“The dawn of this Sabbath morning was peculiarly beautiful; ‘rosy fingers’ did seem ‘to unbar the gates of light.’ Violet and purple with a wide and widening circle of ‘orient pearl,’ all met my eye with their charming and chastening influences—and then there was such silence! Not a leaf rustled, and the waves broke in softer murmur on the shore. Yet, all this silence was broken in upon this morning—for, just between the time when the eastern sky was made mellow with the sun’s light, and the light began to tip the tops of tree and mountain, and all was so quiet, my ears were greeted by sweet sounds of music! They came from a lodge of Christian Indians, which was hard by in the woods. They had risen with the day ‘to worship God!’ They sang in three parts, base, tenor, and treble, and with a time so true, and with voices so sweet, as to add harmony even to nature itself. Notes of thrush and nightingale sound sweeter when poured forth amidst the grove; so sounded those of these forest warblers in the midst of the green foliage and in the stillness of the woods. I attended their worship, and was present with them again in the evening; and as I listened to their songs of praise, and their prayers, I felt humbled and ashamed of my country, in view of the wrongs it had inflicted, and still continues to inflict, upon these desolate and destitute children of the forest. There were flowers and gems there, which needed only to be cultivated and polished, to insure from the one the emission of as sweet odors as ever regaled the circles of the civilized; and from the other, a brilliance as dazzling as ever sparkled in the diadem of queenly beauty. And yet they were, and are, neglected, trodden down, and treated as outcasts!” But no missionary society has the means of accomplishing the work of carrying the gospel and education, to such a multitude of roving people, over such a wide extent of country. This is the duty of the government, and if wisely planned, would not be so difficult of execution. It would not cost so much as a war, and would save us from the retribution which must certainly come upon those who make cruelty and treachery the purchase money with which to gain territory, and enrich it with the blood of the innocent and helpless. Extinction may be the doom of the Indian, but it does not require a prophet’s authority to enable us to say, “Woe unto those by whom this offence cometh.” APPENDIX. THE LANGUAGE OF THE IROQUOIS. If the Indian should be entirely banished from our borders, the memory of him cannot die. For, as I have elsewhere quoted, “Their names are on our waters, We cannot wash them out.”