e has drugs, more bitter far,
That must be drained.~

That solitary wigwam, in the outskirts of the village, was the home of
Kaf-ne-wah-go, an aged Chippeway warrior, who had weathered the storms,
and outlived the wars, of three score and ten seasons, and was yet as
fiery in the chase, and as mighty and terrible in battle, as any of the
young chiefs of his tribe. His voice in the council was, like the solemn
tones of an oracle, listened to with a reverence approaching to awe, and
never disregarded. His sons all inherited the spirit of their father,
and distinguished themselves among the braves in fight, and the sages in
council. Three of them fell in battle. One was principal chief of the
western division of the Chippeway family. Another, the brave
Ish-ta-le-o-wah, occupied the first in that group of wigwams in yonder
grove, about a hundred yards from his father's.

The only daughter of the good old sachem, the child of his old age, and
"the light of his eyes," was the fairest and loveliest wild-flower, that
ever sprung up amid the interminable wildernesses of the Western World.
Tula, the singing bird, was distinguished among the daughters of the
forest, not only for those qualities of person and character which are
recognized as graces among the Indians, but for some of those peculiar
refinements of feeling and manner, which are supposed to be the
exclusive product of a civilized state of society. She was remarkable
for the depth and tenderness of her affection, and for her ingenuity,
industry and taste. Her dress, and those of her father and brother,
exhibited the traces of her delicate handiwork; while the neat and
tasteful arrangement of the humble cabin, superior in all that makes
home comfortable and pleasant to any in the village, bore testimony to
her industry and skill.

Tula had many suitors. There was scarce a young brave in the tribe who
did not seek or desire her. But O-ken-ah-ga, the only son of their great
chief, won her heart. She became his bride, but she remained, with him
and their first-born child, in the tent of her aged parents, who could
not live, as they said, "when the singing bird, the light of their eyes
was gone."

* * * * *

It was mid-summer. The night was still, clear, and lovely. All nature
seemed to breathe nothing but calmness and peace. But the heart of
man--how often and how sadly is it at variance with nature! The inmates
of that humble wigw