THE FLORIDA POCAHONTAS. 



CHAPTER X. 



THE FLORIDA POCAHONTAS. 



" Theirmemory liveth on your hills, 



Their baptism on your shore, 

 Your everlasting rivers speak 



Their dialect of yore." 



SIGOUBNET. 



THE evening meal was ended ; the planter's family and 

 the hunters were circled around the fire, weary with the 

 day's fatigues and enjoying rest as none but the weary 

 may. Pipes and cigars were lit, and the negroes crowded 

 the door-way, while, as in many a hunting-lodge before, 



" The stag-hounds, weary>with the chase, 



Lay stretched upon the rushy floor, 

 And urged in dreams the forest race 

 From Teviot Stone to Eskdale Moor." 



" Now for a story, Mike," said Miss Jackson. 



" No, taint my turn. Doctor, slide along with a yarn." 



" No, no ; stories are dealt like cards, always to the 

 left. It is your turn, Jackson." 



" Well, what shall it be anything from a fight to a 

 foot-race ?" 



"Let Miss Jackson name the subject," I suggested. 



