about the graves of their dead. You know they place all the trappings of the dead—his bow and arrows, tomahawk and wampum—in the grave, as they think he will need them to hunt and supply his wants with on his journey to the happy hunting-grounds. They place food and tobacco, with other things, in the grave.

Dr. Cogswell took two men one night, with a wagon, and as the distance was only twelve miles, they performed the journey and got back safely before daylight, depositing the body of the Indian in a barn belonging to a Mr. Hopkins, in the north part of the town. It was soon noised about town what they had done, and there lived a man there who threatened to go and inform the tribe of the despoiling of the chief's grave, unless he was paid thirty dollars to keep silence. The doctor, being a bold, courageous man, refused to comply with a request he had no right to make, because it was an attempt to "levy black mail," as it is called.

Sure enough, he kept his word, and told the Onondagas, who were living between Elbridge and Syracuse. They were very much exasperated when they heard what had been done, and threatened vengeance on the town where the dead chief lay.

The tribe was soon called together, and a march was planned to go up to Auburn by the way of Skaneateles Lake,—a beautiful sheet of water lying six miles east of Auburn. They encamped in the pine woods,—a range called the "pine ridge,"—half-way between the two villages, and sent a few of the tribe into Auburn for the purpose of trading off the baskets they had made for powder and shot; but the real purpose they had in view was to find out just where the body was (deposited in the barn of Mr. Josiah Hopkins), intending to set fire to the barn and burn the town, rescuing the dead chief at the same time.

For several days the town was greatly excited, and every fireside at night was surrounded with anxious faces; the children listening with greedy ears to narratives of Indian cruelties perpetrated during the war with the English about Canada, in 1812; and I remember how it was told of a cruel Indian named Philip, that he would seize little babes from their mothers' arms and dash out their brains against the wall! No wonder we dreamed horrid dreams of the dusky faces every night.

At that time the military did not amount to much. There was a company of citizen soldiers there, called the "Auburn Guards," numbering about forty men, with a captain whose name I forget, but who became suddenly seized with the idea of his unfitness to defend the town against the threatened Indian invasion, and did the wisest thing he could, and resigned his commission on a plea of "sudden indisposition." The doctor walked the street as bold as a lion, but acting also with the shrewd cunning of the fox. And now, my young friends, instead of weaving a bloody romance in the style of the "Dime Novels," depicting the terrible massacre, which might have happened, with so great a wrong to provoke the hostility of the poor Indians, I am about to tell you how the town was saved, and how the doctor outwitted them. If you pause here, and guess, I think you will be far from the mark in reaching the shrewdness of the surgeon, who had not been bred among the hills of old Vermont for nothing.

As I said, at Auburn there is a State prison, and when the convicts die, their bodies, unless claimed by relatives or friends within twenty-four hours after death, are at the disposal of the surgeon for dissection.

As good luck would have it, a negro convict died at the time of our story; and the doctor conceived the idea of getting out of his difficulty by transferring the dead body of the negro Jim to the despoiled empty grave of Onondaga! This done, he easily persuaded the Indians to go back and find the body of their chief all right: and so he succeeded in humbugging the weak-minded Indians, while the bones of old Onondaga were duly prepared and hung up to show students how Indians and all men are made of bone and muscle. The doctor thought he had done a good thing; but when I went into the office and saw the horrid skull grinning at me, I was thankful that the spirit of old Onondaga could not say of me, "You did it!"

II.

The most notable of the chiefs belonging to the Six Nations were Hiawatha, Thayendanega (or Brant, his English name), Sagoyewatha, or Red Jacket,—the most intelligent of the chiefs, and who is said to have been the uncle of General Parker, a full-blood Chippewa, and at one time Indian Commissioner at Washington. (Parker served as an aide of General Grant during the war. In early life, he was a pupil at the normal school, in Albany; and was reckoned quite a proficient in music by Prof. Bowen.)

Most of these tribes, inhabiting the country bordering on the Mohawk River, Onondaga Lake, Skaneateles, Owasco, Cayuga, Seneca, Ontario, and Erie, migrated at an early day to Green Bay, and to the Straits of Mackinaw. As remnants of the Onondagas were passing through Auburn, they often slept on the floor of our kitchen, and they never stole anything or did us any harm. One day, they were passing the American Hotel, and, as usual, begged a few sixpences of all they met. A gentleman sitting on the porch said to one of them, "No, you'll spend it for whisky."

"Oh, no," he replied; "give it to my wife,—he's a Methodist woman!"

I met a tribe of Chippewas at Marquette, a short time since, on Lake Superior, whither they had migrated from Green Bay. An-ges-ta, the chief, was a tall, noble-looking fellow. He wanted the church to help his people, who were very poor.

Said he, "We lived in Green Bay a great while, but when I looked into our cabins and saw so many of them empty, and into the graveyard, and counted more graves than we had living, my heart was sad, and I went away farther toward the setting sun!"

He made an eloquent speech to the Prince of Wales on his visit to the West, and it was pronounced a fine piece of natural oratory.

A few remnants of the New York tribes are living not far from Buffalo, on a reservation, where they cultivate farms and have schools and churches.

Such were the Oneidas, Onondagas, Cayugas, Senecas, Mohawks, and Chippewas. Only one band is left in New York State now, that of the Onondagas.

The present generation of grown people have read with delight the beautiful novels of J. Fenimore Cooper, Esq., but they have been disappointed in not finding any living examples of his noble heroes. As a general thing, the Indian of our day is an untidy lord of the soil, over which he roams unfettered by any laws of society, and often—in his wild state—not controlled by its decencies or in possession of its privileges. But I think this is the fault of Christians more interested in foreign pagans, while neglecting these heathen at our own doors.

THE FIDELITY OF AN INDIAN CHIEF.

The following story about an Oneida chief is told by Judge W——:

Early in the settlement of the western part of New York, the judge was living in Whitesboro', four miles west of Utica. All around was an unbroken forest of beech, maple, and other trees, held by wild tribes of Indians, who had been for ever so long owners of the soil. Judge W——, feeling how much he was at their mercy in his lonely place, was anxious to keep on good terms with them, and secure their friendship in return.

Many of the chiefs had heard of his friendly ways, and went to see him, carrying presents, because of the gifts he had sent them; but he was much troubled that an old chief of the tribe, having great influence with his people, had never come to see him, or sent him any presents, or shown any signs of welcome. After awhile the judge made up his mind to go and see the sachem in his wigwam, and thus secure a friendship he might rely on in case of any difficulty. His family was small,—only his daughter, a widow, and her only child, a fine boy, five years old. So, one day he went to pay the