A Canoe Voyage to Northward 



ing as If they had never before seen a Boston man. 

 The chief, a remarkably good-looking and intelligent 

 fellow, stepped forward, shook hands with us Boston 

 fashion, and invited us to his house. Some of the curi- 

 ous children crowded in after us and stood around the 

 fire staring like half-frightened wild animals. Two old 

 women drove them out of the house, making hideous 

 gestures, but taking good care not to hurt them. The 

 merry throng poured through the round door, laugh- 

 ing and enjoying the harsh gestures and threats of 

 the women as all a joke, indicating mild parental 

 government in general. Indeed, in all my travels I 

 never saw a child, old or young, receive a blow or even 

 a harsh word. When our cook began to prepare 

 luncheon our host said through his interpreter that he 

 was sorry we could not eat Indian food, as he was 

 anxious to entertain us. We thanked him, of course, 

 and expressed our sense of his kindness. His brother, 

 in the mean time, brought a dozen turnips, which he 

 peeled and sliced and served in a clean dish. These 

 we ate raw as dessert, reminding me of turnip-field 

 feasts when I was a boy in Scotland. Then a box was 

 brought from some comer and opened. It seemed to 

 be full of tallow or butter. A sharp stick was thrust 

 into it, and a lump of something five or six inches long, 

 three or four wide, and an inch thick was dug up, 

 which proved to be a section of the back fat of a deer, 

 preserved in fish oil and seasoned with boiled spruce 

 and other spicy roots. After stripping off the lard-like 

 oil, it was cut into small pieces and passed round. It 

 seemed white and wholesome, but I was unable to 



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