and anxiety had wrinkled his cheeks and brow. At last, he died, - was buried in great

pomp, and is now forgotten. Was it merely to pass through these changing scenes that he was born? Was he not too earnestly engaged in playing with the shadows of life?

6

DREAM OF THE WILDERNESS.

"And I was in the wilderness alone."

Bryant.

I ENTERED the forest just as the glorious summer sun was sinking behind the far-off hills. The evening star rose in the west, and in a little while from the zenith a thousand other bright constellations looked smilingly down upon the earth. Something whispered me that I must spend the long watches of that night in wandering in the wilderness; and I departed with the silence of a shadow, and the speed of an antelope. Strange, and wild, and beautiful, were the scenes I beheld.

The mighty trees, the elm, pine, oak, ash, maple, walnut, and bass-wood tree, which rose on every side, seemed like the columns of

а vast temple, whose mysterious winding aisles, overhung with a multitudinous foliage, were deserted and desolate. No moving objects met my eye, save the fire-flies that darted in all directions, floating and sinking like burning flakes of snow. The gloomy silence was broken only by the chirp of the cricket, and the song of the katy-did. At intervals, too, the clear, soothing voice of the whip-poorwill would echo far and near. The huge masses of foliage above, reminded me of thunder clouds, and like them oppressed my spirit:

"O what a still, bright night! the dropping dew

Woke startling echoes in the sleeping wood." — Noble.

My pathway was not smooth, for I was forced to leap, now over some dead tree, and now over a pile of brush; and again over a mossy hillock, or some gurgling brooklet. Ever and anon I caught a glimpse of the deep blue sky; but in a moment it was lost to view, and I was in total darkness. My vision was wonderful. I saw all surrounding

objects with intense clearness; for to me, the "darkness was as the light of day." At times I paused to listen, startled by some distant sound; the howl of a wolf, the hooting of an owl, or the "trumpet tone" of a flying swan; and as I listened, it would become a murmur, then a whisper, and at last die into a breathless stillness.

At the foot of a gnarled and stunted oak, I saw the manly form of an Indian, wrapped in his scarlet blanket, and extended upon a bearskin. He was fast asleep. On one side of him, and within his reach, lay a bundle of arrows and an unstrung bow; on the other, a knapsack of provisions, and a wolfish-looking dog. But this guardian of the slumbering savage was also fast asleep. As I looked upon this simple picture, the feelings of my heart responded to my thoughts, and I exclaimed, though there was no echo to my words: "Poor lone Indian ! Is that dog thy only friend? Art thou indeed alone in the wide, wide world? Hast thou no wife to sympathize with thee, to love thee, in those hours of

disappointment and trouble, incident to human life? No children to play around thy knees, and make thee happy in some comfortable wigwam, when the blue and scarlet birds make melody in summer, and the wind Euroclydon howls and roars among the forest trees in winter? Hast thou no daughter to protect and nourish, that she may be the bride of some future warrior? No son to listen, with flashing eye, to thy hunting-lessons, to smite his breast with pride and anger, as thou tellest him of the bravery and wrongs of thy ancestors? O that I knew thy history! But I will not disturb thy slumber. May thy dreams be of that land beyond the sunset clouds, where perpetual summer reigns, the land of the Great Spirit, the God of thy fathers."

How vividly do the scenes and incidents of that night rise before my vision! I see them now with the same distinctness that I beheld them then. I stand upon the shore of that dark stream, rolling through the dense woods, where the full blaze of daylight has not penetrated for centuries. I hear that uncouth but