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Page 16
It was finished. Here was a Bible for the Indians. Those long lost
descendants of the ten tribes of Israel would now learn the history of
their forefathers. That grace, which the ancient Israelites had
forfeited, was offered anew to their children.
There is no impiety in believing that, when his long life was over, the
apostle of the Indians was welcomed to the celestial abodes by the
prophets of ancient days, and by those earliest apostles and
evangelists, who had drawn their inspiration from the immediate presence
of the Saviour. They first had preached truth and salvation to the
world. And Eliot, separated from them by many centuries, yet full of the
same spirit, had borne the like message to the new world of the West.
Since the first days of Christianity, there has been no man more worthy
to be numbered in the brotherhood of the apostles, than Eliot.
* * * * *
"My heart is not satisfied to think," observed Laurence, "that Mr.
Eliot's labors have done no good, except to a few Indians of his own
time. Doubtless, he would not have regretted his toil, if it were the
means of saving but a single soul. But it is a grievous thing to me,
that he should have toiled so hard to translate the Bible, and now the
language and the people are gone! The Indian Bible itself is almost the
only relic of both."
"Laurence," said his Grandfather, "if ever you should doubt that man is
capable of disinterested zeal for his brother's good, then remember how
the apostle Eliot toiled. And if you should feel your own self-interest
pressing upon your heart too closely, then think of Eliot's Indian
Bible. It is good for the world that such a man has lived, and left this
emblem of his life."
The tears gushed into the eyes of Laurence, and he acknowledged that
Eliot had not toiled in vain. Little Alice put up her arms to
Grandfather, and drew down his white head beside her own golden locks.
"Grandfather," whispered she, "I want to kiss good Mr. Eliot!"
And, doubtless, good Mr. Eliot would gladly receive the kiss of so sweet
a child as little Alice, and would think it a portion of his reward in
heaven.
Grandfather now observed, that Dr. Francis had written a very beautiful
Life of Eliot, which he advised Laurence to peruse. He then spoke of
King Philip's war, which began in 1675, and terminated with the death of
King Philip, in the following year. Philip was a proud, fierce Indian,
whom Mr. Eliot had vainly endeavored to convert to the Christian faith.
"It must have been a great anguish to the apostle," continued
Grandfather, "to hear of mutual slaughter and outrage between his own
countrymen, and those for whom he felt the affection of a father. A few
of the praying Indians joined the followers of King Philip. A greater
number fought on the side of the English. In the course of the war, the
little community of red people whom Mr. Eliot had begun to civilize, was
scattered, and probably never was restored to a flourishing condition.
But his zeal did not grow cold; and only about five years before his
death he took great pains in preparing a new edition of the Indian
Bible."
"I do wish Grandfather," cried Charley, "you would tell us all about the
battles in King Philip's war."
"O, no!" exclaimed Clara. "Who wants to hear about tomahawks and
scalping knives!"
"No, Charley," replied Grandfather, "I have no time to spare in talking
about battles. You must be content with knowing that it was the
bloodiest war that the Indians had ever waged against the white men; and
that, at its close, the English set King Philip's head upon a pole."
"Who was the captain of the English?" asked Charley.
"Their most noted captain was Benjamin Church,--a very famous warrior,"
said Grandfather. "But I assure you, Charley, that neither Captain
Church, nor any of the officers and soldiers who fought in King Philip's
war, did any thing a thousandth part so glorious, as Mr. Eliot did, when
he translated the Bible for the Indians."
"Let Laurence be the apostle," said Charley to himself, "and I will be
the captain."
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