“My friends—We know that the Great Spirit made the red men to dwell in the forests, and white men to live in green fields and in fine houses; and we believe that we shall live separate in the world to come. The best that we expect or want in a future state is a clear sky and beautiful hunting-grounds, where we expect to meet the friends whom we loved; and we believe that if we speak the truth we shall go there. This we think might not suit white people, and therefore we believe that their religion is best for them.
“If we follow the religion of our fathers we shall meet them again: if we follow a different religion we are not sure of it.
“My friends—We are here but a few, and we are a great way from our homes, and we shall have but little time to waste in talking on this subject. When a few white men come into our country to make money, we don’t ask them to take up our religion. We are here away from our wives and children to try to get some money for them, and there are many things we can take home to them of much more use than white man’s religion. Give us guns and ammunition, that we can kill food for them, and protect them from our enemies, and keep whisky and rum sellers out of our country.
“My friends—We love you, and give you our hands; but we wish to follow the religion of our fathers, and would rather not talk any more on the subject.” (‘How, how, how!’)
When the old man had thus closed his remarks, Gish-ee-gosh-ee-gee took the pipe and puffed away a few minutes as hard as he could, when he spoke as follows:—
“My friends—The words of our chief, which you have just heard, are good—they are the words of nearly all of our nation. Some of the Ojibbeways say that the words of the white people are the best; but we believe that they have two tongues.
“My friends—A few years ago a black-coat came amongst us in the town where I live, and told us the same words as you have spoken this morning. He said that the religion of the white men was the only good religion; and some began to believe him, and after a while a great many believed him; and then he wanted us to help build him a house; and we did so. We lifted very hard at the logs to put up his house, and when it was done many sent their children to him to learn to read, and some girls got so as to read the ‘good book,’ and their fathers were very proud of it; and at last one of these girls had a baby, and not long after it another had a baby, and the black-coat then ran away, and we have never seen him since. My friends, we don’t think this right. I believe there is another black-coat now in the same house. Some of the Indians send their boys there to learn to read, but they dare not let their girls go.
“My friends, this is all I have to say.” (‘How, how, how!’)
The reverend gentlemen kindly thanked the Indians for their patience, and, telling me that it would be cruel and useless, under their present circumstances, to question them longer, thanked Mr. Rankin and myself for the kind assistance we had rendered them, and retired, leaving with them as a present several very handsome Bibles. As I was leaving the room I heard the old chief complaining that talking made his lips very dry, and Mr. Rankin ordered for them a jug of chickabobboo.[11]