“ For thy father sleeps sound,
And his stiffened corse lies
On his enemy's ground.
Wake not, my brave child,
Thou wilt wrestle, too soon,
With the miseries of life,—
'Tis the red man's dark doom. 115
O'er the fate of the Indian
The Great Spirit has cast
The spell of the white man—
His glory is past.
Like the day that is dying
As fades the bright sun,
Like the warrior expiring
When the battle is done.
Soon no more will our warriors
Meet side by side,
To talk of their nation,
Its power and pride.
'Tis the white man who rules us
And tramples us down ”

“ See her! the tears are on her cheek, yet there is a smile of exultation too—the blood is streaming from her bosom and her arms.
With her left hand she leads her young son forward. In her right she holds a large and flaming torch of pine. The red light of the burning wood contrasts strangely with the white light of the moon; the black smoke rises and is lost in the fleecy clouds that are flying through the air.
The silence is broken only by the heart-breaking sobs of the Chippeway girl. The Sioux woman kneels, and carefully holds the torch under the brush and kindling-wood. ”

“ Fiery Man no more boasted of his intercourse with the gods; they seemed to have forgotten they were his friends.
He had sought far and near for his wife. At times his heart was full of revenge: that she should have destroyed his son was the bitterest reflection of all. His sister's blood seemed still to be flowing before him; vengeance was called for on her who had made his lodge dark for ever. Then a different mood would affect him. She would stand before him, obedient, docile, and timid, with her soft, fearful voice, so different from the loud tones of his sister's. ”

“ You may see one, who, though past her youth, still attracts you by the full and expressive glances of her dark and brilliant eyes. Her hair (a marvel among Indians) , waves along her forehead—and when damp from heat or bathing, divides itself into locks, that would with any pains be formed into ringlets. Her smile lights up her countenance, for her white teeth shine, and her mouth, though large, is expressive. She will not open her heart to a stranger, but to one she loves, she told all.
She had seen but fourteen summers when she left her mother to go to her husband's lodge. ”

“ She does not then take the form of a woman, but quietly enfolds the heavens with her robe of light. This they interpret as a favourable omen. The heavens, they say, are rejoicing on their account; the stars shine out brighter in honour of their victory; while, to use the Indian warrior's own words, it is as if their goddess said to them, "Rejoice and dance, my grandchildren, for I have given you victory." "The old woman," he says, wore a cap, on the top of which were little balls or knots, of the same kind with which warriors adorn themselves after having killed an enemy. ”

“ A gleam of life and consciousness passed over his faded features, as an Indian girl advanced towards him: it was a child he dearly loved, soon to be left without a protector.
"My daughter," said the old man feebly, as the maiden threw herself on the ground beside him, and covered with her tears his cold hands; then raising herself, as she saw the wound still bleeding, she tore a piece from her okendokenda, and endeavoured to staunch it. "It is too late, my child; the soul of your father longs to join the warriors who live in the land of spirits. Where are your brothers?" ”

“ Morning found him again in his lodge, calm, fearless as ever. The Sioux thought he must wear a charmed life, and they kept from the reach of his arm: and the children, even his own, played where they could not see his dark face as he watched their amusements.
There is a spell, however, that few Indians can resist; it is to them an unfailing quietus for care: they can fancy they are free when fire-water quickens the coursing of their veins. They curse the white man from the heart, and hope and look forward to the time when the red man shall have his own again. ”

“ Will not woman, with her kind heart and gentle voice, ask that his life may be spared? Alas! it is woman's work that we are witnessing: they bound his limbs, they have beaten him, and even now are they disputing for the privilege of lighting the fire which is to consume him. Loud cries arise, but the contention is soon quelled, for the deep bass voice of the medicine-man is heard above theirs, and he says that the newly made widow, and she alone, shall start the blaze, and then all may join in adding fuel to the fire, and insult to the present disgrace of the Chippeway warrior. ”

“ Indian women will talk of their wrongs as long as they feel them, and that will be until the heart has ceased to beat, and the tongue is silent for ever.
We-har-ka lives on the memory of her sorrows. She holds them to her heart, as does the mother her child of a day old. They are dear to her as would be the hope of vengeance.
I say she lives, but I know not. Seasons have gone since I bade adieu to her home, and it may be, she is all unconscious that winter is gone, and that summer's breath is waving the green boughs of the forest trees as they lift up their branches to the heavens. ”

“ A sad scene was presented at the village of Gray Eyes: the old chief lay helpless among those who had obeyed his slightest word, the glaze of death dimming an eye that for more than eighty winters had watched the snow, as it drifted from vale to vale. Life had not yet departed: you could feel the pulse still flutter, and the heart faintly beat, but the thoughts of the chief were in spirit-land, and his soul hasted to burst its prison bars, that it might renew the combat where the Dacotas would aye be the victors. ”

“ What I mean to say is,—not that a wife should have no friend save her husband,—but that, if the hearts of the twain are as closely linked together as they should be, if they always beat in perfect unison, and if their thoughts and feelings harmonize as they ought to do, it will be difficult for her to draw aside the veil from her own heart, and lay it open to the gaze of any other being, without, in some degree, betraying the confidence reposed in her by him who should be nearer and dearer than all the world beside. The heart is like a temple, Jessie. ”

“ Every sound that was uttered was more distinct, from the intense quiet that pervaded all nature. The face of the victim, now turned to the sky, now bent in scorn over his enemies; that of his son, pale, proud, and indifferent; the unrestrained grief of the girl, who only raised her head to gaze at her father, then trembling, with sobs, hid it deeper in her bosom; the malignant triumph of the Sioux men, the excitement and delight of the women;—all these were distinctly visible in the glowing brightness of the night. ”

“ Then came back the colour to the bronzed cheek of Fiery Man, and the flashing to his eye. Then did he stand erect, like one that had never known grief—then did love change to bitter hatred. The wife of his bosom was his worst enemy. There were no more tears, but loud threats of vengeance—no trembling, but firm purposes of revenge.
He went again to the lodge, to look at his sister's body. He left her, and stood by the grave of his child. He laid his hand upon the little body, and stood thus while he decided what to do. ”

“ The Thunder-Bird resorts to cunning. He takes the form of a large bird, but his disguise is always penetrated by the smallest forest-bird; they know him, and, like faithful servants, keep near their lord. Again and again the thunder rolls, and the lightning plays about the branches of the tree. The waters swell and rise up to anger the Thunder-Bird, and to tempt him to do battle, but he has too many quarrels to resent against the forest gods, and the day of his vengeance is come. It is not often that he has courage to tempt the forest god to battle, for he knows his power ”

“ Tell him that my arm was like a child's because of the winters I had seen, but that he must revenge his brother's death; then will he be like the brave men who have gone before him, and his deeds will be remembered as long as the Dacotas hate their enemies. The shadows grow deeper on the hills, and the long night will soon rest upon the head of the war-chief. I am old, yet my death-song shall call back the spirits of the dead. Where are the Chippeways, my enemies? See their red scalps scorching in the sun! I am a great warrior ”

“ My parents laughed at my enthusiastic praises of my new friend; but they soon became assured that they were well grounded: and it was not long before the answer, "Oh, she has only gone to see Aunt Mary," was the most satisfactory one that could be given to the oft-repeated query, "Where in the world has Jessie gone now?"
She lived almost the life of a recluse; seldom mingling with the villagers, save in the services of the sanctuary, or when, like a ministering angel, she hovered around the couch of the dying. ”

“ Chippeway and Sioux had fallen in the death-struggle, locked in the embrace which bound foe to foe. She had given her heart's devoted love to one whom she must now consider as her enemy. Sounding Wind, a noble young Chippeway, handsome in person, and already favoured among his own people, had promised to take her to his wigwam when the two nations were at peace, though there were many then who foreboded the strife that would rend the ties of friendship between the nations. ”

“ Death is strong, but love is stronger.
The amnesties that have been made between the Sioux and Chippeways for many years have been of short duration: it appears now that the two nations will be friendly only when the lion and the lamb shall lie down together, should the two nations exist at that happy period. The sight of each other's blood is as precious to a Chippeway or Sioux as would be the secret of perpetual youth to an octogenarian, who eagerly grasps his tenure for life, loving, and fearing to lose it to the last. ”

“ Again, as ever, she told the priest he was good and kind, but that she knew the Great Spirit was the father of all. Father Blanc's insinuating eloquence touched her feelings, but her heart was unaffected: yet the father, glad of a listener, even in the untutored Indian girl, dwelt on scenes long past, and it might be forgotten by all but him.
When the moon rose they sat outside the lodge on a mat. They were now both silent. The thoughts of the Jesuit wandered far and wide: memory transported him to the forests of Languedoc. ”

“ The dry twigs snap apart, and the smoke curls around the limbs of the prisoner: now the bright red flames embrace his form.
The warrior is still; he is collecting his energies and challenging his powers of endurance.
Chashé stood up. "My father," said he, "fled from the fire of the Chippeways; but you like the fire of the Dacotas, for you stand still."
"The Sioux are great warriors," replied the Chippeway, "when they fight old men and children," looking at the same time towards his daughter. ”

“ When I reflect on the tradition of the Sioux, that once only has human life been offered in sacrifice, and then a father took the life of his son—when in the quiet night I mind me of those whose destiny seems now to be in our power for good or evil, I remember that when the world was new, Abraham, in holy faith, yet with a breaking heart, led his much-loved child—the child of hope and promise, to sacrifice his life in obedience to the command of God. ”