I bowed down my head over this dying murderer, who had given his life for mine, and my tears fell thick and fast. He thought not of himself. He thought of his "little monkeys." They had been kinder to him than his fellows. No more, in the bitter, bitter despair of his remorse, should he go out, and, looking in their large, mild eyes, find that kindliness he had sought in vain among

men.

He lingered but a little while. His mind wandered away in a delirium. Seeing his lips move, I bent down and caught these words, muttered in his mother tongue: "Dort ist Ruhe."

"Yonder is rest.”

Was he thinking of his far-off home in Texas? or were his thoughts at that moment following his fast-glazing eyes, and roving among the stars?

There came a sharp, quick shudder, and San Antone was dead.

PIMO LEGEND OF MONTEZUMA.

Let us welcome, then, the strangers,
Hail them as our friends and brothers,
And the heart's right hand of friendship
Give them when they come to see us.
Gitche Manito, the Mighty,

Said this to me in my vision.

LONGFELLOW.

[T

T was when the Casa Grande still lifted up its mudbuilt walls beside the waters of the sacred Gila. It was when the seven cities of Cibola were still full of warriors, strong to twank the arrow, and of the glories and the riches of many wars, turquoises, and emeralds, and many precious stones, with jewels of copper, and knives of obsidian. All their streets and market-places were still full of spinning-women; and these had gourds, and earthen vessels, and plenty of maize and of melons, beans of mesquite, and painted cloths of manta.

Far toward the rising Sun, a great king ruled without dispute over mighty plains and sandy heaths, smooth and wearisome, and bare of wood, covered all over with herds of crook-backed oxen, swift and fierce. Toward the setting Sun, beyond the great Colorado, King Tartarrax ruled over the pleasant and sunny land of Quivera, with yellow valleys, and purple hills full of gold. The Colorado still rolled down his wide waters to the sea, unvexed by any keel of the Palefaces; and the banks of our own river were still untrodden by any of their destroying bands of braves, or of their ancient and black-robed Fathers,

who came to take away peace forever from our sacred country, Aztlan.

It was when our strong young braves still wooed their dark-eyed maidens, and walked in purity beneath the shadow of the cottonwoods, naked, and were not ashamed; before the unclean and guilty Paleface had taught them to covet those blood-colored garments which are abominable unto mine eyes. All yet was peace, sweet peace, within the borders of our sacred country, Aztlan; but our young braves triumphed over all her enemies round about, and the Moquis brought us tribute of wolf-skins, and the terrible Apaches humbly bought our maize for the gold of their mountains. We drank the blood of the savage Yumas, and braided their long hair into bow-strings; and there was no deceitful Paleface to interfere. There was then no murrain in our flocks, no blight or mildew in our fields, and no fire-water in our wigwams. Our women were pure yet from the hated touch of the Paleface, and our papooses toddled in and out our doors, with faces clear of those horrible cankers which they bear now for the sins of their fallen mothers.

When you stand with your face toward the rising Sun, and point with your right hand, far off in that direction ruled our Great Father, Montezuma, in his city Tenochtitlan, over all the land from the sunrise- to the sunsetwaters. We had silver like rice, and gold like heaps of yellow corn, brought from the land beyond the Colorado, the land of Quivera; but we gladly gave it all to our Great Father.

In those days there came to our fathers a story, floating on the wind, that a band of the braves of the Palefaces, with certain of their ancient and black-robed Fathers, were coming from the city of our Great Father, to visit sacred Aztlan. And the hearts of our fathers were filled

with joy; and they were moved to propose a feast of welcome to those who were coming so great a distance to visit them. Our chief and all the young chiefs assembled together, that they might devise how best to give them welcome.

And, before many days, there came one of the Pimos, running and catching his breath, and said the Palefaces were coming. There was a little company of braves, bearing muskets and lances; and they came with great pomp, and many horses, and strange and wonderful music of silver reeds, and having upon their heads coverings, as it were, of rubbed and shining gold. Before them rode their chief, with a great knife, long and dazzling, and his horse wheeled this way and that way; and behind, sitting upon asses, were the ancient and black-robed Fathers, who bore crosses of mahogany wood, and chanted with loud voices.

Then our chief and all the young chiefs made haste, and went out to welcome the Palefaces. They gave them water to drink in gourds, and ripe pears of the cactus, blood-hearted, and very cool to the traveler. They also brought them to sit under shady arbors, and gave them whatever things else, either pleasant to eat or to drink, were in their village; for our fathers rejoiced greatly at their coming. And the Palefaces ate, and drank, and talked with them. Last of all our chief talked with one of the black-robed Fathers, but his words were interpreted by another. Yet they spake not well together, but were of different minds. And it came about that the blackrobed Father said to our chief:

"Dost thou believe on God?"

66

Yea, my brother," said our chief; "we believe in God, even the Great Spirit, from whom we have our spirits, and our sacred country, Aztlan."

"But thy god is a heathen god, and we account him less than nothing, and as a delusion and a snare."

"We know not, brother, if he be a heathen god, nor yet what heathen may be. We only know he is very kind unto us, and gave us our Great Mother, Aztlan, to nourish us, and all these shady trees, and the sacred Gila for water.

"But thy god cannot save thy soul from hell when thou diest."

"Tell me, what is hell, brother? Our prophets and medicine-men have spoken nothing of it at any time. Hell may have terrors for the Paleface, if his God made it; but, for the Pimo, none. If thy God be not able to save all from hell, but only a portion, as thou sayest, then Aztitli pities the Paleface.

"We believe that every Pimo, when he dies, is carried to the banks of the great and rapid Colorado; and that the spirit of every brave then takes up its habitation in some green and mighty tree which waves upon his banks, or stands upon the lofty mountains which he washes. The spirit of every squaw is carried into one of the clouds, those silvery, golden, and rosy clouds thou seest yonder. He who was bravest in this life, and slew fierce and many enemies, shall dwell in the loftiest tree, which waves in the sweet air the Great Spirit hath made, and lifts up its head proudly toward the Sun, and holds converse with the spirits of the clouds that settle round his head. he whose soul was base, and whose life was a shame, shall inhabit the lowest tree, which dwells down in perpetual darkness and dampness, never beholding the Sun, or the golden clouds, or the sweet light of heaven. The clouds shall never settle fondly round his head."

But

"Ah, vain and babbling Pagan! What can all these thy wicked and idle imaginings avail thee against an