lie? No; for the truth lived in him, and none else could come out of him. In his youth, he was a warrior, and his moccasins left the stain of blood. In his age, he was wise; and his words at the council fire did not blow away with the winds."
"Ah! he has abandoned that vain relic of paganism, his songs," cried the good divine;— "what says he now? is he sensible of his lost state?"
"Lord! man," said Natty, "he knows his ind is at hand as well as you or I, but, so far from thinking it a loss to him, he believes it to be a great gain. He is now old and stiff, and you've made the game so scearce and shy, that better shots than him find it hard to get a livelihood. Now he thinks he shall travel where it will always be good hunting; where no wicked or unjust Indians can go; and where he shall meet all his tribe together ag'in. There's not much loss, in that, to a man whose hands be hardly fit for basket-making. Loss! if there be any loss, 'twill "be to me. I'm sure, after he's gone, there will be but little left for me to do but to follow."
"His example and end, which, I humbly trust, shall yet be made glorious," returned Mr. Grant, "should lead your mind to dwell on the things of another life. But I feel it to be my duty to smooth the way for the parting spirit. This is the moment, John, when the reflection that you did not reject the mediation of the Redeemer, will bring balm to your soul. Trust not to any act of former days, but lay the burthen of your sins at his feet, and you have his own blessed assurance that he will not desert you."
"Though all you say be true, and you have scripter gospels for it, too," said Natty, "you will make nothing of the Indian. He hasn't seen a Moravian priest sin' the war; and it's hard to keep them from going back to their native
