...dst the vengeful fires of hell, Some flowers of old affection blossom. John Boniton's eyebrows together are drawn With a fierce expression of wrath and scorn,— He hoarsely whispers, “ Ruth , beware! Is this the time to be playing the fool,— Crying over a paltry lock of hair, Like a love-sick girl at school?— Curse on it!--an Indian can see and hear: Away,—and prep...