We buried him upon the bank of the stream that wends its course through the valley. Darkness, with its sable pall, had enveloped the scene as we covered him from view, and left the winds and the wolves to howl his requiem, until the voice of spring shall bid the wild-flowers grow and bloom upon his grave.
This lovely valley had before this witnessed the death-scene of one who left his bones to bleach within its limits. His name was Scott, from whom the neighboring eminences derive their present appellation.
Attracted by the enchanting beauty of the place and the great abundance of game the vicinity afforded, he wandered hither alone and made it his temporary residence. While thus enjoying the varied sweets of solitude, he became the prey of sickness and gasped his life away; —and none were there to watch over him, but the sun by day and the stars by night! or fan his fevered brow, save the kindly breezes; or bemoan his hapless fate, other than the gurgling stream that sighed its passing sympathy beside the couch of death!
There is a mournful interest and a touching melancholy associated with this simple story, that must thrill with emotion the finer feelings of our nature. The incident, which had so recently transpired, contributed to enhance these gloomy sensations to an extent I never before experienced. I felt — I cannot tell how. I felt like giving vent to my feelings in verse. Yet, I cannot write poetry. I made the attempt, however, and here is the result before the reader:
THE WANDERER'S GRAVE.
Away from friends, away from home
And all the heart holds dear,
A weary wand'rer laid him down,
Nor kindly aid was near.
And sickness prey'd upon his frame
And told its tale of woe,
While sorrow mark'd his pallid cheeks
And sank his spirit low.
Nor waiting friends stood round his couch
A healing to impart, —
Nor human voice spoke sympathy,
To sooth his aching heart.
The stars of night his watchers were,
His fan the rude winds' breath,
And while they sigh'd their hollow moans,
He closed his eyes in death.
Upon the prairie's vast expanse
This weary wand'rer lay;
And far from friends, and far from home,
He breath'd his life away!
