SECTION XIX.

I.

69. THE EMIGRANT'S SONG.

OID adieu to the homestead, adieu to the vale;

B

Though the memory recalls them, give grief to the gale: Thêre the hearths are unlighted, the embers are black, Where the feet of the onward shall never turn back.

For as well might the stream that comes down from the mount,
Glåncing up, heave the sigh to return to its fount:
Yět the lordly Ohio feels joy in his breast

As he follows the sun onward into the West.

2. Oh! to roam, like the rivers, through empires of woods, Where the king of the eagles in majesty broods;

Or to ride the wild horse ō'er the boundlèss domain, And to drag the wild buffalo down to the plain; There to chase the fleet stag, and to track the huge bear, And to face the lithe1 panther at bay in his lâir, Are à joy which ålōne cheers the pioneer's breast; For the only true hunting-ground lies in the West! 3. Leave the tears to the maiden, the fears to the child, While the future stands beckoning afar in the wild ; For there Freedom, more fair, walks the primeval 2 land, Where the wild deer all court the caress of her hand. There the deep forèsts fall, and the old shadōws fly, And the palace and temple leap into the sky. Oh, the East holds no place where the onward can rest, And ålōne there is room in the land of the West!

H

II.

70. LIFE IN THE WEST.

READ.3

O! brothers-come hither and list to my story-
Měrry and brief will the narrative be :

! Lithe, pliant; limber.

2 Prī mē'val, primitive; belonging to the earliest times; original.

3 Thomas Buchanan Read, an American painter and poet, was born

in Chester Co., Pa., March 12, 1822. A new edition of his poetical works in a collected form appeared in 1860. His verse is musical and his descriptions beautiful. He died May, 1872.

Here, like å monarch, I reign in my glōry

Måster am I, boys, of all that I see.

Where once frowned å forèst, a gärden is smiling-
The meadow and moorland are marshes no mōre;
And thêre eûrls the smoke of my cottage, beguiling
The children who cluster like grapes at the door.
Then enter, boys; cheerly, boys, enter and rest;
The land of the heart is the land of the West.

2. Talk not of the town, boys-give me the broad prāirie ; Where man, like the wind, roams impulsive and free; Behold how its beautiful colors all vary,

Like those of the clouds, or the deep-rolling sea!
A life in the woods, boys, is even as changing:
With proud independence we season our cheer;
And those who the world are for happinèss ranging,
Won't find it at all, if they don't find it here.
Then enter, boys; cheerly, boys, enter and rest;
I'll show you the life, boys, we live in the West.

3. Here, brothers, secure from all turmoil and danger,
We reap what we sow; for the soil is our own :
We spread hospitǎlity's bōard for the stranger,
And câre not å fig for the king on his throne.
We never know want, for we live by our labor,
And in it contentment and happiness find;
We do what we can for å friend or a neighbor,
And die, boys, in peace and good-will to mankind.
Then enter, boys; cheerly, boys, enter and rest;
You know how we live, boys, and die in the West!

III.

GEO. P. MORRIS.

70. THE BISON TRACK,

1.

TRIKE the tent! the sun has rişen ; not å vapor streaks the dawn,

STRIK

And the frosted prairie brightens to the westward, far and wan:

Prime ȧfresh the trusty rifle-sharpen well the hunting spear;

For the frozen sod is trembling, and a noise of hoofs I hear!

2.

Fiercely stamp the tethered horses, as they snuff the morning'ş fire ; Their impatient heads are tossing, and they neigh with keen desire. Strike the tent! the saddles wait us-let the bridle-reins be slackFor the prairie'ş distant thunder has betrayed the bison's track.

3.

See! å dusky line approaches: hark! the onward sûrging rōar,
Like the din of wintry breakers on å sounding wall of shōre!
Dust and sand behind them whirling, snort the fōremōst of the van,
And their stubborn horns are chasing through the crowded eăr ́avan.

4.

-Now the storm is down upon us : let the maddened horses go!
We shall ride the living whirlwind, though å hundred leagues it blow!
Though the cloudy manes should thicken, and the red eyes' angry glâre
Lighten round us as we gallop through the sand and rushing âir!

5.

Myriad hoofs will scar the prairie, in our wild, resistlèss race,
And a sound, like mighty waters, thunders down the desert space ;
Yet the rein may not be tightened, nor the rider's eyes look back—
Death to him whose speed should släcken, on the maddened bisons' track!

6.

Now the trampling herds are threaded, and the chase is close and warm
For the giant bull that gallops in the edges of the storm:

Swiftly hûrl the whizzing lasso-swing your rifles as we run :
See! the dust is red behind him—shout, my comrades, he is won!

7.

Look not on him as he staggers—'tis the last shot he will need !
Mōre shall fall, åmỏng his fellōws, ere we run the mad stampede 2—
Ere we stem the brindèd 3 breakers, while the wolves, å hungry pack,
Howl around each grim-eyed carcass, on the bloody bison track!

C

SECTION XX.

I.

72. THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS.

APTAIN JOHN HULL was the mint-måster of Massa

chusetts, and coined all the money that was made thêre. This was ȧ new line of businèss; for, in the earlier days of the colony, the current coinage consisted of gold and silver money of England, Portugal, and Spain. These coins being scârce, the people were often fōrced to barter their commodities, instead of selling them. For instance, if a man wanted to buy à cōat, he perhaps exchanged a beâr-skin for it. If he wished for a barrel of molasses, he might purchase it with a pile of pine bōards.

2. Musket-bullets were used instead of farthings. The Indians had a sort of money, called wampum, which was made of clam-shells; and this strange sort of specie was likewise taken in payment of debts, by the English settlers. Bank-bills had never been heard of. There was not money enough of any kind, in many parts of the country, to pay the salaries of the ministers; so that they sometimes had to take quintals of fish, bushels of corn, or cords of wood, instead of silver or gold.

3. As the people grew more numerous, and their trade one with another increased, the want of current money was still more sensibly felt. To supply the demand, the general court påssed a law for establishing a coinage of shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Captain John Hull was appointed to manufacture this money, and was to have åbout one shilling out of ěvèry twenty, to pay him for the trouble of making them.

4. Hereupon, all the old silver in the colony was handed over to Captain John Hull. The battered silver cans and tankards, I suppose, and silver buckles, and brōken spoons, and silver buttons of worn-out coats, and silver hilts of swords that had figured at courts—all such curious old articles were doubtless thrown into the melting-pot together. But by far the greater part of the silver consisted of bullion 1 from the mines of South Aměrica, which the English buccaneers-who were little better

1

1 Bullion (bul'yun), uncoined gold or silver in the måss.

than pirates-had taken from the Spaniards, and brought to Massachusetts.

5. All this old and new silver being melted down and coined, the result was an immense amount of splendid shillings, sixpences, and threepençeş.1 Each had the date, 1652, on the one side, and the figure of å pine-tree on the other. Hence they were called pine-tree shillings. And for every twenty shillings that he coined, you will remember, Căptain John Hull was entitled to put one shilling into his own pocket.

6. The magistrates soon began to suspect that the mintmåster would have the best of the bargain. They offered him a large sum of money if he would but give up that twěntiëth shilling, which he was continually dropping into his own pocket. But Captain Hull declared himself perfectly satisfied with the shilling. And well he might be ; for so diligently did he labor, that, in a few years, his pockets, his money-bags, and his strong box, were overflowing with pine-tree shillings. This was probably the case when he came into possession of Grandfather's châir; and, as he had worked so hard at the mint, it was cẽrtainly proper that he should have a comfortable chair to rest himself in.

7. When the mint-måster had grown věry rich, å young man, Samuel Sewell by name, came a cōurting to his only daughter. His daughter-whose name I do not know, but we will call her Betsey-was a fine, hearty damsel, by no means so slender as some young ladies of our own days. On the contrary, having always fed heartily on pumpkin-pies, doughnuts, Indian puddings, and other Puritan dainties, she was as round and plump as a pudding herself.

8. With this round, rosy Miss Betsey, did Samuel Sewell fall in love. As he was a young man of good eharacter, industrious in his business, and a member of the church, the mint-måster věry readily gave his consent. "Yes, you may take her," said he, in his rough way; "and you'll find her a heavy burden enough!"

9. On the wedding-day, we may suppose that honest John Hull dressed himself in à plum-colored coat, all the buttons of which were made of pine-tree shillings. The buttons of his

1 Threepence (thrip'ens).