two sentinels stationed to guard us. In this painful state we remained all day; when towards evening another company of warriors arrived, and then vigorous preparations were made for burning us. A stake was planted in the ground, and painted a variety of fantastic colors; the brush was piled around it at a proper distance; and every other necessary arrangement made; while we sat looking on, subject to the continual epithets of an old squaw, whose most consoling remarks were: "How will white man like to eat fire," and then she would break into a screeching laugh, which sounded perfectly hideous. A cold chill pervaded my frame as I gazed upon these ominous signs of death; but how often is our misery but the prelude of joy. At the moment that these horrid preparations were finished, a bright flash of lightning shattered a tall hickory, near by; and then the earth was deluged with rain. The Indians sought the shelter, but left us beneath the fury of the storm, where we remained for several hours; but seeing that it increased rather than diminished, they forced us into a small log hut and leaving a man to guard us, bolted the door firmly and left us for the night. What were our reflections when left alone? Your imagination must supply an answer. But we did not entirely gave way to despondency. We were young and robust, and our spirits were not easily subdued. Instead of becoming disheartened our approaching fate emboldened us, and by looks, whose expression made known our minds to each other,
we resolved to effect our escape or be slain in striving for it. Anything was preferable to the fiery torture which awaited us. Our guard proved just the man we wanted, for, having during the evening indulged rather freely in drinking whiskey, he soon sank into a profound slumber. Long and anxiously had we watched the man, and now our wishes were consummated. I contrived with much exertion to draw my knife from my pocket, and commenced sawing at the tough thong which confined my wrist. My heart beat high with joy, and already we felt that we were free, when the guard sneezed, opened his eyes, rolled them round the room, and discovered that he had been asleep. I slipped the knife into my pocket without his notice, and he discovered nothing to rouse his suspicions, although he regarded us closely for a long time. He finally sat down, lit his pipe and commenced smoking. After puffing away for half an hour, which seemed to drag by with the tediousness of a week, he laid his tomahawk (which contains the pipe) by his side, and after nodding for some time he again stretched himself upon the rough floor, and soon his deep snoring fell upon our ears. O! what music was that sound to us. I again drew the knife from my pocket, and with desperation freed my hands, and in one minute more Ralph stood like myself a free man. With the stealthy tread of a cat we reached the door, softly slid back the bolt, and once more we stood in the open
air. The rain had ceased, the clouds had swept by, and the full moon pale and high in the heavens threw her light upon the tree tops, bathing them in liquid silver. Silently but rapidly we bounded through the forest, our fears of pursuit urging us onward; and by daylight were within twelve miles of the log cabin whose history I am telling. At that time there dwelt in that cabin, with his family, a trapper by the name of Daniel Roe. When we reached there we found Roe at home, to whom we recounted our adventure. He only laughed at our fears that the Indians might track us thus far, and we finally listened to his laughing remarks and concluded to rest in his cabin for several days. We heaped folly upon folly; for instead of putting the house in a state of defence, and preserving as much silence as possible we commenced trying our skill by shooting at a mark. We continued this exercise through the afternoon, partook of a hearty supper, chatted till bed-time, and then retired. Ralph soon fell sound asleep, but I could not; I felt a presentiment of approaching danger; still there was no visible signs of it, yet I could not shake off a peculiar nervousness which agitated me. I lay still for some time listening to the deep and regular breathing of Ralph, and ever and anon as an owl screamed I would start, despite the familiarity of the cry. Just as I turned in my bed, and was trying to compose myself for sleep, I heard a cry very similar to the hoot of an owl; still there was something about the sound which did not sound right. My
heart commenced beating rapidly and a sweat started from my brow. I rose softly and looked through the chinks of the logs, but there was nothing to be seen. I listened attentively for at least an hour; but heard no sound to confirm my fears; and finally ashamed of my own nervousness, I could not call it cowardice, I slipped into bed, determined to sleep if possible. But soon I heard that same sound on the still air. I rose, dressed myself, but still I could see no form like that of an Indian. Just as I was on the point of abandoning my fears as idle and childish, I cast my eyes through an aperture between the logs; and saw the dusky forms of several Indians moving about the yard. I sprang to the bedside, and awoke Ralph, and in a few moments more, Roe, Ralph, and myself, stood with ready guns, waiting for a chance to shoot. A shot passing through one of the savages, told the rest they were discovered; and now a regular firing began. The Indians simultaneously uttered a fiendish shout, such as no person can imagine who has not heard the Indian war-scream; and then brandishing their tomahawks rushed upon the house and began hewing at the door. In a moment we were all down stairs, and our fire became so fatal that they were forced to retire several times; but with desperate courage they returned to the attack. I never experienced the feeling of utter despair but once in my life; and that was then. Roe came running down stairs (whither he had gone for more ammunition) and with a face white
from terror, informed us that the ammunition was expended. Here we were, surrounded by a host of savages, fastened in a small house, with nothing to defend ourselves, and the helpless women and children under the roof. 'Let us open the door, and decide the contest hand to hand,' said Ralph Watts. 'O! my family, my wife and children,' groaned Daniel Roe, 'let us defend the house to the last.' And with nerves strung like iron, and hearts swelled to desperation, we waited in silence for the savages to hew their way through the door. The work was soon over, the savages uttered one deafening yell as the door gave way; and clubbing our guns we wielded them with giant energy. The dark forms of the savages crowded the door-way, their eyes glared madly at us, and their painted features working into a hundred malignant and fiendish expressions, which, together with their horrid yells, and the more heart-rending cries of women and children, all formed a scene of the most harrowing description. The battle was soon over. By some mishap I was hurled head foremost out the door; but so intent were the savages upon the battle within, that they did not once notice me, as they rushed forward to the scene of action. Seeing that all was lost, and that to remain would only be throwing away my life uselessly, I sprang to my feet and slipping around the corner of the house I made my way over the old fortification[B] and soon left the noise far behind me. Much
has been written and said of grief, but how little do we know of its poignant nature, till we suffer the loss of some dear friend. 'Tis when we behold an object of deep affection lying passive and dead—but a thing of clay unconscious of the pain it gives, that we feel that sorrow, which language is too feeble to express. I found it so, when upon returning to the cabin a few hours afterward, I found the dead bodies of all my friends mutilated and weltering in their blood. Around the body of poor Ralph lay six Indians, with their skulls beat in; his gun furnishing evidence, by its mutilated state, of the force with which he had used it. My story is soon finished. As the tears streamed from my eyes, I dug a grave where I deposited the remains of my friends, and after placing a large stone above their resting place, I departed, wishing never to return to the spot again, and I never have."
[B] Near the spot where the cabin stands are the remains of immense works, but by whom and when built will forever remain hidden.
HAZEL-BROOK FARM.
Robert Ainslie, with his family, emigrated from Scotland about the year of 1843, and settled upon a new farm in the backwoods, in the township of R. in Eastern Canada. I can say but little regarding his early life, but have been informed that he was the eldest of quite a large family of sons and daughters; and also that he was a dutiful son as well as a kind and affectionate brother. It seems that he married quite early in life, and at that period he tended a small farm adjoining the one occupied by his father. The utmost harmony existed between the two families, and they lived in the daily interchange of those little offices of love and kindness which render friends so dear to each other. Several years glided by in this happy manner, but reverses at length came; and Robert formed the plan of emigrating to America. But when he saw how much his parents were grieved by the thought of his seeking a home on the other side of the Atlantic, he forbore to talk farther of the matter, and decided to remain at home for another year at least. That year,