harity and mercy--what are they?" I never heard of them.
An American Indian has kind feelings--he is hospitable and generous--
yet, educated to inflict, and receive, the severest tortures to, and
from, his enemies, he does the first with the most savage and vindictive
feelings, and submits to the latter with indifference and stoicism. He
has, indeed, the kindlier feelings of his nature exercised; still, this
changes him not. He has been from earliest infancy brought up to
cruelty, and he cannot feel that it is wrong. Now, my position was
worse. I had never seen the softer feelings of our nature called into
play; I knew nothing but tyranny and oppression, hatred and vengeance.
It was therefore, not surprising that when my turn came, I did to others
as I had been done by. Jackson had no excuse for his treatment of me,
whereas I had every excuse for retaliation. He did know better, I did
not. I followed the ways of the world in the petty microcosm in which I
had been placed. I knew not of mercy, of forgiveness, charity, or
good-will. I knew not that there was a God; I only knew that might was
right, and the most pleasurable sensation which I felt was that of
anxiety for vengeance, combined with the consciousness of power.

After I had bathed, I again examined the chest and its contents. I
looked at the books without touching them. "I must know what these
mean," thought I, "and I will know." My thirst for knowledge was
certainly most remarkable, in a boy of my age; I presume for the simple
reason, that we want most what we cannot obtain; and Jackson having
invariably refused to enlighten me on any subject, I became most anxious
and impatient to satisfy the longing which increased with my growth.

CHAPTER FIVE.

For three days did Jackson lie on his bed; I supplied him with water,
but he did not eat anything. He groaned heavily at times, and talked
much to himself, and I heard him ask forgiveness of God, and pardon for
his sins. I noted this down for an explanation. On the third day, he
said to me:

"Henniker, I am very ill. I have a fever coming on, from the wound you
have given me. I do not say that I did not deserve it, for I did, and I
know that I have treated you ill; and that you must hate me; but the
question is, do you wish me to die?"

"No," replied I, "I want you to live, and answer all my questions, and
you shall do so."

"I will do so," replied he. "I have done wrong, and I will make