Indian reminiscences being in order, one of our party related the following:
SARAH ARBUCKLE AND THE INDIAN CHIEF.
A STORY OF FRONTIER LIFE IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.
“Sarah Arbuckle came to this country, with her father and brothers, about 1740, when she was sixteen years old. They settled in the midst of a dense wilderness, where the town of Merrimac now stands, many miles from neighbors, and she was their housekeeper. It was so lonely that many times a day, she would step out-of-doors to listen for the sound of their axes, and if it ceased for any length of time, she would tremble with fear lest the Indians or wild beasts had attacked them.
“One morning she was stooping over the fireplace, making the ‘stirabout’ (Indian hasty pudding) for breakfast, when a shadow falling across the floor startled her, and turning hastily to the open door, she was frightened almost to death at the sight of a gigantic Indian standing at the threshold, with blood streaming down all over one side of his face. He tried to speak to her, but she could not understand him. When she was a little over her fright, she saw that there was an arrow sticking in his eye, which he wanted her to remove. She plucked up courage, drew the arrow out, dressed the wound, gave him food, and he stayed there and was cared for a few days, and then disappeared in the woods. Some years after this occurrence, a war broke out between the Indians and settlers, and the Arbuckles were preparing to remove to the garrison house for safety, when, one evening, a band of Indians, with fearful yells, burst in the doors of their house, and the tomahawk was just descending on Sarah’s head, when at a word spoken by a chief, who rushed in after them, every warrior dropped his hand, and silently, one after another, filed out into the darkness, leaving the chief with the family. He had learned enough English to tell them that he had been there before, and had been assisted by them, and that they need fear nothing. They might remain on their place, and would not be molested. They did so throughout the war, and had no further trouble. This Indian came to see them annually, for years after, always bringing them some little present.”
These and other stories helped us to while away the time until we arrived at Nanaimo, at six o’clock on the morning of July 16th. Here our party left the steamer and embarked on a ferry-boat.
In two hours we landed at Vancouver, British Columbia, and found there a first-class hotel. Ten years ago, we were informed, the place on which the city is built was a wilderness, but when the Canadian Pacific Railroad made it the western terminus of its line, there was at once a “boom,” such as has been seen so often in our own Western States, and now there are banks, public buildings, fine streets, electric cars, and all the appliances to make strangers and residents happy.
