Then he took me in a fourth room where fine beautiful _hearts_
were served up, and I was desired to eat. But I perceived
that it was still the same. I therefore refused.
Then said he, "It is well done. Thou hast done well!"
Heh! Had I unfortunately eaten of this, then had I become
a cannibal in addition to all my other misfortunes.
Those who eat at these feasts are frequently, but not universally told
thus:
This is a sign to thee that thou shalt one day become a cannibal
and feed on the flesh of thy fellows. When thou shalt see
children play with and eat ice (or snow) _in_ thy tent, say
"My time is near." For then thou shalt soon eat _Indian_ (human)
flesh.
They have such dread and horror of this that it is constantly in their
minds.
You white people! [You] who live at your ease, get your living
out of your nets or from your Indians, and besides are not
otherwise troubled as we, make light of these things. I do not
make much account of them either. But I tell you that he who thus
once dreams of either of those dogs are for ever after continually
troubled with them.
{48} We do everything in our power to drive him away from us.
But still he hovers about us, and we cannot avoid him. You are
very fortunate! You live as you please; never care for him; nor
does he molest you.
Such I am told are the _sentiments_ of these people in general.
[Behavior of Infected People]
I look upon this as a sort of mania, a fever, a distemper of the
brain. Their eyes (for I have seen [them] thus perplexed) are wild and
uncommonly clear; they seem as if they glistened. It seems to me to
lodge in the head. They are generally rational except at short, sudden
intervals when the paroxysms seize them. Their motions then are
various and diametrically contrary at one time to what they are the
next moment: Sullen, thoughtful, wild [looking] and perfectly mute,
staring in sudden convulsions, [they use] wild, incoherent and
extravagant language.
[An Account of Survival]
There was one a few years back infected with this not far from where I
was at the time. The accounts given of him, though I shall not vouch
for their truth, are thus.
One night towards the latter end of December he began staring
at his daughter with an extraordinary intenseness.
"My daughter! I am fond of thee! I love thee extremely!"
"I know thou dost." replied the woman abashed, for she was then
very young.
"Yes! I love thee. I think I could eat a piece of thee, I love
thee so much."
The girl exclaimed at his rashness. There were but three of them:
the father, daughter and her husband.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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