h the sun shone forth in all his glory upon the smoking
ruins--our drooping spirits were partly revived, and we crept to the
edge of the bushes, and timidly looked around--no human being was to be
seen, and, after some time, we ventured to rise to our feet. The Indians
appeared to have retired to the forest with their booty, and we ventured
forth. A sight the most appalling soon met our eyes--there, close by
each other, the old man and two of his sons lay mangled and scalped; the
other had been consumed in the house, having doubtless been shot from
without, and unable to leave it with the others. Soon the nearest
proprietors began to ride up to the scene of murder and desolation,
armed to the teeth, but too late to give any assistance. The bodies of
the two convicts were not found; many believed they had either gone off
or been carried off by the Indians. Being heartily sick of America, I
returned to Baltimore, where I did labouring work for a few months,
until I had got myself well clothed; then agreed with the captain of a
Greenock vessel to work my passage to Scotland, where I arrived, after
an absence of two years and three months. Such is an instance of the
nefarious system of which I was a victim."
THE PARSONAGE:
MY FATHER'S FIRESIDE.
After the lapse of about thirty years, I lately paid a visit to what had
once been my father's fireside. It was in the month of October that I
visited the manse of Kirkhall. My father had been minister of that
parish; and I received a kindly welcome from his worthy successor--one
of the warmest-hearted and most learned men in the Church of Scotland,
whom I have long known and esteemed as a brother. I found myself again
seated beside the hearth in the little parlour which was once gladdened
with a mother's smile--which was once cheered with the childish sports
of brothers and sisters--which was hallowed by the prayers and presiding
virtues of an affectionate father. They are all departed to the land of
spirits!
Yet, on looking round me, every object seemed to assure me that they
were still near--for almost everything else was unchanged. On looking
through the window from the elbow-chair in which I sat, the old and
magnificent lime tree, which, in the days of my youth, spread its
branches and foliage in wide luxuriance over the court, and gave
assurance of shade and shelter, was still unscathed. Its sweet-scented
flowers were indeed faded--for the breath of approaching wi
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