While, from the rich, dark tracery Lights gleamed on harness, plume, and spear, 6. Fast hurrying through the outer gate, On through the portal's frowning arch, (0) 7. "Fill every beakert up, my men, There's life and strength in every drop,- Are ye all there, my vassals true? 8. "Ye're there, but yet I see you not. Up all, and shout for RUDIGER:- 9. Bowl rang to bowl, steel clanged to steel, That made the torches flare around, And shook the flags on high :— "Ho! cravens! do ye fear him? Slaves! traitors! have ye flown? RETAINERS, attendants or adherents. BEAKER, cup or glass. Ho! cowards have ye left me To meet him here alone? 10. "But I defy him :-let him come!" While, from its sheath, the ready blade And, with the black and heavy plumes There, in his dark, carved oaken chair, STARVED ROCK; OR, THE LAST OF THE ILLINOIS. CHARLES LANMAN. 1. STARVED ROCK is the unpoetical name of a singular spot It is on the Illinois river, about eight miles south of Ottawa. a rocky bluff, rising from the margin of the stream to the hight of more than a hundred feet, and is only separated from the main land by a narrow chasm. Its length might probably measure two hundred and fifty feet. Its sides are perpendicular, and there is only one point where it can be ascended, and that is by a narrow stair-like path. It is covered with many a cone-like evergreen, and, in summer, encircled by luxuriant grape and ivy vines, and clusters of richly-colored flowers. It is undoubtedly the most conspicuous and beautiful pictorial feature of the sluggish and lone Illinois, and is associated with the final extinction of the Illinois tribe of Indians. The legend, to which I listened from the lips of a venerable Indian-trader, is as follows: 2. Many years ago, the whole region lying between Lake Michigan and the Mississippi was the home and dominion of the Illinois Indians. For them alone did the buffalo and ante lope range over its broad prairies; for them did the finest of rivers roll their waters into the lap of Mexico, and bear upon their bosoms the birchen canoe, as they sought to capture the wild water-fowl; and for them alone did the dense forest, crowding upon those streams, shelter their unnumbered deniIn every direction might be seen the smoke of the wigwams, curling upward to mingle with the sunset clouds, which told them tales of the Spirit-Land. zens. 3. Years passed on, and they continued to be at ease in their possessions. But the white man from the far east, with the miseries that have ever accompanied him on his march of usurpation, began to wander into the wilderness, and trouble, to the poor red man, was the inevitable consequence. The baneful "fire-water," which was the gift of civilization, created dissensions among the savage tribes, until, in the process of time, and on account of purely imaginary evils, the Potawattamies from Michigan determined to make war upon the Indians of Illinois. Fortune smiled upon the oppressors, and the identical rock in question was the spot that witnessed the extinction of an aboriginal tribe. 4. It was the close of a long siege of cruel warfare, and the afternoon of a day in the delightful Indian summer. The sunshine threw a mellow haze upon the prairies, and tinged the multitudinous flowers with deepest gold; while, in the shadow of the forest-islands, the doe and her fawn reposed in perfect quietness, lulled into a contemporary slumber by the hum of the grasshopper and the wild bee. The wilderness world wore an aspect of a perfect Sabbath. But now, in the twinkling of an eye, the delightful solitude was broken by the shrill whoop, and dreadful struggle of bloody conflict, upon the prairies and in the woods. All over the country were seen the dead bodies of the ill-fated Illinois, when it was ordered by Providence that the concluding skirmish between the hostile parties, should take place in the vicinity of Starved Rock. 5. The Potawattamies numbered near three hundred war riors, while the Illinois tribe was reduced to about one hundred, who were mostly aged chiefs and youthful heroes, the more desperate warriors having already perished, and the women. and the children of the tribe having already been massacred and consumed in their wigwams. The battle was most desper ate between the unequal parties. The Illinois were about to give up for lost, when in their frenzy, they gave a defying shout and retreated to the rocky bluff. From this, it was an easy matter to keep back their enemies, but alas! from that moment they were to endure unthought-of suffering, to the delight of their baffled, yet victorious enemies. 6. To describe in words the scene that now followed and was prolonged for several days, is utterly impossible. Those stout-hearted Indians, in whom a nation was about to become extinct, chose to die upon their strange fortress by starvation and thirst, rather than surrender themselves to the scalpingknife of their exterminators. And, with a few exceptions, this was the manner, in which they did perish. Now and then, indeed, a desperate man would lower himself, hoping thereby to escape, but a tomahawk would cleave his brain before he touched the water. 7. Day followed day, and those helpless captives sat in silence, and gazed imploringly upon their broad and beautiful lands, while hunger was gnawing into their very vitals. Night followed night, and they looked upon the silent stars, and toward the home of the Great Spirit, but they murmured not at His decree. And, if they slept, in their dreams they once more played with their little children, or roamed the woods and prairies in perfect freedom. When morning dawned, it was but the harbinger of another day of agony; but when the evening hour came, a smile would sometimes brighten up a haggard countenance, for the poor unhappy soul, through the eye of an obscure faith, had caught a glimpse of the SpiritLand. 8. Day followed day, and the last lingering hope was abandoned. Their destiny was sealed, and no change for good could possibly take place, for the human blood-hounds that watched their prey, were utterly without mercy. The feeble white-haired chief, crept into a thicket, and breathed his last. The recently strong warrior, uttering a protracted but feeble yell of exultation, hurled his tomahawk on some fiend below, and then yielded himself up to the pains of his condition. The blithe form of the soft-eyed youth, parted with its strength, and was compelled to totter, and fall upon the earth, and die. Ten weary, weary days passed on, and the strongest man and the last of his race was numbered with the dead. 9. HOLLOW ye the lonely grave, Lay the brave men side by side. Hand by hand they met the foe; 10. Wake your mournful harmonies, It shall point the pilgrim's eye Here to bend and here to weep. HORATIO HALE. LESSON CXLIII. THE VOICES OF THE DEAD. O. DEWEY. 1. THE world is filled with the voices of the dead. They speak not from the public records of the great world only, but from the private history of our own experience. They speak to us in a thousand remembrances, in a thousand incidents, events, and associations. They speak to us, not only from their silent graves, but from the throng of life. Though they are invisible, yet life is filled with their presence. They are with us by the silent fireside, and in the secluded chamber. They are with us in the paths of society, and in the crowded assemblies of men. |