University of Virginia Library

Ipswich, near Agawam, May ye 12th.

We set out day before Yesterday on our Journey to
Newbury. There were six of us — Rebecca Rawson
and her sister, Thomas Broughton, his Wife, and their
Man Servant, my brother Leonard and myself, and
young Robert Pike, of Newbury, who had been to Boston
on Business, his Father having great Fisheries in
the River as well as the Sea. He is, I can perceive, a
great Admirer of my Cousin, and indeed not without
Reason; for she atone in Mind and Person, in her
graceful carriage and pleasant Discourse, and a certain
not unpleasing waywardness, as of a merrie child,
that which makes her Companie sought of all. Our
Route the first Day lay thorough the Woods and along

the borders of great Marshes and Meadows on the Sea
shore. We came to Linne at Night, and stopped at
the House of a Kinsman of Robert Pike's — a man of
some substance and note in that Settlement. We
were tired and hungry, and the Supper of warm Indian
Bread and sweet Milk relished quite as well as any I
ever ate in the Old Countrie. The next Day we went
on over a rough Road to Wenham, through Salem,
which is quite a pleasant Town. Here we stopped
until this Morning, when we again mounted our
Horses, and reached this place after a smart Ride of
three hours. The Weather in the Morning was warm
and soft as our Summer Days at Home; and as we
rode through the Woods, where the young Leaves
were fluttering, and the white Blossoms of the Windflowers,
and the blue Violets and the yellow blooming
of the Cowslips in the low Grounds, were seen on either
hand, and the Birds all the Time making a great and
pleasing Melody in the Branches, I was glad of Heart
as a Child, and thought if my beloved Friends and
cousin Oliver were only with us, I could never wish to
leave so fair a Countrie.

Just before we reached Agawam, as I was riding a
little before my Companions, I was startled greatly by
the Sight of an Indian. He was standing close to the
Bridle-path, his half-naked Body partly hidden by a

Clump of white Birches, through which he looked out
on me with Eyes like two live Coals. I cried for my
Brother, and turned my Horse, when Robert Pike came
up, and bid me be of cheer, for he knew the Savage,
and that he was friendly. Whereupon, he bade him
come out of the Bushes, which he did, after a little
parley. He was a tall Man, of very fair and comlie
make, and wore a red woollen Blanket with Beads and
small Clam-Shells jingling about it. His skin was
swarthy, not black like a Moor or Guinea Man, but of
a color not unlike that of tarnished copper Coin. He
spoke but little, and that in his own Tongue, very
harsh and strange sounding to my Ear. Robert Pike
tells me that he is Chief of the Agawams, once a great
Nation in these Parts, but now quite small and broken.
As we rode on, and from the Top of a Hill got a fair
View of the great Sea off at the East, Robert Pike
bade me notice a little Bay, around which I could see
four or five small, peaked Huts or Tents, standing just
where the white Sands of the Beach met the green
line of Grass and Bushes of the Uplands.

“There,” said he, “are their Summer Houses,
which they build near unto their Fishing-grounds and
Corn-fields. In the Winter they go far back into the
Wilderness, where game is plenty of all kinds, and
there build their Wigwams in warm Valleys thick with

Trees, which doe serve to shelter them from the
Winds.”

“Let us look into them,” said I to cousin Rebecca;
“it seems but a Stone's throw from our Way.”

She tried to dissuade me, by calling them a dirty,
foul People; but seeing I was not to be put off, she at
last consented, and we rode aside down the Hill, the
rest following. On our Way we had the Misfortune to
ride over their Corn-field; at the which, two or three
Women and as many Boys set up a yell verie hideous
to hear; whereat Robert Pike came up, and appeased
them by giving them some Money and a Drink of
Jamaica spirits, with which they seemed vastly pleased.
I looked into one of their Huts; it was made of Poles
like unto a Tent, only it was covered with the silver
colored Bark of the Birch, instead of hempen Stuff. A
Bark Mat, braided of manie exceeding brilliant Colors,
covered a goodlie Part of the Space inside; and
from the Poles we saw Fishes hanging, and Strips of
dried Meat. On a pile of Skins in the Corner sat a
young Woman with a Child a nursing; they both looked
sadlie wild and neglected; yet had she withal a
pleasant Face, and as she bent over her little one, her
long, straight and black Hair falling over him and
murmuring a low and very plaintive Melody, I forgot
Every thing save that she was a Woman and a Mother,

and I felt my Hearte greatly drawn towards her. So,
giving my Horse in charge, I ventured in to her, speaking
as kindly as I could, and asking to see her Child.
She understood me, and with a Smile held up her little
papoose, as she called him — who, to say Truth, I
could not call very pretty. He seemed to have a wild,
shy Look, like the Offspring of an untamed Animal.
The Woman wore a Blanket, gaudily fringed, and she
had a string of Beads on her Neck. She took down a
Basket, woven of white and red Willows, and pressed
me to taste of her Bread; which I did, that I might not
offend her Courtesie by refusing. It was not of ill
Taste, although so hard one could scarcely bite it, and
was made of Corn Meal unleavened, mixed with a
dried Berry, which gives it a sweet Flavor. She told
me, in her broken way, that the whole tribe now numbered
only twenty-five Men and Women, counting out
the Number very fast with yellow grains of Corn, on the
Corner of her Blanket. She was, she said, the youngest
Woman in the Tribe; and her husband Peckanaminet,
was the Indian we had met in the Bridle-path. I gave
her a pretty piece of Ribbon, and an Apron for the
Child; and she thanked me in her Manner, going with
us on our return to the Path; and when I had ridden a
little onward, I saw her Husband running towards us;
so stopping my Horse, I awaited until he came up,
when he offered me a fine large Fish, which he had
just caught, in acknowledgment, as I judged, of my
gift to his Wife. Rebecca, and Mistress Broughton
laughed, and bid him take the thing away; but I
would not suffer it, and soe Robert Pike took it, and
brought it on to our present tarrying Place, where
trulie it hath made a faire Supper for us all. These
poor Heathen People seem not so exceeding bad as
they have been reported; they be like unto ourselves,
only lacking our Knowledge and Opportunities,
which, indeed, are not our own to boast of, but Gifts of
God calling for humble Thankfulness, and daily Prayer
and Watchfulness, that they be rightly improved.