I remember that I asked a raw Native once what he thought about the
after-life in which so many white and black people professed to believe.
He answered: "The white people are a clever race; they see many things
in their books; perhaps they can see even beyond death. I do not say
that they are liars, as some of our people sometimes say. They may know
these things, I do not. All I know is that when I die this breath that
is now in me so that I am able to think and speak will leave my body
which then must be put away in the ground: I think that will be the end
of me--but, not quite, for there,"--here he pointed to his infant son
who was toddling about in the strong sunlight--"there in him, my son,"
and his voice grew tender as he spoke, "I shall live on because he is
part of me, my life is in him; I cannot die altogether so long as he
lives, but if he should die and not leave a son to carry on my life,
then should I die the death utterly."

I recollect that when I wrote these clear words of an honest doubter
there came to mind the old Arab saying: "Whosoever leaveth no male hath
no memory," which is but a confession of that sense of doubt that has
haunted the minds of men of all races and at all times while the people
as a whole have professed their hope and belief in a life everlasting.

I discussed the matter of polygamy with a Native youth one day, and made
a note of his argument. He said:

"In our district the young women are beginning to go against the man who
wants more than one wife. I have a young wife, and when I talk to her
about taking a second wife she says that she will not suffer it. She
says that the white people do well in that the man and his wife grow old
together, whereas we Natives, as she says, we are like the cattle in the
kraal; we do not behave like human beings. But to this I answered that