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A NARRATIVE OF FRONTIER LIFE. CHAPTER X N , CONTINUED. . g Just as night was setting in* the party came in sight of the grove where Mary was concealed. They now slackened their pace, and drew near the dark woods quite cautious ly. When they entered the edge of the .grove, they heard the war-party utter the , yell which had awakened Mary..,, It was fully understood by Boone, and the friendly Indian assured them from the sound, that, the war-party had just returned, and were, at that moment leaving the encampment on hjis trail, jjiiit he rtatoA that they could not >v»»\ p;> 1^-to mflidoo- ,-A^a JL Ixo 1 gested to'the whites a plan to attack them, which was to station themselves near tho place where he Ijad emerged from the grove, after hiding Mary. So that when they fol lowed on his trail they could thus bo sur prised without difficulty. This advice was was adopted by Boone. Tho Indian then asked permission to depart, saying ho had paid tho white men for sparing his life. * “ Oh, no!1’ pried Joe, when Roughgrove interpreted the Indian’s request; “ keep him as a hostage— he may be cheating us.” “ I do mot sec tho impropriety, o f Joe’s remarks, this time,” said Glenn. r / > . “ Ask him where he will go, if we suffer him to .depart,” said Boone. T o Rough- grove’s interrogation the Indian made a pas-? sionate reply. He said the white men were liars. They , were now quits. Stijl the white men were not satisfied. He had o f the log, not thinking that Mary had left her covert. They all soon met at the fallen tree, under which was the pit, except Glenn, who sprang forward in pursuit o f the chief, and Sneak, who had made a wide circuit, for the purpose o f reaching tho scene o f ac tion from an opposite direction, entirely re gardless o f the danger o f being shot by Jiis friends. ~ :%ru . • ’ '•* - * “ She’s gone! She’s gorie!” exclaimed Roughgrove, looking aghast at the .vacated pit under the fallen trunk. But wo will have her risked his life, (and would probably be tor tured,) to pay back the white man’s kindness.) But they would not believe his words. He ‘ ‘ was willing to die now. The white men might shoot him. He would as lieve die as live. I f suffered to depart, it was his inten tion to steal his squaw away from the tribe, and join tho Pawnees. He would never bo an Osage again. O O . , j . “ Go!” said Boone, perceiving by a ray o f moonlight, that reached tho Indian’s face through the clustering branches o f the trees above, that he was in tears. The savage without speaking another word, leaped out into the prairie, and from the circuitous di rection, he pursued, it was manifest that * nothing could be farther from his desire, than to fall in with the war-party. - ■ - • * : ■ & Boone now directed the sled to be aban doned, and obedient to his will, .the party entered a small covert in the immediate vi cinity o f tho spot where their guide said he had emerged from the grove on his return to meet the whites. Here the party long remained ensconced, silent and listening, and expecting every moment to see the foe. A t length Boone grew impatient, and con cluding they,would encamp that night un- — —» -VA’-r- > «- ^ Ky-r*T XvrTT&tJ* i&nuU&r with,) he rcsolv^. and -surpii^b them, l i e WasT^fengthened in this determination by the repeated And painfulsurmises of Roughg¥ove, respecting Mary’ s piteous condition. Glenn, and the rest, with perhaps one or two exceptions; likewise sc< disposed to make an instan taneous termination o f tH^hrilling suspense, j.o ■tftru.rtfr oi ctiti ~ crrsxrnar ge a pistom tew paces apart in the bushes. The report was followed by a yell, not from the chief, but Sneak, and the next moment the rifle of tho latter was.likowise heard. Still the Indian was not despatched, for the instant afterward, his tomahawk, -which was hurled without effect, came sailing over the bushes, and penetrated a tree hard by, some fifteen or twenty feet above the earth, where it enter ed the wood with such force that it remain ed perfectly fixed. Now succeeded a strug gle— a violent blow was heard— the fall of the Indian, and all was comparatively still. A minute afterward Sneak emerged from the thicket, bearing the inanimate body o f Mary in his arms, and followed by Glcnn.j “ Is she dead? Oh, she’s dead!” cried. Roughgrovo, snatching her .from the arms of Sneak. ! / ’ She has only fainted!” exclaimed Glenn, examining the body o f the pale girl, and finding no wounds. rr “ She is recovering!” said Boone, feeling her pulse. ' “ ' ’ : - ..... ~-A-i : / ’ ’iSfGod be praised!” exclaimed Roughgrove, when returning animation was manifest. “ Oh! I know you won’t kill me! For pity sake spare me!” said Mary. “ It is your father, my poor child!” said Roughgrove, pressing the girl to his heart. “ It is! it is!” cried the happy girl, cling-, ing rapturously to tho old man’s neck, and then seizing the hands o f the rest, she seem ed to be half wild with delight. “ Dod— I— I mean that none o f the black noetilcrous savages shall ever hurt you, as long as Sneak lives,” said Sneak, looking down at his gun, which had been broken off at the breech. -“ flow did you do that?” asked Boone. “ I broke it over the yaller feller’s head,” said Sneak, “ and I’d do it again, before he should hurt Miss Mary, i f it is the only one I’vcrp'ot.1’ ^ ,v will find him, for I saw him fall down when he discharged his musket. I venture to say he has not moved an inch since.” The party repaired to the place mentioned, and there they found Kim, sure enough, lying quite still on his face beside the Indian that Sneak had killed. ' — . * . “ Ho is dead!” said Glenn, after calling to his man and receiving no answer. • ' “ W o ’ ll soon see,” said Boone, turning him over on his back. “ I will open a vein in his ar*n.” 1 . “ Bring a torch from the fire,” said Col. Cooper to orte o f the men. “ Oh!” sighed Joe, lifting his hands to his head. * f: . ( “ I thought he would soon come to life again,” said Boone, examining bis face with the. torch that was brought, and then laugh ing outright. The spectacle was ludicrous in the extreme. Joe was besmeared all over with blood, and when he opened his I eves and stared at the f* Jjyrht.. hA rQ- ' y V liere m \ in£ worltf^ did all this blood who was busily engaged ^ t h a lorit switch, that he occasionallyihryist ip the nre, and when the end was burnt tft a coal, sidy ap plied it to the heel young chiefs moccasin. “ You’d better not lot ketch that,” said Sneak. “ He’ll think it’s a tick bLng him- to see i f the Indians scratd like other poo- \ you at •I want ploy’ apid Joe.. Mary being so requests by her father, began to relate ^everyth! n& that transpired up to her rescue, while .slfftvas in tho pos- he Indian rivited the recital, and . Whether/he was encharjted ones, could !not ners more ihan respectiif^ the fate of the poor girl. Boone and Sneak led the way. The par ty were compelled to proceed with the ut most caption. Sometimes they were forced to crawl many paces on their hands and knees under the pendant snow covered bushes.. They drew near the spreading tree. . A fire was buring under it, the flick ering rays of which could be occasionally seen glimmering through the branches. A stick was heard to crack\ a little distanco on one side, and Boone and Sneak sank down on tjie snow, and whispered to the rest to follow their example. It was done without a repetition o f the order. Joe was the hind most one o f all, but after lying a few min utes in silence, he crept softly forward, trem bling all the while. When he reached tho side o f Boone, the aged woodsman did not chide him, but simply pointed his finger at a small decayed log a few paces distant.— Joe looked but a moment, and then p ilin g his hat over his eyes, laid down flat on his face, in silence and submission. * An Indian . was seated on the log, and very composedly cutting off the dr v* bark with his tomahawk. Once or twice her paused and remained a moment in a listening attitude. But proba- . bly thinking the sound he heard (if he heard any,^proceeded from some comrade like himself in quest of fuel, he continued to cut away, until'an arm-full was obtained, and then he very deliberately arose and walked in an almost noiseless step to the fire, which was not more than fifty yards distant.— Boone rose softly and whispered the rest to follow. He was promptly obeyed by all ex cept Joe, !• ^ * “ Come, sir! prepare yoAur musket to fire,” eaid Boone, stooping down to Joe, who still remained apparently frozen to the snow- crust. * ■ ‘I have an oxtra rifle at home,” said Glenn, “ which shall be yours, as a reward for your gallant services.” \ ‘ “ Where is the chief ? Is ho dcad?” -asked u I_t‘-U © a i w t cLen.ci, KV» k o a - d ’ a H a r d e r till a n my gun,:—that’ s all,’’ said S n e a k ^ “ Oh, I’ m so sorry!” said Mary. W h y , my child?” asked Roughgrove. V ^ B o c a u s e ” said .Mary, “ he’ s a good hiSfrted Indian, and never would have hurt me. W h en he hoard you coming, and raised his tomahawk to kill me, I looked in his face, and he could not strike, for there were tears in his eyes! I know he never-would have thought o f killing mo, when calm,-for lie- treated me very kindly before I escaped.” “ May be he aint dead— I’U-go and see,” said Sneak, repairing to the/late scene of conflict. W h en he arrived he found the young chief sitting* upright, having been only stunn ed; a gold band that confined his head-dress, prevented the blow from fracturing his skulk He was now unresisting and sullen. Sneak made’ him rise up, and after binding his hands come from!” exclaimed G lenn.. . “ I’m recovered now!” said Joe,.rising up and assuming an air o f importance. “ What have you been doing?” asked Glenn. • * / ; / • / ; • “ I’ ve been doing as much as any of you, I’ ll be bound,” replied Joe, very gravely. “ Well, what liape you done?” repeated Glenn. /: /*&#/■** “ I’ve been fighting the last half hour, as hard as anybody ever fought in this world. Only look at the s.tabs in that Indian!” said Joe, pointing to the savage. “ W h y , you scoundrel! Sneak killed this Indian,” said Glenn. . \j\ “ Sneak thought he did,” replied, Joe, “ but he only wounded him. After a while he got up and clinched me by the throat; and we hadMt over and over on the snow, till we both got so exhausted we eould’nt do any thing. a W hen we rested, wo went at it again, and it has’nt be£n five minutes since I stuck my knife /bisjjireast^ When he fell, I stuck hittiJfSuro£^v(^times, and then faint ed m y s e l f /- ;^ y j ' , 'V ’ M lierafe i wpund in the savage’s breast,” said Glenn.,;/ ‘ : . ;. ? r “ But/Here’s another in therIthroat,” said Boone, showing were both tho arteries had been severed by Sneak. : “ Joe,” said Glenn, “ you must abandon this habit o f lying, i f indeed it is not a por tion o f your nature.” “ Hang it all, I aint lying— I know Sneak did cut his throat, but he did’nt cut it deep— I cut it deeper *, myself, after the Indian got up again!” persisted Joe* ’ . ,* •, The party now hastily glanced at the four or five dead savages under the trees, that had fallen victims to their fire, and then returned to the sled. Mary was placed-beside the captive chief, anc^th<^iset out on their re turn, well, satisfip^^jth the result of, the expedition*;;v. - session o f the savages, his eyes upon her during seemed to mark every wc understood all she said, < with her soft and musical be ascertained; buV.the li once observed with SstoniKment his gldam- ing eyes, his attentive ^ttiple, and the] in tense interest exhibited infiis face. It was ^ t I p joo : threw down his switch,^ctvulsed with in ternal laughter. Sneak lined back against the . wall, and while he grilled at the amus ing1 scene, seemed curioul to know what would bo the result. Mary Aused,and Glenn inquired th^fbause of the hierruption. “ It’ s nothing, hardly,” s^l Sneak: “ only a spark o f fire got agin the Indian’s foot.— He aint as good pluck as th| other one we had-^-he -could stand burnijg at the stake without flinching.” “ Did cither o f you place khe fire against his foot?” demanded GiefiB, something like anger. But before he ^fould receive an answer, the young chief, who had whirled round furiously, and cast ajerce look at his' tormentor, relaxing his kiJTS* brows into an “ Oh! I’ m sb sick!” replied Joe; “ If you do not keep with us, you will lose your scalp to a certainty,” said Boone. Joe was well in a second. The party was now about midway between the fallen trunk where Mary was concealed, and the great encampment-tree. Boone rose erect for an instant, and beheld the former, and the sin gle Indian (the chief) 'who was there. One of the Indians again started out from the fire, in the direction o f the whites, for more fuel. Boone once more passed the word for his little band to lie down. The tall savage came within a few feet o f them. His tomahawk accidently fell from his hand, and in his endeavor to catch it, he knocked itwithin a few inches- o f Sneak’s head.— He .stepped carelessly aside and stooped clown for it. A straggling and gushing pound was heard, and falling prostrate, he dtad without a groan. Sneak -had nearly severed his head from his body at one blow With his hunting knife. • * \ At this juncture Mary sprang from her hiding place. H e r’ cry reached the ears of her father, but beforo ho could run to her assistance, the chief’ s voice Tang in loud tones through tho forest. Boono and the rest sprang forward, and fired upon the sav- • ages under the spreading tree. At the sec ond discharge the Indians gave way, and while Col. Cooper, the oarsmen and the neighbors that had joined the party in the morning, pursued the flying foe, Boone and the remainder ran toward the fallen trunk where Mary had been concealed, but ap proaching in different directions. Glenn was t h e w s t to rush upon tho chief, and it was his ball that whizzed so near the Indi an’ s head, when ho bore away the shrieking maiden. The rest only fired in the direction behind him with astrongcord, led him forth., “ You did not intend to kUl me, did you?” asked Mary, in soothing to i f l l k T h e chief regarded her not, but lookeo*&teadfastly downward. _ , ^ . “ Ho don’t Understand you, Mary,” said “ Oh, yes he doos,^^’^as^tinueaTMar^ “ and he can speak our language too, for I heard him talking, and ta u g h t it was you, and that was the reason why I came out o f tho pit.” . Roughgrove now addressed him in his op language, but with no bettersuccess. Tiie.captured chief resolved not to plead for life. He would make no reply whatever to their questions, but still gazed downward in reckless sullenness. ■-.wo ■ y “ W h at shall we do with him?” asked Glenn, when the rest o f the p&rty, (with the exception o f Joe,) who had chased the sav ages far away, came up and. stared atifche prisoner. , f . 1 “ Let us set him free!” said RougH§?Sve “ Kill Kim!” cried several./ “ N o!” exclaimed Mary, “ what do you say, Mr. Boone?” “ It would be useless to kill him,” said Boone. * .. •' , * “ Let him go, thon,” said Glenn. “ N o!” said Boone. “ Why?” asked Glenn. . T “ Because,” replied\Boone, “ he is a chief, and we may make him the means o f securing tho settlement against future attacks. W e will cpnfine him in your garrison as a hostage, and send some friendly Indian to the Osages announcing his capture, and informing thpm that his life will be spared provided they will keep1 away from the settlement for a j certain length of time, at the expiration of which ho shall be restored to them.” “ I am glad of that,” said Mary, “ for I don’t believe he is a bad Indian. W e will treat him kindly, and then I think he will always be our friend.” “ Take him along, and bind him fast in the sled, Speak,” said Boone; “ but see that you (Jo not injure him in tho least*” ;“ I will-—Oh, me and him are pretty good friends now. Geo-whoa-haw,” continued Sneak, taking hold o f the string behind, and endeavoring to drive the silent captive like s^n. ox, T b o young chief syjurlod round in- aignantly, and with such force as to send Sneak sprawling several paces to one side. Ho rose up amid tho laughter that ensued, and remembering the words of Boone, con ducted his prisoner away in a more respect ful manner. . . “ Where’s Joe?” at length inquired Glenn, seeing that all but hirp had returned from the chase. ■ , J / - ... “ Oh! I’m afrajd he’s dead,” said Mary. “ I f he is, I shall mourn his loss many a day,” said Glenn; “ for with all his defects, I would not be without him for tho world.” “ Give yourself no uneasiness,” said Boone; “ for he is as well at this moment as you or I .” “ I hope so,” said Glenn; “ but I have not seen him since wo first fired at the Indians.” . “ Let us repair to that spot, and there we - .' '• ' * C H A P T E R X I I I . ' v The party on their return did not travel so rauidly as/ they had_iadvanc.ecL ^..Thny iTrcxxdyjjjTTiairca m _3 l grove vyji ich tucycs-1 pied about tTTidnight, and finding- a spreading treo thaJ^-ba^pntiroiy shielded a small space o f groun<itfOT^|fes now, they kindled a fire, aTrang*ed the»^^by3s, and reposed a few hours. -T h e captive chief was; still sullen ail’d unresisting. - He was suffered to recline in the sled enveloped in skins, with his hands and feet yet bound, and an extra cord was passed around his body, the end o f which Sneak held in his hand while he slept. W h en daylight appeared, they set forward again in a moderate pace, and arrived at Glenn’s domicil at evening* twilight. The neighbors that Sfieak had enlisted, now de parted for their homes1, and Boone and Col. Cooper, after bidding our hero, Roughgrove and Mary, a hearty adieu, without entering the enclosure, recrossed the /r iver to thoir own settlement. / The remainder o f tho party, except the oarsmen, accepted Glenn’s invitation to re main with him till morning. W hen the gate was thrown open, the faithful hounds manifested great delight to again behold 1 1 11 ur master, and particiil^x E most impossible to walk* They barked in Ccstacy. The poor fawn had been forgotten, neglected, and had suffered much for fodd. Mary placed her arm round its neck and wept. Glenn ordered Jpe, who Was in the stable caressing dip horses, to;feed the droop ing pet instantly. ‘ . ’ / - • • The party then entered the house, leading in the chief, and soon after Sneak had.-a j bright fire blazing on the earth# The food that, remained from the last repast amply sufficed, the captive refusing to partake with them, and Joe having dined during the last twelve miles of the journey oil the way. / “ H ow we’ ll be able to keep this Indian here, when we go out sometimes, I \should Jike to know,” said Joe, regarding the man ly and symetrical form o f the young chief, who was now unbound, and sat silent and thoughtful by the fire. • • • j - “ I think he ought to bp killed,” ; said Sneak. , ' . . ? ! if- Oh, no!” said Mary, “ he is not bad like the; other Indians.” The Indian, for. the first time since his capture, raised his head while sho spoke,'and looked scarchingly in her face*. continued Mary, thinking o f the horrors o f savage warfare, and burst ing into tears, “ you will never attempt to kill any o f us again, will you?” “ N o !” said the chief, in a low but distinct tone. Every one in the house but Mary, started. / ‘ < / •: “ You rupderstand our language, do you? Then why did you not answer my questions?” asked Roughgrove, turning to tho captive. The young chief made no answer, but sat with his arms folded, and stilH egarding the features of Mary. * i “ He’s a perfect fool!” said Sneak. * / • / “ He’s a snake in the grass, and’ll bite some of us some o f these times, before we know anything about it,” said Joc^ . ^ Be silent,” said Glenn. the hope that tills my breast should be realized, the young (jjiief will oauee. m o re: TeiQieing than sorrowing among us. The wisdom o f Prov idence surpasses the human understanding. Events that bear a frightful import to the limited comprehension o f mortal3, may, nev ertheless, be fraught with inestimable bless ings. Even tho circumstances o f your cap ture, Mary, however distressing’ at the time to yourself and to all your friends, may some da^d>e looked upon as a happy and fortunate occurrence.” - expression o f contempt, very deliberately took hold of Joe’s ear, ar^d iturning* on his heel like a pivot, forced him'to make many circles round him on the floor. “ L et go my car!” at length roared Joe, in pain, v \ ... > ?' “ Hold 3 'our holt, my ^fflivcrous yaller prairie dog!” said Snea^.^^pressibly a- mused. r \ \ / “ Let go my ear, I say\*/cried Joe,* still trotting round, with both fynds grasping the Indian’s wrist. “ Mr. Glftm! Mr. Glenn!” continued Joe, “ he’s pinehpg a hole clean through my ear! Shoot Jim down! shoot him down! there’s my gun standing against the wall—rbut it’s not loaded! take my knife — oh, he’s tearing my ear clean o ff!” W hen the Indian thought ne-wat sufficiently pun ished, he led him back to /?;& seat and relin quished his hold;. He then resumed his own seat, and composedly turning his eyes to Mary, seertied to desire her to proceed with the narration.; She did so. but when she spoke o f her attempt to escape in the prair(e, o f the young ;chief’s noble conduct, and his, admiration of her ring, (and she pulled off her glove and exhibited it as she spoke,4) he again rose from his seat,' and walking, ap parently unconciously, to where she reclined upgn her father’s lap, fixed his eyes upon the jewel in a most mysterious manner. our manners and speech— bless his aged fa ther’s declining years?and return to his sis ter’s fond affection.” ' * - . ^ r ^fOh! Mr. Glenn! is he then alive? is this he?” cried Mary. \ / * - * “ No, child!” said Roughgrove, “ do not think o f such a thing, for you will be most bitterly disappointed. Your brother was white — look at this Indian’s dark face!” Glenn approached the chief, extending bis hand in a friendly manner. It was frankly grasped. Glenn then gently drew tho furs aside, api^xgosed the young man’s shoul der. ' I t was aswhite as'his ow n !. Rough- gvovo, Mary, and all, looked, on in wonder. The young chief regarded it with singalar emotions himself. He seemed to associate it in some manner with the ring he held, for he glanced from pne to the other alternately. “ Did Mary wear that ring before the child was lost?” asked Glenn. _ •“ N0,” ^ rnunJ(Wt • Z r t believe,hev is your son!*5 said Glenn. “ Mary,” he continued, “ have you any trink ets or toys, you u,$ed to play With?” '“ Y es. Oh, let me get them!” she re plied, and running to one corner o f the room where her father’s chests and trunks had been placed, sho produced a small drum and a brass toy cannon. “ He used to play wil'h these from morning till night,” she continued, placing them on the floor/ She had not taken her hand-away from them, before the young chief sprang to her side and cried out: . . . . » . • ' ' “ They’re- mine! they’ re mine! they’ re William’s!” / t;/ ’ * “ W hat was the child’s name?” asked Glpnnj quickly. /;,>/:•' ~ *, - 1 • m t .^.“ William! William!” cried Ma^y.. “ It is my brother! it is my poor brother W il liam!” and without a moment’s hesitation she threw her arms around liis n6ck?and riadgh- “ I’ ll steal one for m — Worn, enrrrer. said be. sobbed upon his breast! ••/./ ‘^The poor, poor child!” said Roughgrove, in /tremulous tones, embracing them both, hiS eyos^ilhid withXoavs. - ^ i “ Sister! where’ s father?— Sister!” said the youth, gazing in partial bewilderment alternately at them both. ^ - -r -./.‘I will be your .father, my dear ehilR!” said the old tnan. * :■ / .] -1 ...rj / “ Brother, brother! I am your sister!’ ’ said Mary, ii) tones of thrilling tenderness. - “ But mother! where’s mother?” asked the » . . youth.^|®i^vfather and sister bowed their beads ^Sifehce. The youth after clinging fondly to Mary a few minutes, started up abruptly and looked amazed, as if awaking frqrn a sWeet dream to the reality o f his re cent dreadful condition < v . -< > - fast asleep, and her basket of egg by her,” said Mary; “now let me r next: ‘She went to market, All on the market day, And she fell asleep On the king’ s highway/ Now do you read about the pedlgfr, broth er—-mother used to say there was ty word in it.” “ I will,” , cried the youth, eagerly—but he paused and looked steadfastly at the picture before him. “ W h y don’t you read?” asked Mary, en deavoring to confine his thoughts to the childish employment. “ That’s a pretty skin , ain’t it?” said he, pointing to the red shawl painted on the pic ture. “ S/vi/t” — said Mary, “ why that’s shawl, brother.” y sfluaw ” r p’ know, mother says WO nitts tell stories, nor say bad words.” “ That’ s right, brother. But you havn’t got an ugly squaw , have you?” • “ No indeed, sister that I Jiavfft!” “ I thought you wouldn’t have anything to do with the ugly squaws.” “ That I wouldn’t —mines a pretty one.” “ Oh, heaven!” cried the weeping girl, throwing herself on her brother’s bosom. He kissed her, and strove to comfort her, and turned to the book and continued to turn over the leaves, while Mary sat by in sadness, but ever and anon replying to his childish questions, and still striving to keep him thus‘diverted. r / “ Have you any o f the clothes' you W6re \yh.en he was a child?” asked Glenn ad dressing Roughgrove. ?. “ Yes replied the old-man, and seizing up on the thought, ho unlocked the trunk that contained them and put them on,. ’ 4' “ Where’s mother?” suddenly asked- the young_ehiefi . \ — / ; _ • “ Oh, she’ s dead!” said Mary. ■ “ Dead? I know better!” said he emphat ically*,/: : / . :3‘ ■: /'/ “ Indeed she is, brother,” repeated Mary in tears. ; - • ‘ - ; ” “ W hen did she die?” he continued in a musing attitudo. ' / ; * . “ A long time ago— ^when you wereaway,” .said she. /• , / : . v ' / ; » : “ I wasn’t gone away long, was I?” he asked with much simplicity. .• *» “ Oh, very long—>we thought you Were I dead.” , / * , / H : • “ He, wasfla very bad Indjan to steal me away without asking mother. But where’ s father? Is he dead, too?” he continued, lift ing his eyes and beholding Roughgrove at tired in a suit of velvet, and wearing broad silver knee-biicklcs* . “ Father! father!” be cried, eagerly clasping the old man in his arms. * - “ My poor boy, I will be your father still!” said Roughgrove. J - “ I know you will,” said the youth, “ for eorrtemplatiwf ot- the ring'* trayed so much simplicity aea. inofleusiveT ness that M ary continued her speech. r<£ H e’ s got a notion to stea l that ring,” said Joe, with a sneer* • /< V “ Shot your mouth!” ^aid Sneak, observ ing that Mary looked reproachfully at Joe, and paused. / “ Don’t talk that way, J o c r said the of fended girl. “ I f he wanted it, why did he not take it when I was his prisoner? I .will freely let. him have it now,” she continued, slipping it from her finger “ No!*rkeop it child— it is a family ring,” said Rpughgrovc.. r . . </. -i/ ! “ I wjlj lend it te him— I know he will give it to me again,” she continued, placing it in the extended hand o f the young chief, who thanked her with his eyes, and resumed his seat. Ho' now seemed to disregard eve rything that - was ,said or done, and only ga zed at the ring, which he held first in one hand and then in the other, with the spark ling diamonds uppermostr- - Bometimes he -WAVi/1 rffIneil 'gfcte’ nx /tncr~nng again. - Then staring wildly round, and slightly starting, he would bite his fingers, to ascertain whether the scene was reality or a (Iream. Finally, giving .vent to a piteous sigh, while a tear ran down his stjfced cheek, he placed his elbows upon1 his Winces, and bending forward, seemed to muse ovor some events o f the past, which the jewel'before him had called to remembrance.. ./ r / i Glenn narrowly watched every look and motion o f the youiig chief, and when Mary had finished the account o f het capture, he introduced the subject of-the lost child,’ Mary’s brother, that Roughgtovo had spoken about before starting in pursuit o f Mary’s captors. * < v ./;/ ->r “ I can romember him!” said Mary, “ and mother too— they are both in heaven now— poor brother! poor mother!” * The young chief raised hifhead quickly, and staring at the maiden’s ace, seemed toi regard her tears and her features with* an interest similar to that o f aeiild, when it be- holds a rare and curious to “ Has it not occurred to Ion,” said Glenn, “ Brother, why do you look so coldly at jfs?. W h y don’t you press its to your heart?” said Miry, still/clinging to h im .' The youth’ s features gradually assumed a grave and haughty cast, and turning away, he walk/d to the stool he had occupied and sat dow^n in silence. ^ / h to see hifn thus, is worse than*to ha/o lost him forever!” said Roughgrove, re s t i n g his seat, and covering his face with I you always loved me a great deal, and now (*£4*^ 5 •*tit** / ----- _______________________________________ BJ - . W sCalC*d WltH H\a— . , . “j Indeed I will poor child! '' But you M u st ! a n t h e r mother, and prusentrrrg- r/rwjj not g o back to tho naughty savages any j varj°us richly bound books, jewels^ which seemed to-me to be received with I was welcomed wit.ft sa i d J V I a ? y r u r t n i n o 1 t o h o t b r d l h o r , -and a i t - ting, down at His side. . fto ’ > <{i • r ’ • “ CJgh!” e^glaimed the; youth* injdf^plfcas- ure, anch frowning, moved a short distance aw a y .r'^ ' , “ He’s not true grit— Thriost wish I had a-kilfed him,” said Sneak. / . .“ Yes, and hang me if I don’t burn him again, i f I get a chance,” said * “ S ilence!” said Glenn, sternly. For ma ny minutes not a word was spoken: At length Mary, who had be on jobbing raised her head and ldokod tbnderly in the face of her brother* • Still ho regarded her with in difference. She then seized the toy-drum, which with the other Articles had been thrust Out o f view and* placed them before him.— When his eyes rested ilpdn them, the se vere and wild expression o f his features again relaxed. Mary then beat upon the drum as she was wont to do-in infancy. The young war-chief was a child again*— He abandoned his seat and sat down on the floor beside his sister. Looking her guile- 'smite piayba \upon o& hQVVrfe p k y /j'sa M he, gently. forcing the sticks irom his 'sister’s hand, and rapping the drum-head with evident marks o f delight. ■ * / “ You won’t go away; again, and leave your poor sister, will you, William?” said Mar-yrrj -f / - /• - •' / /•) “ No, , indeed I won’t. * And when the naughty Indians come, we’ ll run away and go to mother, wont we Mary?” said the youth in complete abandonment o f time and condition. * - • . mildly qhill her daughter for wandering so far away in quest of flowers and then with«J drawing left us alone. Again my eyes met those o f the blushing maiden—but it j.s u n less to dwell uppn the particulars o f our mu tual passion. Suffice it to say, that she wae the only chlild of her widowed mother, in moderate but independent circumstances,- and being hitherto secluded from the socie ty of the other sox, soon conceived (for my visits were froquent,) an affection as ardent as my own. At length I apprised my fath er of the attachment and asked his consent t\) our union. He refused to sanction tho alliance in the most positive terms, and commanded me never to mention tho sub ject again. He said I was poor, and that he would not consent to my marriage with any other than an heiress. I returned to London resolved to disobey his injunction, for I felt that my ha Tj*at/i 4 1 ^ nm could bb no doifbfc rom her looks, that my wishes would w*i\-' lingly be acceded to. I determined to ar range. every'hing i t our. next interview, and a few weeks afterward I repaired to tho cottage.for that purpose. Instead of meet ing me with her ever blissful smile, I found my Juliet in tears! She was alone, but in the adjoining chamber I heard a man’s voice, and feared that it was my father. 1 was mistaken. Juliet soon brushed ctVay her tears and informed me that she had again been assailed by the same ruffians* and on the lawn within sight o f the cottage* She said that the gentleman in tho liext room was her deliverer. -I seized herhrnd* and when about to propose .a plan to secure her against such annoyances forever, her D •> mother entered and introduced tho stranger tom e. His name was Nicholson, and ho stated that he was a partner in a largo banking establishment in — street. * H o was past the bloom of youth, but still hi# finfe clothes and his .reputed wealth were displeasing to mb. 1 was especially- dlmfe grined at the maked attention shown him by Juliet’s mother* And my annoyance was increased by the .frequent lascivious glances he east at the maiden. The rooro I marked him the more was nw uneasiness'. • ^ It soon occurred to me that I had seen him before! He resembled a person I had seen driving rapidly along the highway in a char iot, on the morning that I first beheld my Juliet. . But my recollection of his features was indistinct. There was a condescend ing subvity in his manners, ond sometime^ a positive \and commanding tone in hlsy eoii- Versation, that almost roused my enmity in spite of my peaceful calling A p A friendly disposition. It was my intention to remain at the cottage arid propose to Julj.et after he had departed. But my purpose was de feated, for he declared his intention to en joy the country air till evening, and I re turned disappointed and dispirited to tho city. ‘ L. “ A few days after I visited the. cottage a srAijv. W h a t was my surprise and v sxatiqry Nicholson therb! .Kewr/de fw\ w i V W V.ic* __ more.' The youth gazed round in silence and / much gratification. H e wasas evidentlyviuentiya awaken- made no reply. lie w e ing to a consciousness o f his condition* A frown of horror darkened his brow as he contemplated the scenes o f his wild abode amonff the Indians, and when he contrasted pi , - . . his recent mode o f life to the elysian days o f his childhood now fresh in his merriory, mingled emotions o f regret, fear and bliss, seemed to be. contending in his bosom. A cold dampness settled on his forehead, his limbs trembled violently, and distressful sighs issued from his heaviiig breast.— Gradually he sank down on a couch at his side, arid closed his eyes. /• “ When some minutes had elapsed, during which a deathlike silence tvas maintained, Mary tripped lightly to where her father stood, and inquired if her brother was sick.- “ No,” said Roughgrove, in a whisper, “ he only sleeps; but it is a very soiiiid slumber.” saftFmAif m take off his Inclian-dress,” clothes*” V I I - Tr» i t n liat this young own son?” i, promptly,, and |-he Mary’s bro- ►f plunging.tbe cd Mary, ^‘ he know he would addressing Roughgrove, chipf might possibly be yo “ No!” replied the old m partially rising, “ /ic my so ther— and once in the act tomahawk “ But, Father,” interru would never have hurt me not— for every time he looM me in the face he seemed to pity me, andiometirnes he al most wept to think I was away froj^lnmy friends, among savages, eofl and distressed. But I don’t think lie can bqmy.brother-^my little brother I uscd to l o v i o much— yet I could never think how he iould have fallen in the river without my knkvingit. Some times I remember it all as j it were yester day. *. Ho was hunting will violets i“ Oh! Oh!” screamed tie yoiing/clilef, springing from his seat tc^’alKMary. Fbar, pain, <apprehension,' joy And' affection,- all seem e d to bo m ingled in his heaving ■” diod on / “ He is restored— restored, ativlast!” ex claimed Roughgrove, flying across the room to where the brother and sister sat. The youth sprang to his feet and glanced a look o f defiance at him. “ Oh! wretched man that I am! the murderous savages have converted the gentle lamb into a wolf 1” — Roughgrove then repeated hi$ words to the youth in the Osage language# The youth replied in the same language, his eyes flash3 ing indignantly. He said it was a lie! that tho rod man was g r o a t and nol>lo, and (,Ua i pale face was a thief—and added that lie had another tomahawk, and bows and ar rows in hib own country, and might see the day when this insult would be terribly re- sentod. Tho old man sank down on his rude scat and gave way to excruciating grief. „. “ Brother W illiam !” cried Mary again tapping the drum. ’ The youth east down his eyes to where she sat and their fieree- neoS vanished in. a twinkling. /■ She placed the toy in his possession, and rose to bring some other plaything she remembered. “ Sister,.don’ t go way— I’ ll tell mother!” cried the youth in infantile earnestness., - “ I’ ll come back presently, brother,” said Mary, tripping across the room and search ing a trunk.; • ! / * , • f Uy.\ “ Make haste— but I ain’t, afraid—-I’ll frighten all the naughty Indians away,” saying this,-he rattled away on thp drum as rapidly as possible. wnat r v e gotn)rotlior,% said Mary, h6pe so,” said Mary. lA “ God is great— is present everywhere, and governs everything—let us always sub mit to his just decrees without murmuring,” said thp old ferryman, his eyes brightening with fervent devotion. ; / * “ They’ ve a notion to preach a little, I be lieve,” whispered Sneak to Joe; - / ; 11 “ Let ’ em go ahead then,” replied Joe, \ “ He’s crazy, dod Sneak’s lip. !' |* ‘ / \“ I should like to know7 whc.burnt hia foot then,” said Joe. ? ' , “ Silenc'e ! both of you,” sflfd Glenn. ^ “ What does he mean?” length asked Roughgrove, staring at the }!^ ng chief. “ Let us be patient, and said Glenn. Ere long the Indian turneJ. J'U eyes slow ly down ward, and resumed bis seat mourn-1 youth, pointing at the picture# - - fijTfv nnd iri silAnn^/ a - I ;. i^Now can t you read-it brother. ! “ To-be-sure I can returning with a juvenile book, and sitting down close at his side# H e' thrust his drum away, and laughing heartily,'placed his arm round his sister’s waist, and said: ^Mother’s got my book, but you’il let me Jook at yours, won’t you, sister?” ! “ Yes, that I will, brother— see, this is the little old woman, and there’s her dog/— “ Yes and there’s the pedlar,” cried the fully and irl silence. “ Oh !” said Mary, “ if he ft niy poor broth er, my heart will burst to s®° him thus—-a Wild savage.” I / . - “ How old are yoa, Mary?^ ashed .Glenn. “ Nineteen,” said she. / “ Your brother has been lost thirteen years. He may yet be restored to you^—re-taught —let me read v . ‘There was a little woman, . ' As l have heard tell, Sh^ went to market, ... . Her eggs for to sell/ ^ Seel there she goes, with a basket on Jier arm, and a cane in her hand.” _ . . “ Yes, and here she is again on this side, R. pUT This was speedily effi without awaking the youth, whose senses O V ' were benumbed, as if they had becnysjilled by some powerful opiate* ; “ Now Mary,” said. Roughgrove, “ you must likewise rest. You are almost exhaus ted in bod^Jfcnd mind* Sleep at your broth er’s side, if .you will, poor girl.” Mary laid her head on William’s pillow, and was soon in a deep slumber* • For several moments Roughgrove stood lost in thought, gazing alternately at the re posing brother and sister, and Glenn. He alsctfooked at Sneak and Joe reclining by the fire! both fast asleep. He then resum ed his seat, and motioned Glenn to do like wise. He bowed his. head a brief length of time in silence, apparently recalling to mind some occurrence o f more than ordinary im port. * : ' “.My young friend/ said he at length while he placed his 'Withered hand Upon C l « « J « U n . a A . - J . ------------------ - — 1 4.1 A . T ; j there was another secret connected with my family?” “ Distinctly,” replied Glenn, “ and I have since felt so much anxiety to be acquainted with it, that I have several^m es been on the eve o f asking you to gratify my curiosity; but thinking it might be impeftifient, I have forborne* It has more than once occurred to me that your condition in life must have' been different from wJiat it now is.” “ It has been dlfierent-^-far different* I will tell you all* I am a native o f England. A younger brother o f an ancient and hono rable family, but much decayed in fortunno, I was educated for the ministry* Our resi dence was on the Thames, a few miles dis tant from London* and I was’ early entered in bne of the institutions of the great city. W hile attending' college it was my practice twice a month to visit my father’s mansion on foot. I was fond of solitary musings, and the exercise -wA&Ja&nB&tdMA**-**!* ****** -r twnrxr: TTWcTs during one o f .those excur- sions that I rescued a young lady ff&rff rude assault o f two ruffians. After a brief struggle they fled. I turned to the one I had so opportunely served, and was struck with her Unparalleled beauty. Young, a form o f symmetrical loveliness: dark lan guishing eyes; a smooth forehead o f lily pu rity, and auburn hair flowing in glossy ring- tetSj— it was not strange that an impression should be made on the heart o f a youhg stu dent* Sho {hanked me for my generous interposition - 2 in - such sweet and musical tones, that every word thrilled pleasantly through my'breast* She prevailed upon me to accompany her to her mother’s cottage, but a few hundred paces distant, and during our walk thither she hung confidingly on arm* Her aged mother overwhelmed expressions of gratitude. the usual frankness and pleasure by Juliet; but I thought her mother's reception was less cordial, and M r; Nicholson regarded me With manifest indifference. I made an ineffectual efleort at vivacity, and after an . T . * ' _ hour’s stay, during which my remarks grad - ually narrowed down to monosyllables; (while Mr. Nicholson became excessively* loquacious,) I rose to .depart. * Juliet mad^ an endeavor to accompany me to the door^ where I hoped to be assured of her true afe fection foi‘ me by her own lips, but somo pointed inquiry, (I do not now recollect what)' : from Nicholson, and seconded in a positive’ manner by her mother, arrested her steps'* and while sho hesitated, I bid her adieu, and departed for the city, resolved never to see’ her again* , . V “ It was about a tnonth after the al)6vo. occurrence that my resolution gave way*, and I was again on the road to the cottage,' vx V in tnrqriyfi and foro'ct/ verytning that had offended me, and to of-* fer my hand whero my heart seemed to be indissolubly fixed. When I entered, who should I sec but the eternal thwarter o f my*! happiness, the ever-present Nicholson! But horror! he was now the wedded lord of. Juliet! The ceremony was just over.— There were but two or three strangers pres-' ent beside the clergyman. Bride, groorm guests and all were hateful to my sight.— * The minister, particularly, I thought had a demoniac face similar to that o f one of the ruffians who had tested the quality of my cane. Juliet Cast a look at mo with moro sadness than joy in it. She offered me her hand in silent salutation, and it trembled in my grasp! The deed was done. Pity for the maiden, who had been thus sacrificed to secure a superabundance of wealth which could never be enjoyed, and sorrow at my: own forlorn condition, weighed heavily, Oh9 how heavily! on my heart. The deed wqp forgings,Without a malicious feeling for the . one who had robbed me of every hope o f earthly enjoyment. I prayed that he might make her happy. “ But alas! her happiness was o f short duration. Scarce six months had passed, before Mr* Nicholson begaiuto neglect his, youthful and confiding bride* Sho had still remained at her mother’s cottage, while, as hqj stated, his establishment was being 'fitted( up in town for their reception. He at first drove out to the cottage every evening, but, soon fell into the habit of visiting his bride* only two or three times a week. He neithei* j carried her into society nor brought hornOj any visiters. Yet he seemed to possess im-/ mense wealth, and bestowed it upon Juliet. With A liberal, nay, profuse hand* My young' friend, what kind o f a character do yoU4 suppose this Mr. Nicholson to have been?” , said the old man, pausing, and turniiig^tc^ ,(^ | whn hnJ m \trfrgrtrfir'ni- tive with marked attention. * :.4 ■a _ q : my me plied Glenn, promptly. - ^ “ He was an impostor! but no adventuroojr gambler, as you suppose. I will proceed. About seven months after his marriage, abandoned Juliet altogeter! Yet ho did not forget her entirely. He may have felt re^. morse for the ruin he had wrought— or haps a slight degree o f affection for his un-*> born ■'-*— ; and costly preseuts, and many5* considerable sums of money were sent by him to the cottage. But noithaip the mother nor the doserted wifk solation they desirq/ They sent rnp^. distress#’1 asce W rW * I t - i-'- ... r - • J . 1 jp ^ * 1 ‘f .
