Literary cadet and Rhode-Island statesman. [volume] (Providence, R.I.) 1827-1829, 1828-02-13

spIeduinB odh, On INC Dunhs vi tHt MO
hawk, and heaped stones upon his grave
without u tear. He mus, liz near the
water, said the desolal| Chief, else the
white mans horses Will tread ON him.
The young mother did not weep, but
her heart had received It's death wound
The fever seized her, and she grew
paler and weaker every day. One
morning, POwontonamo returned with
some delicate food he had been seeking
for her. Will Soonseetah eatP said
he. lie spoke in a tone Of sudden ten
derness; but she answered not. The
foot which was wont to bound for ard
to meet him, lay motionless and cold.
He raised the blanket which partly
concealed her face, and saw that the
>unny-eye vas closed in death. One
hand was pressed against her heart as
ii her last moments had been painful
The othcs grasped the beads which the
young Eagle had given her IN the hap
py days Of cour,ship One heart-fend-
ing shrek was wrung rom the bosom oi
the a%goniZed savage. He tossed his
arms wildly above his head, and threw
himself besid the body oI her he had
loved so fondly, deeply and passionate
ly, as ever a white man loved. Alter
the first burst OF grief had subsidized, he
carefully united the necklace from her
full, beautiful bosom, crossed her hands
over the sacred relic, and put back the
shining hair from her smooth forehead.
For hours he watched the corpse IN 81
lence; then he rose and carried it from
the wIgwam. He dug a grave by the
side OF his lost boy laid the head Of
ooonsetah toward the rising sun heap
ed the earth upon it, and covered II with
stones, according to the custom Of his
people.
Night was closing in, and still the be-
reayed Mohawk stood at the grave OF
S~unny-eye, as m%otionlcss as its cold IN
mate A white man, as no passed,
paused, and looked in pity IN him Are
you sick = asked he yes; me sick
Me very sick here answered Powonto-
name, laying his hand upon his swelling
heart. tWill you go homes" 'Home!
exclaimed the heart broken Chief, Ia
tones so thrilling that tho white man
started. Then slowly, and with a half
vacant look, he added, yes. me go
home. BY and by me 60 home. Not an
other word would he speak; and the white
man left him, and went his way. A little
while longer he stood watching tbG
changing heavens and then, with re-
luctant step retired to his solitary wig
wan.
The next day, a tree, which Soonsc-
tab had often said vas just as old as
their boy, was placed near the mother
and child 4 wild vine was Struggling
among the loose stones, and Powoato-
namo carefully twincdi il around the tree
The young oak is the Eagle of Mo-
hawks he said /; and now the Sunny
eye has her arms around him lie
spoke in wild music Of his native
tongue but there was none to answer
Yes !owontonamo will go home,' sigh
ed he He Will go where the sun sets
in the ocean, and the white man, eyes
have never looked upon It. One long
onr% lingering glance at the graves OF his
kindred, and the Eagle If the Mohawks
babe farewell to the land OF his ia
thers.
For many a returning autumn, a lone
Indian was seen standing at the conse-
! Grated spot we have mentioned but,
just thlrty years after the doati olSoon-
seetah, ho was noticed for the last time.
His step was then firm, though h. seem
ed old end way-worn Age mad not dim
med the fire OF his eye- but an express
ION oil deep melancholy had settled on
his wrinklod brow. II was Powontonamn
he who had oncc been the Eagle o
the Mohawks! lie came to lay down
and die beneath the broad oak, which
Swallowed the grave of Sunny eye. Alas
the white mans axe had been there!
The tree he had planted was dead /;
and the vine, whic!, had led so Wig
orously from branch to branch, now, yell
low and whitening, was falling to the
ground A deep groan burst from the
soul of the savage. For thirty weari-
some years he had watched that oak,
with its twlning tendrils They were
the only things left in tho wide world fo'
him to love, and they were gone! He
booked abroad The hunting land OF his
tribe was changed, like its chi-fiain
No light came now SHOT down the river,
like a bird upon the wing The laden
boat of the white man alone broke us
smooth surface. The Englishman's
road wound like "A serpent around the
banks of the Mohawk and iron hoois
had SO beaten down the wal path. that a
hawks eye could not discover an Indian
track.
The last wigwam was destroyed, and
the sun looked boldly down upon spots
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