The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1846-03-03 00:00:00

In Paratlisc
Ar.d happy children are

,ere note but good

If you wil! tea h u,e h,w to live,

;o above

My Father will a

,e things, mamma, you'll try

To make me c

in rehend

And dear papa will to 1 me why
To heav'n such prayers you send

My heart, my tongue, my e:
My every act, shall show

rry ear.

That in t

Your little boy will

that ea

succeeding year,

May find me
Your darlir

and still more dear,
FREDERICK JOHN,

SELECTIONS.

SCENE IN AN INDIAN WIGWAM.
(From" The Efehtvi led ?dock; a
_Comanche Legend,

by Percy B. St. John

It was a girl—a young eirl—s.ca,cely past childhood
herself, too youthlul, it would have appeared for her holy
office ' • but with the burthen comes ever the power to bear
it • and to a mother, receiving in her arms the great gift
oiqod, the guardianship and ministration of an immortal
being, comes ever, to young or old, those gushing feelings
of devotion, tenderness, and love, which hang in fragrant
perfume round the mime of mother.

The Indian girl—or rather the mixed-blood—for lowa
was English on the father's side—sat upon a heap of skins,
engaged in the act of suckling her beloved infant. It was
a boy of some six months old, strong, healthful, and
sturdy. But half asleep, its tiny hand tested on its mo-
ther's bosom, as-if clinging to her for support, one of its
eyes stealthily, as it were, cast. up towards the only coun-
tenance it could yet recoamse. A smite of mingled fond-
ness, tenderness, and pity rested on the mother's sweet
face; a smile never illumining the human visage save on
this very occasion ; a smile peculiar in its gentle adoration
of the being to whom the donor has given life. 'Tis like
no other,—trembling anxiety, devoted fondness, tender-
ness, a liquid moisture in the eyes,—all combine to ren-
der it one of those nameless things, felt but not actual,
understood but incapable of being explained
The infant at length wok

up, laughing in its mother's
face, who, with a delight almost childish, raised it up,
held it out at arm's length, talked to it as if it fully com-
prehended all she said, and, delighted at the young crea-
ture's innocent and ang-iic expressions of enjoyment,
laughed in concert, and was as truly happy in the child's
entire abandonment and joyousness as the little being it.
self. Now she pressed it to her bosom, the infant clutch-
ing in very wantonness at her hair, her lace, and neck, and
laughing outright; then she raised it up, wondering and
sedate at its elevated position, and then, jumping up,
danced merrily round the tent, her world in her arms,
pure, innocent, lovely, and happy.

• •
The ways of God are inscrutable ; and he who judges of
his deeds in haste will assuredly repent in gnawing anguish
of heart ; but wbo that sees such gleesome happiness, such
pure and soothing joy, can fag to shudder when he thinks
that a breath, a taint in the air, the most trifling derange-
inent of the golden mechanism of life, may change the pic-
ture to woe unutterable, to wailing and gnashing of teeth ?
Not in the deepest gloom of Ilades is grief more sad than
this. Then let us not spurn the thought of that future
where we may hope to meet the lost upon earth, in un-
dying realms, the abode of the Eternal.
lowa dreamed not of the future, she was happy; and as
she pressed her infant to her bosom, and thought of its
absent and gallant father, her heart swelled with joy, with
pride, with love. _

Pres'ntly a distant hum of voices reached her ear, and
then the hurrying past of women and children, the bark-
ing of the trusty watch-dogs, the stately passing to and
fro of the warriors, informed her that the war-party had
returned, or at all events a portion of it. The happy girl's
cheek blanched. In her joyous delight she had forgot the
dangers which the babe's father was incurring. In the
rnerrisorne glee called forth by motherly pride and love,
she had foiled to recollect that her husband was out upon
.the bloody path, where some are sure to fall, and none can
say who. _ _

Still the girl stirred not, moved not, but, momentarily
forgetful of the child's innocent prattle, listened with
charmed ears and pale cheek for the next sound which she
should detect. The Lepan who owned her for a wt!e. be-
ing jealous of her beauty and attractions, had strictly for-
bidden her leaving her tent, except.% hen absolutely neces-
sary, and the youthful squaw knew no feeling more po-
werful than obedience to him who ruled her heart. Still

she fondled the infant, but now without a smile. But ten
minutes ago and its rosy and ruddy cheeks reflected the
glow of her smiles, and now care and anxiety rested on her

lair and lovely brow

A quarter of an hour passed—a quarter of an hour of
intense anxiety, and then footsteps approached, and her
husband entered the tent, but not alone. A beautiful but
stern Indian girl accompanied him, and the Lepan
scarcely glanced at his wife or child in his anxiety to point
out the accommodation which Keetsea was to txpect
within his wigwam. Keetsea haughtily accepted a seat,
glancing curiously and not without interest at the picture
before her.

And lowa ? Not a sound escaped her lips, not a breath
whispered her intense and acute feelings, though a palor
of deathlike nature rested on her cheeks, and the babe lay
forgotten on her knee for the first time. The lighthearted
girl was no more ; a woman, lull of doubt and care, filled
-her place. A faint cry from the child restored her con-
stiousnes, and then, es if reproaching herself for her ne-
giect, she pressed the infant more closely to her bosom,
for now indeed it was all the world to her. She saw her
fate at a glance. Custom sanctioned polygamy, and her
husband bad every right to follow custom ; but the dream
of her youth was over : lowa saw with bitter grief, only
to be likened to that which bubbles to the heart when the
•cold sod falls on the inanimate form of a cherished child,
that her husband's love had passed from her.

ANECDOTE OF A LADY OF BORNEO.—The following
little adventure was told me during my stay at Sarawak,
by Dr. Treacher, who had lately joined Mr. Brooke, his
former medical attendant having returned to England.
It appears that Dr. Treachfr received a message by a con-
fidential slave, that one of the ladies of Macota's harem
desired an interview, appointing a secluded spot in the
jungle as the rendezvous. The doctor, being aware of his
own good looks, fancied he had made a conquest ; and,
having got himself up as showily as he could, was there at
the appointed time. Ile described the poor girl as both
young and pretty, but with a dignified and determined
look, which at once convinced him that she was moved to
take so dangerous a step by some deeper feeling than that
of a mere fancy for his person. She complained of the
ill-treatment she had received from Macota, and the mi-
serable life she lad ; and avowed that her firm resolve was
to destroy (not herself, gentle creature I but) him; for
which purpose she wanted a small portion of arsenic. It
was a disappointment that he could not comply with her
request; so they parted, he full of pity and love for her,
and she, in all probability, full of contempt for a man who
felt for her wrongs, but would not aid in the very simple
weans she had proposed for redressing them.—Captain
Keppera Borneo.