Sentinel of the valley. [volume] (Woodstock, Va) 1841-1848, 1843-06-15
MISCELLANEOUS.
A beautiful Speech.

The Natchez Free Trader contains a
report ofa speech of Col. Cobb, the cell
citrate half-breed chief of the Choctaws,
made in reply to j. j. McRae, Esq, the
agent for enrolling and emisrating the
:. the west Of The Mississippi,
who had made speech to the indians,
about one Thousand in number, assem-
bled at Hopahla, informing them that
stheir council fires could no longer be
kindled here,' that stheir warriors can
have no field for their glory. and that
their spirits will decay within them,' and
that if they should take the hand Of
their great father, the President, which
is now offered to them, to lead them to
their western homes, then will .heir hopes
be brighter
The Natchez Courier appropriately
says Of this bit Of eIoquence, that for
cpmprehensyeness and breyitys for af-
iecting sublimity. we have never seen
lazy production to excel it. We publish
1as a composition worthy to be preser-
.vted.-N. O. Topic.
y BIblllsr-Eve have irsssd you tai, as
nss-rona the lips Ell cur s,sssscf. the "a
White Chief at Washington, AZ
people have called upon me to 81 K
you. The red s,an has no bnofssA
when he wishes to make knows s,,ps
views. like bis fathers before him. he
speaks from his mouth. He is afraid of
tvitaag. When he speaks, he knows
what he says; the Gleat Spirit hears him.
Writing is the invention of the pale fa-
ces. II gives birth to error and teuds.-
The Great Spirit aakks-we hear him in
the thunder--in the rushing wiads, and
in the mighty waves-bat lie never
.crifes.
Brother-Whan you were young we
were strong; we fought by your sides
but our arms are now broken. You have
grown large. Ny people have become
small.
Brotler-My voice is weak; you car
scarcely hear me; it is not the shout Of
d warrior. but the wall of an infant.
have lost it in mourning over the mlsfor-
tunes of my people. These are thell
graves, and in those aged pines you hear
the ghosts Of the departed. Their ashes
l
tect them. Our warriors are nearly all
gone to the far country west; but herr
are our dead. Shall we go too. and give
their bones to the wolves?
Brother-Two sleeps have passed
since we heard you talk. We have tho
upon it. You wish US to leave our coun
try, anil tell us it is our Fathers wish
We would not desire to displease ou
Father. We respect him, and you, hi:
child. But the Choctaw always thinks
We want time to answer.
Brother-Our hearts are full. Twelve
years ago our Chiefs sold cur country
Every warrior that you see here was OPP
posed to the treaty. If the dead coult
hove been counted, it could never hay,
beer made; but aiasi though they stoot
around, they could not be seen OF heard
Their tears came in the rain-drops ant
their voices IN the wailing wind, but Sh
pale face knew it not, and our land Wa
taken away.
Brother-We d. not now complain :
The Choctaw suffers, but never weeps
You have the strong arm and we canDo
resist. But the pale face worships tn
Great Spirit; so does the red man. I'll
Great Spirit loves truth. When 70,
took our country, you promised US land
There is your promise in the book
Twelve times have the trees droppe,
their leaves, and yet we have re
ceived no lard. Our houses hay
been taken from US. The whit
mans plough turns up the bones O
our fathers. We dare not kindl
our fires and yet you SAID "
might remain and you would give u
land.
Brother-Is this TRUTH But we be
iieye now our Great Father knows GU
condition; be will listen 10 US. We ar
as mourning orphans in our country; bu
our Father viii take us by the hand
When he fulfils his promise, we will an