ay my life uselessly, I sprang to my feet and slipping
around the corner of the house I made my way over the old
fortification[2] 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."

FOOTNOTES:

[1] I lately came across this sketch in an old Magazine, bearing the
date of 1842, and thinking others might be as much interested by it as I
was myself, I transcribed it in an abridged form to the pages of this
volume.

[2] 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 further of the matter,