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the dying child.
I.
It.m at this dreary hour, midnight about us still
thickening,
Dmily the taper gleams up, burning to waste in
the socket,
[l( j yet more dimly and drearily, flickering
feebly and fluttering,
Even as a bird that strives faintly against
the great bars that coniine it,
the life in the heart of that dear one whom we
have cherished so fondly.
11.
Father, we pray thee rekindle that precious
young light at thy fountains,
•y not from the lamp of the infant, the oil
that thy hand has once given it,
Oh ! doom us not now to the darkness, fol
lowing fast on thy awiul denial,
Quench not the sweet flame that has been to
us, as the first blush of the sunlight,
When, in the hope of new raptures, we saw it
first sleeping beside us.
111.
Precious indeed, was love’s blossom, on the
young tree of hope that we planted,
Soft, like the smile of the rainbow, spanning the
arch of our union ;
Oh! how we lingered to watch it, lingering for
aye o’er the cradle,
jjoint’ with sorrowing reluctance, and still
with new rapture returning,
Dn anting of growth in the bud, that was yet to
dame proudly in beauty.
IV.
\!a<! in that moment of blessing, did we not
dream of this danger ;
Ikm should death threaten with ruin, the rap
ture so pure and so tender ?
Sweet was the joy of forgetting, thus ever
watching this dear one,
That life with its light had its shadow, and
that clouds could hang over the dwel
ling,
Where Joy’s torch but lately was lighted, and
the wreath was still fresh on the altar.
V.
Thou, in a moment hast banished, the confi
dence crowning our blessing ;
Now do we feel the drear weakness that baf
fles love’s sweeter condition ;
Now do wc, lately triumphant, tremble with
wild apprehension,—
Now do we bend in thy worship, lately all dan
ger forgetting—
Forgive us, O ! absolute father, that we thought
not of thee in our rapture.
VI.
Not in our pride of heart, father—not in vain
hope or vain glory,
But in our weakness and sorrow, do we appeal
for thy mercy ;
To the sad love that now crouches, trembling
and dumb o’er the cradle,
Humbled in heart, and all fearful, yield the dear
gift that we pray for,
Send the warm blood and the succour, to the
frail fainting infant before thee.
VII.
Oil! us, the humbled and hopeless, unless
through thy bounty and blessing,—
Spare us the treasure whose sweetness made
our low cottage an Eden ;
Oh! to the now wretched mother, she that has
borne the keen labour,
Yield the dear gift that came with it, and make
us anew thy dependant,
Thankful forever for mercy, lar beyond our
wretched deservings.
f in’ ?tnri] iTrllfr.
KtIDWOOD, THE RGULATOR.
BYC. H. WILEY. ESU, OF NORTH CAROLINA,
AUTHOR OF “ ALAMANCE.”
CHAPTER VI.
1 he W izard of the Pilot was as good
as his word; he fulfilled his last ap
pointment at the Haw Fields, and
prta lied to an audience whose prema
ture excitement it was now his object
to allay.
His friend Carey he found in a most
unhappy frame of mind; and in vain
did he labour to enlist this ingenuous
J'oung man in the cause of his country.
The object of the youth’s affections
had returned to the country ; but she
daily grew colder and colder towards
her lover, though her manners became
•ueeker, and her conduct more consid
erately kind. It was plain, to all but
her lover, that she had lost all interest
i* l him, and thus was she able to be
more self-possessed and more respeet
ll|h After a while, her spirits began
m droop; with the tender blossoms
‘pring she faded in midsummer; and
Utore the trees had cast their foliage,
‘ary \\ Rite, now pale, indeed, as a
was laid in her last resting place
m the graveyard at the Haw Fields
hurch. Her old guardian survived
,L ' r hut a little while ; and when people
’l 1 “he sadly of the cause of their deaths,
‘JC ‘aid hard things of Fanning, and of
hite.they pitied and they praised the
1 Mary. Carey, nearly wild,
‘("•he of her as a saint and a martyr ;
her grave was weekly strewn with
‘ers. by virtuous and innocent mald-
* he wild appeals of Ambrose Carey
ilK | others now worked the people into
1 } '^nzy; tumultuous meetings were
‘jl - , ’ an d ill advised measures adopted,
the appeals, the entreaties
Redwood, were in vain; and with
1 Idrebodings he witnessed the short
- ‘'o and proceedings of his compatriots.
1:1 ta ct, the Regulation was a popular
anient; it was born in the hearts
“e people, and its proceedings, there-
I • not characterized by that foresight
11 > which mark those revolu*
, ;lr y movements conducted by poli
ms - Outbreaks were common ; and
they did at Orange may be guess
,M:.l>ln the following copy of the record
, Court held in Hillsborough, Sep
-1770:
Several persons, styling themselves
‘ - ‘lators, assembled together in the
II “ j yard, under the conduct of Herman
‘ James Hunter, Rednap How
’ illiam Butler, Samuel Uvvinny,
many others, insulted some of the
* ! ‘ tlblUen of the bar, and in a riotous
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manner went into-the court-house and
forcibly carried out some of the attor
neys, and in a cruel manner beat them.
* * * Therefore, the Judge, find
ing it impossible to proceed with hon
our to himself and justice to his coun
try, adjourned the Court till to-morrow
at ten o’clock, and took advantage of
the night and made his escape, and the
Court adjourned to meet in course.”
The author, in his time, has seen
several persons who recollected the pro
ceedings of those times, and from their
testimony he is warranted in saying
that the summary justice then inflicted
by the Regulators met with vast fa
vour among the people. Fanning was
dragged out of the court house by
the heels, amid the gibes and jeers of
an immense multitude; was severely
whipped in presence'of the crowd, kept
in close confinement during the remain
der of the day, and then contemptu
ously turned into the streets, with many
curses on his head.
CHAPTER VII.
With the subsiding of the tumultu
ous scenes related in the last chapter, a
deep and dangerous melancholy settled
on the mind of Ainbros.e Carey, and
lie resolved to try the effect of travel.
He was several days on the road, going
westward, and yet hardly knowing his
direction; but arrived in the thriving
settlements of the Moravians,in the up
country, he inquired for Redwood, and
determined to pay him a visit. The-
Regulator lived still farther westward;
and as his friend, somewhat weary, in
the afternoon of an October day, was
leisurely riding forward, a sudden turn
in the road revealed an object that fill
ed him with amazement and awe. He
had often heard of the Pilot of Ararat
mountain, but he was not prepared for
a sight so wonderful, so beautiful, so
unlike all the scenes of nature he had
ever beheld, and yet so far beyond the
grandest achievements of art. From
the midst of a wide plain this solitary
pile lifted its castled head to the region
of the clouds, aud it was so exactly
rounded, and sloped so gracefully from
the summit, as to excite the belief of
its having been shaped by the hands
of man. The top was crowned with a
square rock of immense size, and look
ing exactly like a castle ; and Ambrose
Carey almost believed himself in the
neighbourhood of some real and mighty
wizard. Notwithstanding, however,
the perfect symmetry and lonely posi
tion of the Pilot, a near approach satis
fied the young traveller that not even
Titon hands could have moved the pile
before him ; and the longer he gazed,
the more was he impressed with a sense
of the might of that Deity who planted
here this
“ Dread ambassador from earth to Huavon.” |
Tie was taken with a strong desire to
ascend it; and following a well-trodden
path, he rode up the sides until the
aclivity became so abrupt that his horse
could proceed no farther. He there
fore hitched his animal to a tree, and
concluded that he could go wherever
man had gone, still followed the path
until he reached the base of the rock.
II ere his courage nearly failed him, and
it almost made him giddy to gaze on
the scene above. The rock was several
hundred feet high, in appearance ; it
was nearly’ bare, and was solid, smooth,
and precipitous.
When the young traveller had rested
himself a little, and become composed,
he observed that the path turned to his
left immediately at the foot of the
rock ; and again bracing himself for a
further effort at climbing, he came to a
sort of channel in the side of the rock,
the side sloping gently fur some dis
tance, and affording rough notches for
the feet and hands of those daring
enough to ascend. Ambrose Carey did
ascend ; and ere long he found a ladder
lying against the side of the rock and
firmly fastened to it. Up this he went
until he came to another, hung perpen
dicular from a projection above; and
with eyes shut clambered on till he
found himself on the projection, and
safe from danger. His progress now
was easy- until he at length reached the
summit, and found himself on a broad
platform, several acres in extent.
lie was, however, not in a condition
to enjoy the scenes that were spread
before him, illimitable, varied, and be
yond description grand and beautiful ;
but exhausted and almost desperate,
threw himself upon the cool rock, and
was soon fast asleep. He was at last
aroused from his slumbers, and as his
eyes opened they encountered those of
Council Redwood.
“ I welcome you to my castle,” said
the latter; “no, it is profanity to say
my castle , for this is God’s altar, and
here I otfer up my sacrifices.”
“Where am I, and what does all this
mean !” inquired Carey, looking wildly
about him. “ Are you truly a wizard,
and am 1 bewitched ?”
“ You are not yet awake, Ambrose,”
said Redwood, kindly ; “give me your
hand and follow me. There,” he con
tinued, after they had advanced a few
paces, “there is a spring of the purest
and coolest water: bathe your head
and temples, and your enchantment
will be dissolved.” Ambrose did as
he was requested ; but his perplexity
was increased by the appearance ot the
fountain, so tiny, so tastefully built up
with pebbles of white, red, and varie
gated quartz, which the imagination of
Carey converted into fairy gems of the
most exquisite finish and colour. Wild
dowers, too, had been made to grow
out of the rock whence gushed the lim
pid stream ; and a willow, a strange
sight there indeed, dipped its branches
in the fountain.
“ I tell you,” said Carey, “I am wide
awake. 1 remember that I clambered
up the sides of this huge mound, and i
remember that I fell asleep ; but is this
wonderful hill a reality, and has it al
ways stood here ?”
“ Undoubtedly this is the real Pilot
Mountain,” answered Redwood ; “and
thousands of people live near it, and
never saw it, or care to see it.”
“ 1 did not know this gloomy world
contained anything so strange and
beautiful,” replied Carey ; “and I sup
pose my exertions and the wonders I
had seen filled my fancy with new and
enchanting images. 1 had a most won
pertul dream—a dream so vivid that it
still seems like a reality, and perplexes
me with unpleasant suspicions. My
lost Mary appeared to me, and soothed
me with songs as soft as the whispers
of an angel; fairy forms ministered
around me, scattering flowers about
me, while the spirit of my Mary fas
tened an amulet about my neck as
she sang. And by Heavens! look
there! see!” cried the young man,
as he drew a golden locket from his
bosom, and held it up by the ribbon
that was round his neck.
“ For fear of harm, I’ll unravel this
mystery,” said Redwood, as Carey
gazed wildly at the locket: “my chil
dren played about you while you slum
bered profoundly and long, and they
fastened that charm about your neck.
In it is a paper; and that you may
know I tell the truth, I’ll inform you
what is on it. Her inscription is, ‘Give
thy heart and thy strength to thy
country and Liberty, and happiness shall
be thy reward !’ ”
“ But here is a lock of hair,” said
Carey ; “it is the very hair of Mary,
and exactly like a lock I have in my
pocket. Are not those from the same
head ?”
“ Certainly not,” replied Redwood,
a little confused ; “this hair is from the
head ot the living. But you are now
yourself again, I hope, and so look
round ! Is not God’s earth beautiful ?”
The trees were clad in the varied
livery ot autumn ; and as the slanting
rays of the descending sun fell upon
them, the wide expanse glittered like a
pavement of gold and silver and pre
cious gems. Eastward the friends
gazed first, the horizon bounding their
view, as they supposed, near the Atlan
tic, distant more than two hundred
miles; then Redwood pointed out
peaks to the south, that were said to be
in Georgia, and blue summits to the
north which he supposed to be in Mary
land. Finally they turned westward,
the Blue Ridge, like a huge wall, with
its thousand turrets and towers, bound
ing the view in this direction ; and they
gazed for some time in silence, each
lost in his own thoughts.
“And now, Ambrose,” said Redwood
at length, “are you not ready, on this
mighty Altar, to take the vows of Lib
erty ? Is not this indeed a goodly land?
Is not the earth too beautiful to be
ruled forever by tyrants ? Shall des
potism be allowed to bring its infernal
brood to this glorious country ? to turn
God’s garden to a hell, this majestic
palace, with its floors of emerald and
roof of stars and azure, to a loathsome
prienn
“ It is already a loathesome prison
to me,” returned Carey : “ the dearest
hopes of my life are gone, and all the
fair scenes of earth are to me but vain
mockeries. What care I for Liberty,
or Despotism either ? The canker is
at my heart, and while Tyranny cannot
worst me, freedom can awaken no hap
py emotions.”
“ These are the words of a poltroon
—of a sick boy,” said Redwood.
“ You lie !” cried Carey, in a rage :
“you lie, and I dare you to make your
words good ! Sir, you need not smile;
you must atone for this offence, and
now is as good a time as any. Here
are two pistols—take your choice.”
“ Not now r , not now,” said Redwood.
“ But it must be and shall be now,”
continued Carey ; “ I will not descend
from this mountain until I wipe off’the
stain you have put upon me.”
“ Mr. Carey,” said Redwood, calmly,
“ I am delighted ; I struck fire from
the flint at the first blow. You said
that despotism could not hurt you, lib
erty not enoble you ; and yet a single
word throws you into a phrenzy, and
you are willing to risk your life to get
satisfaction for it. Your soul , young
man , can yet be touched by honour and
shame ; do you not see how you are
conquered ?”
“ 1 y ield myself your prisoner,” said
Carey, “ the Wizard is too strong for
me.”
“ I did not mean that you were a
poltroon, and you need not formally
retract the lie. Look at those moun
tains to the west; in them rise waters
that flow to the great Mississippi. Be
yond them is a vast country yet unex
plored ; and there, if we are beaten,
we can find homes and freedom. Liber
ty and civilizetion travel westward ;
and we will build Republics—do you
hear I —l say Republics , on these west
ern shores. They shall be better than
any former governments; and beyond
that range shall spring up daughters
still fairer and better. And still farther
westward, bey ond another mighty range
of hills, Liberty shall build still fairer
temples; and these shall be on the
shores of the Pacific, and looking to
wards the cradle of our race. Then the
work of regeneration will cross the
waters ; and where our race began shall
Liberty appear with a countenance of
hope and happiness. Our race has
been doomed to carry their sorrows
and some remnants of their chains
round the earth; but at each remove the
yoke gets lighter, and some of the irons
rust and fall away. May we not hope
that it will at last reach the home
whence it was sent doomed with curses,
regenerated and disenthralled ?
“ Adam, when he fell, was driven
from Eden, and told not to look back
ward ; and farther and farther off his
children seemed to travel. Yet in fact
they did not; at eaeh apparent remove
improved governments brought them
nearer Adam's condition, and at each
remove westward they were in reality
approaching the east again. But let us
descend and go to the house, for you
are weary.”
CHAPTER VIII.
Ambrose Carey, whose imagination
was still affected by the scenes on the
Pilot Mountain, felt more curiosity than
he chose to express, concerning the
family of Council Redwood. The Reg
ulator’s house was a much better and
CHARLESTON. SATURDAY, OCT. 12, 1850.
more handsome one than those of most
of his cotemporaries ; but there was
about it, and the thick woods in its vi
cinity, and the venerable oaks in the
yard, an air of quaintness that made a
strong impreasion on the mind of Ca
rey. To his surprise, however, he found
that Redwood’s daughter was a mere
girl, and his sons about the ages of fif
teen and thirteen ; nor was there any
thing in their conduct, or in that of the
servants, which seemed in the least un
natural. But the young man was dis
turbed with painful doubts; long watch
ing, and sorrow, and his recent fatigues,
brought on a fever, and for several
months he lay in a critical state. Du
ring part of this time he was delirious,
and when he had recovered his senses,
insisted that he had often seen the spirit
of Mary White. That she was dead
and buried, he had the evidence of his
own senses; and still he was equally
positive that while he lay wasting with
fever, the form of his beloved was often
at his bed, ministering kindly to his
wants, and soothing his perturbed spirit
with music that seemed not of earth.
Redwood as ured his friend that some
guardian spirit did, no doubt, watch
over him; and the young Regulator,
for such he had now become, felt, with
his returning strength, anew heart beat
within him. The crisis had passed ; his
soul had successfully wrestled with its
sorrows, and when his fever had left
him, Ambrose Carey found himself a
man full of life and energy, and ready
for great and daring enterprises. Red
wood, so absorbed with attentions to
his friend, had been unable to exert the
influence he wished among his brother
patriots, and now he found that his
counsel would come too late. Civil
war had already displayed his crimson
banner, aud all over the State were
heard the busy notes of preparation.
The Governor had been busy levying
troops and organizing an army, and the
Regulators, eager for a contest of arms,
were collecting in great numbers from
every part of the country. Redwood
and Carey, the former with sad forebo
dings, the latter full of fire and hope,
joined in the general movement, and
soon a considerable army was in the
field. Unhappily, however, this army
was without leaders, without discipline,
and without arms; it was mainly un
der the influence of Husband, who was
a Quaker, and averse to bloodshed, and
of demagogues who knew nothing of
war. These men wished only to in
timidate with a great show of numbers,
and generally the wisest and firmest
among the Regulators held back, while
only the most boisterous joined in the
insurrection. There w r ere, however, in
this mob, the materials for a fine army;
it contained many brave spirits, and
UICiU OMOv men, all KJC VY llUll l, till- j
happily, were unable to effect the least
discipline. On the other side, Tryon,
at the head of a considerable and well
appointed army, took the field, and the
opposing forces advanced against each
other, the Regulators from the west,
and the State forces from the east. The
farther he marched, the more did Am
brose Carey become discouraged ; but
the philosophic Redwood began to view
things in a different light. He became
more and more convinced of the univer
sal love of liberty in the State, and he
concluded that an engagement, howev
er it might end, would ultimately pro
duce salutary effects.
“ We must fight,” said he to Carey;
“there must be bloodshed, and then our
cause is safe. A vast majority of the
people of this Sate are ready for rebel
lion ; but a vague awe, a
sort of dread of power and of royalty*!
holds them back. They cannot at once
fight against a sovereign under whose
sway they heve been raised up; they
entertain an undefined sort of fear of
such a collision. But let there be
bloodshed, let but one of their brethren
be slain in rebellion, and the charm
will be dissolved forever! This blood
will fertilize the earth, and, like the fa
bled dragon’s teeth, produce armed
men ; it will make a fountain that will
never dry up. Y’es, let there be blood
shed in the cause of liberty, and if there
be but a drop, it will make another
and everlasting blot on the gory hands
of Tyranny ! and it will be the blood
of our brethren and kindred ; and none
of our kindred will ever again kiss those
hands.”
On the 16th of May, 1771, the op
posing forces met at Alamance. On
the one side was a tumultuous multi
tude, without leaders, without artillery,
and even to a great extent without guns
or swords; on the other was a well-ap
pointed army, eleven hundred strong,
with experienced and skilful officers,
and a train of heavy guns.
The contest was sharp, but of short
duration; and after a few rounds the
insurgent multitude began to disperse,
carrying off their dead and wounded.—
Some few of them fought with desper
ate valour, and were killed or taken
prisoners, and among the latter was
Ambrose Carey, who in vain wished
that day to meet a soldiers grave. A
good many prisoners were taken, and
some hanged on the spot; of the others,
some took the oath of allegiance, and
others were carried in triumph back to
Hillsborough.
To this place, however, the Governor
did not return immediately, but, as if
to give a finishing blow to the tottering
power of royalty, took a circuitous
march to the west, burning and destroy
ing private property, levying heavy
exactions of provisions for the support
of his army,and exhibiting his prisoners
in chains.
When he arrived in Hillsborough, a
special court of oyer and ternvner was
ordered for the trial of the prisoners,
a number of whom were charged with
high treason ; others were accused of
sedition, murder, and assaults on the
officers of the law. Among the former
was Carey, his principal accuser being
Edmund Fanning. But while he was
awaiting his trial, great efforts were
made to procure his pardon and release.
Many respectable people of Orange,
who had not joined in the movements
of the Regulators, signed memorials
and petitions in behalf of this young
man ; even officers of the Governor’s
army joined in the request, and ladies
of distinction, who had heard of his ro
mantic love, made interest in his favour.
It was all in vain ; Fanning controlled
the Governor, and he insisted on the
death of his former rival.
CHAPTER IX.
There came one day to the Governor
a female who demanded a private au
dience of his Excellency, and at the
interview she obtained permission to
visit Ambrose Carey, in his room in
the prision. It was dusk before she
got ready so enter, and the jailor, there
fore, doubled the sentinels at the door,
and closely and rather rudely exam
ined the lady before she entered. She
was clad in mourning, and deeply veil
ed ; hut the jailor insisted on seeing her
face, so that he might recognize it on
her return.
It was about eleven o’clock when the
keeper of the prison was again called
on to open the door communicating to
the room of Carey, and when he did
so the sentinels seized the figure that
was coming out, while the jailor again
bolted the coor. The removal of the
the veil revealed the features of Am
brose Carey; but in an instant the sen
tinels were knocked down, the jailor
gagged, and the young man seized and
carried out. The transaction was over
in a minute, and before the astonished
soldiers hac recovered their senses,
Council Red vood, with a band of reso
lute friends, was at his camp on the
“ Mountain,’’ a high hill near the town,
and with then was Ambrose Carey.
The affair of his rescue made quite
a sensation, aid so furious was tin- Gov
ernor that he resolved to execute the
female who had played him such a
trick. Early in the morning she was
sent for by lis Excellency, and, to dis
grace her, haded with irons; and when
she presentee herself before him, he
was surrounced by his officers and his
friends, who felt much curiosity con
cerning this mknown heroine.
“ Miss, or madam, or whoever you
be, lift your veil,” said his Excellency,
sternly, “and let us see the face of the
traitress who has played us such a scur
vy trick.”
“Your Excelbncy must forget that my
hands are in ijons,” answered a low,
calm, sweet voce.
“ Lift her vel, Mr. Sheriff,” replied
the Governor. ‘ What now, Fanning,”
he continued, ‘do you recognize the
girl? By my s*ul, she is pretty! why,
Fanning, are y>u mad? What ails
you, man ?’ v
“ May it please your gracious Excel
lency,” whispered Fanning, with a
tremulous voice, and cheeks of an ashen
iiut3 9 “mere ir and mystery ftoout tnis nitii
ter weich 1 will privately explain to
your Excelliiicy. The lady is inno
cent,” he coitinued, still staring at the
person spokui of. “ She is an unhap
py creature, nid I beg your excellency,
for God’s sale, to release her at once?”
She was rdeased, and it was not long
before she fouid herself in the presence
of Redwood ind Carey.
The latter, like Fanning, was over
whelmed will the sight, jov and fear
alternately seizing him ; indeed, it was
painful to wities his emotions, and Red
wood hastened to relieve him.
“ 1 am no wizard,” said the Regula
tor, “and whit you see is not a fleshless
apparition.
“ You saw once an exhalation shoot
from its sphere, and become lost in
darkness; aid 1 told you then there
■re re fixed stirs, and this is one ! Poor
*lary White lies in the gave-yard at
Haw Fields Church; her twin sister,
Fredonia, stands before you !
“ The girls at a tender age were left
without pareits ; one was confided to
my care, and the other to that of Abra
larn White. The little creatures seem
ed exactly alike; yet there was a dif
ference in tluir dispositions, and they
were differently raised.
“ Young nan, have you not now
learned a lesson in wisdom ? Though
Virtue’s semblance should sometimes
fail, Virtue still remains.” This was
said in a low tone to Ambrose alone ;
and the young man, in the living simil
itude of Mary, found a companion of a
brighter eye and deeper soul.
lu the course of time these young
people found themselves indispensable
to each other’s happiness; they were
therefore married, and settled near their
friend and guide, “ the Wizard of the
Pilot.”
The predictions of Redwood in re
gard to the effect of the battle of Ala
mance were literally fulfilled. From
that day the royal authority in North
Carolina was at an end.
The spirit of Liberty began to per
vade all classes; and at the beginning
of the American Revolution every ves
tige of English power suddenly and
forever disappeared in the State. Every
officer, with the exception of Fanning,
who commanded against the Regulators
at Alamance, became a whig in the very
beginning of the contest; and many of
them rose to high rank, and left distin
guished names.
On the 20th of May, 1775, the peo
ple of Mecklenburgh solemnly declared
independence of British rule; and over
the whole State other remarkable illus
trations occurred of the truth of Red
wood’s prophecy.
He himself and his friend Carey per
formed important services in the drama
of the Revolution; and though they
have not., till now, found a historian,
the fruits of their deeds will never per
ish.
chapter x.
Redwood, impelled by his enterpri
sing disposition, left North Carolina
soon after the Revolution ; and though
he and Carey still corresponded occasion
ally with each other, they did not meet
in years.
In the summer of 18—, a caravan
of travellers arrived at the house of
Ambrose Carey ; they were of all ages
and sexes, and in their midst was the
patriach of their tribe, the venerable
i Council Redwood. His form was still
elastic and erect, and his eye clear and
bright; but years had laid their weight
upon him, and he felt the end of his
pilgrimage drawing near. Once more
he w ished to see his native State ; and
gathering together his children and his
grandchildren, he returned with them to
North Carolina.
He had been one of the pioneers of
the Mississippi valley; he carried law
and liberty to those vast solitudes, and
in the course of a few years was the
leading member of a thriving settle
ment. There all his descendants plant
ed farms and accumulated substance ;
and there the name of Redwood prom
ised to become of influence and honour.
But the old man w-ished to die among
the scenes of his youth; and when again
at Carey’s, insisted on being carried to
the top of the I*llol.
“ Let me again worship God on that
altar,” said he, “now- that the land is
free and happy. Let me again behold
it from that height, where J have so
often stood in sorrow and in doubt.”
At his urgent entreaty, he was car
ried up; and falling immediately on
his knees, and stretching forth his arms,
his attendants kneeling and uncover
ing, he offered up a prayer, fervid, sim
ple, and eloquent to the Great God of
truth and justice, thanking him for his
goodness to him and to his country,
and invoking his perpetual blessings
on that land, watered by the blood and
the tears of so many of the best chil
dren of earth.
“ More than thirty years ago,” said
he, afterwards, turning to Carey, “ we
stood in this place; darkness then rest
ed in your soul, and brooded over the
land. The humble Regulators have
spread their leaven over thirteen free
and happy States; and far beyond
those western hills, away in the valleys
of the West, then a howling wilderness,
these sons of Liberty are descending,
carrying light, and freedom, and civili
zation, towards the shores of the Pa
cific. My children—l call you all my
children—l will soon leave you, as Adam
left his heirs, with a world for your her
itage; a world where peace, and free
dom, and law, bring back much that
was lost in the garden of Eden.
“ But Cains will be born, fraternal
strife will arise, and from the blood of
the first brother slain in anger will
spring a curse, whose awful effects will
follow you from generation to genera
tion, even while this mountain stands.
Strain your eyes to the West—far, far
out there is the Pacific, and beyond is
the paternal mansion of our race. It is
a beautiful and glorious country ! and
yet, since the spilling of the blood of
Abel, it has not ceased to be a land of
gloom and strife, of bloodshed and ter
(ioni trom t& a pastf“your cEITd™,
my sons, in a far-off State, w r ould re
member that 1, the father of you all,
was also the lather aud friend, counsel
lor and guide, of the mother and the
father of these Carolinas : that their
fathers and I, in darkness and in sorrow- ,
fought, and counselled, and suffered to
gether, for your common good!”
The fatigues of the day were too
much for the aged Regulator. He was
carried to the house much exhausted ;
and soon, in the full possession of his
faculties, and with a serene countenance,
yielded up his manly spirit. At his
request, he was buried at the base of
the pinnacle or rock, oil the top of the
Pilot. He was laid on the western
side, with his head to the east, in a po
sition, from the nature of the ground,
half erect; and there, as he said, his
grave cannot be “ a battle-field for his
descendants, when they shall be given
up for torment to the devil. And
when hostile armies march hither from
the far West and South, the first land
mark that meets their eyes in the coun
try they come to destroy w ill be the
tomb of their father.
lilimpgrs nf Jinn sanks.
LIFE IN THE WOODS.
From “ Haw-no hoo,” by Charles Lanman.
THE SUGAR CAMP.
Among our most agreeable recollec
tions of the wilderness are those asso
ciated with the making of maple sugar.
Our first taste of this sweetest of wood
land luxuries was received from the
hands of an Indian, into whose wigwam
we had wandered from our father’s
dwelling on one of the Saturday after
noons of our boyhood. It was many
years ago, and long before the frontier
of Michigan was transformed into a
flourishing member of the national con
federacy. Since that time we have not
only eaten our full proportion of the
luxury in question, both in wigwam
and cabin, but we have seen it exten
sively manufactured by the Indian, as
well as the wFite man ; and we now
purpose to discourse upon the article
itself, and upon a few incidents connect
ed with its manufacture.
Maple sugar is made from the sap
of a tree, known by the several names
of rock maple, hard maple, and sugar
maple, which is foufid in great abun
dance in various portions of the Union,
but chiefly in the northern States. It is
a lofty and elegantly proportioned tree,
and its foliage is particularly luxuriant;
and, when touched by the frosts of au
tumn, is pre-eminently brilliant, dhe
wood is also highly esteemed for the
beauty of its fibre, which consists of
concentrical circles, resembling the eye
of a bird; and hence the term birds-e ye
maple.
Generally speaking, the sugar-making
season commences early in April, is
universally considered as one of festiv
tivity, and seldom continues more than
about four weeks. The sudden tran
sition of the temperature from winter
to spring is essential to its production,
for at this season alone does the vital
principle of the tree pass in large quan
tities from the roots into its branches.
Hence it is that, while making this pas
sage, the sap has to be withdrawn; and
this is accomplished by making an in
cision in the tree some three feet from
the ground, and receiving the liquid in
a vessel prepared for the purpose. —
And it has been observed that, when
THIRD VOLUME-NO. 24 WHOLE NO 124.
a frosty night is follow ed by a dry and
sunny day, the sap flows abundantly,
at which times three or four gallons are
obtained from a single tree in twenty
four hours. The process employed for
converting the sap into sugar is perfect
ly simple, and consists in boiling it first
into a syrup and then into a more tan
gible substance. Os this suger there
are two kinds, viz., the hard or cake
sugar, and that of a friable character,
which is produced by constantly stir
ring the thick syrup when it is becom
ing cool. The taste of the sap or juice,
when taken from the tree, is just sw r eet
enough to be noticed; and though we
have never ascertained the quantity
commonly obtained from a single tree,
w r e have been told that a very fruitful
tree, in a good season, may be made
to yield five pounds of the best sugar.
To the human palate this juice is not
generally agreeable, but wild and do
mestic animals are said to be inordi
nately fond of it, and slake their thirst
with it w-henever they can. Although
a sufficient quantity of maple sugar has
never been manfactured in this country
to rank it among our articles of expor
tation, it has, for many years past, been
about the only sugar used by a large
number of people—espee ally those
who live in the more thickly-wooded
districts of the States, and those inhabit
ing the northern and western frontiers
of the United States and Canada. In
the opinion of all who manufacture the
article it is held in high estimation,
both as a luxury and on account of its
nutrition. In regard to this last quali
ty, we believe it is superior to all other
sugars ; for w-e know, from personal ob
servations, that when eaten by the In
dian children, during the manufacturing
season,they become particularly hearty,
though exclusively confined to it as an
article of food for weeks at a time.
From the very nature of the busi
ness, the making of maple sugar is
commonly carried on in an encamp
ment, and we now purpose to describe
the various kinds with w'hieh we are
acquainted, beginning, as a matter of
course, with an Indian camp. We are
speaking of the remote past, and of an
encampment of Ottawa Indians, in one
of the maple forests skirting the west
ern shore of Green Bay. it is in the
month of April, and the hunting sea
son is at an end. Albeit, the ground
is covered with snow, the noonday sun
has become quite powerful, and the an
nual offering has been made to the
Great Spirit, by the medicine men, of
the first product of one of the earliest
trees in the district. This being the
preparatory signal for extensive busi
ness, the women of the encampment
proceed to make a large number of
treasure), and, after these are finished,
the various trees in the neighbourhood
are tapped, and the juice begins to run.
In the mean time, the men of the party
have built the necessary fires, and sus
pended over them their earthern, brass,
or iron kettles. The sap is now flow
ing in copious streams, and from one
end of the camp to the other is at once
presented an animated and romantic
scene, which continues, without inter
ruption, day and night until the end of
the sugar season. The principal em
ployment to which the men devote
themselves is that of lounging about
the encampment, shooting at marks,
and playing the moccasin game; while
the main part of the labour is perform
ed by the w omen, who not only attend
to the kettles, but employ all their lei
sure time in making the beautiful
birchen mocucks, for the preservation
and transportation of the sugar when
made ; the sap being brought from the
troughs to the kettles by the boys and
girls. Less attention than usual is paid
by the Indians at such times to their
meals, and, unless game is very easily
obtained, they are quite content to de
pend upon the sugar alone. If an In
dian happens to return from the river
with a fish, he throws it without any
ceremony into the boiling sap, dipping
it out, when cooked, with a ladle or
stick ; and therefore it is that we often
find in the maple sugar of Indian man
ufacture the bones of a trout, or some
more unworthy fish. That even a bird,
a rabbit, or an opossum, is sometimes
thrown into the kettle instead of a fish
is beyond a doubt; and we are not
positively’ certain that the civilized
fashion of eating jelly with roast lamb
may not be traced the barbarous
custom of cooking animals in hot sap.
That this sap itself, when known to be
clear and reduced to the consistency of
molasses, is a palatable article, we are
ready to maintain against the world;
and we confess that, when not quite so
fastidious as now, we heve often eaten
it in truly dangerous quantities, even
in the cabin of an Indian. As we have
already intimated, the sugar season is
dependent upon the weather; but, even
when it is prolonged to four or five
weeks, it continues from beginning to
end to be one ol hiliarity and gladness.
At such times, even the wolfish-look
in’1 ’ dogs seem to consider themselves
as°entitled to the privilige of sticking
their noses into the vessels of sap not
yet placed over the fire. And in this
manner does the poor Indian welcome
returning spring.
It is now about the middle of June,
and some fifty birchen canoes have just
been launched upon the waters ol Green
Bay. They are occupied by our Ot
tawa sugar-makers, who have started
upon a pilgrimage to Mackinaw. Ihe
di tance is near two hundred miles, and
as the canoes are heavily laden, not on
ly with mocucks of sugar, but with
furs collected by the hunters during the
past winter, and the Indians are travel
ing at their leisure, the party will proba
bly reach their desired haven in the
course of ten days. W ell content with
their accumulated treasures, both the
women and the men are in a particular
ly happy mood, and many a wild song
is heard to echo over the placid lake.
As the evening approaches, day after
day they seek out some convenient
landing-glace, and, pitching the wig
wams on the beach, spends a goodly
portion of the night carousing and tel-
ling stories around their camp fires, re
suming their voyage after a morning
sleep, long after the sun has risen above
the blue waters of the east. Another
sunset hour, and the cavalcade of ca
noes is quietly 7 gliding into the crescent
bay of Mackinaw, and, reaching a beau
tiful beach at the foot of a lolty bluff,
the Indians again draw up their canoes,
again erect their wigwams. And, as
the Indian traders have assembled on
the spot, the more improvident of the
party immediately proceed to exhibit
their sugar and furs, which are usually
disposed offer flour and pork, blankets
and knives, guns, ammunition, and a
great variety of trinkets, long before
i the hour of midnight. That the re
mainder of this night is devoted to
feasting and dancing, and tumultuous
recreation, is a matter of course. But
the trader who would obtain from the
Indians their more unique articles of
merchandize, usually visits the encamp
ment on the following morning, when
he is always certain of obtaining from
the young women, on the most reason
able terms, their fancy mocucks of su
gar, all worked over with porcupine
quills ; and a great variety of beauti
fully worked moccasins, and fancy bags,
made of the sweet-smelling deer skin.
In about a week after their arrival at
Mackinaw, the Ottawa Indians begin to
sigh for the freedom of the w ilderness;
and, before the trader has left his bed
on some pleasant morning, there is noth
ing to be seen on the beach at Macki
naw 7 but the smoking embers of a score
or two of watch-fires.
We would now conduct our readers
into the sugar camp of a Frenchman.
It is situated in one of the maple for
ests of Michigan, on the banks of the
river Kaisen, and within half a mile of
the rude comfortable dwelling of the
proprietor. Very much the same pro
cess is here pursued in making the su
gar that we have already described,
only that a large proportion of the la
bour is performed by the men and
boys, the women participating in the
employment more for the purpose of
carefully packing away the sugar when
made, and having a little romantic sport
in the way of eating hot sugar in the
aisles of the church-like forest. The
season of winter with our Frenchman
has been devoted almost exclusively
to the pleasures of life, and the making
of sugar is the first and probably the
only really lucrative business which he
ever transacts. By the term lucrative
we mean a business which allows him
to lay aside a little spare money, for.
generally speaking (like the class to
which he belongs in the north-west),
lie is perfectly satisfied if the agricul
tural products of his small farm yield
and maple molasses are considered by
our friend and his family as among
their greatest luxuries; and, while he
makes a point of taking a goodly quan
tity to market, he never fails to keep
a plentiful supply of both under his
own roof. In transporting his sugar
(as well as all other marketable arti
cles) to the neighbouring town, he em
ploys a rude two-wheeled vehicle, made
exclusively of wood, and drawn by a
Canadian pony. On his first visit to
the town after the sugar season is end
ed, he will be accompanied by his en
tire family, decked in their more tidy
garments; and, before his return home;
you may be certain that the Catholic
priest, whose church he regularly at
tends, w'ill receive a handsome present
of the newly-made sugar, with perhaps
a small keg of the delicious maple
syrup or molasses. And thus does the
Frenchman of the frontier welcome the
return of spring.
But we have spent some pleasant
days in the sugar camps of the Dutch
yeomanry on the eastern and southern
side of the Catskill Mountains, and we
must not omit to pay our respects to
them. The very best of sugar is made
in this region, and much of it into solid
cakes of various sizes, from one pound
to twenty. It is manufactured here
both for home consumption and the
market, and the price which it has usu
ally commanded during the last ten
years has been about one York shilling
per pound. The labour in this region
is about eqully divided between the
women and the men, and considerable
attention is devoted to the cultivation
of the maple-tree. In cooling their
sugar, or rather in performing the busi
ness called “sugaring off,” the Dutch
employ immense wrought-iron pans,
which are undoubtly a great improve
ment upon the Indian and French fash
ions, which are simply no fashions at
all, since the kettle employed to boil
the sugar are used to cool it off.
But the Dutch of whom we are
speaking, those especially who are more
wealthy than their neighbours, have a
very sensible mode of w inding up their
sugar-making labours by giving what
they term a “ Sugar-bee” or party. —
The elements which go to make up one
of these rustic entertainments it would
be difficult to describe. We may men
tion, however, that everybody is invi
ted, old men and their wives, young
men and maidens; that the principal
recreation is that of dancing to the
music of a fiddle ; that a most sump
tuous and excessively miscellaneous
feast is spread before the multitude ;
that the people assemble in the after
noon, and generally succeed in getting
home an hour or two after the break
of day. That an abundance of maple
sugar is met with on these occasions
will be readily imagined, and we may
add that, in those districts where tem
perance societies are unpopular, the
sugar is taken considerably adulterated
in whisky.
The last sugar-bee to which we ever
had the pleasure of being invited, while
once sojourning among the Catskills,
was given by an old Dutchman who
resided on the side of a mountain, some
ten miles from our temporary abode.
We started for his house about sun
down, in a large lumber-wagon, which
was packed by no less than eight bux
om damsels and four young men be
sides ourself. Although when step
ping into the wagon we were a perfect