The Press. — London, England, 1856-08-16 00:00:00

786 that should not be left unimproved : the " Devotions " of an Andrewes, the " Holy Living and Dying " of a Taylor, the saintly " Poems " of a Herbet, the " Sacra Private " of a Wilson, the " Christian Year " of a Keble, or the like, as year di Icretion may dictate. You have the season for getting within your people more than at any other— their hearts warm, their disguise or reserve forgotten. You have the most propitious crisis in which to recom• mend yourself and your office personally to them, and gain for yourself an affectionate respect, which throughout your parochial career will be your joy and your strength. You have a call for your alms at a time when they are most wanted, and can be least abused ; always, however, taking care, whilst doing them, to guard against making the sick man mercenary in his devotions, and leading him to affect a value for your prayers which he only feels for your pence. You have the best of occasions for kindly and discreet interposition between the parish guardian and the poor man ; while, on the one hand, endeavouring to abate the severity of the law in any case where it presses inordi nately ; and, on the other hand, moderating the undue complaints and sullen speech of poverty—teaching the one party not to grind, and the other not to gr, ap, and thus mediating advantageously between both. And lastly, you have a devotional fervour shed over your own thoughts by these spectacles of mortality, which finds a vent for itself in your pastoral conversation and discourses from the pulpit, qualifying you for appealing to men to save their souls alive with a success which no mere cloistered and contemplative theologian can command, though he " out watch the Bear." Now, this is all very well. But does any gen tleman of education and average intellect require to be told this? A. little further on, where he discourses of the state of mind in which the young clergyman may expect to find the sick—a topic which should surely call forth whatever knowledge of human nature and the human heart Mr. Blunt possesses — we find nothing above mediocrity. On " Pastoral Conversation " We have the following hints : Now it will often happen, that where the occasion will scarcely bear religious, it will bear, what I may call, eccle siastical conversation ; which latter, again, will frequently pave the way to the other, and be the best possible intro duction to it. I think, therefore, that the pastor will not be sp.mding such moments ill, if he profit by them to disperse incidentally, from time to time, and as a path for it opens itself, a more correct knowle.lge of the theory of the Churoh of England. It is clear the people at large are very little informed on this head. Much, indeed, of the religious strife and contention which one grieves to see going on (in some degree at present, though in a greater some time ago) arises purely from this want of information in the country at large; and though the hints I have to submit to you on the subject of their initiation may seem to you very far from recondite, yet I have reason to believe, from my own experience, that they would not be superfluous, or that to diffuse them would be labour thrown away. It is perfectly true that owing to the defective historical knowledge of the last generation of clergy the people of this country are very ignorant of the theory of the Anglican Church. What little they have heard about it has been from Romanists and Dissenters, from whom they have imbibed prejudices which the clergy man now finds it difficult to eradicate But we cannot think the advice given by Mr. Blunt particularly judicious, especially for a young man just entering upon his first cure. Meu of this sort are usually only too ready to introduce such subjects, as it is ; and we sus pect there are but few who could act upon our author's hints here given without con siderable chance of either offending or weary ing their listeners. In the lectures on "The Rubrics and Canons" and " The Parish Priest as a Churchman," Mr. Blunt shows himself in rather a more pleasing light. He is more completely at home, notwithstanding his twenty years' ex perience of parochial duties; and we are happy to see sound church views put forward with so much temperance and reason. We shall present our readers with one more extract which we think merits attention. After hav ing defined what in his opinion is the true p.mition of the English clergy, he goes on to sly : Bigotry this will be called, I dispute not ; but it is a day too late for me, when once ordained a minister of the Church of England, to flinch from this reproach. Bigot I subscribed myself, in the modern acceptation of the word, when I signed the Articles, and gave my consent to the Liturgy : for they it is which enforce every item on which the charge is founded. Then it WAY I put my hand to the plough, and I sin now too far committed to look back. I then condemned the Romanist—witness half the Articles ; I then condemned the Socinian—witness the Athanasian and Nicene Creeds ; I then condemned the Puritan — witness the 6th Article, the 19th, the 23rd, the 26th, the 330 i. the 34th, and the Preface to the Ordination Services. All of them sincere, no doubt, in their respective sena. meats, if that were enough. What pretensions, then, have Ito play the Liberal? I cannot unite in my own person, labour after it as much as I will, both the Latitudinarian THE PRESS. and the Exclusionist. The things are contrary the one to the other. The lectures on " The Reading of the Parish Priest " display a fair amount of learning, but we repeat our conviction that most men of parts who had gone through a college course of training would have found out as much for themselves; and those who are not so had better seek other ways of making themselves useful in their parishes, than by a system of dogmatic teaching. The Life and Adventures of J. P. Beck wourth, Chief of the Crow Nationof Indians. Written from his own dictation by T. D. Bonner. London : Sampson Low and Son. Tins narrative, from the United States' press, professes to be the life of a person who, having left his St. Louis home when young for the Great West in search of adventure, became an adopted " brave "of the Crow Indians, went through innumerable adventures, and finally settled in California, in " one of the pleasant valleys that border on Feather River." He is said to be well known to thousands of people on both sides the Sierra Nevada, and in his occasional vibits to San Francisco to vie "with " many prominent residents in the dress and " manners of the refined gentleman." If such be the case, he has little reason to be thankful to the person who has written this biography, professedly taken from his own lips, during some months' conversation in the winter of 1854-5 The value of such a narrative, if reliance could be placed on its literal truth, would be very great, but its evidences of the manu facturer's hand are too plain to be mistaken. Aceordinr , to the book, Mr. Beckwourth was born of American parents, in Virginia, 1798. His father had been a major in the re volutionary army ; therefore, we presume, of a respectable class. When lie was about seven or eight years old his father removed to St Louis on the Missouri, and it was here that the future chieftain first made his acquaintance with the red man. His first introduction to their peculiar habits was startling : One day my father called me to him, and inquired of me whether I thought myself man enough to carry a sack of corn to the mill. The idea of riding a horse, and visit ing town, possessed attractions which I could not resist, and I replied with a hearty affirmative. A sack of corn was accordingly deposited on the ha',k of a gentle horse selected for the purpose, and " Young Jim" (as I was called) was placed upon the sack, and started for the mill two miles distant. About midway to the mill lived a neighbour having a large family of children, with whim frequently joined in boyish sports. On my way i rode joyously up to the little fence which separated the house from the road, thinking to pass a word with my little play mates. What was my horror at discovering all the children, eight in number, from one to fourteen years of age, lying in various positions in the door-yard with their throats cut, their scalps torn off, and the warm life-blood still oozing from their gaping wounds ! In the doorway lay their father, and near him their mother, in the same con dition ; they had all shared the same tate. I found myself soon back at my father's house, but without the sack of corn—how I managed to get it off I never discovered-4rd related the circumstance to my father. He immediately gave the alarm throughout the settlement, and a body of men started in pursuit of the savages who had perpetrated this fearful tragedy; my lather, with ten of his own men, accompanying them. In two days the band returned, bringing with them eighteen Indian scalps; for the back woodsman fought the savage in Indian style, and it was scalp for scalp between them. When about fourteen he was apprenticed to a blacksmith in St. Louis, with whom he re mained five years, at the end of which time having had a " difficulty" with his " boss" on the subject of a love affair, he returned to his father's house, and soon after ,joined an expe dition into the Indian country for the purpose of making a treaty with them about some mines. This was the commencement of his wandering life, and to those readers who are ac quainted with Washington Irving's expedition to the prairies and Cooper's novels, we may say that the bulk of this work is of a similar character,—shooting and trapping being occa sionally diversified by fighting of the most savage character. It was during these wan derings that 13eckwourth became intimate with the Crow tribe, and that he adopted the fe rocity and licentiousness, as well as the skill and courage, of savage life. Witness the following : After a residence among them of a few days, I had slight difficulty in my family affairs. A party of Indians came into camp one day bringing with them three white men's SATURDAY 2 calps. The sight of them made my blood boil with rage ; but there was no help for it, so I determined to wait with patience my day of revenge. In accordance with their custom, a scalp•dance was held, at which there was much additional rejoicing. My wife came to me with the information that her people were rejoicing, and that she wished to join them iu the dance. I replied, "No ; these scalps belonged to my people ; my heart is crying for their death; you must not re• joice when my heart cries; you must not dance when I mourn." She then went out, as I supposed, satisfied. My two white friends, having a great curiosity to witness the per formance, were looking out upon the scene. I reproved them for wishing to witness the savage rejoicings over the fall of white men who had probably belonged to our own company. One of them answered, " Well, your wife is the best dancer of the whole party; she out•dances them all." This was a sting which pierced my very heart. Taking my battle-axe, and forcing myself into the ring, I watched my opportunity, and struck my disobedient wife a heavy blow in the head with the side of my battle-axe, which dropped her as if a ball had pierced her heart. I dragged her through the crowd, and left her; I then went tack to my tent. This act was performed in such a bold manner, under the very noses of hundreds of them. that they were thunder struck, and for a moment remained motionless with sur prise. When I entered the tent, I said to my companions, " There, now, you had better prepare to hold on to your own scalps, since you take so much interest in a celebra tion over those of your murdered brethren." Their counte nances turned ashy pale, expecting instant death. By this time the whole Indian camp was in a blaze " Kill him ! kill him! burn him ! but n him " was shouted throughout the camp in their own language, which I plainly understood. I was collected, for I knew they could kill me but onoe. _ . _ Soon I heard the voice of my father-in-law crying, in a tone which sounded above all, " Stop ! hold ! hold ! warriors ! listen to your chief." All was hushed in an instant, and he continued : " Warriors ! I am the loser of a daughter, and her brothers have lost a sister; you have lost nothing. She was the wife of the trader; I gave her to him. When your wives disobey your commands, you kill them ; that is your right. That thing disobeyed her husband; he told her not to dance ; she disobeyed him; she had no ears ; he killed her; and he did right. He did as you all would have done, and you shall neither kill nor harm him fur it." The old chief gives him a younger and better behaved girl for his wife ; arid as the one he (had felled with his hatchet was only stunned, not killed, he has the happiness of possessing two sisters to share his wigwam, with innumerable other wives elsewhere. A flourishing account is given of " Pine Leaf," the heroine of the Crow nation:— In connection with my Indian experience, I conceive it to be my duty to devote a few lines to one of the bravest women that ever lived, namely, Pine Leaf—in Indian, Bar-Ghee-am-pe. For an Indian, she possessed great intellectual powers. She was endowed with extraordinary muscular strength, with the activity of the cat and the speed of the antelope. Her features were pleasing, and her form symmetrical. She had lost a brother in the attack on our village before mentioned—a great brave, and her twin brother. He was a fine specimen of the race of red men, and bade fair to rise to distinction ; but he was struck down in his strength, and Pine Leaf was left to avenge his death. She was at that time twelve years of age, and she solemnly vowed that she would never marry until she had killed a hundred of the enemy with her own hand. Whenever a war-party started, Pine Leaf was the first to volunteer to accompany them. Her presence among them caused much amusement to the old veterans; but if she lacked physical strength, she always rode the fleetest horses, and none of the warriors could outstrip her. All admired her for her ambition, and as she still anced in years many of the braves grew anxious for the speedy ac complishment of her vow. She had chosen my party to serve in, and when I engaged in the fiercest struggles, no one was more promptly at my side than the young heroine. She seemed incapable of fear; and when she arrived at womanhood, could fire a gun without flinching, and use the Indian weapons with as great dexterity as the most accom plished warrior. I began to feel more than a common attachment toward her. Her intelligence charmed me, and her modest and becoming demeanour singled her out from her sex. One day, while riding leisurely along. I asked her to marry me provided we both returned safe. She flashed her dark eye upon mine, " You have too many already," she said. "Do you suppose I would break my vow to the Great Spirit? He sees and knows all things; he would be angry with me, and would not suffer me to live to avenge my brother's death." I told her that my medicine said 1 . must marry her, and then I could never he vanquished or killed in battle. She laughed and said, "Well, I will marry you." " When we return ?" " No ; but when the pine-leaves turn yellow." I reflected that it would soon be autumn, and regarded her promise as valid. A. few days afterward it occurred to my mind that pine leaves do not turn yellow, and I saw I had been practised upon However. to help her on with her vow, I never killed an Indian if she was by to perform it for me, thinking that when her number were immolated there might be better chance of pressing my suit. • • • • When she was by my side in battle, it seemed as if I had increased strength and courage; when she was away, which