The shady bank, the murm'ring stream,
The woody wilds, his heart possess'd;
The dewy lawn, his morning dream,
In fancy's gayest colours dress'd.

And why, he cry'd did I forsake
My native woods, for gloomy walls;
The silver stream, the limpid lake;
For these dull books and college halls?

A little could my wants supply:
Can wealth or honour give me more?
Or will my father's God deny
The humble treat he gave before?

Where Nature's ancient forests grow,
The flowering laurel never fades;
There is my heart; and I must go,
And die amidst my native shades.

He spoke, and to the western springs,
Stripp'd of his gown, his way he bent;
His blanket tied with yellow strings,
This native of the forest went.

Returning to his native plain,
The Indians welcom'd him with joy;
The Council took him home again,
And bless'd their tawny-colour'd boy.

From the Indian village of Brother Town

, I
came to another settlement of theirs, called the
Orchard. Many of their habitations are formed
principally of the bark of trees, attached to posts,
which are fixed in the ground; the roofs being