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power. Any effort to break his yoke, is almost as hopeless as the task of Sysiphus wło rolls the huge stone upwards on a precipitous hill.

Desperate as is the undertaking, I boldly dare it. If I perish in the attempt, let it be inscribed on my tomb--Mugnis excidit ausis. I wish to rescue from his anathema one simple garment, which on its first introduction, appeared highly grotesque, but was soon found to be uncommonly convenient and comfortable. I mean the Spencer, which is now so completely exploded, that I believe there are but two or three in the city, one of which I still venture

to wear.

The advantages of this now antiquated vestment, arc by no means inconsiderable. There are in every year at least fifty or sixty days in which the atmosphere is so humid, that some extra covering is necessary, more particularly for valetudinarians--and indeed for those persons in high health, who do not wish to enrol themselves among the valetudinarians; and yet the weather is not so adverse as to induce a man going abroad to use a great coat. On all such occasions, how imperiously does prudence raise her voice in favour of the rejected Spencer, and invite him back to resume his quondam place in our wardrobes?

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Taste. " There is no disputing about tastes,” said one of the ancient philosophers. Every day exemplifies the correctness of the adage. In passing through the streets of Philadelphia, an observer is struck with the novel taste in the inscriptions painted upon some modern show-boards and signs. The effeminate and petit maitre Roman and Italic characters are discarded, and the bold, masculine and rough Gothic ci acters have usurped their place. Public thanks are cilie to lose zentlemen, who have effected this improvement. It is to be hoped that they will not stop here-but irtroduce some of the manners and customs of the aboriginals of our country, which modern cifeminacy has discarded. For instance how much less troublesome would it be for our ladies to wear blankets, held together by skewers, thian all the parapharnalia of the toilette, such as offerds our eyes every day? What an improvement would it be for our beaux to

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cover themselves with the skins of bears and wolves and panthers, which could be provided with so much case, instead of submitting to be measured by M'Alpin, Watson, Wildes or Thaw?

Some fastidious people will probably object to these improvements, as they do to the novel shape of the letters on the showboards. I hope such absurd objections will be of no avail, and that my suggestions, which have just the same forcible arguments to support them as the Gothic characters, which is, that they are the antipodes to the customs that have hitherto prevailed, will proceed fari passu with the innovations of the painters.

FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

MR. EDITOR,

The late newspaper accounts of the intrigues of that mysterious Indian known by the title of the Prophet of Tileghany, brought to my mind the following procluction. It was written some years ago, and the principal circum

stances are certainly true. In the report of the Newyork missionary so. ciety for 1805, there particular mention made of the intrigues of this singular person.

Tours, &c.

THE PROPHET OF THE ALLEGIANI.

In the year 1798 one of the missionaries to the Indians of the North-west, was on his way from the Tuscarora settlement to the Senecas. Journeying in pious meditation through the forest, a majestic Indian darted from its recesses and arrested his progress. His hair was somewhat changed with age, and his face marked with the deep furrows of time; but his eye expressed all the fiery vivacity of youthful passion, and his step was that of a warrior in the vigour of manhood “ White man of the ocean,

* whither wanderest thou?” said

* The Indians at first imagined that the white men originally sprung from the sea, and that they invaded their country because they had none of

the Indian. “ I am travelling," replied the meek disciple of peace, « towards the dwellings of thy brethren, to teach them the knowledge of the only true God, and to lead them to peace and happiness.” “ To peace and happiness!" answered the tall chief, while his eye flashed fire –“Behold the blessings that follow the footsteps of the white man; wherever he comes the nations of the woodlands fade from the eye like the mists of morning. Once over the wide forest of the surrounding world, our people roamed in peace and freedom, nor ever dreamed of greater happiness, than to hunt the bcaver, the bear and the wild deer. From the farthest extremity of the great deep came the white man armed with thunder and lightning, and weapons still more pernicious. In war he hunted us like wild beasts; in peace he destroyed us by deadly liquors, or yet more deadly frauds. Yet a few moons had passed away and whole nations of invincible warriors, and of hunters that fearless swept the forest and the mountain, perished vainly opposing their triumphant invaders; or quietly dwindled into slaves and drunkards, and their names withered from the earth. Retire, dangerous man, leave us all we yet have left, our savage virtues and gods; and do not in the vain attempt to cultivate a rude and barren soil pluck up the few thrifty plants of native growth, that have survived the fostering cares of thy people, and weathered the stormy career of their pernicious friendship." The tall chief darted into the wood, and the good missionary pursued his way with pious resolution.

our

He preached the only true divinity, and placed before the eyes of the wondering savages the beauty of holiness, the sufferings of the Redeemer, and the sublimc glories of the christian Heaven. He allured them with the hope of everlasting bliss, and alarmed them with denunciations of an eternity of misery and despair. The awe struck Indians, roused by these accumulated motives; many of them adopted the precepts of the missionary so far as they could comprehend them; and in the

their own. They sometimes called them in their song's “the white foam of the ocean," and this name is still often applied contemptuously, by the savages of the northwest.

course of cighteen months their devotion became rational, regular, and apparently permanent.

All at once however, the little church in which the good man was woni to pen his fold, became deserted. No votary came as wuul to listen with decent reverence to the pure doctrines which they were there accustomed to hear; and only a few solitary idlers were seen of a Sunday

morning lounging about and casting a wistful yet fearful look at their little peaceful and low silent mansion.

The missionary sought them out, inquired into the cause of this mysterious desertion, and told them of the bitterness of hereafior to those who having once known abandoned the religion of the only truc God. The poor Indians shook their heads, and informed him that the Great Spirit was angry at their apostacy, and had sent a prophet for the suminit of the Alleghany mountain, to warn them against the admission of new doctrines; that there was to be a great inceting of the old men soon, and that the prophet would there deliver to the people the message with which he was intrusted. The zealous missionary determined to be present, and to confront the impostor who was known by the appellation of the Prophet of the Alleghany. He accordingly obtained permission from the chiefs to appear at the council, and to reply to the charges that might be brought forward. The 12t! day of June 1809, was the time fixed for the decision of this solemn question, "whether the belief of their forefathers, or thai or the white men was the true religion?" The usual councii liouse not being large enough to contain so great an assemblage of people, they met in a valley about eight miles to the westward of the Seneca Lake. This valley was then embowered under lofty trees; it is surrounded on almost every side with high rugged hills, and through it meandcrs a small river.

call forth every energy of the human heart. On a smooth level, near the bank of the slow stream, under the shade of a large elm sat the chief men of the tribes.

-Around the circle which they formed, was gathered a croud of wondering savages, with eager looks, sceming to demand the

It was

a scene to

true God at the hands of their wise men. In the middle of the circle sat the aged and travel worn missionary.--A few gray hairs wandered over his brow, his hands were crossed on his bosom, and as he cast his hope beaming eye to Heaven, he seemed to be calling with pious fervour upon the God of truth to vindicate his own eternal word by the mouth of his servant. : For more than half an hour there was silence in the valley, save the whispering of the trees in the south-wind, and the indistinct murmuring of the river. Then all at once a sound of astonishment passed through the croud, and the prophet of the Alleghany, was seen descending one of the high hills; with furious and frenzied step, he entered the circle, and waving his hand in token of silence, the missionary saw with wonder, the same tall chief who four years before had crossed him in the Tuscarora forest. The same panther-skin hung over his shoulder, the same tomahawk quivered in his hand, and the same fiery and malignant spirit burned in his red eye. He addressed the awestruck Indians, and the valley rung with his iron voice.

“ Red man of the woods, hear what the Great Spirit says to his children who have forsaken him!

“ Through the wide regions that were once the inheritance of my people, and where for ages they roved as free as the wild winds, resounds the axe of the white men. The paths of your forefathers are polluted by their steps, and your hunting fields are every day wrested from you by their arts. Once on the shores of the mighty ocean your fathers were wont to enjoy all the luxuriant delights of the deep. Now you are exiles in swamps or on barren hills; and these wretched possessions you enjoy by the precarious tenure of the white man's will. The shrill cry of revelry or war no more is heard on the majectic shores of the Hudson, or the sweet banks of the silver Mohawk. There where the Indian lived and died free as the air he breathed, and chased the panther and the deer from morn till eveningeven there the christian slave cultivates the soil in undisturbed possession; and as he whistles behind his plow, turns up the sacred remains of your buried ancestors. Have ye not heard at evening and sometimes in the dead of night, those mournful

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