Those who think the Indian uneducated should read Charles Eastman’s (_Ohiyesa_) book telling of his boyhood days with his Sioux parents and grandparents. Eastman is a full-blooded Sioux, and though later educated at Dartmouth College, still shows by his writings and words how much he reveres his wise teachers of the open air and the woods. The fact is, that in matters pertaining to personal observation the Indian children are far ahead of our own brightest and smartest children; they observe the slightest deviations from the regular order. Who does not know of the Indian’s power in trailing. I know Navahos, Mohaves, Hopis, Havasupais, and others who will follow the dimmest trail with unerring certainty, and tell you the details of the actions of the person or animal trailed. This is education of a wonderfully useful kind; a kind that it would be well to give more of to our own children. Indeed, I have been saying, both privately and publicly, for many years, and I here repeat it, that if my children were trained to observe and reflect upon what they observed I should not care if they never went to school until they were grown up to young manhood and womanhood. That keen, though unusual thinker, Ernest Crosby, in one of his books, presented the following, which perfectly meets my ideas and suggests what I mean in regard to the Indian: EDUCATION Here are two educated men. The one has a smattering of Latin and Greek; The other knows the speech and habits of horses and cattle, and gives them their food in due season. The one is acquainted with the roots of nouns and verbs; The other can tell you how to plant and dig potatoes and carrots and turnips. The one drums by the hour on the piano, making it a terror to the neighborhood; The other is an expert at the reaper and binder, which fills the world with good cheer. The one knows or has forgotten the higher trigonometry and the differential calculus; The other can calculate the bushels of rye standing in his field and the number of barrels to buy for the apples on the trees in his orchard. The one understands the chemical affinities of various poisonous acids and alkalies; The other can make a savory soup or a delectable pudding. The one sketches a landscape indifferently; The other can shingle his roof and build a shed for himself in a workman-like manner. The one has heard of Plato and Aristotle and Kant and Comte, but knows precious little about them; The other has never been troubled by such knowledge, but he will learn the first and last word of philosophy, “to love,” far quicker, I warrant you, than his college-bred neighbor. For still it is true that God hath hidden these things from the wise and prudent and revealed them unto babes. Such are the two educations: Which is the higher, and which the lower?[2]