“This is the sacred volume, Hist,” she said —“and these words, and lines, and verses, and chapters, all came from God.”
“Why Great Spirit no send book to Injin, too?” demanded Hist, with the directness of a mind that was totally unsophisticated.
“Why?” answered Hetty, a little bewildered by a question so unexpected. “Why?— Ah! you know the Indians don’t know how to read.”
If Hist was not satisfied with this explanation, she did not deem the point of sufficient importance to be pressed. Simply bending her body, in a gentle admission of the truth of what she heard, she sat patiently awaiting the further arguments of the pale-face enthusiast.
“You can tell these chiefs that throughout this book, men are ordered to forgive their enemies; to treat them as they would brethren; and never to injure their fellow creatures, more especially on account of revenge or any evil passions. Do you think you can tell them this, so that they will understand it, Hist?”
“Tell him well enough, but he no very easy to understand.” Hist then conveyed the ideas of Hetty, in the best manner she could, to the attentive Indians, who heard her words with some such surprise as an American of our own times would be apt to betray at a suggestion that the great modern but vacillating ruler of things human, public opinion, might be wrong. One or two of their number, however, having met with missionaries, said a few words in explanation, and then the group gave all its attention to the communications that were to follow. Before Hetty resumed she inquired earnestly of Hist if the chiefs had understood her, and receiving an evasive answer, was fain to be satisfied.
“I will now read to the warriors some of the verses that it is good for them to know,” continued the girl, whose manner grew more solemn and earnest as she proceeded —“and they will remember that they are the very words of the Great Spirit. First, then, ye are commanded to ‘love thy neighbor as Thyself.’ Tell them that, dear Hist.”
“Neighbor, for Injin, no mean pale-face,” answered the Delaware girl, with more decision than she had hitherto thought it necessary to use. “Neighbor mean Iroquois for Iroquois, Mohican for Mohican, Pale-face for pale face. No need tell chief any thing else.”
“You forget, Hist, these are the words of the Great Spirit, and the chiefs must obey them as well as others. Here is another commandment —‘Whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.’”
“What that mean?” demanded Hist, with the quickness of lightning.
Hetty explained that it was an order not to resent injuries, but rather to submit to receive fresh wrongs from the offender.
“And hear this, too, Hist,” she added. “‘Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you.’”
By this time Hetty had become excited; her eye gleamed with the earnestness of her feelings, her cheeks flushed, and her voice, usually so low and modulated, became stronger and more impressive. With the Bible she had been early made familiar by her mother, and she now turned from passage to passage with surprising rapidity, taking care to cull such verses as taught the sublime lessons of Christian charity and Christian forgiveness. To translate half she said, in her pious earnestness, Wah-ta-Wah would have found impracticable, had she made the effort, but wonder held her tongue tied, equally with the chiefs, and the young, simple-minded enthusiast had fairly become exhausted with her own efforts, before the other opened her mouth, again, to utter a syllable. Then, indeed, the Delaware girl gave a brief translation of the substance of what had been both read and said, confining herself to one or two of the more striking of the verses, those that had struck her own imagination as the most paradoxical, and which certainly would have been the most applicable to the case, could the uninstructed minds of the listeners embrace the great moral truths they conveyed.
It will be scarcely necessary to tell the reader the effect that such novel duties would be likely to produce among a group of Indian warriors, with whom it was a species of religious principle never to forget a benefit, or to forgive an injury. Fortunately, the previous explanations of Hist had prepared the minds of the Hurons for something extravagant, and most of that which to them seemed inconsistent and paradoxical, was accounted for by the fact that the speaker possessed a mind that was constituted differently from those of most of the human race. Still there were one or two old men who had heard similar doctrines from the missionaries, and these felt a desire to occupy an idle moment by pursuing a subject that they found so curious.
“This is the Good Book of the pale-faces,” observed one of these chiefs, taking the volume from the unresisting hands of Hetty, who gazed anxiously at his face while he turned the leaves, as if she expected to witness some visible results from the circumstance. “This is the law by which my white brethren professes to live?”
Hist, to whom this question was addressed, if it might be considered as addressed to any one, in particular, answered simply in the affirmative; adding that both the French of the Canadas, and the Yengeese of the British provinces equally admitted its authority, and affected to revere its principles.
“Tell my young sister,” said the Huron, looking directly at Hist, “that I will open my mouth and say a few words.”
“The Iroquois chief go to speak — my pale-face friend listen,” said Hist.
“I rejoice to hear it!” exclaimed Hetty. “God has touched his heart, and he will now let father and Hurry go.”
“This is the pale-face law,” resumed the chief. “It tells him to do good to them that hurt him, and when his brother asks him for his rifle to give him the powder horn, too. Such is the pale-face law?”
“Not so — not so —” answered Hetty earnestly, when these words had been interpreted —“There is not a word about rifles in the whole book, and powder and bullets give offence to the Great Spirit.”
“Why then does the pale-face use them? If he is ordered to give double to him that asks only for one thing, why does he take double from the poor Indian who ask for no thing. He comes from beyond the rising sun, with this book in his hand, and he teaches the red man to read it, but why does he forget himself all it says? When the Indian gives, he is never satisfied; and now he offers gold for the scalps of our women and children, though he calls us beasts if we take the scalp of a warrior killed in open war. My name is Rivenoak.”
When Hetty had got this formidable question fairly presented to her mind in the translation, and Hist did her duty with more than usual readiness on this occasion, it scarcely need be said that she was sorely perplexed. Abler heads than that of this poor girl have frequently been puzzled by questions of a similar drift, and it is not surprising that with all her own earnestness and sincerity she did not know what answer to make.
“What shall I tell them, Hist,” she asked imploringly —“I know that all I have read from the book is true, and yet it wouldn’t seem so, would it, by the conduct of those to whom the book was given?”
“Give ’em pale-face reason,” returned Hist, ironically —“that always good for one side; though he bad for t’other.”
“No — no — Hist, there can’t be two sides to truth — and yet it does seem strange! I’m certain I have read the verses right, and no one would be so wicked as to print the word of God wrong. That can never be, Hist.”
“Well, to poor Injin girl, it seem every thing can be to pale-faces,” returned the other, coolly. “One