scanty, and showed a large portion of her taper
legs. She hastened to Nattee, and folding her arms across her breast,
stood still, saying meekly, "I am here."

"Know these as friends, Fleta. Send that lazy Num (this was Philotas,
the fool,) for more wood, and see that Jumbo tends the fire."

Nattee smiled, and left us. I observed she went to where forty or fifty
of the tribe were assembled, in earnest discourse. She took her seat
with them, and marked deference was paid to her. In the mean time Jumbo
had blown up a brisk fire; we were employed by Fleta in shredding
vegetables, which she threw into the boiling kettle. Num appeared with
more fuel, and at last there was nothing more to do. Fleta sat down by
us, and parting her long hair, which had fallen over her eyes, looked us
both in the face.

"Who gave you that name, Fleta?" inquired I.

"They gave it me," replied she.

"And who are they?"

"Nattee, and Melchior, her husband."

"But you are not their daughter?"

"No, I am not--that is, I believe not."

The little girl stopped short, as if assured that she had said too much,
cast her eyes down on the ground, and folded her arms, so that her hands
rested on each opposite shoulder.

Timothy whispered to me, "She must have been stolen, depend upon it."

"Silence," said I.

The little girl overheard him, and looking at him, put her finger across
her mouth, looking to where Num and Jumbo were sitting. I felt an
interest for this child before I had been an hour in her company; she
was so graceful, so feminine, so mournful in the expression of her
countenance. That she was under restraint was evident; but still she
did not appear to be actuated by fear. Nattee was very kind to her, and
the child did not seem to be more reserved towards her than to others;
her mournful, pensive look, was perhaps inherent to her nature. It was
not until long after our first acquaintance that I ever saw a smile upon
her features. Shortly after this little conversation, Nattee returned,
walking with all the grace and dignity of a queen. Her husband, or
Melchior, as I shall in future call him, soon joined us, and we sat down
to our repast, which was excellent. It was composed of almost
everything; sometimes I found myself busy with the wing of a fowl, at
another, the leg of a rabbit--then a piece of mutton, or other flesh and
fowl, which I could hardly distinguish. To these were added every sort
of vegetable, among w