its contents, than he uttered an exclamation of joyful surprise.
"O mother! It's the best prescription a physician ever wrote; it's an
order for a pension, mother--a pension for you--signed by the emperor
himself; listen, mother; hear what he says:--


"'_Madam:_--Your son was fortunate enough to meet me in the city,
and informed me of the fact that the widow of one of my bravest
officers was suffering from poverty and sickness, without any means
of assistance. I had no knowledge of this, therefore I can not be
accused of injustice.

"'It is difficult for me to know every thing that takes place in my
empire. Now that I do know of your distress, I should indeed be
ungrateful, did I not render you all the help in my power. I shall
immediately place your name on the pension list for the yearly sum
of two thousand florins, and trust that you may live many years to
enjoy it.

"'_Joseph II_.'"


The widow and her children were taken under the especial care of the
emperor, and a brilliant career was opened up for the boys, who had
inherited all their father's bravery as well as their mother's gentle
nature.


*       *       *       *       *


Directions for Reading.--Mark the _inflection_ of the following
questions.

Where do you live?

Is your name Harry or John?

Why are you begging?

Do you wish to walk?

In such a question as the last one, if _emphasis_ be given in turn to
the words _you, wish, walk_, the answer might still be _yes_ or
_no_; and yet the meaning of the answer would be different in each
case.

Do _you_ wish to walk? Yes, I do.

Do you _wish_ to walk? No, I do not _wish_ to walk; but suppose I
must.

Do you wish to _walk?_ No, I would rather _ride_.


*       *       *       *       *


Language Lesson.--Let pupils write a letter to some friend, using the
last paragraph of the lesson as a subject.


*       *       *       *       *




LESSON LVI.


persist'ed, _continued_.

crip'ples, _those who have lost the use of a limb_.

merged, _united; joined_.

stal'wart, _strong; powerful_.

in'nocent, _harmless_.

pass'port, _what enables one to go in safety_.

gal'lant, _brave; noble_.

riv'en, _taken away; deprived_.


*       *       *       *       *




UNITED AT LAST.


"O mother! What do they mean by blue?
And what do they mean by gray?"
Was heard from the lips of a little child
As she bounded in from play.
The mother's eyes filled up with tears;
She turned to her darling fair,
And smoothed away from the sunny brow
Its treasure of golden hair.

"Why, mother's eyes are blue, my sweet,
And grandpa's hair is gray,
And the love we bear our darling child
Grows stronger every day."
"But what did they mean?" persisted the child;
"For I saw two cripples to-day,
And one of them said he fought for the blue,
The other, he fought for the gray.

"Now he of the blue had lost a leg,
And the other had  but one arm,
And both seemed worn and weary and sad,
Yet their greeting was kind and warm.
They told of the battles in days gone by,
Till it made my young blood thrill;
The leg was lost in the Wilderness fight,
And the arm on Malvern Hill.

"They sat on the stone by the farm-yard gate,
And talked for an hour or more,
Till their eyes grew bright and their hearts seemed warm
With fighting their battles o'er;
And they parted at last with a friendly grasp,
In a kindly, brotherly way,
Each calling on God to speed the time
Uniting the blue and the gray."

Then the mother thought of other days--
Two stalwart boys from her riven;
How they knelt at her side and lispingly prayed,
"Our Father which art in heaven;"
How one wore the gray and the other the blue;
How they passed away from sight,
And had gone to the land where gray and blue
Are merged in colors of light.

And she answered her darling with golden hair,
While her heart was sadly wrung
With the thoughts awakened in that sad hour
By her innocent, prattling tongue:
"The blue and the gray are the colors of God,
They are seen in the sky at even,
And many a noble, gallant soul
Has found them a passport to heaven."


*       *       *       *       *




LESSON LVII.


declin'ing, _failing_.

expe'rience, _that which happens to any one_.

regard', _look at; consider_.

robust', _sound in health_.

ben'efit ed, _made better; helped_.

intense', _extreme_.

moc'ca sin, _a kind of shoe made of deer-skin_.

tem'po ra ry, _for a time_.

pe cul'iar, _strange; unusual_.

in tel'li gent, _showing good sense_.


*       *       *       *       *




A STORY OF THE SIOUX WAR.

PART I.


In the summer of 1862, while we were living in the State of Minnesota, I
had an experience which I regard as one of the most remarkable that I
ever met with.

We lived at Lac Qui Parle, or rather quite close to it, for we were
about a mile from the place.

There were only three of us--father, mother, and myself. We had moved to
Minnesota three years before, the main object of my parents being to
restore their health; for they were feeble and needed a change of
climate.

The first year, both father and mother were much benefited; but not long
after, father began to fail.

I remember that he used to take his chair out in front of the house in
pleasant weather and sit there, with his eyes turned toward the blue
horizon, or into the depths of the vast wilderness which was not more
than a stone's throw from our door.

Mother would sometimes go out and sit beside father, and they would talk
long and earnestly in low tones. I was too young to understand all this
at the time, but it was not long afterward that I learned the truth.

Father was steadily and surely declining in health; but mother had
become strong and robust, and her disease seemed to have left her
altogether. She tried to encourage father, and really believed his
weakness was only temporary.

Scarcely a day passed that I did not see some of the Sioux Indians who
were scattered through that portion of the State. In going to, and
coming from the agency, they would sometimes stop at our house.

Father was very quick in picking up languages, and he was able to
converse quite easily with the red men.

How I used to laugh to hear them talk in their odd language, which
sounded to me just as if they were grunting at each other.

But the visits used to please father and mother, and I was always glad
to see some of the rather ragged and not over-clean warriors stop at the
house.

I remember one hot day in June, when father was sitting under a tree in
front of the house, and I was inside helping mother, we heard the
peculiar noises which told us that father had an Indian visitor. We both
went to the door, and I passed outside to laugh at their queer talk.

Sure enough, an Indian was seated in the other chair, and he and father
were talking with great animation.

The Indian was of a stout build, and wore a straw hat with a broad, red
band around it; he had on a fine, black broad-cloth coat, but his
trousers were shabby and his shoes were pretty well worn.

His face was bright and intelligent, and I watched it very closely as he
talked in his earnest way with father, who was equally animated in
answering him.

The Indian carried a rifle and a revolver--the latter being in plain
sight at his waist--but I never connected the thought of danger with
him as he sat there talking with father.

I describe this Indian rather closely, as he was no other than the
well-known chief, Little Crow, who was at the head of the frightful
Sioux war, which broke out within sixty days from that time.

The famous chieftain staid until the sun went down. Then he started up
and walked away rapidly in the direction of Lac Qui Parle. Father called
good-by to him, but he did not reply and soon disappeared in the woods.

The sky was cloudy, and it looked as if a storm was coming; so, as it
was dark and blustering, we remained within doors the rest of the
evening. A fine drizzling rain began to fall, and the darkness was
intense.

The evening was well advanced, and father was reading to us, when there
came a rap upon the door.

It was so gentle and timid that it sounded like the pecking of a bird,
and we all looked in the direction of the door, uncertain what it
meant.

"It is a bird, scared by the storm," said father, "and we may as well
admit it."

I sat much nearer the door than either of my parents, and instantly
started up and opened it. As I did so, I looked out into the gloom, but
sprung back the next moment with a low cry of alarm.

"What's the matter?" asked father, hastily laying down his book and
walking rapidly toward me.

"It isn't a bird; it's a person." As I spoke, a little Indian girl,
about my own age, walked into the room, and looking in each of our
faces, asked in the Sioux language whether she could stay all night.

I closed the door and we gathered around her. She had the prettiest,
daintiest moccasins, but her limbs were bare from the knee downward. She
wore a large shawl about her shoulders, while her coarse, black hair
hung loosely below her waist.

Her face was very pretty, and her eyes were as black as coal and seemed
to flash fire whenever she looked upon any one.

Of course, her clothing was dripping with moisture, and her call filled
us all with wonder. She could speak only a few words of English, so her
face lighted up with pleasure when father addressed her in the Sioux
language.

As near as we could find out, her name was Chitto, and she lived with
her parents at Lac Qui Parle. She told us that there were several
families in a spot by themselves, and that day they had secured a
quantity of strong drink, of which they were partaking very freely.

At such times Indians are dangerous, and Little Chitto was terrified
almost out of her senses. She fled through the storm and the darkness,
not caring where she went, but only anxious to get away from the
dreadful scene.

Entering, without any intention on her part, the path in the woods, she
followed it until she saw in the distance the glimmer of the light in
our window, when she hastened to the house and asked for admission.

I need scarcely say it was gladly granted. My mother removed the damp
clothes from the little Sioux girl, and replaced them with some warm,
dry ones belonging to me. At the same time she gave her hot, refreshing
tea, and did every thing to make her comfortable.

I removed the little moccasins from the wondering Chitto's feet, kissed
her dark cheeks, and, as I uttered expressions of pity, though in an
unknown tongue, I am quite sure that they were understood by Chitto, who
looked the gratitude she could not express.

She soon began to show signs of drowsiness and was put to bed with me,
falling asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

I lay awake a little longer and noticed that the storm had ceased. The
patter of the rain was heard no more upon the roof, and the wind blew
just as it sometimes does late in the fall. At last I sunk into a sound
sleep.


*       *       *       *       *


Language Lesson.--Let pupils write a short letter to some friend,
taking as a subject, "A Visit from Little Crow," as given on pages 272
and 273.[16]

Let pupils add _y_ to each of the following words, make such other
changes as may be necessary, and then define them.

earth    air    fire    water    sleep

rain    rust    fun    fur    stick

What two words double their final letter before adding _y_? _Fiery_,
from _fire_, is irregular in spelling.


[16] This lesson.


*       *       *       *       *




LESSON LVIII.


de'mons, _spirits; evil spirits_.

groped, _found one's way by feeling with the hands_.

pre'vi ous, _going before in time; preceding_.

in clined', _leaning towards; disposed_.

dis tract'ed, _confused by grief_.

ex pired', _died_.

stat'ue, _a figure carved to represent a living being_.

stag'gered, _walked with trembling steps_.

as cer tained', _found out by inquiring_.

re tain', _keep possession of_.


*       *       *       *       *




A STORY OF THE SIOUX WAR.

PART II.


I awoke in the morning and saw the rays of the sun entering the window.
Recalling the incidents of the previous evening, I turned to speak to my
young friend.

To my surprise she was gone, and supposing she had risen a short time
before, I hurriedly dressed myself and went down stairs to help keep her
company.

But she was not there, and father and mother had seen nothing of her.
She had no doubt risen in the night and gone quietly away.

There was something curious and touching in the fact that she had groped
about in the darkness, until she found her own clothing, which she put
on and departed without taking so much as a pin that belonged to us.

We all felt a strong interest in Chitto, and father took me with him a
few days later when he visited Lac Qui Parle. He made many inquiries for
the little girl, but could learn nothing about her.

I felt very much disappointed, for I had built up strong hopes of taking
her out home with me to spend several days.

Father and I went a number of times afterward, and always made an effort
to discover Chitto; but we did not gain any knowledge of her.

On the afternoon of August 19, father was sitting in his accustomed seat
in front of the house, and mother was engaged, as usual about her
household duties. I was playing and amusing myself as a girl of my age
is inclined to do at all times.

The day was sultry and close, and I remember that father was unusually
pale and weak. He coughed a great deal, and sat for a long time so still
that I thought he must be asleep.

"Mother," said I, "what is that smoke yonder?"

I pointed in the direction of Lac Qui Parle. She saw a dark column of
smoke floating off in the horizon, its location being such, that there
could be no doubt that it was at the Agency.

"There is a fire of some kind there," she said, while she shaded her
eyes with her hand and gazed long and earnestly in that direction.

"The Indians are coming, Edward," she called to father; "they will be
here in a few minutes!"

Suddenly, a splendid black horse came galloping from the woods, and with
two or three powerful bounds, halted directly in front of me. As it did
so, I saw that the bareback rider was a small girl, and she was our
little Sioux friend, Chitto.

She made a striking picture, with her long, black hair streaming over
her shoulders, and her dress fluttering in the wind.

"Why, Chitto," said I, in amazement, "where did you come from?"

"Must go--must go--must go!" she exclaimed, in great excitement. "Indian
soon be here!"

So it seemed that, in the few weeks since she had been at our house,
she had picked up enough of the English language to make herself
understood.

"What do you mean?" asked mother, as she and I advanced to the side of
the black steed upon which the little Sioux sat; "what are the Indians
doing?"

"They burn buildings--have killed people--coming this way!"

Chitto spoke the truth, for the Sioux were raging like demons at that
very hour at Lac Qui Parle.

"What shall we do, Chitto?" asked my mother.

"Get on horse--he carry you."

"But my husband; the horse can not carry all three of us."

My poor distracted mother scarcely knew what to do. All this time father
sat like a statue in his chair. A terrible suspicion suddenly entered
her mind, and she ran to him.

Placing her hand upon his shoulder, she addressed him in a low tone, and
then uttered a fearful shriek, as she staggered backward, saying: "He is
dead! he is dead!"

Such was the fact. The shock of the news brought by the little Indian
girl was too much, and he had expired in his chair without a struggle.
The wild cry which escaped my mother was answered by several whoops from
the woods, and Chitto became frantic with terror.

"Indian be here in minute!" said she.

Mother instantly helped me upon the back of the horse and then followed
herself. She was a skillful rider, but she allowed Chitto to retain the
bridle, and we started off.

Looking back I saw a half-dozen Sioux horsemen come out of the woods and
start on a trot toward us.

Just then Chitto spoke to the horse, and he bounded off at a terrible
rate, never halting until he had gone two or three miles.

Then, when we looked back, we saw nothing of the Indians, and the horse
was brought down to a walk; and finally, when the sun went down, we
entered a dense wood, where we staid all night.

I shall not attempt to describe those fearful hours. Not one of us slept
a wink. Mother sat weeping over the loss of father, while I was
heart-broken, too.

Chitto, like the Indian she was, kept on the move continually. Here and
there she stole as noiselessly through the wood as a shadow, while
playing the part of sentinel.

At daylight we all fell into a feverish slumber, which lasted several
hours. When we awoke, we were hungry and miserable.

Seeing a settler's house in the distance, Chitto offered to go to it for
food. We were afraid she would get into trouble, but she was sure there
was no danger and went.

In less than an hour she was back again with an abundance of bread. She
said there was no one in the house, and we supposed the people had
become alarmed and escaped.

We staid where we were for three days, during which time we saw a party
of Sioux warriors burn the house where Chitto had obtained the food for
us.

It seemed to mother that the Indians would not remain at Lac Qui Parle
long, and that we would be likely to find safety there. Accordingly, she
induced Chitto to start on the return.

When we reached our house nothing was to be seen of father's body; but
we soon, discovered a newly-made grave, where we had reason to believe
he was buried.

As was afterward ascertained, he had been given a decent burial by
orders of Little Crow himself, who, doubtless, would have protected us,
had we awaited his coming.

We rode carefully through the woods, and when we came out on the other
side, our hearts were made glad by the sight of the white tents of
United States soldiers. Colonel Sibley was encamped at Lac Qui Parle,
and we were safe at last.

Chitto disappeared from this post in the same sudden manner as before;
but I am happy to say that I have seen her several times since. Mother
and I were afraid her people would punish her for the part she took in
helping us, but they did not.

Probably the friendship which Little Crow showed toward our family, may
have had something to do with the gentle treatment which the Indians
showed her.


*       *       *       *       *


Language Lesson.--Supply the words omitted from the following
sentences.

"Must go! Indian soon be here!"

"Indian be here in minute!"

Let pupils make out an _analysis_ for the subject--

"Our Second Visit from Chitto,"

and use it in giving that part of the story in their own words.


*       *       *       *       *




LESSON LIX.


e mit', _send forth_.

con'trast, _difference in form or appearance_.

molt'en, _melted_.

con'ic al, _having the shape of a cone_.

vol'umes, _quantities; masses_.

char'ac ter, _kind; formation_.

del'uge, _flood; drown_.