LEWIS
H. C. HICKQg, Editor,
an. WORDEW, Printer.
LEWISDUBO CHRONICLE
4 iwnsrwni!rr ' orit,
luucd on Wednesday morning at Lemisburg,
Union county, Pennsylcanic.
TF.R VS. M per Tr, for cash actually in ndTanee;
1 li if paid witliin tliree unntus: 2,Ou if paid within a
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ingle Mnbm. Subscriptions for fix month, or lew. to
nepaid in adtanee. Discontinuances optional with the
PublUher, except when the year Is paid up.
AsvEaTl.msvra hmdwoiely inserted at SO cents per
inara,one week, fl jonr wet'aa. j -i-iitV.i.
- w,,J,. t; tor a eear. Mercantile adeerUse.
a W n. exceeding one fourth of a column, $10 a, year.
JOB WORK and casual edeertuemenU to to paid for
0.xo:S;.ll bjeel. f ee-eral into
rest not within th. raor of part, or sectarian contest
All letter ut oome p-iet-paid. accompanied by the real
addrNS of the writer, to receive attention. -Tnoe
le'etinc exelonirelv to tlie. Editorial IV-partment. to be di
ncted to llnir llmxoi. Ki- Atf-tor-and those on
Office on Market street, be-t w-it -rr..l xi J Tlltrrt. over
the Fo4mce. O. -V ORUKN, Proprietor.
" Tell Her to meet He there.
T MISS K. . lirCBJLRB.
Tell hr. oh. tell her bow
l.ifc-s sands ebb fa-t away,
T'dl her that on my brow
' Is the ml of .ore decay.
Tell her tbeearth look, bright.
And it scenes are pa-sin.! fir :
There V a purer one of light
Tell her to meet me there.
Tell her w oft hare gaud
Upou yon i tarry aky,
In Lore'' fin, early days,
Ne'er thinking one would die.
Tell her our b art were twined
Into a wreath sefair.
Cf it. bliunt we ni rer dreamed
- Tell her to meet mo there."
Tell her. oh. tell her to".
There pressing at my heart
A weiirtit I new knew
Till from loreJ one n led to part.
Tell h. r tliat wlien she hear
I "ve left tbia world of rare.
To abed no wto wine tear.
. -IeU her to meat me there."
Tell her my Sartor's lore
My dvine. pulses thrill
Bet all other thine above,
I lore, I lore ber still.
Tell her the breath ot fame
la a bubble ou the air
To a bese'inii .erred name
- Tell ber to meet me there.
"Tell her the falline li arcs
Arflniinwiiufrnc
Silt .r lliem who e'er crieres,
Sprieff aid re-role the troc
Tell her BIT purlin foul
Bnars ou the :nnof prayer,
Nnt di-tant far the. pal
- Tell ber r meet me llm
Costly Furnishing.
Many lovk up capital which would save
. . - ..., V. !n r-vrlriivarrant
...cm two r. j
luiiium. J .
l TIVTTr I'XIHMirc 111 ll"H."
, .. " . . t hovc the 1
while one isn j j
furnishing,
meed of "business facilities," causes embar
rassments which arc very unjustly charged
upon the timet. -Gold ad silver in table
services, ceases to bo wsefeiL They arc not
. ..... i 1 : ml.rll t e.Tttf.n-
current, out a iauuaij ,
times costing in interest lost, -chat should j art Tor tnc -u TZ Z
,be enough to pay the rent of the bouse. nature. And were it not for these path-MaLmetasLcwdimPostoT,laidmanyUays-K
re .ocessary te render the
jMahomcas - , hm acccssiblc, it would require no great
rr" sEes rsi. - . . -
mv agan cc. . . .;w 1 to fiuicr himself in the primitive forest,
of 'Jartarius 10 wnocr
WpM;'i..j,uLu.K.j
Oricntials use wooden and other cheap ves-!
sels. Some, however, base discovered a wn
a 3
letter
n m-atifv their vanity, and still in
a tw1 .1. . .. .e-t
,och e 1 JJX. The 1
basins, &C-, w.iy tj g' j
oir( of the spoon r
tcr.tbo Wtewtrj "
. a a. V.A IHAAfl ai nPW.
inlaid with pr - 1 ,! the Indian hunter bounding from their pressed not down nor rustled beneath his they should be prospered in all their un
Wl is sometimes made of agate, amber, " i:j:! 1 ... j. j :...:.: .1.. i: e
it some sucu w
t 1.e ame.4.;..1
Thus Mus-i
,.lnn. manage to follow the tetter, tut
follow
..r,v tlm .Jrit. inst as our ownlwg"
j " ,
winl when inclKied to extravagance,
people, w uen MR. t
Tan hold themselves beliiud evasions and
TMies.
No man,1iowcver,Chri?tian, Mobomedan ,
or Pagan, can safely lock up in unconvcr- j
tible investments what he necos in nis
business. No matter what expensive
nobby we ride, it is a dangerous one, if we
forget poor Richard's caution,
- Ere fanej yon toneoit, consult your pnrat."
Jaded and anxious faces are reflected from
too many splendid mirrors, and pride and
luxury mar the comfort of many a house
hold, which by prudence might be chcerfuL
Arthur's llov.e Gai'tle.
Value given Cotton by Transformation.
The enormous value given w comm
ita various transformations, is shown in the j
an
tide
nf lace, of which there is at the
London Exhibition, doubtless, a richer dis-
nlav than the world ever saw together be
t in.i;9 Prance. Belgium. England
are vieing for supremacy in this manufac- placed bis ponderous bow into the hands j
: tare. A manufacturer furnished samples 0f m infant boy, and taught him" to speed
of one pound of cotton spun into 900 hiinks, j the feathered arrow, and wield the toma
of 840 yards each, making a distance in j hawk 1 Where is the young bravo who in
all of 430 miles, should the single thread ; tjCSe wjld retreats so often told his tale of
be extended to its utmost Another firm i i0VCj poured into the car of the Indian
exhibited 4200 hanks, of the same number , g-iri fa uniin passioned vows? Where are
of yards each, froRi a single pound of j they who made these hills and mountains
. 1 'I - I .,.. ,1 la 1 AIL n o are k 11 A 4tTl eVUAfl
lore. c '
cotton. The first then cxBiwieu oue jwuiiu
f witinn CTran into a thread 2000 miles
long, which shows the perfection to which
cotton machinery has arrived. Brussels
lace, all made from cotton, worth 200
sterling ($1000) per yard. A large shawl
made in France for the Duchess of Suth
.eiland, is exhibited, the cost of which is
1000 sterling. ; A bridal dress is shown
for which the owner wants 5000. The
girl who wrought at it the first three years
beeame blind from the heavy task it put
upon her eyes. Just think of simple han
diwork enhancing the value of a shilling's
worth of cotton to 125,000!
A pint of water, converted into steam,
From Me R&lford Inquirer.
LEGEND OF THE SPRING.
BY DR. CHARLES X. HICKOK.
Be then a apirlt of health or goblin damned.
Brim; with tiiee airs from heaven or blaau from hell,
It thy intrnts wicked or eharitahle,
Thon eomVt in fneb a questionable shape
That I will speak to thee ! main.
It was on the afternoon of one of those
excessively hot days for which the last
year will long be remembered, that I had
occasion to pay a visit to the celebrated
mineral spring in the vicinity of BedforJ.
All nature wore the appearance of languor.
The leaves of the green corn, instead of
raising their long spear points to arustling
brcczo, hung motionless, like withered
moss from their bending stalks, the her
bage appeared burnt and parched as if by
fire, the herJs sought the shade, or, pant
ing, betook themselves to the cool brook
side ; not a zephyr's breath moved the
forest boughs, nor hummed its accustomed
chant amid the pine tops ; not a ripple dis
turbed the surface of the little artificial
lake where the enchanted waters of the
health-giving spring pour their tribute;
the speckled trout lay reposing under his
mossy awing, and even the goddess of the
fountain appeared to have yielded to the
general infection, for the jet over which
she presides played languidly through the
air, and fell sprayless and less noisily than
is its wont into its pebbly bed. The long
eolonade of the Springs Hotel was deserted, i
The busy crowd that thronged it in the! sight by the intervening hill, here flowing
morning, were dispersed to their couches, gluggishly by the cultivated fields, there
to enjoy their siesta, and find repose for ;?rUshing and foaming o'er its rocky bed in
the dissipations and fatigue of the drawing-' the wild forest, and anon receding entirely
rooms in the evening. Finding no com-; from the sight, it passes from the valley
pany, nor anything else to engross my at-
tention, I treated myself to the luxury ot i
a bath and then attempted the Herculean!
ict nf nilirrimam to the Summer House I
on the summit of Constitution IlilL
- ft -c i
With the exception of the artificial
I , .1 1 Ml 1 1 .....aAOT.A.l in
DStUWayS, miS mil BUS ut:ca iura.s.vis .u
- N has
(. -
been displaced, as is too often the case on
.... . r i :.-
account of its want of regularity, not
dead lo has been touched; the underbrush
grows in all its wild and tangled luxuri
ance, enabling the visitor, by the transition
of a few steps, to change tie taroencss of
. .
myself:
union" 111 e
Iiu-uuia u ." " 7
on sacred ground, whore yet
A. V S va. uvw " I CJ -
dwell the ;
Tir'1 ,10st3 of the lpPartcd nations, who,
Wp lived, and acted, ana aica ; who
- w - 1
As I turned at the numerous bending, of:
iv;n,i1:an rau.scwavs. and cast my
lhcW dccp pepee views, 1 1
:mog t cspected to see the gaunt form of i
tuicsvct iwiuuib, v o o.
. 1 . . . 1. n . run rnv 1 nineii eiiuiuu i
to heaT reverberating
fa ...... nf f, " ;
warrior But nau"H.jT)eared to disturo
warrior. iui iaucukfj jn,
, startled my bcanng ;
all was silent as the grave ; not a cricket s
a... ' W
chirp broke in upon the stillness ; even
the sound of my own footsteps was un
heeded I deeply pondered on the chang
es which the last century had wrought in
the scene; and I tried in fancy to recall
the picture in all its wild magnificence,
ere rt had dared to deform its beauty by
her sacrilegious touch.
Where (I asked my thoughts,) are the
wiffwam homes that studded yon bright
green, where now the uncouth castles of
the white man rear their proua ironis :
Where is the cheerful song of the Indian
mother who there tilled her field of tender
: corn
and watched with joyful eyes the
gambols of her little ones, or went out to
1 mee,t her warrior lord ana welcome uib
rctnrn from the hunt or conquest ? Where
;s t
is the noble chieftain who, with the hasc,
!Vnfc in his wiirwam door at sunset and
I a ...
, eiofjncni, ana gave mese in;j
with their shouts of triumph and victory ?
As nam the reeks and trees,
The tout respensiTe spoke, now lewd and King,
Knw sealing from this etas; ; now there again,
KroWronder glad. ; now clear and full, now wit,
Aad softer stilt until whisper eoases
To tell, how like this Serlu. echo, an
The things of time.
Alas! they are all gone, the wigwams
are in ashes ; that mother and her little
brood have lone been dwellers in the spirit
land, and where they played, the child of
the pale face holds his sports. 1 he re
treat of the lovers is now thronged by
sickly sensualists, the maiden's charms
have fled, the warrior's arm is in the dust,
his bow string is dissevered, and his toma
hawk corroded by the rust of years; and
where he Mi ba-gtoj BWe;
BURG
LEWISBURG, UNION COUNTY, PENN., WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 22, 1851.
manly pride, the effeminate city exquisite
struts in all his borrowed plumes, as if in
contemptible contrast of the past and pres
ent years the red man and the pale race.
Occupied by such thoughts as these, I
found myself, almost before I was aware of
it, at the Summer House, and, weary and
warm, I threw myself on one of the rustic
benehes,and pursued my solitary thoughts
undisturbed.
The view from the Summer ITousc is
magnificent in the extreme. The edifice
stands on the brow of the hill, on the ex
treme poiut of its summit, where it ex-
tends like a promontory into the surround'
ing valley. A few ot the largest trees
have been removed from the slope of the
hill in the direction facing the vale, for the
purpose of renderingthe view less obstruc
ted; ou all other sides, naught is seen but
the wild beauty of the dense forest From
the open space, the distant mountains are
seen on the north, east, and west, rising
in bold, rugged majesty, crag on crag, tier
on tier, like a vast ampithcatre formed for
the assembly of a universe, until the top
most wall, the tall, hoar summit of tho
giant Alleghany, crowning the mighty pile,
in the dim distance, kisses the clouds, and
like the scarce perceptible blending of two
almost equal shades, joins earth with hea
ven. In the nearer landscape, the roman-
tic Juniata winds, now like a thread of
gjlver through the valley, now hidden from
through a gorge in the mountains, on its
Way to the mighty ocean. JNearer, at tnc
distance of a mile, St. Thomas Church
w;li its tall sDire and cross, strikes the
vision, embedded in a cluster ot trees, tuo
- , ,
rest of the village being hid by the neigh
boring hills;) and still nearer, just at the ,
base of the hill, lies the little lake with its !
tiny isle of Emerald Green, and the music j tribes came and departed since their time,
. ; e . r,m.iisiti1iia.r 01 -.,.., .r y,a
nf its nutlet, as it forms a foamy cascade
I , i i:l. 1.a
over tho tocks, reacnes tue cur uw mo
distant lulling murmurs of a gentle breeze.
A rustic mill, and a lofty and ponderous
ledge of rocks beyond, and the brook and
arbored road winding through the vale be
low, complete the enchanting prospect
As I lay musing, a misty indistinctness
gathered over the scene ; strange, shape
less forms hovered around me, none of
which I was able clearly to define While
I was endeavoring to account for what I
Raw.mv attention was arrested by the ap-
.f - -
ncarance of a tall, shadowy hgure that
emerged from tho thicket near by, and ap-
.... .
preached me. it was mai an oiu watt.
. . a aa . a . 1.1 1 1
ty crcct form. His long, straight hair
-M white as snow, but his step was light
, elastic, and as he drew nearer with a
1 tread, I noticed that the leaves
vntirnr
Over his shoulders was wrapped
tvi..
blanket, made from the inner
7 i:n, .ml f,t were
- , -
clothed in leggins made of the untanned
skin of the wild cat and moccasins of the
same material, ornamented with tufts of
stained horse hair. Encircling his head,
neck, and wrists, were chains formed with
the tusks of the wolf, connected with huge
links of shining gold; a single plume from
the eagle's wing drooped over his brow ;
in one hand he carried a bow of large di
mensions, in the other an arrow. A pon
dcrous stone tomahawk was strung in his
belt, and over his shoulders, suspended by
the skin of an enormous rattlesnake, was
a-quiver of panther skin filled with feath
ered arrows.
I was startled, and about to raise myself,
but as the apparition drew nearer, I saw
that I had nothing more to fear ; his sad,
benevolent countenance indicated no harm,
and had it been otherwise, his bow string
was broken, and the shaft of his arrow
bent and wonn eaten. When he came op
posite me, he paused and eyed me for some
moments in silence with a mournful ex
pression, a deep drawn sigh heaved his
breast, be shook his head and passing on
soon vanished from my sight. Ere I had
recovered from the reverie into which my
surprise had thrown me, I sawhim coming j
back ; he paused again where I lay, and
regarded me with the same sad, melan
choly look, sighed heavily and passed on
as before ; nor was my astonishment di
minished, when I saw him approach the
third time, and fix upon me his mournful
gaze, more sad and grief-like than before;
deeper sighs struggled for utterance, and
down each furrowed cheek trickled a
scalding tear; wondering and afraid, I de
termined to accost him, but my stiffened
tongue needed not to make the exertion to
break its bondage, for the figure raised its
hand as if to enjoin silence, and with im
pressive solemnity thus addressed me
"Son of the pale lace, thon see'st the
red man weep ; 'tis not his nature, but the
heart of the red man is full of sorrow.
i "Son of the pale face, the red man
reads thy heart, and it is friendly to his
race. There is kindness for him in thy
breast. Thou hast had thy bosom filled
with indignation at the recital of his
wrongs. Thou hast shed the tear of sym
pathy for his grievances. His sad and
hopeless condition has made thy cheek
blush for those of thy nation by whose
wrong he has been degraded. His injuries
have caused thy young blood to boil, and
thine eye to flash with anger. The red
man knows this, and he is grateful. He
would recompense thee and show thee how
to avoid much sorrow. Then listen, son
of the pale face, and let the red man's
voice teach thee wisdom; let the experi
ence of the past warn thee of the future.
Man comes and goes ; has birth, and dies;
has joy, and ruin and sorrow often follow
in the track of pleasure ; but learn thou,
that in his ojvn evil nature are the elements
of his ruin contained, and in his fall his
own bad passions arc often the workers of
his destruction. Tho Great Spirit has
said it, and it shall be so.
''Son of the white man, cherish not
anger, hatred, nor revenge ; for, like the
hot blasts of wind in the dog days, shall
they draw up thy young blood if they be
harbored in thy breast. These passions
entered the heart of the young chief of a
mighty nation, whose hunting grounds lay
among these hills and mountains, many,
many moons ago, or never would the pale
face have trodden here, and the sickly vic
tim of vice have tainted this pure air with
his fetid breath. Here yet would the
child of the red men have sported. Here
yet would the wild chase have been kept
Up and the dance of triumph acd victory
perpetuated
Son of tho pale face, listen.
"Manv hundred moons ago, a powerful
nation dwelt here. The Ka-ma-was were
a inightv tribe. There names
been forgotten, and their deeds
passed from the memory of man. Many
before the Shawnees were masters of his
soil the Shawnee has disappeared, and
the white man holds his sway, but none
were like the Ka-ma-was, successful in
battle. The power of their foes was ex
erted for naught, for the Great Spirit was
their friend. The arrows of their enemies
were poisoned in vain, for the antidote was
here.
"Thou hast drank of the spring where
the sickly pale face resorts for health.
That spring has lost much of its power;
the enchantment of its waters has departed;
health is still in its tide, but the strength
of its glory is fled. That spring was the
Ka-ma-was' safe-guard, for him it was cre
ated. "Listen, pale face.
"Wa-kon-Tun-kah, the Good Spirit, re
vealed himself to a wise prophet of the Kama-was,
and with him made a covenant
that they should be his favorite tribe; that
dertakings, victorious in the repulsion of
their enemies, successful in the bunt, wise
in council, and fleet in the chase. The
poisoned arrows of their foes should not
harm them, for a draught from the spring
should render the poison inert. It should
banish disease in their borders,-give strength
to the warrior's arm, and courage to his
heart; swiftness to the young braves, and
beauty to their daughters, lor their na
tion alone was the blessing given, but with
it a command, upon the obedience of which
hung the continuance of the Great Spirit s
favor; that condition was peace. While
they were permitted to repel the encroach
ments of their enemies from their borders,
they were forbidden to make war. They
were required to treat their prisoners with
mercy and kindness. They were comman
ded to banish from their breasts a spirit
of revenge against an enemy, much less
nirainst those of their own nation. Mur
der, that child of anger, hatred, and re
venge, was prohibited on pain of the na
tion's ruin and the Great Spirit's anger."
" Long, the tribe of the Ka-ma-was pros
pered ; their chase was always successful,
their battles ended in victory ; their squaws
were fairer, their young warriors more no
ble in their strength, more expert in the
juse of the bow and tomahawk, than were
any of the surrounding tribes. Moons
came and vanished, the sun took his course
across the topmost heaven, and made his
way along the South horison, then tracked
arain the senith, in his unvarying round.
Seasons came and faded, and still the Kama-was
were happy. As each succeeding
corn-dance came around, their trust in Wa-
kon-Tun-kah was stronger, their council
fires burned brighter, for the Great Spirit
that blessed them. They loved the Great
Spirit, for his word tailed not They knew
not sickness, for the water from the en
chanted spring, which they carried in vi
als of the alder wood, was a charm to ward
off the ill-will of Wa-kon-Schee-chah, the
bad spirit. The wounds of their enemies
harmed them not, for the water staunched
the flowing blood and brought life back
" ft O I
Their chiefs and people liyedj
.gain.
CH
BON
strong and happy, until a good old age,
and then glided peacefully into the grave,
and sank to rest as sinks tho summer's
sun beneath the western sky."
"But the Ka ma-was are gone, they are
not here."
"Son of the paleface, listen I The
spirit of revenge came, and the Ka-ma-was
fell. The good old chief Wal-lal-lah
had departed to tho spirit's bright hunting
ground, where the chase wearies not,"ad
the golden arrow never misses its aim,
leaving two children, the young chief
Mow-een, and his sister, the beauteous
Wi-no-na. Mow-een was but a boy in
years, but in stature and bravery he was a
man. With the cunning of the red fox,
he had the strength and daring of the wild
catamount His yonng and tender hand
had taken trophies from the enemy, and
proud were the Ka-ma-was to to hail him
chief. Kind was his nature, but his pas
sions were like the quick, hot flames of the
pine-wood fire. Wi-no-na was beautiful
as the rose tint that stains the the sky be
fore the rising sun ; her eye was gentle as
the soft gaze of the turtle, her step light
as the fleet fawn. She was the delight of
the Ka-ma-was, they all loved her, for she
was worthy to be loved.
"Sixteen summers had spread their
flowers for her boundins feet, when Mow-
and his warriors returned from a fight
een
with a distant tribe, who had encroached
on their hunting grounds, bringing spoils
and prisoners. Among the prisoners was
the son of the chief of the Wah-pe-lons,
the mortal enemies of the Ka-ina-was.
When Mow-een fonnd his foe in his power,
his heart whisnerered for revenge, but the
fear of the great Spirit's curse stayed his
hand from violence, yet his heart was bit
ter within his bosom. The prisoner, We-
hc-mee, or the Eagle-Gazer,
waa a vonn?
j o
een saw it, and his heart exulted, for he
longed to humble the proud son of his
father's deadly foe. But when the gentle
Wi-no-na stole a visit to the young prison
er, to carry to him the dainties which her
1 carry to uuu tut. iuiumw w !..
. 1 i 1- . t:
own hand had prepareu, ana ue ca
admiring gaze upon her, his proud nature
.: w i.to r,r,A ntrir
have long brave of noble stature and nobler heart x -snai -
have ' Stately, proud and haughty in the presence rvf --v
i J,t . . .: mA Af TTaheitnii a uriM be ended.
1 - e i i. v:Ayi in 9wiia niAV. 1 uliiii iuv -
. wa, ataav 1 C I
yielded, and he ceased to think himself a jtne nignt, ana j
captive. At the dawn and sunset she bowlings of the storm. Hah pon has spo
sought him, but Mow-een knew it not, and ken, and now will she follow 1 no na to
soon she heard We-hc-mee'a talc of love,
and her heart responded to its call ; they
met in the wild retreats of the forest, for
We he-mee roamed free. The red man
will not break his trust; We-hc-mec was,
a prisoner, but his own honor kept him so.
"Fierce was the anger of .Mow-een
when he learned that We-he-meo had
dared to love Wi-no-na, but his passion
amounted to phrensy when he knew that
his love was returned. Wis enemy was
wnrthv hia sister's love, but Moween's
vengeance reasoned not
j
The old braves
t.A v.: : nj wiih bis moth-1
euuvaicu aim i " i
er clung around him; he dashed away
their detaining hands, and seizing his bow
and quiver, rushed into the forest We-hc-mec
and Wi-no-na were seated side by
side on a rock near where the great lime
stone spring, gushes from the hill; her
head rested on his.
"'Beauteous Winona,' said tho lover,
'fly with me to my own tribe; there shall
our lives be like the days of a never ending
summer, our joys shall know no end, Wi-no-na
shall be queen, and my nation shall
delight'
" But the sentence was unfinished ; an
arrow from an unseen hand pierced his
heart, and bounding into the air he fell a
corpse at the maiden's feet 1 With a wild
cry she sprang up, but it was only to fall
upon her lover's body, tor Irom tne gasn
of another arrow from her brother's bow,
welled the warm tide and mingled with
her lover's blood,
"With his deed of revenge, tho angry
spirit of Mow-een fled, and with agony he
saw his crime in its hideous light, and
frantic with grief and horror as he had
been before with passion, he rushad for
ward and fell on his knees at his sister's
side, and raised her dying head.
Wi-no-na,' he shrieked, 'oh, my sis
ter, my beautiful, my only one, do not die.
Ohl Great Spirit! listen to Moween's
prayer, forgive his crime, and let Wi-no-na
live.'
" With joy he thought of the enchanted
spring, and with the speed of the wind, he
brought some of its water and held it to
his sister's lips. But the covenant was
broken, and the spring had lost its power.
With her dying eyes turned tenderly on
her brother, Wi-no-na softly whispered,
'Mow-een is forgiven,' and her gentle
spirit joined her lover's in the hunting
grounds of Paradise.
"The old braves found Mow-een kneel
ing by his sister's side, his head buried be
tween his knees. Deep groans of anguish
rent his breast They tried to raise and
comfort him, but he heeded them not.
'Wi-no-na is dead he said, 'and so let
Mow-een d
"And he raised his hand to plunge his
scalping knife into his bosom, but ere it
fell the weapon waa wrested from his
grasp.
" When nah-pon, the mother of Mow
een, saw what was done, she shrieked not,
nor wept, but a tremor shook her frame,
and her eyes gleamed from their pale sock
ets with the lustre of madness as in a
hoarse unearthly whisper she addressed
her son, 'Son of Wa-lal-lah, rise.'
" Her command was obeyed.
"'Son of Wal-lal-lah,listen to thy moth
er's voice, for thy vengeful spirit has de
stroyed her peace. The light of her eyes
is gone, wrenched from her by thy mur
derous hand. The Great Spirit is angry
with thy people; thy wicked passions has
displeased him. Thou hast broken the
covenant which thy fathers kept, and hast
brought ruin on thy cation. Thou should'st
have been thy nation's preserver, but thou
art her destroyer. Then listen, son of
Wal-lal-lah, to nah-pon's curse, for the
lan of Uuli-poH. shall be upon thee. Thou
hast murdered thy whole nation. They
all shall die, and their hunting grounds be
desolate. They shall go to the hunting
ground where their fathers are; other
tribes shall own their wigwams, but they
shall not behold it Thou, only thou,
shall live to see the ruin which thou hast
wrought
" 'Full sixty time six score moons shall
wax and wane, and thou shalt be a wan
derer on the Ka-ma-was' soil, once thine
own,
but thine no longer. Thon shalt
seek rest, but sleep shall fly from thee.
Thy bow shall not speed thy arrow to the
mark, and thou shalt hunger because thy
quiver shall fail thee. Famine shall fol-
! low thee, and thirst shall be thy compan-
ion.
Oh ! thou shalt long to die, but the
Spirit shall not hear thy prayer.
vircaii
n l
Once each moon as thi full orb ascends
the meridian, shalt thou hear soft strains
of sweet music wafted from the balmy
shores of the spirit land, where thy people
dwell,
and its sounds shall fill the with
1' . . ... ,. . e
'rnmnrM for thv enme. and thy shriek or
- - , - .
'anguish shall oe neara ou uc
the spirit land,
" Son of the pale face, see'st thou that
high ledge of rocks on yonder steep, above
the mill where the white man grinds his
corn
? Thither the mother of Mow-een
fled, and with a wild shriek, sprang high
in the air and fell bleeding and lifeless on
the sharp crag below.
-
"The cur? of Hah.pon was fulfilled; the
Kama-was dwindled away and died.
Their enemies were successful against
them, and tho young braves fell in battle;
consumption
fixed itself upon the aged
- , . . .
and the young, and the enchanted water
saved them not, bat hurried them to the
grave.
"And Mow-ccn stood, alone, the last of
his race.
" He laid his mother's body in the bu
rial ground of his tribe, far up, on the
high summit of the Cin-tagah or Gray
Mane, by the latter tribes and the pale
face known as the Allegheny.
"And since that day, the curse of Hah
pon has been working well.
"Mow-ccn has seen his hunting ground
in the hands of his enemies. He has been
a stranger in bis own land. Desolate and
lone, in summer's beat and winter's cold
has he wandered, invisible, yet always
feeling, over the homes of his fathers.
Famishing with hunger, and faint, has he
sped his arrow at the passing deer, or the
fleet pheasant, but his bow string always
snapped, and his arrow failed its aim.
Sick, and ready to fall with weakness, his
pride has given way, and he has asked in
piteous accents for food at the Indian's
wigwam or the white man's door, but they
saw him not, and his tremulous voice was
taken for the mournful moanings of the
wind. Parched with burning thirst, he
has sought to sip the limped water, but it
fled from his approach. Weary and rest
less has he lain down in the cool shade,
but the murdered Wi-no-na was before
him, and he saw the mangled corpse of
Hah-von, and he could not sleep, lhe
white man hears at the full moon, on the
Bald Summit of the Allegheny.shneks on
the stillness of the summer's eve, or borne
along upon the wintry blast 'Tis the cry
of Mow-een.f Oh I great was Mow-cen's
crime, but sadly has he suffered. He has
lonired to be at rest, but he could not die.
Often has he turned his wistful eye, and
reached out his impatient hands, to the
bright star where Wi-no-na s spirit dwells,
but t'was vain, for the ban was not yet
ended." . ...
" But the moons haTe passed, and it is
ended now.
' Son of the pale face, shun anger, ote,
wenge. 'Tis Mow-een speaks. His time
" a i . .... it. - r .I.-
CLE
o.
Volnmt Till, Pamper 30.
Whole number 394.
is come, Wi-no-na is avenged, and Mow ' ,
een shall be at rest. To-night, when th
full moon walks the central sky, his spirit
shall fade from earth and fly to meet hie. ;
long lost tribe in the hunting ground of
the spirit land. And see ! even now ha
she reached her summit. Hark ! I hear
a voice. 'Ti Wi-no-na speaks she softly
calls. Mow-een! Mow-een V she beck
me to come I go Son of the pale
S e.'t strains of music struck upon my
ear as the shadowy form grew fainter, and
faded on my sight I was awake t'waa
a dream the sun was set, and the pale
queen of night was reigning in her full
. 7 mm V 1 .
harvest glory m the xcnitn; 1 naa step, xor
hours; I still heard soft, distant music,
and it was some moments before I could
realize that I was reclining in the summer '
house, and that the sounds I heard wen
from the orchestra, in the ball-room below.
I hastened down the hill, and soon was
mil gl ng in the busy mazes of the dance,
but amid the gaiety of the scene I waa
unable to divest myself of the impression
which my strange dream had made upon
me, or to forget the admouition of my
mysterious visitor, " Son of the pale face,
harbor not angr.r, hatred, nor revenge."
It is a eoted fact with regard to the water of the Brl-
fhrii Spnuga. UiaUtalUionah l.iihl.T beaettrbl in all etlkr
dfot-aeee.) when awed by penema ulferuag fro" pntaawwre
aiferUons it n only aliraate the disiass. eat MantuaM
pruriuees difaftrous reruita.
fMany ot the settler of the Allegheny in the eiaisuty of
Bald Hill, tell of shrieks that are heard oa dear wisaty
nithts from the vicinity of an ancient radian burial .'nana
These stranfe soands no doubt produced by the aethja of
tne element are attributed to snpu natural waste.
Fashionable Dancing.
Time was when the danc was decent,
if it was worldly and foolish. That time
has passed away. The modern, imported
dances, such as the "Polka," "Redowa,"
"Schottish," and "German cotillion," aiw
redolent with the lasciviousnesa of Paris
and Vienna. And the drawing-rooms of
Saratoga, Newport, and Cape May, furnish
exhibitions too shamefully Jndelicate Cor
description. Perhaps a counterpart may
be found in the splendid parlors of Fifth
Avenue or Chestnut street Fashion has
placed its imprimatur on this outrage ;
and what has native modesty or purity, or
the decalogue itself, to do with the diver
sions of the families of millionaires?
The gloomiest aspect of fashionable
society is furnished in this readiness to
sacrifice the properties and even decencies
of life to the Moloch of the day. Bitter
rcpentings are at hand. Pareulal indul
gence and ambition thus directed can not
but result in disgrace and ruin. That
beloved daughter, whirling in the arnw of
that bewhiskered villain, is on the brink
of perdition. O, save her before virtue
shrieks over the shrine she Las left, and
you curse the hour when yon destroyed a '
soul to win a smile.
Redeem Time for Reading.
Perhaps you thiuk this impossible ; but
the busiest life has some pauses. When
I see the large amount of time spent by
some over the lowest sort of newspapers,
am convinced that the most industrious
young men might obtain a few minutes a
day for study : and it is astonishing how
much can be learned in a few minutes
day. What can not be done to-day, may
be accomplished to morrow. It is as true
of time as of money " Take care of the
pence, and the pounds will take care of
themselves." Or as Young now more po
etically expresses it "Sands make the
mountain, moments make the year.
Do a little every day. Constant drop-
it a . 1
ping wears away the rocx. nen Apei-
1, the famous Oreck painter, was asked
how he had been able to accomplish so
much for art, he replied : " By the obser
vance of one rule No day without aline."
The following table shows the number
of persons in the different Institutions
from January 1st to June 30th, 1851, in
clusive ; also the number of foreigners in
each department :
Whole No. in State Prison, 474
Foreigners,
14V
" County Jail, 2lUt
Fnreiirnera. 222t
County Jail,
Foreigners,
House of Correction,
977
636
Boston Lunatic Asvlum,224
i-urciguci?,
" Foreigners, 14S
" Deer island, 823
" " House of Iiidus.&Refor.,6&
" " Foreigners, 554
Making a total of 0005 persons in the
six Institutions, of which four thousand
four hundred and fifty-seven, or very near
ly three-fourths, are foreigners.
It is related that Galileo, who invented
the telescope with which he observed the
satellites of Jupiter, invited a man who
was opposed to him to look through it,
that he might observe Jupiter's moons.
The man positively refused, saying, If I
should see them how could I maintain my
opinions, which I have advanced agaiiut
your philosophy ?" This is the case with
many. They will not hear it for fear that
the arguments which they have framed will
be destroyed, and they may be obliged to
give up their vicious mdalgcnccs.
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