The Trinity journal., 1856-12-06
tcoMMUNIcATED.l
OlIap O d r j d a

The other day met a very old man of dngy
hue. He is an aboriginal offspring Of this broad
State of ours Short of stature and with coun-
tenance scanned with deep furroHs, nine decades
al least have frosted his coarse and shaggy locks
until they have become as white as the snow that
crests our loftiest mountains. know the name
of this veteran red man, for in my hunting excur
sions | have fingered at his rude wigwam, and we
have ca ten together at midnight the foot of the
bear and the loins of the brown deer. 1t was
then the other day and for the last time that |
saw him in distant valley. lie was seated upon
a stone, his body bent while his two hands were
clenched about ragged mansineta stick. SO alb
sOrbed in meditation was the old man that he did
not detect my approach until | gently laid my
hand upon his back. Come, Black Eagle, y said
|, /" you are sombre to-day. Imbosom your griefs
to a good and ! trust a staunch friend" AS he
raised his head to bid me welcome his eyes were
sufIused with tears and his countenancc betrayed
the most intense sorrow. Gazing about him as
if to discover some anticipated object - Do you
see,' said he, pointing his naked and shrveled
arm to tall and leaiess tree in the distance,--
:" do you see that lone and desolate scion of the
forest? Eight times twelve moons have buried
their lustre in the Western water since | a merry
Indian boy gamboled in childish glee beneath the
shadows Of that old oak. AS my sinews strength
ened and shot upwards into the mould and height
Of manhood, danced at the feet of that old tree.
There danced too my tribe as they came laden
with thn fruite of tho chaSn or rnpI,iur
blood of our foes There too did the eyes of the
White Swan first pierce and melt into my soul
and in the branches Of that same old oak the wild
birds sang song of JOY as she nestled Il sweet
and modest bride in the bosom of her own Black
Eagle. With mystic and unreyealable ceremo-
nies was ] chosen leader and chief beneath that
same old tree, and / knew no superior but He
VIII o rides upon the storm. White Swan bore me
many little ones, and | grew big in might and
JOY. The white curtain of winter has now dis
appeared nine times from the mountain tops, and
the hot breath Of summer ran through the valley
A wolf and bear in company and as good friends
ran down the hillside and plunged intoyon stream
now so dark and mry, then so limpid and pearly
They forgot their hates that they might cool
themselves Then came a fierce and black cloud
and from its bosom, launched by the Great Spir-
it, leapcd a stream of fre-a Grassland / saw
the old oak tree stripped of branch and verdure.
Dead and hugged by the sapless roots of the old
oak tree the White Swan and the fruits Of our
joys and loves-wife and little ones all gone |
have just talked with the old oak. 1t calls me a
brother, scared and withered and forlorn as itself
1t told me the lightnings fash was the dircful |
tread of the white man and portcnded doom to
the red man of the mountain and vale 1t told
me to come again tonight when the stars were
dim, the hoot of the night bird heard, and the
bark Of the wolf was sharpest, and shall go.n
/ left the dementcd old man to his grief But
that night the old tree, dccaycd at its heart
stretched its huge length upon the ground, and
beneath its terrific weight lay the disfgured and
mutilatcd corse Of poor Black Eagle, the old Dig
ger Chief