The pictorial sketch-book of Pennsylvania : or, its scenery, internal improvements, resources, and agriculture, popularly described . rdered all the relations of Logan, evenmy women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature ; thiscalled on me for revenge. I have fought for it. I have killed many. I have9 N 98 LOCOMOTIVE SKETCHES. fully glutted my vengeance. For my country I rejoice at the beams of peace :but do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn f
The pictorial sketch-book of Pennsylvania : or, its scenery, internal improvements, resources, and agriculture, popularly described . rdered all the relations of Logan, evenmy women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature ; thiscalled on me for revenge. I have fought for it. I have killed many. I have9 N 98 LOCOMOTIVE SKETCHES. fully glutted my vengeance. For my country I rejoice at the beams of peace :but do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan ?Not one! Such was the great Indian orator who once frequented these loftymountains and rich rolling valleys. Such was the son of the greatCayuga Chief—Logan. The Juniata was the favorite retreat of theIndian, and no wonder ! If it is wild and beautiful now, what mustit have been in its primitive glory—when the Indian alone was mon-arch of all he surveyed !.—when he pursued the roving deer amidst thesolitude of the deep forest, or skimmed the blue waters of the streamin his light canoe ! Apropos, a favorite song:. BRIGHT ALFARATA OP THE BLUE JUNIATA. Wild roved an Indian girl, Bright Alfarata,Where sweep the waters Of the blue Juniata 1 MVETIOWN—NEWTON HAMILTON. 99 Swift as an antelopeThrough the forest going,Loose were her jetty locksIn wavy tresses flowing. Gay was the mountain song Of bright Alfarata—Where sweep the waters Of the blue and true my arrows are,In my painted quiver—Swift goes my light canoe,A-down the rapid river. Bold is my warrior good, The love of Alfarata,Proud waves his snowy plume Along the and low he speaks to me,And then his war-cry sounding,Kings his voice in thunder loudFrom height to height resounding. So sang the Indian girl, Bright Alfarata,Where sweep the waters Of the blue years have borne awayThe voice of Alfarata,Still sweeps the river on Blue Juniata. Twelve miles above Lewistown
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade, booksubjectminesandmineralresources
