admiration with what the white man has done and is doing. I read
the modern press, and many scientific works, and I am satisfied that
man will fly in a few years more. Already the automobile is displacing
the domestic animals. The telephone was a great triumph of science, next
in importance to steam locomotion. But, are your people as happy with
your modern methods, your crowded cities, your strenuous existence, as
your forefathers were, who led the simple life? And where is this mad
scramble, not for wealth alone, not for power but for mere existence,
nothing more, that the human race is engaged in, going to end? Can you
tell me? Take America, one of the newest civilized lands of the earth,
how long will it be before her coal measures are exhausted? Her iron
ores exhausted? Her forests will soon be a thing of the past. Already
you hear complaints that her fertile lands are not yielding as they once
did, and your population is constantly increasing. With coal gone, with
iron gone, with the land poverty stricken to a point where profitable
production of cereals can no longer be had, what is to become of your
teeming millions?"

The Awakening.

I assured him I could not answer these questions. That I had asked
myself the same things a thousand times, and no answer came to me. I
handed the professor another cigar. He lit it. Just then an old Indian
woman clad in a calico wrapper, but bareheaded and barefooted, came down
the road towards us. She stopped some fifty feet away, and in a shy, low
voice, but in good English, she called him. "Papa, did you catch me a
fish for dinner?" The professor turned his head, and seeing her, said to
me, "Ah, here is my guardian angel, my wife," and then to her, holding
up his trout, he said, "Yes, I have it. I am coming now."

He arose, held out a dirty hand for me to shake, and in parting, said,
"My dear sir, you can not imagine how much I have enjoyed our chance
meeting, resulting from your poor pronunciation of two Indian words.
When you return to your civilized surroundings, ask yourself, 'Are any
of this mad throng as happy as the Indian I met at the Killican'."

He joined his wife, and the aged pair passed into a brush hut beneath
some stately pines. I, too, turned toward the wagon which was to carry
me back to camp, meditating long and deeply on the remarks of this
strolling compound of savagery and education. Environment is largely
responsible for man's condition. Here was a man