verses.

The Indian Simon calling this forenoon, Rebecca and I went into the
kitchen to see him. He looks fierce and cruel, but he thanked Madain
Saltonstall for her gifts of food and clothing, and, giving her in
return a little basket wrought of curiously stained stuff, he told her
that if there were more like her, his heart would not be so bitter.

I ventured to ask him why he felt thus; whereupon he drew himself up,
and, sweeping about him with his arms, said: "This all Indian land. The
Great Spirit made it for Indians. He made the great river for them, and
birch-trees to make their canoes of. All the fish in the ponds, and all
the pigeons and deer and squirrels he made for Indians. He made land
for white men too; but they left it, and took Indian's land, because it
was better. My father was a chief; he had plenty meat and corn in his
wigwam. But Simon is a dog. When they fight Eastern Indians, I try to
live in peace; but they say, Simon, you rogue, you no go into woods to
hunt; you keep at home. So when squaw like to starve, I shoot one of
their hogs, and then they whip me. Look!" And he lifted the blanket
off from his shoulder, and showed the marks of the whip thereon.

"Well, well, Simon," said Mr. Saltonstall, "you do know that our people
then were much frightened by what the Indians had done in other places,
and they feared you would join them. But it is all over now, and you
have all the woods to yourself to range in; and if you would let alone
strong drink, you would do well."

"Who makes strong drink?" asked the Indian, with an ugly look. "Who
takes the Indian's beaver-skins and corn for it? Tell me that,
Captain."