He took it and looked at it, and said,—­

“Me not remember”; but when Emma would have put it away, he held it fast; and that night he carried it with him to his chamber.

Some degree of restlessness had been observed in him previously to this conversation.  It increased as the weeks passed on.  He became moody, and liked to wander off alone, far from the settlement.  The neighbors said to each other,—­“He will never be contented.  He will go back to the Indians.”  The family feared it also.  But Uncle George, who was always prone to look on the bright side of things, said,—­

“We shall win him, if we manage right.  We mustn’t try to constrain him.  The greatest mistake we make in our human relations is interfering too much with each other’s freedom.  We are too apt to think our way is the only way.  It’s no such very great matter, after all, that William sometimes uses his fingers instead of a knife and fork, and likes to squat on the floor better than to sit in a chair.  We mustn’t drive him away by taking too much notice of such things.  Let him do just as he likes.  We are all creatures of circumstances.  If you and I were obliged to dance in tight boots, and make calls in white kid gloves, we should feel like fettered fools.”

“And be what we felt like,” replied Mr. Wharton; “and the worst part of it would be, we shouldn’t long have sense enough to feel like fools, but should fall to pitying and despising people who were of any use in the world.  But really, brother George, to have a son educated by Indians is not exactly what one could wish.”

“Undoubtedly not, in many respects; but it has its advantages.  William has already taught me much about the habits of animals and the qualities of plants.  Did you ever see an eye so sure as his to measure distances, or to send an arrow to the mark?  He never studied astronomy, but he knows how to make use of the stars better than we do.  Last week, when we got benighted in the woods, he at once took his natural place as our leader; and how quickly his sagacity brought us out of our trouble!  He will learn enough of our ways, by degrees.  But I declare I would rather have him always remain as he is than to make a city-fop of him.  I once saw an old beau at Saratoga, a forlorn-looking mortal, creeping about in stays and tight boots; and I thought I should rather be the wildest Ojibbeway that ever hunted buffaloes in a ragged blanket.”

The rational policy recommended by Uncle George was carefully pursued.  Everything was done to attract William to their mode of life, but no remark was made when he gave a preference to Indian customs.  Still, he seemed moody, and at times sad.  He carried within him a divided heart.  One day, when he was sitting on a log, looking absent and dejected, his father put his hand gently upon his shoulder, and said,—­

“Are you not happy among us, my son?  Don’t you like us?”