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FLUIDS IN MINERALS. THERE are some facts which now and then fall beneath the notice of the natural philosopher, the contemplation of which lead him to important truths, while the unobservant pass them by as too trifling for serious consideration. Who has not, in his amateur geological rambles, broken open, secundum artem, a round lump of agate, and discovered within clusters of brilliant crystals of the most resplendent character? How came they there? may have been a question of a moment's interest in his mind; but the apparent hopelessness of the inquiry causes it soon to be given up in despair, and it is no more thought of. One on the search for truth, however, is not thus easily satisfied; and to the labours of such inquirers we owe what is now known upon the curious subject, the existence of fluids in minerals, and even in precious stones.
It is a familiar fact to the geologist that topazes, rockcrystals, and fluor-spar often contain cavities which are either partially, or more or less completely, filled with a fluid body. The researches of modern investigators have greatly extended the list, and cavities of this description | have been found in a vast number of crystalline substances. There may be said to be three classes of such cavities: first, cavities containing a fluid and a gas; secondly, those containing a fluid and a vacuum; and, lastly, such as are quite full of fluid. One or other of such cavities have been found in a large number of substances, out of which we select the following as the most striking examples. It has been mentioned as a curious fact that rock-crystal is often found in cavities of Carrara marble; on one occasion such a cavity was broken into, and a large quantity, about a pound and a half, of an acid fluid was discovered within. Rock-crystal itself very frequently abounds with cavities which contain fluid. In many cases the fluid appears to be only water, but in some it has been found to be a mineral oil, often differently coloured, black, dark yellow, or even orange-red. When some of the crystals are cut so as to be capable of microscopic examination, the cavities in them have the most singular appearance, giving the crystal a spotted aspect of the oddest kind. Crystals of gypsum or sulphate of lime also frequently present a still more curious aspect on the microscopic field, and the cavities assume the most grotesque and fantastic forms, out of which a warm imagination might, without difficulty, construct portraits of heads, legs, hands, &c. Rock-salt is also found abounding in such or similar cavities with fluid in them; but, in this instance, their form is one of greater beauty, being generally some regular mathematical figure of just proportions-an accurate cube, or octohedron-and full of fluid. Some years ago a singular discovery, connected with this subject, was made accidentally by some American workmen. A mill was being constructed, to supply which with water it was necessary to excavate for some distance through a sandy waste. In performing this work the labourers discovered a number of stone balls, like bombshells in appearance; some were as large as a man's head, and some even eight or nine inches in diameter. They had a dark rusty appearance outside; when broken open they were found to be mere shells of inconsiderable thickness full of fluid. The capacity of several was about two quarts; the fluid was white in colour, like white paint, and in fact was very speedily put to a similar use, for it was collected and used to whitewash several cottages in the vicinity. Unfortunately no examination of its nature was made, as no chemist existed in the neighbourhood. A somewhat analogous discovery was also accidentally made by an observer who was breaking up the stones of a vessel's ballast, arrived from Quebec, in the hope of meeting with some good crystals. A pebble of hornstone was broken into, and inside it was found a milky fluid, somewhat like a mixture of water and magnesia. It very rapidly evaporated, and there only remained behind a white, spongy mass of silex, in minute prismatic crystals, which scratched glass with great ease. In this case there can be no doubt that the fluid was a solution of silex; but the nature of the
solvent agent is buried in mystery. In topazes the cavities are sometimes most curiously arranged so as strongly to resemble the appearance of an eastern manuscript. In many other precious stones, such as amethyst, beryl, pexidot, sapphires, and emeralds, the flaws, which detract from the value of the jewel, indicate the situation of these fluid cavities. In some instances the form of the cavities is still more extraordinary, and cannot be explained on any known principles. Specimens have been found, in which was the appearance of a most elegant turned sceptre, every part being in due proportion, and the whole of most exquisite taste. Now and then there are irregular branched cavities, like mimic lakes, rivers, creeks, and seas; and in one instance, recorded by Sir D. Brewster, the resemblance to a delicately curled lock of infant's hair is perfect. Cavities of a somewhat similar kind can be produced artifi cially in crystals formed from an aqueous solution of the crystallising substance; and similar appearances are noticed frequently in ice crystals, which often contain a portion of unfrozen water in the centre.
Sir Humphrey Davy appears to have been the first chemical philosopher who attempted to investigate the subject of the nature of the fluid contained in these mineral substances. The motive which induced him to undertake the inquiry was to endeavour to set at rest the contentions between the two opposing armies among geologists-the Vulcanists and the Neptunists, or those who ascribed the origin of crystalline rocks to the agency of fire, and those who attributed it to crystallisation from water. Sir H. Davy says I have often, in the course of my chemical researches, looked for facts or experiments which might throw some light on this interesting subject, but without success, until about three years ago, when, in considering the state of fluid and aeriform matters included in certain crystals, it appeared to me that these curious phenomena might be examined in a manner to afford some important arguments as to the cause of the formation of the crystal.' The great difficulty of the examination would probably have deterred any other man from the investigation. The cavities are very rarely large enough to be clearly discerned by the unaided vision, and eveu then there is the obstacle of the hard walls of the gem between the fluid and the operator. But the distinguished President of the Royal Society was not to be daunted by such obstacles as these, and he contrived a most ingenious way of getting at the fluid, and ascertaining the vacuous condition or otherwise of its cavity. Holes were drilled under water or mercury into the crystals to be examined, and very fine capillary tubes were introduced, by which means the fluid was extracted. In the cases examined by this philosopher, in every instance but one, the fluid was found to be pure water; in the excepted instance it was naphtha. In all a vacuum of a certain amount existed, with one exception, however, in which a state of compression was indicated. The gas found with the water in the cavities was believed to be nitrogen; the quantity being so exceedingly minute as to render its analysis almost an impossibility. Now, one general deduction appears obvious from these facts. The cases in question, with but one exception, all indicate that the crystal was formed at a higher degree of temperature than the ordinary temperature of the atmosphere, because the vacuous, or semi-vacuous, condition of the cavity is just what would take place, if such had been the case, when exposed to a lower temperature. So far, therefore, the Neptunists have a serious argument in this fact against their hypothesis. And in the excepted instance, it is supposed that the crystal was formed under circumstances of great external compression.
Had we nothing more interesting than these facts to relate, we should scarcely have ventured to take up the pen on the subject. But, after the investigation had been apparently relinquished by Davy, it was undertaken by Sir David Brewster. His attention was first drawn to the subject by noticing the explosion of a topaz heated red hot, in consequence of the violent expansion of the enclosed fluid. On making a further examination of other crystalline bodies with the assistance of the microscope, he found that
in the interior of many gems there were thousands of cavities of various forms and sizes, some regular, others irregular. These cavities were observed to be arranged in groups, forming strata of cavities, and in enormous numbers. In one specimen upwards of thirty-seven thousand were counted in the space of the seventh of an inch; in others they were as numerous as the sand-grains of the sea-shore. Although generally microscopic, some were distinctly visible to the eye, and a few were even, comparatively speaking, of a large size. The very minuteness of the quantity of the contained fluids-for the cavities were generally in a greater or less degree full of fluid-made its chemical investigation impossible. The great philosopher of light hit upon another and equally accurate method of investigation. He depended upon the physical effects of light and heat for evidence of its nature; and this plan possesses the advantage of examining the fluids just as they are in their enclosing cavities. In Sir D. Brewster's hands it proved remarkably successful. The curious fact now came out, that in the greater number of cavities were found two new fluids, which differed in a most remarkable manner from any hitherto known. They were generally clear and colourless, and, what was most singular, they existed together often in the same cavity, and in actual contact with one another, yet without mixing in the smallest degree together! One of these fluids differs remarkably from its fellow-occupant of the cell. It was called the expansible fluid, from its remarkable property of enormous expansibility, being in this respect thirty times superior to water. In most of the cavities there was a vacuity, but when a moderate degree of warmth was applied, this fluid expanded so as completely to fill it. Sometimes, on increasing the temperature, the whole was converted into vapour. This fluid displayed a singularly voluble character, scarcely adhering at all to the sides of the cavity, and rolling about in every direction, like the fluid in a level; even with the slightest tap on the microscope it trembled in a very lively manner; it resembled, in fact, rather a gas than a fluid. The refractive power of this fluid was also different to tl.at of other known bodies, being inferior even to water. On the other hand, the dense fluid was totally unaffected by heat. Its particles appear to have a strong attraction for one another, and for the sides of the cavity; and, while the expansible fluid lies in the bays of the mimic sea within, the dense fluid is invariably found in the narrow channels, creeks, and necks of the cavity. Black, spicular crystals are often found in the dense fluid. Having fallen upon a method of opening the cavities, Sir D. Brewster was able to investigate the physical characters of these new fluids out of their prison-house. The most expansible fluid runs out first, and appears on the surface of the gem. When it has made its escape, neither remains still like oils, nor disappears like evaporable fluids. It is in a state of constant motion. Now, it will be seen to expand to more than twelve times its area, and then it will contract again to its original size. These motions frequently last ten minutes. Suddenly the fluid disappears, and all that remains is a minute residue of transparent microscopic particles. Upon examining this residue,' writes Sir D. Brewster, in his account of his discovery, communicated to the Royal Society of Edinburgh, 'with a single microscope, held in the hand, I was surprised to see it again start into a fluid state, and to extend and contract itself as before. This was owing to the moisture of my hand, and I can at any time revive the indurated substance by the approach of a moist body. A portion of the fluid which I took out of a cavity twenty days ago may still be made fluid again by moisture. This portion was shown to an eminent naturalist, the Rev. Dr Fleming, who remarked that, had he observed it accidentally, he would have ascribed its apparent vitality to the movements of some animals of the genus Planaria!' After the cavity has been left open a day or two, the dense fluid then comes out, and soon hardens into a resinous, yellowish, transparent substance, neither volatile nor soluble in water or alcohol, but dissolving with effervescence in sulphuric acid, and also dissolving in nitric and
muriatic acids. After both fluids had been exposed to the air for some time, they acquired a metallic lustre. The curious motions of contraction and expansion displayed by the expansible fluid have been supposed to have an expla nation in a singular experiment upon a drop of water. It was placed on a flat surface of mercury, between the two poles of a galvanic battery of some power; when the electric current was permitted to flow through the mercury, the drop was seen to lose its sphericity, and to spread out until it became quite flat; when the circuit was broken it resumed its globular form. These movements precisely correspond to those in question, but the difficulty is to account for the electricity requisite for their display. Pos sibly it is connected with the crystallisation of the fluid, supposing that the transparent residue is crystalline, since electric phenomena not unfrequently accompany this process.
Looking once more at the fluids as contained in the gems, a most beautiful phenomenon presents itself. On the temperature of the apartment being slightly elevated, a brown spot appears in the centre of the vacuous space in the cavity, which is a spot of condensed vapour. In its i formation and dropping down again, a number of beautifully-tinted rings make their appearance, the play of colours in which presents an optical exhibition of no common attractiveness. While these rings are playing. the vacuity contracts and expands like the pupil of the eye. A drop of ether, by the cold of its evaporation, puts an instant stop to the exhibition. On the application of some heat, the whole fluid is in a state of constant trembling, as if its surface were disturbed by rapid-falling drops, while rings of a beautiful variety appear and disappear in rapid succession. If the heat is increased, the specimen may probably burst. A gentleman received a severe cut in his mouth by putting a gem into it, the fluid of which expanded and burst with great violence. Sometimes a curious phenomenon is seen; the heat being still applied, the expansible fluid actually rends its way through the adamantine walls, and escapes, but leaves not the smallest perceptible cleav age in the crystal to indicate its path. When the warm hand is applied to the crystal, the fluids are immediately in motion, but when the heat is withdrawn, both resume the exact places they formerly occupied, just as though they were endowed with vitality.
These apparently insignificant facts present us with an inexplicable mystery, which all science cannot unfold. What is the nature, and what has been the origin of these two new fluids? The first inquiry it is in vain to attempt to consider. As to their origin: Did they exist on earth at the formation of the globe, or have they been produced since by some undiscovered laws of mineralogy? It is a most unaccountable fact that these two fluids have been found in the most different crystalline bodies-in quartz, amethyst, topaz, cymophane, and others; and it is equally strange that the specimens containing them have been procured from the most contrasted and opposite quarters of the globe, as, for example, from Scotland, Siberia, New Holland, Canada, Brazil, &c. If the fluids are the results of some internal alterations, how is it that arti ficial crystals do not produce similar ones? and how is it that such different crystals produce precisely the same fluids? The probability is that these very singular fluids fulfilled some most important function in the early history of the globe-a supposition to which the fact of their wide distribution seems to lend probability. But beyond this philosophy leaves us in ignorance. With regard to the relative position of the fire and water philosophers, these discoveries rather tend to support the former hypothesis, and to damp the ardour of the opponents. It was found, that in many instances where vacuities existed, a temperature of about eighty degrees caused the expansible fluid completely to fill the cavity. We are therefore to suppose that the crystal could not have been formed around such a fluid nucleus at a lower temperature than that; as if the substance of the crystal were in a soft condition in the process of its formation, it must have accurately applied itself to the surface of the fluid within it. As the crystal cooled
and hardened, the expansible fluid would contract and leave the vacuity in question. Could chemistry, by any of her refined operations, but produce such a delicately expansive fluid as that contained in these gems, how valuable an addition would it prove to our thermometrical philosophy! Meanwhile, Sir D. Brewster has suggested, and the observation deserves the attention of all, that very delicate thermometers might be constructed of plates of topaz, the cavities in which assumed a cylindrical form, thus constructing an exquisitely sensitive natural thermometer, | wholly inimitable by human art. When the operations of chemistry become so refined and delicate as to require it, perhaps these invaluable instruments may be adopted. Sir D. Brewster's conclusion is, that he can see no probable way of accounting for the phenomena presented by these cavities and their contained fluids, but by supposing that the cavities were formed by highly elastic substances when the mineral itself had been either in a state of fusion, or rendered soft by heat.'
May we not suppose that, although no longer visible on the surface of the globe, excepting in the minute quantities contained in a lady's jewel, yet that these fiuids may lie deep imprisoned in the heart of the earth? that those terrible heavings of her solid bosom, which desolate countries and overwhelm cities and people, are, after all, but the resistless expansions of a pent-up fluid, a mimic drop of which may lend a brilliancy to a jewelled bracelet or ringbegirt finger? The thought is full of interest, and, minute though the source of our wonder, should it not spread out into a stream of admiration and praise as we contemplate, even in the tiny cavity of a gem, indications of that Allcreative hand, which alone is excellent in working,' illimitable in power?
OSCEOLA AND THE INDIAN SLAVE. THE tall green trees of a hundred ages hung over the waters of the Chatahuche, and bathed their pendent branches in the cooling river. The graceful acacia reared its handsome trunk high above the clumpy mulberries and the light maples, shaking over them its light green and airy foliage, as if to fan and shade them from the ardent beams of the sun. The banks of the broad stream were covered with clumps of shrubs and masses of herba- | ceous plants, which are tended and nursed in the conservatories of Europe, but spring in indigenous profusion by this wild and distant river, which the shallop of the white man had not yet navigated, nor the great eye of his cupidity scanned. The Chatahuche is one of the great arterial rivers of South Georgia, which, after flowing through that territory, drains the swamps of Florida, and then pours its tributary waters into the basin of the Mexican Gulf. The vegetation by this stream is rank and luxuriant; for an almost tropical position, and the nature of its climate and soil, conduce to develop a fertility as profuse as it is beautiful. The grand old trees, that stood like sentinels on the rich alluvial borders of the Chatahuche, and twined their long dark limbs over its glittering face, were reflected in the depths of its transparent bosom; and the flowers-the wild dahlia, the rhododendron, the lovely wisteria, and the ground-vine-hung their blossoms and foliage over its margin. There was a sublime aspect of repose pervading the primeval scene, as the sun rose over the tallest clumps of the forest, and threw his broken beams in golden patches upon the river and the forest-ground beneath. The wild beasts, afraid to disturb the peace of nature's day, had retired to their lairs; the birds, beautiful but dumb, perched upon the shaded boughs, or hopped from twig to twig, as if listening to the holy silence that lay, like the prestige of the primeval Sabbath, upon the uncultured, unexplored wild. The zephyr, laden with perfume from the prairies, came sighing amongst the leaves of the pine and acacia, and stirred them with the motion of his wings; and the trembling coy plants shook pearly dew drops on his path, as if whispering a benediction of peace. It was a silent and a lovely scene, although peopled with all the crea
tures of its clime save one; but that one, the first and superior element of creation, was not there, and the clear Chatahuche, and the luxuriant verdure that surrounded it, were to the world a valueless terra incognita. The great element of human interest, which gives interest to everything with which it is associated, is humanity, so that the banks of the Chatahuche were scarcely worth dwelling on, even in thought, had it not been for the sake of one human being. The bosky underwood that grew on either side of the broad deerpath, which led from the forest to the banks of the river, was suddenly stirred by some unusual agency, and a woman emerged from the obscurity of the wood, and gazed wildly and timorously around her; a woman whose torn garments had been woven in the looms of the east, and whose beautiful and graceful, though weary form, had never been subjected to the labour of the fields, suddenly stood amongst the grandeur and the gloom of this primeval landscape. Long black tresses hung over her swanlike neck, as if to veil it from the sun, which had already tinged it with a faint shade of brown; her little feet were torn and bloody; and her raiment was hanging in shreds, rent by the gorse and honey-locust. Her face was as beautiful and full of grief as that of the mother of Niobe. Her large black eyes, soft and glowing with sentiment as those of an Ethiopian beauty, seemed begging protection from the caverned rocks that reared their dark forms around her. Timid yet brave, shrinking from the faintest sound, yet eager to explore the most hidden recesses of this dark chamber of nature, the young maiden moved about with trembling steps, and gazed around with anxious eyes. In some eastern court, with a tiara on her brow and Cashmerian robes upon her lovely form, that maiden would have commanded the homage of a regal throne. The proud lineaments of her Caucasian origin were softened by one tinge of Ethiopic descent. The spirit and energy of her Saxon fathers shone from her intellectual brow and firm mouth. The sorrow and sadness of her maternal line were visible in the drooping eyes and richly-blooded cheeks. Poor child! she was a slave—a fugitive slave.
Sophia was the property of Abel Randolph, a rich and Christian planter of Georgia. He had purchased her; he had given another Christian planter money for her, and had led the girl away to his estate; and the law-human republican law-had ratified the deed of transfer, and had declared Sophia to be the property of Abel Randolph. Mysterious are thy ways, however, oh God! Deep in the unseen chambers of the poor slave's nature thou hadst planted a soul, pure and noble as ever dwelt in the fairest, whitest bosom. Abel Randolph had only bought the semblance of Sophia; her spirit was free and pure, and that indignant spirit had led her alone into the illimitable wilderness of nature, rather than become a thing as mean as the freeman Abel Randolph. Day and night had she toiled on through bush, and swamp, and lonely place, scarce hope before her, and with savage bloodhounds and still more savage men in her rear.
Weary and faint, the exhausted fugitive at last sat her down upon the river's bank, and gazed with an irresolute, half-wishful eye upon the placid and inviting waters that kissed her hot and lacerated feet. Suddenly she bent her head, however, and a shudder passed over her, as she listened to the faint howl of her canine pursuers, as it came from the recesses of the wood, and the low but unmistakeable cheers of men, which mingled with their baying. Sophia rose to her bleeding feet, which had borne her so far and long, and she looked furtively around her. She had reached the last point in her flight from a bondage worse than death, and resolved that she should not be captured. She was about to spring into the river, when the wild but measured cadence of a boat-song was wafted to her ear. It was a song of savage men-of dwellers in the woods and wilds, who knew no laws save those invisible innate laws of association that are more powerful than statutes, and who acknowledge no superiority save that of physical force. The light tiny bark came sweep
ing along to the vigorous strokes of the paddles. In the prow stood a man erect as the poplar, and solemn as the great sachem of the Seminoles. His robes were of the finest, whitest skins of the mountain-goat, fringed with the black hair of his enemies. Around his neck hung many colorettes of the claws of the grizzly bear, which showed his boldness and prowess in the chase; and on his head-dress were a profusion of eagle's plumes, and two horns of the moose, which demonstrated that he was a great and honoured chief. In his hand he held a long spear ornamented with red bark, and on his shoulder hung a red shield; while knife, tomahawk, bow, and quiver full | of arrows, gave him an athletic and warlike appearance. Redbird, the great chief of the Seminoles, was hated and feared by the white men who dwelt on the frontiers, because they said he had no pity. He was cruel and vindictive, and often gave the roofs of the settlers to the flames, and their flesh to the wolves. He even took the scalps of women, as the settlers on Flint River declared; but, nevertheless, the Seminoles loved him, and sung his praises in their wigwams. From the deep recesses of the forest came the loud baying of the sleuth-hound, from the transparent bosom of the river came the song of the savage-whither shall the poor fragile slave-girl fly from them? shall she choose one of them or death? Nearer and nearer came the white man on her path; nearer and nearer the canoe of Redbird the savage. As the latter appeared in view, the poor fugitive, whose terror had fled before hope, uttered a scream and stretched out her arms in an imploring attitude. The white men in the settlements might write Redbird down a savage and implacable man if they would, but he saw the maiden, and understood the mute but eloquent appeal. In a moment the bark had touched the bank-the redman lifted the fainting maiden into the canoe--and the Indian chief had but passed the spot by a few hundred yards, when the baffled rangers and their yelling dogs emerged from the forest. The disappointed slave-hunters gazed upon the bounding skiff, and cursed the redmen in their hearts, who had so fortuitously robbed them of their prey.
The savage, cruel Redbird did not scourge nor scalp the humble slave; he did not even insult her as Abel Randolph, Esq., had done. He looked upon her weak and weary form, and his heart melted with pity. He laid her down upon the softest buffalo skin that lay in his wigwam, and covered her with his richest robes, and the slave girl became the wife of a great Indian chief; and her daughter, the Whitefawn, was so fair and beautiful that she won the heart of the noble Osceola, and became the queen of his wigwam. The slave Sophia never sighed for the plantation of civilisation, for in the village of her warrior husband all that she could love dwelt, and she was no slave, but a free woman and a queen.
The white men have often made treaties with the Indians, and have sworn most solemn oaths to preserve them inviolate, yet, strange to tell, they have broken them all. The only treaty that the white man promised to keep and did keep was not ratified by an oath. The Indian, who never breaks his word, still credulously accepts the promises of the paleface, and meets him again and again in council and treaty. Three commissioners from the government of Georgia entered the village of Redbird one morning, and the great council of the nation was forthwith convened. The sage chiefs sat solemn and silent beside the white men, and around the high council of honour were ranged the most distinguished braves and chiefs of the Redbird tribe of the Seminoles. It was a territorial treaty which brought them together-an attempt at dispossession, of a character with those too numerous and successful efforts which disgrace the annals of the United States, had brought the white men to the land of the Seminoles.
When the council was concluded, the commissioners were consigned to the hospitality of the most distinguished chiefs, and Abei Randolph and his nephew, who formed part of the commission, were led to the wigwams of Redbird and Osceola. If Sophia in her youth had been beau
tiful, her daughter, the Whitefawn of the Seminoles, was lovelier still. Her father's red blood mantled through her transparent, fair skin, and her round and elastic form was as full and free as that of the Medician Venus. As we have said, her mother had been treated as a wife and not as a slave by Redbird; and Osceola also regarded his lovely Whitefawn with as much care and respect. When the white men had sat down upon the mat and began to eat, the now aged slave and her daughter brought lights || to their husbands, who had primed their pipes with knickkneck. Suddenly the guests exchanged glances with one another, and a gleam of joyful, half-savage intelligence overspread their faces. Abel Randolph had discovered in these two Indian wives his slaves, and his distardly soul was already plotting their abduction. The law, the atrocious law of Georgia, written a half century before, rose up like an ogre to claim from Redbird and Osceola their wives as slaves. They ate of the red man's venison, and they drank from his gourd; and with profound professions of friendship upon their lips, that grey-haired senator and his chivalric nephew took leave of the village of the Seminoles.
Simple people believe that truth is sacred, be it spoken to saint or savage. The legislators of America deny this theory in practice. They have created a dual faith-two- | fold as Janus. They adopt, in its worst form, the treachery | of the redskin, but they scorn to emulate his virtue of truthfulness. Eighteen years had passed since that por fugitive girl had fled from the cruelty of this law-maker of a free state. The years of her bondage were but a dream, for she had lived as a queen amongst her husband's people, and the very tongue that she had spoken in her slavery had almost ceased to be remembered. Yet, tena- | cious as the grave, that slaveholder of Georgia clung to her and the child of her bosom as his property. The Whitefawn of the Seminoles, the daughter of Redbird, the wife of Osceola, she who had been born in the broad, free prairie, who had been rocked to sleep by the free wind, as she hung in her Indian cradle upon the limb of | the pine, she who had been almost worshipped by the squaws of her tribe was, in the criminal ideality of a white man, called a slave, and that white man fortified his claim to her by the opinion of his forefathers, which had been embodied and adopted as a law.
The noblest warriors and chiefs of the Seminoles escorted the commissioners and the soldiers who accompanied them through their territory, but when they had reached the hunting-grounds of the Cherokees they waved their hands gracefully in farewell; and Redbird and Osceola were the warmest and most graceful in their greetings.
The white and red men parted, but not for ever. The stars were looking down upon the village of the Seininules that night with the saddest expression of sadness, as a | band of white men, headed by Abel Randolph, stole stealthily towards the wigwam of Osceola. The stars have looked upon many sad and sorrowful deeds during their silent midnight watches, and they have marked high | heroic glories also upon the brows of unseen, unknown | men and women; but they never looked upon deed of deeper infamy or treachery than was that which was being enacted by Abel Randolph under the name of law. If the stars had been the dark eyes of Redbird or those of Osceola, that band would not have approached the wigwam so safely and without challenge; but the chiefs and warriors had gone to hunt the buffalo when they bade the white men farewell, and they would not return perhaps for two or three days. Whitefawn and her mother were seized by the relentless robbers, and, spite of tears, and grief, and indignation, were borne away as quietly as possible, as the property of the white man.
'And why does not Whitefawn meet me?' cried Osceola, as he bore home from the chase the choicest part of a young buffalo, rolled in its rare white skin. And why is my wigwam empty P' he cried, as he gazed wildly round him and did not discover his darling wife. The tale of robbery and abduction was soon told; and Osceola and Redbird, with a hundred warriors at their backs, were
soon upon the broad trail of Abel Randolph and his band. A day of pursuit brought the burning, injured redskins to the bivouac of the whites. In a low, crumbling log shanty, which some trapper had built upon the banks of a creek, in which to stow his skins during the hunting season, Abel Randolph had placed the wretched Sophia and Whitefawn; and, seated round a fire of logs, the escort and their leader were eating and drinking triumphantly. As the tinchal surrounds the browsing deer, so did the hundred redskins noiselessly encircle the soldiers, and then, like two spirits of the forest, Redbird and Osceola glided into the midst of the astonished band.
For a short space the two tall and beautiful chiefs only gazed scornfully upon their treacherous foes, and then Redbird exclaimed, at the same time confronting Abel Randolph, 'Let the wolf of the palefaces restore to my wigwam its queen.'
Osceola's words were few and pointed; he only said, 'Osceola has come for his wife.'
Villany was seldom destitute of hardihood, and it was not likely that Abel Randolph, who had been the senator of a slave state, was to be destitute of this element of a robber. He rose to his feet and confronted the Indians, as his men followed his example and took to their arms, and then calmly replied, 'I do not know the queen of Redbird's wigwam, nor the wife of Osceola. I never saw them. I saw my slaves hidden like rabbits in the wigwams of the Seminoles, and I took them away. I have spoken.'
A low and expressive 'Hugh!' burst from the lips of the Indians, but still they did not move.
There are thirteen warriors of the palefaces with rifles in their hands,' said Osceola, calmly, and they are in the woods with two women of the Seminoles; while a hundred bows are bent around them, and a hundred tomahawks are unslung and ready to the redskin's hands. The redskins say, that the women shall go home again, and sing in the wigwams of their husbands. Will the palefaces let them go in peace?' he asked significantly.
No, never,' cried Abel Randolph, aiming a blow at the head of the athletic young Indian; which, with the speed of lightning, he parried and returned, braining the slaveholder where he stood.
The wild fierce sounds of war instantly rose on the stillness of the forest like the sounds of fiendish jubilee; and when it died away, the Indians with their wives were on the march, while twelve scalps torn from the heads of the white soldiers and Abel Randolph hung upon their warpole. The nephew of the planter alone escaped to tell the tale, and to rouse to bloody vengeance the chivalry of his state.
Dark and direful was the war of extermination which followed this terrible night. The soldiers of the model republic, led on by the man whom millions would now invest with presidential honours, hunted with the bloodhounds of Cuba the noble and invincible Seminoles.
Redbird fell, defending his wife, beneath the bullet of a Georgian rifleman, whose wife longed and sighed for his return from the war; and Sophia lay down beside the corpse of her murdered daughter, in a swamp which was still sacred to liberty, and there she died free.
Osceola was now alone. His heart was dead; his wife, his people were gone, and yet he scorned to yield. He was now thin and emaciated, and his feet were heavy as he dragged them along on the war-path, but still he had no selfish love of life or peace, and he scorned to yield.
But treachery did what arms could not do. The myrmidons of the United States promised peace to the broken remnant of the Seminoles, if Osceola would submit to the domination of the white men, and, like a true patriot, the redskin gave himself up for his country. They murdered him, and they broke their word. They rendered Florida a silent, depopulated wilderness, and they blotted the name of Seminole from living story; but the causes and issue of this dreadful tale of slavery shall bring the blush into the cheek of America, while history records the foul stain on her memory.
THREE DAYS' HUNT AFTER CROAKERS. (Third Day's Hunt-continued from page 111.)
To select the nervously sensitive as the butt of any unfeeling or unthinking company,' said Mr Smith, on Mr Brown's return, is cowardly conduct.
It is so it is like striking a woman, and should be resented as such by society; but at the same time a person of this soft and susceptible temperament should fortify himself against this evil by calm reflection and firm resolution, and the jest which is now to him a poisoned arrow, will soon become as the crackling of thorns beneath a pot. Cowper, who knew what the pains of bashfulness were, feelingly says—
I pity bashful men, who feel the pain
Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain,
The fear of being silent makes us mute.
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.'
'Poor Cowper!' said Mr Smith with some warmth; 'but I'll tell you what, I've always found these tongue-bullies, like braggarts, cowards at heart, and easily put down.'
You are right,' said Mr Brown, 'people are apt to imagine they have hides like a rhinoceros, whilst, in fact, they are as quick and thin-skinned as a newly-closed wound. They delight to hit, but none stand hitting worse-and if hitting is lawful in any case, they are proper subjects of it, and, at any rate, the defenceless should be protected. It is true, there is a kind of pleasant banter allowable among friends who understand each other-raillery I mean
raillery, properly so called, which turns the current of humour apparently directed against an individual, to his praise, and is, in truth, an indirect way of paying a compliment. Not that compliments are the only thing which friendship owes. The advice which involves rebuke, and self-sacrifice to give, is one of its highest duties and surest tests.'
'Ay, ay,' chimed in Mr Smith, 'I see where you are. Pretty ingenious turn that.'
'I was just going to remark,' continued Mr Brown, without noticing his friend's allusion, about another class of self-tormentors.'
Well, let it be the last; we've had enow of them. They are not the pleasantest of company.'
The last be it till another opportunity; but it is well to know them all, that we may range ourselves under the class we like best.'
'Like best!' reiterated Mr Smith.
'There is a numerous class of persons who are the most affable and obliging imaginable to acquaintances, and even to strangers, and who are always studious to please into whatever society they go; and yet are selfish and eross whenever they pass the threshold of their own dwellings. If they would take half the pains to be happy and make happy at home that they do when abroad, they would be happy indeed, and, instead of that heart-burning which they feel and cause, they would experience a sweet flow of affection and of tender associations around the family hearth, for the absence of which nothing else can compensate. The fox has better philosophy. He is said not to pilfer the poultry of the farm-yards around his hole that he may have peace at home. Another class--'
'I had forgot.'
But I have not.'
'Well, allow me to say, that in our efforts to escape needless pain, we must take care not to be over-studious in the matter, not to be always thinking about it. This of itself will become an evil. It is well to take care of health, but not to carry this care to excess. Certain diseases may be induced by constant thought and anxiety to escape them.