FLORIDA CEDED TO THE UNITED STATES.--ATTEMPT OF THE SPANISH
GOVERNOR TO CARRY AWAY THE RECORDS.--DESCRIPTION OF ST. AUGUSTINE
WHEN TRANSFERRED.--POPULATION IN 1830.--TOWN DURING THE INDIAN
WAR.--OSCEOLA AND COA-COU-CHE.--A TRUE ACCOUNT OF THE DUNGEON IN
THE OLD FORT, AND THE IRON CAGES.--THE INDIANS BROUGHT TO ST.
AUGUSTINE IN 1875.
East Florida was delivered by Governor Coppinger to Lieut. Rob. Butler,
U. S. A., on the 10th of July, 1821. It had been intended to have the
transfer take place on the anniversary of the declaration of American
Independence; but the Spaniards, feeling no particular regard for the
4th of July, made no efforts to hasten the settlement of the
preliminaries, and were therefore unprepared to turn over the province
until the tenth of the month.
On the 30th of March, 1822, Congress passed an act incorporating into a
territory the two Floridas, and authorizing a legislative council and a
superior court, which were to meet alternately at Pensacola and St.
Augustine. William P. Duval was appointed the first governor, to hold
his office for three years. It is an interesting fact that among those
who were saved with Laudonnère at the massacre of the French Huguenots
was one “Francis Duval of Rouen, son of him of the Iron Crown of Rouen.”
General Jackson had been compelled to imprison the Spanish governor of
West Florida for refusing to deliver certain papers that were considered
indispensable. Fearing that the attempt would be made by the Governor
of East Florida to carry away papers which should be delivered with the
territory, General Jackson sent Captain J. R. Hanham from Pensacola to
demand such papers and records as properly belonged to the Americans
after the change of flags. Captain Hanham made the journey across the
State--a distance of 600 miles--in seventeen days. He arrived none too
soon, as the vessel was then in the harbor upon which it was intended to
send papers and archives sufficient to fill eleven large boxes. After
Governor Coppinger had refused to deliver these, Captain Hanham forced a
room in the government house and seized the boxes, which had already
been packed with the papers ready for shipment. Other valuable papers
were shipped and lost on the passage to Havana, some say destroyed by
pirates, others by the wreck of the vessel.
In 1823 St. Augustine witnessed for the second time the assembly of a
legislative body, the second session of the territorial council being
held that year in the government house. In the same year a treaty was
concluded at Moultrie Creek, seven miles south of the city, with the
Indian tribes of Florida, in which they agreed to surrender all their
lands in the territory. It is needless to say that this treaty was never
executed.
Forbes’s “Sketches,” published the year of the cession, gives an
interesting account of the condition of St. Augustine at the end of the
Spanish possession. It is related in these words: “The town, built in
Spanish manner, forms an oblong square, or parallelogram; the streets
are regularly laid out, but the buildings have not been put up to
conform strictly to that rule. The streets are generally so narrow as to
admit with difficulty carriages to pass each other. To make up for this
inconvenience they have a terrace foundation, and, being shaded, renders
the walking very agreeable. The houses are built generally of a
freestone peculiar to the country, which, with the aid of an outer coat
of plaster, has a handsome and durable effect. They are only two stories
high, thick walls with spacious entries, large doors, windows, and
balconies, and a garden lot to each, more commonly stocked with orange
and fig trees, interspersed with grape-vines and flowers. On entering
this old town from the sea, the grandeur of the Castle of Fort St.
Mark’s presents itself, and imposes a degree of respect upon travelers
upon seeing a fort forty feet high, in the modern taste of military
architecture, commanding the entrance. The works are bronzed and
squamated by age, but will, with some American ingenuity, be justly
deemed one of the handsomest in the western hemisphere. It mounts sixty
guns of twenty-four pounds, of which sixteen are bronze, and is
calculated to contain one thousand men for action; with which, and the
courage such a fort should inspire, it is capable of a noble defense,
having in old times resisted some formidable attacks. It is not liable
to be shattered by balls, nor does it expose its defenders to the fatal
effects of storms [stormings]. From the castle, southward, are the
remains of a stone wall trenching its glacis, built to prevent the
incroachment of the sea; along this is a very pleasant walk as far as
the market-place, which is opposite the old Government House in the
center of the town, and separated from it by an oblong square called the
parade, on which there is a Roman Catholic church of modern construction
and quite ornamental. In front of this there formerly stood a handsome
and spacious edifice, built in modern style by Lieut.-Governor Moultrie
for a State-house, which was not completed. For want of an exterior coat
of plaster it has crumbled to pieces, leaving not a single vestige of
its former splendor.
“The old Government House, now much decayed, is occupied as a barrack
for the Royal Artillery. It leaves the marks of a heavy pile of
buildings in the Spanish style, having balconies in front, galleries and
areas on both sides, with several irregular additions well contrived for
the climate. Among these was an outlook built by Governor Grant, on the
western summit of the main building, which commanded a full view of the
sea-coast and surrounding country. The garden attached to the Government
House is surrounded by a stone wall; it was formerly laid out with great
taste, and stocked with most of the exotic and indigenous plants common
to the tropics and the Middle States, such as the pomegranate, plantain,
pineapple, papau, olive, and sugar-cane. The orange and lemon trees here
grow to large size, and produce better fruit than they do in Spain and
Portugal.
“From the square environed by orange trees the streets extend
southwardly to some stone buildings, one of which was formerly a
Franciscan convent, now converted into a jail, but under the British was
used as barracks. In addition they constructed the very large and
handsome buildings, four stories high, of wood, with materials brought
from New York and intended for Pensacola, but detained by Governor
Grant. These barracks at the southern extremity of the peninsula in
which the town is built formed an elegant appendage to it, but were
burned and now exhibit only the stack of chimneys. In a course westward
from these vestiges of royalty are streets leading to a bridge formerly
of wood but now of stone, crossing a small creek running parallel with
the sea, on the east side, and St. Sebastian on the west. Over this are
several valuable and highly improved orange groves and several redoubts,
forming the south and western lines of fortification. Near the bridge,
in the same street as the Government House, is the burying-ground of
the Protestants, where stood an Episcopal church with a handsome
steeple, not a vestige of which remains.
“Before the entrance of some of the houses built by the Spaniards rises
a portico of stone arches, the roofs of which are commonly flat. There
are nearly one thousand houses of all descriptions in the town, which is
about three-quarters of a mile in length by one-quarter in breadth. As
it is built upon a point of land it is in some degree insulated by the
conflux of Matanzas River and St. Sebastian Creek, by which means the
egress by land must be by the northern gates, and by a bridge and
causeway in a western direction. The whole forms a very picturesque
piece of scenery, being surrounded by orange groves and kitchen gardens.
Within the first line [of redoubts upon the north] was a small
settlement of Germans, with a church of their own, on St. Mark’s River:
within the same was an Indian town, with a church also; but it must be
regretted that nothing of these remains, as they serve if not as temples
certainly as ornamental relics.
“The governor has given the land belonging to this township as glebe
land to the parish church, which will no doubt be confirmed by the
American Government in its liberal appropriations for religious
purposes. The harbor of St. Augustine would be one of the best in the
world were it not for the bar, which admits vessels drawing not more
than six feet with safety. It is surrounded by breakers which are not as
dangerous as they appear. There is a roadstead on the north side of the
bar with good anchorage for vessels drawing too much water to enter the
harbor. [A part of Anastatia Island] is known as Fish’s Island, and from
the hospitality of Mr. Jesse Fish, one of the oldest inhabitants of the
province, is remarkable for the date and olive trees, the flavor of the
oranges, and the cultivation of his garden.”[32]
The location of the Protestant cemetery as here described is confusing,
being located near “this bridge, in the same street as the Government
House.” Probably the text should read, in the same street as the Convent
House, which would place the Episcopal church and cemetery near the
southern end of St. George Street.
Another account, published about the same period as Forbes’s, gives the
following picture of the town: “Somewhat more than half way between the
fort and the south end of the western peninsula a stone causeway and
wooden bridge crosses Mari-Sanchez (Santa Maria) Creek, and connects the
two portions or precincts of the town. It is to the north of this
causeway that the principal part of the buildings are placed, forming a
parallelogram somewhat more than a quarter of a mile wide from east to
west, and three-quarters in length from north to south. The neck of land
(on which the town is built) is divided into two peninsulas by
Mari-Sanchez (Santa Maria) Creek, running parallel to the harbor, but
heading in some low lands within the lines. It is on the eastern
peninsula alone that the town is built, the western one being occupied
by kitchen gardens, corn fields, orange groves, and pasture grounds. The
houses on the side of the harbor are chiefly of stone, having only one
story above the ground floor: these latter are invariably laid with a
coat of tabia, a mixture of sand and shells, and are scarcely ever used
but as store rooms, the families living in the upper stories.[33]
“The dwellings on the back streets with few exceptions, particularly in
the north-west quarter, have but the ground floor, and are generally
built of wood, though stone ones are common, but almost all are laid
with tabia flooring.”[34]
At the census of 1830 St. Augustine and environs contained four thousand
inhabitants, of whom eight hundred and forty-four were free blacks. The
large number of free persons of color is accounted for by the fact that
St. Augustine under the Spanish had been an asylum for all the runaway
slaves from the neighboring colonies. They had been formed into a
military company, and after the “patriot war” of 1812 to 1816 lands had
been donated to them for their services. It was also said that those
born in the province were registered from their birth, and a severe
penalty imposed upon any master of a vessel who should attempt to carry
any of them away.
In 1822 an attempt was made to deprive the Roman Catholics of the
cathedral. A petition of the inhabitants was thereupon presented to
Congress, and that body passed an act on February 8, 1827, granting and
confirming to the Catholic society of St. Augustine the building and
grounds where they now worship.
In 1821 Rev. Andrew Fowler, a missionary from Charleston, South
Carolina, organized the present Episcopal parish. The corner-stone of
the present church edifice was laid by the Rev. Edward Phillips on the
23d of June, 1825, and the building was consecrated by Bishop Bowen of
South Carolina in the year 1833. The church is a small and plain
structure, but in very good taste, and ornamented with a steeple. It is
built of coquina, and from its location fronting the plaza, is one of
the most noticeable buildings in the city.
The Presbyterian church, though built later, 1830, has a less modern
appearance. This church, which was fitted in quite the old-fashioned
style, with high-backed pews facing the entrance doors between which was
the pulpit, underwent a remodeling of the interior in 1879.
By act of Congress dated March 30, 1823, East and West Florida were
united as one territory. Florida was admitted into the Union as a State,
March 3d, 1845.
In 1830 there was quite a spirit of speculation rife in the old city. A
canal into the St. Johns River and another between the Halifax and
Matanzas rivers, also a railway to Picolata were projected, and sanguine
people fully expected to see these projects completed immediately. To
this day the railway alone has been completed, and is barely able to pay
a dividend to its stockholders with a tariff of two dollars for a
carriage of fifteen miles. All the other projects are still being talked
of.
One of the bubbles of the speculation of this period was a new and large
city to be built north of the fort. Peter Sken Smith, a gentleman of
some means, erected the frame of a large hotel on grounds outside of the
city gate, and there were also built there several houses and stores, a
market, and a wharf. Judge Douglass, the first judge of the territory,
entered largely into the business of raising the silk-worm. He set out a
large number of mulberry trees and built a large building on his
plantation called Macarasi, or more commonly Macariz, situated just
beyond the end of the shell road, which gave to the place the general
appellation of the “Cocoonery.” Judge Douglass has been ridiculed for
yielding to the “silk-growing fever,” but the enterprise which was so
disastrous to him and others will one day become a lucrative business
for many in the mild climate of Florida.
The large and handsome residence on the lot adjoining the Episcopal
church, now owned by L. H. Tyler, Esq., was built by Peter Sken Smith,
in 1833. The artisans and much of the materials were brought from the
North, and the sum of forty thousand dollars was said to have been
invested on the house and furniture. Shortly after the house was for
sale at less than two thousand dollars.
The plaza was inclosed about this time, and the cannon placed at the
corners. The old guns yet to be seen about the city were used by several
private citizens to ornament the corners of the streets upon which their
lots fronted. In a cut published thirty years ago showing the plaza,
etc., the date-palms in Mr. Tyler’s yard appear to reach to an altitude
almost the same as at present, showing the extreme slowness of their
upward growth.
St. Augustine, immediately after it came under the jurisdiction of the
United States, began to receive a most desirable addition to its
population in a class of Americans of culture and means, who had long
desired to avail themselves of the benefits and delights of its climate,
but had hesitated about becoming citizens of the place under Spanish
rule. I have heard old citizens say that there was no town of its size
in the country where there were so many persons of refined tastes and
independent means as in St. Augustine at that time. The Indian war soon
after brought to St. Augustine a large addition to its population. This
consisted mostly of the military, both regulars and militia, of Florida
and the neighboring States, and the many officers, agents, and attachés
of the government. It was the government headquarters and a depot of
supplies, and for a season was full of bustle, excitement, and more
activity than it has ever experienced since.
The incidents of that war would be out of place in a history of St.
Augustine. Two of the principal characters of that exciting time were,
however, brought to St. Augustine, and, with about three hundred other
Creeks and Seminoles, confined in Fort Marion. Osceola, a young chief of
the Mickasookie tribe, of great daring, considerable education, and
great natural abilities, inherited with the Caucasian blood derived from
his father, was for some time confined at St. Augustine, and afterwards
removed to Fort Moultrie, in Charleston Harbor, where his body is now
buried. Though captured through a base trick, Osceola had, through a
sullen sense of honor, refused to escape from Fort Marion with Wild Cat.
It was said that he died of a broken heart when he learned the fate of
his nation, and the intention of the government to remove the remnant of
the Seminoles west of the Mississippi.
The casemate in the south-west bastion of the fort has been rendered
famous by the escape of a body of Indians, including the famous
Coa-cou-che. This Indian, also called Wild Cat, was the youngest son of
Philip, a great chief among the Seminoles. He was a man of great
courage, of an adventurous disposition, and savage nature, lacking the
intellectual abilities of Osceola, but possessing great influence among
his nation. Like most of the young chiefs, he was bitterly opposed to
the execution of the treaty signed by the older chiefs, by which the
Seminoles agreed to remove west of the Mississippi. At an interview
immediately before the breaking out of hostilities, Colonel Harney
observed to him that unless the Seminoles removed according to the
treaty the whites would exterminate them. To this Coa-cou-che replied,
that Iste-chatte (the Indian) did not understand that word. The Great
Spirit he knew might exterminate them, but the pale-faces could not;
else, why had they not done it before?
During the war this young chief was captured and placed under guard in
Fort Marion. It is reported that he was at first confined in one of the
close cells, and, in order to be removed to a casemate which had an
embrasure through which he had planned to escape, he complained of the
dampness of his cell and feigned sickness. This, like many other
incidents connected with his escape, is probably fictitious. There were
at the time a considerable number of Indians confined in the fort, and
unless they showed themselves querulous and dangerous, they were all
allowed the freedom of the court during the day, and confined at night
in the several casemates. It is probable that Coa-cou-che chose the
casemate in the south-west bastion from which to make his escape,
because of a platform which is in that casemate. This platform is raised
some five feet from the floor, and built of masonry directly under the
embrasure through which he escaped. This opening had been constructed
high up in the outer wall of the casemate to admit light and air. It is
thirteen feet above the floor, and eight feet above the platform, which
had probably been constructed for the convenience and dignity of the
judges, who doubtless used this casemate as a judgment room. The
aperture is about two feet high by nine inches wide, and some eighteen
feet above the surface of the ground at the foot of the wall within the
moat. It is said that as he took his airing upon the terre-plein the
evening before his escape, Coa-cou-che lingered longer than usual,
gazing far out into the west as the sun went down, probably thinking
that ere another sunset he would be beyond the limit of his farthest
vision, enjoying the freedom of his native forests. That night he
squeezed his body, said to have been attenuated by voluntary abstinence
from food, through the embrasure in the wall, and silently dropped into
the moat at the foot of the bastion. The moat was dry, and the station
of every guard was well known to the Indian, so that escape was no
longer difficult. Coa-cou-che immediately joined his nation, but was
afterwards captured and sent west. He was recalled by General Worth, and
used to secure the submission of his tribe. General Worth declared to
him that if his people were not at Tampa on a certain day he would hang
from the yard of the vessel on which he had returned, and was then
confined. This message he was ordered to send to his people by Indian
runners furnished by the general. He was directed to deliver to the
messengers twenty twigs, one for each day, and to make it known to his
people that when the last twig in the hands of the messenger was broken,
so would the cords which bound his life to earth be snapped asunder
unless they were all at the general’s camp prepared to depart to the
reservation provided for them at the west. The struggle in the mind of
Coa-cou-che was severe, but his love of life was strong. He sent by the
messenger his entreaties that his people should appear at the time and
place designated, and take up their abode in the prairies of the west.
Desiring to impress upon his people that this was the will of the Great
Spirit, with consummate policy he directed the messenger to relate to
them this, Coa-cou-che’s dream: “The day and manner of my death are
given out so that whatever I may encounter, I fear nothing. The spirits
of the Seminoles protect me; and the spirit of my twin-sister who died
many years ago watches over me; when I am laid in the earth I shall go
to live with her. She died suddenly. I was out hunting, and when seated
by my campfire alone I heard a strange noise--a voice that told me to go
to her. The camp was some distance off, but I took my wife and started.
The night was dark and gloomy; the wolves howled about me. I went from
hommock to hommock, sounds came often to my ear. I thought she was
speaking to me. At daylight I reached the camp, but she was dead. I sat
down alone under the long gray moss of the trees, when I heard strange
sounds again. I felt myself moving, and went along into a new country
where all was bright and beautiful. I saw clear water ponds, rivers, and
prairies upon which the sun never set. All was green; the grass grew
high, and the deer stood in the midst looking at me. I then saw a small
white cloud approaching, and when just before me, out of it came my
twin-sister dressed in white, and covered with bright silver ornaments.
Her long black hair which I had often braided fell down upon her back.
She clasped me around the neck and said, ‘Coa-cou-che, Coa-cou-che.’ I
shook with fear; I knew her voice, but could not speak. With one hand
she gave me a string of white beads; in the other she held a cup
sparkling with pure water; as I drank she sang the peace song of the
Seminoles, and danced around me. She had silver bells upon her feet
which made a loud sweet noise. Taking from her bosom something, she laid
it before me, when a bright blaze streamed above us. She took me by the
hand and said, ‘All is peace.’ I wanted to ask for others, but she shook
her head, stepped into the cloud, and was gone. All was silent. I felt
myself sinking until I reached the earth when I met my brother,
Chilka.”[35]
Coa-cou-che’s appeal was successful. The messengers returned with the
whole remnant of the tribe three days before the expiration of the time.
They all embarked and took up their residence on the prairies, where the
sun never sets and the grass grows high. It was not a field in which
Coa-cou-che could distinguish himself, and from this time his name was
never heard, except in connection with his past exploits in Florida.
Soon after the United States took possession of St. Augustine, the
government began to make extensive improvements in and about the town.
The barracks were immediately remodeled, and built as they are at
present. The fort, which had become much dilapidated, was repaired and
fitted for a garrison. It was while this work was being prosecuted that
the cell under the north-east bastion was discovered, which has ever
since been associated with the Huguenot massacre and the Spanish
Inquisition, in annual editions of guide-books and tourists’ letters. It
is constantly designated as “the Dungeon,” and, lest I should not be
understood in referring to it as a cell, I shall also call it a dungeon,
in explaining how it was found and what it did not contain. For some
reason unexplained by any record left by the Spaniards, the terre-plein,
near the north-east bastion, had been built upon large wooden beams. At
the time the Americans took possession of the fort they found the last
casemate, fronting on the court on the east side, filled with the
coquina floor of the terre-plein, which had fallen in, as the timbers
supporting it had rotted. Naturally, this half-filled casemate had
become the place of deposit for all rubbish accumulated upon any part of
the works. In the course of repairs the rubbish was cleared out of the
casemate, and the entrance into the adjoining cell exposed. Entering
this cell, and examining the masonry for anticipated repairs, the
engineer in charge, said to be Lieutenant Tuttle, U. S. A., discovered a
newness of appearance about a small portion of the masonry of the north
wall. Under his instruction a mason cut out this newer stone-work and
found that the small arch, under which those who now enter the “dungeon”
crawl, had been walled up. Why the entrance had thus been filled with
masonry is unknown, but it is extremely unlikely that it was done to
insure the perpetual captivity and death of a human being. The engineer
and mason entered the cell, and made an examination of the interior with
the light of a candle. Near the entrance were the remains of a fire, the
ashes and bits of pine wood burned off toward the center of the pile in
which they had been consumed. Upon the side of the cell was a rusty
staple, with about three links of chain attached thereto. Near the wall,
on the west side of the cell, were a few bones. Finding these very
rotten, and crumbling to pieces under his touch, the engineer spread his
handkerchief upon the floor and brushed very gently the few fragments of
bone into it. These were shown the surgeon then stationed at the post,
who said they might be human bones, but were so badly crumbled and
decayed he could not determine definitely. Nothing else was found in the
cell.[36] The iron cages, which have been described as a part of the
fixtures of this terrible dungeon, and which it has been said contained
human bones, appear upon the united testimony of old inhabitants to have
been found outside of the city gates entirely empty. It is said that, in
1822, a Mr. Deever, a butcher, while digging post holes on the grounds
opposite to those now owned by Mr. Kingsland, just north of the city
gates, came upon the cages and dug them up. One of them was made use of
in his workshop by Mr. Bartolo Oliveros, a locksmith. The other one was
allowed by Mr. Deever to lie near the city gate until it was
appropriated by some unknown party. The cages are described as having
had much the shape of a coffin; and the tradition is, that a human
being had been placed in each, the solid bands of iron riveted about his
body, and, after life had been extinguished by the horrible torture of
starvation, cages and corpses had been buried in the “scrub” then
covering the ground north of the gate. Doubtless these cages were used
for the punishment of criminals condemned for some heinous crime; but
whether they were introduced by the Spaniards or English is not known.
An old gentleman, Mr. Christobal Bravo, tells me his mother has related
to him that she had seen, during the English possession, these cages, or
similar ones, suspended at the gates of the city, with criminals
incarcerated therein. In the face of the facts it is feared that St.
Augustine must lose much of the romance and melancholy interest excited
by the stories of Spanish cruelty and torture. It is very probable that
this inner cell at the fort was used as a place of confinement for
criminals, and it is possible that some may have died therein. In fact,
it was so reported and generally believed at the time the poet Bryant
visited St. Augustine in 1843. Fairbanks, on page 157 of his “History
and Antiquities of St. Augustine,” published in 1858, refers to the
instruments of torture and skeletons walled in the old fort.
The account, as recited by the “Old Sergeant,” Mr. McGuire,
ordnance-sergeant, U. S. A., gives the current legend connected with the
dungeon. The sergeant alone can do justice to the narrative, in presence
of an appreciative audience clustered around his smoking torch under the
vaulted arch of the grim, damp cell. No pen can transcribe the
sergeant’s Irish brogue, or his periods, his tones, and his inimitable
expression of countenance, which seems to evince a combination of honest
doubt and wishful credence in the melancholy tale of Spanish barbarity,
which has proved so remunerative to himself, and so acceptable to the
novelty hunting tourist. While the sergeant’s lamp holds out to burn, no
visitor to St. Augustine should fail to hear his tale, “Just as it was
told to me,” as he is particular to explain.
In the spring of 1875 a body of Comanche, Kiowa, and Cheyenne chiefs
were removed from the West by order of the government, and sent to St.
Augustine. These Indians were, at first, confined within the old fort,
under a guard furnished from the post at St. Francis Barracks. They had
been sent under the charge of Captain Pratt, of the Tenth U. S. Cavalry.
The selection of this officer was a most fortunate choice. Through his
indubitable faith in the possibility of developing the better nature of
the Indian, together with his unwearied perseverance under difficulties
that none but a missionary among the depraved races of men can realize,
by his great tact and his patience he succeeded in demonstrating that,
by proper methods and efforts, the Indian problem is capable of a
satisfactory solution. Under the system adopted by Captain Pratt the
guard was soon dispensed with, and the Indians treated very much as if
they were a company of enlisted soldiers. They walked the streets,
attended the churches, and had their school, with no other restraint or
hindrance than is imposed upon soldiers. They soon acted as their own
guard day and night, assumed the dress of a soldier, and many of the
manners and habits of the white man. After remaining at St. Augustine
for about two years, a portion of the company were sent to the Hampton,
Va. school, and the remainder were returned to their native tribes,
where they must yet exert a powerful influence for the advance of
civilization.
It is a remarkable coincidence that the first practical demonstration
of the ability of the government to elevate and civilize the Indian, and
the first advance in a rational method of making citizens of the remnant
of our aboriginal population, was inaugurated at St. Augustine. The evil
in the nature of the Caucasian who first landed in America, upon the
shores of Florida, has proved a curse and a blight to the red man. The
gratifying success that crowned the philanthropic policy inaugurated by
the government among the representatives of the Indian race, while
prisoners at St. Augustine, will, it is to be hoped, be the harbinger of
the speedy civilization of the whole of the Indian race existing in
America.