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Updated: May 15, 2025
"You catch Wonolanset, tie um, shoot um, scare squaw. Old sachem come now, me tie white man, shoot um, roast um;" and the old savage smiled grimly and fiercely in the indistinct moonlight, as he witnessed the alarm and terror of his prisoner. "Hold, Passaconaway!" said Martin, in the Indian tongue. "Will the great chief forget his promise?" The sachem dropped his hold on Mr. Ward's arm.
"Such damnable heresy," said Mr. Ward, addressing his neighbors, "must not be permitted to spread among the people. My friends, we must send this man to the magistrates." The Familist placed his hands to his month, and gave a whistle, similar to that which was heard in the morning, and which preceded the escape of Wonolanset.
MANY years ago I read, in some old chronicle of the early history of New England, a paragraph which has ever since haunted my memory, calling up romantic associations of wild Nature and wilder man: "The Sachem Wonolanset, who lived by the Groat Falls of Patucket, on the Merrimac." It was with this passage in my mind that I visited for the first time the Rapids of the Merrimac, above Lowell.
The growl of the young bear when roused from his hiding-place is not more fierce and threatening than were the harsh tones of Wonolanset as he uttered through his clenched teeth: "Nummus quantum." "Nay, nay," said Mr. Ward, turning away from the savage, "his heart is full of bitterness; he says he is angry, and, verily, I like not his bearing. I fear me there is evil on foot.
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