on for the student of Indian folk-lore.

With the coming of the whites the scene changes and the simplicity of
savage life grows more complicated. The change is not entirely for the
better; the hardships of savage life are ameliorated, it is true, but
the Indian learns the vices of civilization.

The native races naturally play a leading part in early Acadian
history, nor do they always appear in a very amiable light. The
element of fierceness and barbarity, which seems inherent in all
savage races, was not wanting in the Indians of the River St. John.
They united with their neighbours in most of the wars waged with the
whites and took their full share in those bloody forays which nearly
annihilated many of the infant settlements of Maine and New Hampshire.
The early annals of Eastern New England tell many a sad story of the
sacrifice of innocent lives, of women and children carried into
captivity and homes made desolate by savage hands.

And yet, it may be that with all his faults the red man has been more
sinned against than sinning.

Many years ago the provincial government sent commissioners to the
Indian village of Medoctec on the St. John river, where the Indians
from time immemorial had built their wigwams and tilled their
cornfields and where their dead for many generations had been laid to
rest in the little graveyard by the river side. The object of the
commissioners was to arrange for the location of white settlers at
Medoctec. The government claimed the right to dispossess the Indians
on the ground that the lands surrounding their village were in the
gift of the crown. The Indians, not unnaturally, were disinclined to
part with the heritage of their forefathers.

On their arrival at the historic camping ground the commissioners made
known the object of their visit. Presently several stalwart captains,
attired in their war paint and feathers and headed by their chief,
appeared on the scene. After mutual salutations the commissioners
asked: "By what right or title do you hold these lands?"

The tall, powerful chief stood erect, and with the air of a plumed
knight, pointing within the walk of the little enclosure beside the
river, replied: "There are the graves of our grandfathers! There are
graves of our fathers! There are the graves of our children!"

To this simple native eloquence the commissioners felt they had no
fitting reply, and for the time being the Maliseets remained
undisturbed.

It in no