Think

ye he loved not? Who stood by, And in his toils took part?

Woman was there to bless his eye,

The savage had a heart!
Think ye he prayed not?

When on high

He heard the thunders roll,
What bade him look beyond the sky?
The savage had a soul!

3 I venerate the Pilgrim's cause,
Yet for the red man dare to plead
We bow to Heaven's recorded laws,
He turned to Nature for a creed
Beneath the pillared dome,

We seek our God in prayer;

Through boundless woods he loved to roam,
And the Great Spirit worshipped there.
But one, one fellow-throb with us he felt;
To one divinity with us he knelt;

Freedom, the self-same freedom we adore,

Bade him defend his violated shore.

He saw the cloud, ordained to grow
And burst upon his hills in woe;
He saw his people withering by,
Beneath the invader's evil eye;

Strange feet were trampling on his fathers' bones; At midnight hour he woke to gaze

Upon his happy cabin's blaze,

And listen to his children's dying groans.

He saw, and, maddening at the sight,
Gave his bold bosom to the fight;
To tiger-rage his soul was driven;
Mercy was not, or sought, or given;
The pale man from his lands must fly, -
He would be free, or he would die.

Their fires are out from hill and shore;
No more for them the wild deer bounds;
The plough is on their hunting-grounds;
The pale man's axe rings through their woods;
The pale man's sail skims o'er their floods;
Their pleasant springs are dry;

Their children, look! by power oppressed,
Beyond the mountains of the west

Their children go-to die!

4 0, doubly lost! Oblivion's shadows close
Around their triumphs and their woes.
On other realms, whose suns have set,
Reflected radiance lingers yet;

There sage and bard have shed a light
That never shall go down in night;
There time-crowned columns stand on high,
To tell of them who cannot die;

Even we, who then were nothing, kneel

In homage there, and join earth's general peal.
But the doomed Indian leaves behind no trace
To save his own, or serve another race;

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;

His heraldry is but a broken bow,
His history but a tale of

wrong

and woe,

His very name must be a blank.

5 Cold, with the beast he slew he sleeps;
O'er him no filial spirit weeps;

No crowds throng round, no anthem notes ascend,
To bless his coming and embalm his end;

Even that he lived, is for his conqueror's tongue;
By foes alone his death-song must be sung:
No chronicles but theirs shall tell

His mournful doom to future times;
May these upon his virtues dwell,

And in his fate forget his crimes.

CX. - AMERICAN LABORERS.

NAYLOR.

[Extract from a speech delivered in the House of Representatives by HON. C. NAYLOR, Member of Congress from Pennsylvania.]

THE gentleman, sir, has misconceived the spirit and tendency of northern institutions. He is ignorant of northern character. He has forgotten the history of his country. Preach insurrection to the northern laborers! 5 Who are the northern laborers? The history of your country is their history. The renown of your country is their renown. The brightness of their doings is emblazoned on its every page. Blot from your annals the words and the doings of northern laborers, and the history of 10 your country presents but a universal blank.

Sir, who was he that disarmed the Thunderer; wrested from his grasp the bolts of Jove; calmed the troubled ocean; became the central sun of the philosophical system of his age, shedding his brightness and effulgence on the 15 whole civilized world; whom the great and mighty of the earth delighted to honor; who participated in the achievement of your independence, prominently assisted in moulding your free institutions, and the beneficial effects of whose wisdom will be felt to the last moment of "recorded 20 time?" Who, sir, I ask, was he? A northern laborer, a Yankee tallow-chandler's son, boy!

a printer's runaway

And who, let me ask the honorable gentleman, who was he that, in the days of our Revolution, led forth a northern army, - and yes, an army of northern laborers, aided the chivalry of South Carolina in their defence 5 against British aggression, drove the spoilers from their firesides, and redeemed her fair fields from foreign invaders? Who was he? A northern laborer, a Rhode Island blacksmith, the gallant General Greene, who left his hammer and his forge, and went forth conquering and to 10 conquer in the battle for our independence! And will you preach insurrection to men like these?

Sir, our country is full of the achievements of northern laborers! Where is Concord, and Lexington, and Princeton, and Trenton, and Saratoga, and Bunker Hill, but in 15 the north? And what, sir, has shed an imperishable renown on the never-dying names of those hallowed spots, but the blood and the struggles, the high daring, and patriotism, and sublime courage, of northern laborers? The whole north is an everlasting monument of the free20 dom, virtue, intelligence, and indomitable independence, of northern laborers! Go, sir, go preach insurrection to men like these!

The fortitude of the men of the north, under intense suffering for liberty's sake, has been almost godlike! 25 History has so recorded it. Who comprised that gallant

army, without food, without pay, shelterless, shoeless, penniless, and almost naked, in that dreadful winter, - the midnight of our Revolution, whose wanderings could be traced by their blood-tracks in the snow; whom no arts 30 could seduce, no appeal lead astray, no sufferings disaffect; but who, true to their country and its holy cause, continued to fight the good fight of liberty, until it finally triumphed? Who, sir, were these men? Why, northern laborers! yes, sir, northern laborers! Who, sir, were

35 Roger Sherman and—but it is idle to enumerate.

Το

name the northern laborers who have distinguished them

selves, and illustrated the history of their country, would require days of the time of this House. Nor is it necessary. Posterity will do them justice. Their deeds haye been recorded in characters of fire!

CXI.- MRS. CAUDLE URGING THE NEED OF SPRING CLOTHING.

JERROLD.

[DOUGLAS WILLIAM JERROLD was born in London January 3, 1803, and died June 8, 1857. He was first a midshipman in the navy, then a printer, and lastly a man of letters by profession. He wrote many successful plays, and was a frequent contributor to the periodical publications of the day. He was a man of brilliant wit in conversation, and highly estimable in conduct and character. His "Caudle Lectures" were published in the London "Punch," and extensively read in England and America.]

5

If there's anything in the world I nate—and you know it—it is, asking you for money. I am sure, for myself, I'd rather go without a thing a thousand times, and I do, the more shame for you to let me.

What do I want now? As if you did n't know! I'm sure, if I'd any money of my own, I'd never ask you for a farthing never! It's painful to me, gracious knows! What do you say? If it's painful, why so often do it? I suppose you call that a joke—one of your club-jokes! 10 As I say, I only wish I'd any money of my own. If there is anything that humbles a poor woman, it is coming to a man's pocket for every farthing. It's dreadful!

Now, Caudle, you shall hear me, for it is n't often I speak. Pray, do you know what month it is? And did 15 you see how the children looked at church to-day-like nobody else's children?

What was the matter with them? Oh! Caudle, how can you ask? Were n't they all in their thick merinoes and beaver bonnets?

What do you say? What of it? What! You'll tell