The Manitou Voices.
It was the hour when good boys, with cheerful hearts and innocent
thoughts, are wont to rise to the cheerful duties and innocent pleasures
of the day, that Sprigg was awakened from a sweet dream of home by a
voice close beside him, which came to him like his mother's gentle
morning call. He opened his eyes, but could see nothing, save a dense,
red mist, bright and luminous, yet as impenetrable to sight as the
blackest darkness. But when, on reaching out his hand, he had felt the
moss and grass of the bed he lay on, and the hairy coats of the bears he
lay with, then knew he but too well that his sweet thoughts of home--his
mother's gentle morning call, his father's jolly laugh, and Pow-wow's
loud, heroic bark--were all an empty dream. And yet, hardly more assured
was he that what his senses were insisting on telling him were not
things just as empty and unsubstantial.
What the voice was saying when it woke him, the boy could not recall,
but it left a feeling in his heart as if pitying tenderness had been the
burden of the words it had spoken. Tones were still lingering in his
ear, and with effect so soothing that he should probably have fallen
asleep again; but in answer to it he heard another voice, so abrupt and
stern that he started up wide awake, and, in an instant, was all
attention. What passed between the invisible speakers, whom we shall
distinguish as the "Stern Voice" and the "Soft Voice," ran, word for
word, as follows:
Stern Voice. "He must run the Manitou race."
Soft Voice. "Is that terrible ordeal his only chance?"
Stern Voice. "It is. Though so young, his heart is already so proud and
deceitful and hard that we must all but break it, to bring it to the
good for which it is destined, and of which it is capable."
Soft Voice. "But he can hardly as yet have strayed so far from good as
to need so severe an experience for bringing him back. There were tears
on his face last night when he fell asleep--soft, sweet tears--and there
are fresh ones upon it now. May not these plead for him?"
Stern Voice. "True, there is something of human affection in these
tears. But apart from this, they are shed, not in contrition for the
sinfulness of his course, but in grief for the pitiful plight to which
it has brought him. Being the tears of self-pity, and not of repentance,
they are not the kind to divert us from our fixed purpose--that purpose,
our highest duty."
Soft Voice. "But, then, he is so young yet!"
Stern Voice. "But, then, he is so bad already!"
Soft Voice. "But, bethink you, how much it lacks of being wholly his
own fault? Indeed, he is scarcely at all responsible for being what he
is, and it seems hard that he should be made to suffer for the folly of
others."
Stern Voice. "That is very true; and just there is represented to us a
mystery, not ours to fathom! We are the Manitous of the Great Spirit,
and what he bids be done, he bids uncounseled, and would have done
unquestioned. They, who reared this boy to be the false young self we
find him, should and shall be made to suffer, also; and even more than
he, though the fond love and the indulgent kindness with which they have
spoiled him, and thereby wronged him, be never so tender and unselfish.
Having so erred, they must be made to feel the consequences of their
error, to be made sensible of its sinfulness; and thus, through
suffering, brought to a knowledge of the duty they owe their maker,
their offspring and themselves. So, then, what we propose doing, or,
rather, what we are charged to execute, shall redound to their good no
less than his."
Soft Voice. "But may we not postpone the trial for a season, till he be
stronger to endure it?"
Stern Voice. "Then shall he have but the more to endure and the less to
be hoped for. Thus, 'by and by,' might be too late, when 'now' is none
too soon; and the hope of to-day becomes, by postponement, the despair
of to-morrow. Last night we marked him well, and perceived that our
running commentary upon the evil of his way, with the gentle rebukes
couched in them, had little or no other effect upon him than to make him
feel at home and easy in his strange position. And yet he could set up
the pitiful howl at being ridiculed, as were it the worst, grievous
injury that a human boy could be made to suffer. Yes, his heart is so
proud and deceitful and hard that we must all but break it, to bring it
to its better nature."
Soft Voice. "Oh, Nick of the Woods; but you are stern! So stern!"
Stern Voice. "But, Meg of the Hills, you are merciful! So merciful! Your
mercifulness and my sternness temper each other, and the result being
justice, makes the mission we are pointed to fulfill a labor both of use
and love. You plead for postponement. This indulgence, without some sign
of repentance on his part, we can not show the culprit. Yet, to satisfy
you, I will give him one more chance of exhibiting his repentance,
should there be any in his heart. I will tempt him once more with the
red moccasins. Should he manifest no disposition to renew his
acquaintance with them, then but too gladly will I defer his day of
reckoning, according to your desire. Or, even should he show the least
sign of diminished affection for them, diminished and just in that
proportion shall be the severity of his punishment. On the other hand,
should it appear that, in spite of the wholesome lesson his yesterday's
experience should have taught him, he would still take pride and
pleasure in the red vanities, to the exclusion of better thoughts and
things, then there is nothing left for it but to put him through at
once; no alternative but the Manitou race."
Soft Voice. "Well, well! So be it! But I greatly fear the test shall
prove too severe for the virtue of the poor, vain boy. He has a lively
fancy, and the moccasins are very beautiful; their glitter and gleam
would dazzle--have dazzled older eyes than his! Yes, so be it! And,
after all, why deplore it? For----
"When the Manitou race is run,
Which shall be ere set of sun,
All is ended, all well done,
And Wahcondah smiling!"
Then, after a momentary pause, the two voices joined and sang, or
chanted in cadences weirdly, musically, the following song:
"Manitou Lords of birds and beast,
Hark, to the voice that comes from the East!
Great Wahcondah calling you forth,
Some to South and some to North,
Some to meet the rising sun,
Some to the setting moon to run,
Each to creature he hath in charge;
Govern their way, their lives enlarge;
Make them less than beastly rude,
Teach them more than instinct rude,
Lead them on to Manitou-Land,
Where Wahcondah's powerful hand
Waits to give them Manitou-being,
Manitou-hearing, Manitou-seeing.
Him to know, and knowing, adore,
Manitou all forever more.
Up and forth to meet the day,
Over the hills and far away;
Many a race must be begun,
Some be finished ere set of sun,
All in Manitou fashion run,
All in Manitou mercy done,
Great Wahcondah wills it!"