dom, as a recompence for his release; and further, that she and her husband would retire to a private station in some sequestered corner of India, and there spend the remainder of their days, leaving their possessions in the power of Hastings. On these terms, the British robber consented to his release. Joyful flew the unfortunate Almasa, to lay her treasures at the feet of Hastings, and resign her possessions, to save the life of him whom she loved equal with herself. In the interim, horrid to relate! the monster, the worse than common murderer, Warren Haslings, sent orders to the prison to have Almas Ali Carn hung; for the detested wretch knew full well if he released him, that another, and a very powerful witness, would be added to the many who now testify concerning his enormities, while in the station of governor in India. After Hastings had received the treasures of Almasa, and the resignation of her kingdom, he gave her an order for the release of Almas. She hastched to the prison, and, while enjoying in anticipation, the pleasure she should experience from a re-union with her beloved prince, the first object which struck her eyes on her entrance into the doleful prison, was the lifeless body of her husband, suspended from the wall, by a rope. Words are inadequate to paint the anguish of her soul, on beholding the dreadful spectacle. She retired, and after reason had subdued the first tumults of her grief, she wrote the British assassin a letter, expressive of her feelings, and her sense of his villany and unparalleled erimes: this letter fell into the hands of the late Dr. Ladd, who published it in blank verse, as it is at present publishedit has also been published as it was originally wrote, and the copy, it is said, differs not materially from the original.

Warren Hastings, on his recal from India, was impeached for his murdering the innocent inhabitants, destroying their princes, plundering their towns and villages, and committing other crimes of a die equally black as any which ever disgraced the darkest ages of the world. His trial is not yet finished; [1789] it is generally suspected, however, by those who

are acquainted with the venality and corruption of the British Parliament, that this worst of criminals, instead of being doomed to make his exit on the gallows, or at the stake, will be rewarded with a peerage.]

As conjectured, Hastings, after undergoing a mock trial, which continued for several years, was finally acquitted. Fox, Sheridan and Burke, delivered on the side of the prosecution, perhaps the most eloquent speeches ever heard in the British Parliament; but without avail. The administration was in favor of the criminal, which was sufficient to insure his safety.

My subjects slaughter'd, my whole kingdom spoil'd,
My treasures rifled, and my husband slain—
O, say, vile monster! art thou satisfy'd?
Hast thou, rapacious brute! sufficient wealth?
And, cruel murd'rer, art thou fill'd with blood?
Perhaps, insatiate, thou art thirsting still
For human gore! O, may'st thou ever thirst!
And may the righteous God deny thee water
To cool thy boiling blood! inhuman wretch!
Have not the bravest of my subjects bled?
Are not they butcher'd all-ALL massacred?
And did not India foam again with gore?
Where is the murderer who has slain his fellow ?
Where is the robber? where the parricide?
Approach for ye are innocent and clean!
Your souls are whiter than the ocean foam.
Compar'd with him, the murderer of millions!"
Yes, bloody brute! the murderer of MILLIONS!
Where are the swarms that cover'd all my land?
That cultur'd land, of which each foot was garden.
Doom'd to support the millions of my host?

Are they not butcher'd all-all massacred?

And butcher'd, bloody monster! by thy hands?

But why? because, vile brute! thou must have wealth!
Because THOU must have wealth, my people bled!
The land was floated with a tide of gore!
My fields, my towns, my cities swam in blood!
And through all India one tremendous groan-
The groan of millions! echoed to the heavens.
Curst be your nation! and for ever curst
The luckless hour when India first beheld you!
We have a custom here, as old as time,
Of honouring justice-Why? because 'tis justice :
And virtue is belov'd, because 'tis virtue.
As Indians need no hell, they know of none;
You Christians say you've one 'tis well you have-
Your crimes call loudly for it-and I'll swear,
If HASTINGS is not damn'd, your boasted God
Is worse than he; and heaven itself becomes
A black accomplice in the monster's guilt.

Hastings! my husband was your prisoner;
The wealth of kingdoms flew to his relief;
You took the ransom, and you broke your faith.
ALMAS was slain-'twas perjury to your soul!
But perjury is a little crime to you;

In souls so black it seems almost a virtue.
Know, monster! know, that the prodigious wealth
You sold your soul for, was by justice gain'd.
'Twas not acquir'd by rapine, force and murder-
The treasures of my fathers; theirs by conquest
And legal domination; from old time
Transmitted by the father to the son,
In just succession. Now you call it yours;
And dearly have you purchased it; for know.
When the just gods shall hear the cry of blood,
And of your hands demand the souls you've murdered,
That gold will never pay their price-will never pay

Your awful ransom! You must go where Almas
Sits on a lofty throne, and every hour

He stabs an Englishman, and sweetly feasts
Upon his bloody heart and trembling liver!
For, monstrous wretch! to thy confusion know,
Almas can relish now no other food

Than hearts of Englishmen! Yet thou art safe;
Yes, monster, thou art safe from this repast:
A heart polluted with ten thousand crimes,
Is not a feast for Almas. Tremble, yet,
He'll tear that heart out from its bloody case,
And toss it to his dogs! full many a vulture
Be poison'd by thy corse! wolves shall run mad
By feeding on thy murd'rous carcass-MORE!
When some vile wretch, some monster of mankind,
Some brute like thee-perhaps thy relative-

Laden with horrid crimes without a name,

Shall stalk through earth, and we want curses for him-
We'll torture thought to curse the wretch; and then
To damn him most supreme, we'll call him—HASTINGS!

NATIVE ELOQUENCE.

We do not offer the following documents to the public, as confidential or important" State Papers," but as literary curiosities. The reader may rely on their genuineness: The Speech of Sagoua Ha, which signifies The Keeper Awake, known by the white people by the name of Red Jacket, in answer to a speech of Mr. Richardson, who applied to buy the Indian rights to the reservations lying in the territory commonly called the Holland purchase. Delivered at a councit at Buffaloe Creek, in May, 1811.

Brother-We opened our ears to the talk you lately delivered to us, at our council fire. In doing important business,

it is best not to tell long stories, but to come to it in a few words. We therefore shall not repeat your talk, which is fresh in our minds. We have well considered it, and the advantages and disadvantages of your offers. We request your attention to our answer, which is not from the speaker alone, but from all the Sachems and Chiefs now around our council fire.

Brother We know that great men, as well as great nations, having different interests, have different minds, and do not see the same subject in the same light-but we hope our answer will be agreeable to you and to your employers.

Brother-Your application for the purchase of our lands, is to our minds very extraordinary-it has been made in a crooked manner-you have not walked in the straight path pointed out by the great council of your nation. You have no writings from our great father, the President. In making up our minds, we have looked back, and remembered how the Yorkers purchased our lands in former times. They bought them piece after piece, for a little money paid to a few men in our nation, and not to all our brethren, until our planting and hunting grounds have become very small, and if we sell them, we know not where to spread our blankets.

Brother You tell us your employers have purchased of the Council of Yorkers, a right to buy our lands. We do not understand how this can be. The lands do not belong to the Yorkers: they are ours, and were given to us by the Great Spirit.

Brother We think it strange that you should jump over the lands of our brethren in the East, to come to our council fire so far off, to get our lands. When we sold our lands in the East to the white people, we determined never to sell those we kept, which are as small as we can live comfortably on.

Brethren-You want us to travel with you, and look out for other lands. If we should sell our lands, and move off into