rifle well aimed laid his enemies low: his tomahawk drank of their blood:
and his knife flayed their scalps while yet covered with gore! And why do
we mourn? Though he fell on the field of the slain, with glory he fell,
and his spirit went up to the land of his fathers in war! Then why do we
mourn? With transports of joy they received him, and fed him, and clothed
him, and welcomed him there! Oh friends, he is happy; then dry up your
tears! His spirit has seen our distress, and sent us a helper whom with
pleasure we greet. Dickewamis has come: then let us receive her with joy!
She is handsome and pleasant! Oh! she is our sister, and gladly we welcome
her here. In the place of our brother she stands in our tribe. With care
we will guard her from trouble; and may she be happy till her spirit shall
leave us."

In the course of that ceremony, from mourning they became serene--joy
sparkled in their countenances, and they seemed to rejoice over me as over
a long lost child. I was made welcome amongst them as a sister to the two
Squaws before mentioned, and was called Dickewamis; which being
interpreted, signifies a pretty girl, a handsome girl, or a pleasant, good
thing. That is the name by which I have ever since been called by the
Indians.

I afterwards learned that the ceremony I at that time passed through, was
that of adoption. The two squaws had lost a brother in Washington's war,
sometime in the year before and in consequence of his death went up to
Fort Pitt, on the day on which I arrived there, in order to receive a
prisoner or an enemy's scalp, to supply their loss.

It is a custom of the Indians, when one of their number is slain or taken
prisoner in battle, to give to the nearest relative to the dead or absent,
a prisoner, if they have chanced to take one, and if not, to give him the