Yes, proof was plain that, since the day
When this ill-fated traveller died,
The dog had watched about the spot,
Or by his master's side;

How nourished here through such long time,
He knows who gave that love sublime,
And gave that strength of feeling great
Above all human estimate.

XLIV.-FEMALE HEROISM.

C. F. HOFFMAN.

UPON the banks of the River Elkhorn, in the State of Ken tucky, there was once a stockade fort* to which the settlers from the adjacent country frequently resorted as a place of refuge from the savages. Its gallant defence by a handful of pioneers † against the allied Indians of Ohio, led by two renegade white men, was one of the most desperate affairs in the Indian wars of the west. The enemy met together at the forks § of the Scioto, and planned their attack in the deep forests, a hundred miles away from the scene where it was made.

The pioneers had not the slightest idea of their approach, when in a moment a thousand rifles gleamed in the cornfields one summer's night. That very evening the garrison had chanced to gather under arms, to march to the relief of another station that was similarly invested. It was a fearful moment: an hour earlier, and the pioneers would have been cut off; an hour later, and their defenceless wives and daughters must have been butchered or carried into captivity, while their

*Stockade fort, a fort defended by a line of posts, or stakes, set in the

earth.

+ Pioneer, one who goes first into a new country.

Renegade, an expression applied to a white man who had joined the In

dians and adopted their manners and customs.

§ Fork, the point where two streams unite to form a third.

natural protectors were hurrying to the rescue of others. The Indians saw at a glance that the moment was not propitious to them; and having failed in surprising the Kentuckians, they attempted to decoy them from their fastness,* by presenting themselves in small parties before it.

The whites were too wise to risk a battle, but they knew not how to stand a siege. The fort, which was merely a collection of log cabins arranged in a hollow square, was unhappily not supplied with water. They were aware that the attacking party knew this; they were aware, too, that their real force lay in ambush near a neighboring spring, with the hope of cutting off those who should come to remedy the deficiency,

But the sagacity of a backwoodsman is sometimes more than a match for the cunning of an Indian; and the heroism of a woman may baffle the address of a warrior. The females of the station determined to supply it with water from this very spring. But how? Woman's wit never devised a bolder expedient; woman's fortitude never carried one more hazardous into successful execution. They reasoned thus: the water must be had: the women are in the habit of going for it every morning. If armed men now take that duty upon them, the Indians will think that their ambuscade is discovered, and instantly commence their assault. If the women draw the water as usual, the Indians will not unmask their concealed force, but still persevere in attempting to decoy the defenders of the station outside of its pickets.

The feint succeeded. The random shots of the decoy party were returned with a quick fire from one side of the fort, while the women issued from the other, as if they apprehended no enemy in that quarter. Could any thing be more appalling than the task before them? But they shrink not from it; they move carelessly from the gate; they advance with composure in a body to the spring; they are within shot of five hundred warriors. The slightest alarm will betray them; if they show any

* Fastness, a strong or protected place.

consciousness of their thrilling situation, their doom is inevitable. But their nerves do not shrink; they wait calmly for one another till each fills her bucket in succession. The Indians are completely deceived, and not a shot is fired. The band of heroines retrace their steps with steady feet; their movement soon becomes more agitated; it is at last hurried. But tradition says that the only water spilt was as their buckets crowded together in passing the gate.

A sheet of living fire from the garrison, and the screams of the wounded Indians around the spring, told that they were safe, and spoke the triumph of their friends. Insane with wrath to be thus outwitted, the foe rushed from his covert, and advanced with fury upon the rifles of the pioneers. But who could conquer the fathers and brothers of such women. The Indians were foiled; they withdrew their forces; but on counting the number of their slain, they burned with vengeance, and rallied once more to the fight. They were again and again repulsed. Assistance at last came to the pioneers, and the savages were compelled to retreat to their wildwood haunts

once more.

XLV. ON PRESENCE OF MIND.

ALTERED FROM EVENING ENTERTAINMENTS.

Eliza. Mother, what is presence of mind?

Mrs. F. It is that steady possession of ourselves, in cases of alarm, that prevents us from being flurried and frightened. You have heard the expression of having all our wits about us. This is the effect of presence of mind, and a most inestimable quality it is; for without it we are quite as likely to run into danger as to avoid it. Do you not remember hearing of your cousin Mary's cap taking fire in the candle?

E. O, yes, very well.

Mrs. F. The maid, as soon as she saw it, set up a great scream, and ran out of the room; and Mary might have been burned to death for any assistance she could give her.

E. How foolish that was!

Mrs. F. Yes; the girl had not the least presence of mind, and in consequence thereof, lost all recollection, and became entirely useless. But as soon as your aunt came up, she took the right method for preventing the mischief. The cap was too much on fire to be pulled off; so she snatched a quilt from the bed, and flung it round Mary's head, and thus stifled the flame. E. Mary was a good deal burned, though.

Mrs. F. Yes, but it was very well that it was no worse. If the maid, however, had acted with any sense at first, no harm at all would have been done, except burning the сар. I remember a much more fatal example of the want of presence of mind. The mistress of a family was awakened by flames bursting into her chamber. She flew to the staircase; and in her confusion, instead of going up stairs to call her children, who slept together in the nursery overhead, and who might all have escaped by the top of the house, she ran down, and with much danger made way through the fire into the street. When there, the thought of her poor children rushed into her mind; but it was too late. The stairs had caught fire, so that nobody could get near them, and they were burned in their beds.

E. What a sad thing!

Mrs. F. Sad indeed! Now I will tell you of a different conduct. A lady was awakened by the crackling of fire, and saw it shining under her chamber floor. Her husband would immediately have opened the door; but she prevented him, since the smoke and flame would then have burst in upon them. The children slept in a room opening out of theirs. She went and awakened them; and tying together the sheets and blankets, she let down the children one by one. Last of all, she descended herself. A few minutes after, the floor fell in, and all the house was in flames.

E. What a happy escape!

Mrs. F. Yes; and with what cool self-possession it was managed! For mothers to love their children, and be willing

to run any hazards for them, is common; but love alone will not prompt what should be done in moments of danger and alarm. A lady, once, seeing her little boy climb up a high ladder, set up a violent scream, that frightened the child, so that he fell down, and was much hurt; whereas, if she had possessed command enough over herself to speak to him gently, he might have got down safely.

of

E. I am afraid I should do the same, if I should see one my little brothers on a high ladder.

Mrs. F. Then you would not be doing a wise thing. The occasions which most try our presence of mind are those in which the danger presses upon others as well as upon ourselves. Suppose a furious bull were to come upon you in the midst of a field. You could not possibly escape him by running, and attempting it would destroy your only chance of safety.

E. What would that be?

Mrs. F. I have a story for that too. The mother of that Mr. Day who wrote Sanford and Merton was distinguished, as he also was, for courage and presence of mind. When a young woman, she was one day walking in the fields with a companion, when they perceived a bull coming towards them, roaring and tossing about his horns in the most tremendous manner. E. O, how I should have screamed!

Few ani

Mrs. F. I dare say you would; and so did her companion. But she bade her walk away behind her as quietly as she could, while she herself stopped short, and faced the bull, eying him with a determined countenance. The bull, when he had come near, stopped also, pawing the ground and roaring. mals will attack one who steadily waits for them. In a few moments, she drew back some steps, still facing the bull. The bull followed; she stopped, and then he stopped. In this manner, she made good her retreat to the stile* over which her companion had before got. She then turned and sprang over

it, and got out of danger.

* Stile, a set of steps by which a hedge or fence is passed over.