Feather," and the present volume, "Shagganappi," all tell of the spirit
that tells them. Love of the blessed life of blue air without gold-lust
is felt in the line and the interline, with joy in the beauty of beaver
stream, tamarac swamp, shad-bush and drifting cloud, and faith in the
creed of her fathers, that saw the Great Spirit in all things and that
reverenced Him at all times, and over and above it all the sad note that
tells of a proud race, conscious that it has been crushed by numbers,
that its day is over and its heritage gone forever.

Oh, reader of the alien race, keep this in mind: remember that no people
ever ride the wave's crest unceasingly. The time must come for us to go
down, and when it comes may we have the strength to meet our fate with
such fortitude and silent dignity as did the Red Man his.

"Oh, why have your people forced on me the name of Pauline Johnson?" she
said. "Was not my Indian name good enough? Do you think you help us by
bidding us forget our blood? by teaching us to cast off all memory of
our high ideals and our glorious past? I am an Indian. My pen and my
life I devote to the memory of my own people. Forget that I was Pauline
Johnson, but remember always that I was Tekahionwake, the Mohawk that
humbly aspired to be the saga singer of her people, the bard of the
noblest folk the world has ever seen, the sad historian of her own
heroic race."

ERNEST THOMPSON SETON.



CONTENTS