Ellen sprang to her side, and raised her up, but before Roberts could reach her, the terrific war-whoop assured him that a bullet, and not fear, had prostrated her. The echo of the war-cry and the groans of Mrs. Roberts mingled together. She struggled but a moment, and falling back, expired almost instantly. The bursting open of the door, the striking down of Roberts, whose gun had already sent death to one of their number, and the seizing of Ellen, was but the work of a moment. So intent were the savages upon attacking the town, that they did not stop to scalp the fallen, but with Ellen as prisoner, made their way to the gates, designing to take their trophies, and fire the dwelling on their return. The after events-the sacking of the town, and the hasty retreat of the enemy to the Canadas, we need not repeat. Soon after the savages had left his house, Roberts recovered his consciousness. Fearing lest some of the enemy might be left on guard, he lay quite still some minutes; then hearing nothing, he ventured to open his eyes. Upon the floor, in the very spot where she had fallen, with her work beside her, wet with blood, lay his murdered wife; but of Ellen, his daughter, the pride of his eye, he saw no trace. Venturing to move, then to creep across the floor to where his wife was, he took a hasty survey, and concluding that his daughter was a prisoner, and hoping that she was yet unharmed, Roberts made a mighty oath of REVENGE. To remain and dispose of the body of his wife, would be to sacrifice his daughter's life; so carefully reloading his gun, arming himself with his hunting knife, and slinging his ammunition across his shoulder, Roberts crept out into the moonlight. Following the trail of the redskins through the snow, he traced them into the town. Here all trace was lost, for the Indians had divided themselves into bands, and taken so many directions, that the route of the party with whom he was certain of finding his daughter, could not be identified. With the coolness of a desperate man, Roberts resolved to put himself in such a situation as to command a view of the Indians as they left the town. To assist the flying inhabitants, was no part of bis purpose; it was only to revenge the death of his wife, and recover, if possible. his captive daughter. After the sacking of the town, the prisoners were brought out into the open square, and here, by the light of bnrning dwellings, Roberts discovered his daughter bound, standing between two savages. As the number of prisoners was great, after binding them they were placed in bands with but one or two to guard them, while others busied themselves in collecting the plunder. Horses, cattle, and indeed every living thing were let loose; and, blinded by the flames, dashed frantically through the town, adding their neighs and fierce bellowing to the general confusion. Adroitly managing to escape observation, Roberts kept his eye upon the spot where stood his daughter, chafing with angry impatience, and swearing vengeance at one breath. At length, the motley procession moved on. With yell, and whoop, the furious Indians pointed to the burning houses, and expressed their satisfaction still farther by merciless blows upon the half naked bodies of their prisoners. All that weary night, Roberts hovered upon their track, as also the next day. Toward night-fall, after a brief consultation, the band separated,—the greater portion, with the prisoners, making toward Canada. The two savages, who from the first seemed to claim authority over Ellen, kept with the smaller body. On the evening of the second day, the Indians halted, and made preparations to camp; the severity of the weather rendering the possibility of pursuit incredible. None, but the similarly situated, can imagine the impatience of Roberts as he watched the preparations. Without food, and half frozen, yet all unconscious of physical suffering, he watched with fervid impatience for midnight. It came, but still the sentinel Indian slept not. As hour after hour passed, the sleepless watcher still sat by the blazing fire. To endure longer was impossible. Roberts, with the desperation of a madman, crept closer and closer to the quick-eared sentinel, till he could grasp him with his hand. With a sudden spring he clutched the throat of the Indian, whose half uttered" ugh!" had nearly betrayed his presence, and wakened his slumbering companions. To draw a knife across the throat, still keeping tight his grasp, was but the work of a moment. Then, creeping stealthily from one to another, this despe rate man slew Indian after Indian. Each victim, as he partly roused from sleep mingling the emphatic "ugh!" with the gurgling sound of the ebbing life tide. Not one of that fated band escaped. Then loosing his daughter, the over-taxed nature of the man became trembling and weak as the captive child. One after another the captives were set free; and when the scouters from the Mohawk castle, two days after the massacre at Schenectady, set off in pursuit, they met Roberts returning with the recaptured captives. The other band of Indians, following afterward to look for their companions, found twenty-five stark bodies, with throats cut from ear to ear, as terrible witnesses to a husband's and father's REVENGE. On returning to his dwelling, Roberts found all where he left it. Upon the floor lay his wife, with scalp untouched, the Indians having, in the hnrry of departure, neglected to return to fire his dwelling. A RAINY DAY. READER, did you ever pass a rainy day in the country? If so, you have some idea of the nondescript character of the scene,— a thick murky fog, hanging all day long in the self-same spot,enshrouding every thing in its misty mantle, having not even the accompaniment of lightning-flashes, or the deep-toned thunder bass to give variety to the performance. We refer to such a day, as would tempt an Englishman to hang himself in very spleen, making his way through wet streets, or shut up in his own cloisters, engaged in the pleasing task of tracing, all day long, the devious windings of the element pattering in quiet drops on his dim window-panes,--3uggestive of nothing else than somnolence and sleep. Wonder not, therefore, if, in such a state of things, ome drops of rain fall into our communication, which must be our only apology for inflicting on thine ear this dull, prosaic performance. And yet a rainy day has its pleasures! Start not, delicate female, whose timid foot irketh the very idea of stepping abroad, and in regard to whom, every fresh gust of the inky element sends thee shivering, with new apprehension, to the window. Nor thou, disciple of Esculapius, wrapped in thy shaggy garment, armed with thy stout preservatives of weather-proof leather and well-lined beaver, making thy desperate way through the tempest on thine errand of mercy. The drivings of the storm without shall but give fresh impulse to the flowings of the kindly current within, as thou pursuest thy rough way to the abode of the humble cottager. The tempest shall rage abroad, and the rain drench the straw-roofed thatch, only to open more effectually the sluices of thy benevolent heart, in that noblest of occupations, the bestowment of Heaven's bounties on the suffering and afflicted. But the poor peasant himself, how shall he bear the visitation of the pattering rain, when it bears down on his defenceless had through his habitation! God help the poor when it rains, for too often, man has little mercy upon them! In regard to the contact of the element itself, how delightful is the idea of going abroad to meet it, and by the dint of a hearty resolution, to overcome the invader, thoroughly encased with material for the attack. The very excitement which the scene produces, itself furnishes a motive for the highest pleasure,-such as the mind derives from the circumstance of having overcome great obstacles, which serve only to stimulate in a higher degree its powers. But a rainy day has advantages of another kind. How often, when the sky is lowering without, and a gloomy curtain hangs over the face of nature, has the mind turned in upon itself, from the contemplation of its own resources deriving pleasures abundant and refreshing. How many of those immortal productions which have won the homage and admiration of mankind have owed their origin to the inspiration of such scenes! Ford undoubtedly wrote his Trivia, or Art of Walking the Streets of London, under the influence of a rainy atmosphere, and his verse does not belie the effect of such an influence. How has the great master of the drama also depicted the character of the frenzied Lear, 'biding the peltings of that pitiless storm,' imaging forth that more terrible storm within-the ingratitude of his own daughters ! Graphic indeed is the shadowing! "I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness: I never gave you kingdoms, called you children;--- Thus Milton also in describing the effects of the Fall, exclaims : 66 Sky lowered, and muttering thunder, some sad drops Wept at completion of the mortal sin Original." Who can doubt that these and other passages were written under the influence of a rainy day? Egypt-first home of civilization and of science-birth-place of that statue which at sunrise sent forth strains limpid and refreshing-clime of the Nile and the Pyramids-repository of those hieroglyphics whose key was stolen by Champollion,-how would I fly to thee; for in thee it never rains! But a rainy day has its romance also. Henceforth talk not of fire; water is the true element of heroes. From that famous night, when, lighted by love's torch, Leander crossed the Hellespont, to that last fatal embarkation with her highland seducer, of Lord Ullin's daughter, water has mingled in every high emprise of lovers and the loved-the true heroes and heroines of the world. Does not Shakspeare say "her eyes rained starry influences." Forgive the chance pun, reader, Napoleon was defeated at the Battle of Water-loo. And did not the wife of Socrates storm? Yonder see that couple under an umbrella. The rain beats down upon them, illy-protected by their artificial roof,-now driving full in their faces, anon blinding their eyes by its bewildering mist, rendering their course sufficiently hazardous, as, with unsteady footing, they take their way along the distant street. The storm increases, but they heed it not, for in their hearts Love has lighted its vestal fire, which renders them insensible to the chilling influences from without-nay, gives even a pleasurable excitement to the scene. Closer they draw into proximity, each rendering mutual aid to the other; and united in the perilous adventure, the soft touch, the delicious thrill, for the first time felt, will return to them in after years, as the first breathings of a sentiment inspired under an umbrella. |