The Indian Is One Of Nature's Gentlemen--he

Curses, Like Chickens, Come Home To Roost.

Nature, Reason, And Christianity Recognize No Other. Pride May Say Nay; But Pride Was Always A Liar, And A Great Hater Of The Truth.

What A Wonderful Faculty Is Memory! -- The Most Mysterious And Inexplicable In The Great Riddle Of Life; That Plastic Tablet On Which The Almighty Registers With Unerring Fidelity The Records Of Being, Making It The Depository Of All Our Words, Thoughts And Deeds -- This Faithful Witness Against Us For Good Or Evil.

Ah, Hope! What Would Life Be, Stripped Of Thy Encouraging Smiles, That Teach Us To Look Behind The Dark Clouds Of Today, For The Golden Beams That Are To Gild The Morrow.

The Indian Is One Of Nature's Gentlemen--he Never Says Or Does A Rude Or Vulgar Thing. The Vicious, Uneducated Barbarians, Who Form The Surplus Of Overpopulous European Countries, Are Far Behind The Wild Man In Delicacy Of Feeling Or Natural Courtesy.