“Flaming piles, where'er he turned,
Cast a grim and dreadful light;
Like funereal lamps they burned
In the sepulchre of night.”
MONTGOMERY.
Some time had now elapsed since the exposition at the Haunted Cavern,
and the disciples of Elkswatawa were still zealously engaged in
disseminating his doctrines far and wide. Many converts were made,
although a warm opposition had been organized, by some of the chiefs
of the neighbouring tribes, who did not hesitate to denounce him as an
impostor,—to declare that his prophecies would prove false,—and who
exerted all their influence to destroy the ascendency which he was
fast attaining.
That Elkswatawa, who pretended to hold intercourse with the Great
Spirit, and only do his bidding, should in so short a time acquire a
more than ordinary ascendency over uncultivated minds, is not much to
be wondered at, when we reflect upon the peculiar situation of the
persons upon whom he operated. When we reflect that superstition was
with them a part of their education, and that they were suffering
under wrongs both real and imaginary, which created much excitement,
and rendered them eager for any change, however wild, which promised
to better their condition. When, also, we advert to the fact that his
doctrines at first were propagated with much gentleness, and required
the performance of duties which all were satisfied would conduce to
their general good, and which, several years after their first
propagation, had wrought so remarkable a change, as to create wonder
and astonishment both among the red men and white. By Elkswatawa alone
were the habits and manners of the Indians entirely changed, and good
order and sobriety made to prevail where but a few years before,
disorder, riots, and drunkenness were an every day occurrence. This
fact alone, that he, chiefly by his own exertions, had established a
new organization of society, and that upon principles of morality in
direct opposition to long established customs, is a proof of the vast
power he was enabled to wield. And the conception of the plan by the
brothers which was to give them so great a mastery over all the
wandering tribes;—their commencing with the propagation of doctrines
to which no one could object, and the deep policy which enabled them
to conceal their designs for so long a time, evince much wisdom and
profound sagacity.
Having gained an ascendency by mild measures, it was now necessary
that he should move a step farther, in order to develope more fully
his plans, and increase the influence he had already obtained. A
radical change as we have already observed, had been introduced among
the Indians, tending to better their condition; and so gentle had been
the means, and so unobjectionable the doctrines taught, that the
suspicions of the whites had not as yet been aroused. It is true, that
the traders, who were in the habit of selling spirit to the Indians,
and thereby amassing large sums of money, had often made complaints,
and stated that the intentions of the Prophet were hostile; but his
doctrines conflicted directly with their interests, and consequently,
their communications were disregarded. Moreover, up to this time, no
single act had been committed, calculated to create the least
suspicion; so far from it, the Prophet, on account of the favourable
changes he had introduced, had won the regard of most of the whites
along the frontier, and was looked upon by them in the most favourable
light. It would have been well for him and better still for the red
men, had he stopped here. But this would not have been in accordance
with the plan which he had formed with his brother, and which they had
prosecuted with so much untiring zeal and perseverance. So that
Elkswatawa now, in order to ascertain the amount of his influence,
began in the name of the Great Spirit to require sacrifices on the
part of his followers.
The first edict he issued, simply required that the fire in an Indian
lodge should never be permitted to go out under penalty of the
declared displeasure of the Great Spirit. Secondly, he ordered that no
Indian should suffer a dog to live, together with many other things,
too tedious to mention. To these which I have specified, ridiculous as
it may seem, it is stated that the most implicit obedience was paid by
all who ranked themselves as his followers. These sacrifices were,
however, of different kinds, and in themselves, but of little moment,
and were required merely that he might see whether or not obedience
would be paid to his orders.
This having been done, other changes were daily introduced, all
tending to increase the influence which he already wielded. Latterly
he had begun to dwell more on the necessity of a perfect union among
the tribes; indeed, it was now chiefly the burden of his song, and at
his request was urged with much zeal by all his agents, although they
themselves were ignorant of his ultimate intentions. Having now for
some time endeavoured to obtain a mastery over all the tribes, and
finding that the chief obstacle to the success of his plans was to be
found in the opposition of some neighbouring chiefs, he determined at
once to consult his brother as to the propriety of getting rid of
them; and with this view sought him immediately upon his return from a
wandering expedition.
“Thy moccasins are worn with travel, brother,” said Elkswatawa, “thy
path has led thee to far tribes; what say they of the Shawanee
Prophet?”
“I bring great joy,” said Tecumseh, “I have poured out words like a
rushing river, and the hearts of the red men are bleeding. I have
preached to them peace, but they dream of war; and were Tecumseh to
say, ‘come on,’ they would follow, though they know not whither.”
“My heart is glad,” said Elkswatawa. “But some of the red men grieve
me, they have placed logs in our path. We must remove them.”
“How?—what has happened?”—said Tecumseh.
“The chiefs of the Delawares and Wyandots have said,” replied
Elkswatawa, “that the words of the Prophet have no truth in them; that
he deceives the red men, and cannot do what he promises.”
“Ha!” said Tecumseh, “I warned you of this. You have placed the
Shawanees above the Delawares and Wyandots. It was wrong. But the
Prophet has spoken. His words must always seem straight, they must
never be changed.”
“No, brother; and he who says the Prophet speaks false, must die, or
the work we have begun will never be finished.”
“It would be well:—if they lie in our path, they must be taken away.
But how can this be?—they have friends, and are powerful.”
“I have sworn in my heart, they shall die,” said Elkswatawa, “I have
the means. Knowest thou the virtue of witchcraft?” His sides shook
with a low chuckling laugh, and he continued, “Our enemies are
witches, let them die as such, the Great Spirit orders it.”
“Witchcraft among the red men is like a large fire,” said Tecumseh,
“when once you kindle it; but how will you start it?”
“There are many red men,” replied Elkswatawa, “who say, Elkswatawa is
the true Prophet. Wherever I go, they follow. Whatever I order, they
do;—so far, good. When I preach again, I will attribute the misfortune
of the red men to witches or evil spirits, and the Great Spirit shall
order the red men to remove them from among them. At first, evil
spirits shall enter the bodies of those whom nobody cares for; they
shall die, and the Prophet will say the Great Spirit is glad. Then
they shall enter the bodies of those whom many hate, they shall die,
and the Great Spirit shall say he is pleased. Then will I pray and be
absent many nights, and the Great Spirit shall say to me that the
chiefs, our enemies, are witches. I will tell it to the red men; they
are excited, and once having tasted blood, will readily believe. I
will attribute to them the loss of our lands, I will show the working
of the evil spirit in all their actions. I will call them the friends
of the white men and show their names to the treaties. Will not this
do, Tecumseh?”—
“Thy wits are sharp,” replied Tecumseh. “But, brother, thou speakest
of the stake, as you would order a fire for a morning meal. I would
have your heart sorry at what you propose. The red men, not white, are
those whose deaths you seek; remember, we have often given them our
hands, we have smoked in their wigwams, and we have hunted the deer
and buffalo with them far out on the prairies. If our plans require
it, let your heart be sad.”
“Ha! brother,” cried the Prophet, “art thou white livered? Dost thou
talk of freeing thy country, when like a woman, thou dost sicken at
thought of the stake? If thou canst not open the veins of a sleeping
child, and lap its blood like a thirsty dog, I pray thee leave me; I
will kindle the torch of war, and lead our warriors on, until not a
tomahawk is left, which is not rusted red with the blood of the
whites.”
“And thou dost call me white livered, Elkswatawa,” said Tecumseh, his
frame dilating, and his eyes glowing with indignation, “thou hast said
so;—now did not the same current flow in our veins, and were we not
travelling the same path to the same place, and to reach it requires
that we should travel as friends, my tomahawk should drink thy blood,
base slanderer as thou art. What! because when the sky is clear, I
cannot dabble in the blood of the aged, nor derive pleasure from the
scalping of children, thou shouldst brand me as a coward—thou!
Elkswatawa! Thou art my brother, I must stop,—yet recollect this, when
the battle rages, if thou, Elkswatawa, wilt follow Tecumseh in the
fight, thy name shall be associated in future years with all that is
noble and daring in Indian warfare.” And saying this he began to walk
hurriedly to and fro.
While Tecumseh was delivering the above, the Prophet stood cowering
beneath his fierce glance, and appalled by the storm of passion he had
raised; at length he answered:
“Thy anger is strong, Tecumseh; it is a mighty wind, but Elkswatawa is
a blasted tree; the wind passes by, and harms him not. Elkswatawa did
not wish to touch the heart of his brother. When his brother is angry,
he wants it to be with the pale faces and not with him. We have
started upon a journey, and we have travelled a long way. We now find
our path stopped up. Shall we turn back, or shall we clear it out, and
go on? Elkswatawa says go on, clear it out; burn the red men who stop
it up, and our path will then be open to our journey's end. Let us do
this, brother, and then when they speak of the Prophet, they shall
fear and tremble, and when he orders they will obey.”
“Then be it so,” said Tecumseh, “I like it not, but, since our plans
require it, let it be done.”
“Tecumseh is dark to his brother, he cannot see through him. He wishes
to make the red men one people, and yet his heart is sorry, when a few
must be burned for the good of the many. Tecumseh's heart does not
pant for the blood of an enemy. Elkswatawa's heart is glad when an
enemy dies, be he white or red. He would drink up his blood as the
summer earth does the rain. Tecumseh likes not human blood, and the
stake is dreadful in his eyes.”
“Thou sayest the shedding of human blood is painful to me; thou
knowest me not, Elkswatawa; let it flow when the battle rages, and let
its source be the bleeding bodies of the white men. It might then rush
along like a mountain torrent gurgling and leaping over its rocky bed,
and in it I could bathe, or could stretch myself along its brink, and
sleep by its murmuring sound. But enough; let us each to his post, and
do his duty, you to practice witchcraft, and I to wander and preach to
the red men;”—then turning off, he left the Prophet to his own
meditations.
But a short time had elapsed since the above conference, when
witchcraft became a subject of general discussion among the red men,
and the Prophet having detailed his plans and wishes to some of his
immediate converts and followers, was soon after favoured with a
revelation of the will of the Great Spirit, which pointed out the evil
effects of witches, and attributed to them all the misfortunes of the
red men. This revelation was immediately detailed to his assembled
followers, who lost no time in seeking for the supposed witches, the
authors of all their misfortunes. The first act in the drama,
consisted in the execution of several persons of little note. By some
of his emissaries a charge of witchcraft was brought against several
old women who were known to have an undue quantity of roots in their
wigwams, and against whom a suspicion of witchcraft had before been
hinted. Witnesses were ready to prove all that was required, the
stakes were prepared, and they suffered death protesting before Heaven
their innocence, to the last moment. These trials, which were mere
mockeries, for the victims were always doomed to death when they were
marked out, generally took place in the presence of large crowds of
assembled spectators, served to create excitement, and at the same
time whet the native ferocity of the savages. These exhibitions were
followed by continual preachings, and revelations of the Great Spirit,
through the Prophet, in which he was pleased to express his
satisfaction at the executions which had already taken place.
The state of ferment and excitement had now arrived at the highest
pitch, and the red men having tasted of blood, like blood hounds
thirsted for more. Other persons of little note who were obnoxious to
the Prophet on account of having derided his doctrines, or to his
followers on account of personal differences, soon experienced the
same fate. Stakes were prepared in many of the neighbouring tribes,
and the awful and deadly denunciations of the Prophet against all who
were even supposed to be touched with witchcraft, gave to his
followers unlimited power over all whom they chose to accuse.
Witnesses to prove whatever the Prophet wished, were at his call, and
in the executions which had as yet taken place, it had so happened,
that all had been satisfied with the proof which had been adduced. The
possession of crooked pins, rusted nails, or roots were always fatal
to the possessor, and no difficulty was found in clandestinely placing
them about the persons of the accused. This is all literally true, and
the few who may be sceptical on the subject, I would refer to a
history of scenes somewhat similar, in New-England, where the actors
were civilized and enlightened. Here the actors were entirely
uneducated, addicted to superstition, and consequently formed of
materials more fit to be operated on.
The Prophet and his band were still going on with their work of
destruction, many victims, although none of them were chiefs, had
already suffered, and still the Great Spirit, through the Prophet,
enjoined them to prosecute the work they had begun, until no evil
spirit should lurk among the red men, and that then they would have
future days of untold happiness. He had now operated upon the band who
were with him, until a wish was law, and his emissaries had also
acquired much influence among the neighbouring tribes; when at the
close of an evening during the scenes we have described, he was
observed to retire alone into the forest at a distance from his camp,
where apparently in great trouble, he passed the night in prayer, and
in howling songs of vengeance; but against whom, no one knew, for they
dared not intrude upon the secrecy of his devotions. At the camp, his
followers were in the highest possible state of excitement, for they
knew that some matter of great interest occupied the Prophet, although
what it was, no one could tell, nor could they know until he should be
pleased to reveal to them the source of his sufferings. All believed
that he was holding communion with the Great Spirit, and waited with
anxious solicitude the coming of morn, when they believed that he
would reveal to them the nature of the intercourse he had held,
together with the wishes of the Great Spirit. The entire night was one
of anxiety and care, dark and undefined visions troubled the red men,
serving in a great measure to banish sleep, and if for a moment some
one, overpowered by fatigue, sank to rest, he was startled by the
restless howling of the Prophet, and arose more feverish and excited
than when he lay down.
But morning came, the voice of the Prophet was silent, and yet he
appeared not. The sun rose, and a lovelier sun never shed his lustre
over the wild woods—the birds sung praises to the God of day from the
neighbouring tree tops, and the dew was fast disappearing, when the
Prophet was seen with hurried steps striding along towards his
encampment. A wild shout burst forth, and many of his band ran eagerly
forward to meet him, and conducted him to his tent. His features were
thin and haggard, and his appearance was that of much suffering; but
he refused to take any rest or refreshment, and having called together
his followers, the first words that fell from his lips were,
“Teteboxti, Billy Patterson, and Leather-lips must die!” A short but
deep silence followed, and a cloud passed over the features of the red
men, for the two first mentioned were chiefs of the Delawares; the
latter a chief of the Wyandots, and all were persons high in favor
among their respective tribes. They had always supported
unexceptionable characters, and each possessed the influence which
always attaches to a long and well-spent life. The Prophet continued:
“The evil spirit dwells in them, their knives are sharp, and they
would draw them against their brothers. They are the friends of the
white men,—they have sold our lands to the pale faces—see their names
to the treaties—and they are now trying to take from us the few
hunting grounds we have. Should they live, the red men will have no
homes to rest in. I prayed last night, as you know, to the Great
Spirit, and begged him to say to his Prophet what should be good for
his red children, and a voice cried, saying ‘let no witch live.’ And I
slept, and had a vision, and in it I saw Teteboxti, Billy Patterson
and Leather-lips gathering herbs, both deadly and poisonous, and on
their persons they had many crooked pins, and ugly nails, with which
they were about to exercise their infernal rights to the great injury
of the red men. They are witches, prepare the stakes and let them
suffer.”
The Prophet had no sooner finished speaking, than there burst forth a
wild and savage yell, with cries of “lead us on, lead us on!” and
placing himself at the head of his gang, they all ran away howling in
search of the doomed. Like an unkennelled pack, fresh for the chase
they coursed away through the woods, bending their way to the Delaware
tribe—scouring the country for those they sought, and spreading terror
and desolation, wherever they swept along.
Several days passed, and it was evening when the Prophet was seen in
the Delaware country, seated on a small grass plat, which had been
swept and prepared for some purpose and surrounded by many Indians,
some of whom were Delawares. They were all more grave and taciturn
than usual; and upon examining more minutely into the preparations
which had been made for the assembled crowd, their silence was easily
accounted for. Hard by them, and at a distance of about twenty feet
from each other might be seen two freshly cut poles which had been
trimmed, and inserted deep into the earth. Around them for several
feet, the ground had been swept, and over them were thrown several
little bunches of twisted mulberry strings. A quantity of light wood
and dried sticks had been gathered, and lay near at hand, while also
at a short distance, smoked a small fire, which seemed to have been
kept alive merely to answer the purposes of a match.
It was now near the close of evening, when, afar off, was heard a
confused noise, which seemed to approach and gradually increase, until
one could identify it, as an Indian hymn of joy, proceeding from a
mixed multitude of persons, hurrying on to the present encampment of
the Prophet. In the rear of the approaching band, were collected a
number of boys and women, with long switches, who seemed to be urging
something forward. It was Teteboxti and Billy Patterson, pinioned,
whom they were forcing along to the Prophet's camp. Having arrived,
there burst forth a simultaneous shout of savage joy, and then for a
time was wild revelry and mirth, and confusion and disorder, and all
cast taunts and reproaches upon the accused.
The Prophet afterward having formed a ring, called them to order, and
in the centre stood those who were already doomed to death. Then came
on the mockery of a trial;—it lasted for a moment;—it was over, and
the victims were ordered to the stake. Among some of the red men there
now seemed a little wavering of purpose, and but for the excitement
under which they were labouring, they must have relented, when they
saw dragged to the stake two of their own citizens, worn with years,
and covered with honours. Teteboxti had ever supported the most
exemplary life; he was even famed for his wisdom and his many virtues,
and the breath of suspicion had never as yet been blown against him.
In the language of one who described the scenes of that day, “his head
had been bleached by more than eighty winters,” and he now stood at
the stake, trembling with age, and leaning on his staff for support,
while they prepared to fasten the strings around him. Compassion now
for a moment appeared to gleam forth, for the Prophet advancing to
Teteboxti, told him if he would deliver up his medicine bag, and
confess himself a witch, his life should be spared. The strength of
the old man's mind had departed, and age had imbued him with the
weakness of a child. He consented, and designated a spot where he said
his medicine bag was concealed. He was released, and the crowd led him
to the place he had mentioned;—yet his little bag, which in the eyes
of the Indians, was all powerful, for it was filled, as they supposed,
with roots and crooked pins, and such other substances as were
necessary for a witch to work his incantations with, was no where to
be found. The old man was frightened, and gasped for breath, and named
another place. They led him there, and searched, yet nothing could
they find. He still named another place, and begged them to lead him
thither, but it was apparent that procrastination was his only object,
and they dragged him away to the stake, with tears flowing in a stream
down his face as they urged him along. He was bound, and the fire
kindled,—a light current of air which swept along, fanned the fire
into a flame, and at the same time parting the white hair of
Teteboxti, caused it to float off in the wind. At this moment, a young
warrior, who was near, moved by compassion, sank his tomahawk into his
head:—he fell, quivering upon the ground, and as the yet warm reeking
weapon was returned to its sheath, a shudder passed over the features
of Elkswatawa.
While this was acting, Billy Patterson remained pinioned to a stake, a
silent spectator, at the distance of only a few feet. So calm and
unmoved was he, that no one would have supposed him interested in the
events which were occurring. But now the crowd gathered around him,
and the Prophet stepping forth, made the same propositions to him
which he had made to Teteboxti. Many begged him to accept them, and
give up his medicine bag;—his life had been irreproachable and useful,
and they wished it spared. He had served his apprenticeship as a
gunsmith among the whites, where also he had imbibed the doctrines of
Christianity, and to the Prophet's proposition, he replied:—“I am a
Christian, and have no connexion with the devil;—you have intimidated
one poor old man, but you cannot frighten me,—proceed, and you shall
see how a Christian and a warrior can die.”
His speech irritated the crowd:—they abused him as a witch, and
drawing nearer to him, sat fire to the pile. The fire, at first, burnt
slowly, but soon after increasing, it rolled upwards, in a sheet of
dense red flame. You might now hear his skin crack and parch, and yet
he uttered no murmur or complaint; but, opening a small hymn book,
began to sing and pray, with a loud voice. The Indians who surrounded
him, danced about with savage glee,—made jocose speeches when his
muscles twitched, from the action of the fire, and taunted and reviled
him. Yet he quailed not, but sung and prayed, as though he were freed
from all bodily suffering. The fire still increased, and a judgment
from heaven seemed suddenly to have passed over his persecutors, so
silent at once became that noisy rabble. Not a sound was now heard,
but the cracking of the fire, or the dropping of blood, as trickling
from some fresh wound, it fell upon a burning coal, causing a frying
or hissing sound. All gazed in wonder, and each one sorrowed for the
part he had borne, when he beheld the firmness of the dying man. His
chest still heaved, but he triumphed over nature, for no sound
indicated the anguish he suffered. A few moments more elapsed and a
skeleton lay doubled up at the foot of the stake, the bones of the
right hand, clutching with a strong gripe, a small black smoking
substance,—it was the hymn book; and the spirit of Billy Patterson had
returned to its God.
For some few moments there was silence, and contrition seemed to have
entered their hearts. But the Prophet discovering it, called them
together and harangued them. He finished speaking, contrition
disappeared, and all were joyous; not only joyous, but happy, and
inclined to mirth and festivity. Feasting and dancing were at once
resorted to, and they indulged in all the unrestrained freedom of wild
revelry:—surrounding alternately the body of Teteboxti, and the
skeleton of Billy Patterson, they performed various dances, and sung
hymns of joy, and ever and anon they laughed until their sides shook,
at the different positions in which they placed the body and the
skeleton, at one moment twining its arms around the body, at another
causing it to sit erect at a short distance, and look as if it was
gazing on the body of Teteboxti from sightless sockets.
The night was now wearing away, the middle watch was at hand, and the
Prophet prepared to close the scene. His followers were ripe for any
act, so he called them together, and harked them on in pursuit of
Leather-lips. The camp was soon cleared, their baggage slung, and with
the Prophet all were off in pursuit, leaving their present camp
unoccupied save by the unburied body of Teteboxti, which remained
sitting in an upright position, and the skeleton of Billy Patterson,
which was left hanging upon the fork of a tree.
It was early the next morning when the crowd was seen coursing their
way through a small field, to a cabin where resided Leather-lips,
whose Indian appellation was Shateyaronrah. He was surrounded by his
family, and several friends were also casually present, among whom
were two white men. Leather-lips was at this time aged sixty-three,
and had always supported the most exemplary life. He had often mingled
in battle, and had won for himself the reputation of a brave man. But
unfortunately for himself his signature was attached to the famous
treaty of Greenville, and he had ever manifested a partiality for the
Americans as opposed to the English. Notwithstanding this, he was
conspicuous among the red men far and wide, and wielded great
influence.
When Elkswatawa assumed to himself the character of a Prophet, and
announced that he was commissioned by the Most High to preach the word
to the red men, to change their condition, increase their possessions,
and make them sole masters of the land, Leather-lips denounced him as
an impostor, and urged the Indians not to place full credence in his
promises. He had been silently watching the character of the Prophet
while he was struggling for power, and spared no endeavour to thwart
his views. He was acquainted with the executions which had already
taken place on account of pretended witchcraft, and when he heard the
shouts of the band which was hurrying on, and saw their numbers, he
knew but too well, the pack which was unkennelled against him. But
hark! they are rushing on, and first among the foremost, comes his
brother. They arrive, they seize, and prepare to bind him.
“No,” cries he, “let me be free, I know your purpose, and am ready to
obey.”
“Haste then;” cried Elkswatawa, “witch, we thirst for blood.”
“Witch!” repeated Leather-lips, and he looked him in the face, and
entered his wigwam. Then returning to the door he addressed the crowd,
and begged them to spare his life. His entreaty was answered with
scorn, and they cried for blood. All hope was now gone, and he
re-entered his wigwam, to prepare for his fate, while his executioners
commenced digging his grave at the sill of his door. Having dressed
himself in his best war clothes, and partaken of a hasty meal of
venison, he came out from his cabin calm and dignified, and knelt upon
the brink of his grave. His executioners then stepped forward, one of
whom was his own brother, and kneeling before him, prayed to the Great
Spirit in his behalf. The Indians were all silent, and the prayers
being over, they withdrew to a short distance, and seated themselves
on the ground. Leather-lips then bent over his grave, rested his face
upon his hands and his hands upon his knees. The executioners stepped
forward, performed their duty, and the body of Leather-lips rolled
into its grave. The Indians then huddled around it, and Elkswatawa
calling the attention of the two whites, pointed to the body. “See,”
said he, as the chest still heaved, “see how hard he dies; he is a
witch, he is a witch.” All were satisfied, and they shovelled the
fresh earth over the dying Leather-lips, and left to his last sleep,
one who, an hour before, was cultivating his little field.
APPENDIX.
NOTE A.—_Page 25_.
“Roof of the boat.” This seems an awkward expression, yet there is no
other word which will convey the idea. The flat boats of the west are
in shape parallelograms; they have but a single story, and closely
boarded over, form a flat roof upon which in good weather emigrants
lounge or walk about for exercise.
NOTE B.—_Page 56_.
I have often been amused when travelling through the west, at the
inquiries which would be made upon finding out that I was a Virginian,
by persons who had emigrated years before from the same state. It
seemed to them a matter of course that I must know their relations;
and I have been asked after Aunt Polly, Jenny, and other members of a
family of which I knew no more than if they lived in the moon. This
was frequently the case in Arkansas, but lest it should seem to show a
degree of ignorance unequalled by any other people, and perhaps afford
nuts to crack for foreigners, I must tell an anecdote by way of set
off. In the winter of '34, I started in a coach well filled from
Manchester for Nottingham; the passengers were all genteel, well
dressed men, and one seemed affable and talkative above his
companions; he gave me much local information, and discovering that I
was an American from some remark I made, the following dialogue
ensued.
“You are not an American?” said he.
“Indeed I am.”
“Well, you talk just as we do.”
I told him, I thought nothing was more natural, inasmuch as we were
descended from the English.
“Well, now will you tell me one thing I have long wanted to know?”
continued the stranger.
“Certainly, if it be proper, and I can;”—said I.
“Well, do the blacks in your country run wild?”
I could not avoid laughing, and after composing myself, explained to
him their situation, and the nature of the services performed by them;
he expressed himself satisfied on that point, and after a silence of a
few minutes, observed, “I have a friend in America, I reckon you have
seen him.”
I told him I really did not know, and asked him to what part he had
gone; he said he could'nt tell, but added “I can tell you, how you may
know him if ever you should see him?”
“How?” said I.
“He limps a little,” said he, “and his right foot cocks up.”
“Very well,” said I, “when I meet with him, I will give him your
respects.” “And” added the stranger, “I will tell you another way you
may know him, he is mighty fond of swapping horses.” I could now hold
in no longer, but laughed outright, and told him that the United
States were many times as large as England. He believed I was quizzing
him, and turned away in disgust. And these were the directions given
by a well dressed Englishman, to enable me to find his friend in
America. Happily for the confirmation of the above anecdote, there now
lives in this state, a highly respectable and esteemed gentleman who
heard the whole of it.
NOTE C.—_Page 191_.
Netnokwa, who, as we have stated, was at one time regarded as chief of
the Ottawas, married an Ojibbeway and emigrated with him to the Red
River country. He soon after their removal falling in battle, she
continued to reside with his relatives.
See Tanner's narrative.
END OF VOL. I.
ELKSWATAWA; OR, THE PROPHET OF THE WEST.
A TALE OF THE FRONTIER.
“A noble race! but they are gone,
With their old forests wide and deep,
And we have built our homes upon
Fields where their generations sleep.”
BRYANT.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
NEW-YORK:
PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS,
NO. 82 CLIFF STREET.
1836.
[Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1836, by HARPER &
BROTHERS, in the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.]
WILLIAM H. COLYER, _Printer_,
No. 104 Beekman-street.
ELKSWATAWA; OR, THE PROPHET OF THE WEST.