While the chiefs of the valley tribes of Indians were entertained in the city, one from the Vermejo petitioned the prætor for permission to settle with his tribe on the vega of the lake expanse of the Boetis below the temple grove. This petition awakened a pleasing smile in the expression of the prætor’s face, who, without consulting his associates, requested his daughter to proffer his fealty to the united chiefs and their tribes of the valleys, in behalf of the citizens of Heraclea, with the hope that they would trustfully extend their permission for the continued occupation of lands alienated by the cruel oppressions of their ancestors of old Heraclea. When, with some difficulty, Correliana was able to make them understand the nature of this request, they pondered, and looked upon each other in bewildered silence. At length, one of the oldest Betongese chiefs, “saw the approaching ends of the long severed thread of unity that had caused the siege of hatred, and the concession offered by the prætor for uniting it with the durable bonds of privileged equality.” His explanation was received by his compadric chiefs with smiling assent, assured that it was for mutual behoofment. With united sanction, evidences of mutual understanding were passed in tokens of goodwill, until the rays of the sun, in decline, were cast aslant from the brink of the precipice of the falls, covering with its bright canopy the shadows that enveloped the city beneath, then in strengthened concord the pæan hymn of thanksgiving rose in unison from every Heraclean threshold, and after it a responsive refrain repeated in swelling harmony from group to group. Of its import M. Hollydorf gave the following rendition,— “Neighbors good-night, good-night; A day of right, Without a wrong, Hallows our evening song.”