His 'arth, and he do what he please wid it. Nobody any right to
complain. Bad to find fault wid Great Spirit. All he do, right;
nebber do anyt'ing bad. His blessed Son die for all color, and all
color muss bow down at his holy name. Dat what dis good book say,"
showing a small pocket Bible, "and what dis good book say come from
Great Spirit, himself."
"You read the Holy Scriptures, then--you are an educated Indian?"
"No; can't read at all. Don't know how. Try hard, but too ole to
begin. Got young eyes, however, to help me," he added, with one of
the fondest smiles I ever saw light a human face, as he turned to
meet the pretty Dolly's "Good-morning, Peter," and to shake the hand
of the elder sister. "She read good book for old Injin, when he want
her; and when she off at school, in 'city,' den her mudder or her
gran'mudder read for him. Fuss begin wid gran'mudder; now get down
to gran'da'ghter. But good book all de same, let who will read it."
This, then, was "Scalping Peter," the very man I was travelling into
Michigan to see, but how wonderfully changed! The Spirit of the Most
High God had been shed freely upon his moral being, and in lieu of
the revengeful and vindictive savage, he now lived a subdued,
benevolent Christian! In every human being he beheld a brother, and
no longer thought of destroying races, in order to secure to his own
people the quiet possession of their hunting-grounds.
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