 Chapter 9 of the Life and Times of Kateri Tekakwita, the Lillie of the Mohawks, by Ellen Wallworth. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Kanawaga on the Mohawk, Fathers Prémon and Pierron. After Tekakwita had lodged Fathers Prémon, Bruya and Pierron for three days at Gondawagua, on the banks of Oris Creek, they went to the castle of Tyanontogen, which it must be remembered had been hastily rebuilt some little distance west of its former site near the nose, though still on the south side of the river. There when the pagan festival and debauchery was over, a grand public reception of these ambassadors took place. The people of all the Mohawk villages were assembled for the occasion, Tekakwita probably among them. In due time, after most ceremonious welcome, Fremont rose to address them. To render his speech to the nation more impressive, he set up in their midst a great pole, forty or fifty feet in height, from the top of which a wampum belt was suspended. He then declared on the part of Anoncio, that in like manner would hang the first Iroquois who should come to kill a Frenchman or any one of their allies. At this all the Mohawks, men, women and children, bowed their heads in silent awe, not venturing to look at such an extraordinary gift, nor to speak, until the most accomplished of their orators, having recovered his senses, rose and went through all imaginable mimicries to show his astonishment, as if ignorant of its meaning he gesticulated and declaimed in the liveliest manner, though a man of more than sixty years of age. Then discovering its true significance, he seized his throat with both hands in a frightful way grasping it tightly to represent and at the same time impress upon the multitude about him the horror of this kind of death. After he had spoken, and at length, with a surprising eloquence exhibiting flashes of wit by no means common, he finished, as the leading ambassador priest tells us, by delivering up the captives we demanded and giving us the choice of the place where we would build our chapel, in the erection of which they proposed to go to work with all dispatch. They, moreover, delivered up to us a Frenchman whom they had held captive for some time, and promised us the liberty of twelve Algonquins, partly of the nation of the Nez-Persées, partly of that of the Ottowax, Ottawa's. Thus at Tyonontogen the labours of Frémain began. He was left quite alone among the Mohawks for nearly a year at the mission of Saint Mary's, as it was henceforth called. He struggled earnestly during that time to maintain peace and establish Christianity. His companion, Brouyaas, whose Mohawk dictionary is exceedingly valuable to students of the Indian language, soon went west to the Oneidas, among whom little by little he learned the Oneida dialect. Pyrrhon, on the other hand, after a short stay with Frémain, bent his steps eastward to Schenectady, he visited the English and Dutch at Albany to renew the friendly intercourse of former days. And then this messenger of peace, in the early part of the year 1668, travelled back over the great Mohawk war-trail, leading northward. He returned to Quebec to report to Governor de Crocelle the progress of the Embassy. Frémain, left entirely to his own devices in the Mohawk Valley, gathered together the captive Christian Hurons, and then went steadily on preaching, teaching, and baptising. Once when the young warriors were torturing an Ottawa captive and preparing to burn him, contrary to the Articles of Peace, the father by frantic efforts succeeded in saving him. But it was only by dint of rushing through the streets of the village with cries, threats, and entreaties. They could not withstand his zeal. He scattered the assembled crowd. He called down the vengeance of Rawenio and Anoncio upon their castle of Tyanauntogen. If they persisted in thus breaking the peace, the older men, roused at last by his words and actions, put a stop to the outrage. The unhappy victim was rescued from a fiery death, but he fell into a lingering fever brought on by the fright and the sufferings he had endured. In course of time he died, but it was not till he had been fully instructed and baptized by the courageous father who thus had the gratification of saving both body and soul. On the 7th of October 1668, Pyrrhon returned from his journey to Quebec, and again passed through the lower Mohawk villages on his way to the bark chapel of St. Mary's, which had been erected at Tyanauntogen during his absence. If Tecaquitha saw her former guest at that time, it was only as one among a group of Mohawk villagers who watched the missionary as he passed through the streets of the Turtle Castle. He was hurrying on to meet and to replace Father Frémont. This spirited and eloquent founder of the mission now went westward, beyond Brouillasse, at Oneida, in order to make a missionary opening among the Seneca's, who also desired a black gown. This left Father Pyrrhon alone in his turn in charge of the Mohawk mission. His graphic letters to his superiors in Canada during the next few years give many a vivid picture of what was transpiring at that time in the valley. He was something of an artist. Before he succeeded in mastering the language he spent much of his time in painting. He found that his pictures stimulated the curiosity of the Mohawks. In their efforts to get at the meaning of them and to explain them to one another, they learned, without realizing it, the very things he wanted to teach them, while he, by listening to their explanations, quickly acquired their language. As the black gowns' pictures were much talked about in the Mohawk villages at this time and must have influenced the minds of Tecoquitha and her relatives, it will be worthwhile to give Pyrrhon's description of one of his own productions. Among these representations I have made, he says, there is one contrasting a good with a miserable death. What led me to make this was that I saw the old men and the old women would stop their ears with their fingers the moment I began to speak to them of God, and would say to me, I do not hear. I have, therefore, represented on one side of my picture a Christian who dies a saintly death, with the hands joined, as of one holding the cross, and his rosary, then his soul is carried by an angel to heaven, and the blessed spirits appear, awaiting it. On the other side I have put, lower down, a woman broken with age who is dying, and unwilling to listen to a missionary father who points her to paradise. She holds both ears closed with her fingers, but a demon from hell seizes her arms and hands and himself puts his fingers in the ears of the dying woman. Her soul is carried by three demons, and an angel who comes out of a cloud, sword in hand, hurls them into the bottomless pit. This representation, he continues, has furnished me an occasion to speak of the immortality of our souls, and of the good and the bad of the other life, and when they once catch the import of my picture, no one presumes to say any more, I do not hear. The relation of the same ear tells us that Fr. Piron accompanied this saintly skill with severe labours, making regularly each month a visitation of the seven large villages, for a space of seven and a half leagues in extent, in order that no infant or adult sick person should die without receiving baptism. Father Boniface now arrived at Quebec from France, and was immediately selected to go to the Mohawk Valley to second Piron's zeal. We learn further from the relation that a bitter strife was then in progress. The war between the Iroquois and the nine nations of the Loops, humbles them by the loss of their people, but by preventing their permanent stay in one place, it also multiplies obstacles to the conversion of the warriors, who divide up into numerous bands to go singly against the enemy. The Agniers, Mohawks, and the Loops, Mohigans, have brought the war even close to new orange, and when taken captive they burn and eat one another. The Mohigans and their allies had certain advantages over the Mohawks. They were more numerous, then too they were a roving people, difficult to attack, whereas the Mohawks lived in villages and had permanent homes. These last, in order to defend themselves, took care thoroughly to fortify the castles they were then building on the north side of the Mohawk River. As they seem to have had seven villages at this time, which is an unusual number, it is probable that they either had not entirely abandoned their old sites, or else had recently added several villages of captives. It was while affairs were still in this unsettled condition that Techiquitha went to live on the north bank of the Mohawk River near the Cayadotte Creek at Conawaga or Fonda, a few miles west of her earlier home, the French writers continued for some time after this to call the new castle of the Turtles on the north bank by its old name of Gandawaga. To prevent confusion, however, we will henceforth call it Conawaga, meaning at the Rapids. That name still clings to a part of the present town of Fonda. The Rapids of the Mohawk still ripple there as of old under the sharp cut hill, where, as proved by relics and historic references, the once famous castle stood. The Indians who went forth later from this Conawaga in the Mohawk Valley to Canada carried with them the familiar word. Settling down beside the great Rapids of the St. Lawrence River, the sound of rushing water boomed louder than before in their ears, and the name Conawaga grew into history there as well as here. But there it is still a living name and is passed from mouth to mouth as the well-known home of half the Kaniyanga race. For Conawaga and Canada holds today that part of the Mohawk nation, which in the wranglings of the white men, that is to say the old French and Indian wars, sided with the French. Brantford also in Canada contains the other half of the same nation, the descendants of Sir William Johnson's Mohawk followers, who were staunch friends of the English. To us Americans, falling heir to their lands, these Mohawks have left no living trace of themselves, though some of their brothers, the Anandagas and Seneca's, still dwell in our midst. The Mohawks have gone from us, indeed, leaving us only a memory, all in rot in a thick array of Indian names. Let us try at least to understand and to preserve these names in honour of the brave race that once peopled our hills and valleys, our forests and streams. In the Mohawk Valley, side by side with the name of Fonda, which comes to us from the days of the early white cellars, there lingers the still older name of Conawaga, which is dusky with the shadows of two hundred years and even more. The mere name in partial use there at the present day has served to throw some light on the hill and the spring near the Kaya Dutta, enough at least to have called to our minds a vision of Mohawk girls with their water jugs, and to point in a misty way to the almost forgotten home of the lily of the Mohawks. It is owing, however, to long, careful, critical research, and not to surmise, that the haze of many years has been cleared away at last from the actual site of Conawaga Castle. The map of General John S. Clark gives its position relative to other Mohawk villages. The plan here given, which was drawn by Reverend C. A. Walworth, shows more especially where this Indian fortress stood in reference to Fonda, on what are now called the Sand Flats, west of Kaya Dutta Creek. The spring which supplied the Mohawks with water is seen, distinctly marked in its cove, halfway down the hill from their castle, towards the Kaya Dutta. With this plan before us, it is needless here to repeat the details of this locality, already given in the chapter entitled Tekakritha's Spring. In our opening pages, we journeyed all the way up the Mohawk Valley from Albany, with here and there a passing glimpse at the scenery, till we reached the castle site at Fonda, which was then fully described. Since that time, we have traveled together through the highways and in the byways of history, over about 13 years of Tekakritha's life. Here we are again at Conawaga, and now that we are following up the course of events in regular order from the birth of Tekakritha, we find that she also has but recently arrived here, having just come to her new home from Gondawagwa. She can scarcely be called a child any longer, since she takes upon herself so much of the household care, and yet she is quite young, her life is a busy one, she has taken an active part with the women of her family and their neighbors in building the new bark house which they occupy within the enclosure of Palisades at Conawaga. Now at last they are quite comfortable. This is the way the Mohawks were accustomed to build their permanent lodges. They first took saplings and planted two rows of them firmly in the ground. Then they bent the tops of them over across the intervening space and tied them together. The shape of the house when finished was not unlike the top of an ambulance wagon. These arched ribs were supported and held in place by poles put in horizontally across the house near the top. The hole was then neatly covered with square overlapping pieces of bark held in place by poles that were tied down over them. The holes in the roof for chimneys and windows were not forgotten, nor the loose pieces of bark to pull over them in case of rain. The Jesuits often found these cabins smoky and dark, a severe test of their patience when engaged in literary pursuits or even in reading their brief airies. But for the Mohawks who had no such taste, they were good enough. When the house was finished on which Tekkukwitha worked with her aunts and her neighbors, it made a secure shelter for a score of families, all lodged under the same roof and all on one floor. That floor was the bare ground. When the dwelling was fitted up into compartments on either side, was spaces down the center for fires, alternating with spaces for family gatherings at mealtime. When the matrons had assigned to each and every member of the household certain lodge seats. When mats of rushes had been prepared and robes of skins were in their places for bed clothes on bunks along the sides of the house. When plenty of dried corn and smoked meat hung from the ridge poles of the roof for instant use. When the heavy wooden mortar and pestle were made and stood ready for pounding the corn. When nice little dishes of bark and wooden bowls were at hand, while tucked away in corners were baskets of wampum beads all ready to be strung into belts at the proper time. When all these things were in order, then at last, after the move from Gondawagwa on Orie's Creek, Tekakwitha felt free to rest and breathe easily. Then she might glance leisurely at the patch of sunlight falling on the floor of the lodge through the doorway at the far end, and decide in her own mind how much time she had before the next meal was to be prepared. Perhaps she would go out to take a look at the strong new palisade that her uncle and the warriors had planned so carefully for defense against the dreaded Mohigans. For she may have preferred to sit quietly by the spring for a while in the beautiful little cove. Being so near the castle, it was comparatively safe from the lurking enemy, who might attack them at any time. Wentworth Greenhall, an Englishman who went from Albany to Kanawaga in 1677, thus describes the castle. Kahaniaga is double-stockadoed round, has four forts, about four foot wide apiece, contains about twenty-four houses, and is situated upon the edge of an hill, about a bow shot from the riverside. He then gives the situation and size of the other Mohawk towns at that time, and closes his remarks by stating that their corn grew close by the river. The Mohawks chose the flats or river bottoms for cornfields because they were fertile, and besides they were natural openings with no trees to be cut down and cleared away. Much of Tekukwitha's time at certain seasons of the year was spent in these cornfields, and she must have witnessed, if not taken part in, some of the exciting scenes described by Pierron, who was then making his periodical rounds through the Mohawk villages. She frequently gives incidents of Mohawk women who were waylaid and scalped, or captured, by desultory bands of Mohigans and other tribes with whom they were at war. The constant fear of death that overhung them gave to the minds of these Mohawk squads a serious turn, and made them more willing than they would otherwise have been to listen to the warning words of the Black Gown. More than one of them, haunted perhaps by the remembrance of his pictures and his morality games, which were no less ingenious for gaining their attention, came and asked for baptism, Pierron succeeded also in rousing the chiefs to a sense of the degradation into which the constant purchase of brandy and rum at Albany was sinking them. He reminded them that, when once under its influence they were in no condition to repel the attacks, either of Satan or the Mohigans, both he and Frémain had themselves been sufferers during the drunken riots of the Indians. While the two fathers were together at Tyanontogen, they wrote, It seems sometimes as if the whole village had run mad, so great is the license they take when they give up to drinking. They have hurled firebrands at our heads. They have thrown our papers into the fire. They have broken open our chapel. They have often threatened us with death. And during the three or four days that these debaucheries last, and which recur with frequency, we must suffer a thousand insults without complaint, without food or sleep. In their fury they upset everything that comes in their way, and even butcher one another, not sparing relative, friend, countryman, nor stranger. These things are carried to such excess that the place seems to us no longer tenable. And we shall leave it only with life. When the storm is over, we are left to go on with our duties quite peaceably. This state of things continued for some time, as did also the raids of their enemies. It was in the midst of such bristling, savage thorns as these that the lily of the Mohawks grew up from childhood into womanhood. In her new home at Kanawaga during these stormy times, she lived a sweet, pure life, all uncontaminated. At last the Mohawk chiefs, won by Pierone's reiterated arguments, began to realize that they had among them, in intoxicating drink, a foreign demon more to be dreaded than those they worship in their dreams. They were induced to take measures against this excess in public counsel, and advised by Father Pierone that the most effectual means would be themselves to make their appeal to the Governor-General of Manhattan, the more prominent among them presented a petition which they had drawn for the purpose. This is the answer which the Governor gave to the request of the Mohawks and the letter of the Father which accompanied it, Father, by your last I am informed of your complaint, which is seconded by that of the Iroquois chiefs, the Satchams, the Indians, as appears more openly by their petition enclosed in yours, respecting the large quantity of liquors that certain ones of Albany have taken the liberty to sell to the Indians. As a consequence that great excesses are committed by them, and the worst is feared unless we prevent it. In response know that I have taken and will continue to take all possible care under the severest penalties to restrain and oppose the furnishing any excess to the Indians, and I am delighted to see such virtuous thoughts proceed from heathens to the shame of many Christians. But this must be attributed to your pious instructions. For well-versed and strict discipline you have shown them the way of mortification both by your precepts and practice. For a very humble and affectionate servant, Francis Lovelace, at Fort James, 18th of November 1668, Frémain and Pierron, during the two years 1668 and 1669, baptized 151 Indians, of which more than half were children or aged persons who died shortly after baptism. As the relation, this should be considered a sufficiently abundant harvest in a wasteland, and we may hope for much from such beginnings. We owe, under God, the birth of this flourishing church to the death and blood of the Reverend Father Jokes. He shed it at the very region where the new Christian church begins to arise, and it seems as though we are to see verified in our days, in his person, the beautiful words of Tertullian, the blood of martyrs is the seed of Christians. That Pierron was fired with the spirit of Jokes, who founded this Mohawk mission in his blood, is proved by the following words which he wrote in a moment of discouragement. I have attacked drunkenness and lewdness, which are divinities of the country. So madly are these people devoted to them. I have combatted these vices. I have employed gentleness and vigor, threats and entreaties, labors and tears, to build up this new church and to convert these poor savages. There remains nothing more than to shed my blood for their salvation, that which I long for with all the desires of my heart. But after all, I have not yet observed in them those marked amendments which the Holy Spirit affects in those of the heathen whom he would put in the number of the faithful. CHAPTER X of the Life and Times of Kateri Tekaklitha, the Lillia of the Mohawks by Ellen Wallworth, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Mohigans attack the new castle, battle of Kinekwaryonis, the Feast of the Dead. In the year 1669, in one of the long bark houses at Kanawaga, on a summer morning before the dawn, Tekaklitha is turning uneasily in her sleep. Suddenly her amps springs up beside her and speaks in a startled voice. In an instant all in the lodge are on the alert. Sharp, wild cries are heard, bullets pierce the stout palisade and come whizzing through the bark sides of the new house. The warriors, roused from sleep, seize their nearest weapons, be they guns, war clubs, tomahawks, or arrows. A hurried word to the women, aloud, whoop, a few bounding steps, and they are on the platform of the palisade hurling defiance at an assaulting army of Mohigans. Before them are hundreds of the foe in war paint and feathers, led by a stout man of middle age, the wise and gallant Chekatabat, the great sachem of the Massachusetts. His bearing makes him conspicuous among a scorer of famous sagamores who are leading the assault. In the motley ranks that follow are Hudson River Indians, mingled with the red-skinned neighbors of the Puritans, grim old warriors of the Massachusetts tribe. There are also Narragansett Braves and other New England Indians, all united in a desperate attempt to crush the Mohawks, and thus break in through the eastern door of the long house of the five nations. The assailants seek, now by open attack and now by strategy, to dislodge the defenders of Kanawaga from their lofty scaffolds and to fire the palisade. Four Mohawks drop from their places dead, and two are wounded, but the Mohigans make no perceptible headway against the defensive works of the castle. The struggle continues with unabated fury. Among those who fall on the side of the enemy are pupils of the English missionary Elliot, who knows something of the Bible which he has translated for them. Both of these converts to Puritanism are engaged in this expedition, of whom Badwan escapes with his life. They too, like the ever-increasing neophytes of Pyrrhon, are called praying Indians. Their chief, Chikatabhat, or Josiah, as he is often called, was himself a praying Indian once. That was when he lived with his pious uncle, Kuchamakan, one of Elliot's favorite pupils. He kept the Sabbath several years, says Gukin, but after turning apostate, and for several years last past separated from the praying Indians, and was but a back friend to religion. Indeed the English, who had a good opinion of him in his early days, now thought him a very vicious person, though all acknowledged he was as brave as brave could be, the Puritans had tried in vain to dissuade their Indian neighbors from accompanying this chief on his adventurous march to the Mohawk Valley. In spite of every drawback, however, Chikatabhat, whose name means a house of fire, had succeeded in bringing his army all the way from the vicinity of Boston to the Castle of Kanawaga. After they were joined by their allies they numbered six or seven hundred men. True, they had spent much of their ammunition on the march, shooting away their powder in the air, boasting, vaporing, and preting of their valour at the Indian villages where they had stopped for foraging purposes. And was their consequent lack of ammunition, which determined them to carry the Mohawk Castle, if possible, by assault. But the brave Kanayangas, or people of the Flint, though taken by surprise in their sleep, were quick to grapple with the daring Mohigans and fought like panthers. They were not to be easily overcome by any roving Indian foe in defense of their women and their homes. The squads of Kanawaga, with the well-known courage of their race, realized their perilous situation at the first alarm, and were arming themselves with knives and defensive weapons in case a breach should be made. The youths of the village were, many of them, fighting their first important battle on this occasion, the sight of the Mohawk women and young girls arming themselves as best they could to resist the Mohigan attack, was in itself an irresistible appeal to their tribesmen to exert themselves to the utmost and defending them against the well-known horrors of captivity, which would undoubtedly come upon them if the castle fell into the hands of the enemy. Many a young brave was nerved to desperate feats of valour on that morning, and during the days that followed, beginning with the sudden attack at dawn, the struggle continued for a long time with uncertain issue. News was carried to Tyanontogen that the whole country was lost, that Kanawaga was besieged by an army of Mohigans, that all the youth had already fallen, and perhaps the adjacent fort was in extremity. These reports, though exaggerated, caused the Mohawk warriors of the other castles to gather as fast as possible at Kanawaga. Even had they been all there at the very first, they would still have been fewer in numbers than the enemy, but before the sun was high enough of them had assembled to warrant a sally on the foe. Lyapuron was now at the castle, and a witness of the stirring events taking place there. Tecacritha too was taking her part among the young girls, whose fate now hung in the balance. The missionary thus describes what followed. By eight o'clock in the morning our warriors, without confusion, promptly arrayed themselves with all they have of greatest value, as is their custom in such encounters. And with no other leader than their own courage, went out in full force against the enemy. I was with the first to go, to see if amidst the carnage about the palisades of the village were so many unbelieving souls would perish, I might not be able to save someone. On our arrival we heard only cries of lamentation over the death of the bravest of the village. The enemy had retired after two hours of most obstinate fighting on both sides. There was but a single warrior of the loops, Mohegan's, left on the ground, and I saw that a barbarian, after cutting off his hands and feet, had flayed him and was stripping the flesh from the bones for a hateful repast. This was to honour Arasgoy. Tecquitha, ever helpful and ready to assist others, would probably be where she was most needed at that time, with the bereaved women who were seeking their dead, and with those who ministered to the wounded, no heart so quick as hers to turn with loathing from the hideous human sacrifice that was being prepared outside the castle walls. With the good deeds of the black-gown Pyrrhon, hourly before her, and the sound of his voice often in her ears, for this missionary could doctor as well as preach, she must have had constantly in her mind the thought of Rawa Nio during this time of peril and anxiety, and would not fail to call in spirit on the God of the Christians for assistance against the foe. The Mohegan army sat down before the castle, besieging it for some days, without effect. Though there was much firing back and forth, the provisions they had brought with them were about exhausted, and their munition well spent. Some of their people were sick, and they saw the impossibility of getting the stronghold by assault, so they broke up the siege to the great relief of the imprisoned Mohawks, and retreated twenty miles in the direction of the Dutch settlements. This brought them to Kenaquarionys, now called Taurouni, a steep rocky hill on the north side of the Mohawk River. It is just above Hoffman's Ferry, nine English or three Dutch miles west of Schenectady. Where they temporarily entrenched themselves, the Mohawks, who did not know of this camp, though secure for the time being in their castle, felt that in any case no time should be lost in following up the enemy as soon as they could make the necessary preparation. The women of Kanawaga, having laid aside their weapons, began at once to assist the warriors in making ready the supply of meal which, according to custom, was to be carried on the warpath. This was soon done as they had but to add a little maple sugar or other seasoning to the pounded corn which they had already twice charred or dried for use on just such expeditions. The warriors of the Mohawk Nation were now all assembled to go in pursuit of the Mohigans. Every man was fully armed and equipped, and their deerskin pockets were well filled with the crushed corn. They put themselves under the leadership of the brave warrior Krinn, surnamed the Great Mohawk. His home was at Kanawaga, and his valor and good management on this expedition won for him a new title, that of Conqueror of the Mohigans. He and his fellow tribesmen now hastily betadue to their families, who, together with the Blackgown Pierone, were to remain at the castle. When they embarked in canoes on the Mohawk, and aided by the force of the current, soon disappeared around the Great Bend of the River in the direction of Old Assernanon on the route to the Paleface Settlements. Anxious eyes and thoughts followed them. The bravest of two warlike races were now likely at any moment to meet in a decisive conflict. And who dare foretell the result? Not Tekakwitha, who waited in silence and concern. Nor her more valuable companions, whose anxiety took the form of restlessness. Having all done their share in defending the castle, they could now only watch and wait, looking often in the direction of the vanished braves, and hoping for news of the expedition from Chance Straglers. In the meantime the women were free to go back and forth to the spring, to care for the wounded, and to prepare the bodies of the dead for burial. The day after the departure of the warriors, there were rumors of a desperate battle in progress about twenty miles away. And on the following day at three o'clock in the afternoon came certain news of victory. It was a great triumph for the Mohawks, or Kaniyengas, bravest of the bold Canansiani. Chickatabat, the satcham of the Massachusetts, was slain. The noblest of the Mohegan warriors fell at his side. Those who escaped fled away to their distant kindred, humbled and ashamed, with lamentations and mourning for the loss of most of their chief men. The Mohawks were greatly elated. The gloom that hung over Kanawaga was changed to glad excitement. All prepared to welcome home the heroes of the Battle of Kenakwaryonis. Father Piron started at once, and alone, in the direction of the battlefield, to visit the wounded. He wished also to manifest to the warriors his interest in their victory. He arrived on the spot before nightfall. The warriors were glad to see him, and eager to relate all the particulars of the fight, this proved to be the last great battle between the Mohawks and the Mohegans. Its deeds of valor were told and retold for many a day at the Turtle Village, and in Tekakwita's hearing, with all the usual boastfulness of the Indian, Piron wrote a full account of all that happened from the time the Mohawk War Party set out from the castle in their canoes, till they returned to their homes in triumph. It is here given, in his own words, night overtaking them, the Mohawks, in their pursuit, they sent in advance, certain of their number, in quest of the enemy, and quietly to discover the place where he was encamped. As the scouts came within sight of the spot, desiring a better view of the situation, they drew still nearer, but notwithstanding their great caution, one of the loops on guard close by, hearing a noise, gave the customary challenge, Kuei, Kuei, this is the who comes there of the savages. As there was no response, and he saw nothing, he did not deem it necessary to give the alarm, from the report given by the spies on their return of the condition of the enemy, it was determined not to attack him in his lodging-place, where he appeared too well entrenched, but to prepare an ambush on the route it was believed he would take. In the execution of this plan, the Iroquois made a wide detour to lay their ambuscade in a cragged and most advantageous pass, which commanded the only route in the direction of the Hollander's. In the morning the loops decamped, and as they marched in single file after the Indian custom, twelve of them fell unexpectedly into the ambuscade, a shower of balls of which they were all at once made aware, immediately put to flight those that the casualty had spared, frightful cries at once rang through the forest, and the loops rallied at the same place where they had encamped. The Iroquois pursued them with vigor, on overtaking them they made a fierce assault, the loops at first made a stout resistance, but the cowardice of some among them, forcing the main body to recede before the fury of the Iroquois, ten of the whole band, made a stand within their works to defend themselves unto death. This new entrenchment greatly harassed our Agnes, Mohawks, but as they are an indefatigable and brave people they did not lose courage, nor the hope of driving out the enemy, and to succeed in this with the least peril they made use of an old tree which they found there and which they carried in front of them for protection. This they were able to do, instead of going up one by one to the place where the enemy was fortified. Their skill, however, did not avail them, for notwithstanding this device the loops did not omit to open a heavy fire from all sides, killing and wounding a number of our people, and the fight without doubt would have been still more disastrous if night had not terminated it, our Indians captured at the outset four women of the twenty-four who accompanied the expedition, and six men subsequently in the heat of the combat, the next morning as they were ready to renew the attack they found that the enemy had made their escape during the night, and that they were left masters of the battlefield. The victors, following the custom of the savages, tomahawked and scalped the loops left on the place, and then took care to bury those of their own people who had been slain in the fight. The Mohawks declared that nearly a hundred warriors on the side of the enemy had perished, either by the sword in the fray, or by water in flight. This was probably an exaggeration, continues Piron, as only nineteen scalps were secured. According to the story of the Mohegan captives, they lost fifty men on their side, thirteen falling on the field of battle, while they killed altogether nearly forty of the Mohawks. Piron thus describes the triumphal march back to Kanawaga from the field of action. We left, two days after the combat, in company with a large number, both those who had taken part in the fight, and those who had come to look on. The victors bore the scalps, well painted, and at the end of long batons made to support their trophies. The captives, divided into several bands, marched with singing, and as I perceived that one of the women had a sick infant, which she carried at the breast, I thought I would do well to baptize it, seeing it was about to die. The black gown accordingly took occasion to approach the mother as they were crossing a stream, caught up a handful of water, and, saying the short baptismal words, poured it on the little head, which soon drooped in death. He had already instructed some of the captives, and in the course of a few days all of them asked for baptism. On first reaching the castle, the Mohican prisoners of war were received and tortured in the usual manner. Piron could do nothing for them, while the heat of passion and enmity towards the victims lasted, but, watching his chance, he saw that they were left alone for a time on the torture scaffold, before being killed, surrounded still by the ghastly scalps of their companions. He at once led them down from the hateful platform, and took them into a cabin nearby to prepare them, if possible, for a Christian death. While he was speaking to them earnestly of their salvation, some of the Iroquois came and stood near, saying to one another, Do you see how he loves our enemies? Some among them added, He ought to leave them to burn in hell. People who have done us so much evil! Piron, overhearing this, turned about and seeing that a crowd of the villagers had assembled caught up the words of the discontented Mohawks, and taking them for his text, explained so well and so forcibly the teaching of Christ on the Mount, that in a little while the Indians who had gathered about him were all of one mind, and declared that he did well to teach the captives. They no longer interfered with his self-imposed task, but gave him ample time to instruct them. Before the doomed Mohigans were finally put to death, they all received baptism. Among them, we are told, was one of the bravest and most celebrated warriors of that nation, who in the combat had slain with his own hand several Iroquois. Submitting to Piron's influence, the fierce Mohawks did not grudge, even to this warrior, whatever happiness he might be able to secure, through the Blackgown's ministrations, in another world. Still by little these Mohawks were veering round in the direction of Christianity, under the firm and steady, but gentle guidance of their devoted missionary. Whether or not they were willing to listen, his stirring voice still rang in their ears, and whether or not they realized the fact, it was certainly true, that he was treated every day with more and more of respect and trust. The next important event that took place at Kanawaga was the Feast of the Dead. Here again, though Tekekwita was certainly present, and must have known all that was going on, her biographers have given no account of it. Piron, however, has taken care to write out a full description of this great feast. It occurred only once in ten years. He of course, in his important position as the representative among them, both of Christianity and of his French countrymen, deals only with what concerned the whole Mohawk nation. He had little or no time to note the changes that were taking place in the young Tekekwita. No word had passed between the two since his return from Quebec. If she had ought to say to him, she was forbidden to say it. Likely enough he did not even recognize her when he saw her, though he may have remembered the appearance of a little maiden, who some years before had lodged him at Kandawaga. We who have followed the course of her life more closely, can easily single out Tekekwita from the crowd that has gathered to witness the strange ceremonies that are taking place in the woods not far from the castle. The bones of all the friends and relations of these people who have died within the last ten years have been carefully and reverently cleaned, scraped, and collected together to be deposited in a common pit prepared for their reception. The best and richest of beaver skins and other furs are freely brought forward that the pit may be lined with their beautiful warm surfaces. It is at night, amid the wailing chants of the women and the flaming of torches, that the relics of the dead, with many a last caressing touch, are deposited in the great pit. They are encased in separate robes with precious gifts. There are many tragic demonstrations of grief, a weird pathetic scene it is, and makes a strange and lasting impression on the minds of the young people who witness it for the first time. After the pit has been filled and covered over, the women are to be seen trudging back and forth to the village with hampers of food to be deposited on the gigantic grave for the use of their departed friends. It is only after the feast of the dead is over that the soul is supposed to take its final journey to the spirit land. Previous to this celebration, they believe that it hovers near the body which they expose on a bark scaffold or else put in a sitting posture in a temporary grave covered lightly with bark or twigs. During the progress of this feast, quite a dispute arises among the assembled chiefs concerning the treatment received by Pierron. He has been cordially invited to be present and now stands among the dignitaries of the Mohawk Nation, in company with Tecac with his uncle and other chiefs. The black gown lets no part of the ceremony escape his notice. Distinguished guests from Oneida and Onondaga have placed themselves in separate groups according to custom, and Onondaga chief has risen to make a speech. Near enough to see and hear what is going on are the women of Kanawaga who so lately took part in the defense of a castle. Tecac with his blanket partly conceals her face, but she is quite as richly dressed as the other young squads. What she does not see or hear directly, she can quickly gather from the talk of those about her. When the Onondaga has finished speaking, the Mohawk chiefs recount in turn the leading superstitions and fables of the nation. They are well known already to most of the people who only half listen to what is being said. Presently there is a stir among the Mohawk dignitaries which centers the attention of all within Irshat on the group. Pierron, it seems, has ceased to be a silent listener to what passes. He begins in his turn to tell fables, giving them here and there an extremely ridiculous turn. In the midst of it he is abruptly ordered by one of the chiefs to be silent. All are now eager to get at the truth of what has occurred. Some loudly up-braid the chief for his discourtesy. Others bitterly accuse Pierron of an untimely interference with their customs. They say that he has been openly ridiculing their beliefs. His mouth must be stopped at once. But Pierron, knowing full well his influence with the people and judiciously appealing to their love of fair play, boldly addresses the offending chief in these words, now distinctly heard by the listening throng. Does thou know, indeed, that thou hast given me the keenest affront I could have received? And who art thou to order me to be silent? And am I here to obey thee? If I had treated thee after this sort at Quebec, wouldst thou not have had cause to complain? But in what have I spoken evil, that my mouth should be closed? And if I speak the truth, why art thou not willing to hear? The chief replied that it was their custom on these occasions to keep up their fables. Pierron stoutly rejoined, it is your custom to get intoxicated, honestly. Is it a good custom, and ought I to approve it? It is your custom to violate every law of reason and to live as the beast. Think ye, it is not my duty to reprove you for all these vices, and yet you impose silence upon me when I would speak to you. Is this reasonable? As Pierron and the chief could come to no agreement, the black gown withdrew from among the Mohawks when the singing began, and took his place in the group of onondaga guests, who received him with marked respect. The ceremony lasted five hours. When it was over, Pierron returned at once to Conawaga village, leaving the Mohawks still in the forest on the spot where the solemnity was conducted. A rumour was circulated there to the effect that the black gown meant to return to Quebec. It was not long before the brisk Mohawk chief who had given offence came to him in the village to offer an apology for his conduct, saying, My brother, up to this hour we have acted toward each other as the two best friends in the world, then placing his hand on his heart he added, Tell me then frankly in what humour is thy soul? They say that thou goest to Quebec, and will no more come to live with us. If this be so, I implore thee not to get us into difficulty with our noncio, for this would bring trouble upon thyself. If so many, both old and young, who greatly love and honour thee, should for this reason receive ill treatment, tell me then what is in thy heart, and what are thy sentiments? Pierron, in a grave and serious manner, seldom assumed by him, replied, It has been told thee that I have an irritated mind, and a heart full of grief. This is true, and thou knowest well that thou art the cause. Thou hast treated me with the greatest indignity, thou hast even presumed to impose silence when I would speak of the faith, which is the thing of all else. As thou art not ignorant, I have most at heart. Did it not confuse thee to see me so well received by the onondagas, whom I did not know, driven out by those who professed to be our friends? After listening patiently till he was through, the chief said with earnestness, My brother, I see what is at the bottom of this quarrel. It is that we are not yet Christians. But if thou wilt leave this important affair to me, I promise thee success. This is what thou must do. First convoke a council, and then having given three belts to our three families. At each present speak out thy mind. After this leave me to act, and I trust all will go well. All did go well to the great delight of Father Pyrrhon. The old chief, who was high in authority, went to work so energetically, sending his nephews out in every direction, that he soon assembled all the grandees of the Mohawk nation in the cabin of Pyrrhon. The black gown did indeed speak out his mind with such decided effect that his words were received with loud cries of applause. He threw down a fathom of Wampum, saying, Anya, my brother, if it is true that thou art willing to hear me, there is my voice, which warns thee and entreats thee wholly to renounce agrascoia, and never speak to him, but to adore the true God and follow his law. He threw down a second fathom of Wampum to oblige the medicine men no more to invoke demons for the cure of diseases, but to use natural remedies. Again and again the speaker was applauded, even the medicine men who were present in the assembly showed their goodwill on this occasion. The last present, to destroy the superstition of the dances, was received with no less acclamation than the other two. It was Pyrrhon's moment of triumph, the reward of his unceasing efforts in their behalf. The whole Mohawk nation seemed ready to do his will. The council, which met some days after, included the delegation from Onondaga. These distinguished strangers had just returned from the visit they made to the Dutch after taking part in the Feast of the Dead. Gara Kantier, the chief of the Onondaga's, himself soon to become a Christian, now raised his powerful voice in support of Pyrrhon, saying to the people, Take his word, for he has sacrificed all for you. The black-gown triumphed at last. The sorcerers of the village cast their turtle shell rattles into the fire. The women no longer called in the medicine men to cure their diseases. No dances were allowed, which were not approved by Pyrrhon, and the oyanders or nobles brought their youth in crowds to the chapel to be instructed. What more could the black-gown wish? Alas, he knew the Indians too well, and he adds, in the moment of his success, their natural inconstancy still divides my heart between fear and joy. So far as Tekakwitha was concerned, no fear as yet disturbed the calm content of her spirit. The lily of the Mohaks, quite unnoticed in the retirement of her lodge, was taking note of all these things, and was waxing fairer every day in the sunny light of Rawa Nio's presence in the land. The true God, the great spirit, they tell her, is now to be worshiped by all the people. She hears them cry out through the village, Hail to Rawa Nio, down with sorcery, down with Areskoe. These words are like sweet music in the ears of Tekakwitha. She is in a dream of happiness, a daydream of the spirit. Her busy fingers drop their work, unconscious of this unaccustomed idleness. Her thoughts are all of God. Tekakwitha's first and last and only love is Rawa Nio. She hears his voice, she feels his presence in the pure air she breathes, for Areskoe has fallen from his throne. In the quiet and seclusion of the long house, all alone, she hears the noises of the crowd outside, like distant murmurs. But the name of the true God echoes in her ears, and she is happy. Why not leave her so? Let us not disturb her. Why should she be roused to suffer? Must the lily droop her head, and thirst and die, like the rest of Rawa Nio's Lass, it must be so. But let us not forget that this lily of the Mohawks has a soul, though it is still like a little bird that breathes and just begins to move, but has not tried its strength. In sorrow the wings of the soul are developed, when once they have grown strong it will be easy for Tekakwitha to fly away through the door of death to Rawa Nio. CHAPTER XI of the Life and Times of Kateri Tekakwitha, the lily of the Mohawks, by Ellen Walworth, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Will Tekakwitha marry? It is time for Tekakwitha to marry, said her aunts. Her uncle was of the same opinion. She will make a desirable wife, they thought, a docile and a useful one. It will be easy to find a brave young hunter for her, who will be glad to live in the lodge of the leading chief at Kanawaga. Then there will always be plenty of game brought to the lodge for food, and a good supply of furs to exchange at Albany for the goods of the cloth-workers. Thus the adopted parents of the young girl put their wise old heads together, and soon Tekakwitha's peace of mind was sadly disturbed by their new-laid plans, until now she had been happy in her own way. Her uncommon skill and natural ingenuity developed and found vent in her daily tasks, though sometimes to be sure they must have become wearysome and monotonous. It was she who pounded the Indian corn and made the soup, or sagamite, day after day. This sagamite took the place of bread with the Indians. She also distributed the food when prepared to the members of the family, and saw that each person's dish was properly filled at the right time. Like all generous natures, she was accustomed to take more than her share of the burden, and likely enough less than her share of the sagamite. Chauchatier speaks more than once of her esprit, her ready wit, and also of her skill. She says, judging from the work which I have seen her do, it will be easy for me to affirm that she worked delicately in porcupine and in elkskin. She made the belts, or burden straps, with which the Indian women and girls carry wood. She made those which the old men use in conducting the affairs of the nation, which are composed of beads of porcelain, wampum. And one of the occupations of the squaws is also to sow, since they have learned how to do it, either from those who have been slaves among them, or from the wives of Christians from Europe. She knew well how to make certain ribbons which the savages make with the skins of eels or strong bark. She prepared these skins, or this bark, and she reddened them, applying the color with sturgeon paste, which is used very skillfully among the Iroquois. She knew more than other Iroquois girls, for she could make nets, very well indeed, and cases of buckets which the savages used to draw water. Thus her dexterity furnished her with plenty of occupation. Sometimes she was making a pestle, or pounder, for crushing Indian corn. Sometimes she was forming a mat out of bark, and again she was preparing poles on which to hang the ears of corn. Although she was the youngest in her uncle's family, and was delicate from the time her mother died, she was always the first one at work, and the last to take a holiday. It was quite a trial to her then, when she found the first symptom of trouble to come, that she would no longer be allowed to spend her time as best pleased herself. Her aunts now insisted that she should wear her prettiest moccasins and all her ornaments, and that she should go with them to dances and feasts, for which she had a distaste, and some features of which were loathsome to her. She was so accustomed, from an inborn sense of duty, to obey those who stood to her in the place of father and mother, that she went as far toward fulfilling their wishes in regard to her costume and her attendance at popular amusements, as her extreme timidity and acute sense of modesty would allow. These last mentioned qualities were among her most marked characteristics. Her aunts, whose natures were of a very different fiber from her own, could have had little or no thought how this compliance on her part, out of respect for them, distressed her. Although it could scarcely have cast the faintest shadow of a mist across the whiteness of her soul, she was known long afterwards to regret and to grieve bitterly for this indulgence and little vanities. Her aunts could not and did not try to understand her. They thought she was queer. It seemed strange to them that Techequitha took so little pleasure in the festive customs of the Mohawks. They decided that it was due to her Algonquin origin. In other words, she was like her mother, so much the worse for her. It would have pleased them better to have had her resemble her father's family. But after all the Algonquins were a gentle yielding race, and they thought they would soon bend her to their will. When they stated plainly the object they had in view and thus bringing her forward, which was that she should marry. Techequitha's whole nature was roused to resistance at the mere mention of such a thing, and every power of her soul was brought into action to thwart their plan. Though long accustomed to bedassile and obey, she showed at this time a sudden development of will with inherent force to mold its own fate, and a strength of character that had not before asserted itself. This must have proved to her aunts that after all there was something of the Mohawk in her nature. Sure of her own natural and inalienable right to decide for herself in this important question, she was unconquerable. This is clearly shown in the struggle of will against will in which she was now enlisted and in which the odds were decidedly against her. But though her whole nature was roused at the well-meant, though in this case unwelcome and premature proposition of her aunts, Techequitha was too wise and too self-poised to break at once into open rebellion. She did not announce her secret determination to go through fire and water, if necessary, rather than submit to the plan of her relatives. Why she did not wish to marry was perhaps at that time as much a mystery to herself as to others, but the fact remained, she could not and would not think of it for a moment. When therefore they proposed to establish her in life, says Shaleneck, she excused herself under different pretexts, alleging above all her extreme youth and the little inclination she had to enter into marriage. The relatives seemed to approve of these reasons, but the matter was not allowed to rest for any length of time. Charlevoix tells us that she made an energetic resistance to all offers. For the moment it was not insisted upon, but soon they returned to the charge and to spare themselves the trouble of listening to her remonstrances engaged her without her knowledge to a young man. As his alliance appeared desirable to the family of the chief, the proposition was made, according to custom, both to him and to the members of his family. While Tecacwitha alone, the very one to whom it was of the utmost consequence, was kept in entire ignorance of the proceeding. This was easily done, owing to her habitual seclusion and the peculiar custom of the country. Whenever marriage is in agitation, to use once more the words of Shaleneck, the business is to be settled by the parents, and the parties most interested are not even permitted to meet. It is sufficient that they are talking of the marriage of a young Indian with a young female, to induce them with care to shun, seeing, and speaking with each other. When the parents on both sides have agreed, the young man comes by night to the wigwam of his future spouse, and seats himself near her, which is the same as declaring that he takes her for his wife and she takes him for her husband. The bride then presents the young man with sagamite, or corn cakes, and sometimes with wood, in token of what is to be her duty in the lodge. He on his part sends presents of beaver skins to the family of the bride. Thus marriages were made among the Iroquois Indians. Like with his relations, not knowing the force of the young girl's will, decided among themselves that the shortest and easiest way to overcome her unaccountable opposition would be to take her by surprise. They did not even allow her to choose the person to whom she was to be united. They desired to entrap her, unaware, into the simple and silent ceremony of an Iroquois marriage. Thus her fate would be sealed, and she forced to submit. Should she be able to thwart this wicked plan? And what effect would it be likely to have on her future conduct? Her aunts acted coldly and harshly in this momentous matter, quite disregarding her rights and her feelings. They felt too confident of success to look beyond the present moment, or else they presumed very far indeed on her well-known sweet temper and kindly disposition. Chochetier, who received his information chiefly from Taken Hatsihango, says of her character and reputation at this time, she was neither vicious nor a gadabout, nor a great chatterer, nor idle, nor proud, which is a common vice among the young savages. She was not attached to visions nor to dreams. Neither had she ever cared much to assist at dances or games. But she had shown on several occasions that she was prudent. But she was naturally timid, not daring to show herself when there was need that she should. Tekkuk with a sat one evening on a low seat by the fire, her own lodge seat, which had been assigned to her by the chief matron in her uncle's household. The light of the blazing faggots before her played on her beaded moccasins and showed off to advantage her richly embroidered skirt. In her sitting posture it hung far over and half concealed her pretty leggings. Strings of wampum beads and curious devices were about her neck, and the end of a long, rich scarf or girdle which she wore lay on the ground beside her. Her work for the day was done, and she had dawned these things in obedience to her aunt's desire. Why? She did not know, and little cared. They often had company, then why not tonight? One of her aunts had given the finishing touch to her costume, and dressed her hair with her own hands. It was not by any means the first time she had done so. The guests, whoever they might prove to be, seemed to have changed their minds and gone elsewhere, for she was now left quite to herself. She was just weary enough to enjoy fully the rest and quiet, and was thinking perhaps of a pattern which she intended to work into a wampum belt for her uncle to be used in making a treaty. Likely enough it would be for the Treaty of Peace between the Mohawks and Mohigans which was brought about after the Battle of Kinaquarionis by the people of Albany. Or she may have had in mind, as she sat there musing by the fireside, one of the black gown's pictures which she had lately seen. If she had noticed at all the rich gift of furs that had been brought to the lodge and carefully put away, she never suspected that it was meant for a wedding present from the family of a young man for whom her aunts had expressed great esteem. But now, while her thoughts are far from any such idea, the young man who desires her for his wife, and who has been kept by the laws of Indian decorum from approaching her for some time past, or addressing her himself on the subject, enters the wigwam in holiday attire. He is accompanied by some of his relatives, whilst those of Tecuk with us step forward to receive them. The eye of the young Indian kindles with pleasure at sight of his bride, so gaily bedecked with all the insignia of her rank. Her apparent unconcern at what is passing, he easily attributes either to maiden coyness or Indian stoicism, for sides all know that she is extremely shy, so with a ready assurance of a welcome, he walks quickly toward her and seats himself in silence by her side. Tecuk witha, utterly taken by surprise, is for a moment bewildered, disconcerted. Her aunts now bid her present the young man with some sagamite. In a moment she realizes what they are doing, that in spite of herself she is taking part in her own wedding. The hot blood rushes to her face. She blushes, but gives no other sign of what is in her mind. What can she do? For an instant she is in an agony of suspense. Then with quick determination she rises abruptly, and all aflame with indignation passes quick as thought out of the longhouse. Could her relatives had fancied she had risen to do their bidding? Her aunts knew bet her. Unflinchingly she had met their scowling looks and felt the keen fierce eye of her uncle upon her as she moved toward the door. Had her path been over red-hot coals, it would have made no difference then to Tecuk witha. Her only and over-mastering impulse was to escape at all hazards. No matter how, nor where. Once out of the stifling air of the cabin she hurried on and on taking an accustomed path out of mere force of habit till it brought her to the familiar cornfields. There breathless and trembling she hid herself away with a prayer to Rauenio to save her from the young hunter whom she did not want, and also from the angry eyes of her relatives, and like burning irons pierced her heart, soon they came to seek her and urged her with threats and with entreaty to go back to the cabin. They had made excuses for her absence, and if she would but return with them now all would yet be well. Tecuk witha, who was by this time calm and collected, replied quietly but firmly that she would not enter the lodge at all while the young man was there. Finding it impossible to move her, they returned and explained the affairs best they could to the relatives of a now indignant young hunter. He had been no less surprised at her strange conduct than she had been at his unexpected errand to the lodge. There was no course left for him but to withdraw. She then returned to the lodge, and having borne the brunt of angry words with which she was received, retired wearily to rest in the angry silence which followed. It was many and many a long day to Tecuk witha, before the storm which she had thus raised about her own head had spent its fury in a series of domestic persecutions, till at last it was lulled to rest by the calm endurance of her firm, vagental spirit. Several times after this her relatives tried to force her into marriage. On one occasion she adroitly hid behind a case of Indian corn. "'In everything else?' says Chauchetier. She was good, industrious, peaceable, and agreeable. When she chose to give the word for a laugh, none ever had ought to complain of, and they liked her company. She never resented the railery which was constantly aimed at her, on account of her desire to remain unmarried. Her good nature exempted her at this time from several difficulties into which she would have fallen if she had not been possessed of natural patience, and if she had not liked better to suffer everything herself, rather than to make others suffer. Sholanek further says that the firmness of Tecuk witha rendered her relatives outrageous, for they felt as though they had received an insult. Artifice not having proved successful, they had recourse to violence. They now treated her as a slave, obliging her to do everything which was most painful and repulsive, and malignantly interpreting all her actions, even when most innocent. They reproached her without ceasing for the want of attachment to her relations, her uncouth manners, and her stupidity, for it was thus that they termed the dislike she felt to marriage. They attributed it to a secret hatred of the Iroquois nation because she was herself of the Algonquin race. In short, they omitted no means of shaking her constancy. The young girl suffered all this ill treatment with unwearyed patience, and without ever losing anything of her equanimity of mind or her natural sweetness. She rendered them all the services they required, with an attention and a docility beyond her years and strength. By degrees her relatives were softened, restored to her their kind feelings, and did not further molest her in regard to the course she had adopted. A custom of the Indians in which Tecuk witha must have taken part about this time, with the other Mohawk girls of her age, was the corn feast. On this supposition a brief description is here given of what was ever one of the merriest of their celebrations. The red men, with the true poetic spirit of nature's children, distinguished the various times of the year as the Sturgeon month or moon, the beaver month, the bear month, and so on, according to the kind of hunting or fishing than in progress, while the different seasons were known as the time when strawberries or chestnuts blossom, or as the time of corn planting and when it is ripe. It was when the corn was ripe that the corn feast began. The plentiful crop of Indian maize was gathered together in one place, and the Mohawk girls assembled with laugh and song to celebrate the harvest. The festival took place in a field in the open air. The warriors and old men, not dainting to take part in this woman's frolic, sat at one side, though not far away, and lazily smoked their pipes. They only betrayed, now and then, by the merriest twinkle of an eye, that they took any notice of what was going on. The aged squas hung on the outskirts of the group of girls, urging them on with jests and shrill screams of laughter. The young squas were busily employed, husking the ears of corn and throwing them together into heaps, after which they braided them into bunches of twenty, to be hung up and dried. This is preparatory to shelling, pounding, and making the corn into cakes of fine flour for future use. But the part of the whole process which pleases the young squas best is the husking. They sing together, snatches of song, and toss the ears of corn gaily from one to another. All the while they keep a keen eye on each separate ear as the soft husk is torn from it, and the silky tassels fall loosely away from the thick set rows of juicy kernels. But what has happened to Tecuk wither there in the midst of them? How they shout with laughter! Why is she blushing so? In her hand she holds a bright red ear of corn, instead of a white one, and a saucy girl calls out the name of a young hunter, most likely of the one from whom Tecuk wither so recently hid away. A red ear of corn is always the sign of a brave admirer. That is why it is watched for so eagerly. Here he is! They say to the bashful girl, see, he has come to woo you again! She who is easiest tease of them all on a subject like this feels like running away once more to escape their jests. Or throwing the ear of corn at the saucy girl. But she is brave, though shy, and a maker of fun herself, so she does not move, but keeps her eyes well open and awaits her chance. As good fortune would have it, she soon spies her mischievous companion unsheathing a crooked ear of corn, tapering to a point and quite bent over like a queer little man. Walk ameen, walk ameen! She calls out to the unlucky girl, walk ameen! Although they have often plagued Tecuk wither in the Lodge, with being Algonquin rather than Mohawk, she does not hesitate on this occasion to recall the song of her mother's race. Walk ameen, walk ameen, walk ameen! Which are the words sung in the north and west when a crooked ear of corn is found. Enough of Algonquin tradition, learned from their captives, lingered among the Mohawks for them to understand these words, which mean the little old corn thief walker at night. The laugh is now on the saucy girl who called attention to Tecuk wither, then catching at the suggestion conveyed by the word wagameen, they break forth gaily into the serial chorus of the Algonquin corn song. Playfully and with many gestures, words like those which follow, are recited by one of the girls, alternating again and again with the chorus. Schoolcraft's version of the Mary Indian corn song is as follows. Serial chorus, wagameen, wagameen! Thief in the blade, blight of the cornfield, pae mosaid, recitative. See you not traces while pulling the leaf, plainly depicting the taker and thief. See you not signs by the ring and the spot, how the man crouched as he crept in the lot. Is it not plain by this mark on the stalk that he was heavily bent in his walk? Old man be nimble, the old should be good, but thou art a cowardly thief in the wood. Chorus, wagameen, wagameen, et cetera. Where little taker of things not your own, where is your rattle, your drum, and your bone? Surely a walker so nimble of speed, surely he must be a juggler indeed. See how he stoops as he breaks off the ear. Nushka he seems for a moment to fear. Walker be nimble, oh walker be brief. Who it is plain, the old man is the thief. Chorus, wagameen, wagameen, et cetera. Wabuma, corn taker, why do you lag? None but the stars see you, fill up your bag. Why do you linger to gaze as you pull? Tell me, my little man, is it most fall? Ah, Tia, see a red spot on the leaf? Surely a warrior can't be a thief. Ah, little night thief, be dear your pursuit, and leave here no print of your dastardly foot. Chorus, wagameen, wagameen, thief in the blade, blight of the cornfield, pae moseid. End of chapter 11. Chapter 12 of the Life and Times of Kateri Tekakwissa. The Lily of the Mohawks by Ellen Malworth. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The new colony of Christian Indians on the St. Lawrence, the great Mohawk goes to Canada. Tekakwissa was quite old enough to have decided opinions of her own on whatever concerned her individual life. She had also proved in her recent struggle that she possessed sufficient strength of will to act upon her convictions. Some of these convictions she had never yet mentioned to anyone, but she had for some time fully made up her mind to take a decided step. She was only waiting a favorable opportunity to declare her determination to become a Christian. She felt that this would not be an easy thing to do, for besides her strong propensity to shrink as much as possible from all observation, she saw that her uncle was becoming every day more bitter in his opposition to the teachings of the black gowns. The Feast of the Dead in 1669 was closely followed by a public renunciation in the Mohawk country of Ereskoia or demon worship. This was accompanied by the burning of charms, turtle shell rattles and other badges used by the medicine men. Similar ceremonies took place about the same time among the Anandagas and in other parts of the Longhouse of the Five Nations. Paganism had fallen, Ereskoia was disowned and his name is not even known in our days among the Iroquois. The next step of the missionaries was to implant Christian truth and Christian feeling in their hearts. This was another and more difficult task. Though the Iroquois Indians of the Five Nations have not since worshiped any other than the Great Spirit or true God known in the Mohawk language as Rahueno and though the sacrifices to Ereskoia ceased in the Mohawk Valley after the Great Feast of the Dead in 1669, practically the life of the Mohawks was still Pagan in almost every other respect. Father Pierron at Tyon Antigine or St. Mary's and his assistant Father Boniface who took charge of a small bark chapel called St. Peter's which the Indians themselves built at Kanawaga Castle. Both continued their missionary labors with unabated zeal but for some time they had only partial success. In 1670, 84 baptisms were recorded at St. Mir in June. The great on and dogged chief, Garacontier was solemnly baptized at Quebec. It was hoped that other chiefs of the Iroquois would soon follow his example. Father Bruya, who on first coming among the people of the Longhouse had been lodged three days in the cabin of Techic with his uncle came back from the Oneida country in 1671. He was made superior of the Mohawk mission in place of Pierron. This missionary, the painter of pictures and the inventor of games, received orders to return to Canada to take charge of a new village of Christian Indians which was then being formed on the South Bank of the St. Lawrence. As the latter part of Techic with his life was closely connected with the growth and development of this new Christian colony of Indians in Canada. And as we shall have occasion frequently to allude to it, some further account of it will not be out of place here. The site first chosen was at La Prairie de la Madeleine just across the broad swell of the river from Montreal on attractive land belonging to the Jesuits and hitherto untenanted. The Canadians called this Indian settlement Saint-François-Cavier-Dépré and a little later when that same mission was moved up close to the great Lachine Rapids in the St. Lawrence river, it was known as Saint-François-Cavier-Dessu which last is in reality nothing more than the Indian name of Kanawaga put into French and still meaning at the Rapids. This Christian settlement was started by the temporary sojourn at La Prairie of several Onidas and Mohawks who had been on a visit to Quebec and Montreal. They were attracted to the spot by Father Rafe who built a little chapel there. It grew by accessions from among the five nations and was encouraged by the French government in the hope of thus gaining useful allies. Indians who came first from curiosity or for temporary shelter and hospitality afterwards settled there with their families and friends. The Jesuit fathers on their part were much pleased with the growth of this village and took occasion to make of it a distinct settlement of Christian Indians. It soon became a general rendezvous for their converts from among the different nations and tribes of Indians many of whom by residing there were quite withdrawn from the contagious pagan influences which surrounded them in their own country. All who went to live at Saint-François-Cavier-Dessu were obliged to renounce with solemn promises these three things. First, the idolatry of dreams. Second, the changing of wives, a practice invoke at Iroquois feasts. And third, drunkenness. Anyone among them known to have relapsed into any of these practices was expelled at once from the settlement by the ruling chiefs. These were chosen by the Indians themselves from among the more fervent Christians. They were generally men who had ranked high in their own country and who were attracted to the praying castle, as it was called, either from motives purely religious or on account of some bereavement or disappointment experienced in their old homes. Several of these Christian chiefs were famous characters in the history of the time. Two of them, Crin and Hot Ashes, are closely connected with the life of Tecacritha. Crin, the great Mohawk, has already been mentioned in connection with the Battle of Kenakwaryonis. His Christian name was Joseph and his Indian name Toghoy Rhoi. He was also called the Conqueror of the Mohigans. He dwelt with his wife at Kanawaga on the Mohawk and they had an only daughter whose bright disposition made all in the town love her. After some difficulty with his wife on account of this child, he deserted her and went off for a long journey. The mother, it seems, had been converted by Father Boniface and had declared herself a Christian just six months before she was thus deserted. Soon after the departure of her husband, she was severely tried by the death of her daughter. This little girl had been her only consolation and hope after she was forsaken by Crin. Her friends now blamed her for adopting strange customs, saying it was that which had made her husband leave her and which had caused the death of her child. In spite of all this, Crin's wife became more devoted than ever to her new faith. She was seen going to the little bark chapel of St. Peter's every night and morning and often received the sacraments from the hands of Father Boniface, first an assistant to Pyrrhon and now under Bruya. He still carried on the mission at Kanawaga. In course of time, he became very successful in winning the Mohawks of that place to Christianity. 30 adults were baptized within a short time. After the morning and evening prayers of the chapel, a choir of children sang hymns in the Iroquois language and every Sunday the primitive Christian love feast or ceremony of blessed bread took place in the cabin of a pious Mohawk woman. At Christmas time, the little bark chapel at Kanawaga was aglow with lights and bedecked with evergreens. All day long, the people of the Turtle Village, much changed in mind since the torture and murder of Isaac Jokes, stole silently in and out of St. Peter's rustic shrine. The cross, considered uncanny and strange in the days of Goupel, had at last become a familiar sign among the turtles in the Mohawk Valley. The crowd that gathered at the chapel door on Christmas Day looked up at it again and again as they stood out in the snow and the cold December blast, waiting patiently for an opportunity to enter. There in the chapel, Father Boniface had placed a fair little statue of the infant Jesus lying in his wretched manger on the straw. This Christmas crib was a strange and wonderful sight to the simple Indians. Those who had become Christians told and retold the Bethlehem story in all its details to the curious people who gathered about the image of the little Christ child to gaze and wonder. Tecquitha saw and heard all that was going on at the chapel, but said nothing. Her aunts were there also and her adopted sister. Tegun Hatsihango, whose Christian name was Anastasia, would of course be present on such an occasion, and also the family of Crin, the wife of the great Mohawk, having chosen her part and received baptism, now maintained her ground with courage. Deserted and childless, she held firmly to her newfound faith, notwithstanding the abuse she received from friends and neighbors. Soon after this storm, says good Father Boniface, God rewarded her fidelity, for in place of a little girl whom he had taken from her, he gave her back her husband, a Christian. Crin, in his wanderings, had by chance strayed into the new village at La Prairie. There he met Father Frémont, who with Pyrrhon and Bruya had formerly been Tecquitha's guests. Crin listened to all that Frémont had to say to him, having known and respected him during his brief stay in the Mohawk country, when the mission was first begun after Detrace's expedition, the great Mohawk resolved to become a Christian. Furthermore, he decided that the best way for him to remain a Christian and to become a good one would be to join the new Indian settlement in the land of the French. He was a natural leader of men, bold and uncompromising. He had a large following among his own people on the Mohawk. His next move, therefore, after becoming a Christian, was to return to his old home to find his forsaken wife and to announce publicly the views he had embraced during his absence. The people gathered with interest and amazement to hear what their old leader had to say. None dared oppose him when he proclaimed his determination to leave everything that could draw him back to his old manner of life and offered to lead all who would follow him to La Prairie on the bank of the St. Lawrence. He gave his friends but brief time to consider his words and to make hurried preparations for a journey. Then at break of day, the wild gathering cry of the great Mohawk resounded once more as of old through the streets of Kanawaka Castle. All knew it well. For time and time again, it had called them out to battle. With a strange thrill and start of alarm, they heard it once more. But only those in the village who were baptized, both men and women, or who meant soon to become Christians rallied about him now, nor even all of these, for in that case, take it with a would've been of the number. A band of 30 or 40 gathered at his call and with a sad hurried farewell to their friends, their homes and the valley, they turned and followed in the footsteps of Crin who thus led them away into exile. She, well, calls these Indians a noble band of pilgrims for religion's sake. Tekakwitha's adopted sister probably went either with this band or with those who accompanied Father Boniface to Canada a little later. For soon after this event, we learned that she was living at Saint-François-Savier-du-Sous with her husband, that they were both Christians and that Anastasia-Tigan-Hatsihango also dwelt there and in the same cabin with them. The health of Father Boniface was completely broken down by the hardships he had undergone among the Mohawks. So he too left Kanawaka. He went to Canada in June 1673, taking many of his neo-fights with him as far as the Sioux. He died at Quebec the next year, surrounded by his old comrades and friends. The people of Albany and Schenectady at the time of these migrations had too much to do at home to give more than a side-long glance at what was occurring at the neighbouring Indian castle. Otherwise the Dutch and English settlers of the province would probably have shown some inclination to resent on the part of the French their efforts to attract the Mohawks to the vicinity of Montreal, as it was likely to interfere with their influence among the Redmen, and above all with their highly prized rights in the fur trade. Sometime before this the Albanians had succeeded in bringing about a treaty of peace between the Mohigans and the Mohawks. Thereupon these last had begun to indulge very freely in the purchase of liquor at Fort Orange. They even carried kegs of it with them to their fishing villages. This filled the pockets of the Dutch settlers, but it also brought on a severe form of illness among the Mohawks, a quick and fatal fever, which gave much occupation to the black gowns, especially as the services of the medicine men were at this time often rejected. Thus the influence of the missionaries was still further increased. Next there was a disturbance in the government that Dutch, taking the English by surprise, in 1673 regained possession of the province. That very year a large band of the Mohawks left for Canada. To make matters worse for the interests of the Albanians, a vessel with supplies for the Indian trade, which they were for a long while expecting from Holland did not arrive. This caused them to put a higher price on the goods they were accustomed to sell to the Mohawks, many of whom on that account turned to Canada for their purchases. In 1674, when Tekakritha was in her 18th year and when Boniface, after having resigned his charge at Kanawaga, was slowly dying at Quebec, the English came once more into power at Albany and governed the city thenceforth. During these various changes, Tekakritha's uncle kept up his connection with his Dutch neighbors invariably trading at Albany. He was angered almost beyond endurance at the departure of Crin and of Boniface with so many of his townspeople. He joined with those who bitterly accused Bruya, their only remaining black gown, of a plan to break up the nation. Bruya protested that he had had nothing at all to do with the affair. And through the responsibility of the migration, mainly upon their own chief, the great Mohawk, whose example so many had followed, he took occasion at the same time to remind those who remained of their vices, which he said were driving away the noblest of their tribesmen. He succeeded in pacifying them for a time, but soon, Asandase, an aged and important chief at the capital of the Mohawk country, delighted the heart of the missionary and at the same time, re-aroused the hostility of the unbelieving Indians by becoming a Christian. In 1675, Asandase died at Tyanontogen to the great grief of Father Bruya. At about the same time, Father James de Lombaville arrived to take charge of St. Peter's Chapel and the mission of Boniface. It included both the Turtle Castle of Kanawaga on the Kaya Dutta and the adjacent castle of the bears called Andagoran. This castle was no longer on the south side of the river, but since the Trassees expedition had been rebuilt on the North Bank, opposite to its old site. It was to Father de Lombaville that the niece of the Mohawk chief spoke out the words that had long lain nearest to her heart.