mouth, where this "Auncient League and Confederacy" was
formally renewed and ratified before the court then in session.

Business over, the sachem produced his pipe, filled it, smoked a little,
and passed it to the governor, and in this manner it went round the
assembly, red men and white together each taking a few whiffs, and when
it was empty returning it to Massasoit, who seemed to be custodian of
the tribal stock of tobacco.

Facts are stubborn things and History is sacred, and the scene just
described is in all its details simple matter of History, but is it not
a singular irony of fate that we who spend our lives in a crusade
against strong drink and tobacco must, nevertheless, despair of rivaling
the virtues of these men, who began their solemn covenant with the
savages they had come to Christianize, by giving them gin, and ended it
by accepting from them tobacco?

After the Council came a feast of the simple dainties furnished by the
Pilgrim commissariat, and after that an informal mingling of the two
companies, during which the Indians examined and essayed to sound the
trumpet whose notes had so startled them, although the fife had seemed
to them only the older brother of the whistles they so often made of
willow twigs.

Before Massasoit took leave he requested that Winslow might remain while
Quadequina came to view the wonders of the white man's village, and this
favor being good-naturedly conceded, the prince, as our Englishmen
called him, soon arrived with a fresh troop of followers, all of whom
expected and received both meat, drink, and attention. But as the sun
was setting Winslow appeared on the other side of the brook, and the
savages were hastily dismissed, except Squanto and Samoset, both of
whom insisted upon staying, not only for the night, but declared that
they were ready to leave their own people and remain with the white men,
whose way of life they so much approved, and to whom they could be of
much use in many ways. Squanto in especial pleaded that this place was
his own home, and that he had only left it for the village of the
Nausets whence Hunt had stolen him, because all his people were dead of
the plague, and he was afraid of their ghosts. His wigwam had once stood
as he declared at the head of the King's Highway, and the Town Brook was
his stewpond for the fish on which he mostly fed. Altogether it was
quite evident that Squanto was rather the host than the guest of the
Pilgrims, and