me
average height--five feet nine or ten.

The Indians here, as every where else, are governed by their own laws, and
never have recourse to the whites to settle their disputes. That silent
unbending spirit, which has always characterized the Indian, has alone
kept in check the rapacious disposition of the whites. Several attempts
have been made to induce the Indians to sell their lands, and go beyond
the Mississippi, but hitherto without effect. The Indian replies to the
fine speeches and wily language of the whites, "We hold this small bit of
land, in the vast country of our fathers, by _your_ written talk, and it
is noted on _our_ wampums--the bones of our fathers lie here, and we
cannot forsake them. You tell us our great father (the president) is
powerful, and that his arm is long and strong--we believe it is so; but we
are in hopes that he will not strike his red children for their lands, and
that he will leave us this little piece to live upon--the hatchet is long
buried, let it not be disturbed."

Jackson has lately published a manifesto to all the Indian tribes within
the limits of the United States, commanding them to sell their reserves;
and with few exceptions, has been answered in this manner.

A circumstance occurred a few days previous to my arrival, in the Seneca
reserve, which may serve to illustrate the determined character of the
Indian. There were three brothers (chiefs) dwelling in this reservation.
"Seneca John," the eldest brother, was the principal chief of the tribe,
and a man much esteemed by the white people. He died by poison. The
chiefs in council, having satisfactorily ascertained that his second
brother "Red-hand," and a squaw, had poisoned him, decreed that Red-hand
should be put to death. "Black-snake," the other brother, told the chiefs
that if Red-hand must die, he himself would kill him, in order to prevent
feuds arising in the tribe. Accordingly in the evening he repaired to the
hut of Red-hand, and after having sat in silence for some time, said, "My
best chiefs say, you have killed my father's son,--they say my brother
must die." Red-hand merely replied, "They say so;" and continued to smoke.
After about fifteen minutes further silence, Black-snake said, pointing to
the setting sun, "When he appears above those trees"--moving his arm round
to the opposite direction--"I come to kill you." Red-hand nodded his head
in the short significant style of the Indian, and said "Good." The ne