s industrious and
cleanly, able to gnaw down a very large tree, and to use her tail to
very good purpose; that he loved her much, and wished to make her the
mother of his children. And thereupon the bargain was concluded.

That day the beaver-maiden became the wife of the Osage, and all the
nation of beavers assembled to eat the marriage-feast. The Osage went
out and killed a lusty raccoon, upon which he fed; but his wife and all
her kindred fed upon the tender bark of the young poplar and alder. A
peace was made between the two nations, which was to last for ever, but
it was broken a long tune ago; and they now take each other's scalps
whenever they can. The next day, the Osage and his wife departed for
the former haunts of the snail, where in a few moons they arrived, and
where their descendants have dwelt to this day.

Brothers, if this is a lie, blame not me, but our fathers and mothers
who told it to us. I have done.

* * * * *

The Author may perhaps be suspected of intending this as a satire upon
Buffon's highly _imaginative_ description of the habits of the Beaver.
Let the reader compare it with that description, and he will be able to
judge for himself. If the tale is a lie, he has only to say in the
language of the Indian--"Blame not me." Several more recent travellers
bear witness, however, to the genuineness of the Tradition.

THE CHOICE OF A GOD.

After a pause of the usual length, Miacomet, an aged Narragansett, rose
and said:

"Brother, I am a Narragansett, and my father and mother were
Narragansetts. I live a journey of more than two moons towards the
rising sun. But you will say the name of the Narragansetts is unknown to
you, and will ask what deeds have they done. Are they warlike? can they
fast long, travel far, and bear the tortures of the flame, without
betraying tears and groans? The tribes of the north, and the south, and
the west, of the Great River, and the Broad Lake, and the Spirit's
Backbone, will say this, for they know us not. Our hunting-fields lie
far apart, and our war-paths are over different forests. But it is only
to those who live a far way off, who have never heard the roaring of the
Great Lake in the time of storms, or killed the fish, whose body is a
mountain, that the Narragansetts are unknown. Our neighbours know us
well, brother; they have both seen and felt us. Come to our cabins,
brothers, and come in what guise you like. If you