Many of the things that he did seem difficult to explain, but that he did them, in full view of both Indians and whites, there is no doubt. Both official and unofficial groups came from afar on divers occasion, ample testimony to the authenticity of these events was given both verbally and in writing, to the authorities at Massachusetts. One member of an investigating committee reported that he no doubt did the tricks, if such they were, but that he did so with the aid of his "Consort the Devil." After he accepted Christianity he sought the advice of the Apostle Eliot who advised wisely, in view of his intimate knowledge of the Indian mind, that they might continue so long as he did not ascribe what he did as due to the favor of deity.

        What did the Amoskeags and their visitors witness at Amoskeag Falls in what is now Manchester? They saw "rocks move, trees dance, green leaves in winter, blocks of ice in summer, squirming, harmless adders in winter, frozen fish and frosted branches in summer, and at any season dry leaves curling up and burning in a bowl, without apparent cause."

        He could seemingly call mists to envelope himself together with all those immediately near him, and to disperse the same mist at will. He would stand erect upon a pile of small dry sticks, have them ignited until he seemed to be a veritable flaming man. The mist would come and when presently it had gone, he would be found calm and unharmed. Reversing the process, the mists would come while there was no fire. Instantly flames would appear, only to have entirely vanished when the fleecy clouds passed on.

        Perhaps his most spectacular feat was accomplished while there were numbers of his own and of white visitors grouped on the river bank. The mist would come and when it had gone he would be found on the other shore with arms upraised. The watchers would soon be again, enveiled in mist, which soon passed on, when Passaconaway would be found coming up the river bank, dripping wet as one just out of the water.

        No Indian ever attempted to explain how these things were done. Was not their Passaconaway, greatest chieftain of them all, able to do things that no other Indian could do? The Great Spirit himself had given him these powers. Why should they inquire? Many a white man who did, received a stern rebuke, as was his due. Among the whites, whether sent officially or as voluntary visitors, there was much verbal and many written explanations, but the fact that almost none of these "explanations" were like any of the others, is an indication of how well the great bashaba guarded his secrets, which he carried with him to the grave. It is well, for they served their time and served it well, and helped to cement the confidence that, existed between the leader and his people.

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THE LAST LEGEND

        Much more could be written about this truly wonderful Indian, drawn from Provincial records and private letters written by those who knew Passaconaway and his son Wonalancet. The legend regarding his death lingered on and was well believed by the scattered remnants of the Penacook Indians who did not make the long journey to the St. Francis country in 1677. It was told in great sincerity and earnestness and woe betide the questioning white man who expressed a doubt. He was usually met with "We believe your story of the ascension of your Master. Why should you disbelieve ours?"

        It was about the middle of February, 1684. From comparative Indian accounts, it was well below zero, with a sky of azure blue and not a cloud to be seen anywhere. Passaconaway had been told to journey to what we now know as Dustin Island, where the wild rushing Contoocook divides that it may quietly enter the Merrimack. With whom he had journeyed hither he did not know and could not remember, for now he found himself erect and alone amidst a circle of glowing coals, whose rising heat gave him perfect protection from the elements.

        Now well past the century mark, the heavy sinews and muscles of former years shrunken and face much wrinkled, he nevertheless was able to stand erect and with folded arms await the will of the Great Spirit. Presently the message came and in almost though not quite audible tones he was told, "Passaconaway, thy time has come. Watch the southern sky and do my bidding, for thou art speedily to be made ready for the journey to the Happy Hunting Grounds which the Great Spirit prepared for those who have done their best."

        The message ceased and immediately his eyes, still keen and little dimmed by age, scanned the sky southward to what we now know as Concord. Here there appeared to be very small white clouds, which as he watched intently seemed to be coming northward, following the "River of Swift and Broken Waters."

        Nearer and nearer they came to his lonely isle at the mouth of the "Silver Stream that Winds among the Hills." As the clouds drew nearer they grew larger and began to swirl round and round, until to his great delight he saw they were filled with wolves,―wolves, the fastest thing in the forest, and better still, a sweeping count showed one hundred and twenty, the Indian's idea of the largest wolf pack ever known.

        In wonderment filled with trust he stood erect and strong, with arms folded as the fires burned low and his own clothing seemed to take on added winter strength. He noticed that the wolves in the clouds were stringing out in great circles, two by two, until with one grand sweep they sped past him before his very eyes.

        Was this an apparition or was it real? He was to know almost instantly. It took only a few brief moments for the wolves to speed by and come to a sudden stop. Instantly he found before him a magnificent sledge, heavily laden with well curried and finely softened furs of all the animals of forest, lake and stream, he had been accustomed to hunt throughout his long life.

        No heavenly message was needed now. The wolves were already tugging at their traces anxious to be up and away. 'Passaconaway stepped on a splendid bearskin mat, the largest and best he had ever known, for was he not "The Son of the Bear?" The softer and finer furs surrounded him with their warmth, and as his left hand grasped the side of the sledge for steadiness, he found a long rawhide whip in his right hand. He had seen the settlers' use these and had always wanted one for himself. Now his wish was fulfilled.

        One crack of the whip was the signal, and away they sped over the frozen wastes of the Merrimack, crossing meadows at open rapids or broken waters (falls), but generally following the river northward through what we now know as Boscawen, Franklin, Tilton, Winnisquam, Laconia, and Lakeport to Lake Paugus, named after his grandson.

        At Arquedahkenash, (The Weirs) it was necessary to slacken speed for here was his last earthly view of the representatives of his people. Out on the ice where the Weirs Station now stands, the brief stop was made, and as he looked upward and to the left, he saw several rows of the spirit forms of sachems and sagamores with whom he had worked so many years. All those on the shore had hands and arms extended high in the air,―the Indian's sign for "Welcome, brother."

        He started to address them, but the Great Spirit sealed his lips. The wolves were again tugging at their traces, anxious to perform their task. He had given them a quick glance and then again turned to the left, this time to see the spirit forms of his sachems and sagamores fading away, with the single right arms and hands of each one lifted high,―the Indian's sign for "Farewell, brother."

        A small group of former Winnepesaukees now appeared on the shore and this is what they saw. The wolf train with its precious load sped onward over the glassy surface of the lake, so beautifully streaked with windrows of the whitest and purest snow. The speed increased, (we can understand it now as we have seen a modern plane do the same thing) until the watchers on the shore saw them in the air, making straight for Agiococook (Mt. Washington) the highest of the hills.

        Now but a speck in the sky, they were at the top, and a brief moment of heavenly light such as they had never experienced before, illumined the scene. Here in a brilliant light, between two white clouds they saw their beloved Passaconaway, Greatest Chieftain of the tribes, received into the welcoming arms of the Great White Spirit,―the God of the Indian, and the God of all mankind.

George Calvin Carter, PASSACONAWAY: THE GREATEST OF THE NEW ENGLAND INDIANS. Granite State Press, Manchester NH, 1947. Pp. 12 - 19.

53 Morton: New England Canaan, 150-1.
54 Morton: New England Canaan, 25-6; Force: Historical Tracts, vol.11; Potter: History of Manchester.
55 Bouton: History of Concord, 20.
56 Same in Bouton; Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, 101.
57 See Wood, Morton, Hubbard and later historians.

        "Wood, in his 'New England Prospect,' says of him; 'The Indians report of one Passaconnan that hee can make 'the water burne, the rocks move, the trees dance, metamorphize himself into a flaming man. Hee will do more; for in winter, when there are no green leaves to be got, hee will burne an old one into ashes and, putting those into water, produce a new green leaf, which you shall not only see, but handle and carry away; and make of a dead snake-skin a living snake, both to be seen, felt, and heard'. This I write, but upon the report of the Indians who confidently affirm stranger things.

        "The historian, Thomas Morton, gives a unique description of the chief of the Pawtuckets, as follows:

        "Papasiquineo, that Sachem, or Sagamore, is a Powow of great estimation amongst all kinde of salvages. At their revels, which is a time when a great company of salvages meete from several parts of the country in amity with their neighbors, he hath advanced his honor in his feats of juggling tricks. Hee will endeavor to persuade the spectators that hee will goe under water to the further side of the river too broade for any man to undertake with a breath, which thing hee performed by swimming over, and deluded the company with casting a mist before their eise that see him enter in and come out, but no part of the way he has been seene. Likewise by our English in the heate of summer, to make ice appear in a bowle of faire water. First having the water set before him, he hath begunne his incantations, and before the same has bin ended a thick cloud has darkened the aire, and on a sodane a thunder-clap has bin hearde, and in an instant he hath showed a prime piece of ice to floate in the middle of a bowle, which, doubtless, was done by the agility of Satan, his Consort.'"

ILLUSTRATED HISTORY OF LOWELL. Lowell (MA): Courier-Citizen Co., 1897. Pp. 65-66.