He came into the office the _Patriot_ one day and sought a desk where a reporter was writing.

Seating himself and tilting the chair until it was nicely balanced upon two legs, he smiled a serene and philanthropic smile, and said, "You see, I'm the friend of the poor Indian; he regards me as his Great White Brother, and I reciprocate his confidence and affection by doing what I can to alleviate his sufferings in his present unfortunate situation.

Young man, you do not know the anguish that fills the soul of the red man as civilization makes successive inroads upon his rights.

It is too sacred for exhibition.

He represses his emotion sternly, and we philanthropists only detect it by observing that he betrays an increased longing for firewater and an aggravated indisposition to wash himself.