"Once more I ask, dost thou prefer to remain on earth? Rough and noisy though I be, yet will I not exert force to compel thee back to thine own region." "I would remain. In my cabin is a Teton warrior--him I love; there are ten beautiful children at his side--the Spirit of Snow fed them with her own milk--the Teton warrior is their father. Thou canst not, passionless as thou art, know my feelings; but, believe me, that to part me from them is to banish all peace and joy from my soul, and to drive me into a depth of affliction, which will last till time shall be no more. Nor deem that aught save death can weaken the force of those affections which are now kindled in my bosom." "I see, I see; and, but that stern pride forbids it, I, too, would, throw off the state of a ruler of tempests and wintry winds, to become the master of a cabin in one of the green vales of the earth, to gather around me children like thine, and to feel the hopes and fears, which have rendered thee so unlike the being thou wast. But we shall meet again. When thou wert invested with the attributes of mortality, death was also appointed to thee--a few years, and thou wilt quit the house of clay, again to rove free and unconfined among the glittering stars, and through the endless realms of space." With these words, the Spirit of Storms took his departure from the land of the Tetons, and none ever saw him more. Released from his presence, joy again took possession of the bosom of the beautiful wife of the Teton, and the traces of tears were soon removed from her fair cheek. His assurance had quieted her soul, and fear was no longer an inhabitant of her bosom. She no longer sought the gloomy privacy of the cabin at the approach of night, but joined the dance of maidens, herself the most sportive of them all. Every season added a little stranger to the laughing and merry groupe, till twenty and seven sons and daughters were in the cabin of the Teton Swift Foot. Old age came over the husband, but not the wife. When his knees had grown feeble, and his voice faint, and his eye dim, and his heart craven, her faculties were in full perfection--her cheek still wore the blush of youth, and her step was lighter than the fawn of four moons. And, if time had abated nothing of her wondrous beauty and sprightliness, neither had it of her goodness, and kind attention to the wants of the poor Indians. Her care that they should want for nothing was as much exerted as ever--still their hunting-grounds and their rivers were the best stocked of any in all the land, and their war expeditions for forty seasons were invariably blest with success. Let not my brother wonder, then, if the Tetons almost forgot their duty to the Great Spirit, in their affection for the good being whom they deemed his fatherly care had sent among them.