hers. They shed no tears; they utter no cries; no groans. something in their hearts, which passes speech. mething in their looks, not of vengeance or submisf hard necessity, which stifles both; which chokes ce; which has no aim nor method. It is courage I despair. They linger but for a moment. Their ward. They have passed the fatal stream. It r be repassed by them,-no, never. Yet there etween us and them an impassable gulf. They feel, that there is for them still one remove farther, nor unseen. It is to the general burial-ground ce. as we may, it is impossible not to read, in such a that we know not how to interpret; much of to cruel deeds and deep resentments; much of wrong and perfidy; much of pity mingling with a; much of doubt and misgiving as to the past; ainful recollections; much of dark foreboding. hy may tell us, that conquest in other cases has e conquered into its own bosom; and thus, at no riod, given them the common privileges of subjects; he red men are incapable of such an assimilation. wery nature and character, they can neither unite s with civil institutions, nor with safety be allowed as distinct communities. may suggest, that their ferocious passions, their nt spirit, and their wandering life, disdain the of society; that they will submit to superior force it chains them to the earth by its pressure. A is essential to their habits and pursuits. They er be tamed nor overawed. They subsist by war or and the game of the forest is relinquished only for - game of man. The question, therefore, is necesuced to the consideration, whether the country itself bandoned by civilized man, or maintained by his the right of the strongest. be so; perhaps, in the wisdom of Providence, it so. I pretend not to comprehend, or solve, such difficulties. But neither philosophy nor policy can shut out the feelings of nature. Humanity must continue to sigh at the constant sacrifices of this bold, but wasting race. And Religion, if she may not blush at the deed, must, as she sees the successive victims depart, cling to the altar with a drooping heart, and mourn over a destiny without hope and without example. LESSON LVI. Melancholy Fate of the Indians.-C. SPRAGUE. I VENERATE the pilgrim's cause, We seek our God in prayer; Through boundless woods he loved to roam, He saw the cloud, ordained to grow, Strange feet were trampling on his fathers' bones; Upon his happy cabin's blaze, And listen to his children's dying groans. And was this savage? Say, Ye ancient few, Who struggled through Young freedom's trial-day, at first your sleeping wrath awoke? is every heart with vengeance thrilled, mothers, too, breathe ye no sigh, them who thus could dare to die? ir pangs, as from yon mountain spot,* that gloomy, glorious tale ye tell, your knees your children's children hang, ■, the gallant ones, ye loved so well, the conflict for their country sprang! pride, in all the pride of wo, tell of them, the brave, laid low, Vho for their birthplace bled; pride, the pride of triumph then, tell of them, the matchless men, "rom whom the invaders fled. ye, this holy place who throng, The annual theme to hear, And bid the exulting song and their great names from year to year; invoke the chisel's breathing grace, le majesty their forms to trace; * Bunker Hill. 1 Ye, who the sleeping rocks would raise, Feel that ye, like them, would wake, Alas! for them, their day is o'er, O doubly lost! Oblivion's shadows close Around their triumphs and their woes. Even we, who then were nothing, kneel With his frail breath his power has passed away; His deeds, his thoughts, are buried with his clay. Nor lofty pile, nor glowing page, Shall link him to a future age, Or give him with the past a rank: sheraldry is but a broken bow, history but a tale of wrong and wo, His very name must be a blank. Id, with the beast he slew, he sleeps; vds throng round, no anthem-notes ascend, LESSON LVII. ng Lines of the "Fall of the Indian.”—McLEILAN, ET sometimes, in the gay and noisy street ose sorely-tarnished fortunes we have sung;- e flame of noble daring is gone out, |