Christianity had,
indeed, done little more for him than to unsettle the pagan idea,
but it had done that.
It was some years after Se-quo-yah had learned to present the
bottle to his friends before he degenerated into a toper. His
natural industry shielded him, and would have saved him altogether
but for the vicious hospitality by which he was surrounded. With
the acuteness that came of his foreign stock, he learned to buy
his liquor by the keg. This species of economy is as dangerous to
the red as to the white race. The auditors who flocked to see and
hear him were not likely to diminish while the philosopher
furnished both the dogmas and the whisky. Long and deep debauches
were often the consequence. Still it was not in the nature of
George Gist to be a wild, shouting drunkard. His mild, philosophic
face was kindled to deeper thought and warmer enthusiasm as they
talked about the problem of their race. All the great social
questions were closely analyzed by men who were fast becoming
insensible to them. When he was too far gone to play the mild,
sedate philosopher, he began that monotonous singing whose music
carried him back to the days when the shadow of the white man
never darkened the forests, and the Indian canoe alone rippled the
tranquil waters.
Should this man be thus lost? He was aroused to his danger by the
relative to whom he owed so much.
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