And what was Edith's journey? Would the reader have me dwell upon the
small particulars--speak of it as if she had been taking a morning's
walk, and note every bird, and flower, and insect; each smooth valley
or bluff rock? Or would he have me present it as a picture, as it
appeared to her after it was over, massed together in its
extraordinary rapidity, and seen but from one point--at the end? Let
us choose the latter plan, although it would be easy to extend the
pages of this work by minute descriptions and passing panoramas, such
as critics love.
But it is my object only to dwell upon events which affected the
ultimate fate of the principal characters, and not to labour at length
upon a mere detail of incidents. In this view of the case, I might say
nothing more but that it began and ended--that she arrived safely at
the place of her destination. Yet that journey was to her a matter of
much interest; and when it was over, she looked back upon it as a
picture full of beautiful and pleasant things.
Swiftly skimming in a bark canoe over the glassy bosoms of the lakes,
which reflected every hue of herb, and tree, and sky, and mountain;
darting along bright and sparkling streams, sometimes beneath the
overhanging canopy of boughs, sometimes under the pure blue eye of
heaven; often struggling with a rapid, often having to pass along the
shore to turn a waterfall; at times walking along through the glowing
woods, burning with the intense colouring of autumn; at times
surrounded by a number of Indians, each rendering quiet, earnest
service to the adopted daughter of the great Oneida chief; at times
wandering on in the dim forest with no one but her two dark attendants
near; now the fierce howl of the midnight wolf sounding in her ear;
now the sharp, garrulous cry of the blue jay, or the shrill scream of
the wood-hawk; now beholding the Indian lodge, or castle, as the
Iroquois sometimes called their dwellings; then the brown canopy of
the autumn woods which covered her: such were the principal incidents
of her journey.
Still under the skilful guidance, and with the eager help, of the two
negroes, she went forward with extraordinary rapidity, leaving miles
and miles behind her every hour. It seemed almost like a pleasant
dream, or, at least, it would have seemed so, had the sad and fearful
motives which led her on been ever banished from her mind. Even as it
was, the quick and continued change of place and scene, the variety of
the objects, the constant succession of new matters of interest, the
events, small in themselves, but important to her, which occurred to
facilitate or impede her progress, were all a relief to her
overcharged mind; and she reached the Oneida territory less depressed
than when she set out from her home.
One cause, perhaps, of the feeling of renewed strength which she
experienced, was the renewal of hope from the conduct of the Indians
towards her, wherever she met them. She found that even amongst the
Mohawks she was recognized at once as the adopted daughter of the
great Oneida chief; and it was evident that he had spread far and
wide, as he returned to his own abode after the conference at Johnson
Castle, the fact of his having adopted the daughter of the pale-face,
Prevost. There is always something, too, in the fact of an enterprise
being actually commenced, which gives spirit to pursue it to the end.
While we stand and gaze at it from a distance, hesitating whether we
shall undertake it or not, the difficulties are magnified--the
facilities obscured: rocks and precipices rise up, threatening to our
imagination; while the small paths by which they may be surmounted are
unseen.
Day had yet an hour of life left when Edith approached what we find
called, in the history of the times, "The Castle of the Oneidas."
"Wigwam" it is customary to name all the Indian villages, giving an
idea of insignificance and meanness, and a completely savage state,
which the principal residences of the Five Nations did not at all
merit. Most of them were very like that which Edith now approached. It
was built upon a slight elevation near the lake, with a large
protruding rock close to it; for the Oneidas always affected near
their dwelling some object significant of their favourite appellation,
"The Children of the Stone."
Around the "Castle" were high palisades, inclosing a considerable
area, within which the huts of the Indians were constructed. Rising
considerably above the rest, were two wooden buildings, in the
erection of which European workmanship was apparent. The one was a
large oblong building, regularly roofed and shingled like that of any
English settler. It consisted of two stories, and in the upper one
regular framed windows were to be seen. In the lower story there were
none; light being admitted by the door. That lower story, however, was
floored with plain pine-boards, and divided by a sort of curtain into
two equal compartments.
The other building bore the appearance of a church in miniature, with
a small cottage or hut attached, which was, in reality, the residence
of the missionary, Mr. Gore. Around the village, or Castle, were wide,
well-cultivated fields, which had evidently lately borne maize, or
some other crops of grain; and let not the reader, acquainted with the
habits of Indians as they are at present, be surprised to find the art
of husbandry practised at this period amongst the rude denizens of the
forest; for, to the shame of civilized man be it spoken, the Indians
have assuredly lost much socially, and gained little religiously, by
the intercourse with the white invaders of their country. The crushing
weight of despondency, a sort of morbid awe of the superiority of the
white race, seems to have beaten down a spirit of enterprise which
formerly bid fair to regenerate the people, and to replace them in a
position which they probably at one time occupied.
Such, however, as I have described, was the appearance of a large
Indian village, or Castle, in the year one thousand seven hundred and
fifty-seven; and we find, from the statements of many an eye-witness,
that the wild hunter of the woods, the fierce combatant in the battle,
was, in his calmer moments, not at all insensible to many of the
advantages and comforts of civilized life. But we refused to lead them
on the way; we used their blood and their energies for our service; we
even bought and profited by their fierce barbarity; and, instead of
giving them, while it was possible, the arts of peace and the benefits
of cultivation, we furnished them with the "fire-water," we
contaminated them with our vices, and degraded them morally,
physically, and intellectually. Great was our offence against our
fellow-man; great must be the sin in the eyes of a just God.
The forest had disappeared; all that could be seen appeared as if
rolling in grey masses along the distant country. The purple light of
evening, increasing in richness every moment as the day declined,
spread over the whole scene, and was reflected from the bosom of the
lake. Many a light canoe was skimming along over the water, many a one
was lying motionless while the Indian fisherman pursued his sport. The
blue smoke curled up high and straight in the calm air from the doors
of several huts within the inclosure; and, from the maize-fields
without, the pleasant musical sounds of children's voices were heard,
as the young people of the village wandered here and there, gathering
up scattered ears of corn, which had fallen in the rude reaping of the
harvest. In one place even a song was heard; and, in short, the whole
scene, instead of being one of rude barbarism and fierce, active
passion, indicated calm domestic peace, such as is rarely pictured in
the common, but exaggerated, descriptions of Indian life. It might
serve my purpose better to describe it differently; but such I find
it, and so it must remain.
Even Edith was surprised to find the home of Otaitsa so different from
the ideas conveyed to her by the wandering traders, who, even while
carrying on commercial intercourse with the tribes, were in a state of
semihostility towards the Indians, representing them as bloody
savages, and cheating them wherever they could.
Slowly walking on between her two negro companions--for she was tired
with a longer walk than usual--Edith approached the open gates of the
Castle, and met with no opposition in entering. A tall, handsome
warrior passed out, fully clothed, in Indian costume, and only
distinguished from civilized man by the shaved head and the painfully
significant scalp-lock. His step was stately and calm; and his air
grave and reserved. Twice he turned his eyes upon Edith's face with a
look of evident wonder and admiration; but he took no farther notice,
and passed on.
He was the only individual whom she saw on entering the village; till,
after passing through many huts, where women and children were to be
seen busily employed, she came in sight of the door of the chief's
house, and beheld there a figure seated on the ground quietly engaged
in the art of embroidery, after the fashion in which the Indian women
so greatly excel. It was a figure which she knew well; and the
tranquil air and easy grace, as well as the quiet, peaceful
employment, showed Edith at once that she had not been mistaken in
supposing that Otaitsa was altogether ignorant of the peril of one
dear to them both.
As she came near, she heard that the Indian girl, in her happy
ignorance, was singing a sweet but somewhat plaintive song; and, the
next moment, Otaitsa, raising her eyes, beheld the three figures, and
at once perceived that they were not of her people. For a moment, she
did not know Edith in her Indian garb; but when she did recognize her,
the emotion produced was alarm rather than joy. She felt at once that
some great and important event--some occurrence full of peril or of
sorrow--must have brought Edith thither. The beautiful lips parted
with a tremulous motion; the large, dark eye, Indian in its colour,
but European in its form, became full of anxiety; the rosy hue of her
cheek, which probably had obtained for her the name of the Blossom,
faded away; and paleness spread over the clear brown skin.
Starting up, however, she cast the embroidery away from her, and,
springing forward, threw her arms round Edith's neck. Then, as her
head rested on her fair companion's shoulder, she asked, in a
whisper--
"What is it, my sister? There must be a storm in the sky--there must
be lightning in the cloud! What tempest-wind has swept my sister
hither? What flood of sorrow has borne Edith to Otaitsa?"
"Hush!" ejaculated Edith, in a low tone, for there were some other
Indian women near. "I will tell my sister when no ears can hear but
her own. There _is_ tempest in the sky. A pine-tree has fallen across
the threshold of my father's house; and we are sad for fear the
hatchet of the woodman should lop all its green branches away. Can I
speak with the Blossom speedily and in secret?"
"Instantly," answered Otaitsa. "The warriors have all gone forth to
hunt, for three days, the bear and the moose. The Black Eagle is with
them. There are but three men of deeds in the Castle; and why they are
women now, and go not forth to the hunting with the rest, I cannot
tell. But they are little within the palisade--daily they go forth,
and remain absent long. Come in hither, my sister; for, though few
here speak the tongue we speak, it were better not to let the wind
hear us."
"Can some of the women give food and lodging to these two negroes?"
asked Edith, adding, "They have been well warned, and know that a life
depends upon their silence."
Otaitsa called to an elderly Indian woman, who was cooking at the door
of a cabin near, and placed Chando and his companion under her charge.
She then turned to Edith, saying,--
"Come, my sister."
But, before they entered the building, Edith inquired if Mr. Gore were
there, saying,--
"Perhaps he might give us counsel."
"My father sent him away some days ago," answered Otaitsa; "he will
not be back for a month--perhaps longer. I think he sent him to secure
him from danger."
"Alas!" exclaimed Edith, "that the danger should have fallen on
others!"
"Alas, alas!" cried Otaitsa.
And Edith felt her hand tremble much as she led her into the building.