Many times the long avenue of hemlocks was honored by the gathering of the tribes of red men at Dorminghurst.

Before entering the city for their business with the Governor and Council at Philadelphia, the Indians invariably camped on the estate of the big white chief, James Greydon, as a mark of respect to their friend. Usually the exchange of courtesies could best be accomplished by preparing a feast for the assembled tribesmen.

On the day set apart for the feast, the tribesmen approached the mansion through the avenue of hemlocks. They were clothed in their best buckskin leggings, skin robes and moccasins, and bedecked with plumage and trinkets. No arms or tomahawks were carried, because the Indians respected the Quakers’ dislike of war. They seated themselves in respectful silence on each side of the avenue under the spreading trees, while the servants were busied covering the white tables with dozens of roasted turkeys, ducks, chickens, saddles of venison,—roasted before an open fire,—roasts of beef, pyramids of doughnuts and apples, great pies and cakes, and then light bread cut into slices. All this provision met the eyes of the hungry savage, as he sat smoking his kin-ni-kin-nick.

An occasional grunt of satisfaction issued out of the shade of the hemlocks, whenever a chief, between puffs at his pipe, assented to the monosyllables of the others. The groups were picturesque, seated and grouped around the trees of the spacious lawn. Dignity, becoming a noble race, was written in the lofty mien and countenance of every face. If ever Indians were happy, they were, in partaking of the generous hospitality of this noble Quaker, who was the successor of their great father, William Penn.

The importance of a tribal feast to the Colonists, in 1732, had much weight with the principal men of the State. The distinguished men of the province travelled long distances to be present at these gatherings given by the master of Dorminghurst.

The feast began when the Secretary led out of his mansion an assemblage of gay ladies and gentlemen. James Greydon led them down the wide avenue of hemlocks, bowing and smiling to the natives. They all proceeded to a lofty and spreading oak, accompanied by the great Chief, Altamaha. When the ladies were seated and the gentlemen grouped about, the Chief of the Onondagas, Altamaha, stepped forward and gave a short command. At once the whole body of Indians came forward and squatted on the ground in the form of a half-moon, facing the white people. The chiefs formed a group distinct from the other tribesmen within the circle facing James Greydon.

When the Indians had taken their places James Greydon advanced with solemnity to address his guests:

“My children: The spirit of our great father, William Penn, calls us together again. I welcome you as his children. We are all his children. We have been driven from our homes by the persecutions of the English. We seek our homes among the children of the Great Spirit of the forest, the red men; we are brothers.

“We love our brothers; if they come to our wigwams, hungry, we give them food; we do not make war upon them in their hunting-grounds; we love peace.

“The Great Spirit who rules the heavens and the earth knows that the children of William Penn have a hearty desire to live in peace and friendship with you. Your friend and great father, William Penn, retained a warm affection for all the Indians and commanded all those whom he sent to govern the Quakers to treat the Indians as his children; he continued in this love for them until his death.

“My brethren: Your hearts have been clean and you have preserved the pledge of friendship long ago made for your great father’s children, and the chain has no breaks or rust; you have never forgotten the great love which our father, William Penn, had for you.

“My friends: May your young men learn from you what your great father said to you before he went to his happy hunting-grounds. May our chain of friendship never be broken and may it endure between our children and our children’s children, and may it last while the creeks and rivers run and while the sun, moon and stars do shine.

“I make you welcome to my home.”

Altamaha stood up in his place, and with stolid mien, looking toward his people and the whites, began to reply, at first slowly, while his voice grew in volume as he proceeded:

“Father: Listen to your children; you have them now before you.

“We all belong to our great father, William Penn; we all are children of the Great Spirit; we walk in the same path; slake our thirst at the same spring; and now our great father wishes us to smoke the pipe around the same fire.“Brothers: We must love each other; we must smoke the same pipe; we must help each other; and more than all we must love the Great Spirit; he is for us; he will destroy our enemies, the King’s dogs; he will make all his red children and the children of our great father happy together.

“Brothers: We are friends; we must assist each other to bear our burdens. The blood of many of our fathers and brothers has run like water on the ground to satisfy the avarice of the King. We, the red men, are threatened with great evil; nothing will pacify the King but the destruction of all the Indians.

“When the English first set foot on our grounds they were hungry; they had no place on which to spread their blankets or kindle their fires. They were feeble; they could do nothing for themselves. Our fathers commiserated their distress and shared freely with them whatever the Great Spirit had given his red children. They gave them food when hungry; medicine when sick; spread skins for them to sleep on, and gave them ground that they might hunt and raise corn,—Brothers: Our enemies are like poisonous serpents; when chilled they are feeble and harmless; but invigorate them with warmth and they sting their benefactors to death.

“Brothers: Our enemies came among us feeble and now that we have made them strong, they wish to kill us or drive us back as they would wolves and panthers.

“Brothers: The King is not a friend to the Indians. At first he only asked for lands sufficient for a wigwam; but now nothing will satisfy him but the whole of our hunting-grounds from the rising to the setting sun.

“The King wants more than our hunting-grounds; he wishes to kill all our old men, women and little ones.

“Our enemies despise and cheat the Indians; they abuse and insult them; they do not think the red men sufficiently good to live.

“Brothers: Who are our enemies that we should fear them? They can not run fast, and are good marks to shoot at; they are only men; our fathers have killed many of them; we are not squaws, and we will stain the earth red with their blood.

“Brothers: We must compare our enemies to a fat dog that carries its tail upon its back; but when affrighted it drops its tail between its legs and runs away.

“O Brothers: The children of our great father Penn are different; they do not love war; they love peace and happiness. When I heard the voice of my great father coming up the valley of the mountains, calling me to this feast, it seemed as a murmuring wind. I got up from my mat where I sat musing, and hastened to obey it. My pathway hither has been clear and bright. There is not a cloud to darken it. Truly it is a pleasant sky above our heads to-day. I have nothing but pleasant words for my father’s children. The raven is not waiting for his prey. I hear no eagle cry. Come, brothers, let us go, the feast is ready.”

The whites, at the conclusion of this burst of native eloquence, were visibly affected. The delivery was impassioned and clear. For the moment all seemed to be transfixed by the impressive character of the speech. James Greydon, however, walked up to the savage chieftain, shook him by the hand, saying: “Good, good, my friend,” and then escorted him by the arm to the tables. The whole assemblage arose and followed in order. When the Indians were all arranged by themselves on each side of the table, the sachem stepped to the head and gave thanks to the Great Spirit in loud and earnest tones by some word of their dialect which sounded to the European ear like “Wah, Wah,” and when he had finished, in no less earnest tones, the whole assembly of natives replied by words which sounded like “Swe, Swe.” At once thereafter the solemnity of the occasion was at an end. The Indians began to talk and laugh. The feast began.

In Indian fashion the natives sat on the ground and waited for the attendants to serve them with portions of everything on the table. The younger people, especially the squaws, would point at the different delicacies and dishes. One feature which attracted the notice and remarks of the entire deputation was a small pig, which had been stuffed and roasted, standing on all fours. At the other end was a large beaver, dressed and cooked in like manner. The center was embellished by placing a coon and a ’possum, dressed and cooked to a turn, which were standing on all fours and facing each other, as though they were ready to fight. These preparations of their own popular dishes immensely pleased the Indians. But when huge pewter mugs of cool ale were passed, then there was fun. The old men and warriors drank it with satisfaction. When the young people and women were urged to take a draught they would shrink from it at first, and when they had tasted it they would make wry faces at which all the others laughed. When the cakes and pies came around, however, the women looked at them curiously and ate them with enjoyment, for they were produced by an art of cookery unknown to the squaws.

The whole feast passed off gayly, yet modestly. An Indian abhors familiarity and vulgarity. The conversation was pleasant but never hilarious. They sat on the ground, Indian fashion, and ate with their hands and fingers, but, withal, there was no greediness. They were polite to each other and waited in silence for their turn to be served. Courtesy to each other is a cardinal practice and they respect the proprieties of intercourse between themselves on all occasions.

However, in a group under a tree by themselves were the chiefs and James Greydon and his white friends. The whites were eating like Indians, seated on the ground and joining in the pleasures of the feast. When everybody had eaten and had drunk all that was needed, Altamaha brought out a new pipe and filled it with tobacco from his pouch. He lighted the tobacco with his steel and flint. After taking several puffs of the smoke, he passed the pipe first to the white chief, James Greydon. Then after a few puffs, Greydon passed it to his white friends. The pipe was then passed to all the chiefs and sachems. After all the principal men of the tribes had smoked the pipe of friendship and peace, Altamaha took it to James Greydon, saying:“Your brother gives you his pipe of friendship and peace. You must keep it and never again let it be used. Never let the fire be put out which Altamaha has kindled for you.”

Standing up, James Greydon took the pipe, saying in reply:

“My good friend: The most noble of his race is Altamaha. His pledge of friendship to me to-day shall never be broken. The pipe shall be a token to me and my children of the love of Altamaha and his people. His fire shall burn forever in my heart. But come, Altamaha, let us all be merry. Let the young men dance. Our white friends will be pleased.”

At a sign for the dance, the great sachem, Pisquagon, stepped out into an open space on the lawn and began to shake his shell rattles and let out some vocal gyrations. The young men and women applauded by screeching and clapping of hands. The whole concourse gathered around Pisquagon and in unison joined in his chant:

“Yo! ho! ha! ha!—

“Yo! ho! ha! ha!—

“Yo! ho! ha! ha!—

“Yo! ho! ha! ha!” And to the rhythm made by the shell rattles, one warrior with feathered war-cap waving above him, shoulders and limbs bare, lets out a whoop and starts over the green by jerking his two feet together over the ground. Presently another, “dressed in Georgia fashion,”—little else on than a collar and a pair of spurs,—starts off sideways, moving his feet over the ground by jerks, in unison with the shell rattles. Suddenly he faces the other performer and the two proceed in unison, one forward and the other backward, following the same direction around in a circle. As if by magic, yells come from the others, and pairs join the moving circle in manner like the first two.

The circle is completed. The noisy stamping of their feet and the shrieks of enthusiasm are startling. At certain cadences in the chant, each one faces about and continues the moving circle in the same direction as before, dancing and contorting with renewed spirit and energy. The dusky throng performs all manner of grotesque movements. Every conceivable posture of the human frame is kept up while moving to the beats and rhythm of the shells. The men were dancing alone, but a young squaw, desiring to join, presents herself at the side of the one whom she wishes to favor, and quietly dances in the circle. There was no cessation of the spirit of the dance till sheer exhaustion stopped it. Some sort of superstitious frenzy seemed to possess their souls. To the whites the most amusing part of it all was to observe the solemn and serious faces of those who were in the performance of the most grotesque antics. Not a smile softened their somber mien.

A well-contested foot-race for a necklace of beads was run between the Indian girls to conclude the festivities, and when the setting sun had drawn near, James Greydon’s Indian friends had withdrawn so silently and without ceremony, that he remarked to his guests when he looked around to find them:

“The earth must have swallowed them up.”