"Neither mound nor tablet marked the burial-place of Pontiac. For a mausoleum, a city has risen above the forest hero, and the race whom he hated with such burning rancor tramples with unceasing footsteps over his forgotten grave. {FN} But he became a model and inspiration for subsequent chiefs."
Michigan, where his eventful life was largely spent, and Illinois, where it ended, have each a beautiful city preserving his name. It is also embalmed in tradition and legend. And nature, kinder than man, had built for him a colossal monument which will endure for ages, and be known throughout all time as "Starved Rock."
{FN} F. M. Crunden, Librarian, Public Library of St. Louis, wrote the author: "It is believed that Pontiac was buried on the site of the present Southern Hotel here; and a tablet marking his burial-place is there now."
[CHAPTER VI.]
LOGAN, OR TAL-GA-YEE-TA, THE CAYUGA (MINGO) CHIEF.
ORATOR AND FRIEND OF THE WHITE MAN. ALSO, A BRIEF SKETCH OF CORNSTALK.
This unfortunate chief is better known to the world by the eloquent and pathetic speech, which he has left as a record of his misfortunes and sorrows, than by his exploits in war. His father, Shikellimus, was a Cayuga chief, whose house was on the borders of Cayuga Lake, in New York. He was a personal friend of the benevolent James Logan, the intimate friend of William Penn and the founder of the Logonian Library, at Philadelphia. The name of the second son was probably derived from this person.
Logan inherited his gifts and noble nature from his father, who was ever a lover of peace, and also known as the white man's friend. His wigwam was famed far and near as the abode of hospitality, friendship, and kindness. It was a wigwam, but there was something of the halo about it which invested a feudal castle in the days of English chivalry and romance.
Shikellimus was a good provider, and those who gathered around his comfortable fire, which was lighted for every stranger by the forest chieftain, felt the independence of the lone traveler in some old baronial hall; and he who presided at the feast to which all were welcome, was not less noble or less dignified than an English lord. Had there been a pen to record his hospitality and table talk, there would probably have been seen in it more wisdom than entered into the discourse of many a prince or potentate. But, alas, for forest eloquence, it was wafted only by the breeze, and its echo died away forever.
So much for the environment of the home of his childhood. Another thing which no doubt influenced his character was the fact that in boyhood he came under the influence of the sweet-spirited Moravian missionaries, with their gentle manners and soothing words. There was about him a similar quiet and softened dignity, a refinement of sentiment and delicacy of feeling, which characterizes none but the lofty, and exhales from none but the pure.