The native American., 1838-03-03

own.
Go to him who hath fled from gaunt want
and howling msery-from the scorpion s'ihss :,
hunger and the scourge of task-mas'er' % '.is
your native land for supporter an asyiun ~
fraadon who only knows that his brethren De-
fore him have found refuge, and has heard thai
here honest industry, frugality, and temperance
will give him harvest of contentment. ASK MN
wbv he hath left the land of his fathers! ASK
him if his valley not as sweet as heart could
desire-if his vine-clad hills not more delicious
70 the eve than mines of wealth--if his snow
capped mountains not more gorgeous than
domes of sapphire-if the brightest sun that ever
gladdened the heart OF man does not shine, and
the purest breezes do not blow, and the kindest
rains are not shed upon those mountains, hills,
and valleys. Ask him, if for ages his fathers have
not gone to sleep in those lands; and the unbid-
den tear, responsive to the voice of nature, we'll
ing up from the overcharged heart, will attest the
truth of the love he bears that land. Then ask
him why he hath left all these for distant land,
to dwell among people of different kindred,
and speaking a stranger tongue: And he will tell
you tale Of hardship and oppression, that, like
refreshing dews, in weary land, will revive your
dropping patriotism, and lead you in thankfnlness
and praise to bless God that your lot has been
cast in the land of the free hearts hope and
home."
Go to the natives of those lands from which we
mainly derive our common descent, and In which
the same language is spoken in common with us.
Ask the proud and patriotic Engishman of his
home: And he will tell you Of the glory of his
ancestors, and the perfection of his laws-of the
superiority Of his countrymen, in every thing that
is excellent in man and admirable in society-of
fields more fertile than the virgin prairieof trees
more towering and vast, than we, In this w estcrn
land, have conceived of-of palaces and parks the
most splendid and picturesque: And as he tells
you of these things, his heart will swell with ma
five pride, and glow with the love Of his nafiUe
land But ask him why he hath left all these for
a home in the wilderness-for the laborious life,
the hard couch, the rough fare the solitary pursuits
Of pioneer, with none of his boasted uxuries and
few Of his Wanted comforts: And he will tell
you he seeks freedom:-that the spirit swept over
the field of Runeymede inspired the zeal
Of Hampden and Sidney-which fills the pages
of Magma Charta-is sleeping: that the ruined
castle wall, and the deserted halls of her vast Alb
hes. are fiji embiems and sad memorials of the
condition of public liberty now, where it once
moved in majesty, carrying with it the devotion
of whole people. From this picture, turn to
your own home, and thank Heaven that you are a
aafiUe of land where your life, liberty, and pro-
perty, are secured by seritten Constitution and
written Laws.
Go to the gallant and mercurial Irishman rest
less and full of action-who, whether attacking a
woman's heart, or an embatted town, would car
ry every thing by storms And ask him why he
has left his shieling. Ask him if his home-fhe
old cou,atry-is morass, a bog, in which neither
man nor reptile can find the means of life; or
bleak and barren mountain, on which vegetation
can find no hold; or waste and desolate rock, in
the midst of the ocean: He will tell you of his
ratiue land-the Emerald Isle, sung in song, and
told of in story-the brightest gem-the pearl Of
the ocean: and kindling with his theme, like the
harpers of his ancestors, he will pour forth a
bright flashing, and rushing stream of fervid eO-
quence; and with wild and unreguated enthusi-
asm, looking into the dim and misty past, he will
dwell upon the mighty deeds Of his ancestors;
the beauty, and strength, and vigor Of their sons
and daughters; the present moment utterly forgot
he dreams himself into happiness. But ask him
why he is here wearing out his life in laborious
and unwholesome drudgery; building up monu-
wealth; displaying mines of exhaustless riches,
and developing measureless resources for stran-
gers to his name and country, and he will tell
you-
The harp that through Tara's halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs mute Tara's walls
As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days
So gory's thrill is DER
And hearts that once beat high for praise,
Now feel that praise no more.
No more 10 chiefs and ladies bright
The harp of Tara swes-
The chord alone, that breaks at night,
Its tale of ruin tells
Thus Freedom seldom wakes
The only throb she gives
Is when some heart indignant breaks,
To show that still she lives
He will tell you that Ireland is no longer al
resting-place for the foot of freeman. Torn by
civil discord, and crushed by foreign misrue, the
"priests Of her liberties "weep between the porch
and the altar The altar! No. He will tell
YOU the altars are broken down and the temples
desecrated, and the fires of public liberty which
once burned bright on every hearth, are quench-
ed-not quite extinguished.
We see around us-among us-part of US
our fellow citizens, our parents, and dearest
friends, with US privileged to worshipin the vast
temple of civil and religious liberty, reared by our
ancestors, the natives Of other lands, adopted mem
bers of our own political family, to whom our
laws in their benefcence have extended equal