trade furs at Grimross.  Indians were very savage and blood-thirsty.  Broke in door of house, white woman fired gun, they all ran away.  She was captured after falling down bank.  She was taken to house of English people and afterwards treated like one of the family.  A lot of Indians came back second time about last of winter, few days ago broke into the house of English people and set it on fire.  The English woman fired two guns and killed three Indians.  The rest of Indians ran away.  When gun was fired and house burning, was afraid English woman would kill her.  As soon as could get over dead Indians in door, ran away among trees, and was frightened to come out again till all pale faces went away.  Felt very cold when pale faces went away, wandered back to burnt house, found the blankets, returned with them to woods, got down against tree, put blankets over feet and legs, and remember no more till my Paul woke me next day.”

As Paul Guidon related his mother’s story his face was bathed in tears.  Mrs. Godfrey attentively listened, and at the same time carefully watched every feature of old Mag’s face.  When Paul had finished his mother’s story, Margaret Godfrey gently raised old Mag’s head, and bending over it said, “Poor old Mag this is indeed you.”  The dying Indian woman tried in vain to move her lips, while her body seemed convulsed.  She then stretched herself out at full length and a slight tremor passed over her frame, her chin dropped.

Mrs. Godfrey looked up at Paul, who was standing at the foot of the bed, and remarked, “Paul your dear old mother is gone, forever gone.”  The Indian without replying then threw himself upon the bed and lay motionless beside the body of his mother.  In a short time he began to weep and moan, which he continued to do so long and piteously, that Margaret thought his sorrowing heart would burst.  At last completely exhausted with grief he remained quiet and passive as though his spirit too had passed over to the green fields and still waters of the everlasting hunting grounds.

Margaret gazed upon the quiet features and still form of the handsome young Iroquois, he was in the vigour of his manhood, being scarcely twenty-four years old; and said, as she admired his manly look, “Paul, your mother is happier now;” “she is in that land where trials, trouble and death are unknown.  You must live to meet her there.  Your mother is now sailing on silvery water; breathing an atmosphere perfumed with celestial spices; and sitting in a canoe made from the bark of trees growing on the shores of Canaan’s stream.  Her wigwam will be made of the same kind of bark and ornamented with pearls and precious stones.  She will wear a neck-lace of jewels and on her head will be a crown of glory.”

Paul, weary and sad, went to his canoe, launched it and sailed down the river to catch some fish for supper, and Mrs. Godfrey proceeded to prepare the body of old Mag for burial, while the children played around the wigwam.  When the Indian had returned he found all that remained of his mother neatly prepared for the grave.