y
king, of the Six Nations, and heard the old man tell the
romantic story of his trip to England in the pear 1710,
when Anne was sovereign queen; heard how five sachems at
this time had gone on an embassy for their people and
were right royally entertained in the city of London;
how, as they passed through the streets, the little
children flocked behind, marvelling at their odd appearance;
how at the palace they appeared in garments of black and
scarlet and gold and were gladly received by the queen,
whom they promised to defend against her foes; and how,
after seeing the soldiers march, and after riding in the
queen's barge and enjoying various amusements, they
returned to their own country.

There is some obscurity surrounding the identity of
Thayendanegea's father, but it is generally agreed that
he was a full-blooded Mohawk and a chief of the Wolf
clan. [Footnote: The Mohawks were divided into three
clans--the Tortoise, the Bear, and the Wolf.] By some
writers it is said that he bore the English name of Nickus
Brant. Others say that Thayendanegea's father died while
the son was still an infant and that the mother then
married an Indian known to the English as Brant. By and
by, as Thayendanegea mingled with the English, he acquired
the name of Joseph, and so came down through history as
Joseph Brant; but whether he acquired this name from his
father or from his step-father we cannot tell, and it
does not really matter. We shall know him hereafter by
his English name.

In the traditions of the Mohawk valley it is told how
one day a regimental muster was being held, in Tryon
county, in the colony of New York, at which William
Johnson was present. Among the throng of those who were
out to see the sights was Molly Brant, Joseph's elder
sister, a lively, winsome girl of sixteen years. During
the manoeuvres a field-officer rode by, mounted on a
spirited steed. As he passed, Molly asked if she might
get up behind. The officer, thinking it a bit of banter,
said she might. In an instant she had sprung upon the
crupper. Away went the steed, flying about the field.
Molly clung tight to the officer, her blanket flapping
in the breeze and her dark hair floating wide. Every one
burst into merriment, and no one enjoyed the spectacle
more than Colonel William Johnson himself. A flame of
love for Molly was kindled in his heart, and, being a
widower, he took her home and made her his bride after
the Indian fashion. It would