see
it harvested in the Moon of Falling Leaves. They left the doors of
their cabins unlatched at night, and the sentinel slept as sound and
as long as the new-born babe. Their arrows were eaten up by the rust
of sloth and inactivity, and the strings of their bows were rotted by
the mildew of carelessness and idleness. The aged met not now in the
great council-house, to plan distant expeditions, or frustrate
expected invasions; the youth spent their time in courting and
marrying. The fame of Chepiasquit changed the character of the nation
from warlike to peaceable, and banished from the land the vulture of
war and havoc, to give place to the dove of peace and tranquillity.

[Footnote A: Hollow voice--echo.]

Four wives had this wise priest; they bore him many children: but,
great as was his power with the Master of the World, it did not enable
him to obtain for them a continuance of life beyond the second moon of
their birth. All, save one, died while they were yet swinging in their
cradles of willow-bark from the bough of the tree--that one, a
daughter, was spared to his entreaties and prayers. Winona, or the
first-born, for that was the name bestowed on the child, grew up in
the cabin of her father, beautiful beyond any maiden that ever graced
the nation of Cherokees. How shall I describe to my brother from the
far country the matchless charms of Chepiasquit's virgin daughter!
Shall I tell him that her eyes were the eyes of the mountain kid, and
her hair long and glossier than the plumage of the raven, and her
teeth white and even, and her hand delicate and plump, and her foot
small and speedy? Shall I say that her voice was joyful as the voice
of a mated bird in spring, and her temper cheerful, sweet, mild, kind,
and always the same? Shall I increase his admiration for the beautiful
creature, by telling him that she best loved to sit by the quiet
hearth of her parents, leaving it to lighter and less amiable maidens
to rove on idle errands and frivolous pursuits through the village.
For, let my brother learn, she was that wonder, a woman, contented and
happy in her own house, with none but her own father to listen or
reply. During the long evenings of the period when the sun is away
from the earth for so great a portion of the day, she would sit on her
soft couch of skins and dried moss, listening to the tales he would
repeat of the wonderful things he had seen and heard; the dreams of
strange and fearful creatures