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The new era. [volume] (Sauk Rapids, Min. [i.e. Minn.]) 1860-1861, June 21, 1860, Image 1

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THE NEW 13 It A.
literary department,
M \mrc to enjny myself. That place tha does
CbaUia my books, ibe best companions, is
I*o me a glorious Court, where hourly I
Uonversc with the old Sages and Philosophers.)
Life in the Woods.
No. 16.
We promised to tell you the dream
of Ki-shig-o-qua. We find, however,
that, according to the custom of dreams
in general, it has faded in memory, to
a comparative indistinctness, and we
can give it but in brief.
It is a custom among Indian maidens
on arriving at womanhood, to separate
themselves from their relatives and
friends, and, in some secluded spot of
forest or grove, endure a fast for a suc
cession of days and nights: until, in
fact, be it longer or shorter, the dream
spirit vouchsafes her communion, and
unfolds to the subject of the lonely vigil
the destiny that fateful fortune has in
store for her.
Ke-shig-o-qua had fasted several
days—until, faint from hunger and hope
deferred, she began to despair of gain
ing the favor of the dream-spirit.—
Dreading the discomfiture of returning
to her friends with her object unaccom
plished, and still resolved to invoke
again the unpropitious goddess, she
threw herself upon the ground, and after
mumbling her incantations, sank into
siumber. And this was her dream.
She was wandering alone upon a
lonely road. She was hungry and
thirsty, faint and weary. The hot suu
scorched her uncovered head, the hot
sand parched her naked feet. No tents
appeared by the wayside; no trace of
human habitation. She met no wan
derer, even as lonely as herself. No
prospect of food soothed her longing
eyes; no rivulet of sparkling water
gushed forth to quench her intolerable
thirst. At length, when her footsteps
were about to fail, and hope no longer
sustained her, a distant object met her
view. By slow and painful progress,
she reached what proved to be an erec
tion of poles, upon which were suspend
ed a vast number of skins of animals,
for Ihe purpose of seasoning a 9 was the
custom of her people.
Judging from this that somo of her
tribe were near, she took fresh courage,
and after resting awhile beneath the
friendly shade formed by the skins,
pursued her toilsome journey. Again,
after a weary pilgrimage of hours, was
her strength and her faith failing, when
she was gladdened by the sight of a tent
that appeared suddenly close by. En
tering it with, at least, eager expectation
of food and water, nothing met her view
but the dripping scalps of many Sioux.
She was prevented only by heat and
exhaustion from fleeing with horror
and disgust. After a few hours rest,
she agnin set out upon the road The
sun had now long past the meridian, *o
the heat was less oppressive, and the
unshaded pathway seemed not so tire
some as before. Nor was it long until
she came upon an Indian lodge wherein
she found plenty of freshly slain deer
and birds, and a great quantity of ripe,
yellow corn: and looking about still
more searchingly, she espied a kettlo
full of the food already cooked. Of this
she ate until het hunger was appeased.
Here she awoke; and instantly de
termined to return to her friends that
those gifted with wisdom might inter
pret her dream, and that thus might end
her period of fasting. What was her
surprise and sorrow when informed that
her dream admitted of but partial inter
pretation—and that she must go back
and again invoke tke dream-spirit.—
Thoughtful, sad, and almost hopeless,
she returned to her solitude ; and when
sleep stole over her, again she wander
ed in the land of dreams.
She stood by the shore of a pleasant
lake. No breeze rippled its placid sur
face: the clear, blue sky was reflected
in its limpid waters, and soft shadows of
graceful trees made beautiful its margin.
She was wrapped in delight with the
loveliness of the scene, while birds of
gay and glittering plumage, above and
around her, warbled melodies in her
ear. Presently appeared by her side
a young Indian, tall, erect, and clad in
skins of wild beasts. He saluted her
cordially, and pointing to a couple of
birch-bark canoes that were anchored
to slender saplings, chalenged her to a
trial of speed. He said: 'Twill enter
one—you the othea. We will ply the
Edited by W. H. WOOD and Motto— “ Freedom i* the only safeguard of Government, and Order and Moderation are necesary to Freedom.”-
YOL. 1- —HO. 24.
oar with our utmost strength. Whoev
er reaches first the opposite shore, let
thnt one be proclaimed the victor.” —
The boats were unmoored and the trial
commenced. For a time they held even
way, shooting over the smooth surface
of the lake with wonderful velocity. At
length Ke-shig-o-qua heard her com
panion question—“ Are you not weary
of the chase; do you not wish to rest ?”
but ambitious of success, she did not
heed him, and pursued her way. At
length she turned to look for him whom
she had distanced in the race—and 10,
he had disappeared. Another was in
his place, whose face was less youthful
and smiling, more thoughtful and stern.
As he stood in the canoe, Ke-shig-o-qua
saw suspended from his belt scalps of
the hated enemy—the §ioux. The
sternness of his aspect awed her; hut
he said, “Ke-sig-o-qua, your com
panion has fainted by the way ; I will
take his place, and strive with you for
victory in the race for life;” and seating
himself, he took up the paddles, and
came along side with the canoe of the
Indian maiden. The waters were now
scarcely as bright and clear as they had
been. A few faint clouds were floating
upon the azure, and a gentle wind had
ruffled the waters into just perceptible
ripples. Neither spoke, but plied stead
ily the oar, while gradually the clouds
gathered more (hick and dark, and the
winds wrought the tiny ripples into
great waves. Suddenly down sank the
Indian’s canoe, and when again it
emerged from the engulfing waves, lie
who sat therein was not the warrior
with the bloody trophies of his enemies
slain, but a man past the prime of life,
whose hair was slightly gray, and form
somewhat bowed. Shaggy skins of bears
formed his principal dress,while about his
waist, in place of warlike insignia, hung
ears of golden corn, bound each by its
silken tassel to a headed belt. Peace
ful, but brave and noble, was the coun
tenance of this man, and when he an
nounced himself to the Indian maiden
as her third competitor in the race for
life, she felt new confidence, and ac
cepted the challenge. More slow and
difficult now was the progress of the two
canoes. The heavens were dark as
night with clouds, loud thunders rolled,
and flash nfter flash of lightning reveal
ed to them the giant waves that rolled
between them and the further khore.—
Suddenly, when the distance to the
shore seemed hut little and soon to he
accomplished, Kish-ig-o-qua heard the
voice of her companion. She stopped
and listened “I can go no further,”
ho said. “You have outstripped us all
in this race—which is the race for life.
You will marry in your early youth a
famous youthful hunter. He will jour
ney with you a little while in the morn
ing of life, hut will early leave you for
more splendid hunting grounds in the
spirit land. Then a noble warrior will
woo and win you. In many battles
will he come off conqueror over the
Sioux; but the traitorous shot of the
enemy shall slay him in the prime of his
strength and manhood. When time and
sorrow shall have frosted your hair, you
will mate with ..me; and after we shall
have battled together the storms of life,
as here we have battled with the waves
of this lake, I too shall leave you—but
he will go with you to the journey’s
end,” and thus saying, ere he sank to
rise r.o more, he pointed to a gray-hair
ed Indian, who wa9 just hastening to
meet her.
At this moment she awoke; and after
recovering from the effects of so exciting
a dream, hastened to her friends
This dream was satisfactory. The
fnture had been fortold to Kish-ig-o-qua.
Scores of years had passed since then.
Here sat the old woman—then a young
girl -upon the floor of Mr. Warren’s
house, now a widow for the third time.
Her first husband had indeed been a
famous hunter. Her second a brave
warrior. Her third a hunter and’a cul-
tivator of corn. And now she was
looking out, faithful and believing, for
a fourth to go with her to the farther
A Communication from Lillie of
Fair Haven, is on file for next week.
Fancies about Flowers.
I love every flower that springs from the sod,
Each beautifully bears its impress of God;
Each has its bright eye turned meekly to ours,
Claiming from us love—love for the flowers
And who loves them not ?—has not
loved them since first they unfolded
their petals to the sunbeam, on that
glorious morn when the ’stars sang to
gether for joy ?
The flowers of Paradise ! Have you
never in your fancy, gentle reader,
formed a picture of the first-home of the
first earthly intelligences ? May we not
suppose it to have been an almost un
limited space, bounded by mountains
blue, grand and beautiful, and perhaps
partially by a dim distant sea, all blend
ing imperceptibly with the heavenly
azure ; with gently sloping plains,
streams transparently clear, flowing mu
sically along over glitte ing gems and
dazzling pearls; birds gloriously plum
aged, insects sparkling like diamonds in
the sunbeams, towering trees that bore
up to the clouds their lofty heads, their
downy culms, their velvet cuticles,
their broad green leaves delicately
veined, ripe, delicious fruits, with noth
ing unpalatable—all ambrosia for those
who were little less than Gods? O how
beautiful, how glorious was all, lighted
up with the splendor of the new Sun—
or perchance lighted only by the ?glory
of God’s smile ! We imagine this, but
is the picture complete—quite finished ?
Ah, flowers must bloom, hang pendent
from those mountain-brows, on the mar
gin of the distant sea; they must cluster
on the verdant plains, and be mirrored
in the soft flowing streams. Then as
to-day, flowers were blooming; pure
anemones and blue-eyed violets, peeped
up to the sunbeams from the green lux
uriance. Even Adam loved the rose
which at his gaze became crimsoned
with its charming blush, ere Eve with
delight pluoked it for her golden hair.
The lilly was arrayed in her snowy
robes, and gushing with perfume and
sweetness meekly drooped its head as
the happy bride of Eden stooped to kiss
its petals of purity. The cactus, with
its long stamens gracefully drooping,
presented its delicate cup filled with
dew for bathing the fingers of the first
blest wife of man; and some rare ones
there doubtless were, in whose translu
cent surfaces, she saw reflected the im
age of her own transcendent loveliness.
How enrapturing must have been her
delight, how bewildering her wonder, as
first they me( her eye ! What musical
names must she have given them, from
the new beauty, and overflowing music
of her just-formed soul! Behold her
among them the fairest flower, and frail
est of them ail !
Now, with another wafture of the
wing of fancy, the exquisite scene is no
longer before us. The eye beholds the
wing of Seraphim and Cherubim and
turns shudderingly from the flaming sword
that guards the fair lost Eden. What
a picture in contras* ! As if the beau
teous things of Paradise Had been turn
ed forth iuto Chaos all disrobed of their
glory. There are mountains bleak and
bare; the sea rolling darkly over beings
that have become hideous in its depths;
streams turbid, swollen, murmuring as if
muttering regrets, and birds unlike the
gay and glorious creatures that sang
so joyously in Paradise. Theflowers—
O the bright, bright flowers! alas, “the
trail of the serpent is over them all.”—
Less radiant, they still bear up their
bright heads, jewels of loveliness amid
the darkness around them. But not in
this, as in that picture bloom they in
luxuriance. Scattered here and there,
as if the stern angel, commissioned to
gather them from Eden, had flung them
down in sorrowful anger, with averted
eye, breathing on them yet a blessing,
that caused them to take root amid
the desert wild, in the heart of dark
forests, in the crevices of jagged rocks,
—ah, to »priug up ever beside the path
way of fallen man, to cheer the heart of
woman which turned to the still loved
flowers that yet reminded her of her lost
Throughout] all time, flowers have
been objects of love and interest to wo
man. She has given them names, and
become an interpreter of their silent [
language. She sends them as a token
to those she loves. They tremble on
her brow as she stands a bride before
the altar. She has them gathered and
flung about her when the hand of d.s
oase has laid her low, and she can no
longer wander out amid their perfumes.
She presses them blooming within her
pale fingers, and sheds a tear upon
them withered, as she sees in them nn
emblem of herself. With thoughts of
death arc woven regrets that she must
leave the bright-eyed flowers. And i
when forever her eyes are closed on
them, loving and grieving friends in
weave the hyacinth and myrtle with her
plaited hair, and place roses within her
hands folded meekly over the throbless i
bosom. And one often fancies that
more sweet will be the sleeper’s rest, if|
the flow’crs give their incense above her
quiet place of ca’fitly repose.
Flowers, next to immortal beings are
beautifully and wonderfully made.—
“They are the alphabet of angels,
whereby' they write on hills and fields
rnystei jous truths.” As such, they have
called attention from the wise and good,
while the great, yea, even the unbeliev
ing, have been won by their interesting !
characters. True, there have been |
some admirers, who in the glorious
gift have forgotten the still more glori
ous giver—or rather, while their eve
has professed to he charmed with the
beauty and precision of chance, have
chosen to shut their heart and ear to
the voice of evidence that speaks from
the very stamens and pistils and delicate
petals of a very tiny flower. Rosseau,
who much loved and studied flowers,
would weep in the excess of his sensibil
ity, yit harden his heart against the still
small voice. Linneus clasped his hands
in a transport of joy and fell upon his
knees, silently thanking God, when
many strange flowers were brought him
from the New World. One of Napo
leon’s generals when about to die, re
quested that roses should be strewn
about his room, that ’mid their sweet
perfume his spirit might pass to that
realm where flowers perrenial bloom.—
“When that dark and unknown sea
that rolls round all the world” was clos
ing around him, he felt truly tne vanity
of human glories, and called upon “ the
angels of the flowers, with look not quite
estranged, when the swift river should
bear him to the ocean.”
Wo may as well here put a period,
or we might not close atjill on so favor
ite a subject.
Rita ; An Autobiography. A new
book of great interest, from Little’s
Book Store, St. Paul, where may he
found an excellent variety of recently
published works at reasonable prices
Wilson’s Fancipanni, “an eternal
perfume,” now in great demand by all
lovers of perfumery, has found its way
to us from Charles Crawford’s, St. An
thony. It is really charming, as well as
the Cologne, “verbena” “les boquets,”
etc., received from the same source.
A saucer of nicely prepared goose
berries from a kind neighbor’s garden
was received just in time to add a de
liciousness to an otherwise spiceless sup
per. Many thanks for this and many
another like favor from the same source.
Men who are really the most tond of
ladies, who cherish for them the truest
respect, are seldom the most popular
with lh6 sex. Men of great assurance,
whose tongues are lightly hung, and
who make words supply the place of
ideas, and .place compliments in the
room of sentiment, are the favorites.—
A due respect for women leads to re
spectful actions toward them, and re
spect is mistaken by them for neglect or
want of love.
We do not base so sweeping a deduc
tion on a single fact, however signifi
cant; but wo believe young women in
this country marry more recklessly than
anywhere else. Is there a village of
fifty houses in the land wherein a plaus
ible, well-dressed adventurer, of whom
nobody knows anything, cannot marry
a girl of spotless character after a resi
dence of six weeks? Sueh marriages—
in fact, all marriage not based on inti
mate knowledge and profound esteem
as well as fervant love—ire somewhat
more reputable than what is called Free
Love, but scarcely one whit less culpa
ble or perilous.
Eor thu New Era
Of What is tho Lady Thinking.
There i« a Lady tall and fair,
With a lustrous gleam in her dark-brown hair;
Would you know of what she is thinking?
Her form i-s as lithe as the willows lone
That droop o’er the waters of Babylon;
With a step as free its the wild gn7elle’s
That esulting.'y bounds o’er Judah’s hills;
A voice as sweet as the murmuring flow
Of distant waters gashing low:
And a holy light in her dark-blue eye
Like stars that shine in a midnight sky;
Of what is the lady thinking ?
Is t of the robes her form enfolds.
Of her jewels rare or herbands of gold ?
Will she be ever ihinking ?
Is’t of of the golden sunset's glow
That bullies in beuuly her brow of snow ?
Ist of the sparkling, dimpled river
Whose wavelets fl.t»h, then gone fo.ever ?
Is it honcr, wealth, or a titled name
That shall linger long in halls of Fame?
Is i*. some dream of old romance
That binds her soul in a wild’ring trance ?
Of what can she be ever ihinking ?
The storm-clouds gather, she hearelh their rail
O’er her pathway in lifedurk shadows fall.
Alone, —she weeps as she’s thinking.
There dwells in her heart a voiceless grief,
To which glories of earth bring no relief;
The hopes that blossomed in life’s young day ,
Tho hopes of years are fading away;
A feverish thrill is in her Veins;
Nought of rest on earth for her remains;
Yet only to One—tho All-seeing Lye—
Is known the wild depths of her agony,—
Her brain is most mad with thinking.
Lady, in thy spirits fitful fever
Look to thy God' He will fail Vice nerer;
la Him find peace in thinking.
Gillimene Sr. Ark
.Manchester, i\. 11., May 4, IS6O.
Scltc I c ti
the wee white rose.
All in our marriage garden
Grew, smiling up to God,
A bonnier flower than ever
Suckt the green warmth of the sod.
O beautiful unfathomnbly
Its little life unfurled;
Life’s crowning sweetness was our wen
While rose of all the world.
From out n gracious bosom,
Our bud of beauty grew;
It fed on smiles for sunshine,
And tears for daintier dow
Aye nestling warm and tenderly,
Our leaves of love were curled
So close nnd close abont oar wee
White rose of all the world.
Two flowers of glorious crimson
Grew with our rose of light;
Still kept the sweet heavcn-grufiud slip
Her whiteness saintly white.
I* the wind of life they danced with glee,
And reddened as it whirlod;
White, white and wondrous grew our wee
White roso of all the world.
With mystical faint fragrance.
Our house of life she filled—
Revealed each hour some fairy lower,
W'here wingi d hope* might build.
Wc saw—though none like us might ste—
Such precious promise pearled
Upon the petal of our wee
White rose of all the world.
But evermore the hilo
Of nngel-light increa»ed;
Like the mystery of moonlight.
That fold* *oine fairy feast.
Snow-white, snow-soft, snow-silently.
Our darling bud np curled,
And dropt i’ the grave—God’s lap—our wee
White rose of all the world.
Our rose was but in blossom;
Our life was but in spring;
When down the solemn midnight
We heard the spirits sing;
“ Another bud of infancy,
With holy dews impearled,”
And in iheir hands they bore our wee
White rose of all the world.
You scarce could think so email a thing
Could leave a loae en large;
Her little light each shadow fling,
From dawn to sunset’* marge.
In other springs our life may be
In bannered bloom unfurled!
But never, never match our wee
White rose of all the world.
Gerald Massey.
Among the ancient records of the
North Hadley (Mass.) Congregational
Church, is the following clause: “Pro
vided further, that if the owner of said
pew. shall let the pew, or any part
thereof, to any negro or mulatto, or, in
any way admit any negro, or mulatto
to the possession, or occupancy of the
same, then the said pew, or any snare
thereof so let, or occupied, shall in ev
ery soeh case, thereby immediately re
vert to, and become property of, the
said society.'*
Printing Establishment,
Second Story,
We have a large assortment af new and Type
Border, Cuts, Etc., which enables us to turn out some
of the best job work in the State, ami at low pi icea.
Billheads, Posters, Blasts,
*' ARD *. Bills, Circulars,
Isvitatioss, Labels, Etc.
Aad every oiber description of printing eveep
S*nokwork, dona neatly ami promptly at this office.
B.u» LKs of every description printer, to order.
The Law of Effort —As C view
the purpose of man’s creation, he was
made to be an end. But when, either
by the force of circumstances, or by
his own will, he is subservient to mater
ia! circumstances, he is made to be
merely an instrument in order to pro
cure bread, which is one of the means
of living; his work, his services, must
be of sutTicient value to others, in the
great exchange of the world, to receive
from them in return these means of liv
ing. Now, let us recognize the vast im
portance and benefit of their comdition
of things, which is the foundation of the
great ordinance of labor, and the beau
tiful law of reciprocity. It is a curious
and wonderful fact that the springs of
man’s noblest life arc implanted in nec
essity God has let no man go alone
in the world. He walks in leading
strings in tiic noblest actions of his life;
there is a mould cast for him. We may
charge this doctrine to divine decrees,
or what we please, there is a mould cast
for him, by which in the outset he is
started by which he is moulded to that
condition of things, which, if followed
out, will lead to his highest good.
For instance, it is not left to man’s
indolence to pick out that course of life
which will lead to his highest good.—
The great law of effort, the only true
condition by which any truo develop
in' nt either of the body or the soul is
attained has its spring in the first place
in material necessity. I reoeat, man is
not left to his own effort; he is not left
to pick out the wav of effbit; he is for
ced into effort; u woudrous and beauti
ful necessity «hicb arouse 3 the mightest
impulses, which unfolds the best facul
| ties of our nature, which makes up and
I dignifies Ihe whole man, making his
! sinewy right arm a lever which move*
I the world, and the sweat that
• glistens on his forehead more glorious
il.r.a a diatiem—-out of whose inexora
ble hands emerges beauty, out of which
come all the marshalled utilities (,[" Cl y«
ilzation, and the attendant train of art,
invention, and the starry crown of
science; a grand march and procession
of power, and pence, and order, trans
forming the wilderness into a garden,
and making the solitary place glad—•
steadily ns the sun shines and the earth
turns, sowing its seed, binding its
sheaves, and Ironi age to age and from
continen to continent, unrolling a splen
did panorama of achievement and of vic
tory.— llcr. E. H. Chapin.
“Who is this Pope that I heard so
much about ?” said King George 11. of
England; “I cannot discover what is his
merit. Why will not my subjects write
in prose ! 1 hear a great deal, too, of
Shakespeare, but I cannot read him he
is such a bombast fellow. ’’
Sir Joshua Reynolds once saw Pope.
It >vns about the year 1710, a! an auc
tion of hooks or pictures. He remem
bers that there was a lane formed to
let him pass freely through the assem
blage. and he proceeded, ulong bowing
to those who were on each side. Ho
was, according to Sir Joshua’s account,
about four feet six high: very hump
backed: and deformed; he wore a black
coat, and, according to tho fashion of
that time, bad on a little sword. Sir
Joshua adds that he had a large and
very fine eye, and a long, handsome
nose; his mouth had those peculiar
marks which always are found in the
mouths of crooked persons; and tho
muscles which ran across the cheek
were so strongly marked as to appear
like small cords. Roubilliac, the statu
ary, who made a bust of him from life,
observed that his countenance was that
of a person who had been much afflicted
with headache, and he should have
known the fact from the contracted ap
pearance of the skin between his eye
brows, though he had not been other
wise apprised of it.
The Price op Cotton Cloth For
ty-six Years Ago.— VVe have been
shown a bill of 34 yards of shirting
sold to John Osborne by Messrs.—
Almy, Brown and Slater, at North Provi
dence, in November, 1814. The price
is sixly three cents per yard. The same
quality of goods can now be bought for
six or eight cents. We are assured the
receipt is in the hand writing of Samuel
Slater, the father of American cotton
manufactures. It is in a plain, bold
hand.— Woonsocket Patriot.
The pressure on the valve of a large
locomotive amounts to some six or sev
en tone, and each valve in its sliding
motion back and forth is pushed, under
this great load, more than 4 miles for
every 100 miles travelled by the loco
Walpole’s old Duchess of Rutland
was accustomed to say to her niece,
when one of the apocryphal aneedote#
of which the Courts of the Georges
were so prolific came to her ears,
“That’s a lie mv dear: but make a not#
of it; it will do for news in the coti#*

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