would not have
murdered a wounded enemy, even an Indian warrior, still less a squaw.
The party continued their journey until midnight, when they stopped, to
rest their jaded horses. Having wrapped the squaw in their bear-skins,
they lay down themselves, with no covering save the clothes they wore.
They were in no want of provisions, as, not knowing when they might
return, they had taken a good supply of bread and dried venison, not
wishing to loose any precious time in seeking food while on the trail.
The brandy still remaining in their flasks, they preserved for the use
of their captive. The evening of the following day, they reached the
trapper's hut, where they were not a little surprised to find Susan. She
told them that, although John Wilton had begged her to live with them,
she could not bear to leave the spot where everything reminded her of
one to think of whom was now her only consolation; and that, while she
had Nero, she feared nothing. They needed not to tell their mournful
tale--Susan already understood it but too clearly. She begged them to
leave the Indian woman with her. "You have no one," said she, "to tend
and watch her as I can do; besides, it is not right that I should lay
such a burden on you." Although unwilling to impose on her mind the
painful task of nursing her husband's murderess, they could not allow
but that she was right; and seeing how earnestly she desired it, at last
consented to leave the Indian woman with her.

For many weeks Susan nursed her charge, as tenderly as if it had been
her sister. At first she lay almost motionless, and rarely spoke; then
she grew delirious, and raved wildly. Susan fortunately could not
understand what she said, but often turned shuddering away, when the
Indian woman would strive to rise from her bed, and move her arms, as if
drawing a bow; or yell wildly, and cower in terror beneath the
clothes--reacting in her delirium the fearful scenes through which she
had passed. By degrees reason returned; she gradually got better, but
seemed restless and unhappy, and could not bear the sight of Nero. The
first proof of returning reason she had shown, was a shriek of terror
when he once accidentally followed his mistress into the room where she
lay. One morning Susan missed her; she searched around the hut, but she
was gone, without having taken farewell of her kind benefactress.

A few years after, Susan Cooper,--no longer "pretty Susan," for time and
grief had done their work--heard, late one night, a hurried knock, which
was repeated several times before she could open the door, each time
more loudly than before. She called to ask who it was at that late hour
of night. A few hurried words in Iroquois was the reply, and Susan
congratulated herself on having spoken before unbarring the door. But,
on listening again, she distinctly heard the same voice say,
"Quick--quick!" and recognized it as the Indian woman's voice she had
nursed. The door was instantly opened, when the squaw rushed into the
hut, seized Susan by the arm, and made signs to her to come away. She
was too much excited to remember then the few words of English she had
picked up when living with the white woman. Expressing her meaning by
gestures, with a clearness peculiar to the Indians, she dragged rather
than led Susan from the hut. They had just reached the edge of the
forest when the wild yells of the Indians sounded in their ears. Having
gone with Susan a little way into the forest, her guide left her. For
nearly four hours she lay there, half dead with cold and terror, not
daring to move from her place of concealment. She saw the flames of the
dwelling, where so many lonely hours had been passed, rising above the
trees, and heard the shrill "whoops" of the retiring Indians. Nero, who
was lying by her side, suddenly rose and gave a low growl. Silently a
dark figure came gliding among the trees directly to the spot where she
lay. She gave herself up for lost; but it was the Indian woman, who came
to her, and dropped at her feet a bag of money, the remains of her late
husband's savings. The grateful creature knew where it was kept; and
while the Indians were busied examining the rifles and other objects
more interesting to them, had carried it off unobserved. Waving her arm
around to show that all was now quiet, she pointed in the direction of
Wilton's house, and was again lost among the trees.

Day was just breaking when Susan reached the squatter's cabin. Having
heard the sad story, Wilton and two of his sons started immediately for
the spot. Nothing was to be seen save a heap of ashes. The party had
apparently consisted of only three or four Indians; but a powerful tribe
being in the neighborhood, they saw it would be too hazardous to follow
them. From this time, Susan lived with the Wiltons. She was as a
daughter to the old man, and a sister to his sons, who often said,
"That, as far as they were concerned, the Indians had never done a
kindlier action than in burning down Susan Cooper's hut."



DEAF SMITH,

THE CELEBRATED TEXAN SPY.

About two years after the Texan revolution, a difficulty occurred
between the new government and a portion of the people, which threatened
the most serious consequences--even the bloodshed and horrors of civil
war. Briefly, the cause was this: The constitution had fixed the city of
Austin as the permanent capital, where the public archives were to be
kept, with the reservation, however, of a power in the president to
order their temporary removal, in case of danger from the inroads of a
foreign enemy, or the force of a sudden insurrection.

Conceiving that the exceptional emergency had arrived, as the Camanches
frequently committed ravages within sight of the capital itself,
Houston, who then resided at Washington, on the Brazos, dispatched an
order commanding his subordinate functionaries to send the state records
to the latter place, which he declared to be, _pro tempore_, the seat of
government.

It is impossible to describe the stormy excitement which the
promulgation of this fiat raised in Austin. The keepers of hotels,
boarding-houses, groceries, and faro-banks, were thunderstruck,--maddened
to frenzy; for the measure would be a death-blow to their prosperity
in business; and, accordingly, they determined at once to take the
necessary steps to avert the danger, by opposing the execution of
Houston's mandate. They called a mass meeting of the citizens and
farmers of the circumjacent country, who were all more or less
interested in the question; and, after many fiery speeches against
the asserted tyranny of the administration, it was unanimously resolved
to prevent the removal of the archives, by open and armed resistance.
To that end, they organized a company of four hundred men; one moiety
of whom, relieving the other at regular periods of duty, should keep
constant guard around the state-house until the peril passed by. The
commander of this force was one Colonel Morton, who had achieved
considerable renown in the war for independence, and had still more
recently displayed desperate bravery in two desperate duels, in both of
which he had cut his antagonist nearly to pieces with the bowie-knife.
Indeed, from the notoriety of his character, for revenge as well as
courage, it was thought that President Houston would renounce his
purpose touching the archives, so soon as he should learn who was the
leader of the opposition.

Morton, on his part, whose vanity fully equaled his personal prowess,
encouraged and justified the prevailing opinion, by his boastful
threats. He swore that if the president did succeed in removing the
records by the march of an overpowering force, he would then, himself,
hunt him down like a wolf, and shoot him with as little ceremony, or
stab him in his bed, or waylay him in his walks of recreation. He even
wrote the hero of San Jacinto to that effect. The latter replied in a
note of laconic brevity:

"If the people of Austin do not send the archives, I shall certainly
come and take them; and if Colonel Morton can kill me, he is welcome to
my ear-cap."

On the reception of this answer, the guard was doubled around the
state-house. Chosen sentinels were stationed along the road leading to
the capital, the military paraded the streets from morning till night,
and a select caucus held permanent session in the city hall. In short,
everything betokened a coming tempest.

One day, while matters were in this precarious condition, the caucus at
the city hall was surprised by the sudden appearance of a stranger,
whose mode of entering was as extraordinary as his looks and dress. He
did not knock at the closed door--he did not seek admission there at
all; but climbing, unseen, a small, bushy-topped, live oak, which grew
beside the wall, he leaped, without sound or warning, through a lofty
window. He was clothed altogether in buckskin, carried a long and heavy
rifle in his hand, wore at the button of his left suspender a large
bowie-knife, and had in his leathern belt a couple of pistols half the
length of his gun. He was tall, straight as an arrow, active as a
panther in his motions, with dark complexion, and luxuriant, jetty hair,
with a severe, iron-like countenance, that seemed never to have known a
smile, and eyes of intense, vivid black, wild and rolling, and piercing
as the point of a dagger. His strange advent inspired a thrill of
involuntary fear, and many present unconsciously grasped the handles of
their side-arms.

"Who are you, that thus presumes to intrude among gentlemen, without
invitation?" demanded Colonel Morton, ferociously essaying to cow down
the stranger with his eye.

The latter returned his stare with compound interest, and laid his long,
bony finger on his lip, as a sign--but of what, the spectators could
not imagine.

"Who are you? Speak! or I will cut an answer out of your heart!" shouted
Morton, almost distracted with rage, by the cool, sneering gaze of the
other, who now removed his finger from his lip, and laid it on the hilt
of his monstrous knife.

The fiery colonel then drew his dagger, and was in the act of advancing
upon the stranger, when several caught him and held him back,
remonstrating. "Let him alone, Morton, for God's sake. Do you not
perceive that he is crazy?"

At the moment, Judge Webb, a man of shrewd intellect and courteous
manners, stepped forward, and addressed the intruder in a most
respectful manner:

"My good friend, I presume you have made a mistake in the house. This is
a private meeting, where none but members are admitted."

The stranger did not appear to comprehend the words; but he could not
fail to understand the mild and deprecatory manner. His rigid features
relaxed, and moving to a table in the center of the hall, where there
were materials and implements for writing, he seized a pen, and traced
one line: "I am deaf." He then held it up before the spectators, as a
sort of natural apology for his own want of politeness.

Judge Webb took the paper, and wrote a question: "Dear sir, will you be
so obliging as to inform us what is your business with the
present meeting?"

The other responded by delivering a letter, inscribed on the back, "To
the citizens of Austin." They broke the seal and read it aloud. It was
from Houston, and showed the usual terse brevity of his style:

"FELLOW CITIZENS:--Though in error, and deceived by the arts of
traitors, I will give you three days more to decide whether you will
surrender the public archives. At the end of that time you will please
let me know your decision."

SAM. HOUSTON.

After the reading, the deaf man waited a few seconds, as if for a reply,
and then turned and was about to leave the hall, when Colonel Morton,
interposed, and sternly beckoned him back to the table. The stranger
obeyed, and Morton wrote: "You were brave enough to insult me by your
threatening looks ten minutes ago; are you brave enough now to give me
satisfaction?"

The stranger penned his reply: "I am at your service!"

Morton wrote again: "Who will be your second?"

The stranger rejoined: "I am too generous to seek an advantage; and too
brave to fear any on part of others; therefore, I never need the aid of
a second."

Morton penned: "Name your terms."

The stranger traced, without a moment's hesitation: "Time, sunset this
evening; place, the left bank of the Colorado, opposite Austin; weapons,
rifles; and distance, a hundred yards. Do not fail to be in time!"

He then took three steps across the floor, and disappeared through the
window, as he had entered.

"What?" exclaimed Judge Webb, "is it possible Colonel Morton, that you
intend to fight that man? He is a mute, if not a positive maniac. Such a
meeting, I fear, will sadly tarnish the luster of your laurels."

"You are mistaken," replied Morton, with a smile; "that mute is a hero
whose fame stands in the records of a dozen battles, and at least half
as many bloody duels. Besides, he is the favorite emissary and bosom
friend of Houston. If I have the good fortune to kill him, I think it
will tempt the president to retract his vow against venturing any more
on the field of honor."

"You know the man, then. Who is he? Who is he?" asked twenty voices
together.

"Deaf Smith," answered Morton, coolly.

"Why, no; that can not be. Deaf Smith was slain at San Jacinto,"
remarked Judge Webb.

"There, again, your honor is mistaken," said Morton. "The story of
Smith's death was a mere fiction, got up by Houston to save the life of
his favorite from the sworn vengeance of certain Texans, on whose
conduct he had acted as a spy. I fathomed the artifice twelve
months since."

"If what you say be true, you are a madman yourself!" exclaimed Webb.
"Deaf Smith was was never known to miss his mark. He has often brought
down ravens in their most rapid flight, and killed Camanches and
Mexicans at a distance of of two hundred and fifty yards!"

"Say no more," answered Colonel Morton, in tones of deep determination;
"the thing is already settled. I have already agreed to meet him. There
can be no disgrace in falling before such a shot, and, if I succeed, my
triumph will confer the greater glory!"

Such was the general habit of thought and feeling prevalent throughout
Texas at that period.

Toward evening a vast crowd assembled at the place appointed to witness
the hostile meeting; and so great was the popular recklessness as to
affairs of the sort, that numerous and considerable sums were wagered on
the result. At length the red orb of the summer sun touched the curved
rim of the western horizon, covering it all with crimson and gold, and
filling the air with a flood of burning glory; and then the two mortal
antagonists, armed with long, ponderous rifles, took their stations,
back to back, and at a preconcerted signal--the waving of a white
handkerchief--walked slowly and steadily off, in opposite directions,
counting their steps until each had measured fifty. They both completed
the given number about the same instant, and then they wheeled, each to
aim and fire when he chose. As the distance was great, both paused for
some seconds--long enough for the beholders to flash their eyes from one
to the other, and mark the striking contrast betwixt them. The face of
Colonel Morton was calm and smiling; but the smile it bore had a most
murderous meaning. On the contrary, the countenance of Deaf Smith was
stern and passionless as ever. A side view of his features might have
been mistaken for a profile done in cast iron. The one, too, was
dressed in the richest cloth; the other in smoke-tinted leather. But
that made no difference in Texas then; for the heirs of heroic courage
were all considered peers--the class of inferiors embraced none
but cowards.

Presently two rifles exploded with simultaneous roars. Colonel Morton
gave a prodigious bound upward, and dropped to the earth a corpse! Deaf
Smith stood erect, and immediately began to reload his rifle; and then,
having finished his brief task, he hastened away into the
adjacent forest.

Three days afterward, General Houston, accompanied by Deaf Smith and ten
other men, appeared in Austin, and, without further opposition, removed
the state papers.

The history of the hero of the foregoing anecdote was one of the most
extraordinary ever known in the West. He made his advent in Texas at an
early period, and continued to reside there until his death, which
happened some two years ago; but, although he had many warm personal
friends, no one could ever ascertain either the land of his birth, or a
single gleam of his previous biography. When he was questioned on the
subject, he laid his finger on his lip; and if pressed more urgently,
his brow writhed, and his dark eye seemed to shoot sparks of livid fire!
He could write with astonishing correctness and facility, considering
his situation; and, although denied the exquisite pleasure and priceless
advantages of the sense of hearing, nature had given him ample
compensation, by an eye, quick and far-seeing as an eagle's; and a
smell, keen and incredible as that of a raven. He could discover objects
moving miles away in the far-off prairie, when others could perceive
nothing but earth and sky; and the rangers used to declare that he could
catch the scent of a Mexican or Indian at as great a distance as a
buzzard could distinguish the odor of a dead carcass.

It was these qualities which fitted him so well for a spy, in which
capacity he rendered invaluable services to Houston's army during the
war of independence. He always went alone, and generally obtained the
information desired. His habits in private life were equally singular.
He could never be persuaded to sleep under the roof of a house, or even
to use a tent-cloth. Wrapped in his blanket, he loved to lie out in the
open air, under the blue canopy of pure ether, and count the stars, or
gaze, with a yearning look, at the melancholy moon. When not employed as
a spy or guide, he subsisted by hunting, being often absent on solitary
excursions for weeks and even months together, in the wilderness. He was
a genuine son of nature, a grown up child of the woods and prairie,
which he worshiped with a sort of Pagan adoration. Excluded by his
infirmities from cordial fellowship with his kind, he made the inanimate
things of the earth his friends, and entered, by the heart's own
adoption, into brotherhood with the luminaries of heaven! Wherever there
was land or water, barren rocks or tangled brakes of wild, waving cane,
there was Deaf Smith's home, and there he was happy; but in the streets
of great cities, in all the great thoroughfares of men, wherever there
was flattery or fawning, base cunning or craven fear, there was Deaf
Smith an alien and an exile.

Strange soul! he hath departed on the long journey, away among those
high, bright stars, which were his night-lamps; and he hath either
solved or ceased to ponder the deep mystery of the magic word, "life."
He is dead; therefore let his errors rest in oblivion, and his virtues
be remembered with hope.



ESCAPE FROM A SHARK.

While she was lying in the harbor at Havana, it was very hot on board
the Royal Consort, about four o'clock in the afternoon of the 14th of
July. There was not the slightest movement in the air; the rays of the
sun seemed to burn down into the water. Silence took hold of the
animated creation. It was too hot to talk, whistle, or sing; to bark, to
crow, or to bray. Every thing crept under cover, but Sambo and Cuffee,
two fine-looking blacks, who sat sunning themselves on the quay, and
thought "him berry pleasant weather," and glistened like a new
Bristol bottle.

Sambo and Cuffee, as we have said, were sitting on the quay, enjoying
the pleasant sunshine, and making their evening repast of banana, when
they heard the plunge into the water by the side of the Royal Consort,
and presently saw Brook Watson emerging from the deep, his hands to his
eyes to free them from the brine, balancing up and down, spattering the
water from his mouth, and then throwing himself forward, hand over hand,
as if at length he really felt himself in his element.

"Oh, Massa Bacra!" roared out Sambo, as soon as he could recover from
his astonishment enough to speak, "Oh, Senor! he white man neber go to
swim! Oh, de tiburon! he berry bad bite, come de shark; he hab berry big
mouth; he eatee a Senor all up down!"

Such was the exclamation of Sambo, in the best English he had been able
to pick up, in a few years' service, in unlading the American vessels,
that came to the Havana. It was intended to apprise the bold but
inexperienced stranger, that the waters were filled with sharks, and
that it was dangerous to swim in them. The words were scarcely uttered,
and, even if they were heard, had not time to produce their effect, when
Cuffee responded to the exclamation of his sable colleague, with--

"Oh, Madre de Dios! see, see, de tiburon! de shark!--ah, San Salvador!
ah, pobre joven! matar, todo comer, he eat him all down, berry soon!"

This second cry had been drawn from the kind-hearted negro, by seeing,
at a distance in the water a smooth-shooting streak, which an
inexperienced eye would not have noticed, but which Sambo and Cuffee
knew full well. It was the wake of a shark. At a distance of a mile or
two, the shark had perceived his prey; and, with the rapidity of sound,
he had shot across the intervening space, scarcely disturbing the
surface with a ripple. Cuffee's practiced eye alone had seen a flash of
his tail, at the distance of a mile and a half; and, raising his voice
to the utmost of his strength, he had endeavored to apprise the
incautious swimmer of his danger. Brook heard the shout, and turned his
eye in the direction in which the negro pointed; and, well skilled in
all the appearances of the water, under which he could see almost as
well as in the open air, he perceived the sharp forehead of the fearful
animal rushing toward him, head on, with a rapidity; which bade defiance
to flight.

[Illustration: ESCAPE FROM A SHARK]

In a moment, the dreadful monster had shot across the entire space that
separated him from Brook; and had stopped, as if its vitality had been,
instantly arrested, at the distance of about twelve feet from our
swimmer. Brook had drawn himself up in the most pugnacious attitude
possible, and, was treading water with great activity. The shark,
probably unused to any signs of making battle, remained, for one moment,
quiet; and then, like a flash of lightning, shot sidelong off, and came
round in the rear. Brook, however, was as wide awake as his enemy.

The plashing of the oars of Sambo and Cuffee warned the sagacious
monster of gathering foes. Whirling himself over on his back, and
turning up his long, white belly, and opening his terrific jaws, set
round with a double row of broad, serrated teeth, the whole roof of his
mouth paved with horrent fangs, all standing erect, sharp, and rigid,
just permitting the blood-bright red to be seen between their roots, he
darted toward Brook. Brook's self-possession stood by him in this trying
moment. He knew very well if the animal reached him in a vital part,
that instant death was his fate; and, with a rapid movement, either of
instinct or calculation, he threw himself backward, kicking, at the same
moment, at the shark. In consequence of this movement, his foot and leg
passed into the horrid maw of the dreadful monster, and were severed in
a moment,--muscles, sinews, and bone. In the next moment, Sambo and
Cuffee were at his side; and lifted him into the boat, convulsed with
pain, and fainting with loss of blood. Brook was taken on board,
bandages and styptics were applied, and in due season the youth
recovered.

The place of his lost limb was supplied by a wooden one; and industry,
temperance, probity, and zeal, supplied the place of a regiment of legs,
when employed to prop up a lazy and dissipated frame.



ADVENTURE WITH PIRATES.

FROM "FORTUNE'S ADVENTURES IN CHINA."

Early in the morning, the whole fleet was in motion, starting all
together, for the sake of mutual protection. The wind and tide were both
fair, and we proceeded along the coast with great rapidity, and were
soon out of sight of the Min and its beautiful and romantic scenery. The
plan of mutual protection soon seemed to be abandoned, and the vessels
soon separated into threes and fours, each getting on as well and as
fast as it could. About four o'clock in the afternoon, and when we were
some fifty or sixty miles from the Min, the captain and the pilot came
hurriedly down to my cabin, and informed me that they saw a number of
Jan-dous, right ahead, lying in wait for us. I ridiculed the idea, and
told them that they imagined every junk they saw to be a pirate; but
they still maintained that they were so, and I therefore considered it
prudent to be prepared for the worst. I got out of bed, ill and feverish
as I was, and carefully examined my fire-arms, clearing the nipples of
my gun and pistols, and putting on fresh caps. I also rammed down a
ball upon the top of each charge of shot in my gun, put a pistol in each
side-pocket, and patiently awaited for the result. By the aid of a small
pocket-telescope, I could see, as the nearest junk approached, that her
deck was crowded with men; I then had no longer any doubts regarding her
intentions. The pilot, an intelligent old man, now came up to me, and
said that he thought resistance would be of no use; I might manage to
beat off one junk, or even two, but I had no chance with five of them.
Being at that time in no mood to take advice, or be dictated by any one,
I ordered him off to look after his own duty. I knew perfectly well,
that if we were taken by the pirates, I had not the slightest chance of
escape; for the first thing they would do, would be to knock me on the
head and throw me overboard, as they would deem it dangerous to
themselves were I to get away. At the same time, I must confess, I had
little hopes of being able to beat off such a number, and devoutly
wished myself anywhere rather than where I was. The scene around me was
a strange one. The captain, pilot, and one or two native passengers were
taking up the boards of the cabin floor, and putting their money and
other valuables out of sight, among the ballast. The common sailors,
too, had their copper cash, or "tsien," to hide; and the whole place
was in a state of bustle and confusion. When all their more valuable
property was hidden, they began to make some preparations for defense.
Baskets of small stones were brought up from the hold, and emptied out
on the most convenient parts of the deck, and were intended to be used
instead of fire-arms, when the pirates came to close quarters. This is a
common mode of defense in various parts of China, and is effectual
enough when the enemy has only similar weapons to bring against them;
but on the coast of Fokien, where we were now, all the pirate junks
carried guns; and, consequently, a whole deck-load of stones could be of
little use against them.

I was surrounded by several of the crew, who might well be called "Job's
comforters," some suggesting one thing and some another; and many
proposed that we should bring the junk round and run back to the Min.
The nearest pirate was now within two or three hundred yards of us, and,
putting her helm down, gave us a broadside from her guns. All was now
dismay and consternation on board our junk, and every man ran below,
except two who were at the helm. I expected every moment that these also
would leave their post; and then we should have been an easy prey to
the pirates. "My gun is nearer you than those of the Jan-dous," said I
to the two men, "and if you move from the helm, depend upon it, I will
shoot you." The poor fellows looked very uncomfortable; but, I suppose,
thought they had better stand the fire of the pirates than mine, and
kept at their post. Large boards, heaps of old clothes, mats, and things
of that sort, which were at hand, were thrown up to protect us from the
shot; and, as we had every stitch of sail set, and a fair wind, we were
going through the water at the rate of seven or eight miles an hour.

The shot from the pirate fell considerably short of us, I was therefore
enabled to form an opinion of the range and power of their guns, which
was of some use to me. Assistance from our cowardly crew was quite out
of the question, for there was not a man among them brave enough to use
the stones which he had brought on deck; and which, perhaps, might have
been of some little use when the pirates came nearer. The fair wind and
all the press of sail which we had crowded on the junk proved of no use
to us. Again the nearest pirate fired on us. The shot this time fell
just under our stern. I still remained quiet, as I had determined not to
fire a single shot until I was quite certain my gun would take effect.
The third broadside, which followed this, came whizzing over our heads
and through the sails, without, however, wounding either the men at the
helm or myself.

The pirates now seemed quite sure of their prize, and came down upon us,
hooting and yelling like demons, at the same time loading their guns,
and evidently determined not to spare their shot. This was a moment of
intense interest. The plan which I had formed from the first, was now
about to be put to proof; and, if the pirates were not the cowards which
I believed them to be, nothing could save us from falling into their
hands. Their fearful yells seem to be ringing in my ears even now, after
this lapse of time, and when I am on the other side of the globe.

The nearest junk was now within thirty yards of ours; their guns were
loaded, and I knew that the next discharge would completely rake our
decks "Now," said I to our helmsman, "keep your eyes fixed on me, and
the moment you see me fall flat on the deck, you must do the same, or
you will be shot." I knew that the pirate, who was now on our stern,
could not bring his guns to bear upon us, without putting his helm down
and bringing his gangway at right angles with our stern, as his guns
were fired from the gangway. I therefore kept a sharp eye upon the
helmsman, and the moment I saw him putting the helm down, I ordered our
steersman to fall flat on their faces behind some wood, and, at the same
moment, did so myself. We had scarcely done so, when bang! bang! went
their guns, and the shot came whizzing close over us, splintering the
wood about us in all directions. Fortunately none of us were struck.
"Now, mandarin, now! they are quite close enough," cried out my
companions, who did not wish to have another broadside like the last. I,
being of the same opinion, raised myself above the high stern of our
junk; and while the pirates were not more than twenty yards from us,
hooting and yelling, I raked their decks, fore and aft, with shot and
ball from my double-barreled gun.

Had a thunderbolt fallen among them, they could not have been more
surprised. Doubtless, many were wounded, and probably some killed. At
all events, the whole of the crew, not fewer than forty or fifty men,
who, a moment before, crowded the deck, disappeared in a marvellous
manner; sheltering themselves behind the bulwarks, or lying flat on
their faces. They were so completely taken by surprise, that their junk
was left without a helmsman; her sails flapped in the wind; and, as we
were still carrying all sail, and keeping on her right course, they were
soon left a considerable way astern.

Another was now bearing down upon us as boldly as his companion had
done, and commenced firing in the same manner. Having been so successful
with the first, I determined to follow the same plan with this one, and
to pay no attention to his firing until he should come to close
quarters. The plot now began to thicken; for the first junk had gathered
way again, and was following in our wake, although keeping at a
respectful distance; and three others, although still further distant,
were making for the scene of action, as fast as they could. In the
meantime, the second was almost alongside, and continued giving us a
broadside, now and then, with his guns. Watching their helm as before,
we sheltered ourselves as well as we could; at the same time, my poor
fellows who were steering, kept begging and praying that I would fire
into our pursuers as soon as possible, or we should be all killed. As
soon as we came within twenty or thirty yards of us, I gave them the
contents of both barrels, raking their decks as before. This time the
helmsman fell, and, doubtless, several were wounded. In a minute or two
I could see nothing but boards and shields, which were held up by the
pirates, to protect themselves from my firing; their junk went up into
the wind, for want of a helmsman, and was soon left some distance
behind us.

While I was watching this vessel, our men called out to me that there
was another close on our lee-bow, which I had not observed on account of
our mainsail. Luckily, however, it proved to be a Ning-po wood-junk,
like ourselves, which the pirates had taken a short time before, but
which, although manned by these rascals, could do us no harm, having no
guns. The poor Ning-po crew, whom I could plainly see on board, seemed
to be very much down-hearted and frightened. I was afterward informed,
that when a junk is captured, all the principal people, such as the
captain, pilot, and passengers, are taken out of her, and a number of
the pirates go on board and take her into some of their dens among the
islands, and keep her there until a heavy ransom is paid, both for the
junk and the people. Sometimes, when a ransom can not be obtained, the
masts, and spars, and everything else which is of any value, are taken
out of her, and she is set on fire.

The two other piratical junks which had been following in our wake for
some time, when they saw what had happened, would not venture any
nearer; and at last, much to my satisfaction, the whole set of them
bore away.



A SEA FOWLING ADVENTURE.

One pleasant afternoon in summer, Frank Costello jumped into his little
boat, and pulling her out of the narrow creek where she lay moored,
crept along the iron-bound shore until he reached the entrance of one of
those deep sea-caves, so common upon the western coast of Ireland. To
the gloomy recesses of these natural caverns, millions of sea-fowl
resort during the breeding season; and it was among the feathered tribes
then congregated in the "Puffin Cave," that Frank meant, on that
evening, to deal death and destruction. Gliding, with lightly-dipping
oars, into the yawning chasm, he stepped nimbly from his boat, and
making the painter fast to a projecting rock, he lighted a torch, and,
armed only with a stout cudgel, penetrated into the innermost recesses
of the cavern. There he found a vast quantity of birds and eggs, and
soon became so engrossed with his sport that he paid no attention to the
lapse of time, until the hollow sound of rushing waters behind him made
him aware that the tide, which was ebbing when he entered the cave, had
turned, and was now rising rapidly. His first impulse was to return to
the spot where he had made his boat fast; but how was he horrified on
perceiving that the rock to which it had been secured was now completely
covered with water. He might, however, still have reached it by
swimming; but, unfortunately, the painter, by which it was attached to
the rock, not having sufficient scope, the boat, on the rising of the
tide, was drawn, stern down, to a level with the water; and Frank, as he
beheld her slowly fill and disappear beneath the waves, felt as if the
last link between the living world and himself had been broken. To go
forward was impossible; and he well knew that there was no way of
retreating from the cave, which, in a few hours, would be filled by the
advancing tide. His heart died within him, as the thought of the horrid
fate which awaited him flashed across his mind. He was not a man who
feared to face death; by flood or field, on the stormy sea and the dizzy
cliff, he had dared it a thousand times with perfect unconcern; but to
meet the grim tyrant there, alone, to struggle hopelessly with him for
life in that dreary tomb, was more than his fortitude could bear. He
shrieked aloud in the agony of despair--the torch fell from his
trembling hand into the dark waters that gurgled at his feet, and,
flashing for a moment upon their inky surface, expired with a hissing
sound, that fell like a death-warning upon his ear. The wind, which had
been scarcely felt during the day, began to rise with the flowing of the
tide, and now drove the tumultuous waves with hoarse and hideous clamor
into the cavern. Every moment increased the violence of the gale that
howled and bellowed as it swept around the echoing roof of that
rock-ribbed prison; while the hoarse dash of the approaching waves, and
the shrill screams of the sea-birds that filled the cavern, formed a
concert of terrible dissonance, well suited for the requiem, of the
hapless wretch who had been enclosed in that living grave! But the love
of life, which makes us cling to it in the most hopeless extremity, was
strong in Frank Costello's breast; his firmness and presence of mind
gradually returned, and he resolved not to perish without a struggle. He
remembered that, at the farther extremity of the cavern, the rock rose
like a flight of rude stairs, sloping from the floor to the roof; he had
often clambered up those rugged steps, and he knew that, by means of
them, he could place himself at an elevation above the reach of the
highest tide. But the hope thus suggested was quickly damped when he
reflected that a deep fissure, which ran perpendicularly through the
rock, formed a chasm ten feet in width, in the floor of the cavern,
between him and his place of refuge. The tide, however, which was now
rising rapidly, compelled him to retire every instant, further into the
cavern, and he felt that the only chance he had left him for life was to
endeavor to cross the chasm. He was young, active, and possessed of
uncommon courage, and he had frequently, by torch-light, leaped across
the abyss, in the presence of his companions, few of whom dared to
follow his example. But now, alone and in utter darkness, how was he to
attempt such a perilous feat? The conviction that death was inevitable
if he remained where he was, decided him. Collecting a handful of loose
pebbles from one of the numerous channels in the floor, he proceeded
cautiously over the slippery rocks, throwing at every step a pebble
before him, to ascertain the security of his footing. At length he heard
the stone, as it fell from his fingers, descend with a hollow,
clattering noise, that continued for several seconds. He knew he was
standing on the brink of the chasm. One quick and earnest prayer he
breathed to the invisible Power, whose hand could protect him in that
dread moment--then, retiring a single pace, and screwing every nerve and
muscle in his body to the utmost tension, he made a step in advance, and
threw himself forward into the dark and fearful void. Who can tell the
whirlwind of thought that rushed through his brain in the brief moment
that he hung above that yawning gulf? Should he have miscalculated his
distance, or chosen a place where the cleft was widest--should his
footing fail, or his strength be unequal to carry him over, what a death
were his! Dashed down that horrible abyss--crashing from rock to rock,
until he lay at the bottom a mutilated corpse. The agony of years was
crowded into one moment--in the next, his feet struck against the firm
rock on the opposite side of the chasm, and he was saved. At least, he
felt that he had for the moment escaped the imminent peril in which he
was placed, and, as he clambered joyfully up the rugged slope at the end
of the cave, he thought little of the dangers he had still to encounter.
All through that long night he sat on the narrow ledge of a rock, while
the angry waves thundered beneath, and cast their cold spray every
instant over him. With the ebbing of the tide, the sea receded from the
cavern; but Frank hesitated to attempt crossing the chasm again; his
limbs had become stiff and benumbed, and his long abstinence had so
weakened his powers that he shrank from the dangerous enterprise. While
giving way to the most desponding reflections, a stentorian hilloa rang
and echoed through the cavern; and never had the human voice sounded so
sweetly in his ear. He replied to it with a thrilling shout of joy, and,
in a few minutes, several persons with torches appeared advancing. A
plank was speedily thrust across the fissure, and Frank Costello once
more found himself amid a group of his friends, who were warmly
congratulating him upon his miraculous escape. They told him that, from
his not having returned home the preceding night, it was generally
concluded that he had been drowned, and a party of his neighbors
proceeded in a boat, early in the morning, in search of his body. On
reaching "Puffin Hole," they discovered his boat fastened to a rock, and
full of water, as she had remained on the ebbing of the tide. This
circumstance induced them to examine the cavern narrowly, and the happy
result of their search is already known.



ADVENTURE WITH A COBRA DI CAPELLO

I might have slept some four or five hours, and a dreamless and
satisfying sleep it was; but certain it is--let scholiasts say what they
will, and skeptics throw doubts by handfulls on the assertions of
metaphysicians--that, before I awoke, and in my dreamless slumber, I had
a visible perception of peril--a consciousness of the hovering presence
of death! How to describe my feelings I know not; but, as we have all
read and heard that, if the eyes of a watcher are steadily fixed on the
countenance of a sleeper for a certain length of time, the slumberer
will be sure to start up--wakened by the mysterious magnetism of a
recondite principle of clairvoyance; so it was that, with shut eyes and
drowsed-up senses, an inward ability was conferred upon me to detect the
living from the presence of danger near me--to see, though sleep-blind,
the formless shape of a mysterious horror crouching beside me; and, as
if the peril that was my nightmate was of a nature to be quickened into
fatal activity by any motion on my part, I felt in my very stupor the
critical necessity of lying quite still; so that, when I at last awoke
and felt that as I lay with my face toward the roof, there was a thick,
heavy, cold, creeping thing upon my chest, I stirred not, nor uttered a
word of panic. Danger and fear may occasionally dull the sense and
paralyse the faculties, but they more frequently sharpen both, and ere I
could wink my eye, I was broad awake and aware that, coiling and coiling
itself up into a circle of twists, an enormous serpent was on my breast.
When I tell you that the whole of my chest, and even the pit of my
stomach, were covered with the cold, scaly proportions of the reptile,
you will own that it must have been one of considerable size.

What my thoughts were--so made up of abhorrence, dread, and the
expectation--nay, assurance of speedy death, that must follow any
movement on my part--I can never hope to tell in language sufficiently
distinct and vivid to convey their full force. It was evident the
loathsome creature had at length settled itself to sleep; and I felt
thankful that, attracted by my breath, it had not approached the upper
part of my throat. It became quite still, and its weighty pressure--its
first clammy chillness becoming gradually (so it seemed to me) of a
burning heat--and the odious, indescribable odor which exhaled from its
body and pervaded the whole air--so overwhelmed me, that it was only by
a severe struggle I preserved myself from shrieking. As it was, a cold
sweat burst from every pore. I could hear the beating of my heart--and I
felt, to my increased dismay, that the palsy of terror had began to
agitate my limbs! "It will wake," thought I, "and then all is over!" At
this juncture, something--it might have been a wall-lizard, or a large
beetle--fell from the ceiling upon my left arm, which lay stretched at
my side. The snake, uncoiling its head, raised itself, with a low hiss,
and then, for the first time, I saw it,--saw the hood, the terrible
crest glistening in the moonshine. It was a Cobra di Capello! Shading my
eyes to exclude the dreadful spectacle, I lay almost fainting, until
again all was quiet. Had its fiery glances encountered mine, all would
have been over; but, apparently, it was once more asleep, and presently
I heard the Lascar moving about, undoing the fastenings of the tent, and
striking a light. A thought suddenly struck me, and, with an impulse I
could then ascribe to nothing short of desperation, though its effects
were so providential, I uttered, in a loud, but sepulchral tone,
"Kulassi! Lascar." "Sahib!" was the instantaneous response, and my
heart beat quicker at the success of my attempt. I lay still again, for
the reptile, evidently roused, made a movement, and its head, as I
suppose, fell on my naked arm. Oh God! the agony of that moment, when
suppressed tremor almost gave way to madness! I debated with myself
whether I should again endeavor to attract the attention of the Kulassi,
or remain perfectly quiet; or whether it would not be better than either
to start up at once and shake the disgustful burden from me. But the
latter suggestion was at once abandoned, because of the assurance I felt
that it would prove fatal; impeded by the heavy coils of the creature,
weak and nerveless from excitement, I could not escape its fangs. Again,
therefore, I spoke with the hollow but distinct accents which arise from
the throat when the speaker is afraid to move a muscle:--"Kulassi
Chiragh!"--Lascar, a lanthorn! "Latah own Sahib." I am bringing it, sir.
There was then a sound of clanking metal--light, advancing, flashes
across the roof of the veranda--and, at the noise of coming steps, lo!
one after one its terrible coils unwinding, the grisly monster glided
away from my body; and the last sounds that struck my sense of hearing
were the--"Ya illahi samp!" Oh God! a snake!--of the lascar; for I
fainted away for the first time in my life.

[Illustration]



COMBAT OF WILD ANIMALS.

We were conducted to a gallery which commanded a view of a narrow court
or area beneath, inclosed by walls and palisades. This was the arena in
which the spectacle was to take place. Unfortunately, the space allotted
to spectators was so narrowed by the great number of European ladies who
were present, that we could only find indifferent standing room, where,
in addition to this inconvenience, the glare of the sun was very
oppressively felt; but the drama which began to be acted in our sight in
the deep space below, was such that every discomfort was forgotten in
beholding it. We there beheld six mighty buffaloes, not of the tame
species, but the sturdy offspring of the Arni-buffalo of the hill
country, at least four feet and a half high from the ground to the
withers, with enormous widely-spread horns, several feet long. There
they stood, on their short, clumsy hoofs, and, snorting violently, blew
out their angry breath from their protruded muzzles, as if they were
already aware of the nearly approaching danger. What terribly powerful
brutes! what vast strength in their broad and brawny necks! It would
have been a noble sight, had not their eyes the while expressed such
entire stupidity.

A rattling of sticks, and the cries of several kind? of bestial voices
were heard--to which the buffaloes replied with a deep bellowing. On a
sudden, from an opened side door, there darted forth a huge tiger,
certainly from ten to eleven feet in length, and four in height. Without
much hesitation, he sprang with a single long bound right amid the
buffaloes; one of which, winding his body out of the reach of the
formidable horns, he seized by the neck with both claws and teeth at
once. The weight of the tiger almost overthrew the buffalo. A hideous
combat now took place. Groaning and bellowing, the buffalo dragged his
powerful assailant up and down the arena; while the others, with their
heavy, pointed horns, dealt the tiger fearful gashes, to liberate their
fellow beast. A deep stillness reigned among the public; all the
spectators awaited with eager suspense the issue of this contest between
the tiger and the buffaloes; as well as the fate of some unfortunate
asses, which latter, to increase the sport, being made perforce
witnesses of the sanguinary action, at first looked down upon it from
their poles with inexpressible horror, and afterward, when their
supports were shaken by the butting of the buffaloes, fell to the
ground as if dead, and, with outstretched limbs, lay, expecting their
fate with the greatest resignation--without making a single effort to
save themselves. Two other tigers, of somewhat less stature, were now,
with great difficulty, driven in; while the main struggle was still
going forward. But no efforts could induce them to attempt an attack of
any kind; they shrank down like cats, crouching as closely as possible
to the walls of the inclosure, whenever the buffaloes, who still
continued, however, to butt at their enemy with the utmost desperation,
approached them. The great tiger had, at last, received a push in the
ribs, which lifted him from his seat. He came tumbling down, and crawled
like a craven into a corner; whither he was pursued by the buffalo,
maddened by the pain of his lacerated neck--and there had to endure many
thrusts with his horns, at each of which he only drew up his mouth with
a grimace of pain, without making the smallest motion to ward off
the attack.

The spectacle was by no means ended here. Other combatants were driven
in, and fought with more or less energy.



PERILOUS INCIDENT

ON A CANADIAN RIVER.

A young man and his sister have kept this ferry several years, during
which they have performed many acts of heroic benevolence, and have
rescued numbers of their fellow creatures from a watery grave. One of
these had so much of perilous adventure in it, that I shall make no
apology for giving some account of it, the more especially as I was
myself one of the trembling and anxious spectators of the whole scene.

A raft of timber, on its way down the river to the nearest port, was
dashed to pieces by the violence of the rapids. There was the usual
number of men upon it, all of whom, except two, were fortunate enough to
get upon a few logs, which kept together, and were comparatively safe,
while their two poor comrades, were helplessly contending with the
tumbling waves, almost within reach of them, but without their being
able to afford them the slightest assistance. After a minute or two, and
when one more would have been their last, a long oar or sweep,
belonging to the wretched raft, came floating by. They instantly seized
it, and held on till they were carried down more than a mile, loudly
calling for help as they went along; but what aid could we render them?
No craft, none, at least, which were on the banks of the river, could
live in such a boiling torrent as that; for it was during one of the
high spring freshets. But the ferryman was of a different opinion, and
could not brook the thought of their dying before his eyes without his
making a single effort to save them. "How could I stand idly looking
on," he said to me afterward, "with a tough ash oar in my hand, and a
tight little craft at my feet, and hear their cries for help, and see
them drowned?" He determined, at all risks, to try to rescue them from
the fate which seemed to us inevitable. He could not, however, go alone,
and there was not another man on that side of the river within half a
mile of him. His sister knew this, and, courageously, like another Grace
Darling, proposed, at once, to accompany him in his perilous adventure.
From being so often on the water with her brother, she knew well how to
handle an oar. Often, indeed, without him she had paddled a passenger
across the ferry in her little canoe. He accepted her proposal, and we
had the satisfaction of seeing the light punt put off from the shore
opposite to that from which we were idly and uselessly looking on, and
go gallantly over the surging torrent toward the sinking men. We feared,
however, that it would not be in time to save them, as their cries for
help grew fainter and fainter, till each one, we thought, would have
been their last. We saw that the oar, with the drowning men clinging to
it, was floating rapidly down the middle of the stream, which, in this
particular locality, is more than a quarter of a mile in breadth, and
would inevitably, in two or three minutes more, be in the white water
among the breakers, when their fate must be sealed, and the boat, if it
followed, dashed to pieces among the rocks. This was the principal point
of danger, and they had to run down within a most fearful proximity of
it, to cross the course down which the drowning men were drifting, and,
as they did so, to seize hold of them without losing their own headway;
for there was not time for that. They succeeded in shooting athwart the
current, rapid as it was, just below the men. With breathless and
painful anxiety we saw them execute this dangerous manoeuver. We saw the
ferryman lean over the side of his boat, for a moment, as it passed
them, while his sister backed water with her oar.

"They are saved!" some one said, close behind me, in a whisper so deep
and earnest that I started, and turned to look at the speaker; when
another, who heard him, exclaimed, "No, no! they are gone! they are
lost! the boat has left them!" And sure enough, it had. But, in an
instant afterward, just as we thought they were about to be driven into
the fatal breakers, they turned, to our inexpressible delight, as if
drawn by some invisible power (the rope the ferryman had attached to the
oar was, indeed, invisible to us,) and followed the boat.

The ferryman and his sister had yet to pull a fearful distance for the
time they had to do it in, to get out of that part of the current
leading to the breakers: and they accomplished it. The man had the bow
oar, and we could see the tough ash bend like a willow-wand as he
stretched out to keep the head of the boat partially up the stream. His
sister, too, "kept her own," and the little punt shot out rapidly into
the comparatively quiet stream, beyond the influence of the fearful
current, which was rapidly driving them upon the breakers. When this was
accomplished, our fears for the noble-hearted brother and sister were at
an end, and we took a long breath; it was, indeed, a relief to do so.
Still we continued to watch their further proceedings with the
deepest interest.

The moment they got into a less rapid current, which, they knew, led
into comparatively still water they ceased rowing, and allowed the punt
to float down with it. The young ferryman now drew up the sweep
alongside, and succeeded in getting the two unfortunate men into his
boat. While he was doing this, his sister went aft, and used her oar as
a rudder to steer the boat. At the foot of the current, which they soon
afterward reached, there was no further danger. But we watched them
still; and we saw them row ashore, on their own side of the river. One
of the poor fellows was so much exhausted, that the ferryman had to
carry him on his back to the nearest house, where he soon recovered.

Twelve months after this took place, I had the satisfaction of
presenting to this worthy ferryman, in the presence of above five
hundred men, a beautiful silver medallion, sent out to me by the Royal
Humane Society--to which I had transmitted an account of the occurrence.
Nor was the heroine of my story forgotten. A similar medallion was given
to him for his sister. She could not, with propriety, be present
herself, as it was the annual muster-day of the militia in
that locality.

MEMOIRS OF A CHURCH MISSIONARY IN CANADA.



A WHALE CHASE.

Down went the boats with a splash. Each boat's crew sprang over the
rail, and in an instant the larboard, starboard, and waist-boats were
manned. There was great rivalry in getting the start. The waist-boat got
off in pretty good time; and away went all three, dashing the water high
over their bows. Nothing could be more exciting than the chase. The
larboard boat, commanded by the mate, and the waist-boat, by the second
mate, were head and head. "Give way, my lads, give way!" shouted P----,
our headsman; "we gain on them; give way! A long, steady stroke! That's
the way to tell it!" "Ay, ay!" cried Tabor, our boat-steerer. "What do
you say, boys? Shall we lick 'em?" "Pull! pull like vengeance!" echoed
the crew; and we danced over the waves, scarcely seeming to touch them.
The chase was now truly soul-stirring. Sometimes the larboard, then the
starboard, then the waist-boat took the lead. It was a severe trial of
skill and muscle. After we had run two miles at this rate, the whales
turned flukes, going dead to windward. "Now for it, my lads!" cried
P----. "We'll have them the next rising. Now pile it on! a long, steady
pull! That's it! that's the way! Those whales belong to us. Don't give
out! Half an hour more, and they're our whales!" The other boats veered
off at either side of us, and continued the chase with renewed ardor. In
about half an hour we lay on our oars to look round for the whales.
"There she blows! right ahead!" shouted Tabor, fairly dancing with
delight. "There she blows--there she blows!" "Oh, Lord, boys, spring!"
cried P----. "Spring it is! What d'ye say, now, chummies? Shall we take
those whales?" To this general appeal, every man replied by putting his
weight on his oar, and exerting his utmost strength. The boat flew
through the water with incredible swiftness, scarcely rising to the
waves. A large bull whale lay about a quarter of a mile ahead of us,
lazily rolling in the trough of the sea. The larboard and starboard
boats were far to leeward of us, tugging hard to get a chance at the
other whales, which were now blowing in every direction. "Give way! give
way, my hearties!" cried P----, putting his weight against the aft oar.
"Do you love gin? A bottle of gin to the best man! Oh, pile it on, while
you have breath! pile it on!" "On with the beef, chummies! Smash every
oar! double 'em up or break 'em!" "Every devil's imp of you, pull! No
talking; lay back to it; now or never!"

On dashed the boat, cleaving its way through the rough sea, as if the
briny element were blue smoke. The whale, however, turned flukes before
we could reach him. When he appeared again above the surface of the
water, it was evident that he had milled while down, by which manoeuver
he gained on us nearly a mile. The chase was now almost hopeless, as he
was making to windward rapidly. A heavy black cloud was on the horizon,
portending an approaching squall, and the barque was fast fading from
sight. Still we were not to be baffled by discouraging circumstances of
this kind, and we braced our sinews for a grand and final effort. "Never
give up, my lads," said the headsman, in a cheering voice. "Mark my
words, we'll have the whale yet. Only think he's ours, and there's no
mistake about it, he will be ours. Now for a hard, steady pull! Give
way!" "Give way, sir! Give way all!" "There she blows! Oh, pull, my
lively lads! Only a mile off!" "There she blows!" The wind had by this
time increased almost to a gale, and the heavy, black clouds were
scattering over us far and wide. Part of the squall had passed off to
leeward, and entirely concealed the barque. Our situation was rather
unpleasant: in a rough sea, the other boats out of sight, and each
moment the wind increasing. We continued to strain every muscle till we
were hard upon the whale. Tabor sprang to the bow, and stood by with the
harpoon. "Softly, softly, my lads," said the headsman. "Ay, ay sir!"
"Hush-h-h! softly! Now's your time, Tabor!" Tabor let fly the harpoon,
and buried the iron. "Give him another!" "Stern all!" thundered P----.
"Stern all!" And, as we rapidly backed from the whale, he flung his
tremendous fluke high in the air, covering us with a cloud of spray. He
then sounded, making the line whiz as it passed through the chocks. When
he rose to the surface again, we hauled up, and the second mate stood
ready in the bow to dispatch him with lances. "Spouting blood!" said
Tabor, "he's a dead whale! he won't need much lancing." It was true
enough; for, before the officer could get within dart of him, he
commenced his dying struggles. The sea was crimsoned with his blood. By
the time we had reached him, he was belly up. We lay upon our oars a
moment, to witness his last throes, and when he turned his head toward
the sun, a loud, simultaneous cheer, burst from every lip.



LEOPARD HUNTING.

AND ADVENTURES WITH BUFFALOES AND LIONS.

Mr. Cumming has published a volume containing a record of his hunting
exploits in Africa, in the year 1848. The following interesting accounts
of adventures are from his work.

On the morning, says Mr. Cumming, I rode into camp, after unsuccessfully
following the spoor of a herd of elephants for two days, in a westerly
course. Having partaken of some refreshment, I saddled up two steeds and
rode down the bank of Ngotwani, with the Bushman, to seek for any game I
might find. After riding about a mile along the river's green bank, I
came suddenly upon an old male leopard, lying under the shade of a thorn
grove, and panting from the great heat. Although I was within sixty
yards of him, he had not heard the horse's tread. I thought he was a
lioness, and, dismounting, took a rest in my saddle on the Old Gray, and
sent a bullet into him. He sprang to his feet and ran half way down the
river's bank, and stood to look about him, when I sent a second bullet
into his person, and he disappeared over the bank. The ground being
very dangerous, I did not disturb him by following then, but I at once
sent Ruyter back to camp for the dogs. Presently he returned with Wolf
and Boxer, very much done up with the sun. I rode forward, and, on
looking over the bank, the leopard started up and sneaked off alongside
of the tall reeds, and was instantly out of sight. I fired a random shot
from the saddle to encourage the dogs, and shouted to them; they,
however, stood looking stupidly around, and would not take up his scent
at all. I led them over his spoor, again and again, but to no purpose;
the dogs seemed quite stupid, and yet they were Wolf and Boxer, my
two best.

At length I gave it up as a lost affair, and was riding down the river's
bank, when I heard Wolf give tongue behind me, and, galloping back,
found him at bay with the leopard, immediately beneath where I had fired
at him; he was very severely wounded, and had slipped down into the
river's bed and doubled back, whereby he had thrown out both the dogs
and myself. As I approached, he flew out upon Wolf and knocked him over,
and then, running up the bed of the river, took shelter in a thick bush:
Wolf, however, followed him, and at this moment my other dogs came up,
having heard the shot, and bayed him fiercely. He sprang out upon them,
and then crossed the river's bed, taking shelter beneath some large
tangled roots on the opposite bank. As he crossed the river, I put a
third bullet into him, firing from the saddle, and, as soon as he came
to bay, I gave him a fourth, which finished him. This leopard was a very
fine old male; in the conflict, the unfortunate Alert was wounded, as
usual, getting his face torn open; he was still going upon three legs,
with all his breast laid bare by the first water-buck.

In the evening I directed my Hottentots to watch a fine pool in the
river, and do their best, while I rode to a distant pool several miles
up the Ngotwani, reported as very good for game, to lie all night and
watch: my Totties, however, fearing "Tao," disobeyed me. On reaching the
water I was bound for, I found it very promising, and, having fastened
my two horses to a tree beneath the river's bank, I prepared a place of
concealment close by, and laid down for the night.

The river's banks on each side were clad with groves of shady thorn
trees. After I had lain some time, squadrons of buffaloes were heard
coming on, until the shady grove on the east bank of the water
immediately above me was alive with them. After some time the leaders
ventured down the river's bank to drink, and this was the signal for a
general rush into the large pool of water: they came on like a regiment
of cavalry at a gallop, making a mighty din, and obscuring the air with
a dense cloud of dust. At length I sent a ball into one of them, when
the most tremendous rush followed up the bank, where they all stood
still, listening attentively. I knew that the buffalo was severely
wounded, but did not hear him fall. Some time after, I fired at a
second, as they stood on the bank above me; this buffalo was also hard
hit, but did not then fall. A little after, I fired at a third on the
same spot; he ran forty yards, and, falling, groaned fearfully: this at
once brought on a number of the others to butt their dying comrade,
according to their benevolent custom. I then crept in toward them, and,
firing my fourth shot, a second buffalo ran forward a few yards, and,
falling, groaned as the last; her comrades, coming up, served her in the
same manner. A second time I crept in, and, firing a fifth shot, a third
buffalo ran forward, and fell close to her dying comrades: in a few
minutes all the other buffaloes made off, and the sound of teeth tearing
at the flesh was heard immediately.

I fancied it was the hyaenas, and fired a shot to scare them from the
flesh. All was still; and, being anxious to inspect the heads of the
buffaloes, I went boldly forward, taking the native who accompanied me,
along with me. We were within about five yards of the nearest buffalo,
when I observed a yellow mass lying alongside of him, and at the same
instant a lion gave a deep growl,--I thought it was all over with me.
The native shouted "Tao," and, springing away, instantly commenced
blowing shrilly through a charmed piece of bone which he wore on his
necklace. I retreated to the native, and we then knelt down. The lion
continued his meal, tearing away at the buffalo, and growling at his
wife and family, who, I found next day, by the spoor, had accompanied
him. Knowing that he would not molest me if I left him alone, I proposed
to the native to go to our hole and lie down, but he would not hear of
it, and entreated me to fire at the lion. I fired three different shots
where I thought I saw him, but without any effect; he would not so much
as for a moment cease munching my buffalo. I then proceeded to lie down,
and was soon asleep, the native keeping watch over our destinies. Some
time after midnight other lions were heard coming on from other airts,
and my old friend commenced roaring so loudly that the native thought it
proper to wake me.

The first old lion now wanted to drink, and held right away for the two
unfortunate steeds, roaring terribly. I felt rather alarmed for their
safety; but, trusting that the lion had had flesh enough for one night,
I lay still, and listened with an attentive ear. In a few minutes, to my
utter horror, I heard him spring upon one of the steeds with an angry
growl, and dash him to the earth; the steed gave a slight groan, and all
was still. I listened to hear the sound of teeth, but all continued
still. Soon after this "Tao," was once more heard to be munching the
buffalo. In a few minutes he came forward, and stood on the bank close
above us, and roared most terribly, walking up and down, as if
meditating some mischief. I now thought it high time to make a fire,
and, quickly collecting some dry reeds and little sticks, in half a
minute we had a cheerful blaze. The lion, which had not yet got our
wind, came forward at once to find out what the deuse was up; but, not
seeing to his entire satisfaction from the top of the bank, he was
proceeding to descend by a game-path into the river-bed within a few
yards of us. I happened at the very moment to go to this spot to fetch
more wood, and, being entirely concealed from the lion's view above by
the intervening high reeds, we actually met face to face! The first
notice I got was his sudden spring to one side, accompanied by repeated
angry growls, while I involuntarily made a convulsive spring backward,
at the same time giving a fearful shriek, such as I never before
remember uttering. I fancied, just as he growled, he was coming upon me.
We now heaped on more wood, and kept up a very strong fire until the day
dawned, the lions feasting beside us all the time, notwithstanding the
remonstrances of the little native, who, with a true Bechuana spirit,
lamenting the loss of so much good flesh, kept continually shouting and
pelting them with flaming brands.

The next morning, when it was clear, I arose and inspected the
buffaloes. The three that had fallen were fine old cows, and two of them
were partly consumed by the lions. The ground all around was packed flat
with their spoor; one particular spoor was nearly as large as that of a
borele. I then proceeded to inspect the steeds: the sand around them was
also covered with the lion's spoor. He had sprung upon the Old Gray, but
had done him no further injury than scratching his back through the
skin: perhaps the lion had been scared by the rheims, or on discovering
his spare condition, had preferred the buffalo.



HUNTING THE WHITE RHINOCEROS,

LION, BUFFALO, AND GIRAFFE.

Upon the 9th, says Mr. Cumming, it rained unceasingly throughout the
day, converting the rich soil on which we were encamped into one mass of
soft, sticky clay. In the forenoon, fearing the rain would continue so
as to render the valley (through which we must pass to gain the firmer
ground) impassible, I ordered my men to prepare to march, and leave the
tent with its contents standing, the point which I wished to gain being
distant only about five hundred yards. When the oxen were inspanned,
however, and we attempted to move, we found my tackle, which was old, so
rotten from the effects of the rain, that something gave way at every
strain. Owing to this and to the softness of the valley, we labored on
till sundown, and only succeeded in bringing one wagon to its
destination, the other two remained fast in the mud in the middle of the
valley. Next morning, luckily, the weather cleared up, when my men
brought over the tent, and in the afternoon the other two wagons.

We followed up the banks of the river for several days, with the usual
allowance of sport. On the 16th we came suddenly upon an immense old
bull muchocho rolling in mud. He sprang to his feet immediately he saw
me, and, charging up the bank, so frightened our horses, that before I
could get my rifle from my after-rider he was past us. I then gave him
chase, and, after a hard gallop of about a mile, sprang from my horse
and gave him a good shot behind the shoulder. At this moment a cow
rhinoceros of the same species, with her calf, charged out of some
wait-a-bit thorn cover, and stood right in my path. Observing that she
carried an unusually long horn, I turned my attention from the bull to
her, and, after a very long and severe chase, dropped her at the sixth
shot. I carried one of my rifles, which gave me much trouble, that not
being the tool required for this sort of work, where quick loading is
indispensable.

After breakfast I sent men to cut off the head of this rhinoceros, and
proceeded with Ruyter to take up the spoor of the bull wounded in the
morning. We found that he was very severely hit, and having followed the
spoor for about a mile through very dense thorn cover, he suddenly
rustled out of the bushes close ahead of us, accompanied by a whole host
of rhinoceros birds. I mounted my horse and gave him chase, and in a
few minutes he had received four severe shots. I managed to turn his
course toward camp, when I ceased firing, as he seemed to be nearly done
up, and Ruyter and I rode slowly behind, occasionally shouting to guide
his course. Presently, however, Chukuroo ceased taking any notice of us,
and held leisurely on for the river, into a shallow part of which he
walked, and, after panting there and turning about for a quarter of an
hour, he fell over and expired. This was a remarkably fine old bull, and
from his dentition it was not improbable that a hundred summers had seen
him roaming a peaceful denizen of the forests and open glades along the
fair banks of the secluded Mariqua.

During our march, on the 19th, we had to cross a range of very rocky
hills, covered with large loose stones, and all hands were required to
be actively employed for about an hour, in clearing them out of the way,
to permit the wagons to pass. The work went on fast and furious, and the
quantity of stones cleared was immense. At length we reached the spot
where we were obliged to bid adieu to the Mariqua, and hold a westerly
course across the country for Sicheley. At sundown we halted under a
lofty mountain, the highest in the district, called "Lynchie a Cheny,"
or the Monkey's Mountain.

Next day, at an early hour, I rode out with Ruyter to hunt, my camp
being entirely without flesh, and we having been rationed upon very
tough old rhinoceros for several days past. It was a cloudy morning, and
soon after starting, it came on to rain heavily. I, however, held on,
skirting a fine, well-wooded range of mountains, and after riding
several miles I shot a zebra. Having covered the carcass well over with
branches to protect it from the vultures, I returned to camp, and,
inspanning my wagons, took it up on the march. We continued trekking on
until sundown, when we started an immense herd of buffaloes, into which
I stalked, and shot a huge old bull.

Our march this evening was through the most beautiful country I had ever
seen in Africa. We skirted an endless range of well-wooded stony
mountains lying on our left, while to our right the country at first
sloped gently off, and then stretched away into a level green forest,
(occasionally interspersed with open glades,) boundless as the ocean.
This green forest was, however, relieved in one direction by a chain of
excessively bold, detached, well-wooded, rocky, pyramidal mountains,
which stood forth in grand relief. In advance the picture was bounded by
forest and mountain; one bold acclivity, in shape of a dome, standing
prominent among its fellows. It was a lovely evening: the sky, overcast
and gloomy, threw an interesting, wild, mysterious coloring over the
landscape. I gazed forth upon the romantic scene before me with intense
delight, and felt melancholy and sorrowful at passing so fleetingly
through it, and could not help shouting out, as I marched along, "Where
is the coward who would not dare to die for such a land?"

In the morning we held for a fountain some miles ahead, in a gorge in
the mountains. As we approached the fountain, and were passing close
under a steep, rocky, hillside, well wooded to its summit, I
unexpectedly beheld a lion stealing up the rocky face, and, halting
behind a tree, he stood overhauling us for some minutes. I resolved to
give him battle, and, seizing my rifle, marched against him, followed by
Carey carrying a spare gun, and by three men leading my dogs, now
reduced to eight. When we got close in to the base of the mountain, we
found ourselves enveloped in dense jungle, which extended half-way to
its summit, and entirely obscured from our eyes objects which were quite
apparent from the wagons, I slipped my dogs, however, which, after
snuffing about, took right up the steep face on the spoor of the lions,
for there was a troop of them--a lion and three lionesses.

The people at the wagons saw the chase in perfection. When the lions
observed the dogs coming on, they took right up, and three of them
crossed over the sky ridge. The dogs, however, turned one rattling old
lioness, which came rumbling down through the cover, close past me. I
ran to meet her, and she came to bay in an open spot near the base of
the mountain, whither I quickly followed, and coming up within thirty
yards, bowled her over with my first shot, which broke her back. My
second entered her shoulder; and, fearing that she might hurt any of the
dogs, as she still evinced signs of life, I finished her with a third in
the breast. The bellies of all the four lions were much distended by
some game they had been gorging, no doubt a buffalo, as a large herd
started out of the jungle immediately under the spot where the noble
beasts were first disturbed.

Showers of rain fell every hour throughout the day, so I employed my men
in making feldt-schoens, or, in other words, African brogues for me.
These shoes were worthy of a sportsman, being light, yet strong, and
were entirely composed of the skins of game of my shooting. The soles
were made of either buffalo or cameleopard; the front part, perhaps, of
koodoo, or hartebeest, or bushbuck, and the back of the shoe of lion, or
hyaena, or sable antelope, while the rheimpy or thread with which the
whole was sewed, consisted of a thin strip of the skin of a steinbok.

On the forenoon of this day, I rode forth to hunt, accompanied by
Ruyter; we held west, skirting the wooded, stony mountains. The natives
had here, many years before, waged successful war with elephants, four
of whose skulls I found. Presently I came across two sassaybies, one of
which I knocked over; but, while I was loading, he regained his legs and
made off. We crossed a level stretch of forest, holding a northerly
course for an opposite range of green, well-wooded hills and valleys.
Here I came upon a troop of six fine, old bull buffaloes, into which I
stalked, and wounded one princely fellow very severely, behind the
shoulder, bringing blood from his mouth; he, however, made off with his
comrades, and, the ground being very rough, we failed to overtake him.
They held for Ngotwani. After following the spoor for a couple of miles,
we dropped it, as it led right away from camp.

Returning from this chase, we had an adventure with another old bull
buffalo, which shows the extreme danger of hunting buffaloes without
dogs. We started him in a green hollow, among the hills, and his course
inclining for camp. I gave him chase. He crossed the level, broad
strath, and made for the opposite densely-wooded range of mountains.
Along the base of these we followed him, sometimes in view, sometimes on
the spoor, keeping the old fellow at a pace which made him pant. At
length, finding himself much distressed, he had recourse to a singular
stratagem. Doubling round some thick bushes, which obscured him from our
view, he found himself beside a small pool of rain-water, just deep
enough to cover his body; into this he walked, and, facing about, lay
gently down and awaited our on-coming, with nothing but his old, gray
face, and massive horns above the water, and these concealed from view
by the overhanging herbage.

[Illustration: CHARGE OF THE BUFFALO.]

Our attention was entirely engrossed with the spoor, and thus we rode
boldly on until within a few feet of him, when, springing to his feet,
he made a desperate charge after Ruyter, uttering a low, stifled roar,
peculiar to buffaloes, (somewhat similar to the growl of a lion,) and
hurled horse and rider to the earth with fearful violence. His horn laid
the poor horse's haunch open to the bone, making the most fearful rugged
wound. In an instant, Ruyter regained his feet and ran for his life,
which the buffalo observing, gave chase, but most fortunately came down,
with a tremendous somersault, in the mud, his feet slipping from under
him; thus the bushman escaped certain destruction. The buffalo rose
much discomfitted, and, the wounded horse first catching his eye, he
went a second time after him; but he got out of the way. At this moment,
I managed to send one of my patent pacificating pills into his shoulder,
when he instantly quitted the field of action, and sought shelter in a
dense cover on the mountain side, whither I deemed it imprudent to
follow him.



A LEOPARD HUNT.

The dense jungles of Bengal was the place of the leopard's resort, and
the havoc which it committed among the cattle was prodigious. It was
dreaded, far and near, on this account, by the natives, and they
scrupulously avoided their spotted enemy, knowing well that when his
appetite was whetted with hunger, he was not over scrupulous whether his
victims were beasts or men. On one occasion, the monster made a dash
upon a herd of beeves, and succeeded in carrying off a large ox; and
loud was the lament of the poor Hindoos that one of the sacred herd had
thus unceremoniously been assailed and slaughtered before their eyes. A
party of the Bengal native infantry, consisting of an officer and five
others, having been informed of the circumstance, followed in the
direction of the leopard's den determined, if possible, to punish him
for this and the many other depredations he had committed. Having come
to an intervening ravine, they were about to cross it, when they saw the
object of their search on the opposite side. There he was, lying in his
lair, heedless of danger, and luxuriously feasting on the carcass of his
captive. It was the monster's last meal, however. The party approached
with stealthy steps, as near as they could without crossing the defile.
"Take your aim! fire!" cried the captain, in Hindostanee, we suppose.
They did so, and four balls pierced the leopard, three in the neck and
one in a more dangerous place, through the brain. Startled by this
unpleasant salute, the animal rose, gazed with glaring eyes on its
enemies, at the same time pawing the earth in its pain fury.

The sepoys were astonished that he did not roll lifeless at their feet;
but, instead of this, before they had time to reload, the creature,
after uttering a terrific cry, sprang across the ravine and seized one
of its assailants. It must have been, in some degree, weakened by its
wounds; but its strength was yet great, for the man seemed to have no
power of resistance to its attack. The leopard, having a hold of the
sepoy in its mouth, darted off in the direction of a jungle close at
hand, the other soldiers following up as fast as they could, but not
daring to fire, lest they should injure their luckless comrade Sometimes
they lost sight of the leopard and its bleeding burden; but the blood
marks on the grass or on the sand enabled them to regain the trail, and
to carry on the pursuit. The animal at length came to a small river; it
hesitated for a little on the brink, and then leaped in, still
tenaciously retaining its prey. The stoppage thus occasioned enabled the
pursuers to gain ground, and, just after the leopard had emerged from
the river, and was shaking its skin free from the watery drops, one of
the party seized the auspicious moment, and fired. The beast dropped its
prey at once, howled furiously, and then fell dead. To their great
surprise and joy, the soldiers found that their comrade was still in
life, though he had fainted from fear and from weakness occasioned by
the loss of blood. He gradually recovered, and, under the stimulating
influence of a cup of brandy, was able to proceed home with his
comrades. It was many weeks, however, before he was fit for service, and
he will retain till his dying day the dental marks received from the
leopard, by way of token what it would like to have done with him had
there been none but themselves two on the desert wide.

The soldiers returned, some time after, and skinned the animal, carrying
home its spotted covering for a trophy; and now, here it is, with the
marks of the musket-balls upon it, remembrances of the strange story we
have now recounted.



LIFE IN CALIFORNIA.

Every man, both honest and dishonest, in California, has his own
horse--as a very good-looking, active one can be purchased, tamed to
carry the saddle and rider, from the Indians, for four or five dollars;
so that every one, I may add, of both sexes, ride in California. No one
walks far but the hunter, and he is carried in canoe a long way up the
river before he strikes into the forest after the animals he is in
pursuit of. This last class of men are the most wild, daring, yet
friendly and honest, of the lower class of the white population of
California. Well: as the robber as well as the honest man are equally
mounted, sometimes a very interesting steeple chase ensues,--ground
rough, not being previously chosen, occasionally leaping over pools of
water, large stones, and fallen trees. The Indians who use the lasso,
generally keep the lead, to strive to throw the noose over either the
man or horse they are pursuing. It is made of thongs of bullock-hide
twisted into a small rope about thirty or forty feet long, with a noose
formed by a running knot at the end of it. One end of the lasso is
fastened to the back of the saddle: the entire length of it is kept in a
coil on the right hand, and after two or three swings of it over their
heads, they will throw it with such accuracy that the smallest object
will come within the noose. Thus, then, if an equestrian traveler does
not keep a good look-out as he is passing by a bush or thicket, one of
these lassoes may be thrown out; the noose, falling over his head, will
be jerked tight round his body, and, in the twinkling of an eye, he will
be dragged off his horse, and away into the bush, to be stripped of
everything he has. By all the accounts I have heard, and from what I
have seen, the robbers of California are the most active in the world:
the end of the dangerous lasso being firmly fastened to the saddle,
enables the rider, as soon as his victim, either man or animal, is
noosed, to wheel round his horse, and dash off like an Arab, dragging
whatever he has fast after him. There is one method of averting the
fall of the lasso noose over the body of a man, either on foot or
horseback. If he holds, as he always ought, either sword or gun in his
right hand, when he sees the lasso coming, let him instantly raise
either and his arm in a horizontal position, and if the noose does fall
true, it cannot run farther down, being stopped by sword, gun, or
extended arm; then fling it off quick, or it may be jerked tight round
the neck. I have known this subterfuge save many a man from robbers and
perhaps murderers.

I once hunted for three months in company with a hunter well known in
California. In idea, he was wild and imaginative in the extreme; but, in
his acts of daring, &c., the most cool and philosophic fellow I ever
knew. A commercianto, or merchant, at San Francisco, on whose veracity I
know from experience I can depend, told me the following story of this
man, which will at once illustrate his general character. This hunter
was, some months before I had fallen in with him, making the best of his
way down the valley of the Tule Lakes from the interior, with a heavy
pack of furs on his back, his never-erring rifle in his hand, and his
two dogs by his side. He was joined at the northermost end of the valley
by the merchant I had spoken of, who was armed only with sword and
pistols. They had scarcely cleared the valley, when a party of robbers
galloped out before them. There were four whites, fully armed, and two
Indians with the lassos coiled up in their right hands, ready for a
throw. The hunter told the merchant, who was on horseback, to dismount
instantly, "and to cover." Fortunately for them, there was a good deal
of thicket, and trunks of large trees that had fallen were strewed about
in a very desirable manner. Behind these logs the merchant and the
hunter quickly took up their position, and as they were in the act of
doing so, two or three shots were fired after them without effect. The
hunter coolly untied the pack of furs from his back, and laid them
beside him. "It's my opinion, merchant," said he, "that them varmint
there wants either your saddle-bags or my pack, but I reckon they'll get
neither." So he took up his rifle, fired, and the foremost Indian, lasso
in hand, rolled off his horse. Another discharge from the rifle, and the
second Indian fell, while in the act of throwing his lasso at the head
and shoulders of the hunter, as he raised himself from behind the log to
fire. "Now," said the hunter, as he reloaded, laying on his back to
avoid the shots of the robbers, "that's what I call the best of the
scrimmage, to get them brown thieves with their lassoes out of the way
first. See them rascally whites now jumping over the logs to charge us
in our cover." They were fast advancing, when the rifle again spoke out,
and the foremost fell; they still came on to within about thirty yards,
when another fell; and the remaining two made a desperate charge up
close to the log. The hunter, from long practice, was dexterous in
reloading his gun. "Now, merchant," said he, "is the time for your
pop-guns, (meaning the pistols,) and don't be at all narvous, keep a
steady hand, and drop either man or horse. A man of them shan't escape."
The two remaining robbers were now up with the log, and fired each a
pistol-shot at the hunter, which he escaped by dodging behind a tree
close to, from which he fired with effect. As only one robber was left,
he wheeled round his horse with the intention of galloping off, when the
pistol-bullets of the merchant shot the horse from under him. "Well
done, merchant," said the hunter, "you've stopped that fellow's galop."
As soon as the robber could disentangle himself from the fallen horse,
he took to his heels and ran down a sloping ground as fast as he could.
The hunter drew his tomahawk from his belt, and gave chase after him. As
he was more of an equestrian than a pedestrian, the nimbleness of the
hunter soon shortened the distance between them, and the last of the
robbers fell. Thus perished this dangerous gang of six, by the single
hand of this brave hunter, and, as the "commercianto" informed me, he
acted as coolly and deliberately as if he were shooting tame bullocks
for the market. The affair was rather advantageous to the hunter, for,
on searching the saddle-bags and pockets of the robbers, he pulled forth
some doubloons, and a few dollars, with other valuables they had, no
doubt, a short time previously, taken from some traveler; the
saddle-bags, arms, and accouterments of the four white men, were packed
up, made fast on the saddles of the two horses, and the hunter mounted a
third, the merchant mounted another, his horse being shot, and thus they
left the scene of action, the bodies of the robbers to the wolves, who
were howling about them, and entered San Francisco in triumph.



A STORM AMONG THE ICEBERGS.

To prevent the ships separating during the fog, it was necessary to keep
fast to the heavy piece of ice which we had between them as a fender,
and with a reduced amount of sail on them, we made some way through the
pack: as we advanced in this novel mode to the south-west, we found the
ice became more open, and the westerly swell increasing as the wind
veered to the northwest, at midnight, we found it impossible any longer
to hold on by the floe piece. All our hawsers breaking in succession, we
made sail on the ships, and kept company, during the thick fog, by
firing guns, and by means of the usual signals: under the shelter of a
berg of nearly a mile in diameter, we dodged about during the whole day,
waiting for clear weather, that we might select the best lead through
the dispersing pack; but at nine P.M. the wind suddenly freshened to a
violent gale from the northward, compelling us to reduce our sails to a
close-reefed main-topsail and storm-staysails: the sea quickly rising
to a fearful height, breaking over the loftiest bergs, we were unable
any longer to hold our ground, but were driven into the heavy pack under
our lee. Soon after midnight, our ships were involved in an ocean of
rolling fragments of ice, hard as floating rocks of granite, which were
dashed against them by the waves with so much violence, that their masts
quivered as if they would fall, at every successive blow; and the
destruction of the ships seemed inevitable from the tremendous shocks
they received. By backing and filling the sails, we endeavored to avoid
collision with the larger masses; but this was not always possible: in
the early part of the storm, the rudder of the Erebus was so much
damaged as to be no longer of any use; and about the same time, I was
informed by signal that the Terror's was completely destroyed, and
nearly torn away from the stern-post. We had hoped that, as we drifted
deeper into the pack, we should get beyond the reach of the tempest; but
in this we were mistaken. Hour passed away after hour without the least
mitigation of the awful circumstances in which we were placed. Indeed,
there seemed to be but little probability of our ships holding together
much longer, so frequent and violent were the shocks they sustained. The
loud, crashing noise of the straining and working of the timbers and
decks, as she was driven against some of the heavier pieces, which all
the activity and exertions of our people could not prevent, was
sufficient to fill the stoutest heart, that was not supported by trust
in Him, who controls all events, with dismay.

At two P.M. the storm gained its height, when the barometer stood at
28.40 inches, and, after that time, began to rise. Although we had been
forced many miles deeper into the pack, we could not perceive that the
swell had at all subsided, our ships still rolling and groaning amid the
heavy fragments of crushing bergs, over which the ocean rolled its
mountainous waves, throwing huge masses one upon another, and then again
burying them deep beneath its foaming waters, dashing and grinding them
together with fearful violence. The awful grandeur of such a scene can
neither be imagined nor described, for less can the feelings of those
who witnessed it be understood. Each of us secured our hold, waiting the
issue with resignation to the will of Him who alone could preserve us,
and bring us safely through this extreme danger; watching with
breathless anxiety the effect of each succeeding collision, and the
vibrations of the tottering masts, expecting every moment to see them
give way, without our having the power to make an effort to save them.

Although the force of the wind had somewhat diminished by four o'clock,
yet the squalls came on with unabated violence, laying the ship over on
her broadside, and threatening to blow the storm-sails to pieces;
fortunately they were quite new, or they never could have withstood such
terrific gusts. At this time, the Terror was so close to us, that, when
she rose to the top of one wave, the Erebus was on the top of that next
to leeward of her; the deep chasm between them filled with heavy rolling
masses; and, as the ships descended into the hollow between the waves,
the main-topsail yard of each could be seen just level with the crest of
the intervening wave, from the deck of the other: from this, some idea
may be formed of the height of the waves, as well as of the perilous
situation of our ships. The night now began to draw on, and cast its
gloomy mantle over the appalling scene, rendering our condition, if
possible, more hopeless and helpless than before; but, at midnight, the
snow, which had been falling thickly for several hours, cleared away, as
the wind suddenly shifted to the westward, and the swell began to
subside; and although the shocks our ships still sustained were such
that must have destroyed any ordinary vessel in less than five minutes,
yet they were feeble compared to those to which we had been exposed,
and our minds became more at ease for their ultimate safety.

During the darkness of night and the thick weather, we had been carried
through a chain of bergs which were seen in the morning considerably to
windward, and which served to keep off the heavy pressure of the pack,
so that we found the ice much more open, and I was enabled to make my
way, in one of our boats, to the Terror, about whose condition I was
most anxious--for I was aware that her damages were of a much more
serious nature than those of the Erebus, notwithstanding the skillful
and seaman-like manner in which she had been managed, and by which she
maintained her appointed station throughout the gale. I found that her
rudder was completely broken to pieces, and the fastenings to the
stern-post so much strained and twisted, that it would be difficult to
get the spare rudder, with which we were fortunately provided, fitted so
as to be useful, and could only be done, if at all, under very favorable
circumstances. The other damages she had sustained were of less
consequence; and it was as great a satisfaction as it has ever since
been a source of astonishment to us to find that, after so many hours of
constant and violent thumping, both the vessels were nearly as tight as
they were before the gale. We can only ascribe this to the admirable
manner in which they had been fortified for the service, and to our
having their holds so stowed as to form a solid mass throughout.



FALL OF THE ROSSBERG.

The summer of 1806 had been very rainy; and on the first and second of
September it rained incessantly. New crevices were observed in the flank
of the mountain; a sort of cracking noise was heard internally; stones
started out of the ground; detached fragments of rocks rolled down the
mountain. At two o'clock in the afternoon, on the 2d of September, a
large rock became loose, and in falling, raised a cloud of black dust.
Toward the lower part of the mountain, the ground seemed pressed down
from above; and, when a stick or a spade was driven in, it moved of
itself. A man who had been digging in his garden ran away, from fright
at these extraordinary appearances; soon a fissure, larger than all the
others, was observed; insensibly, it increased: springs of water ceased
all at once to flow, the pine trees of the forest absolutely reeled;
the birds flew away screaming. A few minutes before five o'clock, the
symptoms of some mighty catastrophe became still stronger; the whole
surface of the mountain seemed to glide down, but so slowly as to afford
time to the inhabitants to go away. An old man, who had often predicted
some such disaster, was quietly smoking his pipe; when told by a young
man running by, that the mountain was in the act of falling, he rose and
looked out, but came into his house again, saying he had time to fill
another pipe. The young man, continuing to fly, was thrown down several
times, and escaped with difficulty; looking back, he saw the house
carried off, all at once.

Another inhabitant, being alarmed, took two of his children, and ran
away with them, calling to his wife to follow with the third; but she
went in for another, who still remained, (Marianne, aged five;) just
then, Francisca Ulrich, their servant, was crossing the room with this
Marianne, whom she held by the hand, and saw her mistress; at that
instant, as Francisca afterward said, "the house appeared to be torn
from its foundation, (it was of wood,) and spun round and round like a
teetotum; I was sometimes on my head, and sometimes on my feet, in total
darkness, and violently separated from the child." When the motion
stopped, she found herself jammed in on all sides, with her head
downward, much bruised; and in extreme pain. She supposed she was buried
alive, at a great depth; with much difficulty, she disengaged her right
hand, and wiped the blood from her eyes. Presently, she heard the faint
moans of Marianne, and called her by her name; the child answered that
she was on her back, among stones and bushes, which held her fast, but
that her hands were free, and that she saw the light, and then something
green; she asked whether people would not come soon to take them out.

Francisca answered that it was the day of judgment, and that no one was
left to help them, but that they would be released by death, and be
happy in Heaven. They prayed together; at last Francisca's ear was
struck by the sound of a bell, which she knew to be that of Stenenberg;
then seven o'clock struck in another village, and she began to hope
there were still living beings, and endeavored to comfort the child; the
poor little girl was at first clamorous for her supper; but her cries
soon became fainter, and at last quite died away. Francisca, still with
her head downward, and surrounded with damp earth, experienced a sense
of cold in her feet almost insupportable; after prodigious efforts, she
succeeded in disengaging her legs, and thinks this saved her life. Many
hours had passed in this situation, when she again heard the voice of
Marianne, who had been asleep, and now renewed her lamentations. In the
meantime, the unfortunate father, who, with much difficulty, had saved
himself and two children, wandered about till daylight, when he came
among the ruins to look for the rest of his family; he soon discovered
his wife, by a foot which appeared above the ground; she was dead, with
a child in her arms. His cries, and the noise he made in digging, were
heard by Marianne, who called out. She was extricated, with a broken
thigh, and saying that Francisca was not far off, a farther search led
to her release also, but in such a state that her life was despaired of.
She was blind for some days, and remained subject to convulsive fits of
terror. It appeared that the house, or themselves, at least, had been
carried down about one thousand five hundred feet from where it
stood before.

In another place, a child two years old was found unhurt, lying on his
straw mattress upon the mud, without any vestige of the house from which
he had been separated. Such a mass of earth and stones rushed at once
into the lake of Sowertey, although five miles distant, that one end of
it was filled up, and a prodigious wave passing completely over the
island of Schwanau, seventy feet above the usual level of the water,
overwhelmed the opposite shore, and, as it returned, swept away into the
lake many houses with their inhabitants. The chapel of Olton, built of
wood, was found half a league from the place it had previously occupied,
and many large blocks of stone completely changed their position.

SIMOND'S SWITZERLAND.



THE RIFLEMAN OF CHIPPEWA.

At the time of the French and Indian wars, the American army was
encamped on the plains of Chippewa. Colonel St. Clair, the commander,
was a bold and meritorious officer; but there was mixed with his bravery
a large share of rashness or indiscretion. His rashness, in this case,
consisted in encamping on an open plain beside a thick wood, from which
an Indian scout could easily pick off his outposts, without being
exposed, in the least, to the fire of the sentinel.

Five nights had passed, and every night he had been surprised by the
disappearance of a sentry, who stood at a lonely post in the vicinity of
the forest. These repeated disasters had struck such a dread into the
breasts of the remaining soldiers, that no one would volunteer to take
the post, and the commander, knowing it would be throwing away their
lives, let it remain unoccupied several nights.

At length a rifleman of the Virginia corps, volunteered his services. He
was told the danger of the duty; but he laughed at the fears of his
comrades, saying he would return safe, to drink the health of his
commander in the morning. The guard marched up soon after, and he
shouldered his rifle, and fell in. He arrived at his bounds, and,
bidding his fellow-sentinels good-night, assumed the duties of his post.

The night was dark, from the thick clouds that overspread the firmament.
No star shone on the sentinel as he paced his lonely path, and naught
was heard but the mournful hoot of the owl, as she raised her nightly
wail from the withered branch of the venerable oak. At length, a low
rustling among the bushes on the right, caught his ear. He gazed long
toward the spot whence the sound seemed to proceed; but saw nothing,
save the impenetrable gloom of the thick forest which surrounded the
encampment. Then, as he marched onward, he heard the joyful cry of
"all's well," after which he seated himself upon a stump, and fell into
a reverie. While he thus sat, a savage entered the open space behind,
and, after buckling his tunic, with numerous folds, tight around his
body, drew over his head the skin of a wild boar, with the natural
appendages of those animals. Thus accoutred, he walked past the soldier,
who, seeing the object approach, quickly stood upon his guard. But a
well-known grunt eased his fears, and he suffered it to pass, it being
too dark for any one to discover the cheat. The beast, as it appeared to
be, quietly sought the thicket to the left; it was nearly out of sight,
when, through a sudden break in the clouds, the moon shone bright upon
it. The soldier then perceived the ornamented moccasin of an Indian,
and, quick as thought, prepared to fire. But, fearing lest he might be
mistaken, and thus needlessly alarm the camp, and also supposing, if he
were right, the other savages would be near at hand, he refrained, and
having a perfect knowledge of Indian subtlety and craft, quickly took
off his coat and cap, and, after hanging them on the stump where he had
reclined, secured his rifle, and softly groped his way toward the
thicket. He had barely reached it, when the whizzing of an arrow passed
his head, and told him of the danger he had escaped. Turning his eyes
toward a small spot of cleared land within the thicket, he perceived a
dozen of the same _animals_ sitting on their hind legs, instead of
feeding on the acorns, which, at this season, lay plentifully upon the
surface of the leaves; and, listening attentively, he heard them
conversing in the Iroquois tongue. The substance of their conversation
was, that, if the sentinel should not discover them, the next evening,
as soon as the moon should afford them sufficient light for their
operations, they would make an attack upon the American camp. They then
quitted their rendezvous, and soon their tall forms were lost in the
gloom of the forest. The soldier now returned to his post, and found the
arrow sunk deep in the stump, it having passed through the breast of
his coat.

He directly returned to the encampment, and desired the orderly at the
marquee to inform the commander of his wish to speak with him, having
information of importance of communicate. He was admitted, and, having
been heard, the colonel bestowed on him the vacant post of lieutenant of
the corps, and directed him to be ready, with a picket-guard, to march,
at eight o'clock in the evening, to the spot he had occupied the night
before, where he was to place his hat and coat upon the stump, and then
lie in ambush for the intruders. Accordingly, the party proceeded, and
obeyed the colonel's orders. The moon rose, but shone dimly through the
thick branches of the forest.

While the new lieutenant was waiting the result of his manoeuver, an
arrow whizzed from the same quarter as before. The mock soldier fell on
his face. A dozen subdued voices sounded from within the thicket, which
were soon followed by the sudden appearance of the Indians themselves.
They barely reached the stump, when our hero gave the order to fire, and
the whole band were stretched dead upon the plain. After stripping them
of their arms and trappings, the Americans returned to the camp.

Twelve chiefs fell at the destructive fire of the white men, and their
fall was, undoubtedly, one great cause of the French and Indian wars
with the English. The fortunate rifleman, who had originated and
conducted the ambuscade, returned from the war, at its termination, with
a competency. He was not again heard of, until the parent-country raised
her arm against the infant colonies. Then was seen, at the head of a
band of Virginia riflemen our hero as the brave and gallant
Colonel Morgan.

[Illustration: LOSS OF THE BLENDENHALL.]



SHIPWRECK OF THE BLENDENHALL.

In the year 1821, the Blendenhall, free trader, bound from England for
Bombay, partly laden with broadcloths, was proceeding on her voyage with
every prospect of a successful issue. While thus pursuing her way
through the Atlantic, she was unfortunately driven from her course, by
adverse winds and currents, more to the southward and westward than was
required, and it became desirable to reach the island of Tristan
d'Acunha, in order to ascertain and rectify the reckoning.

It was while steering to reach this group of islands, that, one morning
a passenger, on board the Blendenhall, who chanced to be up on deck
earlier than usual, observed great quantities of seaweed occasionally
floating alongside. This excited some alarm, and a man was immediately
sent aloft to keep a good look-out. The weather was then extremely hazy,
though moderate; the weeds continued; all were on the alert; they
shortened sail, and the boatswain piped for breakfast. In less than ten
minutes, "breakers ahead!" startled every soul, and in a moment all
were on deck. "Breakers starboard! breakers larboard! breakers all
around!" was the ominous cry a moment afterward, and all was confusion.
The words were scarcely uttered, when, and before the helm was up, the
ill-fated ship struck, and, after a few tremendous shocks against the
sunken reef, she parted about midship. Ropes and stays were cut
away--all rushed forward, as if instinctively, and had barely reached
the forecastle, when the stern and quarter-deck broke asunder with a
violent crash, and sunk to rise no more. Two of the seamen miserably
perished--the rest, including officers, passengers, and crew, held on
about the head and bows--the struggle was for life!

At this moment the Inaccessible Island, which till then had been vailed
in thick clouds and mist, appeared frowning above the haze. The wreck
was more than two miles from the frightful shore. The base of the island
was still buried in impenetrable gloom. In this perilous extremity, one
was for cutting away the anchor, which had been got up to the cathead in
time of need; another was for cutting down the foremast, the
foretop-mast being already by the board. The fog totally disappeared,
and the black, rocky island stood in all its rugged deformity before
their eyes. Suddenly the sun broke out in full splendor, as if to expose
more clearly to the view of the sufferers their dreadful predicament.
Despair was in every bosom--death, arrayed in all its terrors, seemed to
hover over the wreck. But exertion was required, and every thing that
human energy could devise was effected. The wreck, on which all eagerly
clung, was fortunately drifted by the tide and wind between ledges of
sunken rocks and thundering breakers, until, after the lapse of several
hours, it entered the only spot on the island where a landing was
possibly practicable,--for all the other parts of the coast consisted of
perpendicular cliffs of granite, rising from amid the deafening surf to
the height of twenty, forty, and sixty feet. As the shore was neared, a
raft was prepared, and on this a few paddled for the cove. At last the
wreck drove right in: ropes were instantly thrown out, and the crew and
passengers, (except two who had been crushed in the wreck,) including
three ladies and a female attendant, were snatched from the watery
grave, which a few short hours before had appeared inevitable, and
safely landed on the beach. Evening had now set in, and every effort was
made to secure whatever could be saved from the wreck. Bales of cloth,
cases of wine, a few boxes of cheese, some hams, the carcass of a milch
cow that had been washed on shore, buckets, tubs, butts, a seaman's
chest, (containing a tinder-box, and needles and thread,) with a number
of elegant mahogany turned bed-posts, and part of an investment for the
India market, were got on shore. The rain poured down in torrents--all
hands were busily at work to procure shelter from the weather; and with
the bed-posts and broadcloths, and part of the foresail, as many tents
were soon pitched as there were individuals on the island.

Drenched with the sea and with the rain, hungry, cold, and comfortless,
thousands of miles from their native land, almost beyond expectation of
human succor, hope nearly annihilated,--the shipwrecked voyagers retired
to their tents. In the morning the wreck had gone to pieces; and planks,
and spars, and whatever had floated in, were eagerly dragged on shore.
No sooner was the unfortunate ship broken up, than, deeming themselves
freed from the bonds of authority, many began to secure whatever came to
land: and the captain, officers, passengers, and crew were now reduced
to the same level, and obliged to take their turn to fetch water, and
explore the island for food. The work of exploring was soon over--there
was not a bird, nor a quadruped, nor a single tree to be seen. All was
barren and desolate. The low parts were scattered over with stones and
sand, and a few stunted weeds, rocks, ferns, and other plants. The top
of the mountain was found to consist of a fragment of original
table-land, very marshy, and full of deep sloughs, intersected with
small rills of water, pure and pellucid as crystal, and a profusion of
wild parsley and celery. The prospect was one dreary scene of
destitution, without a single ray of hope to relieve the misery of the
desponding crew. After some days, the dead cow, hams, and cheese were
consumed; and, from one end of the island to the other, not a morsel of
food could be seen. Even the celery began to fail. A few bottles of
wine, which for security had been secreted under ground, only remained.
Famine now began to threaten. Every stone near the sea was examined for
shellfish, but in vain.

In this dreadful extremity, and while the half-famished seamen were at
night squatting in sullen dejection around their fires, a large lot of
sea-birds, allured by the flames, rushed into the midst of them, and
were greedily laid hold of as fast as they could be seized. For several
nights in succession, similar flocks came in; and, by multiplying their
fires, a considerable supply was secured. These visits, however, ceased
at length, and the wretched party were exposed again to the most severe
privation. When their stock of wild fowl had been exhausted for more
than two days, each began to fear they were now approaching that sad
point of necessity, when, between death and casting lots who should be
sacrificed to serve for food for the rest, no alternative remained.
While horror at the bare contemplation of an extremity so repulsive
occupied the thoughts of all, the horizon was observed to be suddenly
obscured, and presently clouds of penguins alighted on the island. The
low grounds were actually covered; and before the evening was dark, the
sand could not be seen for the number of eggs, which, like a sheet of
snow, lay on the surface of the earth. The penguins continued on the
island four or five days, when, as if by signal, the whole took their
flight, and were never seen again. A few were killed, but the flesh was
so extremely rank and nauseous that it could not be eaten. The eggs were
collected and dressed in all manner of ways, and supplied abundance of
food for upward of three weeks. At the expiration of that period, famine
once more seemed inevitable; the third morning began to dawn upon the
unfortunate company after their stock of eggs were exhausted; they had
now been without food for more than forty hours, and were fainting and
dejected; when, as though this desolate rock were really a land of
miracles, a man came running up to the encampment with the unexpected
and joyful tidings that "millions of sea-cows had come on shore." The
crew climbed over the ledge of rocks that flanked their tents, and the
sight of a shoal of manatees immediately beneath them, gladdened their
hearts. These came in with the flood, and were left in the puddles
between the broken rocks of the cove. This supply continued for two or
three weeks. The flesh was mere blubber, and quite unfit for food, for
not a man could retain it on his stomach; but the liver was excellent,
and on this they subsisted. In the meantime, the carpenter with his gang
had constructed a boat, and four of the men had adventured in her for
Tristan d'Acunha, in hopes of ultimately extricating their
fellow-sufferers from their perilous situation. Unfortunately the boat
was lost---whether carried away by the violence of the currents that set
in between the islands, or dashed to pieces against the breakers, was
never known, for no vestige of the boat or crew was ever seen. Before
the manatees, however, began to quit the shore, a second boat was
launched; and in this an officer and some seamen made a second attempt,
and happily succeeded in effecting a landing, after much labor, on
the island.

It was to this island that the boat's crew of the Blendenhall had beat
their course, and its principal inhabitant, Governor Glass, showed them
every mark of attention. On learning the situation of the crew, on
Inaccessible Island, he instantly launched his boat, and, unawed by
considerations of personal danger, hastened, at the risk of his life, to
deliver his shipwrecked countrymen from the calamities they had so long
endured. He made repeated trips, surmounted all difficulties, and
fortunately succeeded in safely landing them on his own island, after
they had been exposed for nearly three months to the horrors of a
situation almost unparalleled in the recorded sufferings of
seafaring men.

After being hospitably treated by Glass and his company for three
months, the survivors obtained a passage to the Cape, all except a young
sailor named White, who had formed an attachment to one of the servant
girls on board, and who, in all the miseries which had been endured, had
been her constant protector and companion; while gratitude on her part
prevented her wishing to leave him. Both chose to remain, and were
forthwith adopted as free citizens of the little community.



ADVENTURES OF SERGEANT CHAMPE

IN HIS ATTEMPT TO CAPTURE ARNOLD.

The treason of General Arnold, the capture of Andre, and the
intelligence received by Washington through his confidential agents in
New York, that many of his officers, and especially a major-general,
whose name was given, were connected with Arnold, could not fail to
arouse the anxiety and vigilance of the commander-in-chief. The moment
he reached the army, then under the orders of Major-General Greene,
encamped in the vicinity of Tappan, he sent for Major Lee, who was
posted with the light troops some distance in front.

Lee repaired to headquarters, and found Washington in his marquee alone,
busily engaged in writing. Lee was requested to take a seat; and a
bundle of papers, lying on the table, was given to him for perusal. The
purport of these tended to show that Arnold was not alone in his base
conspiracy, but that a major-general, whose name was not concealed, was
also implicated. This officer had enjoyed, without interruption, the
confidence of the commander-in-chief, nor did there exist a single
reason in support of the accusation. It altogether rested on the
intelligence derived from the papers before him.

Major Lee was naturally shocked at these suspicions, and suggested that
they were an invention of the enemy. Washington admitted the
plausibility of the suggestion, but remarked that he had the same
confidence in Arnold, a few days before, that he now placed in the
persons accused.

After some further conversation, Washington disclosed a project, which
he had maturely revolved in his own mind. "I have sent for you," he
remarked to Lee, "to learn if you have in your corps any individual
capable of undertaking a delicate and hazardous enterprise. Whoever
comes forward on this occasion will lay me under great obligations
personally; and, in behalf of the United States, I will reward him
amply. No time is to be lost. He must proceed, if possible, this night.
My object is to probe to the bottom the affecting suspicions suggested
by the papers you have just read--to seize Arnold, and, by getting him,
to save Andre. While my emissary is engaged in preparing for the seizure
of Arnold, the agency of others can be traced; and the timely delivery
of Arnold to me, will possibly put it in my power to restore the amiable
and unfortunate Andre to his friends. My instructions are ready, in
which you will find express orders, that Arnold is not to be hurt; but
that he be permitted to escape, if it can be prevented only by killing
him, as his public punishment is the only object in view. This you can
not too forcibly press upon the person who may engage in the enterprise;
and this fail not to do. With my instructions, are two letters, to be
delivered as ordered, and here are some guineas to defray expenses."

Lee replied, that, as the first step to the enterprise was pretended
desertion, it would be difficult to find a commissioned officer, who
would undertake it. He knew, however, a sergeant-major of the cavalry,
named Champe, who was in all respects qualified for the delicate and
adventurous project. Champe was a native of Loudon county, in Virginia,
about twenty years of age. He had enlisted in 1776; was rather above the
common size, full of bone and muscle, with a saturnine countenance,
grave, thoughtful, and taciturn; of tried courage and inflexible
perseverance.

Washington was satisfied with this description, and exclaimed that
Champe was the very man for the enterprise. Lee promised to persuade him
to undertake it, and, taking leave of the general, returned to the camp
of the light corps, which he reached about eight o'clock at night.
Sending instantly for the serjeant-major, he informed him of the project
of the commander-in-chief; and urged upon him, that, by succeeding in
the capture and safe delivery of Arnold, he would not only gratify his
general in the most acceptable manner, but would be hailed as the
avenger of the reputation of the army, stained by a foul and wicked
perfidy; and, what could not but be highly pleasing, he would be the
instrument of saving the life of Major Andre.

Champe listened with attention to the plan unfolded by Lee, and replied
that it met his approbation. Even its partial success was likely to lead
to great good, as it would give relief to Washington's mind, and do
justice, as he hoped, to suspected innocence. Champe added, that he was
not deterred by the danger and difficulty to be encountered, but by the
ignominy of desertion, consequent upon his enlisting with the enemy. It
did not comport with his feelings to be even suspected of such a crime.

Lee combated the objections of the sergeant with his usual address, and
finally subdued his prejudices so far, that Champe consented to
undertake the enterprise. The instructions of Washington were then read
to him; and Lee particularly cautioned him to exercise the utmost
circumspection in delivering the letters, and to take care to withhold
from the two individuals addressed under feigned names, knowledge of
each other. He was further urged to bear in constant recollection the
solemn injunction, so pointedly expressed in the instructions, of
forbearing to kill Arnold in any event.

It now remained to arrange the mode of Champe's desertion, for, in order
to be received favorably by the British, it was necessary that he should
desert under circumstances which should assure them of his sincerity. To
cross the numerous patrols of horse and foot, was no small difficulty,
which was now increased in consequence of the swarms of irregulars, who
sometimes ventured down to the very point of Paulus Hook, with the hope
of picking up booty. Evident as were the difficulties in the way, no
relief could be afforded by Major Lee, lest it might induce a belief
that he was privy to the desertion, which opinion getting to the enemy,
would peril the life of Champe. The sergeant was left to his own
resources and management, Lee agreeing that in case Champe's departure
should be discovered before morning, he would take care to delay pursuit
as long as possible.

Lee placed in the hands of the sergeant some gold for his expenses, and
enjoining it upon him to apprise him of his arrival in New York as soon
as practicable, bade the adventurous Virginian farewell Champe, pulling
out his watch, compared it with that of Lee, reminding him of the
importance of holding back pursuit, which he was convinced would take
place during the night, and which might be fatal, as he would be obliged
to adopt a zigzag course, in order to avoid the patrols, which would
consume time. It was now nearly eleven. The sergeant returned to camp,
and, taking his cloak, valise, and orderly-book, he drew his horse from
the picket, and, mounting, set out upon his novel expedition.

Hardly half an hour had elapsed, when Captain Carnes, officer of the
day, waited on Major Lee, and, with considerable emotion, told him that
one of the patrol had fallen in with a dragoon, who, on being
challenged, put spur to his horse, and escaped, though vigorously
pursued. Lee, complaining of the interruption, and pretending to be
extremely fatigued, answered as if he did not understand what had been
said, which compelled the captain to repeat his remark.

"Who can the fellow be that was pursued?" said Lee; "a countryman,
probably."

"No," replied the captain; "the patrol sufficiently distinguished him to
know that he was a dragoon probably from the army, if not, certainly one
of our own."

This idea was ridiculed by Lee as improbable, as, during the whole
campaign, but a single dragoon had deserted from the legion. Carnes was
not convinced. Much apprehension was felt, at that time, of the effect
of Arnold's example. The captain withdrew to examine the squadron of
horse, whom he had ordered to assemble in pursuance of established usage
on similar occasions. He speedily returned, stating that the deserter
was known; he was no less a person than the sergeant-major, who was gone
off with his horse, baggage, arms, and orderly-book. Sensibly affected
at the supposed baseness of a soldier, who was generally esteemed,
Carnes added, that he had ordered a party to prepare for pursuit, and
that he had come for written orders from the major.

In order to gain time for Champe, Lee expressed his belief, that the
sergeant had not deserted, but had merely taken the liberty to leave
camp upon private business or pleasure; an example, Lee said, too often
set by the officers themselves, destructive as it was of discipline,
opposed as it was to orders, and disastrous as it might prove to the
corps in the course of the service.

Some little delay was thus interposed. Carnes began to grow impatient at
what seemed the long-winded and unseasonable discourse. It being, at
length announced, that the pursuing party were in readiness, Major Lee
directed a change in the officer, giving the command to Cornet
Middleton. His object was to add to the delay. He knew, moreover, that,
from the tenderness of his disposition, Middleton would be reluctant to
do any personal injury to Champe, in the event of a pursuit.

Within ten minutes Middleton appeared to receive his orders, which were
delivered to him, made out in the customary form, and signed by the
major. The directions were, to pursue as far as could be done with
safety, Sergeant Champe, who was suspected of deserting to the enemy,
and of having taken the road to Paulus Hook; to bring him alive to camp,
that he might suffer in the presence of the army, but to kill him if he
resisted or attempted to escape after being taken.

Detaining the cornet a few minutes longer, in advising him what course
to pursue--urging him to take care of the horse and accoutrements, if
taken--and enjoining him to be on his guard, lest he might, by a too
eager pursuit, improvidently fall into the hands of the enemy--Lee
dismissed Middleton and his party. A shower of rain had fallen soon
after Champe's departure, which enabled the pursuing dragoons to find
the trail of his horse; for, at that time, the horses being all shod by
our own farriers, the shoes were made in the same form which, with a
private mark annexed to the fore shoes, and known to the troopers,
pointed out the trail of our dragoons, and, in this way, was
often useful.

When Middleton departed, it was a few minutes past twelve, so that
Champe had the start of his pursuers by little more than an hour. Lee
was very anxious, and passed a sleepless night. The pursuing party were,
on their part, occasionally delayed by the necessary halts to examine
the road, as the impressions of the horse's shoes directed the course.
These were, unfortunately, too evident, no other horse having passed
over the road since the shower. When the day broke, Middleton was no
longer obliged to halt, and he passed on with rapidity.

As the pursuers ascended an eminence to the north of the village of
Bergen, Champe was descried not more than half a mile in front.
Resembling an Indian in his vigilance, the sergeant at the same moment
discovered Middleton and his men, to whose object he was no stranger,
and giving spur to his horse, he determined to outstrip them. Middleton,
at the same instant, put his horses to the top of their speed; and
being, as the legion all were, well acquainted with the country, he
recollected a route through the woods to the bridge below Bergen, which
diverged from the great road near the Three Pigeons. Reaching the point
of separation, he halted, and, dividing his party, directed a sergeant,
with a few dragoons, to take the near cut, and possess, with all
possible dispatch, the bridge, while he, with the rest of his men,
followed Champe. He could not doubt but that Champe, being thus enclosed
between him and his sergeant, would deliver himself up. Champe did not
forget the short cut, and would have taken it, had he not remembered
that it was the usual route of our parties when returning in the day
from the neighborhood of the enemy. He consequently avoided it, and
wisely resolved to abandon his intention of getting to Paulus Hook, and
to seek refuge from two British galleys, lying a few miles to the west
of Bergen.

This was a station generally occupied by one or two galleys. Passing
through the village of Bergen, Champe took the road toward Elizabethtown
Point. Middleton's sergeant gained the bridge, where he concealed
himself, ready to intercept Champe as soon as he appeared. In the
meantime, Middleton, pursuing his course through Bergen, soon arrived,
also, at the bridge, when, to his mortification, he found that Champe
had escaped. Returning up the road, he inquired of the villagers of
Bergen, whether a dragoon had been seen that morning preceding his
party. He was answered in the affirmative, but could learn nothing
satisfactory as to the route taken by the fugitive. While engaged in
inquiries himself, he spread his party through the village to discover
the trail of Champe's horse. Some of the dragoons hit it, just as the
sergeant, leaving the village, reached the road to the point.

Pursuit was now vigorously renewed, and again Champe was descried.
Apprehending the event, he had prepared himself for it by lashing his
valise and orderly-book on his shoulders, and holding his drawn sword in
his hand, having thrown away the scabbard. The delay occasioned by
Champe's preparations for swimming had brought Middleton within two or
three hundred yards. As soon as Champe got abreast of the galleys, he
dismounted, and running through the marsh to the river, plunged into it,
calling on the people in the galley for help. This was readily given.
They fired on our horsemen, and sent a boat to meet Champe, who was
taken in, carried on board, and conveyed to New York, with a letter from
the captain of the galley, describing the scene, which he had himself
witnessed, of Champe's escape.

The horse belonging to Champe, with his equipments, cloak, and
sword-scabbard, was recovered by Middleton. About three o'clock in the
afternoon, our party returned, and the soldiers, seeing the horse in the
possession of the pursuing party, exclaimed that the deserter had been
killed. Major Lee, at this heart-rending announcement, rushed from his
tent, saw the sergeant's horse led by one of Middleton's dragoons, and
began to reproach himself with having been the means of spilling the
blood of the faithful and intrepid Champe. Concealing his anguish, he
advanced to meet Middleton, but was immediately relieved on seeing the
downcast countenance of the officer and his companions. From their looks
of disappointment, it was evident that Champe had escaped, and this
suspicion was soon confirmed by Middleton's narrative of the issue of
their pursuit.

Lee's joy was now as great as his depression had been a moment before.
He informed Washington of the affair, who was sensibly affected by the
account of Champe's hair-breadth escape, but was rejoiced that it was of
a character to put at rest the suspicions of the enemy, in regard to the
supposed deserter.

On the fourth day after Champe's departure, Lee received a letter from
him, written the day before, in a disguised hand, without any signature,
and stating what had passed, after he got on board the galley, where he
was kindly received. He was immediately conducted to New York, and
introduced to the British commandant, to whom he presented a letter from
the captain of the galley. Being asked to what corps he belonged, and a
few other general questions, he was sent under charge of an
orderly-sergeant to the adjutant-general, who was rejoiced to find that
he was sergeant-major of the legion of horse, hitherto remarkable for
their fidelity.

The adjutant-general noted down, in a large folio book, some particulars
in regard to Champe--his size, figure, place of birth, countenance, the
color of his hair, name of the corps to which he had belonged. After
this was finished, he was sent to the commander-in-chief in charge of
one of the staff, with a letter from the adjutant-general. Sir Henry
Clinton received him very kindly, and detained him more than an hour,
asking many questions in regard to the probable fate of Andre--whether
the example of Arnold's defection had not contaminated many of the
American officers and troops--whether Washington was popular with the
army, and what means might be employed to induce the men to desert. To
these various interrogatories, some of which were perplexing, Champe
answered warily; exciting, nevertheless, hopes that the adoption of
proper measures to encourage desertion, would probably bring off
hundreds of the American soldiers, including some of the best troops,
horse as well as foot. Respecting the fate of Andre, he said he was
ignorant, though there appeared to be a general wish in the army that
his life might not be taken; and that he believed that it would depend
more on the disposition of Congress, than on the will of Washington.

After the close of this long conversation, Sir Henry presented Champe
with a couple of guineas, and recommended him to wait on General Arnold,
who was engaged in raising an American legion for the service of his
majesty. Arnold expressed much satisfaction on being informed of the
effect of his example, and the manner of Champe's escape. He concluded
his numerous inquiries by assigning quarters to the sergeant. He
afterward proposed to Champe to join his legion, promising him the same
station he had held in the rebel service, and further advancement.
Expressing his wish to retire from the service, and his conviction of
the certainty of his being hung, if ever taken by the rebels, he begged
to be excused from enlistment; assuring the general, that should he
change his mind, he would accept his offer.

Retiring to the assigned quarters, Champe now turned his attention to
the delivery of his letters, which he could not effect till the next
night, and then only to one of the two incogniti, to whom he was
recommended. This man received the sergeant with attention, and having
read the letter, assured him of his faithful cooperation. The object for
which the aid of this individual was required, regarded those persons
implicated in the information sent to Washington. Promising to enter
with zeal upon the investigation, and engaging to transmit Champe's
letters to Major Lee, he fixed the time and place of their next meeting,
when they separated. A day or two afterward, Champe accepted the
appointment of recruiting sergeant to Arnold, for the purpose of
securing uninterrupted ingress and egress at the house which the
general occupied.

The letters which Lee received from Champe, announced that the
difficulties in his way were numerous and stubborn, and that his
prospect of success was by no means cheering. With respect to the
charges against certain officers and soldiers in the American army of an
intention to follow Arnold's example, he expressed his decided
conviction that they were unfounded; that they had taken their rise in
the enemy's camp, and that they would be satisfactorily confuted. But
the pleasure which the latter part of this communication afforded was
damped by the tidings it imparted respecting Arnold--as on his speedy
capture and safe delivery depended Andre's relief.

The interposition of Sir Henry Clinton, who was extremely anxious to
save his much-loved aid-de-camp, still continued. It was expected that
the examination of witnesses in Andre's case and the defense of the
prisoner, would protract the decision of the court of inquiry then
assembled, and give sufficient time for the consummation of the project
confided to Champe. This hope was disappointed in a manner wholly
unexpected. The honorable and accomplished Andre disdained defense, and
prevented the examination of witnesses, by confessing the character of
the mission, in the execution of which he was arrested. The court
reassembled on the second of October. Andre was declared to be a spy,
and condemned to suffer accordingly.

The painful sentence was executed on the subsequent day, in the usual
form, the commander-in-chief deeming it improper to interpose any delay.
In this decision he was warranted by the unpromising intelligence
received from Champe--by the still existing implication of other
officers in Arnold's conspiracy--by a due regard to public opinion, and
by the inexorable necessity of a severe example.

The fate of Andre, hastened by himself, deprived the enterprise
committed to Champe of a feature which had been highly prized by the
projector, and which had engaged the heart of the individual selected
for its execution. Washington ordered Major Lee to communicate what had
passed to the sergeant, with directions to encourage him to prosecute
with vigor the remaining objects of his instructions. Champe bitterly
deplored the fate of Andre, and confessed that the hope of saving the
unfortunate young man had been his main inducement in undertaking his
dangerous enterprise. Nothing now remained but to attempt the seizure of
Arnold. To this object Champe gave his undivided attention. Ten days
elapsed before he could conclude his arrangements, at the end of which
time, Lee received from him his final communication, appointing the
third subsequent night for a party of dragoons to meet him at Hoboken,
when he hoped to deliver Arnold to the officer.

From the moment of his enlistment into Arnold's corps, Champe had every
opportunity he could desire for watching the habits of that individual.
He discovered that it was his custom to return home about twelve every
night, and that, previous to going to bed, he generally walked in his
garden. During this visit, the conspirators were to seize him, gag him,
and carry him across the river.

Adjoining the house in which Arnold resided, and in which it was
designed to seize and gag him, Champe had taken out several of the
palings and replaced them, so that they might be readily removed, and
open a way to the neighboring alley. Into this alley he meant to have
conveyed his prisoner, aided by his companions, one of two associates
who had been introduced by the friend to whom Champe had been originally
made known by letter from the commander-in-chief, and with whose aid and
counsel he had so far conducted the enterprise. His other associate was
in readiness with the boat at one of the wharves on the Hudson river, to
receive the party.

Champe and his friend intended to have placed themselves each under
Arnold's shoulder, and to have thus borne him through the most
unfrequented alleys and streets to the boat; representing Arnold, in
case of being questioned, as a drunken sailor, whom they were conveying
to the guard-house. The passage across the river could be easily
accomplished.

These particulars were communicated by Lee to Washington, who directed
the former to meet Champe, and to take care that Arnold should not be
hurt. The appointed day arrived, and Lee with a party of dragoons, left
camp late in the evening, with three led horses--one for Arnold, one for
the sergeant, and the third for his associate. From the tenor of the
last communication from Champe, no doubt was entertained of the success
of the enterprise. The party from the American camp reached Hoboken
about midnight, where they were concealed in the adjoining wood--Lee,
with three dragoons, stationing himself near the river shore.

Hour after hour passed. No boat approached. At length the day broke, and
the major retired with his party back to the camp, much chagrined at the
failure of the project.

In a few days, Lee received an anonymous letter from Champe's patron and
friend, informing him, that on the day preceding the night for the
execution of the plot, Arnold had removed his quarters to another part
of the town, to superintend the embarkation of troops preparing, as was
rumored, for an expedition, to be placed under his own direction. The
American legion, consisting chiefly of American deserters, had been
transferred from the barracks to one of the transports; it being
apprehended that if left on shore till the expedition was ready, many of
them might desert.

Thus it happened that John Champe, instead of crossing the Hudson that
night, was safely deposited on board one of the transports, from which
he never departed till the troops under Arnold landed in Virginia, Nor
was he able to escape from the British army till after the junction of
Lord Cornwallis, at Petersburgh, when he deserted; and passing through
Virginia and North Carolina, safely joined the American army soon after
it had passed the Congaree, in pursuit of Lord Rawdon.

Champe's appearance excited extreme surprise among his former comrades,
which was not a little increased when they witnessed the cordial
reception, which he met with from the late Major, now Lieutenant-Colonel
Lee. His whole story soon became known to the corps, and he became an
object of increased respect and regard.

Champe was munificently rewarded, and General Washington gave him a
discharge from further service, lest, in the vicissitudes of war, he
might fall into the enemy's hands, in which event, if recognized, he
could expect no mercy. Champe resided in London county, Virginia, after
leaving the army. He afterward removed to Kentucky, where he died. For a
full account of his adventures, we may refer the reader to Major Lee's
Memoirs, to which we have been largely indebted.



ADVENTURE WITH PIRATES.

There lived, not many years ago, on the eastern shore of Mt. Desert--a
large island off the coast of Maine--an old fisherman, by the name of
Jedediah Spinnet, who owned a schooner of some hundred tons burden, in
which he, together with some four stout sons, was wont to go, about once
a year, to the Grand Banks, for the purpose of catching codfish. The old
man had five things, upon the peculiar merits of which he loved to
boast--his schooner, "Betsy Jenkins," and his four sons. The four sons
were all their father represented them to be, and no one ever doubted
his word, when he said that their like was not to be found for fifty
miles around. The oldest was thirty-two, while the youngest had just
completed his twenty-sixth year, and they answered to the names of Seth,
Andrew, John, and Samuel.

One morning a stranger called upon Jedediah to engage him to take to
Havana some iron machinery belonging to steam engines for sugar
plantations. The terms were soon agreed upon, and the old man and his
sons immediately set about putting the machinery on board; that
accomplished, they set sail for Havana, with a fair wind, and for
several days proceeded on their course without any adventure of any
kind. One morning, however, a vessel was descried off their starboard
quarter, which, after some hesitation, the old man pronounced a pirate.
There was not much time allowed them for doubting, for the vessel soon
saluted them with a very agreeable whizzing of an eighteen pound shot
under the stern.

"That means for us to heave to," remarked the old man.

"Then I guess we'd better do it hadn't we?" said Seth.

"Of course."

Accordingly, the Betsy Jenkins was brought up into the wind, and her
main-boom hauled over to windward.

"Now boys," said the old man, as soon as the schooner came to a stand,
"all we can do is to be as cool as possible, and to trust to fortune.
There is no way to escape that I can see now; but, perhaps, if we are
civil, they will take such stuff as they want, then let us go. At any
rate there is no use crying about it, for it can't be helped. Now get
your pistols, and see that they are surely loaded, and have your knives
ready, but be sure and hide them, so that the pirates shall see no show
of resistance. In a few moments all the arms which the schooner
afforded, with the exception of one or two old muskets, were secured
about the persons of our Down Easters, and they quietly awaited the
coming of the schooner.

"One word more, boys," said the old man, just as the pirate came round
under the stern.

"Now watch every movement I make, and be ready to jump the moment I
speak."

As Captain Spinnet ceased speaking, the pirate luffed under the
fisherman's lee-quarter, and, in a moment more, the latter's deck was
graced with the presence of a dozen as savage-looking mortals as eyes
ever rested upon.

"Are you the captain of this vessel," demanded the leader of the
boarders, as he approached the old man.

"Yes sir."

"What is your cargo?"

"Machinery for ingines."

"Nothing else?" asked the pirate with a searching look.

At this moment, Captain Spinnet's eye caught what looked like a sail off
to the southward and eastward, but no sign betrayed the discovery, and,
while a brilliant idea shot through his mind, he hesitatingly replied:

"Well, there is a leetle something else."

"Ha! and what is it?"

"Why, sir, perhaps I hadn't ought to tell," said Captain Spinnet,
counterfeiting the most extreme perturbation. "You see, 'twas given to
me as a sort of trust, an' 't wouldn't be right for me to give up. You
can take any thing else you please, for I s'pose I can't help myself."

"You are an honest codger, at any rate," said the pirate; "but, if you
would live ten minutes longer, just tell me what you've got on board,
and exactly where it lays."

The sight of the cocked pistol brought the old man to his senses, and,
in a deprecating tone, he muttered:

"Don't kill me, sir, don't, I'll tell you all. We have got forty
thousand silver dollars nailed up in boxes and stowed away under some of
the boxes just forward of the cabin bulkhead, but Mr. Defoe didn't
suspect that any body would have thought of looking for it there."

"Perhaps so," chuckled the pirate, while his eyes sparkled with delight.
And then, turning to his own vessel, he ordered all but three of his men
to jump on board the Yankee.

In a few moments the pirates had taken off the hatches, and, in their
haste to get at the "silver dollars," they forgot all else; but not so
with Spinnet; he had his wits at work, and no sooner had the last of the
villains disappeared below the hatchway, than he turned to his boys.

"Now, boys, for our lives. Seth, you clap your knife across the fore
throat and peak halyards; and you, John, cut the main. Be quick now, an'
the moment you've done it, jump aboard the pirate. Andrew and Sam, you
cast off the pirate's graplings; an' then you jump--then we'll walk into
them three chaps aboard the clipper. _Now for it_."

No sooner were the last words out of the old man's mouth, than his sons
did exactly as they had been directed. The fore and main halyards were
cut, and the two graplings cast off at the same instant, and, as the
heavy gaffs came rattling down, our five heroes leaped on board the
pirate. The moment the clipper felt at liberty, her head swung off, and,
before the astonished buccaneers could gain the decks of the fisherman,
their own vessel was a cable's length to leeward, sweeping gracefully
away before the wind, while the three men left in charge were
easily secured.

"Halloa, there!" shouted Captain Spinnet, as the luckless pirates
crowded around the lee gangway of their prize, "when you find them
silver dollars, just let us know, will you?"

Half a dozen pistol shots was all the answer the old man got, but they
did him no harm; and, crowding up all sail, he made for the vessel he
had discovered, which lay dead to leeward of him, and which he made out
to be a large ship. The clipper cut through the water like a dolphin,
and, in a remarkably short space of time, Spinnet luffed up under the
ship's stern, and explained all that had happened. The ship proved to be
an East Indiaman, bound for Charleston, having, all told, thirty men on
board, twenty of whom at once jumped into the clipper and offered their
services in helping to take the pirate.

Before dark, Captain Spinnet was once more within hailing distance of
his own vessel, and raising a trumpet to his mouth, he shouted:

"Schooner ahoy! Will you quietly surrender yourselves prisoners, if we
come on board!"

"Come and try it!" returned the pirate captain, as he brandished his
cutlass above his head in a threatening manner, which seemed to indicate
that he would fight to the last.

But that was his last moment, for Seth was crouched below the bulwarks,
taking deliberate aim along the barrel of a heavy rifle, and, as the
bloody villain was in the act of turning to his men, the sharp crack of
Seth Spinnet's weapon rang its fatal death-peal, and the next moment the
captain fell back into the arms of his men, with a brace of bullets in
his heart.

"Now," shouted the old man, as he leveled the long pivot gun, and seized
a lighted match, "I'll give you just five minutes to make your minds up
in, and, if you don't surrender, I'll blow every one of you into the
other world."

The death of their captain, and, withal the sight of the pivot gun--its
peculiar properties they knew full well--brought the pirates to their
senses, and they threw down their weapons, and agreed to give
themselves up.

In two days from that time, Captain Spinnet delivered his cargo safely
in Havana, gave the pirates into the hands of the civil authorities, and
delivered the clipper up to the government, in return for which, he
received a sum of money sufficient for an independence during the
remainder of his life, as well as a very handsome medal from the
government.



KENTON THE SPY.

A secret expedition had been planned by Col. Bowman, of Kentucky, against
an Indian town on the little Miama. Simon Kenton and two young men,
named Clark and Montgomery, were employed to proceed in advance, and
reconnoiter. Kenton was a native of Fauquier county, Virginia, where he
was born the fifteenth of May, 1755; his companions were roving
backwoodsmen, denizens of the wood, and hunters like himself.

These adventurers set out in obedience to their orders, and reached the
neighborhood of the Indian village without being discovered. They
examined it attentively, and walked around the cabins during the night
with perfect impunity. Had they returned after reconnoitering the place,
they would have accomplished the object of their mission, and avoided a
heavy calamity. They fell martyrs, however to their passion for
horseflesh.

Unfortunately, during their nightly promenade, they stumbled upon a
pound, in which were a number of Indian horses. The temptation was not
to be resisted. They severally seized a horse and mounted. But there
still remained a number of fine animals; and the adventurers cast
longing, lingering looks behind. It was melancholy--the idea of
forsaking such a goodly prize. Flesh and blood could not resist the
temptation. Getting scalped was nothing to the loss of such beautiful
specimens of horseflesh. They turned back, and took several more. The
horses, however, seemed indisposed to change masters, and so much noise
was made, in the attempt to secure them, that at last the thieves were
discovered.

The cry rang through the village at once, that the Long-Knives were
stealing their horses right before the doors of their wigwams. A great
hubbub ensued; and Indians, old and young, squaws, children, and
warriors, all sallied out with loud screams, to save their property from
the greedy spoilers. Kenton and his friends saw that they had overshot
their mark, and that they must ride for their lives. Even in this
extremity, however, they could not reconcile their minds to the
surrender of a single horse which they had haltered; and while two of
them rode in front and led a great number of horses, the other brought
up the rear, and, plying his whip from right to left, did not permit a
single animal to lag behind.

In this manner, they dashed through the woods at a furious rate with
the hue and cry after them, until their course was suddenly stopped by
an impenetrable swamp. Here, from necessity, they paused a few minutes,
and listened attentively. Hearing no sounds of pursuit, they resumed
their course, and, skirting the swamp for some distance in the vain hope
of crossing it, they bent their course in a straight direction to the
Ohio. They rode during the whole night without resting a moment. Halting
a brief space at daylight, they continued their journey throughout the
day, and the whole of the following night; and, by this uncommon
celerity of movement, they succeeded in reaching the northern bank of
the Ohio on the morning of the second day.

Crossing the river would now insure their safety, but this was likely to
prove a difficult undertaking, and the close pursuit, which they had
reason to expect, rendered it expedient to lose as little time as
possible. The wind was high, and the river rough and boisterous. It was
determined that Kenton should cross with the horses, while Clark and
Montgomery should construct a raft, in order to transport their guns,
baggage, and ammunition, to the opposite shore. The necessary
preparations were soon made, and Kenton, after forcing his horses into
the river, plunged in himself, and swam by their side.

In a few minutes the high waves completely overwhelmed him, and forced
him considerably below the horses, who stemmed the current much more
successfully than he.

The horses, being left to themselves, turned about and made for the Ohio
shore, where Kenton was compelled to follow them. Again he forced them
into the water, and again they returned to the same spot, until Kenton
became so exhausted by repeated efforts, as to be unable to swim. What
was to be done?

That the Indians would pursue them was certain. That the horses would
not and could not be made to cross the river in its present state, was
equally certain. Should they abandon their horses and cross on the raft,
or remain with their horses and brave the consequence? The latter
alternative was adopted unanimously. Death or captivity might be
tolerated, but the loss of such a beautiful lot of horses, after working
so hard for them, was not to be thought of for a moment.

Should they move up or down the river, or remain where they were? The
latter plan was adopted, and a more indiscreet one could hardly have
been imagined. They supposed that the wind would fall at sunset, and
the river become sufficiently calm to admit of their passage; and, as it
was thought probable that the Indians might be upon them before night,
it was determined to conceal their horses in a neighboring ravine, while
they should take their stations in the adjoining wood.

The day passed away in tranquility; but at night the wind blew harder
than ever, and the water became so rough, that they would hardly have
been able to cross on their raft. As if totally infatuated, they
remained where they were until morning; thus wasting twenty-four hours
of most precious time in idleness. In the morning, the wind abated, and
the river became calm; but, it was now too late. Their horses had become
obstinate and intractible, and positively and repeatedly refused to take
to the water.

Their masters at length determined to do what ought to have been done at
first. They severally resolved to mount a horse, and make the best of
their way down the river to Louisville. But their unconquerable
reluctance to lose their horses overcame even this resolution. Instead
of leaving the ground instantly, they went back upon their own trail, in
the vain effort to regain possession of the rest of their horses, which
had broken from them in their last effort to drive them into the water.
They literally fell victims to their love for horseflesh.

They had scarcely ridden one hundred yards when Kenton, who had
dismounted, heard a loud halloo. He quickly beheld three Indians and one
white man, all well mounted. Wishing to give the alarm to his
companions, he raised his rifle, took a steady aim at the breast of the
foremost Indian, and drew the trigger. His gun had become wet on the
raft, and flashed.

The enemy were instantly alarmed, and dashed at him. Kenton took to his
heels, and was pursued by four horsemen at full speed. He instantly
directed his steps to the thickest part of the wood, and had succeeded,
as he thought, in baffling his pursuers, when, just as he was entering
the wood, an Indian on horseback galloped up to him with such rapidity
as to render flight useless. The horseman rode up, holding out his hand,
and calling out "Brother! brother!" in a tone of great affection. Kenton
observes, that if his gun would have made fire, he would have
"brothered" him to his heart's content, but, being totally unarmed, he
called out that he would surrender if they would give him quarter and
good treatment.

Promises were cheap with the Indian, who, advancing, with extended hands
and a withering grin upon his countenance, which was intended for a
smile of courtesy, seized Kenton's hand and grasped it with violence.
Kenton, not liking the manner of his captor, raised his gun to knock him
down, when an Indian, who had followed him closely through the
brushwood, sprung upon his back, and pinioned his arms to his side. The
one, who had been grinning so amiably, then raised him by the hair and
shook him until his teeth rattled, while the rest of the party coming
up, fell upon Kenton with their tongues and ramrods, until he thought
they would scold or beat him to death. They were the owners of the
horses which he had carried off, and now took ample revenge for the loss
of their property. At every stroke of their ramrods over his head, they
would exclaim in a tone of strong indignation, "Steal Indian hoss! hey!"

Their attention, however, was soon directed to Montgomery, who, having
heard the noise attending Kenton's capture, very gallantly hastened up
to his assistance, while Clark prudently took to his heels. Montgomery
halted within gunshot, and appeared busy with the pan of his gun, as if
preparing to fire. Two Indians instantly sprang off in pursuit of him,
while the rest attended to Kenton. In a few minutes Kenton heard the
crack of two rifles in quick succession, followed by a halloo, which
announced the fate of his friend. The Indians returned, waving the
bloody scalp of Montgomery, and with countenances and gestures which
menaced him with a similar fate.

They then proceeded to secure their prisoner by pinioning him with stout
sticks, and fastening him with ropes to a tree. During the operation
they cuffed him from time to time with great heartiness, and abused him
for a "tief!--a hoss steal!--a rascal!"

Kenton remained in this painful position throughout the night, looking
forward to certain death, and most probably torture, as soon as he
should reach their town. Their rage against him displayed itself the
next morning, in rather a singular manner.

Among the horses which Kenton had taken, was a wild young colt, wholly
unbroken, and with all his honors of mane and tail undocked. Upon him
Kenton was mounted, without saddle or bridle, with his hands tied behind
him, and his feet fastened under the horse's belly. The country was
rough and bushy, and Kenton had no means of protecting his face from the
brambles, through which it was expected that the colt would dash. As
soon as the rider was firmly fastened to his back, the colt was turned
loose with a sudden lash, but, after curvetting and capricoling for
awhile, to the great distress of Kenton, but to the infinite amusement
of the Indians, he appeared to take compassion on his rider, and,
falling into a line with the other horses, avoided the brambles
entirely, and went on very well. In this manner he rode through the day.
At night he was taken from the horse, and confined as before.

On the third day, they came within a few miles of Chillicothe. Here the
party halted, and sent forward a messenger to prepare for their
reception. In a short time, Blackfish, one of their chiefs, arrived, and
regarding Kenton with a stern countenance, thundered out in very good
English: "You have been stealing horses?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did Captain Boone tell you to steal our horses?"

"No, sir, I did it of my own accord."

Blackfish made no reply to this frank confession; but, brandishing a
hickory switch, he applied it so briskly to Kenton's naked back and
shoulders, as to bring the blood freely, and occasion acute pain.

Thus, alternately scolded and beaten, Kenton was conducted to the
village. All the inhabitants, men, women, and children, ran out to feast
their eyes with a sight of the prisoner; and all, down to the smallest
child, appeared in a paroxysm of rage. They whooped, they yelled, they
hooted, they clapped their hands, and poured upon him a flood of
abuse, to which all that he had yet experienced was courteous and civil.
With loud cries, they demanded that their prisoner should be tied to the
stake. The hint was instantly complied with; but, after being well
thrashed and tormented, he was released for the purpose of furnishing
further amusement to his captors.

[Illustration: DEATH OF MONTGOMERY.]

Early in the morning, he beheld the scalp of Montgomery stretched upon a
hoop, and drying in the air, before the door of one of their principal
houses, he was led out, and ordered to run the gauntlet. A row of boys,
women, and men, extended to the distance of a quarter of a mile. At the
starting-place, stood two grim warriors with butcher knives in their
hands. At the extremity of the line, was an Indian beating a drum; and a
few paces beyond the drum was the door of the council-house. Clubs,
switches, hoe-handles, and tomahawks, were brandished along the whole
line, and, as Kenton saw these formidable preparations, the cold sweat
streamed from his pores.

The moment for starting arrived, the great drum at the door of the
council-house was struck; and Kenton sprang forward in the race. He,
however, avoided the row of his enemies, and, turning to the east, drew
the whole party in pursuit of him. He doubled several times with great
activity, and at length observing an opening he darted through it, and
pressed forward to the council-house with a rapidity which left his
pursuers far behind. One or two of the Indians succeeded in throwing
themselves between him and the goal, and from these alone he received a
few blows, but was much less injured than he could at first have
supposed possible.

After the race was over, a council to decide his fate was held, while he
was handed over, naked and bound, to the care of a guard in the open
air. The deliberation commenced. Every warrior sat in silence, while a
large warclub was passed round the circle. Those who were opposed to
burning the prisoner on the spot, were to pass the club in silence to
the next warrior. Those in favor of burning were to strike the earth
violently with the club before passing it.

A teller was appointed to count the votes. This dignitary reported that
the opposition had prevailed; and that it was determined to take the
prisoner to an Indian town on Mad river, called Waughcotomoco. His fate
was announced to him by a renegado white man, who acted as interpreter.
Kenton asked "what the Indians intended to do with him upon reaching
Waughcotomoco."

"Burn you!" replied the renegado, with a ferocious oath.

After this pleasant assurance, the laconic and scowling interpreter
walked away.

The prisoner's clothes were restored to him, and he was permitted to
remain unbound. Thanks to the intimation of the interpreter, he was
aware of the fate in reserve for him, and resolved that he would never
be carried alive to Waughcotomoco. Their route lay through an unprimed
forest, abounding in thickets and undergrowth. During the whole of the
march, Kenton remained abstracted and silent; often meditating an effort
for the recovery of his liberty, and as often shrinking from the peril
of the attempt.

At length he was aroused from his reverie by the Indians firing off
their guns, and raising the shrill scalp-halloo. The signal was soon
answered, and the deep roll of a drum was heard far in front, announcing
to the unhappy prisoner, that they were approaching an Indian town,
where the gauntlet, certainly, and perhaps the stake awaited him.

The idea of a repetition of the dreadful scenes he had just encountered,
overcame his indecision, and, with a sudden and startling cry, he sprung
into the bushes, and fled with the speed of a wild deer. The pursuit was
instant and keen. Some of his pursuers were on horseback, some on foot.
But he was flying for his life. The stake and the hot iron, and the
burning splinters were before his eyes, and he soon distanced the
swiftest hunter in pursuit.

But fate was against him at every turn. Thinking only of the enemy
behind, he forgot that there might be an enemy before; and he suddenly
found that he had plunged into the center of a fresh party of horsemen,
who had sallied from the town at the firing of the guns, and happened,
unfortunately, to stumble upon the poor prisoner, now making a last
effort for freedom. His heart sunk at once from the ardor of hope to the
lowest pit of despair, and he was again haltered and driven into
captivity like an ox to the slaughter.

On the second day he arrived at Waughcotomoco. Here he was again
compelled to run the gauntlet, in which he was severely hurt.
Immediately after this ceremony, he was taken to the council-house, and
all the warriors once more assembled to determine his fate.

He sat silent and dejected upon the floor of the cabin, when the door of
the council-house opened, and Simon Girty, James Girty, John Ward, and
an Indian, came in with a woman as a prisoner, together with seven
children and seven scalps. Kenton was immediately removed from the
council-house, and the deliberations of the assembly were protracted to
a very late hour, in consequence of the arrival of the last-named party
with a fresh drove of prisoners.

At length he was again summoned to attend the council-house, being
informed that his fate was decided. Upon entering, he was greeted with a
savage scowl, which, if he had still cherished a spark of hope, would
have completely extinguished it. Simon Girty threw a blanket upon the
floor, and harshly ordered him to take a seat upon it. The order was not
immediately complied with, and Girty impatiently seizing his arm, jerked
him roughly upon the blanket, and pulled him down.

In a menacing tone, Girty then interrogated him as to the condition of
Kentucky.

"How many men are there in Kentucky?"

"It is impossible for me to answer that question," replied Kenton; "but
I can tell you the number of officers, and their respective ranks, and
you can judge for yourself."

"Do you know William Stewart?"

"Perfectly well; he is an old and intimate acquaintance."

"What is your own name?"

"Simon Butler!" replied Kenton, who had been known formerly by that
name.

Never did the announcement of a name produce a more powerful effect.
Girty and Kenton had served as spies together in Dunmore's expedition.
The former had not then abandoned the society of the whites for that of
the savages, and had become warmly attached to Kenton during the short
period of their services together. As soon as he heard the name, he
threw his arms around Kenton's neck, and embraced him with much emotion.

Then turning to the assembled warriors, who had witnessed this scene
with much surprise, Girty informed them that the prisoner, whom they had
just condemned to the stake, was his ancient companion and bosom-friend;
that they had traveled the same war-path, slept upon the same blanket,
and dwelt in the same wigwam. He entreated them to spare him the anguish
of witnessing the torture, by his adopted brothers, of an old comrade;
and not to refuse so trifling a favor as the life of a white man to the
earnest intercession of one, who had proved, by three years' faithful
service, that he was zealously devoted to the cause of the Indians.

The speech was listened to in silence, and some of the chiefs were
disposed to grant Girty's request. But others urged the flagrant
misdemeanors of Kenton; that he had not only stolen their horses, but
had flashed his gun at one of their young men; that it was in vain to
suppose that so bad a man could ever become an Indian at heart, like
their brother Girty; that the Kentuckians were all alike, very bad
people, and ought to be killed as fast as they were taken; and, finally,
they observed that many of their people had come from a distance, solely
to assist at the torture of the prisoner; and pathetically painted the
disappointment and chagrin, with which they would hear that all their
trouble had been for nothing.

Girty continued to urge his request, however, with great earnestness,
and the debate was carried on for an hour and a half, with much energy
and heat. The feelings of Kenton during this suspense may be imagined.

At length the warclub was produced, and the final vote was taken. It was
in favor of the prisoner's reprieve. Having thus succeeded in his
benevolent purpose, Girty lost no time in attending to the comfort of
his friend. He led him into his own wigwam, and, from his own store,
gave him a pair of moccasins and leggins, a breechcloth, a hat, a coat,
a handkerchief for his neck, and another for his head.

For the space of three weeks, Kenton lived in tranquility, treated with
much kindness by Girty and the chiefs. But, at the end of that time, as
he was one day with Girty and an Indian named Redpole, another Indian
came from the village toward them, uttering repeatedly a whoop of
peculiar intonation. Girty instantly told Kenton it was the
distress-halloo, and that they must all go instantly to the
council-house. Kenton's heart fluttered at the intelligence, for he
dreaded all whoops, and heartily hated all council-houses, firmly
believing that neither boded him any good. Nothing, however, could be
done, to avoid whatever fate awaited him, and he sadly accompanied Girty
and Redpole back to the village.

On entering the council-house, Kenton perceived from the ominous scowls
of the chiefs, that they meant no tenderness toward him. Girty and
Redpole were cordially received, but when poor Kenton offered his hand,
it was rejected by six Indians successively, after which, sinking into
despondence, he turned away, and stood apart.

The debate commenced. Kenton looked eagerly toward Girty, as his last
and only hope. His friend seemed anxious and distressed. The chiefs from
a distance rose one after another, and spoke in a firm and indignant
tone, often looking sternly at Kenton. Girty did not desert him, but his
eloquence was wasted. After a warm discussion, he turned to Kenton and
said, "Well, my friend, _you must die!_"

One of the stranger chiefs instantly seized him by the collar, and, the
others surrounding him, he was strongly pinioned, committed to a guard,
and marched off. His guard were on horseback, while he was driven before
them on foot, with a long rope round his neck. In this manner they had
marched about two and a half miles, when Girty passed them on horseback,
informing Kenton that he had friends at the next village, with whose aid
he hoped to be able to do something for him. Girty passed on to the
town, but finding that nothing could be done, he would not see his
friend again, but returned to Waughcotomoco by a different route.

The Indians with their prisoner soon reached a large village upon the
headwaters of the Scioto, where Kenton, for the first time, beheld the
celebrated Mingo chief, Logan, so honorably mentioned in Jefferson's
Notes on Virginia. Logan walked gravely up to the place where Kenton
stood, and the following short conversation ensued:

"Well, young man, these people seem very mad at you?"

"Yes, sir, they certainly are."

"Well; don't be disheartened. I am a great chief. You are to go to
Sandusky. They speak of burning you there. But I will send two runners
to-morrow to help you."

Logan's form was manly, his countenance calm and noble, and he spoke
the English language with fluency and correctness. Kenton's spirits
revived at the address of the benevolent chief, and he once more looked
upon himself as providentially rescued from the stake.

On the following morning, two runners were despatched to Sandusky as the
chief had promised. In the evening they returned, and were closeted with
Logan. Kenton felt the most burning anxiety to know the result of their
mission, but Logan did not visit him until the next morning. He then
walked up to him, accompanied by Kenton's guard, and, giving him a piece
of bread, told him that he was instantly to be carried to Sandusky; and
left him without uttering another word.

Again Kenton's spirits sunk. From Logan's manner, he supposed that his
intercession had been unavailing, and that Sandusky was to be the scene
of his final suffering. This appears to have been the truth. But fortune
had not finished her caprices. On being driven into the town, for the
purpose of being burnt on the following morning, an Indian agent, from
Canada, named Drewyer, interposed, and once more was he rescued from the
stake. Drewyer wished to obtain information for the British commandant
at Detroit; and so earnestly did he insist upon Kenton's being
delivered to him, that the Indians at length consented, upon the express
condition that, after the required information had been obtained, he
should be again restored to their possession. To this Drewyer consented,
and, with out further difficulty, Kenton was transferred to his hands.
Drewyer lost no time in removing him to Detroit. On the road, he
informed Kenton of the condition upon which he had obtained possession
of his person, assuring him, however, that no consideration should
induce him to abandon a prisoner to the mercy of such wretches.

At Detroit, Kenton's condition was not unpleasant. He was obliged to
report himself every morning to an English officer; and was restricted
to certain boundaries through the day. In other respects he scarcely
felt that he was a prisoner. His wounds were healed, and his emaciated
limbs were again clothed with a fair proportion of flesh. He remained in
this state of easy restraint from October, 1777, until June, 1778, when
he meditated an escape.

He cautiously broached his project to two young Kentuckians, then at
Detroit, who had been taken with Boone at the Blue Licks, and had been
purchased by the British. He found them as impatient as himself of
captivity, and resolute to accompany him. He commenced instant
preparations. Having formed a close friendship with two Indian hunters,
he deluged them with rum, and bought their guns for a mere trifle. These
he hid in the woods, and returning to Detroit, managed to procure powder
and ball, with another rifle.

The three prisoners then appointed a night for their attempt, and agreed
upon a place of rendezvous. They met at the time and place appointed,
without discovery, and, taking a circuitous route, avoiding pursuit by
traveling only during the night, they at length arrived safely at
Louisville, after a march of thirty days.



THE DYING VOLUNTEER,

AN INCIDENT OF MOLINO DEL REY.

The sun had risen in all his glorious majesty, and hung over the eastern
horizon like a wall of glowing fire; and its bright rays danced merrily
along the lake of Teseneo--over the glittering domes of Mexico--past the
frowning battlements of Chapultepec, and lit, in all their glorious
effulgence, upon, the blood-stained field of Molino del Rey.

The contest was over--the sound of battle had died away, save an
occasional shot from the distant artillery of the castle, or the fire of
some strolling riflemen.

I was standing beside the battered remains of the mill door, above which
the first footing had been gained upon the well-contested wall, and
gazing over the plain, now saturated with the blood of my
fellow-soldiers, which that morning waved green with flowing grass, when
I heard a low and feeble wail in the ditch beside me. I turned towards
the spot, and beheld, with his right leg shattered by a cannon ball, a
voltiguer lying amid the mangled. He had been passed by in the haste of
gathering up the wounded under the fire from the castle, and the rays of
the burning sun beat down with terrible fervor upon the wounded limb,
causing heavy groans to issue from his pallid lips, and his marble
countenance to writhe with pain.

"Water, for God's sake, a drink of water!" he faintly articulated, as I
bent over him.

Fortunately, I had procured a canteen of water, and placing it to his
lips, he took a long, deep draught, and then sunk back exhausted upon
the ground.

"The sun," he murmured, "is killing me by its rays; can not you carry me
into the shade?"

"I can procure assistance, and have you taken to the hospital."

"No, do not, my sands of life are most out. An hour hence, I shall be a
dead man. Carry me into the shade of the mill, and then, if you have
time to spare, listen to my dying words, and, if you are fortunate
enough to return to the United States, bear me back a message to my
home, and to anoth--" he paused, and motioned me to carry him into the
shade. I did so, and the cold wind which swept along the spot appeared
to revive him, and he continued:

"You, sir, are a total stranger to me, and, from your uniform belong to
another corps, and yet I must confide this, the great secret of all my
recent actions, and the cause of my being here, to you. Would to God
that I had reflected upon the fatal steps I had taken, and I should now
have been at my home, enjoying the society of kind friends, instead of
dying upon the gory field, and in a foreign land. My father was a
wealthy man, in the town of G----h, in the state of Virginia, and moved
in the best society of the place. I had received an excellent education,
had studied law and was admitted, in the twenty-fourth year of my age,
to practice at the bar. I had early seen and admired a young lady of the
place, a daughter of an intimate friend of father's, and fortunately
the feeling was reciprocated, and we were engaged to be married. The war
in Mexico had been in existence some twelve months, and many flocked to
the standard of their country. It so happened, that about this time, a
recruiting office had been opened in the town, and several of my young
friends had enlisted to go and try their fortunes on the plains of
Mexico. One night there was a grand party in the place, in honor of
those who were about to depart for the seat of war, and both myself and
Eveline were at the hall. Among those who were assembled at that evening
was Augustus P., a talented young man, and accomplished scholar, gay and
lively in his manners, free and cheerful in his disposition, and a
universal favorite with the fair sex. He had been for some time paying
his addresses to Eveline, as I deemed, in rather too pointed a manner.
As the party had assembled in the long hall, and the dance was about to
commence, I asked for her hand for the first set."

'It is engaged,' she replied, as I thought, rather tartly.

'To whom, if I may be so bold as to inquire?' I demanded.

'To Augustus P.,' was the immediate reply.

I smothered my rising indignation the best I could, and proudly
returned the smile of malignant joy my rival gave me.

'Perhaps I can engage it for a second set,' I calmly replied.

'Mr. P. has engaged it for the entire evening,' she pettishly replied,
and rising and taking his hand they took their station upon the floor.

I remained thunderstruck and rooted to the spot, until I saw the eyes
of my hated rival fixed upon me, and, throwing off the spell that bound
me, I assumed a proud, cold look. As I swept by the dancers, Eveline
paused for a moment when just beside me, and, bending close to her ear,
I whispered, 'Eveline, farewell forever.'

She turned slightly pale, and asked, 'when?'

'To-night, I join the army for Mexico,' I firmly replied.

A deep flush passed haughtily across her brow, and then waving her hand
gracefully, she replied, 'Go,' and glided through the mazes of
the dance.

I rushed from the spot, and never paused until I had entered the
recruiting office, and offered myself a candidate for the army.

'Are you a good, moral man, of well-regulated habits?' asked the
sergeant.

'Can give a hundred certificates, if necessary, I hastily replied.

'I rather think you'll do,' said the officer with a smile, and he
enrolled me as a soldier. 'When do you wish to leave?'

'Now--to-night--to-morrow--any time,' I eagerly answered.

'Promptness is a good quality, you will make a good soldier. Get ready
to start at eight o'clock in the morning, for Newport, Ky.'

'I will be ready,' and, rushing from the room, I hastened home, packed
up my things, and threw myself down on the bed to sleep. But it was
impossible. Heavy thoughts were crowding my mind with lightning speed,
and I resolved to depart the next day, without bidding adieu to father
or mother, sister or brother; but feeling a deep respect, which I held
for my father's advice, would prevail and I should be induced to remain
at home. I made the resolve and carried it out. The next morning I was
at the office by seven o'clock, was furnished with a suit of
regimentals, and departed for the railroad depot to start for Wheeling.
As I hurried along, who should turn the corner of the street but
Eveline, and we met for the last time on earth. I informed her of my
intentions, and, without manifesting any disposition of regret at my
departure, she gaily said: "'Good bye, and may good luck attend you,'
and she glided away.

"A new fuel was added to my desire to hasten from such scenes; and I
had soon left the town for the Ohio. I will not weary you with further
details, as my breath is failing fast. Suffice it to say I arrived in
Mexico, and, here I am, perishing by inches upon the battle-field.

"Here," he continued, "is a ring," taking one from his finger, and
presenting it to me, "which was given me by Eveline as a bond of our
marriage contract. I have worn it ever since, and, as I told her then,
'it shall leave me but with my death,' Take it to her, when you get
back, and, if she be not married, give it to her, and tell her he who
sent it never forgot her for a single moment, even in his dying hour,
and is lying beneath the clods of a foreign soil. This Bible, give back
to my father, and tell him I have studied its precepts: to my mother and
sisters, say that I have sent them a son's and brother's dying love;
tell my brothers to beware of human strife."

He faltered in his speech, and then murmuring, "I am going," pressed my
hand feebly and expired. I dug a lone grave upon the field, and laid him
to "sleep his last sleep," until that day when all shall be summoned to
a final account.

One year rolled on, and how chequered by passing events! Chapultepec had
fallen, the city of Mexico was taken, and peace, thrice glorious peace,
had waved her pinions over the land of war. The volunteers were joyfully
hastening to their homes, and, among the rest, I once more trod my
native land, a freeman again in heart and soul. A spell of sickness at
first confined me several weeks, but at length I rose wearied and feeble
from my bed, and my physicians recommended a change of air. I traveled
into Virginia, and one evening I entered the town of G----h. I inquired
for the family of my friend, and was directed to a fine-looking building
upon the principal street. I advanced and rang the bell, and anxiously
waited an answer. At length the door opened, and an old grey-headed man
stood before me, the lines of his face marked by care, and his whole
appearance betokened one who had a deep grief at heart.

"Mr. ----, I presume?" said I, bowing.

"The same, sir; won't you walk in?" replied the old man, politely.

I entered the house, and was soon seated in the parlor, when the old man
started to leave the room.

"I have something of importance for your private ear," said I, hastily.

He turned towards me, and taking the Bible from my pocket, I held it up
to view. Quicker than thought, the aged father sprang forward, caught
the book in his hand, and murmured, as the tears fell slowly over his
aged cheeks:

"My son, my son, you bring news of him."

"I do, but it is very bad," I answered, my voice trembling as I spoke,
and I retold to him the scenes upon the battle-field.

When I had finished, the old man clasped his hands in agony, and,
raising his eyes toward the ceiling, exclaimed, in deep and fervent
tones, "God's will be done!"

At this moment, a young lady of pale, care-worn countenance entered the
parlor, and, rising, I said, "Miss Eveline ----, I believe?"

"The same," she calmly replied.

As her eyes glanced at the ring, which I silently presented, she
stretched forth her hand, grasped it convulsively, then fell suddenly
forward upon the carpet, the blood oozing rapidly from her mouth. The
terrible ordeal had broken a blood-vessel, and her spirit passed
unchecked to another world.

A plain, marble slab, in the graveyard of the town of G----h, upon which
is engraved the lone word, "Eveline," marks the last resting place of
the betrothed of the Dying Volunteer.



ESCAPE FROM A MEXICAN QUICKSAND

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.

A few days afterward, another adventure befell me; and I began to think
I was destined to become a hero among the "mountain men."

A small party of the traders--myself among the number--had pushed
forward ahead of the caravan. Our object was to arrive at Santa Fé a day
or two before the wagons, in order to have every thing arranged with the
governor for their entrance into the capital. We took the route by
the Cimmaron.

Our road, for a hundred miles or so, lay through a barren desert,
without game, and almost without water. The buffalo had all disappeared,
and deer were equally scarce. We had to content ourselves on the dried
meat which we had brought from the settlements. We were in the deserts
of the artemisia. Now and then we could see a stray antelope bounding
away before us, but keeping far out of range. They, too, seemed to be
unusually shy.

On the third day after leaving the caravan, as we were riding near the
Cimmaron, I thought I observed a pronged head disappearing behind a
swell in the prairie. My companions were skeptical, and none of them
would go with me; so, wheeling out of trail, I started alone. One of
them--for Gode was behind--kept charge of my dog, as I did not choose to
take him with me, lest he might alarm the antelopes. My horse was fresh
and willing; and, whether successful or not, I knew I could easily
overtake the party by camping-time.

I struck directly toward the spot where I had seen the object. It
appeared to be only half a mile or so from the trail. It proved more
distant--a common illusion in the crystal atmosphere of these
upland regions.

A curiously formed ridge, traversed the plain from east to west. A
thicket of cactus covered part of its summit. Toward the thicket I
directed myself.

I dismounted at the bottom of the slope, and leading my horse silently
up among the cactus plants, tied him to one of their branches. I then
cautiously crept through the thorny leaves toward the point where I
fancied I had seen the game. To my joy, not one antelope, but a brace of
those beautiful animals, was quietly grazing beyond; but alas! too far
off for the carry of my rifle. They were fully three hundred yards
distant, upon a smooth, grassy slope. There was not even a sage bush to
cover me, should I attempt to approach them. What was to be done?

I lay for several minutes, thinking over the different tricks, known in
hunter craft, for taking the antelope. Should I imitate their call?
Should I hoist my handkerchief and try to lure them up? I saw that they
were too shy; for, at short intervals, they threw up their graceful
heads, and looked inquiringly around them. I remembered the red blanket
on my saddle. I could display this upon the cactus-bushes, perhaps it
would attract them.

I had no alternative; and was turning to go back for the blanket; when,
all at once, my eye rested upon a clay-colored line, running across the
prairie, beyond where the animals were feeding. It was a break in the
plain, a buffalo road, or the channel of an _arroyo_, in either case,
the very cover I wanted, for the animals were not a hundred yards from
it; and were getting still nearer to it as they fed.

Creeping back out of the thicket, I ran along the side of the slope
toward a point, where I had noticed that the ridge was depressed to the
prairie level. Here, to my surprise, I found myself on the banks of a
broad arroyo, whose water, clear and shallow, ran slowly over a bed of
sand and gypsum.

The banks were low, not over three feet above the surface of the water,
except where the ridge impinged upon the stream. Here there was a high
bluff; and, hurrying around its base, I entered the channel, and
commenced wading upward.

As I had anticipated, I soon came to a bend where the stream, after
running parallel to the ridge, swept around and canoned through it. At
this place I stopped, and looked cautiously over the bank. The antelopes
had approached within less than rifle range of the arroyo; but they were
yet far above my position. They were still quietly feeding, and
unconscious of danger. I again bent down and waded on.

It was a difficult task proceeding in this way. The bed of the creek was
soft and yielding, and I was compelled to tread slowly and silently,
lest I should alarm the game; but I was cheered in my exertions by the
prospect of fresh venison for my supper.

After a weary drag of several hundred yards, I came opposite to a small
clump of wormwood bushes, growing out of the bank. "I may be high
enough," thought I, "these will serve for cover."

I raised my body gradually, until I could see through the leaves. I was
in the right spot. I brought my rifle to a level; sighted for the heart
of the buck, and fired. The animal leaped from the ground, and fell back
lifeless. I was about to rush forward, and secure my prize, when I
observed the doe, instead of running off as I expected, go up to her
fallen partner, and press her tapering nose to his body. She was not
more than twenty yards from me, and I could plainly see that her look
was one of inquiry and bewilderment. All at once, she seemed to
comprehend the fatal truth; and, throwing back her head, commenced
uttering the most piteous cries, at the same time running in circles
around the body.

I stood wavering between two minds. My first impulse had been to reload,
and kill the doe; but her plaintive voice entered my heart, disarming me
of all hostile intentions. Had I dreamed of witnessing this painful
spectacle, I should not have left the trail. But the mischief was now
done. "I have worse than killed her," thought I, "it will be better to
despatch her at once."

Actuated by these principles of common, but to her fatal, humanity, I
rested the butt of my rifle, and reloaded. With a faltering hand, I
again leveled the piece and fired:

My nerves were steady enough to do the work. When the smoke floated
aside, I could see the little creature bleeding upon the grass--her
head resting upon the body of her murdered mate.

I shouldered my rifle, and was about to move forward, when, to my
astonishment, I found that I was caught by the feet. I was held firmly
as if my legs had been held in a vice.

I made an effort to extricate myself; another, more violent, and equally
unsuccessful, and, with a third, I lost my balance, and fell back upon
the water. Half suffocated, I regained my upright position, but only to
find that I was held as fast as ever. Again I struggled to free my
limbs. I could neither move them backward nor forward--to the right nor
the left; and I became sensible that I was gradually going down. Then
the fearful truth flashed upon me--I was sinking in a quicksand! A
feeling of horror came over me. I renewed my efforts with the energy of
desperation. I leaned to one side, then to the other, almost wrenching
my knees from their sockets. My feet remained as fast as ever. I could
not move them an inch.

The soft, clingy sand already overtopped my horse-skin boots, wedging
them around my ankles, so that I was unable to draw them off; and I
could feel that I was still sinking slowly but surely, as though some
subterraneous monster was leisurely dragging me down. This very thought
caused me a fresh thrill of horror, and I called aloud for help. To
whom? There was no one within miles of me--no living thing. Yes! the
neigh of my horse answered me from the hill, mocking me in my despair.

I bent forward as well as my constrained position would permit; and,
with frenzied fingers commenced tearing up the sand. I could barely
reach the surface, and the little hollow I was able to make filled up
almost as soon as it had been formed. A thought occurred to me. My rifle
might support me, placed horizontally. I looked for it. It was not to be
seen. It had sunk beneath the sand. Could I throw my body flat, and
prevent myself from sinking deeper? No! The water was two feet in depth.
I should drown at once. This last hope left me as soon as formed. I
could think of no plan to save myself. I could make no further effort. A
strange stupor seized upon me. My very thoughts became paralyzed. I knew
that I was going mad. For a moment I was mad.

After an interval, my senses returned. I made an effort to rouse my mind
from its paralysis, in order that I might meet death, which I now
believed to be certain, as a man should. I stood erect. My eyes had sunk
to the prairie level, and rested upon the still bleeding victims of my
cruelty. My heart smote me at the sight. Was I suffering a retribution
of God? With humbled and penitent thoughts, I turned my face to heaven,
almost dreading that some sign of omnipotent anger would scowl upon me
from above. But no! The sun was shining as bright as ever; and the blue
canopy of the world was without a cloud. I gazed upward with earnestness
known only to the hearts of men in positions of peril like mine.

As I continued to look up, an object attracted my attention. Against the
sky, I distinguished the outlines of a large bird. I knew it to be the
obscene bird of the plains, the buzzard vulture. Whence had it come? Who
knows? Far beyond the reach of human eye, it had seen or scented the
slaughtered antelopes; and, on broad, silent wing was now descending to
the feast of death. Presently another, and another, and many others,
mottled the blue field of the heavens, curving and wheeling silently
earthward. Then the foremost swooped down upon the bank, and, after
gazing around for a moment, flapped off toward its prey. In a few
seconds, the prairie was black with filthy birds, who clambered over the
dead antelopes, and beat their wings against each other, while they tore
out the eyes of the quarry with their fetid beaks. And now came gaunt
wolves, sneaking and hungry, stealing out of the cactus thicket; and
loping, coward-like, over the green swells of the prairie. These, after
a battle, drove away the vultures, and tore up the prey, all the while
growling and snapping vengefully at each other. "Thank heaven! I shall
at least be saved from this."

I was soon relieved from the sight. My eyes had sunk below the level of
the bank. I had looked my last on the fair, green earth. I could now see
only the clayey wall that contained the river, and the water that ran
unheeding past me. Once more I fixed my gaze upon the sky, and, with
prayerful heart, endeavored to resign myself to my fate. In spite of my
endeavors to be calm, the memories of earthly pleasures, and friends,
and home, came over me, causing me, at intervals, to break into wild
paroxysms, and make fresh, though fruitless struggles. And I was
attracted by the neighing of my horse. A thought entered my mind,
filling me with fresh hope. "Perhaps my horse--" I lost not a moment. I
raised my voice to its highest pitch, and called the animal by name. I
knew that he would come at my call. I had tied him but slightly. The
cactus limb would snap off. I called again, repeating words that were
well known to him. I listened with a bounding heart. For a moment there
was silence. Then I heard the quick sounds of his hoof, as though the
animal was rearing and struggling to free himself; then I could
distinguish the stroke of his heels, in a measured and regular gallop.

Nearer came the sounds; nearer and clearer, until the gallant brute
bounded out on the bank above me. There he halted, and, flinging back
his tossed mane, uttered a shrill neigh. He was bewildered, and looked
upon every side, snorting loudly.

I knew that, having once seen me, he would not stop until he had pressed
his nose against my cheek--for this was his usual custom. Holding out my
hands I again uttered the magic words. Now looking downward he perceived
me, and, stretching himself, sprang out into the channel. The next
moment, I held him by the bridle. There was no time to be lost. I was
still going down, and my arm-pits were fast nearing the surface of the
quicksand. I caught the lariat, and, passing it under the saddle-girths,
fastened it in a tight, firm knot. I then looped the trailing end,
making it secure around my body. I had left enough of the rope, between
the bit-ring and the girths, to enable me to check and guide the animal,
in case the drag upon my body should be too painful.

All this while the dumb brute seemed to comprehend what I was about. He
knew, too, the nature of the ground on which he stood, for, during the
operation, he kept lifting his feet alternately to prevent himself from
sinking. My arrangements were at length completed, and, with a feeling
of terrible anxiety, I gave my horse the signal to move forward. Instead
of going off with a start, the intelligent animal stepped away slowly,
as though he understood my situation. The lariat tightened, I felt my
body moving, and the next moment experienced a wild delight, a feeling I
can not describe, as I found myself dragged out of the sand. I sprang to
my feet with a shout of joy. I rushed up to my steed, and, throwing my
arms around his neck, kissed him with as much delight as I would have
kissed a beautiful girl. He answered my embrace with a low whimper, that
told me that I was understood.

I looked for my rifle. Fortunately, it had not sunk deeply, and I soon
found it. My boots were behind me, but I staid not to look for them,
being smitten with a wholesome dread of the place where I had left them.
I was not long in retreating from the arroyo; and, mounting, I galloped
back to the trail. It was sundown before I reached the camp, where I was
met by the inquiries of my companions. I answered all their questions by
relating my adventures, and, for that night, I was again the hero of the
camp-fire.



CHASED BY A RHINOCEROS.

On the 22d, says Mr. Cumming, ordering my men to move on toward a
fountain in the center of the plain, I rode forth with Ruyter, and held
east through a grove of lofty and wide-spreading mimosas, most of which
were more or less damaged by the gigantic strength of a troop of
elephants, which had passed there about twelve months before. Having
proceeded about two miles with large herds of game on every side, I
observed a crusty-looking, old bull borèlé, or black rhinoceros, cocking
his ears one hundred yards in advance. He had not observed us; and soon
after he walked slowly toward us, and stood broadside to, eating some
wait-a-bit thorns within fifty yards of me. I fired from my saddle, and
sent a bullet in behind his shoulder, upon which he rushed forward about
one hundred yards in tremendous consternation, blowing like a grampus,
and then stood looking about him. Presently he made off. I followed but
found it hard to come up with him. When I overtook him I saw the blood
running freely from his wound.

[Illustration: ESCAPE FROM THE RHINOCEROS]

The chase led through a large herd of blue wildebeests, zebras, and
springboks, which gazed at us in utter amazement. At length I fired my
second barrel, but my horse was fidgety, and I missed. I continued
riding alongside of him, expecting in my ignorance that at length he
would come to bay, which rhinoceroses never do; when suddenly he fell
flat on his broadside on the ground, but recovering his feet, resumed
his course as if nothing had happened. Becoming at last annoyed at the
length of the chase, as I wished to keep my horses fresh for the
elephants, and being indifferent whether I got the rhinoceros or not, as
I observed that his horn was completely worn down with age and the
violence of his disposition, I determined to bring matters to a crisis;
so, spurring my horse, I dashed ahead, and rode right in his path. Upon
this, the hideous monster instantly charged me in the most resolute
manner, blowing loudly through his nostrils; and, although I quickly
wheeled about to my left, he followed me at such a furious pace for
several hundred yards, with his horrid horny snout within a few yards of
my horse's tail, that my little Bushman, who was looking on in great
alarm, thought his master's destruction inevitable. It was certainly a
very near thing; my horse was extremely afraid, and exerted his utmost
energies on the occasion. The rhinoceros, however, wheeled about, and
continued his former course; and I, being perfectly satisfied with the
interview which I had already enjoyed with him, had no desire to
cultivate his acquaintance any further, and accordingly made for camp.



BURNING OF THE ERIE.

The steamboat Erie, under command of Captain Titus, left the dock at
Buffalo on the afternoon of August 9th, 1841, laden with merchandise,
destined for Chicago. As nearly as could be ascertained, she had on
board about two hundred persons, including passengers and crew.

The boat had been thoroughly overhauled and recently varnished. At the
moment of her starting, though the wind was blowing fresh, every thing
promised a pleasant and prosperous voyage. Nothing occured to mar this
prospect till about eight o'clock in the evening, when the boat was off
Silver Creek, about eight miles from the shore, and thirty-three miles
from the city, when a slight explosion was heard, and immediately,
almost instantaneously, the whole vessel was enveloped in flames. Among
the passengers were six painters, who were going to Erie to paint the
steamboat Madison. They had with them some demijohns filled with spirits
of turpentine and varnish, which, unknown to Captain Titus, were placed
on the boiler-deck directly over the boilers. One of the firemen who was
saved, says he had occasion to go on deck, and seeing the demijons,
removed them. They were replaced, but by whom is not known. Their
inflammable contents undoubtedly aided the flames in their
rapid progress.

Captain Titus, who was on the upper deck at the time of the explosion,
rushed to the ladies' cabin to obtain the life-preservers, of which
there were about one hundred on board; but, so violent was the heat, he
found it impossible to enter the cabin. He returned to the upper deck,
on his way giving orders to the engineer to stop the engine, the wind
and the headway of the boat increasing the fierceness of the flames and
driving them aft. The engineer replied, that in consequence of the
flames he could not reach the engine. The steersman was instantly
directed to put the helm hard a-starboard. She swung slowly around,
heading to the shore, and the boats--there were three on board--were
then ordered to be lowered. Two of the boats were lowered, but, in
consequence of the heavy sea on, and the headway of the vessel, they
both swamped as soon as they touched the water.

We will not attempt to describe the awful and appalling condition of the
passengers. Some were frantic with fear and horror, others plunged
headlong madly into the water, others again seized upon any thing
buoyant upon which they could lay hands. The small boat forward had been
lowered. It was alongside the wheel, with three or four persons in it,
when the captain jumped in, and the boat immediately dropped astern,
filled with water. A lady floated by with a life-preserver on. She cried
for help. There was no safety in the boat. The captain threw her the
only oar in the boat. She caught the oar and was saved. It was Mrs.
Lynde of Milwaukie, and she was the only lady who escaped.

In this condition, the boat, a mass of fierce fire, and the passengers
and crew endeavoring to save themselves by swimming or supporting
themselves by whatever they could reach, they were found by the
steamboat Clinton, at about ten o'clock that night. The Clinton had left
Buffalo in the morning, but, in consequence of the wind, had put into
Dunkirk. She lay there till near sunset, at which time she ran out, and
had proceeded as far as Barcelona, when just at twilight the fire of the
Erie was discovered, some twenty miles astern. The Clinton immediately
put about, and reached the burning wreck.

It was a fearful sight. All the upper works of the Erie had been burned
away. The engine was standing, but the hull was a mass of dull, red
flames. The passengers and crew were floating around, screaming in their
agony, and shrieking for help. The boats of the Clinton were instantly
lowered and manned, and every person that could be seen or heard was
picked up, and every possible relief afforded. The Lady, a little
steamboat lying at Dunkirk, went out of that harbor as soon as possible,
after the discovery of the fire, and arrived soon after the Clinton. By
one o'clock in the morning, all was still except the melancholy
crackling of the flames. Not a solitary individual could be seen or
heard on the wild waste of waters. A line was then made fast to the
remains of the Erie's rudder, and an effort made to tow the hapless hulk
ashore. About this time the Chautauque came up and lent her assistance.

The hull of the Erie was towed within about four miles of shore, when it
sank in eleven fathoms of water. By this time it was daylight. The lines
were cast oft. The Clinton headed her course toward Buffalo, which place
she reached about six o'clock.

Upon inquiry it was found that there had been between thirty and forty
cabin passengers, of whom ten or twelve were ladies. In the steerage
there were about one hundred and forty passengers, nearly all of whom
were Swiss and German emigrants. The whole number of persons on board,
who were saved, did not exceed twenty-seven.

All that imagination can conceive of the terrible and heart-rending was
realized in the awful destruction of this boat. Scores sank despairingly
under the wild waters; but there is reason to fear that many, very many,
strong men, helpless women, and tender children perished in the flames.

Among the passengers were a young gentleman and lady, who first became
acquainted with each other on board. The lady was accompanied by her
father. Upon an intimacy of a few hours an attachment seems to have been
formed between this couple. When the passengers rushed to the deck,
after the bursting forth of the flames, the lady discovered her new
acquaintance on a distant part of the deck, forced her way to him, and
implored him to save her. The only alternative left them was to jump
overboard, or to submit to a more horrible fate. They immediately
jumped, the gentleman making the first plunge, with a view of securing
for the young and fair being, who had measurably committed to his hands
her safety, a plank floating a short distance from the boat. As soon as
the plank was secured, the lady leaped into the water and was buoyed up
by her clothes, until the gentleman was enabled to float the plank to
her. For a short time the young man thought that his fair charge was
safe; but soon his hopes were blasted--one of the fallen timbers struck
the lady on the head, her form sank upon the water, a momentary
quivering was perceptible, and she disappeared from human view. Her
father was lost, but the young gentleman was among the number picked up
by the Clinton.

There was a fine race-horse on board, who, soon after the alarm, broke
from his halter at the bow of the boat, and dashed through the crowd of
passengers, prostrating all in his way; and then, rendered frantic by
terror and pain, he reared and plunged into the devouring fire, and
there ended his agony.

One of the persons saved, in describing the scene, says:--"The air was
filled with shrieks of agony and despair. The boldest turned pale. I
shall never forget the wail of terror that went up from the poor German
emigrants, who were huddled together on the forward deck. Wives clung to
their husbands, mothers frantically pressed their babes to their bosoms,
and lovers clung madly to each other. One venerable old man, his gray
hairs streaming on the wind, stood on the bows, and, stretching out his
bony hands, prayed to God in the language of his father-land.

"But if the scene forward was terrible, that aft was appalling, for
there the flames were raging in their greatest fury. Some madly rushed
into the fire; others, with a yell like a demon, maddened with the
flames, which were all around them, sprang headlong into the waves. The
officers of the boat, and the crew, were generally cool, and sprang to
lower the boats, but these were every one successively swamped by those
who threw themselves into them, regardless of the execrations of the
sailors, and of every thing but their own safety.

"I tried to act coolly--I kept near the captain, who seemed to take
courage from despair, and whose bearing was above all praise. The boat
was veering toward the shore, but the maddened flames now enveloped the
wheel-house, and in a moment the machinery stopped. The last hope had
left us--a wilder shriek rose upon the air. At this moment the second
engineer, the one at the time on duty, who had stood by his machinery as
long as it would work, was seen climbing the gallows-head, a black mass,
with the flames curling all around him. On either side he could not go,
for it was now one mass of fire. He sprang upward, came to the top, one
moment felt madly around him, and then fell into the flames. There was
no more remaining on board, for the boat now broached around and rolled
upon the swelling waves, a mass of fire. I seized upon a settee near me,
and gave one spring, just as the flames were bursting through the deck
where I stood--one moment more and I should have been in the flames. In
another instant I found myself tossed on a wave, grasping my frail
support with a desperate energy."

One of the not least interesting facts connected with the catastrophe,
was that the helmsman was found burnt to a cinder at his post. He had
not deserted it even in the last extremity, but grasped with his charred
fingers the wheel. His name was Luther Fuller. Honor to his memory!

A boy of twelve years of age, named Levi T. Beebee, belonging to
Cleveland, Ohio, was among those saved. He exhibited a degree of
self-possession and fortitude rarely surpassed. Though molten lead from
the burning deck was dropping on his head, and his hands were scorched
by the flames, he clung for at least two hours and a half to the chain
leading from the stern to the rudder.



CONFLICT WITH AN INDIAN.

David Morgan had settled upon the Monongahela during the early part of
the revolutionary war, and at this time had ventured to occupy a cabin
at the distance of several miles from any settlement.

One morning, having sent his younger children out to a field at a
considerable distance from the house, he became uneasy about them, and
repaired to the spot where they were working. He was armed, as usual,
with a good rifle. While sitting upon the fence and giving some
directions as to their work, he observed two Indians upon the other side
of the field gazing earnestly upon the party. He instantly called to the
children to make their escape, while he should attempt to cover
their retreat.

The odds were greatly against him, as in addition to other
circumstances, he was nearly seventy years of age, and, of course,
unable to contend with his enemies in running. The house was more than a
mile distant, but the children, having two hundred yards the start, and
being effectually covered by their father, were soon so far in front,
that the Indians turned their attention entirely to the old man. He ran
for several hundred yards with an activity which astonished himself, but
perceiving that he would be overtaken, long before he could reach his
home, he fairly turned at bay, and prepared for a strenuous resistance.
The woods through which they were running were very thin, and consisted
almost entirely of small trees, behind which, it was difficult to obtain
proper shelter.

Morgan had just passed a large walnut, and, in order to resist with
advantage, it became necessary to run back about ten steps in order to
regain it. The Indians were startled at the sudden advance of the
fugitive, and halted among a cluster of saplings, where they anxiously
strove to shelter themselves. This, however, was impossible; and Morgan,
who was an excellent marksman, saw enough of the person of one of them
to justify him in risking a shot. His enemy instantly fell,
mortally wounded.

The other Indian, taking advantage of Morgan's empty gun, sprung from
the shelter, and advanced rapidly upon him. The old man, having no time
to reload, was compelled to fly a second time. The Indian gained rapidly
upon him, and, when within twenty steps, fired, but with so unsteady an
aim, that Morgan was wholly unhurt, the ball having passed over
his shoulder.

He now again stood at bay, clubbing his rifle for a blow, while the
Indian, dropping his empty gun, brandished his tomahawk and prepared to
throw it at his enemy. Morgan struck with the butt of his gun, and the
Indian hurled his tomahawk at one and the same moment. Both blows took
effect; and both of the combatants were at once wounded and disarmed.
The breech of the rifle was broken against the Indian's skull, and the
edge of the tomahawk was shattered against the barrel of the rifle,
having first cut off two of the fingers of Morgan's left hand. The
Indian then attempting to draw his knife, Morgan grappled him, and bore
him to the ground. A furious struggle ensued, in which the old man's
strength failed, and the Indian succeeded in turning him.

Planting his knee on the breast of his enemy, and yelling loudly, as is
usual with the barbarians upon any turn of fortune, he again felt for
his knife, in order to terminate the struggle at once; but having lately
stolen a woman's apron, and tied it around his waist, his knife was so
much confined, that he had great difficulty in finding the handle.

Morgan, in the meantime, being an accomplished pugilist, and perfectly
at home in a ground struggle, took advantage of the awkwardness of the
Indian, and got one of the fingers of his right hand between his teeth.
The Indian tugged and roared in vain, struggling to extricate it. Morgan
held him fast, and began to assist him in hunting for the knife. Each
seized it at the same moment, the Indian by the blade, and Morgan by the
handle, but with a very slight hold.

[Illustration: THE LAST SHOT.]

The Indian, having the firmest hold, began to draw the knife further out
of its sheath, when Morgan, suddenly giving his finger a furious bite,
twitched the knife dexterously through his hand, cutting it severely.
Both now sprung to their feet, Morgan brandishing his adversary's knife,
and still holding his finger between his teeth. In vain the poor Indian
struggled to get away, rearing, plunging, and bolting, like an unbroken
colt. The teeth of the white man were like a vice, and he at length
succeeded in giving his savage foe a stab in the side. The Indian
received it without falling, the knife having struck his ribs; but a
second blow, aimed at the stomach, proved more effectual, and the savage
fell. Morgan thrust the knife, handle and all, into the body, directed
it upward, and, starting to his feet, made the best of his way home.



FIRE ON THE PRAIRIES.

The following account of one of those fearfully sublime spectacles--a
fire on the prairie--is from the "_Wild Western Scenes_" by J.B. Jones.
The hunters have been out and are overtaken by night, and are lost in
the darkness.

Ere long, a change came over the scene. About two-thirds of the distance
around the verge of the horizon a faint light appeared, resembling the
scene when a dense curtain of clouds hangs overhead, and the rays of the
morning sun steal under the edge of the thick vapor. But the stars could
be seen, and the only appearance of clouds was immediately above the
circle of light. In a very few minutes the terrible truth flashed upon
the mind of Glenn. The dim light along the horizon was changed to an
approaching flame. Columns of smoke could be seen rolling upward, while
the fire beneath imparted a lurid glare to them. The wind blew more
fiercely, and the fire approached from almost every quarter with the
swiftness of a race-horse. The darkened vault above became gradually
illuminated with a crimson reflection, and the young man shuddered with
the horrid apprehension of being burnt alive! It was madness to proceed
in a direction that must inevitably hasten their fate, the fire
extending in one unbroken line from left to right, and in front of them,
and they now turned in a course which seemed to place the greatest
distance between them and the furious element. Ever and anon a
frightened deer or elk leaped past, and the hounds no longer noticed
them, but remained close to the horses. The flames came on with awful
rapidity. The light increased in brilliance, and objects were
distinguishable far over the prairie. A red glare could be seen on the
sides of the deer as they bounded over the tall dry grass, which was
soon to be no longer a refuge for them. The young man heard a low
continued roar, that increased every moment in loudness, and, looking in
the direction whence they supposed it proceeded, they observed an
immense, dark, moving mass, the nature of which they could not divine,
but it threatened to annihilate every thing that opposed it. While
gazing at this additional source of danger, the horses, blinded by the
surrounding light, plunged into a deep ditch that the rain had washed in
the rich soil. Neither men nor horses, fortunately, were injured; and,
after several ineffectual efforts to extricate themselves, they here
resolved to await the coming of the fire. Ringwood and Jowler whined
fearfully on the verge of the ditch for an instant, and then sprang in
and crouched trembling at the feet of their master. The next instant the
dark, thundering mass passed overhead, being nothing less than an
immense herd of buffaloes driven forward by the flames. The horses bowed
their heads as if a thunderbolt were passing. The fire and the heavens
were hid from view, and the roar above resembled the rush of mighty
waters. When the last animal had sprung over the chasm, Glenn thanked
the propitious accident that thus providentially prevented him from
being crushed to atoms, and uttered a prayer to Heaven that he might by
a like means be rescued from the fiery ordeal that awaited him. It now
occurred to him that the accumulation of weeds and grass in the chasm,
which saved them from injury when falling in, would prove fatal when the
flames arrived. And after groping some distance along the trench, he
found the depth diminished, but the fire was not three hundred paces
distant. His heart sank within him. But when on the eve of returning to
his former position, with a resolution to remove as much of the
combustible matter as possible, a gleam of joy spread over his features,
as, casting a glance in a contrary direction from that they had recently
pursued, he beheld the identical mound he had ascended before dark, and
from which his unsteady and erratic riding in the night had fortunately
prevented a distant separation. They now led their horses forth, and,
mounting without delay, whipped forward for life or death. Could the
summit of the mound be attained, they were in safety--for there the soil
was not encumbered with decayed vegetation--and they spurred their
animals to the top of their speed. It was a noble sight to see the
majestic white steed flying toward the mound with the velocity of the
wind, while the diminutive pony miraculously followed in the wake like
an inseparable shadow. The careering flames were not far behind, and,
when the horses gained the summit and Glenn looked back, the fire had
reached the base!

Fortunately, that portion of the plain over which the scathing element
had spent its fury, was the direction the party should pursue in
retracing their way homeward.

The light, dry grass had been soon consumed, and the earth now wore a
blackened appearance, and was as smooth as if vegetation had never
covered the surface. As the party rode briskly along, (and the pony now
kept in advance,) the horses' hoofs rattled as loudly on the baked
ground as if it were a plank floor. The reflection of the fire in the
distance still threw a lurid glare over the extended heath. As the smoke
gradually ascended, objects could be discerned at a great distance, and
occasionally a half-roasted deer or elk was seen plunging about, driven
to madness by its tortures. And frequently they found the dead bodies of
smaller animals that could find no safety in flight.



THE CAPTAIN'S STORY.

At the close of the war with Great Britain, in the year 1815, I took
command of the brig Ganges, owned by Ebenezer Sage, Esq., then a wealthy
and respectable merchant at Middleton. I sailed from New York on the
20th of August, bound for Turk's Island for a cargo of salt, and, on the
5th of September, I arrived at my destined port. It being the season for
hurricanes in that region, it was thought most safe for us to go around
into a small harbor on the south side of the island. In order to reach
this harbor, we had to go through a narrow, crooked channel, with rocks
and dangerous reefs on every side, but, with a skillful pilot, we made
our way through safely, and came to anchor. On the next day we
commenced taking in our cargo of salt. On the 9th of September, a day
that I shall ever remember, my pilot came to me somewhat agitated, and
said that there were strong indications of an approaching hurricane, and
advised me to make all possible preparations to encounter it.

We therefore quit taking in salt, and made every thing about the ship
snug as possible. At twelve o'clock, midnight, the gale commenced, as
the pilot had anticipated, and continued to increase until six in the
morning, at which time it became most terrific. Every blast grew more
and more violent until our cables all parted, and we were left to the
mercy of the gale. It blew directly from the land. We got the ship
before the wind, as the only course we could pursue. In doing this we
were well aware of the dangerous channel we had to pass, and my only
hope was, that we might get to sea clear of the land. But this hope soon
vanished. In about twenty minutes after we started, the ship struck a
rock, which knocked off her rudder, and set her leaking badly. The
rudder being gone, we of course had no control of the vessel. She came
around side to the wind, and at this moment her mainmast was blown over
the side. We at once cut away the rigging that attached it to the hull,
and it floated off, and the foremast still standing, the ship swung off
again a little before the wind. All hands were soon set to pumping, but
we found that in spite of all our exertions, the water rapidly increased
in the hold.

The appearance of the elements at this time almost baffles description.
So violent was their commotion that no one could stand without grasping
something for support. Not a word could be heard that was uttered. I had
to communicate every order by means of signs, while I stood on the
quarter-deck holding on to the cabin doors. In this situation I
endeavored calmly to reflect. Here we were, as we supposed, on the open
ocean,--in a tempest of unparalleled violence--with no rudder--one mast
gone--boats all lost--and the ship settling under us from the weight of
water in the hold. The sky was black almost as midnight above us, and
the waves beneath, and around, and over us--for they dashed at quick
intervals, like so many furies, across the devoted ship--seemed ready to
drown us ere we sank into their dread abyss. The voice of the gale as it
howled through the rigging, mingled with the creaking of timbers, and
the roar of waters as they struck the vessel, was an awful wail, as it
appeared to me, over bodies devoted to almost instant death. Destruction
seemed inevitable. It would not, to all human calculation, be protracted
even an hour. We were sinking down, down--inch following inch of the
fated vessel in rapid succession--down remedilessly to our graves in the
maddened sea, amid the monsters of its great deep.

I descended to the cabin, and attempted calmly to surrender myself to
Him who made me. My thoughts--oh, how they flew at once to my wife and
children at home! I attempted to pray, and for the first time since I
had left my pious mother. I _did_ pray--for my family first--and oh how
fervently, in closing my supplications, I besought for myself pardon and
forgiveness through Him who is ever ready to hear the penitent!

The water had now got on to the cabin floor, I therefore placed myself
on the stairs leading on deck. Shortly after this the wind shifted, and
in a few minutes the ship struck with a tremendous crash. I rushed on
deck, and at once saw rocks fifty feet high, and perpendicular, but a
few feet from the after part of the ship, which now soon filled with
water, and rolled over toward the land. At its fore part, and at the
only point where we could by any possibility have been saved, the rocks
descended gradually, and the foremast leaned over them. Not a moment was
to be lost. We crawled up the rigging, and, swinging ourselves on to the
rocks, made our way up the precipice on our hands and feet, and,
reaching the summit, at once sought, in holes in the rock, shelter from
the tempest, which still continued so violent that no one could stand
upon his feet.

Our escape happened about ten o'clock in the morning; at five in the
afternoon the gale had so moderated that we could stand. We then crawled
out from our hiding places, and, assembling together, found that all
were safe except my brother, who was mate of the ship, and he, we
supposed, was lost, in attempting to get on shore. We soon, as was very
natural, approached the precipice to learn the fate of the ship. Nothing
was to be seen of her but plank, timbers, spars, sails, and rigging, all
in one confused, broken mass, and washing up against the rocks. It was
truly to us a most deplorable spectacle. We had no resource in the
vessel; not a thing of value was left.

As night was approaching, we now walked along before the wind toward the
south part of the island, and there found, by the side of a huge pile of
rocks, a hole or sort of cave, about eight feet square and five feet
high. Here we all crawled in, wet and cold, but with hearts grateful to
God for our wonderful preservation. As we were packed very close to each
other, the natural warmth of our bodies soon relieved us considerably
from the sensation of wetness and cold, and we passed the night as
comfortably as our varied miseries would allow.

Morning came, and we left our cave. The gale had much abated, and we
could see some distance. We found that we were on a small desolate
island, about a mile long, half a mile wide, and about ten miles from
the place we left the day before. It was covered mostly with huge rocks,
with here and there a small patch of soil, overrun with prickly pear,
and inhabited by no living animal excepting lizards and small poisonous
snakes. We had been now over twenty-four hours without food or water. Of
the latter article, on searching around, we found a little in the
hollows on the rocks, but it was about half salt, having been made so by
the spray which the gale had thrown from the ocean quite over the
island, and the more we drank of it the more thirsty we became. As to
food, we were soon convinced that this was out of the question. Toward
night, we found a cask near the beach, standing on one end, with one
head out, which held about two gallons of water, that had rained in.
This was not salt, but smelled badly. We, however, scooped out with our
hands about one half of it, and left what remained for the next day. We
got some relief from this, and then we returned to our former
resting-place for the night.

When we crawled out on the following morning we found that the weather
had become fine and clear. We could see vessels passing at a short
distance from us, but had no means of making any signal, nor any for
leaving the shore. This being the third day of our distress and
privation, some of us began to suffer much from hunger. Others suffered
more from thirst. We, however, cheered each other with the faint hope
that some thing would appear for our relief. We wandered about as we had
done the day before, seeking for water but found none. We had nothing to
dig with but our hands; these we used, but in vain; no water appeared.
Toward night we went to the cask, and drank what remained there. We then
returned again to our cave for the night, all much exhausted and
low-spirited. Despair began to shade every countenance. Very little was
said, and we passed the night well as we could, pressed by hunger and
parched by thirst. Morning came, and again we all left our shelter. The
weather continued fine and clear. The men again separated in search of
water, but being myself very feeble, I took my seat on some rocks near
the cave, at a point from whence I could see every thing moving on the
water, and with a lingering hope that something would appear for our
deliverance.

About ten o'clock, an object loomed up in the distance. I thought it
was a boat, but could not at once tell. It approached, and soon I saw it
distinctly. It _was_ a boat, with one sail, and was steering directly
for a low beach not far from where I was seated. My feelings at this
moment were so overcome that I lost all power of utterance. I could not,
at first, rise from the rock, My strength, however, shortly returned a
little, and I got up and made all the noise I could. Some of the men
near at hand heard me, and came up. I at once pointed to the boat, which
was now near the shore. They shouted to their companions, and we were
all soon at the beach near where the boat was landed. A black man got
out of the boat, and came to me with a letter--but, before reading it, I
besought him for water. To my surprise he had none, but instead of it
had a bottle of rum and a small bag of biscuit. I told him to bring
these on shore, and, taking them, I gave each of my crew a swallow of
the rum and a biscuit. This had the effect of moistening a little our
parched mouths and tongues. I then opened the letter. It was from my
warm and faithful friend Mr. Tucker, of Turk's Island, and it read as
follows, omitting my name:

"To Captain ----, or any other unfortunate person or persons who may be
found on any of the neighboring islands. Come as many as can safely
and, should any be left, I will find means to convey those that remain."

The two men, who came in the boat, hesitated about taking all of us at
once, as we were nine in number, and with themselves might overload the
boat. We could not, however, bear the thought of leaving any behind. We
therefore all got aboard, shoved off, and made sail. We had a fair wind,
and a smooth sea, and at six o'clock arrived safely at the harbor we had
left. Many persons ran to the beach to meet us as we landed, and among
the rest was our deliverer, Mr. Tucker.

The next morning, my friend and deliverer gave me a brief history of
what had taken place with himself and his fellow-inhabitants on the
island, during the gale. Many of their houses were levelled to the
ground, and some were blown into the sea. Their cisterns, their only
dependence for water, were mostly destroyed. Even the cannon mounted on
a small battery were dismounted, and most of the inhabitants were in
great distress. Every vessel and boat, that floated about the island,
were blown to sea or destroyed. Out of the twenty vessels that were at
the island on which Mr. Tucker lived, when the gale came on, only six
were heard ever from after. Five out of these six were wrecked on
adjacent islands, and every soul on board three of these perished. The
gale was said, by the oldest inhabitants, to be the most violent ever
known in that region. We remained on the island ten or twelve days, and
then, taking passage in a ship bound for New York, reached that city
safely on the last of November.



A TUSSLE WITH A WILDCAT.

In 1781, Lexington, Ky., was only a cluster of cabins, one of which,
near the spot where the courthouse now stands, was used as a
schoolhouse. One morning, in May, McKinley, the teacher, was sitting
alone at his desk, busily engaged in writing, when, hearing a slight
noise at the door, he turned and beheld an enormous wildcat, with her
fore feet upon the step, her tail curled over her back, her bristles
erect, and her eyes glaring rapidly about the room, as if in search of
a mouse.

McKinley's position at first completely concealed him, but a slight and
involuntary motion of his chair attracted the cat's attention, and their
eyes met, McKinley, having heard much of the powers of "the human face
divine," in quelling the audacity of wild animals, attempted to
disconcert the intruder by a frown. But puss was not to be bullied. Her
eyes flashed fire, her tail waved angrily, and she began to gnash her
teeth. She was evidently bent on mischief. Seeing his danger, McKinley
hastily rose, and attempted to snatch a cylindrical rule from a table
which stood within reach, but the cat was too quick for him.

Darting furiously upon him, she fastened upon his side with her teeth,
and began to rend and tear with her claws. McKinley's clothes were soon
in tatters, and his flesh dreadfully mangled by the enraged animal,
whose strength and ferocity filled him with astonishment. He in vain
attempted to disengage her from his side. Her long, sharp teeth were
fastened between his ribs, and his efforts served but to enrage her the
more. Seeing his blood flow very copiously from the numerous wounds in
his side, he became seriously alarmed, and, not knowing what else to do,
he threw himself upon the edge of the table, and pressed her against the
sharp corner with the whole weight of his body.

The cat now began to utter the most wild and discordant cries, and
McKinley, at the same time, lifting up his voice in concert, the two
together sent forth notes so doleful as to alarm the whole town. Women,
who are generally the first to hear and spread news, were now the first
to come to McKinley's assistance. But so strange and unearthly was the
harmony within the schoolhouse, that they hesitated long before
venturing to enter. At length, the boldest of them rushed in, and,
seeing poor McKinley bending ever the corner of the table, she at first
supposed that he was laboring under a severe fit of the colic; but
quickly perceiving the cat, which was now in the agonies of death, she
screamed out, "Why, good heavens, Mr. McKinley, what is the matter?"

"I have caught a cat, madam!" he gravely replied, turning round, while
the sweat streamed from his face under the mingled operations of fright,
fatigue, and pain.

Most of the neighbors had now arrived. They attempted to disengage the
dead cat; but so firmly were her tusks locked between his ribs, that
this was a work of no small difficulty. McKinley suffered severely for a
time from the effects of his wounds, but at length fully recovered, and
lived to a good old age. He was heard to say, that of all the pupils
that ever came to his school, the wildcat was the most intractable; that
he would at any time rather fight two Indians than one wildcat.



AN INCIDENT IN FRONTIER LIFE

A daughter of Boone's, and a Miss Galloway, were amusing themselves in
the immediate neighborhood of the fort, when a party of Indians rushed
from a canebrake, and, intercepting their return, took them prisoners.
The screams of the terrified girls quickly alarmed the family. Boone
hastily collected a party of eight men, and pursued the enemy. So much
time, however, had been lost, that the Indians had got several miles the
start of them. The pursuit was urged through the night with great
keenness by woodsmen capable of following a trail at all times. On the
following day they came up with the fugitives, and fell upon them so
suddenly and so furiously as to allow them no leisure for tomahawking
their prisoners. The girls were rescued, without having sustained any
other injury than excessive fright and fatigue. The Indians lost two
men, while Boone's party was uninjured.

[Illustration: THE PURSUIT]



FEMALE INTREPIDITY.

In 1782, Wheeling was besieged by a large number of British and Indians.
So sudden and unexpected was the attack, that no time was afforded for
preparation. The fort, at the period of the assault was commanded by
Colonel Silas Zane. The senior officer, Colonel Ebenezer Zane, was in a
blockhouse some fifty or a hundred yards outside of the wall. The enemy
made several desperate assaults to break into the fort, but at every
onset they were driven back. The ammunition for the defence of the fort
was deposited in the blockhouse, and there had not been time to remove
it before the Indians approached.

On the afternoon of the second day of the siege, the powder of the fort
was nearly exhausted, and no alternative remained, but for some one to
pass through the enemy's fire to the blockhouse, in order to obtain a
supply. When Silas Zane made the proposition to the men, asking if any
one would undertake the hazardous enterprise, all at first were silent.
After looking at one another for some time, a young man stepped
forward, and said he would undertake the errand. Immediately, half a
dozen offered their services in the dangerous enterprise.

While they were disputing as to who should go, Elizabeth, sister of the
Zanes, came forward and declared, that she would go for the powder. Her
brother thought she would flinch from the enterprise, but he was
mistaken. She had the intrepidity to dare, and the fortitude to
accomplish the undertaking. Her brother then tried to dissuade her from
her heroic purpose, by saying that a man would be more fleet, and
consequently would run less risk of losing his life.

She replied, that they had not a man to spare from the defence of the
fort, and that if she should fall, she would scarcely be missed. Then
divesting herself of such articles of clothing as would impede the
celerity of her flight, she prepared to start.

The gate was opened, and Elizabeth bounded out at the top of her speed,
and ran until she arrived at the door of the blockhouse. Her brother,
Colonel Zane, hastened to open the door to his intrepid sister. The
Indians did not fire a gun, but exclaimed, as if in astonishment,
"_Squaw! squaw! squaw_!"

When she had told her errand, her brother took a tablecloth, fastened it
around her waist, and poured into it a keg of powder. She then sallied
back to the fort, in high spirits. The moment she was outside of the
blockhouse, the whole of the enemy's line fired at her, but the shower
of balls fell without doing her any injury. She reached the fort in
safety, and the garrison was, in consequence, enabled successfully to
repel their savage foe. Such an instance of female daring is worthy of
all commemoration.



FEARFUL ENCOUNTER WITH ROBBERS.

The Madrid papers recite the particulars of a terrific scene which took
place on the 14th of August, 1851, at the house of Don Diego Garcia, an
old nobleman, who resided in the vicinity of that capital:

The night was dark and tempestuous. The rain poured down in torrents,
and induced the night-watch, who had been reinforced since the recent
augmentations of crime in the environs of the capital, to keep close to
their quarters. The roads were completely deserted, and at long
intervals only the shadow of a human figure flitted past the huge
portals of Don Diego's mansion, in anxious haste toward its habitation.

Juan Munoz, the Don's old valet, had been sent to this city, by his
master, and was now making the best of his way home. His errand to the
capital had been to procure some medicine which his master had been
ordered to take, he being at the time violently afflicted by the gout.
Juan, as we have said, was picking his way, as best he could, through
the deluged streets and roads, when, just as he came in sight of the
mansion, he heard the voices of a number of men behind him, and
supposing them to be a party of his fellow-servants who had been sent in
search of him, since he had been much later than he expected to be, he
drew back into an open recess to await their approach. He discovered
that he was deceived in his expectations; the men were strangers to him,
or, at least, he did not know their voices, but, while passing him, he
plainly heard the name of his master pronounced by one of their number,
and, stepping forward, he asked if they wished to see Don Diego that
night. The men seemed perfectly stupefied by his sudden apparition, but
they soon recovered from their surprise, and, after ascertaining that he
was alone, he was politely asked to go before them and show the way.
Scarcely had he proceeded a dozen yards; when a violent blow on the head
laid him prostrate; a knife was then twice thrust into his breast, and
the lifeless body was hurled into the middle of the road.

It was close upon midnight, when the wife of Don Diego, while tending
her sick husband, was startled by a noise from the adjoining room. She
immediately rang the bell, and was answered by the major domo, the only
servant who had not retired to rest, being determined to await the
return of Juan. As he entered, the door leading to the ante-chamber was
also quickly opened, and on the threshold appeared five masked men, who
were evidently unprepared to find more than one inmate in the sick
chamber. Quick as thought the major-domo attempted to reach the
bell-rope, that by a violent alarm he might awake the sleepers and
obtain their aid, but quicker even than he was the leader of the masked
band, who seized a pistol from his belt, and, with unerring aim,
discharged it at the devoted servant. There was a faint cry: the old
servant stretched out his hands for support, and then, with a heavy
groan, fell to the floor, where death closed his eyes.

This unexpected catastrophe seemed to spur on the robbers to instant
work. While one man was posted at each door, the three others insisted
upon being informed by Don Diego where he kept his money and valuables;
but the sick old man had sank into so complete a lethargy by the
dreadful event which had passed under his eye, that he was unable to
answer them. As rapidity of movement was, however, rendered peremptory
to insure the safety of the band, the chief addressed the Donna for the
same purpose, in answer to which, she evinced but little reluctance, and
bade them to follow her. The robbers at once declared their readiness,
and, after passing along the corridor, entered the dining saloon, where
the Donna pointed out a large box, which, she said, contained the plate.
Here another difficulty arose. The box, which in reality contained the
plate, was securely locked, and the key nowhere to be found. Anxious to
get at the rich booty, the leader, with an angry imprecation, put the
muzzle of his heavy horse-pistol to the lock; a sharp report followed,
and the lid thus unceremoniously opened offered no further obstacle to
the rapacity of the invaders. Donna Ignazia took advantage of the joyful
excitement of the band, and left the room to descend into the lower
story of the mansion, where her hurried summons at the chamber doors of
the servants were readily responded to by them, as they had already been
awoke by the double report in their master's apartments. The tempest,
which had raged so fearfully, had meanwhile ceased; the torrents of rain
were followed by a clear night; the fury of the elements appeared as
though, in momentary rest, they would gather strength for a fresh
outbreak--nature's wrath had given place to the wrath of man.

The inanimate body of Juan Munoz had been discovered by a patrolling
body of soldiery, who carried it to the guard-house. The stabs were
found to be of minor consequence, and the blow on the head, although it
had caused a very severe wound, had occasioned only a temporary loss of
consciousness. It must be borne in mind, that two hours had nearly
elapsed between the assault upon Munoz and the entrance into the house
by the robbers, which time had probably been spent by them in various
efforts to gain access. Strong restoratives, judiciously applied, soon
brought back animation, and, shortly afterward, Munoz could give a
confused narrative of what had befallen him. The officer on duty at once
saw through the scheme, and gave orders to proceed to the mansion of Don
Diego, which they reached at the precise moment when Donna Ignazia, with
an armed body of her own servants, was leading them to the dining
saloon. The summons of the officer at the front door was followed by a
dead silence on the part of the robbers: but when they heard the
measured tramp of the soldiery on the stair-case, they sought for means
of instant flight. This, however, had been provided for; a portion of
the military had surrounded the house, while the others, reinforced by
the servants, approached. The only chance then left to the brigands was
to cut their way through, or sell their lives as dearly as possible. In
an instant the huge oaken doors of the saloon were closed and barred,
the lights were extinguished, the windows opened, and everything made
ready for the last desperate chance. Fortune favored them; for the
soldiery, not anticipating a leap of their enemies from the high
windows, withdrew their sentinels from there in order to make them guard
the side and rear outlets of the mansion. Two of the bold ruffians had
already made their descent by means of tablecloths, tied together, when
the alarm was given. The soldiers rushed to the spot--a third robber was
clinging to the frail chance for life, and was rapidly descending, but a
well-directed shot bereft him of strength, and, after a few frantic
efforts to retain his hold, he fell heavily to the ground. His two
comrades made a firm stand: but vain was their boldness against the
numbers of assailants, and in a few moments they fell, grievously
wounded, into the hands of the victors.

Two more only remained of this desperate band, and the fact of their
being shielded by strong bolts massive walls, rendered them no
insignificant enemies. Ladders were placed against the windows, but the
true aim of the keen-eyed brigands made four successive shots tell with
appalling effect, since each of them laid low one of their assailants.
At last an attack upon the doors was resolved upon, and soon the heavy
blows of the ponderous axe resounded from the massive panels. One door
gave way: there was a stunning crash, followed by reports of fire-arms,
cries of agony, and the dull sound of falling victims. Again the numbers
were successful, but in this instance the victims knew no mercy, and,
when at last the tumult ceased, the mutilated corpses of the two
brigands could hardly be recognized from three of their late assailants.

The man who had been shot while descending from the window was found to
be quite dead, the ball having entered his heart. The two survivors were
subsequently identified as Ramon Gomez, and Pietro Vaga, better known as
"the Hunchback," two of the most notorious highwaymen and burglars, for
whose apprehension a large reward had been offered.



SHIPWRECK OF THE MONTICELLO.

J.V. Brown, Esq., Editor of the Lake Superior Journal, who was on board
the Monticello, gives the following graphic account of the disaster:

It becomes our painful duty to record the most perilous shipwreck that
has ever occurred on Lake Superior, and having been a passenger on board
the Monticello at the time, we are enabled to give all the particulars
in relation to the loss of the vessel, and the hardships of the
passengers and crew. We went on board the Ontonagon on the afternoon of
the 22d September, 1851, on her return from Fond du Lac. She left the
river at half-past five o'clock bound for the Sault, with about one
hundred persons, twenty tons of copper from the Minnesota mine, and a
few barrels of fish from La Pointe, and in coming out of the harbor one
of the wheels struck a floating log very heavily, and it is supposed to
have loosened the packing boxes around one of the shafts.--She lay on
the bar a few minutes on her way out, but the sea at that time was
light, and we cannot think it possible that she sprang a leak from the
effects of the slight pounding on the light sand.

[Illustration: LOSS OF THE MONTICELLO.]

We had been out about half an hour, when the firemen discovered the
water rising around the floors of the engine; they communicated the fact
to Capt. Wilson, and it was made known to the passengers, but the leak
was not thought to be serious, and created but very little alarm. The
pump was put into operation, and on examination the captain and engineer
seemed confident that the pump would keep her clear till we could run
down to Eagle harbor, a distance of sixty miles; but it was soon
discovered, that the water was fast gaining on the pump, and
preparations were made immediately for raising water by means of barrels
and buckets.

The wind was blowing at first from the westward, but soon changed to the
northwest--it was fresh but fair, and aided by sails and all the steam
that it was prudent to carry, she came on at a rapid rate, still keeping
on her course, in hopes to make the harbor. The passengers and crew
worked steadily at the pumps, but the water continued gradually to gain
on them. The most of the copper and all the other freight was thrown
overboard with a hearty good will--the wealth of the mine seeming of but
little consequence at such a time. Every possible means were employed to
raise water, and every passenger assisted to the utmost of his strength
and ability to keep the sinking vessel afloat. Two pumps, three
barrels, and a half dozen pails were constantly in motion, and still the
water gained steadily, but surely, on their efforts.

We had now been out about three hours, the wind and waves constantly
increasing, when it was found, there was little hope of reaching Eagle
harbor; the water had risen nearly to the fires, and was fast gaining
ground, notwithstanding all the exertions of those on board. After
remaining on her course a few minutes longer, the boat was headed toward
the land, and new efforts were put forth to encourage all on board to
assist at the pumps and barrels. By this time there was three feet of
water or more in the hold, and she moved and rolled heavily through the
seas, the wood having to be shifted from one side of the vessel to the
other, to keep her in trim.

One fire after the other was rolled into the water, and it became
evident to the most hopeful that they would be extinguished entirely,
and it was still thought, the wind would take her in under the land even
if the steam should fail. It was not long before the fires were reported
out--the engines worked lazily for a short time, the clicking of the
valves became faint and less frequent, and finally, like the dying
struggle of a strong man, it ceased altogether.

Wearied with incessant exertions at the pumps, many gave out and
retired to the cabins, seeming to prefer rest to escape from the watery
grave into which they were fast sinking. Some were even forced into the
hold, to fill barrels and pails, and new efforts were put forth to
induce the suffering crew and passengers to hold out an hour longer,
with the assurance that we could reach land in that time. With this
hope, and that influence which strong minds always exert under such
circumstances, many took hold again of the pumps with a kind of
desperate exertion, and for a time they even gained on the water. There
was another circumstance which encouraged them to work. The boat being
careened on one side by the sails, one of the fires was partially out of
water, and a fire was kindled again by means of dry wood, oil, and the
most combustible matter the boat afforded. This not only assisted our
progress toward the land, but it stimulated the passengers to new
exertions.

The fires were in this way kindled and extinguished several times, and
all felt that they owed much to the irregular exertion of the engines
for their preservation, especially as the wind for some time died away,
so as to scarcely fill the sails. For two long hours the water-logged
vessel drifted in, before soundings could be had. In this region it was
well known, that the coast was rocky, and dangerous for landing, and the
night was too dark to enable the pilot to distinguish one place from
another. A heavy sea rolled in upon the shore, and it seemed like
madness to attempt a landing under such circumstances. Accordingly,
Captain Wilson decided to come to anchor, and endeavor to keep the
vessel afloat till daylight; and as soon as we came into six fathoms
water the anchors were let go, and she swung round heavily in the
furious waves, that threatened speedily to complete the work of
destruction.

Several insane attempts had been thwarted for cutting away the boats,
which, had they succeeded, we doubt not, would have proved certain
destruction to nine-tenths of all on board; for if the boats had not
been swamped at once, they would undoubtedly have been dashed to pieces
on the rock-bound shore, leaving others to swim ashore as best they
might. The pumping and bailing were continued with the last energies of
a noble crew--two or three hours more would bring the light of another
day, and it was understood that an attempt would be made to land as soon
as it was daylight.

The time wore tediously away, and the passengers and crew were too much
exhausted to keep down the water, and still they labored to do so with
what strength they had left. Some time before daylight the wind changed
to the north; and commenced blowing hard directly upon the shore, and
the sea increased rapidly, oftentimes washing into the hatchways where
the men were at work bailing, and it became evident to all, that the
vessel could be kept afloat only for a short time longer.

At five o'clock it was light enough to see that it was a bold rocky
shore, against which the waves dashed high and furiously, but it was too
late to choose a place for landing, and the captain ordered the anchors
raised. Her bow swung around to the east and in fifteen minutes she
struck heavily on the solid rock, about three hundred yards from the
shore. The men kept at work pumping and bailing till she struck, when
the waves at once swept in upon her deck and filled the hold.

The largest of the two yawls happened to be on the lee side, and it was
soon lowered away, and with a line long enough to reach the land, the
first and second mates, Messrs. Lucas and Barney, W.T. Westbrook, and
one of the crew, started for the shore. The line was made fast to a
tree, and they commenced the far more difficult and dangerous task of
returning. The little boat seemed to be engulphed by every breaker that
it met on its way, and none but strong and true hands could have saved
the boat in this emergency, and no one unaccustomed to the dangers of
the sea, can imagine the nerve necessary to manage a boat under such
circumstances.

The smaller boat, after much difficulty and delay, was got around under
the lee and bailed out, but it swamped the first trip ashore, and was
not used afterward. By constant, and untiring exertions, the passengers
and crew were all landed at half-past eight o'clock, and after securing
the shattered boats, as best they could, on the steep side of the rocky
shore, they gathered around the fires, to look upon the miserable plight
of one another. All were drenched with the water in coming ashore, cold
and hungry, worn out by the fatigues of the night and morning, they
lopped down around the fires, the sorriest looking gathering that it had
ever been our misfortune to witness.

All had been so anxious in seeing the passengers and crew landed safely,
that they had not thought about providing for our future wants, and
nothing in the shape of provisions or baggage had been brought ashore.
After they had looked around them for a few moments, the boat was again
manned and the wreck was again explored for provisions, and a few pounds
of hard bread, part of a quarter of fresh beef and some boiled beef were
brought in, which was as one remarked, a "poor show" for a lunch for so
many sharp appetites. After having eaten this mouthful we proposed to
start with as many as possible for Eagle river, which was judged to be
about thirty-five miles distant, and a party of twenty-two in number
set out.

It was noon when we started, with our clothes still wet and heavy, and
little or nothing to eat. We worked our way slowly through the cedar
swamp; over logs and under logs, up ravines and down ravines, a crooked,
trackless, toilsome way, till the middle of the afternoon, when we met
two of our fellow passengers on their way back to the wreck. They had
been on some distance further, but worn out with the hardships of their
journey and hunger, they had turned back disheartened, and advised us to
do the same. But we decided to go on, and on we went, through the worst
cedar swamps in the world, till the thick woods began to grow dark with
the shades of evening, and till a number of the party became completely
exhausted with fatigue and hunger. We then concluded to encamp for the
night, although we could not have traveled in all the afternoon over
five miles, or about a mile an hour.

Without an axe, a few sticks were collected, and two or three poor fires
were kindled. All the bits of hard bread, and fresh beef, in all a
scanty meal for one person's supper, was produced and rationed out to
the twenty-two persons. Every one ate as sparingly as possible, and as
we were without tents, we lay down on the cold ground in our wet clothes
before the fire, and dozed and shivered with cold till daylight. As soon
as we could see to travel, we proceeded on our toilsome way, and after
walking about a mile we came to the trail that leads from Lake Superior
to Portage Lake, and saw two or three Indians pushing out through the
surf a bark canoe, which they soon jumped into and paddled away before
the wind. We tried to induce them to return, in hopes to procure
something from them to satisfy our craving hunger, but they scarcely
deigned to look back.

Some of our party had been from this trail to Eagle river, and it was
some consolation to meet with a land mark that was known. We now
commenced walking along the beach, which was composed of large pebbles,
covered in many places with logs and trees that had washed or tumbled in
from off the overhanging banks, making it as tiresome walking as can
well be imagined. Frequently, in order to keep the beach, we were
obliged to walk within reach of the dash of the waves, and were drenched
with the cold flood.

About two miles east of the Portage trail, we discovered near the edge
of the bank, which was some ten feet above the lake, the remains of a
human being. The clothes of a man, in a good state of preservation, half
covered the bleaching bones, the sad, sickening, unburied relics of some
poor "shipwrecked brother," who had here ended his voyage "o'er life's
stormy main." He had evidently chosen this spot where he could die
looking off upon the lake, from whence no succor came, and where he
could be easily discovered by the passer by. A description was taken by
one of our party of his clothes and the few articles found on them, and
we learned on inquiring at Eagle river, that they were undoubtedly the
remains of a Mr. Mathews, who got lost from the Algonquin mine a few
weeks previous. A brother of the deceased repaired to the spot as soon
as possible and brought down the remains for burial at Eagle harbor.

The morning had not far advanced when a number of our party began to lag
behind, exhausted from the effects of hunger and weakness, and it was
evident that some would have to be left behind, while some of the others
might possibly reach Eagle river that day and send assistance. We
confidently expected to find some provisions in a warehouse at Gratiot
river, twelve miles from Eagle river, and all had hopes to reach there
before night. A few of our party pushed forward as fast as possible, to
procure food and fires for those behind, but great was our
disappointment not to find a particle of provisions at that place.

We kindled a fire, and rested for a few minutes, till a number of our
party came up, the larger number being still far behind. It now became
more important than ever that some one should reach Eagle river, and
seven of our number determined to make the trial. We had now twelve
miles further to go, and in our miserable condition we traveled but
slowly, but the trail grew better as we proceeded, and we came in sight
of Eagle River about four o'clock in the afternoon, and under the
circumstances, a more pleasant, inviting village we do not recollect
ever to have seen before. Four or five of our party came through the
same evening, and a few others of another party came in the next day
with similar hardships.

On the Tuesday following, Capt. McKay with the schooner Algonquin,
proceeded to the wreck, and brought off the captain, crew, and remaining
passengers, and all that could be saved of valuable property.



A JUNGLE RECOLLECTION.

The hot season of 1849 was peculiarly oppressive, and the irksome
garrison duty, at Cherootabad, in the south of India, had for many
months been unusually severe. The colonel of my regiment, the brigadier,
and the general, having successively acceded to my application for three
weeks' leave, and that welcome fact having been duly notified in orders,
it was not long before I found myself on the Coimbatore road, snugly
packed, guns and all, in a country bullock cart, lying at full length on
a mattress, with a thick layer of straw spread under it.

All my preparations had been made beforehand; relays of bullocks were
posted for me at convenient intervals, and I arrived at Goodaloor, a
distance of a hundred and ten miles, in rather more than forty
eight hours.

Goodaloor is a quiet little village, about eleven miles from
Coimbatore;--but don't suppose I was going to spend my precious three
weeks there.

All loaded, and pony saddled, let us start: the two white cows and their
calves; the mattress and blanket rolled up and carried on a Cooly's
head Shikaree, horsekeeper, and a village man, with the three guns,
while I, myself, bring up the rear. Over a few ploughed fields, and past
that large banian tree, the jungle begins.

In a small clump of low jungle, on the sloping bank of a broad, sandy
watercourse, the casual passer-by would not have perceived a snug and
tolerably strong little hut--the white ends of the small branches that
were laid over it, and the mixture of foliage, alone revealing the fact
to the observant eye of a practiced woodman. No praise could be too
strong to bestow on the faithful Shikaree; had I chosen the spot myself,
after a weeks' survey of the country, it could not have been more
happily selected.

To the deeply-rooted stump of a young tree on the opposite bank, one of
the white cows had been made fast by a double cord passed twice around
her horns. Nothing remains to be done: the little door is fastened
behind me, the prickly acacia boughs are piled up against it on the
outside, and my people are anxious to be off.

The poor cow, too, listens with dismay to the retreating footsteps of
the party, and has already made some furious plunges to free herself,
and rejoin the rest of the kine, who have been driven off, nothing
loth, toward home. Watch her: how intently she stares along the path by
which the people have deserted her. Were it not for the occasional stamp
of her fore leg, or the impatient side-toss of the head, to keep off the
swarming flies, she might be carved out of marble. And now a fearful and
anxious gaze up the bed of the nullah, and into the thick fringe of
Mimoso, one ear pricked and the other back alternately, show that
_instinct_ has already whispered the warning of impending danger.
Another plunge to get loose, and a searching gaze up the path; see her
sides heave. Now comes what we want--that deep low! It echoes again
among the hills: another and another. Poor wretch! you are hastening
your doom; far or near, the tiger hears you--under the rock or thicket,
where he has lain since morning, sheltered from the scorching sun, his
ears flutter as if they were tickled every time he hears that music; his
huge, green eyes, heretofore half closed, are now wide open, and, alas!
poor cow, gaze truly enough in thy direction; but he has not stirred
yet, and nobody can say in what direction giant death will yet
stalk forth.

The moon is up--all nature still; the cow, again on her legs, is
restless, and evidently frightened. Oh! reader, even if you have the
soul of a Shikaree, I despair of being able to convey in words a tithe
of the sensations of that solitary vigil: a night like that is to be
enjoyed but seldom--a red-letter day in one's existence.

Where is the man who has never experienced the poetic influence of a
moonlight scene! Fancy, then, such a one as here described; a crescent
of low hills--craggy, steep, and thickly wooded--around you, on three
sides, and above them, again, at twenty miles' distance, the clear blue
outline of the Neilgherry hills; in your front, the silver sand bed of
the dry watercourse divides the thick and somber jungle with a stream of
light, till you lose it in the deep shadows at the foot of the
hills--all quiet, all still, all bathed in the light of the moon,
yourself the only man for miles to come, a solitary watcher--your only
companion the poor cow, who, full of fears, and suspicious at every
leaf-fall, reminds you that a terrible struggle is about to take place
within a few feet of your bed, and that there will be noise and
confusion, when you must be cool and collected. Your little kennel would
not be strong enough to resist a determined charge, and you are alone,
if three good guns are not true friends.

Oh! that I could express sounds on paper as music is written in notes.
No, reader, you must do as I have done--you must be placed in a similar
situation, to hear and enjoy the terrible roar of a hungry tiger--not
from afar off, and listened for, but close at hand, and unexpected. It
was like an electric shock;--a moment ago I was dozing off, and the cow,
long since laid down, appeared asleep; that one roar had not died away
among the hills when she had scrambled on her legs, and stood with
elevated head, stiffened limbs, tail raised, and breath suspended,
staring, full of terror, in the direction of the sound. As for the
biped, with less noise, and even more alacrity, he had grasped his "Sam
Nock," whose polished barrels just rested on the lower ledge of the
little peep-hole; perhaps his eyes were as round as saucers, and heart
beating fast and strong.

Now for the struggle;--pray heaven that I am cool and calm, and do not
fire in a hurry, for one shot will either lose or secure my
well-earned prize.

There he is again! evidently in that rugged, stony watercourse, which
runs parallel, and about two hundred yards behind the hut. But what is
that? Yes, lightning: two flashes in quick succession, and a cold stream
of air is rustling through the half-withered leaves of my ambush. Taking
a look to the rear, through an accidental opening among the leaves, it
was plain that a storm, or, as it would be called at sea, a squall, was
brewing. An arch of black cloud was approaching from the westward, and,
the rain descending, gave it the appearance of a huge black comb, the
teeth reaching to the earth. The moon, half obscured, showed a white
mist as far as the rain had reached. Then was heard in the puffs of air,
the hissing of the distant but approaching downpour: more
lightning--then some large heavy drops plashed on the roof, and it was
raining cats and dogs.

How the scene was changed! Half an hour ago, solemn, and still, and
wild, as nature rested, unpolluted, undefaced, unmarked by man--sleeping
in the light of the moon, all was tranquillity; the civilized man lost
his idiosyncrasy in its contemplation--forgot nation, pursuits,
creed--he felt that he was Nature's child, and adored the God of Nature.

But the beautiful was now exchanged for the sublime, when that scene
appeared lit up suddenly and awfully by lightning, which now momentarily
exchanged a sheet of intensely dazzling blue light, with a darkness
horrible to endure--a light which showed the many streams of water,
which now appeared like ribbons over the smooth slabs of rod that lay on
the slope of the hills, and gave a microscopic accuracy of outline to
every object, exchanged as suddenly for a darkness, which for the
moment might be supposed the darkness of extinction--of utter
annihilation--while the crash of thunder over head rolled over the
echoes of the hills, "I am the Lord thy God."

The storm was at length over, the nullah run dry again. Damp and sleepy,
with arms folded and eyes sometimes open, but often shut, I kept an
indifferent watch, when the cow, struggling on her legs, and a groan,
brought me to my senses. There they were. It was no dream. A large
tiger, holding her just behind the ears, shaking her like a fighting
dog. By the doubtful light of the watery moon, did I calmly and
noiselessly run out the muzzle of my rifle.

I saw him, without quitting his grip of the cow's neck, leap over her
back more than once. She sank to the earth, and he lifted her up again.
At the first opportunity, I pulled trigger. The left hand missed, I
tried the right--it went off--bang!

Whether a hanging fire is an excuse or not, the tiger relinquished his
hold and was off with a bound. The cow staggered and struggled, and, in
few seconds, fell, and, with a heavy groan, ceased to move. The tiger
had killed the cow within a few feet of me, and escaped scathless.

Night after night did I watch for his return. I had almost despaired
of seeing him again, when, one night, about eleven o'clock,
my ears caught the echo among the rocks, and then the distant
roar--nearer--nearer--nearer; and--oh, joy!--answered. Tiger and
tigress!--above all hope!--coming to recompense me for hundreds of night
watchings--to balance a long account of weary nights in the silent
jungle, in platforms on trees, in huts of leaf and bramble, and in damp
pits on the water's edge--all bootless; coming--coming--nearer
and nearer.

Music nor words, dear reader, can stand me in any stead to convey the
sound to you; the first note like the trumpet of a peacock, and the rest
the deepest toned thunder. Stones and gravel rattled just behind the hut
on the path by which we came, and went, and a heavy step passed and
descended the slope into the nullah. I heard the sand crunching under
his weight before I dared to look. A little peep. Oh, heavens! looming
in the moonlight, there he stood, long, sleek as satin, and lashing his
tail--he stood stationary, smelling the slaughtered cow. No longer the
cautious, creeping tiger, I felt how awful a brute he was to offend. I
remembered how he had worried a strong cow in half a minute, and that,
with his weight alone, my poor rickety little citadel would fall to
pieces. As if the excitement of the moment was insufficient, the
monster, gazing down the dry watercourse, caught sight of his
companion, who, advancing up the bed of the nullah, stood irresolutely
about twenty yards off. The bully, who was evidently the male, after
smelling at the head, came round the carcass, making a sort of
complaisant purring--"humming a kind of animal song," and to it he went
tooth and nail.

As he stood with his two fore feet on the haunch, while he tugged and
tore out a beef-steak, I once more grasped old "Sam Nock," and ran the
muzzle out of the little port. The white linen band marked a line behind
his shoulders, and rather low, but, from the continued motion of his
body, it was some moments before eye and finger agreed to pull
trigger--bang! A shower of sand rattled on the dry leaves, and a roar of
rage and pain satisfied me, even before the white smoke, which hung in
the still air, had cleared away, to show the huge monster writhing and
plunging where he had fallen. Either directed by the fire, or by some
slight noise made in the agitation of the moment, he saw me, and, with a
hideous yell, scrambled up: the roaring thunder of his voice filled the
valley, and the echoes among the hills answered it, with the hootings of
tribes of monkeys, who, scared out of sleep, sought the highest
branches, at the sound of the well-known voice of the tyrant of the
jungle. I immediately perceived, to my great joy, that his hind quarters
were paralyzed and useless, and that all danger was out of the
question. He sank down again on his elbows, and as he rested his now
powerless limbs, I saw the blood welling out of a wound in the loins, as
it shone in the moonlight, and trickled off his sleek-painted hide, like
globules of quicksilver. As I looked into his countenance, I saw all the
devil alive there. The will remained--the power only had gone. It was a
sight never to be forgotten. With head raised to the full stretch of his
neck, he glared at me with an expression of such malignity, that it
almost made one quail. I thought of the native superstition of singeing
off the whiskers of the newly killed tiger to lay his spirit, and no
longer wondered at it. With ears back, and mouth bleeding, he growled
and roared in fitful uncertainty, as if he were trying, but unable, to
measure the extent of the force that had laid him low.

Motionless myself, provocation ceased, and without further attempt to
get on his legs, he continued to gaze on me; when I slowly lowered my
head to the sight, and again pulled trigger. This time, true to the
mark, the ball entered just above the breastbone, and the smoke cleared
off with his death-groan. There he lay, foot to foot with his victim of
last night, motionless--dead. My first impulse was to tear down the door
behind, and get a thorough view of his proportions; but remembering
that his companion, the tigress, had vanished only a short time ago
close to the scene of action, I thought it as well to remain where I
was; so, enlarging the windows with my hands, I took a long look, and
then jovially attacked the coffee without reference to noise, and fell
back on the mattress to sleep, or to think the night's work over. "At
last, I have got him: his skin will be pegged out to-morrow, drying
before the tent door." When my people came in the morning, they found me
seated on the dead tiger. Coolies were sent for to carry the beast, and
I gave the pony his reins all the way back to the tent.

FRASER'S MAGAZINE


[Illustration: ATTACK ON BOONESBOROUGH.]


ATTACK OF BOONSBOROUGH.

On the tenth of March, 1778, Daniel Boone, having been taken prisoner by
the Indians, was conducted to Detroit, when Governor Hamilton himself
offered one hundred pounds sterling, for his ransom; but so great was
the affection of the Indians for their prisoner, that it was positively
refused. Boone's anxiety on account of his wife and children was
incessant, and the more intolerable as he dared not excite the
suspicions of his captors by any indication of a wish to return home.

The Indians were now preparing for a violent attack upon the settlements
in Kentucky. Early in June, four hundred and fifty of the choicest
warriors were ready to march against Boonesborough, painted and armed in
a fearful manner. Alarmed at these preparations, he determined to make
his escape. He hunted and shot with the Indians as usual, until the
morning of the sixteenth of June, when, taking an early start, he left
Chillicothe and directed his steps to Boonesborough. The distance
exceeded one hundred and sixty miles, but he performed it in four days,
during which he eat only one meal. He appeared before the garrison like
one risen from the dead. He found the fortress in a bad state, and lost
no time in rendering it more capable of defence. He repaired the flanks,
gates, and posterns, formed double bastions, and completed the whole
in ten days.

On the eighth of August, the enemy appeared. The attack upon the fort
was instantly commenced; and the siege lasted nine days, during which,
an almost incessant firing was kept up. On the twentieth of August, the
enemy retired with a loss of thirty-seven killed and a great many
wounded. This affair was highly creditable to the spirit and skill of
the pioneers.



THRILLING INCIDENTS OF BATTLE.

There is a man now living in East Dixfield, Oxford county, me, who
actually caught in his mouth a ball discharged from a musket. He was at
the battle of Bridgewater, in the war of 1812, and, while biting off the
end of a cartridge, for the purpose of loading his gun, was struck by a
ball, which entered on the left side of his face, knocking out eight of
his teeth, cut off the end of his tongue, and passed into his throat. He
raised it, went to the hospital, staid out the remainder of his
enlistment, and returned home with the bullet in his pocket.

The New Orleans Picayune, one of whose editors was an eye-witness of the
most of the leading battles in Mexico, copies the foregoing paragraph,
and appends to it the following relation:

We can relate an incident even more strange than this. At the siege of
Monterey, in 1846, and, while General Worth's troops were advancing to
storm the small fort, known as La Soldada, a man, named Waters, an
excellent soldier, belonging to Ben McCulloch's Rangers, caught a large
grape-shot directly in his mouth. It was fully the size of a hen's egg,
was rough, uneven in shape, and, in its course, completely carried out
the four upper teeth of the ranger, and part of the jaw, cut off the
four lower teeth, as with a chisel, split his tongue in twain, carried
away his palate, went through the back of his head, and, striking a
tendon, glanced down, and lodged under the skin on the shoulder-blade,
where it was extracted by a surgeon, and safely placed in the pocket of
Waters for future reference.

No man thought the wounded ranger could live, he could swallow neither
food nor water. We saw him two nights afterward, in a room in the
Bishop's Palace, which had been converted into a hospital, sitting bolt
upright among the wounded and the dying--for the nature of his terrible
hurt was such that he could not lie down without suffocating. His face
was swollen to more than twice its ordinary size--he was speechless of
course--his wants were only made known by means of a broken slate and
pencil, and he was slowly applying a wet sponge to his mouth,
endeavoring to extract moisture, which might quench the fever and
intolerable thirst under which he was suffering. By his side lay young
Thomas, of Maryland, a member of the same company, who was mortally
wounded the morning after, and who was now dying. Wounded men, struck
that afternoon in Worth's advance upon the Grand Plaza, were constantly
being brought in, the surgeons were amputating and dressing the hurts of
the crippled soldiers by a pale and sickly candle-light, and the groans
of those in grievous pain added a new horror to the scene, which was at
best frightful. We recollect, perfectly well, a poor fellow struck in
both legs by a grape-shot, while advancing up one of the streets. He was
begging lustily, after one of his limbs had been amputated, that the
other might be spared him, on which to hobble through the world. Poor
Thomas, as gallant a spirit as ever lived, finally breathed his last; we
brought Waters a fresh cup of water with which to moisten his wounds,
and then left the room to catch an hour's sleep; but the recollections
of that terrible night will not soon be effaced from my memory.

The above incident occurred on the night of the 23d and morning of the
24th of September, 1846. During the early part of the month of February
following, while passing into the old St. Charles, in this city, we were
accosted with a strange voice by a fine-looking man, who seemed
extremely glad to see us, although he had a most singular and
unaccountable mode of expressing himself. We recollected the eye as one
we had been familiar with, but the lower features of the face, although
in no way disfigured, for the life of us, we could not make out.

"Why, don't you know me?" in a mumbling, half-indistinct, and forced
manner, said the man, still shaking our hand vigorously. "I'm Waters."

And Waters it was, in reality, looking as well and as healthy as ever,
without showing the least outward sign that he had ever caught a
grape-shot in his mouth. A luxuriant growth of mustaches completely
covered his upper lip, and concealed any scar the iron missile might
have made; an imperial on his under lip hid any appearance of a wound at
that point; and, with the exception of his speech, there was nothing to
show that he had ever received the slightest injury about the face. His
tongue, which was terribly shattered, was still partially benumbed,
rendering articulation both difficult and tiresome; but he assured us he
was every day gaining more and more the use of it, and, in his own
words, he was soon to be "just as good as new"

It is needless to say that we were glad to see him--to meet one we had
never expected to encounter again in such excellent plight. Any one who
could have seen him sitting in that apartment of the Bishop's Palace,
his face swollen, and, with a gravity of countenance, which would have
been ludicrous, even to the causing of laughter, had it not been for his
own precarious situation, and the heart-rending scenes around, would
have been equally as much astonished and rejoiced, as we were, on again
so unexpectedly beholding him.

A correspondent of the "Inquirer" has sent us the following, which is
quite as remarkable as either of the foregoing:

Very extraordinary incidents have been published lately, of shot having
been caught in the mouths of soldiers, in the course of battle, in the
war of 1812, and in the Mexican war; but an incident, perhaps more
remarkable, for the coolness of the individual on the occasion, occurred
at the battle of Fort Drane, fought, in August, 1837, under the command
of the late Col. B.K. Pierce. This was one of the most signal and
desperate engagements of that bloody war. The Seminoles, under their
renowned chief, Osceola, had taken a very commanding position in an
extensive sugar field, near the stockade, strengthened on the east side
by a dense hammock. Three desperate onsets were made during the battle,
and the enemy were finally driven from the field to the protection of
the hammock. During the hottest of the battle, a soldier belonging to
the detachment under the command of Lieut. Pickell, whose position was a
little in advance of the two wings, of the name of Jackson, having just
fired, received a shot from a tall Indian, not twenty yards distant,
which broke through the outer parts of his pantaloons, and lodged in his
right-hand pocket. Feeling the slight sting of the half-spent ball, he
thrust his hand in his pocket, drew out the bullet, and dropped it into
the barrel of his musket, upon the charge of powder he had just before
put in; then, with the unerring aim of a true marksman, leveled his
piece, and, as quick as lightning, his adversary was measured upon the
ground. The wound was fatal--the warrior survived the shot but a
few minutes.

The above is one of the many incidents that occurred in the recent war
with the Florida Indians which, for peril and brave feats, on the part
of the American soldiers and officers, has scarcely ever been equaled.
The above incident is stated as it actually occurred.



A FAMILY ATTACKED BY INDIANS.

On the night of the eleventh of April, 1787, the house of a widow in
Bourbon county, Kentucky, became the scene of a deplorable adventure.
She occupied what was called a double cabin, in a lonely part of the
county. One room was tenanted by the old lady herself, together with two
grown sons, and a widowed daughter with an infant. The other room was
occupied by two unmarried daughters from sixteen to twenty years of age,
together with a little girl.

The hour was eleven o'clock at night, and the family had retired to
rest. Some symptoms of an alarming nature had engaged the attention of
the young man for an hour, before anything of a decided character took
place. At length hasty steps were heard in the yard, and quickly
afterward several loud knocks at the door, accompanied by the usual
exclamation, "Who keeps house?" in very good English.

The young man, supposing from the language that some benighted travelers
were at the door, hastily arose, and was advancing to withdraw the bar
that secured it, when his mother, who had long lived upon the frontier,
and had probably detected the Indian tone in the demand for admission,
instantly sprang out of bed, and ordered her son not to admit them,
declaring that they were Indians.

She instantly awakened her other son, and the young men seizing their
guns, which were always charged, prepared to repel the enemy. The
Indians finding it impossible to enter under their assumed characters,
began to thunder at the door with great violence, but a single shot from
a loop-hole obliged them to shift the attack to some less exposed point,
and, unfortunately, they discovered the door of the other cabin, which
contained the three daughters. The rifles of the brothers could not be
brought to bear on this point; and, by means of several rails taken from
the yard fence, the door was forced from its hinges, and the girls were
at the mercy of the savages. One was instantly secured, but the eldest
defended herself desperately with a knife she had been using at the
loom, and stabbed one of the Indians to the heart, before she was
tomahawked.

In the meantime, the little girl, who had been overlooked by the enemy
in their eagerness to secure the others, ran out into the yard, and
might have effected her escape, had she taken advantage of the darkness,
and fled; but instead of looking to her own safety, the terrified
little creature ran round the house, wringing her hands, and crying that
her sisters were killed.

[Illustration: THE INDIANS KILLING THE WIDOW'S DAUGHTER.]

Just then the child uttered a loud scream, followed by a few faint
moans, and all was silent. Presently the crackling of flames was heard,
accompanied by a triumphant yell from the Indians, announcing that they
had set fire to that division of the house, which had been occupied by
the daughters, and of which they held undisputed possession.

The fire was quickly communicated to the rest of the building, and it
became necessary to abandon it or perish in the flames. The door was
thrown open, and the old lady, supported by her eldest son, attempted to
cross the fence at one point, while her daughter carrying her child in
her arms, and attended by the younger of the brothers, ran in a
different direction. The blazing roof shed a light over the yard but
little inferior to that of day, and the savages were distinctly seen
awaiting the approach of their victims. The old lady was permitted to
reach the stile unmolested, but in the act of crossing, received several
balls in her breast, and fell dead. Her son, providentially, remained
unhurt, and, by extraordinary agility, effected his escape.

The other party succeeded in reaching the fence unhurt, but in the act
of crossing were vigorously assailed by several Indians, who, throwing
down their guns, rushed upon them with their tomahawks. The young man
defended his sister gallantly, firing upon the enemy as they approached,
and then wielding the butt of his rifle with a fury that drew their
whole attention upon himself, and gave his sister an opportunity of
effecting her escape. He quickly fell however under the tomahawks of his
enemies, and was found at daylight, scalped and mangled in a shocking
manner. Of the whole family, consisting of eight persons, only three
escaped. Four were killed upon the spot, and one, the second daughter,
carried off as a prisoner.

The neighborhood was quickly alarmed, and, by daylight, about thirty men
were assembled, under the command of Colonel Edwards. A light snow had
fallen during the latter part of the night, and the Indian trail could
be followed at a gallop. It led directly into the mountainous country
bordering on the Licking, and afforded evidences of great hurry and
precipitation on the part of the fugitives. Unfortunately, a hound had
been permitted to follow the whites, and as the trail became fresh, and
the scent warm, she followed it with eagerness, baying loudly and giving
the alarm to the Indians. The consequences of this imprudence were soon
manifest. The enemy finding the pursuit keen, and perceiving the
strength of their prisoner began to fail, instantly sunk their tomahawks
in her head, and left her still warm and bleeding upon the snow.

As the whites came up, she regained strength enough to wave her hand in
token of recognition, and appeared desirous of giving them some
information, with regard to the enemy, but her strength was too far
gone. Her brother sprang from his horse and endeavored to stop the
effusion of blood, but in vain. She gave him her hand, muttered some
inarticulate words, and expired.



THRILLING INCIDENT.

In mid-winter about four years since, says Miss Martineau, in her Norway
and the Norwegians, a young man named Hund, was sent by his master on an
errand about twenty miles, to carry provisions to a village in the upper
country. The village people asked him for charity, to carry three orphan
children on his sledge a few miles on his way to Bergen, and to leave
them at a house on the road, when they would be taken care of until they
could be brought from Bergen. He took the little things, and saw that
the two elder were well wrapped up from the cold. The third he took
within his arms and on his knee, as he drove, clasping it warm against
his breast--so those say who saw them set off, and it is confirmed by
one who met the sledge on the road, and heard the children prattling to
Hund, and Hund laughing merrily at their little talk. Before they got
half way, however, a pack of hungry wolves, burst out upon them from a
hollow in the thicket to the right of the wood. The beasts followed
close to the back of the sledge. Closer and closer the wolves pressed.
Hund saw one about to spring at his throat. It was impossible for the
horse to go faster than he did, for he went like the wind--so did the
wolves. Hund in desperation, snatched up one of the children behind him,
and threw it over the back of the sledge. This stopped the pack a
little. On galloped the horse. But the wolves were soon crowded around
again, with the blood freezing to their muzzles. It was easier to throw
over the second child than the first--and Hund did it. But on came again
the infuriated beasts--gaunt with hunger, and raging like fiends for the
prey. It was harder to give up the third--the dumb infant that nestled
in his breast, but Hund was in mortal terror. Again the hot breath of
the wolves was upon him. He threw a way the infant and saved himself.
Away over the snow flew the sledge, the village was reached, and Hund
just escaped after all the sacrifice he had made. But he was unsettled
and wild, and his talk, for some time whenever he did speak, night or
day, was of wolves--so fearful had been the effect upon his imagination.

[Illustration]



ADVENTURES

OF REV. DR. BACON AND HIS PARTY, AMONG THE MOUNTAINS OF PERSIA.

Dr. Bacon and Rev. Mr. Marsh, attempted to cross from the city of Mosul,
on the Tigris, to Oroomiah, the residence of the Nestorian Christians.
On their passage through the Kurdish mountains, they were robbed, and
narrowly escaped being murdered, and were finally forced to return
to Mosul.

Dr. Bacon, after describing their departure from Diarbekr, says:

"I defer to another time the description of our romantic and picturesque
passage down the Tigris. By the care of Providence, our whole party
completed this stage, as they had completed the previous and more
fatiguing ones, in safety and comfortable health. We arrived in Mosul
on the 16th of May, in seven days from Diarbekr, and immediately set
about making preparations for continuing our journey into the mountains.

"The engaging of mules, the hiring of servants, and the preparation of
provisions, detained us in Mosul until Wednesday, the 21st of May. The
meantime was spent by us in visiting the excavations on the opposite
side of the river. In the mound of Koyunjik, we followed our guide
through a labyrinth of narrow corridors, lighted dimly by occasional
openings in the firm clay overhead. Some of the sculptures were
described in Mr. Leyard's volumes; others have been since unearthed, and
some most interesting galleries had just been left by the picks of the
workmen. Time, at present, does not permit me to describe them; but I
may mention as among the most interesting of the recent discoveries, a
succession of slabs carved with a representation of the original
transportation of the great winged bulls which adorned the stately
entrances of the palaces of Ninus and Sardanapalus. A collection of
small, inscribed stones, has also been found, supposed to contain public
records; and, but a day or two ago, the workmen brought in the report of
new and still grander sculptures just discovered.

"We had expected to start on Wednesday at sunrise; but various petty
hindrances detained us until late in the afternoon. We then united in
prayer with the family in whose cares, anxieties, and dangers we had
shared through so many weary weeks, and hastened to our saddles. Passing
the Tigris by a rude ferry, we rode in the setting sunlight by the once
mysterious mounds of Koyunjik. The reapers who were still busy within
the grassy walls of fallen Ninevah, came up to us as we passed, with
their sickles on their heads, to present the offering of the first
fruits of harvest. We hurried on, however, and stopped for the night at
a small village little more than an hour from the gate of Mosul."

On the third day they reached the town of Akkre, among the mountains,
where they were obliged to stay three days, waiting for the Kurdish
muleteers. They performed the Sabbath service in a cavern of the
mountain which the native christians had fitted up as a secret chapel.
Leaving Akkre on Monday morning, the 26th of May, they entered the most
dangerous part of the mountains. Mr. B. says:

"We spent this day's nooning by a spring that bursts out near the top of
a steep mountain, and ate our dinner under a tree that distilled upon
the rocks a fragrant gum. Mounting again at two o'clock, in half an
hour we reached the summit, whence we looked down a giddy descent upon
the swift but winding Zab. Here it became necessary to leave our
animals, and work our way down the almost precipitous road, while the
mules slid, scrambled, and tumbled after us as best they might. As I was
pushing on a little in advance of the party, I was met, in a narrow turn
of the path, by an old bearded man, with a dagger in his girdle, who
reached out his hand toward me. I was uncertain at first how to
understand it; but his only object was to press my hand to his lips with
a fervent '_salam aleikum_' (Peace be with you,) to which I responded,
according to usual form, '_aleikum salam_,' (with you be peace.) Meeting
with others of his party, they asked us if we were Nesrani,
(Nazarenes--Christians,) and saluted us with the same respect, going
some distance back on their path with us to show us a cool water spring.
'They then went their ways, and we saw them no more;' but I shall not
easily forget the satisfaction which they showed in recognizing us as
fellow believers here in the land of the infidel, and the kindness with
which they went out of their way to offer us a 'cup of cold water in the
name of a disciple.'"

That night they spent on the banks of the river Zab. The next day,
after traversing a wild pass, hemmed in by perpendicular rocks, more
than a thousand feet in hight, they reached the village of Bizeh, in a
valley of the mountains, and secured a house-top for the night:

"About the middle of the night, Mr. Marsh was waked by a slight noise,
and, lifting his head, saw a party of five or six armed men creeping
stealthily toward our roof, which, on the side toward the hill on which
they were, was only four or five feet from the ground. The foremost man
stopped short for a moment at Mr. Marsh's movement, and turning to his
followers, called out 'Khawaja!' (the gentlemen!) Then seeing that our
old guard was asleep at the stepping stone, he climbed upon the roof at
another corner, and stood for a moment with his long gun at his side.
Mr. Marsh raised himself upon his arm, and demanded in Arabic, 'What do
you want?' The man probably did not understand the language: at any
rate, he made no answer, but turned to the old man, and conversed
earnestly with him in a low tone. The other men gathered near them, as
if to listen and take part. But they all finally went away without doing
any mischief."

The next morning the sentinel who had kept watch over their baggage
attempted to dissuade them from going the direct road, as the people of
the next village had heard of their coming, and were determined to kill
them. However, they kept on; and, in the course of two or three hours,
their guide was stopped by a company of six armed men:

"The place was admirably chosen for the purpose. The narrow path along
the cliff by which we had come, here widened into a little platform
large enough for our mules to stand upon together. In front of us, a
ledge of broken rocks jutted from the mountain and ran down, crossing
our path, and leaving only a very small passage. In front of this path
stood our challengers. Six worse-looking men, whether in form, dress, or
feature, it would be difficult to imagine. Each man wore around his
high, conical felt hat, a turban of handkerchiefs of every hue and
texture; in his hand a long gun with short and narrow breech; and in his
belt the universal Kurdish curved and two-edged dagger. The leader of
the gang was a man of middle age, with black eyes and a grisly,
untrimmed beard, and with half his front teeth knocked out."

After some discussion, the robbers consented to allow them to pass, on
the payment of fifty piastres, (two dollars and a half,) which they
agreed to do, provided they were conducted to the house of the Agha. The
robbers objected to this, and, provoked by the delay, leveled their guns
at the party. At this juncture, the chief muleteer advanced the
necessary money, and they were spared.

"These transactions, from the time we were stopped, occupied about an
hour. We now passed with our ragged regiment straggling around us, now
with their long guns under our ears, and now cutting off the long bends
of our crooked and little used path. In about ten minutes from the pass,
we were hailed by another party, posted upon a hillside, and a
discussion of many minutes ensued between them and our escort, in which
our Kurdish muleteers took an active part. The result was, that we moved
on with an addition of two men to our guard. We soon began to perceive
that we were going toward the Agha rather as prisoners than as guests.
The castle, (if it may be dignified by the name,) which was now in
sight, was of no promising appearance. It was a rude, rectangular
building, with a small white tower at one corner, on which the workmen
were still engaged. It was situated on the side of a hill which formed
the head of a valley opening into the ravine we had just left. The small
windows and the roof were crowded with men, women, and children, gazing
at our singular cavalcade. As we drew near, some women who were bathing
in a brook, rose, and gazed at us with irrepressible curiosity. We
stopped at the door of the castle.

"Here the assault began. The men of our guard flew like savage dogs at
our servants: Khudhr and Ablahad seized the arms which were girded about
them, slashing furiously with their daggers, to cut the straps of their
guns and pistols. The turbans were torn from their heads, and
appropriated among the rabble. Similar violence was about to be shown
us, when these operations were suddenly interrupted by the appearance,
from the castle, of Melul Agha.

"He was a man taller by several inches than any of his tribe, and with
an expression of face which was that of one accustomed to be obeyed, He
was dressed in a more elegant style than could have been expected in
these mountains; wearing upon his head a turban of gray silk, and a long
rifle slung from his shoulders. With a melo-dramatic wave of his hand,
which was at once obeyed, he motioned his noisy tribe to desist, and,
approaching us, pointed out a tree, a few hundred feet up the hill, to
which we might retire. As we moved alone toward this spot, a grim
suspicion of his intentions crossed our minds. Might it not be for
convenience in dispatching us, that we had been removed? We seated
ourselves quietly in the shade, and watched the proceedings. The
property of the muleteers and donkey-drivers had been unloaded and
placed by itself. One of our loads had been thrown from the mule, and
the other was now brought near us, taken from the animal, and laid under
a neighboring tree. Mr. Marsh now went down toward the castle to assist
Khudhr in bringing the rest of our property toward the tree. This done,
Khudhr returned to the crowd to learn what he could of their intentions.
He soon came back to us in evident terror, and said, with a significant
motion of his hand, that they were intending to kill us."

After sending the servant a second time, he came back with the
announcement that the Agha would examine their baggage, take what he
pleased, and send them on to another Agha; but would not allow them to
return to Mosul.

This examination was soon made, and the party was plundered of one
thousand piasters, (forty-four dollars,) besides razors, knives, and a
quantity of clothing.

The whole affair was conducted with a politeness of manner which was
highly creditable to the Agha, and calculated to put us very much at our
ease. He showed himself, in every thing,

     ----"As mild a mannered man
     As ever scuttled ship, or cut a throat"

For instance, in searching our trunk, his eye was caught by a small,
sealed parcel, which I supposed to contain jewelry; I immediately told
him, through a servant, that it was not mine, but had been given to me,
in America, to be delivered in Europe. He immediately put it down, and
proceeded with the search.

"During these operations, several women, some from curiosity, others
from pity, had gathered around us. Among the latter class, was one, who,
from her dress, beauty, and demeanor, could be no other than the wife
of the Agha. She was dressed in a faded, but once magnificent
robe, and trowsers of silk, and wore upon her head a massive and
elaborately-carved ornament of silver. She moved among the fierce and
blood-thirsty savages, with an air of mingled scorn and anxiety,
reproaching them with the shame of the transaction, and pleading
earnestly that our lives and property be spared. She warned them, also,
that our injuries would inevitably be visited upon their heads.

"Having finished his search, the Agha, with the old men of the tribe,
gathered on a ledge of rocks, just behind us, and consulted long and
earnestly. We sat down and dined with what appetite we could muster."

After the robbers had come to their decision, a second search of the
baggage took place, which Mr. Bacon thus describes:

"The pressure of greater and more important dangers had made me quite
resigned to such petty losses as these, and I watched, with much
amusement, the appropriation of unusual articles. A black silk cravat
which had seen much service in New Haven drawing-rooms, was twisted
about the suspicious-looking head of an uncommonly dirty boy. A pair of
heavy riding-boots were transferred to the shoulders of a youth who bore
the 'gallows mark' upon his features with unmistakable distinctness. A
satin vest of Mr. Marsh's was circulating through the crowd, on the
person of a dirty child, who boasted no other wealth but a ragged shirt
and a green pomegranate. I looked at the youngster with a smile of
congratulation; but he turned upon his heel and strutted gravely away,
his new garment trailing on the ground at every step.

"Having lightened our baggage considerably at this haul, they proceeded
to search our persons. It had been our first movement, on being placed
by ourselves, to transfer our watches, together with a locket,--all
priceless memorials of distant or departed friends--from the waistcoat
to the pantaloons fob; a pocket compass attached to my watchguard, was
cared for; likewise, the little note-book in which I was accustomed to
place the map of each day's journey. We knew not how soon we might be
wandering in the mountains on foot, and without a guide. Dr. Bacon had
with him two English sovereigns, and we were uncertain what to do with
them. If we should openly give them to the robbers, we dreaded the
effect of the _auri sacra fames_. If discovered in a secret place, we
might be stripped in the search for more. The attempt to conceal them in
the earth might be perilous. They were finally placed in the waistcoat
fob, from which the watch had been taken, with the hope that the clumsy
Kurds might overlook it.

"They began with me. The Agha, with an irresistible smile and bow of
apology, passed his hand about my waist, feeling for a money belt, then
over my dress; finding that one of my breeches' pockets was full, he
motioned me to empty it, and seemed satisfied when I drew out a
handkerchief and a pair of gloves. Dr. Bacon was then searched, even
more superficially; but as the hand passed over the waistcoat pocket,
something jingled. I held my breath as Dr. B. put in his hand and drew
out a seal, which he had bought at Mosul as an antique Upon Mr. Marsh,
the Agha found a gold pencil case, which pleased him wonderfully. On
being told of its use, he scrawled with the pencil on the beyur-haldeh,
an autograph, for which I have a peculiar value. The mystery of this
was, that he restored the pencil, with a grin of self-righteousness, to
Mr. Marsh."

After waiting some time in suspense, the travelers were suffered to
leave, in charge of a Kurdish guard:

"It soon became evident that we were not on the road to Oroomiah.
Whither we were going, was a matter of painful mystery. At the distance
of more than a mile, as we passed a village, a single Christian, a man
of Akkre, came out in a crowd of curious villagers, to offer his
sympathy. As each of us passed him, he bowed, with his head to the
ground, and with the strongest expression of regard, urged us to remain
with him there, as he would guarantee our safety. It was not for us,
however, to say, and we pressed forward; but Khudhr soon brought us the
intelligence, which he had obtained here, that we were being led to the
village of a Mullah, a very holy man, under whose protection we might
feel entirely secure. He added, that toward Oroomiah it would be quite
impossible to go; our only escape was toward Mosul."

The Mullah received them kindly, entertained them a day in his house,
where all the diseased persons in the neighborhood were brought for them
to cure, and started with them early on the morning of the 30th of May,
to accompany them on their way back to Mosul. On reaching a village,
toward noon, a scene took place, which is of so much interest that we
give Mr. Bacon's account of it in full:

"We were assisted from our horses by a remarkably ill-looking set of
men, whom we supposed to have come out to see us from curiosity. An
unprepossessing young gentleman, with a scar that divided his nose and
his upper lip, and a silver-mounted dagger, took a seat near the Mullah,
and a violent discussion immediately commenced, of the drift of which,
we were, happily, ignorant. Soon, another party of villagers appeared,
headed by another young man, who was quite the counterpart of the first,
even to the scar in his lip; but his dagger-hilt and sheath were of
solid silver, set with precious stones, and the long ringlets which hung
upon his shoulders, were still more daintily curled. The arrival of this
reinforcement renewed the violence of the discussion, between the Mullah
on one side, and the young men on the other. It plainly related to us,
and the fierce looks of the Kurds, as they walked to and fro with their
hands on their daggers, would have alarmed us, had we not had full
confidence in the power and good will of our friend. The controversy had
a good deal subsided, when the approach of still another party renewed
it once more. The Agha himself was coming. He was a man of fifty years,
with a once gray beard, dyed a bright red, and with his lower eyebrows
stained a livid blue-black. He greeted us with a ferocious smile, and
entered at once into earnest conversation with Mullah Mustafa. The
conversation was interrupted, now and then, by one of his amiable sons
leaping from his seat, and speaking violently, to the great apparent
satisfaction of the crowd.

"We soon learned the nature of these discussions from Khudr, who had
been an attentive and agitated listener to the whole. The respectable
old gentleman, it seems, had sent his first son to murder us, placing
the second at a convenient distance to assist him. The latter, surprised
that the business lagged, came up to see to it. And the Agha himself,
finding that business lagged, came finally to attend to it himself. The
Mullah urged the danger of injuring persons of consequence. 'The sword
of the Frank is long,' said he. But this argument was without effect.
Mustafa then appealed to him not to disgrace his hospitality. These men
were under his own protection, and he would not see them wronged. This
argument also failed. He now urged that we were men of influence at
Mosul, and were going direct to Constantinople; that, by securing our
influence against his colleague and rival, Melul Agha, he might secure
a perpetual supremacy in the district of Sherwan.

"This plea gained the case; the eyes of the old savage glistened with
diabolical satisfaction as he thought of the villainous trick he was
about to play upon his rival. He drew from his bosom a letter and handed
it to the Mullah, who read it and handed it to our servant. It was
written by Melul Agha, to Khan Abdul, our present host, directing him to
take the rest of our property, and murder us without fail. This letter
had been written on the blank page of another letter, sent to Melul
Agha, by Mustafa Agha, of Ziba, who resides at Akkre. It was the last
scoundrel who had sent letters in advance of us into the mountains,
inviting them to murder us--and this, all for the sake of making a
little impression on the government at Mosul."

After these hair-breadth escapes from murder, the party returned in
safety to Mosul.



A BATTLE WITH SNAKES.

Since the exhibitions in London of the two Hindoo snake-charmers--the
first we believe who ever visited Europe--everything relating to
serpents seems to have acquired additional interest. Many facts
regarding the nature and habits of the various species have been
published, affording much information and still greater astonishment.

Waterton, in his "Wanderings in South America and the Antilles, in
1812-24," relates some stories of so marvellous a character, that,
coming from a less authentic source, their truth might be
reasonably doubted.

While in the region of Mibri Hill, Mr. Waterton long sought in vain for
a serpent of large size, and finally, offered a reward to the negroes if
they would find him one. A few days afterward one of the natives,
followed by his little dog, came to him with the information that a
snake of respectable dimensions had been discovered a short distance up
the hill; and armed with an eight feet lance, and accompanied by two
negroes with cutlasses and the dog, he at once started to take a look at
it. Mr. Waterton states that he was barefoot, with an old hat, check
shirt and trousers on, and a pair of braces to keep them up. His
snakeship was pointed out as lying at the roots of a large tree which
had been torn up by a whirlwind. But the remainder of the story shall be
given in the traveler's own words:

I advanced up to the place slow and cautious. The snake was well
concealed, but at last I made him out; it was a coulacanara, not
poisonous, but large enough to have crushed any of us to death. On
measuring him afterward, he was something more than fourteen feet long.
This species of snake is very rare, and much thicker in proportion to
its length than any other snake in the forest. A coulacanara of fourteen
feet in length, is as thick as a common boa of twenty-four feet. After
skinning this snake, I could easily get my head into his mouth, as the
singular formation of the jaws admits of wonderful extension.

On ascertaining the size of the serpent, I retired slowly the way I
came, and promised four dollars to the negro who had shown it to me, and
one dollar to the other who had joined us. Aware that the day was on the
decline, and that the approach of night would be detrimental to the
dissection, a thought struck me that I could take him alive. I imagined
that if I could strike him with the lance behind the head, and pin him
to the ground, I might succeed in capturing him. When I told this to the
negroes, they begged and entreated me to let them go for a gun and bring
more force, as they were sure the snake would kill some of us. Taking,
however, a cutlass from one of the negroes, and then ranging both of the
sable slaves behind me, I told them to follow me, and that I would cut
them down if they offered to fly. When we had got up to the place, the
serpent had not stirred: but I could see nothing of his head, and judged
by the folds of his body that it must be at the farthest side of the
den. A species of woodbine formed a complete mantle over the branches of
the fallen tree, almost impervious to the rain or the rays of the sun.
Probably he had resorted to this sequestered place for a length of time,
as it bore marks of an ancient settlement.

I now took my knife, determined to cut away the woodbine, and break the
twigs in the gentlest manner possible, till I could get a view of his
head. One negro stood guard close behind me with a cutlass. The cutlass
which I had taken from the first negro, was on the ground close beside
me, in case of need. After working in dead silence for a quarter of an
hour, with one knee all the time on the ground, I had cleared away
enough to see his head. It appeared coming out between the first and
second coils of his body, and was flat on the ground. This was the very
position I wished it to be in. I rose in silence, and retreated very
slowly, making a sign to the negroes to do the same. The dog was sitting
at a distance in mute observance. I could now read in the faces of the
negroes, that they considered this a very unpleasant affair; and they
made another vain attempt to persuade me to let them go for a gun. I
smiled in a good-natured manner, and made a feint to cut them down with
the weapon I had in my hand. This was all the answer I made to their
request, and they looked very uneasy.

It must be observed that we were about twenty yards from the snake's
den. I now ranged the negroes behind me, and told him who stood next to
me, to lay hold of the lance the moment I struck the snake, and that the
other must attend my movements. It now only remained to take their
cutlasses from them; for I was sure that if I did not disarm them, they
would be tempted to strike the snake in time of danger, and thus forever
spoil his skin. On taking their cutlasses from them, if I might judge
from their physiognomy, they seemed to consider it as a most intolerable
act of tyranny. Probably nothing kept them from bolting, but the
consolation that I was betwixt them and the snake. Indeed, my own heart,
in spite of all I could do, beat quicker than usual. We went slowly on
in silence, without moving our arms or heads, in order to prevent all
alarm as much as possible, lest the snake should glide off, or attack us
in self-defence. I carried the lance perpendicularly before me, with the
point about a foot from the ground. The snake had not moved, and on
getting up to him, I struck him with the lance on the near side, just
behind the neck, and pinned him to the ground. That moment the negro
next to me seized the lance and held it firm in its place, while I
dashed head foremost into the den to grapple with the snake, and to get
hold of his tail before he could do any mischief.

On pinning him to the ground with the lance, he gave a tremendous loud
hiss, and the little dog ran away, howling as he went. We had a sharp
fray in the den, the rotten sticks flying on all sides, and each party
struggling for superiority. I called out to the second negro to throw
himself upon me, as I found I was not heavy enough. He did so, and the
additional weight was of great service. I had now got a firm hold of his
tail, and after a violent struggle or two, he gave in, finding himself
overpowered. This was the moment to secure him. So while the first negro
continued to hold the lance firm to the ground, and the other was
helping me, I contrived to unloosen my braces, and with them tied the
snake's mouth.

The snake now finding himself in an unpleasant predicament, tried to
better himself, and set resolutely to work, but we overpowered him. We
contrived to make him twist himself round the shaft of the lance, and
then prepared to convey him out of the forest. I stood at his head, and
held it firm under my arm, one negro supporting the belly and the other
the tail. In this order we began to move slowly toward home, and reached
it after resting ten times; for the snake was too heavy for us to
support, without stopping to recruit our strength. As we proceeded
onward with him, he fought hard for freedom, but it was all in vain. We
untied the mouth of the bag, kept him down by main force, and then cut
his throat.

The week following, a curious conflict took place near the spot where I
had captured the large snake. In the morning I had been following a
species of paroquet, and, the day being rainy, I had taken an umbrella
to keep the gun dry, and had left it under a tree: in the afternoon, I
took Daddy Quashi (the negro) with me to look for it. While he was
searching about, curiosity led me toward the place of the late scene of
action. There was a path where timber had formerly been dragged along.
Here I observed a young coulacanara, ten feet long, slowly moving
onward; and I saw he was thick enough to break my arm, in case he got
twisted around it. There was not a moment to be lost. I laid hold of his
tail with the left hand, one knee being on the ground; and, with the
right hand, I took off my hat, and held it as I would hold a shield
for defence.

The snake instantly turned, and came on at me with his head about a yard
from the ground, as if to ask me what business I had to take such
liberties with his tail. I let him come, hissing and open-mouthed,
within two feet of my face, and then, with all the force that I was
master of, drove my fist, shielded by my hat, full in his jaws. He was
stunned and confounded by the blow, and, ere he could recover himself, I
had seized his throat with both hands, in such a position that he could
not bite me. I then allowed him to coil himself around my body and
marched off with him as my lawful prize. He pressed me hard, but not
alarmingly so.



ESTILL'S DEFEAT.

In the spring of 1782, a party of twenty-five Wyandots secretly
approached Estill's station, and committed shocking outrages. Entering a
cabin, they tomahawked and scalped a woman and her two daughters. The
neighborhood was instantly alarmed. Captain Estill speedily collected a
body of twenty-five men, and pursued the hostile trail with great
rapidity. He came up with the savages on Hinkston fork of Licking,
immediately after they had crossed it; and a most severe and desperate
conflict ensued.

Estill, unfortunately, sent six of his men under Lieutenant Miller, to
attack the enemy's rear. The Indian leader immediately availed himself
of this dimunition of force, rushed upon the weakened line of his
adversaries, and compelled him to give way. A total route ensued.
Captain Estill was killed together with his gallant lieutenant, South.
Four men were wounded and fortunately escaped. Nine fell under the
tomahawk, and were scalped. The Indians also suffered severely, and are
believed to have lost half of their warriors.

[Illustration: Attack on Estill's Station.]



INCIDENT AT NIAGARA FALLS.

On Saturday, the 13th of July, 1850, as a boy, ten years old, was rowing
his father over to their home on Grand Island, the father being so much
intoxicated as not to be able to assist any more than to steer the
canoe, the wind, which was very strong off shore, so frustrated the
efforts of his tiny arm, that the canoe in spite of him, got into the
current, and finally into the rapids, within a very few rods of the
Falls! On went the frail shell, careering and plunging as the mad waters
chose. Still the gallant little oarsman maintained his struggle with the
raging billows, and actually got the canoe, by his persevering
manoeuvring so close to Iris Island, as to have her driven by a
providential wave in between the little islands called the Sisters. Here
the father and his dauntless boy were in still greater danger for an
instant; for there is a fall between the two islands, over which had
they gone, no earthly power could have withheld their final passage to
the terrific precipice, which forms the Horse-shoe Fall. But the sudden
dash of a wave capsized the canoe, and left the two struggling in the
water. Being near a rock, and shallow, the boy lost no time, but
seizing his father by the coat collar, dragged him up to a place of
safety, where the crowd of anxious citizens awaited to lend assistance.
The poor boy on reaching the shore in safety, instantly fainted, while
his miserable father was sufficiently sobered by the perils he had
passed through. The canoe was dashed to pieces on the rocks ere it
reached its final leap.



A SKATER CHASED BY A WOLF.

A thrilling incident in American country life is vividly sketched in
"Evenings at Donaldson Manor." In the winter of 1844, the relater went
out one evening to skate, on the Kennebec, in Maine, by moonlight, and,
having ascended that river nearly two miles, turned into a little stream
to explore its course.

"Fir and hemlock of a century's growth," he says, "met overhead and
formed an archway, radiant with frostwork. All was dark within; but I
was young and fearless; and, as I peered into an unbroken forest that
reared itself on the borders of the stream, I laughed with very
joyousness; my wild hurrah rang through the silent woods, and I stood
listening to the echo that reverberated again and again, until all was
hushed. Suddenly a sound arose--it seemed to me to come from beneath the
ice; it sounded low and tremulous at first, until it ended in a low,
wild yell. I was appalled. Never before had such a noise met my ears. I
thought it more than mortal; so fierce, and amid such an unbroken
solitude, it seemed as though from the tread of some brute animal, and
the blood rushed back to my forehead with a bound that made my skin
burn, and I felt relieved that I had to contend with things earthly and
not spiritual; my energies returned, and I looked around me for some
means of escape. As I turned my head to the shore, I could see two dark
objects dashing through the underbrush, at a pace nearly double in speed
to my own. By this rapidity, and the short yells they occasionally gave,
I knew at once that these were the much-dreaded gray wolf.

"I had never met with these animals, but, from the description given of
them, I had very little pleasure in making their acquaintance. Their
untamable fierceness, and the enduring strength, which seems part of
their nature, render them objects of dread to every benighted traveler.

"There was no time for thought; so I bent my head and dashed madly
forward. Nature turned me toward home. The light flakes of snow spun
from the iron skates, and I was some distance from my pursuers, when
their fierce howl told me I was their fugitive. I did not look back; I
did not feel afraid, or sorry, or even glad; one thought of home, the
bright faces waiting my return--of their tears, if they should never see
me again, and then every energy of body and mind was exerted for escape.
I was perfectly at home on the ice. Many were the days that I had spent
on my good skates, never thinking that at one time they would be my only
means of safety. Every half minute, an alternate yelp from my ferocious
followers, told me too certain that they were in close pursuit. Nearer
and nearer they came; I heard their feet pattering on the ice nearer
still, until I could feel their breath, and hear their sniffling scent.

"Every nerve and muscle in my frame was stretched to the utmost tension.
The trees along the shore seemed to dance in the uncertain light, and my
brain turned with my own breathless speed, yet still they seemed to hiss
forth their breath with a sound truly horrible, when an involuntary
motion on my part, turned me out of my course. The wolves, close behind,
unable to stop, and as unable to turn on the smooth ice, slipped and
fell, still going on far ahead; their tongues were lolling out, their
white tusks glaring from their bloody mouths, their dark, shaggy breasts
were fleeced with foam, and, as they passed me, their eyes glared, and
they howled with fury.

"The thought flashed on my mind, that, by these means, I could avoid
them, viz: by turning aside whenever they came too near; for they, by
the formation of their feet, are unable to run on the ice, except in a
straight line.

"At one time, by delaying my turning too long, my sanguinary antagonists
came so near, that they threw the white foam over my dress, as they
sprang to seize me, and their teeth clashed together like the spring of
a fox-trap!

"Had my skates failed for one instant, had I tripped on a stick, or
caught my foot in a fissure in the ice, the story I am now telling would
never have been told.

"I thought over all the chances; I knew where they would take hold of
me, if I fell; I thought how long it would be before I died; and then
there would be a search for the body that would already have its tomb!
for, oh! how fast man's mind traces out all the dread colors of death's
picture, only those who have been so near the grim original can tell.

"But I soon came opposite the house, and, my hounds,--I knew their deep
voices,--roused by the noise, bayed furiously from the kennels. I heard
their chains rattle; how I wished they would break them! and then I
would have protectors that would be peer to the fiercest denizens of the
forest. The wolves, taking the hint conveyed by the dogs, stopped in
their mad career, and, after a moment's consideration, turned and fled.
I watched them until their dusky forms disappeared over a neighboring
hill; then, taking off my skates, I wended my way to the house, with
feelings which may be better imagined than described. But, even yet, I
never see a broad sheet of ice in the moonshine, without thinking of the
sniffling breath, and those fearful things that followed me closely down
the frozen Kennebec."



OUR FLAG ON THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS

We find the following incident of placing the American flag on the
highest point of the Rocky Mountains, in "Col. Fremont's Narrative:"

We managed to get our mules up to a little bench about a hundred feet
above the lakes, where there was a patch of good grass, and turned them
loose to graze. During our rough ride to this place, they had exhibited
a wonderful surefootedness. Parts of the defile were filled with
angular, sharp fragments of rock, three or four and eight or ten feet
cube; and among these they had worked their way leaping from one narrow
point to another, rarely making a false step, and giving us no occasion
to dismount. Having divested ourselves of every unnecessary encumbrance,
we commenced the ascent. This time, like experienced travelers, we did
not press ourselves, but climbed leisurely, sitting down so soon as we
found breath beginning to fail. At intervals, we readied places where a
number of springs gushed from the rocks, and, about 1800 feet above the
lakes, came to the snow line. From this point, our progress was
uninterrupted climbing. Hitherto, I had worn a pair of thick moccasins,
with soles of _parfleche_, but here I put on a light, thin pair, which I
had brought for the purpose, as now the use of our toes became necessary
to a further advance. I availed myself of a sort of comb of the
mountain, which stood against the wall like a buttress, and which the
wind and the solar radiation, joined to the steepness of the smooth
rock, had kept almost entirely free from snow. Up this, I made my way
rapidly. Our cautious method of advancing, at the outset, had spared my
strength; and, with the exception of a slight disposition to headache,
I felt no remains of yesterday's illness, In a few minutes we reached a
point where the buttress was overhanging, and there was no other way of
surmounting the difficulty than by passing around one side of it, which
was the face of a vertical precipice of several hundred feet.

Putting hands and feet in the crevices between the blocks, I succeeded
in getting over it, and, when I reached the top, found my companions in
a small valley below. Descending to them, we continued climbing, and in
a short time reached the crest. I sprang upon the summit, and another
step would have precipitated me into an immense snow field, five hundred
feet below. To the edge of this field was a sheer icy precipice; and
then, with a gradual fall, the field sloped off for about a mile, until
it struck the foot of another lower ridge. I stood on a narrow crest,
about three feet in width, with an inclination of about 20° N., 51° E.
As soon as I had gratified the first feelings of curiosity, I descended,
and each man ascended in his turn; for I would only allow one at a time
to mount the unstable and precarious slab, which, it seemed, a breath
would hurl into the abyss below. We mounted the barometer in the snow of
the summit, and, fixing a ramrod in a crevice, unfurled the national
flag to wave in the breeze, where flag never waved before.

[Illustration: OUR FLAG ON THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.]

During our morning's ascent, we had met no sign of animal life, except
a small sparrow-like bird. A stillness the most profound, and a terrible
solitude, forced themselves constantly on the mind as the great features
of the place. Here, on the summit, where the stillness was absolute,
unbroken by any sound, and solitude complete, we thought ourselves
beyond the region of animated life; but, while we were sitting on the
rock, a solitary bee (_bromus, the humble-bee_) came winging his flight
from the eastern valley, and lit on the knee of one of the men.

It was a strange place, the icy rock and the highest peak of the Rocky
mountains, for a lover of warm sunshine and flowers; and we pleased
ourselves with the idea that he was the first of his species to cross
the mountain barrier--a solitary pioneer to foretell the advance of
civilization. I believe that a moment's thought would have made us let
him continue his way unharmed; but we carried out the law of this
country, where all animated nature seems at war; and, seizing him
immediately, put him in at least a fit place--in the leaves of a large
book, among the flowers we had collected on our way.



RUNNING THE CANON.

Col. Fremont, in his narrative, gives the following account of a
perilous adventure of himself and party, in attempting to run a canon,
on the river Platte. They had previously passed three cataracts:

We reëmbarked at nine o'clock, and, in about twenty minutes, reached the
next canon. Landing on a rocky shore at its commencement, we ascended
the ridge to reconnoiter. Portage was out of the question. So far as we
could see, the jagged rocks pointed out the course of the canon, on a
winding line of seven or eight miles. It was simply a narrow, dark chasm
in the rock; and here the perpendicular faces were much higher than in
the previous pass, being at this end two to three hundred, and further
down, as we afterward ascertained, five hundred feet in vertical height.

Our previous success had made us bold, and we determined again to run
the canon. Every thing was secured as firmly as possible; and, having
divested ourselves of the greater part of our clothing, we pushed into
the stream. To save our chronometer from accident, Mr. Preuss took it,
and attempted to proceed along the shore on the masses of rock, which,
in places, were piled up on either side; but, after he had walked about
five minutes, every thing like shore disappeared, and the vertical wall
came squarely down into the water. He therefore waited until we came up.

An ugly pass lay before us. We had made fast to the stern of the boat a
strong rope about fifty feet long; and three of the men clambered along
among the rocks, and, with this rope, let her slowly through the pass.
In several places, high rocks lay scattered about in the channel; and,
in the narrows, it required all our strength and skill to avoid staving
the boat on the sharp points. In one of these, the boat proved a little
too broad, and stuck fast for an instant, while the water flew over us;
fortunately, it was but for an instant, as our united strength forced
her immediately through. The water swept overboard only a sextant and a
pair of saddle-bags. I caught the sextant as it passed by me; but the
saddle-bags became the prey of the whirlpools. We reached the place
where Mr. Preuss was standing, took him on board, and, with the aid of
the boat, put the men with the rope on the succeeding pile of rocks.

We found this passage much worse than the previous one, and our
position was rather a bad one. To go back was impossible; before us, the
cataract was a sheet of foam; and, shut up in the chasm by the rocks,
which, in some places, seemed almost to meet overhead, the roar of the
water was deafening, We pushed off again; but, after making a little
distance, the force of the current became too great for the men on
shore, and two of them let go the rope. Lajeunesse, the third man, hung
on, and was jerked headforemost into the river, from a rock about twelve
feet high; and down the boat shot, like an arrow, Bazil following us in
the rapid current, and exerting all his strength to keep in mid
channel--his head only seen occasionally like a black spot in the white
foam. How far we went, I do not exactly know; but we succeeded in
turning the boat into an eddy below. "_'Cre Dieu,_" said Bazil
Lajeunesse, as he arrived immediately after us, "_Je crois bien que j'ai
nage un demi mile._" He had owed his life to his skill as a swimmer, and
I determined to take him and two others on board, and trust to skill and
fortune to reach the other end in safety. We placed ourselves on our
knees, with the short paddles in our hands, the most skillful boatman
being at the bow; and again we commenced our rapid descent. We cleared
rock after rock, and shot past fall after fall, our little boat seeming
to play with the cataract. We became flushed with success, and familiar
with danger; and, yielding to the excitement of the occasion, broke
forth into a Canadian boat-song. Singing, or rather shouting, we dashed
along, and were, I believe, in the midst of the chorus, when the boat
struck a concealed rock immediately at the foot of a fall, which whirled
her over in an instant. Three of my men could not swim, and my first
feeling was to assist them, and save some of our effects; but a sharp
concussion or two convinced me that I had not yet saved myself. A few
strokes brought me into an eddy, and I landed on a pile of rocks on the
left side. Looking around, I saw that Mr. Preuss had gained the shore on
the same side, about twenty yards below; and a little climbing and
swimming soon brought him to my side. On the opposite side, against the
wall, lay the boat, bottom up; and Lambert was in the act of saving
Descoteaux, whom he had grasped by the hair, and who could not swim.

For a hundred yards below, the current was covered with floating books
and boxes, bales and blankets, and scattered articles of clothing; and
so strong and boiling was the stream, that even our heavy instruments,
which were all in cases, kept on the surface, and the sextant, circle,
and the long, black box of the telescope, were in view at once. For a
moment, I felt somewhat disheartened. All our books--almost every record
of the journey--our journals and registers of astronomical and
barometrical observations--had been lost in a moment, But it was no time
to indulge in regrets; and I immediately set about endeavoring to save
something from the wreck. Making ourselves understood as well as
possible by signs, (for nothing could be heard in the roar of the
waters,) we commenced our operations. Of every thing on board, the only
article that had been saved was my double-barreled gun, which Descoteaux
had caught and clung to with drowning tenacity. The men continued down
the river on the left bank. Mr. Preuss and myself descended on the side
we were on; and Lajeunesse, with a paddle in his hand, jumped on the
boat alone, and continued down the canon. She was now light, and cleared
every bad place with much less difficulty. In a short time he was joined
by Lambert and the search was continued for about a mile and a half,
which was as far as the boat could proceed in the pass.

Here the walls were about five hundred feet high, and the fragments of
rocks from above had choked the river into a hollow pass, but one or two
feet above the surface. Through this, and the interstices of the rock,
the water found its way. Favored beyond our expectations, all our
registers had been recovered, with the exception of one of my journals,
which contained the notes and incidents of travel, and topographical
descriptions, a number of scattered astronomical observations,
principally meridian altitudes of the sun, and our barometrical register
west of Laramie. Fortunately, our other journals contained duplicates of
the most important barometrical observations. In addition to these, we
saved the circle; and these, with a few blankets, constituted every
thing that had been rescued from the waters.



THE RESCUE.

A young girl has been captured at her father's hut, when all the males
of the household are absent hunting wolves. She is seized by the
Indians, and borne swiftly away to the encampment of a war party of the
Osages. She is then placed in a "land canoe" and hurried rapidly forward
toward their villages. Among the party she recognizes one whose life she
had been instrumental in saving, when a prisoner. He recognizes her, and
promises to assist her escape. At this point the following narrative
commences:

At a late and solemn hour, the Indian who had been the captive the night
before, suddenly ceased his snoring, which had been heard without
intermission for a great length of time; and when Mary instinctively
cast her eyes toward him, she was surprised to see him gently and slowly
raise his head. He enjoined silence by placing his hand upon his mouth.
After carefully disengaging himself from his comrades, he crept quietly
away, and soon vanished entirely from sight on the northern side of the
spreading beech. Mary expected he would soon return and assist her to
escape. Although she was aware of the hardships and perils that would
attend her flight, yet the thought of again meeting her friends was
enough to nerve her for the undertaking, and she waited with anxious
impatience the coming of her rescuer. But he came not. She could
attribute no other design in his conduct but that of effecting her
escape, and yet he neither came for her, nor beckoned her away. She had
reposed confidence in his promise, for she knew that the Indian, savage
as he was, rarely forfeited his word; but when gratitude inspired a
pledge, she could not believe that he would use deceit. The fire was now
burning quite low, and its waning light scarce cast a beam upon the
branches overhead. It was evidently not far from morning, and every hope
of present escape entirely fled from her bosom. But just as she was
yielding to despair, she saw the Indian returning in a stealthy pace,
bearing some dark object in his arms. He glided to her side, and
motioned to her to leave the snow-canoe, and also to take with her all
her robes with which she had been enveloped. She did his bidding, and
then he carefully deposited the burden he bore in the place she had just
occupied. A portion of the object becoming unwrapped, Mary discovered it
to be a huge mass of snow, resembling in some respects a human form, and
the Indian's stratagem was at once apparent to her. Relinquishing
herself to his guidance, she was led noiselessly through the bushes
about a hundred paces distant from the fire, to a large fallen tree that
had yielded to some furious storm, when her conductor paused. He pointed
to a spot where a curve caused the huge trunk to rise about a foot from
the surface of the snow, under which was a round hole cut through the
drifted snow down to the earth, and in which were deposited several
buffalo robes, and so arranged that a person could repose within,
without coming in contact with the frozen element around. Mary looked
down, and then at her companion to ascertain his intentions. He spoke to
her in a low tone, enough of which she comprehended to understand that
he desired her to descend into the pit without delay. She obeyed, and
when he had carefully folded the robes and divers furs about her body,
he stepped a few paces to one side, and gently lifting up a round lid of
snow-crust, placed it over the aperture. It had been so smoothly cut,
and fitted with such precision when replaced, that no one would have
been able to discover that an incision had been made. He then bid Mary a
"dud by" in bad English, and set off on a run in a northern direction
for the purpose of joining the whites.

With the first light of morning, the war-party sprang to their feet, and
hastily despatching a slight repast, they set out on their journey with
renewed animation and increased rapidity. Before starting, the chief
called to Mary, and again offered some food; but no reply being
returned, or motion discovered under the robe which he imagined
enveloped her, he supposed she was sleeping, and directed the party to
select the most even route when they emerged in the prairie, that she
might as much as possible enjoy her repose.

The Indian who had planned and executed the escape of Mary, with the
well-devised cunning for which the race is proverbial, had told his
companions that he would rise before day and pursue the same direction
in advance of them, and endeavor to kill a deer for their next night's
meal. Thus his absence created no suspicion, and the party continued
their precipitate retreat.

But, about noon, after casting many glances back at the supposed form of
the captive reclining peacefully in the snow-canoe, the chief, with much
excitement, betrayed by his looks, which seemed to be mingled with an
apprehension that she was dead, abruptly ordered the party to halt. He
sprang to the canoe, and convulsively tearing away the skins, discovered
only the roll of snow! He at first compressed his lips in momentary
rage, and then burst into a fit of irrepressible laughter. But the rest
raved and stamped, and uttered direful imprecations and threats of
vengeance. Immediately they were aware of the treachery of the absent
Indian, and resolved with one voice that his blood should be an
atonement for the act.

The snow was quickly thrown out, and the war-party adjusted their
weapons, with the expectation of encountering the whites; and then
whirling about they retraced their steps far more swiftly than they had
been advancing. Just as the night was setting in, they came in sight of
the grove where they had encamped. They slackened their pace, and
looking eagerly forward, seemed to think it not improbable that the
whites had arrived in the vicinity, and might be lying in ambush
awaiting their return in search of the maid. They then abandoned the
canoe, after having concealed it under some low bushes, and entered the
grove in a stooping and watchful posture. Ere long the chief attained
the immediate neighbor of the spreading tree, and with an arrow drawn to
its head, crept within a few paces of the spot where he had lain the
preceding night. His party were mostly a few feet in the rear, while a
few were approaching in the same manner from the opposite direction.
Hearing no sound whatever, he rose up slowly, and with an "ugh" of
disappointment, strode carelessly across the silent and untenanted place
of encampment.

Vexation and anger were expressed by the savages in being thus
disappointed. They hoped to wreak their vengeance on the whites, and
resolved to recapture the maiden. Where they expected to find them, the
scene was silent and desolate. And they now sauntered about under the
trees in the partial light of the moon that struggled through the matted
branches, threatening in the most horrid manner, the one who had thus
baffled them. Some struck their tomahawks into the trunks of trees,
while others brandished their knives, and uttered direful threats. The
young chief stood in silence, with his arms folded on his breast. A
small ray of light that fell upon his face exhibited a meditative brow,
and features expressing both firmness and determination. He had said
that the captive should be regained, and his followers ever and anon
regarded his thoughtful attitude with the confidence that his decision
would hasten the accomplishment of their desires. Long he remained thus,
motionless and dignified, and no one dared to address him.

The young chief called one of the oldest of the party, who was standing
a few paces distant absorbed in thought, to his side, and after a short
conference the old savage prostrated himself on the snow, and
endeavored, like a hound, to scent the tracks of his recreant brother.
At first he met with no success, but when making a wide circuit round
the premises, still applying his nose to the ground occasionally, and
minutely examining the bushes, he paused abruptly, and announced to the
party that he had found the precise direction taken by the maid and her
deliverer. Instantly they all clustered round him, evincing the most
intense interest. Some smelt the surface of the snow, and others
examined the bushes. Small twigs, not larger than pins, were picked up
and closely scrutinized. They well knew that anyone passing through the
frozen and clustered bushes must inevitably sever some of the twigs and
buds Their progress was slow, but unerring. The course they pursued was
the direction taken by Mary and her rescuer. It was not long before they
arrived within a few feet of the place of the maiden's concealment. But
now they were at fault. There were no bushes immediately around the
fallen tree. They paused, the chief in the van, with their bows and
arrows and tomahawks in readiness for instant use. They knew that the
maiden could not return to her friends on foot, or the treacherous
savage be able to bear her far on his shoulder. They thought that one or
both must be concealed somewhere in the neighborhood, and the fallen
tree, were it hollow, was the place most likely to be selected for that
purpose. After scanning the fallen trunk a few minutes in silence, and
discovering nothing to realize their hopes, they uttered a terrific
yell, and commenced striking their tomahawks in the wood, and ripping up
the bark in quest of some hiding-place. But their search was in vain.
The fallen trunk was sound and solid throughout, and the young chief sat
down on it within three paces of Mary! Others, in passing about,
frequently trod on the very verge of the concealed pit.

Mary was awakened by the yell, but knew not that the sound came from her
enemies. The Indian had told her that he would soon return, and her
heart now fluttered with the hope that her father and her friends were
at hand. Yet she prudently determined not to rush from her concealment
until she was better assured of the fact. She did not think that the
savages would ever suspect that she was hid under the snow, but yet she
thought it very strange that her father did not come to her at once.
Several minutes had elapsed since she had been startled by the sounds in
the immediate vicinity. She heard the tramp of men almost directly over
her head, and the strokes against the fallen trunk. She was several
times on the eve of rising up, but was as often withheld by some
mysterious impulse. She endeavored to reflect calmly, but still she
could not, by any mode of conjecture, realize the probability of her
foes having returned and traced her thither. Yet an undefinable fear
still possessed her, and she endeavored with patience to await the
pleasure of her friends. But when the chief seated himself in her
vicinity, and fell into one of his fits of abstraction, and the whole
party became comparatively still and hushed, the poor girl's suspense
was almost insufferable. She knew that human beings were all around her,
and yet her situation was truly pitiable and lonely. She felt assured
that if the war-party had returned in pursuit of her, the means which
enabled them to trace their victim to the fallen trunk would likewise
have sufficed to indicate her hiding place. Then why should they
hesitate? The yells that awakened her were not heard distinctly, and
under the circumstances she could not believe that she was surrounded by
savages. On the other hand, if they were her friends, why did they not
relieve her? Now a sudden, but, alas! erroneous thought occurred to her.
She was persuaded that they were her friends, but that the friendly
Indian was not with them--he had perhaps directed them where she could
be found, and then returned to his home. Might not her friends, at that
moment, be anxiously searching for her? Would not one word suffice to
dispel their solicitude, and restore the lost one to their arms? She
resolved to speak. Bowing down her head slightly, so that her precise
location might not instantly be ascertained, she uttered in a soft voice
the word "FATHER!" The chief sprang from his seat, and the party was
instantly in commotion. Some of the savages looked above, among the
twining branches, and some shot their arrows in the snow, but
fortunately not in the direction of Mary while others ran about in every
direction, examining all the large trees in the vicinity. The chief was
amazed and utterly confounded. He drew not forth an arrow, nor
brandished a tomahawk. While he thus stood, and the rest of the party
were moving hurriedly about, a few paces distant, Mary again repeated
the word "FATHER!" As suddenly as if by enchantment every savage was
paralyzed. Each stood as devoid of animation as a statue. For many
moments an intense silence reigned, as if naught existed there but the
cheerless forest trees. Slowly at length, the tomahawk was returned to
the belt, and the arrow to the quiver. No longer was a desire to spill
blood manifested. The dusky children of the forest attributed to the
mysterious sound a supernatural agency. They believed it was a voice
from the perennial hunting grounds. Humbly they bowed their heads, and
whispered devotions to the Great Spirit. The young chief alone stood
erect. He gazed at the round moon above him, and sighs burst from his
breast, and burning tears ran down his stained cheek. Impatiently, by a
motion of the hand, he directed the savages to leave him, and when they
withdrew he resumed his seat on the fallen trunk, and reclined his brow
upon his hand. One of the long feathers that decked his head waved
forward, after he had been seated thus a few minutes, and when his eye
rested upon it he started up wildly, and tearing it away, trampled it
under his feet. At that instant the same "FATHER!" was again heard. The
young chief fell upon his knees, and, while he panted convulsively,
said, in English, "Father! Mother! I'm your poor William--you loved me
much--where are you? Oh tell me--I will come to you--I want to see you!"
He then fell prostrate and groaned piteously. "Father! Oh! where
are you?"

"Whose voice was that?" said Mary, breaking through the slight
incrustation that obscured her, and leaping from her covert.

The young chief sprang from the earth--gazed a moment at the maid--spoke
rapidly and loudly in the language of his tribe to his party, who were
now at the place of encampment, seated by the fire they had kindled--and
then, seizing his tomahawk, was in the act of hurling it at Mary, when
the yells of the war-party and the ringing discharges of fire-arms
arrested his steel when brandished in the air. The white men had
arrived! The young chief seized Mary by her long, flowing hair--again
prepared to strike the fatal blow--when she turned her face upward, and
he again hesitated. Discharges in quick succession, and nearer than
before, still rang in his ears. Mary strove not to escape. Nor did the
Indian strike. The whites were heard rushing through the bushes--the
chief seized the trembling girl in his arms--a bullet whizzed by his
head---but, unmindful of danger, he vanished among the dark bushes with
his burden.

"She's gone! she's gone!" exclaimed Roughgrove, looking aghast at the
vacated pit under the fallen trunk.

"But we will have her yet," said Boone, as he heard Glenn discharge a
pistol a few paces apart in the bushes. The report was followed by a
yell, not from the chief, but Sneak, and the next moment the rifle of
the latter was likewise heard. Still the Indian was not dispatched, for
the instant afterward his tomahawk, which had been hurled without
effect, came sailing over the bushes, and penetrated a tree hard by,
some fifteen or twenty feet above the earth, where it entered the wood
with such a force that it remained firmly fixed. Now succeeded a
struggle--a violent blow was heard--the fall of the Indian, and all was
still. A minute afterward Sneak emerged from the thicket, bearing Mary
in his arms, and followed by Glenn.

"Is she dead? Oh, she's dead!" cried Roughgrove, snatching her from the
arms of Sneak.

"She has only fainted!" exclaimed Glenn, examining the body of the girl,
and finding no wounds.

"She's recovering!" said Boone, feeling her pulse.

"God be praised!" exclaimed Roughgrove, when returning animation was
manifest.

"Oh, I know you won't kill me! for pity's sake, spare me!" said Mary.

"It is your father, my poor child!" said Roughgrove, pressing the girl
to his heart.

"It is! it is!" cried the happy girl, clinging rapturously to the old
man's neck, and then, seizing the hands of the rest, she seemed to be
half wild with delight.



SHIPWRECK OF THE MEDUSA.

On the 17th of June, 1816, the Medusa, French frigate, commanded by
Captain Chaumareys, and accompanied by three smaller vessels, sailed
from the island of Aix, for the coast of Africa, in order to take
possession of some colonies. On the 1st of July, they entered the
tropics; and there, with a childish disregard to danger, and knowing
that she was surrounded by all the unseen perils of the ocean, her crew
performed the ceremony usual to the occasion, while the vessel was
running headlong on destruction. The captain, presided over the
disgraceful scene of merriment, leaving the ship to the command of an M.
Richefort, who had passed the ten preceding years of his life in an
English prison--a few persons on board remonstrated in vain; though it
was ascertained that they were on the banks of Arguise, she continued
her course, and heaved the lead, without slackening the sail. Every
thing denoted shallow water, but M. Richefort persisted in saying that
they were in one hundred fathoms. At that very moment only six fathoms
were found; and the vessel struck three times, being in about sixteen
feet water, and the tide full flood. At ebb-tide, there remained but
twelve feet water; and after some bungling manoeuvres, all hope of
getting the ship off was abandoned.

When the frigate struck, she had on board six boats, of various
capacities, all of which could not contain the crew and passengers; and
a raft was constructed. A dreadful scene ensued. All scrambled out of
the wreck without order or precaution. The first who reached the boats
refused to admit any of their fellow-sufferers into them, though there
was ample room for more. Some, apprehending that a plot had been formed
to abandon them in the vessel, flew to arms. No one assisted his
companions; and Captain Chaumareys stole out of a port-hole into his own
boat, leaving a great part of the crew to shift for themselves. At
length they put off to sea, intending to steer for the sandy coast of
the desert, there to land, and thence to proceed with a caravan to the
island of St. Louis.

The raft had been constructed without foresight or intelligence. It was
about sixty-five feet long and twenty-five broad, but the only part
which could be depended upon was the middle; and that was so small, that
fifteen persons could not lie down upon it. Those who stood on the floor
were in constant danger of slipping through between the planks; the sea
flowed in on all its sides. When one hundred and fifty passengers who
were destined to be its burden, were on board, they stood like a solid
parallelogram, without a possibility of moving; and they were up to
their waists in water.

The desperate squadron had only proceeded three leagues, when a faulty,
if not treacherous manoeuvre, broke the tow-line which fastened the
captain's boat to the raft; and this became the signal to all to let
loose their cables. The weather was calm. The coast was known to be but
twelve or fifteen leagues distant; and the land was in fact discovered
by the boats on the very same evening on which they abandoned the raft.
They were not therefore driven to this measure by any new perils; and
the cry of "_Nous les abandonons_!" which resounded throughout the line,
was the yell of a spontaneous and instinctive impulse of cowardice,
perfidy, and cruelty; and the impulse was as unanimous as it was
diabolical. The raft was left to the mercy of the waves; one after
another, the boats disappeared, and despair became general. Not one of
the promised articles, no provisions, except a very few casks of wine,
and some spoiled biscuit, sufficient for one single meal was found. A
small pocket compass, which chance had discovered, their last guide in a
trackless ocean, fell between the beams into the sea. As the crew had
taken no nourishment since morning, some wine and biscuit were
distributed; and this day, the first of thirteen on the raft, was the
last on which they tasted any solid food--except such as human nature
shudders at. The only thing which kept them alive was the hope of
revenge on those who had treacherously betrayed them.

The first night was stormy; and the waves, which had free access,
committed dreadful ravages, and threatened worse. When day appeared,
twelve miserable wretches were found crushed to death between the
openings of the raft, and several more were missing; but the number
could not be ascertained, as several soldiers had taken the billets of
the dead, in order to obtain two, or even three rations. The second
night was still more dreadful, and many were washed off; although the
crew had so crowded together, that some were smothered by the mere
pressure. To soothe their last moments, the soldiers drank immoderately;
and one, who affected to rest himself upon the side, but was
treacherously cutting the ropes, was thrown into the sea. Another, whom
M. Correard had snatched from the waves, turned traitor a second time,
as soon as he recovered his senses; but he too was killed. At length the
revolted, who were chiefly soldiers, threw themselves upon their knees,
and abjectly implored mercy. At midnight, however, they rebelled again.
Those who had no arms, fought with their teeth, and thus many severe
wounds were inflicted. One was most wantonly and dreadfully bitten above
the heel, while his companions were beating him upon the head with their
carbines, before throwing him into the sea. The raft was strewed with
dead bodies, after innumerable instances of treachery and cruelty; and
from sixty to sixty-five perished that night. The force and courage of
the strongest began to yield to their misfortunes; and even the most
resolute labored under mental derangement. In the conflict, the revolted
had thrown two casks of wine, and all the remaining water, into the sea;
and it became necessary to diminish each man's share.

A day of comparative tranquillity succeeded. The survivors erected their
mast again, which had been wantonly cut down in the battle of the night;
and endeavored to catch some fish, but in vain. They were reduced to
feed on the dead bodies of their companions. A third night followed,
broken by the plaintive cries of wretches, exposed to every kind of
suffering, ten or twelve of whom died of want, and awfully foretold the
fate of the remainder. The following day was fine. Some flying fish were
caught in the raft; which, mixed up with human flesh, afforded one
scanty meal.

[Illustration]

A new insurrection to destroy the raft, broke out on the fourth night;
this too, was marked by perfidy, and ended in blood. Most of the rebels
were thrown into the sea. The fifth morning mustered but thirty men
alive; and these sick and wounded, with the skin of their lower
extremities corroded by the salt water. Two soldiers were detected
drinking the wine of the only remaining cask; they were instantly thrown
into the sea. One boy died, and there remained only twenty-seven; of
whom fifteen only seemed likely to live. A council of war, preceded by
the most horrid despair, was held; as the weak consumed a part of the
common store, they determined to throw them into the sea. This sentence
was put into immediate execution! and all the arms on board, which now
filled their minds with horror, were, with the exception of a single
sabre, committed to the deep. Distress and misery increased with an
accelerated ratio; and even after the desperate means of destroying
their companions, and eating the most nauseous aliments, the surviving
fifteen could not hope for more than a few days' existence. A butterfly
lighted on their sail the ninth day, and though it was held to be a
messenger of good, yet many a greedy eye was cast upon it.

Three days more passed over in inexpressible anguish, when they
constructed a smaller and more manageable raft, in the hope of directing
it to the shore; but on trial it was found insufficient. On the
seventeenth day, a brig was seen; which, after exciting the vicissitude
of hope and fear, proved to be the Argus, sent out in quest of the
Medusa. The inhabitants of the raft were all received on board, and were
again very nearly perishing, by a fire which broke out in the night. The
six boats which had so cruelly cast them adrift, reached the coast of
Africa in safety; and after many dangers among the Moors, the survivors
arrived at St. Louis.

After this, a vessel was dispatched to the wreck of the Medusa, to carry
away the money and provisions; after beating about for eight days, she
was forced to return. She again put to sea, but after being away five
days, again came back. Ten days more were lost in repairing her; and she
did not reach the spot till fifty-two days after the vessel had been
lost; and dreadful to relate, three miserable sufferers were found on
board. Sixty men had been abandoned there by their magnanimous
countrymen. All these had been carried off except seventeen, some of
whom were drunk, and others refused to leave the vessel. They remained
at peace as long as their provisions lasted. Twelve embarked on board a
raft, for Sahara, and were never more heard of. Another put to sea on a
hen-coop, and sunk immediately. Four remained behind, one of whom,
exhausted with hunger and fatigue, perished. The other three lived in
separate corners of the wreck, and never met but to run at each other
with drawn _knives_. They were put on board the vessel, with all that
could be saved from the wreck of the Medusa.

The vessel was no sooner seen returning to St. Louis, than every heart
beat high with joy, in the hope of recovering some property. The men and
officers of the Medusa jumped on board, and asked if any thing had been
saved. "Yes," was the reply, "but it is all ours now;" and the naked
Frenchmen, whose calamities had found pity from the Moors of the desert,
were now deliberately plundered by their own countrymen.

A fair was held in the town, which lasted eight days. The clothes,
furniture, and necessary articles of life belonging to the men and
officers of the Medusa, were publicly sold before their faces. Such of
the French as were able, proceeded to the camp at Daceard, and the sick
remained at St. Louis. The French governor had promised them clothes and
provisions, but sent none; and during five months, they owed their
existence to strangers--to the British.



HUNTING THE MOOSE.

The habits of the moose, in his manner of defence and attack, are
similar to those of the stag, and may be illustrated by the following
anecdote from the "Random Sketches of a Kentuckian:"

Who ever saw Bravo without loving him? His sloe-black eyes, his glossy
skin, flecked here and there with blue; his wide-spread thighs, clean
shoulders, broad back, and low-drooping chest, bespoke him the true
stag-hound; and none, who ever saw his bounding form, or heard his
deep-toned bay, as the swift-footed stag flew before him, would dispute
his title. List, gentle reader, and I will tell you an adventure which
will make you love him all the more.

A bright, frosty morning in November, 1838, tempted me to visit the
forest hunting-grounds. On this occasion, I was followed by a
fine-looking hound, which had been presented to me a few days before by
a fellow-sportsman. I was anxious to test his qualities, and, knowing
that a mean dog will not often hunt well with a good one, I had tied up
the eager Bravo, and was attended by the strange dog alone. A brisk
canter of half an hour brought me to the wild forest hills. Slackening
the rein, I slowly wound my way up a brushy slope some three hundred
yards in length. I had ascended about half way, when the hound began to
exhibit signs of uneasiness, and, at the same instant a stag sprang out
from some underbrush near by, and rushed like a whirlwind up the slope.
A word, and the hound was crouching at my feet, and my trained Cherokee,
with ear erect, and flashing eye, watched the course of the
affrighted animal.

"On the very summit of the ridge, full one hundred and fifty yards,
every limb standing out in bold relief against the clear, blue sky, the
stag paused, and looked proudly down upon us. After a moment of
indecision, I raised my rifle, and sent the whizzing lead upon its
errand. A single bound, and the antlered monarch was hidden from my
view. Hastily running down a ball, I ascended the slope; my blood ran a
little faster as I saw the gouts of blood' which stained the withered
leaves where he had stood. One moment more, and the excited hound was
leaping breast high on his trail, and the gallant Cherokee bore his
rider like lightning after them.

"Away--away! for hours we did thus hasten on, without once being at
fault, or checking our headlong speed. The chase had led us miles from
the starting-point, and now appeared to be bearing up a creek, on one
side of which arose a precipitous hill, some two miles in length, which
I knew the wounded animal would never ascend.

"Half a mile further on, another hill reared its bleak and barren head
on the opposite side of the rivulet. Once fairly in the gorge, there was
no exit save at the upper end of the ravine. Here, then, I must
intercept my game, which I was able to do by taking a nearer cut over
the ridge, that saved at least a mile.

"Giving one parting shout to cheer my dog, Cherokee bore me headlong to
the pass. I had scarcely arrived, when, black with sweat, the stag came
laboring up the gorge, seemingly, totally reckless of our presence.
Again I poured forth the 'leaden messenger of death,' as meteor-like he
flashed by us. One bound, and the noble animal lay prostrate within
fifty feet of where I stood. Leaping from my horse, and placing one knee
upon his shoulder, and a hand upon his antlers, I drew my hunting
knife; but scarcely had its keen point touched his neck, when, with a
sudden bound, he threw me from his body, and my knife was hurled from my
hand. In hunters' parlance, I had only 'creased him.' I at once saw my
danger, but it was too late. With one bound, he was upon me, wounding
and almost disabling me with his sharp feet and horns. I seized him by
his wide-spread antlers, and sought to regain possession of my knife,
but in vain; each new struggle drew us further from it. Cherokee,
frightened at the unusual scene, had madly fled to the top of the ridge,
where he stood looking down upon the combat, trembling and quivering in
every limb.

"The ridge road I had taken placed us far in advance of the hound, whose
bay I could not now hear. The struggles of the furious animal had become
dreadful, and every moment I could feel his sharp hoofs cutting deep
into my flesh; my grasp upon his antlers was growing less and less firm,
and yet I relinquished not my hold. The struggle had brought us near a
deep ditch, washed by the fall rains, and into this I endeavored to
force my adversary, but my strength was unequal to the effort; when we
approached to the very brink, he leaped over the drain. I relinquished
my hold and rolled in, hoping thus to escape him; but he returned to
the attack, and, throwing himself upon me, inflicted numerous severe
cuts upon my face and breast before I could again seize him. Locking my
arms around his antlers, I drew his head close to my breast, and was
thus, by great effort, enabled to prevent his doing me any serious
injury. But I felt that this could not last long; every muscle and fiber
of my frame was called into action, and human nature could not long bear
up under such exertion. Faltering a silent prayer to Heaven, I prepared
to meet my fate.

"At this moment of despair, I heard the faint bayings of the hound; the
stag, too, heard the sound, and, springing from the ditch, drew me with
him. His efforts were now redoubled, and I could scarcely cling to him.
Yet that blessed sound came nearer and nearer! Oh how wildly beat my
heart, as I saw the hound emerge from the ravine, and spring forward
with a short, quick bark, as his eye rested on his game. I released my
hold of the stag, who turned upon the new enemy. Exhausted, and unable
to rise, I still cheered the dog, that, dastard-like, fled before the
infuriated animal, who, seemingly despising such an enemy, again threw
himself upon me. Again did I succeed in throwing my arms around his
antlers, but not until he had inflicted several deep and dangerous
wounds upon my head and face, cutting to the very bone.

"Blinded by the flowing blood, exhausted and despairing, I cursed the
coward dog, who stood near, baying furiously, yet refusing to seize his
game. Oh! how I prayed for Bravo! The thoughts of death were bitter. To
die thus in the wild forest, alone, with none to help! Thoughts of home
and friends coursed like lightning through my brain. At that moment,
when Hope herself had fled, deep and clear over the neighboring hill,
came the baying of my gallant Bravo! I should have known his voice among
a thousand. I pealed forth in one faint shout, 'On Bravo, on!' The next
moment, with tiger-like bounds, the noble dog came leaping down the
declivity, scattering the dried autumnal leaves like a whirlwind in his
path. 'No pause he knew,' but, fixing his fangs in the stag's throat, he
at once commenced the struggle.

"I fell back completely exhausted. Blinded with blood, I only knew that
a terrible struggle was going on. In a few moments, all was still, and I
felt the warm breath of my faithful dog, as he licked my wounds.
Clearing my eyes from gore, I saw my late adversary dead at my feet, and
Bravo, 'my own Bravo,' as the heroine of a modern novel would say
standing over me. He yet bore around his neck a fragment of the rope
with which I had tied him. He had gnawed it in two, and, following his
master through all his windings, arrived in time to rescue him from a
horrible death.

"I have recovered from my wounds. Bravo is lying at my feet. Who does
not love Bravo? I am sure I do, and the rascal knows it--don't you,
Bravo? Come here, sir!"



PERILOUS ESCAPE FROM DEATH.

In the narrative of Moses Van Campen, we find the following incident
related. He was taken prisoner by the Seneca Indians, just after
Sullivan's expedition in the Revolution, on the confines of the white
settlements in one of the border counties of Pennsylvania. He was
marched through the wilderness, and reached the headquarters of the
savages near Fort Niagara. Here he was recognized as having, a year or
two previously, escaped, with two others, from his guard, five of whom
he slew in their sleep with his own hand.

[Illustration]

On this discovery being made, the countenances of the savages grew dark
and lowering. He saw at once that his fate was to be decided on the
principles of Indian vengeance, and, being bound, had but little hope of
escape. He, however, put on the appearance of as much unconcern as
possible. The Indians withdrew by themselves to decide in what manner
they should despatch their unhappy victim. They soon returned, their
visages covered with a demoniac expression. A few went to gathering
wood; another selected a spot, and soon a fire was kindled. Van Campen
looked upon these preparations, which were being made to burn him alive,
with feelings wrought up to the highest pitch of agony; yet he, with
much effort, appeared calm and collected. At last, when the preparations
were completed, two Indians approached, and began to unloose the cords
with which he was bound. To this he submitted. But the moment he was
fully loosed, he dashed the two Indians aside--felling one upon the
earth with a blow of his fist--and darted off toward the fort, where he
hoped to receive protection from the British officers. Tomahawks gleamed
in the air behind him--rifle balls whistled around--but onward still he
flew. One unarmed Indian stood in his path and intercepted him. With a
giant spring, he struck him in the breast with his feet, and bore him to
the earth. Recovering himself, he again started for the woods, and, as
he was running for life--with the fire and faggot behind him, and a
lingering death of torture--he soon outstripped all his pursuers. It
being near night, he effected his escape, arrived at the fort, and was
sent down the river to Montreal, to be out of the way of the savage
Senecas, who thirsted for his blood as a recompense for that of their
brethren whom he had slain.



FIRE IN THE FOREST.

"The summer of 1825 was unusually warm in both hemispheres, particularly
in America, where its effects were fatally visible in the prevalence of
epidemical disorders. During July and August, extensive fires raged in
different parts of Nova Scotia, especially in the eastern division of
the peninsular. The protracted drought of the summer, acting upon the
aridity of the forests, had rendered them more than naturally
combustible; and this, facilitating both the dispersion and the progress
of the fires that appeared in the early part of the season, produced an
unusual warmth. On the 6th of October, the fire was evidently
approaching New Castle; at different intervals fitful blazes and flashes
were observed to issue from different parts of the woods, particularly
up the northwest, at the rear of New Castle, in the vicinity of
Douglasstown and Moorfields, and along the banks of the Bartibog. Many
persons heard the crackling of falling trees and shriveled branches,
while a hoarse rumbling noise, not dissimilar to the roaring of distant
thunder, and divided by pauses, like the intermittent discharges of
artillery, was distinct and audible. On the 7th of October, the heat
increased to such a degree, and became so very oppressive, that many
complained of its enervating effects. About twelve o'clock, a pale,
sickly mist, lightly tinged with purple, emerged from the forest and
settled over it.

"This cloud soon retreated before a large, dark one, which, occupying
its place, wrapped the firmament in a pall of vapor. This incumbrance
retaining its position till about three o'clock, the heat became
tormentingly sultry. There was not a breath of air; the atmosphere was
overloaded; and irresistible lassitude seized the people. A stupefying
dullness seemed to pervade every place but the woods, which now
trembled, and rustled, and shook with an incessant and thrilling noise
of explosions, rapidly following each other, and mingling their reports
with a discordant variety of loud and boisterous sounds. At this time,
the whole country appeared to be encircled by a _fiery zone_, which,
gradually contracting its circle by the devastation it had made, seemed
as if it would not converge into a point while any thing remained to be
destroyed. A little after four o'clock, an immense pillar of smoke rose,
in a vertical direction, at some distance northeast of New Castle, for a
while, and the sky was absolutely blackened by this huge cloud; but a
light, northerly breeze springing up, it gradually distended, and then
dissipated into a variety of shapeless mists. About an hour after, or
probably at half past five, innumerable large spires of smoke, issuing
from different parts of the woods, and illuminated the flames that
seemed to pierce them, mounted the sky. A heavy and suffocating canopy,
extending to the utmost verge of observation, and appearing mere
terrific by the vivid flashes and blazes that darted irregularly through
it, now hung over New Castle and Douglass in threatening suspension,
while showers of flaming brands, calcined leaves, ashes, and cinders,
seemed to scream through the growling noise that prevailed in the woods.
About nine o'clock, P.M., or shortly after, a succession of loud and
appalling roars thundered through the forests. Peal after peal, crash
after crash, announced the sentence of destruction. Every succeeding
shock created fresh alarm; every clap came loaded with its own
destructive energy. With greedy rapidity did the flames advance to the
devoted scene of their ministry; nothing could impede their progress.
They removed every obstacle by the desolation they occasioned, and
several hundred miles of prostrate forests and smitten woods marked
their devastating way.

"The river, tortured into violence by the hurricane, foamed with rage,
and flung its boiling spray upon the land. The thunder pealed along the
vault of heaven--the lightning appeared to rend the firmament. For a
moment all was still, and a deep and awful silence reigned over every
thing. All nature appeared to be hushed, when suddenly a lengthened and
sullen roar came booming through the forests, driving a thousand massive
and devouring flames before it. Then New Castle and Douglasstown, and
the whole northern side of the river, extending from Bartibog to the
Naashwaak, a distance of more than one hundred miles in length, became
enveloped in an immense sheet of flame, that spread over nearly six
thousand square miles! That the reader may form a faint idea of the
desolation and misery, which no pen can describe, he must picture to
himself a large and rapid river, thickly settled for one hundred miles
or more on both sides of it. He must also fancy four thriving towns, two
on each side of this river, and then reflect that these towns and
settlements were all composed of wooden houses, stores, stables and
barns; that these barns and stables were filled with crops, and that the
arrival of the fall importations had stocked the warehouses and stores
with spirits, powder, and a variety of cumbustible articles, as well as
with the necessary supplies for the approaching winter. He must then
remember that the cultivated or settled part of the river is but a long,
narrow strip, about a quarter of a mile wide, lying between the river
and almost interminable forests, stretching along the very edge of its
precints and all around it. Extending his conception, he will see the
forests thickly expanding over more than six thousand square miles, and
absolutely parched into tinder by the protracted heat of a long summer.

"Let him then animate the picture, by scattering countless tribes of
wild animals, and hundreds of domestic ones, and even thousands of men
in the interior. Having done all this, he will have before him a feeble
outline of the extent, features, and general circumstances of the
country, which, in the course of a few hours, was suddenly enveloped in
fire. A more ghastly or a more revolting picture of human misery can not
well be imagined. The whole district of cultivated land was shrouded in
the agonizing memorials of some dreadful deforming havoc. The songs of
gladness that formerly resounded through it were no longer heard, for
the voice of misery had hushed them. Nothing broke upon the ear but the
accents of distress; the eye saw nothing but ruin, and desolation, and
death. New Castle, yesterday a flourishing town, full of trade and
spirit, and containing nearly one thousand inhabitants, was now a heap
of smoking ruins; and Douglasstown, nearly one-third of its size, was
reduced to the same miserable condition. Of the two hundred and sixty
houses and storehouses, that composed the former, but twelve remained;
and of the seventy that comprised the latter, but six were left. The
confusion on board of one hundred and fifty large vessels, then lying in
the Mirimachi, and exposed to imminent danger, was terrible--some burned
to the water's edge, others burning, and the remainder occasionally
on fire.

"Dispersed groups of half-famished, half-naked, and houseless creatures,
all more or less injured in their persons, many lamenting the loss of
some property, or children, or relations and friends, were wandering
through the country. Of the human bodies, some were seen with their
bowels protruding, others with the flesh all consumed, and the blackened
skeletons smoking; some with headless trunks, and severed extremities;
some bodies were burned to cinders, others reduced to ashes; many
bloated and swollen by suffocation, and several lying in the last
distorted position of convulsing torture; brief and violent was their
passage from life to death, and rude and melancholy was their
sepulchre--'unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.' The immediate loss of
life was upward of five hundred beings! Thousands of wild beasts, too,
had perished in the woods, and from their putrescent carcasses issued
streams of effluvium and stench that formed contagious domes over the
dismantled settlements. Domestic animals of all kinds lay dead and dying
in different parts of the country. Myriads of salmon, trout, bass, and
other fish, which, poisoned by the alkali formed by the ashes
precipitated into the river, now lay dead or floundering and gasping on
the scorched shores and beaches, and the countless variety of wild fowl
and reptiles shared a similar fate.

"Such was the violence of the hurricane, that large bodies of ignited
timber, and portions of the trunks of trees, and severed limbs, and also
parts of flaming buildings, shingles, boards, &c., were hurried along
through the frowning heavens with terrible velocity, outstripping the
fleetest horses, spreading destruction far in the advance, thus cutting
off retreat. The shrieks of the affrighted inhabitants, mingling with
the discordant bellowing of cattle, the neighing of horses, the howling
of dogs, and the strange notes of distress and fright from other
domestic animals, strangely blending with the roar of the flames and the
thunder of the tornado, beggars description.

"Their only means of safety was the river, to which there was a
simultaneous rush, seizing whatever was buoyant, however inadequate;
many attempted to effect a crossing; some succeeded; others failed, and
were drowned. One woman actually seized a bull by the tail, just as he
plunged into the river, and was safely towed to the opposite shore.
Those who were unable to make their escape across plunged into the water
to their necks, and, by a constant application of water to the head,
while in this submerged condition, escaped a dreadful burning. In some
portions of the country, the cattle were nearly all destroyed. Whole
crews of men, camping in the interior, and engaged in timber-making,
were consumed.

"Such was the awful conflagration of 1825, on the Mirimachi."



PIRATES OF THE RED SEA.

The commerce of the Red Sea has, almost from time immemorial, greatly
suffered from the depredations of Arab pirates, who infest the entire
coasts. The exploits of one individual is dwelt upon by his late
_confreres_ with particular enthusiasm; and his career and deeds were of
so extraordinary a character, that we feel justified in giving the
following brief detail of them, as furnished by an English traveler:

This dreadful man, Ramah ibn Java, the _beau ideal_ of his order, the
personation of an Arab sea robber, was a native of a small village near
Jiddah. At an early period he commenced a mode of life congenial to his
disposition and nature. Purchasing a boat, he, with a band of about
twelve companions, commenced his career as a pirate, and in the course
of a few months he had been so successful that he became the owner of a
vessel of three hundred tons, and manned with a lawless crew. It was a
part of his system to leave British vessels unmolested, and he even
affected to be on good terms with them. We have heard an old officer
describe his appearance. He was then about forty-five years of age,
short in stature, but with a figure compact and square, a constitution
vigorous, and the characteristic qualities of his countrymen--frugality,
and patience of fatigue. Several scars already seamed his face, and the
bone of his arm had been shattered by a matchlock ball when boarding a
vessel. It is a remarkable fact that the intermediate bones sloughed
away, and the arm, connected only by flesh and muscle, was still, by
means of a silver tube affixed around it, capable of exertion.

Ramah was born to be the leader of the wild spirits around him. With a
sternness of purpose that awed those who were near him into a degree of
dread, which totally astonished those who had been accustomed to view
the terms of equality in which the Arab chiefs appear with their
followers, he exacted the most implicit obedience to his will; and the
manner in which he acted toward his son exhibits the length he was
disposed to go with those who thwarted, or did not act up to, the spirit
of his views. The young man, then a mere stripling, had been dispatched
to attack some boats, but he was unsuccessful. "This, dastard, and son
of a dog!" said the enraged father, who had been watching the progress
of the affair, "you return unharmed to tell me! Fling him over the
side!" The chief was obeyed; and but for a boat, which by some chance
was passing some miles astern, he would have been drowned. Of his
existence the father for many months was wholly unconscious, and how he
was reconciled we never heard; but during the interval he was never
known to utter his name. No cause, it appears, existed for a repetition
of the punishment; for while yet a youth, he met the death his father
would have most coveted for him. He fell at the head of a party that was
bravely storming a fort.

Many other acts of cruelty are related of him. Having seized a small
trading boat, he plundered her, and then fastened the crew--five in
number--round the anchor, suspended it from the bows, cut the cable, and
let the anchor, with its living burden, sink to the bottom. He once
attacked a small town on the Persian Gulf. In this town lived one Abder
Russel, a personal friend of the narrator, who related the visit of the
pirates to his dwelling. Seized with a violent illness, he was stretched
on a pallet spread on a floor of his apartment; his wife, to whom he was
devotedly attached, was attending him, his head placed in her lap. A
violent noise arose below--the door was heavily assailed--it yielded--a
sharp conflict took place--shouting and a rushing on the stair-case was
heard, and the pirates were in the apartment. "I read their purpose,"
said Abder to me, "In their looks; but I was bed-ridden, and could not
raise a finger to save her for whose life I would gladly have forfeited
my own, Ramah, the pirate captain, approached her. Entreaties for life
were unavailing; yet for an instant her extreme beauty arrested his arm,
but it was only for an instant. His dagger again gleamed on high, and
she sank a bleeding victim beside me. Cold and apparently inanimate as I
was, I nevertheless felt her warm blood flowing past me, and with her
life it ebbed rapidly away. My eyes must have been fixed with the vacant
look of death: I even felt unmoved as he bent down beside me, and, with
spider-like fingers, stripped the jewels from my hand--the touch of that
villain who had deprived me of all which in life I valued. At length, a
happy insensibility stole over me. How long I remained in this condition
I know not; but when I recovered my senses, fever had left me--cool
blood again traversed my veins. Beside me was a faithful slave, who was
engaged bathing my temples. He had escaped the slaughter by secreting
himself while the murderers remained in the house."

Ramah, although a man of few words with his crew, was nevertheless very
communicative to our officers, whenever he fell in with them. According
to his own account, he managed them by never permitting any
familiarities, nor communicating big plans, and by an impartial
distribution of plunder; but the grand secret, he knew full well, was in
his utter contempt of danger, and that terrible, untaught eloquence, at
the hour of need, where time is brief, and sentences must be condensed
into words, which marked his career. Success crowned all his exploits;
he made war, and levied contributions on whom he pleased. Several times
he kept important sea-port towns in a state of blockade, and his
appearance was every where feared and dreaded.

He took possession of a small sandy islet, not many miles from his
native place, where he built a fort, and would occasionally sally forth,
and plunder and annoy any vessel that he met with. Although now
perfectly blind and wounded in almost every part of his body, yet such
was the dread inspired by the energy of this old chief, that, for a long
time, no one could be found willing to attack the single vessel which he
possessed. At length, a sheik, bolder than his neighbors, proceeded in
three heavy boats to attack Ramah. The followers of the latter, too well
trained to feel or express alarm, save that which arose from affection
for their chief, painted in strong terms the overwhelming superiority of
the approaching force, and counseled his bearing away from them; but he
spurned the idea. The evening drew near, and closed upon him. After a
severe contest they gained the deck. An instant after, dead and dying,
the victor and the vanquished, were given to the wind. Ramah, with a
spirit in accordance with the tenor of his whole career, finding the day
was going against him, was led by a little boy to the magazine, and
then, it is supposed, applied the pipe he had been smoking during the
action to the powder. Such, to his life, was the fitting end of the
pirate chief.

[Illustration: GENERAL JACKSON AND WEATHERFORD]



GEN. JACKSON AND WEATHERFORD.

After the battle of Tallapoosa, General Jackson returned with his
victorious army to Fort Williams; but, determined to give his enemy no
opportunity of retrieving the misfortune that had befallen him, he
recommenced operations immediately afterward. On the 7th of April, 1814,
he again set out for Tallapoosa, with the view of forming a junction
with the Georgia troops under Colonel Milton, and completing the
subjugation of the country. On the 14th of that month, the union of the
two armies was effected, and both bodies moved to a place called the
Hickory Ground, where, it was expected, the last final stand would be
made by the Indians, or terms of submission would be agreed on. The
principal chiefs of the different tribes had assembled here, and, on the
approach of the army, sent a deputation to treat for peace. Among them
was Weatherford, celebrated equally for his talents and cruelty, who had
directed the massacre at Fort Mimms. It had been the intention of
General Jackson, to inflict a signal punishment upon him, if ever in his
power. Struck, however, with the bold and nervous eloquence of this
fearless savage, and persuaded of the sincerity of his wishes for peace,
he dismissed him without injury. Some of the speeches of this warrior
have been preserved, and exhibit a beautiful specimen of the melancholy
but manly tone of a savage hero, lamenting the misfortunes of his race.
Addressing General Jackson, he said, "I am in your power--do with me as
you please. I am a soldier. I have done the white people all the harm I
could; I have fought them, and fought them bravely. There was a time
when I had a choice, and could have answered you: I have none now,--even
hope is ended. Once I could animate my warriors; but I can not animate
the dead. My warriors can no longer hear my voice; their bones are at
Talladega, Tallushatchee, Emuckfaw, and Tohopeka. While there was a
chance of success, I never left my post, nor supplicated peace. But my
people are gone; and I now ask it for my nation and myself." He shortly
afterward became the instrument of restoring peace, which was concluded
by the total submission of the Indians. They agreed to retire in the
rear of the army, and occupy the country to the east of the Coosa; while
a line of American posts was established from Tennessee and Georgia, to
the Alabama, and the power and resources of these tribes were thus
effectually destroyed.



CRUISE OF THE SALDANHA AND TALBOT.

At midnight of Saturday, the 30th of November, 1811, with a fair wind
and a smooth sea, we weighed from our station, in company with the
Saldanha frigate, of thirty-eight guns, Captain Packenham, with a crew
of three hundred men, on a cruise, as was intended, of twenty days--the
Saldanha taking a westerly course, while we stood in the opposite
direction.

We had scarcely got out of the lock and cleared the heads, however, when
we plunged at once into all the miseries of a gale of wind blowing from
the west. During the three following days, it continued to increase in
violence, when the islands of Coll and Tiree became visible to us. As
the wind had now chopped round more to the north, and continued unabated
in violence, the danger of getting involved among the numerous small
islands and rugged headlands, on the northwest coast of Inverness-shire,
became evident. It was therefore deemed expedient to wear the ship
round, and make a port with all expedition. With this view, and favored
by the wind, a course was shaped for Lochswilly, and away we scudded
under close-reefed foresail and main-topsail, followed by a tremendous
sea, which threatened every moment to overwhelm us, and accompanied by
piercing showers of hail, and a gale which blew with incredible fury.
The same course was steered until next day about noon, when land was
seen on the lee-bow. The weather being thick, some time elapsed before
it could be distinctly made out, and it was then ascertained to be the
island of North Arran, on the coast of Donegal, westward of Lochswilly.
The ship was therefore hauled up some points, and we yet entertained
hopes of reaching an anchorage before nightfall, when the weather
gradually thickened, and the sea, now that we were upon the wind, broke
over us in all directions. Its violence was such, that in a few minutes
several of our ports were stove in, at which the water poured in in
great abundance, until it was actually breast high on the lee-side of
the main deck. Fortunately, but little got below, and the ship was
relieved by taking in the foresail. But a dreadful addition was now made
to the precariousness of our situation, by the cry of "land a-head!"
which was seen from the forecastle, and must have been very near. Not a
moment was now lost in wearing the ship round on the other tack, and
making what little sail could be carried, to weather the land we had
already passed. This soon proved, however, to be a forlorn prospect, for
it was found that we should run our distance by ten o'clock. All the
horrors of shipwreck now stared us in the face, aggravated tenfold by
the darkness of the night, and the tremendous force of the wind, which
now blew a hurricane. Mountains are insignificant when speaking of the
sea that kept pace with it; its violence was awful beyond description,
and it frequently broke over all the poor little ship, that shivered and
groaned, but behaved admirably.

The force of the sea may be guessed from the fact of the sheet-anchor,
nearly a ton and a half in weight, being actually lifted on board, to
say nothing of the forechain-plates' board broken, both gangways torn
away, quarter-galleries stove in, &c. In short, on getting into port,
the vessel was found to be loosened through all her frame, and leaking
at every seam. As far as depended on her good qualities, however, I
felt assured at the time, we were safe, for I had seen enough of the
Talbot to be convinced we were in one of the finest sea-boats that ever
swam. But what could all the skill of the ship-builder avail in a
situation like ours? With a night full fifteen hours long before us, and
knowing that we were fast driving on the land, anxiety and dread were on
every face, and every mind felt the terrors of uncertainty and suspense.
At length, about twelve o'clock, the dreadful truth was disclosed to us!

Judge of my sensation when I saw the frowning rocks of Arran, scarcely
half a mile distant on our lee-bow. To our inexpressible relief, and not
less to our surprise, we fairly weathered all, and were congratulating
each other on our escape, when, on looking forward, I imagined I saw
breakers at no great distance on our lee; and this suspicion was soon
confirmed, when the moon, which shone at intervals, suddenly broke out
from behind a cloud, and presented to us a most terrific spectacle. At
not more than a quarter of a mile's distance on our lee-beam, appeared a
range of tremendous breakers, among which it seemed as if every sea
would throw us. Their height, it may be guessed, was prodigious, when
they could be clearly distinguished from the foaming waters of the
surrounded ocean. It was a scene seldom to be witnessed, and never
forgotten! "Lord have mercy upon us!" was now on the lip of every
one--destruction seemed inevitable. Captain Swaine, whose coolness I
have never seen surpassed, issued his orders clearly and collectedly,
when it was proposed, as a last resource, to drop the anchors, cut away
the masts, and trust to the chance of riding out the gale. This scheme
was actually determined on, and every thing was in readiness, but
happily was deferred until an experiment was tried aloft. In addition to
the close-reefed main-topsail and foresail, the fore-topsail, and
trysail were now set, and the result was almost magical. With a few
plunges, we cleared not only the reef, but a huge rock upon which I
could with ease have tossed a biscuit, and in a few minutes we were
inexpressibly rejoiced to see both far astern.

We had now miraculously escaped all but certain destruction a second
time, but much was yet to be feared. We had still to pass Cape Jeller,
and the moments dragged on in gloomy apprehension and anxious suspense.
The ship carried sail most wonderfully, and we continued to go along at
the rate of seven knots, shipping very heavy seas, and laboring
much--all with much solicitude looking out for daylight. The dawn at
length appeared, and to our great joy we saw the land several miles
astern, having passed the Cape and many other hidden dangers during
the darkness.

Matters, on the morning of the 5th, assumed a very different aspect from
that which we had experienced for the last two days; the wind gradually
subsided, and, with it the sea, and a favorable breeze now springing up,
we were enabled to make a good offing. Fortunately, no accident of
consequence occurred, although several of our people were severely
bruised by falls. Poor fellows! they certainly suffered enough; not a
dry stitch, not a dry hammock have they had since we sailed. Happily,
however, their misfortunes are soon forgot in a dry shirt and a can
of grog.

The most melancholy part of the narrative is still to be told. On coming
up to our anchorage, we observed an unusual degree of curiosity and
bustle in the fort; crowds of people were congregated on both sides,
running to and fro, examining us through spyglasses; in short, an
extraordinary commotion was apparent. The meaning of all this was but
too soon made known to us by a boat coming alongside, from which we
learned that the unfortunate Saldanha had gone to pieces, and every man
perished! Our own destruction had likewise been reckoned inevitable,
from the time of the discovery of the unhappy fate of our consort, five
days beforehand; and hence the astonishment at our unexpected return.
From all that could be learned concerning the dreadful catastrophe, I am
inclined to believe that the Saldanha had been driven on the rocks about
the time our doom appeared so certain in another quarter. Her lights
were seen by the signal-tower at nine o'clock of that fearful Wednesday
night, December 4th, after which it is supposed she went ashore on the
rocks at a small bay called Ballymastaker, almost at the entrance of
Lochswilly harbor.

Next morning the beach was strewed with fragments of the wreck, and
upward of two hundred of the bodies of the unfortunate sufferers were
washed ashore. One man--and one only--out of the three hundred, was
ascertained to have come ashore alive, but almost in a state of
insensibility. Unhappily, there was no person present to administer to
his wants judiciously, and, upon craving something to drink, about half
a pint of whiskey was given him by the people, which almost instantly
killed him. Poor Packenham's body was recognized amid the others, and
like these, stripped quite naked by the inhuman wretches, who flocked to
the wreck as to a blessing! It is even suspected that he came on shore
alive, but was stripped and left to perish. Nothing could equal the
audacity of the plunderers, although a party of the Lanark militia was
doing duty around the wreck. But this is an ungracious and revolting
subject, which no one of proper feeling would wish to dwell upon. Still
less am I inclined to describe the heart-rending scene at Buncrana,
where the widows of many of the sufferers are residing. The surgeon's
wife, a native of Halifax, has never spoken since the dreadful tidings
arrived. Consolation is inadmissible, and no one has yet ventured
to offer it.



A CARIB'S REVENGE.

In a work recently published in London, by Captain Millman, are to be
found some of the most thrilling scenes, from life in the tropics, it
has ever been our fortune to meet with. The following account of a
Carib's revenge on a sea captain, named Jack Diver, on one of the narrow
mountain paths of Guadaloupe, is exceedingly graphic and forcible:

While he was making up his mind, a dark figure had stolen unperceived
close behind him, with a small basket in his hand of split reeds, out of
which came a low buzzing, murmuring sound. He lay down quietly across
the path, at the point of the first angle of the elbow of the mountain
spar, not many feet from the hind legs of the horse. Jack Diver with a
scowling look, turned his horse round with some difficulty. It plunged
and reared slightly, but went on. Occupied with retaining his seat, the
master of the transport scarcely perceived the figure lying in the path.
He could not see who it was, for the face of the man was toward the
ground. But the horse saw it at once. The animal, accustomed to mountain
roads from its birth, had often stepped over both men and animals which
are sometimes forced in the narrowest parts to lie down to let the
heavier and stronger pass, in that highly dangerous and disagreeable
method, lifted his feet cautiously, one by one, so as not to tread on
the prostrate figure. As the horse was above him, the man lifted with
one hand the lid of the basket, and a swarm of wasps flew suddenly out,
buzzing and humming fiercely, and in a moment they began to settle on
the moving object. The horse commenced switching his tail to drive them
away, pricking up his ears, and snorting with terror.

The man on the path lay quite still until they had thus moved on a few
yards, and then he raised his head a little, and watched them with his
keen black eyes. The wasps, driven off for a moment, became only the
more irritated, and returned with vigor and wonderful pertinacity to the
attack,--beginning to sting the poor animal furiously in all the tender
parts. They assailed the wretched master in his turn, darting their
venomed barbs into his face and hands, and driving him nearly frantic.
The horse plunged furiously, and Jack Diver, losing his stirrups and his
presence of mind together, twisted his hands into the horse's mane, to
keep his seat, letting the reins fall on his neck. At last, with a rear
and a bound into the air, the maddened animal darted off at a gallop;
but the faster he went, the closer stuck the persevering wasps. Jack
Diver shut his eyes, screaming with fear and pain. Then the Carib chief
rose up, and again the hawk-like scream echoed along the valley. The
turn is to be made--can the horse recover himself? Yes, maddened as he
is, he sees the danger instinctively. His speed slackens--he throws
himself on his haunches, with his fore feet on the very brink of the
precipice. One more chance! The blind, infatuated man remains on his
back. Again the horse feels the stings of his deadly persecutors; again
he plunges forward, striving to turn quickly round the corner. Round,
and he is in comparative safety. On a sudden, from behind a buttress of
projecting rock, there start across the path three dusky forms,
flinging their hands wildly in the air. Then was heard that rare and
awful sound, the shriek of a horse in the fear of a certain and coming
death; when swerving one side, he lost his footing on the slippery
shelf, and struggling madly, but unsuccessfully, to recover it, he fell
over and over--down--down--a thousand feet down! From the sailor's lips
there came no cry.

[Illustration: GEN. COFFEE'S ATTACK ON THE INDIANS.]



MASSACRE OF FORT MIMMS.

On the 30th of August, 1813, Fort Mimms, which contained one hundred and
fifty men, under the command of Major Beasely, besides a number of women
and children, was surprised by a party of Indians. The houses were set
on fire, and those who escaped the flames fell victims to the tomahawk.
Neither age nor sex was spared; and the most horrible cruelties, of
which the imagination can conceive, were perpetrated. Out of the three
hundred persons which the fort contained, only seventeen escaped to
carry the dreadful intelligence to the neighboring stations.

This sanguinary and unprovoked massacre excited universal horror, and
the desire of revenge. The state of Tennessee immediately took active
measures for punishing the aggressors. General Jackson was ordered to
draft two thousand of the militia and volunteers of his division; and
General Coffee was directed to proceed with five hundred mounted men to
the frontier of the state. The former, having collected a part of his
force, joined General Coffee on the 12th of October, at Ditto's landing,
on the Tennessee. They then marched to the Ten Islands, in the same
river. A few days afterward, General Coffee was detached with nine
hundred men to attack a body of the enemy, posted at Tallushatchee. He
arrived early in the morning within a short distance of it, and,
dividing his force into two columns, completely surrounded it. The
Indians, for a long time, made a desperate resistance, and did all that
was possible for men to do who were in their situation. But they were
finally overpowered, with the loss of one hundred an eighty-six men.



THE FRESHET.

The freshet at Bangor, Me., in the spring of 1846, is thus described in
"Forest Life and Forest Trees:"

The first injury to the city was from the breaking away of a small
section of the jam, which came down and pressed against the ice on our
banks. By this, twenty houses in one immediate neighborhood, on the west
bank of the river alone, were at once inundated, but without loss of
life. This occurred in the daytime, and presented a scene of magnificent
interest. The effect of this small concussion upon the ice near the city
was terrific. The water rose instantly to such a height as to sweep the
buildings and lumber from the ends of the wharves, and to throw up the
ice in huge sheets and pyramids. This shock was resisted by the great
covered bridge on the Penobscot, which is about one thousand feet in
length, and this gave time to save much property But meanwhile another
auxiliary to the fearful work had been preparing, by the breaking up of
the ice in the Kenduskeag river. This river flows through the heart of
the city, dividing it into two equal portions. The whole flat, on the
margin of the river, is covered with stores and public buildings, and is
the place of merchandise for the city. The Kenduskeag runs nearly at
right angles with the Penobscot, at the point where they unite. The
Penobscot skirts the city on the eastern side, and on the banks of this
river are the principal wharves for the deposit of lumber.

I must mention another circumstance to give you a just idea of our
situation. There is a narrow spot in the river, about a mile below the
city, at High Head, in which is a shoal, and from which the greatest
danger of a jam always arises, and it was this that caused the principal
inundation.

The next incident occurred at midnight, when the bells were rung to
announce the giving way of the ice. It was a fearful sound and scene.
The streets were thronged with men, women, and children, who rushed
abroad to witness the approach of the icy avalanche. At length it came
rushing on with a power that a thousand locomotives in a body could not
vie with; but it was vailed from the eye by the darkness of a hazy
night, and the ear only could trace its progress by the sounds of
crashing buildings, lumber, and whatever it encountered in its pathway,
except the glimpses that could be caught of it by the light of hundreds
of torches and lanterns that threw their glare upon the misty
atmosphere. The jam passed on, and a portion of it pressed through the
weakest portion of the great bridge, and thus, joining the ice below the
bridge, pressed it down to the narrows at High Head. The destruction,
meanwhile, was in progress on the Kenduskeag, which poured down its
tributary ice, sweeping mills, bridges, shops, and other buildings, with
masses of logs and lumber, to add to the common wreck.

At that moment, the anxiety and suspense were fearful whether the jam
would force its way through the narrows, or there stop and pour back a
flood of waters upon the city; for it was from the rise of the water
consequent upon such a jam that the great destruction was to be
apprehended. But the suspense was soon over. A cry was heard from the
dense mass of citizens who crowded the streets on the flat, "The river
is flowing back!" and so sudden was the revulsion, that it required the
utmost speed to escape the rising waters. It seemed but a moment before
the entire flat was deluged; and many men did not escape from their
stores before the water was up to their waists. Had you witnessed the
scene, occurring as it did in the midst of a dark and hazy night, and
had you heard the rushing of the waters, and the crash of the ruins,
and seen the multitudes retreating in a mass from the returning flood,
illumined only by the glare of torches and lanterns, and listened to the
shouts and cries that escaped from them to give the alarm to those
beyond, you would not be surprised at my being reminded of the host of
Pharaoh as they fled and sent up their cry from the Red Sea, as it
returned upon them in its strength.

"The closing scene of this dreadful disaster occurred on Sunday evening,
beginning at about seven o'clock. The alarm was again rung through the
streets that the jam had given way. The citizens again rushed abroad to
witness what they knew must be one of the most sublime and awful scenes
of nature, and also to learn the full extent of their calamity. Few,
however, were able to catch a sight of the breaking up of the jam,
which, for magnitude, it is certain, has not occurred on this river for
more than one hundred years. The whole river was like a boiling
cauldron, with masses of ice upheaved as by a volcano. But soon the
darkness shrouded the scene in part. The ear, however, could hear the
roaring of the waters and the crash of buildings, bridges, and lumber,
and the eye could trace the mammoth ice-jam of four miles long, which
passed on majestically, but with lightning rapidity, bearing the
contents of both rivers on its bosom, The noble covered bridge of the
Penobscot, two bridges of the Kenduskeag, and the two long ranges of
saw-mills, besides other mills, houses, shops, logs, and lumber enough
to build up a considerable village. The new market floated over the
lower bridge across the Kenduskeag, a part of which remains, and, most
happily, landed at a point of the wharves, where it sunk, and formed the
nucleus of a sort of boom, which stopped the masses of floating lumber
in the Kenduskeag, and protected thousands of dollars' worth of lumber
on the wharves below."



THE PANTHER'S DEN.

The occupants of a few log cabins in the vicinity of the Bayou Manlatte,
a tributary of the noble Bay of Pensacola, situated in the western part
of the then territory of Florida, had been for some weeks annoyed by the
mysterious disappearance of the cattle and goats, which constituted
almost the only wealth of these rude countrymen; and the belated
herdsman was frequently startled by the terrible half human cry of the
dreaded panther, and the next morning, some one of the squatters would
find himself minus of a number of cloven feet. About this time I
happened into the settlement on a hunting excursion, in company with
another son of Nimrod, and learning the state of affairs, resolved, if
possible, to rid the "clearing" of its pest, and bind new laurels on our
brows. The night before our arrival, a heifer had been killed within a
few rods of the cabin, and the carcass dragged off toward the swamp,
some two miles distant, leaving a broad trail to mark the destroyer's
path; this being pointed out to us, Ned and myself resolved to execute
our enterprise without delay--this was to "beard the lion in his den."
Having carefully charged our rifles and pistols, and seen that our
bowies were as keen as razors, we set out on the trail, which soon
brought us to the edge of the Bayou Manlatte swamp--which covers a
surface of some thousands of acres, being a dense muddy hammock of teti,
bay, magnolia, cane, grape vines, &c. A perpetual twilight reigned
beneath the dense foliage supported by the rank soil, and our hearts
beat a few more pulsations to the minute, as we left the scorching glare
of the noon day sun, and plunged into the gloomy fastnesses of the bear
and alligator; to these latter gentlemen, whose clumsy forms were
sprawling through the mud on every side, we gave no further heed other
than to keep without the range of the deadly sweep of their powerful
tails, with which they bring their unsuspecting prey within reach of
their saw-like jaws; the bears we did not happen to meet, or we should
most assuredly have given them some of the balls designed for
the panthers.

Well, we followed the trail half a mile into the swamp, when on an
elevated spot, we suddenly encountered the half-devoured body of the
unfortunate heifer, apparently just deserted by the captors. We
cautiously advanced a few paces further over a pavement of bones, "clean
scraped and meatless," and entered an open space, when a sight met my
eyes which certainly made me wish myself safe at home, or in fact,
anywhere else but where I was. About twenty-five feet from us we saw,
instead of one, an old she-panther and two cubs nearly grown, while
directly over them, on the blasted and sloping trunk of an immense
gum-tree, crouched the "old he one of all," lashing his sides fiercely
with his tail, and snorting and spitting like an enraged cat, an example
which was imitated by the three below. Here was a dilemma, on the
particularly sharp horns of which we found ourselves most uncomfortably
situated. To retreat would induce an immediate attack, the consequence
of an advance would be ditto, so we stood _en tableaux_, for a brief
second, our guns cocked and aimed, Ned drawing a bead on the dam, while
I did the same on the sire. It seemed madness to fire. We were not long
uncertain as to our course, for the old fellow suddenly bounded from the
trunk upon me, with a deafening roar. I fired as he sprang, and the
report of my piece was re-echoed by that of Ned's. I sprang aside,
dropping my rifle and drawing my long and heavy knife; it was well I did
so, for the mortally-wounded beast alighted on the very spot I had left.
He turned and sprang upon me. I avoided the blow of its powerful paw,
and grappling with him I rolled on the turf, winding my right arm tight
around his neck, and hugging close to his body to avoid his teeth and
claws, while I dealt rapid thrusts with my knife. I was very powerful;
but never was in a situation where I felt more sensibly the need of
exerting all my muscle. The contest was soon decided--my knife passing
through the brute's heart--

     "And panting from the dreadful close,
      And breathless all, the champion rose."

And it was full time that I should do so, for Ned, having put a ball
through the head of the dam, was now manfully battling with her two
cubs; the poor fellow was sore pressed, streaming with blood from
numberless scratches, and almost in a state of nature, for the sharp
claws of the cubs had literally undressed him by piecemeal. His savage
assailants also, bore upon their bloody hides numerous tokens of his
prowess in wielding his bowie.

Their system of attack seemed to be to spring suddenly upon him,
striking with their paws, and as they did so, in most instances,
simultaneously, it was impossible for him to defend himself, strong and
active as he was; and had no assistance been at hand, they would
undoubtedly have gained the victory. It was a brave sight though, to see
the tall, strong hunter, meeting their attacks undauntedly, standing
with his left arm raised to defend his head and throat, and darting his
knife into their tough bodies as he threw them from him, but to meet the
next moment their renewed efforts for his destruction.

All this I caught at one glance, as I rushed to his rescue. "Ned!"
shouted I, mad and reckless with excitement, "take the one on your
left!" And we threw ourselves upon them. I met my antagonist in his
onward leap, and making a desperate blow at him, my wrist struck his
paw, and the knife flew far from my hand. There was nothing else for me
but to seize him by the loose skin of the neck with both hands, and hold
on like "grim death," keeping him at arm's length, while his paws beat a
tattoo to a double quick time on my breast and body, stripping my
garments into ribbons in a most workmanlike manner, and ornamenting my
sensitive skin with a variety of lines and characters, done in red--a
process which I did not care to prolong, however, beyond a period when I
could soonest put a stop to the operation.

As I was debating how to attain so desirable an end, the remembrance of
the small rifle pistol, in my belt, and which, till now, in the hurry of
the conflict I had forgotten, suddenly flashed upon my mind, and,
disengaging one hand, I drew it forth, cocked it with my thumb, and the
next moment the panther's brains were spattered in my face.

I turned to look for Ned, and found him trying to free himself from the
dead body of the panther, whose teeth were fastened, in their death
grip, to the small remnant of his hunting coat which hung around his
neck; I separated the strip of cloth with my recovered knife, and we
sank panting to the ground, while our hearts went up in thankfulness for
deliverance from so imminent danger to life and limb. After resting
awhile, we washed the blood--our blood--from our bodies, and decorating
them with "what was left," somewhat after the fashion of the Indian who
wears only a "breech clout," we took the scalps of the four panthers,
and started on our homeward march. Our success was speedily known in the
clearing, and in the evening a barbecue was had in oar honor, to
furnish which a relation of the unfortunate heifer met with a fate
scarcely less terrible. This exploit added not little to our reputation
among the hunter folk.



ADVENTURE WITH ELEPHANTS.

On the 27th, as day dawned, says Mr. Cumming, I left my shooting-hole,
and proceeded to inspect the spoor of my wounded rhinoceros. After
following it for some distance I came to an abrupt hillock, and fancying
that from the summit a good view might be obtained of the surrounding
country, I left my followers to seek the spoor, while I ascended. I did
not raise my eyes from the ground until I had reached the highest
pinnacle of rock. I then looked east, and to my inexpressible
gratification, beheld a troup of nine or ten elephants quietly browsing
within a quarter of a mile of me. I allowed myself only one glance at
them, and then rushed down to warn my followers to be silent. A council
of war was hastily held, the result of which was my ordering Isaac to
ride hard to camp, with instructions to return as quickly as possible,
accompanied by Kleinboy, and to bring me my dogs, the large Dutch
rifle, and a fresh horse. I once more ascended the hillock to feast my
eyes upon the enchanting sight before me, and, drawing out my spy-glass,
narrowly watched the motions of the elephants. The herd consisted
entirely of females, several of which were followed by small calves.

Presently, on reconnoitering the surrounding country, I discovered a
second herd, consisting of five bull elephants, which were quietly
feeding about a mile to the northward. The cows were feeding toward a
rocky ridge that stretched away from the base of the hillock on which I
stood. Burning with impatience to commence the attack, I resolved to try
the stalking system with these, and to hunt the troop of bulls with dogs
and horses. Having thus decided, I directed the guides to watch the
elephants from the summit of the hillock, and with a beating heart I
approached them. The ground and wind favoring me, I soon gained the
rocky ridge toward which they were feeding. They were now within one
hundred yards, and I resolved to enjoy the pleasure of watching their
movements for a little before I fired. They continued to feed slowly
toward me, breaking the branches from the trees with their trunks, and
eating the leaves and tender shoots. I soon selected the finest in the
herd, and kept my eye on her in particular. At length two of the troup
had walked slowly past at about sixty yards, and the one which I had
selected was feeding with two others, on a thorny tree before me.

My hand was now as steady as the rock on which it rested; so, taking a
deliberate aim, I let fly at her head, a little behind the eye. She got
it hard and sharp, just where I aimed, but it did not seem to affect her
much. Uttering a loud cry, she wheeled about, when I gave her the second
ball close behind the shoulder. All the elephants uttered a strange
rumbling noise, and made off in a line to the northward at a brisk
ambling pace, their huge, fan-like ears flapping in the ratio of their
speed. I did not wait to load, but ran back to the hillock to obtain a
view. On gaining its summit, the guides pointed out the elephants: they
were standing in a grove of shady trees, but the wounded one was some
distance behind with another elephant, doubtless its particular friend,
who was endeavoring to assist it. These elephants had probably never
before heard the report of a gun, and, having neither seen nor smelt me,
they were unaware of the presence of man, and did not seem inclined to
go any further. Presently my men hove in sight, bringing the dogs; and
when these came up, I waited some time before commencing the attack,
that the dogs and horses might recover their wind. We then rode slowly
toward the elephants, and had advanced within two hundred yards of them
when, the ground being open, they observed us and made off in an
easterly direction; but the wounded one immediately dropped astern, and
the next moment was surrounded by the dogs, which, barking angrily,
seemed to engross all her attention.

Having placed myself between her and the retreating troop, I dismounted
to fire, within forty yards of her, in open ground. Colesberg was
extremely afraid of the elephants, and gave me much trouble, jerking my
arm when I tried to fire. At length I let fly; but, on endeavoring to
regain my saddle, Colesberg declined to allow me to mount; and when I
tried to lead him, and run for it, he only backed toward the wounded
elephant. At this moment I heard another elephant close behind; and
looking about, I beheld the "friend," with uplifted trunk, charging down
upon me at top speed, shrilly trumpeting, and following an old black
pointer named Schwart, that was perfectly deaf and trotted along before
the enraged elephant quite unaware of what was behind him. I felt
certain that she would have either me or my horse. I, however,
determined not to relinquish my steed, but to hold on by the bridle. My
men, who, of course, kept at a safe distance, stood aghast with their
mouths open, and for a few seconds my position was certainly not an
enviable one. Fortunately, however, the dogs took off the attention of
the elephants; and just as they were upon me, I managed to spring into
the saddle, where I was safe. As I turned my back to mount, the
elephants were so very near that I really expected to feel one of their
trunks lay hold of me. I rode up to Kleinboy for my double-barreled
two-grooved rifle: he and Isaac were pale and almost speechless with
fright. Returning to the charge, I was soon once more alongside and,
firing from the saddle, I sent another brace of bullets into the wounded
elephant. Colesberg was extremely unsteady, and destroyed the
correctness of my aim.

[Illustration: CHARGE OF THE ELEPHANTS.]

The friend now seemed resolved to do some mischief, and charged me
furiously, pursuing me to a distance of several hundred yards. I
therefore deemed it proper to give her a gentle hint to act less
officiously, and, accordingly, having loaded, I approached within thirty
yards, and give it her sharp, right and left, behind the shoulder, upon
which she at once made off with drooping trunk, evidently with a mortal
wound. I never recur to this day's elephant shooting without regretting
my folly in contenting myself with securing only one elephant. The
first was now dying, and could not leave the ground, and the second was
also mortally wounded, and I had only to follow and finish her; but I
foolishly allowed her to escape, while I amused myself with the first,
which kept walking backward, and standing by every tree she passed. Two
more shots finished her: on receiving them, she tossed her trunk up and
down two or three times, and, falling on her broadside against a thorny
tree, which yielded like grass before her enormous weight, she uttered a
deep, hoarse cry, and expired. This was a very handsome old cow
elephant, and was decidedly the best in the troop. She was in excellent
condition, and carried a pair of long and perfect tusks. I was in high
spirits at my success, and felt so perfectly satisfied with having
killed one, that, although it was still early in the day, and my horses
were fresh, I allowed the troop of five bulls to remain unmolested,
foolishly trusting to fall in with them next day.



THE SHARK SENTINEL.

With my companion, one beautiful afternoon, rambling over the rocky
cliffs at the back of the island, (New Providence, W.I.,) we came to a
spot where the stillness and the clear transparency of the water invited
us to bathe. It was not deep. As we stood above, on the promontory, we
could see the bottom in every part. Under the headland, which formed the
opposite side of the cove, there was a cavern, to which, as the shore
was steep, there was no access but by swimming, and we resolved to
explore it. We soon reached its mouth, and were enchanted with its
romantic grandeur and wild beauty. It extended, we found, a long way
back, and had several natural baths, into all of which we successively
threw ourselves; each, as they receded further from the mouth of the
cavern, being colder than the last. The tide, it was evident, had free
ingress, and renewed the water every twelve hours. Here we thoughtlessly
amused ourselves for some time.

At length the declining sun warned us that it was time to take our
departure from the cave, when, at no great distance from us, we saw the
back or dorsal fin of a monstrous shark above the surface of the water,
and his whole length visible beneath it. We looked at him and at each
other in dismay, hoping that he would soon take his departure, and go in
search of other prey; but the rogue swam to and fro, just like a frigate
blockading an enemy's port.

The sentinel paraded before us, about ten or fifteen yards in front of
the cave, tack and tack, waiting only to serve one, if not both of us,
as we should have served a shrimp or an oyster. We had no intention,
however, in this, as in other instances, of "throwing ourselves on the
mercy of the court." In vain did we look for relief from other quarters;
the promontory above us was inaccessible; the tide was rising, and the
sun touching the clear, blue edge of the horizon.

I, being the leader, pretended to a little knowledge in ichthyology, and
told my companion that fish could hear as well as see, and that
therefore the less we said, the better; and the sooner we retreated out
of his sight, the sooner he would take himself off. This was our only
chance, and that a poor one for the flow of the water would soon have
enabled him to enter the cave and help himself, as he seemed perfectly
acquainted with the _locale_, and knew that we had no mode of retreat,
but by the way we came. We drew back out of sight, and I don't know
when I ever passed a more unpleasant quarter of an hour. A suit in
chancery, or even a spring lounge at Newgate, would have been almost a
luxury to what I felt when the shades of night began to darken the mouth
of our cave, and this infernal monster continued to parade, like a
water-bailiff, before its door. At last, not seeing the shark's fin
above the water, I made a sign to Charles, that cost what it might, we
must swim for it, for we had notice to quit by the tide; and if we did
not depart, should soon have an execution in the house. We had been
careful not to utter a word, and, silently pressing each other by the
hand, we slipped into the water; and, recommending ourselves to
Providence, struck out manfully. I must own I never felt more assured of
destruction, not even when I once swam through the blood of a poor
sailor--while the sharks were eating him--for the sharks then had
something to occupy them; but this one had nothing else to do but to
look after us--we had the benefit of his undivided attention.

My sensations were indescribably horrible. I may occasionally write or
talk of the circumstance with levity, but whenever I recall it to mind,
I tremble at the bare recollection of the dreadful fate that seemed
inevitable. My companion was not so expert a swimmer as I was, so that I
distanced him many feet, when I heard him utter a faint cry. I turned
round, convinced that the shark had seized him, but it was not so; my
having left him so far behind had increased his terror, and induced him
to draw my attention. I returned to him, held him up, and encouraged
him. Without this he would certainly have sunk; he revived with my help,
and we reached the sandy beach in safety, having eluded our enemy, who,
when he neither saw nor heard us, had, as I concluded he would,
quitted the spot.

Once more on terra firma, we lay gasping for some minutes before we
spoke. What my companions thoughts were, I do not know; mine were
replete with gratitude to God, and renewed vows of amendment; and I have
every reason to think, that although Charles had not so much room for
reform as myself, that his feelings were perfectly in unison with
my own.

We never repeated this amusement, though we frequently talked of our
escape and laughed at our terrors, yet, on these occasions, our
conversation always took a serious turn; and, upon the whole, I am
convinced that this adventure did us both a vast deal of good.

[ILLUSTRATION: HUNTING THE TIGER]



HUNTING THE TIGER.

A Gentleman in the civil service of the British East India Company,
relates the following:

"When a tiger springs on an elephant, the latter is generally able to
shake him off under his feet, and then woe be to him. The elephant
either kneels on him and crushes him at once, or gives him a kick which
breaks half his ribs, and sends him flying perhaps twenty paces. The
elephants, however, are often dreadfully torn; and a large old tiger
clings too fast to be thus dealt with. In this case it often happens
that the elephant himself falls, from pain, or from the hope of rolling
on his enemy; and the people on his back are in very considerable danger
both from friends and foes. The scratch of a tiger is sometimes
venomous, as that of a cat is said to be. But this does not often
happen; and, in general, persons wounded by his teeth or claws, if not
killed outright, recover easily enough.

"I was at Jaffna, at the northern extremity of the Island of Ceylon, in
the beginning of the year 1819: when, one morning, my servant called me
an hour or two before my usual time, with, 'Master, master! people sent
for master's dogs--tiger in the town!' Now, my dogs chanced to be some
very degenerate specimens of a fine species, called the _Poligar_ dog,
which I should designate as a sort of wiry-haired grayhound, without
scent. I kept them to hunt jackals; but tigers are very different
things: by the way, there are no real tigers in Ceylon; but leopards and
panthers are always called so, and by ourselves as well as by the
natives. This turned out to be a panther. My gun chanced not to be put
together; and while my servant was doing it, the collector, and two
medical men, who had recently arrived, came to my door, the former armed
with a fowling-piece, and the latter with remarkably blunt hog-spears.
They insisted upon setting off without waiting for my gun, a proceeding
not much to my taste. The tiger (I must continue to call him so) had
taken refuge in a hut, the roof of which, as those of Ceylon huts in
general, spread to the ground like an umbrella; the only aperture into
it was a small door, about four feet high. The collector wanted to get
the tiger out at once. I begged to wait for my gun; but no--the
fowling-piece (loaded with ball, of course) and the two hog-spears were
quite enough. I got a hedge-stake, and awaited my fate, from very shame.
At this moment, to my great delight, there arrived from the fort an
English officer, two artillery-men, and a Malay captain; and a pretty
figure we should have cut without them, as the event will show. I was
now quite ready to attack, and my gun came a minute afterward. The whole
scene which follows took place within an enclosure, about twenty feet
square, formed, on three sides, by a strong fence of palmyra leaves, and
on the fourth by the hut. At the door of this the two artillery-men
planted themselves; and the Malay captain got on the top, to frighten
the tiger out, by worrying it--an easy operation, as the huts there are
covered with cocoa-nut leaves. One of the artillery-men wanted to go in
to the tiger, but we would not suffer it. At last the beast sprang; this
man received him on his bayonet, which he thrust apparently down his
throat, firing his piece at the same moment. The bayonet broke off
short, leaving less than three inches on the musket; the rest remained
in the animal, but was invisible to us: the shot probably went through
his cheek, for it certainly did not seriously injure him, as he
instantly rose upon his legs, with a loud roar, and placed his paws upon
the soldier's breast. At this moment, the animal appeared to me to about
reach the center of the man's face; but I had scarcely time to observe
this, when the tiger, stooping his head, seized the soldier's arm in his
mouth, turned him half round staggering, threw him over on his back,
and fell upon him. Our dread now was, that if we fired upon the tiger,
we might kill the man: for a moment there was a pause, when his comrade
attacked the beast exactly in the same manner as the gallant fellow
himself had done. He struck his bayonet into his head; the tiger rose at
him--he fired; and this time the ball took effect, and in the head. The
animal staggered backward, and we all poured in our fire. He still
kicked and writhed; when the gentlemen with the hog-spears advanced, and
fixed him, while the natives finished him, by beating him on the head
with hedge-stakes. The brave artillery-man was, after all, but slightly
hurt: he claimed the skin, which was very cheerfully given to him. There
was, however, a cry among the natives that the head should be cut off:
it was; and in so doing, the knife came directly across the bayonet. The
animal measured scarcely less than four feet from the root of the tail
to the muzzle There was no tradition of a tiger having been in Jaffna
before; indeed, this one must have either come a distance of almost
twenty miles, or have swam across an arm of the sea nearly two in
breadth; for Jaffna stands on a peninsula, on which there is no jungle
of any magnitude."



INDIAN DEVIL.

There is an animal in the deep recesses of the forests of Maine,
evidently belonging to the feline race, which, on account of its
ferocity, is significantly called "Indian Devil"--in the Indian
language, "the Lunk Soos;" a terror to the Indians, and the only animal
in New England of which they stand in dread. You may speak of the moose,
the bear, and the wolf even, and the red man is ready for the chase and
the encounter. But name the object of his dread, and he will
significantly shake his head, while he exclaims, "He all one debil!"

An individual by the name of Smith met with the following adventure in
an encounter with one of these animals on the Arromucto, while on his
way to join a crew engaged in timber-making in the woods.

He had nearly reached the place of encampment, when he came suddenly
upon one of these ferocious animals. There was no chance for retreat,
neither had he time for reflection on the best method of defence or
escape. As he had no arms or other weapons of defence, his first
impulse, in this truly fearful position, unfortunately, perhaps, was to
spring into a small tree near by; but he had scarcely ascended his
length when the desperate creature, probably rendered still more fierce
by the promptings of hunger, sprang upon and seized him by the heel.
Smith, however, after having his foot badly bitten, disengaged it from
the shoe, which was firmly clinched in the creature's teeth, and let him
drop. The moment he was disengaged, Smith sprang for a more secure
position, and the animal at the same time leaped to another large tree,
about ten feet distant, up which he ascended to an elevation equal to
that of his victim, from which he threw himself upon him, firmly fixing
his teeth in the calf of his leg. Hanging suspended thus until the
flesh, insufficient to sustain the weight, gave way, he dropped again to
the ground, carrying a portion of flesh in his mouth. Having greedily
devoured this morsel, he bounded again up the opposite tree, and from
thence upon Smith, in this manner renewing his attacks, and tearing away
the flesh in mouthfuls from his legs. During this agonizing operation,
Smith contrived to cut a limb from the tree, to which he managed to bind
his jack-knife, with which he could now assail his enemy at every leap.
He succeeded thus in wounding him so badly that at length his attacks
were discontinued, and he finally disappeared in the dense forest.
During the encounter, Smith had exerted his voice to the utmost to alarm
the crew, who, he hoped, might be within hail. He was heard, and in a
short time several of the crew reached the place, but not in time to
save him from the dreadful encounter. The sight was truly appalling. His
garments were not only rent from him, but the flesh literally torn from
his legs, exposing even the bone and sinews. It was with the greatest
difficulty he made the descent of the tree. Exhausted through loss of
blood, and overcome by fright and exertion, he sunk upon the ground and
immediately fainted; but the application of snow restored him to
consciousness. Preparing a litter from poles and boughs, they conveyed
him to the camp, washed and dressed his wounds, as well as circumstances
would allow, and, as soon as possible, removed him to the settlement,
where medical aid was secured. After a protracted period of confinement,
he gradually recovered from his wounds, though still carrying terrible
scars, and sustaining irreparable injury. Such desperate encounters are,
however of rare occurrence, though collisions less sanguinary are not
infrequent.



BEAR FIGHT.

A sanguinary encounter with bears took place in the vicinity of
Tara-height, on the Madawaska river, a few years since:

"A trap had been set by one of the men, named Jacob Harrison, who, being
out in search of a yoke of oxen on the evening in question, saw a young
bear fast in the trap, and three others close at hand in a very angry
mood, a fact which rendered it necessary for him to make tracks
immediately. On arriving at the farm, he gave the alarm, and, seizing an
old dragoon sabre, he was followed to the scene of action by Mr. James
Burke, armed with a gun, and the other man with an axe.

"They proceeded direct to the trap, supplied with a rope, intending to
take the young bear alive. It being a short time after dark, objects
could not be distinctly seen; but, on approaching close to the scene of
action, a crashing among the leaves and dry branches, with sundry other
indications, warned them of the proximity of the old animals. When
within a few steps of the spot, a dark mass was seen on the ground--a
growl was heard--and the confined beast made a furious leap on Jacob,
who was in advance, catching him by the legs. The infuriated animal
inflicted a severe wound on his knee, upon which he drew his sword and
defended himself with great coolness.

"Upon receiving several wounds from the sabre, the cub commenced to
growl and cry in a frightful and peculiar manner, when the old she-bear,
attracted to the spot, rushed on the adventurous Harrison, and attacked
him from behind with great ferocity. Jacob turned upon the new foe, and
wielded his trusty weapon with such energy and success, that in a short
time he deprived her of one of her fore paws by a lucky stroke, and
completely disabled her, eventually, by a desperate cut across the neck,
which divided the tendons and severed the spinal vertebrae. Having
completed his conquest, he had ample time to dispatch the imprisoned cub
at leisure."

"During the time this stirring and dangerous scene, we have related, was
enacting, war was going on in equally bloody and vigorous style at a
short distance. Mr. Burke, having discharged his gun at the other old
bear, only slightly wounded him; the enraged Bruin sprang at him with a
furious howl. He was met with a blow from the butt-end of the
fowling-piece. At the first stroke, the stock flew in pieces, and the
next the heavy barrel was hurled a distance of twenty feet among the
underwood by a side blow from the dexterous paw of the bear. Mr. Burke
then retreated a few feet, and placed his back against a large hemlock,
followed the while closely by the bear, but, being acquainted with the
nature of the animal and his mode of attack, he drew a large hunting
knife from his belt, and, placing his arms by his side, coolly awaited
the onset.

"The maddened brute approached, growling and gnashing his teeth, and,
with a savage spring, encircled the body of the hunter and the tree in
his iron gripe. The next moment, the flashing blade of the _couteau
chasse_ tore his abdomen, and his smoking entrails rolled upon the
ground. At this exciting crisis of the struggle, the other man,
accompanied by the dog, came up in time to witness the triumphal close
of the conflict.

"Two old bears and a cub were the fruit of this dangerous adventure--all
extremely fat--the largest of which, it is computed, would weigh upward
of two hundred and fifty pounds. We have seldom heard of a more
dangerous encounter with bears, and we are happy to say that Mr. Burke
received no injury; Mr. Jacob Harrison, although torn severely, and
having three ribs broken, recovered under the care of an Indian doctor
of the Algonquin tribe."



THE MINERS OF BOIS-MONZIL.

On Tuesday, February 22, 1831, a violent detonation was suddenly heard
in the coal mine of Bois-Monzil, belonging to M. Robinot. The waters
from the old works rushed impetuously along the new galleries. "The
waters, the waters!" such was the cry that resounded from the affrighted
workmen throughout the mine. Only ten miners out of twenty-six were able
to reach the entrance. One of them brought off in his arms, a boy eleven
years old, whom he thus saved from sudden death; another impelled by the
air and the water, to a considerable distance, could scarcely credit his
escape from such imminent danger; a third rushed forward with his sack
full of coals on his shoulders, which, in his fright, he had never
thought of throwing down.

The disastrous news, that sixteen workmen had perished in the mine of M.
Robinot, was soon circulated in the town of St. Etienne. It was regarded
as one of those fatal and deplorable events unfortunately, too common in
that neighborhood, and on the ensuing Thursday it was no longer talked
of. Politics, and the state of parties in Paris, exclusively occupied
the public attention.

The engineers of the mines, however, and some of their pupils, who, on
the first alarm, had hastened to the spot, still remained there,
continuing their indefatigable endeavors to discover the miners who were
missing. Nothing that mechanical science, manual labor, and
perseverance, prompted by humanity, could perform, was left undone.

Thirty hours had already elapsed since the fatal accident, when two
workmen announced the discovery of a jacket and some provisions
belonging to the miners. The engineers immediately essayed to penetrate
into the galleries where these objects had been found, which they
accomplished with much difficulty, by crawling on their hands and feet.
In vain they repeatedly called aloud; no voice, save the echo of their
own, answered from those narrow and gloomy vaults. It then occurred to
them to strike with their pickaxes against the roof of the mine. Still
the same uncheering silence! Listen! yes! the sounds are answered by
similar blows! Every heart beats, every pulse quickens, every breath is
contracted; yet, perhaps, it is but an illusion of their wishes--or,
perhaps, some deceitful echo. They again strike the vaulted roof. There
is no longer any doubt. The same number of strokes is returned. No words
can paint the varied feelings that pervaded every heart. It was (to use
the expression of a person present) a veritable delirium of joy, of
fear, and of hope.

Without losing an instant, the engineers ordered a hole to be bored in
the direction of the galleries, where the miners were presumed to be; at
the same time, they directed, on another point, the formation of an
inclined well, for the purpose of communicating with them.

Two of the engineer's pupils were now dispatched to the mayor of St.
Etienne, to procure a couple of fire pumps, which they conducted back to
the mine, accompanied by two firemen. In the ardor of youthful humanity,
these young men imagined that the deliverance of the miners was but the
affair of a few hours; and, wishing to prepare an "agreeable surprise"
for the friends of the supposed victims, they gave strict injunctions at
the mayoralty to keep the object of their expedition a profound secret.

Notwithstanding the untiring efforts made to place these pumps in the
mine, it was found impossible. Either they were upon a plane too much
inclined to admit of their playing with facility, or the water was too
muddy to be received up the pipes; they were therefore abandoned. In
the meantime, the attempts made to reach the miners by sounding or by
the inclined well, seemed to present insurmountable difficulties. The
distance to them was unknown; the sound of their blows on the roof, far
from offering a certain criterion, or, at least, a probable one, seemed
each time to excite fresh doubts; in short, the rock which it was
necessary to pierce, was equally hard and thick, and the gunpowder
unceasingly used to perforate it, made but a hopeless progress. The
consequent anxiety that reigned in the mine may be easily conceived.
Each of the party, in his turn, offered his suggestions, sometimes of
hope, sometimes of apprehension; and the whole felt oppressed by that
vague suspense, which is, perhaps, more painful to support than the
direst certainty. The strokes of the unfortunate miners continued to
reply to theirs, which added to their agitation, from the fear of not
being able to afford them effectual help. They almost thought that in
such a painful moment their situation was more distressing than those
they sought to save, as the latter were, at any rate, sustained by hope.

While most of the party were thus perplexed by a crowd of disquieting
ideas, produced by the distressing nature of the event itself, and by
their protracted stay in a mine where the few solitary lamps scarcely
rendered "darkness visible," the workmen continued their labors with
redoubled ardor; some of them were hewing to pieces blocks of the rock,
which fell slowly and with much difficulty; others were actively
employed in boring the hole before named, while some of the engineers'
apprentices sought to discover new galleries, either by creeping on "all
fours," or by penetrating through perilous and narrow crevices and
clefts of the rock.

In the midst of their corporeal and mental labors, their attention was
suddenly excited from another painful source. The wives of the hapless
miners had heard that all hope was not extinct. They hastened to the
spot; with heart-rending cries and through tears alternately of despair
and hope, they exclaimed, "Are they _all_ there?" "Where is the father
of my children? Is _he_ among them, or has he been swallowed up by
the waters?"

At the bottom of the mine, close to the water-reservoir, a consultation
was held on the plan to be pursued. Engineers, pupils, workmen, all
agreed that the only prospect of success consisted in exhausting the
water, which was already sensibly diminished, by the working of the
steam-pump; the other pumps produced little or no effect,
notwithstanding the vigorous efforts employed to render them
serviceable. It was then proposed remedying the failure of these pumps
by _une chaine a bras_, viz, by forming a line, and passing buckets from
one to the other; this method was adopted, and several of the pupils
proceeded with all speed to St. Etienne. It was midnight. The _generale_
was beat in two quarters of the town only. The Hotel de Ville was
assigned as the place of rendezvous. On the first alarm, a great number
of persons hurried to the town-hall, imagining a fire had broken out,
but, on ascertaining the real cause, several of them returned home,
apparently unmoved. Yet these same persons, whose supposed apathy had
excited both surprise and indignation, quickly reappeared on the scene,
dressed in the uniform of the National Guard. So powerful is the magic
influence of organized masses, marching under the orders of a chief, and
stimulated by _l'esprit de corps_.

It was truly admirable to see with what address and rapidity the three
or four hundred men, who had hastened to Bois-Monzil, passed and
repassed the buckets, by forming a chain to the bottom of the mine. But
their generous efforts became too fatiguing to last long. Imagine a
subterranean vault, badly lighted, where they were obliged to maintain
themselves in a rapid descent in a stooping posture, to avoid striking
their heads against the roof of the vault, and, most of the time, up to
the middle in the water, which was dripping from every side; some idea
may then be formed of their painful situation. They were relieved from
this laborious duty by the _Garde Nationale_ of St. Etienne, whose zeal
and enthusiasm exceeded all praise. But a more precious reinforcement
was at hand; the workmen from the adjacent mines now arrived in great
numbers. From their skill and experience every thing might be expected;
if they failed there was no further hope.

The _chaine a bras_ was again renewed by companies of the National
Guard, relieved every two hours, who, at respective distances, held the
lights, and under whose orders they acted. It was a cheering spectacle
to behold citizens of all ranks engaged in one of the noblest offices of
humanity, under the direction of poor colliers.

The immense advantages of the organization of the National Guard, were
never more strikingly exemplified than on this occasion. Without them,
there would have been no means or possibility of uniting together an
entire population; of leading the people from a distance of more than
three miles, night and day, so as to insure a regular and continued
service; all would have been trouble and confusion. With them, on the
contrary, every thing was ready, and in motion, at the voice of a single
chief; and the whole was conducted with such precision and regularity
as had never on similar occasions, been witnessed before.

The road from St. Etienne to Bois-Monzil, exhibited a scene of the most
animated kind. In the midst of the motley and moving multitude, the
National Guards were seen hurrying to and fro; chasseurs, grenadiers,
cavalry and artillery-men, all clothed in their rich new costume, as on
a field day. Some of the crowd were singing _a la Parisienne_, others
were lamenting, praying, hoping, despairing, and, by "fits and starts,"
abandoning themselves to those opposite extravagances of sentiment so
peculiarly characteristic of a French population. When night drew her
sable curtains around, the picturesque of the scene was still more
heightened. Fresh bands of miners, conducted by their respective chiefs,
coming in from every side; their sooty visages lighted up by glaring
torches; National Guards arriving from different parts of the country,
to join their comrades of St. Etienne; farmers and peasants, on
horseback and afoot, hastening to offer their humane aid; sentinels
posted--muskets piled--watch-fires blazing, and, in short, the _tout
ensemble_ rendered the approaches of Bois-Monzil like a bivouac on the
eve of an expected battle; happily, however, the object of these brave
men was to preserve life and not to destroy it.

On Saturday, the _chaine a bras_ was discontinued, as the engineers had
brought the pumps effectually to work. Suddenly a cry of joy was echoed
from mouth to mouth, "They are saved! they are saved! six of them are
freed from their subterraneous prison!" shouted a person at the entrance
of the mine. The rumor was instantly repeated along the crowd, and a
horseman set off at full speed for St. Etienne, with the gratifying
news; another followed, and confirmed the report of his predecessor. The
whole town was in motion, and all classes seemed to partake of the
general joy, with a feeling as if each had been individually interested.
In the exuberance of their delight they were already deliberating on the
subject of a _fete_, to celebrate the happy event, when a third horsemen
arrived. The multitude thronged round him, expecting a more ample
confirmation of the welcome tidings. But their joy was soon turned to
sorrow, when they were informed that nothing had yet been discovered,
save the dead bodies of two unfortunate men, who, together had left
eleven children to lament their untimely fate.

On Sunday, the workmen continued their labor with equal zeal and
uncertainty as before. A sort of inquietude and hopelessness, however,
occasionally pervaded their minds, which may be easily accounted for,
from the hitherto fruitless result of their fatiguing researches.
Discussions now took place on what was to be done; differences of
opinion arose on the various plans proposed, and, in the meantime, the
sounds of the hapless victims from the recesses of the rocky cavern
continued to be distinctly audible. Every moment the embarrassment and
difficulties of the workmen increased. The flinty rock seemed to grow
more impenetrable; their tools either broke, or became so fixed in the
stone, that it was frequently impossible to regain them. The water
filtered from all parts, through the narrow gallery they were
perforating, and they even began to apprehend another irruption.

Such was the state of things on Monday morning, when, at four o'clock,
an astounding noise was heard, which re-echoed throughout the Whole
extent of the mine. A general panic seized on every one; it was thought
that the waters had forced a new issue. A rapid and confused flight took
place; but, luckily, their fears were soon allayed on perceiving that it
was only an immense mass of rock, detached from the mine, which had
fallen into a draining-well. This false alarm, however, operated in a
discouraging manner, on the minds of the workmen; and it required some
management to bring them back to their respective stations, and to
revive that ardor and constancy, which they had hitherto so nobly
displayed.

They had scarcely renewed their endeavors to bore through the rock, when
suddenly one of them felt the instrument drawn from his hands, by the
poor imprisoned miners. It was, indeed, to them, the instrument of
deliverance from their cruel situation. Singular to relate, their first
request was neither for food nor drink, but for _light_, as if they were
more eager to make use of their eyes, than to satisfy the pressing wants
of appetite! It was now ascertained that eight of the sufferers still
survived; and this time an authentic account of the happy discovery was
dispatched to St. Etienne, where it excited the most enthusiastic
demonstrations of sympathy and gladness. But there is no pleasure
unmixed with alloy; no general happiness unaccompanied by particular
exceptions. Among the workmen, was the father of one of the men who had
disappeared in the mine. His paternal feelings seemed to have endowed
him with superhuman strength. Night and day he never quitted his work
but for a few minutes to return to it with redoubled ardor; one sole,
absorbing thought occupied his whole soul; the idea that his son, his
_only_ son, was with those who were heard from within. In vain he was
solicited to retire; in vain they strove to force him from labors too
fatiguing for his age. "My son is among them," said he, "I hear him;
nothing shall prevent my hastening his release;" and, from time to time,
he called on his son, in accents that tore the hearts of the bystanders.
It was from his hand that the instrument had been drawn. His first
question was "my child?" Like Apelles, let me throw a vail over a
father's grief. His Antoine was no more, he had been drowned.

For four days several medical men were constantly on the spot, to
contribute all the succors that humanity, skill, and science could
afford. It was they who introduced through the hole, broth and soup, by
means of long, tin tubes, which had been carefully prepared beforehand.
The poor captives distributed it with the most scrupulous attention,
first to the oldest and weakest of their companions; for,
notwithstanding their dreadful situation, the spirit of concord and
charity had never ceased for a single moment to preside among them. The
man who was appointed by the others to communicate with, and answer the
questions of their deliverers, displayed, in all his replies, a gayety
quite in keeping with the French character. On being asked what day he
thought it was, and on being informed that it was Monday, instead of
Sunday, as he had supposed, "Ah!" said he, "I ought to have known that,
as we yesterday indulged ourselves freely in drinking--water." Strange
that a man should have the heart to joke, who had been thus "cabin'd,
cribb'd, confin'd," during five days, destitute of food, deprived of
air, agitated by suspense, and in jeopardy of perishing by the most
horrible of all deaths!

There still remained full sixteen feet of solid rock between the two
anxious parties; but the workmen's labors were now, if possible,
redoubled by the certainty of complete success. At intervals, light
nourishment in regulated quantities, continued to be passed to the
miners; this, however they soon rejected, expressing but one desire,
that their friends would make haste. Their strength began to fail them;
their respiration became more and more difficult; their utterance grew
feebler and fainter; and toward six o'clock in the evening, the last
words that could be distinguished, were--"Brothers make haste!"

The general anxiety was now wound up to the highest pitch; it was,
perhaps, the most trying crisis yet experienced since the commencement
of their benevolent labors; at length the moment of deliverance was, all
at once, announced, and at ten o'clock it was accomplished. One by one,
they appeared, like specters, gliding along the gallery which had just
been completed; their weak and agitated forms supported by the
engineers, on whom they cast their feeble eyes, filled with
astonishment, yet beaming with gratitude. Accompanied by the doctors,
they all with one single exception, ascended to the entrance of the
mine, without aid; such was their eagerness to inhale the pure air of
liberty. From the mouth of the mine to the temporary residence allotted
them, the whole way was illuminated. The engineers, pupils, and the
workmen, with the National Guard under arms, were drawn up in two lines
to form a passage; and thus, in the midst of a religious silence, did
these poor fellows traverse an attentive and sympathizing crowd, who, as
they passed along, inclined their heads, as a sort of respect and honor
to their sufferings.

Such are the affecting particulars of an event, during the whole of
which, every kind of business was suspended at St. Etienne; an event
which exhibited the entire population of a large town, forming, as it
were, but one heart, entertaining but one thought, imbued with one
feeling, for the god-like purpose of saving the lives of eight poor,
obscure individuals. Christians, men of all countries, whenever and
wherever suffering humanity claims your aid--"Go ye and do likewise!"

[Illustration: SHIP TOWED BY BULLOCKS.]



SHIP TOWED TO LAND BY BULLOCKS.

A few years since the ship Ariadne, freighted principally with live
cattle, started on a voyage from Quebec, bound to Halifax. A gale came
on, which continued to increase in fury, until it became a perfect
hurricane. The ship was dismasted, and when the mainmast fell, three
poor fellows were crushed to death. A little before sunset, on the
second day of the gale, the appalling cry of "Breakers ahead!" was
raised. All eyes were instinctively turned in one direction; and, about
a mile off, the sea was as a boiling caldron. Toward the breakers the
hull was now drifting, unmanageable, every moment threatened with
destruction. For about half an hour, there was intense anxiety, and an
agony of suspense on board. At length she entered the breakers. A large
wave raised her, and she struck heavily on the rocks as the waves
receded; it was evident, from constant striking upon the bottom, that
the vessel must soon go to pieces; and the sea made a clean break over
her, about half of the length from the stern. The officers and crew were
huddled together upon the deck forward, intent upon devising means of
escape; at last the captain thought of a plan, which, though novel,
proved successful. He fastened ropes to the horns of several bullocks,
and drove them into the sea, their strong, instinctive love of life
impelled them forward, and several of them reached the shore. The ropes
were fastened by some men, who had assembled for the relief of those on
the vessel, and after much exertion and danger all on board were rescued
from their perilous situation, and landed in safety.



DESTRUCTION OF A SHIP BY A WHALE.

The following thrilling account of the destruction of the whale ship Ann
Alexander, Captain John S. Deblois, of New Bedford, by a large sperm
whale, is from the lips of the captain himself. A similar circumstance
has never been known to occur but once in the whole history of
whale-fishing, and that was the destruction of the ship Essex, some
twenty or twenty-five years ago, and which many of our readers fully
remember. We proceed to the narrative as furnished by Captain Deblois,
and which is fully authenticated by nine of the crew, in a protest under
the seal of the United States Consul, Alexander Ruden, Jr., at Paita.

The ship Ann Alexander, Captain J.S. Deblois, sailed from New Bedford,
Mass., June 1st, 1850, for a cruise in the South Pacific for sperm
whale. Having taken about five hundred barrels of oil in the Atlantic,
the ship proceeded on her voyage to the Pacific. Nothing of unusual
interest occurred until when passing Cape Horn, one of the men, named
Jackson Walker, of Newport, N.H., was lost overboard in a storm.
Reaching the Pacific, she came up the coast and stopped at Valdivia, on
the coast of Chili, for fresh provisions, and the 31st of May last, she
called at Paita for the purpose of shipping a man. The vessel proceeded
on her return voyage to the South Pacific.

On the 20th of August last she reached what is well known to all
whalers, as the "Off-shore ground," in latitude five degrees fifty
minutes south, longitude one hundred and twenty degrees west. In the
morning of that day, at about nine o'clock, whales were discovered in
the neighborhood, and about noon, the same day, they succeeded in making
fast to one. Two boats had gone after the whales--the larboard and the
starboard, the former commanded by the first mate, the latter by
Captain Deblois. The whale which they had struck, was harpooned by the
larboard boat. After running some time, the whale turned upon the boat,
and rushing at it with tremendous violence lifted open its enormous
jaws, and taking the boat in, actually crushed it into fragments as
small as a common chair! Captain Deblois immediately struck for the
scene of the disaster with the starboard boat, and succeeded, against
all expectation, in rescuing the whole of the crew of the boat--nine
in number!

There were now eighteen men in the starboard boat, consisting of the
captain, the first mate, and the crews of both boats. The frightful
disaster had been witnessed from the ship, and the waste boat was called
into readiness, and sent to their relief. The distance from the ship was
about six miles. As soon as the waste boat arrived, the crews were
divided, and it was determined to pursue the same whale, and make
another attack upon him. Accordingly they separated, and proceeded at
some distance from each other, as is usual on such occasions, after the
whale. In a short time, they came up to him, and prepared to give him
battle. The waste boat, commanded by the first mate, was in advance. As
soon as the whale perceived the demonstration being made upon him, he
turned his course, suddenly, and making a tremendous dash at this boat,
seized it with his wide-spread jaws, and crushed it to atoms, allowing
the men barely time to escape his vengeance, by throwing themselves into
the ocean.

Captain Deblois, again seeing the perilous condition of his men, at the
risk of meeting the same fate, directed his boat to hasten to their
rescue, and in a short time succeeded in saving them all from a death
little less horrible than that from which they had twice as narrowly
escaped. He then ordered the boat to put for the ship as speedily as
possible; and no sooner had the order been given, than they discovered
the monster of the deep making toward them with his jaws widely
extended. Fortunately, the monster came up and passed them at a short
distance. The boat then made her way to the ship and they all got on
board in safety.

After reaching the ship a boat was dispatched for the oars of the
demolished boats, and it was determined to pursue the whale with the
ship. As soon as the boat returned with the oars, sail was set, and the
ship proceeded after the whale. In a short time she overtook him, and a
lance was thrown into his head. The ship passed on by him, and
immediately after they discovered that the whale was making for the
ship. As he came up near her, they hauled on the wind, and suffered the
monster to pass her. After he had fairly passed, they kept off to
overtake and attack him again. When the ship had reached within about
fifty rods of him, they discovered that the whale had settled down deep
below the surface of the water, and, as it was near sundown, they
concluded to give up the pursuit.

Captain Deblois was at this time standing in the night-heads on the
larboard bow, with lance in hand, ready to strike the monster a deadly
blow should he appear, the ship moving about five knots, when working on
the side of the ship, he discovered the whale rushing toward her at the
rate of fifteen knots! In an instant, the monster struck the ship with
tremendous violence, shaking her from stem to stern! She quivered under
the violence of the shock, as if she had struck upon a rock! Captain
Deblois immediately descended into the forecastle, and there, to his
horror, discovered that the monster had struck the ship two feet from
the keel, abreast the foremast, knocking a great hole entirely through
her bottom. Springing to the deck, he ordered the mate to cut away the
anchors and get the cables overboard, to keep the ship from sinking, as
she had a large quantity of pig iron on board. In doing this, the mate
succeeded in getting only one anchor and one cable clear, the other
having been fastened around the foremast. The ship was then sinking
rapidly. The captain went to the cabin, where he found three feet of
water; he, however, succeeded in procuring a chronometer, sextant,
and chart.

Reaching the decks, he ordered the boats to be cleared away, and get
water and provisions, as the ship was keeling over. He again descended
to the cabin, but the water was rushing in so rapidly that he could
procure nothing. He then came upon deck, ordered all hands into the
boats, and was the last to leave the ship, which he did by throwing
himself into the sea, and swimming to the nearest boat! The ship was on
her beam end, top-gallant yards under the water. They then pushed off
some distance from the ship, expecting her to sink in a very short time.
Upon an examination of the stores they had been able to save, he
discovered that they had only twelve quarts of water, and not a mouthful
of provisions of any kind! The boats contained eleven men each; were
leaky, and night coming on, they were obliged to bail them all night to
keep them from sinking!

Next day, at daylight, they returned to the ship, no one daring to
venture on board but the captain, their intention being to cut away the
masts, and fearful that the moment the masts were cut away that the ship
would go down. With a single hatchet, the captain went on board, cut
away the mast, when the ship righted. The boats then came up, and the
men, by the sole aid of spades, cut away the chain cable from around the
foremast, which got the ship nearly on her keel. The men then tied ropes
around their bodies, got into the sea and cut a hole through the decks
to get out provisions. They could procure nothing but about five gallons
of vinegar and twenty pounds of wet bread. The ship threatened to sink,
and they deemed it prudent to remain by her no longer, so they set sail
in their boats and left her.

On the 22d of August, at about five o'clock P.M., they had the
indescribable joy of seeing a ship in the distance. They made signal and
were soon answered, and in a short time they were reached by the ship
Nantucket, of Nantucket, Mass., Captain Gibbs, who took them all on
board, clothed and fed them, and extended to them in every way the
greatest possible hospitality.

On the succeeding day Captain Gibbs went to the wreck of the ill-fated
Ann Alexander, for the purpose of trying to procure something; but, as
the sea was rough, and the attempt considered dangerous, he abandoned
the project. The Nantucket then set sail for Paita, where she arrived on
the 15th of September, and where she landed Captain Deblois and his men.
Captain Deblois was kindly received and hospitably entertained at
Paita by Captain Bathurst, an English gentleman residing there, and
subsequently took passage on board the schooner Providence, Captain
Starbuck, for Panama.

[Illustration: BURNING OF THE KENT--EAST INDIAMAN]



BURNING OF THE KENT.

The annexed engraving represents the burning of the Kent, East Indiaman,
in the Bay of Biscay. She had on board in all six hundred and forty-one
persons at the time of the accident. The fire broke out in the hold
during a storm. An officer on duty, finding that a spirit cask had
broken loose, was taking measures to secure it, when a lurch of the ship
caused him to drop his lantern, and, in his eagerness to save it, he let
go the cask, which suddenly stove in, the spirits communicated with the
flame, and the whole place was instantly in a blaze. Hopes of subduing
the fire at first were strong, but soon heavy volumes of smoke and a
pitchy smell told that it had reached the cable-room.

In these awful circumstances, the captain ordered the lower decks to be
scuttled, to admit water; this was done; several poor seamen being
suffocated by the smoke in executing the order; but now a new danger
threatened, the sea rushed in so furiously, that the ship was becoming
water-logged, and all feared her going down. Between six and seven
hundred human beings, were by this time crowded on the deck. Many on
their knees earnestly implored the mercy of an all-powerful God! while
some old stout-hearted sailors quietly seated themselves directly over
the powder magazine,--expecting an explosion every moment, and thinking
thus to put a speedier end to their torture.

In this time of despair, it occurred to the fourth mate to send a man to
the foremast, hoping, but scarce daring to think it probable, that some
friendly sail might be in sight. The man at the foretop looked around
him; it was a moment of intense anxiety; then waving his hat, he cried
out, "A sail, on the lee-bow!"

Those on deck received the news with heart-felt gratitude, and answered
with three cheers. Signals of distress were instantly hoisted, and
endeavors used to make toward the stranger, while the minute guns were
fired continuously. She proved to be the brig Cambria, Captain Cook,
master, bound to Vera Cruz, having twenty Cornish miners, and some
agents of the Mining Company on board. For about a quarter of an hour,
the crew of the Kent doubted whether the brig perceived their signals:
but after a period of dreadful suspense, they saw the British colors
hoisted, and the brig making toward them.

On this, the crew of the Kent got their boats in readiness; the first
was filled with women, passengers, and officers' wives, and was lowered
into a sea so tempestuous as to leave small hope of their reaching the
brig; they did, however, after being nearly swamped through some
entanglement of the ropes, getting clear of the Kent, and were safely
taken on board the Cambria, which prudently lay at some distance off.

After the first trip, it was found impossible for the boats to come
close alongside of the Kent, and the poor women and children suffered
dreadfully, in being lowered over the stern into them by means of ropes.
Amid this gloomy scene, many beautiful examples occurred of filial and
parental affection, and of disinterested friendship; and many sorrowful
instances of individual loss and suffering. At length, when all had been
removed from the burning vessel, but a few, who were so overcome by fear
as to refuse to make the attempt to reach the brig, the captain quitted
his ill-fated ship.

The flames which had spread along her upper deck, now mounted rapidly to
the mast and rigging, forming one general conflagration, and lighting
up the heavens to an immense distance around. One by one her stately
masts fell over her sides. By half-past one in the morning the fire
reached the powder magazine; the looked-for explosion took place, and
the burning fragments of the vessel were blown high into the air, like
so many rockets.

The Cambria, with her crowd of sufferers, made all speed to the nearest
port, and reached Portsmouth in safety, shortly after midnight, on the
3d of March, 1825, the accident having taken place on the 28th of
February. Wonderful to tell, fourteen of the poor creatures, left on the
Kent, were rescued by another ship, the Caroline, on her passage from
Alexandria to Liverpool.


THE END