A long and profound silence followed this speech; after which Paul Müller, approaching the mound, desired that the body might be lowered into the grave: when this was done, he addressed first the Delawares, setting forth the virtues of the deceased chieftain, and laying the greatest stress upon those which were of a more mild and peaceful character. He touched also most feelingly upon the occasion on which he had received the injuries from which he died; assuring the Delawares that no length of time, nor changes of life, would ever efface from the memory of Prairie–bird, or those to whom she was so dear, the devoted heroism of her deliverer. “But, my beloved brothers,” said he in conclusion, “great as was the gift that he gave to her, even his life for hers, he received from her a gift much greater; for it is my humble hope and belief, that through her entreaty and prayer, his eyes were open to see things that he had never seen before; and, having once seen their riches and their beauty, he desired that you, my brothers, should see them too. He learnt what, I fear, you cannot yet understand,—that it is the will of the Great Spirit that we should observe and study His works, and copy them. Is it true, my friends? Is there sense in my words?”
He paused for a reply. The elder Delawares looked at each other, and then, as if by mutual consent, nodded their assent.
The missionary continued:—“Well, then, the Great Spirit is merciful and just, kind and forgiving; loving peace and hating strife. How do we try to please him? By hating peace, and being swift to shed blood; by revenging where we ought to forgive, and dealing harshly by those on whom we ought to have mercy. The Osages who are just gone are wicked men; they have been guilty of treachery and cruelty; and you are disappointed that you were not permitted to kill them, and that Wingenund sent them away unhurt. They have been wicked, far more wicked, towards the Great Spirit; they have disobeyed His commands, despised His laws, destroyed the creatures of His hand, and have insulted Him and braved His anger for weeks, for months, and years! How has He treated them? He has given them water from His clouds, and has brought the herds of bison to their hunting–ground, and has given the sun to warm them by day, and the moon and stars to light their path by night? And if even now one of them—nay, the very worst among them, were to have his heart softened, and to turn to the Great Spirit, and to say, ‘My Father, in heaven, I am sorry for all the wrong that I have done, O forgive and guide me, for I wish to do so no more!’ it is written in that book, by the hand of the Great Spirit himself, that He would forgive that sorrowful man, and bless him, and turn the bitterness of his heart into gladness and joy sweeter than honey! These things, my dear brothers, are not learnt in a day; but, I thank God that by his blessing, and the affectionate and patient labours of Olitipa, the eyes of War–Eagle were opened to see them; and he desired that those whom he most loved should see and feel them like himself. We will now take our last farewell of him on earth, after the manner of those who love, fear, and obey the word of the Father of us all.”
Having thus spoken, the worthy missionary knelt by the side of the newly filled grave, and concluded the solemnities of the occasion by an affecting prayer in the English tongue; Reginald, Ethelston, and all the hunters and woodsmen, kneeling uncovered, and finally joining in that perfect model of supplication taught by the Redeemer himself to those who, in whatever age or clime, are called by His name.
Having paid these last honours to their departed friend, the leaders of the party withdrew to make the proposed arrangements for striking the camp on the following morning, and for settling the line and order of march.
The Delawares lingered for some time, as if unwilling to leave the remains of their beloved chief, and at length slowly retired, one by one, until there remained only our old friend Baptiste and a veteran Delaware, who, from his feats of hardihood, and the stern fierceness of his nature, was generally known by the name of Stony–heart.
“Grand–Hâche,” said the latter, addressing his companion, “it may be all very good what the Black Father says, but Stony–heart does not understand it. When War–Eagle said that the Lenapé should not kill those who had taken the scalps of their warriors or of their women, the Mad Spirit must have got into his brain! Stony–heart has seen many winters, and has heard the talk of the wise men in council, but he never heard such words as these.”
It must be confessed that Baptiste was not in his heart a very strong advocate for the doctrine of forgiveness; we have already seen in a former chapter that he was rather disposed to favour the Indian law of retaliation; he answered, however, on this occasion cautiously.
“Stony–heart speaks true; yet he must remember that War–Eagle only desired that his Lenapé brothers should hear what the Black Father had to say on this matter; they can then decide whether his words are idle or not. It will be easier for him to persuade the young than men who like us have known for forty winters that the custom of the woods, and of the prairie, is life for life, and scalp for scalp!”
“It will,” rejoined the other; “and Grand–Hâche will see that no good will follow from having spared the lives of those four Washashee dogs.”