I have witnessed scenes of conjugal and parental love in
the Indian's wigwam from which I have often, often thought the educated
white man, proud of his superior civilization, might learn an useful
lesson. When he returns from hunting, worn out with fatigue, having
tasted nothing since dawn, his wife, if she is a good wife, will take
off his moccasons and replace them with dry ones, and will prepare his
game for their repast, while his children will climb upon him, and he
will caress them with all the tenderness of a woman; and in the evening
the Indian wigwam is the scene of the purest domestic pleasures. The
father will relate for the amusement of the wife, and for the
instruction of the children, all the events of the day's hunt, while
they will treasure up every word that falls, and thus learn the theory
of the art, whose practice is to be the occupation of their lives.
Mrs. Grant speaks thus of the position of woman amid the Mohawk Indians:
"Lady Mary Montague says, that the court of Vienna was the paradise of
old women, and that there is no other place in the world where a woman
past fifty excites the least interest. Had her travels extended to the
interior of North America, she would have seen another instance of this
inversion of the common mode of thinking. Here a woman never was of
consequence, till she had a son old enough to fight the battles of his
country. From that date she held a superior rank in society; was allowed
to live at ease, and even called to consultations on national affairs.
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