Beadle's Dime Novels No. 142: The Sagamore of Saco — page 97: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

. known as - Arrow after arrow drank her blood while thus she sung—and at length she toppled headlong into the boiling flood below. Fierce was the pursuit and desperate the flight of the surviy- ing An ins, and the Sagamore of Saco, with his follow- ers, never rested, day nor night, till the last vestige of the Ter- rentines was rooted up. To this day, in the village of Lewiston, now a thriving and wealthy manufacturing city, the new settler, digging the foundation for his mansion, often unearths half-consumed brands, and, sad to tell, the small skull of the child, thus designating the site of the old Indian village, and at- testing to the truth of that tradition, which still preserves the memory of the destruction of the Andrc ggzins as we have de- scribed, and the conflagration of the village above the falls of 0 > white man has yentured to solve the mystery of the grit under the sheet of water, where rest the Bhecor Hope ines. A story is still extant to this. effect: Many years ago, while Lewiston was a small village, retaing its Indian name of Pejip- scot, a young man was standing on the shelf of rock, which we have described, and where we have often stood ourselves, spell- bound by the majestic scenery, when suddenly, from amidst the foam and spray, appeared an old man, and stood upon the rocks beside him. His hair was of a snowy whiteness, but his eye flashed with the fires of youth as he beheld the white stranger upon the rock. Before the latter could recover from his amazement, to inquire of his advent, the old Indian seized him in his arms and dashed him to the earth; when he recovered to look about him, he saw his aggressor rapidly paddling his canoe down the river. For years Join Bonyton lingered about the falls, in the vain desire of seeing once more the pale, spectral beauty of Hope Vines, but she appeared no more in the flesh. Tradition delights to recall her story, and to this day, men not romantic nor visionary declare to have seen a figure, slight and beautiful, clad in snowy robes, with moccasined feet, and hair covering her form like a vail, moving sorrowfully about the falls, and the strange figure they believe to be the wraith of Ho hiss does tradition preserve the memory of the beloved of Sagamore of Saco. John Bonyton at length rejoined the Sacos at what is now Selmon Falls. (We ough to say that this word is Pronounced as if written Sazcco.) “< lived :e ayer = age, an obj ‘on tothe people who had c of love and veneration to peo} P aoe ad deovrd r their chief, or sagamore, and rev by pve people of the colony. - . At his death be refused to be buried in the grave-yard” of the decorons Pilgrims of the day, but gave directions for his ; ComiUlcbooksscom