VOLUME SH. NEW SERIES. THE BEDFORD GAZETTE l rUBUMIKO EVKtiY FRIDAY MUINING BY BY ES. F. v* HYtillS, At the following terms, to wit: #1.50 per annum, CASH, in advance. $2.00 " " if paid within the year. £2.50 " " if notpaid within the year. subscription taken tor les< than six months. £S""NO paper discontinued until all arrearages are laid i unless at the option of the publisher. <t has been decided by the United States Courts that the stoppage of a newspaper without the payment ol ar earages, is prima facie evidence ot fra.nl anil it a -rimirial offence. KTThe courts have decided that persons arc ac countable for the subscription price ol newspa per!, it they take them fiom the post office, wheth er 'hey subscribe for them, or not. RATES CF CHARGES FOR ADVER TISING. Transient advertisements will he inserted at the rale of SI.OO per square of ten lines for three inser tions orles", hut for every subsequent insertion, Sscents per square will be charged in addition.— table and figure work double price. Auditor's notices len I n.e-. and under, $1.1)0 ; upwards often lines and under fifteen $1.50. Liberal reductions mcde to pprsons advertising by the year. Original <£ a I e - LEGEND OF THE SPRING BY DR C. N. tIICKOK. Pe then A epirit of health, or goblin datnn'd, firing with thee air- from heaven, or bU-ts trom hc-U, fie thy intents wicked, or charitable. Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, That I will speak to thee! [ Hamlet. It was on the afternoon of one of the extra ordinarily li d days for which the year IS— will king he remembered, that I had occasion to visit the celebrate 1 Mineral Spring, near Bedford. All nature wore the appearance of languor. The leaves of the green corn, instead of lilting their long spear points to a rustling breeze, hung motionless, like withered moss, from their bend ing stalks. The herbage appeared burned and parched as il by fire. The herds sought the shade, nr panting betook themselves to the cool btook side. Not a zephyr's breath moved lire forest boughs, n n r hummed -its accu.totned chant amid the pin-' tops. Nut a ripple disturbed the surface of tin* little lake, into which the waters ol the health giving spring pour their tribute. The speckled trout lay reposing under his rnos tv awning, and even the goddess ol (lie foun tain appeared to have yielded to the general in fection, for 'lie jt over which she presides, played languidly thimigh the air, and fell spray less, and less noisily tlinn is its wont, into its pebbly bed. The long colonade ol the "Spring's Hotel" was deserted. The busy crowd that thronged it in the morning, were dispersed to their couch es, to enjoy their siesta and find repose for the dissipations and fatigue of the ball and dtaw ing rooms in the evening. Finding no company, nor anv thing else to engross toy attention, I treated myself to the luxury ola bath, and then undeilook the herculean la'k of a pilgrimage to the "Summer-house" on the su rimit of •■■Con stitution Hill." With lh exception of the ntlificia) pathways which l ave been, excavated along the steep de clivity, to render it accessible, this hill has been preserved in all its original beauty. Not a tree has been displaced ; riot a lallen trunk has been rmoVni. The underbrush grows among the rocks in a' 1 its wild and tangled luxuriance, enabling the visitor, by the transition of a few steps, to change the lameness of att I i (lie ro mantic and rugged beauties of nature ; and were it not fjr presence of the path ways, it would require no great stretch of the imagination fur t ho visitor to fancy himself in the primitive forest, an>id the haunts of the red crun ; and as I loitered along, I could riot help thinking myself on sacred ground, where yet dwell the "spirit host" ol the dparted nations, V'ho here lived, and acted, d ml died who, though lorgotteri and their memory ouri.-d in Ojlivion, still existed with interests coequal with our own. As I turned at the numerous angle* and wind ings of the labyrinfhian causeways, and cast my eves along their deep perspective views, I almost canceled to see the gaunt form of the Indian hunter bounding from their thicket bor ders, ot the coy maiden gliding among'ln- foli age, or to hear reverberating through the firest, •he shrill veil of the warrior. But nought ap peared to disturb my vision. No sound startled iny hearing; all was motionless and silent as tho grave. Not a cricket's chirp broke in upon the stillness; even my own footsteps were un heard and unheeded, as I pondered on the chan ge* which time had wrought in the scene, and tried in lancy to recall the picture, in all its wild magnificence, ere art had deformed its beauty by her sacrilegious touch. Where, (I asked my thoughts) are the wig wam hom-s that studded yon bright green, where now the castles ot the white man rear their proud fronts 7—Where is the cheerful song ol the Indian mother who there tilled her field of tender corn, and watched with joyous eyes the gambols of her little ones, ot went out to meet her warrior lord, and welcome his return fr n m the hunt or conquest 7—Where is the chief tain, who weary with tho chase, sat in wig wam door at sunset, and placed hi* ponderous bow in (he hands of his infant boy, anil laugh: him to speed the feathered arrow, and wield the tomahawk 7 Where is the young brave, who in these wild retreats so often told his tale of love, and poured into the ear of the Indian girl his impassioned vows?— Where are they, ttfho made these hills and mountains eloquent, and gave these valleys tongues, with their shouts of ttiumph and ric:ory. As from the rocks and trees The voice responsive spoke, now lo'ld and long j b'ow pealing from this crag; now there again From yond- rgl ule : Now clear and lull; now sott, And softer still ; unlit a whisper comes To tell, how like this (leeting echo, are The things of time. Alas ! they are all gone. The wigwams are in ashes. Thai mother and her little brood have long been dwellers in the spirit land ; and where they played, Ih? child of the pale lace holds his sports. The retreat ol the lovers is now thronged by sitkly sensualists; the maid en's charms have flown ; the warrior's arm is in the dust; his bowstring is dissevered, and his tomahawk corroded by the rust ot years: and where he trod, haughty in his noble, manly pride, the effeminate city exquisite stiuis in his borrowed plumes, as if in contemptible contrast of the past and present yea's,—the red man and the pale race. Occupied by such thoughts as these, I found myself almost before I was aware of it, at the "summer house," and weary and warm, I threw myself upon one ui the rusiic benches, and pursued my solitary thoughts undistuibed. The view from the "summer house" is mag nificent in tlie extreme. The edifice stands or. the btow cd the mountain, on the uttermost "point of its summit, where it extends like a lofty promontory in'o the surrounding valley. A 1 eve of the trees have been removed from the end of the hill, iri the direction of the vale, for the purpose of rendering the view le.-s ob structed. On ail other sides nought is seen but the overhanging foliage of the densp forpst. Through the open space, the distant moun tains are seen on the noith, east and west, ris ing in bold, rugged majesty, crag on crag, tier on tier, like a vast amphitheater, formed fur the assembling of a universe, until the topmost wall, the grand, hoar summit o! the giant Alleghany, crowning the mighty pile in the dim distance, kisses the clouds, and like the scarce percepti ble blending of two almost equal shades, joins earth grid heaven. In the middle landscape the romantic Juniata winds, now like a thread of silver through the open valley, now hidden from sight by an in tervening hill; here flowing calmly and slug gishly by the cultivated fields, there rushing and foaming o'er its rocky bed in the wild forest, and anon receding en'irely from view, it passes from the valley through a gorge in the moun tain, on its way to the mighty ocean. Nearer a village church, with its fall spire ar.il cross, strikes the vision, embedded in its cluster of trees, marking the locality of the vil lage itself, which is concealed by n neighbor ing elevation ; and still nearer, just at the base of the hill, lies the little lake, with its "tiny isle of emerald green;" and the music of its outlet, as it forms a foamy cascade over the rocks, reaches the ear like the distant lulling murmurs of a gentle breeze. A rus l ic mill, and a towering precipice of rocks beyond, and the brook and arborpd road winding through the vale below, complete the enchanting prospect. As I lay musing and gazing on the beauty spread out before me, a misty indistinctness gath ered over the scene. Strange, shapeless forms hovered round me, none of which I was able clearly to define. While I was endeavoring to account fur what I saw, tny attention was ar rested by the appearance of a tal! shadowy fig ure that emerged from the thicket near by, and approached me. It was that of an old man; 'Extreme age was there, and had left its impress, but it had Jailed to bend his haughty, erect firm. His long, straight hair was while as snow, but Ilis step that should have been feeble, was light and elastic, and as he drew nearer with a noiseless tread, I noticed that his inter vening form seemed transparent and did not ob struct the view of objects beyond, and that the leaves and moss pressed not down, nor rustled beneath his weight. Over his shoulders was wrapped a coarse blanket, evidently made from the bark of trees. His limbs and feel were clad in leggings made of the untanned skin of the wild cat, and moccasins of the same material, ornamented with (uft3 of etained horse hair. Encircling his head, neck, arid wrists, were chains formed with the tusks of the wolf, con necled with huge links of virgin gold. A sin gle pluine from the eagle's wing drooped over his brow. In one hand he carried a bow of large dimensions, in the other an arrow, A massive stone tomahawk was strung in his belt, and over his shoulders, suspended by the skin of an enormous rattlesnake, was a quiver of pan ther skin filled with feathered arrows. I was startled and about to raise myself, but as the apparition drew nearer, I saw that I had nothing to fear. His sad, benevolent oounte- Freedom of Thought and Opinion. BEDFORD, PA., FRIDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 21,1362. nance indicated no harm, and had it been other wise, his bowstring was broken, and the shall of his arrow was bent and worm eaten. When ire came opposite me, he paused, and eyed me lor some moments in silence, with a mournful expression, a deep drawn sigh heaved his breast ; he shook his head, and passing on, vanished from my sight. E'er 1 had recovered horn the revery into which my surprise had thrown me, I saw him returning in the same direction in which he had at first come. He paused again where I lay, and regardea me with the sa.ne sad, melancholy look, sighed heavily, and pass ed on as before ; nor was my astonishment di minished, when I saw him approach the third time and fix on me hi* mournful gaze, more sad and grief like than before : De--pei sighs strug gled lor utterance, and tears trickled down each furrowed cheek. Wondering and afraid, 1 de termined lo accost him, but my stiffened tongue needed not to make the exertion to break its bon dage, for the figure raised its hand as if to en join silence, and with impressive solemnity thus addressed rne : "Son ol the pale face, (hou seesllhercd man weep ; 'tis not tiis nature, but I tie breast of the red man is .full of sorrow."— "Son of the pale lace, the red man reads ihy heart, and it is friendly to his race. There is kindness for him in Ihy breast. Thou hast bad tliv bosom filled with indignation at the recital cf his wrongs. Thou hast shed the tear of sym pathy for his grievances. His sad and hopeless condition, has made thy cheek blush for those od thy people, by whose wrong he has been degia ded. His injuries have caused Ihy young blood to boil, and thine eye lo flash with anger. The red man knows this and he is grateful —He would recompense thee, and show thee how to avoid much sorrow. Then listen, son nf the pale face, and let the red man's voice teach thee ol wisdom ; let the experience of the past, warn thee ol the future. Man comes, and goes; —has birih, and dies, —lias jny, and sorrow and ruin often follow in the track of pleasure ; but learn thou that in his own evil nature are the elements ol his ruin contained ; and in hi = fall, his own bad passions are often the workers of his destruction. The Great Spirit has said it, and it shall be so." "Son ol the pale face, spirits are ever hover ing around man's path from his cradle to his grave, seldom appearing, but always present, and his acts are never unobserved. They are around thee now : Thou see'st their shadowy forms; thou may 'st never see them again, until thou shall be like lliem ; but some of them will always be by thy side, and in thy path before thee, and will follow thee where thou goest. Some would do tli-e good and influence thee for Ihy happiness ; some are malignant spirits and would harm thee and lake advantage of thy weaknesses and thy passions to destroy thee. As thou growest older these to whom thou lis tenest will he with thee, those thou shunnest will be gone. Listen to the good when th'ou hearesl them speak in thy spiiit's ear and I heyxvill stay and guard thee ; shut thine ear to the bad, hear them not, and they "will flee from thee." "Often is thy heat> ruled by quick anger, and thy spirit has cause to weep for words spoken and acts done by thee when the tempest of hot mission is upon thee and disdains lo listen to thy reason's voice." "Son of the u bite man, beware ! Cherish not anger, haired, 'nor revenge, for like the hot blasts of wind in the dog days, shall they dry up Ihy young blood, if Ihey be harbored in Ihy breast. These passions entered the heart of the young chief ola mighty nbtion, whose hunting grounds lay among these hills and mountains, man\,. many moons ago, or never would the pale face have trodden her.*, and the sickly vic tim of vice have fainted this pu-e air with his fetid breath Here yet would the child of the red men have sported—Here yet would the wild chase have been kept up, and the dance of tri umph and victory perpetuated." "Son of the pale face, listen ! Many hundred moons ago a powerful natiqfi dwelt here. The Ka-ma-was were a mighty tribe. Their names litve long been lorgolten, and their deeds have passed from the memory of man. Many trib''* came and departed since their time, before the Shaw-nee were masters of this 3oif.—The Shaw nee has disappeared, and the while man lias no rival now ; but none were like the Ka-ma-was, successful in the hunt and brave and victorious in battle. The power of their foes was exerted for nought, lor the Great Spirit was their friend. The arrows ol ihmr enemies wete poisoned in , vain, for the antidote was here." "Thou hast drunk of the spring where the sick pale face resorts for health ? That spring has lust much of its power ; the enchantment ol its waters has departed : Health is still in its tide, but the strength of its glory has fled. That spring was the Ka-ma-wa's safe-guard ; for him it w as created." "Listen, pale face! Wa-Kon Tun-Kali, the Gocd Spirit, revealed himself to a wise prophet
ol the Ka-ma-was, and with him made a cove nant, that the Ka-ma-wa* should be his favorite | itine ; that they should he prospered in all their ; undertakings; victorious in the repulsion of their enemies ; successful in the hunt; wise in council, and fleet in the cha-e. The poisoned arrow's of their foes should not harm tliem, for a draught from the spring should render the poi j son powerless. It should banish disease from their borders: give strength lo the warrior's arm, and courage to his heart ; swiftness to their young braves, and beauty to their daughters. For their nation alone was the blessing given ; but with it a command, upon obedience to which hung the continuance of the Grfat Spirit's fa vor. That condition was peace. While Ihey wer permitted lo repe] the encroachments of their enemies from their borders, they were for bidden to make war. They were reqnirpd to treat their prisonsrs with kindness and mercy. They were commanded to banish from their breasts a spirit of revenge against an enemy, much less against those of th-ir own nation. Mulder,that child of anger, hatred and revenge, was prohibited on pain of (he Great Spirit's an ger, and the nation's ruin." "Long (lie tribe of the Ka-ma-was prospered. Their ch?.-,e was always successful; their hat ties ended in victory. Their squaws were fair er, their young warrior* more noble in their strength, more exp-rt in the use of the how and tomahawk, than were any of the surrounding tribes. Moons came and vanished : The sun took ii 13 course across the topmort heaven, and made his wav along the south horizon ; then tracked again the zenith in his unvarying round: —Seasons came and faded, and still the Ka-ma wa was happy. As each succeeding coin dance came round, their trust in Wa-Kon Tuu-Kah was stronger, their council fires burned bright er, for the Groat Spirit blessed them. They loved the Great Spirit, lor His word failed not. They knew not sickness, for the water from the enchanted spring, which fliey carried in vials c f the alder wood, was a charm to ward off the • will of Wa-Kon Shee-rhah the bad spirit. The wounds of their enemies harmed them not, < r tile water staunched the flowing blood, and ■ brought life back again. Their chiefs and people lived strong and happy, until a good old age, and then glided peacefully into the grave, and i sank to rest, as sinks the summer's sun beneath | the western sky." "But the Ka-ma-wa is gonp, he is not here." J •'Son of the pale face, listen ! The spirit of revenge came and the Ka-ma-was fell. The guod old chief Wal-lal-lah had departed to the i spirit's bright hunting ground, where the chase wearies not, and the golden arrow never misses i its aim, leaving two children, the young chief Mo-we-en, and his sister the beauteous Wi-no na." "Mo wr-en was but a boy in years, but in stature and in btaverv tie was a man. With the cunning of the red Ibx, jie had the strength ami daring of the wild catamount. His young and tender hand had taken trophic* horn '.he en emy,• and proud were the Ka ma-was lo hail him chief. Kind was his nature, but his pas sions we re like the quick, hot blaze ol the pine ' wood fire." "Wi-nn-na w a s beautiful as the rose lint, that stains the sky hefiue the rising sun. Her eye . was gentle as the soft gaze of the turtle ; her st. p light as the fleet (awn. She was the de light of Urn Ka-ma-was—they all loved her, for she was worthy of their love." "Sixteen summers had spread their flower* for h"r bounding feel, when Mo-we-en and his warriors return-d Irom a fight with a distant tribe, who had encroached on their hunting : grounds, bringing spoils and prisoners. Among the captives wax the son of the chief of the Wah-pe-lons, the mortal enemies ef the ha- 1 ma.was. When Mo-we-en found his fix- in his rawer, his heart whi pered f>r revenge, but fear j 1 nf the Great Spirit's cuise stayed iiis hand from i violence, yet his heart was bitter within his bo som." i "The prisoner We-me-hee or the Eagle ga- I zer, was a young chief of noble rtature and noble heart. Stately, proud, and haughty in ' the presence of his enemy, he pined in secret. Mo-we-en saw it, and Ins heart exulted, lor he longed lo humble the proud son of his father's deadly foe. But when the gentle VVi-no-na stole a visit to the yourg prisoner, to carry to him tfie dainties, which her own hand had pre pared, aid he cast his admiring gaze on her,: his proud nature yielded, and he ceased lo think hims.elf a captive. At dawn and at snnset she sought him, bill Mo-we-en knew it not, and j soon she heard VVe-me-hee's tale of love, and 1 her hoart responded to its its accents. They met in the wild retreats of tile forest, for We- ; me fire roamed at will. The red man will not i break his trust —We-me-hee was a captive, but his honor kept him so." "Fierce was the anger of Mo-we-en, when lie learned by one of his tribe that We-me-hee had dared to love VVi-no-na ; but his passion a mouMed to frenzy when he knew that love was returned. His enemy was worthy of his sis-i tef'a affection, but Mo-we-en's vengeance tea- | sonad not. The old brava* entraatod him in 1 ' vain, and with his mother, clung around him, but he dashed away their detaining hand?, and seizing his bow and quiver, rushed into the for est." "We-me-hee am) Wi-no-na were seated side by side, on a rock where the great limestone spring gushes from the hill : hr h--a I rested on his shoulder and her hand was clasped in his." "Beauteous Wi-no-na," sai 1 the lover, "oh, that thou wert with me, where my own tribe dwells. There should our lite be like the days of a never ending summer : our joys should know no end ; Wi-no-na should be queen, and -my nation should delight " "But the sentence was unfinished. An ar row from an unseen hand pierced his heart, and bounding, into the air, he fell a corpse at the maiden's feet. With a wild cry she sp'ang up, but it was only to fall upon her lover's body, (or from the gash of another arrow from her bro ther's bow, welled the warm tide, and mingled with her lover's blood." "Willi his deed of revenge, the angry spirit of M'-we-en fl.-d, and with agony he saw his crime in its hideous light, and Irantic with eri-* f and horror, as lie bef >re had been with passion, he rushed forward and fell at his sister's side, and raised her dying head." "Wi-no-na!" he shrieked, "oh! my rister ! my beautiful, my only one, do not die ! Oh ! Great Spirit, listen to Mo-we-en's prayer ; for give his crime, and let VVi-no-na live!" "With joy he thought of the enchanted spring, and with the speed of the wind, he brought of its water, and held it to his sister's lips. But the covenant was broken, and the spring had lost its power. With her dying pyes turned tenderly on her brother, VVi-no-na softly whis pered, "Mo-we-en is forgiven," and her spirit joined her lover's in the hunting grounds of,' paradise." "The old braves found Mo-w e-en kneeling i by his sister's side ; his head buried between his knees. Deep groans of anguish rent his , They tried to raise and cnmlort him, but he heeded them not. "Wi-no-na is dead," tie said, "and so let Mo-we-en di":" and he raised his hand to plunge his homing knife into his bo j *oin," but ere it fell, the weapon was wrested from his gra*p. When .Hah-pon, the nioth | er of Mo-we-en, saw what he had done, she i shrieked not, nor wept; hut a tremor shook her fiame, and her eyes gleamed Irom their pale sockets with the luster of madness, as in a hoarse, uneaithly whisper she addressed her son. - ' I "Son of Wal-lal-lah rise!" i "Her command was obeyed." "Son ol Wal-lal-lah, listen to thy mother's voice, for Ihv vengeful spirit has destroyed Iter ! peace.—The light of her eyeg is gone, wrench ! Ed Irom h"r by thy murderous hand. The Great Spirit is angry with thy people; thv wicked J passion has displeased Him. Thou hast broken j the covenant which thy fathers kept, and hast brought ruin on thv nation. Thou should'st havp been thy nation's preserver, but thou art her destroyer. Then listen, son of Wal-lal-lah, to Ihv mother's curse, for her ban shall he np 'on thee. Tliou had murdered thv whole na tion. They all shall die, and llieir hunting grounds shall be desolate. 1 hey shall go to the ' hunting grounds where tlmir fathers are. Other tribes shall own their wigwams, but they shall j not bt-hoid it, thou, only tliou, shaft live to, ' behold the ruin tliou hast wrought. Full six'y ; lime* six score moons shall wax and wane, and j thou shaft be a wanderer on the Ka-ma-wa*' tnil, onre thine own, hut thine no longer. Thou | shaft seek rest, but sleep hall fly Irom thee. Thy bow shall not speed Ihy arrow lo thv mark, and j i thou shalt hunger, because thy quiver shall fail 'thee. Famine shall follow thee, and thirst shall be thy companion. Oh 1 thou halt long to die, but the Groat Spirit shall not hear thy pray ; er. Thou shall hover over the graves of thy , people, hut thou shaft not lay thyself down until the time ol Hah-pon's curse be ended. Once ' each moon, a* the full orb ascend* the meridian, shaft thou hear *oft strains of sweet music, waf ted from the balmy shores of the epirit land, | where thy people dwell, and its sound* shall fill the* with remorse for thy crime, and thy shiiek of anguish shall be heard oil the stillness of the night, and Ihy civ reach above th howling* ot the storm. Hah-pon has epnkrn. and now will she follow IVi-no-iu to the Spirit land." "Son ol thv pale face, thou see'st that high ledge of rock* on yonder sleep above the mill where th white man grinds his corn 7 Thith er the mother of Mo-we-en fled, and with a wild shriek, spiang into the air, and fell man gled and lifeless ou the sharp crags below" • • * • • "The curse ol Hah-pon was fulfilled. Thp Ka-ma-wa* dwindled away and died. Their enemies were successful against Ihpm, and their young biaves fell in battle. Consumption* fixed itself upon the aged and tho young, and the • It is a noted fact, with regard to tho water ol the "Bedford Springs," that although highly benefi cial for the relief of other disea-es, when used by persons suffering from original pulmonary aflec -1 tion*, it not only aggravates the disotder; tat *•*#•- time* paodww* diaMtrou* raaulto. WHOLE NUMBER, 2993. VOL. 5. N6.29. I enchanted water saved Ihein not, but hurried them to grave " "Mo-we-en had laid Ins mother's and sister's bodies in the burial ground of his tribe, far up I on the high summit of the Cin-!a-gah, or gray manp, by the pale face known as the Alleghany, i and one after another of his people found a I grave beside tnem, until they wr-re all gone, and M i-we-en stood alone the last of" hi* race." "And since tint day the curse of Hah-pon has been working: still woiking; never ccas ing." "Mo-we-en has seen Ins hunting ground in the hands of his enrmiet. He has he u n a stran gi'r in his own land. Desolate and lone, in summer's heat and winter's cold has lie wan dered, invisible, yet always feeling, over the bores ol his fathers. Famishing with hunger, and faint, lias he sped his arrow nl the passing deer, or the fleet pheasant, but his bow-string has always snapped and his arrow failed its aim. Sirk,and ready to fa!! with weakness,, his pride has givpn way, and he has asked in piteous arceiils for food at the Indian's wigwam, and the white man's door, but they saw him not, and his tremulous voice was taken for the mournful moaning; of the wind. Parched with burning thirst, he has sought to sip the limpid water, but it fl j d from his approach. Weary and restless, has he lain down in the cool shade, bu the murdered YVi-no-na was bef ire him, and he saw the bleeding corse of Hah-pon and he couid not slgep. The white man hears, at ttie full moon, on the bald summit of the Al leghany, shrinks on the stillness of the sum mer's ev, or borne along upon the wintry blast. 'Tis the cry of Mo-we-en.* Oh! great was Mo-we-en's crime, hut sadly has he sufler ! ed. He has longed to be at rest but he could , not die. O/ten lias he, in agony, turned his I wishful .eye, and reached out his impatient hands to the bright star where W i-no-na's spirit | dwells; but 'twas vain, tor the ban was not yet ended."' "Rut the moons have passed, and it is ended now." "Son of the pale face, shun ANGER, HATE, REVENGE. 'Tis Mo-we-en warns thee. His time lias come. Wi-no-na is avenged, and Mo-we-en may beat rest. To night when the full moon walks the central sky, his spirit shall fade from earth, and fly to meet his long lost tribe in the spirit land.—And see! even now has she reached her summit—Hark! I hear a voice.—'Tis— Wi-no-na speaks—she softly calli Mo-we-en! Mo-we-m! —she beckcr.s me to come.— l go.—Son of the pale face— SliUr.—" Sweet strains of music struck upon my ear, as the shadowy form grew fainter, and faded on my sight. I was awake—'twas a dream; the sun was set, and the "pale queen of night" was reigning in her full harvest glory in the zenith.—l had slept lor hours. I still heard soft distant music, and it was some moments before I could realize that I was reclining in I the "summer hnusp," and that the sounds I heard were front the orchestra in the ball-room below. I hastened down the hill, and soon was min gling in the "busy mazes of the dance," but amid the gaiety of the scene, I W3s unable to divest myself of the impression, which my slringe dream had made upon me, or to forget the admonition of my mysterious visitor—"Son ol the pile face, harbor not ANGER, HATRED, nor REVENGE." • Many of the settlers of the AHeehany, in the vicinity of "Bal'l Hill," tell of shriek; that re heard on dear, win.lv mehts, from the vicinity of an ani l cut Indian hirint gionml. These .trance sounds produced no doubt liy 'tie action of the ele ments, ate by them attributed to supernatural causes. ORIGINAL ANECDOTE op BURNS.—As Lord Crawford and Lord Bovd were one riav walk ing over the lands in Ayrshire, I hey saw Bu-ns ploughing in a field hard by, Lord Crawford said to Lord Boyd, "Do you see that rough-look ing tell iw across there with the plow? I'll lay you a wager you cannot say anything to him that he will not make rhyme of.' 'Done,' said the other; and immediately go ing up to the (ledge, Lord Boyd cried out —'flaugh!' Burns stopped at once, leaned a gainst the plow, and surveying his assailant Iruin head to foot, he quietly answered— "lt's not Lord Ci aw ford, but Lord Boyd, Of grace and manners he is void— Just like a bull among the rye, Ciies "baugh!' at folks a< he goes by."" The wager was of course won. KNOWLEDGE.— Young man improve your idla moments—don't sit idle and wishing you had something to do. Take a book and read, that your muid may he improved. You do society a great wrong to grow up in ignoiance. a reproach to yourself, and a discredit to your country. Come— take a book this instant—thee/fort may lie irksome at first, but you will find pleasure, profit and honor in it, in the long run. Then begin like a man now, now, NOW. DO not pro crastinate in a matter really vi'al. A pleasant, cheer'ul wile is a rainbow set in the sky, when her husband's mind is tossed wit storm 3 and tempests. Nothing is nobler than the aristocracy toted .by God ; few fhinga ar# poorer tbko to tal up by man.