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aroiEM iwitAiii mwm TERMS, $2,00 PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE. (Original For the Southern Literary Gazette. 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 & fmM mwm*, mwm m mmumm. mn mb shim®, mb m mm mb nmysiMi. 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