small seat; we took pity on them, and granted their request; and they sat down among us. We gave them corn and meat; and, in return, they gave us poison. The white people now having found our country, tidings were sent back, and more came amongst us; yet we did not fear them. We took them to be friends: they called us brothers; we believed them, and gave them a larger seat. At length their number so increased, that they wanted more land: they wanted our country. Our eyes were opened, and we became uneasy.

Wars

took place; Indians were hired to fight against Indians; and many of our people were destroyed. They also distributed liquor amongst us, which has slain thousands.

Brother! Once our seats were large, and yours were small. You have now become a great people, and we have scarcely a place left to spread our blankets. You nave got our country, but, not satisfied, you want to force your religion upon us.

Brother! Continue to listen. You say you are sent to instruct us how to worship the Great Spirit agreeably to his mind, and that if we do not take hold of the religion which you teach, we shall be unhappy hereafter. How do we know this to be true? We understand that your religion is written in a book. If it was intended for us as well as you, why has not the Great Spirit given it to us; and not only to us, but why did he not give to our forefathers the knowledge of that book, with the means of rightly understanding it? We only know what you tell us about it, and having been so often deceived by the white people, how shall we believe what they say? * * * * *

EXERCISE LXXVI.

STORY AND SPEECH OF LOGAN.

In the spring of the year 1774, a robbery was committed by some Indians on certain land adventurers on the river Ohio. The whites in that quarter, according to their custom, undertook to punish this outrage in a

summary way. Captain Michael Cresap, and a certain Daniel Greathouse, leading on these parties, surprised, at different times, travelling and hunting parties of the Indians, having their women and children with them, and murdered many. Among these were, unfortunately, the family of Logan, a chief, celebrated in peace and war, and long distinguished as the friend of the whites.

This unworthy return provoked his vengeance. He accordingly signalized himself in the war which ensued. In the autumn of the same year, a decisive battle was fought at the mouth of the Great Kenawha, between the collected forces of the Shawanese, Mingoes, and Delawares, and a detachment of the Virginia militia. The Indians were defeated, and sued for peace. Logan, however, disdained to be seen among the suppliants. But lest the sincerity of a treaty should be distrusted, from which so distinguished a chief absented himself, he sent by a messenger the following speech, to be delivered to Lord Dunmore.

"I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat; if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. During the course of the last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites, that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, 'Logan is the friend of white men.' I had even thought to have lived with you, but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked, murdered all the relations of Logan, not even sparing my women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it; I have killed many; I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace; but do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one."

PART II.-PIECES OF POETRY.

EXERCISE I.

A PSALM OF LIFE.

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us further than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave Still like muffled drums are beating Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle,-
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act-act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead.

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait!

EXERCISE II.

AMRITION, FALSE AND True.

I WOULD not wear the warrior's wreath,
I would not court his crown;
For love and virtue sink beneath
His dark and vengeful-frown.

I would not seek my fame to build
On glory's dizzy height; -
Her temple is with orphans filled;
Blood soils her sceptre bright.

I would not wear the diadem,
By folly prized so dear;

For want and woe have bought each gen,
And every pearl's a tear.

I would not heap the golden chest
That sordid spirits crave;
For every grain, by penury cursed,
Is gathered from the grave.

No; let my wreath unsullied be,
My fame be virtuous youth;
My wealth be kindness, charity,-
My diadem be truth!

EXERCISE III.

ON VISITING A SCENE OF CHILDHOOD.

LONG years had elapsed since I gazed on the scene, Which my fancy still robed in its freshness of green, The spot where, a school-boy, all thoughtless, I strayed, By the side of the stream, in the gloom of the shade.

thought of the friends who had roamed with me there, When the sky was so blue, and the flowers were so fair,All scattered!—all sundered by mountain and wave, And some in the silent embrace of the grave!

I thought of the green banks that circled around,

With wild flowers, and sweet-brier, and eglantine crowned; I thought of the river, all quiet and bright

As the face of the sky on a blue summer night:

And I thought of the trees, under which we had strayed;
Of the broad leafy boughs, with their coolness of shade;
And I hoped, though disfigured, some token to find
Of the names, and the carvings, impressed on the rind.
All eager, I hastened the scene to behold,

Rendered sacred and dear by the feelings of old;
And I deemed that, unaltered, my eye should explore
This refuge, this haunt, this Elysium of yore.

'T was a dream!-not a token or trace could I view
Of the names that I loved, of the trees that I knew:
Like the shadows of night at the dawning of day,-
"Like a tale that is told," they had vanished

away.
And methought the lone river, that murmured along,
Was more dull in its motion, more sad in its song,
Since the birds, that had nestled and warbled above,
Had all fled from its banks at the fall of the grove.

I paused: - and the moral came home to my heart:
Behold, how of earth all the glories depart!
Our visions are baseless, our hopes but a gleam,
Our staff but a reed,—and our life but a dream.
Then, oh! let us look let our prospects allure -
To scenes that can fade not, to realms that endure;
To glories, to blessings, that triumph sublime
O'er the blightings of change, and the ruins of time.

EXERCISE IV.

A HINT ON STREET MANNERS.

THOUGH books on Manners are not out of print,
An honest tongue may drop a harmless hint.
Stop not, unthinking, every friend you meet,
To spin your wordy fabric in the street: