Sanders' Union Fourth Reader Part 41

IRE, wrath; indignation.

VENGE' ANCE, retaliation.

RE LEAS' ED, set free; liberated.

TRO PHIES, memorials of victory.

BE REFT', deprived.

VULT' URE, rapacious bird.

TRAV' ERS ED, crossed over.

DE SCRIP' TION, representation.

MA TER' NAL, motherly.

FIL' IAL, becoming a child.

CON SAN GUIN' I TY, blood relations.h.i.+p.

IN TEL' LI GENCE, news; information.

I DEN' TI TY, sameness.

SUR VIV' ED, remained alive.

AS CER TAIN' ED, found out.

IN TER' PRET ER, explainer.

LIN' E A MENTS, features.

FRANCES SLOc.u.m, THE YOUNG CAPTIVE.

[Footnote: The great ma.s.sacre at Wyoming was, perhaps, the most b.l.o.o.d.y and terrible chapter of the Revolution. A combined Indian and Tory force had flung itself upon the peaceful valley, and murdered or made captive nearly all its unoffending inhabitants; its old and its young,--men, women, and children alike,--were either indiscriminately butchered or made prisoners. Among the prisoners taken on that occasion, was an infant child by the name of Frances Sloc.u.m. The story is a very strange one; we copy it from Lossing's very excellent work, "The Field Book of the Revolution."]

B.J. LOSSING.

1. I pa.s.sed the evening with the venerable Joseph Sloc.u.m, whose family was among the sufferers, in Wyoming Valley. He related to me all the particulars of the capture and final discovery of his sister Frances, and other incidents connected with the sufferings of his family.

2. His father was a Quaker, and was distinguished for his kindness to the Indians. He remained unharmed at the time of the invasion, and, while the torch was applied to the dwellings of others, _his_ was left untouched. But his son Giles was in the battle. This, doubtless, excited the ire of the Indians, and they resolved on vengeance. 3. Late in the autumn, they were seen prowling about the house, which was situated about one hundred rods from the Wilkesbarre Fort. A neighbor, named Kingsley, had been made prisoner, and his wife and two sons had a welcome home in Mr. Sloc.u.m's family. One morning, the boys were grinding a knife near the house, when a rifle-shot and a shriek brought Mrs.

Sloc.u.m to the door. An Indian was scalping the eldest boy, a lad of fifteen, with the knife he had been grinding.

4. The savage then went into the house, and caught up a little son of Mrs. Sloc.u.m. "See!" exclaimed the frightened mother, "he can do thee no good; he is lame." The Indian released the boy, took up her little daughter Frances, aged five years, gently in his arms, and, seizing the younger Kingsley, hastened to the mountains.

5. Two Indians who were with him, carried off a black girl, about seventeen years of age. Mr. Sloc.u.m's daughter caught up her brother Joseph, (my informant,) two and a half years old, and fled in safety to the fort, where an alarm was given; but the savages were beyond successful pursuit.

6. About six weeks afterward, Mr. Sloc.u.m and his father-in-law Ira Tripp, were shot and scalped by some Indians while foddering cattle near the house. Again the savages escaped with their horrid trophies. Mrs.

Sloc.u.m, bereft of father, husband, and child, and stripped of all possessions but the house that sheltered her, could not leave the valley, for nine helpless children were yet in her household.

7. She trusted in the G.o.d of Elijah; and, if she was not fed by the ravens, she was spared by the vultures. She mourned not for the dead; for they were at rest: but little Frances, her lost darling, where was she? The lamp of hope kept on burning; but years rolled by, and no tidings of the little one came.

8. When peace returned, and friendly intercourse with Canada was established, two of the little captive's brothers started in search of her. They traversed the wilderness to Niagara, offering rewards for her recovery; but all in vain. They returned to Wyoming, convinced that the child was dead. But the mother's heart was still the shrine of hope, and she felt a.s.sured that Frances was not in the grave.

9. Her soul appeared to commune with that of her child, and she often said, "I know Frances is still living." At length, the mother's heart was cheered: a woman (for many years had now pa.s.sed, and Frances, if living, must have arrived to womanhood) was found among the Indians, answering the description of the lost one. She only remembered being carried away from the Susquehanna.

10. Mrs. Sloc.u.m took her home, and cherished her with a mother's tenderness. Yet the mysterious link of sympathy which binds the maternal spirit to its offspring, was unfelt, and the bereaved mother was bereaved still. "It may be Frances, but it does not seem so; yet the woman shall ever be welcome," said Mrs. Sloc.u.m. The foundling, also, felt no filial yearnings; and, both becoming convinced that no consanguinity existed, the orphan returned to her Indian friends.

11. From time to time, the hope of the mother would be revived, and journeys were made to distant Indian settlements in search of the lost sister; but in vain. The mother went "down into the grave, mourning,"

and little Frances was almost forgotten. Her brothers had become aged men, and their grandchildren were playing upon the very spot, whence she had been taken.

12. In the summer of 1837, fifty-nine years after her capture, intelligence of Frances was received. Colonel Ewing, an Indian agent and trader, in a letter from Logansport, Indiana, to the editor of the _Lancaster Intelligencer_, gave such information, that all doubts respecting her ident.i.ty were removed; and Joseph Sloc.u.m, with the sister who carried him to the fort, and yet survived, immediately journeyed to Ohio, where they were joined by their younger brother Isaac.

13. They proceeded to Logansport, where they found Mr. Ewing, and ascertained that the woman spoken of by him, lived about twelve miles from the village. She was immediately sent for; and, toward evening the next day, she came into the town, riding a spirited young horse, accompanied by her two daughters, and the husband of one of them,--all dressed in full Indian costume.

14. An interpreter was procured, (for she could not speak or understand English,) and she listened seriously to what her brothers had to say.

She answered but little, and, at sunset, departed for her home, promising to return the next morning. The brother and sister were quite sure that it was indeed Frances, though in her face nothing but Indian lineaments were seen, her color alone revealing her origin.

15. True to her appointment, she appeared the following morning, accompanied as before. Mr. Joseph Sloc.u.m then mentioned a mark of recognition, which, his mother had said, was a sure test. While playing, one day, with a hammer in a blacksmith's shop, Joseph, then a child two and a half years old, gave Frances a blow upon the middle finger of the left hand, which crushed the bone, and deprived the finger of its nail.

16. This test Mr. Sloc.u.m had withheld until others should fail. When he mentioned it, the aged woman was greatly agitated; and, while tears filled the furrows of her face, she held out the wounded finger. There was no longer a doubt, and a scene of great interest ensued. Her affections for her kindred, that had slumbered half a century, were aroused, and she made earnest inquiries after her father, mother, brothers, and sisters. Her full heart--full with the cherished secrets of her history--was opened, and the story of her life freely given.

17. She said the savages, who were Delawares, after taking her to a rocky cave in the mountains, departed to the Indian country. The first night was the unhappiest of her life. She was kindly treated,--being carried tenderly in their arms when she was weary. She was adopted in an Indian family, and brought up as their daughter. For years she lived a roving life, and loved it. She was taught the use of the bow and arrow, and became expert in all the employments of savage existence.

18. When she was grown to womanhood, both her Indian parents died, and she soon afterward married a young chief of the nation, and removed to the Ohio country. She was treated with more respect than the Indian women generally; and so happy was she in her domestic relations, that the chance of being discovered, and compelled to return among the whites, was the greatest evil that she feared; for she had been taught that they were the implacable enemies of the Indians, whom she loved.

19. Her husband died; and, her people having joined the Miamies, she went with them, and married one of that tribe. The last husband was also dead, and she had been a widow many years. Children and grandchildren were around her, and her life was pa.s.sing pleasantly away. When she concluded the narrative, she lifted her right hand in a solemn manner, and said, "All this is as true as that there is a Great Spirit in the heavens!" she had entirely forgotten her native language, and was a pagan.

20. On the day after the second interview, the brothers and sisters, with the interpreter, rode out to her dwelling. It was a well-built log-house, in the midst of cultivation. A large herd of cattle and sixty horses were grazing in the pasture. Everything betokened plenty and comfort; for she was wealthy, when her wants and her means were compared. Her annuity from government, which she received as one of the Miami tribe, had been saved, and she had about one thousand dollars in specie.

21. Her white friends pa.s.sed several days very agreeably with her; and subsequently her brother Joseph, with his daughter, the wife of the Hon.

Mr. Bennet, of Wyoming, made her another visit, and bade her a last farewell. She died a few years ago, and was buried with considerable pomp; for she was regarded as a queen among her tribe.

QUESTIONS.--1. Where is the Wyoming Valley? 2. Relate the incidents connected with the capture of little Frances. 3. What efforts were made to find her? 4. How many years after her capture before she was found?

5. Where did they find her? 6. By what test did Mr. Sloc.u.m prove that she was his sister? 7. What history did she relate of herself? 8.

Describe her home.

LESSON L.

FRING' ING, bordering; edging.

LEDGE, layer; ridge.

DAI SY, (literally _day's eye_,) a little wild flower very common in summer.

RI' OT OUS, noisy; reveling.

BOIS' TER OUS, tumultuous; violent.

CULL' ING, selecting; picking.

BOU QUETS', (_boo kas_,) bunches of flowers.

SULK' Y, morose.

BOTH' ER ING, perplexing.

UN WONT' ED, rare: uncommon.

TE' DI OUS, tiresome; wearisome.

THE RAIN-DROPS.

DELIA LOUISE COLTON.

1. _The silver rain, the golden rain,_ _The tripping, dancing, laughing rain!_ Stringing its pearls on the green leaf's edge, Fringing with gems the brown rock's ledge, Spinning a vail for the water-fall, And building an amber-colored wall Across the West where the sun-beams fall: _The gentle rain_, in the shady lane, _The pattering, peering, winning rain!_

2. _The noisy rain, the marching rain,_ _The rus.h.i.+ng tread of the heavy rain!_ Pouring its rivers from out the blue, Down on the gra.s.s where the daisies grew, Darting in clouds of angry drops Across the hills and the green tree-tops, And kissing, at last, in its giant glee, The foaming lips of the great green sea: _The fierce, wild rain, the riotous rain,_ _The boisterous, das.h.i.+ng, shouting rain!_

3. _The still night rain, the solemn rain!_ _The soldier-step of the midnight rain!_ With its measured beat on the roof o'erhead, With its tidings sweet of the faithful dead, Whispers from loves who are laid asleep Under the sod where the myrtles creep, Culling bouquets from the sun-lit past, Of flowers too sweet, too fair to last: _The faithful rain, the untiring rain,_ _The cooing, sobbing, weeping rain!_