"the deadly poison of ingratitude" if he omitted any occasion to record her merit. More than once she had preserved his life, first by “hazarding the beating out of her brains to save his," and again by stealing through "the dark night and irksome woods" to warn him of an intended attack. Her services to Virginia had been as great as those to himself; she had been the instrument, under God, to preserve the colony from destruction, and he invoked the royal favor as due to her "great spirit, her desert, birth, want, and simplicity." The letter had the desired result, and attracted attention to Pocahontas; and Smith went to call on her near London. The interview was brief, but of a very curious nature. Smith approached her with deep respect, addressing her as Lady Rebecca; " but this seemed to offend her, and, covering her face with her hands, she remained for some time silent. When she spoke, it was to reproach him for his formality. "You did promise Powhatan," she said, "that what was yours should be his. You called him Father, being and fear you here I should call and you shall in his land a stranger call me child.” And she added, “They did tell me always you were dead, and I knew no other till I came to Plymouth." These latter words have suggested the curious question whether Pocahontas had been designedly deceived, either by Rolfe or his friends, on the subject of Smith's death. Had she conceived for the young soldier a warmer sentiment than simple regard, and had that fact explained her absence from Jamestown after his departure? Her age might seem to contradict the supposition; but the Indian girls married young, and when Smith left Virginia Pocahontas was fifteen. Of her real feelings we know nothing; but some one had certainly produced the conviction in her mind that Smith was dead. She fully believed it up to the time of her arrival in England; and she had married Rolfe under that belief. The romantic view will commend itself to youthful readers, and may be the truth. As to the sentiment of Smith, there is no reason to suppose that he ever indulged in any romance in relation to the Indian maid. His life at Jamestown was hard and passionate; his days were spent in fighting the factions and defending himself from mutineers, and such a life is not propitious to love dreams. "Re Pocahontas died suddenly at Gravesend, in March, 1617, just as she was on the point of sailing for Virginia. She made a religious and godly end," and was buried in the parish church, where her name was registered, after the careless fashion of the time, as becca Wrothe." The church was afterwards burned, and the exact spot of her grave is unmarked. Only a few additional details are known of this beautiful and romantic character. She bore three names - Pocahontas, Amonate, and Matoax, the last being her “real name." It was rarely uttered, as the Indians believed that a knowledge of the real names of persons gave their enemies power to cast spells upon them. Pocahontas, signifying, it is said, "Bright Stream between two Hills," was her household name, and she was Powhatan's" dearest daughter." Her brother, Nantaquaus, and her sisters, Matachanna and Cleopatre, are mentioned. As she was probably born in 1595, she was a brief and pathetic only twenty-two when she died career, which has appealed to the human heart in every generation. John Rolfe returned to Virginia, where he became a prominent official of the colony; and his son, Thomas Rolfe, was taken to London, where he was brought up by an uncle. When he was a young man he came to Virginia, and as "Lieutenant Rolfe" commanded Fort James, on the Chickahominy. Only one other trace is found of him. When he was about twenty-six (1641), we hear of his petition to the Governor for permission to visit his grand-uncle Opechancanough, and his aunt Cleopatre denizens still, it would seem, of the woods on York River. He married, before this time or afterwards, a young lady in England, became a gentleman of "note and fortune" in Virginia, and some of the most respectable families in the State are descended from him. One of his descendants was John Randolph, of Roanoke, who was proud of his Indian blood. His manner of walking and the peculiar brightness of his eyes are said to have betrayed his origin, and he once said that he came of a race who never forgot or forgave an injury. He was sixth in descent from Pocahontas through Jane Rolfe, her granddaughter; and it is curious that the blood of Powhatan should thus have mingled with that of his old enemies. Dead for many a day, and asleep in his sepulchre at Orapax, the savage old Emperor still spoke in the voice of his great descendant, the orator of Roanoke. Powhatan does not again appear upon the stage in Virginia. He had abdicated, some time before, in favor of his brother, Opitchapan, and lived the life of a retired sovereign, going from place to place at his pleasure, still venerated by his people, but taking no part in public affairs. It was Charles V. in private life, -an ex-emperor awaiting the end. The end soon came. Powhatan was now past seventy, and the death of Pocahontas had been a severe blow to him. He went about from Werowocomoco, to Machot, to Orapax, to Powhatan, lamenting her. It was some comfort that her child was living, and he expressed a deep interest in the boy, but was never to see him. He finally ceased his journeys, and retired to Orapax " in the desert." Here he spent his last days, and died in 1618, a year further remarkable for the death of Sir Walter Raleigh and Lord Delaware, just one year after the death of Pocahontas. He was no doubt buried in the immediate vicinity, for about a mile from Orapax was an arbor in the woods, where he kept his treasures "against the time of his death and burial;" and here, near the present Cold Harbor, his dust probably reposes. Powhatan was a man of ability, and rises to the height of an important historical personage. He was a warrior and statesman both, and may be described in general terms as a subtle diplomat and a relentless enemy. He butchered one of his tribes, the Pianketanks, who rebelled against him, reducing the women and children to slavery, and hanging the scalps of the warriors on a cord, between two trees, near his royal residence. On other occasions he burned his enemies alive, or beat them to death, and was thus not a model of the Christian virtues. He was simply a type of the Indian race in its strongest and harshest development; cunning and treacherous, but a man of large brain and a certain regal dignity; full of pride, persistent resolve, and a born ruler. He loved his children, and was profoundly respected by his people, who recognized his jus divinum. Throughout his land of Powhatan, with his eight thou sand subjects and thirty under-kings, he was absolute master, and controlled all things by unwritten custom and the force of his will. He opposed the English as long as possible; made every effort to overcome them and put them to death, or drive them from the country; and finding it impossible to do so, silently gave up the struggle. At last, old and weary of authority, and mourning his dead daughter, he surrendered the sceptre and the rule, and retired to Orapax to die. It is a picturesque figure of the old years of Virginia, and takes its place beside the figure of Smith, his persistent adversary. The one was the representative Indian of the American forest; the other, the representative Caucasian of the great age of Elizabeth. Between the two hardy forms thus standing on the threshold of Virginia history, we have a third and more gracious the Indian girl, whose kind heart and brave spirit belong to no clime or race. figure, XVIII. VIRGINIA UNDER A WATCH-DOG AND A HAWK. THESE personal details relating to Pocahontas and Powhatan have carried us forward in the narrative. Let us now go back to the days of the valiant and religious Sir Thomas Dale, High Marshal of Virginia, who, when Gates returned to England, became Governor of the colony. It is a very singular figure, that of the hardy knight, with his martial instincts and love of divinity harmo niously combined. He was a rude antagonist, but a |