146 AN INDIAN LEGEND. 



Flowers by spirit hands imbued 

 In that far-off solitude. 

 Gave the dews, which, mingle well 

 Love's resistless, maddening spell. 



Wouldst thou win a charm of might. 

 Seek that honied store to-night ; 

 To thy lover's lip impart 

 Sweetness from the flowret's heart ; 

 And his latest thought shall be 

 Fraught with tenderness for thee. 



Mo-na-wing's heart grew light as she listened to the Ma- 

 uitto's words, and she awoke from her pleasant dream only 

 to go directly to the old hemlock which overhung the entrance 

 to the Manitto's dell. Concealed in the cavity of the hollow 

 trunk was a honey-comb as rich and luscious as if just 

 gathered from the summer flowers. A green leaf, folded into 

 a cup by her delicate fingers, served to bear the precious 

 treasure, and with a beating heart she hurried to her home. 



The shadows of the tall trees were flung in lengthened lines 

 towards the eastern horizon, when Mo-na-wing approached the 

 lodge, and her bosom thrilled as she beheld Ma-ma-twa 

 sitting at the door awaiting her return. Her impatient love 

 forbade any delay, and beckoning him to approach, she seated 

 herself at the root of a gnarled tree, which bordered a marshy 

 lake of flowers, and offered him the magical honey. Smiling 

 gently at the earnestness of the girlish creature, who could 

 find so much excitement in so small a success, and not dreaming 



