This gentleman, though in other respects of most kindly and liberal
heart, showed the aversion that the white man soon learns to feel for
the Indian on whom he encroaches, the aversion of the injurer for him he
has degraded. After telling the anecdote of his seeing the Indian gazing
at the seat of his former home,
"A thing for human feelings the most trying,"
and which, one would think, would have awakened soft compassion--almost
remorse--in the present owner of that fair hill, which contained for the
exile the bones of his dead, the ashes of his hopes,--he observed, "They
cannot be prevented from straggling back here to their old haunts. I
wish they could. They ought not to permitted to drive away _our_ game."
OUR game--just heavens!
The same gentleman showed, on a slight occasion, the true spirit of the
sportsman, or, perhaps I might say of Man, when engaged in any kind of
chase. Showing us some antlers, he said, "This one belonged to a
majestic creature. But this other was the beauty. I had been lying a
long time at watch, when at last I heard them come crackling along. I
lifted my head cautiously, as they burst through the trees. The first
was a magnificent fellow; but then I saw coming one, the prettiest, the
most graceful I ever beheld--there was something so soft and beseeching
in its look. I chose him at once; took aim, and shot him dead. You see
the antlers are not very large; it was young, but the prettiest
creature!"
In the course of this morning's drive, we visited the gentlemen on their
fishing party.
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