Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1855-01-04

1
repoach and bitter disapprobation in his heart
aid ne gaze upon his much priced disciple, who
breathing hurriedly and with difficulty, reclined
IN the light of the sinking sun; for with the
llrs' realization of the murmuring invalid's Sc
rious Illness, the conviction of its speedy close
mad entered his mind. Perhaps from some
change wrought in his manner by these new
emotions or from the feeling of dependence ex
treme weakness is apt to engendsr, the manner
OF the red man suddenly became almost child
like in its affectionate confdinguess; and be.
fore the sun set he had told his whole story to
Wade, who then learned that his much beloved
pupil was the dispised and hated rival of his
youth--and that love more powerful, and
spot more dear than any link with the memory
OF the tribe among whom he had been reared,
had been the young chiefs strongest induce
ments to his present journey-which was main
ly but pilgrimage to tho grave of Alice. The
agitation of Wade during the greater part of
the recital Of this unsupported history, was un-
noticed by his companion, who, absorbed in
thoughts of the past, gazed upon the glowing
West-as was also the husky tremulousness of
his tones, as he asked
Brother, do you from your heart forgive the
man who wrought you this wo, and who, doubt
less, songht your life instead Of the one he was
doomed to takel -
~ do forgive him from my heart" was the
reply
Come you pray for him to our merciful
Father!"
81 pray daily for that man, my brother
though there was time when could not, he
calmly answered.
A disclosure of his own identity and his ia
tai connection with the story of his companion,
was upon the lips of Wade; but as he noted
the wan and weary aspect of the sick man, he
hesitated in regard to its expediency, and de-
cident to defer it until more favorable season.
The revelation of the Indian banished all sleep
for that night from tho eyelids Of Wade-the
strange name by which the former had been
called among the Northern tribes had given no
intimation of what was his unknown and hard
ly-cared-for history-and now, when it was
told at last. it suddenly and painfully awakened
long sumbering and sorrowful memories. That
the -of-the-Forest had not discovered, or sus-
pected, the guide whom he revered, to be the
person from whom his early love had fled, was
not surprising, notwithstanding the unchanged
name-he had known but little of Wade except
from occasional report, and the impression made
by that, joined to the knowledge of persons OF
somewhat similar fame, would have made the
change to what Wade then was, seem unlikely
to the verge of impossibilily' Wearied and ex.
h,sssted, she invalid slumbered through the
night while his loved and trusted, yet unknown
friend watched, at interyales surveying anxious
ly his rapidly changing countenance. At dawr
of day he awoke with the death damp on hil
brow and Wade had barely time to receive hi
signalized assent to the requirements Of tht
baptisnal rite, and to apply the regeReratine
waters, ere his spirit fled. As Wade sat long
immersed in thought, by the side of the dcpar
ted one that day, he formed his plan for the bu
rial, which some of the Indians, whom h,
brbed we'll, assisted him to execute; and th
next morning, one of the stillest and dreamies
of the Indian summer, they laid the Son. the
Forest in the grove of his pale-faced bride
When the melancholy task was completed, tn
Indians waited respectfully whilo the white maj
knelt for brief space in earnest prayer ahov
the grave and then, with them, he retraced hi
course to the main land
Thirty years went by after that later burial
and while they passed, the hand OF the white
man wrought a marked change in the aspect o
the region in which lay that little lake, with it
island grave. One day, after the lapse of thi
long interval, stranger, white-haired, and will
the furrows of many years upon his face, ye
hale in aspect and erect in bearing, appeare
there, and at liberal rate of compensation en-
gagged accommodation for few days at farm
house. He was not known to any of the set
tiers of the vicinage, and as they frequentl
!, met him roaming in medative mood, when i
the pursuit of their avocations, he was speedil
regarded by them as an author, Or a philosc
pher, or perhaps a quiet sort Of lunatic. hi
favorite haunt seemed to be the pond which
the theme of my story, which belonged to tn
farm adjoining the one on which he abode-an
assuredly, had he been unaccoutably missing
the first search for him would have been mad
in its still waters. One day he encountered til
owner of that favorito pond, and ,accosting hin
made some remarks upon its picturesque beaut
which did not seem particularly edifying to II
worthy agriculturist, concluding by requestir
; permission to cut down the two or three sma
and unshapely trees which grew on the lit
island, and to plant willow in their stea
The farmer readily gave the desired lbert
though he could hardly conceal his contempt f
the puerility of the fancy, and internally dec
ded that the theory of insanity had been Il
true one. The stranger at once engaged tv
stout farm laborers to cut down and uproot,
far as might be, the trees to which he objected
he supervising their work and when it W
completed, he planted with great care, youn
slender, weeping willow in the soil whicn hi
thus been cleared. A day or two afterward
, left the region.
Some years after that time, a venerable ma
, who, in his youth, had been an intimate ass
ciate of John Wade, received packet address
, to him in u strange hand. 1t contained ma
7 rative written by Wade, which included me
; of the events already here related, and wh
, had been left by him at his death, sealed, wi
directions that it should be transmitted to t
: friend who received it, should he then be livi
a ;f he vorp mt another recinisnt was desi