more high, attested his military enthusiasm. His wife, Martha, who with him had embraced the Christian religion, was a descendant of the departed royalty of Mohegan. Their attachment for each other was strong, and exemplified on his part, by more of courteousness, on hers by more of affectionate expression, than was common to the reserve of their nation. Their tenement consisted of two rooms, with a shed in the rear, for the deposite of tools, or the rougher household utensils.
It was encompassed with a little garden of herbs and vegetables, and the whole wore an unusual aspect of neatness and comfort. But a mysterious personage had been added to that family, which had not within the memory of the young, comprised but Zachary and Martha. More than two years had elapsed, since a female had been observed to share their shelter, and to sit at their board. The Indians had remarked with surprise that she was of the race of the whites, young, and apparently in ill health, as she never quitted the mansion. They at first had testified some disgust, but as in their visits to the old warrior and his companion, she had always looked mildly on them, and spoken gently, they came to the conclusion, that "the pale squaw was wauregan," or good. Any inquiry respecting the guest, was uniformly answered,—"She is our daughter;" and perceiving that their friends did not wish to be pressed on the subject, they resigned their researches, and considered the stranger as a denizen, and a friend.
