To say he fights is, after all,
but to say he is a man; for whether it be in Polynesia or in Paris, in
the Saskatchewan or in Sweden, in Bundelond or in Bulgaria, fighting is
just the one universal "touch of nature which makes the whole world
kin."
"My good brothers," said a missionary friend of mine, some little while
ago, to an assemblage of Crees, "My good brothers--why do you carry on
this unceasing war with the Blackfeet and Peaginoos, with Sircies and
Bloods? It is not good, it is not right; the great Manitou does not like
his children to kill each other, but he wishes them to live in peace and
brotherhood."
To which the Cree chief made answer--"My friend, what you say is good;
but look, you are white man and Christian, we are red men and worship
the Manitou; but what is the news we hear from the traders and the
black-robes? Is it not always the news of war? The Kitchi Mokamans (i.e.
the Americans) are on the war-path against their brethren of the South,
the English are fighting some tribes far away over the big lake; the
French, and all the other tribes are fighting too! My brother, it is
news of war, always news of war! and we--we go on the war-path in small
numbers.
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