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which told us the dead were there, and that we were drawing near the chambers of death. An involuntary groan betrayed the secret/feelings of disappointment, and in the midst of surrounding beauty our minds were pensive and gloomy. Not far from this place, but on the opposite side of the river, the unfortunate Cherokees were landed last summer. Driven from Ross landing at the point of the bayonet, crowded into filthy boats, under a burning sun, they were landed near fort Coffee in the heat of summer The officers commuted their rations for money and left them. These poor people were, doubtless, almost desperate. The country was sickly, and they were thrown into it in the most sickly season, and in a manner the most calculated to produce sickness, and not only so, but on a river, overflowing its banks with whisky, accompanied with unprincipled men, masters of the black art, to seduce the unwary to perdition. Who could suppose that these poor Indians, under such circumstances, having money put into their hands, would resist temptations to drink, especially as they were doubtless told that liquor would be likely to prevent sickness. But whether drinking occasional, or augmented their distressed sickness is not for me to Judge. Suffice it to say, that eh three thousand landed here last summer were soon launched into the eternal world. But about three or four hundred, probably, survive.

May 3 -- Received more definite information relative to the late war story. The commander at the new fort, on the line, sent to General Arbuckle for two hundred troops, as the Cherokee he said were about to attack the fort. The General sent the soldiers, and Mr. Ross sent two men to the new fort, to enquire into the origin of the above report. The commander, however, would