ey were now princely in their generosity.

The captain now got into the boat: Raed and I followed him. Wade
turned to the girls, pointing to himself, then off to the schooner,
and, shaking his head, said, "_Annay, annay!_" Kit did the same. They
then both shook hands with them, shaking their heads all the time very
mournfully, and still repeating the sad "_Annay!_" It is no poetic
fiction to add, that the little black eyes of the pretty savages were
glistening with tears. Kit and Wade then got into the boat, and we
shoved off amid sorrowful cries from the entire group.

"Hold on a bit!" said Raed. "I like to observe them now their feelings
are wrought upon."

The sailors stopped rowing, and the boat was allowed to lie at about
twenty yards from the beach, while Wade sang "Dixie" in his rich,
clear voice. We then waved our hands to them slowly and sorrowfully.
Immediately little _Coo-nee_, with _Wutchee_ and _Wunchee_ and
_Igloo-ee_, took their white bird-skin gloves from their boots, and
drew them on. Then, coming down where the waves touched their feet,
they raised their hands slowly, and began a low, clear chant. At the
end of what appeared to be a stanza, the group on the shore behind
them joined in a sort of chorus resembling the words _Amna-ah-ya,
amna-amna-ah-ya_. The girls then began another stanza, extending their
hands downward toward the sea, waving them slowly to and fro together.
The chorus was then repeated. Their hands and faces were next
directed, during a third stanza, to the west; then toward the far
east. Finally they raised them to the sky, and, chanting clear and
earnestly, seemed to be imploring the blessing of Heaven on us now
departing from them over the wild seas. Kit took off his cap; and we
all followed his example, as if impelled to it. It was really an
affecting incident. Our hardy captain is not a soft-hearted man; but I
saw him wipe a tear from his eye as the chant ceased. I have not
sought to color the picture. There was a wonderful pathos about it. We
had not heard the song before; and I am inclined to believe it
_extempore_,--one of those musical efforts which persons in what we
term the savage state will sometimes make when their feelings are
touched by new and strange influences. Even after the song had ceased,
the girls, as if under its spell, stood holding out their white hands
to us. I can hardly express how much we were moved by it all. Farewell
is, as we all know, a hard word t