(_North American Indian_) Once a squirrel was being chased by an Indian, and in order to escape, the squirrel ran all the way up a tree into the sky. The Indian set a snare for the squirrel at the top of the tree and then came down, but he found the next day that the sun was caught in the snare, and this brought on night. He saw at once how much harm he had caused, and being an Indian of very good intentions he was anxious to do what he could to remedy the mischief. So he sent up great numbers of animals in the hope that they might cut the noose and release the sun, but the intense heat burned them all to ashes. At length the slow mole succeeded; he burrowed under the road in the sky till he reached the place of the sun, gnawed in twain the cords, and released the captive. But the sun’s flash put his eyes out and this is the reason why the mole is blind. The effect of the burning is still to be seen on the nose and the teeth of the mole, for they are brown as if burnt. From that time on, however, the gait of the sun has been more deliberate and slow. THE BOY AND THE WOLVES; OR, THE BROKEN PROMISE (_North American Indian_) In the depths of a solitary forest a hunter had built his lodge, for he was weary of the companionship of the people of his tribe; their habits of deceit and cruelty had turned his heart from them. With his family, his wife and three children, he had selected a home in the solitude of the forest. Years passed by while he peacefully enjoyed the quiet of his home, or the more attractive pleasures of the chase, in which he was joined by his eldest son. At length his peaceful enjoyments were interrupted: sickness entered the solitary lodge, and the hunter was prostrated upon his couch never more to rise. As death drew near, he addressed his family in these words: “You,” said he turning to his wife, “you, who have been the companion of my life, shall join me in the Isle of the Blessed. You have not long to suffer. But oh, my children!” and he turned his eyes affectionately upon them, “you have just commenced life; and, mark me, unkindness, ingratitude, and every wickedness is before you. I left my tribe and kindred to come to this unfrequented place, because of the evils of which I have just warned you. I have contented myself with the company of your mother and yourselves, for I was solicitous that you might be kept from bad example; and I shall die contented if you, my children, promise to cherish each other, and not to forsake your youngest brother.” Exhausted with speaking, the dying hunter closed his eyes for a few moments, and then, rousing himself with great effort, he took the hand of his two eldest children and said: “My daughter, never forsake your youngest brother. My son, never forsake your youngest brother.” “Never! never!” responded both; and the hunter sank back upon his pallet and soon expired.