profitable account by shooting at cents, which were to be the prize of
his successful aim.

The Indian had not long been seated, ere our merry damsel sought to
draw him into conversation. She, indeed, seemed all made up of
sunshine in the mouth of May; for there was nothing so dark and dismal
that her pleasant mind could not cast a glow over it; and the wild
Indian, like a fir-tree in his native forest, soon began to brighten
into a sort of sombre cheerfulness. At length, she inquired whether
his journey had any particular end or purpose.

"I go shoot at the camp-meeting at Stamford," replied the Indian.

"And here are five more," said the girl, "all aiming at the camp-
meeting too. You shall be one of us, for we travel with light hearts;
and as for me, I sing merry songs, and tell merry tales, and am full
of merry thoughts, and I dance merrily along the road, so that there
is never any sadness among them that keep me company. But, O, you
would find it very dull indeed, to go all the way to Stamford alone!"

My ideas of the aboriginal character led me to fear that the Indian
would prefer his own solitary musings to the gay society thus offered
him; on the contrary, the girl's proposal met with immediate
acceptance, and seemed to animate him with a misty expectation of
enjoyment. I now gave myself up to a course of thought which, whether
it flowed naturally from this combination of events, or was drawn
forth by a wayward fancy, caused my mind to thrill as if I were
listening to deep music. I saw mankind, in this weary old age of the
world, either enduring a sluggish existence amid the smoke and dust of
cities, or, if they breathed a purer air, still lying down at night