I was glad to leave the scene, and turn towards the house of the Rev.
Mr. Pond, who lives near the spot where the feast was celebrated. Here,
pursuing his duties and studies, does this excellent man improve every
moment of his time to the advantage of the Sioux. Always ready to
converse kindly with them in order to gain their confidence--giving
medicine to the sick, and food to the hungry; doing all that lies in his
power to administer to their temporal comfort, he labors to improve
their condition as a people. How can it better be done than by
introducing the Christian religion among them? This the missionaries are
gradually doing; and did they receive proper assistance from government,
and from religious societies, they would indeed go on their way
rejoicing.
Placed under the government of the United States, these helpless,
unhappy beings are dependent upon us for the means of subsistence, in a
measure, and how much more for the knowledge of the true God? Churches
will soon rise where the odious feast and medicine dance are celebrated,
but will the Indians worship there? When the foundations of these
churches are laid, the bones of the original owners of the country will
be thrown out--but where will be the souls of those who were thrust out
of their country and their rights to make way for us?
I have seen where literally two or three were met together--where in a
distant country the few who celebrated the death of the Redeemer were
assembled--where the beautiful service of our church was read, and the
hearts that heard it responded to its animating truths.
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