The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1849-10-13
TO SUBSCRIBERS.
) THE HUNTERS TALE; gT
OR, CONRAD MAYER 4 SUSAN GRAY

OR, CONRAD MAYER & SUSAN GRAY.
BY chace our long lived fathers earn I'd their food;
Toll strung their nerves, and purify'd the blood;
But we, their sons. pamper'd race of men,
Are dvindled down to threescore years and ten.
-ah3 tAS Episiie to John Dryden
"Fiiy years have flown, have flown
away, since my infant feet traversed, and
since my infant eye ranged over the
hills and wales of the Ohio
regions, then emphatically called 1.-THE
WESTERN COUNTRY" it was amid these
vast solitudes that my young limbs were
braced to climb the rocky sleeps OF the
Monongahela woods, and there did my
Young eye first catch the beams of the
morning, on the hills Of Ohio. But ifmy
steps were wild and errant as the deer |
chased, my smind was led by the romance
like history of the place and time, to range
over. dwell upon, and strongly remember,
scenes Of human action still more wild
than the then almost broken wilderness.
"Fify years are gone, and have borne
with their seasons the Red men of the will
derness, and changed the wilderness it.
self to garden. In this great change,
where are the first race of whites who pen
etrated the wild waste, met and vanquish-
ed the native Indian, and dissipated the
dark gloom? Gone to their rest, with a
few remnants, of which am one. The
smile that lights my eye on seeing the
thousand fountains of Ohio, as they are
now to be seen, and when mentally form
the contrast with the past, is quenched by
the tear of bitter remembrance.
"The beloved friends, the protectors and
companions Of my infancy, where are
theyl With but very slight change,
might repeat, and apply to myself. the
plaintive reflections OF man, who saw
from throne, and wept over the evane-
scence of our best joys, our affections.
1.-The friends of my infancy, where are
they! Where are the dear parents, au.
thors of my existence! Ny brothers!
they arc no more; and thou, my tender
sister! thou only now exists in this sad
heart. But what do sayl where are en-
tire families! cut down by the scythe of
death.
"In the extent of bereavement, can
mourn over more, a much creator loss.
NY parents, my brothers and my sisters
were once twelye-where are theyl one
sister is left, the Others are at rest and
their remains lie in the bosom ofthe West
There is balm, though that balm may be
moistened with the tear OF regret, in re-
calling scenes long gone by, and in speak
ing of those forever loved, but who we can
see on earth no more.
"Amongst these friends whose eyes are
sealed, the memory Of none other returns
with more warmth. than the rough warriors
Conrad Mayer and Lewis Wetzel'-
=. The name of Lewis Wetzel, struck not
alone my ear. for well did | also once
know the brown, gallant brave, and gen.
,erous hunter-warrior, and started to my
feet, and seized the hand OF the grey
haired soldier, Kingsly Hale who was
thus opening one of his thousand and
two" tales to group Of most attentive
young persons. Kingsly was a veteran
who had seen much, suffered much, yet
with the weight Of sixty-five years on his
head, his memory was but little impaired,
and his eye and tone of voice were still
strong and expressive. My enthusiasm,
though stranger. was spark thrown in
to powder magazine; it struck fire from
the soul of Kingsly, who, returning the
pressure of my hand with more than my
own ardor, exclaimed, were you in this
country when Lewis Wetzel and Conrad
Mayer bore the rifle to the battle ieldP'
"Like yourself" replied, "it is fifty
wears since first set foot where we now
stand"
The old veteran regarded me ixedly,
and the big tear trembled in his eye; but
moment restored him to himself, as he
slowly repeated, as if to his own recollec-
tions, fifty years! dreadful sounds--men
and nations tremble at thy repetition
Stranger, for cannot recall thy features,
my name is Kingsly Hale;'' "and mine,
Mark Bancroft
The recognition was instantaneous-it
was, might say, terribly pleasing! For.
ty years before had seen and called
Kingsly my friend, and what had we now
to remember together! He regained COM
;posure first, when turning to the astonish-
ed group. some of whom were his grand
and some were his nephews, re-
sumed his tale, pointing at the same time
down the placid Ohio, on the banks of
which we were assembled, and to point
beyond the fine town of Wheeling, which
stretched along the landscape.
"My children, long before either Of you
saw the light, the now wrinkled Mark
Bancroft and myself, sat under the shade
on yonder hill, and recounted much Of
what you are now to hear.
in TITS. the Zane family built
a fort amidst the plain on whichithat city
now stands, fora city it lis. in all the NOR
al and social, and in every commercial
attribute of city, Wheeling Fort was
the outpost of civilization. The plain or
bottom, narrow and darkened bytrees and
underwood, was oyershadowed by that hi /
steen and irnpendinp also with forest