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The island of Terra del Fuego, having received its name of “Land of Fire,” from the number of volcanoes which diversify its desolate region, may well be represented under the metaphor of Torch-bearer to the Oceans, as they rush to mingle their waves.

The custom which prevails among the aboriginal Americans, of adopting a captive foe in the place of some near relative, who has fallen in battle, is well known. The affection thus transferred, is said to be sincere and ardent, and extinguished only with life. They have been styled the most revengeful, the most implacable of savage nations. Yet this practice, peculiar to themselves, seems rather to prove, that the habits arising from natural affection are stronger than the suggestions of revenge. Among civilized nations, in every age, the adoption of children has prevailed; but it has been circumscribed either by the limits of affinity, the predilection of friendship, or the excitement of compassion. When was it known to be extended to mortal foes, even by Christians, who are bound to requite enmity with love? Where, among the followers of Him, with whose death-pang was mingled a prayer for his murderers, has the shelter of paternal kindness been the portion of the enemy, whose sword had drank the blood of the lost son? or the offices of fraternal affection been extended to him who had pierced the breast of the lamented brother? Among the ancient Egyptians, Assyrians, and Grecians, adoption by those who were childless, was a frequent usage. The Romans enacted laws for its regulation. The Lacedemonians required that it should be performed in the presence of their kings. The Turk, according to the appointed ceremonies of Mahomet, invests the adopted with his inner garment, or with his girdle; and the Gentoo offers sacrifices to his gods. But the native American being in this respect “without law, is a law unto himself;” he adopts the foe who would have shed his blood, without the pomp of prescribed ceremony, and with no sacrifice but that which affection exacts of vengeance. In other instances, we behold this race capable of degrees of virtue, as unexpected as they are unparalleled. The natives of Hascala, a populous province, bordering upon Mexico, shocked at the cruelties which marked the intrusion of the Spaniards, attacked them with impetuous bravery and with vast superiority of numbers. But the advantages arising from these circumstances, were entirely lost through their solicitude to save the wounded and dying. To relieve the sufferers, and remove them from further barbarity, divided the attention of the warrior even in the heat of battle; and a scene unknown among civilized nations was displayed, a sentiment of tenderness extinguishing victory. Afterwards, the Hascalans, meditating another attack, generously apprized the invaders of their hostile intentions, and knowing that a scarcity of provisions existed among them, sent to their camp a large supply of poultry and maize; “Eat plentifully,” said they, “for we scorn to attack enemies enfeebled by hunger, and should blush to offer to our gods, famished and emaciated victims.” Yet these sons of nature had never heard the command, “If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink.”

Although the Mexicans were further advanced in refinement than any of the aborigines of America, they were the slaves of a superstition which was marked by the most barbarous sacrifices. At their first arrival near the Lake of Tetzuco, from their ancient possessions, on the borders of the Californian Gulf, they erected on the spot which they had selected for their principal city, a temple to their tutelar god, which they consecrated by the effusion of human blood. This event, according to their traditions, and the simple annals preserved by their hieroglyphical paintings, occurred in the year 1335 of the Christian era. Following them through the variations of their government, from its original form of aristocracy, to that of elective monarchy, and ultimate despotism, combined with the feudal spirit, we see the same stern religion preserving its sway unaltered, and mingling with their civil institutions. Their political festivals were attended with the sacrifice of human beings, and in their expiatory offerings to their deities, they believed that “without shedding of blood was no remission.” During the reigns of Tizoc, and his brother Ahuitzotl, a temple was erected, which surpassed in magnificence all the structures of Mexico, and at its completion in 1486, it was consecrated with the blood of more than 60,000 prisoners. Montezuma II. who was the ninth Mexican sovereign, entered into a war with some neighbouring tribes, in order to obtain victims for sacrifice at his coronation, and the cruel pageantry of that scene was in accordance with the inclinations of his subjects. The funeral rites of the Mexicans were sanguinary, particularly at the death of any distinguished personage. At the decease of an emperour, they slew a number of his principal attendants, and buried them in the same tomb; supposing, like the ancient Scythians, that he would have need of their assistance and counsel. The rites of their religion were reduced to a regular system; but their divinities were clothed in vengeance, and their priests perpetuated a worship of gloom and terrour.

The mild Peruvians who, at the time of the invasion of the Spaniards, had made many attainments in the arts of civilization, had a form of religion whose features were remarkably free from harshness and barbarity. “The most singular and striking circumstance in their government,” says Dr. Robertson, “was the influence of religion upon its genius and laws. The whole system of their civil policy was founded upon religion. The Inca appeared not only as a legislator, but a messenger from Heaven. The superstitions on which he engrafted his pretensions to high authority, were of a very different character from those established among the Mexicans. By directing their veneration to that glorious luminary which by its universal and vivifying energy is the best emblem of divine beneficence, the rites and observances which they deemed acceptable to Him were innocent and humane. They offered to the Sun a part of the productions which his genial warmth had called forth from the bosom of the earth, and fostered to maturity. They sacrificed, as an oblation of gratitude, some of the animals who were indebted to his influence for nourishment. They presented to him choice specimens of those works of ingenuity, which his light had guided the hand of man in forming: but the Incas never stained his altars with human blood, nor conceived that their beneficent father, the Sun, would be delighted with such victims. Accordingly, the Peruvians, unacquainted with those barbarous rites, which extinguish sensibility, and suppress the feelings of nature at human sufferings, were formed by the spirit of the superstition they had adopted, to a national character more gentle than that of any people in America.” The tribe of Chacmeheca's who succeeded the ancient Toltecan monarchy, which was situated in the neighbourhood of Mexico, also paid homage to the Sun, as their tutelar divinity, and offered to him the herbs and flowers which they found springing in the field. The Parent of warmth and vegetation appeared to their untaught minds, as the Fountain of existence and of hope; and how much more elevated was the choice of their Paganism, than that of the polished Egyptians, who, in their absurd worship of vegetables, noxious reptiles, and the lifeless formations of Nature, clearly evinced, that the “world by wisdom knew not God.”

Such a marked diversity of customs, and religious rites, is found among the aborigines of America, that they must be considered as the mingled offspring of different nations, who in various ages have become inhabitants of this western hemisphere. The Peruvians, in their ancient offerings, like a sect of the Persians, recognized the Sun as the Parent of their joys, and the supreme object of their adoration. Some of the eastern tribes of South America preserve a tradition that their ancestors migrated from the African continent. The Toltecas, originally bordering upon Mexico, and celebrated for their superiour knowledge, which comprised some branches of agriculture, together with the art of cutting gems, and casting gold and silver into various forms, possessed some ancient paintings, which represented the passage of their ancestors through Asia, and the north-western countries of America. The Mexicans who, in the barbarity of their religious sacrifices, point to the blood-stained altars of Carthage, in the style of their architecture, the construction of pyramidal edifices, the use of hieroglyphicks, and the mode of computing time, lead us back to the institutions of ancient Egypt. This similarity has so forcibly impressed the minds of some learned writers, particularly Siguenza, and Bishop Huet, that they have designated the Mexicans as the descendants of Naphtahim, the son of Mizraim, and nephew of Ham. The Esquimaux recognizes his sires in the north of Europe, and by a variety of customs proves his affinity. The Mohawks, from the peculiarity of their language, composed entirely without labials, so that they never close their lips in speaking, and from the superiority which they assumed over the surrounding tribes, seem also to claim a distinct origin. The Abbe Clavigero supposes that the ancestors of those nations who peopled the country of Anahuac, passed from the northeastern parts of Asia to the western extremity of America. Amid the variety of customs which distinguish the different tribes, some have been observed so similar to those of ancient Israel, that they have given rise to conjecture, that some of the ten tribes, who, after the Assyrian invasion in 721, (B. C.) were long in a wandering state, might have been allured to pass, with other emigrants, the narrow strait which separates the Old from the New World. This opinion received strength from the circumstance, that among some of the natives, the name of their Supreme Being was “Tehewah,” evidently resembling the Hebrew Jehovah, that the word “Hallelujah,” occurred in their songs of praise, that they bear upon their shoulders to battle a consecrated Ark, which is never suffered to touch the earth, and the mysteries of whose interior they guard with the most jealous care. Traditions of the murder in Eden, of original longevity, the general deluge, the saving of the righteous pair, the bird sent from the ark, who returned with a verdant branch, the confusion of tongues, the anger of the Great Spirit at the building of a high place, which the pride of man contemplated should reach the heavens, and many more, evidently derived from the Scriptures, are preserved among them. Some of the early settlers, who had an opportunity of observing their character before its debasement, traced in their religious offerings and festivals a similarity to the Jewish ritual. Intelligent men, who have resided among them as traders, or surveyed them as travellers and missionaries, have occasionally gathered traits of resemblance to the peculiar people; and some learned men have been inclined to credit this hypothesis, by a comparison of their language with the ancient Hebrew. “Dr. Buchanan,” says a judicious writer, “supposes the ten tribes of Israel, to be now in the country of their first captivity; but this by no means precludes the possibility of individuals having migrated northward and eastward to the American continent. He speaks of the white and the black Jews of Asia: we know that there are also white Jews in Europe, and black Jews in Africa; and why, since they are the scattered, the distinguished people, may there not be red Jews in America?”

This refers to the “Star in the West,” a work which attempts to prove the descent of some of our aborigines, from the dispersed Israelites; written by the late Hon. Judge Boudinot, the venerable Sire and Patron of the American Bible Society. He asserts, that if the descendants of exiled Israel could now be identified, on any spot of the globe, we should not find, after the revolution of twenty-five centuries, the traces of similarity more striking; and that, admitting the affinity of our roving tribes with the peculiar people, it would be impossible not to be surprised at perceiving so many rites and traditions unimpaired, when to the lapse of ages is added the absence of a written language, of a temple, of a regular government, even of a permanent abode, and the vice, degradation, and misery, which, since their subjugation by the Europeans, has involved them in a darkness like midnight. He is strengthened in his theory by a passage from the Apocrypha, where Esdras “in his vision beheld the ten tribes who were carried captive by Shalmanezer, in the time of Hosea their king, taking counsel to leave the multitude, and go into a country where mankind never dwelt, that they might keep the statutes which they never kept in their own land, and remain there until the latter times.”—2 Esdras, xiii. 40.

The Rev. Dr. Jarvis, in his interesting “Discourse on the Religion of the Indian Tribes,” supposes them to be the descendants of Noah, who migrated to this continent, after the great dispersion of mankind. This theory, which accounts for many of the traditions preserved among them, is also adopted by Mr. Faber, so well known by his learned dissertations on the Prophecies.

Missionaries and traders have occasionally observed among the different tribes, the custom of pressing the hand upon the lips, and laying the mouth in the dust, in cases of deep bereavement. Some have supposed it the dictate of Nature in the humiliation of suffering. Others have traced in it a resemblance to the expression of grief in ancient Israel; and have been reminded of the passages in Job, Solomon, and Jeremiah: “Mark me, and be astonished, and lay your hand on your mouth:” “Behold, I am vile! what shall I answer thee? I will lay my hand upon my mouth:” “If thou hast done foolishly, in lifting up thyself, or if thou hast thought evil, lay thy hand upon thy mouth.” “He putteth his mouth in the dust, if so be, there may be hope.”

The imagination of the inhabitants of Greenland traces in the Aurora Borealis, the dance of sportive souls. They suppose the place of torment for the wicked to be in the subterranean regions, where darkness and terrour reign, without hope. They believe in two Great Spirits, the good and the evil, and in various subordinate grades of ethereal beings, resembling the major and minor gods of the ancient heathens. When a friend is in the conflict of death, they array him in his best apparel, and when the last change has marked his countenance, bewail his loss, and prepare for his interment. They deposit in his grave instruments of labour, and darts for defence, and returning to the house of mourning, the men sit silent with uncovered faces, while the females prostrate themselves on the earth. The nearest relative pronounces an eulogy on the virtues of the departed, and at every pause their grief becomes more audible. The ceremonies of mourning are continued at intervals for months, and sometimes for a year; though its bitterness diminishes after the period which they allot for the perilous journey to the eternal regions. They believe that the spirits of the departed are occasionally permitted to revisit the earth, and reveal themselves to the former objects of their attachment. Some of the first missionaries who visited this people, supposed that the idea of a Divine Being was in some degree familiar to their minds, since they so readily received the knowledge of his attributes, and the most stupid among them were struck with horror at the thought of the annihilation of the soul.

Seward, Earl of Northumberland, feeling in his last sickness, that dissolution approached, quitted his bed, and encircled himself with his armour. To the inquiries of his attendants, he answered, “It becometh not a brave man to die like a beast.” Standing, and with an undaunted countenance, he met death, closing his life of intrepidity, by an act equally singular and heroic.

The natives of Patagonia bury their dead on the eastern shores, and with their faces turned toward the rising Sun, where they say was the country of their ancestors. Bougainville, and others, have suggested their resemblance to the roving Tartars. Like them they traverse immense plains, constantly on horseback, clothing themselves with the skins of wild beasts, which they destroy in the chase, and occasionally pillaging travellers, who cross their path, or interrupt their career.

“Among some of our aborigines, the graves of departed friends are guarded with the most delicate and jealous affection. They suffer no weeds to take root upon them, and frequently visit them with lamentations. This tender and sacred sentiment is expressed in an effusion of simple eloquence, which bears the antiquity of nearly 200 years. In one of the earliest records of the settlement of Massachusetts, it is mentioned that the Indian monuments of the dead had been defaced by the whites at Passonagessit, and the grave of the Sachem's Mother plundered of some skins that had decorated it. Gathering together his people, in the first moments of his grief and indignation, he thus addressed them: “When last the glorious light of this sky was underneath the globe, when the birds grew silent, I began to settle, as my custom is, to take my repose. But ere my eyes were fast closed, I saw a vision at which my soul was troubled. As I trembled at the fearful sight, a spirit uttered its voice:— ‘Behold! my Son, whom I have cherished. See the hands that covered, and fed thee oft. Wilt thou forget to take revenge of those wild people, who have disturbed my ashes, disdaining our sacred customs? See now! the Sachem's grave lies, like one of the common people's, defiled by an ignoble race. Thy Mother doth complain. She implores thine aid against this thievish people, newly intruding themselves into our land. If this be suffered, can I rest quietly in my everlasting habitations?’ Then the Spirit vanished, and I, trembling, and scarce able to speak, began to get some strength, and recollect my thoughts that had fled, determining to ask your counsel and assistance.”

Rollin, in his interesting history of the expedition of Darius against the Scythians, relates the embarrassment which he suffered in being unable to bring that roving people to a regular engagement. “Prince of the Scythians,” said he, “why do you continually fly before me?” “If I fly before thee, Prince of Persia,” he replied, “it is not because I fear thee. We, Scythians, have neither cities or lands to defend: yet come! attack the tombs of our fathers, and thou shalt find what manner of men we are.” Soon after, they exemplified another singular trait of character, by sending a herald to Darius, with a present of a bird, a mouse, a frog, and five arrows. The monarch exclaimed with joy, “Now they acknowledge subjection, and by these emblems yield to me the dominion of their lands and waters, of their warriors, and even of the atmosphere they breathe.” But Gobryas, one of his officers, who was better versed in the hieroglyphics of Scythia, correctly interpreted this typical message:—“Unless the Persians can ascend into the air like birds, conceal themselves in earth like mice, or beneath the waters like frogs, it is not possible for them to escape the Scythian arrows.”

It is generally admitted that the northern parts of America were settled by the Scandinavians, several centuries before the expedition of Columbus. Ericke Raude, so named on account of his red hair, is considered as the original discoverer of those inhospitable regions. Having past a winter on the coast of Greenland, he returned to Iceland, and persuaded many of his countrymen to accompany him, and undertake the establishment of a colony. He assured them that the country which he had found, abounded in fish, and exhibited such a verdant appearance, that he had assigned it the name of Groenland, or Greenland. Twenty-five ships, filled with Icelanders and Norwegians, attended him in consequence of these representations; but it is said that only fourteen sustained the inclemencies of the voyage. The establishment of this colony bears date, according to Torfæus, in his “Groenlandia Antiqua,” in the year 982; yet it would seem to have been of earlier origin, by the bull of Pope Gregory 4th, issued in 835, and committing the conversion of the Greenlanders and Icelanders, to the first northern apostle, Ansgarius. This colony assumed the appearance of prosperity, and in 1261, voluntarily submitted to the sceptre of Norway, and was governed by a Norwegian viceroy, according to the laws of Iceland. It was considerably harassed by the natives, who were denominated “Skrællings,” and whose origin is traced to the North East regions of Tartary. Driven from their country by imperious and potent enemies, they crossed the straits of Bherring, and gradually passing to the east and north, began their hostilities against the Icelandic colony in the eleventh century. They gained great ascendancy over it about the year 1350, when it had been enfeebled by the ravages of pestilence; and in the course of two or three centuries nearly exterminated it. The small remnant of European settlers were driven from the western toward the eastern shores, and compelled to incorporate themselves with their conquerors. Some of them, however, retreated to the inlets between the mountains, and like the Welch still preserve the character of an unconquered people.

Dr. Darwin's plan of navigating southward those tremendous masses of ice, which for ages have been accumulating amid the polar regions, in order to allay the fervour of the tropics, is one of the many visionary theories of that splendid poet and eccentric philosopher.

The Ice Palace, erected in the year 1740, by the Empress Anne, of Russia, was 52 feet in length, and when lighted exhibited the most splendid appearance. Yet to a reflecting mind, its brilliance must have been dimmed by the recollection, that many lives were sacrificed to its construction, by the severity of cold. The description of this singularly beautiful structure, by the poet Cowper, is in accordance with that purity and elegant simplicity, which characrerize his numbers.

Olaf, or Olaus, a Norwegian king, having renounced heathenism, sent a priest to Greenland, early in the tenth century for the conversion of the inhabitants. His exertions were successful, and the whole colony embraced Christianity. In the year 1122, they chose a Norwegian bishop, and a regular succession in the Episcopacy was preserved, until the year 1406, when the last of seventeen bishops was sent over. Darkness for a time overspread the religious prospects of this people; like that which enveloped ancient Israel, when the harp of prophecy was broken in the hand of Malachi, and for more than three centuries there was no divine communication. But in the year 1721, a pious clergyman of Norway, by the name of Hans Egede, whose heart had long been moved by the wretchedness of the Greenlanders, resolved, notwithstanding the obstructions that were cast in the way of his enterprize, to bear to that inhospitable region the glad tidings of salvation. He was accompanied by about forty adventurers, who aided him in imparting a knowledge of those arts which advance the comfort of the present life; while, with the most condescending attention, the most faithful diligence, and under the pressure of almost unexampled hardships, he taught the precepts of a religion, whose benevolence he exemplified. After sustaining the arduous duties of a missionary almost forty years, he closed his honourable and pious life, at the age of seventy-three, and to him, and to his son, Paul Egede, we are indebted for an ample and authentic account of modern Greenland. The Moravians also, whose zeal in diffusing the blessings of religion, cannot be too highly appreciated, extended the exertions of their Christian love to this desolate region. Perhaps it is without parallel in the annals of benevolence, that a Society so restricted in pecuniary resources, so afflicted by persecution as to have been reduced to about six hundred individuals, should display the missionary spirit in such unbroken strength and splendour. After the oppressions of the Church of Rome, when they had taken refuge on the estates of Count Zinzendorf in Lusatia, they sent, in the space of nine years, missionaries to Greenland, to South-America, to Algiers, to Guinea, to Lapland, to the West-Indian and Nicobar islands, to Ceylon, to the extremities of the Cape of Good Hope, and to the wilds of Tartary. About the year 1733, when the mission of Mr. Egede was so coldly patronized by government, and so overclouded by misfortune, that it seemed ready to expire, the Moravians having resolved to carry the gospel to Greenland, two of their venerable messengers arrived on foot at Copenhagen, entreating permission to accomplish their design. “How,” said one of the ministers of the crown of Denmark, “do you hope to maintain yourselves in that desolate region?” “By the labour of our hands,” they answered, “and by the blessing of God. We will build a house, and cultivate a piece of land, that we may not be burdensome to any.” The nobleman, perceiving that they were not fully acquainted with the sterility of the country, replied, “There is no timber there to build with.” “Then,” said these devoted servants of the cross, “we will dig a cavern in the earth, and lodge there.” These faithful missionaries with others who from time to time were sent to their assistance, suffered indescribably from the rigours of the climate, and the ravages of famine and pestilence. Yet nothing extinguished the flame of their benevolence, and they expressed themselves willing to prolong their labours until death, to continue “to believe while there was nothing to be seen, to hope when nothing was to be expected.” Soon after their arrival, the Small-Pox was communicated by a Greenlander who had returned from Europe, and it assumed so malignant a form, that few who were seized by it, survived beyond the third day. Destitute of the knowledge of medicine, and of the comforts which alleviate disease, the wretched natives stabbed themselves, or plunged into the sea, to put a period to their sufferings. The Moravians, in company with Mr. Egede, hastened from place to place, to impart assistance or consolation. Empty houses, and unburied corpses, bleaching on the snow, every where shocked their eyes. On one island, only one little girl, and her three brothers, survived. Their father had buried all the inhabitants, and finding himself and his youngest child smitten with the malady, lay down in a grave, with the sick infant in his arms, commanding his daughter to cover them with skins and stones, that their bodies might not be devoured by ravens and foxes. In 1753, the severity of that terrific climate was heightened to an unusual degree, and snow fell in every month of the year. In March, the cold was so intense, that even glass and stones burst. Famine was the consequence, and continued till 1757, when it surpassed all that had ever been imagined by the Europeans. “We found,” said the Missionaries, “near a house that we visited, fifteen persons nearly starved to death. They lay near each other, striving to preserve warmth, for they had no fire, nor the least morsel to eat. For very faintness they did not care to lift up themselves, or to speak to us. Four of their children were already dead with hunger. At length a man brought a fish from the sea, and a girl snatched it, raw as it was, and tore it in pieces with her teeth, gorging it with violence. She looked pale as death, and was ghastly to behold. We distributed among them our small pittance, and advised them to endeavour to remove to our part of the land.” Children perished in great numbers by famine, and old people were buried alive in order to save the food that they would have consumed. The Missionaries participated in these sufferings, till their strength was exhausted, and their constitutions debilitated, yet occasional success in their spiritual work, caused them to count their afflictions light. Settlements were formed at New Herrnhut, Lichtenfels, and Lichtenau; and materials for two churches were sent them from Europe, which were erected and partially filled with worshippers. In the year 1814, more than 1100 inhabitants belonged to these three settlements, and the whole population of Greenland was estimated at 7000. Since the commencement of the mission by Mr. Egede, which has comprised a century, the number baptized is computed at about 5000.

The extension of this Note by an interesting extract from the 18th volume of the Quarterly Review, will be forgiven by minds who have felt solicitude in the extension of truth, or sympathy for the privations of its messengers. It is a forcible delineation of the feelings of a missionary and his family, during the gloom and loneliness of a Greenland winter, and is drawn from the manuscripts of Saabye, a grandson of that venerated apostle Hans Egede. “They have one bright epoch; for it is a happy time, when the ice is loosed from the rocky coast, and they can expect the arrival of the vessel which alone reaches their solitude. Often deceived by the floating Ice-berg, forming itself in mockery into the shape of their friendly visitant, at length they see the white sails, the towering masts, the blessed guest riding at anchor in the bay. By this vessel their wants are supplied. The active and pious housewife busies herself in arranging the stores of the ensuing twelvemonth. There are letters too, from friends, and from relations, and books, and newspapers; and banished as they are, they live again in Denmark, in ‘their father-land.’ The hour of enjoyment soon glides away; the ship sails; the Missionary and the partner of his toils remain behind, solitary and forsaken. To this season of sadness succeeds the gloom of the polar night. A few days before the 26th of November, Saabye was accustomed to climb the high rocks, from whence at noon he could just see the sun shining with a soft and pallid light; and then the sun sank, and he bade farewell to the eye of creation with heaviness and grief. Dubious twilight lingered till the beginning of December; then darkness ruled. The stream near which Saabye's house was situated, roared beneath the ice; the sea dashed and howled over the rocks, bursting in foam against his windows, and the dogs filled the air with long continued moans. About the 12th of January, the rays of the rising sun glittered on the rocks, and suddenly faded, like the high-raised hopes of man.”

From researches made by British Antiquarians, it appears that traditions exist of the discovery of America, by Madoc ap Owen Guyneth, a Welch Prince, in the year 1170. It is asserted that a colony was planted by him, west of the Mississippi, and that their descendants have at various times been recognized by travellers. The fact has been recorded also, by the ancient poets of Wales, and the celebrated Mr. Southey has founded upon it one of the most interesting modern epic poems in the English language. In Howel's Letters, volume 2, page 71, it is recorded, that Madoc ap Owen, Prince of Wales, made two voyages to America, at the time specified: and the Welsh Cantbria, translated into English, by H. Lloyd, contains, in its 225th page, the reasons which induced that Prince to undertake such an expedition. Some modern writers have employed their pens in this investigation, among whom are Dr. Williams, Rector of Sydenham, and the Rev. George Burder, late of Coventry, England.

Taliesin, who wrote in the sixth century, was one of the most celebrated of the ancient Welch bards. His poems have been highly commended by the amateurs of the old Cambrian minstrelsy. The affinity of the language of Wales to the Hebrew, has rendered its study interesting to many classical scholars; and recently, among the prizes offered in Jesus College, Oxford, England, for the best six Englynion, on a passage of Taliesin, beginning “Cymru fu, Cymru fydd.” The early taste of the Welch, for poetry and music, is well known. The knowledge of the harp was considered essential to the character of a prince and a hero; and the bards received in the courts of their kings such dignity and honour, as Homer asserts were enjoyed by Demodocus and Phemius, in the first ages of Greece.

Columbus expired in obscurity, at Valladolid, on the 25th of May, 1506, in his 59th year, exhausted by hardships and infirmities. The discoverer of America, like the conqueror of Mexico, found the close of his days rendered wretched by the persecution of enemies, and the chilling indifference of those from whom he had expected patronage and consolation.

It is recorded by Robertson, that an opinion prevailed almost universally among the Mexicans, that some dreadful calamity would befall their country, by means of formidable invaders who should come from regions towards the rising sun. Their superstitious credulity saw in the Spaniards the instruments of that fatal revolution which they dreaded, and this in some measure accounts for the success of Cortes, with his ill-appointed force, over the monarch of a great and populous empire.

When the spoilers, in descending from the mountains of Chalco, caught their first view of the vast plain of Mexico, interspersed with fertile and cultivated fields, enriched with a lake resembling the sea in extent, whose banks were encompassed with large towns, and whose bosom was beautified with an island, where rose the capital city, adorned with its temples and turrets, they were impressed at once with a conviction of the great wealth of the country, and with an irresistible desire to possess it. After the humiliating death of Montezuma, and the more barbarous subjugation of Guatimozin, the imperial city yielded to its conquerors, August 21, 1521, after sustaining a siege of 75 days. This event, the most memorable of any in the conquest of America, preceded the death of Cortes 25 years. The neglect of his country embittered the declining life of the victor; and it was decreed, that the punishment of his injustice and cruelty should be inflicted, not by the vengeance of those whom he had injured, but by the ingratitude of those he had served.

The annals of the crimes of man are darkened with no blacker instance of perfidy, than that of Pizarro to the unfortunate monarch of Peru. Confiding in the protestations of the Spaniard, he advanced to the distance of a league from his city, to pay him a visit of respect. Pizarro instructed a priest to proclaim some of the articles of the Popish faith, strangely intermixed with the claims of the crown of Spain upon the New World, to which Ahatualpa not immediately assenting, the desperado seized him as his prisoner, and gave the signal of assault upon his followers.

The carnage continued till the close of day, and the Peruvians, unprepared for combat, and ignorant of the mode of European warfare, left 4000 dead upon the field, without scarcely making an impression upon the phalanx of their enemies. The imprisoned Inca made liberal offers for his ransom, and his subjects, like those of Richard Coeur de Lion, would have stripped the churches of their consecrated gold, to purchase liberty for their beloved sovereign. The apartment in which he was confined was 22 feet in length and 16 in breadth, and Pizarro demanded that it should be filled with vessels of gold, as high as he could reach. The line of demarcation was drawn upon the wall—the Peruvians hastened to heap the gold to the standard which avarice had prescribed, but with abominable treachery the Inca was detained in captivity. He was brought to a mock trial, and condemned to be burnt alive. The miserable monarch was offered, at the place of doom, that alternative which is allowed the victims of the “Auto da fe,” by the mercy of the Inquisition, to confess the Romish faith, and be strangled at the stake, or continue in heresy, and endure the anguish of the flame. Ahatualpa bowed to the baptismal font, and fell an immediate victim to the fury of those who, professing the “name of Christ, in works denied him.” This execrable deed was perpetrated in the year 1533; and, on the 26th of June 1541, Pizarro was destroyed by conspiracy in the city of Lima. The record of his fame is stained with atrocious barbarity; and he may be characterized, as the inhabitants of Melita unjustly designated the shipwrecked apostle, as “a murderer, whom, though he had escaped the sea, yet vengeance suffered not to live.”

The discovery of Brazil is usually placed in the year 1500. The honour of that event is ascribed to Perez Alvarez Cabral, a Portuguese naval commander. He originally gave it the name of Santa Cruz, but this was changed to Brazil, by King Emmanuel. The derivation of the latter name is from Brasas, a Portuguese word, signifying “glowing fire, or a red coal,” which colour resembles that produced by the celebrated tree “ibiripitanga,” commonly called Brazil wood, with which that country abounds.

Acadia, the original name given by the French to Nova-Scotia, was their first possession in the New World. It was granted, in the year 1603, to De Mons, with somewhat indefinite boundaries, by Henry IV. of France. Settlements were made in Canada, five years after, by the same nation. Quebec, the capital, was reduced by General Wolfe in 1759, the year after his conquest of Cape Breton, or “Isle Royale.” The whole of Canada was ceded to Great-Britain, by the treaty at Paris in 1763.

The small source whence the St. Lawrence takes its rise, reminds us of the two parent springs of the Nile, whose size Rollin compares to that of a coach-wheel. They are, he remarks, thirty paces distant from each other, and are sometimes called eyes, “the same word, in Arabic, signifying both eye and fountain.”

The emigration from Germany to the United States, has been greater in recent times, than has generally been imagined. Only in the short period included between July 12th, 1817, and the beginning of the year 1818, nineteen vessels arrived, bringing passengers to the number of 6000. They were of every age, from infancy to eighty years, and many of them so poor, that they were compelled to bind themselves out for a term of service, to defray the expenses of their scantily provided passage. M. von Fürstenwärther, who was officially appointed to examine the situation of his countrymen who had emigrated to the United States, reports, that “the ships made use of in this service, are commonly of the worst quality, old and unseaworthy, and the commanders ignorant, inexperienced, and brutal. I was on board of a vessel at the Helder, July 7th, 1817, which had formerly been a Russian ship of the line, which a Dutchman had bought for the sake of carrying German emigrants to Philadelphia. There were already four or five hundred souls on board, and the vessel was not to sail without her complement of passengers. I have found the misery of most of the German emigrants greater, and the condition of all more forlorn and helpless than I could have imagined. A ship arrived from Amsterdam at Baltimore, in the summer of 1817, the greater part of whose passengers had not paid their freight. Two families were bought by free negroes in Maryland, but the Germans resident in Baltimore were so disgusted, that they immediately rebought them, and formed an association to prevent the recurrence of any such degrading abuse.”

“Laws have been passed in Philadelphia,” says the North-American Review, “for the protection of German redemptioners; and by these it was established, that the extreme term of service, in ordinary cases, for adults, is four years, and two years for the shortest term. Children under four years old, are not bound, but follow their parents; males over four, are bound to serve till they are 21, and females till they are eighteen years old.”—Stern realities, to those who parted from their native country with the expectation of finding in America something like Eden restored.

“In Germany the feudal institutions still subsist with great vigour, Its great princes possess all the feudal privileges.”—

The intrepid Condé approached the battle of Jarnac, which was sustained by the Huguenots with such constancy in the year 1569, with an arm debilitated and in a state of suffering. Entering the field, his leg also was broken, by the accidental rearing of the horse of his brother in law. Rising superior to pain, he exclaimed to his followers, “Nobility of France! know, that the prince of Condé, with an arm in a scarf, and a leg broken, fears not to give battle, since you attend him.” After displaying prodigies of valour, he was found, exhausted with fatigue, surrounded, and taken captive. He was placed at the foot of a tree, by those who had made him their prisoner, and, while in this defenceless condition, was barbarously shot by Montesquieu, a captain in the guards of the Duke of Anjou, whose master was supposed to have instigated the infamous deed, from motives of personal animosity. The persecuted Huguenots ever cherished with tender gratitude the memory of their great benefactor. We may trace a strong expression of this affectionate sentiment, in the fact recorded by Heriot, in his “travels through the Canadas,” that the name of Condé was given, by the early French settlers, to Lake Superior, as if they were anxious that his fame should find a monument in the most magnificent body of fresh and pellucid waters which the globe affords.

It is well known that Admiral Coligny had contemplated a removal with the Huguenots, where, enjoying liberty of conscience, they might be enabled without dread of death to say, “after the way which ye call heresy, so worship we the God of our fathers.” Permission had actually been accorded him, to conduct his adherents to the Floridas, but the design was deferred until the commencement of hostilities detained him to exhibit, on the continent of Europe, the invincible firmness and constancy of his character. He was the first victim of the diabolical massacre at Paris, on St. Bartholomew's day, 1572. Having been previously wounded by a hired assassin, and disenabled from defending himself, he was murdered in his chamber by a party led on by his implacable enemy, the Duke of Guise.

The following speech of Logan, a Mingo Chief, was given by the late General John S. Eustace to an intimate friend. He confirmed its authenticity by the information that it was presented him personally by Lord Dunmore, to whom it was uttered by the unfortunate chief, while he held the station of Governor of Virginia.

“My cabin, since first I had one of my own, has ever been open to any white man who wanted shelter. My spoils of hunting, since first I began to range these woods, have I ever freely imparted to appease his hunger, to clothe his nakedness. But what have I seen? What! but that at my return at night, laden with spoil, my numerous family lie bleeding on the ground, by the hand of those who had found my little hut a certain refuge from the inclement storm, who had eaten my food, who had covered themselves with my skins! What have I seen? What! but that those dear little mouths, for which I had toiled the live-long day, when I returned at eve to fill them, had not one word to thank me for all that toil!

What could I resolve upon? My blood boiled within me! My heart leaped to my mouth! Nevertheless, I bid my tomahawk be quiet, and lie at rest for that war, because I thought the great men of your country sent them not to do it. Not long afterward, some of your men invited our tribe to cross the river, and bring their venison with them. They, unsuspicious of evil design, came as they had been invited. The white men then made them drunk, murdered them, and turned their knives even against the women.

Was not my own sister among them? Was she not scalped by the hands of that very man, whom she had taught to escape his enemies, when they were scenting out his track! What could I resolve upon? My blood now boiled thrice hotter than before! Thrice again my heart leaped to my mouth. I bade no longer my tomahawk be quiet, and lie at rest for that war. I no longer thought that the great men of your country sent them not to do it. I sprang from my cabin to avenge their blood, and fully have I done it in this war, by shedding yours from your coldest to your hottest sun. Thus revenged, I am now for peace. To peace have I advised most of my countrymen. Nay! what is more, I have offered, I still offer myself as a victim, being ready to die if their good require it. Think not that I fear death! I have no relations left to mourn for me. Logan's blood runs in no veins but these. I would nor turn on my heel to escape death. And why should I? for I have neither wife, nor child, nor sister, to howl for me when I am gone.”

The following version of an “Indian Lament,” which recently appeared in the public prints, unaccompanied with the author's name, expresses with simplicity and pathos, some of the feelings which characterize the speech of Logan.

The celebrated Scottish novels, which have excited such uncommon degrees, both of admiration and curiosity, seem now to be almost generally referred to the pen of Sir Walter Scott. The strong resemblance between the poetical works acknowledged to be his, and the productions “by the Author of Waverly,” points the inquirer, by a kind of internal evidence, to the wand of “that great Enchanter of the North.” Yet to the public it seems an inexplicable modesty, which should incite an author to withhold so long his name from works so vivid in description as to annihilate the barriers of distance, and dispel the mists of time; so patriotic, that strangers from all nations are led in pilgrimage to Scotland, to do homage to her lakes, and mountains, and ruined castles, and caverns, as if some tutelary divinity resided there; so brilliant in fancy, that the lover of romance prefers them to all that had before captivated him, yet so faithful to history, that Truth offers them as a guide to the student; so replete with the knowledge of human nature, that Shakespeare seems to have revived, and reinstituted his claim to the admiration of remote posterity.

The potatoe is styled by Mr. Donaldson, “the bread-root of Great-Britain and Ireland.” Writers affirm that it was introduced into the latter island by Sir Walter Raleigh, about the year 1623; and that a vessel laden with it, and wrecked upon the coast of Lancashire, was the means of dispensing its benefits to England, as the ship of Carthage, driven upon the strand of Italy, gave a fleet to Rome.

But Sir Joseph Banks, in his communication to the Horticultural Society of London, states that the potatoe was brought to England from Virginia, by some colonists sent out by Sir Walter Raleigh, who returned as early as 1586. From thence it was soon after conveyed to Ireland, where it was cultivated, and extensively used among the common people, before the inhabitants of England were fully sensible of its value.

America has the honour both of presenting Europe with the Solanum Tuberosum, which has so sensibly diminished the ravages of famine within her bounds, and likewise of furnishing the native soil for a grain remarkable for its productiveness, and second only to wheat, in the degree of nutriment it affords to the human frame. According to Marabelli's analysis of the Zea Mays, it “contains a saccharine matter of different degrees of purity, from which alcohol, the oxalic and acetous acids, may be obtained; a vegetable amylaceous substance, a glutinous substance; muriat and nitrat of magnesia; carbonats of potash, lime, and magnesia; and iron.”

The Diospyros Virginiana rises to the height of from fourteen to sixteen feet, with a wood extremely hard and brittle. It produces a plumb of about the size of a date, and its bark is useful in intermittent fevers. The bark of its root has been considered also a tonic, favourable to the treatment of dropsies.

The bark of the Laurus Sassafras is a remedy in intermittents. “Its oil, also,” says the late Professor Barton, “has been found efficacious when externally applied in cases of wens.” Another plant of the same genus, the Laurus Benzoin, commonly called Spice-Wood, enters extensively into the materia medica of the natives. A decoction of its twigs is an agreeable aperient, and in our revolutionary war, when the patriotism of the people incited them to adopt the productions of their own country in the place of those foreign luxuries to which they had been accustomed, the dried and pulverized berries of the Laurus Benzoin were adopted as a substitute for allspice, as the saccharine juice of the cornstalk had been found to supply the place of molasses, and an infusion of the leaves of the sage, to superced the beas of China.

The flowers of the Cornus Florida, or as it is usually called, Dogwood, appear in the spring, and exhibit a beautiful appearance. Their large and white involucre form a fine contrast to the forest green, and their hue becomes gradually more delicate, as if emulous of the purity of snow. Our natives use an infusion of these flowers in intermittents; and some of the tribes gave a name to the season of Spring, in allusion to the bloom of this plant. Its blossoms are succeeded by oblong drupes of a rich crimson tint, which are sometimes used as a tonic in the form of a spirituous impregnation, and likewise furnish a favourite food for various species of birds. Its wood, under the name of New-England box, is held in high estimation for its durability, and enters into the construction of many articles both for utility and ornament. But what constitutes its principal value is the discovery that its inner or cortical bark, promises to be equally valuable with the Peruvian. Indeed, it may be considered superiour, as being less nauseous to the taste and the stomach, always to be obtained in abundance, and not liable to the danger of adulteration. The merits of this substance as a medicine, have been clearly and forcibly displayed by Dr. Walker of Virginia, in an inaugural dissertation on the comparative virtues of the Cornus florida, Cornus sericea, and Cinchona officinalis of Linnæus. After detailing a number of chemical experiments, he remarks: “A summary recapitulation of these experiments shews, that the Cornus florida, sericea, and Peruvian bark, possess the same ingredients; that is, gum, mucilage, and extracts; which last contain the tannin and gallic acid, though in different proportions. The Florida has most of the gum mucilage and extracts; the Sericea the next, which appears to be an intermediate between the Florida and Cinchona; while the latter possesses most of the resin. Their virtues appear similar, and equal, in their residence. The extract and resin possess all their active powers. The extract appears to possess all their tonic powers. The resin, when perfectly separated from the extract, appears to be purely stimulant; and probably the tonic powers of the extract are increased when combined with a portion of the resin, as in the spirituous tincture.” Dr. Gregg, of Bristol in Pennsylvania, in a testimony to the merits of the Cornus florida, asserts, that during a period of 23 years, experience of its virtues had convinced him, “that it was not inferior to the Peruvian bark in curing intermittents; nor inferior as a corroborant in all cases of debility.”

The bark of the Liriodendron Tulipifera is considered by some as scarcely inferior to the Cinchona in the cure of fevers. It has also been classed among remedies in cases of gout and rheumatism. This fine tree produces flowers resembling the tulip, beautifully variegated with light green, yellow and orange, and standing solitary at the extremities of the branches. The leaves of this tree have a peculiarly obtuse form, and its young bark is aromatic.

The Cornus sericea, or American Red-root cornel, is sometimes called from the colour of the epidermial covering of its young shoots, the Red-Willow. It is found in a moist soil, usually by the banks of rivers, and seldom exceeds the height of ten or twelve feet. Its white flowers appear in clusters, and are succeeded by a succulent drupe of a blue colour. The North-Carolinian Indians scrape the inner bark as a substitute for tobacco, or sometimes use it as an adjunct to that plant. It is considered in medicine equal to the pale Peruvian bark. “When we consider,” says Dr. Walker, “the causes of the various forms of disease which are the endemics of our country, we cannot but receive additional inducements to regard the Corni as the most valuable vegetable which Nature, in the prolificness of her bounty, has scattered through the wide forests of North America. For so long as the mouldering ruins of our swamps, and the uncultivated conditions of our marshes, shall afford materials for the peccant operations of an autumnal sun, we shall view with peculiar delight the virtues of these two vegetables, which inherit the two essential characters of the most valuable division of the materia medica, I mean bitterness and astringency; to the happy union of which the Corni have a claim as respectable as that which has procured for the Peruvian bark a celebrity as extensive as the bounds of rational medicine. Indeed, so striking is the similitude, so exact the result from comparative trials, that in this attempt to recommend the Cornus florida and sericea, to the attention of practising physicians, I cannot even review the forms of disease, in the particular states of which the Corni are indicated, without encroaching upon the reputation of the cinchona; for in truth it may be said, that in whatever form of disease the cinchona has been decidedly serviceable, the Corni will be found equally so. And if we make allowances for the chances and inducements to adulteration in the former, for our relationship to the latter, for its wide extent through the very soil in which are engendered the seeds of those maladies which their virtues are fitted to remove, we must acknowledge their superiority. Experiments of a diversified nature warrant this conclusion. They are like the cinchona, bitter and astringent in the mouth, tonic and febrifuge in the stomach; and their chemical analysis affords results perfectly analogous.”

This magnificent tree throws out its large white fragrant blossoms in July. Its medicinal virtues were familiar to our natives, while they were accustomed proudly to point it out as the glory of the forest. “The bark of its root,” says the late Professor Barton, “is used in Florida, in combination with the Snake-Root, as a substitute for the Peruvian bark, in the treatment of intermittent fevers.”

The Liquidambar Styraciflua is found near the banks of rivulets, tall, and elegantly formed, with leaves of a beautiful lustre. From wounds made in the trunk of this tree, a fragrant gum exudes, which operates as a powerful tonic. The Southern natives were in the habit of drying its leaves to mingle with their tobacco for smoking.

“Under the head of general stimulants may be classed the resin of the Populus balsamifers, called Balsam, or Tacamahaca-tree. This is a native of North-America and Siberia. The resin is procured from the leafbuds. This balsam is so very penetrating, that it communicates its peculiar smell and taste to the flesh of the birds which feed upon its buds.”—Collection towards a Materia Medica of the United States. By Dr. Benjamin Smith Barton.

The botanical genus Xanthoxylum, received its name on account of the yellow colour of its wood. The species Clava Herculis, which was used by our Indians in the cure of the Tooth-Ache, is sometimes called the great prickly Yellow wood. The trunk often grows to the height of 30 or 40 feet, armed with very powerful prickles, which are thick at the base, and angular and sharp at the point. The leaves are pinnate, and a foot in length, the foot stalks armed with strait thorns of a third of an inch. This is frequently denominated the Tooth-Ache Tree, and its bark and seed vessels have the property of a powerful stimulant, when taken internally, and have been found useful in cases of Rheumatism. The medicinal virtues of another species of this plant, the “franaxifolium,’ were also known to the natives. Lawson remarks, that they extracted from its berries the salivating power of mercury, and made use of decoctions of the plant, as strong perspiratives.

The Indians of Demarara use the leaves of the Dracontium pertusum in the treatment of obstinate dropsies. “The body of the patient is covered with them, and a universal perspiration, or rather vesication induced, after which the subject often recovers.” The leaves of this plant are remarkable for numerous elliptical perforations.

The Rhododendron Chrysanthemum, or golden flowered Rhododendron, is a beautiful shrub, and of high reputation in the treatment of Chronic Rheumatism. An infusion of its leaves is both stimulant and narcotic. It has been celebrated in Russia for the cure of the same disease, and is procured in Siberia, Kamschatka, and Bherring's Island.

“The inflorescence of the Rhododendron maximum is almost umbellate; the blossoms delicately coloured, having the red and white tints of an apple blossom, while the green and yellow dots on their upper segment are strikingly conspicuous.” Of close affinity to the Rhododendron is the genus Kalmia, of which many species are poisonous. The Kalmia latifolia was formerly used by those miserable natives who had determined on suicide. But modern enterprize has successfully enlisted it in the service of medicine, and it is applied, in a pulverized form, internally, in fevers, or topically, for the relief of cutaneous affections.

The genus Lobelia is connected by several of its species with the materia medica. Our natives were well acquainted with this fact, particularly with the virtues of the blue Lobelia, and the Lobelia inflata, both of which are lactescent. A decoction of the root of the beautiful Lobelia Cardinalis, is extensively used by the Cherokees as an anthelmintic.

“In ancient Egypt, the insane were conducted to those temples, in which were collected whatever seemed calculated to please the eye, and rivet the attention. There, as they wandered from one magnificent object to another, the world and its vexations were forgotten, and amid the deep interest of the scene, the gloomy images which haunted them were banished from their minds. In Greece, on the other hand, the followers of Hippocrates relied exclusively on the specific powers of Hellebore and its adjuvants; medicines which, at this day, are rarely employed.”—

The Podophyllum peltatum, generally called the May-Apple, is a common plant throughout the United States. Its fruit is about the size of a common plumb, of green colour, and esculent. The leaves are poisonous, and the root, which is a very active medicine, resembles that of the black Hellehore.

The Asclepias decumbens, with flowers of a bright orange-colour, is a beautiful and frequent ornament of our fields. It has sometimes been called Pleurisy-Root, from its salutary influence in that disease; and also Butterfly-weed, from the attraction which it appears to possess for this species of insect. Its root is used in a pulverized form; and the high opinion entertained of it, by the native tribes, seems to be confirmed by the testimony of some of our scientific medical practitioners.

Among the extensive genus Convolvolus, the panduratus is distinguished for its medicinal powers. It produces large white flowers, whose bases are deeply tinged with a fine purple. Its root is used either in powder, or decoction; and from it the southern Indians gain their “Mechameck” or wild Rhubarb. From another species of Convolvolus an extract, resembling Scammomy, is obtained.

The Cassia Marilandica is referred to in this passage, which was numbered by our aborigines among their cathartics. Several of the other species of this plant hold a far more conspicuous place in the pharmacopeia of modern science than the marilandica. Such, for instance, are the Senna, an Asiatic and African plant; the Emarginata, which in Jamaica, its native soil, is used as a substitute for the Senna; the Occidentalis, which in the same island is considered a powerful ingredient in fomentations and baths for inflamed limbs; the Fistula, which forms the basis of a mild and salubrious electuary; the Italica, a native of North-Africa and the Levant; and the Alata, found both in the East and West Indies, the juice of whose leaves and buds is a remedy in cutaneous affections. To these, it may not perhaps be improper to add the Cassia Chamæcrista, which is cultivated in parts of Maryland and Virginia, to recover exhausted lands, or enrich those which are barren by nature.

The Polygala Senega, the celebrated Snake-Root of our natives, though now discredited as an antidote to the bite of the Rattle-Snake, is exhibited with success by some of our physicians, in the treatment of several diseases. Pursh mentions two varieties of this species, “one with white flowers in a dense spike, the other with rose coloured flowers in a loose clustre, and with narrower leaves.”

The Friosteum Perfoliatum is found in rich rocky grounds through a great part of the United States. It is however a rare plant, and distinguished by the deep purple tinge of its flowers and drupes. The cortex of the root is a carthartic, and partakes also of the properties of Ipecacuanha. So extensive was the acquaintance of our natives with medicines of the latter description, that the late Dr. Benjamin S. Barton mentions, that “the Six nations make use of at least twelve or fourteen different emetics, all of which, except the sulphate of iron, are vegetables.”

The Panax Quinquefolium is found in the mountainous woods of North-America, and Chinese Tartary. It is an umbelliferous plant, and its simple white flower is succeeded by a heart-shaped scarlet drupe. It is gently stimulant, and our Indians frequently prepare a tea from its leaves. Adair mentions that some of them are accustomed to use a strong decoction of this plant in their ceremonies upon religious occasions. The Asiatic Ginseng is considered superior to the American. The Chinese and Tartars entertain so high an opinion of its virtues, as to denominate it “the plant that giveth immortality.”

The Iris Versicolor and Iris Verna are used by the Southern Indians as cathartics. The Florentina also, a native of Italy, has an acrid root, which in its fresh state is a powerful cathartic, and when dry operates as an expectorant. The root of the Palustris, or Palustria Lutea, is both an errhine and sialagogue. When fresh it is a strong cathartic, but after being dried ranks among astringents. It has been recommended as a remedy in the tooth-ache; and beside its subserviency to the materia-medica, furnishes a deep black dye, and is used in Scotland for making ink. This extensively variegated genus is a well known to have received its name of Iris, from the ancient Greeks, on account of the concentric hues of the flower, exhibiting a faint resemblance to the rainbow.

The Dirca Palustris is found, as its name indicates, in a wet soil. It rises to the height of five or six feet, and flowers in April, before the expansion of its leaves. Its bark partakes of the properties of cantharides, and some of our aborigines use as a cathartic, a decoction of the cortex of its root. Its common appellation of Leather Wood is justified by the character of its bark, which is so tough and pliant, as to be wrought into ropes and baskets for domestic accommodation.

The Ilex Vomitoria, or Evergreen Cassine, is a native of West Florida. An infusion of it is the standard medicine of the Southern Indians. It has been supposed that this is the same plant which is found in Paraguay, the sale of whose leaves is to the Jesuits such an important branch of revenue. It is found also in Carolina, and among some of our tribes was held in such high esteem, that the decoction of its toasted leaves called “black drink,” their women were not permitted to taste. Lawson, in recording a tradition of this plant, says “The savages of Carolina of Carolina have it in veneration above all the plants they are acquainted withel, and tell you the discovery thereof was by an infirm Indian, who laboured under the burden of many rugged distempers, and could not be cured by all their Doctors; so, one day he fell asleep, and dreamt that if he took a decoction of the tree that grew at his head, he would certainly be cured: upon which he awoke, and saw the Yaupon, or Cassine-tree, which was not there when he fell a sleep. He followed the direction of his dream, and became perfectly well in a short time. Now I suppose, no man has so little sense as to believe this fable; yet it lets us see what they intend thereby, and that it has doubtless worked feats enough, to gain it such an esteem among these savages, who are too well versed in vegetables, to be brought to a continual use of any one of them, upon a mere conceit or fancy, without some apparent benefit they found thereby; especially when we are sensible, that they drink the juices of plants, to free nature of her burthens, and not out of foppery and fashion, as other nations are oftentimes found to do.”

In closing these botanical notes, which probably comprize but a small number of the medicinal plants known to our natives, the words of the late Professor Barton, whose attention to this subject marked at once his perseverance and benevolence, are particularly appropriate. “Judging from the discoveries which have been made in the term of three hundred years, it may be safely conjectured, that there are no countries of the globe from which there is reason to expect greater or more valuable accessions to the Materia-Medica, than those of America. In conducting our inquiries into the properties of the medicinal vegetables of our country, much useful information may, I am persuaded, be obtained through the medium of our intercourse with the Indians. Some of the rudest tribes of our continent are acquainted with the general medical properties of many of their vegetables. We shall find that the Materia Medica of these people contains but few substances as inert as many of those which have a place in our books on this science. What treasures of medicine may not be expected from a people, who, although destitute of the lights of science, have discovered the properties of some of the most inestimable medicines with which we are acquainted? Without mentioning the productions of South-America, let it be recollected, that it is to the rude tribes of the United States that we are indebted for our knowledge of Polygala Senega, Aristolochia Serpentaria, and Spigelia Marilandica.”

Shenandoah, a venerable chief of the Oneidas, who died at the advanced age of 113, thus expressed before his departure, the deep feeling of his loneliness. “I am an aged hemlock. The winds of a hundred years have swept over its branches. It is dead at the top. Those who began life with me, have run away from me. Why I am suffered thus to remain God only knows.” Not inferior in pathos, was the request of Scanando, an aged chieftain of the same tribe, who had embraced christianity. “Lay me in death by the side of my minister, and my friend, that I may go up with him at the great resurrection.”

This speech was addressed to Gen. Washington in 1790, by Cornplanter, a celebrated Seneca chief.

Our natives were habituated to address their prayers to the Great Spirit. This was noticed by many of the first colonists, and Roger Williams, one of the early settlers of New England, and governor of Rhode Island, remarks, “I have heard a poor Indian lamenting the loss of his child, call up at the break of day, his wife and family, to lamentation, and with abundance of tears cry out, ‘Oh God! Thou hast taken away my child. Thou art angry with me. Oh turn thine anger from me, and spare thou the rest of my children.’” “The Indian when he worships his Creator,” says the Rev. Mr. Heckewelder, “does not forget to pray that he may be endowed with courage to fight, and conquer his enemies, among whom he includes savage beasts. When he has performed some heroic act, he will not forget to acknowledge it as a mark of divine favour, by making a sacrifice or publickly announcing that his success was entirely owing to the courage given him by the All-Powerful Spirit. This habitual devotion to the Great First Cause, and a strong feeling of gratitude for the favours that he confers, is one of the prominent traits that characterize the mind of the untutor'd Indian. An old Indian told me, about fifty years ago, that when he was young he still followed the custom of his fathers and ancestors, of climbing upon a high mountain to thank the Great Spirit, for his benefits bestowed, and to entreat a continuance of his favour; and that they were sure that their prayers were heard, and acceptable to the Great Spirit, though he did not himself appear to them.” These declarations of their faith in the inefficacy of prayer, may be concluded by a specimen of their devotion, at once pathetic and sublime. “O Eternal! have mercy upon me, because I am passing away,—O Infinite! because I am but a speck,—O Most Mighty! because I am weak,—O Source of Life! because I draw nigh to the grave,—O Omniscient! because I am in darkness,—O All Bounteous! because I am poor,—O All Sufficient! because I am nothing.”

These Chieftains view'd the city of New York, from the balcony of Congress-Hall, where a dinner was given them in 1789, when they came to treat on national affairs.

A bold, nervous, and figurative style characterizes the speeches, and even the more common communications of our aborigines. More liberally than other savage nations, they seem to have been endowed with the gift of Nature's eloquence. Most of their effusions have literally been poured upon the regardless winds; though the existence of a few have been preserved, principally in miscellaneous collections. The Rev. Mr. Heckewelder, has recorded a speech, which was delivered in Detroit, Dec. 9, 1801, by a Chief of the Delaware tribe, and addressed to the commanding officer of that post, then in the hands of the British. At the beginning of the revolutionary war, the Lenni Lenape having in vain endeavoured to remain neutral, generally joined the Americans; but this Chief with his party had become allies of the English. It seems that they had repented when it was too late to retract, and were compelled to continue in hostility to the Americans. At their return from an expedition, the following report was made to the British commandant in the Council-house at Detroit, before a large concourse. “Several missionaries were present,” says Mr. Heckewelder, “among whom I was. The Chief was seated in front of his Indians, facing the Commandant. In his left hand he held a scalp, tied to a short stick. After a pause of some minutes he arose, and thus addressed the Governor.

“Father! (at the utterance of this word, the orator stopped, and turning round to the audience, with a face full of meaning, and a sarcastic look which I should in vain attempt to describe, went on conversing with them,) I have said Father, although, I do not know why I am to call him so, having never known any other Father than the French, and considering the English only as brothers.” It may perhaps be well to mention here, that the Delawares had been steadfast friends of the French, in the war of 1756, but after the peace in 1763, having vainly hoped that their Father, the King of France, would send an army, to retake Canada, they submitted with reluctance to the British government. “But as this name,” said the orator, “has been imposed upon us, I shall make use of it, and say (fixing his eyes upon the Commandant,) Father! sometime ago, you put a war-hatchet into my hand, saying, ‘Take this weapon, and try it on the heads of my enemies, the Long-knives, and bring me word if it is sharp and good.’ Father! at the time when you gave me this weapon I had neither cause nor inclination to go to war with a people who had done me no injury. Yet in obedience to you, who say, that you are my Father, and call me your child, I received the hatchet: well knowing that if I did not obey, you would withhold from necessaries of life, without which I could not subsist; and where else should I procure them, but at the house of a parent.

“Father! You perhaps think me a fool, for risking my life at your bidding; in a cause too, where I have no prospect of gain. It is your cause, and not mine. It is your concern to fight the Long-knives; you have raised a quarrel among yourselves, and you ought yourselves to fight it out. If the Indians be your children, you should not compel them to expose themselves to danger for your sakes. Father! Many lives have been already lost on your account. Nations-have suffered, and been weakened. Children have lost parents. Wives have lost husbands. Who can know how many more may perish, before your war will be at an end? Father! I have said that you may perhaps think me a fool, for thus thoughtlessly rushing on your enemy. Do not believe this, Father! Think not that I want sense to convince me that although you now pretend to keep up a perpetual enmity to the Long-Knives, you may before long conclude a peace with them.

“Father! You say you love your children, the Indians. This you have often told them: indeed it is your interest to say so, that you may have them at your service. But Father! Who of us can believe that it is possible for you to love a people of different colour from your own, better than those who have a white skin like yourselves? Father! Attend to what I am going to say. While you, Father, are setting me on your enemy, much in the same manner as a hunter sets his dog on the game, while I am in the act of rushing on that enemy of yours, with the bloody destructive weapon you gave me, I may perhaps happen to look back, to the place from whence you started me, and what shall I see? Perhaps I may see my Father shaking hands with the Long-Knives; yes, with those very people he at this moment calls his foes. Then I may see him laugh at my folly, for having obeyed his orders; and yet, I am now risking my life at his command. Father! Keep what I have said in remembrance.

“Now Father! Here is what has been done with the hatchet you gave me (presenting the scalp). I have done with this hatchet what you ordered me to do. I have found it sharp. Nevertheless, I did not do all that might have done. No! I did not. My heart failed within me. I felt compassion for your enemy. Innocence had no part in your quarrels. Therefore I distinguished, I spared. I took some live flesh, which while I was bringing to you, I espied one of your large canoes, and put it there for you. In a few days you will receive this flesh, and find that the skin is the same colour with your own.

“Father! I hope you will not destroy what I have spared. You, Father, have the means of preserving what with me would perish for want. The warrior is poor, his cabin is empty: but your house, Father, is ever full.”

“Here,” says Mr. Heckewelder, “we see boldness, frankness, dignity and humanity, happily blended, and eloquently displayed. The component parts of this discourse are put together, much according to the rules of oratory of the schools, and which were certainly unknown to the speaker. The peroration is short, truly pathetic, even sublime: and I wish I could convey to the mind of the reader a small part of the impression which this speech made on me, and on all who heard it delivered.”

The following effusion is of a wholly different character. It was uttered a few years since, by a Maha Chieftain, named Big-Elk, over the grave of the Chief of the Teton tribe, who died at Portage des Sioux, on his return from our seat of government. He was interred with all the honours of war, and this speech was taken literally by the Secretary of the American Commissioners.

“Do not grieve. Misfortunes will happen to the wisest and best of men. Death will come, and always comes out of season. It is the command of the Great Spirit: all nations and people must obey. What is past, and cannot be prevented, should not be grieved for. Be not discouraged or displeased then, that in visiting your Father you have lost your Chief. A misfortune of this kind may never again befall you: perhaps it would have overtaken you at your own village. Five times have I visited this land, yet never returned without sorrow and pain. Woes do not flourish particularly in our path. They grow every where. What a misfortune that I could not have died this day, instead of the Chief who lies before us. The trifling loss my nation would have sustained by my death, would have been doubly paid for by the honours of my burial. They would have wiped off every thing like regret. Instead of being covered with a cloud of sorrow, my warriors would have felt the sunshine of joy in their hearts. To me it would have been a most glorious occurrence. Hereafter, when I die at home, instead of this noble grave, and grand procession, the rolling music, and thundering cannon, with a banner waving over my head, I shall be wrapped in a robe, and raised on a slender scaffold to the whistling winds, soon to be blown to the earth, my flesh to be devoured by the wolves, and my bones scattered on the plain by wild beasts.”

On the subject of the eloquence of our aborigines, Sansom, in his travels in Canada, remarks, “when Father Charlevoix, a learned Jesuit, first assisted at an Indian council, he could not believe that the Jesuit, who acted as interpreter, was not imposing upon the audience the effusions of his own brilliant imagination. Yet Charlevoix had been accustomed to the Orations of Massillon, and Bourdaloue; when those eminent orators displayed all the powers of pulpit eloquence, at the funerals of princes, upon the fertile subject of the vanity of life; but he confesses that he had never heard any thing so interesting, as the extempore discourses of an Indian chief. Even those who have had the enviable privilege of listening in the British house of Commons, to

This incident is borrowed from Schoolcraft's Journal. The heroine was a native of the Sioux tribe, who inhabit the banks of the Mississippi and Missouri. They are warlike and powerful, and feared by the neighbouring nations. This tribe admits of several subdivisions, among which the clan of Minowa Kantong has obtained pre-eminence. One of its principal bands resides near the head of Lake Pepin, and to this belonged the father of Oolaita. The Minowa Kantongs are by far the most civilized of the Sioux tribe. They are skilfull in the construction of canoes, and in the use of fire-arms, with which they are well provided. They are the only ones among their nation, who erect log-huts, and attend to the cultivation of vegetables. The Sioux are considered as the most warlike and independent tribe of Indians within the territory of the United States. With them, every passion is held in subservience to the enthusiasm of the warrior, and to be “invincible in arms,” is the summit of ambition. Such is the excellence of their leaders, and the dauntless spirit of the people, that they have hitherto bid defiance to every hostile attack. From their pronunciation, habits and personal appearance, the opinion has been entertained that they derive their origin from the Tartars. The following description of Lake Pepin, where a part of this tribe have their territory, is from the pen of Schoolcraft. “This beautiful sheet of water is an expansion of the Mississippi river, six miles below the Sioux village of Talangamane, and one hundred below the Falls of St. Anthony. It is twenty-four miles in length, with a width of from two to four miles, and is indented with several bays, and prominent points, which serve to enhance the beauty of the prospect. On the east shore is a lofty range of lime-stone bluffs, which are much broken and crumbled, sometimes run into pyramidal peaks, and often present a character of the utmost sublimity. On the west is a high level prairie, covered with the most luxuriant growth of grass, yet nearly destitute of forest trees. This lake is beautifully circumscribed by a broad beach of clean washed gravel, which often extends from the foot of the surrounding highlands, three or four hundred yards into the lake, forming gravelly points, upon which there is a delightful walk, and scalloping out the margin of the lake, with the most pleasing irregularity. In walking along these, the eye is attracted by the various colours of mineral gems, which are promiscuously scattered among the water-worn debris of granitic, and other rocks; and the agate, carnelian, and chalcedony are met with at every step. The size of these gems is often as large as the egg of the partridge, and their transparency and beauty of color is only excelled by the choicest oriental specimens.”

“A whole town of christian Indians, consisting of 90 men, women and children, were butchered in cold blood at Muskingum, in 1783, notwithstanding they had been our tried friends, throughout the whole of the revolutionary war.”—

“In the autumn of 1813, a detachment of soldiers, under Gen. Coffee, laid waste the Tallushatches towns where the Creeks had assembled. Women and children were among the wounded and slain, and not one warrior escaped to bear tidings to the remainder of the tribe.”

In the summer of 1788, a party of Kentucky militia set out on an expedition against the Pickewatown. They were discovered by some young hunters, pursuing the chase, who returned and gave information to their aged chieftain, Malaanthee. He refused to believe that any injury was intended them by the whites, on account of a treaty which had been executed the preceding spring. He therefore unsuspiciously advanced to meet them, holding in one hand this treaty signed by the American Commissioners, and in the other the flag of the United States, which he had received at the same time. “I, and my people,” said he, “are friends of the thirteen fires. Faithfully have we observed the treaty made with their Chiefs; and on this flag, which they gave me as a mark of friendship, I place my own and my people's protection.” A fatal blow was their answer to the hoary Chief. The white flag, stained with blood, was torn from his lifeless hand, and displayed as a trophy on the Court-house at Lexington.

This unprincipled deed is strongly contrasted with an instance of magnanimity, and inviolable friendship, recorded in Mr. Jefferson's Notes on Virginia. Col. Byrd was once sent to transact some business with the Cherokee nation; and it happened that some of our disorderly people had just murdered one or two of theirs. It was proposed in the council of the Cherokees, that Col. Byrd should be put to death, in revenge for the loss of their countrymen. Among them, was a chief named Silouéé, who on some former occasion had contracted a friendly acquaintance with Col. Byrd. Every night he came to him in his tent, telling him not to be afraid, for they should not take away his life. After many days deliberation, they however determined, contrary to Silouéé's expectation, that Col. Byrd should be put to death, and some warriors despatched as executioners. Silouéé attended them, and when they entered the tent, threw himself between them and their victim, exclaiming “this man is my friend! Before you get at him, you must kill me.” On this, the warriors returned, and the Council respected the principle so much, as to recede from their decision.

“I was astonished,” says the Rev. Mr. Heckewelder, “to hear in April 1787, a great Delaware Chief, after recapitulating some of the wrongs sustained through the whites, conclude in these words. ‘I admit that there are good white men: but they bear no proportion to the bad. The bad must be strongest; for the bad rule. They do what they please. They enslave those who are not of their colour, though created by the same Great Spirit. They would make slaves of us, if they could, but as they have not fully done it, they kill us. There is no faith in their words. They are not like us Indians, enemies only in war: in peace friends. They will say to an Indian, My friend! My brother! They will take him by the hand, and at the same moment destroy him. And so you, (addressing himself to the Christian Indians,) so you will also be treated by them before long. Remember this day have I warned you to beware of such friends as these. I know the Long-Knives: they are not to be trusted.’ Eleven months after this speech was delivered by the prophetic Chief, 96 of the same Christian Indians, about 60 of them women and children, were murdered in the very place where these words had been spoken, by the men he had alluded to, and in the manner he had described.”

The destruction of the Chehaw villages, was in the spring of 1818, by Gen. Jackson, when for the space of three days the country was ravaged, the houses burned, the provisions destroyed, the men slaughtered, and the women made captives.