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the daughter or the sister, held by the strong arm of the foe, and compelled to behold, in the very face of day, the deed of dishonour, worse than death-there, the weeping infant, snatched from the bosom of its mother, and literally dashed against the stones. Oh! ye who can boast the possession of a land of freedom, whose soil no barbarian foe will ever dare to pollute. Oh ! ye inhabitants of a city which bears the name of brotherly love, the very contrast of your happiness ; the consideration of your security; the recollection of the struggle through which your fathers were prosperously brought, all-all should stimulate you to an exertion which should tell how deep your sympathy, how grateful your recollections, and with an impulse which is irresistible, you should give, and that liberally, to relieve the sufferings of your brethren, who are houseless, friendless, and in misery unparalleled.

When I see the efforts which are making by the individual friends of this cause in Europe :—when I see how nobly some of our cities, and many of our villages, have come forward: when I see what some noble spirited individuals among ourselves have done; when I observe by the public prints, how the people gather in crowds in the places of public entertainment, and, by a rather singular exhibition of pity, sympathize with the Greeks, while they gratify themselves, I trust that in so sacred a cause, there shall issue from the house of God, this day, a corresponding liberality. If otherwise, the character of our Christians, and the character of our city will be both disrcedited.

But I will not cast upon you, my friends, a reproach so foul as to suppose that you will be backward in answering this call for mercy. Long may you be exempt from horrors such as these already described ; long may comforts be thickly gathered round you, like the richest clusters of the vintage. Here we have no danger of slaughtered sires; no wives, no daughters dishonoured ; “no leading into captivity, and no complaining in our streets ;” and, while you raise your hearts to God, that he has cast your inheritance here on this favoured spot, forget not the perishing who ask for your sympathy. If ever the land of Greece should again come under the domination of its infidel invaders, then farewell to liberty and hope; blasted will be every prospect of private happiness, or of public prosperity. All the institutions which are now calculated to diffuse the benefits of education ; all the temples sacred to the living God, will be swept away as with the very besom of destruction-nay, life itself, more than ever would hang upon the will of a barbarous master. The extermination of the Christians will scarcely serye to satiate the vengeance of their infuriated foes ; and Greece, fair Greece, will be blotted from among the nations of the earth, by the life blood of her sons and daughters, To you Christians, fellow-men, who have hearts to feel and to bleed, they cry" have pity upon us." Oh, speed us, from the land of liberty and refuge, the expressions of a Christian sympathy. While, with a cold and calculating policy, the governments of Europe, see us within the very jaws of the lion, and leave us to his teeth, we pray you not to desert us also. We are brethren, seeking the same liberty which you enjoy, and which the blood of your fathers was poured out to purchase : we are Christians, having the union of a common faith.

THE INDIAN BOY.

BY S. J. SMITH.

From the blood-stain'd track of ruthless war,

An Indian Boy had fled; Remote from his home, in the wild woods far,

A moss bank pillow'd his head.

His glossy hair was damp with dew,

His air was mild and meek-
And it seem'd that a straggling tear or two

Had wander'd down his cheek.

For he saw in his dream, the bayonet's gleam,

He saw his kindred fall;
And he heard his mother's dying scream,

And the crackling flames take all.

In his fev'rish sleep he turn’d and rollid,

'Mid the fern and the wild flowers gay; And his little hand fell on a rattlesnake's fold,

As coil'd in the herbage it lay.

His head the stately reptile rais'd,

Unclos'd his fiery eye;
On the sleeping Boy for a moment gaz'd,

Then pass’d him harmless by.

'Twas well, young savage, well for thee,

It was only the serpent's lair;

Thy fate perchance would different be,
Had the white man slumbered there.

His short nap o'er, uprose the child,

His lonely way to tread;
Thro' the deepest gloom of the forest wild,

His pathless journey led.

Where high in air the cypress shakes

His mossy tresses wide, O'er the beaver's stream, and the dark blue lakes,

Where the wild duck squadrons ride.

At the close of the day, in a wildering glen,

A covert met his view;
And he crept well pleas'd in the sheltering den,

For chilly the night wind blew.

And soon his weary eyelids close,

Tho' something touch'd his ear; 'Twas only the famish'd she-wolf's nose,

As she smelt for her young ones near.

And forth she hied at the noon of night,

To seek her custom'd prey-
And the Indian boy, at the peep of light,

He too pursu'd his way.

'Twas well, young savage, well for thee,

It was only the wild beast's lair;
Thy fate perchance would different be,

Had the white man slumber'd there.

But where, alas! poor wanderer! canst thou stray,

Where white intruders shall molest no more? Like ocean's billows, their resistless way,

A whelming deluge, spreads from shore to shore.

Their onward march, insatiate as the grave,

Still shall they hold—to province, province join; Till, bounded by the broad Pacific's wave,

Their giant empire, seas alone confine.'

And lo! their missions distant climes explore,

To spread the joyful Gospel tidings farWhile, wrapt in tenfold darkness at their door,

The forest's children find no guiding star.

But, oh! my country—tho' neglect alone

Were crime sufficient-deeper guilt is thine: Thy sins of crimson, added to his own,

Have crush'd the savage with a weight malign.

We seize the comforts bounteous Heav'n has given,

With strange diseases vex him from his birth; We sooth his sorrows with no hopes of Heaven,

Yet drive him headlong from his home on earth.

As shrinks the stubble from the rushing blaze,

Or feathery snow from summer's tepid air; So at our withering touch his race decays,

By whiskey poison'd, all that war may spare.

But can the Power, whose awful mandate roll'd

This globe abroad, and gave all nations birth; Can he, the source of being, pleas'd behold?

A people perish from th' uncumber'd earth?

No—from their slumber let the good and wise

At length awaken, and their task begin; Reform-enlighten-soften-Christianize

The border savage, with the paler skin.

Then lead the wild man of the forest forth,

With kindness lure him, to his eye disclose

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