cause he had espoused. Proud of heart, and with an untamable love of natural liberty, he preferred to enjoy it among the beasts of the forests, or in the dismal and famished recesses of swamps and morasses, rather than bow his haughty spirit to submission, and live dependent and despised in the ease and luxury of the settlements. With heroic qualities and bold achievements that would have graced a civilized warrior, and have rendered him the theme of the poet and the historian, he lived a wanderer and a fugitive in his native land, and went down, like a lonely bark foundering amid darkness and tempest -without a pitying eye to weep his fall, or a friendly hand to record his struggle.

The Indian.—Everett.

[Extract from an oration, delivered September 30th, 1835, at Bloody Brook, South Deerfield, Massachusetts, in commemoration of the battle that occurred at that spot during King Philip's war.]

1. THINK of the country for which the Indians fought! Who can blame them? As Philip looked down from his seat on Mount Hope, that glorious eminence; as he looked down and beheld the lovely scene which spread beneath at a summer sunset, the distant hill-tops blazing with gold, the slanting beams streaming along the waters, the broad plains, the island groups, the majestic forest,-could he be blamed if his heart burned within him as he beheld it all passing, by no tardy process, from beneath his control, into the hands of the stranger?

2. Can we not fancy the feelings with which some strongminded savage, in company with a friendly settler, contemplating the progress already made by the white man, and marking the gigantic strides with which he was advancing into the wilderness, should fold his arms and say, "White man, there is eternal war between me and thee! I quit not the land of my fathers but with my life! In those woods, where I bent my youthful bow, I will still hunt the deer; over yonder waters I will still glide unrestrained in my bark canoe; by

those dashing waterfalls I will still lay up my winter's store of food; on these fertile meadows I will still plant my corn.

3. Stranger, the land is mine! I understand not these paper rights. I gave not my consent, when, as thou sayest, these broad regions were purchased, for a few baubles, of my fathers. They could sell what was theirs; they could sell no How could my father sell that which the Great Spirit sent me into the world to live upon? They knew not what they did. The stranger came-a timid suppliant, few and feeble-and asked to lie down on the red man's bear-skin, and warm himself at the red man's fire, and have a little piece of land to raise corn for his women and children; and now he is become strong, and mighty, and bold, and spreads out his parchment over the whole, and says, 'It is mine!'

4. "Stranger, there is not room for us both. The Great Spirit has not made us to live together. There is poison in the white man's cup; the white man's dog barks at the red man's heels. If I should leave the land of my fathers, whither shall I fly? Shall I go to the south, and dwell among the graves of the Pequots? Shall I go to the west?-the fierce Mohawk, the man-eater, is my foe. Shall I fly to the east? the great water is before me. No, stranger! here I have lived, and here will I die; and if here thou abidest, there is eternal war between me and thee. Thou hast taught me thy arts of destruction; for that alone I thank thee. And now take heed to thy steps! The red man is thy foe!

5. "When thou goest forth by day, my bullet shall whistle by thee; when thou liest down at night, my knife is at thy throat. The noonday sun shall not discover thy enemy, and the darkness of midnight shall not protect thy rest. Thou shalt plant in terror, and I will reap in blood; thou shalt sow the earth with corn, and I will strew it with ashes; thou shalt go forth with the sickle, and I will follow after with the scalping-knife; thou shalt build, and I will burn, till the white man or the Indian shall cease from the land. Go thy way for this time in safety; but remember, stranger, there is eternal war between me and thee!"

The Last of the Red Men.-Bryant.

[The following lines portray with picturesque distinctness the melancholy fate of the Indians of this continent-as they have gradually melted away before the exterminating march of the resistless white settler.]

THE sun's last ray was glowing fair, on crag, and tree, and flood;
And fell in mellow softness where the lonely Indian stood.
Beneath his eye, in living gold, the broad Pacific lay;

Unruffled there, a skiff might hold its bright and fearless way.
Far, far behind him, mountains blue in shading distance melt;
And far beyond, the dark woods grew, where his forefathers dwelt!
No breathing sound was in the air, as, leaning on his bow,
A lone and weary pilgrim there, he muttered stern and slow:
"Far by Ohio's mighty river, bright star, I've worshipped thee!
My native stream-its bosom never the red man more may see!
The pale-face rears his wigwam where our Indian hunters roved;
His hatchet fells the forest fair our Indian maidens loved.

A thousand warriors bore in war the token of my sires;
On all the hills were seen afar their blazing council-fires!
The foeman heard their war-whoop shrill, and held his breath in fear;
And in the wood, and on the hill, their arrows pierced the deer.
Where are they now?—the stranger's tread is on their silent place!
Yon fading light on me is shed-the last of all my race!

Where are they now?-in summer's light, go seek the winter's snow!
Forgotten is our name and might, and broken is our bow!

The white man came; his bayonets gleam where sachems held their

sway;

And, like the shadow of a dream, our tribe has passed away!”

Capture of Quebec and Death of General Wolfe.Lossing.

[In 1759, during the war waged by the English against the French assisted by the Indians, and hence known as the "French and Indian War," the command of an expedition designed to take Quebec, was given to General Wolfe, who had already acquired considerable distinction during the war. With an army of eight thousand men, he ascended the St. Lawrence River as far as the Isle of Orleans, where, in June, he landed his whole force in safety. Taking possession of Point Levi, opposite Quebec, he established a battery there, which, though it destroyed the buildings near the river's edge, did but little damage to that part of the city situated on the promontory.

Becoming convinced that the battery was not near enough to accomplish the reduction of the place, he determined upon a bold attack. Accordingly, on the 31st of July, an attempt was made upon the enemy's intrenchments, but it resulted in defeat and the loss of nearly five hundred men. This is known as the battle of Montmorencí. The subsequent operations are described in the following extract from Lossing's "Life of Washington."]

1. WOLFE was greatly dispirited by this repulse from the French works, for he was very sensitive to censure, and he expected much for this miscarriage. The emotions of his mind, co-operating with great fatigue of body, brought on a fever and dysentery, which nearly proved fatal, and it was almost a month before he was able to resume his command in person. Having recovered sufficiently to write, he drew up a dispatch to Pitt [the English Prime-minister] on the 2d of September. After detailing the events, referring to his illness, and frankly confessing that he had called a council of war, to consult for the general safety, he said: "We have almost the whole force of Canada to oppose us. In this situation there is such a choice of difficulties, that I own myself at a loss how to determine. The affairs of Great Britain require the most vigorous measures; but then the courage of a handful of brave men should be exerted only where there is some hope of a favorable event."

2. When this letter reached England, it excited consternation and danger. Pitt feared that he had been mistaken in his favorite general, and that the next news would be that he had either been destroyed or had capitulated. But in the conclusion of his melancholy epistle, Wolfe had said that he would do his best; and that "best" turned out to be a miracle of war. He declared that he would rather die than be brought to a courtmartial for miscarrying; and, in conjunction with his brigadiers and Admiral Saunders, he concerted, while stretched upon his bed in his tent, a plan for scaling the almost inaccessible Heights of Abraham, and gaining possession of that elevated plateau in the rear of Quebec.

3. The camp of Montmorenci was now broken up, and all the troops and artillery, except a garrison left on the island of Orleans, were conveyed to Point Levi, and there taken, by a part of the fleet, far up the river, while the remainder lingered and made feigned preparations for a second attack upon Montcalm's intrenchments at Beauport (bo'port). De Bougainville (boo'gahn-vil) was sent with fifteen hundred men to watch the movements of the British above Quebec; and so deceived was

the French commander by their manoeuvres, that he was fully persuaded that his camp was to be attacked.

4. Wolfe, though weak and suffering, resolved to lead the expedition, and he was with the troops that ascended the river. It was the 12th of September, and the brief Canadian summer was over. After midnight, while clouds were gathering in the firmament, the army left the vessels; and in flat-boats, without oars or sails, they glided down noiselessly with the tide, followed by the ships soon afterward. Wolfe was in good spirits, yet there was evidently a presentiment of speedy death in his mind.

5. At his evening mess on the ship, he composed and sang impromptu that little song of the camp, commencing—

"Why, soldiers, why,

Should we be melancholy, boys?

Why, soldiers, why

Whose business 'tis to die!"

And as he sat among his officers, and floated softly down the river at the past-midnight hour, a shadow seemed to come upon his heart, and he repeated, in low, musing tones, that touching stanza of Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard"

"The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour:

The paths of glory lead but to the grave!"

At the close he whispered: "Now, gentlemen, I would prefer being the author of that poem to the glory of beating the French to-morrow."

6. The flotilla reached a cove which Wolfe had marked for a landing-place (and which still bears his name), before daybreak, and there debarked. At the head of the main division, Wolfe pushed eagerly up a narrow and rough ravine; while the light infantry and Highlanders, under Colonel Howe, climbed the steep acclivity by the aid of the maple, spruce, and ash saplings and shrubs, which covered its rugged face. The sergeant's guard on its brow was soon dispersed, and at dawn,