How had the
youth of Cheif Seattle tribe met an
untimely death?
Answers
Answer:
Yonder sky that has wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold, and which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change. Today is fair. Tomorrow it may be overcast with clouds. My words are like the stars that never change. Whatever Seattle says, the great chief at Washington can rely upon with as much certainty as he can upon the return of the sun or the seasons. The white chief says that Big Chief at Washington sends us greetings of friendship and goodwill. This is kind of him for we know he has little need of our friendship in return. His people are many. They are like the grass that covers vast prairies. My people are few. They resemble the scattering trees of a storm-swept plain. The great, and I presume — good, White Chief sends us word that he wishes to buy our land but is willing to allow us enough to live comfortably. This indeed appears just, even generous, for the Red Man no longer has rights that he need respect, and the offer may be wise, also, as we are no longer in need of an extensive country.
ᴄʜɪᴇғ sᴇᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ʟᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴀ ɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛʀɪʙᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀsʜɪɴɢᴛᴏɴ ᴛᴇʀʀɪᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɴᴇᴛᴇᴇɴᴛʜ ᴄᴇɴᴛᴜʀʏ. ... ʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴡᴀʀʀɪᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇғᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ɢʀᴏᴜᴘs ᴏғ ᴛʀɪʙᴀʟ ᴇɴᴇᴍʏ ʀᴀɪᴅᴇʀs ʀɪɢʜᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴀɢᴇ. ... ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴᴄᴇsᴛᴏʀs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇs ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴᴄᴇsᴛᴏʀs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ... ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ʜɪs ᴅᴏᴏᴍ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇs ɪᴛ.