THE INDIAN BRIDE,

A REFUGEE'S STORY.


On the margin of a bright blue western stream stood a small fort,
surrounding the dwellings of some hunters who had penetrated thus far
into the vast wilderness to pursue their calling. The huts they raised
were rude and lowly, and yet the walls surrounding them were high and
lofty. Piles of arms filled their block house, and a constant guard was
kept. These precautions were taken to protect them from the Indians,
whose ancient hunting grounds they had intruded on, and whose camp was
not far distant. Deadly dealings had passed between them, but the
whites, strong in number and in arms, heeded little the settled malice
of their foes, and after taking the usual precautions of defence,
carried on their hunting, shooting an Indian, or ought else that came
across them, while the others, savage and unrelenting, kept on their
trail in hope of vengeance.

Strange was it, that in an atmosphere dark as this, the light of love
should beam. Leemah, a beautiful Indian girl, met in the forest a young
white hunter. She loved, and was beloved in return. The roses of the few
summers she had lived glowed warm upon her cheek, and truth flashed in
the guileless light of her deep dark eyes--but Leemah was already a
bride, betrothed in childhood to a chieftain of her tribe; he had now
summoned her to his dwelling, and her business in the forest was
collecting materials for her bridal store of box and basket. Her