. Book of the Royal blue . THE LEGEND OF ISLAND PARK. IIY MISS .lENXIK CIIAMIIKKS. ALOXf! time aso. on the nld hills amimountains surroundinji Harpers Ferry,there were no houses, no beautifulyards and gardens tracing the marks ofcivilization and retinement. .4^olus 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. And while meditating on these wetremble at the rustle of a leaf, fearingthat the sjiirit of som
. Book of the Royal blue . THE LEGEND OF ISLAND PARK. IIY MISS .lENXIK CIIAMIIKKS. ALOXf! time aso. on the nld hills amimountains surroundinji Harpers Ferry,there were no houses, no beautifulyards and gardens tracing the marks ofcivilization and retinement. .4^olus 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. And while meditating on these wetremble at the rustle of a leaf, fearingthat the sjiirit 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 the])oor Intiian. Here in imagination we seethe Indian maiden chasing the gazelle fromcliff tn cliff, while the fierce cry of the eagle. lARIKlis Ki:iaiv. 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 sijjping the sweets of thebuttercups and daisies, the white wing ofthe Dove of Peace hovers so sweetlyover this ])ictures(]ue scene, that it almostoershadows the wild picture hung far inthe background in thi- gallery of history. penetrates the air above, reverberating inthe valley below, as it vehemently i)rotectsits young from the invasion. We see thepanther and deer driid^ing 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 oriotomac. We see Kee-sha-mon-e-doo (the angr
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Keywords: ., bookauthorbaltimoreandohiorailr, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890
