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Korili* Southern Literary Gazette.
CHILDHOOD.
BY 184A AVISTA.
Childhood is beautiful!
1 love a child, a bold yet gentle boy,
VVho.-c fearless eye out-speaks the dauntless
soul
Uudimmed by care, unfettered yet by Art,
With Nature’s freshness keenly sensitive
To Nature’s beauty, and in earth and sky
Perceiving only sunshine, for to him
The darkest day is bright.
Childhood is wonderful !
I love a child in whom our Reason’s eye
(.’an see the budding intellect expand,
(iriispmjj new thoughts with wondering delight,
leveloping, with dim self-consciousness,
, j'jje deep and living ideas of the soul; ,
W TikT'inierrttfg*instinct,
llisimg with curious search from cause to cause
Upward to Father—Clod.
Childhood is mystery !
1 love a child ; his upward panting spirit
\< Nature’s faithful light out-shadowing
Strange man’s immortal destiny ; and there
We read the unrolling volume of the soul,
Ever unfolding on from birth to death,
Glancing n> life beyond the grave, and on
From death unto eternity, and on
FnroDiug ever more. 1 love a child !
(Original (Pairs.
por the Southern Literary Gazette.
LEILA FORRESTER.
BV MISS SUSAN A. STUART.
CHAPTER I.
W hat could la- lovelier than the
group collected in the elegantly luruish
<•(] drawing room, of Mr. Forrester, on
a cold, frosty niglit in January. 1 lie
glowing coals, with which the burnished
grate was well heaped, threw their fit
ful gleams alike on the stately matron
—the elegant man —a gem of a sweet
girl just hovering on the confines of
childhood —and some angel children, in
ail their romping gleefulness.
The shaded lamp has been brought
in, and is now placed on the sofa-table,
at which, sits Mr. Forrester himself;
a gentleman in the prime of life, of
no.regularity as to features, but with
a countenance so fraught with eloquence
and intellectuality, as would redeem,
trom the epithet common-place, a much
worse face than the one he bears. Half
reclining on the sola, is his wife, who,
in her mature years, reminds one of a
full blown, but perfect rdse, ere yet the
sun has kissed it too warmly.
If she, tlie mother, be the rose, then
indeed is Leila Forrester the sweetest
hud that ever eye rested upon, in her
young and girlish loveliness. Do not
dread, dear reader, a long and minute
description of her style of beauty. I
might as well endeavour to paint you
the dazzling sunbeam, as herever chang
ing radiance. Hut, let me tell you one
thing, and that about her eyes. They
would have struck you at I he very first
glance from their singular, yet exqui
site expression. Large, and ot a deep
gley, with dilating pupils, with the
longest and most beautiful silken fringe
to their snowy lids 1 ever beheld. A
gu>h of music too, was in her soft,
low tones, with which she sought to
amuse her young sisters clustering
around her. the youngest of them, I
the baby, was seated on tier lap; and j
of the other two, one was kneeling at j
her feel, the other, half reclining on :
the large Ottoman upon which she was j
seated, (ills, her brother, nearly her !
own age, a manly youth, was sitting
in an arm chair near the group, and oc
casionally throwing in a word or two
to teuze the darlings.
“How very lovely our Leila is be
coming, Margaret,” said Mr. Forrester,
as he watched his children, whose low
musical laughter was floating through
the room. “Did you ever see anything
so gentle and refined as she is is, even
in her gayest words. Well, indeed,
does she deserve the name 1 jestingly
gave her, in infancy, of “our gentle
ladye.” Is she not lovely, dearest!”
“Very fair, indeed, William, 1 have
ever thought her beautiful, liay, angelic
L the word. Have you heard her play
and sing lately?”
; “No; but as 1 feel as it music would
he * treat to night, 1 must get her to
■siiigVdore tea is brought in. Leila,
j 11 \ daughter, when you have finished
that wonderful story, bring Fanny to
me and siso for me.”
ilh pleasure, pa, 1 have nearly
finished.”
When the talc ended, I‘anny was
resigned with a kis to papa’s arms,
and Leila seated herself at the piano.
“What shall I play, pa?”
“ ‘Auld Robin Grey,’ my birdie; and
then anything you please.”
Soon was the room filled with the
liquid, plaintive tones of that young, j
but well-trained voice, in her father’s
favourite ballad ; and at its conclusion, j
the tea-waiter made its appearance, and .
Leila advanced to the centre-table to j
help her young sisters.
“How would my daughter like to be J
the wife of an auld Robin Grey?’ j
queried Mr. Forrester, as he sipped his j
tea, and looked smiling on Leila.
“1 have no fancy for it at all, pa; 11
A’ MiiiM Mum k m&m n uhm&wm, j m ami asb MMm. abb n mbmai mewdemiL
never intend leaving you and mam
ma.”
“Ah! very well, very w 11, Miss
Leila, I shall remember tl t, when
some of these days your beaux will
be asking me for you.”
“My dear William,” said his wife,
“only look!” directing iiis attention to
Fanny, who had left his knee, and was
now ding'ng caressingly to her sister,
w ith tears in her large blue eyes, pout
ingly answering Gus’ teazing speeches
about Leila’s going away ; ‘she shan’t
go, my Lele—my sissy.’ “Look!”
confound Alts. Forrester, “how those
children cling in love to her. Really
I think she is more beloved than either
of us. Fanny, dearest, come to mam
*TT.. i. ” “"Co .me shall evo'r fake sisl'r
Leila from you. Come, darling.”
“Yes, go little chatter-box,” said
Gus. “Sister Lee shall not marry any
one, but will keep house for you and
I. (Anne kiss biddy, and say yes
too ”
“And for me —and for me too,” said
Anne and Mary, as in their eagerness
to put in their claim, the supper was
abandoned.
“Be quiet, dear ones,” said her ten
der voice. “Too noisy for pa and ma.
Let us go now, if you have finished
your supper, and kiss them ‘a good
night.’ ”
She advanced gracefully, with Fanny
and tlie little girls.
“Good night, my darling,” said her
fund father, as ho pressed his lips to her
white forehead. “Good night, my lit
tle ones, you must always love one
another.”
“He careful Leila, that the children
read, and say their prayers ; said the
mother, as she returned the fond “good
niglit.” “You know that 1 trust them
entirely to your care.”
“And no one can fulful that charge
better, wife,” replied her husband,
when tlie children had retired. “Truly
we have a prize in our daughter; day
by day have 1 watched her, and no an
gry, harsh, or unkind word does she
ever utter to those children. She seems
utterly forgetful of self, in her com
mune with them. What a glorious
woman she will make!—calm, unruf
fled, with her beautiful brow lit up
w ith the holy principle of self devotion.
She will lie as a wife the same —iti a
stronger and more enduring manner—
to tlie happy man who may win her.”
“Yes, dear William, she is every
thing, and more than you describe her.
The servants almost worship Iter; and
I really believe she is an exception to
the old saying—‘that never was man
or woman hero to their valets' —for,
she is ever to them as exalted —as
ideal as she appears to strangers.”
“True, Margaret, true; and I am
proud of my daughter. And now,
wife, what shall it be this evening.
Chess ? What say you to a game ? or,
shall 1 read you that exquisite Culprit
Fay ? I await your decision, fair la
dy.”
“The book, by all means; I know
’twill please you best, \\ illiatn.”
And she placed herself still more
comfortably at the table, with some
light work to employ her lingers;
1 whilst her lover-like husband, after ad
i justing the lamp shade, commenced in
j a clear, musical voice, that sweet
j poem.
CHAPTER 11.
Tread softly—for you now enter the
chamber ot one, sick unto death.—
Those noiseless steps, moving around
her dying bed —for it is Mrs. Forrester
—are those of Leila, who, with all the
devotion of her loving heart, has never
left her side; but, with the watchful
ness of true, unwearied affection, hov
ers ever around her couch of pain, like
a ministering angel. Mrs. Forrester
now opens her fast dimming eyes as
Leila bends over her.
“My mother,” said her sweet, young
voice.
“Leila, dearest, I am in no pain now.
is no one in the room beside yourself,
my daughter?”
“No one, darling mother. 1 have
persuaded pa to lie down, and nurse is
also resting. Wliat would you say to
me?”
And she smoothed tenderly as a
mother would, some straggling hair off
her mother’s brow, as she pressed her
lips to it.
“Give me something to drink, dar
ling, and then listen to me.”
Leila obeyed.
“My daughter you are so young, and
i am about to load your young heart
with a weight of responsibility. Hut
Jailing, 1 know you, and I feel that
tour firmness and devotion, as regards
those whom you love, exceed by far
your years. In your hands, and to
your care and love, do 1 leave your sis
ters. Your father 100, my child ! He
will never marry. He unto him a
counsellor, companion, comforter. —
Enter as 1 have ever done, into all his
; schemes, his ambitions. It lie has any
favourite pursuit, or plan, let it also be
j yours. Let him never miss your sym-
pathy, either in joy or sorrow. I know
all this is difficult for one of your age,
but you are so difieren’- worn other
girls. You have ever immolated self,
and I know your affection for your sis
ters. I can speak but a little longer,
my own Leila, my dearest child. Pro
mise me, and then call your father
and tlie children, I would have them
near me.”
“My own darling mother, I will
pray God to make me what you wish;
and w ill promise to do my very utmost
to fulfill your desire. My dear, dear
mother—”
Hut with forethought and firmness,
unlocked for in one so young, the te
were, di jvrli back, Uiat'eveM that
eessarv pang might be spared her dy
ing parent.
Mr. Forrester and the awed little
ones entered, and clustered around that
dying hod, there to receive her fare
well, and last admonitions. Oh! what
eloquence in a death-bed ! How much
more powerful, than the most sublime
sermons delivered from the lips of the
great and good—is the ghastly counte
nance—the quivering, shortening, gasp
ing breath—the dimming and glazing
eye—the spasmodic grasp of the hand
tiiat has so often lingered in ours, in af
fection’s fond clasp. All, all speak to us
more loudly than a thousand tongues —
telling us of our mortality—the vanity
of all earthly things—how impossible,
even to our love, “which is as strong as
death,” to retain <>ur dear ones with us;
and warning us by that very mortality,
not to place our affections upon things
of earth.”
She was buried ; and a change came
over that once gay household. Hut,
most of all, was that dear one missed
by Mr. Forrester and Leila. The chil
dren, so fondly loving their sister, and
having that affection so amply returned,
could not miss her. Gus, too, was
soon ordered to join his ship, aud with
new scenes, and new faces, his recollec
tions and sorrowful regrets, began to
wear uwy ; and he, with bouyant spi
rits, to look forward only to a reunion
with those loved ones still left unto
him. Mr. Forrester, bereft of one to
whom he had ever turned as to his
equal, now sought anew field for con
solation —that of ambition. Eminent
he had eve’- been as a lawyer; and
now attaching himself to polities, he
soon began to lie looked upon by his
party, as a fit person to represent them
in Congress. He, now eager for every
new excitement and scene, accepted the
nomination ; and by-his eloquence and
unequalled canvassing abilities, found
eimself at the close of the electioneer
ing campaign, elected over his oppo
nent by an overwhelming majority.—
And yet, the first thought that leaped
from his mind—shadowing with the
dark cloud of regret, tlie sunshine of
the successful present, was—“lf Mar
garet had been only spared to witness
my triumph—to have shared my hon
ours.”
M ■s. Alton, an old and most faithful j
friend of Airs. Forrester, had been stay
ing with tlie family since his wife’s
death, had been prevailed upon by Mr.
Forrester, to continue in charge; and,
as she had no relations, and was sin
cerely attached to the whole family,
she remained.
The winter was approaching; and
Air. Forrester was to tal e his seat in
Congress, Leila accompanying him.—
Yet, the young girl had no thought
for her own pleasure, and triumphs in
the Metropolis ; a higher and a nobler
motive actuated her when she expres
sed her glad acquiescence, in her father’s
wish for her to accompany him. “1
shall be near to comfort if any unfor
seen circumstance should happen to
him,” was her loving reflection. Well
indeed, did Mrs. Forrester know her
child when she expressed to her, her
dying wishes. Leila knew that her
young sisters were well cared for in
their quiet home by Mrs. Alton ; and
felt that it was her duty to be the com
panion of her w idowed father among
strangers if he so wished.
Behold them then in Washington
City, located in an excellent boarding
house, with agreeable and refined in
mates. Mr. Forrester’s maiden speech
in the Hall of Representatives, was a
decided “hit and henceforward it be
came the fashion to cry up the elo
quent Air. Forrester, and his lovely
daughter.
And that lovely daughter passed
scathless through the round of gay
parties, theatrical entertainments, Ac.,
every where forgetful of self in her
watchful love and care for her father;
unmindful alike of her own beauty,
and those who would be slaves to her
will, in the absorbing thought ot ren
dering herself his most pleasant coin
panion. And well did he repay her
attention. His careworn, and now
rather stern expression would instantly
relax, did she but enter the room where
he was in conversation ; and a smile of
almost womanly tenderness would light
up his countenance as he met her look.
Leila each day gained new graces.—
CHARLESTON. SATURPA.I, JUNE 28. 1851.
Tall and delicate, with her magnificent
chevelure of dark brown, wound in a
natural coronet round her small classi
cally shaped head; and those strange,
lustrous eyes lit up with her pure, lov
ing thoughts, she moved among those
passion-stirred, va litv-fiitting creatures
like a being of another sphere. Many
wondered that one so young, should be
so self-possessed, so calmly dignified,
as the exquisitely beautiful Miss For
rester; ever conducting herself with
such courteous, yet almost regal grace.
They could not look into the heart of
that young creature, and see the cause
of it, in her uttei urn of
roduei dflW others by
her beauty, in her motst
pbiVeot absorption in her father. She
imagined >n the iicw scenes to which
he was exposed, though fascinating
from their novelty, that danger must
lurk, as the serpent, under the flower’s;
and therefore sin* gave herself up with
an eut.ireness—a forgetfulness of self
in order to discharge her duty faith
fully.
When, at the close of the session,
Mr. Forrester returned to his home
with fresh laurels, bringing w ith him
his fair young daughter, not a few
were the disappointed lovers, whose
sentence, Leila had deputed him to
pronounce.
That dear Leila! you should have
seen her as 1 did, when she met her
young sisters, lier’s, was indeed a
heart capable of loving, of clinging in
all fondness. Hei large, fawn looking
eyes were glistening in tears, as she
witnessed their demonstrations of af
fection ; as humble, as little exacting,
as if all this was not her due, the pay
ment of her life-long loan. Ajid she
now entered with all engoument of
childhood, into all their simple narra
tives, from their new cuttings of choice
roses, down to their doll’s mock ail
ments—every where finding remedies
for disasters, praises for good conduct.
Is it any wonder that Air. Forrester
should feel proud of, and glory in this
daughter?
CHAPTER HI.
“Fanny, don’t teaze Mr. Percy,”
said Leila, as she entered the breakfast
room of tlie cottage —the summer res
idence of the Forresters. “Come, /
wYi 1 ‘ gather you some flowers for pa,’
before breakfast.”
“And I, may I help you to make
Fanny’s bouquet?’” said the youth, as
lie lollowed Leila into the portico
through tlie French windows, and step
ped after her into the beautifully ar
ranged garden. “Shall I assist you,
Miss Leila in your selection? Oh!
do look at this beautiful moss rose
bud. Is it not lovely ? Do you know
Le—l beg ten thousand pardons, Aliss
Leila, you must blame Gus for my fa
miliarity—do you know, that I never
sec a moss rose-bud, but that my
thoughts fly off to home at once. I
have a dear little sister that always re
minds me of one in her gentle loveli
ness. This one, 1 beg you will take
from me as a flowery daguerreotype of
Nannie, hoping, one of these days, to
introduce her to you in reality.”
“I should like to know her very
much. We always feel a desire to be
acquainted with the other members of
a family, when we know intimately
any one of the family. Don’t you?”
“Yes; when I know them to admire
and esteem, as you ladies have it. For
my part, I knew yon long before lever
saw you, Gus—as 1 suppose he has
long since told you—got into some lit
tle scrape when he first joined, and
from which, 1, being an oldster, rescued
him. There were no officers then on
board of my own age, whom 1 partic
ularly liked, and so, from circumstan
ces at first and afterwards choice, Gus
and I became sworn friends. All his
tales of home, painted you, as you
are, for it is impossible, in description,
to exceed the reality; and the shores
of the blue Mediterranean, and every
other place where our ship sailed,
could they speak, would tell of your
name oft repeated. 1 am often tempted
myself, to say ‘■Leila,’ and I therefore
must beg pardon before hand, should
I make the ‘lapsus lingua.’ ”
“Not much of ail offence;” said Lei
la, though she blushed most “rosy red”
as she met his eye.
The breakfast bell now summoned
them to the house ; and reentering tlie
room which they had before left, they
found all the family assembled. After
Leila had kissed her father, she took
her usual seat at tlie head of the table,
round which the others ranged them
selves.
Janies may speak as he pleases, of
nothing being equal to an English
breakfast, but I rather calculate, as the
Yankee says, that if he had deigned to
peep into the breakfast-room of the
cottage, he might add, in his next book,
by way of variety , a Virginia one, as a
set off. The exquisitely clean, white
damask, with its nicely covered tea
tray, upon which, glittered in all their
gloss and polish, the French china,
whilst thy smoking and luscious beef
steaks, Sets, and oysters from famed
“Lyndiuivan;” and the whitest of all
white breads, with their crust peeping
from under the snowy napkins, varied
too, with the brown and crisp looking
johnny-die, the muffin and waffle, the
usiuij aocnmpanimeiits of the fragrant
Mocha. • Then, too, the castors, the
doyley-ifSgs were all so bright and
shining, fiid offered so beautiful a con
trast tijrthr snow white cloth aud ser
v/vftt.. .And the race a. mind that
abundant and peaceful board . So k
ing,*’ ■ beautiful, > fres* ‘hat I ques
tion we whole worlu i uld beat
them Vsecpting “merry England.”
Thjdi ‘ 11 ■ ‘b.wcrs came volup
floWVp’“‘T like s\ feet nusssagcS from
loved ones; and the laugh and light
were eely exchanged among the
happy ones .gathered around that break
tast tabl< ‘Algernon Percy, the young
man spoken of above, had been the
life of that circle for several weeks,
and was looked upon by them as part
of the family—so decidedly popular
had he become.
Leila sat at the head of the table,
dispensing tea and coffee, smiles and
kind words with a grace and a manner,
which made her more beautiful than
when in costly garb, she decked some
magnificent enteitainment. Her sim
ple morning dress of white muslin,
confined at the throat by a neck rib
bon of pale pink, fitted nicely her
slight figure; whilst her luxuriant mas
ses of hair, handed around her si naif,
proudly-set ‘head, need no other orna
ment. At her right, sat Mrs. Alton,
on her left, Percy, whilst at the foot
was seated Air. Forrester, with Gus
and Fanny, the intermediate seats be
ing occupied by Anna and Alary.
How happy they all looked as they
thus sat, eating and chatting. Gus re
lating, with spirit, some frolic of the |
preceding day, to his father; crying up
his own prowess, and showing, in ri
diculous colours, Leila’s timidity—
whilst she sal laughing with him, not
needing so defend herself, that task be
ing pretty well done by Percy and the
children.
“Sister, I’ll thank you for another j
cup of coffee, to recruit from my fa
tiguing explanation.”
“Inu’ec 1 * ‘lns, Ido not think you de
‘ serve o:u.u after listening to
your r,',, . account of yesterday’s
walk, in whfeh I figure so well. Shall
1 give you a cup, Mr. Percy ?”
“Thank you, no more. Hut I have
one favour to beg of you,” and his
voice lowered, though they were mak
ing a clatter at tlie other end of tlie
table. “’Tis that you wall call me Al
gernon, instead of Afr. Percy. It seems
so cold to have one whom we love to
call us Mister.”
The young man blushed even as
much as Leila, at his impromptu deela
tion made so ingenuously. But it was
unnoticed by the remainder of the par
ty —unless, indeed, Airs. Alton saw
and heard, but she had at tiiat moment
turned to address a servant—and their
embarrassment passed without com
ment.
Such had been the happy manner in
which they had been passing their
time, that the days flew along; and
now, Leila and Algernon began to ac
knowledge to themselves, but not to
each other, they loved.
Percy had accompanied Gus on a
visit, and had become, as we before
said, one of that happy household.—
But nineteen years of age, he had not
yet added the star to the anchor, which
proclaimed him Past Midshipman, and
his castle building had filed upon that
period, for which he was now study
ing, ere he could dare say to Leila
what he dreamed of by day and night.
For the present, he was happy, ever
by her side, tendering some slight ser
vice, living only in her presence,
“lie had ceased
To live within himself; she. was his life,
The ocean to the river of his thoughts,
Which terminated all; upon a tone,
A touch ot hers, his blood would ebb and flow,
And his cheek change tempestuously.”
The day, however, was drawing near
for departure, and yet he had no thought
of telling Leila the tale of his love.—
She was young, and he thought she
loved him, and was certain she must
have guessed his feelings towards her,
And with youth’s hopefulness, that
lives only in the present, lie deferred
binding her by any engagement, until
he. could honourably ask her hand from
hbr father.
The day of his departure came !
Leila, in her inmost-heart, felt tlie ag
ony of the hour; yet, had she so school
| ed herself to bear it, that her face,
j though pale, was calm and placid. She
’ had hidden this intenseness of feeling
1 in her heart like those volcanic lues 1
which rage with violence within the
depths of the earth.
Gus, poor fellow, felt this second
parting more acutely than the first;
for he had tried the world, and found
it not quite so beautiful and bright as
he had imaged it in his castle building.
Pass over to yourself three months
j since Gus and Percy setout in the Sar
atoga, during which time, Leila and
Iter sisters were making his hearth still
happy for Mr. Forrester. Hut woe is
me! my tale is over true and life-like
—after one bright sunlight of happi
ness, must come the cloud of sorrow.
Mr. Forrester, was suddenly and fa
tally seized with an affection of the
heart, and notwithstanding skillful, and
almost immediate assistance, breathed
his last.
Now, indeed, came the trial. What
‘"as to be done? The news came full
soon, that his atiiiirs were entangled,
and that every thing must lie sold to
pay his or diiors. Too true was the
report; and poor Leila was aroused
from the, stupor, ••£ £<•* 4o .listen,
the plans suggested by her kind friend
Airs. Alton, who, more than faithful,
hut clung tlie closer to tlie orphans in
their misfortunes. That dear cottage
must be sold; ami Mrs. Alton deter
mined with her small means, to rent
a house it, the adjoining town, and live
there with the family, increasing her
income, by a little school.
She did so; and kind creature tiiat
she was, found ample recompense for
her noble charity, in the love and al
most veneration, with which she was
regarded by tlie Forresters. They,
too, poor tilings, were learning their
hard lesson bravely ; meeting loving
ly and uncomplaining every privation.
Some kind friend had purchased and
. presented to Leila her nurse, Rose, and
never did the heir of Ravenseroft have
j a more devoted servitor, in old Caleb,
than Leila Forrester found in her nurse,
Rose.
(.Concluded in our next.)
Mae • Hi • i r ii r iirnnr n n——
(Uiiiiijiufß nf 30rui ladulul
ARREST OF AARON BURR.
From Pickett’s “History of Alabama,” Vol. 11., now
in tlie prww of Walker & James, Charleston.
During a cold night in February,
j 1807,’two young men—Nicholas Per
kins, a lawyer, ajid Thomas Malone,
clerk of the court —were sitting in their
cabin, in the village of Wakefield,
\\ ashington county, Alabama. Before
them was a backgammon board, and
they were absorbed in the playing of
tiiat game. The hour was ten o’clock.
The distant tramp of horses arrested
their attention. Two travellers pre-
- - r*~
sently rode up to the door, one of
whom inquired for the tavern. It was
pointed put to him, and then he asked
tlie road to Cot. Hinson’s. Perkins,
informed him that the route lay over j
difficult paths, the place was seven i
miles distant, and a dangerous creek
intervened. The fire being replenished
with pine, now threw a light in the
face of tlie traveller who propounded
these questions, llis countenance ap
peared to Perkins exceedingly interest
ing. His eyes sparkled like diamonds,
while he sat upon his splendid horse,
caparisoned with a fine saddle and new
holsters, llis dress was that of a plain ]
farmer, but beneath his coarse panta- !
loons protruded a pair of exquisitely j
shaped boots, llis striking features,
with the strange mixture of his appa
rel, aroused the suspicions of Perkins,
and no sooner had the two travellers
ridden from the door, than he said to
Malone, with the most earnest gesticu
lation, “That is Aaron Burr. I have
read a description of him in the pro
clamation. I cannot be mistaken. Let
us follow him to llitison’s, and take
measures for his arrest.” Malone de
clined to accompany him, remonstra
ting, at the same time, upon the folly
of pursuing a traveller, at such a late
hour of the night, and upon the basis
of tlie merest conjecture. Perkins now
nished to the cabin of Theodore Bright
well, the sheriff, and awoke him. Pre
sently these men were seen riding off
with a rapid pace. The night was bit
ter cold, and the pine trees of the for
est sadly moaned.
The travellers strangely made their
way to the residence of Hinson, where
they arrived about half past eleven
o’clock. The moon had just risen, and
enabled the lady of the house, wlmse
husband was absent, to see that they
were travellers, by their saddle-bngs
and tin cups, as she timidly peeped
through a small window. She made
no answer to their “halloo,” but quiet
ly closed the window. The strangers
alighted and went into the kitchen
where a cheerful fire was yet burning.
Perkins and the sherilf soon came in
sight of the house. The former, recol
lecting tiiat he had already been seen
at Wakefield, thought it politic to re
main in the woods, until Hrightwell
could go in the house, make the neces
sary discoveries, and return to him.—
Airs. Ilinson was a relative of the she
riff, and, recognising his voice, felt re
lieved, by his appearance, from the
fears she had felt, in consequence of
the strangers having come at such a
late hour of the night. Hrightwell re
paired to the kitchen, and discovered
one of these men sitting by the fire,
with his head down, while a handker-
chief partially concealed his face. llis
companion had gone to the stable, to
assist a negro in taking care of the
horses. It was not long before they
went into the main building, where the j
hostess had hastily prepared supper.-
While the eider traveller was eating,
he engaged her in a sprightly conversa
tion, in which he often thanked her for
. her kindness. At the same time, he
cast the keenest glances at the sheriff,
who stood before the fire, evidently ;
witii the endeavour to read his thoughts
and intentions. After he had finished
his supper, he arose from tlie table,
bowed to the lady, walked back to the
kitchen and took his seat by the fire.
Airs. Hinson then turned to his com
panion, and said, “Have 1 not, sir, the
honour of entertaining Colonel Burr,
FOURTH VOLniR-NO. 9 W4IOLF Nn. 161
the gentleman who has just walked
out ?” He gave, her no answer, but
rose front the table, much embarrassed, |
and also repaired to the kitchen. Her
question had been prompted by Hright
well. In the morning, after breakfast, j
the elder traveller sought ati interview |
with tlie lady, took occasion again to
thank her for her hospitable attentions, i
regretted the absence of her husband, !
inquired tile route to Pensacola, and
rode off with his companion.
Perkins remained t* f his post in the
woods, shivering with cold, and won
dering why Brightweil did not return
to him. llis patience at length be
came exhausted, and believing the per
sun he was pursuing to be really Burr,
he mounted his horse, and rode rapidly
to tlie house of Joseph Bates, Sr., at
Nannahubba Bluff. Procuring from
that gentleman a negro and a canoe,
la.- caddied down ‘ hrLiivor, and arrived
arjfoh StKlcl.li’t at tli* braking ot
day. Rushing into the fort, and ac
quainting Captain Edmund P. Gaines
with his suspicions, tin- latter made in
stant preparations to take the road.—
After a hasty breakfast, about tlie ri
sing of the sun, Gaines, placing himself
at tlie head of a file of mounted sold
iers, rode off with Perkins. About
nine o’clock that morning they met the
two mysterious travellers, on tlie de
scent of a hill, near a wolf-pen, at the
distance of two miles from the resi
deuce of Hinson. The following con
versation immediately ensued :
Gaines. —l presume 1 have tlie hon
our of addressing Colonel Burr.
Stranger.—l am a traveller in the
country, and do not recognise your
right to ask such a question.
Gaines. —I arrest you at the instance
of tlie Federal Government.
Stranger.— By what authority do
you arrest, a traveller upon the high
way, on liis own private business?
Gaines — l am an officer of tlie ar
my. 1 hold in my hands the procla
mations of the President and the Gov
ernor, directing your arrest.
Stranger. —You are a young man,
and may not lie aware of the responsi-
I bilities which result from aresting tra
vellers.
Gaines. —l am aware of the respon
sibilities, but I know my duty.
The stranger now became exceeding
ly a imated, and, with much eloquence
and force, denounced these proclania- I
tions, as documents which had emana
ted in malevolent feeling, without any
just foundation, and endeavoured again
to frighten the young officer from dis
charging his duty, by ingeniously ani
madverting upon tlie great liabilities
which he was about to assume. But
Gaines sternly replied, “ALy mind is
J ’“I J ’“ |
made up. You must accompany me
to Fort Stud dart, where you shall be
treated with all the the
ex-Vice-President of the l
jso long as you make no an . ti ) es
! cape from me.” The stia.■ • h or a
moment, gazed at him with earnest
ness, apparently surprised at the unu
sual firmness which the young officer
exhibited. He then assented by a gen
tle notion of his head, wheeled his I
horse around, and took the road to the
fort, riding by the side of the captain.
His travelling companion rode back
towards Wakefield, with Brightweil,
! the sheriff, who was in company with
j the two travellers, when they were
; met by Gaines.*
! The party reached the fort - in the
evening, and Colonel Burr, being con
ducted to his room, took his dinner
alone. Late in the night, he heard a
groan in an adjoining room. He arose
from a table at which he was reading,
opened the door, entered the room,
and approached the bedside of Geo.
S. Gaines, the brother of the command
ant, who was sick. He was kind to
the sufferer, felt his pulse, said he had
travelled much and knew something of
medicine, and offered liis services.—
They now’ entered into an agreeable
conversation. Burr asked the Choc
taw factor many questions about the
Indians, and their commerce. The next
day he appeared at the dinner table,
and was introduced to the wife of the
j commandant, who was the daughter of
Judge Harry Toulmin. In the eve
ning, he played chess w ith that accom
plished lady, and during his confine
ment at the fort, was often her com
petitor in tiiat intricate game. Every
night he sought the company of the
invalid, who became exceedingly at
tached to him, and who felt deep re
gret on account of the downfall of so
interesting and so distinguished a char-
acter. Often and often did the good
heart of George S. Gaines grieve over
tne adversities and trials of this re
markable man, as they discoursed to
gether. Jn ail their conversations,
j maintained every night, the impene
trable Burr never once alluded to the
designs which he had failed to carry
out, to his present arrest, or to iiis fu
ture plans.
m the meantime, Captain Gaines j
had been untiring in his exertions to I
fit out. an expedition, for the convey
ance of his distinguished prisoner to |
the iederal city. At length he placid j
Burr in a boat, along witii a file of sol
diers, and lie was rowed up the Ala
bama river, and then into Lake Ten
saw. Passing some houses on the banks,
several ladies wept, upon seeing the j
ex-\ ice-President a prisoner, and one
*lt remains a mystery, to this day, why
Brightweil did not keep his promise with Per- j
kins, and I can only account for it by suppos- j
ing that he became fascinated with Colonel
Burr, was sorry that he had sought to arrest
him, and was now conducting him to Mrs.
Carson’s ferry, upon the Tombigby, on the
route to Pensacola. Burr had seen Colonel
Hinson at Natchez, who had invited him to his j
house, should he ever paso that way. When I
he escaped from Natchez, he was secreted, from 1
time to time, at the houses of his friends, and
he was hastening to Hinson’s, with whom he
j had intended to pass a week. But when he
i found him absent, and himself discovered by
Brightweil, who probably informed him of the
intentions of Perkins, he determined to fly to
Pensacola, and there take a ship for Europe.
He intended to enlist wealthy and influential
persons, both in England and Frauce, in the
scheme of making tlie conquest of the North
American Spanish possessions, now’ that he
had so signally failed to accomplish it in the
Ui ited States.
nt tkwl t “Gasoil fiu-him. Every -
where,.jti fyTSouth-NVest, the ladies
were attached to the man, and suffered
their feelings to become enlisted in be
half of his unfortunate enterprises. It
is a prominent and noble trait in the
female character, to admire a man of
daring and generous impulses, and to
pity and defend him in his adversi
ties!*
Arriving at the Boat Yard, Burr dis
embarked, and was delivered to the
guard which was so long to be with
him, in dangers and fatigues. It con
sisted of Colonel Nicholas Perkins, of
I ennessee, who had, as we have seen,
been the cause of his arrest, Thomas
Malone, formerly a clerk in the land
office, at Raleigh. North-t ‘arolina, but
who, at this period, was a clerk of the
court of Washington county, Alabama,
Ilem v if Slade, of North-Carolina,
John Mills, a native of Alabama. John
! i(*nrv. of TennoWr. w.. brothers
named McCormack, of Kentucky, and
two federal soldiers. With the excep
tion of the two soldiers, Perkins had
chosen these men, on account of the
confidence which he reposed in their
honour, energy and fidelity. He had
been placed over them by Captain
Haines, who entertained a high opin
ion of his bravery and capacity. IYr
kins took his men aside, and obtained
from them the most solemn pledge
that they would not suffer the prisoner
to influence them, in any manner, in
his behalf; to avoid which, they prom
ised to converse as little as possible
with him, upon the whole route to
Washington. The character of Burr,
tor making strong impressions in his
favour, upon the human mind, was well
known to Perkins.
M hen the prisoner fled from the
Natchez settlements, he assumed a dis
guise-dress. He was still attired iu it.
It consisted of coase pantaloons, made
ot homspun, of a copperas dye, and a
round-about, of inferior drab cloth,
while his hat was a flapping, wide
brimmed beaver, which had, in times
past, been white, uut now presented a
variety ot dingy colours. When the
guard was ready to depart, he mounted
the same elegant horse which he rode
when arrested. Ile bestrode him most
gracefully, flashed his largo dark eyes
upon the many bystanders, audibly
hade them farewell, and departed.!—
Perkins and his men were well provi
ded with large pistols, which they car
ried in holsters, while the two soldiers
had muskets. They left the Boat Yard,
a quarter of a mile from which the ter
rible massacre of Eort Mims after
wards occurred, and, pursuing the In
dian trail, encamped the first night in
the lower part of the present county of
Monroe. The only tent taken along
was pitched for Burr, and under it he
lay the first night, by large fires, which
threw a glare over the disural woods.
All night, his ears were saluted with
the tierce and disagreeable howling of
wolves. In the wilds of Alabama, in
a small tent, reposed this remarkable
man, surrounded by a guard, and with
out a solitary friend or congenial spirit.
He was a prisoner of the I nited States,
for whose liberties he had fought, and
an exile from New-York, whose sta-
tutes and institutions bore the impress
of his mind. Death had deprived him
of (iis accomplished wife, his only child
was on the distant coast of Carolina,
his professional pursuits were abandon
ed, his fortune swept from him, the
magnificent scheme of the conquest of
Mexico defeated, and he was harassed
from one end of the Union to the oth
er. All these things were, sufficient to
weigh down an ordinary being, and
hurry him to the grave, Burr, howev
er, was no common man. In the morn
ing he rose, with a cheerful face, and
fell into travelling order, along with
the taciturn and watchful persons who
had charge of him.
Although guarded with vigilance, he
was treated with respect and kindness,
and his few wants were gratified. The
trail, like all Indian highways, was nar
row, which required the guard to march
in single file, with Burr in the middle
of the line. The route lay about eight
miles south of the present city of
Montgomery, then an Indian town cal
led iSconchate.J Passing by the resi
sidence of “Old Milly,” who, as we
have seen, lived upon the creek in
Montgomery county, which still hears
her name, Perkins employed her hus
band, a mulatto, named Evans, to con
duct the guard across lane Creek, Cu
bahatehee and Calabee, all of which
they were forced to swim. It was a
perilous and fatiguing march, and, for
days, the rain descended, in chilling
torrents, upon these unsheltered horse
men, collecting in deep and rapid riv
ulets at every point. Hundreds of In
dians, too, thronged the trail, and the
j party might have been killed in one
! moment. But the fearless Perkins
j bore on his distinguished prisoner amid
angry elements and human foes. In
the journey through Alabama, the
guard always slept in the woods, near
[ swamps of reed, upon which the bel-
I led and hobbled horses fed during the
night. After breakfast, it was their
custom again to mount their horses
and march on, with a silence which
! was sometimes broken by a remark
; about the weather, the creeks or the
Indians. Buir sat firmly in the saddle,
was always on the alert, and was a
| most excellent rider. Although drench
i ed for hours with cold and clammy
i rain, and at night extended upon a thin
j pallet, on the bare ground, after hav
ing accomplished a ride of forty miles
each day, yet, in the whole distance to
Richmond, this remarkable man was
never heard to complain that he was
i sick, or even fatigued. At the Chatta
hoochie was a crossing-place, ow ned by
j an Indian named Marshall, where the
i effects of the expedition were carried
*Burr was not only popular with the ladies,
but the most prominent men in the South-West
favored his enterprise, as they had long been
■ anxious for the expulsion of ihe Spaniards.
tMany persons who saw Burr in Alabama,
j have told me that his eyes were peculiarly bril
liant, and, to use the comparison ot .Malone,
j “ they looked like stars.”
I tEconehate means Red Ground.