But how much more efficient the law which the Great Spirit had impressed upon the Indian's heart—_to do unto others as he would be done by_. When one of Judge Brown's children was just learning to walk, its mother happened to express a regret that she could not get a pair of shoes to support its first efforts. Logan, who stood by, overheard the remark, but apparently paid no attention to it, although he had determined in his own mind that the want of shoes should not hinder the little girl in her first attempts. Two or three days passed, and the remark had been forgotten by all save the chieftain, when, happening into their house, he asked the mother if she would allow the child to go with him, and spend the day at his cabin. Mrs. B. could not divine the reason of such a request, and all her suspicions were aroused at the idea of placing her little cherub in the hands of one whose objects she could not understand. The proposition alarmed her, and, without giving a decided negative, she hesitated to comply. The matter was left to her husband, who urged her to consent, representing the delicacy of Logan's feelings, his sensitiveness, and his character for truth and plain dealing. With much reluctance, but with apparent cheerfulness, the mother at length complied, although her heart was filled with forebodings, as she saw her little one disappear in the woods in the arms of the chieftain. Slowly passed the sad hours away, and the poor mother could do nothing but think of her absent one, in the hands of a savage warrior, the natural enemy of the pale-face. As the day drew to a close, she took her station at the window, and watched with the most intense solicitude for the return of her child; but hour after hour passed away without bringing any relief to her anxious heart. A thousand vague fears and conjectures filled her mind with the many tales of Indian barbarity and treachery which she had heard, and as the shades of evening drew around the landscape, and her little one had not returned, she felt that to hear of her death at the hands of the chief would be a relief to her overwrought brain. Her husband endeavored to calm her agitated feelings, and soothe her into confidence in the integrity of Logan—but with little effect; and it is probable that her apprehensions would have driven her to go to the cabin of the Indian in search of her child. Just after the sun went down, however, he made his appearance in the dim twilight, bearing the little treasure in his arms, who seemed delighted with her conductor for her arms were thrown about his neck as he bore her along with firm and rapid steps to her home. The mother's heart leaped with joy as she recognized the persons of the chief and the child. She sprung from her chair, where she had passed so many anxious moments, and prepared to receive the little one, around whom had been concentrated all her maternal feelings that tiresome, lonely, and weary day. A few brief