After it; thus the tree bears fruit and blossoms at the THE cathedral church at Seville, which is so magnificent in its exteriour, and so richly furnished within, is highly deserving a place among the noIt appears from experience that only one third of blest edifices of the kind in Europe. It is four hunthe nutmeg-trees bear fruit, but this cannot be dis-dred and twenty feet in length, two hundred and covered until the twelfth or fourteenth year of their sixty-three in breadth, within the walls, and one growth, therefore they must not be cut down at any hundred and twenty-six in height. At one angle of earlier age. The fruit-bearing quality is of short duration, as the tree will yield only from the twelfth to the twentieth year, and generally perishes at the age of twenty-four years. the building rises a tower of Moorish workmanship, three hundred and fifty feet high, on the top of which is the Giralda, a brazen image, weighing nearly a tun and a half, yet so admirably poised as to turn with the gentlest breeze. The ascent to the top of this lofty tower is rendered easy by a spiral path in the inside, of so gentle an inclination that a horse might trot up it, and so wide, that two horsemen may go abreast. While the traveller is lost in admiration of the external grandeur of this pile, he is equally astonished, on entering, to view its internal splendour and wealth. Eighty windows of beautifully painted glass shed their mellow light over fine paintings, noble statues, and altars of solid silver. The nutmeg-tree delights in a damp soil overgrown with weeds, and even shaded by large trees, provided it be not stifled by them. Under the shelter of the Canarium commune it thrives very well, and bears the cold which sometimes prevails on the tops of the mountains. The mutineg differs in quality according to the age of the tree, the soil, and the method of culture. The round nutmeg is preferred to that which is oblong, though they are specifically the same fruit. It ought to be fresh, moist, heavy, of a good smell, and an agreeable though bitter flavour, and it should yield an oily juice when pricked. The islands are divided into a number of plantations under the management of a mixed race of Europeans and Indians. The Dutch made use of many illiberal means to secure to themselves the exclusive pos- The organ exceeds the famous one at Haarlem in session of these valuable productions: many trees the number of its stops; the former having one hunthey destroyed, reserving sufficient only to produce dred and ten, and the latter only sixty. Yet so efa certain quantity of nutmegs; but finding the cli- fective are the bellows of this mighty instrument mate of Banda very unhealthy, and that a great num-that, when completely inflated, they will supply the ber of their servants yearly fell victims to it, they full organ for fifteen minutes. None but they who attempted to transfer the culture of this spice to Am-have heard it can conceive the effect of this astonboyna; these experiments have, however, proved ishing combination of sounds when managed by a unsuccessful. master-hand. Of this metal there is a profusion in this cathedral the statues of St Isidore and St Leander, as large as life, and a tabernacle for the host, twelve feet in height, adorned with columns, being of silver. In 1774, the English navigator, Forrest, found in But the most interesting object to the intelligent a small island near New Guinea, called Manaswary, American is the tomb of the great Columbus, the a nutmeg-tree, the fruit of which was of an oblong discoverer of the New World. It is in itself unworform, but well flavoured. This enterprising man thy of the great man who sleeps beneath it, consistplucked up about a hundred stems of the tree, and ing of only one stone with this inscription- A planted them in 1776, on the island of Bunwoot, which Castella y Arragon otre mundo des Colom. ;” that is, had just been ceded to him for the East India Com-"To Castile and Arragon Columbus gave another pany by the Sultan of Mindanno. Bunwoot is situ-world." But no monument, however splendid, no ated to the northeast of Borneo, and is a fertile inscription, however pompous, could have added to healthy spot, covered with beautiful trees. the fame of that illustrious man, or atoned for the base Labilliardiere also found the nutmeg-tree upon the ingratitude with which he was treated; indeed, had little island of Cocos, near the northern extremity a sumptuous cenotaph been erected over his remains, of New Ireland. The fruit, which was unripe when it would have ill agreed with the fetters which once he saw it, was oblong. This island is covered with loaded his limbs, and which are buried in the same evergreen trees, among which the Barringtonia spe- coffin with him. ciosa is conspicuous. It extends its branches laden Besides this noble cathedral, Seville contains with flowers horizontally a great way over the sea. twenty-five parish-churches, five chapels, thirty-five There are few cocoanut-trees, but many figs of dif- monasteries, twenty-nine nunneries with hospitals, ferent kinds. The crew observed floating along the and houses for other religious communities. Many shore, the fruits of several species of Pandanus (the of these convents are remarkable for the beauty of screw pine,) of the Barringtonia, and of the Heritie- their architecture, and, as well as the churches, conra, which trees stretched their branches, and even tain a profusion of fine paintings, among which are their trunks, in a very remarkable manner over the some by the celebrated Murillo. The city of Seville is of high antiquity, its foundation being ascribed to the Phenicians. The Romans gave it the name of Julia, which has been since corrupted to Sebilla, or Seville; by this people it was embellished with many magnificent edifices, of which scarcely any vestiges remain. While Spain was divided into petty monarchies, this city was under the dominion of different masters, and for a short time was the capital of an independent kingdom: it is now little inferiour in importance to Madrid. country was every where a dark wilderness—when our pilgrim fathers were at all times surrounded by the beasts and the savages of the forest-and when all was rude and cheerless. In the progress of scenes, from that time forward, many and dangerous were the vicissitudes by which they were marked. The eternal solitude which gave place to the busy hand of the settler, and the umbrageous darkness that disappeared from around his humble domicil, were yet the stilly haunts of the Indian. As the plain, in time, was made to yield support for the Seville stands in the midst of a rich and fertile new-comer, and the cabins of the white men began plain on the banks of the river Gaudalquiver, and is to thicken along the valley, the red men retired to surrounded by a wall five miles and a half in circum- the mountain. His pleasant places on the uplands, ference, defended by one hundred and seventy-six beside the rivers stocked with the scaly tribes yieldtowers. The streets are crooked and dirty, but ing to him sustenance, had become occupied. The some of the squares are spacious and magnificent; | level patches where he raised his corn, with the and in the suburbs are many noble edifices, and a beautiful hills where his tribe loved to congregate handsome promenade, called Allameda, having three were in the possession of the stranger. His nearer walks, planted with trees, and ornamented with hunting-grounds were disturbed, and his game beseats and fountains. The population of Seville is estimated at ninety thousand-less than might be expected from the extent of the city; but two or three families are not crowded into one house, as in Madrid, nor are the houses elevated more than two stories; each house likewise is constructed round the four sides of an open area, in which it is common for the family, in summer, to take up their abode under tents. These areas, or courts, are usually adorned with a profusion of flower-pots, and many of them have fountains, which keep the air pleasingly cool, and, by sprinkling the tiles with which they are paved, prevent them from being heated by the rays of the sun. Many of the streets of Seville are too narrow to admit a carriage, and the reason given for thus constructing them is, that they afford a shade from the burning rays of the sun, which would be otherwise insupportable. BATTLE OF BLOODY BROOK. gan to disappear. Thus dispossessed of his inheritance, and disquieted in his neighbouring solitudes, the primitive and rightful lord of the soil deeply fostered a secret hate against the cause of his grievances. As he gathered around his council fire, and reflected on the stranger's encroachments, or listened to the complaints of his brethren, and the exciting eloquence of his chiefs, his soul began to kindle within him, and his bosom to swell with rage. Already had the numbers of the pale faces become alarming, and their bold hardihood inspired a spirit of dread. The fearful missiles which the stranger so dexterously used, above all, excited his fears, and deterred him from manifesting his resentment. Continued irritation, however, overcomes apparent impossibilities, and gradually wears away the most obstinate objections. The cunning of the savage was deemed a match for his enemy; his fleetness, his distant retreats, and his poisoned arrows, were presented by the orators to force up his courage to the determined point. Nor was it long before the Indian's festering hate broke forth. The war-song now resounded along the mountain side. The fearful yell is heard in the distance, and each settler prepares himself for the worst. And now it was that the direful note of death rang along the Connecticut valley, and deeds of blood began to desolate the land. EVERY incident connected with the early history of our country, in which the valour of our forefathers was signally displayed, comes down to us with all the interest of self-love, and all the freshness of romance. We love to dwell for reasons better felt than explained, on the deeds of our sires, and the times that tried their souls. There is something For many years was this pleasant valley the hallowed in the associations which gather around scene of heroick struggles-of sufferings, and death. us, while reflecting on those instances of devoted- Long did the hardy white man sustain himself ness and chivalrous patriotism which distinguished against the superiour numbers and wily arts of the savtheir acts-a feeling of almost devotion. Too many age; but sadly did he pay the cost of his attachment of those deeds have gone down to oblivion "unhon- to the land of his choice, and the endearing associaoured and unsung ;" and if perchance a fragment of the past is snatched from the grasp of time, it excites in us sentiments the more sacred from the lapse of years. But there was a period in our country's story beyond that in which our forefathers struggled to make us a free and happy people-a time whose history is but faintly chronicled-when the sufferings of our pioneer ancestors were unwept and unrequited. That epoch would seem to have been swallowed up in the interest of the events which followed; yet those early periods afford us examples of unparalleled sufferance and unmatched heroism. It was a gloomy era, when the fair face of our tions of home. Frequent and deadly were the conflicts in which he engaged with his implacable enemy. Deep and lasting was the mutual hate of the combatants, and as deep and as artful were their schemes of destruction. Victory often crowned the untiring efforts of the foe, when painful captivity or indiscriminate slaughter ensued. To tell of the many murderous deeds and the deep agonies which marked the triumphs of the embittered savage, would long employ the pen, and harrow up the feelings of the soul. To the cruel preseverance of the Indian, in this war of extermination, were added the prompt. ings of base cupidity. The Canadian Frenchmen now urged on the brutal force of the not less barbar. ous foe, by their liberal rewards and legalized boun- Here, deeply immersed in the luxuriant wild-grass ties, for captives and for scalps. Still more power-shrink one thousand warriours, fiend-like exulting ful motives actuated the red men, while large num- in the anticipated victory and slaughter. Now came bers of the reckless whites joined them in the exe- the train of teams, cautiously guarded as they had cution of their most desperate deeds; and it was been thus far, by the chosen corps, and descended said that the cruelty and brutality of the Frenchmen the small hill which conducted them into the green far exceeded those of the savage wild man. vale traversed by the road, and near which lay the It was thus with our forefathers, when an attack | concealed foe, ready to dart on their prey. Tradiwas anticipated from combined forces of the Indians tion says, that here the noble youths, dreaming little on the little nucleus of farm-houses at the present of danger from the enemy, rested for the moment, beautiful village of Deerfield, Massachusetts. A lit- and gathered grapes from the clustering vines that tle army had collected at Hadley, composed of the hung thick with their rich fruit by the road. When, hardy peasantry of the valley, determined on deci-"sudden as the spark from the smitten steel," the sive and desperate efforts against the common ene- thousand savage forms sprang from their ambush, my. The produce which had been gathered and and with hideous yells rushed to the onslaught. housed, at Deerfield, was necessary for the support The vigorous youths, unterrified by the sudden asof this band of determined yeomanry, and for the sault, the yells, or the fearful numbers of their eneaffrighted families who had there congregated; nor my, instantly rallied, and as quickly brought their was it desirable that so much valuable sustenance rifles to their shoulders. They had received the should fall into the hands of the Indians, the more cloud of arrows, as the savages approached within effectually to enable them to continue their bloody bowshot of their victims, but now, in turn, the fatal warfare. It was therefore resolved, that one hun- lead from a still more deadly weapon made many a dred young men justly denominated "the flower of warriour bite the ground. The certain aim of the the country," should be selected to go with teams, in young band had told death to as many of the savage the face of danger, and transport the rich products clan. Still onward they pressed, over their dead, of the soil from Deerfield to Hadley. The expedi- and thickly hurled their missiles. Again with deadtion was cheerfully undertaken by the requisite ly aim the fire of the little determined group of number of brave youths. Already were their teams whites brought down the foremost of the desperate loaded and on their way to the place of destination. foe, and threw confusion into their ranks. A gleam The watchful enemy had, however, obtained intelli- of hope broke through the fearful prospect, and for gence of the expedition, and, with the greatest se- a moment relieved the doubts which the overwhelmcrecy and celerity, collected in fearful numbers on a ing numbers and fierce desperation of the savages neighbouring hill, shut out from view by the dense had inspired. But quickly in front was heard the forest with which it was crowned. animating voice of their valiant chieftain, and as quickly did they rally and return the destructive fire. The noble youths, though with half their numbers slain, resolved to sell their lives at fatal cost. Nor was a nerve thrilled with fear, or a heart disposed to falter, as their ultimate fate now became too plainly apparent. Still onward, with brutal force wrought to madness by the example and the thundering voice of the gigantick Philip, pressed the exulting foe. Here their eloquent chiefs encouraged them by every effort of language and of gesture, to deeds of bravery and desperation. There plans were matured, and every means devised, which power and stratagem could suggest, to destroy the devoted band, and to capture the treasures in their charge. And now their royal leader, with all the force and enthusiasm which had characterized the most potent wariour and consummate general that the history of savage life had ever revealed, broke forth, and thus evealed his great and impassioned mind: To the utmost deeds, brave Lathrop now inspired the daring band, as each had caught from him the thrilling cry: "Our God!—our homes!—our country, and our sires!" But in an instant, pierced with many arrows, he falls among the slain. The heroick captain, "the bravest of the brave," now fallen, the enemy express their fiendish joy in loud and terrifick yells. The fight thickens and man conflicts with man. The dying groans of the Christian nerves each youthful arm, which still deeper returns successive blows. "Warriours! see you the treasures of the pale faces the richest stores of the long knives? See ou the young men, few and feeble, that yonder c.relessly stroll in the valley? See you our numbers, and the brave warriours that stand around you, and feel not your hearts strong? Is not your arm po verful and your soul valiant? And who is he that goes before you? Who will direct you in the ambush and the fight? Is it not he who never knew fear-whose heart is like the mountain, and his arm Impelled with fury at the destruction which was like the forest-oak-the great chief of the Naragan-yet making in their ranks by the almost superhuman setts, whose people are like the leaves, and whose warriours are the terrour of the pale faces? Follow him, and all is yours. Each hatchet give a fatal aim-sink deep these knives!-these arrows drink their blood! Away!-to death-our fathers and our homes!" The wild spirit of the proud and lofty Philip, ran like electricity through the savage horde. Each burned for the affray, and quickly sprang into the trail of his great captain. Silently he glided from the mountain and cowered along the meadow-land that lay in a vale by the roadside. efforts of the brave whites, they strove, with all the brutality of fiends, to complete their deadly work. At length, the numbers of the valiant youths was reduced to a solitary few; when the foremost of these on turning to animate his comrades, saw himself supported by seven only of his associates. These, finding all efforts of victory hopeless, and that longer warfare would but add to the scalps of the victors, dashed their weapons in the face of the foe, and attempted to escape. The two who stood last in this unequal contest, the most athletick of the chivalrous corps-bounding over the slain, took a direction to ward the Deerfield river, followed by two hundred Indians, hurling with almost deadly precision, their arrows and hatchets. The whizzing of the missiles urged the powerful remnant to their utmost speed. One of these, plunging into the stream, vainly attempted to reach its opposite bank; pierced by the arrows of the savages, he sunk lifeless to its bottom, while the other running along the shore, screened by the under-brush on its banks, silently sunk into the water. Here, amid a thick and dark cluster of weeds and bushes, he supported himself by the trunk of an old tree lying on the edge of the stream, with his face sufficiently elevated to admit of respiration, until the Indians had relinquished their search for him, continually hearing near him their hasty tramp and fearful yells of disappointment. When all was still, and during the darkness of night, he swam across the river; and, stiff and cold, began his march for Hadley, where he arrived on the following day, the last and only living witness, as tradition says, of the battle of Bloody Brook. Reader, this youth was the writer's grandfather. bed in his venerable age, thus presented themselves to my mind, a short time since, on that consecrated spot, to which neither history nor tradition has yet done justice. N. Y. Knickerbocker. THE ARMY IN THE FIELD. BY LIEUTENANT G. W. PATTON, U. ■. A. I NEVER see a shadowy plume But I think of ye, my gallant braves, Is it not a little curious, among the phenomena of mind, to mark the effect of external objects in recalling long-lost impressions. While standing on the spot thus hallowed by deeds of bravery, and while dwelling on the scenes which the imagination was picturing before me, I was all at once overwhelmed, as if by a sudden rush of light from the darkness of the past. Circumstances, localities-the realities in all the vividness with which they were related to me, when but eight years of age, by my grandsirestarted fresh into life. More than thirty years have elapsed since memory recalled one of those impressions, and yet every word that was dropped from the lips of that venerated man-his actions-his very look, while relating to me the affray at Bloody Brook," came back upon me more freshly than a dream of yesternight. Every incident of that sanguinary fight, than which none in the history of our country was more fatally decisive, came up from the abyss of time, with all the vigour and clearness of present vision. He was then but eighteen years of age of powerful mould, and great and muscular Returning to the spot which history has so justly activity. The thrilling particulars which he descridesignated as "Bloody Brook," the barbarous enemy, on completing their destruction of life, began that of the dead. The busy scalping-knife, was doing its frightful office, and the naked heads, severed from their lifeless trunks, were dancing high in the air, on points of poles. The sickening sight made the less savage foe revolt. Death had not done its last kind duties, when this infernal sport commenced. The convulsive throb still showed the struggle between life and death. The spouting blood, still warm with life, was seen to gush forth from the gaping wounds, and, trickling along the green sward, find a repository in the gurgling brook near by. The gory rills were fast purpling the little stream, and transporting the red tide down to oblivion-the richest flood that ever rivulet bore. All around was horrour, torture, and death; when suddenly appeared, on the crown of the hill, a large company of white men, who had come from Greenfield with all possible haste to the succour of their brethren. But, alas! it was too late! The scene we have described was presented instead. Filled with rage and madness, this furious band rushed down the hill upon the brutal force, yet floating in blood, and falling like lions among them, made terrible havock. Alarmed at this unexpected assault, the savages sprang, with fear and desperate fleetness from the scene, striving only to escape the death their barbarity so justly merited. But full many a warriour fell by the strong arm of the vengeful white man. Flight alone saved the few remaining enemy. A sad duty now devolved on the final victors. They dug on the spot the sepulchre which to this day, contains the commingling dust of their youthful brethren, and over its mouth is to be seen a smooth flat stone, the only humble testimonial of posterity. Yes, there by the side of the road leading from the pretty villages we have mentioned, and near the little brook destined to give immortality to the event, may the curious traveller, as he passes through the green fields of the Connecticut valley, see the mound which designates the place where fought and sleep the unhonoured brave. Peace to thy manes, heroick youths! Thy country's history shall preserve thy memory. I never hear the pipe's shrill notes, But I see your serried columns form 1 A lengthen'd trail ye thrid, my braves; Thro' hammock, and thro' everglades, Your homestead is the wilderness, And the musick which ye love the most, They little know, who lightly dwell, The task and toil, Oh! weary ones, To hunt the footsteps of the fierce; To scorch beneath the vernal sun, To scare the vulture from his feast To sink amid the mazy wood, With the homeward path effaced. "Tis yours to scorn what few deride : Like the torrent and the storm. To dream of smiles far, far away, |