Robert Merry's museum, Volumes III-IV (1842)

by Various

The night stole on apace, and soon we were surrounded with darkness, which was rendered deeper by the fire we had kindled. The scene was now, even more wild than before: the trees that stood around, had the aspect of giants, lifting their arms to the sky;—and their limbs often assumed the appearance of serpents, or demons, goggling at us from the midnight darkness. Around us was a seeming tent, curtained with blackness, through which not a ray of light could penetrate.

I amused myself for a long time, in looking at these objects, and I remarked that they assumed different aspects at different times—a thing which taught me a useful lesson, and which I will give, gratis, to my young readers. It is this, that fancy, when indulged, has the power to change objects to suit its own wayward humor. Whoever wishes to be guided right, ought, therefore, to beware how he takes fancy for a guide.

When our fire had been burning for about half an hour, Matthew having unbuckled his pack, took out some dried deer’s flesh, upon which we made a hearty supper: we then began to talk about one thing and another, and, finally, I spoke of the Indians, expressing my curiosity to know more about them. Upon this, Mat said he would tell an Indian story, and accordingly, he proceeded nearly as follows:

These six nations, you must know, were not originally confined to this small tract of country, but they were spread far and wide over the land. Nor were they always united, but in former days they waged fierce wars with one another. It was the custom among all the tribes to put captives to death, by burning them, inflicting at the same time the most fearful tortures upon the victims. Sometimes, however, they adopted the captive, if he showed extraordinary fortitude, into the tribe, and gave him all the privileges of the brotherhood.

An instance of this sort occurred with the Senecas. They had been at war with the Chippewas, who lived to the north. Two small bands of these rival tribes met, and every one of the Chippewas was slain, save only a young chief named Hourka. He was taken, and carried to the village of the victorious Senecas. Expecting nothing but torture and death, he awaited his fate, without a question, or a murmur. In a day or two, he saw the preparations making for his sacrifice: a circular heap of dried fagots was erected, and near it a stake was driven in the ground.

To this he was tied, and the fagots were set on fire. The scorching blaze soon flashed near his limbs, but he shrunk not. An Indian then took a sharp piece of stone, and cut a gash in Hourka’s side, and inserted in it a blazing knot of pine. This burned down to the flesh, but still the sufferer showed no signs of distress. The people of the tribe, came around him, and jeered at him, calling him coward, and every other offensive name: but they extorted not from him an impatient word. The boys and the women seemed to be foremost in taunting him; they caught up blazing pieces of the fagots, and thrust them against his naked flesh; but yet, he stood unmoved, and his face was serene, showing, however, a slight look of disdain. There was something in his air which seemed to say, “I despise all your arts—I am an Indian chief, and beyond your power.”

Now it chanced that a daughter of an old chief of the Senecas, was there, and her heart was touched with the courage and manly beauty of the youthful Chippewa; so she determined to save his life if she could: and knowing that a crazy person is thought by the Indians to be inspired, she immediately pretended to be insane. She took a large fragment of the burning fagot in her hand, and circling around Hourka, screamed in the most fearful manner. She ran among the woman and boys, scattering the fire on all sides, and at the same time exclaiming, “Set the captive free,—it is the will of Manitto, the Great Spirit!”

This manoeuvre of the Indian maiden was so sudden, and her manner was so striking, that the Indians around were taken by a momentary impulse, and rushing to the captive, sundered the strings of bark that tied him to the stake, and, having set him at liberty, greeted him as a brother. From this time, Hourka became a member of the tribe into which he was thus adopted, and none treated him otherwise than as a chief, in whose veins the blood of the Senecas was flowing, save only a huge chief, called Abomico.

This Indian was of gigantic size, and proportionate power. He had taken more scalps in fight, than any other young chief, and was, therefore, the proudest of all the Senecas. He was looked upon by the girls of the tribe, very much as a young man is among us, who is worth a hundred thousand dollars. When, therefore, he said to Meena—the daughter of the chief who saved the life of Hourka—that he wanted her for his wife, he was greatly amazed to find that she did not fancy him. He went away wondering that he could be refused, but determining to try again. Now the long, dangling soaplocks, and filthy patches of beard, worn by our modern dandies, who desire to dazzle the eyes of silly girls—were not in vogue among the Senecas: but foppery is a thing known among savages as well as civilized people.

Accordingly, Abomico, when he had determined to push his suit with Meena, covered himself entirely over with a thick coat of bear’s grease; he then painted one side of his face yellow, the other blue; his arms he painted red; on his breast he drew the figure of a snake; on one leg he painted a skunk; on the other a bear. Around his neck he hung a necklace of bears’ claws, and on his arm he bore forty bloody scalps, which he had taken from the heads of enemies slain in battle; at his back was a quiver of arrows, and in his left hand was a bow. In his hair was stuck a bunch of eagles’ feathers; from his right ear swung the skin of a racoon; in his right hand he bore the wing of a crow.