A quarrel arose among the stars, when one of them was driven from its home in the heavens, and descended to the earth. It wandered from one path to another, and was seen hovering over the campfires when the people were preparing to sleep. Among all the people in the world, only one could be found who was not afraid of this star, and this was a daughter of a Chippewa. She was not afraid of the star, but admired and loved it. When she awoke in the night she always beheld it, for the star loved the maiden. In midsummer the young girl, on going into the woods for berries, lost her way, when a storm arose. Her cries for rescue were answered only by the frogs. A lonely night came, when she looked for her star in vain; the storm overcast the sky, and at length caught her in its fury and bore her away. Many seasons passed, during which the star was seen, dimmed and wandering, in the sky. At length, one autumn, it disappeared. Then a hunter saw a small light hanging over the water within the marshland in which he was hunting. He returned to announce the strange sight. “That,” said the old wise man, “was the star driven from heaven, now wandering in search of our lost maiden, our beautiful child of the Chippewas.” THE DAUGHTERS OF THE STARS (_North American Indian_) Waupee, or the White Hawk, lived in a remote part of the forest, where animals abounded. Every day he returned from the chase with a large spoil, for he was one of the most skilful and lucky hunters of his tribe. His form was like the cedar; the fire of youth beamed from his eye; there was no forest too gloomy for him to penetrate, and no track made by bird or beast of any kind which he could not readily follow. One day he had gone beyond any point which he had ever before visited. He travelled through an open wood, which enabled him to see a great distance. At length he beheld a light breaking through the foliage of the distant trees, which made him sure that he was on the borders of a prairie. It was a wide plain, covered with long blue grass, and enamelled with flowers of a thousand lovely tints. After walking for some time without a path, musing upon the open country, and enjoying the fragrant breeze, he suddenly came to a ring worn among the grass and the flowers, as if it had been made by footsteps moving lightly round and round. But it was strange—so strange as to cause the White Hawk to pause and gaze long and fixedly upon the ground—there was no path which led to this flowery circle. There was not even a crushed leaf nor a broken twig, nor the least trace of a footstep, approaching or retiring, to be found. He thought he would hide himself and lie in wait to discover, if he could, what this strange circle meant.