came over her, and all was still and hushed to her. When she
came to her senses, she found herself lying on the margin of the
pool, and awaking as if from an unpleasant sleep with a sensation of
faintness at the heart. She thought at first that she must have been
taken from the water by somebody who belonged to her nation, and
looked round to see if any of them were near. But there was no human
trace or sound to be discovered: she heard only the whisper of the
wind, and the rush of the cascade, and beheld only the still trunks,
and waving boughs, the motionless rock, and the gliding water. She
spoke, thanking her deliverer, whoever he might be, in the softest
tones of her soft voice, but there was no reply. On her return to the
village where she lived, she made the most diligent enquiry to learn
if any of her people had assisted her in the hour of danger, or if any
thing was known of her adventure. Nobody had heard of it--none of the
tribe had passed by the cascade that day; and the maiden and all her
people became fully convinced that she had been preserved from a
violent death by her guardian spirit--the Manitou of the waterfall.
Her gratitude was in proportion to the benefit received; and ever
afterwards she paid an annual visit to the cascade at the season when
she was thus miraculously rescued, sometimes alone, and sometimes in
company with the young females of her age. On these occasions, the
dark rocks around were hung with garlands of flowers and belts of
wampum, and bracelets of beads were dropped into the clear water, and
a song was chanted, commemorating the maiden's deliverance by the
benevolent spirit of the place. The woods around reverberated with the
music of those dark-haired maidens who had assembled to warble their
hymns of gratitude to the Manitou of the cascade.

The Indians, who lived above the Mountains, and those who possessed
the country below, although belonging to the same great family of the
Lenni Lenape, were not always on friendly terms. At the time of which
I am telling my brother, there was a great quarrel between them, and
the calumet had been buried in the hole from which the hatchet had
been taken. An Indian of the tribe living above the mountains was
found encroaching on the hunting-grounds below, and was killed in a
fierce dispute which ensued. His people anxiously sought an
opportunity to revenge his death, nor was it long before it was put
into their hands. A young warrior of the