their religion; but when they spoke of their tradition, I felt as a
miser would, had he discovered a mine of gold. I had read the legends of
the Maiden's Rock, and of St. Anthony's Falls. I asked Checkered Cloud
to tell them to me. She did so--and how differently they were told! With
my knowledge of the language, and the aid of my kind and excellent
friend Mr. Prescott, all the dark passages in her narration were made
clear. I thought the Indian tone of feeling was not rightly
appreciated--their customs not clearly stated, perhaps not fairly
estimated. The red man, considered generally as a creature to be carried
about and exhibited for money, was, in very truth, a being immortally
endowed, though under a dispensation obscure to the more highly-favored
white race. As they affirmed a belief in the traditions of their tribe,
with what strength and beauty of diction they clothed their
thoughts--how energetic in gesture! Alas! for the people who had no
higher creed, no surer trust, for this and for another world.

However they may have been improved, no one could have had better
opportunities than I, to acquire all information of interest respecting
these Indians. I lived among them seven years. The chiefs from far and
near were constantly visiting the Fort, and were always at our house.
Not a sentiment is in the Legends that I did not hear from the lips of
the Indian man or woman. They looked on my husband as their friend, and
talked to him freely on all subjects, whether of religion, customs, or
grievances. They were frequently told that I was writing about them,
that every body might know what great warriors they were.

The men were sometimes astonished at the boldness with which I reproved
them, though it raised me much in their estimation. I remember taking
Bad Hail, one of their chiefs, to task, frequently; and on one occasion
he told me, by way of showing his gratitude for the interest I took in