LEATHERSTOCKING TALES – Complete Collection. Джеймс Фенимор Купер

onlikely I am ever to talk with you ag’in. I’ve but little to say; but that little comes from long livin’ among your people, and from havin’ obsarved and noted their usages. The life of a woman is hard at the best, but I must own, though I’m not opinionated in favor of my own colour, that it is harder among the red men than it is among the pale-faces. This is a p’int on which Christians may well boast, if boasting can be set down for Christianity in any manner or form, which I rather think it cannot. Howsever, all women have their trials. Red women have their’n in what I should call the nat’ral way, while white women take ’em innoculated like. Bear your burthen, Hist, becomingly, and remember if it be a little toilsome, how much lighter it is than that of most Indian women. I know the Sarpent well — what I call cordially — and he will never be a tyrant to any thing he loves, though he will expect to be treated himself like a Mohican Chief. There will be cloudy days in your lodge I suppose, for they happen under all usages, and among all people, but, by keepin’ the windows of the heart open there will always be room for the sunshine to enter. You come of a great stock yourself, and so does Chingachgook. It’s not very likely that either will ever forget the sarcumstance and do any thing to disgrace your forefathers. Nevertheless, likin’ is a tender plant, and never thrives long when watered with tears. Let the ‘arth around your married happiness be moistened by the dews of kindness.”

      “My pale brother is very wise; Wah will keep in her mind all that his wisdom tells her.”

      “That’s judicious and womanly, Hist. Care in listening, and stout-heartedness in holding to good counsel, is a wife’s great protection. And, now, ask the Sarpent to come and speak with me, for a moment, and carry away with you all my best wishes and prayers. I shall think of you, Hist, and of your intended husband, let what may come to pass, and always wish you well, here and hereafter, whether the last is to be according to Indian idees, or Christian doctrines.”

      Hist shed no tear at parting. She was sustained by the high resolution of one who had decided on her course, but her dark eyes were luminous with the feelings that glowed within, and her pretty countenance beamed with an expression of determination that was in marked and singular contrast to its ordinary gentleness. It was but a minute ere the Delaware advanced to the side of his friend with the light, noiseless tread of an Indian.

      “Come this-a-way, Sarpent, here more out of sight of the women,” commenced the Deerslayer, “for I’ve several things to say that mustn’t so much as be suspected, much less overheard. You know too well the natur’ of furloughs and Mingos to have any doubts or misgivin’s consarnin’ what is like to happen, when I get back to the camp. On them two p’ints therefore, a few words will go a great way. In the first place, chief, I wish to say a little about Hist, and the manner in which you red men treat your wives. I suppose it’s accordin’ to the gifts of your people that the women should work, and the men hunt; but there’s such a thing as moderation in all matters. As for huntin’, I see no good reason why any limits need be set to that, but Hist comes of too good a stock to toil like a common drudge. One of your means and standin’ need never want for corn, or potatoes, or anything that the fields yield; therefore, I hope the hoe will never be put into the hands of any wife of yourn. You know I am not quite a beggar, and all I own, whether in ammunition, skins, arms, or calicoes, I give to Hist, should I not come back to claim them by the end of the season. This will set the maiden up, and will buy labor for her, for a long time to come. I suppose I needn’t tell you to love the young woman, for that you do already, and whomsoever the man ra’ally loves, he’ll be likely enough to cherish. Nevertheless, it can do no harm to say that kind words never rankle, while bitter words do. I know you’re a man, Sarpent, that is less apt to talk in his own lodge, than to speak at the Council Fire; but forgetful moments may overtake us all, and the practyse of kind doin’, and kind talkin’, is a wonderful advantage in keepin’ peace in a cabin, as well as on a hunt.”

      “My ears are open,” returned the Delaware gravely; “the words of my brother have entered so far that they never can fall out again. They are like rings, that have no end, and cannot drop. Let him speak on; the song of the wren and the voice of a friend never tire.”

      “I will speak a little longer, chief, but you will excuse it for the sake of old companionship, should I now talk about myself. If the worst comes to the worst, it’s not likely there’ll be much left of me but ashes, so a grave would be useless, and a sort of vanity. On that score I’m no way partic’lar, though it might be well enough to take a look at the remains of the pile, and should any bones, or pieces be found, ‘twould be more decent to gather them together, and bury them, than to let them lie for the wolves to gnaw at, and howl over. These matters can make no great difference in the mind, but men of white blood and Christian feelin’s have rather a gift for graves.”

      “It shall be done as my brother says,” returned the Indian, gravely. “If his mind is full, let him empty it in the bosom of a friend.”

      “I thank you, Sarpent; my mind’s easy enough; yes, it’s tolerable easy. Idees will come uppermost that I’m not apt to think about in common, it’s true, but by striving ag’in some, and lettin’ other some out, all will come right in the long run. There’s one thing, howsever, chief, that does seem to me to be onreasonable, and ag’in natur’, though the missionaries say it’s true, and bein’ of my religion and colour I feel bound to believe them. They say an Injin may torment and tortur’ the body to his heart’s content, and scalp, and cut, and tear, and burn, and consume all his inventions and deviltries, until nothin’ is left but ashes, and they shall be scattered to the four winds of heaven, yet when the trumpet of God shall sound, all will come together ag’in, and the man will stand forth in his flesh, the same creatur’ as to looks, if not as to feelin’s, that he was afore he was harmed!”

      “The missionaries are good men — mean well,” returned the Delaware courteously; “they are not great medicines. They think all they say, Deerslayer; that is no reason why warriors and orators should be all ears. When Chingachgook shall see the father of Tamenund standing in his scalp, and paint, and war lock, then will he believe the missionaries.”

      “Seein’ is believin’, of a sartainty; ahs! me — and some of us may see these things sooner than we thought. I comprehind your meanin’ about Tamenund’s father, Sarpent, and the idee’s a close idee. Tamenund is now an elderly man, say eighty every day of it, and his father was scalped, and tormented, and burnt, when the present prophet was a youngster. Yes, if one could see that come to pass, there wouldn’t be much difficulty in yieldin’ faith to all that the missionaries say. Howsever, I am not ag’in the opinion now, for you must know, Sarpent, that the great principle of Christianity is to believe without seeing, and a man should always act up to his religion and principles, let them be what they may.”

      “That is strange for a wise nation!” said the Delaware with emphasis. “The red man looks hard, that he may see and understand.”

      “Yes, that’s plauserble, and is agreeable to mortal pride, but it’s not as deep as it seems. If we could understand all we see, Sarpent, there might be not only sense, but safety, in refusin’ to give faith to any one thing that we might find oncomperhensible; but when there’s so many things about which it may be said we know nothin’ at all, why, there’s little use, and no reason, in bein’ difficult touchin’ any one in partic’lar. For my part, Delaware, all my thoughts haven’t been on the game, when outlyin’ in the hunts and scoutin’s of our youth. Many’s the hour I’ve passed, pleasantly enough too, in what is tarmed conterplation by my people. On such occasions the mind is actyve, though the body seems lazy and listless. An open spot on a mountain side, where a wide look can be had at the heavens and the ‘arth, is a most judicious place for a man to get a just idee of the power of the Manitou, and of his own littleness. At such times, there isn’t any great disposition to find fault with little difficulties, in the way of comperhension, as there are so many big ones to hide them. Believin’ comes easy enough to me at such times, and if the Lord made man first out of’arth, as they tell me it is written in the Bible; then turns him into dust at death; I see no great difficulty in the way to bringin’ him back in the body, though ashes be the only substance left. These things lie beyond our understandin’, though they may and do lie so close to our feelin’s. But, of all the doctrines, Sarpent,