“A party of Delawares, in one of their excursions, during the revolutionary war, took a white female prisoner. The Indian Chief, after a march of several days, observed that she was ailing, and was soon convinced (for she was far advanced in her pregnancy) that the time of her delivery was near. He immediately made a halt on the banks of a stream, where, _at a proper distance from the encampment_, he built for her a close hut of peeled barks, gathered dry grass and fern to make her a bed, and placed a blanket at the opening of the dwelling as a substitute for a door. He then kindled a fire, placed a pile of wood near it to feed it occasionally, and placed a kettle of water at hand where she might easily use it. He then took her into her little infirmary, gave her Indian medicines, with directions how to use them, and told her to rest easy, and she might be sure that nothing should disturb her. Having done this, he returned to his men, forbade them from making any noise, or disturbing the sick woman in any manner, and told them that he himself should guard her during the night. He did so; and the whole night kept watch before her door, walking backward and forward, to be ready at her call at any moment, in case of extreme necessity. The night passed quietly; but in the morning, as he was walking by on the bank of the stream, seeing him through the crevices she called to him and presented her babe. The good chief, with tears in his eyes, rejoiced at her safe delivery; he told her not to be uneasy, that he should lay by for a few days, and would soon bring her some nourishing food, and some medicines to take. Then going to his encampment he ordered all his men to go out a hunting, and remained himself to guard the camp.” After citing this account a modern writer observes: “forgive me, reader, if, for a moment, I disturb the order of my extract. There is nothing that I know within the whole scope of anecdotal history more affecting than the present narration. How exalted was the humanity of this Indian Chief! how refined his delicacy! how watchful and tender his care! The pathos, though deep, is sweet; and Mr. Heckewelder has communicated the story in a style of feeling and simplicity worthy of it. He has made us witnesses of the transaction. We see through the darkness of the night, the swarthy warrior walking anxiously backward and forward before the hut of bark—the ‘little infirmary’ of the labouring woman. The morning comes; and in the pale dawn, behold! the poor creature, pointing, in a state of utter exhaustion to her babe, delivered in the wilderness—in night and solitude! Yet was she not entirely without support; for, over and above the secret aid which came to her pangs from high, see! she meets with sympathy in a wild man, a stranger, a warrior, who melts into tears at the sight! My heart, too, swells as I read. Bear with me——we will resume our extract.”