After marrying the second, Brewett apparently divided his care, attention, and affection, equally between his wives, and seemed in public to esteem them alike; but the smiles that once played so pleasantly on the face of the first loved bride, had fled forever, and the broodings of sadness and sorrowful thought had shed their dark umbrage over her beautiful brow. The pangs of disappointed love and blighted hope had deeply entered her soul; she had given her whole heart to her husband, and she could not brook a rival in that heart's delight.

The two wives seldom spoke to each other, and when they did, it was only in monosyllables, evincing that there was no affection between them. The second, however, durst not, either by word, look, or action, give evidence of satisfaction at the triumph she could not otherwise than feel. The grief of the first wife was observed by all for;

Her heart was too heavy with the weight of its woe for this. At times Brewett would be seen regarding her with a piteous and pained look, as if a feeling of remorse had fastened on his soul for his unkind and cruel treatment; his first wife then appeared to him in all her pristine loveliness and worth, and with the sweetness of an early love and beaconings of bliss. On these repentant occasions, he would take her hand, and fix his dark and piercing though handsome eye on hers, as if to read her inmost soul, and so he did. For he met not the soft and tender glance that erst had beamed with love and joy at his gaze, but in its stead a mirror dark and solemn, reflecting but too truly the sorrows of the soul within. He fathomed a grief whose fountain knew no change, and then would rush from her presence and endeavour to find relief from the tortures of an upbraiding conscience, in the seclusions of retirement and solitude.

In this state matters continued untill the close of the treaty, in which, in no otherwise was he distinguished with the exception of the pomp he assumed. At the termination of the business that had called the tribes together, he left for his home. The unhappy, though handsome Brewett, was then seen with his two wives on horseback, wending his way along the shores of the rapid Wabash, towards his distant wigwam in the wilderness, there to witness the wasting of the flower he had planted in his bosom, and which, in a whim of fancy for another, he had plucked and thrown away to die. What was his after destiny the historian has not been told.

A CHIPPEWAY SQUAW AND CHILD.

"So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There ne'er was a knight like brave Lochinvar."
Scotl.

"And wilt thou think of me when thou art far away? Far from the endearments of thine own NET-NO-QUA? And will the remembrance of our first love dwell with and stimulate thee in the fight? Ah! WAA-BIN-DE-BA! behold the dearest fruit of that love, think of it in the day of battle, and let the thought of its care return thee safe to my arms." Such was the language of NET-NO-QUA as her lover bade her farewell, ere he hastened to join the war-party. He embraced her affectionately; implanted a rude but passionate kiss on the face of his babe, snatched up his war club from the ground, and with a wild shout rushed from her presence.

NET-NO-QUA was the youngest daughter of a noted Chippeway chief, named ASH-ETAA-NA-QUET, who not only loved her above all his other children, but had firmly resolved in his own mind, that no one but the "bravest of the brave" should be her husband, and his son. Among the numerous young chiefs who had aspired to her hand, was WaaBIN-DE-BA, or the White-headed-Eagle. Handsome and well spoken, young and aspiring, it was with no great difficulty he succeeded in engaging her affections, and implanting in the heart of NET-NO-QUA the sweets and thorns of love. At first their sentiments were simply exchanged through the language of the eyes, the love-letters of the untutored savage, and from those proceeded the stolen interviews, in which they unfolded to each other the state of their hearts, their hopes, and their fears. It might easily be supposed that ASH-E-TAA-NA-QUET, proud of his birth, and the heroic deeds of himself and his ancestors, would not easily be brought to yield his consent to the

solicitations of a love-sick youth, destitute alike of fortune and of fame; and it was therefore, not without fears of this kind, that NET-NO-QUA would entreat him to be cautious and reserved, and endeavour to gain her father's favour and approbation by earning and acquiring the name of a good hunter and a brave warrior, - those two indispensable requisites for an Indian's favour. WAA-BIN-DE-BAA, however, confident in his own capabilities and qualities, hazarded a formal proposal to the old chief, who received and treated it with disdain. "What,” (exclaimed he,) “who art thou that wouldest dare to ally thyself with the blood of ASH-E-TAA-NA-QUET? Where is thy wigwam? and where are the scalps that thou hast taken in battle? Knowest thou where to find the deer, the buffalo, and the beaver? Canst thou wield a war club, or shape a canoe? What has thou to do with a squaw? Away! and become a chief, ere thou askest for a wife." Sorrowed and abashed, WAA-BIN-DE-BA hastened from the chief, and sought NET-NO-QUA, to tell her of his unsuccess, and soothe and calm her fears with visions of future bliss. He now determined henceforth to become a warrior, and anxiously awaited the moment when he could enrol his name among the chiefs of his nation, on their next war excursion. Some months however elapsed before an opportunity offered, and in the meantime, the delicate situation of NET-NO-QUA could no longer be concealed. The consequences of illicit love became gradually manifest, and secrecy no longer served as a shield to her unfortunate condition. The rage and indignation of ASH-E-TAA-NA-QUET was terrible in the extreme, at the discovery, and nothing would appease him, short of the life of WAA-BIN-DE-BA. With savage fury and madness, he grasped his tomahawk, and was rushing to the hut of WAA-bin-de-ba, when his daughter threw herself at his feet and besought his pity. She conjured him to forgive WAA-BIN-DE-BA for her sake, for the sake of her unborn babe. She clasped his knees with her arms and hung round him with agony, until yielding to her feelings she swooned at his feet. ASH-E-TAA-NA-QUET for an instant forgot his anger, he gazed down on her with sorrow, and hastily brushed a strolling tear from his cheek; when raising her from the ground, he said, half audibly, "NET-NO-QUA, the heart of thy father bleeds; it will break if it hath not its revenge; let thy betrayer beware of my sight; I will not for thy sake seek him; but let him not come in my path." In the course of time, NET-NO-QUA gave birth to a beautiful child, when her father became more reconciled, and even allowed WAA-BIN-DE-BA to visit her; but to all his entreaties for marriage, he returned a sullen stern refusal. The haughty pride of birth and heroism predominated over the necessity of the case, nor would he listen to any overtures, until WAA-BIN-DE-BA had vowed to become worthy of NET-NO-QUA by his actions in the field. It was now that his soul hungered and thirsted after fame, and an opportunity for displaying his bravery. A war had been in agitation between his own tribe and the Sioux, which finally broke out, and WAA-BIN-DE-BA joined the war party. They were to leave the next day for the country of the enemy. He was per

mitted to take a farewell of NET-NO-QUA, and it was on this occasion she had addressed him in the words that commence the history. WAA-BIN-DE-BA and the party finally departed.

Three months had now rolled heavily and wearily along, and found NET-NO-QUA, anxiously awaiting the return of WAA-BIN-DE-BA. The playful smiles of her infant had beguiled away many a weary hour, and the pleasure she enjoyed in its tender caress repaid her toil, and soothed her anxious heart.

It was one evening after a sultry summer's day, when she was sitting at the door of her father's wigwam, while the aged chief sat smoking in deepest thought, that the air resounded with terrific shouts of a savage and fierce description, that made the welkin ring. Springing from the ground, she could scarcely cry "WAA-BIN-DE-BA," when the returning war party made their appearance, immerging from the distant woods yelling and screaming the triumphant warning. On they came brandishing their spears and tomahawks, and with war clubs, from which were suspended many male and female scalps. Up rose ASH-E-TAA-NA-QUET, while all the women and a few chiefs of the village that had remained behind, advanced to meet them. The sounds of joy and triumph as they approached became more distinct, until could be plainly heard their chiefs announcing the victory with savage delight. They had met the foe and conquered. Forty human scalps dangled from their upraised spears as trophies of their prowess, and immense plunder covered the backs of their horses. As they neared, the eyes of NET-NO-QUA strained to catch a glimps of WAA-BIN-DE-BA ; her piercing looks seek through the promiscuous ranks for her "warrior knight," and yet she finds him not. Good heavens! thought she, could he have fallen in battle? She rushes to the chieftian: "Where is WAA-BIN-DE-BA?" She cried in a voice almost stifled with emotion, "Where is the father of my child?" With sullen gravity the chief regarded her for a while, then turning to ASH-E-TAA-NA-QUET, in a low tone said:

"Waa-bin-de-ba is lost!!"

Stupified with horror, NET-NO-QUA sank down upon the ground, while the eyes of ASH-E-TAA-NA-QUET glistened with delight. He considered his daughter now secure from a degrading alliance, and would then have willingly bestowed her on the first war chief that applied. She was raised from the ground only to hear the detail of her misfortune. WAA-BIN-DE-BA had, it seems, engaged valorously in battle, and performed heroic acts on every occasion that offered, when forcing his way farther within the enemies lines than was prudent, he became surrounded, and was made a