The Falls were thy grave, as they leapt mad along,
     And the roar of their waters thy funeral song: 
     So wildly, so madly, thy people for aye,
     Are rapidly, ceaselessly, passing away. 
     They are seen but a moment, then fade and are past,
     Like a cloud in the sky, or a leaf in the blast;
     The path thou hast trodden, thy nation shall tread,
     Chief, warrior, and kin, to the Land of the Dead;
     And soon on the lake, or the shore, or the green,
     Not a war drum shall sound, not a smoke shall be seen.

27th.  Oral Literature of the Indians.—­“I am extremely anxious,” writes a friend, “that Mr. Johnston and his family should furnish full and detailed answers to my queries, more particularly upon all subjects connected with the language, and, if I may so speak, the polite literature of the Chippewas (I write the word in this way because I am apprehensive that the orthography is inveterately fixed, and not because I suppose it is correct)[23].  There is no quarter from which I can expect such full information upon these topics as from this.  I must beg you to aid me in the pursuit.  Urge them during the long winter evenings to the task.  The time cannot be more profitably or pleasantly spent, and, as I am told you are somewhat of an aboriginal scholar, you can assist them with your advice and judgment.  A perfect analysis of the language is a great desideratum.  I pray you, in the spring, to let me have the fruits of their exertions.”

[Footnote 23:  I had written, announcing the word Od-jib-wa to be the true Indian pronunciation, and recommending its adoption.]

With a strong predisposition to these inquiries, with such additional excitement to the work, and with the very highest advantages of interpretation and no little fixity of application from boyhood, it must go hard with me this winter if I do not fish up something from the well of Indian researches and traditionary lore.

     Go, student, search, and if thou nothing find,
     Go search again; success is in the mind.—­ALGON.

28th.  The right spirit, humble yet manful.—­A young man of purpose and some talent, with considerable ambition, who is diligently seeking a place in the world, writes me from Detroit to-day, in this strain:  “True it is, I have determined to pass the winter either in New York or Washington, probably the latter place.  But, my dear sir, my hope of doing anything for myself in this world is the faintest possible, and I begin to fatigue with the exertion.  If I do not succeed this winter in obtaining something permanent,[24] I shall probably settle down, either in this place or somewhere in New York, a poor devil!—­from all which, and many other things, ‘good Lord deliver us!’ Farewell; my best wishes be with you this winter, to keep you warm.  I shall expect next spring to see you an accomplished nichee” [25] [Ne-je].