THE CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 181 



though she might give the name Mis-ko-deed to her 

 April-born child, would never name a flower after her 

 child. 



The Indian girl's name, Mad-wa-osha, is harsh on our 

 tongue until we render it into English in " murmuring 

 winds." The Indians were always good friends to me, 

 and I have ever taken a great interest in and sympa- 

 thized with them, admiring their patience and quiet 

 endurance under great privations. 



Would that the charitably disposed, who do so much for 

 the poor in the large cities, would turn their thoughts 

 more often to the suffering among the scattered remnant 

 of the former owners of the land ! The men, restricted 

 by the narrow limits of civilization, die early, leaving 

 widows and orphans, or linger out a dull existence by 

 the fireside, their blood grown sluggish, and their one- 

 time energy in the chase weakened by the necessary 

 observance of the game laws. Those of the last genera- 

 tion have lost their spirit ; the boys of the present have 

 nothing to call theirs into active existence. I once 

 asked an Indian woman in the village what the great 

 boys I saw lounging about the streets did. " They ? 

 Eat ! " was the terse and emphatic reply. 



But I am wandering away from the Indian names. 

 The one given me, Peta-wan-noo-ka, " red cloud of the 

 dawn," was suggested by my rosy English complexion, 

 and those given to others among the early settlers in 

 the bush were equally poetical or descriptive. 

 13 



