remained unobserved for a few moments; then he commanded Gray-Eagle to stand at a distance, and, silently approaching, stood before his wife. Confounded at his sudden presence, she rose up, and was deprived of speech. A sudden pallor diffused itself over her features, and she trembled like an aspen leaf in the breeze. The chief lifted her in his arms; he pressed her to his bosom; he kissed her cold brow again and again, and as he smoothed down her glossy locks with his hand, and spoke in the accents of tenderness, big tears rolled down his scarred and furrowed countenance. Nito-me-ma dropped her head upon his shoulder and wept, then beckoning to Morning-Glory, lightly and gracefully the child came leaping to her mother. Omaint-si-ar-nah burst into a loud yell of extreme delight. He caught her in his arms, adorned her neck with tinkling ornaments, and called her Dancing Fawn, and Rippling Rill, and Waving Feather, and all the endearing titles which he knew, but she said her name was Morning-Glory. She did not fear the warrior's savage aspect, and with her earliest speech she had been taught the name of father. Omaint-si-ar-nah beckoned to Gray-Eagle, who still kept aloof, and told him to approach. Then Nito-me-ma prepared a sumptuous entertainment for her guests; smoked meats, and cakes of Indian maize, and snow-white milk, and honey-comb, and dainties long laid up. Pleasantly the time passed in mutual narrative, and on the morrow they pre pared to hurry back to the deserted camp. Great was the joy of the whole tribe on the return of Gentle Dove and Morning-Glory. Three whole days were spent in rejoicing. Feasts were spread in profusion while the young amused themselves with dances and wrestling and ball-play, and the sports adapted to their age.
The second nuptials were never marred by bitterness or grief. Moon followed moon, and plenty blessed the tribe, which laid aside the hatchet as if a peaceful angel came into their midst. A Christian church now stands upon the spot where the poor pilgrim raised her cross within the hollow of the tree, and the sweet sound of Sunday chimes invites the worshippers of God. Omaint-si-ar-nah lost his savage nature, though he did not openly profess the faith of Christ; but when the evening of his days came on, and she who had been true to him till death slept with her fathers in the quiet grave, to children
