ble to gather concerning her, as a pleasing and
unrestrained Indian girl, probably not different from her savage sisters
in her habits, but bright and gentle; struck with admiration at the
appearance of the white men, and easily moved to pity them, and so
inclined to a growing and lasting friendship for them; tractable and apt
to learn refinements; accepting the new religion through love for those
who taught it, and finally becoming in her maturity a well-balanced,
sensible, dignified Christian woman.

According to the long-accepted story of Pocahontas, she did something
more than interfere to save from barbarous torture and death a stranger
and a captive, who had forfeited his life by shooting those who
opposed his invasion. In all times, among the most savage tribes and in
civilized society, women have been moved to heavenly pity by the sight
of a prisoner, and risked life to save him--the impulse was as natural
to a Highland lass as to an African maid. Pocahontas went further than
efforts to make peace between the superior race and her own. When the
whites forced the Indians to contribute from their scanty stores to the
support of the invaders, and burned their dwellings and shot them on
sight if they refused, the Indian maid sympathized with the exposed
whites and warned them of stratagems against them; captured herself by a
base violation of the laws of hospitality, she was easily reconciled to
her situation, adopted the habits of the foreigners, married one of her
captors, and in peace and in war cast in her lot with the strangers.
History has not preserved for us the Indian view of her conduct.

It was no doubt fortunate for her, though perhaps not for the colony,
that her romantic career ended by an early death, so that she always
remains in history in the bloom of youth. She did not live to be pained
by the contrast, to which her eyes were opened, between her own and her
adopted people, nor to learn what things could be done in the Christian
name she loved, nor to see her husband in a less honorable light than
she left him, nor to be involved in any way in the frightful massacre
of 1622. If she had remained in England after the novelty was over, she
might have been subject to slights and mortifying neglect. The struggles
of the fighting colony could have brought her little but pain. Dying
when she did, she rounded out one of the prettiest romances of all
history, and secured for her name the affection of a grea