Gift books; Indians of North America -- Literary collections
this striking and picturesque order, the old monarch announced to the
governor that the natives were prepared to hear and consider his words.
Penn then rose to address them, his countenance beaming with all the
pride of manhood. He was at this time thirty-eight years old; light and
graceful in form; the handsomest, best-looking, most lively gentleman
she had ever seen, wrote a lady who was an eyewitness of the ceremony."
[Footnote 1: "Watson, 16; Day, 299. The landing of Penn in America
is commemorated on the 24th of October, that being the date given by
Clarkson; but the diligent antiquary, Mr. J. F. Watson, has found in
the records of Newcastle the original entry of his arrival."]
[Footnote 2: "The portrait by West is utterly spurious and unlike.
Granville Penn, MSS."]
[Footnote 3: "Penn. Hist. Soc. Mem., iii. part ii. 76."]
DIFFERENT IMPRESSIONS.
BY FREDRIKA BREMER.
I was in company
With men and women,
And heard small talk
Of little things,
Of poor pursuits
And narrow views
Of narrow minds.
I rushed out
To breathe more freely,
To look on nature.
The evening star
Rose grave and bright,
The western sky
Was warm with light,
And the young moon
Shone softly down
Among the shadows
Of the town,
Where whispering trees
And fragrant flowers
Stood hushed in silent,
Balmy bowers.
All was romance,
All loveliness,
Wrapped in a trance
Of mystic bliss.
I looked on
In bitterness,
And sighed and asked,
Why the great Lord
Made so rich beauty
For such a race
Of little men?
I was in company
With men and women,
Heard noble talk
Of noble things,
Of noble doings,
And manly suffering
And man's heart beating
For all mankind.
The evening star
Seemed now less bright,
The western sky
Of paler light,
All nature's beauty
And romance,
So lovely
To gaze upon,
Retired at once,
A shadow but to that of man!
[Illustration:
C. Schuessele del. Drawn by Cap^{t.} S. Eastman.
Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph.
WE-HAR-KA.]
WE-HAR-KA,
OR, THE RIVAL CLANS.
BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.
The Indian settlement, the opening scene of our story, presented a
different appearance from what we call an Indian village at the present
day. The lodges were far more numerous, and the Indians were not
drooping about, without energy, and apparently without occupation. The
long line of hills did not echo the revels of the drunkard, nor were
the faces of the people marked with anxiety and care. The untaught and
untamed dispositions of the red men were as yet unaffected by the evil
influences of the degenerate white man.
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