that of his disciples. If, however, the test be applied to the relative exaction of toil, sacrifice, and personal endurance of the two classes of missionaries, the Jesuit was put to a far sterner trial; and nobly did he meet it. Starting for at least a year of isolation in the deep forest, with his Indian crew, he tucks up the skirts of his cassock and takes off his shoes, so as not to carry sand or water into or to pierce the canoe. He bears his share of packs over the portages. He has at hand flint and steel to light fires and pipes. He must be patient and cheerful, and never tease or worry the Indians with questions. He goes to share with them the life of squalor and dreariness already described, in close intimacy. He became, as we may say, fond of his companions.
The first Puritan ministers who labored for the Indians were men with families, and generally with parishes of their own. They visited the Indians at intervals, but never domiciled with them. They compelled them to cut off their hair and to wear clothing. Eliot drew upon the cast-off wardrobes and ragbags of his friends, as well as upon remnants of old sails and horse-blankets, that he might prepare his red flock to enter Paradise with some of the apparel which Adam put on when he was leaving it. This teasing interference with all the personal habits of the Indians is an illustration of that strong antipathy, already remarked upon, which the Englishman felt for the native. This antipathy, and the hauteur accompanying it, alienated the Indian. When Major Gibbons was commissioned, in 1645, to aid our allies the Mohicans, he was instructed “to make good use of our confederates, having due regard to the honor of God, who is both our sword and shield, and to the distance which is to be observed between Christians and barbarians, as well in wars as in other negotiations.” The historian Hutchinson[1] remarks on this advice: “It seems strange that men who professed to be-
- ↑ Collection of Papers, p. 151.
