"The Old Squaw Desired To Know Why He Was So Sorrowful - The _Remedy_,' Said She, _Is In Your Power_.' - He Then Started Up, As If Suddenly Recollecting Somewhat, And Cried Out, 'Existence Is But A Dream, An Agreeable Dream Indeed, If We Only Choose To Consider It As Such.

- Bring me that jug of strong cider; it will be my friend, when all others fail and forsake me - Choicest gift of God to man!

And which the white people alone possess the art and knowledge of producing!' - He courteously offered me a share of his beverage; but I found it so intolerably sour, that I was forced to swear by all the gods of the Indians, I would not have any connexion with it. - He then pointed to the stream where the girl was angling, and said, with a peasant countenance that had brightened up for a moment, 'Go; you are a _sober_ man; the clear waters are good for you; for my own part, this juice of the apple shall be sufficient.' - Two hours now elapsed, without any one uttering a word. - The Indian had by this time drunk two large gallons of cider; and recollecting in an instant, he had signed away his lands and wigwam, some days before, for a _mere trifle_, he became at once outrageous; his rage heightened to an alarming degree of extravagance by the strong fumes of the liquor he had swallowed. - '_It is enough_,' said he; '_my house and lands are departed:

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