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POETRY.
HYMN.
F om the recesses of a lowly spirit,
My humble prayer ascends—O Father!
* hear it!
Upsoarmg on the wings of fear and meek
ness,
Forgive its weakness.
I know, 1 feel, how mean and how unwor
thy
The trembling sacrifice I pour before thee:
What can I oiler in Thy presence holy,
But sin and folly ?
For in Thy siglit, who every bosom view-
est>
Cold are our warmest vows, and vain our
truest:
Thoughts of a hurrying hour—our lips re
peat them,
Our hearts forget them.
We see Thy hand—it leads us, it supports
us;
We hear thy vciee—it counsels and it
courts us;
And then wc turn away—and still thy
kindness
Pardons our blindness!
And still Thy rain descends, Thy sun is
glowing,
Fruits ripen round, flowers are beneath us
blowing.
And, as if man were some deserving crea
ture,
Joys cover nature.
0 how long-suffering, Lord!—but thou de-
lightest
To win, with love, the wandering—Thou
invitest,
By smiles of mercy,—not by frowns or ter
rors,
Man from his errors.
Who can resist Thy gentle call—appealing
To every generous thought, and grateful
feeling?
That voice paternal—whispering - , watch
ing ever:.
My bosom?—Never.
Father and Saviour! plant within that bo-
som "
The seeds of holiness; and bid them blos
som
In fragrance and in beauty, bright and
vernal,
And Spring eternal! [Bowring.]
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HYMN.
Praise to the Creator.
1.
I V 4T.
(PA
TS
SCRIPTURE TRANSLATION.
Genesis, Chap. I.
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MffSCElaiLiA]YEO«J^.
TRAITS OF INDIAN CHARACTER,
Uy Washington Irving,
[continued.]
“In the general luotle of estiiuatiiig
the savage character, we may per
ceive a vast degree of vulgar preju
dice, and passionate exaggeration,
without any of the temperate discus
sion of true philosophy. No allow
ance is made for the difference of
circumstances, and the operations of
principles under which they have been
educated. Virtue and vice, though
radically the same, yet differ widely
in their inlluence on human conduct,
according to the habits and maxims
of society in which the individual is
reared. No being acts more rigidly
from rule than the Indian. Ilis whole
conduct is regulated according to some
general maxims early implanted in his
mind. The moral laws that govern
him, to be sure, are but few, but
then lie conforms to them all. The
white man abounds in laws of religion
morals, and manners; but how many
does he violate?
“A common cause of accusation a-
gainst the Indians is, the faithlessness
of their friendships, and their sudden
provocations to hostility. But we do
not make allowance for their peculiar
modes of thinking and feeling, and the
principles by which they are govern
ed. Besides, the friendship of the
whites towards the poor Indians, was
ever cold, distrustful, oppressive, and
insulting. In the intercourse with
our frontiers they are seldom treated
with coniidencc, and arc frequently
subject to. injury and encroachment.
The solitary savage feels silently but
acutely; his seusnnlities are not diffus
ed over so wide a surface as those of
the white mail, but they run in steadi
er and deeper channels. His pride,
his affections] his superstitions, are all
directed towards levver objects, but
the wounds litliclcd on them are pro-
porUonably severe, and furnish motives
of hostility which lie cannot sufficient
ly appreciate^ Where a community
is also limited in number, and forms,
as in an Indian tribe, one great patri
archal family, the injury of the indi
vidual is the injury oi the whole; and
as their body politic is small, the sen
timent of vengeance is almost instan
taneously diffused. One council lire
is sufficient to decide the measure—
Eloquence and superstition combine to
lntlame their ininds. The orator a-
w'akens all their martial ardour, and
they are wrought up to a kind of reli
gious desperation, by the visions of the
prophet aud the dreamer.
“An instance of one of thesp sudden
exasperations, arising from a motive
peculiar to the Indian character, is
extant in an old record of the early
settlement of Massachusetts. The
planters of Plymouth had defaced the
monuments of the dead at Passouages-
sit, and had plundered the grave of
the sachem’s mother of some skins
with which it had been piously deco
rated. Every one knows the hallow
ed reverence which the Indians enter
tain for sepulchres of their kindred.—
Even now, tribes that have passed
generations, exiled from the abodes
of their ancestors, when by chance
they have been travelling, on some
mission, to our seat of government,
have been known to turn aside from
tlie highway for many miles distance,
aud guided by wonderfully accurate
tradition, have sought some tumulus,
buried perhaps in woods, where the
bones of their tribe were anciently
deposited; and there have passed some
time in silent lamentation over the
ashes of their forefathers. Influenced
by ibis sublime and holy feeling, the
the sachem, whose mother s tomb had
been violated, in the moment ol indig
nation. gathered his men together, and
addressed them in the following beau
tiful simple pathetic harangue—which
has remained unquoted for nearly two
hundred years—a pure specimen of In
dian eloquence, and an affecting mon
ument of filial piety in a savage.
“When last the glorious light of all
the sky was underneath this globe,
and birds grew silent., I began to set
tle, as my custom is, to take repose.
Before mine eyes were last closed,
methought 1 saw a vision, at which my
spirit w'ns much troubled, and, trem
bling at that doleiui sislit, a spirit
cried aloud—behold my son, whom 1
have cherished; see the bicasts that
gave thee suck, the hands that lapped
thee warm & fed thee oft! canstthou
forget to take revenge of those wild
people, who have defaced my monu
ment in a despiteful manner, disdain
ing our antiquities and honorable cus
toms. bee now', the sachem’s grave
lies like the common people, defaced
by an ignoble race. Thy mother doth
complain, and implores thy aid against
this thievish people, who have newly
intruded in our land. If this be suffer
ed 1 shall not rest quiet in my everlas
ting habitation. This said, the spirit
vanished, and I, all in a sweat not able
scarce to speax, began to get some
strength and recollect my spirits that
were lied, and determined to demand
your counsel, and solicit your assis
tance.”
“Another cause of violent outcry a-
gainst the Indians, is their inhumanity
to the vanquished. This originally a-
rose partly from political and partly
from superstitious motives. Where
hostile tribes are scanty in their num
bers, the death of several warriors
completely paralyzes their power;
and'many an instance occurs in Indian
history, where a hostile tribe, that had
long been formidable to its neighbour,
has been broken up and driven away,
by the capture and massacre of its
principal lighting men. This is a
strong temptation to the victor to be
merciless, not so much to gratify any
cruelty of revenge, as to provide for
future security. But they had other
motives originating in a superstitious
idea, common to barbarous nations, and
even prevalent among the Greeks and
Romans^—that the manes of their de
ceased friends, slain in battle, were
soothed by the blood of the captives.
But those that are not thus sacrificed
are adopted into their families, and
treated with the confidence and affec
tion of relatives and friends; nay,
so hospitable and tender is their en
tertainment, that they will often pre
fer to remain with their adopted breth
ren, rather than return to the home
and the friends of their youth.
“The inhumanity of the Indians to*
wards their prisoners has been height
ened since the intrusion of the whites.
We have exasperated what w 7 as for
merly a compliance with policy and
superstition inlo a gratification of ven
geance. They cannot but be sensi
ble that we are the usurpers of their
ancient dominion, the cause of their
degradation, & the gradual destroyers
of their race. They go forth to bat
tle, smarting with injuries and indig
nities which they have individually
suffered from the injustice and the ar
rogance of white men, and they are
driven to madness and despair, by the
wide-spreading desolation and the o-
venvhelming ruin of our warfare.—
We set them an example of violence,
by burning their villages and laying
waste their slender means of subsis
tence : and then wonder that savages
will not show moderation and magna
nimity towards men, who have left
them nothing but mere existence and
wretchedness.
“It is a common thing to exclaim
against new forms of cruelty, while,
reconciled by custom, we wink at long
established atrocities. What right
does the generosity of our conduct
give U6 to rail exclusively at Indian
warfare. W r ith all the doctrines of
Christianity, and the advantages of cul
tivated morals to govern and direct us,
what horrid crimes disgrace the vic
tories of Christian armies. Towns
laid in ashes; cities given up to the
sword; enormities perpetrated, at
which manhood blushes, and history
drops the pen. Well may we ex
claim at the outrages of the scalping
knife; but where, in the records of In
dian barbarity, can we point to a vio
lated female?
“We stigmatize the Indians also, as
cowardly anil treacherous, because
they use stratagem in warfare, in
preference to open force; but in this
they are fully authorized by their
rude code of honor. They are early
taught that, stratagem is praiseworthy;
the bravest warrior thinks it no dis
grace to lurk in silence and take eve
ry advantage ofliis foe. He triumphs
in the superior craft and sagacity by
which he has been enabled to surprise
and massacre an enemy. Indeed,
man is naturally more prone to subtle
ty than open valor, owing to hi3 physi
cal weakness in comparison with other
animals. They are endowed with na
tural weapons of defence; with horns,
with tusks, with hoofs and talons; but
man has to depend on his superior sa
gacity. In all his encounters, there
fore, with these, his proper enemies,
he has to resort to stratagem; and when
he perversely turns his hostility a-
gainst his fellow man, he continues the
same subtle mode of warfare.
“The natural principle of war is to
do the most harm to our enemy, with
the least harm to ourselves; and this
of course is to be effected by cunnin
That chivalric kind of courage which
teaches us to despise the suggestions
of prudence, and to rush in the face
of certain danger, is the offspring of
society, and produced by education.
It is honorable, because in fact it is
the triumph of lofty sentiment over an
instinctive repugnance to pain, and o-
ver those selfish yearnings after per
sonal ease and security which society
has condemned as ignoble. It is an e-
motion kept up by pride, and the fear
of shame; and thus the dread of real e-
vils is overcome by the superior dread
of an evil that exists but in the mind.
This may be instanced in the case of
a young British officer of great pride,
but delicate nerves, who xvas going
for the first time into battle. Being
agitated by the novelty and awful pe
ril of the scene, he was accosted by
another officer of a rough and boiste
rous character.—“What, sir,” cried
he, “do you tremble?” “\es
sir,” replied the other, “and if you
were half as much.afraid as 1 am you
would run away.” This young officer
signalized himself on many occasions
by his gallantry, tho’had he been bro’t
up in savage life, or even in a hum
bler and less responsible situation, it
is more than probable he could never
have ventured into open action.
.“Besides we must consider how
much the quality of open and despe
rate courage is cherished and stimula
ted by society.—It has been the theme
of many a spirit-stirring song, and cliiv-
alric story. The minstrel has sung
of it to the loftiest strain ofliis lyre—
the poet has delighted to shed around
it all the splendours of fiction—and e-
ven the historian has forgotton the so
ber gravity of narration, and burst
forth into enthusiasm and rhapsody in
its praise. Triumphs and gorgeous pa
geants have been its reward—monu
ments, where art has exhausted its
skill, and opulence its treasures, have
been erected to perpetuate a nation s
gratitude and admiration. Thus arti
ficially excited, courage has arisen to
an. extraordinary and factitious degree
of heroism; and, arrayed in all the glo
rious “pomp and circumstance” of
war, this turbulent quality has even
been able to eclipse many of those qui*
et, but invaluable virtues, which si
lently ennoble the human character,
and swell the tide of human happiness-
“But if courage intrinsically consist
in the defiance of danger and pain, the
life of the Indian is a continual exhibi
tion of it. He lives in a perpetual
state of hostility and risk.—Peril and -
adventure are congenial to his nature
rather, seem necessary to arouse*-
his faculties and give an interest to
existence. Surrounded by hostile
tribes, he is always equipped for fight
with his weapons in his hands. He tra
verses wildernesses, exposed to the
hazards of lonely sickness, of lurking
enemies or pining famine. Stormy
lakes present no obstacle to his wan
derings; in his light canoe of bark, he
sports like a feather on their waves,
& darts with the swiftness of an arrow
down the roaring rapids of the rivers.
Trackless wastes of snow, rugged
mountains, the glooms of swamps and
morasses, where poisonous reptiles
curl among the rank vegetation, are
fearlessly encountered by this wander
er of the wilderness. He gains his
food by the hardships and dangers of
the chase; he wraps himself in the
spoils of the bear, the panther, and
the buffalo, and sleeps among the
thunders of the cataract.
“No hero of ancient or modern davs.
can surpass - the Indian in his lofty con
tempt of death, and the fortitude with
which he sustains all the varied tor
ments with which it is frequently in*
dieted. L deed we here behold him ri-,
singsupe t r o the white man, merely
in consequence of peculiar education.
The latter rushes to glorious death at
the cannon’s mouth; the former cool
ly contemplates its approach, and tri
umphantly endures it, amid the tor
ments of the knife and the protracted
agonies of fire. lie even takes a sa- 1
vage delight in taunting his persecu
tors and provoking their ingenuity of^
torture; and as the devouring flames
prey on his very vitals and the flesh,
shrinks from the sinews, he raises his
last song of triumph,.breathing the de
fiance of an unconquered heart, and
invoking the spirits of his fathers to
witness that he dies without a groan.,
The knowledge of Jesus Christ is a
wonderful mystery. Some men think
they preach Christ gloriously because
they name him every two minutes in
their sermons. But that is not preach
ing Christ. To understand, and en
ter into, and open his various offices r|
and characters—the glories ofliis per
son and work—his relation to us, and
ours to Him, and to God the Father
and God the Spirit through him—this
is the knowledge of Christ. The di
vines of the present day are stunted
dwarfs in this knowledge, compared
with the great men of the last age.—
To know Jesus Christ for ourselves,
is to make him a consolation,—de
light, STRENGTH,—RIGHTE OU^J ESS,
companion,—and end.—Cecil.
Human Life.—“When we set out
on the jolly voyage of life, what a
brave fleet there is around u$, as
stretching our fresh canvass to the
breeze, all “ship-shape and Bristol
fashion,” pennons flying, music play
ing, cheering each other as we pass,
we are rather amused than alarmed
when some awkward comrade goe6
right ashore for waftt of.pilotage!—A-
las! when the voyage is well spent,
and we look about us, toil worn mark
ners, how few of our ancient consorts, j
still remain in sight, and they how
torn and wasted: and like ourselves,
struggling to keep as long as possible ,
off the fatal shore, against which wed
arc all finally drifting!”—Walter Scott.
Villainy that is vigilant will’ be ani
overmatch for virtue if she slumber [
on her post; and hence it is that a bad I
cause has often triumphed over a good f
one; for the partisans of the former,
knowing their cause will do nothing {
for them, have done every thing for
their cause; while the friends of the |
latter are too apt to expect every!
thing from their cause, & to donotluipj
for it themselves.—Laccn y