and he bade them not forget their promise to fire a
prairie in the time of a high wind in honour of him who ruled over
that element. Having spoken these words, he began to fade from their
view, as a fire goes out which is left unsupplied with fuel. First,
the sparks from his eyes disappeared--then his breath ceased to be hot
and scorching, and his eyes red and glowing--and soon there was
remaining but the indistinct resemblance of a being with the shape of
a man. A little while, and even that faint glimmering had ceased to
be.

The Nansemonds arose and followed with confidence the fiery ball down
the valley. After travelling in an open path for some time, they came
all at once to the shore of the lake; they saw its little waves
dashing upon the smooth sand, and the stars reflected in the bosom of
the clear waters. The fiery ball now changed its course along the
shore. Following it, they came at the distance of three bowshots to a
little bay, where they found a number of canoes well provided with
paddles, and in each a calebash of good nesh-caminnick, and a piece of
roasted deer's flesh. They entered these canoes, and committed
themselves to the lake. Again the Spirit-ball coaxed them on. Darkness
now hid the moon and stars, but it only rendered their guiding light
more visible. After following it till the dawn of day, they landed
again, and to their great joy found themselves at the foot of the well
known path, which led from the lake to their own country. The
Spirit-ball had disappeared, but it had first placed them beyond the
reach of danger. A few suns, and our fathers once more stood upon the
banks of their own pleasant river, the Nansemond, and listened to the
joyous prattle of their children, and looked into the bright eyes of
their fond wives.

Nor did they forget their promise to the Spirit. Yearly, in the time
of a high wind, they kindled a fire in the dry prairie, that their
deliverer might enjoy the glorious prospect of seeing it swept by the
devouring flame. The warriors know that the custom is still preserved;
they know that every year, in the Corn-Moon, when the grass on the
prairie is ripe and dry, the chief, or the priest, goes to the spot,
and, placing a lighted coal in the grass, makes a bow to it,
pronouncing these words: "Thank you, Spirit!" when the grass
immediately blazes up, and the prairie becomes enveloped in flames.

THE ORIGIN OF WOMEN.

There was a time, when, throughout the Isl