to be all well contented as soon as they got their meal. And they remained some time eating it very quietly. We all looked on. > Mark. And was that all that you saw? Tim. No. As soon as the girl had fed the tigers, she went out, and a man came in. The man said if we would wait a few minutes, until the tigers had eaten their meat, the young lady would go into their cages and play with them. Fan. And did she? Yes, she went in by a back door into one of the cages, and then passed from one cage to another along the whole row, by means of doors between. Fan. And did not they bite her? Tim. No. They jumped about and played with her, and tumbled over and over each other before her, just as if they had been so many kittens. Mark. I should have thought they would have torn her to pieces. Tim. Yes, I suppose you would have torn her to pieces if you had been one of the tigers! but they had some gratitude. They remembered that she gave them their meat, and they were thankful to her for it. They would do whatever she directed them. She would make them jump through a hoop that she held in her hand, or lie down and put their heads in her lap, and various other things. Whatever she wished them to do, that they all seemed very willing to do. They were grateful because she fed them. If you had been one of them, you would have torn her to pieces, I suppose, even if she had fed you every day for ten years. Mark. O Timboo! Tim. At least, if you would not have torn her to pieces, you would have refused to obey her. You would have lain down in a corner and gone to sleep, and you would not have done any thing to please her. Mark. Why, Timboo, what makes you think I should have acted so? Tim. Because that is the way you have acted towards your mother. She has been feeding, and taking care of you, and watching over you, and doing every thing to make you happy, now for eight years. Mark. I am nine years old, almost. Tim. Well, for nine years. And now, when an opportunity occurs for you to do some little good in return, such as going to carry a letter, you run off and hide. I don't believe that there is one of those tigers that I saw, that, if he had been in your place, would have acted in such a way. [Mark hangs his head and looks confounded.] Fan. I think you ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mark. Mark. I am ashamed of myself. I did not do right. I did not think. But a Tim. That is just the difference between you and the tigers. They did think. When they saw the girl coming into their dens, all dressed in white, they said to themselves, "Ah! here comes the young lady that has given us so many good suppers. Now we will do whatever she asks of us." boy, when he sees his mother, never says, "Ah! here is the kind mother that has taken care of me, and has done so many things for me all the years of my life, and I will do whatever she asks of me." Instead of that, if he imagines there is any thing that he can do for her, and that she is going to ask him to do it, he runs off and hides. Mark. Well, Timboo. I'll promise that I will never do such a thing again. And now, if you will just tell me what my punishment shall be, I'll take it. Tim. I should think you would feel better for some punishment. Mark. I think I should. Tim. But the best thing for you to do, to make you forget this iniquity, is for you to watch for opportunities every day, for a month to come, to do some kindness or other to your mother. Mark. Well, I will. Tim. There is very little that you can do. The opportunities are very rare, but when they do happen, don't be more ungrateful than a tiger, and go away and hide. And now your box is mended. I am almost afraid to mend a box, or do any thing for you, for fear that you should bite me for it, or do some more ungrateful thing. Mark. O Timboo, you are too bad. And now, Fanny, I think I had better go and tell mother that I am very sorry that I was not willing to carry her letter, and went away and hid; and that I never will do such a thing again. Fan. I would, Mark. I would go and tell mother that, if I were you. It will comfort her. LIX.INDIANS AND WHITES IN NEW ENGLAND. THE Country in which we now live was not always inhabited by white men and women. We are descended from people who came over from Europe in vessels, and took possession of the country, and built houses, and founded towns and villages. They are called our ancestors. They had to do a good deal of work, and suffer many hardships, coming as they did into a rough wilderness, where they were obliged to cut down trees, and clear away the ground, before they could have any gardens and fields to cultivate. Our life is a very easy one, compared to theirs. Virginia and Massachusetts are the two oldest states in the Union; that is, they are the first that were settled by white men from Europe. The first town founded in Virginia was Jamestown, in 1608. Jamestown is now deserted. The first settlement in Massachusetts was made at Plymouth, in 1620. The men who then came to Plymouth are styled the Pilgrim Fathers; they landed on a rock which is called Plymouth Rock. Many persons go down to Plymouth to see this rock, and the places where these good men lived. When our ancestors came to this country, they found it occupied by a race of people of a reddish, or copper-colored complexion, and straight, black hair, called Indians. They lived in huts, called wigwams, dressed in the skins of animals, and supported themselves principally by hunting and fishing. Indians are still found in various parts of the country; and most boys and girls have sometimes seen one or more of them, but they are not so numerous as they once were. The whites, at their first landing, were received by the Indians in a friendly, or, at least, not in an unfriendly way. The wonderful productions of civilization, which they brought with them, filled these simple children of nature with astonishment and admiration; and the strangers were regarded by them as beings of a superior order. But in time these feelings changed. The Indians found out that the whites were but men, after all; and the awe and terror at first inspired by them gradually passed away. They were not always fair and honest in their dealings with the Indians; and as more and more of them came over to the country, the red men began to fear that the strangers would drive them away from the land. The way they came to this conclusion was this. The Indians did not live by sowing seed and reaping harvests, by cutting hay and storing it into barns, and feeding cattle with it through the winter, but by hunting and fishing. The whites were farmers; and they began to cut down the trees, and enclose the land with fences, and make roads and build villages. This drove away the wild animals, and made it hard for the Indians to procure the means of subsistence. When men live by hunting, they require a great deal of land over which to roam and pursue their game. A hundred farmers can be supported upon land which would not furnish more wild animals than are needed for the subsistence of a single hunter. The Indians found this out; and it seemed evident to their minds that they must either drive the white men away, or go away themselves. And they did not want to go away; because they were very fond of the places where they were born, and where their fathers were buried. From these causes there soon sprang up ill blood and angry feeling between the white men and the red men, ending in war and bloodshed. The history of New England, for the first hundred years after its settlement, is full of accounts of fightings with Indians, and of white men, women, and children, who were taken by them and led away into captivity. Every boy and girl in those days grew pale when the name of the Indians was mentioned; and if, in the woods or fields, any strange noise was heard, it was supposed to be the footstep of an approaching savage. Our young readers can hardly imagine how different New England was at that time from the New England of to-day. The settlements, or villages, were few in number, and mostly on the sea coast; and in the interior, in going from one to another, the people were obliged to travel through the woods by a bridle path, or find their way by marks cut upon trees. Many families lived in solitary houses, where their nearest neighbor was many miles distant. Every man went armed; the farmer carried his loaded gun into the fields, and placed it by his bedside before he went to sleep. The reason of this was, that he might be ready to defend himself, at a moment's warning, against the Indians, if they should attack him. No one could tell when the savages would be upon him. They commonly came in the night; and the first signal of their approach would be the frightful yells which they uttered. They would set fire to the houses, and kill or carry away the inhabitants. Many sad stories of this kind were once common in New England, and were told around the winter fires in the evening, till the roaring of the wind down the chimney sounded to the fancy of the listeners like the coming of Indians. In the year 1695, the town of Haverhill, in Massachusetts, was attacked by the savages, some persons were killed, and others carried into captivity. Among the latter were Mrs. Dustin, |