The landscape around the chief's wigwam was sublime. First his little
field of corn clustering with golden ears; beyond, the beautiful tall
forest trees formed arches overhead and locked their boughs in social
harmony. A winding path led from the wigwam to the grove, bordered with
wild roses, which must have appeared beautiful and gay in summer, but
now began to droop and fade like the leaves of the surrounding forest.
Esock Mayall wandered along this path of faded flowers to the edge of
the dark overgrown forest, and stood for a time viewing the large,
massive branches that had been torn from their parent trees by the fury
of the wind and rain the previous day. The splinters of every form lay
scattered where the currents of electricity in their fearful descent had
rent in fragments some giant of the forest, torn out its oaken heart and
scattered its ribs and limbs upon the forest floor.
After viewing the wonders of Nature, Esock Mayall was returning to the
wigwam along the path of flowers, when that wood-nymph, the chief's
daughter, appeared before him, gentle as the ring-dove.
And the glory of youth clung around her,
I felt her ambrosial breath on my cheek
Like the scent and perfume of wild roses.
She seemed to appear in all the beauty of innocence. Esock Mayall asked
her who planted those roses.
"I planted them," said the maiden, "to perfume my path and wanton in the
summer air around me whilst I walked to yonder grove in summer days, for
twelve long years, to hear the evening and morning song of birds which
charmed me to the grove; and then again I love the solitary woods, the
sylvan shade. I learned, when but a child, to wander in yon shady grove
to hear the squirrels chirp and bark."
Esock Mayall wished her to inform him how and when she first came to
live in this overgrown forest. She said, "I could not tell, but when I
was a child I lived in a cottage on a lake shore, where one could sit in
its vine-clad porch and look out upon the windings of its beautiful
shore and hear the fury of the waves amid the fearful storm. The Indians
came one sunny day, when I was sitting under the arbor over the door,
and killed my mother, robbed the house, and bore me away in their arms.
The next morning one of the Indians took me on his back, and in three or
four days they reached this place, and I was adopted into the chief's
family. My mother used me kindly whilst she lived. After ten years she
sickened and died. Since that time I have lived with the chief, my
father. I have planted these flowers in rows to imitate the shores of
the lake where I was born. That long half-moon curve you see was a wide,
open bay, and that short turn yonder was a bluff of rocks."
Esock Mayall listened with admiration to her story, and then replied,
"Would you go with me and walk the shores of that lake once more?"
That question seemed a spell that chained her tongue, whilst the crimson
flush faded from her cheek. In a few moments her young blood began to
course freely in her veins, and the flush of roses warmed her lovely
cheeks. She raised her eyes and looked Esock Mayall full in the face,
and appeared as lovely as a dream.
"Do you know where that lake is situated? My captors have always refused
to inform me. If you do, I will go with you cheerfully, and walk once
more upon its lovely shores. Twelve long years, in the dreams of
midnight, I have wandered on its shores, and its coves and bays have
appeared to me with the white swan with snowy sail and air of pride
floating upon its mirror waves; but there is a bitter mingled with the
sweet; in those dreams I see my mother pale in death, slain by my
captor's hands, and oh, my father, who was absent from his home, where
is he? When rosy morn blushed on the concave of the skies I always found
myself within the wigwam's prison-walls."
Esock Mayall told her frankly that he neither knew the name or locality
of the lake she described, but added, "If you would consent to be my
wife and go with me to my forest home, I will endeavor to learn from
your captors the name and locality, and take you back to the home of
your childhood, once more to ramble on the beautiful shores where you
had roamed in childhood's sunny days."
The maiden then replied that she would consult with her father and
answer his request to-morrow.
To-morrow came. The chief appeared gloomy and thoughtful. He well knew
the undaunted courage, the sure and steady aim of the Mayalls to guide
the bullet in its airy track, the power of their strong arms in wielding
the tomahawk in battle strife. He had no reason to fear the protection
of his daughter, but the thought of parting with the sunny face of one
he had ever idolized, whom he had carried for more than a hundred miles
on his back through the wilderness when she was a child, because he
loved her snowy face and flowing hair--this thought pained him. Long
years he had dressed her in robes of beaver during the winter, and made
her bed of down; the fawn had yielded her skin to clothe her naked feet,
and the brightest wampum had encircled her waist, the most costly jewels
had ever sparkled in her ears, and he had employed the most skillful of
his race to teach her to border her flowing dress in summer with the
quills of the porcupine. He had hunted weeks to capture the swan to deck
her hat with snowy plumes to wave in open air and clothe her queenly
neck.
"I have acted the part of a kind father," thought he, "and if I give her
hand to young Mayall, who would cheer my wigwam in sickness, and smooth
the winter of my declining years? Who would ring my funeral knell, and
plant the wild rose upon my lonely grave?" No tears flowed to soothe his
troubled brain; there was no wanton moisture in his eye. "And then,
again, if I should deny my daughter's request I fear the consequences.
Mayall had the shrewdness and courage to take her from me, and then,
again, I have taken her from her parents and her home, and she might be
left unprotected when I am dead and gone."
The chief passed a sleepless night, but rose bright and cheerful in the
morning, and informed his daughter, if she chose to leave his wigwam for
that of her lover, she might go, with his blessings upon her youthful
head; but one thing he must insist upon, in order to preserve harmony,
that the tribe that lived in the surrounding forest should be invited to
the wedding, and the whole tribe should join in the marriage dance,
according to the ancient customs of the Indian tribes.
Young Mayall was informed of the Indian chief's decision. He walked
boldly up to the chief, who was seated in his wigwam, and took his
daughter by the hand, and said, "When I have received from you the hand
of your daughter, and have conformed to the usages of your tribe in all
things, we want you to go with us to our forest home, and we will
provide for you in old age in the same kind manner you have provided for
your daughter. You shall have your choice in the dainty pieces of
venison and wild fowls, and find protection under the roof of our
cottage home.
'There I'll sit by my bride, where the rushes are green,
While the sun weaveth gold o'er the robes of my queen.'"
In answer to some questions with regard to the home of her childhood, by
Esock Mayall, she related the following story of her journey to the
great Falls of Niagara, which the chief said would enable me to keep my
course through dark forests from the Oneida Lake to the great lakes and
rivers towards the setting sun:
"I started on a journey to the great Falls of Niagara, with my father
and mother, to witness the voluntary sacrifice of a young Indian maiden
to the great Spirit of the Falls, or Naiad God of the Water. We pursued
our journey through beautiful forests, over wood-crowned hills, fording
the valley streams without interruption, until the second day, near
sunset, we came in sight of a beautiful lake, whose surface
'Seemed so placid, smooth and fair,
That Naiad might look on to plait her hair.'
"We traced the shores a short distance, coming to a little crystal
stream, the waters of which were cool and refreshing. We concluded to
encamp near this stream, that spun its silver thread to the lake from a
dark ravine over which the branching tree-tops leaned. We followed the
stream a short distance, and built our camp-fire under shelter of a
large branching tree that stood on the bank of the ravine. Near this
tree a cool fountain gushed from a large rock, and made music for us as
it dashed over its stony bed to join the stream below. Taking into
consideration all the surroundings, it was a grand place for a lover of
scenery and solitude. There we ate our evening meal, and, after slaking
our thirst at the cooling fountain that flowed from the rock, laid down
to rest our weary limbs by our camp-fire, that blazed up and illuminated
the forest for several rods around, making the forest look grand, with
its branches interlocked in social harmony, fanned by the gentle breeze
from the lake that whispered through the tree-tops, and sung of passing
time, like the Æolian harp that hung upon the willows along the streams
of Babylon.
"All nature seemed to invite us to repose, and the waters of Lethe swept
over us. As the Angel of Dreams threw his mantle over me, through this
gauzy mantle I seemed to trace the Queen of the Falls from earth, with
her guardian angels, to the fields of Paradise, which appeared in my
dream as described by the Jesuit that used to come and preach to the
tribe I lived with, and give me books, teach me to read them, and teach
me etiquette, such as used by the English and French. All of a sudden I
thought the bolts of hell had burst asunder, and the devil incarnate
walked again over earth and sea--that Gabriel had sounded his trumpet
for all to assemble at the judgment hall on the borders of two worlds.
"Slowly awaking to consciousness, I cast my eyes towards the big rock. I
felt the rain pattering down in my face from the tree-tops, and, lo!
there I saw two eyes that looked to me like two orbs swimming in liquid
fire, which frightened me to such a degree that I attempted to scream
for mercy.
"I seemed to be paralyzed. In this awful moment of fear, the Great
Spirit sent an arrow of electric fire from the darkest pavilion of the
storm-cloud, selected from the quiver of the Eternal Jehovah, down into
the top of a mighty oak that leaned over the dark ravine a few rods
above our camping ground, which tore off the top and splintered its
massive trunk to the ground. The awful crash frightened me nearly out of
my wits. I screamed with all the power of voice I possessed, for I
thought the ebon paw of Satan was upon me. The panther then set up the
most unearthly scream I had ever heard leaped from the rook, and seemed
to make the forest jar at every scream, until he was far away on the
lake shore. The clap of thunder awoke my father and mother. The chief,
hearing the screams of the panther, seized his weapons of war and tried
in vain to penetrate the surrounding gloom, for the blackness of the
storm-cloud made the forest a dungeon, occasionally illuminated by
flashes of electric fire from the arching clouds over our heads, which
could not be penetrated by mortal eye. The chief again gathered up the
few burning brands that remained, and piled high his fuel. This only
served to light a few rods from the fire, whilst all beyond seemed black
as the regions of darkness. There was no more sleep during the night.
"Morning dawned. The storm-cloud passed away, and we resumed our journey
with cautious and timid steps toward the place of our destination,
arriving late in the afternoon at the Upper Falls, on the Genesee, where
the waters dashed from rock to rock, until it reached the valley below
the Falls. We traced the river bank three or four miles, to Gardow, a
village on the west bank of the Genesee River, where the roar of the
Upper Falls could be distinctly heard, where we were received with great
cordiality, and conducted to comfortable lodgings, and furnished with
all that nature required for comfort. After one day's rest we again
started for the great Falls of Niagara, with a part of the Genesee tribe
of Indians that resided at Gardow. We took the most direct Indian path
that led to Niagara, which led us over hills crowned with forests, and
through dark wooded valleys, reaching the Falls about sunset the second
day, and encamped on the banks of that mighty rushing river, with the
numerous throng that had reached their place of destination before us.
"We all encamped like a family of friends, upon the banks of a river
that was destined to divide a kingdom from a republic. Early the next
morning preparations were made for offering a human being as a sacrifice
to the Great Spirit that created the earth and the heavens, and all
things contained therein. The most beautiful and gifted young Indian
maiden, just blooming into womanhood, was chosen by the priests and
prophets of that ancient tribe, to appease the anger of the gods, and
bear a message from that tribe to their friends that had gone over the
River of Death before them, to the land of the olive and the vine in the
clear Southwest, known only to the brave and just, where the wild doe
and her fawn feed on flowers, where the flowers wear their everlasting
bloom, and the grass is greener and more luxuriant than was ever seen,
and softer than the Persian silk. In that beautiful land mortals put on
the garments of immortality. When the young maiden was informed that she
was chosen for the sacrifice, she came forward with a smile upon her
countenance, adorned in all the glory of the Indian costume, as a bride
adorned for her husband, and entered the arena. The Indian priest then
stepped forward and poured upon her head the oil of venison, and placed
a crown of roses, intermixed with swans-down, to give it a snowy-white
appearance, and crowned her, in the name of the tribe, Queen of Niagara.
"A more beautiful or graceful being could not be found to offer up her
life for her friends. The whole tribe then sang and shouted the glories
of their youthful queen, each one handing her some little token of
remembrance to their friends in the spirit world, and kissed her hand.
After a short time had been allowed her to receive the homage due an
earthly queen, two young Indian warriors came forward, one taking her by
the right hand and the other by the left, and led her to the shore of
the river, followed by twelve young Indian girls.
"Moored on the sandy shore above the Falls was a little white tiny boat,
just large enough for one person, loaded with ripe fruits and
fresh-blown roses. In this beautiful boat, surrounded by the odor of
ripe fruit and perfume of roses that wantoned in the surrounding air,
the young warrior placed her, put a paddle in their young queen's hand
just as the sun reached the meridian, and darted his rays from his
eternal quiver upon the waters of Niagara, and the young warriors cried
over the river, at the same time pushing the boat from the shore, when
the young queen applied the paddle with all her might and main, until
she reached the middle of the river above the Falls, every Indian, young
and old, shouting and singing the glories of their brave queen.
"The moment she reached the middle of the river she turned the bow of
her little boat towards the Falls, then applying the paddle with force
the boat shot down the rapid current with the speed of an arrow, whilst
two rainbows faintly spanned the boiling flood. Down, down among the
caverned rocks and foaming waters went the beautiful form, whilst her
guardian angels received her spirit and soared above the rainbow's arch,
up through the concave of the skies to life eternal.
"We tarried until the chariots of the sun rolled down the western sky.
The full moon in her diamond car rose, and threw her pale light over the
foaming waters of Niagara. The whole tribe then assembled on the high
rooks below the Falls, and the Indians declared by the Eternal that they
could see troops of fairies waltzing around their departed queen on the
glassy waters of the Falls, clothed in all the splendors of the rainbow,
chanting the glories of their queen. And here upon the rocky altar they
built their night-fires to light the spirit of their queen and her
guardian angels to the Elysian Fields of Paradise on the shores of life
eternal. And here we join the American poets in their majestic song of
time:
'Flow on forever, in thy glorious robe
Of terror and of beauty! God hath set
His rainbow on thy forehead, and the cloud
Mantles around thy feet, And He doth give
The voice of thunder power to speak of Him
Eternally, bidding the lip of man
Keep silence, and upon the rocky altar pour
Incense of awe-stricken praise.'
"The next morning we started for our home near the shores of Oneida
Lake, which we reached without being molested in our journey. We traced
the flowery banks of babbling brooks, walked beneath the grand arches of
beautiful forests made melodious by the songsters of the grove, but I
could not forget the terrible scenes I had witnessed at Niagara."