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SECTION XVII.

I.

92. THE STOLEN RIFLE.

ACKENZIE offered to cross the river and demand the rifle, if any one would accompany him. It was a hair-brained project, for these villages were noted for the ruff'ian character of their inhabitants; yet two volunteers promptly stepped forward, Alfred Seton, the clerk, and Joe de la Pierre, the cook. The tri'ō soon reached the opposite side of the river. On landing, they freshly primed their rifles and pistols. A path winding for about a hundred yards among rocks and crags, led to the village.

2. No notice seemed to be taken of their approach. Not a solitary being-man, woman, or child-greeted them. The věry dogs, those noisy pests of an Indian town, kept silence. On entering the village a boy made his appearance, and pointed to a house of larger dimensions than the rest. They had to stoop to enter it as soon as they had passed the threshold, the nărrow passage behind them was filled by a sudden rush of Indians, who had befōre kept out of sight.

3. Mackenzie and his companions found themselves in a rude chamber of about twenty-five feet long, and twenty wide. A bright fire was blazing at one end, near which sat the chief, about sixty years old. A large number of Indians, wrapped in buffalo robes, were squatted in rows, three deep, forming a semicircle round three sides of the room. A single glance sufficed to show them the grim and dangerous assembly into which they had intruded, and that all retreat was cut off by the mass which blocked up the entrance.

4. The chief pointed to the vacant side of the room opposite to the door, and motioned for them to take their seats. They complied. A dead pause ensued. The grim warriors around sat like statues; each muffled in his robe, with his fierce eyes bent on the intruders. The latter felt they were in a perilous predicament.

5. "Keep your eyes on the chief while I am addressing him," said Mackenzie to his companions. "Should he give any sign

to his band, shoot him, and make for the door." Mackenzie

advanced, and offered the pipe of peace to the chief, but it was refused. He then made a regular speech, explaining the object of their visit, and proposing to give, in exchange for the rifle, two blankets, an ax, some beads, and tobacco.

6. When he had done, the chief rose, began to address him in a low voice, but soon became loud and vīölent, and ended by working himself up into a furious passion. He upbraided the white men for their sordid conduct, in passing and repassing through their neighborhood without giving them a blanket or any other article of goods, merely because they had no furs to barter in exchange; and he alluded, with menaces of vengeance, to the death of the Indians, killed by the whites at the skirmish at the Falls.

7. Matters were verging to a crisis. It was evident the surrounding savages were only waiting a signal from the chief to spring upon their prey. Mackenzie and his companions had gradually risen on their feet during the speech, and had brought their rifles to a horizontal position, the barrels resting in their left hands: the muzzle of Mackenzie's piece was within three feet of the speaker's heart.

The sun

8. They cocked their rifles; the click of the locks for a moment suffused the dark cheek of the savage, and there was a pause. They coolly, but promptly advanced to the door; the Indians fell back in awe, and suffered them to pass. was just setting as they emerged from this dangerous den. They took the precaution to keep along the tops of the rocks as much as possible, on their way back to the canoe, and reached their camp in safety, congratulating themselves on their escape, and feeling no desire to make a second visit to the grim warriors of the Wish-ram." WASHINGTON IRVING.

II.

93. THE TOMAHAWK SUBMISSIVE TO ELOQUENCE.

T

WENTY tomahawks were raised; twenty ărrows drawn to their head. Yet stood Harold stern and collected, at bay -parleying only with his sword. He waved his arm. Smitten with a sense of their cow'ardice, perhaps, or by his great dignity, mōre awful for his very youth, their weapons dropped, and their countenances were uplifted upon him, less in hatred than in wonder.

2. The old men gathered about him : he leaned upon his saber. Their eyes shōne with admiration: such heroic deportment, in one so young-a boy! so intrepid! so prompt! so graceful! so eloquent, too!-for, knowing the effect of eloquence, and feeling the loftiness of his own nature, the innocence of his own heart, the character of the Indians for hospital'ity, and their veneration for his blood, Harold dealt out the thunder of his strength to these rude barbarians of the wilderness, till they, young and old, gathering nearer and nearer in their devotion, threw down their weapons at his feet, and formed a rampart of locked arms and hearts about him, through which his eloquence thrilled and lightened like electricity. The old greeted him with a lofty step, as the patriarch welcomes his boy from the triumph of far-off battle; and the young clave to him and clung to him, and shouted in their self-abandonment, like brothers round a conquering brother.

3. "Warriors!" he said, "Brethren!"—(their tomahawks were brandished simultaneously, at the sound of his terrible voice, as if preparing for the onset). His tones grew deeper, and less threatening. "Brothers! let us talk together of Logan !' Ye who have known him, ye agèd men! bear ye testimony to the deeds of his strength. Who was like him? Who could resist him? Who may ǎbīde the hurricane in its volley? Who may withstand the winds that uproot the great trees of the mountain? Let him be the foe of Logan. Thrice in one day hath he given battle. Thrice in one day hath he come back victorious. Who may bear up against the strong man—the man of war? Let them that are young, hear me. Let them follow the course of Logan. He goes in clouds and whirlwind-in the fire and in the smoke. Let them follow him. Warriors! Logan was the father of Harold!" They fell back in astonishment, but they believed him; for Harold's word was unquestioned, undoubted evidence, to them that knew him.

NEAL.

JOHN NEAL was born in Portland, Maine, about 1794. He was brought up as a shop-boy, and in 1815 became a wholesale dry-goods dealer in Baltimore, with John Pierpont, the poet. The concern failed, and Neal commenced the study of law, and with it the profession of literature, by writing a series of critical essays on the works of Byron for "The Portico," a monthly magazine. In 1818 he published "Keep Cool," a novel, and in the following year "The Battle of

1 Logan, an Indian chief of the Cayugas, murdered in 1781. He was remarkable for his attachment to the whites until cruelly treated by them,

when he took an Indian's revenge. A speech of his, addressed to Lord Dunmore, is an eloquent rebuke of the conduct of the whites.

Niagara, Goldau the Maniac Harper, and other Poems," and "Otho," a tragedy. He wrote a large portion of Allen's "History of the American Revolution," which appeared in 1821. Four novels, "Logan," "Randolph," ," "Errata," and “Seventy-six," some of which were republished in London, followed in quick succession. Meanwhile the author had studied law; been admitted, and was practicing as energetically as he was writing. Near the close of 1823 he went abroad; and, soon after his arrival in London, became a contributor to several periodicals, making his first appearance in "Blackwood's Magazine," in "Sketch of the Five American Presidents and the Five Candidates for the Presidency," a paper which was widely republished. After passing four years in Great Britain and on the Continent, in which time appeared his "Brother Jonathan," a novel, he came back to his native city of Portland, where he now resides. He has since published "Rachel Duer," "Authorship," "The Down Easters," "Ruth Elder," "One Word More," 1854, and "True Womanhood, a Tale," 1859; and contributed largely to periodicals. His novels are original, and written from the impulses of his heart, containing numerous passages marked by dramatic power, and brilliancy of sentiment and expression; but most of them having been produced rapidly, and without unity, aim, or continuous interest, are now undergoing revision. Mr. Neal's poems have the unquestionable stamp of genius. His imagination is marked by a degree of sensibility and energy rarely surpassed.

III.

94. THE BARON'S LAST BANQUET.

1.

'ER a low couch the setting sun had thrown its latèst rãy, a wait that,

Where, in his last strong agony, a dying warrior lay,The stern old Băron Rudiger, whose frame had ne'er been bent By wasting pain, till time and toil its iron strength had spent.

2.

"They come around me here, and say my days of life are ō'er,— That I shall mount my noble steed and lead my band no mōre ; They come, and, to my beard, they dare to tell me now that I, Their own liege lord and master born, that I-ha! ha!—must die.

3.

And what is death? I've dared him oft, before the Painim 'spear; Think ye he's entered at my gate-has come to seek me here? I've met him, faced him, scorned him, when the fight was raging hot ;

I'll try his might, I'll brave his power!-defy, and fear him not!

4.

"Ho! sound the tocsin' from my tower, and fire the cul'verin,' Bid each retainer arm with speed; call every vassal in.

1 Pāi' nim, pagan ; infidel.
• Tŏc' sin, a bell for giving alarm.

' Cŭl' ver in, a long, slender cannon, to carry a ball a great distance.

Up with my banner on the wall,-the banquet-board prepare,Throw wide the portal of my hall, and bring my armor there!"

5.

A hundred hands were busy then: the banquet forth was spread, And rung the heavy oaken floor with many a martial tread ; While from the rich, dark tracery, ălong the vaulted wall, Lights gleamed on harness, plume, and spear, o'er the proud old Gothic hall.

6.

Fast hurrying through the outer gate, the mailed retainers poured, On through the portal's frowning arch, and thronged around the board;

While at its head, within his dark, carved, oaken chair of state, Armed cap-a-pie,' stern Rudiger, with girded falchion2 sate.

7.

"Fill every beaker up, my men!—pour forth the cheering wine! There's life and strength in every drop,-thanksgiving to the vine! Are ye all there, my vassals true?-mine eyes are waxing dim: Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, each goblet to the brim!

8.

"Ye're there, but yet I see you not!-draw forth each trusty sword, And let me hear your faithful steel clash once around my board! I hear it faintly: Louder yet! What clogs my heavy breath? Up, all!-and shout for Rudiger, 'DEFIANCE UNTO DEATH!'"

9.

Bowl rang to bowl, steel clanged to steel, and rose a deafening cry, That made the torches flare around, and shook the flags on high: "Ho! cravens! do ye fear him? Slaves! traitors! have ye flown? Ho! cowards, have ye left me to meet him here ǎlōne?

10.

"But I defy him!-let him come!" Down rang the massy cup, While from its sheath the ready blade came flashing half-way up; And, with the black and heavy plumes scarce trembling on his

head,

There, in his dark, carved, oaken chair, old Rudiger sat-dead! GREENE.

all over.

1 Căp`a pie', from head to foot; shorter than the ordinary military sword, and less heavy, much used from the eighth to the fifteenth century.

' Falchion, (fal'chůn), a broad sword, with a slightly curved point,

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