Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

tion will have been taken. If I do not return to meet you, quit this castle immediately, for I shall have resigned myself to my lot.'

"She rose, and Pierre Maragnon replied submissively, but with deep feeling, Your weal or woe are in your own hands, mademoiselle; may Heaven inspire you, and bring you hither. again tomorrow morning.'

"Agathe took the sleeping child in her arms and slowly left the room. She had to traverse part of the castle to reach her chamber. The silence of night, and the pale moonbeams falling on the disjointed floors, imparted to those vast and long uninhabited halls a sad and desolate aspect that sank with a chill weight on her spirits. She gazed long around her, as if to confirm to herself the total ruin of her house, and passed onwards, pondering on the haughty penury of her family, and the painful contrast between such pinching indigence and the high nobility of descent, which was her sole and woful dower. On entering her little chamber, she laid the child on the bed, and sat down pensively before the prayer-desk. Her lamp, which she had left burning, shed but a flickering light on the blackened wood carvings that projected from the sombre face of the walls. The ticking of the invisible death-watch was heard loudly amid the deep stillness, as the creature pursued its slow work of destruction on the elaborately sculptured oak and walnut. Other slight sounds occasionally interrupted the noise made by the insect, as the hungry mice, running about behind the wainscot, brought down the damp crumbling mortar of the old walls. It was near the end of October; the approach of winter already made itself felt, and as the night advanced, a chiller air entered through the dilapidated windows, and made Agathe shiver. The poor girl had sunk on her knees and wished to pray; but whilst her heart sought to lift itself up towards God, her mind was lost in an endless maze of thought. Like all persons who are hurried along by no passion or intense feeling, she vacillated in fear and doubt between the two alternatives before her, and dreaded that whatever her choice might be she should repent of it on the morrow. Had she found more sympathy and tenderness in those around her, family affection would have prevailed in that hour of crisis, and she would have bethought her of the affliction and shame which a mésalliance would cast on her house. But the baron took no great interest in her fate, all his stock of affectionate feelings being engrossed by the little prattlers whose numbers grew with every year. When all his pretty brood was gambolling about him, he used to fall into a reverie, like the woodman in the tale of Little Poucet, and calculate how much more easily he should rear his bantlings when he should have got rid of poor Agathe. The baroness was a good soul, but her distressed condition rendered her selfish, and forced her upon a system of ways and means, which, in any one of a less kindly nature, would have degenerated into sordid scheming. Mademoiselle de Colobrières plainly felt all this, and it was this humiliating and painful certainty, that made her contemplate with out dread the rage and indignation of her kindred, when they should have received the astounding intelligence of her marriage. Still, however, she wavered; and as often happens in the most important circumstances of life, it was a trifling incident that fixed her decision. Whilst she was immersed in her distracting thoughts, and was observing with alarm the faint twilight that already began to steal

upon the horizon, the child moved uneasily on the bed and sighed in some unpleasant dream. Agathe went to her, raised her gently on the pillow, and kissed her soft cheeks, bathing them with tears. This woke the child, who instinctively put her arm round her aunt's neck, muttering, 'Show me all you bought last night of the merchant, aunt.'

"I did not buy anything,' said Agathe. Come, my dear, go to sleep. Or shall I take you back to the other room, to your brothers and sisters?'

"No, I will stay where I am,' said the child, looking round her; mamma promised me this room should be mine, because I am the eldest.' "Ha! and she told you you should have it soon?"

"Immediately, when you are gone to the nunnery,' said the child, with the naïf selfishness which children carry into all their little schemes.

"To the nunnery!-I will not go!—and I leave you my chamber, Euphémie,' said Mademoiselle de Colobrières, starting up.

"The child sank back on the pillow and was asleep again in a moment. Agathe took from the drawer, that contained her all, her little enamelled cross and her prayer book, opened her door softly, traversed the castle with firm and rapid steps, and went down into the courtyard. Pierre Maragnon had been waiting since the first glimpse of daybreak with his eyes bent on the great door. Doubtless he had trembled in his soul at the thought that it would not open again, for his pale and haggard looks told of an anxious night. At the sight of Mademoiselle de Colobrières he grew still paler, and then the blood rushed from his heart to his head with a revulsion of pride and joy; but instantly overcoming his violent emotion he advanced and said quietly with as much respect as though he were addressing a queen, Mademoiselle, we are just about to start if you please; in four hours you will be in Antibes, and you will then let me know your further commands.'

[ocr errors]

"I am ready, monsieur,' said Agathe, in a low voice, modestly but firmly; but instead of going direct to Antibes, we must pass through the village of St. Peyre, and stop there an hour."

"The mules were already laden, and the two men who had charge of them had drawn them up in line outside the castle yard. A tall young man, the same whom Agathe had seen asleep, with his gun in reach of his hand, on the preceding evening, was in the saddle keeping discreetly out of earshot; his likeness to Pierre Maragnon told plainly that they were of the same blood and bore the same name. At a sign from the merchant the little caravan began to march. Agathe was still in the hall, looking at a heap of silks, laces, and other goods, neatly arranged on the sill in the deep recess of a window. Over all these fine things, and placed in a manner to strike the eye at once, was a paper, on which was written: From Mademoiselle de Colobrières. The little purse containing the six livres fifteen sous, the baroness' savings, lay under the paper. It is your wedding present, mademoiselle; I have taken the liberty of making it in your name,' said the merchant.

"The poor children will have new clothes for once in their lives!' murmured Agathe, thanking Pierre Maragnon with a look. Then she said, hurriedly, 'Let us begone.'

"The merchant led up his saddle horse, a pow erful animal, fit to carry the four sons of Aymon,

placed Mademoiselle Colobrières on the croupe, mounted, and set off at a round trot. The caravan was already out of sight beyond a turn of the road, but the tramp of the mules and the tinkling of their bells were audible.

"When they reached the foot of the hill, and before they entered the tortuous road leading away from Colobrières, Agathe turned back and looked her last on the castle of her fathers. It was a look full of sorrow and fondness that poignantly bespoke all the feelings of her soul. Farewell!' she mentally ejaculated, 'farewell, noble abode, whence poverty expels me! Had I been allowed to pass my cheerless existence within the shelter of those ruined walls-had I been left a little place by my father's hearth, and a right to sit at the scanty table where I should not, perhaps, have always found my daily bread, I would not have forsaken my family and renounced my name.'

"Her tears flowed silently as she thought thus; she wiped them away with one hand, whilst the other instinctively clung to Pierre Maragnon's arm, with a close and timorous grasp. The merchant, proud as a monarch, rode with head erect and a glad heart, thinking of the happiness and the honor that awaited him. Once out of sight of the castle of Colobrières he put his horse to a walk, and took the liberty to ask Agathe if she had any particular purpose in going to St. Peyre. 666 The purpose day,' was her reply. "The heart of Pierre Maragnon thrilled at the words. In his ecstasy he was near raising to his lips the small hand that grasped his green ratteen sleeve; but checking himself, he only replied in the most respectful tone: 'I durst not have taken it upon me to press you on this subject, mademoiselle; and yet I felt that the most proper course you could take was not to postpone the honor you intend to do me; your determination delights me. If you please, we will allow my people to proceed slowly, and we will ride on before them.'

of being married to you this very

"Yes,' said Agathe, that is well thought of; we should be at St. Peyre before the hour of mass. "The merchant set spurs to his horse, and turning off from the road, rode across the fields, by which | means he had soon outstripped the caravan, which was proceeding steadily in a sunken way, so deep that ill-disposed persons might have lain there in ambush. Agathe, frightened a little by the brisk pace of the horse, drew up her small feet under her petticoat, and clung with both arms to her companion, who at that moment looked not unlike Pierre of Provençe carrying off the fair Maguelone.

"It was about seven in the morning when the young couple arrived in front of the church of St. Peyre. The sacristan had already rung the first matin bell, but the village population were in the fields, and there were only two or three old men about the church, basking in the sun. The merchant fastened his horse to the palings of the priest's little garden, and accompanied Mademoiselle de Colobrières into the church, where both knelt down at the entrance of the lonely nave. Agathe then making a sign to Pierre Maragnon to wait for her, went into the sacristy, where she found the curé putting on his robes, assisted by the lad who was to aid in the performance of the mass. He was a young priest, tolerably well-read; a man of tolerant piety and great virtue. Occasionally, in visiting his parishioners, he had called at the

castle of Colobrières, and Agathe was well known to him.

"The blessing of Heaven be on you, mademoiselle;' he exclaimed, as Agathe advanced to him pale and trembling. Has anything untoward happened at Colobrières?'

6

"No, Monsieur le Curé;' she replied, 'it is myself the matter concerns, and I am come to beg you will hear my confession immediately.'

"The curé, much astonished, motioned to his little clerk to retire, and sat down, after having closed the door of the sacristy. Mademoiselle de Colobrières then knelt down, and after relating what had occurred on the preceding night, she told him the resolution she had taken, and the purpose for which she was come. The case was novel and embarrassing. Mademoiselle de Colobrières was an orphan, and had attained her majority, so that she could dispose of her own hand; nevertheless, her family was legally empowered to resist such a mésalliance as she was about to make. Besides this, it was necessary to fulfil the previous formalities required by the ecclesiastical laws in all but extraordinary cases. The good priest refused at first, hoping, perhaps, that Agathe would abandon her intention, and allow him to convey her back quietly and without scandal to Colobrières. But upon the first word he uttered to that effect, she rose and said, resolutely, No, Monsieur le Curé, I did not take this step with the intention of afterwards receding. I will go with Pierre Maragnon wherever he chooses to take me, and he will marry me when it shall so please him; but it is for you matter of conscience to let me depart thus. Since I am resolved to go with him, were it not better he should take me away as his wife and not as his mistress? Alas! if we both commit such a fault, it will be sorely against our will.'

[ocr errors]

"This way of putting the case alarmed the curé. He was a truly religious man, of a timorous conscience, but of an upright and decided character. 'Mademoiselle,' he said, after some reflection; 'I consent to marry you; God in his mercy grant that you may live afterwards without regret and remorse! After the ceremony, I will go and see M. le Baron de Colobrières. No doubt they are searching for you at this moment, and any surmise will have been adopted by your family rather than a suspicion of what is actually occurring. I will intercede for you, but I fear it will be without “ avail. For the last time, I intreat you to reflect : are you fully resolved thus to forever separate from your family, who will never think of you, perhaps, without anger and shame?'

1

666 My greatest desire is that they may forgive me,' replied Agathe, with mournful determination; but I do not hope they will, Monsieur le Curé ; and when I left Colobrières, I knew well that it was forever.'

"The curé motioned to her to kneel down again, and after praying with her and duly accomplishing all that should precede the religious ceremony, he told her to go and wait for him in the church, and meanwhile to send Pierre Maragnon to him. The little clerk went by the priest's desire and fetched two of the old men who were sitting in the porch, to act as witnesses; and a quarter of an hour afterwards Pierre Maragnon and Agathe de Colobrières were married. On coming out of church they met the whole caravan which had just arrived, and Pierre, going up to the young man we have seen before, said to him, with a face beaming with

proud joy as he pointed to Agathe, 'Take her | brush wood in the great court, and when it was hand, Jacques; she is your sister.'

"That same afternoon, whilst the new married couple were on their road for Marseilles, the curé proceeded to Colobrières. The baron and his wife were still busy with conjectures: they had found Agathe's wedding presents on the window-ledge, but could not tell what to make of them, and their wits were perplexed with a host of conjectures, none of which approached the truth. When the curé had given a plain statement of the facts, the baron burst in paroxysms of rage and indignation, and the baroness shed tears. In spite of her natural gentleness and indulgent disposition, the good lady was also incensed against her sister-in-law, and cried out in a comical transport of anger and distress: Mademoiselle de Colobrières the wife of Pierre Maragnon! That she should have been guilty of the weakness of loving him is what I might, perhaps, conceive; but marry him-never!' "The Baron de Colobrières renounced his sister Agathe, cursed her, and expressly forbade that her name should ever be uttered in his presence. After this solemn declaration he had a bonfire made of

[ocr errors]

FLOGGING AT HOUNSLOW.

well lighted, he sternly flung Agathe's presents into the blaze. The baroness sighed piteously when she saw the brave tissues vanishing in the flames, and mentally computed the number of new dresses that might have been made out of what was soon but a handful of ashes. But she knew her husband too well to venture on the least remonstrance; she knew that the worthy man would rather have seen his children clad in lambskins, like the pictures of little St. John, than decked in garments made of Pierre Maragnon's wedding presents. With a heavy heart she locked up the six livres fifteen sous which had been found untouched in the purse; and considering that all this disaster had come of the unlucky wish to spend her savings, she made a vow that she would be wiser in future. Agathe's example, moreover, was a warning to her respecting her daughters. None of the first five saw their eighteenth year under the paternal roof, but were shut up in a nunnery, and had made the last vows long before the age when their aunt had chosen to marry a roturier rather than take the veil."

Some days after, the skin of his back being healed, he would have left the hospital had he not comA JURY was impannelled on Wednesday even-plained of his left side. The pain subsequently ing at the George the Fourth Inn, Hounslow-shifted to his bowels, and on Saturday last, about heath, before Mr. Wakley, to inquire into the three o'clock, he became insensible, and died in death of Frederick White, aged twenty-six, late a the evening of the same day. He was seen on private in the 7th Hussars, who died subsequent that day by Mr. Hall, one of the staff surgeons, by to, and it was alleged in consequence of, having request of Dr. Warren. On Monday last that received severe corporal punishment. After the gentleman assisted Dr. Reid, also a military surjury had viewed the body the inquiry was ad-geon from town, in making the post mortem exami journed for a week, to allow an examination of the nation. Deceased, who was a healthy man, was deceased by a surgeon not connected with the visited while in the hospital by some of the offarmy, and for the summoning of several material witnesses. The coroner also ordered that the there was not visited by any of his relatives, cers, and never made any complaint, but while deceased man's family should be requested to neither were they made acquainted with either his attend. The following statement has appeared in punishment or illness. It is said that at the ina morning paper, but it must be regarded as alto-fliction of the punishment ten of the privates presgether ex parte. It will probably be satisfactory to all parties that the investigation could not be in better hands than Mr. Wakley's for the discovery of the whole truth :-"The deceased has been in the regiment seven years and a half, and had never before been subjected to corporal punishment; but, being given to drink, he had been subjected to extra drills, &c., as a punishment. While laboring under the effects of liquor, an altercation took place between him and Sergeant Daly, when he struck the latter on the breast with a poker. For his conduct on that occasion two charges were preferred against him, one for assaulting a non-commissioned officer, and the other for using abusive language towards him. Under a warrant issued by the commander-in-chief, a court-martial assembled at Hampton Court barracks, consisting of seven officers, the president being Captain Arthur Shirley, of the 7th Hussars, who found the deceased guilty of both charges, and sentenced him to receive 150 lashes. That sentence was confirmed at head-quarters, and carried out on the 15th ult., at Hounslow barracks, in the presence of the regiment, of Colonel White, the commanding officer, and of Dr. Warren, the head surgeon. The triangles were not used on the occasion, but the ladder,' and the whole number of lashes was given. The deceased walked into the hospital himself, after the flogging, and subsequently kept his bed for fourteen days. His wounds were first treated with fomentations, and afterwards with dressings.

6

[ocr errors]

ent fainted. The deceased was a tall, fine grown, intelligent young man, bore the infliction with stoical indifference, uttering not a word beyond requesting that the lash might not fall so frequently upon his neck. There is a young man named Mathewson, now in the hospital, suffering under the effects of a flogging. He had not joined the regiment more than seven or eight weeks before he was punished. He was one day standing in his room stooping with his head to the ground, when he heard his name suddenly called. He answered, Heigho;' and on looking up found he had been called by one of the sergeants. The latter demanded why he made such an answer? to which the former replied that he did not know it was the sergeant who called him. The sergeant still pursued the subject, until at length Mathewson exclaimed, Do you want me to go down on my knees to you?' for which expression the sergeant put him under arrest. Mathewson was subsequently taken before the commanding officer, who, after severely reprimanding him, was asked by Mathewson to tell him how he ought to have answered the sergeant, which was construed into disrespectful conduct towards his commanding offi cer, for which the young soldier was tried by court-martial, found guilty, and sentenced to receive one hundred lashes, from the effects of which he is now in the hospital."

[ocr errors]

From the Foreign Quarterly Review.

ent? Is Orthodoxy maintained by not a few, beHistory of the Indian Tribes of North America, with cause it saves the trouble and cost of original

Biographical Sketches and Anecdotes of the Principal Chiefs, embellished with One hundred and twenty carefully colored Portraits, etc. etc. By T. L. MCKENNEY, Esq., and JAMES HALL, Esq. Philadelphia: Rice and Clarke. London: C. Gilpin.

thought? These questions sound almost monstrous: yet, much of the artistic criticism, and the motives held out for artistic effort in the present day, when stripped of the verbiage in which canters of all classes love to involve them, have no wiser principles for kernel. Yet, digressing for a moment, let us thankfully remark how-in spite of all this laziness and pedantry, this appeal to a spurious devotional spirit, which overlooks the glorification of God in the present, no less than in the past-genius is vindicating itself: how the necessities, the materials, and the social arrangements of the world are unconsciously calling forth and shaping productions, which posterity may admire as models. Those whose connoisseurship and enthusiasm, being merely an affair of precedents and synods, can see nothing of the poetry which belongs to every effort of human ambition, of the beauty which bears company with every step of civilization, will deride us as utilitarian, or denounce us as at once visionary and materialist, if, by way of illustration, we venture to assert, that in the magnificent structures which steam conveyance has originated, we have more chance of a new order of architecture, than in all the porings and pryings of the Pugin school of artists, who sanction every anachronism and inconsistency of past, half-instructed ages, on the score of a mystical sanctity, and demands the sacrifice of criticism at the altar of faith. Let all memorials of the past be reverently preserved, but preserved as memorials, not models. It should be our task, as it is our privilege, to go forward.

IN turning over the leaves of the magnificent picture-book before us, we rejoice at the opportunity it affords us for departing from the tone of censure in which we have too often felt compelled to speak of the works and deeds of our kinsmen across the Atlantic. For once, at least, they cannot accuse us of scornful disrespect, or of insular prejudice, when, according to our best ability, we recommend nationality in art, as the one thing beautiful, desirable, and needful for its permanent existence. Towards this point we would have our American friends strain every nerve. They have already proved themselves steady and enthusiastic pilgrims along the world's highways. We may mention the names of West, Washington Allston, Leslie, Sully, in proof that they can take rank among the most admirable Europeans, when they deign to paint in the European fashion; nor can the Londoners or the Florentines forget, that in his 66 Greek Slave," W. Hiram Powers has put in a very strong claim for the championship of modern sculpture, one to which the Rauchs, and the Gibsons, and the Schwanthalers, and the Bailys would find it hard to offer a rejoinder. In all revivals and adaptations, however-in all workings after this antique, or the other tradition, there is an unsoundness, and a want of satisfaction, the end of Viewed under their two-fold aspect, especially, which can be but mediocrity. It needs but to seeing that anything entirely new stands, for the walk the rounds of the churches, galleries, and present, at so heavy a disadvantage, whatsoever studios of Munich, to ascertain the limits of the enchantment of distance may do for posteritymodern, when imitating ancient art. There has all collections with regard to the aboriginal inhabibeen no want of earnest study, no want of unself- tants of America have a value, which every year ish devotion to a purpose, no want of sympathy will only increase. Perhaps never has savage life and patronage and here and there industry, inge-worn a form so inviting and poetical, as in the annuity, and sincerity have "tossed and turned" themselves, have accumulated and wrought, till the result is all but a creation-all but a work of genius. Yet the impression, on ourselves at least, of these vaunted works is saddening. It is painful to see that sympathy will not keep pace with effort; painful to be compelled to admit, (as one is compelled to do, a score of times every hour, by some flash of recollection of the glories of the ancients,) that we are only looking at an elaborate mistake; painful to anticipate a not very distant period, when Glyptothek and Basilica, Fest-bau, and Aller Heiligen Kapelle will be reviewed by the connoisseurs, as so many monuments of respectable pedantry, and school exercise; more praiseworthy for intent, but little more so in fact of artistic merit, than the follies of Louis Quinze, or than the library built after the fashion of a chest of drawers with which the great Frederick of Prussia chose to diversify the main street of his show capital!

nals of the Indian tribes. Though hardly disposed, with the prospectus of Messrs. McKenney and Hall's work, to admit the Red-jackets and Mohongos as "Ciceros and Cæsars, Hectors and Helens;" though human conservatism, or human simplicity, could never, in their most stiff or sickly vagaries, dream of a revival of wigwams, of an extension of the picturesque birch-bark and quill manufactures; of encouraging, after the fashion of "Young England," the dances and the ballplays, with all their distinctive forms of full-dress and un-dress, (the latter, as a lady tourist has told us on some festive occasions, a mere simple osprey's wing)-though it would exceed the boldness of any Benedict to speak even leniently of squaw-dom, as an "honorable condition," in days like these, when The Schoolmistress is abroad arousing and inspiriting the "womenkind,"there is still, under every point of view, for the studious or for the sympathetic, for the antiquarian We have dwelt upon Munich because the name or for the artist, for the wild sportsman or the of this city is in every one's mouth; but it is only closet philosopher, a dignity, a charm, and a poean illustration of the spirit of the times; not a try about the Red Man, to which, not the whole solitary instance. The worthy personages, who library of trumpery of which he has been made the imagine they are advancing the cause of devotion subject can render us indifferent. The Americans, and authority, by attempting to bring back church then, are justified in calling attention to this, as a music to the barbarianism of the Gregorian chant, great national work. Few rate more highly than offer another. Why are these things? Does that ourselves the magnificence of Audubon's collecold superstitious fear yet linger on the earth, tions; the artistic power, which he has thrown which mistrusted creation and discovery as irrever- into his drawings, giving his ornithological sub

jects the attractiveness of some professed picture of matter, for the thinker, or the painter, or the by Snyders or Landseer, (distancing, let us add, philanthropist. Enough, on the present occasion, Hondeköeter, the court painter of poultry, by then to say, that the variety of materials seems in many a rifle's length)-few have enjoyed more some degree to have puzzled the writers of the heartily the admirable pages which detail his wan- Prefatory Essay, as well as ourselves. The days derings, and describe his specimens; entertaining of laborious concentration are gone, and perhaps it (to quote Johnson's anticipation of Goldsmith's were too extreme to expect that they should be reNatural History)" as a Persian tale," and poeti-vived for this occasion only, when the task to be cal as one of Christopher North's most eloquent done was merely to make up a handsome introducrhapsodies when " Ebony" was young; yet, in tion to a picture-book. If, as we believe Sir Harright of subject, we must give the handsome ris Nicholas would tell us, our lodges have somevolumes on our table a yet more distinguished times "forced their facts," in writing the bioplace. Nor can we attempt to glance at their con- graphies of our illustrious personages-if Corneys tents, without a word or two on a less important poke their heads out of remote corners to prove point, in which the Americans may legitimately that our D'Israelis are somewhat given to the take pride. Their manner of production and pub- Japanese fashion of mermaid-making, when busy lication is most praiseworthy. Mr. Wittingham over their "Curiosities of Literature"-far be it of Chiswick, it is true, might suggest that the from us, on peaceful thoughts intent, to do more type was too heavy for the paper; and it would than hint, that here or there is a flimsiness or an strike Mr. Hullmandel's experienced eye, we inaccuracy, or a want of that grasp of the whole doubt not, that in some half-dozen specimens, subject, for which the memory of a ripe scholar, among the lithographs, the grain of the chalk is and the hand of a finished artist, are alike demandtoo coarse and woolly to pass muster in these per- ed. Better than picking of notes, than complainfected days of the art. But the above objections ing of facts carelessly collected, or of style left in are trifling-hinted, peradventure, merely to the unweeded state of nature, will it be to offer the keep up our character as just critics, whose habit reader a sample of the introductory matter to the it has been, from time immemorial, to indulge volume. The following, however, is not so much their spleen by declaring "that the picture would a part of the history, as one among the pièces jus have been better painted, if the painter would have tificatives upon which it has been founded. We taken more trouble." have rarely met with a more touching and complete illustration of the strength and weakness of savage life :—

It seems an Irish beginning to open the third volume first; but the reason is ready in the "History of the Indian Tribes" contained therein, and "Certain murders were committed at Prairie du our visit is merely a passing one. For if the Chien on the Upper Mississippi, in 1827, by a physiologists, philologists, and other "cunning party of Indians, headed by the famous Winnebamen" of science, have failed to ascertain, past con- go chief, Red Bird. Measures were taken to captest, whether the American Indians were or were ture the offenders, and secure the peace of the not of the Tartar stock-if the signification of the frontier. Information of these movegreat coincidence between the word "ha, ha," as ments was given to the Indians, at a council then a definition of an English park ditch, and the same holding at the Butte des Morts, on Fox River, and appellation given by the Sioux to the falls of St. of the determination of the United States governAnthony, is still far from being duly appreciated: ment to punish those who had shed the blood of -if antiquarians are not precisely agreed how far our people at Prairie du Chien. The Indians were the hieroglyphical paintings of the Mexicans, and faithfully warned of the impending danger, and the uncouth symbols and effigies which emboss the told, that if the murderers were not surrendered, Yucatan temples, "coincide" with the patterns ra- war would be carried in among them, and a way ther than drawings on the buffalo-skins of the West- cut through their country, not with axes, but ern Indians-if, to quote the author of the Intro- guns. They were advised to procure a surrender ductory Essay before us, nothing can be more of the guilty persons, and, by so doing, save the uncertain, and more unworthy, we will not say of innocent from suffering. Runners were dispatched, credit, but of consideration, than their earlier tradi- bearing the intelligence of this information among tions, and probably there is not a single fact, in all their bands. Our troops were put in motion. The their history, supported by satisfactory evidence, Indians saw, in the movement of these troops, the which occurred half a century previously to the storm that was hanging over them. On arriving establishment of the Europeans;-wherefore should at the portage, distant about one hundred and forty we vex our readers with splitting theories, and miles from the Butte des Morts, we found ourspinning disquisitions? Again, to touch the mod- selves within nine miles of a village, at which, we ern history of the Indians-were it ever so sketch- were informed, were two of the murderers, Red ily-would lead us into a review of Mr. School- Bird, the principal, and We-kaw, together with a craft's interesting collections, and Mr. Stone's large party of warriors. The Indians, apprehendspirited and elaborate histories and biographies;ing an attack, sent a messenger to our encampinto glancing over such memoirs of the war-time as ment. He arrived, and seated himself at our tent the Mrs. Grants and Mrs. Bleekers contributed door. On inquiring what he wanted, he answered, (since woman's testimony has always its special value, as embracing points which her lordly master disdains to observe.) We should have to crystallize into the smallest solid space the amount of facts and features to be got out of the writings of Fenimore Cooper, the Irvings, and Bird. A more romantic library still remains to be ransacked, that of missionary enterprise, somewhat sentimentally opened, some fourteen years since, by Mr. Carne; but containing, we apprehend, abundance

'Do not strike. When the sun gets up there' (pointing to a certain part of the heavens) they will come in.' To the question who will come in?' he answered, 'Red Bird and We-kaw.' Having thus delivered his message, he rose, wrapped his blanket about him, and returned. This was about noon. At three o'clock another Indian came, seated himself in the same place, and being questioned, gave the same answer. At sun-down, another came, and repeated what the others had said."

« VorigeDoorgaan »