An anecdote which has been preserved, concerning an old Mohegan Indian named Wa-nou, affords a striking example of the strong affection of a father towards his only son.
During the frequent wars which took place between the Indians and the white men, the former had defeated a party of English soldiers, and put them to flight. The retreat being without order, a young English officer, in attempting to escape, was pursued by two of the savages, and finding an escape impracticable, he determined to sell his life as dear as possible. He turned round to face his enemies, and a violent conflict commenced, in which he must have soon fallen; but just as one of his assailants was about to raise the fatal tomahawk over his head, an old Indian threw himself between the combatants, and the red men instantly retired with respect.
The old man took the young officer by the hand, dispelled his fears, and led him through the forest to his wigwam, where he treated him with the greatest kindness. He seemed to take pleasure in the youth’s company; he was his constant companion; he taught him his language, and made the rude arts of his countrymen familiar to him. They lived happily together, though the thoughts of home would occasionally disturb the Englishman’s tranquillity, and for awhile his countenance appeared sorrowful. At these times Wa-nou would survey his young friend attentively, and while he fixed his eyes upon him, the tears would start into them.
On the return of spring, hostilities were recommenced, and every warrior appeared in arms. Wa-nou, whose strength was still sufficient to support the toils of war, set out with the rest, accompanied by his prisoner. The Indians having marched above two hundred miles, at length arrived within sight of the English camp. Wa-nou observed the young man’s countenance whilst he showed him the camp of his countrymen. “There are thy brethren,” said he, “waiting to fight us. Listen to me. I have saved thy life. I have taught thee to make a canoe, a bow and arrows; to hunt the bear and the buffalo; to bring down the deer at full speed, and to outwit even the cunning fox. What wast thou when I first led thee to my wigwam? Thy hands were like those of a child; they served neither to support nor to defend thee; thou wert ignorant, but from me thou hast learnt every thing. Wilt thou be ungrateful, and raise up thine arm against the red men?”
The young Englishman declared with much warmth, that he would rather lose his own life than shed the blood of one of his Indian friends. The old warrior seemed to be overcome by some painful recollection; he covered his face with his hands, bowed down his head, and remained in that posture for some time; then, making as it were a strong effort, he again looked at the young man, and said to him in a tone mixed with tenderness and grief, “Hast thou a father?”
“He was living,” said the young man, “when I left my country.”
“Oh, how fortunate he is still to have a son!” cried the Indian; and then, after a minute’s silence, he added, “Knowest thou that I have been a father, but I am no longer so? I saw my son fall in battle; he fought bravely by my side; my son fell covered with wounds, and he died like a man! but I revenged his death; yes, I revenged it.”
Wa-nou pronounced these words with great vehemence; his whole frame seemed agitated; his eyes lost their usual serenity, and his chest heaved with deep sighs. By degrees he became more calm, and, turning towards the east, where the sun had just risen, he said,—
“Young man, thou seest that glorious light—does it afford thee any pleasure to behold it?”
“Yes,” replied the Englishman, “I never look upon the rising sun without pleasure, or without feeling thankful to our great Father who created it.”