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."
[B] 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.
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