"The Bible says, 'Little children, love one another,'" urged Helen, speaking quickly; "now, mother, will you tell us a story?" Mrs. Dermott smilingly assented, and commenced. "Far, far away among the Rocky Mountains, many hundred miles beyond where the foot of the white man had ever trod, there once lived an Indian maiden, the daughter of a sachem. She married one of the young warriors of her tribe, and for many years followed him from one hunting field to another, her heart kept warm by her love for him and for her papooses. This is the Indian name for children, of which she had four. "At length her husband grew sick, and, according to the custom of the poor, deluded tribe, Nola presented offerings to their idols in his behalf. But, notwithstanding her sacrifices and her prayers, the warrior grew rapidly worse, and soon died. "Aola was now a widow, and had no one to draw the bow for her, except her eldest son. In a few months, he returned hurriedly from the chase to his mother's wigwam, and throwing himself upon his father's hunting robe, said, 'I am sick.' "'This time,' said Aola, 'I will surely appease the wrath of our gods.' "She deprived herself of many comforts to offer more costly sacrifices; but all in vain: her first-born soon breathed his last. "Before twelve moons had waxed and waned, two more dear ones, precious remembrances of her past joys, had sickened, and in spite of her agonizing prayers to the idols, had passed forever from her sight. "At length her sweet little Lola, who, in her repeated trials, had entwined herself closer and closer to her heart, grew wan and pale, like the others who had preceded it to the world of spirits. Aola, in her anguish, beat her breast. Suddenly she grew more calm, and, taking Lola in her arms, hastened to a huge pine tree near her wigwam. She seated herself on a little mound at the foot of the tree, and began to look into her own heart." [Illustration: "I will pray to the God of my Lola."] "'Aola,' she asked herself, 'where is the God who gave you your papoose?' "She gazed far into the deep, dark forest, then up toward the bright blue sky, and a voice whispered to her soul, 'I am God, who made the heavens and the earth. Plead your cause with me.' "With streaming eyes Aola replied, 'I will no longer bow down to the gods who would not hear my prayers. I will pray to the God of my Lola.' "She then laid her babe upon the soft grass at her feet, and prostrating herself upon her knees, with her lips touching the ground, her cries and her supplications ascended to the Most High. He heard her prayer; and when Aola returned to her wigwam, it was with a smile of hope upon her lip.