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that it may be rocked by the breezes from the land of
souls, and soothed to sleep by the lullaby of the birds.
Does the mother die, the nursling—such is Indian
Relation 1656, 1657, p. 179. |
compassion-shares her grave.
On quitting the cradle, the children are left nearly naked in the cabin, to grow hardy, and learn the use of their limbs.
Juvenile sports are the same every where; children invent them for themselves; and the traveller, who finds every where in the wide world the same games, may rightly infer, that the Father of the
great human family himself instructs the innocence of childhood in its amusements.
There is no domestic government; the young do as they will.
They are never earnestly reproved, injured, or beaten; a dash of cold water in the face is their heaviest punishment.
If they assist in the labors of the household, it is as a pastime, not as a charge.
Yet they show respect to the chiefs, and defer with docility to those of their cabin.
The attachment of savages to their offspring is extreme; and they cannot bear separation from
them.
Hence every attempt at founding schools for their children was a failure: a missionary would gather a little flock about him, and of a sudden, writes Le
June, ‘my birds flew away.’
From their insufficient and irregular supplies of clothing and food, they learn to endure hunger and rigorous seasons; of themselves they become fleet of foot, and skilful in swimming; their courage is nursed by tales respecting their ancestors, till they burn with a love of glory to be acquired by valor and address.
So soon as the child can grasp the bow and arrow, they are in his hand; and, as there was joy in the wigwam at his birth, and his first cutting of a tooth, so a festival is kept for his earliest success in the chase.
The Indian young man is educated
