That which derived it's origin from
the dust shall indeed to the dust return; but the fine ethereal substance
does not cease to think, and shall be again employed by the immortal gods
to put the forms of things in motion. What was thine errour? - It was
nothing: the bow was too mighty for the string, and the foundation too
feeble for the fabric that was built upon it. All shall be right when thou
art arrived at the foot of the mountains, where the sound of the wintry
winds will not be permitted to reach thee, and where the light of the lamp
is not extinguished by the sickly blasts of autumn. - -
_"What infernal stuff is this?'_ exclaimed the clergyman, who at this
period of the Indian's discourse had returned on a full gallop with a
large folio Bible before him: _'what infernal heretical trash is this,
with which my ears are insulted? - Miscreant, avaunt!'_ said he, addressing
the Indian, _'or I will teach you how to make speeches within the bounds
of my jurisdiction,'_
"The Indian then modestly stepped down from the tombstone, and the
legitimate clergyman took his place. After making a slight apology for his
stay, he read his text by the light from a horn lantern, which the clerk
held up to his nose, and then proceeded to mumble over a written discourse
upon the subject he had chosen, and which held him about half an
hour. - 'In my country,' observed the Indian, 'they would make a more
_animated_ speech at the interment of a _favourite racoon_!'
"'This divinity-monger is the angel of our church,' answered the man in the
white linen coat; 'and it is dangerous to criticise upon his productions,
especially as he considers every one to be in the wrong, who does not
precisely fall in with his own opinions in matters appertaining to
religion.'
"'Weak men are always arrogant, positive, and self-conceited,' replied the
Indian.
"'Let us hasten home,' whispered the man in the white linen, coat, 'for the
night begins to wear apace."
* * * * *
Before the following lines are read, represent to yourself, that some of
the tribes of Indians bury their dead in a sitting posture. -
LINES
OCCASIONED BY A VISIT TO
AN OLD INDIAN BURYING-GROUND.
In spite of all the learn'd have said,
I still my old opinion keep,
The _posture_ that _we_ give the dead,
Points out the soul's eternal sleep.
Not so the ancients of these lands: -
The Indian, when from life releas'd,
Again is seated with his friends,
And shares again the joyous feast.
His imag'd birds, and painted bowl,
And ven'son for a journey drest,
Bespeak the _nature_ of the soul -
_Activity_, that wants no rest.
