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» [Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.]
I THE BEAUTIFUL PRINCEBB OF COFACHIQUI.
y BY L. VIRGINIA FREXCH.
>De Soto, on learning that there was a country
to the North East, abounding in gold, pursued his
\% route in that direction. He entered the territory of
]* Georgia, and, crossing successively the rivers of
that State, rested upon the banks of the Savan
-9 nah, immediately opposite the modem Silver
y Bluff, situated on the east bank of the river, in
/ Barnwell district, S. C. Here lived a beautiful
> young Indian Queen, whose realm embraced the
adjacent country to a vast extent She crossed
V the Savannah in state, and, after an interesting
interview with De Soto, invited him and his
o chi valric followers to partake of the hospitalities
of her capital. Many curious and interesting
J incidents of his sojourn here are related by the
"X historian, GarciUasso de la Vega, and a brief
y account may be found in Irving's Conquest of
Y> Florida.
9 Old minstrel-harp! with dreamy chime,
w - Strike thou in rude, and artless rhyme,
JT The glories of that olden time,
{ When Narvaez with his galleys came;
nj When Ponce de Leon's thirst for fame,
Y And dark De Soto’s heart of flame,
Vj Had bade them leave Castilian bowers,
) To seek for Fortune's golden showers,
® In this, our fabled “Land of Flowers.”
a How changed the scene! nor glen, nor rock,
J Shakes to the charging squadron's shock;
Y Where rolled the din of Indian war,
/ The hunter's bugle sounds afar;
\ Where loud the fearful war-whoop rang,
y The church-bell peals its mellow clang;
vj And later yet—when heroes braved
A tyrant King, and proudly waved
The “stars and stripes” o'er gallant dead,
o' When Marion fought, and Jasfee bled;
J Where poured the shot its deadly shower
Y Tall spires, and stately cities tower;
/ Where ponderous portals hoarsely jarred,
\ And sentries walked their sleepless ward,
* The dancer's light and twinkling feet
~ Keep time to music soft and sweet;
The pillared hall, the peaceful cot,
As Stand fair on many a storied spot
* Where raged the battle fray;
9 And where red fields were lost and won,
W (At evening’s close, their labor done,)
J The maid and matron, sire and son,
n And bright-haired children, many a one,
jf Have humbly knelt to pray!
H.
'Twas not of this I meant to tell;
But how one summerVmorn it fell,
Jv That bold De Soto's warriors brave
J Lay camped beside Savannah's wave.
Y The gray lark cradled on the cloud,
/ Poured down his carol long and loud,
"X O'erpowering all the singing rills;
ffl The mist from off the far blue hills,
In white and slumbrous shadow-folds,
Flowed droopingly away. Beholds
A The rising sun so fair a scene,
As greets him in that valley green ?
9 There 'neath the crimson-tinted skies
v The river's ripples sink and rise;
T Soft fallhighere in low cascade,
■v Coquetting there with light and shade,
m Yet holding still the glorious heaven,
Y And sending back the radiance given—
\> As some fair child of mortal birth,
V Won by seducing joys of earth,
Still makes her soul of heaven the shrine,
o And sheds an influence half-divine 1
J. ' Up from the waking camp rose high
f The bugle's note, and blood-hounds cry,
if Harness and armor’s ringing clank,
J, Echoed along.the river's bank;
f Shrilly the charger's sounding neigh
V) Blent with the hum of rising day,
Mailed cavalier, and Indian scout,
Mixed with the soldiers stern and stout,
o' While sunlight glanced o'er steel-clad breast,
/ Pennon, and shield and knightly crest,
Y And Spain's broad banner floating free,
/ In all the pomp of chivalry 1
Y With soft, sweet trilling of her waves,
V) Th’ opposing bank the river laves;
J In light it lay—its quivering shades,
w The dew-bright verdure of its glades,
« By balmy breezes, freshly fanned—
' Was this the dark-browed hunter's land ?
r* The shore is broken, bold, and there
' Thin smoke-wreaths on the crystal air
J. Show where a lovely Indian town,
y From bluff to river stretches down.
Lay on tho shore like banks of snow,
m Close sheltered by a verdant screen
o' Os tall palmetto groves between;
7 Magnolias dark, the Southron’s pride,
Y And giant live-oaks branching wide.
/ The snow-white lines extending far,
\ Yet broken and irregular,
3? Resembled more some martial camp
~ Close on the verge of verdant swamp,
Than towns the soldier’s heart retains
Towering on Andalusia's plains.
X As peering out the trees between,
Full soon a motley group was seen;
w An Indian guide adown the ledge
T Stept cautious to the water’s edge,
■\ And summoned them at once to send
Some herald, counsellor or friend
' With whom the “Spanish Chief” might speak,
V And message send to their Cazique.
» IV.
o' Soon parting from the village shore,
J A large canoe six warriors bore—
Y Soon touched its prow, th' opposing strand,
/ And light the strangers leaped to land.
~\ Mature of age appeared they all,
Yet lithe and sinewy, dark and tall,
' Each stalwart arm, I ween, could wield
Y The axe, and bow, in chase or field;
4* Firm in its gaze each falcon eye,
* And full of native dignity
9 Each mien, (to such, unconscious how,
The herd of common spirits bow;)
J Each dark brow bore a coronet
-s Os plumage of the paroquet,
jw Kude rings of gold each bosom graced,
r And from a girdle round each waist,
Y Peace-pipe and battle-axe were hung.
J Tho outer mantle round them flung,
« Was marten skin, and clasped with gold.
9 With stately step and bearing bold,
<, And ceremonial grave, yet brief,
JT They made due reverence to the “Chief;”
I One low obeisance to the sun,
J. One to the westering moon, and one
y To brave De Soto,—as they cease,
V) Demanding: “ Would*'l thou war or peace f"
Such quaint array and question free
■ft The younger gallants smiled to see;
o' But the bold chief, with ready grace,
J Repressed of ill-timed mirth the trace,
Y And met them with such courtesy
/ As meets the flower of chivalry,
\ Replying, as he grasped each hand—
w “Peace, and a passage thro’ your land I”
ms NRXSU VZSXdI MMM SXSSBXSS.
The messengers returned, to bear
His wishes to their Princess fair:
She heard the brief request—and soon
She bade that at the hour of noon,
Her barge of state should ready be,
And she this stranger chief would see.
'Twas noon—slow swept the barque from shore,
Twelve rowers grasped the painted oar,
And, flashing at each sturdy stroke,
The limpid wave in spray-beads broke:
Close pressing on, the swelling tide
Kissed the gay galley’s gleaming side,
Before her prow the eddies cnrlcd,
And in her wake the foam-globes whirled,
As bearing on, in splendors drest,
Like sun-cloud sailing up the West, a
So soft, so still the fairy boat
Thro’ seas of lustre seemed to float
And strangely beantifril was she
Beneath its crimson canopy,
(With broidery quaint, impearled and lined,)
On purple cushions half reclined.
On either side, three maidens stand.
Their task to woo the breezes bland.
Huge fans of painted plumes they swing,
And oft in glccsome chorus sing,
Whene'er it lists their princess take
Her evening sail on stream or lake :
But now each mellow voice was hushed.
Each cheek with expectation flushed—
Yet stay—the barque has touched the strand,
The lovely Queen prepares to land.
VI.
Maintaining still his knightly fame •
The “Chief’ to meet the Princess came,
Attended by a train of peers.
The choicest of his Cavaliers;
Then many a courteous phrase was said,
And many a compliment was paid,
As crossing to the water’s verge,
He led the ladye from her barge.
As up the glittering ranks they passed
ncr dark eyes on the ground were cast,
Then lifted with instinctive pride.
Why should they see her cheek was dyed
With burning blushes, or her mien
Less lofty—was she not a queen?
Brilliant and beautifril, and young,
Like to a beam from Eden flung
Lighting the wilderness, she shone,
Or one bright star in Heaven—alone.
Her low arched brow lay sweet and fair,
Half hid in coils of raven hair,
Os crimson flowers a coronet
Lay glowing ’mid those braids ofjet;
Sandaled her feet, her mantle's fold
(Like fabled huntress of the world.)
Was o’er one shoulder hung with care,
The other, dimpled, smooth and bare,
Was sweet as Dian’s own, and bore
Her polished bow and quivered store
Os reedy arrows. Pearl-bands graced
Her arms, her bosom, and her waist,
The gorgeous robe of changeful sheen,
The easy grace, the noble mien,—
Well might Castilian courtiers gaze.
And murmur low their deep amaze 1
VII.
On rustic throne the Leader sate,
The Princess took the chair of state
Which six of her attendants bore,
And placed upon that verdant floor;
Her maidens grouped around her chair,
And all the camp had gathered there—
Knight, squire, and page, and savage tree,
A mingled, “motley companic.”
Oft questioned then De Soto bold,
Where lay that famous “realm of Gold,”
Os rulers fierce, of warrior guard.
The way, the dangers, the reward;
Asked much anent the Queen's domain,
Her lofty line, her gentle reign,
And prayed her of her courtesic,
To grant him guides and passage free.
His speech and quest made known to her,
By Ortiz, the interpreter,
Were answered prompt and graciously,
And he her hospitality
Was prayed t’ accept until the day
Him listed journey on his way.
Her brow was calm, her eye was kind,
Fit index to her noble mind;
Her voice was musical and soft;
Such tones we hear at twilight oft,
When through the deep magnolia groves,
The spirit of the south wind roves.
Lopez, a courtly Cavalier,
Thus whispered in Ills comrade’s ear, —
“Didst ever dream, Gonsalvo, here
To find such face, such form, such mien.
All we can image of a queen ?
Sueh regal air might well comport
With graces learned at Leon’s court—
By'r lidy 1 at her shrine I’d kneel.
Treason though ’twere to our Castile!”
VIII.
The Princess lightly now unbound
A chain of pearls, which thrice around
Her graceful throat and bosom wound;
She wished, it seemed, the token bright,
To tender to tho noble knight;
A symbol of her friendship's plight—
And yet that modest bashfulness
Which veiled her beauty’s rich excess,
Soft, delicate as clouds that lie
Athwart the summer’s noontide sky,
Checked on her lip the words she fain
Had spoke herself. She blushed again,
Then, wMlc her large and liquid eye
Drooped its long fringe, reserved and shy,
To Ortiz quick she turned, to pray
Him give her gift, and say her say;
But Juan Ortiz, gallantly,
Declined, and on his bended knee,-
Declared the “ Governor ” would deem
The present valueless from him.
’Twas truth, he swore, its worth were none
Bestowed by hand save hers alone 1
The maiden mused—anon a smile
O'er her fuir features stole the while,
And wheresoe’er its lustre broke,
New beauties one by one awoke;
Then, with an air, subdued yet free,
And frill of maiden modesty,
She rose, advanced, and laid the band
Os jewels in De Soto’s hand,
And would have turned away—but he
A moment stayed her courteously.
Drawing a jewel richly chased
From off his hand, he gently placed
The circlet on her own—and sighed:
“ Faith, truth, and honor with thee bide!’’
IX.
By this the evening, sweetly slow,
Came stealing on—tho sun was low,
Bright clouds along the west had rolled
Their burnished splendors, fold on fold;
The vallies darker grew, the heights
Now caught, now lost the changing lights;
The river murmured on its way,
The red-bird hushed his cheerful lay—
Then haste! while yet the day-flres burn
The lovely Princess must return.
As the white sea-mew bows to lave
Her bosom in the sparkling wave,
Swift o’er the water's darkening blue
The snowy-sided shallop flew,
The intervening space shot o’er
And struck the margin with her prore.
Shades of the Past 1 the minstrel fain
Would tell how In this charmed domain
The chieftain and his followers staid.
Enchanted by this noble maid,
Delighted all to find such grace. *
So kind a heart, so fair a face,
In such a lonely dwelling-place.
It may not be—they parted all
From Cofachiqui's royal hall,
Not, sooth to say, as lover parts,
Yet, leaving with a thousand sighs,
The load-star of a thousand hearts 1
The cynosure of thousand eyes!
In after years the maden queen
Still reigned beloved, with brow serene.
And, tho’ brave suitors sought her side.
No dark-browed warrior, called her bride.
At times, 'twas said, a shade was drawn
(Like dewy clouds, about the dawn.)
Across her beauty's light, ah! well.
The why the minstrel may not tell!
Forest Home.
■ +
[Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.]
808 MARK'S SUNDAY AFTERNOON'S DRIVE.
OR
TIIE STRANGER AT OLD ELLISON’S.
BY NOM DE PLUME.
The town of Greensboro' in Georgia, ''days
long syne" boasted superior attractions, many of
which it retains to this daj*! It was, at the period
of which we write, surrounded by ricli cotton
fields, being in what was termed the “ black belt"
of our State, and was noted for its wealth, the
beauty and accomplishments of its daughters,
as well as the intelligence and gallantry of its
sons. Besides, it was a town of much political
importance, as well as of elegant society—num
bering among its inhabitants many an eminent
man in each of the learned professions, upon
more than one of whom, then and since, the
highest honors of the State have been conferred.
It was the residence, too, of one who in his time
was distinguished as the leader of the great
“Crawford Party," when that party was press
ing the claims of William H. Crawford for the
Presidency, in opposition to Jackson', Clay, and
the younger Adams. We allude to tho Hon.
Thomas Cobb, who represented, so ably, Georgia,
in the Senate of the United States, and whose
fame as a statesman was not limited to his see
vion, but was national. In truth, Greensboro'
was then the “ Head Quarters" in Georgia for
Politics, Law, Literature, Religion and Fashion.
Though not embracing so large a population as
Augusta, nor a tith scarcely of its commerce,
still the influence of its leading men was far
more potent than that of any other city or town
in the State, and was felt even in the legisla
ture thereof for many years; while the young
men of that Boro' were far advanced over other
sections of Georgia in the fashions, and we re
gret to add, in the follies of the times. Greens
boro’ was indeed a town of importance then,
and if eclipsed since in other sections of the
State, to the power of the steam-engine and an
extended territory must be attributed the de
cline of the supremacy.
It was a delightful Sunday afternon in the
month of May, in the year 182—, when two
elegantly dressed young men in “ seer sucker"
pants, white vests, and “ pigeon-tailed" blue cloth
coats with enormous brass buttons, (the fasliion
of the times) might have been observed opposite
the hotel in Greensboro ,’ discoursing on the mode
of passing away time that hung laggard ou their
hands, and we may add, feet also. Tiie first, to
whom we shall apply no name, proposed that
they should both attend divine service at the
church of old “ Doctor Camming," then the most
fashionable place of worship in that goodly town;
but the other, who is the hero of our story, and
to whom we shall give the fictitious appellation
of “ Robert J larr," while professing the highest
respect for that reverend Doctor’s eloquence and
orthodoxy, upon some trivial excuso declined
the repast for his soul to which lie was invited
by his friend. The truth is, “Marr" had only a
few days before became possessed of a fine horse,
and also of a “chaise," then a most fashionable
vehicle, but long since, save in remote regions,
gone out of use. The horse was a good 5:40
nag in harness; while the chaise was new, richly
ornamented and painted, the red predominating
over all other colors. After some little hesita
tion, a ride into tho country was proposed by
“Marr,” which being agreed to by his friend,
“ Sir Archy" was harnessed up just in time to
leave town, as its fair belles were “tripping it”
to church, and with a mental reservation on the
part of “Marr” that the drive should be extend
ed no longer than the hour at which church de
votions should cease—when the same fair de
moiselles, as a matter of course, would be re
turning, piously inclined no doubt, to their homes.
In this mode of procedure ‘'Marr’’ designed to
accomplish three things. First, to enjoy the
drive; second, to get a sight of the girls, going to,
and returning from church; and third, to dis
play to them his fine equipage, fine driving, and
elegantly dressed person. So it was agreed,
and just as the bell chimed the church-hour,
away sped “ Sir Archy" with our friends through
all the principal streets of the town, and, as it
ceased, away sped “Sir Archy" into the country.
We have said that it was a delightful afternoon
in May, and so it was when our hero started on his
drive; and so it continued to be until he had
reached a distance of some three miles from
town; but, behind, was a storm—one of those
terrific thunder storms so sudden in the South—
so rapid in their approach, as well as departure.
It came, therefore, upon our gay young gentle
men, without scarcely a note of warning. To
return was impossible; to push on to “Old, Elli
son's," somo mile or so ahead, was all that was
left them to avoid not only a severe drenching,
but tho danger attendant upon the falling limbs
of trees, and of falling trees themselves. The
whip was applied to “Sir Archy," who, poor
fellow, it is said, made his mile then a few se
conds within 5:40, reaching the point of safety
just in time to avoid the full fury of the storm.
And who was “Old Ellison,” at whoso house
“Marr” and his friend took refuge ? He was,
reader, an honest, independent, worthy old far
mer, who, all his life, attended to his own busi
ness, and let that of his neighbors alone. He
had moved when young, from “Old South Caro
lina” to Georgia, and had many years before the
opening of our story, settled in Greene county,
near to Greensboro, and was content to pursue
the occupation of a farmer, in which pursuit he
thrived. Kindly in his nature, hospitable and
charitable, just in all his dealings with his fel
low-man, “Old Ellison” was respected in all the
country round about, and would have been pop
ular, but for the fact of his hostility to the “Craw
ford Party," which was as decided as hostility
could well be, and from which he could neither
be persuaded nor driven. His neighbors all be
ing tho other way, and politics running very
high, “Old Ellison” was very little troubled with
company, and but for the storm, our two friends
would as soon have thought of putting their feet
into the fire, as into the good old farmer’s house.
There was, however, a necessity as we have
shown, and into it they went, consigning “Sir
Archy" and the chaise to the attention of a
servant.
But the quiet of “Old Ellison’s” house had pre-
viously and recently been disturbed. The even
ing preceding the adventure of “Marr” to which
we have referred in the foregoing, a traveler at
tended by his servant, both mounted upon fine
looking horses, rode up to the front of the house
and asked of its owner accommodation for the
night. Although clad in homespun and negli
gently attired, there was something in the ap
pearance of the stranger singularly attractive
and commanding. He seemed to be some fifty
five, or sixty years of age; was tall, erect in his
deportment, and active in his movements. The
invitation to alight was promptly spoken by
“Old Ellison,” and it was not long ere the trav
eler and mine host were upon the most familiar
and gracious terms. It was strange, but true,
that never before in years did “Old Ellison” ap
pear so cheerful and happy as he did in the en
tertainment of his guest. Why, the reader
will learn ere the conclusion of our story.
The following afternoon brought the storm
to which we have adverted, and with it “Marr”
and his friend. While “Sir Archy” and the bril
liant equipage of our hero were being cared for
out of doors, the two friends entered the house
and took seats. Near to one side of the chim
ney sat our traveller of the preceding evening,
quietly smoking his pipe. A glance at his home
spun apparel was all that “Marr,” upon his en
trance, bestowed upon the stranger; and, in re
ply to the latter’s courteous salute and congrat
ulations at their having escaped the fury of the
storm, our hero was more supercilious than po
lite. Be it remembered that “Marr” was in his
Sunday suit; that he was from, and of Greensbo
ro', and that the stranger before him was nothing
more than a plain, old fashioned-looking country
man, who, perhaps, had never seen before a
“ pigeon-tailed blue," or a pair of “seer sucker"
pants.
For a while there was silence ; but this could
not last long. If vain of his attire and accom
plishments, “Marr” was rather social than other
wise ; was possessed of a lively disposition, and
loved to talk. His faults were only those of
young men of a certain age, when dress and the
belle of the village monopolise a large share of
their time, and politics the balance. Situated as
our hero now was, his fashionable attire might
as well have been in his trunk, as there was no
“fair one” present to admire it; but to quietly
sit in silence, awaiting the passing away of tho
storm, was repugnant to his nature. Ho was,
for a time, in a perfect fidget, and must talk. —
Turning, therefore, to the stranger with a de
cidedly patronising air, he enquired :
“From whence come you, stranger ?”
“From Tennessee, my young friend,” was the
quiet reply.
“ Tennessee /’’exclaimed “Marr,” “then I pre
sume you have seen, and, may be, know Old
Jackson ?”
“ I have seen, and do know him,” replied the
stranger.
“Well, it is said,” responded our hero, “that
Crawford will beat the old fellow in Tennessee,
in the coming election for President; what do
you think of it, old gentleman ?”
“I should think not,” replied the stranger. —
“Though Mr. Crawford has many admirers, and
warm political friends in Tennessee, yet my in
formation is that he cannot get the vote of that
State.”
“ Then who the d 1 will, if such a man as
Crawford can’t get the vote of Tennessee?”
vehemently exclaimed our hero of the “pigeon
tailed blue."
“Why," responded the stranger, “there is
Clay who has as large a party in Tennessee, as
your favorite, Mr. Crawford has; then Adams
is as strong there as either of those two; but I
do not think Crawford, Clay, or Adams can
carry Tennessee—at least, I must frankly say,
I hope not.”
“ Then, who will,” again queried “Marrwho
will, if Crawford, the first statesman in the
Union, don’t?”
“ Since you press the question, my young
friend, I will answer you. My opinion is that
Tennessee will cast her vote for Andrew Jack
son,” was the calm response of the stranger.
“ Je-ho-so-phat /” said our hero, “Andrew
Jackson, that blood-thirsty old tyrant 1 Ten
nessee vote for him ? Why, old gentleman, you
must be mistaken! General Jackson is no
statesman t"
“That may be true,” replied the stranger;
“ but I trust he is a patriot, and if the people
elect him President, I am certain, and I think
Tennessee thinks so too, that he will stand firmly
and honestly by their interests, and will do
naught to stay the progress of tho country.
Others may think differently. It is their right,
let them exercise it!”
“ But, old gentleman,” again put in “Marr,”
“the country will be ruined, should Old Jackson
be elected. Everybody knows that but for the
battle of New Orleans, he never would have
been thought of for the Presidency.”
“Your last remark may be true, young man,”
replied the stranger; “and yet, incidents far
less important in their results to the country
than the battle of New Orleans, have caused
more than one of our-public men to be jpoken
of in connection with the Presidency.”
“My dear sir," (said our hero, who began to
grow warm and eloquent,) ‘it is the opinion of
our first military men, that Jackson is entitled
to no credit for the victory at New Orleans. —
Many of them say that he committed great
blunders in preparing for, and in fighting that
battle.”
“ Will yon be pleased,” said the stranger, “to
name one of those 'first military men' to whom
you have just now referred ?”
“Well, I can’t do so just now,” said “Marr,”
hesitatingly; “in fact, I get my information from
my friend Cobb — Senator Cobb, whom, I pre
sume, as you are from Tennessee, you don’t
know —who is posted up in all such matters,
and who, in Washington City, has conversed
with officers in the regular army; none of your
militia men. Cobb says the battle of New Or
leans, as it is called, was no battle at all—that
it was simply the ‘storming of an entrenchment’
of British troops, who were repulsed in the at
tempt—nothing more.”
“And did not,” asked the stranger, “the brave
Americans who so gallantly repulsed the British
in that assault, deserve credit for their valor, if
Jackson did not?”
“Oh! of course the Americans fought bravely,
but I have been told that Jackson committed a
great many blunders, and came very near losing
the fight,” said “Marr” with renewed confidence.
“Who told you that f" was the prompt enquiry.
“Well, I believe,” said our hero, “it was
Cobb —yes, it was Cobb !"
“Why, my young man,” said the stronger,
“your friend Cobb appears to be your authority
in all things. He should be more careful in im
parting knowledge to you.”
“Oh! yes! Cobb is high authority,” said M.
“He is the greatest man in Georgia, and will be
President himself some of these days. It was
only the other day I heard him say that Jackson’s
temper, aside from his defective education, was
an insurmountable objection to him in his can
didacy for the Presidency.”
“It is an objection,” said the stranger, “and I
think no one will admit this more freely than
Jackson himself; but I trust it is not an insur
mountable one.”
•‘Yes it is, though,” said M. -‘The old fellow
is a perfect tyrant, sir. When he gets in one
of his ways, he is not to be controlled. His best
friends dare not go near him. He would murder
them if they dared to approach him.”
The stranger, smiling, asked: “Who gave you
this description, or character, of Jackson, my
son?”
“Why, Cobb,'' said M. “He knows him well.
Saw him at Washington when he went to beg
the Senate to release him from the fine imposed
upon him by Judge Hall, for not submitting to
the civil authorities ”
Our hero had no time to finish his speech.
He had got as far as the words “ beg the Senate"
when the hitherto calm and self-possessed
stranger suddenly rose from his seat—with con
tracted brow, the hair of his head on end, and
with a voice almost equal to the thunder that
had a short time before been pealing above, he
exclaimed, advancing with outstretched arms to
ward our hero, “And that too. young man, you
got from Cobb, I suppose! By the Eternal!"
But our hero heard no more. The voice, the
attitude, the height, the indignant bearing of
the whole man, so terrified him, that he involun
tarily backed to the door to make good his
escape. Here, however, he was intercepted by
"Old Ellison," who added greatly to his fright,
by saying "Bobby, Bobby, my son, that is
General Jackson himself, whom you have been
abusing so much!”
Out of the door and to the stable hastened
our hero, followed by his friend, who was no
less terrified at the awful anger of the stranger
than was “Marr” himself. The storm, fortunate
ly, had passed away. “Sir Archy” was soon
harnessed to the chaise, and fast as was his time
to "Old EUison's," when the storm was behind
him, it could not compare with that made, as he
streaked it back to town. Arrived there, almost
the first individual whom our hero met, was
Cobb himself. To him was communicated the
intelligence of General Jackson’s being at “ Old
Ellison’s," and such portions of his adventure
there as our hero at first chose to relate. Cobb,
however, soon drew out the whole of it, through
the friend who was present, and the subsequent
reluctant confessions of our hero. Those of that
gentlemen’s friends who are now in the land of
the living, and who remember “his keen relish
for a joke,” will not be surprised when they
read that upon a door-step which was near at
hand, he sank convulsed with laughter at the
strange incidents of that Sabbath afternoon, the
presumption and terror of our hero.
In a few hours, Greensboro' was alive with the
intelligence of General Jackson’s arrival in the
neighborhood. Early on the following morning,
a “Committee of Citizens” waited upon the “Hero
of New Orleans,” and invited him to partake of
the hospitalities of Greensboro,' which invitation
was graciously accepted.
On the next day Greensboro' was crowded as
it has never been since, nor ever was before.
In the “Old Court House,” which was graced
with the presence of the “fair of all the country
round,” and with the intelligent and patriotic
men of “Old Greene,” the General received as
hearty a welcome as was ever bestowed upon
him during his eventful life. All were Jackson
men on that occasion. For one day, at least, the
name of Crawford was hushed in a town where
it had been upon every tongue for months be
fore. It was a merry day, indeed, in Greensbo
ro ! But one among all that gathering of women
and of men, wore a shadow upon his face. Need
we write that that one was the “hero of the
drive ?” From early morn till near meridian, he
cautiously avoided the eye of the stem old mili
tary chieftain. He could not forget many of his
unfortunate phrases—“ Old Tyrant“ Storming
an Entrenchment;” “Cobb said this ; and, Cobb
said that I” But with all his caution to avoid
the eye ®f “Old Hickory,” it seemed he was fated
to stand once more in his dreaded presence.—
When they did meet, there was no anger, but a
merry twinkle in the eyes of the “Old General.”
Taking our hero kindly by the hand, he whis
pered in his ear: “My young friend, whenever
in after life, you would speak disparagingly of
any one, be careful that you know to whom you
address yourself.” We can aver that our hero
has profited by this advice. Jackson has gone
to his home in the land of spirits, but our hero
still lives to tell this story, as none but him can
tell it, respected by all know him.
“Old Ellison” was of the family of that name
in which Jackson passed many years of his
boyhood. The General, as is well known,
was passionately fond of a good horse. He, at
the period referred to, was on his way to pro
cure one of fine blood from a gentleman in Han
cock county, and had determined to rest by the
way, at the house of one who had been a com
panion of his youth. Hence his presence at
“ Old Ellison’s” house. Andrew Jackson
NEVER FORGOT HIS FRIENDS !
Griffin, Georgia.
Sea Worms. —Admiral Dupetit-Thouars has
sent in to the French Academy of Sciences some
extraordinary specimens of tlie destructive pow
er of certain sea worms, consisting of fragments
of vessels, which have been sent here from
Toulon. Ho also sent in a glass globe a collec
tion of those animalcule, almost invisible at
their birth, which have the power of penetrating
into the hardest timber, in which they take up
their residence, and in the end totally destroy
it These specimens are to be deposited at the
Jardin des Plantes. They are perforated with
almost mathematical precision, and the question
which naturally arises is how vessels can be
defended against the incessant attacks of these
almost invisible enemies.
M
During the quarter which closed on the 31st
of March last, the openers of dead letters in the
General Post Office found 2,1-86, which con
tained an aggregate of $10,292. For the quar
ter ending 31st December, the number of letters
were 2,745, with $12,035 ; quarter ending 30th
September, 2,729 letters, covering $12,921 ; and
quarter which closed 30th June last, 4,549 let
ters, with $21,498. Total for the year, 12,209
letters and $56,678. Through the prompt and
systematic arrangements of the office, nine-tenths
of the letters, with a still greater proportion of
the money, have been promptly and safely re
stored to their rightful owners.
_ ——- w
Tonnage of niE World. —An English paper
says •• “At present it may interest our readers to
know the extent of the merchant marine, from
which may be estimated the real maritime pow
er. The tonnage of the world is about fifteen
millions —the United States being first, United
Kingdom second, France third, and British colo
nies fourth; but if we take great Britain and
her Colonies together, they amount to a trifle over •
that of the great Republic. This is a sad change
from 1813, when all the European ports were
blockaded by us, not an enemy’s ship appearing
on the ocean, except those of our cousins, with
whom, as well as the great Napoleon, we were
then at wa r.
91