546 THE MALEDICTKD. 



If it should be my destiny to live until I had attained the period al- 

 lotted to the patriarch recorded in the pages of the sacred Pentateuch, 

 I should never be able to describe the multitudinous assemblage of sen- 

 sations I experienced whilst bearing home the corse of my murdered 

 child. What was I to say to the mother who adored him ? What to 

 the relatives who regarded him as the light and life of their earthly en- 

 joyment? What would be their feelings when I went in amongst 

 them, and laid my precious burden down stone dead upon the table 

 before them ? It was horrible to think ; and yet thought after thought 

 flashed upon me with a celerity which almost drove me to madness. 

 My Emily had anticipated our arrival ; she was standing at the door, 

 watching like impatient love, for our return. When she caught the first 

 glimpse of me, bloody with my bleeding load, she uttered an exclama- 

 tion of unearthly terror, and sunk down in utter insensibility. Her cry 

 aroused the family within, and they hastened to her assistance, but 

 appalled by the spectacle they beheld, they were incapable of render- 

 ing it. 



When my unhappy wife returned to a state of sensibility she loaded 

 herself with incessant reproaches j she accused herself in the bitterest 

 terms of being an accessary to the slaughter of her son ; she knew, she 

 said, that I was loath to go ; and but for her fatal acquiescence we would 

 have remained at home and in safety. I tried with a bleeding heart, 

 indeed, to solace my inconsolable partner, but my efforts were valueless. 

 It was the first instance of death she had witnessed, arid it overpowered 

 her soul with intolerable anguish. For myself, I was covered with self 

 abhorrence. I knew that I was the demon who had brought death and 

 misery into their small but happy community. The curse the unfailing 

 curse was pursuing me with an intensity which would have made the 

 very ashes of my denouncer tremble in her grave. 



Evening closed upon us in our desolation, but no eye sought for 

 slumber. We sat round our dead child in awful silence, we did not dare 

 to tell the agitations of our bosoms, and words of comfort we had none 

 to utter. I was suddenly roused from my stupor by a broad glare of 

 light at one of the windows, and rushing to the door, I found the house 

 on fire, and surrounded by a small party of Indians. Fury and despair 

 now took possession of our souls, arid we rushed out upon our murderous 

 assailants. The conflict was deadly. Gerard Detroisier and his brave 

 son fell by my side, while the burning house was falling in upon the re- 

 mainder of my relatives. It was in vain that I exposed myself; though 

 an Indian fell at every shot, I seemed to bear a charmed life, till seeing 

 the deed of darkness complete, they raised a yell of triumph and fled ! 

 ******* 



I have returned, in my old age, to the land of my nativity to lie down 

 and die when it shall please heaven to summon me. Oh ! in mercy, may 

 its call be speedy, for I am an outcast in this world. I may repeat with 

 fearful fidelity the touching words of the Indian Logan " there runs 

 not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature." 



W. G. T. 



