not.

which had long been his hunting companion, and had guarded him many a night when camping on the prairies. The girl had in her veins the blood of Indian heroes, and she quailed She demanded with lofty enthusiasm to be made his wife; and then, acquainted with every stratagem of savage war, and with every faculty sharpened by affection and her husband's danger, she watched, warned, and shielded him at all times with a vigilance that never failed.

XLI.—THE SAME SUBJECT, CONCLUDED.

IN vain the brother of the Wolf surveyed from afar this fortress of the Eagle. It was evident that long before he could reach a point from which the young warrior could be seen, he would himself be within the range of his rifle, without a cover of any kind. Often, by night, he attempted to ascend the mound; but scarcely could he put his foot upon its base before the dog of the Eagle would give his master the alarm, and then to approach would only be to go to his own death. It was known that the Young Eagle's food could be brought to him by no one but his wife; but no one saw her form, or heard her footsteps on the mound.

The brother of the Wolf knew well that the Eagle's wife must supply him with food, and determined, if possible, to entrap him. He therefore studied and imitated her gait, and carefully observed her dress; and when he felt that he was perfect in his part, he arrayed himself one evening in a dress the exact counterpart of hers, with knife and tomahawk concealed beneath, and bearing some food openly before him, took, just at twilight, the common path up the mound, where he knew the mere sound of footsteps would be less likely to alarm the dog or his master; and he hoped to approach so near without suspicion, that he might by a sudden rush secure his victim.

His plan was skilfully executed. He imitated well the light

step of Eagle's wife; the approaching form was one familiar to the dog, and he had not caught the scent. He wagged his tail, as he lay with his eye fixed, as if he would soon bound forward with a welcome. The Eagle addressed his supposed wife in gentle tones, and bade her hasten. The avenger of blood was within ten feet of his intended victim, and thought that all was gained; when the dog, with one yell and one bound, threw himself upon him, and bore him to the earth, with his jaws grappled to his throat.

Entangled by the female dress, and throttled by the hound, he could not draw his knife; and the Eagle, who understood the scene at a glance, deprived him of his weapons while held by the dog, and then pinioned his arms. "Now go to your friends," said the young warrior; "I crave not your blood. Your brother sought my life on this very spot, and I slew him, but only to save my own. But stay; you shall go home as a

warrior should. You have shown some skill in this." He then cut the pinions from his arms, and gave him back his weapons. They were taken in silence, and the humbled, yet grateful foe withdrew.

Three months thus had passed away, and negotiations were opened for a ransom. The friends in such a case agree first to treat, but do not engage to accept what may be offered for life. This is to be decided only on a spot appointed for the ceremony, and with the shedder of blood unarmed, completely in their power, and bound by the law to make no resistance. When the parties are present, and the proposed ransom is offered, it is considered by the friends of the slain man, and if accepted all is settled; but if not, they have the right to slay the murderer on the spot, without resistance from him or his friends.

In this case the friends of the Wolf agreed to consider a ransom, and Young Eagle consented to abide the issue, he and his friends hoping that the sparing of the brother's life might have some influence in the decision. Besides, it was now generally believed in the tribe that the Wolf had been the aggressor.

At the day appointed, the parties met in an open space, with hundreds present to witness the scene. The Eagle, all unarmed, was first seated on the ground, and by his side a large knife was laid down, with which he was to be slain if the ransom were not accepted. By his side sat his wife, her hand clasped in his, while the eyes even of old men were dim with tears. Over against them, and so near that the fatal knife could be easily seized, stood the family of the slain Wolf, the father at the head, by whom the question of life or death was to be settled. He seemed deeply moved, and sad rather than revengeful.

A red blanket was now produced, and spread upon the ground. It signified that blood had been shed which was not yet washed away, the crimson stain remaining. Next a blanket all of blue was laid over the red one. It expressed the hope that the blood might be washed out in heaven, and remembered no more. Last, a blanket purely white was spread over all, significant of a desire that nowhere on earth or in heaven a stain of the blood should remain, and that every where, and by all, it should be forgiven and forgotten.

These blankets, thus spread out, were to receive the ransom. The friends of the Eagle brought goods of various kinds, and piled them high before the father of the slain. He looked at them a moment in silence, and then his glance wandered to the fatal knife. The wife of the Eagle threw her arms around her husband's neck, and turned her eyes, imploringly, full upon the old man's face, without a word. He had stretched his hand towards the knife when he met that look. He paused; his fingers moved convulsively, but they did not grasp the handle. His lips quivered, and a tear moistened his eye. “Father," said the brother, "he spared my life." The old man turned away. "I accept the ransom," he said; "the blood of my son is washed away. I see no stain now on the hand of the Eagle, and he shall be in the place of my son."

The feud was completely healed. All were at last convinced that the Eagle was not a murderer; the ransom itself

was presented to his wife as a gift, and he and the avenger of blood lived afterwards as friends and brothers.

XLII.-THE CATARACT OF LODORE.

SOUTHEY.

[The cataract of Lodore is near the lake of Derwentwater, in the county of Cumberland, England.]

"How does the water
Come down at Lodore?"
My little boy asked me
Thus once on a time;

And moreover he asked me

To tell him in rhyme.

Anon, at the word,

There first came one daughter,

And then came another,

To second and third

The request of their brother,

And to hear how the water

Comes down at Lodore,

With its rush and its roar,
As

many a time

They had seen it before.
So I told them in rhyme,
For of rhymes I had store;
And 'twas in my vocation,
For their recreation,
That so I should sing;

Because I was laureate *

This piece was written in 1820, at which time Southey was poet laureate. This is an office, with a small salary attached to it, bestowed by the kings or queens of England upon some one of their subjects who has given proof of poetical power. The poet laureate was formerly expected to write odes and poems on the king's birthday, and other public occasions; but such services

To them and the king.

From its sources which well
In the tarn * on the fell,†
From its fountains

In the mountains,

Through moss and through brake,

It runs and it creeps

For a while till it sleeps
In its own little lake.
And thence at departing,
Awakening and starting,
It runs through the reeds,
And away it proceeds,
Through meadow and glade,
In sun and in shade,

And through the wood shelter,
Among crags in its flurry,
Helter skelter,

Hurry skurry.

Here it comes sparkling,
And there it lies darkling;
Now smoking and frothing
Its tumult and wrath in,
Till in this rapid race
On which it is bent,
It reaches the place
Of its steep descent.

The cataract strong
Then plunges along,
Striking and raging

As if a war waging

Its caverns and rocks among;

are not now required, and the office is merely a compliment to literary merit.

Tennyson is now (1857) poet laureate.

*Tarn, a mountain lake.

† Fell, a barren hill.