The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1901-05-22

thlng OF her, giving PROOF tnaG
far in calling her by her Indian
bestowed name. That gives me
hope, while / ponder again up
on her disconnected harangue
of silver palace-walls and pearly
floors. She hath an. apartment
there, so She tells, where she
holds communion with the dead,
and their voices answer her.
Her language is very good. and
she commences talk with so ra-
tion and plausible an air, that
you find youIself listening most
Iintently, and rapt, indeed, then
she becomes so excited that
mind and tongue run riot to-
gether, and a brain of only
healthy velocity cannot keep up.
There promises to be little
peace between us and these saw
ages ever again, scarce II lady
now passes but chronicles some
new depreciation. Still they do
us the justice to acknowledge
the red man was the aggressor.
The Great Spirit, they say, is
on the side of the white man,
and indeed our mode of warfare
hath been destructive enough.
My husband has imported the
pink clover into the country,
but they viii have it it is their
wild white clover, which Lewis
and his men have dyed red with
the blood of the Indian.
My poor Alice looks infant
like and innocent with her bald
head.
A threatening fever followed
the oXcitement and terror of her
stealing away by the savages,
and her roses in her checks are
scarce recovered yet.
Mary Greonlee was good as
her word in bringing tho lost
baby to us, and for Alice, she
told the strangest tale, the
which, did not have proof
better, might almost make me
think The child mad as Mary
lGreenlee. This latter was with
the Indians in their assault the
night before her discovery of
herself to us. They had truly
taken her captive, and she, the
more readily to pave the way
to escape when time should
offer, feigncd dislike of the
whites, and that she had run to
them of her own will. She
painted her skin like them and
dressed like them, but the very
night they brought White Dove
home n captive, her heart was
stirred for her race She watch
ed her opportunity, seized her
pony they had captured with
her, and taking the fear-dis.
traught child behind her, set
out at speed of the wind, so
Alice tells, and so deftly did she
manage that they were not pur-
sued to be conscious of pur-
suit.
| The witch, as some call her,
betook her rescued prisoner and
herself to n strange great cavern
somewhere, which none have
since been enabled to find trace
Of, then let the pony go, so the
red men might follow its tracks,
nor halt at her retreat, which,
indeed, it is a question if it is
known to them.
I tell Alice she has become
daft, what with her capture and
reading of the Arabian Nights,
for she talks of the grand mar
| bic palace under ground, of it's
interminable galleries, its stat
utes and its fountains, and
withal of stars and moon peering
through it's roof. Now every
one knows no human head
would contrive anything so silly
as princely hall of this gait
with any of its roof open to the
sky. 1t must be weird edifice,
truly, and worthy the keeper
who feedeth herself and chance
guests on dried haws and chin
quapins. But none of the Lewis
name can IOTeNeTInoTe ChT1 hO
Mary Greenlee, what she does.
Blessed creature would walk
on hands and knees to serve her
to the latest day of my life.
That day of the last siege of
our fort, while Alice was lost,
as she did demonstrate to us
afterward, she showed more wit
to give us tiding of our stolen
one, than we to make good use
, thereof. She had shot over the
wall, fastened to her arrow, the
| words, scratched in berry-iuice
upon a piece of white rag
"The White Dove is safe. :"