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Of waving bough, or warbling bird,,There was a poor young man. He was very poor. His father, his mother, and all his relations were dead. He had no lodge, no wife to tan his robes or make his moccasins. His clothes were always old and worn. He had no home. To-day he stopped in one lodge; then to-morrow he ate and slept in another. Thus he lived. He had a good face, but on his cheek was a bad scar.,"Did you see Mā-mĭn´?" asked Red Robe, when his grandmother had returned with the meat and had told him what the chief had said.,For a brief instant the Australian's eyes flash fire; then he lowers his lids, and laughs quite easily.,"Yes, I dare say," says Lady Rodney, who is now wondering when this high-flown visitor will take her departure.,"I don't quite know," says Mona, slowly, "but what Uncle Brian principally studies is—pigs!",This story tells how these two lodges came to be made.,"Nevertheless, you might have waived that fact, and sent down word you had a headache.",COLD MAKER'S MEDICINE,If she had been nurtured all her life in the fashionable world, she could scarcely have made a more correct speech. Geoffrey is puzzled, nay more, discomfited. Just in this wise would a woman in his own set answer him, did she mean to repel his advances for the moment. He forgets that no tinge of worldliness lurks in Mona's nature, and feels a certain amount of chagrin that she should so reply to him.,"Don't be long," he says, impulsively, as she disappears down a passage.,"Oh! hardly!" says Violet with a soft laugh and another blush. "How could you?".