out his wrath upon me, while I continued my ob-
jections to his presence so audibly that Uncheedah
soon came to my rescue, and compelled the bold
intruder to go away. It was a common thing for
birds to alight on my cradle in the woods.

My food was, at first, a troublesome question for
my kind foster-mother. She cooked some wild rice
and strained it, and mixed it with broth made from
choice venison. She also pounded dried venison
almost to a flour, and kept it in water till the
nourishing juices were extracted, then mixed with
it some pounded maize, which was browned before
pounding. This soup of wild rice, pounded veni-
son and maize was my main-stay. But soon my
teeth came--much earlier than the white children
usually cut theirs; and then my good nurse gave
me a little more varied food, and I did all my own
grinding.

After I left my cradle, I almost walked away
from it, she told me. She then began calling my
attention to natural objects. Whenever I heard
the song of a bird, she would tell me what bird it
came from, something after this fashion:

"Hakadah, listen to Shechoka (the robin) call-
ing his mate. He says he has just found some-
think good to eat." Or "Listen to Oopehanska
(the thrush); he is singing for his little wife. He