whose shade the Sagamore of the "South-shore Indians " had reared his wigwam, and drawn around him the boldest chieftains of his tribe. Just across the bay, where the water makes up into that deep bend of the coast, the northern tribes had made their chief rendezvous. For a long time, a bitter enmity had subsisted between the two nations. The feud had been handed down from father to son, aggravated by mutual jealousies and aggressions. If, perchance, a straggling Indian of the northern tribe ventured too near the limits of his southern neighbors, his scalp was sure to be seen swinging upon one of the branches of the trees that hang over this precipice; while the same emblem, gracing some conspicuous promontory on the other coasts, told the reward of like temerity; and if their little barks, skirting the waters of the bay, should chance to meet, a struggle ensued, that was only ended by the dying curse of one party. At length the hatred had become so strong, that each determined upon the extermination of the other. For a long time neither party wished to make the first attack, but contented themselves with keeping a close watch within their own limits, with a keen eye upon every movement of their foe. But one night, when an uncommonly fierce "north-easter" swept across the bay, raising such a sea as almost to forbid the possibility of a boat's living upon the water, and the storm and darkness above, adding still more to the horrors of the scene, the Indians upon the southern shore, having become wearied with their long confinement, and judging that no mortal would venture upon the bay, determined upon a general war-dance. Eagerly they set themselves to the work of preparation, and very soon, amid the dark shadows of the forest, a large fire was kindled, curling its thick folds up around the lofty trees, and spreading its dimmed glare out upon the storm-clad ocean. And now the tall, gaunt warriors, painted more hideously than usual, with the dark scalps of their enemies hanging at their belts, rush into the ring, dancing and leaping in frantic merriment, making the whole welkin ring again with their hoarse echoes, till the very voice of the thunder was drowned in the loud strains of that wild war-song. That night, also, the northern tribes had conceived a plan of a far different nature; for though the blasts of the tempest howled through their forest-homes, tearing up by its roots the mountain oak, and dashing the white foam of the Atlantic upon the rugged shore-though not a star could be seen amid the darkness, whose light should warn them from the rock-girt islands of the bay, these boldhearted chieftains, nothing daunted, determined that very night to steep their tomahawks in the blood of their foes. A chosen company, with the bravest warrior of the clan at their head, was marshalled upon the shore - and ever and anon, as the gleaming lightning shot through the darkness, a demoniacal smile of anticipated revenge could be seen lighting up their swarthy visages. The canoes were launched, and though the first swamped, and its occupants were dashed in pieces upon the rocks, yet the others hesitated not in their purpose, but boldly pushed out upon the waters, and baffled, with almost superhuman strength, the combined fury of the storm and ocean. As they drew near the other shore, the fires of the revellers could be distinguished through the mist, serving as a guide to their landing-place; and after a long, wearisome struggle, they drew up their boats under the shadow of this cliff. - The song had grown louder, as the merriment of the evening proceeded the grey-haired and the youthful chieftains all joining in the exciting dance when, as by magic, with a shriek loud and fearful, the armed warriors rushed into the very midst of the circle, and commenced their bloody work. Although surprised, in a moment the southern revellers had grasped their hatchets, and returned, with tiger-like ferocity, the attack of their invaders. Stung to the quick by the thought of their disgrace, they rushed madly upon their foes, determined to destroy them or die in the struggle. And now the fierce war-song, the startling shout, and mingled curses, echoed far back in the forest depths, while the burning wigwams cast a fitful glare over the whole murderous scene. Warrior after warrior had fallen, locked in each other's dying clutches, glancing defiance with their last expiring energies. The southern chieftains had driven back their foes almost to the verge of the cliff, and they stood there contending for every inch of ground, while their enraged enemies pushed on, dealing destruction at every blow. And now the two sachems of the tribes rushed together, both of them the boldest warriors of their tribes. With the strength of a lion, the southern Sagamore grasped his antagonist, and hurried him to the very brink of the precipice - already his hatchet gleamed in the light, about to fall on the head of his victim, when his arm fell, palsied by a blow from an unseen hand. Heavily he dropped upon the earth, grasping with his left hand the throat of his foeman. Long and fiercely did they grapple with each other, till by some means the northern chieftain released his hands, and tearing his knife from his belt, held it just ready to plunge into the heart of his foe, when the other, with a sudden spring, cleared the edge of the cliff, dragging with him in his embrace his clenched victim. For a moment there was a fearful silence, as the two bodies fell struggling down the deep abyss, striking upon the projecting edges of the rocks, and finally, with a heavy plunge, falling into the sea. It was a signal for the cessation of hostilities. The few northern Indians that remained, wounded and dispirited, embarked in a single canoe, to bear back the sad intelligence. The remnant of the other tribe, leaving behind their smoking cabins and the bodies of the slain, wandered far back into the country, and from that day to this, the cliff has borne the expressive name of Skullhead." TWILIGHT CONFERENCE OF PRAYER. BY MRS. P. P. SOMPAYRAC. THE hour of prayer, Of mortal prayer! Through the ether, pure and dim, How it floats above! In the breezy twilight still; With its breath of love! Rising, rising, ever rising, Like an incense from the heart, Or like troops of happy spirits, Do those prayers from earth depart. The power of prayer, United prayer! How it breaks the gates of brass, Which the bound in sin must pass, With its word of might! |