The British Press; or, Morning Literary Advertiser.
London, England, 1822-11-13 00:00:00

enntemj
to-nsor

noble objects," end
Jber into • half,

buffeted by
grave-
diggers, make way fur new
comers, without s friendly moralizer to probounce
an " Alas, poor Yorick !" over our chop-fallen
crania—or perhaps (what is still more humiliating
in • posthumous point of view) to pe purloined by
resurrection-men, and hung up in dissecting-room,
as models of osteology for the instruction of sur-
geon's-mates for his Majesty's navy—the thoughts
Of all this would gall, as well it might, our vanity
to the quick, were it not tha; Religion. assured of
retribution, can smile at these iodiginties. and dis-
cover, in every rude cuff that miry be given to our
dishonoured bones, a farther. argument for the im-
mortality of the soul.

EXPEDITION
TO YHE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. •

Extracts from ohs Rietery of the Expedition Cola Pitte-
tormlo to the Rocky Meantime, is the year 1819, under
the eioinetand of Major Leat.

[From the National Gazelle.)

On the 14th Octobe►, four hundred Omawhew
',idioms assembled at Camp Missouri. Major
Oloalion addressed them i au appropriate speech,
stating the reasons for their being celled to council,
upon which Ongpasiotege, the Big filk, arose, and
after shaking by hand each of the whites present,
placed hie rnhe of otter skins and his mockasons
under the fret of the agent, whom he addressed to
the following effect, as his language was interpreted
by Mr. Dougherty :

"He had beard that his father wished to see, him, and he
hail wished to see and hear the words of his father, ever since
he I chant he was aseesdiag the river. He was informed
last fall of his being at the river Platte, and, as Ise could not
thew go to see hies. he had sow clime to visit him; sad here
am 1, my father. All these yams preigle you see 'mood you
here are yours; altbough they are poor and trilling, yet they
are children. I have always loved the whites siuee I first
, remember to have seen them, and this affection increases
with my age. All my esti.. love the white*, and always
have loved them. Assesaget all the gond things of this
world, I place the whites first. But it appears that there
are maay notions that live nearer to you than 1, that do sot
love you, though you have done more for them than you have
dose for me. When they meet with you, they flatter you,
is order to get preemie from yes, notwithstanding which,
they would not hesitate to kill some of your people on
their way home. Scone of them shake bands with you in a
friendly manner, whilst their hands are yet stained with your
blood; and if you examine your own hands, my father, 1
think you would hod some of it adhering to them yet. For
my part, my father, 1 am proud to boast, that any bands
are deem. Never has oat of my nation Waisted Ms hands
with the blood of a white loss. I do not uodersiaod, my
father, your merle of 'resting those well who treat you ill.
It is true, I know that you have more sense than what I
have, but I cornett woderstand it. I have heard that the
Parruees have been to use you, a nation that has killed rob.
bed, and insulted your people. I was also informed that
you feasted them, and at their departure put weapons in
their hands. 1 should not be surprised to hear that those
very weapons were stained with white man's blood, trefoil,
they reached the Pawnee village. This is what I carroot
uuderetsed. This circumstance led me to believe, that if
you treated those that have injured you so well, you surely
would treat your poor children the Onairwhaws, who have
sever dose harm to your people, with much kindness also.
But I am afraid the transaction will have a bad effect cm my
young mew. When they beard of Americas troops aft-end-
ing this river they retried and respected them. But I am
fearful that this transaction will throw them of their guard,
make them lose their respect for you, and cause them to do
sometbiug that they would sot otherwise have done, and
thus create trouble and difference Selects us. You said,
my father, that tho e troops do wet come to harm we. I
c.a•ider them all my brothers sod friends. So far from
'kicking they come to Here me, I regard them as my shield,
to gaud me against bad nations arrived me. You say that
if ever there is a difference between us, that it will be our
holt; but I hope not, my Giber. I nowt Air& that the
°maw haws will off e asy indignity to your people, sow that
they have sees all those troops, she. they have sot harmed
individuals who have resided years in their village appro.
tented, alibeugh we were then less ealighteiced than we now
are. Some thatch, my father, that you have brought all
these warriors here to take our land from us, but I do sot
believe It. Fur although lam but a poor simple Indian, yet I
know that this laud will Not suit your farmers; if I eves,
thought your hearts bad enough to take the land, I would
not fear it, sal know there is sot wood enough ea it for the
use of the whiles. Too might settle along this river where
timber is to belonad; hat we eels satrap get wood enough
is our country to make our little fres. There is one dolor
I fear, my father; my station is coming down here to bunt
this sister, and If you seed out your soldiers to hunt also,
they will drive off all the game, and our women and
children will starve. We have lamed of the ascent of the
troops up this river ever sines last fall; and we have been
told by other Dittoes that If they chaste to meet with soy
squaws unprotected they ravish them. But, my father, we
shall Room know if this is true or sot, because, having but
little to eat, our squaws will be obliged to go out Into the
prairies to dig roots-1 shall trust tapas, and sot hesitate to
let them go." He also observed that he could got see the
necessity of statioring so sassy troops here, as they had so
out to oppose; he thought it &Moak that they should go
higher up the river, to chestier those refractory ludians who
will not hetes to oar words. "There Is one thing, my
father," be observed, "which I wish you to inform me of.
We have heard of your tying op and whipping iedividush of
several 'ratings as you ascended this river. What is the
offnee which will subject us to this pouisliment 1 wish to
know, that I may inform my people, that they may be on
their guard." He then observed, that all his children were
poor, and that they had come with the expectation of receiv-
ing something from their father.
. _

This speech, contrary to the usual mode of Indian
orator., was eommeoced in a low tone, the voice
gradually rising as the speaker proceeded. until it
attained its roll intonation.

Several speakers subsequently went forward and
delivered their sentiments, generally alluding to the
circumstance of our treating those who injure us
kindly, and negleciiug our friends.

Ta-sone, the White Dote, spoke with the allusion,
and added—

M Look at sae, my father; look at my hands, examine me
well; lam a wild man, burn in the prairie" And auhs.•-
gnently—" I told you, my father, to look at me, that you
might see if there is say of the blood of your people opus
me. Some, whose hands have been stained with blood,
. . . .

socleavour tu wash it off, bat some of it will still remits."

It is proper to mention, as explanatory of some of
the allusions in the above speeches, that the Paw.
'tees, at the conclusion of their council, had been
invited to dine at Camp Missouri, and that msay of
their chiefs were there presented with sabres, as I
before stated. It was to this circumstance that the
•hove-mentioned apelike's had reference, as being
inexplicable to them, as it seemed us if we wished to
conciliste the good will of those evil doers through
fear ; and }et they could hardly accuse us of fear,
surrounded as we were by so formidable an array
of troops.

HIGH WATER AT LONDON BRIDGE THIS DAY.
idoniug 27 titer 1. I Evening 50 after 1.

lOW hem. end all o
Too ree 'wolves
pro e to be I
a, unit gelled up to rt.