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master also spoke to him, but he still appeared to be unconscious of our presence. A solitary sunbeam now stole through the grating, which, falling on the face of the prisoner, relaxed its austerity. Still he moved not. My companions looked at him, and then upon each other in astonishment, which was increased by the low sound of a number of voices joined in song. The music was varied by occasional bursts of passion, and passages of deep pathos. Tangoras joined the strain in a low gutteral tone, scarcely audible ; he closed his eyes as he sang, and listened to the voices, apparently with deep interest.

“What is the meaning of all this ?” I inquired.

“ It is the Indian death-song,” replied the schoolmaster, “and they relate in their rude strains the most daring exploits of their favourite chief.”

Tangoras stood motionless for about a quarter of an hour, during which the song continued. His eyes remained closed, and his countenance underwent various changes. The expression indicated pain, and finally it became so completely distorted, as to evince that he was labouring under intense bodily pain, although he still continued to mutter the death song. It was now with the utmost difficulty that he sustained himself; he staggered, his knees bent under him, and the next moment he fell to the floor, and shouted the war-whoop as he fell. They heard the signal from without, and immediately the death-song was changed to a wild burst of exultation. · We approached to support the old chief, who was struggling in the agonies of death, but he waved his hand, and forbad us to touch him. We inquired into the cause of his sudden illness, and he replied with a smile of triumph, that nature impelled him to die as a man, while the Christians would have taught him to die as a dog.

“ The old Roman virtue, consistent to the last !” exclaimed the schoolmaster.

The dying Indian writhed on the floor, and suddenly turning on his back, threw out his gigantic limbs, and lay stretched at full length. His broad chest heaved, his teeth were clenched, his hands closed, his eyes turned upwards, and a slight quivering ran through his whole frame. The song of exultation still continued without. There was now a gentle knock at the outer door, and the jailor left us, to attend to it. In a few moments he returned, accompanied by the wives of Tangoras. They looked upon him as he lay upon the floor, and then exchanged glances with each other. The struggle was now over; the body was motionless. They bent down beside it, covered their faces, and having remained in this posture a few moments, arose and left the prison in silence. The song of exultation ceased, as the jailor closed the door after them. As I returned to the inn, I expressed astonishment at the cause of his sudden death.

“ The cause is plain enough,” replied the schoolmaster. “The woinen who visited him last evening

left a dose of poison with him. It is evident that the plan was preconcerted.”

About an hour afterwards, we beheld the dejected Indians slowly ascending the mountain, bearing the remains of their old chief to a spot, where they might repose without longer being trampled on by the justice of the pale faces.

R. P. S. Philadelphia, April, 1830.



METHOUGHT, as rustling came the sportive breeze,
Fraught with the Summer's fragrant incense, by,
I heard the sounds of distant revelry,-
Cittern and lute, amidst those arching trees -
And marked the bands, who wandered there of old,
When England's Herod ruled her green domain,
Or She, who smote the Spoiler on the main ;-
Fair shapes in courtly guise, and warriors bold :
I look, and all are vanished !-herb and flower
Alone are smiling in their wide array;
Nor blight, nor tempest, nor the wasting hour
Of parent Nature, works with thee decay;
But Man's vain trust, his glory and his power ---
The blast of Time goes forth — and where are they?


As Doris, at her toilette's duty,
Sat meditating on her beauty,
She now was pensive, now was gay,
And lolled the sultry hours away.
As thus in indolence she lies,
A giddy wasp around her flies;--
He now advances, now retires,
Now to her neck and cheek aspires.
Her fan in vain defends her charms;
Swift he returns—again alarms ;-
For by repulse he bolder grew,--
Perched on her lip, and sipped its dew.
She frowns, she frets; “Good God!” she cries,
“ Protect me from these teasing flies!
Of all the plagues that Heaven hath sent,
A wasp is most impertinent!"
The hovering insect thus complained ---
“ Am I, then, slighted, scorned, disdained ?

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Published by Longman Rees Orme Brown & Green Nov 1829

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