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[Illustration: BATTLE OF ANTIETAM.]




  Edition d'Elite


  Historical Tales
  The Romance of Reality

  By
  CHARLES MORRIS

  _Author of "Half-Hours with the Best American Authors," "Tales from the
  Dramatists," etc._


  IN FIFTEEN VOLUMES
  Volume II


  American
  2


  J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
  PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON




Copyright, 1904, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.

Copyright, 1908, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.




  _CONTENTS._

                                                         PAGE

  PONCE DE LEON AND THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH                   7

  DE SOTO AND THE FATHER OF WATERS                         13

  THE LOST COLONY OF ROANOKE                               23

  THE THRILLING ADVENTURE OF CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH            29

  THE INDIAN MASSACRE IN VIRGINIA                          40

  THE GREAT REBELLION IN THE OLD DOMINION                  49

  CHEVALIER LA SALLE THE EXPLORER OF THE MISSISSIPPI       62

  THE FRENCH OF LOUISIANA AND THE NATCHEZ INDIANS          76

  THE KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN HORSESHOE                      88

  HOW OGLETHORPE SAVED GEORGIA FROM SPAIN                  95

  A BOY'S WORKING HOLIDAY IN THE WILDWOOD                 104

  PATRICK HENRY, THE HERALD OF THE REVOLUTION             113

  GOVERNOR TRYON AND THE CAROLINA REGULATORS              124

  LORD DUNMORE AND THE GUNPOWDER                          135

  THE FATAL EXPEDITION OF COLONEL ROGERS                  145

  HOW COLONEL CLARK WON THE NORTHWEST                     153

  KING'S MOUNTAIN AND THE PATRIOTS OF TENNESSEE           166

  GENERAL GREENE'S FAMOUS RETREAT                         171

  ELI WHITNEY, THE INVENTOR OF THE COTTON-GIN             185

  HOW OLD HICKORY FOUGHT THE CREEKS                       193

  THE PIRATES OF BARATARIA BAY                            206

  THE HEROES OF THE ALAMO                                 217

  HOW HOUSTON WON FREEDOM FOR TEXAS                       225

  CAPTAIN ROBERT E. LEE AND THE LAVA-BEDS                 231

  A CHRISTMAS DAY ON THE PLANTATION                       241

  CAPTAIN GORDON AND THE RACCOON ROUGHS                   252

  STUART'S FAMOUS CHAMBERSBURG RAID                       261

  FORREST'S CHASE OF THE RAIDERS                          277

  EXPLOITS OF A BLOCKADE-RUNNER                           291

  FONTAIN, THE SCOUT, AND THE BESIEGERS OF VICKSBURG      302

  GORDON AND THE BAYONET CHARGE AT ANTIETAM               311

  THE LAST TRIUMPH OF STONEWALL JACKSON                   319

  JOHN MORGAN'S FAMOUS RAID                               331

  HOME-COMING OF GENERAL LEE AND HIS VETERANS             347




  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

  AMERICAN. VOLUME II.


                                                    PAGE

  BATTLE OF ANTIETAM                       _Frontispiece._

  ALONG THE COAST OF FLORIDA                           9

  DE SOTO DISCOVERING THE MISSISSIPPI                 19

  POCAHONTAS                                          32

  JAMESTOWN RUIN                                      54

  COALING A MOVING BOAT ON THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER      73

  OLD SPANISH FORT, ST. AUGUSTINE                     98

  HOME OF MARY WASHINGTON, FREDERICKSBURG, VA        108

  HOME OF PATRICK HENRY DURING HIS LAST TWO
    TERMS AS GOVERNOR OF VIRGINIA                    114

  ST. JOHN'S CHURCH                                  122

  OLD MAGAZINE AT WILLIAMSBURG                       138

  VIEW IN THE NORTHWESTERN MOUNTAINS                 155

  COTTON-GIN                                         186

  JACKSON'S BIRTHPLACE                               198

  THE ALAMO                                          218

  COTTON FIELD ON SOUTHERN PLANTATION                242

  COLONIAL MANSION                                   262

  GORDON HOUSE                                       316

  TRIUMPH OF STONEWALL JACKSON                       323

  LEE'S HOUSE AT RICHMOND                            348




_PONCE DE LEON AND THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH._


A golden Easter day was that of the far-away year 1513, when a small
fleet of Spanish ships, sailing westward from the green Bahamas, first
came in sight of a flower-lined shore, rising above the blue Atlantic
waves, and seeming to smile a welcome as the mariners gazed with eyes of
joy and hope on the inviting arcades of its verdant forest depths. Never
had the eyes of white men beheld this land of beauty before. English
ships had sailed along the coast to the north, finding much of it bleak
and uninviting. The caravels of Columbus had threaded the glowing line
of tropic isles, and later ships had borne settlers to these lands of
promise. But the rich southlands of the continent had never before been
seen, and well was this unknown realm of beauty named Florida by the
Spanish chief, whether by this name he meant to call it the "land of
flowers" or referred to the Spanish name for Easter, Pascua Florida.
However that be, he was the first of the discoverers to set foot on the
soil of the great coming republic of the United States, and it is of
interest that this was done within the domain of the sunny South.

The weight of half a century of years lay upon the shoulders of Juan
Ponce de Leon, the discoverer, but warm hope burned in his heart, that
of winning renewed boyhood and youthful strength, for it was a magic
vision that drew him to these new shores, in whose depths he felt sure
the realm of enchantment lay. Somewhere amid those green copses or along
those liquid streams, he had been told, a living fountain sprang up
clear and sparkling from the earth, its waters of such a marvellous
quality that whoever should bathe in them would feel new life coursing
through his veins and the vigor of youth bounding along his limbs. It
was the Fountain of Youth he sought, that fabled fountain of which men
had dreamed for centuries, and which was thought to lie somewhere in
eastern Asia. Might not its waters upspring in this new land, whose
discovery was the great marvel of the age, and which men looked upon as
the unknown east of Asia? Such was the new-comer's dream.

Ponce de Leon was a soldier and cavalier of Spain in those days when
Spain stood first among the nations of Europe, first in strength and
enterprise and daring. Brave as the bravest, he had fought with
distinguished courage against the Moors of Granada at the time when
Columbus was setting out on his famous voyage over the unknown seas of
the West. Drawn by the fame of the discovery of the New World, De Leon
sailed with Columbus in his second voyage, and proved himself a gallant
soldier in the wars for the conquest of Hispaniola, of whose eastern
half he was made governor.

To the eastward lay another island, the fair tropic land ever since
known as Porto Rico. De Leon could see from the high hills of Hispaniola
the far green shores of this island, which he invaded and finally
subdued in 1509, making himself its governor. A stern oppressor of the
natives, he won great wealth from his possessions here and in
Hispaniola. But, like many men in his position, his heart was sore from
the loss of the youthful vigor which would have enabled him to enjoy to
the full his new-found wealth.

[Illustration: ALONG THE COAST OF FLORIDA.]

Could he but discover the wondrous fountain of youth and plunge in its
life-giving waters! Was not this the region in which it was said to lie?
He eagerly questioned the Indians about it, and was told by them that
they had often heard of such a fountain somewhere not far to the north.
It is probable enough that the Indians were ready to tell anything,
false or true, that would rid them of the unwelcome Spaniards; but it
may be that among their many fables they believed that such a fountain
existed. However that may be, De Leon gladly heard their story, and lost
no time in going forth like a knight errant in quest of the magic fount.
On March 3, 1513, he sailed with three ships from Porto Rico, and, after
threading the fair Bahama Islands, landing on those of rarest tropic
charm, he came on Easter Sunday, March 27, in sight of the beautiful
land to which he gave the name of Florida.

Bad weather kept him for a time from the shore, and it was not until
April 9 that he was able to land. It was near the mouth of the St. John
River, not far from where St. Augustine now stands, that he set foot on
shore, the first white man's foot to tread the soil of the coming United
States since the days of the Northmen, five centuries before. He called
his place of landing the Bay of the Cross, and took possession of the
land for the king of Spain, setting up a stone cross as a sign of
Spain's jurisdiction.

And now the eager cavalier began the search for that famous fount which
was to give him perpetual youth. It is not likely he was alone in this,
probably most of his followers being as eager as he, for in those days
magic was firmly believed in by half of mankind, and many wild fancies
were current which no one now accepts. Deep into the dense woodland they
plunged, wandering through verdant miles, bathing in every spring and
stream they met, led on and on by the hope that some one of these might
hold the waters of youth. Doubtless they fancied that the fountain
sought would have some special marks, something to distinguish it from
the host of common springs. But this might not be the case. The most
precious things may lie concealed under the plainest aspect, like the
fabled jewel in the toad's forehead, and it was certainly wisest to let
no waters pass untried.

Months passed on. Southward along the coast they sailed, landing here
and there and penetrating inland, still hopeful of finding the enchanted
spring. But wherever it might lie hidden, they found it not, for the
marks of age which nature had brought clung to them still, and a
bitterly disappointed man was Juan Ponce de Leon when he turned the
prows of his ships away from the new-found shores and sailed back to
Porto Rico.

The Will-o'-the-wisp he sought had baffled him, yet something of worth
remained, for he had made a discovery of importance, the "Island of
Florida," as he called it and thought it to be. To Spain he went with
the news of his voyage, and told the story of his discovery to King
Ferdinand, to whom Columbus had told his wonderful tale some twenty
years before. The king at once appointed him governor of Florida, and
gave him full permission to plant a colony in the new land--continent or
island as it might prove to be.

De Leon may still have nourished hopes in his heart of finding the
fabled fountain when, in 1521, he returned to plant the colony granted
by the king. But the natives of Florida had seen enough of the Spaniards
in their former visit, and now met them with arrows instead of flowers
and smiles. Fierce fights ensued, and their efforts to establish
themselves on the new shores proved in vain. In the end their leader
received so severe an arrow wound that he withdrew and left to the
victorious Indians the ownership of their land. The arrow was poisoned,
and his wound proved mortal. In a short time after reaching Cuba he
died, having found death instead of youth in the land of flowers.

We may quote the words of the historian Robertson in support of the
fancy which led De Leon in the path of discovery: "The Spaniards, at
that period, were engaged in a career of activity which gave a romantic
turn to their imagination and daily presented to them strange and
marvellous objects. A new world was opened to their view. They visited
islands and continents of whose existence mankind in former ages had no
conception. In those delightful countries nature seemed to assume
another form; every tree and plant and animal was different from those
of the ancient hemisphere. They seemed to be transported into enchanted
ground; and, after the wonders which they had seen, nothing, in the
warmth and novelty of their imagination, appeared to them so
extraordinary as to be beyond belief. If the rapid succession of new and
striking scenes made such impression on the sound understanding of
Columbus that he boasted of having found the seat of Paradise, it will
not appear strange that Ponce de Leon should dream of discovering the
fountain of youth."

All we need say farther is that the first attempt to colonize the shores
of the great republic of the future years ended in disaster and death.
Yet De Leon's hope was not fully amiss, for in our own day many seek
that flowery land in quest of youthful strength. They do not now hope to
find it by bathing in any magic fountain, but it comes to them by
breathing its health-giving atmosphere and basking in its magic clime.




_DE SOTO AND THE FATHER OF WATERS._


America was to the Spaniards the land of gold. Everywhere they looked
for the yellow metal, more precious in their eyes than anything else the
earth yields. The wonderful adventures of Cortez in Mexico and of
Pizarro in Peru, and the vast wealth in gold found by those sons of
fame, filled their people with hope and avarice, and men of enterprise
began to look elsewhere for great and rich Indian nations to subdue and
plunder.

North of the Gulf of Mexico lay a vast, mysterious region, which in time
to come was to be the seat of a great and mighty nation. To the
Spaniards it was a land of enchantment, the mystic realm of the unknown,
perhaps rich in marvels and wealthy beyond their dreams. It was fabled
to contain the magic fountain of youth, the hope to bathe in whose
pellucid waters lured Ponce de Leon to his death. Another explorer, De
Ayllon, sailed north of Florida, seeking a sacred stream which was said
to possess the same enchanted powers. A third, De Narvaez, went far into
the country, with more men than Cortez led to the conquest of Mexico,
but after months of wandering only a handful of his men returned, and
not a grain of gold was found to pay for their suffering.

But these failures only stirred the cavaliers of Spain to new thirst
for adventure and gain. They had been told of fertile plains, of
splendid tropical forests, of the beauty of the Indian maidens, of
romantic incidents and hair-breadth escapes, of the wonderful influence
exercised by a white man on tribes of dusky warriors, and who knew what
fairy marvels or unimagined wealth might be found in the deep interior
of this land of hope and mystery. Thus when Hernando de Soto, who had
been with Pizarro in Peru and seen its gold-plated temples, called for
volunteers to explore and conquer the unknown northland, hundreds of
aspiring warriors flocked to his standard, burning with love of
adventure and filled with thirst for gold.

On the 30th of May, 1539, De Soto, with nine vessels and six or seven
hundred well-armed followers, sailed into Tampa Bay, on the Gulf coast
of Florida. Here they at once landed and marched inland, greedy to reach
and grasp the spectral image of gold which floated before their eyes. A
daring but a cruel man was this new adventurer. He brought with him
blood-hounds to hunt the Indians and chains to fetter them. A drove of
hogs was brought to supply the soldiers with fresh meat. They were
provided with horses, with fire-arms, with cannon, with steel armor,
with everything to overawe and overcome the woodland savages. Yet two
things they needed; these were judgment and discretion. It would have
been wise to make friends of the Indians. Instead, by their cruelty,
they turned them into bitter and relentless enemies. So wherever they
went they had bold and fierce foes to fight, and wounds and death marked
their pathway across the land.

Let us follow De Soto and his men into the realm of the unknown. They
had not gone far before a strange thing happened. Out of a crowd of
dusky Indians a white man rode on horseback to join them, making
gestures of delight. He was a Spaniard, Juan Ortiz by name, one of the
Narvaez band, who had been held in captivity among the Indians for ten
years. He knew the Indian language well and offered himself as an
interpreter and guide. Heaven seemed to have sent him, for he was worth
a regiment to the Spaniards.

Juan Ortiz had a strange story to tell. Once his captors had sought to
burn him alive by a slow fire as a sacrifice to the evil spirit. Bound
hand and foot, he was laid on a wooden stage and a fire kindled under
him. But at this moment of frightful peril the daughter of the chieftain
begged for his life, and her father listened to her prayer. Three years
later the savage captors again decided to burn him, and again the dusky
maiden saved his life. She warned him of his danger and led him to the
camp of another chief. Here he stayed till the Spaniards came. What
became of the warm-hearted maiden we are not told. She did not win the
fame of the Pocahontas of a later day.

Many and strange were the adventures of the Spaniards as they went
deeper and deeper into the new land of promise. Misfortune tracked
their footsteps and there was no glitter of gold to cheer their hearts.
A year passed over their heads and still the land of gold lay far away.
An Indian offered to lead them to a distant country, governed by a
woman, telling them that there they would find abundance of a yellow
metal. Inspired by hope, they now pushed eagerly forward, but the yellow
metal proved to be copper instead of gold, and their high hopes were
followed by the gloom of disappointment and despair. But wherever they
went their trail was marked by blood and pillage, and the story of their
ruthless deeds stirred up the Indians in advance to bitter hostility.

Fear alone made any of the natives meet them with a show of peace, and
this they repaid by brutal deeds. One of their visitors was an Indian
queen--as they called her--the woman chief of a tribe of the South. When
the Spaniards came near her domain she hastened to welcome them, hoping
by this means to make friends of her dreaded visitors. Borne in a litter
by four of her subjects, the dusky princess alighted before De Soto and
came forward with gestures of pleasure, as if delighted to welcome her
guests. Taking from her neck a heavy double string of pearls, she hung
it on that of the Spanish leader. De Soto accepted it with the courtly
grace of a cavalier, and pretended friendship while he questioned his
hostess.

But he no sooner obtained the information he wanted than he made her a
prisoner, and at once began to rob her and her people of all the
valuables they possessed. Chief among these were large numbers of
pearls, most of them found in the graves of the distinguished men of the
tribe. But the plunderers did not gain all they hoped for by their act
of vandalism, for the poor queen managed to escape from her guards, and
in her flight took with her a box of the most valuable of the pearls.
They were those which De Soto had most prized and he was bitterly stung
by their loss.

The adventurers were now near the Atlantic, on ground which had been
trodden by whites before, and they decided to turn inland and explore
the country to the west. After months more of wandering, and the loss of
many men through their battles with the Indians, they found themselves
in the autumn of 1540 at a large village called Mavilla. It stood where
stands to-day the city of Mobile. Here a large force of Indians was
gathered.

The Indian chief or cacique met De Soto with a show of friendship, and
induced him and a few of his men to follow him within the palisades
which surrounded the village. No sooner had they got there than the
chief shouted some words of insult in his own tongue and darted into one
of the houses. A minor chief got into a dispute with a Spanish soldier,
who, in the usual Spanish fashion, carried forward the argument with a
blow from his sword. This served as a signal for hostilities. In an
instant clouds of arrows poured from the houses, and before the
Spaniards could escape nearly the whole of them were slain. Only De
Soto and a few others got out with their lives from the trap into which
they had been beguiled.

Filled with revengeful rage, the Spanish forces now invested and
assailed the town, and a furious conflict began, lasting for nine hours.
In the end the whites, from their superior weapons and organization, won
the victory. But theirs was a costly triumph, for many of them had
fallen and nearly all their property had been destroyed. Mavilla was
burned and hosts of the Indians were killed, but the Spaniards were in a
terrible situation, far from their ships, without medicine or food, and
surrounded by brave and furious enemies.

The soldiers felt that they had had enough adventure of this kind, and
clamored to be led back to their ships. De Soto had been advised that
the ships were then in the Bay of Pensacola, only six days' journey from
Mavilla, but he kept this a secret from his men, for hopes of fame and
wealth still filled his soul. In the end, despite their entreaties, he
led the men to the north, spending the winter in a small village of the
Chickasaw Indians.

When spring opened the adventurers resumed their journey into the
unknown. In his usual forcible fashion De Soto seized on Indians to
carry his baggage, and in this way he brought on a violent battle, in
which the whites met with a serious defeat and were in imminent danger
of annihilation. Not a man of them would have lived to tell the tale if
the savages had not been so scared at their own success that they drew
back just when they had the hated Spaniards in their power.

[Illustration: DE SOTO DISCOVERING THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER.]

A strange-looking army was that which the indomitable De Soto led
forward from this place. Many of the uniforms of the men had been
carried off by the enemy, and these were replaced with skins and mats
made of ivy-leaves, so that the adventurers looked more like forest
braves than Christian warriors. But onward still they trudged, sick at
heart many of them, but obeying the orders of their resolute chief, and
in the blossoming month of May they made that famous discovery by which
the name of Hernando de Soto has ever since been known. For they stood
on the banks of one of the mightiest rivers of the earth, the great
Father of Waters, the grand Mississippi. From thousands of miles to the
north had come the waters which now rolled onward in a mighty volume
before their eyes, hastening downward to bury themselves in the still
distant Gulf.

A discovery such as this might have been enough to satisfy the cravings
of any ordinary man, but De Soto, in his insatiable greed for gold, saw
in the glorious stream only an obstacle to his course, "half a league
over." To build boats and cross the stream was the one purpose that
filled his mind, and with much labor they succeeded in getting across
the great stream themselves and the few of their horses that remained.

At once the old story began again. The Indians beyond the Mississippi
had heard of the Spaniards and their methods, and met them with
relentless hostility. They had hardly landed on the opposite shore
before new battles began. As for the Indian empire, with great cities,
civilized inhabitants, and heaps of gold, which Be Soto so ardently
sought, it seemed as far off as ever, and he was a sadly disappointed
man as he led the miserable remnant of his once well-equipped and
hopeful followers up the left bank of the great stream, dreams of wealth
and renown not yet quite driven from his mind.

At length they reached the region of the present State of Missouri. Here
the simple-minded people took the white strangers to be children of the
Sun, the god of their worship, and they brought out their blind, hoping
to have them restored to sight by a touch from the healing hands of
these divine visitors. Leaving after a time these superstitious tribes,
De Soto led his men to the west, lured on still by the phantom of a
wealthy Indian realm, and the next winter was passed near where Little
Rock, Arkansas, is now built.

Spring returned at length, and the weary wanderings of the devoted band
were resumed. Depressed, worn-out, hopeless, they trudged onward, hardly
a man among them looking for aught but death in those forest wilds. Juan
Ortiz, the most useful man in the band, died, and left the enterprise
still more hopeless. But De Soto, worn, sick, emaciated, was indomitable
still and the dream of a brilliant success lingered as ever in his
brain. He tried now to win over the Indians by pretending to be
immortal and to be gifted with supernatural powers, but it was too late
to make them credit any such fantastic notion.

The band encamped in an unhealthy spot near the great river. Here
disease attacked the men; scouts were sent out to seek a better place,
but they found only trackless woods and rumors of Indian bands creeping
stealthily up on all sides to destroy what remained of the little army
of whites.

Almost for the first time De Soto's resolute mind now gave way. Broken
down by his many labors and cares, perhaps assailed by the disease that
was attacking his men, he felt that death was near at hand. Calling
around him the sparse remnant of his once gallant company, he humbly
begged their pardon for the sufferings and evils he had brought upon
them, and named Luis de Alvaredo to succeed him in command. The next
day, May 21, 1542, the unfortunate hero died. Thus passed away one of
the three greatest Spanish explorers of the New World, a man as great in
his way and as indomitable in his efforts as his rivals, Cortez and
Pizarro, though not so fortunate in his results. For three years he had
led his little band through a primitive wilderness, fighting his way
steadily through hosts of savage foes, and never yielding until the hand
of death was laid upon his limbs.

Fearing a fierce attack from the savages if they should learn that the
"immortal" chief of the whites was dead, Alvaredo had him buried
secretly outside the walls of the camp. But the new-made grave was
suspicious. The prowling Indians might dig it up and discover the noted
form it held. To prevent this, Alvaredo had the body of De Soto dug up
in the night, wrapped it in cloths filled with sand, and dropped it into
the Mississippi, to whose bottom it immediately sank. Thus was the great
river he had discovered made the famous explorer's final resting-place.

With the death of De Soto the work of the explorers was practically at
an end. To the Indians who asked what had become of the Child of the
Sun, Alvaredo answered that he had gone to heaven for a visit, but would
soon return. Then, while the Indians waited this return of the chief,
the camp was broken up and the band set out again on a westward course,
hoping to reach the Pacific coast, whose distance they did not dream.
Months more passed by in hopeless wandering, then back to the great
river they came and spent six months more in building boats, as their
last hope of escape.

On the 2d of July, 1543, the scanty remnant of the once powerful band
embarked on the waters of the great river, and for seventeen days
floated downward, while the Indians on the bank poured arrows on them
incessantly as they passed. Fifty days later a few haggard, half-naked
survivors of De Soto's great expedition landed at the Spanish settlement
of Panuco in Mexico. They had long been given up as lost, and were
received as men risen from the grave.




_THE LOST COLONY OF ROANOKE._


In the year 1584 two wandering vessels, like the caravels of Columbus a
century earlier, found themselves in the vicinity of a new land; not, as
in the case of Columbus, by seeing twigs and fruit floating on the
water, but in the more poetical way of being visited, while far at sea,
by a sweet fragrance, as of a delicious garden full of perfumed flowers.
A garden it was, planted not by the hand of man, but by that of nature,
on the North Carolinian shores. For this was the first expedition sent
out by Sir Walter Raleigh, the earliest of Englishmen to attempt to
settle the new-discovered continent, and it was at that season as truly
a land of flowers as the more southern Florida.

The ships soon reached shore at a beautiful island called by the Indians
Wocokon, where the mariners gazed with wonder and delight on the scene
that lay before them. Wild flowers, whose perfume had reached their
senses while still two days' sail from land, thickly carpeted the soil,
and grapes grew so plentifully that the ocean waves, as they broke upon
the strand, dashed their spray upon the thick-growing clusters. "The
forests formed themselves into wonderfully beautiful bowers, frequented
by multitudes of birds. It was like a Garden of Eden, and the gentle,
friendly inhabitants appeared in unison with the scene. On the island
of Roanoke they were received by the wife of the king, and entertained
with Arcadian hospitality."

When these vessels returned to England and the mariners told of what
they had seen, the people were filled with enthusiasm. Queen Elizabeth
was so delighted with what was said of the beauty of the country that
she gave it the name of Virginia, in honor of herself as a virgin queen.
The next year a larger expedition was sent out, carrying one hundred and
fifty colonists, who were to form the vanguard of the British dominion
in the New World.

They found the land all they had been told. Ralph Lane, the governor,
wrote home: "It is the goodliest soil under the cope of heaven; the most
pleasing territory in the world; the continent is of a huge and unknown
greatness, and very well peopled and towned, though savagely. The
climate is so wholesome that we have none sick. If Virginia had but
horses and kine, and were inhabited by Englishmen, no realm in
Christendom were comparable with it."

But they did not find the natives so kindly disposed as in the year
before, and no wonder; for the first thing the English did after landing
on Roanoke Island was to accuse the Indians of stealing a silver cup,
for which they took revenge by burning a village and destroying the
standing corn. Whether this method was copied from the Spaniards or not,
it proved a most unwise one, for at once the colonists found themselves
surrounded by warlike foes, instead of in intercourse with confiding
friends.

The English colonists had the same fault as those of Spain. The stories
of the wonderful wealth of Mexico and Peru had spread far and wide over
Europe, and the thirst for gold was in all hearts. Instead of planting
grain and building homes, the new-comers sought the yellow evil far and
wide, almost as if they expected the soil to be paved with it. The
Indians were eagerly questioned and their wildest stories believed. As
the natives of Porto Rico had invented a magic fountain to rid
themselves of Ponce de Leon and his countrymen, so those of Roanoke told
marvellous fables to lure away the unwelcome English. The Roanoke River,
they said, gushed forth from a rock so near the western ocean that in
storms the salt sea-water was hurled into the fresh-water stream. Far
away on its banks there dwelt a nation rich in gold, and inhabiting a
city the walls of which glittered with precious pearls.

Lane himself, whom we may trust to have been an educated man, accepted
these tales of marvel as readily as the most ignorant of his people. In
truth, he had much warrant for it in the experience of the Spaniards.
Taking a