The following lines are a translation of a song heard among a troop of Chippewa children as they were playing at twilight around their dwellings, and the air was filled with myriads of fire-flies, which they were trying to catch. I have seen few prettier things among the children’s songs of any people. “Fire-fly, fire-fly, bright little thing, Light me to bed, and my song I will sing; Give me your light, as you fly o’er my head, That I may merrily go to my bed; Give me your light o’er the grass as you creep, That I may joyfully go to my sleep; Come little fire-fly—Come little beast— Come! and I’ll make you to-morrow a feast. Come, little candle, that flies as I sing, Bright little fairy bug,—night’s little king; Come, and I’ll dance as you guide me along, Come, and I’ll pay you my bug with a song.” In their legends there is often allusion to falling in love, in the way the same event takes place among other people. The following is obtained from a very authentic source, and certainly appears very natural:— A LOVE LEGEND. Iroquois. Over a deep gulf, not far from Canandaigua Lake, hangs a wild and fearful precipice, which has been known to the Indian as far back as tradition goes, by the name of “Lover’s Leap,” for here two lovers preferred to die together rather than live apart. When the Senecas and Algonquins were at war, a young Algonquin Chief was taken prisoner, and condemned to die. While in the “cabin of death,” to wait his doom, the youthful and beautiful daughter of the Sachem brought him food. He too was rich in all those manly gifts which an Indian maiden is taught to admire in warrior and in chieftain, and though her father’s enemy, she loved him, and resolved to save his life. Ere the morning watch, when the gray dawn was just stealing from behind the hill-tops, she stole with stealthy tread to the side of the noble captive, and cutting the thongs which bound him, bade him in breathless accents to follow her. The sentinel, weary with his night-watchings, had fallen asleep, but ere they had descended the winding pathway which led to the lake on whose gentle bosom they had hoped to rest, the shrill war-whoop fell on their ears and they knew they were pursued. Like the fawn or the squirrel they bounded through the thick woods and down the steeps to the border of the lake, where the light canoe awaited them, and plied the dashing paddles with the desperate energy of those who row for life. But it was in vain; nearer came the terrific yell and then the splashing of a dozen oars, and as many savage warriors swiftly gliding over the waters in full view of the fugitives.