rear, in the same manner, by seniority, rose and united in the dance and the song. Now the step was quicker, and the pronunciation more rapid—all singing and all dancing, while Jim, the blind musician, struck harder and faster with his gourd on the undressed deer skin; thus they continued the same dance for more than one hour, without cessation!

The Indian boys who did not join in the dance, amused themselves the meanwhile, discharging heavy loaded muskets through the aperture in the roof, the reverberations of which were almost deafening. Taken altogether, to the eye and the ear of a stranger, it seemed like frantic festivity.

Tall Chief, who was confined to his bed by indisposition, felt it so much his duty to join in the dance with his people, that he actually left his bed, notwithstanding it was mid-winter, came to the council house, and took part in the dance as long as he was able to stand.

About the "noon of night," Hard-hickory invited Mr. D. and myself to accept of a bed at his residence; to this propo sition we readily assented. Here we were hospitably provided for, and entertained in a style which I little anticipated. Even among many of our white inhabitants, at this early day, a curtained bed was a species of luxury not often enjoyedsuch was the bed we occupied.

Shortly after our arrival at the house of this chief, Mr. D. retired; not so with our friendly host and myself-while sitting near a clean brick hearth, before a cheerful fire, Hardhickory unbosomed himself to me unreservedly. Mr. D. was asleep, and the chief and I were the only persons then in the house.

Hard-hickory, among other things, told me it was owing chiefly to him that this feast was now celebrated; that it was in part to appease the anger of the Good Spirit, in consequence

of a dream he lately had, and as an explanation he gave me the following narration:

"He dreamed he was fleeing from an enemy-it was, he supposed, something supernatural, perhaps an evil spirit; that af ter it had pursued him a long time, and for a great distance, and every effort to escape from it seemed impossible, as it was now just at his heels, and he almost exhausted; at this perilous time he saw a large water, to which he made with all his remaining strength, and at the very instant when he expected each bound to be his last, he beheld, to his joy, a canoe, near the shore; this appeared as his last hope; breathless, and faint, he threw himself into it, and that moment, of its own accord, quick as an arrow from the bow, it shot from the shore leaving his pursuer on the beach."

While relating this circumstance to me, which he did with earnestness, trepidation, and alarm, strongly expressed in his countenance, he took from his bosom something neatly and very carefully enclosed in several distinct folds of buck-skin. This he began to unrol, laying each piece by itself, and on opening the last, there was enclosed therein, a canoe in miniature.

On handing it to me to look at, he remarked that no other person save himself and me, had ever seen it, and that, as a memento, he would wear it in his bosom as "long as he lived." It was a piece of light wood, resembling cork, about six inches long, and, as intended, so it was, a perfect model of a

canoe.

*

*

The night now being far advanced, he pointed to the bed, and told me to sleep there; but that he must go to the council house to the dance, for his people would not like it, if he would stay away, and wishing me good night, he withdrew.

The proceedings of the next day, have already been related. [See conclusion of Chapter II.]

CHAPTER XII.

Death of Hard-hickory-Benjamin F. Warner-Peter Pork-CharlieuJacob Nicely.

An annuity of sixteen hundred dollars was due, from the state of New York, for a limited number of years, to certain families of Cayugas, of which Hard-hickory's, was one, and previous to their removal, was regularly paid to them at their old home, upon the Sandusky river. By an arrangement with the government in their treaty at Washington, that annuity was to be forwarded to them, at their new home, on the Neosho, through the hands of the government agents.

In the year 1834, a draft, for the sum due them from the state of New York, was forwarded and received by them; and in order to make a distribution of the money amongst those entitled to receive it, it was necessary to have the draft cashed, for which purpose Hard-hickory, with George Herrin, for interpreter, were delegated to go to Fort Gibson. They went― sold their draft, and received the money.

Hard-hickory then proposed to Herrin, a trip to Washington city to see after the business of the tribe, relative to the sale of their lands in Ohio. Said he, "let us go while we have this money; it will make no difference to our people, as our great father, the president, will pay us back all the money

* For this statement relative to the death of Hard-hickory, I am indebted to Henry C. Brish. He received it personally, from Small-cloud-Spicer, a chief of the Senecas, in the year 1836.

we spend in going there, and returning home, as he did when we went to make our treaty." So off they started for Washington. For more than a month they revelled in all the luxuries and dissipation of that city, until they were tired of them, when they determined to return to their homes. They then requested the commissioner of Indian affairs to reimburse the amount they had expended, and furnish means for their return, which could not be complied with.

On arriving at home, their money was nearly gone. Hickory was then called before his people to give an account of himself. He stated that there was something wrong about the draft, and he had to go to Washington to arrange it-that the presi dent said it should all be made right, and they would get the money soon, all in silver.

Doubting this statement, they sent a messenger to Fort Gibson, to ascertain the truth. He reported, on his return, that Hickory had drawn the money for the draft, and consequently, the chief's statement to the contrary, was false. A solemn council was called, before which he was summoned to appear, and this he did accordingly. To the charge of falsehood he plead guilty, and attempted not to palliate the offense or to justify it, but threw himself upon the mercy of his people, offering at the same time, to surrender all his horses and other property, as an indemnity for the money spent, which would have been sufficient, or nearly so, to have satisfied the amount. For several days the council went on, and some were for saving his life; but a large majority were against him. He had betrayed his trust, and dishonored his high station as a chief. length the verdict came that Hard-hickory was sentenced to die.

At

If Hickory had stood forth before his people, and asserted at once the truth of the matter, he would have preserved his honor; and from my knowledge of the tribe to which he be

longed, says Mr. Brish, I have no doubt, but that he would have saved his life.

In hopes that they would come to terms, and spare him; and believing that no one would attempt to kill him in the presence of his wife, who was much respected by the tribe, he confined himself to his house, heavily armed. For several days and nights, his house was surrounded. At length the notorious Shane, (who was one of the murderers of Seneca John,) volunteered to kill him in his house. Shane, having just returned from the Cherokee country, went that night to the house of Hickory, who was his uncle, and rapped at the door. Hickory recognized his voice, and supposed he would have one friend who would try to save him.

On being assured that no one accompanied him, Hickory directed his wife to unbar the door, and let him in, which she did. Shane wore a blanket, and approached Hickory in the middle of the room, holding out his left hand, whilst his right was under his blanket, holding the handle of a long knife. Hickory held out his right hand to Shane, and as soon as their hands were grasped, Shane drew his knife, and stabbed Hickory through the body, and then dragged him out of doors, where several Indians stabbed and tomahawked him! Thus perished the renowned chief, Hard-hickory, with the seal of falsehood stamped upon his hitherto unblemished name.

In the previous chapter, mention was made of Benjamin F. Warner. Judging from the dress of that individual-says Mr. Brish-which was entirely Indian, and the fact that he was almost constantly with Hard-hickory, and other chiefs, of whom he was a great favorite, my friend, Samuel Crowell, might readily have supposed, that he was part Indian, as well as a sub-chiefsuch, however, was not the case. He neither spoke their language at that time, nor had a drop of Indian blood in him-he was a Yankee.