do not see that it is differenced toto genere from every other moral scheme, are but skimming the surface of Christian truth; they have not sounded its depths. Such a presentation of the "Ethics of Christianity " as is made, for instance, by Mr. Haweis in his "Thoughts for the Times," reminds one of the chapters on Hegel or Spinoza in certain histories of philosophy that might be named, and betrays underneath a like appearance of comprehensive grasp, a similar blindness to the inmost of his subject, and a similar inadequacy to his task.

Here we must pause for the present, and leave the conclusion of our subject to a following paper.

THE LIFE AND TIMES OF PHILIP SCHUYLER. By Benson J. Lossing, LL.D. New York: Sheldon & Co. Two vols. pp. 504 and 548.

THE

HE history of the United States is largely indebted to the labors of Dr. Lossing. And the volumes before us are not the least important of his contributions. Indeed, for reasons which will appear in the sequel, whoever reads them will find himself making a very satisfactory acquaintance with two of the most stirring portions of our national story,-the colonial wars with France, and the war of the Revolution; and with just those portions of these wars around which the most romantic interest gathers, and on which results of the last importance depended.

The name of Schuyler was early and honorably associated with our annals. Major Peter Schuyler, the grand-uncle of General Philip Schuyler, and son of the Holland emigrant who brought the name to this country, was prominent and active in the province of New York from the time of the incorporation of the good city of Albany, in 1683, until his death.

Just at the time when he entered on public life, the question, which had long been looming in the future, whether France or England was to hold and mould the northern American continent, was taking shape for a final decision. From the time when European settlement began in North America, things had been drifting

toward this issue. Spanish, Swedish, Dutch colonization had each acquired some foothold, and each had failed to maintain it for permanence of power. And so, when the New Netherlands passed into an appanage of the British crown, and New Amsterdam became New York, and Fort Orange and Beverwick became Albany (thus dividing the ducal title of him who was afterward James II.), the two great powers of Europe stood face to face on the shores and amidst the forests of this land of ours. The actual crisis came in 1690. The abdication of James, and the accession of William and Mary, as they brought France and England into the shock of war in Europe, so they brought them into final collision, as colonial powers, in North America.

A period of seventy years was to be gone through before the question thus raised would be decided. Things hung in the balance from 1690, when the old French wars began, till 1760, when Canada, and, with Canada, French domination in North America, fell before the cross of St. George. Mighty issues for the world's future were involved in that long struggle. Nor can any man read aright the history of the United States unless he understands them. When understood, they give the lie to that piece of silly "spread-eagleism," which loves to say that this country sprang into existence as Minerva came, full armed, from the head of Jupiter.

It is a curious spectacle which presents itself to the mind of one who, looking at a map of North America, tries to think just what there would have been on it in 1690.

Beginning at a point not very far to the east of Boston, he sees a line of English settlements sweeping along the Atlantic seaboard, and stretching on, with many breaks and intervals in it, as far as to South Carolina. Here and there the settlements push inland along the banks of rivers, as on the Connecticut, to the frontier towns of Massachusetts; in New York, along the Hudson and the Mohawk, to Albany and Schenectady. Something of the same sort appears in Pennsylvania and Virginia. But, with these exceptions, the settled strip lies on the seaboard. It is, though it hardly looks like it, the seed-plot of a future nation.

Turning now to quite another region, on the peninsula of Nova Scotia he finds the peaceful French settlements of Acadia. In coming years, at the very eastern extremity of the peninsula, the ramparts and bastions of Louisburg will frown over the wild waters of the Atlantic. Running the eye along the mighty flood of the St. Lawrence, some of the older settlements are seen, and then the

rocks of Cape Diamond, crowned with the citadel of St. Louis. A few villages and settlements-very few-appear to the westward of Quebec; and then comes Montreal, the second of the two Canadian strongholds. Westward still, there is, here and there, a missionstation or a trading-post, and these will multiply as time goes on. By and by a plan will be developed of carrying a line of settlements up from the mouth of the Mississippi, to meet a westward line from Canada, and then of pushing all in, from the Gulf of Mexico to that of St. Lawrence, on the English colonies, till they are crushed and conquered. This rapid view reveals the extent and position of the colonial dependencies of "His most Christian Majesty " (with glimpses of their future), in 1690.

What of the rest of this broad land? It lay in its natural wildness, one vast expanse of leafy forest, dotted with lakes which sometimes spread to inland seas, threaded with watercourses, which were often mighty streams, holding in its untouched depths those wonderful resources for a nation's material life which near two centuries have hardly begun to develop. Here and there are Indian settlements or single wigwams, and separated camp-fires. All the rest slumbers in the silence of long centuries.

The different characters of French and English colonization determined, to a very considerable extent, their relations to these Indian tribes. On other things we need not dwell here, happily, for they are sad in the remembering, and they open a long story of shame and wrong. Permanent occupation, for the purposes and arts of civilized life, was not much in the immediate plans of the French. The fur trade, la gloire, to their credit be it said, the conversion of the pagans, and the annihilation of the power of England, were the great things in their thoughts. Perhaps, in the long future, there might develop other plans, that would bring them into different relations to the Indian tribes. But these things, as yet, were not, and, therefore, there was little cause for strife between the French colonist and his savage neighbor.

Far otherwise was it with the English colonists. They sought permanent occupation of the soil, and a national existence. And this, even had there been nothing else, must have put them at once into relations of enmity with those whom we call the aborigines. The land could not be cleared and reclaimed for purposes of agriculture, and yet continue the Indians' hunting ground. The streams could not be utilized to the needs of civilized life, and still be his fishing haunts. Every stroke of the axe, every cut of the saw, was as direct an attack on him and his life, as the boom of the

cannon or the crack of the rifle. And thus the relations of the English and the Indians became hostile from the first. It is wretched to think how that inevitable hostility has been worked out. God be thanked that better days have dawned!

As one glances over, then, those dusky hordes and tribes, the endless subdivisions of the Mobilian and Algonquin families that range the forests from the Atlantic to the Mississippi, and from the great lakes to the gulf, it is seen at once that, as a rule, they stand on the side of France. And there they will stand in the coming struggle.

There was one notable exception. In the centre of the present State of New York, along the banks of the Mohawk, across the wide midland plains, beside the charming lakes, lay the five-and, at last, the six-tribes or nations of the Iroquois. They were the bravest, the most advanced, the best of all the aborigines, not excepting even the Lenni-Lenapè. Their name and their war-cry carried dismay to the villages and lodges of the Indians of New England and of Canada. When they went upon the war-path, they swept like a tornado or a pestilence. In the chances of war these Iroquois were early thrown into hostility to the French. When Samuel Champlain came to Canada, in 1608, he found the Canadian Indians in their customary condition of war with the Iroquois. In the spring of 1609, he accompanied, with a body of soldiers, one of the Canadian war parties on an expedition against their foes. It was during this expedition, and either on Lake Champlain or Lake St. Sacrament, that the first musket was discharged on those northern waters, whose mountains were destined, in after years, to echo to many a rattling volley and many a cannonade. That musket-shot involved more than could have been imagined by the wildest fancy. It set the Iroquois, for the time at least, in opposition to the French, and in a position exceptional to that of nearly all the other tribes and nations.

How important the stand they might take was to the colonists of either of the rival nations, a glance at their geographical situation shows. There they lay, islanded, as it were, in the vast Algonquin sea, just between the French and English colonies. To which ever they adhered, they would be a living wall of defence. To which ever they opposed themselves, they would be a fiery scourge. As

1 Charlevoix, "Histoire de Nouvelle France," vol. i. p. 223, gives a very long account of this expedition. What others have written has been taken from it.