Shakespeare.

It was evident that, so far from anything being to be expected from the interposition of the Governor, he was opposed to the marriage of Arundel as long as the latter should remain outside of the charmed circle of the Church—a full communion with which was necessary, even to the exercise of the rights of a citizen. But the young man was incapable of deception. His ingenuous mind turned, displeased, away from the bait the wily Governor had presented; and, dearly as he loved his mistress, he would have preferred to renounce her rather than play the hypocrite to obtain the prize. He was not much cast down, for, having sought the interview, not from the promptings of his own judgment, but out of deference to the wishes of the knight, he was not greatly disappointed. He remained firm in the resolution, whatever might be the risk, to release Eveline from the constraint exercised over her by her guardian. Silent, with the Indian silent following in his footsteps, he returned to his lodgings to brood over his prospects and to devise schemes.

The next day was the time fixed for receiving the Taranteens; and not without interest, notwithstanding the pre-occupation of his mind, did Arundel look forward to the event. Such deputations or embassies were, indeed, not uncommon, and the young man had already been present at more than one occasion of the kind; but great consequence was attached to the present, and unusual preparations were made to convert the ceremony into a scene that should be imposing to the imagination of the savages, and forcibly impress them with an idea of the power of the English.

The name Taranteen was given to the natives living on the banks of the river Kennebec, in the present state of Maine, and embraced a number of tribes, among whom were those called by the French Abenakis. They were a fierce and proud race, and had spread the terror of their arms to a wide distance from their hunting grounds. There was a perpetual feud betwixt them and the Aberginians, as the Indians on Massachusetts Bay were styled, who, in consequence of wars with their northern neighbors, as well as of the pestilence which had desolated their wigwams, had become reduced from the condition of a powerful people to comparative insignificance. These Taranteens had, at the beginning of the settlement of the colony, occasionally done some mischief, descending these rivers in canoes in small bands, plundering the cabins of exposed settlers, and sometimes murdering the inmates. As the power of the whites increased, and their name became more terrible, these forays had almost ceased, and in most instances the colonists were able, in one way and another, to obtain satisfaction for the wrongs committed. There was no defined state of hostilities existing betwixt them and the Taranteens, nor could it be said they were strictly at peace with each other, and it was felt that great advantages might result from an interchange of activities and a formal establishment of friendly relations. The efforts of Winthrop and of his council had been for some time directed to this object, but hitherto they had been frustrated by the intrigues of the French, who found it for their interest to discourage intercourse between the Taranteens and the colonists, lest the lucrative trade with the former, of which they enjoyed the monopoly, might be diverted from them entirely, or diverted into other channels. In these exertions the French traders were not a little aided by the Jesuit missionaries scattered among them, who naturally favored their countrymen, and besides were afraid of the spiritual influence which the heretical Puritans might exercise over their dusky neophytes. For even at that early period, the zeal of the Romish Church had penetrated the wilds of North as well as of South America, and erected the sacred crucifix where before stood the stake of the victim. Solitudes which, until then, had only trembled to the horrid war-whoop, were now tranquilized by the soft sounds of the lowly muttered mass. The ferocity of the natives began to be softened, and if not christianized and practising only the outward ceremonies of Christianity, they had at least taken the first step towards civilization. In this state of things a circumstance had occurred, which made abortive any further opposition of the missionaries and traders.

A shallop, or small vessel employed by the colonists in fishing, had picked up at sea, at a considerable distance from the land, a canoe containing some half a dozen Indians, who were on the point of perishing from hunger. They were Taranteens, who had probably ventured out too far from the Main, and been caught in a storm, and swept out by currents, until they lost all knowledge of their situation, and had been for some days paddling about in the fogs, which prevail in those latitudes near the coast, in a vain attempt to retrace their course to land. The starving wretches had been taken on board the shallop, and instead of being destroyed as they expected, had been kindly treated, and brought in safety to Boston, where they were presented to Winthrop. The Governor, politic as well as humane, seized the favorable opportunity to cultivate a better understanding than had hitherto existed between his own people and the eastern tribes. He was completely successful in making the impression he desired upon the rescued Taranteens; and when they took their departure, loaded with presents, it was with a lively regret that they had not sooner become acquainted with a people so hospitable and generous. Among their number was an inferior chief, endowed with the gift of eloquence, which often exists in a high degree among the red men. His eulogies of the colonists on his return were so glowing, and his representations were so well confirmed by his companions, that the exertions of the Frenchmen were no longer able to stifle their curiosity to know more of their neighbors, especially as the report of their returned tribes-men effectually contradicted the monstrous fictions which had been invented to deter them. Such was the origin of an embassy which was a source of fear to the French, and of hope to the English.

It is not surprising that Winthrop, thinking highly of the importance of the occasion, should avail himself of all the means at hand to produce a striking and imposing spectacle, and that he should be seconded, to the best of their ability, by the colonists. As Arundel walked along he could observe indications of the approaching ceremonies. The roll of a drum, mingled with the shriek of a fife, and the blast of a trumpet was heard; an occasional passenger either on foot or horseback, with a musket on his shoulder, and whose face was not to be seen daily in the streets of the town, loitered on his way; the guard at the door of the Governor's house was doubled, more for show than for any other purpose, and a greater number of the assistants than usual was to be seen. Several of these gentlemen lived in the town, but some resided on their plantations in the neighborhood, and came to Boston only for purposes of business, or diversion, or pleasure. Several men were also engaged in drawing a couple of culverins to the place of audience, which was to be in the open air. Waqua, as he walked demurely after Arundel, doubtless noticed all that was passing, but he made no remark, nor through his appearance of indifference was the interest which he really felt perceptible.

When they reached the inn, they found an unusual number of persons there collected. Here were to be found not only the captains and inferior officers of the vessels, who, while in harbor, were accustomed to make this a place of resort, but divers colonists from the country round, who, upon the requisition of the Governor, had assembled, provided with military equipments. The heart of the landlord, goodman Nettles, rejoiced, and his contradictory face beamed with pleasure, as, surveying the increasing crowd, he calculated what quantity of ale and wine and victuals they would put down their throats, and how many pounds, shillings, and pence, into his own pocket. On such occasions the large circle of his benevolence comprehended all mankind—Indians as well as whites. As the two entered the public room of the inn, they heard rising above the confused din of voices, that of Captain Sparhawk, who seemed objecting to the preparations.

"If they were good Christians," he said, "the sail would fit better to the yard. If they were even your frog-eating mounseers, with their popery and d——d wooden shoes, ('I hope,' he added, 'a man may curse the Pope,') I wouldn't care about touching off a culverin or two by way of good fellowship; but as for these whopping red skins, it will all be no better than so much powder thrown away."

"Canst not let the Indians alone, Captain?" cried mine host. "Ahem! for my part I believe there's many a proper man among them, though 'tis a grievous pity," he added, sighing, "that they be'nt Christians."

"Avast, and belay there with a double turn, goodman host," exclaimed the Captain. "Of what use do ye think would it be to make the red skins Christians? Keep your weather eye open, and tell us if ye don't see breakers ahead. Hark ye! do ye think it would be so very pleasant to have the sharks swim into heaven and go jumping and yelling round like so many red devils as they are?"

"But, Captain, if divine grace once entered their hearts, they would give up all such ways, you know," sighed the host.

"Tell that to a landsman," answered the Captain, "and not to a man who was with Jacob Le Maire the first time when them harricanes that dances the devil's hornpipe the whole year round Cape Horn ever had a chance to split an English jib. (Old Jacob—the Dutch, do ye see, the ignorant beggars, capsize it into Yacob),—old Jacob, or Yacob, as the Mynheers spoil it, was a stout fellow, if he was a Dutchman. He was like a grampus when he set his teeth, and a southwester couldn't blow harder if he chose. But where away was I when I begun chase after old Jacob Le Maire? Aye, aye, here away with Indians on the weather bow, bearing up into heaven. What does the Scriptures say, goodman Nettles, about an Ethiopian changing his spots?"

But mine host was at the moment too busily engaged with new guests to attend to questions of theology.

"You're out o' your reckoning there, Captain," said Bill Pantry. "It is a leopard—a sort o' wild beast, as one may say, that finds it unhandy to get rid of his spots. They are pricked in by natur', I take it, in a manner, with Indy ink, so that it isn't scrubbing will take 'em out."

"And why should not an Ethiopian have a right to spots as well as a leopard, or yourself, Bill, with a big anchor settling in the mud, on your right arm, and the Union Jack flying on 'tother. Answer me that, man, before you interrupt your superior officer again."

"Why, do ye see, Captain," Bill began.

But the impatient sailor waited for no answer to his question, for looking round, his eyes happened to fall on Arundel, with the Indian near him, and immediately rising, he approached them.

"How are ye, once more, my hearty?" he inquired, extending his hand to Arundel, while he looked at the Indian. "Is this one of the plenipo-po-pothecaries? That's not it, but it's as much like as children generally are to their fathers."

"Plenipotentiaries you mean," answered the young man, with a smile. "No, this is not a Taranteen; he is one of our own Massachusetts Bay countrymen."

"I thought," said the Captain, "he looked too young for such a line of business, though he looms up as grand as a king's ship. But these Indians, if they be heathens, have some wit as well as other folk, and they know that older chaps are fitter for the like of this here navigation. Howsoever, there's something that pleases me in the cut of your dark colored friend's jib. Would it be asking too much for the honor of an introduction?"

"Captain Sparhawk," said Arundel, "this is my noble friend Waqua, to whom I am under the greatest obligations."

The Captain offered his hand to the savage, who, acquainted with this custom of the whites, extended his own. As for what the seaman had been saying, Waqua had but an imperfect conception of it.

"Do ye see, Master Arundel," said the Captain, "I think there is some difference between the red skins and the blackamoors. To be sure they are all heathens, and for that reason not much better than so many big monkeys; and there's a comfort in that, do ye see, because that gives us a right to catch and make them do our disagreeable work. Anyhow, I've read in Scripture that Ham, who was the old ringleader of the niggars, was made black on purpose. Now, according to my notion, these red skins are a sort o' cross betwixt Ham's and Japhet's children, who were cousins, you know, for do ye see, though they're darkish, they have got long hair like us white men. But come, let us sit down and splice the main brace to better acquaintance."

Arundel accepted the invitation to a seat, for he knew not how better to pass the time than in watching the humors around him, but declined participating in any potations. The Indian too, much to the surprise of the Captain and of Arundel, refused to drink, and to the pressing entreaties of the former only answered,

"Waqua is not thirsty."

"I believe," said the Captain, peevishly, "that the bad manners of these crop ears will spoil the very heathens themselves at last. Whoever heard of an Indian before who refused drink when he could get it?"

"Noble Captain," said Arundel, "be not offended at our friend, who is not accustomed to wine, and therefore is probably afraid of the effect upon himself; nor with me, who never could bear more than half a dozen glasses, and have already sufficiently indulged."

"Well, if there is anything I pray for more than for another," exclaimed the disappointed Captain, "it is that I may never become a milksop (saving your presence, Master Arundel)."

"There is not much danger of that," said the young man, laughing. "But what is the difficulty across the room?"

A group of some dozen persons had been engaged for a considerable time in animated conversation, the tones of which had gradually been growing louder, until at last they could be heard above all other noises. As the sounds increased, the general hum of conversation died by degrees away, until the whole interest was centered in the group above mentioned.

"I will stand by stout Capt. Endicott," said a strongly built man in citizen's dress, and holding a musket in his hand, "resting assured that he does nothing without a reason, and that his conduct doth spring from a godly zeal."

"And I will maintain, in any proper mode," replied an officer-looking personage, "that it was a deed insulting to his majesty, and disgraceful to a British subject. If not treason, it is something very like."

"Bethink you, Colonel McMahon," said the first speaker, "that this is not England. I trow we left her to but little purpose, if we are to enjoy no more liberty here than there."

"What kind of a liberty call you that, Capt. Larkham," demanded the other, "which authorizes Endicott, or any other man, to cut out the cross from the King's colors? Call you yourselves loyal subjects who tolerate such an outrage?"

"And by what authority," retorted Larkham, "was the Papistical sign foisted into the standard of England, except by that of the scarlet woman, whose robes are red with the blood of the saints?"

"Methinks," said the Colonel, "that the flag which waved at Cressy and Poitiers deserved a better fate."

"I pray thee to take to heart and perpend," answered Larkham, with some solemnity, "that I will yield in loyalty to no man, and that the last drop of blood I have is at the service of my country. In this matter a distinction is to be taken. It was not as a contemner of the flag of England, and of the glorious memories connected therewith (he would deserve my dagger in his heart if it were so,) that Capt. Endicott cut out the cross, but as one who is zealous against error—What! is it reasonable to ask us to march to battle with the sign of Rome flaunting over our heads? Shall we do anything which may induce the poor savages (whom, as I am told, the emissaries of Rome are deluding, taking good care to keep out of our reach) to recognize her errors, and admit her power?"

"Such scruples," said the Colonel, "neither you nor I ever heard at home. It required a foreign soil to give birth to them," and as he uttered the word foreign, he threw an emphasis on it which offended the other.

"I shall entreat of your courtesy," said Larkham, slowly, "to weigh well the words which it may be your pleasure to apply to any opinions of mine, I will resent any imputations upon the loyalty of the colony, or upon mine own."

"Think not to affect me by any threats, sir," answered the Colonel, standing up, and looking sternly at his opponent. "I say that it was the act of a rebel, and will avouch my words against you, though the whole colony were at your back."

The last sentence was spoken in a defiant tone, and some mischief might have been the consequence, had not Master Prout, who for some time had been listening to the conversation, placed himself with his long staff in hand, between the two, and commanded the peace.

"I pray ye, gentlemen," he said, addressing them in a manner very different (as becoming their quality) from the style he had adopted toward Capt. Sparhawk, "to consider the great scandal ye occasion by this unseemly altercation. Who is there doubts the godly zeal of Col. McMahon, or the loyalty of Capt. Larkham, or the valor of either? There is no cause of enmity betwixt ye, but contrariwise of peace and good will. How sweet it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! It is like the precious oil that ran down Aaron's beard, yea, even to the skirts of his garment. I pray ye to be reconciled one to the other."

Master Prout was exceedingly fond of hearing himself talk, and a shrewd man withal, he had purposely applied to each gentleman the quality in which he was deficient, and spun out his speech with great deliberation, in order to give time for the passion of the opponents to subside. At its conclusion he was startled to hear a voice just behind him exclaim,

"Well done, Master Prout. A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver."

All turned to the voice, and there stood Endicott himself, who, in the height of the interest excited by the controversy, had entered unobserved, and overheard a part of the dispute. There he stood, with his left hand caressing the tuft of hair on his chin, looking grimly round him.

"Capt. Larkham," he said, as soon as the commotion occasioned by his sudden appearance abated, "I do appreciate thy well meaning love, but hold it an unprofitable thing to engage in debates which can lead to no useful results. What I have done, I have done, and that not in the inconsiderate heat of youthful blood, but with the thoughtful deliberation that becometh manhood. If there be any who impeach the deed, they do it ignorantly, as not understanding the meaning on bearing thereof."

"I impeach it," cried the impetuous Colonel, "and shame it is that so unsoldierly and disloyal an act should pass unpunished."

Here Master Prout advanced, first looking at Endicott for approval, as if about to arrest the audacious speaker.

"Nay, good Master Prout, by thy leave I desire no offices of thine," said Endicott, putting him aside. "I might, with justice, take offence at thy language, which is harsh," he continued, addressing the Colonel; "but I will not, seeing that it springs out of an honorable but misguided apprehension of the matter. Is it possible that a gentleman of Col. McMahon's intelligence, and whose spirit hath been enlightened to see the truth, even to casting in his lot with ours, should condemn an act which me-seems ought to command his sanction? Had it been told me by another, I would have disbelieved what but now mine own ears have heard."

"I repeat," said the Colonel, "it appears to me no better than treason."

"If thou dost esteem me a traitor, step forward and arrest me in the King's name. But no; surely thou dost speak hastily. For the sake of the respect I feel for thee, I will explain the motives of my conduct. Not from any disrespect to King Charles; not because I honor not the flag of my country; but because I owe a higher allegiance, even to the King of kings, cut I out the sign of Papistical idolatry; not as designing to be deficient in any earthly duty, but as intending to make known to the world my protest, and, as far as may be, the protest of this godly colony against a corrupt church, which is no church; and against all, though not calling themselves of her communion, who drink of the cup of her abominations, desired I to remove from before our eyes that which, whenever beheld, only reminded us of a damning delusion and daily oppression. If this were sin, then have I sinned; but I will abide the consequences without flinching, whether in this world or in the world to come."

A deep, stern murmur ran round the room, and it was evident, from the countenances of the company and from the expressions that could now and then be caught, that by far the greater part of them entertained the sentiments of the audacious sectary. Such, it is highly probable, were the sentiments of a majority of the government of the colony, notwithstanding their disavowal, afterwards, of all sympathy, with the act, and public censure of the bold Puritan. Not that a democratical feeling lurked therein, as some may fancy, but for the very reasons manfully proclaimed by Endicott—reasons, not of a political, but entirely of a religious character.

Endicott, a sagacious and daring politician, as well as zealous religionist, heard the sounds and beheld the faces of those around him with satisfaction. It pleased him publicly to vindicate his conduct, and to test the feelings of his countrymen.

"Thou hearest," he resumed, "those sounds and seest these faces, and dost thou believe that all these men are also disloyal? Review thy judgment, I pray thee, and believe that attachment to the Crown may not be inconsistent with hatred of Papistical baubles."

"Capt. Endicott will find it difficult, in my judgment, to satisfy the Privy Council of the propriety of the outrage, as easily as he has satisfied himself and these people," replied Col. McMahon.

"Be assured," replied Endicott, "that whether here or in England—before the Court of Assistants or the Privy Council, I will avouch the deed, even though it should build the steps to a scaffold."

So saying, and looking deliberately around, and with an inclination of the body, which hardly amounted to a bow, he placed upon his head the slouched hat he had taken off on his entrance, and left the apartment. Upon his departure, the company became broken up again into various groups, and began once more to busy themselves with the mugs and cans; and Arundel, tired of the confusion, left, with Waqua, for his own chamber.

CHAPTER XII.

Sprague.

When Arundel awoke the next morning, he found that the Indian, who had coiled himself upon the floor and there passed the night, was nowhere to be seen. It was, indeed, no wonder, since the rays of the sun had, for more than an hour, been striving to penetrate the oiled paper, which served instead of window glass; and no sooner did the young man realize the lateness of the hour than he sprang from his couch, thinking all the while what Waqua would say to his dilatoriness. After making a hasty toilette, he descended the stairs, and, crossing the public room to the door, looked out upon the street. There was quite a number of persons passing backward and forward, many of whom were dressed in the accoutrements of soldiers, and at these he stood gazing awhile and looking round, if perchance he might discover anything of the Indian. But, as he did not appear, the young man turned back to await his coming.

Hour after hour passed away, but Waqua returned not; and Arundel began to fear that his companion had taken some offence, either at himself, or at what had occurred the evening previous. He ransacked his memory, for the purpose of discovering if he had said or done anything to which exception could be taken, or had omitted any courtesy or attention; but he could find nothing to reproach himself with. He was unable to believe that Waqua would steal away without formally taking leave, on account of any slight or impertinence from another, after the command of himself he had exhibited following the violence of Spikeman; and, finally, tried to avoid thinking of the subject, expecting that the truant would turn up at some time during the day, and explain his absence.

Meanwhile, it was understood that the expected deputation of the Taranteens had arrived, and been received at the house of the Governor. Armed men had been constantly coming into town; their wives and children, in some instances, accompanying them; until the settlement had become a scene of gay and animated confusion. The place fixed upon for the reception of the ambassadors (there being no building sufficiently large to contain the number present, and who were anxious to witness the ceremony) was an elevation near the village, commanding a view of the buildings, of the green rolling bay, and of the ships tossing on its waves. Here, under the shade of a patriarchal elm, spreading like an umbrella its immense and gracefully drooping branches over a wide extent of green turf, Winthrop was to give public audience to the dusky delegates.

The hour for the reception had nearly arrived, when Arundel strolled to the place appointed. He found it covered with a crowd of five or six hundred persons, including the women and children. The number of armed men might have been two-thirds of the whole. The women were gossipping together, and the children amusing themselves in sports becoming their age, while the soldiers were ranged in double files, extending from a large chair or kind of throne placed near the body of the tree, thus forming a lane, only by passing through which could access be had to it. The spot where the chair was placed was covered to some little distance around with scarlet cloth—the chair itself as representative of majesty, with cloth of gold—and on either side stood grimly a culverin or small cannon, capable of carrying a ball of seventeen or eighteen pounds in weight—silent, but eloquent orators, to convince of the ability of him who might occupy the seat to enforce his words. Other chairs, to the number of perhaps twenty, were ranged in a semi-circle on either side of the seat intended for Winthrop; while against the body of the tree were leaned partisans and halberds; and it was hung about on nails driven in for the occasion, with shining corslets, and swords, and daggers.

Arundel had barely time to run his eyes over the preparations, when a salvo of cannon announced that the Governor was starting from his house, and presently appeared the procession, preceded by martial music. First came the musicians, whose number it must be confessed was not very large; next followed twenty stout men bearing halberds or staves of about five feet in length, finished off at the end with a steel head in the shape of an axe; immediately after these marched the Governor, attended by his Council of Assistants, all wearing swords at their sides, and several "ministers;" after whom followed the Taranteen embassy, consisting of about a dozen noble looking Indians of various ages, from thirty to seventy; and the whole was closed by two or three hundred men, completely armed with both the offensive and defensive arms of the period. The steeple-crowned hats, the slashed sleeves, the red stockings, russet boots, and rosettes on the shoes, made a combination which, if it would be quaint and grotesque in our eyes, was striking to those who witnessed it.

As the procession came nearer, Arundel could see among those in the immediate neighborhood of Winthrop, the Knight of the Golden Melice, conspicuous for the richness of his habiliments, adopted either to heighten the general effect of the ceremonial, or to increase his authority with the Indians, over some tribes of whom it was known that he possessed considerable influence. The Knight, indeed, well understood how much manner and external adornment affect not only the savage but the civilized man. A perfect master of the former, he was uniformly courteous. No frown ever deformed his face, nor even wrinkle ruffled its placid surface, on which was stamped the expression of a sweet and confiding nature; and, when circumstances required, he knew how to resort to the latter with an effect which seldom failed of achieving its purpose.

When the procession reached the files extending from the throne, the soldiery composing them presented arms, and the musicians stepping on one side, the Governor, preceded by his halbadiers, and accompanied by the Knight, his Council, and the Indians, walked between, and seated himself on the chair of State, while those who were with him occupied the other seats, and the halbadiers posted themselves around.

As Winthrop took his place, the ranks in front were further opened, and the two culverins belched out with fire and smoke a loud and sudden welcome. So near were the Indians to the guns, and so unexpected to them was the discharge, that some of the younger sprung to their feet, as if to repel an attack, dropping again into their places with abashed looks, as their eyes met the reproving glances of their elders.

Arundel, at this moment, felt a hand upon his shoulder, and turning round, beheld Waqua. He was instantly struck with the changed appearance of the Indian. Instead of the few dashes of paint of the day before, exactly one-half of those portions of his face and person, which were visible, beginning at the top of the forehead, and descending down the middle of the nose, was painted with bright vermillion, the other half remaining of its natural color; his hair was gathered carefully up into a knot on the top of his head, and bore a single eagle's feather, and in addition to the light tomahawk which he had worn before, a heavier one was hanging at his girdle.

"Welcome, my brother, exclaimed Arundel, I did not know but that I had lost thee. Where hast thou been, and what means the change in thy appearance?"

"The great white chief invited Waqua to listen to his talk with the Taranteens, (may the wolf crunch their bones,) and Waqua is here. He has painted himself according to the custom of his tribe. This (touching the paint) is for my enemies, and this (in like manner touching the unpainted portion) is for my friends."

Arundel remembering the strong expressions of dislike towards the Taranteens which fell from the Indian the day before, and connecting them with his present preparation, felt some apprehension for what might happen from his boldly uttered aversion, and determined to keep close by him, in order to restrain him from imprudences, and to protect him, if need should arise, from danger. He took care, therefore, during the rest of the day, to carry Waqua with him wherever he moved, or to follow the Indian, when the latter's curiosity tempted him into different parts of the assemblage.

It was seldom, if ever, that the Puritans undertook anything of importance, either of a private or public character, without invoking the blessing and guidance of a superior power. There was good policy as well as piety in the practice; for by admitting the ministers into their councils, and giving them conspicuous parts to perform therein, the magistrates secured their good will and powerful influence with the people; and, indeed, it may well be imagined, that this spiritual aid in a theocratical commonwealth was a part of the system. On the present occasion, the whole assembly rose at a signal from Winthrop, and Mr. Eliot, afterwards known as the Indian Apostle, asked for a blessing. The prayer was like the man himself, earnest and simple, and listened to with a fixed attention, that indicated the religious reverence of the hardy men who were gathered around. The Taranteens themselves, following the example of the others, stood up and fastened their dyes intently on the speaker, as if, though not understanding a word he uttered, they expected to gather some meaning from the motion of his lips.

When the prayer was ended, Gov. Winthrop rose, and requesting Mr. Eliot (who was sufficiently familiar with the Algonquin language to make himself understood in it) to interpret, he commenced an oration to the ambassadors, each sentence, as it was spoken, being translated by Mr. Eliot.

Confining himself to such ideas as he thought would be most appreciable by the rude intellects of the forest children, he began by expressing his pleasure at the visit, and at the pacific spirit which was manifested by his red brethren. He spoke of the happiness of himself and of his people in being able to succor the storm-tossed Taranteens, and of their readiness to extend kindness to the whole nation. He pointed out the reciprocal advantages which would result from the establishment of trade between them, each parting with what he valued less for what he desired more. He dwelt upon the vast power of his own nation, living beyond the sea, toward the rising sun, and riding in safety at pleasure over the mighty waves, in great canoes with wings, some of which were in sight. He adverted to the pestilence which had swept the land just previous to the coming of the whites, hinting that it was the breath of the great Spirit which destroyed the inhabitants, to make room for his more favored people. He concluded by saying, that they were all children of the same parent, who was most pleased at seeing them living together in harmony.

It was impossible to judge, from the countenances or manner of the Indians, how they were affected by the speech,—only the gutteral "ugh," responding from time to time to the translation of Mr. Eliot. This was designed as a sign of attention, or of approval, or the contrary, but it was difficult to the English to determine in any case which. In fact, like skilful diplomatists, the ambassadors preserved their dignity, and concealed their feelings.

When the Governor had resumed his seat, one of the oldest Indians, after a considerable pause, rose, and stepping forward a few feet, so as to separate himself from all around, turned his face to Winthrop, and began a speech in return. It was pronounced with great deliberation, and rendered into English by the interpreter, as the orator proceeded.

"The Taranteens," he said, "are a great nation, who having heard that a people of the same color, but speaking a different language from their friends the French, had taken possession of the country of the Aberginians, had sent him and his companions, that with their own eyes they might see, and with their own ears might hear, if what had been told them was the truth. Besides, they desired to return thanks for the kindness shown to their countrymen, which they would not forget. Let this belt," said the orator, taking a piece of wampompeag from the hands of one of his companions, and laying it on the ground, "preserve my words. It is very pleasant," he continued, "to plant the tree of peace. May the sapling which we shall plant to-day become a bigger tree than the great elm under which we are assembled, and may we, for many seasons, dance together in its shade. The Taranteens are a great people; they have many warriors, and big canoes, and are so strong, that when they talk of peace, it is not so much for themselves as for the sake of others; and as my white brother hath said, hath not the Great Spirit made all men, and doth he not love to see them playing like children in the grass?

"Now let my white brothers open wide their ears, for I am going to say a thing which much concerns them and us. We have heard that our white brothers are very fond of land, and that if we make friends with them they will try to steal away our land. We care not if they take all the land of the Aberginians, but they must not think to have any part of our hunting grounds. We want them all for the game to run in. These two black belts preserve my words.

"But the Taranteens are a great people, and know how to defend themselves, and if Owanux attempt to dispossess them, there will be talk of taking scalps. These three red belts preserve my words.

"My brothers, Owanux will recollect that if the Great Spirit was offended with the Aberginians, and breathed a hot breath upon them and so they died, he smiles upon the Taranteens and increases their number, and makes sharp the points of their arrows, and directs their tomahawks, and subdues all the tribes around unto them. These two belts preserve my words.

"As for trade, the Taranteens enjoy already a good trade with their friends and allies the French; but if they have anything which their brothers Owanux want, they will not refuse to exchange with them. This one belt preserve my words."

Having thus spoken, and been greeted from time to time with an ejaculation from his companions, the old warrior resumed his seat, amid a shower of "ughs."

He was replied to, at the request of Winthrop, by Eliot himself, who gladly seized the opportunity to disabuse the Indians of any prejudices that might have tainted their minds, and to open them for the reception of that Christianity which he had so much at heart.

"It was on account of the wickedness of the Aberginians," he said, "that they were swept off from the face of the land, and it was not merely for the purpose of trade that Owanux or the English had been sent by the Great Spirit to take their places. If the English became wicked, they, also, would be destroyed in like manner, and so would all who should imitate them. But the English were sent to the Indians with a message which was not painted on bark or handed down with pieces of wam-pom-peag, but put into a book whence it spoke always the same words, and they were those which the Great Spirit himself had spoken with his own voice. The message was to make them better and happier; and, he hoped, that they would allow him, at another time, to tell it to them. He heard with great pleasure, and so did the Governor, how much they loved peace. The English loved peace too, and would water the young tree they should plant that day, and fence it round, so that no bear or other wild animal should trample upon it while it was small. The Great Spirit said in the wise book which He had given to the English, that He loved peace; and contained many things, besides, which it would be useful and pleasant for the Indians to know. The book was called Good Tidings; and he hoped that it would rejoice the hearts of his Indian friends."

When Eliot had ended, another Indian arose, and said: "That their friends, the long robes, among the French, had also books, and he had seen them; but he had never seen a book which could speak the Indian language. He thought if the Great Spirit had a message in a book for them, it would be in the Indian language, and that the Great Spirit would teach the Indians how to read it. He hoped his white brothers would not be offended if he said, that he should doubt whether the Great Spirit had a message for them in a book, until he saw the book itself and heard it talk Indian. That was all he had to say."

It was then that Eliot formed the resolution, by God's grace, to translate the Bible into the language of the Indians, a work to which he devoted so many years of his life, and which, in connection with his unwearied labor of love among the natives, conferred upon him the honorable and well-merited title of "The Apostle of the Indians."

Various speeches were made after this, on both sides, of which it is necessary for our purpose to record only one. This was made by one of the youngest and finest looking of the Taranteens. His roving eyes, in wandering over the assemblage, had detected the figure of Waqua; and, as they fell on him, they lighted up with an ominous gleam. He directed the attention of the Indian next to him, a young man like himself, to the discovery, who seemed in like manner disturbed. The two fastened their eyes full on Waqua, but their gaze was returned by him with a look as bold and stern as theirs. At the first opportunity, the one who had first observed Waqua rose and spoke.

"Pieskaret," he said, "is a young man, but this is not the first time his nation has thought him worthy to speak in her councils, and the winds have blown his name through the forests of Canada, and many days travel along the margin of the great salt lake. When the deer and the Aberginians hear it, they fly, though they are afar off."

While uttering these words, he had kept his eyes fastened on the face of Waqua, as if to watch their effect; and he paused. But the features of Waqua remained undisturbed, and he steadily returned the fiery glances of the speaker.

"Pieskaret asks," resumed the Taranteen, "what have the Aberginians to do with our treaties? Who invited one of them, or did he slink without being whistled for between the legs of men into our midst?"

Again the speaker paused, but yet the calm Waqua moved not from his place, nor did he betray emotion.

"The Aberginians," begun the Taranteen again, with a gesture of contempt, "are cowards and dumb dogs: if spoken to, they dare not reply, even with a whine: the Taranteens have put petticoats on them, and there is nothing baser than themselves except their allies, the Pequots."

The hitherto undisturbed mien of Waqua changed at these last words, as by magic. With a clear, steady voice, while his stature seemed to increase, he suddenly cried out:

"Pieskaret, if that be the name of the scolding squaw, is a liar. He knows that when the Taranteens hear the steps of a Pequot they run like wood-chucks to their holes. Sassacus says that they are old women."

Of course, the whole of these speeches was unintelligible, except to the interpreter, to whom no opportunity was given to translate them, and to the Indians. Great surprise, therefore, was felt as the Taranteens all sprung to their feet at the name of Sassacus, and attempted to push through the dense circle that surrounded them. So solid, however, was the mass, that this was a work of some difficulty; even although the politeness of the angry warriors had restrained them less than it did from jostling others out of the way; and, by the time when the foremost Indian had reached the spot where Waqua or Sassacus had stood, the Pequot had vanished. They returned, disappointed, to their places, snorting the name of the redoubtable warrior who had ventured from his distant river to intrude upon a council of his enemies, and shaking their heads with resentment. When Mr. Eliot had explained to the Governor and Assistants the cause of the excitement, Winthrop endeavored to appease their indignation by expressions of regret, and protestations that he was ignorant that the famous head-sachem of the Pequots was among them; but his words were not attended with much effect, and it seemed that the council was about to be broken up, when Sir Christopher asked permission to speak to the Indians. It was granted; and to the surprise of all the Knight began, with great fluency, to address them in their own language. The tones of his voice were as sweet as those of a bubbling spring, and they seemed to fall with a soothing effect upon the irritated spirits of the sons of the forest. What he said Eliot himself could not understand, for the Knight spoke in the peculiar dialect of the Taranteens, which varies considerably from the Algonquin tongue before used. For, besides the general language which received from the French the name of Algonquin, and was nearly universally spoken all along the border of the Atlantic and far into the interior, the various tribes had dialects of their own, intelligible indeed to a native familiar with the parent speech, but strange to one who, like Eliot, had only an imperfect knowledge of it. As the Knight proceeded, those whom he addressed became more and more quiet; and when he ended, they signified their satisfaction at what he had said by the usual, and now unmistakable "ugh."

By this time, the last red rays of the setting sun were lighting up the calm, green surface of Boston harbor, and the council shortly broke up, to resume its sitting on the morrow. The procession was formed again, and in the order in which they came, Winthrop, attended by the Taranteens, was escorted to his house. As Arundel was departing, he felt his arm grasped by some one, and turning round, he beheld the Knight.

"Where is Waqua?" he inquired, in a low tone. "He was standing near thee when he spoke."

"I know no better than thyself," answered the young man, "and would gladly be informed. He vanished suddenly, and without warning."

"I know thee to be his friend, and how thou becamest so. Thou hast now an opportunity to requite him in kind."

"Show me the way."

"Hie thee, then, to his wigwam, for there likeliest mayest thou find him, and warn him against peril from these Taranteens, and, it may be, from the Governor himself."

"Be pleased to explain more clearly, Sir Christopher."

"Waqua is Sassacus, the great head-sachem of the Pequots, between whom and the Eastern Indians is perpetual hostility. He has given them deadly cause of offence, and I fear that they mean to revenge themselves, or that he may commit another imprudent act. It were better that Sassacus should remove himself away for the present. But I may not stay longer talking with thee. Adieu."

Arundel, satisfied of the friendship of the Knight to the Indian, determined at once to follow his counsel. As, however, Sassacus had undoubtedly sought the forest, he considered it most prudent to retrace his steps to his lodging, to procure his gun before venturing into its recesses, where, the prospect was, that he would have to pass the night. This occasioned some delay, and it was not until the twilight of the summer evening had faded, and stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky, that he found himself on the verge of the woods.

CHAPTER XIII.