Page:Life and Select Literary Remains of Sam Houston of Texas (1884).djvu/46

 son," said he, "eleven winters have passed since we met. My heart has wondered often where you were, and I heard you were a great chief among your people. Since we parted by the falls as you went up the river, I have heard that a dark cloud had fallen on the white path you were walking, and when it fell in your way you turned your thoughts to my wigwam. I am glad of it; it was done by the Great Spirit. There are many wise men among your people and they have many councillors in your section. We are in trouble, and the Great Spirit has sent you to us to give us counsel and take trouble away from us. I know you will be our friend, for our hearts are near to you, and you will tell our sorrows to the great father, General Jackson. My wigwam is yours; my home is yours; my people are yours; rest with us." Such a greeting took largely from his breast the bitter gloom and sorrow of the past few weeks. He was at home; the wanderer had rest. The chief possessed a large plantation, ten or twelve servants, and not less than five or six hundred head of cattle. Living like a patriarch, simply, abundantly, his wigwam and bountiful board were welcome to visitors, and he always entertained numerous guests with princely hospitality. The venerable chief was six feet high, and although about sixty-five years of age, his eyesight did not fail him, nor did he exhibit the feebleness of age. With courtly carriage he moved among the people of his race and at their council fires presided with the peerless grace of a king upon his throne. With him Sam Houston remained till manifest destiny called him to Texas.

The Indians, oppressed and outraged, had the sympathy of Houston. He knew their wrongs, and his untiring and magnanimous efforts in their behalf form some of the finest pictures of the lights and shadows of forest life. Domiciled among them, he determined to care for their interests and protect them in their rights. He had studied the mysteries of nature among their wigwams, around their council fires, and in the silent virgin forests. By an Indian he had never been betrayed or deceived, and the Indians on this continent never had a better friend than Houston. White men had wronged them, introduced discord at their council fires, robbed them of their forests and game, driven them from the graves of their fathers, and enticed them from their happy hunting grounds by deceitful bribes of trinkets and rifles. White men had introduced among them their vices and loathsome diseases. For their peltry they gave them whiskey and cards; thus by these accursed agencies they had degraded their powers, bowed the strength of their aboriginal nature, and humbled their sublime chivalry. Stern chieftains had become idiotic sots. Tribes had melted away. The remnants of tribes once indomitable, but magnanimous, knew no other sentiment than revenge toward those who