Hunting Indians in a Taxi-Cab
by Kate Sanborn
My first wish for an Indian was to add to the effect of my wigwam. I’ve always been rather partial to the Indian race because there is a tradition (which cannot be verified) that my great grandmother, Abigail Eastman Webster, had a slight infusion of Indian blood. She was a noble looking woman, I have been told, with rather a dark skin and large black eyes. Her son, Daniel Webster, possibly owed to her his swarthy complexion and wonderful eyes, like “Lanterns on a dark night,” as the Websters were mostly of a florid complexion, and addicted to red hair.
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