Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1859-11-09

cas-, -AZteCS ana Iia-,Uo,U~-.-.
down before the guns Of the English ana
French, or under the prancing hoofs of the
cavaliers of Spain. st. George and England
St. Eago and Spain were the war cries which
filled with terror more than twenty millions
of people, who knew not the religion Of
which these cries were the forewarnings.
Truly, it was voice crying in the wilderness
to the straying savages: prepare ye the
way of the Lord, and make his paths straight"
Poor savages they needed not the warning.
The voice was cloud, and in it were thunder
and flaming sword At the roll Of the
thunder au Indian tribe has always disap-
peared from the earth. At the fash of the
scimtar, Indian princes Of fifty descents,
have hurried unbidden to join their anses-
tors. The cannon and the sword have opened
the way through wilderness of savages,
who foolishy supposed the +" Great Spirit"
to whom they had ever sacrificed, would
guard for them their mountains and plains,
which they had inherited for unknown ages.
Foolish children Of nature! where were
your title deeds 7? "They are buried in the
ground. They are the bones Of hundred
generations of our fathers. Our landmarks
are the mounds that rise above the ashes OF
our heroes"
"Your deeds are not recorded, there is no
evidence that the grant was valid"
Fear not, oh, Indian they are recorded
among the archives of the Almighty, who
keeps the book of nations.
BY purchase, conquest, by deception, by
all the powers of art and science, the Indian
has been crowded westward, westward, ever
towards the setting sun. At length his jour
ney is ended. He has been travelling eight
hundred years, with occasional rests, since
the GLOVER of Thurid," Bioern Of Iceland
first asked an asylum on the shores Of the
Atlantic.
The Journey is ended, mysterious and tame
less wanderer The world will never again
produce thy like. Thou hast ever preferred
death to chains and a grave to slavery.
Through all thy long travel hope has never
deserted thy liberated heart. Thy God seems
to have forgotten thee for many centuries,
but thou hast continued to adore him in the
same simplicity and faith. Look not behind
thee, for thy footsteps are ploughed up, and
the scream of the locomotive is ecboing
among the solitudes where thy ancestors
sleep. There is no more land before thee.
| There is no Christ to bid thee walk on the
roaring waves. Thou wouldst not receive;
thou wouldst not be civilized. Those who
have urged thee to this last step, to the limit
of thy beloved earth, will pass thee, regard
less of waves, regardless Of those bowling
spirits of the ocean, whose eternal roar fills
thee with awe. Earth and sea belong to us.
W. lido ,,yoy, tbn u.ovaS nc fearless Nc thOu
thy wild horse upon the plains. Look till
thy eyes are dim, llustrious brave! thou
shalt see no resting place for thy wearied
feet. But every blast that streams thy tuft
of hair and mantle of skins is spirit Of thy
race, who comes to welcome thee to the un-
seen fields that lie beyond the azure curtain
of the skies. Poor savage. God, who
maketh the whilwind his chariot, will rend
the veil of heaven for thee to enter.-San
Francisco Golden Era.