"I came to this place from New Haven in '29," its owner told
us--"sailed from New York to Darien, Georgia, in a sloop, and from
there in a sail-boat to this very spot. I prospected all about: bought
a little pony, and rode him--well, five thousand miles after I began to
keep count. Finally, I came back and settled here."
"Were you never troubled by Indians?" we asked.
"Well, they put a fort here in the Indian war, the government
did--right here, where you see the china trees." It was a beautiful
green slope beside the house, with five great pride-of-Indias in a row
and a glimpse of the creek through the thickets at the foot. "There
never was any engagement here, though. The Indians had a camp over
there at K----'s, where you came from, but they all went away to the
Nation after a while."
"Did you stay here through the civil war?"
"Oh yes. I never took any part in the troubles, but the folks all
suspected and watched me. They knew I was a Union man. One day a
Federal regiment came along and wanted to buy corn and fodder. The men
drew up on the green, and the colonel rode up to the door. 'Colonel,'
says I, 'I can't _sell_ you anything, but I believe the keys are in the
corn-barn and stable doors: I can't hinder your taking anything by
force.
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