His vanity was very conspicuous. He was fully aware of his importance, and disposed to make others aware of it on every possible occasion. Colonel Pickering was often employed by the government to negotiate treaties, and would take down the speeches on the occasion in writing. At one time, when Red Jacket was the orator, he thought he would note the words of the interpreter whilst the Chief was himself speaking. He immediately paused, and on being requested to proceed said, “No, not whilst you hold down your head.” “Why can you not speak whilst I write?” “Because, if you look me in the eye, you will know whether I tell you the truth.” At another time, he turned his head to speak to a third person, when Red Jacket very haughtily rebuked him, saying, “When a Seneca speaks, he ought to be listened to with attention, from one end of this great island to the other.” When he returned from Philadelphia, he was in the habit of using his oratorical powers to embellish the manner of his reception, and would collect around him the Chiefs and people of his nation, and, dressed in his uniform, with the cocked hat under his arm, would personify the President, and bow to all present as if they were the company in the great saloon, imitating the manners and gestures of the original with true grace and dignity, and then entertain his audience with the compliments and attentions which had been bestowed upon him. When invited to dine, or be present on any occasion of social festivity among white people, he conformed with wonderful tact to the customs to which he was a stranger—never manifesting any surprise or asking any questions, till he could consult some friend whose ridicule he did not fear. It was after returning from Philadelphia, where he had dined with General Washington, that he asked the following explanation. He said a man stood behind his chair, and would, every now and then, run off with his plate and knife and fork, and immediately return with others. “Now,” said Red Jacket, “what was this for?” He was told that there was a variety of dishes on the President’s table, and each was cooked in a different way, and for every new dish the guests were helped to a new plate. “Oh,” said he, musing a moment, “is that it? You must then suppose that the plates and knives and forks retain the taste of the cookery?” On hearing the affirmative, he said, “But I should suppose the taste would remain on the palate longer than on the plate.” That, he was told, they were in the habit of washing away with wine. “Oh,” said he, “I now understand it. I thought, for so general a custom, you must have some good reason, and now regret that I did not know it when I was in Philadelphia; for the moment the man ran off with my plate, I would have drank wine till he returned with the other—for though I am fond of eating, I am more fond of drinking.”