DIALOGUES.

ONE HUNDRED AND SECOND LESSON.

CHARLES II. AND WILLIAM PENN

Charles. WELL, friend William! I have sold you a noble province in North America; but still I suppose you have no thoughts of going thither yourself.

Penn. Yes, I have, I assure thee, friend Charles; and I am just come to bid thee farewell.

Char. What! venture yourself among the savages of North America! Why, man, what security have you that you will not be in their war-kettle in two hours after setting foot on their shores ?

Penn. The best security in the world.

Char. I doubt that, friend William; I have no idea of any security against those cannibals, but in a regiment of good soldiers, with their muskets and bayonets. And mind I tell you beforehand, that, with all my good will for you and your family, to whom I am under obligations, I will not send a single soldier with you.

Penn. I want none of thy soldiers, Charles: I depend on something better than thy soldiers.

Char. Ah! and what may that be?

Penn. Why, I depend upon themselves-on the workings of their own hearts-on their notions of justice-on their moral

sense.

Char. A fine thing, this same moral sense, no doubt; but I fear you will not find much of it among the Indians of North America.

Penn And why not among them, as well as others?

Char. Because, if they had possessed any, they would not have treated my subjects so barbarously as they have done. Penn. That is no proof to the contrary, friend Charles. Thy subjects were the aggressors. When thy subjects first went to North America, they found these poor people the fondest and kindest creatures in the world. Every day they would watch

for them to come ashore, and hasten to meet them, and feast them on the best fish, and venison, and corn, which was all that they had. In return for this hospitality of the savages, as we call them, thy subjects, termed Christians, seized on their country and rich hunting-grounds, for farms for themselves! Now, is it to be wondered at, that these much injured people should have been driven to desperation by such injustice; and that, burning with revenge, they should have committed some

excesses?

Char. Well, then, I hope you will not complain when they come to treat you in the same manner.

Penn. I am not afraid of it.

Char. Ah! how will you avoid it? You mean to get their hunting-grounds too, I suppose?

Penn. Yes, but not by driving these poor people away from them.

Char. No, indeed! How then will you get the lands?
Penn. I mean to buy their lands of them.

Char. Buy their lands of them! Why, man, you have already bought them of me.

Penn. Yes, I know I have, and at a dear rate, too; but I did it only to get thy good will, not that I thought thou hadst any right to their lands.

Char. How, man! no right to their lands!

Penn. No, friend Charles, no right at all: what right hast thou to their lands?

Char. Why, the right of discovery, to be sure; the right which the pope and all Christian kings have agreed to give one another.

Penn. The right of discovery! A strange kind of right, indeed! Now, suppose, friend Charles, that some canoe-loads of these Indians, crossing the sea, and discovering thy island of Great Britain, were to claim it as their own, and set it up for sale over thy head,-what wouldst thou think of it?

Char. Why-why-why-I must confess, I should think it a piece of great impudence in them.

Penn. Well, then, how canst thou, a Christian, and a Christian prince too, do that which thou so utterly condemnest in these people, whom thou callest savages? Yes, friend Charles:

and suppose, again, that these Indians, on thy refusal to give up thy island of Great Britain, were to make war on thee, and, having weapons more destructive than thine, were to destroy many of thy subjects, and drive the rest away,-wouldst thou not think it horribly cruel?

Char. I must say that I should, friend William : how can I say otherwise?

Penn. Well, then, how can I, who call myself a Christian, do what I should abhor even in heathen? No, I will not do it. But I will buy the right of the proper owners, even of the Indians themselves. By doing this, I shall imitate God himself, in his justice and mercy, and thereby insure his blessing on my colony. if I should ever live to plant one in North America

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRD LESSON.

CAPTAIN HARDY-NATHAN.—Anonymous.

Nathan. Good morning, captain. How do you stand this hot weather?

Captain. Bless you, boy, it's a cold bath to what we had at Monmouth? Did I ever tell you about that-are battle? N. I have always understood that it was dreadful hot that day!

Cap. Bless you, boy, it makes my crutch sweat to think on't -and if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you things about that-are battle, sich as you wouldn't believe, you rogue, if I didn't tell you. It beats all natur how hot it was.

N. I wonder you did not all die of heat and fatigue.

Cap. Why, so we should, if the reg'lars had only died first, but, you see, they never liked the Jarseys, and wouldn't lay their bones there. Now if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you all about that-are business, for you see they don't do things so now-a-days.

N. How so? Do not people die as they used to?

Cap. Bless you, no. It beat all natur to see how long the reg'lars would kick after we killed them.

N. What! kick after they were killed! natur, as you say.

That does beat all

Cap. Come, boy, no splitting hairs with an old continental, for you see, if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you things about that-are battle, that you'd never believe. Why, bless you, when gineral Washington telled us we might give it to 'em, we gin it to em, I tell you.

N. You gave what to them?

Cap. Cold lead, you rogue. Why, bless you, we fired twice to their once, you see; and if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you how we did it. You must know, the reg'lars wore their close-bodied red coats, because they thought we were afeared on 'em, but we did not wear any coats, you see, because we hadn't any.

N. How happened you to be without coats?

Cap. Why, bless you, they would wear out, and the States couldn't buy us any more, you see, and so we marched the lighter, and worked the freer for it. Now if I did not hate long stories, I would tell you what the gineral said to me next day, when I had a touch of the rheumatiz from lying on the field without a blanket all night. You must know, it was raining hard just then, and we were pushing on like all natur arter the reg'lars.

N. What did the gineral say to you?

Cap. Not a syllable, says he, but off comes his coat, and he throws it over my shoulders, "there, captain," says he, "wear that, for we can't spare you yet." Now don't that beat all natur, hey?

N. So you wore the general's coat, did you?

Cap. Lord bless your simple heart, no. I didn't feel sick arter that, I tell you. No, gineral, says I, they can spare me better than they can you, just now, and so I'll take the will for the deed, says I.

N. You will never forget this kindness, captain.

Cap. Not I, boy! I never feel a twinge of the rheumatiz but what I say, God bless the gineral. Now you see, I hate long stories, or I'd tell you how I gin it to a reg'lar that tried t shoot the gineral at Monmouth. You know we were at close quarters, and the gineral was right between the two fires. N. I wonder he was not shot.

Cap. Bless your ignorant soul, nobody could kill the gineral;

but you see, a sneaking reg'lar didn't know this, and so he levelled his musket at him, and you see, I seed what he was arter, and I gin the gineral's horse a slap on the haunches, and it beats all natur how he sprung, and the gineral all the while as straight as a gun-barrel.

N. And you saved the gineral's life.

Cap. Didn't I tell you nobody could kill the gineral? but, you see, his horse was in the rake of my gun, and I wanted to get the start of that cowardly reg'lar.

N. Did you hit him?

Cap. Bless your simple soul, dor the thunder hit where it strikes! though the fellow made ne blink a little, for he car

ried away part of this ear.-See there!

Now don't that beat all natur?

(Showing his ear.)

N. I think it does. But tell me, how is it that you took all these things so calmly? What made you so contented under your privations and hardships?

Cap. Oh, bless your young soul, we got used to it. Besides, you see, the gineral never flinched nor grumbled

N. Yes, but you served without being paid.

Cap. So did the gineral, and the States, you know, were poor as all natur.

N. But you had families to support.

Cap. Ay, ay, but the gineral always told us that God and our country would take care of them, you see. Now, if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you how it turned out just as he said, for he beat all natur for guessing right.

N. Then you feel happy, and satisfied with what you have done for your country, and what she has done for you?

Cap. Why, bless you, if I hadn't left one of my legs at Yorktown, I wouldn't have touched a stiver of the States' money, and as it is, I am so old, that I shall not need it long. You must know, I long to see the gineral again, for if he don't hate long stories as bad as I do, I shall tell him all about America, you see, for it beats all natur how things have changed since he left us