My brother promised him that the burial-place of his people should not
be disturbed, and that he would find it as now, when he did again visit
it.
"Me never come again," said the old Indian. "No. Umpachee is very old.
He has no squaw; he has no young men who call him father. Umpachee is
like that tree;" and he pointed, as he spoke, to a birch, which stood
apart in the field, from which the bark had fallen, and which did show
no leaf nor bud.
My brother hereupon spake to him of the great Father of both white and
red men, and of his love towards them, and of the measure of light which
he had given unto all men, whereby they might know good from evil, and
by living in obedience to which they might be happy in this life and in
that to come; exhorting him to put his trust in God, who was able to
comfort and sustain him in his old age, and not to follow after lying
Powahs, who did deceive and mislead him.
"My young brother's talk is good," said the old man. "The Great Father
sees that his skin is white, and that mine is red.
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