visited her in 1832. She had lived to an unheard of age. Mrs. Kinzie paints a portrait of her: There was among their number, this year, one whom I had never before seen—the mother of the elder Day-kau-ray. No one could tell her age, but all agreed that she must have seen upwards of a hundred winters. Her eyes dimmed, and almost white with age—her face dark and withered, like a baked apple—her voice tremulous and feeble, except when raised in fury to reprove her graceless grandsons, who were fond of playing her all sorts of mischievous tricks, indicated the very great age she must have attained. She usually went upon all fours, not having strength to hold herself erect. On the day of the payment, having received her portion, which she carefully hid in the corner of her blanket, she came crawling along and seated herself on the door step, to count her treasure.... In spite of their vexatious tricks, she seemed very fond of them, and never failed to beg something of her Father, that she might bestow upon them. She crept into the parlor one morning, then straightening herself up, and supporting herself by the frame of the door, she cried in a most piteous tone,—"Shaw-nee-aw-kee Wau-tshob-ee-rah Thsoonsh-koo-nee-noh!" [Žuniya-ąké ho(kik)čąbira čųšgunįno] (Silver-man I have no looking glass.) My husband smiling and taking up the same little tone, cried, in return,— "Do you wish to look at yourself mother?" The idea seemed to her so irresistibly comic that she laughed until she was fairly obliged to seat herself upon the floor and give way to her enjoyment. She then owned that it was for one of the boys that she wanted the little mirror. When her Father had given it to her, she found that she had "no comb," then that she had "no knife," then that she had "no calico shawl," until it ended, as it generally did, by Shaw-nee-aw-kee paying pretty dearly for his joke. She must have died soon afterwards. Hocąk lore has filled in the details. The tradition says that when she was out among the pines, an owl, a creature of ill omen, perched nearby and uttered her name. That night, wrapped in her furs with a smile on her face, she died. Strangely, during the raging blizzard that engulfed the village that night, the rare sound of thunder could be heard, as