"It Ought To Be Clean; It Has Been Washed Often
Enough.
Owgh!
You see, Moodie," he continued, "I have no hat - never
wear hat - want no shade to my eyes - love the sun - see all around
me - up and down - much better widout hat. Could not put grapes in
hat - blanket-coat too large, crush fruit, juice run out. I had
noting but my shirt, so I takes off shirt, and brings grape safe
over the water on my back. Papouse no care for dirty shirt; their
lee-tel bellies have no eyes."
In spite of this eloquent harangue, I could not bring myself to use
the grapes, ripe and tempting as they looked, or give them to the
children. Mr. W - - and his wife happening to step in at that moment,
fell into such an ecstasy at the sight of the grapes, that, as they
were perfectly unacquainted with the circumstance of the shirt, I
very generously gratified their wishes by presenting them with the
contents of the large dish; and they never ate a bit less sweet for
the novel mode in which they were conveyed to me!
The Indians, under their quiet exterior, possess a deal of humour.
They have significant names for everything, and a nickname for every
one, and some of the latter are laughably appropriate. A fat,
pompous, ostentatious settler in our neighbourhood they called
Muckakee, "the bull frog." Another, rather a fine young man, but
with a very red face, they named Segoskee, "the rising sun." Mr.
Wood, who had a farm above ours, was a remarkably slender young man,
and to him they gave the appellation of Metiz, "thin stick." A
woman, that occasionally worked for me, had a disagreeable squint;
she was known in Indian by the name of Sachabo, "cross eye." A
gentleman with a very large nose was Choojas, "big, or ugly nose."
My little Addie, who was a fair, lovely creature, they viewed with
great approbation, and called Anoonk, "a star;" while the rosy Katie
was Nogesigook, "the northern lights." As to me, I was Nonocosiqui,
a "humming-bird;" a ridiculous name for a tall woman, but it had
reference to the delight I took in painting birds. My friend,
Emilia, was "blue cloud;" my little Donald, "frozen face;" young
C - -, "the red-headed woodpecker," from the colour of his hair; my
brother, Chippewa, and "the bald-headed eagle." He was an especial
favourite among them.
The Indians are often made a prey of and cheated by the unprincipled
settlers, who think it no crime to overreach a red-skin. One
anecdote will fully illustrate this fact. A young squaw, who was
near becoming a mother, stopped at a Smith-town settler's house to
rest herself. The woman of the house, who was Irish, was peeling for
dinner some large white turnips, which her husband had grown in
their garden. The Indian had never seen a turnip before, and the
appearance of the firm, white, juicy root gave her such a keen
craving to taste it that she very earnestly begged for a small piece
to eat. She had purchased at Peterborough a large stone-china bowl,
of a very handsome pattern (or, perhaps, got it at the store in
exchange for BASKET), the worth of which might be half-a-dollar.
If the poor squaw longed for the turnip, the value of which could
scarcely reach a copper, the covetous European had fixed as longing
a glance upon the china bowl, and she was determined to gratify her
avaricious desire and obtain it on the most easy terms. She told the
squaw, with some disdain, that her man did not grow turnips to give
away to "Injuns," but she would sell her one. The squaw offered her
four coppers, all the change she had about her. This the woman
refused with contempt. She then proffered a basket; but that was
not sufficient; nothing would satisfy her but the bowl. The Indian
demurred; but opposition had only increased her craving for the
turnip in a tenfold degree; and, after a short mental struggle,
in which the animal propensity overcame the warnings of prudence,
the squaw gave up the bowl, and received in return one turnip!
The daughter of this woman told me this anecdote of her mother as
a very clever thing. What ideas some people have of moral justice!
I have said before that the Indian never forgets a kindness. We
had a thousand proofs of this, when overtaken by misfortune, and
withering beneath the iron grasp of poverty, we could scarcely
obtain bread for ourselves and our little ones; then it was that
the truth of the eastern proverb was brought home to our hearts,
and the goodness of God fully manifested towards us, "Cast thy
bread upon the waters, and thou shalt find it after many days."
During better times we had treated these poor savages with
kindness and liberality, and when dearer friends looked coldly upon
us they never forsook us. For many a good meal I have been indebted
to them, when I had nothing to give in return, when the pantry was
empty, and "the hearthstone growing cold," as they term the want of
provisions to cook at it. And their delicacy in conferring these
favours was not the least admirable part of their conduct. John
Nogan, who was much attached to us, would bring a fine bunch of
ducks, and drop them at my feet "for the papouse," or leave a large
muskinonge on the sill of the door, or place a quarter of venison
just within it, and slip away without saying a word, thinking that
receiving a present from a poor Indian might hurt our feelings, and
he would spare us the mortification of returning thanks.
Often have I grieved that people with such generous impulses should
be degraded and corrupted by civilised men; that a mysterious
destiny involves and hangs over them, pressing them back into the
wilderness, and slowly and surely sweeping them from the earth.
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