earth, and they will tell them to you
with all the gravity imaginable.] His friends believe that he may hold
communion with Unk-ta-he,--that from that God he will learn the
mysteries of the Earth and Water; and when he lives again in another
form, he will instruct the Dahcotahs in their religion, and be a great
medicine man.

Good Road is quite reconciled to his sons, for he says it was a brave
deed to get rid of an enemy. In vain does Old Bets ask for vengeance on
the murderers. Good Road reminds her that Shining Iron had made a
threat, and it was not proper he should live; and the chief insisted
more upon this, when he added that these children of her's were by a
former husband, and it was natural his sons should resent their father's
preference for them.

So after all Old Bets doubts whether she, or the Chief's first wife, has
got the best of it; and as she dresses the wounds of her daughter, she
wishes that the Dahcotahs had killed her mother instead of adopting
her--lamenting, too, that she should ever have attained to the honor of
being Good Road's wife.

WENONA;

OR,

THE VIRGIN'S FEAST.

Never did the sun shine brighter than on a cold day in December, when
the Indians at "Little Crow's" village were preparing to go on a deer
hunt. The Mississippi was frozen, and the girls of the village had the
day before enjoyed one of their favorite amusements--a ball-play on the
ice. Those who owned the bright cloths and calicoes which were hung up
before their eyes, as an incentive to win the game, were still rejoicing
over their treasures; while the disappointed ones were looking sullen,
and muttering of partiality being shown to this one because she was
beautiful, and to that, because she was the sister of the chief.

"Look at my head!" said Harpstenah; "Wenona knew that I was the swiftest
runner in the band, and as I stooped to catch the ball she struck me a
blow that stunned me, so that I could not run again."

But the head was so ugly, and the face too, that there was no pity felt
for her; those dirty, wrinkled features bore witness to her contempt for
the cleansing qualities of water. Her uncombed hair was hanging in
masses about her ears and face, and her countenance expressed cruelty
and passion. But Harpstenah had nothing to avenge; when she was young
she was passed by, as there was nothing in her face or disposition that
could attract; and now in the winter of life she was so ugly and so
desolate,