What for? I like that! Well, I'll tell you what for. This tree makes my dwelling unhealthy; it stands too near the house: prevents the moisture from exhaling, and renders us liable to fever-and-ague."--"Who told you that?"--"Dr. S---."--"Have you any other reason for wishing to cut it down?"--"Yes, I am getting old; the woods are a great way off, and this tree is of some value to me to burn." He was soon convinced, however, that the story about the fever-and-ague was a mere fiction, for there never had been a case of that disease in the neighborhood; and then was asked what the tree was worth for firewood. "Why, when it is down, about ten dollars." "Suppose I make you a present of that amount, will you let it stand?"--"Yes."--"You are sure of that?"--"Positive."--"Then give me a bond to that effect." I drew it up; it was witnessed by his daughter; the money was paid, and we left the place with an assurance from the young girl, who looked as smiling and beautiful as Hebe, that the tree should stand as long as she lived. We returned to the road, and pursued our ride. These circumstances made a strong impression upon my mind, and furnished me with materials for the song I herewith send you.--Extract from a Letter to Henry Russell, the Vocalist, dated New York, February 1, 1837. The Chieftain's Daughter (page 78.) "Every part of the brief but glorious life of Pocahontas is calculated to produce a thrill of admiration, and to reflect the highest honor on her name. The most memorable event of her life is this recorded: After a long consultation among the Indians, the fate of Captain Smith, who was the leader of the first colony in Virginia, was decided. The conclave resumed their silent gravity. Two huge stones were placed near the water's edge; Smith was lashed to them, and his head was laid down, as a preparation for beating out his brains with war-clubs. Powhattan raised the fatal instrument, and the savage multitude with their blood-stained weapons stood near their king, silently waiting the prisoner's last moment. But Smith was not destined to thus perish. Pocahontas, the beloved daughter of the king, rushed forward, fell upon her knees, and, with tears and entreaties, prayed that the victim might be spared. The royal savage rejected her suit, and commanded her to leave Smith to his fate. Grown frantic at the failure of her supplications, Pocahontas threw her arms about Smith, and laid her head on his, her raven hair falling around his neck and shoulders, declaring she would perish with or save him. The Indians gasped for breath, fearing that Powhatan would slay his child for taking such a deep interest in the fate of one he considered his deadliest foe. But human nature is the same everywhere; the war-club dropped from the monarch's hand--his brow relaxed--his heart softened; and, as he raised his brave daughter to his bosom, and kissed her forehead, he reversed