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Show Quaint Indian Custom Legend and Superstition Handed Down from Generation to Generation, an arrow from an unseen bow pierced her heart. Falling, she grasped a ' twig which broke in her hand. With the strength that sometimes comes to the dying, she pulled the arrow from the wound and the twig fell across it. Thus she was found. They buried her where she fell, and the twig that was across the wound was placed over the mound, and one by one the young men and maidens of the tribe broke a twig and threw it on the heap. The custom was kept up by several generations of Indians until it became be-came a superstition that to omit the simple ceremony in passing meant a failure in whatever might next be attempted, while faithful attention augured success. The legend and the superstition were handed down to the white settlers set-tlers and the custom has been kept up by them and their descendants to this day, and thereby "Indian Heap" has been perpetuated. That it is not likely like-ly to go down is attested by the fact tli at in the record of Worcester county it is named as one of the boundaries boun-daries of a tract of land in Indian-town. Indian-town. Baltimore Sun. A recent sale of land in "Indian-town," "Indian-town," across the Pocomoke rivor from Snow Hill, Md., has brought to light a legend and accompanying superstition which have been handed down from generation to generation of the dwellers of that neighborhood. Where the road leading from Snow Hill to Salisbury is joined by another which leads into the depths of a pine woods stands what would seem to a casual observer only an ordinary brush heap. Beneath the pile of branches and twigs, however, is a small mound, and beneath the mound lie the whitened bones of the Indian maiden Wahema, who died by the hand of her lover, Waspasson, son cl Waspasson, the great hunter, of the tribe of which Weatomotonies was Queen the Weatomonies, who owned vast tracts of land from the Indian River southward and the Pqcomoke westward. The suitors for the hand of Wahema, Wa-hema, it is said, were many, and Waspasson, Was-passon, the son of Waspasson. the friend of Weatomotonies, was the one to whom the heart of Wahema had gone forth; but, as has been the way of maidens, both before and since the day of Wahema, "in public her face was averted, and in anger she named his name." One day as she stood in the twilight |