To the memory of
my great grand father, See-whelh-ken, venerated chief of the Schu-ayl-p^k; the song of whose good deeds will forever mingle with the mighty roar of the falls of Swa-net^k-qah, and the mournful soughing of the mountain pine: earth’s primitive nobleman who, in peace welcomed the coming of the pale face, only to witness the seeds of destruction scattered wide among his own once strong and contented people. To him and to the crowded death huts and burial cairns of a nation is this volume most endearingly dedicated by one who ever yearns for the uplifting of her most unhappy race.