Chapter I (6)

The Shawnees are placed at the junction of the Konza with the Missouri, extending south and west. They number a little short of 1300, and own a territory of ten thousand square miles, or 6,400,000 acres. They are cultivators and graziers in an advanced state of improvement. Hunting may be occasionally resorted to as a sport or amusement, but it has, years since, been abandoned as a source of subsistence. Indeed, the failure of the game in that region would have rendered the latter imperative, had not their improved habits of industry led to it. This tribe have essentially conquered their aversion to labor. They drive oxen and horses trained to the plough. They split rails and build fences. They erect substantial cabins and barns. They have old corn in their cribs from year to year. They own good saddle-horses and saddles, and other articles of caparison, and a traveller or visitor will find a good meal, a clean bed, and kind treatment in their settlements.

Next in position to the Shawnees are the Delawares, the descendants of the ancient Lenno Lenapees of Pennsylvania. Allies and kindred in their ancient position, they are still in juxtaposition in their new Their tract begins at the junction of the Konza and Missouri on the north, and after running up the former to the Konza reserve, extends north and west so as to embrace it on the north. It contains about 2450 square miles, or 2,208,000 acres. They number, at the last dates to which we have referred, 826 souls, and are on the increase. In point of habits, industry, and improvement, they are perhaps not inferior to any of the northern stocks. Shielded from intemperance by their position, out of the State limits, where they are exclusively under the influence and protection of Congress laws, this tribe, together with the entire circle of Indian communities on that frontier, has been for some years in a favourable position for recovering and developing their true energies. They have, within a few years, received into their protection a small band(182) of the Monceys, and a smaller one, of 74, of the Stockbridges: the latter, we need hardly inform the intelligent reader, are descendants of the ancient Mohegans, and the former of the Minsi and Minnisinks, who, at the era of the colonization of "Nova Belgica" and New York, were respectively located on the east and the west banks of the Hudson. The Stockbridges are civilized; the Munsees less so, but industrious. Both are poor, and without funds.

Immediately succeeding the Delawares are the Kickapoos, an erratic race, who, under various names, in connection with the Foxes and Sacs, have, in good keeping with one of their many names,[50] skipped over half the continent, to the manifest discomfort of both German and American philologists and ethnographers, who, in searching for the so-called "Mascotins," have followed, so far as their results are concerned, an _ignis fatuus_. The Kickapoos have 12,000 square miles, or 768,000 acres. It is a choice, rich tract, and they are disposed, with the example of the Delawares and Shawnees, to profit by it. They raise corn and cattle, hogs and horses, and are prosperous. Their numbers, in 1840, were 470. There is a tract of 200 square miles, on the Great and Little Namaha, assigned to the metifs, or descendants of mixed blood, of the Iowas, Otoes, and Missouris. These separate the removed and semi-civilized tribes, south and west of the Missouri, from the wild indigenes--we mean the Otoes, the Pawnees, the Omahaws, and the Sioux, who extend over vast tracts, and exist without any sensible improvement in their condition. The same remark may be applied to the Konzas, who are, however, hemmed in between the Delawares and the Shawnees, except on their western borders. It is no part of our purpose to consider these tribes, as, over and above the influence of contiguous examples, they constitute no part of the evidence affecting the general question of the plan of removal.

That this evidence, as now briefly sketched, is favorable, and indeed highly favorable, to the general condition and prosperity of the removed tribes, is, we apprehend, clearly manifest. Not only have they been placed beyond the wasting influence of causes which oppressed them, within the circle of the State communities; but they have received in exchange for their eastern lands, a territory which, as a whole, is highly fertile and salubrious. It is a territory which has required little comparative labor to cultivate, made up as it is of mixed forests and prairies. It is also, viewed _in extenso_, well watered, having those noble streams, the Red River, the Arkansas, the Konza, the Platte, and the Missouri, with their tributaries, running through it. The range which it affords for cattle and stock, and the abundance of wild hay, of a nutritious quality, has proved very favorable to an incipient agricultural population, and greatly mitigated the ordinary labors of farming in northern climates. There are no latitudes in North America more favorable to the growth of corn. The cotton plant has been introduced by the Choctaws and Chickasaws, on the banks of Red river. It is a region abounding in salt springs and gypsum beds, both which must hereafter be fully developed, and will prove highly advantageous. It is above the first or principal rapids of the great streams running down the plateau of the Rocky Mountains, and consequently affords sites for water-mills, which are scarce and almost unknown on the lower Arkansas. There is, indeed, a combination of circumstances, which are calculated to favor the General Government plan, and foster the Indians in a general attempt at civilisation and self-government. And we look with interest, and not without anxiety, at the result of the experiment.

We are aware that there are trials before them, arising from great diversity of feelings and opinions, and states of civilisation. Some of the tribes are powerful, advanced, and wealthy; some feeble and poor. Education has very unequally affected them. Laws are in their embryo state. The Gospel has been but partially introduced. In clothing the native councils with some of the powers of a congress, and regulating their action by constitutional fixity, there is great care and deliberation required, not, at once, to grasp too much. There is perhaps yet greater danger in enlarging the authority of the chiefs and sagamores into something like presidential dimensions. The natives have great powers of imitation; and it is to be feared that they will content themselves by imitating things which they do not fully understand or appreciate. The national character of the Indians is eminently suspicious. There is a fear to trust others, even themselves. Delegated power is narrowly watched, and often begrudged when given. The acts of their public men are uniformly impugned. The thought seems hardly to be entertained by the common Indians, that an officer may be guided by right and honest motives. The principle of suspicion has, so to say, eaten out the Indian heart. The jealousy with which he has watched the white man, in all periods of his history, is but of a piece with that with which he watches his chiefs, his neighbors, and his very family. Exaltation of feeling, liberality of sentiment, justness of reasoning, a spirit of concession, and that noble faith and trust which arise from purity and virtue, are the characteristics of civilisation; and we should not be disappointed if they do not, all at once, grow and flourish in these nascent communities. Still, our hopes predominate over our fears. Where so much has been accomplished as we see by the Cherokees, the Choctaws, and Chickasaws, and our most advanced northern tribes, we expect more. From the tree that bears blossoms, we expect fruit.

We have no expectation, however, that without some principles of general political association, the tribes can permanently advance. To assume the character and receive the respect of a commonwealth, they must have the political bonds of a commonwealth. Our Indian tribes have never possessed any of these bonds. They are indeed the apparent remnants of old races, which have been shivered into fragments, and never found the capacity to re-unite. The constant tendency of all things, in a state of nature, has been to divide. The very immensity of the continent, its varied fertility and resources, and its grand and wild features, led to this. Hitherto, the removed tribes in the West have opposed an associated government. They have stoutly and effectually resisted and rejected this part of the government scheme. They fear, the agents say, it is some plan to bring them under the civil yoke. Time, reflection, and education must tend to correct this. More than all, their civil discussions must tend to show the necessity of a more enlarged and general frame of government, in which some individual rights must be yielded to the public, to secure the enjoyment of the rest. We think there is some evidence of the acknowledgment of this want, in their occasional general councils, at which all the tribes have been invited to be present. During the last year (1843) such a convocation was held at Tablequah, the seat of the Cherokee government. At this, there were delegates present from the Creeks, Chickasaws, Delawares, Shawnees, Piankashaws, Weas, Osages, Senecas, Stockbridges, Ottowas, Chippewas, Peorias, Pottowattomies, and Seminoles. The result of these deliberations, we are informed, was a compact in which it was agreed:--

1. To maintain peace and friendship among each other.

2. To abstain from the law of retaliation for offences.

3. To provide for improvements in agriculture, the arts, and manufactures.

4. To provide against any cession of their territory, in any form.

5. To punish crimes, committed by one tribe, in the bounds of another.

6. To provide for a general citizenship among the contracting parties.

7. To suppress the use or introduction of ardent spirits.

These are very mixed principles, containing no basis of a government; yet, futile as they are, we apprehend they contain no effective power for their enforcement. A law without a penalty is like a rope of sand. Any of these parties might nullify either of these acts, by neglecting to enforce it. It is, we apprehend, the mere expression of the popular will, in a council, without any binding obligation of the whole, or a majority of the tribes, to compel obedience from the delinquent members. It may, however, lead to further deliberations; and we cannot but regard the movement as one which betokens political forethought and purpose.

Our greatest apprehensions, we must confess, before closing this paper, arise from the peculiar geographical position of the Indian territory with relation to our own. And this could not, perhaps, have been anticipated twenty years ago, when the plan was formed. Our population is on the broad move west. Nothing, it is evident, will now repress them this side of the Pacific. The snowy heights of the Rocky Mountains are already scaled; and we but apply the results of the past to the future, in saying that the path which has been trod by a few, will be trod by many. Now, the removed tribes are precisely in the centre of this path. From the mouth of the Platte, or the Konza, the great highway to the Oregon must run west. Whether this new tide of emigration will be successful or unsuccessful, will those who compose it spare to trample on the red man? Will they suddenly become kind to him, to whom they have been unkind? Will they cease to desire the lands which their children want? Will they consent to see the nation separated by an Indian state? Will they award honors, nay, justice, to that state? Twenty years will answer these questions.

* * * * *

CHOCTAWS.--An appropriation of $113,000 has been made by Congress for the removal and subsistence of the Choctaws now in Mississippi. There are upwards of six thousand in our state, comprising about eleven hundred families. These are under Colonels Johnson and Fisher. The half of the money due the Indians, and to be paid after their landing in their new homes in the West, is to be funded. This will effectually prevent all speculation, and enable the Indians to obtain and hold what is due them. Those now in the state are guarded against all coercive measures for their removal, and left free to go West or remain in their homes in Mississippi.--_Southern Reformer._

FOOTNOTES:

[45] Democratic Review, 1844.

[46] Treaty of Fort Pitt, 1778.

[47] We have only space to say here, that the cession of the Georgia lands was subsequently made by the Lower Creeks under the chieftaincy of General M'Intosh, who was the first to affix his signature to it. For this act he paid the penalty of his life; the Upper Creeks and their adherents, having assembled in arms, surrounded his house, and fired three hundred balls into it, killing its unhappy, but distinguished inmate.

[48] This tribe has, the past year (1843), passed a law expelling all white men who play at cards, from the limits of the nation, whether they have Indian wives or not.

[49] Secretary of War's report, 1843.

[50] This is said, by one interpretation, to mean Rabbit's Ghost.

NURSERY AND CRADLE SONGS OF THE FOREST.

The tickenagun, or Indian cradle, is an object of great pride with an Indian mother. She gets the finest kind of broad cloth she possibly can to make an outer swathing band for it, and spares no pains in ornamenting it with beads and ribbons, worked in various figures. In the lodges of those who can afford it, there is no article more showy and pretty than the full bound cradle. The frame of the cradle itself is a curiosity. It consists of three pieces. The vertebral board, which supports the back, the hoop or foot-board, which extends tapering up each side, and the arch or bow, which springs from each side, and protects the face and head. These are tied together with deer's sinews or pegged. The whole structure is very light, and is carved with a knife by the men, out of the linden or maple tree.

Moss constitutes the bed of the infant, and is also put between the child's feet to keep them apart and adjust the shape of them, according to custom. A one-point blanket of the trade, is the general and immediate wrapper of the infant, within the hoop, and the ornamented swathing band is wound around the whole, and gives it no little resemblance to the case of a small mummy. As the bow passes directly above the face and eyes, trinkets are often hung upon this, to amuse it, and the child gets its first ideas of ornament from these. The hands are generally bound down with the body, and only let out occasionally, the head and neck being the only part which is actually free. So bound and laced, hooped and bowed, the little fabric, with its inmate, is capable of being swung on its mother's back, and carried through the thickest forest without injury. Should it even fall no injury can happen. The bow protects the only exposed part of the frame. And when she stops to rest, or enters the lodge, it can be set aside like any other household article, or hung up by the cradle strap on a peg. Nothing, indeed, could be better adapted to the exigencies of the forest life. And in such tiny fabrics, so cramped and bound, and bedecked and trinketed, their famous Pontiacs and King Philips, and other prime warriors, were once carried, notwithstanding the skill they afterwards acquired in wielding the lance and war club.

The Indian child, in truth, takes its first lesson in the _art of endurance_, in the cradle. When it cries it need not be unbound to nurse it. If the mother be young, she must put it to sleep herself. If she have younger sisters or daughters they share this care with her. If the lodge be roomy and high, as lodges sometimes are, the cradle is suspended to the top poles to be swung. If not, or the weather be fine, it is tied to the limb of a tree, with small cords made from the inner bark of the linden, and a vibratory motion given to it from head to foot by the mother or some attendant. The motion thus communicated, is that of the pendulum or common swing, and may be supposed to be the easiest and most agreeable possible to the child. It is from this motion that the leading idea of the cradle song is taken.

I have often seen the red mother, or perhaps a sister of the child, leisurely swinging a pretty ornamented cradle to and fro in this way, in order to put the child to sleep, or simply to amuse it. The following specimens of these wild-wood chaunts, or wigwam lullabys, are taken from my notes upon this subject, during many years of familiar intercourse with the aboriginals. If they are neither numerous nor attractive, placed side by side with the rich nursery stores of more refined life, it is yet a pleasant fact to have found such things even existing at all amongst a people supposed to possess so few of the amenities of life, and to have so little versatility of character.

Meagre as these specimens seem, they yet involve no small degree of philological diligence, as nothing can be more delicate than the inflexions of these pretty chaunts, and the Indian woman, like her white sister, gives a delicacy of intonation to the roughest words of her language. The term wa-wa often introduced denotes a _wave_ of the air, or the circle described by the motion of an object through it, as we say, swing, swing, a term never applied to a wave of water. The latter is called tegoo, or if it be crowned with foam, beta.

In introducing the subjoined specimens of these simple see saws of the lodge and forest chaunts, the writer felt, that they were almost too frail of structure to be trusted, without a gentle hand, amidst his rougher materials. He is permitted to say, in regard to them, that they have been exhibited to Mrs. Elizabeth Oakes Smith, herself a refined enthusiast of the woods, and that the versions from the original given, are from her chaste and truthful pen.

In the following arch little song, the reader has only to imagine a playful girl trying to put a restless child to sleep, who pokes its little head, with black hair and keen eyes over the side of the cradle, and the girl sings, imitating its own piping tones.

Ah wa nain? (Who is this?)
Ah wa nain? (Who is this?)
Wa yau was sa-- (Giving light--meaning the light of the eye)
Ko pwasod. (On the top of my lodge.)

Who is this? who is this? eye-light bringing
To the roof of the lodge?

And then she assumes the tone of the little screech owl, and answers--

Kob kob kob (It is I--the little owl)
Nim be e zhau (Coming,)
Kob kob kob (It is I--the little owl)
Nim be e zhau (Coming,)
Kit che--kit che. (Down! down!)

It is I, it is I, hither swinging, (wa wa)
Dodge, dodge, baby dodge;

And she springs towards it and down goes the little head. This is repeated with the utmost merriment upon both sides.

Who is this, who is this eye-light bringing
To the roof of my lodge?
It is I, it is I, hither swinging,
Dodge, dodge, baby dodge.

Here is another, slower and monotonous, but indicating the utmost maternal content:

Swinging, swinging, lul la by,
Sleep, little daughter sleep,
'Tis your mother watching by,
Swinging, swinging she will keep,
Little daughter lul la by.

'Tis your mother loves you dearest,
Sleep, sleep, daughter sleep,
Swinging, swinging, ever nearest,
Baby, baby, do not weep;
Little daughter, lul la by.

Swinging, swinging, lul la by,
Sleep, sleep, little one,
And thy mother will be nigh--
Swing, swing, not alone--
Little daughter, lul la by.

This of course is exceedingly simple, but be it remembered these chaunts are always so in the most refined life. The ideas are the same, that of tenderness and protective care only, the ideas being few, the language is in accordance. To my mind it has been a matter of extreme interest to observe how almost identical are the expressions of affection in all states of society, as though these primitive elements admit of no progress, but are perfect in themselves. The e-we-yea of the Indian woman is entirely analogous to the lul la by of our language, and will be seen to be exceedingly pretty in itself.

2. The original words of this, with their literal import, are also added, to preserve the identity.

(a.)

Wa wa--wa wa--wa we yea, (Swinging, twice, lullaby.)
Nebaun--nebaun--nebaun, (Sleep thou, thrice.)
Nedaunis-ais, e we yea, (Little daughter, lullaby.)
Wa wa--wa wa--wa wa, (Swinging, thrice.)
Nedaunis-ais, e we yea, (Little daughter lullaby.)

(b.)

Keguh, ke gun ah wain e ma, (Your mother cares for you.)
Nebaun--nebaun--nebaun, e we yea, (Sleep, thrice, lullaby.)
Kago, saigizze-kain, nedaunis-ais, (Do not fear, my little daughter.)
Nebaun--nebaun--nebaun, (Sleep, thrice.)
Kago, saigizze-kain, wa wa, e we yea, (third line repeated.)

(c.)

Wa wa--wa wa--wa we yea, (Swinging, twice, lullaby.)
Kaween neezheka kediausee, (Not alone art thou.)
Ke kan nau wai, ne me go, suhween, (Your mother is caring for you.)
Nebaun--nebaun--nedaunis-ais, (Sleep, sleep, my little daughter.)
Wa wa--wa wa--wa we yea, (Swinging, &c. lullaby.)
Nebaun--nebaun--nebaun, (Sleep! sleep! sleep.[51])

THE HARE AND THE LYNX.

3. The story of the Wabose, (Hare,) and the Pighieu, (Lynx,) will at once remind the reader of the so often recited tale of little Red Riding Hood, in which the reciter imitates the tones of the wolf, and the little nursery listener hears with a growing amazement, and starts as if he felt the real wolf's teeth at the close.

This story is partly spoken and partly sung. The Teller imitating alternately the Hare, and its enemy, the Lynx.

There was once, she says, a little Hare living in the lodge with its grandmother, who was about to send it back to its native land. When it had gone but a little way, a Lynx appeared in the path, and began to sing,

Where pretty white one?
Where little white one,
Where do you go?

Tshwee! tshwee! tshwee! tshwee! cried the Hare, and ran back to its grandmother. "See, grandmother," said the timid little creature, "what the Lynx is saying to me," and she repeated the song. "Ho! Nosis," that is to say, courage my grandchild, run along, and tell him you are going home to your native land: so the Hare went back and began to sing,

To the point of land I roam,
For there is the white one's home,--
Whither I go.

Then the Lynx looked at the trembling Hare, and began to sing,

Little white one, tell me why
Like to leather, thin and dry,
Are your pretty ears?

Tshwee! tshwee! tshwee! tshwee! cried the Hare, and she ran back to her grandmother, and repeated the words. "Go Nosis, and tell him your uncles fixed them so, when they came from the South." So the Hare ran back and sang,

From the south my uncles came,
And they fixed my ears the same,--
Fixed my slender ears.

and then the Hare laid her pink ears upon her shoulders, and was about to go on, but the Lynx began to sing again,--

Why, why do you go away?
Pretty white one, can't you stay?
Tell me why your little feet,
Are made so dry and very fleet?

Tshwee! tshwee! tshwee! tshwee! said the poor little Hare, and she ran back again to the lodge to ask again. "Ho! Nosis!" said the grandmother, who was old and tired, "do not mind him, nor listen to him, nor answer him, but run on."

The Hare obeyed, and ran as fast as she could. When she came to the spot where the Lynx had been, she looked round, but there was no one there, and she ran on. But the Lynx had found out all about the little Hare, and knew she was going across to the neck of land; and he had nothing to do but reach it first, and waylay her; which he did: and when the innocent creature came to the place, and had got almost home, the Lynx sprang out of the thicket and eat her up.

The original chant, omitting the narrative part as given above, runs in this fashion, word for word.

Lynx. Tah kau (where ah!)
Tah hau (where ah!)
Wa bose (little white one)
Wa bose (little white one)
Ke te e zha (are you going?)
Hare. Na kwa oushing (to the point of land)
Ain dah nuk e aum baun (in my native country)
In de e zha (I go.)
Lynx. Au neen (what!)
Au neen (what!)
A nau be kaus o yun aig (causes it,)
Kish ke mun ing (why like stripes of leather)
Ish o tow ug a una, (are your ears?)
Hare. Nish ish sha ug (my uncles,)
O sha wun e nong (when from the south)
Ke e zha waud (they came,)
Ningeeaizh e goob un eeg (they did fix me so.)
Lynx. Tah kau (where ah!)
Tah kau (where ah!)
Wa bose (little white one,)
Wa bose (little white one,)
Ke de e zha (are you going?)
Au neen (why?)
Na naub o kos o yun (look they so,)
Kish ke mun a, (like dry bits of leather,)
I izh e zida una, (your feet ha!)

4. THE KITE AND THE EAGLE.

This is a specimen of Indian satire. The coward is boastful when there is no danger: pretension succeeds in the absence of real merit! A Kite was boasting how high he could fly, and ventured to speak disparagingly of the eagle, not knowing that the latter overheard him. He began to sing in a loud voice,

I upward fly
I! I alone disdain the air
Till I hang as by a hair
Poised in the sky.

The Eagle answers disdainfully, looking down from a branch far above the Kite,

Who _mounts_ the sky?
Who is this, with babbling tongue
As he had on the storm-cloud hung,
Who flies so high?

The Kite in a shrinking, feeble voice,

The great Khakake
I've sometimes thought he flew so high
That he must see within the sky
The dawn awake.

The Eagle despises him, and yet cannot forbear to answer,

I spurn you all, ye prating throng
How often have I passed ye by
When my broad pinions fleet and strong,
Soared up where leapt the thunder cry!
Nor ye with feeble wing might dare,
Those hill-tops high, to mount in air.

and he soared off, up, up into the sky till the boaster could not behold him. But no sooner was the Kite left alone to himself than he began to sing again so as to be heard on every side,

I upward fly
I, I alone disdain the air
Till I hang as by a hair
Poised in the sky.

Literally thus.

Kite. Neen a (I alone)
Neen a (I alone)
Ta wa e ya (can go up)
Bai bwau }
As shau dau } (so as to seem as if hanging by a hair)
Wa ke ge naun }
O shau wush ko geezhig oong a (from the blue sky.)
Eagle. Au wa nain (Who is this?)
Au wa nain (Who is this?)
Tshe mud je wa wa (with babbling tongue, who boasts)
Ke pim o saing. (of flying so high?)

Kite (shrinkingly) replies, "Oh I was only singing of the great Khakake, it is he who is said to fly so high."

Eagle disdainfully replies, "Tshe mud je wa wa, that is great babbler, or bad-tongue, you are below my notice," &c., and soars aloft.

Kite, resuming its boasting tone, as soon as the eagle is out of hearing,

Neen a (I alone &c., the whole being a
Neen a repetition of the first part.)
Ta we ya
Bai bwau
As shau dau
Wa ke ge naun,
O shau wush ko, geezhig oong a.

5. THE RAVEN AND WOODPECKER.

A still farther view of Indian manners and opinions is hid under this simple chant. Opinion among the forest race, makes the whole animated creation cognizant and intelligent of their customs.

A young married woman is supposed to go out from the lodge, and busy herself in breaking up dry limbs, and preparing wood, as if to lay in a store for a future and approaching emergency.

A raven, perched on a neighbouring tree, espies her, at her work, and begins to sing; assuming the expected infant to be _a boy_.

In dosh ke zhig o mun
In dosh ke zhig o mun
In dosh ke zhig o mun

My eyes! my eyes! my eyes! Alluding to the boy (and future man) killing animals as well as men, whose eyes will be left, as the singer anticipates, to be picked out by ravenous birds. So early are the first notions of war implanted.

A woodpecker, sitting near, and hearing this song, replies; assuming the sex of the infant to be _a female_.

Ne mos sa mug ga
Ne mos sa mug ga
Ne mos sa mug ga.

My worms! my worms! my worms! Alluding to the custom of the female's breaking up dry and dozy wood, out of which, it could pick its favourite food, being the mösa or wood-worm.

* * * * *

Want of space induces the writer to defer, to a future number, the remainder of his collection of these cradle and nursery chants. They constitute in his view, rude as they are, and destitute of metrical attractions, a chapter in the history of the human heart, in the savage phasis, which deserves to be carefully recorded. It has fallen to his lot, to observe more perhaps, in this department of Indian life, than ordinary, and he would not acquit himself of his duty to the race, were he to omit these small links out of their domestic and social chain. The tie which binds the mother to the child, in Indian life, is a very strong one, and it is conceived to admit of illustration in this manner. It is not alone in the war-path and the council, that the Red Man is to be studied. To appreciate his whole character, in its true light, he must be followed into his lodge, and viewed in his seasons of social leisure and retirement. If there be any thing warm and abiding in the heart or memory of the man, when thus at ease, surrounded by his family, it must come out here; and hence, indeed, the true value of his lodge lore, of every kind.

It is out of the things mental as well as physiological, that pertain to maternity, that philosophy must, in the end, construct the true ethnological chain, that binds the human race, in one comprehensive system of unity.

FOOTNOTES:

[51] These translations are entirely literal--the verbs to "sleep" and to "fear," requiring the imperative mood, second person, present tense, throughout. In rendering the term "wa-wa" in the participial form some doubt may exist, but this has been terminated by the idea of the _existing_ motion, which is clearly implied, although the word is not marked by the usual form of the participle in _ing_. The phrase lul-la-by, is the only one in our language, which conveys the evident meaning of the choral term e-we-yea. The substantive verb is wanting, in the first line of b. and the third of c. in the two forms of the verb, to care, or take care of a person; but it is present in the phrase "kediausee" in the second line of c. These facts are stated, not that they are of the slightest interest to the common reader, but that they may be examined by philologists, or persons curious in the Indian grammar.

LANGUAGES OF THE PACIFIC ISLANDS.

The Polynesian languages, like those of the Algonquin group of North America, have inclusive and exclusive pronouns to express the words _we_, _ours_, and _us_. They have also causative verbs such as, to make afraid, to make happy, &c., but while there appears this analogy in grammatical principles, there are some strong points of disagreement, and there appears to be no analogy whatever in the sounds of the language. There are eight well characterized dialects in the Polynesian family. They are the Tahitian, the Owyhee, [Hawaiian] Marquesan, or Washingtonian, Austral island, Hervey island, Samoan, Tongatabu, and New Zealand. In seven of these, the name for God is Atua, in the eighth, or Tongua dialect, it is Otua. Great resemblances exist in all the vocabularies. Much of the actual difference arises from exchanges of the consonants r and l, h and s, and a few others. They possess the dual number. The scheme of the pronouns is very complete, and provides for nearly all the recondite distinctions of person. Where the vocabulary fails in words to designate objects which were unknown to them before their acquaintance with Europeans, the missionaries have found it to fall in better with the genius of the language, to introduce new words from the Greek, with some modifications. Thus they have introduced _hipo_ for horse, _arenio_ for lamb, _areto_ for bread, and _baptizo_ for baptism.

To continue faithful during a course of prosperity, says Xenophon, hath nothing wonderful in it, but when any set of men continue steadily attached to friends in adversity, they ought, on that account, to be eternally remembered.

There are but two sources only, says Polybius, from whence any real benefit can be derived, our own misfortunes and those that have happened to other men.

One wise counsel, says Euripides, is better than the strength of many.

EARLY SKETCHES OF INDIAN WOMEN.

_From "New England Prospect."_