In hunting, Indians are exceedingly industrious and indefatigable; but in every other employment they are very indolent. It is probably owing to the latter circumstance, that they suffer their women to be the hewers of wood, and the performers of other servile work among them. From this practice has, [59] probably, arisen the idea, that Indians treat their wives with severity.
The belief of the Tondanwandeys, relative to a future state, is very simple and interesting. The death of friends is one of the greatest trials of life; and is calculated to produce the happiest influence upon the human heart. It alienates our affections from this world, and directs them to the happy abode of departed spirits. The desire of meeting our friends in a better state of existence renders Heaven doubly dear to us; and combines at once the tenderness of affection, the hope of glory, and the fear of God. The poor Indian fears nothing so much as the permanent loss of his friends; and finding them in a better world constitutes, with him, the bliss of Heaven.
I continued at the Indian village until about noon of the next day. Before leaving it, I purchased a pair of deerskin moccasons. It having snowed the preceding night, my path through the wood was obliterated. After travelling a mile or two I became completely bewildered; and although I had a pocket compass with me, I thought it best to return to the village, and obtain some directions from the Indians; but as it was still snowing fast, my track in this direction could not, at length, be distinguished from the impression made by masses of snow, falling from the trees. I am unable to do justice to the solitude of my situation. It was profound and instructive. The force of thought and luxury of sentiment, which the wilderness inspires, is indiscribable. Here man feels, at once, humble and exalted. Silence, with a voice of thunder, maintains the cause of virtue, and the human soul experiences the tranquil ardour of immortal hopes.
Much exertion at length brought me to the place where, the evening before, I noticed the Indian [60] path. Having been plunging through the snow for some time, without taking any notice of my dogs, I found, when I stopped to rest, that one of them was missing. After waiting some time for his arrival, I went back about two miles, and found, him lying in the snow. As soon as I had come within a few rods of him, he arose and ran further from me, but at the same time appeared desirous of convincing me of his devotion, by smiles, and the wagging of his tail. By his manner he seemed to say: I wish to be faithful, but I am weary, and see no end to our travel. Lameness, however, was the cause of his discouragement. It appeared, that one of his feet was frozen.
In the course of a day or two from this time, I arrived in the neighbourhood of the Tuscarora Indians. They are situated on a ridge of hills, leading to which there are several very romantic passes. I visited them early in the morning. At this time the weather was very cold, and there was no path through the deep snow excepting some imperfect tracks made by themselves. In clambering up these hills, walking on the narrow footing of their sides, and supporting myself by the little bushes which had grown from the veins of the rocks, my mind dwelt upon Switzerland, and I almost imagined myself a Chamois hunter.
When I had come within view of the village, several Indians were about their wigwams, but upon seeing me, they all entered them, and shut the doors. The Tuscaroras, as well as the Tondanwandeys, had been sacrificing their dogs, and wearing their masks, and their imaginations, no doubt, were rather lively. But whatever may have been their impressions concerning me, they appeared, at first, very inhospitable. I went to the door of one of the huts, into which I saw several Indians enter, and knocked; [61] but all was silence. Not wishing to be obtrusive, I then went to another; and here, too, all was silence. I knew not what to make of these appearances, and thought that the Indians might be preparing to shoot me through the door; but feeling that I had, in a state of nature, at least an imperfect right to seek under one of their roofs a resting place or a drink of water, I opened the door and walked in. There were here several Indians, and they all appeared timid. By my manner, however, I soon convinced them of my pacific disposition; and they, at length, became a little sociable.
There is a missionary among the Tuscaroras; but I understand that he meets with much opposition from them. They, like other unchristianized men, point to the bad conduct of many of those, who have always possessed the light of revelation.—This argument is plausible; and, to them, it appears conclusive. In fact, however, it is very unsound. There are individuals among this tribe, who threaten the most bloody destruction upon those of their nation, who shall embrace the christian religion.
I may add, that we expect too much from savages, in relation to this subject. Before we attempt to make christians of them, we ought to make them rational men: we ought first to persuade them to adopt the manners and customs of civilization: we ought first to teach them the elements of literature. By these means their minds would become so enlarged and strengthened, as to enable them to understand the most plain and simple truths of the gospel; and in understanding they would appreciate them.
In endeavouring to instruct savages in religion without taking these previous steps, little or no success can rationally be expected. The narrowness of their views prevents them from understanding the force of its precepts; and therefore they will prefer [62] their own superstitions to what they consider ours. Savages, with respect to this subject, should be treated like little children; their letters should first be taught them, and then their catechism:—
“God sees from whole to part;