SCAFFOLD ELOQUENCE.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume XI, Issue 52, 23 February 1876, Page 2

SCAFFOLD ELOQUENCE.

BT THE KBV. CHARI.SJS HAVLB. We have perused, with. more or less edifi *atiob, all the speeches made hy "the Modoc murderers previous to tbeir executiou in America, and we find in only one of them anything like the usual expression of religious confiler-cp in the future state. Old Schoncbio did say — unless this was put into his mouth by the interpreter — " I will po io meet my Father in tbe Spirit Land." To be sure, it is impossible to tell what the venerable Schonchin meant by the Spirit Land. He may bave bad in his mind a land of ardent spirits; he may have had in his mind some notion of a happy hunting - ground where hie " faithful dog would bear him company;" but our opinion, from the whole tenor of his autoobituary, is that he had a crude and confused idea of going somewhere where there were no white folks. There never was an able and enrnest preacher yet wbo did not warn bis flock against the danger of trusting to a death-bed repenlanoe; and we never could see that it made much difference in the greatness of the peril whether a man died reputably between his sheets or disreputably in bis shoes. Properly or improperly, these savages were hung much like dogs with too lively a love of mutton. Only Jim the Sable, in quite a business way, said: "If we are to die, I think we should make some arrangements for our spirits iu tbe other world, aod I would like to hear the spirit man talk." Jim evidently regarded thn chaplain as a sort of heavenly agent, of whom it would be prudent to procure a through ticket. Do we speak somewhat lightly of a most serious matter? If eo, it is certainly in no lightness of spirit. But when we consider all things — the cheatery practised by the Americans in their dealings with the savages; the utter lack of spiritual culture in these hanged men; the probable feelings of those who haDged them; all the circumstances of the disgusting, however necessary, scene —we cannot with much equanimity read these formal professions put into dying wretches' mouths of a hope which they could not possibly comprehend, and mnch less feel. The goodness of God is infinite, and we know that His mercy eodureth for ever. In the divine economy, rot even these low, animal, frontier lives were wasted. These creatures, too, have gone to the place prepared for them. As they have thus gone, no more to lie or to be lied abo'it, no more to murder or to be murdered, no more to bother the Secretary of War, the Indian Department, and the Yearly Meeting of Friends, we see little good in trying to cast a glamour of spurious theological piety over their exit. What we who are still living most especially and sorely need is to get rid of all manner of pretence and hypocrisy, of fulsehood to others and ourselves, in our dealings with cur fellowcreatures. The Red Man, for nearly three centuries, has been a hollow and howling humbug, the source of infinite insincerities nnd of endless and empty palaver. Our soul sinks within us at the recollection of the unmitigated nonsense, the pretty theatrical talk, the romantic delusions, for which Cooper's novels and false interpreters aro mainly responsible. Smiting the Indian with one hand, tbe Americans have petted him with the other. Always ready to shoot him at tbe shortest notice aud upon the smallest provocation, they have supplied him equally with rum and religion, gunpowder aud Gospel ; and while talking to him of eternal truth, they have lied to him, and have constantly tempted him to lie to them, They have kept up a series of hollow fictions, aod relied upon the policy of phrases. We trust that, some time, there will be an end of the tinkling and worm-eaten vocabulary of Indian treaties; — of the talk about the Great Father, whether that means the Almighty or the President; about the Happy Hunting Grounds and tbe Faithful Dog; — an end of all this prating reminiscence of Gertrude of Wyoming, the Pioneer, aud Hiawatha! What iB the use of representing a Redskin, who is usually ready to shoot and scalp, if not eat you, as a low-spirited and amiable minstrel, plaintively singing, "O, why does the White Man follow my path?" In all dealings with theso troublesome relics of the past era, we are for justice, honesty, and kindness; but we are likewise for common sense, and utterly opposed to atl further dramatic tomfoolery.