Two Indian Boys were carried to London not long ago for
exhibition, and both died soon after their arrival. It is related
that one of them, daring his last moments, talked incessantly of
the scenes and sports of his distant home, and that both wished
earnestly to be taken back to their native woods.
Far in the dark old forest glades,
Where kalmias bloom around,
They had their place of youthful sport,
Their childhood's hunting-ground,—
And swinging lightly in the vines
That o'er the wigwam hung,
The golden robins, building near,
Above their dwelling sung.