Autobiographies; Boys -- Biography; Country life; New England
John was not naturally very cruel, and it was probably the love of
display quite as much as of fighting that led him into a military life;
for he, in common with all his comrades, had other traits of the savage.
One of them was the same passion for ornament that induces the African
to wear anklets and bracelets of hide and of metal, and to decorate
himself with tufts of hair, and to tattoo his body. In John's day there
was a rage at school among the boys for wearing bracelets woven of
the hair of the little girls. Some of them were wonderful specimens of
braiding and twist. These were not captured in war, but were sentimental
tokens of friendship given by the young maidens themselves. John's own
hair was kept so short (as became a warrior) that you couldn't have made
a bracelet out of it, or anything except a paintbrush; but the little
girls were not under military law, and they willingly sacrificed their
tresses to decorate the soldiers they esteemed. As the Indian is honored
in proportion to the scalps he can display, at John's school the boy
was held in highest respect who could show the most hair trophies on his
wrist. John himself had a variety that would have pleased a Mohawk, fine
and coarse and of all colors. There were the flaxen, the faded straw,
the glossy black, the lustrous brown, the dirty yellow, the undecided
auburn, and the fiery red. Perhaps his pulse beat more quickly under the
red hair of Cynthia Rudd than on account of all the other wristlets put
together; it was a sort of gold-tried-in-the-fire-color to John,
and burned there with a steady flame. Now that Cynthia had become
a Christian, this band of hair seemed a more sacred if less glowing
possession (for all detached hair will fade in time), and if he had
known anything about saints, he would have imagined that it was a part
of the aureole that always goes with a saint. But I am bound to say that
while John had a tender feeling for this red string, his sentiment was
not that of the man who becomes entangled in the meshes of a woman's
hair; and he valued rather the number than the quality of these elastic
wristlets.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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