time at war with Spain, and a report was circulated that the Spanish
priests in Florida had formed a conspiracy to murder the English
colonists. A letter from Ogilthorpe, in Georgia, confirmed this. Ury, who
was an educated Englishman, but had led an adventurous life in different
countries, could not disprove this, and he was convicted and sentenced to
be hung. He met his fate with great composure and dignity, asserting his
innocence to the last. He made the eighteenth victim hung, while thirteen
had been burned at the stake, and seventy-one transported to various
countries.

At the average rate of two every week, one hanged and one burned alive,
they were hurried into eternity amid prayers, and imprecations, and
shrieks of agony. The hauling of wood to the stake, and the preparation of
the gallows, kept the inhabitants in a state bordering on insanity.
Business was suspended, and every face wore a terrified look. The voice of
pity as well as justice was hushed, and one desire, that of swift
vengeance, filled every heart. Had the press of to-day, with its system of
interviewing, and minuteness of detail and description, existed then,
there would have been handed down to us a chapter in human history that
could be paralleled only in the dark ages.

A swift massacre, a terrible slaughter, comes and goes like an earthquake
or a tornado, and stuns rather than debases; but this long, steady
succession of horrible executions and frightful scenes changed the very
nature of the inhabitants, and they became a prey to a spirit demoniacal
rather than human. The prayers and tears of those led forth to the stake,
their heartrending cries as they were bound to it, and their shrieks of
agony that were wafted out over the still waters of the bay, fell on hard
and pitiless hearts. The ashes of the wood that consumed one victim would
hardly grow cold before a new fire was kindled upon them, and the charred