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such dangers ? Do not say madly, my dear Rose, he replied, since I shall be accompanied by a gallant band of my young mountain neighbors, whose fiery spirits will no longer submit to the outrages of these blood-thirsty Indians, to whom you know the cause of my private enmity. Memory is ever reverting to the horrid scenes of my
childhood. The lapse of years are forgotten, and again I behold my parents weltering in their blood.
I hear their shrieks of agony, and the savages' wild yell of triumph, rendered doubly horrible by their gleaming tomahawks and painted faces. I can still see the hissing flames, which cast a lurid glare on the overhanging canopy of night. The recollection of this scene chills my blood, and the whisperings of vengeance nerve my arm to deal deadly blows upon the murderers. He ceased this strain of exciting thoughts, and applied himself to the more pleasant task of soothing his lovely and weeping companion.
Then addressing the elder gentleman, he informed him that a number of his companions had appointed a meeting to concert measures for checking the depredations of the Indians. After receiving some useful advice, he bade them adieu, and hurried away.
While he is holding a council of war with his friends we will take the opportunity of presenting a brief sketch of the life and circumstances of the principal characters included in our little tale. Mr. Graham had been a citizen of wealth and respectability in Virginia, but meeting with a sudden reverse of fortune, had bid adieu to his native State, and taken refuge in the mountainous and thinly setttled regions of East Tennessee. His only companion was his young and lovely daughter Rose. The history of Henry Lesly we have already sketched in his own words. His father was a near neighbor and intimate friend of Mr. Graham. The Indians, in one of their inroads, had massacred all of Mr. Lesly's family, with the exception of Henry, who had escaped and found a home with his father's friend. The history of the Indian, above mentioned, was one of sadness. He had not only seen his offspring wither and fade away, but witnessed the entire destruction of his nation. More humiliating still, from a chief he had become a wandering outcast. While on a trading visit, his tribe had been assailed by that of a neighboring chief. The attack proved fatal. All were slain and their wigwams burned. On his return he found his village a smouldering heap of ruins, and himself an outcast. Since then he had lived sometimes in the boundless forest, and occasionally in the house of Mr. Graham. He still cherished the hope of avenging the massacre of his nation.
We will now follow Henry Lesly to the appointed place of rendezvous. On his arrival, he found about fisty young mountaineers, by whom he was hailed as leader of the enterprise. After expressing his thanks for their confidence, he addressed them in language fiery and eloquent. He reminded them of their murdered parents and kindred; the unpunished insolence and cruelty of the Indians; the fear and anxiety which now prevailed; the alarm caused by the report of a gun, or the stillness of night being broken by the watch-dog's bark; he then painted in brilliant colors the happiness to be enjoyed
during times of peace and tranquillity. Before this desirable object could be obtained, he told them the Indians must be exterminated. Seeing that his words had inflamed their breasts, he concluded by exhorting them to restore peace and happiness to their friends. His course was cheerfully adopted, and they resolved to march immediately against the Indian village, which was situated in a valley about twenty miles distant,
The eye of mortal never rested upon a more gallant cavalcade than that of our young hero. Every cheek was flushed, and every heart was filled with chivalrous daring. The spirited chargers stood pawing and champing the bit, as though they had "snuffed the battle from afar," and at the word of command pranced through the forest, making the earth rebound at every spring. The company advanced thus for a few hours, with little or no precaution. Their march then became less boisterous. Having reached a secure hiding place, they resolved to halt, now distant a few miles from the village, and wait until night had thrown her sable veil over the surrounding hills. After several hours of impatience they had the satisfaction of seeing the shadows begin to lengthen, and at intervals hearing the hootings of distant owls. At length the silvery moon peeped through the overhanging trees, and they commenced their deadly march.
Every thing conspired to favor their purpose. The devoted village was hushed in silence-not a sentinel was abroad. The company separated, in order to make an attack from every quarter simultaneously. The signal was given, and the work of death commenced. The alarmed warriors rush from their wigwams with tomahawks in hand. Twenty of their number fall at the first discharge. Rifle balls pour upon them from every side. Driven to desperation, they shout the war-whoop and grapple with their white antagonists. Now begins the tug of war. The shrill report of rifles, the clashing of tomahawks, the yell of despair, the groans of the dying, the shout of victory, the shrieks of women, and the cries of children, are mingled together, forming a deafening sound of horror. The firing ceases and the rifle butts become weapons of death. The wigwams take fire, the forked flames crackle over their heads, the dusky warriors cover the earth, their eyes sealed with death. The few who survive escape, and the battle is over. The flames are dying out, and now the scene appalls the hearts of the victors. The bloody slain lie strewed before them. The stillness of night is now and then broken by the groans of some dying wretch and the howling of wolves who have scented their prey. Such is the work of man's hands, when influenced by passion. The conquerors buried their dead companions, watering their graves with tears of brotherly grief.
They then commenced their march homewards. Their progress was slow, thoughtsul, and melancholy. They took the direction towards Mr. Graham's dwelling, intending to call and give the result of their hairbrained adventure. Day was dawning, when they were within a few hundred yards of the dwelling: At this time a shrill shriek of agony pierced their hearts. They dashed forward, and in a few min
utes the horrid sight broke upon their view. The roof of the house was covered with flames. At their approach two Indian warriors, whom they recognized as some of their late antagonists, who had fled and taken this means of revenge, rushed out, bearing the bloody scalp of Mr. Graham. Another followed, holding in his arms the unconscious Rose. They fled towards the precipice—the young men rushed forward in pursuit—they fired, and two Indians fell; the third continued to fly with his lovely burden. At length he reached the edge of the precipice, with his pursuers some sixty yards in the rear. He there turned, and a demoniac smile of exultation lightened up his dusky features. He gave them to understand, that if any one approached he would leap over the precipice with his captive. He stood, like a lion at bay, determined to die before he would yield. The young men stood looking on in horror, each minute expecting him to make the fatal leap. Henry Lesly gazed on his beloved with agonized feelings. He saw that to attempt her rescue would ensure her death. He raised his rifle, but the wily chief shielded himself with the drooping form of Rose. While they thus stood, the friendly Indian, whom we mentioned, was seen to emerge from beneath the precipice. He springs upon the hated chief who had destroyed his nation. The young girl was released, and fell fainting to the earth. The two Indians grappled with each other. Being unable to employ the tomahawk, each strove to drag the other to the precipice. Several of the young men rushed forward to save them, but they were too late. Closely clasped, they plunged into the yawning abyss. One dull, heavy sound was heard, and all was over. In explanation of the appearance of the friendly Indian, we will say a few words. He, seeing the danger to which Rose was exposed, had darted into the woods. Reaching the foot of the precipice, he clambered up by making a foothold of the crevices and grasping the projecting points. Rose soon recovered from her swoon, by the tender care of her lover. For some months sorrow, on account of the father's death, spread a gentle mel. ancholy over her sweet face. When time had soothed her grief, she gave her heart and hand to Henry Lesly. But they never forgot the services of the friendly Indian chief, whom they caused to be buried a few paces distant from the place of his death. A moss-covered mound is still shown as his grave.
W. W. H.
A STRANGE world, verily, thought I, when first I set my hesitating foot upon its borders ! so full of every fancy, whim, conceit, and habit; the whole a perfect panorama, with whose view none can possibly tire or be satiated. I had in my secluded and somewhat sentimental quietude brooded over its troubles, its terrible warfares, its traitorous seductions, and its slavish customs ; I had pictured out in my crazy head, as I sat alone, staring into my fire of a cold night, the agonizing conflicts to be experienced with ruffian dispositions, the serpent-like threats to be guarded against even among those I might be obliged by the customs of society to call my friends, and the terrible temptations I should have to resist, ere I could dare to call myself a free man.
Ah, how much time might be saved by only fencing in more closely the bodies of this intoxicating dream-land! I am willing with others to add my testimony to the belief, that it certainly is the coveted region for the immigration of minds of certain susceptibilities, and that even the most rugged dispositions and acrimonious tempers have found here a sort of temporary Elysium. So far as this softening influence extends this way, well; but it is lamentable to find so many willingly yielding up to its narcotic influence talents and tempers that, away from its deceitful wiles, would command admiration in the field of active exertion. Yet let me not lament too much over the misfortunes of others. Every man has troubles of his own, and he who meets them most courageously and readily will always show himself the most of a man. It is indeed strange how soon these practical habits of the world will fasten themselves on a person; he at first comes in contact with dispositions that lead him instantly to despise those who make them, and, in the chivalrous impulses of his young feelings, to swear he will have nothing to do with such persons. But as his observation extends, he sees every one around him more or less infected with this mania of selfishness and duplicity. Perhaps the commonness of it gradually accustoms him to its presence, and he insensibly begins to compare himself with others about him. If he look unsparingly sharp, with a willing readiness to detect in himself what may be the great obstacle to his perfect amalgamation with the feelings and pursuits of others, rarely does he fail to find it. He soon sees that with all due allowance for the common weaknesses of mankind, they have been rated by him in a different position from their comparative merits. He sees that his prejudices, or something akin to his feelings, have run far in advance of his actual experience and judgment. He has made out in his dream-land a beautiful theory of life, but finds that its destruction is mainly owing to the fineness of the tissues with which he woye it. He has blown a large and beautiful bubble, variegated with all the heavenly tints of the rainbow, with its oily clouds scudding over its glassy surface, only to see it burst into nothingness at the approach of the first wind of heaven. Perhaps, after all, this ardent expectation in
regard to the coming scenes of life, or, on the other hand, this early melancholy and foreboding respecting its troubles, is a judicious school for the acquisition of early experience; we can with truth say it is, if the difference between the anticipations and the real impressions be turned with a steady hand to a philosophical account.
To mention some of the petted ideas I had brought away with me from “ Dream-land,” would perhaps occasion a smile, could you see how next to alınost impossible it is to measure or regulate my practice by such seedlings of speculations and whimsicalities, (that is, in the transcendental way,) as I had somehow one night dreamed of the necessity of forming my estimate of a man's character by the length and relative bearing of his nose. Think of it, friends! A man's nose the prognostication of his fortunes. I thought myself possessed of at least one hobby, and, as I have some natural gifts, I determined to ride it bareback and thoroughly; and there is no one of my acquaintance but nose I have so. I had divided up my classes of human kind rather curiously, I confess, and in a way I am at an ulter loss now to account for. For instance: my ranks were filled somewhat in the wise of this rough sketch. If I had occasion to see a man more often in need of a pocket-handkerchief than a pocket-book, I set him down among the sarpients ; or if I had been professedly called on to classify such men for military uses, I should have been apt to have stationed them in the rear of any army, as capable of doing the most effective running. Then there were those everywhere about me, whose avocation failed not to persecute me by night as well as by day! I mean the snuff-takers ;—those eternal feeders of the noses, who seem, for want of something wherewith to feed their mouth, to have taken to glutting the cavities above it! These I most generally ranked among the rum-drinkers, as being equally with them fond of the “old yaller.” If I met a man statedly in the streets, who statedly made it a point to blow his nose, I should immediately set him down as irremediably afflicted with the blews.
But my sentiments did not run very far into the cavas latebras of this emphatic expression of every man's face. My speculations had mostly their dealings with the outside appearance of this important characteristic of man, and I allowed them to carry me off with a loose rein indeed. Every man I met with, found in me a perfect nose-gay-zer! I never was quiet, except when on the exciting study of my favorite character, and then, as an Irishman would say, I was not quiet at all. Whenever my lucky, or unlucky stars, found me in the sentimental enjoyment of the society of a young lady, seated, perhaps, near me on a sofa, I invariably find myself spanning the dimensions of her nose! and in consequence of sitting so much, as I have, alone in my meditations, I found I was fast growing crosseyed. I knew not why it was, but so it was accounted for: my eyes were riveted on some nose or other continually.
That there is a certain glory connected with a handsome, well-turned and expressive nose, is no longer left a matter of doubt. Those, whom fame has laid away on some of her high shelves, are spoken of