I suppose
it's accordin' to the gifts of your people that the women should
work, and the men hunt; but there's such a thing as moderation in
all matters. As for huntin', I see no good reason why any limits
need be set to that, but Hist comes of too good a stock to toil
like a common drudge. One of your means and standin' need never
want for corn, or potatoes, or anything that the fields yield;
therefore, I hope the hoe will never be put into the hands of any
wife of yourn. You know I am not quite a beggar, and all I own,
whether in ammunition, skins, arms, or calicoes, I give to Hist,
should I not come back to claim them by the end of the season. This
will set the maiden up, and will buy labor for her, for a long time
to come. I suppose I needn't tell you to love the young woman, for
that you do already, and whomsoever the man ra'ally loves, he'll
be likely enough to cherish. Nevertheless, it can do no harm to
say that kind words never rankle, while bitter words do. I know
you're a man, Sarpent, that is less apt to talk in his own lodge,
than to speak at the Council Fire; but forgetful moments may
overtake us all, and the practyse of kind doin', and kind talkin',
is a wonderful advantage in keepin' peace in a cabin, as well as
on a hunt.
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