When all Was still beneath the stars, she left Her blanket couch, high-heaped on leaves, And let the prisoner free. Under An old oak tree they said farewell, Not without Minnepazuka's Protestations, who plead as thus:

"Oh, come with me, and be my bride; My home is on the prairies wide, Where West sweeps westward, in its pride, To mount the heights of mountain side; Where yellow glows the sunflower's gold, And earth rolls rich in mellow mold; Where cactus bloom and roses blush, And rivers sweep through greensward lush; Where deer and antelope and bear Abound as free as sunlit air; Where buffalo and cayote dwell And perch and trout the clear brook swell.

Oh, come; oh, come, and live with me-- To serve thee I shall happy be.

I'll pluck thee bed of down of swan; Thy cares make light as foot of fawn; I'll build canoe of birch-wood bark To cradle thee, my Singing Lark.

I'll rob the white bear for thy frock; I'll bring thee paint from red of rock; I'll note the honey-bee in its flight-- Gather its sweets by bright moonlight.

I'll coax the fishes from the wave; Thy slightest wish shall bind me slave; My arrow true its bow will fly To draw abundance from the sky; The heavens shall tremble at my voice And thy dear heart rejoice, rejoice.

Oh, fly with me, these arms to bless; Rest, rest, my little love, on my breast."

"It cannot be, my beaming-eyed, Until our people are allied.

My father's step is growing slow, No other child hath he. The snow Upon his head would pile did I But go with thee. I beg thee fly."

"No claim so binding is as love-- Oh, come, oh, come, my nestling dove-- Thy hands have set me free. And all The blame of my escape will fall On thee. Thy father will disown Thee; the children cruel will stone Thee, and----"

"And I will think of thee."

"Leave thee alone to bear such wrongs!

Oh, no. Upon my wrists bind back The thongs. I will not freedom take.

'Twere better far than price like this To perish at the stake. Bind back The thongs."

"Thou wouldst spare me pain? Then, Go. Each tiny, lapping flame of fire That fed its tongue on thee, would scorch The life-blood in my heart until Upon the funeral pyre, I'd throw My worthless self. I beg thee go."

"Alas! Thy heart is cold to me."

"Nay, nay, not so; it all is thine.

I give it in this kiss. 'Twill sing To thee from throat of bird; it will Echo on the wind; it will Caress thee from the dew;--'tis all I have; it is thine. Farewell."

"Gentle One, thou givest me life, To take it from me. Thou lily heart, Thou art my own, my other self: Thy G.o.d declares it unto thee, And mine to me."

"And over all Is the Great Spirit. Farewell."

"Thou wilt not go?"

"Farewell."

"Farewell."

Sad fate, by human standard judged, The Indian maiden brought upon Herself. Given to eat with dogs, Clothed in rags, disgraced, driven from Her father's door, the power of love Sustained her. Magic Power, Great Architect, Superb Chemist Love!

The heart that entertains thee Grows lofty in spirit gentleness, E'en tho' thou deignst to make it but Thy workshop. So Janishkisgan Knew thee. Fearing only to prove Unworthy of her august guest, She walked in the midst of scorn, Contempt, contumely, sneers and stern Displeasure, with that forbearance And kindly dignity, which re-won Her friends, despite themselves; so that At last they gave her pitying peace, And listened with their heart-strings tuned To life's better part, while she sang Her farewell song, each eve beneath The tree.

After a time the plague Broke out and lamentations rose On every hand. Old women made Their teas and plied their healing arts; The Great Medicine Men implored Gezha Manitou's aid, and all The vibrant air was resonant With invoking incantations.-- Death marched on. Then Janishkisgan Bethought her of her lover's cure; Gathered the balsam root and mixed Therefrom the potent draught, as he Had taught her. Great Medicine It was, that brought the glow of health Into the faded, hollow cheeks, And all the people blessed the maid; Called her, "Mahnusatia," which means The balm that heals. Surrounded by The dread disease, she came and went Unscathed, as if by unseen hands Protected. Where her gentle tones Were heard or where her light step fell, It was as if an angel pa.s.sed.-- Wan faces smiled, and hearts felt hope, And trembling lips found voice to cry: "Mahnusatia! Mahnusatia!"

Thus in love was she renamed.

Reinstated and reintrenched Deeper then ever in hearts which Had once renounced her, still she lived As one apart. The seasons came And pa.s.sed, and as they did, the tribe Changed camp, from place to place, with each Recurring Autumn to return To Wey-do-dosh-she-ma-de-nog; But "Mahnusatia" never left The silent village. There she kept Her vigil, night by night, under The old oak tree. Her form became Wasted; her eyes l.u.s.trous; her limbs Grew to tremble, but her voice was Sweeter, as on each even's breeze, In rain or shine, in storm or calm, Was heard her fond farewell. Her life's Last breath was spent in that farewell.

Her body lay under the oak, whose Spreading branches caught up the sad Refrain, "Farewell, farewell," and gave It back again each eventide.

Her spirit lived in a thousand Tongues, for where the Chippeway saw The balsam tree, he turned his face Toward Wey-do-dosh-she-ma-de-nog, As Mahometan to Mecca, and Cried out in reverential tones, "Mahnusatia! Mahnusatia!"

It lives to-day, mere chance of fate, Perchance, a monument of fame, Than which nor time, nor nation, nor People have ever better built; A monument of State, that rears Its regal, star-crowned head above Its sisters', in the grandest, most Glorious Union, which the world Has ever known.

Yet who shall say, Who hath not infinite knowledge, It is but fortune's accident That honors such fidelity?

Who, rather, shall not concede, that, Down the path of time, a fitness,

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE RIVER LAKE.]

Everlasting, perpetuates That sweet, sweet Indian name, which, in n.o.bler accents, English spoken, Echoes the wide, wide world around: "Minnesota! Minnesota!"

MRS. FANNIE L. STONE.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The Descending Star.

(A CHIPPEWA LEGEND.)

The Chieftain sat in his wigwam door And smoked his evening pipe, While a crowd of Indian boys and girls, Knowing his wisdom ripe, Were begging him to a story tell, For votive offering brought, The tobacco loved by the aged sage; So he told the tale they sought.

"There was once a time when the world was filled With a people happy," he said: "The crimson tide of war rolled not, Nor against each other led, Each rival tribe their warriors brave: For the nations were as one, The frightful scourge that has wasted us Had, happily, not begun.

"With game in plenty forest and plain Abounded. None were in want And ghastly famine never touched The tribes with its finger gaunt.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CARVER'S CAVE.]

At the bidding of man the beasts of the field All meekly went and came; For they feared him not, nor reason had, But all were harmless and tame.

"Unending spring for winter's blasts And chills gave never a place; Each tree and bush bowed low with fruit So they needed not the chase.

A carpet of flowers covered the earth, While the air with their perfume Was laden. The songs of mated birds Rose ever in sweetest tune.

"The earth was indeed a paradise, And man was worthy to live 'Mong these delights in tranquil peace That merit alone can give.

The Indians--sole possession then-- Roamed here and there at will, O'er plains and lakes and wilderness-- Ah, that it were so still!

"They numbered millions, as nature designed, Enjoying her many gifts.

The sports of the field were their delight; Such life the soul uplifts.

They watched the stars with loving gaze, And thought that they must be The homes of the good, with the Great Spirit In the heavens roaming free.

"One night a star shone strangely bright, Out-shining all the rest.

At first they deemed it far away, Its nearness never guessed.

Then some declared they believed it stood Just over the tree-tops tall.

To solve the doubt a council of The wisest men they call.

"These went one night and found the star Was something like a bird.

It hovered just above the trees-- They feared, for they had heard From their forefathers that it might A b.l.o.o.d.y war foretell, And over them a silent dread Of some disaster fell.

"One moon had waned--the mystery No one could solve or tell If the omen of their heavenly guest Foreboded ill or well: When a warrior had a wondrous dream, A lovely maiden came And stood by his side--in sweetest tones, She called him by his name.

"'I love your beautiful lakes,' said she, 'Your mountains clothed in green, In yonder sky, shining above, My sisters still are seen.