youth, a son of a chief, whose zeal for his nation caused him, in the feigned pursuit of the enemy, to leap over the prescribed circle of the dance, into the fire. An old and decrepit chief too, here evinced no less devotion to his country. His appearance excited admiration and pity. He was emaciated by disease, scarred in battle, and bent with the weight of years. He evinced in his efforts the greatest energy of spirit, whilst such was his decrepitude that he could not lift his eyes from the ground. His trinkets rattled upon his aged limbs, and his wheezing lungs sounded in his hollow trunk. Poor child of nature!—Heaven careth for thee!
{56} The dances commenced with the beat of an old kettle drum, and was ended by a rap with a club upon one of the benches. At the conclusion of each dance one of the chiefs addressed the company, and passed a piece of tobacco as a token, which they understood much better than myself.
In the course of an hour or two after I left this scene of war, I entered one of the huts. Many came here to see me, and seemed desirous to know from whence I came, whither I was going, &c. A few of them could imperfectly speak English. An old chief attracted, by his ugliness, my particular attention. He was about sixty years of age; his skin was coarse and shrivelled, his face was covered with scars, one of his eyes was protuberant, blood-*shot and sightless, and his hair was matted by thick red paint, having the appearance of blood. Some of the men were likely, the old women squallid, and the young ones uninteresting. The children, however, were pretty.
It is said that the Indians of North America treat their wives with coldness and neglect; but I am of a different opinion. Certain it is that their affection towards their offspring is lively and tender.
