The Territories of Kansas and Nebraska, after the most exciting debate known in congressional annals, were organized in May, 1854. This unparalleled excitement arose from the repeal, in connection with the territorial organization, of the compact known as the Missouri Compromise.

Thus "westward the star of empire takes its way;" and new states and populous cities spring into life beneath its glowing light with the rapidity of magic.

The early history, biography, and scenery of the Valley of the Mississippi, will confer on our literature a variety of important benefits. They furuish new and stirring themes for the historian, the poet, the novelist, the dramatist, and the orator. They are equally rich in events and objects for the historical painter. As a great number of those who first threaded the lonely and silent labyrinths of our primitive woods, were men of intelligence, the story of their perils and exploits, has a dignity which does not belong to the early history of other nations. We should delight to follow their footsteps and stand upon the spot where, at night, they lighted up the fire of hickory bark to frighten off the wolf; where the rattlesnake infused his deadly poison into the foot of the rash intruders on his ancient domain; where, in the deep grass, they laid prostrate and breathless, while the enemy, in Indian file, passed unconsciously on his march. We should plant willows over the spots once fertilized with their blood; and the laurel tree where they met the unequal war of death, and remained conquerors of the little field.

From the hero, we should pass to the hero's wife, the companion of his toil, and too often the victim of the dangers into which he plunged. We shall find her great according to the occasion. Contented under deprivation, and patient through that sickness of the heart, which nature inflicts on her who wanders from the home of her fathers; watchful, that her little one should not stray from the cabin door, and be lost in the dark and savage woods; wild with alarm when the night closed in, and the wanderer did not return; or frantic with terror, when the scream of the Indian told the dreadful tale that he had been made a captive and could no more be folded to her bosom. We shall follow her to other scenes, when the merciless foe pursued the mover's boat, or assaulted the little cabin, where, in the dark and dismal night, the lone family must defend itself or perish. Here it was that she rose above her sex in active courage; and displayed, in defense of her offspring more than herself, such examples of self-possession and personal bravery, as clothe her in a new robe of moral grandeur.

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The exciting influences of that perilous age were not limited to man and woman; the child also felt their power, and became a young hero the girl fearlessly crushed the head of the serpent that crossed her path, when hieing alone to the distant neighbor; and the boy, while yet too young to carry the rifle, placed the little tomahawk in his buckskin belt, and followed in the wake of the hunter; or sallied forth a young volunteer, when his father and brothers pursued the retreating savage. Even the dog, man's faithful sentinel in the wilderness, had his senses made

keener, and his instinct exalted into reason, by the dangers that surrounded his playmates of the family.

We could introduce incidents to illustrate all that is here recounted; many might be collected from the narratives which have been published; but a much greater number lie buried in the memories of the aged pio. neers and their immediate descendants, and will be lost unless they be speedily made a part of our history. As specimens of what remain unpublished, we cite the following:

A family, consisting of the husband, the wife, two children, one two years old, the other at the breast, occupied a solitary cabin in the neighborhood of a block-house, where several other families resided, in the year 1789, near the little Miami river, in Ohio. Not long after the cabin was built the husband unfortunately died; and such was the grief and gloom of his widow, that she preferred to live alone, rather than mingle with the inhabitants of the crowded block-house, where the noise and bustle would be abhorrent to her feelings. In this solitary situation she passed several months. At night it was a common thing to see and hear the Indians around her habitation; and to secure her babes from the tomahawk, she resorted to the following precaution: Raising a puncheon of the floor, she dug a hole in the ground and prepared a bed, in which, after they had gone to sleep, she placed them side by side, and then restored the puncheon. When they awoke and required nourishment, she raised it, and hushing them to sleep, returned them to their hiding place. In this way, to use her own words, she passed night after night, and week after week, with the Indians and her babes, the sole objects of her thoughts and vigils.

Would you have an example of fortitude and maternal love, you could turn to no nation for one more touching or original.

The following incident displays the female character under an aspect a little different, and shows that in emergencies it may sometimes rise above that of the other sex:

About the year 1790, several families, emigrating together into the interior of Kentucky, encamped at the distance of a mile from a new settlement of five cabins. Before they had laid down, and were still sitting round the blazing brush, a party of Indians approached behind the trees and fired upon them. One man was killed on the spot, and another fled to the village, leaving behind him a young wife and an infant child! As no danger had been apprehended, the men had not their ammunition at hand, and were so confused by the fire of the savages that it was left for one of the mothers of the party to ascend into the wagon, where it was deposited, break open the box with an axe, hand it out, and direct the men to return the fire of the enemy. This was done, and they dispersed.

The next incident we shall narrate, was communicated by one of the most distinguished citizens of the state just mentioned. We give it to you in his own words:

"In the latter part of April, 1784, my father with his family, and five other families, set out from Louisville, in two flat-bottomed boats, for the Long Falls of Green River The intention was to descend the Ohio

river to the mouth of Green river, and ascend that river to the place of destination. At that time there were no settlements in Kentucky, within one hundred miles of the Long Falls of Green River (afterwards called Vienna.) The families were in one boat and their cattle in the other. When we had descended the river about one hundred miles, and were near the middle of it, gliding along very securely, as we thought, about ten o'clock of the night we heard a prodigious yelling, by Indians, some two or three miles below us on the northern shore. We had floated but a little distance farther down the river, when we saw a number of fires on that shore. The yelling still continued, and we concluded that they had captured a boat, which had passed us about mid-day, and were massacreing their captives. Our two boats were lashed together, and the best practicable arrangements made for defending them. The men were distributed by my father to the best advantage, in case of an attack; they were seven in number, including myself. The boats were neared to the Kentucky shore, with as little noise as possible. We were afraid to approach too near the Kentucky shore, lest there might be Indians on that shore also. We had not yet reached their uppermost fire, (their fires were extended along the bank at intervals for half a mile or more,) and we entertained a faint hope that we might slip by unperceived. But they discovered us when we had got about mid-way of their fires, and commanded us to come to. We were silent, for my father had given strict orders that no one should utter any sound but that of his rifle; and not that until the Indians should come within powder-burning distance. They united in a most terrific yell, and rushed to their canoes, and pursued us. We floated on in silence. not an oar was pulled. They approached us within less than a hundred yards, with a seeming determination to board us. Just at this moment my mother rose from her seat, collected the axes, and placed one by the side of each man, where he stood with his gun, touching him on the knee with the handle of the axe, as she leaned it up against the side of the boat, to let him know it was there, and retired to her seat, retaining a hatchet for herself. The Indians continued hovering on our rear, and yelling for nearly three miles, when, awed by the inferences which they drew from our silence, they relinquished farther pursuit. None but those who have had a practical acquaintance with Indian warfare, can form a just idea of the terror which their hideous yelling is calculated to inspire. I was then about ten years old, and shall never forget the sensation of that night; nor can I ever cease to admire the fortitude and composure displayed by my mother on that occasion. We were saved, I have no doubt, by the judicious system of conduct and defense, which my father had prescribed to our little band. We were seven men and three boys-but nine guns in all. They were more than a hundred. My mother, in speaking of it afterwards, in her calm way said, we had made a providential escape, for which we ought to feel grateful."

Although but few years have elapsed since that night of deep and dismal emotion, the war-fires which blazed beneath the white limbs of the sycamore and gleamed upon the waters, have long since been superseded by the lights of the quiet and comfortable farm-house; the gliding bark

canoe has been banished by the impetuous steamer; and the very sho on which the enemy raised their frightful death yell, has been washed away by the agitated waters! Nowhere in the anuals of other nations, can we find such matchless contrasts between two periods but half a century apart.

In the year 1786, three brothers set out from a wooden fort, in which some families were intrenched, to hunt on Green river, in the state of Kentucky. They ascended the river in a canoe for several miles, when, finding no game, they determined on returning home. The oldest brother left the canoe, that he might hunt on his way back. As the other two slowly floated down the stream, and were at a point called the little falls, they discovered an Indian skulking towards them through the woods. He was on the same side of the river with their brother. After deliberating a moment, they decided on flight; and applying their pad dles with great industry soon reached the fort, but did not relate what they had seen. In about an hour the brother arrived, and while ignorant of their discovery made the following statement:

"That has happened to me to-day, which never happened to me before. I had not met with any game, and became tired of walking, and turned in towards the river, intending to meet my brothers at the little falls, and take a seat in the canoe; but when I got near to that point, my dog sat down and howled in a low and piteous tone. I coaxed him, patted and flattered him to follow me, but he would not, and when I would approach him, he would jump up joyously and run off from towards the river, and look at me and wag his tail and seemed eager to go on. After endeavoring, in vain, to get him to follow me, I concluded to fol low him, and did so. He ran briskly before me, often looking back, as if to be sure that I was coming, and to hasten my steps."

The brother was then told, that at the very point where the faithful dog had arrested his march towards the canoe, those who were in it had discovered an Indian. All who heard the story, believed that he had been perceived by the animal, and recognized as the enemy of his

master.

The dog of the hunter was his companion and friend. They were much together, and mutually dependant upon and serviceable to each other. A hunter would much rather have lost his horse than his dog. The latter was the more useful animal to his master and greatly more beloved by him.

Nearly two years afterwards another incident occurred at the same fort, which displays the dangers which beset the emigrants of that period, and illustrates the magnanimity of the female character.

About twenty young persons, male and female, of the fort, had united in a fiax-pulling, in one of the most distant fields. In the course of the forenoon two of their mothers made them a visit, and the younger took along her child, about eighteen months old. When the whole party were near the woods, one of the young women, who had climbed over the fence, was fired upon by several Indians concealed in the bushes, who at the same time raised the usual war-whoop. She was wounded, but retreated, as did the whole party; some running with her down the lane,

and others across the field. They were hotly pursued by the enemy, who continued to yell and fire upon them. The older of the two mothers who had gone out, recollecting in her flight that the younger, a small and feeble woman, was burdened with her child, turned back in the face of the enemy, they firing and yelling hideously, took the child from its almost exhausted mother, and ran with it to the fort, a distance of three hundred yards. During the chase she was twice shot at with rifles, when the enemy was so near that the powder burnt her, and one arrow passed through her sleeve, but she escaped uninjured. The young woman, who was wounded, almost reached the place of safety when she sunk, and her pursuer, who had the hardihood to attempt to scalp her, was killed by a bullet from the fort. *

"When devoid of hope, that oasis amid the arid of desert life, man is a being, when placed in dangers, who is to be dreaded. When hope has fled, despair usurps its place, and none despair till they behold death, as it were, staring them in the face; and when life, with all its beautiful shades and colors is bleached, with the bitterness of approaching death, 'tis then man becomes desperate; the most timid have then done deeds of daring which were almost incredible. I may say that hope had almost forsaken me, when I beheld six blood-thirsty Indians, with loaded guns, and triggers cocked, waiting for a sight to shoot us dead. From my companion's appearance, I should judge his feelings were analogous to my own. I looked at him but once when behind a log, but the expression of his face was so indelibly impressed upon my mind, that as long as memory lasts, those stern and determined features can never pass from it. His face was pale, but not occasioned by fear, for Girty never felt that sensation. His lips were firmly compressed, till the blood was forced from them, and they were of an ashy paleness. The large veins of his dark face were swollen till ready to burst, and I almost imagined I could see the fire sparkling from his dark eyes, as he cast them on me; and, whispering through his clenched fist, bade me 'die like a man, and not like a captive wolf.'

"We had now become desperate, and as the hope of life had fled, we determined to die like warriors We now resolved as a last chance to employ a deception, which has since saved many lives. Girty took his cap, which was made of raccoon-skin, and slowly raised it above the log; the deception was not observed, for six shots were immediately fired at it, and two balls passed through it. I fired, and an Indian fell; but Girty reserved his fire, lest the enemy should rush up with their tomahawks. This kept them back, for none appeared willing to sacrifice his life for the benefit of the rest. We now arose, and took our stand between two trees, where, as a faint glimmer of hope beamed on us, we determined to conquer or die. A silence ensued, only to be broken by the death knell of one human being. One of the Indians, bolder than the rest, left his hiding place, and took a circuitous route, in order to attack us in the rear, but Girty's unerring aim prevented the Indian from running but a few steps, when he fell dead.

* Dr. Drake.