There have been, it is true, some brilliant exceptions to the application of our remarks, such as may be found in the pious and comparatively learned Samson Occom, the noted Indian preacher of the times of the Pilgrims; in the eloquent Ojibway chief of our own times, and a few others; as well as in the person we have already introduced into this work, the intelligent and beautiful Fluella. But _only_ as exceptions to the general rule, we fear, can we fairly regard them,--for, where there is one Occom, there are probably ten Tomahs. Education, or so much of it as he has the patience and ability to acquire, seems often to unsettle and confuse the mind of the red man; for, while his old notions and traditions are disturbed or swept away by it, he fails of grasping and digesting the new ones which science and civilization present to his mind; and he falters and gropes, like an owl in the too strong light of the unaccustomed sun. In his natural condition, he can _at least_ realize the happy picture which the poet has drawn of him: “Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind: His soul proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or milky way; Yet simple nature to his hope has given, Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler heaven, Some safer world in depth of wood embraced; Some happier island in the wat’ry waste, Where slaves once more their native land behold, No fiends torment, no Christian thirsts for gold. To be content’s his natural desire; He asks no angel’s wings, no seraph’s fire; But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company.” But now, in his new and anomalous position, even this happiness and this content is taken away, while he is unable to embrace an adequate substitute. His old faith is shaken, but no new one is established. Before, he could see God in clouds or hear him in the wind; but now he can scarcely see God in any thing. His physical system, in the mean while, deprived as it is of the forest atmosphere, in which it was alone fitted to exist and reach its greatest perfection, suffers even more than his mental one. And his whole man, both mental and physical, begins to degenerate, and soon dwindles into insignificance. Yes, it is only in his native forests that the Indian appears in his wild and peculiar dignity of character. There only can he become a being of romance, and there only a hero. And there, in conclusion, we would say, in view of the unsatisfactory results of the experiments made to elevate him by any of the methods yet adopted,--there we would let him remain. But we must now on with our tale, the main incidents of which we have only foreshadowed, not touched. CHAPTER XI. “Hearts will be prophets still.”