joy to lie on the mats of his fathers.  Mr.——­, some years ago, received from a good old Indian, who died in his house, a young lad, of nine years of age, his grandson.  He kindly educated him with his children, and bestowed on him the same care and attention in respect to the memory of his venerable grandfather, who was a worthy man.  He intended to give him a genteel trade, but in the spring season when all the family went to the woods to make their maple sugar, he suddenly disappeared; and it was not until seventeen months after, that his benefactor heard he had reached the village of Bald Eagle, where he still dwelt.  Let us say what we will of them, of their inferior organs, of their want of bread, etc., they are as stout and well made as the Europeans.  Without temples, without priests, without kings, and without laws, they are in many instances superior to us; and the proofs of what I advance, are, that they live without care, sleep without inquietude, take life as it comes, bearing all its asperities with unparalleled patience, and die without any kind of apprehension for what they have done, or for what they expect to meet with hereafter.  What system of philosophy can give us so many necessary qualifications for happiness?  They most certainly are much more closely connected with nature than we are; they are her immediate children, the inhabitants of the woods are her undefiled off-spring:  those of the plains are her degenerated breed, far, very far removed from her primitive laws, from her original design.  It is therefore resolved on.  I will either die in the attempt or succeed; better perish all together in one fatal hour, than to suffer what we daily endure.  I do not expect to enjoy in the village of------an uninterrupted happiness; it cannot be our lot, let us live where we will; I am not founding my future prosperity on golden dreams.  Place mankind where you will, they must always have adverse circumstances to struggle with; from nature, accidents, constitution; from seasons, from that great combination of mischances which perpetually lead us to new diseases, to poverty, etc.  Who knows but I may meet in this new situation, some accident from whence may spring up new sources of unexpected prosperity?  Who can be presumptuous enough to predict all the good?  Who can foresee all the evils, which strew the paths of our lives?  But after all, I cannot but recollect what sacrifice I am going to make, what amputation I am going to suffer, what transition I am going to experience.  Pardon my repetitions, my wild, my trifling reflections, they proceed from the agitations of my mind, and the fulness of my heart; the action of thus retracing them seems to lighten the burden, and to exhilarate my spirits; this is besides the last letter you will receive from me; I would fain tell you all, though I hardly know how.  Oh! in the hours, in the moments of my greatest anguish, could I intuitively represent to you that variety of thought which crowds on my