Sunflower was tall and graceful. She had very black, soft, languishing eyes—marked, yet delicate eyebrows. Her nose, like that of her tribe, was Roman, but more delicately marked than that of the men, her teeth were white and even, her mouth small, and her hair glossy as the raven’s wing, and darker than the squirrel’s fur. The full and massive club into which it was tastefully rolled and placed behind the back of her neck, proved its fullness and redundance. She was elegantly formed. She had never been a mother, and her nut-brown bosom had all the roundness of contour of a Venus, and the smoothness of the Parian marble. Her hands and feet, like those of all her race, were small, and yet there was a development of her whole person that set all art to improve it at defiance. Late at night she always bathed in the sweet waters of the stream, and on its low banks combed the long and luxuriant hair that overshadowed her person, and with the chewed root of the grape-vine, added fragrance to her breath, even while she increased the dazzling whiteness of the teeth she rubbed with it. To crown all the fascinations of this Indian wife—this favored daughter of a race in which the interesting and the beautiful are so rarely found, she had a voice whose every note was laughing music. There was one in that camp, and of that tribe, who saw the happiness of White Bear, not with envy, for his nature was too generous for so low a passion, but with regret that destiny had not given to him the beautiful, the enchanting Sunflower. He was consumed with the most ardent love. He lived only in and for her—hung upon her look, fed upon her glance, and yet he had never spoken to her. His soul melted away with love for her. To look at her alone was enjoyment the greatest he could taste. The chase was deserted, his very flute, in which he excelled, and on which he often played to the great delight of the admiring Indian girls, was neglected. Not so his dress. No young Saukie bestowed more pains in decorating his person than did the tall and gracefully formed Wawandah, and this not from any foolish love of display, as because he wished to appear favorably in her eyes, should she ever be induced to regard him. The savage equally with the civilized, tries to win a woman as much by dress as by address. But in vain Wawandah courted his toilet. The vermilion was applied to his cheek and lips without the desired result—the Sunflower never once caught his eye, or if she did, she was too much engaged in thinking of the White Bear, to be conscious that any other of her tribe sought to win her attention.