It is true, that these highly polished,
and, we may justly add, humane nations--(for each is, out of all
question, entitled to that character in the scale of comparative
humanity as between communities, and each if you will take its own
account of the matter, stands at the head of civilization in this
respect)--would, notwithstanding these high claims, carry on their
AMERICAN wars by the agency of the tomahawk, the scalping-knife, and
the brand. Eulogies, though pronounced by ourselves on ourselves,
cannot erase the stains of blood. Even down to the present hour, a
cloud does not obscure the political atmosphere between England and
America, that its existence may not be discovered on the prairies,
by a movement among the In-dians. The pulse that is to be felt there
is a sure indication of the state of the relations between the
parties. Every one knows that the savage, in his warfare, slays both
sexes and all ages; that the door-post of the frontier cabin is
defiled by the blood of the infant, whose brains have been dashed
against it; and that the smouldering ruins of log-houses oftener
than not cover the remains of their tenants. But what of all that?
Brutus is still "an honorable man," and the American, who has not
this sin to answer for among his numberless transgressions, is
reviled as a semi-barbarian! The time is at hand, when the Lion of
the West will draw his own picture, too; and fortunate will it be
for the characters of some who will gather around the easel, if they
do not discover traces of their own lineaments among his labors.
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