“ELSIE, Elsie, where are you?" The voice was that of our young friend Archie, and in a few moments his sister appeared, work-basket in hand.
“Here I am, Archie, quite at your disposal till tea time.”
“I am very glad, Elsie, for I have been thinking of something I want to ask you about. Mark Lamb once lent me a book I found very interesting. I cannot quite remember its title, but it was an account of an Indian boy. I think he was the son of a chief or great warrior, and though he was not more than twelve or thirteen years of age, he was very clever at fishing, hunting, and knew how to ride on horseback without either a saddle or bridle. What part of India do you-think he lived in?”
“The Indian boy, whose story so interested you, was a native of North America. But I am not surprised by your question, as I remember, when a little girl, getting quite into a puzzle when trying to learn the difference between the people of India proper and the Red, or as they are often called, the North American Indians.”
“Please tell me all you can about them. But why are they called Red Indians?”
“From the color of their skins; they are not black like negroes, or pale like those of the people who live in cold countries, but almost the color of copper. The men are tall, and many of them very fine-looking, though I think we should admire them more without the streaks of red, black, and yellow paint of which they are so fond. The number of Red Indians is not nearly so large as it once was. Soon after the discovery of America a great many Spaniards and traders in fur, skins, etc., from other countries went to live there, and little by little the poor Indians were either killed or driven into the thick woods with which great part of their country is covered. But I must tell you something about the way in which an Indian boy spends his time. When he was quite a baby, not old enough to walk, or even stand alone, his mother always took him with her when she went to work in the fields. She did not carry him in her arms, or even on her shoulder, but put him into such a strange-looking kind of cradle, not at all like the soft, dainty-looking bassinettes in which you have seen babies laid to sleep. The cradle of the Indian baby, or papoose, as it is called, is only a piece of flat wood with a smaller piece at one end for the baby's feet to rest upon. Small hoops of wood pass round the infant, and so keep it from falling. One of these hoops is just large enough to go round the head of the mother, and in this way day after day she will carry her child. When her work in the field is done, she will put baby, cradle and all, down in the wigwam or hut, in which she lives, in such a way that the little one looks as if it were standing up. Then she will unfasten one of the wooden hoops, and baby is able to get at its playthings, a string of small coins or pretty shells that hang down from the hoop that keeps its head in place. The Indian baby does not cry much, but is generally very contented and happy.
“Sometimes an Indian woman may be seen carrying about a cradle with no baby in it, only a quantity of black feathers. If you understood her language and could ask her why she acted so strangely, she would tell you that her dear little red-skinned baby had died before he was old enough to leave his cradle. She will carry it about for a long time, often for a whole year, and will talk to the cradle just as if, the baby were in it; for the medicine man has told her that the spirit or soul of her child is very near, and when it gets tired it can rest upon the soft feathers.
“Perhaps the poor Indian mother has never heard of the Lord Jesus Christ and His love to little children. Some years ago, Christian teachers from England and America went to live among the Red Indians; schools were opened, and many young people were taught in them.
“One very devoted servant of the Lord, whose name was John Elliott, set about a very hard but important work. He wanted to give the Red Indians the precious word of God in their own language. But at first he could not see how this was to be done, for the poor people had no books, and not even the chief, who was much looked up to and thought quite a rich man, had ever written or received a letter.
“But Mr. Elliott felt quite sure that the God whom he served was able to give him all the wisdom and patience he needed.
'Prayer and praise through Christ Jesus can do all things,' were words often on his lips, and evening after evening, and often far into the night, the missionary might have been seen sitting at his desk writing down every word he could remember having heard the Indians use during the day. It must sometimes have seemed very slow work, but in time he was able to write out a dictionary and grammar, and with their help he set to work to translate first the Gospels and afterward the whole Bible. It must have taken a long time, and when at last all was ready, as he knew the Indians would need more Bibles than he could write out for them, even if he lived to be a very old man, he was obliged to send his precious sheets to England in order to have them printed.”
“Oh, Elsie, I am glad the Red Indians have the Bible in their own language. But please tell me more about the small boy. How long is he carried about in this strange cradle?”
“Only till he is a few months old. Then his mother takes him out of it and lets him play and roll about on the grass or on the floor of the wigwam.”
“What is a wigwam like, Elsie?”
“A wigwam is a large hut or tent made by driving poles into the ground and then stretching tanned hides or skins of the buffalo in such a way as to form walls. Sometimes the wigwam is very large, so that quite a number of Indians are able to live in it. Now and then a solitary wigwam is reared by a hunter near some spot where he knows there are sure to be plenty of the kind of game he wants to kill. But generally several wigwams are built in a circle, and a clear space something like a playground is left in the center. The men are very fond of playing at ball, and often enjoy a game, the boys being only allowed to look on.
“When an Indian boy is old enough he will have, instead of shells or beads, a small bow and some arrows, in the use of which he soon becomes quite expert. He will also learn to swim and to catch fish.
“Indians spend much of their time on horseback, and as his father knows he will not become a good horseman if he does not begin young, he will often take his son to ride with him. Mothers in England would, I think, be quite alarmed if they could see the way in which an Indian boy keeps his seat on the back of a horse going at full speed, the rider often having to lay hold of the mane or ears of the animal to save himself from falling.
“Sometimes the boy will listen with great interest to the tales of the old men. He likes to hear them talk about the battles they have fought, and count up the number of enemies they have killed. How he wishes he was only old enough to take his place among the warriors or fighting-men of his tribe!”
“Will he have to wait very long?”
“Till he is fifteen years of age; but the time comes at last, and he goes to the grown-up men and tells them how much he wishes to take his place among them. But the warriors are in no hurry to receive him as one of themselves.
“They shake their heads, and say with grave looks, ‘We are brave men, we are strong and able to fight; but you are only a boy.'
."But as the youth is very anxious to become a warrior, he will tell them that he can ride, fish, and hunt well. Perhaps he knows how to throw the lasso.
“A lasso is a long strap made of very soft leather, with a loop or noose at one end. The Red Indians are very clever in the use of the lasso. A hunter riding at full speed will often throw his lasso round the neck of a wild horse, in such a way as to entangle without killing it; he is then able to lead it away, and when he has tamed it, it becomes of very great use to him.
“At last the old men seem to be satisfied, and tell the boy he may go and ask the Great Spirit to show him where he will find his medicine bag.
“Although the Red Indians have a Bible in their own language, I am sorry to have to tell you that many of them are not Christians. Some of them live so far from any school or Christian teacher, that they know very little indeed about the Lord Jesus and the sweet story of His love.
“Then the Indian boy goes away from all his friends to some lonely cave among the woods. He means to stay there a long time—three or perhaps even four days—but he does not take anything to eat with him, for during all that time he must not taste any food, or even have a drink of water all the time he is in the cave. He knows he will get very hungry and thirsty, but has made up his mind to bear hunger and thirst bravely. The poor boy thinks his long fast will please the Great Spirit. As the time passes slowly away, the youth does not feel so very hungry as he did on the first day: he is getting too weak and faint to care much about food. Sometimes he sleeps for a little time, and when at last he dreams of a horse, a buffalo, or some other animal, then he is very glad, for he thinks the Great Spirit has spoken to him, and, sick and faint as he must be, he leaves the cave and returns to his wigwam. His friends are very glad to see him, and his mother has plenty of food ready for him, so he makes a hearty meal, and when he has rested for a little while, he goes to hunt for the kind of animal he saw in his dream. When he has found and killed it, he will make part of its skin into a small bag, of which he will take very great care, and always bear on his person. He thinks it will keep away evil spirits and prevent any one from killing or wounding him. A Red Indian will not sell his medicine bag, as it is called. Only one thing can, I believe, make him willing to part with it—the love of Christ. When an Indian becomes a Christian, he will often give his medicine bag to the mission teacher, saying, ‘I do not want it any longer, for the Lord Jesus, in whom I trust, is able to take care of me.'
“But as I see by the clock our time is quite gone, some other things I think you would like to hear about, such as life in a wigwam among the Red Indians, must stand over till our next talk.”