THE ROUTE OF DE SOTO. Among the followers of Pizarro, in his Peruvian campaign, was Hernando De Soto, a Spanish gentleman of high birth and great wealth, the latter principally achieved upon this expedition. Returning to Spain, De Soto could not rest quietly upon his wealth and laurels, but, having interest at the Court, had his request to Charles V. granted, making him governor of Cuba and Florida, the last of which be was to conquer and add to the colonies of Spain, at his own cost. On the 6th of April, 1538, there sailed from the port of San Lucar, of Barrimeda, a grand armament, in which was invested all the wealth of De Soto and his followers, many of whom, like himself, had achieved riches in former expeditions. With bands playing and streamers flying, they sailed out from the harbour, and bore away for Cuba, where they remained long enough to make all arrangements for the government of the isle during their absence, and then went onward to Florida, reaching the desired land, and casting anchor in a bay, which he named Espiritu Santo, but now known as Tampa Bay, in the month of May, 1539. On this spot, before untrodden by the foot of the white man, he landed six hundred and twenty men, two hundred and twenty-three of whom brought horses, and on the following first of June set forth upon his march to the interior. Never before in the history of fillibustering was such a sight seen. Over six hundred men, many of whom were gentlemen of education, refinement, and wealth, setting forth with a poetical enthusiasm to penetrate an unknown land, and carrying with them all the grandeur of materiel to which they had been accustomed in courtly Spain. With the clash of arms and armour were mingled the gay strains of music; the lowing of the cattle intended for stocking such parts of the country as they might conquer and colonize; the hoarse baying of the bloodhounds, to hunt down the opposers of their progress; and over all, the tolling bell and loud prayers of the monks, who were to shed Christianity over the minds of the pagan captives. Notwithstanding all the show of arms and offensive demonstration, there is good authority for believing that Hernando De Soto started with pacific intention. He held certain enthusiastic ideas of civilizing the natives of the soil, and adding almost a continent to Spain, and wealth almost undreamed of to his own future; but the Indians, true to their traditions, refused conciliation, and impeded his march by every possible means. He bent his course to the north-east from Tampa, towards the spot where now stands Fort King. Near this point he met with a Spaniard, Juan Ortis, who had twelve years before been left upon the coast by Pamphilo de Narvaez, and, having been captured by the natives, was carried into captivity. This man was a valuable addition to the party; he having learned their language, could act as an interpreter. Up to the point where Fort King now stands they fought their way, sealing every step in the blood of their opposers, with little loss to themselves. They crossed the With-la-coochee and the Su-wa-nee, and then De Soto, finding it impossible to conciliate the people, commenced a war of devastation. He destroyed every native, and burned every dwelling, their occupants disdaining to ask for quarter. In this way he forced his course to what is now the Georgia border, when, from the tales of some of his captives, who related wondrous stories of yellow metal, he changed his course westward, bringing up finally on the Apalachee Bay. By this time, winter approaching, De Soto determined to remain at that spot until spring. He fortified himself, sent out exploring parties, discovered the harbour of Pensacola, built a vessel, dispatched it to Cuba for supplies, to be brought the following year to Pensacola, or Ochouse Bay, and on the 3rd of March, 1540, broke up his quarters, and started once more for the place pointed out by the natives, where he was to find gold, silver, pearls, and gems. Under this hope they marched with the enthusiasm of old, and, as of old, battling their way on, burning and slaying whatever opposed their progress. They journeyed up the western bank of the Flint River, crossing it into Georgia, and passing over the ground where now stands Macon and Milledgeville, and finally, after fearful perils, reached Cofachiqui, on the head waters of the Chattanooga, the land where they had expected to find these vast treasures, to see only an abundance of copper, as a reward for their toil and peril. The only treasure they did get was an abundance of fine pearls, but not enough to satisfy the cupidity that had brought them there. These pearls were obtained in great quantities from the streams flowing about the neighbourhood of Chattanooga, probably the Lookout and Chattanooga creeks, and the Chickamauga river. On the second of July they once more started upon their march, and before evening encamped by a village called Acoste. Here De Soto was met by their chief and fifteen hundred warriors, in a friendly spirit, which was almost immediately ended by some of the Spaniards attempting to pillage the houses. De Soto at once saw the overwhelming peril, and seizing a club, he rushed upon his own men, driving them before him out of the village. The act was taken by the chief as a proof of amity, and the difficulty was at once stilled, and he was invited to visit the encampment of the Spaniards. Once there, he was made captive, and held until the Indians patched messengers to hurry up the main body. He sent one of his officers for Tuscaluza, who refused to come; and a quarrel taking place between his messenger and some of the Indians, one of the latter was slain. This was the signal for action; and from every point the warriors sallied forth by hundreds and thousands, rushing upon the Spaniards with deadly ferocity. De Soto saw that he would be overpowered, and tried to escape from the town; but the onset was so fearful, that it was only through the most terrible slaughter that he succeeded; and even then his fate would have been sealed but for the arrival of his main body, who succeeded in repulsing the attackers, and driving them back into the city, but not until they had killed nearly all the horses of the Spaniards, and were successful in getting all their camp haggage and property. They now stormed the town, and though several times repulsed, and the most terrible sorties made upon them, they finally, by the aid of their battle-axes, forced the gates of the town and entered. Once inside, they made fearful work with the savages, mowing them down like grass, and driving them into their houses, which they set on fire. The Indians neither asked nor gave quarter, and Tuscaluza, among the rest, perished in the flames. Nine hours the terrible fight lasted; and when the night fell, it was upon the smouldering ruins of the once happy Indian town, with its squares and streets filled with reeking, blackened corpses. Six thousand of the Indians were killed, and about eighty of the Spaniards, while almost everyone of the latter was wounded; they also lost over forty of their horses, and all their baggage, which was burnt. sued for peace and ransomed their leader. The The effect of this terrible battle was to so depress the Spaniards, that they instantly wanted to return to the coast; but the indomitable resolution and pride of De Soto would not give way, and overruling all persuasion and advice, he determined to go on, and on the eighteenth of November he set out northward, until he reached the Black Warrior River. Here the Indians, to the number of eight thousand, took their stand on the opposite bank, to give battle; but upon the Spaniards crossing the river, they fled after a few slight skirmishes. Still onward went the expedition, until they arrived upon the Tombeekbee River, where the Indians made another stand, to dispute the passage, but finally offered no fight, The Spaniards having now arrived at a spot called by the Indians Chicaga, and it being the middle of December, De Soto determined to winter there, and, as a first step, drove out the natives and took possession of their town. At first they made no resistance; but watching their opportunity, they murdered the sentinels, and set fire to the town. Many of the Spaniards were slain and burnt to death; but finally they repulsed the Indians, and removed to a place called Chicacilla, where they remained until the first of April, when they once more marched northward, until they reached the Yazoo River, upon which was situated the strong Indian fort of Alibamo, signifying in the Muscogee tongue, "Here we rest." This they stormed and took, occupying it only for a few days, when they again took up their march to the north-west, until they came to the largest and most magnificent river they had ever seen. Its Indian name was Chicagua, but the Spaniards, with great ceremony, christened it Rio Grande. This was the mighty Mississippi, the monarch of rivers, and they were the first white men who had looked upon it. They crossed it just below where Memphis now stands, between the thirtyfourth and thirty-fifth parallels of latitude, and from that point struck south-west. For a year De Soto and his party wandered to-and-fro in that unknown land, battling with the natives, and enduring terrible hardships, the hardest of which was the disappointment of not finding gold or gems; and then, worn with fatigue, and broken-hearted, he reached once more the banks of the great river, hoping to depart from the country by its means; but on the twenty-first of May, 1542, yielding to a fierce fever, he gave up his life upon its banks, asking, as a last request, that he might be entombed in its waters-a request that was complied with by sinking the corpse in the bed of the stream. The survivors, under Luis De Moscoso, made an attempt to reach Mexico, but after six months' trial, were forced back to the Mississippi, where they built seven rude bragantines, in which they embarked, following the stream to its mouth, and the coast line to the Spanish town of Panuco, arriving on the tenth of September, 1543-four years and two months from the landing at Tampa Bay. They brought back three hundred and eleven men-a loss of three hundred and nine, as well as all their horses and wealth. And thus ended that wondrous expedition, which, as long as its record lasts, will be esteemed a miracle of poetry and romance, not equalled in any fiction or fancy. MORAL COURAGE. BY REV. F. S. CASSADY. "Not to the ensanguined field of death alone In the deliberate council; sagely scans The source of action; weighs, prevents, provides; The highest type of courage is moral courage. The heroism which dares and does amid the strife and perils of the battle-field is often sublime; but that which governs the moral character, and makes it a thing of beauty in the presence of the errors and disorders which deform human society, is sublimer. We have the highest authority for saying that self-conquest is the grandest of all human triumphs; for inspiration itself declares that "He that ruleth his own spirit is greater than he that taketh a city." Alexander took cities and won empire; but he lacked the moral conrage to conquer the appetites which conquered him. The great Macedonian monarch, with all his conquests, is not to be compared for a moment to that noble spirit who said, "I keep my body under subjection," and who arose from the crucifixion of himself, the sublime moral conqueror of the world! Truly "This is true courage; not the brutal force Of vulgar heroes, but the firm resolve Of virtue and of reason." True courage is chiefly moral in its quality. No one possesses it who has not a large substratum of principle in his or her character. Strong virtue is one of its essential elements. There is such a thing as wrong or evil in the world-a principle which, unfortunately for the best interests of humanity, has too large a development in human character; and no inconsiderable strength of personal virtue is necessary to resist and overcome its seductive influences. In this world of sin and selfishness there are not wanting motives which plead never so effectually with human nature against too rigid views of right and wrong in human conduct; indeed, there is so much that seems to associate our present interest with at least not too strict an observance of principle, that it requires no small sense of rectitude to pursue the straightforward path of duty and right. There was a world of wealth in that noble soul that felt in the silent depths of its own consciousness its own purity, and who therefore could say, "I'd rather be right than Emperor." Such is the moral sentiment of every true spi rit. Nothing is valuable, nothing desirable,, not the courage to be so-not the courage to take rational views of life. and, if necessary, be unlike the multitude in their enforcement in their lives and characters. A certain amount of independence of thought is necessary to a positive character. Without this there can be no individuality, no courage, no true enjoyment. Those who do not their own thinking, but get others to do it for them, are destitute of the essential element of real manhood or womanhood. We have individual minds that we may have individual thought and action; and he or she is the veriest coward who lacks the nerve to follow in his or her daily life the suggestion of reason, even though it lead to a conflict with the opinions and sentiments of others. The mind that dares to think for itself about matters and things-dares to approve this and condemn that has the true metal, the right quality. Such a mind will everywhere command respect for its independence and courage. In fact, one had better think wrong sometimes, if sincere, than not think at all, or not think independently. Beyond all doubt, which may not be acquired without the sacrifice of principle. He or she who is not brave enough to conquer the disposition or temptation to turn aside from the right way for a supposed interest -not strong enough to be just to the last degree in all the relations and duties of life-lacks the quality which makes the true man or woman. Virtue never surrenders, because it never changes; hence it can never accept any price that may be offered for wrong-doing. In fact, fear itself is one of the characteristics of true courage, genuine virtue-the fear to do wrong. This fear protects the character and interests of our neighbour as it guards our own. Ben Jonson has well said "Fear to do base, unworthy things, is valour; "He that made us with such large discourse, What else but a hero of the noblest type was "I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none.' Another element of real courage is vigorous reason, strong common-sense. Courage is not a blind, reckless something, that dares to do anything-not like "the unthinking steed rushing into battle;" but it is a thinking quality that looks closely into the nature and bearing of things before it acts. "The old proverb presupposes this, when it declares that discretion is often the better part of valour." The wise man, in showing the value of discretion in human conduct, its relation to our security and welfare, says: "A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself; but the simple pass on, and are punished." The chief function of reason touching life and its moral conduct is to avoid that which is injurious, and pursue that which is good. No one ever purposely sought the contravention of his or her own happiness; yet thousands, for the want of reflection and common sense, have robbed themselves of happiness. There are men and women everywhere who are not happy, simply because they have strong, independent thinker is the man of courage; he "dares to avow the courage of his sentiments" something which negative minds dare not do. Another quality of real courage is a determined will. Whatever elements enter into one's character, it is seriously defective if it have not decided power of will. Without this there can be no heroism, no courage. The men who have made names in the world-who have acquired distinction, wealth, and power—were and are men of will. Napoleon had never been Napoleon without that invincible will, which regarded nothing as impossible in the practicable world. Franklin had never been Franklin but for the indomitable will which conquered all opposition between him and his true niche in the world's history. Peabody had never acquired princely wealth without this unflagging, unyielding power of will. So with men in the roll of virtue's heroes. The Luthers, Calvins, and Wesleys, the Howards and Wilberforces, were all men of strong will. They made the world move in their day and times because they were men of courage and will. So it is today. The true man, the moral hero, has a will about him to conquer the oppositions and contrary elements of life. Nothing is too hard for a stout, brave-hearted will. Conquer it must! We conclude, therefore, that the elements of true courage are strong virtue, vigorous reason, and a determined will. These are the qualities of the true hero the world over. "No nation," we recollect poor Albert Smith to have said, "makes such a fuss about their 'tea-kettle' comforts as the English, and no people are so notoriously anxious to get away from them;" we would add that, after all, none are so anxious to return to them. Verily this is the undoubted opinion of one who, notwithstanding the absence of many of the domestic comforts aforesaid, might write himself down "Your Bohea-man," instead of adopting his ordinary nom de plume, were it not that his powers of word-torturing should be reserved for a maiden effort in burlesque, or for "comic copy." "Y. B." (not to repeat the offence) is once more back in town, and has fallen into the well-greased groove of London life. Though we confess there is something inexplicably galling in having again to don the chimney-pot hat of society and to assume the frock-coat of propriety, in place of the slouch hat, loose dégagé costume, and brown hands of sea-side life, it is nevertheless very pleasant to be back in our own rooms, there to be again surrounded by our own familiar "household gods," albeit presided over by a household goddess in the shape of a rather too familiar charwoman: it is a delightful sensation to have our books ready to hand, to be within hail of Hansoms and threepenny omnibuses, and, above all, to have once more comfortable writing-inaterials in lieu of that penny bottle of pale ink, and that unyielding skewery steel pen on the ricketty holder from the country grocer's, should we courageously essay our "Mems" whilst on our rambles. Once more have we returned to the great metropolis, to find it settling down to its winter season in good earnest. Everyone is back save a few erratic stragglers, the glorious weather (never was there such a September known within the memory of man) has at last changed, and become what the grumblers call "seasonable if not reasonable," and the long evenings have set in with unexampled severity. We hear the tinkle of that dreadful muffin-bellsure harbinger of the approach of a Londoner's winter; the cattle-show and our bucolic countrycousins will be with us ere long. We begin to hear rumours of the pantomimes (for one of which the great Chang should at once offer his services), and to have unpleasant visions of Christmas-boxes and Christmas-bills. We are seated at our desk with the pleasant recollection of the glorious "blue unclouded" at Ryde; of a snug little dinner, in the best of company, at Sandown; of the beauties of the Landslip and Undercliff; of the three graces by the name of Cass, at the Crab and Lobster at Ventnor; and of our exultation when (a "jolly dog" in spite of our aversion to Musichall jolly dog-ism in general, and "the great" Vance in particular) we exclaimed, “ Black-gang, MONTH. here we are again!" At Ryde there has been a succession of "stars" at the little theatre so well conducted by its present manager, Mr. Wybert Reeve, during a three months' season; Misses Amy Sedgwick, Herbert, and Kate Saville rapidly following each other, the latter actress creating a great impression as Rebecca in another version of "Leah"-a character in which we hope she will be seen in London. During our sojourn Tom Thumb and party visited the island, and must have made heaps of money. Alas! to see St. Lawrence's Well, of pleasant memory, we must now run the risk of being turned out of the private grounds by the Countess of Yarborough's domestics, as the well has been enclosed within two gates bearing the ominous words "No Thoroughfare," and a new coach-road has been made: however, this did not deter us, and we defied the authorities, to find that neither was it permitted us to drink from the refreshing spring as of old. We have visited the heart of the hop-picking country, and found Tenterden a quiet out-of-the-way place, where, at a quaint old house-Finchden by name-we were the guest of the authoress of "Rambles in the South of Ireland," and could enjoy our otium cum-croquet to our heart's content. We have now, in fewer words, given our readers quite as much as they will care to wade through, in the entertaining style of the "Flaneur" of the Morning Star, who, by the way, has ingeniously let out that he is one of the "Men of the Time," at least he says the author of "Broken to Harness" is, which is much the same thing, and which will doubtless raise him immensely in public estimation. How our friend contrives to go out of his way to sneer at people! for instance, when at the Lord Warden he finds a striking resemblance, in the head waiter to Mr. William Farren, and on that account can hardly refrain from shaking hands with him (the waiter). What necessity was there for the remark, which is a gratuitous piece of impertinence? However the "Flaneur" has long since established his claim to a first-class medal for his constant exhibition of impudence and bad taste. If it were not for Mr. Ruskin, the Fenians (who, by the way, appear to be chiefly composed of tailors and tinkers), and the cattle-disease, what would have become of the newspapers? Apropos of the prevailing "rinderpest," or (in plainer language) cattle-murrain, it is an illwind that does not blow somebody good, inasmuch as we observe that "a beautifully-executed chromolithograph of the head of a diseased animal drawn from nature can be sent, postfree, on receipt of thirty stamps" (see Times advertisement). Sir Bulwer Lytton protests against the absurdity of killing all the cattle |