“Segwuna, Segwuna, here are the berries,” sang out the sweet voice of
Mollie Greydon, on a balmy June day, as two girls were seeking wild
strawberries on the banks of the Wingohocking. The year was 1776, and
the day was one of lasting memory at Dorminghurst.
Dr. Greydon had invited Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson to
Dorminghurst to spend a Sunday during the deliberations of the
Continental Congress. The change and rest in the country would give
these earnest workers the time in which to ponder over their labors and
to consult as to measures that Congress ought to adopt.
When distinguished guests were to grace the home of the Greydons
frequently Miss Mollie was busy for days providing the table with
all the delicacies of the season, and leaving nothing undone for the
comfort of her father’s friends.
For the purpose of gathering a goodly supply of wild strawberries, she
went to the lodge of Kaubequa, the mother of her favorite companion,
Segwuna, to enlist the Indian woman and her daughter in her task.
The three worked tirelessly on the day before Sunday, as the
distinguished statesmen were to be present for supper, and she knew
that wild strawberries would be such a treat for her father’s guests.
[Illustration: Two girls were seeking wild strawberries on the banks of
the Wingohocking.]
Ever since the killing of Kaubequa’s brave by the whites, when Segwuna
was a small child, this lone Indian family had made their home on
Dr. Greydon’s estate, Dorminghurst. The child had been nurtured and
educated as his own, since she was the grandchild of Altamaha, the
great friend of James Greydon, his father.
The Greydons had cherished these children of the forest as a heritage
of the soil. The family of Altamaha had always been privileged Indians
at Dorminghurst. After the death of Altamaha, and the killing of his
son in the valley of the Monongahela, Kaubequa, her infant daughter and
boy made the long journey to Dr. Greydon’s estate alone.
The white settlers had killed her brave, and had driven her tribe from
the beautiful valley in the mountains, and the mother had wearied of
war. She knew that if she could once get to the old friends of Altamaha
she could rest in safety and rear her two children in peace. She oft
murmured to herself in the plaintive language of her race as she gazed
upon her two fatherless children:
“I care not again to hear the eagle scream on high. The war manitou
has left me alone, alone and destitute. Every day, thou, star of my
destiny, I gaze at thee. Whither shall I fly?
“He was still standing on a fallen tree that had fallen into the
water,--my sweetheart!
“Alas, when I think of him! when I think of him! It is when I think of
him!--Oh, _disquagummee_!”
Her mind rebelled and indignation took the place of sadness as she
thought of the happy wigwam that her warrior supplied so well with
game and fish; and how she used to enjoy the security of their forest
home. While her brave was out after the chase, she was grinding the
corn and tanning the skins. When he journeyed far in his favorite
hunting-grounds she was cultivating the maize and potatoes for her
loved ones, so that there would be plenty for her lord upon his return.
Many times did she swing her baby girl to sleep while her boy played
about the lodge and gazed at her with love in his young eyes as she
sang:
“Swinging, swinging, lullaby,
“Sleep thou, sleep thou, sleep thou,
“Little daughter, lullaby.
“Swinging, swinging, swinging,
“Little daughter, lullaby.
“Your mother cares for you,
“Sleep, sleep, sleep, lullaby.
“Do not fear, my little daughter,
“Sleep, sleep, sleep,
“Do not fear, my little daughter.
“Swinging, swinging, lullaby,
“Not alone art thou.
“Your mother is caring for you.
“Sleep, sleep, my little daughter,
“Swinging, swinging, lullaby,
“Sleep, sleep, sleep.”
But she could not, in the care of her children, dispel the sadness of
her mind, knowing that she must give up the joys of her forest life.
Everything had been so full of hope when he was beside her, but now she
could lie on her couch of boughs and mats and ponder upon the sad fate
to which she had been cast by the relentless white man. Her mind oft
reflected what has been well written:
“’Tis not enough. That hated race
“Should hunt us out from grove and place,
“And consecrated shore,--where long
“Our fathers raised the lance and song.”
The inevitable had come to Kaubequa, and she sought her white friends,
whose religion abhorred war. She set up her lodge on the estate of Dr.
Greydon,--not even asking leave to do so.
The first evidence that the master of Dorminghurst had of the newly
arrived family, was the presentation of a _mokuk_ of maple sugar to the
household by a comely young squaw. She carried an infant daughter on
her back, bound up in an Indian’s cradle.
She desired to obtain some meat, and her way was to exchange with the
white people.
Her son was a dextrous lad of nine years, who had learned to fish and
trap small animals for food and fur.
The infant daughter of Kaubequa grew like a young fawn around her
mother’s lodge. When the child had reached the age verging upon
womanhood, she possessed a tall, slender form, a beautiful olive
complexion and large expressive eyes, much like the wild doe,--in that
the haughty restlessness of the wilderness child could be discerned in
her glance.
Her name was Segwuna, the daughter of Springtime, and when about
thirteen summers, her mother advised her that a sign made by the Great
Spirit to her would mean that she was to be a great woman, if she only
would do whatever her mother required of her.
Consequently, early one morning in mid-winter, an unusual sign
appeared to Segwuna in her dreams. She arose from her couch and ran as
far from her lodge as her strength allowed and remained there until her
mother found her.
Her mother knew what had happened, and directed her to come nearer the
family abode, and instructed her to help prepare a lodge out of the
boughs of the hemlock.
She was told not to taste anything for two days, not even snow. As a
diversion, she was to twist and prepare the bark of the linden into
twine. She could gather wood, build herself a fire, lie down and keep
warm.
Segwuna did as directed and at the end of the two days her mother came
to see her, but did not bring a morsel to eat. Her thirst was greater
than her hunger, yet the pangs of hunger were very violent.
Kaubequa sat down with her child, after she had ascertained that
nothing had passed Segwuna’s lips for two days, and said:
“My child, you are my only daughter. Now, my daughter, listen to me and
try to obey. Blacken your face and fast faithfully, so that the Master
of Life may have pity on you and me, and on us all. Do not in the least
deviate from my counsels, and in two days more I will come to you.”
Segwuna continued to fast for two days more, when her mother came to
the lodge and melted some snow and told her to drink the water. Her
desires were for more, but her mother would not allow anything more to
drink or anything to eat. But she instructed Segwuna to ask the Great
Spirit to show her a vision that would not only do them good, but also
benefit mankind.
The night of the fifth day a voice called to Segwuna in her slumber,
and said:
“Poor child, I pity your condition. Come, you are called into my
service on earth. I give you my power and the life everlasting. I give
you long life on earth and skill in bringing others to my kingdom of
life everlasting in the happy hunting-grounds.”
In her vision she saw a shining path like a silver cord and it led
upward to an opening in the sky, where stood the Great Spirit, in a
brilliant halo, encircled with glistening stars.
“Look at me,” saith the spirit, “my name is the Bright Blue Sky. I am
the veil that covers the earth. Do not fear. You are a pure and dutiful
maiden. You have come to the limit which mortals cannot pass. Now
return. There is a conveyance for you. Do not fear to ride on its back,
and when you get to your lodge, you must take that which sustains the
human body.”
Segwuna saw a snow-white bird soaring like the frigate bird in the
sky, and when she got on its back, she was wafted through the air,--her
hair streaming behind,--and as soon as she arrived at her lodge her
vision ceased.
Upon awakening, Segwuna arose and returned as fast as she could to her
mother’s lodge, where she was fed cautiously by her mother. One could
see that she had undergone a serious transformation. The same tall
willowy form and elastic step were there, but the eyes had changed
their innocent fawn-like gaze to a tense and determined far-away look
that could be interpreted as seriousness and reflection combined.
She went about her duties around the wigwam as though some great
task or burden were weighing her down. And well might those about
her observe her changed manners, for she now deserted the company of
her former playmates and took long and lonely walks through the deep
woods,--resolving silently to serve the Great Spirit the rest of her
life by rendering happy those whom she loved.
The Great Spirit of her forefathers had now wrought in her soul deep
convictions of the duty that she owed to her mother, her brother,
and especially to her kind young friend who lived in the great
mansion-house. The stories that she had heard recited around the
lodge’s fire of the presents made by the great white chief, James
Greydon, to her people, surged through her mind. How kind and gentle
he had always been to the Indians! her kinsfolk! Those were happy days
before the white men had learned the beauties of their old home on the
Monongahela! All the native traits of her race were aroused.
Many times she reasoned thus:
“I can never forgive an injury, nor can I ever forget hospitality and
kindness. My heart bleeds to show the King, our father across the sea,
what great wrong has been done my loved ones, when he sent the great
white birds across the sea that caused the eagle to scream on high.
“My Manitou will bless his Segwuna and teach his daughter to show the
King that when my sky was clear he ought not to send his warlike birds
on the long journey across the water. The King’s warriors shall not
prosper on this side of the great water. Segwuna, the handmaid of the
Great Spirit, shall take her friends over the river, across which the
King’s warriors can not pass. While her friends shall be happy and have
plenty, from this time forth the King shall remain on the other side of
the river and wither and die, because he was so avaricious.”
The small band of Indians at Dorminghurst learned to love and revere
Segwuna. As she grew older she stored up the herbs of the forest and
showed great skill in nursing and curing the young and old of lesser
ailments.
The test of the young prophetess came in the year 1774. The severe
storms and heavy snows of the winter made game very scarce and the
Indians were near starvation. They had, therefore, occasion to try the
arts of Segwuna to determine the range of the game.
So the chief of the band came into the lodge of Segwuna’s mother and
requested that her daughter be allowed to try her skill to relieve
them. The mother laid the request before Segwuna and gained her consent.
The prophetess directed the chief to build the prophet’s lodge of ten
posts or saplings, each of different kinds of wood that she named. When
finished and tightly wound with skins, Segwuna went inside and took a
small drum and rattles with her. The whole band assembled around.
The chief put the question to the prophetess:
“Where shall game be found?”
As if from some supernatural power the drum sounded within the lodge,
and a voice was heard chanting, while the whole structure began to
shake violently, and the people without began to shriek and moan
as though to recognize the presence of the Great Spirit that was
consulted.
A silence fell suddenly upon the lodge, and the people now looked for
an answer to their question.
A voice then arose as from the top of the lodge, which said in slow and
sepulchral tones:
“How short-sighted, you. If you will go in the direction of the south,
game in abundance you will find.”
Next day the camp was taken up, and they all moved to the southward,
led by the hunters. Proceeding not far beyond their former
hunting-grounds a doe and two fawns were killed, and the little band
thereafter found an abundance of food for the rest of the winter.
The reputation of Segwuna was thus established among her own people,
but still greater undertakings were awaiting this handmaiden of the
Great Spirit, not alone for the good that she did for her own people,
but for the benefit of a nation.