as a patriotic American. It is mournful to remember his fate; but it is better to have so labored and accomplished, even if to meet so terrible a death, than to have expended a lifetime among the world's older civilization, toiling in monotonous ways of peace and profit, without having done any deed to rival the heroes of all time or left any remembrance of great endeavor.
Mr. Gray, who was with Whitman in 1836, tells how they surmounted every obstacle, and stood at last upon the western acclivity of the Blue Mountains. There they overlooked the great region of the Columbia, spread beneath and before them, and took in the grand coup d'oeil of hills and uplands, valleys and distant mountains, including the sierras of the Cascade Range, that were lifted in the west, crowned with panoplied snows of Hood, Adams, Saint Helen's, and Rainier—an unsurpassed and glorious view; but the pioneer missionary of 1836 could not dream that the settler of 1880 would find all modern conveniences and civilized usages at command, and possess the means, by telegraph, to communicate with the uttermost parts of the earth.
A LEGEND OF COAHUILA.
1.
Over the mountain the moonbeams peep
At the stilly lake below;
Into the shadows they softly creep,
And gleam where the ripples flow.
The winds are hushed, and the woods are still
And weird in the mellow glow;
"O Night/" I cry, and a whispered sigh
Steals back from the peaks of snow.
High on a bank, where rocky steeps
Fling shadows out to meet the spray,
A woman sat, with eyelids drooped
And heart-strings trembling timidly.
Anon her eye, with wistful glance,
Stole out along the lake's expanse;
Or, startled by the restless flow
Of cave -pent surges deep below,
She listening bent, and, waiting there,
The stars grew pale and seemed less fair.
The while she watched, along the shore —
Full sweet, a song she knew —
The music of a dipping oar
Broke faint, and nearer drew;
And leaning, timid, from the cliff,
The maiden watched a fragile skiff,
Which onward through the shadows sped.
"'Tis Pedro's oar," she softly said,
And downward through the leafy cover
Sprang eagerly to meet her lover.
No sooner leaping to the shore —
The youth had dropped his gleaming oar—
Than, stealthy, from the shaded bank
O'ergrown with vines and creepers rank,
A savage figure glided out;
And ere the youth could turn about
Another and another sprang,
