AN INDIAN LEGEND.

[In one of the largest of our inland seas is a beautiful island, far remote from the mainland, - rich in its mineral treasures. There is a story clinging to it, which gives to its wild, picturesque beauty a sad interest. A young chieftain with his bride was borne there one early springtime, to guard the property during the summer. They were accompanied by their trusty dog only, and were to be taken away in the early autumn; but were forgotten, until too late to reach them.]

FAR to the northward, where the earliest rays

Of summer's sun from sylvan waters peep;

Where broad-winged gulls brood o'er the silent waste,

And seem, in wild, weird notes, a watch to keep

O'er a lone isle; where in wild grandeur rise

The stately pines toward a crystal sky,

And midst whose craggy heights the eagle bold,

With soaring wing, seeks its wild eyrie on high, -

The White Man owned the spot, and all the wealth

Beneath the soil, in glittering, precious ore;

And few the sail that spread their outstretched wings,

Or turned their prow unto this lonely shore.

But when one summer's sun of long ago

Had robed the trees in freshest garb of green,

And wild-flowers sent their perfume o'er the isle,

And sky and earth glowed with a rosy sheen,

They reared a bark-roofed lodge, and hither brought

A dusky warrior and his dark-eyed bride;

And, save their faithful dog, they were alone

To guard the treasures of the island wide.

Suns rose and set, the days flew swiftly by;

While Nosha, singing, wove her baskets frail

From withy willows, through whose branches stole,

In playful melody, the evening gale;

And from the forest's stores the young chief bore

His arrows' gain, and laid at Nosha's feet;

Nor lingered e'er the trusty dog to bear

His well-earned trophies to her grassy seat.

Then waned the golden months, when softly stole

A gleam of glory on the forest dim;

And on the ear the cricket's warning song

Came in low cadence, as a parting hymn;

And Nosha gathered of the leaves of green,

And softly fell her warblings on the air,

While deftly-wreathing russet, green, and gold,

From autumn's glory, in her raven hair.

But with each setting sun the lustre waned,

And faded with the sunshine of the day,

Until the forest's crown, reflected, gave

The leaden dulness of the clouds of gray.

The autumn winds in blasts more chilling came,

And stirred the branches of the beeches tall:

A gentle flutter, as of far-off wings, -

Naught but the leaflets rustling in their fall.

Oft o'er the watery waste the red-man turned,

With wistful gaze, his patient, watchful eye,

And sought each morn and slowly passing day

In vain the promised vessel to descry.

But when the earth grew white with winter snows,

And crystal chains were circling all the shore,

He clasped his dark-browed bride, and bade her trust

In heart the white man's promise nevermore.

Slant shone the sun, and shorter day by day

The genial warmth, and blessing of the light,

And o'er them early fell in deepening gloom

The cheerless darkness of the winter night.

The gathering snow almost concealed the roof

That gave them shelter from the angry blast;

Yet from the blazing pine, and love-lit eyes,

Something of hope around its brightness cast.

Ere yet the winter's moons had waxed and waned

Their early half, grim want stood at the door:

Their meal was spent; strong hands grew trembling, weak;

The arrow failed to bring its forest store.

And sickness came: upon his low rude bed

The red-man laid him down in dark despair;

While Nosha softly sang her olden songs,

And twined her fingers 'mid his dusky hair.

Ere fell the last soft notes of plaintive song

Upon his waiting ear, his life had flown;

And, save her faithful dog crouched at her feet,

The Indian woman faced her grief alone.

The island grave was made 'neath fleecy snow,

And o'er his lifeless breast his blanket spread,

While trophies of his skill beside him lay

With stringless bow and shivered arrow-head.

And ere the bright full moon to crescent waned,

Her trusty dog her greeting failed to meet;

While she in slumber dreamed, he stole away,

And lay in silence at his master's feet.

Once more she gathered up the scattered shreds

Of broken life, on which no sunlight shone,

And went, with breaking heart and trembling steps,

Unto her cheerless, dreary lodge alone.

She wove a net of threads, from canvas drawn,

Saved in the autumn from the barren strand,

And drew from 'neath the crystal sheet of ice

Her daily food, with deft and skilful hand.

And when the gentle springtime came at last,

And violets round their sweetest perfume shed,

She bore from 'neath the snow with loving care,

And laid beneath their bloom, her treasures dead;

Reared o'er the turf a simple vine-wreathed cross,

Wrought in the winter days by her skilled hand.

Her island task was done; she turned away

With slow and feeble step, and sought the strand:

Far o'er the waters blue her eyes discerned,

Reflected 'gainst the sky, a distant sail, -

The fair white wings outspread, and gayly caught

Fresh speed from early morning's lightsome gale.

She raised her starved, thin, bony hand above,

And lifted high her pleading voice in prayer:

"Great Spirit, touch my heart, - help me this wrong

Forgive, that fills my life with dark despair!"

They came with ample stores of food and wine,

And pleasant fruits; she spurned them all away,

And turned her wasted finger toward the spot

Where, starved and cold, her dead love, sleeping, lay.

"O, take me hence - toward the setting sun!

My chieftain's sire still waits with eager eye

Beside my mother lone, whose song I hear;

There, with my broken life, bear me - to die.

"The hunting-grounds grow green with freshened life;

His tribe my warrior husband's coming wait,

And in their councils they must learn this truth:

Through broken vows, Kewaydin met his fate!"

N.