say that only certain parts of the animal are con- 610 sidered eligible1 in these extempore 2 banquets. The Indians would look with abhorrence on any one who should partake indiscriminately3 of the newly killed

carcass.

FRANCIS PARKMAN.

QUESTIONS FOR STUDY

Describe the author's arrival at the village. (Lines 36-100.)

What tribe was this? (Line 324.).

How did they welcome him? (Lines 101–129.) What notions did the Indians have of thunder? (Lines 145-180.)

Describe the gathering and the speeches in the tent. (Lines 260-354.)

Describe the moving. (Lines 416-477.)

Describe The Hail Storm's hunting of the buffalo. (Lines 535-563.)

Are there any Indians today as wild as those here described?

Where are the most highly civilized Indians found? What are the proverbial traits of the Indian?

1 Eligible, desirable.

2 Extempore (ex-tém-po-re), offhand.

3 Indiscriminately, treating all alike.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT

(1794-1878)

Bryant was the first American poet to win acknowledgment of the literary world. He was a New Englander, like so many of the earlier writers of this

country. He studied at Williams College, and even while a mere boy in college, wrote Thanatopsis, one of his greatest poems. In later years he devoted his life to editorship. He was the founder and, for a long period, the director of the New York Evening Post. His poetry is mainly poetry of

nature, and has a

serious cast.

Besides his original poems, Bryant wrote a trans

lation of Homer's Iliad and Odyssey.

THANATOPSIS

"Thanatopsis" means "A view of death," a strange theme for a seventeen year old poet. The poem is full of beautiful figures of speech.

"Thanatopsis owes the extent of its celebrity to its nearly absolute freedom from defect, in the ordinary understanding of the term. I mean to say that its negative merit recommends it to the public attention. It is a thoughtful, well constructed, well versified poem. The concluding thought is exceedingly noble."

EDGAR ALLAN POE.

To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Into his darker musings, with a mild
And healing sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart,
Go forth, under the open sky, and list

To Nature's teachings, while from all around-
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air
Comes a still voice. Yet a few days, and thee

5

10

15

The all-beholding sun shall see no more

In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, 20 Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist

Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again, And, lost each human trace, surrendering up 25 Thine individual being, shalt thou go To mix forever with the elements,

To be a brother to the insensible rock

And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak 30 Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mold.

Yet not to thine eternal resting place

Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world - with kings, 35 The powerful of the earth the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, All in one mighty sepulcher. The hills Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun, the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between; 40 The venerable woods rivers that move

In majesty, and the complaining brooks

That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,

Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,

Are but the solemn decorations all

1

Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings
Of morning, and the Barcan 1 desert pierce,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon,2 and hears no sound,
Save his own dashings - yet the dead are there:
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep -the dead reign there alone.
So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw
Unheeded by the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall

come

And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glide away, the sons of men,

The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid,

1 Barcan, from Barca, a province of Tripoli in Africa, on the borders of the Desert of Sahara.

2 Oregon, the Columbia River.