to blood in their belts, and in their quivers the arrow that never missed its aim. Trained to suspicion, by the oft-repeated treachery of the whites, their rigid and care-worn features strangely softened, as they observed the beaming countenance, and simple manners of William Penn; while with a kind of instinct often possessed by the children of the forest, they murmured to each other, "He is a true man."
When he freely gave them the price they demanded for their territory, adding beside, many articles of merchandise which he begged them to accept as gifts, and put into their hands a parchment-deed of the purchase, requesting them to keep it for their posterity, their iron hearts were melted before the spirit of truth and peace, and the impulsive, and impassioned shout burst forth, "We will love Miquon,*[1] and his children, as long as the sun and moon give their light."
Our first view of the Susquehannah convinced us that it deserved the praise so often given it, of being one of the most beautiful rivers, that ever indented earth's surface. The green banks, and fairy islets around which it circles and lingers, seem to embrace, and strive to detain it, with an earnest love. A bridge over its clear waters, among the pleasant scenery of Owega, is the dividing line between the States of New York and Pennsylvania; and after crossing it, we traversed an exceedingly hilly country, clothed with primeval forests.
- ↑ * The name given by the aborigines, to their friend, William Penn.
