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the stage without so much as the turning of a feather is one of the mysteries. But he comes up serene and smiling, and Hiawatha forgives him and restores him to his place in the tribe.
But it is impossible to give the full details of the playOnly one more scene can be touched upon, — the mystical departure of Hiawatha.
" In the glory of the sunset, In the purple of the evening, To the region of the west wind, Of the north-west wind, Kee-way-din, To the islands of the hlest, To the land of the hereafter."
Again his people gather around him to dissuade him. Very real is their sorrow. Dejection — almost despair — speak in every movement, every attitude. With face lifted tn the glowing sky and hands outstretched in pleading prayer for his people, Hiawatha chants his farewell song. Mournfully it is taken up by the deep-voiced warriors as he steps into his canoe. From before him the water sweeps nut in a wide silvery sheet that melts its way between the high shores of Campment d'Ours and Sapper Island. Breaking the long lines of light are two diminutive green isles buttressing their lengthening shadows before the western sun. St. .Joseph Island lies along the horizon in the dim distance like a purple wall. This is what Hiawatha faces as he steps into his canoe ; this is what the audience behind him faces ; in all the glory of the waning summer afternoon. And then the singing, the solemn, tender, thrilling Indian melody, floating out over the water now from a score of deep voices, now that one lone voice speeding so mysteriously westward without touch of oar or breath of wind.
" And the evening sun descending Set the clouds on fire with redness : Burned the broad sky like a prairie : Left upon the livid water One long track and trail of splendour. Down whose strearii as down a river Westward, Westward Hiawatha Sailed into the fiery sunset ; Sailed into the purple vapours ; Sailed into the dusk of evening, And they said farewell forever, Said farewell to Hiawatha,"