wind appeared to whistle a requiem for the departed squaw. And in the
long and quiet hours of the darkness, he felt certain that old Mag's
spirit left the woods, and in never ceasing motion kept watch about the
camp, and at regular intervals would pass within and kiss him when
asleep.

The Indian from his habits of life, skimming in his canoe over the
lonely and wooded river, or skipping from rock to rock on the lonely
mountain side; in tracing the border of the roaring cataract, in
pitching his tent along the edge of the flowing river or the sleeping
lake; out on the prairie or in the midst of the dense forest; among the
trees on the ocean shore, is most deeply impressed with the belief that
the Great Chief is watching his actions from behind trees, out of the
surface of the waters, from the tops of the mountains, and out of the
bosom of the prairie. He thinks that the lightning is His spear, and the
thunder His voice. He feels that a terrible something is all around him,
and when death calls any of his tribe away supreme superstition takes
firm hold of his very existence.

"Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind."

The poet, and the highly imaginative person, the wise and the good, seek
the hills and the valleys, the dashing cataract, the forest and stream,
the mountain range, the rocky coast and roaring ocean, and there drink
in the grandeur of creation in those sublime scenes. In such places they
feel a nearness to the Creator, and view His power and handiwork in a
measure not always attainable in the ordinary scenes of everyday life.
Such persons admire with reverential awe the greatness of God and feel
His love.