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 sorrōw,
"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,
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 crevice 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 ǎrrōws,

1 Sewed (sod).— Som' ber, gloomy; dusky.- Fissure (fish yer). crack; split; opening.—1 Crêv'ice, crack; opening.

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

From the ground the quills he gǎther'd,
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 supple 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.

NOT many generations' 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 splên' dent, shining with brilliant luster; bright.-2 Sůp' ple, pliant; flexible; easily bent.- Gen er å' tion, the people living at the same time; an age. Em bêl' lish es, adorns; makes beautiful by or naments.- Wig' wam, an Indian hut, or cabin.

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 Ichild 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 whole, 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

1 Sedgy (sej' y), overgrown with a narrow flag or coarse grass, called sedge. U' ni verse, the whole system of created things.- Fil' grim, a wanderer; a traveler who has a religious object. Usurped (yû zêrpt'), taken, and retained that which does not belong to us.—5 Pro ġên' i tors, forefathers. Falcon (få' 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.

the pathetic tale, is gone! and his degraded offspring crawls upon the soil, where he walked in majesty, to remind us how miserable is man, when the foot of the conqueror is on his neck.

7. As a race, they have withered from the land. Their ǎrrows are broken, their springs are dried up, their cabins are in the dust. Their council-fire has long since gone out on the shore, and their war-cry is fast fading to the untrodden west. Slowly and sadly they climb the distant mountains, and read their doom in the setting sun. They are shrinking before the mighty tide which is pressing them away; they must soon hear the roar of the last wave, which will settle over them forever.

8. Ages hence, the inquisitive' white man, as he stands by some growing city, will ponder' on the structure of their disturbed remains, and wonder to what manner of persons they belonged. They will live only in the songs and chronicles of their exterminators. Let these be faithful to their rude virtues, as men, and pay due tribute to their unhappy fate, as a people. SPRAGUE.

92. THEY ARE PASSING AWAY.

1. HEY are passing away, they are passing away—

THEY

The joy from our hearts, and the light from our day,
The hope that beguiled us when sorrōw was near,
The loved one that dash'd from our eyelids the tear,
The friendships that held o'er our bosoms their
They are passing away, they are passing away.

2. They are passing away, they are passing away—
The cares and the strifes of life's turbulent day,
The waves of despair that roll'd over our soul,
The passions that bow'd not to reason's control,

sway;

'In quis' i tive, asking many questions; inquiring.--2 Pôn' der, think d ply; consider carefully; to weigh in the mind.—3 Chronicles (krôn'efz), stories of the time; histories of events in the order of time in which they occur.- - Ex ter' min a tors, destroyers; those who root out, or destroy utterly." Påss' ing. Be gulled', amused; caused to pass pleasantly. Turbulent (ter' bu lent), noisy; making disturbance.De spåir', hopelessness; loss of hope in the mercy of God.

The dark clouds that shrouded religion's kind ray;
They are passing away, they are passing away.

3. Let them
go, let them pass, bōth the sunshine and shower,
The joys that yet cheer us, the storms that yet lower:'
When their gloom and their light have all faded and past,
There's a home that around us its blessing shall cast,
Where the heart-broken pilgrim no longer shall say,
"We are passing away, we are passing away."

R. M. CARLTON.

THEY

93. RURAL LIFE IN SWEDEN.

ПHERE is something patriarchal still lingering about rural3 life in Sweden, which renders it a fit theme for song. Almost primeval' simplicity reigns over that northern land,almost primeval solitude and stillness. You pass out from the gate of the city, and, as if by magic, the scene chānges to a wild, woodland landscape. Around you are forests of fir. Overhead hang the long, fan-like branches, trailing with moss, and heavy with red and blue cones. Under foot is a carpet of yěllow leaves; and the air is warm and balmy.

2. On a wooden bridge you cross a little silver stream, and anon come forth into a pleasant and sunny land of farms. Wooden fences divide the adjoining fields. Across the road are gates, which are opened by troops of children. The peasants take off their hats as you pass., You sneeze, and they cry, "God bless you." The houses in the villages and smaller towns are all built of hewn timber, and for the most part painted red. The floors of the taverns are strown with the fragrant tips of fir boughs.

3. In many villages there are no taverns, and the peasants take turns in receiving travelers. The thrifty housewife shows

8

'Lower (lou' er), frown; appear dark, gloomy, and threatening.— * Patriarchal (pa tre årk' al), like the father of a family; ancient.-3 Rural (rð' ral), relating to the country.—* Pri mẻ' val, belonging to the earliest times; original.- Cones, bodies diminishing to a point; the fruit of the pine, fir, etc., that is shaped like a cone. A non', suddenly; immediately.