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For the Washingtonian.
THE CHIEF’S DAUGHTERS
A Tale of the Siouxs.
BY THE POOR STUDENT.
Twilight had passed—night had drawn
her silvery veil over the earth, and all
life had relapsed into silence. The stars
appeared silently, taking their, places,
one by one, in the blue firmament above ;
and the moon, creeping on in her ever
lasting path through the heavens, once
again came brightly into view, throwing
her soft rays and shadows everywhere in
lovely profusion. It was a fit time for
the poet’s towering adoration ; the com
munion of kindred spirits, and lover’s
meetings. The stillness of night was
broken only by the gentle zephyrs that
rustled the leaves of the forest around, or
the weary tread of some animal scared
from its slumbers.
Yazard was the lovely daughter of the
Sioux chief, the White Feather of the
nation, and many had been the proud
warrior who had asked the maiden in
marriage; but the old chief was the
haughty prince of a haughty tribe, and
he scorned the offers of all. It gladden
ed the heart of the maiden that it was
so, for already was her choice made, and
her proud spirit would never have brook
ed to have become the bosom companion
of one she could not lovo ; and often in
the retired hour, when thoughts crowd
fast upon the memory, had sho vowed in
the simplicity of her heart, to scorn
death’s triumph, and the grave’s victory,
ere she would yield herself a sacrifice to
another’s love, separate from him her
heart had long since chosen. Often had
she wept in secret, to think that the en
mity of one tribe against another, should
separate them so far. Her heart’s cho
sen, was Vermego, a brave warrior of
the Foxes; and frequently had he trav
elled a long distance to meet his beloved,
and braved a thousand dangers for a
single smile of her’s. Often, too, had he
urged her to fly with him to his own
home, and there be united in the bands
of holy love ; but to this she would not
—she could not leave her dear
father, whose head had whitened under
the frosts of sixty winters, to linger out
his few remaining days in sorrow. The
wars, also, which would most certainly
ensue such an event; the bloodshed and
sorrow' emanating from it chilled her gen
tle nature, and she could not. This,
however, did not prevent their occasional
nightly meetings, and the present beau
titul one was appointed for a conference.
How pure are the first gushings of love
in a youthful heart, when it feels that it
has one person on whom it can lean for
support; one being in this wide world of
sorrows, who wishes it well, and would
smooth his pathway through life; one be
ing, who, though the world may buffet
and despise, will stand by and point ex
ultingly to hope.
With trembling steps Yazard wound
her way to the appointed place of rende
vous. Springing into the shade of a large
spreading oak, she impatiently awaited
her lover’9 coming; every rustle of the
leaves called her eyes in that direction,
hut as often was she doomed to disap
pointment.
“ Why does he not come ?—Why does
he not come ?” murmured Yazard, as she
viewed the thick copse wood that sur
rounded her on all sides. “ Can it be that
he has met some enemyand she start
ed at the picture her excited imagination
•drew. “ But no, I will not think it—he
will be here soon,”—and again she sank
into the retirement of the tree’s shadow.
AUGUSTA WASHINGTONIAN.
A WEEKLY PAPER: DEVOTED TO TEMPERANCE, AGRICULTURE, & MISCELLANEOUS READINGS.
ivoi. hi.]
All was silence, except now and then,
some bird, scared from its nightly habita
tion, broke the stillness of the scene in
endeavoring to obtain another; and at
such times the maiden’s heart would beat
wildly, and she would bend forward and
listen in breathless expectation, but al
ways sink back, exhausted and disapoint
ed, into her former position.
The moon was on the decline, and the
shadows growing darker and darker, but
they still found her waiting, with a bosom
torn by conflicting emotions. It was at
this time that a wary step was heard
among the distant leaves, and once more
the maiden bent her ear to the ground ;
but this time it was no illusion, she cer
tainly heard footsteps, and a smile lit up
her countenance as she sprang forward
with an exclamation of joy in the direc
tion from whence the sound proceeded.
Instead of her long wished lover, a
large panther sprang forward into a small
opening in the copse not far distant, as the
bushes parted, and stood throwing his
firey glances around in all directions.
The maiden well knew her danger, but
so sudden had been the surprise, and so
unprepared had she been for such an
event, that a half smothered shriek was
permitted to escape her lips ere she could
gain any command over herself. She
turned to fly, hut it seemed as if all pow
er of motion had forsaken her, she felt
rooted to the ground as by some magic
spell, while a cold shudder ran through
her frame as she gazed upon her fiendish
enemy. Not long, however, was she
permitted to linger in suspense. The
wild eyes of the panther were still bent
with a subtle and malignant keenness on
| his lovely victim. She saw him as he
fitteJ himself for tiie deadly spring ; the
blood rushed to her countenance, and
throbbed with a visible violence in the
vessclsofher temples, then retreated with
tenfold agitation to the fluttering heart;
a strange and fearful sensation came over
her; all things swam before her impair,
ed vision, mingling in unnatural confu
sion, and with a groan, she sank into in
sensibility.
At that instant the sharp twang of a
bow might have been heard, and with it
a poisonous shaft was sent on its dendly
mission, burying itself deep in the breast
of the ferocious animal; which was im
mediately followed by Vermego, who had
arrived in tho very nich of time. The
arrow had told well, hut when badly
wounded, the panther is a dangerous op.
ponent, which the wary Indian had often
experienced, and cautiously .advancing, a
sure aim was taken, soon rendering life
extinct.
Having accomplished his purpose, Ver
mego turned his attention to the insensi
ble maiden. Bearing her to a small
stream that wound its wav through the
valley beneath, he bathed her temples
profusely with the refreshings liquid,
which was the means of restoring her to
consciousness.
“ The White Feather of the Sioux was
nigh to passing over the black river of
death,” said the warrior, as returning
life lit up her countenance.
“ She waited long for Vermego, but he
came not. Why did his feet tarry to
meet his beloved ?”
•‘The eye of the Sioux braves watched
the windings of the wood, and Vermego
could not pass on. Even now they hunt
his track with the deer’s swiftness. The
night waned ere he could elude the quick
glance of thy nation.”
Now it had been whispered in the ear
of the Sioux chief, how his daughter had
been pressed to the bosom of the Swift
Eagle of the Foxes, in the secret places
of the forest, and his heart burned for re
venge on the miscreant brave, for the
Foxes and the Siouxs were deadly ene
mies. He called not the maiden to ac
count, but watched tho secret passes of
the surrounding country, day and night,
AUGUSTA, GA. MARCH 29, 1845.
with a wary silence. Weeks passed,
but the intended victim came not, and
the watchfulness had considerably de
creased, ere Vermego thought it safe to
venture. But with all his wariness, a
sentinel saw him, and though he escaped
to their customary place of rendezvous,
yet his pursuers were following swiftly
in his footsteps.
The night was far spent, and the meet
ing of the lovers was already drawing to
a close, when the loud warhoop of the
Sioux braves rose on the air, and was
wafted to the ears of the terrified cou
ple. Springing to his feet, Vermego
sent his tiger-like glance around, and
finding himself discovered, sent back a
yell of defiance. Again the warhoop
echoed and re-echoed far and near, but
it served only to impell the lovers on their
flight.
It is a beautiful thing to see, even in
sorrow, a loving couple, young, gifted,
noble, and elevated—whose prospects in
this life are forever blighted by the ha
tred and cold heartlessness of a bitter
world—to see them join band in hand
when dangers surround and harrass them,
as they pass on their solitary way through
life—to see their earthly garden turned
into a barren wilderness, while evils be
set them, and yet swerving not: mazes
and briers thickening around their un
sheltered heads, and yet yielding not:
still resisting and unsubdued, and still
joined together in the inseparable bands
of unperishable love—this indeed is
beautiful—but how sorrowful.
On, onward they fled, impelled on their
flight by the wings of love—in a race of
life or death, their bloodthirsty pursuers
following close in the rear. Fora while
they distanced their enemies, but soon
the feet of the maiden grew weary, and
had not Vermego caught her in his arms,
she must have inevitably perished. With
the madness of despair he rushed up a
deep declivity, he had either forgotten,
or cared not, or knew not whither it led,
and in a few moments he stood on the
brink of a craggy precipice, at whose
base a river whirled through the uplifting
rocks, promising inevitable death to all
who came within the pale of its desola
ting influence. Standing on its edge, he
gazed, first on the roaring torrent below,
and then at his pursuers, whose horrid
yells now burst on his ears in all their
terrible malignity, as they observed his
precarious situation. Casting back his
tribe’s yell of defiance, he drew forth his
tomahawk, and grasping its handle with
a fixed determination, awaited their ap
proach in sullen silence. Already the
hot breath of a hated rival cooled on his
cheek, but it was for a moment only; on
the next instant the weapon was buried
deep into the skull of the quivering vic
tim. A cry of demoniac delight burst
from his lips as he sprang over the prec
ipice with his lovely burden, and for one
moment hung over the vortex of ruin,
and then disappeared beneath the set
tling waters.
The warriors gazed on the place where
they had sunk for a while in breathless
silence, and then with reckless haste
dashed down the declivity to bear the
sad tidings to their old chief. He heard
them without emotion, but from that
hour, death marked him as her own, and
in a few weeks he was laid in his dark,
lasting bier, o’er which the winds sighed
mournfully as if relating the touching
incident that I have here pictured.
March 20th, 1845.
A Man Killed by an Elephent.
We learn by a gentleman who came
passenger last evening on the steamer
Princess, from Baton Rouge, that the
large male elephant of Messrs. Hopkins’
& Co’s Menagerie, on Saturday morn
ing killed the perso n y\ho had been for
some length of time employed to take
charge of it. It appears that the two
elephants and a camel had been sent in
advance of the other animals, en route
j for Clinton, the female elephant and the
camel chained together. When about
four miles from Baton Rouge, the male
elephant refused to cross a small bridge,
the keeper, who was on foot, procured a
horse, (one to which the elephent was not
accustomed to) for the purpose of dri
ving it over, and in attempting to mount,
the horse shved, and threw the man in
the road. The elephant immediately
rushed on him, caught him upon its tusks,
and threw him forty or fifty feet in the
air, which was repeated a great number
of times, the tusks frequently passing
through his body. It then carried the
body from the road towards the woods,
tossing it in the air at intervals, until it
fell between two fallen trees, which saved
it from further violence. The infuria
ted animal then returned to the road,
where the female elephant and the cam
el had been chained to a tree bv another
keeper, and rushed on them, his tusks
passing through the camel, knocking
down the female and breaking the chain
in two. The enraged animal then made
off towards the woods, carrying the camel
by its trunk, and throwing it at intervals
in the air by its tusks. The other por
tion of the caravan now coming to the
bridge, the elephant returned and made
demonstrations of an attnek upon it,
when fire arms were brought into requi
sition. A number of shots were fired
upon it but without any effect. Word
was then sent to the U. S. garrison, and
some thirty or forty of the soldiers were
sent to despatch it with their muskets.—
The neighbors also turned out with their
rifles and shot guns, and some fifty or
sixty shots were fired into or rather
upon him, for the balls were fre
quently flattened upon striking, and fell
to the ground. At length it was deter,
mined upon to send to the garrison for a
field piece to despatch him, when one of
the keepers procuring a spear, mounted
a horse and succeeded in wounding the
elephant until he caused it to scream with
pain and finally to yield to subjection,
when it was driven off with the balance
of the animals. This is the same ani
mal which killed one of its keepers some
two or three years ago, at Algiers, oppo
site this city, and was only stayed from
further mischief after fourteen shots had
been fired into it.— N. O. Bee , 10/7* inst.
Anacharsls.
This prince, though a Scythian by
hirth, distinguished himself so much by
his bravery, his wisdom, and his temper
ance, that the Athenians not only made
him free of their city, (an honor never
accorded by them to any other stranger,)
but ranked him among the Wise Men.—
One of his sayings was, “ The vine hears
three grapes ; the first, pleasure ; the sec
ond, intoxication : the third, repentance.”
lie also observed, that a view of the un
seemly actions of drunken men, is the
most effectual dissuasion from wine.—
When a drunken Athenian, quarrelling
with him, reproached him with being a
Scythian barbarian, he replied, “I know
not that my country is a disgrace to me,
but I know that you are a disgrace to
your country.” Being invited to a feast,
where some of the guests, under the in
fluence of intoxication, diverted the com
pany by their foolish antics, lie preserved
his seriousness ; but an ape being brought
in he laughed heartily at the animal’s
capers, and observed, “ This creature is
ridiculous by nature, but man becomes
so against naturfe.”
The Force of Custom.
Plato seeing a boy playing at dice, re
buked him for it; the youth replied, it
was a slight matter. *• But,” replied
Plato, “custom is no slight matter.”
If you admonish a person who is help
mg himself to a glass of wine he will
probably reply that a glass or two is a
slight matter; but a few years of lamen
table experience will teach him that cus
tom is no slight matter. This is a truth
that every parent should bear in mind,
and impress on their children, when dis
posed to any improper indulgence, which
however trivial it may appear at the mo
ment, as a custom, prove pernicious.
The influence of custom was very for
cibly illustrated on one occasion, by Ly
curgus, the Spartan law-giver. Having
assembled the people in a public place,
he produced two dogs, the one a grey
hound, the other a spaniel. Presently,
two of his servants arrived ; one of these
put down a plate of broken meat, and
the other let loose a hare, —on which to
the astonishment of the spectators, the
spaniel gave chase to the bare, and the
Washingtonian
TOTAL ABSTINENCE PLEDGE.
We, whose names are hereunto an
nexed, desirous of forming a Society for
our mutual benefit, and to guard against
a pernicious practice, which is injurious
to our health, standing and families, do
pledge ourselves as Gentlemen, not to
drink any Spirituous or Malt Liquors,
Wine or Cider.
[No. 37.
greyhound to the plate. “ Behold !” ex
claimed Lycurgus, “ how superior custom
is to nature. By training a spaniel to
chase, I have made him an excellent
hunting-dog; while by pampering the
greyhound in idleness and gluttony, it has
become good for nothing but to lick a
dish ! Therefore, oh, my countrymen !
accustom yourselves and your children
betimes to virtuous and manly pursuits*”
A rat has been killed in Philadelphia,
measuring two feet from nose to tail, and
nine inches round the body,
TinlE FAMEIK,
From the Temperance Standard.
Grape Vines.
Ihe vine has, through all ages and in
every nation, received particular atten
tion. That this universal popularity is
based upon something more than fashion,
wo have the most conclusive evidence.
1 here is no truit more delicious and re
freshing than the fruit of the vine. It is
agreeable to all palates, and in its ripe
state may be safely eaten by persons in
every condition ; it is a most grateful
and reviving food for the invalid, and an
invigorating luxury for the hale and hear
ty'. Ihe cultivation of it is easy, and
any one who has a few feet of land,
whether in town or country, can raise
his own grapes with little trouble. As
the season for transplanting is at hand,
a few observations on setting out vines
are here offered.
Soil. A rich, deep, sandy soil suits
the vine best in out door culture, no mat
ter how hot or dry the situation may be;
retentive clay soils are extremely unfa
vorable. Writers have erred in recom
mending soils that are too rich and
strong; like all other fruit trees, the vine
grows more luxuriantly in rich, deep
soils, but the shoots and fruit ripen later
if they ripen at all, and the fruit will be
insipid. In a shallow, light soil, the
growth is moderate, the shoots are small
although not weak, the bunches numer
ous, well ripened and of high flavor. “It
is a matter of wonder,” observes Mr.
Rogers, an experienced and thorough
cultivator, “ to see what some writers have
advised respecting the formation of vine
borders. Vast accumulations of the
i idlest soils and manures are mixed to
gether as if for the gross feeding drum
head cabbage, rather than for the deli
cate feeding and abstemious grape, which
in its native habitation is content to climb
upon and subsist by what it can draw from
the interstices of the naked rock.”
Iloare in his justly celebrated Treatise,
observes that, “The soil which is most
congenial to the growth of the vine, and
to the perfection of its fruit, is a rich, san
dy loam, not more than eighteen inches
deep, on a dry bottom of gravel, stones or
rocks. One principal cause of grapes
not ripening well is the great depth of
mould in which the roots are suffered to
run, which, enticing them to penetrate in
search of food below the influence of the
sun s rays, supplies them with too great a
quantity of water: vegetation is there
by carried on till late in the summer, in
consequence of which, the ripening pro
cess does not commence till the declina-’
tion of the sun becomes to rapid to afford
a sufficiency of solar heat to perfect the
fruit.”
Manure. It has been proved by re
peated experiments that the best manure
lor vines, is the branches pruned from
the vines themselves, cut into small pie
ces, and mixed into the soil by means of
a garden hoe. Several instances are
mentioned of vines being kept in a thrif
ty condition from ten to thirty years by
the trimmings from them alone. Kind
j and quantity of manure will, however, be
affected by the nature of the soil and
situation in which the vine is placed,—
When animal manure is applied it should
be perfectly rotted : the dust and dirt of
roads, horn shavings, old woolen rags,
(an old coat planted by a grape vine will
thus continue to be useful,) leather sha
vings, bone dust, <fcc., are all appropriete
fertilizers.
Some remarks on pruning will be giv
en at another time.
Scours in Sheep. —To stop the scours
in sheep, (says a correspondent of the
Albany Cultivator,) give them a small
quantity of salt pork: if administered
soon after they are attacked, two or three
doses will generally effect a cure. I have
given it to neat cattle for the same com
plaint, and with good effect.