King Philip. They spent the night in free conversation. Anawon gave a narrative of his mighty successes in former wars. In the morning, they marched to Taunton. Church and Anawon, with half a dozen friendly Indians, went to Rhode-Island, while the troops and other prisoners were sent to Plymouth, where Church soon followed them. LESSON NINETY-SIXTH. Birth of an Eldest Son. Welcome, little helpless stranger, Lift thine eyes, and look around thee; Welcome to a mother's bosom, Joy thou bring'st, but mixed with trouble, Who can say what lies before thee, Who can tell what eager passions Who can tell how wide the branches Angels guard thee, lovely blossom, LESSON NINETY-SEVENTH. Christian Indian. In the year 1742, a veteran warrior of the Lenape nation and Monsey tribe, renowned among his own people for his bravery and prowess, and equally dreaded by their enemies, joined the Christian Indians who then resided at this place, (Bethlehem.) This man, who was then at an advanced age, had a most striking appearance, and could not be viewed without astonishment. Besides that his body was full of scars, where he had been struck and pierced by the arrows of the enemy, there was not a spot to be seen, on that part of it which was exposed to view, but what was tattooed over with some drawing relative to his achievements, so that the whole together struck the beholder with amazement and terror. On his whole face, neck, shoulders, arms, thighs, and legs, as well as on his breast and back, were represented scenes of the various actions and engage ments he had been in; in short, the whole of his history was there deposited, which was well known to those of his nation, and was such that all who heard it thought it could never be surpassed by man. Far from murdering those who were defenceless or unarmed, his generosity, as well as his courage and skill in the art of war, was acknowledged by all. When, after his conversion, he was questioned about his warlike feats, he frankly and modestly answered; "That, being now taken captive by Jesus Christ, it did not become him to relate the deeds he had done while in the service of the evil spirit; but that he was willing to give an account of the manner in which he had been conquered." At his baptism, on the 23d of December, 1742, he received the name of Michael, which he preserved until his death, which happened on the 24th July, 1756. He led the life of a true Christian, and was always ready and willing to relate the history of his conversion, which I heard myself from his own mouth. His age, when he died, was supposed to be about eighty years. LESSON NINETY-EIGHTH. Power of Beauty. Liberal nature did dispense To all things arms for their defence; Wisdom for shield, and wit for sword. What arms, what armor, has she assigned? And yet what fiame, what lightning e'er wwwwwww LESSON NINETY-NINTH. The hospitable African. The enterprising traveller, Mungo Park, was employed by a society in England, to explore the interior regions of Africa. In this hazardous undertaking, he encountered many dangers and difficulties. His wants were often supplied, and his distresses alleviated, by the kindness and compassion of the negroes. He gives the following lively and interesting account of the hospitable treatment he received from a poor negro woman. Having passed a whole day without victuals in the shade of a tree, I had no prospect but that of passing a very uncomfortable night; for the wind rose, and there was a great appearance of a heavy rain; the wild beasts, too, were so numerous, that I should have been under the necessity of climbing up the tree, and resting among the branches. About sunset, however, as I was preparing to pass the night in this manner, and had turned my horse loose, that he might graze at liberty, a negro woman, returning from the labors of the field, stopped to observe me; and, perceiving that I was weary and de jected, inquired into my situation. I briefly explained it to her; after which, with looks of great compassion, she took up my saddle and bridle, and told me to follow her. Having conducted me into her hut, she lighted a lamp, spread a mat on the floor, and told me I might remain there for the night. Finding I was very hungry, she went out to procure me something to eat; and returned, in a short time, with a very fine fish; which, having caused to be half broiled upon some embers, she gave me for supper. The rites of hospitality being thus performed towards a stranger in distress, my worthy benefactress (pointing to the mat and telling me that I might sleep there without apprehension) called to the female part of her family, who stood gazing on me all the while in fixed astonishment, to renew their task of spinning cotton, with which they continued to employ themselves a great part of the night. They lightened their labor by songs; one of which was composed extempore, for I was myself the subject of it. It was sung by one of the young women, and the rest joined in a sort of chorus. The air was sweet and plaintive, and the words, literally translated, were these: "The winds roared, and the rains fell. The poor white man, faint and weary, came and sat under our tree. He has no mother to bring him milk, no wife to grind him corn. Let us pity the white man; no mother has he to give him milk, no wife to grind him corn." Trifling as these events may appear to the reader, they were to me affecting in the highest degree. I was oppressed by such unexpected kindness, and sleep fled from my eyes. In the morning, I presented to my compassionate landlady, two of the four brass buttons which remained on my waistcoat, the only recompense it was in my power to make her |