And ye my sisters there have found
A home among my choicest friends;
And modelled with etherial grace,
The form of Hope with heavenward eyes,
Stands calmly on your burial-place,
And points her finger to the skies.
I. G. Holland.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THE PRAIRIE HERMIT.
EDITED BY PETER VON GEIST.
It happened on the twenty-seventh day of July, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and forty-two, that I, Peter Von Geist, found myself, in the natural course of events, journeying on horse-back along the northern bank of the Ohio river, in the state of Illinois. The space between me and the house where I designed to stop, and the time between then and sun-down, were somewhat disproportionate; so I pricked gallantly forward; as gallantly at least as could be expected from a tired horse, and a knight whose recreant thoughts were intensely fixed on dollars and cents, supper, and other trifling affairs. By dint however of much patience in the steed, and much impatience in the rider, we got over the ground, and approached a house that had been in sight for some distance.