Gambar halaman
PDF
ePub

rica, is calculated at two millions; but this is a very rough estimate, and the truth can never be exactly known. A treaty was concluded by the United States in 1794, which comprehended fifty-seven thousand Indian warriors. This would give a population of about half a million comprehended in that treaty, including the aged, the women, and children.

The Indian, with great magnanimity, has a strong natural feeling of justice. An Indian, who had killed a fellow-countryman,

"Sensible that his life was justly forfeited, and anxious to be relieved from a state of suspense, took the resolution to go to the mother of the deceased, an aged widow, whom he addressed in these words: Woman, I know I have killed thy son: he had insulted me, it is true: but still he was thine, and his life was valuable to thee. I therefore, now surrender myself up to thy will. Direct as thou wilt have it, and relieve me speedily from misery.' To which the woman answered: "Thou hast, indeed, killed my son who was dear to me, and the only supporter I had in my old age. One life is already lost, and to take thine on that account, cannot be of any service to me, nor better my situation. Thou hast, however, a son, whom if thou wilt give me in the place of my son whom thou hast slain, all shall be wiped away. The murderer then replied: Mother, my son is yet but a child, ten years old, and can be of no service to thee, but rather a trouble and charge; but here am I truly capable of supporting and maintaining thee: if thou wilt receive me as thy son, nothing shall be wanting on my part to make thee comfortable while thou livest.' The woman approving of the proposal, forthwith adopted him as her son, and took the whole family to her house."

The Indian's swiftness of foot and sagacity in tracing the march of an enemy are well known, and need not be dwelt on here: their attachment to the memory of their deceased friends is a striking and amiable point in their characters. Skenandou, an Oneida chief, who was a Christian, and survived the minister, who had made a convert of him, lived to be a hundred and twenty years old. Just before he died, he said, "I am an aged hemlock. The winds of one hundred years have whistled through my branches. I am dead at top (referring to his blindness.) Why I yet live, the Good Spirit only knows. Pray to Jesus that I may wait my appointed time to die; and when I die lay me by the side of my minister and father, that I may go up with him to the great resurrection."

The Indians have afforded instances of strong sentiment. Schoolcraft relates that " a noble-minded girl, named Oolaita, being attached to a young chief of her own tribe, was commanded by her parents to marry an old warrior, renowned for his wisdom and influence in the nation. It being impossible to avoid the match, she left her father's house while the marriage-feast was preparing, and throwing herself from an awful precipice was dashed in pieces." The Indian does not consider suicide either as an act of cowardice or courage, either as deserving of praise or blame; he rather looks upon the act with pity. It is singular that their language has no genders or descriptions of masculine or feminine species. Every thing in nature they divide into animate and inanimate, and among animate things they include trees and plants. In this way every thing that lives they consider as part of themselves, and they do not exclude animals from the world of spirits. They even think that beasts understand the language of man, as the following anecdote will show.

"A Delaware hunter once shot a huge bear and broke its back bone. The animal fell and set up a most plaintive cry, something like that of a panther when he is hungry. The hunter, instead of giving him another shot, stood up close to him, and addressed him in these words: Hark ye! bear; you are a coward, and no warrior, as you pretend to be. Were you a warrior you would shew it by your firmness, and not cry and whimper like an old woman. You know, bear, that our tribes are at war with each other, and that yours was the aggressor. You have found the Indians too powerful for you, and you have gone sneaking about in the woods, stealing their hogs: perhaps at this time you have hog's flesh in your belly. Had you conquered me, I would have borne it with courage and died like a brave warrior; but you, bear, sit here and cry, and disgrace your tribe by your cowardly conduct.' I was present at the delivery of this curious invective. When the hunter

had dispatched the bear, I asked him how he thought the poor animal could understand what he said to it. 'Oh!' said he in answer, the bear understood me very well; did you not observe how ashamed he looked while I was upbraiding him?'"

Some of the Indians believe that the evil spirit is the maker of spirituous liquors, from which, notwithstanding, too many of them cannot refrain. Yet there have been numerous instances to the contrary, when drunkenness has urged them to commit some crime which in their sober moments they held in detestation.

"An Indian, who had been born and brought up at Minisink, near the Delaware water-gap, and to whom the German inhabitants of that neighbourhood had given the name of Cornelius Rosenbaum, told Mr. Hechewelder, near fifty years ago, that he had once, when under the influence of strong liquor, killed the best Indian friend he had, fancying him to be his worst avowed enemy. He said that the deception was complete, and that while intoxicated, the face of his friend presented to his eyes all the features of the man with whom he was in a state of hostility. It is impossible to express the horror with which he was struck when he awoke from that delusion; he was so shocked, that he from that moment resolved never more to taste of the maddening poison, of which he was convinced the devil was the inventor; for it could only be the evil spirit who made him see his enemy when his friend was before him, and produced so strong a delusion on his bewildered senses that he actually killed him. From that time until his death, which happened thirty years afterwards, he never drank a drop of ardent spirits, which he always called the Devil's blood,' and was firmly persuaded that the devil, or some of his inferior spirits, had a hand in preparing it."

The following is a proof of their love of justice getting the better of private friendship, which latter takes a very strong hold of the Indian's bosom. A white ruffian, named Williamson, with a gang of banditti, had murdered a number of Moravian or Christian Indians, who, like the Quakers, will not fight even in their own defence. He set out a second time on a similar marauding and butchering expedition to the Sandusky river he was accompanied by a person named Crawford: but a fighting tribe of Indians had hid their Moravian brethren in a place of security, and awaiting the advance of Williamson and his party, attacked and put them to the rout. This Crawford and another white person were made prisoners, and very justly condemned to death, having been in the attacking party. Crawford had been on terms of intimacy with a chief named Wingenund, and just as he was led to the stake he was induced to ask for him in order that by his interference he might preserve his life. Crawford apologised for accompanying Williamson, by stating that he did so to prevent further mischief, and that no Indians

were killed. Wingenund told him that was because the defenceless men had been removed—that Indian spies had watched all his movements and knew them all. That they were not Moravians but fighting men, and that when Williamson found they were not so he and his cowardly host ran away from the Indian bullets-he finally said :-

"Had Williamson been taken with you, I and some friends, by making use of what you have told me, might perhaps have succeeded to save you, but as the matter now stands, no man would dare to interfere in your behalf. The King of England himself, were he to come to this spot, with all his wealth and treasures, could not effect this purpose. The blood of the innocent Moravians, more than half of them women and children, cruelly and wantonly murdered, calls aloud for revenge. The relatives of the slain, who are among us, cry out and stand ready for revenge. The nation to which they belong will have revenge. The Shawanese, our grand-children, have asked for your fellow-prisoner; on him they will take revenge! All the nations connected with us, cry out, revenge! revenge! The Moravians whom you went to destroy have fled instead of avenging their brethren; the offence is become national, and the nation itself is bound to take revenge!

"Crawf. Then it seems my fate is decided and I must prepare to meet death in its worst form?'

"Wingen. Yes, Colonel! I am sorry for it; but I cannot do any thing for you. Had you attended to the Indian principle, that as good and evil cannot dwell together in the same heart, so a good man ought not to go into evil company, you would not be in this lamentable situation. You see it now when it is too late, after Williamson has deserted you; what a bad man he must be! Nothing now remains for you but to meet your fate like a brave man. Farewell, Colonel Crawford! they are coming; I will retire.'

"I have been assured by respectable Indians that at the close of this conversation, which was related to me by Wingenund himself as well as by others, both he and Crawford burst into a flood of tears; they then took an affectionate leave of each other, and the chief immediately hid himself in the bushes, as the Indians express it, or in his own language, retired to a solitary spot,"

That a race which often exhibits traits of character worthy of being imitated in civilized countries, should be suffered to dwindle away, a prey to the vices and rapacity of the dregs of the white people, is deeply to be deplored. It is a good subject for that philanthropy to work upon, which is now extending itself upon nations much more rude and barbarous. We have also to repay these unfortunate Indians for the calamities we have been the means of inflicting upon them; and it is to be hoped that the laudable attempts of such men as Mr. Hunter and the missionary Hechewelder, and the less active but not less good-intentioned efforts of Mr. Buchanan, will kindle a feeling of disinterested benevolence towards the aboriginal inhabitants of America, and induce the Canadian and American Governments to punish any oppressions and insults they may receive from the colonists of these nations respectively. A diligent examination into the subject must convince the most prejudiced, that the Indian of North America has fewer vices and more noble points of character, than can be found elsewhere on the globe among an unenlightened people, though none have been more wronged, belied, and persecuted.

EXTRACTS FROM MY AUNT MARTHA'S DIARY.

66 I some lady trifles have reserved,

Immoment toys, things of such dignity

As we great modern friends withal."-SHAKSPEARE.

DINED at Colonel Hackett's-an elegant party, and a very genteel dinner of eleven, and wine with a remove, and an excellent dessert. Miss Lockhart. (some people call her Miss Lack-heart,) thought it was badly dressed and rather shabby, but I can't say it struck me so. To be sure the lemon-pudding was shockingly smoked, the pheasant was roasted to rags, and the anchovy toast as salt as brine; but as to their filling the table with an epergne, serving rabbit-currie instead of chickens, and substituting clouted-cream for a nice trifle in the glass-dish, I think nothing of it, for I never knew it otherwise at Okeover-Hall. At all events, it wasn't for Miss L-- to make the observation, considering the kindness she has experienced from the Colonel, who is certainly a very worthy man; and indeed it is a mark of a little mind in any body, to notice such insignificant matters. Considering he has been so long in India, it is very extraordinary that one never gets a good currie at, his house. I wonder when Mrs. H-means to leave off her striped-gown she wore it at the race-ball last year; besides, stripes are out. Sir Hildebrand Harbottle asked me to drink champagne with him. Dr. Hippuff was called out at dinner-time, or rather just as it was over; they say he always contrives it about the time of the dessert. -Mr. Bishop has not been.

Saw Widow Waters's cows feeding in Okeover church-yard—a scandalous proceeding! I wouldn't taste a drop of their milk upon any consideration! Mem. to deal in future with Mrs. Carter. Somebody said yesterday Sir Hildebrand was full of the milk of human kindness. It seems an odd expression applied to a man, and one too, whose face is of a deep claret-colour from the quantity of wine he drinks. Dryden, indeed, has the phrase "milkiness of blood."--When Mr. Fox the apothecary so kindly offered to take me to the Colonel's and bring me back in his one-horse carriage, I little thought he would call to-day to borrow five and thirty pounds. The poor man has a large family and healthy neighbourhood to struggle with, so I let him have the money; but I wonder such people can think of marrying. I never did, though it is well known I had many opportunities. If Mr. Bishop thinks he has any chance, I can assure him he is very much mistaken.

Mrs. Joliffe called, and in the course of conversation wondered I didn't keep a carriage of some sort, on purpose to introduce the mention of her own new one, (as she called it) though it has only been fresh painted. She knows very well that I always hire one when I want it, and I should therefore possess no advantage in a carriage of my own, except that of having it when I do not want it. She hoped I wasn't bilious-what can have put such a fancy in her head? However, I shall take a couple of Lady de Crespigny's dinner-pills to-night. I don't like that Mrs. J.-What's become of Mr. Bishop, I wonder.

Met the Miss Penfolds and Mrs. Saxby in High-street, who thought it an age since they had seen me, but I called upon them last, and they may depend upon it I shall not go again till they return my visit. This morning Sir Simon Sowerby's lady produced her eleventh child; same

day our cat kittened :-told Peggy to drown three of the young ones: -wonder Sir Simon doesn't give a similar order. Surely there is something indecorous in all this-no visit or letter from Mr. Bishop!!

Tapped the cask of beer brewed by the gardener, and told Peggy to take a large jug down to poor Mrs. Carter. She is a very deserving woman, though I cannot quite agree in what she said last Wednesdaythat I was looking younger than ever. However, I certainly wear better than sister Margaret, though she is three years younger, but then, poor thing! she has had a family, and I have not. Heigho!-Something must have happened to Mr. Bishop!!

An excellent sermon this morning from good Dr. Drawlington. He bitterly inveighed against the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, particularly in the article of dress and personal decoration. I thought Mrs. Picton, who paints white and red, looked a little confused, and several of the congregation turned their eyes on the Miss Penfolds, who are always as fine as horses, and this day wore flaming new pelisses. Mrs. George Gubbins, too, had a new Gros-de-Naples silk bonnet and feathers, much too expensive for one in her circumstances. Thank Heaven! nobody can accuse me upon this point. Luckily I wore my old Leghorn bonnet, though I doubt whether any body would know it for the same, now it is fresh trimmed with cherry-coloured ribbons; and it is certainly much more becoming since I have lined it with pink. Saw something like a crow's foot at the corner of each eye while dressing this morning, which must be entirely owing to the dry weather, and my having such a sleepless night;-brought a curl over each, so as to hide it. Mr. and Mrs. Saxby with Miss Pocklington called after church, but fortunately not till I had put on my blonde cap with amber ribbons, and I took care to sit with my back to the windows. None but very young people should ever sit fronting the light. Mrs. Shad a gold watch and chain dangling outside, with amethyst bracelets over her long gloves, and Miss Pa fine pink China-crape pelisse, trimmed with white satin, and a dozen feathers in her hat. We all admired the sermon very much, and hoped some of our neighbours would be benefited by it.-Mr. Bishop not at church!!

What awful times we live in! The papers full of fresh revolutions : Europe and America both in a blaze! What are our little individual vexations, when compared with these portentous troubles of kings and empires, especially as we are such transitory beings, here to-day and gone to-morrow? By the by I shall pass Mrs. Davies's shop to-morrow, and I must not forget to change the silk gimp I bought last Friday, which is dreadfully bad. I do think galloon would do better.

It is really quite melancholy to see poor Mr. Gingham since he retired from the haberdashery business, how much he seems to be at a loss to get through the day, and how dreadfully he wastes his time! I have been watching him the whole morning taking the dimensions of his garden-wall a dozen times over with a yard-measure, sitting in the sun twiddlings his thumbs for an hour at a time, looking vacantly over the gate and yawning, and then going to sit in the sun again. "While I a moment name, a moment's past," says Dr. Young. He should read Dr. Watts on the Abuse of Time. Mrs. Blinkensop's dawdle of a maid put up the posts for drying linen early this morning, and has been three-quarters of an hour, for I never took my eyes off, in spreading

« SebelumnyaLanjutkan »