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Page 170 - There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it : I have killed many : I have fully glutted my vengeance : for my country I rejoice at the beams of peace. But do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear.
Page 170 - Logan, not even sparing my women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have...
Page 296 - To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of Man: And they that creep, and they that fly, Shall end where they began.
Page 135 - Facts on which our Religion is founded, such as the Fall of our first Parents by Eating an Apple, the Coming of Christ to repair the Mischief, his Miracles and Suffering, &c. When he had finished, an Indian Orator stood up to thank him. What you have told us, says he, is all very good.
Page 170 - I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat : if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. During the course of the last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites, that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, 'Logan is the friend of white men.
Page 135 - Having frequent occasions to hold public councils, they have acquired great order and decency in conducting them. The old men sit in the foremost ranks, the warriors in the next, and the women and children in the hindmost.
Page 170 - In the autumn of the same year a decisive battle was fought at the mouth of the Great Kanhaway, between the collected forces of the Shawanese, Mingoes, and Delawares, and a detachment of the Virginia militia. The Indians were defeated, and sued for peace.
Page 68 - Napier was doubtful he would not come. It happened one day as John Marr and the lord Napier were speaking of Mr. Briggs ; ' Ah, John,' said Marchiston, ' Mr. Briggs will not now come.
Page 267 - As those we love decay, we die in part, String after string is sever'd from the heart ; Till loosen'd life at last — but breathing clay, Without one pang, is glad to fall away. Unhappy he who latest feels the blow, Whose eyes have wept o'er every friend laid low, Dragg'd lingering on from partial death to death, Till dying, all he can resign is breath.