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TOL. 1.
georgia, & State Rights’ Advocates
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3t?& ; .?3 aaaimra i&W39A{?3d
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ij .ville at THREE DOLLARS per annum,
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' w d of the year. .
Advertisements inserted at the usual rates:
those sent without a specified number of inser
_ will 1 e published until ordered out, and
charged accordingly. Salesof Land, by Adinin
litrators, B**cutora, or Guardians, are required,
bT | a w, to be held on the first Tuesday in the
month, between the hours of ten in the fore-
B and three in the afternoon, at the court
house in the county in which the property is
situate. Notice of these sales must be given
.. a public gazette sixty days previous to the
of sale. Sales of negroes must bo at pub
auction, on the first Tuesday of the month,
between the usual hours ot sale, at the place of
“|,lie sales in the county where the letters
feta,notary, of Administration .or Guardian
may have been granted, first giving sixty
vs notice thereof, in one oi the public ga-
Lfies of this State, and at the door of the
urt-house, where such sales are to be hela.—
Notice for the sale of Personal Property must
hr <riven in like manner, forty days previous t >
t dav 0 { s;l te. Notice to the Debtors and Cre
ditors of an Estate must be published for forty
L Notice that application will he made
10 the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land,
ust be published four months. Notice for
" l() se u Negroes, must be published for
fcur months before any order absolute shall i>e \
unde thereon by the Court ' 1
POETRY.
_______
from the iVerto England Magazine.
STANZAS.
BV REBECCA THE JEWESS.
If I hsd Tubal’s chordcd shell.
O’er which the first born music rolled,
Inhuming tones, that loved to dwell
Amongst those wires of trembling gold;
If to my soul one note was given
Os that high harp whose sweeter tone
Ciughl the majestic strain from Heaven,
And glowed with fire round Israel’s throne ;
Up to the deep blue starry sky :
Then might my soul aspire, and hold
Communion fervent strong and high,
tV ith hard and king, and prophet old :
Then might my spirit dare to trace
The path our ancient people trod.
When the gray sires of Jacob’s race,
Like faithful ervants. walked with God !
But lurael’s song, alas ! is hushed,
That all her tales of triumph told,
And muto is every voice that gushed
la music to her harps of gold ;
And could my lyre attumn its string
To lofty themes they loved of yore,
Alaa I my lips could only sing
All that we were, but are no more !
Our hearts are still by Jordan's stream
And there our footsteps fain would oe ;
But oh ! 'tis like the captive's dream
Os home his eyes may never see.
A eloud is on our father’s graves,
And darkly spreads o’er Zion’s hill,
And there their sons must stand as slaves.
Or rove like houseless wanderers still.
Yet, where the rose of Sharon blooms,
And cedars wave the stately head
Even now, from out the place of tombs.
Breaks a dead voice that stirs the dead.
Through the wide world’s tumultuous roar
Floats dear and aweet the solemn word,
“Oh, virgin daughter, faint no more.
Thy tears are seen, thy prayers are heard ;
What though, with spirits crushed and broke.
Thy tribes like desert exiles rove
Though Judah feels the strange r’s yoke,
Yet shall the day of promise come,
Thy eons from iron bondage break,
And God shall lead the wanderers home 1”
EROM THE GEORGIA COLKiSa.
WAH.IIAIeOXS V:
Or the Last of tUe Peqnots.
LSy Thomas K. Poor, Esq.
The white man landed—need the rest be told V
******
“ He sank —
" sinks the crimsoned sun beneath the wave !”
Though low in the dust is laid the strong t
mn of tlie Red Man yet his name shall i
lot be unsung:—Though a stone may not I
dl, perhaps, where repose his sad relics'
-yet the eye of memory shall not forget j
t!—Though the axe and ploughshare have j
°ng since obliterated every trace oi itis j
ristence, and disturbed the death-slumber J
his departed race—yet the White Man
hall have a silent veneration for the hills j
vhcre repose their fathers, and wherej
hoy once roamed in all the majestic pride!
’f their native worth.
It was a mild and brilliant evening; the i
“n was shedding ltis last rays upon the j
>road unruffled bosom of the Connecticut, j
a it flowed peacefully amid the wild soli-1
udt’s ot a dark and gloomy forest, almost
minhubited, save by its proud and native
°rds—that an Indian of gigantic stature,
iccontpanied by a tall and interesting
touth, perhaps of twenty-two, appeared j
uddenly upon a bold and projecting bluff,
*hieh rose some twenty-five or thirty feet
l h^ v 'e the surface of the river, and from
'hich a beautiful and pleasant prospect
ur several miles, could be obtained The
fjdian seemed wrapt in contemplative
Renee, with ltis eyes fixed, calm, but stead
i> upon the fading light, as it slowly left
s liquid mirror, followed bv more long
ltl( l gloomy shadows of the surrounding
west. Jlis brow was clouded—care and
fcpression seemed deeply marked upon
us rough but striking features, which were
*rnaps, indicative of uneasiness of mind,
jf~ °1 sad forebodings of tlie future—
”bile on the other hand, the youth np
ttired intent upon surveying the rich
* l *ry. which in every direction pfesen
. itself to view, and seemed to pay blit
Hue attention to the melancholly appeur
«f his red companion. His left arm
uppr.rted a long silver-mounted rifle.
| which he was about to recline against a
| tree, when the Indian took him by the arm
land leading him silently to the brink of
the blul), pointed to .hint a ray of the setting
sun, last leaving the bold brow of a rock
on the opposite shore, said—
“ Dost thou mark yon crimsoned gleam
of the setting sun, which falls so beautifully!
upon the naked and unconscious rock ?”* !
“ I do :” was the youth’s reply.
“See,” continued’the Indian, “it grows
red as it disappears—more swiftly—’tis j
nearly gone—there—no, a little yet re
j mains— them, now ’tis gone !” He was
silent, but continued gazing vacantly upon
the opposite shore. At length lie resumed
| in a solemn and dignified air, addressing
himself to the youth
I “ Pale face," he said “it is thus that the
! race of the Red Man disappears. The
l white men are Itis destroyers. Like the
'black shades of night, they come slowly
; on, end by degrees eclipse ltis sun, which
sinks in blood to endless night, while lie is
swept from the lace of the earth, and is
thought of no more!”
Again he was silent: and perhaps, at
the instanl,a sorrowing tear trickled down
ltis rough, war-worn features, but it was j
dashed aside, as he took the hand of the j
white man and continued—
“ Rut pale youth, the Red Man has sav-!
e.l thy life: go home to thy people, and tell!
them, that he wishes them no harm—that'
the Great Spirit commands aim to love j
ltis white brethren, but that they must not!
trample upon ltis hunting grounds, or the |
Red Man in his wrath, may shed the blood !
ot the pale face: Go, for the word of the I
Red ,\lun has passed.”
“ Rut to whom,” inquired the youth, as j
the Indian turned to depart, “am I indebt
ed for my rescue ? Thy noble bearing, ;
and that of the Indian maiden, speaks thee;
of a higher rank than those from whom J
you snatched ntc.”
“1 am their chieftain, Wahmalonsa—
and the red maiden, who informed me of
your capture, is Ncuha, the chieftain’s
daughter: let the pale face not forget
them. There is thy home, and here is the
Red man’s!”
At litis the Indian left the bluff, and re
ceded at a quick pace through the thick
and gloomy forest, leaving the youth ga
zing vacantly upon the spot from whence
he had disappeared.
The young man alluded to in the pre
ceding, was the only son of one of the first
sellers of Connecticut, whom we sltali in
troduce under the name of Edward An
gletou. lie was a daring and intrepid
youth, of superior courage and abilities,
and highly esteemed for ltis amiable prin
ciples, and thegenereus and disinterested
motives which ever actuated him. The
day previous, lie had set out on a hunting
excursion, when having wandered uncon
sciously, further than lie anticipated, was
surprised by a war party or me
and conveyed a considerable distance
down the river, where lie would have fal
len a prey to their savage cruelty, but for
the timely interference of their Chieftain,
who being informed of the capture by his
daughter, and warmly urged by her, has
tened to ltis assistance, and rescued him
from the stake, just at the install they
were applying the fire-brands, and convey
ed him in safety his settlement.
The l'equols were a tribe of Indians,who
during the early part of the sixteenth cen
tury, greatly harassed and retarded the 1
settlement oi the New England States;
and more particularly that of Connecticut,
as it lay most contiguous. Their depre
dations had been varied : In many instan
ces, they had attacked and slain several of
the inhabitants without the least provoca
tion. and not unfrequently carrying them
captives to their nation, where they ended
in servitude a miserable existence, without
the least hope of ever again seeing their
countrymen.
Two months had scarcely elapsed since
his first capture, when one evening, as An
gleton, attended by a young anti hand
some female, by the possession of whose
hand, he was in the hope soon to reach the
summit of what he considered his earthly
happiness, walking upon the banks of the
river, within sight of the houses, was seiz
ed bv a party of I’equots. whs proceeded
immediately with them to the main village |
where they were presented to \\ ahmalon
sa, who being deceived by misrepresenta
tions from those who captured them, he
directed that they should be secretly con
fined. and to await his orders.
) This, with many other similar offences,
j could but justly rouse the indignation of
j the whites, who had. time after time, with
l held their vengeance, arid hoped, by trea
i ties, to conciliate a friendly intercourse
| with the nation, but without cfleet. They
therefore resolved to exterminate or sub
due the tribe. The l’equots were on the
alert; for conscious of having gone too
far in the pretended mitigation of their
wrongs, they were in daily expectation of
an attack from the whites; who, however
I beitnr dilatory in their movements, the In
I dians determined to attack them, and thus
commence an open warfare,
j * * “Where art thou gorng. fa
: titer f” ashed Ncuha, one bright Spring
morning, as she entered the wigwam after
j an usual early ramble, “ that thou armst so
j carefully, and so soon f”
“ To battle. Neulia,” answered the cluel
tain, “ wltv ask me that t”
•• 1 thought that Wahmalonsa was the
1 white man’s friend,” replied the maiden.
J “So long,” returned the Chieftain, “as
the white man is Wamnlonsa's friend, ne
'! longer. The Red man must live as well
fte fee pale face.” He was sileit for an
“ W * nevor des * mir »»Y lliing—Truth l>« Ins our snide, we sail nnd.V her auspice..”
instant, then resumed in a more coutidcu
tial manner.
“ Ncuha! dost thou remember the white
youth whom we rescued from the stake
but—two moons since ?”
“ Father, I do:” she answered with con
, siderable anxiety, and at the same time
j looking wistfully' in his face, “ what of
him ?” she asked.
“He lives, but is our prisoner,” the sav
j age answered, calmly, as a smile of exul
tation seemed to quiver upon his lips—To
Neuha, the tone of ltis voice bore the in
dication of death.
“ Again a prisoner,” she sighed, “ I fear
the red maiden can save thee no more.”—
Then turning to her father, as a tear of
pity glittered in her pure eye, asked, “ Has
Waliniiilonsa’s word passed?”
“ No,” was the answer, upon which Ne
uha attempted to essay in his favor, but
was interrupted by him :
“ Maiden, thy father loves his people
too well, to let the pale face trample upon
their rights. A white maiden is also our
prisoner: Neuha must look to her, while
Wahmalonsa battles with Iter fathers.”
So saying, lit; was about to depart,when
an Indian in full speed, entered and in
formed him that the captive youth had es
caped, and slain three of ltis most valiant
men. For a moment the Chieftain was
silent: conflicting passions warred within
his Ijosoih, while a warrior’s rage and
madness revolted in the keen glance of his
penetrating eye! “Dogs of red men!”
lie thundered, “could they not hind him
tight enougli ? Could they not watch, that
a pale lace must slip from them, and
tread half their hills before they find out?
Villain begone ! Rid them commence im
mediate pursuit, and if they bring him not
back before the sun shall set, this blade
shall appease its thirst in the blood of
some of you ! —Regone !”
The Indian flew from the wigwam, fol
lowed immediately by VValimalonsa, foam
ing with rage; while Neuha, almost un
conscious, knelt to the Great Spirit, and
fervently implored (lie protection of the |
fugitive. Yet for why, she knew not— \
nor did she leave Iter posture, until start-j
led by the entrance of the female captive, i
Neuha received her kindly, and itnmedi- !
ately prepared for her lmr own bearskins, j
and shared with her the food of the red j
man.
“ Though the red men do not agree 1
with their white brethren,” said the In
dian girl, tenderly, “yet Neuha will try to
comfort the white Maiden.”
Harriet Meidon, the captive, was a
young and engaging female—the affianced
bride of Edward Angfelon. She was
handsome—yet, not to sav exquisitely so :
still, there was a something about her,
which won the attention, and even unsus
pectingly,chained the heart in submission!
toher. Edward loved her ; nor was she
less uiiuglivJ to Ktiv. vviuui he escaped
he searched for her In vain; in wfitch
search he slew the Indians, and indeed,
run a narrow risk of being retaken. It
was from Ncuha that Harriet learned the
event. A faint ray of hope shot across
her pale and livid features—but the tho’t
of his being retaken, in which case site
knew there would be little or no chance
for his life, chased that transient gleam
away, and she insensible relaxed into a
pensive and melancholy state.
It was toward evening when the Indian
scouts returned, without any news of the
fugitive, upon which, tfie operations for
attacking the white settlements, were sus
pended by the Indians, who reasonably
concluded their enemies would be on their
guard, which was correct For the arri
val of Angleton among them, invigorated
new exertions in their actions, and from
whom they received important informa
tion resjtecting the situation of the main
Indian Village.
Having assembled their forces, they
dropped down Wic- river, landed, and form
ed their plans of attack. To Edward was
entrusted the command of an advanced [
guard, flanked and supported by the main
body. It was a a wild,dark night; clouds
hung in heavy blackness over the profound
and gloomy forest—not a light was to be
seen glimmering from the silent village,
and save the bright and lived flashes that:
glared at intervals, and which only left
the eve more bewildered, by the apparent
intensity of the darkness which followed,
nought remained to guide them correctly.
Vet, they beat their way, till the hoarse
deep growling of a dog informed them
that they were near the village. A bright
quick flash gleamed through the woods, as
a rifle’s sharp peal broke upon the ear.
It was an Indian sentinel! —The next mo
ment was one of horrid clamor and confu
sion ! The war-whoop was sounded :it
was echoed from every quarter! The
big thunder muttered through the clouded
canopy, while streams of lightning flashed
with terrifttc grandeur around the devoted
Village! Indians were seen running in
every direction, preparing themselves for
battle while the whites poured a destruc
tive fire amongst them. Wahmalonsa,
their e\cr watchful and guardian! Itiel,was
at their head, and every where forming
them fertile reception of their enemies.
“ Nenha !’’ lie exclaimed, as ho sprang
from his couch, on the first alarm,and sei
zing ltis tomahawk and rifle, “ remain you
with the white maiden, here—’tis Iter they
seek: but they must shed the blood of
Wahmalonsa. before they get her, or harm
thee either!”
Without waiting for a reply, the Chief
sprang like a tiger from his wigwam, and
was in an instant lost amid the aurround-
j ing darkness. Harriet started noon her!
j feet, roused from her slumber bv the din
ol battle—“ Heaven protect us !” she ex-1
claimed, “ What can this mean !”
“ Re peaceful white maiden,” said the
Indian girl, kindly as she approached while
thou art with Neuha—Lie down that the
death of thy kin may not harm thee.” liar-!
! riot taking her advice, crouched low be- •
j side the Rod Maiden, who locked her in a;
i fond and kind embrace.
For a length of time, the battle raged !
I furiously and without intermission, lit-!
j deed it was an obstinate and doubtful con- j
I test. Fiercer and fiercer it seemed to!
peal, while at intervals, above the terrific!
din, rose the yell of-the victorious savage,
as he sprung from his cover to seize the
scalp of some unhappy victim, who had
fallen beneath his deadly aim. Rut fate
j was against them. To Harriet and the
: Indian Ma!dgp, who were still locked in
, the embrace of each other, and lay listen*
! ing with impatience—the noise of the
! battle became nearer and more distinct,
! while the heavy tread of the Indians could
! be distinguished as they seemed to pass
:to and fro, in great haste. Instantly, a
; shrill cry of distraction rung through the
woods, as a bright, broad blaze sprung up.
: l’he village was on fire!—The Indians
were flying in every direction ! Wahma
losa’s wigwam was near the centre of the
village.—ln a few minutes the flames were
raging in almost every quarter—while the
slaughter among the Indians became most
horrible, owing to their almost defence
less state.
At this instaut, Wahmalonsa entered
“Neuha!” lie ctied, as he stood, grim, j
b'ocdv, and ferocious the eagle’s plume
had dropped from his lordly brow in the
hot contest —“ Where art thou—tlrou and
the White Maiden ?”
“ Here we are father,” was the answer,
as Neuha, leading Harriet, advanced to
wards him, but beholding his dread ap
pearance, shrunk back in amazement, as
the light of the blazing wigwams flashed j
full upon his terror-bearing features !
The cliieftian paused and viewed bis
trembling captive, with a look and silence
that were terrible, as she kneeled near the
Red Maiden for protection, but neither
presuming to speak. At length ho ad-1
dressed her, as he grasped ltis tomahawk j
—“Pale face I thy fathers are working
destruction!—See yon broad blaze—j
swift consuming the home of the Red
Man ! Upon whom shall lie wreak his
vengeance !—The Great Spirit lias for
saken him to-night—and the Red Man ,
will soon be no more!—Shall he wreak
his vengeaneo upon thee ?—Thou art his
only victim!—Wahmalonsa’s hatchet shall
drink thy blood, and then, in vain may
thy kin seek thee !”
At this he grappled with a tiger's fury
upon the fainting Harriet, while the venge
ful tomahawk glittered for an instant in
the air, then to fall with certain death!—
Ncuha watched every motion of Iter fa- ■
ther, and at the instant sprang between!
and caught the descending arm of the!
Chieftain!—-“The promise of Wahma-j
lonsa must remain unbroken she said,
and smiled with angelic sweetness ill'
the face of her enraged father. The In
dian's arm fell loosely by his side—while
his eyes rolled solemnly to Heaven!—j
“Great Spirit!” he muttered, “shall the |
Red Man’s hatchet fall bloodless at his
feet, unrevenged in the crimsoned current
ofiiis destroyer ?—Shall the Red Man
leave his native home for the usurpation]
of the white stranger—without one blow
in its defence ?”—he was silent for a mo
ment, with his eves still fixed above—
“ Silence reigns in thy high courts,” he
murmered, “ and the Red Man must wan
der, or sleep with his fathers without a
name !” Then turning to his daughter
with a smile of he. otsm and parental fond
ness, said—“ For thee, Ncuha, will I flee
—I will save thy life,and then return—” .
“ To die, father?” interuptedNcuha.
“ Yea, Wahmalonsa will die here—he .
loves the land of his fathers—Rut hark ! ;
the [tale faces are upon us- -Neuha,come-” j
“Rut the White Maiden—?” (
“Her kinsmen are at hand.—While
Maiden! rise, and fear not, for Wahina-j ,
lonsa has promised not to shed thy blood;
in anger—thou art free to go—for the
Red Man’s faith is pure.” Then turning! I
to Neuha, bade her fellow- -The Red and j
White Maidens took their last embrace—j ,
they parted like sisters—Then, led by l
Wahmalonsa, Neuha darted like a comet! ;
through the raging flames.
Edward, from the instant the Indians ;
began retreating, commenced searching t ’
for Harriet. He was fcariilly confident t
that she had fallen a victim to the relent-j 1
less rage of some bloody savage, or still
retained a prisoner by them to be sacri-|
ficed. Bloody from itis wounds; he bore
the a>j»ect of an Indian himself. In every . <
direction he flew—but vain was bis search.! i
While Harriet, but ilist delived from onej
danger, found herself involved in another,,
from which she was at a loss how to ex-j
tricate herself. Wahmalonsa hail scarcely t
left his wigwam before it was in flames !|
Harriet feared to leave it, least she should,
encounter some retreating savage,—but j
to remain was certain death—She rushed !
at all hazards—The roof crumbled in asj
she left! —There was nochoice—Forward j
she rushed, halt frenzied, she knew not I
where. Just us site turned an angle, the
only place where the liana s had not reach
ed, she met a human figure. Her pictur
ing fancy displayed an Indian, grim and
terrible !—She shrieked and fled—“ Har
riet !” cried a voice ;~lt was her Edw-erd,'
MIL LEDGE VILLE, GEORGIA, SE!»T. 4, 1533-
I anil the next moment she was in the dear
■ embrace of the one she loved.
| Edward was philanthropic as lie was
noble. He learned that the Chieftain
Wahmalonsa, with his daughter, were
making their escape towards the moun
tains closely pursued by a party of whites.
Leaving Harriet under proper care, he
; followed them immediately, in hopes of
saving the Chieftain’s life and setting him
I at liberty, is ease be should be taken.—
Meanwhile Wahmalonsa made ltis way,
till coming to a narrow defile, on one side
ot which, a huge rock rose to an elevated
height, and Hung wild and gloomy over
the abyss below This theChlet ascended,
with Neuha at his side, to take a last fare
well of his native home. It was a sad,
bean-rending scene.—Here stood the
last, the bravest of his race, in contempla
tive silence, casting a sorrowed eye upon
the desolation before him. Conflicting pas
sions warred within his great bosom—a
hero’s tear glowed in his fierce eye, and
for a moment bedimmed its native brillian
cy —A hero’s tear, a hero’s sigh, passed
for his departed race.—Rut a bitter smile
played upon his lips, as he beheld the sun
burst forth from behind a mass of clouds,
and send its morning rays over the uni
verse—
“ What does the eye of the Great Spirit
behold, rising from ltis undisturbed re
pose ?” be said, as lie folded ltis arms and
stood bold and majestic upon the brow of
the rock.—“ls there no change which it
can behold, since last it sank in the far
West ? Look at the smoke which curls
in one broad pillar to thy high seat—ol
what does it speak ? Does it not tell thee,
that it was once the Led Man’s home?—
And does it not ask thee, where the proud
race are, that once inhabited it ? Does it
not ask thee—where the poor Indian is ?--
And thou eanst only say—the white man
lias destroyed him !”
He was silent, and stood as if powder
ing upon his sad and depressed condition
—his spirit seemed as in communion with
those of his fathers, long since departed.
Neuha remained silent, and bathed in
tears. She neither moved, looked arond,
nor spoke. Rut Wahmalosa started sud
denly, as if recollecting himself, said, as
he grasped her arm—
“ Neuha, my spirit has been among
those of thy fathers’, and of thy mother’s,
Orinoka—they say that I must send you
thither—that they are waiting for thee.”
Rite was silent—but a faint Smile of re
signation played upon her unclouded but
death-like features, as she looked wistfully
in his face for an instant, as if in submis
sion to his will, then bowed her forehead
upon his hand, and bathed it in tears. —
At that instant, a shout from behind an
nounced that his pursuers were at hand.--
He started-" Neuha ! the palefaces are
upon us ! —Thy spirit must go with those
of thy fathers. Thou shait not be the
slave of the white man—Wahmulonsa’s
spirit will soon follow thee— go.” —And
his keen blade was sheathed iu her bare
bosom.—He reclined ber gently upou
the flinty rock—and her pure spirit fled, as
“ he fixed Iter eyes ou Heaven. The *un the »kj-,
HermM to txjuk down in pity from on hi^h—
As lie&th’d colrl hand her featured fair imprest,
Iu the calm slumbers of uriclounded rest.’*
“Now come, what will,” said the Chief
tain, as he grasped his weapons, and rais
ed himself front his low posture, where he
had been giving full vent to his grief, and
and watching the departing spirit of hts
daughter—“ 1 can meet it—VV alimalonsa
has a heart that never feared, a rifle that
never missed —and a tomahawk that was
ever true to its purpose.’’
The next instant the white men appear
ed in sight, but a short distance; they
would have fired, but seeing the calmness
with which the Indian awaited their ap
proach, thought to make him an easy cap
tive. They rushed up the rock, and
would have advanced; but Wahmalonsa
addressed them in a fearless anshaken
tone —“ Stop white men! —Go back to
your homes, and leave the Red Man to
seek his grave alone,” he said, as he level
led his death-bearing rifle at the lorcmost
of them—
“ Obdurnte ne a portion of the rock
Whereon he stood—and fixed hi» levet’d gun.
Dark as a sullen cloud before the suit!”
«Ye have sought and desolated lii=
home,” he continued, “and now seek the
last remaining remnant of his race to mur
der ! Ye ravenous white men ! —Ye,
worse than wolves 1 You hunt him out
as you would the—stricken deer—you
have driven him to the last brink, you can
get him no further. Let the first who
dare oppose his arm, or raise a weapon
against ifim, step forth, and the tomahawk
of IValimalonsa shall soon taste his pale
blood!” .
A short pause ensued,in which all were
silent: no motion was made —At length
one of the foremost accosted him, “VV ali
maionsa, vield up your arms, and become
our prisoner.’’
“No!” thundered the Chieftain, as lie
more tightly grasped his deadly weapons,
while proud and indignant defiance flash
id from his gleaming eyes!—“ Think ye,
that the I’cquot < liieftain slew his only
daughter to become thy slave! Look til
hcr°pure blood—one drop is worth an
hundred of you ! "as it to he thy slave
he done this ? No, white men. you need
not think he craves life ol you—VVahma
i lonsa never feared you—nor docsjie fear
death.”
“Then Wahmalonsa will not yield
was asked again.
“ You were answered,” was the only re
! ply.
“ Soldiers, to your duty.” In an in
stant a dozen rifles were leveled— but they
met the rifle of the Red Man— “ Tell me,
which of you dares to draw his trigger
first ?”—lie exclaimed as he turned his ri
fle deliberately at the breast of every
one while they paused as if hesitating to
fire.
“ Are you awed at the muzzle of one
ritle? Soldiers, fire ?” The leaden deaths
whizzed mortally through the breast of the
heroic savage. His rifle dropped from
ltis shoulder, and he staggered: but rais
ing it quick as tho’t—
“ ith otto strong effort,
Prove their leaden fury back !“
Three fell with him I— lie writhed for a
moment in agony—“ Spirits of my fathers
—of Neuha :—1 cotnc !”and with ahitter
curse upon the heads of his destroyers,
while a deep groan escaped him. Itis migh
ty spirit winged its upward flight I
“ No coward languor mark’d his parting breath 1
The latest accents from his lips that came,
Were proud, were fierce, were dreadful, were the
same !*
Edward, who was in pursuit, was with
in hearing of the nqtort of the rifles, but
arrived too late to see the Chieftain, ere
his last breath had fled. He could but
weep, for lie was conscious of the debt
which he owed the generous savage. He
ordered a decent buiial for the Chieftain
and Itis daughter, near the spot where they
fell. And though they were hid from his
sight, yet he ever retained in his memory,
a lively sense of the obligation which he
owed:—And often when he thought of
them, those thoughts were followed by a
tear of sympathy, for the unhappy state of
the i’cquot Chieftain and his daughter.
It is almost needless to add, that tho
elap-te of a few months, made Harriet
MeJdon, the happy bride of Edward Ait
gleton. A long and prosperous life, with
a peaceful close, was allotted to them.—
Surrounded by a numerous offspring, and
a large circle of friends, they lived honor
ed, and died respected—for their virtno,
and integrity.
MARCH OF INTELLECT.
A COLOUUKD COLOQCY.
Cuffec. How now, Ca-sar, what you
finkin’ob ? You no at Miss Tibb’s coa
sart toden Sunday.
Caesar. Oh I Goramolly, me and two
oder gernrnen wor busy as flea in a nigh
cap, ltearin Massa Hanibel giben de lec
tors on Cramanology.
Cuflee. W hat you mean by Cramyo
logy—something to cat ?
Ca:sar. Now den, only hear dat! Why
Cuflee, you’m as ignorant sis you’m wor*
born in Grecian; besides you prouounct
ficatiom am abominable, fhamanology
something to eat! lie, lie. lie. Why, you
niggar, ’tis no such ting, ’tis de hiilis and
de hollers of de skull—do nobs, and de no
nobs, to show de natural genus ob de in
tellect. Let me feel. Oh my eye, what
a whopper ober de left ear, dis am do
voraferous organ—you hab great genus
for eatin fish.
Ctiflee. You don’t say so, Cesar, my
boy, am dat fashionable ?
Ca’sar. Oh werry, when de fish are
plentifuller—but let me fed again—Oh 1
by de hokey ! de music organ—why you
Cuflee, you am first rate singer.
Cuflee. De debt! Ibe I why, Cmsar
boy, 1 neber sung notin, no how, dough to
be sure I away s tot 1 wor somebody.
Caesar. Dai’s cause you’re war neber
cdificationcd.—You know what Homer
said?
Cuflee. What Homer Wilson de bar
ber? He sed he’d neber cut hair and
shave for less den sixpen a head.
Caesar. O! you ignormus. I mean Ho
mer de great Poemster—him what libes
in Rossum.
"How many a wave of beauiifullcr gem ecrena,
De ugly boiler ob de oshum bear,
How many a ilower (dat means a nigger) is born
to brush unseen.
And waste its sweetness all about de country *
Dats what you may call translatin poem
try —you hab not got de proper bumps—
only feel dis samasher at de back ob my
bead.
Cuflee. Oh, my eye, why as I lib, ’tis
as big and bard as a twelve cent Graham
louf.
Ca sar. Yes, my boy, dat am de great
proof ob dc genus. Ilannabcl says lis a
real Bryant.
Cuflee. You no say so—den Casar,
spose you polish no more hoots.
Caesar. Not arter I hab larnt—but
come, Cuflee, dern fellers am laughing at
us, dev hab no organs of genus.
Cuflee. Here’s wit you, my boy, but
first let us go hab something to eat, for I
feel de bump voraferous am werry busy
knocking at my stomach.
Tun vame of Married Men. — “A
little more animation my dear,” whisper
ed Lady H. to thcgcmle Susan, who was
walking languidly thorough a quadrille.
“Do leave me to manage my own busi
ness, Mamma, ” replied the provident
nymph ; “ 1 shall not dance my ringlets
out’ofcurl loramarricd man. —“Of course
not, inv love; but I was not aware who
your partner was.”
HORNETS &. HOPPING.
What dat make you hop so, Sambo?
Hornet, Kuffy !—’humph.
Smart vou much ?
Yes. berry much—l no know what do
and un ting made for, no how.
A Vermont pa|*r has nominated Judge
M< Lean for the next Presidency.
NO. 34.
