OHIO STATEWIDE FILES OH-FOOTSTEPS Mailing List *********************************************************************** USGENWEB NOTICE: These electronic pages may NOT be reproduced in any format for profit or presentation by other organization or persons. Persons or organizations desiring to use this material, must obtain the written consent of the contributor, or the legal representative of the submitter, and contact the listed USGenWeb archivist with proof of this consent. The submitter has given permission to the USGenWeb Archives to store the file permanently for free access. *********************************************************************** OH-FOOTSTEPS-D Digest Volume 99 : Issue 605 Today's Topics: #1 Abbotts History of Ohio - Chapter ["Maggie Stewart" To: OH-FOOTSTEPS-L@rootsweb.com Message-ID: <019901bee3d0$17c45c80$0300a8c0@local.net> Subject: Abbotts History of Ohio - Chapter 5 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Transcribed by Kay L. Mason kkmason@shianet.org Chapter V Indian Manners and Customs The discipline which the Indians exercised over their children was pecu- liar, and, by no means, as severe as might have been expected. Whipping was considered a disgraceful punishment, and was seldom inflicted. The ordinary punishment for misconduct consisted of ducking the offender in cold water. In winter this was an infliction which the children greatly dreaded. Smith witnessed one scene of punishment. The chief Tontileago was married to an Indian woman of the Wyandot tribe. She was a widow with several children. One of these boys in some way offen- ded his father-in-law. He whipped the boy, though not severely, with a strap of buffalo hide. The boy shrieked with all the strength of his stentorian lungs. This called out the mother, and she instantly took the part of her child. The husband very calmly explained the offense, stated the necessity that the child should be punished, and urged the moderation of the punish- ment inflicted. But the indignant mother was not to be appeased. She felt that her boy had been disgraced by corporal punishment. "The child was no slave, " she exclaimed, "to be beaten and scourged with a whip. His father was a warrior and a Wyandot, and the son of such a sire is entitled to honorable usage. If he has offended his step-father, there is cold water enough to be had. Let him be ducked until he is brought to reason, and I will not utter one word of complaint; but a buffalo strap is no weapon with which the son of a warrior should be struck. The spirit of his father is frowning in the skies at the degradation of his child." Tontileago listened imperturbably to these rebukes. He then, without speaking a word, lit his pipe and strolled away, to give his wife's anger time to cool. But the offense in her eyes was of the most serious nature. Her child had been, as she judged, degraded. She caught a horse, and mount- ing it with her children, set out to return to her father's home, which was distant about forty miles. In the afternoon Tontileago returned to the cabin. He found that his family had abandoned him, and that there was no one there but Smith. He seemed very much troubled, uttered several very express- ive pathetic ejaculation, and soon followed his offended wife to win her back again. There are many things occuring in this world which are not explainable upon any known principles of human philosophy. The Indians were very super- stitious, and their conjurors were held in great estimation. They were gen- erally aged men, of very serious and dignified bearing. Upon one occasion, when Tontileago, Smith, and a few other prominent Indians were out on a hunting excursion, they were very hospitably received, for the night, in a small Indian encampment on the southern shore of Lake Erie. In the evening an Indian woman came running into the camp, in a state of great alarm, say- ing that she had seen two warriors, armed with rifles, on the other side of a small creek near be, apparently spying out their position. It was at once supposed that they belonged to the hostile and war-renowned tribe of the Mohawks; that a large party of these fierce warriors were hidden, and that, before morning, the camp would be attacked by a resistless force. Great was the consternation. The women and children were sent into the woods, to be secreted there; the warriors all retired from the light of their fired, and in the dark took their stations, rifle in hand, to await the approach of the foe. The venerable conjuror, Manetohcoa by name, alone remained in the full blaze of the camp fires. Apparently unconcious or regardless of any danger, he was busily employed in the necromantic arts. He had provided himself with the white and polished shoulder-blade of a wild cat. He then bound together some carefully selected tobacco leaves with some gorgeously colored feathers. These he burned, fumigating himself with the smoke, and at the same time heating the shoulder-blade by the fire. He expected to see come out, in distinct delineation, upon the bone, images of the Mohawk warriors, and in such a way that he could in some degree judge their numbers. But to his surprise, real of feigned, as he carefully examined the smooth bone, he saw the figures of two wolves rise upon its surface. He immediately called out to the warriors in ambush that the woman had been deceived, that there was no enemy near, and that she had mistaken the wolves for the Mo- hawks. The Indians, reposing implicit confidence in their conjuror, unhes- itatingly returned to the camp. The next morning several of them crossed the creek for exploration, and actually found the tracks of two wolves just at the spot where the affrighted woman fancied that she had seen the warriors. The military principles of the Indians were very simple, and yet admira- bly adapted to the mode of warfare in which they were accustomed to engage. Their principal features were caution and cunning rather then recklessness and boldness. It is by no means correct to suppose that they were without military discipline. They had carefully studied and clearly defined manoev- ers, in the performance of which they were remarkably alert and intelligent. Very promptly they would form their whole force in line, each one seeking the protection of some tree, stump or log. The Indians admitted that it might be very brave for two regiments of white men to face each other on the open prairie, and shoot until one or the other were virtually annihilated, but they did not deem such recklessness of daring to be wisdom. In forming a line of battle, the warriors were ever careful to protect their flanks. Not infrequently, when assaulted by a superior force, they would form in a large hollow square, such as the instructed skill of Napolean taught him to adopt in contending with the Mamelukes of Egypt. Each movement of the troops, for advance, retreat, concentration or dis- persion, was indicated by a loud signal-whoop from the leader, varying in its intonations. The folly which General Braddock manifested in his fatal march, excited their constant derision. Immediately after the dreadful massacre of Brad- dock's army, on the Monongahela, the Indians assured Smith that the "Long Knives" acted like fools. "They did not know enough," said one chiefs, "either to fight or run away. They huddled themselves together so that we could completely surround them, and shoot them down at our leisure, with- out any danger to ourselves. They gave us the best possible opportunity." General Grant, with the advance guard of General Forbes' army, marched upon Fort Duquesne, in the year 1757. With great celerity and secrecy, he pressed through the trails of the forest, in a night march, and took posi- tion upon a forest-crowned hill, above the fort, before the dawn of the morning. He then, exulting in his achievement, by way of bravado, caused the drums to beat and the bagpipes to play, as if to inform the enemy of his arrival. The wary Indians, thus instructed, stole out from the fort, and creeping along beneath the protection of ravines, bushes and forest, placed themselves in an ambush, guided by the camp-fires of the foe, and every man selected his victim. Just as the day was dawning, when there was light enough to take deliberate aim, they commenced the assault. Grant's army, in a very short time, was nearly annihilated. A venerable warrior, an Caugnewaughna chief, speaking of this, their victory, to Mr. Smith said: "The conduct of General Grant was to me totally inexplicable. The great art of war consists in ambushing and surprising your enemy, and in prevent- ing yourself from being surprised. General Grant acted like a skillful warrior in coming secretly upon us. But his subsequent conduct, in giving us the alarm, instead of falling upon his with the bayonet, was very extra- ordinary. I can only account for it by supposing that Grant, like too many other warriors, was fond of rum, and had become drunk." The Indians had a supreme contempt for any many who was ignorant of what may be called woodcraft. It will be remembered that Smith had be degraded from the rank of a warrior and reduced to that of a boy, for allowing him- self to be lostin the woods. About two years after this event, he went out in midwinter with Tontileago, and several other warriors, on a hunting ex- pedition. It was very severe weather, and the ground was covered with snow one or two feet deep. As they were moving along, late in the afternoon, several miles from their camp, they came across the tracks of a number of racoons. The tracks were quite fresh in the snow, and it was supposed that the animals would soon be treed, where they could easily be shot. Smith was, however, led to a much greater distance than he anticipated, and still found no racoons. Night was coming on, dark, tempestuous and fiercely cold. The wintry gale rose to a perfect hurricane, and the gigantic trees were swayed like willow twigs by the blast. The smothering snow blind- ed his eyes, and entirely obliterated all the tracks he had made. He had on- ly a bow and arrows, with neither gun nor flint with which he could strike a fire. He had a single blanket to wrap around him, and a tomahawk in his belt. Soon night enveloped him in its gloom. To stop would be inevitable death by freezing. So he stumbled along over stumps and stones, bewildered and exhausted, while the snow-flakes fell so thick that he could not see whither he was going. He shouted again and again for help, but his voice was lost in the rush and roar of the storm. His situation seemed utterly desparate, and he began to think that his last hour had come. As he was thus toiling along he providentially came upon a gigantic syca- more tree, a venerable patriarch of the Ohio forest, which had apparently numbered its centeries. The decaying tree was hollow, leaving a large cavity inside with an entrance about eighteen inches wide and three or four feet high. But this entrance faced the storm which was beating against it and into it with all violence. Smith, with his tomahawk, cut a number of sticks, which he placed up- right against the hole, together with a quantity of brush, leaving open just sufficient space for him to creep in. He then entered, taking with him pieces of decayed wood with which he stopped every chink which would admit snow or wind. The cheerless little cabin which he had created for himself, was six or seven feet high and about three feet in diameter. When thus hermetically sealed there was midnight darkness around him. The floor was covered with snow, and the flakes, driven fiercely by the wind, soon drifted up, effectually banking him in, and completely sheltering him from the storm. For two hours he jumped up and down in his cell, to warm himself by causing the more rapid circulation of his blood. Then wrapping himself in his blanket, and leaning against the side of the tree, he fell soundly asleep and did not awake for several hours. When he awoke he was still surrounded with midnight darkness. But as he attempted to force his way out through the barricade he had reared, he found that the snow and ice held him with bars of strength which he could not sunder. He strained every nerve but could make no impression upon the bar- rier. He became terror stricken, fearing that he was buried alive. Again he sat down, meditating upon what he should do, and, from utter exhaustion, again fell asleep. How long he slept he knew not. But, upon awaking, he went to work with his hatchet in the impenetrable darkness. After long labor he succeeded in cutting away one stick and then another, and finally burrowed his way out into the open air. The snow had fallen to the depth of four feet on a lever, and was piled up in and immense bank against the brush and sticks with which he had closed the entrance to his cell. He was no longer a novice in the science of the woods. By examining the moss upon the trees he ascertained the points of the compass, and, after the excessive toil of wading through the snow for several hours, he reached the encampment of his friends. They received him with shouts of joy and congratulation. But singular enough their politeness did not allow them to ask a single question until they had placed venison, hominy and sugar before him, and he had partaken of an ample meal. Then the prinicple chief, whose name was Tecaughnetanego, then addressed Smith affectionately and mildly as if he were a child. "My son, " said he, "we wish now to hear a particular account of the manner in which you passed the night." Smith began his story, and went through it from beginning to end. Not a word was spoken by the Indians in the way of questions, or in expression of wonder, or censure, or approval, until he had finished his narrative. Then he was greeted on all sides with shouts of approbation. Tecaughnetanego rose and said in dignified and stately utterance: "My son, your courage and hardihood and presence of mind are highly to be commended. If you will go on as you have begun you may one day make a great man. We all rejoice in your safetly as much as we had mourned over your supposed death. We were preparing our snow shoes to go in search of you when you appeared. As you had been brought up effeminately among the white men, we never expected to see you alive. I now promote you from the rank of a boy to that of a warrior. As soon as we sell our skins in the Spring, at Detroit, we will purchase you a rifle." This promise they faithfully performed. The Indians, as is well known, were very fond of intoxicating drinks; but their habits in this respect were peculiar. They would have an occasional carouse, when they would indulge to the greatest excess. For this they would make ample preparation, laying aside their arms, and appointing a committee to keep sober and watch over them that they might not inflict any injury upon each other. They would, after such a frantic revel, often for a long time remain sober. The women were as much addicted to this practice as the men. Some of the more noble of the Indians were indeed remarkably temperate. They perceived the ruin which intemperance was producing upon their race, and earnestly entreated the white men not to sell to the Indians the destructive fire-water. At one time Smith accompanied a large party of Ohio Indians to a trading post, where they disposed of their beaver skins and other furs. They first supplied themselves with ammunition and blankets; they then, having some surplus funds, purchased a keg of rum. All then met together in council, and deliberately decided to have a drunken carouse. A few of their strong-bodied warriors were set apart, who were to remain perfectly sober. They were to watch during the revel, and carefully protect the inebriates from serious harm. Smith was courteously invited to join in the carousal, with the dis- tince understanding that he was to drink to the same degree of intoxication with the rest. As this invitation was declined, Smith was told that he must join the sober party, and assist in keeping order. Before the riotous and frenzied revel commenced, the warriors carefully laid aside their tomahawks and knives. The scene which ensued was fearful in its maniacal violence. The Indians were roused to the utmost intensity. Though no lives were lost many were seriously wounded. Near by there was an encampment of Ottawa Indians. They also had a sim- ilar carouse, but with more deplorable results. Not only were many seriously wounded, but several warriors were killed. The Ottawas continued their or- gies until all their money was spent. Then, with aching heads and saddened hearts, they buried their dead, gathered up their wounded, and returned to the wilderness. In their sober hours some cursed the white man for tempting them with the fire-water. The penalty which attends such folly fell, with more or less severity, upon each one engaged in the insane revelry. One poor Indian lost his blanket, which was thrown into the fire and burned, and he had no money with which to replace it. The beautifully-colored and fringed hunting-shirt of another was torn from him back and rendered utterly useless. Others had been bruised and maimed, and nearly all had been im- poverished. Though the Indians were the children of superstition, and many absurd- ities were mingled with their religious rites, still they had very decided conceptions of a supreme being, and of life beyond the grave. One Great Spirit was universally recognized. The different tribes addressed him by different names. He was, however, more generally called the Manito. As the Indians were dependent upon game for all their meat, and as they were not unfrequently unsuccessful in hunting or the chase, their supply of food was often very precarious. Upon one occasion Smith, with the aged chief, Tecaughnetanego, and an Indian lad, but ten years of age, named Nungany, were encamped at a great distance, in the forest, from the village of the rest of the tribe. The sedate and venerable chief had passed his three-score years. Though a skill- ful hunter, he was quite infirm, suffering often excrutiating pain from rheumatism, which, at times, disabled him entirely, rendering it impossible for him to move his limbs. Smith was a young hunter, and unprepared to grapple with great difficulties. The boy was mainly employed in the camp in dressing and cooking the game which the chief brought in. Their camp was a comfortable wigwam of conical form, with the floor covered with fragrant hemlock boughs, and the skins of wolves and bears. The sides lined with various kinds of furs. A cheerful fire blazed in the cen- ter, the smoke ascending through a hole in the roof. The whole aspect of the interior was one of shelter, warmth and comfort, far more attractive to the eye of taste then many a stately parlor of modern times. It was midwinter. The snow was deep and the cold very severe. The old chief, suffering from an attack of rheumatism, was prostrate upon a couch of skins, unable to move. A severe storm had for several days swept the forest, sifting down its encumbering snow. Their food was exhausted. Smith, in the fierce storm, had gone out several days but had returned without any game. The old chief, notwithstanding his helplessness, pain and hunger, never uttered a complaining or murmuring word. He would always greet Smith, on his return, with a smile, and endeavor to cheer him with agreeable conversation. The snow was so deep, with a slight crush, which broke beneath every foot- step, that it was impossible for Smith, with his inexperience, to approach within gunshot of the deer. One evening he returned, after a two-days' hunt, faint, hungry and ex- hausted, having obtained actually nothing. For the same time Tecaughnetango, and the lad, Nungary, snow-bound in their lodge, had fasted. Starvation seemed near. Smith entered the wigwam greatly despondent. Without speaking a word he laid aside his gun and powder-horn, and sat down by the fire, quite in despair. The old chief then inquired, mildly and calmly, respecting his success. Smith replied: "We must all starve. The snow is so deep and the deer so wild that I can- not possibly get within gun-shot of them. And we are too far distant from any Indian settlement to obtain any food from them." The chief, who was himself almost starved, having taken no food for two days, after a few moments' silence, said: "Do you feel hungry?" "No," Smith replied. "The pangs of hunger are over. I feel dizzy, deathly sick, and am so weak that I can scacely drag one foot after the other." The life of the whole party depended upon the strength Smith might re- tain. The chief, aware of this, and apprehensive that he might return with- out game and nearly famished, had made what provision he could for the emer- gency. "My brother," said he very tenderly, "Nungany has hunted up some food for you." He then brought forward a small quantity of soup which had been prepared. It was made from the bones of a fox and a wildcat, which, having been picked clean a few days before, had been thrown away. These the chief had directed to be gathered, pounded and boiled into a sort of soup; and had laid the meagre dish aside for Smith, in case he should return in a starving condi- tion. Smith tasted of the food, and supposing it to be merely his share, and that the chief and the lad had enjoyed the same, devoured it with the vora- city of a wolf. Tecaughnetanego sat in silence, until the last spoonful had been swallowed. He then handed Smith his pipe, and invited him to smoke. After he had finished the pipe, the venerable chief addressed him in the following remarkable speech: "My brother, I saw, when you first came in, that you had been unfortunate in hunting, and were ready to despair. I should have spoken at the time, and have said what I am now about to say; but I have always observed that hungry people are not in a temper to listen to reason. You are now refreshed and can listen patiently to the words of your elder brother. I was once young like you; but I now am old. I have seen sixty snows fall, and have often been in a worse condition, for want of food, than we now are in. Yet I have always been supplied, and that too at the very time when I was ready to des- pair. "Brother, you have been brought up among the whites, and have not had the same opportunities of seeing how wonderfully the Great Spirit provides food for his children in the woods. He sometimes lets them be in great want, to teach them that they are dependent upon him, and to remind them of their own weakness. But He never permits them absolutely to perish. Rest assured that your brother is telling you no lie. Be satisfied that the Great Spirit will do as I have told you. Go now and sleep soundly. Rise early in the morning and go out again to hunt. Be strong and diligent. Do your best and trust to the Great Spirit for the rest." This admirable speech, expressive of so devout and religious a spirit, coming from an untaught Indian, helpless in his infirmities, tortured with pain, and in danger of speedy death from starvation, remind us of the words of the apostle: "Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons; but in every nation, he that feareth him and worketh righteousness is accepted with him." This spirit of the poor Indian may put to the blush many a white man, who, though instructed in all the wonderful revelations of Christianity, is li- ving truly without God in the world. When we consider the circumstances under which this speech was made, and that, from the depth of the snow, there was no prospect of relief, it must be regarded as a remarkable exhibi- tion of trust in God. Smith was very much impressed by the strong religious faith of the good old man; by his patience under suffering, and by his wonderful spirit of self-denial, which he soon found out, and which had induced him to starve himself that Smith might be fed. At daylight the next morning, after his frugal supper, and refreshing sleep, the young hunter was again, though breakfastless, wading through the snow, gun in hand, in search of game. He saw in the distance, many deer; but the noise he made, by the breaking of the crust beneath his feet, alarmed them, and they fled. Noon came, and still he had taken nothing, and there was no prospect whatever of success. Despair began to envelope him in gloomiest folds. He thought Tecaughne- tanego's trust in God must prove all a delusion. The spare meal he had taken the night before, seemed onnly to whet his appetite, and thus increase the pangs of starvation. He became ravenous for food and almost insane. In a state of semidelirium he turned his steps towards Pennsylvania, dreaming that he might find food there. Scarcely knowing what he did, he had wandered along about six miles, when he was almost entranced by the lowing of a herd of buffaloes directly in front of him. He had barely time to conceal him- self, in a thicket, when a large number of those royal beasts of the prairie came along. They passed, in single file, but a few yards from his hiding- place. Selecting a fat heifer her fired. The bullet struck a vital point, and cutting a few slices from the most fleshy and tender part, placed them to broil upon the coals. He could only wait until the savory viands were slightly warmed, and then he gorged himself with the raw beef. The food appeared to him the most de- licious he had ever tasted. The food appeased his hunger his thoughts im- mediately turned to the starving chief and the boy. Well skilled in select- ing the choicest parts for cooking, he cut off a large quantity of the best portions of the heifer, and, loading himself with them, commenced, with renewed strength, a hasty return to the camp. The remainder of the buffalo he secured against its being devoured by the wolves, and marked the spot that he might return for the precious deposit. It was late at night when he again entered the wigwam. Tecaughnetango received him with the same mild and placid greeting which had thus far ever distinguished him. Seeing that he was loaded down with game he thanked him more affectionately for the efforts he had made for their relief. The poor boy, who was the youngest son of the chief, fastened his eyes upon the beef with almost wolfish voracity. But instructed in that Indian etiquett which allows but little expression to one's feelings, he uttered not a word. His father directed him to hang on the kettle to boil some beef for them all. But Smith, seeing the famished condition of the child, said he would boil some beef for the chief and himself, while the boy could more expedi- tiously satiate his hunger by broiling some tender cuts upon the coals. The father nodded assent. The boy, who seemed to be under the most perfect dis- cipline of obedience, sprang upon the meat like a famished wolf, and cutting off a slice with his knife, was unable to wait for it to be cooked, but began to demolish it raw. In the meantime some choice pieces were put into the kettle to boil. Smith, supposing the chief to be at least as impatient as he was himself, after the meat had been boiling a few minutes undertook to take the kettle off the fire. But Tecaughnetanego, though he had fasted three full days, mildly said, "Let it remain until it is sufficiently cooked." He then told the child, who with the utmost voracity was devouring the food, that he must eat no more at present, but that after a little time he might sip some broth. The imperturbability of the aged chief, under these circumstances, was most extraordinary. He manifested not the slightest impatience. Mildly, but by no means boastfully, he reminded Smith of their conversation the night before, and of the remarkable manifestation which they had now ex- perienced of God's interposition in their behalf. At length he judged that the beef had benn sufficiently boiled, and de- sired that some might be brought to him. He then devoured it with eagerness, which showed how intense his wants had become. Early the next morning Smith repaired to the spot where he had killed the buffalo, that he might convey the rest of the meat to the camp. He, of course, took his rifle with him, as he might chance to meet with more game. He had traversed the forest but a few miles, when he came across an immense elm tree, whose bark was much scratched, and looking up he saw, about forty feet from the ground, a large hole. It could not be doubted that a bear had selected the hollow in the tree for his winter quarters. With his tomahawk he cut down a tall sapling, so that it fell against the high branches of the elm, giving him access to the orifice. He then collected some rotten wood and dry moss, and climbing the sapling until it reached the hole, set it on fire and dropped it in. The broken and decayed wood in the interior was like tinder. The fire spread, filling the hollow with suffocating smoke. He soon heard the noise of the aroused bear, coughing and sneezing, as he struggled on his way out. Smith immediately descended to the ground, and as soon as the bear ap- peared, he put a bullet through his head. The grizzly monster fell dead, burying himself in the snow. Smith loaded himself with the two hind-quarters and hastened back to the camp with the precious burden and the joyous news. It required several toilsome journeys to convey the meat both of the bear and the buffalo to the camp. But the frost was an ample preservative of the meat, and they had now food in abundance for many days. April came with mild breezes and genial skies. The rheumatism of the aged chief had very much abated, so that he was able to walk a little and do some light work. But he was quite incapable of taking a journey on foot to his distant village. The three inmates of the cabin built a bark canoe, and pla- cing all their effect in it commenced puddling down the Ollentangy River, one of the branches of the Sandusky. But there was a drouth about that time, and the water in the stream became so shallow that there was great danger of the destruction of their frail bark by the sharp rocks. The chief proposed that they should go ashore and pray to the Great Spirit to send some rain to raise the water. This was readily assented to, and the three landed. The chief, as he reverentially prepared to enter the august presence of the Great Spirit, subjected himself to a process of puri- fication. He heated some stones very hot, bent over them a number of seme- circular hoops, and covered these over with a blanket, constructing some- thing like what the soldiers call a shelter tent. Then, taking a kettle of water in his hand, he crept under the blankets, directing Smith to tuck them down around so as entirely to exclude the external air. He then commenced singing, in plaintive tones, a hymn to the Great Spirit, as he poured the water on the hot stones. He was soon enveloped in an almost scalding mist, and thrown into a profust perspiration. He continued thus for about twenty minutes. He then came out ceremonially purified. The fire at which he heated his stones was still burning. He now very solemnly offered the Great Spirit a burnt sacrifice of his most precious things. Tobacco was considered by the Indians of almost inestimable value. All that he had of this he took, and, as he cast it handful by handful into the fire, offered the following remarkable prayer: "O, Great Spirit! I thank thee that I have regained the use of my legs once more; that I am now able to walk about and kill turkeys without feeling exquisite pain. Grant that my knees and my ankles may be perfectly well, that I may be able not only to walk, but to run and jump over logs as I did last Fall. Grant that on this voyage we may frequently kill bears as they may be crossing the Sandusky and the Scioto. Grant also that we may kill a few turkeys to stew with our bear's meat. "Grant that rain my come to raise the Ollentangy a few feet, so that we may cross in safety down to the Scioto without splitting our canoe upon the rocks. And now, O Great Spirit, thou knowest how fond I am of tobacco; and though I do not know when I shall get any more, yet you see that I have freely given you all that I have for a burnt offering. And, therefore, I expect that thou wilt be merciful to me and hear all my petitions; and I, thy servant, will thank thee and love thee for all thy gifts." This prayer was partly intoned and was accompanied by many ritualistic observances which, to an uninitiated looker on, seemed very strange. Smith regarded this chief with great veneration. He has given unequivocal testi- mony to his integrity, his benevolence, his high moral worth in all res- pects, and to his strong reasoning powers. Smith witnessed his devotions with profound respect until he saw the chief making the great sacrifice of throwing all his precious tobacco into the fire. This seemed to him so foolish that he could not refrain from smiling. The keen eye of the chief observed this irreverence, and he was much offended. Soon after he called his young companion to him and addressed him in the following words: "Brother, I have somewhat to say to you. When you were reading your books in our village, you know what I would not let the boys plague you or laugh at you, although we all thought it a foolish and idle occupation in a warrior. I respected your feelings then. But just now I saw you laughing at me. Brother, I do not believe that you look upon praying as a silly custom, for you sometimes pray yourself. Perhaps you think my mode of praying fool- ish. But if so would it not be more friendly to reason with me, and instruct me, than to sit on that log and laugh at an old man." Smith felt keenly the rebuke, and was grieved that he had wounded the feelings of one whom he so highly revered. He declared to the chief that he respected and loved him; but that when he saw him throw the last of his tobacco into the fire, and recollected how fond he was of it, he could not help smiling a little. But he assured the chief that he should never again have occasion to complain of him on that account. He then endeavored to explain to the chief the outlines of the Christian religion, dwelling particularly upon the atonement made upon the cross by the Son of God for the sins of man. The chief listened with great solemnity to this narrative. He then calmly replied: "It may be so. What you have said does not appear to me so absurd as the doctrine of the Romish priests which I have heard at Detroit. I am now, however, too old to change my religion. I shall, therefore, continue to wor- ship God after the manner of my fathers. If it is not consistent with the honor of the Great Spirit to accept me in that way, I hope that he will receive me on such terms as are acceptable to him. It is my earnest and sincere desire to worship the Great Spirit, and to obey his wishes. And I hope that the Great Spirit will overlook such faults as arise from ignorance and weakness, not from willful neglect." A few days after this the rain came, and the voyagers, in their frail birch canoe, went on their way rejoicing. They found game in abundance. The devout chief, in these blessings, did not forget God the giver. "You see," said he to Smith, "that God has heard my prayers, and, by his direct interposition, has answered them. From this I have a right to infer that my religion is not unacceptable to Him." In the Summer of 1759, Mr. Smith, after four years of captivity, if his adoption can be so called, accompanied Tecaughnetanego and Nungary, in a birch canoe, down the St. Lawrence to Montreal. Here he bade adieu to his kind friends and returned to his native country. -------------------------------- End of OH-FOOTSTEPS-D Digest V99 Issue #605 *******************************************