Grand River times. [volume] (Grand Haven, Mich.) 1851-18??, 1853-03-30
SLEEPING FAWN,
OR, THE INFANT CAPTIVE.
BY CHARLES w. WILMOT.

BY CHARLES w. WILMOT.
Many of the readers of the Daily Times are,
perhaps, familiar with the history of the horri-
ble and revolving massacre that took place in
the beautiful and romantic vale of Wyoming
This loveest of valleys Is situated in one of the
most wild and romantic regions of country in
the northern part of Pennsylvania. 1t was at
one time held possession Of by two powerful
and warlike tribes of Indians-the Delawares
and Shawnees. With no enemy to moest them,
and on friendly terms with each other, they en-
joyed years of unaloyed happiness and repose
in following their favorte occupation ofhunting
after the deer that were very numerous in this
district of country, and fishing for the specked
trout that the river and the streams abounded
with. To them all was bright and beautiful
Years rolled on and they still remained lords of
The soil and forest that their fathers beQueathed
o them, and whose right and title there was
none to dispute. Then their swift canoes dam
ced like fairies upon the bright and shining wa.
,ers of the noble Susq uehannah, whose stream
hoated TRANQUILITY along in serpentine course
through groups of islands of ever-changing ver-
dure, that lay embosomed like babe upon its
mothers bosom. To them all was sunshine and
hope; and to the great Spirit only they looked
for protection-and Him and Him only they
relied upon to revenge their wrongs and satisfy
their wants.
The past was indeed pleasant to look back
to it's joys and its pleasures found warm
place in their hearts, and was indellibly impress.
ed upon their memory, never to be effaced by
time nor circumstance. Alas how soon their
fondest and most cherished hopes were to be
blasted!
Twas spring, and the forest was'clothed with
verdurc, when the pale face entered their forest
and happy home. Every thing was beautiful! to
the eye, and the white man laid himself down
beneath the cool and outrageous shade of an in
vting sycamore. The feathery songsters war
bled forth their most joyous notes, and the old
forest resoundcd with their sweet melody. The
wild flowers that decked with their thousand
hues the hill side and the mountains, sent up
their sweet odor, filling the air with delicious
perfume, while the honey suckle opened her
bells, and hung bright and Haunting among the
moss.covered rocks. In the distance glimmer-
ed the wigwams of the red faced tribes. The
pale face looked down upon the poor Indians
lodge, and having drank from cup of leaves
from n crystal spring on the mountains brow,
descended into the valley below, to feast his eye
upon the beautiful landscape that lay stretched
ont before him like panorama of some fairy
land. He directed his footsteps towards their
wigwams, not to cultivate feelings of friendship
and guod will, nor to teach them q way to a
brighter and happier world-to God our Father
in Heaven. They received him with hospitality,
and in the spirit Of broiherly affection, welconl-
ed him 10 their homes in their native valley
They presented him with presents, and loaded
him with valuable gifts of friendships TOKEN
Poor dcluded creatures; they knew not what
they had done. The white man laughed at them
he mocked them, and attempted 10 get possess
ion of their lands and destory their happiness
TO create diScord and enmity among themselves
and plunge them in an unholy and unrighteous
war; They became exasperated, and meditatcd
an immediate attack upon the small village OF
Wilkesbarre, principally settled by the hardy
and industrious sons of New England And
with determination 10 revenge their wrongs
and maintain their rights, they united in n body
10 protect their homes, their wigwams, and their
little ones.
Twas lovely morningin May--the sun came
forth in all her glory and beauty, dispensing its
genial rays Of purple and gold upon hill and
mountain, and penetrating the depths of the val.
lev, cnsling its broad light upon the benighed
little village whose people were wrapped in
slumber, never dreaming of the awful fate that
awaited them. Hark what ycs the red man
cries for revenge, for the scalps of The pale face
'Tis the war whoop that vbrates through the
forest and the valley The hills re.echo with
their shrill voices. On, on they come,with fright.
ful and CHASTITY faces, with their tomahawks and
sea ping knives brandshcd above their heads
they emerge from the forest and enter the town
firing the houses, and sealping the inhabitants
men, women and children falls victims to their
eternal wrath. Like hungry tigers, and famish
ing wolves. they pass on needless Of the cries
and lamentations of the inhabitants for help, and
as the cries Of the wounded increase, they shcu,
with exuhation over their helpless victims Al
last they gasp for breath-then advancing with
renewed yigor and thirst for blood, they force
an entrance into the mansion occupied by Mrs
Slocum, and taking up her beautiful blue eyed
boy, OF four years, to carry him into captivity
the mother, with that strong love for her child
rnahos forth from hap piaca f On al Inn ant aur