ground, while their enraged enemies pushed on, dealing destruction at every blow. And now the two sachems of the tribes rushed together, both of them the boldest warriors of their tribes. With the strength of a lion, the southern Sagamore grasped his antagonist, and hurried him to the very brink of the precipice already his hatchet gleamed in the light, about to fall on the head of his victim, when his arm fell, palsied by a blow from an unseen hand. Heavily he dropped upon the earth, grasping with his left hand the throat of his foeman.

Long and fiercely did they grapple with each other, till by some means the northern chieftain released his hands, and tearing his knife from his belt, held it just ready to plunge into the heart of his foe, when the other, with a sudden spring, cleared the edge of the cliff, dragging with him in his embrace his clenched victim. For a moment there was a fearful silence, as the two bodies fell struggling down the deep abyss, striking upon the projecting edges of the rocks, and finally, with a heavy plunge, falling into the sea. It was a signal for the cessation of hostilities. The few northern Indians that remained, wounded and dispirited, embarked in a single canoe, to bear back the sad intelligence. The remnant of the other tribe, leaving behind their smoking cabins and the bodies of the slain, wandered far back into the country, and from that day to this, the cliff has borne the expressive name of "Skullhead."

TWILIGHT CONFERENCE OF PRAYER.

BY MRS. P. P. SOMPAYRAC.

THE hour of prayer,
Of mortal prayer!

Through the ether, pure and dim,
Borne on wings of seraphim,

How it floats above!

In the breezy twilight still;
How it makes the soft air thrill,

With its breath of love!

Rising, rising, ever rising,

Like an incense from the heart,

Or like troops of happy spirits,

Do those prayers from earth depart.

The power of prayer,

United prayer!

How it breaks the gates of brass,

Which the bound in sin must pass,

With its word of might!

Now with earnest tongues appealing
For the full and blest revealing
Of the heavenly light;
Bearing, bearing, ever bearing
Hopes and aspirations high;

Wearing, wearing, ever wearing
All the radiance of the sky.

The voice of prayer,
Confiding prayer!

How the fallen spirits tremble,

In the haunts where they assemble,
As it heavenward goes!

And in their mad and fruitless ire,
How they press their chains of fire
In their heavy throes;
While winging, winging, ever winging
Through the soft and ambient air,
They accursed, see angels bringing
Up to heaven that voice of prayer.

The voice of prayer,
Of hopeful prayer!

How it letteth glory in,

On the depths of woe and sin,

In this world of dread!

す

Sure, the blessed ones who hover,

And who seek with outspread wings to cover

Each devoted head,

They must smile in soft delight,

When the hour of still twilight,

Wafteth through the ether blue,

Like an incense sweet and new,
That united prayer;

Rising, rising, ever rising,

Like a glorious hymn

Like a gentle melody upborne

By the bright-winged seraphim.

The voice of prayer,
Of earnest prayer!
Far above the exhaling mist,

From the darkened earth I wist,

Gilding heaven's glory,
Where the music of far spheres,
Rolling on through endless years,
Telleth its bright story -
Doth the realm of endless space,
Undulate with spirit voices,

And in every point or place,

Each angelic throng rejoices,

As the voice of mortal praise

Blendeth with their heaven-born lays.

There incorporate it dwells,

With the eternal harmony that swells
From the universe of God;

Rising, rising, ever rising

To the cloud-enveloped throne,

Rising, rising, ever rising

In a glorious monotone.

NATCHITOCHES, LA.