Rising up from the obscurity of the past, we find a people, singular in
their habits and character, whose history has been strangely, and in some
respects sadly interwoven with our own. They were the original occupants
of the soil, claiming to have lived here always, and to have grown out of
the soil like the trees of the forest. Scattered over this continent were
various Indian tribes, resembling each other in their general features and
habits, but in some instances exhibiting stronger and more interesting
traits of character than the others. Among these were the Iroquois, and if
Red Jacket was distinguished among his own people, his own people were not
less conspicuous among the North American Indians.
He sprang from the Senecas, and was accustomed to speak of his origin with
feelings of conscious pride. For the Senecas were the most numerous and
powerful of the six nations, of whom they were a part. Such was the title
given to that celebrated Indian confederacy which, for a length of time
unknown to us, inhabited the territory embraced by the State of New York.
Here they lived in a line of settlements extending from one end to the
other, through the middle of the State, and their domain as thus occupied,
they were accustomed to style their _Long House_. It was a shadowy
dome, of generous amplitude, covered by the azure expanse above, garnished
with hills, lakes, and laughing streams, and well stored with provisions,
in the elk and deer that bounded freely through its forest halls, the
moose that was mirrored in its waters, and the trout, those luscious
speckled beauties, that nestled cosily in its crystal chambers.
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