Lewisburg chronicle. [volume] (Lewisburg, Pa.) 1850-1859, 1854-02-17
I had heard Of white wives

behaving worse.
When supper was over the boy came and
law down at NV feet and talked with me
about living in the woods. He said he
pitied the poor white people for being shut
up in houses all their days. For his part
he should. He promised to show me how
to shoot with the bow and arrows, to snare
partridges aad rabbits, and many other
things. He said he was afraid was al
most spoiled by living in the house and
going to school, but he hoped that, if they
took me away and gave me new name,
and dressed me properly, they might make
something of me yet. Then | asked him
what be was called, hoping that he had
some grand Indian name, like Uncas, or
Miautonimo, or Tushmalahah; but he said
it was Peter. He was pleasant fellow,
and while he was talking with me l did
not care about my home, but felt very
brave and squaw-like, and began to think
about the fine belt of wampum, and the
head dress of gay feathers, and the red
leggings, and the yellow moccasins | was
going to buy for myself, with the baskets
I was going to learn to weave. But when
he left me, and went back to the wigwam
and sat down on the hemlock boughs by
myself, somehow I could not keep home
out Of my mind. l thought first of my
mother, how she would miss little brown
face at the supper table, and on the pillow
by the fair face of my blue-eyed sister. l
thought of my young brother Albert, cry
ing himself to sleep, because was lost. l
thought of my father and brothers search
ing through the orchard and barn, and 60
ing with lights to look in the mill-stream.
Again thought of my mother, how, when
she feared was drowned she would cry
bitterly and be very sorry for what she had
said about my dark complexion. Then l
thought of myself, how l must sleep on
the ground, wi'h nothing but hemlock
boushs for covering, and nobody to tuck
me up. What if it should storm before
morning, and the high tree above me
should be struck by lightning! What if
the old Indian should not be tame saw
age after all, but should take a fancy to
set up the war-whoop, and come and scalp
me in the middle of the night!
The bell in the village church rang for
nine. This was about the hour for even
ing devotions at home. looked round to
see if my new friends were preparing for
worship. But the old Indian was already
fast asleep, and as for the younger one, l
feared that man who INDUCED himself
in beating his wife with wooden spoon,
would hardly be likely to lead in family
prayers. Upon the whole, l concluded l
was among rather heathenish set Then
thought again of home and doubted
whether they would have any family wor-
ship tAat night, with one lamb of the flock
gone astray. thought of all their grief
and fears, till I felt that my heart would
burst with sorrow and repentance, for l
dared not cry aloud.
Suddenly l heard familiar sound at
little distance-it was Carlos bark Near
sr and nearer it came; then heard steps
coming fast through the cracking brush
wood then little Carlo sprang out of the
dark into the freight, and leared upon
me, licking my hands with joy. He was
followed by one of my elder brothers, and
ny mother! To her ran dared not
look in her eyes, but hid my face in her
bosom, sobbing out, go mother, forgive
me-" She pressed me to her heart, and
kissed Inc very tenderly, and when she did
so, felt the tears on her dear checks.
Ineed hardly say that 1 never again
undertook to make an Onondaga squaw o,
myself, though my mother always held that
l was dark enough to be one, and sup
pose the world would still bear her out in
her opinion"
While she was still 4 school girl, her
parents removed to the city of Rochester,
where she enjoyed the excellent education
al advantages of that place, and gained
her first experincee of the social life to
which she has remained enthusiastically
attached. Writing several years after,
Grace pays feeling tribute to the tempo
rary residence of her early years.
Rochester" she says, "was for some
years my well-beloved home; here it was
that l spent my few school-days; received
my tride Of book knowledge; for much
learning has never made me mad" or
" blue" 1t was here that woman's life
hrst opened upon me; not as a romance,
not as fairy dream, not as golden heri-
sage Of beauty and Of pleasure; but as a
sphere Of labor, and care and endurance
an existence of many efforts and few sue
eesses' Of eager and great aspirations, and
slow and partial realizationsr. Life has
mus lar been t" me severely earnest, pro.
iound'y real, aud my days of romantic
pleasures and ideal visions are vet to
eome.''
In 1913. she renor.d