out its hands for its mother's breast; it longs to taste the sweet draughts of milk. Ah! Accomba, my sister, my partner, why did cruel Michel come and take you from my side?" Another cry of sorrow was heard from Sarcelle, the brother of Accomba, that same night, and on the day following. The poor fellow was half distracted at the loss of his sister, more especially as she seemed to have anticipated her fate, and to have prepared her friends for it. Sarcelle's first impulse was to seize his gun and launch his canoe, and to sally forth in pursuit of Michel; but he was a Christian Indian, having been baptized at the little English Church at Fort Simpson, and further instructed at the Mission School. The conflict going on in his own mind between the desire to avenge his sister's death, and the higher impulses which his Christian faith suggested, were very touching. It ended in his throwing down his gun, and bowing his head on his hands while he sobbed aloud, "My sister, my sister, I would fight for you; I would avenge your cruel death, but the Praying man says we must forgive as God forgives us. I throw down my gun; I listen to the Good Spirit speaking to my heart; but oh, it is hard, it is hard, my sister, I can see no light in this; I feel unmanly to let _him_ go free, who shot my sister to the heart, who made her shed tears, and did not comfort her; who made her the mother of his children, and left them all so pitiful, with the little one lying helpless upon the river side, and only the dogs to guard her. I feel unmanly, unworthy of a 'Tene Jua,' but 'Niotsi N Dethe' make it plain to me; oh, make me see how I can be a _true man_, and yet forgive!" * * * * * It was but a few weeks after Minneha had received the rescued infant, and promised to be a mother to it, that she discovered that she had undertaken more than she was able to fulfil. It required no very searching eye to perceive that the little one was not thriving; in truth, she was dwindling away day by day, and those who were in the habit of visiting the Camp gazed sadly at the little pinched face and shrivelled limbs, and foreboded that it would not be long before Michel's child rejoined its mother in the 'silent land.' "Owindia" was the name given by the Indians to their deceased sister's child; and in truth, Owindia, "weeping one," was well suited to the frail creature who since that terrible night was continually uttering a feeble moan unlike an ordinary infant's cry, but which appealed to all hearts by its thrilling tones.