A ROYAL SICK-BED.

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hoping to be able to conciliate the goodwill of the new sachem, though after all that had passed between them it was possible he might desire rather to do them a mischief. "Leaving the event to God," they made straight for the lion's den, Conbatant's own house, whom they found not at home, but were kindly entertained by the squaw sachem, his wife.

Here they heard that Massasoit was still alive, though his death was expected every moment. As soon as they received this news by a messenger whom they had sent to inquire the truth, they hastily went on to the chief's house, where they arrived at night, and found themselves not too late to assist at a most noisy deathbed.

The house was so full of people that the new comers could scarcely make their way in. Round the patient had gathered all the pow-wows of the neighbourhood, an order of men who among the Indian tribes exercised the double functions of priest and physician. These ignorant impostors were called in to conjure out the evil spirit which was believed to possess the sick man. This duty they performed by dancing and yelling frantically around him, hideously disguised in paint and feathers; they were accustomed to throw their limbs into the most horrible contortions, to strain their eyes almost out of the sockets, to sweat, to foam at the mouth, till they were exhausted by the violence of their exertions, which they would keep up for hours, while the spectators surrounding them with admiration joined in the chorus of their yells and shrieks.

Sometimes they would administer herbs, stroke or chafe the afflicted part, or pretend to suck out the ailment; but these maniacal spells were the chief feature of their treatment, and Winslow and his companions found a band of them in full swing, "making such a hellish noise as it distempered us that were well, and therefore unlike to ease him that was sick."

With all their superstition the Indians had much respect for the wisdom of the white men. The pow-wows brought their din to an end, and Winslow was allowed to approach the bed. The old chief held out his hand and faintly bade him farewell. But the visitor, though he knew little of physic, thought something might still be done for the sick man's comfort at least, and addressed himself to play the doctor after a more sensible fashion. Putting a little piece of "confection of conserves upon the point of his knife, he forced it through Massasoit's teeth, and the chief swallowed the juice of it, to the delight of those about him. Winslow then made the usual inquiries as to when the patient had last slept, eaten, and so forth, looked at his tongue, found it so much swollen that he could swallow nothing, washed out his mouth, got down a little more of the confection, and dissolved some in water, which the sick man presently drank. This slight nourishment wrought a wonderful improvement; the chief, to the astonishment of those who had given him up for lost, began to recover his sight, his voice, and his appetite. Winslow sent off a letter to the plantation, desiring that there might

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be sent at once a bottle of drink, some chickens, and other articles of food suitable for invalids, and whatever physic their surgeon might think to be indicated by the symptoms described.

In the morning Massasoit was so much better that he was calling out for broth, such as he had once tasted at Plymouth. His English visitor was as little of a cook as of a physician, but he did his best with corn, strawberry leaves, and sassafras root, boiled in a pipkin, of which concoction the patient drank a pint, and desired a duck or a goose to follow. Winslow succeeded in shooting one, and Massasoit, disregarding all advice, ate so greedily that he made himself sick, and his nose burst out bleeding, which among the Indians was held for a sure symptom of death. Yet by care and nursing he now recovered rapidly, and when the chickens arrived desired that they might be kept for breeding, as his stomach no longer required to be tempted by such dainties.

This unexpected cure did not fail to send up the credit of the English, nor was the boldness of two men in trusting themselves among the Indians without good effect. In the warmth of his gratitude Massasoit revealed that the Massachusetts were plotting to rouse the other tribes to fall upon the strangers in both colonies. He himself, he said, had been solicited to join this conspiracy, but had refused; and he now advised his friends, if they valued their safety, to anticipate the blow by attacking the main instigators of the intended mischief, and striking terror into the rest before they could