Bewildered hope told of retreat
In frontier palisado.

But ere a mile of tangled maze

Their bleeding hands had broken,
Their home-roof set the dark ablaze,
Fulfilling doom forespoken.

The savage death-whoop rent the air!
A howl of rage infernal!
The fugitives were in Thy care,
Almighty Power eternal!

Unscathed by tomahawk or knife,
In bosky dingle nested,
The hunted pioneer, with wife
And babes, hid unmolested.

The lad, when age his locks of gold
Had changed to silver glory,
Told grandchildren, as I have told,
This western wildwood story.

Told how the fertile seeds had grown
To famous trees, and thriven;
And oft the Sacred Book was shown,
By that weird Pilgrim given.

Remember Johnny Appleseed,
All ye who love the apple;

He served his kind by Word and Deed,
In God's grand greenwood chapel.

WILLIAM HENRY VENABLE.

On August 20, 1794, General Anthony Wayne defeated the Indians on the Maumee and compelled them to sue for peace. At Greenville, in the following year, they ceded 25,000 square miles to the Americans, and settlers flocked into the fertile country thrown open to them.

THE FOUNDERS OF OHIO

THE footsteps of a hundred years
Have echoed, since o'er Braddock's Road
Bold Putnam and the Pioneers

Led History the way they strode.

On wild Monongahela stream

They launched the Mayflower of the West, A perfect State their civic dream,

A new New World their pilgrim quest.

When April robed the Buckeye trees

Muskingum's bosky shore they trod; They pitched their tents, and to the breeze Flung freedom's star-flag, thanking God.

As glides the Oyo's solemn flood, So fleeted their eventful years; Resurgent in their children's blood, They still live on the Pioneers.

335

Their fame shrinks not to names and dates On votive stone, the prey of time; — Behold where monumental States Immortalize their lives sublime!

WILLIAM HENRY VENABLE.

Ohio was admitted to the Union in 1803. The serenity of the new state was rudely shaken, in 1806, by the remarkable bugbear known as the "Burr Conspiracy." Burr had incurred the enmity of Jefferson and most of the other leading politicians of the time, and they were led to believe that he was preparing an expedition against the southwest, to set up a separate empire there. Burr had interested in his plan which was really directed against Mexico one Harmon Blennerhassett, who owned the island of that name in the Ohio, and who undertook to finance the expedition.

BLENNERHASSETT'S ISLAND

From "The New Pastoral "

ONCE came an exile, longing to be free,
Born in the greenest island of the sea;
He sought out this, the fairest blooming isle
That ever gemmed a river; and its smile,
Of summer green and freedom, on his heart
Fell, like the light of Paradise. Apart
It lay, remote and wild; and in his breast
He fancied this an island of the blest;
And here he deemed the world might never

mar

The tranquil air with its molesting jar.
Long had his soul, among the strife of men,
Gone out and fought, and fighting, failed;
and then

Withdrew into itself: as when some fount
Finds space within, and will no longer mount,
Content to hear its own secluded waves
Make lonely music in the new-found caves.
And here he brought his household; here his
wife,

As happy as her children, round his life
Sang as she were an echo, or a part
Of the deep pleasure springing in his heart
A silken string which with the heavier cord
Made music, such as well-strung harps

afford.

She was the embodied spirit of the man, His second self, but on a fairer plan.

And here they came, and here they built their home,

And set the rose and taught the vines to

roam,

Until the place became an isle of bowers, Where odors, mist-like, swam above the flowers.

It was a place where one might lie and dream, And see the naiads, from the river-stream, Stealing among the umbrous, drooping limbs; Where Zephyr, 'mid the willows, tuned her hymns

Round rippling shores. Here would the first birds throng,

In early spring-time, and their latest song Was given in autumn; when all else had fled, They half forgot to go; such beauty here was spread.

It was, in sooth, a fair enchanted isle, Round which the unbroken forest, many a mile,

Reached the horizon like a boundless sea;
A sea whose waves, at last, were forced to flee
On either hand, before the westward host,
To meet no more upon its ancient coast.
But all things fair, save truth, are frail and
doomed;

And brightest beauty is the first consumed
By envious Time; as if he crowned the brow
With loveliest flowers, before he gave the
blow

Where License, round his throned feet, should whirl

Her dizzy mazes like an Orient girl.
His followers should be lords; their ladies each
Wear wreaths of gems beyond the old world's
reach;

And emperors, gazing to that land of bloom,
With impotent fire of envy should consume.
Such was the gorgeous vision which he drew.
The listeners aw; and, dazzled by the view,
As one in some enchanter's misty room,
His senses poisoned by the strange perfume,
Beholds with fierce desire the picture fair,
And grasps at nothing in the painted air,
Gave acquiescence, in a fatal hour,
And wealth, and hope, and peace were in the
tempter's power.

The isle became a rendezvous; and then
Came in the noisy rule of lawless men.
Domestic calm, affrighted, fled afar,

And Riot revelled 'neath the midnight star; Continuous music rustled through the trees, Where banners danced responsive on the breeze;

Or in festoons, above the astonished bowers, With flaming colors shamed the modest flowers.

There clanged the mimic combat of the sword, Like daily glasses round the festive board; Here lounged the chiefs, there marched the

plumèd file,

And martial splendor over-ran the isle.
Already, the shrewd leader of the sport
The shadowy sceptre grasped, and swayed his

court.

In dreams, or waking, revelling or alone,
Before him swam the visionary throne;
Until a voice, as if the insulted woods
Had risen to claim their ancient solitudes,
Broke on his spirit, like a trumpet rude,
Shattering his dream to nothing where he
stood!

The revellers vanished, and the banners fell
Like the red leaves beneath November's spell.
Full of great hopes, sustained by mighty will,
Urged by ambition, confident of skill,
As fearless to perform as to devise,
A-flush, but now he saw the glittering prize
Flame like a cloud in day's descending track;
But, lo, the sun went down and left it black!
Alone, despised, defiance in his eye,

He heard the shout, and "treason!" was the cry;

And that harsh word, with its unpitying blight, Swept o'er the island like an arctic night.

Out of the barn, still in alarm,
Came fifty men or more, sirs,
And seized each boat and other float
And tied them to the shore, sirs.

This plunder rare, they sport and share,
And each a portion grapples.

"T was half a kneel of Indian meal,
And ten of Putnam's apples.

The boats they drop to Allen's shop,
Commanded by O'Flannon,
Where, lashed ashore, without an oar,
They lay beneath the cannon.

This band so bold, the night being cold,
And blacksmith's shop being handy,
Around the forge they drink and gorge
On whiskey and peach-brandy.

Two honest tars, who had some scars,
Beheld their trepidation;

Cries Tom, "Come, Jack, let's fire a crack; "T will fright them like damnation.

"Tyler, they say, lies at Belpré,

Snug in old Blanny's quarters;
Yet this pale host tremble like ghosts
For fear he'll walk on waters.'

No more was said, but off they sped
To fix what they'd begun on;

At one o'clock, firm as a rock,

They fired the spun-yarn cannon.

Trembling and wan stood every man;

Then bounced and shouted murder, While Sergeant Morse squealed like a horse To get the folks to order.

Ten men went out and looked about
A hardy set of fellows;

Some hid in holes behind the coals,
And some behind the bellows.

The Cor'ner swore the western shore
He saw with muskets bristle;

Some stamp'd the ground; -'t was cannon sound,

They heard the grape-shot whistle.

The Deputy mounted "Old Bay,"

When first he heard the rattle,

Then changed his course-"Great men are

scarce,

I'd better keep from battle."