He loved the poor Indian, and often told his mother
he would always help an Indian while he had the power, for "Oh, how
sorry I am that they are driven away from all these pleasant lands," he
often used to say, "and are melting away, like the snows in April.
Mother, I should think they would hate the sight of a white man." But
the poor Indian is grateful for kindness from a white man, and this day
as Charley came from school, poor Squantum was sitting at the corner of
the house waiting for him, with a fine long smooth bow, and several
arrows. "I give you this," he said, "for you always good to Squantum;"
and without waiting for Charley's thanks, or accepting his earnest
invitation to come in and get some dinner, he strode away. Charley was
wild with delight. He flew to the house with his treasure, but the
dinner-bell rang at that moment. He could not find in his heart to put
it out of his hand, so he took it with him, and seated himself at the
table, and as soon as his hunger was appeased, he nodded to his brother
and hurried to show him his precious gift. The family were quietly
conversing and finishing their dinner, when crash! and smash! went
something! Poor Charley! In the eagerness of his delight, while showing
the beautiful bow to his brother, he had brought the end of it within
the handle of a large water-pitcher, which stood on the side table near
him, and alas, the twirl was too sudden--the poor pitcher came to the
floor with a mighty emphasis.
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