The weakest hand may have the art The bird that highest, clearest sings, To greet the morning's birth, Falls down to drink, with folded wings, 8. From germs too small for mortal sight The wondrous orbs that round us blaze 4. Life, love, devotion, closely twine, Like tree, and flower, and fruit; They ripen by a power divine, 5. Small duties grow to mighty deeds; Small words to thoughts of power; Like odor from the breathing rose, 1. LITTLE more than a century ago, the beautiful region, watered by this stream, was possessed by a small tribe of Indians, which has long since become extinct, or incorporated with some other savage nation of the West. Three or four hundred yards from where the stream discharges itself into the Hudson, a white family, of the name of Stacy, had established itself in a log-house, by tacit permission of the tribe, to whom Stacy had made himself useful by his skill in a variety of little arts, highly estimated by the savages. 2. In particular, a friendship subsisted between him and an old Indian, called Naöman, who often came to his house, and partook of his hospitality. The Indians never forgive injuries, nor forget benefits. The family consisted of Stacy, his wife, and two children, a boy and a girl, the former five, the latter three years old. 3. One day, Naöman came to Stacy's log-hut, in his absence, lighted his pipe, and sat down. He looked very serious, sometimes sighed deeply, but said not a word. Stacy's wife asked him what was the matter,—if he was sick. * in Orange County, New York. He shook his head, sighed, but said nothing, and soon went away. The next day, he came again and behaved in the Stacy's wife began to think strange of this, and related it to her husband, who advised her to urge the old man to an explanation the next time he came. same manner. 4. Accordingly, when he repeated his visit the day after, she was more importunate than usual. At last, the old Indian said, "I am a red man, and the pale faces are our enemies: why should I speak ?"-" But my husband and I are your friends : you have eaten salt with us a thousand times, and my children have sat on your knees as often. If you have anything on your mind, tell it me."-"It will cost me my life if it is known, and the white-faced women are not good at keeping secrets," replied Naöman. 5. "Try me, and see."-" Will you swear by your Great Spirit that you will tell none but your husband?" I have none else to tell."-"But will you swear?"—"I do swear by our Great Spirit, I will tell none but my husband." "Not if my tribe should kill you for not telling ?"—" Not if your tribe should kill me for not telling." 6. Naöman then proceeded to tell her that, owing to some encroachments of the white people below the mountains, his tribe had become irritated, and were resolved that night to massacre all the white settlers within their reach; that she must send for her husband, inform him of the danger, and, as secretly and speedily as possible, take their canoe and paddle, with all haste, over the river to Fishkill for safety. "Be quick, and do nothing that may excite suspicion," said Naöman, as he departed. 7. The good wife sought her husband, who was down on the river fishing, told him the story, and, as no time was to be lost, they proceeded to their boat, which was unluckily filled with water. It took some time to clear it out, and, meanwhile, Stacy recollected his gun, which had been left behind. He proceeded to the house, and returned with it. All this took up considerable time, and precious time it proved to this poor family. 8. The daily visits of old Naöman, and his more than ordinary gravity, had excited suspicion in some of the tribe, who had, accordingly, paid particular attention to the movements of Stacy. One of the young Indians, who had been kept on the watch, seeing the whole family about to take to the boat, ran to the little Indian village, about a mile off, and gave the alarm. Five Indians collected, ran down to the river, where their canoes were moored, jumped in, and paddled after Stacy, who, by this time, had got some distance out into the stream. 9. They gained on him so fast, that twice he dropped his paddle, and took up his gun. But his wife prevented his shooting by telling him that, if he fired, and they were afterwards overtaken, they would meet with no mercy from the Indians. He accordingly refrained, and plied his paddle till the sweat rolled in big drops down his forehead. All would not do; they were overtaken within a hundred yards from the shore, and carried back with shouts of yelling triumph. 10. When they got ashore, the Indians set fire to Stacy's house, and dragged himself, his wife, and children, to their village. Here the principal old men, and Naöman among them, assembled to deliberate on the affair. The chief men of the council stated that some of the tribe had, undoubtedly, been guilty of treason, in apprising Stacy, the white man, of the designs of the tribe, whereby they took the alarm, and well-nigh escaped. 11. He proposed to examine the prisoners, to learn who gave the information. The old men assented to this, and Naöman among the rest. Stacy was first interrogated by one of the old men, who spoke English and interpreted to the others. Stacy refused to betray his informant. His wife was then questioned; while, at the same moment, two Indians stood threatening the two children, with tomahawks, in case she did not confess. 12. She attempted to evade the truth, by declaring she had a dream the night before, which alarmed her, and that she had persuaded her husband to fly. "The Great Spirit never deigns to talk in dreams to a white face," said the old Indian. "Woman, thou hast two tongues, and two faces. Speak the truth, or thy children shall surely die.” The little boy and girl were then brought close to her, and the two savages stood over them, ready to execute their bloody orders. 13. "Wilt thou name," said the old Indian, "the red man who betrayed his tribe'? I will ask thee three times." The mother answered not. "Wilt thou name the traitor'? The poor mother looked at her children, and stole a glance at This is the second time." husband, and then at her Naöman, who sat smoking his pipe with invincible gravity. 14. She wrung her hands, and wept; but remained silent. "Wilt thou name the traitor'? 'Tis the third and last time." The agony of the mother waxed more bitter; again she sought the eye of Naöman; but it was cold and motionless. A pause of a moment awaited her reply, and the tomahawks were raised over the heads of the children, who besought their mother not to let them be murdered. 15. "Stop!" cried Naöman. All eyes were turned upon him. "Stop!" repeated he, in a tone of authority. "White woman, thou hast kept thy word with me to the last moment. I am the traitor. I have eaten of the salt, warmed myself at the fire, shared the kindness, of these Christian white |