From the Religious Intelligencer.

LETTER

FROM A CHEROKEE CHILD TO THE CHILDREN OF THE U.S.

[There is a pathos in the following beautiful lines which must touch the heart of those who can feel for others woes. We hope those to whom it is addressed will regard the supplication -'PRAY FOR US.']

We had a Teacher, and his voice was kind

To us poor Indians.- Though his brow was white,

He did not scorn us.-When he spake of Him

Who took young children in his arms, and died

Upon the cross for sinners, such a light

Would kindle in his eye, and he would strive

So for our soul's salvation, that we blest

His holy tenderness. But he is gone,

They took him from us. Men who would not heed

Our misery, did hang a heavy chain

About his neck, and o'er the rocky road

And through the storm and darkness, lead him on

To lock him in a prison. Side by side,

With the blood shedder, and the thief he toils.

Clad in coarse garments and with no fond smile

Of wife or babe to cheer him. Months have fled.

And they release him not. Yet he hath done

No harm, except to teach the Cherokees

Their Bible-duty and the hope of Heaven

That glorious home from whence no one can drive.-

Each night I weep, and ask the white man's God

To give us back our Teacher.-Pray for us,

White children!-happy children!- you who know

Far more then us.-Oh! when you kneeling ask

Pity for those who mourn, beg God to bring

our blessed Teacher from his prison house

That we may listen to his words again.

Hartford Feb. 16th 1832

L. H. S.