From those dark eyes that rolled so fair Gone was the light of life, No motion in those graceful limbs, Save the last dying strife— “She’s gone,” he cried, “the fairest flower That ere on Bantam bloom’d, How all the hopes of joy, of life, Are in that form entombed— “And shall I live a blasted oak No ivy round me twin’d, I look around this lone, lone world And see no kindred mind— “What is then left to love or hate, My foemen all are dead; What binds me now to this dull life The dearest tie has fled? “I did not think when life was young That this would be its close, But on the glorious battle field Surrounded by my foes. “Shade of my Sire! thou once did hope In all a parent’s pride, That o’er each foeman of my race I’d pour red battle tide. “Father, there’s not one foe to the But’s sleeping in his blood, From Housatonic’s willowy stream To Bantam’s lazy flood. “Shade of my Sire! forgive thy son. I leave this tiresome world, No death song o’er my cold corpse sung, No death cloud round me furl’d “In that far land beyond the hill Where the great Spirit dwells, Where sorrow’s stream can never flow, But joy forever swells, “I come to seek thy long loved shade, Ompoia dear,” he cried, Then from the rock’s high top he sprung, And sunk beneath the tide— The following article by Miss Sarah Pierce was called forth by the excessive intemperance of those times. This Temperance Society had been organized in Litchfield in 1789, and is said to be first of its kind in the world. Ecclesiasticus. 19–1 He that contemneth small things shall fall by little and little. SIR.