Imatges de pÓgina

5. Around the shores of the largest lake* in NewHampshire, there dwelt at that time, a powerful tribe of Indians. Their chief was Páu-gus. He was a sáv-age of giant size and strength,-swift, cunning,-deadly with his rifle and tomahawk, and cruel, venge-ful beyond the native vengeance of the Indians. He was the terror of man, woman, and child, along the frontiers, and even among the small cities on the very edge of the


6. Bands of sol-diers had often pén-e-tra-ted to the shores of this lake, to find out the re-treat of this terrible savage, and if possible to slay or take him prisoner. But he was too cunning and always e-lú-ded their search; though, at one time they came so near, that he saw the blaze of his wig-wam as they set it on fire, and the smoke of it cúrl-ing among the tree tops that were then above his head.

7. Often had Chamberlain sought, in the Indian battles he was engaged in, to find out the form of Paugus, to make him the mark of his rifle, or to en-coún-ter with his hatchet the tomahawk of this fearful warrior. But they never had chanced to meet,—although Paugus had learned of his tribe, the character and prow-ess of Chamberlain.

8. A small body of brave men, under the command of Captain Lov-ell, were on their way through the wilderness, in pursuit of the Indians, and by chance passed near the dwelling of Chamberlain. He saw them, and learning the object of their march, he joined them, and was considered by them all as a great addition to the strength of their devoted little band.


Winnipiseogee,-Win-ni-pe-sóge,-is twenty-three miles long and ten broad. It is very deep, and contains three hundred and sixty-five islands, some of which are large enough for extensive farms. The scenery connected with this lake is said to be superior to any thing else of the kind in the United States. The lake is four hundred seventy-two feet higher than the level

of the ocean.

9. They traversed the woods, and en-coún-ter-ed an o-ver-whelm-ing body of Indians near Lovell's Pond. This took place in May, 1725, and will long be remem-ber-ed as one of the most ób-sti-nate, and hard fought battles in the history of Indian warfare.

10. After the thickest, and most desperate of the conflict was over, Chamberlain, weary with fightingthirsty and faint under the hot sun,--had retired to the edge of the pond to drink and to wash out his gun, which had grown so foul with frequent firing that at last he could not make it go off.

11. Scarcely had he arrived there; when lo, from the thicket, at a short distance from him, e-mérged the stately figure of Paugus, covered over with dust and blood, making his way to the water.

12. The wár-riors at once knew each other, Chamberlain's gun was useless, and he thought of rushing upon Paugus, with his hatchet, before he could load his rifle; but the Indian's gun was in the same condition with his own, and he had come to the pond to quench his thirst, and hastily scour ut his foul rifle.

13. The condition of their guns, became immediately known to the warriors, and they mú-tu-al-ly agreed not to attack each other till they had washed them out, and both were ready to begin to load. They slowly and with equal movements, cleansed their guns, and took their stations on the outer border of the beach.

14. "Now, Paugus," said Chamberlain, “I'll have you," and with the quickness and steadiness of an old hunter, sprang to loading his rifle. "Na, na," replied Paugus, me have you,-me kill you quick," and he handled his gun with a dex-tér-i-ty that made the bold heart of Chamberlain beat fast, and he almost raised his eyes to take his last look upon the sun.

15. They rammed their car-tridg-es; and each at the same instant cast his ramrod upon the sand; "I'll have you, Paugus," shouted Chamberlain, as he almost resolved to rush upon the savage, with the britch of his rifle, lest he should receive his bullets before he

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could load. The woods across the pond echoed back the sound.

16. Paugus trembled as he applied his powder horn to the pri-ming. Chamberlain struck his gun britch violently upon the ground,-the rifle "primed herself," he aimed, and his bullet whistled through the heart of Paugus. He fell, and as he went down, the ball from the mouth of his as-cend-ing rifle, touched the hair upon the top of Chamberlain's head, and passed off into the bordering wilderness, without avenging the death of its dreadful master.

17. Chamberlain, after re-cóv-er-ing from the shock of such a fearful and im'-mi-nent en-coun-ter, cast a look upon the fallen savage. The paleness of death had come over his copper colored forehead. He seized upon his rifle, bullet pouch, and powder horn, left him on the leafy sand, and sought again the lés-sened ranks of the white men as they wearily defended themselves against the en-cír-cling savages.

18. He shouted to them of the fall of Paugus. The Indians looked about them,-the tall figure of their chief was no where in sight. In grief and despair, they ceased their fire, and withdrew into the woods, leaving Chamberlain and the few who sur-vived the conflict, to retrace their steps to the distant settlement.



1. In the month of De-cém-ber, 1821, a Mr. Blake, with his wife and an infant, was passing over the Green Mountains, near the town of Ar'-ling-ton, Ver


2. The drifting snow made it im-pós-si-ble for the horse to pro-ceed. Mr. Blake set off on foot in search of as-sis-tance, and perished in the storm before he could reach any human dwelling.

3. The mother, alarmed, as is supposed, at his long ab-sence, went in quest of him, with her infant in her arms. She was found in the morning, dead, a short distance from the sleigh. The child was lying on her bosom, carefully wrapped in her cloak, and was still alive.

4. The cold winds swept the mountain's height,
And pathless was the dreary wild,
And 'mid the cheerless hours of night,

A mother wan-dered with her child.
As through the drift-ed snow she pressed,
The babe was sleeping on her breast.




And colder still the winds did blow,

And darker hours of night come on,
And deeper grew the drifts of snow,-

Her limbs were chilled, her strength was gone;
"O God," she cried in accents wild,
"If I must perish, save my child!"

She stripped her mantle from her breast,
And bared her bosom to the storm,
And round the child she wrapped the vest,

And smiled to think her babe was warm.
With one cold kiss, one tear she shed,
And sunk upon a snowy bed.

At dawn, a tráv-el-ler passed by;

She lay beneath a snowy vail,—
The frost of death was in her eye,

Her cheek was cold, and hard, and pale;
He moved the robe from off the child:
The babe looked up,-and sweetly smiled.



Bleak, exposed to the wind, cold.
Cab-in, a small house, a hut.

Pil-lared, supported by columns, or pillars.
Thyme,-time, a plant.

Bow-er, a covered place in a garden.
Sil-ve-ry, soft, musical, covered with silver.
Twi-light, the faint light after sun-set.
Vine-yards, grounds planted with vines.
Dye, color, hue.


Fox-glove's bell', a wild flower.
Fern, a particular plant.

Barks, little vessels, or boats.

Fái-ry, an imaginary being or spirit, supposed to assume a human form, dance in meadows, steal infants and play a variety of pranks.-N. WEBSTER.


The Adopted Child.-MRS. HEMANS.


1. WHY would thou leave me, oh, gentle child?
Thy home on the mountain is bleak and wild,
A straw-roofed cabin with lowly wall;-
Mine is a fair and pillared hall;
Where many an image of marble gleams,
And the sunshine of picture forever streams.


Oh, green is the turf where my brothers play,
Through the long, bright hours of the summer day;
And they find the red cup moss where they climb;
They chase the bee o'er the scented thyme,
And the rocks where the heath flower blooms they
Lady, kind lady! oh let me go!


Content thee, boy, in my bower to dwell!
Here are sweet sounds which thou lovest well;
Flutes on the air in the stilly noon,
Harps, which the wandering breezes tune,
And the silvery woodnote of many a bird,
Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard.

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