Looking around for other standards wherewith to measure the progress of the knowledge of divinity in the New World, _prayer_ suggests itself as one of the least deceptive. "Prayer," to quote again the words of Novalis,[296-2] "is in religion what thought is in philosophy. The religious sense prays, as the reason thinks." Guizot, carrying the analysis farther, thinks that it is prompted by a painful conviction of the inability of our will to conform to the dictates of reason.[296-3] Originally it was connected with the belief that divine caprice, not divine law, governs the universe, and that material benefits rather than spiritual gifts are to be desired. The gradual recognition of its limitations and proper objects marks religious advancement. The Lord's Prayer contains seven petitions, only one of which is for a temporal advantage, and it the least that can be asked for. What immeasurable interval between it and the prayer of the Nootka Indian on preparing for war!-- "Great Quahootze, let me live, not be sick, find the enemy, not fear him, find him asleep, and kill a great many of him."[297-1] Or again, between it and the petition of a Huron to a local god, heard by Father Brebeuf:-- "Oki, thou who livest in this spot, I offer thee tobacco. Help us, save us from shipwreck, defend us from our enemies, give us a good trade, and bring us back safe and sound to our villages."[297-2] This is a fair specimen of the supplications of the lowest religion. Another equally authentic is given by Father Allouez.[297-3] In 1670 he penetrated to an outlying Algonkin village, never before visited by a white man. The inhabitants, startled by his pale face and long black gown, took him for a divinity. They invited him to the council lodge, a circle of old men gathered around him, and one of them, approaching him with a double handful of tobacco, thus addressed him, the others grunting approval:-- "This, indeed, is well, Blackrobe, that thou dost visit us. Have mercy upon us. Thou art a Manito. We give thee to smoke. "The Naudowessies and Iroquois are devouring us. Have mercy upon us. "We are often sick; our children die; we are hungry. Have mercy upon us. Hear me, O Manito, I give thee to smoke. "Let the earth yield us corn; the rivers give us fish; sickness not slay us; nor hunger so torment us. Hear us, O Manito, we give thee to smoke." In this rude but touching petition, wrung from the heart of a miserable people, nothing but their wretchedness is visible. Not the faintest trace of an aspiration for spiritual enlightenment cheers the eye of the philanthropist, not the remotest conception that through suffering we are purified can be detected.