The Indian: On the Battle-Field and in the WigwamFrost, John
History
The Indian: On the Battle-Field and in the Wigwam
Frost, John
Indians of North America
“To peace and happiness!” exclaimed the tall chief, while his eye
flashed fire--“Behold the blessings that follow the footsteps of the
white man! Wherever he comes, the nations of the woodlands fade from
the eye, like the mists of the morning. Once over the wide forest of
the surrounding world our people roamed in peace and freedom; nor ever
dreamed of greater happiness than to hunt the beaver, the bear, and the
wild deer. From the furthest extremity of the great deep came the
white man, armed with thunder and lightning, and weapons still more
pernicious. In war he hunted us like wild beasts; in peace, he destroyed
us by deadly liquors, or yet more deadly frauds. Yet a few moons had
passed away, and whole nations of invincible warriors, and of hunters,
that fearless swept the forest and the mountain, perish, vainly
opposing their triumphant invaders, or quietly dwindled into slaves and
drunkards--and their names withered from the earth. Retire, dangerous
man! Leave us all we yet have left--our savage virtues, and our gods;
and do not, in the vain attempt to cultivate a rude and barren soil,
pluck up the few thrifty plants of native growth that have survived the
fostering cares of the people, and weathered the stormy career of their
pernicious friendship.” The tall chief darted into the wood, and the
good missionary pursued his way with pious resolution.
He preached the only true divinity, and placed before the eyes of the
wondering savages the beauty of holiness, &c.
*****
The awe-struck Indians, roused by these accumulated motives--many
of them adopted the precepts of the missionary, as far as they could
comprehend them; and, in the course of eighteen months, their devotion
became rational, regular, and apparently permanent.
All at once, however, the little church, in which the good man was wont
to pen his fold, became deserted. No votary came, as usual, to listen,
with decent reverence, to the pure doctrines which they were accustomed
to hear; and only a few solitary idlers were seen, of a Sunday morning,
lounging about, and casting a wistful yet fearful look at their little
peaceful and now silent mansion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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