HANNAH DUSTIN

                        Experience teaches us
That resolution’s a sole help at need ;
And this, my lord, our honor teacheth us,
That we be bold in every enterprise.
                                                            Shakespeare

On the fifteenth of March, 1697, a band of Indian prowlers broke into the house of Mr. Dustin, of Haverhill, Massachusetts, and captured his wife, her nurse,* and a babe about one week old. The last was killed before leaving the town. The other two were marched through the wilderness for several days till they came to a halt on an island in the Merrimac river about six miles above Concord, New Hampshire. There they were placed in a wigwam occupied by two men, three women, seven children of theirs, and an English boy who had been captured about a year previous at Worcester, Massachusetts. The captives remained there till the thirtieth of that month before they planned escape. On that day the boy was requested by Mrs. Dustin to ask his master where to strike “to kill instantly;” and the savage was simple enough to tell, and also instructed him in the art of scalping. “At night,” to use the concise language of Mr. Bancroft, “while the household slumbers, the captives, each with a tomahawk, strike vigorously, and fleetly, and with division of labor, -and of the twelve sleepers, ten lie dead; of one squaw the wound was not mortal; one child was spared from design. The love of glory next asserted its power; and the gun and tomahawk of the murderer of her infant, and a bag heaped full of scalps were choicely kept as trophies of the heroine. -The streams are the guides which God has set for the stranger in the wilderness: in a bark canoe, the three descend the Merrimac to the English settlements, astonishing their friends by their escape, and filling the land with wonder at their successful daring.”

Mrs. Dustin had the happiness of meeting her husband and seven children, who had escaped from the house before the savages entered, and the honor of a very handsome present from Colonel Nicholson, governor of Maryland, as a reward for her heroism.*

* Eleven years after the capture of Mrs. Dustin, a party of French and Indians from Canada made an attack upon the inhabitants of Haverhill, and killed and captured about forty persons. Several women exhibited on the occasion a remarkable degree of sagacity, courage and presence of mind. We condense from Mirick’s History of Haverhill.

   Ann Whittaker escaped the tomahawk by hiding in an apple chest under the stairs, – A negro servant, named Hagar, covered a couple of children with tubs in the cellar and then concealed herself behind some meat barrels. The Indians trod on a foot of one of the children and took meat from the barrel behind which Hagar had hidden, without discovering any of them.-The wife of Thomas Hartshorn, took all her children except the babe – which she was afraid would cry -through a trap-door into the cellar. The enemy entered and plundered the house, but did not find the way into the cellar. They took the infant from its bed in the garret and threw it out of the window. Strange to say, though stunned, it lived and grew to rugged manhood. – The wife of Captain Simon Wainwright, after the enemy had killed her husband, let them into the house and treated them kindly. They at length demanded money, when she went out, as she pretended, to get it. They soon ascertained – though too late to find. her – that she had fled with all her children but one, who was taken captive.

______

Excerpted from Noble Deeds of American Women
(Patriotic Series for Boys and Girls)
Edited by J. Clement
——
With an Introduction by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney
Illustrated
BOSTON: Lee and Shepard, Publishers
Entered by Act of Congress, in the year of 1851,
by E. H. Derby and Co., in the Clerk’s Office of the Northern District of New York
______

The Woman in the Basket

In Zechariah chapter 5 we see our prophet friend having an absolutely bizarre vision, one I’ve heard more than one person attempt to explain – never in a way that made sense to me. But I may finally understand it.

Then the angel who was talking with me came forward and said, “Look up and see what’s coming.”
“What is it?” I asked.
He replied, “It is a basket for measuring grain, and it’s filled with the sins of everyone throughout the land.”
Then the heavy lead cover was lifted off the basket, and there was a woman sitting inside it.
The angel said, “The woman’s name is Wickedness,” and he pushed her back into the basket and closed the heavy lid again.
Then I looked up and saw two women flying toward us, gliding on the wind. They had wings like a stork, and they picked up the basket and flew into the sky.
“Where are they taking the basket?” I asked the angel.
He replied, “To the land of Babylonia, where they will build a temple for the basket. And when the temple is ready, they will set the basket there on its pedestal.”

Zechariah 5:5-11 NLT

According to the vision…

  • The basket is filled with the sins of everyone throughout the land.
  • The woman’s name is Wickedness.
  • The basket will be taken to Babylon.
  • A temple will be built for the basket.
  • The basket will be placed on a pedestal in the temple.

As a reminder, Old Testament prophesies are sometimes literal and sometimes figurative. They also can have multiple fulfillments. With that in mind…

Working our way backwards through this list, it becomes clear that the basket or, more accurately, what it contains, will be worshipped. This is, after all, what happens in temples. Just as God was worshipped in the Temple built for Him, this basket’s contents will be worshipped in the temple built for it.

I’m thinking a figurative temple.

The temple will be built in Babylon, which in the Bible represents the world’s system.

So, if I read this prophecy correctly, it’s telling us that the world’s system will worship wickedness and sin.

Which it takes little discernment to see pretty much sums up the condition of the world right now. Today’s society condones just about everything God condemns. In fact, it doesn’t just condone sin; it exalts sin, pushing it to the forefront in every arena possible, sadly even in the church. The world system we live in, indeed, worships sin and wickedness.

As I see it, this is just one more sign of how close we are to The End.

Celebrating Jesus and looking for His return!
Tammy C

Tiny House Part 13: The Kitchen

Yes, I once more fell behind on posting about my tiny house. Frankly, I knew what was coming and that it would take a lot of time to prep these next few posts. Ashamed of my procrastination? Undeniably. So, are you ready to head to the kitchen?

This part of the series will definitely be multiple posts, because there are tons of details in this kitchen.

The photo you see above is a close-up from a picture I posted earlier. I can’t remember if I mentioned it before, but I had to convince them that I really did want white walls. This picture shows why. I knew I would be bringing in a lot of color in my art, storage, and accessories! Much of it, especially the art, came with me in the move and I can’t tell you much about it, but many items were bought specifically for this apartment, and I will happily share those details.

Another thing that took a little convincing, though not too much, was the open shelving. I specifically wanted everything visible, looked forward to using my necessities to decorate and not be looking at cabinet doors all the time. Playing off the teak countertop, which I’ll share in a better picture later, they brought in an assortment of woods for me and sealed them for kitchen use. I love it!

One comment I’ve received from readers and visitors is that I have very little counter space. At first glance, this is true, but it’s actually not. My washer and dryer more than make up for the shortage of official counter space. I obviously don’t put anything super heavy on them, but I really don’t deal with super heavy anyway. I have never felt confined in my tiny kitchen.

The rectangular frames you see to the right of the mirror? Yes, this is an old photo, but yes, they are still empty, waiting on me. I have everything I need to teach myself watercolor, but I’ve not done it. It seems like every time I even think about pulling the supplies out I find something else to do instead. Still, learning watercolor is one of my goals for 2024 and those frames are going to hang there, staring at me, until I follow through.

One thing I’ll mention while I’m here, since this is the only photo it appears in, is the towel that’s hanging from the top drawer. It was the result of a lot of searching! Things were different when I had a dishwasher; I could grit my teeth and put up with my kitchen towels that weren’t absorbent and didn’t dry anything. I mean, seriously. Why have a kitchen towel that won’t dry dishes enough that you can put them away?!

So, I headed to Amazon and began my search. My requirements were pretty detailed. First, I wanted a solid color, preferably orange. That ruled out a lot; no surprise there. This towel comes in 26 colors, one of which was exactly what I wanted. I knew I wanted cotton. Also, the reviews had to agree that the thing really would dry well. If a towel wasn’t consistently praised for this one characteristic, I kept scrolling. Too, I wanted something small enough to be practical (this one is 12×12) and was really hoping for a loop I could use to hang it. I didn’t want to have to install a towel bar, but I wanted a towel to always be at hand.

So here you have the Homaxy 100% Cotton Waffle Weave Kitchen Dish Cloths, Ultra Soft Absorbent Quick Drying Dish Towels, 12×12 Inches, 6-Pack, Orange. (Don’t you love the highly detailed descriptions on Amazon? LOL!) The 6-pack sells for around $15. You can also get 4, 8, and 12-packs.

See you next time!

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

HUMANE SPIRIT OF A FOREST MAID.

                        “Beneath the gloom
Of overshadowing forests, sweetly springs
The unexpected flower.”

Some of the noblest attributes of humanity are sometimes exhibited by the wild children of the forest. These attributes, in such cases, seem, like trees in the remotest wilderness, to have gained, by their spontaneous growth, surprising height, symmetry and beauty.

A lovelier character than Pocahontas, daughter of Powhatan, king of the country where the first white settlement in Virginia was made, is rarely found among any people. She was lovely in the broadest as well as noblest sense of that word – lovely in features, lovely in disposition, lovely in the highest adornments of’ Christian grace. She was, in 1607, “a girl of ten or twelve years of age, who, not only for feature, countenance and expression, much exceeded any of the rest of her people, but for wit and spirit was the only nonpareil of the country.” Such was Pocahontas, as described by the first white man, probably, who ever saw her, and in whose behalf, at the above date, she displayed the tenderness and true grandeur of her nature.

The colonists, writes Mr. Hildreth, in his new History of the United States, “were specially instructed to seek for a passage to the South Sea; and it was thought that possibly the Chickahoming might lead thither. Having ascended as high as he could in his barge, Captain Smith followed up the stream in a canoe, with two colonists and two Indians for companions; and when the canoe would float no longer, he left the two colonists to guard it, and struck inland with a single Indian as a guide. Set upon unexpectedly by a large party of natives, who had already surprised and killed the two men left to guard the canoe, Smith bound his Indian guide to his arm as a buckler, and made a vigorous defence, killing three of the assailants; but as he retreated backward, he presently sank into a miry swamp, and was taken prisoner. His captors would have killed him, but he amused them with a pocket compass. Carried in a sort of triumph through several villages, he was taken before Powhatan, the same chief whom he had visited in company with Newport. An attempt was made to engage his services- at least so Smith understood it- in surprising the colonists at Jamestown. Having failed in this, after much consultation, it was resolved to put him to death. He was dragged to the ground and his head placed upon a stone; Powhatan raised a club to dash out his brains”- and now view the highly dramatic scene which follows, as pictured by Mrs. Sigourney in a few lines of masterly coloring:

   The sentenced captive see -his brow how white!
Stretched on the turf, his manly form lies low,
The war club poises for its fatal blow,
   The death-mist swims before his darkened sight;
Forth springs the child, in tearful pity bold,
Her head on his reclines, her arms his neck enfold,

“The child! what madness fires her? Hence! Depart!
   Fly, daughter, fly! before the death-stroke rings;
Divide her, warriors! from that English heart.”
   In vain, for with convulsive grasp she clings:
She claims a pardon from her frowning sire;
Her pleading tones subdue his gathered ire,
   And so, uplifting high his feathery dart,
That doting father gave the child her will,
And bade the victim live and be his servant still.

After Smith had been an inmate of Powhatan’s wigwam awhile, he was permitted to leave the Indians. Sometime after this the savages, becoming alarmed by witnessing Smith’s wonderful feats, “laid a plan to get him into their power under the pretence of wishing an interview with him in their territory. But Pocahontas, knowing the desire of the warriors, left the wigwam after her father had gone to sleep, and ran more than nine miles through the woods to inform her friend Captain Smith of the danger that awaited him, either by stratagem or attack.”

Subsequently the colony at Jamestown was threatened with famine, when, accompanied by a few companions, she was accustomed to go to the fort every day or two with baskets of corn, and thus her

            –“generous hand vouchsafed its tireless aid
            To guard a nation’s germ.”

At the age of seventeen or eighteen, Pocahontas married a pious young English officer, named Thomas Rolfe, and went with him to England, where she was baptized and called Rebecca, and where she soon died. Well may it be said of her, in the language of the poet, slightly altered,

            It is not meet such names should moulder in the grave.

______

Excerpted from Noble Deeds of American Women
(Patriotic Series for Boys and Girls)
Edited by J. Clement
——
With an Introduction by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney
Illustrated
BOSTON: Lee and Shepard, Publishers
Entered by Act of Congress, in the year of 1851,
by E. H. Derby and Co., in the Clerk’s Office of the Northern District of New York
______

Hitting the Hard Stuff

“Tammy, what are you doing? You know this is a topic best avoided.”

Perhaps, but drinking alcohol is a subject that comes up often among Christians, one I occasionally get asked about, which means fellow believers are honestly wondering where I stand. I’m not afraid to answer the question.

The Bible contains numerous, obvious warnings against drinking to excess, so let’s take that off the table entirely. Yes, I firmly believe that drinking to excess is wrong on many levels and is, indeed, sin. Having lived with alcoholics (and an abusive alcoholic at that), I had strong feelings on this topic long before I found confirmation in the Bible.

So today we’re talking about casual drinking, occasional drinking, social drinking.

And my simple answer is this: I’m not your Holy Ghost. If you are honestly and sincerely seeking God and a deeper relationship with Him, if you are asking the Holy Spirit for guidance with a heart that beats to please your Lord, you will get your answer straight from the Source. This is true about anything; you can take all things to God and get answers from Him. 

The fact is that God meets each of us as individuals, giving us many instructions about things to do and not to do that may or may not be clearly indicated in the Bible. Sometimes there is a concrete reason, like God telling me to back off the sodas because the addiction was harming my body. Yes, I said addiction, and giving in to addictions is a huge mistake: If you obey an addiction over God’s instruction, you are making the addiction an idol. Idol worship is sin.

Sometimes God instructs us to do, or not do, things simply so that we can practice obedience. I have literally had a conversation with God in which He asked me, “Will you give up ____?” It took me a minute, but I said, “Yes, if You want me to I will.” He then told me I didn’t need to, that He was asking to find out where my heart really was, and so that I could see where my heart really was.

Again, anything that is more important to us than God is an idol, and where there are idols there is sin.

I know, a lot of words for a simple answer.

So, here’s my personal response.

Alcohol has never been a real draw for me, even on those rare occasions when I did drink. However, I’ve sought God on the topic a lot since I actively started serving Him, because I know it is a major issue for many others. I have God-loving Christian friends who think drinking is of the devil, and equally God-loving Christian friends who see no problem with it at all as long as it’s not to excess, as long as they’re not giving control over to the alcohol. (Yes, that’s a fine line to draw since you often do not recognize the point at which you lose control.)

For years, I’ve considered it best not to drink simply because I don’t want to set an example that causes anyone else to stumble. Jesus and Paul were both pretty firm on this point, a fact that was enough for me to choose not to drink just in case there was anyone watching who would be hurt. Then I saw something else several years ago while reading the book of Leviticus. In Leviticus 10:9-10, God commanded Aaron to ensure that none of the priests drank wine or strong drink when going into the Tabernacle.

There was no place for wine or strong drink, or one who was being influenced by such things, in the Tabernacle. Yes, that’s Old Testament; I get it. But here’s this.

“Don’t you realize that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives in you and was given to you by God? You do not belong to yourself, for God bought you with a high price. So you must honor God with your body.”

1 Corinthians 6:19-20 NLT – NOTE: New Testament

There it is: The connection. Tabernacle…temple…essentially the same thing.

You can look at this two ways. The first way I saw it was that I am essentially a priest who, 24/7, ministers in the temple that is my body. In that case, I have no business bringing wine or strong drink into the temple. Then there is the fact that my body IS the temple and, whether or not you think of me as a priest ministering in the temple, I have no business bringing alcohol inside.

Again, to make myself abundantly clear, I am not your Holy Ghost. I am merely sharing what God has shown me. I’m not judging anyone. Shoot, when I was visiting a friend’s church and accidently took communion from the cup that held real wine, I didn’t feel like I had done wrong and needed to repent. (It felt more like making a sacrifice, actually. To my tastebuds there is no good wine.)

 And yes, the tabernacle/temple analogy holds true in a lot of ways. I have great responsibility to take care of my body specifically because it is the temple of the Holy Ghost. That’s why I hardly drink any sodas anymore and have cut way back on sugar yet again.

“Yet again?” you ask? Right: Addiction is real. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve given up sodas, how many times I’ve cut back on sugar. I have to regulate my intake carefully because it’s far too easy to slip right back into that addiction. This is actually why I recently wrote my post entitled “Thankful for the Hard Things.” I am genuinely thankful that now, when those temptations arise, I can remind myself that I’ve already had a TIA and don’t want to do anything that might lead to another. I’ve had my wake up call. I will heed it.

So there it is. I’ve dared tackle one of the most controversial issues in Christianity. Feel free to disagree with me; many do.

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

The Gift I Didn’t Know I Wanted

Oh. My. Word.

Ok, hear me out. This scalp massager is one of those things you look at and think “gag gift.” No. Not at all.

Have you ever, maybe as a child, has someone gently massage your scalp with their fingernails?

Yeah. This! This sci-fi looking thing keeps calling for my hand to pick it up and use it. It’s AMAZING, and I’m kicking myself for never having tried one before. My sister and I were both blown away by my nephew’s thought in buying us these.

Order yourself one. Better yet, order the pack of two I’m going to link to. Trust me; you will not regret it!

https://amzn.to/3RysK2J

Remember, I’m an Amazon Associate and can earn tiny bits of money from qualifying purchases. It’s a fact, though, that I will only recommend things here that I would recommend in person!

Merry Christmas!

Celebrating Jesus!

Tammy C

But This Will Never Change

When we were young, my sister and my favorite Christmas tradition was loading up on Christmas morning and heading to our grandparents’ house where the whole clan had gathered. But my grandparents eventually had to stop hosting, and that tradition changed.

As young kids, Christmas was a magical time and the gifts were great. Then came the year when, as a single mom, Mother could only give us each a skirt and a piece of candy. Through the decades, changing financial situations have had major effects on my Christmases.

Christmas, like everything else, is subject to change. We have to be able to shift and flex whether we like it or not, whether our kids like it or not. Even we change, in the ways we perceive the holiday and interact with those we spend time with, even just those who cross our paths.

But one thing remains constant; one thing will never change.

No matter what we think about Him, how we relate to Him or refuse to relate to Him, Jesus will always be there for us. We celebrate His birthday at Christmas for that reason.

And as long as we keep our focus on Him and the real reason for the season, we can handle all of those other changes. If we don’t get a single gift from man, we who have accepted Jesus as Savior and Lord have already received the greatest gift of all – forever with Him.

Celebrating Jesus!

Tammy C

He Let Everyone Hear

In Luke 23:34 NLT, you read, “Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing.‘“ This line always makes me pause, because it shows His tremendous love for the people, His mercy, and His grace, but there is another verse in this chapter that also makes me sit up and take notice.

Think about every crucifixion scene you’ve ever watched. Almost always, you hear Jesus gasp out words just before he dies.

But that’s not what happened.

“Then Jesus shouted, ‘Father, I entrust my spirit into your hands!’ And with those words he breathed his last.”
‭‭Luke‬ ‭23:46‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Did you see it?

Jesus SHOUTED.

At the end, He left no room for doubt. With a voice that could be heard by everyone present, this man for whom shouting should have been a physical impossibility (google crucifixion) let everyone know that God was His father and that He was still the one in control. By all rights, it should have taken several more hours for Him to die, but He very publicly died when HE chose.

Everyone present had to recognize the significance, so it’s really no surprise that the soldier made his declaration in verse 47.

They were all there either to mourn or to mock and jeer. They were also there, whether they liked it or not, to hear.

Celebrating Jesus!

Tammy C

Merry Christmas to Me!

Here I sit, thinking about Christmas, and my heart is so full it could almost be Thanksgiving. I decided to come share, and find myself oddly short on words. So this may be a “scribble scrabble letter,” as Jo March would say. (I don’t have a copy of Little Women, so feel free to correct the quote in the comments.)

Although Jack passed on October 1st last year, it feels like it’s Christmas that marks the true end of my first year of freedom. I was still finding my way in those first few months, navigating “new widowhood” waters. So much has changed.

Things are still changing, as I’m recognizing ingrained “training” and countering it. Like the day, only a few months ago, when I realized I was rushing through a store and stopped in the middle of an aisle, frozen by the realization that I was still acting as if he were at home growing progressively angrier at my absence. There was NO ONE, other than me, who cared where I was or what I was doing. Yes, I intentionally slowed down and chose to enjoy the process.

So, side note: When you’re coming out of an abusive relationship, realize that it will take time to deal with all your baggage. That was a heavy backpack I’d not even realized I was wearing.

So many wonderful things have happened in the past year. Relationships that had been strained (because of him) have been growing increasingly stronger. My emotional health has improved unimaginably. And my physical health, TIA aside, has been great too.

Where my body is concerned, I’ve had more money and mental real estate to invest in taking care of me. I’d tried before, because I knew I had to stay healthy to keep him healthy, but his care had always been the priority. Now I am at a place where I know what works for me and I’m able to plan to maintain. For instance, knowing I’ll go months without widows’ benefits, I’ve been buying my key supplements in advance. Part of them anyway. I could never have done that before.

The biggest change is peace. I always tried to stay focused on God, and had His gift of peace, but the peace that comes from no constant strife and no 24/7 television? That is something I still delight over. My home is so quiet most of the time that…it’s bliss.

And it’s true. I really don’t own a television and it’s by choice. Many people think I’m nuts, but on those rare occasions when I’m in the mood, like during this season of The Voice, I watch with my sister on the couch that’s only steps away. (And yes, I’m glad Huntley won, though I felt the last four all could have.)

I’ve been asked if I plan to stay in my tiny home until Jesus comes back. Yes, unless God has a different plan, I do. I am happier here than I have been anywhere. I hate housework, and this requires almost none. I love silence and this gives me much. I have family right here, and love the casual time I spend with them.

Yeah, that’s a big part of why I’m so thankful this Christmas season. Casual fellowship with family is a beautiful thing. It doesn’t have to be planned; it just happens. Even my grandson pops in on occasion, sometimes with his fiancé, and that sort of thing never would have happened before. Frankly, it would have made me uncomfortable on many levels back when Jack ruled the house.

As I celebrate Jesus this season and look to 2024 with anticipation, my heart is full. There were so many years when… Nah, not even going to think about those years. They’re over. God has brought me into a new season.

“Look, the winter is past, and the rains are over and gone. The flowers are springing up, the season of singing birds has come, and the cooing of turtledoves fills the air.”
‭‭Song of Songs‬ ‭2:11-12‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Celebrating Jesus!

Tammy C

THE CACIQUE’S NOBLE DAUGHTER.

I think of thee, sweet lady, as of one
Too pure to mix with others, like some star,
Shining in pensive beauty all alone,
Kindred with those around, yet brighter far.
                                                                        Mrs. Welby.

In his history of the Conquest of Florida, Mr. Theodore Irving repeats, very interestingly, the story of Juan Ortiz who, with three other Spaniards, fell into the hands of the Indians by stratagem. The four captives were taken to the village of Hirrihigua, the cacique, who ordered them to be executed on a day of religious festival. Three were shot with arrows; and then “Juan Ortiz, a youth, scarce eighteen years of age, of a noble family of Seville, was the fourth victim. As they were leading him forth, his extreme youth touched with compassion the hearts of the wife and daughters of the cacique, who interceded in his favor.

“The cacique listened to their importunities, and granted for the present the life of Ortiz; – but a wretched life did he lead. From morning until evening he was employed in bringing wood and water and was allowed but little sleep and scanty food. Not a day passed that he was not beaten. On festivals he was an object of barbarous amusement to the cacique, who would oblige him to run, from sunrise until sunset, in the public square of the village, where his companions had met their untimely end, Indians being stationed with bows and arrows, to shoot him, should he halt one moment. When the day was spent, the unfortunate youth lay stretched on the hard floor of the hut, more dead than alive. At such times the wife and daughters of the cacique would come to him privately with food and clothing, and by their kind treatment his life was preserved.

” At length the cacique, determining to put an end to his victim’s existence, ordered that he should be bound down upon a wooden frame, in the form of a huge gridiron, placed in the public square, over a bed of live coals, and roasted alive.

“The cries and shrieks of the poor youth reached his female protectors, and their entreaties were once more successful with the cacique. They unbound Ortiz, dragged him from the fire, and took him to their dwelling, where they bathed him with the juice of herbs, and tended him with assiduous care. After many days he recovered from his wounds, though marked with many a scar.

“His employment was now to guard the cemetery of the village. This was in a lonely field in the bosom of a forest. The bodies of the dead were deposited in wooden boxes, covered with boards, without any fastening except a stone or a log of wood laid upon the top; so that the bodies were often carried away by wild beasts.

“In this cemetery was Ortiz stationed, with a bow and arrows, to watch day and night, and was told that should a single body be carried away, he would be burnt alive. He returned thanks to God for having freed him from the dreaded presence of the cacique. hoping to lead a better life with the dead than he had done with the living.

“While watching thus one long wearisome night, sleep overpowered him towards morning. He was awakened by the falling lid of one of the chests, and running to it, found it empty. It had contained the body of an infant recently deceased, the child of an Indian of great note.

“Ortiz doubted not some animal had dragged it away, and immediately set out in pursuit. After wandering for some time, he heard, at a short distance within the woods, a noise like that of a dog gnawing bones. Warily drawing near to the spot, he dimly perceived an animal among the bushes, and invoking succor from on high, let fly an arrow at it. The thick and tangled underwood prevented his seeing the effect of his shot, but as the animal did not stir, he flattered himself that it had been fatal: with this hope he waited until the day dawned, when he beheld his victim, a huge animal of the panther kind, lying dead, the arrow having passed through his entrails and cleft his heart.

“Gathering together the mangled remains of the infant, and replacing them in the coffin, Ortiz dragged his victim in triumph to the village, with the arrow still in his body. The exploit gained him credit with the old hunters, and for some time softened even the ferocity of the cacique. The resentment of the latter, however, from the wrongs he had suffered from white men, was too bitter to be appeased. Some time after, his eldest daughter came to Ortiz, and warned him that her father had determined to sacrifice him at the next festival, which was just at hand, and that the influence of her mother, her sisters, and herself would no longer avail him. She wished him, therefore, to take refuge with a neighboring cacique named Mucozo, who loved her and sought her in marriage, and who, for her sake, would befriend him. ‘This very night at midnight.’ said the kind-hearted maiden, ‘at the northern extremity of the village you will find a trusty friend who will guide you to a bridge, about two leagues hence; on arriving there, you must send him back, that he may reach home before the morning dawn, to avoid suspicion -for well he knows that this bold act, in daring to assist you, may bring down destruction upon us both. Six leagues further on, you will come to the village of Mucozo -tell him I have sent you, and expect him to befriend you in your extremity -I know he will do it-go, and may your God protect you!’ Ortiz threw himself at the feet of his generous protectress, and poured out his acknowledgments for the kindness she had always shown him. The Indian guide was at the place appointed, and they left the village without alarming the warlike savages. When they came to the bridge, Ortiz sent back the guide, in obedience to the injunction of his mistress, and, continuing his flight, found himself, by break of day, on the banks of a small stream near the village of Mucozo.

“Looking cautiously around, he espied two Indians fishing. As he was unacquainted with their language, and could not explain the cause of his coming, he was in dread lest they should take him for an enemy and kill him. He, therefore, ran to the place where they had deposited their weapons and seized upon them. The savages fled to the village without heeding his assurances of friendly intention. The inhabitants sallied out with bows and arrows, as though they would attack him. Ortiz fixed an arrow in his bow, but cried out at the same moment, that he came not as an enemy but as an ambassador from a female cacique to their chief. Fortunately one present understood him, and interpreted his words. On this the Indians unbent their bows, and returning with him to their village, presented him to Mucozo. The latter, a youthful chieftain, of a graceful form and handsome countenance, received Ortiz kindly for the sake of her who had sent him; but, on further acquaintance, became attached to him for his own merits, treating him with the affection of a brother.”

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Excerpted from Noble Deeds of American Women
(Patriotic Series for Boys and Girls)
Edited by J. Clement
——
With an Introduction by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney
Illustrated
BOSTON: Lee and Shepard, Publishers
Entered by Act of Congress, in the year of 1851,
by E. H. Derby and Co., in the Clerk’s Office of the Northern District of New York
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