Mrs. Hemans has immortalized the heart-broken one who perished in the Falls of St. Anthony some years ago, as related by a missionary. Her name was Ampatd Sapa.
“The husband was a successful hunter, and they lived happily together many years, and had two children, who played around their fire, and whom they were glad to call their children. Many families by degrees settled around them, and built wigwams near theirs. Wishing to become more closely connected with them, they represented to the hunter that he ought to have several wives, as by that means he would become of more importance, and might before long be elected chief of the tribe.”
He was well pleased with this counsel, and privately took a new wife; but, in order to bring her into his wigwam without displeasing his first wife, the mother of his children, he said to her:
“Thou knowest that I can never love any other woman as tenderly as I love thee: but I have seen that the labor of taking care of me and the children is too great for thee, and I have therefore determined to take another wife, who shall be thy servant; but thou shalt be the principal one in the dwelling.”
The wife was very much distressed when she heard these words. She prayed him to reflect on their former affection—their happiness during many years—their children. She besought him not to bring this second wife into their dwelling.
In vain. The next evening the husband brought the new wife into his wigwam. [[89]]
“In the early dawn of the following morning a death song was heard on the Mississippi. A young Indian woman sat in a little canoe with her two small children, and rowed it out into the river in the direction of the falls. It was Ampatd Sapa. She sang in lamenting tones the sorrow of her heart, of her husband’s infidelity, and her determination to die. Her friends heard the song, and saw her intention, but too late to prevent it.
“Her voice was soon silenced in the roar of the fall. The boat paused for a moment on the brink of the precipice, and the next was carried over it, and vanished in the foaming deep.”
The Indians still believe that in the early dawn may be heard the lamenting song, deploring the infidelity of the husband; and they fancy that at times may be seen the mother, with the children clasped to her breast, in the misty shapes which arise from the fall around the Spirit Island.
“Roll on; my warrior’s eye hath looked upon another’s face,