Etcha-Ottine were they,
the finest of all Tinne-Zua (Indian men)! You laughed and sang, my
sister, when we played in the woods together; when we cut the birch
trees to make sirop in the spring time; when we sewed the rogans of
the birch bark, or plaited the quills of the porcupine into belts,
and made our father's gun-cases, or our own leather dresses for the
Fall. Many a time we went out in the canoe together; we paddled among
the islands when the berries were ripe; we spent the night in
gathering the sweet ripe fruit--moose-berry and moss-berry, the
little eye-berry, and the sassiketoum. In the summer we went to the
Forts, and pitched our camps near the white man's house. We sold our
furs to the 'big master,' and he gave us blankets and dress pieces,
and beads to make us fine leggings; and tobacco, and tea, and shot,
and ammunition. Then we went to the Praying man's house, and he kept
school for us every day, and made us read in the big books; and told
us of Niotsi N Dethe (Great God), and the poor, silly wife who
listened to the bad Spirit, and stole the big berry, which God told
her not to steal; and of the blessed Saviour, who was so good and
came down from Heaven to save us, because He saw we were so helpless;
and He loved the poor Indian as well as the white man, and, told the
praying men to come and seek after us, and pour water on us, and say
good words for us.
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