UNWRITTEN SCRIPTURES

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A missionary once undertook to instruct

a group of Indians in the truths of his

holy religion. He told them of the creation

of the earth in six days, and of the fall of

our first parents by eating an apple.

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The courteous savages listened attentively,

and, after thanking him, one related in his

turn a very ancient tradition concerning

the origin of the maize. But the missionary

plainly showed his disgust and disbelief,

indignantly saying:

"What I delivered to you were sacred truths,

but this that you tell me is mere

fable and falsehood!"

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"My brother," gravely replied the

offended Indian, "it seems that you have

not been well grounded in the rules of

civility. You saw that we, who practice

these rules, belived your stories; why, then

do you refuse to credit ours?"

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Every religion has its Holy Book,

and ours was a mingling of history,

poetry, and prophecy, of precepts and

folklore, even such as the modern reader

finds within the covers of his Bible.

This Bible of ours was our whole

literature, a living Book, sowed as

precious seed by our wisest sages, and

springing anew in the wondering eyes

and upon the innocent lips of little

children. Upon its hoary wisdom of

proverb and fable, its mystic and

legendary lore thus sacredly preserved

and transmitted from father to son,

was based in large part on our

customs and philosophy.

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Charles Alexander Eastman

[Ohiyesa] Santee Sioux

THE SOUL OF THE INDIAN

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