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sounds the Key note and they all join in the war whoop and circle about the pole and the camp fire and the wild revelry goes on.  All the lowest instincts are on top and triumphant and the night is affrighted  with their savage yells. 
After such an exhibition of Indian nature we realize that it is only through the slow roll of the ages that the Indians will be in a position to comprehend and claim the rights and privileges of a citizen of the Republic.
The Indians might be said to compose the nobility of this country.   They are a nation of aristocratic idlers, gentlemen of leisure, this only native sporting class in america.  They disdain to pay homage to the soil by cultivating it and exhibit a noble scorn of labor. That enduring sentiment and rule of action for all ages "In the sweat of thy brow shalt they earn thy bread," never became a tenant of the Indian brain. [[strikethrough]]The motto of the noble red man is "In the sweat of my squaws brow shall I earn my bread."[[/strikethrough]] The Indian will not toil, will not seek a time and place to submit to the [[strikethrough]] laws [[/strikethrough]] [[insert]] cycle [[/insert]] of  [[strikethrough]] God [[/strikethrough]] [[insert]] labor [[/insert]] will not provide for the future, saying he will take no thought for the morrow for the morrow will take thought for the things of itself.  The life of an Indian is so entirely foreign to that of an industrious people that only a [[strike through]] vast mind [[/strike through]] [[insert]] most vivid [[/insert]] imagination could suggest
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