After the beautiful maidens had laughed, and chattered, and questioned, as much as they would, they left the Nanticoke to enjoy his slumbers. The silent maiden retired last, and the look which she gave him, as she left the little chamber, did not quit his soul till more than half of the hours of darkness had run through. The next morning he rose early, and wandered about till he came to a little spring, which rattled over a bed of pebbles, and fell into a cavern beneath; it was a beautiful little spring, and its waters were cold and sweet, and as clear as the sky. He had just placed himself by the side of this little stream, when the silent maiden came thither also. The Nanticoke sat hidden from observation by one of the pillars, while she whispered her soft tale of love to the echoes of the cavern. She told them that she loved the stranger with the black hair, and sunny eyes, and proud mien; that she wished them to carry to the Great Spirit her wishes that he should ask her to become his own—his companion—his wife. More she would have said, but the Nanticoke caught her gently in his arms, preventing her slight screams with the kiss of love. "Thou shalt become my own—my companion—my wife," said he. "Lovely, and gentle, and dearly beloved creature! I had feared thou hadst no tongue, because to hear thee silent for a little while was something so new and strange in thy sex. But thou hast found a tongue to tell the echoes what thy bashful lips would not have dared tell me. I thank the Great Spirit that I overheard thy soft confession; it has removed those impediments which thy bashful timidity would else have interposed to our immediate union. Lovely maiden! with the black hair, and the bright forehead, and the slender waist, and the beautiful hand and foot, and the white teeth, what prevents thy accompanying me at once—to-day—this minute, to the land where I have taken up my abode, the pleasant and fruitful land of the Nanticokes? Again thou art silent, but the soft smile upon thy features tells me that thou art not averse to my proposal. I see in the look of thy sunny eye, in thy decreasing hesitation, and yielding reluctance, that thou wilt become the star of my pleasant cabin, the hope, the solace, and the joy of my life. Let us go then; ere ten suns be passed, thou shalt find thyself seated upon a bank, whose flowers are only less sweet than thyself. Thou shalt listen to a stream whose voice is only less musical than thine own, and see the beautiful night lit up by its very many glorious lamps.
"Brothers, I am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful maiden is she that sits by my side, and the child that rolls about on the green sod is the child of our love. I have no more to say."
The story of the second Nanticoke being finished, the third, whose name was Appomattox, rose, and thus addressed his brothers:—
Listen, said he, and you shall hear what befel Appomattox, who left you to travel eastward.
When he parted from his five brothers, he crossed the Great Arm[4]of the Salt Lake, and, in consequence of the revelations made by the spirit of a dream, pursued his journey towards the land of the cold spring-storms. He travelled fast, till he had wearied himself out, and then, building a small hut of bark to protect him from the rains and night-dews, he laid himself down to repose. He had not slept long, for the moon, that was a far way up when he sunk to sleep, had not reached the highest part of the heavens, when he heard a voice crying, "Appomattox! Appomattox!"
"Here I am," answered the Nanticoke. As he spoke, he raised himself up from his couch of leaves, and saw standing at his feet a strange-looking creature, whom the beams of the moon revealed to be a little, ugly, squat, brown man, not much higher than an Indian's hip. His shape was odd and singular, beyond anything the Nanticoke had ever seen. His legs were each as large as his body, and his feet were quite as much out of proportion. But his arms and hands were not larger than the arms and hands of the child which is playing at my feet, and his head was of the size of the head of a small dog, and similarly shaped. His eyes were red as the leaf of the maple in autumn; his skin was green as the bosom of the meadow in spring; yellow hair, as coarse as rock-moss, fell over his shoulders; and his nose was turned up till it reached his forehead; his ears were scarce larger than a man's thumb-nail, and his mouth than the blade of a pipe. It would have been a matter of wonder with the Nanticoke, how he could get the victuals into such a little mouth, if he had not been employed in noting the odd actions of the strange creature, and in listening to the tones of his voice, which resembled those of a cat when you tread upon its tail.
"Who are you!" asked the strange creature, and then gave a jump, turning himself head over heels, and stood upon his feet as before.
"I am a Nanticoke—one of the six who found themselves, in the morning of a clear day, in the Frog-Moon, standing upon the shores of the Great Lake, in the country where we have built cabins, and planted corn and tobacco. We know not how we were carried thither. We were, when we first knew we were—that is all we know. And who are you?"
"And that is as much as anybody knows," squeaked, or rather snarled, the strange creature, and again he took his tumble. "Wherever you came from, you seem a fine fellow, and I don't doubt wish for a wife. Come, go home with me. I live in a cave, in the hill close by, and will give you some fine fat toads, stewed with greens, for supper—or, if you like better, you shall have a roasted rabbit. As to who I am, I don't know myself. I only know that I am an odd sort of a fish."
The Nanticoke, who had not tasted food for many days, liked the offer of the rabbit very well, though he felt no relish for the stewed toads. So he went home with the strange creature to his dwelling in the hill. When they came to the the door of the cabin, the creature gave a knock with his foot, when the door was opened by a creature, stranger, if possible, than that which had conducted him to the cave. Upon entering, he beheld, scattered about the floor, a great many little children, quite as ugly and misshapen as the parents. Here lay one with a large leg and a little one, a full arm and a shrunken one, one-handed, or one-footed, or one-eyed. One had no hair: one was completely enveloped in it—in truth, the shapes were most various and singular. But all were not thus. Upon a bench, upon one side of the cave, sat a very little maiden—ye see how very little, and ye see how beautiful. When the Nanticoke entered, she drew her furred mantle around her, and pretended to hide her face, but she hid not her eyes, which were bent on the stranger youth. He had seen enough of her countenance to judge that she was very beautiful, and he loved her slight form, which he saw was light and graceful as the young fawn. He now entered into conversation with the old man, and they talked of many matters—he conversing quite like a sensible man, except that now and then he would take his strange tumble. At length, victuals were placed before them, and they sat down. The beautiful little maiden—with the usual pride of woman—dressed herself, and her black locks, with much care, and then came and placed herself at the table at which they were eating. Soft and fond glances were interchanged; and, before they had finished their meal, each had as good as said "I love." When they had done eating, the old man and woman arose, and under some pretence or other left the room, carrying with them the whole brood of odd and beast-like creatures. So the Nanticoke was left alone with the beautiful little maiden, to press her soft little hand, and to say in her ears those affectionate things which are always held sweeter by lovers for being told in whispers. Not much persuasion was necessary to obtain her consent to leave her father's house, and go with Appomattox to the spot where he had taken up his abode—to the cabin he had built beside the beautiful river Nanticoke. Their journey thither was not long—upon the sixth sun, they sat down upon the little plat of grass before the door of the cabin, and plucked the ripe grapes from the vines that leant upon its roof, and drank of the crystal stream which rattled over the pebbly bottom to the gentle river, and gathered the delicious berries that hung on every bush. And they saw the glorious sun illumine the earth, and the moon and stars lighting up the night, and the northern skies red with the dance of departed friends, and both blessed the moment that carried the Nanticoke to the hut of the very odd fish.
Brothers, I am that Nanticoke; and the beautiful little creature is she that sits at my side, and the little child that rolls about on the grass is the child of our love. My story is told.
And then the fourth Nanticoke rose, and told his story in the following words:
When I left my five brothers, said he, I crossed the river that glides by my cabin, and travelled towards the mountains which are called by Indians the Backbone of the Great Spirit. Upon the sixth day, I came to the hither part of the mountain, and sat down upon its eastern edge to rest my wearied limbs. It was near the hour of evening; the sun had not retired from the earth, but the lofty peaks of the mountains hid his beams from those who sat in the shade of those peaks, making it night to them. At length the sun set, and a thick veil of darkness was cast over the face of the earth. The ugly bat came forth, the mournful night-bird began his song, the wise owl hooted on the limb of the tree, and the dazzling little fire-fly twinkled in the glades, and among the trunks of the giant oaks. Then it was that a distant sound of music came to the ears of Apaumax the Nanticoke, who is myself. He listened, and caught the words, of a song issuing from a valley near the hillock upon which he sate. Softer than the plaintive cry of the dove, sweeter than the love-notes of the song-sparrow, was that song. Presently other voices could be heard laughing or singing, singly, or in concert. The Nanticoke was so greatly charmed with those notes that he determined to know whence they issued, and whose were the voices that sang them. So, descending the hill, he approached cautiously the spot where he had heard them, until he came suddenly upon a company of strange women who were dancing upon a green spot in the valley. They were the greater part of them very small, many being not taller than the sprout of three moons; but there were others, whose stature arose to the height of a full-grown person. Of the latter there was one whom the whole seemed to obey, the tallest woman of the group, and the most beautiful. She did not seem very youthful; at least her features spoke not of youth, nor did they imply age, but the period of life when woman is like a ripe grape, the sweetness of which is diminished by being suffered to hang a single day more on the vine untasted. She had a pale skin—ye see how pale—her cheeks were red as the flower that blooms among thorns, and her eye shone like the little flower which emulates the blue of the sky. Her lips were red and pouting, and her teeth whiter than the lily. Beautiful creature! lovely and beloved woman!
Cautiously did the Nanticoke approach the merry dancers, and, seating himself upon the earth where they could not observe him, he watched their sprightly and rapid motions. Nothing could exceed the beauty of the dances, or the grace of the dancers, or the sweetness of the tunes to which they danced. At last, one of the little maidens, in a fit of frolic, ran out of the circle of dancers, and by chance came to the spot where the Nanticoke had seated himself; a loud scream told him that he was discovered. When they found that a stranger had hidden near them, and witnessed their mystic dances, they were filled with great wrath, and all, as one, rushed up to the spot where he had concealed himself. He, knowing no fear, stood up boldly amongst them, and suffered them to scrutinize his person, rightly judging that nothing would so soon mollify their anger as to look upon his handsome and finely proportioned form. When they had gazed as much as they liked, she, the tallest, the one whom all obeyed, spoke in a stern voice, and asked, why he had dared to steal upon them while they were dancing the Sacred Dance of Darkness, and singing the Spirit's Song of Midnight? Did he not know that they were Spirits, the Spirits of the Mountain, who, for many hundred years, had nightly come, while summer lasted, to this green spot, to hold their joyous carousals, mixing music with mirth, and drinking the sweet drink which they found in the cups of the flowers and mottling the leaves of the rose. What had he to say why death should not be inflicted upon him?
The Nanticoke answered that he had much to say why death should not be inflicted upon him; that, having heard tones sweeter than those of the mocking-bird, and wishing to see who they were that laughed so merrily, and sung so sweetly, he had approached cautiously for that purpose. When he beheld the most beautiful creatures of the earth or the air engaged in dancing, and heard them singing their sweet songs, he was struck with wonder, astonishment, and admiration; and, fearing lest his discovering himself should frighten them away, he had hidden himself. This was all the crime he had committed. And, as for punishment, rather than die he was content to take the tall young woman to wife.
Upon this the spirits all laughed, except the one thus singled out, and she held down her head, though apparently not displeased. The Nanticoke, emboldened by her silence, whispered in her ear that he loved her; and, notwithstanding that her manner was at first repulsive, and she pretended to be displeased, and to frown upon the confident Apaumax, he could perceive that she had not suffered his words to fall to the ground. At first her face was averted, presently he caught a view of her mouth, and at last her face was actually turned towards him, and she was smiling bashfully upon the bold lover. Before the moon had advanced to the highest part of the heavens, they had given each other the kiss of love, and she had promised the Nanticoke to leave the cold regions of the mountain, and to go with him to his own sunny clime.
Brothers, I am that Nanticoke, and the tall, beautiful woman is she that sits at my side, and the child that is playing at my feet is the child of our love.
When Apaumax had finished his story, the fifth Nanticoke, whose name dwells not in my memory, rose and said:
When I left my five brothers, I went according to my agreement with them to the land of the warm sun, the smiling south. I travelled many days, and became hungry, faint, and weary. I saw no beasts upon which I could exercise my bow, no fish gliding about the waters, provoking the thrust of my spear. Here and there were scattered a few birds, but they were those upon which none can afford to feed, but a very patient man, or one that has nothing to do but eat. So, finding a pleasant resting-place, I lay down, and tried to call to my aid the Good Spirit, that refreshes the soul of man with pleasant dreams. He came and bade me arise with the morning sun, and travel further on, following the bend of the little river, at whose source I stood. I should come, he said, to a little hill upon the banks of a lake, filled with shining fish, and not far from the Great River. And, so saying, he left me to the sleep of night.
I rose refreshed by my slumbers, and pursued the route pointed out by the Spirit. Travelling in this path, I came on the morning of the next day to a little hill on the backs of a lake, and saw in its clear current the shining fish which had been spoken of by the spirit of dreams, and by this I knew that I had travelled right. The hill was a very little hill, and the lake was a very little lake, and the fish were very little fish. The hill was scarce half so high as the flight of an arrow; the lake was not broader than twice the flight of the same, when impelled by a vigorous arm; and the fishes were minnows indeed. Upon either side of the lake arose tall trees, around which grape-vines had wreathed themselves, and upon which fruit, ripe, black, and delicious, hung temptingly exposed to the eye of the traveller. The birds were twittering about the boughs, and swallows were skimming the bosom of the lake. But what most astonished the Nanticoke was, the great number of little cabins scattered along its shores. They were none of them higher than his hip, and were built of mud and grass. The Nanticoke, who loved to look upon the fair things of nature, the sun, and moon, and stars, and leafy woods, and green meads, and quiet waters, and other beautiful things of nature, sat down upon the border of the lake, and permitted the throb of delight to enter his bosom, through the medium of his eyes. While he sate thus absorbed, he saw a little black creature, with four legs, creep out of the water near him, and stretch itself at its length upon the green sod. It was black, glossy, and not longer than a man's arm. While it was devouring its food, which in this instance was roots dug from the marsh, it raised itself upon its two hind legs, to an upright posture, sitting erect as a Nanticoke, until it had finished. During the time it was eating, it was continually talking and chattering to itself, in a language, which the Nanticoke could discover, by the few words which reached his ear, to be that in which he himself spoke. Astonished, beyond the power of words to express, at hearing a beast speak, a beast, too, of such a mean appearance, he rose and advanced towards it. When it saw him coming, instead of retreating to the water, as beasts which are untamed usually do at the approach of man, whom all inferior creatures thus acknowledge as their chief, it advanced to meet him, made the sign of friendship in use among the Nanticokes, and spoke to him thus:
"Stranger! I bid thee welcome to the waters of the Lake of Musk-rats. Thou hast come to a region, rich in sunny skies, and yielding abundance of fruit. Thou hast come to the great village of my race, to the spot where we have dwelt ever since ourselves, and this lake, and that hill, were formed at the nod of the Great Spirit. Hitherto we have dwelt in peace, unvisited by one of thy race, but reason, and instinct alike inform me that thou wilt become the enemy of my tribe. Hitherto we have dwelt in peace, with none to vex us, or make us afraid—that period is past, and now thou wilt destroy us, unless something is done to unite us in the bonds of firm friendship. Thou hast proclaimed thyself a Nanticoke—one of the six that found themselves sitting upon the shores of the Great Lake, in the latter part of a warm and pleasant day, in the Moon in which the shad leave the waters that are salt, and journey to those that are fresh. It is well. Thou must be joined with the nation of Musk-rats in a lasting league. Come to my cabin."
So saying, the grave old Musk-rat led the Nanticoke to his dwelling, which stood at the farther part of the lake. It was built like the rest of the cabins in the village, but it was very much larger and handsomer than the rest, and there were a great many doors to it, and little houses around it, all of which showed it to be the residence of a Musk-rat of honour and eminence, a chief of high degree among his people. The chief of the Musk-rats bade the Nanticoke enter this cabin, but a moment after he said, "No, no, that cannot be done. It is not high enough for such a tall, strapping gawky as you are. So sit you here, while I go and fetch you food." So the Nanticoke seated himself on the sward, while the chief of the Musk-rats went to his house to fetch food for his guest.
He soon returned, and brought with him a variety of things to eat, which he placed on the sward, beside the Nanticoke. Some were such things as men may well eat, and some were only fit for a Musk-rat. The Nanticoke drew out his flint, and struck fire, while the chief of the Muskrats, who had never seen fire before, sat looking on and expressing loud amazement. After they had finished the meal, the chief gave a loud cry, upon which a number of little Musk-rats ran out of the house, and approached the spot where they were sitting. They were of all sizes, fat, sleek, glossy, little things, which seemed to delight in the pure air, and to enjoy greatly a roll about on the grassy sod. Approaching the Nanticoke, those which were old enough, with a very pretty nod, bade him welcome to the village of the Musk-rats—which showed that they had been taught good manners, though they were four-legged creatures. Shortly after, a beautiful Musk-rat was observed to leave the cabin of the chief, and to approach them circuitously. It came timidly, the beautiful creature, and sat down at a short distance from them. The chief of the Musk-rats upon this spoke to the Nanticoke, and asked him what he thought of his little daughter. The Nanticoke who, like all other good and brave men, always spoke the truth, answered that "she was indeed a most beautiful Muskrat—what a pity that she was still a Muskrat!"
"True, but she is the finest Muskrat in the waters of the lake," answered the father; "and she knows better than any other the best method of keeping a house tidy. And as for her knowledge—Musk-rat knowledge—who has more? and for cunning and stratagem, match me my little daughter among all the females of the lakes. What say you to marrying her?"
"All you have said in praise of your daughter, no doubt, is very true," answered the Nanticoke, "but she has four legs, and besides is too little to be the wife of a big fellow like myself."
"She has no more legs than you have," answered the wise creature. "What are your arms pray, but legs? But all her faults can be remedied. Wait here till I return."
So saying, the chief of the Musk-rats retired behind a little hillock, and, digging a small hole in the earth, he filled it with a kind of red sand mixed with mud. When he had done this, he dropped into it seven drops of a kind of green water, and seven times repeated the word "Tuscaloosa," which was, as he said, the name of the guardian Spirit of the Musk-rats. When he had done invoking the name, he laid himself down upon the earth, hid his head between his paws, and his tail between his legs, and pretended to be sleeping. Presently, the Nanticoke saw arise from the bottom of the lake a creature shaped like a Musk-rat, but larger than any beast he had ever seen. Each of his legs was as large as a tree, and his tail was broader than the length of a man, and his ears were of great size. He had a great white ring around his neck, and around each leg, and his belly was as red as the leaf of the maple in autumn. But the most singular things about him were his face, which was like the face of a man, and his fore-paws, which were like the hands of a man. The strange creature, who was the guardian Spirit of the nation of Musk-rats, came swimming along as a frog swims, and in scarce more than two breaths landed upon the shore where they sat. Going up to the chief of the Musk-rats, he gave him a slight blow on the back, exclaiming:
"What is your wish?"
"Take away from my daughter the shape of a Musk-rat, and give her the shape of a Nanticoke," answered the father.
"Not of me, but of my master must the favour be asked," answered the Spirit. "I will try what can be done for you." So saying, he went to the side of the little maiden Musk-rat, and whispered certain words in her ear. When he had done this, he went to the forest near them, cut down a young pine-tree, dug up a root of the hemlock, took a spruce cone, an oak acorn, a hickery nut, and a birch-leaf, and laid them all in the fire which the Nanticoke had kindled. While they were burning, he walked round the fire muttering many words in an unknown tongue, and striking the earth repeatedly with the stone staff which he held in his hand. When the different things he had put in the fire were reduced to ashes, he gathered the ashes into the hollow of his hand, dropped upon them seven drops of a kind of green water, and seven times cried aloud to his master, with his mouth applied to the ear of the earth. Ere the echo of the last cry had died away among the hills, a little red man crept out of the hole which had been dug by the chief of the Musk-rats, and stood before them. He was shaped like a Nanticoke, but he was exceeding small. His face was very beautiful, his eyes shone like the blue of the sky, and his hair like the blush of sunset. When he came, all the Musk-rats, as well as the genius who presided over them, bowed themselves to the earth, and remained with their eyes hidden, while he addressed them thus:
"What would you with the Master of Life, Musk-rats, that you summon him from his house of shining stone, in the bowels of the earth, to smell the tainted breezes of the upper air?"
The Spirit told his master what was wanted by the Musk-rats. "It shall be done," said the kind and beneficent Master. "Man of the Six Nanticokes, who found themselves, all at once, they knew not how, nor by what means, sitting upon the shores of the Great Lake, upon a sunny day in the Frog-Moon, rise, take thy bride, and lead her to the border of the lake. When thou shalt come to the water, bid her dip her feet in the water, while thou, standing over her, shalt pronounce these words: "For the last time as a Musk-rat, for the first time as a woman. Go in a beast—come out a human being. In the name of the Master of Life, I command thee to wear no more the form of an animal, but to assume that shape which is appointed by Him to be the ruler, the head chief, the governor of all. This do, and thou shalt see the change that will come.""
The Master ceased speaking, and the Nanticoke did as he was bid. He took the glossy little maiden Musk-rat by the paw, led her to the border of the lake, and, while she dipped her feet in the water, he pronounced aloud the words: "For the last time as a Musk-rat, for the first time as a woman. Go in a beast—come out a human being. In the name of the Master of Life, I command thee to wear no more the form of an animal, but to assume that shape which is appointed by Him to be the ruler, the head chief, the governor of all."
Scarcely were the words spoken, when the change commenced upon the little animal. Her body was observed to be assuming the posture of a human being, gradually erecting itself, as a sapling, which has been bent to the earth, re-ascends to its upright position. When the little animal became erect, the skin began to fall from the head and neck, and gradually unveiling the body to the very feet, displayed to all around the form of a maiden, beautiful as the flowery mead, or the blue sky filled with stars, or the north, lit up by the dance of departed friends, or the rainbow, which precedes, or follows the summer rain; but not so large as the little child which stands at my feet. Her hand was scarce larger than a hazel-leaf, and her foot not longer than the wing of the ring-dove. Her arm was so very slight, that it seemed the breeze might break it. The Nanticoke gazed with delight on his beauteous bride, and how was his delight heightened when he saw that she was gradually increasing in stature, and swelling to the fair size and proportions of a human being, as exhibited in himself! Before the great star of day had retired beyond the mountains of the west, she stood fair in size as matchless in charms, and was pressed to the heart of the Nanticoke, with a suitable acknowledgment to the Great Being, who had bestowed her upon him.
Brothers, I am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful woman that was once a Musk-rat is she that sits at my side, and the child that is playing at my feet is the child of our love. And this is all I have to say.
The last of the Six Nanticokes commenced his story thus:
I left my brothers, and travelled towards the regions of cold and snow—the land of perpetual ice and frost. I travelled many, very many days, over hill and through dale, now encountering the keen air of the mountains, and now the damp fogs of the low grounds, when I came, at the hour of noon, to the bottom of a deep valley. In the bottom of this valley, was a well dug in the earth, and which appeared to have no bottom. It was half as wide over as the flight of an arrow, and how deep no one could say. The waters which met the eye at a vast distance below the surface of the earth were green as grass, and, what seemed most strange to those who saw them, appeared to be full of eyes, bright shining eyes, resembling what bubbles blown upon the water would be, if they could be lit up by the beams of the sun. And whether it was that there were winds uttering sounds in the well or not, could not be told, but certain it is that whispers proceeded therefrom like those of human voices, sounding in deep caves. Fatigued by my long journey, I lay down upon the earth by the side of the well, intending to sleep. But the spirit which presides over the night came not at my summoning, and I lay restless and discontented, until the moon had climbed the tops of the highest hills. Then it was that shapes of strange appearance, Spirits, which bore the likeness of human beings in all save their eyes, began to come out of the well. They were of all colours and sizes, tall, short, thick, spare, black, white, grey, green, yellow, red. But in colour the eyes of all were alike—all were bright, and shining, and glittering like the blush of sunset. There were both men and women, and there were also many children. As soon as the Spirits of the Well stood upon the earth, they immediately formed themselves into a circle, and began dancing. Lightly did they trip away on the green sod, dancing without intermission for the whole period between their first appearance on the earth and the first glimmer of day upon the tall peaks of the mountains. When the red tinge which announces the approach of the sun first appeared, they all stole into their hiding-place, and again were the waters of the well filled with eyes, resembling sun-lit bubbles, and again whispers proceeded therefrom like those of human voices sounding from deep caves.
The Nanticoke—that is myself—who was now burning with curiosity to know something more of the strange creatures dwelling in the well, determined to stay yet another night to accost them, and to learn who and what they were. So he built him a hut of bark near, and reposed beneath it, until the shadows of night again descended upon the earth. With the beam of the rising moon again ascended these merry dancers, the Spirits of the Well, and commenced their gambols on the green sod. But what most astonished him was, that on neither night had they spoken to him, or given indications that they considered him a living being. In performing their mazy dances, they had several times come within a few feet of him, and once one of the agile creatures, running out of the circle, cleared his head with a bound, which showed that the impediment was observed and avoided. Determined to make himself known to them, if words could do so, the Nanticoke, a stranger to fear, approaching the circle of dancers, thrust himself into the midst of them. Yet was his object unaccomplished. They danced around him, they crossed their hands touching him, they leaped over him, in appearance they ran against him, though he felt them not. Still none of the circumstances produced recognition. He hallooed, apparently they heard him not; he danced with them, they heeded not his motions. Determined, whatever it might cost him, to make them know him, he caught at a passing form, selecting, for the object of his embrace, the most beautiful of all the dancers, a lovely woman, whose beauties cannot be described. What did he embrace? A shadow! a mere phantom! That beautiful form is a shade! He draws not to his bosom a creature invested with the attributes of humanity, with its virtues, its faults, its weaknesses. He feels not the soft breath of woman fanning his cheek, nor the throb of her little heart bounding against his own. There comes a cold, clammy air to his brow, like that of water in a cold morning, and the pulsation of his heart is checked instead of quickened. She is gone. He finds he has no more power to retain her in his arms, or to awaken in her a knowledge of his existence, than he has to arrest the march of the summer wind, or to hold conversation with the stars of night. Another, and another, and yet another fruitless attempt to clasp that form, for whom he begins to feel a new, and strange, and predominating interest, convince him that they are not of his order, but exist unapproachable by beings of clay. Again the morning dawns, and again they fly to their damp and chill retreat.
The Nanticoke, exhausted by long watching, and wearied out by incessant exertion to embrace the beautiful phantom, lay down upon the earth, and sunk into a deep sleep. Then it was that the Manitou of Dreams came to his couch, and whispered in his ear these words:
"Nanticoke! the shadows which nightly appear to thee are the Spirits of the Well. In this well for many hundred years have they dwelt, and every night do they visit the upper air to respire its breezes. Unlike other spirits, they see not human beings, nor can they by any means, short of the direct interference of the Master of Life, be made sensible of their presence. Blows touch them not, nor do their eyes behold those things which mortals behold, but those which mortals behold not. They have a world of their own, which, though it be comprised within the space of the world we inhabit, is distinctly separate in its nature and properties, and requires things of a different order to inhabit it. They wear, as you see, the shape of a human being, but they have none of its properties save the shape.
"How shall I make myself known to them? how shall I make myself known to the beautiful creature I have so often tried to clasp in my arms?" demanded the Nanticoke.
"It is to tell thee how that I am now at thine ear," answered the Master of Dreams. "Listen."
"Peel from the vine that bears no fruit its inner bark, and of this twist thee a long cord that shall carry to the water of the well the thing thou shalt tie to it. When it is finished, attach to it the white flat stone having in it little shining specks, which thou shalt find lying upon the edge of the near rivulet, where the feet of deer have worn a deep and broad path. Thou must let this stone descend with a quick motion till it reach the water, the whilst crying aloud, 'Come forth, maiden spirit with the bright eyes, and assume the corporeal state which shall fit thee for becoming a resident of the upper earth. Quit the impalpable form thou didst wear in the world of thine own, and be flesh, and blood, and bones, and marrow, in ours. Be no more the cold and chilled inhabitant of a dark, damp, and murky well, but become a warm and impassioned woman. Awake to the joys and sorrows, and hopes and fears, and doubts and disappointments, and cares and anxieties, which belong to human life. Awake to the throbs of love, and the joys of maternity.'" So saying, the Spirit departed to the place of his rest in the land of dreams.
The Nanticoke arose, and did as he was bidden. He peeled from the vine that bore no fruit its inner bark, and with it he made a cord of sufficient length to reach the water of the well. He searched for the flat, white stone with little shining specks in it, and having found it he attached it to the cord, and let it descend with a quick motion till it reached the water. Whilst it was descending, he cried aloud, "Come forth, maiden spirit with the bright eyes, and assume the corporeal state of a human being. Quit the impalpable form thou didst wear in the world of thine own, and be flesh, and blood, and bones, and marrow, in ours. Be no more the cold and chilled inhabitant of a dark, damp, and murky well, but become a warm and impassioned woman. Awake to the joys and sorrows, and hopes and fears, and doubts and disappointments, and cares and anxieties, which belong to human life. Awake to the throbs of love, and the feelings of maternity."
Scarce had the words escaped from his lips, when, by a ray of light which beamed into the well, he saw her he loved, her whose beauteous form he had so often attempted to clasp to his breast, ascending. Now she rises, suspended as it were, by nothing, now she has gained the earth. Already has she felt the change which has come over her, already she knows herself invested with other feelings and properties than those which have accompanied her in the state which she has quitted. Sounds are ringing in her ears which never rang there till now; visions are before her eyes which are now awakened for the first time. The music of birds, and the hum of bees, and the rattling of the distant rill, and the sighing of the wind, greet her ear, and her eyes are made happy by all the bright things which the Great Being has placed in this glorious world. And, most of all the objects which meet her eye, does the form of the Nanticoke please and gratify her. Her beautiful cheek is covered with a blush, her eye grows mellower, and her heart beats with a new, and till now unfelt passion. Few minutes pass ere she is in his arms, and has given and received the kiss of affection. She has awoke to the feelings of humanity, her heart has felt the throb of love, her bosom has been pained by the fear that it may not be returned; and anxiety, and joy, and grief, and many of the other passions of human nature, have visited her bosom. Beautiful creature! she has blushed on the Nanticoke her consent to be his, she has whispered in his delighted ear her happiness and pleasure; and, while she sits on the green sod at his side, she lays her head on his shoulder, and sings a sweet song of happy lovers, in the language of the Nanticoke which has become her own. I recollect not the words of that song, but it came to the ears of the enraptured Indian as the first word of a little child to the ears of its mother.
Brothers! I am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful spirit is she that sits at my side, and the child at my feet is the child she bore me. And this is all I have to say.
Before the world existed, and before mountains, men, and animals, were created; while the sky was yet without a sun, ere the moon and stars were hung up for the lamps of darkness, the Great Being, who is alike the preserver and sustainer of the red man and his younger brother the white man, was with the woman, the beautiful spirit, the Universal Mother. This woman was not of the same nature as the Great Being. He was a spirit, bloodless, fleshless, bodiless; she bore the form, and was gifted with the properties of a human being.
At that time all was water, at least water covered all things. No eye could have discovered aught else, had there been an eye to see. That which existed was darkness—all was darkness—darkness.—Darkness was all, in all, and over all. There were no sounds abroad, no winds swept the face of the waters, which lay black, still, and stagnant, as the slime of a pool surrounded by a thick copse. The waters were rotted by their long continued stagnation, and the winds could not exist in the heavy and murky air.
Upon a certain time, this beautiful woman descended from heaven, till she came to the sleeping and stagnant waters. She was pregnant by the Great Being; and her immense proportions denoted that she would bring forth more than one. When she struck the waters, in her fall, she did not sink deep into them, but where she settled down, immediately land appeared, upon which she rested, and continued sitting. The land grew by degrees, and increased around her, so that in a short time there was so much spare room, that she could draw up her legs out of the water, in which they had hung for so long a time, that they were covered with grass, like logs which have been floating in the sea. And still wider grew the space of solid earth, like that which would appear when the water recedes from sand which it had previously covered. Gradually the land spread itself from the seat of the beautiful woman, until its extent was soon beyond the reach of the eye. And, as the land increased, the motion of the waves, from the rush of the new-born winds, threw it up into the heaps and piles which are the hills and mountains, leaving, along its low spaces, the waters, which are the rills and rivers of the earth.
While the woman sat thus, watching the growth of the earth, she perceived unusual appearances upon its surface. Grass and herbs began to appear; trees, both fruitful and unfruitful, sprang up; and, in a short time, all things proceeded, and grew as they now are. Soon was a robe of grass and flowers spread over the naked sod; and soon, though not so soon, was it shadowed by a thick and almost impervious forest. The pine, and the oak, and the walnut, and the spruce, and the hemlock, broke through the crust of the earth, and the inferior shrubs made themselves a way to the light of the air. Soon all things proceeded, and grew as they now are, and the world became the beautifully green, and verdant, and flourishing, world it is now.
When the earth had grown to its present size, and had become covered with grass, the beautiful woman, who had carried her burthen in her womb for forty seasons, gave it to the light. She was delivered of three kinds of fruit. The first was like a deer, in every respect; the second had the shape of a bear; the third had the form and nature of a wolf. The woman nursed these fruits with great care and tenderness, until they had attained their full growth. Then she took all the three sons, or kinds of fruit, as husbands, living with each by turns. The result of this connexion or cohabitation was the production of other animals, always more than one at a birth, and from these sprung all the other animals of the various kinds and species to be seen at this day. In time, as well from natural instinct as suitableness, each associated, with its own kind and species, and has so continued to do ever since. But the connexion did not always produce progeny of the same nature and stock as the parents. Every production and re-production further diversified the animal race, until the almost infinite variety of creatures was produced. The dog was the son of the wolf, and the house-cat was the daughter of the panther; the teal was of the children of the grey goose; and who fathered the sparrow-hawk but the eagle?
When all things were properly disposed, and placed in a condition to subsist, and to continue of themselves, the Universal Mother, having accomplished her designs, joyfully ascended to the sky which she had left. In the mean time, she told the Great Being what she had done. He said to her, "You have done well as far as you have done, but you have left undone one thing you ought to have done. You have created an innumerable number of beasts, but they are without a head. You ought to have made a being endowed with wisdom, to govern, with a little of my help, the affairs of the world, and to preserve its less important matters in some kind of order. The animals and creatures you have made are, many of them, great fools, and none very wise, and, besides, are without souls competent to receive instruction. There is not one of them that has understanding enough to direct the feet of his neighbour in the path he should go—it would be the blind leading the blind, and together would they fall into the ditch. What more would the bear do, if he were made ruler, than train his subjects to perform great feats of strength, or to climb a tree, or to suck their paws through the long nights of winter?—The panther would teach them savage cruelty and a speedy step, and the deer would counsel them to fly from the pursuit of a snail, or a land-tortoise, or the cry of a wren, or the prate of a jackdaw; the fox might teach them cunning, and the dog sagacity, and the wild cat nimbleness, and the antelope fleetness, and the wolf courage, and the owl an insight into my ways. But there must be a being to repress the insolence, and controul the rage, of the more savage creatures, and to protect, as far as he can, the weaker from the oppression of the stronger. Such a being must be created, and be called MAN. Descend, once more, to the earth, beautiful and Universal Mother! and give birth to one more being, who shall be the lord of all the creatures that live, move, or breathe, on the land, in the air, or in the water."
Upon receiving this command, the Universal Mother again descended to the earth. She selected for her husband, in order to the production of the new being, a very subtle owl, who was the half-brother of a bear and a wolf, the cousin of a dog and a deer, and distantly related to the panther, the fox, the eagle, and the adder. By him she had, at one birth, two children. Men take their qualities from the beasts, to whom they are related, and most from those of whose blood they have most in their veins. If they have most of their great father's, the owl, they are wise, and generally become priests; if the wolf predominates, they are bloody-minded; if the bear, they are dirty and sluggish, great eaters, and love to lick their fingers; if the deer, they are exceedingly timorous and feeble; if the fox, cruel and sly; the eagle, bold, daring, and courageous, and the adder, treacherous. Thus men have, all their different natures and properties from the brutes, and oftentimes are worse than brutes.
Will my brother listen? will he hear what a Mohegan has to say of the manner in which his nation first became acquainted with the white people?
A great many seasons ago, when men with a white skin had never been seen in the land of the Mohegans, before the Fire-eater had come to take the place of the Yagesho(1), or the pale-face had succeeded to the less destructive Mammoth(2); some men of our nation, who were out at a place where the sea widens, espied, far away on the bosom of the Great Lake, a very large creature floating on the water. It was such an object as they had never seen before. Fear of this creature immediately filling their bosoms, they hastily returned to the shore. Having apprised their countrymen of what they had seen, they pressed them to accompany them, and make further discoveries of its nature and its purpose in coming thither. Launching their canoes, they hurried out together, and saw with increased astonishment the wonderful object which was approaching. Their conjectures were very various as to what it was; some believed it to be a great fish, or animal; while others were of opinion that it was a very big house floating on the bosom of the Great Lake. They were not long in concluding that this wonderful and mysterious object was moving towards the land, and they also saw that it was endued with life. Deeming it proper to inform all their brethren, to whom intelligence could be conveyed, of what was coming, that they might be on their guard, they dispatched swift runners and fast rowers in every direction, to the east, west, and north, to carry the news to the scattered chiefs, and tribes, that they might gather their warriors together, and prepare to combat, if need were, the strange creature. Soon, the chiefs and warriors of the neighbouring tribes were collected in great numbers, at that part of the shore which the strange creature was clearly approaching. It soon came so near that they were able to make it out to be a large moving house, (though they had never beheld such) in which, as they supposed, the Great Spirit himself was present, and coming to visit them.
Wishing to receive him in a manner which should mark their sense of his goodness to them and their fathers, to the giver of the corn, and the meat, and the victory over their enemies, they deliberated in what manner that object could be best accomplished. The first thing was to provide plenty of meat for a sacrifice, and with this view the best hunters were dispatched to the forest, in quest of those animals supposed to be most acceptable to the mighty guest. The women were directed to preparetasmananeand pottage in the best manner. All the idols were brought out, examined, and put in order. As a grand dance was always supposed to be an agreeable entertainment to the Great Spirit, one was ordered, not only for his gratification, but that it might, with the aid of a sacrifice, appease him, if he were angry with them, and induce him to stay his hand, rather than slay them. The priests andpowwowswere called, and set to work to determine, if possible, what this remarkable event portended, and what the possible result might be. They came habited in their robes of magic, skins of black bears, the head, nose, ears, teeth, as also the legs, with the long claws, appearing the same as when the animal lived, with a huge pair of buffalo-horns upon the head, and a large bushy tail projecting from behind. Some were frightfully painted, some had the skin of an owl drawn over their heads, and some had snakes wreathed around their bodies. To them, and to the chiefs and wise men of the nation, the women and children, and the men of inferior note, were looking up for advice and protection. And now, filling their gourds with water from the stump of a fallen cypress, they began their work of incantation, by muttering over the magic water a charm that had hitherto been of potent influence, and words that called upon many spirits to assist in effecting the wishes of the masters of the spell. The spirits answered not, and the priests became so distracted with fears at the unusual deafness of those who had given them their power, that they increased the fever of apprehension they should have assisted to calm. The gourds, with the charmed water, fell from their hands, and, though the dance was commenced with fervour and enthusiasm, yet, such was the alarm, that it did not possess the regularity and order with which the Great Spirit through songs, dances, and sacrifices, must be approached.
While in this situation, those men in canoes who had approached nearest to the strange object returned, and declared that it was a great house painted of various colours, and crowded with human beings. They thought it certain that it was the Great Spirit, bringing them some gift which they did not possess before. Other messengers soon arrived, who had seen the inhabitants of the house, and made a report which did not lessen their wonder, fear, or curiosity. They told their friends that they were men of a different colour from the Indians, and differently dressed; they were white as the flesh of a plucked bird, and wore no skins; and one of them, who must be the Great Spirit himself, was dressed entirely in red. The great house, or whatever it was, continued to approach. While approaching, some one in it cried to them in a loud voice, and in a language which they could not understand, yet they shouted in reply, according to the custom of the Mohegans. Much frightened at the strange voices, and at the still stranger creature which floated towards them, many proposed to retreat to the hills for security; others opposed this, lest offence should be given to their visiter, who would find them out and destroy them. At last, the strange creature, which they now found to be a great canoe, stopped, and, at once, the robes white as snow, which were spread over its numerous arms, and covered its three heads, fluttered in the winds like clouds in the season of ripe corn. Soon were many of the strange men employed in gathering these robes into folds, as Indians pack skins. Presently a canoe of smaller size approached the shore where the Indians sat, having in it the man who was dressed in red and many others. When he had landed, leaving his canoe with some of his men to guard it, he approached the Mohegan chiefs and warriors who were assembled in council, and had seated themselves in a circle, as is their custom when about to receive ambassadors and messengers of peace. The man in red walked fearlessly into the midst of them, and saluted them all with great kindness, taking a hand of each, which he shook very hard. The Indians, on their part, testified their gladness, and their friendship, and their emotions of joy and satisfaction at their arrival, by loud shouts, and by rubbing their cheeks against those of their new acquaintance, and by patting them on the back. Lost in admiration of the strangers, of their dress, so gay and so dissimilar to that of the Indians, their manners so unlike, their features so different, and their language so utterly unknown, the Mohegans could do nothing but wonder and applaud. A large portion of their admiration, was however, reserved for the man who wore the glittering red coat, and who, they doubted not, was the Great Spirit. The curiosity of the people was expressed in a thousand different ways; the priests wondered whether the Great Spirit knew and recognised them as old acquaintances; the warriors, whether the men who accompanied him were fleet, and courageous as themselves; and the women were very curious to know if the men were like our own men, and loudly expressed their determination to ascertain the fact. All agreed in this, that whether beings of this world, or of the land of dreams, they must be treated with great kindness(3), and fed upon the choicest viands of the tribe.
Meanwhile, a large hackhack, or gourd, was brought to the man in red by one of his servants, from which he poured an unknown liquor resembling rain-water, into a small cup of such an appearance as the Indians had never before seen. He drank the liquor from this cup, and, filling it again, he handed it to the Mohegan chief standing next him. The chief received it, smelt to it, and passed it untested to the chief standing by him, who did the same, till it had been handled and smelt to by all the Indians in the circle, while not one had tasted it. The man who last took the cup was upon the point of returning it to the supposed Manitou in red; when the Bender of the Pine Bow, one of the bravest Mohegans, and the stoutest warrior in the nation, rose and spoke to his brothers thus:
"It is not right for us to return the cup with its contents untested. It is handed to us by the Manitou, that we may drink as he has done. To follow his example will be pleasing to him; it will show our confidence in him, and the courage which we have been told is highly valued by him. To return the cup with its contents untasted, will give him reason to think that we believe it to be the juice of the poison-tree; it will provoke his anger and bring destruction upon us all. It is for the good of the nation that the contents of the cup should be swallowed, and, as no one else will do it, the Bender of the Pine Bow devotes himself to the killing draught. It is better that one man should perish than that a whole nation should be destroyed."
The Bender of the Pine Bow then took the glass, and, giving many directions, and bidding a solemn farewell to his family and friends, resolutely drank its fearful contents. Every eye was fixed upon the brave man, to see what effect the strange liquor would produce. Soon he began to stagger, to whine fearfully, to roll up the whites of his eyes, to loll out his tongue, to shout, and to act a thousand other extravagancies. At last, he fell prostrate on the ground, and a deep sleep came over him. His companions, supposing him dead, fell to bemoaning his fate, and his wife set up the death-howl; all thought him a martyr to his valour and his love for his nation. But the man in red only laughed at their grief, and by signs gave them to understand that he would rise again. He told them true: the chief awoke, and declared to his friends that he had enjoyed, while apparently lifeless, the most delicious sensations, and that he had never before felt so happy as after he had drunk the cup. He asked the stranger in red for more; his wish was granted: the other Indians made the same request, and so was theirs; the whole assembly tasted the contents of the cup, and all became as mad and intoxicated as their leader. Soon was the Mohegan camp a scene of noise and tumult, brawl and bloodshed.
After the general madness had ceased, the man in red and his associates, who, while it lasted, had confined themselves to their canoe, returned to the shore, and distributed presents, such as beads and axes, among the Indians. The two nations soon became familiar with each other, and a conversation ensued, wherein the wants and wishes of each, as far as they could be made intelligible, were conveyed by signs. The strangers gave them to understand that they must recross the Great Salt Lake, to the vales which contained their wives and little ones; but that they would be back again when the season of snows should have passed, and would bring with them more and richer presents. With these promises, they departed.
When the season of flowers came round again, it brought with it the man in red, and a great band of followers. The Indians were very glad to see the pale faces, who appeared equally pleased at the meeting. But the latter were much diverted, and made a great laugh at the uses to which the Indians had put their presents, for they had suspended the axes and hoes around their necks, and used the stockings for tobacco-pouches. The visiters now taught them the proper use of those implements. Having put handles to the axes and hoes, with the former they felled great trees, making the forest ring with their blows; with the latter they cut up the weeds which choked the maize. The various benefits conferred upon the Indians by their visiters confirmed them in the belief that they were indeed spiritual beings, he in red being in their estimation the Supreme Manitou, and his attendants, the inferior Manitous. The visiters did not this time all go back in the canoes; many of them continued to abide with the Indians, who gave or sold them land(4), and lived very contentedly with them until they wished to dispossess them of the very grounds where they had buried the bones of their fathers. Wars were then commenced, and the Indians were soon dispossessed of the soil which was theirs by their birthright.
(1)The Yagesho.—p. 99.
I have not the means of judging whether this is an imaginary beast or not, probably it was. The following is the Indian account: The Tagisho, or Yagesho, was an animal much superior to the largest bear, remarkably long-bodied, broad down by his shoulders, but thin or narrow just at its hind legs. It had a large head and fearful look. Its legs were short and thick; its paws (at the toes of which were nails or claws, nearly as long as an Indian's finger), spread very wide. It was almost bare of hair, except the hinder part of its legs, in which places the hair was very long. For this reason, the Indians gave it the name of "Naked Bear." Several of these animals had been destroyed by the Indians, but the one of which the following account is given, had escaped them, and for years had from time to time destroyed many Indians, particularly women and children when they were out in the woods gathering nuts, digging roots, or at work in the fields. Hunters, when overtaken by this animal, had no way of escaping, except where a river or lake was at hand, by plunging into it, and swimming out or down the stream to a great distance; when this was the case, and the beast was not able to pursue further, then he would set up such a roaring noise, that every Indian hearing it would tremble. This animal preyed on every beast he could lay hold of; he would catch and kill the largest bears and devour them; while bears were plenty, the Indians had not so much to dread from him; but, when this was not the case, he would run about the woods, searching for the track or scent of hunters, following them up, and making prey of them. The women were so afraid of going out to work, that the men assembled to deliberate on the manner or plan of killing him. At, or near a lake (Hoosink), whence the water flowed two ways, one on the northern and the other on the southern end, this beast had his residence, of which the Indians were well informed. A resolute party, well provided with bows, arrows, and spears, made towards the lake; on a high perpendicular rock they stationed themselves, climbing up this rock by means of Indian ladders, and then drawing these after them. After being well fixed, and having taken up a number of stones, they began to imitate the voices and cries of the various beasts of the woods, and even that of children, to decoy him thither. Having spent some days without success, a detached party took a stroll to some distance from the rock. Before they had reached the rock again, this beast had got scent, and was in full pursuit of them; yet they reached it before he arrived. When he came to it, he was in great anger, and sprung against it with his mouth wide open, grinning and seizing the flinty substance as if he would tear it to pieces. He had several times sprung nearly up. During all this time, numbers of arrows and stones were discharged at him, until his death was finally effected, and he dropped down and expired.
(2)The Mammoth.—p. 99.
"An Indian chief of the Delaware tribe, who visited the governor of Virginia, during the Revolution, informed him that it was a tradition handed down from their fathers, that in ancient times a herd of these tremendous animals came to the Big-bone Licks, and began a universal destruction of the bear, deer, elk, buffalo, and other animals, which had been created for the use of the Indians. The Great Man above, looking down and seeing this, was so enraged that he seized his lightning, descended on the earth, seated himself on a neighbouring mountain, on a rock, (on which his seat and the prints of his feet are to be seen to this day) and hurled his bolts among them, till the whole were slaughtered, except a big bull, who, presenting his forehead to the shafts, shook them off as they fell; but, missing one at length, it wounded him on the side, whereon, springing round, he bounded over the Ohio, the Wabash, and the Illinois, and finally over the great lakes, where he is living at this day."—Jefferson's Notes on Virginia.
(3)White People treated with great kindness.—p. 105.
In every instance the white people, on their first interview with the Indians, were treated well. Varrazano (seeHakluyt's Voyages, vol. ii, p. 295, 300, Lond. 1600.) upon his landing on the North American coast, (which was near Wilmington, North Carolina), found the natives very hospitable. "Great store of people," says he, "came to the sea side, and, seeing us approach, they fled away, and sometimes would stand still and look back, beholding us with great admiration; but afterwards, being animated and assured with signs that we made them, some of them came hard to the sea-side, seeming to rejoice much at the sight of us, and marvelling greatly at our apparel, shape, and whiteness; and shewed us, by sundry signs, where we might most commodiously come to land with our boat; offering us also of their victuals to eat." Again, at another place, one of the sailors who had landed with a few articles designed as presents, found himself treated in the kindest manner. "These guileless people conducted him to the shore, and held him some time in a close embrace, with great love, clapping him fast about, in order to evince their regret at parting."—See Varrazano's Letter in Hakluyt, and New York Hist. Collect.
The treatment experienced by Columbus was equally kind. When Americus Vesputius landed, he was treated as a superior Being; all the early voyagers, the Cabots, Jacques Cartier, Sir Humphry Gilbert, Hudson, speak of the unbounded kindness and hospitality they experienced from the Indians. In the first report of Sir Walter Raleigh's Captain, it is said that they were entertained with as much bounty as could possibly be devised. They found the people most gentle, loving, and faithful, void of all guile and treason, and such as live after the manner of the golden age.—See Hakluyt.
In the first sermon ever preached in New England, the preacher says of the Indians: "They have been to us like lambs, so kind, so submissive and trusty, as a man may truly say many Christians are not so kind and sincere. When we first came into this country, we were few, and many of us were sick, and many died by reason of the cold and wet, it being the depth of winter, and we having no houses nor shelter; yet, when there were not six able persons among us, and that they came daily to us by hundreds, with their sachems or kings, and might, in one hour, have made a dispatch of us, &c. yet they never offered us the least injury."—Sermonprinted 1622, reprinted Bost. 1815.
(4)Gave or sold them land.—p. 99.
At Stoke Pogis, Buckinghamshire, the seat of John Penn, Esq. the grandson of the founder of Pennsylvania, is preserved a portion of the trunk of a tree, supported on a marble base. On a brass plate is this inscription:
"This part of the great elm, under which the treaty was held, A. D. 1681, between Penn and the first inhabitants of America, in the neighbourhood of Philadelphia, and which was blown down A. D. 1810, is a present from some of the Society of Friends or Quakers, residing in Pennsylvania."
It is added: "The tree was in some danger during the American war, while the British army was in possession of that city, it being often necessary to cut down the trees in its vicinity for firing. But the late General Simcoe, who had the command of the district in which it grew, was induced, by his esteem for the character of William Penn, and the history connected with it, to order a guard of British soldiers to protect it from the axe."
By the side are some portraits of the Indian chiefs who signed the following deed:
"This indenture witnesseth, that we, Packenah, Jaultham Jickals, Partsequolt, Jerois Essepimank, Felktroy, Hekellappace, Eromas, Macloah, Wissy Powy, Indian kings, sackmakers, right owners of all lands from Quing Quingus, called Duck Creek, all along by the west side of Delaware river, and so between the said creeks backwards as far as a man can ride in two days with a horse, for and in consideration of these following goods, and as paid in hand and secured by William Penn, proprietary and governor of the province of Pennsylvania and territories thereof; viz. 20 guns, 20 fathoms matchcoat, 20 fathoms stroud-water, 20 blankets, 20 kettles, 20 lbs. of powder, 100 bars of lead, 40 tomahawks, 100 knives, 40 pairs of stockings, 1 barrel of beer, 20 lbs. of red lead, 100 fathoms of wampum, 30 glass bottles, 30 pewter spoons, 100 awl-blades, 300 tobacco-pipes, 100 hands of tobacco, 20 tobacco-tongs, 20 steels, 300 flints, 30 pair of scissars, 30 combs, 60 looking-glasses, 200 needles, 1 skipple of salt, 30 lbs. of sugar, 8 gallons of molasses, 20 tobacco-boxes, 100 jews' harps, 20 hoes, 30 gimblets, 30 wooden screw boxes, 100 strings of beads; do hereby acknowledge, &c. &c. Given under our hand at Newcastle, 2d day of the 8th month, 1685."
The above is certified to be a true copy taken from the original, in Dec. 1813, by Ephraim Morton, of Washington, Pennsylvania, formerly a clerk in the land-office.