Pocahontas.

"The white man landed!

Need the rest be told?

The New World stretch'd its dusk hand to the Old :
Each was to each a marvel, and the tie
Of wonder warm'd to better sympathy."

BYRON.

Pocahontas.

BORN 1594. DIED 1617.

At the very Antipodes of scene, yet not of fortune, of education, yet not of birth, when viewed in relation to the character last described, comes now before the reader the striking and pathetic narrative of Pocahontas.

Deep in the Virginian forests, where the pine, the cypress, and the cedar excluded alike the sun's material rays, and the scarcely less vital warmth of civilization, was cradled one of Nature's truest hearts, whose instincts of humanity, as direct channels, were to induce and interchange influences, blessing, like the mercy to which they belonged, both giver and recipient, and that not individually, but nationally.

Powhatan, called by his tribe, Emperor of Attanoughkamouck, ruled over that tract of country

originally bestowed by Queen Elizabeth upon Sir Walter Raleigh, and named by him "Virginia," in compliment to the royal giver. The celebrated Indian chief was, about the year 1606, at the height of his power; and it was at this time the intrepid English officer, Captain John Smith, was taken prisoner, and brought before him to be summarily punished for his efforts to found a British colony in this varied and beautiful province. Whilst exploring the James river, Captain Smith was surprised by a party of Indian warriors; his intentions were well understood, and the natural fury of his captors excited to the utmost against him. No time was lost; a council, immediately called, decided upon the death of the prisoner ; he was to be bound, his head placed upon a stone, and beaten to death: a horrible sentence they proceeded at once to execute. Yet, in the extremity of his danger, assistance was close at hand. Powhatan's favourite child, the Princess Matoaka, or Pocahontas, a girl of little more than twelve years old, had been present at the council, and heard, with indignation and grief, its result. At the moment when the club of her father was uplifted to strike, she flung herself upon the prostrate form of the victim, thus shielding him at the peril of her own life. One of those sudden revolutions of feelings ensued, to which un taught, as well as educated minds, are subject. The act of courage and pity saved the life of the Englishman. In a few moments he stood unfettered, though he was told he must remain