Behold, O Lord! the heathen tread
The branches of thy fruitful vine,
That its luxurious tendrils spread
O'er all the hills of Palestine.
And now the wild boar comes to waste
Even us, the greenest boughs and last.
That, drinking of its choicest dew,
On Zion's hill in beauty grew.
--MILMAN.
The change in Peter had been gradually making itself apparent, ever
since he joined the party of the bee-hunter. When he entered the
Kalamazoo, in the company of the two men who had now fallen the victims
of his own designs, his heart was full of the fell intention of cutting
off the whole white race. Margery had first induced him to think of
exceptions. He had early half-decided that she should be spared, to be
carried to his own lodge, as an adopted daughter. When he became aware
of the state of things between his favorite and her lover, there was a
severe struggle in his breast on the subject of sparing the last. He
saw how strongly the girl was attached to him, and something like human
sentiments forced their way among his savage plans. The mysterious
communication of le Bourdon with the bees, however, had far more
influence in determining him to spare so great a medicine-man, than
Margery's claims; and he had endeavored to avail himself of a marriage
as a means of saving the bride, instead of saving the bridegroom.
All the Indians entertained a species of awe for le Bourdon, and all
hesitated about laying hands on one who appeared so gifted. It was,
therefore, the expectation of this extraordinary being that the wife
might be permitted to escape with the husband. The effect of The
Weasel's cunning has been described. Such was the state of Peter's mind
when he met the band in the scenes last described. There he had been all
attention to the demeanor of the missionary. A hundred times had he seen
warriors die uttering maledictions on their enemies; but this was the
first occasion on which he had ever known a man to use his latest breath
in asking for blessings on those “who persecuted him.” At first, Peter
was astounded. Then the sublime principles had their effect, and his
heart was deeply touched with what he heard. How far the Holy Spirit
aided these better feelings, it might be presumptuous, on the one hand,
to say; while, on the other, it will be equally presuming to think of
denying the possibility--nay, the probability--that the great change
which so suddenly came over the heart of Peter was produced by more than
mere human agencies. We know that this blessed Spirit is often poured
out, in especial cases, with affluent benevolence, and there can be no
sufficient reason for supposing this savage might not have been thus
signally favored, as soon as the avenues of his heart opened to the
impulses of a generous humanity. The very qualities that would induce
such a being to attempt the wild and visionary scheme of vengeance and
retribution, that had now occupied his sleeping and waking thoughts for
years, might, under a better direction, render him eminently fit to be
the subject of divine grace. A latent sense of right lay behind all his
seeming barbarity, and that which to us appears as a fell ferocity, was,
in his own eyes, no less than a severe justice.
The words, the principles, the prayers, and, more than all, the EXAMPLE
of the missionary, wrought this great change, so far as human agencies
were employed; but the power of God was necessary to carry out and
complete this renewal of the inner man. We do not mean that a miracle
was used in the sudden conversion of this Indian to better feelings, for
that which is of hourly occurrence, and which may happen to all, comes
within the ordinary workings of a Divine Providence, and cannot thus be
designated with propriety; but we do wish to be understood as saying,
that no purely human power could have cleared the moral vision, changed
all the views, and softened the heart of such a man, as was so promptly
done in the case of Peter. The way had been gradually preparing,
perhaps, by the means already described, but the great transformation
came so suddenly and so powerfully as to render him a different being,
as it might almost be, in the twinkling of an eye! Such changes often
occur, and though it may suit the self-sufficiency of the worldling
to deride them, he is the wisest who submits in the meekest spirit to
powers that exceed his comprehension.
In this state of mind, then, Peter left the band as soon as the fate of
the missionary was decided. His immediate object was to save the
whites who remained, Gershom and Dorothy now having a place in his
good intentions, as well as le Bourdon and Margery. Although he moved
swiftly, and nearly by an air-line, his thoughts scarce kept company
with his feet. During that rapid walk, he was haunted with the image of
a man, dying while he pronounced benedictions on his enemies!
There was little in common between the natural objects of that placid
and rural scene and the fell passions that were so actively at work
among the savages. The whole of the landscape was bathed in the light
of a clear, warm summer's day. These are the times when the earth truly
seems a sanctuary, in spots remote from the haunts of men, and least
exposed to his abuses. The bees hum around the flowers, the birds carol
on the boughs and from amid their leafy arbors, while even the leaping
and shining waters appear to be instinct with the life that extols the
glory of God.
As for the family near the palisaded hut, happiness had not, for many
a month, been so seated among them, as on this very occasion. Dorothy
sympathized truly in the feelings of the youthful and charming bride,
while Gershom had many of the kind and affectionate wishes of a brother
in her behalf. The last was in his best attire, as indeed were the
females, who were neatly though modestly clad, and Gershom had that air
of decent repose and of quiet enjoyment, which is so common of a Sabbath
with the men of his class, among the people from whom he sprung. The
fears lately excited were momentarily forgotten. Everything around them
wore an air so placid; the vault above them was so profoundly tranquil;
the light of day was so soft and yet so bright; the Openings seemed so
rural and so much like pictures of civilization, that apprehension had
been entirely forgotten in present enjoyment. Such was the moment when
Peter suddenly stood before le Bourdon and Margery, as the young couple
sat beneath the shade of the oaks, near the spring. One instant the
Indian regarded this picture of young wedded life with a gleam of
pleasure on his dark face; then he announced his presence by speaking.
“Can't sit here lookin' at young squaw,” said this literal being.
“Get up, and put thing in canoe. Time come to go on path dat lead to
pale-face country.”
“What has happened, Peter?” demanded the bee-hunter, springing to his
feet. “You come like a runner rushing in with his bad tidings. Has
anything happened to give an alarm?”
“Up, and off, tell you. No use talkin' now. Put all he can in canoe,
and paddle away fast as can.” There was no mistaking Peter's manner. The
bee-hunter saw the uselessness of questioning such a man, at a time like
that, and he called to Gershom to join him.
“Here is the chief, to warn us to move,” said the bee-hunter,
endeavoring to appear calm, in order that he might not needlessly alarm
the females, “and what he advises, we had better do. I know there is
danger, by what has fallen from Pigeonswing as well as from himself; so
let us lose no time, but stow the canoes, and do as he tells us.”
As Gershom assented, it was not two minutes ere all were at work. For
several days, each canoe had been furnished with provisions for a hasty
flight. It remained only to add such of the effects as were too valuable
and necessary to be abandoned, and which had not been previously exposed
without the palisades. For half an hour le Bourdon and Gershom worked
as for life. No questions were asked, nor was a single moment lost, in
a desire to learn more. The manner in which Peter bore himself satisfied
Boden that the emergency was pressing, and it is seldom that more was
done by so few hands in so short a period. Fortunately, the previous
preparation greatly aided the present object, and nearly everything of
any value was placed in the canoes within the brief space mentioned. It
then became necessary to decide concerning the condition in which Castle
Meal was to be left. Peter advised closing every aperture, shutting
the gate, and leaving the dog within. There is no doubt that these
expedients prevented the parties falling early into the hands of their
enemies; for the time lost by the savages in making their approaches to
the hut was very precious to the fugitives.
Just as the canoes were loaded, Pigeonswing came in. He announced that
the whole band was in motion, and might be expected to reach the grove
in ten minutes. Placing an arm around the slender waist of Margery, le
Bourdon almost carried her to his own canoe, Gershom soon had Dorothy in
his little bark, while Peter entered that to the ownership of which he
may be said to have justly succeeded by the deaths of the corporal and
the missionary. Pigeonswing remained behind, in order to act as a scout,
having first communicated to Peter the course the last ought to steer.
Before the Chippewa plunged into the cover in which it was his intention
to conceal himself, he made a sign that the band was already in sight.
The heart of le Bourdon sunk within him, when he learned how near were
the enemy. To him, escape seemed impossible; and he now regretted having
abandoned the defences of his late residence. The river was sluggish for
more than a mile at that spot, and then occurred a rift, which could
not be passed without partly unloading the canoes, and where there must
necessarily be a detention of more than an hour. Thus, it was scarcely
possible for canoes descending that stream to escape from so large a
band of pursuers. The sinuosities, themselves, would enable the last
to gain fifty points ahead of them, where ambushes, or even open
resistance, must place them altogether at the mercy of the savages.
Peter knew all this, as well as the bee-hunter, and he had no intention
of trusting his new friends in a flight down the river. Pigeonswing,
with the sententious brevity of an Indian, had made an important
communication to him, while they were moving, for the last time, toward
the canoes, and he now determined to profit by it. Taking the lead,
therefore, with his own canoe, Peter paddled UP, instead of DOWN the
stream, going in a direction opposite to that which it would naturally
be supposed the fugitives had taken. In doing this, also, he kept
close under the bank which would most conceal the canoes from those who
approached it on its southern side.
It will be remembered that the trees for the palisades had been cut from
a swamp, a short distance above the bee-hunter's residence. They had
grown on the margin of the river, which had been found serviceable in
floating the logs to their point of destination. The tops of many of
these trees, resinuous, and suited by their nature to preserve their
leaves for a considerable time, lay partly in the stream and partly on
its banks; and Pigeonswing, foreseeing the necessity of having a place
of refuge, had made so artful a disposition of several of them, that,
while they preserved all the appearance of still lying where they had
fallen, it was possible to haul canoes up beneath them, between the
branches and the bank, in a way to form a place of perfect concealment.
No Indian would have trusted to such a hiding-place, had it not been
matter of notoriety that the trees had been felled for a particular
purpose, or had their accidental disposition along the bank been
discernibly deranged. But such was not the case, the hand of Pigeonswing
having been so skilfully employed that what he had done could not
be detected. He might be said to have assisted nature, instead of
disturbing her.
The canoes were actually paddling close under the bank, in the Castle
Meal reach of the river, when the band arrived at the grove, and
commenced what might be called the investment of the place. Had not all
the attention of the savages been drawn toward the hut, it is probable
that some wandering eye might have caught a glimpse of some one of them,
as inequalities in the bank momentarily exposed each, in succession,
to view. This danger, however, passed away, and by turning a point,
the fugitives were effectually concealed from all who did not actually
approach the river at that particular point. Here it was, however, that
the swamp commenced, and the ground being wet and difficult, no one
would be likely to do this. The stream flowed through this swamp, having
a dense wood on each side, though one of no great extent. The reach,
moreover, was short, making a completely sheltered haven of the
Kalamazoo, within its limits.
Once in this wooded reach, Peter tossed an arm, and assumed an air of
greater security. He felt infinitely relieved, and knew that they were
safe, for a time, unless some wanderer should have taken to the swamp--a
most improbable thing of itself. When high enough, he led the way across
the stream, and entering below, he soon had all the canoes in their
place of concealment.
“Dis good place,” observed the great chief, as soon as all were fast;
“bess take care, dough. Bess not make track too much on land; Injin got
sharp eye, and see ebbery t'ing. Now, I go and talk wid chief. Come back
by-'em-by. You stay here. Good-bye.”
“Stop, Peter--one word before we part. If you see Parson Amen, or the
corporal, it might be well to tell THEM where we are to be found. They
would be glad to know.”
Peter looked grave; even sad. He did not answer for fully a minute. When
he did, it was in a low, suppressed voice, such as one is apt to use
when there is a weight felt on his mind.
“Nebber know any t'ing ag'in,” returned the chief. “Both dem pale-face
dead.”
“Dead!” echoed all within hearing.
“Juss so; Injin kill him. Mean to kill you, too--dat why I run away.
Saw medicine-priest die. What you t'ink, Blossom?--What you t'ink,
Bourdon?--Dat man die asking Great Spirit to do good to Injin!”
“I can believe it, Peter, for he was a good man, and such are our
Christian laws, though few of us obey them. I can easily believe that
Parson Amen was an exception, however.”
“Yes, Peter, such are our Christian laws,” put in Margery, earnestly.
“When Christ, the Son of God, came on earth to redeem lost men, he
commanded his followers to do good to them that did evil to us, and to
pray for them that tried to harm us. We have his very words, written in
our bibles.”
“You got him?” said Peter, with interest. “See you read him, of'en. Got
dat book here?”
“To be sure I have--it is the last thing I should have forgotten. Dolly
has one, and I have another; we read in them every day, and we hope
that, before long, brother and Bourdon will read in them, too.”
“Why, I'm no great scholar, Margery,” returned her husband, scratching
his full, curling head of hair, out of pure awkwardness; “to please YOU,
however, I'd undertake even a harder job. It was so with the bees, when
I began; I thought I should never succeed in lining the first bee to his
hive; but, since that time, I think I've lined a thousand!”
“It's easy, it's easy, dear Benjamin, if you will only make a
beginning,” returned the much interested young wife. “When we get to a
place of safety, if it be God's will that we ever shall, I hope to have
you join me in reading the good book, daily. See, Peter, I keep it in
this little bag, where it is safe, and always at hand.”
“You read dem word for me, Blossom: I want to hear him, out of dis book,
himself.”
Margery did as he desired. She was very familiar with the New Testament,
and, turning to the well-known and God-like passage, she read several
verses, in a steady, earnest voice. Perhaps the danger they were in,
and the recent communication of the death of their late companions,
increased her earnestness and solemnity of manner, for the effect
produced on Peter was scarcely less than that he had felt when he
witnessed a practical obedience to these sublime principles, in the
death of the missionary. Tears actually started to this stern savage's
eyes, and he looked back on his late projects and endeavors to immolate
a whole race with a shudder. Taking Margery's hand, he courteously
thanked her, and prepared to quit the place. Previously to leaving
his friends, however, Peter gave a brief account of the manner of the
missionary's death, and of the state in which he had left the corporal.
Pigeonswing had told him of the fate of the last, as well as of the
eagerness with which the band had set out in quest of more white scalps.
“Peter, we can count on you for a friend, I hope?” said the bee-hunter,
as the two were about to part, on the bank of the river. “I fear you
were, once, our enemy!”
“Bourdon,” said Peter, with dignity, and speaking in the language of his
own people, “listen. There are Good Spirits, and there are Bad Spirits.
Our traditions tell us this. Our own minds tell us this, too. For twenty
winters a Bad Spirit has been whispering in my ear. I listened to
him; and did what he told me to do. I believed what he said. His words
were--'Kill your enemies--scalp all the pale-faces--do not leave a
squaw, or a pappoose. Make all their hearts heavy. This is what an Injin
should do.' So has the Bad Spirit been whispering to me, for twenty
winters. I listened to him. What he said, I did. It was pleasant to me
to take the scalps of the pale-faces. It was pleasant to think that no
more scalps would be left among them, to take. I was Scalping Peter.
“Bourdon, the Good Spirit has, at last, made himself heard. His whisper
is so low, that at first my ears did not hear him. They hear him now.
When he spoke loudest, it was with the tongue of the medicine-priest of
your people. He was about to die. When we are about to die, our voices
become strong and clear. So do our eyes. We see what is before, and we
see what is behind. We feel joy for what is before--we feel sorrow for
what is behind. Your medicine-priest spoke well. It sounded in my ears
as if the Great Spirit, himself, was talking. They say it was his Son.
I believe them. Blossom has read to me out of the good book of your
people, and I find it is so. I feel like a child, and could sit down, in
my wigwam, and weep.
“Bourdon, you are a pale-face, and I am an Injin. You are strong, and
I am weak. This is because the Son of the Great Spirit has talked with
your people, and has not talked with mine. I now see why the pale-faces
overrun the earth and take the hunting-grounds. They know most, and have
been told to come here, and to tell what they know to the poor ignorant
Injins. I hope my people will listen. What the Son of the Great Spirit
says must be true. He does not know how to do wrong.
“Bourdon, once it seemed sweet to me to take the scalps of my enemies.
When an Injin did me harm, I took his scalp. This was my way. I could
not help it, then. The Wicked Spirit told me to do this. The Son of the
Manitou has now told me better. I have lived under a cloud. The breath
of the dying medicine-priest of your people has blown away that cloud.
I see clearer. I hear him telling the Manitou to do me good, though
I wanted his scalp. He was answered in my heart. Then my ears opened
wider, and I heard what the Good Spirit whispered. The ear in which the
Bad Spirit had been talking for twenty winters shut, and was deaf. I
hear him no more. I do not want to hear him again. The whisper of the
Son of the Manitou is very pleasant to me. It sounds like the wren
singing his sweetest song. I hope he will always whisper so. My ear
shall never again be shut to his words.
“Bourdon, it is pleasant to me to look forward. It is not pleasant to me
to look back. I see how many things I have done in one way, that ought
to have been done in another way. I feel sorry, and wish it had not been
so. Then I hear the Son of the Manitou asking His Father, who liveth
above the clouds, to do good to the Jews who took his life. I do not
think Injins are Jews. In this, my brother was wrong. It was his own
notion, and it is easy for a man to think wrong. It is not so with the
Son of the Manitou. He thinketh always as His Father thinketh, which is
right.
“Bourdon, I am no longer Peter--I must be another Injin. I do not feel
the same. A scalp is a terrible thing in my eyes--I wish never to take
another--never to see another--a scalp is a bad thing. I now LOVE the
Yankees. I wish to do them good, and not to do them harm. I love
most the Great Spirit, that let his own Son die for all men. The
medicine-priest said he died for Injins, as well as for pale-faces. This
we did not know, or we should have talked of him more in our traditions.
We love to talk of good acts. But we are such ignorant Injins! The Son
of the Manitou will have pity on us, and tell us oftener what we ought
to do. In time, we shall learn. Now, I feel like a child: I hope I shall
one day be a man.”
Having made this “confession of faith,” one that would have done credit
to a Christian church, Peter shook the bee-hunter kindly by the hand,
and took his departure. He did not walk into the swamp, though it was
practicable with sufficient care, but he stepped into the river, and
followed its margin, knowing that “water leaves no trail.” Nor did Peter
follow the direct route toward the now blazing hut, the smoke from
which was rising high above the trees, but he ascended the stream, until
reaching a favorable spot, he threw aside all of his light dress, made
it into a bundle, and swam across the Kalamazoo, holding his clothes
above the element with one hand. On reaching the opposite shore, he
moved on to the upper margin of the swamp, where he resumed his clothes.
Then he issued into the Openings, carrying neither rifle, bow, tomahawk,
nor knife. All his weapons he had left in his canoe, fearful that they
might tempt him to do evil, instead of good, to his enemies. Neither
Bear's Meat, nor Bough of the Oak, was yet regarded by Peter with the
eye of love. He tried not to hate them, and this he found sufficiently
difficult; conscious of this difficulty, he had laid aside his arms,
accordingly. This mighty change had been gradually in progress, ever
since the chief's close communication with Margery, but it had received
its consummation in the last acts, and last words, of the missionary!
Having got out into the Openings, it was not difficult for Peter to join
his late companions without attracting observation from whence he came.
He kept as much under cover as was convenient, and reached the kitchen,
just as the band broke into the defences, and burst open the door of the
blazing and already roofless hut. Here Peter paused, unwilling to
seem inactive in such a scene, yet averse to doing anything that a
sensitively tender conscience might tell him was wrong. He knew there
was no human being there to save, and cared little for the few effects
that might be destroyed. He did not join the crowd, therefore, until it
was ascertained that the bee-hunter and his companions had escaped.
“The pale-faces have fled,” said Bear's Meat to the great chief, when
the last did approach him. “We have looked for their bones among the
ashes, but there are none. That medicine-bee-hunter has told them that
their scalps were wanted, and they have gone off!”
“Have any of the young men been down to the river, to look for their
canoes?” quietly demanded Peter. “If the canoes are gone, too, they have
taken the route toward the Great Lake.”
This was so obvious and probable, that a search was immediately set on
foot. The report was soon made, and great was the eagerness to pursue.
The Kalamazoo was so crooked, that no one there doubted of overtaking
the fugitives, and parties were immediately organized for the chase.
This was done with the customary intelligence and shrewdness of Indians.
The canoes that belonged to Crowsfeather and his band had been brought
up the river, and they lay concealed in rushes, not a mile from the hut.
A party of warriors brought them to the landing, and they carried one
division of the party to the opposite shore, it being the plan to follow
each bank of the river, keeping close to the stream, even to its mouth,
should it prove necessary. Two other parties were sent in direct lines,
one on each side of the river, also, to lay in ambush at such distant
points, ahead, as would be almost certain to anticipate the arrival of
the fugitives. The canoes were sent down the stream, to close the net
against return, while Bear's Meat, Bough of the Oak, Crowsfeather, and
several others of the leading chiefs, remained near the still burning
hut, with a strong party, to examine the surrounding Openings for
foot-prints and trails. It was possible that the canoes had been sent
adrift, in order to mislead them, while the pale-faces had fled by land.
It has been stated that the Openings had a beautiful sward, near Castle
Meal, This was true of that particular spot, and was the reason why
le Bourdon had selected it for his principal place of residence. The
abundance of flowers drew the bees there, a reason of itself why he
should like the vicinity. Lest the reader should be misled, however,
it may be well to explain that an absence of sward is characteristic of
these Openings, rather than the reverse, it being, to a certain degree,
a cause of complaint, now that the country is settled, that the lands of
the Oak Openings are apt to be so light that the grasses do not readily
form as firm a turf as is desirable for meadows and pastures. We
apprehend this is true, however, less as a rule than as exceptions;
there being variety in the soils of these Openings, as well as in other
quarters.
Nevertheless, the savages were aware that the country around the burned
hut, for a considerable extent, differed, in this particular, from most
of that which lay farther east, or more inland. On the last a trail
would be much more easily detected than on the first, and a party,
under the direction of a particularly experienced leader, was dispatched
several miles to the eastward, to look for the usual signs of the
passage of any toward Detroit, taking that route. This last expedient
troubled Peter exceedingly, since it placed a body of enemies in the
rear of the fugitives; thereby rendering their position doubly perilous.
There was no help for the difficulty, however; and the great chief saw
the party depart without venturing on remonstrance, advice, or any
other expedient to arrest the movement. Bear's Meat now called the head
chiefs, who remained, into a circle, and asked for opinions concerning
the course that ought next to be taken.
“What does my brother, the tribeless chief, say?” he asked, looking at
Peter, in a way to denote the expectation which all felt, that he ought
to be able to give useful counsel in such a strait. “We have got but
two scalps from six heads; and one of THEM is buried with the
medicine-priest.”
“Scalps cannot be taken from them that get off,” returned Peter,
evasively. “We must first catch these pale-faces. When they are found
it will be easy to scalp them. If the canoes are gone, I think the
medicine-bee-hunter and his squaws have gone in them. We may find the
whole down the river.”
To this opinion most of the chiefs assented, though the course of
examining for a trail farther east was still approved. The band was so
strong, while the pale-faces were so few, that a distribution of their
own force was of no consequence, and it was clearly the most prudent to
send out young men in all directions. Every one, however, expected that
the fugitives would be overtaken on, or near, the river, and Bear's Meat
suggested the propriety of their moving down stream, themselves, very
shortly.
“When did my brother last see the pale-faces?” asked Crowsfeather. “This
bee-hunter knows the river well, and may have started yesterday; or even
after he came from the Great Council of the Prairie.”
This was a new idea, but one that seemed probable enough. All eyes
turned toward Peter, who saw, at once, that such a notion must greatly
favor the security of the fugitives, and felt a strong desire to
encourage it. He found evasion difficult, however, and well knew the
danger of committing himself. Instead of giving a straightforward
answer, therefore, he had recourse to circumlocution and subterfuge.
“My brother is right,” he answered. “The pale-faces HAVE had time to
get far down the stream. As my brothers know, I slept among them at the
Round Prairie. To-day, they know I was with them at the council of the
spring of gushing waters.”
All this was true, as far as it went, although the omissions were very
material. No one seemed to suspect the great chief, whose fidelity
to his own principles was believed to be of a character amounting to
enthusiasm. Little did any there know of the power of the unseen Spirit
of God to alter the heart, producing what religionists term the new
birth. We do not wish, however, to be understood that Peter had, as
yet, fully experienced this vast change. It is not often the work of a
moment, though well-authenticated modern instances do exist, in which we
have every reason to believe that men have been made to see and feel
the truth almost as miraculously as was St. Paul himself. As for this
extraordinary savage, he had entered into the strait and narrow way,
though he was not far advanced on its difficult path.
When men tell us of the great progress that the race is making toward
perfection, and point to the acts which denote its wisdom, its power to
control its own affairs, its tendencies toward good when most left
to its own self-control, our minds are filled with scepticism. The
every-day experience of a life now fast verging toward threescore,
contradicts the theory and the facts. We believe not in the possibility
of man's becoming even a strictly rational being, unaided by a power
from on high; and all that we have seen and read goes to convince us
that HE is most of a philosopher, the most accurate judge of his real
state, the most truly learned, who most vividly sees the necessity of
falling back on the precepts of revelation for all his higher principles
and practice. We conceive that this mighty truth furnishes unanswerable
proof of the unceasing agency of a Providence, and when we once admit
this, we concede that our own powers are insufficient for our own wants.
That the world, as a whole, is advancing toward a better state of
things, we as firmly believe as we do that it is by ways that have not
been foreseen by man; and that, whenever the last has been made the
agent of producing portions of this improvement, it has oftener been
without design, or calculation, than with it. Who, for instance,
supposes that the institutions of this country, of which we boast so
much, could have stood as long as they have, without the conservative
principles that are to be found in the Union; and who is there so vain
as to ascribe the overshadowing influence of this last great power to
any wisdom in man? We all know that perfectly fortuitous circumstances,
or what appear to us to be such, produced the Federal Government, and
that its strongest and least exceptionable features are precisely those
which could not be withstood, much less invented, as parts of the theory
of a polity.
A great and spasmodic political movement is, at this moment, convulsing
Christendom. That good will come of it, we think is beyond a question;
but we greatly doubt whether it will come in the particular form, or by
the specified agencies, that human calculations would lead us to expect.
It must be admitted that the previous preparations, which have induced
the present effort, are rather in opposition to, than the consequences
of, calculated agencies; overturning in their progress the very
safeguards which the sagacity of men had interposed to the advance of
those very opinions that have been silently, and by means that would
perhaps baffle inquiry, preparing the way for the results that have been
so suddenly and unexpectedly obtained. If the course is onward, it is
more as the will of God, than from any calculations of man; and it is
when the last are the most active, that there is the greatest reason to
apprehend the consequences.
Of such a dispensation of the Providence of Almighty God, do we believe
Peter to have been the subject. Among the thousand ways that are
employed to touch the heart, he had been most affected by the sight of
a dying man's asking benedictions on his enemies! It was assailing his
besetting sin; attacking the very citadel of his savage character, and
throwing open, at once, an approach into the deepest recesses of his
habits and dispositions. It was like placing a master-key in the hands
of him who would go through the whole tenement, for the purpose of
purifying it.