THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 247 



in the case of the inhabitants of New Holland, as they were De- 

 scribed by those who first visited the island. And what a contrast 

 is visible between their character and that of the North American 

 Indians, vanquishing the feeling of pain in their breasts by the 

 strength of their unconquerable wills ; " The Stoics of the wood, 

 the men without a tear." 



" 'Let us picture to our mind's eye a pampered Sybarite, nursed 

 in all the wantonness of high-fed luxury, dallying on a downy sofa, 

 amid all the gorgeousness of ornamental tapestry, listening to the 

 soft sounds of sweetest music playing in his ears ; his eyes satiated 

 with pleasure in contemplating the enchanting pictures that decorate 

 the walls, and the beautiful statues which in pleasing variety fill up 

 the distant vistas of his palace ; whose rest would be broken, whose 

 happiness would be spoiled, by the doubling of the highly scented 

 rose-leaf that lies beneath him on his silken couch. Let us by the 

 mngic power of imagination transport this man to the gloomy depths 

 of an American forest, where the dazzling glare of a bright fire in- 

 stantly meets his eye. If he does not forthwith ignominiously expire 

 at the first view, suppose him to survey the characters who compose 

 or fill up the busy scene around it. The barbarous savages of one 

 tribe have taken captive the chief of another engaged in deadly hos- 

 tilities with them. They have not impaled him alive. That Avould 

 be to consign him too speedily to unhearing death. But they have 

 tied him fast with bands made of the long and lithe forest grass, 

 which yields not quickly to the fire. They have placed him beside 

 the pile which they kindle with fiendish satisfaction, and feed with 

 cautious hand, well knowing the point or pitch to raise it to, which 

 tortures but not speedily consumes. They have exhausted all their 

 energy in uttering a most diabolical yell, on witnessing their victim 

 first feel the horrid proofs of their resentment, and now, seated on 

 the grass around, they look on in silence. The chief stands firm with 

 unflinching nerve ; his long eye-lashes are scorched off, but his proud 

 eye disdains to wink ; his dark raven locks have all perished, but 

 there is not a wrinkle seen on his forehead. From the crown of his 

 head to the sole of his foot his skin is one continued blister, but the 

 courage of his soul remains unshaken, and quails not before the tor- 

 menting pain. The Sybarite has expired at the mere sight ; his 

 craven heart has ceased to beat. The Indian hero stands firm. 

 There is even a smile on his sadly marred cheek, and it is not the 



