Miscellany: The Lost Sister

The following exlrncts are Irom Kev. John Todd's nnrrative of 'The Lost Sister of Wyoming.' The 'Lost Sister'- the heroino of the narrativa- was the daughter of Mr. Jonathan Slocuni, a respectable farmer of Wyoming, who removed to tho valley from Rhode Island in 1777. Inthe following year, a party ot Delnwnre Indians carne suddenly iuto tho place, and among other children carried off Francés, the youngest child of Mr. Slocum, theu five years oíd. No trace of her could be fuund till sïxty years nfterwards, when it was providentially discovered that she was living witli a tribe of ïndians n Indiana. Her two brothers and sister, who were slill living, went in search of her, on being informad of the fact.- Theextracts we have made describe t hei r interview willi their sister, and gave her own account ofhcrself. The family have ropeated their visits two or three times sïnce the discovery; and upon the removal of the tribe to which she belonged beyond the Missouri, they succeeded in reserving for her a section of land, on which she still lives.- Boston Recorder. THE MEETING AFTER SIXTY YEARS. Sixly years añer the capture of little Francés Slocum. on a bright September morning, a party consisting of two brothers, a sister, and an interpreter, half Indian and half French by birth, were on their horses, wanderingalong on the nortb bank of the Wabash river, in Indiana,- to meet the lost sister. They had passed through the weary Miaoii Reserve, - had completed a long journey through the wilderness, and were now fordiug the river nenrthe village of Peru. lmpaticntly they passed along till they reached the Missisineway Village. Here is the remnant of the Miami tribe living in scattcred villages, among the long blue grap? which without cultivalion covers that luxuriant soil, and the rich cornficlds which ceed but little care and attention. After passing the fust village, our party called at the residence of Üodfrey, the second chief of the nation, for although very impatienf, they well knew that politeness would not permit them to pass him. He was a war-chief. His home consisted of some five or six two story houses, much after the manner of the whites, within a square enclosure, of nbout half an acre. A gate-way admitted them to the enclosed buildings, which were quite respectable in appearance. - Ou entering the house, the inlerpreter introdced them with much gravity to the chief and informed him of their errand. He received them with great cpurtesy and real politeness, proílering any assistance in his power. He was a noble looking man, apparently over fifty years of oge, majesüc and solemn in countenance, and very portly- weighing over 320 pounds! He was dressed in a blue calicó shirt, which carne down to the knee,which was profusely covered with ruifles. The Indian leggin covered the leg from the shirt downward. He was over six feet high, and when he aróse, with his hair gracefully tied in a queue down his back, he would have made no contemptibleel for a sculptor. Nature has done much for thisman; and if he should be faiihful to himself, to his natioa and to his Maker, be may yet 'be a great blessing to his peopla. He has wealth and influence, besides a shrewd head upon his own shoulders. Long may we wear it for the good of others. Our party then left the Ciiief and hastened on to wliat was called the Deaf Man's Village - so named from a chief who was now dead. As they drew near the village, they became silent. There was an expectation - ihe fulfillment of hopes which had been chcrished lor sixty years. Would she have any family likeness, by which they might know her? - Would she have any recollections by which she might be identified? Would she be glad to see them, and if proved to be their sister, would she return to the home of her birth - and die where she was bom? Would she be overeóme al seeing them? ♦I shall know her f she is my sister,' saidthe sister, by her having lost the right thumb nail: you, brother, remember how you pounded it o(I in the shop, about a year before wo lost her! 'I dowell remember t,' - and this was all they said, as they went forward on their journo.y. At lengih they reach a large log-house, or rather two houses, joined together by a kind of shed. They enter, and find an Indian woman, with two daughters, lite one about twenty-three years old, and the other about ten years older, and three or four pretty grand children. Before being introduced by the interpreter, they found themselves agitnted and giving way to tears. 'Oh God!' cried one of the brothers, 'is thal my sister! - in a moment he seized her hand and drew her to the light. It was there! - the mark, the thumb-nail was gone! On being told who they were, she received them with great reserve, coolncss, and indifference. While thoy were walking thö room in tc-ars. not a feature ol hor countenance moved. She shed nof c tear, she evinced no emotion. They;d lier óf her early home: shc could recjllcct nothing, exeept whal bhe liad told Jol. living. - Tliey asked what her name was w hen a child? Shc could nol recollect. 'Whnt do yoti rpmoniberl' 'My father, my mot lier, the long river, the stftir-casc umier tyhich 1 hid wlien fuey camel' 'IIosv carne yon to looso your thumb uiuir 'My brother hammered it o(F, a long, long timo ngo, wlion 1 vfaa n vory lilile girl at my fnther's house.' 'Do you know how many brothers and sisters you had?' She then menlioucd Uiem, and in the order of thcir :ges. 'Wotild you know your name f you should béar it ropeated?' '!t is a long time since, and perhíips I should nol.' Was it Francés?' At once a smile played ((ion her features, and tbr a moment there seemed to pass over the face what niight be called the shadow of nn cmotion, and shc answered, 'Ycí!' On pursuing the investigations, tliere remained no doubt on the minds of any of the party, that she was the lost sster - ihe Francés Slocum of sixiy years ago! But what a chango, from the fairhaired,pale faced Hite gij-1 to the old, jealous, ignorant, suspicious savage! The contrast was so great, that tlio brothers and sisters were almost overwhelmed. - To ndd to their cmbarrassment, she was cov, reserved, and seemed to fear that thev were contri ving some way to chcat lier out of her property. Her youngest daughter was a widow, and the eldest n wife of a half-breed French Indian. by the name of Brouriette- u man of polislied manner?, and elegant appearancc. It took a long timo to overeóme her suspicions, and convince the family that they were her relatives. At length she consentcd to accompany them back to their lodging?, nine miles distant, and spend the night. At once the Indiau sister caught her pony, and throwingablanket over him, she mounled ala Turk,nnd the whole family returned with them and spent the night. But instead of using a bed as we should, each one threw a blanket around her, and lying down on the floor or ground, was shortly in a sound sleep. Before they fully gave their confidence, it was necessary to give and to receive a formal pledge of friendship.- Ün being all assembled, the eldest daughter brought in a beautiful white ckth. carefully rolled up, and laid it on the stand, and then. through the mterpreter. arose and solemnly presented it as n pledge of their confidence and friendáhip. It contained thehind quarter of a deer which they had probablyjust hunted anc killed for this very purpose. The broth ers and sister then arose and assolemnh received it as a token of friendship anc kindness. But still they were not satis fied till the civilized sister had gone am formally taken possession of thecloth an its contents. They then seemed at ease and from that moment have their nev fi-iends their entire confidence. The brothers and sister did not sleej that night. Their emotions had been varied during the day, bul they had been deep. Their hopes had been realized. but their disappointment had been great. 'Was she so very ignoranti' - said I to the brother who gave me the narration. lSir, she did nol know when Sunday cameP What a consummation of ignoranee for one actually born in New EngIand! She was rich, and much icspecteJ and beloved, but she was a poor darkened savage! [Aiter considerable exertion, they prevailed on her 1o give ttieirí a narrative of her wanderings through so many years. The account is too long for publicaiion. She was adopted by au old Indian and Squaw as their child, and subsequently inarried. Her two sons were dead. Her two daughters were present at the time, and married.] 'Was you ever tired of living with the ïndjansl' 'No. I had always enough to live on, and live well. They always used me very kindly.' 'Did you ever know that you had white relations who were seeking you so many yearsT 'No. No one told mo, and l never heard t. l thought any thing about my white relalives unless it was a liltle while after I was taken.' 'But we live where our faiher and mother used to live on the banks of the beautiful Susquehannah, and we want you to return with us. We will give you ol our property, and you shaU be one of us, and share all that we have. You shall have a good house, and every thing yot desire. O do go back with us.' 'No, I cannot. I have always livec ■ with the Indians. They have always I used me very kindly. 1 am used to them. - The Great Spirit has always allowed me lo live with them. Your Wuhpu-mom ■ (looking-glass) may bc larger than mine, , but this is my home. I do not wish te - live any better, öt any wuere else, and J r think the Great Spirit has permitted me :i to livo so long, becaose I have always 1 livcd with the Indians. 1 should havedied sooncr if I had lefi ihem. My husband and my boys n re butied here. and 1 cannot leavc them. On bis dying Jny my husbaVjd charged me not to lonvo the Indians. 1 liave a house and largo land, two dnughters, a son-in-law, thrce grnn;!cliildren, and every lliing to nmko me comfortnble. Wliy sliould I go and bc like a fishout of wuleii' 'And I, said firourieltc, hor son-in-law, 'know all about iiu 1 was bom al Fort llarriso) about two miles from'Terre Haute. When I was ton years old I went to Detroit. I u-as married to this woraan about ihirteon years ?go. The neople about Iierc and at Logausporl ánd Miamisport have known me ever since the country has been settled by the whites. They know me to bc induvlnoup, to mannge wel!, and to maintain my luniily rcs[)cctabl v. My mother-in-law's sons are dead, and I sland ín their place to her. I mean to maintain her well as long ns she lives, fór the iruth of which you may dopend on the word of Gapt. Brouriette.' 'What Capt. Brourieüe &ays,' added the old lady, 'is truc. He has always [realed me kiudly, and I am satisfied witi J1m_-perlectly satisfied, and I hope my connexions will not feel auy uneasiness about me. The Indiansare my peoplc. I do no worlc. I sit in the house witli my two dauglitcrs, who do the work, and I sit with them.' 'But will you at least go and mako a visit to your early home, and which you have seen us, return again to your childrení' 'I cannot. I am an old tree. I am an old tree. I cannot move about. I was a sapling when they took me away. It is all gone past. I am afraid I should die and neveF come back. I am happy here. I shall die here and lie in that grave-yard, and they will raise Ihe pole at my grave with the white flag on it. and the Great Spirit will know where to lind me. I should not be happy with my white relatives, I am glad enough to see them, but I cannot go. I have done.' 'When the whites tako a squow,' said Brouriette, with much animation, as if delighted with the decisión of the old lady, 'they make her work like a slave. - It was never so with this woman. If 1 had been a drunkeu, worthless fellow, this woman could not have Iived to this age. But I have always treoted her well. j The villnge is called Deaf Man's Village after her husband. I have done.' The oldest daughter whose name is Kickhesequa or 'cul-fwger' assented to all that had been said, and added that 'the deer cannot live out of the forest.' The youngest daughter, O-sJtow-scqmih, or tYelloic-leavesS confirmed all, and thought that her mother could not go even i on a visit, 'because,' said she, 'the fish dies quickly out of the water.'