left to die. There were no vehicles on which to trans- |ed with it, is still recited by the descendants of the unport them, and it seemed impossible to get them along fortunate victim. After this pious labor was performed, over a rough and narrow trace, every where crossed by the weary march was resumed. The wound which fallen timber, and at many points covered with large had been inflicted upon Henry was in itself not dangeloose rocks; this difficulty seemed to baffle all the devi-rous. But the weather was excessively hot-there was ces of the commander and his comrades, and to fill them nothing that could be applied to it, to cleanse it, but cold with distress. At length, a simple contrivance was sug-water. Fatigue, want of proper sustenance, bodily and gested and adopted. Round pieces of timber were procured, which were flattened at the ends, that were to rest on the ground. These pieces were connected by broad flat slips that were inserted and extended from side to side. The poles were raised to the shoulders of the horse, and a blanket thrown over his back. Then a broad string, like a breast-band, was drawn round the breast of the animal. On these vehicles, resembling hand-barrows, these poor fellows were laid. One man led the horse carefully and slowly, and two others followed behind, occasionally lifting up these contrivances, and easing them over the bad places and rocky obstructions that lay in the way. It was impossible for the party to make more than ten miles a day. The distance from the Tennessee to Nashville was one hundred and thirty miles. On the march, the sufferings of those who had been shot were indescribable. On the fifth day, one of the men grew rapidly worse, and it was obvious that he must die, for the ball had penetrated the groin and could not be extracted. Orders were given that the whole party should halt and await the result of the struggle which the dying man was maintaining against the rapid approaches of death. His courage, however, was unshaken. When night set in, fires were kindled and the guard mounted. The sufferer beckoned to the commander to come near him. Having done so, he said that he could not live till morning; that he wished to say a few words to him, his old friend and companion in arms. He then requested the veteran, down whose weather-beaten cheek tears were stealing, to tell his wife that he had fought and fallen as became a brave soldier. To tell the same to his chidren, when they became old enough to understand, how, when and why he had given up his life in their defence, and that they must never lose any opportunity of avenging his blood. He further desired that the place where he might be buried should be carefully marked, so that when the savages were driven from the country, his bones might be collected, and laid along side of those of his elder brother, who had but a few months before likewise fallen heroically in a desperate encounter with the enemy. Finally, he wished to bid farewell to all who were present. They came around him, and clasped his feeble hand. Not a word was spoken, but all were melted into tears.

mental irritation, brought on him a slow and insidious fever which exhausted all his strength. No longer able to sit in his saddle, he was placed upon the vehicle which had been occupied by his dead companion. On the evening of the fourteenth day the party arrived within seven miles of the station. An early start was made in the morning, and at about four o'clock in the evening the caravan appeared on the top of the lofty hill that overlooked Nashville. The commander and the spy rode together in front, the latter carrying a slender hickory pole in his hand, with all the scalps that had been taken strung upon it. Some of the children who were near the gate first descried the returning party, and gave the word. All who were within instantly rushed out and gathered up close together, seeming to be afraid to advance and meet the fatal news which might be brought. That the late encounter had made widows of some and orphans of others, the train of wounded which followed in the rear, rendered almost certain. Behind all, came the five young squaws who had been taken prisoners, for the commander treated them with the greatest humanity, as it was one of his truisms that no brave man would ever lay his hand upon a woman in anger. At length there was a halt. The wife of the commander, as usual, was in front. When the veteran alighted, her oldest children being around her feet, she embraced him. But each of the wives of those who had been killed, cried out, "Great God! is my husband dead?" "Is he killed?" No replies were made. These women did not shed tears or shriek, but they set up the wild howl of maniacs-the result of utter despair. No one was yet prepared to give the stirring details of the recent battle. The wife of the commander first rallied and gave directions to have the widowed women taken away and placed in their cabins, whilst the friends of those who were lying on their litters were engaged in lifting them up in their blankets, and carrying them along slowly to their beds. But all were astonished and grieved at the spectral appearance of Henry. Only a little while before, he had gone forth to the battle broil, full of health and life and joy. His commander cherished for him a paternal attachment. His courage, energy, and noble bearing, had won the regards of all around him. The wife of the commander gave him her unceasing personal care. It was one of the many striking characteristics of She administered to him those simples that were at these early emigrants, that amidst the roughest scenes hand, and best calculated to abate and finally to remove and most appalling dangers, they were forever united his fever, and those tonics which could be procured in to one another by the most devoted affection. About the woods. She would not permit any one to wash an hour before day-light the patient expired. When and cleanse his wound, but performed this duty herself. the day dawned, the dead body was taken to a rocky Seeing that he was despondent-that there was somenook about fifty yards from the trace, and there laid. thing within him that weighed upon his heart-this The party gathered up the stones which were lying generous woman endeavored to revive his hopes by round on the surface of the ground, and erected a kind every appliance and suggestion within her power. of rude mausoleum on the top of which they placed After many weeks of suffering, Henry became perceppieces of fallen timber, in compliance with the dying tibly better. The five prisoners rode on their Indian man's request. This simple monument is known to ponies. They were dressed in the clothes that had this hour, and the melancholy history which is connect-been taken from the neighboring station. On their

first arrival no one noticed them. They sat on their | her skill, the whole of the population began to look horses with their heads bent down, nor did they dare upon her with a kind of superstitious reverence. to look up. At last the women suggested that Wherever she went they paid her a voluntary homage, some disposition should be made of these unfortu- as though she bore about her the wand of a charmer. nate beings, who they alleged must be worn out by All who were diseased, came to her, confidently expecttheir tedious march. Signs were made to them to ing relief. If she could not cure them, still she was dismount. Having done so, they were directed to pass often able, and always anxious to mitigate their sufferthe gate into the station, where they halted and stood ings. These employments diverted her attention in up in a cluster, their eyes directed to the earth and some degree, from her own misfortunes, and filled up their long coal-black hair floating over their shoulders. hours which would otherwise have been given to desThey did not appear to be dejected, but prepared, with pondency. the characteristic fortitude of the savage, for any fate, however disastrous, that might await them. The wife of the commander approached them-halted-viewed them intently, and walked several times round them. At last she exclaimed, "I suppose these poor creatures had nothing to do with murdering our people. We must do something for them, as they are, like ourselves, human!" A man who resided in the station, who spoke Cherokee, and who had been three years a prisoner in the nation, was then called up, who addressed the squaws in their native tongue. They appeared to be overwhelmed with surprise. After recovering a little, they threw up their eyes, their countenances beaming with joy. Without daring to make any reply to what was said, they obeyed a command that was given them to retire to a cabin where something was set for them to eat.

CHAPTER V.

Mrs. B. was taken to a town, distant about three miles from the place where the murder of her husband and his companions had been perpetrated. On her arrival all the inhabitants gathered around her. Many aged warriors and squaws came limping along with the crowd, who viewed her with intense and eager curiosity. They talked earnestly and incessantly with the chief, who held her as his prisoner, and who appeared to be giving to his audience copious details of the events of the recent capture. When he drew out his tomahawk, and exhibited with it the manner of the assault upon Col. B., and the young white men, the rest testified their gratification by loud shouts. Towards Mrs B. there were no manifestations of compassion in a single individual of this mass of savages.

Mrs. B. earnestly desired to revisit the boat, which she presumed might still be at the place where it had been captured. An application having been made through the squaw to the chief, permission was granted her to do so. Taking the oldest boy with her, she set out early one morning, and on her arrival at the river, found the vessel fastened to a large tree. The water had fallen, and had left her on the dry beach. The heat of the sun had warped the planks, that were green when they were put on, and already a general decay had commenced. Looking on this scene of the overwhelming calamity that had befallen herself and her family, Mrs. B. burst into tears, and delivered herself up to her sorrows.

Her poignant recollections of the past were suddenly awakened into new life and energy. Seating herself upon a log, she asked herself, "Shall I ever return to the enjoyments of civilized life? or am I doomed to spend the rest of my days amidst the haunts of the savage? What has become of my children? My daughter-my manly boy-my little girls? my numerous relatives and friends, whom I left behind me when I entered upon this hazardous and disastrous journey to these western wilds?" Engrossed by these gloomy thoughts Mrs. B. sat a long time, and unconsciously sobbed aloud in all the bitterness of her grief. At length, she summoned enough of courage to venture on board the boat, the upper deck of which she reached with great difficulty. Descending from it, she entered her own apartment. The plunderers had left one bed, three or four stools, and several smaller articles of little value, together with the few books which she had brought along with her. Amongst these was the large family Bible in which the ages of her children had been set down in the hand-writing of her husband. He had purchased it immediately after their marriage. At the sight of this well known volume the heart of Mrs. B. leaped with joy. Springing forward, and hastily seiz

When she had reached the hut of her master, she was given to understand that she must go out every day and hunt for such loose pieces of wood, as she might be able to carry upon her head or in her arms, and bringing it, she found that it was not materially injured. them to the hut to be used in cooking. This was nearly all that she was required to do. The two boys of the squaw accompanied her on these expeditions, and after awhile became so much attached to her that they could not be kept away from her. The caresses of Mrs. B. seemed to gratify both them and the mother. Towards the middle of the summer, many of the Indians fell sick with fever, and were utterly neglected by the rest. The humane feelings of Mrs. B. were aroused in behalf of the sufferers. Her residence in Carolina had made her familiar with the treatment of those inflammatory diseases that are common in south ern latitudes. She administered so successfully those simple remedies, which were found in the woods, that many who were ill recovered. Perceiving the effects of

The sudden and unexpected recovery of this precious record, was a subject of unspeakable gratification to one imbued with such deep religious feelings as this widowed woman. She bore it back with her to the town, and reperused its contents with increasing fondness and interest. She often declared, afterwards, that she read it so constantly during her protracted exile, that she committed every word of it to memory. She also stated, that it had continually strengthened her faithrevived her drooping spirits-reanimated her hopes, and fortified her patience. Mrs. B. did not take a last adieu of this frail barque without a pang. She had first entered it with a thousand anticipated pleasures. It had borne her over the placid stream with all her once prosperous, but now calamitous worldly fortunes. Like everything

Towards the close of this annual festival, all those | der-examining their rifles-picking their flints, and who were discontented with their wives, brought them running their bullets and buckshot. up to the chiefs, and delivered them over, declaring that A large party went out upon the hunt, and returned they could not find them in meat any longer. This quickly, loaded with game. It was manifest to Emily was equivalent to a dissolution of the marriage. The that an expedition into the white settlements was on squaws, in this condition, submitted without a murmur, foot. The thought that these savages might make and in many cases, were selected by other warriors as another successful incursion, and cut off many in the their wives. When the assembly was about to be dis- tragical manner in which her father had fallen, filled solved, the most venerable of the chiefs taking two dry her bosom with anxiety and distress. One evening a sticks and rubbing them together, till they became universal excitement prevailed amongst the population. ignited, kindled up a large fire, each householder taking All were gathered in the town square: the chiefs were with him to his home, however distant, a live chunk. equipped in their warlike costumes-their faces paintDuring the period of this celebration, all was gladness ed-their guns by their sides, and feathers in their turand hilarity. The passions of these savages were lulled bans. They sat in silence a long time. At last, about into rest, as if by enchantment. The depending hos- eight o'clock, all the warriors joined in a low murmurtilities with the whites were forgotten, as well as all ing kind of lament. But in a short time, their voices personal difficulties amongst themselves. Even the were pitched to a higher key, and they sung louder. children participated in the general joy. The good- The whole, rising suddenly, commenced dancing; they natured joke, so common with all the Indian tribes, moved along in a creeping attitude, as though they were was passed round by the veteran chiefs, whose approaching, in the dead of the night, the resting place vigorous muscles were often relaxed into a general of the white man-then they halted, as if they had laughter. fired-then they broke forth in violent screams and yellings-drew their tomahawks and scalping knivesthen advanced upon the foe, and represented the killing of the victims-the taking of their scalps-the groans and cries of the wounded—the seizing of the plunderand wound up with the loud shouts of victory! This scene, which Emily witnessed-lingering near it as she did, unobserved-aroused all her sympathies. Unconscious of its effects upon her at the moment, she found herself, at the close, suffused in tears; she imagined that she again saw the victorious chieftains slaying her father, and butchering his young companions. The next morning she saw this war party take the trace, and commence their journey; she watched it until it disappeared-then returned, to bewail in silence her hard and protracted separation from all she held dear upon earth.

Not long after this event, a warrior, whose exploits in the field had acquired for him a great name, was taken sick. He lived near the residence of Emily's master. During his protracted illness, she often went with her associate to see him. Neither his children nor his brother chiefs paid him much attention. He lay week after week, without uttering a single groan or complaint. At last he died. No one shed a tear or manifested any sorrow. But the warriors assembled, and held a short council. Towards night, several of the men came to the place where the body was lying. One of them set to work upon a piece of wood, which he soon fashioned into the form of a bow, and which he rendered as smooth and light as he judged necessary. To it he attached a long and strong sinew taken from a stag that had been killed, and the whole was made ready for use. The other men were engaged in making arrows out of slender pieces of cane, into the ends of which feathers were nicely inserted.

During the night, the wife of the deceased was earnestly employed in baking bread made of Indian meal. Three or four were digging the grave. Towards daylight, the moon shining brightly, the.dead body was borne to its last resting place. After being laid down, one of the party stepped forward, and placed the bow and arrows along side of the deceased-then he added a pipe-a parcel of tobacco-a shot pouch-buckskin leggins-a tomahawk and scalping knife-a light gourd, and a dozen loaves of the bread. The corpse was then hastily covered over-the family of the deceased looking on apparently with deep interest. Very soon the whole party returned to their homes in profound silence. When the corn became ripe and sufficiently dried, and the weather somewhat cool, Emily observed that the warriors were often assembled in their council house, and that others came from the adjacent towns. On more than one occasion, they were overheard debating angrily. Some who were called the Red-Sticks, were in favor of a further prosecution of the war, whilst others were for peace. The voices of the former, being mostly young men, prevailed. In a little while all seemed to be busily engaged. The more active were moving in different directions, gathering up their pow

CHAPTER VI.

Many weeks elapsed before Henry became conva. lescent. His recovery was retarded by incessant anxiety about the fate of Emily, whose absence increased the violence of that passion with which her worth and beauty had inspired him. There were no means by which he could hear from her, if living; or of her, if dead. At last he confided his secret to the wife of the commander, who was keenly alive to whatever concerned his interests and happiness. She consoled and amused him by all those attentions which charming woman pays so successfully to the despondent and afflicted.

Both the Indians and the settlers had become tired of the war. The fires that were continually kindled by the former around the humble dwellings of the latterthe murder of the men, and the capture of the women and their children-had made the whites anxious for peace. They knew, also, that there were crowds of persons in the Carolinas who wished to make their way to the new land of promise, and who were deterred from doing so by the numerous dangers that lay before them. A large emigration would soon render the present pos sessors of the Indian country invincible.

The more sagacious of the Indian chiefs perceived | far away, beyond those mountains, towards the rising that if hostilities were continued, they must at last be sun. There was then no war. The red man then exterminated. They, therefore, believed it to be better to save a portion of their lands for themselves and tribe, than to lose all. There were many, however, and especially the young and fiery warriors, who were vehemently opposed to these counsels. But at last it was agreed, that a prisoner who was held by the savages, should be sent with proposals for a reconciliation. After a delay of several months, it was stipulated that the representatives of the Cherokee tribe, and commissioners on the part of the United States, should meet at a point on the Holston, for the purpose of making a treaty. In order to provide against any possible danger, it was understood that the parties should appear on the ground without arms; and that if a pacification could not be effected, both were to return to their homes without molestation.

caught his fish, and killed his deer, and hoed his corn in peace. One day the white man came, and told my father that he and his people must give up their cabins and their springs, and go away. But they would not. And there was war. For a great many moons the ground soaked up the blood of the red and white men. At last there was peace. My father, and his people, and women and children, left the bones of their fathers far behind, and came on this side the mountains. When I grew up to be a warrior, the whites came again, and told my father that they wanted some more Indian country, for that they had become as thick as the leaves on the trees. Again we went to war, and my father and many of his people have been killed by your rifles. Now you want me to go away with my squaws and people and children. We have kindled fires around The commissioners arrived the evening before the day your cabins; we have buried our tomahawks in the of the appointed meeting. The next morning, the brains of your men, and have taken their scalps; we chiefs, being more than a hundred in number, made their have captured your women, and have done you a great appearance, accompanied by their interpreter. A rude deal of harm; but you have killed our bravest warriors; circular structure, made of stakes and poles, and cover- you are getting strong, and we weak: I will not speak ed over with bushes, had been hastily put up, for the with a forked tongue: my voice is for peace." Toaccommodation of the company. All were introduced wards the close of this speech, the countenance of the to the commissioners in a formal manner. The first orator became solemn and sad. As soon as he was seated, was the chief of the whole nation, the illustrious Tuske- a young man about eight and twenty arose. His eye nehaw. He bore his gigantic form proudly-looked was full of passion, which it seemed impossible for him intently at the white men around, and with all that set to repress. Several minutes elapsed before he could tled malice which he had inherited from his departed utter a word. At length he said, "My voice is for war. ancestors. It was evident that he was driven by a I have killed all the whites I could find. They came stern necessity to engage in the work before him, and and said they must have my mother's corn-field-she that he loved his people and his fame far better than was not troubling these white people, but was living in his life. The leading commissioner was a man of rare her own cabin, with me and the rest of her children. natural gifts, and perfectly acquainted with the Indian They said if she did not go, they would drive her character. He spoke to the soured and unrelenting away. Where was she to go, without bread or meat? chieftain, in a tone well calculated to soothe his wound- But they made her come to this far distant country, and ed pride, and dispose him to conciliation. After a while now we must go away again. I, and all the brave warhe agreed to smoke the pipe of peace. The rest of the riors of my town, will die and be buried alongside of warriors were amongst the stoutest and bravest of the their fathers. Those who are afraid, like squaws, will tribe. Some of them were scarred over with wounds; let the white man come and drive them off. My voice others were young, impetuous, and still anxious for the is for war." The orator was excited to fury. What he bloody strife of battle. The recent events which had said was followed by a long and low murmur of disapdeprived them of many of their daring comrades, were probation. The chiefs again retired, and were long enstill fresh in their recollection. The love of revenge gaged in council. The next day Tuskenehaw reported was only slumbering in their bosoms-not extinguished. that his red brothers were divided in opinion-that he The next morning the terms of a treaty were specifically had determimed to go home and consult all his people— announced. When they were perfectly understood by that he hoped they would agree to a treaty-that within Tuskenehaw, he said that they would be considered-four moons he would send runners and let the commisbat it was manifest that he looked on them with deep displeasure. They were those which the victor prescribes to the vanquished. All the Indians retired, walking slowly in single file, with their heads bent down, to a thick wood half a mile from the encampment. Here they continued in solemn council till deep in the night, when they kindled up their fires and lay down to rest. At about 10 o'clock the next day they returned, and very soon the negotiations were renewed. After some efforts were made to draw out a reply from Tuskenehaw, he rose; it seemed as if his bosom would burst, so tumultuous were the thoughts that were within. Subduing his emotions, and assuming all that self-collection which marks his race, he said, in substance, "When I was a boy, not much higher than my father's knee, I followed him in the hunt. He and his nation then lived

sioners know what he and his warriors would do.

The assembly being dissolved, Tuskenehaw and his party bid farewell, and set out on their return. The commissioners retired to one of the settlements, there to await the result of the deliberations of the chiefs and their people. In the meantime the news that peace might soon be made, flew through Virginia and the Carolinas with the speed of the wind. Hundreds of families conmenced preparations for a removal to the far west. As might have been expected, every heart at the Nashville and contiguous stations, was overjoyed at the rumor that a reconciliation would be effected between the hostile parties. They had poured out their blood like water in a long, desperate, and, often times, doubtful conflict. The veteran commander said that he was tired, and felt that he was growing old. He desired, for