said my
informant, "dare show himself in this country again! Not an Indian who
knows the Day-kau-rays but would take his life if he should meet him!"

Every tie was broken for poor Agathe but that which bound her to her
infant. She never returned to her father's lodge, for she felt that,
being deserted, she was dishonored. Her sole ambition seemed to be to
bring up her child like those of the whites. She attired it in the
costume of the French children, with a dress of bright calico, and a cap
of the same, trimmed with narrow black lace. It was a fine child, and
the only time I ever saw a smile cross her face was when it was
commended and caressed by some member of our family.

Even this, her only source of happiness, poor Agathe was called upon to
resign. During our absence at Green Bay, while the Sauks were in the
neighborhood, the child was taken violently ill. The house at
Paquette's, which was the mother's home, was thronged with Indians, and
of course there was much noise and disturbance. My husband had a place
prepared for her under our roof, where she could be more quiet, and
receive the attendance of the post physician. It was all in
vain--nothing could save the little creature's life. The bitter agony of
the mother, as she hung over the only treasure she possessed on earth,
was described to me as truly heart-rending. When compelled to part with
it, it seemed almost more than nature could bear. There were friends,
not of her own nation or color, who strove to comfort her. Did the
father ever send a thought or an inquiry after the fate of his child, or
of the young being whose life he had rendered dark and desolate? We will
hope that he did--that he repented and asked pardon from above for the
evil he had wrought.

Agathe had been baptized by M. Mazzuchelli. Perhaps she may have
acquired some religious knowledge which could bring her consolation in
her sorrows, and compensate her for the hopes and joys so early blasted.

She came, some months after the death of her child, in company with
several of the half-breed women of the neighborhood, to pay me a visit
of respect and congratulation on the advent of the _young
Shaw-nee-aw-kee._ When she looked at her "little brother," as he was
called, and took his soft, tiny hand within her own, the tears stood in
her eyes, and she spoke some little words of tenderness, which showed
that her heart was full. I could scarcely refrain from mingling my tears
with hers, as I