CHAPTER XII.

“Flaming piles, where'er he turned, Cast a grim and dreadful light; Like funereal lamps they burned In the sepulchre of night.”

MONTGOMERY.

Some time had now elapsed since the exposition at the Haunted Cavern, and the disciples of Elkswatawa were still zealously engaged in disseminating his doctrines far and wide. Many converts were made, although a warm opposition had been organized, by some of the chiefs of the neighbouring tribes, who did not hesitate to denounce him as an impostor,—to declare that his prophecies would prove false,—and who exerted all their influence to destroy the ascendency which he was fast attaining.

That Elkswatawa, who pretended to hold intercourse with the Great Spirit, and only do his bidding, should in so short a time acquire a more than ordinary ascendency over uncultivated minds, is not much to be wondered at, when we reflect upon the peculiar situation of the persons upon whom he operated. When we reflect that superstition was with them a part of their education, and that they were suffering under wrongs both real and imaginary, which created much excitement, and rendered them eager for any change, however wild, which promised to better their condition. When, also, we advert to the fact that his doctrines at first were propagated with much gentleness, and required the performance of duties which all were satisfied would conduce to their general good, and which, several years after their first propagation, had wrought so remarkable a change, as to create wonder and astonishment both among the red men and white. By Elkswatawa alone were the habits and manners of the Indians entirely changed, and good order and sobriety made to prevail where but a few years before, disorder, riots, and drunkenness were an every day occurrence. This fact alone, that he, chiefly by his own exertions, had established a new organization of society, and that upon principles of morality in direct opposition to long established customs, is a proof of the vast power he was enabled to wield. And the conception of the plan by the brothers which was to give them so great a mastery over all the wandering tribes;—their commencing with the propagation of doctrines to which no one could object, and the deep policy which enabled them to conceal their designs for so long a time, evince much wisdom and profound sagacity.

Having gained an ascendency by mild measures, it was now necessary that he should move a step farther, in order to develope more fully his plans, and increase the influence he had already obtained. A radical change as we have already observed, had been introduced among the Indians, tending to better their condition; and so gentle had been the means, and so unobjectionable the doctrines taught, that the suspicions of the whites had not as yet been aroused. It is true, that the traders, who were in the habit of selling spirit to the Indians, and thereby amassing large sums of money, had often made complaints, and stated that the intentions of the Prophet were hostile; but his doctrines conflicted directly with their interests, and consequently, their communications were disregarded. Moreover, up to this time, no single act had been committed, calculated to create the least suspicion; so far from it, the Prophet, on account of the favourable changes he had introduced, had won the regard of most of the whites along the frontier, and was looked upon by them in the most favourable light. It would have been well for him and better still for the red men, had he stopped here. But this would not have been in accordance with the plan which he had formed with his brother, and which they had prosecuted with so much untiring zeal and perseverance. So that Elkswatawa now, in order to ascertain the amount of his influence, began in the name of the Great Spirit to require sacrifices on the part of his followers.

The first edict he issued, simply required that the fire in an Indian lodge should never be permitted to go out under penalty of the declared displeasure of the Great Spirit. Secondly, he ordered that no Indian should suffer a dog to live, together with many other things, too tedious to mention. To these which I have specified, ridiculous as it may seem, it is stated that the most implicit obedience was paid by all who ranked themselves as his followers. These sacrifices were, however, of different kinds, and in themselves, but of little moment, and were required merely that he might see whether or not obedience would be paid to his orders.

This having been done, other changes were daily introduced, all tending to increase the influence which he already wielded. Latterly he had begun to dwell more on the necessity of a perfect union among the tribes; indeed, it was now chiefly the burden of his song, and at his request was urged with much zeal by all his agents, although they themselves were ignorant of his ultimate intentions. Having now for some time endeavoured to obtain a mastery over all the tribes, and finding that the chief obstacle to the success of his plans was to be found in the opposition of some neighbouring chiefs, he determined at once to consult his brother as to the propriety of getting rid of them; and with this view sought him immediately upon his return from a wandering expedition.

“Thy moccasins are worn with travel, brother,” said Elkswatawa, “thy path has led thee to far tribes; what say they of the Shawanee Prophet?”

“I bring great joy,” said Tecumseh, “I have poured out words like a rushing river, and the hearts of the red men are bleeding. I have preached to them peace, but they dream of war; and were Tecumseh to say, ‘come on,’ they would follow, though they know not whither.”

“My heart is glad,” said Elkswatawa. “But some of the red men grieve me, they have placed logs in our path. We must remove them.”

“How?—what has happened?”—said Tecumseh.

“The chiefs of the Delawares and Wyandots have said,” replied Elkswatawa, “that the words of the Prophet have no truth in them; that he deceives the red men, and cannot do what he promises.”

“Ha!” said Tecumseh, “I warned you of this. You have placed the Shawanees above the Delawares and Wyandots. It was wrong. But the Prophet has spoken. His words must always seem straight, they must never be changed.”

“No, brother; and he who says the Prophet speaks false, must die, or the work we have begun will never be finished.”

“It would be well:—if they lie in our path, they must be taken away. But how can this be?—they have friends, and are powerful.”

“I have sworn in my heart, they shall die,” said Elkswatawa, “I have the means. Knowest thou the virtue of witchcraft?” His sides shook with a low chuckling laugh, and he continued, “Our enemies are witches, let them die as such, the Great Spirit orders it.”

“Witchcraft among the red men is like a large fire,” said Tecumseh, “when once you kindle it; but how will you start it?”

“There are many red men,” replied Elkswatawa, “who say, Elkswatawa is the true Prophet. Wherever I go, they follow. Whatever I order, they do;—so far, good. When I preach again, I will attribute the misfortune of the red men to witches or evil spirits, and the Great Spirit shall order the red men to remove them from among them. At first, evil spirits shall enter the bodies of those whom nobody cares for; they shall die, and the Prophet will say the Great Spirit is glad. Then they shall enter the bodies of those whom many hate, they shall die, and the Great Spirit shall say he is pleased. Then will I pray and be absent many nights, and the Great Spirit shall say to me that the chiefs, our enemies, are witches. I will tell it to the red men; they are excited, and once having tasted blood, will readily believe. I will attribute to them the loss of our lands, I will show the working of the evil spirit in all their actions. I will call them the friends of the white men and show their names to the treaties. Will not this do, Tecumseh?”—

“Thy wits are sharp,” replied Tecumseh. “But, brother, thou speakest of the stake, as you would order a fire for a morning meal. I would have your heart sorry at what you propose. The red men, not white, are those whose deaths you seek; remember, we have often given them our hands, we have smoked in their wigwams, and we have hunted the deer and buffalo with them far out on the prairies. If our plans require it, let your heart be sad.”

“Ha! brother,” cried the Prophet, “art thou white livered? Dost thou talk of freeing thy country, when like a woman, thou dost sicken at thought of the stake? If thou canst not open the veins of a sleeping child, and lap its blood like a thirsty dog, I pray thee leave me; I will kindle the torch of war, and lead our warriors on, until not a tomahawk is left, which is not rusted red with the blood of the whites.”

“And thou dost call me white livered, Elkswatawa,” said Tecumseh, his frame dilating, and his eyes glowing with indignation, “thou hast said so;—now did not the same current flow in our veins, and were we not travelling the same path to the same place, and to reach it requires that we should travel as friends, my tomahawk should drink thy blood, base slanderer as thou art. What! because when the sky is clear, I cannot dabble in the blood of the aged, nor derive pleasure from the scalping of children, thou shouldst brand me as a coward—thou! Elkswatawa! Thou art my brother, I must stop,—yet recollect this, when the battle rages, if thou, Elkswatawa, wilt follow Tecumseh in the fight, thy name shall be associated in future years with all that is noble and daring in Indian warfare.” And saying this he began to walk hurriedly to and fro.

While Tecumseh was delivering the above, the Prophet stood cowering beneath his fierce glance, and appalled by the storm of passion he had raised; at length he answered:

“Thy anger is strong, Tecumseh; it is a mighty wind, but Elkswatawa is a blasted tree; the wind passes by, and harms him not. Elkswatawa did not wish to touch the heart of his brother. When his brother is angry, he wants it to be with the pale faces and not with him. We have started upon a journey, and we have travelled a long way. We now find our path stopped up. Shall we turn back, or shall we clear it out, and go on? Elkswatawa says go on, clear it out; burn the red men who stop it up, and our path will then be open to our journey's end. Let us do this, brother, and then when they speak of the Prophet, they shall fear and tremble, and when he orders they will obey.”

“Then be it so,” said Tecumseh, “I like it not, but, since our plans require it, let it be done.”

“Tecumseh is dark to his brother, he cannot see through him. He wishes to make the red men one people, and yet his heart is sorry, when a few must be burned for the good of the many. Tecumseh's heart does not pant for the blood of an enemy. Elkswatawa's heart is glad when an enemy dies, be he white or red. He would drink up his blood as the summer earth does the rain. Tecumseh likes not human blood, and the stake is dreadful in his eyes.”

“Thou sayest the shedding of human blood is painful to me; thou knowest me not, Elkswatawa; let it flow when the battle rages, and let its source be the bleeding bodies of the white men. It might then rush along like a mountain torrent gurgling and leaping over its rocky bed, and in it I could bathe, or could stretch myself along its brink, and sleep by its murmuring sound. But enough; let us each to his post, and do his duty, you to practice witchcraft, and I to wander and preach to the red men;”—then turning off, he left the Prophet to his own meditations.

But a short time had elapsed since the above conference, when witchcraft became a subject of general discussion among the red men, and the Prophet having detailed his plans and wishes to some of his immediate converts and followers, was soon after favoured with a revelation of the will of the Great Spirit, which pointed out the evil effects of witches, and attributed to them all the misfortunes of the red men. This revelation was immediately detailed to his assembled followers, who lost no time in seeking for the supposed witches, the authors of all their misfortunes. The first act in the drama, consisted in the execution of several persons of little note. By some of his emissaries a charge of witchcraft was brought against several old women who were known to have an undue quantity of roots in their wigwams, and against whom a suspicion of witchcraft had before been hinted. Witnesses were ready to prove all that was required, the stakes were prepared, and they suffered death protesting before Heaven their innocence, to the last moment. These trials, which were mere mockeries, for the victims were always doomed to death when they were marked out, generally took place in the presence of large crowds of assembled spectators, served to create excitement, and at the same time whet the native ferocity of the savages. These exhibitions were followed by continual preachings, and revelations of the Great Spirit, through the Prophet, in which he was pleased to express his satisfaction at the executions which had already taken place.

The state of ferment and excitement had now arrived at the highest pitch, and the red men having tasted of blood, like blood hounds thirsted for more. Other persons of little note who were obnoxious to the Prophet on account of having derided his doctrines, or to his followers on account of personal differences, soon experienced the same fate. Stakes were prepared in many of the neighbouring tribes, and the awful and deadly denunciations of the Prophet against all who were even supposed to be touched with witchcraft, gave to his followers unlimited power over all whom they chose to accuse. Witnesses to prove whatever the Prophet wished, were at his call, and in the executions which had as yet taken place, it had so happened, that all had been satisfied with the proof which had been adduced. The possession of crooked pins, rusted nails, or roots were always fatal to the possessor, and no difficulty was found in clandestinely placing them about the persons of the accused. This is all literally true, and the few who may be sceptical on the subject, I would refer to a history of scenes somewhat similar, in New-England, where the actors were civilized and enlightened. Here the actors were entirely uneducated, addicted to superstition, and consequently formed of materials more fit to be operated on.

The Prophet and his band were still going on with their work of destruction, many victims, although none of them were chiefs, had already suffered, and still the Great Spirit, through the Prophet, enjoined them to prosecute the work they had begun, until no evil spirit should lurk among the red men, and that then they would have future days of untold happiness. He had now operated upon the band who were with him, until a wish was law, and his emissaries had also acquired much influence among the neighbouring tribes; when at the close of an evening during the scenes we have described, he was observed to retire alone into the forest at a distance from his camp, where apparently in great trouble, he passed the night in prayer, and in howling songs of vengeance; but against whom, no one knew, for they dared not intrude upon the secrecy of his devotions. At the camp, his followers were in the highest possible state of excitement, for they knew that some matter of great interest occupied the Prophet, although what it was, no one could tell, nor could they know until he should be pleased to reveal to them the source of his sufferings. All believed that he was holding communion with the Great Spirit, and waited with anxious solicitude the coming of morn, when they believed that he would reveal to them the nature of the intercourse he had held, together with the wishes of the Great Spirit. The entire night was one of anxiety and care, dark and undefined visions troubled the red men, serving in a great measure to banish sleep, and if for a moment some one, overpowered by fatigue, sank to rest, he was startled by the restless howling of the Prophet, and arose more feverish and excited than when he lay down.

But morning came, the voice of the Prophet was silent, and yet he appeared not. The sun rose, and a lovelier sun never shed his lustre over the wild woods—the birds sung praises to the God of day from the neighbouring tree tops, and the dew was fast disappearing, when the Prophet was seen with hurried steps striding along towards his encampment. A wild shout burst forth, and many of his band ran eagerly forward to meet him, and conducted him to his tent. His features were thin and haggard, and his appearance was that of much suffering; but he refused to take any rest or refreshment, and having called together his followers, the first words that fell from his lips were, “Teteboxti, Billy Patterson, and Leather-lips must die!” A short but deep silence followed, and a cloud passed over the features of the red men, for the two first mentioned were chiefs of the Delawares; the latter a chief of the Wyandots, and all were persons high in favor among their respective tribes. They had always supported unexceptionable characters, and each possessed the influence which always attaches to a long and well-spent life. The Prophet continued: “The evil spirit dwells in them, their knives are sharp, and they would draw them against their brothers. They are the friends of the white men,—they have sold our lands to the pale faces—see their names to the treaties—and they are now trying to take from us the few hunting grounds we have. Should they live, the red men will have no homes to rest in. I prayed last night, as you know, to the Great Spirit, and begged him to say to his Prophet what should be good for his red children, and a voice cried, saying ‘let no witch live.’ And I slept, and had a vision, and in it I saw Teteboxti, Billy Patterson and Leather-lips gathering herbs, both deadly and poisonous, and on their persons they had many crooked pins, and ugly nails, with which they were about to exercise their infernal rights to the great injury of the red men. They are witches, prepare the stakes and let them suffer.”

The Prophet had no sooner finished speaking, than there burst forth a wild and savage yell, with cries of “lead us on, lead us on!” and placing himself at the head of his gang, they all ran away howling in search of the doomed. Like an unkennelled pack, fresh for the chase they coursed away through the woods, bending their way to the Delaware tribe—scouring the country for those they sought, and spreading terror and desolation, wherever they swept along.

Several days passed, and it was evening when the Prophet was seen in the Delaware country, seated on a small grass plat, which had been swept and prepared for some purpose and surrounded by many Indians, some of whom were Delawares. They were all more grave and taciturn than usual; and upon examining more minutely into the preparations which had been made for the assembled crowd, their silence was easily accounted for. Hard by them, and at a distance of about twenty feet from each other might be seen two freshly cut poles which had been trimmed, and inserted deep into the earth. Around them for several feet, the ground had been swept, and over them were thrown several little bunches of twisted mulberry strings. A quantity of light wood and dried sticks had been gathered, and lay near at hand, while also at a short distance, smoked a small fire, which seemed to have been kept alive merely to answer the purposes of a match.

It was now near the close of evening, when, afar off, was heard a confused noise, which seemed to approach and gradually increase, until one could identify it, as an Indian hymn of joy, proceeding from a mixed multitude of persons, hurrying on to the present encampment of the Prophet. In the rear of the approaching band, were collected a number of boys and women, with long switches, who seemed to be urging something forward. It was Teteboxti and Billy Patterson, pinioned, whom they were forcing along to the Prophet's camp. Having arrived, there burst forth a simultaneous shout of savage joy, and then for a time was wild revelry and mirth, and confusion and disorder, and all cast taunts and reproaches upon the accused.

The Prophet afterward having formed a ring, called them to order, and in the centre stood those who were already doomed to death. Then came on the mockery of a trial;—it lasted for a moment;—it was over, and the victims were ordered to the stake. Among some of the red men there now seemed a little wavering of purpose, and but for the excitement under which they were labouring, they must have relented, when they saw dragged to the stake two of their own citizens, worn with years, and covered with honours. Teteboxti had ever supported the most exemplary life; he was even famed for his wisdom and his many virtues, and the breath of suspicion had never as yet been blown against him. In the language of one who described the scenes of that day, “his head had been bleached by more than eighty winters,” and he now stood at the stake, trembling with age, and leaning on his staff for support, while they prepared to fasten the strings around him. Compassion now for a moment appeared to gleam forth, for the Prophet advancing to Teteboxti, told him if he would deliver up his medicine bag, and confess himself a witch, his life should be spared. The strength of the old man's mind had departed, and age had imbued him with the weakness of a child. He consented, and designated a spot where he said his medicine bag was concealed. He was released, and the crowd led him to the place he had mentioned;—yet his little bag, which in the eyes of the Indians, was all powerful, for it was filled, as they supposed, with roots and crooked pins, and such other substances as were necessary for a witch to work his incantations with, was no where to be found. The old man was frightened, and gasped for breath, and named another place. They led him there, and searched, yet nothing could they find. He still named another place, and begged them to lead him thither, but it was apparent that procrastination was his only object, and they dragged him away to the stake, with tears flowing in a stream down his face as they urged him along. He was bound, and the fire kindled,—a light current of air which swept along, fanned the fire into a flame, and at the same time parting the white hair of Teteboxti, caused it to float off in the wind. At this moment, a young warrior, who was near, moved by compassion, sank his tomahawk into his head:—he fell, quivering upon the ground, and as the yet warm reeking weapon was returned to its sheath, a shudder passed over the features of Elkswatawa.

While this was acting, Billy Patterson remained pinioned to a stake, a silent spectator, at the distance of only a few feet. So calm and unmoved was he, that no one would have supposed him interested in the events which were occurring. But now the crowd gathered around him, and the Prophet stepping forth, made the same propositions to him which he had made to Teteboxti. Many begged him to accept them, and give up his medicine bag;—his life had been irreproachable and useful, and they wished it spared. He had served his apprenticeship as a gunsmith among the whites, where also he had imbibed the doctrines of Christianity, and to the Prophet's proposition, he replied:—“I am a Christian, and have no connexion with the devil;—you have intimidated one poor old man, but you cannot frighten me,—proceed, and you shall see how a Christian and a warrior can die.”

His speech irritated the crowd:—they abused him as a witch, and drawing nearer to him, sat fire to the pile. The fire, at first, burnt slowly, but soon after increasing, it rolled upwards, in a sheet of dense red flame. You might now hear his skin crack and parch, and yet he uttered no murmur or complaint; but, opening a small hymn book, began to sing and pray, with a loud voice. The Indians who surrounded him, danced about with savage glee,—made jocose speeches when his muscles twitched, from the action of the fire, and taunted and reviled him. Yet he quailed not, but sung and prayed, as though he were freed from all bodily suffering. The fire still increased, and a judgment from heaven seemed suddenly to have passed over his persecutors, so silent at once became that noisy rabble. Not a sound was now heard, but the cracking of the fire, or the dropping of blood, as trickling from some fresh wound, it fell upon a burning coal, causing a frying or hissing sound. All gazed in wonder, and each one sorrowed for the part he had borne, when he beheld the firmness of the dying man. His chest still heaved, but he triumphed over nature, for no sound indicated the anguish he suffered. A few moments more elapsed and a skeleton lay doubled up at the foot of the stake, the bones of the right hand, clutching with a strong gripe, a small black smoking substance,—it was the hymn book; and the spirit of Billy Patterson had returned to its God.

For some few moments there was silence, and contrition seemed to have entered their hearts. But the Prophet discovering it, called them together and harangued them. He finished speaking, contrition disappeared, and all were joyous; not only joyous, but happy, and inclined to mirth and festivity. Feasting and dancing were at once resorted to, and they indulged in all the unrestrained freedom of wild revelry:—surrounding alternately the body of Teteboxti, and the skeleton of Billy Patterson, they performed various dances, and sung hymns of joy, and ever and anon they laughed until their sides shook, at the different positions in which they placed the body and the skeleton, at one moment twining its arms around the body, at another causing it to sit erect at a short distance, and look as if it was gazing on the body of Teteboxti from sightless sockets.

The night was now wearing away, the middle watch was at hand, and the Prophet prepared to close the scene. His followers were ripe for any act, so he called them together, and harked them on in pursuit of Leather-lips. The camp was soon cleared, their baggage slung, and with the Prophet all were off in pursuit, leaving their present camp unoccupied save by the unburied body of Teteboxti, which remained sitting in an upright position, and the skeleton of Billy Patterson, which was left hanging upon the fork of a tree.

It was early the next morning when the crowd was seen coursing their way through a small field, to a cabin where resided Leather-lips, whose Indian appellation was Shateyaronrah. He was surrounded by his family, and several friends were also casually present, among whom were two white men. Leather-lips was at this time aged sixty-three, and had always supported the most exemplary life. He had often mingled in battle, and had won for himself the reputation of a brave man. But unfortunately for himself his signature was attached to the famous treaty of Greenville, and he had ever manifested a partiality for the Americans as opposed to the English. Notwithstanding this, he was conspicuous among the red men far and wide, and wielded great influence.

When Elkswatawa assumed to himself the character of a Prophet, and announced that he was commissioned by the Most High to preach the word to the red men, to change their condition, increase their possessions, and make them sole masters of the land, Leather-lips denounced him as an impostor, and urged the Indians not to place full credence in his promises. He had been silently watching the character of the Prophet while he was struggling for power, and spared no endeavour to thwart his views. He was acquainted with the executions which had already taken place on account of pretended witchcraft, and when he heard the shouts of the band which was hurrying on, and saw their numbers, he knew but too well, the pack which was unkennelled against him. But hark! they are rushing on, and first among the foremost, comes his brother. They arrive, they seize, and prepare to bind him.

“No,” cries he, “let me be free, I know your purpose, and am ready to obey.”

“Haste then;” cried Elkswatawa, “witch, we thirst for blood.”

“Witch!” repeated Leather-lips, and he looked him in the face, and entered his wigwam. Then returning to the door he addressed the crowd, and begged them to spare his life. His entreaty was answered with scorn, and they cried for blood. All hope was now gone, and he re-entered his wigwam, to prepare for his fate, while his executioners commenced digging his grave at the sill of his door. Having dressed himself in his best war clothes, and partaken of a hasty meal of venison, he came out from his cabin calm and dignified, and knelt upon the brink of his grave. His executioners then stepped forward, one of whom was his own brother, and kneeling before him, prayed to the Great Spirit in his behalf. The Indians were all silent, and the prayers being over, they withdrew to a short distance, and seated themselves on the ground. Leather-lips then bent over his grave, rested his face upon his hands and his hands upon his knees. The executioners stepped forward, performed their duty, and the body of Leather-lips rolled into its grave. The Indians then huddled around it, and Elkswatawa calling the attention of the two whites, pointed to the body. “See,” said he, as the chest still heaved, “see how hard he dies; he is a witch, he is a witch.” All were satisfied, and they shovelled the fresh earth over the dying Leather-lips, and left to his last sleep, one who, an hour before, was cultivating his little field.

APPENDIX.

NOTE A.—_Page 25_.

“Roof of the boat.” This seems an awkward expression, yet there is no other word which will convey the idea. The flat boats of the west are in shape parallelograms; they have but a single story, and closely boarded over, form a flat roof upon which in good weather emigrants lounge or walk about for exercise.

NOTE B.—_Page 56_.

I have often been amused when travelling through the west, at the inquiries which would be made upon finding out that I was a Virginian, by persons who had emigrated years before from the same state. It seemed to them a matter of course that I must know their relations; and I have been asked after Aunt Polly, Jenny, and other members of a family of which I knew no more than if they lived in the moon. This was frequently the case in Arkansas, but lest it should seem to show a degree of ignorance unequalled by any other people, and perhaps afford nuts to crack for foreigners, I must tell an anecdote by way of set off. In the winter of '34, I started in a coach well filled from Manchester for Nottingham; the passengers were all genteel, well dressed men, and one seemed affable and talkative above his companions; he gave me much local information, and discovering that I was an American from some remark I made, the following dialogue ensued.

“You are not an American?” said he.

“Indeed I am.”

“Well, you talk just as we do.”

I told him, I thought nothing was more natural, inasmuch as we were descended from the English.

“Well, now will you tell me one thing I have long wanted to know?” continued the stranger.

“Certainly, if it be proper, and I can;”—said I.

“Well, do the blacks in your country run wild?”

I could not avoid laughing, and after composing myself, explained to him their situation, and the nature of the services performed by them; he expressed himself satisfied on that point, and after a silence of a few minutes, observed, “I have a friend in America, I reckon you have seen him.”

I told him I really did not know, and asked him to what part he had gone; he said he could'nt tell, but added “I can tell you, how you may know him if ever you should see him?”

“How?” said I.

“He limps a little,” said he, “and his right foot cocks up.”

“Very well,” said I, “when I meet with him, I will give him your respects.” “And” added the stranger, “I will tell you another way you may know him, he is mighty fond of swapping horses.” I could now hold in no longer, but laughed outright, and told him that the United States were many times as large as England. He believed I was quizzing him, and turned away in disgust. And these were the directions given by a well dressed Englishman, to enable me to find his friend in America. Happily for the confirmation of the above anecdote, there now lives in this state, a highly respectable and esteemed gentleman who heard the whole of it.

NOTE C.—_Page 191_.

Netnokwa, who, as we have stated, was at one time regarded as chief of the Ottawas, married an Ojibbeway and emigrated with him to the Red River country. He soon after their removal falling in battle, she continued to reside with his relatives.

See Tanner's narrative.

END OF VOL. I.

ELKSWATAWA; OR, THE PROPHET OF THE WEST.

A TALE OF THE FRONTIER.

“A noble race! but they are gone, With their old forests wide and deep, And we have built our homes upon Fields where their generations sleep.”

BRYANT.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

NEW-YORK: PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NO. 82 CLIFF STREET.

1836.

[Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1836, by HARPER & BROTHERS, in the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.]

WILLIAM H. COLYER, _Printer_, No. 104 Beekman-street.

ELKSWATAWA; OR, THE PROPHET OF THE WEST.