right
breast of the oriole, and she stood and nodded at him from the prairie
toward the north. But Shawondasee, although he loved the bright-haired
maiden and longed for her until he filled the air with sighs of
tenderness, was so lazy and listless that he never sought to win her
love. Never did he rouse himself and tell her of his passion, but he
stayed far to the southward, and murmured half asleep among the
palm-trees as he dreamed of the bright maiden.

One morning, when he awoke and gazed as usual toward the north, he saw
that the beautiful golden hair of the maiden had become as white as
snow, and Shawondasee cried out in his sorrow: "Ah, my brother of the
North-wind, you have robbed me of my treasure! You have stolen the
bright-haired maiden, and have wooed her with your stories of the
Northland!" and Shawondasee wandered through the air, sighing with
passion until, lo and behold! the maiden disappeared.

Foolish Shawondasee! It was no maiden that you longed for. It was the
prairie dandelion, and you puffed her away forever with your useless
sighing.

III

HIAWATHA'S CHILDHOOD

NO doubt you will wonder what the stories of the Four Winds have to do
with Hiawatha, and why he has not been spoken of before; but soon you
will see that if you had not read these stories, you could not
understand how the life of Hiawatha was different from that of any other
Indian. And Hiawatha had been chosen by the great Manito to be the
leader of the red men, to share their troubles and to teach them; so of
course there were a great many things that took place before he was born
that have to be remembered when we think of him.

In the full moon, long ago, the beautiful Nokomis was swinging in a
swing of grape-vines and playing with her women, when one of them, who
had always wished to do her harm, cut the swing and let Nokomis fall to
earth. As she fell, she was so fair and bright that she seemed to be a
star flashing downward through the air, and the Indians all cried out:
"See, a star is dropping to the meadow!"

There on the meadow, among the blossoms and the grasses, a daughter was
born to Nokomis, and she called her daughter Wenonah. And her daughter,
who was born beneath the clear moon and the bright stars of heaven, grew
into a maiden sweeter than the lilies of the prairie, lovelier than the
moonlight and purer than the light of any star.

Wenonah was so beautiful that the West-wind, the mighty West-wind,
Mud