Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1847-02-11
An Old Indian, and his Daughter.


TOWARDS night, B-n and myself arri-
we'd with Mitchell at his hut where we found
his aged Indian father and young sister watt
ing his return. cold Peter" as he is cal
led, had come, with his daughter, hundred
and fifty miles in bark canoe, to visit him.
The old man, now over eighty years of age,
shook with palsy, and was constantly NUT
tering to himself in a language half-French,
half-lndan, while his daughter, scarce twen-
ty years old, was silent as statue. She
was quite pretty, and her long hair, which
fell over her shoulders, was not straight, like
that of her race, but hung in wavy masses
around her bronzed vlsage. She would speak
to none, not even to answer question: ex-
cept 60 her father and brother. l tried in
vain to make her say no or yes. She would
invariably turn to her father and he would
answer for her. This old man still roams
the forest, and stays where night overtakes
him. 1t was sad to look upon his once pow
erful frame, now bowed and lettering, while
his thick gray hair hung like huge mat a.
round his wrinkled and scanned visage. His
tremulous hand and faded eye could no lon
ger send the unerring rifle ball to its mark,
and he was compelled to rely on rusty fowl
ing-piece. Every thing about him was in
keeping-even his dog was a mixture of the
wolf and dog, and was the quickest creature
| ever saw move. Poor old man, he will
scarcely stand another winter, fear-and
some lonely night in the lonely forest, that
dark -skinned maiden will see him die, far
from human habitations and her feeble arm
will carry his corpse many weary mile, to
rest among his friends. As | have seen her
decked out with water-liles, padding that
old man over the lake, | have sighed over
her fate. She seems wrapped up in her IA
Their, and to have but one thought-one pur-
pose of llfe-the guarding and nursing of
her feeble parent. The night that sees her
sitting alone by the campfire beside her dead
parent, will witness grief as intense and
desoate as ever visited more cultivated bo-
som. God help her in that dark hour. | can
conceive of no sadder sight than that forsa-
ken maiden, in some tempestuous night, sit
ting all alone in the heart of the boundless
forest, holding the dead or dying head Of
I her father, while the moaning winds sing his
dirge, and the Pickering fire sheds a CHASTITY
light on the scene. Sorrow in the midst of
a wilderness seems doubly desolate.
How strong is habit That old man cam
, not be persuaded to sit down in peace be-
, meath quiet roof, ministered to and cher
shed as his wants require, but still cings to
his wandering life, and endures hunger, cold
and fatigue, and wanders houseless and
homeless. He still hunts, though his shot
seldom strikes down deer; and he still
reads the forest, though his trembling limbs
but half fulfil their office, and his aged Shout
ders groan under the burden of h 5 light ca
noe. | saw him looking at a handful of spe-
cimens of birch bark he had collected, and
was balancing which to choose as material
for new boat He still looks forward to
years of hunting and days of toll, when the
t bark of life is already touching those dark
waters that roll away from thisworld and all
that it contains.
After spending night with Mitchell we
babe him good bye, and started for the Adj
I rondac mountains, where it was necessary
, to have another guide He rowed us across
the lake, and accompanied us several miles
y on our way, as if 10th to leave us. | gave
him canister of powder, pocket compass,
+ and small spy-glass, to keep as mementos
q of me, and shook his honest hand with as
h much regret as ever did that of a white
a man. shall long remember him-he is a
r man of deeds and not of words-kind, gen.
r tie, delicate in his feelings, honest and true
Y as steel. | would start on journey of a
q thousand miles in the woods with him alone,
1 without the slightest anxiety, although was
g burdened down with money. | never lay
down beside truster heart than his and
j never slept sounder than | have with one
arm thrown across his brawny chest.-Head-
d tey's " Letters from the Wilderness"