My Library

for mind ever makes itself felt and admired. Not one of the ethnological, physical, moral, or mental characteristics which mark the Romany tribes was to be noticed in this girl, and wise people concluded that she had somewhere been stolen by the woman, who from fear or policy had left her to her fate and the good old Indian’s care. Esthetics is not my forte, hence I shall not attempt to describe the young girl. The name she bore was marked on her clothing in Greek letters, which were afterwards rendered into English by a professor of a college whose assistance had been asked by the Indian. Besides being known far and near as the most beautiful girl of her age, she was also distinguished as by far the most intelligent. She was undisputed queen on the Reservation, not by right, but by quiet usurpation. She looked and acted the born Empress, and her triplicate sceptre consisted of kindness, intelligence, and that nameless dignity and presence inherent in truly noble souls. Such was the bright-shining maiden, who, attracted by the boy’s cry and actions, now crossed over to the side of young Beverly. Observing his sorrowful appearance, she placed her soft hand tenderly upon his head, and said in tones heart-felt and deeply sympathetic, “Man of the heavy heart, why weep you here? Is your