In short, I conceive that a great part of the miseries of mankind are brought upon them by the false estimates they have made of the value of things and by their _giving too much for their whistles_. Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people, when I consider that with all this wisdom of which I am boasting, there are certain things in the world so tempting, for example, the apples of King John, which happily are not to be bought; for if they were put to sale by auction I might very easily be led to ruin myself in the purchase, and find that I had once more given too much for the _whistle_. PHILIP FRENEAU. THE INDIAN BURYING-GROUND. In spite of all the learned have said, I still my old opinion keep: The posture that we give the dead Points out the soul's eternal sleep. Not so the ancients of these lands: The Indian, when from life released, Again is seated with his friends, And shares again the joyous feast. His imaged birds and painted bowl And venison, for a journey dressed, Bespeak the nature of the soul, Activity that knows no rest. His bow for action ready bent, And arrows with a head of stone, Can only mean that life is spent, And not the finer essence gone. Thou, stranger that shalt come this way. No fraud upon the dead commit-- Observe the swelling turf and say, They do not _lie_, but here they _sit_. Here still a lofty rock remains, On which the curious eye may trace (Now wasted half by wearing rains) The fancies of a ruder race. Here still an aged elm aspires, Beneath whose far-projecting shade (And which the shepherd still admires) The children of the forest played. There oft a restless Indian queen (Pale Sheba with her braided hair), And many a barbarous form is seen To chide the man that lingers there. By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews, In vestments for the chase arrayed, The hunter still the deer pursues, The hunter and the deer--a shade! And long shall timorous Fancy see The painted chief and pointed spear, And Reason's self shall bow the knee To shadows and delusions here. DANIEL WEBSTER. THE UNION. [From the _Reply to Hayne_, January 25, 1830.]