“My child, I will not say that among the cities and settlements of the white men, there are many who would gain by comparison with Reginald Brandon; for not only has he the accidental advantages of fine features, and a form singularly graceful and athletic, but he seems to me to possess the far higher and rarer qualities of a modest, generous mind, and an honest heart: nevertheless, my child, I will pray you, even in respect to him, not to forget what I have told you regarding the general infirmity and waywardness of our nature; keep a watch on your eyes and on your heart, and Providence will rule all for the best:—we will speak no more on this subject now; let us take some food from the basket on your table.” Prairie–bird spread the simple meal in thoughtful silence, and when the missionary had asked a blessing on it, they sat down together. After a pause of some minutes she communicated to him her anxiety on account of the hints dropped by Wingenund respecting the suspected treachery of some of their Osage allies, and the circumstance of a hostile trail having been discovered near the encampment. “It is too true,” replied the missionary gravely, “there are signs of approaching strife; and even that boy, whom I have so long endeavoured to instruct and lead aright, his blood is beginning to boil. I fear it is almost as hard for an Indian to change his nature as an Ethiopian his skin. He has told you the truth, and we must be prepared for approaching trouble.” After musing for a few moments, Paul Müller, fixing his eye on Prairie–bird, continued: “Do you know any cause of quarrel between the Osage and Lenapé chiefs?” “None,” replied the maiden in unaffected surprise. “How should I know? I go not near their council–fire.” “True,” said the missionary; “but your eyes are not often shut in broad day. Have you spoken to Mahéga of late? have you observed him?” “He has spoken to me more than once, and often meets me on my return from any far lodge in the village. I do not like him; he is fierce and bad, and he beats his young squaw, Wetopa.” “You are right, my child; avoid him; there is evil in that man; but if you meet him, do not show any dislike or suspicion of him; you would only kindle strife: you are among faithful and watchful friends; and if they were all to slumber and sleep, you have a Friend above, whose eye is never closed, and whose faithfulness is everlasting. Farewell, my child. I must converse awhile with Tamenund. Do you solace an hour with your guitar; it will put your unquiet thoughts to rest.” Prairie–bird was so accustomed to pay implicit obedience to the slightest wishes and suggestions of her beloved preceptor, that as he left the tent she mechanically took up the guitar, and passed her fingers through the strings. By degrees the soul of music within her was stirred, and ere long vented itself in the following hymn.