Volume VII. 



RECREATION. 



JULY, \ 897. 



G. 0. SHIELDS (COQUINA), Editor and Manager. 



Number >, 



POCAHONTAS IN ENGLAND. 



j. c. 



The chimes in the church tower, 

 which were ringing the prelude to 

 twelve, scattered their soft notes into 

 the moonlit heavens. She was cold, 

 very cold, and numb from lying long 

 in her narrow cell. She threw off the 

 damp winding-cloth and stood out 

 from beneath the willow trees, in the 

 light of the moon. It warmed her 

 pale limbs. 



Two people were sitting by the river 

 side, in the cool of the midsummer 

 night. Their canoe, not far off, was 

 held by its bow in the shore. 



' They say Pocahontas was buried 

 over there in the churchyard," said 

 one, thoughtfully. " Poor lady, she 

 must have been tired enough of cities 

 and captains and kings before she 

 died." 



' Times have changed since then," 

 said the other, softly. " Pocahontas 

 would lie more at rest by the old Brit- 

 ish Thames if she knew that every day 

 it swarms with canoes frorn her Amer- 

 ican wilds, and that people here have 

 grown to love out-of-doors as their 

 forefathers did, and to live nearer to 

 Nature." 



As she heard this she stepped forth 

 to the bank; stiffly at first, though 

 warmed by the moon. Her feathers 

 rose and fell along her back as she 

 trod, and the white wampum on 

 her leggins moved noiselessly. She 

 stepped into the canoe and sank on her 

 knees in the bottom. With one Ions:, 



silent stroke she glided into mid- 

 stream. She did not look back at her 

 gravestone, white in the moonlight, 

 nor at the two people on the shore; 

 but swept on and on, stroke after 

 stroke. The cities of men she forgot, 

 and the kings and the warriors, for her 

 knees were on the floor of the craft 

 she loved, and in her hands was the 

 paddle, as of old, in the Indian wilds 

 beyond the ocean. 



The slow bell was tolling — seven — 

 eight — . 



" Look! " said one of the people on 

 the bank, shuddering, and caught the 

 Other by the arm. 



" I see nothing." 



" We will go to the inn," the first 

 went on; " I am trembling." 



" Wait," said the other. " The canoe 

 is 'gone. It must have drifted awav. 

 I will find it." 



" I can not wait. — I saw it float 

 away. — Come. I am cold." 



The bell tolled — nine — ten — . The 

 bow of the canoe struck the opposite 

 shore. The Indian girl stepped lightly 

 forth and drew it up on the grass. She 

 was warmer now — quite filled with the 

 ghostly rays from the moon. 



The clock struck eleven, twelve, 

 and then the vast silence of midnight 

 fell upon the sky. Her hour had just 

 begun. 



" Come," said the watcher; " come 

 quickly. I am trembling. The night 

 air has chilled me." 



