St. Charles City Republican intelligencer. [volume] (St. Charles City [Charles City], Iowa) 1857-1861, 1861-01-17

agreed III is wager " ChOrns
ed the Colonel and the two other off
GERS.
And in that momcnt-whiIc IN,
doorway was thrOn%cd by fair ladic.
and gay officers, attracted from the
next room by the debate-as tha,
young Refugee stood with one hand
resting upon the little pile of gold.
his ruddy face grow suddcnly pale as
shroud, his blue eyes dilatcd until
they were each cncirclcd by line of
white cnamel, he remained standing
there, as if frozen to stone.
Why, Captain, what is the mat
ter ! , cried the Colonel, starting up in
alarm, " do you see a ghost, that you
stand gazing there at the blank wall?"
The other officers also started up in
alarm also asked the cause of this
singular dcmeanor, but still for the
space OF a minute or more the Refu
gee Captain stood there, more like a
dead man suddenly recalled to life,
than living being.
That moment passed, he sat down
with q cold 8hivcr made a strong ef.
fort as if to command his reason and
then gave uttcrancc to forced laugh.
Na, ha ! See how I've frightened
you " he said-and then laughed that
cold, unnatural, hollow laugh again.
And yet, half an hour from that
time, he freely confessed the nature
Of that horrid picture which he had
seen drawn upon that blank wainscot-
ted wall, as if by some supernatural
hand.
But now, with the wine cup in his
hand, he turned from one comradc and
another, uttering some forced Jest, or
looking towards the doorway, crowd
ed by officers and ladies, he gayly in
vlted them to share in this remarka-
bic argument Which were the most
beautiful women in the world ?
As he spoke, the hour struck.
Twelve o'clock was there, and with
it a footstep, and then q bold Indian
form came urging through the crowd
of ladies thronging yonder doorway.
Silently, his arms folded on his war
blanket, 4 look of calm stoicism on
his dusky brow, the Indian advanced
along the room, aud stood at the head
of the table. There was no lady with
him
Where is the fair girl? She who is
20 be the bride tomorrow ? Perhaps
he Indian has left her in the next
Dom, or in one of the other halls of
he old mansion, or pcrhaps-but the
hOught is foolish one-she has re-
used to obey her lovers request-rc-
used to come TO meet him !
There was something awful in the
lCop silence that reigned through the
oom, as the solitary Indian stood
here, at the head Of the table, gazing
ilently in the lovers face.
Where is she ?" at length gaspcd
he Refugee. She has not refused
D come? Tell mc-has any accident
efallcn her on the way? | know the
orcst is dark, and the wild path most
iflicult~-tcll me where is the lady {
a whom | sent you into the Rebel /
mes ?" |
For a moment, as the strange hor- {
or Of that lovers face was before t
i'm, the Indian was silent. Then, as {
is answer seemed trembling on his {
ps, the ladies in yon doorway, the
iliccrs from the ballroom, and the 5
arty round the table, formed a group t
round the two central figures-the ,
ldian standing at the head of the ia. /
lc, his arms folded in his war-blanket /
that young officer, half rising from I
is seat, his lips parted, his face asiy, j
is clcnched hands resting on the dark '
ahogany of the table. S
The Indian answered first by an ac- Y
on, then by word.
First the action: Slowly drawing It
IS right hand from his war blanket, q
9 held it in the light. That right 5
and clutched with blood-stained fin. l
crs bleeding scalp, and long and t
lossy locks Of beautiful dark hair ! c
Then came the word Young war; a
or sent the red man for the scalp of $
lc pale faced squaw ! Here it is /"
Yes--the rude savage had mistaken u
is message Instead of bringing II
Ic bride to her lovers arms, he had =
one on his way, determined to bring '
e scalp Of the victim to the grasp Of II II
II pale face enemy. u u
Not even groan disturbed the deep :,
lcncc of that dreadful moment. Look u
ere ! The lover rises, presses that Il
ng hair--so black, 50 glossy, so
,autiful-to his heart, and then-as
ough huge weight falling on his
ain, had crushed him, fell with one n
'ad sound on the hard floor. 9
He lay therc-stilf, and pale, and t
'ld--his clenchcd right hand still
the bloody scalp and the "
ng black hair falling in glossy tress- d
over the floor [
This was the bridal eve 0
Now tell me, my friends, you who 5
we heard some silly and ignorant b
etender pitifully complain of the h
'stitution of Legend, Poetry, Ro- c
ance, which characterizes our Ma HI
onal History-tell me, did you ever is
ad a tradition of England, or France, III
Italy, or Spain, or any land under ol
&c Heavens, that might, in point of NJ
vful tragedy, compare with the sim al
e history of David Jones and Jane NJ
cCrea? For it is but a scene from v
is narrative, with which you have NJ
| been familiar from childhood, that h,
have given you. h
When the bridegroom, flung there p
the floor, with the bloody scalp and a
ng dark tresses in his hands, arose p
;ain 10 the terrible consciousness of ii
e-these words trembled from his V
IS, in faint and husky whisper t,
Do you remember how, half an W
'ur ago--I stood thereby the Ia a