would come in and rest, begging for a drink of raw rum, and giving forth a
strong smell like that of a tame bear as he toasted himself by the fire.
Mr. Stewart was often amused by these fellows, and delighted to talk with
them as far as their knowledge of language and inclination to use it went,
but I never could abide them.

It has become the fashion now to be sentimental about the red man, and
young people who never knew what he really was like find it easy to extol
his virtues, and to create for him a chivalrous character. No doubt there
were some honest creatures among them; even in Sodom and Gomorrah a few
just people were found. It is true that in later life I once had occasion
to depend greatly upon the fidelity of two Oneidas, and they did not fail
me. But as a whole the race was a bad one--full of laziness and lies and
cowardly ferocity. From earliest childhood I saw a good deal of them, and
I know what I say.

Probably there was no place on the whole continent where these Indians
could be better studied than in the Mohawk Valley, near to Sir William's
place. They came to him in great numbers, not only from the Six Nations,
but often from far-distant tribes living beyond the Lakes and north of the
St. Lawrence. They were on their best behavior with him, and no doubt had
an affection for him in their way, but it was because he flattered their
egregious vanity by acting and dressing in Indian fashion, and made it
worth their while by constantly giving them presents and rum. Their liking
seemed always to me to be that of the selfish, treacherous cat, rather
than of the honest dog. Their teeth and claws were always ready for your
flesh, if you did not give them enough, and if they dared to strike. And
they were cowards, too, for all their boasting. Not even Sir William could
get them to face any enemy in the open. Their notion of war was midnight
skulking and shooting from behind safe cover. Even in battle they were