'^^> 
 
 .•5 
 
 6</^. 
 
 
 \° ,<?5 ^^ 
 
 ;^ <t.^ 
 
 V 
 
 ■<^^' 
 
 :l 
 
 ^'^ 
 
 ^ ^-Z- 
 
 'rf ^^M^ ^^ 
 
 
 ■'^v^v 
 
 .^^ 
 
 
 
 
 >' ^0 
 
 
 
 .o^\.'.... 
 
 rO 
 
 
 
 %* 
 
 
 
 .A^<^ 
 
 
 .^^ 
 
 .>^ 
 
 1 
 
 
 ^' 
 
 ■s. o 
 
 %' 
 
 o. 
 
 J 
 
 ON O^ 
 
 
 
 A. <- ' 
 
 ts y 
 
 
 
 
 > ° % 
 
 .0' 
 
 ^,. ^^ 
 
 » cc5;^v., 
 
 > <t 
 
 % 
 
>^ '*»"<'" v"?*' 
 
 "^ 
 
 V 
 
 \^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 L^ 
 
 v-'". 
 
 
 
 o V 
 
 1T> t t:»,-, » ^^ 
 
 .0' 
 
 » .0-' 
 
 «J> * o « o ' ,\S^ '-> ,, 
 
 '^.. <!^ 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 .^^\- 
 
 <3 O 
 
 •f 
 
 
 '^^r. 
 
 o 
 
 
 ■'■*•. 
 
 
 O' 
 
 
 ,c 
 
 v^ 
 
 
 
 
 \,^^^ " 
 
 
 
 .^^ .vA:^;^ \/ .^. \^^^ :>-<. \/ . 
 
 
 
 
 <' 
 
 
 
 /-,... 
 
 
 
 4>- <^ 
 
 o 
 
 
THE BORDER HEARTH 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE DELAWARE 
 INDIANS, WRITTEN 1800 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM CHANDLER 
 
 Press of 
 
 The New era printing Coupant 
 
 Lancaster. Pa. 
 
 1912 
 

 This legend of the Delaware Indians was written to 
 while away the winter evenings fifty-seven years ago at 
 Belvidere, N. J. The manuscript was laid away and 
 almost forgotten. My grandchildren, rummaging in the 
 attic, found it, old and faded. At their request I have 
 printed it for them, as a souvenir of fading memories. 
 
 Copyright. 19 12 
 By William Chandler. 
 
 / 
 
 gCI.A;^20561 
 
THE HUNTER'S HOME. 
 
 Rude winter's blasts are whirling by, 
 And crackling embers upward fly 
 From faggots of the winter's store, 
 With which the hearth is cover'd o'er. 
 By end of which stands grandpa's chair, 
 A seat which none presume to share 
 But grandpa's pet, — his pride and joy — 
 A merry, restless, cheerful boy. 
 The trembling knees of good grandsire 
 To climb full oft he does aspire, 
 Or bask him, 'twixt them and the fire. 
 Around the table strong and rude, 
 By varnish gloss or paint unhued 
 The busy family all arrange. 
 And laughing urchins there exchange 
 The merry and forbidden glance, 
 At ev'ry fav'ring turn of chance. 
 For brothers bold and sisters coy 
 Vainly essay time to employ. 
 Despite of all paternal care. 
 Young roguery will have its share. 
 The farmer's hand, brown with the toil 
 Of guiding plough through gen'rous soil. 
 Grasps now a manuscript of lore. 
 Which eagerly he's conning o'er, 
 Whiling away the wintry hours 
 In wisdom's fertile fields and bowers. 
 His piercing eyes, with darkling lash, 
 Which o'er the ancient pages flash. 
 
Betoken, quick and keen of ken, 
 
 A feature of the frontier men. 
 
 And needed was the watchful eye 
 
 The wily Indians to espy. 
 
 For oft they lurked in silent glen 
 
 Till set of ev'ning sun, and then, 
 
 With list'ning ear close bent to ground, 
 
 Like wary serpent he would glide 
 
 Through fen and brake his tawny hide. 
 
 And prowl about the homes of men, 
 
 Till breaking day warned him again 
 
 To steal back in deep forest shade 
 
 The wary Redman's ambuscade. 
 
 Beside the father's form stalwart 
 
 The eldest son, his counterpart, 
 
 Sharpens the flint of blackened gun 
 
 Once used by a departed one, 
 
 Who now lies buried 'neath the dust, 
 
 His trusty rifle red with rust. 
 
 Till by neglect it's dusted o'er. 
 
 And flimsy cobwebs fill the bore. 
 
 Yet needs must try the marksman youth 
 
 Of ancient piece the power and truth; 
 
 For old men say "that when it rung 
 
 Its sharp report the hills among, 
 
 Ne'er failed the bullet to go through 
 
 The targe if aimed by marksman true." 
 
 And now again the truth, I ween. 
 
 By youthful hunter will be seen. 
 
 For truer eye or better shot 
 
 'Mong youthful Nimrods there is not. 
 
 His father him had taught the skill 
 
 To hit the distant mark at will; 
 
 And often he enriched their cheer 
 
5 
 
 With venison of wild red deer; 
 And none enjoyed with better heart 
 Than he who played the hunter's part. 
 
 The next to grace this cheerful scene 
 
 Was maiden fair of lovely mien, 
 
 Whose willing fingers lightly ply 
 
 The sparkling needles as they fly 
 
 To weave a wreath, of varied dyes, 
 
 Under her careful guiding eyes. 
 
 Ready at hand, in heaps profuse. 
 
 Lay pliant hairs of antlered moose, 
 
 Colored by Indian's native skill 
 
 To please the most exacting will. 
 
 And brilliant plumes in chance array, 
 
 The varied hues and tints display 
 
 That sparkle on the wood bird's breast 
 
 Or glitter on the eagle's crest. 
 
 These Mary knew to work within 
 
 The wreaths upon her moccasin, 
 
 With taste and such artistic skill 
 
 As fancied her capricious will. 
 
 A finished one so small and neat, 
 
 The latchet strings and all complete, 
 
 Upon the oaken table lay. 
 
 E'en maidens of the present day 
 
 Would pride themselves could they but don 
 
 The moccasins by her put on 
 
 Without the fear of bursting lace 
 
 Or opening seams for want of space. 
 
 Health and comfort led fashion then 
 
 Which they will rarely do again. 
 
 No rustling silks or rich brocade 
 
 Clothed Mary's form, but homespun plaid 
 
So closely wove and with such skill 
 That she could smile at winter's chill 
 And piercing blasts; which often played 
 About her form, yet vain essayed 
 To paint her cheeks a chilly blue, 
 Only imparting ruddy hue. 
 Then brushing by in eddying whirls, 
 Her snowy neck and auburn curls. 
 As if ashamed of mischief meant 
 Accept defeat, their punishment. 
 
 Since when a gay and rambling child 
 
 By sparkling streams, and mountains wild, 
 
 Which rippled past her father's cot, 
 
 A wild sequestered rustic spot, 
 
 Companions few, save wild birds free 
 
 Or lambkins frisking on the lea, 
 
 Were wont with her to have a share 
 
 In rambles round, or e'en a care. 
 
 With such as these, midst nature's wild, 
 
 Grew up the pretty frontier child, 
 
 In beauty rare, till now one could 
 
 Behold in blooming maidenhood 
 
 A wild flower of the wilderness 
 
 In all its native loveliness. 
 
 Reared far from all the ways and wiles 
 
 Of city's tangled life and styles. 
 
 Where fickle fortune holds her sway, 
 
 And fashion changes with the day. 
 
 There wealth and art are both combined 
 
 To polish and perfect the mind. 
 
 Advantage such she ne'er had seen 
 
 Or to a city ever been. 
 
 Yet deem her not in ways uncouth, 
 
For she was gracefulness in truth. 
 The studied ways and foreign air 
 We often meet in modern fair 
 Formed of her loveliness no part 
 And rarely grace a maiden's heart. 
 'Twas artlessly she lent her aid 
 To Cupid, skillful at his trade, 
 Whose piercing arrows, sure and keen, 
 Cleft many a hunter's heart, I ween. 
 Yet for the wounds none bore her ill, 
 But offered each as target still ; 
 Ev'ry hunter on the border 
 Hoped to be fair Mary's warder. 
 And willingly might one forego 
 Such cares for happiness to know. 
 To him was given a heart and hand 
 Truest and fairest in the land; 
 To keep as hostages how well 
 Let lovers say, and parents tell. 
 
 Youth and beauty were Mary's share; 
 
 Her mother equally was fair; 
 
 Yet Father Time had come apace 
 
 And ta'en away her youthful face. 
 
 Whose semblance once had formed the theme 
 
 Of many a lover's midnight dream; 
 
 And lightly he had touched her head 
 
 With here and there a silver thread. 
 
 And in all ways her altered face 
 
 Bespoke a heart the treasure place 
 
 Of all the family's joys and cares, 
 
 Ample enough for all their shares. 
 
 In all this cheerful group around 
 
 Busier one cannot be found. 
 
8 
 
 Well skilled to use the knitting wands, 
 
 How mystical her willing hands. 
 
 Fashion the woolen yarns as best 
 
 Suits nature's wants and each behest. 
 
 To older ones, some wiser grown, 
 
 Experience has clearly shown 
 
 That stockings not for warmth depend 
 
 On how the various colors blend; 
 
 But 'tis to favor the caprice 
 
 Of little sister Beatrice, 
 
 Who truly thinks that white and blue 
 
 Are warm enough — and pretty too; 
 
 And babies' socks, 'tis saying trite. 
 
 Should be ringed round with red and white; 
 
 So envy none the extra care 
 
 And patience on the little pair 
 
 Which mother has been pleased to take 
 
 All for her own dear baby's sake, 
 
 Upon whose tiny face anon 
 
 As glide the passing moments on 
 
 She fondly looks, with wistful eyes 
 
 And love to guard her darling prize 
 
 That, nestled warm from winter dread 
 
 By mother's side in rocking bed, 
 
 Sleeps soundly with its little dream 
 
 That mother watches o'er the scene 
 
 And will protect from cold and harms 
 
 Her little baby in her arms. 
 
 E'en now the storm still harsher blew 
 And 'gainst the panes the snowflakes flew, 
 Whilst higher twirled from blazing hearth 
 The genial flames, where fireside mirth 
 Oft basked himself despite the gale, 
 
And whiled the time with border tale. 
 But now that welcome voice was still ; 
 No sound was heard save from the hill, 
 Whose moaning winds around it bleak, 
 Strove higher to the mountain's peak. 
 'Twas such a silence none could brook 
 Who pleasures much in stories took 
 And loved to hear recounted o'er 
 The deeds of settlers done before. 
 
 Sometime Will gazed upon the fire; 
 
 Then fixed his eyes on good grandsire, 
 
 Who, half asleep and half awake, 
 
 In the domestic chair of state 
 
 Was nodding, as he oft had done. 
 
 In the old chair disturbed by none. 
 
 E'en Will himself dared scarcely task 
 
 The great obtrusiveness to ask; 
 
 Yet, climbing on his grandpa's knees. 
 
 Said: "Grandpa, tell a story please; 
 
 To do so, once, you promised me 
 
 If I would try a good boy be." 
 
 Then 'round his neck, with childlike grace. 
 
 He threw his arms in warm embrace, 
 
 Repeating still: "Grandpa, do tell 
 
 Of your young days, and what befel 
 
 When first you came a stranger here 
 
 To make your home and hunt the deer." 
 
 "A story, yes," they all replied, 
 
 "That one to us so long denied. 
 
 Which tells us of your varied life, 
 
 So fraught with scenes of forest strife." 
 
10 
 
 GRANDFATHER'S STORY. 
 
 "Of my adventurous life I'll tell; 
 
 Its stirring scenes, remembered well, 
 
 May serve perchance to while the hours 
 
 Within this happy home of ours. 
 
 When I can be no longer here 
 
 To join, with you, our fireside cheer." 
 
 His last remark cast o'er each face 
 
 Of boding grief a darksome trace. 
 
 But quickly now the shades dispel, 
 
 As he begins his tale to tell. 
 
 "A hunter hither first I came 
 
 To dwell, mid plenty forest game. 
 
 Then on these pleasant hillside lawns 
 
 Well slept and frisked the spotted fawns, 
 
 Whilst down within the valley here 
 
 The does fed with the antlered deer. 
 
 And when the shades of evening fell 
 
 Came with them too the panther's yell; 
 
 Or else perchance the piercing scream 
 
 Of mountain cats by rocks and stream 
 
 Was echoed to the distant hills 
 
 And frightened forth the whippoorwills. 
 
 Often within my cabin lone 
 
 I've been awaked by loosened stone. 
 
 Which, started by the shaggy bear. 
 
 Late climbing to his rocky lair, 
 
 Went whirling down the mountainside 
 
 With bound and crash through branches dried, 
 
 Until repeating echoes tell 
 
 Where far down in the vale it fell. 
 
 Again to court sleep's sweet repose 
 
 'Twould be in vain my eyes to close. 
 
II 
 
 Oft thus awake, the midnight hours, 
 When night her sable curtain lowers, 
 Upon my bearskin couch have found 
 Me fast in pleasant rev'ries bound; 
 Or list'ning as came to my room, 
 Borne trembling on the startled gloom, 
 The gray wolf's howl, which called away 
 In chase of new discovered prey 
 His gaunt companions, who the trail 
 To keep the darkest night ne'er fail; 
 As with their tireless pace they fag 
 The proud and nimble fleeing stag. 
 When camped out in the woods by night, 
 My lighted watch fires burning bright, 
 I've heard them come with stealthy tread 
 Quite close beside my leafy bed; 
 Then stop awhile, to sniff the air, 
 And look within the circle's glare; 
 Then start again ; and thus their tramp 
 Would last all night around my camp, 
 Till, scared by light of morning gray. 
 They dash into the woods away. 
 Then I was young, and loved to roam 
 These then wild woods traversed by none 
 Beside the forest's dusky men. 
 The lords of lake and woodlands then. 
 And hardy hunters, bold and true, 
 Who well their wiles to practice knew. 
 My cabin then my rustic home; 
 I thought nor cared for better, none. 
 My memory pictures to me, still. 
 How well it looked beside the hill, 
 Within its shaded forest nook. 
 In sound of a clear tinkling brook. 
 
12 
 
 Which, like a wild sprite, happy thing, 
 Went bounding down with joyous ring. 
 Against its unhewed wall within 
 Was fastened many a different skin 
 Of panther, otter, deer, and bear. 
 Hung 'round in careless contrast there. 
 A pair of branching staghorns wide 
 Above my rude fireplace was tied, 
 Where, idle from the hunt, I hung 
 My horn and rifle in among. 
 My cabin had for hangings none 
 But called to mind some venture done. 
 And told that with my rifle true 
 I brought me sport and profit too. 
 That summer, 'mid these valleys free, 
 The grounds of Leninlenape 
 I roamed, nor saw an Indian's face, 
 Yet often found their trails and trace, 
 Where they had rested for the night 
 Around their campfires kindled bright. 
 
 "As oft, returned from ended chase 
 With weighty spoils and slackened pace. 
 My forest fare enjoyed with zest, 
 I weary sat me down to rest 
 Upon my cabin's rude step stone. 
 To muse on nature's work, alone. 
 'Twas autumn and the leaves were sere 
 With varied colors far and near; 
 The valley shone in russet brown, 
 A mottled landscape far adown. 
 With spots of yellow, red and green. 
 And dancing sunbeams lit the scene. 
 The western sun, with slanting beam, 
 
13 
 
 Covered with twinkling silver sheen. 
 
 The Delaware, which, flowing on. 
 
 Soon in its curving course was gone. 
 
 A thirsty stag the hill descends; 
 
 With cautious, noiseless steps he wends 
 
 His way down to the river's brink 
 
 And bows his antlered head to drink. 
 
 It seemed that Nature here had smiled, 
 
 So picturesque, so grand and wild. 
 
 Lay the whole scene, that it held me 
 
 Enchanted, bound in reverie. 
 
 'Twas ended by a circling smoke 
 
 That upward from the forest broke 
 
 In circles to'rds the azure sky. 
 
 Warning an Indians' camp was nigh. 
 
 Darkness had spread her gloomy cowl 
 
 And boding hooted forth the owl. 
 
 As silently I stole away 
 
 To where the Indians quiet lay. 
 
 Silent as panthers watch the deer 
 
 So silent I, the camp when near. 
 
 Crouched in the uncertain shade 
 
 As by the flick'ring camplight made. 
 
 And careful scanned the lighted space, 
 
 Observing well each form and place. 
 
 It was a war party, returned. 
 
 Which 'gainst a neighb'ring tribe had burn'd 
 
 With deep revenge insatiate, 
 
 Till now they'd quenched their deadly hate. 
 
 'Twas ended with their foeman's life. 
 
 Their arbiters the spear and knife. 
 
 On blankets spread upon the ground 
 
 The Indians scattered lay around 
 
 And stretched their weary limbs to rest 
 
14 
 
 As suited each his comfort best. 
 Against a tree, the sentinel, 
 Who Httle knew that all was well, 
 Sat with his head upon his breast, 
 All sense of care by sleep opprest. 
 Between two painted warriors wild, 
 In fetters sat a chieftain's child. 
 Fast by her arms securely tied. 
 All hope of rescue seemed denied. 
 About her brow was placed a wreath, 
 Her ample hair was free beneath ; 
 In wild disordered locks it lay 
 As left by meddling winds astray. 
 About her form her robe was wound 
 Of wolf's skin, silver, gray, and bound 
 With beaver's fur the edge around. 
 All slept save her; she could not sleep; 
 A captive maid she could but weep. 
 I pitied her, alone, forlorn, 
 A captive from her kindred torn. 
 It nerved my heart to save the maid 
 Though sleeping near her captors laid. 
 My rifle closer then I drew. 
 Upon the ground myself I threw, 
 And slowly crept the Indians near. 
 So close their breathings I could hear, 
 When sudden 'neath my body broke 
 A brittle twig, so loud it woke 
 A brawny savage slumb'ring near; 
 Yet, trusting not his sleepy ear. 
 He turned again in listless doze, 
 Nor dreamed his foeman was so close. 
 Not so the maid, she closely eyed 
 Me slowly stealing near her side. 
 
15 
 
 With noiseless stroke I loosed her bands 
 My hunting knife reached to her hands; 
 Then shadow-like from tree to tree, 
 Till from immediate danger free, 
 Onward we fled with hurried pace 
 And met a warrior face to face. 
 An instant and a shot had passed. 
 That instant they each other clasped 
 In such embrace as lovers give 
 Who doubtful are that either live. 
 He was her father's bravest brave 
 And proffered life his love to save. 
 He'd traced their trail by night and day 
 Over a long and devious way. 
 And, finding where their camp was made, 
 Cautious, was coming for the maid. 
 With speed we reached the river's side. 
 His birchen bark he quick untied; 
 But ere she left, the maid undid 
 Her necklace from her neck, and bid 
 That then her gift I would receive; 
 ' Which when my father sees, believe, 
 He'll cover you with furs and gold 
 And sparkling gems of worth untold.' 
 'Twas spoken from her generous heart. 
 'This necklace's all shall be my part 
 And with your thank's sufficient meed. 
 And much o'er pays me for the deed.' 
 The warrior proffered then his hand, 
 And called to witness stars and land, 
 That firm as rock, e'en to the grave, 
 His friendship for the palefaced brave. 
 Then lightly 'round his birch bark swings. 
 As lightly in the maiden springs; 
 
l6 
 
 A graceful courtesy she made, 
 As, wafted by the ashen blade, 
 The light canoe sped swiftly on 
 And, buried in the gloom, was gone. 
 
 The Coming of an Old Hunter and His Family.. 
 
 "Autumn was gone and winter past 
 
 And with it too the warring blast. 
 
 Boldly the spring began to trace 
 
 The features of his peering face. 
 
 On bush and bank, on bud and tree 
 
 E'en gentle hummed the wildwood bee, 
 
 When, lured by the existing game. 
 
 An old and fearless trapper came. 
 
 His little household all had come 
 
 To share with him his wildwood home, 
 
 The wife with sweet and happy air 
 
 And Sylvia their woodland fair; 
 
 For oft the trapper's glowing tale 
 
 Had told them of his fav'rite vale; 
 
 Where to the silv'ry waters clear. 
 
 Came down and drank the antlered deer; 
 
 Or fed beneath the oak trees tall 
 
 From off the circling mountain wall." 
 
 As he recalled fair Sylvia's name. 
 
 Unbidden then the kind tears came, 
 
 And some looked up and wondered why 
 
 From grandpapa escaped a sigh. 
 
 "Through all this country far and near, 
 
 Beside its winding brooks and clear, '^\ 
 
 Wild plums scattered on the ground, 
 
 As ripened by the sun were found, 
 
 Where broad the elm trees cast their shade 
 
 And twining vines rude arbors made. 
 
17 
 
 Whilst pendent from their branches hung 
 
 Rich purpled clustered grapes among, 
 
 And o'er this range of mountains blue 
 
 With that old trapper, brave and true. 
 
 Oft have I chased the flying prey 
 
 From morning's light, to evening gray; 
 
 And then our camp light's glaring blaze 
 
 Would lighten up the mountain's haze. 
 
 Thus resting from our toilsome chase 
 
 His former life would he retrace, 
 
 Of dangers met that him befel. 
 
 By lake and stream, by rock and dell, 
 
 Till drowsy sleep our senses bound 
 
 In sweet forgetfulness profound. 
 
 Returning from our lengthened hunt. 
 
 Expectant Sylvia was wont 
 
 To come with flying footsteps fleet, 
 
 Her kind and aged sire to meet; 
 
 Then brighten would the old man's face. 
 
 Forgotten be his tired pace. 
 
 For she was all his doting pride. 
 
 None other child had he beside. 
 
 Oft aided by her rustic skill 
 
 For her the wildflowers on the hill 
 
 With cedar sprigs of evergreen 
 
 To gem the flowers in atween, 
 
 I've culled with a delighted care 
 
 For wreaths to bind her bonny hair, 
 
 As she would hasten him to meet 
 
 With glowing cheeks and welcome sweet. 
 
 These she would take with careless care. 
 
 Yet well I marked there was a care; 
 
 Trivial gifts do oft prevail 
 
 To tell of love a wooing tale, 
 
Where princely gifts of fabled price, 
 
 Curious wrought with love's device, 
 
 Leave no more impress on the mind 
 
 Than bursted bubbles on the wind. 
 
 Though master of no magic art 
 
 To work enchantments on the heart, 
 
 Yet ere the moon did wax and wane 
 
 And to the full was come again, 
 
 Seated beneath a spreading shade 
 
 Through which the gentle moonbeams played, 
 
 Spangling the mossy mound below 
 
 Alternately with shade and glow. 
 
 To Sylvia fair I then addressed 
 
 The impulse of my heart's behest. 
 
 ' Tomorrow I shall haste away 
 
 O'er the wild woods, untrodden way. 
 
 Mayhap for e'er I'll absent be; 
 
 Perchance as such condemned by thee. 
 
 Howe'er it be I cannot tell, 
 
 For truly I have loved thee well. 
 
 Perhaps unwisely, then too long. 
 
 Wilt pardon me the generous wrong? 
 
 E'en more Pve dared the lover's part, 
 
 To sue for Sylvia's hand and heart. 
 
 Should your displeasure you decree, 
 
 Forgotten then must Sylvia be. 
 
 No more Pll dream in camp at night 
 
 Of all the future fair and bright. 
 
 With sunny smiles, fair circling arms. 
 
 And Sylvia's soul-inspiring charms. 
 
 On mem'ry then this charmed spell 
 
 Will leave regret without farewell.' 
 
19 
 
 Sylvia: 
 * Unconscious I of all these ills; 
 Fair Sylvia but little wills 
 That you should ever banished be, 
 For love, from happiness and me. 
 Much less tomorrow's earliest ray 
 Such gallant hunter far away 
 Should tortured be with hidden smart, 
 If shield him can a maiden's heart. 
 Should absence in the long spring chase 
 Kind thoughts for Sylvia not erase. 
 Then welcome hie the hunter free 
 To home and happiness and me.' 
 
 Away. 
 "When morning dawned its earliest gleam 
 My light canoe far up the stream 
 The silver ripples cast aside 
 As broke the prow the limpid tide. 
 In early life I learned the skill 
 To guide my light canoe at will 
 Along the gently winding shore 
 Or onward through the rapid's roar. 
 My bark canoe concealed with care, 
 At set of sun I camped me where 
 The mountains rise steep, stern and bare. 
 Grim watchers o'er the Delaware, 
 Where far adown the waters flow 
 As on the merry minstrels go; 
 Exerting still their Orphean skill. 
 They bind the Kittaning at will. 
 Three suns beside the varying shore 
 Constant was plied my dripping oar. 
 Then westward from the running flood 
 
20 
 
 I plunged into the tangled wood. 
 
 Six camps had marked my devious way 
 
 Since from the Delaware it lay. 
 
 The sun his course had nearly run, 
 
 When rose the hidden water's hum, 
 
 And having scaled the mountain's height 
 
 The Susquehanna burst in sight. 
 
 Gently fell each lingering ray 
 
 As mountain-girt Wyoming lay 
 
 Spread out beneath my very feet. 
 
 New beauties each successive greet 
 
 My changing view, as far and wide 
 
 I scan the vale and burnished tide 
 
 Of Susquehanna's sparkling vest 
 
 Reflected from the valley's breast. 
 
 It was a glorious sunset scene 
 
 Mid mountains wild and valleys green. 
 
 Swift to the highlands flocked the birds 
 
 And homeward wound the lowing herds, 
 
 The merry milkmaid trilled her lay, 
 
 The mountains echoed it away, 
 
 And plaintive rose the vesper bleat 
 
 From distant lambkins frisking fleet. 
 
 But see ! The peaceful scene has changed ; 
 
 Where far the outmost mountains ranged 
 
 A troop of horsemen swept in view. 
 
 As the distance lessening grew 
 
 You might descry they'd ridden far; 
 
 Their garb bespoke them from the war. 
 
 On, on they fly across the plain, 
 
 Nor slacken pace, nor slackened rein. 
 
 Though grim with dust and soiled their gear 
 
 They onward urge their wild career 
 
 Till at the garrison they halt 
 
21 
 
 And from their tired coursers vault. 
 Not thus they come in idle sport 
 But something bear of deep import. 
 MingHng with the gathering mass 
 Long time unnoticed thus I pass 
 And learn the news of Border War, 
 Of demon strife and death and scar. 
 For gath'ring fast in wood and glen 
 Are hordes of red and tory men. 
 That ere the waning moon was gone 
 We'd hear of deeds of horror done; 
 As back the circling mountains ring 
 The onset yells in Wyoming. 
 Ere vanished had the morning dew 
 The chiefs in earnest counsel drew 
 And warmly strove in stern debate, 
 For different are the plans they state. 
 Some think t'avert disastrous war 
 Within the fort 'twere better far 
 To wait some messengers delayed 
 And with them too expected aid. 
 Though brave our warriors and true 
 And all that heroes dare can do. 
 Ruin would mark a rash attack, 
 Our vanquished soldiers forced aback 
 'Gainst fearful odds of treacherous foes 
 Must yield in battle's desperate close. 
 Better we'd fall mid battle's strife 
 Than, conquered, lead a captive's life; 
 And worse, our wives and children all 
 Must leave to foes who demons 'pall, 
 With deeds of fierce and cruel strife. 
 With vengeance, torture, blood and knife. 
 Who shout and howl at sight of death 
 
22 
 
 And wrangle for the latest breath. 
 
 Others affirm the doubtful war 
 
 And most uncertain aid from far 
 
 Beset by ambushed Indian scout 
 
 Lurking our garrison about; 
 
 Ere this our messengers had won 
 
 Had not their earthly course been done. 
 
 Ripening is the bearded grain, 
 
 Yellow it waves upon the plain, 
 
 'Twill give our foemen fresh supply; 
 
 Whilst lessening stores our hopes deny 
 
 Support for long remaining here 
 
 Within the fort secure from fear 
 
 Of treacherous wiles or onsets long. 
 
 E'en though our fort were stored and strong. 
 
 Then shall we court starvation's woes 
 
 And famished yield to gathering foes? 
 
 Will listen to the infants' wail, 
 
 As faint they cry a piteous tale 
 
 Of parched breasts; and mother wild 
 
 With anguish o'er her dying child? 
 
 'Mid faces wan and scenes as these 
 
 Can men and soldiers rest at ease? 
 
 Let us seize the auspicious hour 
 
 E'er darker clouds around us lower. 
 
 We in the God of battles trust, 
 
 Nature proclaims our cause is just, 
 
 Our friends, our kindred, loves and life 
 
 Will make us heroes in the strife. 
 
 These with their arguments prevail 
 
 To try our cause in battle's scale. 
 
 Marshalled were our forces then. 
 
 The beardless youths and aged men 
 
 Who had not borne for many a day 
 
 _i_ 
 
23 
 
 The weight of arms, in firm array 
 As men in manhood's strength prepared, 
 And eager in the dangers shared. 
 Butler, the settlers' friend and true, 
 Our little force in order drew, 
 Cheering us with his word and hand. 
 And o'er us held the chief command. 
 Now to advance our orders call 
 And sad adieus are bid to all ; 
 Long from the fort the maids and wives 
 With breaking hearts and tearful eyes 
 Watched our progress o'er the plain, 
 A sight they ne'er might see again. 
 At Wintermoot the foemen are 
 Preparing for the Border War. 
 Came hitherward our scouts with speed 
 And of their swiftness there is need ; 
 For prowling bands have learned of harm 
 And to their kindred bear alarm. 
 All unsurprised in war array 
 We find the foe for battle's fray; 
 As wolves expectant desperate prey. 
 The Tory lines impatient sway, 
 And dusky hordes in war gear trimmed 
 All in their warrior paint begrimed, 
 Can scarcely from the fight refrain 
 While martial law and skill restrain. 
 Such met our ranks. Then, fearful spell, 
 Burst loud and long their onset yell. 
 Gleamed the tomahawks in the sun. 
 Death, strife and carnage have begun. 
 From rank to rank the volleys flew. 
 And mangled corses 'round us strew. 
 Fury and hate join in the strife. 
 
24 
 
 Brother with brother tugs for Hfe, 
 
 And lusty son tor'ds tottering sire 
 
 Know all the force of foeman's ire. 
 
 Where painted braves their war clubs wield 
 
 In misty circles o'er the field, 
 
 Their maniac rage and slaughter tell 
 
 As swift the whirling forces fell. 
 
 Firm set as rock the settlers tried 
 
 To stem the course of battle's tide. 
 
 'Gainst fearful odds 'twas nobly done, 
 
 Hope lent a ray of vict'ry won. 
 
 Delusive hope! Our battle call 
 
 Unheard by some has ruined all. 
 
 Confusion runs along the line, 
 
 The foemen seize the fav'red time; 
 
 Rout, ruin, rapine follow on ; 
 
 Farewell to hopes of vict'ry won. 
 
 Our ranks retreat a scattered mass; 
 
 Some perish in the deep morass; 
 
 Others the woods prefer in flight. 
 
 Trusting to speed till coming night. 
 
 With some we seek the river's side 
 
 And plunge into the downward tide. 
 
 An island's friendly shore to gain; 
 
 Our limbs were plied with might and main. 
 
 Yet ere we reached the tangled side 
 
 Many a struggling comrade died. 
 
 Like dropping hail the bullets fell, 
 
 And loud arose their baffled yell 
 
 Which, ill supprest, the Indians will 
 
 Who saw the trophies of their skill 
 
 Elude their grasp, sink in the tide, 
 
 Nor dangle at the warrior's side. 
 
 The remnant of our scattered force 
 
 
25 
 
 Fortward held a dangerous course. 
 On, on, their weary footsteps fly; 
 The foe is swift and pressing nigh. 
 Friends from the fort the contest view 
 Hope fires the settlers' hearts anew. 
 Instant the doors wide open flew 
 Then closed behind the flying few. 
 
 "Night now has spread her sable pall. 
 A solemn darkness broods o'er all, 
 And many a widowed mother prest 
 Her orphaned child close to her breast. 
 Wept many a maid her grief alone 
 For lover now forever gone. 
 The valley's turf his couch is made 
 And death his corpse has stilly laid. 
 Nor have the foe from ruin turned ; 
 E'en now the settlers' homes are burned. 
 The forked flames dart fierce and high. 
 Roll smoke and embers to'rds the sky. 
 But smouldring ruins o'er the plain 
 Tomorrow'll mark all that remain. 
 Where was the happy settler's hearth 
 Now razed level to the earth. 
 The moon her nightly course has run 
 And comes again the honest sun, 
 Melting the treacherous gloom of night, 
 Which hid, but not erased, a sight 
 That filled Wyoming's charming vale. 
 At sights as that the bravest pale; 
 Maidens in vain their fears repress; 
 Matrons instinctive closer press 
 Their offspring in maternal clasp 
 As though to save from threatened grasp 
 
26 
 
 Of ruthless ones, who'd tear away 
 Their present hopes and future stay. 
 No loitering schoolboy on the way 
 Then whiled his wasting time in play, 
 Nor twanged the early mower's scythe 
 As swung by rustic reapers blithe. 
 The kine are slaughtered one and all ; 
 The steed, untied, has fled his stall. 
 And wasting fast in wreaths of flame 
 Is the ungathered golden grain. 
 All that enriched and pleased and cheered 
 The valesmen's homes have disappeared. 
 Ruin and desolation wide 
 Mark their trace on every side. 
 Plundering bands and sweeping flame 
 Have devastated all the plain. 
 And gathered is the horde once more 
 In groups, the garrison before. 
 In numbers small, of hope bereft, 
 To the besieged all that is left 
 Is stern defense as warriors can. 
 Wasting in numbers man by man. 
 Lasts life and limb to strike a blow, 
 They shout defiance at the foe, 
 And leave in death heroic fame 
 To rouse avengers to their name. 
 
 " But hear! The foe now generous are 
 And parley thus to end the war. 
 O'er earned is now the victor's meed, 
 For future strife none is the need, 
 And to avert more bloody scenes 
 Be this our common choice and means: 
 Secure from further warlike harms 
 
27 
 
 If yielded is each warrior's arms, 
 Babes and children, defenders all. 
 Now compassed by defiant wall 
 Shall go released, unscathed and free; 
 These lands endeared their home shall be, 
 Provided none with hostile arm 
 Shall seek our future wrong or harm. 
 Unbolted is the guarding bar, 
 Delivered are the arms of war, 
 Within exultant victors go, 
 Commingle now the friend and foe. 
 
 " Oh, direful trust! Oh, fatal spell! 
 Treachery pealed her signal yell 
 And dark revenge renews the strife. 
 Nor spares the aged, the maid or wife. 
 Unheeded are the mother's cries, 
 Her outstretched arms and tearful eyes. 
 The glittering blade but glimmers high. 
 And stills in death her piteous cry. 
 Age, strength and beauty fare ye well. 
 Ye perish in the demon spell. 
 ' Defenseless all, without a cause, 
 Yet sacrificed 'gainst honor's laws,' 
 Though some at scenes as these elate, 
 The brave and good lament thy fate. 
 And often 'round the border hearth 
 Will run a chill to fireside mirth 
 As some relate the tragic tale 
 Of once Wyoming's happy vale. 
 
 Part 6th. Return. 
 "Three suns the islands covert shade 
 Secure my place of refuge made. 
 
28 
 
 Thrice came the Indians searching near, 
 Thrice their departing steps I hear. 
 As soon as night grew dark apace, 
 Wary I left my hiding place, 
 Reached once again the river's tide; 
 My wearied Hmbs were noiseless plied. 
 Awhile I held the river's course, 
 Borne swiftly on its watery force, 
 'Till, more immediate danger o'er, 
 I drew me to the welcome shore. 
 
 "Watching and hunger, wet and care 
 For future toil did ill prepare. 
 Yet hope and danger urge me on 
 At once into the woods be gone. 
 Lonely, I wound my darksome way, 
 Save where the frightened deer away 
 Sped swiftly through the brushy wood, 
 Or rabbit in my pathway stood 
 With ears erect and timid eye, 
 Till near approached; then frightened, fly. 
 In doubtful circles, 'mong the trees. 
 To safer haunts 'neath bush or leaves. 
 
 "The sun had coursed across the sky 
 And shades of night were gathering nigh. 
 As entered was a deep ravine 
 With lofty elms the sides between. 
 When passing down its gloomy way, 
 * Tu-whit tu-whoo,' a watcher gray 
 Spoke solemn from o'erhanging tree. 
 And mournful seemed the gloom to be. 
 Still farther in the darkest shade 
 Alone my secret camp I made, 
 
29 
 
 Where closer branches lace and tie, 
 Defiant to the searching eye. 
 My rusted rifle warmed and dried, 
 The charge renewed, and by my side. 
 My trusted friend if needs might seem, 
 I laid me down to sleep and dream. 
 A wolf returning to his lair 
 Found a strange comrade waiting there. 
 Twelve suns their course had almost run, 
 Nor my adventure journey done. 
 When to the Eastward, far away, 
 My vale-encircling mountains lay. 
 Oh pleasant sight! to me most dear, 
 Again my partial haunts appear. 
 
 "The moon had gone far up the sky, 
 The stars were twinkling soft and shy. 
 And a few embers flick'ring shone 
 When I had reached the trapper's home. 
 Eager, I struck the oaken door, 
 The stag hound crouched upon the floor, 
 And low, then gave a smothered growl, 
 As though intruders round did prowl. 
 Instant, the wary trapper woke; 
 Grasping his rifle, thus he spoke: 
 'Who comes so late? A friend or foe? 
 By this his friendship I will know: 
 The unbarred door swing open wide, 
 Enter within my cabin's side. 
 A foe in want, much more a friend 
 Lost or bewildered, I'll befriend.' 
 Relighted was the torch of pine 
 The hunter's hand grasped warm in mine; 
 And Sylvia too did winsome come 
 
30 
 
 To glad the weary hunter home. 
 To ears intent, I then did tell 
 Of the adventures which befel 
 In hunt and toil and battle's fray 
 Since from the hunter's home away. 
 Ere yet the thrilling tale was done 
 The early beams of day had come 
 And on the mountain tops and spray 
 The morning dews had fled away. 
 
 Building Our Home. 
 "Autumn had worn his varied vest, 
 Old winter too had gone to rest. 
 The while a settler's axe I plied 
 And near the trapper's lodge beside, 
 Where waved once the spreading wood, 
 Thereon my rustic cabin stood, 
 And, Sylvia presiding, seemed 
 Our mutual vows had been redeemed. 
 
 "Time added settlers to our band. 
 The dark woods faded from the land, 
 And timid lambs fed on the green 
 Where startled once the panther's scream. 
 Then these fair lands and waters clear 
 Inspired the name of Belvidere. 
 Our present home had grown too small, 
 Enlarged had been its roof and wall. 
 Daughters and sons of border worth 
 Had gathered round our cheerful hearth. 
 And Sylvia wore a plainer face, 
 A nobler mien and statelier grace; 
 Yet held withal the power to please — 
 Autumn but beautifies the leaves. 
 
 R u l^.B ^ 
 
31 
 
 Ten snows and nine had wreathed our home 
 
 And wintry blasts again had come. 
 
 As now the fire blazed warm and clear 
 
 And gave a zest to evening's cheer, 
 
 When an old Indian crossed our door 
 
 And strode the blazing hearth before. 
 
 Abrupt our social pleasures broke; 
 
 In the brief interval he spoke: 
 
 'The pale face hears the drifting snow, 
 
 Must the lone Indian further go? 
 
 My wigwam's blaze once welcomed me; 
 
 Alas! again it cannot be. 
 
 Wilt share with me thy wigwam's flame 
 
 Till coming day is once again?' 
 
 His boon was granted ; soon as asked 
 
 We gave him of our plain repast, 
 
 Welcomed him beneath our roof. 
 
 And of our friendship gave him proof, 
 
 By kindly words and kindly deed ; 
 
 For present care none was the need. 
 
 Weary, he slept 'till break of day. 
 
 Then girt his blanket to away; 
 
 Yet paused awhile, as though his heart 
 
 Besides his thanks would some impart. 
 
 Grasping his wither'd hand in mine, 
 
 * Behold ' said he ' the Riven Pine. 
 
 'Tis many moons since first we met. 
 
 That meeting I cannot forget. 
 
 It was at midnight's lonely hour, 
 
 A maiden in the Mohawk's power. 
 
 The pale face then returned to me 
 
 The song bird of the Lennape. 
 
 'Twas then that Windfoot made a vow, 
 
 And he has kept it true, till now; 
 
:P 24'l9l2 
 
 32 
 
 His friendship for the pale-faced brave 
 
 Would lasting be e'en to the grave. 
 
 My sons have yielded each his life; 
 
 Like braves they fell in battle's strife. 
 
 Song Bird lives in the Spirit home, 
 
 Yet Windfoot lingers here alone. 
 
 My wigwam's fire is cold and gray, 
 
 And wastes the warrior's arm away. 
 
 No longer my request delay. 
 
 Great Spirit, welcome me away 
 
 To fairer lands and sunnier skies, 
 
 Where the brave Indian never dies. 
 
 Unbowed by toil, un vexed by care 
 
 He ever breathes a purer air. 
 
 Soon midst those ever-blooming trees 
 
 The Song Bird of the Lennapes, 
 
 More beauteous now, will bounding come 
 
 And greet me to her Spirit Home.' 
 
 Not yet did Windfoot leave our home. 
 
 When the winds of May sighed soft and bland 
 
 Windfoot went to the spirit land. 
 
 The wasting mound, on yonder hill, 
 
 Marks the lone grave of Windfoot still." 
 
 Finis. 
 
 Dedicated to my Granddaughter 
 VERNA CLARE CHANDLER. 
 
 
 
 
J^L 
 
.-iy V 
 
 
 ■p^. 
 
 4- 
 
 > o 
 
 A 
 
 
 ^■^ 0^ ! ^ 
 
 ^: 
 
 "•--"''v' 
 -5^^.-: 
 
 /j?-\^' 
 
 '■>■ 
 
 <^. 
 
 
 •':% 
 
 iS" "oS 
 
 .^^ 
 
 i^ 
 
 .-^r^- 
 
 O ^e,.' .0-' V *oTo' 
 
 .^^ 
 
 ^.^. ! 
 
 V 
 
 .^y^^^. 
 
 -i^ 
 
 .^^ 
 
 -.-* 
 
 :" ^^--^ 
 
 ON" x-^ 
 
 V 
 
 \^ 
 
 ./ j^ci; 
 
 ^ 
 
 s^".^. 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 <i>. 
 
 .0^ 
 
 •! 
 
 ^^ ..^'' 
 
 
 > 
 
 9^' 
 
 ^ 
 
 v" 
 
 0/ j^^'\ ^^^^:^- ^'^^ ^ 
 
 . " . -^o 
 
 S 
 
 
 'o . * >> 
 
 ° " ° -^^' 
 
 
 
 --^;^/','. 
 
 
 
 > '!^ * * A^ 
 
 ^ 
 1 
 

 
 -^s.,^^ : 
 
 .^^'^. 
 
 
 
 
 •A ^ 
 
 ^0 . ^- 
 
 
 < o 
 
 -.■^^•-f/- 
 
 
 
 <;' 
 
 
 .-?■' 
 
 . 9 
 
 .<^ 
 
 V-0^ 
 
 
 
 / 
 
 °<. 
 
 ^..^' 
 
 
 
 ■'\. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 - -. • A U <^ " 3 « O -, 
 
 -r -^ 
 
 .^/ ^^ 
 
 .V 
 
 
 
 
 .^' 
 
 r^^r 
 
 :^- 
 
 
 >P- 
 
 5> *o«o' <;, 
 
 
 t^, ..\ 
 
 
 .v 
 
 
 n-^O^ 
 
 \^ 
 
 
 
 vP 
 
 
 x^v 
 
 
 5.^--^^ 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 
 
 .^ 
 
 o 
 
 .-^>' v^;^.^:*: 
 
 D03BS BROS. 
 
 LIBRARY BINDING 
 
 ^ ST. AUGUSTINE 
 
 ^^ r. O " O ^ 'O 
 
 
 "■'^, 
 
 
 -v^^ 
 
 
 <'.