they had not observed before, though he was standing close by them. "I have lived almost fourscore and ten years, and my experience may, perhaps, enable me to decide between you." They told him the occasion of their disagreement, and related the history of their journey round the earth. The old man smiled, and, for a few moments, sat buried in thought. He then said to them: "I, too, have lived to see all the hopes of my youth turn into shadows, clouds, and darkness, and vanish into nothing. I, too, have survived my fortune, my friends, my chil dren; the hilarity' of youth, and the blessing of health." "And dost thou not despair?" said Memory. hope left me." "And what is that?" 14. Memory turned toward Hope, threw herself into his arms, which opened to receive her, and, bursting into tears, exclaimed: "Forgive me, I have done thee injustice. Let us never again separate from each other." "With all my heart,” said Hope, and they continued forever after to travel together, hand in hand, through the world. J. K. PAULDING.

"No: I have still one "The hope of heaven!"

90. HIAWATHA'S CANOE-BUILDING.

1. "IVE me of your bark, O Birch-Tree!
"G
Of your yellow bark, O Birch-Tree!
Growing by the rushing river,
Tall and stately in the valley!

I a light canoe will build me,
Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing,
That shall float upon the river,

Like a yellow leaf in Autumn,
Like a yellow water-lily!

"Lay aside your cloak, O Birch-Tree!

Lay aside your white-skin wrapper,

For the Summer-time is coming,
And the sun is warm in heaven,
you need no white-skin wrapper!'

And

'Hi lår' i ty, joyfulness; gayety.

HIAWATHA'S CANOE-BUILDING.

2. Thus aloud cried Hiawatha

in the solitary forest,

By the rushing Taquamenaw,
When the birds were singing gayly,
In the Moon of Leaves were singing,
And the sun, from sleep awaking,
Started up and said, "Behold me!
Geezis, the great Sun, behold me!"
And the tree with all its branches
Rustled in the breeze of morning,
Saying, with a sigh of patience,
"Take my cloak, O Hiawatha !"
With his knife the tree he girdled;'
Just beneath its lowest branches,
Just above the roots, he cut it,
Till the sap came oozing outward;
Down the trunk, from top to bottom,
Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,
With a wooden wedge he raised it,
Stripp'd it from the trunk unbroken.

3. "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!
Of your strong and pliant' branches,
My canoe to make more steady,
Make more strong and firm beneath me!”
Through the summit of the Cedar
Went a sound, a cry of horror,
Went a murmur of resistance;
But it whisper'd, bending downward,
"Take my boughs, O Hiawatha !"
Down he hew'd the boughs of cedar,
Shaped them straightway to a framework,
Like two bows he form'd and shaped them,
Like two bended bows together.

4. "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!

Of your fibrous roots, O Larch-Tree!

213

Gird' led, cut a ring round a tree.- O8z' ing, flowing out slowly.Sheer, clean; quite; at once.- Pll' ant, easily bent; limber.

My canoe to bind together,
So to bind the ends together
That the water may not enter,
That the river may not wet me!"
And the Larch, with all its fibers,
Shiver'd in the air of morning,
Touch'd his forehead with its tassels,
Said, with one long sigh of sõrrōw,
"Take them all, O Hiawatha!"
From the earth he tore the fibers,
Tore the tough roots of the Larch-Tree,
Closely sew'd' the bark together,
Bound it closely to the framework.

5. "Give me of your balm, O Fir-Tree!
Of your balsam and your resin,
So to close the seams together
That the water may not enter,
That the river may not wet me !”
And the Fir-Tree, tall and somber,2
Sobb'd through all its robes of darkness,
Rattled like a shore with pebbles,
Answer'd wailing, answer'd weeping,
"Take my balm, O Hiawatha !"
And he took the tears of balsam,
Took the resin of the Fir-Tree,

Smear'd therewith each seam and fissure,
Made each crevice1 safe from water.

6. "Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!
All your quills, O Kagh, the Hedgehog!
I will make a necklace of them,
Make a girdle for my beauty;
And two stars to deck her bosom!"
From a hollow tree the Hedgehog
With his sleepy eyes look'd at him,

Shot his shining quills, like arrows,

Sewed (sod).- Sôm' ber, gloomy; dusky.- Fissure (fish ye"). crack; split; opening.—a Crêv' ice, crack; opening.

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

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Saying, with a drowsy murmur,
Through the tangle of his whiskers,
"Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"

From the ground the quills he gather's
All the little shining arrows,
Stain'd them red, and blue, and yellow,
With the juice of roots and berries ;
Into his canoe he wrought them,
Round its waist a shining girdle,
Round its bows a gleaming necklace,
On its breast two stars resplendent.'
7. Thus the Birch Canoe was builded
In the valley, by the river,
In the bosom of the forest;
And the forest's life was in it,
All its mystery and its magic,
All the lightness of the birch-tree,
All the toughness of the cedar,
All the larch's supple2 sinews;
And it floated on the river

Like a yellow leaf in Autumn,
Like a yellow water-lily.

H. W. LONGFELLOW.

91. NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

OT many generations3 ago, where you now sit, encircled with all that exalts and embellishes1 civilized life, the rank thistle nodded in the wind, and the wild fox dug his hole unscared. Here lived and loved another race of beings. Beneath the same sun that rolls over your head, the Indian hunter pursued the panting deer; gazing on the same moon that smiles for you, the Indian lover wooed his dusky mate.

2. Here, the wigwam-blaze beamed on the tender and help

'Re splen' dent, shining with brilliant luster; bright.- Sůp' ple, pliant; flexible; easily bent.-3 Gen er å' tion, the people living at the same time; an age.- Em bål' lish es, adorns; makes beautiful by ornaments. Wig' wam, an Indian hut, or cabin.

6

less, and the council-fire glared on the wise and daring. Now, they dipped their noble limbs in your sedgy1 lakes, and now, they paddled the light canoe along your rocky shores. Here they warred; the echoing whoop, the bloody grapple, the defying death-song, all were here; and when the tiger-strife was over, here curled the smoke of peace.

3. Here, too, they worshiped; and from many a dark bosom went up a fervent prayer to the Great Spirit. He had not written his laws for them on tables of stone, but he had traced them on the tables of their hearts. The poor child of Nature knew not the God of Revelation, but the God of the universe2 he acknowledged in every thing around.

4. He beheld him in the star that sank in beauty behind his lonely dwelling; in the sacred orb that flamed on him from his mid-day throne; in the flower that snapped in the morning breeze; in the lofty pine that defied a thousand whirlwinds; in the timid warbler that never left its native grove; in the fearless eagle, whose untired pinion was wet in clouds; in the worm that crawled at his feet; and in his own matchless form, glowing with a spark of that light, to whose mysterious source he bent in humble, though blind adoration.

5. And all this has passed away. Across the ocean came a pilgrim3 bark, bearing the seeds of life and death. The former were sown for you; the latter sprang up in the path of the simple native. Two hundred years have changed the character of a great continent, and blotted forever from its face, a whōle, peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of nature, and the anointed children of education have been too powerful for the tribes of the ignorant.

6. Here and there, a stricken few remain; but how unlike their bold, untamable progenitors. The Indian of falcon glance and lion bearing, the theme' of the touching ballad, the hero of

Sedgy (sej' y), overgrown with a narrow flag or coarse grass, called sedge.-' U' ni verse, the whole system of created things.-3 Pfl' grim, a wanderer ; a traveler who has a religious object.—a Usurped (yủ zêrpt'), taken, and retained that which does not belong to us.- Pro gen' i tors, forefathers. Falcon (fá' kn), like a falcon, a bird of the hawk kind.Thème, topic or subject on which one writes.— Bål' lad, a song; generally, a story in verse.