A circumstance occurred a few days previous to my arrival, in the Seneca reserve, which may serve to illustrate the determined character of the Indian.  There were three brothers (chiefs) dwelling in this reservation.  “Seneca John,” the eldest brother, was the principal chief of the tribe, and a man much esteemed by the white people.  He died by poison.  The chiefs in council, having satisfactorily ascertained that his second brother “Red-hand,” and a squaw, had poisoned him, decreed that Red-hand should be put to death.  “Black-snake,” the other brother, told the chiefs that if Red-hand must die, he himself would kill him, in order to prevent feuds arising in the tribe.  Accordingly in the evening he repaired to the hut of Red-hand, and after having sat in silence for some time, said, “My best chiefs say, you have killed my father’s son,—­they say my brother must die.”  Red-hand merely replied, “They say so;” and continued to smoke.  After about fifteen minutes further silence, Black-snake said, pointing to the setting sun, “When he appears above those trees”—­moving his arm round to the opposite direction—­“I come to kill you.”  Red-hand nodded his head in the short significant style of the Indian, and said “Good.”  The next morning Black-snake came, followed by two chiefs, and having entered the hut, first put out the squaw, he then returned and stood before his brother, his eyes bent on the ground.  Red-hand said calmly, “Has my brother come that I may die?”—­“It is so,” was the reply.  “Then,” exclaimed Red-hand, grasping his brother’s left hand with his own right, and dashing the shawl from his head, “Strike sure!” In an instant the tomahawk was from the girdle of Black-snake, and buried in the skull of the unfortunate man.  He received several blows before he fell, uttering the exclamation “hugh,” each time.  The Indians placed him on the grass to die, where the backwoodsman who told me the story, saw him after the lapse of two hours, and life was not then extinct,—­with such tenacity does it cling to the body of an Indian.  The scalping knife was at length passed across his throat, and thus ended the scene.

From Sandusky city, in Huron county, I passed into Sandusky county, and from thence through Seneca county.  These three counties are entirely woodlands, with the exception of a few small prairies which lay eastward of my course.  The land is generally fertile.  Some light sandy soil is occasionally to be met with, which produces more quickly than the heavier soil, but not so abundantly.  I saw in my travels through these counties a few persons who were ill of ague-fever, as it is here called.  The prevalence of this disease is not to be attributed to a general unhealthiness of the climate, but can at all times be referred to localities.

I next entered Crawford county, and crossed the Wyandot prairie, about seven miles in length, to Upper Sandusky.  This was the first of those extensive meadows I had seen, and I was much pleased with its appearance—­although this prairie is comparatively but small, yet its beauty cannot be surpassed; and the groves, and clusters of trees, iles de bois, with which it is interspersed, make it much resemble a beautiful domain.