Soon the air was dense with the fragrant
smoke; in the thick blue haze the sweep of painted figures had the
seeming of some fantastic dream. An old man arose and made a
long and touching speech with much reference to calumets and
buried hatchets. When he had finished a chief talked of
Opechancanough's love for the English, "high as the stars, deep as
Popogusso, wide as from the sunrise to the sunset," adding that the
death of Nemattanow last year and the troubles over the hunting
grounds had kindled in the breasts of the Indians no desire for
revenge. With which highly probable statement he made an end,
and all sat in silence looking at me and waiting for my
contribution of honeyed words. These Pamunkeys, living at a
distance from the settlements, had but little English to their credit,
and the learning of the Paspaheghs was not much greater. I sat and
repeated to them the better part of the seventh canto of the second
book of Master Spenser's "Faery Queen." Then I told them the
story of the Moor of Venice, and ended by relating Smith's tale of
the three Turks' heads. It all answered the purpose to admiration.
When at length they went away to change their paint for the
coming feast Diccon and I laughed at that foolery as though there
were none beside us who could juggle with words. We were as
light-hearted as children - God forgive us!
The day wore on, with relay after relay of food which we must
taste at least, with endless smoking of pipes and speeches that
must be listened to and answered.
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