Page images
PDF
EPUB

quently, so far as human reason can teach, its capacity is infinite. The infinite capacity of mind is proof of its immortality also, for the elements,— infinity, and immortality and eternity, are inseparable. However, as this phase of the subject is out of the bounds contemplated in the present investigation, its mention will suffice.

The remarks on the first branch of this investigation, and upon the distinction between the instruments of the manifestation of mind, and mind itself, showing the incapacity of the former to minister adequately to the wants and powers of the latter, also indicate the illimitable or infinite power and capacity of mental essence.

With a survey of the evident tastes and longings of the mind, as indicating its immortal nature and infinite power, this subject will close.

Mind loves to dwell on conceptions which simulate the infinitude of immortal topics. In connection with the body, it is known that it cannot conceive of space, duration, or any other element of the universe, in any other way except through the body, either directly or indirectly; consequently, when it attempts to conceive of things as belonging to eternity, it at once finds itself comparing together finite things, and soon discovers its inability to accomplish its desire. Still the desire is the same, and it quickly discovers other means to satisfy itself. It loves to dwell on vagueness,―concep tions of things without knowing their bounds, or rather without the ability to know them—indefiniteness—things which may be seen, heard or felt, in fact or in imagination, but whose beginning or termination it cannot comprehend. Ideas, dimly seen, yet not seized by the mind—and inapplicable are viewed by it with satisfaction, as possibly containing something of unearthly meaning and power.

He who first conceived of the "Music of the Spheres," had a mind just ready to burst asunder the links of mortal bondage and assume its natural and untrammelled properties. Who has not listened with ear intensely bent-presently it catches the low, subdued and almost silent melody, yet ever varying, but constant-so sweet, so perfect, so heavenly, that though the ear is strained to catch its sound, it fills the soul with ecstacy, by the fullness of harmony. Here the mind receives the idea so congenial to its powers and aptitudes, and becomes so enamored, that it hears the melody, but is obliged to refer to imperfect human organs in order to gain the divine conception; and though the human mind is filled to the very fullest of its capacity-the divine mind-the part which overleaps the powers of the human body to convey to it perceptions worthy of its activity-but too well appreciates the fact, that though such conceptions of melody, as could be appropriated by the mind in the body, have been received by it, yet much remains which it cannot appropriate. And here is the beauty of the conception ; not only the sweetness of the harmony, which in imagination the mind may hear, but the conception that but part of the sound has been heard; how surprisingly sweet must that part be which it cannot conceive of!

And, generally those things which are most remote from the sphere of human action, as they unfold themselves to the thought or senses, inspire the mind with emotions of delight. Among such is the starry heavens. The mind expands and finds congenial subject of contemplation in the heavens. at Light. And has it never occurred to any, looking up into the great bottomless blue, and viewing the bright floating stars-some, deep in the far distant void of space, and some in friendly proximity,-has it never occurred to any, why the mind expands and flutters with proud emotions, thus circumstanced? It is because there, in the silence of night, with the

eye drinking in the glories of eternal and infinite existences, it is partially abstracted and separated from the clinging fetters of flesh, and is contemplating its own infinite powers and adaptations for enjoyment! Mind also delights in contemplating the ocean, the wide spread-prairie, the lofty mountain and the great forest. These are vast and magnificent, and congenial to its natural desires. In oratory the mind is best pleased with the eloquence of him who will place vast conceptions before it. It seeks such topics, and is grateful to him who furnishes it such enjoyment.

This all shows that the body is not its fit instrument—is not adequate to its powers.

These suggestions the writer submits on the absolute equality of mind. The subject is one of such vast magnitude, that it is more difficult to show what should be said than to find things to say. The principle of equal mental power is certainly a plausible ground of explanation of what has always been a stumbling-block, considered with reference to the usually received doctrine of variableness in individual mental power, viz. the universal and equal moral accountability of all. And it is in accordance with, and in support of, that great democratic principle-the radical equality of man-a principle which, for the same reason stated above-a belief in the doctrine of a radical difference in mental power,—has been tolerated rather than received, as a demagogical fiction sufficient to found the humbug of a democratic government upon, because such a humbug is preferable, according to experience, to that of a monarchy. If the principles advocated in this essay are true, all such reasoning and belief must fail.

Bellfontaine, O., Nov. 28th, 1848.

TRANSLATION FROM HORACE.

TO SESTIUS.

HARSH Winter relents, sighing Spring glads the earth;
On their rollers our ships seek the waters again;
The herds leave their stables, the ploughman his hearth,
Hoar-frosts print no more their pale tracks on the plain.

Now Venus, at Luna's high noon, leads her choirs:

Hand in hand with the Nymphs, the sweet Three strike the heath,
With footsteps alterne, while the ponderous fires

Of the Cyclops are kindled at Vulcan's hot breath.

Now with myrtle let's fasten our hair's glowing locks,

Or with flow'rets, the first that Spring wakes in the glade;
Now to Faunus let's offer the choice of our flocks,

A lamb or a kid in the woodland's deep shade.

Pale death alike visits the monarch's proud towers
And the lowliest hovel; brief life has no room,

Happy Sestius, for Hope's boundless range. Darkness lowers,
And the wildlings of Fancy that tenant her gloom,

And Pluto's sad dwelling are nigh. There, no more

For the throne of wine's kingdom the dice thou shalt throw,
Now that fair boy admire, whom the maids will adore
Ere long, and for whom manly bosoms now glow.

CAPTAIN DAN HENRIE;

HIS ADVENTURE WITH THE WOLVES.

EVERY body remembers the famous escape of Capt. Dan Henrie at Encarnacion. This reckless and daring ranger has probably passed through a greater number of perilous and singular adventures than any other man of the same age in the service-though one of the most light-hearted mortals that the warm sun ever smiled upon. Yet he has a careless knack of getting into the most desperate scrapes on every possible occasion, and then, of course, he fights his way out again with the most dashing gallantry. Mark you, Dan never got into scrapes with his own people; he was far too kindly and generous for that; but he had a hatred for the "cussed yellow bellies," and “ copper heads," as he called the Mexicans and Indians, which was refreshingly orthodox. His hatred of the Mexicans was amusingly bitter and contemptuous while you listened to him talk of them; but when this hatred came to be expressed in action, it was of the most savage and deadly character. At Encarnacion, when the little band found themselves surrounded by the heavy masses of Minon's cavalry, the proposition, which, we believe, originated with Cassius M. Clay, was made to stand to their arms and fight it out with the Mexicans, to the last gasp, in spite of the disparity of numbers. Lieutenant Dan, who was then guide, seconded this proposition warmly, and went about among the men, urging them "to stand up to the rack," as he called it, representing that they could hope for nothing, but bad faith resulting in cold-blooded massacre if they surrendered to the Mexicans. He reminded them of Goliad, and the Meir surrender, and of his own experience in the last case. After showing, to his own satisfaction, that the resolution of fighting their way through was the only possible chance of safety or honorable death left them, he concluded, with the characteristic piece of savage advice, "shoot low, boys -shoot them through their bellies, so that their groans will frighten their comrades-one groaner is worth half a dozen dummies!"

His perfect knowledge of the Mexican character, as well as his mortal hatred of them, was fully displayed in his advice. Dan knew perfectly that there would be no chance for him, for he had already been recognized as one of the Meir men by several Mexicans, whose faces he remembered well; the surrender, therefore, placed him in a desperate predicament. He knew, perfectly, that whatever faith he might keep with other prisoners, they would keep none with him, although his safety had been provided for in an express stipulation of the terms of surrender. I have never seen the mode of his escape correctly related yet, so that it is worth while to give it in his own version. The Mexicans have a mortal hatred of the Meir prisoners, one and all-but most particularly do they detest those of them who rose at the Salado and escaped from Perote. Dan had, unfortunately, not only been prominent in both these affairs, but from the fact of speaking the language as well as a native, he had always acted as interpreter, and thus been put forward more conspicuously than any one of the other prisoners. Besides this, he had made himself very notorious, too, as a ranger. All these causes combined to make his recognition general and sure at almost any

[blocks in formation]

point on the whole route to Mexico; and even if it had not occurred immediately, there was no telling at what moment it might occur, and of course, when his body might be made the target of their cowardly hate.

He saw those men who had recognised him whispering among themselves, and from his knowledge of the Mexican character, felt sure that so soon as the commanding officers had retired and left them in charge of the guard, he would be shot from the ranks It fortunately occurred, that when they were started, Minon and his staff was moving in the same direction down the lines of the Mexican force. Col. Gaines rode a very swift and beautiful mare. Dan rode up to his side and whispered to him the discoveries he had made, his fears, and his determination. Gaines at once, with a generous promptness, proposed that he should take his mare to make the attempt upon, as her high-blooded mettle would distance any Mexican horse with ease. This was precisely what Dan desired, and he eagerly accepted the offer. The officers had not yet been deprived of their pistols, and the holsters of Gaines remained on the saddle. The mare was very spirited and fiery, and Dan slily roused up all her mettle by touching her with the spur. She began to pitch and plunge, and throw out her heels. This compelled the escort, or rather guard, which rode on either side of the prisoners to open their line occasionally. Dan kept it up for some minntes so as to remove all suspicion, and watched his chance, until he saw the guard were beginning to become careless, and regard those unruly capers rather with amusement than otherwise. Then seeing his way open as they moved slowly through the squadrons of green-coated cavalry, he suddenly reined up the mare in the midst of her capricolings, and plunging the spurs into her, she darted off like an arrow lossened from the bow, while he stooped, laying himself close along her side, after the manner of the Camanche Indians-a shower of balls was fired hurriedly after him, but without effect, as they all passed over him. The plain to the foot of the mountains was very narrow just here; and he had observed, before he made his break, that they were opposite a road which came down a narrow valley. He made for this gap, running the gauntlets between several squadrons of cavalry, before he reached its shelter. Just as he was diving into it, he whirled in his saddle, and amidst the whistling of balls, shook his clenched hand at them, and shouted back his defiance. This sudden escape caused great uproar and confusion among the Mexicans, and several hundred men started at full speed in the pursuit; but the gallant mare soon left them all far enough behind, and she clattered with sparkling hoofs along the deep Before the first two miles had been passed, they were out of sight in the rear. The valley-road, which he had taken at hap-hazard, without the slightest idea of where it led, now opened upon a small plain of tableland, which was occupied by a hacienda of considerable extent. As he swept by in front of the buildings, he saw a number of green-coats hastily mounting their horses, and in another moment heard the clatter of their pursuing horses coming down the road. He looked over his shoulder and saw that it was probably a foraging party of about ten lancers. The first agony was over now, and he felt sure of the game and speed of his mare ; and with his usual audacity, he determined to give the "yaller bellies" something to remember him by before he took his final leave. He accordingly reined up his mare gradually, and let them gain upon him. They thought she was failing, and raised a yell of triumph as they urged their horses to yet greater exertions. He looked behind again, and the officer, with one of his men, was now considerably in the advance, and closing

ravine.

rapidly upon him. He loosened a pistol from the holster. The officer was foremost, and was already shouting to him with many "garacoes," to surrender, when he wheeled suddenly in his saddle and shot him dead. The lancer, who was close behind, and coming on at furious speed, attempting in vain to rein up his horse, but it was too late-he was carried by the impetus of his speed within ten feet of Dan, who had by this time drawn his other pistol, with which he shot him through the head, and then galloped leisurely along, feeling sure that the remainder of his pursuers would be stopped effectually by this bloody barricade he had left across their path. He was not mistaken, for they halted there, and this was the last he saw of their green-coats.

All that day long he kept the noble beast in swift motion, since at every little rancho or village he came to, it would be necessary for the fugitive to make a desperate run for it, before a suit could be organized. The roads were filled, too, with scouting parties of the enemy, and it required all his knowledge of the sort of tactic to enable him to dodge them. He several times very narrowly avoided rushing headlong into the very midst of these advancing parties. The Mexicans are usually very noisy troops, and he would hear them talking on the march in time to dodge to one side and let them pass, for he had no fancy to try the hacienda trick over again with empty pistols, since he had nothing to load them with again. He finally threw them away as so much" make-weight," that was useless to him and embarrassing to his mare. So he hurried on, not daring to pause a moment to rest or obtain food, until the next day, when, in a deep wild gorge among the mountains, his game and gallant mare fell beneath him dead! The ravenous and filthy gapalates, (turkey-buzzards,) were gouging at her fawn-like eyes before they were fairly glazed, and before her stiffened and staggered rider was out of sight. Now came the most terrible part of this wild and remarkable adventure. He was totally without food, except what little he could gather during the day while he was skulking, for he only ventured to travel at night now. This was scarcely enough to keep body and soul together, while his clothes soon became torn to pieces, and hung about his bleeding limbs like broad and tattered ribbons. He, however, still continued making his way steadfastly in the direction of Gen. Wool's camp. At last, some of his scouts picked the poor fellow up when almost speechless with thirst and hunger;-he was yet feebly reeling along like a ghostly and haggard drunkard.

This affair very properly got him his promotion to a captaincy. But strange, perilous, and even wonderful as this escape seems, it is only one of many others quite as remarkable, by which his most eventful life has been checquered. In the Texan war with the Cherokees, which was a very bloody business while it lasted, he passed through scenes as bad, if not worse than this. Then his adventures as a ranger are very remarkable, for of many of these I am myself personally cognizant; and of his cruel sufferings and headlong daring during the Meir imprisonment, all the country has been, to a certain degree, made aware since the publication of Gen. Green's book. He, by the way, was too much of a pompous egotist to do full credit to Dan, or any body else except Gen. Green!

It is one of Dan's curious adventures while a ranger, that I propose to relate now. I shall endeavor to give it as nearly as I can remember, in his own way, as he related it to me; though I must confess, it will be very difficult, if not impossible, to preserve the raciness of his rattle-pate and peculiar manner. It was before he joined the Meir expedition, and while yet with the rangers, under the command of McCullough.

« PreviousContinue »