LETTER XI.

AFTER this dissertation, I went to my apartment and slept till day-break; and then awoke in a feverish glow, a feeling, as of having slept for ages; and I threw up the window, in hopes the fresh air of morning would dissipate this excitement of frame. I had stood, gazing on the approach of day but a very short time, before the chill cast over me a drowsiness so heavy, that I had scarce time to throw myself on the bed, before a profound sleep seized me, and I dreamed as follows:

I seemed to feel an undefinable consciousness of having parted from L, and again crossed the sea. I moved slowly in a path of the woods which surround our village; an unusual gloom seemed to pervade every object; a blue smoky tint hung upon the sky, the forest and the earth: it was certainly light, for I could see far among the trees, and yet it was not the light of morning, of noontide, of evening, of moonshine; it was entirely new and unusual. Besides, I felt a chilling sense of numbness and dread, a foreboding of some

thing terrible and sudden. In an instant the war-whoop was sounded, a party of our nation rushed from a thicket and surrounded me: "Ah!" said the chief, with a grim smile, "you have been absent a long time, but you are welcome home: we too have tarried long, we have patiently awaited your coming; let us hasten." The next moment we stood in the village; a group of our women and children came with looks of impatience and famine: "Give us food," they cried, "we perish with hunger." "We have brought you none," said the warriors, calmly, "our woods are cut down, the deer are driven back, our hunting ground is no more: but we bring you a sweeter morsel, a friend of the white men, who have done these things!-Behold him!" said they, pointing to me :-the females shrieked, and rushed towards me with fury, the men caught the infection and opened a way for them; all receded, save one, who advanced with weapon uplifted, in act to strike, and that was Thou; when the figure of L rose through the earth between us, and arrested your arm. "Hold!" he said, "would you shed a brother's blood? shall Indians any longer fight against Indians?"--"He is a traitor, a runaway," cried the crowd," a friend of our oppressors, who have robbed us of the buffalo, the deer, and

E

the bear, which the Great Spirit, who loves us as well as you, gave us for food and clothing: who dug up the hatchet of war, while they smoked with us the calumet of peace; he is unworthy to live, his blood will be acceptable to us, and must flow."-" Hear me," said L, "it is true, I am a White, but I am also the friend of Indians. He (looking to me) is a friend to me, and to you also. You are right in saying the Great Spirit loves you as well as us; he loves all his children equally; he is alike the friend of the Indian and the European. It is we ourselves who become unnatural enemies to each other, instead of constituting an universal band of brothers, sons of a common parent. It is we, who foolishly suffering our bodies and minds to be enslaved, our feelings to be infuriated to madness more envenomed than the serpent, are set in array to shed each other's blood in the worst of causes, or for none, at the instigation of the tyrants of our species; of wicked men more crafty than the tiger, like him wallowing in blood, destroying in wanton sport. who elevate their hands yet reeking with gore, to implore blessings from the Deity for their work of slaughter; who blasphemously chaunt praises to Him for supposed assistance in the premature destruction of the works of his

Men

hands, in narrowing the span which he has stretched, crying, 'not unto us, but unto thy name, be the praise given!' And yet God is not unjust; it is Man who is unjust to himself; who will not justify the nature bestowed on him. Upon their own showing, these monsters in human shape are condemned; they say, in braggart mood, 'Man is a free agent, he is free to stand or fall; he can distinguish between good and evil.' Good, very right, well-said, ye hypocrites. Then if so it be (and so it is) ought the Supreme to interfere on every occasion, when man oversteps the demarcation between good and evil chalked out to him by his nature; when fooled by his fellows he embrues his hands in fraternal blood! They tell us of some portions of the great family of the human race being natural enemies, incapable of brotherly alliance; by heaven! they foully lie; are your beavers naturally hostile and solitary? And what special gift enables man to reject the evil and to choose the good, to prefer pleasure to pain, if left to inherent bias? Is it, or is it not, that property of reason which they stifle, or affect to despise? If reason be useless lumber, why do we inherit it? But it is not so; whatever is, is useful and right; nothing is given in vain And they add, 'We have received the gift of

a truth which reason could never attain; but observe, although we assert that it was received for the common weal, we intend, and take special care, it shall depend on our leisure and caprice, for universal diffusion: wait ye our good pleasure.' If then they have received a gift so extraordinary, so plainly out of course, why do they disagree so furiously among each other as to its essential properties and effects, its mode of operation? Why do they fight and tear like dogs about this truth, like beasts who possess not reason?

"But enough of this; let us reason together as men, as rational free agents, with calmness and moderation; let us take warning from the awful example presented to us by the disciples of Ignorance and Fanaticism, and beware of abusing the good gifts entrusted to our care. Listen to what I am going to say: I and your countryman are come to dwell among you; the earth is large enough if fairly appropriated and apportioned: but there is no room for us in my country; the arm of honest industry is paralysed there. You have more than sufficient, more than you can use and enjoy; and yet, even now, you faint from want of food. Why is this? Because you and your forefathers have followed a precarious mode of subsistence; you are continually subject to the alter