,

"Thou wast the child of Manneyto
He gave thee arrows and an eye,--
Thou wast the strong son of Manneyto,
He gave thee feathers and a wing,--
Thou wast a young brave of Manneyto,
He gave thee scalps and a war-song,--
But he knows thee no more--he knows thee no more."

And the clustering multitude again gave back the last line in wild
chorus. The prophet continued his chant:

"That Opitchi-Manneyto!--
He commands thee for his slave--
And the Yemassee must hear him,
Hear, and give thee for his slave--
They will take from thee the arrow,
The broad arrow of thy people,--
Thou shalt see no blessed valley,
Where the plum-groves always bloom--
Thou shalt hear no songs of valour,
From the ancient Yemassee--
Father, mother, name, and people,
Thou shalt lose with that broad arrow,
Thou art lost to the Manneyto,--
He knows thee no more--he knows thee no more."

The despair of hell was in the face of the victim, and he howled
forth, in a cry of agony that for a moment silenced the wild chorus of
the crowd around, the terrible consciousness in his mind of that
privation which the doom entailed upon him. Every feature was
convulsed with emotion; and the terrors of Opitchi-Manneyto's dominion
seemed already in strong exercise upon the muscles of his heart, when
Sanutee, the father, silently approached him, and with a pause of a
few moments, stood gazing upon the son from whom he was to be
separated eternally-- . . .

. . . . .

In a loud and bitter voice he exclaimed, "Thy father knows thee no
more,"--and once more came to the ears of the victim the melancholy
chorus of the multitude--"He knows thee no more, he knows thee no
more." Sanutee turned quickly away as he had spoken; and as if he
suffered more than he was willing to show, the old man rapidly
hastened to the little mound where he had been previously sitting, his
eyes averted from the further spectacle. Occonestoga, goaded to
madness by these several incidents, shrieked forth the bitterest
execrations, until Enoree-Mattee, preceding Malatchie, again
approached. Having given some directions in an under-tone to the
latter, he retired, leaving the executioner alone with his victim.
Malatchie, then, while all was silence in the crowd,--a thick silence,
in which even respiration seemed to be suspended,--proceeded to his
duty; and, lifting the feet of Occonestoga carefully from the