Our fathers were guests, and warmed themselves by its
hospitable rays; now we are lords, and rule with an iron hand over those
who received kindly, and entertained generously, the wanderer who came
from afar to worship his God according to his own will. The very hearth
where moulder the ashes of this once never-ceasing fire, is becoming
desolate, the decaying embers sometimes starting into a brief
brilliancy, and then fading into a gloom more sad, more silent, than
ever. Soon will be scattered, as by the winds of heaven, the last ashes
that remain. Think of it, O legislator! as thou standest in the Capitol,
the great council-hall of thy country; plead for them, "upon whose
pathway death's dark shadow falls."
* * * * *
=_Mary E. Moragne,[54] 1815-._=
From "The Huguenot Town."
=_227._= RUINS OF THE OLD FRENCH SETTLEMENT.
An ignorance of the common methods of agriculture practised here, as
well as strong prejudices in favor of their former habits of living,
prevented them from seizing with avidity on large bodies of land, by
individual possession; but the site of a town being selected, a lot of
four acres was apportioned to every citizen. In a short time a hundred
houses had risen, in a regularly compact body, in the square of which
stood a building superior in size and construction to the rest.
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