"No one who had ever seen that Indian youth could possibly make an error. I never looked upon such comely features or such a graceful form, nor did I ever listen to so musical a voice. Like a person in a dream, I felt no special surprise at seeing before me a person who had died years before.

"I studied him from head to foot. One of the first things I noticed was that the stained eagle feathers, which he always used to wear in his hair, were not there, nor did he have his knife at his girdle nor was his rifle in his hand. I don't suppose they have need of such things in heaven.

"During this talk between Deerfoot and my father I did not speak or rise to my feet. I expected the Shawanoe to say something to me and I had no wish to break in upon the talk. They spent ten or fifteen minutes thus, and then Deerfoot took the hand of my father, pressed it warmly and turned to go. As he did so, he seemed for the first time to see me. He stopped, looked down, smiled and uttered my name. Then he checked himself, walked to the corner of the lodge, drew aside the buffalo robe which served as a door and passed out into the night.

"My father stood for a minute looking after him, and then, with a glowing face, turned to me:

"'Did you see him?'

"'I did, and heard his voice.'

"'You lost nothing of what he said to me?'

"'Not a word.'

"'Tell them to no one. Now sleep.'

"It was a long time before I closed my eyes, and when I did so the wonderful words that had fallen from the lips of Deerfoot were in my ears. To me the strangest part of this strange experience is that which followed. When morning came I found I could not remember a syllable that the Shawanoe had said. I spoke to my father, and he talked of the visit of Deerfoot as he would have talked of the visit of one of our own Blackfeet. I told him I had forgotten the Shawanoe's words and asked him to tell them to me again. He replied that God did not wish me to remember them and he denied my request, which I respected him too much ever to repeat.

"Chief Taggarak lived several years longer. I have tried many times to recall the words spoken by Deerfoot when he visited my father, but I have never succeeded in bringing back a single one of them."

[THE END.]

Footnotes

¹ On the gently sloping side of a low mountain near the Colorado-Wyoming line can be plainly seen a circular path of about two hundred feet in diameter. The road connecting the Rambler copper mines with Laramie passes within ten miles of the place. When the curious observer climbs to the spot, whose path shows distinctly from a distance, he cannot detect a sign of the mystic circle. Various theories have been offered in explanation of this phenomenon, but as yet none has proved satisfactory.

² Statement of Ap-pa-pa-alk, a member of the Blackfoot tribe, given to Rev. J. Y. Dilworthy, missionary, on the 21st of October, 1869.

THE

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EDWARD S. ELLIS

Edward S. Ellis, the popular writer of boys' books, is a native of Ohio, where he was born somewhat more than a half-century ago. His father was a famous hunter and rifle shot, and it was doubtless his exploits and those of his associates, with their tales of adventure which gave the son his taste for the breezy backwoods and for depicting the stirring life of the early settlers on the frontier.

Mr. Ellis began writing at an early age and his work was acceptable from the first. His parents removed to New Jersey while he was a boy and he was graduated from the State Normal School and became a member of the faculty while still in his teens. He was afterward principal of the Trenton High School, a trustee and then superintendent of schools. By that time his services as a writer had become so pronounced that he gave his entire attention to literature. He was an exceptionally successful teacher and wrote a number of text-books for schools, all of which met with high favor. For these and his historical productions, Princeton College conferred upon him the degree of Master of Arts.

The high moral character, the clean, manly tendencies and the admirable literary style of Mr. Ellis' stories have made him as popular on the other side of the Atlantic as in this country. A leading paper remarked some time since, that no mother need hesitate to place in the hands of her boy any book written by Mr. Ellis. They are found in the leading Sunday-school libraries, where, as may well be believed, they are in wide demand and do much good by their sound, wholesome lessons which render them as acceptable to parents as to their children. Nearly all of the Ellis books published by The John C. Winston Company are reissued in London, and many have been translated into other languages. Mr. Ellis is a writer of varied accomplishments, and, in addition to his stories, is the author of historical works, of a number of pieces of popular music, and has made several valuable inventions. Mr. Ellis is in the prime of his mental and physical powers, and great as have been the merits of his past achievements, there is reason to look for more brilliant productions from his pen in the near future.

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SONGS AND STORIES FROM TENNESSEE

In truth Mr. Moore, in this collection of songs and stories of Dixie Land, has created a work that will live long in the traditions of the South and longer in the hearts of his readers. One has only to read "Ole Mistis," the first story in this collection, to feel the power of Mr. Moore's genius. It is at once the finest story of a horse race ever written, a powerful love story and most touchingly pathetic narrative of the faith and devotion of a little slave.

THE OLD COTTON GIN

The "Old Cotton Gin" breathes the passionate patriotism of the South, her dearest sentiments, her pathos and regrets, her splendid progress and her triumphant future. This poem is a popular favorite throughout the South, and has been adopted officially in some states. The author is one of her truest sons. All the pages of the book are decorated with original drawings, including seven exceedingly fine full-page illustrations.

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