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TALE S

OF THE

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

,..-»f»y^

J^OTICE.

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r-H

(t-^

TALES

or TBI

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS,

AND

ADVENTUEES

THE EARLY SETTLERS IN AMERICA.

BY BARBARA HAWES.

SECOND EDITION.

LONDON :
JARROLD AND SONS. 47, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD.

H27

ADVERTISEMENT.

These tales are intended to give a description of the
mode of life and character of the North American
Indians. They contain anecdotes of those amongst
them who have been remarkable for their superior
talents, courage, or vices ; or, who by their exploits are
in any manner connected with the history of the
colonization of America. Amongst them will also be
found many anecdotes relative to the sufferings, perse-
verance, and ultimate success of the Anglo- American
colomsts, from the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers in
the year 1620, to the time of the Declaration of
Independence.

For historic facts the Author has chiefly depended on '
Q. S. Drake, the accurate and laborious author of a
valuable Indian chronicle; she has also consulted
Bancroft, Dwight, and Schoolcraft, authors of high
reputation ; and has drawn from various other sources,
such as, " Jackson's Civilization of the Indians," the
"American Magazine," the "Illinois Eegister," and
from some authors to whom she would have acknow-
ledged her obligations h id she known with any certainty
who they were. "^

JL 3

INTRODUCTION.

I When America was discovered by the Europeans about
Uhree hundred years ago, it was peopled by very
numerous tribes of Indians who called themselves
lii'd men. They lived by hunting and fishing, their
mode of life varying according to their situation ; those
who resided where game was plentiful lived entirely
on the produce of the chase ; whilst others in the
neighbourhood of lakes and rivers, derived their support
principally from fishing ; many tribes raised small
quantities of Indian corn * and tobacco.

The use of metals was unknown to them, so that
their huts or wigwams, as they are called, were of very
rude construction, being generally made with poles
covered with skins, bark, or earth. They also made
canoes out of the trunks of trees, which with vast
labour they hollowed with fire, and by the aid of sharp
flints. They made pottery and dried it in the sun ; and
fashioned tobacco pipes out of clay or stone ; they
dressed the skins of animals in a manner quite peculiar
to themselves, so that they remained pliable ; and with
these skins they made pouches, leggins, and mocassins,
whick they ornamented very ingeniously with the
small flexible quills of the American porcupine, dyed
with several brilliant colours.

From the introduction of intoxicating spirits, and
from the ravages of the small -pox, neither of which was
knovra. in North America till the Europeans carried
them there, many tribes of Eed men have been entirely

* In Europe callsd maixo.

IKTBODUCTIOlf.

destroyed, and those which remain are very smaU in
comparison with what they once were

Their mode of life h the same now as it was three
hmidred years ago and their character, where They have
hved far from the haunts of the white men, is unaltered
The xiidians believe in one great and good God whm
they «1 tho " Great Spirit : " they pray to him and
hank „m for his mercies, and they llf seem to Ce an
idea of a future state. Many tribes have some notion
oi rewards and punishments in a future l™e aSd no
tribe has ever been found to worship any kind rf idol
ret their Ideas of religion are very Lperfect fo, they
not only believe in bad spirits, but worship them from

l::e\rdX:^ "^ ''^y ^""''' ^^^ «-* «p''^ ^^

„J^7 "T? "'"7 ™P«"-«ti««n*' too about dreams and

EngS'sli Xr hZ ""' ""^" *''^ """^^ '«-»"'

Kevengo with an Indian is considered a duty. Christ

w"h ns if « "'•*" ""T^t ^"J"™^' ^-''f"- -™^e

^nttr^^ry ■ ^"^"""^ ''™* ""* "1 Christ. Their
giatitude likewise is great, and they pride themseive^
on never forgetting either an injuiy or a benefit

Jlaving given a short account of the mode of bfr n»rf
chanicter of the North American Indian .lllfn^
relate a number of entertaining storiea which I ha™
heard and read about them. If my young ^aderaT^
desirous of learning more of their hitorf They m^
endeavour to procure the book lately p^^blSd W
Mr. Cathn, which is full of the most^ interesting dl

C& VaU^ Tra^tr^epL:^^^^^^
thPTr «T»r.T.fc +1. • 1. v^. &^' representing theu* dresses,
tneir sports, their hunting parties, and the macnificent
scenery which surrounds them. magnmcent

CONTENTS.

[Introduction ....

A Leg:end of the Saline River .

Habits of Observation, and Knowledge of Nature

Trials of the Early Settlers

Confidence in an Indian .

Penn'sBarg-ain

Indian Gratitude

[Some Account of the Grizzly Bear
jSilouee, and Indian Superstition
[Indian Notions of Justice
JM'Doug-al and the Indian .
[The Adventures of a Rang-er
[The Adventures of an Indian WoLian
To-ta-pia and Hock-tan-lub-bee .
Arts cultivated by the North American Indians
I The Murderer's Creek .
j The Conscientious Indian .
Pontiac

The Maiden's Rock
I The Capture of Mrs. Dustori
j The Prophet of the Alleghany
! Mrs. Livermore
[Indian Hieroglyphics
Legend of the Choctaws
I The Last of the Pequots .
Some Account of the Moose
Tecumseh
Indian Children
Paugus and Chamberlain .
The Island of Yellow Sands
Civilization

Pocahontas and Captain Smith .
Courage and Generosity .
The Rifiemuu of Chippewa ,
The Pilgrim Fathers

TAOS

5
9

102

108

113

118

12'2

128

134

140

146

161

157

172

177

182

tallen

TALES

OP IHE

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

^ANT years since— long before the habitations of the
ivhite men had reached the banks of the Mississippi, a
tribe of Indians resided upon the Platte, near its junction
kith the Valine or Salt Eiver. Amongst these was one,
the chief warrior of his nation, celebrated throughout
^he neighbouriiig country for his fierce and unsparing
iisposition. For ever engaged either in plotting the
lestruction of his enemies or in leading his warriors
from viUage to village, carrying death to their inhabitants,
^nd desolation to their homes ; his name was a terror to
')oth young and old. Not a hostile settlement within
nany miles but mourned for a son or brother who had
rallen beneath his relentless arm ; not a brook but had
^-un red with the blood of his victims.

Fearful as he was to the hostile tribes he was no less
readed by his own people, who, though they gloried in
nm as their leader, shrunk from all fellowship with him.
His lodge was deserted, and even in the midst of his
lown nation he was alone ; yet one there was who never
jshumied him, never feared his violence, but who loved him
|and clung to him in spite of his rugged nature. Beau-
jtiiul and graceful as one of the fawns of the prairie, she
I had many admirers; but when the Black Wolf, for so

TALES OF THE

to dispute with so formidable ; rival ""^^ """"«'"

he?o:e7LT;?thSi%rtSi^'''"^-''i"^^''' -^

»d with a tenderness "hicTK'^ln^for 'Ld"utl

a"d G ::on!^a\ravtf 1° '""' ''^™[ge"tS!

For .any -nttiriodge™ rehetdlTh °"°''^''
of her j^entle voice nrul l^;? ^^ i ^^^^f^^^ ^^7 the sound

by her Constant and lovlu™ ares^'' But "■" T '"''''''^

2^ decline, she di^d ^^^e ISl.'t, tt^^^

-tie was alone ' Dul ha ,1+^-
he shed any tear ? We know^S T ?^ "^ ^rief ? did
would havi thouirht i>,pH°^ '/j'".'"" P™»d Mture
best feeliugs ofhu'man% " '^'^''^"^ ^y •'^'^J'-g the

womfn ilLldVlhaT;! o*""™"!' ' ^''^ ^'''«e V
to lod-e orvine- "«/;,• P"^!'"^"' who went from lodgi

The next day s#e was buried Zck Wolf ^ i'T '"
silence, and when the noisy lamentt^ionTof rt ^^ '"
who surro.mded the remains of dl t W ifln i"""™"'''
an end, he returned to his dreary home and ffr/" f.
entrance to it. The nevt ^ • ™" ™'^bade all

^'•as seen to leave the ^.7^^ "* '""^"'^ h«
pmnted as if prepared fo sorff » rt "^"^ ''™'^d "-^d
took no notice^o/rot arold hi w "Tuition. He
the place where his wffe lanmrip^' ^^K^^^^^i firmly to
face moved, his fler^evew,. ^' "»* '^ ""^cle of his

some moment^ by^thTsTde 7 r^' ^" ^''"''^^''
tnrning away froi the vi We cro ^d fb^' •"?'' '^"^

The autumn and winter =;; f ""^"d the praine.
bright spring was ran div J- ^'^^'^ ™<i ""e short

Bla^k ^^0lflaTIgZt{/^„"?ftuT7 /"■'"■"'"<"•' ''^'^
the hairy «^«1„, of t-- - • " ' '^^Smff with him

the smote oFs: tir raTLr !i^j"i^ >>-? >

lodge,andai;rgernro?7urrwiiS

lit.

|een
M

iwat

fcart

khe!

l:litt€

;^onij

low (

bur

liles

^ear,

ere

Pglit

leard

leatui

jjowar

lakii

furj

)ver,

land ]

)ther

omai

arrio

ife.

^tomah

^Butw

Ge-wo

-too he

fand h

^of tht

He loo

of the

could i

intention of
tardy enough

his wife, and
^n his nature
'fore indulged
I tiger tamed,
; unbounded,
^y the sound
^^as softened
change came
a, she grew
last, after a
r sorrowiug

' grief ? did
raud nature
traying the

village by
from lodge
no more /"
tood by in
e mourners
ed were at
forbade all
nn-rise he
rmed and
itiou. He
i firmly to
scle of his
paused for
and then
irie.

the short
ler, when
with him
' hung in
ire white

NOETH AMEEICAN INDIANS. 3

\t He had travelled many miles over the prairie he had
leen the sun set m the Great waters, he had journie'd to the
md of the earth. He was weary, and threw himself on
he grass; he slept heavily and long, but at length was
.vakened by the low wailing voice of a woman. He
tarted up, the moon shone clear, and by its li^-ht he
.eheld an aged and ghastly hag who was brandishing a
:littermg knife over the head of a beautiful yo^^
roman who seemed to implore her mercy ^

Black Wolf was amazed. VVHio could these women be ?
ow could they have come to this lone spot, and at this
x)ur of the night ? There was no villag^ within twenty
iiles of the place: there could be no hunting party
ear or he would have discovered it. He drew nearer
^ them but they seemed unconscious of his presence

ere they human beings, or were they the spirits of
ght and darkness, of whom Black Wolf had often

matures of the younger woman, her back was turned
towards him. She had sprung on her feet, and was
nakmg desperate efforts to get possession of the ki^e
furious s ruggle ensued, but in a few moments it Vas
^ver the old hag was victorious j twisting her withered
^and m the long glossy hair of her victim, she raised the
.ther and prepared to strike, but as the scream^!
.Oman turned away, the light fell on her face and t^f
arrior beheld with horror the features of his departed
He. In an instant he sprung forward, seized his
, omahawk and struck the fiendish woman to^he ground
,But when he turned to clasp the form of his bS
Ge-won.ga to his bosom, she was gone ! the frightful W
too had disappeared, their wild shrieks were silenced^
land he heard nothing but the ripple ol?"hr^
I of the Great waters as they beat upon the shorp
i He looked around the full moon gilded tL waW ^s
of the prairie ; but a^ far as his eye . .uld rZ^h"
coula see no other object-nothing but a large' rock of
pure white salt, and the piece which in his ra|e he had
split from It with his tomahawk. He nowTought 1

B 2

TALES OF THE

lilt

"■■'H!i

home to his tribe as a convincing, proof of wUi- T,n i, J

that the\ol i :tiif in custot 7t7' J"""' ""^M
that the only naeans of obtai^ any portLilT'- '^i
frighten awav her anii-it K„ »„'' ""•'.P"™™ ot it, is tol

wal clubs and otherwLls T"^.K "*' *'*'' ^'"M
tribes. ^ "''''^ '^"^"^^* ^^"^bers of the Indian

?ene
leces
?hej
ff na
fight,
meh
dth'-
?am1
^hara
istn
tUth<
jame
Is if ^
>ccur]
^f ad
latuK
the st(
rivet ;
loeR, i
itep ti
identii
*he pl(
The
great ;
-of the
with t
directl
in sun
[the dij

Mfwiiite 1
[they ca

IfOBTH AMEBICAN INDIANS.

of what he had
long the Indians
• They believe
old squaw, and
'tion of it, is to
ows with their
' reason, before
10 ground with
nsidered to be
guardian of the
ley imagine she
^ill resign her
rstition,though
fs, is devoutly
of the Indian

N early acquired habit of constant attention to every

!ene and accident that occurs in the woods must

ecessarily make the Indians pretty good naturalists.

hey are m general much more familiar with the obiecta

It nature than the white men. Their senses of hearing

pght, and smell, are perfectly astonishing. In then-

•^u •L^?'^?^"'^^^ *^^^ ^^^'® ^^^^ themselves familiar
ith the habits of birds, beasts, and reptHes; they have
iamt their names and can describe their peculiar
:haracteristics with great accuracy. Listen to a hunter
ust returned from the chase and you will hear him describe
U the arts and wiles which he used in approaching his
;ame with a clearness which would almost make you feel
-s it you had been with him. Every little incident that
•ccurred such as the rustling of a leaf or the snapping
►t a dry twig m his cautious approach, is mentioned so
laturally, and with so much simplicity in the progress of
the Story, that although no sportsman, it cannot fail to
I ivet your attention. Tou seem to see the deer as he
^oes, to examine the locaHties, to steal on him step by
|tep till you are within rifle shot of him, you be^mi
identihed with the narrator— in uhort you enjoy some of
the jpleasures of the chase without any of the fatigue

Ihe geographical knowledge too of the Indians is very
great; not the knowledge of maps, for they have nothing
ot the kind to aid them, but their practical acquaintance
'^}^^ ^^\^^^^p ^^^^t thej inhabit. Thev can steer
directly through the woods m cloudy weather as weU as
in sunshine to the place they wish to go to though at
|the distance of two or three hundred miles; and wl^en
j^viiite men express their astonishment, or enquire how
phey can find the shortest path to a distant point with so

. B 3

TALES OP THE

a^^ r-sr.:t:i- Aft:-:

moon bv nartiVnlo,. ^^ <"stmguish the phases of the I
moon, LfmitlT""''' ''^"'*^"'8 ""^'""'". ^oZl

wh!2r S"K "on^Z^T^ f«t «>eig"on.nee which ]
selves are ^^l^ZiZf'^V^l:''''^^ '^ "^'""l
camp one dark niaht shot -m T„^ , '" """ ''''"' »' Ws i

wo/which had &5 befo^'eSi ^ir*'"'"^ '* '"' " I
and eaten up all the meat TJ.» ^„ A , " enoamp,„cnt I
ded havingirawled b^oktnk^r f ' *''??'' """^""y «'<'un. I

of a mile, »2d muc^±rrtt''°''^''''"^^^'''"«« I
so as he suspected that tW Lf i, ? T"*''' "">'' ">« more I
?f malice Wards the Mans "^ ''•'''" '"'"™"<"1 «"*
importance, and the off™ d^" i '''"^ " ™™ "^ ^"me ,
t^Ppei^ he sent apa^Tld^ L ^'""' ^'"'^'' '""'
matter, upon which the n?»„j"?," ^I""''' '"to the
liad kiUed the dot heUr T**""^ confessed that he '^

Indians asked him VetWhf c"^-! i"? " ^°"'- ^''^
cnce between the stTnfor t. °^^ "2* ''''" t^e differ-

of a dog, let thrniXe e™"- daf k1 "Tr"" f"*^ *''»*
answered that he could not ™^ ^T / ., ^^^ *'"*« man
no man alive could do "'^''•''u'''', *'"'* "^^ Relieved
Indians burst Tut Ito fauUter^'^il *' •" "'"''<' P-^^^ »f
whites, and their wan? "u in * t ■^°"f'^ "^^^'^
m^ter, and the offence 1 fr"ei; forfe''"'" ''°'°'"«" -

.uSrZrif^e'ittrTr '™' "' ^''"■-^^Pe-ble
drawing near to antn'r^^s IZtr "the%nd "*"• .^"
TOUT as much as nos^^le tTT •'^' , , '''.°* ''"'^ea-
Soinetimes they scatter th»„ i T""^ *''«''• t^ofa-
tances from e2h ntW 1 '^'^'?^ ■** considerable dis-

at night whef thejw S "7!' T*'"? '>»"''^«''
march in Indian nl S • •^* o*®"" *'mes they 1

treadine c^S- ' , "= '"''' "^ ''"hind the nther '
-dmg carefuL^ m each other's footsteps so that the'r

nd reply, '' Hoav
e it is we want

NORTH AMEBICAN INDIANS.

T limited, thej
■ take notice ofi
3 phases of the'
3w moon, round ^

ignorance which
ich they them-
nan had at his
listaking it for a \
he encampment |
mortally woun- ;
? at the distance |
', and the more I
committed out
'' man of some ,
)!• hunter and I
quire into the
fessed that he
a wol£ The j
?ar the differ- J
vvolf and that
'he white man
t he believed
hole party of
)rance of the
ud common a

indispensable
lunter. On
dians endea-
;heir tracks,
iderable dis-
ing however
times they
1 the other
that their ;

umber cannot be known by the prints of their feet
.s they get nearer to the enemy, the more attentive thev
.re in choosmg hard, stony ground on which human
^otsteps leave no impression ; soft earth, and even dry
rrass 18 studiously avoided, for the appearance of the
rrass having been trodden on might lead to detection ;
he bharpness and quickness of the Indian's sight being
10 great that any signs of this sort never escape their
»bservation. ^

It is certain that the Indians, by foot-prints and by

.ther marks perceptible to themselves alone can discover

lot only that men have passed through a particular path

in the wood, but they can discriminate to what nation

hose men belong and whether they be their friends or

Ins'tirTfi. .J^h^f«ll«r^ anecdote is one of many

instances of their extraordinary sagacity in this respect.

In the beginning of the summer of 1755, a shocking

ZfllT '°"^^,^**^d by/ Pa^ty of Indians on fourteen

hite settlers, withm a few miles of Shamokin The

lurvivmg whites, in their rage, were determined to take

evenge on a Deleware Indian whom they happened to

brt.T' tt' ^P"*'>.* ^'^^ ^^^ always been considered
tlrl AA T^ ^T^^- ^^™S had any knowledge of the
wicked deed, and mamtained that his nation was incapa-

adHilTri^Tr" ^T^.^ ^^^^^^ ^^ ^ ^'^^ of peace;
|addmg, that he believed it was the act of some licked

avimgoes or Iroquois, whose custom it M^as to involve
Ir oZf^'Ti'' ""^'^ ^V^'^ treacherous actions; and
Mrf^' ' ^^^yr^li ^^^ him a party to accompany
,hmi, to go m quest of the murderers" whom he was sure

mo.T ^T^^'' ¥ ^^^ P'"^*' «^ th^i^ feet and other
marks well known to him.

wl^^i!. f'^'^f ^'^«, accepted, and he led a party of
whites towards a rocky mountain where not one of those
^ ho accompanied him was able to discover a single
track; nor did they believe that man had ever trodden
upon .his ground, when they frequentlv had to lean n...
crevices or crawl along the edges of a precipice. They
began to thmk that the Indian had led them across this
rugged mountain in order to give the enemy time to

TALES OF THE

i|.capp,n,ndtlirpfltcnedhim withdcatli the instant tliPv
H .ouU be iuUy e.,nvin«..l of tl„. fraud, l^rtle i„ S
made them pere«vo that the lichen on the reek had been
trodden down by the weight of a Inanan fooHlm t^bble
l.ad been ren.oved fron, the «oil „n whi,.h thev lav that
an m«eet had be™ crushed, and that in ., ULuW
place an Indian's blanket had trailed in the dust so a»
to sweep ,t away; all this he saw as he walked alon^
without even stoppiiifj f„r a moment. ^

At length arriving at a place where the earthwas soft
he found trom the tracks that the enemy w-as 2ht in
number, and from the freshness of the^ tbotmarks 1 e
eonclude^ that they must be encamped atnoTreat de
tance. This proved to be true, for tL following day th<;
Indians were seen encamped, some lying down asleen
and others cooking by a little fire. ' ^ ^'^'"'^'

comSions,^^'?he*.^^ is^^r etrnT" nl"; 'l "*'""?^^
but dastardly Mingoes, t iXlZ^ouT th^ey Z ^n^'Z
ffilTe T"^ 'f ^ " «""• '°'*'™ hou^smore thT
Wk them " T *rf '«?•»"<• ^™ ^'ill go up and tomZ
hawk them. But the white men were overcome with
fear, and did not choose to follow this advice bSur^ed
him to lead them back by the nearest way Th she^M

TuZt^frC T.' "•' ""^ ""' aW surjris'ed
tL T ™™™' *o "ear them assert that the number of
the enemy so far exceeded that of their own dX that
they did not venture to discover themselves ^ ^

LS^tf-Sn-r^itS'rtltteS^^^^^

Iw-rm^bt S'rIS til^ttTi^^
sodden wood that cannot be burnt; but whiStoiltn^

civniz,ett men can distinguish no s gns of their having
ever been crossed before, the «ruidfi\te»d;i- f^i™ "f

deit" ^'■'"'J^fr '"'"'^ apparent-faeaitV 'a^d ';;nfi.'
deuce as au English gentleman would a turnpike roX

NORTH AMEnrCAN INDIANS.

3 instant they
^ut the Indian
rock had been
t, that pebbles
they hiy, tlmt
)ne particular
lie duHt so as
walked along

arthVas soft,
was eight in
footmarks he
no great dis-
wing day the
down asleep,

is astonished
f my nation,
y are in our
rs more they
ip and toma-
ercome with
!e, but urged
This he did
tie surprised
e number of
a party that

) sometimes
st continent
without the
nder travel-
acountered ;
drunk, and
lilst toiling
3 in which
beir having
follows an
and confi-
ike road.

irials of tk OEatlir Settlers.

Mrs. Heard. — Frances Nobli

About two hundred years ago a few lonely farm-houses
scattered over a most unpromising surface of rough
ro^ks on the bleak wild shores of New Hampshire,
called themselves a village and were incorporated under
the Indian name of Cocheco ; which name, however, was
soon after changed for that of Dover. Prom its settle-
ment till the year 1675, its industrious inhabitants
appear to have lived generally in peace with the savages
who wandered in the neighborhood. But the treacherous
character of the Indians was too well known to allow any
village to be without its little stockade and some well
garrisoned houses ; or perhaps the goodly men of Dover
had a secret misgiving that the Indians had suffered some
wrong at their hands ; that they had a little over-reached
their red brethren in their bargains, as their worthy
neighbours of Springfield did, when they purchased nine
square miles for a wheelbarrow. But a history of wrongs
and sufferings which could only be read by those
who committed them must be an unwelcome record, so
no such journal was kept.

Who were tht first aggressors, or what the provocations
on either side were, cannot now be decided; but at
about the time we have mentioned the Indians became
more troublesome than usual, now and then entering an

,..., liv-ij^iii^ vnvMiiuv^ir ua vcxV xiCCiV to

whatever they could lay their hands on ; nor did they

TALES OF THE

fate. "- 8f»'"«l, ">i<l the r.,,11 sl,„rcd the same

lessod to l„. at peace w th thtv \- i^*"* ?'"'""'" P™-

fortfaith, a «ael, .,; o eSnamo! m'"'^ "ppoaranee .ff
I'lilian women ai)nlie,l tn M„" ii, *''""""'"" '*' '"'<' two

reason that thev W,l tl ^ lortifled, ^ving f„r a

Mohawks wC thov ha r„ff'"l*'I"-'"t,"'' «"»'■ '>OHtile
«l8o obtained admittance M?'''"'' ^^'' «1""»» '""l
Mrs. Heard, a wiXw )„,t i*'" San-,.soned house of
with son,e of her cMdrin-to Po'^ '^^ "b^™* on a visit
artful pretence of tradW „fe T"'"' ' »"'' ""'^•'^ the
tnved to Ret into every "SrZ Z *,*" 'I""'™ ''»'' <•<>"-
ewept one whose rZrf en ^-"^ '!""* "' t^e village
adm/t such snsplTo„r.uest; w"' "1?^*^^ ^"'Jd »»*
Indians were hosn f, llf . .■" '" ^^^ evening, The
»d whilst rt='^^^^^^^^^^^ by Major ^^aldron!

w.th an air of 'Ciliarit "bT,"''°^ *. ^"''i *» him
would you do if TtS'T^.?™*'''^'' Waldron, what
attack vou?" to wh ch f e irlT /'?.*<> *=»"'« ""d
would field up his li tie fi„ P""H '""ghing, "That he

armed men." ^AnV;,,*:,^^*''" ""'' »««omble a hundred
retire to rest, when one rfVe'"""*^ ^' ^"^ '''^""t to
thegates.andabodvofll-l' fl^T.^*'"''*'''''/ opened
immediately rushed^un^ri "' *""* ''«™ Preconcerted

in which the "ewX "id Z' > "^'"^ '''"" "^^^'^ ™«^
and defended himTelf Wl. ¥• ^^ ^"'^^^ ^i^ sword
Indians before hrfrorroom 'to "^"'"^''"' ''"^^ 'be
bers increased, and oTwretch IT'"',.''^* .*'"'" ""'"■
old soldier knocked himX™ wfh Wl'':""' *be j.o.r
now fell upon him at onceTnll f " ^""^-f^*' ^^^^^
cruelly murdered ^th the ^e"? ofT '?"*''^"'* ^e was
bouse set on Sre "* '™ ^"mily. and the

a tg^rtf '::;^-<^-<J' -th her three sons and

• ■ "*"" i'^sons m the party, was

IfOETn AMERICAN INDIANS.

returning: from Portsmouth. When tboy came near
Dover they mmi alarmed by the noi8i> of Uriu^ and the
warvvhoop, howling, shouting, and roaring, according to
the Indian manner of making -m assault. The party
landed at about a furlong from JMajor Waldrou's garrison,
and hu«tening up the hill tliey soon came in sight of
IMrs. Heard's house, where they saw a great many lights
at the windows, which they imagincxl the English'had S(!t
up for the purpose of directing those who might seek a
refuge tl ere. Coming to the gate, they knocked and
called, but no answer was given. They th(>n cried out
Ftill louder, reproaching tho>*e within with their unkind-
n. sa. Still no answer was returned, and they began to
fear that all was not well. One of Mrs. Heard's sons now
climbed the wall, and looking over it, discovered an
Indian with a pistol in his hand in the entry. Great
consternation now seized on the unfortunate lady, and
sinking down on the earth she desired her chilclren to
shift for themselves in the best manner they could, for
they were young and strong, while she determined to
remain where she was and meet death on the spot.

Her children finding it impossible to carry her with
them, and being earnestly desired by her to flee, with
heavy hearts obeyed her command. In a very short
time, however, she began to recover her strength and
spirit, and betook herself to the garden where there
were a great many large and thick spreading berberry
bushes, amongst which she hid herself She had nqt
lam there long before she was discovered by the same
Indian whom her son had seen ; he came up to her,
looked steadfastly at her, but did not speak. Expecting
nothing less than instant death, she bid him iire the
pistol that he held in his hand ; but he told her he was
come to save her life, and showed her a deep scar on his
arm, by which she instantly recognized him for a young
Indian whom she had, thirteen years before, secreted in
her house and thereby saved his life. He advised her

II possible to cross thp tivpt-. T^nf afi-ar, TvioT,,. „^«„^^

lul attempts she was obliged to give it up, and returned

ill

TALES OF THE

wC*L''^:™S^^^^^^^^^^^^^ *■>« berbery bushes.

Having thus wnmW' 1. ^"^ss decamped,
had the happ"er?„td fhST"''"'™'" *struction. she
found a safe retreat and trt """ 'T ""<* daughter had
preserved. This shl il f "'?" '""• •'""s" had been

«^ the gratefu? iVdtlZ stetad''' *° ft '"''"-"
Tiiouxrh often nnc\ «i. 1 ^^e iiad once sheltered.

ned to remainin her oZ Lf ^'"'™°"th, she determi-
duty to do so, for Tf X aba I'Tl f''' '' ""^ her
hours in Dover would be in ,tf''/'' ^*''" ^""^ °«gh.
attacks of the Indians. Pew ' T '' > '^''^"' ^^^ 'he
shown more real conraJLT^-^f^'"'^' '^""'J have
whole years sueceediSt/n "in k'ti'"''^'^'''' f"'' ten
and Major WaldrofSered nhr' 7^^"■■P"^''''
deiended her little fortrw^ 7 • ' . '!, ^ ™d heroically
harassing attacks of atSyir *'" '''°'"^' '"-=''-*°'

descended fromP;;:''r,;:'"f '™1'^ ? ^^ ^-g-and
some faithful recfrds o' Ve cru,^f> 7^« ^"^'^ >^ot possess
pr'vatious endured bv tl,^;! f "<*' ™ff^™gs and horrible
eourage and heroic Sde wTT' .""? "^ '''^ faring

New England ladies may ^^''^'^1''''^"^'*^^
with no more feir nf .„ • • ™ at home at ease "

the ladies in fiegr„tt Srk "w". "' ^'^ MansThan
years ago, and efen at a mu^h let, dT T* '? " ''""dred
hving in thinly peopled r^t'fi''™*^™^, families

f bbed, and eU Xrired W j'''^^ ^''" *"<''^«d,
Indians. n-uraered by wandermg parties of

rivS Ken-nXec'a^'cil't^: mV/ «™° ^and in the
family. One of h.'^EhtTr^ ""'* ''■^ wife and

Noble of Portsmou h in New Kn"' T™'^ *" " ^•••
her husband and seven ntjM Hampshire, and she with

There were also in hetousef son Tp^ T**" "-"^ ^^ther
»yo„ng lady named Mary Holme^s anTr ^''*•^''"'''

S::;Tr«^ wei^rtifleTLTrt tTrri?',

---ants fi.„.a ,„e ,u^^, ^^ j^^^ who, neverth^

rberry bushes,
)ed.

Bstruction, she
daughter had
use had been
the influence
sheltered,
ace herself in
she determi-
it it was her
f good neigh-
'ger from the
would liave
t^ho for ten
^as surprised
i heroicallj
'st incessant

ew England
not possess

md horrible
the daring

were borne.

B at ease,"

idians than
a hundred

od, families

L attacked,

parties of

nd in the
' wife and
to a Mr.
1 she with
fir father.
Tiidden's,
i-servant.

, .^. Liib

neverthe-

NOETH AMEBICAN INDIANS.

less were accustomed to visit Captain "Whidden for
pur2)oses of trade.

One morning a little after daybreak two of Mr. Noble's
little boys went out of the garrison and left the gate
open. The Indians who had been on the watch for a
favourable opportunity for several days, now rushed in
in a large body, and the inhabitants discovered that the
enemy was upon them and there was no escape. It may
be asked what it was that provoked this assault in a
time of peace ; but the question cannot be satisfactorily
answered. It often happened that the people who were
surprised knew no reason why they were so dealt with
—the injury for which they suffered might have been
committed by their ancestors long before they existed ;
or, as it probably was in the present instance, the hope'
of making money by selling their captives as slaves or
by getting a good ransom for them, induced them to
commit these atrocities.

Mr. Noble and his man-servant met the Indians at the
head of the stairs and fired at them, wounding one in the
arm. The Indians did not return the fire, but seized Mr.
Noble, his wife and five children, young Whidden and
Mary Holmes ; the servant and two boys escaped. The
captives were immediately carried to the water side
bound, and left in charge of a party whilst tlic others re-
turned to the garrison, and after they had plundered it
of all the silver and gold they could find, and as much
provision as they chose, set fire to the barn and went
back to their companions and the prisoners. All this
was done in little more than an hour, and during that
time Captain Whidden, who was aged and infirm, had
with his wi^e concealed himself in a closet in the cellar.
Having collected their captives and plunder, they imme-
diately left the island and journeyed towards Canada. On
their march they were tolerably kind, after their rough
fashion, to the children ; but one of them who was ill
when she was torn from her father's house, died on the
road. The rest after a most wearisome journey on foot,
arrived safely in Canada, and were variously disposed of!

TALES or THE

were alloLd to see e^ch'otlt/w),' i'""'" '""'"''' ^^^Y

brought up „i the aame manner as thei'Tofrn S ^
two others with youug WJiidden anrl Mnl u r°'

t*!|:fepr^ KorTtLraT:^ - '"
^^nt^Sf. r th^i-ti: tC^i^J-t ~

her one day to the house of Monsieur d!%„".f *""''
wealthy merehaut of that c ty H s wife « „ %'^'?'^' "*
the kitchen to see a nnn, Siu • f .^ '"'^ <"*l'<^'i ">*«>
crawling on the til floo° Th ','t"? "5 ™S' '^"'1 di^

lost a ekd^f th""'^,ge W^':llVn''\"''*'1^^
th« reason w^as more dispofrd/o loTe Ind to^treuP' f^
sufferings of children than she wm.'ld 11 ^ °? *''''
been. She noticed the cUld kinZ ™/t r?**- ^''™
. arms. The Indians offered to seU the ^fw" '^ "" ^•'
ahe declined buying, not choos ng to make'su^hT' '"*
chase m the absence of her husband. The wome/w;
the house, but not without bavins observl?! iU T /'
fondness with which the Prenel?hdv bnTf , ! ^^'"^?'
child; they slept on the pavZS the SeTl t
door, but poor Frances who had a;r^in L„!i Z^ •
of kindnes^ could not be qmetedT her rl^ nr"'
and her incessant cries disturbed the sleen of Ldn"'''
de Sainte Auee. The next fl»,r ™ ?t -P Madame

Auge's returl the I^C t^^ TalkdTtTth'^ l'"^'"
and Frances was purchased 7 for what s^m 1 ''""f!
never learn, as her Freuck «X as she w»^ 7,"'i'
alvvays refused to answer questions ™th:tsurect'
Frances was treatpd ^^^ +1^^ - ^- ' ^ • , -J^^^-

worthy couple, and .o-on iear^^cfirc^^itt^^^^^

IfOETH AMERICAN IJTDIANS.

parents; and when her own father and mother were
about to return home, having as it has been stated been
ransomed, and came to bid her farewell, no instinct
taught her to return their embraces, but she ran for pro-
tection to her French mother.

Fanny was educated in the Eoman Catholic religion
and baptized by the name of Eleonore ; and though this
was another source of vexation to Mr. and Mrs. Noble
they had the satisfaction of knowing that their child
was in the hands of conscientious and kind people.

It was by no means an uncommon thing at this time
for the government of the dilFerent New England States
to employ persons to seek for captives in Canada, and
when Fanny was between four and five years of age, a
man named Wheelwright, seeing her playing near Mon-
sieur de Sainte Auge's house, enticed her to get on his
sleigh and carried her off to the Three Eivers. He then
told lier that a relation of her father's would come for
her in a few days and take her back to Montreal, but
the next day the same old squaw who had taken money
for her from Madame de Sainte Auge came in a sleigh
and carried her away to St. Fran9ois. The poor child
was now old enough to be aware of her miserable situa-
tion, and she wept bitterly at her separation from her
French parents. She entreated the Indians to take her
back, and this is what they always intended to do, but
expecting again to be paid for their wickedness, they
acted with great cunning. To amuse and pacify her for
a while, they gave her Indian toys, curious drawings of
deer, and bears and wolves on birch bark ; and wrapping
lier in warm furs, took her out with them on the snow
When she had been with them a fortnight they let her
run into the house of a French priest ; and, just as they
expected, he asked her a great many questions. She told
him that her name was Eleonore de Sainte Auge, and
that her papa and mamma lived at Montreal, and that
she wished very much to go back to them. Whilst she '
was at St. Francois, she saw her brother Joseph JN'oble v
who had not been sold in Canada but who still lived '

•

TALES or THE

iiJii

with the I^dlans. He was several years older than his
little sister, and having lived four years with savages, had
become almost as disagreeable in manners and appearance
as they were. Little Frances would not call him brother
nor go near hun, for she felt a great aversion towards the
Indians.

Not long after Frances had seen and talked to the
French priest, a trusty servant arrived who had been
sent by Monsieur de Sainte Auge with a sum of monev
to redeem his little adopted daughter ; and to her great
delight she was once more restored to her happy home
m Montreal She was now watched with very great
care, for Madame de Sainte Auge was in constant dread
either that the Indians should kidnap the child and seU
Her lor a slave where she would never again hear of her
or that her own parents would take eftectual means of
reclaiming their lost child. She was rarely out of her
mamma's sight by day, and at night slept so near to her
that she could hear if any thing disturbed her

One morning when Monsieur de Sainte Auge, his wife
and several of the servants were at mass, little Frances'
or rather Eleonore, as she was then called, was sent to a
large room at the top of the house to play with another
little girl, and the nurse who attended them was strictly
charged on no account to aUow them to show themselves
at the lower windows. The childi.^n, however, became
weary of the eonfinement to one room, and the servant
out ol foohsh indulgence allowed them to run all over
the house. Little Eleonore had placed herself at the
drawmg-room window, and was eagerly watching the
sleighs as they flew past, and listening with delight to the
merry gmgle of the brass bells with which the curly,
coated Canachan horses were decked. But on a sudden she
.jumped off the chair on which she stood, ran to the top of
the house as fast as she coidd, regained her great empty
room, and locked herself in. Here she remained till the
voice of her mother assured her that she was in safety ,
^l^^^'l^f\^'^^^^^ as to the. cause of this sudden fright
she told Madame de Sainte Auge, that she had recognised

NORTH AMEBIC AN INDIANS.

the features of the dreadful old squaw who had kept
her at St. rrau9ois, amongst a party of Indians who
passed the windows ; and dreading that she was coming
to take her away, she fled and locked herself up.

A short time after this Eleonore was sent to a boarding
school attached to a nunnery in Montreal ; here she was
very happy, she frequently saw her French parents, as
we must call them, and she had several companions of
her own age to whom she became attached. Her
brother Joseph who still lived with the St. rran9oi3
tribe of Indians, came one day to visit her ; he was
dressed with a strange mixture of finery and discomfort,
his hair was long and ragged, his arms and legs were bare
and dirty, but he had necklaces and brooches in abun-
dance. He brought Eleonore a present of a beautiful
young fawn, an Lidian grass basket filled with cran-
berries, and a great cake of maple sugar. Eleonore was
delighted with the fawn and much pleased with poor
Joseph's other gifts, but she did not like speaking to
him, and did not feel comfortable till he was gone — in
fact she had a great horror of the Indians and would
have liked much better that neither they nor Joseph
should know where she was.

At this school Eleonore lived very happily till she was
fourteen. The teachers were what are called half nims,
who were allowed to go out and in at pleasure, and she
had quite as much liberty as she wished. But now a new
trial awaited her ; one day, when she was sewing in the
large parlour of the 'nunnery with several of the nuns
and her young companions, she was equally surprised and
terrified by the entrance of a strange man, who with a
loud distinct voice,, said " that he was come from Maine
with authority from the governor to take back to her
parents in Swan Island, the captive Frances Noble."

Poor Eleonore ! she knew no parents than Monsieur
and Madame de Sainte Auge! She knew no other
lan^age than French, which she had learned from them
when they taught her to call them papa and mamma;

TALES OF THE

but she did know that she was not really their daughter
and that her real name was Noble. '

Frances was too timid to speak for herself; but the
ladies in the nunnery remonstrated, and with civility
entreated the man not to molest Mademoiselle, and to
leave the house. But Arnold was not to be diverted
from his purpose. He had frequently been employed on
snmlar missions, and had sliowu himself well calculated
for the employment. He was secret, persevering, and
resolute ; he had already been some days in Montreal
without exciting any suspicion of his business. He had
ascertained where the captive was to be found, he had
procured the necessary powers to secure her, and he had
now made his ap])roach to the nunnery witli a serc^eant
and a file of soldiers. *

The nuns were very unwilling to give up their pupil ;
they were attached to her, they were afraid of offending
Monsieur de Sainte Auge, and they were quite uncertain
as to the truth of Arnold's story ; they therefore pro-
longed the time as much as possible, and sent word to
Monsieur de Sainte Auge what had occurred, hoping
that he would be able to detain his adopted daughter.
But Arnold did not choose to wait for his arrival ; he
again claimed Frances Noble in the Grovernor's name,
adding that if she were not immediately given up to him'
he must order his soldiers to take her 'from the nuniierv
by force. The nuns dared not refuse, and' Frances was
delivered up to him. She accompanied Arnold to the
gate, but as she parted with her companions and the
nuns who had been so kind to her, and felt herself in the
power of a strange man and a party of soldiers, she was
overwhelmed with fear and sorrow, and she sunk on the
ground.

The unusual sight of soldiers at the gates of the
nunnery had already caused a crowd to collect, and now
the cries and lamentations which the unfortunate girl
uttered, attracted several well-dressed people to the
place, and amongst tliem an English officer, who as soon
as he understood the cause of the disturbance, in a kind

NOETH AMEEICAN INDIANS.

daughter,

but the
1 civility
e, and to

diverted
)loyed on
alculated
•iiig, and
Montreal

He had

, he had

id he had

sergeant

ir pupil;
Dffending
iiicertain
Pore pro-
word to
, hoping
laughter,
ival ; he
's name,
) to bim,
nuniierv
iices was
I to the
and the
If in the
she was
k on the

of the
lid now
ate girl

to the

as soon

1 a kind

and respectful manner told her that he would walk with
her to Monsieur de Sainte Auge's house, that the soldiers
should be dismissed, and that no injury .should befal
her.

Her French parents well knew that they could no
longer detain her. The grief that they felt at parting
with her was quite equal to hers, but they knew it must
be, and they tried to soothe and calm her. Captain
M'Clure, the English officer, engaged to accompany her
with his wife as far as Swan Island, and promised they
would not leave her till they saw her safe in the hands of
her own parents. She was allowed to stay till the next
day with Madame de Sainte Auge.

That next day was one of great sorrow to the father,
mother, and adopted child. Frances was loaded with
parting gifts, and many were the assurances that they
should never forget each other.

With a sorrowful heart Frances now went down the
river to Quebec with Captain and Mrs. M'Clure, and
after staying there a few days she sailed with them for
Boston. Here she found her father who had come to
meet her ; and bidding farewell to the kind friends who
had so benevolently protected her, she set out for her
native little island in the Kennebec. It was some time
before she could accustom herself to the great change
which she experienced ; but after a few years she became
as much a New Englander as if she had never been out
of Maine. She retained an affectionate and grateful
recollection of her French father and mother, as she liked
to call them, as long as she lived. After the death of
her own. parents, which took place when she was still
very young, she honourably maintained herself by teach-
ing, for which she was well qualified by the excellent
education she had received in Canada. When she was
about twenty-two years of age, she became acquainted
with a respectable gentleman of good property, named
^j'litj.Lc, vviium cxic iiiaiiicu, unu. vvii/ii vviiuiii, iiitui" Ku many
troubles and trials, she lived happily at Newfields in
Maine till her death, which took place in September,
1819. c2

TALES or THE

;

Cijufiititce k an InWun,

(VJ*

That part of the country round the thriving town of
Utica, in the state of New York, and through which a
rad-road now runs, was formerly called Whitesborough,
and there is now a small town joining Utica so called. The
first settler in that part of the country was a Mr. White,
after whom the place was named. At the time we speak
of, there were numerous Indians living in the neighbour-
hood ; with them he had several interviews, and mutual
promises of friendship were exchanged. He also
smoked the pipe of peace with them, to confirm the
contract more solemnly.

Still the Indians were suspicious. "The white men,"
said they, " are deceitful, and we must have some proof
of his sincerity."

Accordingly, one evening, during Mr. White's absence
from home, three Indians went to his house. At first,
Mrs. White and her children were much alarmed, but on
perceiving one of the Indians to be Shen-an-do-ah, whom
they knew to be a mild, humane man, their fear was in
some degree quieted. On entering the house, they
addressed Mrs. White, saying, " We are come to ask you
for your little daughter Jane, that we may take her
home with us to-night."

Such a request might well startle the good woman;
she knew not what answer to give. To refuse might, she
feared, excite their anger ; to grant their request might
hazard the liberty or even the life of her child.

Luckily at this moment, whilst the Indians were
waiting for a reply, Mr. White, the father of the child,
came in. The request was repeated to him., and he had
sufficient presence of mind to grant it, instantly and
cheerfully.

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

town of
I which a
sboroujTfh,
led. The
r. White,
we speak
eighbour-
d mutual
He also
ifirm the

te men,"
me proof

3 absence
At first,
d, but on
ih, whom
ir was in
ise, they
) ask you
take her

woman ;
light, she
st might

rus were
he child,
i he h.id,
itly and

The mother was overwhelmed with surprise, and felt
all the horror that can be conceived ; but she was silent,
for she knew it would be vain to resist. The little girl
was fetched, and delivered to the Indians, who Uved
about ten or twelve miles off.

Sheii-an-do-ah took the child bv the hand, and led her
away through the woods, having "first said to her father,
"To-morrow, when the sun is high in the heavens, we
will bring her back."

Mrs. White had often heard that the Indians were
treacherous, and she well knew they were cruel; she
therefore looked upon her little daughter as lost, and
considered that she was given as a kind of sacrifice to
save the family.

Mr. White endeavoured to comfort her, for he felt
assured that his child would be brought safely back the
following morning. To the poor mother the night was
long and sleepless ; her anxiety became ^eater as the
promised time approached. Alreadv she imagined that
the Indians would keep their word, and indeed brin<^
back the child, but she fully believed that they would not
bring her back alive. She watched the sun with a beating
heart, and just when it seemed at the highest point of
the heavens, she cried out to* her husband, "there
they are ! "

Shen-an-do-ah and his companions were faithful to
their promise ; they now came back with the little Jane,
who, smiling with delight, was decked out in all the
finery that an Indian wigwam could furnish— necklaces
of shells, dyed feathers, and moccassins beautifully worked
with porcupine quills. She was delighted with her visit
and with her presents.

The efiect of Mr. White's confidence was just what
might be expected. From this time the Indians were
his friends ; had he acted with timidity, and refused to
let his child visit them, they would have had no confi-
dence in him.

Sheti-an-do-ah was an Oneida chief of some celebrity,
having fought on the side of the Americans, in the

TALES OF THE

Revolutionary war. He lived to be a hundred years old
and though in his youth he was very wild, and addicted
to drunkenness, yet by the force of his own good sense,
and the benevolent exhortations of a Christian niissionary
he lived a reformed man for more than sixty years.* He
was intrepid in war, but mild and friendly in the time of
peace. His vigilance once preserved the infant settle-
ments of the German flats (on the Mohawk . from beinjr
cruelly massacred by a tribe of hostile Indians; his
influence brought his own tribe to assist the Americans
and his many Inendly actions in their behalf gained for
him among the Indian tribes, the appeUation of the
White man's iriend."

To one who went to see him a short time before his
death, he thus expressed himself; '• I am an aged hem-
lock—the winds of a hundred winters have whistled
through my branches— I am dead at the top. The
generation to which I belonged have passed away and
left me. A\rhy I stiU live, the Great Spirit alone knows !
iiut I pray to him that I may have patience to wait for
my appointed time to die."

* In 1775, Shen-an-do-ah was present at a treaty made in Albanv At nl^hf Ha

Ks o^nTr^l^^'''"^H ^"'^ '° '*^^ r"^'"*^ found himself in the Set, s Sd of
rtl.lrriLH "®"*^ l*'"'^ ''"'^'■y '''■*'*='° °f Clothing. His pride revolted at his self-

' Sng wa^en" ^' '''"'"'^ °'"" "^''^ '' ^'''''' '""^^l^ over to the'power of

FORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

ears old,
addicted
•d sense,
isionary,
s.* He
! time of
t settle-
tn being
-ns ; his
lerieans,
ined for
of the

fore his
id hem-
vhistled
. The
^ay and
knows !
rait for

it niffht he
stripped of
t his self-
power of

lenn's |irrgain.

William Penn, the benevolent English quaker, went
from this country to America in the year 1682. The
state of f enaylvauia is named after him, being a tract of
land that was granted to him by King Charles II. of
England. By his kindness and honest dealings with the
Indians, he won their love and respect ; having no word
m their language which signified Pen, they called him
"Eather Omis," which means quill.

Although Penn had received the grant of land from
the King of England, his love of justice would not
permit him to lay claim to any portion of it, without the
consent of the Indian tribes to whom it really belonged,
nor until he had given them what they considered an
equivalent.

He once made a curious bargain with an Indian chief,
named Teedyuscuing, for a tract of land to be taken
from a parallel of latitude through a given point, as far
as the best of three men could walk in a day, between
sun-rise and sun-set, from a certain sweet chesnut tree,
near Bristol (in Pensylvania) in a north-west direction. '

Great care was taken to select the men most capable
of such a walk. The choice fell on Solomon Jennings, a
Yankee, which means a person born in New England, or
the Eastern States, as they are likewise called. He was
a remarkably strong-built man.

The second was James Yates, a native of Buckenham
county, Pensylvania, a tall, slim man of great agility, and
speed of foot ; and the third was Edward Marshall, also
a native of Buckenham county, a noted hunter ; he was

a. In.rfrp fV»ir>lr_aof r»'^"^'-'»»-ftil ••v^"-"

The day being appointed, at sun-rise many people
were collected at about twenty miles distance from the

TALES OF THE

startin^-plaee, on the Durham road, in order to seo the
e utmp.ons panH. First nm.o Yat.H, stepping, alon^. an
th n£l ' ^7' nn.ompani(Ml hy Wilha.l/ K^i.n and hin
uttendantH ()n horsc^back ; aftor him, hut out of siirht

ZZ.\vr^"l7^^^' f if''"^'^' Htoady stop; and m.trav
behnid, Ldward Marnhall, apparontly nurJcsH, HwiuLMn-
an axe in lu.s hand, and eating a dry biseuit. Bets were
greatly ni favour oi" Vates. ^i-s >>trt

Marshall took hiseuit.s to support his stomach, and
earned an axe to swing in either liand alteniatelv
havnig a notion that the action of his arms should
somewhat corresj)ond with that of his legs ; he was full
resolved to beat the other men, or to die in the attempt.'
In rehiting this ieat some years after, he gave the
following account. He said that he gaiiu'd upon Yates
m descending towards the Durham creek, where Yates
complained ol being very much tired, sat down on a log t;
est lumse.l and soon after gave up the walk ; he walked
nearly eighty miles, but hurried too much at first
Marshall kept on and before he reached the Lehigh
and w^^koT l^'-^^f ^/Tenning^, waded the river Bethlehe'n.;
mid walked on, faster and faster, past the place where
Kazareth, now stands, to the place called the Wind Gap
This w-as as far as the path had been marked out for

to .?; H't *^^"'/,T^l? ^''^'' collection of people waiting
to see 1 any of the three men would reacfi it by sun-set
Marshall hal ed only while the surveyor furnished 1dm
v^ith a pocket compass, and then started forward again.

w Ikp iff r r""T7''' '''^* ^^'^^ ^""' *« '^^ that he
\ alked it fairly, and to ascertain how far he went He

then passed to the west of the Pokono mountain (the
Indians finding it difficult to keep up with him,) till he

had t'uo^r ^ T^'.r^ ^" wouldliav'e proceeded farthe^
had It not been for tins water. Here he marked a tree
as was witnessed by the three Indians

nnni'n/-f r- ^ ^'^ ""^^^^^ ^*^^^"^^ ^^^^""^^^ ^^^ ^^^-set,

P.i .g thxuagxi uoods, was measured, and found to be one
hundred and fifteen miles.

KORTII AMKIIIC.VN INDIANS.

see the

11 and liis
of siglit,

1 not far

Jets Avere

lU'li, and
eniatclv,
^ should
Aas fully
ttonipt.
,'ave th(*
n Yates
•e Yates
a ]o^ to
) walked
at first.
Lehigh,
;hleheni,
d where
nd Gap.
out for
waiting
wuu-set.
led him
i again,
that he
t. He
n, (the
till he
'arther,
a tree,

un-set,
;s of it
be one

Tlius he won the great prize of five hundred dollarH*
in money, and five hundred aeres of land for himself, to
be taken out of *' William IVnn's purehase."

James Yates, who led the way at first, was so mueh
injured hy his exertion, that he died a few days
afterwards. Solomon Jennings survived many years.
Edward Marshall lived to be ninety years old, and died
on ;^^arshal^s Island on the Delaware river. He was a
great hunter, yet an industrious, thriving man. He and
his family were rieh, and people said he had diseovered a
silver mine ; but as he never disclosed where it was, and
as mines cannot be worked in secret, that story is very
improbable.

A most striking trihiite to worth was paid a'few years
ago, by a party of poor Indians who came from the back
country to visit Philadelphia.

AVhen the statue in the hospital yard was pointed out
to them as the figure of " Father Onas," or Penn, they
all with one accord fell down on their knees before it ;
thus testifying, in the strongest manner in their power,
their reverence for the character of one of the few white
men who have treated their race with humanity.

It was not an exhibition got up for effect ; it was
the spontaneous result of feeling — of a deeply implanted
feeling, wliich neither time nor distance had been able
to destroy. It had descended from father to son; it
had been cherished in the Western wilds ; and it broke
forth in the midst of civilized society, and was evinced
by the strongest of natural signs — reverence on the knee !

William Penn was born 1644, died 1718.
* Five hundred dollars are equal to about one hundred guineas, English money

TALES OF THE

who waa standing at the Toor of W^!? "^ * "*''

about the jnftter ^''''^^^^' for it, thought no more

inftitrtLfi? '"'' tobac-rjaihis^of^oj

a.ee<:oteo;tra;Stit.drth;^t: -- -teresting

Hie hostess, who was a very iU-temnered w„n,»„

j-y liiii/iv reiuaeii tn j^c^n^^^ i,^^ u-j^ s ^ , . >

VUJ.

Satlv refused to relieve him'

unfindness, c^fur.Z^XlTllZ

but added abuse to her
and told

B 3

NOETH AMERICAN INDIANS.

fe on the
w a man
r, as we
he asked
ack into
3 Indian,
no more

)rised at
n asking
dian no
)r you."
•eautifiil
ed with

trifling
on this
s of his
cresting

leeticut
Indian
i in the
supply
le time
her, as
s: but
d meet

.n •nn4-

-•J iiVf

to her
d told

him that she did not work so hard herself, to throw awa^-
her earnmgs upon such vagabonds as he was. "^

There was a man sitting in the same room of the
tavern, who, on hearing the conversation, looked up, and
observed the Indian's countenance, which plainly showed
that he was suffering severely from want and fatigue, and
being of a humane disposition, he told the woman to give
the poor wanderer some supper, and he would pay for it.

She -did so: and when the Indian had finished his
meal, he turned towards his benefactor, thanked him, and
told him that he should not forget his kindness. " As
for the woman," he added, " aU I can give her is a story
—if she likes to hear it." The woman being now in a
rather better temper, and having some curiosity to hear
what he had to tell, readily consented, and the Indian
addressed her as follows : —

"I suppose you read the Bible?" The woman
assented. "Well," continued the Indian, "the Bible
say, God made the world, and then he took him, and
looked on him, and say, ' It's all very good.' Then he
made light, and took him, and looked on him, and say
' It's all very good.' Then he made dry land, and water^
and sun, and moon, and grass, and trees, and took him
and say, ' It's aU very good.' Then he made beasts, and
birds, and fishes, and took him, and looked on him, and
say, 'It's aU very good.' Then he made man, and took
him, and looked on him, and say, 'It's all very good.*
And last of all he made woman, and took him, and looked
on him, md he na da/re say one smh word." The Indian
having told his story, departed. '

Some years after, the man who had befriended the
Indian, had occasion to go some rJistance into the wilder-
ness between Litchfield and Albany, which is now a
populous city, but then contained only a few houses.
Here he was taken prisoner by an Indian scout, and
earned off into Canada. When he arrived at the prin-
„.^,,-. ,,^...vi•^Iii^^tit. ^i Micii muc, wuicu was on me Danka
of the great river St. Laurence, some of the Indians
proposed that he should be put to death, in revenge for

'Jiii

TALES OF THE

the wrongs that they had suffered from the white men-
and this probably would have been his fate, had not an

fil ?. T Tf {''' ""^ ^^''^'^' ^' *^^y ^^« «^lled, demanded
that he should be given up to her, that she might adopt
him m place of her son, whom she had lately lost in
war. He wa^ accordingly given to her, and, as it is cus-
tomary under such circumstances, was thenceforth treated
m the same manner as her own son.

In the following summer, as he was one day at work
n the forest by himself, feUing trees, an Indian, who was
unknown to him, came up and asked him to meet him
the lollowmg day at a certain spot which he described
Ihe white man agreed to do so, but not without some
apprehension that mischief was intended. During the
night these fears increased to so great a degree, as Effec-
tually to prevent his keeping his appointment.

However a few days after, the same Indian f.adinff
him again at work, gravely reproved him for not keepini
his promise. The man made the bestexcuses he could
but the Indian was not satisfied until he had r-ain

=r agtd^ot '^" *'^ ^^^* --^^^^ ^' *^^ pi-

iJuT^^'^Y It"" ^^ ^''^^^'^ ^* *^^ '^P^*' he found the
Indian already there, provided with two muskets and

powder, and two knapsacks. The Indian ordered him to

take one of each, and to follow him. The direction of

their march was^southward. The man followed without

the least knowledge of what he was to do, or whither he

was going, but he concluded that if the Indian intended

to do him harm, he would have despatched him at the

first meetmg and certainly would not have provided hfrn

^vith a musket and powder for defence. His fearT

tamed an obstinate silence when he questioned him
concerning the object of their expedition^ ^

in the day time they shot and cooked as much game as
they required, and at night kmdled a fire by whi!h thev
r^.. .XX.CI- a lacigumg joui-ney through the forest for
many days, they came one moring to the top of a hSl

no
ma

ne^

coi

na1

th(

hei

riv

gai

..^■...s.irfS

NOBTH AMERICAN IlfDIAIfS,

lite men ;
id not an
iemanded
jlit adojit
y lost in
it is cus-
b treated

at work
who was
aeet him
escribed.
»ut some
ring the
as efFec-

. finding
keeping
le could,
id rf^ain
16 place

)und the
ets and
1 him to
ction of
without
ither he
atended
at the
led him
3 fears,
I mam-
3d him

j^ame as
3h they
est for
■a hiU

from which there was a prospect of a cultivated country,
interspersed with several snug farm houses.

" Now," said the Indian to his joyful companion, " do
you know where you are?" "Yes," replied he, "we
are not ten miles from Litchfield." "And do not you
recollect a poor Indian at the tavern ? — you feed him—
you speak kind to him — I am that poor Indian ; — now go
home." Having said this, he bade him farewell, and the
man joyfuUy returned to his own home.

It is a fact worthy of remark, that the Indians are
never afraid of being lost in a forest ; in traversing the
country, while they make use of the beaten roads as long
as they suit their purpose, they retain a knowledge of its
natural geography, and often cross the country, as was
the primitive practice, from one stream to another, at the
best fording places ; and are still acquainted with all the
rivers and lakes, and the most probable places for finding
game.

TALES OF THE

Theee are three kinds of bears in North America-
namely the Black bear, the Polar bear, and the S;
bear: but excepting the last mentioned, none of them
will at ack men, though, if provoked, they will defend
themselves most courageously. ueiena

H J,^f f "'I'? ^'''"" '" Jr*'y considered as the most
ttflf '■''^ '^''Sevo^^ of all the North American quad-
rupeds Gigantic in size, and terrific in aspect he
unites to a ferocious disposition a surpassing strength of
limb, which gives him undisputed supremacy over every
other quadruped of the wilderness, and caus^es man S
self to tremble at his approach. To the Indians the
very name of the grizzly bear is dreadful, and the HllW
one IS esteemed equal to a great victory; the whi"f
hunters, however weU armed, are always wilUng to Ivoid
an encounter with so powerful an enemy, and leldom or
never wantonly provoke his fury "om or

».? Z^f '"""™ *'"^* *'' formidable creature pursues
and attacks men or animals when excited by hunger and
slaughters every creature whose speed or art is n?t suffi-
cient to place them beyond his reach. Even the bSon
whose size and great strength might seem sufficient
protection, does not always Iscape his graL ""

S2 l,?^to H*™"rrA ""* »"'y to^ove,?,;wer tWs
rr'^ureVrttlre '"'^ *° ^""'•' '"'"™'^^"* p'-« *»
It is by no means surprising that hMnters and traveUers
should suppose the grizzly bear to be wholly earSvoror ,
as he displays such great ferocity of disposition, and 3
:^f!jrT,*°.i^«*™y '^'.^^<^of any Wmal that felt '
^"'"" "'" Jf",«cr; yei, singular as it may appear the
grizzly bear, hke aU other bears, is capable of subsikini

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

America ;

e Grizzly

of them

11 defend

:he most
:an quad-
pect, he
ength of
er every
fian him-
ans, the
e killing
le white
bo avoid
Idom or

pursues
?er, and
ot suffi-
3 bison,
ifficient
for the
'er this
lace to

ivellers
v^orous, -
id such ,
-t falls
IT, the
sisting

exclusively on roots and fruits. Some attempts have
been made to tame this beast, but without much success

of ^r^l^l-r.' ^f-^'"'' '^^' "^^^^ ^^P* i^ *h^ menagerie
of the Philadelphia museum, but though they were quite

smaU when taken, they soon gave signs of that ferocity

in 7t 1 T''^^ ''/^ remarkable. As they increased
m size, they became dangerous, seizing and tearing to
pieces every thing they could lay hold of, and grasping
the iron bars of their cage and shaking them violenth?
to the great terror of the spectators, who hardly felt
streT th ^^ ' ^^^^ witnessing such displays of their

When they were little more than half grown, their
lerocity became so alarming, and the apprehension that
they might escape so great, that it was ttiought necessary
to kiU them to prevent such an event

fJX'^^"'-' T *^ ^^'^ ^?* ^^ *^" ^''^y ^^^^ are more
thrppt V tJ^""^' ^""^^^^'^ «^tl^e hind feet about
three inches. These are occasionallv strung as necklaces
and worn by the Indian chiefs as trophies o^f ^cton '

A gentleman who had lived many years among differ- '
ent tribes of Indians, far distant' from civilized men
once told me a strange story concerning a chiefs
necklace This gentleman was a painter,^ and made
excellent portraits ol many of the chiefs, who took much
pride m being painted in their most splendid dresses, and
most warliSe ornaments. One chief, after spending ^ome
hours m oiling his hair painting his face and breast, and
arranging his beautiful plumes of black eagle's feathers
^r his head dress presented himself before the artist
with a most frightful necklace, which was actually made
ot the fingers of those enemies he had killed in battle
dried and strung for this extraordinary purpose ^e
painter remonstrated, but in vain; he would be painted
with this necklace, and no other. .

When the portrait was nearly finished, the chief, whose
name I am sorrv to aav T hnvA ft^T.^^++^^ ^„^_ __.
morning to the pamter, and with a troubled look, begged

TALES or THE

him to take off the necklace from the picture, "for,"

said he, "I have had a bad dream about it."

The painter wasi curious to know what it was that

had made him so suddenly change his mind, and he

inquired what he had dreamt.

Upon this, the Indian told him that whilst he slept he

dreamed that the necklace was still upon him, and that
the fingers, coming to life again, claspel tighte- and
• tighter round his throat, till he couJ ' -riy breathe;
and he was quite sure if they were i .moved from'
the picture before he slept again, they would strangle
him the next night.

They were accordingly obliterated, and in their place
was substituted a magnificent necklace of grizzly bear's
claws, which had also been obtained by the courage and
dexterity of this warlike chief.

•e, "for,"

KOETH AMEKICAir INDIANS.

was that

i, and he

3 slept he
and that
hte" and

breathe ;
ved from

strangle

eir place
[j bear's
^•age and

Theee cannot be a more unprincipled and vicious set of
men than the whites who dwell on the boundaries
between civilized men and the Indians : they rob, murder,
and betray them; and in return, taking a dreadful
revenge for many unprovoked attacks, the Indians fre-
quently destroy, not only their persecutors, but their
whole families with them.

Virginia, so named in honour of Queen Elizabeth, was
trst settled by English colonists about two hundred and
nlty years ago. On one particular occasion. Colonel Bird
was employed by the English government to transact some
business with a be of Cherokee Indians. It unfortu-
nately happened that a short time before he went
amongst them, some white people had seized two Indians
who had given them some trifling ofience, and had most
unjustly put them to death, and the Indians, naturally
made angry at such an outrage, determined upon taking
revenge, whenever an opportunity should offer.

The wished for opportunity was now presented by the
appearance of Colonel Bird among them, and private
consultation was held by their aged men, as to the most
effectual means of getting him into their power and
making him the sacrifice. '

Their unfriendly intentions were soon perceived by
Colonel Bird, who, although he was by no means deficient
in courage, felt that he had just cause of alarm : for he
knew he was in their power, without means either of
escape or defence. On retiring to rest he could not help
reflecting that before morning he might be scalped, or
what was worse, retained n, nrisnnPT +n >»« f«TW-,i««j V«-
their savage amusement. Several nights were passed in

TALES or THE

sleeplesa anxiety, and in vain endeavours to contrive some
plan of escape.

Among the neighbouring Cherokees was one named
Silouee. Besides bemg a chief, he was also a celebrated
Bow-wow, or as we should say, a wizard, or a conjuror
This man had known Colonel Bird for a considerable
time, and had even eaten with him at his table. Silouee
therefore felt a friendship for the colonel, and almost
every night came to his tent, and appeared anxious to
relieve him. He told him not to be alarmed, and even
assured him that the Indians should not injure him This
assurance comforted Colonel Bird in some degree, but as
feilouee was only one amongst many chiefs, he feared that
his influence could not be sufficient to protect him. from
the violence of the revengeful savages.

At length a general council of the chiefs and old men
of the tribe was held, and contrary to Silouee's expecta-
tion, it was determined that Colonel Bird should be put
to death in revenge for the loss of their countrymen. It
was in vain that Silouee earnestly pleaded for his friend,
urging that he had no hand in the murder of their two
countrymen— the unanimous decision was against him.

Two warriors were now despatched to Colonel Bird's
tent, to execute the cruel sentence that had been pro-
nounced against him. Silouee insisted on accompanying
them. On reaching the tent, Silouee rushed in beforS
them, threw himself on the bosom of his friend, and as
soon as the two warriors approached, he exclaimed, " This
man is my friend— before you take him, you must kill
me."

Overawed by the magnanimous determination of
Silouee, the warriors returned to the council, and related
to their brethren what they had seen. Indians entertain
the greatest respect for a faithful friend. The consul-
tation was renewed. The noble conduct of Silouee
touched their better feelings and altered their purpose.
They could not put to death a white man who was the'
— — .!,...., viitjjr uiiviciuiw icicttHuu. v/oiouei xsiru.

nve some

le named
elebrated
conjuror,
siderable
Silouee
d almost
axious to
md even
m This
B, but as
ired tliat
im from

old men
expecta-
i be put
nen. It
s friend,
leir two
t him.
1 Bird's
sen pro-
panying
I before
and as
I, " This
ust kill

bion of
related
itertain
consul-
Silouee
urpose,
v^as the
■i iJira,

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

and bid him go to his home in peace. Silouee was his
guide and protector, and not till they came in si^^ht of
Colone Bird's tent did he leave him. "^ As they mrted
Silouee s last words to his friend were, " When vou see
poor Indian in fear of death from cruel whitrmen
remember Silouee." '

The strong tendency to superstition in the Indian
mind turnishes a powerful inducement to the more bold
and crafty amongst them, to assume the character of
pow-wows, medicine-men, and even prophets

Every thing amongst the Indians of great'efficacy and
power, HI short every thing that is inexplicablef is a
nedicme,'' and "medicinemen" are held in almost as
giedt^ respect as the warriors and braves. "Medicine
men are a sort of jugglers, and they affect much
mystcTy m preparing and administering their nostrums.
Incredible stories are related of their powers and per^
tormances, many of which we presume never took place
except m the imaginations of the ignorant hunters and
trappers who were imposed on by the dexterity of these
audacious quacks. ^

A medicine is also a charm which every Indian who has
arrived nt the age of manhood carries about him It is
usually the tlried skin of some animal, such as a beaver
an otter, a fox, weasel, raven, or some other bird • but
whatever it may be, it is preserved. by them with the
most superstitious care ; in no instance have they been
tempted to seU a " medicine " to the white man, however
great the price offered ; and at their death it is invariably
buned with its owner. vaxiauiy

Some years after Colonel Bird's life had been saved
by bilouee, he became a Virginian planter, and took un
his residence near the James river, where he cultivated
tobacco Silonee, we have already stated was a «L7
wow; he retained his friendship for CoLd Bird of
whom he was now a near neighbour. Like many of his
nation, he had, by his intercourse with whit- ---
quirer^ a great taste for "strong waters," as they cS

•

TALES OF TUB

intoxicating spirita, and tlie dignity of the chief was often
clouded over by drunkenness. On one occasion, Colonel
Bird had gone to another part of the country, forty or
fifty miles distant, on business, and had left the care of
his plantation to an overseer. Tlic tobacco had attained
some size, and a long drought coining on, then; was a
prospect of the crop being much injured. One day
when Silouee came to the plantation, the overseer ex-
pressed great regret that the tobacco was taking so much
harm; "Indeed," continued he, " it will be entirely lost
if we have not rain soon." '

"Well," said the Indian, "what will you give me if 1
bring you rain ? "

" You bring rain ! " said the overseer, laughing.
"Me can," said the Indian. "Give me two bottles
rum, — only two, and me bring rain enough."

The overseer cast his eyes towards the heavens, but
could discern no appearance that foretold rain.' To
gratify the Indian, he pi-omised to give him the two
bottles of rum when Colonel Bird arrived, in case the
rain should come speedily, aud save the crop of tobacco.
Silouee now fell to pow-wowing with all his might'
making grimaces, contorting his body, and utterin<r
strange, unintelligible ejaculations. ^

It was a hot, close day, and it so happened that towards
evening, the sky, which had been clear for some weeks,
clouded over, and the appearance of the heavens was
strongly in favour of rain. Before midnight thunder
was heard, and heavy showers of rain watered the
Colonel's plantation thoroughly ; whilst it was remarked
that the showers were so partial, that the neighbouring
plantations were left almost as dry as they were before.
The Indian waited quietly till the rain was over, and then
walked away : a few days after the Colonel returned to
the plantation, and when Silouee heard of his arri.al he
went immediately to visit him. '

" Master Bird," said he, " me come for my two bottles
rum."

waa often

, Colonel

forty or

e care of

uttuined

t'o was a

One day

rseer ex-

80 much

rely lost,

; me if I

nr.

) bottles

ens, but
in. To
the two
case the
tobacco,
i might,
uttering

towards
! weeks,
ens was
thunder
red the
smarked
bouring
before,
nd then
rned to
'i.al, he

bottles

ifOIlTn AMEBICA.N ItfnTANS.

Your two bottles of rum," exclaimed the Colonel,
pretend]ng not to know anything of the matter,—-" pray
do I owe vou two bottles of rum ? "

" You do," replied the Indian.

j' How so ? " inquired the Colonel.

"Me bring you rain~me save your crop," said the
Indian.

" You bring rain," said the Colonel, " no such thing."

"Me did," persisted the Indian— "me loved you— me

tell overseer, give two bottles rum, and then me bring

rain. Overseer say he would— me bring cloud, then

ram — now me want mm."

"You saw the cloud," said Colonel Bird— "you are a
sad cheat." ■

" Me no cheat," said the Indian, " me saw no cloud,
me brina cloud."

" Well, well," said the Colonel, " you are an old friend,
and you shall have the rum, since you beg so hard for it.
But mmd you, it is not for the rain. The Great Spirit
sent the rain, not you."

^ " Well," said the Indian, "your tobacco had rain upon
li^why others have none f answer that, Colonel, if
you can."

Although the North American Indians have never
been found idolaters, yet like all ignorant people, they
are exceedingly superstitious. Some of their supersti-
tions connected with religious beliefs are very curious, as
they bear so much resemblance to the Mosaic account of
the Creation and the Deluge, as to leave hardly a doubt
of their having some tradition of those events ; but from
the art of writing being totally unknown amongst them,
the wonder is that any similarity in the account should
have been prese; ved through so many ages.

As might be expected, different tribes have their own
peculiar superstitions ; but all agree in the belief in one
AJl-wise, supreme Being, whom they call the Great Spirit,
Or master of Life ; that he created the world and all
good things, and that he rewards good actions, bolh in
this world and in a future life.

TALES OF THE

Tlieir heaven, or place of reward, they imacine t,> bo

extl^eme eoTf '"h*" P'"'' "f P^'^^hment is a cli.natc of

Se torments nfT"^ "" ™'r'''^ "'"' ^t"™"' «"«««■
xne torments of this Ireeznig place they describe as the

r h'e'^wm'S """""--A'- belicvl. that thlr wt
go tntre will suffer for a tune proportioned to tho.V

rSTrap^Jcr *"^^ ^'' '"- "-^ ""'^ "^o

hand (^'„ fk "'' PTJ P-'eparations are made before- '

hand. On the appointed morning there annears at a
dastanee a man whom they reeogliize by ?e name of
^u.mock.muck.a.nak, which' means, The^flrst or onlv
man ; he slowly and with great grav ty enters the villa" e^

thel^ett' "ffist f '""P'^'T "'Z '^ J-' arrived Ifem
skhis of wl,;;; ?^^ '^ fT^'^ '■•-''1' '"' i« Messed in the
frXf • '^&'-'',' '"' '"'"d-dress is made of ravens-

feathers, and m his hand he carries an enormous pipe
At his approach, the Medicine lodge, which till t^en h^.w'
been most scrupulously kept shut^i^ throw open and

the most fragrant herbs that can be collected ■ it is
ljkew.se whimsically ornamented with buffai: t d hulnan

The first man. now proceeds to enter everv loda,> n^

r^dilv^ven ,^" *="=' O'/"™" such tool; and these are
say thev ™tl,e be sacrificed; "for, with these things,"
saytney, the ^«ai! M«oe was built." ^

lodee wVni^f^f T *''«°,.d'^P™ite'i m the Medicine /

aJl fveT 3 1?" ^•'Sf^hon, nntU the ceremonies are '

Intolhew'er ^^ "" *'^'° ''"'"^'^'^- ^^ ^'^S thrown

..i*. !,™:™.^.r "'<' following morning, M-moclk^uei.
- ,.„. .y^u^ auu emers the Medicine lodge ; a number of

NOETU AMEEICAN INDIANS.

fno to be
I kiiidn is
r without

limato of
al snows,
bo as the
bo8o who
to their
tted into

religious
e before-
ars at a
name of
or only
3 village,
vedi from
d in the
' ravens'
us pipe,
hen had
>Gn, and
les, and
i; it is
i human

edge or
is from
ese are
hings,"

edicine
lies are
thrown

■-mucJc-
aber of

young men follow him, who, after lying on the floor in
perfect silence, and fasting till their strength is almost
exhausted, voluntarily submit to the most cruel tortures,
during whicli several annually perish, but those who
survive are recompensed by having acquired the honour-
able title of "Braves," and the hope of this distinction
enables them to endure the most agonizing pain without
flinching.

The conductor of the ceremonies now enters the lodge ;
he is painted yellow, and wears a cap of buffalo skin : he
receives the great pipe from the first man, who imme-
diately leaves the lodge and returns to the West, not
to make his appearance again till the next annual
celebration.

During the first three days, there is a great variety of
dances and curious songs and ceremonies performe'd in
front of the Medicine lodge, by persons fantastically
dressed and painted for the occasion. They are performed
round an elevated mound of earth, about six feet in
diameter, and as many in height, on the top of which is
placed with the greatest veneration, a model of ''the
great canoe''

The principal actors in th'-^ scene are eight persons*
variously painted, and nearly naked, but all carrying
wreaths of willow in their hands ; the season when this
interesting ceremony takes place, being uniformly as soon
as this tree is in full leaf; for the Indians say, that
" the twig which the dove Irought to the great canoe had
leaves wpon it:' They consider this bird as sacred, and
never attempt to destroy it.

On the third day in the midst of all this dancing and
festivity, the village appears to be suddenly thrown into
the utmost confusion, by the approach of a man who is
seen running about apparently in great trouble. He is
naked, and painted black, with the exception of his face,
which is frightfully daubed with red and white. He is
called bv the Indians the " Tihnl SlnwH: " TTa iiinc a.«,«

The ntpnber of persons who went into the Ark.

D 4l

TALES OP THE

lodge to lodge, and behaves with the greatest rudeness to
a 1 whom he meets; but he is constantly frustra^d in
W W '^^i,-^^ the .0^^^.^.., who thrusts his gre t
pipe between him and those whom he assails. At leS

ti:I:Sl^:''''''^'' ^^^*^« ^^^^^^-« again restored

deness to
fcrated in
his great
Vt length
restored

JrOETH AMEEICAN INDIANS^

Althofgh cold-blooded, deliberate murder is hardly ever
committed by the Indians, yet manslaughter, perpetrated
either hi drunken quarrels, or from the influence of sud-
den and violent passion, is by no means imcommon. In
most cases the offender is delivered over to the family of
the deceased, that they may deal with him according to
their pleasure ; and revenge being, as was before stated,
a prominent trait in the Indian character, it is rarely
that t!.e guilty man escapes with life.

But notwithstanding this unchristian-like thirst for
revenge, homicide and even murders are sometimes atoned
for by a sum of money, or the equivalent, which is paid
in a sort of shells called ivampum* an article that form.s
the standard by which the price of all commodities is
measured.

Sometimes too, the murderer is even adopted by the
parents of him whom he destroyed, and in every respect
takes his place.

An instance of this kind occurred some years ago at
an Indian village not far distant from Montreal, in
Upper Canada.

Two young men of the same tribe, who were remarka-
ble, the one for his great height, and the other for his
strength and activity, met together one day on the plain
with a number of their companions. After a good deal
of boasting on both sides, they began to abuse each
other, and finally to quarrel with considerable violence of
voice and gesture.

I nP r»nn fnsf. turlli nil \\r\A J\arrji-n i-n ci-n/^-^^- l.-,,! -LX. ^ ■_. -.-,4,

„ ,,,,,,,. ■■-.■^i trvj^itii ixi npOri;, iiau Liiu mOSt

fatal consequences; the standers-by encouraged, some

• See a note at the end of this tale.

TALES OP THE

S f^ r°T *''" "*'"■ <'»n>bat™t ; shouting and betting
(for the Indians are great gamblers), till the younrmen
lorget ,ng that they had no real cau e of enmHy fbS
with the greatest fury. After a short eonil^Tle taller

thrt;;hT;b^o/'"'/l"''' *''''''' ''"»« •'^ 1>- «id7rtn
inrough the body of his opponent, so that he fell and in

a moment after breathed ifis last gnsn. ' "

and f / 1 7f instantly spread through the village
and a crowd of Indians of aU ages assembled- whilstTe
untortunate murderer, seatu.g timself on the gZnd bv

hlM'te'ld'ttr'f "' '" '^1 '°^^'^'°'^' »o%Zie5
instate, and this he expected to be nothing dse than

immediate death, for such was the custom of ^the tribe

But although he offered no resistance to the stroke of

on\ rtTonTh;'" f'^'^K^ "^ '^y violent halds
on mm, but on the coitrary, after removing the dead

body from whence it lay, the^ left him entirely alone

Not meeting here with the fate he expected andTmost

the" m^ rofTe ?' """.'■'"*" *« ^'^"'s^' and there t
doL .!, 1 ™™"?d.ng wigwams, he laid himself

despatched hnr""*^ « ^"^'^ "^ ^'''"^ *•>« ™«°e'
aespatclied: but again the spectators retired without

sKd tf .T''"'"^ *" "'J"^" ''™- Probably thi; con
s^dered that he was scarcely more to blame than the ™u«i

morrgulv atn e,>f "-'^f ''''' '""^^ themselvesTer
more guilty than either, m having urged them on in ^^,nh

fatal violence. Be that as it miglit, tie state of suspense
he was m, was intolerable to his mind, and he resolved

widow He entered her cabin, and presenting himseU'
be ore her, addressed her in these words- ^

Woman— I have killed thy son • his life w», rt„

th^ w^'l' "'T *" S'r ^y^'f -P to the efsrwht^
tiiou «lt have done, and relieve me speedily fr^m n^*

ir.L°A^t *'"" P"" 7'^""^ ™''% answered—" Thou hast
indeed been so unhappy as to kill mv son-fI!°" S

oXuZrrrhr^ ^"'""fl' -^^^--tomerandwaa'tW
only support I had m my old age. His life is already

FOETH AMERICAN INDIANS.

d betting
iiig men,
Y, fought
he taller
e, ran it
1, and in

! village,
hilst the
ound by

awaited
tse than

tribe,
troke of
t hands
he dead
lone,
i almost
here in
himself

sooner
svithout
3y con-
e youth
's were
to such
ispense
esolved
n aged
iimself

as thy
'■ what
•m my

a hast
I hast
as the'
Iready

gone, but to take thine would not bring him back, nor
would thy death make me more happy. Thou hast a
young son, and if thou wilt give him to me in the place
of my son whom thou hast slain, all shall be wiped
away." The Indian thus replied: " Mother, my son is
still but a child, he has seen but ten winters, and he has
not strength or knowledge to be of service to thee, but
would rather be a trouble and a burden ; but here 1
stand before thee, strong and able to bring thee game to
eat, and wood to burn; I am able to maintain and
comfort thee ; if thou wilt receive me, I will never fail in
being a dutiful son to thee whilst thou livest."

The poor widow accepted the offer, and forthwith
adopted him as her son ; receiving also his wife and child
into her dwelling, and treating them with the same kind-
ness as if they had been her own children.

Sucn an example of entire forgiveness, and of a crime
of such magnitude, I fear could hardly be equalled even
in a Christian country ; but to give a fair representation
of the Indian character, I must also, though it is not so
agreeable, relate some traits of an opposite kind.

In a quarrel which took place over the carcase of
a bison, each disputant warmly declaring that the animal
belonged to himself and to no other, an Omawhaw chief
was most barbarously murdered by a warrior of the
same nation. The deceased left a young son, who some
years afterwards became a hunter.

IJp to this time the murderer had remained unpunished,
but the son was now old enough to indulge in his long-
cherished revenge; and according to the barbarous
feelings of these people, he w^ould have been considered
a cowardly and unworthy son, had he not wreaked
vengeance on him, as soon as his strength would permit.

In the midst of a large party of buffalo hunters, the
young man espied his hated enemy — the youth's bow-
was in his hand, and his quiver full of sharp arrows hung
at his side. He seized one, and, without another
moment's consideration, sent it through the heart of him
who had so inhumanly deprived him of his father.

TALES OF THE

The people saw nothinnr criminal in the younff man's
conduct, for they sympatliized in his feelings of revenge
and rejoiced at the death of one who regarded neither
juRtice nor humanity ; and no one was found who wished
to revenge his death.

Note.-Th& Ferns Mercenaria is the shell from which aH the
Wampum, or Peak is cut. As it has been an article of so much
irnportance throughout all the Indian trihes, it ;vill not be unint^fes-
ting to give a more particular account of the manner in which it is
made, and the purposes to which it is applied

Frfi!!n!^'"^T°V^'T^"^',^"'' ^" ^'\'' Account'of Two Voyages to New
England '' John Josselyn says.-" Their beads are their money ; and
of these there are two sorts, blue beads, and white beads; the first is
heir gold, and the last their silver These they work out of certain
shells so cunningly that no Jew can counterfeit. They drill, and
string them and make many curious works with them to adorn the

Prlnnrpfl- v^^'''^"^ ^"^ l'"ncipal young men and women.

Prince Philip, a httle while before I came to England (in 16^)
coming to Boston, had on a coat and buskins set thick with these
beads, m pleasant wild works, and a broad belt of the same- his
accoutrements were valued at twenty pounds sterling. The En'elish

Sl/f g'^f ;«V^"l'"g« f«r a fathom of the wliite, and nf y
double as much for the blue wampum."

An-na-won, a chief and faithful friend of King Philip's, after that
extraordinary man's death, presented Captain Church with a beauti-
fully wrought belt, which belonged to King Philip. It was nine
niches in breadth and of such length, that when put about the
shoulders of Captain Church, it reached his ankles. This was con!
sidered, at that time, of great value, being embroidered all over with
wampum of various colours, curiously wrought into figures of birds,
beasts and flowers A second belt, of no less exquisite workmanship
was next presented which also belonged to Philip. This had been
used to ornament his head. A third, which was smaller, had a beau-
tiful star attached to it, and this he wore upon his brenst. All three
were curiously worked at the edges with red hair, probably dyed, which
An-na-won said was got in the country of the Mohawks. These, with

J^V^Z '"m^''"J ? M^^ ""''' "" '^«* '•^'"^'"^d of the effects
S: I^hihp Pokanoket;" his faithful friend told Captain Church
^hey were Philips Royalties, ^hich he was wont ^-^ lorn himself with
^^hen he sat m state, and he thought himself happy in bein^ able to
present ihem to him. —

Having quoted Mr. Josselyn's account of the Indian V/ampum-
money, I will now relate the more circumstantial and particular

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

ng man a
' revenge,
d neither
10 wished

ich all the

f so much

unintefes-

which it is

jes to New
oney ; and
the first is
; of certain
drill, and
adorn the
id women,
(in 167 1),
ivith these
same; his
e English
md nearly

after that
a beauti-
was nine
ihout the
was con-
over with
5 of birds,
cmanship,
had been
id a beau-
All three
ed, which
hese, with
he effects
n Church
self with,
et able to

description, given by the unfortunate John Lawson, in his History of
Carolina.

"Their money," he says, «'is of different sorts, but all made of
shells, which are found on the coast of Carolina, being very large and
hard, and difficult to cut. Some English people have tried to drill
this sort of shell-money, and thereby thought to get an advantage,
but it proved so hard, that notliing could be gained ;" and Morton iii
his "New England Canaan,"* says, that, "although some of the
English m New England have tried by example to make the like, yet
none hath ever attayned to any perfection in the composure of them,
so but the salvages have found a great difference to be in the one and
the other ; and have known the counterfeit beades from those of their
own making, and have, and doe slight them." Hence the conclusion
of Mr. Josselyn, that not even a Jew can counterfeit the money of
the Indians.

Mr. Lawson continues thus; "The Indians often make a sort of
gorget with the same kind of shells ; this hangs from their collar, and
on it is worked a cross, or some strange tigure that comes next in their
fancy. Some of these gorgets will sell for a doeskin, and others will
readily fetch as much as three or four buckskins ready dressed. The
general current specie all over the Continent, as far as the Bay of
Mexico, is what in Carolina is called Peak, and in New Yoxk, and to
the West, is called Wampum. To make this peak, it cost the English
almost ten times as much as they could get for it, whereas it costs the
Indians nothing, because they set no value upon their time, and
therefore have no competition to fear, or that others will take it out of
their hands.

" It is made by grinding pieces of shell upon stone, and it is
smaller than the small end of a tobacco pipe, or large wheat straw.
Four or live of these make an inch, and every one is drilled through,
and made as smooth as glass, and then strung as beads are. The
drilling is by far the most difficult and tedious part of the manufac-
ture. It is done by sticking a sharp nail in a cane or red, which
they roll upon their thighs with the right hand, while with the left they
apply the bit of shell to the iron point.

" Such is the money of trie Indians, with which you may buy all
that they have. It is their mammoi., (as our money is to us) that
entices and persuades them to do any thing— to part with their
captives, or even with their wives and daughters. With it, murderers
may be bought off, and whatever ill a man may do, this wampnm will
quit him of it, and make him, in their opinion, good and virtuo!i&.,
though never so black before."

* Frinted at Amsterdam in lti37.

-ampum-
sarticular

TALES OF THE

I'SowpI ani tilt InWan.

S^^ilP years ago, a Scotcliman and his wife, named
M JJougal, emigrated to America. Having but very
little money, he purchased land where it was then sold
tor almost nothing, in a country thinly peopled, and on
the extreme verge of civilization. ,

His first care was to construct a house, and clear away
some of the trees around it. This done, he spent his
whole time, early and late, in making a garden and
cultivating a few fields. By unwearied industry, and
with the occasional help of older settlers, he by degrees
acquired a stock of cattle, sheep, and pigs, and was in a
rough way, possessed of a comfortable independence.

His greatest discomforts were, distance from his
neighbours, the church, market, and even the mill ; but
above all, the complete separation from his friends • and
this he would have felt still more, had he been an idle
man.

One day. Farmer M'Dougal having a quantity of corn
to grind, knowing that the distance was considerable and
the roaa none of the'^smoothest, set out in the morning
at sunrise, hoping he should reach home again before dark

VV hen the farmer was at home, he always drove up the
cows for his wife to milk, morning and evening ; but now
this care devolved on her, and the careful woman went in
quest of them. IN'ot accustomed to go far from the
house, she soon found herself in an unkno\^Ti country
and with neither pocket compass nor notched trees to
guide, it is not to be wondered that she wandered lon^r
and wearily to very little purpose. Tall trees seemed to
encompass her on every side, or where the view was more
open, she beheld the distant blue hills rising one behind

N*OBTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

', named

)ut very

ben sold

and on

ar away-
pent his
len and
:ry, and

degrees
vsLS, in a
'nee.
om his
ill; but
ds ; and

an idle

of corn
ble, and
aorning
re dark,
s up the
)ut now
went in
om the
ountry,
rees to
id long
tned to
IS more
behind

another ; but no village spire or cottage chimney was
there to cheer her on her way; and fatigued with the
search, and despairing of finding the cattle, she resolved
while It was yet light, to retrace her steps homeward.

But this resolution was more easily formed than
executed— she became completely bewildered, she knew
not m which direction to turn, and at length, with tears
m her eyes, and her mind agitated almost to distraction
she sunk on the ground. But she had not rested there
many minutes before she was startled by the sound of
approaching footsteps, and on looking up, she beheld
before her an Indian hunter.

Although Mrs. M'Doiigal knew that there were
Indians living m the neighbourhood, she had never yet
seen one, and her terror was very great. The Indian
however, knew her, he had seen her before ; he knew
where she lived, and he instantly guessed the cause of
her distress. He could speak but a few words of En^rlish
but .!« made signs for her to follow him. She dSd so'
and after a few minutes' walk, they arrived at the door
of an Indian wigwam. He invited her to enter, but not
being able to persuade her to do so, he darted into the
wigwam, and spoke a few words to his wife, who instantly
appeared, an^ by the kindness of her manner induced
the stranger to enter their humble abode. Venison was
prepared for supper, and Mrs. M'Dougal, though still
alarmed at the novelty of her situation, could not refuse
to partake of the savoury meal.

Seeing that their guest was weary, the Indians removed
Irom their place near the roof, two beautiful deer sk'ns
and by stretching and fixing them across, divided the
wigwam into two apartments. Mats were then spread
m both, and the stranger was then made to imderstand
that one division was for her accommodation. But here
again her courage failed her, and to the most pressing
entreaties she replied that she would sit and sleep by
the fire. This determination seemed to puzzlf^ ihp.
Indian and his squaw sadly ; they looked at one another
and conversed softly in their own language; and at

TALES or THE

length, the squaw taking her guest hy the hand, led her
to her couch and became her bedfellow.

In the morning she awoke greatly refreshed, and
finxioua to depart without further delay, but this her
new friends would not permit, until she had eaten of
their corn cakes and venison ; then the Indian accompa-
nied his guest, and soon conducted her to the spot where
the cattle were grazing. These he drove from the wood,
on the edge of which Mrs. M'Dougal descried her
husband, who was equally delighted at seeing her, as her
absence from home all night had caused him great
uneasiness. They invited their Indian benefactor to
their house, and on his departure presented him with a
suit of clothes.

Three days after, he returned, and endeavoured, partly
by signs, and partly in broken English, to induce Farmer
M'Dougal to follow him into the ibrest. But he refused :
time was precious to him who had to work hard for every
thing he possessed, and the Indian repeated his entrea-
ties in vain. The poor fellow looked grieved and
disappointed, but a moment after a sudden thought
struck him — he hit on an expedient which none but an
Indian hunter would have thought of.

Mrs. M'Dougal had a young child, which the Indian's
quick eye had not failed to notice ; and finding that his
eloquence was completely thrown away upon the parents
he approached the cradle, seized the child, and darted out
of the house with the speed of an antelope. The father
and mother instantly followed, loudly calling on him to
return, but he had no such intention ; he led them on
now slower, now faster, and occasionally turning towards
them, laughing, and holding up the child to their view.

It is needless to go into all the details of this singidar
journey, further than to say that the Indian, instead of
enticing them to his own wigwam as they expected,
halted at length on the margin of a most beautiful
prairie, covered with the richest vegetation, and extend-
*"6 '-'•'-*^ ovrercn lynvOottiiu. ttureis. xu u, moment tne cliild
was restored to its parents, who wondering what so

ad, led her

38hed, and
it this her
d eaten of
1 aceompa-
spot where
the wood,
3cried her
her, as her
him great
efactor to
im with a

fed, partly
ce Farmer
le refused :
1 for every
is entrea-
ieved and
1 thought
ne but an

! Indian's
; that his
e parents,
larted out
^he father
m him to
them on,
g towards
3ir view.
3 singidar
Qstead of
expected,
beautiful
i extend-
the child
what so

NORTH AMEEIGAN INDIANS. 49

Strange a proceeding could mean, stood awhile panting

The Indian on the other hand, seemed overjoyed at
the success of his manceuvre, and never did a human
being frisk about, and gesticulate with greater animrtTo?
We have heard of a professor of sigS, an 1 f^uch a
person were wanted, the selection would not be a matter
of d fficulty, so long as any remnant exists of f 1.1
Abonpnes of North AmericZ All traveUers agreed
describing their gestures as highly dignified and tL^r
countenances intelligent; and we havf ^S M^l * a^^^^
authority for stating that the hero of this tale Sd
himself a perfect master of the art of eloquence^ ffis
broken English was nearly in these words. ^

You think Indian treacherous, you think him wish
M the child; no, no; Indian has child of h^ own
Indian knew you long ago ; saw you when you not lee
him ; saw you hard workmg man some white men bad
and hurt poor Indian; you not bad, you work hard for
your wife and child; but you choose bad place you
never make rich there. Indian see your cattle far^i^
forest ; thmk you come and catch them ; you not com^
your wife come; Indian find her faint and weary S
her home; wife fear go in; think Indian kiU her '» "
no; Indian lead her back; meet you very sad thin
very glad to see her; you Mnd to Indian ; gL ht meat
and drmk, and better clothes than you^ own. IXt
grateful; wish you come here; not come; Indian very
^rry ; take the child ; know you follow chid. If Indian
farm, Indian farm here; good ground; not many trees
inake road m less than half a moon; Indians hJlp you'
Indians your friends ;-come, live her;." ^ ^''''•

M iJougal nnmediately saw the advantage that such a
change would be to him, and taking the Indian's aZvP
he day was soon fixed for the remLl of hlX-hon e
along with the rest of his goods and .h.ft^l^ L^T-!
indiaoi, true to his word, brought ^a v^of^^

TALES OP THE

brethren to assist in one of the most romantic removals
that c er took place, either in tiie Old World or the
New.

In a few days a roomy log-house was raised, and a
garden marked out in the most fertile and beautiful part
of the prairi(\ The Indians continued fnencUy and
i'aithful, and the good understanding between them and
the white settlers was a source of great comfort to both
parties.

•' (

removals
i or the

(1, and a
;iful part
(Uy and
hem and
to both

IfOBTH AMEBICAN INDIANS.

The first emigrants to North America ^oH]nA ,'« ^k
New Engh.nd states, where therpTrLvetd throui'
d^ihculties m a manner which seeiL^hard^^ credrbTe fo
us who are accustomed to "live at home at ealp ' Ti,
chmate of New England is exceelgW^^^^^^^^
the sod IS rocky, and at that time^g^eSt tL^^/^^^^^^^^^^
country were covered with thick forests ^

feome perished under hardships which were m'ofi^f^.
than the.r strei^^th conld endure, whilst otTiors Cred
by privations and fatigue to all k'nds of iTffl u-
became well fitted for tL toilsome mteyl^^^^^^^
Born and brought up amongst such scenes,^thrchild;e^
and grandchddren of these emigrants wJre still mor^
hardy and venturous than their parents ; by LfreesThev
moved westward, to the States of Virginia ientuck/
Ohio, and others, where the winter was sC'^er Ld S
soil more productive. ' ^"^^ *^®

Theirs was not a life of idleness ! To clear thp fnr«=f
to protect themselves from wild beasts or frn! !f '
constant warfare of the Indians whoTVwMrme:
had so often deceived and cheated that many a moS
them had become their enemies, these wereTheIr daflv
occupations and cares. "^^^^

ir ^tT"l -f f 1 ^ P^'*^ ^^ ^?^^^ "^^^ ^'^« ^«™^^1 themselves
u:.o a little corps called Eangers, exnresi^l^ fJ fi?!
protection of the western frrmfW ^ ^ **^®

ana vandalia. These towns were not then in existence,

E 2

TALES or THE

and the Hurrounding rountry was one vast wilderness.
O?! the 80th of tlu; month, Indians were ohserved in the
neiglibourliood, and at night ilivy wvro discovered prow-
ling around tlie fort, but no ahirni was given.

Early on the following morning the Lieutenant moved
out with his little party mounted on horseback, to
reconnoitre the In.lians. Passing round the fence of a
corn field a<ijoining the fort, they struck across the
prairie, and had not proceeded more than a (puirt(;r of a
mile, when, in crossing a small ridge, which was covered
with a hazel thicket, in full view of the station, they fell
into an ambuscade of Indians, who rose suddenly around
tliem to the number of seventy or eighty, and fired.
Tour of the party were killed, among whom was the
Lieutenant ; one other fell, badly wounded, and the rest
fled, except lliggins.

It was a sultry morning, the day was just dawning, a
heavy dew had fallen during the night, the air was still
and damp, and the smoke from the guns hung in a cloud
over the spot. Under cover of this cloud, Higgins's
companions had escaped, supposing all who were left to
be dead. Higgins's horse had been shot through the
neck, and fell ou its knees, but rose again. Believing
the animal to be mortally wounded, he dismounted, but
finding that the wound had not disabled him, he con-
tinued to hold the bridle, for he now felt contidcmt of
being able to make good liis retreat. Yet before he did
this, he wished, as he said, "to have one pull at the
enemy."

For this puri)ose he looked round for a tree from
behind which he might fire in safety. There was but
one, and that was a small elm; but before he could
reach it, the cloud of smoke, partially rising, disclosed
to his view a number of Indians, none of whom however
discovered him. One of them stood within a few paces
of him, loading his gun, at him Higgins took a deliberate
aim,^fired, and the Indian fell. Still concealed by the
smoke, Higgins reloaded his gun, mounted his horse, and

NORTH AMERICAN IITDIANS.

Idorness.
i*(I ill the
ed prow-

vt moved
back, to
nee of a
roHH the
rt(;r of a

covered
they fell
^ around
id fired.
was the

the rest

vning, a
was atill
I a cloud
lijifgins's
B left to
ugh the
telieving
ted, but
he con-
ichmt of
3 he did
i at the

se, from
vaa but
e could
isclosed
however
w paces
liberate
by the
rse, and

W(l to fly, when a low voice near him hailed him with,
lom, you won't leave me ?" '

nal!ed^R!l'J"^ '""T^' ^'' discovered one of his comrades,
imim (I HurgcHs, who was lying wounded on the irround
nnd he nj«tantly replied, '^JVo, I'll not leave U come
along, and I'll take care of you " ^ '

alfto pieces.''"^''" '"^^''^ ^""'^'''^ ""^^ ^^'^ ^« '^^'^^^

DaSn'v^^''"^ ^'^"^ hiH saddle, and taking his com-
pamonin his arms, proceeded to lift him on his horse
^Vr *"/^,^'- his life, and that he would make h is
own way on foot. But the horse taking fright at this

fiumcient for every emergency, and setting Burfjess
geiitly down he told him, "/ow my good lllow,Tou

J^m nf 1 ^"'1-^"'' *° ^^"^P *h^"^ off,"~instructing
mm, at the same time, to get into the highest grass, and

foTwJl.'^'!f •*' '*!f ^^^^^^ ^' possible. Bu;gess
tollowed his advice, and escaped unnoticed.

History does not record a more disinterested act of

handTth ^"\'^^' '^ Tom Higgins, who having in h^
faands the certem means of escape from such imminent

rZ\ ''''l''f^''^y g^.^« them up, by offering his horse to
a wounded companion ; and who, when that generous
intention was defeated, and his own retreat was still

Krged Sr'' '' *'' '"^^' ^' ''' ^^^' '^ P-*-*

The cloud of smoke, which had partially opened before

him aa he faced the enemy, still lay thick behind him ;

and as he plunged through this, he left it, together with

hn7 f .r'^T^'?^^ *^'^^^*' h^*^^^^ him and the main
Dody ot the Indians, and was retiring, unobserved by

^fT\ Y . ^}T- ^i^^^imstances, it is probable, that
It he had retreated m a direct line towards the station,
e „i „,,„^ ^ i^, eucutuu nis escape. I5ut Burgess
was slowly crawling away in that direction, and the
gallant Higgms foresaw, that if he pursued the same

£3

TALES OF THE

tract, and should be discovered, his friend would be
endangered. He therefore resolved to deviate from his
course so far, as that any of the enemy who should
lollow him, would not fall in with Burgess. With this
intention, he moved warily along through the smoke and
Dushes, hoping when he emerged, to retreat at full speed.
-But just as he left the thicket, he behold a large Indian
near him, and two more on the other side, in the direction
01 the lort.

Confident in his own courage and activity, Tom felt
undismayed, but like a good general, he determined to
separate the foe and fight them singly. Maki^ r for a
ravine not far off", he bounded away, but soon fouad that
one ol his limbs failed him, having received a ball in the

^^u 1 ' ^^*^ ^^^' ^^ ^^^ ^^^% noticed.

Ihe largest Indian was following him closely. Higgins
several times turned to fire, but the Indian would halt
and dance about to prevent him from taking aim, and
lorn knew that he could not afford to fire at random.
Ihe other two were closing on him, and* he found that
unless he could dispose of the first, he must be over-
powered. He therefore halted, and resolved to receive
*^./^®' ^^I^e Indian, at a few paces distant, raised his
nlie Higgms watched his adversary's eye, and iust as
h^ thought his finger pressed the trigger, suddenly
turned his side towards him. It is probable that this
motion saved his life, for the ball entered his thigh,
which otherwise would have pierced his body.

Tom fell but rose again, and ran ; the largest Indian,
certain ol his prey, loaded again, and then with the two
others pursued. Higgins had again fallen, and as he
ro^, they all three fired, and he received all their halls !

He now fell and rose several times, and the Indians
throwing away their rifles, advanced on him with spears
and knives. They repeatedly charged upon him, but
upon his presenting his gun at one or the other, they

tell back, till at lai^t *Vl« lar-rroe,^ ^4* +1,^^ iU:„l-:.- _ _. ''

bably from Tom's reserving his fire so long that his gun
m^ empty, {attacked him boldly, when Higgins, taking

NOBTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

ould be
Tom his
should
ith this
oke and
il speed.
! Indian
iirection

'om felt
ined to
3' for a
ad that
I in the

aiggins
lid halt
m, and
andom.
id that
e over-
receive
3ed his
just as
ddenly
at this
thigh,

[ndian,
le two
as he
%lls !
idians,
spears
a, but
, they
y pro-
is gun
baking

a steady aim, shot him dead. With four bullets in his
body, with an empty gun, with two Indians before him
and a^ whole tribe a few rods oif, almost any other man
would have despaired. But Tom Higgins had no such
notion ! He had slain the most dangerous of his foes,
and he felt but little fear of the others. He therefore
lacvid them, and began to load his rifle. They raised a
whoop, and rushed on him.

"They kept their distance as long as my rifle was
loaded, said he, "but when they knew it was empty,
they were better soldiers."

4. ^x. ^?^?^ ^^^ bloody conflict ensued. The Indians
stabbed him m nany places; but it happened, fortu-
nately for Tom, that the shafts of their spea 1 were thin
poles, which had been hastily prepared for the occasion,
and which bent whenever the points struck a rib or
encountered one of his tough muscles. From this cause,
and the continued exertion of his hands in warding off
their thrusts, the wounds they made were not deep. His
whole front, however, was covered with gashes, of which
the scars yet remain in proof of his valour.

One of them now drew his tomahawk. The edge sunk
deep into Higgins' cheek— passed through his ear— laid
bare his skuU to the back of his head, and stretched him
on the plam. The two Indians rushed on, but Tom,
instantly recovering his self-possession, kept them off
with his feet and hands. At length, he succeeded in
grasping one of their spears, which, as the Indian
endeavoured to puU it from him, helped him to rise.
JNow, holding his rifle like a club, he rushed on the
nearest of his foes, and dashed his brains out, in doing
which he broke the stock to pieces, and retained only the
barrel m his hand. ^

^ The remaining Indian, though wounded, was now by
lar the most powerful man ; but though our hero's
strength was rapidly failing, his courage was not exhanatpd
und the savage began to retreat towards the place where
he had dropped his rifle. Tom in the meanwhile searched

£ 4

TALES OF THE

for the gun of the other Indian. Thus both, though
bleeding and out of breath, were in search of arms to
renew the combat.

By this time the smoke which hung between the com-
batants and the main body of Indians had passed away,
and a number of the latter having crossed the hazel
thicket were m full view. It seemed therefore that

at hand ^^^^ ^"^ ^^^'^"^^ ''^''^^'' ' ^""^ ""^^'^^ ^^

The little garrison at the fort had witnessed the whole

ot this remarkable combat. They were only six in

number, and amongst them was one heroic woman— a

•4.1 fi!^''l^^- . ^^^"^ ^^® ^^^ Higgins contending singly
with the foe, she urged the men to go to his rescue, but
the rangers objected, as the Indians outnumbered them
ten to one. Mrs. Pursley declared that so fine a fellow
as lorn should not be lost for the want of help, and
snatchmg a rifle out of her husband's hand, she jumped
on a horse, and saUied out ; while the men, ashamed to
be outdone by a woman, followed at fuU gallop towards
the place of combat.

^i.'^J^V^^ ?^ intense interest ensued. Tlie Indians at
the thicket had just discovered Tom, and were advancing
towards him with savage yells ; his friends were spurring
then- horses to reach him first ; Higgins, exhausted from
loss of blood, had fallen and fainted ; his adversary, too
ibrhis'rifl ^^^^ *^ observe anything else, was looking

Thd rangers reached the battle-ground first. Mrs
±|ursley rode up to Tom and offered him her gun, but
iom was past shooting. His friends lifted him up, threw
Him across a horse before one of the party, and turned to
retreat just as the Indians came up. They made good
their escape, and the Indians retired to the woods.

After being carried into the fort, Tom remained insen-
sible lor some days. His life was preserved only by
extreme and continued care. His friends extracted all
the bails except two which remained in his thigh. One
of these gave him great pain at times for several years.

all
a I
an

bu
su:
rei
W
rid
usi
pla

ass
edj
bo1
sail

no
noi
an(

NOETH AMEEICAN INDIANS.

although the flesh was healed. At length he heard that
a skilful physician had settled within a day's ride of him,
and Tom determined to go and see if he could help him!
The physician willingly undertook to extract the bullet,
but on condition that he should receive the exorbitant
sum of fifty dollars for the operation. This Tom flatly
refused to give, as it was more than half a year's pension
When he reached home, he found that the exercise of
riding had so much chafed the part, that the ball, which
usually was not discoverable to the touch, could no\7 be
plainly felt.

He requested his wife to hand him a razor. With her
assistance he deliberately laid open his thigh until the
edge of the razor touched the bullet. Then inserting
both his thumbs into the cut, he ''flirted it out'' as he
said, ''without costing a cent.''

The other ball remains in his limb yet, but gives him
no trouble except when he uses violent exercise. He is
now one of the most successful hunters in the country
and it still takes the best kind of a mm to handle him.

TALES OT THE

The life of an Indian woman, even though she may be
the favourite wife of a great chief, is always fraught with
toil and drudgery. The men will go through great
fatigue m war or m hunting, but any thing like regular
work they scorn. Scooping out canoes, building their
huts dressing the skms of animals, and cultivating the
earth, are abours which fall to the lot of the squaw; but
what IS still worse, they are obliged to carry all the heavy
burdens without any assistance from their husbands.
An Indian hunter, setting out in the morning before
sunrise, traverses the country for many miles in search
ol deer, and as he goes along he once in a while breaks
down a bush to serve as a mark for his wife, whose
business it is to find the game he has kiUed and carry it
home ; and as the animals sometimes lie at a great dis-
tance from each other, and she can carry but one at a
time, the toil she then encounters is truly grievous

In fishing and snaring birds the women are very
successful and uniting much art with insurmountable
patience, they catch great numbers of geese and ducks
which migrate to the lakes at certain seasons of the year
lo snare these birds in their nests requires a considerable
degree of art, and as the natives say, a great deal of
cleanliness; for they have observed that when the snares
have been set by those whose hands are not clean, the
bu-ds would not go into the nest.

Even the goose, though so simple a bird, is notoriously
known to forsake her eggs, if they have been breathed
on by the Indians.

mi ■!■.

j-ne smaller species of birds which make their nests on
the ground, are by no means so dcHcate, and of course

NOETH AMEEICAIT INDIANS.

e may be
aght with
gh great
e regular
ing their
iting the
mw; but
;he heavy
msbauds.
ig before
in search
e breaks
Q, whose

carry it
reat dis-
one at a
us.

ire very
ountable
d ducks
;he year,
dderable

deal of
e snares
ean, the

oriously
>reathed

lests on
' course

less care is necessary in snaring them. It has been
observed that all birds which build on the ground, go
into their nest on one particular side, and out of it on
the opposite. The Indians being accurate observers of
nature are well aware of this fact, and always set their
snares on the side on which the bird enters the nest ;
and if care be taken in setting them, seldom fail of
seizing their object. For small birds, such as larks, and
many others of equal size, the Indians generally use two
or three of the long hairs out of their own head; but for
larger birds, particularly swans, geese, and ducks, they
make snares of deer sinews, twisted like packthread,
and occasionally of a small thong cut from a dressed
deer-skm.

yf e may believe that women so trained are not very
delicate, or easily daun^ -d by any difficulties that may
befaJl them ; and in proof of this, I will relate an anecdote
as it was told by an English gentleman, who travelled
amongst the Northern Indians many years ago.

"On the eleventh of January, as some of my com-

panions were hunting, they observed the track of a

strange snow shoe,* which they followed, and at a

considerable distance came to a little hut, where they

discovered a young woman sitting alone. As they found

she understood their language, they brought her with

them to our tents. On examination she proved to be

one ot the Western Dog-ribbed Indians, who had been

taken prisoner by the Athapuscow Indians two summers.

ago, and last summer when the Indians that took her

prisoner were near this part, she escaped from them,

with the intention of returning to her own country • but

the distance being so great, and having after she was

taken prisoner, been carried in a canoe the whole way

the turnings and windings of the rivers and lakes were

so numerous, that she forgot the track; so she built the

* Snow shoes are from three to four feet In length, and ir^ro tha„ „ e^^i. „>^^ ._
I^^'^il'^'^ ' tiiey are snarp-pointed at both ends, the frames are made of birch-bark
and they are netted cross and cross with thongs of deer-skin, leavLJa hole ius^
tV^'t'^V'' f*™** ^^° ^"°t- Those shoes, being lar- Jd Ught^ Lable tha
Indians to travel over the snow with great facility. ' ^ ' ® ^^®

TALES OF THE

ever since the Lgtrngt^Xl'^" ''" "^^ '''''^'

From her account of the moons past since her clone-

wfthm t Weared that she had been nearly seven months

hafsuprtel herseT" '"•^^ <'rt8 ''" ^>'-h ti^e Ihe

^B^^ :H?ha7'2\xnrorfc

beavers and some porcupines. That she did not seem to

of prov::on's"bTho " T'^'^l*' ^ '^' '"«' " ™»Ji"
oi provisions by her when she was discovered- she wn»

t"theZe,t''T't ""-i, T'l'ti-. ""d wLceilt^^JyT;

.tntaf;;l!"aerict" "'""^" *'»* ^ ''='---

tr„tr„f fi ^?^ *™'y admirable, proving indeed the

of Mention ••#h'"l' '^^ "."'"'^'^y ^ *« ""ther
oi invention When the <ew deer sinews that ibp 1,»,1

an opportunity of taking with her we^^Iu exnended in
tTtZlTS'l -rS,*-.«>»tl^-g, :he haZothing
and fZf i Pu •? ^"* *« ^'"ews of the rabbits' leei

and luccUs The^r^' *.°^^*''^ T'* S^^* <!-*-*/
in her snt-s not ^?^ t ""-i squirrels which she caught
subrtence h'.it nf f?'^ furnished her with a comfortable

f J! '^ scarcely possible to conceive that a person in her
forlorn situation could be so composed as to be canable
of contmmg or executing any thing that was not Sbso
lutely necessary to her existence; but there were suffi

r»"l r" \*^"' ^u" ^!^ ^^tended'her care irh fur^hfr"
as all her clothing, beside being calculated for real sen^ice'

« "ThV^t ' "",' f.'^'T'l - little vaSy'o? ot'
nament. The materials, though rude, were verv curion =,1 v
fought, and so judiciously placed, L to gIvTthe wS

peiianS "^ ^'''''"^' "'""S'' -tl'er^omantiIJ

twSinill'i''? ''""" f™"-i'"?ting had been employedm
twisting the umer nnd or bark of willows into SLLnines,

NOETH AMEHICAlf INDIANS.

from the
id resided

her elope-
Bn months
1 time she
)artridges,
) or three
)t seem to
lall stock
; ehe was
*taiiily by
biave ever

procure
deed the
e mother
fc she had
ended in

1 nothing
bits' legs
dexterity
le caught
nfortable
neat and

m in her
capable
ot abso-
5re suffi-
further,
service,
iy of or-
urioualy
e w^hole
atic, ap-

loyed^in
ill lines,

like nettmg-twine, of which she had some hundred fathoms
by her ; with this she intended to make a fishing-net as
soon as the spring advanced. It is of the inner bark of
willows, twisted in this manner, that the Doff-ribbed
Indians make their fishing-nets ; and they are greatly
pr^erable to those made by the Northern Indians *

l<ive or SIX inches of an iron hoop, made into a knife,
and the shank of an iron arrow-head, which served her as'
an awl, was all the metal this poor woman had with her
when she eloped ; and with these implements she had
made herself complete snow-shoes, and several other
usetul articles.

Her method of making a f re was equally singular and
curious, having no other mat.^rials for that purpose than
two hard sulphureous stones. These, by long friction
and hard knockmg, produced a few sparks, which at
length communicated to some touchwood ; but as this
method was attended with great trouble, and not always
wit^ success, she did not suffer her fire to go out all the
winter. Hence we may conclude that she had no idea of
producing fire by friction in the manner practised by the
Jb^squimaux and other uncivilized nations : because tf she
Had, the above-mentioned precaution would have been
unnecessary.

"Wlien the Athapuscow Indians took this woman pri-
soner, they, according to the universal custom of those
savages, surprised her and her party in the night, and
killed every one m the tent except herself and three other
young women. Among those v^hom they destroyed were
her father, mother and husband. Her young child,
between four and five months old, she concealed in a
bundle of clothing, and took with her undiscovered in the
night ; but when she arrived at the place where the Atha-
puscow Indians had left their wives, (which was not far
distant,) they began to examine her bundle, and finding

^*7J]lNorthem Indians malke their flshfne-nets with «mnii thn „f *^„ -™

'#'

TALES OF THE

This last piece of barbarity gave her such a disgust
towards those Indians, that, notwithstanding the man
who took care of her treated her in every respect as weH
as he did his wife, and was, as she said, remarkably kind
to her, so tar was she from being able to reconcHe herself
to any of the tribe, that she rather chose to expose her-
sell to misery and want, than live in ease and abundance
among persons who had so cruelly murdered her infant

In a conversation with this woman soon afterwards
she told us that her country lies so far to the westward

till she was taken prisoner. All of her tribe, she observed
made their hatchets and ice-chisels of deers'-horns and
their knives of stones and bones; she told us that 'their
arrows were shod with a kind of slate, bones, or deers'-
horns ; and the mstruments which they employed to
make their wooden utensils were nothing but beavers'
teeth. Though they had frequently heard of theiSl
material, which the tribes to the east of them were sup-
plied with from the white men, so unwilling were they
to draw nearer for the sake of trading in iron, that on
the contrary they retreated further back, to avoid the
Athapuscow Indians, who made terrible slaughter among
them both m winter and summer. '^^on^

and imme-

NOETH AMEBICAN INDIAlfS.

a disgust
', the man
Jct as well
:ably kind
•ile herself
ipose her-
ibundance
3r infant,
fterwards,
westward
. of metal,
observed,
orns, and
that their
or deers'-
^loyed to
i beavers'
he n.seful
svere sup-
v^ere they
I, that on
avoid the
er among

Choctaw Indians; known bt theie white neigh

BOUES BY THE NAME OF " JeNNT AND HEE SON ToM."

" Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature."—K&T\i

chap. xvi. ver. 16.

Feom the time of the earliest English settlers in America,
there have been pious men, who, giving up all worldly
advantages, have endeavoured, by teaching the truths of
Christianity, to draw the Indians from their frightful
superstitions and cruelties. In many places they have
established schools, and it is a singular fact, that although
the Indians who have attained the age of twenty-five
years, constantly refused instruction for themselves, yet
they are generally anxious to have their children taught
the arts of civilized life. They also observe with much
mterest our fine gardens, our abundant crops, and our
numerous comforts and conveniences.

"I admire your manner of living," said a very sensible
Osage chief who had been twice to Washington, " I
admire your fields of corn, your cattle, and your
wonderful machines. I see that you are able to clothe
yourselves, even from weeds and grass ; you can subdue
every animal to your use ; you are masters of all ; every
thing about you is in chains; you are surrounded by
slaves— and you are slaves yourselves. If I were to
change my way of life for yours, I too should become a
slave. Talk to my sons, perhaps they may adopt your
lashions ; but for myself, I was born free, I was brought
Up free, and I wiii die ii'ee."

i i

TALES OF THE

All who have had opportunities of knowing the
Indian chi racter, agree that the affection between
parents and children is exceedingly strong, and instances
of their sacrificing their liv es 'for one anothei- are
numerous and well attested. The following atory, re-
lated to me by a lady of great respectability, who was an
eye-witness to a part of whet she relates, strikingly
illustrates the Indian character and customs, and shows
the high importance of giving to these natives of the
wilderness the benefits of our nligioa and laws.

To-ta-pia, or as the white people called her, Jenny,
was the widow of a Choctaw, wlio having murdered an
Indian of his own tribe, fled over the Mississippi into
Louisiana, where he was overtaken and put to death by
his pursuers. Jenny, with four or five small children, of
whom Tom was the eldest, afterwards settled in the
neighbourhood of St. Francisville in Louisiana, where
there hved a widow lady of much benevolence, who took
comppssion on Jenny, and acted towards her the part of
a kmc friend.

Wlen Tom was about twenty-five years of age, he
murdered an old Indian; for which, according to 'the
unalteiable law of his nation, his Hfe was forfeited, and
he was sentenced to die. The day fixed for his execution
was arrived, and a mingled throng of the relations and
friends , both of the murdered and the murderer, were
assembled after their usual manner, and all thing's were
J. 3ady for the execution of the culprit.

At this moment of great excitement, Jenny pressed
through the crowd to the spot where her son was standing,
and in a clear strong voice, addressed the chiefs and
company in these words. " Tom is young ; he has a wife
and children, brothers, and sisters, r.U looking to him for
support and counsel. I am old ; I have only a few years
to live ; I can do no more for my family. It is not just
either, to take a new shirt for art old one*,- let me there-
fore die, who am old, and suffer him to live."

NORTH 4MEBICAN INDIANS.

wing the

between

instances

)thei' are

story, re-

ho was an

strikingly

md shows

es of the

r, Jenny,
•dered an
sippi into
death by
ildren, of
d in the
la, where
who took
e part of

age, he
g to the
sited, and
execution
ions and
'er, were
ugs were

' pressed
standing,
liefs and
as a wife
) him for
"ew years
not just
ae there-

ber son was

Jenny 8 magnammous offer was accept«'d, and a few
hours allowed her to prepare for death. In this
interval she hurried to the hou.e of her kind friend,
Mrs Thompson, whose residence was near this scene
for the purpose of giving her a last look, and bidding her
farewell. T ,,s lady was ignorant of what had passed in
the Indian village near her, and of Jenny's offer and
determmation; nor did Jenny now divulge them to
Mrs. rhompsoii She came, she said, to beg ji coffin

and a winding sheet J or her

son

adding,

When the

^ ,„„ j,^i ,i^i ouji , <iuuiuij, w nen tne
r. '' ^' Tf"'^ itH height, (pointing upwards,) Tom
dies JV(,t suspecting the arrangement Jenny had

made to preserve her son's life, Mrs. Thompson, with
many comforting words, promised to give her aU she
re^uesretl. ^w

Soon after Jeuiy had left Mrs. Thompson's house
and returned to the village, where all things were ready
tor her execution, a m-^ssenger in great ha fo arrived
and informs I that lady of what was passing, and that
Jenn - wa^ immediufely to die. ^he instantly set off
with the intention of rescuing the poor creature ; but
the moment Jeniiy saw her carriage coming, she doubt-
less imagined what the intenhon was, and resolved that
no mterlerence shoulr^ take place, for she caught the
muzzle of the guu, ana pointing it to her heart, bid the
executioner do his duty. He obeyed, and she fell dead

During five years after this, Tom was tre. ed with
contempt and sneers by the famHy of the old m n n hom
he haa murdered. "You are a co.^ard ; you ,et yo^
mother die for you; you afraid to ^i^cowardr Tom
coiild no longer endure this, and one day, meeting a son
of the old man on < e bank of the Mississipoi, ten miles
Ir.ni his home they be. m as usual to quarrel, and in
the end Tom plunged his knife into his breast ind left
him dead on the spot.

So far from thinking that he had committed a horn-

Die crime, he returned home i^i a +T>ii^rv.,.i — j. .

brandishing his bloody knife ; and without waiting fo^

TALES OP THE

enquiry, boontod of what he Imd done. " T have been
called a coward," said he, " I have been told I was afraid
to die; now you shnll see that I can die like a man."
This was on tlie Sunday, and Mo?iday, at twelve o'clock,
was the time he appointed for his death.

Here a scene was i)ivsented which baffles all descrip-
tion. Tom walked backward and forward, still holding
in his hand the bloody knife, which he seemed to con-
sider an honourable bad^re. But in s])ite of all his efforts
to conceal it, he discovered marks of an agitated mind.
The sad group present consisted of about ten men and
as many women ; the latter with sorrowful countenances
were employed in makiuir an over-shirt for Tom',^ burial.
All the men present, except Tom's two brothers, were
smoking their pipeC^ith ajjparent unconcern. Tom
remained silent; he examined his gun, then he laid him-
self down in his grave, which had been dug the day
before, as if to see whether it suited as to leueth and
breadth. ^

When the shirt w^as completed and handed to him, he
drew it over his other garments, tied two black silk hand-
kerchiefs oyer his shoulders, and crossed them on his
breast. His long hair was tied with a blue riband and
tastefully arranged upon his back. The pipe of peace
went round three times : the old chief's wife then arose,
retired among the bushes, and sung the death-song of the
Choctaw Indians, which begins with these words, " Time
is done, Death approaches'^

This being ended, Tom went round and shook hands
with every person present. While he held the hand of
one of his neighbours, a white man, he said to him, " Fare-
well ; you see me no more in this world. When you die,
you see me." His neighbour said, " Tom, where are you
going?" "I am going to mother," said Tom. "Where
IS your mother ?" " In a good place." " But, Tom, will
you not wait ? Perhaps the friends of the young man
you killed will accept a ransom ; we will do what we can
to save you." Tom replied, " No, I will die."

^^^

«l

ave heen
n» afraid
a man."
i o'clock,

(loscrip-
holdinjj
I to eon-
is t'fforts
13d mind,
men and
tenanccs
^^ burial.
rs, were
. Tom
lid liim-
tlie day
gth and

him, he
Ik liand-
on his
and and
)!' peace
n arose,
ff of the
, " Time

k hands
hand of

" Fare-
you die,
are you
' Where
om, will
ng man

we can

WORTH AMEBICAH- ITOIAIfS. e7

No ono had demanded lik <l»nfi, e n ,.
would have considered it thpir ,?,!?; T ""*'"«"' who
distance of fiftv . r sTxtv .ntT tV" '*".""' ''"''' »' t^e
Mississippi. The de^th H n „ ^^ "*''"• ''''''' "^ the
shaking ,■ hands Both w*' ^*' repeated, and the

of age, with an inlant h^ZZ a .d ,? f 1 '"' rlY ^"'™
t^vo or three years old stamfi "g by ^^St:l'"^" '^''"f
to lier the lih,odv kniCe whie tilf .V^ \ I""'^^«''ited
hand. 8he tiirne'd -iw .v U,ir 1 * ''" ''"•' '"^^1'' "" his
reeoverin.- Wso f lonL f ,' •'' *" T'"'"' her tears, but

on some <l n ^in ct '^^^1 f ?*^ " "'""'' «*"«
never bel,eld. Vl rpi ie it "Le ?n v"* ^"'^"'' "*' ""« ^

who str„,«,ed harder eon?: [ t'^nSr h'"I1"''
drank a tt e water threw tl,,, ^ ,"'","""■ He then

sung a few worfs i J t rChttrh, ''" "" *^S>-°""d.
a™ step, hastened t, wLdrh sL' e^T' "'"' *'*'' »
feed as to enable bin, to take hfs „\™ m T. "™ 1°
had declared, should take it from hi n The f "'"'' ^^
being completed he toiicb,>,l f^ •. ,. eeremoiues

the/onton'ts l-al^d thr S 1 1 hf :"t ''^'''^rseA and
dead on the earth Tl.„ , ™ "istant y fell

less body ; some eld hi heT7.P''"T- '^"''^ 'he^life-
and othiL's kSatbt sfde 'gerJ"',''""'^^™''*''^^*.
show no signs of erief wbi » ^ r i'f '''""'fe""^ ^era to
his resolutfon ^ ^ ^^ ''™'^' '''^* '* should shake

As far as possible, thev had nbo™^ rp. •
restrained tfu he was Tead Tt T . ^hen- g„ef was

Bospel, that w„„lViTlL!°T «''* hy o„e „y of the

-^^■-■"i'--^»th-rbito^^

TALES OF THE

perishing by thousands for lack of knowledge! And
who would not, in such circumstances, endeavour, not
coldly nor inactively, but with all their soul, and all
their might, to send the blessings of Christianity
amongst them ?

re I And
i/Vour, not
I, and all
iristianity

ifOBTH AMEEICAN IKDIANS.

§. §mf lOTnt Gf }|^ Iris Mtoto Irj tk

lif the introduction it was mentioned that some few arts
were cultivated by the Indians, and as these are cirried

of s'ucTt^nr ^' -r^ '^ P^^^^^*^^^ ^*hout the hdp
of such tools as civihzed man possesses, perhaps it wiU
be worth while to give a fuller description of them
Beginning then with the most useful of aU' their

8ome'ideTo7 ^ 1^'''^"^ '' ^^' «^^ ^^^^^ ^^^S
some idea of an Indian canoe ; its slender and elegant

form Its rapid movement, its capacity to bear burdens
and to resist the rage of billows and torrents mus?
excite ^no small degree of admiration for the sSl ^th
which it IS constructed.

The difference however, both as to form and material
between the canoes used by different tribes is very great
some oemg merely the trunks of trees which ha^eTeen
hollowed by the aid of fire and sharp stones- whilst
those of the North-western tribes are most laborrouslv
constructed of the bark peeled from the whife b[ ch t

ribf to f '.T^ ^'""'r'' ^ «l^^d^^ fr-«^« of cedar
nbs, to which It IS sewed with the long flexible roots of

tight by a coat of pitch which has been thickened by

}''^- ..P'^ ^^*^^^ I^^^n« ^o ^ot use oars but a
cedar paddle, with a light and slender blade. The largest
of these canoes are commonly thirty-five feet long and
SIX feet wide m the widest' part, tapering graduaUy
towards the ends, which are brought to a^wedge^Hke

Sr; 'so *'r^ '^^\^" '^' '^'^^^^^ to.S the
centre, so as to resemble, in snmf. flAm.oo +t,« u^„j „p

TALES or THE

a violin Such a canoe, beinnr paddled by eight men,
irequently carries between three and four tons burden '
every night it is unloaded, and with the baggage, carried
on shore, lour men being sufficient for this purpose.

feuch are the vessels in which Europeans, ado])ting the
customs of the savages, first entered the great cham of
American lakes, and in which they have successively
discovered, the Mississippi, the Columbia, and the Arctic
bea ; m short, they have been employed by every travel-
ler in that region from the time of the first Catholic
missionaries to tlie present day.

The fishing-nets of the Indians have already been
mentioned in the "Adventures of an Indian Woman-"
some of them are as regular and beautiful in their
structure as the netting of an English lady. The In-
dians also make baskets of several kinds ; sorn^; larc^e and
coarse, some very delicate and pretty ; these last are
woven with tlie dried leaves of the silk grass. They make
a variety of fans, for cooling themselves and drivhigaway
the mosquitoes in hot weather. Some of tliese are made
o± the tail-feathers of the wild turkey, or other laro-e bird
spread out in the natural manner, the quills'' being
gathered together to a point and inserted in a handle
Others are made of large pieces of white birch bark,
worked m a variety of patterns with stained porcupine
quills. This work is sometiiues as tastefully formed, and
delicately shaded, as any embroidery of fine w^ool

Their manner of dressing the skins of tlie buftalo, deer
mountam-goat, and many others, is very admirable for
they retain their suppleness, however thick, even after
they have been repeatedly wetted, k robe of the moun-
tain goat, or, as it is commonly called, the mountain sheep-
skm, is a dress fit for a chief's wife. The wool, which is
exceedingly fine and soft, is worn outwards in summer
but m winter inwards.

Mocassins are usually made of deer-skin ; they are a
kind ol high shoe, turned down round the top. They are
as supple as a pair of thick leather gloves, so that the
wearer enjoys the full use of his foot, which with our stiflT

KORTH AMERICAN INDTAXS.

71'

^lit men,
burden ;
3, carried
ose.

jtin^ the
chain of
cessively
le Arctic
J travel-
Catholic

dy been
'^oman;"
in their
The In-
irge and
last are
ey make
ng away
re made
ge bird,
i being
handle.
'h bark,
rciipine
led, and

o, deer,
ble, for
n after
> moun-
1 sheep-
hich is
rnimer,

are a

ley are
at the
iir stiff

shoes we are m great measure deprived of The elabo-
rate embroidery which is bestowed upon some of the
mocassins, shot-bags, and powder and tobacco pouches is
quite surprising, and well worth a particular description •
though tlie patience and ingenuity displayed by the Indian
women m ornamenting these and many other articles can
scarcely be appreciated by those who have never seen
specimers of their skill.

_ The quills of the American porcupine rarely exceed two
inches and a half in length, aid areSiot large^r hi c^rcum!
lerence than a small wheat straw ; yet we htve seen iX
surfaces worked or embroidered i^ ^he neaS and S
beautiful manner with these quills, which are dved of
various rich and permanent coburs. In making this em
broidery they have not the advantage of a needle, but uTe
a straight awl. «ome of their work is done by' pass ng

^ith the a^Nl, and at every stitch wrapping this thread
with one or more turns of a porcupine Vuill. Whe the
J^mll IS wound nearly to the end, tie extremitv is tT^ned
into the skin, or is concealed by the succeeding turn, so
as to appear, when the whole is completed, as if it had

of drertrV"'^ ^"^]^ '^'' ""^ ^'^'^ ^^^^ -^^ '-article
of dress, the figures of ammals are ingeniously formed
with these quills ; in others the strong contrast of colours
m an extremely beautiful pattern is all that is aimed at

X eathers are worn as ornaments in the head by the
men on y, and some of the head-dresses composed of' them
are truly magmficent. It should be observed, that both

when fLv 1 r-f r* \^\ P'^'"^^'^ ^ ''""Sle lock that
7t r.-l ^ let It down, trails on the ground as they walk.
faVtn^f r''^^ T^ enumerate the different articles manu-
factured by the Indians, though so few compared with
those of civilized nations-their bows, their irrows and
spears their quivers, children's cradles, rattles, &c., &c.,

Lste ThP^.^^j: «™"^^^*^d -^d display considerable
taste. Iheir tobacco-pipes, too, are of irreat imnorf nn<

¥4

TALES OF THE

m their estimation ; so much so, that although different
nations of Indians make the most cruel wars against one
another, yet there are places where their hostilities are
suspended while they are in search of a species of red
stone, which they stand in need of for making their pipes.
t ' :?'' ^P"^P^®' J» a certain spot on the Missouri,
Where the bitterest enemies may be seen working quietly
near one another, cutiing this stone, which they all alike
want. There are many other such places, equally sacred,
and no instance has ever occurred of these places becom-
ing the scenes of contention.

The common pipes are made of clay, the tubes are all
made of wood, which has a small pith easily thrust out ;
but those for the use of their chiefs, and for the pipe of
peace are made of the above-mentioned red stone It is
solt when first dug, but becomes harder on exposure to the
air. J he pipes made of this material are always much
carved, and the stems ornamented in a fantastic manner

Utten as we hear wampum mentioned as an article of
traffic with the Indian tribes, yet I believe many people
are not at all aware what is meant by the term.

When America was discovered by the Europeans, this
wampum was the only current money amongst the natives.
It was made with great labour out of a thick shell, in
shape somewhat like the oyster, but smooth, and of a
beautiful purple near the hinge. It was cut in small
oblong pieces, and after being drilled through and polished
was strung close together in long bands varying from'
about two to nine inches in width. The purple wampum
was considered much more valuable than the white a
very small part of the shell being of that colour. Beside
being used as a medium of exchange, it served as an orna-
ment lor both men and women when they intended to
appear m full dress.

There is a great variety of gourds grown now in North
America by the white people, as the climate is particu-
larly well suited to this tribe of plants. Those chiefly
used as food for cattle are generally called pumpkins ;
there are also several kinds of squashes, which are escel-

NOETH AMEEICAN INDIANS.

different
inst one
ties are
) of red
ir pipes,
lissouri,
J quietly
all alike
^ sacred,
becom-

3 are all
ist out;

pipe of
. It is
e to the
s much
anner.
•tide of

people

as, this
latives.
hell, in
id of a
I small
)li8hed,
§• from
impum
'^hite, a
Beside
a orna-
ded to

North
articu-
chiefly
pkins ;
excel-

lent eating when cooked in the same manner as we cook
turnips, which they resemble in taste more than any
thing else that I can compare them with. Some too are
grown merely as ornamental plants in gardens, such as
the little orange-gourd, and others. But the Indians
cultivate them not only for food, but for the use of their
shells as they are called, though, in fact, it is only the
hard rind of the gourd, which being perfectly ripened,
becomes so hard that, when the inside is taken out, it may
be used for spoons, ladles, bo^ls, and dishes ; rattles too
are made of them, not only for their children, but for
playing certain games, in which men as well as youths
frequently join.

TALES OF THE

#■

Thebb is a little stream which runs into that most heau^
tiful of ah rivers, the nohle Hudson, that still bears tTe
name oi the Man/erer', Cr^e/k, thou;,'h few perhans can
tdl why ,t was so ealled. About a century a|o t e'beau"
tifu region watered by this strean, was ] ossessed bv a
sma 1 tr.be of Indians which bas long since become ex-
thfweVt"™''"r'b'?''''' with «Mne more powerful nation of
of tbi?ii ;i ■ '"' {"■"' '"""'"■<' y'™l» 1"»" tlie mouth

of the tr tr f" '«," '"S-''";"*''' I'y tacit permission
o the t ,be to whom Stacey liud made himself' useful by
ins skill m a variety of arts highly estimated by the
savages In partienlar a friendship subsisted between
hi,,, and an old iidian, ealled Naonlan, who often Tame
to his house, and partook of his hospitality. The family
eonsisted o Stacey, his wife, and tw'o chilLn, a boran-d
a girl, the former five and the latter three yeara old

nn» ^ T ''"'"''' ^"'■Sive injuries nor forget benefits.

tine day Naoman came to Htaeey's log-house in his
absence, lighted his pipe, and sat do«-n. lie Sed un!
w3 ^ ZT'' ^°'".«ti>f^«,igl<eJ deeply, but said not a
word. Stacey s wife asked him what was the matter-if
he were ,1? He shook his head, but said nothing and
soon went away. The next day he came and behaved
m the same manner. Stacey's wife began to think there
was something strange in all this, and acquainted her
husband with the matter as soon as he came home He

fn ease he sb° TF *''" "''*■'""" *" ''^P''"" ^^' """duct!

day.^ After much importuniV the'oid MiiratTa"st re^

ins m this manner. " I am a red man.

plied to her questions

and the pale faces* are our enemies : why should

• The Indians call all white people the pale /aces.

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

speak? "But my husband and I are your friends-
you have eaten bread with us a hundred times, and my
children have sat on your knees as often. If you have
any thx.ig on your mind, tell it me now." " It will cost
me my life if it is known, and you white-faced women are
not good at keeping s(^ercts," replied Naoman. "Try
me, and you will find that I can," said she. " Will you
swear by the Cxreat Spirit that you will teH none but
your husband ?" " I have no one else to tell " " But
will you swear ?" " I do swear bv our Great Spirit that

\ in ,*nJ '''''''' ^^* '""y ^iii«band." "Not if my tribe
should kill you for not telling V" - No, not thougl-. your
tribe should kill me for not telling?" Naoman then
proceeded to tell her, that owing to the frequent en-
croachments of the white people on their land at the foot
ol the mountains, his tribe had become exceedingly angry
and were resolved that night to massacre all the white
settlers withm their reach ; that she must send for her
husband, and inform him of the danger, and as secretly
and speedily as possible, take their canoe, and paddle with
all haste over the river to FishkiU for safety. " Be quick
and cause no suspicion," said Naoman as he departed.

I he good wife instantly sought her husband, who was
down on the river fishing, told him the story, and as na
time was to be lost, they proceeded to their boat, which
was unluckily filled with w^ater. It took some time -to
clearitout; and meanwhile Stacey recollected his gun
which he had left behind. He went to his house, and
returned with it. All this took a considerable time, and
precious time it proved to tliis poor family.

The daily visits of Naoman, and his more than ordinary
^avity, had excited suspicion in some of his tribe, who
therelore now paid particular attention to the movements
ot Stacey One of the young Indians who had been
kept on the watch, seeing the whole family about to take
the boat, ran to the little Indian viUage about a mile
on, and gave the alarm.

rive stout Indians immediately collected and ran
down to the river where their canoes were moored

TALES OP THE

jumped in, and paddled after Stacey who by this time
had got some distance out into the stream. They gained
upon him so fast, that twice he dropped liis paddle and
took up his gun. But his wife prevented his shooting,
by telling him that if he fired, and they were afterwards
overtaken, they would meet with no mercy from the
Jnduins. He accordingly refrained, and plied his paddle
till tlie sweat rolled in big drops down his forehead All
would not do ; they were overtaken within a hundred
yards from the opposite shore, and carried back with
shouts and yells of triumph.

The first thing the Indians did when they got ashore
was to set fire to Stacey's house. They thtm dragged
him, his wife and children, to their village. Here the
principal old men, and Naoman among them, assembled
to deliberate on tie affair. The chief men of the council
expressed their opinion that some of the tribe had been*
guilty of treason, in apprizing Stacey, the white man, of
their designs, whereby they took alarm and had well
nigh escaped. They proposed that the prisoners should
be examined m order to discover who was the traitor.
Ihe old men assented to this, and one of them who spoke
J^nghsh began by interrogating Stacey, and interpreted
what was said to the others. Stacey refused to betray
his informant. His wife was then questioned, while two
Indians stood threatening the children with their tom-
aha,wks, m case she did not confess.

She attempted to evade the truth, by pretending that
she had a^ dream the night before, which had warned her
a m7' ?? *hat she had persuaded her husband to do so.
ihe Great Spirit never deigns to talk in dreams to the
white faces, said. one of the old Indians; "Woman
thou hast two tongues and two faces; speak the truth'
or thy children shall surely die." The little boy and
girl were then brought close to her, and the two savages
^^^fYi^ye^ *bem ready to execute their cruel orders.

Wilt thou name that red man," said the old Indian

who betrayed his tribe ? I will ask thee three times."'

Xhe mother made no answer. " Wilt thou name the

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

traitor? This is the second time." The poor woman
looked at her husband, and then at her children, and
stole a glance at Naoman, who sat smoking his pipe with
invincible gravity. She wrung her hands and wept, but
remained silent. " Wilt thou name the traitor ? I ask
you for the third and last time." The agony of the
mother was more and more intense: again she sought
the eye of Naoman, but it was cold and motionless. A
moment's delay was made for her reply. She was silent.
The tomahawks were raised over the heads of her chil-
dren who besought their m- ther to release them.

"Stop," cried Naoman. All eyes were instantly
turned upon him. "Stop," repeated he, in a tone of
authority. "White woman, thou hast kept thy word
with me to the last moment. Chiefs, I am the traiior.
I have eaten the bread, warmed myself at the lire, and
shared the kindness of these Christian white people,
and it was I who told them of their danger. I am a
withered, leafless, branchless trunk j cut me down if you
will : I am ready to fall."

A yell of indignation resounded on all sides. Naoman
descended from the little bank of earth on which he sat,
shrouded his dark countenance in his buffalo robe, and
calmly awaited his fate. He fell dead at the feet of the
white woman, by the blow of the tomahawk.

But the sacrifice of Naoman, and the heroic firmness
of the Christian white woman, did not suffice to save the
lives of the other victims. They perished— how, it is
needless to say ; but the memory of their fate has been
preserved in the name of the beautiful little stream on
whose banks they lived and died, which to this day is
called the Murderers Creek.

TALES OP THE

a 1 t]o tobacco to fi 1 Ins pipe with. Having sou e loo e
III h pocket, the white man gave him a handful

Ihe following day the Indian returned in ..arch of
the man wlio had given him the tobacco. ^

« i\r . liHpiired some one

Me find ^;^o/^^y with the tobacco he gave i.io "

;; Wei , what of that ? keep it ; it was^^i^en to you "
Ah, said the Indian, shaking his head "m? r.nf

'd man and hnd mnn /,..,." ±-J.'^^\. ^^< S^t

good „,a„ say, ' That noirf^iit iXryo^^^^To
yours : bad man say, ' Never mind, nobody know ft 1

poor Indian know not what to do ; me lie down to sleen
but no sleep-good man and bad man talk aU nid>t and
» me; so aow I brmg money back; nowte'feel

aOJim AMT^Rl^AN INDIANS.

NoTmyci has so umch caused the JestructioTi nf ih.
•Tncliau Iribes ns their entire w.nf '".. . 9^^^^ «* *^»e
themselves. TJiey are mrn >t,?.: I nf '^^ ^T''^'^
another, and thouilht'vo Woe l-h '""' T'^^ """
join for a -luk^^hei fr e Mp so " r^^
Almost the only Exceptions to th/s ^ ! Z/t^ toTe
found ,n the Instc.ries of Pontiae, and of Tee u >eh two
extraordinary men, of whose exploits at dii re t periods
1 inteiul to give some account periods,

The town of Detroit, which is beaul ^fully situated oti
t^ie western side of Lake Erie, is one of theUst ancien?
-European settlements in the new worhl Imv.',. I

™d to b, the Jesuit .„i.i::;rt^ .ti^ez

In the year 17G3 it contained a ffarrison of t1>rp»
hundred men under Slajor Gladwyn, whS was besS
by a confederacy of Indian tribe' headed by Ponttc an
Ottaway chief, who disphvyed such boldness in hi" ce^^,?,
such slul m negociation,and such persMal cour'Ti '
war that he may justly be considered one "ftrereatest
men that has ever appeared amongst the North IStan
^ibes He was the decided and constant enemy of the
British governmeut and excelled all his contemporaries
m both ment. and bodily vigour. His consSv fn^
taking possession of the town of Detroit and de toovk^
the garrison, although frustrated, is a masterpiece aS

at the battle oi Bloody Bridge, stands unparalleled in
the history of Indian wars, fo? the decision and stead v
courage by which in an open light it was ac wl ""''^

■f

V. _ •

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

W-

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1.0

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!|i^ IIM

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L25 ijA 111.6

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Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. 14580

(716) 87^-4503

VHB

<i'. «?

°^

TALES OP THE

At the time when Pontiac formed his plan, everr
appearance of war was at an end, and the Indians being
on a friendly footing, he approached the fort without
exciting any suspicions either in the governor or the
inhabitants. He encamped at a little distance from it
and sent to let the commander know that he was come
to trade; and wishing to brighten the chain of peace*
between the English and his nation, desired that he and
his chiefs might be admitted to hold council with him.
The governor, still unsuspicious, and not in the least
doubting the sincerity of the Indians, granted Pontiac's
request, and fixed on the next morning for their reception.
The evening of that day, an Indian woman, who had
been employed by Major Gladwvn to make him a curious
pair of mocassins, or Indian shoes, out of an elk-skin,
brought them home. The Major was so much pleased
with them that, intending these as a present for a friend,
he ordered her to take the remainder of the skin back'
and make it into others for himself. He then directed
his servant to pay her for those she had made, and
dismissed her. The woman went to the outer dcor but
no further, there she loitered about as if she had not
finished the business on which she came. A servant at
length observing her, asked her why she stayed there •
however she returned no answer. '

Shortly after this the Major himself saw her, and
enquired of his servant what occasioned her to stay;,
but not being able to get a satisfactory answer, he desired
the woman to be called in. When she came into his
presence he desired to know the reason of her loitering
about, instead of hastening home before the gates were
shut for the night. She toid him with much hesitation,
that as he had always behaved with great goodness
towards her, she was unwilling to take away the remain-
der of the skin, because he set so high a value on it ^
and yet had not before had the courage to tell him so.'^
He then asked her why she should scruple to take it
now, more than when she made the first pair. With
• This is one of the flguratiye expressions often usccl by the Indians.

NOETH AMEEICAN INDIANS.

=:i:rxet t a Z-- -fdr '* -

in her bosom for uttt^niif^P Af i . .X. i • ^^^"gg"^g

and msta„ti;Zo"„;d 2 *" "^f "P'

effeetpd tl,,/ tv, "'' compauions. Having

dismissed her with miunctioT.rnf!l ' H ^«^™or

precaution that L timeCoId adn^t of 'T. "'f/"!}
round the fort during the whoi;St:'a.d'':arS

t i

TALES OF THE

every sentinel was on duty, and every weapon of defence

in right order

As h( crossed the ramparts which lay nearest to the
Indian camp, he heard them unusually merry and noisy •
—little imagining that their plot was discovered, they
were probably n-joicing in their anticipated success. As
soon as morning dawned, he ordered all the garrison
under arms, and then imparting his apprehension to the
principal officers, gave them such directions as he
thought necessary. At the same time he sent messen-
gers privately to all the traders in the town, to inform
them, that as it was expected a great number of Indians
would enter the town that day, who might be inclined
to plunder, he desired that th'ey would have their arms
ready to repel any attempt of the kind.

At about ten o'clock, Pontiac and his chiefs arrived ;
they were conducted to the council chamber, where the
Major and the other officers, each with a loaded pistol in
his belt, awaited his arrival. As the Indians passed on,
they could not help observing that a greater number of
troops than usual were drawn up on the parade, or
marching about. No sooner were they entered, and
seated on the mats prepared for them, than Pontiac
asked the governor for what purpose Ms young men,
meanmg the soldiers, were thus drawn up and parading
about the iort. The Major answered that it was only
intended to keep them perfect in lieir exercise.

The Indian chief now began his speech, which contained
the strongest professions of friendship and good-will
towards the English ; but when he came to the' delivery
of the belt of wampum, the particular manner of which,
according to the woman's information, was to be the'
signal for his chiefs to lire, the governor and all the
other officers drew their swords half way out of their
scabbards ; and the soldiers at the same instant made a
clattering with their arms before the door, which had
been purposely left open. Pontiac, though one of the
boldest of men, was troubled, and changed countenance ;
and instead of delivering the belt in the manner agreed

NOETH AMERICAN INDIANS.

of defence,

rest to the
and noisj;
^ered, tliey
ccess. As
e garrison
don to the
)ns as he
it messen-
to inform
of Indians
le inclined
their arms

is arrived;
where ' the
[1 pistol in
passed on,
number of
3arade, or
ered, and
1 Pontiac
mnt/ men,
parading
was only

contained
good-will
3 delivery
of which,
:;o be the
d all the
; of their
it made a
hich had
le of the
itenance ;
er agreed

upon, he gave it m the usual way. His chiefs, who had
impatiently expected the signal, looked at each other
with astonishment, but remained silent, waiting the

The Major then made his speech ; but instead of
thanking the chief for the professions of friendship he
had just uttered, he plainly accused him of beinc a
traitor. He told him that the English who knew ev^erv
thing, were convinced of his treachery and villainous
designs ; and as a proof that they were weU acquainted
with his most secret thoughts and intentions, he stepped
towards the chief w^ho sat nearest to him, and suddenlv
drawing aside his robe, discovered the shortened firelock
This entirely disconcerted the Indians, and frustrated
their designs.

He then continued to tell them, that as he had dven
his word at the time they desired an audience that th-ir
persons should be safe, he would hold his proimse
inviolable, though they so little deserved it but he
aavised them to make the best of their way oit of the
fort, lest his young men, on being acquainted with their
abominable treachery, should fall on them and cut them
all to pieces,

Pontiac endeavoured to clear himself from the accu
sation, and to make excuses for his suspicious conduct
but the governor was too well assured of the falseness
of his protestations to listen to him. The Indians
immediately left the fort, but instead of being sensible
ol the governor's generous conduct, they now threw off
the mask, and the next day made a regular attack upon
the English, • ^

Major Gladwyn has been much censured for this
mistaken lenity ; for probably, had he kept a few of the
principal chiefs prisoners whilst he had them in his
power, he might have been able to bring the confederate!
nations to his own terms, and thus prevented a war • but
he atoned for this oversight, by the gallant defence he
made for more than a year, amidst every variety of dis
couragement. The siege of Detroit waa all this time

TALES OF THE

continued by Pontiae, and the garrison, though gallantly
defended by the British commander, suffered severely
and the confederate Indians were frequently on the point
of carrying the town by assault. At length the approach
ol General Bradstreet with 3000 men, struck the Indians
with consternatuui, and they met him with offers of
peace at Miami Bay. Shortly after, Pontiae fled to
Illinois, where m the year 1767 he was murdered by an
Indian who was friendly to the British.

t (

1- *

igh gallantly
•ed severely,
on the poiut
the approach
the Indians
th offers ot'
biac fled to
dered by an

KOETH AMERICAN INDIANS.

f It laibtn's $tttl

character of a la^to XcTthe^eSXr^::^
the name of lake Pepin. This lake is twenty-one mTs

nearly fills the valley between the majestic heights which
extend along the shores in a more rc^gular manner than
ge hUls which are i:ou„d on the banks of tSe r ve°
Here, too, instead of the rapid current of the Mississi^ni
winding around numerous islands, with surfaces sZe
times covered with wood, and sometime mere bCn"
tracts of sand, the lake presents an unbroken eTpan^ of

r^mi^f 't'Tf"'' ""•,?^*''° fi-id still aXmooth
aa a m^r. The Indians will not cross the lake when
the wind IS strong, for though small, it is deep and eTsHv
agitated so much as to mate it dangerous fo; a m^T
expose himself to it« waves in a fraU canoe

rt. l^i 77 ''P. *•"* 1*« Jt« "astern bank rises to
the height of five hundred feet. The lower rtJ!
hundred ieet consist of a very abn.pt tdprecipta:
nXd ™ck :f 'r •*''^ watir's edg^ to theTaT^™
hfgher. ' ™'' perpendicularly two hundred

w J*".! '■",'^T "^ ^H ''""«"7 " such' that the traveller
who has already gazed with delight on the high Ss on
either side of the Mississippi, is struck with adSi^n
on beholding this beautifuf spot. Here he^riU s^ S
steep cniggy rock, whose bL is washed by aw de
^xpanse of water, generally with a calm unruffle^d suXe

TALES OF THE

contracting strongly with tlio savage features of the
surrounding landscape. Cold must the heart of that
man be, who can contemplate unmoved and uninterested
the ^stupendous cliffs tluit enclose this lak(> !

Father Henne])in, the first whi.e man who ever saw
it, calls it the Lake of Tears, because his party having
been taken prisoners by the Indians, a consultation
respecting their fate was held at the base of these
precipices, when it was resolved that he and his com-
panions should be put to death the following day ; from
which fate they were however delivered. The deeds of
cruelty, of danger, and of daring, which have here been
perpetrated, will never be unfolded; but there is a tale,
told indeed by a savage, yet of so much interest that
many a heart has been made sad by its recital. AVe
cannot reconimend it as an example, 'but it shows, not-
withstanding the apathy and inditierence to fate which
is usually nnputed to the red men of America, that
they do possess the feelings of our common nature.

Twenty years ago there was in the nation of the
iJacotas an aged and celebrated chief, w^hose name was
Wapasha. It was in the time of his father, who was
also a chief, that one of the most melancholy transac-
tions that ever occurred among the Indians, took place
at the spot we have described above.

There was at that time in the village of Keoxa, in the
tribe of Wapasha, a young woman, whose name was
Winona, which signifies the first horn. She was dear
to her parents, and a favourite with the whole tribe.
She had promised to spend her life with a young hunter
of the same nation, who was strongly attached to
her. He applied to her parents for leave to marry
her, but was greatly surprised when they refused
him, and told him that their daughter was already
promised to a warrior of distinction. The latter
had acquired a name by the services he had ren-
dered to his village when it was attacked by the
Chippewas, and encouraged by Winona's parents and
brothers, he urged his claim with great assiduity, but

NOmn AMEKICAN INDIANS.

fcuros of the
loart of that
unintereBted

ho ever saw
)arty having
consultation
lae of these
Jul his com-
g day ; from
rhe deeds of
ve here been
ere is a tale,
ntorest that
•ecital. AVe

shows, not-
» fate which
nerica, that
lature.
tion of the
ie name was
)r, who was
oly traiisac-

took place

3oxa, in the
name was
le was dear
i^hole tribe,
img hunter
attached to
I to marry
ley refused
as already
The latter
5 had ren-
d by the
arents and
iduity, but

she still refused him, and persisted in her preference for
the hunter. *

To tlie reconmiendation of her friends in favour of the
warrior, she replied, that she had chosen a hunter who
would spend his life witli her, but if she accepted the
warrior, he would be constantly absent from her on
some exphjit, exposing himself to danger and his family
to hardslnp: Winona's expostulations were of no avail
with her parents, and after they had succeeded in drivini;
away hei- over, they used harsh means to induce her
to marry the man they had chosen. Till now Winona
had always been the delight of her parents, and had

thrMhinH"^ ^^^' ''''' '"^ ''"''''^ ""'^^ ''"'"''" amongst

About this time a party was formed in the village to

go to lake Pepin, to procure a supply of the blue clay

which IS found upon its shores, and which is used by the

wTr /w" P^'P^'^ ^*' V^'^^^^g- The parents and
brothers of Winona were of the party, and slie also was
with them. On the day of their visit to the lake, her
brothers made presents to the warrior, and encouraged
by this he again addressed her, and was again rejected,
ller lather, who was not accustomed to be contradicted
became more and more angry, and declared that the'
marnage snould take place that very day

T a-a}^""^ T '''' ^^P^'" «^id Winona; "I told you
J. did not love him, and I would not live with him I
wished to remain unmarried since you have driven the
hunter away from me, but you would not permit it. Is

Him that loves me away from our village, and now he
wanders alone m the forest ; he has no on^ to build his
lodge, no one to spread his blanket, and wait on him
when he returns home, weary and hungry from the
chase. J3ut even this is not enough ; you would hire

another. Casting a melancholy look on her father and
mother, a^ she finished these words she slowly withdi^ew
berselffrom the assembly. ^

a 4i

TALES OF THE

Preparations for the marrianre. foaat wore Rtill ffoinff
on when Winona sihmtly wound her way up to the top
ot tne ciiff, and having grained the summit of the rock
trom the very verge of the precipice she called out to
her Inends below. A light breeze bore her voice alonir
the surface of the water, and her parents heard her last
words. " Farewell ! you were cruel to me and my lover •
you dared to threaten me, but you did not know me'
liook no\y whether you can force me to marry one whom
1 do not love."

Her distracted brothers ran towards the top of the cliff
m order to prevent her design ; whilst many hastened to
tfie toot ot the rock m hopes of receiving her in their
arms. Her aged parents, with tears In their eyes
endeavoured by signs to make her abandon her purpose
But all was m vain ; as the sound of her last words
floa,ted towards them on the calm lake, they saw her
dash herself from the summit of the rock ! Whenever
one of the Dacota Indians passes by the place in his
light canoe, he raises his eye for a moment to gaze on
the giddy height, still called The Maiden's Eock • and
the recollection of Winona's dreadful fate makes his
heart sorrowful ; but he hopes she is gone to the Great
Master oi Life, and that a better portion is now appointed
tor her where no sorrows will ever come to trouble her

buch IS the story as it was related by Wazecota, an
aged Indian chief, who being very young at the time, saw
what he related. While telling the story, the stiffness
ot age forsook his limbs, and the momentary restoratior
ot his youth manifested the deep impression made upon

Winona was an uncivilized Indian ; she had never
been taught the word of the Master of Life, " thou shait
^^.^y^— «^® had never heard that "the patient in
spirit IS better than the proud in spirit."

But let those who can read the Word of God remeift-
ber, that they who attempt to escape the evils of this
lite by self destruction, are far worse than the rudest
savages of the wilderness.

"■*

NORTH AMEBICAN INDIANS.

still goin^
to tlie top
f the rock,
led out to
r^oice along
rd her last
my lover ;
know me.
one whom

of the cliff
astened to
T in their
heir eyes,
r purpose,
ast words
' saw her
WTienever
Eice in his

gaze on
'Ock ; and
nakes his
the Great
appointed
ible her.
ecota, an
time, saw

( stiffness
^storatior
ade upon

ad never
hou shaJt
Eitient in

1 remefft*
s of this
le rudest

Living as wo do in a country in which wc are secure
from all violence, we can hardly form an idea of the per-
sonal courage that may be called forth, even in wom^en
who are constantly exposed to danger. But we could
hi a volume with the Heeords of Wolen during the car v
settlemen of the Eastern states, in the Eevolufonar^
war and m the peopling of the Western country wS
shoiUd exhibit a se^s of bold and heroic actionT'not to
be surpassed m the history of any age or nation. InS
who Will deny that .t required more courage and fort"
tude to stay in the forest, unprotected by nfoat or s toX
ade, m the lU-bmlt cabin, listening to every step, anxious
for the coming m of those who had gone in search of the
foe, than it did to fight that foe whe^n he was met ? Yet
we have only to look back on the period when the first
emigrants to Kentucky and Ohio fe'ariessly planted them
selves in a wilderness, teeming with savages and ferocious
animals and we shall find women, accustomed to Z
comforts and refinements of life, placed in rough log^huts
with their infant children, whilst their husbands were
labounng in their half-eleared corn-fields; and nTght
after night, compe led to listen to the Indian yeUs fnd
to assist m defending the little bkek-house, into whMi
for common safety, they were driven for protection from
the merciless enemy. " uom

iJuston and his wife were dwelling at Haverhill a IMIp
village on the Merrimack rirer, in Massachusett's. fl^y
had already added seven children to the king's liei
subjects m America; and Mrs. Duston about\ wefk
before tbe period of our narrative, had blessed her husband
with an eighth. One day in March, 1698, when Mr

TALE8 OF THE

.<!

ij" I

PuHton hml «,.no fotfl, nhoni Lis (.nli.uiry huHi.ui.s, fh^ro
fell out «M ovout wl.id. had n(>arlv Irfri.i.n a rl iMI,. 1

man and ji w dowtT lirsidcs \ Jvi. Mr *""""^'^
• , , .1 ,, . *'* . "^'^ <ns. j\ party ,)| IiuliaiiN, jiriayrc

tr .U,sH|„,,,„t,,|| ,,,, ,.^„„, Cu,,,.,!,,, l„,,k.. i„ , „

A» l„. .I,,»l„..l , J,, |„, i„,|„.|,| ,i„,k „,,,,||„ „|.„„,„|;;

0. .H,,,!! ,un,sl..hvill, 11,.. I,„r,-i.l v,.lh,|-.|,.. n,.! ,f;«av 1.
111.' pcmr niun ),r,nl,l,Ml, .v,t ;,,„n,Ml „u «, mud, the
iast..,. ,l,.,.,..l,ng that 1... hI.,;„1,I lil„l |,i, „«„ ..„tla™ i a
a/,., lus „•, ,. ,m,,-,l..,v,l i„ 1„-. l«..l,a,„l liin litll^ „„,«

saw Ins »..•,.„ rid..,. cUMn-u, ,.f all ««■•» L.-twe,'.. two years
amls.v,.nU.on,,ss,,,„f,o,,t l«„,.tl,.r, a,»l runninK iwu

he r ,;•/;,"' '""; ? '"' '■"""^''' ""'•>' ''"''" *''^''" ""*'"'
. ,„ n... ■ ""•>'," *'"■".'•""'»' K'"-'i«"'. "1,1 without

t • V M"""J'' """« '"'""■"' I''"'" l'i» horso, and

ruslied into Sirs. Huston's ehambor

and her nurs,., the w„low Mary N,.n; wat.'hing l,>r |,„,. bed

and br™;;;!'" f^'T "'li""'» '"''K'-- «tato, vv'ioi; her pi
and breath ess husband burst into the cliaiiiber, biddinir
her mstnutly rise and ilee for her life. Seanel/wei-e lo
words out ot his mouth, when the Indian yell Lb h.«r '
mid ooking wildly out of the window, doodiimn Dustou

saw that the blood-thirsty foe was eiose at hand. Attw"
terrible moment, it appears that the thought of his
children s danger rushed so powerfully upon his mind
th^he quite forgot the still more p/rilois situation of
hia-Vife ; or, it is not improbable he had sueh knowledge

hone tC ^ ^ ' ^iTfil''' "' "^"'^"'^ '""' ■» comfortable

KOTlTn AMKatCAN INPMNS.

IH\SM, tli('ro
II cliildlci'H
iH, uriayrd

(' in upon
card tlu'ir
li, iininrdU
luH Ijimily.
of .sinoko
r the road
I'ks of jif.
icrc'cd hia

K HaVJl^t'H.

miu'li the
tta^o ill a

till* OIU'H

'■ door, ho
two years
ijJ^' down
iLMu make
1 without
ivsc, and

her arms,
'horbed-
1 her pale
, bidding
were the
iS lieard :
I Bustou
At this
b of his
is mind,
lation of
lowledge
ifortable
;est with

However that might be, he seized iiis gun and hurried
out of «h)ors again, meaning to gaMop after hirt heveti
diihben, and Hiuiicli up one of them in hi» flight, lest his
whoi(> raee and generation HJinnhl he hh)tted from tho
earth in that fatal hour. With this i(h'a, he ro(h^ up
helimd tli(>m, Hwift as th.^ wind. They had liy this time
pot about forty rods from the lionse, nil pressing forward
in a group ; and though the young«'r ehildren tripped
and stumbhul, yet the eld(>r ones were not prevailed upon
by tli(> fear of death to take to their heels and leave these
|)oor little souls to perish. Hearing the sound of hoofs
hHiind them, they looked round, and espying (Goodman
Duston, all Hiuhleiily stopped. The little ones stretehed
out their arms ; while the elder boys and girls, as it were,
resigiaid their eharge into his haiids, and all the seven
children seemed to say,— "Here is our failuT, jiow we
are sate !"

But if over a poor mortal was in trouble, and jierplexity,
and anguish of spirit, that man was iMr. Duston ! lie
lolt his heart yearn towards these seven poor helpless
children, as if eaeh were singly possessed of his whole
afteetious; for not one among them all but had soinw6
poculiar elaim to his (h'ar father's h)vc. There was h5 '
tirst-born ; there, too, the little one who, till vrithin a
week past, had been the baby; tlu^re was a girl wit,h her
mother's features, and a boy the picture of himself, and
another in whom the features of both parents were
nnngk'd ; there was one child, whom he loved for his mild,
quiet, and holy disjjositicm, and destined him to be a
muiister ; and another, whom he loved not h'ss for his
rough and fearless spirit ; and who, could he live to be a
man, would do a man's part against these bloody Indians.
Goodman Duston looked at the poor things one by one,
and with increasing fondness he looked at them all to-
gether ; then he ga/^ed up to heaven for a moment, and
finally waved his hand to his seven beloved ones. " Go
on, my children," said he calmly, "we will live or die
together."

TALES CF THE

He reined in his horse, and made him walk behind

their n'^h™"' r^''-^""^ '" >'™''' ^«"* onward, husSng
their sobs and wadnigs, lest these sounds shodd brinf
the savages upon them. Nor was it long before thf
fog,t.veshad proo; that the red demons ha^ found their

t™nk of f r"' " '^'"V/™"'''' ^™'" **''°<J the huge
+r ^L *'■«"',—» ™dden and sharp report echoed
through the woods-and a bullet hissel ove'i Goodman

ThfZL"^'':'^'^''' '7 ^^r''^ '''"'™ ^^ children's head"
and <£^J ; .*."™1"^, '*'^/°"'"* o" his horse, took aim
and fired at the skulking foe, with such effect m to cause

anotW :7- '}^^7.''^ the pursuit. Another shot-Id
««nth^m^f ''''/''"'" **"' ''°™'^ "^ the forest; but
naJure n- tl /"/ P'Tl* ""' ""harmed: the stealthy
W.T;. V ^■'"'"J' ^"'■'''•■"' *''<'™ to rush boldly for-
Thn, hp !^"fv '" *™ ?"f°«™J' «« Goodman Duston.
Ihus he and his seven cnildren continued their retreat
creeping along at the pace of a child of five years ofd,'

t ew^nH t" '"''' "^ " "*"" ^™"*'''^ f°rtress appeared 5
view and t.ie savages gave up the chase.

We must not forget Mrs. Duston in her distress
Scarcely had her husband fled from the house ere the
chamber was thronged with the horrible visages of the

blond 1?"°^' ?-'*™?.''^ with paint, and besmlared with
blood brandishing their tomahawks in her face and
threatemng to add her scalp to those that were already
h.»Eging at their girdles. It was, however, their interest
to save her ahve, if the thing might be, in irder to ex^t
a ransom. Our great-great grandmothers, when taken
captive m the old times of Indian warfare, appear in
nine ca^es out of ten, to have been in pretty much the
same situation as Mrs. Duston; notwithstanaing which
they were wonderfully sustained through long, rough and

s,n T')'\ *"'•' *°"' "^'"•™««' and'starfaC:
such as the Indians themse'ves could hardly endure
Seeing that there was no help for it, Mrs. D™ton rose,
and she and the widow Neff. with tl,o ;pf.„t- :„ i, '

Srf^ 1'' "^^^""l^ r* ^^* ^^^^^- ^« they ^^oBmd the
threshold; the poor babe p'^*^ "- " ^--'^^ -^ -^

up a feeble wail ; it was itg

ik behind
[, hushing
uld bring
efore the
und their
the huge
■t echoed
Groodman
a's heads,
took aim

I to cause
hot — and
2st ; but

stealthy
•Idly for-

Duston.
• retreat,
ears old,
)eared in

distress.

ere the
8 of the
red with
^ce, and

already
interest
;o exact

II taken
pear, in
ach the
: which,
igh, and
rvation,
endure.
)n rose,

'X 4X1 III o*

sed the
was its

NOBTH AMEEICAN INDIANS. * 93

last cry In an instant, an Indian seized it bv the feet
swung It m the air, dashed its head against the trunk o^'
the nearest tree, and threw the lille corpse at ,>!
mother's feet. Perhaps it was the remembrare afihll

?ert"o'f ™' ''^^^^^^ BuXnt Wi'Vhen
Jo^uldtlnl, ^Z^iC-f ^.^^l^i^^
bosom, and follow the Indian^ into tL dl^k g^^^^^^^^^

the hW ' ^""^y "'^'r^"^ *^ '^''^^' ^ Parting Iw at
the blazmg cottage, where so many years sh^Wl r ]
happdy with her husband, and h^^fborne l^^f e S
children — the seven of w]in«A fo+« i, i ^^"^

and the infant, who,; 1 t^dlutjtetirer S

feebly, at length sunk up^rthrgj^t^ th^:"!
moment and a groan was heard nn,) tiT,,' i ^*
hanging at an Indian's girfle The unhurt ' '^ ""^
left in the forest till the rites of ZnU ''fP^f,*^
performed by the autulal ' aL stS "Th '■"""jl'' ''I
leaves on the whitened bones ^ ^^ withered

prilneTs, "rLrding Tlnlr^l'^''' P"-'*' *•>«
among th^ difeenrf arW ^ sa^^^' mT B ""i'^''
the widow Neff, and an Engl sh lad ti t„ rt ?f' ?"'
family consisting of two stout vtriors tint" "'^ "
and seven children Tlie^e t3;„„ fi ' "^ squaws,
the French had hdd ^ Z^^^^!:^^^]-"-

"« <^«tt«» M»tber, the histo .rare? New E^irH'
aiErms, on Mrs. Duston's authoritv thnt rt ■'"'Sl?'id,
morning, noon, a.d night tT^^^.S^Var^^W aj
Without a prayer • nor fliri i-h^.r Z P'lfcook ol lood
Bleep till tLTVJ"f,ild l^?f'-*^".r«hMren to

Mather, like an oil hSheart:!;;:^^^"^:, ^t
was, seems trebly to e.ult in th^ C^tion^^ the':

TALES OF THE

poor wretches, on account of their Popish superstitions.
Yet what can be more touching than to think of these
wild Indians, in their loneliness and their wanderings,
wherever they went among the dark mysterious woods,'
still keeping up domestic worship, wdth all the regularity
of a household at its peaceful fireside.

They were travelling to a rendezvous of the savages
somewhere in the north-east. One night, being now
above a hundred miles from Haverhill, the red men and
women, and the little red children, and the three pale
faces, Mrs. Duston, the widow Neif, and the English lad,
made their encampment, and kindled a fire beneath the
gloomy old trees, on a small island in Contocook river.
The barbarians sat down to what scanty food Providence
had sent them, and shared it with their prisoners, as if
they had all been the children of one wigwam, and had
grown up together on the margin of the same river
within the shadow of the forest. Then the Indians said
their prayers— prayers that the Eomish priests had
taught them— and made the sign of the cross upon their
dusky breasts, and composed themselves to rest. But
the three prisoners prayed apart ; and when their
petitions were ended, they likewise lay down, with their
feet to the fire. The night wore on ; and the light and
watchful slumbers of the red men were often broken by
the rush and ripple of the stream, or by the groanin'o-
and moaning of the forest, as if Nature were wailing over
her wild (children ; and sometimes, too, the little red
skins cried in their sleep, and the Indian mothers awoke
to hush them. But a little before daybreak, a deep,
dead slumber fell upon the Indians.

Up rose Mrs. Duston, holding her own breath, to
listen to the long, deep breathing of her captors. Then
she stirred the widow Nefi', whose place was by her own
and likewise the English lad ; and all three stood up[
with the doubtful gleam of the decaying fire hovering
upon their ehastlv visaL'es. as thev atjirpd mnnrl of +1,^
fated slumberers. The next instant, each of the three
captives held a tomahawk. Hark ! that low moan as of

NORTH AMEHICAK INDIANS.

erstltions.
k of these
anderings,
us woods,
regularity

e savages
eing now

men and
hree pale
iglish lad,
neatli the
3ok river,
rovidence
.era, as if

and had
ime river
lians said
ests had
pon their

3St. But

en their
vith their
light and
•roken by
groaning
iling over
little red
rs awoke
, a deep,

reath, to
s. Then
her own,
stood up,
hovering

If! nf +\\ck

the three
Dan, as of

Ann ^ * !? dream-It told a warrior's death-pan^;
Another !-another !~and the third half-uttered groan
was from a woman's lips. But, oh, the children ' tS
skms are red ; yet spare them, Hannah Duston, spare
those seven little ones, for the sake of the seven thatCu

to herself. Eight have I borne-and where are the
seven, and where is the eighth ?" The thought nerved
her arm; and the copper-.oloured babes slept the same
dead sleep with their Indian mothers. Of all 4^t
family only one svoman escaped, dreadfully wounded, Ind
fled shrieking into the wilderness, and a boy whom it i«
said Mrs. Duston had meant to ^ave alive f but Te dd

Zf,f ^ "^1 *^'• "'^T^ ^'^'''' ' There was little

safety for a red skm when Hanrah Duston's blood

The^ work being finished Mrs. Duston laid hold
of the long black hair of the warriors, and the
women and the children, and took all their ten scalps
and left the island, which bears her name to this vS-v
day Accordiiig to our notion it should be held unholy
for her sake. Had the merciless vixen been drowned in
crossmg the Contocook river, or had she sunk over her
head and ears m a swamp, we could not have found it in
our heart to pity her ; but it was otherwise ordained and
she and her compamons came safe home, and received a
boun y on the dead Indians, besides large presents from

Tm f ^f ^-S^' ,r ^ ^^'y P«"^^« ^'^^ the Governo^
of Maryland. Furthermore, in her old age, being sunk
into decayed circumstances, she claimed and received a
pension as the price of blood. «^«ivea a

This awful woman, and that tender-hearted, yet valiant
man her h^isbaiid, will be remembered as long as the
deeds ol old times are told round a I^ew EnirW
fireside. But how different is her renown to his '

Iheir descendants, in a right line, and of the same
n«me, are now nvmg m the same viUage in which
Mrs. Duston was captured, *'

TALES OF THE

Jjit

About fifty years ago, one of the missionaries to the
Indians was on his way from Tuscarora* settlement to
the Seneeas. As he was journeying along in pious
meditation through the forest, a majestic Indian darted
from its recesses and stopped his progress. His hair
was somewhat changed with age, and his face marked with
■ the deep furrows of time ; but his eye expressed all the
fiery vivacity of youthful passion, and his step was that
of a warrior in the vigour of manhood.

"White man of the ocean f, whither wanderest
thou ?" said the Indian.

" I am travelling," replied tli(^ meek disciple of peace,
" towards the dwellings of thy brethren, to teach them
the knowledge of the only true God, and to lead them
to happiness and peace."

"To happiness and peace!" exclaimed the tall chief,
while his eyes flashed fire. Behold the blessings that
follow the footsteps of the white man ! AVherever he
comes, the red men of the forest fade away like the mists
of morning. Our people once roamed in freedom
through the woods, and hunted, unmolested, the beaver,
the elk, and the bear. From the fm-ther side of the
great water came the white man, armed with thunder
and lightning. In war he hunted us like wild beasts ;
in peace he destroyed us by deadly liquors. Depart,'

* Vnscarora is an Indian village in New York state, not far from Niaf^ara Falls
The Seneca Indians were once a powerful tribe : a small remnant wFll still be
found on Buffalo Creek, close by Lake Erie.

t The Indians, when they first saw the white men, imagined that they snranff
from the sea, and that they invaded their country because they had none of tiieir

own. Tn thfir snnira thov n.>noH fhpn> "th,- ir^-iv -- ■.-.it... ^ ^"»_iiicu

— - ----- — r— — .. ,!.!^..!. i lie rruiH, vr vviuiu roam or the

Ocean } and this name is still often applied to thtm in contempt by the savaces
of the north-west. ' '>»''»8co

laries to the
lettlement to
ng in pious
adian darted
3. His hair
marked with
essed all the
tep was that

r wanderest

pie of peace,
• teach them
lead them

le tall chief,
essings that
V^herever he
ke the mists

in freedom
, the beaver,

side of the
ith thunder
wild beasts ;
s. Depart,

5m Niagara Falls.
lant will still be

that they sprang
tiad none of tlieir
itu Foam of the
pt by the savages

NOBTH AMEBIC Alf INDIANS.

A^"'

dangerous man, and may the Great Spirit protect you on
your journey homeward ; but I warn you to de*part !"
.1 he tall chief darted into the wood*, and the good
missionary pursued his way with pious resolution

He preached the word of God, he taught them the
name of our Saviour ; and many of the poor Indians
heard and believed. In the course of eighteen months,
their devotion became rational, regular, and, as the
missionary hoped, permanent.

But, alas ! all at once, the little church in which the
good man used to teach his flock, became deserted No
one came to listen with reverence to the pure doctrines,
which they once delighted to hear, and only a few idlers
were seen on a Sunday morning lounging about, and
casting a wistful, yet fearful look, at their peaceful, but
now silent mansion.

The missionary sought them out, and explained to
them the smfuhiess of those, who, having once known
abandoned the religion of the only true God. The poor
Indians shook their heads, and told him that the Great
Sl)irit was angry with them, and had sent a prophet to
warn them against listening to new teachers; that he
would soon come amongst them, when there would be a
great meeting of the old men, and he would then deliver
to the people the message the Great Spirit had entrusted
him with. The zealous missionary, determined to con-
tront tlie imposter, whom he had heard spoken of as
the "Prophet of the Alleghany," asked and obtained
permission to appear at the council, Mdien it was to be
determined whether they should follow the religion of
their fathers, or that of the white men.

The council-house not being large enough to contain
so vast an assemblage of people, they met in a valley
west of Seneca lake. This valley is embowered under
lofty trees. On every side it is 'surrounded with high,
rugged hills, and a little stream winds through it. It

was a scene that no nnft ponlH Innt on \v^ih •» ■;'*"-

Un a smooth level, near the bank of the stream, and under
the shade of a wide-spreading elm, sat the chief men of

98 #

TALES OF THE

the tribe. Around the circle which they formed was
gathered a crowd of wondering savages, with eager looks
seeming to demand the true God at the hands of their
wise men. In the middle of the circle sat the aged and
way-worn missionary. A few grey hairs were scattered
over his forehead ; his hands were crossed on his breast ;
and as he turned his hope-beaming eyes towards heaven^
he seemed to be calling with pious fervour upon the
God of truth, to vindicate his own eternal word by the
mouth of his servant.

For several minutes there was deep silence in the
valley, save the whispering of the wind in the trees, and
the gentle murmuring of the stream. Then all at once
the hum of many voices was heard through the crowd,
for the Propliet of the Alleghany was seen descending
one of the hills. With hurried steps and furious looks
he entered the circle ; and the missionary saw with
surprise the same tall chief who two years before had
crossed him in the Tuscarora forest. The same deer-skin
hung over his shoulders, the same tomahawk glittered in
his hand, and the same fiery and turbulent spirit shot
from his eyes. He addressed the awe-struck savages,
and the whole valley rung with the sound of his
iron voice.

" Red men of the looods ! hear what the Great Spirit
says to his children who have forsaken him !

"There was a time when our fathers owned this
island.* Their lands extended from the rising to the
setting sun. The Great Spirit made it for their use.
He made the buffalo and the deer for their food ; the
beaver and the bear too he made, and their skins served
us for clothing. He sent rain upon the earth, and it
produced corn. All this he did for his Eed children,
because he loved them. But an evil day came upon us!
The White men crossed the water and landed on this
island— their numbers were small ; they found friends,
not enemies. They told us they had fled from their
own country, because of wicked men, and had come here

• The Indians of North America in?ariably call their country an " bland."

' formed was
;h eager looks
auds of their
the aged and
ere scattered
n his breast ;
vards heaven,
ur upon the
word by the

lence in the
he trees, and
n all at once
fh the crowd,
1 descending
furious looks
fy saw with
8 before had
me deer-skin
: glittered in
it spirit shot
uck savages,
)und of his

Great Spirit

owned this
ising to the
)r their use.
ir food; the
skins served
arth, and it
ed children,
ne upon us.
ided on this
und friends,

from their
d come here

r an " bland."

NOETH AMEBICAN INDIANS.

to enjoy their own religion. We took pity on them, and
they sat down amongst us. Their numbers increased ;
they wanted more land— they wanted our country.'
They wanted to force their religion upon us, and to
make us their slaves !

" Bed men of the woods ! have ye not heard at evening,
and sometimes in the dead of night, those mournful
sounds that steal through the deep valleys, and along the
mountain sides ? These are the wailings of those spirits
whose bones have been turned up by the plough of the
"White man, and left to the mercy of the rain and wind.
They call upon you to avenge them, that they may enjoy
their blissful paradise far beyond the blue hills !

" Hear me, deluded people, for the last time !— This
wide region was once your inheritance — but now the cry
of revelry or war is no more heard on the shores of the
majestic Hudson, or on the sweet banks of the silver
]\^hawk. The eastern tribes have long since disappeared
— even the forests that sheltered them are laid low;
and scarcely a trace of our nation remains, except here
and there the Indian name of a stream, or a village.
And such, sooner or later, will be the fate of the other
tribes : in a little while they will go the way that their
brethren have gone. They will vanish like a vapour from
the face of the earth : their very history will be lost in
forgetfulness, and the places that now know them will
know them no more. We are driven back until we can
retreat no farther : — our hatchets are broken — our bows
are snapped — our fires are extinguished — a little longer
and the White man will cease to persecute us— for we shall
cease to exist T The Prophet ended his speech, which
was delivered with all the wild eloquence of real or fancied
inspiration, and, all at once, the crowd seemed to be agi-
tated with a savage feeling of indignation against the good
missionary.

Wlien this emotion had somewhat subsided, the mild
apostle obtained permission to speak in behalf of Him
who had sent him. Surely there never was a more
touching and beautiful figure than that of this good man.

H 2

100

TALES OF THE

l\ I

He seemed to have already exceeded the terra of yea^ s
allotted to man by the Psalmist ; and though his voice
was clear, and his action vigorous, vet there was that in
his looks which seemed to forbode that his pilgrimage was
soon to close for ever.

With pious fervour he described to his audience the
power and beneficence of the Creator of the universe.
He told them of Christ's promise of eternal happiness to
those who hear his word and do his will ; and, when he
thought that he had duly impressed their minds with this
important part of his subject, he proceeded to set before
his attentive audience the numerous advantages of civil-
ization. He contrasted the wild Indian roaming through
the desert m savage independence, now revelling in the
blood of his enemy, and in his turn the victim of his cruel
vengeance, with the peaceful husbandman, enjoying in
the bosom of his family, all the comforts of a cultivated
lite m this happy land; and he finished by a solemn ap-
peal to Heaven, that his sole motive for coming amonAt
them was thd love of his Creator and of his feUow-
creatures.

As the benevolent missionary closed his address, Sa-
gouaha (the Keeper awake), or as he is usually called,
JKed Jacket, a Seneca chief of great authority, and one of
the most eloquent of his nation, rose, and enforced the
exhortations of the venerable preacher. He pleaded the
cause of reHgion and humanity, and concluded his speech
with these remarkable words : —

'; Friends and brothers ! It was the wni of the Great
bpmt. that we should meet together this day. He orders
^1 things, and has given us a fine day for our council
He has taken his garment from before the sun, and
caused it to shine with brightness upon us. Our eyes
are opened, so that we see clearly ; our ears are unstopped
so that we can hear the good words that have been spoken'
±or all these favours we thank the Great Spirit."
^^e^council then deliberated for nearly two hours ; at
tue exid of which time the oldest man arose, and solem'nly
pronounced the result of their conference :— " That for

NOBTH AMEEICAN INDIANS.

fn of years
I his voice
»va8 that ill
rimage was

dience the
a universe,
ippiuess to
1, when he
Is with this

set before
es of civil-
Qg through
ng in the
)f his cruel
nj eying in

cultivated
olemn ap-
g amongbt
lis fellow-

idress, Sa-
lly called,
i-nd one of
forced the
leaded the
his speech

the Great
He orders
r council.

sun, and
Our eyes
nstopped,
in spoken.
t."

hours ; at
L solemnly

That for

101

the future they would worship the God of the Christians,
and that the missionary who had taught them his laws
ought to be cherished as their greatest benefactor."

When this decision was pronounced by the venerable
elder the rage of the Prophet of the Alleghany became
terrible. He started from the ground, seized his toma-
hawk, aud, denouncing the vengeance of the Great Spirit
upon the whole assembly, darted from the circle with
wild impetuosity/, and disappeared amongst the shadows
ot the forest. .

102

TALES OP THl

rs. fibernttfrt

I HATtE already given my young readers some idea of the
dangers to which the early emigrants to America were
exposed, but I have said nothing about their privations ;
and little do citizens, wealthy farmers, or even the most
indigent in that country, now know, to what extremity a
lack of food has occasionally driven some of the first
settlers, in order to sustain life. I cannot illustrate this
fact better than by giving an account of the sufierings of
Mrs. Liverniore.

This woman had accompanied her husband in the woods
to a place in what is now called Broome County, New
York, having fixed on that spot for a home. But it so
happened, that the stock of food which they had provided
for the winter was, by the end of February, nearly ex-
hausted. A fresh supply therefore must be had, or they
mu^t perish, as nearly two months were yet to come be-
fore the herbage of spring could afford any relief. A
journey to Schoharie through the wilderness in order to
purchase food, was the only alternative; and the road
thither could hardly be traced, as it was covered with
deep snow, and obstructed in many places by the fallen
trees which lay across it ; and this was more especially
the case from Livermore's house as far as Chenango on
the Susquehannah ; for the road at that time was rarely
passed by a team of any kind during the winter months.
Binghampton, which is now a populous and beautiful
town, then contained only two log-houses ; provision at
that place therefore could not be had.

Mr. Livermore left his home with a sorrowful heart ;

tor he KTIPTO" +;nn.f. ^f nii\r Tnia-(V»T»f-!Tn/:k oVtz-wnl/^ ■^■^^-.r^-^i- "UZa
„ .. — _„ .» •~--j i«« t>>?«.v.-i fltiiv atj.\jixx\j. L/icrciii; ilia

return, his wife and three children must fall a sacrifice to

NOnTII AMERICAN INDIANS.

io;3

5 idea of the
norica were
privations ;
ill the most
extremity a
of the first
ustrate this
lufierings of

n the woods
3unty, New

But it so
ad provided

nearly ex-
lad, or they
come be-

relief. A
n order to
d the road
vered with
' the fallen
! especially
lenango on
was rarely
er months,
i beautiful
rovisio^ at

rful heart;

riCTCiii; xiiS

sacrifice to

famine. At length he arrived at Schoharie with liis team,
l)ut in such a state that he was incapable of telling whence
he came, or what his business was ; for he had been taken
violently ill by the way, and having no medical aid, his
fever had increased to delirium, from which he did not
recover for nearly three weeks. As soon as he was able
to leave his bed, he obtained the necessary supply of pro-
vision, and hastened back to his family, well knowing
that unless some iiiterference had taken place in their
favour, they must before this time be all dead.

As he drew near his house the tinkling of the bells on
his horses' necks gave notice of his approach ; and who
can say whether the joy he felt at seeing his wife and
children coming out to meet him, or their joy at his un-
hoped-for return, was the greater! After he had ex-
plained to them the unfortunate cause of his delay, he
begged his wife to tell him by what minicle, for he thought
it could be no less, she had been able to keep herself and
children alive during his absence. The account she gave
was as follows : —

" After we Iwid consumed all the provision we had in
the house, which was very little, and you did not come
back as we expected, I felt almost driven to despair ; it
was a folly to think of going even to Chenango point,
twenty-five miles off", with the three children, all bare-
footed through the snow ; and it was impossible to think
of leaving them alone till I could go and return ; for be-
sides that I was much too weak from hunger to perform
such a journey, I knew not what might happen to them
either from fire, or wild animals which their crying would
probably have attracted. But waiving all this, there was
one thing quite certain, that they could not, in addition
to the hunger they now sufiered, sustain so long a fast as
two days and one night, the shortest time I could have
taken to walk such a distance at any time of the year.
In this dreadful perplexity, full many a time I went to
the cupboard where the loaf used to be : the bacr that
contained the last handful of meal I turned inside out ;
the barrel where the last morsel of pork had been salted

u 4

iQi

TALES OP THE

(id mu«t we penal, ? 1 „rie,l aloud iu „,y ug^y and I
Burtly lie heard mc, lor my mind became more calm » ,1

wa?8 ilUnnt '"•''•'' I''!'"'" «"■•". "n'l 1 thought there
horse ""'^'-^'-'S that had uot been given to the

" I ™n to tlio shed where the old tub stood «„A u t

:^itt"•f■^'i^''f'■'"'^'"'l ^^ ^-" - S -J

the world T' '"{(I,'','*" .the most delicious food in
t e world. I immediately mixed some of this with water
and set it over the tire to boil, seasoning it wiTh some of
-mil Jtr'^ Btill remained in the „.L bird. "*

PossiUv thV «' ""^ ^h'^; '' ""■"" '"t" '"y 'niod that
possibly the JSass-wood* huds might be good to boil with

n • W.V™" r'/'"' ^'"'^""'^ «»■"« I'andfuls and thr^w
*i\ ^''/°^'"'*«t««te''y no means unpleasant- andwTtb
this addition we have been able to make our sto^ ho d

The want of grist miUs was a privation of no small
magni ude to which the first settlers in America Ten
e»mpelled to submit. One story of the hardship arisLoS

tne like nature. Some years after the occurrence which

"J carry on his back three peeks of corn to thi^ mill

path''' T IV^ *" *« pi'"'*'' except the "indSn^
path, which tor ages W 1, -sn the higWay of w^itrs

vei>'muSi^i„our' "' ''•"■'""^- »■'•=" -i-i^o*,. The baa, of ,hta iree .«

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

106

vog(;tabl6 of
s gone. Oh
igouY, and I
netKl. And
re calm, and
to til row the
ought there
fiven to the

od, and lo!
we rejoiced
)U8 food in
with water,
ith some of
rrel.

mind that
boil with

and threw

; and with

store hold

re now all

f no small
Biica were
arising out
mdreds of
nee which
the eldest
ore heard
Liehannah,
nd having
lade from
r coveted
indertook
this mill.
' Indian's
warriors

this tree are

and hunters, the t ales of whose valour and origin had
sunk into the earth with their actors, unwritten in anv
page.

The way was a gloomy one, being entirely through the
woods ; and thoni was one circumstance respecting it,
which in the boy's imagination greatly increased the ter-
rors of the journey: it was this. The path led directly
past a certain tree, colled the Whife Man's Tree, where,
it was said, about eight years ago the Indians had burnt
a prisoner whom they had taken in war. It was an elm ;
and for manv years after the country was settled, it was
preserved s a memorial of the tragical event. It stood
at the lower end of what is called the Du(/ Way, imme-
diately above the bridge which crosses the Susquehaimah
near the village of Unadilla. The ignorant and supersti-
tious declared that the spirit of the white man often ap-
peared to passers by ; and if he were questioned, would
declare who he was, whence he came, and when and for
what the Indians burnt him. Richard was not such a
fool as to believe all this, ^et when he came within sight
of the tree he certainly did look at it more particularly
than he had done at any other in the forest. But as he
drew nearer still, he fancied he saw something large close
by its roots. Eichard was not a coward, but he felt his
heart beat— he stood still— his heart beat faster and faster,
for the something, whatever it was, appeared to move!
I he more he looked at it the more it seemed to him like
a man.

Poor Richard thought for one moment of turning back
and getting home as fast as he could ; but, as I said before^
ij ^ was no coward ; besides, he could not bear the thoughts
- giving up his expedition to the mill, so, after a short
dehberation, he ventured slowly and cautiously a little
nearer; but with all his caution he trod on a dry stick
which snapped under his foot, and at the sound a man
started irom his sleep at the foot of the tree, rose quickly,
and looked at him full in the f«x?e. Nnw, thouo'h Ricliard
had often heard about spirits, yet, like most oth'eVpeop^^^^
he had never seen one, and what he now beheld looked
to him very much like an old Indian.

106

TALES OF THE

coL to Z t;. L S'*°f :'"'*!'^«<' voice, and told Mm to

01 the Indians— 'mc cut that,»,e paint him too. A hundred
moons ago (about eight years)' me with twenty more
Indiana come from Eaopus on Worth river-lTave L Tr?
Boner-tied hands behind them. When alllken ^Z
njan get away-he stole gun-five Indln follow^' C
We hear gun shoot-one Indian fall dead--JerT soTn
ano her gun shoot, another Indian fall dead 4 see
white man-then me shoot and kill him. Then me ca^

next day, cut his picture, and paint him. His name
Coons, Dutchman. We then go on to Canada Me Z
to Canada, for ever, pretty soon " ^

Here they parted, the lone Indian to his fellows and
Eichard to the mill. As he had started eariy^n 2e
morning, the greater part of the day was still belre him
but It was autumn, and there was already some snow on

rags and with only a pair of old mocassins on his feet
hfs b^ "nftrur *° '"'"' "° '^'- ""'J- He should red

But what was his disappointment on perceinng it to be
a mere temporary thing, placed over a small rivulet
and incapable of turning a wheel larger tw! '

srind-stmie T,, e„„i h t ,', larger than a common
grma-stone. In fact, it had been erected not for the
purpose of customers, but for the exclusire^se of the
owner, who hke his neighbours, had been obliged hither!
to to pound his com in a mortar. On Eichfrd's annli
cation to the proprietor to know 'if he would grnrhis"
com,_he received for answer; "]Vo, it is imnilif"" „„.?
see the stone is a very poor and small on^ which /in
the most miserable manner, cut out of the rock fTt wou^S

NORTH AMERICATf IlfDIAlirg.

107

led, spok« to

told him to

3ing a stout-

him. " Sit

I something,
smooth spot
" the hatchet

A hundred
ventv more
ave five pri-

sleep, one
follow him.
—very soon
i. Me see
3n me carry

Me come

His name
ia. Me go

bllows, and
trly in the
efore him ;
le snow on
miserable
n his feet,
shouldered
out twelve

ng it to be

II rivulet,
a common
ot for the
Lise of the
ed, hither-
fd's appli-

grind his

hich I, in
; it would

take all the day to grind your grist : no, I cannot do it."
This answer so grieved the poor lad, that he felt almost
ready to cry with vexation, still he did not give up, but
earnestly begged the man to grind it for him ; saying,
that it was too hard to be obliged to carry it back again
in the same state he brought it, and disappoint his
mother and the children, who had not tasted a bit of
good bread for so long.

At length the man was moved with pity, and told
Richard he would try and oblige him. The mill was set
in motion, and the grain poured into the hopper ; but
the mill was such a wretched machine, that it was dark
evening before the three pecks were ground ; and as it
was now snowing fast, Eicharfl dared not attempt to
return that night. Next morning, as soon as it was
light enough to seo his way, he set off homewards with
his precious burden on his back. But the path, which
was never very easily found through the woods, was now
so entirely covered with snow that he frequently strayed
out of the right way, and had to retrace his steps till he
found some tree which he could recognize ; but with the
help of a stout heart and plenty of perseverance he at
last got safe home : it was not till dusk, however, that
his mother heard his welcome voice, calling "Halloo!"
on the opposite bank of the river — the signal for the
little canoe to be paddled over for him. One of his feet
was entirely naked, having worn out the mocassin on the
way ; and he was nearly exhausted, having tasted noth-
ing from the time he left home till his return, which was
two days and a night ; for the miller, either from neglect
or hardness of heart, or perhaps from poverty, had offered
him nothing, and Eichard was too high-minded to ask for
any thing-.

108

T1LE8 OF THE

IttiiJiit |)i«fl|(itj[)ra.

I I

their jouref Wr b .d n. i' '"'1'*'' t" >'''™, " """""""l "'"
of sue . of he r ribei^^ *'"' ""' i"*»™'»tion

track. But 1 8l. "M « "' "".''V'"';''™ *" *'"" '"*» their

the, are e^nelt^^TVir pt;L'"fi;;/'''"^''' ^

the {oZ':ntZr:^v:T'irr'' i-t^^"'^ »f

remembered that h^he Btm^of M*!-, ff' . ^* ^'"■''^
was made of the Indians " . Xin ff "'""' """"tion

kimiling a Kre beueartbelrlc?; """" «"™"'P-«"' -d

is then inserted in tl e^^d 0*^. wf ' . '"' f'f * "* '"'*
iuto the crouud with ^ !; 1" \-*^ l""'"' *'"'='' '» driven
which thr;arty is Mii'f "''''"" *-'"-<^ f'e course

matrSrLTerlttri;'; nt' l^t, " ^"P^-"*"-! - "

&omle ^tolT'^ir'w Vb ^''-y,*f -«"-•' the Indiai:
^'"'* ""*"' V tte particular manner of draw-

NOWTII AMERICAN INDIANS.

109

hieroglypliic.
•rtli America:

bo acceptable
iVellers in this

8 on quitting
a memorial of
p information
all into their
an camps, as
Indians, who
3d the night ;
possessors of
It will be
ton, mention
nipment and

1 are made is
betula papy-
ome pointed
phics which
unity ofters,
leet of bark
ch is driven

the course

Jsented in a
individual

itin of )iia

the Indian
3r of draw-

ing the figure, and also from the former being without a
hat. Many distinctive symbols are employed; for
example, a i)arty tliat was travelling towards Sandy
Lake, in the north-west territory, witli two Chippeway
guides and an interpreter, was thus depicted :— One
English gentleman was represented with a sword to
signify that he was an oilicer— another gentleman with
a book, the Indians having understood that he was a
preacher— a third, who was a mineralogist, was drawn
with a hammer, in allusion to the hammer he carried in
his belt. The iigures of a tortoise and a prairie hen
denoted that these had been killed— three smokes showed
that the encampment consisted of three fires— eight
muskets, that tliis was the number of armed men— three
notches cut on the pole on- the north-west side, showed
that they were going three days' journey in that direc-
tion—the figure of a white man with a tongue near his
mouth (like the Aztcck hieroglyphics), meant that he
was an interpreter.

Should any Indian hereafter visit this spot, he would
therefore read ui)on this memorial of bark, that eleven
white men and three Indians encam])ed at this place;
that there was an interpreter in the party: that there
were eight common soldiers besides an officer ; that they
were travelling in the direction of Sandy Lake, &c.
Here then was a record of passing events, not so perma-
nent as our written histories, but full as intelligible to
those for whom it was intended.

There was nothing perhaps, that astonished and
puzzled the Indians so nuich when white men first
appeared amongst them, as their reading and writing;
and even now it is a prevalent idea amongst them, that
when white men are reading they are holding converse
with the Deity. Writing they consider as much the
same thmg with witchcraft; in which art, like a great
number of superstitious people in England, they have a

*»i.xix. J-rCiivx.

A few years ago an English gentleman and his friend
were travelling through the woods in Ohio in search of

110

TALES OF THE

plants, and had taken an Indian lad with them as a guide.
On one occasion the gentlemen separated in the course
of the day, though to no great distance. Onie of them,
finding some curious looking berries which were quite
unknown to him, sent them b} the lad to his companipn,
with a note, written on a leaf torn from his pocket book,
with a lead pencil, specifying the number he had sent.

The lad, tasting them and finding them good, ate them
all except two, which, with the note, he delivered ; but
the gentleman missing the- berries, reprimanded him for
eating or losing them, and sent him back for more. A
second parcel was now forwarded, with the number of
berries again marked on a slip of paper, as the gentleman
wished to see how much the boy might be trusted ;
however he played the same trick with these, eating the
greater part of them, and again givfbg up two only.
This behaviour procured him a good scolding; upon
which the lad fell down on his knees, and in superstitious
amazement kissed the paper. " I have found out," ex-
claimed he, " this paper is a great conjurer : it is a spirit,
for it can tell you even what it did not see ; for when I
ate the last berries, I took care to hide the note under
a stone, where it could not see any thing ; but even there
it found out what I was doing — it is greater than a
pow-wow!"

I have heard an aaecdote of an Indian who was more
shrewd, but not more honest, than this boy. Having
lived long in the neighbourhood of white people, he knew
their language, and had some idea of what reading and
writing were. He was an idle vagabond, and once when
he had been sauntering about all the morning, looking
at some masons who were building a house for Colonel
Dudley, who was then Governor of Massachusetts, the
Colonel called out to him, "Why don't yon work too,
and earn something to buy yourself decent clothes
with?"

nor?" asked the Indian very coolly.

" I no work ! I do work," answered the G^overnor.

em as a guide,
in the course
Onie of them,
ih. were quite
lis companipn,
I pocket book,
e had sent,
ood, ate them
ielivered; but
inded him for
for more. A
le number of
;he gentleman
be trusted ;
se, eating the
ip two only.
)lding ; upon
superstitious
md out," ex-
it is a spirit,
; for when I
e note under
ut even there
3ater than a

ho was more
Dy. Having
)ple, he knew
reading and
d once when
ling, looking
s for Colonel
3husetts, the
m work too,
3ent clothes

©vernor.

NOETH AMERICAN INDIANS.

Ill

"I'm sure you no work," said the Indian: "you see
others work, that's all." ^

"But I work with my head;' said the Governor, at
the same time touching his forehead with his finger.

" Well, me work too, if any one employ me."

The Governor then set him a job, promising that if he
did it well he sliould have a shilling. . The Indian
seemed wdl pleased, and when he had finished his task
came and demanded his pay. The next day he came
again and earned another shilling ; but work was not at
all to his taste, and his perseverance could hold out no
longer. His money was soon all spent at a neighbour-
mg tavern for rum : he then came back and told Colonel
i-|udley, that one of the shillings which he had given
him was bad, and that "the man no take it" The
Governor knew v^ry well that this was false, however
he gave the Indian another shilling, and he departed ; but
alter he was gone, he wrote a letter to the keeper of the
iiridewell at Boston, requesting him to give the bearer
01 It a sound whipping.

Just as was expected, the next day the Indian came
again, begging for money, and interrupting the masons
in their work "Here," said the Governor, drawing the
letter out of his pocket, "take this letter for me, and I
Will give you a shilling ; will you carry it ?"

"Me will" said the Indian quite pleased, and at the
same tune holdmg out his hand for the letter and the
money.

Pretty soon after starting, he met a man who lived
with the Governor as groom. "Here," said he to the
servant, " here a letter."

^^' WeU, what of that ?" asked the man.

"Why," said the cunning rogue, "Governor say me
meet you— give you letter— you take it to Boston "

Takmg the letter as it was directed, the ffroom
delivered it to the keeper of the Bridewell, and to his
great surprise and indignation received a smart fioggiuff

On his return he complained most bitterly to the
Colonel, who was much vexed at the failure of his scheme

112

TALES or THE

and determined some day to have the lazy fellow punish-
ed. But the Indian took good care to keep out of his
way. At length, however, happening to meet with him,
the Colonel asked him what business h* had to give the
letter to any other person ?

" Oh !'| said the Indian, looking at him full in the face,
and significantly touching his own forehead, " Governor
say me no work, but he work — he work with the head —
me think me tvork with the head too."

That an Indian hieroglyphic sketch is sometimes very
expressive, will be seen by the following incident.

A gentleman living in the Missouri territory, met a
Shawnee riding a horse which he recognized as one that
had been stolen from him a few days before, and he
immediately claimed it as his own property. " To-morrow
noon," answered the Shawnee, " I will come to your
house, and then we will talk the matter over."

The following day the Indian came, as he had appointed,
to the white man's house; but when he insisted on
having the horse restored to him, the other impudently
replied that the horse which he claimed had belonged to
his father, who was just dead, and that according to the
Indian custom, he had now become possessor of all his
property.

The white man was exceedingly angry at this audacious
falsehood, and began, rather incautiously, to threaten the
Indian : upon this the latter snatched up a bit of char-
coal from the hearth, and drew two very striking figures
on the door of the house ; the one representing a white
man taking a horse, the other an Indian in the act of
scalping the white man : when he had finished this per-
formance, he turned round and coolly asked his trembling
host, "whether he could read Indian writing?" and not
waiting for any reply, jumped on the back of the disputed
horse and rode ofi* in triumph.

low punisli-

• out of his

t with him,

to give the

in the face,
" Governor
the head —

etimes very
lent.

bory, met a

as one that

ire, and he

To-morrow

to your

1 appointed,
insisted on
impudently
jelonged to
ding to the
r of all his

s audacious
hreaten the
bit of char-
ting figures
ing a white
the act of
id this per-
s trembling
?" and not
he disputed

NORTH AMEBICAN INDIANS.

118

% tm^ ^f ^¥ <£fetj^t^tos;

It is an old custom amongst the Choctaw Indians to
assemble together in the summer evenings, and tell
stories in rotation. These stories being frequently
repeated, the young people learn them by heart, and in
their turn transmit them to the next generation. It was
at one of these social meetings that the following curious
legend was recited by a Choctaw chief.

No people have been more noted for their courage and
superior skill in every manly exercise than the Choctaws.

They are brave warriors, successful hunters, and in the
ball-play they have no rivals. Young men are not now
what their fathers were. Old men tell us, that in their
day no one could presume to speak with authority in
council who had not faced an enemy. None could
obtain the smiles of a woman who had not proved his
skill in the ball-play; and if he were unsuccessful in
hunting, it was vain for him to think of a wife. He
became the butt of general ridicule, and the subject of
many a jest ; even the women would join in teazing him,
and jeeringly invite him to stay at home and mind the
pots.

In those days (it was when our fathers were young)
lived Ko-way-Jioo-mah. He was called the Eed Tiger —
for he had the strength and agility of that dreadful
animal, and his skill and cunning were equal to his
strength. Had he seen battle ? The scalp locks of six
Osages which formed the ornaments of his bow attested
it. Had he been a dexterous hunter ? The women held
UT) their children to ffaze at him as he Dassed. and the

* A numerous tribe of Indians wiiose territories lie in Mississippi and Arkansas.
Tliey liave several scliouls and cliurches among them, and have made considerable
progress \n the arts of civilized life.

TALES OF THE

young girls hung down their heads and hluslied, as he
approached them. lyi the ball-pky, lie had long been
the champion of the district. Ko-way-hoo-mah walked
the earth iearleas of man or beast. He even derided the
power of the spirits. He questioned tlie existence of
It-tay-lo-Uys* and Nan-ish-ta-liooAos -, and as to ^UU
- loops, he said he had never seen them— then why should
he fear them ? Dangerous thus to trifle with beincrs
who walk unseen amongst us !

Once upon a time Ko-way-hoo-mah started out on a
hunting expedition. He had an excellent rifle, and he
carried with him a little meal and some jerked venison.
His only companion was a large white dog, which
attended him m all his rambles. This dog was a par-
ticular favourite, and shared in all his master's privations
and success. He was the social companion of the hunter
by day, and his watchful guard by night.

The hunter had travelled far during the day, and as
night approached he encamped in a spot that had every
indication of being an excellent hunting-ground. Deer
tracks were seen in abundance, and turkeys were heard
clucking m various directions, as they retired to their
roastmg-places. Ko-way-hoo-mah kindled a fire, and
having shared a portion of his provision with his dog he
spread his deer-skin and his blanket by the cracklmo-
fire, and mused on the adventures of the day already
past, and on the probable success of the ensuing one
The air was calm, and a slight frost, which was coming,
on, rendered the fire comfortable and cheering. His dog
lay crouched and slumbering at his feet, and from his
stifled criesj seemed to be dreaming of the chase. Every
thing tended to soothe the feelings of the hunter, and to-
prolong that pleasing train of associations which the-
beauty of the night and the anticipations of the morrow
were calculated to inspire.

_ At length— just when his musings were assuming that
-i""vv «^vi vLicaiiij oLiite wiiicu precedes a sound

* For the convenience of those who do not understand Choctaw mytholoev ai*
account of these worthies will hegiven at the end of the tale" ™y»"0'«?y^a'*

shod, as lie
I long been
Tiah walked
derided the
existence of
as to Shil-
vvhy should
v^ith beings

d out on a
fle, and he
ed venison,
log, which
was a par-
1 privations
the hunter

ay, and as
had every
nd. Deer
vere heard
id to their
I- fire, and
lis dog, he
cracklins:
ly already
iuing one.
IS coming.
His dog
from his
3. Every
er, and to*
i^hich the-
e morrow

ning that
a sound

jytholoey^ans

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

115

slumber — he was startled by a distant cry, which thrilled
on his ear, and roused him into instant watchfulness.
He listened with breathless attention, and in a few
minutes he again heard the cry— keen, long, and piercing,
like that which the Tih-ha-hay-Jcah gives in the dance
preceding the ball-play. The dog gave a long, plaintive,
and ominous howl. Ko-way-hoo-mah felt uneasy.

"Can it be a lost hunter?" was the inquiry that
darted through his mind. Surely not; for a hunter,
with his rifle, his flint and steel, feels lost nowhere.
AVhat can it be ? Making these reflections, our hunter
stepped forth, gathered more fuel, and again replenished
his fire. Again came the cry— keen, long, and painfully
shrill as before. The voice was evidently approaching,
and again the dog raised a low and mournful howl.
Ko-way-hoo-mah felt the blood curdling in his veins ;
and folding his blanket around him, he seated himself by
the fire, and fixed his eyes intently in the direction from
which he expected the approach of his startling visitor.
In a few minutes he heard the approach of footsteps ; in
another minute, a ghastly shape made its appearance,
and advanced towards the fire. It seemed to be the
figure of a hunter, like himself Its form was tall and
gaunt — its features livid and unearthly. A tattered
blanket was girded round his waist, and covered his
shoulders, and he bore in his bony hand what seemed to
have been a rifle — the barrel corroded with rust, the
stock decayed and rotten, and covered here and there
with mushrooms.

The figure advanced to the fire, and seemed to shiver
with cold. He stretched forth first one hand, then the
other to the fire ; and as he did so, he fixed his hollow
and glaring eyes on Ko-way-hoo-mah, and a faint smile
seemed to light up his death-like countenance — but no
word did he utter. Ko-way-hoo-mah' s situation may
be imagined. He felt his flesh creep, and his hair stand
on end, and his blood freeze in his heart; yet with
instinctive Indian courtesy, he presented his deer-skin,
and invited his grim visitor to be seated. The spectre'

116

TALE8 OF THE

waved his hand, and shook his head in refusal. He
stepped aside, picked up a parcel of briars from the
thick underwood, spread them by tlie fire, and on this
thorny couch he stretched himself, and seemed to court
repose.

Our hunter was almost petrified with mingled fear and
astonishment. His eyes long continued rivetted uu the
strange and ghastly being stretched before him, and he
was only awakened from his trance of horror by the
voice of his faithful dog, which to his terrified imagina-
tion seemed to exin-ess these words: "Arise, and flee
lor your life ! The spectre now slumbers ; should you
slumber, you are lost. Arise and flee, while I stay and
watch." Ko-way-hoo-mah arose, and stole softly from
the fire. Having advanced a few hundred paces, he
stopped to listen: all was silent, and with a beating
heart, he continued his stealthy and rapid flight. Attain
he listened, and again with renew(>d confidence'' he
pursued his rapid course, until he had gained several
miles on his route homeward. Feeling at length a
sense of safety, he paused to recover breath, on the brow
of a lofty hiU. The night was still, calm, and clear ; the
stars shone above him with steady lustre; and as
Ko-way-hoo-mah gazed upwards, he breathed freely, and
felt every apprehension vanish.

But, alas ! another minute had hardly passed when
the distant baying of his faithful dog struck on his ear.
With a thrill of renew^ed apprehension, he bent his ear
to listen, and the appalling cry of his dog, now more
distinctly heard, convinced him that the spectre must be
in full pursuit. Again he fled with accelerated speed
over hill, over plain, through swamps and through
thickets, till once more he paused by the side of a deep
and rapid river. The loud baying of his dog told him
but too truly that his fearful pursuer was close at hand.

He stopped but one moment to take breath, and then

x)ut scarcely

had he reached

the middle, when the spectre appeared on the bank, and
plunged in after him, closely followed by the panting

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

117

efusal. lie
'8 from tlie
and on this
led to court

led fear and
tted oil the
lim, and he
ror by the
3d imap^na-
ise, and flee
should you
I stay and
softly from
I paces, he

a beating
ht. Again
ifidence he
lied several
b length a
n the brow

clear ; the
B ; and as
freely, and

ssed, when
on his ear.
But his ear

now more
re must be
^ted speed,
1 through
i of a deep
r told him
i at hand.
, and then
he reached

bank, and
le panting

dog. Ko-way-hoo-mah's fear now amounted to agony.
Fie fancied lie saw the fiery eyeballs of his pursuer
glaring above the water, and that his skeleton hand was
already outstretched to grapple with him. With a cry
of horror, he was about to give up the struggle for life,
and sink beneath the waves ; when his faithful dog, with
a fierce veil seized upon his master's enemy. After a
short and furious struggle, they both sunk — the waters
settled over them, and the exhausted hunter reached the
shore in safety.

Ko-way-hoo-mah became an altered man. He shunned
the dance and the ball-play, and his former gaiety gave
place to a settled melancholy. In about a year after
this strange adventure, he joined a war party against a
distant enemy, and never was heard of more.

Such was the tale told by the Choctaw chief; and
many, equally wonderful, were related in turn by the
assembly.

Jt-ta-bo-tays are little sprights of very fUmlnutive stature, being not more than
fifteen inches high: but they have great power, for from them conjurors, or
powwows, as the Indians call them, derive their inflpence. They take their
rides by moonliglit on deers, carrying wands in their hands, and singing magic
songs. EUk'sM, or doctors, receive gifts from them. They are Invisible except
to their favourites.

Nan-ish-ta-hoo-los are demons that wander about the earth.

8hU-loop$ are wandering spirits, empowered to speak— visible, but not
tan|;ible.

118

TALES OF THE

■ik fust df \k |tqiio(3.

A TAtK or TIMES LONG PAST.

Where hath the true-born child of Nature gone,
Who once was scin on every hill and glade ;

Who fleetly bounded o'er the verdant lawn,

Or throu<,'h the thick-set forest's lonely shade ?

Tradition, and the voice of truth reply

•' The white man forc'd him far from home to die."

--" "lt if well, sons of the Salt Lake, that we should
depart to the north of our white neighbours ; for the
Great Spirit, who has left the print of his foot on the
rocks ot the Narrhaganset, has frowned upon our T-ace
Let us go—I have spoken," said the chief warrior of the
1 equot tribe, as he raised from the ground his hunting
pack and rifle. His example was immediately followed
witliout a murmur, by the remnant of that mighty tribe'
who were once the most powerful in that part of
America now known by the name of New England
As the sun sunk slowly behind the dark trees of the
iorest, they reached the last burying place of their
lathers. Here they sat down and offered up prayers to
the Great Spirit ; and left, as they supposed, a plentiful
supply of parched corn and gunpowder for their departed
brothers m the fair hunting grounds of paradise.

The hour of separation from almost all that they held
dear arrived :— they looked at the silvery mountain
stream as it fell from crag to crag, tiU it was lost in the
valley below ; and the chief sighed— for the recollections
ol many years came over his mind.

" There— yes, there," said he, " did I find a white man
many moons ago, faint and ready to die. I gave him
lood, and took him to my wigwam : in return, he gave

NOUTU AMEBICAN INDIANS.

119

fie ?

lie."

we should
ra; for the
toot on the
ti our race,
rior of the
lis hunting

Y followed,
ighty tribe,
at part of

V England,
rees of the
:e of their
prayers to
a plentiful

ir departed
ise.

; they held

mountain

lost in the

(collections

white man
[ gave him
a, he gave

me the fire-water. I drank, and I became a fool.
Hunting ground after hunting ground passed from me ;
atill 1 satisfied myself saying, my white brothers are
few : they want land : there is more than n»y people
want ; let them have it. But, lo ! they increased like a
swarm of bees on the boughs of the wild cherry tree.
From the mountain to the valley by the river's brink the
laiul teemed with them : the graves of t\u) great
iSegamores have been turned up by their ploughshares ;
and the Great Spirit is displeased with his red children
for suffering the pale faces, when they were few and
weak, to become strong and numerous as the leaves of
the forest. They are mighty ; my people are few ; yet
few as they are, our white brothers cannot spare them a
corner of their broad possessions. Our homes must be
in the land of strangers : let us be gone. I have
spoken."

But not a follower moved : the little brook was seen,
where they had often fished for the speckled trout and
the leaping salmon ; the wind sounded mournfully
tiirough the dark forest, where so often the deer and the
partridge had fallen by their unerring aim. The bosoms
of the Pequots swelled with rage and grief, as they
looked once more at those familiar objects, whilst the
fading twilight rendered them visible ; and then, with
half-smothered imprecations, they began their march, in
single file, towards the northern lakes. In the course of
a fortnight they reached the shores of the Huron, and
soon after joined five other tribes ; thus forming the far-
famed confederacy of " the Six Indian JN"ation8."

Twenty years hud now passed away, when a white
man, journeying from Old Plymouth to a fort on a high
hill, was struck on the head by an Indian, who scalped
him, and left him for dead. A party of English settlers,
fortunately passing by the same day, found him, and
carried him to the fort, where, after great attention, he
recovcrcu. wn being asked to what tribe the Indian
belonged, he answered positively that he was a Pequot
chief. The colonists could not believe it, for they had

120

TALES OP THE

long considered that race to be extinct. They could not,
.however, account for the injury he had received, and
were for some time in great perplexity about it. As no
traces of the savage could be discovered, they at length
concluded that he was a straggler from some war party,
whose nation was at variance with the whites, and that
he had, immediately after committing the deed, escaped
and joined his comrades.

— — It was a lovely morning in the beginning of the
• Indian summer * — the blackbirds sung sweetly from the
verdant lawns, whilst the melodious notes of the meadow
lark came up from the neighbouring marshes ; the sky
was clear, and the rays of the sun gave to the tops of
the green pines on which the dew drops stood, a silvery
hue. The fog that had enveloped the Five-Mile Eiver
began slowly to disappear, while the faint roar of its fall
assured the surrounding inhabitants of a fine day. AU
seemed peaceful.

But at this moment there arose a horrid yell from the
woods — the Indian war-whoop was heard, and a band of
Pequots led on by an aged chief, poured forth and fell
upon the astonished inhabitants. One naif of the white
population was killed, whilst the remainder, with their
wives and children, retreated in safety to the block-house
in which the amm anition and provisions were kept. Here
they prepared to make a desperate defence ; whilst one
of their number stole secretly through the woods to the
nearest settlement in order to communicate the melan-
choly tif'ings to their friends. In the course of the day
he returned, accompanied by a band of well-armed men.
But what was their consternation and horror, upon
ascending the hill, to find, instead of the fort and block-
house, a mass of smoking ruins, mingled with the half-
burnt bodies of their friends ! The bodies of several
Indians also were seen lying near the spot, and upon

* This takes place in about October^ after the heat of the Ameriosn s«mT?irr is
over. There is, for perhaps a fortnight or tliree weeks, a peculiar red and smoky
appearance in the horizon, and the weatlier is very still and fine; but there is
nothing in this climate to which I can compare that state of the atmosphere whicii
in America is called the Indian summer.

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

121

J could not,
reived, and
it. As no
Y at length
war party,
J, and that
id, escaped

ling of the
y from the
le meadow
5 ; the sky-
be tops of
i, a silvery
>Iile E-iver
of its fall
day. All

1 from the
a band of
h and fell
the white
svith their
lock-house
spt. Here
whilst one
ods to the
he melan-
)f the day
•med men.
ror, upon
md block-
the half-
af several
and upon

moving one whose dress denoted that he was a chief, he
slowly 0^ .^ned his eyes, and glancing them round on the-
white men, he thus addressed them : —

" Pale faces ! ye have brought this upon yourselves !
The Great Spirit has smiled upon his red children, and
given them subtilty to set fire to the fort, when the eyes
of the young men were turned towards the east ; and
now the Pequotr are avenged. Begone! you embitter
my last hours with your false looks : begone ! for the wild
cat of the forest has more compassion than you. Look
now at yonder burning mass ; it is the last remains of
your friends, and of my tribe. The Great Spirit called
them, and they are now on their way to the home of the
blessed. Bear me to yonder shady tree, and when their
flesh is turned to ashes the Pequot chief will die."

The white men placed him as he requested at the foot
of the spreading tree ; and when the shades of evening
began to fall upon hill and vale, the soul of the last of
the Pequots had flown to its Creator. His body was
buried where he died, by the white men.

The trunk of the aged tree has long since been
decayed, but the grave of the chief is to be seen at thia
day.

■%.

a v\ o 11 m

vat

ed and smoky
; but there is
)8phere which

122

TALES OF THE

The Moose* (Cervus alces) inhabits the northern parts
of the continents of Europe and America. On the
American it has been found as far north as that country
has been fully explored ; its southern range once extended
to the shores of the great lakes, and throughout the New
England states. At present it is not heard of south of
the state of Maine, where it is becoming rare.

The male moose often exceeds the lar^st horse in
size ; the females are considerably smaller, and difterently
coloured. The hair of the male is long and soft; it is
black at the tip, within it is of an ash coloi^r, and at the
base pure white. The hair of the female is of a sandy-
brown colour, and in some places, particularly under the
throat and belly, it is nearly white at the tip, and alto-
gether so at the base.

Dense forests and closely shaded swamps are the
favourite resorts of these animals, as there the most
abundant supply of food is to be obtained with the least
inconvenience. The length of Hmb, and shortness of
neck, which in an open pasture appear so disadvantageous,
are here of essential importance, in enabling the moose
to crop the buds and young twigs of the birch, maple, or
poplar; or should he prefer the aquatic plants which
grow most luxuriantly where the soil is unfit to support
other animals, the same length of limb enables him to
feed with security and ease. When obliged to feed on
level ground, the animal must either kneel or separate
his fore legs very widely: in feeding on the sides of

* It is in Europe frequently called the Elk: but the elk (Cervtu CanadentU) ,
'"Sr t"' ^^'*^*^'' ^^ ^'"*' *^ '^^'^^'"S"^'*^'-^^ fJ^o"" the moose by the most striking

NORTH AMEBICAN INDIANS.

123

mi tint

bhern parts
. On the
iat country
se extended

Lit the New
of south of

it horse in
I difterently
soft; it is
and at the
of a sandy-
' under the
), and alto-

)s are the
the most
h the least
lortness of
^antageous,
the moose
, maple, or
mts which
to support
les him to
to feed on
)r separate
le sides of

>tM Canadensis),
) most striking

acclivities, the moose does so with less inconvenience by
grazing from below upwards, and the steeper the ground
the easier it is for him to pasture. Yet whenever food
can be procured from trees and shrubs, it is preferred to'
that wliieh is only to be obtained by grazing.

In the summer the moose frequents swampy or low
grounds near the margins of lakes and rivers, through
which they delight to swim, as it frees them for the time
from the annoyance of insects. They are also seen
wading out from the shores, for the purpose of feeding on
the aquatic plants that rise to the surface of the water.
At this season they regularly frequent the same place in
order to drink ; of which circumstance the Indian hunter
takes advantage to lie in ambush, and secure the* des-
truction of the deer. At such drinking places as many
as eight or ten pairs of moose horns have been picked
up. During the winter, the moose in families of fifteen
or twenty, seek the depths of the forest for shelter and
food. Such a herd will range throughout an extent of
about five hundred acres, subsisting upon the lichens
attached to the trees, or browsing the tender branches
of saplings, especially of the tree called Moose Wood.*
The Indians call the parts of the forest thus Occupied
Moose Yards.

The moose is generally hunted in the month of March,
when the snow is deep, and sufficiently crusted with ice
to bear the weight of a dog, bur not of a moose. Five
or six men, provided with knapsacks, containing food for
about a week, and all necessary implements for making
their "camp" at night, set out in search of a moose
yard. When they have discovered one, they collect their

* The striped Maple, (Acer striatum) In Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and in
some of the New England States, this maple i.-; known by the name of Moose Wood.
In manv of the forests of Maine and New Hiimpshire, the striped muple constitutes
a great part of the undergrowth ; for its ordinary height is less than ten feet, though
It somet.mes exceeds twenty. The trunk and branches are covered with a smooth
green bark, lor.gitudlnally marked wlih black stripes, by which it is easily dis-
tinguishable at all seasons of the year und wlieme it derives it^ name. It is one
ot the earnest trees whose vegetation announces tlie nnnroach nf smino- an<i iia
principal use consists iu furnishing to the inhabitants", at the close of "winter "a
resource for their cattle wlien their winter forage is exhausted. As soon as tlie
buds begin to swell, the famished horses and cattle are turned loose into the woods
to browse on the young shoots, which Ihcy do with avidi;y.

124

TALES OF THE

dogs and encamp for the night, in order to be ready to
commence the chase at an early hour, before the sun
softens the crust upon the snow, which would
retard the dogs, and facilitate the escape of the deer.
At day-break the dogs are laid on, and the hunters,
weanng large snow shoes, follow as closely as possible.
As soon as the dogs approach a moose, they assail him
on all sides, and force him to attempt his escape by flight.
The deer, however, does not run far before the crusf on
the snow, through which he breaks at every step, cuts
his legs so severely, that the poor animal stands at bay
and endeavours to defend himself against the dogs by
striking at them with his fore-feet. The arrival of the
hunter within a convenient distance soon terminates the
combat, as a ball from his rifle rarely fails to bring the
moose down.

When chased, the moose throws his horns back to-
wards his neck, raises his nose, and dashes swiftly into
. the thickest of the forest ; occasionally his horns prove
the means of his destruction, by being entangled among
vines, or caught between small trees. When the moose
runs over a plain, he moves with greater celerity,
although his gait has the appearance of a long shambling
trot; this, however, is very efficient, from the great
length of his legs. While running in this manner the
divisions of his hoofs, which are very long, separate as
they press the ground, and close again as they are raised
with a clattering sound, which may be heard at some
distance; this circumstance has also been remarked in
the rein-deer.

The acuteness of their sense of hearing, together with
the keenness of their smell, renders it very difficult to
approach them. The Indians attempt it by creeping
among the trees and bushes, always keeping to the lee-
ward of the deer. In summer, when they resort to the
borders of lakes and rivers, the Indians kill them while
crossing the streams, or whpm swinimiTio- frnm tl.a c.lir.».£k
to the islands. When pursued in this manner, they are
the most inoffensive of all animals, never making any

NOHTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

126

e ready to
•e the sun
eh would

the deer.
& hunters,
8 possible,
assail him
3 by flight,
e crust on
step, cuts
ids at bay
e dogs by
vol of the
linates the

bring the

1 back to-
viftly into
►rns prove
ed among
the moose
celerity,
shambling
the great
anner the
3parate as
are raised
[ at some
narked in

5ther with
ifficult to
creeping
3 the lee-
)rt to the
em while

they are
iking any

resistance ; and the young ones are so simple, that they
will let an Indian paddle his canoe up to them and take
them by the head without the least opposition, the poor
harmless animal seeming at the time as contented along-
side the canoe, as if swimming by the side of its dam.

The moose is easily tamed, although of a wild and
timid disposition, and when taken very young they are
domesticated to a remarkable degree. Some years ago
an Indian had two young moose so tame, that when on
his passage up or doAvn the river near which he dwelt, in
his canoe, they always followed him on the bank ; and at
night, or on any other occasion when he landed, they
would come and fondle upon him in the same manner as
the most domestic animal would have done, and never
offered to stray away. Unfortunately, in cr6ssing a deep
bay m one of the lakes the Indian paddled from point to
point, instead of going close to the shore by which route
the two moose were following: at night the young
favourites did not arrive, and as the howling of wolves
was heard repeatedly, it was supposed they were devour-
ed by them, as they were never afterwards seen.

The horns of the moose spread out almosi immediately
from their base : in old animals they increase to a great
size, and have been known to weigh fifty-six pounds
each horn being thirty-two inches long. The horns are
cast yearly, in the month of November; the Indians
employ them for various purposes, cutting them into
spoons, scoops, &c. The skin of the moose is of great
value to the Indians, as it is used for tent covers, beds
and various articles of clothing. '

I will now close the account of the moose with an
anecdote I once heard of a hunter.

The hounds had been put into the woods for the
purpose of scenting a deer— a business with which they
were well acquainted, whilst the hunter placed himsefr
m a convenient spot, suitably near the deer's run-wav
so as CO be able to bring it down at a shot, as it fled at
the noise of the dogs from the mountain to the river.
The spot he selected to wait in ambush was on a certain

■tfy

126

TALES or THE

flat, very near the foot of the steep hill. This flat was
about three-quarters of a mile in length ; at one end was
the hill by which our hunter stood, at the other a steep
^ bank along the edge of the river. The hunter had
chosen his position well ; he had narrowly examined the
contents of his rifle, and made sure that the primirg was
in good order ; he had rubbed the edge of t^ f int on
his hat to rnake it brighter — all was in readin.; \ lie

stood in a listening attitude, with his ear turneu avards
the hill, and his mouth slightly open to assist his hearing.
He had not waited in his hiding place long, when the
distant cry of the hounds struck his ear. He now knew
that but a few minutes would pass before a deer would
be seen bounding along in the path of their run-imy, for
his dogs had given tokens of the chase by their yells.
He was not deceived ; he heard plainly the rapid, but
heavjr bounds of a deer, which in an instant after he
perceived, as it broke over the brow of the hill, with its
majestic antlers thrown back over its neck. Now comes
the decisive moment ; one leap more anc his noble breast
is exposed to death, within a few yards of the fatal gun
which has already been brought to the hunter's cheek,
whilst his eye looked steadily along the smooth barrel.
The trigger was touched — a blaze, and the death-ring
struck sharp and shrill on the still air ; the fugitive, a
noble buck, fell ; and the hunter in a moment, to secure
his victim, having dropt bis gun, and drawn his knile,
sprung a/cross his back in order to cut his throat.

But, behold! the ball had struck one of his horns
only, near the root, which stunned the animal and caused
it to fall : he recovered his feet again before the hunter
had time to v/ound him with his knife, and finding his
enemy on his back, he rose and sprung off with the
speed of an arrov/; whilst the hunter, having full
occupation for his hands in holding fast by the horns,
found no time to invade his throat ; so clinging with his
feet under the belly of the deer, he was borne away at a
fearful rate the whole length of the flat, till he came to
the steep bank of the river, at which place he had no

is flat was
e end was
er a steep
inter had
mined the
imirg was
^ fint on
^^ I lie
d -wards
s hearing,
when the
low knew
ser would
fi-tvai/, for
lieir yells,
'apid, but
after he
., with its
ow comes
)Ie breast
iatal gun
-'s cheek,
h barrel,
eath-ring
agitive, a
bo secure
lis knife,

is horns
d caused
e hunter
ding his
dth the
ing full
B horns,
with his
/vay at a
came to
! had no

NOETH AMERICAN IITDIANS.

127

sooner arrived than, with his rider, the deer plunged
with a tremendous leap into the deep water

Here -a scuffle ensued between the hunter and the

wHh'hLf 7 T'^tT'.'r? *^ l^"'^ '""^ underwater
with his fore feet, while the hunter was striving to hold

Its head, and at the same time cut its tliroat ; this he

soon accomplished, and swimming ashore, drew his prize

alter him, declaring to his companions who had witnessed

It^^Vt' Ti"^ 7''''' '"''"^ assembled on the river's bank
that he had had '' a most glorious ride "

This man's name was John M'Mullen; and he is well

128

TALES OF THE

%mmt\.

Tecumseh (the Shooting Star) was the son of Blaekfish,
and brother of the Prophet of the Alleghany. This
noted warrior was first made known to the public as the
leader of the Indians at the battle of Tippacanoe*
(November 1811). He burst suddenly into notice, but
from that time until his death the attention of the
American people was constantly turned towards him.
He possessed all the courage, sagacity, and fortitude, for
which the most distinguished Indian chiefs have been
celebrated, and more than this, he was always dis-
interested and true to his word. He was an orator as
well as a soldier, and by the persuasive power of his
eloquence, formed one of the most powerful confederacies
amongst the Indians. His watchful mind was ever on
the alert, his enmity never slumbered, and he was a
stranger to personal fatigue. He was of an independent
spirit, remarkably graceful in his address, and reserved
in his manner. He held the commission of Brigadier-
General under King George III.

It is said that at the last conference which General
Harrison held at Vincennesf wit^ the Indians, Tecumseh,
at the end of a long and animated speech, found himself
unprovided with a seat. Observing the neglect. General
Harrison ordered a chair to be placed for him, and
requested him to accept it. "Your father," said the
interpreter, "requests you to take a chair." "My
father!" replied the proud chief; "the Sun is my father,

• A branch of the Wabash, in Indiana. In 181 1, the English, with the Indians
who fouijlil ill liie British service, were defeal6J by the United States' troops ou
the banks of this river.

t A town ill Indiana, on the Wabash.

NORTH A.MER CAN INDIANS.

129

' Blaekfish,
ny. This
blic as the
ppacaiioe*
notice, but
on of the
rards him.
■titude, for
have been
[ways dis-
1 orator as
v^er of his
ifederacies
IS ever on
he was a
dependent
i reserved
Brigadier-

li General
lecumseh,
id himself
t, Greneral
him, and
said the
'." "My
my father,

th the Indians
ates' troops ou

and the Earth is my mother; I will repose upon her
bosom ;" and sayiug this, he sat himself on the ground,
in the Indian manner.

Such was Tecumseh, who fell towards the close of the
battle of the Thames*, in a personal combat with Colonel
Johnson of Kentucky. He was a Shawnee.

Towards the close of the last century. Captain Thomas
Brian of Kentucky was employed by the British govern-
ment to survey certain lands in the central part of Ohio.
Not being so fortunate as to find game for several
successive days, his provisions became scant, and at
length were entirely exhausted. He directed his hunter
to make another attempt to procure subsistence, and to
meet him and his party at a particular spot ; at which,
after the labours of the day were over, he proposed to
encamp for the night. Towards evening the men became
exhausted with hunger : they were in the midst of an
uninhabited wilderness, and every circumstance conspired
to cause the greatest dejection of spirits. After making
painful exertions to reach the place appointed for their
encampment, they had the mortification of learning from
the hunter that h( had again been unsuccessful. He
declared that he had made every possible exertion, but
all his attempts were of no avail, for the whole forest
appeared to him entirely destitute both of birds and
beasts ! At this moment starvation seemed to await
them ; but Captain Brian, feeling his spirits roused by
the thoughts of their desperate situation, thrust his staff
into the earth, and ordered his men to prepare their
camp and make a good fire, whilst he took the gun
of the unsuccessful himter and went forth in pursuit
of game.

He had not left his party more than half an hour,
when he was cheered by the sight of three deer, twoi of
which he shot ; and before he returned to the camp he
had the good fortune to kill a bear. He immediately
called for his n^en to assist him in carrying the game to

* The Thames is a river that falls into lake St. Glair, between lakes Huron and
Erie.

130

TALES OF TIIE

the camp i and no one, exeopt those who have been in a
like H.tuation, can conceive what the feelings are on s eh
an occasion ! °

But n,iseral,le as the plight of the surveyor and his
party h,«l ,,...„, there were others not far off who were
HMthTMig st.ll greater distress. Kve Indians who Ir ,1
been out on a luu.ting excursion, hearing Z re, or of
Cantan. ]5„an s gun, „,ade in„nediat..ly in that dimtio
a;,d arnved at the camp at the san.e n.on.eut that he
They soon exp amed their wretched situation, tell u -
Bnan tliat lor the last two days their whole party ad
subsisted on one skunk! They described the abVnce
ot game, ni the language of the hunter, "as if the whole
loijest was entirely destitute both of birds and beasts"

Captain Bnan told them that he had now plenty for
them and his own party too, and kindly welcomed t^em
to lus tire He bid them help his mln in flaying tl"e
bear and deer, which were now brought into the camn
and then to cook, cut, and carve for themse ves Sv
ooks were expressive of the joy they felt for so nnZ
pected a deliverance ; nor ditf they spare the provk on
Their hunger was such that as soon as one r?nnd ITs
served, another and another were quickly devoured

After all were satisfied, a fine, tall, and graceful youni:
Indian, stepped up to Captain Brian (who was^ n™w
reposing on account of great fatigue and severe rheu
matism , and informed him that the old man present
was a chiei ; that he felt very grateful to the Great and
fc-ood Spmt lor so signal an interposition in their favour •

Great Snfr 17*, \''l°^'' \^"'^''' ""* "^^^'^ 'he
Great bpint, and thank him : that it was the custom on

such occasions for the Indians to stand up in The^r
camp ; and that his chief requested the captain and h s
men to conlorm, in Kke manner, by standing up in"
camp. Briaa repbed, that his men should alf conform
«nd order should be preserved; but as for himself he
^wTu- '" -"ur r^' "'■'' ^^^^ ^giii; but he begged
Thl nl^i ;t ^' ^«^«idered out of any disrespfct:
The old chief then rose as did aU around him j and

NOBTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

131

lifting up his hands, commenced his i)rayer and thanks-
giving in an audible voice. And a more beuutii'ul address
to the Deity, on such an occasion, surely never llowed
from mortal lips ! The tone, the modulation of his voice,
the gestures, all combined to make a deep impression on
his hea.'-)r8. In the course of his thanksgivings he
recapitul, ted the fearful situation in which they so
recently had been ; the liorrors of starvation with which
they were threatened, the vain attempts they had made
to procure food, until He, the Great, the Good Spirit,
had sent the white man forth and crowned his exertions
with success, and so directed him and them to meet, and
to find plenty. But who can describe the abundant
overflowings of a grateful heart ? He continued in this
strain for about half an hour; when Brian's men,
reflecting on their own recent situation, and beholding
the pious gratitude of this " child of the forest," felt

the same sensations, and were melted into tenderness

if not into tears.

The young Indian who so gracefully addressed Captain
Brian in behalf of his chief, was Tecumseh.

1«

•1

132

TALES or THE

ON THE FALL OF TECUMSEH,

THE SHAWTfEE CHIEI WHO WAS KILLED AT MORATIAN
TOWN, ON THE THAMES, 1815.

What lieavy-hoofed conrsers the wilderness roam,
To the war blast indignantly tramping 7

Their mouths are all white as if frosted with foam,
The steel bit impatiently champing.

One moment, and nought but the bugle was heard,
And the war-whoop the Indians had given ;

The next, and the air seemed convulsively stirred.
As if by a storm it were riven.

In the mist that hung over the field of blood,
The chief of the horsemen contended;

His rowels were bathed in the purple flood,
That fast from his charger descended.

The steed reeled and fell, in the van of the fight.
But the rider repressed not his daring,

Till met by a savage whose rank and might
Were shown by the plume he was wearing.

The moment was fearful ; a deadlier foe
Had ne'er swung a tomahawk o'^er him ;

But hope nerved his arm for a desperate blow.
And Tecumseh fell prostrate before him.

Gloom, silence, and solitude rest on that spot
Where the hopes of the red man perished ;

But the fame of *he hero who fell shall not
By the virtuo-s cease to be cherished.

leci
tin(
go\
ces
def
cul
mi{
ofl
mil

NOETH AMEEICAN INDIAKS.

18a

The lightning of genius flashed from his eye ;

In his arm was the force of the thunder ;
But his bolt passed the suppliant harmlessly by,

And left the freed captive in wonder.

Above, near the path of the pilgrim, he sleeps,
With a rudely-built tumulus o'er him ;

And the bright-bosomed Thames, in its migesty, sweep
By the mound where his followers bore lum.

)RAVIAN

Tecum«eh, before his untimely death, had conceived a plan for col>
lecting all the Indians of North America on some portion of the con-
tinent, not inhabited by white people, there to dwell under their own
government, and to enjoy their own religion, inherited from their an-
cestors; to cultivate peace with the white people; to wage none but
defensive wars; to divide their territory into farms, and to live by agri-
culture instead of by hunting. In this way, he believed the Indians
might rise into importance, and assume their rank amongst the nations
of the earth. The plan was a noble one, and worthy the patriotic
mind of its author.

134

TALES or THE

H?vn,?^'r' have been frequently represented as almost
ZT ^. T!^^^^ affection, or indeed of feeling alto-
gether ; but this IS a mistake which probably arises from
It^ f t'^J command over their feelings which they are in
the habit of exercising, particularly when in the presence
ot strangers. Those persons who have had the best
opportunities of knowing the real character of the
inuians, have remarked, air.ongst many other good traits
the great affection that they have for their children, and
the respect which young people pay, not only to their
own parents, but to all elderly people

The children, both boys and girls, appear to be par-
ticularly under he care of their mother t she teacher
them how to make leggins, mocassins, and many other
things that have already been described ; and if she be a
good mother as many of these poor squaws are, she is
particular m keeping her daughters continually employed,
80 that they may have the reputation of being indus-
trious girls, which is a recommendation to the youuir
men to marry them. J'"""b

Corporal punishment is very seldom resorted to for
the correction of children; but if they commit any
lault, it IS common for the mother to blacken their faces
and send them out of the lodge : when this is done, they
are not a lowed to eat till it is washed off, and sometime^
they are kept a whole day in this situation, as a punish-
ment lor their misconduct.

There is a considerable difference in the manners and
characters of different tribes, some being brave, honour-
able, and generous, while others are noted for their

rrr-'Ti;";'' S'^'Y?' " "^"^ ^^^^y ^'''^^^^»- in many
tnbes their fami les appear to be well regulated, and
great pains are taken by the chiefs and principal men to

NOBTH AMEBIC ATT INDIANS.

135

as almost
ing alto-
'ises from
ey are in
presence
the best
' of the
od traits
ren, and
to their

be par-
teacher
ay other
she be a
?, she is
nployed,
^ indus-
e young

i to for
mit any
sir faces
ne, they
netimes
punish-

lers and
honour-
►r their
I many
3d, and
men to

impress upon the minds of the younger part of their
respective nations what they conceive to be their duty.

When the boys are six or seven years of age, a small
bow and arrows are put into their hands, and they are
sent out to shoot birds around the lodge or village :
this they continue to do five or six years, and then their
father procures for them short guns, ana they begin to
bunt ducks, geese, and small game. In the winter
evenings th';ir father will relate to them the manner of
approaching a deer, elk, or buffalo, and describe the
manner of setting traps for different animals : when he
is able, he will take them a hunting with him, and show
them the tracks of wild beasts. To all these instructions
the boys pay the most earnest attention.

The Indians generally appear to be more afflicted at
the loss of an infant, or young child, than of a person
who has arrived at mature ^^ears ; the latter, they think,
can provide for himself in the country whither he
has gone, but the former is too young to provide for
himself.

The men appear ashamed to show any signs of grief at
the loss of any relation, however dear he might have
been to them ; but the women do not attempt to conceal
their feelings; and on the loss of either husband or
child, they cut off their hair, disfigure their faces and
limbs with black paint, and even with cuts, and burn all
their clothes excepting a few miserable rags.

A striking display of the strong affection that an
Indian feels for his child, occurred some years smce in a
town in Maine. One of the Kennebec tribe, remarkable
for his good conduct, had received a grant of land from
the State, and settled himself in a part of the country
where several families were already settled. Though by
no means ill-treated, yet the common prejudice against
Indians prevented any sympathy with him ; and he felt
this keenly, when, at the death of his only child, none of
his neighbours came near him, to attend the funeral.

A few months afterwards he announced his intention
of leaving the village : he called on some of the inhabi-

K 4

13G

TALES OP THB

tanta, arid expressed himself in the following manner :—
" When white man's child die," said he, "Indian man be
sorry ; he help bury him. A\^hen my child die, no one
speak to me— I make his grave alone— I can no live

child, and carried it with him two hundred miles, through
the forest, to join the Canadian Indians.

Not long after the first English settlers had established
themselves in Pennsylvania,', during the winter a white
man's child strayed away i^m his parent's house ; and
alter having m vain been sought in every direction by the
parents for a whole day and night, the father resolved to
apply for assistance to one of his Indian neighbours,
with wliom he had always lived on friendly terms. He
knew the superior facility with which the Indians, who
are m the habit of constantly roaming the woods, can
detect and distinguish objects of sight and sound.
^ Osameo, for that was the name of the friendly Indian
immediately went to the house of the parents, and
looking attentively round it, soon discovered the little
iootsteps of a child and the direction which they had
taken; and although the child's father could hardly
discover the marks and signs by which he was guided, he
toUowed the track with as much apparent ease and
confidence as an English traveller would a turnpike road,
And after tracing it for about three miles into the forest'
he found the poor child lying und^r a tree, crying
bitterly, and almost perishing with cold.

This little incident was the means of reconciling some
of the white people to the near settlement of the
Indians, of whom they had been in dread ; but they now
rather rejoiced in having such good neighbours ; and it
would have been well for both parties, if the good feelings
shown by the Indians to the first settlers in some
hundreds of instances had met with such a return as
men calling themselves Christians were bound to make •
« as lur otherwise.

11/

An anecdote which has been preserved, concerning an
olu Mohegau Indian named Wa-nou, affords a strikiuir

NOETH AMEEICAN INDIANS.

137

lanner : —
m man be
e, no one
n no live
)dy of his
>, through

rtablished
r a white
•use ; and
ion by the
^solved to
ighbours,
'ms. He
ians, who
jods, can
id.

y Indian,
(nts, and
the little
they had
d hardly
uided, he
mse and
ike road,
le forest,
, crying

ing some
of the
ihey now
; and it
feelings
in some
iturn as
• make ;

ning an
striking

example of the strong affection of a father towards his
only son. '

During the frequent wars which took place between
the Indians and the white men, the former had defeated
a party of English soldiers, and put them to flight. The
retreat being without order, a young English officer, in
attempting to escape, was pursued by two of the
savages, and finding an escape impracticable, he deter-
mined to sell his life as dear as possible. He turned
roundto face his enemies, and a violent conflict commenced
in which he must have soon fallen ; but just as one of
his assailants was about to raise the fatal tomahawk over
his head, an old Indian threw himself between the com-
batants, and the red men instantly retired with respect.

The old m.tn took the young officer by the hand,
dispelled his fears, and led him through the forest to his
wigwam, where he treated him with the greatest kind-
ness. He seemed to take pleasure in the youth's
company; he was his constant companion; he taught
him his language, and made the rude arts of his
countrymen familiar to him. They lived happily
together, though the thoughts ofhome would occasionally
disturb the Englishman's tranquillity, and for a while
his countenance appeared sorrowful. At these times
Wa-nou would survey his young friend attentively, and
while he fixed his eyes upon him, the tears would start
into them.

On the return of spring, hostilities were re-commenced,
and every warrior appeared in arms. "VVa-nou, whose
strength was still sufficient to support the toils of war,
set out with the rest, accompanied by his prisoner. The
Indians having marched above two hundred miles, at
length arrived within sight of the English camp.
Wa-nou observed the young man's countenance whilst
he showed him the camp of his countrymen. " There
are thy brethren," said he, "waiting to fight us. Listen
to me. 1 have saved thy life, I have taught thee to
make a canoe, a bow and arrows ; to hunt the bear and
the buftalo ; to bring down the deer at fuH speed, and to

138

TALES OF THE

i I

first le/tW.' '"""'"? ^"'- ^"^ ^'^t thou whe« T
lirst led thee to my wigwam ? Thy hands were like
those of a ehild; they served neither to support nor to
defend thee ; thou wert ignorant, but from me thou L,?
earnt every thing. Will thou be ungrS and r^se
up «nne arm against the red men ? ^ ""■ "■^ raise

tl,„f V ^""".^ Englishman dechu-ed with much warmth
that he would rather lose his own life than shed t™ood
oi one of h.s lud.an friends. The old warrior seemed to
fntr^'^r V '?""> painful reeolleetion ; he eoveml his
face with h,s hands, bowed down his head, andJema ned

a ill 1"'^*T /"' some time; then, making as Hwere
a strong effort, he again looked at the young man an^

-nVs^tC^UrP""'^^^'^ ^''' *«-l-- and^i^lt

my cmmry."'""^'" "^^ *" ^"""8 ■"''°' "^•"^'^ I 1^^
.," ^^^O"^ f°<'}™<>'^ he is still to have a son'" cried

Knowest thou that I have been a father, ;., t I Z no
longer so? I saw my son fall in batte; he iWht
^'5™'y>™y side; my son fell covered wth wounds

Wa-nou pronounced these words with great vehemence •
serenity and his chest heaved with deep sighs Bv

fXwhere Z""^" TS -^^l"^'- ^"^ *^^^^"^ ''^^^^^ th'I
east where the sun had just risen, he said,—

«ff. ^T^ man, thou seest that glorious light—does it
afford thee any pleasure to behold it ?"

" Yes," replied the Englishman, " I never look unon
the rising sun without ple'asure or Without ^ellrg thaX
lul to our great Father who created it "

r^h T ft^ *^^! *^^^ ^"* ^^ Wy, but there is no more
pJe. 3 lor me," said Wa-nou. A momen^ fter, he

8n'3W

the young man a shrub that wn« in fnii ki

ist thou that beautiful plant ?" said he "Hast
thoa any pleasure in beholding it ?"

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

139

•u when T
were like
)rt nor to
thou hast
and raise

warmth,
th'3 blood
leemed to
•vered his
remained
IS it were
man, and
tnd grief,

en I left

L !" cried
e added,
I am no
e fought
wounds,
'til; yes,

emence ;
eir usual
IS. By
ards the

-does it

'k upon
f thank-

"Tes, great pleasure," replied the young man.

"To me it can no longer give pleasure," said the old
man: and then, after embracing the young Englishman
with great affection, he concluded with these words:
" Begone, hasten to thine own country, that thy father
may still have pleasure in beholding the rising sun and tho
flowers of spring,'*

10 more
fter, he

IXJUUl,

" Hast

140

TALES OF THE

In old times, whenever war commenced between the
Englisli and French in Europe, their colonies in America
were involved in its calamities to an unknown and fearful
extent, and wars were constantly going on in America in
which the Indians fought sometimes on the side of the
English against the Trench, and sometimes with the
French against the English. Some chiefs and tribes were
noted for being the firm and faithful friends of the white
men, and others were known as their implacable foes.
In the month of May, 1725, a memorable battle was
fought between the English, commanded by Captain
Lovewell, and the Pequakets, a tribe of Indians who
then inhabited the state of New Hampshire. Amongst
Lovewell's men was a JSTew Hampshire settler, named
John Chamberlain. He was one ot those rugged spirits
who at that time moved from the thickly settled country
near the coast, and penetrated into the wilderness. On
his scouting expeditions to surprise the frontier settlers,
the Indian passed his rude log-house, buried amongst
trees and mountains — around it were the haunts of the
wild beasts of the forest. The smoky rafters of his hut
were hung with gammons of the bear that had tumbled
from the white pine at the sound of his unerring rifle ;
and at night he lay on the soft fur of the dun catamount.
He was tall — tall as the stateliest Indian ; — strong ?
two of them were hardly a match for him with their
tomahawks against his heavy hatchet ; — was he swift of
foot ? he could outrun the mouse in full trot : sagacious
-and eagle-eyed, he entrapped the Indian in his ambush,
and surpassed him in that instinct which guides alike the
savage and the wild beast through the wide and pathless
ibresL

NOnxn AMETIICA-N' ITTDIANS

14<i

ween the
L America
11(1 fearful
nierica in
de of tlie
with the
ibes were
bhe white
ible foes,
ittle was
Captain
ans who
Amongst
p, named
)d spirits
i country
ess. On
settlers,
amongst
;s of the
t' his hut
tumbled
ng rifle ;
bamount.
-strong ?
ith their
swift of
lagacious
ambush,
alike the
pathless

Tlie red men passed cautiously by the dwelling of John
Chambrrlain : as they watched in ambush for game, they
would lie still and suffer him to go on unmolested, even
if there were half a score of them ; for they feared lest
their rifles should miss what they deemed his charmed
body, and bring down his vengeance upon them.

There is a beautiful lake in New Hampshire which is
still called by the Indian name, Winnipisiogoe : it is
twenty-eight mihss long and ten wide; the country
around is hilly, and clothed with thick woods. On the
shores of this lake there dwelt a powerful tribe of Indians
called Pequakets; Jt*augu8 was their chief. He was a
savage of great strength and stature ; swift, cunning, and
deadly with his rifle and his tomahawk ; cniel and venge-
ful beyond the wonted vengeance of savages ; the terror
of man, woman, and child along the frontiers, and even
of the towns tha^ were further removed from the scenes
of his violence.

Parties 1* armed men had penetrated through the woods
to the shores of the Winnipisiogee, to discover the retreat
of this terrible savage, and if possible to take him pri-
But he was too sagacious, and always eluded their

Boner.

search ; once, indeed, w'len they had set his wigwam on
fire, he was hidden so near the spot, that he felt the heat
of the flames, and saw the smoke curling over the tops of
the trees under which he lay concealed.

In the skirmishes with the Indians in which Chamber-
lain was often engaged, he had constantly endeavoured
to single out Paugus as the foe most worthy of his rifle ;
nor was Paugus less willing to encounter the far-famed
settler, but they had never chanced to meet : the time
however was now at hand, when one of these mighty men
must yield to the superior power or craft of his rival.
The English, under Captain Lovewell, had marched out
with the expectation of meeting Paugus and his men ;

4* \\ rwr V\e%^

-i^rkTio-ft^o+^rl +ViA Tironrlsi fn n. PorifsiirlprnWA

^Vii V v*i tv*

distance, and arrived at the place where they expected to
find Indians. Early on the morning of the 7th of May,
whilst at prayers, they heard a gun, and starting up, they

14.2

TALES OF THE

prepared for an encounter ; but no Indians were in siglit
except a hunter, whom Ensign VVyman discovered carrying
two black (hicks in one hand, and a gun in the other,
liiere can be no probability that he thought of meeting
an enemy, but no sooner was he seen by tlie Englisli, than
several guns were fired at him, but missed him. Seeing
that certain death was liis lot, the Indian resolved to
defend himself jia long as he could ; he levelled his gun
at tlie English, and Cai)tain Lovewell was mortally
wounded, whilst almost at the same moment. Ensign
Wyma) ., taking deliberate aim, killed the poor hunter.

The remainder of this day passed without further ad-
venture, tliough the English were in constant apprehen-
sion of falling into some snare prepared by the wily
Paugus. On tlie morning of the 8th, Mr. Frye, the
chaplain, having assembled the men aa usual before' they
resumed their day's march, commenced his prayer with
these words, " We came out to meet the enemy ; we have
aU along pr.iyed God that we might find them ; we had
rather give up our lives to Providence, yea, and die for
our country, than return home without seeing them, and
be called cowards for our pains." The chaphiin did not
pray in vain; for about noon the English troops en-
coujitered an almost overwhelming body of Indians, who
rose from their coverts and nearly encircled them' but
seemed loth to begin the fight ; for they were, no doubt,
m hopes that the English, seeing their numbers, would
yield without a battle : they therefore made towards them
with their guns presented. They then held up ropes
which they had provided for securing their captives, and
asked tliem if they would have quarter. This only en-
couraged the English, who answered, "only at the muzzles
of Oiir guns ;" and they rushed towards the Indians, firing
as they pressed on, and killing many, drove them back
several rods. But they soon rallied and fired vigomuslv
in their turn, and obliged the English to retreat^ leaving
several dead and others badly wounded. Lovewell^
though mortaliy wounded the preceding day, had led his
men until this time, but now fell to rise uo more.

3 in sight
i carrying
lie other.
' meeting
li«li, than
Seeing
solved to
his gun
mortally
, Ensign
lunter.
'ther ad-
pprelien-
the wily
rye, tlie
ore they
fer with
we have
we had
die for
lem, and
L did not
)ops en-
lus, who
em, but
) doubt,
I, would
'ds them
p ropes
^^es, and
•nly en-
muzzles
LS, firing
m back
rorouslv

leaving
3veweU,
. led his

NOBTII AMERICAN INDIANS.

•

143

The hght continued very furious and obstinate till
towards night, the Indians roaring and liowling like
wolves, barking like dogs, and making all sorts of hideous
noises, as is then- custom whilst engaged in battle ; but
before night they were completely defeated, whilst the
loss ot the English was very.great, and, among others, the
worthy cha])lain, Jonathan Frye, was slain.

After the thickest and most dt^sperate of the conflict
was over Chamberlain, weary with fighting, thirsty and
hunt with heat, retired to tlie edge of a lake (since known
by the name of Lovewell's pond) to drink and to wasli
out his gun, which had grown so foul with frequent firing •
that at last he could not make it go off. He pushed his
way through a copse of willows to a little beach by the
pond, when lo ! from the thicket, at a short distance from
him, appeared the stately figure of Pau-us, covered with
dust and blood, and making his way likewise to the water
Ihe warriors knew each other at a glance. Chamber-
lain s gun was useh^ss, and he thought of rushing upon
laugus with his hatchet before he could le^^el his rifle-
but the Indian's gun was in the same condition with his
own, and he too had come to the edge of the pond to
cjuench his thirst, and hastily scour out his foul rifle,
ihe condition of the rifles was instantly seen by the ene-
mies and they agreed to a truce while 'they washed them
out for the encounter. Slowly and with equal movements
they cleaned their guns, and took their stations on the
beach. "Now Paugus," cried Chamberlain, "I'll have
vou;" and with the quickness and steadiness of an old
hunter, he loaded his rifle. "Na, na, me have you"
replied Paugus, and he handled his gun with a dexterity
that made the bold heart of Chamberlain beat faster
whilst he involuntarily raised his eyes to take a last look
ol the sun. They rammed their cartridges, and each at the
same instant cast his ramrod upon the sand. " I'll have
you Paugus," shouted Chamberlain again, as in his despe-
ration he almost resolved to fall upon the savage with the
butt end of his rifle, lest he should receive his bullets before
he could load. P.augus trembled as he applied his powder

•

144

TALES OF THE

horn to the p. hnine;. Chamberlain's quick ear hoard" the
grains of his 'powder rattle lightly on the leaves which
lay at his feet. Chamberlain struck his gun breech
violently upon the ground, the rifle primed itself; he
aimed, and the bullets whistled through the heart of
Paugus. He fell- and as he went down, the bullet from
the mouth of his ascending rifle whizzed through Cham-
berlain's hair, and passed off", without avenging the death
of its master, into the bordering wilderness.

The hunter, after he recovered the shock of this sudden
and fearful encounter, cast a look upon the fallen savage.
The paleness of death had come over his copper-coloured
forehead. He seized the rifle, the bullet pouch, and
powder horn, and leaving him on the sand, sought again
the lessened ranks of the white men, as they wearily de-
fended themselves against the savages. He shouted to
them of the fall of Paugus. The Indians looked around
them ; the tall figure of their chief was no where to be
seen. In grief and despair they ceased their fire, and fell
back into the woods, leaving Wyman with Chamberlain,
and the small remains of the band of white men, to re-
trace their way to the distant settlement.

The spot on which this fight took place was fifty milea
from any white inhabitants, and it was almost miraculous
that any should have escaped death at the hands of Paugus
and his courageous warriors. Those who survived did
not leave the battle ground till near midnight, and only
fourteen lived to return to their friends. One man, name'd
Solomon Keyes, having received three wounds, said he
would hide himself, and die in a secret place, where the
Indians could not find him to get his scalp. As he
crawled upon the shore of Lovewell's pond, at some dis-
tance from the scene of action, he found a canoe, into
which he rolled himself, and was drifted \way by tho
wind. To his great joy and astonishment, he was cast
ashore at no great distance from the iovt at which
TTjman's men shortly after arrived, and gaining
strength, was soon able to return home.
Pijfty men from New Hampshire were immediately or-

NORTH AMBEICAN INJ)IANB.

145

hoard" the
ves which
in breech
Itself; he
heart of
Lillet from
^h Cham-
the death

lis sudden
?u savage „
'-coloured
mch, and
2;ht again
3arily de-
louted to
d around
sre to be
5, and fell
mberlain,
>n, to re-

fty mile&
iraculous
f Paugus
ived did
md only
n, named
, said he
here the
As he
ome dis-
loe, into
' by the
ivas cast
-t which
gaining

dered to march to the scene of action, where they found
and buried the dead. They found the boc^ies of only three
Indiana : the re.jt had undoubtedly been taken away by
their comrades. •

Tims terminated the expedition against the Pequakets ;
and although the whites could L,carcely claim the victory,
yet the Northern Indians received a blow from which
th(^y hardly recovered. Several songs were written upon
the subject, but it must be confeaned that they were much
more circumstantial than poetical ; and it can hardly be
expected that any English reader should take sufficient
interest in the subject to make him wish for even u
specimen.

ateiy or-

146

TALES OF THE

^t Islanir ill ndlaltj Smh,

Lake Superior in North America is the largest body of
fresh water in the world, being 400 miles in length, and
varying from 50 to 150 in breadth. It forms part of the
boundary between the United Htates and Canada. The
shores are bold and steep, rising on tlie northern coast to
the height of one thousand live hundred feet above the
level of the water. There are several islands in this lake,
the largest of which is "Isle Eoyal," one hundred miles
long and forty broad, and there 'is one called the " Island
of Yellow Sands," about which strange tales are told.
But before I begin the fabulous part of my story, I will
mention that many parts of the rocky shores and islands
of Lake Superior abound in copper ore, and brilliant iron
pyrites, in granite, crystal, cornelian, and greenstone.
In some places are large veins of transparent spar, and
masses of rock which appear to be composed of iron ore.
The "Island of Yellow Sands" derives its chief interest
from the traditions and fanciful legends which the
Indians preserve concerning its mineral treasures, and
their supernatural guardians. They maintain that its
shores are covered with a heavy, shining, yellow sand,
which they would persuade us is gold, but that the guar-
dian spirit of the island will not permit any of it to be
carried away. To enforce his commands he has drawn
together myriads of eagles, hawks, and other birds of prey,
which, by their cries warn him of any unlawful intrusion
on his domain, and assist with their claws and beaks to
drive away the enemy. He has also called up from the
depths of the lake, large serpents of the most hideous

NORTH AMERICAN INDTANfl.

147

golden sands, and

body of
igth, and
irt of the
ia. The
i coast to
bove the
this lake,
ed miles
" Island
are told,
T, I will
a islands
iant iron
enstone.
par, and
iron ore.
interest
lich the
res, and
that its
w sand,
lie guar-
it to be
5 drawn
of prey,
itrusion
Deaks to
'om the
hideous

forniB, that lie thickly coiled upon t

hiss defiance to the steps of every invader.

Overcoming all these obstacles however, some Indians
have been so fortunate as to obtain and bring away lumps
of native copper, as it is called ; and bringing sucii proof*
in their hands, who can refuse to believe their assertions
however marvellous ? A brilliant specimen, of not less
than ten or twelve pounds' weight, was brought away by
a Winnebago Indian, who gave the following account
of his adventures : —

*' One beautiful afternoon of a summer's day, whilst I
was paddling my canoe along the borders of the Oreat
Lake, of which the calm waters were gilded by the red
rays of the setting sun, I saw before me the form of an
angelic being, standing on the water. Her eyes were so
dazzling that I could not look at them ; in one hand she
held out a lump of pure gold, and with the other she
beckoned me to follow her. I immediately paddled my
boat in the direction in which the sweet figure stood, but
the faster I advanced, the faster she glided on before
me, till at length she approached the shore of the ' Island
of Yellow Sands ;' she then moved slower, and as I drew
nearer I could perceive that the figure was gradually
altering in shape and colour. Her eyes lost their
dazzling brightness, her cheeks were no longer the colour
of the rose, and the form of the beautiful woman imper-
ceptibly faded away, and in its stead I beheld a being
with a human face, with the fins and tail of a fish, and
the rainbow colours of a Dolphin.

I sat awhile in silent amazement, fearful either to go
forward and touch the wondrous being, who still seemed
to make signs that I should take the precious metal
which lay on the sand beside it; and alike fearful to
incur its wrath by disobediently turning away and
leaving it. At length I thought to make an oflering of
K'nick-k'neck* of which I had a roll in my canoe. I

■^ iV'IilClL-ll. IIUL'iV, 13 iiic xiiulati name ii't vwtf,-i-j •<" ,- ...••£—••—_. vr

Into the fire, into lakes or rapids, or into the crevices of rocks, to propitiate the
genius, or unknown spirit of the place : for the evil there is In the world they
ascribe to the influence of apirita.

■^

148

TA.LES OF TUB

did 80, and then ventured to lay my hand on the shimne
lump of metal It was so heavy that I could hardly lift
It, but tinally 1 succeeded in hearing it away, and when
1 had placed it safely at one end of my canoe, I took my
seat at the other, and paddled gently away towards the
Shore. Jiut great was my astonisliment on looking back
to see the Guardian Spirit of the island, graduaUy melt-
mg away into a thin and many-coloured mist,

' Strange birds appeared on high with sparkling wings,
And yet, their gilded forms, seen by the beam
Aslant of setting sun, seemed not like birds.'

With much pains I carried my treasure home with me •
but when I went to show it to my frieuds, I found that
It was no longer the rich lump of gold which the deceit-
ful being had hrst offered me, but merely a huge mass of
copper! Upon this I became angry, and began to abuse
the treacherous spirit for having tempted me to land on
that dangerous island, and then cheated me. But my
.riends consoled me, and reminded me, that

_ * She had cheated ethers like myself.

Long ere the white man's ha.^chet struck among

Iheiorests; when the sea-fovl scream'd

Unscared. For when the bounding deer and roe,

vv' h the red desert-sons joint tenants were,
Ou came the awe-struck wanderers to float

Their frail canoes for treasure o'er the lake.
No feather'd arrow o'er its bosom sped,
To tinge, with sea-fowl's blood, the sacred wave.
2 or ane, nor spear disturb'd the finny tribes
But wondering they view'd the sandy isle. '
Illusive visions mocked them, as me ;
And fancy saw a paradise arc :nd, and worlds
More fair than brightest dream of mortal man.
Then sighmg, thought they of that happier home.
Compar'd with theirs ! They tented on the shore
At eve, and through the trembling moon-beams savr
l^escend a thousand tmy forms, more fair
Than aught of earth, to bathe in the pure lake

-' '•• "-/^ ui iain;y lufii oenela

Them, sometimes sporting in the balmy air—
Or sailing on the waves— or diving down,

le shimng
liardly lift
and when
[ took my
wards the
king back
illy melt-

with me ;
mnd that
le deceit-
e mass of

to abuse
) land on

But my

NOETH AMEEICAN INDIANS. 149

For frolic, in the crystal element,

To deck their leather-cinctui'd vests

"With brightest rainbow plumage, stol'n from birds

That haunt the streams, the forests, fields, and floods.

Their sports, caresses, and ethereal joys,

Were limited to twilight's musing hour: —

For, as its p:;sty light gave way to gloom.

Amidst then. — tall, gigantic, stern and fierce.

In bark of pumice-stone, a warrior sat;

"With copper oars he moved it through the wave.

Round his red brawny breast, a copper bow

"Was hung; and copper arrows, tipp'd with plumes

Of jetty black his ample quiver fill'd;

And as the birds fly screaming, scar'd before

The gunner's bark, the fairy army fled :

Some, shrieking, plung'd bel ..• ; some rose

And faded, like a shooting star ; and soon

The sullen warrior cross'd the waves alone.'

" I was pacified ; for I knew what my friends said was
quite true, and that I ought rather to be thankful that
my canoe was not drawn under water by the copper-
armed warrior, and that I had not been strangled by the
great hissing serpents that conceal themselves under the
yellow sands, than angry at liaving carried away copper
instead of gold. I recollected how many Indians had
gone, but never returned from that island ; and how
others, who had returned, w^ere so much frightened that
they would never venture there again ; and I well knew
that many years ago, some people of my own nation,
being driven by stress of weather to take shelter upon
the ' Island of Yellow Sands,' had been tempted by the
beautiful and glittering appearance of the treasure, to
put a large quantity of it in their canoes in order to
carry it off ; but a frightful and gigantic figure strode
into the water after them, and, in a voice like the roar-
ing of a buffaloe, commanded them to bring it back.
Terrified at his amazing size and thundering voice, they
instantly obeyed, and were afterwards suffered to depart
without fu ther molestation, but they have never since
attempted to land there — nor will I.

L 3

TALES OP THE

' Listen, Red man — go not there,
Unseen spirits walk the air ;
Ravenous birds their influence lend,
Snakes defy — and kites defend.
There the star-ey'd panther howls.
And the wolf with hunger growls ;
There the speckled adder breeds,
And the famish'd eagle feeds ;
Spirits keep them— fiends incite ;
They are eager for the fight,
And are thirsting night and day
On the Indian's blood to prey :
Touch not then the guarded lands
Of the ' Isle of Yellow Sands !' "

Such are the traditions still current among the various
tnbes of Indians f^-'equenting this portion of the country ;
and absurd as they are, so superstitious are these poor
creatures, that the greater part of them believe the tales
most devoutly.

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

151

(KiWIptioit.

3 various
30untiy ;
3se poor
she tales

The insurmountable obstacle to the eivilization of the
North American Indians has always been their aversion
to regular industry. Nowise inferior in natural under-
standing to any nation, they have, with few exceptions,
remained stationary, or advanced but a few steps in the
scale of civilization since they first became acquainted
with white men. The Jesuits were the first who
attempted the great work of converting them to
Christianity, and even as early as the year 1633 the
number of Jesuit priests in Canada was fil'teen, and every
record bears testimony to their worth. They had the
faults of superstition, but the horrors of a Canadian life
in the wilderness were overcome by an invincible passive
courage, and a deep sense of duty. Many suftfered
violent death, and the few who lived to grow old were
bowed down by the toils of a long and painful mission.
The history of their labours is connected with the origin
of every celebrated town in Trench America, and not
a cape was turned, nor a river entered, but a Jes- dt led

the way.

The Jesuits Brebeuf and Daniel wete soon followed by
Lallemand and many others of the same order, who
joined a partj of Huron Indians returning from Quebec
to their own colmtry. The journey was more than nine
hundred miles long, and great part of it through a region
of dense forests. Often the missionaries had to wade,
dragging their canoe through shallows and rapids, over
sharp stones : often it was carried on their shoulders for
miles through thick and tangled woods. At night there
was no other food for them than a little Indian corn

.t^:^^A •r.r,+l» ■nro'i-fi'n onrl flio Vlttrfl An.rth WTftS thfiir OTllv

couch. Yet thus, with torn garments and wounded feet,
they cheerfully advanced to meet death, if it were

L 4

152

TAIES OP THE

wildernesa. i.lTTr, thoZ\t, ^f'^'^f "»« Huron
axe, they raised a'lttll.JI **f ' ^^ *'"' ''"'P "^ the
Joseph. Here the itliW' T'^ "^^''^''ted it to «t.
hope for etenml rest thT;;. "■ T '^''^ *™Sht to
war, were yvZ^ed nf\t *"?:''* ^^f thej returned IVom

Binner«, and thTidlers of thTtV*'"'^, ^'"^^'^ "'<''"«*
the Saviour's death Cthetredetp^ti^f^'T^"''!, '"''' °'

visited by fortftwr::'^ •''" ^''■"°"' ^"''■-"-^ ^vas

soeietyof^JeS&srhTrTSjroftf ^^ "V«
persuasion, who werP p}in«!l -^ . . *'^® Komish

ready to , hod ^heTrUofd" for tS'S/V " '?T?^
zeal of the Piench hpar fl.^ V; ? :f ' "^^^^ ^^ the

Superior, and Wrdr ^e' hres°of"th"1"" "'' ^''^
valley of the Missiasinm . fl™ v /"** '"'""' ■» tlie

Joh/ EKot had addXd the f f ^'S'*' *''« '"*""™We
six miles of BostoTTu""' ■.*,'•'** dwelt within
progress of their missions a, rt** *''i'"S,^ ^'^'' the

Oospel amongs the red mtn bL^"'''"' 'y 'f/'^'"* *''<'
admit of any thin- ™nt Ti! ' T. W, Plan does not
%.„4.T, 2^ *^ ^iun^" more than a brief akefol. i,^*-^ j j
rather to excite thau to satisfv the curios^tv nf '''*^^^^^

the. to the r:x^^:^:^^^y>^^ -^"

among these earty missionaries was ^ohXt'^Xt

EnUS mt\TTeZot' ZLT'^l' «- ^"^^»- ." -- born i„

Sii^K He died in 1690. aged eightvJsix ^n m "^^ra as long as his life per-
Massachusetts, he was miich belovfd . -n^' " ^'^ °^" ?«"»•» of loxbuivh in

j,„„... ■ - - -. "^ -««. .»^= .<, i D6il.,. ae Lora <ieBii;«"i,".'ii for

bore, and
le Huron
Ip of the

it to 8t.
aught to
necl from
' against
e told of
dormant

breasts,
^ere now

ess was
of the
Komish
Grospel,
did the
of Lake
in the
mirable
within
ce the
Bad the
•es not
tended
young
3t was
id win
"emost
whose

born in
inisteriil
life per-
iii'Mh, in
le dispo-
him his
le could!
ifore lie
nd told
'tsj but

■ ^^* tt:rr

all for

NOBTH AMERICAN UfDIAKa.

153

benevolence has never been surpassed, and whose thoughts

fnrhf fu "'""' '"^Pi'-^'l by the most disinterested love
for his iellow-creatures. He mixed with the Indians
He spoke to them of God and the immortality ofThe
soul. Groups oi Indians used to gather round liim as a
father and now that their minds were awakened to
reflection, often perplexed him with their questions He
spared no pains to teach them to read and write, and wiU
inhnite labour made and pubUshea a translation olTe
whole Bible into the Massachusetts dialect.

of n„ «, 'n " '!'"■''" ,P-™1'" *° ""^'""^ ••' N'Pmuk Indian

,„11 1 "t" ""'", '"„'"' ""'«' «•>» % the English was
called " James-tlie-Priuter." When a child ^» h^

been instructed in the Indian school^ a? Cambridge in

Massachusetts, and in 1C59 was put apprentice to a

printcj, in order to learn that b iess.~i085 the

and from the following testimony of Mr. Eliot, it will be
seen how much the success of that undertakin. was con
sidered to depend on James-the- Printer. In wrTtiL to
the Hon. Eobert Boyle in Loudon, Mr. ElioT says:-^

vears tl nf T '"' f""" ^''^°"', ^ '"''' l""* ^ ""^ «« deep in
years, that I cannot expect to live long ; besides we have

lut one man, namely, the Indian prinUr, that Ts' Ible to
ZZg." "^"'''' '"^ ^''™'^' *^<^ P'-^ -a ^der!

l\!^V ih ^-T** '•'^"'Pies, nor was his zeal wearied bv
the hereditary idleness of the Indian race ; the simplieity
of his hfe and manners, and the evangelical sweetness of
his temper, won him aU hearts, whether in th^ more com
fortable dwellings of the emigrant s-rttlers, or inX LXv
eels of the natives. Xet, notwithstanding his zeal iff
Ehot seems to have weU understood that something beside
preaching was necessary to reform the Uves of the Indians

voni^nt^a^s-w;^.;^™?^^^^^^^^

made ; families of "praying Indians" we! e drawn together

154

TALES or TlIE

mto Villages, and churches were gathered amongst thfe
heathen. Of these Mr. Eliot visited as many and as often
as he was able, and from the following passage in a letter
which he wrote to Mr. Winslow of Plymouth, some idea
may he formed of the hardships he underwent in his pioua
labours. "I have not been dry night or day," says he,
" from the third day of the week unto the sixth, but so
travelled, and at night pulled off my boots, wrung my
stockings, and on with them again, and so continue
But God steps in and helps." Nor was Eliot alone. In
the islands round Massachusetts, and in the neighbour-
hood of Plymouth, missionary zeal and charity were active,
yet Christianity hardly spread beyond the Indians of that
vicinity; and the Narragansetts, a powerful tribe con-
taining at least a thousand warriors, hemmed in between
Connecticut and Plymouth, retiined their old belief, and
Phihp of Pokanoket at the head of seven hundred warriors
professed with pride the faith of his fathers. The aged
Massasoit— he who had welcomed the Pilgrims to the soil
of New England, and had opened his cabin to shelter the
founder of Rhode Island*— was now dead; and his son,
Phihp of Pokanoket, had succeeded him as chief over
many allied tribes.

That the Pokanokets should have always rejected the
Christian faith and Christian manners, is not to be
wondered at, for as Neal, the ancient historian of New
England,^ observes, "If it be difficult to civilize barbarous
nations, 'tis much more so to make them Christians ; for
aJl men have naturally a veneration for the religion of
their ancestors, and the prejudices of education are
insuperable without the extraordinary grace of G-od."t

• This state was first settled by Ko^jet Wmfams in 1636;
Tn^i.fnV. J"™®!'?!:^*'',^""^ ^®*^'*" •'"' lalK,urs. H little commonity of «'prayJntf
mlerof if7v .n?i£^^^^ WMuban. a Nipmuk Indian, was made a

ruler of fifty, and subseqaently a justice of the peace. On one occasion he JssnPrf

Jc?nT'.'fo1rlf,V^'"'n',l? *'•'* '-T •'••^"d.Jriting. of ^'cM^e folloVing'a
hnW;„ « f ' ^ K )"^ constable, qucl< you catch Jeremiah Offscow, strong you
hold urn, safe you brinjr um afor« me. WAr»A v. .ru«Hce d«>..~- " * t-A % ""*.i,"^
tune being a«ked what he would do wlien Indiu.w got^lfunrand'quarrellerha

JfOETH AMEHICAW INDIANS.

155

ngst thfe
\ as often
I a letter
3me idea
^lis pious
says he,
I, but so
•ung my
ontinue.
>ne. In
ighbour-
e active,
i of that
be con-
between
iief, and
t^arriors,
be aged
the soil
Iter the
lis son,
ief over

ted the
to be
3f Nevr
[•barous
ns ; for
»ion of
on are
od."t

" praying
js made a
he issued
llowing is
trong you

ft Wfltfllicx'

relied, ho
and whir.

No tribe of Indians has advanced ^ so far towards
civilization as the Cherokees ; they are a noble, and were
once a powerful tribe, who may with propriety be called
the mountaineers of America. They originally occupied
the highlands of Carolina, Georgia, and Alabama, the
most beautiful and healthy region east of the Mississippi.
Their homes were bounded by hills rising above hills,
the lofty peaks of which are gilded by the early sun, or
sometimes lost in the dark clouds. There the rocky
cliffs rise in naked grandeur and defy the thunder
storm ; there the fertile slope was covered with luxurious
herbage, or with stately chesnut an I hickory, while
profusion of magnolias and flowering rarest trees deco-
rate the plains.

Through this lovely region were once scattered the
little villages of the Cherokees, more than fifty in
number, each consisting of a few wigwams, erected
where a bend in the mountain stream afforded at once a
defence, and a ri<;h soil for culture. They loved their
native land, and above all they loved its rivers. Who
can say for how many centuries, safe in their undisovered
fastnesses, they had decked their war-chiefs with the
feathers of the black eagle, and listened to the counsels
of their aged men ?

The Cherokee settlements on the north side of the
Arkansas, now contain plantations of cotton, corn, sweet
potatoes, beans, pumpkins, and other vegetables, in a
state of good cultivation. They have decent log houses,
like those of the white people, and there are schools in
which the children and youth learn to read and write
English. All the missionaries declare, that the Indian
children in their schools are more modest and affectionate,
and more easily managed than is commonly the case in
schools ; also that they make much greater progress ;
probably for this reason— they go to school on purpose
to learn, and not as a matter of course. They know too
that many children apply for admission into the schools
with the most pressing entreaties, but are rejected,
because the missionaries have not sufficient means to

}56

TALES OF THE

support them ; and they fear that if they do not make
good use of their privileges, they may be didmissed to
make room for more worthy scholars,
, The Cherokees have magistrates and a regular police
m some of their settlements, and Cherokee newspapers
have been published weekly for some years. Kext to
them m civilization come the Choctaws, many of whom
can read and write They are also decently clothed in
manufactured articles, and not as of old, dressed in the
skms ol beasts. Thanks to the indefatigable perse-
verance of the missionaries, Christianity is making its
way gradually ir -^very tribe amongst whom these worthy
men have dwelt. Eliot's Bible ^remains a monument of
the patient industry and piety of this "apostle of the
Indian but it is no longer used. Instead of employing
themselves m translating the Scriptures into the vaiioua
Indian dialects, or to any great extent in learning these
barbarous languages, the missionaries now make use
ot the more rational method of teaching the neonle
especially the children, the English language ; Ld in
that language make them acquainted with the arts and

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

167

Up to the year 1G07, every attempt to settle a colony in
Virginia had failed ; and, at this time it would have failed
also, but for the unexampled perseverance of one man.
John Smith, an adventurer of rare genius and undying
fame, together with Eobert Hunt, a gentleman of great
fortitude and modest worth, Edward Wingfield, a mer-
chant, Captain Newport and others, had for more than a
year projected a colony in Virginia. The brave Gosnold
had already witnessed the fertility of the western soil,
and had long solicited the concurrence of his friends for
the establishment of a colony ; they were now resolved to
risk their own lives and their hopes of fortune in an
expedition to the New World, and waited only till James
I. should give his rcyal consent to their emigration.
This was granted, and with it the first written charter
of an American colony— giving nothing but a desert,
and the right of peopling and defending it ; all legislative
authority, the control of all appointments, and the hope
of ultimate revenue, the monarch reserved to himself.

On the 19th day of December, 1606, one hundred and
nine years after the discovery of the American continent
by Sebastian Cabot, the little squadron of three vessels
commanded by Captain Newport, bearing one hundred
and five men, set sail for a harbour in Virginia. The
voyage was not begun under very auspicious omens. Of
the hundred and five emigrants, there were only twelve
labourers, and very few mechanics. They were going
to a wilderness in which there was not a house standing,

and
carpenters.

were iOrty-eigiit gentlcmcu uud but

four

168

TALES or THE

It was not till the end of April that they entered the
magnificent bay of the Chesapeake, and a few days after,
sailed up a noble river, which v a,^ nnraed after the
English monarch; the peninaiili J Jamestown, about
fifty miles above the mouth of the alreain, was chosen for
the site of the colony, Whilo the men were employed
in felling timber. Smith, Newport, and som(» otliers as-
cended the James Itiver to the great falls. They visited
the native chieftan Powhatan, who has been called the
*' Emperor of his country," at his seat in AVero-wocomoco,
just below the falls at Eichmond. The imperial residence
was a village of twelve wigwams ! The savages murnnired at
the intrusion of white men into their country, but Pow-
hatan endeavoured to disguise his fears, and would only
say, " they hurt you not, they only take a little waste
land."

Of all the chiefs of his age Powhatan was the most
famous in the region of Virginia ; he is described as tall
and well proportioned, bearing an aspect ol sadness — ex-
ceedingly vigorou; , and possessing a body capable of en-
during great hardi ihips. He was about sixty years of age
when Captain Smi<:h first saw him; his hair was grey,
and he had a majeg tic appearance. At his principal resi-
dence at Wero-wo< omoco he had a wooden form to sit
on, his ornamentd robe w^as of racoon skins, and his
head-dress was eoKiposed of many feathers wrough into
a sort of ci vn. He usually kept a guard of forty or
fifty of the most resolute of his men about him, especially
when he slept; but after the English came into his
country he increased therr number to two hundred.
Like the New England chiefs, he had many places of
residence at which he passed certain seasons of the yeaa* :
at some of these he had vfery spacious wigwams, thirty or
forty yards square, and against his coming food was
always provided.

About the middle of June, Newport set sail for Eng-
land. A more pitiable condition can hardly be imao-ined
than that of the English whoni he left"^ in Virginia.
Wingfield, who had been made governor, was already de-

NORTH AMEEICAN INDIANS.

159

ired the
ys after,
['ter the
I, about
osen for
nployed
liers ay-
visited
'led the
eomoco,
isidence
Hired at
it Pow-
Id only
J waste

lO most
as tall
ss — ex-
of en-
3 of age
s grey,
lal resi-
to sit
Lnd his
ht into
>rty or
)eciany
tto his
mdred.
ices of
? year :
irty or
)d was

• Eng-

rginia.
dy de-

posed, having been guilty of engrossing the choicest stores
for his own use ; and itatclifle, the new president, pos-
sessed neitlier judgment nor industry; so that the
management of the sili'airs fell into the hands of Smith,
whose wisdom and courage were equal to all emergcjicies.

The liopes which the g cat beauty of the country had
raised, now . anished ; the heat of the summer was in-
tolerable to men used to a northern climate, and the
fertility of the soil, covered with rank luxurious plants,
increased the toil of cultivation. Small in numbers, and
weakened by disease brought on by heat and bad pro-
visions, despair of mind ensued, so that in less than a
fortnight after the departure of the shij)s, " hardly ten of
them were able to stand."* Their rude fortifications
were left unfinished for want of labourers, and no regular
croj)s were planted. Before vhe autumn fifty men, one
half of the colony had [)L'rished; amongst them was Bar-
tholomew Gosnold, the original prelector of the settle-
mejit, a man of ^reat wurth and iiiflu*aice amongst them.

The hostility a id distrust of he natives had already
been excited, and they had been unwilling throughout
the smnmer to bring any provisions for sale ; but as
autumn approached they came and made a voluntary
offering of Indian corn ; supplies vere also collected by
expeditions into the interior, and as the winter drew near
the fear of famine was removed by the abundauce of game
and wild fowl in the forests and on the waters. Leaving
the colonists to enjoy the plenty which winter had
brought. Smith proceeded to discover the sourc*; of the
Chickahomiiiy, a stream which flows into the James
Eiver. When he had passed up as far as it was navigable
for his barge, he left it in a wi ; place, at a safe distan('e
from the shoiv, and ordered his men not to go <m shore
on any consideration. Taking with him some of his own
men, and two Indians as guides, he proceeded to complet.
his discovery. He had scarcely left the boat an hour,
when his men, regardless of his ordera. followed him;

* Purchas. iv. 1G89.

TOO

TALES OF THE

thoy were met in the woods by a party of Indiana, who
attacked them and killed one of tlieir number, whilst the
rest escaped with dilTieulty.

Ope-can-ea-now, the brother of the chief, or sachem
Pow-ha-tan, having h-arned from the men who had killed
one of Smith'H party, tliat he was still in the neighbour-
hood, immediately went out with a large body of Indians:
finding two Englishmen ask^ep, they killed them, and
then continued their pursuit of Smith, who had gone to
some distance from them to shoot game for provision.
As soon as he was aware of their approach, he endeavour-
ed to retreat to his boat, which was not far distant, but
being very hard pressed, he fought upon the retreat, and
killed three, and wounded several of his pursuers.
Being obliged to give all his attention to the enemy, he
accidentally fell backwards into a creek, where the mud
was so deep that he could not extricate himself But
now it seemed that none dared la} hands on him, and he
observed that those, whom their own numbers forced
nearest to him, trembled with fear.

When he could no longer stand in the mire without
perishing with cold, he threw away his arms and sufi'ered
them to come and take him. After pulling him out of
the creek, they led him towards a fire which had been
kindled in the woods, and seemed willing to show him
kindness, drying his clothes, rubbing his benumbed
limbs, and warming him by the fire. Smith now asked
for their chief, and Ope-can-ca-now appeared, to whom
he presented a small mariner's compass. This amused
them greatly. " Much they marvelled of the playing of
the fly and needle, which they could see so plainly, and
yet not touch it, because of the glass that covered them.
But when he demonstrated, by that globe-like iewell, the
roundnesse of the earth, and skies, the spheare of the
sunne, and moone, and starres, and how the sunne did
chase the night round about the world continually — the

DT'eJitnPSSf' of* thp lilTirl nrirl apq fVia rJivafaifio r\f yiofinno

varietie of complexions, and how we are to them antipo-

ana, who
hilst the

• sachem
ad killed
i^hbour-
Indians:
em, and
gone to
revision,
deavonr-
:ant, but
'oat, and
)iirsuers.
lemy, he
the mud
f. But
, and he
8 forced

without
auft'ered
1 out of
ad been
low him
numbed
w asked
3 whom
amused
tying of
ily, and
d them,
^ell, the
of the
nne did
ly — the

antipo-

NORTH AMEHICAW INDIANS.

101

des, and many other such like matters, they all stood
amazed with admiration !"*

Yet, notwithstanding his success in explaining to them
his knowledge of geography, and astronomy, (how much
of it they understood, we will not undertake to say,)
within an hour after, these capricious savages bound him
to a tree, and a number of them seemed prepared to
shoot him. But when they took their bows and arrows
in their hands, Ope-can-ca-now held up his compass, and
they all laid down their weapons.

The decision of his fate was referred to Powhatan, and
he was led in triumph to Orapakas, a temporary seat of
that chief. Here they feasted him and kept him so well
that he thought thej were fatting him to kill and eat.
I laving a high opinion of his j)ower, they took him to
visit a sick man whom they desired him to cure ; but he
told them he could not, unless they would let him go to
Jamestown, and get something with which he could do
it. This they would by no means consent to, but he
prevailed upon some of them to go thither, with the idea
of bringing back something very curious. The journey
was cheerfully undertaken in the most severe frost, th&
country being every where thickly covered with snow at
the time.

Smith had charged his messengers with a letter to the
fort at Jamestown — a leaf torn from his pocket-book, on
which besides writing for a few articles to be sent, he
gave them to understand what his situation was, and that
the savages were concerting a plan for surrounding and
destroying their settlement.

Nothing could exceed their astonishment when they
found on their return that the parcels which they brought
to Captain Smith from the fort, contained the very
articles he had promised them. That he could talk to
his friends at so great a distance, was utterly incompre-
hensible to them. The curiosity of all the tribes of the
iiuxiijuLnjixiiiwOu. naa uw iii\.vu.vu. uy Liieir eiDraoruiuary

ixu x^ jLt i/u uj. iiuOu

• Smith's History of Virginia,

162

TALES OF THE

prisoner, and he wm conducted from village to village,
and from tribe to tribe, through several nations; and
then, by a circuitous course, back to the royal residence
of Powhatan.

Here their pow-wows practised conjurations on him for
three successive days, to ascertain, as they said, whether
he mtended them good or evil. They then came to the
conclusion that he was a being of a supr^rior order ; and
as they admired his calm self-possession, which never
forsook him, their minds became the more bewildered.

Having gone througli all the manoeuvres that their
principal pow-wows could devise, they took him before
Powhatan. " Here* more than two hundred of those
grim courtiers stood wondering at him, as iii' he had been
a monster, till Powhatan and his trayne had put them-
selves in their greatest braveries. He was seated before
a hre, upon a seat like a bedstead, having a robe of
racoon skins, and all the tayles hanging by." On each
side of him sat a young woman ; and upon each side of
the apartment were two rows of men, with as many
women behind them. These last had their faces and
shoulders painted red ; some of them wore white downy
feathers in their hair, and strings of white beads on their
necks. On Smith's being brouglit into the presence of
Powhatan, all present joined in a loud shout.

"The queen of Apamatuck was appointed to bring
him water to wash his hands, and ano:her brought him
a bunch of feathers, instead of a towel, to dry them
Then having feasted him again, after their best barbarous
manner, a long consultation was held, and the conclusion
was, two great stones were brought before Powhatan;
then as many as could lay hands on him dragged him to
them, and thereon laid his head, and being ready with
their clubs to beat out his braines, Pocahontas, the
king's dearest daughter, when no entreatie could prevayle,
got his head in her armes, and laid her own upon his to
save him from death." '

• These are Captain Smith's own words.

NOETH AMERICAN INDIANS.

163

Smith had abeady won the confiding fondness of the
Indian maiden, a girl of "tenne or twelve years old,"
who is said, not only in features and expression of
countenance, but in gentleness and humanity, to have
far exceeded the rest of the people ; and Powhatan,
unable to resist the extraordinary entreaties of his
beloved little dc;Ughter, set aside the sentence of death,
and thus was saved the life of Captain Smith, a man
who, before this romantic deliverance, was sufficiently
renowned for escapes and adventures

The old sachem now resolved to employ Smith as an
artisan, to make for him robes, shoes, bows, arrows, and
earthen pots ; and for Pocahontas, bells, beads, and
copper trinkets. But he appears soon to have changed
his mind; for according to Smith's own account, "Two
days after, Powhatan, having disguised himself in the
most fearfuUest manner he could, caused Captain Smith
to be brought forth to a great house in the woods, and
there, upon a mat by the fire, to be left alone. Not long
after, from behinde the mat that divided the house, was
made the most dolefullest noyse ever heard ; then Pow-
hatan, more like a devil than a man, with some two
hundred more, as black as himself, came unto him, and
told him, now they were friends, and presently he should
go to Jamestowne, to send him two great gunnes and a
gryndstone, for which he would give him the country of
Capahowsick, and for ever esteem him his sonne. So to
Jamestowne, with twelve guides, Powhatan sent him.
That night they quartered in the woods, he still expect-
ing (as ie had done all this longtime of his imprisonment)
every hour to be put to one death or another."

The next day they arrived at the fort at Jamestown :
here he treated his guides with the greatest kindness and
attention, and " for the sake of a little sporte," he offered
one of them a huge millstone, and two demi-culverins, or
nine-pound cannons, to take to Powhatan his master.

" They found them somewhat too heavie : but when
they did see him discharge them, being loaded with stones,
among the boughs of a great tree covered with isicles,

M 2

164

TALES OF THE

the yce and branches came so tumbling down, that the
poore salviges ran away half dead with fear. But at
last we regained some confidence with them, and gave
them such toyes, and sent to Powhatan, his women, and
children, such presents, as gave them in generall full
content."

The captivity of Smith eventually proved a great bene-
fit to the colony ; for he had not only observed with care
the country between James and Potomac rivers, but he
had gained a considerable knowledge of the language and
manners of the natives, and had now established a
friendly communication between the English and the
tribes of Powhatan. The benevolent Pocahontas, with
her youthful companions, came every few days to the
fort, with baskets of corn for the garrison, and for a little
time the atfairs of the colony seemed to promise well.

Captain Smith having told Powhatan that he expected
a great chief to come from England in a ship, bringing
many men with him, and Newport arriving with a
hundred and twenty emigrants just at the time, the
Indian chiefs admiration for the wisdom of the English
was greatly increased, and he was ready to do as they
desired in every thing; and but for the vanity and
ostentation of Newport, matters would have gone on
well. But he lavished so many present upon Powhatan,
that he was no longer inclined to trade, and soon began
to show his contempt for whatever was ottered him, and
demanded five times their value for the provisions he had
to sell.

He told Captain Newport that it was not agreeable to
his greatness to trade for trifles as his men did, and that
he esteemed him also "a great weroanee*,^' therefore if
he would lay down all his commodities, he would take
what he liked, and give in return as much as he thought
their value. Accordingly, Newport gave him all his
goods, and received in return about three bushels of
corn ; whereas they expected to have obtained thirty
hogsheads. Thus what had cost Smith so much toil and

* A great sachem or chief.

KORTH AMEBIC ATf INDIAKS.

165

pams

to achieve was thrown away by the folly of
Newport's conduct. .

Nevertheless Smith's great mind, continually exercised
in difficult matters, enabled him to bring the subtle chiet
again to his own terms, though not without many disputes ;
Powhatan endeavouring by every artifice in his power to
persuade Smith and his men to visit him unarmed, and the
other constantly refusing to comply. " Why will you not
come," said he, "in a friendly maimer, rather than with
swords and guns, as if to invade an enemy ? We wish
for peace; we know it is better to eat good meat, and
sleep quietly, and laugh and be merry with the English,
and being their friends have hatchets, and copper, and
what else we want, than fly from aU, and live upon roots
and acorns in the woods, and be so hunted that we could
neither rest nor sleep. In such case, my men must
watch, and if a twig should break, all would cry out
'Rere comes Captain Smith T and in this miserable
manner I should end my life. I therefore pray you let
us be at peace, and above all, let the guns and swords
which cause my people so much uneasiness be sent

But Smith was quite as wily as the Indian chief; and
interpreting this speech in a manner very different to the
import of the words, his former suspicions were rather
confirmed than lessened; whilst Powhatan, finding all
artifices in vain, and urged on by the importunities of
his chiefs, resolved to fall upon the Enghsh m their
cabins in the night and destroy them. But here agam
the heroic Pocahontas interfered. Alone, m the mid(Ue
of the most dismal dark night, she came through the
woods which were knee deep with snow, and boldly
insisted on seeing Captain Smith. Being admitted into
his cabin, she told him with tears in her eyes ot her
father's design against his life, and of all the mischiet
that was plotted against the English. After expressing
his gratitude to her in the warmest manner, Captam
Smith oftered to give her such articles as he thought
would please her mostj but she would accept nothmg,

166

TALES OF THE

saying that she came out of love to Captain Smith and
the English, and not for the sake of getting presents.
After fully informing Smith of the plan of attack
intended by the Indians, this noble and disinterested
girl returned alone through the woods, as she came.

Powhatan was so exasperated at the failure of his plot,
that he threatened death to his men if they did not kill
Smith in some manner or other. But fortunately for the
English, an accident happened soon after which gave him
security for the remainder of the time that he was in the
country. One of Powhatan's men having by some means
got possession of a quantity of gunpowder, pretended
that he could manage it in the same way that the
English did. Several of his companions came round him
to witness hi» exploits, when a spark falling amongst it,
it all blew up, and three or four of the unfortunate men
were killed on the spot. This struck dread into the
Indians, and so amazed and frightened Powhatan, that
his people came from all directions to desire peace.

The joy that was ft It by the Virginian colonists at the
arrival of fresh emigrants was of short duration ; for the
new comers were chiefly vagabond gentlemen and gold-
smiths, who believed that they had discovered grains of
gold in a glittering earth which abounded near James-
town, " so that there was now no talk, no hope, no work,
but dig gold, wash gold, refite gold, load gold;" and the
foolish Newport, believing himself immeasurably rich,
embarked again for England with a freight of worthless
earth.

Vexed at the folly which he had in vain opposed. Smith
left the colony, and spent about three of the summer
months in the perilous undertaking of exploring the vast
bay of the Ohesapeake, and the numerous rivers which
are its tributaries. With a few companions, in an open
boat he performed a navigation of nearly three thousand
miles. The slenderness of his means forms a strong
contrast with the utility of his discoveries ; and his name
still holds the highest rank among those dif^tinguished
men who have enlarged tlie bounds of ge0gr.«iphical

IfOBTH AMERICAIT IIfDlA:MS.

167

Ttnowledge. The majestic Potomac, which at its mouth
is seven miles broad, especially invited his curiosity ; nor
did he merely explore the rivers and creeks, tor he
penetrated into the country, and established a Inendly
feeling with the natives, which laid the foundation tor a
future beneficial intercourse. ^ i r-x

On the 10th of September, 1608, only three days alter
his return from his exploring voyage, Smith was unani-
mously chosen president of the council. By his energetic
administration, order and industry began to prevail. Six
jiours in the day were spent in work, the rest might be
given to pastime. The gentlemen had learnt the use ot
the axe, and were become accomplished woodcutters.
" He who would not work, might not eat ;" and James-
to^Ti assumed the appearance of a eivihzed place ot
abode. Unfortunately, experience had not yet taught
the company in England to send out suitable emigrants
to Virginia; and Newport now again entered the river,
with seventy more settlers (amongst whom were two
women), so ill-fitted for their new situation, that Smith
was obliged to write, " When you send again, I entreat
you rather send but thirty carpenters, husbandmen,
gardeners, fishermen, blacksmiths, masons, and diggers
up of trees' roots, well provided, than a thousand ot such

as we have." , , , . -i j ;i

The following year, Captain Smith having been dread-
fully burnt by his powder bags accidentally taking tire,
was, for want of surgical aid, obliged to leave the country
and go to England, whence he never returned.* He may
be mstly called the father of Virginia, the man who first
planted the Saxon race within the borders of the United
States. Fruitful in expedient, and prompt m execution,
he was accustomed to lead, not to send his men into
danger. He had nothing counterfeit m his nature, but

waAonest, open, and since ^ >«,tVTlffiIlt
services, he received-not ono fo.t of laud not the fields
his own hands had planted, not tbe house he himselt h^d

* He died in London in 163J, in the fifty-second year of h\9 ajte.

168

TALES OF THE

built, but— the applause of his own conscience, and of
the world.

After 8mith left the country, such was the wretched
state to which the colony of Virginia was reduced, that
scarce a parallel in history can be found. Officers spent
their time in rioting and dissipation, while the men took
no means for preservation or defcmce ; so that the
Indians plundered their domestic animals, and whatever
else liad been provided for their support, insomuch that
when Captain Smith had been gone six months, the
colony was reduced from five hundred to about sixty
person^. Herbs and roots were eat;'U to sustain life in
the early part of their distresses, but, as the famine
increased, horses were eagerly devoured ; and when this
resource failed, so feeble and dejected were the miserable
colonists, that had it not been for the unexpected arrival
of Sir Thomas Gates, tliey musl h.^ve utterly perished.

The supplies derived from the Indians, which had
always been uncertain and insufficient, were, after
Smith's depart'^re, almost entirely cut off: and in order
to extort a ransom from Powhatan, and bring him com-
pletely to their own terms, a party of English, headed by
Captain Argall, contrived to entice Pocahontas on board
his vessel, which was then lying in the river: this was
easily done ; and the next day messengers were sent to
inform Powhatan that his daughter was a prisoner, and
to demand from him the guns, tools, &c., which he and
his people from time to time had stolen.

This unexpected news threw the stern, calculating old
chief into great perplexity; and it was three months
before he returned any answer. We will not attribute
i/his to indifference, but rather suppose that he could not
believe it possible for the English to be so ungrateful as
to treat his daughter ill, after the repeated good offices
she had conferred on them, and that he therefore felt
little or no anxiety on her account.

At length, by the advice of his council, he sent back
seven gmi<^, that had been spoiled, and this answer : that
when they should return his daughter, he would make

NOETn AMERICAN INDIATfS.

169

back
that

full satisfaction, and send them five hundred bushels of
corn, but as to guns, he had no more, for the rest were
lost ! To this mebL:age the English paid no attention,
and they heard no more of him for a long time.

During the two years that Pocaiiontas lived ni cap-
tivity at Jamestown, a particular friendshii> had existed
between her and a worthy young Englishman named
John Kolfe. With sincere zeal he laboured to convert
her to Christianity ; for nmch as he loved her, he could
not think of marrying her till she had renounced the
superstitions of her tribe. Quick of apprehension, the
youthful princess received his instructions with docility ;
and in the spring of 1013, in the little church of James-
town, which was built of rough logs just as they were
hewn in the forest, " she stood before the font which had
been hollowed out of the trunk of a tree like a canoe,
and professed the laith of Jesus Christ, and was

baptized."

The baptism of Pocahontas was soon followed by her
marriage with John Eolfe ; and in April, 1613, with the
approbation of her father and friends, the ceremony was
performed according to the rites of the Church of
England, the Indian bride being given away by her
uncle Ope-can-ca-now.

The immediate consequence of this marriage was a
confirmed peace, not with Powhatan alone, but with the
powerful tribe of Chickahominies, who souglit the
friendship of the English, and desired to be called

Mngllshmen. i i. j

in 1616, Pocahontas, accompanied by her husband
and several young people of her own nation, set sail for
England. Tomocomac, one of Powhatan's counsellors,
who attended on her, was instructed by that chief to find
out Captain Smith, and make him show him the God ot
the English, and the king and queen; he also ordered
him to learn the state of the country, and the number of

people in it. i i j.- i

When he arrived at Plymouth, he toon a long stick,
and b^gan to perform this part of his mission by cutting

■

170

TALES or THE

a notch for every person he saw. But he soon gave up
that business ; and when, on his return to his own
country, his chief desired him among other things to give
an account of the number of the inhabitants of England,
his answer was as follows: — "Count the stars in the
sky, the leaves on the trees, and the sand upon the
sea-shore — for such is the number of the peonle of
England." ^ ^

Pocahontas was received with much kindness in
England, and even people of high rank paid her great
attention. She was taken to court by the Lord and
Lady de la "War, and was much astonished at the novelty
and splendour of what she saw. But nothing affected
her so much as the meetmg with Captain Smith. It
had been told her that she must not call Smith
"Father," the endearing title by which she always
addressed him in her own country ; for, owing to the
barbarous nonsense of the times, the King of England
would have thought himself offended by any person's
assuming to be the father of a king's daughter !

At their first interview, after remaining silent some
time, she said to him, " When you came a stranger to
our country, you called Powhatan father; and I, for the
same reason, will call you so now. Ton were not afraid
to come into my father's country, and strike terror into
every body but myself ; yet here you are afraid to let
me call you Father ! I tell you then, I will call you
father, and you shall call me child. After you were
gone, they always told us you were dead, and* I did not
know otherwise till I came to Plymouth : but Powhatan
commanded Tomocomac to seek you out, and learn the
truth, because your countrymen are much given to lying.''''

After remaining a year in England, Pocahontas and
her husband were about to embark at Grravesend for
her own native country ; but here this amiable " child
of the forest " fell ill, and shortly after died, to the great
grief of her husband, with whom she had lived very happily
during four years. She was twenty-two years of age,
and left one little boy, named Thom-as Eolfe. This

NOBTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

171

child was taken to London and educated by his uncle,
Mr. Henry Eolfe. He afterwards went to Virginia,
where he lived a wealthy and distinguished man. He
left one daughter, from whom were descended the
celebrated John Randolph of Roanoke, and those bearing
that name in Virginia, at this day.

j-»

172

TALES OF THB

€mx^t m)i (&mxm%

The battle of Monmouth (in New Jersey) waa fought
on the 28th June, 1778. The Americans were comman-
ded by General Washington, and the Englisii by
Sir Henry Clinton. The day was intensely hot. A
woman, named Molly Pritchard, the wife of a soldier in
the American army, who was employed in loading and
firing a cannon, occupied herself in carrying water'^from
a spring to the battery where her husband was stationed.
He was shot dead, and she saw him fall. An officer on
the spot immediately ordered another man to the gun.
But Molly Pritchard stepped up, offered her services,
and to the astonishment of the soldiers, took her
husband's place. She fought so manfully, that half pay
was granted to her for life by congress. She wore a
soldier's epaulette, and was known by the name of
" Captain Molly " ever after.

A few years after Boston and its neighbourhood were
settled by the English, a party of mrrhagansett Indians
who were out hunting, stopped at the house of
Mr. Mmot, in Dorchester, and rudely demanded food.
On being refused, they went away with evident marks
of displeasure, and Oquamehud their chief, threatened
to be revenged. Tor this |furpose, he left in the bushes
near the house, an Indian named Osamee, who had long
been known in the neighbourhood for his uncommon
ferocity.

The next morning Mr. and Mrs. Minot went to
Boston, a distance of only three miles ; the Indian saw

them from his hidinff-nlace. ariH nrfinarprl liimaalf f-

=^ fought
3ornman-
flisii b
hot.
ildier in
ling and
ber from
rationed,
fiicer on
the gnn.
services,
)ok her
h.alf [)ay
wore a
lame of

lod were
Indians
Duse of
3d food.
J marks
•eatened
; bushes
ad long
3ommon

vent to

ian saw
• f n

l^ORTU AMERICAN rNDIAT^'S.

173

as- ault on the houso, w .■ h he auppot,. d was left without
any defence. Ho ever, although Mr. Minot had no
ap])rehen8ion of an jfttack of this kind, had taken
tm- precaution to gi^ strict charge to tlic maid-Hervant
to confine hersrlf with his two little Mh' to the
house, and to pen the door to no ^^ <u. until his
return.

The girl was trusty and watchful, and she soon espied
the Indian drawing cautiously , Aards the house. After
looking about, apparently to make sure that thcio waa
nobody near, he ruslied furiously against the door, but
it was so securely bolted tlia< it withstood his force, and
}ie next attempted to get in through the window. The
youi'g woman had hidden her master's -dren uider
two brass kettles, charging them not to stir, nor make
the least noise : she then loaded a musket belonging to
the house, and bravely stood upon her defence.

The Indian, probably guessing her design, fired at her,
but he missed his mark. The girl then fired, ai d the
bullet entered his shoulder. .Still he persisted in his
attempt, and had succeeded in getting half through the
window, when, with great presence of mind, she seized
a pan full of red-hot cinders from the stove, and threw
them in his face. They lodged in his blanket, and the
pain they created was too much even for Osamee. He
fled, and his dead body was found next day in a wood on
the borders of the town.

The circumstances being made known to the govem-
i lent of Massachusetts Bay, this courageous young
woman was by their order presented with a silver
bracelet, on which her name was engraved, with this
motto, " She slew the X irrhagansett hunter."

We do not see mucii to admire in the unfeminine
conduct of " Captain Molly," and have related the story,
merely that the little readers of these tales, if such
there be, may compare her with the trustworthy servant
girl, who saved the lives of two children as well as her
own, by her presence of mind and courage. Assuredly
the silver bracelet was better deserved than the epaulette
of Molly Pritchard.

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174

TALES OP THE

But a still more honourable badge was awarded to a
Pawni brave for his courage, generosity, and humanity.

Pe-ta-la-sha-roo was the son of La-te-le-sha, or Old
Knife, a Pawni chief; Pe-ta-la-sha-roo was a brave, that
18, one who has greatly distinguished himself in battle,
and 16 next in importance to a chief. At the early age
of twenty-one, this young man had, by his heroic deeds,
acquired for himself the rank of " the bravest of the
braves."

The savage practice of torturing and burning to
death their prisoners existed in this tribe. The humane
La-te-le-sha had long endeavoured to put a stop to this
cruel custom, but in vain. In a warUke expedition
against the Iteans, a woman was taken prisoner, who on
their return was doomed to suffer according to their
barbarous usage.

The unfortunate victim was bound to the stake, and
a vast crowd was assembled on the plains to witness the
shocking scene. Pe-ta-la-sha-roo, unobserved, had sta-
tioned two fleet horses at a little distance from the spot,
and was now seated amongst the crowd, a silent
spectator. All were now anxiously waiting for the
commencement of the frightful tragedy, and the torch
was already borne towards the funeral pile, when
suddenly springing from his seat, a youthful " brave "
rushed forward, and cutting the cords asunder which
bound the captive, with the swiftness of thought he bore
her in his arms beyond the amazed multitude; then
placing her upon one horse, and mounting the other
himseJf, he bore her safely off to her liiends and
country.

This act would have endangered the life of an ordinary
chief, but such was the popularity of both father and
sou, that on the return of the "bravest of the braves"
to his village, no one presumed to censure his conduct;
and such was the influence of his good example, that
since that time no human sacrifice has ever been offered
in this, or any of the Pawni tribes.

NOETH AMERICAN llSfDIANS.

175

rded to a
imanity.
I, or Old
mve, that
in battle,
3arly age
ic deeds,
t of the

rning to
humane
•p to this
tpedition
, who on
to their

ake, and
ness the
had sta-
the spot,
a silent

for the
tie torch
?, when
' brave "
r which

he bore
e ; then
le other
ids and

ordinary
her and
braves"
onduct ;
>le, that
L offered

The account of this transaction being circulated at
"Washington, during the young chiefs stay there whilst
on a deputation from his nation to the American govern-
ment in 1821, the young ladies of Miss White's boarding
school in that city, in a manner highly creditable to
themselves, resolved to giv« him some demonstration of
the esteem in which they held him on account of his
brave and humane conduct ; they therefore presented
him with an elegant silver medal, engraved with an
appropriate inscription, and accompanied by the follow-
ing short but affectionate address.

" JBr other, — Accept this token of our esteem — always
wear it for our sakes ; and whenever again you have the
power to save a poor wom^in from death or torture —
think of this, and of us, and fly to her relief and rescue."

The Pawni's reply was as follows: —

" Sisters and Friends, — This (meaning the medal) will
give me more ease than I ever had ; and I will listen
more than ever I did to white men.

"I am glad that my brothers and sisters have heard
of the good act that I have done. My brothers and
sisters think that I did it in ignorance, but I now know
what I have done. I did it in ignorance, and did not know
that it was good ; but by giving me this medal I know it."

There is much pleasure in meeting with such instances
of heroic conduct amcmg the untaught savages of the
"West, and as it has often been our lot to recount the
deeds of violence which are committed by the red men,
it would be most unjust to suppress any traits of an
opposite nature.

The Sioux are one of the most warlike and independent
nations of Indians within the boundaries of the United
States, and with them every passion seems subservient
to that of war. They had long been at variance with
the Sauteurs, or Tall Indians*, as they are also called,
from their lands being near the Ealls of St. Mary.

* The St. Mary is a Strait, or river, about eighty miles long, which connects
Lake Superior with Lake Huron. Near the head of this lake is the fall, or Sault
de Ste. Marie, where the river descends about twenty-three feet in half a mile.
Canoes, and even barges, are towed up these rapids.

176

TALES OP THE

Cha-ta-wa-con-a-mee, chief of a small band of Sioux
situated on the banks of the Mississippi, going out one
morning at sunrise to examine his beaver trap, descried a
Sauteur in the act of stealing it. He approached so
silently that he was not perceived, and while the Sauteup
was engaged in taking the trap from the water, he stood
deliberately surveying him with a loaded rifle in his
hand.

As the two nations were at war, and as the offence was
in itself considered of the most heinous nature, he would
have been thought perfectly justified in killing him on
the spot; and the thief, on finding himself detected,
looked for nothing else than immediate death.

But the Sioux chief, with a nobleness of disposition
which would have done honour to the most enlightened
men, calmly walked up to him, and thus addressed the
astonished Sauteur : — " Be not alarmed at my approach ;
I only come to present you with the trap of which I see
you stand in need. You are entirely welcome to it.
Take my rifle also, for I see you are poor and have none
of your own ; and now depart with it to the land of your
countrymen, and linger not here, lest some of my
young men who are panting for the blood of their
enemies, should discover your footsteps in our hunting
grounds, and should fall upon you and kill you."

So saying, he delivered his rifle into the hands of the
poor Sauteur, and returned unarmed to the village of
which h& wa» so deservedly the chief..

NORTH AMEEICAN INDIANS.

177

f Sioux
)ut one
scried a
bed so
:5aiiteup
le stood
in his

%\t Rifleman 0f C^ippetoa.

ace was
3 would
him on
etected,

position
^htened
3ed the
proach ;
3h I see
d to it.
'^e none
of your
of my
•f their
lunting

} of the
llage of

The Chippewas are a numerous people inhabiting the
country north of Lake Superior, and about the sources
of the Mississippi. They are divided into several tribes,
and are distinguished by the number of blue or black
lines tattooed on their cheeks and foreheads.

Travellers have always described them as " the most
peaceable tribes of Indians known in North America."
They are not remarkable for their activity as hunters,
and this no doubt is o , ag to the ease with which they can
procure both game and fish.

In their pursuit of deer, they sometimes drive them
into the small lakes and then spear them from their
canoes: or shoot them with the bow and arrow, after
having driven them into enclosures constructed for the
purpose. Snares made of deer sinews too, are frequentlv
used for catching both large and small game: and as
these occupations are not beyond the strength of the old
men and boys, they take a share in these toils, which
amongst most of the tribes are left exclusively to the
squaws.

In person, the Chippewas are not remarkable ; they are
generally robust, their complexion swarthy, their features
broad, and their hair straight and black, which is the
case in most of the Indian tribes. But they have not
that piercing eye, which so generally animates the
Indian countenance.

The aspect of the women is more agreeable than that
of the men ; they wear their hair a great length, and pav
much attention to its arrangement, greazing it witk
bear's oil, and plaiting it with considerable taste.

♦

178

TALES OF TUB

They appear to be- more attentive to the comforts of
dress, and less anxious about its exterior, than some of
their red brethren. Deer and fawn skins, dressed with
the hair on so skilfully, that they are perfectly supnlft;
compose their shirt or coat, which is girt round the waist
with a belt, and reaches half way down the thigh.
Their moccasins and leggins are generally sewn together,
and the latter meet the belt to which they are fastened.
A ruff or tippet surrounds the neck, and the skin of the
deer's head is formed into a curious sort of cap.

A robe made of several deer skins sewn together is
thrown over the whole; this dress is sometimes worn
single, but in winter it is always made double, the hair
forming both the lining and the outside.

Thus attired, a Chippewa will lay himself down on
the snow and repose in comfort, and if in his wanderings
across the numerous lakes with which his country
abounds, he should fall short of provision, he has only to
cut a hole in the ice, when he seldom fails of taking a
black-fish, or a bass, which he broils over his little wood
fire with as much skill as a French cook.

At the time of the French and Indian wars the
American army was encamped on the Plains of Chippewa.
Colonel St. Clair, the commander, was a brave and meri-
torious officer, but his bravery sometimes amounted to
rashness, and his *^.nemies have accused him of indiscre-
tion. In the present instance perhaps he may have
merited the accusation, for th, ^lain on which he had
neamped was bordered by a dense forest, from which

the Indian scouts could easily pick ofi" his sentinels
without in the least exposing themselves to danger.

Five nights had passed, and every night the sentinel
who stood at a lonely out-post in the vicinity of the
forest had been shot ; and these repeated disasters struck
such dread amongst the remaining soldiers, that no one
would come, forward to offer to take the post, and the
commander, knowing it was only throwing away men's
lives, let it stand for a few nights unoccupied.

At length a rifleman of the Virginian corps volunteered

-■)

KOBTH AMEEICAN INDIANS.

179

his services for this dangerous duty ; he laughed at the
fears of his companions, and told them he meant to
return safe and drink his commander's health in the
morning. Tlie guard marched up soon after, and he
shouldered his rifle and fell in. He arrived at the plaeo
which had been so fatal to his comrades, and bidding his
fellow soldiers ' good night,' assumed the duties of his
post. The night was dark, thick clouds overspread the
firmament, and hardly a star could be yeen by the senti-
nel as he paced his lonely walk. All was silent except
the gradually retreating footseps of the guard: he
marched onwards, then stopped and listened till he
thought he heard the joyful sound of ' all's well'— then
all was still, and he sat 'down on a fallen tree and began
to muse. Presently a low rustling among the bushes
caught his ear; he gazed intently towards the spot
whence the sound seemed to proceed, but he could see
nothing save the impenetrable gloom of the forest. The
sound drew nearer, and a well-known grunt informed
him of the approach of a bear. The animal passed the
soldier slowly, and then quietly sought the thicket to the
left. At this moment the' moon shone out bright
through the parting clouds, and the wary soldier per-
ceived the ornamented moccasin of a savage on what an
instant before he believed to be a bear ! He could have
shot him in a moment, but he knew not how many other
such animals might be at hand : he therefore refrumed,
and having perfect knowledge of Indian subtilty, he
quickly took ofl:* his hat and coat, hung them on a branch
of the fallen tree, grasped his rifle, and silently crept
towards the thicket. He had barely reached it, when
an arrow, whizzing past his head, told him of the danger
he had so narrowly escaped.

He looked carefully round him, and on a little spot of
cleared land he counted twelve Indians, some sitting,
some lying full length on the thickly strewn leaves of
the forest. Believing that they had already shot the
sentinel, and little thinking there was any one within
hearing, they were quite off their guard, and conversed
aloud about their plans f^r the morrow. ir 2

180

TALES Of THE

It appeared that a council of twelve chiefs was now
held, in which they gra\ely deliberated on the most
effectual means of annoying the enemy. It was decided
that the next evening forty of their warriors should be
in readiness at the hour when the sentinel should be left
by his comrades, and that when they had retired a few
paces, an arrow should silence him for ever, and they
would then rush on and massacre the guard.

This being concluded, they rose, and drawing the
numerous folds of their ample robes closer round them,
they marched off in Indian* file through the gloomy
forest, seeking some more distant spot, where the smoke
of their nightly fire would not be observed by the white
men.

The sentinel rose from his hiding-place and returned
to his post, and taking down his hat, found that an
arrow had passed clean through it. He then wrapt
himself in his watch-coat, and returned immediately to
the camp ; and without any delay demanded to speak to
the commander, saying that he had something important
to communicate.

He was admitted, and when he had told all that he
had seen and heard, the Colonel bestowed on hiiri
the commission of lieutenant of the Virginia corps,
which had been made vacant by the death of one of his
unfortunate comrades a few nights back, and ordered
him to be ready with a piquet guard, to march an hour
earlier than usual to the fatal out-post, there to place a
hat and coat on the branches, and then lie in ambush for
the intruders.

The following evening, according to the orders given
by Colonel St. Clair, a detachment of forty riflemen,
with Lieutenant Morgan at their head, marched from
the camp at half-past seven in the evening towards the
appointed spot, and having arranged the hat and coat so
as to have the appearance of a soldier standing on guard,

• One behind the other, and every man in snccesslon setting his foot exactif in
the track of the leader, so that whether there are fifty men, or only one, cannot be
discovered by their footsteps.

NOETn AMEBICAN INDIANS.

181

ras now
le moHt
decided
ould be
I be left
d a few
ad they

ing the
d them,
gloomy
3 smoke
e white

etumed
that an
1 wrapt
itely to
peak to
iportant

that he
on him
L corps,
3 of his
ordered
an hour
place a
)U8h for

8 given
iflemen,
3d from
-rds the
coat so
1 guard,

they stole silently away and hid themselves among the
bushes.

Here they lay for almost an hour before any signs of
approaching Indians were heard. The night was cold
and still, and the rising moon shone forth in all her
beauty. The men were becoming impatient of their
uncomfortable situation, for their clothes were not so
well adapted to a bed of snow as the deer-skin robes of
the hardy Cliippewas.

"Silence!" whispered Lieutenant Morgan — "I hear
the rustling of the leaves."

Presently a bear of the same description as had been
seen the night before, passed near the ambush ; it crept
to the edge of the plain— reconnoitred— saw the sentinel
at his post— retired towards the forest a few paces, and
then, suddenly rising on his feet, let fly an arrow which
brought the sham sentinel to the ground. So impatient
were the Virginians to avenge the death of their comrades,
that they could scarcely wait till the lieutenant gave the
word of command to fire— then they rose in a body, and
before the Chippewas had time to draw their arrows or
seize their tomahawks, more than half their number lay
dead upon the plain. The rest fled to the forest, but
the riflemen fired again, and killed or wounded several
more of the enemy. They then returned in triumph to
relate their exploits in the camp.

Ten chiefs fell that night, and their fall was undoubt-
edly one principal cause of the French and Indian wars
with the English.

Lieutenant Morgan rose to be a captain, and at the
termination of the war returned home, and lived on his
own farm till the breaking out of the American war.
And then, at the head of a corps of Virginia riflemen
appeared our hero, the brave and gallant Colonel Mor-
gan.

t exactly in
> cannot be

182

TALES OF THE

The continent of North America was first discovered,
June 24th, 1497, by John Cabot, a Venetian merchant
who resided at Bristol, and his son Sebastian, who was a
native of that town. They were bold, enterprising, and
successful men, and their achievements in the new world
were second only to those of Columbus.

In April 1614, Captain John Smith, who had already
acquired so much distinction in Virginia, obtained per-
mission from James I. to explore the coast and country
north of the lands granted by the Virginia patent. The
expedition, which was a private adventure of four London
merchants and himself, was very successful. Whilst the
sailors were busy fishing, Captain Smith examined the
shores from Penobscot to Cape Cod, prepared a map of
the coast, and named the country New England.

On Saturday, the 11th of November 1620, a party of
English men and women, called Puritans, landed on the
bleak and barren shores of Cape Cod. The very day that
they landed an armed party was sent to make discove-
ries. They returned at night, having found nothing but
woods, water, and dreary rocks. The next day was the
Sabbath, and they all rested. , .

They were one hundred persons in number, consisting
of nineteen families. Wearied and suffering from a
rough passage of two months, badly supplied with pro-
visions, these English fugitives now found themselves, at
the beginning of winter, on the rocky coast, in a severe
climate, with the ocean on one side and the wilderness
on the other. There was no one to bid them welcome—

•NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

|S8

^nrls

covered,
lerchant
lo was a
ing, and
!W world

[ already
ned per-
country
It. The
• London
hilst the
ined the
I map of

party of
d on the
day that

discove-
ihing but

was the

tonsisting
; from a
jvith pro-
selves, at
; a severe
rilderness
elcome —

no honne, not even a shed to shelter them — winter was
fast approaching, and the spot for their settlement was
not yet chosen. When the boat was unshipped, it was
found that it needed repairs, and sixteen or seventeen
days elapsed before the carpenter had made it ready for
service. At length John Carver, who had been unani-
mously chosen their governor for the year, accompanied
by some others and (iight or ten seamen, coasted along
the bay in hopes of finding some inviting spot for a
settlement. The cold was severe, it snowed all day and
night, and the spray of the sea froze as it fell on them,
and made their clothes as stiif as armour. On the (>th
of December they landed, and tired themselves with
marching up and down the steep hills and deep vallies,
which lay covered half a foot thick with snow. A heap
of maize was found, and further search led to a burial
place of the Indians ; but they found no more corn, nor
any thing else but graves. ()n the following morning,
when the company had divided, one of the party found a
burial place, graves, and four or five deserted wigwams,
but no people.

The next day, just as their morning prayers were
finished, and as the day dawned, a war-whoop and a
flight of arrows announced the neighbourhood of Indians.
They were of the Nashua tribe, who knew the English
only as kidnappers ; for after Captain Smith had depar-
ted for England, Thomas Hunt, one of the four London
merchants already mentioned, w^ho was master of the
second ship, kidnapped a party of Indians, and sailing
fo.' Spain, sold the poor creatures into slavery in thai
couitry.

!Nv^thing serious resulted from this encounter; the
boat's crew gave thanks to God, and again steered their
bark along the coast. The pilot, who knew something
of these regions, having been of Smith's party six years
before, assured them that there was a good harbour
about fifteen leagues distant, which they might reach
before night, and they followed his guidance ; but after
fiome hours' sailing, a storm of snow and wind arose ;

N 4

184

TALES OF THE

tht! sea was heavy, and the rudder broke, so that they
were obliged to steer with oara ; the storm increased in
violence and night was at hand; in order to reach the
harbour before dark, as much sail as possible was set,
when in a few minutes the mast was broken into three
pieces and the sails fell overboard, but fortunately the
tide was favourable. The pilot, in dismay, would have
run the boat on shore, in a cove full of breakers. |' About
with her," cried a sailor, "or we are cast away." The^
put her about innnediately, and passing over the surl,
they entered a fair sound, and sheltered themselves under
the lee of the rising land. It was dark and the rain
beat furiously; the men were wet, cold, and weary;
yet, regardless of the danger to be appreher ^ed from the
savages, they went on shore, and with great difficulty
succeeded in kindling a fire.

When morning broke they found themselves on a
small island in the entrance oi' a harbour. The weather
still continued stormy, and the men required rest after
the fatigue they had endured the foregoing day. But
time was precious, the winter season was advancing, and
their companions were left in suspense. The next day
was the Christian Sabbath, and nothing marks the
character of the Pilgrims more fully, than that they
kept it sacredly, though every consideration demanded

On Monday, the 11th day of December, the little
exploring party of the forefathers landed at Plymouth ;
for so was the first New England colony named, in
memory of the hospitality which the company had
received at the last English port from which they sailed.
In a few days the Mayflower, with the rest of the
party was safely moored in Plymouth harbour. They
now' began to build ; but who can describe the difficulties
that surrounded these conscientious men? Intense
cold, miserable diet, and want of shelter had already
caused fevers and consumption. The living were hardly
able to bury the dead, and not till summer advanced did
the mortality cease.

■9?

NORTH AMEBIC Alf INDIANS.

185

t they
ised in
,ch tlio
as set,
) three
Ay the
d have
About
They
le Burf,
B under
tie rain
weary ;
•om the
ilficulty

s on a
rtreather
9t after
. But
ng, and
ext day
?ks the
at they
manded

16 little
'^mouth ;
med, in
,ny had
■f sailed.
; of the
. They
BRculties
Intense
already
3 hardly
iced did

When sickness no lon*,'er atflictod them, they still had
great privations to endure. In the autumn the arrival
of new emigrants, who came almost unprovided with
food, compelled the whole colony to subsist on halt
allowance only. Nor did their miseries soon terminate ;
for it was not till after the harvest of the third year
that there was no general want, and cattle were not
introduced into New England until the fourth year ot
its colonization. Yet, during all this season ot selt-
denial and suffering, the cheerful confidence of the
Pilgrims in the mercy of Providence remained unshaken.
New accessions of colonists continued to arrive yearly,
and Weymouth, Salem, Charlestown, Boston, and many
other places which are now flourishing towns, were then
marked out by a few rude and comfortless d ^veilings. ^

After the iHymouth colonists had been long enough in
their new home to learn the state of the neighbouring
country, they found that it had been absolutely depopu-
lated for a considerable euent, by an epidemic
disease. This event was so far favourable to the new
comers as it opened to them a place for settle-
ment, not only without any jealousy, but even with
the good wishes of their Indian neighbours. The name
of the tribe that had been destroyed was the Wampanoags,
and Massasoit was their sachem, or chief. By a singular
accident this man had already acquired some knowledge
of the English language from one of his own people,
named Squanto, who with some others had been carried
otf, and sold to the Spaniards by Hunt, but afterwards
conveyed to London, and " dwelt on Cornhill with one
Master John Slaine, a merchant." Prom London he
returned in an emigrant ship to America, and now
proved himself a most useful person as interpreter
between his own countrymen and the English.

As long as Massasoit lived he was friendly to the
English, notwithstanding they committed repeated en-
croachments on his lands; for although it would be
impossible for any set of people to be more just, honest,
and upright than the first colonists in New England, yet

186

TALES or THE

in the coiirse of time there were many amongst them of
a very different character. Many worthless adventurers,
tempted by the great profits made on the valuable skins
which were supplied by the Indiana in exchange for
knives, muskets, or blankets, were now to be found in
every infant settlement. These men would not work,
and as they could only dispose of their rich furs by
sending them to Europe, they had a long time to wait
before they could receive payment for them. In the
mean while, many of them tell into the most miserable
and wretched condition, and some, to procure their daily
food, became servants to the Indians : others abandoned
themselves to riot and dissipation, and their conduct
affected the well-being of the who! a community. Some
did not scruple to cheat and deceive the Indians
whenever it lay in their power, and great offence had
been frequently g:ven by the white men's disturbing the
tombs of their ancestors. This in the first instance, was
done out of curiosity, and afterwards from mere wanton
disregard to the feelings of those poor savages, whose
veneration for the dead was mixed with many supersti-
tions. They believed, amongst other absurdities, that if
a grave were rudely disturbed, the spirit of its inhabitant
would return from the pleasant hunting grounds of
Indian paradise, and cry on earth for revenge.

Thomas Morton, in his book called " New English
Canaan,"* relates the following incident in these words: —
" In the first settling of Plymouth some of the company,
in wandering about upon discovery, came to an Indian
grave, which w«,s that of the mother of Chicataubut.
Over the body a stake was set in the ground, and two
bear-skins, sewed tc^ether, spread over it; these the
English took away. When this came to the knowledge
of Chicataubut, who was a chief, or in their language, a
sachem of the Massachusett Indians, he complained to his
people, and demanded immediate vengeance. When they
were assembled round him, he thus harangued them:
'* When last the crlorious lieht of all the skv was

* Published at Amsterdam in 1637.

•

NOETH AMEBICAN INDIANS.

187

them of
nturers,
le skins
iige for
aund in
tt work,
furs by
to wait
In the
liaerable
;ir daily
mdoned
conduct
Some
Indians
nee had
)ing the
ace, was
wanton
I, whose
lupersti-
, that if
habitant
unds of

English
vords: —
ompany,
L Indian
ataubut.
and two
leae the
Lowledge
guage,a
ed to his
len they
1 them:
)kv was

underaeath this globe, and the birds were silent on the
dark brahches of the forest, I lay down, as my custom is,
to take my repose. But before mine eyes were fast
closed in sleep, methought I saw a vision, at which my
spirit was much troubled, for I knew it was the form of
my aged mother. She stood before me, and in a doleful
voice demanded, ' Have I not fed thee, did I not cherish
thee and keep thee warm whilst thou wert yet too young
to take thouglit for thyself ; and canst thou now forget to
take revenge on those wild people who have dishonoured
my grt^ve ? Thy mother doth complain, and implores thy
aid against this thievish people who are newly come
hither, for if this be suffered, I shall not rest in hap-
piness within the everlasting habitations.' "

In consequence of this the English were watched and
followed about from place to place, till on some favourable
occasion, the Indians fell upon them and wounded several
of their ^larty. This of course was retaliated, and the
flames of war once lighted were never again totally
extinguished.

It does not come within our limits to relate all the
various causes of the enmity which in time grew up
between the original possessors and the white usurpers of
the American soil. If on one hand it is allowed that
some of the most virtuous and exemplary men voluntarily
abandoned all the comforts of home, and spent their
lives among the Indians whom they earnestly endeavoured
to instruct in the Christian faith ; on the other, it must
be confessed that the poor Indians in their intercourse
with Europeans had daily proofs of their falseness, their
dishonesty, and even of their cruelty.

Forty years after the "Mayflower" had landed the
Pilgrim Fathers on the rocky shores of Massachusetts,
towns had sprung up in various parts of the neighbouring
states of Connecticut and Ehode Island. No township
was without its stockade, or fortified house, into which
the inhabitants retreated in case of any serious attack of
the Indians; for after the first hostilities commenced,
the colonists were kept in almost perpetual terror and

188

TALES OF THE

alarm. The first annunciation of an Indian war is its
actual commencement. In the hour of security and sleep,
when your enemies are supposed to be friends, quietly
employed in hunting or fishing, when they are believed
to be at the distance of several hundred miles, and
perfectly thoughtless of you and yours ; when thus
unsuspecting, thus at ease, slumbering on your pillow,
your sleep is broken by the sound of the war-whoop ;
your house and village are set on fire ; your family and
friends are murdered, or hurried into captivity to undergo
more protracted misery.

With these enemies the colonists had to contend from
the year 1675, when the first general war, called Philip^ s
War, commenced, to the year 1783. Within this period
there were other wars also, some excited by Philip (who
was the younger son of Massasoit, and sachem in his
stead) and others, stimulated by the Trench colonists, in
which tribes of Indians fought somotimes with, and
somes against the English. The war, on the part of the
Indians, was one of ambushes and surprises ; they seldom
met the enemy in open field, but always, even if tenfold
in number, fled timorously before infantry. But they
were as wary as beasts of prey, skilful marksmen, and in
part provided with fire-arms, fleet of foot, conversant with
all the paths of the forest, patient of fatigue, .^nd mad
with a passion for vengeance and destruction ; retreating
into swamps and fastnesses, or hiding in the green-wood
thickets, where the leaves obstructed the view of their
pursuers. By the rapidity of their motions they seemed
omnipresent among the scattered villages, which they
scathed like a passing storm. In short, from the
beginning of Philip's war until the year 1783, a period of
more than a hundred years, there never was an hour in
which the inhabitants of the frontier settlements could
travel in the forest, work in their fields, or lie down in
their beds, without some danger of the tomahawk or the
scalping knife.

To revenge the wrongs done to their own people, who
had been either detained prisoners, or sold into slavery

NOETH AMERICAN INDIANS.

189

in Europe ; or for the sake of the liberal ransom they
hoped to gain from the friends of their captives, the
Indians frequently carried away men, women, and
children through the pathless forest, some hundreds of
miles from their homes. Of these unfortunate people,
some were killed by the stroke of the tomahawk ; some
were tortured in a manner too horrible to relate ; and
some died from starvation, cold, fatigue, and anguish of
mind: whilst others, more fortunate, having been sup-
ported through their trials by a firm reliance on
Providence, and an unconquerable spirit, lived to return
in safety to their families, and give an account of their
adventures and sufferings.

The town of Lancaster in Massachusetts, which stands
upon the Nashua river, amongst the most beautiful hills
and valleys, was incorporated by an act of legislature in
1653. For the first twenty-two years the inhabitants
lived in peace and safety ; but in 1676, Pometacom, or, as
the English called him, King Philip,* engaged the Nashua
Indians in his scheme of extirpating the English, and on
the 10th of February of that year he marched against
Lancaster with about fifteen hundred Indians of diflerent
tribes. At that time there were in the town about sixty
families. The savages burnt most of the houses, and
amongst them, several that were garrisoned.

One of these was the house of the Eev. Mr. Rowland-
son, the minister, who was absent. Forty-two persons
had sought shelter under its roof, and for two hours they
defended themselves against the furious assault of the
enemy ; but at length the Indians succeeded in setting
the house on fire ; twelve of its inmates they killed, and
the rest, along with some other inhabitants of the town,
making in all, forty men, women, and children, they took
prisoners. The men they killed, but the women and
children they spared, hoping to obtain a ransom for them.

Amongst the captives were Mrs. Rowlandson, her
children, and her sister, who also had her children

• Washington Irving In his " Sketch Book," gives some account of " Philip

•

190

TALES OF THE

with her. In relating the frightful events of the day
Mrs. Rowlandson wrote thus : — " It was the dolefuUest
day that ever mine eyes saw. Some in our house were
fighting for their lives ; others were covered with blood ;
the house was on fire over our heads, and the cruel
heathen were standing ready to kill us if we stirred out.
I took my children to go forth, but the Indians shot so
thick, that the bullets rattled against the house."

The bullets flying thick, one went through the hand
and body of the poor infant that she carried in her arms.
The slain were stript of their clothes, and left naked in
the streets ; and the work of destruction being completed,
the Indians retired to a hill in the neighbourhood of the
town, where they held a great feast in consequence of
their victory, triumphing with all the excess of savage
exultation.

The next day they began their march, taking with
them their prisoners and their spoil. Mrs. Eowlandson,
though wounded, was obliged to walk and carry her poor
child who was still more severely wounded than herself.
At length, when she fell from complete exhaustion, she
was permitted to ride, but there was no saddle on the
horse, and she soon fell from its back. On the approach
of night a snow-storm set in, and as she had no covering
for herself or children except the clothes they usually
wore in the house, they must have perished, had she not
been allowed to make a fire. The Indians enccmiped for
the night ; and Mrs. Eowlandson gathered a few sticks,
kindled a fire, and sat by it, with one babe on her lap,
and the other little ones around her, till the next
morning, when her children were taken from her, as she
then believed to be killed. But her own words are
best : —

" There remained nothing to me but one poor wounded
babe. Down I must sit in the snow, with my sick child,
the picture of death, in my lap. Not a crumb of
refreshing came within our mouths from "Wednesday
night till Saturday night, except only a little cold'
water One Indian, and then a second, and then

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

191

a third would come and tell me, 'Your master will
quickly knock your child on the head: This was the
comlort I had from them : miserable comforters were
they all.

For nine days Mrs. Eowlandson held her suffering
child m her arms, or in her lap, and during this time it
had received nothing but cold water : at the close of the
ninth day, death put an end to its sufferings, and it was
buried by the Indians.

tJntil this time she had been the property of the
Indian who had seized her when she came out of the
garrison at Lancaster ; but he now sold her to Quinnopin
a noble Narrhagansett, and one of the chiefs who under
King Philip had directed the attack on the town

This chief had three wives, one of whom, named

Weetamoo, was sister to King Philip's wife. With this

woman poor Mrs. Eowlandson was now doomed to live

as a slave, and the following is the description she gives

Indi "" •— ^ iiarrative of her adventures among the

"A severe and proud dame she was, bestowing every
day m dressing herself as much time as any of thi
gentry of the land-powdering her hair, and painting
her lace going with her necklaces, and with iewels in he?
ears, and bracelets upon he hands. Then when she had
dressed herself, her work was to make girdles of wam-
pum with beads."

During the time that Mrs. Eowlandson lived with
this proud dame,'' a party of the Indians went upon
some warlike expedition against the settlers, and on
their return one of them gave her a Bible which had
been taken amongst the plunder. This she says was
her greatest consolation and support during her captivity

Ihe Indians havmg been informed that a strong body
ot linghsh was m pursuit of them, decamped suddenly
and marched with the greatest eiped#ion into the
county of li;;. -.pshire, and thence to the Connecticut

192

TALES OF THE

During this part of her pilgrimage, Mrs. Eowlandson
went through almost every sufiering except death.
She was heaten, kicked, insulted, and almost starved.
Nothing short of experience can enable us to conceive
what must be the hunger of a person, by whom the
discovery of six acorns and two chestnuts, was considered

a rich prize.

To aggravate her distress, the Indians would some-
times tell her that her husband and children were dead,
and it was riot until the time of her release, that she
was assured of their being in existence.

On crossing the Connecticut river they found Kmg
Philip, and this sachem treated her with much civility,
inviting her to his roval wigwam, and offering her all the
kindness in his power. There was indeed amongst the
savages a great difference of character ; and although she
had experienced such wanton barbarity from some,
there were others, both men and women, who had
uniformly treated her with humanity.

Such was Philip of Pokanoket ; and doubtless his
example had considerable weight with the other Indians,
for none durst offer her any violence in his presence ; and
some writers of that period say that " she behaved her-
self amongst them with so much courage and dignity,
that after she had been with them a few weeks they, in
their rude manner, showed her great respect."

Grreat interest was felt in behalf of the unfortunate
captives, and many overtures were made to the Indians
for their release ; but for a long while they held back,
and refused to take any ransom, thinking probably, that
if they waited long enough, they might make their own

terms

The governor of Boston sent to demand the price of
every prisoner, either in goods, wampum, or money, and
promised that all reasonable demands should be paid.
After twelve d|ys the messenger returned^ bringing back
the following curious letter, which is still in existence : —

" Mr. Eowlandson, your wife and all your child is well,
hut 07ifi dye. xbur sisler is wed anu her three Cntuv. M.r.

wlandson
it death.

starved.

conceive
r^hom the
oiisidered

lid some-

lere dea-d,

that she

md King
bi civility,
ler all the
oiigst the
bough she
)m some,
who had

btless his
r Indians,
3nce ; and
laved her-
d dignity,
Ls they, in

nfortunate
le Indians
beld back,
3ably, that
their ovv^n

e price of
noney, and
i be paid,
iging back
istence : —
lild is well,
hild. Mr.

NOBTH AMEBICAH INDIANS.

193

Kittell, your wife and all your child is well ; and all them
prisoners taken at Nashua is all well. This writing by
your enemies, TJskattugun and Gunrashit, two Saga-

When this letter was taken to Boston, Mr. Leverett,
the governor, immediately despatched the messengers
again to the sachems, and desired them to give a plain
and direct answer to his first demand. " When this letter
was come," says Mrs. Rowlandson, "the chiefs met to
consult about the captives, and called me to them, to
inquire how much my husband would give to redeem me.
When I came and sat down among them, as I was wont
to do, then they bid me stand up, and said they were the
general court. They bid me speak what I thought he
would give. Now knowing that all we had was destroy-
ed by the Indians, I was in a great strait ; but I ventured
however to say twenty pounds, and Tom and Peter, the
Indian messengers, bore the offer to Boston."

The negotiation ended by the sachems' desiring that
Mr. Rowlandson, and good man Kettel should send for
their wives and children, promising they should return
home in safety. The anxiety with which Mrs. Rowland-
son expected the arrival of the convoy that was to take
her back to her husband and friends may easily be
imagined : but before that happy time came she met
with another disappointment, which she thus describes : —

"About two days after the departure of the Indian
messengers to Boston, came a company of Indians to us,
nearly thirty, all on horseback. My heart skipt within
me, thinking they had been Englishmen, at the first
sight of them : for they were dressed in English apparel,
with hats, white neckcloths, and sashes about their
waists, and ribbons upon their shoulders. But when
they came near, there was a vast difference between the
lovely faces of Christians, and the foul looks of those
heathen, which much damped my spirits again." The
regimentals in which these men were dressed were taken
from the English soldiers whorri they had slain. At
length, * On a Sabbath-day, the sun being about an houi:

194

TALES OF THE

high in the afternoon, came Mr. Hoare, (the council
permitting him, and his own forward spirit inclining
him,) together with the fore-mentioned Indians, Tom
and Peter. When they came near I was abroad, but they
presently called me in, and bid me sit down, and not stir.
Then they catched up their guns, and ran as if an enemy
had been at hand, and the guns went off apace. I
manifested great trouble, and told them I thought they
had killed an Englishman (for they had in the mean time
told me that an Englishman was come) ; they said, ' M ;
they shot over his horse, and under, mid lefore his horse,
and pushed him this way and that at their pleasure,

SHOWIN& HIM \VHAT THEY COULD DO.' "

This w as a short time after a victory had been gained
by the Indians over the white people ; and whenMr. Hoare
arrived at King Philip's quarters for the redemption of Mrs.
Kowlandson, he found them preparing to commemorate
their success by a great dance, which, as Mrs. Kowlandson
relates, " was carried on by eight of them, four men and
four squaws, my master and mistress, Quinnopin and
Weetamo, being two of the party. He was dressed in
his hoUand shirt, with great stockings, his garters hung
round with shillings, and he had girdles of wampum upon
his head and shoulders. She had a kersey coat, almost
covered with wampum. Her arms, from her elbows to
her hands, were covered with bracelets : there were
handfuls of necklaces about her neck, and several sorts of
jewels in her ears. She had fine red stockings and white
shoes ; her hair was powdered, and her face painted red,
that was always before black, and all the dancers
were after the same manner. There were two others
singing and knocking on a kettle for music.

" At night I asked them again if I should go home ;
they all said, ' No, unless my husband came for me.' "

The next day the chiefs held a council or general court,
at which the giving up Mrs. Eowlandson was debated.
AU seemed to consent to her departure, and even those

They shook her by the hand, and asked her to send them
some tobacco, and other things which they valued.

NOETH AMERICAN INDIANS.

195

council
aclining
18, Tom
but they
not stir.
a enemy
pace. I
;ht they
3an time
id, ' No ;
is horse,
^pleasure,

I gained
r. Hoare
n of Mrs.
lemorate
A'landson
men and
3pin and
[•essed in
srs hung
»um upon
Lt, almost
Ibows to
ere were

II sorts of
md white
inted red,

I dancers
ro others

yo home;
le: "

?ral court,
debated,
ven those
liced at it.
send them
Led.

Mrs. Eowlandson's captivity and sufferings terminated
on the 3rd of May, 1676, three months after she had
been earned away from her home. At her return she
lound her husband well, and heard the joyful intelligence
that her children and her sister's son were also redeemed.
Ihe kindness which this family now received from their
countrymen was such as Christians would always show
to their fellow-Christians in such an extreme case.

These truly were times of danger and suffering; but
there existed a spirit of endurance amongst the early
Jiritish settlers in America, which rendered them equal
to the severe trials through which they had to pass, and
none manifested a greater degree of patience and fortitude
than the women of those times.

Six weeks after Mr. Eowlandson's and other families
were carried away, another warlike incursion was made
into Lancaster by the Indians, but fortunately the
inhabitants had timely intimation of their design, and
not being able to fortify themselves against so powerful
an enemy, they all fled from the town.

The Indians entered and burnt every house excepting
two to the ground, and it was not until the year 1680
that the place was rebuilt and again inhabited. The
blessings of peace however were enjoyed only twelve
years, for in 1692 the savages renewed their assaults
upon this unfortunate town. In this and the five suc-
ceeding years the inhabitants were constantly harassed
by the incursions of the Indians: many of them were
killed, and their church was burnt down.

In 1704 Mr. Sawyer and his whole family, except his
youngest son, were taken prisoners and carried away into
Canada. The chiefs held a great council, and it was
determined that their captives should be burnt to death.

Ihe dreadful preparations were instantly made, the
unfortunate victims were bound to the stakes, and faggots
ot pme branches heaped in readiness to blaze around
them ; when a French priest, suddenly coming up, held
:'•"' ^^ "*^6^ ^vj, ai^u jjiuuiiiimud in a loud voice that this
key would unlock the gate of purgatory, and that unless

196

THB WOBXn AMEBICAN INDIANS.

•

they instantly released their prisoners, he would' open
that terrible place and consign the whole of their tribe to
its torments !

Terrieed by this awful denunciation, the Indians gave
up their prisoners and allowed them to return in safety
to New England: it cannot therefore be denied that the
belief m purgatory has, in one instance, been beneficial
to men !

Such were the adventures and difficulties of the early
settlers in North America. If these imperfect descrip-
tions of them have afforded any amusement to my
youthful readers, I shall be well satisfied ; and if I have
reason to believe that they wish for more information on
the subject, I shall endeavour, to the best of ^y ability
to supply it. ''

TUM BND.

JARROLD AND SONS, PRINTERS, NORWICH.

)uld» open
ir tribe to

ians gave
in safety
1 that the
beneficial

the earljr
'> descrip-
it to my
if I have
nation on
Y ability,