It was Pigeonswing, the Chippewa,
come to pay his annual visit to his friend, the bee-hunter, The
meeting was cordial, and we afterward ascertained that when the old
man departed, he went away loaded with gifts that would render him
comfortable for a twelvemonth.
But Peter, after all, was the great centre of interest with us. We
could admire the General's bee-hives, which were numerous and
ingenious; could admire his still handsome Margery, and all their
blooming descendants; and were glad when we discovered that our old
friend--made so by means of a knowledge of his character, if not by
actual acquaintance--was much improved in mind, was a sincere
Christian, and had been a Senator of his own State; respected and
esteemed by all who knew him. Such a career, however, has nothing
peculiar in America; it is one of every-day occurrence, and shows
the power of man when left free to make his own exertions; while
that of the Scalping Peter indicated the power of God. There he was,
living in the midst of the hated race, loving and beloved; wishing
naught but blessings on all colors alike; looking back upon his
traditions and superstitions with a sort of melancholy interest, as
we all portray in our memories the scenes, legends, and feelings of
an erring childhood.
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