at Niagara, of the steamboat, the “Maid of the Mist,” which advances up to the very fall till it is wetted with its spray, and then only turns back; nor of my botanical rambles around Iris island; nor of the Indians, whom one yet meets roaming about here; nor of the great iron bridge which, strong and light at the same time, has been thrown across the stream a little below the fall; nor of many other remarkable things here;—but all these are petty in comparison with that great water-fall, and that has been to me the essential thing. The Indians who live around Niagara belong to the Seneca tribe. As this is the season when the men are all out on their hunting-grounds, I saw merely some squaws, who offered their work for sale. This consists of embroidery done by hand, of flowers and animals, drawn and finished in a childish manner, but yet well done with dyed fibre of porcupine quills, small mats, baskets, mocassins, and children's rattles, made of a fragrant kind of grass. There are many shops around here full of their work, which is sold at a high price.
Two years ago Marcus and Rebecca S. were present at a great solemnity which took place among an Indian tribe here—the election of a new chief. They assembled in the depths of the forest. The finest incident, however, on this remarkable occasion was, that the young chief knelt down before his old mother, who laid her hands, with a benediction, upon his head. Woman, who is treated in a general way so horribly by the Indians, obtains, nevertheless, respect from them when she is the mother of a distinguished warrior; sometimes also, as among all savage people, from her mystical witch-like attributes, when she is possessed of a powerful character. This, however, can only very seldom be the case, considering the heavy yoke, which, from her very childhood, is laid upon her both spiritually and physically.
I long to see and hear more of these, the New World's
