In my course through the western parts of the state of New-York, I generally travelled within forty miles of Lake Ontario. In this part of the country many of the people entertain strange notions respecting supernatural agencies. Solitude, whilst it strengthens the mind, and fortifies the heart of the well informed, renders the ignorant timid and superstitious. The whisper of their forests, and the echo of their hills, alarm their unenlightened imaginations. Those inhabitants of the west, of whom I am now speaking, believe in witchcraft, and often suppose it the source of disease both in man and beast. Whilst on the borders of Ontario, I stopped for a few moments at a log hut where there was a man in a convulsion [52] fit. During the operation of the malady, my attention was attracted by the conversation of two young women upon the subject. One of them observed that if a garment of the man should be taken off and thrown into the fire, the fit would leave him, and never again return. The other assented to the idea; but the prescription was not attended to. Perhaps they were afraid of being bewitched themselves. It is a very common idea too, in the remote parts of New-York, that if a man should shoot an owl with his rifle, it would be rendered so crooked as never to throw ball true again.
I may here say a word of the backwoodsmen. They are hardy, active, industrious, and in the employment of the axe, wonderfully strong and dexterous. But, with respect to manners, some of them are no less rude than the wilds which they inhabit.
The upper part of the state of New-York is, comparatively, a wilderness. There are here many Indian reserves. They are solitary places; they are dark spots on the face of civilization. The tawny inhabitants of these gloomy forests generally establish themselves in the most remote situations, and render the access to them indirect and difficult. Whenever I entered their villages, they seemed, by their manner towards each other, to say: “This civil wretch has found out our retreat.” There is a shyness and wildness in their aspect, no less significant than such a declaration. No cause of wonder is it, that these persecuted beings look with a jealous eye upon the descendants of those Europeans, who drove their ancestors from the pleasant regions of the east. They see no end to the avarice, the claims, or the progress of white men; and view themselves between the horrors of civilization, and the illimitable expanse of the Pacific ocean.
[53] Barbarous as are the Indians of North America, they possess much greatness, and many virtues. Considering their prejudices against us, which prejudices are incident to their education, and by no means groundless, they evince much forbearance, and even friendship towards us.
Near one of the Indian reserves, I met five of these children of nature. As I had not seen one for fifteen years before, I was much interested in their appearance. In approaching them I presented a grave but friendly aspect. Their gravity at first exceeded mine, but they soon became rather sociable. After some little conversation we parted, not, however, until they had taken much notice of my “varm drase.” In the course of a few hours, I passed what is called an Indian opening. It was an exposed situation of many miles in extent; the weather was severe, the snow deep, and the wind continually whirled it about the unsheltered traveller.
Not knowing the extent of this opening, and fearing that night might find me without fuel, or materials for a tent, I exerted myself to reach in season, the adjoining wood. By this means I became fatigued, and very much in want of refreshment. I had no provisions with me, and indeed no means of carrying any. I soon perceived, in the edge of the forest, a small log hut; but poverty resided there, and I could obtain only an ear of corn; this, however, I found palatable and nutritious. Dyonysius[[58]] did not like the fare of the public tables, under the institutions of Lycurgus, because, as the cook said, it was not seasoned with fatigue and hunger. Towards evening, as I was travelling through a dark wood, I discovered what I presumed to be an Indian trail, and, for the sake of adventure, concluded to follow it. It snowed fast, darkness was approaching, and [54] the wilderness presented a dreary aspect. Had not my heart been afraid of me, it would have communicated a secret alarm to my imagination, and then I should have seen around me a thousand ambuscades. But I had so often cried down to its contemptible obtrusiveness, that it feigned, at least, a tranquil mood.
The snow was deep, and the track exceedingly serpentine; so that I seemed, occasionally, to be travelling back to the point at which I commenced the adventure. It, however, finally led me over a gradual descent into a dark plain. The first evidence which I had of there being human habitations here, was a few sticks of recently cut wood piled above the snow. Soon after, I heard the distant bay of dogs. At length I came in open view of a large collection of wigwams. It was now, however, so dark, and it snowed so fast, that I could only see obscurely the objects which presented themselves. But upon going nearer, my attention was arrested by the appearance of many Indians, going in their blankets, from several of the huts to a long and low building, which I afterwards ascertained was their council house. Thinking that I should here have a good opportunity to see many of the Indians together, I knocked at the door, lifted the latch, and entered. I made a slight bow, and took off my cap. They presented me, in return, a serious and unmoved aspect, but offered me a seat. Soon after, I thought that I perceived in them some degree of timidity. They had, within a few days, been performing some religious ceremonies, and were, probably, unusually superstitious. They had been wearing masks, for the purpose of driving the evil spirit from their village; and, perhaps, they began to think that they had not affected their object. I endeavoured, however, to render my society agreeable [55] to them. When I entered the council house, there were about fifty or sixty persons there. The building was about eighty feet long, and about twelve or fourteen wide. Across the beams overhead were several poles, hanging from which were some traces of mouldy corn; and on each side of the building were benches for seats. There was no floor to the house, and at each end of it there was, upon the ground, a large council fire. At a little distance from these, there were two parties engaged in a war-dance. This is a custom which these Indians will not relinquish. Some of them were naked, and many of them covered with ornaments. They wore strings of trinkets around their ankles, the object of which appeared to be to produce music in dancing. They also had much jewelry in their ears and noses. In their war dances, they imitate every part of an engagement: the onset, retreat of the enemy, pursuit, &c. Here the young warrior acquires a martial spirit, and the love of fame; and here too the aged veteran reminds his tribe of what he has done, and of what his spirit tells him he could do again. During the dances, I was much interested in the appearance of a youth, a son of a chief, whose zeal for his nation caused him, in the feigned pursuit of the enemy, to leap over the prescribed circle of the dance, into the fire. An old and decrepit chief too, here evinced no less devotion to his country. His appearance excited admiration and pity. He was emaciated by disease, scarred in battle, and bent with the weight of years. He evinced in his efforts the greatest energy of spirit, whilst such was his decrepitude that he could not lift his eyes from the ground. His trinkets rattled upon his aged limbs, and his wheezing lungs sounded in his hollow trunk. Poor child of nature!—Heaven careth for thee!
[56] The dances commenced with the beat of an old kettle drum, and was ended by a rap with a club upon one of the benches. At the conclusion of each dance one of the chiefs addressed the company, and passed a piece of tobacco as a token, which they understood much better than myself.
In the course of an hour or two after I left this scene of war, I entered one of the huts. Many came here to see me, and seemed desirous to know from whence I came, whither I was going, &c. A few of them could imperfectly speak English. An old chief attracted, by his ugliness, my particular attention. He was about sixty years of age; his skin was coarse and shrivelled, his face was covered with scars, one of his eyes was protuberant, bloodshot and sightless, and his hair was matted by thick red paint, having the appearance of blood. Some of the men were likely, the old women squalid, and the young ones uninteresting. The children, however, were pretty.
It is said that the Indians of North America treat their wives with coldness and neglect; but I am of a different opinion. Certain it is that their affection towards their offspring is lively and tender.