Among the indistinct, but most pleasing recollections of the home of her early childhood, was one of a boy with curly black hair and smiling face, who brought her beautiful flowers, and made for her rabbits out of his handkerchief, and pretty little boats out of nut-shells. She remembered eagerly leaning over the water, watching the tiny bark till it got out of sight, while he held her hand tightly, for fear she should fall into the water. Another scene, of a different character, was imprinted upon her mind, never to be erased--that fearful waking, when the flames crackled and roared around her, and the thick smoke filled the air, when she called upon her father for help, but no father was there; and when her dark-skinned father Towandahoc rushed in to her rescue. When she thought of this night of horror, she instinctively clasped her hands before her eyes, to shut out the fearful sight. These remembrances, however, did not hinder the bright and lively child from being very happy in her new life. And why not? True, here were none of the conveniences or refinements of civilized life, but the little girl grew up without the feeling of their loss, and "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." No mirrors reflected her erect and graceful figure, unspoiled by corset or by long, wearisome hours of confinement at the school-bench; it was lithe and well-proportioned as one of Diana's nymphs; but instead, she arranged her golden tresses, and decked her head with a wreath of wild-flowers, bending over a small mountain lake, which she had appropriated to her own use, and which served her as bathing-house, dressing-room, and looking-glass, all in one. No Turkey or Persian carpets were spread upon the floor, no sofa with rich carving and velvet seat invited her to indolence; but instead, she trod upon soft green moss, sweet grass and flowers, and when weary, reposed upon such seat as Dame Nature provides for her children in her beautiful mansion--the old stump, the mossy bank, the well-washed rock, or the tree prostrated by a storm. No sparkling fountain rose into the air, and fell into its ornamented basin, to please her taste; but the mountain waterfall, of which this is but a feeble imitation, rushed down the rocks in snow-white foam, near her cabin; and she would gaze upon it for hours with delight. To the imaginative mind, to the eye and the ear open to the impressions of beauty, nature has many school-books, unopened in the great city, and amid the busy haunts of men; and her ready scholars may gain many a lesson from the great common mother, undreamt of amid the cares of business, the dreams of ambition, and the bustle of fictitious wants. To Orikama the world was one vast temple: instead of marble pillars with Corinthian capitals, instead of Gothic aisles and dark Cathedrals, her eye rested with admiration upon the nobler, loftier columns of trees that had grown for centuries, crowned with graceful