they had not observed before, though he was standing close by them. "I have lived almost fourscore and ten years, and my experience may, perhaps, enable me to decide between you." They told him the occasion of their disagreement, and related the history of their journey round the earth. The old man smiled, and, for a few moments, sat buried in thought. He then said to them: "I, too, have lived to see all the hopes of my youth turn into shadows, clouds, and darkness, and vanish into nothing. I, too, have survived my fortune, my friends, my chil dren; the hilarity' of youth, and the blessing of health." "And dost thou not despair?" said Memory. hope left me." "And what is that?" 14. Memory turned toward Hope, threw herself into his arms, which opened to receive her, and, bursting into tears, exclaimed: "Forgive me, I have done thee injustice. Let us never again separate from each other." "With all my heart,” said Hope, and they continued forever after to travel together, hand in hand, through the world. J. K. PAULDING. "No: I have still one "The hope of heaven!" 90. HIAWATHA'S CANOE-BUILDING. 1. "IVE me of your bark, O Birch-Tree! I a light canoe will build me, Like a yellow leaf in Autumn, "Lay aside your cloak, O Birch-Tree! Lay aside your white-skin wrapper, For the Summer-time is coming, And 'Hi lår' i ty, joyfulness; gayety. HIAWATHA'S CANOE-BUILDING. 2. Thus aloud cried Hiawatha in the solitary forest, By the rushing Taquamenaw, 3. "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar! 4. "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack! Of your fibrous roots, O Larch-Tree! 213 Gird' led, cut a ring round a tree.- O8z' ing, flowing out slowly.Sheer, clean; quite; at once.- Pll' ant, easily bent; limber. My canoe to bind together, 5. "Give me of your balm, O Fir-Tree! Smear'd therewith each seam and fissure, 6. "Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog! Shot his shining quills, like arrows, Sewed (sod).- Sôm' ber, gloomy; dusky.- Fissure (fish ye"). crack; split; opening.—a Crêv' ice, crack; opening. NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS. 215 Saying, with a drowsy murmur, From the ground the quills he gather's Like a yellow leaf in Autumn, H. W. LONGFELLOW. 91. NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS. OT many generations3 ago, where you now sit, encircled with all that exalts and embellishes1 civilized life, the rank thistle nodded in the wind, and the wild fox dug his hole unscared. Here lived and loved another race of beings. Beneath the same sun that rolls over your head, the Indian hunter pursued the panting deer; gazing on the same moon that smiles for you, the Indian lover wooed his dusky mate. 2. Here, the wigwam-blaze beamed on the tender and help 'Re splen' dent, shining with brilliant luster; bright.- Sůp' ple, pliant; flexible; easily bent.-3 Gen er å' tion, the people living at the same time; an age.- Em bål' lish es, adorns; makes beautiful by ornaments. Wig' wam, an Indian hut, or cabin. 6 less, and the council-fire glared on the wise and daring. Now, they dipped their noble limbs in your sedgy1 lakes, and now, they paddled the light canoe along your rocky shores. Here they warred; the echoing whoop, the bloody grapple, the defying death-song, all were here; and when the tiger-strife was over, here curled the smoke of peace. 3. Here, too, they worshiped; and from many a dark bosom went up a fervent prayer to the Great Spirit. He had not written his laws for them on tables of stone, but he had traced them on the tables of their hearts. The poor child of Nature knew not the God of Revelation, but the God of the universe2 he acknowledged in every thing around. 4. He beheld him in the star that sank in beauty behind his lonely dwelling; in the sacred orb that flamed on him from his mid-day throne; in the flower that snapped in the morning breeze; in the lofty pine that defied a thousand whirlwinds; in the timid warbler that never left its native grove; in the fearless eagle, whose untired pinion was wet in clouds; in the worm that crawled at his feet; and in his own matchless form, glowing with a spark of that light, to whose mysterious source he bent in humble, though blind adoration. 5. And all this has passed away. Across the ocean came a pilgrim3 bark, bearing the seeds of life and death. The former were sown for you; the latter sprang up in the path of the simple native. Two hundred years have changed the character of a great continent, and blotted forever from its face, a whōle, peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of nature, and the anointed children of education have been too powerful for the tribes of the ignorant. 6. Here and there, a stricken few remain; but how unlike their bold, untamable progenitors. The Indian of falcon glance and lion bearing, the theme' of the touching ballad, the hero of Sedgy (sej' y), overgrown with a narrow flag or coarse grass, called sedge.-' U' ni verse, the whole system of created things.-3 Pfl' grim, a wanderer ; a traveler who has a religious object.—a Usurped (yủ zêrpt'), taken, and retained that which does not belong to us.- Pro gen' i tors, forefathers. Falcon (fá' kn), like a falcon, a bird of the hawk kind.Thème, topic or subject on which one writes.— Bål' lad, a song; generally, a story in verse. |