Pittston Gazette and Susquehanna Anthracite Journal

              THE FITTSTON GAZETTE AID MIIIAIIA iliTffltlCITE Jfll RtAlJ MtfJ V*. « 'si* '. :.1-. u*. ■m. ;ry-.r- + ». V:-: a fPnUij »JgtM; libntat, TfMa, ljit ®rtimfil», Mnmg, ■f8rjtiratoil, tnk IgrintM Mmsts nf Ijrt Cmrafrij, Swffltftftt; JtamnWii, kt. iwim |j»r Sum* PirrSTON, JfENNAs, FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 6, 1852; 1?HOLE NUMBER 78; VOLUME 2.--NUMBER 26. pleasant delusion, and crept tq.the edge of the rock. The soene on which she looked down was one of wild and gloomy beauty. A space comprising more than an acre of the richest green-sward, hedged in by a broken circle of irregular rop£s and ledges, lay beneath her like an immense basin, scooped in the heart of the mountain, overgrowing with vehdiire qnd alive with human beings. Tliough the winds were swaying the mighty fo'resi trees above, pg ii they had been rushes in 4JDatlj, the long thick grass lay motionless., in the bottom of the rocky basin, and tufts of wildroses and wood-honeysuckles blpomed tranquilly in the light of the watch-fires.— The broken rocks which surrounded the camping-ground were rough and irregular; but it was only here and there tliat a sharp angle broke through the thick, rich moss which clung around them, or could be seen through the shower of viney foliage, falling in massive festoons from the clefts and crevices on every side. A dozen watchfires flashed up in a semi-circle, flinging a broad light over ihc whole enclosure, and gleaming redly on (h? wavifig vines, the weepihg birches, aria tne budding hemlocks that intermingled along its broken ramparts. A hundred swarthy forms, half naked and hideously painted, were moving about, and others lay crouching in the grass, apparently terrified by the tempest gathering so blackly abovft them. The Untrodden grass and fresh herbage told thfet this had but recently been made a place of encampment; yet in the enclosure wis one lodge, small and but rudely constructed—a sylvan but whieh might well answer the description at the head of this chapter. How recently it had been constructed, Might be guessed by the green branches yet lreshonthe halfhewn logs. A score of savage hands had been at work upon it the whole day, for the Chief of the Mohawks never rested In the open air with 'he lower members of his tribe, when his haughty wife or his beautiful daughter was of his hunting party. Tahmeroo had wandered but little from the path which led to the encampment.— She had only clambered up to the highest of the chain of rocks which surrounded the enclosure, when she slioiijd have made her way around the base of the narrow opening which gave egress to the forest.— She arose from the edge of the rock where she had been lying; more thari sirfty feet above the encampmeut, and was about to descend to the path she had missed, when a sound, like the roar and tramp of a gteat army, came surging tip from the forest.— The tall trees swayed earthward, flinging their branches and green leaves to the whirlwind as it swept by. Heavy limbs were twisted off, and mighty trunks splintered midway, and mingled the sharp crash of their fall with the hoarse roar of the tempest. The thunder boomed amorig the rocks, peal after peal, and (he quick lightning darted through ,the heavy trees Tike fiery serpents wrangling amid the torn foliage. The very mountain seprped to tremble beneath the maideh's,_,/e,et—she threw herself upon the ledge, arid with her face buried in its moss, lay rrtotiqnjess, but quaking at the heart, as the whirlwind rushed over her. A still more fearful burst of the elernents struck upon the heights—lifted a stout oak from its deep anchorage, and hurled ify to the earth. The splintered trunk fell with a crash, and the topmost boughs bent down the young saplings with a rushing sweep, and fell, like the wings of a great bird of above the prostrate Indian. She sprang upward, with a wild cry, and seizing the stem, of a vine, swung herself madly over the precipice. Fortunately, the descent was rugged, and many a jutting angle afforded a foothold to the daring girl, aa she let herself fearlessly down—now clinging among the leaves of the vine—now grasping . the sharp point of a rock, and dropping from one cleft to another. Twice dia she force herself back, as if she would have sunk into the very rock, and drag thai heavy vines over her, when a fresh thunder-burst rolled by, or a flash of lightning blazed among the leaves; but when they had passed, she again swung herself downward, and finally, dropped unharmed upon the grass back of her father's lodge. The enclosure, waa now perfectly dark ; for the rain had extinguished the wat'eh-nres, and the lightning but occasionally revealed S grouripf dark forms cowering together, aweCf by the violence of the tempest, and rendered courageless by superstitious - v • , • i A twinkling light broke through the. crevioepof the lodge; but Tahmeroo lingered in the rain, for now that the fierceness of the storm was over,'.she began to have a new fear—the dread Qt her mother's stqrn presence. Cautiously, and with timid footsteps, she advanced to the entrance and' lifted the making. She breath, cd freely : for there.wasi no one present save her father, the chief of the Mohawks. He was sitting on the ground, with ills arms folded 011 his knees, and his swarthy forehead buried ip |ijs robe of skins — The heart of the Indian King was sorely troubled, (or he knew that the wing of the Great Spirit wu$ unfolded in its wrath above his peyiple. Tahmeroo crept to thq, extremity of the lodge and' sat down iij. silei.ee upon tne ground.' Sne sftw tliat preparations had been made for her comfort. A pile ojf Ir'esii blackberries and a cake of cpi-n bredil lay on a stool' ncaV- by,, ahd a douoh of bbughs woven rudely together stood in the Corner1', heaped with tjte rifehfrt flip, and overspread with a coVering of martin'sltitis/liHed'abd bordered'With (ine scarlet cloth. A chain of gorgeous worsted, w(oilc t the  scullups orithe border, and heavy tassels fell'upSil tiie grass from the four corners. The sfcvage magnifitienoe of that couoh was well Worthy the daughter, of the Mohhtrk. Another couch, but of less costly furkj arid without ornament, stood at the opposite extremity. Tahmeroo threw one timid look towards it, and then bent her head, satisfied that it waa untenanted, and that her mpther was indeed absent As if suddenly recollecting hefself, she halt started from the ground, and disentangled a string of coral from her damp hair. With her eyes fixed apprehensively on the bowetf head of the .chief, .she thrust it under the fur pillqwg of her couch, antf . stole back, to her former position. She had scracely seated herself when the matting was flung back from the entranoe of the lodge,'and the the Mohawk pre-, sented herself in the opening. The ligh t of a heap of pine knots fell on the woman's face as she enteredbut it failed (o reveal the form of the maiden, where she sat in the shadowy side of the lodge.— The chief .lifted his head and uttered a few wprfla i(i t)ie Indian tongue, but re*, ceived no answer; while his wife gave one look around the lodge, and then  r d back, clasped her hands tightly and groanetj aloud. . Tahmeroo scarcely braathqt fof neyer had sht) seen her mother so' agitated. It was indeed a strange sight  those small, finely cut features, usually sa stern and cold, working with emotion-r—tho palid cheek the high forehead, swolen and knitted at the brows—the trembling mouth —the e£es heavy with anguish, fhia was a sight which Tahmeroo had never before witnessed. She had seen, the dread paleness of anger settle over that face till it, became, hueless as a corpse.—. She had seen stern resolve and savage joy J;endered in those eyes, lilTe venom in the awsof a serpent; but never before had she seen regret or anguisfi stjr those beautiful .but worn arid, stof)y , jiSnearaenJa,-r- There sne stood—trembnng and disorder- her robe soiled, and Jieavy  rain ; her long hair fallipg, in wet , and knotted masses to her waist,—moaning, wringing her hands and bewailing the absence of her child. And this stern, haughty woman—the white i.Jr.diani queen—who ruled the tribe of hpr husband with despotic rigor ; whose Revenge wasi deadly, and whose love was terror. This was Catharine Montour. Itlttt Calf. her breath, and remained motionless, for her poetical fancy was aroused by the singular beauty, and picturesque attitude of the figure. There was a wildness and a gracc in it, which she had nev.er witnessed before. At the first glance, she supposed the stranger to be a wandering Indian girl, belonging to some of ihe tribes that roamed the neighboring forests. Bnt her complexion, though darker than the darkest brunette of our owr. race, wai stil! too light, for any of the savage DBtions, yet seen in the wilder, ess. It was of a clear, rich, brown, and the Mood glowed through the round cheeks like the blush of a ripe peach. Her hair was long, profusely braided, and of a deep black ; not the dull lustreless color, common to the Indians; but with a bloom upon it like that shed by the sunlight on the wing of a flying raven. She appeared to be neither Indian, nor white, but of a mixed race. The spirited and wild grace of the savage, was blended with a delicacy of feature, and nameless elegance, more peculiar to the whites. In her dress, also, might be traced the same union of borbarism and refinement—a string of bright scarlet berries, defining the edge df her clear forehead, and inter, woven with this long braids of her hair, now and then glanced in the sunlight, as she moved her head, like a chain of burning rubies arid jioiiSlied gurnet stones. A robe of gorgeous chintz, where crimson and deep browh Wefe the predominating colors, was confined at the waist, by a narrow belt of Wampum, and terminated a little below the knee, in a double row of heavy fringe, leaving the flrtti sleiider ankles free and uncovered. Her robe fell open at the shoulders; but the swelling outline of the neck, thus exposed, was unbroken, except by a necklace of feherrycolored cornelian, frtitti tthlbli astnall heart of the same blood-ied stone, fell to her bosom. The round fcintf tapering beauty of her arms was fully revealed and unencumbered, by a single ornament. Her mocaftins were of dressed deerskin, fringed and wrought with tiny beads ; but interwoven, was a vine of silken buds, and loaves done in such needlework, as was in those days, only taught to the rricist refined and highly educated claSs of whites. Mary had nevef* seen any thing so exquisi'.e. ly beautiful in ils workmanship, ns that embroidery, or so picturesque ohd jioclicul as the whole appearance of the stranger. almost powerless, and in extreme suffering! In a little more than an hour, Bhe saw the same solitary rower crossing the river, but With more deliberate motion.— She watched him while he moored the canoe in the little cove, and then she caught anotlx r glimpse of him as he turned a corner of her dwelling, and mingled with the group of young persons who were drinkins tea on the green sward in front. It was a weary hour to the deformed girl, before the party broke up, and were transported to the opposite shore; where farm wagons stood ready to convey them to Wilkesbarre. The sun was almost down, and the Island quiet again, when she saw two persons, a male and a female, coming from the house to the cove. She nrnse, and folding her shawl about her, prepared to descend to the river. The ledge, on which she had spent the afternoon, towered back from the precipice in a mass of broken rocks, crowned by a thick growth of stunted pines and hemlocks.— The side along which the footpath wound, full with an abrupt descent, to a deep ravine which opened to the river—covered with loose soil, interspersed with fragments of rocks, and cut up into hollows, where the mountain stream had washed away the soil. The whole was covered with aluxuriant undergrowth, and a few large, white pines had anchored themselves in the hollows. Mary had walked half way down the ledge, when she stopped abruptly in the path ; for sitting on the moss beneath one of these pines was the strange girl, who had so excited her wonder. Mary's slow step had not disturbed her, and unconscious of a witness, she was unbraiding the string of berries from her hair, and supplying their place with a rope of twisted coral. The strings of scarlet riband with which she knotted it on her temple, were bright, arid had evident'y never been tied before: Mary's heart beat quickly, and she hurried forward as if dome wild aniuial had sprung up in her path. She felt dh tiheotitrotable repulsion to that wild und beautiful girl, which she neither understood nor tried to account for. When she reached the shore, the canoe, with Edward cilft-k, ttnd Her sister seated in it, was making leisurely towards the mouth of the ravine, and she sat down on the shadowy side of the oak, to await their coming.— Their approach was so Motionless, that she did not know thai they had reached the shore till the voicc of fcdward Clark apprised her of it., lie was speaking earnestly to her sister, and there was an agitation and deep tenderness in his voice—a breaking forth of the heart's best feelings, which she had never witnessed in him before.moorerf « light canoe hitherto concealed by, the dark foliage. Placing herself in the bottom, «he gave two or three vigorous strokes with the paddle, and shot Itt'e a bird up the stream. As Tahmeroo proceeded np the river, the scenery, till then half pastrol, half sublime, became more gloomy and Ravage in Sits aspect.(, Hugp roclu .hot up against the sky in picturesque'grarideur; the foliage which clothed them grew dusky in the waning light, and fell back to the ravines in dark, heavy shadows. A gloom hung about the towering precipices, and the thick masses of vegetation, liDe funeral drapery swathing the pillar* and wilii arches of a monastic ruin. It was the darkness.of a gathering tempest. There was something aublime, and in the gradual and silent mastering of the elements. Tahmeroo was of a savage race, and she loved the wild and fierce in nature with the enthusiasm of a daring spirit; but the red blood that kindled her heart to more than feminine courage;was mingled with that of a gentle and civilised class. She was but half an Indian—all a woman—and her high spirit cowered beneath the sombrti magnificence of the hoar and the scene. Though eager to reach her destination, her arm relaxed in vigor, while she looked'anxioasly about, [now on the frowning banis, and then ujD into" the  sky. clouds surging up 'from the west like troops of frightened birds with their wings in motion, aroused her to fresh exertion.— She'bentto her tasit with an energy that sent the perspiration like rain drops to her forehead.— The'paddles glanced rapidlyjn and the water, and the canoe sped on and on, with the velocity",of a sparrow-hawk in "the air. At length it curved round with a bold sweep, and shot into thejtupendous gap through \ which}, the Lackawanna empties its coal-stained tribute into the,bosom of the Susquehanna. It was .like the meeting of the sinful and the good in the valley of death—the commingling* of those in the gatHerlng IWlllgHt—the one so dark'and tufbid, and the other so brigh^and.beautiful. Tarneroo rested for a moment as she.entered the rocky jaws of the mountain; and as her fVail bark rocked to the current'of wind w hich swept down the gorge, she looked around with a*strong~feeling of fear. A mountain,Jclefl in twain to the foundation, towered on either hand to thejsky, bald, bleai and shrubless. Through the rent, down more than a hundred feet from the summit, crept the deep still river stealthily and slow, lite a huge dari serpent winding himself around the bulwark of a strong-hold. Not a tuft of grass or a blossoming shrub was there to reveal the outline of the mur/ty water from the majestic ramparts through which All waa wild, sterile and gloomy. As the Indian girl looked. upward, the clouds swept back for a moment, and the last rays of sunset fell with'a glaring light on the bold summit, of the mountain, rendering by contrast, the depths of the chasm more dreary in its intense shadow. Tahmeroo had seen the gap open before but never at that hour, or with that gloomy depth of shnilow. With a sensation of awe at her heart, she.lpcld her breath and scarcely dared to dip her pailtlle in the wat8r_mas she glided through the massive portals which gave them an outlet. But when the gap she proceeded up the with firmer hand and sterner courage. The threatened storm had seemingly passsed over, and a few stars trembled in the depths of the sky, when she moored her canoe in a little inlet, washed up into the mouth of a narrow ravine, which opened on the river's brink. Tuhmerootore away the dry brambles and brushwood which choked up the entrance( of the defile, and made her way through a searcel/ defined footpath to the bosom of the hills. A less vigorous form would have fainted beneath the toil of that ttohtafn pass ; but the young Indian scarcely thought of fatigue ; for the threatened storm had again gathered in the sky and a dull moaning sound came up from the depths of the forest, like the hollow beat of a far off ocejui, while, now and then, the f«nt-A'p thtfmler mattered and rumbled among the black clouds, floating like funeral banners above her. The signs of the storm gathered mofe densely ab6ut the mountains, and the maiden became terrified and bewildered. Though a wild rover of the forest, she had been gently nurtured, and, for the first time in her life, was alone among the hills after night-fall. There is something terrible in fee tout of .thunder, even to those who understand the phifosphy of the elements. It sounds upon the heart like the blast of a trumpet, awakening it to a sense of its own insignificance, and of the mighty power of a Creator! Few are the nerves that have not trembled, or the hearts that have not quaked, when the artillery of Heaven was sounding among the clouds', and the arrows of the Ay were footing earthward1, feathered and fired w'ith, thji principles ofdeStViJc8n.' Daring and wicked must sjDi-' rit be which refuses to'yieW ills' belief to God, when his powef is made audible in tVe voice of jhip  pest f , imaginative and superstitious Indian girl', there was a terrific mystery in the hoarse rolling sound, entombed, as .it were, in the depths of the sky.. It was. in her belief, the dread voice of, Jehovah in his wrath—a denunciation fulminated from the portals of Heaven on the guilty and deceitful ofea.th. Her heart quailed within her, and, as the first loud peal broke upon her ear, she startled back, clasped her hand over her aching eyes, and then sprang onward in the dark path, with the leap ofah,unted deer. Now she was lost in the darkness of'a ravine, and then, a flush of lightning revealed her leaping from one cliff to another—clambering up tho face of a precipice, or swinging herself over the narrow charms by the saplings whieh the fitful flashes revealed to her. 4,t length she stood on a sharp ledge of rocks, pantittjf ttnd In despeir ; ffer she had lost the path Which led to the Mohawk encampment. After one wild, hopeless look upon the sky, she sunk to theground, and burying her her hands, multcred„ih a trembling and husky voice, " Tahmeroo has been bad. She has acted a lie. The Great Spirit is very angry. Why should she strive to shut oiil his voice 1 Tahmeroo can1 die." , PRINTED AND PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY O. m. Rlclinrt A O. s. Plillllp«» MARY DERWENT. Ofitt side o/ Man. Street, tecmUSUrv of the "'Long Store" qf Winter Wood. A TAtB OF THE EARLY SETTLERS Tka *'C»AiaTTB" i« published cTcry Friday, at Two . Dollars per annum. Two Dollars and Fipty D Cents will be charged if not paid within the year. Na paper will be discontinued until all arrearages Advertisements are inserted conspicuously at One DolMR per squire of fourteen lines for 4 three insertions; ami Twenty-fivk . _ ditional for every subsequent "D»«*"!"• * * «ral deduction to those who advertise for six ob° Wort—\vr have''connected with our establishment a well selected assortmentofJosTYPF., which will enable us to execute, in the neate, style, every variety of printing. J ™ „ printers ourselves, we can afford to do work on as reasonable terms a. any other office in the county All letters and communications addressed to the Gazette must be post paid, and endorsed by a responsible name, to receive attention.^^^^ BY MRS. ANN 8. STEPHENS. [CONTINUED ] " I have just come in time to keep you at home, for once," said the youth, approaching the timid girl, after having gaily shaken hands with her sister. " 1 ain sure we shall persuade you—" He was interrupted by a call from Jane, who had run off to the other side of the cove ; probably with tha hopes of being speedily followed by her visitor. " Come here, Edward, do, and break me some of this sweet-briar; it scratches my fingers so." Clark dropped Mary's hand, and went to obey this capribidlls summons. " Don't try to persuade Mary to stay," said Jane, as she took a quantity of the sweet-briar from the hands of her companion. " She is as restless when we have company as the mocking-bird you gave us; besides," she added, with a little hesitation, " Walter Butler, will be here and she don't like him." Business Cards, etc. JAMES L. SELFBIOGE 8 CO FISH, PRODUCE, AND GENERAL. 41 It Were strange If she did," Replied tha youth; and 8 frotVn passed over his fine forehead but tell me, Jane; how it happened that you invited hlttl; C¥heH Jrou know that I dislikb hlrti almost as mtleh as she does." COMMISSION MERCHANTS, No. 67 North Wharves, .".W "" ""PHILADELPHIA. €#HBTASTLY O* BAKP A* AIIO*T**»T Or DRIED * PICKLED FISH, kcM »!*: Blue Flsb, flmd, P"rkt Should#™, Herring, '-"A , . Cheese, k*. rhllMli lphlii, May 30, 1831—0m«  Jane looked confused, and like most people, when they intend to persist in a wrong, began to get into a passion. " I am sure I thought I had the right, to ask any one I pleased," she said, petu lently. HOLUNGHE AD, WHITB 8 Oo. AND DEALERS 1M "Yes, but one might expect, that it yould scarcely please you, to encourage i man, who has so shamefully insulted rour sister. My blood boils when t think Dt the wretch ! Poor Mary, I had hoped ;o have seen her enjoy herself to-day ; but low she must wander off alone as usual.— [ hate a great mind to go with her." And turning swiftly away ffom the angry beau- Iv, he went to Mary, spoke a few words, and they stepped into his canoe together. But, he had scarcely pushed it from the shore when, Jane ran forward and leaped in after them. " If you go, so will 1!" she said, angrily seating herself in the bottom of the canoe. Murv was amazed and perplexed. 8he looked into the stern, displeased face of the young man, and then at the sullen brow of her sister. Wines and Liquors, No 77 North Water street, and 38 North Wharves, Philadelphia. JA«. M. holungshead, peter sides. When Tahmeroo heard her name mentioned with the lamentations of her mother,' she started forward with tremulous aqd broken earnestness, " Mother, oh, mother, I am here V' A burst of gladness broke from the lips of Catharine. She caught her daughter to her heart and kissed her wildly again and' again. , . " Thank God, oh, thank my God, I am not quite alone !" she exclaimed;  started in the eyes that,had not known them for twenty surr.friers. Those wqrds of Christian thankfulness—those tears maternal love,—were strange sounds ,for. thq lodge pf n ppvage chief; but stranger far were tney to the lip and eye of that stern,' hare! woman. WM. C. WIIITI. Feb. 7, 1851 PEROT, HOFFMAN A Co., EOR WARDING * COMMISION MERCHANTS No. 41, North Wharves, and 83 North, Water Street, below Race St. PHILADELPHIA fee'feMfneWi" Wykotf fc Co., Pittstori, Fisher 8 Bogardus, Wilkesbnrre. Franklin Platt 8 Co., Philadelphia Jan. 31, 1851.—ly* For more than a minute the wild girl retained the position, Which hei last bounding strp hid left her in. There was something statue-like in the tension of those rounded and slender limbs, as she stood on the shelf of rock, bending eagerly over the edge, with her weight thrown on one foot and the other strained back, as if preparing for a spring. There was the grace; but not the chilliness of marble, for they were full of warm, healthy life. There was spirit and fire in their very repose, ns after an eager glance Up and down the river, she settled back, and with her arms folded, remained for a moment in an attitude of dejection and disappointment. A mferry Jaugh, which came ringing ovfer the watefs', from the direction of the island, drew her atteuiion to (he group of revelers, glancing in tind out of the shrubbery Which surrounded mother Derwent's dwelling. Flinging back her hair with a gesture of fiery impatierrre, s"he sprang upward, and dragged down the oranch of a young tree, to which she grasped for support, while throwing herself still more boldly over the very edge of the cliff. Mary almost screamed with affright. Out there was something grand in the daring of the girl, which aroused her admiration; rVcn moic than her fear. She knew (h8t the breaking of that slender branch, wotfld precipitate her down a sheer descent of more than one hundred feet. But she felt as if the very sound of her voice would sttfrll'e her into eternity. Motionless with dread, slie fi.Ced her eyes, like a fascinated bird, on th8 strange being thus lioverftig 6ver death, so fearlesslv, and so beautiful. All at once those bright, dark eyes kindled, one arm was flung eagerly outward—her red lips par. ted, ana a gush of music, like the song of a mocking-bird, but clearer and richory btfrst from them. J«linson, Wells 4€o , MANUFACTURERS AMD WHOLESALE DEALERS IN " What does this mean t" she inquired, gently, " what is the matter, Jane?" Jane began to sob, b(u fare no answer, and they ro*eti tcfass the ritef- In silence; They landed at the foot of the broken precipice, that hung over the river like a ruined batilement. Clark assisted Mrtfy to the shore, and was about to acaempany her up the foot-path, which tttliind o+er tile  but Jane, who had angrily feftised h;s help to leave-the boat, began to fear that *'jD had carried her ah'gtir ttfo far; arid titff Ay called him back to her. There was a few angry words from the young man—exposttflatftrfi' KM tfears from the maiden, all of which, a bend in {tie pith jjrttenfed Wrtry observing; ancf then, Clark went up the nill—tofa (he solitary girl not to wander far—to be careful and not sit on the damp ground—and that he would come for her by sun down ; the young folks would have left the island by that time, he said. They #ere 411 going down tp, Wilkftsoarre, to have a dance, fn (he old school-house.— He and Jane, were going, but they would wait and tlrtte Wo'mte Edward was almost out ot breath, as he saldf. all this, and he appeared anxious to go back to the canoe. But Mary, had not expected him to join her lonely wanderings, and his solicitude about her safety, was so considerate and kind, [t went to her heart like a breath of summer air. She turned up the mountain-path, lonely and companionless; but very happy; Her eyes were full 6f pleasant tears, and her heart was lifcte 4! nodei unfolding to the sunshine.— ThVe te' a in complying with the slightest request, from those we love; and Mary, confined her ramble to the precipice and the shore, nferely because, Edward Clark, had! asked hfef rtbt to'wander far.-*- She saw him land on the island #1(1* Iter sister, while half sitting, half reclining on a crag of the broken rock, at whose foot she had landed. Then, site rtrw the boat sent again, and again, to the oppbsfte shorfc, returning each time, laden with1 her formir campanions. By degrees she became very sad. She feh thte melancholy, artti loneliness of her position ; she would haVe given worlds, had she possessed them, to nave mingled in equality with the gay beings, flitting through the trees, and wandering oVer the green sward of her island home. The rinsing laugh, and the music of cheerful words, came swelling on the wind, to her isolated seat. Happiness and sunshine were all around her; budding moss, bird-songs and flowers; but her heart was weighed down with a sense of its utter loneliness. Then she would think of Edward Clark, and of his late kind woids, and wonder why they had oea«ed to make her happy. In dwelling on them, she became quiet and contented, 4hd dropped asleep under the shadow of a drooping birch, which grew in a cleft in the rock on which she lay. Her sleep was very sweet, and refreshing. A mockingbird Itad' (fetched himself in' the tree; above her,' and httfrrtfelody Abated' in' !rtr dreains. They were of at fn/ off world;- Edward Clark tfas there, and it Wa» her nbtne; but her form was otianfeed and *he had become beautiful—beautiful as Her1 sister Jaiie.— She was aroused by the rustling pf, brartohes over her head ; there was a bounding step, as of a deer in flight, and then a young girl sprang out upon a point of rock which shot over the platform on which she lay, and bending over the edge, gazed eagerly down upon the river. Mary hetd " No, Jane," he said, in a resolute but slightly tremulous voice, " you must now choose between that man and me; there can be nothing of rivalry between us ; I do heartily despise him ! I am not jealous—1 could not be of a creature so unworthy ; but it grieves me to feel that you can place him for a moment on a level with yourself. If you persist in this de. grading coquetry, you are unworthy of the pure and faithful love which I have given you—forgive me, Jane, if I speak harshly —don't cry, it grieves me to wound your feelings, but—»" he was interrupted by a sound as of some one falling heavily to the ground. He leaped from the canoe, and there, by the trunk of an oak, lay Mary Derwent helpless and insensible. Without a word of. question as tp her strange absenoe, Cathqruie;flrew her child to the couch, and, seeing the bread and the berries yet untasted, she forced her. to efit while she wrung (the moisture from her hair and took away (he damp robe. She smoothed the pillows of dark fur, afld drawing, the jfc^vef{et;of martin skins over the form' of her child, sat beside her till she dropped into a gentle slumber. Then she heaped fresh knots on the burnipg #ne, and changed Jjer own saturated raiment. The drowsy chief threw himse|f upon the unoccupied heap of furs, and.. Catharine was left alone with her thoughts. S(ie stole again to the couch of her daughter, and a swarm of good and tender feelings, long unknown to that, hard heart, arose at the thoughts of her child's late ppril and of her present safety, She did not.af tffti her wont, force back tbesc,gentle, feelings to their source, but permitted to flow over the arid heprt, like dews on a bed of withered  of home and fcindred,' and of her innocent childhood, thronged upon her mind. Remembrances" that had bjaen locked in ,the secret cells of her heart for years, i)qw stole forward, with a softening influence,' till the present was lost in the paptji and she, the Indian's wife, sat in her husband's wigwam, lost in mournful tl\pughts pf a hpmp ampng her own peoplq, anqqf hopes whose uprooting had . he* to the wilderness, seared in bep/t, pnd almost beyond feeUogs ,ot tiei  race. Long and sad were the vigils of that stern watcher ; yet they had a gpbd 1 influence on her heart. There was tenderness and regret—nay, almost repentanc—in her as she gazed on the soil slumbers of he;, youthful child—the only being on earth whom she bad not ceased to love. More than once she pressed her lips fondly to the forehead of the sleeper, as if to herself of her dear presence after the frightful dangers of the storm. Sho remained till after midnight pondering upon past events, with the clin- King tenacity of one, who seldom allowed herself to dwejl on,aught that could soften a shade jiaughty oharacter; and at' length she Mips about tp throw herself by the side of her daughter, riiore from the workings of unqtiiqt thoughts, than from a desire for rest, But the attempt disturbed tHe slubbering*glrlr She turned restlessly on her couch.,afad pushed away the covering, ns if oppressed by its warihtW.— observed that the cheek, which lay buried in the dark fur of the pillow, \yd's (lushed and. hqated. She attempted tp draw the pillow away, when h-ir fihgers becamo entangled in the string of coral' concea|pC! beneath it. Had a serpent coiled around her hand, it oould not have produced a more startling effect. She shook it off, and drew hastily back, as if spine? thing loathsome had cl unit to her. . Then, she snatched up the ofltfiinftrit/went" to the pile of smouldering'embers, stirred them to a flame, and examined it minutely by the light. Her face settled to its habitual expression of iron resolution as she arose from her stooping posture. Her lips were firmly closed, and her forehead becamA calm and oold, yet there was more of doubtand sorrow than of anger in her fbroed composure. She returned to the coueh BOOf Sf , . MO® yS8utea, No. 35 Oourtiandt Street, (First door above the Merchant*' Hotel) /AMF.S W. JOUNSON, I . t *. 4BKMSTT, J*. H. K. WF.LLS, \ X. YORK, t c. i. riERMN. January 21, 1851. '/• JOHN GILBERT A CO. Wholesale Druggists, No 177 North Third Street, A few doors above Vine Street, Ewt side, PHILADELPHIA. OnN QILBEaT. «ILA« B. WETMi consTinri.r on biwd, a assortment or Drug", Medicines, Chemicals, Fullers' and Dyer»' Articles, Paints, Oils,, Window Glass, and Painters' Articles* Apothecaries' Glassware, Patent Medicines, (f-e , Cf%i August 30, 1850.—ty. "She has wandered too far, and exhausted herself," said the agitated young man, as he bore her to the canoe. "Sit down, Jane, and take her head in your lap—your grandmother will know wnat to do for her." COOPER 8 VANZ^NDT, 1H SORTERS AND DEALKtfS f foreign Wines and Liquors, No. 21 New Street, New York. e. auDOLPnua cooper, chas. a. taniamdt, jb. August 30, 1850.—ly. They were half way across the river, when Mary began to recover animation.— Edward laid down his oar, and taking her hand in his, was about to speak ; but she drew it away with a faint shudder, and burying her fa6$ in her sister's bosom, remained still and silent as before. The unfortunate girl had begun to comprehend the workings of h'ef own heart. It was a fearful knowledge to her. H. A. GOULD 8 OO. WHOLESALE CLOTHIERS, No. 221 Washington Street, Comer of Barclay Straet, h. A. COULD, I 'j(EW V^RIt a. a. qould. S • We invite the attention of Cotfrrfry M*'- chants anil' other* Vo yur ftiU and desirable Stock of Ready-made Clothing, whi'ctr we offer at very low rates. Merchants visiting the city fSr the purpose of purchasing Goods in our line, would do well to give us u. call before purchasing elsewhere. _ September 6, 1850.—tf.  cnArram in. " It was a toilge of ample slie,' , ■_ ■ But strange of structure and device; Vf such material* as nrouml , ha workman'* hand had readiest, f«and. Lopped off. boughs. their, hour trunks bared, Ami lD7 ll,V tyut'liel rudely squared, To give Uiu walla tfieir desUwd height, The sturdy oak ami t}-' i unite; While moaa and clay ami leaves combined To fence each crevico from the wind. * The lighter plmi trees oier head. And withered grass and rushes dry, Supplied a fitted canopy." Tahmeroo, tlve Indian girl", was still sitting under the pine, as Mary Derwent had' left her.— While the coral was but half twisted in her hair, she had stopped in her graceful tasXr, and, sinking gently buck to the bant of moss which formed her seat, reclining on her elbow, with her long trusses half unbraided, and floating in wavy masses over her person. She was yielding to the repose of a soft and dreamy revery, new, and very sweet to her wild, young heat, when the sound of voices and the dash of an oar aroused her. She started to her feet and listened. The Are flashed back to those large dark eyes, but late so pleasant and soft in their expression, and a rich crimson rushed to her cheek. The voices ceased for a moment} then were renewed, and the rapid strokes ol the paddle became still more audible. Tahmeroo sprang forward and rait tfyD to a point of the hill which commanded a view of the river. The little canoe, with its band of red paint, was making from the shore,' and m it Waif June Dcrweiit, Witt tiie lleail at thfe deformed girl'resting in hcrlap: The back'Of the oarsman Wu» tdwartls the short ; aHd1 the eyes, ttiii beautiftil eyes" of Derwent were fixed on him, With an expression Which Tahmeroo's heart, new and unlearned as it was, taught' her to  A sensation of surprise, anger and fear, thrilled through the heart of the young Indian, and then a smile, vivid and bright as as a burst of sunshins after a tempest, broke over her face. Mary started forward in amazement.— She could not convince herself that it was not the notes of a real bird. She turned her head and peered ambn'g the leaves of the birch1, Where the songster, which lulled her to sleep, had nestled itself; but it had floWn on the approach of the stranger.— Before she could lift her eyes to the cliff agafn, a low shrill whistle dame sharply up from the direction of the Island. She caught otte gldhce of die Kindling cheeks,' and flashing eyes, of the strange girl, as she leaped back from the cliff—a flash of sunlight on her long hair, as she darted into a thicket of wild cherry-trees—and then there was no sign ofher remaining, save the rustling of the young trees as the bent limb swayed back to its fellows. Again the notes, as of a wild, eager bird, arose from a hollow bark, on the side of the mountain; and a fter a moment, that shrill whistle wos repeated from the water, and Mary distinctly heard the dipping of an oar. She crept to the edge of the rock, which had formed her concealment, and looked down upon the river. A canoe, rowed' by a single oarsman, mas making its way, swiftly, from tHe Island. She could not distinguish the face of the Ofccupant; but there was a band of fed jiaint around tho edge of the canoe, and she remembered that'Edward Clark'tf alone was Sb ofnambnted.- It was the iamb , that had brought' her from the Island. Dig,the signal come from him—from Edward Clark T What had he in common with the wild, strange girl, who had broken, upqp her sol-, itude? A thrill of pain, such as she had never dreamed of before, shot through her heart, as she asked these questions. She would have marked the landing of the canoe, but her strength hadsuddeuly left her, aDd she sunk back to a fragment of stoftf, D. *L. PECKHANW Ctfice on Main Street, Jlyili Park, Pa. ATTORNEY AT LAW inly 11, 1«51 web. Fashionable barber and hair.drebser, Basement Story of the Long Store, ritteton, July 4,1851.  t AWNS can be bought 15 to 20 pel1 certt less XV at the Empire Store than was ever known in Northern Penna. [may9J J. A ff. Port ftanchard Hotel. SAMUEL HODGDON would respectfully returns his thanks to the public for the patronage heretofore bestowed upon his establishment, and hopes by strict attention to the accommodation of all, to merit a continuance of the same. His Bar will always be furnished with the choicest Liquors, and his Table abundantly supplied with all the luxuries of the season. The best of dare will be given to horses, and every accommodation afforded Which can contribute to' the comfort Of travellers. Pert Blanchard, Ja8. 17, 1851—ly. Blacksmiths—Attention fl AND before you think of purchasing tools at' any other pf8ce, call at the Iron and Hard- Wart Store of Crawford, where you will find Amer-' ifcan'Caat Steel Anvils, Vises, Bellows, Slsdgetf, ahd ill short' article you need, at mClfch'lo*er' prices than elsewhere. Modesty forbids our puffing buf o«r word for it, that you are sure to boy if low prices and accomodating terms are any inducement. Do not fail to call. Aug. 3, 1850.—tf. L. W. CRAWFORD. While she spoke, there was a hush iri the sky, and the sound of many hoarse, gutteral voices aro$e foot of the ledge. The torrified Indian lifted,her head, and a wild, doubtful joy gleamed over her face as the lightning revealed it, with the dartfjv ujthraitled ttair floating back from the pallid tqmples, the .lips, parted, and the eyes charged witlj ,terroiJ, doubt, and eager joy. She listened intently, lor a moment, and then sank cautiously to the ground, as one who fears to break a The oarsman bad turned his head, and his facf was revealed. Taimeroo breathed 4eep)y and turned away. It seemed at if an arruw had been drawn Irom her heart by the sight of that face.— She hurried down the hill toward a clump of black alders that overhung the river's brink, aad un- Dr. O. UNDERWOOD, Office in the Building of L. W. Crawford a Hard■ Wart Stare, Pitlston, Pa. Auj. 2, 1850, ■J'