Being an enterprising and active man, he had introduced the American trade among the Missouri Indians, among whom he had gained great influence by his bravery and upright conduct. At length, however, perceiving that his influence was on the decline, in consequence of the artifices of rival traders, and that his customers were gradually forsaking him, he resolved to regain the ground he had lost, by marrying into some powerful family of the Omawhaws.

He selected a squaw whose family and friends were such as he desired. According to the Indian custom, he addressed himself to her parents, told them that he loved their daughter, that he was sorry to see her in the state of poverty common to her nation, and although he possessed a wife among the white people, yet he wished to have one also among the Omawhaw nation.

He said, if they would give him their daughter in marriage he would promise to treat her kindly, and as he had commenced a permanent trading establishment in their country, he would remain a part of his time every year with them, as the nature of his occupation required. His trading-house should be her home, and that of her people during her life, as he had never intended to abandon the trade.

In return, he expressed his expectation that, when he should have become connected with them by marriage, the nation would give him the refusal of their peltries, in order that he might be able to fulfil his engagement with them. He further promised that, if the match proved fruitful, the children should be made known to the white people, and would probably be qualified to continue the trade after her death.

The parents then retired to communicate the proposal to

their daughter. They told her that the trader was a great man-greater than any of the Omawhaws; that he would do much for her and for them, and they hoped she would accept his offer.

She said that all they mentioned was no doubt true, and that she was willing to become his wife.

The bargain being thus concluded, the trader made presents according to the custom of the nation, and conducted his interesting prize to his house.

The next spring he departed for the settlements, leaving her, of course, at the trading-house.

The ensuing autumn she had the pleasure to see him return having now become most ardently attached to him. Upon his visit the following season, she presented him with a fine daughter, born during his absence, and whom she had reared with the fondest attention. With her infant in her arms, she had daily seated herself on the bank of the river, and gazed down, that she might gain the earliest notice of his approach.

Thus time passed on. The second year the father greeted a son. At this time he obtained his squaw's reluctant consent to take their daughter with him on his return voyage to the country of the white people. But no sooner had he commenced his voyage, than her maternal fondness overpowered her, and she ran crying and screaming along the river-side in pursuit of the boat, tearing her long hair, and appearing almost bereft of reason.

On her return home, she gave away everything she possessed, cut off her hair, and went into deep mourning. She often said that she knew that her daughter would be better

off with her father among the white people than at home, but she could not help regarding her own situation to be the same as if the Wahconda had taken away her child for ever.

One day, being out in the field with six other squaws, her little boy being secured in his cradle-like board, which she had carefully leaned against a tree at a short distance, they were discovered by a war-party of Sioux, who rushed towards them with the hope and expectation of securing all their scalps.

In her surprise and fright, she fled precipitately; but, suddenly recollecting her child, she swiftly returned full in the face of the Sioux, snatched up her child, and turned to save its life, more precious to her than her own. She was closely pursued by one of the enemy. She succeeded in reaching a fence which separated her from the trading-house. A moment's hesitation here would have been fatal, and, exerting all her strength, she threw the child with its board as far as she could on the opposite side, and then, with the agility of a fawn, sprang over herself.

Four of the squaws were tomahawked. The others, of which the mother was one, escaped, having borne off her child uninjured.

When the trader arrived at the settlement, he found that his white wife had died during his absence. Some time after

he married another, a very amiable young lady. The second season after this event, his wife accompanied him on his annual voyage up the Missouri to his trading-house, the abode of his squaw.

Previous to his arrival, however, he sent a messenger to prevent his squaw from appearing in the presence of his wife.

She was accordingly sent off to a village of her nation about sixty miles distant.

But she could not remain there, and soon returned with her little boy on her back, and remained in a tent near the tradinghouse. She sent her son to his father, who treated him with much affection.

The next day the trader sent for the squaw, and after making her some presents, directed her to accompany her friends who were on their way to the hunting-ground.

She departed without a murmur, as it not uncommon for the Omawhaws to send off one of their wives, while they remain with the favourite one.

About two months after, the trader sent for her. Overjoyed at what she considered her good fortune, she lost no time in presenting herself before her husband, whom she tenderly loved. But great was the disappointment that awaited her. The trader demanded the surrender of her child -renounced any future conversation with herself, and directed her to return to her people, and dispose of herself in any way she chose.

Overpowered with her feelings at this demand, and at being thus cast off, she ran from the house, snatched up her child, sprang with him into a little boat on the river, paddled to the opposite side, and made her escape with the boy into the forest.

The night was cold, and attended with a storm of snow and hail. Reflecting upon her disconsolate situation, she resolved to return again in the morning, and with the feelings of a wife and mother to plead her cause before her husband, upon whom she believed she had claims paramount to those of any other individual.

Accordingly she presented herself before him, and addressed him as follows:

"Here is our child; I know you love him, but he is still more dear to me. You say you will keep him for yourself, and drive me from him. But no! I will remain with him. I can find some corner into which I can creep in order to be near him, and sometimes see him. If you will not give me food, I will still remain until I starve before your eyes."

The trader then offered her a considerable present, desiring her at the same time to go and leave the child; but she said," Is my child a dog that I should sell him for merchandize. You may beat me, and ill-use me, but still I will remain. When you married me you promised to treat me kindly. I was then a young girl, and might have married an Omawhaw chief; but now I am an old woman, and no one will regard me. Do not, do not take my child from my breast. I cannot bear to hear it cry, and not be present to relieve it. Let me at least retain him till spring, when he will be able to eat, and then—if it must be so-take him from my sight, that I may have to part with him at once."

Seeing that she would not be induced to leave her child, the trader informed her that she might remain there if she pleased, but her son should be immediately sent down to the settlement.

The affectionate mother hearing this savage determination from the trader-looked for a while at him with a tearful gaze, and in an agony of grief clasping her baby to her heart, sank down as it were lifeless to the earth.

"Now is the time," said the trader, and attempting to move the child from her impassioned embrace, two of his attendants