expectant mother. She wanders prayerful in the
stillness of great woods, or on the bosom of the untrodden prairie, and
to her poetic mind the immanent birth of her child prefigures the advent
of a master-man--a hero, or the mother of heroes--a thought conceived in
the virgin breast of primeval nature, and dreamed out in a hush that is
only broken by the sighing of the pine tree or the thrilling orchestra
of a distant waterfall.

And when the day of days in her life dawns--the day in which there is
to be a new life, the miracle of whose making has been intrusted to her,
she seeks no human aid. She has been trained and prepared in body and
mind for this her holiest duty, ever since she can remember. The ordeal
is best met alone, where no curious or pitying eyes embarrass her; where
all nature says to her spirit: "'Tis love! 'tis love! the fulfilling of
life!" When a sacred voice comes to her out of the silence, and a pair
of eyes open upon her in the wilderness, she knows with joy that she has
borne well her part in the great song of creation!

Presently she returns to the camp, carrying the mysterious, the holy,
the dearest bundle! She feels the endearing warmth of it and hears its
soft breathing. It is still a part of herself, since both are nourished
by the same mouthful, and no look of a lover could be sweeter than its
deep, trusting gaze.

She continues her spiritual teaching, at first silently--a mere pointing
of the index finger to nature; then in whispered songs, bird-like, at
morning and evening. To her and to the child the birds are real people,
who live very close to the "Great Mystery"; the murmuring trees breathe
His presence; the falling waters chant His praise.

If the child should chance to be fretful, the mother raises her hand.
"Hush! hush!" she cautions it tenderly, "the spirits may be disturbed!"
She bids it be still and listen--listen to the silver voice of the
aspen, or the clashing cymbals of the birch; and at night she points
to the heavenly, blazed trail, through nature's galaxy of splendor to
nature's God. Silence, love, reverence,--this is the trinity of first
lessons; and to these she later adds generosity, courage, and chastity.

In the old days, our mothers were single-eyed to the trust imposed upon
them; and as a noted chief of our people was wont to say: "Men may slay
one another, but they can never overcome the woman, for in the quietude
of her lap lies the child! You may destroy him