began:—

THE STORY AND SONG OF ISH´-I-BUZ-ZHI.

"Long ago there lived an old Omaha Indian couple who had an only child, a son named Ish´-i-buz-zhi. From his birth he was peculiar. He did not play like the other children; and, as he grew older, he kept away from the boys of his own age, refusing to join in their sports or to hunt with them for small game. He was silent and reserved with every one but his mother and her friends. With them he chatted and was quite at ease. So queer a little boy could not escape ridicule. The people spoke of him as one 'having no sense,' and it seemed as though he would have no friends except his parents and a few women intimates of his mother.

"During the long winter evenings, when the old men who came to his father's lodge talked of bygone times and told tales of ancient heroes, this silent, seemingly heedless boy caught and treasured every word. He noted that the stories said that the mighty men of early days were armed only with clubs. He mused on this fact, and determined to make himself such a weapon. So he fashioned a four-sided club, practised with it in secret, and kept it constantly with him. He was well laughed at because he clung always to his club and would not learn the use of the bow; but he kept his own counsel, and, as the years went on, no one knew that the Sparrow-hawk had talked to him in a vision, and that he had become possessed of two of its sacred feathers.

"One day when Ish´-i-buz-zhi had grown to be a man, he heard a group of warriors discussing plans for an expedition against a tribal enemy. He determined to go with them; but he said nothing, and silently watched the men depart. That night he stole away and followed the trail of the warriors. In the morning one of the servants of the war party discovered him and reported to the Leader, who ordered that he be brought in. When the men saw that it was Ish´-i-buz-zhi, they joked him, and asked why he who cared only for the company of old women had come to them; but the Leader rebuked the warriors and received the youth kindly, and, when he found that the young man was not properly provided with clothing, bade his followers to fit him out from their own supplies. They obeyed, and they also made him a bow of ash and gave him some arrows.

"After many days' travel the party drew near to the enemy. A scout discovered their camp and reported having seen one of their men. At once the warriors prepared for battle, putting on the sacred paint and divesting themselves of unnecessary garments, which they handed over to Ish´-i-buz-zhi to take care of during the fight. But the young man had his own plans, and went to the Leader and asked permission to go and look at the enemy. With many cautions not to give an alarm and prevent surprise, the Leader consented, and off Ish´-i-buz-zhi started.

"Catching sight of the enemy, he threw away his bow, and, armed only with his club, rushed suddenly upon the foremost man, overthrew and killed him. When the war party came upon the scene, they saw with amazement what he had done,—how by the might of his single arm he had killed the Leader of the enemy and scattered his warriors.

"On the return of the Omaha men to their village the Herald, according to custom, proclaimed the deed of Ish´-i-buz-zhi. The old mother sitting in her tent heard his words, and called to her husband:

"'What is this that I hear? Go you out and learn the truth.'

"'It is only their ridicule of our boy,' said the old man, loath to stir.

"The Herald cried again, and the old man arose and stood at the door of the tent. Then of a truth he learned that, single-handed, his son had vanquished the enemy. Again and again did Ish´-i-buz-zhi join war parties, and he was always the foremost to meet the enemy and to scatter them with his club.

"Many tales are told of him; for he was fond of joking, and was often absent-minded. It is said that his wife was skilled in embroidery, and would decorate his moccasins with fine porcupine quill work; and it disturbed her to see him put them on to go out of a morning when the dew was on the grass. So she took him to task for his thoughtlessness.

"'While the grass is wet,'" said she, "'carry your moccasins in your belt.'

"He obeyed; but he forgot to put them on when the grass was dry, and came home with feet bruised and sore, and his moccasins still in his belt.

"But these peculiarities no longer provoked ridicule, as when Ish´-i-buz-zhi was a boy; for as a man, generous and strong, he was beloved by the people. The child who had feasted on tales of the old heroes had in his manhood reproduced their brave deeds. So it came to pass that, when danger threatened, it was to him that the people ran for help; and he never failed them."

The song refers to one of these appeals. An alarm arose, and to Ish´-i-buz-zhi, sitting in his tent, the people cried, "The enemy comes and calls for you, Ish´-i-buz-zhi."

DANCE SONG. (Ichibuzzhi.)

Omaha. He-dhu´-shka.

Harmonized by Prof. J.C. Fillmore.

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STORY AND SONG OF THE LEADER.

After many years of warfare the Omaha tribe made peace with the Sioux. One bright autumn day it was suggested that, in order to show their friendly feeling, a party of Omahas should visit the Sioux tribe. So the men and women made everything ready for the long journey.

Tent covers and camp belongings were fastened on trailing travaux, ponies were laden with gayly painted parfleche packs, containing the fine garments of the people and the gifts to be presented to the Sioux. Soon the motley-coloured line could be seen winding over the rolling prairie. The young men, mounted on their spirited horses, dashed off, racing with each other to attract the attention of the maidens, who could only follow with their eyes, so closely guarded were they by the elder women. Old men jogged along in groups, talking to each other, their lariats dragging through the grass, now and then snapping off the head of a wild flower or catching in a tangle of weeds. Boys made the air ring with their laughter, as they slipped off their ponies to shoot their small arrows at some imaginary game. It was a scene full of careless pleasure and happy movement under a cloudless sky.

When nearing the Sioux village, the people paused beside a stream to wash off the dust of travel, to put on their gayest attire, and to newly paint their hair and faces. The prairie was their vast