A scatter’d race — a wild, unfetter’d tribe, That in the forests dwelt — that send no ships For commerce on the waters — rear no walls To shelter from the storm, or shield from strife And leave behind, in memory of their name, No monument, save in the dim, deep woods, That daily perish as their lords have done Beneath the keen stroke of the pioneer. Let us look back upon their forest homes, As, in that earlier time, when first their foes, The pale-faced, from the distant nations came, They dotted the green banks of winding streams THERE IS a small section of country now comprised within the limits of Beaufort District, in the State of South Carolina, which, to this day, goes by the name of Indian Land. The authorities are numerous which show this district, running along, as it does, and on its southern side bounded by, the Atlantic Ocean, to have been the very first in North America, distinguished by an European settlement. The design is attributed to the celebrated Coligni, Admiral of France, who, in the reign of Charles IX., conceived the project with the ulterior view of securing a sanctuary for the Huguenots when they should be compelled, as he foresaw they soon would, by the anti-religious persecutions of the time, to fly from their native into foreign regions. This settlement, however, proved unsuccessful; and the events which history records of the subsequent efforts of the French to establish colonies in the same neighbourhood, while of unquestionable authority, have all the air and appearance of the most delightful romance.
