Yet Osceola lives, and those
Who answer to his battle-cry,
Though few to combat countless foes,
Are ready with their chief to die.

"They call me 'savage' -I am so ;
My tears were never taught to flow
For common griefs- and he who sees
His nation, like their forest trees,
Thinning and falling, one by one,
Till each proud patriarch is gone,
And those who linger to the last,
Stripped by oppression's winter blast,
Without a witnessed tear to show
The secret workings of his wo,
May well look on with stoic eye,
To see his country's foemen die.

"They say an equal war I wage
With women, and with helpless age,
And infants on their mother's knees:
It is not so; trophies like these
I do not seek-I do not shun;
I reck not of them, lost or won:
My voice as soon could stop the blaze
When kindled on the prairie plain,
As soon control the flash that plays
Around the tow'ring temple's vane,
As stay the hand of my brave men,
When, echoing far through vale and glen,
O'er forest wild and barren hill,
They hear the war-cry loud and shrill.

'If in the war-creed of our race

The name of Mercy has no place,

It has been blotted thence by those
To whom, by birthright, we are foes;
Through our once happy hunting-grounds
Daily the laborer's axe resounds,
And the destroying woodman roves
Heedless amid our council groves;
But 'neath the rod of Manitou
The red man scruples not to bow:
We saw in this his ruling hand,

And yielded to disgrace and toil,
As strangers in our father's land,
And aliens on our native soil.

"This did we bear, and would have borne;
We gave up all, with tearless eye,
Claiming the pittance in return
Beside our fathers' graves to mourn -
Beside our fathers' graves to die!

Our restless conquerors willed not thus;
Unsated with the soil they 've won,
They say a better home for us

Lies far toward the setting sun; A land in whose green hunting-grounds Unscared by man, the game abounds, And where, they say, is ample room For us our empire to resume. It may not be how bright, how fair That distant land, it matters not; Our fathers' spirits are not there, Nor there their sacred burial-spot. No! we have sworn upon their graves, Their list'ning spirits lingering nigh, That ere the Mississippi's waves Divide us from them, we will die!

I Do love people who cannot keep even their faults to themselves, but in an hour's acquaintance will make such a display of their weak points, that you never forget them. Such an one was Major Dart. I saw him one day, and shall wear his impression for my whole life.

'Now I do hope Major Dart will come, if every body else stays away,' said my blooming friend, Alice Somers, as she drew the flowers on the centre-table more under the light of the astral, and looked round with complacency on the finished preparations for an evening party. Just then the door bell rang, and a note and a port-folio were brought in.

'Major Dart's man, ma'am.'

Poor Alice exclaimed, 'too bad too bad' - for the note ran thus:

'Major Dart presents his compliments to Mrs. and Miss Somers, and expresses his deep regret that he shall be deprived of the pleasure of looking in upon their brilliant circle this evening. He has just had the ill fortune to recollect a previous engagement, and could forswear his memory for playing him true this once. He takes the liberty to send a few drawings of his protegé, Leslie, which may furnish entertainment for some of Miss Somers' young friends. Major D. will do himself the honor to call upon Mrs. Somers' stranger guests to-morrow morning.'

Is n't it provoking, mother? I wanted the girls should see him. He is such a character.' The company now began to assemble, and amidst the various introductions to which, as strangers, Anna Clair and myself were subjected, I thought no more of Major Dart for the whole of a very pleasant evening.

The next morning brought its round of engagements. We had but one day left to see all the remaining show-places of wide-spread Washington, where hurryings to and fro' weary the curious stranger into the belief that he must have seen much more than he has.

VOL.XII.

8

Who but an Englishman does not believe he is doing something, when he is driving at full speed from Congress burial ground to Georgetown, or toiling up steps, and opening and shutting all the doors in the capitol, to make the most of an hour ?

When we returned to dinner, the squarest, stiffest, smootbest of cards, in the blackest and most perfect of letters, told us that Major Dart, U. S. A.,' had done his duty.

And more than his duty, it seemed; for as Alice was again taking up her lamentation, Mrs. Somers interrupted it. 'Major Dart called a second time, and spent half an hour with me. He probably either expected you would return, or he was: sufficiently entertained with Florence Gray, and my other morning visitors. On learning that you had gone to the rooms of the War Department, he begged, if the ladies were interested in Indian portraits and relics, they would do him the honor to look at his small collection. He believed even Miss Alice and I had never visited him, though we were his neighbors. After scouring the prairies, and soaring into raptures over the free Indian life, till the young ladies looked satiated, and rose to go, he spoke of a present of dried buffalo tongue he had just received, and offered to share it with me; but he immediately retracted, and said he would rather reserve it for our visit. So I have promised for you that we will all go, and at four o'clock ; so come to dinner, that we may be ready.'

• Major Dart and buffalo tongue !: too much for one day.' Like the old woman's cherry-pie and letter from David, Alice.'

Our party looked larger than we had supposed, when it stood ready to move. There was Mrs. Somers, Miss Elsa, a stiff maiden cousin, spending the day, whom we took because Alice knew the Major would not waste a thought on her to court her; Frank Somers, a bright boy of nine, full of the Major's museum, and we three fair damsels, who, Alice averred, would form, to the gallant Major's eye, the centre and main group, of which the rest would be but the frame work. Our escort, cousin David, looked at his watch as he shut the hall door, for it seemed as if it must be later.

•We shall not have much time for the pictures or Major Dart,' said Mrs. Somers. “Now, Alice, do be decorous, and do not make Ann and Jane laugh in the poor Major's face. You know he recollects you, Anna, as an acquaintance eight years ago. Be recognised gratefully, my dear; he is accustomed to civil treatment. And, Jane, mind

you do not stare at his lame foot or broken nose. Those are his two great mortifications.' “Yes, he has a broken limb and a lame nose, that you must not see. Somebody quarrelled with him once ; (I do not see how it could happen, he is always so polite,) and with a blow from a cane marred his countenance in that fashion, and by way of righting the matter, he stood upin a duel and took a ball through bis knee. But just listen to cousin Elsa. She is congratulating herself on having worn her new black satin, just what she would have chosen if she had known we were going. She must have designs on the Major. Here we are at the door.'

A smart-looking negro appeared, to receive us, and the inner door, which was immediately thrown open by a pale, half-way genteel boy

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of twelve years, disclosed the Major standing in state behind a chair. He was a short, thick man, of more than fifty, with fierce look ing light hair, erect above his temples, and as nearly meeting over his crown as an impulse on both sides could carry it. Huge red whiskers did what they could to befriend a bronzed, and seamed, and battered face, but the mutilation of a large acquiline nose was not a defect that could be veiled: his pale blue eyes rolled round furiously, to make amends for all, by a look of extreme animation.

• You do me too much honor, Mrs. Somers,' said the figure, advan. cing as far as it could, and retain the support of the chair, for the cane was thrown under the table. • Welcome, fair ladies. A bachelor's welcome, my merry Lady Alice. Can it be possible that I see my lovely little playmate in the majestic Miss Anna Clair? Time is too partial; he does not so beautify me,' passing his hand over his forehead, as if to smooth incipient wrinkles, and managing with the same movement to draw the locks closer over the bald spot. I am enraptured to make your acquaintance, Miss Ashton. This is too much honor for a poor lonely man. How I regret that I have no lady to welcome you! Kind Miss Alice! if you would only persuade some fair friend to take compassion on the bachelor! Ah! you are looking at my flowers. You should have that bouquet, Miss Alice, but my especial favorite, Florence Gray, sent it to me not an hour ago. You bave seen Florence, Miss Anna ? She is our city belle, and very pretty I am bound to think her, for she is always kind to me. My plants are really hardly worth looking at. I prize them, because they are nearly all fairy favors ; they come to me mysteriously, and I can only find out whence, and their errand, by applying to my Flora's dictionary. But you must each have a flower. Tom, my scissors from the drawer. Let me introduce Master Willis, my little friend and protegé. A lad of some genius, Mrs. Somers.'

The novel decorations of the parlor now attracted my whole attention. The walls were hung with embroidered buffalo skins, and rare furs, and decorated with elk borns and hoofs, bows and arrows, beautifully carved clubs, pipes, and cups, plumes, and feather robes and coronets, gay moccasins, and game bags, and cabinets of coins and minerals, arranged with much taste and skill. Beaded belts and pouches, and long shining black locks, which had been victor's trophies, and strings of rattling bears' teeth, were festooned around several large and beautiful paintings, and I was completely absorbed, when mignonette and a rose-bud thrust under my nose recalled me to the gallant Major.

* Rather savage decorations, but I am half a savage. My life has been spent among the red men, and I could gladly return to them, were it not for you charmers, whom we may not carry into the wilds. Tom, thank you for that port-folio -- the smallest one but

you may give me both.'

• Pardon me, but I will do myself the honor to show you some sketches of my own, of scenes in which I have been engaged. This is an actual likeness of my favorite horse, Flash-o'-Lightning. I valued him from having taken him myself on the prairie. He was stolen from me, but I took my revenge in their own Indian fashion. See this burning village - and the fury depicted on the faces of the braves. I bear the marks of it yet, but I live to bask in the light of sunny eyes to-day.'

• Did they scalp you, Sir ?' asked little Frank, with his innocent and admiring eyes upturned.

• But I was intending to show you some drawings that are really worth looking at; very perfect little things, done in water colors. By the way, if the same labor and skill had been exerted in oils, my protegé would have been immortal, instead of depending upon my poor patronage. Poor Wentworth! he has been three years absent, taking sketches for me from actual groups. I do love the bold attitudes of these indomitable lords of the wilds. But, ladies, we are getting too barbarous. Let us return to more civilized life. What will suit your tastes best ? I have some fine European views. I can speak for their correctness, from actual observation. Tom, my good lad, that red port-folio. A new and valuable set of Spanish mountain sketches, just received from my promising young friend, Lieutenant Lesler, author of Peak Peerings,' of which work, by the way, I may say I stood sponsor.

Those are French and Italian architectural prints. I can answer for their correctness, from examination. Ha, ha! I criticized so severely the tower you see there, that the grotesque statues have been taken down, the cross elevated, and they have begun to build out a little projection here, to hide the defect. If you could have seen how strangely the workmen looked, suspended in baskets from that immense height.

There is a drawing I should like your opinion upon an emblematic design of my own— where is it, Tom? Oh! I recollect that it is lying on the table in Congress Library. The artists who met there yesterday, borrowed it, and they talk of doing me the houor of transferring my device to an empty pannel. Beautiful heads those! I have seen many of the admired originals. But have not we had enough of pictures ? Could I not persuade one of you ladies to try my new German piano? No? Then I must do myself the honor to touch the keys, that you may judge of the sound. That air is better on the flute. T'om, the flute in the ebony case. Is n't that sweet? but finer still on my musical glasses. You may smile, ladies, but I actually retain all the enthusiasm that was felt for that simple musical instrument when it was first exhibited.' The soft, sad sounds floated over our heads, and I turned my

back on the thick thumbs, that with needlessly flourished circles were bringing them out, to enjoy something so heavenly, but the Major thought proper to add a voice hardly seraph-like enough to harmonize. I could not but express my admiration, for the instrument was new to me. I was met by an offer to impart all his skill to me, if I would only stay a week. He would even send to Baltimore for an instrument for me, as his was the only one in the city.

• It is too solemn for me often. Give me my violin, Tom, or rather my double flageolet. I will do myself the honor to breathe through it one little air that may revive us. My good Tom, just give me my pet little French flageolet now, in that upper drawer of my desk, that

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