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Here the wigwam blaze beamed on the tender and helpless, the council fire glared on the wise and daring. Now

they dipped their noble limbs in your sedgy lakes, and now 2 they paddled the light canoe along your rocky shores.

Here they warred: the echoing whoop, the bloody grapple, the defying death-song, all were here; and when the tiger strife was over, here curled the smoke of peace. Here, too, they worshipped ; and from many a dark bosom went up a pure prayer to the Great Spirit. He had not written his laws for them on tables of stone, but he had traced them on the tables of their hearts. The poor child of nature knew not the God of revelation, but the God of the

universe he acknowledged in every thing around. He be3 held him in the star that sunk in beauty behind his lonely

dwelling ; in the sacred orb that flamed on him from his mid-day throne; in the flower that snapped in the morning breeze; in the lofty pine, that defied a thousand whirlwinds ; in the timid warbler that never left its native grove ; in the fearless eagle, whose untired pinion was wet in clouds; in the worm that crawled at his foot; and in his own matchless form, glowing with a spark of that light, to whose mysterious source he bent, in humble, though blind adoration.

And all this has passed away. Across the ocean came a pilgrim bark, bearing the seeds of life and death. The former were sown for you ; the latter sprung up in the path of the simple native. Two hundred years have changed the character of a great continent, and blotted for ever from its face, a whole peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of nature, and the anointed children of education have been too powerful for the tribes of the ignorant. Here and there a stricken few remain, but how

unlike their bold, untameable progenitors! The Indian, of 5 falcon glance, and lion bearing, the theme of the touching

ballad, the hero of the pathetic tale, is gone ; and his degraded offspring crawl upon the soil where he walked in majesty, to remind us how miserable is man, when the foot of the conqueror is on his neck.

As a race, they have withered from the land. Their arrows are broken, their springs are dried up, their cabins are in the dust. Their council fire has long since gone out on the shore, and their war-cry is fast dying to the untrod

den west. Slowly and sadly they climb the distant moun6 tains, and read their doom in the setting sun. They are shrinking before the mighty tide which is pressing them away; they must soon hear the roar of the last wave, which will settle over them for ever. Ages hence, the inquisitive white man, as he stands by some growing city, will ponder on the structure of their disturbed remains, and wonder to what manner of persons they belonged. They will live only in the songs and chronicles of their exterminators. Let these be faithful to their rude virtues as men, and pay

due tribute to their unhappy fate as a people.


The discontented Pendulum.- JANE TAYLOR.

1 An old clock that had stood for fifty years in a farmer's

kitchen, without giving its owner any cause of complaint, early one summer's morning, before the family was stirring, suddenly stopped. Upon this, the dial-plate (if we may credit the fable) changed countenance with alarm; the hands made a vain effort to continue their course; the wheels remained motionless with surprise ; the weights hung speechless; each member felt disposed to lay the blame on the others. At length, the dial instituted a formal inquiry as to the cause of the stagnation, when hands, 2 wheels, weights, with one voice, protested their innocence.

But now a faint tick was heard below from the pendulum, who thus spoke :- I confess myself to be the sole cause of the stoppage; and I am willing, for the general satisfaction, to assign my reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of ticking." Upon hearing this, the old clock became so enraged, that it was on the very point of striking.

Lazy wire !” exclaimed the dial-plate, holding up its hands. " Very good!" replied the pendulum, it is vastly

easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as every 3

body knows, set yourself up above me, --it is vastly easy for you,

I say, to accuse other people of laziness! You, who have had nothing to do all the days of your life, but to stare people in the face, and to amuse yourself with watching all that goes on in the kitchen! Think, I beseech you, how you would like to be shut up for life in this dark closet, and to wag backwards and forwards, year after

year, as I do."

As to that,” said the dial, “is there not a window in 4 your house, on purpose for you to look through ?”_" For

all that,” resumed the pendulum,“ it is very dark here; and, although there is a window, I dare not stop, even for an instant, to look out at it. Besides, I am really tired of my way of life : and if you wish, I'll tell you how I took this disgust at my employment. I happened this morning to be calculating how many times I should have to tick in the course of only the next twenty-four hours; perhaps some of you, above there, can give me the exact sum.”

The minute hand, being quick at figures presently replied, 5.“ Eighty-six thousand four hundred times.” “ Exactly so," replied the pendulum. “Well, I appeal to you all, if the very thought of this was not enough to fatigue one; and when I began to multiply the strokes of one day, by those of months and years-really it is no wonder if I felt discour. aged at the prospect; so, after a great deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself, I'll stop."

The dial could scarcely keep its countenance during this harangue; but resuming its gravity, thus replied : “ Dear

Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a useful, 6 industrious person as yourself, should have been overcome

by this sudden action. It is true, you have done a great deal of work in your time ; so have we all, and are likely to do ; which, although it may fatigue us to think of, the question is, whether it will fatigue us to do. Would you now do me the favor to give about half a dozen strokes to illustrate my argument ?"

The pendulum complied, and ticked six times in its usual pace. “Now,” resumed the dial, "may I be allowed to

inquire, if that exertion was at all fatiguing or disagreeable 7 to you?" "Not in the least,” replied the pendulum, “it is

not of six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of millions." - Very good,” replied the dial; “but recollect that though you may think of a million strokes in an instant, you are required to execute but one; and that, however often you may hereafter have to swing, a moment will always he given you to swing in." " That consideration staggers me, I confess," said the pendulum. “Then I hope,” resumed the dial-plate, "we shall all immediately return to our duty, for the maids will lie in bed if we

stand idling thus." 8 Upon this the weights, who had never been accused of

light conduct, used all their influence in urging him to proceed; when, as with one consent, the wheels began to turn, the hands began to move, the pendulum began to swing, and, to its credit, ticked as loud as ever; while a red beam of the rising sun, that streamed through a hole in the kitchen, shining full upon the dial-plate, it brightened up, as if nothing had been the matter.

When the farmer came down to breakfast that morning, upon looking at the clock, he declared that his watch had gained half an hour in the night.


9 A celebrated modern writer says, “ Take care of the

minutes, and the hours will take care of themselves.” This is an admirable remark, and might be very seasonably recollected when we begin to be “ weary in well-doing," from the thought of having much to do. The present moment is all we have to do with, in

any sense; the past is irrecoverable, the future is uncertain ; nor is it fair to burden one moment with the weight of the next. Sufficient unto the moment is the trouble thereof. If we had to walk a hun

dred miles, we should still have to set but one step at a 10 time, and this process continued, would infallibly bring us to our journey's end. Fatigue generally begins, and is always increased, by calculating in a minute the exertion of hours.

Thus, in looking forward to future life, let us recollect that we have not to sustain all its toil, to endure all its sufferings, or encounter all its crosses at once. One moment comes laden with its own little burdens, then flies, and is succeeded by another no heavier than the last :--if one

could be borne, so can another and another. 11 It seems easier to do right to-morrow than to day, merely because we forget that when to-morrow comes, then will be

Thus life passes with many, in resolutions for the future, which the present never fulfils. It is not thus with those, who,“ by patient continuance in well-doing, seek for


glory, honor, and immortality.” Day by day, minute by minute, they execute the appointed task, to which the requisite measure of time and strength is proportioned ; and thus, having worked while it was called day, they at length rest from their labors, and their works “follow them.” Let us then," whatever our hands find to do, do it with all our might, recollecting that now is the proper and accepted time."

Vulgarism in language is a distinguishing characteristic of bad company, and a bad education. A man of fashion avoids nothing with more care than this. Proverbial expressions, and trite sayings, are the flowers of the rhetoric of a vulgar man. Would he say that men differ in their tastes; he both supports and adorns that opinion by the good old saying, as he respectfully calls it, that, “ what is one man's meat is another man's poison.” If any body attempts being smart, as he calls it, upon him; he gives them tit-for-tat, ay, that he does. He has always some favorite word for the time being ; which, for the sake of using often, he commonly abuses. Such as, vastly angry, vastly kind, vastly handsome, and vastly ugly. He sometimes affects hard words, by way of ornament, which he always mangles. A man of fashion never has recourse to proverbs and vulgar aphorisms; uses neither favorite words, nor hard words; but takes great care to speak very. correctly and grammatically, and to pronounce properly; that is, according to the usage of the best companies.


LESSON LXVIII. Shocking effects of Intemperance.-HUMPHREY. 1 Who can enumerate the diseases which intemperance generates in the brain, liver, stomach, lungs, bones, muscles, nerves, fluids, and whatever else is susceptible of disease, or pain in the human system? How rudely does it shut up, one after another, all the doors of sensation, or in the caprice of its wrath throw them all wide open to every hateful intruder. How, with a refinement of cruelty

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