Peter took the little volume, which the missionary extended as if
inviting any one who might so please, to examine it also. It was the
first time the wary chief had ever suffered that mysterious book to
touch him. Among his other speculations on the subject of the manner
in which the white men were encroaching, from year to year, on the
lands of the natives, it had occurred to his mind that this
extraordinary volume, which the pale-faces all SEEMED to reverence,
even to the drunkards of the garrisons, might contain the great
elements of their power. Perhaps he was not very much out of the way
in this supposition; though they who use the volume habitually, are
not themselves aware, one-half the time, why it is so.
On the present occasion, Peter saw the great importance of not
betraying apprehension, and he turned over the pages awkwardly, as
one would be apt to handle a book for the first time, but boldly and
without hesitation. Encouraged by the impunity that accompanied this
hardihood, Peter shook the leaves open, and held the volume on high,
in a way that told his own people that he cared not for its charms
or power. There was more of seeming than of truth, however, in this
bravado; for never before had this extraordinary being made so heavy
a draft on his courage and self-command, as in the performance of
this simple act.
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