offer. And on this latter occasion, when the whole atmosphere rang with cheers, there was
one who crept quietly into an unpretentious parlor. She resurrected from a quaint birch
bark basket an old yellow newspaper upon whose margin was written “With kind regards
from your brother chief--Arthur,” who looked longingly at an old buckskin coat with its
tarnished silver medals, at a rusty tomahawk that lay on a British-red broadcloth--at some
purple wampum belts and deerfoot anklets, but there is no one to wear them. The warrior
rider, with many others who gave the war-whoop that day more than twenty years ago,
has

“Sailed into the dusk of the evening
In the glory of the sunset

To the islands of the blessed

To the land of the hereafter!”

Word Count:
Total: 1749
Without Titles: 1735