the spells that were exerted
against him. Sacred Wind bore everything in patience but the sight of
the Bear. She had been bought and sold, over and over again; and the
fear of her killing herself was the only reason why her friends did not
force her to marry.

One evening she was missing, and the cries of her mother broke upon the
silence of night; canoes were flying across the water; friends were
wandering in the woods, all seeking the body of the girl.

But she was not to be found in the river, or in the woods. Sacred Wind
was not dead, she was only married.

She was safe in the next village, telling the Shield how much she loved
him, and how cordially she hated the Bear; and although she trembled
when she spoke of the medicine men, her husband only laughed at her
fears, telling her, that now that she was his wife, she need
fear nothing.

But where was the Swan? Her friends were assisting, in the search for
Sacred Wind. The father had forgotten his child, the brother his sister.
And the mother, who would have first missed her, had gone long ago, to
the land of spirits.

The Swan had known of the flight of the lovers--she watched them as
their canoe passed away, until it became a speck in the distance, and in
another moment the waters closed over her.

Thus were strangely blended marriage and death. The Swan feared not to
take her own life. Sacred Wind, with a nobler courage, a more devoted
love, broke through the customs of her nation, laid aside the
superstitions of the tribe, and has thus identified her courage with the
name of her native village.

"THE DAHCOTAH BRIDE."

The valley of the Upper Mississippi presents many attractions to the
reflecting mind, apart from the admiration excited by its natural
beauty. It is at once an old country and a new--the home of a people who
are rapidly passing away--and of a nation whose strength is ever
advancing. The white man treads upon the footsteps of the Dahcotah--the
war dance of the warrior gives place to the march of civilization--and
the saw-mill is heard where but a few years ago were sung the deeds of
the Dahcotah braves.

Years ago, the Dahcotah hunted where the Mississippi takes its rise--the
tribe claiming the country as far south as St. Louis. But difficulties
with the neighboring tribes have diminished their numbers and driven
them farther north and west; the white people have needed their lands,
and their course is onward. How will it end? Will