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The hearts of the palefaces would not thrill to these superstitions of
the red men, though we spoke of them in the centre of the haunted
region. The habits and sentiments of that departed people were too
distinct from those of their successors to find much real sympathy. It
has often been a matter of regret to me that I was shut out from the
most peculiar field of American fiction by an inability to see any
romance, or poetry, or grandeur, or beauty in the Indian character, at
least till such traits were pointed out by others. I do abhor an Indian
story. Yet no writer can be more secure of a permanent place in our
literature than the biographer of the Indian chiefs. His subject, as
referring to tribes which have mostly vanished from the earth, gives
him a right to be placed on a classic shelf, apart from the merits
which will sustain him there.
I made inquiries whether, in his researches about these parts, our
mineralogist had found the three 'Silver Hills' which an Indian
sachem sold to an Englishman nearly two hundred years ago, and the
treasure of which the posterity of the purchaser have been looking for
ever since. But the man of science had ransacked every hill along the
Saco, and knew nothing of these prodigious piles of wealth. By this
time, as usual with men on the eve of great adventure, we had
prolonged our session deep into the night, considering how early we
were to set out on our six miles' ride to the foot of Mount
Washington. There was now a general breaking up. I scrutinized the
faces of the two bridegrooms, and saw but little probability of their
leaving the bosom of earthly bliss, in the first week of the honeymoon
and at the frosty hour of three, to climb above the clouds; nor when I
felt how sharp the wind was as it rushed through a broken pane and
eddied between the chinks of my unplastered chamber, did I
anticipate much alacrity on my own part, though we were to seek for
the 'Great Carbuncle.'
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