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owy icrgduo'^. CHEROKEE PHflEIIX, 1X» INDIANS’ ADVOCATE. PRINTED UNDER THE YATROSAGE, AND FOR TIIE BEKfipIT OF THE CHEROKEE NATION, AND DEVOTED TO THE CAUSE OF 1ND1ANS.—E. LCI DINOTT, i O/TL I.T VOL. If. ' PRINTED weekly by ^ JOHN F. WHEELER, At $2 50 if paid in advance, f3 in six months, or $3 50 if paid at the end of the year. To subscribers Who can read only the tDherokee lariguag 0 tin price will be #2,00 5n advance, or #2,50 to be paid within the year. Every subscription will be considered as tsontitlue l unless subscribers give notice to the contrary before tile com nencement of a hew year,and all arrearages paid. Any person procuring six subscribers, •ind becoming responsible for the payment , Shall receive a seventh gratis. Advertisements will be inserted at seven ty-live cents per square for the first inser tion, am’ thirty-seven and a half cents for each continuance'; longer onc3 in propor tion. 113* All letters addressed to the Editor, post paid, will receive due attention. ©wy AD !i»i JEC.8J, VOAVEffea TAAP HW» JIirfBAA I-4 A. ahOri^id®y kt.i d^p (pejca P"iaD.I TCTZ TFJUOlT 5 Dej-5i»I-<»..I. TCTZ •pt.p ToaOA TB D0J*5<*)I-o®.I, KT DW (POJB.I f-4«Kl. Dt-lScSEZ TB yW De.T/S^IvdiLI, 0-yvlT D^P O^OJBJ K4»e.I. ©tvyz (PCvR aiiUiuioty, \vf^ d?-t O=0JB.l N4o®J[ TCTZ TE^O-I” D0 _ J»S<»K<»A. ICTAZ D£P Om^V* (PS.IB* BJR DOJAi<«Ivo5.l. AGENTS FOR THE CHEROKEE PHCENIX. The following persons are authorized to receive subscriptions and payments for the Cherokee Phoenix. Messrs. Peirce &. Williams, No. 20 Market St. Boston, Mass. George M. Tracy, Agent of the A. B. C. F. M. New York. Rev. A. D. Eddy, Canandaigua, N. Y. Thomas Hastings, Utica, N. Y. Pollard & Converse, Richmond, Ya. Rev. James Campbell, Beaufort, S. C. William Moultrie Reid, Charleston, S. C. Col. George Smith, Statesville, W. T. William M. Combs, Nashville, Ten. Rev. Bennet Roberts, Powal, Me. Mr. Tnos. R. Gold, (an itinerant Gen tleman.) Jeremiah Austil, Mobilp, Ala. ltev.‘ Cyrus Kinosbury, Mayhew, Choc taw Nation. Capt. William Robertson, Augusta, Georgia. Col. James Turk, Bellefonte, Ala. THE PHILOSOPHY OF A FU TURE STATE. BY TOBIAS DICK. Moral Powers of J\lan. “Even in the annals of the Pagan world, we find many examples of such illustrious virtues. There we read of Regulus expo«ng himself to the most cruel torments, and to death itself, rather than suifer his veracity to be impeached, or his fidelity to his coun try to be called in question—of Pho- eion, who exposed himself to the fury of an enraged assembly, by inveighing against the vices, and endeavoring to promote the best interests of his coun trymen, and gave it as his last com mand to his son, when he was going to execution, “that he should forget how ill the Athenians had treated his fath er”—of Cyrus, who was possessed o§>' Wisdom, moderation, courage, magna nimity, and noble sentiments, and who employed them all to promote the hap piness of his people—of Scipio, in whose actions the virtues of generosi ty and liberality, goodness, gentleness, justice, magnanimity, and chastity, shone with distinguished lustre—and of Damon and Pythias, who were knit together in the bonds of a friendship which all the terrors of an ignominious death could not dissolve. But of all the characters of the heathen world, illustrious'for virtue, Aristides appears to stand in the foremost rank. An extraordinary greatness of «oul. (says Rollin) made him superior to every passion. Interest, pleasure, ambition, resentment, jealousy, were extinguish ed in him by the love of virtue and his country. The merit of others, instead of offending him, became his own by NEW ECHOTA, WEDNESDAY JULY 29,18*29. NO. 17. I the approbation he gave it. He ren dered the government of the Atheni ans amiable to their allies, by bis mild ness, goodness, humanity and justice. The disinterestedness he showed in the management of the public treas ure, and the love of poverty which lie carried almost to an excess, are vir tues so far_superior to the practice of our age, that they scarce seem credi ble to us. His conduct and princi-, pies were always uniform, steadfast 1 in the pursuit of whatever he thought just, and incapable of the least false hood, or shadow of flattery, disguise, or fraud, even in jest. He had such a control over his passions that he uni formly sacrificed his private interests and his private resentments to the good of the public. Themistocles was one of the principal actors who procured his banishment from Athens;—but, af ter being recalled, he assisted him on every occasion with his advice and credit, joyfully taking pains to promote the glory of his greatest enemy, thro’ the motive of advancing the public good. And when afterwards the dis grace of Themistocles gave him a proper opportunity for revenge, in stead of resenting the ill treatment he had received from him, he con stantly refused to join with his enemies, being as far from secretly rejoicing over the misfortune of his adversary as he had been before from being af flicted at his good success. Such vir tues reflect a dignity and grandeur on every mind in which they reside, which appear incompatible with the idea that it is destined to retire forev er from the scene of action at the hour ofdeath. “But the noblest examples of ex alted virtue are to be found among those who have enlisted themselves in the cause of Christianity. The Apos tle Paul was an illustrious example of every thing that is noble, heroic, gen erous, and benevolent in human con duct. His soul was inspired with a holy ardor in promoting the best inter cuts of mankind. To accomplish this object, he parted with friends and re latives, relinquished his native coun try, and every thing that was dear to him either as a Jew or as a Roman citizen, apd exposed himself to perse cutions and dangers of evdry descrip tion. During the prosecution of his benevolent career-, he was “injournev- ings often, in perils of waters, in pei- ils of robbers, in perils by his own* countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren; in weari ness and painfulness, in watchings of ten, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in stripes above measure, in cold and nakedness.” Yet none of these things moved him, nor did lie count his life dear to him, provided lie might finish his course with joy, and be instrumental in accomplishing the present and eternal happiness of his fellow-men. In every period of the Christian era similar characters have arisen to demonstrate the power of virtue and to bless mankind. Our own age and country have produced nu merous philanthropic characters, whfc >avc shone as lights in the moral world, and have acted as benefactors to rtie human race. -The names of Alfred, Penn, Barnard, Raikcs, Neilde, Clark son, Sharpe, Buxton, Wilberforce, Venning, and many others are familiar to every one who is in the least ac quainted with the annals of benevo lence. The exertions which some of these individuals have made in the cause of liberty, in promoting the edu cation of the young, in alleviating the distresses of the poor, in ameliorating the condition of the prisoner, and in counteracting the abominable traffic in slaves, will he felt as blessings con ferred on mankind throughout succeed ing generations, and will, doubtless, he held in everlasting remembrance.” Punishment of the wicked in a future state. “Let us now suppose, for a moment, a vast assemblage of beiigs cf tlx description to which I hav< adverted, collected in a dark and dieary region Let us suppose many thou/ands of mill ions of such characters as Nero, wh< set fire to Rome, that he might amust himself with the walings and lamenta tions which this calimity inspired, anci insulted Heaven b/ offering thanks givings to the gods* after inurderin; his wife and his mother—Tiberius. who delighted in orturing his sub jects, and massacieing them in the most tormenting aid cruel manner— Caligula, celebrate! in the annals ol folly, cruelty, and inpiety, who mur dered many of his subjects with his own hand, and caused thousands who were guilty of no crimes to he cruelh butchered—Antiochus Epiphancs, who butchered forty thousand of the inhab itants of Jerusalem, in cold blood, and rushed forward, like an infernal de mon, with the intention of destroying every inhabitant of Judea—Hamilcar, who threw all the prisoners that came into his hands to be devoured bv wild beasts—Asdrubal, who put out the eyes of all the Roman captives he had taken during t wo years, cut off their noses, lingers, legs, and arms, tore their skin to pieces with iron rakes and harrows, and thew them headlong from the top ol his battlements—Jcn- ghis Khan, who caused seventy chiefs to be thrown into as many caldrons of boiling water, and took pleasure in be holding his army beheading a hundred thousand prisoners at once—Tamer lan-., who displayed his sportive cruel ty in pounding three or four thousand people in large mortars, or building them among bricks and mortar into a wall—Mustapha, who treacherously murdered the Venetian officers, after having entered into a treaty with them, and who beheld with delight the no ble-minded Bragadino, whom he had cruelly tortured, flayed alive—Bona parte, whose mad ambition sacrificed so many millions of human beings, and Lord Byron in whose breast “resent ment, anger, and hatred,” raged with violence, and who made his gall flow out, “against individuals, his coun try, the world, the universe, creation, and the Creator:”--let. us suppose such characters associated together in a world where no pleasing objects meet the eye, or cheer the heart and ima gination; and let us likewise suppose that the malignant principles and bois terous passions which reigned in tlicii minds during the present state, still continue to rage with uncontrolled and perpetual violence against all sur rounding associates;—it is evident, that in such a case, a scene of misery would be produced beyofid the power of the human mind either to conceive or to describe. If so dreadful effects have been produced by such diaboli cal passions, even in the present world, where Providence “sets restraining bounds to the wrath of man,” and where benigiiaut dispositions are blend ed with the evil principles which so ( generally prevail, what must be the effects where pure malignity, without any mixture of benevolent feelings, reigns universally, is perpetually tor menting its objects, is ever increasing in its fury, and is never controlled by physical obstructions or by moral con siderations! This is the society of hell; this is the essence of future misery; this is “the worm that never dies, and the lire that is never quenched;” and the natural effects produced by it is universal anguish and despair—“weep ing, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth.” If such be the end of the ungodly, and the malignant despiser of God’s law and the riches of his mercy, as mani fested in Christ Jesus—how careful should we be to counteract every evil propensity and passion, and liovv fer vently ought we to join in the prayer of tho Psalmist, and in the resolution of Jacob: “Gather not my soul, with sinners, nor my life with bloody men.” “0 my soul, come not thou into their secret; unto their assembly, jyino honor, be not thou united!” indxAns. see-quahyah. TIIE CHEROKEE PHILOSOPHER. Tile following account of Scc-quah- •ah, [See-quo-yahJ the celebrated in- , ventor of the Cherokee alphabet, is ! from one of a series of lectures on \ meric an literature delivered last winter at the city of Washington, by Samuel L. Knapp,Esq. ■ In the winter of 18:23, a delegation •>f the Cherokees visited the city of W ashington in order to make a treaty with the United States, and among them was Sce-quah-yah, the inventor of the Cherokee alphabet. Ilis En glish name was George Guns; lie was a half-blood, but had never, from his own account, spoken a single word of English up to the time of his inven tion, nor since. Prompted by my own curiosity, and urged by several litera ry friends, 1 applied to Sec-quah-yah, through the medium of two interpre ters—one a half-blood, Capt. Rogers, ind the other a full-blood, whose as sumed English name was John Maw, o relate to me as minutely as pcssi- ile the mental operations and all the iicts in his discovery. lie cheerfully complied with my request, and gave very deliberate ami satisfactory an swers to every question, and w as at the same time careful to know from tic interpreter if I distinctly under stood his answers. No stoic could have been more grave in lus demeanor lien was Sce-quah-yah; he pondered, according to the Indian custom, for a considerable time after each question was put, before he made his reply, and often took a whiff of his calumet while reflecting on an answer. The details of the examination arc toi long for the closing paragraph of this lecture; but the substance cf it was this—that he, Sce-quah-yah, was now about sixty-five years old, but could not precisely say—that in efirly life lie was gay, talkative, and al though he never attempted to speak in council but once, yet was often from lhe strength of his memory, his easy colloquial powers and ready command of his vernacular, a story-teller of the convivial party. Ilis reputation for talents of every kind gave him some distinction when he was quite young, so lung ago as St. Clair's defeat. In this campaign or some one that scon followed it, a letter was found on the person of a prisoner w hit'll was wrong ly read hy him to the Indians. In. some of their deliberations on this subject the question arose among them whether this mysterious power of l 'the talking IcaJ” was the gift of the Gieat Spirit to the white man, or a discovery of the while man himself? Most of his companions were of the former opinion, while he as strenuous ly maintained the latter. This fre quently became a subject of contem plation with him afterwards, as well as many other things w hich he knew, or had heard, that the white man could do; blit lie never sat down seriously to reflect on the subject, until a swell ing on his Luce confined him to bis cabin, and which, at length, made him a cripple for life, by shortening the diseased leg. Deprived of the excitements of war and the pleasures of the chase, in the long nights of his confinement his mind was again directed to the mystery of the power of speaking by letters, the very name of w hich, of course, was not to be found in bis language. From the cries of wild beasts, from the tal ents of the mocking-bird, from the voices of his children and his compan ions, lie knew that feelings and pas sions were conveyed hy different sounds from one intelligent being to another. The thought struck him to try to as certain all the sounds in the Clieiokec language. His own ear was not re markably discriminating, and be call ed to his aid the more acute ears of his wife and children. lie found great assistance from them. When j he thought Eat he had distinguished | all the different sounds in their lan guage, lie attempted to use pictorial signs, images of birds and beasts, to cunvey these sounds to others or tc mark them iuliis ow n mind. He soon dropped this method, as difficult or impossible, and tried arbitrary signs, without any regard to appearances, except such as might assist him in recollecting them, and distinguishing them from each other. At first these signs were very numerous; and when lie got so far as to think his invention was nearly accomplished lie had about two hundred characters in his alpha bet. By the aid of his daughter, uhc seemed to enter into the genius of his labois. lie reduced them, at last, to eighty-six, the number he now uses. lie then set to work to make these characters mere comely to the eye, and succeeded—as yet lie had not the know ledge of the pen as an instru ment; but made bis characters on a piece of bark w ith a knit® or nail.-— At this time he sent to the Indian a- gent, or some trader in the nation, for paper and pen. Ilis ink w as easily made from some cf the bark of the forest trees, whose coloring propertied he had previously known—and after seeing the construction of the pen, he' soon learned to make one, but at first lie made it without a slit; this incon* venience was, however, quickly re moved by bis sagacity. His mxt difficulty was to make bis invention known to his countrymen; ' lor by tins time he had become so ab- ! stracted from bis tribe and their usual pursuits, that lie was viewed with a» ( ye of suspicion. Ilis former com panions passed his wigwam without entering it, and mentioned his name as one who was practising improper spells, for notoriety or mischievous purposes, and lie seems to think that he should have been hardly dealt with, if his docile and unambitious disposi tion bad not been so generally ac- know lodged by his tribe—at length he summoned some of the most distin guished of his nation in order ti> make Ids communication to them—and after giving them the best explanation bis discovery that he could, stripping H of all supernatural influence, he proceeded to demonstrate to them in good earnest, that lie had made a dis covery. His daughter who was now liio only pupil, was ordered to go out of hearing, while he requested his friends to name a word or sentiment which he put down, and then she was cgllcd in and read it to them; then the father retired and the daughter wrote, the Indians were wonder- struck; but not entirely satisfied. Sce-quah-yah then proposed that the tribe should select several youth? from among their brightest young men, that he might communicate the mys tery to them This w as at length a* greed to, although there was some lurking suspicion of necromancy in the w hole business. John Maw, (his Indian name I have forgotten.) a full blood, w ith several others, were se lected for this purpose. The tribe watched the youths for several months with anxiety, and when they offered tthemselves for examination, the feel ings of all were wrought up to the highest pitch. The youths were sep arated from their master and from each other, and watched with great care. The uninitiated directed what master and pupil should write to each other, and these tests were viewed in such a manner as not only to destroy their infideliiv, but most firmly to fix their faith. The writers on this or dered a great feast and made Sec- quah-yah conspicuous at it. How nearly is man alike in every age?— Pythagoras did the same on (lie dis covery of an important principle itj geometry. Sce-quah-yah became at once school master, professor, philosopher, and a chief. Ilis countrymen were proud of his talents, and held him in rever ence as one favored by the Gictrt