2

NOPA. Ida Sexton Searls, 136

THE SEA-GULL, 139

SWEET WATER, 162

DEATH OF WINONA. H. L. Gordon, 171

THE LEGEND OF THE MOCCASIN FLOWER. Ida Sexton Searls, 175

NOTES, 179

PREFACE.

In presenting to the public this volume the compiler wishes to disown
any attempt at a complete collection of Indian legends; both her
knowledge of archaeology, and the time allowed for the completion of
the work are inadequate to such an achievement. She has attempted to
gather the more noticeable legends already in verse in order to
stimulate interest in the scenery and romance of her State. From its
name--Minnesota--to its floral emblem--the moccasin flower--the State
everywhere bears the impress of former occupation. About every lake,
forest, and valley clings the aroma of romance in the form of name or
legend of the vanished Red Man.

The indistinct memory of his loves, wars, and adventures is growing
rapidly fainter, until even the story-teller himself is confused as to
the relation between event and locality. It has therefore seemed wise
to link indissolubly scene and incident, that the poetry of those who
have here lived and loved may not be completely displaced by the
prosaic commerce of the white man.

The compiler wishes also to express her thanks to the writers who have
allowed their works to reappear in this volume: To Rev. E. D. Neill,
D.D., for much valuable counsel, and to Houghton, Mifflin & Co., for
permission to make extracts from Hiawatha.

INDIAN LEGENDS.

* * * * *

The Lone War-Path.

A STORY OF SIOUX AND BLACKFOOT.

O'er a vast prairie stoops the sultry night;
The moon in her broad kingdom wanders white;
High hung in space, she swims the murky blue.
Low lies yon village of the roaming Sioux--
Its smoke-stained lodges, moving toward the west,
By conquering Sleep invaded and possessed.

All there, save one, own his benign command;
Their chief has lately left this little band,
And up the glittering path of spirits fled;
Thus his young widow, not a twelvemonth wed,
In yonder solitary tent conceals
The aching hope, the trembling pangs she feels.

How breathless is the night! None saw it rise--
That black cloud stealing up the glassy skies--