He was next sent to a cabinet maker to receive surgical treatment—his rather serious wounds filled up and a new hawk-like nose grafted on in a clever manner.
The proud owner writes, “I then turned him over to the Sign-painter, to have his leather leggings, his warlike feathers, and a few other accessories cleaned up and retouched.
“I got into some very interesting discussions with the Sign-painter on High Art, what Art meant, and various kindred topics, while my Indian was being rejuvenated. I wish I could remember some of these conversations with the local Knight of the Brush, but we certainly discussed some of the loftiest principles in his line of paint and color.”
“Tacomus” was then sent to one of the largest and most attractive country seats in Massachusetts, where he has found a fitting home and now stands on a small knoll, his earnest face turned towards forest, hills, and streams; a noble addition to the many charms of a far famed and beautiful estate.
In his left hand Tacomus grasps a long barrelled gun, originally a flint lock, a real gun which had seen service and which he had when discovered.
Many go to gaze at him, admire, and express themselves about this new comer. One child looked way up and exclaimed, “His head is in the skies!” then timidly touched his toes and ran away.
Tacomus bears the name of an old Indian Chief, who with his sons, first sold the land which is now the town of Dudley, to Governor Winthrop’s representatives, in old Colonial Days.
My Nameless, Footless Squaw
The proud possessor of this impressive Brave says, “I felt that I had secured a great prize and an unusually handsome Indian. I also fondly thought I was the first to discover the value of our old tobacco signs for lawn decoration; but found later that a woman had seized the idea first, and about fifteen years before. Visiting her ‘Breezy Meadows,’ I noticed that she had placed two old wooden Indians near a veritable wigwam or tepee on her ‘Adopted Farm!’ So to her I take off my hat and courteously bow.”