Whatever I beheld in this singular spot, served to awaken curiosity, or to interest feeling. All my inquiries were satisfied with the utmost frankness. Evidently, there was nothing which required concealment. The heartless theories of fashion, with their subterfuges and vices, had not penetrated to this hermetically sealed abode. The Patriarch, at his entrance upon his territory, had divided it into six equal portions, reserving one for himself, and bestowing another on each of his five sons. As the children of the colony advanced to maturity, they, with scarcely an exception, contracted marriages among each other, striking root, like the branches of the banian, around their parent tree. The domicile of every family was originally a rude cabin of logs, serving simply the purpose of shelter. In front of this, a house of larger dimensions was commenced, and so constructed, that the ancient abode might become the kitchen, when the whole was completed. To the occupation of building they attended as they were able to command time and materials. "We keep it," said one of the colonists, "for _handy-work_, when there is no farming, or turpentine-gathering, or tar-making." Several abodes were at that time, in different stages of progress, marking the links of gradation between the rude cottage, and what they styled the "framed house." When finished, though devoid of architectural elegance, they exhibited capabilities of comfort, equal to the sober expectations of a primitive people. A field for corn, and a garden abounding with vegetables, were appendages to each habitation. Cows grazed quietly around, and sheep dotted like snow-flakes, the distant green pastures. The softer sex participated in the business of horticulture, and when necessary, in the labors of harvest, thus obtaining that vigor and muscular energy which distinguish the peasantry of Europe, from their effeminate sisters of the nobility and gentry. Each household produced or manufactured within its own domain, most of the materials which were essential to its comfort; and for such articles as their plantations could not supply, or their ingenuity construct, the pitch-pine was their medium of purchase. When the season arrived for collecting its hidden treasures, an aperture was made in its bark, and a box inserted, into which the turpentine continually oozed. Care was required to preserve this orifice free from the induration of glutinous matter. Thus, it must be frequently reopened, or carried gradually upward on the trunk of the tree; sometimes, to such a height, that a small knife affixed to the extremity of a long pole, is used for that purpose. Large trees sustain several boxes at the same time, though it is required that the continuity of bark be preserved, or the tree, thus shedding its life-blood at the will of man, must perish. Though the laborers in this department are exceedingly industrious and vigilant, there will still be a