These questions are answered only by gilded promises in general terms`; they are to become enlightened and civilized husbandmen. They now live by the cultivation of the soil and the mechanical arts. It is proposed to send them from their cotton fields, their farms and their gardens, to a distant and unsubdued wilderness; to make them tillers of the earth`; to remove them from their looms, their workshops, their printing-press, their schools and churches, near the white settlements, to frowning forests, surrounded with naked savages, that they may become enlightened and civilized!

2. We have pledged to them our protection; and, instead of shielding them where they now are, within our reach, under our own arm, we send these natives of a southern clime to northern regions, among fierce and warlike barbarians. And what security do we propose to them? A new guaranty! Who can look an Indian in the face, and say to him, "We and our fathers, for more than forty years, have made to you the most solemn promises; we now violate and trample upon them all; but offer you in their steadanother guaranty!"

3. Will they be in no danger of attack from the primitive inhabitants of the regions to which they emigrate"? How can it be otherwise? The official documents show us the fact, that some of the few who have already gone, were involved in conflict with the native tribes, and compelled to a second removal.

4. How are they to subsist? Has not that country now as great an Indian population as it can sustain? What has become of the original occupants? Have we not already caused accession to their numbers, and been compressing them more and more? Is not the consequence inevitable, that some must be stinted in the means of subsistence"? Here too we have the light of experience. By an official communication from Governor Clark, the superintendent of Indian affairs, we learn that the most powerful tribes, west of the Mississippi, are, every year, so distressed by famine, that many die for want of food. The scenes of their suffering are hardly exceeded by the sieges of Jerusalem and Samaria. There might be seen the miserable mother, in all the tortures

which hunger could inflict, giving her last morsel for the sustenance of her child, and then fainting, sinking, and actually dying of starvation! And the orphan! no one can spare it food: it is put alive into the grave of the parent, which thus closes over the quick and the dead. And this is not a solitary instance only, "The living child is often buried with the dead mother."

5. I know, to what I expose myself. To feel any solicitude for the fate of the Indians, may be ridiculed as false philanthropy and morbid sensibility. Others may boldly say, "Their blood be upon us`, and sneer at scruples, as weakness unbecoming the stern character of a politician. If, in order to become a politician, it be necessary to divest the mind of the principles of good faith and moral obligation, and harden the heart against every touch of humanity, I confess that I am not-and by the blessing of heaven, will never be a politician.

6. We can not wholly silence the monitor within us. It may not be heard amid the clashing of the arena`; in the tempest and convulsions of political contentions; but its still small voice will speak to us, when we meditate alone at even-tide; in the silent watches of the night; when we lie down and when we rise up, from a solitary pillow; and in that dread hour, when,-"not what we have done for ourselves ́, but what we have done for others," will be our joy and strength; when, to have secured, even to a poor and despised Indian`, a spot of earth upon which to rest his aching head; to have given him but a cup of cold water` in charity, will be a greater treasure, than to have been the conquerors of kingdoms, and lived in luxury upon the spoils.

REMARK.-It will be observed that the words "Indian" and "water" in the last paragraph, receive the falling inflection as a mark of emphasis. There is also, in the same paragraph, an example of the inflections belonging to a series of members, and also to antithesis, which subjects will be more particularly noticed hereafter.

Fox was a celebrated English statesman. This is an extract from a speech delivered during a truce in the war between England and France.

In this lesson, the influence of a negative in determining the rising inflection, is particularly noticeable.

1. "BUT we must pause," says the honorable gentleman, What! must the bowels of Great Britain be torn out, her best blood spilt, her treasures wasted', that you may make an experiment? Put yourselves,-O! that you would put yourselves on the field of battle, and learn to judge of the sort of horrors you excite. In former wars, a man might, at least, have some feeling, some interest, that served to balance in his mind the impressions which a scene of carnage and death must inflict.

2. But if a man were present now at the field of slaughter, and were to inquire for what they were fighting",--" Fighting!"* would be the answer"; "they are not fighting ́; they are pausing." "Why is that man expiring? Why is that other writhing with agony? What means this implacable fury`?" The answer must be, "You are quite wrong, sir, you deceive yourself,-they are not fighting",-do not disturb them, they are merely pausing! This man is not expiring with agony,—that man is not dead',-he is only pausing! Bless you, sir, they are not angry with one another; they have now no cause of quarrel; but their country thinks that there should be a pause`. All that you see is nothing like fighting ́,—there is no harm ́, nor cruelty ́, nor bloodshed in it; it is nothing more than a political pause! It is merely to try an experiment-to see whether Bonaparte will not behave himself better than heretofore; and in the mean time, we have agreed to a pause, in pure friendship!"

3. And is this the way that you are to show yourselves the advocates of order? You take up a system calculated to uncivilize the world, to destroy order, to trample on

*Rule VIII.

religion, to stifle in the heart, not merely the generosity of noble sentiment', but the affections of social nature; and in the prosecution of this system, you spread terror and devastation all around you.

REMARK.—The words "pause" and "pausing" may, perhaps, with equal propriety, receive the falling circumflex.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT was born in Cummington, Mass., in 1794, and at an early age gave evidence of great precocity. His rank as a poet is among the very first in our country. In 1825, he went to New York, where he has since resided as editor of the New York Evening Post.

In the following lesson, the inflections characteristic of the imperative mood and of exclamations are exemplified.

1. WHEN the radiant morn of creation broke,

And the world in the smile of God awoke,

And the empty realms of darkness and death

Were moved through their depths by his mighty breath ́,

And orbs of beauty, and spheres of flame,

From the void abyss, by myriads came,
In the joy of youth as they darted away ́,
Through the widening waste of space to play';

2. Their silver voices, in chorus rung;

And this was the song the bright ones sung.
"Away`, away! through the wide, wide sky,
The fair blue fields that before us lie,

Each sun with the worlds that round us roll,
Each planet pois'd on her turning pole,
With her isles of green, and her clouds of white,
And her waters that lie, like fluid light.

3. "For the source of glory uncovers his face,
And the brightness o'erflows unbounded space,
And we drink, as we go, the luminous tides,
In our ruddy air and our blooming sides.
Lo! yonder the living splendors play`;
Away, on our joyous path, away`!

4 "Look, look`, through our glittering ranks afar,
In the infinite azure, star after star,

How they brighten and bloom as they swiftly pass`!

How the verdure runs o'er each rolling mass`!
And the path of the gentle winds is seen,

Where the small waves dance, and the young woods lean..

5. "And see! where the brighter day-beams pour,

How the rainbows hang in the sunny shower;
And the morn and the eve with their pomp of hues,
Shift o'er the bright planets, and shed their dews`;
And 'twixt them both on the teeming ground,
With her shadowy cone, the night goes round!
6. “Away`! away`! in our blossoming bowers,
In the soft air, wrapping these spheres of ours
In the seas and fountains that shine with morn,
See, love is brooding, and life is born;
And breathing myriads are breaking from night,
To rejoice, like us, in motion and light`.

7. "Glide on, in your beauty, ye youthful spheres,
To weave the dance that measures the years.
Glide on`, in glory and gladness sent
To the farthest wall of the firmament,
The boundless visible smile of Him,

To the vail of whose brow our lamps are dim."

In these paragraphs, notice the inflections proper to antithesis and series.

THE FINAL JUDGMENT.

BEFORE that assembly every man's good deeds will be declared, and his most secret sins disclosed. As no elevation of rank will then give a title to respect, no obscurity of condition shall exclude the just from public honor, or screen the guilty from public shame. Opulence will find itself no longer powerful; poverty will be no longer weak.` Birth will no longer be distinguished"; meanness will no longer pass unnoticed. The rich and the poor will indeed strangely mingle together; all the inequalities of the present life shall disappear`, and the conqueror and his captive`; the monarch and his subject; the lord and his vassal; the statesman and the peasant; the philosopher and the unlettered hind'; shall find their distinctions to have been mere illusions`.