powerful plant, styled in the nomenclature of the natives, "life to the dead."
A convulsive motion of the eye-lids, and at length a deep, tremulous sob confirmed the hopes of the aged warriour. Warmth, friction, and the exhibition of cordials recalled the wandering spirit to its earthly abode, just as the morning dawned. During the night, broken exclamations attested the return of life, and his hands grasped at something above his head, as if the flitting visions of a disordered intellect encompassed him.
"I know ye!" at length he uttered in a hollow voice, rolling his eyes upward, "I know ye. That head was cleft many a year since. Why have ye not healed the wound? Ye bid it gape to torment me. Those locks are bright. Why do ye shake them at me? They drop hot blood upon my soul. Oh! here are hundreds of accursed spirits, reeking from the eternal lake. Avaunt! I go not your way! Satan I know, but who are ye?"
During the agonies of resuscitation, his cries were frequent, "Go your way! I know ye!" with menacing gestures of the hands.
At length, Mr. Occom bending over him, said tenderly "do you know me, Maurice?"
After a short pause, a hoarse voice replied "yes, I know thee too, a blind leader of the blind. Thinkest thou to be within the pale of salvation? Thou! an alien from the holy mother church. Thou! who leadest thy silly flock among pit-falls, where is no shelter in the day
