There is no other land like thee, No dearer shore; Thou art the shelter
of the free; The home, the port of liberty Thou hast been, and shall
ever be Till time is o'er. Ere I forget to think upon My land, shall
mother curse the son She bore.
--Percival.
The independent, not to say controlling, manner of Peter, would seem
to put all remonstrances and arguments at defiance, Le Bourdon soon had
occasion to see that both the missionary and the corporal submitted
to his wishes, and that there was no use in gainsaying anything he
proposed. In all matters he did as he pleased; his two companions
submitting to his will as completely as if one of them had seen in this
supposed child of Israel, Joshua, the son of Nun, and the other even
Aaron, the high-priest, himself.
Peter's preparations were soon made. Everything belonging to the
missionary and the corporal was removed from the canoe, which then
contained only the extra clothing and the special property of the Indian
himself. As soon as ready, the latter quietly and fearlessly paddled
away, his canoe going easily and swiftly down before the wind. He had no
sooner got clear of the rice, than the bee-hunter and Margery ran away
to the eminence, to watch his movements, and to note his reception among
the Pottawattamies. Leaving them there, we shall accompany the canoe, in
its progress toward the northern shore.
At first, Peter paddled quietly on, as if he had no other object
before him than the passage of the river. When quite clear of the
rice, however, he ceased, and undid his bundle of clothes, which were
carefully put away in the knapsack of a soldier. From this repository of
his effects, the chief carefully drew forth a small bundle, on opening
which, no less than seven fresh human scalps appeared. These he arranged
in order on a wand-like pole, when, satisfied with the arrangement,
he resumed the paddle. It was apparent, from the first, that the
Pottawattamies on the north shore had seen the strange canoe when it
entered the river, and they now collected in a group, at the ordinary
landing beneath the chiente, to await its approach. Peter ceased his
own exertion, as soon as he had got within a hundred yards of the beach,
took the scalp-pole in his hand, arose, and permitted the canoe to drift
down before the wind, certain it would take the desired direction, from
the circumstance of his having placed it precisely to windward of
the landing. Once or twice he slowly waved the pole in a way to draw
attention to the scalps, which were suspended from its end, each obvious
and distinct from its companions.
Napoleon, when he returned from the campaign of Austerlitz; or
Wellington, when he entered the House of Commons to receive the thanks
of its speaker, on his return from Spain; or the chief of all the
battles of the Rio Bravo del Norte; or him of the valley of Mexico,
whose exploits fairly rival those of Cortes himself, could scarcely be a
subject of greater interest to a body of spectators, assembled to do
him honor, than was this well-known Indian, as he drew near to the
Pottawattamies, waving his scalps, in significant triumph! Glory, as the
homage paid by man to military renown is termed, was the common impulse
with them all. It is true, that, measured by the standards of reason
and right, the wise and just might find motives for appreciating the
victories of those named differently from the manner in which they are
usually regarded through the atmosphere of success; but in the common
mind it was all glory, alike. The name of “Onoah” passed in murmurs of
admiration, from mouth to mouth; for, as it appeared, the person of this
renowned Indian was recognized by many on the shore, some time ere he
reached it himself.
Crowsfeather, and the other chiefs, advanced to meet the visitor; the
young men standing in the background, in respectful admiration. Peter
now stepped from the canoe, and greeted each of the principal men with
the courteous gravity of a savage. He shook hands with each, calling
one or two by name, a proof of the parties having met before; then
the following dialogue occurred. All spoke in the tongue of the
Pottawattamies, but, as we have had occasion to remark on previous
occasions, it is to be presumed that the reader would scarcely be able
to understand what was said, were we to record it, word for word, in the
language in which it was uttered. In consequence of this difficulty, and
for other reasons to which it may not be necessary to allude, we shall
endeavor to translate that which passed, as closely as the English
idioms will permit us so to do.
“My father is very welcome!” exclaimed Crowsfeather, who, by many
degrees, exceeded all his companions in consideration and rank. “I see
he has taken many scalps as is his practice, and that the pale-faces are
daily getting to be fewer. Will the sun ever rise on that day when their
wigwams will look like the branches of the oak in winter? Can my father
give us any hope of seeing that hour?”
“It is a long path from the salt-lake out of which the sun rises, to
that other salt-lake in which it hides itself at night. The sun sleeps
each night beneath water, but it is so hot that it is soon dried when it
comes out of its bed in the morning. This is the Great Spirit's doings,
and not ours. The sun is his sun; the Indians can warm themselves by it,
but they cannot shorten its journey a single tomahawk handle's length.
The same is true of time; it belongs to the Manitou, who will lengthen
or shorten it, as he may see fit. We are his children, and it is our
duty to submit. He has not forgotten us. He made us with his own hand,
and will no more turn us out of the land than a father will turn his
child from the wigwam.”
“We hope this is so; but it does not seem thus to out poor weak eyes,
Onoah. We count the pale-faces, and every summer they grow fast as the
grass on the prairies. We can see more when the leaf falls than when
the tree is in bud; and, then, more when the leaf is in bud than when
it falls. A few moons will put a town where the pine stood, and wigwams
drive the wolves from their homes. In a few years we shall have nothing
but dogs to eat, if the pale-face dogs do not eat us.”
“Squaws are impatient, but men know how to wait. This land was given to
the red man by the Great Spirit, as I have often told you, my children;
if he has let in the pale-faces for a few winters, it is to punish us
for having done wrong. Now that we are sorry for what we have done, he
will help us to drive away the strangers, and give us the woods again
to hunt in by ourselves. Have not messengers from our Great Father in
Montreal been among the Pottawattamies to strengthen their hearts?”
“They are always whispering in the ears of our tribes. I cannot remember
the time when whispers from Montreal have not been among us. Their
blankets are warm, their fire-water is strong, their powder is good,
and their rifles shoot well; but all this does not stop the children of
Uncle Sam from being more at night than they were in the morning. The
red men get tired of counting them. They have become plentier than the
pigeons in the spring. My father has taken many of their scalps, but the
hair must grow after his knife, their scalps are so many.”
“See!” rejoined Peter, lowering his pole so that all might examine his
revolting trophies, “these come from the soldiers at the head of the
lake. Blackbird was there with his young men; no one of them all got as
many scalps! This is the way to stop the white pigeon from flying over
us in such flocks as to hide and darken the sun.”
Another murmur of admiration passed through the crowd, as each young
warrior bent forward to count the number of the scalps, and to note,
by signs familiar to themselves, the ages, sex, and condition of the
different victims. Here was another instance among a hundred others of
which they had heard, of the prowess of the mysterious Onoah, as well
as of his inextinguishable hatred of the race, that was slowly, but
unerringly, supplanting the ancient stock, causing the places that once
knew the people of their tribes “to know them no more.” As soon as this
little burst of feeling had subsided, the conversation went on.
“We have had a pale-face medicine-man among us, Onoah,” continued
Crowsfeather, “and he has so far blinded us that we know not what to
think.”
The chief then recounted the leading events of the visit of the
bee-hunter to the place, stating each occurrence fairly, as he
understood it, and as fairly confessing that even the chiefs were at a
loss to know what to make of the affair. In addition to this account,
he gave the mysterious Onoah the history of the prisoner they had taken,
the death of Elks-foot, their intention to torture that very morning the
Chippewa they had captured, and his flight, together with the loss of
their young man, and the subsequent escape of their unknown enemies,
who had taken away all of their own canoes. How far the medicine-man had
anything to do with the other events of his narrative, Crowsfeather very
candidly admitted he could not even conjecture. He was still at a loss
whether to set down the conjurer for a pretender, or as a real oracle.
Peter, however, was less credulous even than the chiefs. He had his
superstitious notions, like all uneducated men, but a clear head and
quick intellect placed him far above the weaknesses of the red man
in general. On receiving a description of the person of the unknown
“medicine-man,” he at once recognized the bee-hunter. With an Indian to
describe, and an Indian to interpret or apply, escape from discovery was
next to impossible.
Although Onoah, or the “Tribeless,” as he was also frequently called
by the red men, from the circumstance of no one's knowing to what
particular section of the great Indian family he belonged, perfectly
understood that the bee-hunter he had seen on the other shore was the
individual who had been playing the part of a conjurer among these
Pottawattamies, he was very careful not to reveal the fact to
Crowsfeather. He had his own policy, and was fully aware of all the
virtue there is in mystery and reserve. With an Indian, these qualities
go farther even than with a white man; and we of the Caucasian race are
not entirely exempt from the folly of being deceived by appearances. On
the present occasion Peter kept his knowledge to himself, still leaving
his red brethren in doubt and uncertainty; but he took care to be right
in his own opinions by putting as many questions as were necessary for
that purpose. Once assured of this fact, he turned to other subjects of
even greater interest to himself and his companions.
The conference which now took place between the “Tribeless” and
Crowsfeather was held apart, both being chiefs of too much importance
to be intruded on at a moment like that. The two chiefs exhibited a very
characteristic picture while engaged in this conference. They seated
themselves on a bank, and drawing their legs partially under them, sat
face to face, with their heads less than two feet asunder, occasionally
gesticulating with dignity, but each speaking in his turn with studied
decorum. Crowsfeather was highly painted, and looked fierce and warlike,
but Onoah had nothing extraordinary about him, with the exception of
the decorations and dress already described, unless it might be his
remarkable countenance. The face of this Indian ordinarily wore a
thoughtful cast, an expression which it is not unusual to meet with in
a savage; though at times it lighted up, as it might be with the heat of
inward fires, like the crater giving out its occasional flames beneath
the hues of a saddened atmosphere. One accustomed to study the human
face, and to analyze its expressions, would possibly have discovered in
that countenance lines of deep artifice, together with the traces of
a profound and constitutional enthusiasm. He was bent, at that
very moment, on a scheme worthy of the loftiest spirit living; the
regeneration and union of the people of his race, with a view to recover
the possessions they had yielded to the pale-faces; but it was a project
blended with the ferocity and revenge of a savage-noble while ferocious.
Not idly had the whites, scattered along that frontier, given the
sobriquet of “Scalping” to Peter, As his pole now showed, it had been
earned in a hundred scenes of bloody vengeance; and so great had been
his success, that the warrior, prophet, and councillor, for all
these characters were united in his single person, began to think the
attainment of his wishes possible. As a matter of course, much ignorance
of the power of the Anglo-Saxon race on this continent was blended with
these opinions and hopes; but it was scarcely an ignorance exceeding
that of certain persons of far higher pretensions in knowledge, who live
in another hemisphere, and who often set themselves up as infallible
judges of all things connected with man and his attributes. Peter, the
“Tribeless,” was not more in fault than those who fancied they saw the
power of this great republic in the gallant little band collected at
Corpus Christi, under its indomitable chief, and who, march by march,
nay, foot by foot, as it might be, have perseveringly predicted the
halt, the defeat, the disasters, and final discomfiture, which it has
not yet pleased Divine Providence to inflict on this slight effort of
the young Hercules, as he merely moves in his cradle. Alas, the enemy
that most menaces the overthrow of this new and otherwise invincible
exhibition of human force, is within; seated in the citadel itself;
and must be narrowly watched, or he will act his malignant purpose, and
destroy the fairest hopes that ever yet dawned on the fortunes of the
human race!
The conference between the chiefs lasted fully an hour. Crowsfeather
possessed much of the confidence of Peter, and, as for Onoah, neither
Tecumseh, nor his brother the Prophet, commanded as much of the
respect of Crowsfeather as he did himself. Some even whispered that the
“Tribeless” was the individual who lay behind all, and that the others
named merely acted as he suggested, or advised. The reader will obtain
all the insight into the future that it is necessary now to give him,
by getting a few of the remarks made by the two colloquists, just before
they joined the rest of the party.
“My father, then, intends to lead his pale-faces on a crooked path, and
take their scalps when he has done with them,” said Crowsfeather, who
had been gravely listening to Peter's plans of future proceeding; “but
who is to get the scalp of the Chippewa?”
“One of my Pottawattamie young men; but not until I have made use of
him. I have a medicine-priest of the pale-faces and a warrior with me,
but shall not put their scalps on my pole until they have paddled
me further. The council is to be first held in the Oak Openings”--we
translate this term freely, that used by Peter meaning rather “the open
woods of the prairies”--“and I wish to show my prisoners to the chiefs,
that they may see how easy it is to cut off all the Yankees. I have now
four men of that people, and two squaws, in my power; let every red man
destroy as many, and the land will soon be clear of them all!”
This was uttered with gleamings of ferocity in the speaker's face, that
rendered his countenance terrible. Even Crowsfeather quailed a little
before that fierce aspect; but the whole passed away almost as soon as
betrayed, and was succeeded by a friendly and deceptive smile, that
was characteristic of the wily Asiatic rather than of the aboriginal
American.
“They cannot be counted,” returned the Pottawattamie chief, as soon as
his restraint was a little removed by this less terrific aspect of his
companion, “if all I hear is true. Blackbird says that even the squaws
of the pale-faces are numerous enough to overcome all the red men that
remain.”
“There will be two less, when I fasten to my pole the scalps of those
on the other side of the river,” answered Peter, with another of his
transient, but startling gleams of intense revenge. “But no matter, now:
my brother knows all I wish him to do. Not a hair of the head of any
of these pale-faces must be touched by any hand but mine. When the time
comes, the knife of Onoah is sure. The Pottawattamies shall have their
canoes, and can follow us up the river. They will find us in the
Openings, and near the Prairie Round. They know the spot; for the red
men love to hunt the deer in that region. Now, go and tell this to your
young men; and tell them that corn will not grow, nor the deer wait to
be killed by any of your people, if they forget to do as I have said.
Vengeance shall come, when it is time.”
Crowsfeather communicated all this to his warriors, who received it as
the ancients received the words of their oracles. Each member of the
party endeavored to get an accurate notion of his duty, in order that
he might comply to the very letter with the injunctions received. So
profound was the impression made among all the red men of the north-west
by the previous labors of the “Tribeless” to awaken a national spirit,
and so great was their dread of the consequences of disobedience, that
every warrior present felt as if his life were the threatened penalty of
neglect or disinclination to obey.
No sooner, however, had Crowsfeather got through with his communication,
than a general request was made that the problem of the whiskey-spring
might be referred to Onoah for solution. The young men had strong hopes,
not-withstanding all that had passed, that this spring might yet turn
out to be a reality. The scent was still there, strong and fragrant,
and they could not get rid of the notion that “fire-water” grew on that
spot. It is true, their faith had been somewhat disturbed by the manner
in which the medicine-man had left them, and by his failure to draw
forth the gushing stream which he had impliedly promised, and in a small
degree performed; nevertheless little pools of whiskey had been found on
the rock, and several had tasted and satisfied themselves of the quality
of the liquor. As is usual, that taste had created a desire for more, a
desire that seldom slumbered on an Indian palate when strong drinks were
connected with its gratification.
Peter heard the request with gravity, and consented to look into the
matter with a due regard to his popularity and influence. He had his own
superstitious views, but among them there did not happen to be one
which admitted the possibility of whiskey's running in a stream from the
living rock. Still he was willing to examine the charmed spot, scent the
fragrant odor, and make up his own estimate of the artifices by which
the bee-hunter had been practising on the untutored beings into whose
hand chance had thrown him.
While the young men eagerly pointed out the precise spots where the
scent was the strongest, Peter maintained the most unmoved gravity. He
did not kneel to smell the rocks, like the other chiefs, for this an
innate sense of propriety told him would be undignified; but he made
his observations closely, and with a keen Indian-like attention to every
little circumstance that might aid him in arriving at the truth. All
this time, great was the awe and deep the admiration of the lookers-on.
Onoah had succeeded in creating a moral power for himself among the
Indians of the northwest which much exceeded that of any other red man
of that region. The whites scarcely heard of him, knew but little of
his career, and less of his true character, for both were shrouded in
mystery. There is nothing remarkable in this ignorance of the pale-faces
of the time. They did not understand their own leaders; much less the
leaders of the children of the openings, the prairies, and the forest.
At this hour, what is really known by the mass of the American people of
the true characters of their public men? No nation that has any claim
to civilization and publicity knows less, and for several very obvious
reasons. The want of a capital in which the intelligence of the nation
periodically assembles and whence a corrected public opinion on all such
matters ought constantly to flow, as truth emanates from the collisions
of minds, is one of these reasons. The extent of the country, which
separates men by distances that no fact can travel over without
incurring the dangers of being perverted on the road, is another. But
the most fatal of al he influences that tend to mislead the judgment of
the American citizen, is to be found in the abuse of a machinery that
was intended to produce an exactly contrary effect. If the tongue was
given to man to communicate ideas to his fellows, so has philosophy
described it as “a gift to conceal his thoughts.” If the press was
devised to circulate truth, so has it been changed into a means of
circulating lies. One is easily, nay, more easily, sent abroad on
the four winds of the heavens than the other. Truth requires candor,
impartiality, honesty, research, and industry; but a falsehood, whether
designed or not, stands in need of neither. Of that which is the most
easily produced, the country gets the most; and it were idle to imagine
that a people who blindly and unresistingly submit to be put, as it
might be, under the feet of falsehood, as respects all their own public
men, can ever get very accurate notions of those of other nations.
Thus was it with Onoah. His name was unknown to the whites, except as
a terrible and much-dreaded avenger of the wrongs of his race. With
the red men it was very different. They had no “forked tongues” to make
falsehood take the place of truth; or if such existed they were not
believed. The Pottawattamies now present knew all about Tecumseh,
[Footnote: A “tiger stooping for his prey.”] of whom the whites had also
various and ample accounts. This Shawanee chief had long been active
among them, and his influence was extended far and near. He was a bold,
restless, and ingenious warrior; one, perhaps, who better understood
the art of war, as it was practised among red men, than any Indian then
living. They knew the name and person, also, of his brother Elkswatawa,
[Footnote: “A door opened.”] or the Prophet, whose name has also become
incorporated with the histories of the times. These two chiefs were
very powerful, though scarce dwelling regularly in any tribe; but their
origin, their careers, and their characters were known to all, as were
those of their common father, Pukeesheno, [Footnote: “I light from
fly--“] and their mother, Meethetaske.[Footnote: “A turtle laying her
eggs in the sand.”] But with Onoah it was very different. With him the
past was as much of a mystery as the future. No Indian could say even of
what tribe he was born. The totem that he bore on his person belonged
to no people then existing on the continent, and all connected with him,
his history, nation, and family, was conjecture and fancy.
It is said that the Indians have traditions which are communicated
only to a favored few, and which by them have been transmitted from
generation to generation. An enlightened and educated red man has quite
recently told us in person, that he had been made the repository of some
of these traditions, and that he had thus obtained enough of the history
of his race to be satisfied that they were not derived from the lost
tribes of Israel, though he declined communicating any more. It is so
natural to resort to secrecy in order to extend influence, that we can
have no difficulty In believing the existence of the practice; there
probably being no other reason why Free Masonry or Odd Fellowship should
have recourse to such an expedient, but to rule through the imagination
in preference to the judgment. Now Peter enjoyed all the advantages of
mystery. It was said that even his real name was unknown, that of Onoah
having been given in token of the many scalps he took, and that of
Wa-wa-nosh, which he also sometimes bore, having been bestowed on him
by adoption in consequence of an act of favor extended to him from an
Ojebway of some note, while that of Peter was clearly derived from the
whites. Some of his greatest admirers whispered that when the true name
of the “Tribeless” should get to be known, his origin, early career, and
all relating to him would at once become familiar to every red man.
At present, the Indians must rest content with what they saw and
understood. The wisdom of Wa-wa-nosh made itself felt in the councils;
his eloquence no speaker has equalled for ages; as for his vengeance on
the enemies of his race, that was to be estimated by the scalps he had
taken. More than this no Indian was to be permitted to know, until the
mission of this oracle and chief was completed.
Had one enlightened by the education of a civilized man been there, to
watch the movements and countenance of Peter as he scented the whiskey,
and looked in vain for the cause of the odor, and for a clew to the
mystery which so much perplexed the Pottawattamies, he would probably
have discovered some reason to distrust the sincerity of this remarkable
savage's doubts. If ever Peter was an actor, it was on that occasion.
He did not, in the least, fall into any of the errors of his companions;
but the scent a good deal confounded him at first. At length he came to
the natural conclusion, that this unusual odor was in some way connected
with the family he had left on the other shore; and from that moment his
mind was at ease.
It did not suit the views of Peter, however, to explain to the
Pottawattamies that which was now getting to be so obvious to himself.
On the contrary, he rather threw dust into the eyes of the chiefs, with
a view to bring them also under the influence of superstition. After
making his observations with unmoved gravity, he promised a solution
of the whole affair when they should again meet in the Openings, and
proposed to recross the river. Before quitting the shore Peter
and Crowsfeather had a clear understanding on the subject of their
respective movements; and, as soon as the former began to paddle up
against the wind, the latter called his young men together, made a short
address, and led them into the woods, as if about to proceed on a march
of length. The party, notwithstanding, did not proceed more than a mile
and a half, when it came to a halt, and lighted a fire in order to cook
some venison taken on the way.
When Peter reached the south shore, he found the whole group assembled
to receive him. His tale was soon told. He had talked with the
Pottawattamies, and they were gone. The canoes, however, must be carried
to the other shore and left there, in order that their owners might
recover their property when they returned. This much had Peter promised,
and his pale-face friends must help him to keep his word. Then he
pointed to the Openings as to their place of present safety. There they
would be removed from all immediate danger, and he would accompany them
and give them the countenance and protection of his name and presence.
As for going south on the lake, that was impossible, so long as the wind
lasted, and it was useless even could it be done. The troops had all
left Chicago, and the fort was destroyed.
Parson Amen and Corporal Flint, both of whom were completely deluded by
Peter, fancying him a secret friend of the whites, in consequence of his
own protestations to that effect and the service he had already rendered
them, in appearance at least, instantly acquiesced in this wily savage's
proposal. It was the best, the wisest, nay, the only thing that now
could be done. Mackinaw was gone, as well as Chicago, and Detroit must
be reached by crossing the peninsula, instead of taking the easier
but far more circuitous route of the lakes. Gershom was easily enough
persuaded into the belief of the feasibility, as well as of the
necessity, of this deviation from his original road, and he soon agreed
to accompany the party.
With le Bourdon the case was different. He understood himself and the
wilderness. For him the wind was fair, and there was no necessity for
his touching at Mackinaw at all. It is true, he usually passed several
days on that pleasant and salubrious island, and frequently disposed of
lots of honey there; but he could dispense with the visit and the sales.
There was certainly danger now to be apprehended from the Ottawas, who
would be very apt to be out on the lake after this maritime excursion
against the fort; but it was possible even to elude their vigilance. In
a word, the bee-hunter did not believe in the prudence of returning to
the Openings, but thought it by far the wisest for the whole party to
make the best of its way by water to the settlements. All this he urged
warmly on his white companions, taking them aside for that purpose, and
leaving Peter and Pigeonswing together while he did so.
But Parson Amen would as soon have believed that his old congregation in
Connecticut was composed of Philistines, as not to believe that the
red men were the lost tribes, and that Peter, in particular, was not
especially and elaborately described in the Old Testament. He had become
so thoroughly possessed by this crotchet as to pervert everything that
he saw, read, or heard, into evidence, of some sort or other, of the
truth of his notions. In this respect there was nothing peculiar in the
good missionary's weakness, it being a failing common to partisans of a
theory, to discover proofs of its truths in a thousand things in which
indifferent persons can find even no connection with the subject at all.
In this frame of mind the missionary would as soon think of letting go
his hold on the Bible itself, as think of separating from an Indian who
might turn out any day to be a direct representative of Abraham, and
Isaac, and Jacob. Not to speak irreverently, but to use language that
must be familiar to all, the well-meaning missionary wished to be in at
the death.
Corporal Flint, too, had great faith in Peter. It was a part of
the scheme of the savage to make this straight for-ward soldier an
instrument in placing many scalps in hit power; and though he had
designed from the first to execute his bloody office on the corporal
himself, he did not intend to do so until he had made the most of him
as a stool-pigeon. Here were four more pale-faces thrown in his power,
principally by means of the confidence he had awakened in the minds of
the missionary and the soldier; and that same confidence might be made
instrumental in adding still more to the number. Peter was a sagacious,
even a far-seeing savage, but he labored under the curse of ignorance.
Had his information been of a more extended nature, he would have seen
the utter fallacy of his project to destroy the pale-faces altogether,
and most probably would have abandoned it.
It is a singular fact that, while such men as Tecumseh, his brother the
Prophet, and Peter, were looking forward to the downfall of the republic
on the side of the forest, so many, who ought to have been better
informed on such a subject, were anxiously expecting, nay confidently
predicting it, from beyond the Atlantic. Notwithstanding these sinister
soothsayers, the progress of the nation has, by a beneficent Providence,
been onward and onward, until it is scarcely presumptuous to suppose
that even England has abandoned the expectation of classing this country
again among her dependencies. The fortunes of America, under God, depend
only on herself. America may destroy America; of that there is danger;
but it is pretty certain that Europe united could make no serious
impression on her. Favored by position, and filled with a population
that we have ever maintained was one of the most military in existence,
a truth that recent events are hourly proving to be true, it much
exceeds the power of all the enemies of her institutions to make any
serious impression on her. There is an enemy who may prove too much for
her; it exists in her bosom; and God alone can keep him in subjection,
and repress his desolation.
These were facts, however, of which Wa-wa-nosh, or Onoah, was as
ignorant as if he were an English or French minister of state, and had
got his notions of the country from English or French travellers, who
wished for what they predicted. He had heard of the towns and population
of the republic; but one gets a very imperfect notion of any fact of
this sort by report, unless previous experience has prepared the mind
to make the necessary comparisons, and fitted it to receive the images
intended to be conveyed. No wonder, then, that Peter fell into a mistake
common to those who had so many better opportunities of forming just
opinions, and of arriving at truths that were sufficiently obvious to
all who did not wilfully shut their eyes to their existence.