X A WORD TO THE READER.

strange land! And often, when the sun is sinking in
the western sky, I think of my former home; my heart
yearns for the loved of other days, and tears flow like
the summer rain. How the heart of the wanderer and
pilgrim, after long years of absence, beats, and his eyes
fill, as he catches a glance at the hills of his nativity,
and reflects upon the time when he pressed the lips of
a mother, or sister, now cold in death. Should I live,
this painful pleasure will yet be mine. “ Blessed be the
Lord, who /Lat/L helped me /zit/ze7't0.”
’ KAH-GE-GA-GAH-BOWH,
ALIAS

GEORGE COPWAY.
JULY 1847.