Impression on his face. 'I dined once with him at the

General's,' continued the baroness. 'In his dress he

showed off to advantage the half military and half savage

costume. His countenance was manly and intelligent, and

his disposition very mild.'

On his arrival in London for the second time, Brant

received a welcome even exceeding that which was given

him on his first visit. He was lauded as king of the red

men and lord of the boundless forest. In the houses of

the most illustrious people in the realm he was given a

place of high honour. One of those who took delight in

Brant's company was Lord Percy, heir to the dukedom of

Northumberland. Lord Percy had served in America and had

been adopted, according to Indian custom, into one of

the tribes of the Six Nations, and was called in its

language the Evergreen Brake. Charles James Fox, the

statesman, was also among the admirers of the War Chief.

Fox caused a beautiful silver snuff-box to be sent to

Brant, engraved with his initials. The Prince of Wales

was attracted by the chieftain and took Brant with him

on many of his jaunts about the capital. Brant was amazed

at some of the places to which his royal conductor

resorted. At the royal palace he was warmly greeted by

King George and Queen Charlotte and held in high esteem.

His official visit to their Majesties was marked by a

somewhat uncommon incident. As a dutiful subject, it was

in keeping with tradition that he should kiss the king's

hand, but this he refused to do. The War Chief could not

bend, even before the greatest of potentates. Turning to

the queen, however, after the fashion of a cavalier,

Brant said that he would be only too pleased to kiss her

hand. George III did not seem in the least annoyed. He

appeared rather to be delighted at this courtesy shown

his queen, and so the affair passed happily.

One humorous episode which happened during Brant's stay

in London caused quite a sensation. Through the good

graces of Earl Moira, he was invited to attend a masquerade

ball in Mayfair. It was to be a festive event, and people

of distinguished rank were expected to be present. Brant

did not go to any pains to deck himself out artfully for

the occasion, but was attired only in the costume of his

tribe. To change his appearance, he painted a portion of

his face, and arrived in this guise at the place of

entertainment. As he entered the gay ball-room, his lofty

plumage swayed grandly and a glittering tomahawk shone

from his girdle. The scene that met his eyes was resplendent

with life and beauty. Masked figures were flitting by,

clad in every imaginable garb. Here was a sleek-faced

friar, rotund and merry; there, a gypsy maid, or mild-eyed

shepherdess with her stave. Lonely hermits and whimsical

jesters, cackling witches, and members of a pilgrim

band--all thronged together with laugh or grimace, adding

their own peculiar lustre to the brilliant assembly. By

and by a Turk came strolling down the floor; he was a

diplomat of high degree, and two nymphs from the paradise

of Islam hovered near at hand. Suddenly the Turk caught

sight of the painted features of the sturdy redskin. He

stopped, and fixed the Indian with his gaze. Here, he

thought, was the chance for a bit of frolic. In a moment

he had lost his stately demeanour and lurched jocularly

towards the warrior. He reached for the Indian's face,

thinking it was screened with parchment. The next instant

he had tweaked the nose of the great chief of the Six

Nations. Above the confusing medley of sounds burst the

wild accents of the blood-freezing war-whoop. On the