However much we differ from our fellow men, there is one peculiarity common to us all—that of hoarding up a collection of old letters and papers, and never re-reading them. If we all do not actually commit this folly (which was devised by the fiends for the purpose of lumbering up corners that should be utilized for more practical commodities), we at least feel a strong disposition to do so, and yet we are annually tempted to gather the old time letters and their attendant memories and toss them into the flames we so fervently wish could burn out the years wherein those memories had their birth, for ashes are really so beautiful, such blow-away pearl-grey things, they are quite like the afternoon petals on some odd and exquisite grey flower. But if I can help it this old paper beside me will never see the flames. It was published in Toronto and bears the date, September 28, 1867. In looking through its faded columns I begin to wonder what interest it can possibly contain for me, and with my mind fresh from reading of the present elections my eyes naturally rest on this item:
“Complimentary Dinner—We understand from the London Advertiser that a complimentary dinner to Thos. Scatcherd and James Smith, Esqrs., the successful Reform candidates in North Middlesex, will be given at Ailsa Craig on the 2nd of October, when invitations will be extended to the Hon. George Brown and Messrs. McKenzie, McKellar, Mills, F. Smith and other leading gentlemen in the Western Peninsula.”
Surely this paper is a back number, we do not hear these names often now in connection with our campaigns. It cannot be for this that some one has so carefully hoarded it. Ah, here it is marked in faded ink, under the heading “City News”:
“After a grand review yesterday, inspected by Gen. Stisted, of all the military forces of this garrison, the 13th Hussars, headed by their fine band, and followed by the two batteries marched westward through King street to their quarters. The music gave notice of the approach of the troops, and citizens, strangers and the promiscuous groups of sight-seers daily visiting the city were gratified with a view of a good cavalry and artillery force. At the front of the march and the observed of all, riding by the side of the commanding officers, was Chief Onwanonsyshon of the Six Nations, attired in the picturesque costume of his people. The chief received marked attentions from the officers of the forces, and seemed to be perfectly at home under the keen glance of hundreds who wondered who the distinguished visitor was. The chief, with his cocked hat and huge bunch of feathers, his erect manly bearing, looked a good field officer. It was very handsome of our military authorities thus to recognize the chief on whose breast dangled a medal of 1812, commemorating the valor of his father and his people. The act was graceful, honorable, poetic.”
I dare not say what interest this item possesses for me, though it is a long time since the brave referred to rode his jet black pony by the side of the old British regulars or the young colonial militia. There is a beautiful, well-worn old buckskin costume folded away, a rusty scalping knife, and silver mounted tomahawk lying idly by not very far off. There is no one to carry them now.
But the extract from the old newspaper makes me wonder how many Torontonians know that the Duke of Connaught, whom they welcomed so royally and cheered so heartily recently, is a Chief of the Six Nation Indians. Twenty years ago, while on his first visit to Canada, he received the honor, proffered to few white men, of being ceremoniously initiated into the rites of chieftainship, thereby being enabled to take a seat among the hereditary chiefs in the Great Council and to have a voice in the government of the Six Nations.
Some of the chiefs in that confederacy have inherited their title through hundreds of years, and it is the greatest distinction and honor for them to confer the title upon an outsider. The Iroquois are the most exclusive and conservative people in the world regarding their rites and lineage. But it always pleases them to receive communications from the duke when they are signed “Your Brother-Chief—Arthur,” and sometimes he attaches his Mohawk name “Kavakoudge,” which means “The sun that flies from east to west—the great sun which travels from morning till night over the vast dominions of our Queen.”
And with his assumption of this name with its distinct Indian significance, and his rank and title of Chief of the Six Nations, he was decorated with an exquisite sash of Indian workmanship, rare and odd in its ornamentation of beads and porcupine quills, which was adjusted on his royal shoulders by the hand of the same chief who two years previously reviewed the Thirteenth Hussars with General Stisted. The young prince-chief wore his new decoration proudly, saying he would always keep it with him in England. That sash is the one appointment that leaves incomplete a certain old disused Indian costume, but the one that gave it was not here to welcome back his “brother-chief” to the Canada he loved so well.