m the untutored Indian was not lost upon
him. It was made the means of bringing him to a knowledge of his own
sinfulness in the sight of God, and his deficiencies in duty toward
his fellow men. He was led by the Holy Spirit to feel his need of
Christ's atoning blood; and ere many months passed, Mary Sullivan and
her husband both gave satisfactory evidence that they had indeed
"passed from death unto life."

Carcoochee's kindness was repaid to him indeed a hundred fold. A long
time elapsed before any vital change of heart was visible in him; but
at length it pleased the Lord to bless the unwearied teaching of his
white friends to his spiritual good, and to give an answer to the
prayer of faith. The Indian was the first native convert baptized by
the American missionary, who came about two years after to a station
some few miles distant from Sullivan's cottage. After a lengthened
course of instruction and trial the warrior, who once had wielded the
tomahawk in mortal strife against both whites and redskins, went
forth, armed with a far different weapon, "even the sword of the
Spirit, which is the word of God," to make known to his heathen
countrymen "the glad tidings of great joy," that "Christ Jesus came
into the world to save sinners." He told them that "whosoever
believeth on him should not perish, but have everlasting life,"
whether they be Jews or Gentiles, bond or free, white or red, for "we
are all one in Christ." Many years he thus labored, until, worn out
with toil and age, he returned to his white friend's home, where in a
few months he fell asleep in Jesus, giving to his friends the certain
hope of a joyful meeting hereafter at the resurrection of the just.

Many years have passed since then. There is no trace now of the
cottage of the Sullivans, who both rest in the same forest churchyard,
where lie the bones of Carcoochee; but their descendants still dwell
in the same township. Often does the gray-haired grandsire tell this
little history to his rosy grandchildren, while seated under the
stately magnolia which shades the graves of the quiet sleepers of whom
he speaks. And the lesson which he teaches to his youthful hearers, is
one which all would do well to bear in mind, and act upon; namely,
"Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to
them."

Speak not harshly--learn to feel
Another's woes, another's weal;
Of malice, hate, and guile, instead,
By friendship's holy b