The Massachusetts Spy, And Worcester County Advertiser

"Lo! The Poor Indian." From the official papers which have lately been published, it is greatly to be feared that the present administration, in its measures and conduct towards the aboriginals of the south, will feel power and forget right. The following commentary on the talk lately addressed to them, by their Great Father at Washington, is such as an Indian, who thinks much before he speaks, might well be supposed to make. This poor remnant of a once powerful "sovereignty" have successfully cultivated the arts of peace and civilized life. They have become husbandmen and shepherds—boasting like ourselves, large flocks and herds, and rich fields of waving grain. As a necessary consequence of this improvement in their pursuits, resources, and moral condition, they have become bound to the domestic hearth in the closest ties of affection. They are now, it appears, to be virtually scared away from their home and country, to the end that their present fair possessions may be divided among the people of Georgia, by way of Lottery! These, in a word, are the means, and this the object. Is it consistent with the honor, we will not say the magnanimity, or justice of our country, that such things should be.—Baltimore Patriot.

From the Savannah Mercury.

INDIAN TALK.

At a council of the chiefs, head men, and warriors of the Creek Nation, convened by authority, the talk of the President was communicated by the Agent. After a profound silence of many minutes duration, Speckled Snake, a warrior, whose head was whitened with the frost of more than a hundred winters, and who supported himself on the shoulders of two young men, it is supposed arose, and spoke as follows:——

Brothers! We have heard the talk of our Great Father: it is very kind; he says he loves his red children.

Brothers! I have listened to many talks from our great father. When he first came over the wide waters, he was but a little man, and wore a red coat. Our chiefs met him on the banks of the river Savannah, and smoked with him the pipe of peace He was very little. His legs were cramped by sitting long in his big boat, and he begged for a little land to light his fire on. He said he had come over the wide waters to teach Indians new things, and to make them happy,—he said he loved his red brothers; he was very kind.

The Muscogees gave the white man land, and kindled him a fire, that he might warm himself, and when his enemies, the pale faces of the south, made war on him, their young men drew the tomahawk, and protected his head from the scalping knife.

But when the white man had warmed himself before the Indian's fire, and filled himself with their hominy, he became very large. With a step he bestrode the mountains, and his feet covered the plains and the vallies. His hands grasped the eastern and the western sea, and his head rested on the moon. Then he became our great father. He loved his red children, and he said,

"get a little farther, lest I tread on you."

With one foot he pushed the red man over the Oconee, and with the other he trampled down the graves of his fathers, and the forests where he had so long hunted the deer. But our great father still loved his red children; and he soon made to them another talk; he said "get a little farther, you are too near me."

But there were some bad men among the Muscogees, then, as there are now. They lingered around the graves of their ancestors, till they were crushed beneath the heavy tread of our great father, their teeth pierced his feet and made him angry. Yet he continued to love his red children, and when he found them too slow in moving, he sent his great guns before him to sweep his path.

Brothers! I have listened to a great many talks from our great father. But they always began and ended in this—"get a little farther, you are too near me."

Brothers! Our great father says, "where we now are, our white brothers have always claimed the land." He speaks with a straight tongue, and cannot lie. But when he first came over the wide waters, while he was yet small, and stood before the great chief at the council on Yamacraw Bluff, he said—"give me a little land, which you can spare, and I will pay you for it."

Brothers! When our great father made us a talk, on a former occasion, and said—"get a little farther; go beyond the Oconee, the Ocmulgee there is a pleasant country he also said it shall be yours for ever."

I have listened to his present talk: he says the land where you now live is not yours—go beyond the Mississippi; there is game, and you may remain while the grass grows or the water runs. Brothers, will not our great father come there also? he loves his red children. He speaks with a straight tongue, and will not lie.

Brothers! Our great father says that our bad men have made his heart bleed, for the murder of one of his white children. Yet where are the red children which he loves, once as numerous as the leaves of the forest! how many have been murdered by his warriors; how many have been crushed beneath his own footsteps?

Brothers! Our great father says we must go beyond the Mississippi. We shall there be under his care, and experience his kindness. He is very good. We have felt it all before!

Brothers! I have done.