“I believe you are right, Baptiste; yet I have now studied my Delaware brother’s countenance and character for some time. I have seen him under the influence of strong, ay of deadly passion, and I truly wondered at his self–control; but there seems now to be a dull heavy load upon his spirit, as if it were overwhelmed.”
“Look at your feet this moment,” quoth the guide; “and tell me if, on this hard spot, you can trace the trail on which we are moving.”
“In truth I could not,” said Reginald, looking down; “I grant our friend’s sagacity in following it, but what has that to do with the state of his mind and temper, which we were discussing?”
“More, perhaps, than you think, Master Reginald. Along this very path the steps of Mahéga and his warriors have passed, the hoofs of the horse hearing Olitipa have trod it: it is now broad daylight, yet you can see nothing; do you wonder, then, that you cannot discern the trail of the thoughts and purposes that travel, in the dark, over the heart of the Delaware?”
“Baptiste,” said Reginald, smiling, “I knew that you were a skilful hunter, and an experienced woodsman; but I never before knew that you were a philosopher!”
“Nor I either, Master Reginald; but perhaps I may not be one after all. What is a philosopher?”
This blunt question from the sturdy guide, seemed somewhat puzzling to his young master: and the former continued, laughing, “Well, I suppose it’s some curious kind o’ crittur or other that we never heard of in the woods; and you don’t seem to have met it often yourself, or you’d not find it so hard to give a description of it!”
“You are right, Baptiste; it is a creature not very often met with, either in the woods or in civilised life; but as I have likened you to it, I am in duty bound to describe it to you as well as I can. A philosopher is a man whose desires are moderate, and his passions under due control; who can trace human actions to their real motives, and effects to their true causes; who can read the character of others without prejudice, and study his own without self–partiality; who can bear prosperity without pride, and adversity without repining;—such is my idea of a philosopher: the sketch is rough, but sufficient to give you some notion of the object in view.”
The guide was, silent for a few moments; he took off his hairy cap and twirled it several times round in his bony hands, as was his frequent custom when perplexed. At length he replied, “Well, Master Reginald, if that be what you call a philosopher, I’m sure War–Eagle is more like one than I am, and perhaps you’ll not take offence if I say that he is more like one than you are yourself: it comes natural to an Ingian to read his neighbour’s heart, and hide what passes in his own; and, as to governing his passions, I think you have seen enough to convince you that, although they were as hot and wild as was the horse which you bestride, they are now as obedient to the bridle as Nekimi.”
“I grant it,” said Reginald, reining in the proud steed alluded to in the guide’s illustration; “I grant it; and see how earnestly our Delaware friend is now bent upon his task; he has made a signal for the party to halt, and is stooping to examine a blade of grass, as if life itself depended upon his acute sagacity.”