"Being introduced to the stranger, he soon measured his intellectual
capacity, and made no effort to suppress his disappointment, which was
indeed sufficiently disclosed in his features. After listening, for a few
moments to the chatter of the gentleman, Red Jacket with a look of mingled
chagrin and contempt, approached close to him and exclaimed, 'cha, cha,
cha,' as rapidly as utterance would allow. Then drawing himself to his
full height, he turned proudly upon his heel, and walked away in the
direction of his own domicil, _as straight as an Indian_, nor deigned to
look behind while in sight of the tavern. The gentleman with more money
than brains, was for once lost in astonishment, and longer motionless and
silent than he had ever been before." [Footnote: Col. Stone.]
He held the mere sensualist in equal contempt. "Many years ago, before the
Indian towns were broken up along the valley of the Genesee, a clan of the
Senecas resided at Canawangus, in the vicinity of the present town of
Avon. The chief of the clan was a good, easy man, named Hot Bread. He was
a hereditary sachem, not having risen by merit, was weak and inefficient,
and of gluttonous habits. On a certain occasion, when Mr. George Hosmer
was accompanying Red Jacket to an Indian council, in the course of general
conversation he inquired the chief's opinion of Hot Bread. 'Waugh!'
exclaimed Red Jacket: 'He has a little place at Canawangus, big enough for
him. _Big man here_,' laying his left hand on his abdomen, '_But very
small here_,' bringing the palm of his right hand _with significant_
emphasis to his forehead.
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