"The results," said the minister, "furnish, I fear, little encouragement for the future. Unless divine grace shall manifest itself in a more signal manner than has heretofore been vouchsafed, they seemed destined to die in their sins."
"Is there, then, no escape from a doom so horrible?" inquired the low voice of Mr. Armstrong. "After being hunted from their ancient possessions, and denied even the graves of their fathers, must they perish everlastingly?"
"Can the clay say to the potter, 'What doest thou?'" said Mr.
Robinson. "He maketh one vessel to honor and another to dishonor.
Repeated attempts have been made to civilize and Christianize them,
but in vain. Whom He will He hardeneth."
Mr. Armstrong sighed, and another sigh, so low it was unheard, stole from the bosom of his daughter.
"You are speaking of the Indians?" inquired the doctor.
"Yes," said Mr. Robinson, "and of the failure of all attempts by
Christians to ameliorate their condition."
"And are you surprised it should be so?" inquired the doctor.
"The ways of Providence are inscrutable," replied Mr. Robinson. "I pretend not to explain the reasons why they are deaf to the pleadings of the Gospel."
"What," cried the doctor, slightly altering his favorite author, "'hath not an Indian eyes? Hath not an Indian hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If an Indian wrong a Christian, what is his humility? revenge; if a Christian wrong an Indian, what should his sufferance be, by Christian example? why, revenge.' There, you have the whole in a nut-shell."
"In addition to the difficulty growing out of their treatment by the whites, suggested by the doctor," said the Judge, "there is another, which I consider insuperable, arising out of a difference of race."