, 1877-08-24
An Indian of the Period.
BY GEO. j. VARNEY.

Lo the poor Indian, whose untutored mind
Sees God In clouds and hears him in the wind
-BrydRt.
The difference between the American
savage of the colonial times and in thu
Indian of to. day exists more in appear
ance than in reality, more in cirCum
stances than iu nature. might occupy
columns with anecdotes of the perioC
of the Indian wars, showing the essen
tial humanity Of large portion of even
the seemingly blood-thirsty aborigines
but this is not necessary to the purpose
of this article.
AT Passamaquoddy lakes, and more es.
pecially at Oldtown (the points where
nearly all the small remainder of our abD-
rigines are gathered), they live in dwell
hngs quite equal to those OF our Celtic
sQuatters of the new railroad lines. Few
of our people are conversant with these
places; yet the "gentle savage" is not an
unfamiliar sight in our villages, with his
hands full OF bows and arrows to tempt
away the pennies of the boys, or an ir-
regular line of delicate baskets strung on
his brawny arm, to win the quarters
from children of larger growth. The
squaw, too, is en- route, with ight-coored
baskets TO sell, or dirty bag for what she
can beg.
Their primitive wigwam stands 10 some
sheltered nook of the diminished forest,
or with the better sort, the more civilized
canvas is spread in locality more readily
accessible to the desired visitors.
The owners of the wood or field thus
appropriated usually submit without
much complaint to brief sOjourn, as
they generally stay only long enough to
consume the waste fuel which abOunds
in most of our forests; but the proprietor
of the tracts which furnish the variety of
ash tree used in basket-making does not
always sustain the visitation of the in
dustrious Indian with so much equanim-
ity. The wandering red man still claims
all he wishes by right of inheritance, and
is rarely responsive to demand for the
quid pro quo.
A lady friend of mine,in pursuit of the
picturesque in nature and the unique in
humanity, during recent winter pene-
trsted the woods to lodge of these West
ern Ishmaelites. The family was first
heard of in the neighborhood in quarters
at country school house, then unused,
which they had found insecurely fas.
tened. The time was winter, and the
season was nearly at its coolest. Elected
by the district authorities from this snug
domicile, they soon found a sheltered
spot in thick wood, among the sprhces
and hemlocks, near swamp in which
were growing plenty of young ash.trees.
The cabin consisted of a simple frame of
poles supporting bark and boughs closely
interviewer, and against which the snow
was piled deeply. For fuel, our gentle
savage raided on neighboring grove of
frs, through which the fire had already
swept leaving its traces in the blackened
trunks and flame-colored foliage.
1t was Immediately after very cold
spell that my friend visited them.
"Lady here to-day ask if we cold last
week, said the squaw.
"Did you suffer-"
ave most froze to death Folks
think we only Indians, not like other
folks, and don't feel anything"
In reply to remark on the difficulty
Of going about in the woods in the deep
SHOWS, the Indian man replied, Snow
not deep round here. seen snow seven feet
deep at Moose Head Lake" The squaw
added, probably unwilling that her native
region should be outdone, ~ seen il
deeper than that where l came from
down toward the provinces"-Quoddy
lakes, perhaps.
The sanup continued, II used to hunt
moose at Moose Head Lake, tramped
long time over the deep snow on snow.
sbcos." Upon which the sQuaw re,
marked, ,contemptuously, "All he good for
to tramp"
"Great many wolves about there" add
ed the hunter, by way of finishing VI
the subject with sensation.
They had lived in Oxford county
lived five years in Danville, had sol
killed in the war of the rebellion, foI
whom they drew pension from the gov
ernment. Squaw sat back TO the fire fin
ishing colored basket. Sanup was dowr
on his knees kneading wheaton dough il
q basin. 1t appeared TO be mixed only
with water, and was kneaded very hard