To them
there could be no discrimination--an Indian was an Indian.
"Mr. Wells, welcome to the Village of Peace!" exclaimed Mr.
Zeisberger, wringing the old missionary's hand. "The years have not
been so long but that I remember you."
"Happy, indeed, am I to get here, after all these dark, dangerous
journeys," returned Mr. Wells. "I have brought my nieces, Nell and
Kate, who were children when you left Williamsburg, and this young
man, James Downs, a minister of God, and earnest in his hope for our
work."
"A glorious work it is! Welcome, young ladies, to our peaceful
village. And, young man, I greet you with heartfelt thankfulness. We
need young men. Come in, all of your, and share my cabin. I'll have
your luggage brought up. I have lived in this hut alone. With some
little labor, and the magic touch women bring to the making of a
home, we can be most comfortable here."
Mr. Zeisberger gave his own room to the girls, assuring them with a
smile that it was the most luxurious in the village. The apartment
contained a chair, a table, and a bed of Indian blankets and buffalo
robes. A few pegs driven in the chinks between the logs completed
the furnishings. Sparse as were the comforts, they appealed warmly
to the girls, who, weary from their voyage, lay down to rest.
"I am not fatigued," said Mr.
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