famine, and it still maintains its reputation of 

 colonial days for a refined and generous hos- 

 pitality. Here, in the exhilaration of the 

 hunter, the restful seclusion of the angler, the 

 quiet quest of the naturalist, the peaceful con- 

 templation of the student, is found surcease 

 from the vanities and vexations of urban life. 

 For nearly two centuries it has been a haven 

 of rest and recreation to its favored guests. 



"Here, like the hush of evening calm on hearts opprest, 

 In silence falls the healing balm of quiet rest; 



And softly from the shadows deep 



The grand oaks sing the soul to sleep 

 On Nature's breast." 



The house, or hall, built by "King" Roger 

 Moore in 1725, with its stately white pillars 

 gleaming in the sunshine through the sur- 

 rounding forest, is a most pleasing vista to the 

 passing mariner. The river view, stretching 

 for ten miles southward and eastward, in- 

 cludes "Big Sugar Loaf," Fort Anderson, 

 Fort Buchanan, and Fort Fisher. 



We loved its traditions and its memories, 

 for no sorrow came to us there. The 

 primeval forest, with its dense undergrowth 

 of dogwood blossoms, which shine with the 

 brightness of the falling snow; the thickets of 

 Cherokee roses, which surpass the most beau- 

 tiful of other regions; the brilliant carpet of 

 wild azaleas, the golden splendor of the 

 yellow jasmine, the modest drosera, the mar- 



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