aged
chief; "I have been looking at your beautiful city--the great water full
of ships, the fine country, and see how prosperous you all are. But,
then, I could not help thinking that this fine country _was ours_. Our
ancestors lived here. They enjoyed it as their own in peace. _It was
the gift of the Great Spirit to them and their children_. At last,
white men came in a great canoe. They only asked to let them tie it to
a tree, lest the water should carry it away. We consented. They then
said some of their people were sick, and they asked permission to land
them, and put them under the shade of the trees. The ice then came, and
they could not go away. They then begged a piece of land to build
wigwams for the winter. We granted it to them. They then asked for
corn to keep them from starving. We furnished it out of our own scanty
supply. They promised to go away when the ice melted. When this
happened, they, instead of going, pointed to the big guns round the
wigwams, and said, `we shall stay here.' Afterwards came more: they
brought intoxicating drinks, of which the Indians became fond. They
persuaded them to sell their land, and, finally, have driven us back,
from time to time, to the wilderness, far from the water, the fish, and
the oysters. They have scared away our game--my people are wasting
away. We live in the want of all things, while you are enjoying
abundance in our fine and beautiful country. This makes me sorry,
brother, and I cannot help it."

These persecutions and repeated acts of cruelty and injustice appear to
have no termination--the work of destruction, commenced with the
Narragansetts, will extend to the Ceminoles, and gradually to the blue
waters of the Pacific. Look even now at the contest maintained by a
handful of Indians in the everglades of Florida. Do they war against
unequal numbers for a crown--for a part of that immense surplus which
overflows from the coffers of a country which was once their own? No--
they fight for the privilege of dying where the bones of their ancestors
lie buried: and yet we, Christians as we call ourselves, deny them that
boon, and drive the lords of the soil into the den of the otter.

In referring to the splendid specimens of Indian oratory, where, I would
ask, can you find such wisdom, such lofty and pure eloquence, among the
Chinese and Tartars, even at this day?

The Indians, like the Hebrews, speak in parables. Of their dialects,
ther