* * * * * Old John loves to tell of another of his gods, the meteor; of this god they stand in great awe, calling him Waken-ne-ken-dah, or man of fire. He strides through the air to punish recreant Indians, who forget the claims of the Great Spirit upon them. Around this god is ever a circle of fire, while small meteors flow from this "great fiery man." In each hand he holds a war-club of bone, and every blow is fatal to that Sioux who deserves his condemnation. He is said to be very wily, attacking the Indians when they are asleep. On this account Sioux are often timid about sleeping out of doors; they have traditions of Indians having been carried off by these errant meteors. Old John thinks the "great fiery man" does not deserve a reputation for bravery, as he never attacks a waking foe. He says there was once a Sioux who, tired and sleepy, laid down, rolling himself in his blanket, though the weather was hot, for the musquitoes were biting him, and rendering it impossible that he should obtain any rest. The first thing of which he was conscious was the sensation of being whirled through the air, passing over miles of prairies and forests with the speed of light. All at once they approached a small pond, which was full of mallard duck. The appearance of the meteor threw the inhabitants of the lake into the greatest trepidation, and in consequence a most unearthly quacking took place. The fiery man not being aware of the cause of this commotion, never having seen a duck, dropped his affrighted burden, gladly making his way back to the regions of space. But it will be impossible to get anything more from Old John to-day: the savoury fumes of the kitchen have reached our sitting-room. He has done with the arts and with religion; he is enough of a philosopher to take the goods "the gods provide:" and the hearty dinner that he ate showed that the mystical attributes of a medicine-man did not prohibit him from the indulgence of his appetite; while the Sioux women were well repaid for their venison and their fright by some gaudy calico, for okendokendas, and a few needles, thread, and some other "notions," of great value among them. A REMONSTRANCE. BY ELIZA L. SPROAT. While the warm, sweet earth rejoices, And the forests, old and dim, Populous with little voices, Raise their trilling hymn,-- Chime _our_ notes in joyous pleading With the million-tonéd day; We are young, and Time is speeding-- Sweet Time, stay! We would hold the hasty hours, Ope them to the glowing core, Leaf by leaf, like folded flowers, Till they glow no more. We are mated with the Present, Bosom friends with dear To-day: Loving best the latest minute, Sweet Time, stay!