A friend has favored us with several extracts of letters relating to that much abused, but always interesting race, the Indians. The first is from a gentleman residing near the South line of Tennessee. To avoid misconception, or intentional misunderstanding, it may be proper to state that his remarks are by no means intended to apply to the whole population who surround the Cherokees, or indeed to any considerable part of them. Yet the number to whom they do apply, is sufficiently great to make the Indians miserable and inflict on them all manner of abuse [Journal of Com.
Saunders gave a very distressing picture of the Cherokees in the south part of the nation. He thinks there is more sin committed by whites and Cherokees on the Hightower River from the Sixes to the Forks, than in all the country besides. White men crowd in with liquor, and take the poor Indians immediately in this net. One man,he mentioned in particular, I think from Tennessee, who takes loads of whiskey, of which he gives away great quantities to keep the Indians drunk , and * * * * * * * * *
Here I will speak one good word for the Indians. It seems generally admitted, at the present day, that Indians are better than the whites around them. Men in almost the highest standing in the United States seem to admit this, and make it an argument for urging a removal to the West. They cannot be surrounded by American citizens without having their property torn from them, their minds corrupted, and their morals debased; therefore they must leave American citizens, and retire to the uncivilized inhabitants of the forrest! American
citizens are so much worse than the Indians, that the latter cannot live near them. Do not facts sufficiently evince this? While the white man can go and come without fear of robbery, oppression or murder, the poor Indian must watch night and day to preserve even one little pony to plough his field, or one poor cow to nourish his children, or one beeve to furnish meat for his table. White women can pass and repass with safety among the Indians, yet the Indians must watch with the most anxious solicitude, or their wives and daughters will be betrayed, debauched, ' worse than murdered by American citizens. They must watch also every motion of their own hearts, or they are made drunkards before they know it by American citizens who are constantly forcing intoxicating poison into their hands. Wherever they go, which way so ever they turn, they find American citizens with some dark and deep laid plan to rob them of their property, their friends, their virtue, their good name, their all. And what can they do? They cannot live with such wretches. They must go to the more virtuous Comanches of the West! If American citizens were not insensible to shame, they would blush at the recital of their deeds; but they now glory in their shame. Were their hearts accessible to any of the milder feelings of human nature, they would pity the victims of their cruelty; but now they cannot feel. All the eloquence of heaven would not move them to compassion nor incline them to justice. Yes, American citizens are so much worse than the Indians, that the latter cannot live near them without being robbed, corrupted, and debased; therefore they must remove. Let all the world know this. Let France, and England know it. Let Spain know it, and be told that the poor Indians will perhaps be obliged to fly from their own land to seek refuge in her dominions. Let Italy know it. Let the Pope of Rome be told that the offensive Indians think of fleeing from the perfidy of American citizens to the more benignant influence of the Inquisition.
The following is an extract of a letter from George W. Harkins, the same who wrote the farewell address to the people of the United States published in the papers sometime since. It is dated at the Wachita River, Dec. 28.
'We arrived at this place about two weeks ago. Joel Nail and his party came in company with us. We came up to this place in the steam boats from Vicksburg. We sent our horses and oxen by land, and about 250 head of horses had died on the road. We have had very bad weather. Since we landed at this place, about twenty of Nail's party have died, and still they are continuing to die. Two of my party have died. We are about 200 miles from our country on Red River. It will be some time in February before we get to where we want to settle. There are 1200 of us in company, and we are compelled to travel slow, as there are so many sick people. I am afraid a great many will die before we get home. Nail has 400 with him. He has been very sick, but is now on the mend.
From Paulson's American Daily Adv.
The following address was composed and written by a native Indian Chief of the Lenni Lenappi, or Delaware tribe of Indians. The address was presented to the committee of the present Legislature of New Jersey, to whom was referred the petition of the remnant of this once powerful tribe. The petition states, that in the respective treaties and transfers of the lands south of the Raritan, the right of hunting on all uninclosed lands, and of fishing in the bays and rivers of New Jersey, were reserved to the tribe, and prays some compensation for the fisheries which they have never transferred.
This tribe left the state about thirty years since, and are now located on the Fox River, near Green Bay, in the territory of Michigan. This tribe, once 'the grand father of nations,' is now reduced to about forth in number. They are an agricultural, civilized people, and are surrounded by wild and savage tribes. They are poor and unless they receive some assistance, they must abandon their farms and return to savage life. They have deputed their aged chief to proceed to the council fire of their white brothers, in the land of their forefathers, who has accordingly proceeded to Trenton, and appealed to the Legislature, as friends, fathers, and protectors. This appeal should not be made in vain-justice, Christianity, and the civilization of the wild and rude inhabitants of the western forest, requires that some compensation should be granted to them.
From your humble petitioners,
BARTHOLOMEW S. CALVIN,
In behalf of himself and his red brethren
February 18th, A.D. 1832