MONSIEUR VIOLET (FISCLE PART-IV) by FREDERICK MARRYAT (leveled readers txt) 📕

Was This Loss, It Did Not Abate The Exertions Of Those Who Were Left.

Fields Were Immediately Cleared--Gardens Prepared; And By Degrees The

Memory Of This Sad Beginning Faded away Before The Prospect Of Future

Happiness And Comfort.

As Soon As We Were Completely Established, My Education Commenced. It

Was Novel, Yet Still Had Much Affinity To The Plan Pursued with The

Students Of The Military Colleges In france, Inasmuch As All My

Play-Hours Were Employed in the Hardier Exercises. To The Two Excellent

Missionaries I Owe Much, And With Them I Passed many Happy Hours.

We Had Brought A Very Extensive And Very Well Selected library With Us,

And Under Their Care I Soon Became Acquainted with The Arts And Sciences

Of Civilization; I Studied history Generally, And They Also Taught Me

Latin And Greek, And I Was Soon Master Of Many Of The Modern Languages.

And As My Studies Were Particularly Devoted to The History Of The

Ancient People Of Asia, To Enable Me To Understand Their Theories And

Follow Up Their Favourite Researches Upon The Origin Of The Great Ruins

In Western And Central America, The Slight Knowledge Which I Had Gained

At The Propaganda Of Arabic And Sanscrit Was Now Daily Increased.

Such Were My Studies With The Good Fathers; The Other Portion Of My

Education Was Wholly Indian. I Was Put Under The Charge Of A Celebrated

Old Warrior Of The Tribe, And From Him I Learned the Use Of The Bow, The

Tomahawk, And The Rifle; To Throw The Lasso, To Manage The Wildest

Horse, To Break In the Untamed colt; And Occasionally I Was Permitted

To Accompany Them In their Hunting and Fishing Excursions.

Thus For More Than Three Years Did I Continue To Acquire Knowledge Of

Various Kinds, While The Colony Gradually Extended its Fields, And There

Appeared to Be Every Chance Of Gradually Reclaiming The Wild Shoshones

To A More Civilized state Of Existence.

But "L'Homme Propose Et Dieu Dispose." Another Heavy Blow Fell Upon The

Prince, Which Eventually Proved the Ruin Of All His Hopes. After The

Loss Of The Vessel, We Had But Eight White Men In the Colony, Besides

The Missionaries And Ourselves; And The Prince, Retaining Only My

Father'S Old Servant, Determined upon Sending The Remainder To Purchase

The Cattle Which We Had Been So Anxious To Obtain.

They Departed on This Mission, But Never Returned. In all Probability,

They Were Murdered by The Apaches Indians; Although It Is Not Impossible

That, Tired of Our Simple And Monotonous Life, They Deserted us To

Establish Themselves In the Distant Cities Of Mexico.

This Second Catastrophy Weighed heavy Upon The Mind Of The Good Old

Prince. All His Hopes Were Dashed to The Ground--The Illusions Of The

Latter Part Of His Life Were Destroyed for Ever. His Proudest

Expectations Had Been To Redeem His Savage Friends From Their Wild Life,

And This Could Only Be Effected by Commerce And Agriculture.

The Farms Round The Settlement Had For Now Nearly Four Years Been Tilled

By The Squaws And Young Indians, Under The Direction Of The White Men;

And Although The Occupation Was By No Means Congenial To Their Nature,

The Prince Had Every Anticipation That With Time And Example, The

Shoshones Would Perceive The Advantages, And Be Induced to Till The Land

For Themselves.

Before Our Arrival, The Winter Was Always A Season Of Great Privation To

That Portion Of The Indians Who Could Not Repair To The Hunting Grounds;

While Now, Indian Corn, Potatoes, And Other Vegetables Were In plenty,

At Least For Those Who Dwelt Near To The Settlement. But Now That We Had

Lost All Our White Cultivators And Mechanics, We Soon Found That The

Indians Avoided the Labour.

All Our Endeavours Proved useless: The Advantages Had Not Yet Been

Sufficiently Manifest: The Transition Attempted had Been Too Short; And

The Good, Although Proud And Lazy, Shoshones Abandoned the Tillage, And

Relapsed into Their Former Apathy And Indifference.

Mortified at This Change, The Prince And My Father Resolved to Make An

Appeal To The Whole Nation, And Try To Convince Them How Much Happier

They Would Be If They Would Cultivate The Ground For Their Support. A

Great Feast Was Given, The Calumet Was Smoked; After Which The Prince

Rose And Addressed them After Their Own Fashion. As I Had, A Short Time

Previous, Been Admitted as A Chief And Warrior, I, Of Course, Was

Present At The Meeting. The Prince Spoke:--

"Do You Not Want To Become The Most Powerful Nation Of The West? You Do.

If Then Such Is The Case, You Must Ask Assistance From The Earth, Which

Is Your Mother. True, You Have Prairies Abounding In game, But The

Squaws And The Children Cannot Follow Your Path When Hunting.

"Are Not The Crows, The Bannaxas, The Flat Heads, And The Umbiquas,

Starving During The Winter? They Have No Buffalo In their Land, And But

Few Deer. What Have They To Eat? A Few Lean Horses, Perchance A Bear;

And The Stinking Flesh Of The Otter Or Beaver They May Entrap During

The Season.

"Would They Not Be Too Happy To Exchange Their Furs Against The Corn,

The Tobacco, And Good Dried fish Of The Shoshones? Now They Sell Their

Furs To The Yankees, But The Yankees Bring Them No Food. The Flat Heads

Take The Fire-Water And Blankets From The Traders, But They Do So

Because They Cannot Get Anything Else, And Their Packs Of Furs Would

Spoil If They Kept Them.

"Would They Not Like Better To Barter Them With You, Who Are So Near To

Them, For Good Food To Sustain Them And Their Children During The

Winter--- To Keep Alive Their Squaws And Their Old Men During The Long

Snow And The Dreary Moons Of Darkness And Gloom?

"Now If The Shoshones Had Corn And Tobacco To Give For Furs, They Would

Become Rich. They Would Have The Best Saddles From Mexico, And The Best

Rifles From The Yankees, The Best Tomahawks And Blankets From The

Canadians. Who Then Could Resist The Shoshones? When They Would Go

Hunting, Hundreds Of The Other Natives Would Clear For Them The Forest

Path, Or Tear With Their Hands The Grass Out Of Their Track In the

Prairie. I Have Spoken."

All The Indians Acknowledged that The Talk Was Good And Full Of Wisdom:

But They Were Too Proud To Work. An Old Chief Answered for The

Whole Tribe.

"Nanawa Ashta Is A Great Chief: He Is A Brave! The Manitou Speaks Softly

To His Ears, And Tells Him The Secret Which Makes The Heart Of A Warrior

Big Or Small; But Nanawa Has A Pale Face--His Blood Is A Strange Blood,

Although His Heart Is Ever With His Red friends. It Is Only The White

Manitou That Speaks To Him, And How Could The White Manitou Know The

Nature Of The Indians? He Has Not Made Them; He Don'T Call Them To Him;

He Gives Them Nothing; He Leaves Them Poor And Wretched; He Keeps All

For The Pale Faces.

"It Is Right He Should Do So. The Panther Will Not Feed the Young Of The

Deer, Nor Will The Hawk Sit Upon The Eggs Of The Dove. It Is Life, It Is

Order, It Is Nature. Each Has His Own To Provide For And No More. Indian

Corn Is Good; Tobacco Is Good, It Gladdens The Heart Of The Old Men When

They Are In sorrow; Tobacco Is The Present Of Chiefs To Chiefs. The

Calumet Speaks Of War And Death; It Discourses Also Of Peace And

Friendship. The Manitou Made The Tobacco Expressly For Man--It Is Good.

"But Corn And Tobacco Must Be Taken From The Earth; They Must Be Watched

For Many Moons, And Nursed like Children. This Is Work Fit Only For

Squaws And Slaves. The Shoshones Are Warriors And Free; If They Were To

Dig In the Ground, Their Sight Would Become Weak, And Their Enemies

Would Say They Were Moles And Badgers.

"Does The Just Nanawa Wish The Shoshones To Be Despised by The Crows Or

The Horsemen Of The South? No! He Had Fought For Them Before He Went To

See If The Bones Of His Fathers Were Safe; And Since His Return, Has He

Not Given To Them Rifles And Powder, And Long Nets To Catch The Salmon,

And Plenty Of Iron To Render Their Arrows Feared alike By The Buffaloes

And The Umbiquas?

"Nanawa Speaks Well, For He Loves His Children: But The Spirit That

Whispers To Him Is A Pale-Face Spirit, That Cannot See Under The Skin Of

A Red warrior; It Is Too Tough: Nor In his Blood; It Is Too Dark.

"Yet Tobacco Is Good, And Corn Too. The Hunters Of The Flat Heads And

Pierced noses Would Come In winter To Beg For It; Their Furs Would Make

Warm The Lodges Of The Shoshones. And My People Would Become Rich And

Powerful; They Would Be Masters Of All The Country, From The Salt Waters

To The Big Mountains; The Deer Would Come And Lick Their Hands, And The

Wild Horses Would Graze Around Their Wigwams. 'Tis So That The Pale

Faces Grow Rich And Strong; They Plant Corn, Tobacco, And Sweet Melons;

They Have Trees That Bear Figs And Peaches; They Feed swine And Goats,

And Tame Buffaloes. They Are A Great People.

"A Red-Skin Warrior Is Nothing But A Warrior; He Is Strong, But He Is

Poor; He Is Not A Wood-Chunk, Nor A Badger, Nor A Prairie Dog; He Cannot

Dig The Ground; He Is A Warrior, And Nothing More. I Have Spoken."

Of Course The Tenor Of This Speech Was Too Much In harmony With Indian

Ideas Not To Be Received with Admiration. The Old Man Took His Seat,

While Another Rose To Speak In his Turn.

"The Great Chief Hath Spoken; His Hair Is White Like The Down Of The

Swan; His Winters Have Been Many; He Is Wise; Why Should I Speak After

Him, His Words Were True? The Manitou Touched my Ears And My Eyes When

He Spoke (And He Spoke Like A Warrior); I Heard His War-Cry, I Saw The

Umbiquas Running In the Swamps, And Crawling Like Black Snakes Under The

Bushes. I Spied thirty Scalps On His Belt, His Leggings And Mocassins

Were Sewn With The Hair Of The Wallah Wallahs[1].

[Footnote 1: Indians Living On The Columbian River, Two Hundred miles

Above Fort Vancouver, Allied to The Nez Perces, And Great Supporters Of

The Americans.]

"I Should Not Speak; I Am Young Yet And Have No Wisdom; My Words Are

Few, I Should Not Speak. But In my Vision I Heard A Spirit, It Came Upon

The Breeze, It Entered within Me.

"Nanawa Is My Father, The Father To All, He Loves Us, We Are His

Children; He Has Brought With Him A Great Warrior Of The Pale Faces, Who

Was A Mighty Chief In his Tribe; He Has Given Us A Young Chief Who Is A

Great Hunter; In a Few Years He Will Be A Great Warrior, And Lead Our

Young Men In the War-Path On The Plains Of The Wachinangoes[2], For

Owato Wanisha[3] Is A Shoshone, Though His Skin Is Paler Than The

Flower Of The Magnolia.

[Footnote 2: Name Given To The Half-Breeds By The Spaniards, But By

Indians Comprehending The Whole Mexican Race.]

[Footnote 3: The "Spirit Of The Young Beaver;" A Name Given To Me When I

Was Made A Warrior.]

"Nanawa Has Also Given To Us Two Makota Konayas[4], To Teach Wisdom To

Our Young Men; Their Words Are Sweet, They Speak To The Heart; They Know

Everything and Make Men Better. Nanawa Is A Great Chief, Very Wise; What

He Says Is Right, What He Wishes Must Be Done, For He Is Our Father, And

He Gave Us Strength To Fight Our Enemies."

[Footnote 4: Two Priests, Literally Two Black Gowns.]

"He Is Right; The Shoshones Must Have Their Lodges Full Of Corn And

Tobacco. The Shoshones Must Ever Be What They Are, What They Were, A

Great Nation. But The Chief Of Many Winters Hath Said It; The Hedge-Hogs

And The Foxes May Dig The Earth, But The Eyes Of The Shoshones Are

Always Turned towards Their Enemies In the Woods, Or The Buffaloes In

The Plains."

"Yet The Will Of Nanawa Must Be Done, But Not By A Shoshone. We Will

Give Him Plenty Of Squaws And Dogs; We Will Bring Him Slaves From The

Umbiquas, The Cayuses, And The Wallah Wallahs. They Shall Grow The Corn

And The Tobacco While We Hunt; While We Go To Fetch More Slaves, Even In

The Big Mountains, Or Among The Dogs Of The South, The Wachinangoes. I

Will Send The Vermilion[5] To My Young Warriors, They Will Paint Their

Faces And Follow Me On The War-Path. I Have Spoken!"

[Footnote 5: When A Chief Wishes To Go To War, He Sends To His Warriors

Some Leaves Of Tobacco Covered with Vermilion. It Is A Sign That They

Must