d which, I am sorry
to say, is getting to be not less so among the whites. No visible effect
was produced on Susquesus, unless a slight shade of contempt was visible
on his dark features. With Jaaf, however, it was very different. Old as
he was, I could see a certain nervous twitching of the lower limbs,
which indicated that the old fellow actually felt some disposition to
dance. It soon passed away, though his grim, hard, wrinkled, dusky, grey
countenance continued to gleam with a sort of dull pleasure for some
time. There was nothing surprising in this, the indifference of the
Indian to melody being almost as marked as the negro's sensitiveness to
its power.

It was not to be expected that men so aged would be disposed to talk
much. The Onondago had ever been a silent man; dignity and gravity of
character uniting with prudence to render him so. But Jaaf was
constitutionally garrulous, though length of days had necessarily much
diminished the propensity. At that moment a fit of thoughtful and
melancholy silence came over my uncle, too, and all four of us continued
brooding on our own reflections for two or three minutes after I had
ceased to play. Presently the even, smooth approach of carriage-wheels
was heard, and a light, summer vehicle that was an old acquaintance,
came whirling round the stable, and drew up within ten feet of the spot
where we were all seated.

My heart was in my mouth, at this unexpected interruption, and I could
perceive that my uncle was scarcely less affected. Amid the flowing and
pretty drapery of summer shawls, and the other ornaments of the female
toilet, were four youthful and sunny faces, and one venerable with
years. In a word, my grandmother, my sister, and my uncle's two other
wards, and Mary Warren, were in the carriage; yes, the pretty, gentle,
timid, yet spirited and intelligent daughter of the rector was of the
party, and seemingly quite at home and at her ease, as one among
friends. She was the first to speak even, though it was in a low, quiet
voice, addressed to my sister, and in words that appeared extorted by
surprise.

"There are the very two pedlars of whom I told you, Martha," she said,
"and now you may hear the flute well played."

"I doubt if he can play better than Hugh," was my dear sister's answer.
"But we'll have some of his music, if it be only to remind us of him who
is so far away."

"The music we can and will have, my child," cried my grandmother,
cheerfull