American fiction -- 19th century; Historical fiction; Indians of North America -- Fiction
“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 buffalo 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 Menominee. “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.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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