to the Blissful Island.
He had travelled but a couple of bowshots when it met his view, even
more beautiful than his fathers had painted it.

He stood upon the brow of a hill which sloped gently down to the water
of a lake which stretched as far as eye could see. Upon its banks
were groves of beautiful trees of all kinds, and many canoes were to
be seen gliding over its water. Afar, in the centre of the lake, lay
the beautiful island appointed for the residence of the good. He
walked down to the shore and entered a canoe which stood ready for
him, made of a shining white stone. Seizing the paddle, he pushed off
from the shore and commenced to make his way to the island. As he did
so, he came to a canoe like his own, in which he found her whom he was
in pursuit of. She recognised him, and the two canoes glided side by
side over the water. Then Outalissa knew that he was on the Water of
Judgment, the great water over which every soul must pass to reach the
beautiful island, or in which it must sink to meet the punishment of
the wicked. The two lovers glided on in fear, for the water seemed at
times ready to swallow them, and around them they could see many
canoes, which held those whose lives had been wicked, going down. The
Master of Life had, however, decreed that they should pass in safety,
and they reached the shores of the beautiful island, on which they
landed full of joy.

It is impossible to tell the delights with which they found it filled.
Mild and soft winds, clear and sweet waters, cool and refreshing
shades, perpetual verdure, inexhaustible fertility, met them on all
sides. Gladly would the son of the Red Elk have remained for ever with
his beloved in the happy island, but the words of the Master of Life
came to him in the pauses of the breeze, saying--

"Go back to thy own land, hunter. Your time has not yet come. You
have not yet performed the work I have for you to do, nor can you yet
enjoy those pleasures which belong to them who have performed their
allotted task on earth. Go back, then. In time thou shalt rejoin her,
the love of whom has brought thee hither."

MACHINITOU, THE EVIL SPIRIT.

Chemanitou, being the Master of Life, at one time became the origin of
a spirit that has ever since caused him and all others of his creation
a great deal of disquiet. His birth was owing to an accident. It was
in this wise:--

Metowac, or as the white people now call it, Long Island, was
originally a