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That, to my eyes of ignorance, they seem

Like honest rustics on the homeward way;
There is a village; doubtless thence they came;
There was a christening; and they have a name.

They are to us, like many a living form,
The image of a moment; and they pass
Like the last cloud that vanished on the storm,
Like the last shape upon the faithless glass;
By lake, or stream, by valley, field, or hill,
They must have lived; perchance are living still.

Hymn of the Cherokee Indian.-I. MCLELLAN, JUN.

They waste us; ay, like April snow

In the warm noon, we shrink away;
And fast they follow, as we go,
Towards the setting day,

Till they shall fill the land, and we

Are driven into the western sca.

Bryant.

LIKE the shadows in the stream,

Like the evanescent gleam

Of the twilight's failing blaze,
Like the fleeting years and days,

Like all things that soon decay,
Pass the Indian tribes away.

Indian son, and Indian sire!
Lo! the embers of your fire,
On the wigwam hearth, burn low,
Never to revive its glow;
And the Indian's heart is ailing,
And the Indian's blood is failing.

Now the hunter's bow's unbent,
And his arrows all are spent!
Like a very little child

Is the red man of the wild;

To his day there'll dawn no morrow;
Therefore is he full of sorrow.

From his hills the stag is fled,
And the fallow-deer are dead,
And the wild beasts of the chase
Are a lost and perished race,

And the birds have left the mountain,
And the fishes, the clear fountain.

Indian woman, to thy breast
Closer let thy babe be pressed,
For thy garb is thin and old,
And the winter wind is cold;
On thy homeless head it dashes;
Round thee the grim lightning flashes.

We, the rightful lords of yore,
Are the rightful lords no more;
Like the silver mist we fail,
Like the red leaves in the gale,—
Fail like shadows, when the dawning
Waves the bright flag of the morning.

By the river's lonely marge,
Rotting is the Indian's barge;
And his hut is ruined now,
On the rocky mountain brow;
The fathers' bones are all neglected,
And the children's hearts dejected.

Therefore, Indian people, flee
To the farthest western sea;
Let us yield our pleasant land
To the stranger's stronger hand;

Red men and their realms must sever;
They forsake them, and forever!

Lake Superior.-S. G. GOODRICH.

"FATHER OF LAKES!" thy waters bend Beyond the eagle's utmost view,

When, throned in heaven, he sees thee send Back to the sky its world of blue.

Boundless and deep, the forests weave

Their twilight shade thy borders o'er,
And threatening cliffs, like giants, heave
Their rugged forms along thy shore.

Pale Silence, mid thy hollow caves,
With listening ear, in sadness broods;
Or startled Echo, o'er thy waves,

Sends the hoarse wolf-notes of thy woods

Nor can the light canoes, that glide
Across thy breast like things of air,
Chase from thy lone and level tide

The spell of stillness reigning there.

Yet round this waste of wood and wave,
Unheard, unseen, a spirit lives,
That, breathing o'er each rock and cave,
To all a wild, strange aspec♦ gives.

The thunder-riven oak, that flings
Its grisly arms athwart the sky,
A sudden, startling image brings

To the lone traveller's kindled eye.

The gnarled and braided boughs, that show
Their dim forms in the forest shade,
Like wrestling serpents seem, and throw
Fantastic horrors through the glade.

The very echoes round this shore

Have caught a strange and gibbering tone; For they have told the war-whoop o'er, Till the wild chorus is their own.

Wave of the wilderness, adieu!

Adieu, ye rocks, ye wilds and woods! Roll on, thou element of blue,

And fill these awful solitudes!

Thou hast no tale to tel' of man—

God is thy theme. Ye sounding cavesWhisper of Him, whose mighty plan Deems as a bubble all your waves!

Oriental Mysticism.-LEONARD Woods.

The following passage is translated from a German version of the Dachau har Odsat, a Persian poem of the thirteenth century, and is here offered as a specimen of the mystic writings of the East, a single sprig brought to town from a distant and unfrequented garden. These writings are characterized by wildness of fancy, a philosophy extremely abstruse, and especially by a deep spiritual life. They prove, as will be seen in the lines which follow, that the human mind has strong religious instincts; which, however, unless guided by a higher wisdom, are liable to great perversion.-Extravagant as the conception of the passage here selected must appear to us, it has still its foundation in truth. That the ideas of infinite and divine things, which slumber in the mind, are often violently awakened by external objects, is what every one has experienced. Says a modern poet, in prospect of “clear, placid Leman,"

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And what is the story of Rudbari and Hassan, but an exhibition, a la mode orimtale, of the same truth?

In ancient days, as the old stories run, Strange hap befell a father and his son. Rudbari was an old sea-faring man,

And loved the rough paths of the ocean;

And Hassan was his child,-a boy as bright,

As the keen moon, gleaming in the vault of night.

Rose-red his cheek, Narcissus-like his eye,

And his form might well with the slender cypress vie.
Godly Rudbari was, and just and true,

And Hassan pure as a drop of early dew.

Now, because Rudbari loved this only child,

He was feign to take him o'er the waters wild.

The ship is on the strand-friends, brothers, parents, there Take the last leave with mingled tears and prayer.

The sailor calls, the fair breeze chides delay,

The sails are spread, and all are under way.

But when the ship, like a strong-shot arrow, flew,

And the well known shore was fading from the view,
Hassan spake, as he gazed upon the land,

Such mystic words as none could understand:

"On this troubled wave in vain we seek for rest.

Who builds his house on the sea, or his palace on its breast?
Let me but reach yon fixed and steadfast shore,
And the bounding wave shall never tempt me more."
Then Rudbari spake :-" And does my brave boy fear
The Ocean's face to see, and his thundering voice to hear?

He will love, when home returned at last,

To tell, in his native cot, of dangers past.'

Then Hassan said: "Think not thy brave boy fears
When he sees the Ocean's face, or his voice of thunder hears.
But on these waters I may not abide ;

Hold me not back; I will not be denied."

Rudbari now wept o'er his wildered child:

"What mean these looks, and words so strangely wild?

Dearer, my boy, to me than all the gain

That I've earned from the bounteous bosom of the main!
Nor heaven, nor earth, could yield one joy to me,
Could I not, Hassan, share that joy with thee."
But Hassan soon, in his wandering words, betrayed
The cause of the mystic air that round him played:
"Soon as I saw these deep, wide waters roll,

A light from the INFINITE broke in upon my soul!"
"Thy words, my child, but ill become thine age,

And would better suit the mouth of some star-gazing sage." "Thy words, my father, cannot turn away

Mine eye, now fixed on that supernal day."

"Dost thou not, Hassan, lay these dreams aside,

I'll plunge thee headlong in this whelming tide." "Do this, Rudbari, only not in ire,

'Tis all I ask, and all I can desire. For on the bosom of this rolling flood, Slumbers an awful mystery of Good;

And he may solve it, who will self expunge,

And in the depths of boundless being plunge."

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He spake, and plunged, and as quickly sunk beneath
As the flying snow-flake melts on a summer heath.
A moment Rudbari stood, as fixedly bound

As the pearl is by the shell that clasps it round.
Then he followed his Hassan with a frantic leap,

And they slumber both on the bottom of the deep!

To a Sister about to embark on a Missionary Enterprise.→ B. B. THATCHER.

O SISTER! Sister! hath the memory

Of other years no power upon thy soul,

That thus, with tearless eye, thou leavest me-
And an unfaltering voice-to come no more?

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