rget their task.

"What is the matter, my little Ellen?" she said, as the child ran to
hide her face in her lap.

"An Indian, mamma! An Indian, coming out of the wood!"

At these words Emily springs up; she will ever love the red man for the
sake of those who nourished her childhood, and never will a son of the
forest be sent away uncheered from her door. But times have greatly
changed since her father built the neighboring cottage: seldom now does
the Indian visit that comparatively thickly settled spot; his course is
still westward, and ever onward, with the setting sun. When Emily
emerged from the thickly shaded porch, she saw indeed a red man approach
from the forest; he was old, but his majestic figure was still erect,
his eye bright and piercing; black eagle plumes adorned his stately
head--it was Towandahoc!

He was soon clasped in the embrace of his long-lost Water-Lily, and
Indian though he was, the old man wept over his recovered darling. He
told her how Ponawtan had returned by nightfall, to find her daughter
gone, and the village in ashes: their own wigwam had caught fire from
the flying cinders, and was entirely consumed. She had lingered around
the spot of her former happiness till his return; after a little time,
as they could hear no news of Orikama, they had removed far away from
the scene of desolation, to the valley of the Mohawk. Grief for the loss
of her daughter had injured the health of Ponawtan, although time had
now somewhat reconciled her to it: but Towandahoc said that the Wild
Rose was drooping, that her leaves were withered, and her flowers
falling one by one; and much he feared that another winter would lay her
low in the dust.

When little Ellen understood that this was the dear Indian grandpa of
whom she had so often heard, her shyness passed away, and soon she drew
near to the aged hunter, handling his bow and arrows, and even presuming
to climb up and scrutinize the feathers, that were at once her
admiration and her dread. The old man took her upon his knee, and was
showing her his bow, when Roland returned home; he eagerly seconded his
wife's persuasions, to induce Towandahoc to remain with them for some
time, and then to return for Ponawtan, that both might pass the remnant
of their days within their daughter's dwelling. But the aged hunter
shook his head:

"It cannot be," he said; "the Great Spirit has made the pale faces to
dwell in houses, to plough the fields, and to listen