y cast surprised and knowing glances
at each other, all of which we closely observed, and were convinced, that
they were not red men of the forest, but belonged to that race who had so
long looked haughtily down upon the colored people; that the least
exhibition of comfort, or show of refinement astonished them beyond
measure.

In the meantime, my wife had whispered to me that she was sure that the
principal speaker was no other than the aristocratic Mr. G----, of
Canandaigua. I could not believe it; I could not recognize in that
savage costume, one who had been bred in affluence, and "the star" of
genteel society. But my wife soon developed the affair to our mutual
satisfaction: G----, on taking from her a cup of coffee, remarked, "this
looks good; and I have had no good coffee since I left my mother's house."

"Does your mother still reside in C----?" asked Mrs. Steward.

"My mother! my mother! what do you know of my mother!" said he, looking
sharply at her; but observing that they were recognized, they began to
laugh, and we had a hearty congratulation all round; while G----,
starting-up from table, exclaimed,

"Come, boys, off with this disguise; we are among friends now."

Our Indian guests, now appeared in costume more like "Broadway dandies,"
than savages. Dressed in the finest cloth, with gold chains and repeaters;
and all that constituted the toilet of a gentleman. After tea they
requested to dry some costly furs, which they took from their knapsacks
and hung around the fire. The following day they took their leave, with
many apologies and explanations, regarding their appearance and conduct.
They were in the wilderness, they said, trading for very valuable furs;
they had money, jewelry and rich goods, which they had taken that method
to conceal.

During all this time, there had been another visitor in the house, who was
sitting in a corner, absorbed in writing. Our mock Indians had noticed him,
and not knowing who he was, expressed a determination "to quiz that deaf
old devil," after supper. We all seated ourselves around the fire, and
our Canandaigua friends, though no longer savages, had not forgotten the
silent man in the corner; they began to question him, and he aroused
himself for conversation; nor was it long before they forgot their design
to quiz him, and found themselves charmed listeners to the brilliant
conversation, of that world-renowned champion of humanity, Benjamin Lundy,
for he it was.