sight of her home until the time of her morning meal. In one of these excursions she was elambering up a ledge of rocks when she dipped her hands into some wild honeycomb filled with sweets, and made of the earliest flowers of spring. Thoughtlessly she broke it into fragments, and piled the delicious masses into an apron made of leaves, while all around her head the bees buzzed busily without the infliction of a sting. Although in faith a Christian, Gentle Dove adhered religiously to many customs of her ancestors, so far as they did not conflict with her Christian faith. She loved her tribe and people, and her own dear home, from which she was banished, and she longed to dwell again among her kindred, to assuage their ferocious spirit, and to teach them the offices of kindness and of love. Day after day passed away in her hopeless solitude, and brought no tidings from her distant lord. Yet she had the most manifest proofs of the Divine protection in the little miracles which diversified her lonely career. The courier had taken that lock of hair from her devoted head, and carried it to Omaint-si-ar-nah at his encampment, who supposed that his cruel mandate had been obeyed. Hence he continued to be reckless of life, and did not make haste to return to the homes of his fathers.
In the mean time Morning-Glory increased in stature, and was straight and slender as a reed. So soon as she could be made to comprehend, she was instructed in the first principles of the Christian faith. In the cathedral-like and solemn gloom of primitive woods, each day her little hands were clasped in prayer, and the whole place was rendered consecrate. There was a music in her lisping voice, which rose to heaven with a more buoyant ease than sound of organs and of jubilant anthems in the temple-naves. In the pure waters of the spring, which gushed up hard by, might sometimes be seen a wild little picture, the image of Morning-Glory—her face stained with berries, her hair stuck full of the feathers of gay birds, and her waist wound around with a cincture of flowers. She was already skillful in the use of the bow and in casting a small javelin; she was no longer swung upon her mother's back, nay, in case of danger and attack, Morning-Glory might have been an efficient auxiliary, because she could direct a deadly arrow, and did not know the sentiment of
