THE VENGEANCE OF ITNCAS. 



" For thou wert monarch born : Tradition's pages 



Tell not the planting of thy parent tree, 

 But that the forest tribes have bent for ages 



To thee, and to thy sires, the subject knee." — Haixeck. 



Among the many beautiful pictures which adorn the chambers 

 of my remembrance, there are few equalling in loveliness, that 

 of the environs of Norwich, in Connecticut. Three beautiful 

 rivers, the Shetucket, the Quinebaug and the Yantic, (the 

 inhabitants of that part of our country have had the good taste 

 to retain many Indian names,) unite to form the Thames, 

 which sweeps with a short and rapid course into the ocean ; 

 and at the junction of two of these rivers stands the city of 

 Norwich. The approach to this place is exceedingly lovely. 

 A bend in the river shuts off all view of its continuous course 

 towards the sea, and the voyager finds himself, as he nears the 

 city, on what seems to be the bosom of a large and tranquil 

 lake. Cliffs clothed with the verdure of the hardier evergreens, 

 tower above the level of the river, while every variety of forest 



