and laid him by the fire; he chafed his limbs and clothed him in furs; he presented venison with his own hands, and the daughters of the tribes offered honey and cakes of maize, and wept for compassion.  And the pale face saw that our land was better than his own, and he envied us, and sent messengers to his people to come and strip us of our heritage.  Then they came as the flights of pigeons in the spring, innumerable:  in multitudes as the shad and salmon, when they ascend the thawed rivers.  They poisoned the air with their breaths, and the Indians died helpless in the pestilence.  They made war upon us, and drove us from our cornfields; they killed our old men, and sent away our young men and maidens into slavery.  O, Manito, thus hath the accursed pale faces requited our kindness.

“Wast thou displeased with the red men O, Manito?  Had the children of the Forest offended thee, that thou didst deliver them into the hand of their enemies?  See, what thine inconsiderate anger hath done.  Thou hast destroyed us, and injured thyself.  Where are the offerings that once covered these rocks, the bears’ meat and the venison, the wampum, the feathers of the eagle, and sweet-smelling tobacco?  Who now honoreth the Manito of the loud voiced Yaupaae?  I listen, but I hear no answer.”

Thus far the voice of Ohquamehud was low and melancholy, as the wail of a broken heart, and his face sad, as of one lamenting for a friend, but now it changed to a loftier expression, and the words were hissed out with a guttural roughness, without being spoken much louder.

“O, Manito!” he continued, “I alone am left to offer thee the sacrifice of the fragrant tobacco.  Behold!  I will fill thy pipe many times if thou wilt assist me.  Onontio hath done me much mischief.  He hath burned the villages of my people, and slain our warriors.  Why shouldst thou favor him?  Is he not a dog which thou wilt kick away from the door of thy lodge?  He cometh, sometimes, and sitteth upon the highest rock, to look down upon thy dwelling-place.  It is to nourish the pride of his heart.  It is to exult that, as far as his eye can see, it beholds no wigwam, nor one bringing thee gifts.  Help Manito!  Think upon thine own wrongs,—­remember the sufferings of the red man, and give me the scalp of Onontio.  Accept my offering.”

Having thus spoken, and conciliated by every means that occurred to his untutored mind, the good-will of the tutelary Spirit of the Falls, recounting the generosity of the Indians, and the ingratitude of the whites, remonstrating with the Manito for his supposed anger, and pointing out its folly, trying to stimulate his indignation on account of the neglect of himself, and, to tempt his love of presents by promises, Ohquamehud threw a quantity of tobacco in the leaf, which the Indians were accustomed to raise themselves around their cabins, into the flames.  But an incident took place, which, for a time, dashed his hopes to the ground, and covered him with mortification and confusion.