"The Indian knows the habits of the beaver; he can follow the paths
of the forests; he can guide his canoe through the foaming rapids;
he is honest, he is brave, he is great; but he is not wise. His
wisdom is clouded with the original sin. He lives in idleness; he
paints his face; he makes his squaw labor for him, instead of
laboring for her; he kills his brothers. He worships the trees and
rocks. If he were wise he would not make gods of the swift arrow and
bounding canoe; of the flowering ash and the flaming flint. For
these things have not life. In his dreams he sees his arrow speed to
the reeling deer; in his dreams he sees his canoe shoot over the
crest of shining waves; and in his mind he gives them life. When his
eyes are opened he will see they have no spirit. The spirit is in
his own heart. It guides the arrow to the running deer, and steers
the canoe over the swirling current. The spirit makes him find the
untrodden paths, and do brave deeds, and love his children and his
honor. It makes him meet his foe face to face, and if he is to die
it gives him strength to die--a man. The spirit is what makes him
different from the arrow, the canoe, the mountain, and all the birds
and beasts. For it is born of the Great Spirit, the creator of all.
Him you must worship.
"Redmen, this worship is understanding your spirit and teaching it
to do good deeds.
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