Green-Mountain Freeman from Montpelier, Vermont • 1

i i. -l A WE HOLD THIS TRUTH TO BE SELF-EVIDENT, THAT 1U MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL. D. 1 THOMPSON, EDITOR MOUNTAIN FREEMAN PUBliSBD BVKSY THV'RSDAY MORNING, OJice Oiwi Hubbard J- Blake's Store, Main Street, Montpelier, "Vt. 0'i dollar ani fifty cents per yar In advance V't-T thi-sc in nths.

Vill via subscribers, who have thiir pi left at thir dior, $2,00. Atv-rd units inserted in a and tasty style, at cus-to-ntry ita I All ither Lejul Nucleus published at the usual rates. j-j- TflsPaul is sent to each town in Washington County (r'3 tst-tie. The postage for any distance within the State will oi! par year, payable quarterly In advance; for aiy rtl'taace, out of the State, 26 cunts per year also payable in fttvaici. Where payment is not made quarterly in ad- ranee, uouiue (itese rates are cnargea.

J. W. WHEBLOCK, Psistsr. 3 Tor the Green Mountain Freeman. TO A FLOWER, BY WILLIAU WIRT JOUNSTOX.

Why fade so soon, my treasured flower Is there no art that can restore The beauty, though but for an hour, That once you wore Thy lovely tint, by Nature given, Long siuce unconsciously hath fled, And thou hast, on lhe breeze of Heaven, Thy fragrance shed. Ah ruthless was the hand, sweet flower, That tore thee from thy fragile stein, And, careless, robbed thy shady bower Of such a gem. And why'Jove'I this faded flmrcr, Whose former semblance scarce remains i Whence draws it that mysterious power It still retains 'Tls for the pleasing thoughts it wakes Of a gentle tone, Bade me accept, and for her sake Call it my own. Washington, Vt. Jfamilij Circle.

The following is one of the prettiest similies we have yet come across, and worthy of repetition "Take the bright shell From Its home on the lea, And wherever it goes It will sing of the sea go take the fond heart From Its home and it hearth, 'Twill sing of the loved To the ends of the earth." Be calm and steady nothing will grow un-dor a moving harrow. For ill do well, thca fear not hell. The best thing in this world is to live above Upright Mkn. We love upright men. Pull them this way and the other, and they only bend but never break.

Trip them down and in a trice they are on their feet again. Bury them i the mud, and in an hour they will be out and bright. You cannot keep them down you cannot destroy them. They are the salt of the earth. Who but they 6tart any noblo project They build our cities, white the ocean with our sails, and blacken the heavens with the smoke of their cars.

Look to them, young men, and catch the spark of tbeir energy. AX EASTERN APOLOGUE. Adallah sat at his morning meal, when there alighted on the rim of his blot a little flv It sinned an atom of and was trone. Bu it cume next morning, and the next, and the next again, till at last the scholar noticed it. Not quite a common fly, it seemed to know that it wits beautiful, and it soon grew very bold.

And lo great wonder it became daily larger, and yet larger, till there could be discerened in the size of a locust, the appearance as of a i its ways, that it found more and more favor with this son of infatuation. It frisked like a satyr, and it sang like a peri, and like a moth of the evening it danced on the ceiling, and, like the king's gift, whithersoever it turned it prospered. The eyes of tho simple one were blinded, so that he could not in all this perceive the subtlety of an evil Gin. Therefore, the lying spirit waxed bolder and yet bolder, and whatsoever his soul desired of duinty meats be freely took and when the scholar waxed wroth, and said, This is my daily portion from the table of the mufti there is not enough for thee and me," the dogfaced deceiver played some pleasant tricks, and caused the silly one to smile. Until, in process of time, the scholar peuceived that, as his guest grew stronger and stronger, he himself waxed weaker and weaker.

Now, also, there arose frequent strife bo-twixed the demon and his dupe, and at last the youth smote the fiend so sore that be departed for a season. And when he wits gone, Abdul lah rejoiced and said, I have triumphant over mine enemy and whatsoever time it pleaseth me, I shall smite hita so that he die. Is he not aJtasstb in min own power!" But after not many days the Gin came back again, and this time he was arrayed in godly garments, and he brought a present in his hand and he pake of the days of their first friendship, and he looked so mild and feeble, that his smooth words wrought upon this dove without a heart, and Is he not a littlo one!" he re-ceived him again into bis chamber. On the morrow, when Abdallah came no' into the assembly of studious youth, the mufti said, Wherefore tarrieth the son of Abdul! Perchance ho sleepeth." Therefore, they re paired even tu the chumber, but to their knocking he made no answer. Wherefore the mufti opened the door, and lo there lay on the divan the dead body of his disciple.

His visage was black and swollen, and on his throat tho jtossito of a finger broader than the palm of a mighty man. All the stuff, the gold, and tho change of raiment, belonging to the ba less one, were gone, and in the suft earth of the garden were seen tho footsteps of a giant. The lniifii measured one of the prints, and behold it was six cubits long. Header, canst thou expound this riddle 1 it the Bottle or the Betting book! Is It the Billiard-table or the Theatre! Is it smoking Is il Laziness Is it Novel-reading But know man. irom an hand-hreath it reached thep stature of a cubit: and still, so wim.in uave beeD- but exceedingly distasteful to the PROPRIETOR.

that nn evil habit is an elf constantly expanding-It may coiue in at the key-hols, but it will soon lrew too big Tor the house. Know, also, that no evil haliit can take the life of your soul, unless yon yourself nourish it and cherish it. and hy feeding it with your vitality give it a strength greater than your own. Arthur's Magazine. iiliscdlcmecms.

From the Home Journal. THE POND OF THE WILLOW. A L0NO ISLAND LEGEND. Some time in the latter part of the seventeenth century, Silas Green, one of the early Puritan settlers of Long Island, dwelt on his farm in the eastern part of one of the central townships. Ilia only child, Alice, was in hor eighteenth year at the time our story opens a small, slender maiden, low-voiced and gentle, with a sweet, spiritual expression upon her pale face, and a loving, poetic soul, which her rigid nurture had failed to chill or change.

Strango it seemed that tho daughter of the stern nrl a(jilirt Silas should he oust in so meek and fragile a mould; and the observer would glance from the child to the parent with the sauio wonder that he would have beheld a lilly of the vala blossoming from the trunk of a rugged forest oak yet a strong affection existed between them, and, as far as his iron tenets permitted, tho Puritan was kind and indulgent to his child. Green was on perfectly friendly terms with the Indians in his neighborhood, and the instruction of a few of tho more docile and intelligent of them in the rudiments of civilization and the leading articles of the Christian faith, was Alice's favorite oc cupation. She had several pupils, who visited her regularly in pursuance of their now studies, and of these, tho most dovoted to her teachings, as well as the most highly gifted by nature, was a youth about twenty years of age, the adopted son of the chief of the tribe. His parentage was unknown to the people among whom In dwelt. A band of them, returning from a successful foray into the lands of a distant tribe, with which they were temporarily at war, had discovered him, an infant, lying at the foot of a tree in the midst of a dunso forest, having probably been abandoned in a sudden flight and the chief, who had first beheld the littlo stranger, urged perhaps by tho singularity of tho by some unwonted prompting of tenderness at once adopted him and took him to his own childless home, giving him an Indian name, which signified The Son of tlie Forest." Ho had grown up well-beloved by all the tribe, though giving little promise of the wnrriorship which befitted their leader.

Courage he had, sufficient for all needful occasions, but 'his disposition was naturally peaceful and gentle yet human nature is, after all, much the same everywhere, and however the stern virtues may be cultivated, the soft ones will win their way so the Son-of-the-Forest, despite the important deficiency in his character, he was dear to his people, and, for their sake, he had first sought the love of the white man. His countenance, notwithstanding its Indian cast of prepossessing, his figure good, and his manner and bearing, even to the very dispo sition of his bcad-cmbroidcrcd mantle, had that air of peculiar and refined grace which nature generally gives ready polished, and which, without her co-operation, the most elaborate educa-, lion can never bestow. Was it wonderful that huart8 80 congenial, and in their ten- derest and most delicate emotions hitherto so is- gentle preceptress, that sentiment, old as tho human race, and more powerful than the proud est conquers its numbers, ere long arose that Love soon catered and walked hand in hand with Religion and Letters in their long and fro- hinr. iniaruuivB nnnurin ir mmhr nnr mind of Silas Green was the faint suspicion of such a state of affairs, which two or three trivial occurrences hud introduced therein. His resolve was speedily taken.

Ho would not acknowledge, even to his own heart, the degrading apprehension that "a savage presume to aspire to, much less win, the affec tion of his daughter but he decided that the girl was fully as marriageable years, and there was no reason why there should be longer delay in granting the suit of her kinsmun.John Wade, for her hand. John Wade was a dweller in a neighboring well known throughout tho region as a goodly youth, thrifty and prospering in tho world yet his avowal that Alice had found favor in his eyes, and the proposal to make her his wife which accompanied it, had lain before Silas Green full eight months without his once urging what he saw was aa unwelcome suit upon his daughter. Now she wus suddenly appalled by the announcement that within a woek she was to wed her kinsman. Like a bolt from an unclouded heav en fell this mandate upon the sunny world of sweet fancies which tho previous day's avowal of mutual love had conjured up. Earnestly but vainly she entreated and remonstrated.

What objection have you to urge against John Wade!" sternly demanded the father. Father, I do not love him. I never can love him," Pish was tho conteinptous reply "love is an unseemly word upon the lips of a modest maiden obedience better becomes them. Let me hear no more of this folly." The preparations for the bridal went on but in the meantime, Alice hud formed a desperate resolve to fly from her father's house, and place herself under tho protection of her Indian lover Her father had quietly but effectually prevented any meeting between the two since his harsh decree had been issued, und the morning of the dreaded bridal day saw all the arrangements of the saerifioe completed but not one for tho es cape of tho intended victim begun. Eight o' clock in the evening was appointed for tho ceremony, und from some cause- the minister could not be at tho house earlier and Alice had pe titioned, and her petition had been acceoded to, that she should be left undisturbed in hor chamber during the afternoon, and until seven had pealed from the household clock.

For two long hours alio sat motionless, revolving her plan in her mind and at length, us one difficulty, one MONTPELIER, VERMONT, THURSDAY, doubt after another suggested itself, so bold and adventurous, so rife with features repulsive to her timid, delicate nature, did the whole schome appear, that she abandoned it as hopeless but then came the thought of that inevitable marriage and now hated groom, and vividly before hor mind roso the image of her beloved and gentle one from whom they would forever; pari her. She hesitnted no longer, but calmly and resolutely went about preparing for her flight, Attiring herself suitably lor her design, she laid a loose mantle and large hood on the- bed in readiness for her departure, and then, seating herself by the window, absorbed in painful reverie, she watchod the rapidly declining sun. It had sunk below the horizon, and tho twilight shadow was deepening fast, when she donned her cloak and hood, and with one brief, earnest "prayer to Heaven for guidance and protection ono quick, passionate burst of tears at the thought of her gentle mother she left her childhood's home forever. Great was tho surprise of the Son-ot-the-Forcst when, at that strange hour, appeared before him, like some celestial vision, the form of his pale mistress but, ere ho could utter a word, she spoke, in a touo that was almost stem in its deep, calm sadness, I am yours now, and forever. Nay" an swering the expression of his face "no ques tions now.

Let us fly; and at onco, while we may." She withdrew into the edge of the forest, while he procured his gun and its auxiliaries, and hastily made a few indespensible prepara tions, and they started on the route which he, divining faintly somewhat of the cause of this sudden movement, had quickly decided upon, hen they had proceeded a short distance, and Alice had hurriedly told her, ttile, they knelt down on the mossy sod, and in the stillness and shadow of the ancient forest, uttered a brief and solemn vow avow binding and holy as minister ever consecrated and without which bond between them, without its tangiblo claim to her lover's protection, the sensitive girl would have hesitated to go on, even in hor desperate and haste-requiring extremity. Their course lay westwardly, toward a point on the shore of the Sound whore the young Indian knew they would find a canoe to transport them to the main land. It was a long and wearying journey that lay before them on foot, of necessity, and by a tortous and untravelled route but lore, and tho fear of being discovered, gave them strength, und they went on unfliigging. The afernoon of the third day saw them nt the Fplo ty a happy cure of their chief-when a margin of a clear and beautiful pond, with a band of tho warriors of the place returned from single groon island, shade i by two or three'" k.rmi8h with a neighboring tribe young trees, on its glassy bosom. Hero the jwith had entwcd hostilities on Son-of-the Forest proposed they should rest un- lofttl ab' inin8 with tbm til tho following morning.

Hitherto they had d0mod t0 by paused but a few hours at niglit.whcu Alice md 00 th followlnS and the utmost slept while her lover watchod beside her; and which all the efforts Wado ventured for a far briefer space in the broad light of dav, I from tho 8r'ltitudo the when she, in her turn, kept guard while tho I young chieftain's weary eyelids closed in slum' Kai WkW ltriu'nvnr thov ful tliaf ihrttr tiii.vli, vonture to take the roposo they sorely needed, tw i the little island offered them a resting-plajc su- euro from the wolves and other wild animals which rendered tho forest unsafe. Tho Son-of-1 the-forest hod swam thither with Ins fair bride, had passed over safe and dry his gun and ammunition, and their slender stock of food, following again through the wator himself; and the two wanderers were resting in the mild rays of the setting sun, when the young Indian bnt down to pluek a moss of r.ire beauty for his companion, a faco almost demoniac in its expression of triumphant hato, parted tho thick bushes on the rmrmnir.p gLin, anA a Vn about what they deemed unimportant matter, ing a duadly charge, was pointed with uuerfiug did notpiess mqnines upon bun. But they aim at las head. But, simultaneously with the i l-i soon discovered his religious belief, while it ein- spnng of tho gun, its unconscious mark hud i i i braced the great leading principles of Christian-suddenly changed his position, and tho futal lead was buried denn in th Ai; With alow rrroan she fcl! ground hut, in that tragical minute sho had seen and recognised tho face upon tho bank. The Son-of-the-Forest noting, heeding naught ut his dying love, bent over hor in agony, sup porting her drooping head.

"Promise mo," she said, in broken, gasping tones, raising to his her eyes, straining thoir earnest gazo through the fast-gathering film "promise me, beloved, that you will never soek revenge for my death." For an instant he hesitated it was a hard exaction at that moment, especially to one of his Indian nurturo yet ho promised. One thing more, dearest. Say that you will never forsako the faith I have tried to teach you that you will not cease to pray to our Great Father till it is truly yours and so, we may meet This promise was readily and earnestly given and then, in anguish unutterable, he pressed bis lips to that beloved brow and withdrew them from tho dead. Throughout the whqlp of that dreary night he lay with his cheek lean ing against the marble ono of his murdered bride, motionless as the rigid form his arms encircled ia the depth of this sudden and terrible afilietion, thoughtless or careless of bis own safety and ever and anon, through those long, gloomy hours, that face upon the shore, now haggard with remorseless sorrow, looked forth in the faint starlight upon the little isle. Ear.

ly ia the following day, the young chief laid beneath its green sod the" White Flower of the North" the name by which Alice was known among his tribe, in allusion, probably, to the northern origin of her people. Carefully and lovingly he smoothed down that lonoly grave, and laid together tho verdant turf over its sur face; then, with his hatched he cut down one of the slondor trees, that the guidon October sunlight might freely rest upon it. His mourn ful tusk ended, with a heart almost bursting with suppressed but passionate amotion, he throw himself upon the spot where his world lay buried, and he was still extended there wheii night fell upon the scene the destroyer of lib his hopes, from his lair, regarding him with at expression rnsembling pity upon his wan auc troubled face. Fifteon years had rolled by si see the events 1 have just narrated, and the principal actors it thorn were rarely named, wore seldom though, of in the region in which they occurred. Tb various parties which had gono in pursuit of the fugitive lovers had returned unsuoerVuf, and one brought tidingsof an additional misfortune.

John Wade, who had been of its number, had accidentally become separated from his companions, and, amid the intricacies of the1 strange region they were scouring, they had sought for him in vain. As weeks rolled hy without any tidings of the missing bnes, there grow, and was ever after adhered to, a popular belief the young Indian was a sorcerer, who had bewitch-the maiden and caused the disappearance of the forsaken bridegroom. His story, which was known to most of the settlers in the neighborhood of the tribe who had adopted hit', fitted well with this notion and it was decided that tho dusky foundling had boon a spawn of tha devil, left in the forest to become a stumbling- block to the people of God. "What Silas Green thought in the matter, did not transpire. A Itttlo more thon a year after his daughters dia- pouth had tofcssht letter to his house, and.

giving it to a man in cnarge, lor ins master, liau lmmeuiwcly de parted. Silas Green sat alone to read his epis- tie. It was a statement, in tho briefed possible tcrnis, of the circumstances of Alices death and was signed "her kinsman and slayer, John Wade." When Green loft the room, jiours afterward, the letter lay a heap of light ashes on the liro beside which he had been seated and never, not even to the ear of his dying wife, who soon after was laid in her grave, did ho breathe a syllable of its contents. A short time after his wife's death, he sold his Long Island possessions, and returned to New England! At the time of which now I write, a Catholic missionary, despite tho joalous precautions of the government, was seeking a field for his labors among the Indians in tho northern part of New-York. He was accompanied by a man of grave yet mild deportment, who, though apparently of no religous order, soeniod entirely devoted to the cause in which the priest was engaged.

Few would have recognised, in tho meek, cealous disciple of Father the Puritan Wade yet it was oven he. Bowed down with griff and remorse for the death of Alice, and the evil design of which it seemed the punishment, the item, unyielding aspect of his rigid creed awed and repelled his drooping spirit and he took refuge in the bosom of the church. Father and his companion had been some short timo in a tolerably large settlement, making observations, without having yet broached their errand, Wado in .1,0 Al. 1 I- one, wno, uougu UKcn figl. ting bravely, with the vanipi ijilf properly ono of that pcoplo.

This "aan was given to tide to bo his servant orslave, but he was received and treated by tho missionaries us ment, they succeeaeu in sootlnnz Ins wounded pride, and winning him to some decree ol con- C. UllUIIUU, WIIUU UiUJ ICiHUUU 1110 HU JO VY uo at the South" that ho professed the Christum faith and, moreover, could read and write. Beyond this, and a few minor particulars in rotation to his residonoo among the people from whom ho had just boon taken, ho ho was perse-veringly taciturn in regard to his history, and the white men, well satiBCed with his willingness to remain with them, and little curious Ji they immediately sought fc imbuo him with their peculiar tenets, while at the samo time they advanced his education in otiier respects for they foresaw that, with his favorable mind and disposition, ho might become a valuable auxiliary in their cause. Before, however.their pupil's education was far enough advanced, and their reliance on his Christain faith sufficiently confirmed, for his admission to the rite of baptism, Father was obliged to return to Canada on urgent business. His absence would, of necessity, be for many months and it was arranged betwoen Wado and himself, that tho former should remain in New-York meanwhilo, to watch over the few scattered seeds they had already planted, and to extend the good work as far as might lie in bis power.

Wads's continued aad unremitting efforts for his household pupil was at last crowned with complete success in the matter nearest to hss heart, and his convert fully qualified to be formally received into the church when Father should return. But during this time, a strango, sad change had come by slow degrees upon the Indian his step had daily grown feebler, hL form more emanciated but he had never complained, and common with many persons dovoted to the spiritual life, was very unobservant of the physical frame, had noted the alteration but slightly. Now, with something of the restless ness of failing health, and, perhaps, with some thing, too, of the mournful presentiment it tends to inspire, the Indian signified his desire to make a journey to tho "Island of Shells," to look once more, and for tho last time, upon tne ancient hunting-grounds of his people, and the faces of the few of his tribe who yot lingered about them for rumor hud long before told him of the death of thorn dearest to him who had dwelt there, and later of the sad diminution of that once numerous tribe. At the name of his own uativo island, which conveyed, too, the first intimation of where tho former home of his pupil lay, Wade started but ho made no ejection to the proposal, and soun after decided to accompany the Indian to tho border of tho Sound. Ho was desirous to explore the country which they would be obliged to pass ind was willing, perhaps, lo look once more ipon the green shore of his forsaken birth-place.

Vhen they had reached tho limit of Wade's promised travel, and had pitched thuir tent in the lutskirts of a hospitable Indian villago, in the vioiiiity of which Wade designed to await his JAMJARY 4, 1855. companion's return, the suddenly increase' feebleness of the latter for the first time drew Wade's serious attention lo his failing state Earnestly and long, and with sorrow and iself-repoach and bitter disapprobation in his heart. did he gaze upon his much-prized disciple, who. breathing hurriedly and with difficuty, reclined in the light of the sinking sun for, with the ficst realization of the murmuring invalid's serious illness, the conviction of it speedy close had entered his mind. PorhuDs from change wrought in bis manner hy these new' emotions, or from the feeling of dependence extreme weakness is apt to engondsr, the manner of the red man suddenly became almost childlike in its affectionate confiMingnsss and before the sun sot ho had told his whole story to Wade, who then learned that his much beloved pupil was tho dispised and hated rival of his youth and that a love more powerful, and a spot more dear than any link with the memory of the tribe among whom had been reuredr had been tho young chiefs strongest inducements to his present journey which was main ly but a pilgrimage to tho grave of Alice.

The agitation of Wado during the greater part of the recital of this unsuspected history, was un-noticod by his companion, who, absorbed in thoughts of the past, gazed upon the glowing Wesl; as was also the husky tremulousness of his tones, as he asked Brother, do you from your heart forgive the man who wrought you this wo, and who, doubtless, Bonght your life instead of the ono ho was doomed to take! I do forgive him from my heart," was the reply Come you pray for him to our merciful Father!" "I pray daily for that man, my brother; though there was a time when I could not," he calmly answered. A disclosure of his own identity, and his fa tal connection with the story of his companion, was upon tho lips of Wade but as ho noted i popular, sne noius a singu-the wan and weary aspect of the sick man, he lwly gentle and persuasive influence over all hesitatod in regard to its expedioncy, and de-1 with whom 8'19 contact. Her friends cident to defer it until a moro favorable season. na acquaintance are or an classes anu persua-The rovolation of the Indian banished all sleep B'on8- but her PUce is ut bome' in tho for that night from tho eyelids of Wade the I centre a very large band of accomplished strange name by which the former had been te and in 8iulPle8t audience to her ud-called among the Northern tribes had given no parents. intimation of what was his unknown and hard- Why tlien- ft beinR 80 hiShly ble88ed ly-cared-for history-and now, when it wa8 with all should render life bright, innocent, told at last, it suddenly and painfully awakened long slumbering and sorrowful memories.

That the Son-of-the-Forost had not discovered, or sus- pected, the guide whom he revered, to he the person from whom his early love had fled, was not surprising, notwithstanding the unchanged name-he had known but liitle of Wade except from occasional report, and the impression made by that, ioined to the knowledge of persons of; somewhat similar fame, would have made the change to what Wado then was, seem unlikely to the verge of impossibility Wearied nnd ex-huewtwl, the invalid slumbered through the night, while his loved and trusted, yet unknown, friend watched, at intervales surveying anxiously his rapidly changing countenance. At dawn of he awoke with the death damp on his brow and Wade had barely time to receive his signalized assent to the requirements of the baptismal rite, and to apply the regenerating waters, ero his spirit fled. As Wade sat long, immersed in thought, by the sido of the departed one that day, ho formed his plnn for the burial, which some of the Indians, whom ho bribed well, assisted him to execute nnd the next morning, one of tho stillest and dreamiest of the Indian summer, they laid the Son-of-the- Forest in the grove of his pale-faced bride. When the mehtncholly task was completed, the Indians waited respectfully while tho white man knelt for a brief space in earnest prayer nl'ove the grave; and then, with thorn, he retraced his course to the main land. Thirty years went by after that later burial, and while they passed, the hand of the white man wrought a marked change in the aspect of the region in which lay that littlo lake, with its island grave.

One day, after the lapse of this long interval, a stranger, whito-huired, and with the furrows of many years upon his face, yet hale in aspect and erect in bearing, appeared there, and at a liberal rate of compensation engaged accommodation for a few days at a farm house. He was not known to any ot the settlers of the vicinage, and as they frequently mot him roaming in a medative mood, when ia tho pursuit of their avocations, he was speedily regarded by them as an author, or a philoso pher, or nerhans a auiet sort of lunatic. His i favorite haunt seemed to be the pond which is the theme of my story, which belonged to the farm adjoining the ono on which he abode and assuredly, had he been unaccoutubly missing, the first search for him would have been made in its still waters. One day he encountered the owner of that favorite pond, and, accosting him, made some remarks upon its picturesque beauty which did not seem particularly edifying to the worthy agriculturist, concluding by requesting permission to cut down the two or three small and unshapely trees which grow on tho little islaud, and to plant a willow in their stead. The farmer readily gave the desired liberty, though he could hardly conceal his contempt for the puerility of the fancy, and internally deci ded that the theory of insanity had been the truo one.

Tho strangor at onoe engaged tworienced zeal could perform littlo, and a bovy of stout farm laborers to cut down and uproot, as fur as might be, the trees to which he objected be supervising thoir work und when it was completed, he plauted with groat cure, a young. slender, weeping willc in tho soil whicn had thus been cleared. A day or two afterward he loft the region. Some years after that time, a venorable man, who, in bis youtb, had been an intimate associate of John Wudo, received a packet addressed to him in a strango hand. It contained a narrative written by Wade, which inoluded most of tho ovonts already here related, and which hud been left by him at bis death, sealed, with directions that it should be transmitted to the friend who received it, should he thon be living if he were not, another recipient was designated.

The communication having been regarded as some sort confidential, had been imparted to the most steady and reliable members of the family into which it came snd their descendants being for the most part a thrifty race, gave more heed and currency to improvements in the cultureof parsnips and potatoes, to profitable methods of manuring nnd desirable styles of planting corn, than to trumpery old tales of wild Indians and runaway girls so that, but for an occasional unworthy member of the family, tho legend of our little island would have been totally, instead, of only almost, unknown at this day. Wadu's willow grew and flourished, and us years went by, it gradually decayed and fell away, piece by piece; but its story, and that of the spot whereon it grew, remained, and in later years, in memory of those blended stories, a gentlo hand planted, where once it stood, another, which now, in solitary grace, waves its verdant tresses over that undistinguished and undeeded gravo. i. s. e.

from the London Examiner. WHO IS MRS. KIGHTIXGALE. Many ask this question, and it has not yet been adequately answered. We reply, then, Mrs.

Nightingale is Miss Nightingale, or rather Miss Flowrence Nightingale, the yougest daughter and presumptive co-heiress ef her father, William Shore Nightingale, of Embley Park, Hampshiro, and the Lea Hurst, Derbyshire. She is, moreover, a young lady of singular endowments, both natural and acquired. In a knowledge of the ancient languages, and of the higher branches of mathematics, in general art, science and literature, her attainments are extraordinary. There is scarcely a modern language which she does not understand, and she speaks French, German and Italian as fluently as her native English. She has visited and studied the various nations of Europe, and has ascended tho Nile to its remotest cataract.

Young, (about the age of our Queen,) graceful, Rna 10 a consuierame exient t.seiui. lorego sue. Palrhle "id heartfelt attractions Why quit 1111 tb'9 to b-'me-a nurse, From inruncJ Bh9 lm8 bd ycamlng f- KKlwa vutu the oppressed, tne destitute, tne suuenng anu tbe dessolato. The schools and the pour around ll" hmhlcy tirst saw and felt her as a 'lur. wacner, consoler, expouncicr, Then sho frequented and studied the schools, hospitals and reformatory institutions of London, Edinburgh and the Continent.

Three years ago, when all Europe had a holiday on and after the Great" the highlands of Scotland, the lakes of Switzerland, and all the bright spots of the continent were filled with parties of pleasure, Miss Xightinga'o was within the walls of one of the German houses or hospitals for the cure and reformation of the lost und infirm. For three long months sho was in daily and nightly attendance, accumulate ing experionce in all the duties and labors of fe-mulo ministration Sho then roturned to be once more tho delight of her own happy home. But tho strong tendency of her mind to look beyond its own circle for tho relief of those who, nominally having all, practically have but too frequensly none, to help them, prevuiled und, therefore, when tho hospital established in London for sick governoresses was about to fail for want of proper management, she stepped forward and consented to bo placod at its bead. Derbyshire und Hampshire were exchanged for the narrow, dreary establishment in Ilarley street, to which sho devoted all her time and fortune. While her friends missed her at assemblies, lectures, concerts, exhibitions and all the entertainments for taste and intellect with which London in its season abounds, Bhe whose powers could have best appreciated these, was sitting beside the bed and Boothing the last complaints of some poor, dying, homeless, querulous governess.

The homelessness might not improbably, indeed, result from that very qtft-rulousness but this is too frequently fomented, if not created, by the hard, unreflecting folly which regards fellow-creatures entrusted with forming the minds and despositions of iis children as ingenious, disagreeable machines, needing, like the steam-engine, sustenance and cover- but, like it, quito beyond or beneath all sympathy, passions, or affections. Miss Nieht- thought otherwise, and found pleasure in tending those poor, destitute governoresses in their infirmities, their sorrows, their deaths or their recoveries. She was seldom seen out of the walls of the institution, and the few friends whom Bhe admitted found her in the midst of nurses, letters, prescriptions, accounts and interruptions. Her health sank under the heavy pressure, but a little Hampshiro fresh air restored her, and the failing institution was saved. Meanwhile a cry of distress and for additional comforts beyond those of mere hospital treatment came home from the East, from our wounded brethren in arms.

There instantly arose an enthusiastic desire to answer it. But inexpe- ill-organized nurses might do more harm than There was a fear lost a noble impulse should fail for the want of a head, a hand and a heart to direct it. It was thon that a field was opened for the wider exercise of Miss Nightingale's sympathies, experience and powers of command and control. But at what cost At the risk of her own life at the pang of separation from all her friends and family, and at tho certainty of encountering hardship, dangers, toils, and the constantly-renewing scene of human suffering amidst all the worst horrors of war. Therp are fow who would not recoil from such realities, but Miss Nightingale shrank not, and at once accepted the request that was made her to form and control the entire nursing establishment for our siok and wounded soldiers and Bailors in tho Levant.

While we write, this deliberate, soneitive and highly-endowed young VOLUME XII. NO. 2. lady already at her post, rendering the holiest of woman's charities to the sick, the dying and the convalescent. There is a heroism in dashing up the heights of Alma in defiance of death and all mortal opposition, and let all praise and 6nor bo, as they are, bestowed upon it but there is a quiet forecasting heroism and largeness of heart in this lady's resolute accumulation of the powers of consolation, and her devoted application of them, which rank as high, and are at least as pure.

A sage few will no doubt condemn, sneer at, or pity an enthu siasm which to thoin seems eccentric or at best lased but to the true heart of the coun try it will speak home, and be there felt, that there is. not one of England's proudest and pur est daughters who at this moment stands on so high a pinnicle as Florence Nightingale. AIT IKOIAH STORY. It was a sultry evening towards the last of June, 1732, that Captain Harmon and his east ern rangers, urged their canoes npon the Ken- nebec River, in pursuit of their savage enemies, For hours they toiled diligently at the oar tha last trace of civilization was left behind and the long shadows of the skirting forests mot and blended in tho middle of the broad stream that wound darkly through them. At every sound from tho adjacent shores the rustling wing of some night-bird, or the quick footstep of some wild beast the dash of the oar was suspended, and the ranger's grasp tig' toned on his rifle.

All knew the peril of the enterprze and that silence, which is natural to men who feel themselves in the extremo of mortal jeopar dy settled like a cloud upon the midnight ad venturers. "Hush Boftly men!" said tho watchful Harmon, in a voice, which scarcely rose above a horeo whisper, as his canoes swept around a rugged promotory there is a light ahead All eyes were bont towards the shore. A tall Indian fire gleamed up amidst the great trees, casting a red and strong light upon the dark -Waters. For a single and broatblesa moment the operation of the oar was suspended, and every one listened with painful earnestness to catch the well known sounds, which seldom fail to indicate the propinquity of the savsges. But all was now silent.

With low and faint movements of the oar, the canoes gradually approach the suspected spot. The landing was effected in Bilcnce. After moving cautiously in the dark shadow, the party ventured within the broad circlo of the light which at first attraoted their attention. Harmon was at their head with an eye and a hand as quick as those of the savage enemy whom be sought. The body of a fallen tree lay across the path.

As the rangers were in tho act ef leaping over it, the hoarse whisper of Harmon again broke the silence God of Heaven he exclaimed, pointing to the tree" See here 'Tis the work of the cursed red-skins." A smothered curse growled on the lips of the rangers as thoy bent grimly forward in the di rection pointed out by their commander. Blood was sprinkled on the long grass and a human hand the hand of a white man, lay on the bloody log. There was not a word spoken, but every countenance worked with tcrriblo emotion. Had the rangers followed their own desperate inclination, they would have hurried recklessly onward to tho work of vengeance but the example of their leader, who had regained his usual calmness and self-command, prepared them for less speedy, but more certain triumph. Cautiously passing over the fearful obstacle in the pathway, and closely followed by his companions, he advanced stealthily with his party as muoh as possible, behind the thick trees.

In a few moments they obtained a full view of the objects of thoir search. Stretched at their length around a huge fire, but a convenient distance from it, lay the painted and balf-naked savages. It was evident from their appoarance, that they had passed the day in one of their horrid revels and they were suffering under the effects of intoxica tion. Occasionally, a grim warrioramong mem started half upright, grasping his tomahawk, as if to combat some vision of his disordered brain, but unable to shake off the stupor from his mses, uniformly fell back into his former position. The rangers crept nearer.

As they bent their keen eyes along their woll-tried rifles, each felt perfectly sure of his aim. They waited for the signal of Harmon, who was endeavoring to bring his long musket to bear upon the head of the savages. Fire he at length exokimed, as the sight of his piece interposed full and dis tinct between his eye and the wild scalp-lock of the Indian Fire, and rush on "tho sharp oice of thirty rifles thrilled through the heart of the forest. There was groan a smothered cry a wild and convulsive movement among the sleeping Indians, and all again was silenJ. The rangers sprang forward with their oldb-bed musketsand hunting knives; but their work was done.

The red man had gone to their last audit before the Great Spirit and no sound was heard among them save the guggling of the hot blood from their lifeless bosoms. Ths Crownof Exoland. The following is estimated as the value of the jewels in this mag-nicent diadem: Twenty diamondsroundth circle, 1,500 each, two large center deamonds, 2,000 each, fifty-four smaller diamonds, placed at the angle of the former, 1,000 four crosses, eaeh composed of twenty-five diamonds, 12,000 four large diamonds on the top of the crosses, 4,000 twelve diamonds oontainod in fleur-de-lis, 10,000 eighteen smaller diamonds contained in the same, pearls, diamonds, open the arches and crosses, also one hundred and forty one small diamonds, twenty-six diamonds in the upper cress 3000 two circles of pearls about the Tim, 3,000. Cost of the stones in the crown, exclusive of the metal, is about 111,900. It is a singular feature in the study of the human mind, that most ludicrous of all poems, John Gilpin, was written by Cowper, in the midst of on of his blackest fits of defection.

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