 | CHAPTER II. The oak openings, or, The bee-hunter |  |
2. CHAPTER II.
Would, like the patriarch's, soothe a dying hour;
With voice as low, as gentle, and caressing
As e'er won maiden's lips in moonlit bower;
With look like patient Job's, eschewing evil;
With motions graceful as the birds in air;
Thou art, in sober truth, the veriest devil
That e'er clinched fingers in a captive's hair?
Halleck's Red-Jacket.
Although the arrival of the runner was so totally unexpected,
it scarcely disturbed the quiet of that grave assembly.
His approaching step had been heard, and he was
introduced in the manner mentioned, when the young chief
resumed his seat, leaving the messenger standing near the
centre of the circle, and altogether within the influence of
the light. He was an Ottawa, and had evidently travelled
far and fast. At length he spoke; no one having put a
single question to him, or betrayed the least sign of impatient
curiosity.
“I come to tell the chiefs what has happened,” said the
runner. “Our Great Father from Quebec has sent his
young men against the Yankees. Red warriors, too, were
there in hundreds—” here a murmur of interest was slightly
apparent among the chiefs— “their path led them to Detroit;
it is taken.”
A low murmur, expressive of satisfaction, passed round
the circle, for Detroit was then the most important of all
the posts held by the Americans, along the whole line of
the great lakes. Eye met eye in surprise and admiration;
then one of the older chiefs yielded to his interest in the
subject, and inquired—
“Have our young men taken many pale-face scalps?”
“So few that they are not worth counting. I did not
see one pole that was such as an Indian loves to look on.”
“Did our young men keep back, and let the warriors
from Quebec do all the fighting?”
“No one fought. The Yankees asked to be made prisoners,
without using their rifles. Never before have so
many captives been led into the villages with so little to
make their enemies look on them with friendly eyes.”
A gleam of fierce delight passed athwart the dark features
of Peter. It is probable that he fell into the same
error, on hearing these tidings, as that which so generally
prevailed for a short time among the natives of the Old World,
at the commencement of both of the two last wars of the
republic, when the disasters with which they opened induced
so many to fall into the fatal error of regarding Jonathan
as merely a “shopkeeper.” A shopkeeper, in a certain
sense, he may well be accounted; but among his wares are
arms, that he has the head, the heart, and the hands to use,
as man has very rarely been known to use them before.
Even at this very instant, the brilliant success which has
rendered the armed citizens of tis country the wonder
of Europe, is reacting on the masses of the Old World,
teaching them their power, and inciting them to stand up
to the regularly armed bands of their rulers, with a spirit
and confidence that, hitherto, has been little known in their
histories. Happy, thrice happy will it be, if the conquerors
use their success in moderation, and settle down into
the ways of practical reason, instead of suffering their
minds to be led astray in quest of the political jack o' lanterns,
that are certain to conduct their followers into the
quagmires of impracticable and visionary theories. To
abolish abuses, to set in motion the car of state on the
track of justice and economy, and to distinguish between
that which is really essential to human happiness and human
rights, and that which is merely the result of some wild
and bootless proposition in political economy, are the great
self-imposed tasks that the European people seem now to
have assumed; and God grant that they may complete their
labours with the moderation and success with which they
would appear to have commenced them!
As for Peter, with the curse of ignorance weighing on
his mind, it is to be presumed that he fancied his own great
task of destroying the whites was so much the lighter, in
The runner was now questioned by the different
chiefs for details, which he furnished with sufficient intelligence
and distinctness. The whole of that discreditable
story is too prominent in history, and of too recent occurrence,
to stand in need of repetition here. When the
runner had told his tale, the chiefs broke the order of their
circle, to converse the more easily concerning the great
events which had just occurred. Some were not backward
in letting their contempt for the “Yankees” be known.
Here were three of their strong places taken, in quick
succession, and almost without a blow. Detroit, the strongest
of them all, and defended by an army, had fallen in a
way to bring the blush to the American face, seemingly
leaving the whole of the north-western frontier of the
country ravished from the red man, exposed to his incursions
and depredations.
“What does my father think of this?” asked Bear's Meat
of Peter, as the two stood apart, in a cluster of some three
or four of the principal personages present. “Does the
news make his heart stronger?”
“It is always strong when this business is before it. The
Manitou has long looked darkly upon the red men, but now
his face brightens. The cloud is passing from before his
countenance, and we can begin again to see his smile. It
will be with our sons as it was with our fathers. Our
hunting grounds will be our own, and the buffaloe and
deer will be plenty in our wigwams. The fire-water will
flow after them that brought it into the country, and the
red man will once more be happy, as in times past!”
The ignuus fatuus of human happiness employs all
minds, all faculties, all pens, and all theories, just at this
particular moment. A thousand projects have been
broached, will continue to be broached, and will fail, each
in its time, showing the mistakes of men, without remedying
the evils of which they complain. This is not because
a beneficent Providence has neglected to enlighten their
minds, and to show them the way to be happy, here and
hereafter; but because human conceit runs, pari passu,
with human woes, and we are too proud to look for our
lessons of conduct, in that code in which they have been
the political economists, and reformers, and revolutionists
of the age, would turn from their speculations to those
familiar precepts which all are taught and so few obey,
they would find rules for every emergency; and, most of
all, would they learn the great secret which lies so profoundly
hid from them and their philosophy, in the contented
mind. Nothing short of this will ever bring the
mighty reform that the world needs. The press may be
declared free, but a very brief experience will teach those
who fancy that this one conquest will secure the victory,
that they have only obtained King Stork in the lieu of King
Log; a vulgar and most hideous tyrant for one of royal
birth and gentle manners. They may set up the rule of
patriots by profession, in place of the dominion of those
who have so long pretended that the art of governing descends
from male to male, according to the order of primogeniture,
and live to wonder that love of country should
have so many weaknesses in common with love of self.
They may rely on written charters for their liberties, instead
of the divine right of kings, and come perchance to
learn, that neither language, nor covenants, nor signatures,
nor seals avail much, as against the necessities of nations,
and the policy of rulers. Do we then regard reform as
impossible, and society to be doomed to struggle on in its
old sloughs of oppression and abuses? Far from it. We
believe and hope, that at each effort of a sage character,
something is gained, while much more than had been expected
is lost; and such we think will continue to be the
course of events, until men shall reach that period in their
history when, possibly to their wonder, they will find that
a faultless code for the government of all their affairs has
been lying neglected, daily and hourly, in their very hands,
for eighteen centuries and a half, without their perceiving
the all-important truth. In due season this code will supersede
all others, when the world will, for the first time,
be happy and truly free.
There was a marked resemblance between the hopes
and expectations of Peter, in reference to the overthrow
of his pale-face enemies on the American continent, and
those of the revolutionists of the Old World in reference
of Europe. Each fancies success more easy of attainment
than the end is likely to show; both overlook the terrible
power of their adversaries; and both take the suggestions
of a hope that is lively rather than enlightened, as the substitute
for the lessons of wisdom.
It was some little time ere the council had so far regained
its calm, as to think of inviting the missionary to resume
his discourse. The last had necessarily heard the news,
and was so much troubled by it, as to feel no great disposition
to proceed; but Peter intimating that “the ears of
his friends were open,” he was of opinion it would be wisest
to go on with his traditions.
“Thus it was, my children,” Parson Amen continued,
the circle being just as quiet and attentive as if no interruption
had occurred—“the Great Spirit, selecting from
among the nations of the earth, one to be his chosen people.
I cannot stop, now, to tell you all he did for this nation, in
the way of wonders and power; but, finally, he placed them
in a beautiful country, where milk and honey abounded,
and made them its masters. From that people, in his
earthly character, came the Christ whom we missionaries
preach to you, and who is the great head of our church.
Although the Jews, or Israelites, as we call that people,
were thus honoured and thus favoured of the Manitou,
they were but men, they had the weaknesses of men. On
more than one occasion they displeased the Great Spirit,
and that so seriously as to draw down condign punishment
on themselves, and on their wives and children. In various
ways were they visited for their backslidings and sins, each
time repenting and receiving forgiveness. At length the
Great Spirit, tired of their forgetfulness and crimes, allowed
an army to come into their land, and to carry away as captives
no less than ten of their twelve tribes; putting their
people in strange hunting grounds. Now, this happened
many thousands of moons since, and no one can say with
certainty what has become of those captives, whom Christians
are accustomed to call `the lost tribes of Israel.' ”
Here the missionary paused to arrange his thoughts, and
a slight murmur was heard in the circle as the chiefs communed
together, in interested comments on what had just
again proceeded, safe from any ungracious interruption,
among auditors so trained in self-restraint.
“Children, I shall not now say anything touching the
birth of Christ, the redemption of the world, and the history
of the two tribes that remained in the land where God
had placed his people; for that is a part of the subject that
comes properly within the scope of my ordinary teaching.
At present I wish only to speak of yourselves; of the red
man of America, of his probable origin and end, and of
a great discovery that many of us think we have made, on
this most interesting topic in the history of the good book.
Does any one present know aught of the ten lost tribes of
whom I have spoken?”
Eye met eye, and expectation was lively among those
primitive and untaught savages. At length Crowsfeather
arose to answer, the missionary standing the whole time,
motionless, as if waiting for a reply.
“My brother has told us a tradition,” said the Pottawattamie.
“It is a good tradition. It is a strange tradition.
Red men love to hear such traditions. It is wonderful that
so many as ten tribes should be lost, at the same time, and
no one know what has become of them! My brother asks
us if we know what has become of these ten tribes. How
should poor red men, who live on their hunting grounds,
and who are busy when the grass grows in getting together
food for their squaws and pappooses, against a time when
the buffaloe can find nothing to eat in this part of the world,
know anything of a people that they never saw? My brother
has asked a question that he only can answer. Let
him tell us where these ten tribes are to be found, if he
knows the place. We should like to go and look at them.”
“Here!” exclaimed the missionary, the instant Crowsfeather
ceased speaking, and even before he was seated.
“Here—in this Council—on these prairies—in these Openings—here,
on the shores of the great lakes of sweet water,
and throughout the land of America, are these tribes to be
found. The red man is a Jew; a Jew is a red man. The
Manitou has brought the scattered people of Israel to this
part of the world, and I see his power in the wonderful
fact. Nothing but a miracle could have done this!”
Great was the admiration of the Indians at this announcement!
None of their own traditions gave this account of
their origin; but there is reason to believe, on the other
hand, that none of them contradict it. Nevertheless, here
was a medicine-priest of the pale-faces boldly proclaiming
the fact, and great was the wonder of all who heard,
thereat! Having spoken, the missionary again paused,
that his words might produce their effect. Bear's Meat
now became his interrogator, rising respectfully, and standing
during the colloquy that succeeded.
“My brother has spoken a great tradition,” said the
Menomenee. “Did he first hear it from his fathers?”
“In part, only. The history of the lost tribes has come
down to us from our fathers; it is written in the good book
of the pale-faces; the book that contains the word of the
Great Spirit.”
“Does the good book of the pale-faces say that the red
men are the children of the people he has mentioned?”
“I cannot say that it does. While the good book tells
us so much, it also leaves very much untold. It is best
that we should look for ourselves, that we may find out
some of its meanings. It is in thus looking, that many
Christians see the great truth which makes the Indians of
America and the Jews beyond the great salt lake, one and
the same people.”
“If this be so, let my brother tell us how far it is from
our hunting grounds to that distant land across the great
salt lake?”
“I cannot give you this distance in miles exactly; but
I suppose it may be eleven or twelve times the length of
Michigan.”
“Will my brother tell us how much of this long path is
water, and how much of it is dry land?”
“Perhaps one-fourth is land, as the traveller may choose;
the rest must be water, if the journey be made from the
rising towards the setting sun, which is the shortest path;
but, let the journey be made from the setting towards the
rising sun, and there is little water to cross: rivers and
lakes of no great width, as is seen here, but only a small
breadth of salt lake.”
“Are there, then, two roads to that far off land, where the
red men are thought to have once lived?”
“Even so. The traveller may come to this spot from
that land by way of the rising sun, or by way of the setting
sun.”
The general movement among the members of the
Council denoted the surprise with which this account was
received. As the Indians, until they have had much intercourse
with the whites, very generally believe the earth to
be flat, it was not easy for them to comprehend how a given
point could be reached by directly opposite routes. Such
an apparent contradiction would be very likely to extort
further questions.
“My brother is a medicine-man of the pale-faces; his
hairs are gray,” observed Crowsfeather. “Some of your
medicine-men are good, and some wicked. It is so with
the medicine-men of the red-skins. Good and bad are to
be found in all nations. A medicine-man of your people
cheated my young men by promising to show them where
fire-water grows. He did not show them. He let them
smell, but he did not let them drink. That was a wicked
medicine-man. His scalp would not be safe did my young
men see it again—” here the bee-hunter, insensibly to himself,
felt for his rifle, making sure that he had it between
his legs; the corporal being a little surprised at the sudden
start he gave. “His hair does not grow on his head closer
than the trees grow to the ground. Even a tree can be
cut down. But all medicine-men are not alike. My brother
is a good medicine-man. All he says may not be just
as he thinks, but he believes what he says. It is wonderful
how men can look two ways; but it is more wonderful that
they should go to the same place by paths that lead before
and behind. This we do not understand; my brother will
tell us how it can be.”
“I believe I understand what it is that my children
would know. They think the earth is flat, but the pale-faces
know that it is round. He who travels and travels
towards the setting sun would come to this very spot, if he
travelled long enough. The distance would be great, but
the end of every straight path in this world is the place of
starting.”
“My brother says this. He says many curious things.
I have heard a medicine-man of his people say that the
pale-faces have seen their Great Spirit, talked with him,
walked with him. It is not so with us Indians. Our Manitou
speaks to us in thunder only. We are ignorant, and
wish to learn more than we now know. Has my brother
ever travelled on that path which ends where it begins?
Once, on the prairies, I lost my way. There was snow,
and glad was I to find tracks. I followed them tracks.
But one traveller had passed. After walking an hour, two
had passed. Another hour, and three had passed. Then
I saw the tracks were my own, and that I had been walking,
as the squaws reason, round and round, but not going
ahead.”
“I understand my friend, but he is wrong. It is no
matter which path them lost tribes travelled to get here.
The main question is, whether they came at all. I see in
the red men, in their customs, their history, their looks, and
even in their traditions, proofs that they are these Jews,
once the favoured people of the Great Spirit.”
“If the Manitou so well loves the Indians, why has he
permitted the pale-faces to take away their hunting-grounds?
Why has he made the red man poor, and the white man
rich? Brother, I am afraid your tradition is a lying tradition,
or these things would not be so.”
“It is not given to men to understand the wisdom that
cometh from above. That which seemeth so strange to us
may be right. The lost tribes had offended God; and their
scattering, and captivity, and punishment, are but so many
proofs of his displeasure. But, if lost, we have reason to
believe that one day they will be found. Yes, my children,
it will be the pleasure of the Great Spirit, one day, to restore
you to the land of your fathers, and make you again,
what you once were, a great and glorious people!”
As the well-meaning but enthusiastic missionary spoke
with great fervour, the announcement of such an event,
coming as it did from one whom they respected, even while
they could not understand him, did not fail to produce a
deep sensation. If their fortunes were really the care of
the Great Spirit, and justice was to be done to them by his
love and wisdom, then would the projects of Peter, and those
lead to evil instead of to good. That sagacious savage did
not fail to discover this truth; and he now believed it
might be well for him to say a word, in order to lessen the
influence Parson Amen might otherwise obtain among
those whom it was his design to mould in a way entirely
to meet his own wishes. So intense was the desire of this
mysterious leader to execute vengeance on the pale-faces,
that the redemption of the tribes from misery and poverty,
unaccompanied by this part of his own project, would have
given him pain in lieu of pleasure. His very soul had got
to be absorbed in this one notion of retribution, and of
annihilation for the oppressors of his race; and he regarded
all things through a medium of revenge, thus created
by his feelings, much as the missionary endeavoured to bend
every fact and circumstance, connected with the Indians,
to the support of his theory touching their Jewish origin.
When Peter arose, therefore, fierce and malignant passions
were at work in his bosom; such as a merciful and
a benignant deity never wishes to see in the breast of man,
whether civilized or savage. The self-command of the
Tribeless, however, was great, and he so far succeeded in
suppressing the volcano that was raging within, as to speak
with his usual dignity, and an entire calmness of exterior.
“My brothers have heard what the medicine-man had to
say,” Peter commenced. “He has told them that which
was new to them. He has told them an Indian is not an
Indian. That a red man is a pale-face, and that we are
not what we thought we were. It is good to learn. It
makes the difference between the wise and the foolish. The
pale-faces learn more than the red-skins. That is the way
they have learned how to get our hunting-grounds. That
is the way they have learned to build their villages on the
spots where our fathers killed the deer. That is the way
they have learned how to come and tell us that we are not
Indians, but Jews. I wish to learn. Though old, my mind
craves to know more. That I may know more, I will ask
this medicine-man questions, and my brothers can open
their ears, and learn a little, too, by what he answers. Perhaps
we shall believe that we are not red-skins, but pale-faces.
Perhaps we shall believe that our true hunting-grounds
under the rising sun. Perhaps we shall wish to go home,
and to leave these pleasant Openings for the pale-faces to
put their cabins on them, as the small-pox that they have
also given to us, puts its sores on our bodies. Brother—”
turning towards the missionary—“listen. You say we are
no longer Indians, but Jews: is this true of all red men,
or only of the tribes whose chiefs are here?”
“Of all red men, as I most sincerely believe. You are
now red, but once all of your people were fairer than the
fairest of the pale-faces. It is climate, and hardships, and
sufferings that have changed your colour.”
“If suffering can do that,” returned Peter, with emphasis,
“I wonder we are not black. When all our hunting-grounds
are covered with the farms of your people, I
think we shall be black.”
Signs of powerful disgust were now visible among the
listeners, an Indian having much of the contempt that
seems to weigh so heavily on that unfortunate class, for all
of the colour mentioned. At the South, as is known, the
red man bas already made a slave of the descendants of
the children of Africa, but no man has ever yet made a
slave of a son of the American forests! That is a result
which no human power has yet been able to accomplish.
Early in the settlement of the country, attempts were indeed
made, by sending a few individuals to the islands; but
so unsuccessful did the experiment turn out to be, that the
design was soon abandoned. Whatever may be his degradation,
and poverty, and ignorance, and savage ferocity, it
would seem to be the settled purpose of the American Indians
of our own territories — unlike the aborigines who
are to be found further south—to live and die a free man.
“My children,” answered the missionary, “I pretend
not to say what will happen, except as it has been told to
us in the word of God. You know that we pale-faces have
a book, in which the Great Spirit has told us his laws, and
foretold to us many of the things that are to happen. Some
of these things have happened, while some remain to happen.
The loss of the ten tribes was foretold, and has happened;
but their being found again, has not yet happened, unless
indeed I am so blessed as to be one of those who have been
book—it goes where I go, and is my companion and friend,
by day and by night; in good and evil; in season and out
of season. To this book I cling as to my great anchor,
that is to carry me through the storms in safety! Every
line in it is precious; every word true!”
Perhaps half the chiefs present had seen books before, while
those who now laid eyes on one for the first time, had heard
of this art of the pale-faces, which enabled them to set
down their traditions in a way peculiar to themselves. Even
the Indians have their records, however, though resorting
to the use of natural signs, and a species of hieroglyphics,
in lieu of the more artistical process of using words and
letters, in a systemized written language. The Bible, too,
was a book of which all had heard, more or less; though
not one of those present had ever been the subject of its
influence. A Christian Indian, indeed—and a few of those
were to be found even at that day—would hardly have
attended a council convened for the objects which had
caused this to be convened. Still, a strong but regulated
curiosity existed, to see, and touch, and examine the great
medicine-book of the pale-faces. There was a good deal
of superstition blended with the Indian manner of regarding
the sacred volume; some present having their doubts
about touching it, even while most excited by admiration,
and a desire to probe its secrets.
Peter took the little volume, which the missionary extended
as if inviting any one who might so please, to examine
it also. It was the first time the wary chief had
ever suffered that mysterious book to touch him. Among
his other speculations on the subject of the manner in
which the white men were encroaching, from year to year,
on the lands of the natives, it had occurred to his mind
that this extraordinary volume, which the pale-faces all
seemed to reverence, even to the drunkards of the garrisons,
might contain the great elements of their power.
Perhaps he was not very much out of the way in this supposition;
though they who use the volume habitually, are
not themselves aware, one half the time, why it is so.
On the present occasion, Peter saw the great importance
of not betraying apprehension, and he turned over the
for the first time, but boldly and without hesitation. En
couraged by the impunity that accompanied this hardihood,
Peter shook the leaves open, and held the volume on high,
in a way that told his own people that he cared not for its
charms or power. There was more of seeming than of
truth, however, in this bravado; for never before had this
extraordinary being made so heavy a draft on his courage
and self-command, as in the performance of this simple act.
He did not, could not know what were the virtues of the
book, and his imagination very readily suggested the worst.
As the great medicine volume of the pale-faces, it was quite
likely to contain that which was hostile to the red men;
and this fact, so probable in his eyes, rendered it likely that
some serious evil to himself might follow from the contact.
It did not, however; and a smile of grim satisfaction lighted
his swarthy countenance, as, turning to the missionary, he
said with point—
“Let my brother open his eyes. I have looked into his
medicine-book, but do not see that the red man is anything
but a red man. The Great Spirit made him; and what
the Great Spirit makes, lasts. The pale-faces have made
their book, and it lies.”
“No, no — Peter, Peter, thou utterest wicked words!
But the Lord will pardon thee, since thou knowest not
what thou sayest. Give me the sacred volume, that I may
place it next my heart, where I humbly trust so many of its
divine precepts are already entrenched.”
This was said in English, under the impulse of feeling,
but being understood by Peter, the latter quietly relinquished
the Bible, preparing to follow up the advantage he perceived
he had gained, on the spot.
“My brother has his medicine-book, again,” said Peter,
“and the red men live. This hand is not withered like
the dead branch of the hemlock; yet it has held his word
of the Great Spirit! It may be that a red-skin and a pale-face
book cannot do each other harm. I looked into my
brother's great charm, but did not see or hear a tradition
that tells me we are Jews. There is a bee-hunter in these
Openings. I have talked with him. He has told me who
these Jews are. He says they are a people who do not go
the small-pox. It is not right for my brother to come
among the red men, and tell them that their fathers were
not good enough to live, and eat, and go on the same paths
as his fathers.”
“This is all a mistake, Peter—a great and dangerous
mistake! The bee-hunter has heard the Jews spoken of
by those who do not sufficiently read the good book. They
have been, and are still, the chosen people of the Great
Spirit, and will one day be received back to his favour.
Would that I were one of them, only enlightened by the
words of the New Testament! No real Christian ever
can, or does now despise a son of Israel, whatever has
been done in times past. It is an honour, and not a disgrace,
to be what I have said my friends are.”
“If this be so, why do not the pale-faces let us keep our
hunting-grounds to ourselves? We are content. We do
not wish to be Jews. Our canoes are too small to cross
the great salt lake. They are hardly large enough to cross
the great lakes of sweet water. We should be tired of
paddling so far. My brother says there is a rich land under
the rising sun, which the Manitou gave to the red men?
Is this so?”
“Beyond all doubt. It was given to the children of Israel,
for a possession for ever; and though you have been
carried away from it for a time, there the land still is, open
to receive you, and waiting the return of its ancient masters.
In good season that return must come; for we have
the word of God for it, in our Christian Bible.”
“Let my brother open his ears very wide, and hear what I
have to say. We thank him for letting us know that we are
Jews. We believe that the thinks what he says. Still, we
think we are red men, and Injins, and not Jews. We never
saw the place where the sun rises. We do not wish to see it.
Our hunting-grounds are nearer to the place where he sets.
If the pale-faces believe we have a right to that distant land,
which is so rich in good things, we will give it to them,
and keep these Openings, and prairies, and woods. We
know the game of this country, and have found out how to
kill it. We do not know the game under the rising sun,
which may kill us. Go to your friends and say, `The Injins
let them alone on their hunting-grounds, where they have
so long been. They say that your canoes are larger than
their canoes, and that one can carry a whole tribe. They
have seen some of your big canoes on the great lakes, and
have measured them. Fill all you have got with your
squaws and pappooses, put your property in them, and go
back by the long path through which you came. Then
will the red man thank the pale-face and be his friend.
The white man is welcome to that far-off land. Let him
take it, and build his villages on it, and cut down its trees.
This is all the Injins ask. If the pale-faces can take away
with them the small-pox and the fire-water, it will be better
still. They brought both into this country, it is right that
they should take them away.' Will my brother tell this to
his people?”
“It would do no good. They know that the land of
Judea is reserved by God for his chosen people, and they
are not Jews. None but the children of Israel can restore
that land to its ancient fertility. It would be useless for
any other to attempt it. Armies have been there, and it
was once thought that a Christian kingdom was set up on
the spot; but neither the time nor the people had come.
Jews alone can make Judea what it was, and what it will
be again. If my people owned that land, they could not
use it. There are also too many of us now, to go away in
canoes.”
“Did not the fathers of the pale-faces come in canoes?”
demanded Peter, a little sternly.
“They did; but since that time their increase has been
so great, that canoes enough to hold them could not be
found. No; the Great Spirit, for his own wise ends, has
brought my people hither; and here must they remain to
the end of time. It is not easy to make the pigeons fly
south in the spring.”
This declaration, quietly but distinctly made, as it was
the habit of the missionary to speak, had its effect. It told
Peter, and those with him, as plainly as language could tell
them, that there was no reason to expect the pale-faces
would ever willingly abandon the country, and seemed the
more distinctly, in all their uninstructed minds, to place
some manifestation of feeling would have escaped the circle,
had not an interruption to the proceedings occurred, which
put a stop to all other emotions but those peculiar to the
lives of savages.
| CHAPTER II. The oak openings, or, The bee-hunter | |