His young
wife stood by, with her child in her arms, commanding her emotions, as
he desired, for, no doubt, it seemed to her also, a sacred duty.
But the finest story of all is that of Petalesharro, in whose tribe at
the time, and not many years since, the custom of offering human
sacrifices still subsisted. The fire was kindled, the victim, a young
female captive, bound to the stake, the tribe assembled round. The young
brave darted through them, snatched the girl from her peril, placed her
upon his horse, and both had vanished before the astonished spectators
had thought to interpose.
He placed the girl in her distant home, and then returned. Such is the
might of right, when joined with courage, that none ventured a word of
resentment or question. His father, struck by truth, endeavored, and
with success, to abolish the barbarous custom in the tribe. On a later
occasion, Petalesharro again offered his life, if required, but it was
not.
This young warrior visiting Washington, a medal was presented him in
honor of these acts. His reply deserves sculpture: "When I did it, I
knew not that it was good. I did it in ignorance. This medal makes me
know that it was good."
The recorder, through his playful expressions of horror at a declaration
so surprising to the civilized Good, shows himself sensible to the grand
simplicity of heroic impulse it denotes. Were we, too, so good, as to
need a medal to show us that we are!
The half-breed and half-civilized chiefs, however handsome, look vulgar
beside the pure blood.
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