“Tell me,” said, Hiatu-we-noken-chah, or `woman of
the night,' “the Great Spirit whom you have taught me to
fear, why has he made the white woman rich and happy,
and the Dahcotah poor and miserable?” She spoke with
bitterness when she remembered the years of sorrow that
had made up the sum of her existence.
But how with the missionary's wife? had her life been
one bright dream—had her days been always full of gladness—her
nights quiet and free from care? Had she never
longed for the time of repose, that darkness might cover her
as with a mantle—and when `sleep forsook the wretched,”
did she not pray for the breaking of the day, that she might
again forget all in the performance of the duties of her station?
Could it be that the Creator had balanced the happiness
of one portion of his children against the wretchedness
of the rest? Let her story answer.
Her home is now among the forests of the west. As a
child she would tremble when she heard of the savage
whose only happiness was in shedding the blood of his fellow
creatures. The name of an “Indian” when uttered by
her nurse would check the boisterous gayety of the day or
the tedious restlessness of the night.
As she gathered flowers on the pleasant banks of the
Sciota, would it not have brought paleness to her cheek to
have whispered her that not many years would pass over
her, before she would be far away from the scenes of her
youth?
And as she uttered the marriage vow, how little did she
think that soon would her broken spirit devote time, energies,
life, to the good of others; as an act of duty and, but
for the faith of the Christian, of despair. For several
years she only wept with others when they sorrowed; fair
children followed her footsteps, and it was happiness to guide
their voices, as they, like the morning stars, sang together;
or to listen to their evening prayer as they folded their
hands in childlike devotion ere they slept.
And when the father returned from beside the bed of
death, where his skill could no longer alleviate the parting
agonies of the sufferer: how would he hasten to look upon
the happy faces of his children, in order to forget the scene
he had just witnessed. But, man of God as he was, there
was not always peace in his soul; yet none could see that
he had cause for care. He was followed by the blessings
of those who were ready to perish. He essayed to make
the sinner repent, and to turn the thoughts of the dying to
Him who suffered death on the cross.
But for months the voice of the Spirit spake to his heart;
he could not forget the words—“Go to the wretched Dahcotahs,
their bodies are suffering, and their souls, immortal
like thine, are perishing. Soothe their temporal cares, and
more, tell them the triumphs of the Redeemer's love.”
But it was hard to give up friends, and all the comforts
with which he was surrounded: to subject his wife to the
hardships of a life in the wilderness, to deprive his children
of the advantages of education and good influences, and
instead—to show them life as it is with those who know not
God. But the voice said, “Remember the Dahcotahs.”
Vainly did he struggle with the conflict of duty against inclination.
The time has come when the parents must weep for
themselves. No longer do the feet of their children tread
among the flowers; fever has paralyzed their strength, and
vainly does the mother call upon the child, whose eyes wander
in delirium, who knows not her voice from a stranger's.
Nor does the Destroyer depart when one has sunk into a
sleep from which there is no awakening until the morn of
the resurrection. He claims another, and who shall resist
that claim!
As the father looks upon the still forms of his children,
as he sees the compressed lips, the closed eyes of the beings
who were but a few days ago full of life and happiness, the
iron enters his soul; but as the Christian remembers who
has afflicted him, his spirit rises above his sorrow. Nor is
there now any obstacle between him and the path of duty.
The one child that remains must be put in charge of those
who will care for her, and he will go where God directs.
But will the mother give up the last of her children? it
matters not now where she lives, but she must part with
husband or child! Self has no part in her schemes; secure
in her trust in God she yields up her child to her
friend, and listens not to the suggestions of those who
would induce her to remain where she would still enjoy
the comforts of life. Nothing should separate her from her
husband. “Entreat me not to leave thee; where thou goest
I will go, where thou diest I will die, and there will I be
buried.”
And as the Dahcotah woman inquires of the justice of
God, the faces of her children rise up before her—first in
health, with bright eyes and lips parted with smiles, and then
as she last saw them—their hands white to transparency,
the hue of death upon their features; the shrouds, the little
coffins, the cold lips, as she pressed them for the last time.
The Dahcotah looked in astonishment at the grief which
for a few moments overcame the usual calmness of her kind
friend; and as she wondered why, like her, she should shed
bitter tears, she heard herself thus addressed—
“Do not think that you alone have been unhappy. God
afflicts all his children. There is not a spot on the earth
which is secure from sorrow. Have I not told you why?
This world is not your home or mine. Soon will our bodies
lie down in the earth—and we would forget this, if we were
always happy.
“And you should not complain though your sorrows
have been great. Do not forget the crown of thorns which
pressed the brow of the Saviour, the cruel nails that pierced
his hands and feet, the desertion of his friends, his fear that
God his Father had forsaken him. And remember that
after death the power of those who hated him ceased; the
grave received but could not keep his body. He rose from
the dead, and went to Heaven, where he has prepared a
place for all who love him; for me and mine, I trust, and
for you too, if you are careful to please him by serving him
yourself, and by endeavoring to induce your friends to give
up their foolish and wicked superstitions, and to worship
the true God who made all things.”
