And how, without a pot to boil,
Was taught by Indian wit;
A stone was sought, and mighty toil
A hollow made in it;
And water got its warmth alone,
From heated pebbles in it thrown.
Then other pebbles, burning hot,
Kept up the boiling heat,
And in this strangely-fashioned pot
Was placed the hunter's meat;
Not over nice, but then, I'm sure,
The Indian was no epicure.
Fresh fish, well broiled on embers red,
The Indians often saw;
And shell-fish, from their rocky bed,
Were eaten roast or raw.
Thus the Good Spirit kindly gave
His bounteous store to Indian brave.
SUCCOTASH.
Though many viands Indians prized—
If served to people civilized,
Would cause disdainful smile;
Yet one nice dish of times by-gone,
The succotash, or beans and corn,
When cooked in Indian style,
