of rich voices filled the little hut with a melody that thrilled through our very hearts. The hymn was sung in the Indian tongue; a language that is peculiarly sweet and soft in its cadences, and seems to be composed of many vowels. I could not but notice the modest air of the girls as if anxious to avoid the observation which they attracted by their sweet voices, they turned away from the gaze of the strangers, facing each other, and bending their heads down over the work they still held in their hands. The attitude, which is that of the Eastern nations, the dress, dark hair and eyes, the olive complexion, heightened color, and meek expression of face, would have formed a study for a painter. I was pleased with the air of deep reverence that sat on the faces of the elders of the Indian family, as they listened to the voices of their children singing praise and glory to the God and Savior whom they had learned to fear and love. The Indians seem most tender parents: it is pleasing to see the affectionate manner in which they treat their young children, fondly and gently caressing them, with eyes and looks overflowing with love. During the singing, each pappoose crept to the feet of its respective father and mother, and those that were too young to join their voices with the little choir remained quite silent till the hymn was at an end. One little girl of three years evidently possessed a fine ear, and a natural taste for music, who beat time on her father's knee, and from time to time chimed in her infant voice. I was at a loss to conceive where the Indians kept their stores, clothes, and other movables, the wigwam being so small that there seemed no room for any thing besides them. selves and their hounds. Their ingenuity, however, supplied the want of room; and I soon discovered a plan that answered all the purposes of closets, bags, boxes, &c., the inner lining of birch-bark being drawn between the poles, so as to form pouches all round. In these pouches were stowed their goods; I one set held their stock of dried deer's flesh, another dried fish, a third contained some flat cakes. Their dressed skins, clothes, materials for their various toys, such as beads, quills, bits of cloth, silk, with a great number of miscellaneous articles, occupied the rest of these reservoirs. Though open for a considerable space at the top, the interior of the wigwam was so hot that I could scarcely breathe; and I was constrained to throw off all my outer garments during the time we staid. Before we went away, the hunter insisted in showing us a game, which was something after the manner of our cup and ball, only more complicated, and requiring more sleight of hand; and the Indians seemed evidently well pleased at our want of adroitness. They also showed us another game, which was a little like ninepins, only the number of sticks stuck in the ground was greater. I was unable to stay to see the little rows of sticks knocked out, as the heat of the wigwam oppressed me almost to suffocation, and I was glad to feel myself once more breathing the pure air. LESSON XVI. The Chase of Konno. ANONYMOUS. So softly bright the sun's last ray * Was gleaming on Dacotah's height, To usher in the gentle night, A hill from which the Sioux received their Indian appellation. Whose drooping form and pallid cheek Not hers the pride, the fierce disdain, By one, whose hand, though red with slaughter, Washed off the blood-stain to caress, With deepest love, his lovely daughter. While some among the ruthless throng Konno, the young and fearless, stood: But sudden in his heart there gushed A hope-a thrill warm, bright, and new, And short and quick his breath he drew; rife When first the torches fired the train, The blade descends - the bonds are severed; then turned, His courser's hoof the firebrands spurned; The boldest, fearful, backward drew, When Konno and his prize dashed through, So fierce his joy, so fell his mood, On to the prairie, free and fleet, - Over the sea-like plain they flew, The darkling forest they threaded through, While the vain followers of the track I HAVE trod this land for many a year, The gushing stream, and the wild-wood near, I have watched yon sea in days of old, I have stemmed its wave in winter's cold; These aged boughs did once o'erspread The Indian's last retreat; They flung their shade on the dreamless bed, |