votion.

The astonishment of Aishkwagon-ai-bee, and of the whole tribe, is not
to be conceived, and the fame of Wampum-hair mounted to the stars. The
truthful chief spoke earnestly to his daughter, of the merits of
her lover, and proposed him for her husband, but Leelinau showed the
strongest aversion to the union. The haughty maiden inherited the
fierce temper of her father, without his wisdom, and she looked with
contempt on all not distinguished by high descent or bloody deeds,
nor in her soaring pride was there one of the young men of the tribe
worthy of her hand. Not that there were not youthful warriors who
could point to the evidences of their prowess, and whose names were
familiar to the song, but in every instance the difficult beauty had
found some objection, and turned away her head. The truth is, the west
wind, that entices the flowers from the ground in spring, and leads
the bird to its mate, had never breathed upon the heart of Leelinau.

But the time finally came when the maiden was constrained to make a
choice. Her family had become impatient of delay, and Leelinau yielded
to their remonstrances. It was only in appearance, however, that she
acquiesced in the wishes of her relatives. She determined to propose,
as the price of her hand, some enterprise too difficult to be
accomplished. She represented to her father that lightly won, was
lightly prized, and that the daughter of a great chief like him, was
not to be wooed like other maidens, and obtained from him, to whom her
voice was sweeter than the notes of the mocking-bird, his consent to
her scheme.

The conditions on which Leelinau consented to follow a husband to his
lodge were soon known. Only him would she acknowledge for her lord,
who should guide his canoe in safety from the head of the Falls of
the Yaupaae to the little islands below. The old men shook their heads
when they heard the terms, and the squaws said, her heart must be made
of stone, but the young men felt warm, and thought of trying their
fortunes.

The enterprise was more difficult than any Manabozho had undertaken.
When the river was low, it poured almost perpendicularly down, a
height of twenty feet, on rocks, thrusting sharp points into the air,
then bounded in sinuous windings through rifts and basins, made by the
constant beating of the water, and the attrition of stones, whirled
round in the cavities, to dash over a declivity of yet other rocks,
before it reached its calm