s only son
who, with his wife, had slept many years in the house of death. Her
name was Mary, and well might she be the object of all the earthly
affections which still beat in the bosom of one whom death had made
acquainted with sorrow, and who but for her had been alone.

Mary had now seen the harvest gathered in seventeen times. She was the
most beautiful of all the maidens of the land. She was tall and
slender, with a dark expressive eye, whose slow movements seemed full
of soul and sincerity. Her hair was of a glossy black, parted upon a
forehead of dazzling whiteness, and shading a cheek which vied in its
blush with the pale rose of the wilds. And snow was not whiter than
her stately neck, and rounded arm, and little hand.

They had been settled in the valley of Pomperaug but a few moons, when
an application from the aged priest to purchase a portion of the young
chief's lands brought him to the cabin of the former. It was a bright
morning in autumn, and, while he was talking with the priest at the
door, the lovely maiden, who had been gathering flowers, the late
flowers of the season, in the adjacent woods, passed by them, and
entered the hut. The eye of the young chief followed her with the gaze
of entrancement. His face shone as if he had seen a vision of more
than earthly beauty, some bright spirit of the air. But this emotion
was visible only for a moment. With the habitual self-command of those
who are trained in the wilds, he turned again to the aged priest, and
calmly pursued the subject which occasioned their meeting.

Pomperaug went away, but he carried the image of the beautiful maiden
with him. He retired to his wigwam, but it did not please him--a
vacant and dissatisfied feeling filled his bosom. He went to the top
of the high rock, at the foot of which his hut was situated, and,
seating himself upon the broad flat stone, cast his eyes over the
river, upon which the beams of the morning were just beginning to cast
their quivering light. The scene, once so pleasing, afforded him no
joy. He turned away, and sent his long gaze over the checkered leaves
of the forest, which spread like a sea over the beautiful valley. He
was still dissatisfied. With a bound he sprang from the rock into the
valley, and, alighting on his feet, snatched his bow, and took the
path which led into the forest. In a few moments he returned listless
and vacant, and, seating himself upon the rock, brooded for many hours
in silen