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.“De omnibus rebus, et quibusdam aliis.”
BY W. W. TURNER.
Vol.1. DECEMBER 15, 1862. No. 7.
The Meeting.
“She came—she is gone—we have met,
And meet perhaps never again.”
“ Consaponakeeso!” breathed a deep
but tender voice, just as the chant was
finished.
The sound was from a young man who
had come up, unperceived, and had stood
listening to the wild melody that rose .and
echoed through the forest. His appear
ance answered, to a singular degree, the
description in the song. He appeared tall,
graceful, willowy, active,and strong. Coal-
black hair fell in masses almost on his
shoulders, and his eyes, which were now
soft and melting, one who looked on him
would feel sure, could shoot forth eagle
glances. He was clad in a hunting suit—
frock of European cloth, slouched
felt hat, decorated with a plume of native
feathers, buckskin leggings, and Indian
moccasins. In his belt were pistols and a
knife, while a rifle of exquisite workman
ship lay across his shoulder. The cast of
his features, and the fair hue of his cheek,
showed that he was a pure Caucasian.
At the sound of his voice, Consapona-
keeso turned and sprang to her feet. Per
ceiving the speaker, she bounded impul
sively toward him. Quickly laying down
his rifle, the young man opened his arms,
and the girl threw herself into them, ex
claiming :
“At last ! my beloved one ! At last!”
A long, mutual embrace, and a showei
of passionate kisses followed, when the
two sat down on the grassy bank, unheed
ing the presence of the other Indian girls,
who stood gazing in wonder at the scene
before them. Consaponakeeso, supported
bv one of her lover’s strong arms, rested
her head upon his broad bosom, and turned
upward, toward his face, her deep, lustrous
eyes, from which beamed an expression of
pure, devoted love, and perfect assurance
and contentment. Her cup of happiness
was full.
Thus far, her companions had been si
lent, but now there was a busy whispering
among them, and at length one, the eldest
of the group, approached and spake:
“It becomes not her, in whose veins
flows the blood of our Grand Micco, to be
have thus toward an unknown Pale Face.”
Consaponakeeso rose to hei feet, and
drew herself up to her full height. Ad j
the countryman.
angry, haughty glance flashed from her
eyes as she answered :
“Daughter of the Family of th6 Bear,
you forget yourself.* A princess of the
House of the Wind does not brook reproof
from her inferior.”
The girl so addressed, who appeared to
be about 20 years old, and wore a sober,
prudent look, seemed, for a moment, to be
somewhat angry, as well as abashed ; but
she quickly recovered herself, and resum
ed her quiet, collected manner.
“Daughter of the Wind,” she answered,
“we of our family do not forget what we
are. We stand next to yours, and I have
been commanded to watch over and advise
you.”
“Hear me, then,” was the answer: “This
is no unknown Pale Face. His father is
one of the mighty men of war among the
Whites, and he himself is one of the chief
of their young braves.”
“We know them not,” persisted the oth
er : “The tender young dove should not
trust itself within reach of the ravenous
hawk.” .
“Yes; but the eaglet matches with its
kind. Heard you not when I said his
glance was piercing and bright like the
eagle’s ?”
“ No moi'e,” added the imperious girl,
with increased haughtiness of manner, and
a determined wave of the hand: “ Go !”
she added, pointing toward the town.
Her companion was at length silenced,
and turned, with the rest, to leave the wil
ful princess.
“ Consaponakeeso,” said the young man,
“ why do you not tell them who I am ?”
“ Because,” was the. reply, “ the Family
of the Win’d know no superior in this land,
and are accountable to none.”
“ Then I will speak,” said he.
“ Daughters of the Miccoes,” he contin
ued, addressing the retiring maidens, while
his arm again entwined the form of the
beautiful girl by his side, and she drooped
her head upon his shoulder: “ Daughters
of the Miccoes, it is as your princess tells
y ou. My father is a man of note among
the people of your great king and father
who dwells beyond the wide waters. He
is a colonel in the army of this mighty sov
ereign. You have all heard of Col. John
Musgrave. I am his son. He comes, even
now, from the colony of Carolina, to bright
en the chain of friendship between your
people and his—that chain which has late
ly grown rusty and dull. He is, at this
moment, in your town with his friends.
They and I arrived there but an hour ago.
I asked after this, my wild flower, and hav
ing been told, by her own mother, that she
had come this way, I followed to seek her.”
The Indian girls had stopped and listen
ed attentively to what young Musgrave said.
“ I know not” replied Hiwassee, the girl
who had interrupted them first ; “ I know
not whether there is truth in your heart and
on your lips, or w hether you use lying
words; but I have spoken and -we will
leave you.”
“ Go !” exclaimed Consaponakeeso, with
another imperious wave of the hand. ■
Publius vElius Adrian.
“Publius JElius Adrian, the 15th Roman
emperor, was of a-Spanish family, and ac
cording to some historians was a native of
Spain, though others affirm Rome to have
been his birthplace. He was born a. d.
76, and served early in Spam and Moesia.
Having married the neice of the empress
Plotina, he rose rapidly by the aid of her
influence and his own merit, and filled the
offices of questor, consul, tribune of the
people, and pretor. For his conduct in the
Dacian war, Trajan gave him the diamond
which he himself had received from Nerva
as the sign of adoption. On the death of
Trajan, in the year 117, Adrian succeeded
him to the empire. During his long reign
of 21 years, he visited almost every part of
his dominions. While in Britain he built
the famous wall between the Solway and
the Tyne, to prevent the incursions of the
Caledonians. The Jews having revolted,
he defeated and almost exterminated them.
Adrian had a robust constitution, went bare
headed, and usually made long marches on
foot ; he had an extraordinary memory,
was condescending, enacted many good
laws, and loved poetry, and the arts and
sciences. On the other hand, he was sus
picious, not unfrequently cruel, and dis
graced himself by his unnatural passion for
Antinous. He died at Baise, in his 62nd
year, having, for sometime previously, been
so tormented by disease as to entreat his
friends to terminate his existence. A few
days before his death he composed the
Latin lines to his soul, which have been
often translated into various language.”*
“ The most disagreeable two-legged aui-
mal I know, is a little great man, and the
next, a little great man’s factotum and
friend.”
“ There are some men whose enemies
are to be pitied much, and their friends
more.”
“ None but the contemptible are appre
hensive of contempt.'