THE AGED INDIAN TO HIS COUNTRYMEN.

The sun's rich glory lights the western sky,
And shines, a feeble emblem of His eye
Who spoke the word, and bade from darkness spring
A world as radiant as an angel's wing!

Yes! those bright beams but faintly shadow forth
His power, his might, who holds our beauteous earth
Within the hollow of his awful hand,
And sways in love his limitless command;
Eternal, uncreated, unconfined

By mortal laws, and viewless as the wind;
But, though we see him not, we feel his power
Pervade yon giant palm, yon lowly flower;
We hail his presence in the blaze of day,
And night's dread silence owns his solemn sway;
In earth, in all, we feel the kindling theme,
And the heart bows to Him, the Great Supreme !
Friends, I can read your gestures of amaze,
Can read your wond'ring and inquiring gaze;
And ere yon golden arch of liquid fire
Shall from the glowing firmament retire,
The once resentful tongue shall simply tell
The glorious hopes that now this bosom swell.
Ye know, that they who may have made me wild,
Friends, parents, brothers, sisters, never smiled
Upon my childhood, for the foe spared none,
And I was left to strive with life alone.
And well ye know no warrior ever sought
More ardently the war-path, or e'er fought
More fiercely brave, than he whose dreaded might
Will soon be shrouded in the grave's dark night:
Furious and bold I steer'd my onward course,
No tongue could tame, no arm arrest my force;
Not e'en the pleadings of that gentle one
Who o'er my darken'd mind arose its sun,
My bosom's wife, not e'en her tender prayer
In mercy's cause, could bid my spirit spare;
In war"The gaunt hyæna*" I became,
In peace my bosom felt the lurid flame;

The slakeless thirst for blood, for human gore,
E'en when most gorged was still demanding more.
And thus I was, when my belov'd, my bride,
By fell disease was summon'd from my side:
Yes! the pure star that cheer'd my clouded sky
Pass'd like a meteor from my startled eye!

I could not think it, could not deem her flown,
Her, the sole joy my life had ever known.
Senseless, inert, I sat beside her bier,
Nor could I shed one heart-relieving tear;
And when ye bore her to that youthful grave,
Ye thought that I in agony would rave!
But no! I mark'd ye lay her in the clay
In dreadful silence, then I sped away,
As wing'd by terror, and in madden'd mood,
Gain'd ere the dawn of day a distant wood,
Where hostile tribes were gath'ring for the strife,
And I, now reckless or of death or life,
Espoused the cause, unknowing which the right,
And fought as but a desperate arm can fight.
That day a host before my fury died,

And long I strove 'gainst vict'ry's whelming tide;
But we were vanquish'd, and my limbs were bound
Whilst I lay faint and bleeding on the ground.
Guarded with care, my lot was now to die
In studied pangs of writhing agony ;

* In allusion to the Indian custom of bestowing on their warriors some characteristic name.

Yet still my mind retain'd its stubborn frame,
My brain was darkness, and my heart was flame,
Till one bright day a kindly step drew near,
And gentle accents fell upon mine ear :-
It was a 66 Pale-face;" and although I spurn'd
His courteous speech, he oft again return'd,
And spoke of wondrous things, of mighty themes,
Exceeding e'en our wildest, brightest dreams;
And when at length he won me to disclose
The long pent secret of my grief and woes,
Tears, plenteous tears, bedew'd my hardy cheek,
And left my mind e'en as an infant's, weak;
Then, then, he spoke of One who loved us all,
One who for us had borne the captive's thrall;
One who had left a throne beyond the sky,
For us to suffer, and for us to die.

He would have led me from our idol lore,
The great, the living Spirit to adore ;
But, though his influence had set me free,
I still retain'd my dark idolatry;

With him I lived, nor sought my former place,
Nor cared how soon might close my earthly race;
But liv'd, regardless of his tender cares,
His powerful reas'nings or his fervent prayers.
At length the gentle partner of his love
Left him to gain their better home above,
And then I felt a curious wish to know
How he would bear the burden of his woe;
For well I knew what love for her he bore
Who came with him from their far-distant shore,
Who shar'd his perils, never left his side-
Had sooth'd his sorrows when most sorely tried-
Had whisper'd hope when hope itself grew dim,
And with her patient sufferance strengthen'd him.
True, he had preach'd that ev'ry ill of life
His creed could soothe; but then he had his wife!
Now she was gone, and desolate he stood,
As I, when entering the savage wood;
Yet more so, absent from his native land,
Alone, amidst a dark and treach'rous band!
How would he feel and act? I scann'd him well-
Saw that the secret tear-drops freely fell;
For in the white man's home they think not shame
Of tears, that foul disgrace to Indian name!
Yet no unmanly grief his care bespoke :
He mourn'd, he wept, but bow'd beneath the stroke.
I saw her laid within her lowly tomb,
And, soon as night assum'd her sable plume,
I mark'd him seek the freshly-cover'd mound,
And press with burning brow the dewy ground.
joy'd to think his oft-urg'd creed must fail
In the deep grief of the funereal wail!
Silent I stood, and heard the heavy sigh
Burst from the wounded spirit's agony :
But soon that spirit seem'd on high to spring,
And soar aloft upon angelic wing.

He mourn'd her absence from his aching sight,
But hail'd her entrance to the realms of light,
And said he soon should reach that lovely clime,
Unshadow'd by the darksome wing of Time,
Where parting tears no more should dim their eyes,
But Joy's eternal flow'rs around them rise!

Heart-struck I paus'd, and slowly turn'd aside,
And struggled much between desire and pride:
I long'd to seek the truths I spurn'd before,
But pride forbad the favor to implore.
Should I, who bow'd before the idol shrine,
Desert that worship in my life's decline?
Own that I long had been by error led,
And to the white man's God incline my head?
Strange thought; yet oh, so powerfully strong,
My mind could not sustain the conflict long:

Suffice to say, I sought that lore to gain
That had so oft been proffer'd me in vain.
The Pale-face led me to th' eternal word,
The word of Him whom he in soul ador'd.
I listen'd-was convinced, and felt my heart
Was lighten'd of its agonizing smart.
Friends, ye have mark'd some dry and arid plain,
Unblest by show'rs of cool and fresh'ning rain,
In verdant life and genial beauty glow,

When through its ground was brought the streamlet's flow:

Such was my temper now: my haughty soul,
Beneath the power of some benign control,
Subdued and soften'd, seem'd to melt with love
For all who o'er our earth's wide surface rove;
Chiefly for him, my kind, my wond'rous guide;
And naught could our united souls divide.
Taught by his holy theme, I turn'd again
To life, but in a higher, holier strain;
Not to the battle's rage-I now abhorr'd
The life-stain'd glory of the warrior sword.
My former deeds before my memory stood,

And what from them could cleanse? oh, but the blood

Of Him, who freely shed the purple-stream

Which should our wild and wayward souls re

deem,

From all our primal stains should set us free,
And bid us live through all eternity.
Hours have I spent beside that godly man,
Learning from him our Maker's lofty plan;
And, as above the sea, mid clouds of night,
Some beauteous star will rise in silver light,
Over the tossing passions of my breast,
There shone a heav'nly ray of peace and rest.
With my preserver now, no common tie
Link'd in its hallow'd bonds my destiny;
With equal zeal unitedly we strove,
Others to circle in the fold of love;
And many bless our toils, and live to tell
The mercy of that God he lov'd so well;
But soon he sicken'd 'neath our burning sun,
And felt his hour of rest was nearly won;
Then all the grief was mine; he joy'd to soar
Where Earth's wild waters can no longer roar :
And as his fair and lofty brow reclin'd
Upon my shoulder, and th' unconscious wind,
As if in mockery of grief or care,

Mingled with my dark locks his snowy hair,
Meet emblem of the sinner's gloomy night,
And the pure radiance of the Gospel's light,
He strove to strengthen more my infant faith,
And bade me mourn not for his joyous death.
But not one boast one single glorying hung
Upon the falt'ring accents of his tongue;
His actions for his Lord grew faint and dim,
Compar'd with what his Lord had done for him.
Comrades! ere this he taught me how to live,
A higher lesson it was his to give,
And nobly did this creed that lore supply,
For in his death he taught me how to die!
I saw his corpse laid in its narrow bed,
And plac'd a simple cross above his head;
But then my tie dissolv'd; I long'd to trace
The path that led me to my native race;
And now I come, and till mine eyes shall close
In the sound slumber of man's last repose,
I would to your unconscious minds declare
The surest, sweetest balm for ev'ry care.
Oh, learn of me the Christian's holy creed;
No longer bid the human victim bleed;
Bury the red axe 'neath the tree of peace;
Bid warfare, with its gloomy horrors, cease!

Pour not the war-whoop through our lovely dell,
But on the breeze let prayer and praises swell.
Oh! I have much to tell; will ye not hear
Those tidings to my once stern heart so dear?
Turn not away! Ye know not what ye do!
Yet that I did, and I must pray for you!
Like him, my pale-fac'd brother, I must learn
Still, still to strive, though ye but scoff and scorn!
Yes; though ye follow me unto the death,
The Christian's God shall claim my latest breath;
And whilst your keenest tortures ye prepare,
My soul shall rise for you on wings of pray'r;
Nor tear nor sorrow shall bedim mine eye,
When in the white man's Glorious Faith I die.
FLORENCE.

A REMONSTRANCE.

BY CALDER CAMPBELL.

Fie on thee, lazy one! 'Bide not within ;
Nature and Beauty thy coldness reprove.

Come forth and worship the twain; 'tis a sin
To shut ourselves up from the things we should
love.

Fie on thee, lazy one! Fold not thine arms

On thy desolate breast, but come out to the showers

That fall, now and then, just to chase the alarms Which the heat of the sun sends to trouble the flowers.

Fie on thee, idler! Ice in thy blood

Surely hath curdled it, so that no sign

Thou mak'st to convince us thy heart hath withstood Such trial as Time sends to thine and to mine! Yield not to selfishness; be still a child,

Taking thy pastime in gardens and bowers, When sunshine is round thee, and summer is mild, And the bee and the butterfly flirt with the flowers!

Smil'st thou ? 'Tis well. Though sorrows are given, Be sure there's a comfort for every cross;

For HE who permitteth that hearts shall be riven, Sendeth down the sweet dew to refresh the dry moss !

Forth let us fare to the bounteous grace

Of Nature; 'tis only the selfish who cowers O'er Hope's smouldering embers; let us still embrace

New thoughts and new joys, 'mid the dews and the flowers!

He that would enjoy the fruit, must not pluck the flower.

Favourites are like sun-dials; no one looks for them when they are in the shade.

The man of business only, is a sordid man; the man of pleasure only, is a squanderer; the studious man only, is a fool; business and pleasure, contemplation and action, are the true balances by which a man may worthily fill his place in the great world of social being.-Golden Treasury.

On the following morning Grabow made his appearance in a new uniform, put on in honour of his betrothals; his sword was at his side, his equipments all in perfect and brilliant order: with him came an old comrade as weather-beaten and worldly as himself. Frau Margaret received them both as honoured guests, and was almost beside herself with delight when Grabow's friend, the captain, kissed Elizabeth's hand and called her "Gracious Madam," and then was ready to burst with vexation as she saw the flighty girl snatch her hand away, saying: ""Twixt cup and lip there's many a slip." She could not conceive why her husband looked so grave, why his restless glances expressed such painful anxiety, and she turned almost with a shudder from his spasmodic smile. Elizabeth looked beautiful as ever, and not a bit sad or serious. She was attired in a simple robe of pale gray silk, fitting close to her figure and coming up to the throat, where it was finished off by a white lace collar. Clustering round her fair face and round that ivory throat were luxuriantly waving curls, which glittered in the light like threads of gold. Grabow's looks followed her with delight, and he laughed aloud as his old comrade whispered occasional sentences which evidently had reference to her. Presently the clergyman arrived; the lieutenant arose, and drawing from his waistcoat pocket two rings, hemmed twice or thrice, and said:

'My dear friends all! I here present to you my beloved future bride-the virtuous and amiable damsel, Elizabeth Spangenberg-with whom, in your presence, I am now about solemnly to betroth myself."

The minister commenced his address, and Grabow, holding Elizabeth's hand, stood with her before the table covered with white damask, which, pro tem., represented an altar. The maiden's cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled with pride and disdain, an unwonted seriousness clouded her brow. As the minister demanded the rings in order to bless them ere he placed them on each of the betrothed one's fingers, she disengaged herself from her bridegroom, and stepped back apace to her father's side; gently she took his cold hand and kissed it, then tried to look into his eyes, but they were rivetted on the ground, and his lips pressed together as if to restrain the words that would else have burst forth; his knees trembled under him, and a halfaudible groan escaped him. Elizabeth silently

resumed her place, held out her finger with an impatient jerk, and the ring was placed on it. When all was over she passed her hand over her forehead and eyes as one would do who tries to shake off some unpleasant dream or memory; it might have been to hide a tear, for two spiteful girls, who called themselves her friends, vowed they had seen tears; however, if it were so, they were vanished, and those merry blue eyes glittered as brightly as ever. Every one was delighted with her, and declared they never had believed her half so amiable and agreeable; only Grabow was not satisfied, his jealous eyes discovered a mockery in her amiability, a lurking sneer in her gentleness. At last he contrived to

draw her to his side, and whispered:

"Now, my dear, sweet little bride, thou art wholly, solely mine; no one will now interfere with my claims. I wish that fool of a musician would cease his visits now."

"Well, I should have thought that we should see him oftener, for now you will not be jealous of him."

has no need to be jealous. Only show me that thou lovest me, and it may be I may do some good for the boy."

"Jealous, indeed! a successful wooer like me

She fixed her eyes upon him with a penetrating gaze, as if to read his thoughts, and replied: "Love! love you! You do not know what you are talking about. You have, Heaven knows how, bewitched my parents, and, to avert some unknown evil, I too have yielded to your You have me, and yet you have me not. To me all seems like an ugly dream, and I long for daylight to come and dissipate it."

will.

"Child," replied Grabow with a malicious look, "the ceremony which has passed is too serious for a jest. If thou hast no love for me so much the worse for thee; but think not I am the man who will suffer any woman to wrong or fool him. 'Tis true I am old, but my will is firm. Thou hast said 'Yes' before the minister, and art now mine. There never was colt so wild but it might be broken in, and I'll break thee in."

She grew pale beneath his gaze; before her mind's eye the future spread itself out as a dreary wilderness, and involuntarily she closed her eyes as if to shut out the frightful vision but recovering herself in a few moments, and finding that they were objects of general atten

tion, she took her bridegroom's hand, and bending towards him, said:

"You little know me, my good sir, or you would not attempt to threaten me. I cannot help finding it most ridiculous that you should be my bridegroom; and as for your angry looks, I don't care one pin for them; so never think thus to frighten me."

"Well, my dove," he replied, "only you be good and you shall live like any lady, and be as happy as the days are long; but if you play me tricks, Grabow's the man to set you to rights."

God watches over all his creatures," she said; "and in my breast is the firm belief that he will not forsake me; nay, even at the very altar which I shall approach in compliance with the commands of my parents, his hand has power to save me from a fate my soul abhors. I warn you that I shall try every means to escape you yet."

"Do thy best, my pretty bride," he replied, kissing her hands; "thou'lt find we shall come to be wedded, and make a happy couple after

all."

Grabow gradually ceased to speak to any one; he was meditating over Elizabeth's words, and as he did so, a longing for revenge equalled his love. Yes, he would repay her for this insolence, this contempt: his she should be, no power should prevent it; and then he would see if it were not possible to break that proud spirit, and force tears from those audacious eyes. At length his rise broke up the party, and the guests all left them. Scarcely were their backs turned, when Elizabeth tore the flowers from her hair, tossed the ring contemptuously into a box, and took off her silken robe. The mother would have chided, but, meeting her daughter's eyes, coloured and said: "God is my witness, my child, that in all this I seek only thy honour and happiness."

"I believe thee, mother," answered Elizabeth, "although too many mothers have said and thought the same while working their children's misery."

A sharp knocking at the door interrupted any reply Margaret might have felt inclined to make, and, on its being opened, the old woman at whose house Eberhard dwelt, came quickly in. At first she could hardly speak, but after a few moments she was able to inform them that Eberhard had been that morning seized by a corporal and two soldiers, who, notwithstanding he claimed exemption as having been born at Berlin, dragged him away, threatening him for uttering falsehoods, and laughing at his dismay and anxiety. "I understood his wishes, poor fellow," she added, "when he looked back so pitifully at me as they forced him into the street, and came as fast as my old legs would carry me to tell you."

"He has already assisted in this deed," said Elizabeth. "Now will I no longer hold terms with the old hypocrite, but show him forth in his true colours, come what may."

Frau Margaret would have checked her, but started as she looked on her child. Every shadow of gaiety and liveliness had fled from her features; her clear blue eyes flashed lightning; her hair, from which the flowers had just been torn, seemed to curl like glittering serpents around her neek and over her panting bosom; and stern determination sat enthroned on her high brow. For a few seconds she stood as if lost in thought, and then opened the door of the little room in which her father was, and went in to him, closing it behind her. The old man sat motionless in the recess of the window, the red glow of the evening lighting up his haggard features with a melancholy radiance. Elizabeth was deeply moved as she gazed upon him; his white hair glittering almost like a halo, his eyes upraised with an imploring glance to the red heavens, his hands clasped in each other, half sinking towards his knees as if in despair and misery, he deemed God no longer heard his prayers. Elizabeth came and knelt down by his side, and, as her warm hands clasped his cold fingers and strove to loosen them, he looked down upon her without any sign of wonder, and with the same hopeless resignation in his eyes.

"Why art thou here? Does my child, my only child, come to curse her father?" he said, in a broken voice, while a shudder shook his whole frame. "Curse me, if thou wilt! words are empty sound. But believe in God, my child! believe that there is a Being who watches over the good! but believe not that He has an ear for the cry of sinners. It is written: The penitent shall be forgiven,' but it is not true. Give but a hair of thy head to the devil, and he holds thee as with a chain of adamant; and not only so, but God visits our sins on us, even to the third and fourth generation: He makes the innocent children to suffer for the evil deeds of their forefathers. Oh my God! mercy! mercy; if not for me, for this young, beauteous, virtuous being."

Elizabeth had gradually raised herself up, and now she clasped her arms around the old man's neck, pillowed his grey head on her shoulder, soothed him with her gentle voice, fond looks, and caresses, and hung over him like an angel of peace, until tears relieved his aching heart, and he murmured:

Surely God cannot have forsaken me, since he leaves me thee, dear one!"

"No, dearest father; our Maker forsakes not those of his creatures who put their trust in him. I fear not, but feel as if something whispered me that I shall be the messenger of peace to

thee."

With gentle force she led him to a seat, and placing herself upon a stool at his feet, continued: "Forgive me that I say thee, my father! I

fain be thy friend and confident. Father, thou hast ever loved me, ever ministered to my hap

222

piness; how comes it that now thou would'st give me to that bad man, and make me miserable for life? I have seen that thou hast some secret which is in his keeping; I have noticed how he plays with thy grief and fears. Tell me, dearest father, what it is. I feel a presentiment that it will somehow be in my power to help thee, and be quit of him.”

A slight flush passed over the old man's face as he listened to the enthusiastic yet pleading voice of his daughter; his eyes avoided hers, or sank beneath her gaze, and she added:

"My poor father! how thou must have suffered to have become thus worn down! Let me share thy sorrows, whatever they may be. At least I can pity thee, and there is balm in the pity of a loving heart."

"And if I tell thee, child, that I am a wretch, a criminal who deserves death, a thief, and and-a murderer!—"

Elizabeth's eyes sank not beneath his anxious gaze, but in a firm voice she replied: "I could not believe it; or, if so it is, then most certainly wert thou prompted to the evil by Grabow, for thine own kind heart is incapable of conceiving, much less executing what is wicked.”

"I was not always as I am now," said the old man after a pause. "I was formerly a wild, daring fellow, who feared nothing. I was proud of serving under our great Frederick-proud of sharing his victories, proud of doing my duty as a man as well as a soldier. But it all comes to the same in the end! the devil lays wait to catch unwary souls, and the more confident you are in yourself the more sure is he to have you. Thou hast often heard of the battle of Torgau? Well, 'twas there I fell into his clutches. We had fought the whole day through, and when night came, and a cold bitter night it was, nobody knew who had won. All was confusion; friends and enemies were mingled together round the great fires in that wood, and no one thought of injuring the other. What cared we for kings and their quarrels ? we shook hands with each other, and swore to be good friends throughout the night, and so lay down calmly to sleep. The fire near which I lay was surrounded by our enemies, but I did not feel the less secure for that, and was endeavouring to go to sleep, when a tall figure, enveloped in a mantle, approached, and called me by name; and, on my replying, bade me get up and follow him; it was Grabow. I might have refused, for all subordination was set aside then, but I did not; I obeyed, although I had never liked the lieutenant; it was the devil who prompted me; and then when Grabow whispered, Come with me if you would have your pockets full of money,' avarice inflamed my blood, and grasping my musket I followed him. He led me through the wood; what he said I cannot now exactly tell, but his words heated my brain, already fevered with the excitement of the past day, and I was no longer myself; the darkness seemed lighted by gold pieces instead of stars. It was a biting cold night; the horizon glowed with the crimson reflection thrown up from blazing villages, and houses,

and from the countless watch fires, and the paling stars glimmered faintly out through the blood-red hue. We moved on, now stumbling over a corpse, for our way lay across the battle field; now startled by the groan with which the parting soul quitted its clay tenement. At length we came to a thick fir-wood; it was pitch dark here, and Grabow led me along by the hand; suddenly he stood still; the wood opened out into a small heath, and I heard the snorting of horses. The wind blew fiercely, and drove the heavy clouds rapidly across the sky, and as now and then a faint ray of moonlight stole out, I could discern the outline of a waggon standing at a little distance. It is our regimental treasury,' he whispered; no living being is near. I chose you for a companion, knowing you to be a brave fellow, well deserving of a good booty, Force the lock with your bayonet, and we'll help ourselves, and then bury our plunder in the earth until the time comes to be rich. At this moment the moon broke through the clouds, and poured down a faint flood of light upon the scene. Now I could plainly see the waggon, which was half overturned; one of the wheels having sunk into a ditch; two half-dead horses lying panting on the ground; and on the drivingseat a human form, apparently that of a man asleep. On approaching a step or two I observed that his mantle had fallen from one shoulder, and a silver epaulette glittered in the moon-beams, and I recognised the features of our captain. Grabow spoke not, but clasped my hand with an iron grasp. We all knew that he hated his superior officer, who had been advanced by favour, and held the commission that ought by rights to have been the lieutenant's. This captain too was harsh and tyrannical; no one loved, many hated him, for many had been unjustly punished by him. As I stood there my eyes following the direction of Grabow's savage looks, a low voice whispered two words in my ear-frightful words that coursed like molten fire through my heart and brain, through even my very marrow-and were echoed, and re-echoed each time louder, until they thundered around me and stunned every sense. I know not if Grabow spoke them, if they were borne on the wind, or if the evil one breathed them with his fiery breath! but in the next moment I had obeyed :-one bound-one thrustthe mantle fell, and--he was dead!-dead without one cry, one motion! The corpse fell from the seat, and with an involuntary action I drew out the broken steel. The moon burst forth in all her splendour, and her rays were mirrored in the open eyes of my victim, which seemed to gaze fixedly on me. While I stood rooted to the spot in speechless horror, Grabow seized my arm, and shook it, crying, Unfortunate! what hast thou done?'

"He is dead! many a good man has died this day,' I replied.

"Many a better one than he is,' said Grabow. But he was your officer, and, but that the night was too dark to admit of my seeing clearly, I should say you murdered him.'