and they devote themselves to the destruction
of the murderous race.

The little child strays outside the cottage of her parent--fresh as the
morning, and warmed with the hilarity of young life: a shriek is heard
to succeed quickly the loud laugh of pleasure. The mother rushes
forward; sees a black boy fleeing in the distance, and then beholds the
victim of his malice: she draws forth the spear, and her child is dead.

The settler, now grown rich by his flocks and tillage, looks forward to
the enjoyment of his opulence in domestic happiness. The companion of
his early labors and privations forms the chief object in the picture;
but while he was dreaming of future bliss, the envious eye of a savage,
which had recognised in that prosperous homestead a station of his
fathers, had glanced over and blighted all.

Those who were compelled to travel from home, left their families the
prey to inexpressible anxiety. Every moment of delay awakened new
forebodings. Often would the settler see his wife and children, on some
prominent spot, the subjects of fears which required no interpreter,
shading the eyes in the attitude of earnest attention; and when they
caught the first glimpse of his approach, the rushing together, and
marks of gratulation, indicated the gladness of watchers, whose painful
task is done. To appear in safety, was a new though daily deliverance.

But if such were the fears at home, the traveller himself was not free
from perturbation. He would neglect the common dangers of a rocky
descent, and "sidling" way, to guard against perils far more dreaded: he
would often pause, to listen; the moving of the leaf, would terrify him.
He would hear a rush--it was but the cattle: he would gaze steadfastly
at some black substance far off, until convinced that it was the stock
of a tree; then reproaching his fears, he would gallop on rapidly--then
moving round some overhanging rock, he would see savage faces and poised
spears! Retreat is now impossible: he spurs his horse, which seems
almost to be conscious of danger, and perhaps reaches his home exhausted
with fatigue and dread; happy, however, to have been once more
preserved.

Nor is it possible to describe the emotions which were wrought up, by
the consciousness that a feeble woman and helpless children were exposed
to the clubs and spears of the savage. Men know, when they pass their
threshold, that the ties of life are uncertain, and that desolation may
blast wha