Love of God’s Word.
OUR picture gives a likeness of a chief of the Crow-foot Indians, a tribe of the red men of North America, who live upon the Rocky Mountains and the adjoining plains. He is dressed in his finery of wild animals’ skins and eagles’ feathers, the plumes about his head proving to us that he is regarded as a brave man by his tribe; for the dandies and cowards dress in dyed goats’ skins, and ornament themselves with porcupine quills. Very many of the red men of America are still heathen; they are cruel and blood-thirsty; they know not that God is love, and think that revenge and murder are noble. Alas! many of the white men who live near the Indian territory are more wicked than their heathen neighbors, and instead of speaking to them of the God of love, they copy their treachery and cruelty, and outwit them in these things.
But here and there some of these poor heathen learn of Jesus. Some from every tribe and kindred shall stand before the throne of God and the Lamb. One of these red men, who loved the Word of God, was dying of consumption. During his illness he had learned to read and to prize the holy book; and here we may say the Indians are very apt in learning to read. A missionary to them says he taught an Indian girl her letters one Tuesday afternoon, and so quick was she, that by the following Sunday she could read words of several letters, and spell them without looking at her book.
When the young man was near death a priest of the Roman Catholic faith came to see him, for these priests instruct many of the Indians in Canada in the Christian religion. When the priest saw that the youth was intent upon the gospel, he snatched the book from the Indian’s hands, and threw it upon the fire, and then scolded the young man severely for daring to read it.
“The book was mine,” cried the Indian, “and you had no right to burn it.” The priest, seeing that the young man yielded neither to his authority nor his arguments, began to change his tone. “I was rash,” said he, “but never mind; I will give you a better book instead.” “And pray,” said the Indian, “what better book can you give me than that which tells me about the Saviour who died upon the cross to save my soul?”