Part 3

Colonel Dudley, governor of Massachusetts, in the beginning of the last century, had a number of workmen employed in building him a house on his plantation; and one day as he was looking at them, he observed a stout Indian, who, though the weather was very cold, was a naked as well as an idle spectator. ‘Hark ye, friend,’ said the governor, ‘why don’t you work like these men, and get clothes to cover you?’ ‘And why you no work, governor?’ replied the Indian. ‘I work,’ answered the governor, putting his finger on his forehead, ‘with my head, and therefore need not work with my hands.’ ‘Well,’ replied the Indian, ‘and if I would work, what have you for me to do?’ ‘Go kill me a calf,’ said the governor, ‘and I will give you a shilling.’ The Indian did so. The governor asked him why he did not skin and dress it. ‘Calf dead, governor—give me my shilling; give me another,’ said the Indian, ‘and I will skin and dress it.’ This was complied with. The Indian then went to a tavern with his two shillings, and soon spending one for rum, returned to the governor, saying, ‘Your shilling bad, the man no take it.’ The governor believing him, gave him another; but soon returning in the same manner, with the second, the governor discerned his roguery; however, he exchanged that also, reserving his resentment for a proper opportunity. To be prepared for it, the governor wrote a letter directed to the keeper of Bridewell, in Boston, requesting him to take the bearer and give him a sound whipping. This he kept in his pocket, and in the course of a few days the Indian came again to stare at the workmen; the governor took no notice of him for some time, but at length taking the letter out of his pocket, and calling the Indian to him, said, ‘I will give you half a crown if you will carry this letter to Boston.’ The Indian closed with his proposal, and set out on his journey. He had not gone far, before he met with another Indian in the employ of the governor, to whom he gave the letter, and told him that the governor had sent him to meet him, and to bid him return with that letter to Boston, as soon as he possibly could.

The poor fellow carried it with great diligence, and received a severe flogging for his pains; at the news of which, the governor was not a little astonished on his return. The other Indian came no more; but, after the lapse of some months, at a meeting with some of his nation, the governor saw him there among the rest, and asked him how he durst serve him such a trick? The Indian looking him full in the face, and putting his forefinger to his forehead, replied, ‘_Head work! governor, head work!_’

MAGNANIMITY AND DISINTERESTED GENEROSITY:

WITH STRIKING TRAITS IN THE SAVAGE CHARACTER.

The Pawnee Loups (Wolf Pawnees) a tribe of Missouri savages, lately exhibited the anomaly among the American aborigines of a people addicted to the superstitious rite of offering human victims, in propitiation of ‘_Venus, the Great Star_.’ The inhuman ceremony was annually performed at the period immediately preceding their horticultural operations, in order to insure a bountiful return from the earth:—the neglect of which duty, it was believed, would occasion a total failure of crops. To obviate, therefore, a national calamity so formidable, any person was at liberty to offer up a prisoner, of either sex, whom the fortune of war had placed in his power.

The devoted individual was clad in the gayest attire, pampered with a profusion of the choicest food, and constantly attended by the conjurers, alias priests, who anticipated all his wants—cautiously concealed from him the real object of their sedulous attentions—and endeavoured to preserve his mind in a state of cheerful composure:—with the view of promoting obesity, and thus rendering the sacrifice more acceptable to their Ceres.

When the victim was sufficiently fattened, a day was appointed for the sacrifice, that all might attend the celebration. In the presence of the assembled multitude, he was bound to a cross; a solemn dance was performed; and, after certain ceremonies, the warrior who had captured him, cleft his head with a tomahawk; and, at the same moment, numerous arrows were discharged at the body.

It appears, this barbarous rite has lately been abolished. _Latelesha_, or Knife Chief, principal of the nation, having long regarded this sacrifice as cruel and unnecessary, had vainly endeavoured to wean his countrymen from the observance of it. At length an Iotan woman, brought captive into the village, was doomed to the Great Star. Having undergone the necessary treatment, she was bound to the cross. At this critical juncture, _Petalesharoo_, son of _Latelesha_, stepped forward, and declared, that it was his father’s wish to abolish a custom so inhuman; that, for his part, he was determined to release the victim, at the risk of his life. He now cut the cords that bound her, carried her swiftly through the crowd, and placed her on a horse; mounted another himself, and conveyed her beyond the reach of pursuit.

Notwithstanding the success of this enterprise, it was reserved for another display of the firmness of this young warrior, to abolish the sanguinary sacrifice—we hope for ever. The succeeding spring, a Spanish boy was captured, and confided, by the warrior who took him, to the priests, to undergo the usual preparation for sacrifice. The Knife Chief consulted with his son how to avoid the repetition of the horrible rite. “_I_ will rescue the boy,” said _Petalesharoo_, “as a warrior ought—by force.” But the father, unwilling that his son should again expose himself to imminent danger, devised other means for rescuing the devoted victim:—that is, by ransom. For this purpose he repaired to a Mr. Pappon, then trading in the village, who generously contributed a quantity of merchandize. Other contributions were added by the Knife Chief himself, and by Petalesharoo, and other Indians. The whole was laid up in a heap, in the Chieftain’s lodge, and the warrior was summoned to attend.

Latelesha, armed with his war-club, commanded the warrior to accept of the merchandize, as a ransom for the boy, or prepare for instant death. The warrior refused to comply: the chief flourished his club in the air. “Strike!” said Petalesharoo, “I will meet the vengeance of his friends.” But the more politic Chief preferred adding to the mass of merchandize a few more articles, in order to give the warrior another opportunity of complying, without breaking his word. The expedient succeeded. The goods were reluctantly accepted; the boy was liberated, and afterwards conducted to St. Louis by the traders. The merchandize was sacrificed in his place: the cloth was cut in shreds, and suspended on poles, and many of the valuables were consumed by fire, to appease and propitiate the Indian Ceres.

TECUMSEH, WHEN A YOUTH.

Tecumseh was one of the most remarkable men that has ever figured in our aboriginal history. He gained an ascendancy over the minds of his countrymen entirely by the commanding force of his character, and the persuasive power of his eloquence. These instruments enabled him to produce a degree of union and combination among the North-western tribes, by no means less remarkable than the confederacies which signalized the times of king Philip and of Pontiac. His brother, the prophet, was a pusillanimous driveller, compared with Tecumseh; and exerted all his influence by addressing the superstitious fears of his countrymen; whereas the great warrior addressed himself to the higher principles of their nature, and made successful appeals to their reason, and even to their humanity. Of the last we have a signal example in his arresting the massacre of the American prisoners at Fort Meigs.

It has somewhere been observed, that “every circumstance relating to this extraordinary man will be read with interest.” We believe it, and therefore proceed with the following account, which appeared in a western periodical of 1826.

“About thirty years ago (as the writer received the narrative from Captain Thomas Bryan, of Kentucky) the said Bryan was employed as a surveyor of the Virginia Military Lands, northwest of the Ohio river. While engaged in completing a chain of surveys, extending from the head waters of Brush Creek to those of Paint Creek (now the central part of the State of Ohio), his provisions became scant, and at length entirely exhausted. He directed his hunter—who had been unsuccessful on a recent excursion—to make another attempt to procure subsistence, and to meet him at a particular point then designated; where, after closing the labour of the day, he should encamp with his chain-men and marker.

“Towards evening, the men became exhausted with hunger. They were in the heart of a solitary wilderness, and every circumstance was calculated to produce the greatest dejection of spirit. After making great exertions to reach the point designated, where they were to encamp upon their arrival, they met their hunter, who had been again unsuccessful. Feeling for himself and his comrades every emotion of a noble heart, he was alarmed for their situation. The hunter declared he had used every exertion in pursuit of game, but all his attempts were of no avail; that the whole forest appeared to him to be entirety destitute both of birds and beasts! Under these awful apprehensions of starvation, he knew that it would be a vain attempt to reach the settlement;—he trembled, and shed tears. Captain Bryan, at this critical juncture, felt his spirits roused at the reflection of their desperate situation; he thrust his jacob-staff in the earth, and ordered his men to prepare a camp, and make a good fire; he seizes the gun and ammunition of the unsuccessful hunter, and darted forth in pursuit of game. The weather had become exceedingly cold, for it was in the depth of winter—every rivulet was bound in ice. He had not proceeded far before he was gratified with the cheering sight of three elks, making towards him. He succeeded in killing two, and, shortly after, a bear. He now called for his men, and ordered his game to be carried to the camp. No one, but those similarly situated, can conceive the feelings excited on such an occasion.

But, perilous as the situation of the surveyor and his party might appear, there were others who were threatened with the like appalling distress. Three or four Indians, who had been out on a hunting excursion, hearing the report of Captain Bryan’s gun, made immediately in that direction, and had arrived at the camp before Bryan returned. On his appearance there, they informed him, as well as they could (some of them speaking a little English), of their wretched situation. They told him that, for three days, their whole party had subsisted on one skunk, and that was exhausted. They described the absence of the game, in the language of the hunter, as if “the whole forest was entirely destitute both of _birds_ and _beasts_.” They were informed by Captain Bryan, that he had plenty for himself, his men, and themselves; desired them to fix their camp, make a good fire, and assist his men in flaying the bear and elks, which were now brought into camp— and then to cut, carve, and cook for themselves. Their very looks were expressive of the joy they now felt for a deliverance so unexpected—nor did they spare the provisions. Their hunger was such, that, as soon as one round was served, another—another—and another, in succession—was greedily devoured.

A fine-looking, tall, dignified savage, then approached the surveyor’s camp—rather young in appearance than otherwise. He very gracefully stepped up to Captain Bryan (who was now reposing in his camp, on account of rheumatism, occasioned by his recent exposure), and informed him, that the old man in his camp was a Chief; that he felt under great obligations to the Great and Good Spirit for so signal an interposition in their favour; that he was about to make a prayer, and address the Good Spirit, and thank him: that it was the custom, on such occasions, for the Indians to stand up in their camp; and that his Chief requested the captain and his men, to conform, in like manner, by standing up in _their_ camp. The captain replied, that his men would all conform, and order should be preserved; but, as for himself, his affliction would compel him to keep his seat—but this must not be construed into disrespect. The captain remarked to me, that he was not himself a religious character, though a man of feeling.

“The old Chief raised himself upon his feet, as did those around him; and, lifting up his hands, commenced his prayer and thanksgiving with an audible voice. And such an address to Deity, on such an occasion—as far as I could understand him—I never before heard flow from mortal lips! The tone—the modulation of his voice—the gestures—all corresponded to make a very deep impression upon us. In the course of his thanksgiving—as I gathered from the Indians—he recapitulated the doleful situation in which they were so recently placed—the awful horrors of starvation, with which they were threatened—the vain attempts they had made to procure food, until He, the Great and Good Spirit, had sent that good White man, and had crowned his exertions with success; and so directed him and them to meet, and to find plenty.” Who can fully describe the abundant overflowings of a grateful heart? He continued in this vehement strain for about half an hour, “when,” remarked Captain B., “my own men reflecting on their own recent situation, retrospecting what had taken place, and beholding the pious gratitude of a ‘Child of the Forest,’ feeling the same sensations, they were melted into tenderness—if not into tears.”

The person who so gracefully addressed Captain Bryan, in behalf of his Chief, was TECUMSEH.

INDIAN LOGIC.[6]

A few years since, whilst the mistaken zeal of many good men, led them to think that their red brethren of the forest might be Christianized before they were civilized,—a missionary was sent out among them to convert them to the Christian faith. The missionary was unfortunately one of those preachers who delight in speculative and abstruse doctrines, and who teach the inefficacy of all human exertions in obtaining salvation. He called the Indians together to hear what he called the Gospel. The Sachem or Chief of the tribe to which he was sent, came with the rest. The missionary in the course of his sermon, (which was upon the very simple and intelligible doctrine of _election_) undertook to prove, that some were made to be saved, and some to be damned, without any regard to their good or bad conduct. As an illustration of his doctrine, he cited the case of Jacob and Esau, and attempted to show that God loved the one and hated the other before either of them was born. The Sachem heard him attentively, and after meeting invited him to his wigwam. After some conversation, the Sachem thus addressed the Missionary: “Sir, me tell you a story: My wife have two boys, twins; both of them as pretty as the two you tell me about to-day. One of them she love and feed him; the other she let lie on the ground crying. I tell her take him up, or he die. She no mind me. Pretty soon he die. Now what shall I do to her?”—Why, said the Missionary, she ought to be hung!—“Well,” said the Sachem, “then you go home and hang your God, for you say he do just so. You no preach any more here, unless you preach more good than this.” The Missionary finding himself amongst a people too enlightened to give credence to his narrow and heart-revolting principles, thought it expedient to seek a new field of labor.

THE INDIAN AND THE DUTCH CLERGYMAN.

A Dutch clergyman in the then province of New York, 1745, asked an Indian, whom he had baptized, whether he had been in Shekomeko, and had heard the Moravian missionary preach, and how he liked him? The Indian answered, ‘That he had been there, and had attended to the missionary’s words, and liked to hear them; that he would rather hear the missionary than him, for when the former spoke, it was as though his words laid hold of his heart, and a voice within said, ‘that is truth;’ but that _he_ was always playing about the truth, and never came to the point. That he had no love for their souls, for when he had once baptized them, he let them run wild, never troubling himself any further about them. That he acted much worse than one who planted Indian corn; for, added he, ‘the planter sometimes goes to see whether his corn grows or not.’

“INDIAN, WHO IS YOUR CAPTAIN?”

An English captain, in the year 1759, who was beating up for recruits in the neighbourhood of Bethlehem, met one day a Moravian Indian, and asked him whether ‘he had a mind to be a soldier.’ ‘No,’ answered he, ‘I am already engaged.’ ‘Who is your captain?’ asked the officer. ‘I have a very brave and excellent captain,’ replied the Indian, ‘his name is Jesus Christ; Him will I serve as long as I live: my life is at his disposal;’ upon which the British officer suffered him to pass unmolested.

INDIAN BON MOT.

One of the Moravian Indians who had been baptized by the name of Jonathan, meeting some white people, who had entered into so violent a dispute about baptism and the holy communion, that they at last proceeded to blows—‘These people,’ said he, ‘know nothing of our Saviour; for they speak of Him as we do of a strange country.’

INDIAN FIDELITY.

Some time after the commencement of the Revolutionary war, when the northern Indians were beginning to make inroads on the people living on the east side of the Ohio river, General O’Hara having come out to the upper Moravian town, on the Muskingum, on business, and there taken lodging with a respectable and decent family of Indians in the village—I had one evening scarcely laid down to sleep when I was suddenly roused from my bed by an Indian runner, (or messenger) who in the night had been sent to me, 9 miles, with the following verbal message: “My friend, see that our friend O’Hara, now at your town, be immediately taken off to the settlement of white people, avoiding all paths leading to that river. Fail not in taking my advice, for there is no time to lose—and hear my son further on the subject.”

The fact was, that eleven warriors from Sandusky, were far advanced on their way to take or murder O’Hara; who at break of day would be at this place for the purpose. I immediately sent for this gentleman, and told him that I would furnish him with a conductor, on whom he might depend, and having sent for Anthony, (otherwise called Luke Holland) informed him of the circumstance and requested his services; he (the Indian) wished first to know, whether my friend placed _confidence_ in him, and trusted to his fidelity; which question being answered by O’Hara himself, and to his full satisfaction; he replied, ‘well, our lives cannot be separated! we must stand or fall together! but take courage, for no enemy shall discover us!’

The Indian then took Mr. O’Hara through the woods, and arriving within a short distance of the Ohio river, pointed out to him a hiding place, until he, by strolling up and down the river, should discover white people on the opposite shore; when finally observing a house where two white men were cleaning out a canoe for use, he hurried back to bring on his friend, who, when near the spot, advised his Indian conductor to hide himself, knowing those people to be bad men, he feared they might kill him, for his services. The Indian finally seeing his friend safe across the river, returned and made report thereof.

The young Indian, who had been the bearer of the message from his father to me, had immediately returned on seeing O’Hara off, in order to play a further deception on the war party, for the purpose of preventing them even from going to our town, fearing, that if there, and not finding their object, they might probably hunt for his track, and finding this, pursue him. He indeed effected his purpose so completely, that while they were looking for him in one direction, his conductor was taking him off in another.

The father of the young lad, who was the principal cause that O’Hara’s life had been saved, had long been admired by all who knew him for his _philanthropy_; on account of which the traders had given him the name of “_the gentleman_.” Otherwise this Indian was not in connection with the Christian Indian Society, though a friend to them. He lived with his family retired and in a decent manner.

While I feel a delight in offering to the relatives and friends of the deceased, as also to the public, this _true_ and _faithful_ picture of Indian _fidelity_—I regret that, on necessarily having had to recur to the names ‘Anthony’ and ‘Luke Holland,’ I am drawn from scenes of pleasure, to crimes of the _blackest hue_. The very Indian just named, who at that time joyfully reported to me his having conducted his friend out of danger, to a place of safety, some years after approached me with the doleful news that every one of his children, (all minors) together with his hoary headed parents, _had been murdered by the white people_, at Gradenhutten, on the Muskingum.

JOHN HECKELWELDER.

INDIAN HOSPITALITY.

I can give, says Golden, in his history of the five Indian Nations, two strong instances of the hospitality of the Mohawks, which fell under my own observation; and which will show, that they have the very same notion of hospitality which we find in the ancient poets. When I was last in the Mohawk’s country, the sachems told me that they had an Englishman among their people, a servant who had run away from his master in New York. I immediately told them they must deliver him up. ‘No,’ they answered, ‘we never serve any man so, who puts himself under our protection.’ On this I insisted on the injury they did thereby to his master: they allowed it might be an injury, and replied, ‘Though we will never deliver him up, we are willing to pay the value of the servant to the master.’ Another man made his escape from the jail in Albany, where he was in prison on an execution of debt: the Mohawks received him, and, as they protected him against the sheriff and officers they not only paid the debt for him, but gave him land over and above, sufficient for a good farm, whereon he lived when I was last there.

KINDNESS OF AN INDIAN HUSBAND.

There was a famine in the land, and a sick Indian woman expressed a great desire for a mess of Indian corn. Her husband having heard that a trader at Lower Sandusky had a little, set off on horseback for that place, one hundred miles distant, and returned with as much corn as filled the crown of his hat, for which he gave his horse in exchange, and came home on foot, bringing his saddle back with him.

INDIAN RECORDS.