Thus passed the early youth of Orikama, in intercourse with sweet nature, under the kind protection of two of the best specimens of the Indian tribes, and almost debarred from any other society. Seldom did a moccasined hunter enter their wigwam, yet seldomer did a squaw pass through that lonely valley; and a white man, never. When she had attained the age of thirteen, a change occurred, which threw a shadow over her young life, and was greatly regretted by Towandahoc and Ponawtan. A detachment of their tribe having determined to migrate, fixed upon that beautiful and fertile vale for the place of their settlement, and soon an Indian village arose, where before had rested the holy, maiden calmness of a region almost untrod by man. Now, all was dirt, confusion, discord: the vices of civilized life were added to those of the savage, without the decency or refinement which seeks to throw a veil over their deformity. Orikama woke up as from a beautiful dream, to find that those whom she would love to think of as brethren, were vile and degraded: she saw lazy, drunken men, lounging about at the doors of smoky huts, or administering chastisement to yelping curs, or to women as noisy, reduced by ill-treatment and domestic drudgery to be the cunning, spiteful slaves they were. Every thing shocked the noble and pure spirit of Orikama: there were none here that she could make companions and friends, nor would Towandahoc and Ponawtan have been pleased to have her associate with them. It could not be expected that she should be a favorite with the young girls of the tribe, who were jealous of her superior attractions, and hated her for her reserve; and their conduct made her feel sensibly that she was of another race, and of another nature. Their malice was perhaps quickened by the fact, that some slight hostilities had again arisen between the red men and the pale faces, in which their tribe had been very prominent.
So unpleasantly changed did the whole family find their beautiful valley, that it was resolved to remove to some distant spot, where they should not be crowded out by uncongenial companionship. Accordingly, Towandahoc departed for an absence of some weeks, to choose a situation for settlement; the less reluctantly, as all the warriors of the tribe had already left upon an expedition, which he had reason to suspect was aimed against the whites. None remained behind but old men, squaws, and pappooses, not to forget the Indian dogs, ever ready by their snarl to recall their unwelcome existence to your mind. One day during her husband's absence, Ponawtan departed early in the morning, with a view to gather some herbs which grew upon one spot alone, a marsh at a considerable distance: she left Orikama to take charge of the wigwam till her return, which would not be before nightfall. Soon after she had left, the crack of the rifle was heard, and the Indian village was startled from its repose by the shout of the white man, and armed backwoodsmen rushed in, expecting to meet their enemies: but the warriors were absent, and the rough but generous foe disdained to wreak vengeance upon old men, women, and children. All were taken prisoners, and the cabins were fired: but how great was their amazement, upon coming to the larger, handsomer wigwam of Towandahoc, which they concluded from its appearance to belong to a sachem, to see there, shrinking back with terror, a fair young girl of their own blood! Few words could she speak in English, and but little could she understand of that tongue which for ten years she had not heard spoken, except by herself in prayer; she had even forgotten her own former name. Great was the excitement when the news flew through the band, that a lost or stolen child was recovered, and all rushed eagerly to see her. And she, what mingled feelings filled her heart! Childish memories of just such men crowded into her mind. She was lost in wonder and vague remembrance. Just then, full of ardor, there rushed forward a youth of twenty, who exclaimed the moment his eyes fell upon her, "It is she! I knew she was living! It is little Emily Buckingham!" As she gazed upon his open brow, round which the crisp black curls were clustered, and heard the long-forgotten name, she was troubled—she thought of the boy who held her hand as she leaned over the edge of the stream to watch the mimic boat, and with faltering tongue she repeated her name.
"The voice and all! Do you not see, comrades, how she resembles her mother, Ellen Buckingham? Oh, hasten homeward, to give joy to the hearts of her father and mother!"
"Father, mother, dead. Towandahoc, Ponawtan, Indian father, mother."
After some difficulty, Roland Markley, for it was really he, succeeded in explaining to her that her parents still lived: and against her tears and prayers, determined at once to break all bonds with her Indian home, they tore her away, without waiting for the return of Towandahoc and Ponawtan; but left their wigwam standing, out of gratitude for the care they had taken of the child. The Indians had made an incursion into the territory of the whites, and committed many ravages, and it was with the intention of breaking up their villages, and driving them away, that this expedition had been undertaken. The prisoners they had captured were ransomed on condition of their removal, and the whole tribe passed to the other side of the Alleghanies.
As the band travelled homeward, and first came across the beautiful Susquehanna, Orikama—or Emily, as we should again call her—started, and gazed eagerly around her: the broad stream called up memories of the past. And when they arrived at the cottage of Hopedale, and she beheld the house and grounds, the river and the woods, and the distant hills, she recognized her home, and her earliest recollections were vividly recalled. Soon was she folded in the arms of her mother, who so long had mourned for her; and by her father she was welcomed back as one from the grave. The news spread far and wide, and great was the gathering of friends and neighbors to wish joy to the parents, and to welcome back the pride of Hopedale: much to the confusion and distress of poor Emily. All noticed the strong likeness she bore her mother, in person, voice, and countenance; and if now she resembled her, how much more was this the case when she had exchanged her Indian garb for one more suitable to the American maiden! Soon were the bonds of love knit together most closely between the parents and their recovered treasure; her tongue relearned the lost language of her childhood, and happiness again brightened the hearth at Hopedale; the birds sang more sweetly to her mother's ears, and the sun shone more cheerfully than it had done for years. Amidst all her new joys, Emily very often thought of her beloved Indian parents, Towandahoc and Ponawtan, and longed to see them again; but Indian life, as developed in the village, was abhorrent to her very soul, and here she enjoyed all the freedom and communion with nature she had once so highly prized, with society, and advantages for mental cultivation she was now at an age to appreciate. All were delighted to teach the docile and intelligent girl, so ready to take up ideas, so judicious in the application of them; but Roland Markley, the playmate of her childhood, installed himself as head tutor, and soon every setting sun saw him on the way to the cottage, eager to apply himself to the task.
Ten other years have passed; and near the cottage of Hopedale stands another, within whose porch, overgrown by the Prairie rose, at her spinning wheel, sits a beautiful young matron; perfect contentment is enthroned upon her brow, and happiness beams out from her radiant smile; golden curls cluster gracefully around her well-shaped head, and dark, lustrous eyes follow lovingly a little girl at play, although her skilful fingers do not forget their task.
"What is the matter, my little Ellen?" she said, as the child ran to hide her face in her lap.
"An Indian, mamma! An Indian, coming out of the wood!"
At these words Emily springs up; she will ever love the red man for the sake of those who nourished her childhood, and never will a son of the forest be sent away uncheered from her door. But times have greatly changed since her father built the neighboring cottage: seldom now does the Indian visit that comparatively thickly settled spot; his course is still westward, and ever onward, with the setting sun. When Emily emerged from the thickly shaded porch, she saw indeed a red man approach from the forest; he was old, but his majestic figure was still erect, his eye bright and piercing; black eagle plumes adorned his stately head—it was Towandahoc!