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- text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .25em; - } - - table { - width: 100%; - max-width: 100%; - } - - .tdl { - padding-left: 1em; - text-indent: -1em; - padding-right: 0; - } - - .pagenum { - display: none; - page-break-before: avoid; - } - -} - - - -@media handheld - -{ - - body {margin: 0;} - - hr { - margin-top: .1em; - margin-bottom: .1em; - visibility: hidden; - color: white; - width: .01em; - display: none; - } - - blockquote {margin: 1.5em 3% 1.5em 3%;} - - .transnote { - page-break-inside: avoid; - margin-left: 2%; - margin-right: 2%; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - padding: .5em; - } - - .chapter-beginning { - page-break-before: always; - } - - .poem - { - display: block; - margin-left: 1.5em; - } - - .hideepub {visibility: hidden;} - -} - - </style> - -</head> - -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Iris, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Iris - An Illuminated Souvenir for MDCCCLII - -Author: Various - -Editor: John S. Hart - -Release Date: November 12, 2017 [EBook #55942] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IRIS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was -produced from images made available by the HathiTrust -Digital Library.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - - - -<hr /> - -<div class="figcenter newpage hideepub"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Cover" /> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - -<div class="figcenter newpage"> - <img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="title_page" /> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - -<p class="half-title in0">THE IRIS.</p> - - - - -<hr /> - -<div class="figcenter newpage"> - <img src="images/i_frontis_a.jpg" alt="frontispiece" /> - <div class="caption"> - <span class="smcap">Presented</span><br />To<br /> - <span class="vspace"> </span><br /> - <span class="xsmall">C. Schuessele del.   Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph.</span> - </div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - -<div class="figcenter newpage"> - <img src="images/i_frontis_b.jpg" alt="frontispiece" /><a id="frontis"></a> - <div class="caption"> - <span class="xsmall">C. Schuessele del.   Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph.</span><br /> - <span class="vspace"> </span><br /> - LANDING OF WILLIAM PENN. - </div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - -<div class="figcenter newpage"> - <img src="images/i_frontis_c.jpg" alt="frontispiece" /> - <div class="caption"> - The IRIS<br />Souvenir<br /> - <span class="vspace"> </span><br /> - <span class="xsmall">C. Schuessele del.   Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph.</span> - </div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - -<h1>THE IRIS:<br /> -An Illuminated Souvenir,<br /> -FOR<br /> -MDCCCLII.</h1> - -<p class="in0 center bold"><span class="small">EDITED BY</span><br /> -<span class="large">JOHN S. HART, LL. D.</span><br /> -<span class="vspace"> </span><br /> -PHILADELPHIA:<br /> -<span class="large">PUBLISHED BY LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.</span><br /> -<span class="small">SUCCESSORS TO GRIGG, ELLIOT & CO.</span><br /> -<span class="large">1852.</span></p> - - - - -<hr /> - -<p class="newpage center bold in0">Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851,<br /> -BY LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.,<br /> -In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.<br /> -<span class="vspace"> </span><br /> -C. SHERMAN, PRINTER.</p> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">xiii</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>PREFACE.</h2> -</div> - -<p>Captain Eastman, of the United States Topographical Corps, -having been stationed for nine years on our northwestern frontier, -among the Indian tribes, at and around Fort Snelling, made a series -of drawings of some of the most striking and remarkable objects -connected with the Indian traditions. His accomplished lady, who -was with him seven years of this time, collected the traditions themselves, -and wove them into tales and poems that let us into the -very heart of Indian life. The whole of this valuable and original -collection has been secured for the Iris, and gives to the volume -for 1852 its distinguishing feature. To make the illustrations -conform more to the character of the subjects, they have all been -printed in colours, in the style now so deservedly popular. Last -year the publishers gave only four of these gorgeous illuminated -pages. The present volume contains no less than twelve, all from -original designs, and all printed in ten different colours. The -happy blending of the colours in these pictures, the disposition of -the light and shade, and the skill with which they are printed, give -them the appearance of paintings rather than of prints. Such a -collection of gems of art in one volume, could not be made without -a heavy expense. But the publishers were desirous of making the -Iris, as to the splendour of its appearance, not unworthy of the -celestial visitant from which it has been named, and of the very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">xiv</a></span> -marked favour with which its predecessor of the last season was -received.</p> - -<p>The literary matter, like that of the former volume, is entirely -original, and with the exception of the beautiful poem by Miss -Bremer, entirely American, both as to subjects and authorship. -Though there are various shades of thought and feeling in these -effusions of genius, each subject being coloured according to the -mental constitution of the writer, yet, as in the divine bow of -promise, all colours are blended and harmonized in the one aim to -place before the beholder a new token of hope and gladness.</p> - - - - -<hr /> - -<div class="figcenter newpage"> - <img src="images/i_xiv_a.jpg" alt="illustration_list" /> - <div class="caption"> - ILLUSTRATIONS<br /> - <span class="vspace"> </span><br /> - <span class="xsmall">C. Schuessele del.   Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph.</span> - </div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">xv</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> -</div> - -<table summary="Contents"> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="xsmall">SUBJECT.</span></td> - <td class="tdc"><span class="xsmall">AUTHOR.</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><span class="xsmall">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">PROEM.</td> - <td class="tdl">SARAH ROBERTS.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">THE LANDING OF WILLIAM PENN.</td> - <td class="tdl">THE EDITOR.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">DIFFERENT IMPRESSIONS.</td> - <td class="tdl">FREDRIKA BREMER.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">WE-HAR-KA, OR THE RIVAL CLANS.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">THE LAUGHING WATERS.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">O-KO-PEE, A HUNTER OF THE SIOUX.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">CHEQUERED CLOUD, THE AGED SIOUX WOMAN.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">FIRE-FACE.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">DEATH-SONG OF AN INDIAN PRISONER.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">THE FALSE ALARM.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">INDIAN COURTSHIP.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">THE SACRIFICE.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">AN INDIAN LULLABY.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">SOUNDING WIND, THE CHIPPEWAY BRAVE.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">AN INDIAN BALLAD.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">OLD JOHN, THE MEDICINE-MAN.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">A REMONSTRANCE.</td> - <td class="tdl">ELIZA L. SPROAT.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">A FINE ART DISREGARDED.</td> - <td class="tdl">ELIZABETH WETHERELL.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">MISSION CHURCH OF SAN JOSÉ.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">HAWKING.</td> - <td class="tdl">EDITH MAY.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">HILLSIDE COTTAGE.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. JULIA C. R. DORR.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">SUNSET ON THE DELAWARE.</td> - <td class="tdl">J. I. PEASE.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY.</td> - <td class="tdl">S. A. H.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">CASTLE-BUILDING.</td> - <td class="tdl">JAMES T. MITCHELL.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">THE LOVER'S LEAP, OR WENONA'S ROCK.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">THE INDIAN MOTHER.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">THE WOOD SPIRITS AND THE MAIDEN.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">ALICE HILL.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. M. E. W. ALEXANDER.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">xvi</a></span>DR. VANDORSEN AND THE YOUNG WIDOW.</td> - <td class="tdl">ANN E. PORTER.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">A CENOTAPH. A BALLAD OF NATHAN HALE.</td> - <td class="tdl">ERASTUS W. ELLSWORTH.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">THE DREAMER.</td> - <td class="tdl">MARY E. HEWITT.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">WHITE MOON AND FIERY MAN.</td> - <td class="tdl">MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">THE RAIN-DROP.</td> - <td class="tdl">MISS E. W. BARNES.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_276">276</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">A PLEA FOR A CHOICE PICTURE.</td> - <td class="tdl">MISS L. S. HALL.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">LOST AND WON.</td> - <td class="tdl">CAROLINE EUSTIS.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">THE MISTRUSTED GUIDE.</td> - <td class="tdl">A WESTERN MISSIONARY.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">A NIGHT IN NAZARETH.</td> - <td class="tdl">MARY YOUNG.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_290">290</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">TEARS.</td> - <td class="tdl">CHARLES D. GARDETTE, M.D.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">INCONSTANCY.</td> - <td class="tdl">E. M.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">CROSSING THE TIDE.</td> - <td class="tdl">MISS PHŒBE CAREY.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_297">297</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter-beginning"> -<p class="center in0"><span class="xxlarge">THE IRIS.</span></p> -</div> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">PROEM.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY SARAH ROBERTS.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">They have christened me Iris; and why? oh, why?</div> -<div class="i2">Because, like the rainbow so bright,</div> -<div class="i0">I bring my own welcome, and tell my own tale,</div> -<div class="i2">And am hailed by all hearts with delight:</div> -<div class="i8">And this, this is why</div> -<div class="i0">I am named for the beautiful bow in the sky.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The rainbow, it cometh 'mid sunlight and tears,—</div> -<div class="i2">The tears it soon chaseth away;</div> -<div class="i0">I banish all sighs for the year that is passed,</div> -<div class="i2">And the future in sunlight array:</div> -<div class="i8">And this, this is why</div> -<div class="i0">I am named for the beautiful bow in the sky.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The rainbow, it telleth of promise and love,</div> -<div class="i2">Of hope, with its gay, golden wing;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> -<div class="i0">It whispers of peacefulness, purity, heaven,—</div> -<div class="i2">Of these lofty themes do I sing:</div> -<div class="i8">And this, this is why</div> -<div class="i0">I am named for the beautiful bow in the sky.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The rainbow is painted in colours most fair,</div> -<div class="i2">By the hand of the Father of love;</div> -<div class="i0">So the genius and talent my pages bespeak,</div> -<div class="i2">Are inspired by the Great Mind above:</div> -<div class="i8">And this, this is why</div> -<div class="i0">I am named for the beautiful bow in the sky.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>THE LANDING OF WILLIAM PENN.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY THE EDITOR.</p> - -<p class="center in0">(See the <a href="#frontis">Frontispiece</a>.)</p> - - -<p>The first landing of William Penn at Newcastle, in 1682, -is one of those striking historical events that are peculiarly -suited for pictorial illustration. The late Mr. Duponceau, in -one of his discourses, first suggested the idea of making it -the subject of an historical painting. This idea is seized -with avidity by Mr. Dixon, the most recent biographer of -the great Quaker, and the circumstances of the landing are -given accordingly, with much minuteness. The artist who -designed the picture that forms the frontispiece to the present -volume has had this description in view. I cannot -do better, therefore, than to quote the words of Mr. Dixon -as the best possible commentary upon the picture.</p> - -<p>"On the 27th of October, nine weeks after the departure -from Deal, the <i>Welcome</i> moored off Newcastle, in the territories -lately ceded by the Duke of York, and William Penn -first set foot in the New World.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">1</a> His landing made a<span class="pagenum"> - <a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> -general holiday in the town; young and old, Welsh, Dutch, -English, Swedes, and Germans, crowded down to the landing-place, -each eager to catch a glimpse of the great man -who had come amongst them, less as their lord and governor -than as their friend. In the centre of the foreground, only -distinguished from the few companions of his voyage who -have yet landed, by the nobleness of his mien, and a light -blue silken sash tied round his waist, stands William Penn; -erect in stature, every motion indicating courtly grace, his -countenance lighted up with hope and honest pride,—in -every limb and feature the expression of a serene and manly -beauty.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">2</a> The young officer before him, dressed in the gay -costume of the English service, is his lieutenant, Markham, -come to welcome his relative to the new land, and to give an -account of his own stewardship. On the right stand the -chief settlers of the district, arrayed in their national costumes, -the light hair and quick eye of the Swede finding a -good foil in the stolid look of the heavy Dutchman, who -doffs his cap, but doubts whether he shall take the pipe out -of his mouth even to say welcome to the new governor. A -little apart, as if studying with the intense eagerness of Indian -skill the physiognomy of the ruler who has come with -his children to occupy their hunting-grounds, stands the wise -and noble leader of the Red Men, Taminent, and a party of -the Lenni Lenapé in their picturesque paints and costume. -Behind the central figure are grouped the principal companions -of his voyage; and on the dancing waters of the Delaware -rides the stately ship, while between her and the shore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span> -a multitude of light canoes dart to and fro, bringing the passengers -and merchandise to land. Part of the background -shows an irregular line of streets and houses, the latter with -the pointed roofs and fantastic gables which still delight the -artist's eye in the streets of Leyden or Rotterdam; and -further on the view is lost in one of those grand old pine -and cedar forests which belong essentially to an American -scene."</p> - -<p>I take much pleasure in quoting also, in this connexion, -another scene of somewhat similar character, though greatly -misrepresented in the ordinary pictures of it heretofore -given. Penn's personal appearance has been even more -misapprehended than his character. He was, indeed, one -of the most handsome men of his age, and at the time of -his first coming to America he was in the very prime of -life. West makes him an ugly, fat old fellow, in a costume -half a century out of date. So says Mr. Dixon. The passage -referred to, and about to be quoted, is from a description of -the celebrated Treaty with the Indians at Shackamaxon.</p> - -<p>"This conference has become one of the most striking -scenes in history. Artists have painted, poets have sung, -philosophers have applauded it; but it is nevertheless clear, -that in words and colours it has been equally and generally -misrepresented, because painters, poets, and historians have -chosen to draw on their own imaginations for the features -of a scene, every marking line of which they might have -recovered from authentic sources.</p> - -<p>"The great outlines of nature are easily obtained. There, -the dense masses of cedar, pine, and chestnut, stretching far -away into the interior of the land; here, the noble river<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span> -rolling its waters down to the Atlantic Ocean; along its surface -rose the purple smoke of the settlers' homestead; on -the opposite shores lay the fertile and settled country of -New Jersey. Here stood the gigantic elm which was -to become immortal from that day forward,—and there lay -the verdant council chamber formed by nature on the surface -of the soil. In the centre stood William Penn, in costume -undistinguished from the surrounding group, save by -the silken sash. His costume was simple, but not pedantic -or ungainly: an outer coat, reaching to the knees, and -covered with buttons, a vest of other materials, but equally -ample, trousers extremely full, slashed at the sides, and tied -with strings or ribbons, a profusion of shirt sleeves and -ruffles, with a hat of the cavalier shape (wanting only the -feather), from beneath the brim of which escaped the curls -of a new peruke, were the chief and not ungraceful ingredients.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">3</a> -At his right hand stood Colonel Markham, who -had met the Indians in council more than once on that -identical spot, and was regarded by them as a firm and -faithful friend; on his left Pearson, the intrepid companion -of his voyage; and near his person, but a little backward, -a band of his most attached adherents. When the Indians -approached in their old forest costume, their bright feathers -sparkling in the sun, and their bodies painted in the most -gorgeous manner, the governor received them with the easy -dignity of one accustomed to mix with European courts. -As soon as the reception was over, the sachems retired to a -short distance, and after a brief consultation among themselves,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span> -Taminent, the chief sachem or king, a man whose -virtues are still remembered by the sons of the forest, advanced -again a few paces, and put upon his own head a -chaplet, into which was twisted a small horn: this chaplet -was his symbol of power; and in the customs of the Lenni -Lenapé, whenever the chief placed it upon his brows the -spot became at once sacred, and the person of every one -present inviolable. The venerable Indian king then seated -himself on the ground, with the older sachems on his right -and left, the middle-aged warriors ranged themselves in the -form of a crescent or half-moon round them, and the younger -men formed a third and outer semicircle. All being seated -in this striking and picturesque order, the old monarch announced -to the governor that the natives were prepared to -hear and consider his words. Penn then rose to address -them, his countenance beaming with all the pride of manhood. -He was at this time thirty-eight years old; light and -graceful in form; the handsomest, best-looking, most lively -gentleman she had ever seen, wrote a lady who was an eyewitness -of the ceremony."</p> - -<div class="footnote"> -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1">1</a> "Watson, 16; Day, 299. The landing of Penn in America is commemorated -on the 24th of October, that being the date given by Clarkson; -but the diligent antiquary, Mr. J. F. Watson, has found in the records of -Newcastle the original entry of his arrival."</p> - - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2">2</a> "The portrait by West is utterly spurious and unlike. Granville Penn, -MSS."</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3">3</a> "Penn. Hist. Soc. Mem., iii. part ii. 76."</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>DIFFERENT IMPRESSIONS.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY FREDRIKA BREMER.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">I was in company</div> -<div class="i0">With men and women,</div> -<div class="i0">And heard small talk</div> -<div class="i0">Of little things,</div> -<div class="i0">Of poor pursuits</div> -<div class="i0">And narrow views</div> -<div class="i0">Of narrow minds.</div> -<div class="i0">I rushed out</div> -<div class="i0">To breathe more freely,</div> -<div class="i0">To look on nature.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The evening star</div> -<div class="i2">Rose grave and bright,</div> -<div class="i0">The western sky</div> -<div class="i2">Was warm with light,</div> -<div class="i0">And the young moon</div> -<div class="i2">Shone softly down</div> -<div class="i0">Among the shadows</div> -<div class="i2">Of the town,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> -<div class="i0">Where whispering trees</div> -<div class="i2">And fragrant flowers</div> -<div class="i0">Stood hushed in silent,</div> -<div class="i2">Balmy bowers.</div> -<div class="i0">All was romance,</div> -<div class="i2">All loveliness,</div> -<div class="i0">Wrapped in a trance</div> -<div class="i2">Of mystic bliss.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">I looked on</div> -<div class="i0">In bitterness,</div> -<div class="i0">And sighed and asked,</div> -<div class="i0">Why the great Lord</div> -<div class="i0">Made so rich beauty</div> -<div class="i0">For such a race</div> -<div class="i0">Of little men?</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">I was in company</div> -<div class="i0">With men and women,</div> -<div class="i0">Heard noble talk</div> -<div class="i0">Of noble things,</div> -<div class="i0">Of noble doings,</div> -<div class="i0">And manly suffering</div> -<div class="i0">And man's heart beating</div> -<div class="i0">For all mankind.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The evening star</div> -<div class="i2">Seemed now less bright,</div> -<div class="i0">The western sky</div> -<div class="i2">Of paler light,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span> -<div class="i0">All nature's beauty</div> -<div class="i0">And romance,</div> -<div class="i0">So lovely</div> -<div class="i0">To gaze upon,</div> -<div class="i0">Retired at once,</div> -<div class="i0">A shadow but to that of man!</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter newpage"> - <img src="images/i_028a.jpg" alt="WE-HAR-KA" /> - <div class="caption"> - <span class="xsmall">C. Schuessele del. Drawn by Cap<sup>t.</sup> S. Eastman. Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph.</span><br /> - <span class="vspace"> </span><br /> - WE-HAR-KA. - </div> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="style1" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>WE-HAR-KA,<br /> -<span class="small">OR, THE RIVAL CLANS.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - -<p>The Indian settlement, the opening scene of our story, -presented a different appearance from what we call an Indian -village at the present day. The lodges were far more numerous, -and the Indians were not drooping about, without -energy, and apparently without occupation. The long line -of hills did not echo the revels of the drunkard, nor were -the faces of the people marked with anxiety and care. The -untaught and untamed dispositions of the red men were as -yet unaffected by the evil influences of the degenerate white -man.</p> - -<p>The Sioux<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">4</a> were in their summer-houses, and the village -stretched along the bank of the river for a quarter of a -mile. It reached back, too, to the foot of a high hill, and -some of the lodges were shaded by the overhanging branches<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span> -of the elm and maple. Above the homes of the living -might be seen the burial-place of the dead; for, on the summit -of the hill the enveloped forms of the departed were -receiving the last red beams of the retiring sun, whose rising -and repose were now for ever unnoticed by them.</p> - -<p>The long, warm day was closing in, and the Indians were -enjoying themselves in the cool breezes that were stirring the -waves of the river and the wild flowers that swept over its -banks. They were collected in groups in every direction, but -the largest party might be found surrounding a mat, on -which was seated the old war-chief of the band, who had long -dragged a tedious existence, a care to others and a burden -to himself. The mat was placed near the wigwam, so that -the sides of the wigwam supported the back of the aged and -infirm warrior. His hair was cut straight over his forehead, -but behind it hung in long locks over his neck.</p> - -<p>Warm as was the season, the buffalo robe was wrapped -around him, the fur side next to him, while on the outside, -in Indian hieroglyphics, might be read many an event of his -life. Around the edge of the robe was a row of hands -painted in different colours, representing the number of enemies -he had killed in battle. In the centre of the robe were -drawn the sun and morning star, objects of worship among -the Sioux, and placed on the robe as a remedy for a severe -sickness which once prostrated his vital powers, but was -conquered by the efficacious charm contained in the representation. -Ornaments of different kinds adorned his person; -but his limbs were shrunken to the bone with age, and the -time had long since come to him when even the grasshopper -was a burden.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span></p> - -<p>The features of the Sioux were still expressive, though the -eyes were closed and the lips thin and compressed; he was -encircled with a dignity, which, in all ages and climes, attaches -itself to an honourable old age.</p> - -<p>Close by his side, and contrasting strongly with the war-chief, -was one of his nearest relations. She was his granddaughter, -the orphan girl of his favourite son. She was at -once his companion, attendant, and idol.</p> - -<p>They were never separated, that old man and young girl; -for a long time he had been fed by her hands, and now he -never saw the light of the sun he worshipped except when -she raised and held open the eyelids which weakness had -closed over his eyes. She had just assisted his tottering -steps, and seated him on the mat, where he might enjoy -the pleasant evening-time and the society of those who delighted -in the strange stories his memory called up, or who -were willing to receive the advice which the aged are ever -privileged to pour into the hearts of the young.</p> - -<p>The evening meal of the warrior had been a light one, for -We-har-ka still held in her small and beautiful hand a bark -dish, which contained venison cut up in small pieces, occasionally -pressing him to eat again. It was evident there was -something unusual agitating his thoughts, for he impatiently -put aside the hand that fed him, and taking his pipe, the -handle of which was elaborately adorned, he held it to have -it lighted, then dreamily and quietly placed it in his mouth.</p> - -<p>He had long been an object of reverence to his people; -though superseded as a warrior and a leader, yet his influence -was still acknowledged in the band which he had so long -controlled. He had kept this alive in a great measure by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span> -the oft-repeated stories of his achievements, and above all, -by the many personal encounters he had had, not only with -his enemies, but with the gods, the objects of their devotion -and fear.</p> - -<p>The pipe was soon laid aside, and his low and murmuring -words could not be understood by the group, that, attracted -by the unusual excitement that showed itself in the war-chief's -manner, had pressed near him.</p> - -<p>After a short communing with himself he placed his hand -upon the head of the girl, who was watching every change in -his expressive face. "My daughter," he said, "you will not -be alone—the Eagle Eye will not again see the form of his -warrior son: he would have charged him to care for his -sister, even as the small birds watch and guard around the -home of the forest god.</p> - -<p>"The children of the Great Spirit must submit to his will. -My heart would laugh could I again see the tall form of my -grandson. I would see once more the fleetness of his step -and the strength of his arm; but it is not to be. Before he -shall return, crying, 'It is for my father, the scalp of his -enemy,' I shall be roaming over the hunting-grounds of -the Great Spirit. Do not weep, my daughter; you will be -happy in your husband's wigwam, and you will tell your -children how the Eagle Eye loved you, even till his feet -started on the warrior's journey.</p> - -<p>"Your brother will return," he continued, "and it is for -him that I lay aside the pipe, which I shall never smoke -again; the drum that I have used since I have been a medicine-man, -I wish laid near my side when I shall be dead, -and wrapped in the buffalo robe which will cover me.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span></p> - -<p>"You, my braves, shall know whence I obtained this drum. -It has often brought back life to the dying man, and its -sound has secured us success in battle. I have often told -you that I had seen the God of the Great Deep in my dreams, -and from him I obtained power to strike terror to the hearts -of my enemies. Who has shouted the death-cry oftener -than I? Look at the feathers<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">5</a> of honour in my head! What -enemy ever heard the name of Eagle Eye without trembling? -But I, terrible as I have been to my enemies, must grow -weak like a woman, and die like a child. The waters of -the rivers rush on; you may hear them and trace their way, -but soon they join the waves of the great deep, and we see -them no more—so I am about to join the company in the -house of the Great Spirit, and when your children say, -'Where is Eagle Eye?' you may answer, 'The Great Spirit -has called him, we cannot go where he is.'</p> - -<p>"It was from Unk-ta-he, the god of the great deep, that -I received that drum. Before I was born of woman I lived -in the dark waters. Unk-ta-he rose up with his terrible -eyes, and took me to his home. I lived with him and the -other gods of the sea. I cannot to you all repeat the lessons -of wisdom he has taught me; it is a part of the great -medicine words that women should never hear.</p> - -<p>"There, in the home of the god of the sea, I saw many -wonders—the large doors through which the water gods -passed when they visited the earth, the giant trees lying in -the water higher than our mountains. They had lightning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span> -too, the weapons of the thunder birds;<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">6</a> when the winds -arose, and the sea waved, then did Unk-ta-he hurl the -streaked fire to the earth through the waters.</p> - -<p>"The god of the great deep gave me this drum, and I -wish it buried with me; he told me when I struck the -drum my will should be obeyed, and it has been so.</p> - -<p>"When my son returns, tell him to let his name be terrible -like his grandfather's. Tell him that my arm was like -a child's because of the winters I had seen, but that he -must revenge his brother's death; then will he be like -the brave men who have gone before him, and his deeds will -be remembered as long as the Dacotas hate their enemies. -The shadows grow deeper on the hills, and the long night -will soon rest upon the head of the war-chief. I am old, yet -my death-song shall call back the spirits of the dead. Where -are the Chippeways, my enemies? See their red scalps scorching -in the sun! I am a great warrior; tell me, where is the -enemy who fears me not!"</p> - -<p>While the voice of the old man now rose with the excitement -that was influencing, now fell with the exhaustion, -which brought big drops of perspiration on his face, the Indians -were collecting in a crowd around him.</p> - -<p>It was, indeed, a glorious evening for the war-chief to -die. The horizon was a mass of crimson clouds, their gorgeous -tints were reflected on the river; the rocky bluffs rose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span> -up like castle walls around the village, while on the opposite -shore the deer were parting the foliage with their graceful -heads and drinking from the low banks.</p> - -<p>We-har-ka wiped the forehead and brow of her grandfather. -There was something of more than ordinary interest -about the appearance of this young person: her features -were regularly formed, their expression mild; her figure light -and yielding as a young tree; her hair was neatly parted -and gathered in small braids over her neck; her dress well -calculated to display the grace of her figure; a heavy necklace -of wampum<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">7</a> covered her throat and neck, and on her -bosom was suspended the holy cross!</p> - -<p>Her complexion was lighter than usual for an Indian girl, -owing to the confinement occasioned by the charge of her -infirm relative; a subdued melancholy pervaded her features, -and even the tone of her voice.</p> - -<p>There was a pause, for the warrior slept a few moments, -and again his voice was heard. Death was making him -mindful of the glorious achievements of his life. Again he -was brandishing his tomahawk in circles round the head of -his fallen foe; again he taunted his prisoner, whose life he -had spared that he might enjoy his sufferings under the -torment; again, with a voice as strong as in early manhood,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span> -he shouted the death-cry—it was his own, for not another -sound, not even a sigh escaped him.</p> - -<div class="tb"> - * <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span> -</div> - -<p>Gently they moved him into the wigwam. We-har-ka -stood by his head. There was no loud wailing, for he had -outlived almost all who were bound to him by near ties.</p> - -<p>Those who stood around heaped their most cherished possessions -on his feet: the knife, the pipe, and the robe were -freely and affectionately offered to the dead.</p> - -<p>We-har-ka gazed earnestly upon him: large tears fell on -her bosom and on the old man's brow. Some one drew near -and respectfully covered his venerable face: the drum was -placed, as he requested, at his side.</p> - -<p>One of the men said, "Eagle Eye takes proud steps as he -travels towards the land of souls. His heart has long been -where warriors chase the buffalo on the prairies of the Great -Spirit." We-har-ka drew from her belt her knife, and cut -long, deep gashes on her round arms; then, not heeding the -wounds,<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">8</a> she severed the braids of her glossy hair, and cutting -them off with the knife, red with her own blood, she -threw them at her feet.</p> - - -<p class="p2t">How did the holy cross find its way to the wilds of a new -country? A savage, yet powerful nation, idolaters at heart -and in practice, bending to the sun, the forests, and the sea—how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span> -was it that the sign of the disciple of Jesus lay glittering -on the bosom of one of the women of this heathen race?</p> - -<p>Did the Christian hymn of praise ever rise with the soft -and silvery vapours of morning to the heavens? Had the -low and earnest Christian's prayer ever sounded among the -bluffs that towered and the islands that slept? Never, and -yet the emblem of their faith was there.</p> - -<p>But, to what region did not the Jesuit penetrate? Hardly -were the resources of our country discovered, before they -were upon its shores.</p> - -<p>They were there, with their promises and penances, their -soft words and their Latin prayers, with purposes not to be -subdued in accomplishing the mission for which they were -sent. Was it a mission of faith, or of gain? Was it to extend -the hopes and triumphs of the cross, or to aggrandize a -Society always overflowing with means and with power? -Witness the result.</p> - -<p>Yet they poured like rain into the rich and beautiful -country of Acadie.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">9</a> See them passing through forests where -the dark trees bent to and fro "like giants possessing fearful -secrets," enduring hunger, privation, and fatigue. See -them again in their frail barks bounding over the angry -waters of Huron, riding upon its mountain waves, and often -cast upon its inhospitable rocks.</p> - -<p>Follow them as they tread the paths where the moccasin-step -alone had ever been heard, regardless of danger and of -death, planting the cross even in the midst of a Dacota -village. Could this be for aught save the love of the Saviour?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span> -Those who know the history of the Society founded by -Loyola, best can tell.</p> - -<p>Among the ranks of the Jesuit were found the Christian -and the martyr, as, among the priesthood of Rome, in her -darkest days, were here and there those whose robes have, -no doubt, been washed in the blood of the Lamb.</p> - -<p>Those hearts that were really touched with the truth -divine, drew nearer to the path of duty by the solemn spectacle -of man, standing on the earth, gay and beautiful as if -light had just been created, yet not even knowing of the -existence of his great Creator.</p> - - -<p class="p2t">Not far from the wigwam of the dead chief, Father Blanc -knelt before the altar which he had erected. He wore the -black robe of his order, and as he knelt, the strange words -he uttered sounded stranger still here. On the altar were -the crucifix and many of the usual ornaments carried by -the wandering Romish priests.</p> - -<p>Flowers too were strewn on the altar, flowers large and -beautiful, such as he had never seen even in <i>la belle France</i>. -He chaunted the vespers alone, and had but just risen from -his devotions when the dying cry of the war-chief rung -through the village.</p> - -<p>The priest walked slowly to the scene of death. Why was -he not there before with the cross and the holy oil? Ah! the -war-chief was no subject for the Jesuit faith—he had worshipped -too long Wakinyan-Unk-ta-he to listen to the words -of the black robe. There were no baptisms, no chauntings -of the mass here; there was no interest at stake to induce -the haughty Sioux to the necessity of yielding up his household -gods. They were not a weaker party warring with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span> -the French, and obliged from motives of policy to taste the -consecrated wafer. Contrasted with the Indian's ignorance -was his native dignity. When Father Blanc told them there -was but one religion and that was the Roman Catholic, and -that the time would come when all would be subject to the -man who was in God's place upon the earth, who lived at -Rome, then would the Sioux laugh, and say, "As long as -the sun shines, the Dacotas will keep the medicine feast."</p> - -<p>In vain were the pictured prayer-book and the holy relics -exhibited. What were they to the tracks of Haokah the -giant, or the gods' house, under the hill which reared itself -even to the clouds, under which the gods rested themselves -from their battles.</p> - -<p>The priest wept when he thought of the useless sacrifice -he had made: he could not even gain the love of the strange -beings for whose sake he had endured so much. They were -not like the Abnakis, "those men of the east," who so loved -and obeyed the fathers who sojourned among them.</p> - -<p>And the useless life he was leading, how long might it -last? Restrained, as the Sioux were, only by the laws of -hospitality and the promise they had made to the Indians -who conducted him hither, how soon might these influences -cease to affect them?</p> - -<p>We-har-ka alone spoke gently and kindly to him. She -knew that his heart, like hers, vibrated beneath a load of -care; she found too a strange interest in his stories,—the -woman's love of the marvellous was roused; the miracles of -the saints delighted her as did the feats of the gods.</p> - -<p>But only so far was she a Christian; though she wore a -gift from the Jesuit, the consecrated sign. Perhaps in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> -after accounts of his converts she was reckoned among them. -We are told by one of the Jesuit fathers of the true conversion -and Christian death of a Canada Indian. "While I -related to him," said he, "the scene of the crucifixion, 'Oh! -that I had been there,' exclaimed the Indian, 'I would have -brought away the scalps of those Jews.'"</p> - -<p>The war-chief was arrayed in his choicest clothing; and, -but for the silence in the wigwam, and the desolate appearance -of the young person who was alone with her dead, one -would have supposed that he slept as usual. The charms -were still to be left about his person for protection. The -body was wrapped in skins: they were as yet laid but -loosely about him, ready for their final arrangement, when, -with the face towards the rising sun, the warrior should be -laid upon the scaffolding, to enjoy undisturbed repose.</p> - -<p>But a few hours had elapsed since he sat and talked -among them; but now each of the group had returned to -his usual occupation. Even his daughter sat with her face -drooping over her hands, forgetting for the moment her -grief at his loss, and endeavouring to anticipate her own -fate. The twilight had not yet given way to night, but the -sudden death that had occurred had hushed all their usual -noisy amusements. Nothing was heard but the subdued -voices of the warriors as they dwelt on the exploits of Eagle -Eye, or speculated on the employments that engaged him, -now that their tie with him was sundered. Sometimes the -subject was changed for another of more exciting interest. -A party that had gone in search of the Chippeways,<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">10</a> who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span> -had been hovering near their village, was expected to return, -and there was some little anxiety occasioned by their prolonged -stay. Among the most noted of the party was the -brother of We-har-ka and a young brave called the Beaver. -These two young men, aspirants for glory and the preference -which, among the Indians, is awarded to bravery, cunning, -and the virtues, so considered among them, belonged to different -clans. The rivalry and hatred between these clans raged -high, more so at this time than for some years previous.</p> - -<p>The Indian lives only for revenge; he has neither arts -nor learning to occupy his mind, and his religion encourages -rather than condemns this passion.</p> - -<p>The daring showed by the Chippeways had only stimulated -them to greater acts of bravery; they were determined -that the tree of peace, now torn up by the roots, should never -be planted again on the boundaries of the two countries.</p> - -<p>We-har-ka had arisen from her recumbent attitude, and -stood by the side of her dead relative. She had not time -to reflect on the loneliness of her position.</p> - -<p>She had only laid her hand on the cold forehead where -Death had so recently set his seal, when the well-known triumphant -voice of her brother echoed through the village.</p> - -<p>Hardly had she turned towards the door when another -yell of triumph, sounding even louder than the first, was -heard. She knew that voice too, for the colour mounted to -her cheeks, and her breath came short and quickly.</p> - -<p>A chorus of yells now rent the air, answered by the Indians -who had joyfully started up to meet the party. How<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> -every eye shone with delight, every feature working with -convulsive excitement; all the fierce passions of their nature -were aroused. Those prolonged and triumphant shouts had -prepared them for what was to come. Already they longed -to see the blood-dyed scalps, and, it might be, the face of -some prisoner in whose sufferings they were to revel.</p> - -<p>The figures of the successful war-party soon made themselves -visible in the moonlight. One by one they turned the -winding trail that led to the village. Over their heads they -bore the fresh scalps; and as they came in view, a piercing -universal shout arose from all. The eagerness of the women -induced them to press forward, and when it was impossible -to gain a view, from the great crowd in advance, they ascended -the nearest rock, where they could distinctly see the -approaching procession.</p> - -<p>After the scalps and their bearers were recognised, another -deafening shout arose. The prisoners were descried as they -neared: it was seen there were two men and a woman. The -arms of the men were pinioned back between their shoulders. -Nearer still they come, but the shouting is over: intense -curiosity and anxiety have succeeded this eager delight.</p> - -<p>The prisoners and scalps were their enemies, but over -every heart the question passed, Have they all returned? -Has each husband been restored to his family, each child to -the parent? But not long did these softer feelings influence -the conduct of the Sioux. They had now nearly met, and -the war-party, with the prisoners, had reached the outskirts -of the village. Here the confusion had returned and attained -its greatest height; welcomes had been said, and the -crowd pressed around the scalps to feast their eyes on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span> -precious sight. There were but four, and they had been -taken in the hurry of flight: they were round pieces, torn -from the top of the head, and from one of them fell the long, -glossy hair of a woman.</p> - -<p>There was nothing in the carriage of the prisoners to denote -their condition, their attitude and demeanour proclaiming -the conqueror instead of the conquered—the -haughty determination of their looks, the bold freedom of -their steps, their gait as erect as possible, with their hands -bound behind them. Even the insolence of their language, -in reply to the taunts of their victors, showed they were prepared -for what was inevitable.</p> - -<p>The calm, pale face of the young Chippeway girl showed -that she had determined to brave the blood-loving Sioux, -and let them see that a woman could meet death as well as -a warrior.</p> - -<p>The procession stopped, and one of the Sioux women -called for her husband. "Where is he, warriors? give me -back my husband."</p> - -<p>"You will not weep," said one of the men; "here is the -Chippeway who killed him," pointing to the younger of the -male prisoners. "You may stone him, and then you may -sing while the fire is burning under his feet."</p> - -<p>A loud laugh of defiance was heard from the prisoner. -"The Sioux are dogs," he said; "let them hurry; I am in -haste to go to the land of souls." The words were not uttered -ere a dozen spears pricked his body. There was no -cry of pain; he only laughed at the anger he had excited.</p> - -<p>The attention of the Indians was now withdrawn from -their prisoners, for We-har-ka was rapidly walking towards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span> -them. Even the arrangement of her dress was distinctly -visible as she approached them: her long and glossy hair -disarranged purposely, to mark the intensity of her grief; -the blood was still trickling from her arms; her pale face -looking even paler than it was, by the moonlight and its -broad shadows.</p> - -<p>She was hastening to meet her brother, yet she did not -offer him one congratulation on his safe return. "My -brother," she cried, "your grandfather is dead. He lies -cold and still, as the large buffalo when he has ceased to -struggle with our hunters. Go to his lodge and tell him of -your prisoners, and your scalps. For me, I will go myself to -shed tears. I will follow the fresh tracks of the deer, and -by the wakeen-stone,<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">11</a> in the prairie, I will sit and weep -where no eye can see me but the Great Spirit's. While the -moon walks through the sky, the spirits shall hear my voice."</p> - -<p>She was listened to in silence, for the Indians always -showed respect to We-har-ka; her being constantly with -the war-chief had made them look upon her almost with -reverence, as if she might have obtained from him some -supernatural power.</p> - -<p>"The Sioux listen to the words of a woman," said the old -prisoner, as We-har-ka turned towards the prairie. "Why -do they not make her a war-chief, and let her take them to -battle?"</p> - -<p>"We will," answered her brother, "when we go again to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span> -bring home old men. I would not have been troubled with -your old carrion, but I thought to let my father return the -kind treatment you once gave him; and I would kill you -now, but that I would rather the women would do it."</p> - -<p>"The Sioux are brave when their prisoners are bound," -again taunted the prisoner; "let them do their will: the -Chippeway fears neither fire nor death."</p> - -<p>The rage of the Sioux was unbounded; the cold unconcern -of their prisoner almost destroyed the pleasure of victory. -The women clamorously demanded that he might be -delivered over to them. They seized him, and moved forward -to a large tree, whose massive trunk indicated its -strength. Here they bound him with strong sinews and -pieces of skin. His hands were tied in front, and a strong -cord was passed about his waist, and with it he was fastened -to the tree.</p> - -<p>This was all the work of the women, and they evinced -by their expedition and hideous laughs the pleasure they -found in their employment.</p> - -<p>The Sioux then went to see the body of their venerated -chief; on their return they found their victim firmly secured -to the tree. The son was bound at some little distance from -the father, while the daughter was sitting, hiding her face -between her hands, weeping for her father's situation. Pride -had all gone, only affection occupied her heart. The old -Chippeway was convinced now of his immediate sufferings; -he had been tranquil and unmoved until the return of the -warriors. Suddenly he shouted, in a loud voice, the wild -notes of his death-song.</p> - -<p>There was no failing in his voice; even his daughter turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span> -towards him with satisfaction as he extolled his life, and -expressed pleasure at the prospect of seeing the hunting-grounds -of the Great Spirit.</p> - -<p>As he ceased, Chashé told him he must rest from his -journey ere he commenced his long way to the land of souls. -"A great many winters ago," said the young Sioux, "my -father was in your country; you took him prisoner, you -bound him, and you told him what a good warm fire he -was to have to die by.</p> - -<p>"You said you loved him too well to let him be cold; -but while you were binding him he was too strong for you. -Unk-ta-he had made him brave; he bounded from your -grasp in sight of your warriors. He flew; your bravest men -chased him in vain. He came home and lived to an age -greater than yours.</p> - -<p>"The old war-chief is gone, or he would tell you how -welcome you are to his village. He was always hospitable -and loved to treat brave men well. But we must eat first, -or we cannot enjoy ourselves while you are so comfortable -with your old limbs burning."</p> - -<p>Expressions of approbation followed this speech on the -part of the Sioux, but there was no notice taken of it by the -Chippeway, who was now occupied in contemplating his -daughter. He had before seemed to be unconscious of her -presence.</p> - -<p>No bodily torture could equal the pang of the father, who -saw the utterly helpless and unhappy situation of his child. -His own fate was fixed—that caused him no uneasiness. -There was even a feeling of enthusiasm in the prospect of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> -showing his enemies how slight was their power over him; -how little he cared for any tortures they might inflict.</p> - -<p>But his young daughter, who would have been safe now -among her own people, but for her affection for him, which -induced her to remain by his side, refusing the opportunity -of escape.</p> - -<p>The Sioux saw his concern and rejoiced that this pang -was added to the torture: not only his own fate to bear, but -the consciousness that he had caused the destruction of both -his children. His son was surrounded while endeavouring -to protect his father.</p> - -<p>Thus will nature assert her right in the hearts of all her -children; but the Chippeway closed his eyes to all, save the -effort of appearing indifferent to his sufferings. Again he -sung his death-song, while the Sioux stretched themselves -upon the grass, eating the tender venison which had been -prepared for them, occasionally offering some to the Chippeway, -advising him to eat and be strong, that he might -bravely walk on his journey to the land of souls.</p> - -<p>While the Dacotas were eating and resting themselves, -the Chippeway chaunted his death-song; his son, apparently, -was unmoved by his own and his father's desperate -situation, but the daughter no longer endeavoured to restrain -her grief. Exhausted from fatigue and fasting, she -would gladly have known her own fate, even if death were -to be her mode of release from her distressing position.</p> - -<p>The Indians frequently offered her food. Chashé tried to -persuade her to eat: she indignantly rejected the attention, -her whole soul absorbed in her father's painful situation.</p> - -<p>She saw there was no hope: even had she not understood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> -their language, she could have read all in the fierce glaring -eyes of her enemies, the impatient gestures of the men, and -the eager, energetic movements of the women. The latter -were not idle: they were making arrangements for the burning -of the prisoner. Under his feet they piled small round -pieces of wood, with brush conveniently placed, so as to -kindle it at a moment's warning when all should be ready. -To their frequent taunts their victim paid no attention: this -only increased their anxiety to hasten his sufferings, young -and old uniting their strength.</p> - -<p>One woman struck him with the wood she was about to -lay at his feet, another pierced him with the large thorn she -had taken from the branch she held; but the loudest cries -of merriment and applause greeted the appearance of an old -creature, almost bowed together with the weight of a load -she was carrying, large pieces of fat and skin, which she was -to throw in the blaze at different times when it should be -kindled.</p> - -<p>The glare of day could not have made more perceptible -the horrid faces of the savages than did the brilliant moonlight. -Every sound that was uttered was more distinct, -from the intense quiet that pervaded all nature. The face -of the victim, now turned to the sky, now bent in scorn over -his enemies; that of his son, pale, proud, and indifferent; -the unrestrained grief of the girl, who only raised her head -to gaze at her father, then trembling, with sobs, hid it deeper -in her bosom; the malignant triumph of the Sioux men, the -excitement and delight of the women;—all these were distinctly -visible in the glowing brightness of the night.</p> - -<p>Was there no hope for the aged and weary old man? no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span> -chance that these stern, revengeful spirits might relent? -Will not woman, with her kind heart and gentle voice, ask -that his life may be spared? Alas! it is woman's work that -we are witnessing: they bound his limbs, they have beaten -him, and even now are they disputing for the privilege of -lighting the fire which is to consume him. Loud cries arise, -but the contention is soon quelled, for the deep bass voice -of the medicine-man is heard above theirs, and he says that -the newly made widow, and she alone, shall start the blaze, -and then all may join in adding fuel to the fire, and insult -to the present disgrace of the Chippeway warrior.</p> - -<p>And now the brush is piled round the wood and touches -the victim's feet, and the men lie still on the grass, knowing -their work will be well done, and the women who are -crowded together make a way for the widow to advance. -See her! the tears are on her cheek, yet there is a smile of -exultation too—the blood is streaming from her bosom and -her arms.</p> - -<p>With her left hand she leads her young son forward. In -her right she holds a large and flaming torch of pine. The -red light of the burning wood contrasts strangely with the -white light of the moon; the black smoke rises and is lost -in the fleecy clouds that are flying through the air.</p> - -<p>The silence is broken only by the heart-breaking sobs of -the Chippeway girl. The Sioux woman kneels, and carefully -holds the torch under the brush and kindling-wood. -She withdraws her hand, and soon there is something beside -sobs breaking the stillness. The dry branches snap, and -the women shout and laugh as they hear the crackling -sound. The men join in a derisive laugh; but above all is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span> -heard the loud, full voice of the victim. His death-chaunt -drowns all other sounds, yet there is not a tone of pain or -impatience in the voice; it is solemn and dignified; there is -even a note of rapture as he shouts defiance to his enemies -and their cruelty.</p> - -<p>The dry twigs snap apart, and the smoke curls around -the limbs of the prisoner: now the bright red flames embrace -his form.</p> - -<p>The warrior is still; he is collecting his energies and challenging -his powers of endurance.</p> - -<p>Chashé stood up. "My father," said he, "fled from the -fire of the Chippeways; but you like the fire of the Dacotas, -for you stand still."</p> - -<p>"The Sioux are great warriors," replied the Chippeway, -"when they fight old men and children," looking at the -same time towards his daughter.</p> - -<p>"But, is he an old man or a girl?" asked Chashé, pointing -to the younger Chippeway.</p> - -<p>"He is a great warrior," said the father, "but he was one -against many. He could not see his father and sister scalped -before his eyes. Had he fought man to man he would have -showed you the sharp edge of his tomahawk; but he is a -Chippeway, and knows how to suffer and to die."</p> - -<p>The noise of the fire drowned the old man's words, for -the women were amusing themselves by throwing on small -pieces of dry wood and portions of deer-fat, which, crackling -as it burned, rapidly consumed the body of the unfortunate -man.</p> - -<p>No suffering had, as yet, forced from him any cry of pain; -it was evident that nature would soon relieve him of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span> -agony. His heart had nigh ceased "beating its funeral -march." Even he, an untutored savage, felt that</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,</div> -<div class="i0">Was not spoken of the soul."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p>His fortitude to endure was increased by the thought that -soon the brilliant but mysterious future would be opened to -him.</p> - -<p>The Sioux were disappointed at his courage, and longed -to have their gratification completed by some acknowledgment -of his agony. An old and fierce-looking woman drew -her knife from her belt, and springing upon the high roots -of the tree, cut a deep gash between the shoulders of the -prisoner, then stooping, she raised in her hand a flaming -torch, which she applied to the fresh wound she had just -made. This agony was unendurable: a deathlike struggle -convulsed the heroic countenance of the sufferer; he uttered -a sharp and piercing cry; then, as if apologizing for his want -of firmness, exclaimed, "Fire is strong!"</p> - -<p>This sufficed for his enemies, and shouts of joy echoed -through the village, while the agonized daughter, unable -longer to endure the dreadful sight, sunk insensible on the -grass at her brother's feet.</p> - -<p>It was not long ere another shout announced the relief of -the Chippeway. The sweet hours of night had passed away -while they watched his noble firmness, and awaited his last -breath. During the last hour, long, low, black clouds had -been deepening in the far west; now and then a distant -murmur was heard, and faint flashes gleamed athwart the -water. A slight murmuring of the waves witnessed the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> -rising of the wind, and the Sioux separated to take a rest, -which they all needed.</p> - -<p>Seeing that their other prisoner was securely bound, they -left him to face the storm and the hideous spectacle of his -father's remains. Chashé raised the lifeless form of the girl -and carried her to his sister's wigwam.</p> - -<p>We-har-ka had taken no interest in the scene that had -been enacting; she slept soundly, fatigued with her wanderings -on the prairie and the indulgence of her grief. Chashé -laid his unconscious burden by the side of his sister. Enemies -as they were, the looker-on might observe a strong -bond of sympathy between them. Their young faces were -shadowed by grief,—that link which should unite, heart to -heart, every child of earth.</p> - -<div class="tb"> - * <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span> -</div> - -<p>The low sigh with which the Chippeway girl awoke from -her deathlike trance, did not awaken We-har-ka. Starting -up, she in a moment recalled the sad tragedy which had -just been enacted before her eyes, yet she could not account -for her being where she was. The wigwam was dark, except -when illuminated by vivid flashes of lightning, which -showed her the few articles of furniture and comfort that -adorned an Indian woman's home.</p> - -<p>The occasional pealing of the thunder, and We-har-ka's -breathing, were the only sounds she heard. A thousand -painful thoughts drove slumber from her eyelids. Her -father she knew was gone: she pressed her hand before her -eyes to recall, and then to chase away, the dreadful memory -that tortured her. She was spared; it might be for a slave, -or to be the wife of some one of her enemies. Her brother,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span> -she had no doubt, was still living: he had been reserved for -protracted tortures. Overcome by these thoughts she sank -again upon the ground, but not to sleep.</p> - -<p>Could nothing be suggested to give her comfort? She -cautiously raised the door of the wigwam, and by the red -lightning she saw her brother bound as she had left him. -Despair had nearly overpowered her once more, but the -natural energy of her mind returning, she looked again to -her own heart, to see if there was any hope. Should she -never see again the home so dear to her! Were she and -her bold brother to die by the hands of her father's murderers! -Oh! that she possessed a sharp knife, to sever the -thongs that bound him, how soon would they flee away as -the birds do when winter's winds are heard from the north!</p> - -<p>The idea once prominent in her mind, there was hope. -Another flash showed her the most minute objects in the -wigwam. Another directed her to the knife of We-har-ka, -which lay glittering by her breast. A few moments of intense -thought decided her: nerved by a sense of her own -and her brother's danger, she no longer hesitated. What -horrors could be greater than those by which she was surrounded! -What if she were detected and murdered at once! -Far better than to witness her brother's fate, and endure -her own.</p> - -<p>She placed herself near We-har-ka, then gently endeavoured -to remove the knife she coveted. The young heart -throbbed against her hand. Again she endeavoured to slide -the knife from its place. We-har-ka turned upon her side -as if disturbed. After a few moments had elapsed she once -more made the effort; and now, as it is clasped in her hand,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span> -her senses have well-nigh left her, for this time she is successful.</p> - -<p>But, well she knew there was no time for delay, nor even -for consideration. The deepest darkness of night was now -upon them; before long the morning twilight would be again -resting over the earth.</p> - -<p>The perfect and unusual repose of the Sioux was in her -favour; and, excited even to desperation, she determined to -endeavour to free her brother, and secure his and her own -escape.</p> - -<p>She first endeavoured to recall the situation of the principal -objects in the village. She did not, however, require -any effort of memory, for she could see distinctly where her -brother was bound, and the path that led to this point. The -storm's spirits were her friends: without the lightning she -could have accomplished nothing.</p> - -<p>There was a turn in the path that led through the village, -and once or twice she was at a loss how to proceed. She -would not be dismayed, though at times she feared her enemies -would hear the loud beatings of her heart. Guided by -the lightning, and resting for a moment when she feared her -footfall would give the alarm, she at length reached the spot.</p> - -<p>There had been no rest for the younger Chippeway. With -the heart-crushing spectacle before his eyes, he had only -given way to a horror at his father's sufferings, far more -dreadful to witness than to endure. There was, besides, -the anticipation of his own.</p> - -<p>Again and again he looked at the strong cords that bound -him. Could he for a short time possess the knife his enemies -had wrested from him!</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span></p> - -<p>Useless, indeed, to him, without assistance!</p> - -<p>Softer feelings, too, came in turn. His wife had been -murdered before his eyes, his young son crushed under the -feet of those who now lay sleeping tranquilly around him.</p> - -<p>The weary night was wearing on. There would be no -breaking of the day to him. There was no hope, but that -which pointed to the unknown future; no light but that -which glimmered from the silent land.</p> - -<p>A slight noise arouses his acute senses, and he turns his -head to that part of the village where were the greatest -number of lodges. It might be that the footstep was that -of some one of his foes, determined alone to enjoy the sight -of his death. Oh! what joy thus to be saved the reproaches -of his enemies, the laughing of the women, the sneers of all. -Eagerly he peers through the darkness, and the first brilliant -flash shows him the pale face of his sister, as she advances -towards him.</p> - -<p>Very near him slept, in a wigwam, two warriors who had -the charge of him. They might awake: this thought made -the very pulses of his life stand still.</p> - -<p>For at once he understood his sister's intention. He -knew her courage; he also knew that without an object she -would not be thus incurring the risk of arousing their enemies.</p> - -<p>Another flash, and she stood close by his side—her hand -was upon his, as she felt for the thongs that bound him. -One by one they were cautiously severed—slowly, for the -slightest noise might be fatal.</p> - -<p>It was hard work, too, for the maiden, for the sinews -were like iron, and her strength failed her under the repeated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span> -efforts she was obliged to make. There was no word -uttered,—their hearts silently conversed with each other. -Time passed, and he was almost free; he was himself severing -the last bond that detained him.</p> - -<p>It yielded. Once more he could stretch out his muscular -arm. Grasping his sister to his side, covered by the darkness -and the thunder, and the heavily commencing rain, -they made their way under the edges of the bluffs. The -young Chippeway knew the route: a short peace had existed -between the tribes, and he had more than once passed -through the village.</p> - -<p>At first their progress was slow and deliberate. There -was no faltering, though. They were without weapons, -with the exception of We-har-ka's knife. Hunger and -faintness were oppressing them, but the danger they were -in braced their hearts. As they began to leave the Sioux -village in the distance, hope gave vigour to their frames.</p> - -<p>After the day broke, the clouds were scattering, and the -sunbeams were dotting the hills that lay between them and -their foes. Still they could not rest. The wild plum was -their only nourishment; nor was it until night had again -shrouded the earth, and the young man laid his sister -in the hospitable lodge of a Chippeway village, that he -realized that he had been a prisoner and was again free.</p> - -<p>It were impossible to describe the rage of the Sioux on -ascertaining the escape of their prisoners. Chashé went -soon after their flight to his sister's wigwam. His sleep -had been restless, he thought of his dead relative, but he -thought more of the Chippeway girl, whom he had resolved to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span> -adopt<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">12</a> in place of his young wife, who had died recently. -Seeing his sister alone, he anxiously inquired of her what had -become of the girl. What was his surprise when she told him -there had been no one there; that when she arose, the storm -was passing over, but it was still dark, but that no one had -been in the lodge since then. Her brother, much irritated, -contradicted her, using the most violent language; yet it was -evident to him that his sister was unconscious of his having -laid the girl by her side.</p> - -<p>He turned away, and sought the scene of the last night's -torture. There were the burnt fagots, and the ghastly -remains. The smoke still curled and slowly rose from the -ashes, but neither of the prisoners was to be seen. The -thongs with which he had been bound lay on the ground.</p> - -<p>There was no room for doubt: brother and sister had fled; -and they lived so near the borders of the Chippeway country -that there was every reason to believe they were beyond -the reach of recovery.</p> - -<p>Disappointment and rage overspread his features. He -threw up the door of the lodge where the sentinels still -slept calmly. Pushing the foremost over with his foot, -"Where is your prisoner?" said he. "You are brave men, -that cannot take care of one Chippeway!"</p> - -<p>Starting to their feet, the sentinels at once became aware -of what had occurred. "Where is the girl?" they asked of -Chashé.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span></p> - -<p>"They are both gone," said he, "and they must both -have passed near you."</p> - -<p>"And where were you when the girl went?" replied one -of the sentinels. "You took her off with you, and if we -could not keep the man, you could not keep the woman."</p> - -<p>The inmates of the different lodges came forward to learn -what had happened. Here advances a brave, followed by -his young sons. The women throw down their bundles of -sticks, to feast themselves with a sight of the Chippeways -ere they commenced their usual avocations; but they only -expressed their sorrow by groans of disappointment. It was -decided that the fugitives should be pursued. A party of -the younger men set out without delay; they were warned, -however, not to go too near their enemy's country.</p> - -<p>Glowing with the expectation of recapturing the prisoners, -and, it might be, of bringing home more scalps, they were -anxious to set out. The old medicine-men reminded them -of their duty, gave them advice suitable to the occasion, and -then, with uplifted hands, called upon Wakeen Tonca, -Great Spirit, Father, to help them against their enemies.</p> - -<p>The close of another evening found the Sioux quiet, and -busy in drying venison, and the usual occupations of the -season. With the day, however, were closing their labours. -Often a cry of lamentation was heard from the lodge of the -Sioux who had recently been killed in battle.</p> - -<p>The body of Eagle Eye was deposited upon a high scaffolding. -His two children were still engaged at the burial-ground. -All cries of sorrow, usual at such times, were -hushed. The sides of the high hills were tinged with gold -and crimson. Some of these "mountains rose high, high<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span> -up, until they could look into the heavens and hear God in -the storm." The river was as calm as if no scene of cruelty -had ever been enacted on its banks.</p> - -<p>Round the frame where Eagle Eye's form was laid hung -his medicine-bag. Chashé placed a vessel of water near the -body. We-har-ka lightly lifted the bark dish of buffalo-meat<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">13</a> -and wild rice, where the soul of the departed warrior could -take it, and be refreshed when tired and hungry. Very -near him was buried his wife. Her bones had been gathered -and buried under the ground; branches of trees and -solid pieces of wood had been placed crosswise over her -grave, to protect it from the wolves.</p> - -<p>The graves and scaffolds were continued to the very edge -of the bluff, while flowers of the most brilliant hue sprung -up at the feet of the mourners, and clung to the low small -bushes that grew on the hilltop. The brother and sister -were preparing to come down, when We-har-ka perceived -the priest seated by one of the graves, apparently unconscious -of all that was passing around him. She approached -him, and softly laid her hand upon his shoulder. He -turned to her slowly, as if aroused from a dream of long -past years, and followed them to the village.</p> - -<p>His lodge was near hers, and she listened to his full rich -voice as he chaunted the vespers. Totally ignorant of what -he said, she was yet soothed by the sweet sounds, and after -they had ceased, unobserved by others, she sought him in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span> -his lodge, and night was closing over the earth as the -voices of the two mingled in earnest conversation.</p> - -<div class="tb"> - * <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span> -</div> - -<p>The Jesuit had long been anxious to take advantage of -the first opportunity that offered to return to Canada. -Here, his time was wasted and his health impaired to no -purpose. He had succeeded in learning the language of the -savages, so as to converse with them tolerably; but his mission -was as useless here as it would have been among the -wild beasts of Africa.</p> - -<p>Constantly exposed to danger, without the means of -living, except what he received from We-har-ka, and occasionally -from others, his time unoccupied, his life was a -burden. His health was not strong enough to enable him -to join in the hardy exercises and sports of the red men. -How anxiously, then, did he await the means of deliverance.</p> - -<p>There was an occasional intercourse with the tribes that -lived in the region of the great lakes: in this way he had -come among the Sioux, and he hoped thus to return to -Acadie. He passed hour after hour watching the approach -of canoes, hoping to recognise the tall, gaunt forms of the -Hurons, or some of those with whom the Sioux were on -friendly terms. Over but one human being, We-har-ka, -had he acquired the slightest influence. We have before -alluded to the rivalry of the two young men, Chashé and -the Beaver, for the disputed honour of being the war-chief of -the band. They belonged to opposite clans, which were -almost equally divided. It appeared evident that it could -only be decided by some act of bravery performed by one -of the parties.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span></p> - -<p>The aspirants had equal claims. They were each daring -in the greatest degree. Young, athletic, inured to fatigue -and hardships, thirsting like the war-horse for the battle. -Chashé owed his reputation in some degree to the reputation -of his grandfather, while on the other hand the Beaver's -courage made him feared by his own and the opposite clan.</p> - -<p>The long-continued feud between the two clans had been -more violent than ever since the death of the younger brother -of Chashé. His sickness was attributed to a spell -having been cast upon him by some one of the other clan. -Eagle Eye attributed his death to the family of the Beaver; -and so great was the hatred of the two clans<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">14</a> that murder -after murder occurred, and every sickness and disaster was -charged upon some individual, and thus revenge was constantly -sought.</p> - -<p>Especially was Eagle Eye dreaded; his powers as a medicine-man -were rated so high, that in passing by him many -avoided his observation—they dreaded lest he should, by an -undefined power, bring upon them the wrath of an evil -spirit. And each warrior wore beneath his richly embroidered -hunting-dress a charm, to protect him from a machination -that he feared.</p> - -<p>Yet did the Beaver love the sister of his rival, and he -had induced her to defy her brother's hot temper, and promise -him all her young affection. Love had made him eloquent, -and he persuaded her out of all the opinions she had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span> -imbibed from the time she was capable of forming one; while -he, blind to the attractions of all others, could only see -grace in her person.</p> - -<p>It was not likely his life would be safe should he marry -her, and remain among his own people; and could he yield -the chances of his high position among the braves with -whom he had grown up to the love of woman? He knew -that We-har-ka would leave all for him. The only question -was, could he make the sacrifice?</p> - -<p>They had closely kept their secret. We-har-ka had been -promised to a young man of her grandfather's clan. She -had from time to time delayed the marriage, by her influence -over the old man. The husband they had chosen for her -was the tried friend of her brother, styled among the Indians, -a comrade. Well did We-har-ka know how determined -was her brother's temper, and that he would force -her into the marriage after her grandfather's death, and -that, unless by some great effort, there was no hope.</p> - -<p>On the night of the return of the party, and the burning -of the prisoner, she had, indeed, gone to the prairies to weep; -but it was as much over the difficulties of her position as -the death of her relative. It was not without an object that -she had come forward to meet the war-party, and told them -her intention. When the excitement of the burning of the -Chippeway was at its height, her lover had left the group -of young men, and a short time brought him to We-har-ka's -side. After a few moments passed in the joy of reunion, -We-har-ka told him that her fate must soon be decided, and -implored him to take her away from their home, as their -only chance of happiness. They could go, she said, among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span> -the Sioux who lived on the Missouri, and there live free -from care.</p> - -<p>The young man did not answer her at first, and We-har-ka, -startled with the boldness of her own proposal, awaited his -answer, standing. Her arms were clasped over her breast, -and her eyes bent to the ground: the moonlight glittered -on the wampum which lay on her bosom, and flashed from -the silver cross suspended from her neck.</p> - -<p>At length the Indian broke out into angry abuse of her -brother and all connected with her. The colour varied in -her cheek, and her lips were more firmly compressed when -he charged them with cowardice, but still she spoke not. -She had counted the cost of his love, and knew, that to retain -it, she must resign even the natural impulses of her heart.</p> - -<p>She waited until the torrent of his passion had ceased, -then pointing to the dark clouds that were gathering in the -west, reminded him that they would be missed. The shout -that came from the village warned them too of the necessity -of separation. He then marked the agitation of her manner, -bade her return home, telling her that, after her father was -buried, he would come to the lodge of the Jesuit: at what -time he could not say, but not until some amusements should -engage the Sioux: then he would tell her his determination. -We-har-ka, overpowered with fatigue on her return to her -lodge, slept soundly, even with the Chippeway girl by her -side.</p> - -<div class="tb"> - * <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span> -</div> - -<p>We-har-ka sat in the wigwam of the Jesuit, listening to -the accounts of the grandeur of the churches and the magnificence -of the altars in the country where Father Blanc<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span> -had passed his youth. He pointed to the small figure of -Christ, on the altar of cedar wood, which he had constructed, -then told her of the large one of gold which he -had often knelt before in assisting in the ceremonies of the -church. We-har-ka, whose thoughts had been wandering -in quest of her lover, asked him again of the ever interesting -story of the death and sufferings of the Saviour. Like -those who witnessed the crucifixion, she wondered that that -Great Being should submit to such indignities. Her religion -would have justified resenting them. Yet she did not believe -it was true, loving still to hear it told over and over again; -especially was it agreeable to her now to while away the -hour until her lover, under pretence of speaking to the -priest, should find a chance of acquainting her with the -plans he had formed. She looked again at the familiar -objects on the altar. Again, as ever, she told the priest he -was good and kind, but that she knew the Great Spirit was -the father of all. Father Blanc's insinuating eloquence -touched her feelings, but her heart was unaffected: yet the -father, glad of a listener, even in the untutored Indian girl, -dwelt on scenes long past, and it might be forgotten by all -but him.</p> - -<p>When the moon rose they sat outside the lodge on a mat. -They were now both silent. The thoughts of the Jesuit -wandered far and wide: memory transported him to the -forests of Languedoc.</p> - -<p>There he pursued his studies, full of high hope and youthful -happiness. He wandered through the most beautiful -scenes of nature, and there was one by his side; her smile -was bent upon him, as she parted the long ringlets from her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span> -brow. He gazed again as he was wont when he bade her -good night, and wondered if angels smiled so sweetly when -they bore the dead to the regions of Paradise. Memory -changes the scene. Death and desolation are met; darkness -and beauty are blended strangely. Those angel eyes -are closed, but the sweet smile is there.</p> - -<p>Hushed lips bend over the bier where roses are lavishly -strewed. Echoes of grief are heard along the halls, as they -pass on with their beautiful burden to the house of death. -Then come the long nights of sorrow, the vigils of despair, -the renouncing of the hopes and pleasures of life: then the -morbid restlessness, the wish for death and forgetfulness. -Afterwards, the solitary life of the student, then the seclusion -of the cloister, and the longing to wear out life under a -different sky. He traced again his course, until he sat here, -a wanderer, by the side of the Indian girl.</p> - -<p>Her eyes were wandering over the brilliant scenes. The -stars seemed almost to rest on the body of her relative, as -she looked towards the burial-ground where she had passed -the day.</p> - -<p>The branches of the large trees were in perfect repose: -there was no wind to disturb them; and the gorgeous reflection -of the moon on the river seemed almost to illuminate -the village.</p> - -<p>Richly endowed with the poetry of nature, the anxious -girl felt calmed by the beauty and tranquillity of the scene. -The evening was passing away, and he had not come. Confident -of his affection, she determined to be patient. Sometimes -her friends would pass along and converse with her; -but they knew her heart was sad, deprived of the affectionate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span> -caresses of her relative. Her brother she had not seen since -they had returned together from the burial-ground, but she -supposed he was in one of the groups which were enjoying -the lovely quiet of the evening.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a wild and piercing cry arrests her attention. -Starting to her feet, almost frantic for a moment, she recognised -her brother's voice. Again it fell in one long, rich, -full cry on her ear.</p> - -<p>There was something unusual in that sound. There was -no defiance, no fear, no excitement in the voice. It was as -if the bald eagle, long watching and hovering over its prey, -had at length planted her talons in its side, and was fleeing -away far from human hope or protection. So clear was the -sound, so long its echo, that some doubted if it were indeed -a human voice.</p> - -<p>Not so with We-har-ka: pressing her clasped hands -tightly over her heart, turning her marble face to the -heavens, she knew it all. That was not the cry indicating -the presence of enemies; her heart would not have quailed -before it as it did now: it was the announcement of the -gratification of a long-cherished revenge. Her lover's absence -was explained. Only a moment, however, was given -to conflicting thoughts. The young girl moved forward, and, -as it were, pioneered the others to the quarter from whence -the sound proceeded. There was no shrinking in her slight -form: she might have been taken for some spirit returned -to earth to accomplish some high purpose, unconscious of -aught save its own mission.</p> - -<p>Passing on to a rock, whence you could see the beautiful -valley that spread out before them, the whole story was told -in a moment.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span></p> - -<p>Chashé stood as if expecting witnesses; in his bearing -there was a frightful exultation that ill accorded with the -other circumstances of his position. In his hand he held the -knife, from which drops of blood were slowly falling on his -dress. He watched them with a savage laugh of delight. -His figure seemed taller, by half, in the moonlight, its long -shadow fell so darkly over the grass. He was not alone, -for easily could all recognise the manly and noble form of -the man he hated, at his feet. Well they know that it was -death alone that could keep him there. The blood was -oozing from his heart: and they could, even at the distance -from whence they first saw him, distinguish the marble -paleness of his features.</p> - -<p>A loud shout now arose from the Indians as they pressed -forward. They were divided as to the interest in this scene. -The friends of Chashé exulted with him, and those of the -other clan called for revenge. It seemed uncertain how the -excitement of the crowd would show itself, when it was -diverted for a moment by the appearance of We-har-ka. -She rapidly slid down the rocks, which it was necessary to -pass, in order to reach the two young men. None of them -could keep up with her, so quick and shadowy were her -movements.</p> - -<p>Throwing herself on the ground beside her lover, she made -the most frantic efforts to staunch the flowing of the wound. -She tore up the grass, and pressing it together, placed it -against the wound; but the blood continued to flow in spite -of all her efforts. Her bearing, calm and collected at first, -now changed with the evident hopelessness of the case; her -wild and frantic screams pierced the air as she threw herself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span> -upon his body. Her brother seized her roughly by the arm, -indignant at this show of affection; but she shrank from his -touch, and again springing to his side, before he could divine -her purpose, she had wrested the knife from his grasp and -pierced it deep in her own breast. Chashé caught it from -her ere she could a second time bury it in her bosom; but -she glided from him and ascended the bluff over which she -had passed to reach the dreadful spot. A stream of blood -follows in her path. Now she has reached the edge of the -precipice: she springs, and the noise of the dashing waves -mingles with the cry of horror that arises from the witnesses -of her self-destruction.</p> - -<p>The Indians were obliged to return to their village in -order to arrive at the place where were their canoes. Every -effort was made, but in vain, to recover the body of the unfortunate -girl. She was never seen again.</p> - -<p>Father Blanc soon after returned to Acadie with a party -who were going that route. He was thankful to leave the -scene of such accumulated horrors. He had become warmly -attached to the young Sioux maiden, whose early sorrows -had been impressed on his memory. The horrors of that -night were written in characters of blood: nor did he ever -relate the incident without trembling at the recollection. -He found in the Canada Indians more tractable scholars,—at -least, when they feared the cannon of the French.</p> - -<p>There is reason to conclude that the efforts of the Jesuits -among the aborigines of our country left no abiding impression -of good: but, like the waters which the tall ships have -passed over, they were agitated for a while from their usual -course, then returned to their restless surging as before.</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> -<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4">4</a> The names Sioux and Dacota are applied to the same nation; the Indians -themselves recognising and preferring the latter name. The little -that is known of them is given in the introduction to Dacota, or Legends of -the Sioux. They have, for many years, been considered a powerful, warlike, -and interesting people. They formerly possessed the knowledge of -many things of which they are now totally ignorant. They retain the greatest -attachment to their country and their religion.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5">5</a> For every scalp taken by a Sioux in battle he is entitled to wear a -feather of the War Eagle. This is an ornament greatly esteemed among -them.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6">6</a> The Dacotas believe thunder to be a bird. It would be impossible to -enumerate their gods, they are so numerous; but the thunder is much feared -as being one of the most powerful. In living among them you constantly -see representations of these gods, drawn and carved on the various articles -that are used among them.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7">7</a> Wampum is a long bead made of the inside of a shell, white and of dark -purple colour; it is very much valued by the Indians, used as necklaces; -the women esteem nothing more highly than a string or two of wampum. -It has frequently been used as currency among the different tribes; but in -making treaties it is strung and made into a belt, and at the close of a -speech is presented to the other party as a pledge of good faith.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8">8</a> Among the Sioux it is customary to inflict wounds, sometimes deep -and severe ones, upon themselves on the occasion of the death of a friend. -The arms of aged people are frequently seamed with scars.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9">9</a> Acadia, or Acadie, was the ancient name for what is now called Nova -Scotia. Before the latter name was used in the act of incorporation by the -British Parliament, Acadie was within the jurisdiction of Lower Canada.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10">10</a> The Sioux and Chippeways seem to be natural enemies. Peace has been -declared between the two nations time and again, but never has it been sustained, -although the United States Government has made every effort to -and even compel them to forego their ancient enmity.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11">11</a> Wakeen-stone. The Sioux choose stones as objects of worship. We -find them frequently on their thoroughfares; they never pass these without -stopping to smoke, or to make some slight offering, such as tobacco, a -feather, an arrow, or a trinket.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12">12</a> Young persons taken prisoners in battle are often adopted, in the place -of some lost relative. They are then treated with the kindness usually -shown towards a dear and valued friend.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13">13</a> The Sioux believe in the duality of the soul,—one going to the land of -spirits, while one hovers round the grave, requiring nourishment. Some -few of their wise people believe that each body claims more than two souls, -assigning an occupation for each; but this is not the prevailing opinion.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14">14</a> In a Sioux village there are different clans, known by the peculiar medicine -that each uses, each clan claiming superior power, resting in a spell, -which the medicine man or woman can throw upon those of the opposite -party.</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter newpage"> - <img src="images/i_068a.jpg" alt="St. Anthony Falls" /> - <div class="caption"> - <span class="xsmall">C. Schuessele del. Drawn by Cap<sup>t.</sup> S. Eastman. Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph.</span><br /> - <span class="vspace"> </span><br /> - THE LAUGHING WATERS,<br />Three miles below The Falls of S<sup>t.</sup> Anthony. - </div> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="style1" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>THE LAUGHING WATERS.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - -<p class="center in0 p1t p1b">A few miles from the Falls of St. Anthony are The Little Falls, or, as the Sioux call them, The -Laughing Waters.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i4">Do you know where the waters laugh?</div> -<div class="i4">Have you seen where they playfully fall?</div> -<div class="i2">Hid from the sun by the forest trees green,</div> -<div class="i2">(Though its rays do pierce the vines between,)</div> -<div class="i2">Dancing with joy, till, night-like, a screen</div> -<div class="i0">Comes down from the heavens at the whippoorwill's call.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i4">Come with me, then, we will tread</div> -<div class="i4">On a carpet of long grass and flowers.</div> -<div class="i2">The wild lady's slipper we'll pluck as it droops,</div> -<div class="i2">We will watch the proud eagle, as from heaven she stoops,</div> -<div class="i2">A seat we will take by the dark leafy nooks,</div> -<div class="i0">Where a fairy might while away summer's bright hours.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i4">From on high, the gay waters come!</div> -<div class="i4">At first, how they lazily creep</div> -<div class="i2">O'er embedded rocks, while agates so bright</div> -<div class="i2">Here and there greet the sun, by noonday's strong light,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span> -<div class="i2">And again dimly glance when stars come at night,</div> -<div class="i0">To watch where the Father of Waters' waves sleep.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i4">How mildly they laugh as they haste!</div> -<div class="i4">Now they near the spot where they will spring,</div> -<div class="i2">Lightly clearing the distance to the pebbles below,</div> -<div class="i2">Where, tired with the effort, more calmly they flow,</div> -<div class="i2">While the glistening spray, and the foam white as snow,</div> -<div class="i0">Their light o'er the rocks and the dancing waves fling.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i4">At evening how often will come</div> -<div class="i4">The wild deer to drink and to rest;</div> -<div class="i2">Till frightened away by the nighthawk's loud scream,</div> -<div class="i2">They flee to the shades where the wood spirits dream,</div> -<div class="i2">And sink to repose by the moonlight's fair beam,</div> -<div class="i0">Like the babe by its mother's soft smile lulled to rest.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i4">And here does the tall warrior stand,</div> -<div class="i4">With the maiden he loves by his side!</div> -<div class="i2">He tells her to list while the fairies do quaff</div> -<div class="i2">Their cupful, and shout, and then wildly laugh,</div> -<div class="i2">For they know that she leans on his love like a staff,</div> -<div class="i0">Which will ever support her in life's changing tide.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i4">'Twould be well, did ye weep, waters bright!</div> -<div class="i4">Soon no more to thy banks will they come,—</div> -<div class="i2">The maiden who loves, or the warrior so brave,</div> -<div class="i2">The wild deer at eve, in thy waters to lave,</div> -<div class="i2">The song-bird to dip its bright wing in thy wave,</div> -<div class="i0">When the shadows that fall with the night are all gone.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i4">The Indian's reproach ye might hear,</div> -<div class="i4">Did ye listen, fair waves, to the sound!</div> -<div class="i2">Are you gay, when you know of the tears we have shed,</div> -<div class="i2">When profaned are the graves of our fathers long dead,</div> -<div class="i2">When haunted our lands, by the white man's proud tread,</div> -<div class="i0">As he passes o'er rock and o'er prairie and mound?</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i4">For ages we've loved thy fair stream!</div> -<div class="i4">No more can we claim thee, no more</div> -<div class="i2">Will the warrior sing his war-song in thy ears,</div> -<div class="i2">Will the mother who comes for her child to shed tears,</div> -<div class="i2">Will the maiden who prays to the spirit she fears,</div> -<div class="i0">Gaze on thy bright waves, or rest by thy shore?</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>O-KO-PEE.<br /> -<span class="small">A MIGHTY HUNTER OF THE SIOUX.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - -<p>It is impossible for one possessed of kind and generous -feelings to pass a grave without mournful reflections. -Though a stately monument rise over it, it covers the work -of death. The mouldering form was once as full of joy and -care, of tears and rejoicings, as we;—a being who performed -his part in the theatre of life, but who has now, -for ever, taken his place behind the closed curtain. And if -it be the resting-place of the poor and unknown, we must -feel too: the rude stone at the head, the weeds springing -up, the indifference of the merry children as they play -around it, do not take from the claim that was once possessed -by the form that is fast mingling with its native -earth, to have been one of the many toilers after a happiness -never obtained, a rest never enjoyed on earth! How have -passed away many of the nations of the earth. Some have -noble monuments. Egypt, Greece, Rome, Palmyra, and -the Aztecs, who flourished upon our own shores—gems of -wealth and learning are heaped upon their graves; the undying -wreath of fame crowns their memory. The older the -world, the better they will be known. As time advances,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span> -so will increase our knowledge of their history and laws—their -hieroglyphics will be understood, throwing light upon -things hitherto a mystery to us.</p> - -<p>But not so with our Indian nations; they must depart -with hardly a memorial of their existence. Few now care -to learn aught that one day may be spoken in memory -of a noble people passed away; few now reflect that the -soul of this people stands winged for its flight.</p> - -<div class="tb"> - * <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span> -</div> - -<p>Some recollections of the time passed among the Northwestern -Indians are very delightful to me, but many are -equally sad—none more so than the history of a poor idiot -creature with whom we were well acquainted.</p> - -<p>O-ko-pee, "The Nest." I have often reflected upon his -eventful life, and melancholy death—his patience and humility, -the muscular strength of his form, and the passionless -expression of his features. The mortal tenement was -able and healthful when I first knew him, but the spiritual -no longer animated it; indeed, as a companion he was no -better than the game he hunted, for his mind was gone.</p> - -<p>When overcome with hunger he would tell us how very -long it was since he had eaten. He knew, too, when he -was cold, for he would direct our attention to his threadbare -clothing. Like the prairie deer or buffalo, he would seek -shelter from the storm or burning sun; but though he might -once have reflected upon the occupations of a disembodied -spirit, when it should be released from the shackles of earth, -he had long since ceased to do so. His mind floated on the -stormy waves of life, like the wreck at sea, far alike from -light, hope, or help.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span></p> - -<p>His life was an eventful one for an Indian's. Born when -the Sioux were not dependent upon white people, he trod -his native earth with the consciousness of owning it. He -routed up the timid grouse from the prairies, and brought -down the red-head and wood-duck on the wing, never fearing -that they and he would be chased from the haunts they -loved. Often, when a small boy, would he kill the plover -and woodcock in numbers, carrying them to his mother as -trophies of his skill. How gaily he laughed as for the first -time he stayed the fleet course of the wild deer, and watched -her panting, as she lay beside the brook, looking for the last -time at her own image in its clear waters, longing to suage -the thirst of death with its refreshing coolness.</p> - -<p>His bones were still tender and his frame small when he -sped his wild horse among the buffalo, sending his lance -into their sides, and shouting as they tore up the earth, -roaring in their agony. Was he in danger from the restiveness -of his horse? he knew he had only to fix his black -eye upon the revengeful buffalo, and, by the power of the -soul speaking there, subdue his rage. The eye of man meeting -the eye of beast, never turning or yielding its glance, -would quell the passions of the animal, and he would be -safe.</p> - -<p>He could not stay in the wigwam, even for an hour: -child of the woods and prairies, he needed only their companionship. -The streams, the rocks, and hills were the -friends whose society he loved. Among them he could -"commune with his own heart, and be still."</p> - -<p>Threading the passes among the hills, or stepping from -point to point on the dangerous rocks by the shore, he ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span> -took the lead in the chase, and early gained the reputation -of being the most famous hunter among the Sioux. How -he obtained the soubriquet of "The Nest"<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">15</a> I know not, but -he retained it through all the varying events of his life on -earth, and it has followed him to the Indian's unhallowed -grave, over which hovers no spirit of hope, but the dark -and fallen angels of ignorance and superstition.</p> - -<p>As O-ko-pee approached to manhood, the English claimed -and obtained jurisdiction over the Sioux. But the hunter, -well acquainted with his own laws, showed no inclination -to meddle with those of another nation, who showed the -might of right.</p> - -<p>Perhaps he did not feel with the many, who were more -sensitive and less happy, the soul-destroying anticipation of -slavery. So long as he had his lance and bow and arrow, -what cared he for innovation? and he was too ignorant of -the economy of nations to recognise the fact that when a -people loses the right of self-government, it yields for ever -the power of advancing in strength or happiness.</p> - -<p>Living in his own world, turning his eyes in adoration to -the sun he worshipped, he believed the Great Spirit would -not interfere with his concerns farther than to punish him -should he neglect to celebrate the feasts and customs of his -nation, or turn from the faith of his ancestors. Never was -he happier than when listening to the flapping of the wings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span> -of the mischievous thunder-birds, the gods of his nation, as -they roused themselves at the bright and forked streaks in -the heavy clouds.</p> - -<p>There were many, however, among the Sioux who would -not willingly yield to the oppressions of the English, as they -now would gladly resent, had they the power to do so, the -encroachments of the people of the United States. Thus, -a Dacota, who had received a personal injury from an -Englishman, determined to take an opportunity of resenting -it; he did so, according to Indian rules of strategy. -He watched when his victim was unawares, and took -aim successfully, then plunging into the thick forests, was -lost to the search of his foes, as was the dead Englishman, -to the distress of his family. The English pursued -a system then which has since been adopted by our own -countrymen; a system sometimes productive of great injustice, -yet, under the peculiar circumstances, the best one -that could be fixed on. I allude to that of taking hostages, -and retaining them until the offender should be given up.</p> - -<p>O-ko-pee, who had dreamed away his childhood among -the most beautiful scenes of nature, found himself a prisoner, -torn from the objects which were dear to him as life; -nay, they were his life, for deprived of them he sunk to the -level of the beasts of the forests.</p> - -<p>Immured in a prison, far from the refreshing air of his -native hills, shut in by the bars he vainly strove to loosen -or to break, seeing no more the bear, the buffalo, the otter, -or the deer, his heart was broken.</p> - -<p>After many years of imprisonment, useless, for the real -murderer never was found, he was turned loose, like an animal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span> -from whence the owner can no longer derive either -amusement or profit: he returned mechanically to his former -occupation. Once again free in the woods, he was soon -a laughing-stock for the Sioux. "He has no heart since he -was prisoner to the white man!" they cried, as he passed to -the prairies, with his vacant look and humbled demeanour. -Where was the proud glance and the free step? Ask those -who with the iron arm of power punished the innocent for -the guilty.</p> - -<p>Still, as ever, he followed the chase—thirteen deer did he -kill in one day, and never tired of hunting, even as age advanced -seemed to increase his passion for roaming.</p> - -<p>Often has he come to us with every variety of game, -never breaking his word, whatever might be the state of the -weather. But in coming or going, giving or receiving, his -demeanour and countenance never changed; his eyes were -wandering in vacancy, save when the fire-water, given by -the white man in exchange for the soft furs he brought him, -would tinge his sallow cheeks with the flush of madness, -and lighten his eye with the glances of a fiend, and change -from the sober quiet and calmness of the unhappy idiot to -the noisy, reeling, hellish figure, which seemed a visitant -from the world of darkness rather than a suffering inhabitant -of earth.</p> - -<p>O-ko-pee is dead. It is not mine to say whether or not, -in another state of existence, he enjoys happiness sufficient -in degree to make up for the heavy trials of life: I have -only to do with him here; and as I have said he lived a -sacrifice to the all-conquering and indomitable spirit of the -Saxon race, so did he die.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span></p> - -<p>Some years ago, a band of Sioux, distant from Fort Snelling, -attacked a party of Winnebagoes, taking fourteen scalps. -Hearing that the scalps were carried from village to village, -and danced round day after day, there was a party sent -from the Fort to take these scalps from the Indians, as there -was a fear lest the hot blood of the young warriors should -be roused, and serious difficulties would then occur between -the two tribes. So the scalps were brought into the Fort; -the affair was reported at Washington. The Winnebagoes -asked for indemnity for the injuries they had received, and -the authorities at Washington decided that four thousand -dollars should be paid to the Winnebagoes out of the annuities -received by the Sioux from our own government. It -was in the summer: the Indian potato, hard and indigestible, -was just ripening: the corn was green. The Sioux -were without flour and other provisions; even if game had -been abundant, they had neither powder nor shot. They -pined away by fever and weakness; death stalked among -them like a giant, laughing as he crushed to earth men who -were like children beside him.</p> - -<p>Was there no help for them? the mandate had gone forth. -The children fell to the ground dying for want of nourishment; -the strong man clung to the trees for support, and the -gray-haired leaned against the insensible rocks. Few there -were who could bring down the game with their bows and -arrows as did their forefathers, and the white people were -crowding in their country and driving the game back where -they were too feeble to pursue it.</p> - -<p>Then came forward the kind missionaries to the aid of -their unhappy friends. How liberally they shared with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span> -them all that they possessed, striving too to quiet their -minds, agitated by burning fever. They gave them medicine -and food, supporting the dying mother and taking -charge of the infant and the aged. They sought to assuage -the agonies of exhausted nature, directing in its flight the -restless spirit standing upon the borders of life to that happy -place where hunger and sickness are unknown.</p> - -<p>It was on one of the warmest days of summer when my -little children, with their father, crossed the St. Peter's, and -advanced towards the trading establishment at Mendota. -On the shores of the river one wigwam was placed, and, attracted -by the groans of anguish which proceeded from it, -they entered. It was O-ko-pee dying; yes, dying as he had -lived, a sacrifice to the white man's rule—dying as he had -lived, alone.</p> - -<p>No friend supported his aching head, which was burning -with fever, or chafed the cold limbs covered with ashes. -Indeed, his head was pillowed on a bed of ashes. He recognised -his visiters, and seeing their young faces solemnized -by what they had never before witnessed, the presence of -death, he spoke to them by name, said he was sick, and -asked them for medicine. It was too late for medicine or -sympathy; in another hour O-ko-pee, the hunter of the -Sioux, was gone for ever from the earth.</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> -<p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15">15</a> It is customary, when an Indian advances towards manhood, for him -to lose the name bestowed upon him in childhood, obtaining another by -some peculiarity of appearance or conduct, some daring action or violent -passion; thus, Sleepy Eyes, is the name of a chief among the Sioux, from -the drowsy expression of his countenance.</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>CHEQUERED CLOUD.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">THE AGED SIOUX WOMAN.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">I would tell you of a friend of mine:</div> -<div class="i2">She's neither rich nor fair;</div> -<div class="i0">The snows of many winters</div> -<div class="i2">Have bleached her raven hair.</div> -<div class="i0">The brightness of her large black eye</div> -<div class="i2">Has been dimmed for many years;</div> -<div class="i0">And the furrows in her cheek were made</div> -<div class="i2">By time and shedding tears.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">She is an Indian woman,</div> -<div class="i2">And me has often told</div> -<div class="i0">Traditions of her native land,</div> -<div class="i2">And legends sung of old;</div> -<div class="i0">Of battles fiercely fought and won,</div> -<div class="i2">Of the warrior as he fell,</div> -<div class="i0">While he tried to shield from a fearful death</div> -<div class="i2">The wife he loved so well.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Ask her whence her nation came:</div> -<div class="i2">With a smile she will reply,</div> -<div class="i0">"The Dacotas aye have owned this land,</div> -<div class="i2">Where the eagle soars so high;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> -<div class="i0">Where Mississippi's waters flow,</div> -<div class="i2">Through bluffs and prairies wide;</div> -<div class="i0">Where by Minesota's sandy shore</div> -<div class="i2">The wild rice grows beside."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Ask her of her warrior sons,</div> -<div class="i2">Who rose up by her side—</div> -<div class="i0">Enah! in the fearful battle,</div> -<div class="i2">And by sickness they have died—</div> -<div class="i0">And of her gentle daughter:</div> -<div class="i2">See the tear steals lowly down,</div> -<div class="i0">As the memory of the slaughter</div> -<div class="i2">Of that frightful night comes on.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Many have been her sorrows,</div> -<div class="i2">While ever to her breast</div> -<div class="i0">Sickness or want or suffering came,</div> -<div class="i2">Like a familiar guest.</div> -<div class="i0">Yet, she says there was a time</div> -<div class="i2">When her step was light and free,</div> -<div class="i0">And her voice as joyous as the bird</div> -<div class="i2">That sings in the forest tree.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">I said she was my friend:—</div> -<div class="i2">I am not one of those,</div> -<div class="i0">Who from the wealthy or the great</div> -<div class="i2">Companionship would choose.</div> -<div class="i0">The soul that animates her frame</div> -<div class="i2">Is as gifted and as free,</div> -<div class="i0">And will live for ever,—like the one</div> -<div class="i2">That God has given me.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">She worships the Great Spirit,</div> -<div class="i2">Yet often does she tell</div> -<div class="i0">Of the fairies that inhabit</div> -<div class="i2">Mountain, river, rock, and dell.</div> -<div class="i0">She will say to kill a foe</div> -<div class="i2">Of religion is a part;</div> -<div class="i0">Yet underneath her bosom beats</div> -<div class="i2">A kind and noble heart.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">She has ever loved to listen</div> -<div class="i2">To the savage shout and dance;</div> -<div class="i0">To see the red knife glisten</div> -<div class="i2">O'er the dying Chippeway's glance.</div> -<div class="i0">To watch the prisoner, burning,</div> -<div class="i2">Confronting at the stake</div> -<div class="i0">His enemies, who vainly strive</div> -<div class="i2">His spirit proud to break.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Judge her kindly,—and remember,</div> -<div class="i2">She was not taught in youth</div> -<div class="i0">To bend the knee and lift the heart</div> -<div class="i2">To the God of love and truth.</div> -<div class="i0">"Love ye your foes," said He who brought</div> -<div class="i2">To us the golden rule;</div> -<div class="i0">But "eye for eye," was the maxim taught</div> -<div class="i2">In the ancient Jewish school.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">We know it was a beggar</div> -<div class="i2">Who in Abraham's bosom slept,—</div> -<div class="i0">And, haply, her ancestors</div> -<div class="i2">By Babylon's waters wept.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span> -<div class="i0">While poor, like Lazarus, it may be,</div> -<div class="i2">From Israel's stock has come</div> -<div class="i0">The red man, tracing out on earth</div> -<div class="i2">His God-forgotten doom.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Well I knew, when last we parted,</div> -<div class="i2">That, if ever we met more,</div> -<div class="i0">'Twould be when life's sweet sympathies</div> -<div class="i2">And painful cares are o'er.</div> -<div class="i0">She said, while down her aged face</div> -<div class="i2">The tears coursed rapidly,</div> -<div class="i0">"Many a white woman have I known,</div> -<div class="i2">But you were kind to me."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Not half as dear to the miser</div> -<div class="i2">Is the yellow gold he saves,—</div> -<div class="i0">Or the pearl, to the venturous diver,</div> -<div class="i2">Which he seeks beneath the waves,</div> -<div class="i0">Or the summer breeze, to the drooping flower,</div> -<div class="i2">Fresh from the balmy South,</div> -<div class="i0">As those grateful words which slowly came</div> -<div class="i2">From the Indian woman's mouth.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">She has struggled with the ills of life;</div> -<div class="i2">For her no parent's prayers</div> -<div class="i0">Have risen to the throne of God,</div> -<div class="i2">To sanctify life's cares.</div> -<div class="i0">But God will judge her kindly:</div> -<div class="i2">He sees the sparrow fall;</div> -<div class="i0">And, through his Son's atoning blood,</div> -<div class="i2">May he mercy show to all!</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>FIRE-FACE.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - -<p>Fire-face was willing to die, he said, but not until he -had killed another white man. He was sincere in acknowledging -hatred towards the people of the United States. -There was no doubt but he had stained his hands with the -blood of one white man; but this did not satisfy him: let -him take the life of another, and he was willing to be made -prisoner, and to meet what punishment might be designed -for him. The mantle of Cain had indeed fallen upon him; -his heart was turned even from his own people, and angry -threatenings were ever upon his lips, against those with -whom he had grown up side by side. Wabashaw, chief of -one of the bands of Sioux on the Mississippi, left his home, -where the prairies stretch out to the distance, without even -a hill to relieve the level sameness, or trees to shelter them -from the short but intense heat of the summer, to encamp, -by permission, on the St. Peter's River, opposite Fort Snelling. -Fire-face, one of the band, was with them, accompanied -by his two wives.</p> - -<p>He was feared by all of the band; even the brave chief -Wabashaw, whose life he had threatened, turned from the -fierce gaze of the man, over whom had been cast a spell -from the spirits of evil, for he frowned alike upon friend -and foe. Only his wives seemed easy when he was near,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span> -and they not only feared but loved the strange being, whose -hand was against every man's.</p> - -<p>He passed the most of his time seated near his lodge, -with his medicine-bag hanging near; his implements of war -and hunting glistening in the light, and his loaded gun ever -by his side.</p> - -<p>Many efforts had been made to apprehend this desperate -man, yet he had always eluded the pursuit of the soldiers; -and now, although aware of the danger he was in, when -living so near the garrison, he appeared to be perfectly -unconcerned, saying, he knew the soldiers would make -every effort to arrest him; but that he would never be -taken until another of the pale faces had fallen by his arm. -Wabashaw, the chief, frequently visited the Fort, always -accompanied by his late friend Many Lightnings, and on -every occasion he pressed the necessity of taking Fire-face -prisoner. "He was a bad Indian," said Wabashaw, "who -loved to see blood; and, if allowed to go at liberty, some -one would be murdered by him."</p> - -<p>The chief said that he did not sleep at night in his -own lodge, but went for safety to the near village of Mendoto, -where he remained until the sun was high in the -heavens the next day. In consequence of these representations, -a party of soldiers was sent to arrest him, and the -Indians were to assist in the capture.</p> - -<p>Fire-face was on the lookout: he appeared to show himself -in the way of danger for the pleasure of overcoming it. He -would remain at ease until the party was near him; and then, -like an arrow from the bow, he would fly through the village, -no man daring to stay him: and you might as well have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span> -attempted to catch the sunbeam on the waters as the hunted -man. Pursuit was unavailing, and the soldiers each time -returned disappointed to the Fort.</p> - -<p>He would soon come back to the encampment. What a -courage was his, thus purposely throwing himself in the -way of danger, knowing too that he had not one friend to -whom he could turn. His frightened, helpless family alone -cared for him. It was evidently a pleasure to him to be in -a situation of peril, to show his adroitness in extricating -himself.</p> - -<p>About ten o'clock one night he sat in his lodge, gloomily -meditating on his position. Could he eventually escape the -pursuit of his enemies? Was he not a doomed man, when -the bands of friendship were severed between him and those -with whom he had fought, and whose lives had been tracing -an even course with his?</p> - -<p>The children's heavy breathing was the only sound that -could be heard. His wives sat mute in the lodge. He had -been hunted to the death, and now sleep was overcoming -him, and his watchfulness was yielding to his fatigue; while -he thought to lay his tomahawk beside him, and seek repose, -the door of his lodge was turned aside, and the long-knives -(as the soldiers were called) were upon him.</p> - -<p>Their exulting looks were met by his calmest demeanour: -he offered no resistance; but when the soldiers placed their -hands upon his wrists to secure the captive, he glided from -their grasp as easily as a serpent might pass from the touch -of a child; he bounded from their sight, and again they -vainly sought the strange man: the protecting shades of -night were about him, and he knew full well the hiding-places<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span> -of the neighbourhood. When out of their reach he -laughed as he looked at his oiled hands and arms, for <i>there</i> -was the secret of his escape.</p> - -<p>Morning found him again in his lodge, calm, fearless as -ever. The Sioux thought he must wear a charmed life, -and they kept from the reach of his arm: and the children, -even his own, played where they could not see his dark face -as he watched their amusements.</p> - -<p>There is a spell, however, that few Indians can resist; it -is to them an unfailing quietus for care: they can fancy -they are free when fire-water quickens the coursing of their -veins. They curse the white man from the heart, and hope -and look forward to the time when the red man shall have -his own again. They then forget that the outstretched -arms of desolation are ready to clasp them, and that destruction, -like the night-bird, is hovering over their heads -with its hoarse cry sounding to their hearts.</p> - -<p>Fire-face could not refuse the charm. The Indians pressed -it upon him, and then informed the soldiers that they were -going out with the intention of hunting, as Fire-face thought, -that on this occasion he might be followed and taken.</p> - -<p>The party went on their route, stopping occasionally to -drink and to smoke. Fire-face, overcome by the liquor he -had drank, could hardly keep up with them. His gun -swung carelessly from his shoulder, and his usual gravity -was changed for a loud and boisterous cheerfulness.</p> - -<p>"The white people fear me," he said, laughing; "well -they may, for my arm is strong, and before I die I will kill -another of them. I have already murdered a white man, -and should be satisfied if one of their women died by my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span> -tomahawk. I should like to take her scalp with the long -light hair hanging from it."</p> - -<p>The Indians still encouraged him to drink, and as the -morning advanced he became the more unfitted to pursue -his way. From a state of passion and excitement he had -passed into one of stupor: at length he rested himself against -a tree, and alternately muttered and dozed.</p> - -<p>In the mean time soldiers were following him up. Wabashaw -gave information of the path Fire-face had taken, -and they were soon upon him.</p> - -<p>He was a prisoner at last, and that consciousness sobered -him. His hands were bound. One of the Sioux, indignant -at this proceeding, attempted to cut the straps, but was -pushed off. After a slight delay, the soldiers returned with -him to the garrison.</p> - -<p>He continually reproached himself with his own unwatchfulness, -telling the soldiers that he had always intended -killing one of them ere he should be in their power. He -mournfully said it was too late now to accomplish his purpose.</p> - -<p>At about six o'clock in the afternoon he was brought into -the Fort. The news of his capture had reached the encampment -of Wabashaw on the opposite side of the river, -and as he approached the guard at the gate of the Fort, a -number of Sioux wore seen watching him. His two wives -stood there, and as their husband's figure passed, guarded -and bound, they literally lifted up their voices and wept.</p> - -<p>Fire-face, in the mean time, was turned over to the tender -mercies of the guard, and he was soon seated at the grated -window of his cell. I had heard a great deal of the man,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span> -and thought that one who combined so many terrible traits -of character must show it in his countenance: in order to -see this singular being, I determined to visit him in his cell. -We passed the guard-room and entered his dark and dreary-looking -place of confinement. His back was to us, as he -was looking through the bars of his window towards his -home. Hearing some one approach, he turned to us with an -expression of face entirely mild; there was neither passion -nor murder portrayed in his features, not even a restlessness -in his manner—only a quiet dignity, a calm unconcern.</p> - -<p>He begged of the commanding officer to be shot at once, -deprecating the thought of imprisonment—only let him die -or be free. It was in vain to remind him of his offences: -the laws of the white man were not for him. He then said -that he wished to see his wives. The request was granted: -they were sent for, and after a little while they, trembling -with fear, passed the terrible-looking guard and entered their -husband's cell, with their faces covered with their blankets.</p> - -<p>The next day a council was held at the council-house, -and I could not resist the wish I had to be present. I longed -to see the aborigines of my country presiding as it were in -their own halls of legislature. There was always a charm -and freshness in listening to their unstudied eloquence.</p> - -<p>When I reached the council-house the speaking was nearly -over, but the scene repaid me for the trouble I had taken to -witness it.</p> - -<p>The warriors were seated in rows round the room on the -floor, with the exception of Wabashaw, Many Lightnings, -and a few of the principal men,—these occupied a bench.</p> - -<p>Their dresses were very rich; their fans were of large<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span> -feathers, stained in many colours. "The Owl" was looking -grave, for he had been reproved for interfering with the -soldiers, by attempting to cut the prisoner's straps. One -old man was in mourning, and he looked particularly <i>en -dishabille</i>, his clothing (and there was little of it) was -dirty in the extreme. His face he had painted perfectly -black; his hair he had purposely disarranged, to the -greatest degree. Thus he presented a striking contrast -to the elaborately adorned warriors around him.</p> - -<p>Many Lightnings was dressed with scrupulous care. He -had been presented with an old uniform-coat, which he -wore with the utmost complacency. We noticed the warriors -were almost all young: we asked where were all their -old men. Wabashaw said, they were all carried off by the -small-pox, which had nearly destroyed their band some -years before. Several of them, besides the chief, were -deeply marked from this disease.</p> - -<p>When we left Fort Snelling, Fire-face was still in confinement, -but was soon to go to Dubuque for trial. I -learned some months after, that he had escaped: I thought -then, his long-cherished wish might still be gratified.</p> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>DEATH-SONG<br /> -<span class="small">OF AN INDIAN PRISONER, FOR A LONG TIME CONFINED AT<br /> -FORT SNELLING.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Here, in these hated walls</div> -<div class="i2">A prisoner I;</div> -<div class="i0">Vainly my young wife calls,</div> -<div class="i2">As night-winds sigh.</div> -<div class="i0">Brightly the white stars shine:</div> -<div class="i2">Upwards I gaze,</div> -<div class="i0">Seeking this soul of mine</div> -<div class="i2">From earth to raise.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Strong Wind, my comrade brave,</div> -<div class="i2">Looks sternly by,</div> -<div class="i0">Watching the death-film dim</div> -<div class="i2">His brother's eye.</div> -<div class="i0">Chained are these useless hands;</div> -<div class="i2">Cold is my heart;</div> -<div class="i0">Soon to the spirits' land</div> -<div class="i2">Must I depart.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Pacing my prison dark,</div> -<div class="i2">Arms do I see,—</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span> -<div class="i0">While measured the sentry's step,—</div> -<div class="i2">Glance gleamingly.</div> -<div class="i0">Once, like the wild deer,</div> -<div class="i2">Or eagle, as free,—</div> -<div class="i0">Now, closely guarded here,</div> -<div class="i2">Prisoners we!</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">When has the red man felt</div> -<div class="i2">Woman's weak fears?</div> -<div class="i0">But from these wearied eyes</div> -<div class="i2">Fall warriors' tears.</div> -<div class="i0">Father of Waters, I</div> -<div class="i2">Ne'er shall see more,—</div> -<div class="i0">List to its waves pass by,</div> -<div class="i2">Beating the shore.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Sleeps my brave comrade now?—</div> -<div class="i2">Dreams he of home?</div> -<div class="i0">See, o'er his haughty brow</div> -<div class="i2">Dark shadows come.</div> -<div class="i0">Like me, he fain would be</div> -<div class="i2">Where, from the bow,</div> -<div class="i0">Piercing the wild deer's side,</div> -<div class="i2">Swift arrows go.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">When from the waters bright</div> -<div class="i2">Fades the red sun,</div> -<div class="i0">Following the evening light,</div> -<div class="i2">Darkness comes on.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span> -<div class="i0">So has my spirit drooped,</div> -<div class="i2">Since from my home</div> -<div class="i0">Traced I my weary steps,</div> -<div class="i2">Ne'er to return.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Hark! in the evening air</div> -<div class="i2">Low voices come,—</div> -<div class="i0">Bring they to this sad heart</div> -<div class="i2">Breathings of home.</div> -<div class="i0">Now do the whispers rise,</div> -<div class="i2">Mighty the sound,</div> -<div class="i0">Like the thunder-bird,<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">16</a> from the skies</div> -<div class="i2">Hurled to the ground.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Come to our hunting-lands!</div> -<div class="i2">Proudly we roam</div> -<div class="i0">Here, where the white man</div> -<div class="i2">Never may come.</div> -<div class="i0">From our forests on earth</div> -<div class="i2">Oft driven back,</div> -<div class="i0">We are free now, and follow</div> -<div class="i2">The buffalo's track.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Here is the bright glance,</div> -<div class="i2">From maiden's dark eye;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> -<div class="i0">While the song of the feast and dance</div> -<div class="i2">Rings through the sky.</div> -<div class="i0">Here do we wait thy step,</div> -<div class="i2">While soon, for thee,</div> -<div class="i0">Bursted the prison bars,</div> -<div class="i2">The warrior free!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<div class="footnote"> -<p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16">16</a> This is an allusion to the battles of the gods of the Dacotas. The -Thunder (believed to be a bird) is sometimes conquered and cast to the -earth by the god of the woods or the god of the waters.</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>THE FALSE ALARM.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said We-har-ka, who had outlived children and -grandchildren, whose face and neck were covered with -wrinkles, but who still could walk with the youngest and -strongest, "the old woman must pick up what she can get -to eat. I hate the white people. Have I forgotten the -death of my son? Do I not see him now as he fell dead -by the gate of the Fort? What if the Dacotas had killed -some Chippeways! The Dacotas have a right to kill their -enemies. Enah! I hate the Chippeways too. If I were a -warrior, I would ever be tracking them and shooting them -down, and I would laugh when I saw their blood flow."</p> - -<p>"The white people caused the death of your son," said -Harpen.</p> - -<p>"I hate them both," replied We-har-ka. "My son and -two others killed some Chippeways, and they were taken, -prisoners, to the Fort, because the long-knives had said we -must not kill our enemies. Then the Chippeways wanted -the Dacotas who murdered their friends, that their women -might cut them in pieces. So the long-knives told the -Dacotas they might start from the gate of the Fort, and -run for their lives; but they told the Chippeways to be -there too, and they might fire at them and kill them if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span> -they could. The Chippeways fired, and the three Dacotas -fell. The Chippeways shouted and were glad, and the -Dacota women wept. I lay on the ground many days, -with my limbs bleeding. See the scars on my arms! With -this very knife did I make these wounds. I, a widow, and -childless, who has there been to give me food since?</p> - -<p>"When Beloved Hail was killed," continued the old -woman, "the white men would not let our warriors go to -war against the Chippeways. Red-boy, too, was wounded -by the Chippeways, and even he could not go out to fight -them. Our warriors are like children before the white -men."</p> - -<p>"Red-boy was badly wounded," said Harpen.</p> - -<p>"Yes, he was badly wounded: I saw him at the time. If -I were Red-boy, I would only live to revenge myself on -those who had tried to take my life."</p> - -<p>While the woman talked, little Wanska sat by them, -playing with her wooden doll. "Grandmother," said she, -"may I take your canoe and go over to the village? You -can come home with the others. I want to talk to my -mother about Red-boy."</p> - -<p>"Go, go," said We-har-ka, "our brave men may no -longer do brave deeds, and by the time that you are a -woman, there will be no more warriors. It has been five -winters since Beloved Hail was killed and Red-boy wounded, -and no one has avenged them yet."</p> - -<p>The child entered the canoe and paddled towards the -village, thinking all the while of what she had heard. -"Grandmother says, by the time I am a woman, there will -be no more warriors: what will I do then for a husband?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span> -and thus divided between the disgrace of not being married, -and the remembrance of Red-boy's wound, which she -thought had occurred recently, she entered the village in a -state of trepidation, which was yet exceeded by the condition -in which her mother was thrown, on hearing the -announcement that Red-boy was badly wounded by the -Chippeways; that We-har-ka had seen the wound; that all -the old women were very angry with the Chippeways and -white people; then, bursting into tears, the girl of ten -years added: "Mother, the Chippeways and white men are -going to kill all the Dacota warriors, so that, when I am a -woman, I can never have a husband!"</p> - -<p>Up rose the eyes and hands of the mother, and down -went the moccasins she was making to the ground; and -up and down she made her way through the village, giving -the alarm, that Red-boy was killed by the Chippeways!</p> - -<p>Shall I tell of the scene that followed? Oh! for a pen -of magic, to describe how Red-boy's relations cried, and how -everybody's relations cried with them; how the children -ran to their mothers, sheltering themselves under their -<i>okendokendas</i>.<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">17</a> How the dogs yelped and howled, and -sprung on the children's backs, ready to go wherever -prudence might dictate. How the old men started from -sleeping in the lazy summer's sun, and held their tomahawks -as firmly as if time were made to be laughed at, -and the young men throwing away the pebbles with which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span> -they were playing a game of chance, walked swiftly on, -bent on avenging Red-boy.</p> - -<p>How the wind all at once began to rise, and the very fish -leaped out of the water, as if they would like to fight too; -while already, Indian runners were far on their way to tell -the news at Man-in-the-cloud's and Good-road's villages, and -to give the word to those whom they might meet, who would -take up the cry, and rush forward with revenge on their -lips, and murder in their hearts.</p> - -<p>On they went, until they reached the house of the Interpreter, -near Fort Snelling, and then he went with them, to -report to the officers at the Fort of the outrage; that Red-boy -was killed, and that the Dacota warriors wished to go -and avenge the death of their friend.</p> - -<p>This was, of course, considered an infringement of the -treaty of peace then existing between the two tribes; and -the Chippeways had showed their daring by committing a -murder so near the walls of the Fort. It was immediately -determined to send a detachment of soldiers to arrest the -offenders.</p> - -<p>In ten minutes a number of men were on the parade-ground, -ready to march, looking as fiercely at the officers' -quarters as if they were about to enter into mortal combat -with the doors and windows; obeying the word of command -as quickly as it was reiterated, while the ringing noise of -their ramrods sounded through the garrison.</p> - -<p>The Dacotas were perfectly satisfied with the promise -made them, that the Chippeways should be punished in a -manner satisfactory to themselves, for the death of Red-boy.</p> - -<p>We women felt quite solemn in the Fort. The Chippeways<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> -might resist: in fact, there was no saying what -they might, or what they might not do. The command in -garrison was very small: we felt as if we had been -"through seven wars, and this was the worst of all."</p> - -<p>Retreat, the assembling of the command at sundown, -came—the evening gun was fired, and the flag was lowered—and -nothing was heard of the war-party, white or Indian. -Tattoo had come, the soldier's bedtime, and our anxieties -were not at rest. Towards twelve o'clock the men returned -with their officer, without having had even a show of fight. -To their intense mortification and disappointment, Red-boy -had been seen, and talked with, large as life. He had eaten -a saddle of venison that day, without any assistance, and -was, accordingly, in a good state of preservation, having received -no wound since the one of five years' standing, the -scar of which he showed.</p> - -<p>Now, we know that among white people, as well as Indians, -women have the credit of raising all the false reports, -and circulating all the scandal that is going the rounds. -Most unjust charge! and all men, red skins and pale faces, -are defied to prove it. Among the Indians women have no -chance whatever. Is an Indian charged with stealing pork -from the traders? It was not the warrior who did it, but his -wife. Has a party of Indians been admitted into the Fort, -and some loaves of bread and pieces of meat been abstracted? -Somehow or other the women are sure to be in fault. -Has the garrison been alarmed, and a party of soldiers sent -out uselessly? As usual, the women made the trouble.</p> - -<p>Yet, with a sigh from my heart, I must confess that appearances -are against the sex.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span></p> - -<p>There were many threats of vengeance made against We-har-ka -in the present instance, for the trouble which her -longings for vengeance had occasioned; but she was not -afraid: she had taken care of herself for nearly a hundred -years, and would be apt to do so during the short remnant -of her life.</p> - -<p>Indian women will talk of their wrongs as long as they -feel them, and that will be until the heart has ceased to -beat, and the tongue is silent for ever.</p> - -<p>We-har-ka lives on the memory of her sorrows. She holds -them to her heart, as does the mother her child of a day -old. They are dear to her as would be the hope of vengeance.</p> - -<p>I say she lives, but I know not. Seasons have gone since -I bade adieu to her home, and it may be, she is all unconscious -that winter is gone, and that summer's breath is -waving the green boughs of the forest trees as they lift up -their branches to the heavens.</p> - -<p>It must be soon, if not now, that her form, covered with -garments of poverty and misery, and perhaps shielded from -the gaze of passers-by by the tattered blanket of some friend -poor as she, reposes quietly near the river bank.</p> - -<p>Would you not like to have heard her talk of her amusements -as a child, and her happiness when a maiden—of the -scenes of pleasure she remembers, and of terror from which -she has fled—of the pains, the hunger, the watchings she has -endured—of the storms and sunshine of a life passed away?</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> -<p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17">17</a> An Okendokenda is a part of an Indian woman's dress, somewhat -resembling the sack worn by ladies at the present time, more open, displaying -the throat and chest. It is generally made of bright-coloured -calico.</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter newpage"> - <img src="images/i_100a.jpg" alt="Courtship" /> - <div class="caption"> - <span class="xsmall">C. Schuessele del. Drawn by Cap<sup>t.</sup> S. Eastman. Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph.</span><br /> - <span class="vspace"> </span><br /> - INDIAN COURTSHIP - </div> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="style1" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>INDIAN COURTSHIP.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i16">Show me a brighter scene</div> -<div class="i0">On our beautiful earth, or where fairies dream!</div> -</div> - -<div class="tb"> - * <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Tell me where, rocked by the billows high,</div> -<div class="i0">The sea-bird pierces the gorgeous sky,</div> -<div class="i0">Where the moonbeams rest on the ocean wave—</div> -<div class="i0">Where dies the sun o'er the crystal cave.</div> -<div class="i0">Where the bell sounds sweet o'er the desert sand,</div> -<div class="i0">Like matins that ring in a far-off land.</div> -<div class="i0">Where the mountain heaves with its angry voice,</div> -<div class="i0">And the lava speeds with its fiercest course;</div> -<div class="i0">Where the glaciers glance by the sunbeam's ray,</div> -<div class="i0">And the avalanche bursts with resistless sway.</div> -<div class="i0">Yet show me a brighter, a fairer scene</div> -<div class="i0">On our beautiful earth, or where spirits dream,</div> -<div class="i0">Than here! where the leaves of the large trees lave,</div> -<div class="i0">As their boughs are bent to the river's wave;</div> -<div class="i0">Than here! where night and the white stars come,</div> -<div class="i0">Their watch to keep o'er the Indian's home.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i6">Now o'er the waters bright</div> -<div class="i8">Glides his canoe,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> -<div class="i6">Throbbing his warrior heart,</div> -<div class="i8">Maiden! for you.</div> -<div class="i6">Roused from your dreamy sleep,</div> -<div class="i8">Bend low and list;</div> -<div class="i6">Not once has his well-known tread</div> -<div class="i8">Your loving heart missed.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i6">Not far from the wigwam door</div> -<div class="i8">Rests he awhile—</div> -<div class="i6">But from far has he journeyed</div> -<div class="i8">To meet your bright smile.</div> -<div class="i8">He speaks to your heart</div> -<div class="i8">By the flute's slightest sound,</div> -<div class="i6">And its low notes are echoed</div> -<div class="i8">By that heart's wildest bound.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i6">He knows if you love him</div> -<div class="i8">You'll surely come forth,</div> -<div class="i6">And modestly plight him</div> -<div class="i8">A maiden's pure troth.</div> -<div class="i6">Then come! he will talk</div> -<div class="i8">Of his sweet forest home,</div> -<div class="i6">Which you will make brighter;</div> -<div class="i8">Come! maiden, come!</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i6">You move not. Ah! woman,</div> -<div class="i8">He will not despair:</div> -<div class="i6">He has medicine tied</div> -<div class="i8">In the braids of his hair.</div> -<div class="i6">Love-medicine, bound</div> -<div class="i8">In the white deer's soft breast,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> -<div class="i6">'Twill charm you at last</div> -<div class="i8">On his bosom to rest.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i6">Should he wait for your coming</div> -<div class="i8">This fair night in vain,</div> -<div class="i6">No faint heart has he—</div> -<div class="i8">He will charm you again.</div> -<div class="i6">A spell he will cast</div> -<div class="i8">On your slight graceful form;</div> -<div class="i6">Then, wrapped in your blanket-robe,</div> -<div class="i8">Maiden, you'll come.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i6">To your parents he'll presents give:</div> -<div class="i8">Bright things and new—</div> -<div class="i6">Ah! young wives are bought and sold</div> -<div class="i8">Among Indians too.</div> -<div class="i6">Then, from the mother's side</div> -<div class="i8">You will go forth,</div> -<div class="i6">The star of a warrior's home,</div> -<div class="i8">The light of his hearth.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i6">Come! ere the morning star</div> -<div class="i8">Lures him away;</div> -<div class="i6">He must meet with the wise men</div> -<div class="i8">When breaks the blue day.</div> -<div class="i6">Your soft voice must greet him</div> -<div class="i8">Ere homeward he turn,</div> -<div class="i6">Then close to his throbbing heart</div> -<div class="i8">Come, maiden, come!</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>THE SACRIFICE.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - -<p>Far away in one of the fair valleys of the West, where -dark forests frown alike in summer, when the richly clad -boughs wave to the passing breeze, and in winter, when -the bare maple and thick evergreens are covered with -snow,—far away, just on the borders of the valley, close -by the huge rocks which rear their heads above the bluffs -that hang over the water,—an Indian village, with its -many-sized lodges rising here and there, reposed, as it were, -without fear from storm, or the sun's heat, or the aggressions -of enemies. Sometimes, indeed, the mighty thunder -rolled angrily towards it, and the streaked lightning called -over and over again, to the many hills around, to rouse up -the tardy storm-spirits; but they loved not to linger here. -Their voices could be heard in angry murmurs, then they -would pass on in the river's course, with many a wild shout, -to seek some spot less lovely on which to spend their wrath.</p> - -<p>A very few miles below the village, an Indian might be -seen, slowly paddling his canoe over the placid waters. -The dark lines of his face were fixed in deep thought. -His countenance was pale, though the hue of his race was -there; his nostrils large, and quivering with the remains of -passion; his eyes bright and lustrous, as if with fever; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span> -around his mouth might be traced an expression which -seemed to indicate that grief as well as passion was struggling -with him. As he slowly touched with his paddle -the passive waters, he looked around him with a bewildered -air.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, he started, as his eye fell upon something that -lay in the bottom of the canoe; he raised it: 'twas the -arrow of his child. How came it there? and why should -the father, forgetting all, as he dropped unconsciously the -paddle into the waters, cover his face with both his hands, -and while the tears forced their way through his fingers, -tremble with remembrances too strong even for him, the -Iron Heart, to bear?</p> - -<p>All was quiet and peace. Not a voice was heard; even -nature's was still. No human eye looked upon the warrior -as he wept. Silence and solitude surrounded him. The -vast prairie that stretched abroad might have recalled to his -mind the unending future, which he was to spend in the -society of the honoured dead. The soft vapoury clouds of -evening that hung over him, might have told him, as they -have told many, that it is not far from the wretched to the -land of spirits. The waters, on which his canoe rested almost -motionless, might have called to his remembrance, -that life was a sea, sometimes troubled and sometimes calm, -over which the mortal must pass to reach immortality.</p> - -<p>But no such tranquillizing thoughts calmed the tempest -which was raging in his bosom; his bare chest heaved -with emotion; but at length he raised his head, and taking -another paddle from the bottom of his canoe in his right -hand, with the other he threw the small arrow that had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span> -occasioned him so many painful thoughts, and watching -till the waters closed over it, he made his way towards the -bend in the river, where lowlands and prairies were no -more to be seen, and an hour's time brought him in sight -of the village, and soon he was clambering over the rocks -towards it.</p> - -<p>When he met his friends, there was a stern coldness in -his manner, and he replied fiercely to the greeting salutations -of his younger wives, and called for his daughter -Wenona, whose mother had long since been dead, to prepare -him some food.</p> - -<p>Wenona obeyed with alacrity her father's commands, at -the same time glancing uneasily towards her two step-mothers, -whose smothered wrath she knew would break -forth at some future time. They sat silent on the ground -in seeming submission to the will that wrested from them -their rights, in favour of the child of a dead rival; but those -accustomed to read the writing on a woman's countenance, -could see they were rebelliously inclined, but were forced -to conceal their vexation under a calm demeanour.</p> - -<p>It was in August, "the moon that corn is gathered." -Wenona had during the long day paid the penalty of her -father's love; she had toiled unceasingly, though the sun -scorched her face and bosom; the watchful eyes of her -father's wives were upon her, and when he was absent, -they hardly allowed her a moment's rest. Her young -companions wondered at the little spirit she showed; but -Wenona was of a peace-making disposition, and preferred -submission to contention. The large bundles of corn she -had gathered during the day were hanging outside the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span> -wigwam to dry. Not even had she allowed herself time to -join the other girls, who were diving at noon in the cool -waters, and raising their heads up to call Wenona, looking -like mermaids as the water flowed from their long, unbraided -hair.</p> - -<p>It was not long before she placed before Iron Heart his -evening meal, venison and boiled corn—while her face was -so good-humoured, and her motions so easy and graceful, -that one would suppose the wrath of the evil spirits themselves -would have been disarmed, much less the anger of -those to whose children she so often sung sweet lullabies. -Iron Heart did not relish his food; but tasting the venison, -then lighting his pipe, he appeared lost to what passed before -him: he often looked in Wenona's face, with a strange -repentant look, as if he had done her an injury, but sought -to conceal it in his own bosom.</p> - -<p>After a while he rose, and joined a group of warriors, -who were seated without the wigwam, Wenona following in -his protecting shadow, out of the reach of complaint or reproof.</p> - -<p>The group that Iron Heart joined was composed of the -principal men of the band, who were listening to the words -of one of their wisest men. No one interrupted him, as he -boasted of the feathers he had won, as he told of the bears -and buffaloes he had destroyed; no one showed impatience -as he dwelt upon the time when he was young, and all admired -his feats of valour and strength. Respect and attention -were on every countenance, as the white hair of the -old man was lifted from his brow by the evening breeze.</p> - -<p>He told them they had long been at peace with the Chippeways;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> -their young men were becoming like women, without -the ennobling and exciting employment of war. That -the edge of the tomahawk was blunted for want of use. -He said the Chippeways had again intruded on their hunting-grounds, -and it was time that the war-cry of the Dacotas -should be heard, to show their enemies their power.</p> - -<p>The old man, who had lived nearly a century, ceased -speaking, and The Buffalo, who leaned against a tree near -the others, turned towards them, as if he, too, would speak.</p> - -<p>"My words are not good, like the words of the aged; -my voice is low, like the sound of the waters in a small -stream, but the wise speak, and the sound of the Father of -many Waters is in your ears. But our brave men say they -are at peace with the Chippeways: they promised they -would bury the hatchet deeper than the roots of our tallest -trees; they said we would live together like friends, and -that the war-cry only should be heard when we joined -together against our enemies."</p> - -<p>The old man prepared to answer him: his limbs shook -with rage and excitement; he raised his finger, and pointed -towards The Buffalo, then, when the crimson blood dyed his -cheeks, he said, "Shame on the coward who fears his enemies: -go gather corn with the women, and the old and -feeble man will die with his tomahawk raised against those -who hate his nation."</p> - -<p>In vain The Buffalo essayed to speak: they would not -hear him; and he left the council amid the sneers of all.</p> - -<p>War was decided upon; and night was fast approaching -when Wenona, with pale and agitated looks, pressed forward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> -among the warriors. "My father," said she, "where -is my brother?"</p> - -<p>Iron Heart started; but recovering himself, he replied, -"I know not. Seek him yourself, if you would find him."</p> - -<p>"I have sought him," she said, "but the old woman, -Flying Cloud, tells me I may seek him no more, for she saw -his body floating down the river, as she came up in her -canoe. She laughed, too, and said I would see him one day -in the land of spirits."</p> - -<p>All looked towards Iron Heart, but he made his way -among them, and returned to the wigwam. In vain Wenona -wept, and besought him to go in search of her brother; -not even would he inquire of Flying Cloud.</p> - -<p>"I will go, then, and look for him myself," said the girl. -"Is he not my brother, my mother's son?"</p> - -<p>"Cease your noise," said her father, sternly. "If the -Great Spirit have called my son, is he not already a brave -warrior in the city of spirits?"</p> - -<p>Wenona was quiet at her father's rebuke, but her heart -was ill at ease. She hoped he would return in the night. -She remembered that Flying Cloud was always bitter and -ill-tempered; and besides, was not her brother at home on -the water? Could he not swim as easily as he could tread -down the grass on the prairie? She reasoned herself into -the hope that Chaské had been tired, and had laid down to -rest; and she fell asleep with the expectation that his -merry voice would arouse her at break of day.</p> - -<p>And how did he sleep in whose heart lay the secret of -the death of his son? in whose ear was sounding the voice -of that son's blood?</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span></p> - -<div class="tb"> - * <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span> -</div> - -<p>In vain might we seek to follow Wenona in her untiring -search for her brother—she knew all his accustomed haunts—at -one time making her way over rock and crag, to find -out the eagle's home; at another, pushing her small canoe -up the stream, where the beavers made their houses; weeping, -yet hoping too.</p> - -<p>Day after day passed thus: and ever as she returned to -the village would Flying Cloud tell her she must go beyond -the clouds to seek him.</p> - -<p>Iron Heart neither assisted in the search for the boy, nor -spoke of his loss. He was calm as usual: yet in the last -four days he seemed to have lived as many years.</p> - -<p>He employed himself sharpening the instruments he was -soon to use against the Chippeways, while hanging near the -medicine-sack, which was attached to a pole outside the -wigwam, was a knife which glittered in the sun, which was -only touched or moved by himself.</p> - -<p>Days and weeks passed by: Wenona ceased to look for her -brother, or hope for his return; yet still she wept. The -heart of the motherless girl clung ever in thought to him -who had been not only her companion, but her charge from -his birth. She had taken him from her mother's bosom -when dying; she had watched his childish sports, and sung -to him the legends of her people. Could she have closed -his eyes, and wept at his feet, her grief would not have been -so hopeless. It often occurred to her that her father was -not unacquainted with the circumstances of his death.</p> - -<div class="tb"> - * <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span> -</div> - -<p>Strange and solemn was the secret of the death of the Indian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span> -boy. Dearly loved by his father, they stood together one -day by the river's side. "Did you not say, my father," said -the boy, "that we would go to the forest for the deer? Let us -go now; my arrows are swift and strong, and to-morrow the -girls will come and help us drag them in. Come, my father, -your looks have been sad for many days, but you will laugh -when you see the red deer fall as we strike them. The old -woman, Flying Cloud," continued the boy, "says she knows -what is going to happen to me. She says I will never go -to war against the Chippeways; that my knife shall never -sever the scalps from the head of my enemy; that my voice -shall not be heard in the council, nor shall my wife ever -stand at the door of her lodge to wait my coming. But I -laughed at her: she is old and poor; she loves not the young -and happy. See her now, my father, as she stands upon -that high rock, waving her arms to me. What have you -done to her that she hates you so? She says she has cast -a spell upon our race."</p> - -<p>"Flying Cloud is not of our clan, my son," replied Iron -Heart; "her son died, and she says my mother caused his -death. She says she cannot die till my mother is childless -like herself. But come, before the night we must kill many -deer."</p> - -<p>"Is your knife sharp?" said the boy; "you know we must -draw the skins off while they are warm. My sister will -work our moccasins and leggins. She says she is never so -happy as when she is sewing for me."</p> - -<p>Shall we follow them—shall we penetrate the deep forests -to see the father raise his knife to pierce from side to side -the strong, healthy frame of his son!</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span></p> - -<p>Not in anger did he take the life that was dearer to him -than his own. Was the burden of his sins lying heavily -against his heart? Who shall tell his agony when he saw -the blood flow! Who shall say how his soul was wrung -with grief as the reproachful face of his much-loved child -was turned towards him in death!</p> - -<p>The wild deer flew past, but he saw them not. The -serpent glided by as it did in Paradise, but its stealthy motion -was unobserved. The sweet song-birds raised their -notes to the sky, but they all fell unheeded on the ear of -the father who had taken the life of his son.</p> - -<p>Raising the form of the boy in his arms, he bore it carefully -to the shore, and casting it where the current hurried -impetuously on, the dead boy was borne along to share the -lot of many who will rest in their ocean grave, till the land -and the sea shall alike give up their dead.</p> - -<p>When I reflect on the tradition of the Sioux, that once -only has human life been offered in sacrifice, and then a -father took the life of his son—when in the quiet night I -mind me of those whose destiny seems now to be in our -power for good or evil, I remember that when the world -was new, Abraham, in holy faith, yet with a breaking heart, -led his much-loved child—the child of hope and promise, to -sacrifice his life in obedience to the command of God. Can -you not see his lip quiver and his cheek turn pale as he lays -him on the altar? Can you not hear the throbbings of his -heart as he binds him to the wood?</p> - -<p>Abraham's son was spared, but I mind me of another -sacrifice, where God spared not his own Son, but yielded -him, the pure and sinless, a sacrifice for the guilt of all.</p> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>A LULLABY.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Lo! by the river-shore Wenona weeping,</div> -<div class="i0">Lashed to its cradle-bed her young child sleeping,</div> -<div class="i0">While 'neath the forest trees the dead leaves lying,</div> -<div class="i0">Mournful, and sad, and low, the autumn winds are sighing.</div> -<div class="i0">Lists she to hear his footstep proud advancing?</div> -<div class="i0">Gazes, to see his tomahawk brightly glancing?</div> -<div class="i0">Watching the tossing waves, weary and lonely,</div> -<div class="i0">Faithful her breaking heart, loving him only.</div> -<div class="i0">Raising her drooping form, hearing her infant cry,</div> -<div class="i0">Pressing him to her breast, sings she a lullaby.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">Sleep on, my warrior son!</div> -<div class="i12">Ne'er to his childhood's home,</div> -<div class="i10">Waiting our greeting smile,</div> -<div class="i12">Will thy brave father come.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">Shouting the loud death-cry</div> -<div class="i12">With the grim warrior band,</div> -<div class="i10">Singing the giant's songs,</div> -<div class="i12">Dwells he in spirit land.</div> -<div class="i10">Turning from brave to brave,</div> -<div class="i12">See his keen eye</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> -<div class="i10">As he glances around him,</div> -<div class="i12">And smiles scornfully.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">I knew when he left me,</div> -<div class="i12">(The strawberries grew</div> -<div class="i10">On the prairies green,</div> -<div class="i12">And the wild pigeon flew</div> -<div class="i10">Swift o'er the spirit lakes,)</div> -<div class="i12">Then o'er my heart</div> -<div class="i10">Came a dark shadow</div> -<div class="i12">Ne'er to depart.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">I watched, from the door</div> -<div class="i12">Of my tupee,<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">18</a> the band</div> -<div class="i10">As they turned from their home</div> -<div class="i12">To the Chippeways' land.</div> -<div class="i10">I watched and I wept,</div> -<div class="i12">As thy father, the last</div> -<div class="i10">Of the many tall braves,</div> -<div class="i12">From my tearful gaze passed.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">Wake not, my young son,</div> -<div class="i12">For thy father sleeps sound,</div> -<div class="i10">And his stiffened corse lies</div> -<div class="i12">On his enemy's ground.</div> -<div class="i10">Wake not, my brave child,</div> -<div class="i12">Thou wilt wrestle, too soon,</div> -<div class="i10">With the miseries of life,—</div> -<div class="i12">'Tis the red man's dark doom.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">O'er the fate of the Indian</div> -<div class="i12">The Great Spirit has cast</div> -<div class="i10">The spell of the white man—</div> -<div class="i12">His glory is past.</div> -<div class="i10">Like the day that is dying</div> -<div class="i12">As fades the bright sun,</div> -<div class="i10">Like the warrior expiring</div> -<div class="i12">When the battle is done.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">Soon no more will our warriors</div> -<div class="i12">Meet side by side,</div> -<div class="i10">To talk of their nation,</div> -<div class="i12">Its power and pride.</div> -<div class="i10">'Tis the white man who rules us</div> -<div class="i12">And tramples us down;</div> -<div class="i10">We are slaves, and must crouch</div> -<div class="i12">When our enemies frown.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">Sleep on, my young son,</div> -<div class="i12">I'd fain have thee know</div> -<div class="i10">As the warrior departs</div> -<div class="i12">Did thy brave father go.</div> -<div class="i10">He feared not the white man,</div> -<div class="i12">While the Chippeway knew</div> -<div class="i10">He could boast when he scalped</div> -<div class="i12">The Dacota he slew.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">Sleep on, to our desolate</div> -<div class="i12">Tupee we go;</div> -<div class="i10">Soon the winter winds come,</div> -<div class="i12">And the cold and the snow.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> -<div class="i10">He is gone who would bring</div> -<div class="i12">To us covering warm,</div> -<div class="i10">Would supply us with food,</div> -<div class="i12">And would shield us from harm.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">I have listened full oft,</div> -<div class="i12">As the white woman told</div> -<div class="i10">Of the city of life,</div> -<div class="i12">Where the bright waters rolled;</div> -<div class="i10">Where tears never come,</div> -<div class="i12">Where the night turns to day,—</div> -<div class="i10">I gladly would go there,</div> -<div class="i12">But know not the way.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">Ah! ye who have taken</div> -<div class="i12">From the red man his lands,</div> -<div class="i10">Who have crushed his proud spirit,</div> -<div class="i12">And bound his strong hands;</div> -<div class="i10">If ye see our sad race</div> -<div class="i12">In ignorance bowed down,</div> -<div class="i10">And care not to see it,</div> -<div class="i12">Ye have hearts made of stone.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">Sleep on, my young son,</div> -<div class="i12">For soon will we know</div> -<div class="i10">If to the heaven of the white man</div> -<div class="i12">The Dacota may go.</div> -<div class="i10">We are children of earth,</div> -<div class="i12">We must meekly toil on</div> -<div class="i10">'Till the Great Spirit call us,</div> -<div class="i12">My warrior son!</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<div class="footnote"> -<p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18">18</a> Tupee is the Dacota word for house or wigwam.</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter newpage"> - <img src="images/i_116a.jpg" alt="Chippewa" /> - <div class="caption"> - <span class="xsmall">C. Schuessele del. Drawn by Cap<sup>t.</sup> S. Eastman. Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph<sup>a.</sup></span><br /> - <span class="vspace"> </span><br /> - SOUNDING WIND.<br />The Chippewa Brave. - </div> -</div> - - -<hr class="style1" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>SOUNDING WIND;<br /> -<span class="small">OR, THE CHIPPEWAY BRAVE.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Hast thou mourned! oh mourn no longer:</div> -<div class="i0">Death is strong, but love is stronger.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p>The amnesties that have been made between the Sioux -and Chippeways for many years have been of short duration: -it appears now that the two nations will be friendly only -when the lion and the lamb shall lie down together, should -the two nations exist at that happy period. The sight of -each other's blood is as precious to a Chippeway or Sioux as -would be the secret of perpetual youth to an octogenarian, -who eagerly grasps his tenure for life, loving, and fearing -to lose it to the last. At the time of my story, a longer -peace than usual had existed between the two nations. -They hunted and danced, and even married together. -Many a child, that had never trembled at hearing the war-whoop, -wondered at the old men's stories, that invariably -closed with the triumph of the Dacota tomahawk over the -weaker blade of the enemy: but that child grew to be a -man only to hate a Chippeway, as his father had done in -youth; one offence had brought on another, and the slumbering -spirit of vengeance that had reposed in the hearts of -the red men was roused up, and with a double vengeance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> -foe sought foe. In vain were the women and children hidden -in the holes of the earth at night for safety; they were -hunted out, as the starving wolf scents its prey: after the -desperate fight was over, when the strong were laid low, -then were the aged and the infants dragged from their -hiding-places.</p> - -<p>The red morning sun, parting the sullen clouds, hid again -from the sight of the blood that was covering the ground, -and dyeing the very stream where but yesterday the village -belle, seated by its fair banks, listened to the words that -every maiden loves to hear.</p> - -<p>A sad scene was presented at the village of Gray Eyes: -the old chief lay helpless among those who had obeyed his -slightest word, the glaze of death dimming an eye that for -more than eighty winters had watched the snow, as it -drifted from vale to vale. Life had not yet departed: you -could feel the pulse still flutter, and the heart faintly beat, -but the thoughts of the chief were in spirit-land, and his -soul hasted to burst its prison bars, that it might renew the -combat where the Dacotas would aye be the victors.</p> - -<p>A gleam of life and consciousness passed over his faded -features, as an Indian girl advanced towards him: it was a -child he dearly loved, soon to be left without a protector.</p> - -<p>"My daughter," said the old man feebly, as the maiden -threw herself on the ground beside him, and covered with -her tears his cold hands; then raising herself, as she saw -the wound still bleeding, she tore a piece from her okendokenda, -and endeavoured to staunch it. "It is too late, my -child; the soul of your father longs to join the warriors who -live in the land of spirits. Where are your brothers?"</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span></p> - -<p>"There!" said the weeping girl, pointing to the dead -bodies that lay across each other.</p> - -<p>"And your mother?"</p> - -<p>"There too," she answered; "all are gone, my father, but -you and me. I knew how the rocks lay, and where I could -hide myself, and there I stayed, hearing my mother's cries, -and my brothers' shouts, as they died. I saw, too, the -Chippeways, as they carried away the scalps. When you -are gone what will become of me? Who will care for Wenona?"</p> - -<p>"Not Wenona," said her father, "but 'The Lonely One.' -That will be your name when you will have neither father -nor brother left. But see," continued the old man, "our -enemies' blood! Your brothers fought well: they have -already passed the warriors' road to the City of Spirits."</p> - -<p>His breath came quickly—big drops stood on his forehead—another -struggle—a last sigh—and Wenona was indeed -"the lonely one."</p> - -<p>The attack of the night before had not been unexpected. -The Sioux had placed pickets around their village, and a -guard had been kept; but their enemies were too wily for -them. The violent storm that raged during the battle was -favourable to the Chippeways; they were upon the Sioux -ere the watches had heard the slightest sound, except the -wind, and the peals of thunder that shook the earth. Some -escaped with their families from the lower end of the village, -but almost all who remained to fight for their families -were massacred with them.</p> - -<p>While Wenona awaited the struggle, she was overcome -with fear and excitement; but now she was as one without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> -hope. The blow had been struck. Chippeway and Sioux -had fallen in the death-struggle, locked in the embrace which -bound foe to foe. She had given her heart's devoted love to -one whom she must now consider as her enemy. Sounding -Wind, a noble young Chippeway, handsome in person, and -already favoured among his own people, had promised to -take her to his wigwam when the two nations were at peace, -though there were many then who foreboded the strife that -would rend the ties of friendship between the nations. -Even after hostilities had commenced, Sounding Wind had -sworn to himself the woman he loved should be his wife, -though every brave in the nation might stand between him -and the accomplishment of his vow.</p> - -<p>Wenona, as she rose from her father's body, gazing upon -the scene of terror before her, looked like the flower beside -her, which still reared its head, though its fair companions -were all crushed to the earth by the storm of the night. -Silence and death reigned here—nature was as tranquil as -the hearts of her children. Near by swept the lake of the -thousand isles: undisturbed were its waters; there was no -requiem for the dead, even in the passing breeze.</p> - -<p>"My heart weeps," murmured the girl; "but shall the -bodies of my friends remain until night brings the wolves -and hungry birds? Sounding Wind has forgotten the maiden -who loves him. He told me our village should be safe; that -he would talk like a wise man; that he would lead the Chippeways -far away from us: that, as the little islands sleep -peacefully in the lake through the long summer's day, so -might I rest from fear for myself and for my friends.</p> - -<p>"I will go alone and find our people, that they may come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span> -and help me bury our dead. Why should I fear, when all -who have loved me are gone, and he who once loved me -would take my life as he would pierce the deer on the prairie?"</p> - -<p>Wearily she turned her steps, intending to go to the nearest -village, avoiding the dead bodies at every step: yet her -moccasins were red with blood, which, as she pursued her -way, crimsoned the earth at her feet. The reverence that -every Indian woman feels for all things connected with -death, gave her courage to undertake the task before her. -Every change in the scene brought with it some reminiscence: -grief for the dead were connected with each, but -there were thoughts of the living hard to bear.</p> - -<p><i>Here</i> had she sat with her mother, working with porcupine -quills gay garments for her brothers. <i>Here</i> had she -stood and watched the canoe of her lover; here had he -given her the charm which she still wore about her neck: -it was to secure her from any accident till she had left her -friends, and until the gods that the Chippeways worshipped -were hers.</p> - -<p>She pursued her way; but as the waters became bright -with the warm rays of the sun, and the pleasant breezes -were wafted to the shore, a sense of oppression and fatigue -overcame her.</p> - -<p>In vain she essayed to rouse herself to the task before -her: it was, indeed, in vain, for at last she threw herself -under a large tree, and yielded to the repose which exhausted -nature demanded. She slept on for hours as calmly as if -she could only remember and look forward to joy. Bright -eyes were glancing before her—laughter greeted her ears,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> -she was a child again in her dreams, and passing over the -gay waters with her boy lover by her side.</p> - -<p>Sounding Wind, we have said, was already a man of consequence -in his tribe; but he had refused to accompany the -war-party of the preceding night, nor did he seek to hide -his reasons. They had lived peaceably with the band that -lived near the Lake of the Thousand Isles. While he was -willing to resent the aggressions of the band that by treacherous -acts had broken their faith, he would not assail those -who had given them no cause of offence.</p> - -<p>A better reason was in his heart: the love he bore to Wenona -was strong, even stronger than death; and could he -raise a murderous tomahawk against her family? He was -anxious to know the result of the attack on the Sioux. He -met the Chippeways as, taking the trail by the river, they -were on their way home.</p> - -<p>Shortly after he joined them, they seated themselves by -the great tree whose branches sheltered Wenona. They -were resting and eating. Sounding Wind stood by them: -no one interfered with his gloomy mood—there was that in -him that kept them in control. They were all silent, when -suddenly a sigh of grief and fatigue was uttered near them. -Startled by it, each warrior rose to his feet and grasped his -knife and tomahawk. Sounding Wind sprung over the -bushes that were between them and the spot from whence -the sigh issued.</p> - -<p>At his feet, just rousing from slumber, was the girl who -was dearer to him than home or friends. One gleam of joy -at seeing her again, one shade of terror at her probable fate, -and the young man, placing himself between her and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> -Chippeways who had followed him, showed himself ready -to protect her so long as his arm could wield the tomahawk -that glistened in the sun.</p> - -<p>"Come not towards her," he said to them, for they had -recognised her by her dress, "she is my prisoner. I first -touched her—I claim her before you all. I am your chief. -I have led you against the Sacs and Foxes, and I will lead -you against the Dacotas, who have become our enemies, but -this girl's life shall be spared, for she is to be my wife.</p> - -<p>"I have taken her prisoner: I shall spare her life. Am I -not a Chippeway? and shall I forget my promise to her, to -make her my wife?"</p> - -<p>Wenona had covered her face with her hands, every -moment expecting the blow that would terminate her -sorrows; but no one offered to touch her. They were -many and strong in the love of revenge. Sounding Wind -was but one; but stronger than a host was the love that -made him brave the stern spirits before him.</p> - -<p>She arose at the bidding of her lover. She eat of their -food, and pursued, without fear of harm, her journey to -her new home. There, amid the struggles of the Sioux -and Chippeways, she was ever safe. And happy, too, -save when the remembrance of the fate of her family -came between her and the bright visions that cheer and -gladden even an Indian woman's home, when the love of -her husband and children hallow it.</p> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>AN INDIAN BALLAD.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Take me away," said one they called the "Drooping Eye,"</div> -<div class="i2">"Bear me where stoops the deer to drink at eve."</div> -<div class="i0">She would behold the clouds of heaven float gently by,</div> -<div class="i2">And hear the birds' sweet song ere earth to leave.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Close is the wigwam,—oh! give her light and air;</div> -<div class="i2">Say, can her spirit wing itself for flight,</div> -<div class="i0">Losing the perfume borne from flowers fair,</div> -<div class="i2">As comes on them and her the gloom of night?</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">On them and her,—but they will bloom again,</div> -<div class="i2">When breaks the day on earth, by sleep spellbound,—</div> -<div class="i0">Refreshed by morning winds, or summer's rain,</div> -<div class="i2">Gilding with colours bright the dewy ground.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Oh! bear her gently; lay her feeble form</div> -<div class="i2">Close by the lake, where beam the waters bright:</div> -<div class="i0">Oft has she watched from here the coming storm,</div> -<div class="i2">And oft, as now, the glow of evening's light.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Why weep her friends that fails her parting breath,</div> -<div class="i2">That cold the pressure of her powerless hand!</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> -<div class="i0">List!—Ye may hear from far the voice of death,</div> -<div class="i2">Calling from earth her soul to spirits' land.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Well do they know the fairies of the lake,</div> -<div class="i2">That with its waves have mingled oft her tears,</div> -<div class="i0">Here would she nature's solemn silence break</div> -<div class="i2">With the death-song of woman's hopes and fears.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i16">I go,—I go,</div> -<div class="i10">Where is heard no more</div> -<div class="i8">The cry of sorrow or pain;</div> -<div class="i10">I will wait for you there,</div> -<div class="i10">Where skies are fair,</div> -<div class="i8">But I come not to earth again.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i12">Mother, you weep!</div> -<div class="i8">Yet my body will sleep</div> -<div class="i8">Right near you, by night and by day:</div> -<div class="i10">And, when comes the white snow,</div> -<div class="i10">You will still weep, I know,</div> -<div class="i8">That the summer and I've passed away.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">When the storm-spirit scowls,</div> -<div class="i10">When the winter-wind howls,</div> -<div class="i8">Oh! crouch not in cowardly fear.</div> -<div class="i10">Not unwatched, then, the form</div> -<div class="i10">That with life once was warm,—</div> -<div class="i8">My spirit will ever be near.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i12">My sisters! full well</div> -<div class="i12">A dark tale I could tell,</div> -<div class="i8">How my lover in death slumbers sound:</div> -<div class="i10">My brother's strong arm,</div> -<div class="i10">Made the life-blood flow warm:</div> -<div class="i8">And he laughed as it covered the ground.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i12">I heard his deep sigh,</div> -<div class="i12">I saw his closed eye,</div> -<div class="i8">I knew that life's struggle was past.</div> -<div class="i10">When his heart ceased to beat,</div> -<div class="i10">Then I wept at his feet,—</div> -<div class="i8">My first love, my only, my last.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i12">Well my proud brother knew</div> -<div class="i12">That my heart was as true</div> -<div class="i8">To my love as the bird to its mate.</div> -<div class="i10">I go to him there,</div> -<div class="i10">Where flowers bloom fair:</div> -<div class="i8">Will his spirit the Drooping Eye wait?</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i12">Comes quickly my breath!</div> -<div class="i12">The dampness of death,</div> -<div class="i8">Oh! wipe from my brow with thy hand.</div> -<div class="i10">Earth's sorrows are o'er,</div> -<div class="i10">I may weep never more,—</div> -<div class="i8">Tears are not in that bright spirits' land.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>OLD JOHN.<br /> -<span class="small">THE MEDICINE-MAN.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - -<p>If ever "life was a fitful fever," it was with Old John, -the Medicine-Man.</p> - -<p>Coming to the Fort at times when you would not suppose -any human being would expose himself to the elements,—always -laughing, always hungry—seating himself before -the fire to sleep, and starting up the moment his eyelids -closed over his restless, twinkling eyes—talking for ever -and singing in the same breath—troublesome and intrusive, -yet always contriving to be of use. And useful he often -was to an artist who was with us; for he would stand, sit, -or lean, assuming and retaining the most painful attitudes, -looking good-humoured all the time, and telling of his -many wonderful adventures and hairbreadth escapes.</p> - -<p>He came to us one day in the middle of winter, for the -picture of the medicine-feast was in progress, and he had -promised to show how the priest was to be represented, -that the white people might know in very truth how were -conducted the sacred ceremonies of the Dacotas.</p> - -<p>While he warms himself, and eats, and smokes, he has -as usual a great deal to say, and this in a half-muttered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> -tone; for he is a little drowsy from the effect of the fire on -his chilled limbs.</p> - -<p>He takes from his head the three-cornered cloth hood -which is worn by the men in severe weather, and throws -his blanket a little from his shoulders, displaying his handsomely -embroidered coat.</p> - -<p>There is the strongest odour of smoke and stale tobacco -from his dress, and he laughs heartily as we throw open -the doors and windows for the benefit of the fresh air.</p> - -<p>How many strange stories he has of the different medicine-feasts, -and in each he figures largely. About some -portions of the dance he is silent; you may question him -closely, but you get no satisfactory answer.</p> - -<p>He tells that the feast commences when there is no sun -in the heavens; at midnight, when often even the moon -and stars are hiding their light. He cannot tell white -people what occurs then, nay, even the uninitiated Indians -would not dare intrude themselves upon the scene; only -the medicine-men and women are allowed to be present. -Neither entreaties nor bribes have any effect: he will not -intrust to your keeping the solemn secret. All we may -know of this part of it is, that the feast is given in honour -of some departed friend, and these ceremonies are taking -place near where lies the body. A conversation is carried -on with the dead, and food is placed near, that the spirit -may eat.</p> - -<p>"Bury my dead out of my sight." This is not the sentiment -of the Dacota mourner. The mother wants her -child to rest on the boughs of the tree, under which she -has sat and lulled it to sleep in her arms. Here, while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> -she works, she can see its form swayed by the branches, -rocked by the summer winds: its innocent spirit, according -to her faith, must still guard the decaying frame. She -feels not the separation so keenly, when she fancies the -soul of her first-born is hovering round her. She steals -away from the noisy revelling in the wigwam to weep. -She can hardly recall the bright eye and healthy glow, -which once belonged to the lost one, but the suffering -countenance and wasting frame are ever before her; and -in the loud call of the night-bird, she often fancies she -hears again the cry with which her young child yielded up -its life.</p> - -<p>Old John is telling of the medicine-feast. He shows us -the medicine-bag which he uses: it is an otter skin, though -sometimes a mink, a swan, or even a snake, is used, and -often has he performed wonderful cures, or executed terrible -vengeance, by the power of this medicine-bag.</p> - -<p>He will not say what is the medicine which the skin -contains; whether it is a root, or the leaf of a tree, a precious -gum, a mineral substance, or the bone of some animal -which has been preserved for centuries. He says that he -breathed into the nostrils of the dead animal, and thus -imparted to it qualities which made it sacred. Thus has -he often restored to life the dying man, and by the same -power has he cast the spell of misfortune, disease, and even -death, upon one he hated. This is why he is so much -feared.</p> - -<p>Feared by all, but most by the women, Old John's eyes -twinkled until you could only see a black line, when he told -how he could frighten the women in the dance, by holding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span> -towards them the skin which contained the medicine of his -clan.</p> - -<p>As if to afford him an opportunity of proving the truth -of his statements, two or three squaws had just brought -venison to the kitchen, and we sent for them to pay them, -and, at the same time, to give them the chance of talking -a little—a privilege of which all women are glad to avail -themselves.</p> - -<p>The picture was half done; the medicine-man was to be -represented jumping towards the women, with his dreaded -medicine-bag; and Old John assured us it was invariably -the case that the person he selected from the crowd fell -down as if in a fit. This, he insisted, was purely the effect -of his medicine. He offered to prove this by exercising his -prerogative as a medicine-man upon the women who had -just entered the room. The women were much fatigued, -and glad of a chance to rest. They little expected to see -any part of a medicine-feast celebrated in a white man's -house.</p> - -<p>The artist seated himself before his easel, and commenced -sketching the figure of the medicine-man. Old -John stoops, and holds the bag with both hands, as if ready -to dart it towards some person. You wonder how he can -retain his painful position so long a time. The veins in his -temple swell, and his hands tremble, yet he does not offer -to move until the sketch is made. Then, when told he is -at liberty to sit down, he gives a merry, mischievous look -towards us, and commences going round the room, singing -with a loud voice, holding the bag as if about to avenge on -some one present a long-remembered injury.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span></p> - -<p>The women were taken completely by surprise. From -the moment Old John commenced his performance in earnest, -they showed every symptom of terror, now covering -their faces with their hands, and crying "Enah! Enah!" -and again, as the medicine-man passed round the room, -looking after him as if he were something supernatural, -instead of being a compound of art and wickedness. He -was now going to embrace the opportunity that had presented -itself to convince us of the ease with which he could -excite the superstitious fears of these women.</p> - -<p>He continued going round the room in measured time, -and it was impossible not to observe the increasing awe -which was stealing upon the women. He kept perfect time -to his own music, stopping the while, as if absorbed in the -thoughts attendant on the celebration of a religious ceremony—when -suddenly he sprang towards the women, holding -the bag close in the face of one of them.</p> - -<p>The woman sank to the ground: a severe and stunning -blow could not have had a more immediate effect on her -system than the terror into which she had been thrown. -She lay on the ground motionless, with her hands pressed -over her eyes. Old John, perfectly satisfied with the result -of his experiment, laid down his medicine-bag, and seated -himself on the carpet.</p> - -<p>We spoke to the woman, and endeavoured to rouse her. -For some minutes she appeared not to hear; but, after -arising, she looked as pale and ill as if she had indeed been -in the presence of an evil spirit; and she was at that very -time, for I doubt if in the Sioux or any other country a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span> -more determined and hopeless reprobate could be found -than Old John.</p> - -<p>I wondered to observe the trepidation into which a -female of so strong and healthy a frame could be thrown. -To what could it be ascribed, but to the influence of an all-powerful -superstition on a mind chained by ignorance to its -natural estate of dark degradation?</p> - -<p>Among the most curious ideas of the Sioux are those -concerning the Aurora Borealis, which is considered a kind -of goddess of war. Old John will tell you all about her; -for not only is he skilled in all that relates to the mysteries -of his religion, but, if you will take his word for it, -he has seen all kinds of visions. He will tell you how the -gods look—for he has seen them at different times—and to -no better person could you apply for information about the -Aurora (as they call her, Waken-kedan, the old woman). -He will tell you that she is one of their chief objects of -worship; that her favour and protection are invoked as a -necessary preparation for going to war.</p> - -<p>Old John declares he has had several visions of the goddess. -When she has appeared to him, she has given him -the most minute directions as to the hiding-places of the -enemy. Sometimes she insures success to the party;—if, -however, she predicts misfortune, it is sure to occur.</p> - -<p>The goddess, he says, wears little hoops on her arms. -When she appears to the war-chief, if they are to be successful, -she throws as many of these hoops on the ground -as they are to take scalps. These hoops resemble the -hoops that the Indians use in stretching the scalps of their -enemies, when they are preparing for the scalp dance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> -But, should the goddess throw broken arrows on the -ground, woe to the war-party! for this tells the chief how -many of his comrades are to be scalped, an arrow for a -scalp.</p> - -<p>Sometimes, when the successful party is on its return, it -is made more triumphant by the appearance of the goddess. -She does not then take the form of a woman, but quietly -enfolds the heavens with her robe of light. This they -interpret as a favourable omen. The heavens, they say, -are rejoicing on their account; the stars shine out brighter -in honour of their victory; while, to use the Indian warrior's -own words, it is as if their goddess said to them, -"Rejoice and dance, my grandchildren, for I have given -you victory." "The old woman," he says, wore a cap, on -the top of which were little balls or knots, of the same kind -with which warriors adorn themselves after having killed -an enemy. She held in her hand an axe, with a fringe -fastened to the handle: this represents an axe that has -killed an enemy, as it is a universal custom among the -Sioux to attach a strip of some kind of animal to the implement -that was used in battle.</p> - -<p>The Aurora appears and disappears at the pleasure of the -goddess, or as she is sometimes called, "the old woman who -sits in the north." It is not to be wondered at that the -minds of this people should be thus impressed with the brilliant -flashing of the Aurora, in their far northern home.</p> - -<p>Her appearance is not always considered a favourable -omen. Sometimes it is a warning of coming danger. The -mind, overwhelmed with ignorance and superstition, is apt -to read darkly the signs of nature; while a prospect of success<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span> -in any contemplated undertaking will change the interpretation.</p> - -<div class="tb"> - * <span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">* </span><span class="in2">*</span> -</div> - -<p>Old John loves to tell of another of his gods, the meteor; -of this god they stand in great awe, calling him Waken-ne-ken-dah, -or man of fire. He strides through the air to -punish recreant Indians, who forget the claims of the Great -Spirit upon them. Around this god is ever a circle of fire, -while small meteors flow from this "great fiery man." In -each hand he holds a war-club of bone, and every blow is -fatal to that Sioux who deserves his condemnation. He is -said to be very wily, attacking the Indians when they are -asleep.</p> - -<p>On this account Sioux are often timid about sleeping out -of doors; they have traditions of Indians having been carried -off by these errant meteors.</p> - -<p>Old John thinks the "great fiery man" does not deserve -a reputation for bravery, as he never attacks a waking foe. -He says there was once a Sioux who, tired and sleepy, laid -down, rolling himself in his blanket, though the weather -was hot, for the musquitoes were biting him, and rendering -it impossible that he should obtain any rest. The first -thing of which he was conscious was the sensation of being -whirled through the air, passing over miles of prairies and -forests with the speed of light.</p> - -<p>All at once they approached a small pond, which was full -of mallard duck. The appearance of the meteor threw the -inhabitants of the lake into the greatest trepidation, and in -consequence a most unearthly quacking took place. The -fiery man not being aware of the cause of this commotion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span> -never having seen a duck, dropped his affrighted burden, -gladly making his way back to the regions of space.</p> - -<p>But it will be impossible to get anything more from Old -John to-day: the savoury fumes of the kitchen have reached -our sitting-room. He has done with the arts and with religion; -he is enough of a philosopher to take the goods "the -gods provide:" and the hearty dinner that he ate showed -that the mystical attributes of a medicine-man did not prohibit -him from the indulgence of his appetite; while the -Sioux women were well repaid for their venison and their -fright by some gaudy calico, for okendokendas, and a few -needles, thread, and some other "notions," of great value -among them.</p> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>A REMONSTRANCE.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY ELIZA L. SPROAT.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">While the warm, sweet earth rejoices,</div> -<div class="i2">And the forests, old and dim,</div> -<div class="i0">Populous with little voices,</div> -<div class="i2">Raise their trilling hymn,—</div> -<div class="i0">Chime <i>our</i> notes in joyous pleading</div> -<div class="i2">With the million-tonéd day;</div> -<div class="i0">We are young, and Time is speeding—</div> -<div class="i10">Sweet Time, stay!</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">We would hold the hasty hours,</div> -<div class="i2">Ope them to the glowing core,</div> -<div class="i0">Leaf by leaf, like folded flowers,</div> -<div class="i2">Till they glow no more.</div> -<div class="i0">We are mated with the Present,</div> -<div class="i2">Bosom friends with dear To-day:</div> -<div class="i0">Loving best the latest minute,</div> -<div class="i10">Sweet Time, stay!</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Sovereign Youth! all dainty spirits</div> -<div class="i2">Wait on us from earth and air;</div> -<div class="i0">From the common life distilling</div> -<div class="i2">But its essence rare.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> -<div class="i0">Golden sounds, to Age so leaden,</div> -<div class="i2">Eden sights, to Age so drear:</div> -<div class="i0">Sweet illusions, subtle feelings,</div> -<div class="i2">Age would smile to hear.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Happy Youth! when fearless bosoms</div> -<div class="i2">With their wealth of follies rare,</div> -<div class="i0">Loose their thoughts, like summer blossoms,</div> -<div class="i2">To the generous air,</div> -<div class="i0">When we sit and mock at sorrow,</div> -<div class="i2">Looking in each other's eyes;</div> -<div class="i0">Greeting every new to-morrow</div> -<div class="i2">With a new surprise.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Father Time, if thou wert longing</div> -<div class="i2">For a luxury of rest,</div> -<div class="i0">I know where the moss is greenest,</div> -<div class="i2">Over toward the west:</div> -<div class="i0">I would hide thee where the shadows</div> -<div class="i2">Cheat the curious eye of day;</div> -<div class="i0">I would bury thee in blossoms—</div> -<div class="i10">Sweet Time, stay!</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Where the bees are ever prosing,</div> -<div class="i2">Lulling all the air profound;</div> -<div class="i0">Where the wanton poppies, dozing,</div> -<div class="i2">Hang their heads around;</div> -<div class="i0">Where the rill is tripping ever,</div> -<div class="i2">Trilling ever on its way,</div> -<div class="i0">Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,</div> -<div class="i2">All the happy day.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">I would keep thee softly dreaming,</div> -<div class="i2">Dreaming of eternity,</div> -<div class="i0">Till the birds forget their sleeping</div> -<div class="i2">In the general glee;</div> -<div class="i0">Till the stars would lean from heaven</div> -<div class="i2">In the very face of day,</div> -<div class="i0">Looking vainly for the even—</div> -<div class="i10">Sweet Time, stay!</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Hope is with us, chaunting ever</div> -<div class="i2">Of some fair untried to be;</div> -<div class="i0">Lurking Love hath prisoned never</div> -<div class="i2">Hearts so glad and free:</div> -<div class="i0">Yet, unseen, a fairy splendour</div> -<div class="i2">O'er the prosing world he flings;</div> -<div class="i0">Everywhere we hear the rushing</div> -<div class="i2">Of his rising wings.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">As the tender crescent holdeth</div> -<div class="i2">All the moon within its rim,</div> -<div class="i0">So the silver present foldeth</div> -<div class="i2">All the future dim:</div> -<div class="i0">Oh! the <i>prophet</i> moon is sweetest,</div> -<div class="i2">And the life is best to-day;</div> -<div class="i0">Life is best when Time is fleetest—</div> -<div class="i10">Sweet Time, stay!</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>A FINE ART DISREGARDED.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY ELIZABETH WETHERELL,<br /> -AUTHOR OF "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD."</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"A man that looks on glass</div> -<div class="i2">On it may stay his eye;</div> -<div class="i0">Or, if he pleaseth, through it pass:</div> -<div class="i2">And then the heaven espy."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p>I took a walk with my father last evening. Now the -pleasure of this walk was so great that I will even jot -down some notes of its history.</p> - -<p>It was just the pretty time of a summer's day,—the -sun's "parting smile," when he has a mind to leave a -pleasant impression behind him: the hot hours were past; -the remnant of a sweet north wind, which had been blowing -all day, just filled the sails of one or two sloops, and -carried them lazily down the bay; and the sun, having -taken up his old trade of a painter, coloured their white -canvass for the very spots it filled in the picture: the same -witching pencil was upon a magnificent rose-bush at the -foot of the lawn, tinting its flowers for fairy-land; and had -laid little stripes of fairy light across the lately-mown grass; -and, through a slight haze of the delicious atmosphere, the -hills were mellowed to a painter's wish.</p> - -<p>My father and I strolled down the walk, and took one or -two turns almost in silence, tasting all this too keenly at -first to say much about it. There were beauties near hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span> -too. The rose-trees had shaken out all their luxuriance, -and defied the eye to admire aught else. Yet, but for -them, there was enough to be admired. The pure Campanulas -looked modestly confident of attractions; little -Gilias filled their place in the world passing well; the -sweet double pinks gave us a most good-humoured face as -we went by; the tall white lily-buds showed beautiful -indications; and some rare geraniums, and my splendid -English heart's-ease quietly disdained or declined competition. -And in that evening-light, even the flowers of humbler -name and lower pretension, looked as if they cared not -for it. Sprawling bachelor's-buttons, and stiff sweet-williams, -and pert chrysanthemums, all were pretty under the -sun's blessing; I think none were overlooked.</p> - -<p>"How much pleasure we take in at the eye!" said my -father.</p> - -<p>"Where the eye has been opened," said I.</p> - -<p>"Ay. How many people go through the world with -their eyes tight shut;—not certainly to every matter of -practical utility, but shut to all beautiful ends."</p> - -<p>"Oh, those practical eyes!—the eyes that have no vision -but for the <i>useful</i>,—what wearisome things they are!"</p> - -<p>"It is but a moderate portion of the useful that they -see," said my father;—"it was not an empty gratuity that -things were made 'pleasant to the eyes.'"</p> - -<p>"But how the eye needs to be educated," said I.</p> - -<p>"Rather the mind, Cary," said my father. "Let the -mind be educated to bring its faculty and taste into full -play, and it will train its own spies fast enough."</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span></p> - -<p>"It was that I meant, papa,—that cultivation of taste;—I -was thinking, before you spoke what a blessing it is."</p> - -<p>"Why, yes," said my father; "with that piece to bring -down game, one is in less danger of mental starvation. But -hush; here comes somebody that won't understand you."</p> - -<p>And as he spoke, I saw the trim little figure of Mrs. -Roberts, one of our neighbours, come in sight round a turn -in the shrubbery.</p> - -<p>"What a lovely evening, Mrs. Roberts," said I, as we met.</p> - -<p>"Delicious!—such charming weather for the grass and -the dairy, and everything. It was so fine, I told Mr. -Roberts I would just run down and see your mamma for a -minute; I wanted to ask her a question. I shall find her -at home, shan't I?"</p> - -<p>I satisfied Mrs. Roberts on that point, and my father and -I turned to walk back to the house with her, thinking that -our pleasure was over.</p> - -<p>"The roses are in great beauty now," I remarked.</p> - -<p>"Beautiful!—and what an immense quantity of them -you have. I don't know what ails our roses, but we can't -make them do, somehow. They seem to get a kind of -blight when they're about half open, and what are not -blighted are full of bugs. What do you do with the bugs? -I don't see that you have any."</p> - -<p>I suggested the effectiveness of daily hand-picking.</p> - -<p>"Oh, but bless me! it's so much trouble. Mr. Roberts -would never let the time be taken for it. How stout your -grass is! It's a great deal stouter than ours. There's half -as much again of it, I'm sure. And you're cutting it! We -haven't begun to cut yet; Mr. Roberts thought he'd let it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> -stand as long as he could, to give it a chance; but I'm sure -it's time. What do you do with all your roses?—make -rose-water?"</p> - -<p>I said no.</p> - -<p>"I never saw such a quantity! I'll tell you what—if -you'll send me a basket or two of 'em, <i>I'll</i> make some rose-water, -and you shall have half of it. Oh, what beautiful -heart's-ease! My dear Caroline, you must just give me one -of those for my girls, for a pattern; you know they are -making artificial flowers, and they want some of these for -their bonnets. Really, they are quite equal to the French -ones, <i>I</i> think, and—thank you!—that is superb. Now, my -dear Caroline, one more—that one with so much yellow in -it;—want a little variety, you know. They will be delighted. -You know it is just the fashion."</p> - -<p>"I did not, indeed, Mrs. Roberts."</p> - -<p>"Didn't you? They wear little open bonnets of some -light straw—rice is the prettiest, or some kind of open-work—and -here, at the side, just here, a bunch of heart's-ease, -right against the side of the head;—it is very elegant."</p> - -<p>"Caroline has bad taste," said my father gravely; "she -never wears heart's-ease in a bonnet."</p> - -<p>"O no, of course, not these,—she is too careful of them—but -you know false heart's-ease, I mean. No, go on with -your walk—you shall not come in—I am not going to stay -a minute."</p> - -<p>And my father and I quietly turned about and went -down the walk again.</p> - -<p>"False heart's-ease!" said my father.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span></p> - -<p>"What a different thing all this scene is to those eyes, -and to ours, papa."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said my father. "Poor woman!—she carries a -portable kitchen and store-closet in her head, I believe, and -everything she sees goes into the one or the other."</p> - -<p>"Poor Mrs. Roberts!" said I, laughing. "Now that is -the want of cultivation, papa."</p> - -<p>"Not entirely, perhaps. There must be soil first to -cultivate, Cary."</p> - -<p>"Well, her want is the same. And how much is lost for -that want!"</p> - -<p>"Lost?—what is lost?" said another voice behind us; -and turning, we welcomed another and a very different -neighbour, in our old friend Mr. Ricardo.</p> - -<p>"What is lost?"</p> - -<p>"Happiness," said I.</p> - -<p>"For the want of what?"</p> - -<p>"For the want of a cultivated taste."</p> - -<p>"Pshaw!" said Mr. Ricardo, letting go my hand. "<i>That</i> -has nothing to do with happiness."</p> - -<p>"Do you think so, sir?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly. What can a cultivated taste do for you, but -create imaginary wants, that you would do just as well -without?"</p> - -<p>"If you have not them, you have not the exquisite -pleasure of gratifying them."</p> - -<p>"Well, and what if you haven't? How are you the worse -off? The want that is not known is not felt."</p> - -<p>"But the range of pleasure is a very different thing without -them," said I.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span></p> - -<p>"And character is a very different thing," said my father.</p> - -<p>"Character?" said Mr. Ricardo.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said my father.</p> - -<p>"I should like to hear you make that out."</p> - -<p>"And so should I," said I. "I was arguing only for -enjoyment—I did not venture so far as that."</p> - -<p>"Well, enjoyment," said Mr. Ricardo. "Do you think -you have more enjoyment here now, than one of the plain -sons of the soil, who would see nothing in roses but roses, -and who would call 'Viola tricolor' a 'Johnny-jump-up?'"</p> - -<p>"In the first place, learning is not taste; and, in the -second place, you do not mean what you say, Mr. Ricardo. -You know what Dr. Johnson says of the quart pot and the -pint pot—both may be equally full, but the one holds twice -as much as the other."</p> - -<p>"Ah, Dr. Johnson!" said Mr. Ricardo, with an odd little -flourishing wave of his hand; "you delude yourself! The -quart pot is twice as likely to be spilled. If you have some -pleasures that other people haven't, you have pains of your -own, too, that they are exempt from. Now I suppose a -little mal-adjustment of proportions—a little deviating from -the exquisite line of correctness in men or things—would -overturn your whole cup of enjoyment, while his or mine -would stand as firm as ever."</p> - -<p>"But perhaps a sip of mine would be worth his entire -cupful."</p> - -<p>"Now," said Mr. Ricardo, not minding me, "I fell in -with a family once—it was at the West, when I was travelling -there. They were good, plain, sensible, excellent -people, happy in each other, and contented with the rest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> -of the world. They had everything within themselves, and -lived in the greatest comfort, and harmony, and plenty. I -was with them several days, and it occurred to me that -people could not be happier than they were."</p> - -<p>"But for your bringing them up as instances, I suppose -their having 'everything within themselves' did not -include the pleasures of a cultivated intelligence?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I don't suppose they would have quoted Dr. -Johnson to me. But now of what use to them would be -all that extra cultivation?"</p> - -<p>"Of what use to you," said my father, "is that window -you had cut in your library this spring, that looks to the -west?"</p> - -<p>"Of very little use," said Mr. Ricardo, "for my wife sits -in it all the time."</p> - -<p>"Ah, Mr. Ricardo!" said I, laughing.</p> - -<p>"Well, now," said he, but his face gave way a little, -"how are you any better off than those people?"</p> - -<p>"I don't wish to make myself an example, sir; but put -them down here this evening, and what would they see in -all this that we have been enjoying?"</p> - -<p>"They would see what you see, I suppose. They had -reasonably good eyes—they were not microscopes or telescopes."</p> - -<p>"Precisely," said my father. "They would see what -mere ordinary vision could take in, <i>without</i> the quick discernment -of finely trained sensibilities, and without the far-reaching -and wide views of a mind rich in knowledge and -associations. Where cultivated senses find a rare mingling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> -of flavours, theirs would at best only perceive the difference -of stronger or fainter—of more or less sweet."</p> - -<p>"Senses literal or figurative, do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Both," said my father. "You rarely find the one cultivated -without the other."</p> - -<p>"You may find the other without the one," said Mr. -Ricardo. "I knew a man once who had no aptness for -anything but judging of wines, and he was curious at that. -He did it mostly by the sense of smell, too. All the mind -the man had seemed to reside in his nose."</p> - -<p>"That is an instance of morbid development," said my -father, smiling, "not in point."</p> - -<p>"You would have thought it was in point, if you had -seen him," said Mr. Ricardo, glancing at my father.</p> - -<p>"But the pleasures of a cultivated taste, Mr. Ricardo," -said I, "may be constantly enjoyed; and they are some of -the purest, and most satisfying, and most unmixed that we -have."</p> - -<p>"And, I maintain, of the most useful," said my father.</p> - -<p>"To the character," said Mr. Ricardo. "But I do not -believe that, where they most prevail, are to be found in -general the strongest minds or the most hopeful class of -our population."</p> - -<p>"My good sir," said my father, "do not confound things -that have nothing to do with each other. That may be -true, and it may be equally true of sundry other matters, -such as correct pronunciation and the usages of polite society, -Mocha coffee and fine broadcloth,—none of which, I hope, -have any deleterious effect upon mind."</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span></p> - -<p>"Well, go on," said Mr. Ricardo, without looking at him, -"let us hear how you make out your case."</p> - -<p>"Learning to draw nice distinctions, to feel shades of difference, -becoming alive to the perception and enjoyment of -most fine and delicate influences, the mind acquires a <i>habit -of being</i> which will discover itself in other matters than -those of pure taste. This faculty of nice discrimination and -quick feeling cannot be in high exercise in one department -alone, without being applied more or less generally to other -subjects. It will develope itself in the ordinary intercourse -and relations of social and domestic life, and the <i>tendency</i> -will be to the producing or perfecting of that nice sense of proprieties, -that quick feeling of what is due to or from others, -which we call tact."</p> - -<p>"But tact cannot be given, papa," said I.</p> - -<p>"And how is it useful if it could?" said Mr. Ricardo.</p> - -<p>"Useful?" said my father, meditating—"why, sir, the -want of it is a death-blow to I know not what proportion of -the efforts that are made after usefulness. How many an -appeal from the pulpit has been ruined, simply by bringing -in a coarse or unhappy figure, which the speaker's want of -cultivation did not allow him to appreciate! How many a -word, intended for counsel or kindness, has fallen to the -ground, because the kindly person did not know how to -work out his intentions!"</p> - -<p>"But, you cannot give tact, father," I repeated.</p> - -<p>"No, Cary—that is true—tact cannot be <i>given</i>; it is the -growth only of minds endowed with peculiarly fine sensibilities; -but the mind trained to nice judging in one set of -matters can exercise the same acumen upon others, so soon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> -as its attention is fairly called out to them. Taste is a thing -of particular growth and cultivation in each separate branch; -but certainly the mind that has attained high excellence in -one is finely prepared to take lessons in another."</p> - -<p>"There may be something in that," said Mr. Ricardo, as -if he thought there wasn't much.</p> - -<p>"But, beyond that," said my father, "the cultivation of -taste opens truly a new world of enjoyment utterly closed -to every one destitute of it. Nature's stores of beauty and -wonder, the fine analogies of moral truth that lie hidden -under them, the new setting forth of nature which is Art's -beautiful work,—how numberless, how measureless the -sources of pleasure to the mind once quickened to see and -taste them! Once quickened, it will not cease to rejoice in -them, and more and more. And as the mind always assimilates -itself to those objects with which it is very conversant, -and as these sources of pleasure are all pure, it follows, that -not only a refined but a purifying influence also is at work in -all this; and the result should be, if nothing untoward counteract, -that everything gross, everything <i>improper</i>, in the -strict sense of the word, everything unseemly, unlovely, impure, -becomes disgustful, and more and more. And whatever -is the reverse of these meets with a juster appreciation, -a keener relish, a truer love than could be felt for them by -a mind not so cultivated. This refining and purifying effect -will be seen in the whole character. It will make those solid -qualities, which are, indeed, more worth in themselves, show -with yet new lustre and tell with higher effect, and not -the outward attire only, but the very inward graces of the -mind will be worn with a more perfect adjustment."</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span></p> - -<p>"Hum—well," said Mr. Ricardo, about a minute after -my father had done speaking, "you have made a pretty fair -case of it."</p> - -<p>My father smiled, and we all three paced up and down -the walk in silence. I thought we had done with the subject.</p> - -<p>"That's a beautiful sky!" said Mr. Ricardo, coming to a -stand, with his face to the west.</p> - -<p>"Look down yonder," said my father.</p> - -<p>In the southwestern quarter lay a beautiful fleecy mass -of cloud: the under edges touched with exquisite rose-colour, -sailing slowly down the sky—pushed by that same faint -north wind. Just over it—just over it, sat a little star, -shining at us with its unchanging ray.</p> - -<p>"Would your Tennessee friends see enough there to hold -their thoughts for half a minute?" said I, when we had -looked as long; but Mr. Ricardo did not answer me.</p> - -<p>"That painted cloud," said my father, "is like the pleasures -of earth—catching the eye with fair hues; the star, -like the better pleasures, that have their source above the -earth. That light fills, indeed, it may be, a much smaller -space in our eye, or our fancy, than the colours on the cloud; -but mark,—it is pure, bright, and undying, while the other -is a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth -away."</p> - -<p>I looked at the star, and I looked at my father, and my -heart was full. I thought Mr. Ricardo had got enough, and -I think he thought so too, for when we reached the far end -of the walk, he left us, with a very hearty shake of the -hand, indeed.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span></p> - -<p>My father and I walked then, without talking any more, -till glow after glow passed away and night had set in. The -little cloud had lost all its fair colours, and had drifted far -down into the southern sky, a soft rack of gray vapour, and -the star was shining steadily and brightly as ever in the -deepening blue.</p> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter newpage"> - <img src="images/i_150a.jpg" alt="Chapel" /> - <div class="caption"> - <span class="xsmall">C. Schuessele del. Drawn by Cap<sup>t.</sup> S. Eastman. Chromolith of P. S. Duval Phil.</span><br /> - <span class="vspace"> </span><br /> - MISSION CHAPEL OF SAN JOSE, NEAR SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS. - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="style1" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>THE MISSION CHURCH OF SAN JOSÉ.<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">19</a></h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Not far from San Antonio,</div> -<div class="i2">Stands the Church of San José;</div> -<div class="i0">Brightly its walls are gilded</div> -<div class="i2">With the sun's departing ray.</div> -<div class="i0">The long grass twines the arches through,</div> -<div class="i2">And, stirred by evening air,</div> -<div class="i0">Wave gracefully the vine's dark leaves,</div> -<div class="i2">And bends the prickly pear.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">High, from its broken, mouldering top,</div> -<div class="i2">The holy cross looks down,</div> -<div class="i0">While round the open portals stand</div> -<div class="i2">Figures of saints in stone.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span> -<div class="i0">And round its ancient spires,</div> -<div class="i2">In the turrets wide and high,</div> -<div class="i0">While you watch the night-birds flap their wings,</div> -<div class="i2">You hear their piercing cry.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And ever and anon the bats,</div> -<div class="i2">In clusters, seek their homes,</div> -<div class="i0">As night, with shrouding mantle,</div> -<div class="i2">On the Mission Chapel comes.</div> -<div class="i0">Oh! 'twas not thus, when Jesuit priests</div> -<div class="i2">Their chaunt at evening sung,</div> -<div class="i0">As, echoing o'er the river's shores,</div> -<div class="i2">The vesper bells were rung.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Now, while we linger round its walls,</div> -<div class="i2">Its history would we learn?—</div> -<div class="i0">How San José's walls and spires rose up?—</div> -<div class="i2">To its legends we must turn.</div> -<div class="i0">In learning high, and cunning deep,</div> -<div class="i2">With wealth and numbers, come—</div> -<div class="i0">Christians to make the red men all—</div> -<div class="i2">These haughty priests of Rome.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Did they tell them they were brothers?</div> -<div class="i2">That every human heart</div> -<div class="i0">Was a link in love's great chain—</div> -<div class="i2">Of salvation's scheme a part?</div> -<div class="i0">Not they: they bade them hew the stone,</div> -<div class="i2">And bear its heavy weight;</div> -<div class="i0">And, while they used the Indian's strength,</div> -<div class="i2">They gained his fiercest hate.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">But towers, and spires, and steeples rise,</div> -<div class="i2">And the Church of San José</div> -<div class="i0">Arrests the traveller, who kneels,</div> -<div class="i2">Then passes on his way.</div> -<div class="i0">Turning once more, to bend before</div> -<div class="i2">The Virgin and her Son,</div> -<div class="i0">The Cherubim and Seraphim</div> -<div class="i2">From his strained gaze are gone.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">No converts from the red men</div> -<div class="i2">Made these haughty priests of Rome;</div> -<div class="i0">But still on ignorance and vice</div> -<div class="i2">The holy cross looked down,</div> -<div class="i0">Though Jesus, with the crown of thorns,</div> -<div class="i2">The offering made for sin,</div> -<div class="i0">And the vase of holy water,</div> -<div class="i2">Borne by angels, stood within.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Rich tapestries, and gilded signs,</div> -<div class="i2">And images stood forth,</div> -<div class="i0">And the patron saint, San José—</div> -<div class="i2">Were all these nothing worth?</div> -<div class="i0">"The red man's heart is adamant,"</div> -<div class="i2">Thus do the Jesuits say;</div> -<div class="i0">"Unmoved they see these splendours—</div> -<div class="i2">Unchanged they turn away."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Not under stern and unjust rule</div> -<div class="i2">The red man's heart will melt,</div> -<div class="i0">But by such gentle, sorrowing love,</div> -<div class="i2">As Christ for mortals felt.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span> -<div class="i0">Oh! that the star might shine for them,</div> -<div class="i2">That unto us is given,</div> -<div class="i0">To cheer our dreary path on earth,</div> -<div class="i2">And guide our steps to heaven.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Let the ruins of her glory stand,</div> -<div class="i2">A monument to art;</div> -<div class="i0">But the temple of the Living God</div> -<div class="i2">Should be the human heart;</div> -<div class="i0">While mouldering in tower and wall,</div> -<div class="i2">And bending in decay,</div> -<div class="i0">Do we gaze upon this chapel fair,</div> -<div class="i2">The Church of San José.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<div class="footnote"> -<p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19">19</a> San José is the most interesting of the ruins of the mission chapels in -Texas. There are five of them,—the chapel of the Alamo, at San Antonio; -Chapel of Conception, two miles from San Antonio; Chapel of San José, -five miles from San Antonio; Chapel of San Juan, ten miles from the same -place; and one other near Goliad. These chapels were built by the Jesuits, -at the time when they contemplated Christianizing the Indians of Mexico. -The Indians were obliged to assist in the labour. The chapels are all in a -state of ruin. On the top of San José, near the large cross at its foot, a -peach tree grows. Occasionally there is some sort of service performed in -them. There is a great deal of carving about them, and remains of former -splendour; but they have become refuges for the bats and owls, which are -for ever flying in and about them.</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>HAWKING.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY EDITH MAY.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">She had drawn rein within the castle court</div> -<div class="i0">Under its arching gateway, and there stood,</div> -<div class="i0">Curbing the hot steed that, with upreared hoofs,</div> -<div class="i0">Bearing upon the gilded bit, pressed forward.</div> -<div class="i0">Her eyes had measured distance, and her lips,</div> -<div class="i0">Parted and eager, seemed to drink the air</div> -<div class="i0">Now fresh with morning, and her light form kept</div> -<div class="i0">Its throne exultingly. A single plume</div> -<div class="i0">Waved from her hunting-cap, and the quick wind</div> -<div class="i0">Close to the floating ringlets of her hair</div> -<div class="i0">Pressed down its snowy fringes. But the folds</div> -<div class="i0">Of her rich dress hung motionless, and its hem</div> -<div class="i0">Swept to the shaven turf. Near by, a page</div> -<div class="i0">Held in a leash of greyhounds, and a hawk</div> -<div class="i0">Sat hooded on the bend of her gloved wrist.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>HILLSIDE COTTAGE.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. JULIA C. R. DORR.</p> - -<p>There was no spot in all Elmwood that we children so -dearly loved to visit as Hillside Cottage. No matter where -our wanderings began—whether we started for the meadow, -in pursuit of the rich strawberry—for the thick woods, -where the wild flowers bloomed so luxuriantly, and the -bright scarlet clusters of the partridge-berry, contrasting -beautifully with its dark green leaves, sprang up at our feet—for -the brook, to gather the shining pebbles, or to watch -the speckled trout, as they darted swiftly through the water—no -matter where our wanderings began, it was a strange -thing if they did not terminate somewhere about the sweet -wild place where Aunt Mary lived.</p> - -<p>Now, prythee, gentle reader, do not picture to your -"mind's eye" a stately mansion with an unpretending name, -when you read of Hillside Cottage. Neither was it a cottage -<i>ornée</i>, with piazzas, and columns, and Venetian blinds. -It was a low-roofed dwelling, and its walls had never been -visited by a single touch of the painter's brush: but the -wild vines had sprung up around it, until their interlacing -tendrils formed a beautiful network nearly all over the -little building; and the moss upon the roof had been gathering -there for many years, growing thicker and greener after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span> -the snows of each succeeding winter had rested upon it. It -stood, as the name given it by the villagers indicated, upon -the hillside, just in the edge of the woods that nearly -covered the rounded summit of the hill; a little rivulet -danced along, almost beneath the very windows, and at a -short distance below fell over a ledge of rocks, forming a small -but beautiful cascade, then, tired of its gambols, it flowed -onwards as demurely as if it had never leaped gaily in the -sunlight, or frolicked, like a child at play, with every flower -that bent to kiss its bright waters. We thought there was -no place where the birds sang half so sweetly, or where the -air was so laden with fragrance; and sure am I there was -no place where we were more cordially welcomed than in -Aunt Mary's cottage.</p> - -<p>I well remember Aunt Mary's first arrival in Elmwood. -For two or three weeks it had been rumoured that the cottage -on the hill was to receive a new tenant. Some slight repairs -were going on, and some one had seen a wagon, loaded with -furniture, unladen at the door. This was enough to excite -village curiosity; and when we assembled in the church, -the next Sabbath, I fear that more than one eye wandered -from the pulpit to the door, to catch the first glimpse of our -new neighbour. Just as our old pastor was commencing -the morning service, a lady, entirely unattended, came -slowly up the aisle, and entered the pew designated by the -sexton. Her tall and graceful figure was robed in deepest -black, and it was evident that grief, rather than years, had -dimmed the brightness of her eye, and driven the rich -colouring of youth and health from her cheek. But there -was something in the quiet, subdued glance of those large,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span> -thoughtful eyes, in the intellect that seemed throned upon -her lofty forehead, and in the sweet and tender expression -that played around her small and delicately formed mouth, -that more than compensated for the absence of youthful -bloom and freshness. I did not think of these things then; -but, child that I was, after one glance I shrank back in my -seat, awe-struck and abashed by the dignity of her bearing. -Yet when she rose from her knees, and I caught another -glimpse of her pale face, my little heart seemed drawn -towards her by some powerful spell; and after service was -concluded, as we passed down the aisle side by side, I -timidly placed in her hand a wild rose I had gathered on -my way to church. She took it with a smile, and in a -sweet low voice thanked me for the simple gift. Our homes -lay in the same direction, and ere we reached my father's -gate I imagined myself well acquainted with Miss Atherton.</p> - -<p>From that hour my visits to Hillside Cottage were neither -"few" nor "far between." My parents laughed at my enthusiastic -praises of my new friend; but they soon became -assured that they were well grounded: and it was not long -before the answer, "Oh, she has only gone to see Aunt -Mary," was the most satisfactory one that could be given -to the oft-repeated query, "Where in the world <i>has</i> Jessie -gone now?"</p> - -<p>She lived almost the life of a recluse; seldom mingling -with the villagers, save in the services of the sanctuary, or -when, like a ministering angel, she hovered around the -couch of the dying. Formed to be an ornament to any -circle, and to attract admiration and attention wherever she -moved, she yet shrank from public notice, and was rarely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span> -seen, except by those who sought her society in her own -little cottage. To those few it was evident that her love of -seclusion was rather the effect of some deep grief, that had -in early life cast its shadow over her pathway, than the -constitutional tendency of her mind. Hers was a character -singularly lovely and symmetrical. With a mind strong, -clear, and discriminating, she yet possessed all those finer -shades of fancy and feeling, all that confiding tenderness, -all those womanly sympathies, and all that delicacy and -refinement of thought and manner which, in the opinion of -many, can rarely be found <i>in woman</i>, combined with a high -degree of talent. Love of the beautiful and sublime was -with her almost a passion, and conversing with her, when -animated by her favourite theme, was like reading a page -of rare poetry, or gazing upon a series of paintings, the work -of a well-skilled hand.</p> - -<p>Years passed on. The little village of Elmwood had -increased in size, if not in comeliness: the old church had -given place to one of statelier mien and prouder vestments, -and the winding lane, with its primroses and violets, had -become a busy street, with tall rows of brick bordering it on -either side. But still the cottage on the hill remained quiet -and peaceful as ever, undisturbed by the changes that were -at work beneath it. A silver thread might now and then -be traced amid the abundant raven tresses that were parted -on Aunt Mary's forehead; and my childish curls had grown -darker, and were arranged with more precision than of yore. -Yet still the friendship of earlier years remained unbroken, -and a week seldom passed without finding me at Hillside -Cottage. My visits had of late been more frequent than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> -ever, for the time was drawing near when our intimacy -must be interrupted. I was soon to leave my father's roof, -for a new home in a far-off clime, and to exchange the love -and tenderness that had ever been lavished upon me there -for a nearer and more engrossing attachment.</p> - -<p>It was the evening before my bridal. I had stolen away -unperceived, for I could not resist the temptation of one -more quiet chat with Aunt Mary.</p> - -<p>"I scarcely expected you to-night, my dear Jessie," said -she, as I entered, "but you are none the less welcome. Do -you know I am very selfish to-night? When I ought to be -rejoicing in your happiness, my heart is heavy, because I -feel that I can no longer be to you what I have been, chief -friend and confidant. Oh! I shall indeed miss my little -Jessie."</p> - -<p>"You will always be to me just what you have been, -Aunt Mary," I replied, and tears filled my eyes, as I threw -myself upon a low seat at her feet. "You must not think -that because I am a wife, I shall love my old friends any -the less: and you of all others, you who have been to me -as a dear, dear elder sister,—you who have instructed and -counselled me, and have shared all my thoughts and feelings -since I was a little child; oh! do you think any one -can come between our hearts? We may not meet as frequently -as we have done, but you will ever find me just the -same, and I shall tell you all my thoughts, and all my -cares and sorrows, and all my joys too, just as I always -have done."</p> - -<p>"No, no, Jessie, say not so. That may not be. You -may love me just as well, but you will love another more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> -Your heart <i>cannot</i> be open to me as it has been, for it will -belong to another. Its hopes, its fears, its joys, its sorrows, -its cares, its love, will all be so intimately blended with -those of another, that they cannot be separated. No wife, -provided the relations existing between her husband and -herself are what they should be, can be to <i>any</i> other friend -exactly what she was before her marriage."</p> - -<p>"Why, Aunt Mary!—you surely do not mean to say -that a wife should never have any confidential friends?"</p> - -<p>"The history of woman, dear Jessie, is generally simply -a record of the workings of her own heart; in ordinary -cases, she has little else to consider. 'The world of the -affections is her world,' and there finds she her appropriate -sphere of action. What I mean to say is,—not that a wife -should have no friend save her husband,—but that, if the -hearts of the twain are as closely linked together as they -should be, if they always beat in perfect unison, and if -their thoughts and feelings harmonize as they ought to do, -it will be difficult for her to draw aside the veil from her -own heart, and lay it open to the gaze of any other being, -without, in some degree, betraying the confidence reposed -in her by him who should be nearer and dearer than all -the world beside. The heart is like a temple, Jessie. It has -its outer and its inner court, and it has also its holy of holies. -The outer court is full: common acquaintances,—those -that we call friends, merely because they are not enemies,—are -gathered there. The inner court but few may enter,—the -few who we feel love us, and to whom we are united -by the strong bonds of sympathy; but the sanctum sanctorum, -the holy of holies, that must never be profaned by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> -alien footsteps, or by the tread of any, save him to whom -the wife hath said, 'Whither thou goest I will go, thy -people shall be my people, and thy God my God.'"</p> - -<p>The deepening twilight hung over us, wrapping all -things in its sombre mantle, and its solemn stillness fell -with soft, subduing power upon our hearts, as we sat, for -many moments, each lost in reverie, ere I spoke again.</p> - -<p>"Aunt Mary, why were you never married?"</p> - -<p>"Rather an abrupt question that, my love. What if I -say, in the words of the old song, because 'nobody ever -came wooing me?'"</p> - -<p>"Nay, nay, Aunt Mary, I know you have never passed -through life unloved, and I have sometimes fancied not -unloving either. But pardon me, I fear my obtrusive -curiosity has given you pain," I added quickly, as in the -dim light I saw that her pale cheek was growing still paler, -and that deep, though subdued, anguish was stamped in -legible characters upon her brow.</p> - -<p>"I have nought to pardon, my child, for our long familiarity -has given you a right to ask the question; and I -wonder that you have never made the inquiry before, -rather than that you make it now. The history of my -early life is a sad one, but you shall hear it, and know -why I am now such a lone and isolated being.</p> - -<p>"Upon the early part of my life it will be necessary for -me to dwell but slightly. My childhood passed dreamily -away, marked by no event of sufficient importance to leave -a very deep impression upon my mind. An only child, I -was my father's idol, and he loved me none the less tenderly, -because the destroying angel had snatched his young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span> -wife from his bosom, and I was all that was left to him of -her. I was very young when my mother died—too young -to appreciate the magnitude of my loss, or to feel that I -was motherless. Yet I have an indistinct recollection of a -sweet, girlish face, that used to bend over my couch, and of -a melodious voice that was wont to lull me to my baby slumbers. -The remembrance is a very faint one, but I have -never thought of angels in my dreams, or in my waking -hours, when the vision did not wear the semblance of my -mother's face, nor of angel voices without in fancy hearing -again my mother's low, soft tones.</p> - -<p>"As I grew older, the best instructors in the country were -procured for me, and I was taught all the accomplishments -of the day, while, at the same time, I was not allowed to -neglect any of the plainer, but equally important branches -of female education. At last my education was completed, -and 'I came out' under auspices as flattering as those -under which any young girl ever made her debut upon the -stage of life. The harsh fingers of Time have wrought such -changes upon my face and form, that you may find it difficult -to believe that in my youth I was called beautiful. -Yet so it was, and this, together with my father's station in -society and reputation for wealth, drew a crowd of admirers -around me. One of my father's chief sources of delight, -was the exercise of an almost prodigal hospitality, and he -dearly loved to see me, attired with all the elegance that -his ample means could afford, presiding at his table, or -moving among our guests, in his fond eyes 'the star of the -goodly companie.'</p> - -<p>"It was by the bedside of his dying sister, that I first met<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span> -Walter Elmore. Effie had been a schoolmate of mine, and -an intimate friendship had sprung up between us. Sisterless -as I was, I had learned to cherish for her almost a -sister's love. Soon after we left school, her father removed -his residence from a distant part of the country to the city -near which mine resided, and our girlish attachment was -cemented and strengthened, as we entered, hand in hand, -upon the duties and pleasures of early womanhood.</p> - -<p>"Effie's constitution was naturally weak, and she had been -subject from her childhood to a slight cough; but her -friends gave little heed to it, as the buoyancy of her spirits -and her unchanged demeanour seemed to preclude the idea -of any seated complaint. But the destroyer came, and disease -had made fearful havoc before we awoke to a sense of -her danger. I was with her day and night for a few weeks, -and then Effie Elmore, in her youth and loveliness, slept -the 'sleep that knows no waking.'</p> - -<p>"Her brother, of whom I had often heard her speak in -terms of enthusiastic fondness, had been abroad, completing -his studies, and I never met him until we stood, side by -side, gazing upon the calm, still face of the beautiful being -whom we both so tenderly loved.</p> - -<p>"It is needless for me to say that from that hour we met -often. At my father's house he became a frequent and -a welcome guest; and we met too, at no distant intervals, -by Effie's grave, in her favourite walks, and in every nook -that had been made sacred by her presence. We thought -that it was our mutual love for the departed that drew us -together; we thought it was her memory, and the recollection -of the hour when first we met, that made us seek each<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> -other's society, and that rendered the moments we spent -together so dear to us both; but ah me! but few months -had rolled over our heads before we found that it was even -a stronger tie; that it was the mystic chain that binds heart -to heart, the deep love of congenial spirits.</p> - -<p>"And Walter Elmore was indeed one that any maiden -might be proud of loving. His face and figure were cast in -nature's finest mould. But that were nothing—it is of the -nobleness of his character of which I would speak. Proud -and high-spirited even to a fault, he could not stoop to a -mean or unworthy action. Generous and confiding, his -soul was filled with all true and noble impulses, and his -heart was the home of pure and elevated affections. His -intellectual powers were such as to win the admiration and -esteem of all who knew him, and he possessed also the rare -gift of eloquence,—a gift that seldom fails to find its way to -a woman's heart. What wonder was it then that I yielded -mine to him wholly and unreservedly, and soon learned to -listen for his footstep, as I listened for no other? My father -smiled upon his suit, and gave it his unqualified approbation. -Elmore was not wealthy, but his family was one of -the first in the country, and my father was proud of his -brilliant talents and untarnished name. I had wealth -enough for both, and it was decided that upon my twentieth -birthday our nuptials should be celebrated.</p> - -<p>"Alas! how little know we of the future! Ere that day -came, I was penniless—I had almost said a penniless -orphan. My father's capital was all invested in the business -transactions of two of the oldest, and, it was supposed, -the wealthiest houses in New York. Two successive weeks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> -brought news of the failure of both firms, and he found himself, -when far advanced in life, stripped of the fortune he -had acquired by his own hard exertions in earlier years, -and utterly destitute. He sank beneath the blow, and for -weeks I hung over his couch, fearing each night that the -next rising sun would see me an orphan.</p> - -<p>"He rose at length from that bed of suffering, but oh, how -changed! His hair, which had before but lightly felt the -touch of time, was white as snow; his once erect form was -bent and trembling; his eye had lost its lustre, and what -was far more sad than all, his mental vigour had departed, -and he was as imbecile and feeble as a little child. Accustomed -as I had ever been to lean upon his strong arm for -support, to look to him for guidance and direction in all -things, I was now obliged to summon all my fortitude, and -be to him in turn protector and guardian.</p> - -<p>"The whole of our property was gone, our ruin was complete, -and for a time I was overwhelmed by the new and -strange cares that were pressing so heavily upon me. But -I soon found that it was time for me to <i>act</i> rather than -mourn, and I began to look around me for some means by -which to obtain a comfortable livelihood for my poor father. -I might have obtained a situation as governess, where the -labour would be light, and the salary more than sufficient -for my wants; but in that case I must be separated from -my parent, and leave him to the tender mercies of strangers. -The same objection arose in my mind in connexion with -almost every course that presented itself, and I finally concluded -upon renting a small house in a pleasant little village<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> -not far from the city, where I could obtain a few pupils, -and still be able to watch over my feeble charge.</p> - -<p>"It was in the 'merry, merry month of May,' that the -news of our reverses came, but it was late in October before -we left our home, that home rendered sacred by so many -hallowed associations. The intervening months had been -spent by me in watching over the sick couch of my aged -parent, in striving to compose my own agitated spirits, and -to gain sufficient courage to gaze unshrinkingly upon the -new and strange pathway I was about to tread.</p> - -<p>"Slowly and wearily passed they away, and the day at -length dawned that was to witness our departure. All -was bright and joyous in the outer world. The air was -soft and balmy as a morning in June. The trees were just -changing their green summer robes for the gorgeous attire -of autumn, with its rich colouring and brilliant dyes; and -the sky was as cloudless as if the storm-king had been -dethroned, and his banners furled for ever. The house, and -everything around it, presented much the same appearance -as in happier days; for the gentleman who had purchased -it had bought the furniture also, with the exception of a -few indispensable articles, that the kindness of the creditors -allowed us to retain for our new dwelling.</p> - -<p>"But oh, the darkness of the inner world! the gloom in -which my own soul was wrapped, when I awoke from a -short and troubled sleep, and the thought fell as a dull, -sickening weight upon my heart, that I had slept for the -last time in that quiet chamber! I passed from room to -room, and every step but added to my grief. Here was -the nursery and the little crib, where I could just remember<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span> -sleeping in my very babyhood; here the retired study, with -its perfect stillness, and the light coming in so stealthily -through the stained glass; here the library, my father's -favourite apartment, and there, in the recess with its bay -window, the arm-chair that had ever been his chosen resting-place; -and here the room where my mother had lain, in -her quiet beauty, ere the coffin-lid was closed, and she was -borne hence for ever.</p> - -<p>"In a distant part of the grounds, where the forest-trees -had not yet fallen, and where the hand of art had done -little more than to clear away the tangled underbrush, -there was a small plot enclosed by a stone wall, over which -wild vines and running mosses had been trained until the -gray stones were almost entirely hidden. The grass in the -enclosure was of the deepest green, and shaded though it -was by the overhanging trees, there had not a faded leaf or -a withered branch been suffered to rest upon it. In the -centre was a mound of earth, and over it a slab of white -marble, upon which lay the sculptured image of a woman, -young and of surpassing loveliness. She lay as if in sleep, -one rounded arm thrown over her head, and the other -dropping by her side; while from the half-opened hand a -white rose-bud had seemingly just fallen. It was my -mother's burial-place, and I bent my steps thitherward -that I might cast one farewell look upon it, before it passed -into the possession of strangers. A tide of softening recollections -swept over me as I stood by the grave, and falling -upon my knees, I poured out my full heart in prayer.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"'Oh, when the heart is sad—when bitter thoughts</div> -<div class="i0">Are crowding thickly up for utterance,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> -<div class="i0">And the poor, common words of courtesy</div> -<div class="i0">Are such a bitter mocking—how much</div> -<div class="i0">The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer!'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="in0">I rose from my knees calmer than I had been for many -weeks. I was sad, but not despairing,—and felt again, -what in my despondency I had well-nigh forgotten, that I -was in the hands of One who careth for His children.</p> - -<p>"When I returned to the house, I found the vehicle that -was to convey us away waiting at the door. My father -was already in his seat, and I sprang quickly in, not trusting -myself to cast another look around me. He—thanks to -his weakness and imbecility—had partaken little of my -dread or agony. Provided his daily wants were supplied, -it mattered little to him where his lot was cast."</p> - -<p>"But, Aunt Mary, where was Walter Elmore all this -time?"</p> - -<p>"I should have told you, my love, that business of vital -importance called him to a distant part of the country a -short time previous to our misfortunes, and there detained -him. He was kept apprised by my letters, however, of all -that had befallen us, and hastened to my side as soon as -he returned. He vehemently opposed my pursuance of -the course I had marked out for myself, and with all the -eloquence and earnestness of love, besought me to become -his wife at once, and give him a right to protect and -guard me.</p> - -<p>"But fervently as he prayed, and strongly as my own -heart seconded his entreaties, I could not yield. I had -thought that it was to be my blessed privilege to aid and -assist him I loved; to place him where it would no longer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span> -be necessary for him to confine his noble mind to close and -ceaseless drudgery, and constant toil for his daily bread. -And how could I now consent to be a drawback upon his -efforts, and to burden him with the care of my helpless -parent?</p> - -<p>"'No, no, Walter,' said I, in reply to his oft-repeated -solicitations; 'urge me no longer. For the present our -paths must be separated. Your task will be hard enough, -while you are taking the first steps towards acquiring a -name and a competence, even if you have no interests but -your own to regard. Were I alone in the world, I would -joyfully link my fate with yours, and we would toil together, -side by side. But as it is, it may not be. My -father cannot understand why he need be deprived of any -of his accustomed luxuries. Be it my care that he misses -them not. I will labour for his sustenance and my own, -until you are so circumstanced that, without detriment to -your own prospects, you can relieve me of the charge. -<i>Then</i> come to me, and the hand pledged to you in brighter -days shall be yours!'</p> - -<p>"A year passed not unhappily away in the earnest and -faithful discharge of the new duties devolving upon me. -My school flourished beyond my expectations. I had -gained the esteem and confidence of those around me, and -I found no difficulty in supplying our daily wants. Elmore -was in an adjacent city, in the office of an eminent lawyer, -who, it was imagined, would ere long make him a partner -in his business. During the last few months his visits had -been less frequent than of yore. Rumour told strange tales -of a young and exceedingly beautiful girl, the sister of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span> -employer, who was playing the mischief with the hearts -and brains of half the young men in M——, and more than -hinted that my lover was among the number of her admirers. -Things went on thus for some time. I fancied -that, when we met, which was rarely, his manner was cold -and reserved, and that he seemed to shrink from my presence. -I now know that my own jealous fancies threw a -false colouring over all his actions, and that, if there was -any coldness in his demeanour, it sprang from the unusual, -and, in fact, unintended reserve of mine.</p> - -<p>"At last I heard, from the lips of one whose veracity and -friendship I thought I could not question, that his leisure -hours were all spent in the society of my supposed rival, -and that, when rallied by some of his associates with regard -to myself, he had denied our engagement, and spoken lightly -and contemptuously of the 'school-mistress.'</p> - -<p>"A thousand contending passions were striving for the -mastery in my breast, when, upon the evening of that day, -after its weary labours were over, I threw myself upon a -low seat in the room that served alike as school-room and -parlour. Woman's pride—and who does not know that -'there is not a high thing out of heaven her pride o'er-mastereth -not?'—was all aroused. Memory was wide -awake, bringing back the recollection of by-gone days, -when my hand had been sought by the proudest in the -land. Then came thoughts of our early love—of the exquisite -happiness that had filled my heart, when I had so -rejoiced that wealth was at my command, and that I could -place it all at the feet of one whom I deemed so noble and -so pure—and of a later period, when, rather than place the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> -slightest barrier in his way to fame and fortune, I had resisted -all his entreaties, and confined myself to close and -unremitting toil. It was at this very moment when I was -half maddened by the retrospect, that the door opened, and -Walter Elmore entered.</p> - -<p>"Hastily rising, with every appearance of calmness, I received -him with a cold and stately courtesy, surprising even -to myself.</p> - -<p>"'What means this, Mary?' said he; and I could see that -his lip quivered, and the hand he had extended trembled. -'Why do you greet me thus coldly?'</p> - -<p>"'Let your own heart answer the question, Mr. Elmore. -To that and to your own words I refer you for reasons why -we must henceforth be strangers.'</p> - -<p>"'You speak enigmas to-night, my dear Mary. My heart -tells me no tale that can enable me to comprehend this unlooked-for -change in you. It will take more than your -simple assertion that we are strangers, to render us such; -and he again attempted to take my hand.</p> - -<p>"I drew back more haughtily than before, and words that -I cannot now repeat burst from my lips. I can only tell -you that they were harsh, stinging words—words fraught -with contempt and bitterness—words that a proud spirit -like Elmore's could not brook.</p> - -<p>"He sought no farther explanation. 'Be it as you will,' -he said, and his manner was as stern as my own; 'I have -asked you to account for this change, and you refuse compliance, -couching that refusal in terms that I can hear twice -from no one, not even from yourself. We meet no more; -but remember, Mary Atherton, the words you have this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span> -day uttered will ring in your ear until it is closed to all -earthly sounds. You have given heed to some idle tale of -calumny, and have wantonly flung away a heart that was -filled but with your image—a heart that had centred upon -you its every dream and wish for the far future—that lived -but in the hope of one day calling you its own—and that -looked forward to that period as to the commencement of a -better and a happier existence. The hour will come when -you will feel that this is true, and then will you bewail the -step you have now taken!'—and without one farewell look -he rushed from the room.</p> - -<p>"This prophecy was fulfilled almost before the echo of -his departing footsteps had died away. I felt that I was -labouring under some strange delusion, and bursting into -tears, I wept long and bitterly. I would have given worlds -to recall him; but his fleet steed was bearing him from -me, as on the wings of the wind. Yet, hope whispered: -'We shall surely meet again. My harsh words -angered him; but he has loved me so long and so fondly, -that he will not resign me thus easily. All will yet be -explained.'</p> - -<p>"But day after day passed and he came not; and my -heart was as if an iron hand was resting upon it, pressing -it downward to the very earth. The excitement of passion -had died away, and I could now see how greatly I had -erred, in not telling him frankly the tale that had reached -my ears, and thus giving him an opportunity to exculpate -himself from the charge. Alas! for pride and anger, how -often does the shadow of one unguarded moment darken -our life-paths for ever!</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span></p> - -<p>"Two weeks had elapsed; and one night, after vain -attempts to sleep, I rose from my couch and threw open -the lattice. The glare of daylight was wanting; but the -moon poured forth such a flood of radiance that the minutest -object was distinctly visible. All heaven and earth -were still; the very leaves upon the trees hung motionless -as those painted upon canvass. The perfect silence was -becoming painfully oppressive, when a low sound, like distant -footsteps, fell upon my ear. Nearer and still nearer it -came, and I could distinguish a faint murmur, as of half-suppressed -voices. Then a group of men approached. -They walked slowly and heavily, and as they drew near -I perceived that they bore a dark object. Soon, by their -reverential mien, and by the unyielding, uneven nature of -their burden, the stiff outlines of which were discernible -beneath the mantle thrown over it, I knew they were -bearing the dead.</p> - -<p>"They were passing directly beneath my window, when -a sudden movement of the bearers disarranged the pall, -and the moonbeams fell clear and soft upon the uncovered -features. I leaned forward, and—oh, God! it was the face -of Walter Elmore!</p> - -<p>"With a shriek that rang out fearfully upon the night-air, -I rushed forth, and threw myself upon the motionless -form. The men paused in astonishment; but I heeded -them not; I lifted the wet, dark locks from his forehead: -more than living beauty rested upon it; but it was cold, -icy cold,—so cold that the touch chilled my very life-blood. -I placed my hand upon his heart: but it beat no longer. -I kissed his pale lips again and again, and wildly called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span> -him by name, and prayed that he would speak to me once, -<i>only once</i> more; but he answered not. They thought I was -mad, and attempted to raise me, and bear the body on; -but I clung to it with a frenzied clasp, exclaiming: 'You -shall not separate us,—he is mine,—he is mine!' Then, -suddenly, in thunder tones, a voice from the depths of my -own spirit sounded in my ears: 'He is not yours: your -own hand severed the ties that bound you. What dost -thou here?' and I fell senseless to the ground.</p> - -<p>"When I next awoke to consciousness, the snow had -rested for many weeks upon the grave of Walter Elmore.</p> - -<p>"I cannot dwell longer upon this theme. Years have -fled since that name has passed my lips, until this evening; -but my brain whirls, even now, when I recall the agony of -that moment. Elmore had been crossing a narrow bridge, -when his foot slipped, and he was precipitated into the -water beneath. The current was strong; and his body -was found, by some travellers, washed on shore some distance -below.</p> - -<p>"I learned, before many months had passed, that the tale -to which I had given credence was an entire fabrication, -having its origin solely in jealousy and malice. He had -never swerved from his fidelity, even for one moment; but -I,—oh! would to God that my spirit might but for once -hold communion with his, that I might humble myself -before him, and implore forgiveness for the injustice and -coldness of our last interview!</p> - -<p>"Little more remains to be told. Shortly after, my -father sank to his rest; and the death of a distant relative -placed me in possession of a small annuity, which enabled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> -me to purchase this cottage. Here I shall probably live -until called to rejoin my loved ones in a happier clime."</p> - -<p>Aunt Mary's story was ended. My heart was too full -for utterance, and silently I pressed my lips upon her pale -forehead, and wended my way homewards.</p> - -<p>The next morning I left Elmwood. When I again revisited -my early home, a plain slab of marble in the -churchyard bore the name of Mary Atherton.</p> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>SUNSET ON THE RIVER DELAWARE.<br /> -<span class="small">A SONNET, TO "SIBYL."</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY J. I. PEASE.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">A day of storms!—But, at its latest close,</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Beyond</i> the cloud, comes forth the glowing sun,</div> -<div class="i2">Kissing the waves to dimples, one by one,</div> -<div class="i0">O'er which our homeward bark serenely goes.</div> -<div class="i0">The blue expanse with tremulous lustre glows,</div> -<div class="i2">As the warm hues of evening fade to dun;</div> -<div class="i2">And the still twilight hour comes softly down,</div> -<div class="i0">Like blessed, eyelids, for the day's repose.</div> -<div class="i0">And thus <i>our</i> day!—The heavy clouds rolled past,</div> -<div class="i2">The dark eclipse of doubt and fear is o'er;</div> -<div class="i2">The tides of life flow calmly as before,</div> -<div class="i0">And love's pure tranquil moon shines clear at last.</div> -<div class="i0">Oh, may this hour of beauty and of rest</div> -<div class="i0">Bring peace undreaming to thy troubled breast.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY S. A. H.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">I saw a noble bark upon the angry main—</div> -<div class="i2">The foamy billows pressed upon her track;</div> -<div class="i0">Now high, now low, I saw her timbers strain,</div> -<div class="i2">As forth she bounded o'er the waters black.</div> -<div class="i0">But ever, as a deeper plunge she gave,</div> -<div class="i0">Phosphoric brightness gleamed along the wave:</div> -<div class="i0">And thus, I said, wide o'er Life's stormy sea,</div> -<div class="i0">Glances the light of Faith, so pure and free.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">I marked a threatening cloud hang o'er the western sky,</div> -<div class="i2">And throw its blackness o'er the landscape fair,</div> -<div class="i0">Whence lightnings flashed, whence pealed the thunder high,</div> -<div class="i2">And wide re-echoed through the trembling air.</div> -<div class="i0">The sun broke forth, and all its dark array</div> -<div class="i0">Was gilded with the hues of parting day:</div> -<div class="i0">And thus, I said, can Hope's bright rays illume,</div> -<div class="i0">And richly paint the darkest days of gloom.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">I saw, at twilight eve, a snowy flower—</div> -<div class="i2">It closed its leaves and drooped its tender bud;</div> -<div class="i0">Cold came the dew, and blightingly the shower</div> -<div class="i2">Swept o'er the plant in swift destructive flood.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> -<div class="i0">But, bending o'er its tender charge its leaves,<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">20</a></div> -<div class="i0">Bows the strong branch, and needed shelter gives:</div> -<div class="i0">And thus, I said, does Charity descend,</div> -<div class="i0">And proves to every drooping one a friend.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<div class="footnote"> -<p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20">20</a> The tamarind plant, which closes its leaves over its young fruit and -flowers.</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>CASTLE-BUILDING.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY JAMES T. MITCHELL.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">At twilight, when the deepening shades</div> -<div class="i2">Of humid night are closing fast,</div> -<div class="i0">When o'er bright fields and green arcades</div> -<div class="i2">The dazzling beams of gold are cast,</div> -<div class="i0">Another day its weary round</div> -<div class="i2">Of mingled joys and pains has run,</div> -<div class="i0">And clouds, with golden fringes bound,</div> -<div class="i2">In beauty veil the setting sun,—</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">A silence, pleasing, calm, profound,</div> -<div class="i2">Falls soothing on the raptured brain;</div> -<div class="i0">The hum of busy life is drowned,</div> -<div class="i2">On crowded street and lonely plain;</div> -<div class="i0">The soul, in dreamy reveries lost,</div> -<div class="i2">To shadowy realms far distant roves,</div> -<div class="i0">In stormy waves of ether tost,</div> -<div class="i2">Then wandering wild in heavenly groves.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And cloud-built castles, towering high,</div> -<div class="i2">O'er gorgeous scenes that fancy rears,</div> -<div class="i0">Where laughing orbs illume the sky,</div> -<div class="i2">Seem mansions for our future years;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> -<div class="i0">And, while the spirit gazing stands,</div> -<div class="i2">Enwrapt with pleasure at the scenes</div> -<div class="i0">Which fill Imagination's lands</div> -<div class="i2">With palaces for fairy queens,</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The view is changing—all is gone—</div> -<div class="i2">The castles, fading slow away,</div> -<div class="i0">As misty shapes at early dawn,</div> -<div class="i2">Vanish before the coming day;</div> -<div class="i0">And storm-clouds now are lowering round;</div> -<div class="i2">Wild demon shapes are flitting by;</div> -<div class="i0">Fierce flames are rising from the ground,</div> -<div class="i2">And lurid lightnings cleave the sky.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Bleak snow-capped mountains o'er us frown,</div> -<div class="i2">While, gray and grim, through darkened air,</div> -<div class="i0">Towers and turrets, looking down</div> -<div class="i2">From rocky heights o'erhanging there,</div> -<div class="i0">Seem prisons for the wandering brain,</div> -<div class="i2">Within whose deep and caverned walls</div> -<div class="i0">'Tis doomed for ever to remain,</div> -<div class="i2">'Mid shrieks as from demoniac halls.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">But pyramids above these rise,</div> -<div class="i2">Whose summits, gleaming gaily bright,</div> -<div class="i0">Inspire with hope the fainting eyes,</div> -<div class="i2">As bathed they stand in golden light,</div> -<div class="i0">Lifting their peaks high o'er the dark,</div> -<div class="i2">Like shining spots, that on the breast</div> -<div class="i0">Of darkened Luna, seem to mark</div> -<div class="i2">Some towering Etna's blazing crest.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Perched on these lofty granite piles,</div> -<div class="i2">Rise adamantine domes of power,</div> -<div class="i0">Secure from treachery, force, or wiles,</div> -<div class="i2">Reared in Ambition's happy hour,</div> -<div class="i0">When, having left the storm behind,</div> -<div class="i2">Of raging battles, fears, and hates,</div> -<div class="i0">He spurns their threats as empty wind,</div> -<div class="i2">Himself the guardian of the gates.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Here in these grand, but lonely halls,—</div> -<div class="i2">Unmingling with the crowd below,</div> -<div class="i0">And all unharmed by what befalls</div> -<div class="i2">Poor wanderers in this world of woe,—</div> -<div class="i0">Ambition, well-directed, dwells,</div> -<div class="i2">While songs of sorrow, care, and grief,</div> -<div class="i0">Give place to martial music's swells,</div> -<div class="i2">Which proudly hail the victor chief.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Yet not alone—without a friend</div> -<div class="i2">To share his toil-bought honours great,</div> -<div class="i0">And by congenial spirit lend</div> -<div class="i2">New splendour to his regal state—</div> -<div class="i0">Celestial Hope dwells ever near,</div> -<div class="i2">And Happiness, her sister gay;</div> -<div class="i0">And thus they live, while year on year</div> -<div class="i2">With rapid pinions rolls away.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">But gazing from these lofty walls,</div> -<div class="i2">A landscape rises bright and fair,</div> -<div class="i0">Where happy light serenely falls</div> -<div class="i2">On scenes of gorgeous beauty there.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> -<div class="i0">Here crystal founts, 'mid orient flowers,</div> -<div class="i2">Which radiant shine in varied hues,</div> -<div class="i0">Flow joyous through an Eden's bowers,</div> -<div class="i2">Where perfume loads the falling dews;</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">While here and there, these laughing streams,</div> -<div class="i2">Dimpling and eddying ever gay,</div> -<div class="i0">Rippling o'er golden sand, that gleams</div> -<div class="i2">Like the Golcondian diamond's ray,</div> -<div class="i0">Leap headlong down a rocky dell,</div> -<div class="i2">And o'er the heaven's ethereal azure</div> -<div class="i0">Cast many a rainbow's glittering spell,</div> -<div class="i2">That chains the heart in silent pleasure.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And 'neath the heaven's o'erarching bow,</div> -<div class="i0">Bloom laurels proud, and violets low,</div> -<div class="i0">In fragrance sweet, and beauty rare,</div> -<div class="i0">With graceful rose, and lily fair;</div> -<div class="i0">The mirthful grape, and crocus glad,</div> -<div class="i0">Yet here and there, geranium sad,</div> -<div class="i0">With hawthorn, and ambrosia kind,</div> -<div class="i0">And 'mongst them all is ivy twined.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Amid these blooming spirit-lands,</div> -<div class="i0">Mid chaplets wreathed by Love's own hands,</div> -<div class="i0">The glowing flowers of Love are found</div> -<div class="i0">With which his shining locks are crowned;</div> -<div class="i0">He sings a song, through all the day long,</div> -<div class="i2">Of joy, and of gladness, and glee,</div> -<div class="i0">And he sits so light, on his throne so bright,</div> -<div class="i2">Oh ever a conquering king is he!</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">But when the sunset's golden dyes</div> -<div class="i0">Have faded away from the western skies;</div> -<div class="i0">And these fairy gardens are seen by night.</div> -<div class="i0">Over their moonlit waters bright,</div> -<div class="i0">On which, as they're merrily flowing and dancing,</div> -<div class="i0">The light of the stars is twinkling and glancing,</div> -<div class="i0">There's a charm in that silent midnight hour,</div> -<div class="i0">They only can tell who have felt its power.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">There's a mystic spell in its silence sweet,</div> -<div class="i0">And a magic thrill through all who meet,</div> -<div class="i0">Where kindred thoughts together stray,</div> -<div class="i0">Whispering beneath pale Luna's ray;</div> -<div class="i0">Then is the time for poet's song,</div> -<div class="i0">When his voice on the zephyr is borne along,</div> -<div class="i0">And slumbering echo, like fairy fay,</div> -<div class="i0">Murmurs the words of his wakening lay.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">But the rosy beams of the coming morn</div> -<div class="i0">Tell us how fast the night has worn,</div> -<div class="i0">How far and free the soul has strayed,</div> -<div class="i0">Wandering 'mong scenes in fancy laid;</div> -<div class="i0">And the heathcock's note, or the matin bell,</div> -<div class="i0">As the morning breeze brings its pealing swell,</div> -<div class="i0">Recalls the soul from its musings there,</div> -<div class="i0">To find its "Castles"—built in air.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter newpage"> - <img src="images/i_184a.jpg" alt="Lake_Pepin" /> - <div class="caption"> - <span class="xsmall">C. Schuessele del. Drawn by Cap<sup>t.</sup> S. Eastman. Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph<sup>a.</sup></span><br /> - <span class="vspace"> </span><br /> - WENONA'S LEAP. LAKE PEPIN, MISS. RIVER. - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="style1" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>THE LOVER'S LEAP:<br /> -<span class="small">OR, WENONA'S ROCK.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - -<p>Love, which "rules the court, the camp, the grove," is -not without a share of influence in the wigwam.</p> - -<p>It is true that in a polished and refined society, woman -is more likely to receive a just appreciation, than where the -intellect of man is like the one talent rolled in a napkin, -useless, because neglected and unimproved. In an enlightened -country, woman is not considered as being only -created to perform the household duties of a wife and -mother. She is a companion, in the highest sense of the -word. Her aim, like his, may be towards the great purposes -of life.</p> - -<p>Not unmindful of her first duties, those which lie in her -province alone, she can go on towards that exalted state of -perfection of which the soul is capable, though not to be -attained here. Religion, that teaches her "that the price -of a virtuous woman is far above rubies," also commends -her that "she openeth her mouth with wisdom." We find -her in the sacred history not only the friend, the mother, -and the wife, but the poet, the heroine, the prophetess, and -even the judge. But among Indian nations we find her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span> -position more than equivocal. Her influence is undoubted -in the domestic relations, but she is still a slave. She was -born to labour—what merit then in her strongest efforts! -She is an inferior—how then can she hope for justice?</p> - -<p>Among the Sioux, the men appear indeed to be a superior -class of beings. They are noble-looking, while the -women are often repelling in appearance. The difficulties -with which they must contend in the harsh climate of their -country; their poverty increasing year after year; their -frequent and long fastings: these all make the men more -hardy, more capable of a continued struggle, but they have -a different effect upon the women. They are compelled to -remain in the lodge; the care of their children obliges them -to forego the excitement of seeking for food, and thus sickness -and even death is often brought upon them that could -otherwise have been avoided. They are often found buried -in the snow in winter, prevented by sickness from making -such efforts as saved the lives of their husbands and -brothers.</p> - -<p>But their noble courage, where the emotions of the heart -are concerned, gives them the first place in the romantic -traditions of their country.</p> - -<p>The Sioux will soon have taken a farewell look of the -lands which the Great Spirit gave them in the olden time. -The lodge and its occupants are vanishing away. The occasional -war-whoop will soon be forgotten where it has been -heard in unrecorded ages. The scenes of many a romantic -tradition will be forgotten by those who succeed the valiant -but doomed people, who must look upon them no more. -The hunter and his wild steed depart, and the white man,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span> -the axe, the plough, and the powder-horn take their place.<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">21</a> -The fairy-rings<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">22</a> on the prairie must be trodden down.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span> -Spirits will no more assemble where are heard the noise and -excitement of advancing civilization. The same sun gilds -the hills, the same breezes play upon the waters—but the -red man must go.</p> - -<p>He must, with his heart full of patriotism and sorrow, -find another site for his lodge, another country for his hunting-grounds. -The wakeen-stone to which he was sacrificed -is no longer his. The graves of his ancestors reproach him -as he departs.</p> - -<p>The illustration of Wenona's Rock presents one of the -most striking and beautiful scenes in Indian country. Even -were there no tradition connected with it, its wonderful -beauty must give it interest. One must indeed feel that -God made it. That huge rock with its worn and broken -sides—the lake that reflects it in her placid bosom—the -everlasting hills stretching out before the eye,—these would -show the Creator's handiwork.</p> - -<p>But there is an additional interest in viewing it when we -recall the tale of sorrow and passion connected with it. -When we recollect that <i>here</i> a young heart throbbed its last -emotions—that from that high eminence the sweet notes of -woman's voice pealed forth their last music. That <i>here</i> her -arms were raised to heaven, appealing for that justice which -earth had denied her.</p> - - -<div class="figcenter newpage"> - <img src="images/i_188a.jpg" alt="Marriage_Custom" /> - <div class="caption"> - <span class="xsmall">C. Schuessele del. Drawn by Cap<sup>t.</sup> S. Eastman. Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph<sup>a.</sup></span><br /> - <span class="vspace"> </span><br /> - MARRIAGE CUSTOM OF THE INDIANS. - </div> -</div> - - -<p>But it is not only on Wenona's Rock that the devotion -of an Indian woman's love is recorded. Go among them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> -and hear the traditions of each band; how many have -loved and died. Learn of the sacrifices that only woman -can make—of the devotion that only woman can feel—of -the sorrows that only woman can endure.</p> - -<p>You may see one, who, though past her youth, still -attracts you by the full and expressive glances of her dark -and brilliant eyes. Her hair (a marvel among Indians), -waves along her forehead—and when damp from heat or -bathing, divides itself into locks, that would with any pains -be formed into ringlets. Her smile lights up her countenance, -for her white teeth shine, and her mouth, though -large, is expressive. She will not open her heart to a -stranger, but to one she loves, she told all.</p> - -<p>She had seen but fourteen summers when she left her -mother to go to her husband's lodge. She loved to dwell -upon that time, for no bride ever boasted greater adornment, -and her marriage was celebrated according to the old -and venerated customs.<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">23</a></p> - -<p>She was a whole morning preparing herself, for her -mother loved her, and was proud of her. She had obtained -from the traders gay beads of every colour, and brooches in -numbers, too.</p> - -<p>Her father was a favourite of the traders. He carried -them so many beautiful furs—for he was a great hunter—that -they gave him trinkets for her in abundance. They -gave him, besides, fire-water; and then she and her mother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> -used to leave the wigwam and hide, for fear he would kill -her.</p> - -<p>When she was ready to go to her husband's lodge, her -father and two of her brothers attended her. Her cousin, -Whistling Wind, came to meet her, and, taking her upon -his back, carried her in and placed her by her husband's -side.</p> - -<p>She was very happy at first, for her husband loved her; -but many moons passed away, and she had no child.</p> - -<p>Her husband reproached her, and she could only weep—and -no infant's voice was heard in their lodge.</p> - -<p>At last her husband brought home another wife, and she -was forgotten. Soon she watched him as he carved the -thunder-bird on his son's cradle; and the second wife -laughed at her, because she could not be a happy mother -like herself.</p> - -<p>He has beaten her sometimes—for he drinks fire-water -too.</p> - -<p>She might return to her mother, for her family is a -powerful one, but she cannot leave her husband. She cannot -forget the love of her early youth. She stays by him, -for he is often sick, and she can take better care of him -than his other wife, who has many young children.</p> - -<p>Wherever is man, with his proud, exacting spirit, there -is woman, with her devoted and enduring love. There are -many instances of heroic affection, not recorded in the -traditionary annals of the Sioux; but Wenona's Rock will -stand, as long as the world lasts, a monument in memory -of woman's love.</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> -<p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21">21</a> The Seal of Minesota, adopted in 1850, represents an Indian warrior -departing on his steed: while a husbandman is in the foreground, surrounded -by the implements of civilization,—the plough, axe, and rifle. The -scene is located at Anthony's Falls.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22">22</a> On the prairies we frequently observe what the Sioux call Fairy-rings. -These are circles, occasioned by the grass growing in this form, higher and -of a darker colour than that around it. Medicine-Bottle, an inferior chief, -living now about twenty miles from Fort Snelling, says that "they are the -paths in which their ancestors danced their war-dances;" the Indians at -Lac qui Parle say the same thing. In confirmation of this opinion, it may -be stated, that these circles of dark grass vary about as much from true -circles as do the paths in which the Sioux dance at the present time. -Chequered Cloud, a medicine-woman, much esteemed among the Sioux, -says "that these circles were made, in the first instance, by one of their -gods, Unk tomi sapa tonka, the large black spider, for the warriors to -dance in." I will observe that Dr. Williamson, a missionary among the -Sioux, requested from the two Indians mentioned their opinion on this -subject, telling them I had asked it. Dr. Williamson gives his own -opinion, or rather observation, thus:—"It seems to me, from the appearance -of these circles, that they enlarge every year: and I have thought it -probable that they originated from the death of some large animal, or -other like cause, destroying the common grass of the prairie and enriching -the ground, thus starting grass of another kind, or weeds which grow -rankly in this manner, and overshadowing, and to some extent destroying -the surrounding grass, the next year taking possession of the ground from -which the common grass has been destroyed, &c."</p> - -<p>"On mentioning this and your letter to Mr. G. H. Pond," Dr. W. continues, -"he said, Lieut. Mather, the geologist, who visited this country -(Minesota) with Featherstonhaugh, many years ago, had advanced the -same opinion. In confirmation of it, I would observe, that in the large -prairies up the St. Peter's River, I have often seen buffalo bones in -these circles." Mr. Pond, the Doctor adds, did not think these circles -originated in this way: saying, some supposed they were caused by a -mineral in the soil, and that he had observed, that when cattle came on or -near these circles, they always eat the dark grass in the ring close to the -ground, neglecting or passing over that growing elsewhere.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23">23</a> The marriage custom of the Sioux is given in "Dacota, or Legends of -the Sioux." The ancient form, as represented in the illustration, is still -venerated, and frequently, though not always celebrated.</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>THE INDIAN MOTHER,<br /> -<span class="small">AND THE SONG OF THE WIND.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i6">Softly the Indian mother<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">24</a> sings—</div> -<div class="i8">"Woman's heart is strong,</div> -<div class="i6">When she works for those she loves,</div> -<div class="i8">Through the summer's day so long.</div> -<div class="i6">Hark! to the wind's wild voice, my babe—</div> -<div class="i8">What may its story be,</div> -<div class="i6">Stirring thy cradle-bed, securely laid</div> -<div class="i8">In the arms of the forest tree?"</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"We have travelled afar, but we come again;</div> -<div class="i0">We have passed o'er the couch of weakness and pain;</div> -<div class="i0">We have seen the gifted from earth depart;</div> -<div class="i0">We have fanned the brow of the broken heart;</div> -<div class="i0">We have fled from the shrieks of the mighty in death,</div> -<div class="i0">From the battle's rage and the victor's breath;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span> -<div class="i0">We have been at the grave—at the infant's birth;</div> -<div class="i0">We know all the cares of the children of earth.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Our wail is heard o'er the mighty deep,</div> -<div class="i0">In whose breast the loved and lost ones sleep,</div> -<div class="i0">When, sweeping in rage, the hurricane blast</div> -<div class="i0">Tosses to heaven the waters vast.</div> -<div class="i0">When we bear o'er the foaming and dashing main</div> -<div class="i0">The voices that ne'er will be heard again;</div> -<div class="i0">Yet we come and go at His will, who said</div> -<div class="i0">To the sea 'Be still!' and its waves obeyed.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"The air was still as we stayed our breath,</div> -<div class="i0">While the mother wept o'er her young child's death—</div> -<div class="i0">A fatherless child; 'twas peacefully laid,</div> -<div class="i0">So placid and calm, 'neath the curtain's shade.</div> -<div class="i0">Yet, pressing the clay to her throbbing breast,</div> -<div class="i0">'Oh! when,' she cried, 'will I be at rest?'</div> -<div class="i0">We sang for the child a requiem low,</div> -<div class="i0">And the mother's to sing on our way we go.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"But why should we chaunt of sorrow and gloom,</div> -<div class="i0">Of night and the tempest, of tears and the tomb?</div> -<div class="i0">Those who are parted shall meet again—</div> -<div class="i0">The sea yield her victims, the earth her slain;</div> -<div class="i0">Our mission we haste o'er ocean to bear;</div> -<div class="i0">We tell of his glory whose servants we are.</div> -<div class="i0">We quell with our tidings the idol's dark power,</div> -<div class="i0">That the cries of its victims be heard never more.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"We raise from the earth the spirit crushed;</div> -<div class="i0">At the sight of the cross its murmurs are hushed.</div> -<div class="i0">Our voice is heard, and the wandering son</div> -<div class="i0">In spirit turns to his long-left home.</div> -<div class="i0">He remembers his father's voice in prayer,</div> -<div class="i0">And he kneels by the side of his mother there;</div> -<div class="i0">And he cries, while his steps are homeward trod,</div> -<div class="i0">'Oh! be thou mine, my father's God!'</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Alike is the charge and the mission given</div> -<div class="i0">To the faithful heart and the winds of heaven,</div> -<div class="i0">To tell how the Saviour came to earth,</div> -<div class="i0">How poor he was from the hour of his birth:</div> -<div class="i0">His own griefs unheeded, for others he sighed;</div> -<div class="i0">Of the life that he lived, of the death that he died.</div> -<div class="i0">To earth's farthest shore these tidings we bear—</div> -<div class="i0">All glory to Him whose servants we are."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i4">Again the Indian mother sings—</div> -<div class="i6">"Woman's heart is strong,</div> -<div class="i4">When she works for those she loves,</div> -<div class="i6">Through the summer's day so long.</div> -<div class="i4">I would know what the wild winds said, my babe—</div> -<div class="i6">What could their story be,</div> -<div class="i4">Stirring thy cradle-bed, securely laid</div> -<div class="i6">In the arms of the forest tree?"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<div class="footnote"> -<p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24">24</a> Indian women take great interest in listening to instruction connected -with religious subjects. They often deplore the difference in their position -from that of the white woman, desiring for themselves and their children -the thousand comforts and advantages they observe the wives and children -of the white man possess. Only can they ever hope to enjoy them when -their nation becomes a Christian one.</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>THE WOOD SPIRITS AND THE MAIDEN.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - -<p class="center in0">Those who have lived among the Indians are accustomed to their faith in the protecting power -of the Spirits of Nature. Especially powerful is the god of the woods and forests.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Day with its gorgeous light passes away,</div> -<div class="i0">Shadows of coming night darken the way.</div> -<div class="i8">Who is the wanderer</div> -<div class="i8">With the long braided hair?</div> -<div class="i8">'Mid the tall evergreens,</div> -<div class="i8">She like a fairy seems;</div> -<div class="i8">Know ye the maiden young,</div> -<div class="i8">Wood Spirits, say?</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Know we the maiden young—mark well her form,</div> -<div class="i0">Like the tall pine tree, when rages the storm.</div> -<div class="i8">How like the dark bird's wing</div> -<div class="i8">Glistens her braided hair.</div> -<div class="i8">When watching o'er her birth,</div> -<div class="i8">Sang we a song of earth,</div> -<div class="i8">We were her guardians made,</div> -<div class="i8">She was our child.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Soon o'er her body cold, chaunt we her funeral hymn,</div> -<div class="i0">Wild branches, torn and old, timing the requiem.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span> -<div class="i8">Why does she wander here,</div> -<div class="i8">With the long braided hair?</div> -<div class="i8">Why is the maiden pale—</div> -<div class="i8">Why does her breathing fail?</div> -<div class="i8">Now, by the moonbeams fair,</div> -<div class="i8">See her dimmed eye.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">She loved as maiden loves, she wept as woman weeps.</div> -<div class="i0">Soon will her restless frame sleep where her lover sleeps.</div> -<div class="i8">Then to our far-off groves</div> -<div class="i8">Will we her spirit hear.</div> -<div class="i8">When heaves her parting sigh,</div> -<div class="i8">When closed her lustrous eye,</div> -<div class="i8">We will her guardians be,—</div> -<div class="i8">She is our child.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>ALICE HILL.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. M. E. W. ALEXANDER.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Fast by a brook, whose murmuring streams</div> -<div class="i0">Reflected heaven in angel dreams,</div> -<div class="i0">Embosomed in a quiet wood,</div> -<div class="i0">An old and storm-rent school-house stood.</div> -<div class="i0">All brown with age and worn by rains,</div> -<div class="i0">Rude winter shook the shattered panes,</div> -<div class="i0">That shivered in their casements light,</div> -<div class="i0">Like goblins' teeth on windy night.</div> -<div class="i0">But when the sun shone down the hill,</div> -<div class="i0">On smiling field and gushing rill,</div> -<div class="i0">And by the school-house danced the brook,</div> -<div class="i0">Through hidden course or leafy nook,</div> -<div class="i0">On shattered panes in casement light</div> -<div class="i0">Its summer rays streamed clear and bright.</div> -<div class="i0">Of pleasant ways and knowledge fair,</div> -<div class="i0">Blithe Alice Hill reigned mistress there,—</div> -<div class="i0">Nor birchen rod nor oaken rule</div> -<div class="i0">In terror held this woodland school;</div> -<div class="i0">Love awed the spirits bold and wild,</div> -<div class="i0">Love won the most rebellious child,—</div> -<div class="i0">O, Alice Hill! just sweet sixteen,</div> -<div class="i0">Of pleasant ways and courteous mien,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> -<div class="i0">With glowing cheeks and eyes of blue,</div> -<div class="i0">And glossy hair of golden hue,</div> -<div class="i0">O God! that I should ever live,</div> -<div class="i0">Such sad account of thee to give!</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">In Moreland vale brown Autumn's tilth,</div> -<div class="i0">Impatient waits the reaper's scythe:</div> -<div class="i0">Where, scattered with a bounteous hand,</div> -<div class="i0">Luxuriant harvests thickly stand.</div> -<div class="i0">The sunlight bathes the waving grain,</div> -<div class="i0">That sweetly smiles to sun again;</div> -<div class="i0">The landscape lies in green and gold,</div> -<div class="i0">And purple clouds in ether rolled,</div> -<div class="i0">Or gentle blue now smile above</div> -<div class="i0">This earthly scene of Eden love.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">With dashing wheels and flying steed,</div> -<div class="i0">Nor whip nor spur to urge their speed,</div> -<div class="i0">To view his land Fitch Moreland came,</div> -<div class="i0">The eldest of his honoured name,</div> -<div class="i0">And heir of all, the green-crowned wood,</div> -<div class="i0">In which the low-roofed school-house stood,</div> -<div class="i0">The wide-spread fields, the meadows broad,</div> -<div class="i0">The fruitful land and grassy sward,</div> -<div class="i0">And near embraced with roses wild</div> -<div class="i0">The old brown house that through them smiled,</div> -<div class="i0">Where Alice Hill had passed her days</div> -<div class="i0">Unnoticed by a flatterer's gaze;</div> -<div class="i0">And Rudolph Hill, a farmer skilled,</div> -<div class="i0">The fields had reaped, the lands had tilled,</div> -<div class="i0">Fitch Moreland's tenant, prompt to pay</div> -<div class="i0">His rent and taxes gathering day.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Just free from school, with shout and song,</div> -<div class="i0">Fitch Moreland met a joyous throng,</div> -<div class="i0">And joined their sports, with heart as gay,</div> -<div class="i0">As boyhood had not passed away;</div> -<div class="i0">Till seated in a fairy glade,</div> -<div class="i0">Beneath an elm tree's grateful shade,</div> -<div class="i0">Sweet Alice Hill fell on his sight,</div> -<div class="i0">With glowing cheeks and eyes of light:</div> -<div class="i0">Around her neck, her hair unbound,</div> -<div class="i0">In floating tresses swept the ground,</div> -<div class="i0">And pupils kneeling at her side,</div> -<div class="i0">Wild flowers in graceful garlands tied,</div> -<div class="i0">A coronal as fresh and gay</div> -<div class="i0">As ever crowned "the Queen of May."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">With courteous words and city mien,</div> -<div class="i0">Fitch Moreland joined the rustic scene.</div> -<div class="i0">Quick beat the heart of Alice Hill,</div> -<div class="i0">Her pulses woke a music thrill:</div> -<div class="i0">Her glowing cheek with crimson flushed,</div> -<div class="i0">And in her heart tumultuous gushed</div> -<div class="i0">A spring of thought, so sweet and rare,</div> -<div class="i0">It might have claimed the name of air,</div> -<div class="i0">Its unseen visions came so bright,</div> -<div class="i0">To shed on life a holier light.</div> -<div class="i0">O ye who wear love's gentle spell,</div> -<div class="i0">And bless the bondage, can ye tell</div> -<div class="i0">Blithe Alice Hill if this was Love,—</div> -<div class="i0">That like a homeless, wandering dove,</div> -<div class="i0">Beat at her fluttering heart, and sought</div> -<div class="i0">An altar for his blissful thought?</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">No longer now, like placid streams,</div> -<div class="i0">Life passes by in quiet dreams;</div> -<div class="i0">But hurried, feverish pulses shake</div> -<div class="i0">The beating heart they may not break,—</div> -<div class="i0">Hope, fear, desire, and all that stored</div> -<div class="i0">The spring of life, hung on his word:</div> -<div class="i0">There was no life without his smile,</div> -<div class="i0">Nor dreamed she that a heart of guile</div> -<div class="i0">Beat in so fair and smooth a shrine,</div> -<div class="i0">That other eyes for him might shine,</div> -<div class="i0">And softer voices breathe his name!</div> -<div class="i0">O, Alice Hill, love's vestal flame</div> -<div class="i0">Hath many a false, misguiding light,</div> -<div class="i0">To cheat young hearts, with promise bright.</div> -<div class="i0">And strew life's shores with dearer wrecks</div> -<div class="i0">Than perish from our wave-washed decks.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The fowler laid a cunning snare:</div> -<div class="i0">The timid bird was fluttering there,</div> -<div class="i0">And paused on half-suspended wing,</div> -<div class="i0">To hear the subtle charmer sing;</div> -<div class="i0">Close to the brink, with dizzy sense,</div> -<div class="i0">She hung upon his eloquence;</div> -<div class="i0">Lured by the magic of his eye,</div> -<div class="i0">She quite forgot her power to fly,</div> -<div class="i0">Till reeling, powerless with the spell,</div> -<div class="i0">She lost her fragile hold and fell.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The fowler saw his lovely spoil</div> -<div class="i0">Entangled in the dazzling toil,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span> -<div class="i0">A few frail threads of woven gauze,</div> -<div class="i0">But deadly as the lion's jaws.</div> -<div class="i0">Not till her golden wings were shorn,</div> -<div class="i0">The timid bird escaped forlorn—</div> -<div class="i0">To soar with flocks of grosser mould,</div> -<div class="i0">An alien from the heavenly fold,</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The timid bird, a human heart—</div> -<div class="i0">The snare, a smooth seducer's art—</div> -<div class="i0">How can my pitying pen rehearse</div> -<div class="i0">The burden of its mournful verse,</div> -<div class="i0">Since he who triumphed in his power</div> -<div class="i0">To crush so meek and low a flower,</div> -<div class="i0">Contemptuous spurned it from his path,</div> -<div class="i0">To die a lone neglected death,</div> -<div class="i0">And to the winds his bauble tost—</div> -<div class="i0">Left Alice Hill, betrayed and lost.</div> -<div class="i0">And, Alice Hill, his haughty name</div> -<div class="i0">Will never hide thy maiden shame—</div> -<div class="i0">And though he swear it on his life,</div> -<div class="i0">Thou'lt never be Fitch Moreland's wife!</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Farewell, my own, my waiting bride!</div> -<div class="i0">Though I am wandering from thy side,</div> -<div class="i0">And from these favourite haunts afar,</div> -<div class="i0">I see thine eyes in every star,</div> -<div class="i0">I hear thy voice in every breeze,</div> -<div class="i0">That floats through summer's radiant trees;</div> -<div class="i0">And thou shalt wear our bridal ring,</div> -<div class="i0">And wear it as a holy thing,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span> -<div class="i0">Till, to the sacred altar led,</div> -<div class="i0">It be the seal by which we wed."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Years rolled down Time's resistless tides</div> -<div class="i0">Where Time, Eternity divides;</div> -<div class="i0">Fitch Moreland, high in hall and state,</div> -<div class="i0">Cared not that by the elm tree sate</div> -<div class="i0">Poor Alice Hill, to reason lost,</div> -<div class="i0">Like oarless bark on ocean tost;</div> -<div class="i0">Not wildly crazed to tear her hair,</div> -<div class="i0">But mute and sad, as if despair</div> -<div class="i0">Had worn away life's tuneful strings,</div> -<div class="i0">And sealed to Thought its gushing springs.</div> -<div class="i0">But on that ring mute Alice Hill</div> -<div class="i0">For ever looks, as if a thrill</div> -<div class="i0">Of reason shot across her brain,</div> -<div class="i0">And darted gleams of mental pain.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Bold Winter lay on Moreland Vale.</div> -<div class="i0">His bearded crown of ice and hail,</div> -<div class="i0">And columns wreathed in feathery snow,</div> -<div class="i0">How childhood dreams of glory show.</div> -<div class="i0">Fast by these piles, on reeking steed,</div> -<div class="i0">A post-boy checked his furious speed,</div> -<div class="i0">And whispered to a gaping wight,</div> -<div class="i0">"Fitch Moreland takes a wife to-night."</div> -<div class="i0">Mute Alice Hill the echo caught,—</div> -<div class="i0">With stealthy steps the town she sought,</div> -<div class="i0">That three leagues off in beauty lay</div> -<div class="i0">Along Wamphassock's lovely bay—</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span> -<div class="i0">With hair arranged and graceful dress,</div> -<div class="i0">None would have dreamed such loveliness</div> -<div class="i0">Concealed a heart to reason lost,</div> -<div class="i0">Like oarless bark on ocean tost.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Light, glorious light, streamed clear and wide,</div> -<div class="i0">Through the proud dome of Moreland's bride,</div> -<div class="i0">And mirth and music chid the hours</div> -<div class="i0">Lost in a maze of thornless flowers.</div> -<div class="i0">His eye erect in manly pride,</div> -<div class="i0">Fitch Moreland stood beside his bride,</div> -<div class="i0">Nor dreamed he that his Eden bough</div> -<div class="i0">Hung on a false and perjured vow.</div> -<div class="i0">The holy priest in scarf and bands</div> -<div class="i0">With holy words had joined their hands,</div> -<div class="i0">And as to make more strong an oath,</div> -<div class="i0">When each had pledged their plighted troth,</div> -<div class="i0">A gleaming ring in diamonds set,</div> -<div class="i0">That hid a lock of glossy jet,</div> -<div class="i0">The fragile finger graceful pressed,</div> -<div class="i0">As sunlight lies on ocean's crest.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">A maddened brain, a spirit strong,</div> -<div class="i0">Has pressed aside that startled throng.</div> -<div class="i0">With glaring eyes and purple cheeks,</div> -<div class="i0">Fitch Moreland's side a woman seeks,</div> -<div class="i0">While o'er her half-ethereal frame</div> -<div class="i0">The altar sheds its holy flame.</div> -<div class="i0">The grasp on Moreland's arm was light,</div> -<div class="i0">But those wild eyes, so wildly bright,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span> -<div class="i0">His craven soul with terror fill,</div> -<div class="i0">For now he knows crazed Alice Hill.</div> -<div class="i0">A ring she from her finger drew,</div> -<div class="i0">And held it forth to Moreland's view,</div> -<div class="i0">And murmured low, in tones that thrilled</div> -<div class="i0">His thickly throbbing pulse, and stilled</div> -<div class="i0">The awe-struck guests, as if a breath</div> -<div class="i0">Had touched them from the wing of death:</div> -<div class="i0">"Four times twelve months have quickly fled—</div> -<div class="i0">This be the seal by which we wed,</div> -<div class="i0">And in this light empyreal bow,</div> -<div class="i0">To consecrate, our bridal vow!</div> -<div class="i0">I sit beneath the elm alone</div> -<div class="i0">Since thou, my own, my love, art gone.</div> -<div class="i0">Where hast thou trifled on the way,</div> -<div class="i0">Like truant-boy forbid to stay?</div> -<div class="i0">But hush, my heart, thou needst not chide:</div> -<div class="i0">Fitch Moreland claims his waiting bride!</div> -<div class="i0">My beating heart, what raptures thrill,</div> -<div class="i0">Tumultuous heart, be still! be still!"</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">A sturdy arm grasped Alice Hill,</div> -<div class="i0">Who struggling fiercely, shrieking shrill,</div> -<div class="i0">Out from the door was rudely cast,</div> -<div class="i0">Though storms were out and tide and blast.</div> -<div class="i0">There shivering on the pavement cold</div> -<div class="i0">Sat Alice Hill, with spirit bold,</div> -<div class="i0">Roused by a blow, revenge to claim</div> -<div class="i0">For reason lost and peace and name.</div> -<div class="i0">The holy priest completes his task,</div> -<div class="i0">And bride and groom his blessing ask.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">What benediction can reverse</div> -<div class="i0">A wronged and ruined woman's curse?</div> -<div class="i0">With fettered hands and ringlets shorn,</div> -<div class="i0">Poor Alice Hill, a maniac, borne</div> -<div class="i0">On to the mad-house's gloomy walls,</div> -<div class="i0">For ever on Fitch Moreland calls,—</div> -<div class="i0">"I am not mad! Unloose these bands!</div> -<div class="i0">See here my tortured, bleeding hands!</div> -<div class="i0">On Moreland's ring a crimson stain:</div> -<div class="i0">It shall not plead my wrongs in vain;</div> -<div class="i0">For in my heart revenge lies deep—</div> -<div class="i0">Its glassy eyes shall never sleep,</div> -<div class="i0">Till at the altar, live or dead,</div> -<div class="i0">This be the seal by which we wed!"</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">A pallet, undisturbed by night,</div> -<div class="i0">Fell on the careful matron's sight.</div> -<div class="i0">And Alice Hill from thence had fled,</div> -<div class="i0">With shoeless feet and naked head.</div> -<div class="i0">Long was the search, and every track</div> -<div class="i0">Pursued to bring crazed Alice back.</div> -<div class="i0">But vain pursuit, reward in vain,</div> -<div class="i0">To bring crazed Alice back again.</div> -<div class="i0">Wrapped in a cloak of faded red,</div> -<div class="i0">With shoeless feet and naked head,</div> -<div class="i0">And ringlets shorn, a woman stood</div> -<div class="i0">Half muttering, in a crazy mood,</div> -<div class="i0">And watched with glazed and jealous eye</div> -<div class="i0">A gorgeous equipage move by.</div> -<div class="i0">Reined in the light of glaring lamps</div> -<div class="i0">The restless steed his bridle champs.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">A form alights with agile bound,</div> -<div class="i0">But reeling, totters to the ground.</div> -<div class="i0">They said, who passed, a weapon's gleam</div> -<div class="i0">Danced in the moonlight's silvery beam.</div> -<div class="i0">Crowds gathered round, a crimson tide</div> -<div class="i0">Was slowly ebbing from his side,</div> -<div class="i0">When on their sight a weapon flashed,</div> -<div class="i0">And feet that living current plashed,</div> -<div class="i0">Till bending o'er his shivering frame</div> -<div class="i0">A woman wildly shrieked his name.</div> -<div class="i0">"Turn on me now your treacherous eyes!</div> -<div class="i0">Speak, lying lips, while perjury dies,</div> -<div class="i0">See what a work a falsehood wrought,</div> -<div class="i0">My love with life were dearly bought,</div> -<div class="i0">But peace and reason with it fled—</div> -<div class="i0">Eternal curses on your head!</div> -<div class="i0">You stole my love, an artless child</div> -<div class="i0">By sacred promises beguiled,</div> -<div class="i0">Then left me to a blighted name,</div> -<div class="i0">To add new laurels to your fame;—</div> -<div class="i0">To death's avenging altar led,</div> -<div class="i0">This be the seal by which we wed."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Upraised, the weapon gleamed again</div> -<div class="i0">On coward hearts and awe-struck men:</div> -<div class="i0">Beside Fitch Moreland, fainting, dead,</div> -<div class="i0">Lay Alice Hill, their spirits wed</div> -<div class="i0">In that eternal, dreamless sleep,</div> -<div class="i0">Where souls their solemn bridals keep.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>DR. VANDORSEN AND THE YOUNG WIDOW.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY ANN E. PORTER.</p> - -<p>To assure my readers that I am telling them what is -truth, and not drawing upon the treasury of fancy for a -sketch, I will first relate to them in what manner I became -acquainted with the Doctor and the Widow. I was once a -teacher: yes, for seven years I held sway in the school-room, -and learned by severe discipline the art of self-government, -and to bear in secret many a sorrow of which the -cherished daughter in the domestic circle remains in blissful -ignorance. Whenever I see a young lady, at the close -of school-hours, turning with a weary step to her solitary -room in some boarding-house, my first impulse is to go and -ask her to share my own fireside, sit down at my table, -and forget for a while, in my little family circle, that she is -away from the loved ones of her own home.</p> - -<p>I shall never forget my first preparations for leaving -home. I was to go eight hundred miles,—a long journey in -the days of stages and canal-boats. My little purse grew -thin and lank under the unusual exertion. I had a trunk -and a large bandbox (the latter article I have since learned -to dispense with): in this was placed all the "varieties" of -my wardrobe, as Parson Milton would call them; or the -accessories to strengthen the arsenal, as Bonaparte termed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span> -the feminine requisites to the toilet. My little store of collarets, -ribbons, and cravats, my lace capes and fancy handkerchiefs -were all folded in one box, and placed inside the -larger one. They were few in number; but what girl of -eighteen does not cherish her own small hoard of treasures? -I was to go as far as Pittsburg in the company of a lady -and her brother, a boy of sixteen. Three days and nights we -were to travel by stage, stopping only for meals, and occasionally -an hour for rest, besides the intervals caused by -changing horses. Two strangers, young gentlemen from -Philadelphia, joined us at the latter city, and remained -with the party to Pittsburg. Nothing, perhaps, makes -people better acquainted with the disposition of their companions, -than the old-fashioned mode of coach-travelling; -the petty troubles and peculiar annoyances excite the -mirth of some, but elicit only the grumbling of others, so -that for days together we are entertained by the fun of -laughter-loving girls, and gallant young gentlemen, with -growling interludes from some gouty old man, or the groans -of an epicure, who talks only to condemn the dinner, and -curse the cooks.</p> - -<p>I had never spent a whole night out of my bed before, -and though the excitement kept me up at first, I found -myself so exhausted by the middle of the second night, -that it was with difficulty I could retain my seat.</p> - -<p>One of the passengers, perceiving my situation, and -alarmed by my almost deadly paleness, requested the -driver to stop, and ordered a cup of tea. This, and a -resting-place for my poor head, relieved me a little; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> -with what joy did we hail, the next day at evening, the -smoky city of Pittsburg.</p> - -<p>"Ladies, shall we have the pleasure of meeting all our -little party together in the parlour this evening?" said one -of the gentlemen. The next morning we were to separate, -taking three different routes. We therefore cheerfully acquiesced, -and Miss S. and myself repaired to our rooms to -dress. What was my astonishment to find my treasures -gone, and with them a valuable breastpin, the gift of my -grandfather, shortly before his death! I was weary, sick, -and sad; but at the earnest request of my companion, I -put on a black silk dress, and felt not a little refreshed by -my bath, and the privilege of using thoroughly the brush -and comb, which, denied me for two days and nights, had -given to my head, with its exuberance of hair, a most -moppish appearance on the outside, while the brain within -seemed to share the entanglement without.</p> - -<p>But the efforts of my companions could not chase away -the homesickness of the heart. The morning would find -me alone in the world. Sixty miles of my journey were -yet to be travelled: and, wearied in body and faint in -spirit, I longed to see my dear father, and be at home again -under his protection. I shrunk, too, from the duties before -me: they seemed more arduous and difficult as I approached -them; and with a sad feeling of my own incompetency and -the lack of personal charms, which might prepossess my -employers, I laid my head upon my pillow that night and -watered it with my tears. Sleep! blessed, blessed Sleep! -Thou dost take the burdens from the weary and fling them -into the waters of oblivion; the infant, in its guileless rest,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span> -is pillowed on thy lap, and the aged lean lovingly on thy -shoulder. Merciful was the great Father of all, that he -did permit thee to follow Adam from Paradise, and travel -with his children in this world of guilt,—thus are we permitted -to forget, for a while, at least, our sorrows and our -sins. Early the next morning I went on board a steamboat -for Wheeling, and though shrinking and timid, I still -found protection and kindness when needed; but when we -arrived, at midnight, in the village of P., and I found -myself alone in a large, desolate-looking room of the hotel, -all the former feeling of sadness came over me, and with -them an indefinable dread of the future.</p> - -<p>I must send word to the patrons of the school that I had -arrived: and fearful that their expectations would be disappointed, -I could not sleep. The next morning I despatched -a messenger, and two of the trustees called. They -were polite, but said little, excepting what related to -business; but when they left me, remarked, "We will procure -a more agreeable home for you than this." I thanked -them with my lips, but they little comprehended how -earnestly the heart craved for a home again. The day -passed, and I saw no one till the twilight shadows were -creeping into that lonely room, and with them also dim -visions of home and friends, bringing with them that sad -heart-longing which the young feel during their first absence -from home, when I was startled from my reverie by -a gentle knock at my door. I opened it, and an old lady -stood before me, so kind, so motherly in her appearance, -and so plainly yet tastefully dressed, that my heart clung -to her at first sight. If my Father in heaven had sent an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> -angel to me, I should certainly have chosen just such a face -and garb, in my present condition, rather than the white -robes and bright-winged cherubs of Raphael's glorious fancy.</p> - -<p>"Why, my dear child," said she, as if struck at once by -my girlish figure and pallid face, "you must have been -lonely here to-day, and you need a mother to nurse and -take care of you after your long journey. My name is -Warner, and I am going to take you home with me, if you -will go. My brother called this morning, and my husband -would have accompanied me, but he was very busy; and I -was so fearful that you would be homesick, that I thought -I would come and introduce myself."</p> - -<p>My heart bounded with delight, and I could hardly speak -for gratitude; and I said so little, and that in such a blundering -way, that I was afraid she would not know how -much relief she had brought me.</p> - -<p>"Come, my dear, get your bonnet," said she pleasantly, -"and I will send for your baggage."</p> - -<p>I obeyed, and in a few minutes we stopped at a large but -neat residence, almost hid in a profusion of shrubbery. -The climbing multiflora rose covered one side of the house, -and, with welcome intrusiveness, peeped into the chamber -windows, while a honeysuckle and woodbine threw their -mantle of green over the door, and mingled their blossoms -with those of a tall snowball tree, which had grown high, -and, clinging to the house, showered a white welcome upon -every corner. A few steps from the house, on the right -side, but in the same enclosure, was a small brick office;—on -the other side a cottage, shaded by two large beech trees, -children of the forest, spared by some merciful woodman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span> -when the land was cleared. Such was the outward appearance -of my new home—a word as to its inmates. My companion -ushered me into a small sitting-room, prettily furnished, -and occupied at the time by two persons,—one a -tall, white-haired old gentleman, with spectacles on nose, -reading the newspaper—the other Mrs. Travis, a young -widow, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Warner, who had returned -again to the home of her youth. She was sewing -as we entered, but, laying aside her work, rose to greet us. -Her countenance was plain, but a pair of sparkling black -eyes gave animation and expression to her features; and, as -I returned her salutation, I thought her welcome not quite -so cordial as her mother's. It seemed to express this—"Whether -you and I like each other will depend on circumstances." -But the old gentleman looked at me for an -instant over his spectacles; then, laying them aside with -his paper, rose, and taking my hand, welcomed me to the -West with a hearty greeting; then, placing a chair near to -his own, begged me to be seated. His whole countenance -was expressive of goodness; and, as I sat down by his side -in all the timidity of a girlish stranger, I felt, for the first -time since leaving home, a delicious sense of security and -peace. It seemed as if the wing of some guardian angel -was over me, and a refuge opened in time of sorrow.</p> - -<p>And here, <i>en passant</i>, I must add, those first impressions -never changed; and, from that hour till the day when that -blessed spirit was carried by angels to its own pure home -in heaven, I always found consolation in trouble, advice in -perplexity, and gentle reproof in error, by the side of the -good old man. How sweet was the fragrance of his daily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span> -life, and how precious the kiss he imprinted upon my -forehead, and the blessing he implored upon my head when -I bade him farewell! Oh! the hopeless darkness of atheism, -which draws the veil of oblivion between us and all further -intercourse with such spirits! No, no!—let us rather say -with St. Paul, "I <i>know</i> in whom I have believed;" and -with Job, "I <i>shall</i> live again."</p> - -<p>But my limits forbid any extended notice of the members -of the family, though the years I spent under that charmed -roof are marked in my life with a white stone. There I -emerged from the bashful, timid girl, into the more active, -energetic woman; and under the blessed influence of love I -trust I grew wiser and happier.</p> - -<p>When, at nine o'clock, the family Bible was opened, and -father</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Read a portion with judicious care,</div> -<div class="i0">And 'Let us worship God,' he said with solemn air;"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="in0">and all knelt at the family altar in prayer, my own heart -was full, and I was thankful that no eye could see my face. -Soon afterwards the old lady said, "You look tired, and -must retire; I will show you to your room." Then, leading -me through a small entry, she opened the door of a commodious -room, saying, as she did so, "This will be yours." -It was carpeted, a centre-table was in the middle of the -room, an open stove with its grate, ready at any chilly -hour for coal, and a nice, cosy-looking bed in one corner of -the apartment. The old lady lighted a candle, and bade -me good night. Did she, or did she not, think I was a cold-hearted -little thing, that I said good night in such a low, -tremulous tone? I know not; but this I do know, that, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span> -soon as she had left the room, I sat down, and, laying my -head on the table, burst into tears.</p> - -<p>They were tears of thankfulness and joy, and they refreshed -the heart, as a summer shower the parched earth.</p> - -<p>I seemed a child again, and, with my childhood's prayer -upon my lips, I dropped to sleep that night. I would love -to sit and write till night about my after-life there, but I -have limited myself to one little episode, and to that I will -proceed. I had been there some months; Elizabeth had -learned that we were so unlike that we could love, and -neither be enemies nor rivals. Her high, ambitious, buoyant -spirit had nothing to fear from the timid, yielding, sensitive -girl who was to be her companion. Not a single trait in -the character of each came in collision. One was self-reliant, -could keep her own secrets, extricate herself from -her own difficulties, feared none but God, cared little for -the opinion of others, loved deeply, hated cordially. The -other had an inordinate "love of approbation," lacked hope -and courage, but, supported by a stronger arm, could endure -the bitterest trial even to the end. The one was proud to -uphold, the other loved to trust.</p> - -<p>And thus we moved on, loved and loving, whereas, had -we resembled each other more closely, bitter heart-burnings -and jealousies might have been the result. One day we sat -together in the little sitting-room. We were reading "Deerbrook," -by Miss Martineau, and wondering that such want -of trust and faith should ever take place between sisters, -when the door-bell rang, and a young gentleman, a total -stranger to us, was ushered in. He was a tall young man, -with a fresh countenance, a somewhat diffident manner,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span> -and gray eyes, which had a downcast expression. It was -difficult for him to observe that simple rule of politeness, -"Look directly at the person to whom you speak." Mr. -Warner endeavoured to make him more at his ease by -casual remarks upon the weather, and other topics of the -day; but he elicited little besides "Yes, sir," "No, sir," "I -agree with you perfectly, sir," and suchlike replies. At -last he drew a card from his pocket, and handed it to Mr. -Warner, saying, "I have been in town some days, and am -looking out for an office. Learning that the one near your -house is unoccupied, I have made an early application."</p> - -<p>"I will think of it," said the old gentleman. "This is -Dr. Vandorsen, ladies, come to take up his residence in -our village." This somewhat awkward introduction over, -I took the opportunity to slip out of the room, just as they -commenced talking upon the terms of rent and other business -matters.</p> - -<p>"Well, now," said Elizabeth, as she came hastily into -my room, an hour afterwards; "what do you think of the -Doctor?"</p> - -<p>"Why, I haven't thought of him since I left the room; I -have been preparing my lesson in Butler's Analogy, and I -assure you it requires all the strength of my feeble brain to -grasp his arguments and make them clear to my class."</p> - -<p>"A truce to such work! I thought you had been studying -the young stranger's physiognomy, and were prepared -to give me an analysis of his character."</p> - -<p>"Let me see," I said; "I cannot give you his character, -but I believe his personal appearance I can remember; -cheeks like your rusty-coat apples, rusty brown with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span> -touch of red, foxy eyes, slick, <i>very</i> slick hair, as the Yankees -say, an inflexible spine, and in one respect only like St. -Paul."</p> - -<p>"Pray what is that?"</p> - -<p>"Brethren, I came unto you in much <i>weakness of speech</i>."</p> - -<p>Lizzy's eyes snapped, and she looked, for a moment, -almost angry. "Then," said she, "I really thought you -had some penetration of character, but I must be mistaken. -Did you not see the evidence of fine feelings beneath that -bashful exterior? And then he was so modest and unassuming; -why I no sooner heard his errand than my fancy -drew a beautiful picture in perspective. He seemed so -much like yourself,—you that we are beginning to love so -much, that I thought it would be love at first sight. Father -will let him have the office, and then here's the cottage: a -nice, snug place it would be for you, and we could have you -always with us, and a doctor handy to cure 'the ills to -which flesh is heir.'"</p> - -<p>"You have a vivid imagination, truly; but let me tell -you that you are right in supposing that I have very little -penetration of character. I have none; but sometimes, -though I cannot account for it, I have a strong aversion to a -person on the first meeting; and when it is so, I never overcome -it."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense," said Lizzy, "that is all imagination; a belief -without reason, but it cannot be so in this case."</p> - -<p>"We will leave this for the present," I said; "and I will -take more particular notice of the Doctor the next time. -If you like him, I have no doubt I shall also. But why so -disinterested? why not take the good Doctor yourself, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span> -then the office and cottage will follow as a life possession -for him?"</p> - -<p>"Why, don't you know, my dear child, he is not the -man for me? I should be the death of so amiable a personage -in two years. If I marry again, it must be a man -of boldness and spirit. I care not if he have the temper of -Bonaparte, if he have his courage and spirit."</p> - -<p>"And could you endure like Josephine? You forget the -broken vows and crushed hopes."</p> - -<p>A shade passed over her countenance a moment.</p> - -<p>"Let us not talk about marriage now," said she.</p> - -<p>"Agreed," I replied. "I must study, and bury all other -aspirations for the present in my school."</p> - -<p>The next day the Doctor took possession of the office, and -long rows of vials and boxes of bones usurped the place of -law books and deeds. The boy pounded medicines in the -morning, and the Doctor played on his flute at night.</p> - -<p>He was neighbourly, and very attentive to both the -young ladies, evidently studying to make no difference in -his attentions. To be sure, he talked most with myself, and -I noticed whenever an opportunity occurred, Lizzy would -direct the conversation to some subject in which I was -especially interested. Every Wednesday evening we went -to a lecture, and he was usually present to accompany the -family. The whole family seemed interested in him, and -good old Mr. Warner too, especially as he now spoke of his -intention to join the church. When that event did take -place, I found some excuse for staying at home. The more -I tried to overcome it, the stronger my aversion became. I -thought it must be groundless—the rest of the family had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span> -more experience and wisdom than myself,—why then should -I feel such an unaccountable prejudice towards an innocent -young gentleman who had done me no harm?</p> - -<p>I determined to overcome it, and most severely did I -blame myself for suspecting that any other than holy motives -led to this public act of consecration. The next evening, -when he proposed to me that we should take a short -walk, I cheerfully consented. As we passed a large flouring -mill, he said, "This, I believe, is Mr. Warner's?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," I replied.</p> - -<p>"It seems, to be a very valuable one."</p> - -<p>"One of the most so in the region. The old gentleman -came to this country many years ago. Like Abraham, he -went forth, not knowing whither he went, and like him has -he been prospered. He has flocks and herds, houses and -lands, and, what shall I call <i>those</i>?" I asked, as a drove of -swine marked by him came grunting along with their snub -noses in the gutter.</p> - -<p>"Oh, that is but one species of property," he remarked, -"and has its value. The good old man seems to be very -worthy."</p> - -<p>"Worthy!" I repeated to myself—what harm in that, -and yet I didn't like the question, or rather the tone of the -remark.</p> - -<p>"He is one of the excellent of the earth—belonging to -that species of salt which never loses its savour."</p> - -<p>"They seem to be a very affectionate family, no wonder -they feel almost idolatry for their interesting daughter. -Did you know her husband?"</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span></p> - -<p>"Not at all," I replied, and by my silence indicated that -I had no wish to continue this conversation.</p> - -<p>The very next morning I had occasion to go into the -private room or study of the old gentleman, to deposit in -his hands a sum of money, the proceeds of my labour, and -for which he gave me good interest and security. I found -the old lady there, and as I opened the door she remarked, -"Oh yes, husband, lend him freely if he needs; he is -young, and a hundred dollars may aid him greatly now; I -have perfect confidence in the Doctor."</p> - -<p>I bit my lip, for I found myself inclined to smile, and -did not wish to be observed. But the old gentleman remarked -the expression of my face, and looking over his -spectacles archly said, "Ay, ay, my little schoolma'am! -and so you don't think so highly of the Doctor as the rest -of us, or do you sail under false colours just now?"</p> - -<p>"I have no cause for that," I replied, "and if I had, -your penetration would find it out; so honesty is really my -best policy, for no other reason than because I can have no -other."</p> - -<p>"Well, time works wonders; I only desire that you -settle among us, and I must say, prudence would hardly -advise the Doctor at present; so take good care of yourself -and all will come right," so giving me my receipt and a -kiss on the cheek, I left the good couple in the act of -counting out a hundred dollars for the Doctor. Weeks -passed, and Lizzy, delighted at every new patient the Doctor -had and at the increasing reputation she thought he -was gaining, always had some interesting fact to relate to -me when I returned from school at night. At one time he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span> -had refused all pay from a sick old woman, one of Lizzy's -protégés, whom he visited daily. At another time, he had -spent half a day in the garden with her good mother, -budding, trimming, and tying up her bushes; again, he had -gone into the field and mowed for three hours, to help her -father, when there was a prospect of rain. "And wouldn't -he make a good husband, Sissy dear?" she said.</p> - -<p>"Yes, love, if he was only a little more fiery, like -Bonaparte, and had the courage and spirit of a hero."</p> - -<p>Lizzy looked annoyed. In the mean time, common report -had, to my great vexation, coupled the Doctor's name with -mine; but to attempt to stem the current of village gossip -is like using Dame Partington's broom to sweep the sea. -Firmness and patience are the only salves for such annoyances. -Happily, a vacation of a week occurred, and I was -to spend it with one of my pupils.</p> - -<p>On my return, it was a pleasant summer's evening, the -doors were open, and the same vines and trees which the -year before looked so inviting to the little homesick girl, -were again loaded with blossoms. The old folks sat just -inside the door enjoying the mild air, and Lizzy on an ottoman, -which stood on the broad step. The Doctor, with a -hideous black patch on the side of his forehead, and one -arm in a sling, stood leaning in a picturesque attitude by -her side. Lizzy's eyes looked milder than I ever saw them -before, and when she turned them upon the Doctor, there -was an expression of interest and sympathy which I had -never noticed before. "The victory is won," I said to myself, -and then, like a shadow on my heart, came those first -impressions, which no after acquaintance had removed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span> -Mr. Warner came forward to welcome me, and wait upon -me into the house, saying to the Doctor, with a smile, -"We will excuse all want of gallantry this evening."</p> - -<p>"And excuse me, also," he replied, "I will do myself -the pleasure of calling on Miss Porter to-morrow," he said.</p> - -<p>"What in the name of wonder has happened?" I said to -Lizzy, who had flown to my side as the Doctor left.</p> - -<p>"Oh, it is quite a story, I assure you; but I ought not -to tell you, for I shall spoil it for the Doctor to-morrow. -He tells it so well; you'll find that your stammering St. -Paul can speak with the tongue of an angel sometimes."</p> - -<p>But my curiosity would not allow me to wait: and in -truth, neither would Lizzy's enthusiasm permit her to do -the same; so she gave the outlines, promising that the -Doctor should fill them up in the morning.</p> - -<p>"Would you believe it," she commenced, "the Doctor -has been robbed and shot at, and"—</p> - -<p>"Shot at, and then robbed, Sis," said the old gentleman.</p> - -<p>"There, I knew I should spoil the story."</p> - -<p>"Never mind, do go on," I said, "where, pray?"</p> - -<p>"Why, on the turnpike road to McConnelsville; don't -you remember a piece of woods there?"</p> - -<p>"Why, yes; but honest black Gassoway's house is near -about half way as you pass the woods. I came from there -on horseback, at eight o'clock in the evening, only two -weeks ago."</p> - -<p>"You must never go there again, my child," said Mrs. -Warner, in a sort of sepulchral tone; "it may be the death -of you."</p> - -<p>"Just as the Doctor came to where the woods commenced,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span> -two horrible-looking ruffians with masks came -out of the woods, and while one seized the horse's bridle, -the other pointed a pistol to his heart, and demanded his -money. He had two hundred dollars by him, which he -was then taking to a man he owed. It was all the spare -money he had; you know the Doctor is just commencing -his profession, and he does not wish to urge his debtors too -hard at present. But he was too brave to yield at once; -he knocked the pistol aside, but it went off, grazing his -arm; but after a hard fight with his opponents, he found -they were too much for him, and after resigning all his -money he came back home. Isn't it too bad, so industrious -and prudent as he seems to be?"</p> - -<p>"It is a hard case surely; but for the life of me I cannot -imagine how robbers dared come so near the town; the -pistol-shot must have been heard at Gassoway's."</p> - -<p>"No, it was midnight, and they were sound asleep, probably. -I wish they had heard and gone in pursuit."</p> - -<p>The next day was Sunday, and, as usual, I went to -meeting in the evening. Lizzy complained of slight indisposition, -and did not accompany us; but when we returned -we found the two invalids together, and one at least looking -very agreeable, though Lizzy's face expressed embarrassment -whenever she caught my eye.</p> - -<p>The next morning the good old lady called me into her -room a little while before the hour of school, and, bidding -me sit down by her side, said affectionately, but seriously,</p> - -<p>"My child, do you love the Doctor?"</p> - -<p>Though not naturally mirthful, I could scarce refrain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span> -from laughing in the old lady's face. Respect forbade, and -I answered, with all the seriousness I could command,</p> - -<p>"Dear Aunty, because you and Lizzy wished it, I have -tried hard to do so; but I do not love him, and I am convinced -I never can."</p> - -<p>The good woman looked relieved, and said, "I am glad -it is so; you are far away from home and friends, and I -should be sorry to have you in trouble while with us. -Come to me at all times with your sorrows, and I will try -and be a mother to you."</p> - -<p>The smiles were now exchanged for tears. What in the -world does any one wish to cry for, when they are grateful? -But some seem to have that unfortunate propensity.</p> - -<p>"I was only to add," said the old lady, "that the Doctor -loves Lizzy; and I feared," she said, "it might make one -heart sad. We fancied you felt more interest in the Doctor -than you are willing to acknowledge."</p> - -<p>"I now give you a solemn promise," I said, and it was -sealed with a kiss, "that I will always speak the truth to -yourself."</p> - -<p>This conversation only gave me new cause for regret. I -could not see my dear Lizzy married to the Doctor, so long -as I was unable to shake off my own dislike to him, and -my own mouth was fettered by the suspicions concerning -myself. For two days I was pondering in my own mind -what could be done; and learning that Mr. Warner would -permit no engagement to take place at present, concluded -that time and patience would bring all right.</p> - -<p>Thus I mused, with my book open, but my mind wandering, -when Lizzy burst into the room.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span></p> - -<p>"Heigh-ho! my little hypocrite, you never can keep a -secret, you say. Is that the truth?" And she held a card -towards me.</p> - -<p>"I never had any secrets to keep, Lizzy, so I don't know -how much strength I possess."</p> - -<p>"Well here, then—'Joseph Dushey, St. Louis, Mo.'"</p> - -<p>"Upon my word, Lizzy, I know no more about this -gentleman than yourself. Does he wish to see me?"</p> - -<p>"That he does, and is waiting your ladyship's presence -in the parlour."</p> - -<p>"Some business relating to the school," I said. "I must -not keep him waiting."</p> - -<p>So to the parlour I went, and soon found myself in the -presence of a gentleman upon whom nature had put her -unmistakeable sign of nobility. His address and manner -were those of one accustomed to refined society, and his -ease and suavity quite overcame my own timidity. But, -after a few minutes' general conversation, it was his turn -to become embarrassed; and, after apologizing for interference -in my private affairs, he said that, hearing that an -engagement of marriage existed between myself and Dr. -Vandorsen, he had felt it his duty to expose the character -of the Doctor. It was painful, but it seemed to him an act -of justice and mercy. He then related the history of this -adventurer—a reckless swindler, ingratiating himself into -the favour of others, and then repaying kindness with black -ingratitude. "I have often," he said, "from regard to his -father, helped him to money. He is owing me now; and, -learning that I was in the vicinity, he invented the account -of the sham robbery, which he says took place on Saturday<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span> -evening." He then placed in my hands the papers containing -proofs of that which he had asserted, and again, with -much delicacy, apologized for his intrusion.</p> - -<p>I thanked him most sincerely for what he had done, and -assuring him that no such engagement existed between us, -yet these papers were valuable as guarding against future -trouble for others.</p> - -<p>He allowed me to retain them. On going to my room I -sat down and examined them carefully, and blessed God -that I had it in my power to save Lizzy from a dreadful -sacrifice. I laid them aside, determined to place them in -the hands of Mr. Warner in the morning.</p> - -<p>When morning came, the Doctor's office was found deserted; -the key hung upon the outside, his valuables were -removed, and from that time to this I have heard nothing -from Dr. Vandorsen, nor has my good mother Warner or -her family. Neither have the two hundred dollars, which -they at different times loaned him, ever been returned.</p> - -<p>Lizzy is most delightfully situated, and I know of but -one drawback to her perfect happiness, viz., that her husband -is one of the most amiable of men, never allowing his -temper to conquer his reason, and never likely to allow -ambition to overpower the deep affection he bears his wife.</p> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>A CENOTAPH.<br /> -<span class="small">AUGUST, 1776.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY ERASTUS W. ELLSWORTH.</p> - - -<blockquote> -<p>"It was a notion of the ancients, that if one perished at sea, or where his body could not be found, -the only way to procure repose for him was to build an empty tomb, and by certain rites and invocations, -call his spirit to the habitation prepared for it."</p> - -<p class="sigright"><span class="smcap">Eschenburg.</span></p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="p1t center in0 nobreak">I.<br /> -1.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The memory of Nathan Hale,</div> -<div class="i2">Who, in the days of strife,</div> -<div class="i0">For freedom of our native land,</div> -<div class="i2">Laid down his noble life.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Lord Howe, Cornwallis, Percy earl</div> -<div class="i2">Were come in wide array,</div> -<div class="i0">And from Long Island to New York</div> -<div class="i2">Had pushed our guns away.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Our Father looked across the Sound,</div> -<div class="i2">Disaster groaned behind,</div> -<div class="i0">And many dubious, anxious thoughts</div> -<div class="i2">Were labouring in his mind.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Knowlton," said he, "I need a man,</div> -<div class="i2">Such as is hard to meet,</div> -<div class="i0">A trusty, brave, and loyal man,</div> -<div class="i2">And skilful in deceit.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"The British, now in Brooklyn lodged,</div> -<div class="i2">May divers plans pursue:</div> -<div class="i0">Find me a man to go and spy</div> -<div class="i2">What Howe intends to do."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Said Knowlton, "Sir, I make no doubt</div> -<div class="i2">Many apt men have we."</div> -<div class="i0">He went. At nightfall he returned</div> -<div class="i2">With Hale in company.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p1t center in0 nobreak">2.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Young friend," said Washington to Hale,</div> -<div class="i2">"It much imports to know</div> -<div class="i0">What mischief Howe is brooding on;</div> -<div class="i2">Which way intends to go.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"But though you might, with help of Grace,</div> -<div class="i2">Unmask his schemes of ill,</div> -<div class="i0">I will not risk your generous blood</div> -<div class="i2">Without your perfect will."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Grave Sir," said Hale, "I left my home,</div> -<div class="i2">Not for the love of strife,</div> -<div class="i0">But for my country's cause resolved,</div> -<div class="i2">Knowing I risked my life.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Between my duty and my will,</div> -<div class="i2">In service light or sore,</div> -<div class="i0">It is not now for me to choose,</div> -<div class="i2">For that was done before.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Let not your Excellency poise</div> -<div class="i2">What may to me ensue;</div> -<div class="i0">But weigh the service to be done,</div> -<div class="i2">And judge my power to do."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Well said; then briefly thus:—Put on</div> -<div class="i2">Some other self-disguise—</div> -<div class="i0">And by to-morrow morning be</div> -<div class="i2">Among our enemies.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Go safely curious how you will,</div> -<div class="i2">And spy whate'er you may,</div> -<div class="i0">Of how their troops have borne the bruise</div> -<div class="i2">They gave us yesterday.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"And deeper else—our chief concern,</div> -<div class="i2">And study at this hour—</div> -<div class="i0">Find if their guns are hither aimed;</div> -<div class="i2">Or, with divided power,</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Cleft from the rearward of their force,</div> -<div class="i2">While we stand here attent;</div> -<div class="i0">Or farther south, or farther north,</div> -<div class="i2">They mean to make descent.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Brooklyn to them is vantage-ground.</div> -<div class="i2">Find what you can. To know</div> -<div class="i0">The mischief in a foeman's thought</div> -<div class="i2">Is half to foil a foe.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"The moon goes down"—"By nine," said Hale.</div> -<div class="i2">Said Knowlton: "Nay, at ten."</div> -<div class="i0">"Can you be off so soon as that?"</div> -<div class="i2">"I hardly think by then:</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Nor would—for let me plead that I,</div> -<div class="i2">Herein, may yield my breath;</div> -<div class="i0">And mine affairs I would devise</div> -<div class="i2">As if before my death.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"God knows what hearts may crack for this.</div> -<div class="i2">But failure, or no fail,</div> -<div class="i0">To-morrow morning I'll be there,</div> -<div class="i2">As I am Nathan Hale."</div> -</div - -><div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Bravely, my boy! Such soul as this</div> -<div class="i2">Is better than a host.</div> -<div class="i0">To dare is little, if to dare</div> -<div class="i2">Unmindful of the cost."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p1t center in0 nobreak">3.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The night was broadly overcast,</div> -<div class="i2">And the scant moon and stars,</div> -<div class="i0">From the dim dungeons of the clouds,</div> -<div class="i2">Looked through their iron bars.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"My worthy lad," said Washington,</div> -<div class="i2">"We seek without despair,</div> -<div class="i0">Although we find, in all yon arch,</div> -<div class="i2">No sign of morning there."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"And know whose gracious hand it is</div> -<div class="i2">That times the darkest sky,"</div> -<div class="i0">Said Hale. "Adieu!" said Washington,</div> -<div class="i2">"God keep you,—go,—good-bye!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p1t center in0 nobreak">II.<br /> -1.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The flitting Hours, with golden brands</div> -<div class="i2">Once more adorned with flame,</div> -<div class="i0">Beheld our land in busy act,</div> -<div class="i2">Where war was all the game.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Out of his cups of deep carouse,</div> -<div class="i2">That reeled till morning shine,</div> -<div class="i0">The Provost of the Lion camp</div> -<div class="i2">Came forth the tented line.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">An ugly man,—a tiger soul,</div> -<div class="i2">Lodged in a human house,—</div> -<div class="i0">With whiskey fuming from his hide,</div> -<div class="i2">And hair about his brows.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And Hale had hid his skiff, and now</div> -<div class="i2">Was coming by the shore,</div> -<div class="i0">Thinking of many serious things</div> -<div class="i2">He never thought before.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">He mused of all the hard assays</div> -<div class="i2">Of this our mortal state;</div> -<div class="i0">The bitter bruise, and bloody blows</div> -<div class="i2">Of Virtue matched with Fate.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">He heard the larks and robins sing,</div> -<div class="i2">And tears came in his eyes,</div> -<div class="i0">To think how man, and man alone,</div> -<div class="i2">Was cast from Paradise.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p1t center in0 nobreak">2.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Well Hodge, how's turnips? What's in this?"</div> -<div class="i2">"Now who be you?" said Hale,</div> -<div class="i0">"I aint no Hodge,—taint turnips,—stop,—</div> -<div class="i2">Let go,—this here's for sale."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Powder and grog! be quiet, lad.</div> -<div class="i2">Tobacco! by my soul!</div> -<div class="i0">Rebel, we've come to take the land,—</div> -<div class="i2">Hands off!—I seize the whole."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The Provost wheeled towards the camp.</div> -<div class="i2">Hale followed with a cry:</div> -<div class="i0">"Give me my pack—now—come—you sir!"</div> -<div class="i2">"Clod-shoes, get home!—not I."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">But epaulettes were on the road.—</div> -<div class="i2">The trick was getting worse.</div> -<div class="i0">The Provost dumped the pack aside,</div> -<div class="i2">With a substantial curse.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Wa'al, mister, that's the han'some thing!</div> -<div class="i2">That are tobaker's prime.</div> -<div class="i0">I knowed you didn't mean to grab,—</div> -<div class="i2">I knowed it all the time.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"I'm goin' to peddle, up to camp,</div> -<div class="i2">And if you only would</div> -<div class="i0">Go snacks, and help me sell, you might.</div> -<div class="i2">Come, I should say you could."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Yorky, pick up your pack, hook on,</div> -<div class="i2">Hook on, we'll make it even."</div> -<div class="i0">The lines were passed, the countersign,—</div> -<div class="i2">"Whither away,"—was given.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"I see," said Hale, within himself,</div> -<div class="i2">"This man's internal shape,—</div> -<div class="i0">The Devil can do a gracious turn,</div> -<div class="i2">To shy a graceless scrape."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p1t center in0 nobreak">3.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Gay was the camp with liveried men;</div> -<div class="i2">Some trimmed the gun and blade,</div> -<div class="i0">Some chatted in the morning sun,</div> -<div class="i2">Some slept along the shade.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And some bore out the soldier dead</div> -<div class="i2">On his unfollowed bier—</div> -<div class="i0">The soldier dead, the hapless dead,</div> -<div class="i2">Who died without a tear.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">So lately wept from England's shore,</div> -<div class="i2">And winged with prayers afar,</div> -<div class="i0">To feel the piercing thunder-shock,</div> -<div class="i2">Gored by the horns of War.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p1t center in0 nobreak">4.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Cried Hale, "Who buys? who buys? who buys?</div> -<div class="i2">Hearts! Boys! My lads! Hooraw!</div> -<div class="i0">Thrippence a junk, Britannia rule—</div> -<div class="i2">Don't any of you chaw?"</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And all the while his wily eye</div> -<div class="i2">Was taking curious notes</div> -<div class="i0">Of men, and arms, and sheeted carts,</div> -<div class="i2">And guns with stoppered throats.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Boys, what you goin' to doin' on?</div> -<div class="i2">Hello!—this way that beer.</div> -<div class="i0">You goin' to captivate New York?</div> -<div class="i2">Pine-shillin' piece—look here—"</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Sing us a song." "'Bout what?" said Hale.</div> -<div class="i2">"Sing us 'All in the Doons'—</div> -<div class="i0">'Britannia Rule'—'God save the King'"—</div> -<div class="i2">Said Hale, "Don't know the tunes."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Cornwallis now came walking by,—</div> -<div class="i2">"The Capting, hey?" "It is."</div> -<div class="i0">Hale folded up an ample slice:</div> -<div class="i2">"D'ye s'pose he'd 'xcept of this?"</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Mad with the thought, to see the clown</div> -<div class="i2">Break his own pate with fun,</div> -<div class="i0">"Do it," said they. Said Hale, "I will."</div> -<div class="i2">"Jerry's respects"—'twas done.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And back he came with open grin;</div> -<div class="i2">"Took it like ile!" said he.</div> -<div class="i0">"I swow! I done the handsome thing—</div> -<div class="i2">He done it, too, to me."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p1t center in0 nobreak">III.<br /> -1.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Sins are like waters in a gap;</div> -<div class="i2">Like flames to leap a check;</div> -<div class="i0">If cable Conscience crack a strand,</div> -<div class="i2">A man may go to wreck.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Sins never shut the doors of hearts</div> -<div class="i2">That give good cheer to sin,</div> -<div class="i0">But always leave them open wide,</div> -<div class="i2">For others to come in.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Disdaining ours, for England's camp,</div> -<div class="i2">There lurked a man about,</div> -<div class="i0">Who, flushed with shame and rage of heart,</div> -<div class="i2">Like Judas, had gone out.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">He left us, and he swore revenge,</div> -<div class="i2">And vengeance did not fail.</div> -<div class="i0">The courteous fiend, who led his steps,</div> -<div class="i2">Conducted him to Hale—</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">His kinsman—one whose generous hand,</div> -<div class="i2">Impelled by bold desire,</div> -<div class="i0">Had saved him once, and still endured</div> -<div class="i2">The seal of it in fire.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">He met him coming from the camp;</div> -<div class="i2">He saw—he knew the hand—</div> -<div class="i0">He saw the whole—and in the road</div> -<div class="i2">He made a sudden stand.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Hum! ha!—It's Captain Hale, I think.</div> -<div class="i2">Nathan, how do you do?</div> -<div class="i0">Sorry I am to see you here—</div> -<div class="i2">Sorry I am for you."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Off from the sudden heart of Hale</div> -<div class="i2">All his disguises fell:</div> -<div class="i0">"Cousin! good God!—go back with me.</div> -<div class="i2">And all shall yet be well."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"It cannot be. You came to dare,</div> -<div class="i2">And you must take the rod."</div> -<div class="i0">Said Hale, "This hand, at Judgment day,</div> -<div class="i2">Will fan the wrath of God."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Speak not of God," the traitor said;</div> -<div class="i2">"A good French faith have I—</div> -<div class="i0">'No man hath seen Him,' Scripture saith,</div> -<div class="i2">And 'all is vanity.'"</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Hale, finding how the scoundrel feared</div> -<div class="i2">Nor God's nor man's award,</div> -<div class="i0">Looked for a handy stick or stone,</div> -<div class="i2">To quicken his regard.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">But, tiger-soon, the renegade</div> -<div class="i2">Had gripped his arms around:</div> -<div class="i0">"Ah, ha!—yes, yes—help! help!" he cried,</div> -<div class="i2">And crushed him to the ground.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p1t center in0 nobreak">2.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Fettered on straw, with soldier guards,</div> -<div class="i2">The tent-lamp trembling low,</div> -<div class="i0">The morrow was his day of doom,</div> -<div class="i2">That night a night of woe.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And half the night the gallows sound</div> -<div class="i2">Of hammers filled his ears,</div> -<div class="i0">Like strokes upon a passing-bell,</div> -<div class="i2">Telling his numbered years.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">His numbered years—alas! how brief!</div> -<div class="i2">And Memory searched them back,</div> -<div class="i0">Like one who searches, with a light,</div> -<div class="i2">Upon a midnight track.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The fields, the woods, the humming school,</div> -<div class="i2">The idly-pondered lore,</div> -<div class="i0">And the fair-fingered girl that shared</div> -<div class="i2">His dinner at the door;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">His room, beneath the homestead eaves,</div> -<div class="i2">Wherein he laid his head;</div> -<div class="i0">His mother, come to take the light,</div> -<div class="i2">And see him warm in bed.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">These, and their like, distinct and bright,</div> -<div class="i2">Came back, and fired his brain</div> -<div class="i0">With visions, all whose sweetness now</div> -<div class="i2">Was but exalted pain.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p1t center in0 nobreak">IV.<br /> -1.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Ere silence droops her fluttering wing,</div> -<div class="i2">The pang may all be past;</div> -<div class="i0">And oft, of good men's latter hours,</div> -<div class="i2">The easiest is their last.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The morn was up, the flickering morn</div> -<div class="i2">Of summer, towards the fall.</div> -<div class="i0">"Bravely is all," the guardsman said;</div> -<div class="i2">Said Hale, "God's grace is all."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And now the Provost-Marshal came</div> -<div class="i2">With soldiers—all was ripe;</div> -<div class="i0">But out of Hale's tobacco, first,</div> -<div class="i2">He filled and smoked a pipe.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Forth passed the man, through all disguise,</div> -<div class="i2">With look so sweet and high;</div> -<div class="i0">He showed no sort of dread, at all,</div> -<div class="i2">Of what it was to die.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Come to the cart, whose doleful planks</div> -<div class="i2">Beneath his feet did creak,</div> -<div class="i0">He bowed, and looked about, and stood</div> -<div class="i2">In attitude to speak.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Holloa! hoa! drummer, bring your drum,</div> -<div class="i2">Play Yankee Doodle here—</div> -<div class="i0">Play, while we crack the rebel's neck."</div> -<div class="i2">Earl Percy then drew near:</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Provost," said he, "I shame at this.</div> -<div class="i2">Let the lad have his say,</div> -<div class="i0">Or you shall find who rules the camp;"</div> -<div class="i2">And so he walked away.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p1t center in0 nobreak">2.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Soldiers," said Hale, "you see a man</div> -<div class="i2">Whom Death must have and keep;</div> -<div class="i0">And things there are, if I should think,</div> -<div class="i2">I could not help but weep.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"But since in darkness, evermore,</div> -<div class="i2">God's providences hide,</div> -<div class="i0">The bravely good, in every age,</div> -<div class="i2">By faith have bravely died.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"That man who scorns his present case,</div> -<div class="i2">For glorious things to be,</div> -<div class="i0">I hold that in his scorn he shows</div> -<div class="i2">His soul's nobility.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Though George the Third completely scourge</div> -<div class="i2">Our groaning lives away,</div> -<div class="i0">It cannot, shall not be in vain</div> -<div class="i2">That I stand here to-day.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Oh take the wings of noble thought!</div> -<div class="i2">Run out the shapes of Time,</div> -<div class="i0">To where these clouds shall lift, nor leave</div> -<div class="i2">A stain upon the clime.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Behold the crown of ages gone,</div> -<div class="i2">Sublime and self-possessed;</div> -<div class="i0">In empire of the floods and shores</div> -<div class="i2">None so completely blest.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"This land shall come to vast estate,</div> -<div class="i2">In freedom vastly grow,</div> -<div class="i0">And I shall have a name to live,</div> -<div class="i2">Who helped to build it so.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Ye patriots, true and sorely tried,</div> -<div class="i2">When the dark days assail,</div> -<div class="i0">I seem to see what tears ye shed,</div> -<div class="i2">At thought of Nathan Hale.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Where is that man among ye all,</div> -<div class="i2">Who come to see me die,</div> -<div class="i0">That would not glory in his soul,</div> -<div class="i2">If he had done as I?</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Judge, then, how I have wrecked my life.</div> -<div class="i2">And in what cause begun.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span> -<div class="i0">I sorrow but in one regret,</div> -<div class="i2">That I can lose but one.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"In Thee, O Christ! I now repose—</div> -<div class="i2">Thou art my All to me;</div> -<div class="i0">And unto Thee, thou Triune God—</div> -<div class="i2">Oh make my country free!"</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Then turning to a guard, who wept</div> -<div class="i2">Like sudden April rain,</div> -<div class="i0">And scattered from his generous eyes</div> -<div class="i2">The drops of holy pain.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Unto your honest tears I trust</div> -<div class="i2">These letters to convey."</div> -<div class="i0">Then, to the Provost-Marshal, Hale</div> -<div class="i2">Did mildly turn, and say:</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Before from underneath my feet</div> -<div class="i2">The fatal cart is gone,</div> -<div class="i0">I fain would hear the chaplain pray;</div> -<div class="i2">Sir Provost have you none?"</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">As when a dreadful lion roams</div> -<div class="i2">The torrid sands, and sees</div> -<div class="i0">A fawn among the valleys drink,</div> -<div class="i2">Beneath the tuneful trees;</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">If, 'chance, he sees the tender hind</div> -<div class="i2">Just move behind an oak,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span> -<div class="i0">He snaps his teeth, and snaps his tail,</div> -<div class="i2">And makes the desert smoke.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">So, when the Provost witnessed Hale</div> -<div class="i2">To softer hands convey</div> -<div class="i0">His parting love, and heard him ask</div> -<div class="i2">To hear the chaplain pray,</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">He jumped like mad, he danced about,</div> -<div class="i2">Did dance, and roar, and swear—</div> -<div class="i0">The furies in his furnace eyes,</div> -<div class="i2">And in his rampant hair.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Dog of a thief! ere you shall have</div> -<div class="i2">Priest, book, or passing-bell,</div> -<div class="i0">Your rebel hide shall rot in air,</div> -<div class="i2">Your soul shall roast in hell!"</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"God's will be done!" said Nathan Hale:</div> -<div class="i2">"Farewell to life and light!"</div> -<div class="i0">They pulled the cloth about his eyes,</div> -<div class="i2">And the slack cord was tight.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p1t center in0 nobreak">V.<br /> -1.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Once more the rack, along the Sound,</div> -<div class="i2">Curled to the mounting sun,</div> -<div class="i0">That kissed, with mercy's beams, a world</div> -<div class="i2">Where such strange things are done.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Along our lines the sentry walked;</div> -<div class="i2">The dew was on his hair;</div> -<div class="i0">He felt the night in every limb,</div> -<div class="i2">But kept his station there;</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And watched the shimmering spires, and saw</div> -<div class="i2">The swallows slide away;</div> -<div class="i0">When, o'er the fields, there came a man,</div> -<div class="i2">Rough, and in rough array.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Holla, you Yankee scout!" said he,</div> -<div class="i2">"They've caught your Captain Hale,</div> -<div class="i0">And choked him for a traitor spy,</div> -<div class="i2">Dead as a dead door-nail.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Run—use your rebel soldier legs—</div> -<div class="i2">Tell General Washington.</div> -<div class="i0">Don't wait—you'll be promoted for't—</div> -<div class="i2">I'll stand and hold your gun."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Out spake the guard—"You British crow,</div> -<div class="i2">Curse on your croaking head!</div> -<div class="i0">Move off, or else, I swear, you'll get</div> -<div class="i2">The cartridge and the lead."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="p1t center in0 nobreak">2.</p> - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Full of his news, the sentry soon</div> -<div class="i2">To Knowlton told the same.</div> -<div class="i0">Knowlton, with tears in either eye,</div> -<div class="i2">To the head-quarters came,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And told to General Washington</div> -<div class="i2">Poor Hale's unhappy case.</div> -<div class="i0">Nought answered he, but bowed awhile,</div> -<div class="i2">With hands upon his face.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Then rising, steadfast and serene,</div> -<div class="i2">The same great master still—</div> -<div class="i0">Curbing a noble sorrow down</div> -<div class="i2">With a more noble will—</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Bring me," said he, "my writing-desk,</div> -<div class="i2">And maps last night begun;</div> -<div class="i0">Send hither Putnam, Lee, and Greene,</div> -<div class="i2">For much is to be done."</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">So perished Nathan Hale. God grant</div> -<div class="i2">Us not to die as he;</div> -<div class="i0">But, for the glorious Stripes and Stars,</div> -<div class="i2">Such iron loyalty.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<hr class="style1" /> - - -<blockquote> -<p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>—Nathan Hale was a native of the town of Coventry, in Connecticut; -and graduated at Yale College, in 1773. He entered the army of the -Revolution at an early period, as a captain in a light infantry regiment, -under command of Colonel Knowlton. After the defeat of the 27th August, -1776, and the retreat of the Americans from Long Island, Washington became -exceedingly desirous to gain some information respecting the future -operations of the enemy, and applied to Colonel Knowlton, through whom -Hale was introduced, and volunteered his services.</p> - -<p>He disguised himself, crossed to Long Island, procured admission to the -British camp, obtained the information desired, and was about leaving the -Island, when a refugee and a relative recognised, and betrayed him.</p> - -<p>The case was clear. Hale confessed; and Sir William Howe ordered him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span> -hung the next morning. He suffered like a patriot and a Christian. "I -lament," said he, "that I have but one life to lose for my country." The -provost-marshal, who superintended the execution, was a savage-hearted man, -and refused him the attendance of a clergyman, and the use of a Bible, -and destroyed letters which he had written to his mother, and other friends, -making the remark, that "the rebels should not know that they had a man -in their army who could die with so much firmness."</p> - -<p>An aged physician, recently deceased, was accustomed to relate an anecdote -that is worthy of preservation. The Doctor, when a small boy, -attended a school taught by Hale in the town of East Windsor, Connecticut. -One day Hale was standing at his desk, in a deep study, when certain wide-awake -boys began to take advantage of his inattention.</p> - -<p>The narrator thereupon went softly to his side, touched him, and pointed -to the scene of mischief. Hale, without turning his head, dropped a look<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">25</a> -upon the little informer—a mild look, but full of rebuke,—"Go back to -your seat," said he. The boy slunk away, and neither misunderstood nor -forgot this rebuke of the ungenerous and disloyal, from his true-hearted -teacher; and associated as the incident became with the subsequent fate of -Hale, it made a deep and affecting impression upon his memory.</p> -</blockquote> - - -<div class="footnote"> -<p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25">25</a> The Doctor described Hale as having had remarkably fine and expressive blue -eyes.</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>THE DREAMER.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MARY E. HEWITT.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Last night he kissed me,—kissed me in my dream!</div> -<div class="i2">He unto whom I with pure flame aspire,—</div> -<div class="i0">His eyes poured down on mine love's kindling beam,—</div> -<div class="i2">Through all my being ran the immortal fire,</div> -<div class="i2">I felt cold doubt within my breast expire,—</div> -<div class="i0">I felt his clasp, as gently he enwound me;</div> -<div class="i0">I felt his heart beat, as he closer bound me;</div> -<div class="i2">He kissed me! measure of my soul's desire;</div> -<div class="i0">He kissed my down-drooped eyelids,—kissed my brow;</div> -<div class="i2">Felt he no thrill, my well beloved one,</div> -<div class="i0">While passed the vision that enchains me now?</div> -<div class="i2">Ah, no! the ecstasy was mine alone;</div> -<div class="i0">And, while the memory on my spirit lies,</div> -<div class="i0">I fear, lest he should read my dream within my eyes.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter newpage"> - <img src="images/i_244a.jpg" alt="Falls" /> - <div class="caption"> - <span class="xsmall">C. Schuessele del. Drawn by Cap<sup>t.</sup> S. Eastman. Chromolith of P. S. Duval Phil.</span><br /> - <span class="vspace"> </span><br /> - FALLS OF S<sup>T.</sup> ANTHONY - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="style1" /> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>WHITE MOON AND FIERY MAN.<br /> -<span class="small">A LEGEND OF THE FALLS OF ST. ANTHONY.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.</p> - -<p class="p2t center in0 nobreak">CHAPTER I.</p> - -<p>The glowing noonday's sun was resting over the rocks -that lay and the waters that dashed in the region of St. -Anthony's Falls. The long row of hills in the distance -was tinged with gold, which mixed gaudily with their -purple hues. The dark green of the trees that grew on -the opposite shore interposed between the brightness of the -hills beyond and the white glare of the foaming waters.</p> - -<p>Above the Falls, large trees lay fixed in the river, notwithstanding -the efforts the waves appeared to be making -to remove every obstacle that lay in their way, which led -to the edge of the precipice, where they threw themselves -into the abyss below.</p> - -<p>Large and small fragments of rocks dotted the water in -every direction, and in the centre of the Falls lay a number -of rocks reposing against each other, with rich, luxuriant -shrubs and trees rising from among them.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding the noise of the falling waters, and the -roaring of the boiling waves below, there was great beauty -mingled with the grandeur of the scene. The width of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span> -river at this point made the height of the Falls appear less -than it really was. The association connected with the -death of Wenona,<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">26</a> the injured, but loving wife, gave a -romantic cast to the red man's thoughts, as he rested from -the toils of the chase near this beautiful scene. He could -identify the very spot where she raised her arms, while the -notes of her death-song pealed above all other sounds, as -her slight canoe bent towards her child's and her own -grave. He marvelled that the boiling of the waters did -not appal her, or that the voice of her husband did not -rouse her from her fatal purpose.</p> - -<p>But now there is no person near, to take from the solitary -beauty of the scene. If the screaming of the loon -were heard, it was immediately followed by the flapping of -her wings, as she passed to the spirit lakes, over whose -quiet surface she loved better to rest. The deer were all -far distant;—the shade of the forest trees was more acceptable -now than the rays of the summer's sun. Whatever -might be the burden of the song of the waters, it was unheard, -save by the spirits that are ever assembled in numbers -around this hallowed spot.</p> - -<p>When the intense heat had passed away, a fresh, invigorating -wind was felt among the rocks and waves. Evening -was unfolding her mantle, and her breath was playing over -the bright flowers that even here enjoy their short season<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span> -of life. The flitting clouds were gathering towards the -horizon, constantly changing their hues, and resting in -golden lines above the hills. Large fish, the bass, and the -pike, moved at their ease in the restless waters, as if there -were no fear of being bearded in this their stronghold. -The beautiful red deer, too, has been tempted to come and -be refreshed,—ever on their guard, though, as might be seen -by the tossing of their heads when the winds rose and whispered -over the earth.</p> - -<p>Now they start and flee like lightning, for the light -sound of woman's step is heard; and in the very spot where -one of them rested, looking over the waves, stands a slight -figure, bearing in her face and form the marks of youth, -while her short and richly embroidered skirt, and the -crimson okendokenda, that partly covered her arms and -chest, showed her to belong to a family at least not unimportant -among her people.</p> - -<p>She stood still for some moments in a listening attitude, -her face pale, and every feature fixed in intense thought. -She carried a bundle of small size: this she seemed to -think of value, for she grasped it as if her life depended on -the preservation of what it contained.</p> - -<p>Turning towards the course of the rocks by the river's -edge, she surveyed their way; then, bending where she -stood, she looked unappalled at the waters becoming dark -by the shadows of evening.</p> - -<p>There was but little current where she stood, for the -position of the rocks prevented this, though quite near them -the impetuous stream hurried on like one tired of existence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span> -eager only to reach and be lost in the great ocean of forgetfulness.</p> - -<p>There was evidently some great difficulty in her position, -for her colour flushed and left her, and she pressed her -hands across her bosom, without quelling its tumult: yet it -was equally evident her object was self-preservation. Life -was dear to the young and active blood that animated her -veins. There was too much brightness in the depths of -those dark eyes to be quenched by death. She looked all -around her; and well might she have asked if the red man's -heaven boasted a more beautiful picture than the one now -before her.</p> - -<p>The sound of voices has recalled her from her meditations. -Loud, stern voices, speaking in tones of anger and -disappointment. They were not yet very near, but she -knew them well. The language was her own, but the lips -that spoke it were threatening death to her. She recognised -his voice—her husband's—he was the pursuer. And -she smiled a bitter smile as she listened to the harsh sounds. -Notwithstanding the perils that surrounded her, she was as -calm as when she sat by her mother's door, in the far-off -home of the Indians, who live by "Le Lac qui Parle." All -her terror, all her restlessness was forgotten. She raised -her arm to its greatest height, and elevating her lithe frame -too, she threw her bundle as far as her strength enabled -her; listening till the voices sounded nearer, and the steps -could be distinguished in the dead leaves that lay in their -path, she swayed her form to and fro, and sprung, laughing -as she did so, from the rocks. Then swimming round them, -disappeared, concealed by the overhanging precipices, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span> -well as by the thick foliage that grew close to the water's -edge.</p> - -<p>Hardly was she out of sight when her place was again -occupied. A large, fierce-looking Sioux stood where she -had been standing. He looked round as if the object of his -search might be hid among the rocks and bushes. The -waters laughed just as she had, as he complained of fatigue -and disappointment. He looked like a fiend who had forced -himself where but a moment ago some gentle spirit had been -resting. The passions in their prime worked in his haughty -face. Stripes of different-coloured paint lay across his cheeks -and around his eyes. His broad chest and brawny arms -were uncovered—he raised his hand, and moving it in a -half circle, as he turned towards his companions, "I have -looked for her until I am tired," he said; "perhaps she has -killed herself; if she is living, my vengeance shall yet reach -her,—I will tear her heart from her breast."</p> - -<p>Then turning, wearied and angered beyond endurance, -he strode back towards his home. His giant figure rose far -above his companions. His eye flashed like the lion's deprived -of his prey. Well might they call him the Fiery -Man.</p> - - -<p class="p2t center in0 nobreak">CHAPTER II.</p> - -<p>We must go back two days before this incident occurred. -In a large wigwam were two persons. The one, a young, -pale woman, seated on a mat. The white lips and the -black shadows beneath the eyes, told of watchings and despair. -No tear moistened the colourless eyelids, no sigh relieved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span> -the overburdened heart. Still as death itself, the -young mother gazed on the unconscious cause of her agony.</p> - -<p>There it lay, peaceful and calm, against her throbbing -heart. There it lay, as it was wont, when seated on the -high rocks by the Mississippi, it heard the sweet tones of a -mother's voice. There it lay, never to hear even them -again.</p> - -<p>Absorbed in her grief, the mother knew not that there -was another in the wigwam. She was recalling, as she -gazed on the crushed flower thus rudely torn from her love, -the many and strange changes of the past year. She had -once looked forward to the future, as the young always do. -She loved and was promised to the one she loved.</p> - -<p>Fiery Man came from afar, with his powerful, athletic -frame, and his deep and piercing eyes, and his voice so low -and solemn. He stopped at her father's village, returning -from a successful expedition against the Sacs; and he was -full of proud boastings. He said he was "a great warrior, -and hunter too, for his lodge was always full of game; that -he had taken more scalps than any brave of his band; that -when he held his enemies, they were like children in his -large hand."</p> - -<p>In an evil hour his eye fell upon White Moon. He loved -her because she was the opposite of himself. He fancied -the gentle and submissive way in which she received the -directions of her parents. When he saw her eyes droop -and her cheek mantle when the warriors danced—when he -watched her and marked that she only looked at one—when -he inquired, and learned that to that one was she -destined, then did he mark her for his own; he was as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span> -cool and determined as if he had been aiming his arrow at -the frightened grouse; as sure of his prey as if the bird lay -already bleeding at his feet.</p> - -<p>He went to her mother, and showed her the rich crimson -cloth he had received from the traders on his way.</p> - -<p>Other presents he laid before her, very valuable then; -for traders were just coming in the country, and articles -for use or adorning were rare among the Sioux.</p> - -<p>The mother told him her child was promised,—that -White Moon loved the noble young warrior she was to -marry, and she could not break her daughter's heart.</p> - -<p>The father came in, and Fiery Man showed him his new -gun,—they were scarce then, and were deemed wakun -(supernatural). Fiery Man enlarged upon its merits, and -he pressed on the foolish old man the advantages of securing -him as a friend, by giving him his daughter in marriage.</p> - -<p>White Moon's mother interfered, saying, "her daughter -was a good girl, and deserved to be happy. She was not -like the other girls, always running away to look among -the rocks in the water for young beavers; but she was -steady and industrious, and should make herself happy by -marrying the man she loved."</p> - -<p>Fiery Man stamped, and his eyes were bloodshot with -rage. He showed the parents his medicine-bag; he would -make them know what it was to refuse a medicine-man; -he would charm them; he would dry up the red rivers of -life; he would make their steps feeble.</p> - -<p>Already would White Moon have trembled, had she -been present.</p> - -<p>Fiery Man saw his advantage, and continued: he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span> -the friend of Chat-o-tee-dah, the forest god, and he could -go where no other Indian could, protected by this powerful -friend. He was strong and brave, and it was well for the -woman who married him, and for her family too.</p> - -<p>The old man had kept his eyes fixed on the gun. Fiery -Man told him to follow him; he did so, but could hardly -keep pace with the strides of the tall warrior. Fiery Man -led him towards the lowlands, where, among the trees, the -woodcock were in numbers. They seated themselves on a -mound, the work of their more enlightened ancestors; they -were quiet at first, only listening to the passing of the birds -through the low trees.</p> - -<p>Fiery Man pointed the gun, and fired; the birds fell to -the ground. The old man laughed, and Fiery Man showed -him the powder and shot.</p> - -<p>He took the gun and explained to his companion the -mode of preparing it to fire. "Ha!" said he, "you cannot -shoot as well as I; but try and bring down one." The old -man pointed, and fired; his aim was sure: again a bird fell -before his astonished gaze.</p> - -<p>"It is yours," said Fiery Man, "and the girl is mine. We -will go back and tell her mother what we have agreed -upon."</p> - -<p>Again he led the way, and the old man followed him -back to the wigwam. There they found mother and -daughter. There were tears upon the cheek of the latter; -she was soon to know how vainly they were shed. She -turned away from the gaze of her tall lover, and hid her -face against her mother's bosom.</p> - -<p>"Tell her," said Fiery Man to White Moon's father; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span> -the old man knew of the bitter dregs he would stir up in -the fountain of life before him: he could not find words to -tell the young maiden her doom.</p> - -<p>Fiery Man could not brook the delay. He laid his -brawny hand on the young head that had not yet been -lifted from its refuge-place. "She is mine," he said to the -mother; "I have bought her. That wakun gun is her -father's, that red cloth is yours. White Moon must go -with me to my lodge: she must give me warriors like -myself for sons. She will be obedient and happy, because -her husband is powerful, and feared."</p> - -<p>White Moon raised her head and looked in his face; for -hope? as well might she have asked it in the glancing of -the tomahawk of a Chippeway.</p> - -<p>That dark, stern face was softened, it is true: but it was -from the contemplation of her attractive features; pride -was changed to satisfaction: but it was because he knew -that the graceful figure which clung to her mother for -protection would soon lean only on him. She sighed and -turned away her face; she trembled and sank upon the mat -with weakness; no hope—all her bright visions changed: -darkness and gloom had come where day had presided in -all her brightness.</p> - -<p>A short time saw Fiery Man lead to his wigwam his sad -young wife, wearied to death with her long journey. Could -love have consoled her, she had been happy: for she was as -dear as life to the heart of the passionate, overbearing man. -As he led her into the wigwam, he pointed to its present -occupant. He said she was his sister, but the first glance -did the same. There was the tall, gaunt figure; the fierce,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span> -flashing eye; the passionate, commanding countenance; but -far more repelling in her than in him. White Moon read -her own fate; she was to endure hatred as well as love. -She could see no shelter from the storm that was settling -over her head.</p> - - -<p class="p2t center in0 nobreak">CHAPTER III.</p> - -<p>The sister of Fiery Man stood unnoticed, we have said, -in the lodge where White Moon sat with her dead child. -On her back she carried a large bundle of wood. As she -threw it to the ground, the noise roused White Moon from -her dreams. She rose from her mat, clasping the child yet -more closely to her breast. Giving one look towards her -sister, in which was concentrated all the passion and all -the harshness of which she was capable, she left the lodge. -The crimson flush soon died away from her face, and she -was calm and pale as before.</p> - -<p>Assisted by several of the women, she proceeded to place -her child upon its last resting-place. It was at some distance -from the lodge, yet in sight. She returned, and -carried to the place of burial the cradle and some little -trinkets belonging to the child, and hung them in reach of -the infant's hand, on the scaffolding.</p> - -<p>All day she sat on the ground near it. She wept there, -as only a mother can weep, for her first and only child. -She refused the food the women offered her; she had not -eaten since its death.</p> - -<p>Even when night came, she was still there, through its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span> -long watches giving vent to her violent grief. The breaking -of the morn found her sleeping for a short interval on -the ground; on awakening, she remembered there were -duties that still claimed her care. Her new buffalo-skin -lodge was still unfinished, and she had promised her husband -she would be in it on her return. The one they were -living in was her sister's; it was an old one, torn, and admitting -the rain, so that it was not comfortable. Some of -the women had assisted her in making it, and she had still -to finish and set it up before the evening.</p> - -<p>On the day of the child's death she had been obliged to -leave her work, to go out at some little distance to cut -wood. She did not, as usual, take her child with her: it -was asleep in its carved board cradle, and she left it in -charge of a girl, the child of one of her friends. Fiery -Man's sister had gone out, telling White Moon she should -be away all day. So great was her dread of this proud -woman—so fearful was she that she would revenge on her -child the hatred she felt towards herself—that otherwise -she would not have left the infant at home.</p> - -<p>The anticipations of White Moon at her first interview -with her husband's sister were all realized. This woman -possessed all the bad qualities of Fiery Man, without any -of his redeeming ones.</p> - -<p>She had been married, and was a widow. Both of her -children were dead: there was no avenue by which kindness -could find its way to her heart. She disliked White -Moon, because she had so won her brother's love. But -there needed to assign no reason, for she disliked all who -were better off than she.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span></p> - -<p>It is not only in civilized life that the dread passion of -envy has full sway: the human heart, the same by nature, -varies only by association and circumstance.</p> - -<p>Had it not been for the unhappy disposition of Fiery -Man's sister, White Moon had been happy. She could not -but be proud of her husband, and of his affection for her: -it was not in the nature of a Sioux woman to see unmoved -the many trophies of his skill and bravery. But the curse -of envy was about her; and when White Moon smiled over -her boy, and Fiery Man exulted in the pride and affection -of a Sioux father for his son, his sister could not rejoice -with them—she envied and hated them.</p> - -<p>Fiery Man exacted the most implicit obedience from his -wife, and from all around him. He would not have brooked -the slightest contradiction from her; but she did not -attempt it.</p> - -<p>In most cases an Indian wife is little more than a serving-woman -to her husband. To this White Moon was accustomed -from observation, and from her short experience. -She trembled at her husband's voice, though against her -it had never been raised in anger. But the violent passions, -the abusive language, the frequent blows—these, coming -from one who ought to have no power over her, made her -often wish for death. Yet so great was the likeness of -brother and sister, that she bowed to the tyranny of the -one, from having done so to the other. Her spirit, too, -was broken. She could easily submit, but not forget. -When she left her child in the wigwam it was quietly -sleeping; when she returned it still slept. She had been a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span> -long time away, and yet the rest of the infant appeared to -have been unbroken.</p> - -<p>She missed the girl who had promised to remain with -the child. She had brought a heavy burden of wood to -her lodge, and she sat down by the child to rest, and to -watch its awakening.</p> - -<p>Its unusual paleness alarmed her; she held her own -breath that she might distinguish the breathing of the -child, but in vain. She placed her hand before its parted -lips; the warm breath of infancy did not play upon it.</p> - -<p>She thought it strange; but death did not present itself -to her mind. Going to the door of the lodge, she looked -around, and saw her sister gazing, with fixed attention, -towards the wigwam. This alarmed her, and she returned -to her child; again she listened for its breath: she pressed -its small and clammy hand. Then did the real truth flash -across her. She took in her arms the infant and rushed -with it into the open air.</p> - -<p>As she stood outside calling for help, the Indians collected -around her. Her sister, calm and unconcerned, -approached with them and looked on.</p> - -<p>The Indian doctors were there, and White Moon, under -their direction, carried her child back to the lodge. She -placed it on a buffalo-robe, which was folded on the floor. -Red Head, the great medicine-man, seated himself near it. -He held the sacred rattle, shaking it, and chaunting in a -loud voice. He shouted to the women to stand off, for -near him, on the ground, he had laid his pipe and medicine-bag.</p> - -<p>White Moon alternately wept and hoped; she knew Red<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span> -Head was a powerful medicine-man: but still her baby -showed no signs of life. Despairing, at last, and frantic -with grief, she broke in upon his incantations. She raised -her child, and placed its little face against her breast. She -knew this test would be decisive.</p> - -<p>There was no motion, on its part, to receive the offered -sustenance. She raised her despairing eyes, and they met -the cold glances of her sister. Then she told Red Head -there was no hope. She asked to be left alone with her -dead; she wept until the power of weeping was gone: and -then, until the time was come to place it in its cradle grave, -she held it to her heart. She did not dare reflect on the -passionate grief of the father, when he should return, and -ask of her his son.</p> - -<p>She could not rouse herself to say, what she believed to -be the case, that his sister had destroyed it. There was -no mark,—no apparent cause for its sudden death.</p> - -<p>On returning to the wigwam, after the burial of the -child, she found her sister there, more than usually bent -upon an altercation. She endeavoured to avoid it by employing -herself in silence. She eat for the first time since -her child's death, and then applied herself to the task of -finishing her lodge. Her bereaved condition might have -excited the pity of her companion; but there was no -sympathy in that breast. For a time, White Moon would -not reply to her taunts. This the more enraged the other, -who at length charged the heart-broken mother with the -murder of her child!</p> - -<p>White Moon heard her in stupified horror and amazement. -That a mother could destroy her infant,—no such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span> -sentiment could reach her understanding or her heart. Yet -again and again did her sister repeat the charge, dwelling -upon the impossibility of the child's dying without a cause. -No one, she said, had been with the infant during her absence; -the young girl, who had promised to take care of it, -having gone off soon after White Moon left. She then -insisted, that as White Moon had been forced to marry her -brother, she had thus resented upon him her wrong. She -had killed his child, forgetting it was her own.</p> - -<p>The despairing woman was roused by a sense of the -injustice done her. She saw, too, her position,—the danger -in which she stood. She felt, in anticipation, the reproaches, -the hot anger of her husband.</p> - -<p>She was roused even to madness. Her many wrongs -stood up in witness against the woman who, in her deep -sorrow, thus goaded her. Her slight frame expanded; the -gentle and obedient wife, the submissive woman, had become -a murderer; her knife lay in the heart of her husband's -sister,—the strong had bowed before the weak!</p> - -<p>The act was so instantaneous, that White Moon stood -alone to behold the consequences of her passion. It was -during the hottest part of the day, and their lodge stood -apart from the rest. Most of the men were on the hunt -with Fiery Man; the women, some sleeping away the -sultry hours, others off at their different employments.</p> - -<p>The hoarse groans of the dying woman were not heard -outside the lodge, so that White Moon was not detected. -On one of the mats lay the embroidered dress of a young -warrior that Fiery Man's sister had just finished. She -immediately determined upon making her escape, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span> -taking these clothes with her as a disguise. She made -them into a bundle before the eyes of the dying woman, -and resolved upon flying from her husband's resentment.</p> - -<p>How often she had called for death, yet how closely she -now clung to life. The violent excitement through which -she had passed had brought again the colour to her cheek. -Brightness had succeeded to the expression of languor in -her eyes. There was no tie to keep her in her husband's -home. She now only thought of him as the avenger of his -sister's blood.</p> - -<p>She left the lodge without even a glance towards the -cause of her misery and her sin. She turned from the -places which would now know her no more.</p> - - -<p class="p2t center in0 nobreak">CHAPTER IV.</p> - -<p>Fiery Man and the large party of hunters came in sight -of their home on the evening of the same day. They had -brought a large number of buffalo, and were glad to reach -the vicinity of their village, where their wives and other -women came forward to relieve them of their burden. -Merry work it was to them on this occasion, until they -learned some of the hunters were missing.</p> - -<p>Fiery Man looked to see his wife and child among -them, and was disappointed and irritated at not seeing -them; but he remembered White Moon was always backward -in joining these noisy parties, and thus he accounted -for her absence.</p> - -<p>His tall figure was slightly clad, for the weather was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span> -warm—in his right hand he held a spear, and on its top -was a scalp recently taken. He strode on without waiting -to explain the occasion of this, only thinking of his wife and -son. He did not miss his sister, though he might well have -done so, for she was always ready with her strong arm to -assist the hunters, and her loud voice to give directions to -the women.</p> - -<p>There was a great deal of confusion as they entered the -village, for the absence of the three hunters had been accounted -for, though not by Fiery Man, who had passed forward -towards his lodge.</p> - -<p>The hunters, enthusiastic with their success, (for the number -of buffalo they had killed was unusually great,) were -surprised by a party of Iroquois, and in the sudden terror -three of the Sioux, who had laid down their arms, intending -to sleep, were killed and scalped. These Iroquois had -come from a great distance; their villages were in the -western part of New York. They were then in the height -of their power, and constantly performed exploits that -astonished other Indian nations.</p> - -<p>But that a small party should have travelled four hundred -leagues, living by chance, surrounded by their enemies; -that they should venture among so powerful a people with -such an object, is indeed remarkable; that they should have -been successful, is still more so.</p> - -<p>They lost one of their party. Fiery Man pursued them, -with some others, as they endeavoured to make their escape, -and killed one, whose scalp adorned his spear.</p> - -<p>The lamentations of the families whose relatives had been -killed, their affectionate but melancholy reception of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span> -dead bodies—for they had been wrapped in skins and -brought home—the loud talking of those engaged in -caring for the immense quantities of buffalo-meat and the -valuable skins,—all these were unnoticed and indeed unheard -by Fiery Man.</p> - -<p>Even his stout heart quailed before the silent and gloomy -appearance of his lodge. There was not even an evidence -of habitation.</p> - -<p>The lodge on which White Moon had been engaged lay -heaped up near it; but there was no one there to welcome -him.</p> - -<p>He threw up the door and looked in; then started almost -affrighted at what he saw. His sister lay dead—and the -only creature near her was the small dog that had been -always by her side during life. He could not mistake the -horrible symptoms,—the fallen jaw, the dark-looking blood, -the face calm and composed in its expression, as it never -had been in life.</p> - -<p>He turned again from the lodge to seek his wife and -child,—the former with her timid and almost fearful salutation, -the latter with his merry infant laugh, as he reached -forth his hands to be taken close to his father's heart.</p> - -<p>He looked around among the groups talking here and -there. They were gazing at him, with doubt and consternation -in every countenance; for who would dare tell him -of all?—who would expose himself to the violence of his -wrath?—who but feared to see that iron frame bowed with -the tale of horror he must hear?</p> - -<p>He hastened towards them, and shook Harpstinah roughly -by the arm. "Where is my wife?—my child? Speak!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span> -he said, as the woman, in her fright, seemed to have lost -the power of speech.</p> - -<p>An old man, who had not accompanied the hunting -party, on account of his age, came forward. "There is -your son," he said, pointing to the burial-ground. "Your -wife left him asleep, and your sister—"</p> - -<p>Harpstinah, having recovered herself, interrupted him: -he had but a confused notion of the state of things. She -told Fiery Man all the circumstances, even to her going to -the lodge, drawn thither by the continual crying of the -dog, and finding his sister there in her death-pangs. She -had tried to make Harpstinah comprehend a message -to her brother, but had expired with the effort. Previous -to that she had told several persons that White Moon -had killed her child, but no one believed it. The affectionate -care of the mother was too well known; besides, -the girl who had been left in charge of her, said the infant -had awakened a short time after White Moon had left, and -had then fallen asleep again.</p> - -<p>White Moon had been seen as she hurried from the village, -but no one had seen her return. Harpstinah had -heard angry words passing between them, but did not -know that anything more serious had occurred, until some -time after, when she entered the lodge, as she had before -described. All presumed it must have been the act of -White Moon, as she had expressed previously her intention -of remaining at home, in order to finish her lodge.</p> - -<p>This was the substance of the intelligence, to which -Fiery Man listened with an ashy countenance and a -trembling frame. His wife, whom he had so loved—his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span> -boy, the noble, healthy child, whose growth he had watched -day by day! As he bent forward to listen, large tears -rested on his cheek. The women moved off affrighted at -the spectacle, that tears, such as women shed, should be -seen there.</p> - -<p>There was one who still remained beside him. Fiery -Man had not heard the charge brought against his wife of -the murder of her child. So stricken was he, that he only -heard and felt that they were gone. The Fawn still remained -beside him: she had loved Fiery Man, and had -hoped to be his wife. She waited to speak when he should -arouse from the first stupor of his grief. He turned to go, -he knew not where; he heard his name called, and saw the -Fawn beside him. "Your sister said that White Moon -had never loved you, and was now revenged; that you had -torn her from all she had loved; that even her old mother -had wept, and asked you to leave her with her, but in -vain; and it was for this White Moon had killed your -child, that you might have sorrow too."</p> - -<p>Then came back the colour to the bronzed cheek of -Fiery Man, and the flashing to his eye. Then did he stand -erect, like one that had never known grief—then did love -change to bitter hatred. The wife of his bosom was his -worst enemy. There were no more tears, but loud threats -of vengeance—no trembling, but firm purposes of revenge.</p> - -<p>He went again to the lodge, to look at his sister's body. -He left her, and stood by the grave of his child. He laid -his hand upon the little body, and stood thus while he -decided what to do. He shouted for the young men, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span> -told them to go and hunt for his wife, and bring her back -to him.</p> - -<p>It was fearful to see the paroxysms of his hot anger. -He lay down on the grass near his child; he rested, but -not with sleep. He sought his wife through the night, but -in vain. He went into the thick forests; he remembered -Chat-o-tee-dah, the god of the woods, was his friend; he -prayed to the god; he sacrificed to the wakeen-stone; but -still he was unsuccessful.</p> - -<p>He knew neither sleep nor rest until the evening of the -next day, when he was forced to yield to his overtaxed -condition. There did he stand, by the Laughing Waters, -where she had stood. The White Moon was making her -way, slowly and sadly, but clinging to life—full of grief, -but fearing the avenger—living on the berries of the woods, -and sleeping where the red deer and its young lie down to -rest.</p> - - -<p class="p2t center in0 nobreak">CHAPTER V.</p> - -<p>A short time after the events we have noticed, a young -and slight-looking Sioux warrior entered one of the villages -of that nation. He was a stranger and alone. This was -enough to insure him a hospitable reception. On approaching -the lodges which were nearest him, he seemed to hesitate -as to what course he should pursue as regards making -himself known. In the mean time his appearance had -attracted a good deal of attention.</p> - -<p>His limbs were slight but well formed, his figure denoting -agility rather than strength. His dress was new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span> -and handsomely ornamented; his leggins were of very fine -deer-skin, dressed so as to be white and soft, and these, as -well as his coat, were richly embroidered with porcupine -quills. He had no blanket, nor were there any war-eagle -feathers in his head; his pipe, made of an earthen material, -was large and heavy. He was without arms of any kind: -this was the most remarkable feature in his appearance.</p> - -<p>He was pale, as if he had been ill, and there was at -times an expression of wildness, almost amounting to ferocity, -in his appearance. He advanced towards a lodge -outside of which stood the family; they spoke to him at -once, telling him to sit down and rest himself. One of the -women seeing his mocassin was torn, untied it, saying she -would mend it.</p> - -<p>Before asking him his name or errand, they insisted upon -his eating, knowing from his features and dress he was a -Sioux.</p> - -<p>His feet they found blistered and inflamed. The women -of the lodge got some herbs, laid them in cold water, and -applied them to the inflamed parts.</p> - -<p>They gave him wild rice, in an earthen bowl of a kind -manufactured by themselves, the art being now lost. They -were then destitute of metallic vessels of any kind.</p> - -<p>The young warrior, after he had eaten, proceeded to give -an account of himself. He said he had come a great distance -in search of an uncle who had suddenly disappeared from -among them. He was a very important man among them, -famous for his wisdom, and for knowing all the history of -their people, the Mendewakantonwau Dacotas. He could -always tell them the year when buffalo would be the most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span> -plentiful; he could direct them to the very spot where the -largest herds could be found.</p> - -<p>His people, he said, lived on the banks of the Minesota; -the mouth of this river, his uncle said, lay immediately -over the centre of the earth, and under the centre of the -heavens: the Great Spirit had ordered this, that they might -know they were his favourite people, superior to all other -nations.</p> - -<p>All these things his uncle had learned in dreams; and -often he spoke of them to the young people, that they might -be proud of their country, and might remember who was -their Great Father and friend.</p> - -<p>On one occasion he had assembled the young people, and -told them of the bloody battles they had fought with the -Sacs and Foxes and other nations. Some of the Dacota -bands had been destroyed by them, but they had been saved -because they were under the centre of the heavens, and the -eye of the Great Spirit was always upon them. They knew -more too than the other bands, and were in consequence -much better off.</p> - -<p>On that occasion he had talked nearly all night, and after -that they all retired to rest. On awaking, the old warrior -had disappeared, and since then had never been seen. -Whether Unk-ta-he had drawn him into the deep, or Chat-o-tee-dah, -the god of the woods, had drawn him under the -earth, or the Great Spirit had taken him, no one knew. -He was no more among them.</p> - -<p>The young man went on to say he had had a dream, in -which he was told to array himself in new clothing, and to -go in search of his uncle. He was forbidden to take arms or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span> -provisions of any kind; and in a short time he would have -an interview with his uncle. This he had done in spite of -the objections of his friends, who urged him at least to take -his bow and arrows, but he had refused to do so, preferring -to follow implicitly the directions he had received in his -dream. He had been in the woods a long time, and was -almost despairing, when one night he fell into a deep sleep, -and his uncle stood before him; not old and wrinkled and -time-worn, as he remembered him, but erect and firm. His -voice was strong too, and he could have been heard a long -way off, he spoke so loud and distinctly.</p> - -<p>He said that the Sioux need not any more look for his -return, for that in the far-off country where he lived, he had -none of those weaknesses and pains to contend with, which -are constantly among the aged on earth: he had wanted -to try the bravery of his young nephew, to see whether or -not he would have courage to do as he was told. He was -glad he had done so, for now he would be a favourite of the -gods, who delighted in courageous acts. He directed him -as to what route he should take, telling him of everything -that would happen to him on his way to the village, and -charged him to say to them, that he should be furnished -with a lance, bow, and arrows, and also have given to him a -comrade, and be allowed to stay in the band. The Indians -were overcome with admiration at the courage shown in -these adventures, and they immediately presented him with -the arms he required, and in every other way gratified his -wishes.</p> - -<p>He accepted these things proudly, as a right, rather than -a favour; this bearing made him still more popular with his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span> -new friends. One of them came forward and told him he -should have his oldest daughter—pointing to the well-pleased -maiden—for a wife: the stranger said he had promised -his uncle he would not marry until he had killed -three Winnebagoes, and wore the feathers of honour he -had thus earned.</p> - -<p>He continued to grow in their favour, and was preparing -to accompany some of their braves on a war-party, -when, one morning, a party of Sioux approached the village. -One of the men was much taller and larger than all -the rest, his eagle feathers towering above their heads. The -hospitable people pressed forward to welcome them: and -when they were rested, and had eaten and smoked, the -chief missed their stranger friend. He was not to be seen; -when they found he did not return to them, they told his -strange story to Fiery Man and his band.</p> - -<p>The wretched man knew it was his wife who had thus -baffled him. He went on his way, but some evil spirit stood -between him and the accomplishment of his purpose. She -was not to be given to his vengeance or his love. There -was happiness yet in store for White Moon.</p> - - -<p class="p2t center in0 nobreak">CHAPTER VI.</p> - -<p>Chat-o-tee-dah, the god of the woods and forests, holds a -high rank among the Sioux; by some he is considered even -greater than the Thunder-Bird. Were it not for the great -number of Thunder-Birds, that race would long since have -been extinct; so many battles have they had, and so powerful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span> -is the god whose home is in the dark woods, whose -guardians and servants are every bird that rests itself in -the branches of the trees, whose notes welcome the coming -of the day.</p> - -<p>Chat-o-tee-dah passes by the shrubbery of the lowlands, -and makes his home on the largest tree on the highest -eminence of the forest; his dwelling is in the root of the -tree. He is not confined to this part of it, but comes out -when occasion may require.</p> - -<p>Is he hungry? he takes his seat upon the branch of the -tree, and, by his power of attraction, he is soon surrounded -by the winged messengers of the forest, ready to do his -bidding. While he is thus holding his court, the limb of -the tree on which he is seated becomes smooth as glass.</p> - -<p>Chat-o-tee-dah and the Thunder-Bird, as I have said, are -enemies: and many hard battles have been fought between -them, the god of the woods being generally the victor.</p> - -<p>This is to be ascribed, in a great measure, to the attachment -and vigilance of his body-guard, the birds of the -forest.</p> - -<p>At the slightest commotion in the heavens, whose stormy -portents indicate the coming of the Thunder-Bird, Chat-o-tee-dah -is roused from his sleep, or whatever occupation -may engage him at the time, by his servants; he has thus -ample time to make his arrangements.</p> - -<p>While the clouds roll swiftly and angrily towards the -habitation of the water god, and streaked lightning plays -in vivid flashes on the earth, Chat-o-tee-dah is coolly -making his preparations for the work of death, assured, -by his very calmness, of victory. The little birds, hid in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span> -the dark branches of the trees, are faithful sentinels, momentarily -making their report, while the god of the woods -keeps safely hid in the root of the tree, his stronghold in -time of danger.</p> - -<p>The Thunder-Bird resorts to cunning. He takes the -form of a large bird, but his disguise is always penetrated -by the smallest forest-bird; they know him, and, like -faithful servants, keep near their lord. Again and again -the thunder rolls, and the lightning plays about the -branches of the tree. The waters swell and rise up to -anger the Thunder-Bird, and to tempt him to do battle, -but he has too many quarrels to resent against the forest -gods, and the day of his vengeance is come. It is not -often that he has courage to tempt the forest god to battle, -for he knows his power; but now he will show him his -own strength, when he is roused.</p> - -<p>There is a stillness of the elements, and now again the -deafening sound is heard, and the lightning pierces the -home of the forest god; but Chat-o-tee-dah is safe, for there -is a communication with the roots of the tree and the -waters, and he passes through it safely, hearing the while -the noise of the elements, while he descends to the great -waters below.</p> - -<p>Again the earth shakes, for the Thunder-Bird has cast -forth his lightning, and pierced the root of the tree; but he -is again defeated by the cunning of the god, who has found -a refuge in the dominions of Unk-ta-he.</p> - -<p>But at last the forest god is angry, and he has determined -to come forth from his watery retreat, and beard the Thunder-Bird -with his own weapons. He hurls back at him the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span> -lightning;—in an instant the daring invader is dead at his -feet.</p> - -<p>The battles of their gods are unending themes of adventure -among the Sioux. Conversing upon them, the -hours are whiled away from evening until midnight, and -often from midnight to morn. The intellect must have -occupation. How many a noble mind has thus gone to -waste!</p> - -<p>We may judge, from the importance attached to these -fanciful stories, how hard must be the work of the Indian -missionary. What a system of error to uproot! We may -also look into our own hearts:—which is the greater absurdity, -the worship of Chat-o-tee-dah or mammon?—the -bowing down to the glorious works of the hand of God, or -devotions paid to the gilded idol of this world?</p> - -<p>Fiery Man no more boasted of his intercourse with the -gods; they seemed to have forgotten they were his friends.</p> - -<p>He had sought far and near for his wife. At times his -heart was full of revenge: that she should have destroyed -his son was the bitterest reflection of all. His sister's blood -seemed still to be flowing before him; vengeance was called -for on her who had made his lodge dark for ever. Then a -different mood would affect him. She would stand before -him, obedient, docile, and timid, with her soft, fearful voice, -so different from the loud tones of his sister's. He could -remember her so distinctly, as she held up her child for -him to see, as he left the lodge to go with the hunting -party. Her long, braided hair, falling about her shoulders, -as her infant's cheek lay pressed against hers. For the first -time he thought she looked sad at parting with him, and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span> -had treasured the thought. He knew <i>then</i> she never raised -her hand against her child. He would have crushed his -evil-minded sister for the suggestion, had she stood before -him in life. He would sit buried in thought, the storms of -passion breaking away from his heart; but this did not last, -and woe to the man who came before him in his fierce -mood.</p> - -<p>He died in battle; but the Indians said he gave his life -away, for he met his enemy as if he were in a dream, and -shouted no cry as he was wont. They brought his body -back and buried it by the side of his son: and even death -did not break the spell of awe connected with him, for the -women were afraid to sit and plait grass near his grave. -Harpstinah moved her lodge from where it stood, saying, -she must live farther off from the graves, that she might -not hear Fiery Man in the night calling for vengeance on -his wife, who had deserted him, and murdered his child.</p> - -<p>No one could tell the fate of White Moon. Her parents -died soon after her disappearance. But the Black Eagle, -who some years after visited the Sioux who live among the -thousand isles at the head of Rum River, said, that when -he arrived there, White Moon's old lover took him to his -lodge, and that his wife helped him off with his snow-shoes, -and made him broth, for he was nearly perished with cold -and hunger, having been at one time covered with snow -for several days and nights, as his only chance of life.</p> - -<p>When he told them he had come for some of the stone -that lay on the shores of that river, to make knives, the -war-chief asked him what band he belonged to, and that -while he was answering, the woman ceased her employ<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span>ment, -listening intently to him. That the war-chief -asked him what had become of that tall chief called the -Fiery Man; and that while he was telling of his death, -and of his strange condition before it, the woman laughed, -and said that after all Chat-o-tee-dah had not been as true -a friend as the warrior thought, for a weak woman had -escaped from his fiercest anger; and that when he asked -her if she had ever known Fiery Man, her husband was -angry, and told her to hush, saying, women always talked -too much, and that it was time she had done his leggins, -which he wanted to wear in the morning, when he met -the wise men of their band in council; that when she -returned to her work, as she was told, that he was reminded -of the quiet obedience with which White Moon -ever listened to the commands of her husband, that tall -warrior, Fiery Man, who had gone to that country where -thousands of warriors assemble and shout through the -heavens their song, as they celebrate the medicine feast.</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> -<p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26">26</a> The story of Wenona is given in "Dacota, or Legends of the Sioux," -in almost the words of the Sioux themselves. It has been often told by -travellers, and there is no doubt but it actually occurred. [N. B. This tradition, -as given in a letter from Miss Bremer to myself, during her visit to -the Falls of St. Anthony, will be found at the end of this story.—J. S. H.]</p> -</div> - - -<hr class="style1" /> - -<p class="p1t center in0 nobreak">NOTE.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p><span class="smcap">A Tradition of the Falls of St. Anthony.</span>—There is a little island, -just below the Falls, surrounded by their spray, with picturesque rocks and -dark cedars, looking lonely and romantic, more attractive than the Falls, -through its peculiar looks, and its story, connected with the Falls and with -the people which still hovers around them, on the territory of Minesota, -raising tents of one night soon to depart, kindling fires soon to be quenched. -It is called the <i>Spirit Island</i>, and its tale is that of many an Indian woman,—is -in fact the poetic truth of woman's fate among the red men. It tells:</p> - -<p>There was once a hunter of the tribe of the Dacotas (or Sioux) living -near the Falls of St. Anthony. He had but one wife, and loved her and -was loved by her so well, that the union and the happiness of the hunter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span> -and his wife, Ampota Sampa, was talked of among the tribe as wonderful. -They had two children, and lived lonely and happy for several years. But -as he became known as a great hunter, and grew rich, several families came -and raised their tipis (lodges) near that of the happy pair. And words and -whispers came to the young man that he ought to have more wives, so that -he might enjoy more happiness. He listened to the tempters, and soon -made a choice among the daughters of his new friends. But when he had -to tell his first wife thereof, his heart smote him, and, to make the news -less painful to her, he began by telling her that he had bethought himself -that she had too many household cares, and that she wanted somebody to -help her in them, and so he would bring her that help in the form of a -young girl, who was to be his second wife.</p> - -<p>Ampota Sampa answered "No!" She had not too many cares. She -was happy to have them for him and his children. She prayed and besought -him, by their former love and happy life, by every tender tie, by -the love of their little ones, not to bring a new love, a new wife, to the -lodge. He said nothing. But this same night he brought home to the -lodge his new wife.</p> - -<p>Early next morning a death-song was heard on the waters of the Mississippi, -and a canoe was seen gliding swiftly down the rapids, above the Falls -of St. Anthony, and in the canoe was sitting a young woman with two little -children folded to her bosom. It was Ampota Sampa; and in her song she -told the cause of her despair, of her death, of her departure for the spirit-land. -So she sat, singing her death-song, swiftly borne onward by the -rapids to the edge of the rocks. Her husband, her friends, heard her and -saw her, but too late. In a few moments the canoe was at the top of the -Falls; there it paused a second, and then, borne on by the rush of the -waters, down it dashed, and the roaring waves covered the victims with -their white foam.</p> - -<p>Their bodies were never seen again; but tradition says that on misty -mornings, the spirit of the Indian wife, with the children folded to her -bosom, is seen gliding in the canoe through the rising spray about the -Spirit Island, and that the sound of her death-song is heard moaning in the -wind and in the roar of the Falls of St. Anthony. Such is the legend of -the Indian wife.—<span class="smcap">Fredrika Bremer.</span></p> -</blockquote> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>THE RAIN-DROP.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MISS E. W. BARNES.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">It quivered on a bended spray—</div> -<div class="i2">A rain-drop, bright and clear—</div> -<div class="i0">Though beautiful, it waked sad thoughts,</div> -<div class="i2">'Twas so like sorrow's tear.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And on its crystal surface lay</div> -<div class="i2">Reflected, calm as heaven,</div> -<div class="i0">The glories of the summer sky,</div> -<div class="i2">With purple tints of even;</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And earth's transcendent loveliness</div> -<div class="i2">Was also on its breast,</div> -<div class="i0">As with her dewy smiles she made</div> -<div class="i2">The parting sunbeam blest.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">I loved the rain-drop, as it hung</div> -<div class="i2">So trustingly the while—</div> -<div class="i0">The verdant earth, the glowing heaven</div> -<div class="i2">Reflected in its smile.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">A symbol seemed it to mine eye</div> -<div class="i2">Of the loving human heart,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span> -<div class="i0">That lives but in the smile of God,</div> -<div class="i2">Which earth and heaven impart.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">I gazed into its tiny sphere—</div> -<div class="i2">In miniature it lay,</div> -<div class="i0">A world of beauty, trembling there,</div> -<div class="i2">And soon to pass away—</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">To pass from earth, and leave no trace,</div> -<div class="i2">But the memory divine</div> -<div class="i0">Of beauty, which, within the heart,</div> -<div class="i2">Erects its own pure shrine.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The breeze passed by; it swayed the bough</div> -<div class="i2">Where the sweet gem was hung;</div> -<div class="i0">But, with tenacious grasp, it still</div> -<div class="i2">Fondly and closely clung.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Nor, till with a resistless power</div> -<div class="i2">The mighty wind swept by,</div> -<div class="i0">Did the frail thing, so beautiful,</div> -<div class="i2">In shattered fragments lie.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And thus, though moved by every breeze</div> -<div class="i2">That sweeps along our way,</div> -<div class="i0">Our hearts still cling to life, and still</div> -<div class="i2">The world asserts its sway.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">But, like the rain-drop, pure and clear,</div> -<div class="i2">That hangs upon the bough,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span> -<div class="i0">Oh! soul of mine, give back earth's light,</div> -<div class="i2">Reflect its glories, thou!</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Give back the summer's rosy tints,</div> -<div class="i2">The verdant tree, the flower;</div> -<div class="i0">Give back the mountain and the mead,</div> -<div class="i2">The summer sun and shower.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">But ah! in thy far deeper depths</div> -<div class="i2">May heaven reflected lie;</div> -<div class="i0">Its holy calm—its voiceless wave,</div> -<div class="i2">Serene as yon soft sky.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Unruffled be those silent depths—</div> -<div class="i2">Calm, though the tempest lower.</div> -<div class="i0">My Saviour! walk thou on the wave,</div> -<div class="i2">And let it feel thy power.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Speak to the troubled waters, <i>Peace</i>,</div> -<div class="i2">And passion ne'er shall rise,</div> -<div class="i0">Nor doubt, nor care, to dim the light</div> -<div class="i2">That greets me from the skies.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>A PLEA FOR A CHOICE PICTURE.<br /> -<span class="small">TO A GENTLEMAN WHO UNDERVALUED IT.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MISS L. S. HALL.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Nay, do not say my favourite is tame—</div> -<div class="i0">Her soul lies dreaming in its tranquil depths,</div> -<div class="i0">And 'tis not every passive breeze can wake</div> -<div class="i0">The slumberer from her peaceful reverie.</div> -<div class="i0">The sheltering wings of Faith, and Hope, and Love</div> -<div class="i0">Are folded round the temple of her heart,</div> -<div class="i0">Perpetual guardians of its altar place;</div> -<div class="i0">And they, of wingéd feet, who go and come,</div> -<div class="i0">Must pass beneath their penetrating gaze;</div> -<div class="i0">Unhallowed sentiments may enter not,—</div> -<div class="i0">Where these stand sentinels, 'tis hallowed ground.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Speak but a thrilling word, and you shall meet</div> -<div class="i0">In those so dreamy eyes, that heed you not,</div> -<div class="i0">The shadow of your own ecstatic thoughts,—</div> -<div class="i0">Those lips, so passive now, shall echo back</div> -<div class="i0">The earnest tones of your own eloquence.</div> -<div class="i0">But do not measure her internal strength</div> -<div class="i0">By any standard of man's magnitude.</div> -<div class="i0">Nor think to fathom what no eye can reach,—</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span> -<div class="i0">She hath a woman's heart, and it hath been</div> -<div class="i0">The constant struggle of her watchful life,</div> -<div class="i0">To curb her will, and bend her energies,</div> -<div class="i0">And train her nature for her destiny;</div> -<div class="i0">And conscious that she hath a marshalled host,</div> -<div class="i0">Obedient to the mandates of her soul,</div> -<div class="i0">She wears a placid brow, and dreads no foe.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">A thoughtless word upon affection's tongue,</div> -<div class="i0">A look of coldness from a cherished friend,</div> -<div class="i0">A hardened thought, that wrongs her of her due,</div> -<div class="i0">And makes her seem what she would scorn to be,</div> -<div class="i0">Imputing motives she would blush to own,—</div> -<div class="i0">Her spirit, safe from storms and rude alarms,</div> -<div class="i0">Is too susceptible to wounds like these;</div> -<div class="i0">But that calm face will ne'er reveal to thee,</div> -<div class="i0">Nay, from her dearest friends she'll most conceal,</div> -<div class="i0">The bitter anguish they can measure not.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Then do not say her tranquil brow is tame.</div> -<div class="i0">A passive soul hath ne'er the dignity</div> -<div class="i0">That sits, a queen, upon her passive face;</div> -<div class="i0">'Tis nobler far to rule the spirit realm,</div> -<div class="i0">Than gather laurels from the battle-field.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>LOST AND WON.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY CAROLINE EUSTIS.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Lost the freshness of life's morning;</div> -<div class="i2">Lost the tints of rosy light,</div> -<div class="i0">Which like daylight, perfect dawning,</div> -<div class="i2">Covered all with glory bright;</div> -<div class="i0">Lost the golden locks which shaded</div> -<div class="i2">Brow so smooth, and eyes so blue,</div> -<div class="i0">And the happy smile has faded</div> -<div class="i2">Round those lips of rosy hue.</div> -<div class="i6">I have lost,—but I have won.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Lost the kind oblivious sleeping,</div> -<div class="i2">Which enshrouds the little child,</div> -<div class="i0">Like the holy angels keeping</div> -<div class="i2">Saintly watches,—calm and mild.</div> -<div class="i0">Lost the dreams of sunny hours,</div> -<div class="i2">Where no terror dare intrude;</div> -<div class="i0">Lost the dreams of love and flowers,</div> -<div class="i2">Of the beautiful and good.</div> -<div class="i6">I have lost,—but I have won.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Lost!—oh, most of all the losses!—</div> -<div class="i2">Lost the childlike, earnest faith,</div> -<div class="i0">Loving on mid joys and crosses,</div> -<div class="i2">Thankful still for all it hath.</div> -<div class="i0">I have lost youth's simple pleasures,</div> -<div class="i2">Each departed, one by one;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span> -<div class="i0">But—oh, blessing without measure!—</div> -<div class="i6">I have lost,—but I have won.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">I have won, through earnest striving,</div> -<div class="i2">Guerdons above all the loss,</div> -<div class="i0">Hopes once faded, now reviving</div> -<div class="i2">Twining round the sacred Cross:</div> -<div class="i0">Sorrow pale hath been my teacher;</div> -<div class="i2">Hopes bereft, my gentle friends;</div> -<div class="i0">Graves of the loved, my silent preacher,</div> -<div class="i2">Where dust with dust so sadly blends.</div> -<div class="i6">I have lost,—but I have won.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">I have won, through tribulation,</div> -<div class="i2">Title to a heavenly home,</div> -<div class="i0">Working out my own salvation</div> -<div class="i2">Through the blood of Christ alone.</div> -<div class="i0">Oh, my future brightest seemeth,</div> -<div class="i2">Eye of faith, exchanged for sight,</div> -<div class="i0">With celestial splendour beameth</div> -<div class="i2">On through darkness into light.</div> -<div class="i6">I have lost,—but I have won.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">I have won bright hopes immortal</div> -<div class="i2">Of a heaven of peace and rest;</div> -<div class="i0">E'en now I linger at the portal,</div> -<div class="i2">As a kindly bidden guest.</div> -<div class="i0">Lost and won!—oh earth! oh heaven!</div> -<div class="i2">Hark!—I list the angels' strain,</div> -<div class="i0">Voices in the silence even!</div> -<div class="i2">Small the loss, and great the gain!</div> -<div class="i6">I have lost,—but I have won.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>THE MISTRUSTED GUIDE.<br /> -<span class="small">A WESTERN SKETCH.</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY A MISSIONARY.</p> - -<p>It was the close of a cloudy afternoon, about sunset, in -February, 1818, and I began to think it high time to seek -a lodging-place. The prairie—the first I had seen, unless -it might have been a patch of a few acres, the day before—was -covered with snow; and, although a good many bushes -grew on it, and it was somewhat "rolling"—I hope my -readers know what <i>that</i> is—I confess its aspect was to me, -just then, more dreary than picturesque. Our road is best -described by the term which designated it, "The old Rocky -Trace," by which may be understood the "blazed" road -usually travelled from Shawneetown to Kaskaskia. The -dwellings were not very numerous—indeed, we had the -privilege of considerable exercise in passing from one to -another. Now and then a block-house, in good condition, -showed the rather recent Indian troubles, which had frequently -compelled the inhabitants to "fort."</p> - -<p>The sight of a cabin, after a while, was quite cheering. -My wife was somewhat tired of carrying the babe all day, -and was glad to see a prospect of rest and shelter. We -drove up, and inquired, as usual, if we "could get to stay,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span> -not doubting an affirmative answer. And so we had; yet -there was difficulty in the case.</p> - -<p>"I'm afeard, stranger, you'll have to go furder. <i>Our</i> -childer's got the hoopin'-cough, and maybe you moughtn't -like yourn to go whar it mought git it—'less it's had it. -You may stop, ef you're a mind to resk it, for I don't never -turn anybody away; but I didn't like to let you carry your -baby in without lettin' you know."</p> - -<p>Here <i>was</i> a difficulty. We had had the child vaccinated -at Pittsburg, on our way, but had used no precautionary -measure against hooping-cough, and in "the dead of winter" -there was some hazard in it. I looked at my wife: she -looked troubled. Our friend—for he <i>was</i> friendly—told -us there was "a house on the Turkey Hill Road, a mile or -two ahead; but it was a smart little bit on the <i>Rocky Trace</i>, -afore we'd git any place to stop." The roads forked just -where we stood, and we might choose either, to go to St. -Louis; but some circumstance made it necessary for me to -go through Kaskaskia.</p> - -<p>"What shall we do, wife?"</p> - -<p>"I really don't know what to advise. I am afraid to -expose Amy to the hooping-cough, and I am afraid to go -on far. It will soon be dark."</p> - -<p>I was irresolute and anxious. We would have "timber," -and probably a stream to cross; and, with my little "dearborn," -it might be somewhat hazardous in the dark. The -man sympathized with us—told us we "were welcome to -stay, ef we'd a mind to resk it;" but then, if we did stay, -we would have to be huddled in the same room with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span> -family, and I don't know how many of "the childer" had -the dreaded disease.</p> - -<p>All this while my wife was sitting in the wagon, and, if -not freezing, was sufficiently cold to wish for a good fire. -We had hardly observed another man standing near, with -whom the man of the house had been talking. He listened -in silence for a considerable time, but at length spoke.</p> - -<p>"Ef you'll put up with sech as I have—it's tol'able poor—you -can go to my house and stay."</p> - -<p>I looked now at the speaker, and discovered an elderly -man, in a mixed jeans hunting-shirt—it was not the fashion -to call it a blouse then—tied round the waist, a 'coon-skin -cap, and "trousers accordin'." He had a rifle, or an axe—though -I think it was the latter—lying across his arm, and -looked wrinkled, and rough, and all drawn up with the -cold. The twinkle of his deep-set eyes might be merry, or -it might be sinister. I inquired where he lived.</p> - -<p>"Why, it's rayther on the <i>Turkey Hill</i> Road, and about a -mile from t'other; but I can go in the mornin' and show -you the way. It's mighty easy gittin' over from thar to -yon road."</p> - -<p>It occurred to me that his neighbour had not once referred -to <i>him</i> to solve the difficulty, and I wondered why; -but he now rather intimated that I might as well take up -with the old man's offer. I did so, without consulting my -wife's opinion.</p> - -<p>He trudged on, and I trudged after him, leading my -horse,—which I did much of the way across the State,—through -the snow. After a little while I discovered that -we left the road, and were winding through a sort of ravine,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span> -or rather depression of the prairie, almost deserving the -name of valley. The snow-covered ground—the brown, or -bare bushes—the bleak, though diminutive hills—all looked -cold, and wild, and dreary. My guide still trudged on, -seldom looking round; and we seemed to be travelling -without a road to "nowhere." My wife called me to her. -Her looks gave token of alarm.</p> - -<p>"Do you think it safe to go on with that old man? I -don't like his looks, and this is a wild place. Hadn't we -better go back, or try some other way? I feel afraid."</p> - -<p>I laughed at her, but her fears troubled me. She was -not given to false alarms; or, if she ever felt them, she -never annoyed me with them. I cannot say that I participated -in her fears now. Indeed I did not. The old man -looked anything but terrible. I thought his countenance -mild rather than austere. Still, these backwoodsmen were -famous for a quiet ferociousness that could do a brave or -terrible deed without the least fuss. I did not know what -to think. But what to <i>do</i> seemed to admit of but one -answer—I must go on with him, and trust Providence, who -had brought us safely some fifteen hundred miles. My -wife shuddered, perhaps trembled, and hugged the child -closer; but she submitted quietly—I may say trustfully. -She certainly gave <i>him</i> no hint of her fears.</p> - -<p>At length—for the time did not seem very short to me, -and doubtless stretched out much longer to my wife—but -at length, after a long and very gradual slope down a hollow, -such as I have <i>failed</i> to describe, we saw the habitation -of our guide. It was a cabin of the rudest sort and -smallest size, in what had perhaps in "crap time" been an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span> -enclosure on the ascent of a slope beyond a little wet weather -brook. I took notice—for it was an <i>interesting</i> fact to me—that -for the accommodation of my horse there was a "rail-pen," -though, whether it was covered with straw, or -"shucks," or prairie hay, or the cloudy sky, I do not now -remember; for I have seen more such many a time since -then; but there was "cawn" in another rail-pen close by. -So my horse was supplied. But my wife and child must be -got into the house first; and in we went.</p> - -<p>Reader, in that little dearborn-wagon was all I had in -this world, or of it; and though, to say the truth, all, except -the wife and child, might have been well sold for a -very few hundred dollars—and probably that is an enormous -over-estimate—yet it was precious to me, for much of -<i>their</i> comfort depended on its preservation. And a <i>few</i> hundred -dollars—nay, a few <i>dollars</i>—would make quite an addition -to the comforts of the habitation we entered, and of -those who dwelt in it. There was neither table nor chair. -The puncheon floor was not air-tight nor a dead level. The -stick chimney and hearth were covered with clay; but there -was a fire in it. The bed—but we have not got to the bed -yet.</p> - -<p>I suppose it happened very well that we had our provisions -with us, for I saw no cooking nor anything to cook. -I forgot to say, that the inmates when we arrived were a -boy, dressed something like his father, and a girl, whose -single garment—we judged from appearances—was a home-spun -cotton frock, not white, though I think it had never -been dyed. Both were barefoot. They might be twelve -and fourteen years old.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span></p> - -<p>"Whar's yer mammy?"</p> - -<p>"Mom's went over to Jake Smith's; and she haint never -come home yit. I reckon she's agwine to stay all night."</p> - -<p>I don't know what made me think so, but I remember I -<i>did</i> rather surmise that it was just as well for us. <i>Something</i> -made me think of a shrew.</p> - -<p>Presently, while my wife was spreading the table (i.e. a -short bench, usually a seat) for our supper, I observed the -old man seated on something, with a plate on his knees, -plying his hunting-knife on some cold meat and corn bread -for his. I suppose the children had eaten before our arrival. -We had, I believe, our provision-box and an inverted half -bushel for seats, and ate our supper with commendable appetites; -for by this time I think my wife's fears were sensibly -abated. At length bedtime came, and what should -be done? There was a bed, or something like one, in a -corner, but that would hardly accommodate all five of us -and the baby. Soon, however, that doubt was solved. The -girl spread a pallet on the floor, taking the straw bed for -the purpose; and the feather bed—yes, <i>feather</i> bed—was -made up on the bedstead for us. That bedstead would be -a curious affair, doubtless, in a Philadelphia furniture store. -I will endeavour to describe it. It consisted of one post and -three rails; or rather, what was intended to correspond with -those parts of a bedstead. The post aforesaid was a round -pole, with the bark on, reaching from the floor to the joist -or rafter, inserted at top and bottom into auger-holes. At -a convenient height, a branch cut off not quite close on each -of two sides, formed a rest for two of the poles that served -for a side and foot rail, the other end being inserted in auger-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span>holes -in the logs which constituted the wall of the house. One -end of the other side-rail rested on the foot-rail. Across the -two longest poles, or side-rails, split clapboards rested; and -on the scaffold thus formed, the bed was made. I remember -that it was comparatively clean; and the bedstead being -quite elastic, and my wife's fears now entirely removed by -the cheerful consent of our host to unite in family devotion, -we slept well and soundly: while the family reposed no -doubt quite as sweetly on their bed on the floor.</p> - -<p>After we had breakfasted, our host, for whom we saw no -more preparation than on the night before, piloted us through -a grove of tall trees to the Kaskaskia Road, and pointed out -our course; when we went on our way rejoicing, and saw -that day, for the first time, a herd of seven wild deer together.</p> - -<p>But the old man! What became of him? Didn't you -pay him?</p> - -<p>He turned homeward, and we saw him no more. We -did pay him his full charge, amounting to twenty-five cents!</p> - -<p>I do not think my wife was ever afraid of a man after -that, because he looked rough in his dress. As for Amy, -she had the hooping-cough; I don't remember how soon, -but she survived it; and has weaned her eighth baby.</p> - -<p>Does the reader want an apology for a dull story?</p> - -<p>"Story—God bless you, I have none to tell."</p> - -<p>I could have <i>made</i> one, embellished with various incidents; -could have had a rifle pointed, or frozen all our hands and -feet at least, "or anything else that's agreeable;" but it -would not then have been, as it is now, the simple truth.</p> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>A NIGHT IN NAZARETH.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MARY YOUNG.</p> - - -<blockquote> -<p>"But while he thought on these things, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a -dream, saying, Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife; for that which is -conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost."—<span class="smcap">Matthew</span> i. 20.</p> -</blockquote> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Stern passions rose, and won wild mastery</div> -<div class="i0">In Joseph's breast. He wandered darkly on,</div> -<div class="i0">From the calm fountain and the olive grove,</div> -<div class="i0">Toward the wilderness, as he would find</div> -<div class="i0">Room for the ocean tumult of his thoughts.</div> -<div class="i0">Long had he loved her with a matchless love,</div> -<div class="i0">Deep as his nature, truthful as his truth;</div> -<div class="i0">And she was his—by every sacred tie—</div> -<div class="i0">His own, espoused; though ever still had dwelt</div> -<div class="i0">On Mary's thoughtful brow a chastening spell,</div> -<div class="i0">That shamed to stillness all life's throbbing pulses:</div> -<div class="i0">Or, if his words grew passion, there would steal</div> -<div class="i0">To her large, azure eye a startled glance</div> -<div class="i0">Of sad, deep questioning, and she would turn</div> -<div class="i0">Appealingly to heaven, with trembling tears—</div> -<div class="i0">Yet was it she—the very same he saw,</div> -<div class="i0">Writ o'er with all the foul name of a wanton.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">One fearful word broke from the quivering lips</div> -<div class="i0">Of the young Hebrew, as at last alone,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span> -<div class="i0">By the dark base of a high, shadowy rock,</div> -<div class="i0">He sank in agony; and then he bent</div> -<div class="i0">His forehead down to the cool, mossy turf,</div> -<div class="i0">And lay there silently. Light, creeping plants,</div> -<div class="i0">And one long spray of the white thornless rose,</div> -<div class="i0">Stooped low, and swayed above him; a soft sound</div> -<div class="i0">Of far, sweet, breezy whisperings wooed his ear,</div> -<div class="i0">Till gentler thoughts stole to him, and he wept.</div> -<div class="i0">Ere long his ear heard not: all things around,</div> -<div class="i0">The present and the past—the painful past—</div> -<div class="i0">Became as though they were not. Joseph lay,</div> -<div class="i0">With eyes closed calmly, and a strange full peace</div> -<div class="i0">Breathed to his spirit's depths; for there was one,</div> -<div class="i0">Fairer and nobler than the sons of earth,</div> -<div class="i0">Bending in kindness o'er him.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i25">Calmly still,</div> -<div class="i0">Although to ecstasy his being drank,</div> -<div class="i0">The fathomless, pure music of the voice</div> -<div class="i0">Heard in that visioned hour, as once again</div> -<div class="i0">He stood by the low portal of the home</div> -<div class="i0">Of Mary. He passed in with noiseless step.</div> -<div class="i0">Through the dim vine-leaves of the lattice</div> -<div class="i0">Not a moonbeam fell, and yet a softer ray</div> -<div class="i0">Than ever streamed from alabaster lamps,</div> -<div class="i0">Lit the white vesture and the upturned face</div> -<div class="i0">Of her who knelt in meekness there. Her lips</div> -<div class="i0">Were motionless, and the slight clasping hands</div> -<div class="i0">Pressed lightly on her bosom, but a high</div> -<div class="i0">Seraphic bliss spoke in the fervent hush</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span> -<div class="i0">Of the pure, radiant features; for she held</div> -<div class="i0">Unsoiled communion with her spirit's lord.</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Slowly away faded that glorious trance,</div> -<div class="i0">And the white lids lifted as though reluctant.</div> -<div class="i0">She looked on Joseph, and a faint, quick flush</div> -<div class="i0">Swept shadowingly her forehead. Woman still,</div> -<div class="i0">She felt, and painfully, that at the bar</div> -<div class="i0">Of manhood's pride, earth had for her no witness.</div> -<div class="i0">But the calm mien, and broad, uncovered brow</div> -<div class="i0">Of Joseph, told no anger. He drew near,</div> -<div class="i0">And knelt beside her; and the hand she gave</div> -<div class="i0">In greeting was pressed close and silently,</div> -<div class="i0">With reverent tenderness, upon his heart.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>TEARS.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY CHARLES D. GARDETTE, M.D.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'Tis said, affliction's deepest sting</div> -<div class="i0">Some token of its pain will bring</div> -<div class="i8">In tears of bitter flow;</div> -<div class="i0">But they who thus judge sorrow's smart,</div> -<div class="i0">Know not the pang that wrings the heart,</div> -<div class="i8">With withering tearless woe!</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The scorching grief that blasts the fount,</div> -<div class="i0">And dries its tears, ere yet they mount,</div> -<div class="i8">To soothe the burning eye;</div> -<div class="i0">That speeds the blood with torrent force</div> -<div class="i0">Through every bursting vein to course,</div> -<div class="i8">Yet leave each life-track dry!</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">The grief that binds with rankling chain</div> -<div class="i0">Each feeling of the heart and brain,</div> -<div class="i8">Save sternness and despair;</div> -<div class="i0">And crushes with relentless hand</div> -<div class="i0">Each hope religion's trust had planned,</div> -<div class="i8">Planting rebellion there!</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Such grief, not one of these have known,</div> -<div class="i0">Who say that flowing tears alone</div> -<div class="i8">Proclaim the bosom's throes!</div> -<div class="i0">Tears are the tokens God designed</div> -<div class="i0">For lighter griefs of heart and mind,</div> -<div class="i8">Such as pure child-life knows;</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And therefore, hath He so ordained</div> -<div class="i0">That infant-tears be not restrained,</div> -<div class="i8">But lightly caused to flow,</div> -<div class="i0">That these, who cannot tell their grief,</div> -<div class="i0">Shall find in weeping, such relief</div> -<div class="i8">As manhood may not know!</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>INCONSTANCY.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY E. M.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">They told me he'd forsake me; that the words</div> -<div class="i0">With which he charmed my very soul away</div> -<div class="i0">Were like the hollow music of a shell,</div> -<div class="i0">That learns to mock the ocean's deeper voice.</div> -<div class="i0">For he had listened to love's tones, until</div> -<div class="i0">His ear and lip, though not his heart, had grown</div> -<div class="i0">Familiar with their melody. Nay, more,—</div> -<div class="i0">They said his very boyhood had been marked</div> -<div class="i0">By worse than a boy's follies; that in youth,</div> -<div class="i0">The season of high hopes, when lesser men</div> -<div class="i0">Put on their manhood, as a monarch's heir</div> -<div class="i0">Rich robes and royalty, his poor ambition</div> -<div class="i0">Asked but new charms and pleasures; newer loves;</div> -<div class="i0">New lips to smile until their sweetness palled,</div> -<div class="i0">And softer hands to clasp his own, until</div> -<div class="i0">He wearied even of so light a fetter.</div> -<div class="i0">Thus did they pluck me from him, but in vain;</div> -<div class="i0">For when did warning stay a woman's heart?</div> -<div class="i0">I knew all this, and yet I trusted him.</div> -<div class="i0">Yea, with a child's blind faith I gave my fate</div> -<div class="i0">Into his hands, content that he should know</div> -<div class="i0">How absolute his power and my weakness.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span> -<div class="i0">Speak not of pride, I never felt its lash.</div> -<div class="i0">There is no place for fallen Lucifer</div> -<div class="i0">In the pure heaven of a sinless love.</div> -<div class="i0">And when he left me, as they said he would,</div> -<div class="i0">My spirit had no room for aught save grief.</div> -<div class="i0">Giving the lie to my own conscious heart,</div> -<div class="i0">I taxed stern truth with falsehood to the last.</div> -<div class="i0">But when to doubt was madness, when, perforce,</div> -<div class="i0">Even from my credulous eyes the scales were fallen,</div> -<div class="i0">What was the cold scorn of a thousand worlds</div> -<div class="i0">To the one thought, that for a counterfeit</div> -<div class="i0">I'd staked my woman's all of love—and lost!</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr /> - - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>CROSSING THE TIDE.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center in0">BY MISS PHŒBE CAREY.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Fainter, fainter, all the while</div> -<div class="i0">On us beams her patient smile;</div> -<div class="i0">Brighter as each day returns,</div> -<div class="i0">In her cheek the crimson burns;</div> -<div class="i0">And her tearful, fond caress</div> -<div class="i0">Hath more loving tenderness,—</div> -<div class="i0">Saviour, Saviour, unto her</div> -<div class="i0">Draw thou near, and minister!</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">And when on the crumbling sand</div> -<div class="i0">Of life's shore her feet shall stand;</div> -<div class="i0">When the death-stream's moaning surge</div> -<div class="i0">Sings for her its solemn dirge,</div> -<div class="i0">And our earthly love would shrink,</div> -<div class="i0">Trembling, backward from the brink.</div> -<div class="i0">Saviour, Saviour, take her hand,</div> -<div class="i0">That her feet may safely stand!</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Firmly hold it in thine own,</div> -<div class="i0">Gently, gently lead her down;</div> -<div class="i0">And when o'er the solemn sea</div> -<div class="i0">Safely she shall walk with thee,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span> -<div class="i0">Nearing to that other shore.</div> -<div class="i0">Whence a voice hath called her o'er.</div> -<div class="i0">Saviour, Saviour, from the tide,</div> -<div class="i0">Aid her up the heavenly side!</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">Lead her on that burning way,</div> -<div class="i0">Brighter than the path of day,</div> -<div class="i0">Where a thousand saints have trod</div> -<div class="i0">To the city of our God;</div> -<div class="i0">Where a thousand martyrs came</div> -<div class="i0">Shining on a path of flame;</div> -<div class="i0">Saviour, till her wanderings cease</div> -<div class="i0">On the eternal hills of peace.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center p2t in0">THE END.</p> - - - - -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak p1">Transcriber's Note</h2> - -<p>Footnotes have been placed at end of their respective chapter, poem or note.</p> - -<p> Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations -in hyphenation have been standardised but all other spelling and -punctuation remains unchanged.</p> -</div> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Iris, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IRIS *** - -***** This file should be named 55942-h.htm or 55942-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/9/4/55942/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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