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OT long after Connecticut began to be settled by the English, a stranger
Indian came one day to a tavern in one of its towns in the dusk of the
evening, and requested the hostess to supply him with something to eat
and drink; at the same time he honestly told her that he could not pay
for either, as he had had no success in hunting for several days; but
that he would return payment as soon as he should meet with better
fortune.
The hostess, who was a very ill-tempered woman, not only flatly refused
to relieve him, but added abuse to her unkindness, calling him a lazy,
drunken fellow, and told him that she did not work so hard herself, to
throw away her earnings upon such vagabonds as he was.
There was a man sitting in the same room of the tavern, who, on hearing
the conversation, looked up, and observing the Indian’s countenance,
which plainly showed that he was suffering severely from want and
fatigue, and being of a humane disposition, he told the woman to give
the poor wanderer some supper, and he would pay for it.
She did so: and when the Indian had finished his meal, he turned towards
his benefactor, thanked him, and told him that he should not forget
his kindness. “As for the woman,” he added, “all I can give her is
a story--if she likes to hear it.” The woman, being now in a rather,
better temper, and having some curiosity to hear what he had to tell,
readily consented, and the Indian addressed her as follows:
“I suppose you read the Bible?” The woman assented. “Well,” continued
the Indian, “the Bible say, God made the world, and then he took him,
and looked on him, and say, ‘It’s all very good.’ Then he made light,
and took him, and looked on him, and say, ‘It’s all very good.’ Then he
made dry land, and water, and sun, and moon, and grass, and trees, and
took him, and say, ‘It’s all very good.’ Then he made beasts, and bird,
and fishes, and took him, and looked on him, and say, ‘It’s all very
good.’ Then he made man, and took him, and looked on him, and say,
‘It’s all very good.’ And last of all he made _woman_, and took him, and
looked on: him, _and he no dare say one such word._” The Indian, having
told his story, departed.
Some years after, the man who had be friended the Indian had occasion
to go some distance into the wilderness between Litchfield and Albany,
which is now a populous city, but then contained only a few houses. Here
he was taken prisoner by an Indian scout, and carried off into Canada.
When he arrived at the principal settlement of their tribe, which was on
the banks of the great river St. Lawrence, some of the Indians proposed
that he should be put to death, in revenge for the wrongs that they had
suffered from the white men; and this probably would have been his fate,
had not an old Indian woman, or squaw, as they are called, demanded that
he should be given up to her, that she might adopt him in place of her
son, whom she had lately lost in war. He was accordingly given to
her, and, as it is customary under such circumstances, was thenceforth
treated in the same manner as her own son.
In the following summer, as he was one day at work in the forest by
himself, felling trees, an Indian, who was unknown to him, came; up
and asked him to meet him the following day at a certain spot which
he described. The white man agreed to do so, but not without some
apprehension that mischief was intended. During the night these fears
increased to so great a degree, as effectually to prevent his keeping
his appointment.
However, a few days after, the same Indian, finding him at work, mildly
reproved him for not keeping his promise. The man made the best excuse
he could, but the Indian was not satisfied until he had again promised
to meet him the next morning at the place already agreed on.
Accordingly, when he arrived at the spot, he found the Indian already
there, provided with two muskets and powder, and two knapsacks. The
Indian ordered him to take one of each, and to follow him. The direction
of their march was southward. The man followed without the least
knowledge of what he was to do, or whither he was going, but he
concluded that if the Indian intended to do him harm, he would have
despatched him at the first meeting, and certainly would not have
provided him with a musket and powder for defence. His fears, therefore,
gradually subsided, although the Indian maintained an obstinate silence
when he questioned him concerning the object of their expedition.
In the day time they shot and cooked as much game as they required,
and at night they kindled a fire by which they slept. After a fatiguing
journey through the forest for many days, they came one morning to the
top of a hill from which there was the prospect of a cultivated country,
interspersed with several snug farm-houses.
“Now,” said the Indian to his joyful companion, “do you know where you
are?”
“Yes,” replied he, “we are not ten miles from my own village.”
“And do you not remember a poor Indian at the tavern?--you feed him--you
speak kind to him--I am that poor Indian;--now go home.” Having said
this, he bade him farewell, and the man joyfully returned to his own
home.
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