. Book of the Royal blue . THE LEGEND OF ISLAND PARK. IIY MISS JBNNIE CHAMBERS. ALONG time ago. on the nld hills andmountains surroundinii Harpers Ferry,there were no houses, no beautifulyards and gardens tracing the marks ofcivilization and refinement. .Eolus tunedhis harp and played among the branches ofthe great oaks and pine trees, whose denseshade covered a safe retreat from the fierceeye of the savage for the panting deer, andwild beasts, who were so often the victimsof the chase. .d while meditating on these things wetremble at the rustle of a leaf, fearingthat the spirit of some shadow
. Book of the Royal blue . THE LEGEND OF ISLAND PARK. IIY MISS JBNNIE CHAMBERS. ALONG time ago. on the nld hills andmountains surroundinii Harpers Ferry,there were no houses, no beautifulyards and gardens tracing the marks ofcivilization and refinement. .Eolus tunedhis harp and played among the branches ofthe great oaks and pine trees, whose denseshade covered a safe retreat from the fierceeye of the savage for the panting deer, andwild beasts, who were so often the victimsof the chase. .d while meditating on these things wetremble at the rustle of a leaf, fearingthat the spirit of some shadowing formmay be lurking near, and we turn in thetwilight expectantly, to catch a glancefrom the dusky faces peering at us frombehind the rocks, for dearer to him thanlife were these hunting grounds to thepoor Indian. Here in imagination we seethe Indian maiden chasing the gazelle fromcliff to cliff, while the fierce cry of the eagle. ISLAND PAItK AT HARIEKS KEUKV. While wandering oer these hills at theclose of a summers day, the cool breathof evening soothingly fanning our brows,and toying with the golden locks of thelittle children as they ramble among thelaurels and evergreens, ever and anon a gladvoice of triumph sweetly echoing throughthe hills as some beautiful butterfly is madecaptive while sipping the sweets of thebuttercups and daisies, the white wing ofthe Dove of Peace hovers so sweetlyover this picturesque scene, that it almostoershadows the wild picture hung far inthe background in the gallery of history. penetrates the air above, reverberating inthe valley below, as it vehemently protectsits young from the invasion. We see thej)anther and deer drinking from the samestream where now the tinkling bells of thelowing herd harmoniously blend with thesweet voice of nature, as it wanders forthat morn or eventide, to quench its thirstin the bright waters of the Shenandoah orPotomac. We see Kee-sha-mon-e-doo (
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Keywords: ., bookauthorbaltimoreandohiorailr, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890
