n. "I am here to make them sport, like Samson
among the Philistines. Their paradise would be no paradise to them if
they had not a pale-face, as they say, to scalp and tomahawk. And I am
that pale-face. Before you can say 'scalping-knife' these awful Apaches
may be on me, taking my scalp and other leeberties with my person. It
grows again, my scalp does, immediately; but that's only that they may
take it some other day." The full horror of Mr. McSnadden's situation
now dawned upon me, but at the same time I could not but perceive that,
without the presence of some pale-face to torture--Peter or
another--paradise would, indeed, be no paradise to a Red Indian. In the
same way Tertullian (or some other early Father) has remarked that the
pleasures of the blessed will be much enhanced by what they observe of
the torments of the wicked. As I was reflecting thus two wild yells
burst upon my hearing. One came from a band of Apache spirits who had
stolen into the Ojibbeway village; the other scream was uttered by my
unfortunate friend. I confess that I fled with what speed I might, nor
did I pause till the groans of the miserable Peter faded in the distance.
He was, indeed, a man in the wrong paradise.

In my anxiety to avoid sharing the fate of Peter at the hands of the
Apaches, I had run out of sight and sound of the Ojibbeway village. When
I paused I found myself alone, on a wide sandy tract, at the extremity of
which was an endless thicket of dark poplar-trees, a grove dear to
Persephone. Here and there in the dank sand, half buried by the fallen
generations of yellow poplar-leaves, were pits dug, a cubit every way,
and there were many ruinous altars of ancient stones. On some were
engraved figures of a divine pair, a king and queen seated on a throne,
while men and women approached them with cakes in their hands or with the
sacrifice of a cock. While I was admiring these strange sights, I beheld
as it were a moving light among the deeps of the poplar thicket, and
presently saw coming towards me a young man clad in white raiment and of
a radiant aspect. In his hand he bore a golden wand whereon were wings
of gold. The first down of manhood was on his lip; he was in that season
of life when youth is most gracious. Then I knew him to be no other than
Hermes of the golden rod, the guide of the souls of men outworn. He took
my hand with a word of welcome, and led me through the gloom of the
poplar trees.

Lik