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Wednesday June 10, 1829
Vol. II, no. 10
Page 4, col. 1a



 From the N. Y. Commercial Advertiser.


 From the blood stained track of ruthless war,
 An Indian boy had fled;
Remote from his house in the wild woods far,
 A moss bank pillowed his head.

His glossy hair was damp with dew,
 His air was mild and meek-
And it seemed that a straggling tear or two
 Had wandered down his cheek.

For he saw in his dream the bayonets gleam,
 He saw his kindred fall;
And he heard his mother's dying scream,
 And the crackling flames take all.

In his feverish sleep he turned and rolled,
 'Mid the fern and the wild flowers gay;
And his little hand fell on a rattlesnake's fold,
 As coil'd in the herbage it lay.

His head the stately reptile rais'd
 Unclos'd his fiery eye;
On the sleeping boy for a moment he gazed,
 Then pass'd him harmless by.

'Twas well, young savage, well for thee,
 It was only the serpent's lair;
Thy fate perchance would different by,
 Had the white man slumbered there. Template for Vol 2 articles