of a woman. Regard them not, O son of Lodonto! Think of the fame of our fathers, ere the glory departed from them. When the Sun sinks to his rest, or rising reddens the hill-tops, and I speak to Him whom the eye seeth not, thy name, Ontologon, will be first,—last in my prayer. I would not that thou shouldst know all the weakness of my heart. Be thou strong in the day of evil, and the Great Spirit give thee a name among thy race."
Scarcely had she finished speaking, when the Pastor of the tribe, having ended his private farewells, and benedictions, advanced to the centre of the circle. His head was uncovered, and traces of emotion were visible on his brow. Waving his hand the throng separated, those who were to depart, from those who were to remain. There was a brief and heavy silence, during which he past his hand over his eyes. Then, gathering firmness as he proceeded, he spoke with the tenderness of a father, who sees the children, whom he has reared, departing from the paternal abode; yet with the solemnity of a spiritual teacher, who desires above all things, the edification of his flock.
"Think ye not, as ye thus divide, neighbour from neighbour, and friend from friend, and parent from child—think ye not of that eternal separation at the last day, where on one side shall be anthems of joy, on the other wailing and gnashing of teeth? And what hand shall then remove you one from another, as "a shepherd divideth the sheep from the goats?" What hand, but that which was pierced
