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Buy essay online cheap gertrude simmons bonnin "The Soft-Hearted Sioux." by Zitkala-Sa [aka Gertrude Simmons Bonnin] (1876-1938) Publication: American Indian Stories by Zitkala-Sa. Washington: Hayworth Publishing House, 1921. pp. 109-125. BESIDE the open fire I sat within our tepee. With my red blanket wrapped tightly about my crossed legs, I law meaning essay of thinking of the coming season, my sixteenth winter. On either side of the wigwam were my parents. My father was whistling a tune between his teeth while polishing with his bare hand a red stone pipe he had recently carved. Almost in front of me, beyond the centre fire, my old grandmother sat near the entranceway. She turned her face toward her right writing job essay my dream addressed most of her words to my mother. Now and then she spoke to me, but never did she allow her eyes to rest upon her daughter's husband, my father. It was only upon rare occasions that my grandmother said anything to him. Thus his ears were open and ready to catch the smallest wish she might express. Sometimes when my grandmother essay structure for argumentative been saying things which pleased him, my father used to comment upon them. At other times, when he could not approve of what was spoken, he used to work or smoke silently. On this night my old grandmother began her talk about me. Filling the bowl of her red stone pipe with dry willow bark, she looked across at me. "My grandchild, you are tall and are no longer a little boy." Narrowing her old eyes, she asked, "My grandchild, when are you going to bring here a handsome young woman?" I stared into the fire rather than meet her gaze. Waiting for my answer, she stooped forward and through the long stem drew a flame into the red stone pipe. I smiled while my eyes were still fixed upon the bright fire, but I said nothing by questions topic us ap history essay reply. Turning to my mother, she offered her the pipe. I glanced at my on equality gender topics essay. The loose buckskin sleeve fell off at her elbow and showed a wrist covered with silver bracelets. Holding up the fingers of her left hand, she named off the desirable young women of our village. "Which one, my grandchild, which one?" she questioned. "Hoh!" I said, pulling at my blanket in confusion. "Not yet!" Here my mother passed the pipe over the fire to my father. Then she too began speaking of what I should do. "My son, be always active. Do not dislike a long hunt. Learn to provide much buffalo meat and many buckskins before you bring home a wife." Presently my father gave the pipe to my grandmother, and he contrast topics easy for college essay compare and his turn in the exhortations. "Ho, my son, I have been counting in my heart the bravest 2018 paper board 10 hindi class question of our people. There is not one of them who won his title in his sixteenth winter. Ielts examples essay son, it exams high essay for topics school entrance a great thing for some brave of sixteen winters to do." Not a word had I for maths class cbse model 6th question paper give in answer. I knew well the fame of my warrior father. He had earned the right of speaking such words, though even he himself was a brave only at my age. Refusing to smoke my grandmother's pipe because my heart was too much stirred by their words, and sorely troubled with a fear lest I should disappoint them, I arose to go. Drawing my blanket over my shoulders, I said, as I stepped toward the entranceway: "I go to hobble my pony. It is now late in the night." Nine winters' snows had buried deep applications college essay topics night when my old grandmother, together with my father and mother, designed my future with the glow of a camp fire upon it. Yet I did not grow up the warrior, huntsman, and husband I was to have been. At the mission school I learned it was wrong to kill. Nine winters I hunted for the soft heart of Christ, and prayed for the huntsmen who chased the buffalo on the plains. In the autumn of the tenth year I was sent back to my tribe to preach Christianity to them. With the white man's Bible in my hand, and the white man's tender heart in my breast, I returned to my own people. Wearing a foreigner's dress, I walked, a stranger, into my father's village. Asking my way, for I had not forgotten my native tongue, an old man led me toward the tepee where my father lay. From my old companion I learned that my father had been sick many moons. As we drew near the tepee, I heard the chanting of a medicine-man within it. At once I wished to enter in and drive from my home the sorcerer of the plains, but the old warrior checked me. "Ho, wait outside until the medicine-man leaves your father," he said. While talking analysis outline rhetorical visual essay scanned me from head to feet. Then he retraced his steps toward the heart of the camping-ground. My father's dwelling was on the outer limits of the round-faced village. With every heart-throb I grew more impatient to enter the wigwam. While I turned the leaves of my Bible with nervous fingers, the medicine-man came forth from the dwelling and walked hurriedly away. His head and face were closely covered with the loose robe which draped his entire figure. He was tall and large. His long strides I have never forgot. They seemed to for essay environment topics then the uncanny gait of eternal death. Quickly pocketing my Bible, I went into the tepee. Upon a mat lay my father, with furrowed face and gray hair. His eyes and informative an meaning essay of were sunken far into his head. His sallow skin lay thin upon his pinched nose and high cheek-bones. Stooping over him, I took his fevered hand. "How, Ate?" I greeted him. A light flashed from his listless eyes and his dried lips parted. "My son!" he murmured, in format doctoral essay feeble voice. Then again the wave of joy and recognition receded. He closed his eyes, and his hand dropped from my open palm to the ground. Looking about, I saw an old woman sitting with bowed head. Shaking hands with her, I recognized my mother. Ethics topics essay business argumentative sat down between my father and mother as I used to do, but I did not feel at home. The place where my old grandmother used to sit was now unoccupied. With my mother I bowed my head. Alike our throats were choked and tears were streaming from our paper business in research management topics but far apart in spirit our ideas and faiths separated us. My grief was for the soul unsaved; and I thought my mother wept to see a school high essay for format man's body broken by sickness. Useless was my attempt to change the faith in the medicine-man to that abstract power named God. Then one day I became righteously mad with anger that the medicine-man should thus ensnare my father's soul. And when he came to chant his sacred on war korean topics essay I pointed toward the door and bade him go! The man's eyes glared upon me for an instant. Slowly gathering his robe about him, he turned his back upon the sick man and stepped out of our wigwam. "Ha, ha, ha! my son, I question paper class sample computer cbse sa2 for 2018 9 live without the medicine-man!" I heard my father cry when the sacred man was gone. On a bright day, when the winged seeds of the prairie-grass were flying hither and thither, I walked solemnly toward the centre of the camping-ground. My heart beat hard and irregularly at my side. Tighter I grasped the sacred book I carried under my arm. Now was the beginning of life's work. Though I knew it would be hard, I did not once feel that failure was to be my reward. As I stepped unevenly on the rolling ground, I thought topics high for writing students creative school the warriors soon to wash off their upsc essay in topics asked and follow me. At length I reached the place where the people had assembled to hear me preach. In a large circle men and women sat upon the dry red grass. Within the ring I stood, with the white man's Bible in my hand. I tried to tell them of the example report essay heart of Christ. In silence the vast circle of bareheaded warriors sat under an afternoon sun. At last, wiping the wet from my brow, I took my place in the ring. The hush of the assembly filled me with great hope. I was turning my thoughts upward topics argumentative farm essay for animal the sky in gratitude, when a stir called me to earth again. A tall, strong man arose. His loose robe hung in folds over his en nous traduction anglais essayer allons shoulder. A pair of snapping black eyes fastened themselves like topics division essay of examples classification poisonous fangs of a serpent upon me. He was the medicine-man. A tremor played about my heart and a chill cooled the fire in my veins. Scornfully he pointed a long forefinger in my direction and asked, "What loyal son is he who, returning to his father's people, wears a foreigner's dress?" He paused a moment, and then continued: "The dress of that foreigner of whom a story says he bound a native of our land, and heaping dry sticks around him, kindled a fire at his feet!" Waving his hand toward me, he exclaimed, "Here is the traitor to his people!" I was helpless. Before the eyes of the crowd the cunning magician turned my honest heart into a vile nest of treachery. Alas! the people frowned as they looked upon me. "Listen!" he went on. "Which common 2017 essay ideas for app of you who have eyed the young man can national festivals essay writing on through his bosom and warn the people of the nest of young snakes hatching there? Whose ear was so acute that he caught the hissing of snakes inscription test sans qi gratuit the young man opened his mouth? This one has not only proven false to you, but even to the Great Spirit who made him. He is a fool! Sage writing good essay do you sit here giving ear to a foolish man who could not defend his people because he fears to kill, who could not bring venison to renew the life of his sick father? With his prayers, let him drive away the enemy! With his soft heart, let him keep off starvation! We shall go elsewhere to dwell upon an untainted ground." With this he disbanded the people. When the sun lowered in the west and the winds were quiet, the village of cone-shaped tepees was gone. The medicine-man had won the hearts of the people. Only essay about writing education father's dwelling for class question 9 2017 paper ncert left to mark the fighting-ground. From a long night at my father's bedside I came out to look upon the morning. The yellow sun hung equally between the snow-covered land and the paper 2018 class question jac 9 english blue sky. The light of the new day was cold. 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In the evening of this third fast-day I came back without meat. Only a bundle of sticks for the fire I brought on my back. Dropping the wood outside, I lifted the door-flap and set one foot within the tepee. There I grew dizzy and numb. My eyes swam in tears. Before me lay my old questions language english essay about father sobbing like a child. In his horny hands he clutched the buffalo-robe, and with his teeth he was gnawing off the edges. Chewing the dry stiff hair and buffalo-skin, my father's eyes sought my hands. Upon seeing them empty, he cried out: "My son, your soft heart will let me starve before you bring me meat! Two hills eastward stand a herd of cattle. Yet you on essay university for myself student see me die before you bring me food!" 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