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As soon as I was of age, my father gave me a pony and a little money. I bought some trinkets and went among the Coosas on a trading expedition. In this I suc ceeded so well that I was soon able to en large my business. Money came in upon me very fast, for I had no love for the Coosas, and did not hesitate to cheat them on all occasions, because they were them selves such cheats and liars. They had no mercy on a white man, and would take every advantage of him possible. You may judge of what I say when I mention a few facts. I once called upon a very old Indian woman to learn her age. She was quite free-spoken, and seemed ready to tell anything I asked her about. As for her age, she said that she had seen so many “moons” she had long stopped counting them, for the want of numbers. This did not surprise me, because I knew that most Creeks could not count beyond Parli-parlin (ten tens.) But when I ask ed her to tell me something that she re collected in early life—some war, some work, something that happened—she told me with solemn face, and tried to make me believe that she recollected the time when her people first dug out the Chatta hoochee river.* About five or six years ago a white man (who lives near that little town I hear people begin to talk about, by the name of Columbus,) went over the river to attend a big gathering at a ball-plav. Ho rode a horse that ho kept purposely very poor-looking, but which was never theless one' of the swiftest nags of its size. His object was to draw some rich red-skin into a race on a large bet, and by this means to win back some of the money that he had lost in former bets with them. He picked his man, persuaded him into a race, and bantered him to a very high bet. They went to tho ground, stationed the judges and started. Barnet, for that was the white man’s name, was fond of bin as well as of money, and was so con fident of tho speed of his horso that he allowed tho Indian some distance the start, in order to enjoy seeing him dig in to his pony’s ribs, and try to keep ahead. At the close of tho race he lot out his horse to full speed and came out far in advance. “Now,” says ho, turning with a laugh to his competitor, “pay mo your bet.” “Umph !” says tho other, “will pay you when judge say so.” “What’g the use of tho judge saying This incident and the one next succeeding, are still If a^o( t Columbus, Ga., as part of tho early history of neighborhood. BURKE’S WEEKLY. anything ?” Barnet asked. « Didn’t I win the race ?” “ Will pay when judge say so,” the oth er repeated. “ But did I not give you the start, and then come out ahead?” Barnet asked again. The Indian still said, “Will pay when judge say so.” The matter was then referred to the judges. They went off to themselves and soon returned, saying—“ Injin heat." Barnet was amazed at their impudence, and asked: “ Did I not him the start ?” “ Yes.” “And did I not come out ahead?” “ Yes.” “How then can you say that ho beat?” “Injin beat most," they answered. “ Beat most! What do you mean ?” “ White man beat at the two ends ; In jin beat in the middle.” And with this decision they put the stakes into the Indian’s hands. Barnet returned home a wiser man than he came, lie never, after that, trusted a Coosa. And I had a touch of that experience once myself. While I was keeping store near where Columbus is growing up, a young hunter who had often traded with me, and who had been as fair as any Coosa is known to be, came in, offering to purchase a few articles, and to pay for them with a very fat deer which he said he had just killed, and which ho offered very low, on condition that I should send for it. I had no misgiving in the case, for I knew the young man, and knew the very spot where he reported the deer to be hanging, (on a sapling, near a large poplar, the other side of a pond, not a quarter of a mile off,) and moreover I had noticed the report of a rifle in that direc tion only a few minutes before the fellow came in. lie got what he asked for and went off. I did not see him again for months, nor did I ever see the deer. A long time afterwards he came to my store to trade, looking as innocent as if he had never done me a wrong. I immediately ordered him off) and forbade his coining to me any more. “ What for?” said he, looking mightily taken by surprise. I answered: “ For lying about that deer when you were last here. There was not a word of truth in what you said.” “White man is mistaken. Did he look as Injin told him ?” “ I did.” “And did not find any pond, as I said there was?” he asked. “Pond? Os course I did. 1 knew of that pond before,” I answered. “Ah, well, that is one true I told. And whit® man did not find the poplar ?" “ Certainly I found it. I knew of that also before.” “ -Ah, well, that is two true. And white man did not find the deer ?” “No, I did not; there was no deer there, and had not been.” “Ah, well, that is one lie. Two true to one lie! But,” said he, turning to me with a laugh, « don’t you think that two true to one lie is pretty good for Injin?” I am bound, however, to say of the Coosas that they had some good in them, as well as much evil. In the first place, the} T are a very modest people—much more so than the whites—for in all my dealings with them for years, I seldom saw or heard an indecent thing in men or women, old or young. The men were brave, and tho women generally correct in their behavior, j* The mothers, too, were real mothers ; and it almost won my heart to them, Coosas though they were, to see, as I often had seen, mothers pale with hunger, staggering as they carried their chubby children, that looked as if they had never known what hunger was.f Both men and women, too, were very hospitable. If ever you went to the door of their wigwams, you were asked to come in; and if ever you went in, you were bound to partake of their sofkee.* There were seldom any quarrels, and such as arose were almost always made up at their green-corn dances, at which time it was customary for all, and especially for those who had quarreled, to meet togeth er and shake hands in their large council room, where it was too dark to look into each other's eyes. f After I had traded long enough among these Indians to gather a pretty little property, I lost it all in one day by stand ing security for a fellow trader. I would have commenced business again, and gone on the same way as before, but 1 had no thing to start with, and, more than this, I had so offended some of the chiefs that it was not safe for me to remain in the nation. I wandered about the country for some time, and finally, about three years ago, enlisted in the I nited States army, hoping to be sent out west. In stead of this, however, I have been on dif ferent posts, first in Charleston, then in Savannah, and now here. My time v\ill be out next month, and then I shall be a free man, but somehow I feel very indif ferent to it, as if my freedom were hardly worth the having. That’s my story, with all the useful things I could think of worth the tolling. f The passages in this story marked thus, are histori cal, or rather traditional, being parts of the unwritten history of the places and parties concerned. * Sos ke» —hominy made »f peuuded •era. 75