3Imiu;iKMt erocto.l in Court House yarl Fulton, Mo, by 
 lU V. W. H ]!iri liniu 
 
ASSACUS 
 
 OR 
 
 ^ OEATH OF GAPT, 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM BOCKS RIGG 
 
 LEADER PRESS 
 
 New Florence, Mo. 
 

 ^2> 
 
 CopyrisliteQ 1918 
 W. B. Rigg. 
 
 CGLA314959 
 
iLLU STRAT i NS. 
 
 monument 
 wildwood 1812 
 privates' grave 
 prairie fork 
 a lone waste 
 the sepulcher 
 
 "wild WOOD" 1912 
 SALEM RUINS 
 
 §LXXXIII. 
 § LVIII. 
 § XC. 
 § XC. 
 
 Frontispiece. ^ 
 p. 10. '^ 
 21.v^ 
 27.^ 
 36.^ 
 45. v' 
 69. '^ 
 60. ^ 
 
OONTENTS, 
 
 PART I. NATURE. 1. 
 
 PART II. PASSION. 11. 
 
 PART III. VENGEANCE. 33. 
 
 PART IV. DESTINY. 57. 
 
 PART V. REVELATION. 67. 
 
connissioN. 
 
 Go on thy mission of story. 
 Thou child of my metrical mind: 
 
 Nor hope for a passage hut glory. 
 Since thou art what thou wilt find. 
 
DBDI CATION 
 
 To T. 1-. Cardwell, lifelong friend, 
 At whose suggestion fifth part took 
 
 Its present form, 1 now extend 
 The dedication of this book. 
 
 ^J'he Author. 
 
PROKH. 
 
 No fact iliat is Icnowii to tlie authoi' discloses 
 Kelatifni of him and this Lioiitonant Piigg: 
 
 But the ghide where the dust of the Captain reposes 
 Is familiar to mind as the leaf to the twig. 
 
 And his infantile ears full oftentimes tingled 
 At the stories of blood that the aged could tell; 
 
 When the wine, reminiscence, in rivalry mingled. 
 The feats of their heroes wonld wantonly swell. 
 
 The task. then, was pleasant to wea\e in their story 
 A fabulous one of the Pequots' remains. 
 
 But no hint that is false therein sullies their glory. 
 Xor omission of ti'utli theii' memory stains. 
 
 'Tis a blending of colors to l)etter attract 
 '1 he eye of the I'eader and soul of the man: 
 
 riiat the redmau's a fancy and white one a fact. 
 Without an exception, throuout the whole plan. 
 
SASSACUS 
 
Part 1. 
 
 SHE fading sunset's golden hue 
 Supplaced the even's azure blue, 
 And palely cast its somber beams 
 Across the wooded hills and streams, 
 Before its last departing ray 
 Should mark the passage of the day, 
 And in the stars' pale, silvery light 
 Resign the throne of Earth to night; 
 When, thru the boughs of stately trees - 
 That rustled gently in the breeze, 
 And sighed, as if their hearts within 
 Were burdened with the curse of sin. 
 And held the privilege to think 
 And from their spirits' sorrows .-shrink - 
 Upon a scene of savage woe 
 it east its final paling glow. 
 
SASSACUS OR 
 
 II. 
 
 Its rays belit a virgin land, 
 Uncultured by the people's hand, 
 That, building for a nation's pride, 
 Strew desolation every side 
 Upon the beauties Nature gives 
 Where only Nature's offspring lives. 
 III. 
 
 The rolling river, rippling rill, 
 The grassy plain and timbered hill. 
 All smile in gladness, praise to sing 
 To Lord and Master, Maker, King. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Down just between the hillock's base 
 And where the river's waters trace 
 Their onward current to the sea, 
 Beneath a large, outspreading tree, 
 A child of Nature, stoic, still, 
 Stood, looking toward the shadowed hill 
 Upon his face no sign of pain 
 A place his will allowed to gain; 
 
•DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 
 
 For pity, passion, pleasure, pride, 
 All are his people wont to hide: 
 E'en tho the very soul be wrung, 
 A sterner care must guard the tongue. 
 
 V. 
 
 That savage breast contained a heart— 
 A soul to claim eternal part 
 With those of better favored lands 
 To whom God gave His own commands; 
 A mind to know, a love to feel, 
 A life to live and fate to seal, 
 A thought to please and part to do 
 As sacred as are these to you. 
 And if that part be ill or well, 
 Who is the judge with right to tell? 
 Can he with ignorance his own 
 Essay to that he 's never known? 
 Can he who never saw a Hght 
 Dptermine when 't is day or nio-ht? 
 (Dr he who never knew a law 
 Dis(^ern a simi3ie inati net's flaw? 
 
SASSACUS OR 
 
 As well to say that God has made 
 The sun to shine and moon to shade, 
 Because the greater orb of day 
 Can dim the lesser light away. 
 As well to say the mountain height 
 Was made the lower plain to blight, 
 Because its caps of melting snow 
 Are undirected in their flow 
 Until by man's inventive hand 
 They fructify the arid land. 
 
 VI. 
 Such thoughts as these did not oppress 
 His mind. A wild and dire distress 
 Surged madly thru his massive frame 
 And wrung his heart with pain, while 
 
 shame 
 For what by him could not be turned, 
 Deep in his haughty spirit burned- 
 Pride of a nation's vaunted strength, 
 That fawning policy thru length 
 And breadth of all a wide ranged land 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWA Y. 5 
 
 Had courted at his fathers' hand. 
 
 The price of peace, prosperity 
 
 Of thriving burg, celerity 
 
 Of justice in the hunting wood 
 
 For plenty of the wild man's food 
 
 For frail pappoose and burdened squaw. 
 
 Were but the gifts to might as law. 
 
 And he, the heir to such a race, 
 
 Must turn his back, conceal his face. 
 
 And seek in solitude and shame 
 
 What once his right of birth would claim. 
 
 VIL 
 
 Sassacus, a hero's name 
 'T is thine the privilege to claim; 
 But tho the heart be thrice as brave, 
 Where are the hands thy fate to save? 
 Resistance made thy namesake great. 
 But served thy people's strength to break. 
 Till thou, a prince of royal blood. 
 Must share the shewolf's scanty food, 
 Thy wigwam in the welkin find, 
 
SASSACUS OR 
 
 And make thy bunk of Nature's kind. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 As thru long years he thus had strayed, 
 To care unknown and unallayed 
 The deeper yearnings of a soul, 
 That, empty, ever longs to hold 
 That which is not nor ever can 
 Be had, as is the wont of man, 
 There, thru it all, one stood to share 
 The everything Fate brought to bear, 
 Till each had come to feel the other 
 More as himself than as a brother. 
 
 IX. 
 
 But now the numb of death's deep chill 
 Has calmed the unsubmissive will, 
 And called to halt the light, swift feet. 
 That time had never made retreat 
 A minimum of strength nor speed 
 Thru all their years of trying need; 
 And here, where falls the call of heaven. 
 As unprepared, the heed is given. 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 
 
 A hut of sticks o'erthatched with bark. 
 And where within was damp and dark, 
 Upon a fur stretched on the ground, 
 A king- his dying bed had found. 
 Wanderers from their land of birth. 
 And strangers to the men of Earth. 
 He iind his nephew here alone, 
 For years no other friend had known. 
 
 X. 
 
 And now the hour of death was near, 
 He bore no weakly pains of fear. 
 As woe in life had been his own, 
 He shrank not from the great unknown, 
 But, trusting in a greater Power, 
 Most meekly waited life's last hour. 
 
 XL 
 
 When Night had mounted to her throne. 
 And all the world seemed hushed and 
 
 lone. 
 Before the forest fiends should break 
 Their bestial babel. Earth to wake, 
 
SASSACUS OR 
 
 The silent watcher on the hill, 
 So long in meditation still, 
 Turned slowly, with a prince's pride, 
 And sought his kinsman's bed inside. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Within the wigwam, dank and dark, 
 A slender flame from sticks and bark 
 Threw out a kind of somber haze, 
 Where darkness overcame its rays 
 Above the cold, recumbent form 
 This earthly heat could never warm; 
 And seated low beside the couch, 
 While taking from a leathern pouch 
 The herbs from which he steeped the teas 
 That Sachems taught would pains appease, 
 Young Sassacus, in stoic calm. 
 Essayed to seek a healing balm 
 For this dear life— by nature dear. 
 Yet brought by troubles thrice as near. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The silent figure seemed to move. 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 
 
 What! did that gesture disapprove? 
 The lifted hand forbids to make 
 What failing- life can never take, 
 Then, rising on a palsied arm, 
 Reclines his head upon the charm 
 That keeps the spirit in its home 
 Until its final moments come; 
 And in the failing voice of death 
 Disclosed this tale v/itb sobbing breath: 
 

 
 Part II. 
 
 PASSION, 
 
 XIV. 
 
 9 • /% Sassacus, Sassacus, son of thy 
 sire, 
 Whose heart is a furnace, whose 
 veins 
 flow with fire, 
 Behold from thy wigwam a brother is 
 
 gone; 
 Go forth on the mountain and weep for 
 
 thy own, 
 Tuspaquin has fallen and gone with his 
 
 race 
 To rest in the light of the Great Spirit's 
 face. 
 
 XV. 
 
 "Thy people were mighty, but mightier 
 came. 
 
12 S A S S A C U S OR 
 
 Who have robbed thee of all save thy 
 
 manhood and name. 
 And, now I am going-, thy steps are alone 
 Of all the great Pequots the ages have 
 
 known. 
 Then walk in the glory that others have 
 
 made, 
 Which is meet to thy soul as is cool to the 
 
 shade; 
 And go as thou hast when thou wentst by 
 
 my side 
 Thru all of the perils that us did betide, 
 Till, coming, at last of thy mission to tell, 
 Depart from this sphere with thy fathers 
 
 to dwell. 
 But hearken in earnest the words I would 
 
 say 
 Before the brave's spirit is taken away; 
 For even is here and approacheR the 
 
 night. 
 

 js^ 
 
 g«*-^J 
 
 >.. 
 
 
 
 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 13 
 
 When from the cold body the spirit in 
 
 flight 
 Must seek a new hunting ground, happy 
 
 and blest, 
 Where game will be plenty, my wigwam 
 
 the best, 
 And, back from the ranges, light-hearted 
 
 and free, 
 I'll rest where Teweelema ever will be, 
 And dwell in the sun of the Great Spirit's 
 
 smile, 
 While I train to the sports fair Tewee- 
 
 lema's child. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 ''Then take to thy breast all the pain I 
 
 have borne 
 To revenge on thy foe every wound that 
 
 is torn 
 In the heart that was near thee in chase 
 
 or at war: 
 
14 SASSACUS OR 
 
 For thy life is for naught but thy foe's 
 life to mar. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 "Long, long moons ago. ere the pale- 
 faces came 
 
 To convert all the red people's pride into 
 shame. 
 
 There lived a great people, whose war- 
 riors of blood 
 
 Were as many to count as the leaves of 
 the wood; 
 
 Whose mai'dens— as many -sang songs of 
 the chase 
 
 When they brought of its fruits to the 
 Great Spirit's face, 
 
 Beseeching his bounty that ever had come 
 
 To favor their needs in their wild forest 
 home. 
 
 So the squaws of the wigwam were gen- 
 tle and fair. 
 
DEATH OP CAP'T CALLAWAY. 15 
 
 And the prize of the hunt they were fain 
 
 to prepare 
 For the lords of the mountain, the woods 
 
 and the plain, 
 Who the might of their tribe with the 
 
 bow did sustain, 
 Ere the palefaces' fire shed its glimmer 
 
 of doom. 
 And its thundering voice spoke the red 
 
 race its tomb. 
 But the \vhite people came, and the In- 
 dian, a friend, 
 Saved the lives that would take all he 
 
 had in the end. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 ''So the braves that despised what the 
 
 weaker ones bore 
 Went away to a home on the wild ocean's 
 
 shore, 
 Where they built up a tribe that the Pe- 
 
 quots was named. 
 
16 S A S S A C U S O R 
 
 And the first chief they knew, whom his 
 
 valor had famed. 
 Was thy sire, and his own is the name 
 
 thou dost bear, 
 For the blood in thy veins from his own 
 
 thou dost share. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 '"His warriors were mift'hty and brave- 
 ly opposed 
 
 The rapid advance of their pale featured 
 foes; 
 
 But the strength of the re<iman all lay in 
 his arms. 
 
 So could not withstand all his white 
 brothers' charms 
 
 In the battle, nor his prov>'ess at war, 
 
 For foemen when brothers the bitterest 
 are. 
 
 So Sassacus' son was then driven to roam 
 
 Afar from the haunts of his fathers' old 
 home. 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 17 
 
 XX. 
 
 "His young men were few but were 
 
 faithful in heart, 
 And preferred roaming Hves to their 
 
 weak brothers' part. 
 Who remained in the shade of the white 
 
 people's frowns, 
 And were made but the serfs of the 
 
 country of towns. 
 
 XXL 
 
 ' 'So these few with the maidens who 
 
 shared in their lot. 
 Moved away to the West where the white 
 
 man was not. 
 But the braves fell away in the fight and 
 
 the chase. 
 While no son's growing hand came to fill 
 
 up their place; 
 And the squaws did repine and their 
 
 spirits were sad 
 
18 SASSA CUS OR 
 
 For the things that were not that their 
 
 infancy had. 
 Till at length of the host but a warrior 
 
 remained, 
 Who his lineal descent from this chieftain 
 
 obtained. 
 So this man to the tent of the Foxes re- 
 paired, 
 And the warmth of their wigwams in 
 
 charity shared; 
 And he came to be great, for so great 
 
 was his blood. 
 Till he ruled in the tribe of these men of 
 
 the wood. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 "But his wigwam was lonely, his veni- 
 son undried, 
 
 Since no squaw of his people e'er sat at 
 his side. 
 
 When the even grew shady his wigwam 
 was still. 
 
DE ATH Oh CAF"! CALLA WAY. 19 
 
 And the heart of his bosonri with yearn- 
 ing- was ill; 
 
 So he spoke to the chief that his daught- 
 er was fair, 
 
 And desired she would come to his sohtude 
 share. 
 
 She looked on the brave who was mighty 
 in name. 
 
 And was proud to be wife of this 
 warrior of fame. 
 
 XXIIL 
 
 '*The sons that she gave to succeed to 
 
 his place 
 Were the sole living men of the proud 
 
 Pequot race. 
 Who could count their descent from tiie 
 
 first mighty one. 
 That was king of his race at the rise of 
 
 the sun. 
 Your father was first of these sons who 
 
 were two. 
 
20 SASSACUS OR 
 
 And the other, myself, leaves the race 
 now in you. 
 
 But no hope can I hold more from you 
 there will spring, 
 
 For no squaw to your lodge happy child- 
 ren may bring. 
 
 Since the Foxes are broken— must soon 
 know the fate 
 
 Of the Pequots, altho' now their Black 
 Hawk is great. 
 
 And the squaws of the Sacs now bemoan 
 for the brave. 
 
 Who no more bless the homes that they 
 perished to save. 
 
 Their tepees are empty, their warriors 
 are gone, 
 
 The maidens are faded, and children un- 
 known. 
 
 While the few that are living vv'ould curse 
 with the breath 
 

 p ft* 
 
 o; 3' 
 
 If 
 
 cc 
 
 »: 
 
DEATH OF CAF'T CALLAWAY. 2l 
 
 That is falling away in the numbness of 
 
 death 
 Every thought that would spring in the 
 
 innermost soul 
 Of villages happy in pleasures of old. 
 Every one now must engage in a chase 
 That is ruled by the power of the Great 
 
 Spirit's face, 
 Till the last one will die as the beasts of 
 
 the field 
 With but Death by his couch when his 
 
 spirit shall yield, 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 "And so must you, Sassacus, son of 
 your sire, 
 
 Unless at the hands of your foes you ex- 
 pire. 
 
 Then swear by the shades that have gone 
 on before 
 
 From the heroic deaths of your fathers 
 of yore. 
 
22 S A S S A C U S OR 
 
 Whatever may come, you will keep in 
 your breast, 
 
 And remember till death, all Tuspaquin's 
 behest; 
 
 And, if you should perish before it's com- 
 plete 
 
 Then of your associates it's furtherance 
 entreat. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 'The few of the Foxes that yet do re- 
 main. 
 
 With those of the Sacs that are brothers 
 in pain. 
 
 Will hear from your lips of the white 
 man's content. 
 
 While seeking for wampum, that's all of 
 his bent, 
 
 When I have bet?n laid in a warrior's re- 
 pose, 
 
 Relieved from a life of misfortunes and 
 woes. 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 23 
 
 And eased from the wound thiit is rack- 
 ing my frame, 
 
 That the breast of my Mother her own 
 will reclaim. 
 
 Then you must return to the fort on the 
 Isle: 
 
 With cunning- their braves from its safe- 
 ty beguile. 
 
 And take in revenge for the scalp they 
 have won 
 
 The locks from the head of some dearly 
 loved son. 
 
 Whose mother will wait for the coming 
 in vain 
 
 Of him who will nevermore come home 
 again. 
 
 And hang at your belt of these trophies 
 of blood 
 
 Three more for Tuspaquin, your uncle, 
 who would 
 
24 S A S S A C U S U It 
 
 Be fighting beside you and claim all his 
 
 own, 
 But that by their missiles his spirit is 
 
 flown. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 "But there is another charge, greater 
 
 to me 
 Than life and its troubles, or death seems 
 
 to be. 
 When I was a youth that roamed free in 
 
 the wild. 
 Your mother first taught you the steps of 
 
 a child. 
 But when I had battled the wolf in its 
 
 lair; 
 And wore as my trophies the claws of the 
 
 bear, 
 The chieftains were proud of the youth 
 
 they had known, 
 And counted me one in the ranks of their 
 
 own. 
 
DEATH OF CAFT CALLAWAY. 
 
 'Twas then that I swore that my living 
 
 should be 
 My father to follow— my people to free 
 From all of the enemies them that beset, 
 And claim but the fame that such honors 
 
 beget. 
 
 xxvn. 
 "There dwelt in the wigw^amof Thebas, 
 
 her sire, 
 A maiden as fair as is Fancy's desire. 
 The heart of Tuspaquin was drawn by 
 
 her face. 
 And yearned that she find in his wigwam 
 
 a place. 
 But he knew not a way that his passion 
 
 could name, 
 For her father was great as a sachem of 
 
 fame. 
 But Teweelema smiled when he won in 
 
 the chase: 
 
*^^ i^ A S S A <' U S O It 
 
 At the powwow was pleased when she 
 looked on his face. 
 
 When the war party gathered to vie in 
 the dance, 
 
 She was close to the ring- with encourag- 
 ing glance; 
 
 And her eyes praised him much when the 
 dancing was done. 
 
 And her smile showed her glad when 
 Tuspaquin had won. 
 XXVIII. 
 
 "The scalps that he took won him 
 
 fame in the town, 
 x'\nd the people received him a brave of 
 
 renown. 
 So he set up the rocks where Teweel- 
 
 ema walked, 
 As the wont of the braves v/hen their 
 
 hearts' spirits talked; 
 And he lay in the shade when she past 
 
 in the eve 
 
DEATH OF CAF'T CALLAWAY. 27 
 
 As he hoped a return of his love to re- 
 ceive. 
 
 Her maidens were with her and past on 
 before, 
 
 Not seeing the rocks that their robes 
 rustled o'er. 
 
 Teweeiema came with the tread of a fay 
 
 And knelt by the side of the rocks by the 
 way. 
 
 His totem upon them could plainly be 
 seen, 
 
 And v/ith unconcerned conciousness v/alk- 
 ed she between, 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 ' 'Then Thebas was gracious and called 
 me his son, 
 Saying future must shade o'er the past I 
 had done. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 "So off to the hunt that my lodge 
 might be filled 
 
28 S A S S x\ C U !? OK 
 
 To furnish Teweelema game I had killed: 
 
 With the strength of the tril>e went I off 
 to the West, 
 
 Or my soul had been then with Teweel- 
 ema blest: 
 
 For up from the South came the demons 
 of flame 
 
 To slay squaws and children and boast of 
 
 the shame. 
 
 Had I but have been there my treasure 
 to guard, 
 
 The white devils sure would have found 
 it more hard. 
 
 For I with Teweelema there would have 
 died. 
 
 Or saved her for'er in my lodge to abide. 
 But the arm that would save was a wan- 
 derer far, 
 
 And Teweelema died as a victim of war. 
 xxxi. 
 "A soldier that stood in the midst of 
 the fray 
 

DEATH OF CAJ:'"r CALLAWAY. 29 
 
 Was a prisoner of mine at a much later 
 
 day. 
 The fagots that burned round the stake 
 
 where he stood 
 Loosed his tongue till he told all the story 
 
 he could. 
 And he said that a 'Xongknife" who lead 
 
 in the fight 
 Slew the squaw of my heart with a sword 
 
 in his sight 
 And he told that she stood o'er the form 
 
 of her sire, 
 While the world seemed to burn with the 
 
 palefaces' fire; 
 And she drew back the bow that her 
 
 father's cold hand 
 Nevermore could bestring in defense of 
 
 his land, 
 Till the home of her race was alive with 
 
 the foe. 
 
30 S A S S A C U fc> OK 
 
 And her few warrior kin were in death 
 
 lying low, 
 When the horse of the white fiend was 
 
 reined by her side, 
 And a blow from his sword smote her 
 
 down where she died. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 "The white men I loathed with the ut- 
 termost hate, 
 But then I detested with rancor to sate, 
 As full in my heart as its furies could 
 
 dwell— 
 As deep in my soul as the palefaces' hell 
 E'en now in my breast is a tempest of ire, 
 Consuming my soul like a furnace ofrfire. 
 Which burns with a fury that nothing can 
 
 flood 
 Save only the flow of that soldier's life- 
 blood. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 "It cannot be quenched; my strength 
 lessens fast. 
 
iJEAJ H OF CAF'T (.^ALLAVVAV . 31 
 
 And all of my troubley will quickly be 
 
 past. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 "That I may rest undisturbed over 
 
 there, 
 Where Tevs-eelema's waiting my wigwam 
 
 to share, 
 Take on to yourself all the vows I have 
 
 given, 
 And yet claim the scalplock for which I 
 
 have striven. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 "In L'Outre Isle Fort, where the white 
 
 warriors stay, 
 There lives this bold Captain, they call 
 
 Callaway. 
 First learn you the man, then capture the 
 
 prize 
 Which Death in its hurry myown self 
 
 denies." 
 
Part hi. 
 
 VENGEAMOJ?:. 
 XXXVI. 
 
 SHE numbing lips refused to move, 
 Alike if hate or love approve. 
 
 And sinking' from his friend away 
 The dying v/arrior fainting lay. 
 All thru the chilly hours of night, 
 Lone Sassacus in murky light, 
 Sat by his listless kinsman's form. 
 That Death would chill and Life would 
 
 v'arm. 
 The calm upon his patient face 
 Had never borne a single trace 
 To shov/ a thought of pride or pain— 
 A fear of loss or hope of gain. 
 He knew the steady hand of Death, 
 Nor waited it with bated breath. 
 
S A S S A U S <J K 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 To him existence was a thought 
 That facts of change but little fraught 
 V/ith more of weight, for mattered slight- 
 Whatever came to him was right. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Still thus he sat when day begun 
 Showed in the east the risen sun. 
 And v/rapt the hills, so vague at night. 
 In mystic robes of amber light. 
 But ere the zenith's path it trod, 
 Tuspaquin's soul was with his God. 
 But Sassacus no sorrow said 
 When paying homage due his dead; 
 Still held the same grim nerve of steel 
 That knows of naught but how to feel, 
 Until the grave was wholly made. 
 With stone for pick and stick for spade. 
 Then placed the warrior on his knee, 
 As his Wicondah he would see; 
 The unstrung bow is near his hand. 
 
DEATH OF CAF'T CALLAWAi. 1.0 
 
 And close the sheaths oi arrows stand. 
 And last the dog, whose faithful heart 
 No tempting" home could ever part 
 From him, whose wanders in the wood 
 Had shared with love his daily food, 
 Was brought and laid upon the bier. 
 That savage nature lifted here, 
 And sacrificed to ignorant creed 
 That taught his master's future need. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Each tiny stone again replaced, 
 And every mark of man effaced, 
 That no profaning alier* could 
 Pollute this sanctum of the wood. 
 Lone Sassacus about the mould 
 That did his last true kinsman hold. 
 Began his people's mournful lay 
 To aid the spirit on its way, 
 And danced, not with the eager zest 
 Of him with happy feelings blest, 
 But with the doleful, measured tread 
 
36 s A s s A c u s on 
 
 Of him who mourned for honored dead, 
 While circling round and round the cone 
 That soon he needs must leave alone. 
 
 XL. 
 
 The hours wore on in quiet, save 
 The labored breathing of the brave. 
 Till quite exhaused, he, at length. 
 Succumbed to strain beyond his strength^ 
 And sank upon the chilly ground 
 Beside the leaf obscured mound. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 The gas beladen winds of night 
 Upon him cast their breath of blight 
 Before he left the sacred place 
 That held the last one of his race. 
 Then, rising from his humble seat, 
 Uneasy on his labored feet, 
 Into his wigwam's shadows deep, 
 He made his way for rest and sleep. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 The months went by. The summer 
 spread 
 

 
 
 
JJEATH UF OAJf'T OALLAWAY. 37 
 
 Her garlands o'er the ranks of dead. 
 
 And still again bleak Winter's sleet 
 
 Drove man and beast to such retreat 
 
 As Nature or as cunning hand 
 
 Had made or placed at their command. 
 
 And now the legions of the South 
 
 Were forcing back the North with drou^ 
 
 Of storms and dearth of cold, 
 
 To seek a refuge in its fold 
 
 Among the ^jlacier regions fell, 
 
 Of which the Norsemen's legends tell; 
 
 And spreading as their host advanced 
 
 The gifts of Ceres, that enhanced 
 
 The beauty of the natural wild. 
 
 Or ceased the yearnings of her child. 
 
 But still the hand of Sassacus 
 
 Withheld its vengeance of abuse. 
 
 That thru the cruelties of the past 
 
 Had made him of his tribe the last. 
 
 XLIII. 
 But while the months were going by, 
 
S A S S A C U S II 
 
 A.nd nothing gave the scouter's eye 
 
 A. hint of danger near at hand, 
 
 Nor of a foeman in the land, 
 
 This injured brave among his kin 
 
 Was stirring up against the sin 
 
 The whites committed on their tribe, 
 
 Their hearts with word and threat to 
 
 bribe, 
 Till every lad who strung a bow 
 Was numbered to the fight to go; 
 And there to give up hope and life 
 Amid the fury of the strife, 
 That sure must mark the fmal stand 
 Of Foxes for their native land. 
 And like Leonidas of old. 
 He swore them life and hope to hold 
 Of less account than noble death. 
 That smote its foe with latest breath; 
 And count that life the greatest boast, 
 Which cost its enemies the most. 
 
DiiATH OF OAF'T CALLAWAY. 39 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 'Twas thus that when the herald came, 
 His master's message to proclaim, 
 There gathered from the hill and fen 
 A savage host of painted men— 
 The tribal princes— great and small — 
 And of the, primal power all. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 The battle feast was duly made 
 Beneath the wildwood's friendly shade. 
 Won scalps upon a stationed lance 
 Stood in the middle of the dance, 
 While warriors bold and brave and true, 
 Of Indians' every painted hue, 
 Around it circled with the song 
 That failing breath would fain prolong. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 About the ring in solemn foi-m, 
 The old men, squaws and children sv/arm, 
 To add devotion to the dance 
 With stoic face and silent glance. 
 
40 SASSACUS OK 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 The feasting ended, dancing o'er, 
 The thirst for blood delays no more. 
 With rifles swung upon their backs, 
 Each follows in the leader's tracks. 
 As, tomahawk in lifted hand, 
 Proclaims he sovereignty of land 
 His fathers once did rule supreme 
 O'er wooded hill and prairie stream, 
 While chanting in a cadence pure 
 The miseries his tribe endure. 
 He circles round the chosen tree, 
 While shouting in barbaric glee 
 The war song of his comrade kind, 
 And chips the war block from the rind. 
 Which each succeeding imitates. 
 Whose self appraising prowess rates 
 Him ablebodied, fierce and bold 
 Enough his wonted nam.e to hold, 
 Till each one of the painted braves 
 His hatchet's signet deep engraves 
 
DEATH iJt' CAf'-r OALLAWAY. 41 
 
 Upon the oak king's noble bole— 
 A mimic of its future role. 
 Then filing in their single line. 
 They thru the forest's deepness twine, 
 While wrapt in dense a silence now 
 As loud had been their savage vow, 
 When, lately forming for the fray, 
 They would their totem's genus pray. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 So, silently as shades, they pick 
 
 Their road across cold Iowa 
 
 And thru Missouri day by day 
 Until they camped in timber thick 
 Anear a point called L' Outre Lick. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 While here they temporary staid. 
 Their fires alone by night they made, 
 Lest some one of the foeman's band 
 The evidence should understand. 
 And their endeavors countermeet. 
 To thus their efforts all defeat. 
 
42 SASSACUS OR 
 
 L. 
 
 The game they took for hunger's pain. 
 With stealthy shaft and bow was slain, 
 While trusted braves of proven skill 
 Were scouting the adjacent hill, 
 And to the South a band of few 
 Went to the soldiers post review, 
 LI. 
 
 They found the white men unalarmed. 
 The stock had been so long unharmed, 
 By men or beasts, that for the while. 
 They grazed, scarce guarded, on the wild; 
 While in the fort the soldiers gay 
 Caroused the night and slept the day: 
 
 LII. 
 
 The pioneers who feared attack. 
 And from their claims had fallen back 
 Upon the fort, to find retreat 
 From dangers out too great to meet, 
 While news had spread on every hand 
 Of wagings of an Indian band, 
 
DEATH OF CAt'l CALLAWAY. 48 
 
 Were now content to venture out 
 Within the ranges of their scout, 
 And preparation make to raise 
 The coming summer's crop of maize; 
 And all were resting at an ease 
 The Indian's brightest hope to please. 
 LIIL 
 A negro boy out with the herd 
 Was from his meditation stirred 
 By sudden neighs and snorts of fear 
 Of unseen dangers in the rear. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 This lad was not the one to stand 
 Where braver hearts might reprimand, 
 But seized the nearest frightened horse 
 To ride unbridled o'er the course 
 The horse in flight was sure to take, 
 As quickest way the fort to make. 
 He did not think the herd would need 
 A care that would his way impede. 
 But left their course themselves to choose, 
 
44 SASSACUS OK 
 
 To not himself a moment lose. 
 And well he did not underrate 
 The dangers to procrastinate. 
 For as he mounted for the race 
 The Indian scouts essayed a chase. 
 The lad was riding, howe'er well 
 There now remains no one to tell, 
 But on the fact he rode his best 
 No earnest doubt can ever rest. 
 He neared the fort with blearing eyes, 
 Announced by indescriptive cries, 
 And with the speed, if not the grace, 
 Of runners of a champion race. 
 This dusky Gilpin, riding hard. 
 Was sighted by the gateway guard, 
 Who ran to let him thru the gate 
 But there to find his care too late. 
 For round the fort at highest speed 
 The frightened negro urged his steed. 
 And by a circle meant to find 
 An entrance on the postern line. 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAW A Y. 45 
 
 The watching guard threw out the gate, 
 When in he rushed with speed so great, 
 His horse unchecked, his senses gone, 
 The two in fright rushed madly on. 
 Until, with awful thud and fall, 
 They ran against the other wall. 
 The horse was killed; the rider's stun 
 Prevented telling what was done. 
 Until the scouts were sent to see. 
 And found of horses missing three. 
 Of volunteers were formed a band 
 In Captain Callaway's command. 
 And second officer of rank, 
 Lieutenant Rigg, an honest, frank, 
 Courageous man, whose thoughtful care 
 With bravery claimed an equal share, 
 The horses quickly to pursue, 
 And Indians of their theft to rue. 
 
 LV. 
 
 The Indians, fearful of attack. 
 When near the fort, retreated back 
 
46 SAS8ACUS UK 
 
 Within the wood to where they found 
 The three the herd had past around, 
 And took them on to strengthen forces 
 A draw pursuit out for the horses, 
 
 LVI. 
 
 The melted snow had soaked the plain, 
 Which now, augmented with a rain. 
 Had flooded every little creek 
 The day the soldiers went to seek 
 The horses, that they little knew 
 Were but to tole them to pursue. 
 But swimming thru the current deep, 
 And wading o'er the boggy seep, 
 They gave no heed to road nor day. 
 But closely followed on the way 
 The Indian thieves had gone before. 
 And broke the twining wild vines o'er, 
 
 LVII. 
 
 The Indians reached their party's camp. 
 And left the horses there to tramp 
 About their lariats' lengths to graze, 
 
DEATH Uf <JAi" 1 oALLAUAY. .j? 
 
 While they dispersed as many ways, 
 To gather in the soldiers' rear 
 But leave no sign of going there. 
 
 LVIII. 
 They met in scouted rendezvous 
 Upon a hill of distant viev^, 
 And left a messenger and spy 
 The soldiers' movements to descry: 
 While all remainder of the band 
 Descended to the bottom land, 
 Across its reeking, doubtful bogs 
 Of lapping growth and rotting logs, 
 And o'er the wildly dashing flood, 
 Where Prairie Fork in deepest wood 
 Rushed madly on to join its flow^ 
 With Ti' Outre Creek not far below. 
 Then down the southern timbered bank, 
 With bramble mat all soaked and dank. 
 Until the junction of the two 
 Roared dully at their eastern view, 
 And there secreted in the shade 
 
48 SASSACUS OR 
 
 Of matted vines on timbered glade, 
 They waited with a savage lust 
 The coming they did not mistrust, 
 Well knowing that the soldier's fear 
 Was little as his cunning care. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Anon from Indian watcher's throat. 
 Repeated, came some wild bird's note, 
 That broke upon the misty air 
 As cadence of some wild despair, 
 And floated off so weirdly shrill 
 It left the calm more painful still. 
 But not a trace of aught to tell 
 The hidden dangers that it held. 
 
 LX. 
 
 At length the cooing of a dove 
 Came softly o'er the flood above, 
 And told the patient watchers there 
 Success would crown their subtle care. 
 An owlet hooting further on 
 Announced the course the foe had gone; 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 49 
 
 And on the trail and just below 
 The sullen cawing of a crow 
 Declared the soldiers coming' back 
 Without suspicion of attack. 
 
 LXL 
 
 Lieutenant Rigg, with wise intent, 
 Objected to the way they went, 
 And asked to go another way, 
 For fear an ambush on this lay. 
 But Callaway, superior. 
 Refused this care of Indian war, 
 And modifying rather strong 
 With interjections all along, 
 Declared he would that way return 
 Inspite of all it might concern 
 Of Indian braves or brothers known 
 To be of some far warmer zone. 
 
 LXIL 
 
 So, when the horses were secured, 
 And some repast for men procured. 
 They faced about to struggle thru 
 
3ASSACUS OR 
 
 The wild debris they too well knew 
 Must be repast in going home 
 Across the rugged way they'd come. 
 In careless rank they toiled on 
 By snaaking wolf and startled fav/n. 
 Till all their fears were set at ease, 
 By seeing wild game such as these 
 Had not been frightened from the trail 
 VvHiich omen woodsmen seldom fail. 
 But no one ynessed the Indians' way 
 Around for this sole purpose lay. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 The stolen horses led the van, 
 Each haltered, singly, by a man 
 Who slung his gun upon his back 
 To keep his beast within the track. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 McDermid and McMullin, two. 
 And then came Hutchins into view, 
 And next the Captain, all alone. 
 Rode slowlv on his stylish I'oan. 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 51 
 
 LXV. 
 
 The three that reached the margin first 
 Allowed their beasts to quench their 
 
 thirst, 
 Then boldly breasting in the flood, 
 They swam their horses to the wood, 
 That grew along the other side 
 Down even to the swelling tide. 
 
 LXVL 
 
 McDermid, who was first to go. 
 And Hutchins, who was third in row, 
 Had long been enemies in blood. 
 And sworn to death as soon as should 
 Enlistment to attend the state 
 Allow them to their malice sate. 
 Their terms were almost now expired; 
 So each the other's death desired. 
 And waited with a hate intense 
 The day to come a few months hence. 
 Lxvn. 
 
 They reached and climbed the slimy 
 
 bank. 
 
52 S A S S A C U S OR 
 
 Where to their knees the horses sank 
 In vicious mud, and struggled hard 
 Against the forces to retard, 
 When, with a sulph'rous tainted breath. 
 The wood v/as ht with flames of death. 
 And each one of the foremost three 
 Was dashed into eternity 
 Vv^'ithout the warning of a word. 
 And ere their kitent senses stirred 
 With thoughts of the impending doom. 
 That oped the doorway of their tomb. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 i'roud SassacLis was in a rage 
 That those before him shoukl engage 
 The foremost of the foeman's band 
 Before he had secured the man. 
 Whose death had been the sole intent 
 On which these warriors all were lient. 
 Bui, hoping still to make the best 
 Of disregard to his behest, 
 He rushed upon the ready slain. 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 53 
 
 And ordered back his savage train, 
 To draw the soldiers to attack, 
 This hasty move to counteract. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 But such a care was not his need, 
 For Callaway deigned not to heed 
 The lurking danger on ahead. 
 But forward spurred his horse instead. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 The rank and file, more in the rear, 
 Were ordered up to succor here. 
 And ran to cover by the way 
 To fight in turn as fought were they. 
 And then retreated, sure but slow, 
 Around the ambush there to go; 
 For no more could they hope to save 
 Their Captain, less discreet than brave. 
 
 LXXL 
 
 Before the stream he halfway crossed, 
 His wounded horse was sunk and lost, 
 And, letting loose, he tried to swim, 
 
54 S A S S A C U S OR 
 
 But soon a shaft had wounded him. 
 Howe'er he reached the muddy land 
 And down beside the current ran. 
 But Sassacus was at his heel 
 With lifted arm and flashing steel, 
 So, seeing that escape seemed vain. 
 He urged himself to greater strain, 
 His gun into the current threw 
 To hide from those who did pursue; 
 And, then with one wild hope supreme. 
 He cast himself into the stream. 
 And strove to cross its surging tide 
 To join his m^en at other side. 
 When, just as if Fate had decreed 
 To help him in his direst need, 
 Lieutenant Rigg his effort spied, 
 And to his crossing cover tried. 
 His arm was firm, his shot as true, 
 Which plov.-ed the redman's shoulder thru, 
 And Sassacus sank to the ground, 
 Just as his vengeance thought had found. 
 
DEA TH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. o5 
 
 A moment's dizzy, fierce despair 
 That he should lose a chance so fair, 
 Rushed o'er him as he felt the shock, 
 That hurled him back upon the rock. 
 But there, in reach of v/here he lay, 
 A dead man's gun was thrown away, 
 And seizing it with savage glee, 
 He rose upon a trembling knee, 
 Across the boulder at his face 
 Secured the gun a resting place, 
 And with deliberation killed 
 The man, whose death his vengeance 
 filled. 
 
 Lxxn. 
 Altho a moment scarce had flown 
 To bear the Captain's dying groan 
 Up to a court of higher powers 
 Than any equities of ours, 
 When thru his lungs another shot 
 Destroyed the life the first had not; 
 His mind was iilled with sweetest joy 
 
56 SASSACUS OR 
 
 That savage souls can e'er employ; 
 And, looking on the whirling flood 
 Still tinted with its streaks of blood, 
 His face assumed its last repose. 
 His eyes triumphantly he closed. 
 And, sinking back, his race was run. 
 At last, Tuspaquin's vow was done. 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 57 
 
 Part iv. 
 
 DESTINY. 
 
 Lxxin. 
 
 She death of Sassacus affright 
 Did bring his allies of the fight; 
 And, as a ray dies with its source, 
 Their valor fainted at his corse. 
 The wood their dusky figures shield 
 That moment, and they quit the field. 
 No Indian face again was seen; 
 By fending oak, thru leafy screen; 
 Nor tread nor shot nor battle whoop 
 Dismayed the now retreating troop. 
 Safely around the ambush, led 
 By wary scout whose feline tread 
 Crushed not the stems on which it fell, 
 They, undisturbed, returned to tell 
 Their loss, and reinforcements head 
 To seek the bodies of their dead. 
 
 LXXIV, 
 
 Deployed in battle in the wood. 
 
58 SASSACUS OR 
 
 Two members of the squad were lost, 
 And, lone, must do the best they could, 
 Avoiding all the the savage host. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 No clew was ever found to fate 
 Of private Scott; if soon or late, 
 He fell a victim to the foe. 
 What hope or fear; what pain or woe 
 He bore, no ear has ever heard. 
 No wildwood oracle a word 
 Has ever given; sealed fore'er 
 His story. On his grave no tear 
 May fall. Then let his peaceful rest 
 Be no less calm and fully blest 
 Than his who sleeps in richest tomb 
 Of aged cathedral's honored gloom. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 But private Wolfe escaped unharmed 
 On fleeing feet bewinged with fear 
 That left his comrades far arear. 
 And old fort Clement sore alarmed 
 
DEATH OF CAr'T CALLAWAY. 59 
 
 With news that Callaway was dead, 
 And, save himself, the troops he led. 
 But eve's return of other ten. 
 Left time to mourn these five brave men. 
 * * ^ ■>■ 
 
 At the retreat the Indians came 
 
 Their treasured trophies, scalps, to claim. 
 
 They found the bodies of the three. 
 
 And horribly dismembered them; 
 The limbs beswung on rock and tree. 
 
 They left as monument most grim. 
 Lxxvn. 
 But selfishly their marching train 
 Was cumbered with their hurt and slain, 
 Until the Boone's Lick Trail they quit 
 Within the prairie's edge a bit. 
 But there they scoopt a shallow grave 
 To hold the last true Pequot brave. 
 And as a headstone to it set 
 
 A slender stick beneath the grass. 
 Just here some autumn hunters met, 
 
60 SASS A CUS OR 
 
 And stopt the evening hours to pass. 
 A blade marked peg ensnared the eye; 
 A query called the campers nigh. 
 The peg withdrawn and hand put down 
 Disclosed an empty human crown. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 The campers broke the even's rest, 
 And marched with early morning's zest, 
 Preferring much the night time's use 
 To sleeping with poor Sassacus. 
 
 LXXIX, 
 
 The prairie vines his laurels weathe; 
 Above his bed the light winds breathe 
 A soft requiem. The winter builds 
 A gem set tomb, and storm wind fills 
 Its hall with boisterous wail and rout 
 The glories of his name to shout. 
 But fair or foul, his calm repose 
 Is undisturbed by these and those. 
 Thru day and night, 'neath shine and 
 shade. 
 
^^ 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 61 
 
 Return to dust alike is made: 
 
 Nor Summers's calm, nor winter's rave, 
 
 Can change the fiat of the grave. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Well might the simple savage tune 
 His triumph to his noblest grace. 
 That scion of the line of Boone 
 Should fall a victim to his race; 
 E'en gladder still the remnant be, 
 That Daniel's days are full, and he 
 Must wait in inglenook, while run 
 The tears for loved Jamima's son. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 Tho James was dead, his grandslre old. 
 Their spirit burned full many fold 
 In lives of those who came to fill 
 Their places at Time's ceaseless mill. 
 And destined was the Indian race 
 To fitter lives to yield its place; 
 Nor heart nor hand might hope to fend 
 It from destruction in the end. 
 
62 S A S S A C U S R 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 With April's tears the troops returned 
 In anger, that more fiercely burned 
 When they their comrades' bodies found 
 So strewn about the battle ground. 
 In care their loving hands regained 
 Each particle that still remained; 
 A hollow with their weapons scoopt, 
 In which the three, confusedly groupt, 
 Were placed, and over all was laid 
 The kindred dust with saber-spade, 
 To wait God's Vv-ill to reassign 
 Each member to its fellow kind. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 Beneath the ivy's slender thread, 
 And poisonoak's deeprooted bed, 
 With branch and bramble's tangled mat. 
 They lie, where kindly comrades, that 
 The last sad rites of earth would pay, 
 Their mangled corses laid avv^ay; 
 All anger cooled; all hatred eased; 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 
 
 Life's enemies in death appeased, 
 Each tho't the world for both too small, 
 Now sleep within a common wall 
 
 Of changeless clay in equal plight. 
 Nor word nor threat their slumber frets, 
 Where ceaseless silence peace begets; 
 Nor smile nor tear nor hope nor fear 
 Upon their waiting spirits wear, 
 Thruout the rest of their long night. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 Still shuns the farmer's shear their sod, 
 Nor prunes their laurels hook nor blade, 
 
 Where Nature weaves above their clod 
 The sward that once their bier was 
 made. 
 
 No stranger hand nor alien mind 
 
 Has e'er profaned this soldier's shrine. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 And. He who paints the rose's breast. 
 Sweetens the violet's breath; 
 He, also, crowns the mortal, guest 
 
64 SASSACUSOR 
 
 Of Love thru pains of death. 
 And as He guards the mould of clay, 
 
 The soul, as well, He keeps; 
 Will, sometime, justify His way, 
 
 Beyond where Reason weeps. 
 When we shall see as we are seen, 
 All equity will lie between 
 Life's Author and the creature, man, 
 To whom God grants all justice can. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 Beside the river's suaging flow 
 
 The Captain's body lay. 
 Suspended by the willows low 
 
 Above the current's way. 
 His brother's hand with care removed 
 The form that once that care approved, 
 But, then, no favor felt, nor slight 
 Rebuked--long still in death's deep night. 
 Directly up the joining hill. 
 They bore him, where a little rill 
 Had dug its groove, thru vears the thrall 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 65 
 
 Of mighty Ocean's distant call. 
 And where they conquered all the steep, 
 They laid him for Time's final sleep. 
 The raindrops there first hear command 
 To take their journey overland; 
 There first the flowers see the sun, 
 When morning has the day begun; 
 And there the birds and bees may sing 
 Their welcome to the maiden spring; 
 Nor call nor light nor sound can cheer 
 The waiting sleeper's vigil drear. 
 
Part. V. 
 
 RF.VELATTON. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 the times now past, that intervene 
 ^That day and this now throw be. 
 
 tween 
 
 Vicissitudes of five score years, 
 That all its prospects greatly veers 
 From wild, unkept and virgin wastes 
 To forms that harmonize the taste? 
 Of Europe's better favored sons. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 The bear no longer over runs 
 The haunts his habits made his own; 
 Its native birds have ever flown 
 The wood of their nativity. 
 
 The noble bison of the chase 
 And light, swift deer no more we see. 
 
 Each, all have gone to join the race 
 
SASSACUS OR 
 
 For whose support they seem to be, 
 And with whose place and mode of life 
 Their own wild instincts found no strife. 
 The beaver builds no more his dam 
 Where once his hundred workmen swam; 
 The otter slides no more are found, 
 Where once their number did abound; 
 And with them all the higher class 
 Of animals have seemed to pass, 
 As goes the shadow with the light 
 That fades when but a moment bright, 
 Or, like the jack-o-lantern pale, 
 That as you near it seems to fail. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 The virent slopes of timbered hills 
 The ringing woodman's axe now fills, 
 And thru the valleys, erst so dank, 
 Flourish the farmer's riches rank. 
 From hill to hill the wheat and inaize 
 Wave through the sunny summer days; 
 And when the autumn time is come, 
 
"^iil 
 
DEATH OP CAP'T CALLAWAY. 69 
 
 Are gathered to the harvest home. 
 The cry of plowman to their teams, 
 When Spring returns its balmy beams; 
 The bleat of sheep, the low of kine, 
 And neigh of horse their tones combine, 
 And, joining with the merry bell. 
 The story of the valley tell. 
 xc. 
 But on the hill a lone waste keeps 
 Its vigils where the hero sleeps; 
 And rattling bough, decaying bole. 
 Fast sinking to their former mould, 
 Show where the woodman's edged blade 
 Its devastation sheer has made. 
 But, tho the sepulcher unkept 
 Lie 'mid the waste of stranger men. 
 Whose lips ne'er praised nor eyes have 
 
 wept 
 The lives of those whose times have been 
 Before they came themselves to feci 
 The pangs or joy of woe or weal, 
 
70 S A S S A C U S OR 
 
 There is advancement. Act and thougfht 
 Up to a higher plane have brought 
 The population of its ground 
 Than in the previous race was found. 
 Altho Deception's haughty train 
 Seems in its midst a holt to gain, 
 And wilder follies grow apace 
 Than should be countenanced in the race, 
 Each day the former would improve. 
 And upward still we surely move, 
 xci. 
 
 The arm of strength that drev/ the bow, 
 To deal in vengeance mortal blow. 
 Now Vvields the hammer or the blade. 
 The pen of thought or goods of trade, 
 And raises to a higher plane, 
 Where savage hatred would profane. 
 XCII. 
 
 The strength of thought, the force of 
 will, 
 That hunted through a life time, still 
 
DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY . 71 
 
 Devoted to the cause of hate 
 Until that cause in blood could sate, 
 Now, turn we in another way, 
 And give the nobler passions sway. 
 xcin. 
 
 In short, the same old soul we keep. 
 That in the Indian's breast did leap, 
 The same heart's throb of love and hate, 
 The same great thirst to satiate; 
 The same deep passions to control, 
 The same wild fancies to unfold. 
 The same sweet love of joy and peace. 
 The same strong yearning for release; 
 And but one thing he never got 
 Makes us to be what he was not; 
 And all this happy land of ours. 
 So full of sunshine, love and flowers. 
 
 We have to claim in every sod, 
 Because in all its walks and bowers. 
 
 We recognize THERE IS A GOD. 
 
JUL 3 1912 
 
^^^mmkm'