virtuous liquor that ever was; and therefore one need not fear drinking
too much of it. And you want to know what it is made of? Well; I have
often thought of telling you, Seppy, my boy, when you should come to be
old enough; for I have no other inheritance to leave you, and you are all
of my blood, unless I should happen to have some far-off uncle among the
Cape Indians. But first, you must know how this good drink, and the
faculty of making it, came down to me from the chiefs, and sachems, and
Peow-wows, that were your ancestors and mine, Septimius, and from the old
wizard who was my great-grandfather and yours, and who, they say, added
the fire-water to the other ingredients, and so gave it the only one thing
that it wanted to make it perfect."

And so Aunt Keziah, who had now put herself into a most comfortable and
jolly state by sipping again, and after pressing Septimius to mind his
draught (who declined, on the plea that one dram at a time was enough for
a new beginner, its virtues being so strong, as well as admirable), the
old woman told him a legend strangely wild and uncouth, and mixed up of
savage and civilized life, and of the superstitions of both, but which yet
had a certain analogy, that impressed Septimius much, to the story that
the doctor had told him.

She said that, many ages ago, there had been a wild sachem in the forest, a
king among the Indians, and from whom, the old lady said, with a look of
pride, she and Septimius were lineally descended, and were probably the
very last who inherited one drop of that royal, wise, and warlike blood.
The sachem had lived very long, longer than anybody knew, for the Indians
kept no record, and could only talk of a great number of moons; and they
said he was as old, or older, than the oldest trees; as old as the hills
almost, and could remember back to the days of godlike men, who had arts
then forgotten. He was a wise and good man, and could foretell as far into