University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.

Before the Europeans, or, to use a more significant
term, the Christians, dispossessed the original
owners of the soil, all that section of country,
which contains the New-England States, and
those of the Middle, which lie east of the mountains,
was occupied by two great nations of Indians,
from whom numberless tribes had descended.
But, as the original distinctions between
these nations, were marked by a difference in language,
as well as by repeated and bloody wars,
they never were known to amalgamate, until after
the power and inroads of the whites had reduced
some of the tribes to a state of dependence, that
rendered not only their political, but, considering
the wants and habits of a savage, their animal existence
also, extremely precarious.

These two great divisions consisted, on the one
side, of the Five, or, as they were afterwards called,
the Six Nations, and their allies; and, on the
other, of the Lenni Lenape, or Delawares, with
the numerous and powerful tribes, that owned that
nation as their Grandfather. The former were

generally called, by the Anglo-Americans, Iroquois,
or the Six Nations, and sometimes Mingoes.
Their appellation, among their rivals,
seems generally to have been the Mengwe, or Maqua.
They consisted of the tribes, or, as their
allies were fond of asserting, in order to raise their
consequence, of the several nations, of the Mohawks,
the Oneidas, the Onondagas, Cayugas,
and Senecas; who ranked, in the consideration,
in the order with which they are named. The
Tuscaroras were admitted to this union, near a
century after its formation, and thus completed the
number to six.

Of the Lenni Lenape, or, as they were called by
the whites, from the circumstance of their holding
their great council-fire on the banks of that river,
the Delaware nation, the principal tribes, besides
that which bore the genetic name, were, the Mahicanni,
Mohicans or Mohegans, and the Nanticokes,
or Néntigoes. Of these, the latter held the
country along the waters of the Chesapeake, and
the seashore; while the Mohegans occupied the
district between the Hudson and the ocean, including
most of New-England. Of course, these
two tribes were the first who were dispossessed of
their lands by the Europeans.

The wars of a portion of the latter, are celebrated
among us, as the wars of King Philip; but
the peaceful policy of William Penn. or Miquon,
as he was termed by the natives, effected its object,
with less difficulty, though not with less certainty.
As the natives gradually disappeared
from the country of the Mohegans, some scattering
families sought a refuge around the council-fire
of the mother tribe, or the Delawares.

This people had been induced to suffer themselves
to be called women, by their old enemies,
the Mingoes, or Iroquois, after the latter, having

in vain tried the effects of hostility, had recourse
to artifice, in order to circumvent their rivals.—
According to this declaration, the Delawares
were to cultivate the arts of peace, and to intrust
their defence, entirely, to the men, or warlike
tribes of the Six nations.

This state of things continued until the war of
the revolution, when the Lenni Lenape formally
asserted their independence, and fearlessly declared,
that they were again men. But, in a government,
so peculiarly republican as the Indian polity,
it was not, at all times, an easy task, to restrain
their members within the rules of their nation.
Several fierce and renowned warriors, of
the Mohegans, finding the conflict with the whites
to be in vain, sought a refuge with their Grandfather,
and brought with them the feelings and
principles, that had so long distinguished them in
their own tribe. These chieftains kept alive, in
some measure, the martial spirit of the Delawares;
and would, at times, lead small parties against
their ancient enemies, or such other foes as incurred
their resentment.

Among these warriors, was one race, particularly
famous for their prowess, and for those qualities
that render an Indian hero celebrated. But
time, disease, and want, had conspired to thin
their number; and the sole representative of this
once renowned family, now stood in the hall of
Marmaduke Temple. He had, for a long time
been an associate of the white-men, particularly
in their wars; and, having been, at a season
when his services were of importance, much noticed
and flattered, he had turned Christian, and
was baptized by the name of John. He had suffered
severely in his family, during the recent
war, having had every soul to whom he was allied,
cut off by an inroad of the enemy; and when

the last, lingering remnant of his nation, extinguished
their fires, amongst the hills of the Delaware,
he alone had remained, with a determination
of laying his bones in that country, where
his fathers had so long lived and governed.

It was only, however, within a few months, that
he had appeared among the mountains that surrounded
Templeton. To the hut of the old hunter,
he seemed peculiarly welcome; and, as the habits
of the “Leather Stocking,” were so nearly assimilated
to those of the savages, the conjunction
of their interests excited no surprise. They resided
in the same cabin, ate of the same food, and
were chiefly occupied in the same pursuits.

We have already mentioned the baptismal name
of this ancient chief; but in his conversations with
Natty, held in the language of the Delawares, he
was heard uniformly to call himself Chingachgook,
which, interpreted, means the “Great Snake.”
This was a name that he had attained in his youth,
by his skill and prowess in the art of war; but
when his brows began to wrinkle with time, and
he stood alone, the last of his family, and his particular
tribe, the few Delawares, who yet continued
about the head-waters of their river, gave him
the expressive appellation of Mohegan. Perhaps
there was something of deep feeling, excited in the
bosom of this inhabitant of the forest, by the sound
of a name, that recalled the idea of his nation in
ruins, for he seldom used it himself—never, indeed,
excepting on the most solemn occasions;
but the settlers had united, according to the Christian
custom, his baptismal with his national name,
and to them, he was generally known as John
Mohegan, or, more familiarly as Indian John.

From his long association with the white men,
the habits of Mohegan, were a mixture of the civilized

and savage states, though there was certainly
a strong preponderance in favour of the
latter. In common with all his people, who dwelt
within the influence of the Anglo-Americans, he
had acquired new wants, and his dress was a mixture
of his native fashions with European manufactures.
Notwithstanding the intense cold of the
atmosphere without, his head was uncovered;
but a profusion of long, black, coarse hair, concealed
his forehead, his crown, and even hung
about his cheeks, so as to convey the idea, to one
who knew his present and former conditions, that
he encouraged its abundance, as a willing veil, to
hide the shame of a noble soul, mourning for a
glory that it had once known. His forehead, when
it could be seen, appeared lofty, broad, and noble.
His nose was high, and of the kind called Roman,
with nostrils, that expanded, in his seventieth year,
with the air of freedom that had distinguished them
when a youth. His mouth was large, but compressed,
and possessing a great share of expression
and character, and, when opened, discovered
a perfect set of short, strong, and regular teeth.
His chin was full, though not prominent; and his
face bore the infallible mark of his people, in its
square, high cheek bones. The eyes were not large,
but their black orbs glittered in the rays of the
candles, as he gazed intently down the hall, like
two balls of fire.

The instant that Mohegan observed himself to
be noticed by the group around the young stranger,
he dropped the blanket, which covered the
upper part of his frame, from his shoulders, suffering
it to fall over his leggins, of untanned deerskin,
where it was retained by a belt of bark, that
confined it to his waist, and moved forward.

As he walked slowly down the long hall, the
unusually dignified and deliberate tread of the Indian,

surprised the spectators. His shoulders,
and body to his waist, were entirely bare, with
the exception of a silver medallion of Washington,
that was suspended from his neck by a thong of
buck-skin, and rested on his high chest, amidst the
scars of many wounds. His shoulders were rather
broad and full; but the arms, though straight and
graceful, wanted the muscular appearance that labour
alone can give to a race of men. The medallion
was the only ornament he wore, although
enormous slits in the rim of either ear, which suffered
the cartilages to fall for two inches below the
members, were evidently used for the purposes of
decoration, in other days. In his hand he held a
small basket, of the ash-wood slips, coloured in divers
fantastical conceits, with red and black paints
mingled with the white of the wood.

As this child of the forest approached them, the
whole party stood aside, and allowed him to confront
the evident object of his visit. He did not
speak, however, but stood, fixing his glowing eyes
on the shoulder of the young hunter, and then
turning them intently on the countenance of the
Judge. The latter was a good deal astonished
at this unusual departure from the ordinarily subdued
and quiet manner of the Indian; but soon
recovering himself, he extended his hand, and
said—

“Thou art welcome, John. This youth entertains
a high opinion of thy skill, it seems, for he
prefers thee, to dress his wound, even to our good
friend Dr. Todd.”

Mohegan now spoke, in tolerable English, but
in a low, monotonous, guttural tone:—

“The children of Miquon do not love the
sight of blood; and yet, the young eagle has
been struck by the hand that should do no evil!”

“Mohegan! old John!” exclaimed the Judge,
in horror, and turning his fine, manly, open countenance
to the other; “thinkest thou, that my hand
has ever drawn human blood willingly? For
shame! for shame, old John! thy religion should
have taught thee better.”

“The evil spirit sometimes lives in the best
heart,” returned John, impressively, as he tried to
study the countenance of the Judge; “but, my
brother speaks the truth; his hand has never taken
life, when awake; no! not even when the children
of the great English Father, were making the waters
red with the blood of his people.”

“Surely, John,” said Mr. Grant, with much
earnestness, “you remember the divine command
of our Saviour, `judge not, lest ye be judged.'
What motive could Judge Temple have, for injuring
a youth like this; one to whom he is unknown,
and from whom he can receive neither injury nor
favour?”

John listened respectfully to the divine, and
when he had concluded, the Indian stretched out
his arm, and said with energy—

“He is innocent—my brother has not done this
wrong.”

Marmaduke received the offered hand of the
other, with a benevolent smile, that showed, however
he might be astonished at his suspicion, he
had ceased to resent it; while the wounded youth
stood, gazing from his red friend to his host, with
an expression of scornful pity, powerfully delineated
in his countenance. No sooner was this act
of pacification exchanged, than John proceeded to
discharge the duty, to perform which he had
come. Dr. Todd was far from manifesting any
displeasure at this invasion of his rights, but
made way for the new leech, with an air that expressed
a willingness to gratify the humours of

his patient, now that the all-important part of the
business was so successfully performed, and nothing
remained to be done, but what any child
might effect. Indeed, he whispered as much to
Monsieur Le Quoi, when he said—

“It was fortunate that the ball was extracted
before this Indian came in; but any old woman
can dress the wound now. The young man, I
hear, lives with John and Natty Bumppo, and it's
always best to humour a patient, when it can be
done discreetly—I say, discreetly, Mounsheer.”

“Certainement,” returned the Frenchman;
“you seem ver happy, Mister Toad, in your practeece.
I should tink de elderly lady might ver
well finish, vat you so skeelfully begin.”

But Richard had, at the bottom, a great deal of
veneration for the knowledge of Mohegan, especially
in external wounds; and retaining all his
desire for a participation in glory, he advanced
nigh to the Indian, and said—

“Sago, sago, Mohegan! sago, my good fellow!
I am right glad you have come; give me a regular
physician, like Doctor Todd, to cut into flesh,
and a native to heal the wound. Do you remember,
John, the time when I and you set the bone
of Natty Bumppo's little finger, after he broke it
by falling from the rock, when he was trying to
get the partridge down, that fell on the cliffs. I
never could tell yet, whether it was I or Natty,
who killed that bird: he fired first, and the bird
stooped, but then it was rising again, just as I
pulled trigger. I should have claimed it, for a
certainty, but Natty said the hole was too big for
shot, and he fired a single ball from his rifle; but
the piece I carried then, didn't scatter, and I have
known it to bore a hole through a board, when
I've been shooting at the mark, very much like

rifle-bullets. Shall I help you, John? “You know
that I have a knack at these things.”

Mohegan heard this disquisition quite patiently,
and when Richard concluded, he held out the
basket, which contained his specifics, indicating,
by a gesture, that he might hold it. Mr. Jones
was quite satisfied with this commission; and, ever
after, in speaking of the event, was used to say,
that “Doctor Todd and I cut out the bullet and
I and Indian John dressed the wound.”

The patient was much more deserving of that
epithet, while under the hands of Mohegan, than
while suffering under the practice of the true physician.
Indeed, the Indian gave him but little opportunity
for the exercise of a forbearing temper,
as he had come prepared for the occasion. His
dressings were soon applied, and consisted only
of some pounded bark, moistened with a fluid
that he had expressed from some of the simples of
the woods.

Among the native tribes of the forest, there
were always two kinds of leeches to be met with.
The one placed its whole dependence on the exercise
of a supernatural power, and was held in
greater veneration than their practice could at all
justify; but the other was really endowed with
great skill, in the ordinary complaints of the human
body, and were, more particularly, as Natty
had intimated, “curous in cuts and bruises.”

While John and Richard were placing the
dressings on the wound, Elnathan was acutely
eyeing the contents of Mohegan's basket, which
Mr. Jones, in his physical ardour, had transferred
to the Doctor, in order to hold, himself, one end
of the bandages. Here he was soon enabled to
detect sundry fragments of wood and bark, of
which he, quite coolly, took possession, very possibly
without any intention of speaking at all upon

the subject; but when he beheld the full, blue eye
of Marmaduke, watching his movements, he whispered
to the Judge—

“It is not to be denied, Judge Temple, but
what the savages are knowing, in small matters of
physic. They hand these things down in their
traditions. Now, in cancers, and hydrophoby,
they are quite ingenious. I will just take this
bark home, and analyze it; for, though it can't
be worth sixpence to the young man's shoulder, it
may be good for the toothach, or rheumatis, or
some of them complaints. A man should never
be above larning, even if it be from an Indian.”

It was fortunate for Dr. Todd, that his principles
were so liberal, as, coupled with his practice,
they were the means by which he acquired all his
knowledge, and by which he was gradually qualifying
himself for the duties of his profession.
The process to which he subjected the specific, differed,
however, greatly from the ordinary rules of
chemistry; for, instead of separating, he afterwards
united the component parts of Mohegan's remedy,
and thus was able to discover the tree whence the
Indian had taken it.

Some ten years after this event, when civilization
and its refinements had crept, or rather rushed, into
the settlements among these wild hills, an affair
of honour occurred, and Elnathan was seen to apply
a salve to the wound that was received by one
of the parties, which had the flavour that was peculiar
to the tree, or root, that Mohegan had used.
Ten years later still, when England and the United
States were again engaged in war, and the
hordes of the western parts of the state of New-York,
were rushing to the field, Elnathan, presuming
on the reputation obtained by these two operations,
followed in the rear of a brigade of militia,
as its surgeon!

When Mohegan had applied the bark, he freely
relinquished to Richard the needle and thread,
that were used in sowing the bandages, for these
were implements of which the native but little understood
the use; and, stepping back, with decent
gravity, awaited the completion of the business by
the other.

“Reach me the scissors,” said Mr. Jones, when
he had finished, and finished for the second time,
after tying the linen in every shape and form
that it could be placed; “reach me the scissors,
for here is a thread that must be cut off, or it
might get under the dressings, and inflame the
wound. See, John, I have put the lint I scraped,
between two layers of the linen; for though the
bark is certainly best for the flesh, yet the lint
will serve to keep the cold air from the wound.
If any lint will do it good, it is this lint; for I
scraped it myself, and I will not turn my back, at
scraping lint, to any man on the Patent. But I
ought to know how, if any body ought, for my
grandfather was a doctor, and my father had a natural
turn that way.”

“Here, Squire, is the scissors,” said Remarkable,
producing from beneath her petticoat of green
moreen, a pair of dull-looking shears; “well, upon
my say so, you have sewed on the rags, as well
as a woman.”

“As well as a woman!” echoed Richard, with
indignation; “what do women know of such matters?
and you are proof of the truth of what I
say. Who ever saw such a pair of shears used
about a wound? Dr. Todd, I will thank you for
the scissors from the case. Now, young man, I
think you'll do. The shot has been very neatly
taken out, although, perhaps, seeing I had a hand
in it, I ought not to say so; and the wound is
most admirably dressed. You will soon be well

again; though the jerk you gave my leaders, must
have a tendency to inflame the shoulder, yet, you
will do, you will do. You were rather flurried, I
suppose, and not used to horses; but I forgive the
accident, for the motive:—no doubt, you had the
best of motives;—yes, yes, now you will do.”

“Then, gentlemen,” said the wounded stranger,
rising, and resuming his clothes, “it will be
unnecessary for me to trespass longer on your
time and patience. There remains but one thing
more to be settled, and that is, our respective rights
to the deer, Judge Temple.”

“I acknowledge it to be thine,” said Marmaduke;
“and much more deeply am I indebted to
thee, than for this piece of venison. But in the
morning thou wilt call here, and we can adjust
this, as well as more important matters. Elizabeth,”—for
the young lady, being apprised that
the wound was dressed, had re-entered the hall,—
“thou wilt order a repast, for this youth, before
we proceed to the church; and Aggy will have a
sleigh prepared, to convey him to his friend.”

“But, sir, I cannot go without a part of the
deer,” returned the youth, seemingly struggling
with his own feelings: “I have already told you,
that I needed the venison for myself.”

“Oh! we will not be particular,” exclaimed
Richard; “the Judge will pay you, in the morning,
for the whole deer; and, Remarkable, give
the lad all of the animal excepting the saddle: so,
on the whole, I think, you may consider yourself
as a very lucky young man;—you have been
shot, without being disabled; have had the wound
dressed in the best possible manner, here in the
woods, as well as it would have been done in the
Philadelphia hospital, if not better; have sold
your deer at a high price and yet can keep most
of the carcass, with the skin in the bargain. 'Marky,

tell Tom to give him the skin too; and in the
morning, bring the skin to me, and I will give
you half-a-dollar for it, or at least, three-and-six-pence.
I want just such a skin, to cover the pillion
that I am making for cousin Bess.”

“I thank you, sir, for your liberality, and, I
trust, am also thankful for my escape,” returned
the stranger; “but you reserve the very part of
the animal that I wish for my own use. I must
have the saddle myself.”

“Must!” echoed Richard; “must is harder to
be swallowed than the horns of the buck.”

“Yes, must,” repeated the youth; when, turning
his head proudly around him, as if to see who
would dare to controvert his rights, he met the
astonished gaze of Elizabeth, and proceeded more
mildly—“that is, if a man is allowed the possession
of that which his hand hath killed, and the
law will protect him in the enjoyment of his
own.”

“The law will do so,” said Judge Temple,
with an air of mortification, mingled with surprise.
“Benjamin, see that the whole deer is placed
in the sleigh; and have this youth conveyed
to the hut of Leather-stocking. But, young man,
thou hast a name, and I shall see you again, in
order to compensate thee for the wrong I have
done thee?”

“I am called Edwards,” returned the hunter,
“Oliver Edwards. I am easily to be seen, sir,
for I live nigh by, and am not afraid to show my
face, having never injured any man.”

“It is we, who have injured you sir,” said Elizabeth;
“and the knowledge that you decline
our assistance would give my father great pain.
He would gladly see you in the morning.”

The young hunter gazed at the fair speaker,

until his earnest look brought the blood to her
very temples; when, recollecting himself, he bent
his head, dropping his eyes to the carpet, and replied—

“In the morning, then, will I return, and see
Judge Temple; and I will accept his offer of the
sleigh, in token of our amity.”

“Amity!” repeated Marmaduke; “there was
no malice in the act that injured thee, young man;
there should be none in the feelings which it may
engender.”

“Forgive our trespasses, as we forgive those
who trespass against us,” observed Mr. Grant, “is
the language of prayer, used by our Divine Master
himself, and it should be the golden rule of us,
his humble followers.”

The stranger stood a moment, lost in thought,
and then, glancing his dark eyes, rather wildly,
around the hall, he bowed low to the divine, and
moved from the apartment, with an air that would
not admit of detention.

“'Tis strange, that one so young should harbour
such feelings of resentment,” said Marmaduke,
when the door closed behind the stranger;
“but while the pain is recent, and the sense of the
injury is so fresh, he must feel more strongly than
in his cooler moments. I doubt not, we shall see
him, in the morning, more tractable.”

Elizabeth, to whom this speech was addressed,
did not reply, but moved slowly up the hall, by
herself, fixing her eyes on the little figure of the
English ingrained carpet, that covered the floor;
while, on the other hand. Richard gave a loud
crack with his whip, as the stranger disappeared,
and cried—

“Well, 'duke, you are your own master, but I
would have tried law for the saddle, before I would
have given it to the fellow. Do you not own the

mountains, as well as the valleys? are not the
woods your own? what right has this chap, or
the Leather-stocking, to shoot in your woods,
without your permission? Now, I have known
a farmer, in Pennsylvania, order a sportsman off
his farm, with as little ceremony as I would order
Benjamin to put a log in the stove. By-the-by,
Benjamin, see how the thermometer stands.
Now, if a man has a right to do this on a farm
of a hundred acres, what power must a landlord
have, who owns sixty thousand—ay! for the matter
of that, including the late purchases, a hundred
thousand? There is Mohegan, to be-sure,
he may have some right, being a native; but it's
little the poor fellow can do now with his rifle.
How is this managed in France, Monsieur Le
Quoi? do you let every body run over your land,
in that country, helter-skelter, as they do here,
shooting the game, so that a gentleman has but
little or no chance with his gun?”

“Bah! diable, no, Meester Deeck,” replied the
Frenchman; “we give, in France, no liberty, except
to de ladi.”

“Yes, yes, to the women, I know,” said Richard;
“that is your Sallick law. I read, sir, all
kinds of books; of France, as well as England;
of Greece, as well as Rome. But if I were in
'duke's place, I would stick up advertisements tomorrow
morning, forbidding all persons to shoot,
or trespass, in any manner, on my woods. I
could write such an advertisement myself, in an
hour, as would put a stop to the thing at once.”

“Richart,” said Major Hartmann, very coolly
knocking the ashes from his pipe into the spittingbox
by his side, “now listen: I have livet seventy-five
years on ter Mohawk, and in ter woots.—
You hat petter mettle as mit ter deyvel, as mit ter

hunters. Tey live mit ter gun, and a rifle is
petter as ter law.”

“A'nt Marmaduke a Judge?” said Richard,
indignantly. “Where is the use of being a Judge,
or having a Judge, if there is no law? Damn the
fellow! I have a great mind to sue him in the
morning myself, before Squire Doolittle, for meddling
with my leaders. I am not afraid of his rifle.
I can shoot too. I have hit a dollar, many
a time, at fifty rods.”

“Thou hast missed more dollars than ever thou
hast hit, Dickon,” exclaimed the cheerful voice of
the Judge again.—“But we will now take our
evening's repast, which, I perceive by Remarkable's
physiognomy, is in the next room. Monsieur
Le Quoi, Miss Temple has a fair hand, at your
service. Will you lead the way, my child?”

“Ah! ma chere Mam'selle, but too happy to
do so,” said the polite Frenchman, while he offered
his hand; “it is de consolashong, in my baneesh,
to meet a smile from de fair ladi.”

Mr. Grant and Mohegan, continued in the hall,
while the remainder of the party withdrew to an
eating parlour, if we except Benjamin, who civilly
remained, to close the rear after the divine, and to
open the front door, for the exit of the Indian.

“John,” said the divine, when the figure of
Judge Temple disappeared, the last of the group,
“to-morrow is the festival of the nativity of our
blessed Redeemer, when the church has appointed
prayers and thanksgivings, to be offered up by
her children, and when all are invited to partake
of the mystical elements. As you have taken up
the cross, and become a follower of good, and an
eschewer of evil, John, I trust I shall see you before
the altar, with a contrite heart and a meek
spirit.”

“John will come,” said the Indian, betraying

no surprise, though he did not understand all the
terms used by the other.

“Yes,” continued Mr. Grant, laying his hand
gently on the tawny shoulder of the aged chief,
“but it is not enough to be there in the body only;
you must come in the spirit, and in truth. The
Redeemer died for all, for the poor Indian, as
well as for the white man. Heaven knows no difference
in colour; nor must earth witness a separation
of the church. It is good and profitable,
John, to freshen the understanding, and support
the wavering, by the observance of our holy festivals;
but all form is but stench, in the nostrils of
the Holy One, unless it be accompanied by a devout
and humble spirit.”

The Indian stepped back a little, and, raising
his body to its utmost powers of erection, he
stretched his right arm on high, and dropped his
fore-finger downward, as if pointing from the heavens,
and striking his other hand on his naked
breast, he said, with energy—

“The eye of the Great Spirit can see from the
clouds;—the bosom of Mohegan is bare!”

“It is well, John, and I hope you will receive
profit and consolation from the performance of
this duty. The Great Spirit overlooks none of
his children; and the man of the woods is as
much an object of his care, as he who dwells in a
palace. I wish you a good night, and pray God
to bless you.”

The Indian bent his head, and they separated—
the one to seek his hut, and the other to join the
party at the supper-table. While Benjamin was
opening the door for the passage of the chief, he
cried, in a tone that was meant to be quite consoling—

“The parson says the word that is true, John.
If-so-be that they took count of the colour of a

skin in heaven, why, they might refuse to muster
on their books a christian-born, like myself, just
for the matter of a little tan, from cruising in
warm latitudes; though, for the matter of that, this
damned nor-wester is enough to whiten the skin of
a blackamoor. Let the reefs out of your blanket,
man, or your red hide will hardly weather the
night, without a touch from the frost.”