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Nos. 1 and 2 adapted to Junior and intermediate classes ; 10 oents^eaoh. Not 3 and 4 adapted to advanced classes; each A Journal for Teachers, Trustees and Students. THE CANADA SCHOOL JOURNAI —HAS BEOBXVSD— An Honorable Mention at Paria Exhibition, 1878. Beeomtnended by the Mini$t«r of Education for Ontario. Beoommended by the Oouneil of Public InttructionjQneliee. Beeommended by Chief Supt. of Education New Brunnoick. Becommended by Chief Supt. of Education, Nova Scotia. Becommendedby Chief Supt. of Education, Brit. Columbia. Becommended bjf Chief Supt. of Education, Manitoba. IS XDITXD BT A Committee of $ome of the Leading Edueationieta in Ontario, by able Provincial Editore in the Provineea of Quebec, Nova Seo^ New Brufiswick, Prince Edward Itland, Manitoba, and Britieh Col bia, thu* having each teetion of the Dominion ftdly repreaented. Contains Twenty-four Pages of Reading Matter. Each number ha* live Editorials; Contributi -»a t on imi Educational topics; Helecvlons— Readings for the B« hool Boom; Notes and News from each Province. PRACTICAL DEPARTMENT wiU always have useful hints methods of teaching differeut subjects. ^ MATHGMATIOAL DEPARTMENT give^Bolntions to difficult blema also Examination Pavers. OFFICIAL DEPARTMENT contains such regulations ai may iiiued from time to time. Address— ADAM !«ILLEB ft CO., TORONTO. BuhtoriptUm, $1.00 per annum, etrietly in advance, Zn January, 1879, a Club of 1100 Subscribers received from Nova Scotia, In February, a Club of 600 from New Bmnswiol making the circulation nearly 6,000. ^-''^^ BowardM. go»<*« JiiifinOif IffiTii Book-Binding, AtfoiUed l87tl THIS BOOK IS BOUND mm PATEKT INDESTRUCTIBLE IROII BACK, Thm ranwrluiUe IqTentioii entituly does awmy with the too frequent < plaint that bookaoometo piecea in the atudeot'a hands, before they hare don* reasonable aenrice. 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It Ailly doubles the Talne of the volume to which it ia aonlied. and the appearance of a popular aer'ei of school* books thus inTinciliij cl.id will be bailed with enthusiasm hgr teadiers, frustees^" parents and ]>ttpil«. In families the same book will suttee fbr eadi child in succession, and Sclnwi Boards which adopt the Frr Book, Stbtkh may pul^ chase a single supply which will last for Tears, passing from hand to hand. In noatuess, convenience, weight and general appearance the Ibon Boou do not differ appreciably from the ordinary editions, ^e latter will be con* tinued as lonf; as called for, but It is confidently expected that the Iron Bound edition will rapidly take their place, there being no advance in price, while • ^ general introduction of this improrement will effect at least an ANNUAL SAVING OF ONE-THIRD. ^ in ths amoont at present expended by the people of Canada for school bookt The following will be ready by Ist August, in Iron Binding. SMITH A McMUBCHY'S ELEMENTARY AIUTHMXTIO. SECOND BOOK OJr HEADINO LESSONS. THIRD " " " FOURTH ••««.« J FIFTH •• . •• •* 8PBLILNO BOOK, Companion to Readtn lOL^'XB'S 8WINION*S LANOUAOE LESSONS. {Bmi9ed Edition). ADAM MILLER & CO. 8oLB PcBUSHms or ^\ s s Indestmotible School Booki, * e U^ ^9t^cci.y R 1^ National Library of Canada Biblioth^ue nationale du Canada €anahian Seties of Sctjool Ji^ookt. THE FOURTH BOOK READING LESSONS. B9 t|e Council of public Jiutnictioa for C^ntorto. TORONTO: ADAM MILLER & COMPANY, 1878. Eookselier^. 5; - or, PEI I ^1 ^o7 Entered according to Act of Provincial Legislature^ in the Year One Thousand Eight hundred and Sixty-aeven, by the Beverend Egerton Ryersox, LL.D., Chief Superin- tendent of Education for Ontario, in the OJJice of the Registrar of the Provi.*x,y the perin- f the The present volume forms the Fourth of the Cana- dian Series of School Books. The pupil, having been enabled by means of his earlier Exercises to reed with ease and intelligence, is presented in this volume with a collection of interesting extracts, chiefly in the form of narrative^ which is peculiarly at- tractive to the youthful naind. At the same time- they embody facts and phenomena of a most instructive character, with which it is desirable the pupil should, at this stage of his progress, become acquainted. The arrangement adopted in the first five sections of the volume is geographical. The Extracts comprise in- cidents in History, Biography, Travel, Discovery, and Adventure, with Sketches of Manners and Customs, Nat- ural History, &c., relating to the most important countries in the world, and classified under their appropriate head- ings. But while it has been sought to enlarge the mind of the pupil by introducing him to other lands and ages^ IV PREFACE. particular attention has been paid to the North American Provinces, by devoting to them, and to the empire of which they form so important a part, a large portion of the book. It has been desired to impart to a work design- ed for the training of the youth of our country, a nation- al character, which may help to cherish in their minds ideas and sentiments favorable to the culture of a gen- erous, patriotic spirit. The Sixth Section consists of Miscellaneous Extracts, which have been selected with a view to their furnishing an additional variety of reading lessons, suitable for the pupil as he advances in his studies, and which may serve as a fit preparation for entering on the Fifth or concluding volume of the series. i X^The vPartiil /Sir ./| »Tlie ^Histoij Education Ojpice, Toronto, December, 1867. CONTENTS. AMERICA x The Norwegian Colonien in Greenland ^Fartinf; with the Esquimaux /Sir John Franklin .... »TI»e Hudson Bwy Company iHistory of Vancouver Island ^The Fislieries of British Columbia k The Chinook Indians .... iThe Lost Hunter ^A Female Crusoe .... The Wolverine Destruction of the Red River Colony Hiawatha's SuHing .... ^ ^Foundintj; of the North American Colonies J -^he Great Auk . The Voyage of the Golden Hind Sir Humphrey Gilbert . ^he MountiiK -r in Newfoundland •f Sable Island .... yrUe Coal Fields of Nova Scotia >«Di8covery of America . yThe Prarrits sTIIe United Empire Loyalists ^Jack Frost ^ vPiteher Plants . . . .' AMoose Hunting in Nova Scoria . Histoiical Sketch of Prince Edward Island 4,Ship-huihiing in New Brunswick -* The Ship-Build«'rs Fire in the Woods Autumn Woods The Lazaretto at Triicadie . Left Ashore on Anticosti Labrador an I other Teas Story of Wapwian The Maple .... fDeat*: of Montcalm iLines on the Death of Wolfe . ffhe Rlvefr St. Lawrence fJacques Carrier at Hochelaga The Victt)ria Bridge . The liapid .... Gallantry of a Marine . Fishing for Muskaloimge . Squirrels . / .. ^Indian Summer An Indian Council rFalls of Niagara . PAOC Scoresby . . 1 Kane ... 8 Punch ... 6 Ballantyne . . 7 British North Ame- rica . .11 Edinburgh Review 14 J'aulKane . . U Street . . .17 Leisure Hour . . 21 Milron&Cheadle . 24 Ross's Jitd River . 26 Longfellow . . 27 Pedley . . .30 Links in the Chain o2 British Enterprise . 34 Loiijifellow . . 87 Corniack's Journey 88 Martin .42 Cain))I ell's Readers 44 Roheribon . . 40 Bryant . .49 Siibiiie . . .58 Miss Gould . . 67 Campleli's Readers 58 Li.'iir. Haidv. . 60 Hill's Actount. . 62 Camiibell's Readers 66 Wintrier . . 67 Norman Macleod . 69 Bryant . . .73 Gov. Gordon . . 74 Lever . . .76 Campleli's Readers 81 Biilliintyne . . 83 Darnell . . .' ?« Hawkins . . 88 Gnldsmith . . CO London Journal . 80 HawkiiiA . . 98 Cassell's Paper . 96 Sangster . . 97 Cassell's Paper . 98 Lanman . . .99 Mr . Traill . . 101 Mrs. Moodie . . 108 Sir F. B. Head . 106 Earl of Carlisle . 107 CONTENTS. * The Taking of Detroit Lumbering KAinefica to Great Britain y.The Fnlls of Ni'iffora. The Skater and the Wolves \The Skater's Soik) Tlie Prairies of Nortli America . Inteu;rity Rewarded "iA SoiKi of Einipralion . X-T/te IVesterii fluiiter ■^The ISackii'oodsnian Boyltood of iienjamin West An Adventure in tlie Life of Audubon ■^he Natural Britl^re MThf f.>'if>'e of the Dismal Siramp . „The Anierirnii Ejigle ^iCortez in Mexico .... Trapping a Tipir ■^Son^ of the Emirjrants in Bermuda 4JMie Buccanneers. A Visit to the Botanic Gardens of St.V )(T/ie West Indian Islands Shark Adventure in Panama NLTiie Earthquake of Caraccas A llair-bi'eadtii Adventure inDomerar The FnitJjful Noffro . ... X'The llnmminq-Bird An Adventure in Brazil 4|<;!onque8t of Peru Story of Maldnnata and the Puma The Gauclio of tlie Pampas rampbell's Readers . 108 Stevenson . . . Ill Allston . .118 Brainerd . . 114 Whitehead . . .116 H. B. T. ... 118 Face of the Etirth . .119 Sliarpe's Magazine , .121 Mrs. Ilemans . 122 Bryant ... 124 Peabody . .126 Seif-Taiuiht Men . . 127 liomaiitir Incidents . . 128 Elthu Burritt . . 131 Mf)ore .... 136 Wood . .136 Cassell's Paper .189 Advt'nturrs on the Mosquito shore . 141 Marvell . . . .143 7V^he Destruction of Pompei view of Lisbon . Bernardo del Carpio ..Taking of Gibraltar AFRICA. A Roman's Honor The Battle of the Nile . Ocean .... Slavery . . ^ . Afar in the Desert ^ 1 he Source of the Nile The Gorilla . A Slave Hunt in the Sahara The Slave''s Dream Scene at St. Helena The Giraffe Discovery of the Cape of Good Hope The Falls of the Zambesi ASIA. Alma River The Lament of the Peri/er Ilinda Askelon . , The Sponge Richard the Lion-heart and the Saracens The Cedar of Lebanon , . . The Lrper Mahomet ' ■ Interior of an Ancient Palace in Nineveh f The Destruction of Sennacherib Good Advice not to be Despised The Siege of Delhi .... The Pearl Fisheries of Ceylon . A Day in Bangkok .... Thu Death of Magellan Browning • Cunipbell Titan lietitlejf Raltmls Ch(imt>ers\s Tracts DutTerin Wonders of the World Camp be 11 St'gur'.s \arrative Ewald . LuHhiiigton . Hiileigli . Mn(jyay across the whole continent.-— Bbi'^ish North America. . n M 14 THE FISHERIES OF BRITISH COLUMBIA. GOLD DIGGING IN BRITISH COLUMBIA. THE FISHERIES OF BRITISH COLUMBIA. In common with the whole of the seas, gulfs, bays, rivers, and lakes of the entire district and coast, the Fraser swarms with prodigious quantities of fish. Indeed, in the harbors, herrings are literally raked into the canoes by means of a flat piece of board, sixteen or eighteen feet long, and about two and a-half inches broad, studded with a dozen tenpenny nails. In this rude manner an Indian will fill his canoe in an hour or two ; and the traveUer along the banks of the shallower streams may catch the salmon in his hands, or " gaff" them from the bank with his walking-stick. The herrings closely resemble the ordinary Scotch herring, though somewhat smaller in size ; but of the salmon there are no less than four varieties — three differing from the English variety, but all, with the exception of the hurap-backed salmon, of excellent quality and flavor. About the middle of July these salmon begin to ascend the streams from the sea, in immense shoals. Whether it is that the temperature of the coast region is too mild for the proper development of the ova, or that, near the entrance of rivers, they would be more liable to be devoured by fish of prey ; certain it is that Nature has implanted in these creatures an extraordinary desire to reach the onl^ rapi< shall On> the upoi but by tfBlA. JMBIA. 's, rivers, and swarms with bors, herrings flat piece of vo and a-half In this rude wo ; and the is may catch )ank with his inary Scotch the salmon g from the lurap-backed le middle of n the sea, in iture of the of the ova, more liable Nature has' re to reach THE FISHERIES OF BRITISH COLUMBIA. 15 >»» < the head sources of the various streams, which they resign only with their lives. * ** Onward they speed. The impetuous current is breasted, rapids are passed, cascades leaped. Onward, onward ! The shallow waters are reached ; but still they press forward, wrig- gling through meandering streams, too scant for swimming. Onward, onward, ever onward ! while myriads are left upon the strand, and die still struggling onwards. The fish are, upon entering the mouth of a river, in tolerably good order ; but after travelling up stream a few hundred miles they becon;o poor — poor indeed. The skin, broken and abrased, loses its brightness, often becomes a deep pink, and robbed of its silvery scales ;the head disfigured from blows and falls upon the rocks; the fins torn and divided in their rffor^s to force through spots too shal- low ; the eyes, once so b- 't, are now sunken and lustreless. None of these poor sainnj' descend ;;he river again,but perish." The bodies of these fl.^ i ^ nt the air for miles around ; until, with the autumnal rains, iK are again set afloat and swf^pt back into the ocean. The ir\ , )wever, remain in the mountains until the following sprius^, when they descend more leisurely to the sea, where they are said to remain for four years. In all probability, it is thuir imngunity from danger amid thes'' mountain fastnesses which thus remits so prodigious a waste by not less prodigious supplies. Nevertheless, from some unassigned cause, there, is a deartli of salmon every fourth year throughout the rivers ; and, as it furnishes the staple food of the whole native population, they would all miserabl}'^ perish but for another curious pheqpmenon. Every fourth year, when the salmon fail, we are told that the country swarms with rabbits, which are used as a sub^l-itute. Besides herrings and salmon, there are immense quantities of cod, bass, mackerel, flounder, skate, sole, halibut, and sardines. Sturgeon, sometimes exceeding 500 pounds in weight, are found at the entrance of the various rivers and in the larger inland lakes. The harbors and coast abound with oysters, a very large and excellent description of crayfish, crabs, mussels, and oiher shell-fish — excepting, however, Ipbsters ; while the thou- sand lakes with which the interior i.s studded possess trout, pike, perch, carp, eels, and white-fish from two to six pounds a piece, found also in the great lakes on the east side of the Rocky Mountains, and said to be the only description of fish of which the p^ate does not grow weary. — Edinburuu Ueview. m ill I 16 THE CHINOOK ISfDIANS. THE CHINOOK INDIANS. •yi The Chinooks evince very little taste, in comparison with some of the tribes on the eastern side ot the Rocky Mountains, in ornamenting either their persons or their warlike or domestic implements. The only utensils I saw at all creditable to their decorative skill were carved bowls and spoons of horn, and baskets made of roots and grass, woven so closely as to serve all the purposes of a pail in holding and carrying water. In these they even boil their fish. This is done by immersing the fish in one of the baskets fillt 1 with water, into which they throw red-hot stones until the fisn is cooked ; and I have seen fish dressed as expeditiously by them in this way as if done in a kettle over the fire by our own people. The only vegetables in use among them are the caraas and wappatoo. The camas is a bulbous root, much resembling the onion in outward appear- ance, but is more like the potato when cooked, and is very good eating. The wappatoo is somewhat similar, but larger, and not so dry or delicate in its flavor. They . are found in immense quantities in the plains, in the vicinity of Fort Vancouver, and in the spring of the year present a most curious and beautiful appearance, the whole surface presenting an uninterrupted sheet of bright ultra-marine blue, ifom the innumerable blossoms of these plants. They are cooked by digging a hole in the ground, then putting down a layer of hot stones, covering them with dry grass, oa which the roots are placed ; they are then covered with a layer of grass ; and on the top of this they place earth, with a small hole perforated through the earth and grass, down to the vegetables. Into this the water is poured, which, reach- ing the hot stones, forms sufficient steam to completely cook the roots in a short time, the hole being immediately stopped up on thQ mtroduction of the water. They often adopt the same ingenious process for cooking their fish and game. During the season the Chinooks are engaged in gathering camas and in fishing, they live in lodges constructed by means of a few poles covered with mats made of rushes, which can be easily moved from place to place ; but in the villages they build permanent huts of split cedar boards. Having selected a dry place for the hut, a hole is dug about three feet deep and about twenty feet square. Round the sides square cedar boards are sunk, and fastened together with cords and twisted roots, rising about four feet above the outer level : a post is sunk at the ced^ woe AN ME LOST HUNTER. IT \^ Middle of each end, with a crotch at the top, on which the ridge pole is laid, and boards are laid from thence to the top of the upright boards, fastened in the same manner. Round the interior are ereqted sleeping places, one above another, some- thing like the berths in a vessel, but larger. In the centre of this lodge the lire is made, and the smoke escapes through a hole left in the roof for that purpose. The fire is obtained by means of a small flat piece of dry cedar, in which a small hollow is cut, with a channel for the ignited charcoal to run over ; on this piece the Indian sits to hold it steady, while he rapidly twirls a round stick of the same wood between the palm of his hands, with the point pressed into the hollow of the flat piece. In a very short time sparks begin to fall through the channel upon finely-frayed cedar bark placed underneath, which they soon ignite. There is great knack in doing this, but those who are used to it will light a fire in a very short time. The men usually carry these sticks about with them, as, after they have been once used they reduce fire more quickly. The only native warlike instruments I have seen amongst them were bows and arrows ; these they use with great precision. Their canoes are hollowed out of the cedar by fire, and smoothed oflE with stone axes. Some of them are very large, as the cedar grows to an enormous size in this neighborhood. They are made very light, and from their formation are capable of with- standing very heavy seas. The Chinooks have tolerably 'good horses, and are fond of racing, at which they also bet considerably. They are expert jockeys, and ride fearlessly. — Paul Kane's " Wanderings of AN Artist among the Indians of North America." THE LOST HUNTER. Numb'd by the piercing, freezing air, And burden'd by his game. The hunter, struggling with despair, Dragg'd pn his shivering frame ; The rifle, he had shoulder'd late. Was trail'd along, a weary weight j . 2 IS r^HB LOST HUNTER. ' II ^'' ':H| His pouch was void of food ; The hours were speeding in their flighty And soon the long keen wiuter night "Would wrap the solitude. Oft did he stoop a listening ear Sweep round an anxious eye, — Ko bark or axe- blow could he hear, No human trace descry ; His sinjj^ous path, by blazes wound Among trunks group'd in myriads round, Through naked boughs, between Whose tangled archij;ecture, fraujght With many a shape, grotesquely wrought. The hemlock's spire was seen. An an tler'd dwelle r of the wild Had met his eager gaze, And far his wandering steps beguil'd Within an unknown maze ! Stream, rock, and run-way he had cross'd Unheeding, till the marks were lost By which he used to roam ; And now deep swamp, and wild ravine And rugged mountains were between The Hunter and his home. A dusky haze, which slow had crept On high now darken'd there. And a few snow-flakes fluttering swept Athwart the thick gray air. Faster and faster, till between The trunks and boughs, a mottled screen Of gliqupering naotes yas spread, That ticked against each object round With gentle and continuous sound Like brook o'er pebbled bed. The laurel tufts, that drooping hung Close rollNl* around their stems, And the sear besch-leavcs still that clung Were white with powdering gems. But hark ! afar a sullen moan Swelled out to louder, deeper tone^ t THE LOST HUNTER. 19 As surging near it pass'd, And bursting witk a roar, and shock That make the groaning forest rock, On rushed the winter blast. As o'er it whistled, shriek'd, and hiss'd Caught by its swooping wings, The snow was whirl'd to eddying mist, Barb'd, as it seem'd, with stings ; And now 'twas swept with lightning flight Above the loftiest hemlock's height, Like drifting smoke, and now It hid the air with shooting clouds, And robed the trees with circling shrouds, Then dash'd in heaps below. Here, plunging in a billowy wreath, There, clinging to a limb, The suffering hunter gasp'd for breath, Brain reel'd, and eye grew dim; As though to whelm him in despair. Rapidly changed the blackening air To murkiest gloom of night, Till naught was seen around, below, But falling flakes and mantled snow, That gleam'd in ghastly white : At every blast an icy dart Seem'd through his nerves to fly, The blood was freezing to his heart- Thought whisper'd he must die. The thundering tempest echoed death, He felt it in his tighten'd breath ; Spoil, rifle, dropp'd ; and slow As the dread torpor crawling came Along his staggering, stiffening frame. He sunk upon the snow. Reason forsook her shatter'd throne,— He deem'd that summer hours Again around him brightly shone In sunshine, leaves, and flowers ; Again the fresh, green, forest- sod, Rifle in hand, he lightly trod, — 20 ;'i, I wm\\ THB LOST HUNTEH. He heard the deer's low bleat ; Or, crouch'd within the shadowy nook^ Was luU'd by music of the brook That murmur'd at his feet. It changed ; — his cabin roof o'erspread, Rafter, and wall, and chair, Gleam'd in the crackling fire, that shed Its warmth, and he was there ; His wife had clasp'd his hand, and now Her gentle kiss was on his brow, His child was prattling by ; The hound crouch'd dozing near the blaze. And, through the pane's frost-pictured haze^ He saw the white drifts fly. That pass'd ; — before his swimming sight Does not a figure bound ? And a soft voice, with wild delight, Proclaim the lost ia found ? Ko, hunter, no ! 'tis but the streak Of whirling snow — the tempest shriek — No human aid is near ! Never again that form will meet Thy clasp'd embrace ; those accents sweet Speak music to thine ear ! Morn broke ; — away the clouds were chased, The sky was pure and bright, And on its blue the branches traced Their webs of glittering white. Its ivory roof the hemlock stoop'd, The pine its -silvery tassel droop'd, Down bent the burdenjd wood ; And, scatter'd round, low points of green. Peering above the snowy scene, Told where the thickets stood. In a deep hollow, drifted high, A wave-like heap was thrown, Dazzling in the sunny sky A diamond blaze it shone ; The little snow-bird, chirping sweet, - Dotted it o'er with tripping feet ; A FEMALE CRUSOE. 21 Unsullied, smooth, and fair, It seemed like other mounds, where trunk And rock amid the wreaths were sunk, But, O ! the dead was there. Spring came with wakening breezes bland Soft suns, and melting rains ; And, touch'd by her Ithuriel wand, Earth burst its winter chains. In a deep nook, where moss and grass And fern-leaves wove a verdant mass Some scatter'd bones beside ; — A mother, kneeling with her child. Told by her tears and wailings wild, That there the lost had died. A. B. Street. A FEMALE CRliSOE. One of the earliest travellers on the overland route, in search of the north-west paggags, was Mr. Hearne, who, during the years from 1769 to 1771, made three several jourjaeys towards the Coppermine river, in full expectation of finding a northern ocean, the existence of w^ich, it was inferred, would establish the fact of a sea route north of the great American continent. In those journeys he enco^tered the i^ost frightful perils and underwent astonishing hardships, and he manifested un- paralleled fortitude in contending against them. The third journey to some extent established the factj t^e veri^cation of which was the chief object of his expeditions, and moreover cor- rected some important errors in the reports of preceding explorers. But we have nothing to say on that subject here. Mr. Hearne's expeditions have long been a dead letter ; and we refer to them only for the purpose of introducing an epi^de in his adventures, which strikes us as affording, perhaps, the most remarkable instance of female resources and self-reliance ever recorded. When Mr. Hearne, with a company of Indian guides, was travelling in the arctic circle, not far from the Lake Athapus- cow, one of the guides came suddenly upon the track of a strange snow-shoe. Astonished at the sight, in a region supposed to be )]LQndreds of miles from any human habitation, the Indians foI-> 22 A FEMALE CRUSOE. lowed up the track, and after pursuing it for some distance, arrived at a small hut or cabin, formed of snow and driftwood, where they discovered a young woman sitting alone. She under- stood their language, and did not need much pcrsjjasion to induce her to return with them to the traveller's tent. Here, on being interrogated, she told her story ; when it came out that she was a native of the tribe of Dog-ribbed Indians, who were, or had been, at feiid with the Athapuscans, and that at an inroad of the latter, during the summer of 1770, she had been taken prisoner and carried off to slavery. In the follow- ing summer, when the Athapuscan Indians were travelling the country, she watched her opportunity, and on arriving near the place where she was found, managed one night to give them the slip, intending to find her way back to her own people. In this, however, she was disappointed. She had been carried away in a canoe, and the twistings and windings of the river were so many and intricate, and so often intersected each other, and there were so many lakes and marshes, that she found it impossible to pursue her route. In this dilemma, instead of resigning herself to despair, she set about building a dwelling for a shelter during the winter, and having completed it, she calmly took up her abode and commenced her solitary housekeeping. She had kept an account of all the moons that had passed ; and from this it appeared that for seven months she had nut seen a human face, and had subsisted in this desolate region en- tirely by her own unaided exertions. How had she contrived to sustain life ? When asked that question, she said that when she ran away from her captors she took with her a few deer sinews. With these she made snares, and caught partridges, rabbits, and squirrels ; she had also killed a few beavers and porcupines, and was not only not in want of food at the period when she was discovered, but had a tolerably good stock of pro- visions laid up for future use. When the snares made of the deer sinews were all worn out, she was ready with another stock manufactured with sinews drawn from the legs of rabbits and squirrels, which had fallen victims to her cunning. But this " exemplary female " had not only well stocked her la^er by the exercise of industry and forethought, but had also taken equal care of her wardrobe. From the skins of the various animals she had caught she had made up an excellent winter suit, which was not only warm and comfortable, but, according to Mr, Hearne, was put together with great taste and exhibited no 81 were] the pears shanl A FEMALE CRUSOE, 23 no small variety of ornament. " The materials, though rude, were curiously wrought, and so judiciously arranged as to make the whole garb have a pleasing though somewhat romantic ap- pearance." Her working implements consisted of the broken shank of an iron arrow-head, and a few inches of iron hoop roughly sharpened into a knife ; and with these she had con- structed not only her dress, but a pair of substantial snow shoes and several other useful articles. The keeping up her fire had given her most trouble. With two sulphurous stones she could by dint of violent friction and continuous pounding raise a few sparks so as to kindle a hand- ful of loose fibres of wood carefully picked small ; but the labor was wearisome and long ; and to avoid the necessity of it, she had not suffered her fire to be extinguished for many months. She was never idle. When fatigued with the toils of the chase, or when she was noi under the necessity of hunting, she occu- pied herself in peeling off the inner bark of the willow trees with which the spot abounded, and twisting it into a species of twine. Of this sort of line she had already accumulated several liundreds of fathoms in length ; and it was her intention to make of them a capacious net for fishing, as soon as th^ frost should break up and the streams become practicable. Of this remarkable female, Mr. Hearne, in his journal, says : '^ She was one of the finest women I have seen in any part of Noich America." It would seem that his Indian guides were of the same opinion ; and that, while they admired her for the comeliness of her person they were by no means insensible of the value of her multifarious accomplishments. There was not a man among them who did not desire to have her for his wife ; so, according to the custom of their tribe, they put her up to competition and wrestled in the ring for her — the strongest, after he had overthrown all the rest, having her duly assigned to him. We might add a whole volume of reflections upon the cheerful, active, womanful spirit of this female Crusoe, uncivilized as she was, as contrasted with the desponding helplessness which we too often witness among women, and men too, who, with every motive to industry and activity, and every encouragement to exert both, lose all self-reliance under the first shock of adver- sity and pass their days in useless indolence and repining. We forbear however : such a history is better without a set mortal, and carries its owu comme»t.-^LEJSXJ«E Hour, 24 THE WOLVERINE. A MARTEN TRAP. THE WOLVERINE. i • M The fur-hunter's greatest enemy is the North American glutton, or, as he is commonly called, the wolverine or carcajou. This curious animal is rather larger than an English fox, with a long body stoutly and compactly made, mounted oa exceedingly short legs of great strength. His broad feet are armed with powerful claws, and his track in the snow is as large as the print of a man'c fist. The shape of his head, and hairy coat, give him very much the appearance of a shaggy brown dog. During the winter months he obtains a liveUhood by availing himself of the labors of the trapper, and such serious injury does he inflict, that he has received from the Indians the name of Kekwaharkess, or the *' Evil One." With untiring pe^e- verance he hunts day and night for the trail of man, and when it is found, follows it unerringly. When he comes to a lake, where the track is generally drifted over, he continues his untiring gallop round its borders, to discover the point at which it again enters the woods, and follows it until he arrives at one of the wooden traps. Avoiding the door, he speedily tears open an entrance at the back, and seizes the bait with M THE WOLVERINE. 26 impunitj ; or if the trap contains an animal, he drags it out, andrwith wanton malevjglence, mauls it and hides it at some distance in the underwood, or at the top of some lofty pine. Occasionally, when hard pressed by hunger, he devours it. In this manner he demolishes the M'hole series of traps, and when once a wolverine has established himself on a trapping walk, the hunter's onl^ chance for success is to change ground and build a fresh lot of traps, trusting to secure a few furs before the new path is found out by his industrious enemy. Strange stories are related by the trappers of the extraor- dinary cunning of this animal, which they believe to possess a wis(i( m almost human. He is never caught by the ordinary " deadfall." Occasionally one is poisoned, or caught in a steel trap r but his strength is so great, that many traps strong enough to hold securely a large wolf, will not retain a wolve- When caught in this way, he does not, like the fox and rme. the mink, proceed to amp^tatQ the limb, but, assisting to carry the trap with his mouth, makes ^11 haste to reach a lake or river, wher»! he can hasten forward at speed, unobstructed by trees and uUen wc od. After travelling far enough to be tolerably safe from pursuit for a time, he devotes himself to the ex^i- cation of the imprisoned limb, in which he not unfrequently succeeds. The wolverine is also sometimes killed by a gun, placed leaning on a bait, to which is attached a string communi- cating with the trigger. La Ronde assured us most solemnly that on several occasions the carcajou had been far too cunning for him, first approaching the gun and gnawing in two the cord communicating with the trigger, and the^: securely devouring the bait. In one instance, when every device to deceive his persecutor had been at once seen through, and utterly futile, he adopted the plan of placing the gun in a tree, with the muzzle pointir.g vertically downwards upon the bait. This was suspended from a branch, at such a height that the animal could not reach it without jumping. The gun was fastened high up in the tree, completely screened from view by the branches. Now the wolverine is an animal troubled with exceeding curiosity. He investigates evf,ry thing ; an old moccasin thrown aside in the busGes, or a knife lost in the snow, is ferreted ^out and examined, ajid ar y vhing suspended almost out of reach generally offers an iiiooi^tibU temptation. But in the case related by Xta Ronde, the carcftjou restrained his curiosity i»nd hunger for 2i DESTRUCTION OF THE BED EIVER COLONY. the time, climbed the tree, and cut the cords which bound the gun, which thus tumbled harmless to the ground, and then descend- ing, secured the bait without danger. Poison and all kinds of traps having already failed, La Ronde was fairly beaten and driven off the ground. — Lord Milton*^ and Db. Chsadle's Travels. DESTRUCTION OF THE RED RIVER COLONY THE NORTH-WEST COMPANY. BY The North-West party, consisting chiefly of half-breeds, had been augmented to upwards of 300 strong, all mounted on horseback, and armed with various weapons, such as guns, spears, and tomahawks, or bows and arrows. They were painted like demons, their heads plumed, and they rushed to the strife with a yell which gave fatal warning to the industri- ous but half-starved colonists of the danger that threatened them. At the critical period to which we have brought our narrative, these daring marauders had penetrated through the very heart of the Hudson Bay Company's territories as far as the shores of the Atlantic, which reach Hudson Bay, and in their grasping propensities set at defiance every legal restraint and moral obligation. They pillaged their opponents or destroyed their establishments, as suited their views at the time, and not uiiirequently, kept armed parties marauding from post to post. It was one of these bands, numbering about sixty-five persons, that advanced against the infant colony on the fatal 19th of June, when a rencontre took place, in which twenty-one lives were lost, the flower of the Red River colo- nists strewing the field, like the slain on the morning of Chevy Chas^. The particulars of this conflict are briefly as follows : — The approach of the enemy was announced by the women and children of the settlers; who were seen running from place to place in alarm, seeking protection, and crying out that the settlers were made prisoners. On this, it appears, Governor Semple, who was Governor-in-chief of the Hudson Bay Com- pany's territories, with several other gentlemen and attendants, walked out to meet the strangers, now discerned to be a party of b^f-breeds f^nd Indi^os^ ^1 mounted ftad armed. Th^ir HIAWATHA'S SAILING 27 OLONY BY hostile pnrpoM being manifest, the goyernor and his party halted, and were seen in a group, as if consulting together, while the Indians and half-breeds divided themselves into two bodies, and instantly commenced firing from the shelter afforded by a few willows ; first a shot or two, and them a merciless volley. The party of Governor Semple, consisting of twenty- eight persons, was completely surrounded, and of that number no less than twenty-one were killed : namely, Mr. Semple, the governor ; Captain Rogers, mineralogist ; Mr. White, the sur- geon ; Mr. McLean, the principal settler ; Lieutenant Holt, of the Swedish navy ; Mr. Wilkinson, the governor's secretary, and fifteen men ; beside which, Mr. J. P. Bourke, the storekeeper, of whom we shall have to speak hereafter, «vas wounded, but saved himself by flight. The unhallowed triumph of the mur- derers was complete. Only one of their number fell in the battle, as they called it, and one other, we believe, was wounded, while the colonists who survived the massacre were ordered once more t > leave their homes, without further warning or preparation, on pain of being hunted down and shot like wild beasts, if they should ever appear there again. It is doubtful, indeed, whether one innocent head would have been spared ; and that any escaped was due to the generosity and heroism of Mr. Grant, the chief of the hostile party, who rushed before his own people, and at the imminent peril of his life, kept them at bay, and saved the remnant of the settlers from extirpation. Their houses, however, w^te ransacked j*^ their goods pillaged, and the whole colony driven into exile. They again found a refuge at Jack River, now called Norway House, situated at the northern extremity of Lake Winnipeg. — Ross's Red River Settlement. HIAWATHA'S SAILING. Give me of your bark, O Birch-Tree ! Of your yellow bark, O Birch-Tree ! Growing by the rushing river. Tall and stately in the valley ! I a light canoe will build me, Build a swift Cbeemaua for sailingi 28 *■ %0 hm HIAWATHA S SAILING. That shall float upon the river, Like a yellow leaf in Autumn, Like a yellow water-lily ! " Lay aside your cloak, O Birch-Tree ! Lay aside your white-skin wrapper, For the summer-time is coming. And the sun is warm in heaven. And you need no white-skin wrapper ! " Thus aloud cried Hiawatha, In the solitary forest. By the rushing Taguamenaw, When the birds were singing gaily, In the Moon of Leaves were singing, And the sun from sleep awaking, Started up and said, " Behold me ! Geezis, the great Sun, behold me ! " And the trees with all its branches Rustled in the breeze of morning. Saying with a sigh of patience, " Take my cloak, O Hiawatha ! *' With his knife the tree he girdled ; Just beneath its lowest branches. Just above the roots, he" cut it. Till the sap came oozing outward ; Down the trunk, from top to WBttom, Sheer he rteft the bark rounder, With a woodfeh wedge he raised it. Stripped it from the trunk unbroken. " Give me of your boughs, O Cedar I Of your strong and pliant branches, My canoe to make more steady. Make more strong and firm beneath me ! Through the summit of the Cedar, Went a sound, a cry of horror ! Went a murmur of resistance ; But it whispered, bending downward, •' Take my boughs, O Hiawatha I " Down he hewed the boughs of Cedar, Shaped them straightway to a framework, Like two bows he formed and shaped them, Like two bended bows together. *' Give me of your roots, O Tamarack I HIAWATHA-S SAILING* 29 Of your fibroua roots, Larch-Tree J My canoe to bind together, So to bring the ends together, That the water may not enter, That the river may not wet me ! " And the Larch, with 11 its fibres, Shivered in the air of morning, Touched Us forehead with its tassels, Said, with ona long sigh of sorrow, '' Take them all, O Hiawatha 1 " From the earth he tore the fibres, Tore the tough roots of the Larch-Tree, Closely sewed the bark together, Bound it closely to the framework. " Give me of your balm, O Fir-Tree I Of your balsam and your resin, So to close the seams together That the water may not enter, That the river may not wet me ! " And the Fir-Tree, tall and sombre. Sobbed through all its robes of darkness, Rattled lite^ a shore with pebbles. Answered wailing, answered weeping, " Tate my balm,*0 Hiawatha ! " And he took the tears of balsam. Took th^esin of the Fir-Tree,* Smeared^here#!th each seaol^nd fissure, ' Made each crevi<^Pfeafe fr^ water. " Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog ! *"A11 your quills, O Kagh^the Hedgehog I I will make a necklace of theoS, Make a girdle for my beauty, And two stars to deck her bosom ! " , From a hollow tree the Hedgehog With his sleepy eyes looked at him. Shot his shining quills like arrows. Saying, with a drowsy murmur, Through the tangle of his whiskers, *' Take my quills, O Hiawatha ! " From the ground the quills he gathered, All the little sbming arrows, . Stained them red and blue and yellow n • :% 80 FOUIJDING OF THE KORTS AMERICAN COLONIES With the juice of roots and berries ; Into his canoe he wrought them, Round its waist a shining girdle, Round its bows a gleaming necklace, On its breast two stars resplendent. Thus the Birch Canoe was builded, In the valley, by the river. In the bosom of the forest ; And the forest's life was in it, ^ All its mystery and it§ magic, All the lightness of the birch-tree^ All the toughness of the ce^ar, ^ All the larch's supple sinews ; And it floated on the river Like a yellow leaf in Autumn, Like a yellow water-lily. FOtNDING OF THE NORTH AMERICAN COLONIES. If the close of the fifteenth century is illustrious by the fir. t discovery of the lands of the New World, the two following centuries are distinguished for the pro^ution of the work of discovery in more minute and pr ac dcal avails, and for attempts at settlement in the immense temtories which exploring enter- f prise had brought to light. Le^ng out of view the efforts of the Spaniards in this direction, who found a splendid field for colonizing in the islands and continent of the South, the French occupy a foremost place in these researches, and in endeavors to turn them to account. About 1504, i^ome Basque and Breton fishermen, engaged in the cod-fishery, discovered an island to the south-west of Newfoundland, to which was given the name of Cape Breton — the name by which it is known at the present day. Nearly twenty years later Verazzano, furnished with authority from Francis I., surveyed a considerable portion of the coast of North America and in 1534, Jacques Cartier, — ^men- tioned before as touching on Newfoundland, — after visiting parts of that island, crossed the gulf on its western side, and passing by Anticosti, sailed up a mighty river, the St. Lawrence, to the site of the present city and fortress of Quebec. With bim was A COLONIES FOtmBlUa G» THB AMftKICiLW COLOKlBS. 81 COLONIES. shortly afterwards jomed Roberval., commissioned by the court to plant a colony, and engage in trade witn the natives. Then followed nearly half a century in which France manifested little interest in these transatlantic possessions, — being too much ocgi- pieS with civil dissensions within her own borders. This internal discord being brought to an end by the elevation of Henry IV. to The throne, attej^tion was again turned to the regions of the west. In the year 1603, Champlain sailed for Canada, thus beginning a coijf se of labors of the deepest interest to the rising colony. He organized a sys^m of trade with the Indians ; he formed amicable confederacies with them, or humbled them in war by ttie sup^ior sc^ce of European civilization. He fostered settlements of his countrymen, and laid the foundation of Quebec, in which city he was buried, in the year 1635. In the mean time, while France was consolidating her supremacy over the region traversed by the St. Lawrence, she had also gained an established footing in the territory bordering on the ocean — the present Nova Scotia, to which she gave the name of Acadia. In that country, as well as in Cape Breton, little French commmiities were being formed, and forts erected for the purpqse o^rotection and defence. During the same period, England had not been idle in the matter of taking possessi*-^n of new countries, and planting her sons therein. The great pioneer in this work was the illustrious Raleigh. Not discouraged by the disastrous result of the enter- prise of which his brother-in-law. Sir Humphrey Gilbert, had beeiTthe leader, he organized another expedition, whose desti- nation was the remote shores of the continent. Under these auspices, possession was taken of the country washed by the waters of the Chesapeake, and through various vicissitudes attending th') settlers, — often privations from the want of supplies from Europe, and contests with the natives — the infant colony took root, under the name of Virginia, in honor of the maiden queen, and grew up to be a flourishing state. It was more than a quarter of a century after the commencement of this plantation, that there took place the memorable exodus of the Pilgrim Fathers — a little community of men, women, and children, who made themselves exiles for the sake of conscience and freedom. These landed at first, to find a desolate home on the shores of the bay to the north of Cape Cod, and laid the foundation of the New England States, destined one day to innugurate a successful war with the mother country, which J J W ' 82 *ttl!! GilBAT At^. ■ Q resulted in the independence of a continent. Virginia and Massachusetts were the most notable of the English transatlantic colonies of the seventeenth century. But soon others rose by their side. Maryland, so called after Henrietta Maria^ wife of Charles I., was granted to the Roman Catholic Lord Balti- more as an asylum for his co-religionists, and, in 1634, two hundred persons of that faith took possession of this beautiful country, to avoid the disabilities which had pressed hard upon them in a Protestant nation. Carolina, called after Charles II., was first occupied by persons who had fled from the severe Puritan rule of Massachusetts^ whose numbers were largely augmented by Enghsh emigrants furnished with lavish grants of land xfom the King. It was at a much later period that William Penn, who was a creditor of the government to the amount of £16,000, received in payment an immense tract of country stretching indefinitely inland^ and bounded on the east by the Delaware river, and so was founded the Quaker State of Pennsylvania. The territory of the now important State of New York was first explored by the discoverer, Henry Hudson, whose name is perpetuated in the magnificent river which American tourists know so well. Its commencement as a colony was, however, by the Dutch, and for half a century it acknowledged the sovereignty of Holland, when it was conquered and added to the dominion which prevailed in the adjoining states.. New Hampshire and Maine were originally planted by some earnest adherents of loyalty and of the Church of England, but these characteristics were soon swamped by accessions from Massachusetts, under the sway of whose government the colony at length fell. — Pedley's Histoby of Newfoundland. if!! : 'I THE GREAT AUK It appears that the Great Auk, a noble bird nearly three feet in length, is on the point of becoming extinct, if indeed, it be not already a thing of the past. The fact of a large bird thus dying out apparently in uur own day, has naturally excited great interest, and has led to a careful investigation of all tko circumstances of the case. *HE GEEAT AtrS. M In early times the prineipal haunts of the Great Auk appear to have been tho eastern part of Newfoundland and Labrador, where they existed in immense profusion. On the Newfound- land fishing-banks the Great Auk was, two centuries ago, to be found in great abundance. Its appearance was always hailed by the mariner approaching that desolate coast as the first indication of his having reached soundings on the fishing-banks. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, these waters, as well as the Iceland and Faroe coasts, were annually visited by hundreds of ships from England, France, Spain, Holland, and Portugal ; and these ships actually were accustomed to provision themselves with the bodies and eggs of these birds, which they found breeding in myriads on the low islands off the coast of Newfoundland. Besides the fresh birds consumed by the ship'g crews, many tons were salted down for future use. In the space of an hour, these old voyagers tell us, they could fill thirty boats with the birds. It was only necessary to go on shore, armed with sticks, to kill as many as they chose. The birds were so stupid that they allowed themselves to be taken up on their own proper element by boats under sail ; and it is even said that on putting out a plank, it was possible to drive the Great Auks up out of the sea into the boats. On land the sailors formed low enclosures of stones into which they drove the birds, and as they were unable to fly, kept them there enclosed till they were wanted for the table. It is said, too, that as the birds were fat and burned well, they were actually used for fuel, as the dried bodies of the Auks and Guillemots are still employed on th« Westerraann Islands. As may be suppose'il, this wholesale slaughter of the birds speedily reduced their numbers, and there is no certain informa- tion that any individuals of the species have been seen on those coasts during the present century. The last known breeding- places of the bird are two isolated rocks, extremely difficult of access, off the south coast of Iceland ; and at long intervals, some times of ten or fifteen years, a few individuals have been obtained thence, up to the year 1844. In that year a pair of birds, male and female, were shot at their nest on a little islet near to one of the former breeding-places, and since that time, not- withstanding that the most careful search has everywhere been made for it, the Great Auk has nowhere been seen alive. It is conjectured that the bird may still be an inhabitant of the inaccessible shores of East (Treenland, though none of tha 4 R 3 '^^ (' : u Voyage of" the g6lden hind. ,ve88el8''pa88mg that way ever come across ' it, nor has it evei* Ibeen seen by any of the Arctic exploring expeditions. "^^ It may, of course, yet be discovered on some part of that ice- bound coast ; but it is by no means improbable that the Great 'Auk has now ceased to exist, and has thus taken the place, till now occupied by the Dodo, of the last in the series of extinct birds. — " Links in the Chain." THE VOYAGE OF THE GOLDEN HIND. Impoverished by these disasters, it was not till the patent had nearly exjnred, that Sir "Humphrey procured the means to eqy^p anothei- expedition. With the assistance of Raleigh, now in high favor with the Queen, he co^ected a fleet of five ships. " We were in all," says the chronicler of thi^ voyage, " two hundred and sixty men , among wtiom we had of every fagulty good choice ; as shipwrights, masons, carpenters, smiths, and such li^e, requisite to such an action ; also mineral men, and refiners. Besio.es, for solace of our own people, and alliijj^ement pOhe savages v.e were"* provided with music in good variety ; ■^ - ^^tF D. VOYAGE OF THE GOLDEK llIND. sa nor has it evel* xpeditions. '^. It »art of that ice- that the Great n the place, till series of extinct HIND. till the patent the means to Raleigh, now of five ships. voyage, "two every fagulty , smiths, and era! men, and md allurement good variety ; Hot omitting the best toys for morris - dancers, hobby-horses and many like conceits." Before Gilbert sailed, on the 11th of June, 1583, the Queen sent him a jewel, representing an " andior guided by a lady," as a token of regard. In spite of the desertion of the barque which ^Raleigh had equiAed, the fleet reached Newfoundland in safety^J^the end QMMI^ '^be first glimpse of the coast — a bleak stretBtogAfCS^^Wming through a dense fog — was disheartening; but^^more favored spot was soon after reached, where the weary mariners were charmed with the sight of fresh green foliage, bright flowers, and berry-bearing plants. It was just at tJie close of the fishing season, of which they observed a significant sign in the " incredible multitude of sea-fowl hovering over the banks, to prey upon the offal of fish thrown away by the fishermen." They were well received by the ships of various nations at St. John's. Sir Humphrey at once landed, took formal possession^ of the country in the name of the Queen, amid a salyp of or dnance from the vessels in the anchorage, and gave grants of land to various pe.'sons. Disliaffection, unfortunately, broke out among his crew, one- half of whom returned to England. With the rest h^. set out to explf re the coast towards the south. He sailed in his little tei^Apn cuUer, the Squirrel ; the largest ships, the De^ght and the Golden Hind, following as near the shore as they dared. The summer was spent in examining all the creeks and bays, noting the soqjiding, taking the bearings of every possible har- bor, and carefully surveying the rugged coast, at the great risk of destruction. The admiral was satisfied with the appgj^ance of the land. A lump of ore which was picked up was pronounced by the mineral men to be silver, to the delight of the crew. One night, towards the end of August, there were signs of a gathering storm, though the wp-ither was fair and pleasant. It was afterwards remembered that "like the swan, that singeth ^efore her death, they in tha Z^e/iV/Ai continued in the sounding of drums and trumpets and fifes, also the windings of corjiets and hautboys, and in the end of their jollity, left with the battell and ringing of doleful bells." Two days after, the tem- pest broke upon tLem. ThQ Delight, the largest vessel in the fleet, struck upon^a rock, and went down in sight of the other vessels, rvhich were unable to render any help. A large store of provisions, and Sir Humphrey's papers, were lost. The Hind and the Squirrel, which had made a narrow escape, were now alone. The weather continued boisterous ; winter had fairly set, /, l':M;% 36 VOYAGE Of THE GOLDEN HIND- IS ^^i in, and the cold became more cruel. Provisions running shorty both crews were put on short allowance, and used to coiidole with each other by signs, pointing to their mouths, and exhibit- ing their thin and tattered clothes. Not without much pressure from his men. Sir Humphrey was pervaded to abandon his explorations for th^^r^ent, and to return to England. He did his best to cheer^iie dro&ping spirits of his companions, going from one vessel to the other " making merry," speaking hopefully of future expeditions to Newfoundland, and declaring that, on hearing what had been done, the Queen would provide the money for another voyage. Those in the Golden Hind besought him not to expose himself to shipwreck in a vessel so slight, frail, and overloaded as the Squirrel ; but he refused to quit the men with whom he had already passed through so many storms and perils. Soon afterwards the weather became dark and lowering. The sailors, oppressed with a vague sense of coming ill, declared that they heard strange voices in the air, and beheld fearful shapes flitting around the ship. The seas were more " outrageous " than the oldest mariner had ever known before. " On Monday, the 9th September," says Hayes, " in the afternoon, the frigate was near cast away, oppressed by the waves, but at that time recovered. Giving forth signs of joy, the general sitting abaft with a book in his hand, cried out to us in the Hind^ so often as we did approach within hearing, * We are as near to heaven by sea as by land,' reiterating the same speech, — well becoming a soldier resolute in Jesus Christ, as I can testify he was. The same Monday night, about twelve of the clock, or not long after, the frigate being ahead of us in the Golden Hind, suddenly her lights went out, whereof, as it were in a moment, we lost the sight ; and withal our watch cried, ' The general is cast away ! ' which was too true. " Thus perished Sir Humphrey Gilbert, to the end resolute in a purpose honest and godly, as was this, to discover, possess, and reduce into the service of God and Christian piety, those remote and heathen countries of America." The Golden Hind survived the storm, and bore the tidings of the disastrous fate of the expedition to England. — British En- terprise v PRISE BEYOND THE SEAS. I A |, I I ll « AA./^ ■''W^f^ SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT. 87 SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT. Southward with a fleet of ice . Sailed the corsair, Death ; Wild and fast blew the blast, And the east-wind was his breath. His lordly ships of ice Glistened in the sun : On each side, like pennons wide Flashing crystal streamlets run. His sails of white sea-mist Dripped with silver rain ; But where he passed there were cast Leaden shadows o'er the main. Eastward from Campobello, Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed , Three days or more seaward he bore, Then, alas ! the land-wind failed. Alas ! the land-wind failed. And ice-cold grew the night ; And never more, on sea or shore. Should Sir Humphrey see the light. He sat upon the deck, The Book was in his hand ; " Do not fear ! heaven is as near," He said, " by water as by land." In the first watch of the night, Without a signal's sound, Out of the sea, mysteriously. The fleet of Death rose all around. The moon and the evening star Were hanging in the shrouds ; Every mast, as it passed. Seemed to Ts.ke the passing clouds. m 'iii lU'; illi 38 THE MOUNTAINEER IN NEWFOUNDLAND. They grappled with their prize, At midnight black and cold ! As of a rock was the shock ; Heavily the ground-swell rolled. Southward, through day and dark, They drift in close embrace, With mist and rain, to the Spanish Main ; Yet there seems no change of place. Southward, for ever southward, They drift through dark and day ; And like a dream, in the Gulf Stream Sinking, vanish all away. Longfellow. THE MOUNTAINEER IN NEWFOUNDLAND. At daybreak the atmosphere was frosty, and the slender white column of smoke still more distinctly seen. There were human beings there, and, deserted as I was, I felt an irresistible desire to approach my fellow-creatures, whether they should prove friendly or hostile. Having put my guns and pistols in the best order, and no appearance of my Indian at noon, I left my knapsack and all encumbrances, and descended through thickets and marshes towards the nearest part of the lake, about two miles distant. The white sandy shore, formed of dis- integrated granite, was much trodden over by deer and other animals, but there were no marks of man discernible. The extent of the lake was uncertain ; but it was apparent that it would require two days at least to walk round either end to the nearest point of the shore opposite to the occupied island. I therefore kept on my own side to discover who the party was. By firing off my gun, if the party were Red Indians, they would in all probability move off quickly on hearing the report, and they having no fire-arms, my fire would not be answered ; if they were other Indians, my fire would be returned. I fired : by and by the report of a strange gun travelled among the islands from the direction of the smoke ; and thus all my doubts and apprehensions were dispelled. The report of this THE MOUNTAINEER IN NEWFOUNDLAND. 89 lONGFELLOW. hrun was the first noise T had heard caused by man, except by my Indian and self, for more than five weeks, and excited very pe» culiar feelings. • In about an hour my lost Indian unexpectedly made his appearance from the direction where we had parted on the preceding evening, brought to the spot by the report of my gun. He accounted for himself " that after having shot a stag about two miles from the spot appointed for our encampment, he attempted to get round the west end of the lake to reconnoitre the party on the island, but found the distance too great, and getting benighted, had slept in the woods." Soon afterwards, to my great delight, there appeared among some woody islets in front, which precluded the view of the other side of the lake, a small canoe, with a man seated in the stern paddling softly towards us, with an air of serenity and independence possessed only by the Indian. After a brotherly salutation with me, and the two Indians kissing each other, the hunter proved to be unable to speak English or French. They, however, soon understood each other ; for the stranger, although a mountaineer from Labrador, could speak a little of the Micmac language, his wife being a Micmac. The mountaineer tribe belongs to Labrador, and he told us that he had come to Newfoundland, hearing that it was a better hunting country than his own, and that he was now on his way from St. George's Bay to the Bay of Despair, to spend the winter with the Indians there. He had left St. George's Ba}' two months before, and expected to be at the Bay of Despair two weeks hence. This was his second year in Newfoundland ; he was accompanied by his wife only. My Indian told him that I had come to see the rocks, the deer, the beavers, and the Red Indians ; and to tell King George what was going on in the mid- dle of that country. He said St.George's Bay was about two weeks' walk from u ^ if - we new the best way ; and invited us over with him in his canoe, to rest a day at his camp, where he said he had plenty of venison, which was readily agreed to on my part. The island, on which the mountaineer's camp was, lay about three miles distant. The varying scenery, as we paddled towards it amongst a number of islets, all of granite and mostly covered with spruce and birch trees, was beautiful. His canoe was similar to those described to have been used by the ancient Britons on the invasion of the Romans. It was made of 40 THE MOUNTAINEER IN NEWFOUNDLAND. ;!; •lilfii::; :,:::d| wicker-work, covered over outside with deer-skins sewed to- gether, stretched on it, nearly of the usual form of canoes, with a bar or beam across the middle, and one at each end to strengthen it. The skin covering, flesh side out, was fastened or laced to the gunjvales with thongs of the same material. Owing to decay and wear, it requires to be renewed once in from six to twelve weeks. It is in these temporary barks that the Indians of Newfoundland to the present day navigate the lakes and rivers of the interior. They are easily carried, owing to their lightness, across the portages from one water to another, and, when damaged, easily repaired. There were innumerable granite rocks in the lake a little above and below the surface. On one of these our canoe struck, and rubbed a hole through the half-decayed skin, which was attended with some risk to our persons and guns. His wigwam was situated in the centre of a wooded islet, at which we arrived before sunset. The approach from the landing-place was by a mossy carpeted avenue formed by the trees having been cut down in that direction for firewood. The sight of a fire not of our own kindling, of which we were to partake, seemed hospjjality. The wigwam was occupied by his wife, seated on a deer-skin, busy sewing together skins of the same kind to renew the outside of the canoe, which we had just found required it. A large Newfoundland dog, her only companion in her husband's absence, had welcomed us at the landing-place with signs of the greatest joy. Sylyan happiness reigned here.. His wigwam was of semj-circular form, covered with birch-rind and dried deer-skins, the fire in the fore-ground outside. Abundance and neatness pervaded the encampment. On hori^ntal poles over the fire hung quantities of vejjisoH steaks, being smoke-dried. The hostess was cheerful, and a supper of the best the chase could afford was soon set before us on sheets of birch-rind. They told "me " to make their camp my own, and to use every thing in it as such.". Kindness so elegantly tendered by these people of nature in their solitude, commenced to soften those feelings which had been fortified against receiving any comfort except that of my own administer- ing. The excellence of the venison, and of the flesh of young bears, could not be surpassed. A cake of hard deer's fat, with scraps of suet toasted brown intermixed, was eaten with the meat ; soup was the drink. Our hostess, after supper, sang several Indian songs at my request ; they were plaintive, and THE MOUNTAINEER IN NEWFOUNDLAND. 41 sung In a high key. The song of a female, and her contentment in this remote and secljided spot, exhibited the strange diversity there is in human nature. My Indian entertained us inces- santly until nearly daylight with stories about what he had seen in St. John's. Our toils were for the time forgotten. The mountaineer had occupied this camp for about two weeks, deer being very plentiful all round the lake. His larder, which was a kind of shed erected on the rocky shore, for the sake of a free circulation oi air, was in reality a well-stocked butcher's stall, containing parts of some half-dozen fat deer, also the carcasses of beavers, otters, musk-rats, and martens, all method- ically laid out. His property consisted of two guns and am- munition, an axe, some good cujjnary utensils of iron and tin, blankets, a number of dried deer-skins to sleep on, and with which to cover his wigwam, the latter with the hair off ; a collection of skins to sell at the sea-coast, consisting of those of beaver, otter, marten, musk-rat, and deer, the last dried and the hair off ; also a stock of dried venison in bundles. Animal flesh < . every kind in steaks, without salt, smoked dry on the fire forforty-eight hours, becomes nearly as light and portable as cork, and will keep sound for years. It thus forms a good substitute for bread, and by being boiled two hours recovers most of its original qualities. This lake, called Mulpegh or Crooked Lake, by the Indians, I also named in honor of Professor Jameson. It is nine or ten miles in length by from one to three in breadth, joined by a strait to another lake nearly as large, lying south-east, called Burnt Bay Lake, and is one of the chain of lakes connected by the East Bay River of the Bay of Despair, already noticed as running through Serpentine Lake, which forms part of the grand route of the Indians. We left the veteran mountaineer (James John, by name,) much pleased with our having fallen in with him. He landed us from his canoe on the south shore of the lake, and we took our departure for the westward along the south side. — Cormack's Journey Across Newfoundland. 42 SABLE ISLAND, SABLE ISLAND. Sable Island, famous for the disastrous attempt at colonization made on its inhospitable shores by The Marquis de la Rouche, in 1598, has acquired" a still more painful notoriety from having been the scene and occasion of very many shipwrecks, from its lying in the direct tract of vessels to and from Europe. It is about 85 miles distant from Cape CansOy and is included in the province of Nova Scotia. Its length is about 30 miles ; its breadth varies greatly, from its irregular outline, which is some- what in the form of a bow. The west end is N. lat. 43° 56' 42", W. long. 60° 71' 15" ; the east end is N. lat. 43^ 59' 5", W. long. 59° 42'. A considerable sum of money is annually appropriated for the maintenance of an establishment on the island consist- ing of a superintendent and assisj-ants, with abundant supplies of every article likely to be required in case of shipwreck. This establishment was formed in 1804, and kept up at the expense of the province until 1827 ; but in the latter year the British Government undertook to furnish a sum equal to that voted by the province, and the establishment has consequently been greatly enlarged, and its usefulness much increased. Its neces- ."'ity is sufficiently attested by the melancholy fact, that forty .essels were wrecked there in a few years, and in a single win- ter 20'"J people are stated to have perished on its coasts. The surface of the island (according to the statement furnished to Judge Haliburton) is undulating ; and the color is also very similar to that of the sea, from which it is not easily dis- tinguishable. Throughout its whole extent there is not a single tree or shrub, and the only productions to be found upon it are a strong, coarse grass, commonly known by the name of bent grass, or sea mat-weed, whortleberry and cranberry bushes. The grass is indigenous, and grows near the shore, or in low places ; and the cranberry bushes are confined to the deep hol- lows, which the violence of the wind has formed by scooping out the sand, and driving it into the sea. With these exceptions, the soil, if such it can be called, consists of a naked sand, which is easily acted upon by the tempest, and drifts like snow. In some places it has formed cqiiical hills, one of which is 100 feet high ; and, notwithstanding its exposure, and the looseness of its texture, continues to increase in bulk. After a gale of wind, human skelptons are sometimes exposed to view, and SABLE ISLAND. 4S timber and pieces of wreck are disinterred, which have been )uried for years. From an early period there appears to have been a herd of nld cattle upon it. The Portuguese were the* first who made this humane provision for the unfortunate, by landing some calves, which increased in a few years to such an extent as to induce unprincipled men to hunt for the sake of their hides and Itallow, and, in some instances, to remove them alive. The [disreputable nature of the employment, and the danger attend- jing a protracted visit to the island, were such, that they were (not exterminated for more than a century. After this, it was again stocked, but the cattle shared the same fate as those which [had previously been placed there. At a subsequent period, a French clergyman, at Boston, named Tje Mercier, who called himself an Englishmen by naturalization, sent cattle thither, and proposed to remove there himself. Among the records of the province, there is an application from him to Lieutenant- Governor Armstrong, at Annapolis, for a grant of the island, but as he declined to accept it on the terms proposed — of paying a quit-rent to the King — it was finally withheld. A proclama- tion, however, was issued by the governor, forbidding people to kill these animals, and they continued there for many years, but at what time they were destroyed,' and succeeded by the horses now upon it, is not known, nor is it ascertained whether the latter are the descendants of some sent there by him, or of others which have escaped from wrecks. Since the formation of the establishment, and the protection afforded them by it, they have greatly increased in number. They are small, but strong and active, and endure with surprising hardihood the inclemency of the weather in winter, without any other shelter than that afforded by the hillocks of sand. The south end of the island is their general resort, on account of the quantity of grass on its shores, and its remoteness from the house of the superintendent. They have increased beyond their means of subsistence, and although many are killed every year to supply fresh provisions for the crews of wrecks, who are detained there until an opportunity offers for conveying them to Nova Scotia, yet several of the aged and inlirni are genernlly found dead every spring. They are exceedingly wild, and it is no easy matter to approach within gunshot of them. As it is desirable that no ineffectual efforts should be made to shoot them, and that they should not be unnecessarily maimed or wounded, great care i« 44 THE COAL FIELDS OF NOVA SCOTIA. i\ i«C i v: f ,i ''■'■ . : f ii j'n « taken by the marksman to secrete himself in a suitable place until an animal approaches within a convenient distance, when one shot usually suffices to kill him. The young male horses are selected for slaughter, and are easily distinguished from the aged by their superior condition, and by the size of the mane, which, in the old horses, is of extreme length, reaching nearly to their knees. The meat is said to be tender, and by no means unpalatable. The island is also well stocked with English rab- bits, which make an agreeable variety in the food of the resi- dents. The nature of the soil is so peculiarly adapted to the habits of these animals, that they have multiplied astonishingly, and are prevented from becoming too numerous only by a similar increase of rats, the progeny of those that have escaped from wrecks. Great numbers of the latter perish in the course of the winter, and during the rainy weather of the spring and autumn. Until within the last fifteen years, there was a small herd of wild hogs, that became exceedingly fierce. The climate, how- ever, which had always restricted their increase, finally overcame them altogether, for the whole perished during an unusually severe winter. Since that time it has not been thought advis- able to renew this species of stock, which, considering the nature of the food that shipwrecks must sometimes have unfortunately furnished them, must always have been objects of horror and disgust. During the early part of the summer, gulls, ducks, divers, and other wild fowl, lay an immense quantity of eggs on the southern point, and a party from the house frequently sail up the lake, and fill their boat with them. At the approach of winter these birds migrate to the Continent. — Martui's British Colonies. THE COAL FIELDS OF NOVA SCOTIA. * Coal is one of the greatest treasures which the mineral world bestows upon man. The importance of Great Britain as the manufacturing power of the world is owing in no slight degree to the vast coal fields that keep her thousands of furnaces in full blp.8t. This valuable mineral is scattered widely over the earth's surface. Nearly every state in Europe rejoices in its own beds of coal ; it appears in India, China, and the islands of the Indian Ocean ; the African island of Madagascar is not destitute of it ; THE COAL frlELDS OF iJOVA SCOTIA* 45 iven in remote Australia it is to be found ; and in the southern jontinent of our western hemisphere, the Republic of Chili is the lappy possessor of coal measures. But nowhere is coal to be Found in greater quantity than in North America. In the Inited States the coal-fields extend from Michigan to Alabama, covering an area of nearly two hundred thousand square miles. )f greater interest to us, however, are the coal measures of our )wn country, which occur in Nova Scotia, Cape Breton, New Brunswick, and Prince Edward Island, and are supposed to jxtend as far as the Magdalen Islands. These extensive deposits )f coal cover an area of 36,000 square miles, affording an almost [inexhaustible supply of what has been fitly termed the sinews [of commercial prosperity. Although these coal-fields t*re spread over so large a part of the maritime provinces, they are generally [connected with the name of Nova Scotia, because in that province they are most conspicuous. Coal is not a stone in the same sense as limestone or granite [ are called stones. It consists almost entirely of carbon or char- coal, and represents the remains of vegetable life, that flourished hundreds of thousands of years ago. Geologists suppose that the great coal regions of Nova Scotia and the adjoining provinces were at one time immense swamps at the mouths of great rivers, which brought down in their course trunks of trees, and quan- tities of mud and sand, which mingled with, and overlaid, the aquatic plants growing in the swamps. The water plants and trees, decaying, furnished layers of coal, and the mud and sand constituted the shale and sandstone that lies between them. In order to illustrate this change. Sir Charles Lyell, the celebrated geologist, states that "whenever any part of a swamp in Louisiana is dried up, during an unusually hot season, and the wood set on fire, pits are burnt into the ground many feet deep," showing the combustible nature of deposits now going on. Such being the origin of coal, we should naturally expect to find some traces of vegetable organization in the structure of this mineral. These, however, are not visible, as everybody knows, in the majority of lumps of coal that fill our stoves and fire-places. But were we to visit a coal mine, our expectation would soon be realized. On the Chignecto Channel, a branch of the Bay of Fundy, in Nova Scotia, is a line of lofty cliffs, from 150 to 200 feet in height, called the South Joggins. The ap- pearance of these cliffs is of the most interesting character. Alternately with shales and sandstones, are to be seen the edges f.-'^l 4d DISCOVERY OP AMERICA. of numerous seams of coal, varying from two inches to four feet in thickness ; and, rooting in these seams, appear petrified trunks of trees, from eight to twenty-five feet in height. Year by year, the high tides of the Bay of Fundy, which rise more than sixty feet, undermine and wear away the face of the cliffs, revealing new speci- mens of fossil vegetation. In addition to the trunks and stumps of these trees, which are called Sigillaria, and are unlike any at pre- sent existing in the world, the coal measures of Nova Scotia and C^ ipe Breton al)Ound ii fossil Equisetanceae, the horse-tails or scour- ing rushes of our swai^^ps, and other remarkable trees and plants. Each of the layers or seams of coal indicates a distinct period of vegetable life. It has hence been concluded that no fewer than fifty-nil e great swamp-forests must have contributed to form the Sydney coal-field in C!a| Breton. We know, from observation, how slowly the formation of coal is going on at the pr'^sent day ; how great, therefore, must be the period of time that has elapsed since the first of these forests rose from the silent swamp, fell before the power of the watercourse, and be- came the foundation of fifty -eight successive beds, repeating the story of its own existence ! — Campbell's Fourth Reader. DISCOVERY OF AMERICA. Next morning, being Friday, the 3d day of August, in the year 1492, Columbus set sail, a little before sunrise, in presence of a vast crowd of spectators, who sent up their supplications to Heaven for the prosperous issue of the voyage, which mey wished rather than expgcteoT "" . *" As they proceeded, the indications of approj^ching land seemed to be more certain, and excited hope in proportion. The birds began to appear in flocks, makmg towards the south-west. Co- lumbus, in imitation of the Portuguese n avi gators, who had been guided in several of their discoveries by the motion of birds, altgred his course from diie_west towards that quarter whither they pointed their flight. But, after holding on for several days in this new direction without any better success than formerly, having seen no object during thirty days but the sea and the sky, the hopes of his companions subsided faster than they had risen ; their fears revived with additional force ; imp's^^ience, rage, and despair appeared in every countenance. All sense of subor- dination was lost. The officers, who fiad hitherto concurred with DISCOVERY OF AMERICA. 41 nches to four feet ar petrified trunks Year by year, the re than sixty feet, ivealing new speci- nks and stumps of unlike any at prs- ' Nova Scotia &xid orse-tails orscour- 3 trees and plants. a distinct period 3d that no fewer e contributed to We know, from 5 going on at the le period of time s rose from the ercourse, and be- ds, repeating the tTH Reader. just, in the year n presence of a supplications to hich they wished ing land seemed ion. The birds outh-west. Co- 5, who had been lotion of birds, luarter whither For several days than formerly, le sea and the than they had np'^ience, rage, sense of subor- concurred w^tk [Columbus in opinion; and supported his authority, now took [part with the prjyate men ; they assembled tumultuously ou the [deck, expostulated with their commander, mingled threats with Itiieir expostulations, and required him instantly to tack about, and return to Europe. Columbus perceived that it would be of [no avail to have recourse to any of his former arts, which, having been tried so often, had lost their effect ; and that it was impos- sible to rekindle any zeal for the success of the expedition among men in whose breasts fear had extinguished every generous senti- ment. He saw *hat it was no less vain to think of employing either gentle or severe measures to quell a mutiny so general and so violent. It was necessary, on all these accounts, to soothe passions which he could no longer command, and to give way to a torrent too impetuous to be checked. He promised solemnly to his men that he would comply with their request, provided they would accompany him and obey his command tor three days longer ; and if, during thai, time, land were not discovered, he would then abandon the enterprise and direct his course towards Spain. Eliraged as the sailors were, and impatient to turn their faces again towards their native country, this proposition did not ap- pear to them unreasonable ; nor did Columbus hazard much in confining himself to a term so short. The presages of discovering land were now so numerous and promising that he deemed them infallible. For some davs the sounding line reached the bottom, and the soil which it brought up indicated land to be at no great distance. The flocks of birds increased, and were composed not only of sea-fowls, but of such land birds as could not be supposed to fly far from the shore. The crew of the Pinta observed a cane floating, which seemed to have been newly cut, and likewise a piece of timber artificially carved. The sailors aboard the Nigna took up the branch of a tree with red berries perfectly fresh. The clouds around the setting sun assumed a new appearance ; the air was n)ore mild and warm; and during nigh the wind became unequal and variable. From all these symptoms, Columbus v.as so confident of being near land, that, on the evening of the 11th of October, after public prayers for success, he ordered the sails to be furled, and th( ships to lie to, keeping strict watch lest they should be driven ashore in the night. During this interval of suspense and expectation, no man shut his eyes ; all kept on deck, gazing intently towards that quarter where they expected to dis- cover laud, which had so long been the object of their wishes. About two hours before midnight, Columbus, standing on the iS^^^ 48 1)1SC0VEICY of AMERICA. M , , ;ttetown, and brought the prize and prisoners into the harbor w'aich they had fondly expected to enter as conquerors. Tee island of St. John has possessed a separate government of its own, having been separated in 1770 from Nova Scotia, to which it had been attached since 1763. In the yep.r 1799, when the population of the island was 5000, the Duke of Kent visited North America as commander-in-chief of the forces stationed in the different provinces. Feeling the inconvenience of a name common to the chief towns of Newfoundland and New Brunswick, the legislature of St. John altered the designation to Prince Edward, in compliment to the Duke of Kent, and father of her present gracious Majesty Queen Victoria. Since that time the Island of Prince Edward has made rapid, progress in material prosperity. Its population is now over 80,000. As an agricul- tural country it is unsurpassed ; and its fisheries and ship-building have long been carried on with great success. Like its sister provinces, it musters a considerable volunteer force, prepared, if need be, to do battle for the integrity of " this right little, tight little island." — Campbell's Fourth Reader. SHIP-BUILDIXG IN NEW BRUNSWICK. 65 SHIP-BUILDING IN NEW BRUNSWICK. Ship-building is, undoubtedly, the characteristic feature of the Province of New Brunswick. Nova Scotia possesses more ex- tensive < oal-fields ; jSTewfoundland excels in fisheries ; Prince Edwiird Island boasts a finer climate ; and the Canadas are no mean competitors in the grain and timber markets ; but in this important branch of industry New Brunswick takes the lead. The vast forests of this province present an almost inexhaustible supply of suitable materials for the construction of vessels of all dimensions, in the plantations of oak and elm, beech and maple, birch, ash, larch, and spruce trees, which they contain. So numerous are the rivers and streams, which form a net-work of navigation, as it were, over the country, that no Uliriculty is found in conveying the raw material to the busy ship-yards on the great rivers and along its many hundred miles of sea-board. The principal stations of this industrial art are the ports of St. John and Miramichi ; but almost as important are the numerous creeks and bays of the Bay of Fundy, the Straits of Northumberland, the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and the 4ii .0^. 66 gttHP-BUILDING IN NEW BRUNSWICK. Bay of Chaleur, in which, as well as along the banks of the larger rivers flowing into them, ship-building is extensively prosecuted. A large number of the vessels built in this province, from 100 to 150 annually, are employed in the coasting trade carried on by the provinces of British America between them- selves and with the United States ; in the seal, cod, and other fisheries of Newfoundland, Labrador, and their neighboring fishing-stations ; and in the transportation of timber to Great Britain. Many ships constructed in the New Brunswick yards, however, are of a far more ambitious character than these, and, like the famous Marco Polo, have been unsurpassed for beauty of form, for speed, and for durability. So high has the reputation of the ship-builders of New Brunswick risen, that their vessels are in great request even in England ; and an agent of Lloyd's, the celebrated English underwriting or Marine Insurance Establishment, resides permanently in the province, to watch over its shi[vbuilding interests. The most important kinds of timber used in this branch of industry are the black birch, a tall tree, with compact wood, very different from the white-barked varieties employed by the Indians in the construction of their canoes ; and the larch, or hackmatack, also known as the tamarack, — a graceful and valuable member of the pine family, generally found growing in swampy places. These woods are only made use of for the larger and more important classes of ships; to all inferior purposes the other varieties ai timber already specified are applied. The lofty white pine serves for masts, and the topmasts and yards are made of the black or double spruce. We may form an idea of the size of many of the vessels built at St. John, and other New Brunswick ports, from the fact that the 122 ships built in 1853 averaged 5So tons, or more than five times the dimensions of Sir Humphrey Gilbert's vessel, the Golden Hind. Ship-building in New Brunswick dates back to the year 1770, when one of the earliest settlers, named Jonathan Leavitt, launched a small schooner in the harbor of St. John, the pigmy ancestor of a numerous and giant })rogeny. This first attempt of the provincial ship carpenter was dignified with the name of " Monneguash " in honor of what is now St. John, that being the Indian designation of the peninsula upon which part of the city is situated* Three years afterwards, Miramichi began to THE SHIP-BUILDERS. 6T divide the honors of the craft, in the person of William Davidson, the first British settler upon the river, who built a vessel of considerable size, and christened her the " Miramichi,'* after her birth-place. Such were the first attempts at what is now a most important source of revenue to the country, and an occupation which affords employment to large numbers of intelligent and industrious men. The great progress made by New Brunswick in this art since the early period of its commencement, leads us to anticipate a mighty and prosperous future for ship-building interests in the province, and the ultimate formation of a British- American marine inferior only to that of the mother country. — Campbell's Fourth Reader. THE SHIP-BUILDERS. The sky is ruddy in the east, The earth is gray below, And, spectral in the river-mist. The ship's white timbers show. Then let the sounds of measured stroke And grating saw begin ; The broad axe to the gnarled oak, The mallet to the pin ! Hark ! roars the bellows, blast on blast, The sooty smithy jars, And fire-sparks, rising far and fast, Are fading with the stars. All day for us the smith shall stand Beside that flashing forge ; All day for us his heavy hand The groaning anvil scourge. From far-off hills, the panting team For us is toiling near ; For us the raftsmen down the stream Their island barges steer. Rings out for us the axe-man's stroke In forests old and still ; For us the century-circled oak Falls crashing down his hill. .68 THE SHIP-BUILDERS. Up ! up ! in nobler toils than ours ^o craftsman bears a part ; We make of nature's giant powers The slaves of human art. Lay rib to rib, and beam to beam, And drive the tree-nails free ; Nor faithless joint, nor yawning seam, Shall tempt the searching sea ! Where'er the keel of our good ship The sea's rough field shall plough — Where'er her tossing spars shall drip With salt-spray caught below — That ship must heed her master's beck, Her helm obey his hand, And seamen tread her reeling deck, As if they trod the land. Her oaken ribs the vulture-beak Of Northern ice may peel ; The sunken rock and cgral peak May grate along her keel ; And know we well the painted shell, We give to wind and wave, Must float, the sailor's citadel, Or sink, .the sailor's grave ! Ho ! strike away the bars and blocks. And set the good ship free ! Why lingers on these dusty rocks The young bride of the sea ? Look ! how she moves a-down the grooves, In graceful beauty now ! How lowly on the breast she loves Sinks down the virgin prow ! God bless her ! whereso'er the breeze Her snowy wing shall fan, Aside the frozen Hebrides, Or sultry Hindostan I Where' . - in mart or in the main, With peaceful flag unfurled,* She helps to wind the silken chain Of commerce round the world I ,,;! i- ■,'M'i' ■i m FIRE IN THE WOODS. 69 Speed on the ship ! but let her bear No merchandise of sin, No groaning cargo of despair Her roomy hold within. No Lethean drug for Eastern lands, Nor poison-draught for ours ; But honest fruits of toiling hands, And nature's sun and showers ! Be hers the prairie's golden grain, The desert's golden sand, The clustered fruits of sunny Spain, The spice of morning-land ! Her pathway on the open main, May blessings follow free. And glad hearts welcome back again Her white sails from the sea. n^o-lW5^ ')^,,^'U^,i J. G. Whittier. I'^ol " FIRE IN THE WOODS. i I CAN conceive of nothing in this world more awful than one of those fires, which have frequently rushed through forests in North America, with more fearful rapidity and destructive fury than any lava-stream that ever poured from the fiercest volcano. The first time I ever saw the traces of such a con- flagration was in Nova Scotia, between Halifax and Truro, on the road to Pictou. The driver of the stage — and a better or merrier never mounted a box, or guided a team through mud and over corduroy — pointed out to me the spot, in which he and his charge had a most narrow escape. While pursuing his journey along one of these forest roads, ramparted on each side by tall trees that show but a narrow strip of blue sky overhead, he found himself involved in volumes of smoke bursting from the woods. It did not require the experience of an inhabitant of the great Western Continent to reveal to h' instantly his terrible position. The woods were on fire ! fc- : whether the fire Was far off -or near he could not tell. If far off, he knew TO FIRE IN THE WOODS. mi ''mi' if it was making towards him with the speed of a race-horse ; if near, a few moments must involve him in the conflagration. Suddenly the fire burst before him ! It was crossing the road, and forming a canopy overhead ; sending long tongues of flame, with wreaths of smoke, from one tree-top to another ; cracking and roaring as it sped upon its devouring path ; licking up the tufted heads of the pines, while the wind hurled them onward to extend the conflagration. What was to be done ? To retreat was useless. Miles of forest were behind ready to be consumed. There was one hope only of escape. Nathan had heard, in the morning, a report that a mill had been burnt. The spot where it stood was about six hundred yards ahead. He argued, that the fire having been there, and consumed every thing, could not again have visited the same place. He determined to make a desperate rush through fire and smoke to reach the clearance. The conflagration was as yet above him like a glowing arch, though it had partially extended to the ground on either side. He had six horses, to be sure, tired animals, who knew his voice, and whom he seemed to love as friends ; but such a coach ! — lumbering and springless, and full of passengers, too, chiefly ladies ; and such roads ! — a combination of trunks of trees buried in thick mud. But on he must go, or perish. Bending his head down, blind, hardly able to breathe, lashing his horses, and shoutmg to the trembling, terrified creatures, and while the ladies screamed in agony of fear, Nathan went plunging and tossing through the terrific scene! A few minutes more, and there is no hope, for the coach is scorched, and about to take fire ; and the horses are getting unmanageable ! Another desperate rush — he has reached the clearance, and there is the mill, a mass of charred wood, surrounded by a forest of ebony trunks growing out of charred earth ; the fire has passed, and Nathan is safe ! " Oh ! sir," he said, " it was frightful ! Think only if a horse had stumbled or fallen ! or had the fire caught us further back ! — five minutes more would have done it, sir ! " That same fire consumed a space of forest ten miles long and three broad. But what is such a fire, even, to the memorable one which devastated Miramichi, in New Brunswick, about twenty-five years ago ! That terrible conflagration is unparalleled iu the history of consumed forests. It broke out on the 7th October, 1825, about sixty miles above the town of Newcastle, at one in the afternoon, and before ten the same night it had reached PIEE IN THE WOODS. 7t race-horse ; if conflagration, ising the road, gues of flame, her; cracking licking up the them onward '^ To retreat ) be consumed. 1 heard, in the he spot where e argued, that ling, could not ed to make a the clearance, glowing arch, n either side, new his voice, h a coach ! — s, too, chiefly 'f trees buried I Bending his is horses, and id while the plunging and es more, and ibout to take le ! Another I there is the 'est of ebony 1 passed, and ;ful ! Think ire caught us 3ne it, sir I " les long and ' one which twenty-five leled in the J'th October, istle, at one had reached twenty miles beyond ; thus traversing, in nine hours, a distance of eighty miles of forest, with a breadth of about twenty-five ! Over this great tract of country everything was destroyed ; one hundred and sixty persons perished ; not a tree was left ; the very fish in the streams were scorched, and found afterwards lying dead in heaps. The morning of that dreadful day was calm and sultry ; but, in fin instant, smoke swept over the town of Newcastle (situated on the river Miramichi), which turned day into night. The darkness was so unexpected — so sudden — so profound — that many cried that the Judgment had come. But soon the true cause was suspected. Suspicions were speedily followed by certainty, as the flames were seen bursting through the gloom. Every one made for the river ; some got into boats moored near the beach, some on rafts of timber, while others stood in the water. Terrified mothers with their families ; decrepid old men and women ; and, worse than all, the sick and dying, were» hurried, in despairing crowds, to the stream, to escape the flames which were already devouring their houses, and making a bon- fire of the thriving town. Each succeeding hour added some new horror to the scene. The rarefaction and exhaustion of the air by the intense heat over so great a space caused, as was supposed, such a rush of cold air from the ocean, that a hurricane rushed in fury along the rivc^r, tearing burning trees up by the roots, hurling flaming branches through the air for five or six miles (which set fire to the shipping, and to the woods on the other side of the boat stream), causing at the same time such a rolling sea up the river as threatened to swamp the boats, and sweep the miserable refugees from the rafts ! It seems incredible — but we believe there is no doubt as to the fact — that the ashes of the fire fell thick on the streets of Halifax, St. John's, Newfoundland, and Quebec; and that some were carried as far as the Bermudas, while the smoke darkened the air hundreds of miles off ! That terrible night is fresh in the memory of all who endured its horrors. One of my informants, speaking of it, said, " No language can describe it! I do not think I shall see anything like it again in this world, or until the last day ! I was in a druggist's shop, getting medicme for my wife, who was confined to the bed with a fever. The druggist was pouring a few drops into a phial, when literally, in a twinkling of an eye, it became so dark that he could not see to drop the medicine, and I could not see his face I 72 FIHE IN THE WOODS. ■1 * The last day has come ! ' we both excluimed. I left the shop to go home ; but it was so pitch-dark that I could not see the road, and had to walk in the ditch which bordered it. Guided by the paling, and assisted by a friend, I got my wife and children to the river, and placed them on the raft ; and what a scene ! — what crying and weeping of those whose relations lived in the settlements further back, pnd for whom they knew there was now no escape ! But there is no use talking abouc it. No tongue can find words to picture that night ! Fire and smoke, wind and water, all spending their utmost fury ; the children crying — the timid screaming — the sick in misery — the brave at their wit's end — aad all knowing, too, that we had lost many friends, and all our property. I shudder to think of it.' That fire has left singular traces of its journey. The road from Newcastle to Bathurst, near the Bay of Chaleur, passes for five or six miles through a district called the Barrens. The scene which meets the eye of the traveller is, perhaps, unequalled. Far as the eye can reach, upon every side, there is nothing but desolation. The forest extends, as it has done for ages, across plains, and vanishes over the undulating hills which bound the distant horizon But while all the trees, with most of their branches, remain, spring extracts no ^ ud from them nor does summer clothe even a twig with foliag' All is a barren waste. The trees are not black now, but w ite and bleached by sun and rain ; and far to the horizon, round and round, nothing is discerned but one vast and apparently boundless forest of the white skeleton trunks of dead, leafless trees ! That immense tract is doomed to remain barren, perhaps, forever — at least, for many long years to come. l*t is avoided by the emigrant, — nay, the very birds and wild beasts seem to have forever deserted it. The trees would not, in a country of forest, pay the expenses of cutting them down for fire wood, even were the chopping process of half-burnt trunks less difficult and disagreeable than it is ; while the land has become so scourged by the exuberant crop of various plants vvhich grow up in such soil, when cleared by a fire, as to be comparatively useless in a colony of countless acres yet untouched by the plough of the settler. Though no such fire as that which devasted Miramichi ever visited any of our colonies before or since, yet partial fires are very common. I saw a very respectable Scotch emigrant in Prince Edward Island, whose house was suddenly caught by A AUTUMN WOODS. T8 one of those dreadful visitations, and two interesting daughtejN were burnt alive, before their father, who escaped, could warn them of their danger. — Norman Macleod, D.D. . AUTUMN WOODS. Ere in the northerit-^ale The summer tresses of the trees are gone, The WQods'of autumn, all around our vale, Have put their glory on. The mountains that unfold, In their wide sweep, the colored landscape round, Seem groups of giant kings in purple and gold, That guard the enchantment ground. I roam the woods that crown The upland, where the mingled splendors g^ow, Where the gay company of trees look down On the green fields below. My steps are not alone In these bright walks ; the sweet south-west, at play, Flies, rustling, where the painted leaves are strewn Alon/T the winding way. And far in heaven, the while. ^ The sun that sends the gale to wander here, Pours out on the fair earth his quiet smile — The sweetest of the year. O Autumn ! why so soon Depart the hues that make thy forests glad ? Thy gentle w .id and thy fair sunny noon, And leave thee wild and sad. yi^if.^^ u THE lAzARET > AT rKA^ADIl!. Ah, 'twere a lot too hie.' 'i<, For ever in thy colored shades to stray ; Amidst the kisses of the soft south-west To rove and dream for aye ; And leave the vain low stnfo That makes men mad, the tug for we :Ith and power, The passions and the cures that wither life, And waste its little hour. Bryant. THE LAZARETTO AT TRACADIE. Theke is an obscure and doubtful story that, some eighty or a hundred years ago, a French ship .v^a ■ wrecked on the shore of the county of Gloucester or Northamberland, and that some of those who escaped from the crew were sailors of Marseilles, who Lad caught in the Levant the true eastern leprcsy, the terrible Mephantiasis Grcecorum. However this may be, there is no doubt that, for many years prist, a [wrtion of the French popula- tion of these counties has been afflicted with this fearful malady — or one closely allied to it — probably that form of leprosy which is known to ^~"^ vail upon th turbid sea, which at the time of my visit, was unenlivened by a single sail ; on the other lies a monotonous stretch of bare, THE LAZAEETTO AT TRACADIK. cleaiod land, only relieved by the ugly church and mean woode.i houses of a North American village. The outer enclosure of the lazaretto consists of a gr^: ; fieioi, containing some three or four acres of land. With) tli'^rt- limits the lepers are now allowed to roam at will. Untii i^^tc!/, however, they were confined to the much narrower bound , of a smaller enclosure, in the centre of the large one, and containing the buildings of the hospital itself. Into their dismal precincts I entered, accompanied by the Roman Catholic Bishop of Chatham, the Secretary to the Board of health, the resident physician, and the Roman Catholic priest of the village, who acts as chaplain to the hospital. Within the inner enclosure are several small wooden buildings detached from each other, comprising the kitchen, laundry, &c., of the establishment ; one of these edifices, but newly com- pleted, is furnished with a bath — a great addition to the comfort of the unhappy inmates. The hospital itself is a building con- taining two large rooms ; the one devoted to the male, and the other to the female patients. In the centre of each room is a stove and table, with a few benches and stools, whilst the beds of the patients are ranged along the walls. These rooms are sufficiently light and well ventilated, and, at the time of ray visit, were perfectly clean and neat. In the rear of these rooms is a small chaj '1, so arranged that a window, obliquely traversing the wall on each side of the partition, which aividen '-le two rooms, enables the patients of either sex to vk' .^sm ue cele- bration of mass without meeting Through th same apertures confessions are received. I may here romark h* w c ''ious an illustration is thus afforded to architectural students of the object of these low skew windo >, often found in iLo chancels of ancient churches. In a remote corner of North America, in a new wooden building of n odern date, erected by men who never saw a mediieval church, or possess the least acquaintance with Gothic architecture, convenience has suggested an arrange- ment precisely similar to that which has long puzzled the anti- quarian? and architects of Europe. At the time of my visit there were twenty-three patients in the lazaretto, thirteen males and ten females, ail oi whom were French Roman Catholici*, belonging to families of the lowest class. They were of all ages, and suffering from every stage of the disease. One old man, nhose features were so disfigured as to be barely human, and who appeared in the extremity of 76 LEFT ASHORE ON ANTICOSTL 'Xi..'- ' if 5'^ dotage, could hardly be roused from his iipathy sufficiently to receive the Bishop's blessing, which was eagerly sought on their knees by the others, But there were also young men, whose arms seemed as strong, and their powers of work and of enjoyment as unimpaired, as they had ever been ; and — saddest sight of all — there were young children condemned to pass here a life of hopeless misery. I was especially touched by the appearance of three poor boys, between the ages of fifteen and eleven years To the ordinary observer they were like other lads — bnght-eyed and intelligent enough ; but the fatal marks which sufficed to separate them from the outer world were upon them, and they were now shut up forever within the walls of the lazaretto. An impression similar in kind, though feebler in degree, is produced by the sight of all the younger patients. There is something appalling in the thought that, from the time of his arrival until his death, a period of, perhaps, many long years, a man, though endowed with the capacities, the passions, and the desires of other men, is condemned to pass from youth to middle life, and from middle life to old age, with no society but that of his fellow-sufferers, with no employment, no amusement, no resource ; with nothing to mark his hours but the arrival of some fresh victim; wdth nothing to do except to watch his com- panions slowly dying around him. Hardly any of the patients could read, and those who could had no books. No provision seemed to be made to furnish them with any occupation, either bodily or mental, and, under these circumstances, I was not surprised to learn that, in the later stages of the disease, the mind generally became enfeebled. — Governor Gordon's "Wilderness Journeys in .New Brunswick,'.'* ^ f. . . H'^' LEFT ASHORE ON ANTICOSTL At last ilih boat was lowered, and Halkett and three others, descending noiselessly, motioned to me to follow. I stepped boldly over the side, and waving a last good-bye to those above, sat down in the stern to steer, as I was directed. It was a calm night, with nothing of a sea, save that rolling heave ever present in the Gulf of St. Lawrence ; and now the men stretched LEFT ASHORE OX ANTICOSTI. 7T younff men. to their oars and we darted swiftly on, not a word breaking the deep stillness. Althou <^ '/, / f^> Hiotographic Sciences Corporation ^ 4h \ c\ \ 4^. 23 wtST Main strut WIBSTH.N.Y. MSM (716) •73-4503 4^ \ 82 LABBADOR AND OTHER TfiAS. to the buckthorn family, of which certain species are also used in Abyssinia and among the poorer classes in China, as substi- tutes for the genuine tea-plant. It is to be found growing abundantly in the temperate regions of British America, and in the north of the Uniteid States. A short time ago, a speculator announced «that he had succeeded in growing the Chinese tea plant in Pennsylvania, and sold large qiibntities of native grown American teas, which turned out to be nothing more than the old Revolutionary substitute, or New Jersey tea. Turning to the Southern Continent, we find at least two of the peoples inhabiting it provided with similar substitutes. In Brazil, two plants belonging to the verbena family are made use of sometimes to adulterate Chinese tea, but more frequently to usurp its place altogether. One of these is sold very ex- tensively in the Austrian dominions, under the name of Brazilian tea; the other is highly esteemed by the South American people. But a still greater favorite, and more extensively used shrub, is a member of the holly family, closely connected with the Prinos glabra of North America. It is known by the name of mate, and flourishes in the republic of Paraguay, whence it is called Paraguay tea. Even in the Eastern Hemisphere, the Chinese shrub is not allowed to have it all its own way. The Malays of Sumatra and the other islands of the Eastern Archipelago, as well as the Australians, employ the leaves of certain trees of the myrtle family, one of which *hey call " The tree of long life," in the same manner as more civilized peoples their pounds of tea and coffee. In Japan also, there grows a species of hydrangea, the leaves of which afford 80 excellent a decoction tha^ the enthusiastic Japanese call it atrM'tsja, or the tea of heaven. It would hardly be fair to dismiss the tea-plants without a notice of the famous one of China, which has held its place in spite of all opposition, and seems likely to outlive all the substitutes that have been proposed for it. The tea of commerce is derived from three species of a genus or kind of plants called thea, belonging to the same family as the beautiful camelias of the greenhouse. There are cultivated very extensively, and with the greatest care, in many parts of the vast Chinese empire ; after an interesting process of drying and curing, the leaves are packed in wooden boxes, and sent in immense quantities to every quarter of the globe, to refresh and invigorate the world's nitons of tea-drinkers. — Campbell's Fourth Readek. StOBY OI* WAPWTAlir. 88 STORY OF WAPWIAN. Well do I remember the first time I stumbled upon the Indian village in which he lived. I had set out from Montreal with two trappers to pay a visit to the Labrador coast ; we had travelled most of the *way in a small Indian canoe, coasting along the northern shore of the gulf of St. Lawrence, and reconnoitring in the woods for portages to avoid rounding long ' capes and points of land, and sometimes in search of game — ' for we depended almost entirely on our guns for food. " It was upon one of the latter occasions that I went off accompanied by one of the trappers, while the other remained to watch the canoe, and prepare our encampment for the night. We were unsuccessful, and after a long walk thought of return- ing to our camp empty-handed, when a loud whirling sound in the bushes attracted our attention, and two partridges perched upon a tree quite near us. We shot them, and fixing them in our belts, retraced our way towards the coast with lighter hearts. Just as we emerged from the den je forest, however, on one side of an open space, a tall muscular Indian strode from among the bushes, and stood before us. He was dressed in the blanket capote, cloth leggings, and scarlet cap usually worn by the Abena- kies, and other tribes of the Labrador coast. A red deerskin shot-pouch, and a powder-horn, hung round his neck and at his side were a beautifully-ornamented fire-bag and a scalping-knife. A common gun lay in the hollow of his left arm, and a pair of ornamental moccasins covered his feet. He was, indeed, a handsome-looking fellow, as he stood scanning us rapidly with his jet-black eyes while we approached him. We accosted him and informed him (for he understood a little French) w(iencc wo came, and our object in visiting his part of the country. He received our advances kindly, accepted a piece of tobacco that we offered him, and told us that his name was Wapwian, and that we were welcome to remain at his village — to which he offered to conduct us — as long as we pleased. After a little hesitation, we accepted his invitation to remain a few days ; the more so as by so doing, we would have an opportunity of getting some provisions to enable us to continue our journey. In half an hour we reached the brow of a small eminence, whence the curling smoke of the wigwams was visible. The tents we pitched on the shores of a small bay or inlet, guarded from thQ 84 STOEt 01* WAPWIAK. east wind by a high precipice of rugged rocks, around which hundreds of sea fowl sailed in graceful flights. Beyond this headland stretched the majestic Gulf of St. Lawrence ; while to the left of the village was shaded by the spruce fir, of which most of this part of the forest is composed. There were in all about a dozen tents, made of dressed deerskin, at the openings of which might be seen groups of little children, playing on the grass, or running after their mothers as they went to the neigh-, boring rivulet for water, or launched their canoes to examine the nets in the bay. '• Wapwiiin paused to gaze an instant on the scene and then descending the hill with rapid strides, entered the village, anO .despatched a little boy for our companion in the encampment. " We were ushered into a tent somewhat elevated above the oth ?rs, and soon were reclining on a sofa full of pine branches, smoking in company with our friend Wapwian, while his pretty little squaw prepared a kettle of fish for supper. " We spent two happy days in the village — hunting deer with our Indian friend and assisting the squaws in their fishing operations. On the third morning we remained in the camp to dry the venLson and prepare for our departure ; the while Wapwian shouldered his gun, and calling to his nephew, a slim, active youth of eighteen, bade him follow with his gun, as he intended to bring back a few ducks for his white brothers. '* The two Indians proceeded for a time along the shore, and then striking off into the forest, threaded their way among the thick bushes, in the direction of a chain of small lakes where wild fowl were numerous. '' For some time they moved rapidly along under the sombre shade of the trees, casting from time to time sharp glances into the surrounding underwood. Suddenly the elderly Indian paused and threw forward his gun, as a slight i ustling in the bushes struck his ear. The boughs bent and crackled a few yards in advance, and a large black bear crossed the path and entered the underwood on the other side. Wapwian fired at him instantly, and a savage growl told that the shot had taken effect. The gun, however, had been loaded with small shot ; and although when he fired the bear was only a few yards off, yet the improbability of its having wounded him badly, and the distance they had to go ere they reached the lakee, inclined him to give up the chase. While Wapwian was loading his gun, Miniquan (his nephew) had been examining the bear's track, STORY OF WAPWIAN. H and returned, saying that he was sure the animal must be badly wounded, for there was much blood on the track. At first the elder Indian refused to follow it ; but seeing that his nephew wished very much to kill the brute, he at last consented. As the trail of the bear was much covered with blood, they found no difficulty in tracking it ; and after a short walk they found him extended on one side at the foot of a large tree apparently lifeless. Wapwian, however, was too experienced a hunter to trust himself incautiously within its reach ; so he examined the_ priming of his gun, and then, advancing slowly to the animal, pushed it with the muzzle. In an instant the bear sprang upon him regardless of the shot lodged m its breast, and in another moment Wapwian lay stunned and bleeding at the monster's feet. Miniquan was at first so thunderstruck, as he gazed in horror at the savage animal tearing with bloody jaws the sense- less form of his uncle, that he stood rooted to the ground. It was only for a moment — the next, his gun was at his shoulder, and afte^ firing at, but unfortunately, in the excitement of the- moment, missing the bear, he attacked it with the butt of his gun, which he soon shivered to pieces on its skull. This drew the animal for a few moments from Wapwian ; and Mini- quan, in hopes of leading it from the place, ran off in the direction of the village. The bear, however, soon gave up the chase, and returned again to its victim. Miniquan now saw that the only chance of saving his relative was to alarm the village ; so tightening his belt, he set off with the speed of a hunted deer in the direction of the camp. In an incredibly " short time he arrived, and soon returned with the trappers and myself. Alas ! alas ! it was too late. Upon arriving at the spot we found the bear quite dead, and the noble, generous- Wapwian, extended by its side, torn and lacerated in such a manner that we could scarcely recognize him. He still breathed a little, however, and appeared to know me, as I bent over him and tried to close his gaping wounds. We constructed a rude couch of branches, and conveyed him slowly to the village. No word of complaint, or cry of sorrow, escaped from his wife *" as we laid his bleeding form in her tent. She seemed to have lost the power of speech, as she sat hour after hour, gazing in unutterable despair on the mangled form of her husband. Poor Wapwian lingered for a week in a state of unconsciousness. His skull had been fractured, and he lay almost in a state of insensibility, and never spoke, save when, in a fit of deliriuu, m THE MAPLE. his fancy wandered back to bygone days, when he ranged the forest with a tiny bow in chase of little birds and squirrels, strode in the vigor of manhood over frozen plains of snow, or dashed down foaming currents and mighty rivers in his light canoe. Then a shade would cros3 his brow as he thought, perhaps, of bis recent struggle with the bear, and he would again rekpse into silence. ** He recovered slightly before his death; and once he snxiled, as he recognized his wife, but he never spoke to any one. We scarcely knew when his spirit fled, so calm and peaceful was his end. <^ His body now reposes beneath the spreading branches of a lordly pine, near the scenes of his childhood : where he had spent his youth, and where he met his untimely end." — Ballan- tyne's Hudson's Bay. v THE MAPLE. All hail to the broad-leaved Maple With its fair and changeful dress— A type of our young country In its pride and loveliness ; Whether in Spring or Summer, Or in the dreary Fall, *Mid Nature's forest children, She's fairest of them all. Down sunny slopes and valleys Her graceful form is seen, Her wide, umbrageous branches^ The sun -burnt reaper screen ; *Mid the dark-browed firs and cedars Her livelier colors shine, Like the dawn of a brighter future On the settler's hut of pine. She crowns the pleasant hill-top, Whispers on breezy downs, And casts refreshing shadows O'er the streets of our busy towns ; THE MAPLE. 8T She gladdens the aching eye-ball, Shelters the weary head, And scatters her crimson glories On the graves of the silent dead. When Winter's frosts are yielding To the sun's returning sway, And merry groups are speeding To sugar-woods away ; The sweet and welling juices, Which form their welcome spoil, Tell of the teeming plenty, Which here waits honest toil. When sweet-toned Spring, soft-breathing, Breaks Nature's icy sleep, And the forest boughs are swaying Like the green waves of the deep ; In her fair and budding beauty, A fitting emblem she Of this our land of promise, « Of hope, of liberty. And when her leaves all crimson. Droop silently and fall, Like drops of life-blood welling From a warrior brave and tall ; They tell how fast and freely Would her children's blood be shed, Ere the soil of our faith and freedom Should echo a foeman's tread. Then hail to the broad-leaved Maple ! With her fair and changeful dress — A type of our youthful country In its pride and loveliness ; Whether in Spring or Summer, Or in the dreary Fall, 'Mid Nature's forest children, $)be'9 fairest of them all. Rsv. H. F. DasneiiL* m DEATH OF MONTCAI^. DEATH OF MONTCALM. A DEATH no less glorious closed the career of the brave Marquis de Montcalm, who conimanded the French army. He was several years older than Wolfe, and had served his king with honor and success in Italy, Germany, and Bohemia. In the earlier campaigns of this war he had given signal proofs of zeal, consummate prudence, and undaunted valor. A» the capture of Oswego he had with his own hand, wrested a color from the hand of an English officer, and sent it to be hung up in the Cathedral of Quebec. *He had deprived the English of Fort William Henry ; and had defeated General Abercrombie at Ticonderoga. He had even foiled Wolfe himself at Montmo- renci ; and had erected lines which it was impossible to force. When, therefore, he entered the Plains of Abraham at the head of a victorious army, he was in all respects an antagonist worthy of the British Genera!. The intelligence of the unexpected landing of Wolfe above the town was first conveyed to the Marquis de Vaudreuil, the Governor-General, about day-break. By him it was communi- cated without delay to Montcalm. Nothing could exceed the astonishment of the latter at .the intelli^^ence — he refused at first to give credence to it, obf er zing, "It is only Mr. Wolfe, with a small party, come to burn .^ few houses, look about him and return." On being informed, however, that Wolfe was at that moment in possession of the I'lains of Abraham, — " Then," said he, " they have at last got to the weak side of this miserable •garrison. Therefore we must endeavor to crush them by our numbers, and scalp them all before twelve o*clock. He issued immediate orders to break up the camp, and led a considerable portion of the army across the River St. Charles, in order to place them between the city and the English. Vaudreuil, on quitting the lines at Beauport, gaviB orders to the rest of the troops to follow him. On his arrival at the Plains, however he met the French army in full flight towards the bridge of boats ; and learned that Montcalm had been dangerously wounded. In vain he attempted to rally them — tho rout was general — a^d all hopes of retrieving the day, and of saving the honor of Fiance, were abandoned. Montcalm was first wounded by a musket shot, %hiiii^M^ jyjie front lank of the Frencn left — and afterwards by a Irdm the only gun in the possessiou of the English. DEATH OF MONTCALM. 89 then on horseback, directing the reireat — nor did \ke dismount until he had taken every measure to insure the safety of the retrains of his army. Such was the impetuosity with which the Highlanders, supported by the d8th Regiment, pressed the rear of the fugitives — having thrown away their muskets and taken to their broadswords — that had the distance been greater from the field of battle to the walls, the whole French arm}' ^ould inevitably havf. been destroyed. As it was, the • troops of the line had been almost cut to pieces when their pursuers were forced to retire by the fire from the ramparts. Great numbers were killed in the retreat, which was made obliquely from the Iliver St. Lawrence to the St. Charles. Some severe |^hting took place in the field in front of the martello tower. No. '2. We are informed by an ofRcer of the garrison, that on digging there some years ago, a number of skeletons were found with parts of soldiers' dress, military buttons, buckles, and other remains.-^ it is reported of Montcalm, when his wounds were dressed, that he requested the surgeons in attendance to declare at once whether they were mortal. On being told that they were so, — " I am glad of it," — said he. He then inquired how long he might survive. He was answered,—** Ten or ^twelve hours ; perhaps less." — " So much the better," — replied he, — " then I shall not live to see the surrender of Quebec" On being afterwards visited by M. de Ramesay, who commanded the garrison, with the title of LietUetzant du Roiy and by the Commandant de Roussillon, he said to them, — " Gentlemen, I commend to your keeping the honor of France. Endeavor to secure the retreat of my army to-night beyond Cape Rouge ; for myself, I shall pass the ni^t with God, and prepare myself for death." On M. de Ramesay pressing to receive his commands respecting the defence of Quebec, Montcalm exclaimed with emotion, — " I will neither give ojxlers, nor interfere any further : I have much business that must be attended to, of greater moment than your ruined garrison and this wretched country. — My time is very short — so pray leave me. — I wish you all comfort, and to be happily extricated from your present perplexities." He then addressed himself to his religion? duties, and passed the night with the Bishop and his own confessor. Before he died, he paid the .victorious a|p^ Ulis magnanimous compliment : — " Since it was my mis- fodame to be discomfited and mortally wounded, it is si great OCMWOlatioti to me to Vd vanquished by so brave and generous -^dBfci.-:,: 90 LINES ON THE DEATH OF WOLFE. an enemy. If I could survive this wound, I would engage to beat three times the number of such troops as I commanded this morning, with a third of British troops. Almost his last act was to write a letter, recommending the French prisoners to the generosity of the victors. He died at five o'clock in the morning of the 14th September; and was buried in an excavation, made by the bursting of a shell within the precincts of the Ursuline Convent — a fit resting-place- for the remains of a man who died fighting for the honor and defence of his country. — Ficture of Quebec. LINES ON THE DEATH OF WOLFE. Amidst the clamor of exulting joys, Which triumph forces from the patriot heart. Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice, And quells the raptures which from pleasure start. Wolfe, to thee* a streaming flood of woe, Sighing we pay, and think e'en conquest dear ; Quebec in vain shall teach our breast to glow, Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear. Alive, the foe thy dreadful vigor fled. And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes ; Yet they shall knc w thou conquerest, though dead, Since froai thy tomb a thousand heroes rise. . 'C-U4tvv4>UU?aW.'" 4^^^>^ Goldsmith. • THE RIVER ST. LAWRENCE. *^^T^'^ The noble river which Cartier was thus the first to explore, iSi unique in its peculiarities, and perhaps unequalled by any other in the world. The magnificent lakes, or rather inland seas of which it is the outlet, which maintain the even and unvarying flow of its majestic current, are assumed, upon solid grounds, to contf^in half the fresh wat^r on this pla»et« The quantity THE RIVER ST. LAWRENCE. 91 discharged hourly by this amazing flood is estimated at 1,672,704,000 cubic feet. Its basin is divided*into three parts, the higher being occupied by Lake Superior, three hundred miles in length, and receiving more than fifty rivers. Through the falls of St. Mary, the whole of its waters pours into the Lakes Michigan and Huron, of scarcely inferior dimensions. The' almost unfathomable depths of these lakes is a most interesting phenomenon in physical geography. Though the surface of the two lower is 618 feet above the Atlantic level, their bottoms are nearly 300 feet below it. By the straits of Detroit, these upper lakes pour down into the basin of Lake Erie, which is 230 miles in length. The narrow strait, — where the whole of this immense body rolls for ever in its restless might over the sublime cliffs of Niagara, and then forms for several miles of swift descent one continuous and terrific rapid, one whirl of foam and terror, through the profound and narrow chain which it has excavated in t^'s course of ages, — is altogether unequalled in its fearful sublimity upon our glol)e. By this channel, it descends to the level of Lake Ontario, the last and lowest of' these inland seas, 200 miles long by 70 broad. The river, as it flows out of the lake, varies from two to ten miles wide, and is divided into numerous channels of every width, as it passes through the " Thousand Isles." These are of every size and form, and for the most part in a state of primeval nature, forming a scene of soft and romantic beauty, of dreamy, fairy strangeness— of fantastic intricacy, in striking contrast to the terrific grandeur of Niagara. Hurrying on, with its burden of timber-rafts, over the tremendous rapids of the Long Sault and La Chine (which interruptions are sur- mounted by ship canals), it is increased by the influx of the romantic Ottawa, and flows 'past the city of Montreal, the growing emporium of Canada, receiving, as it proceeds on its course, the waters of Lakes George and Champlain, to expand at length, in all its glory, beneath the crested crags of Quebec. To this city, the great timber depot, it is 550 miles from the sea, navigable for ships of the line of the first-class, while vessels of considerable size ascend to Montreal, which is upwards of 730 miles above the Gulf of the St. Lawrence. The whole of this stupendous basin (which, when Cartier first' entered it, was the haunt of the roaming savage) is fast filling up and becoming the seat of a mighty nation. But three cen- tunes sinc^ it was discovered, — how much of romantic incidenti 98 THS BIVSB ST. LAWRS^iTGE. of momentous change, of astonishing progress, has filled up the short but eventful period! Upon tliese lakes, then fikimmed only bj the wandering canoe, hc.tile fleets have been built, and have contended in deadly conflict. On one of it8 shores, feeble colonies have sprung up into un independent nation, rivalling 'in power the proudest states of the Old World. Populous cities adorn the banks of these great inland waters, and splendid steam-boate connect their remotest extremities. Canals have been cut to overcome the occasional obstacles presented by nature, and a chain of internal water communication, extending from the Atlantic many hundreds of miles into the heart of this mighty continent, serves as a highway for the countless emigrants who are continually pouring into it from all the nations of the civilized world. There are some striking peculiarities in the St. Lawrence, as contrasted with its great rival, the Mississippi. The former is us limpid in its waters, and as unalterable in their level, as the latter is turbid, and with its swelling inundations overflows its banks for miles round. The St. Lawrence is magnificently beautiful ; the grandeur of the Mississippi is gloomy and oppres- sive. It is in moral keeping with this physical contrast that the banks of the St. Lawrence have been settled by freemen alone, and have never echoed, like those of the Mississippi, to the lash of the slave-master, or the groan of the captive; but many a hunted fugitive from the southern strongholds of slavery, as he has passed its broad stream and felt himself on British ground, has blessed his God who has enabled him to reach an asylum of liberty. No river can exhibit a greater variety of scenery ; — here the calm and grassy expanse, studded with verdurous islands, there, wild and tumultuous rapids with .the immense rafts that hurry down their foaming waters. Sometimes for miles, all is the unbroken solitude of primeval nature ; the canoe of the Indian is still seen paddling from shore to shore, his bark wigwam still glimmers amid the dusky shades of the forest; and then succeeds the pleasant, quaint, white village of the French settlers, with its antique vanes, and spire, and cross. What more picturesque than old Quebec, with its rock-built citadel, and antiquated buildings ? Nor is there in the New World any river with such stirring, though often painful associations, as the St. Lawrence. The devotedness of the first Catholic mk- iiooaries, who counted not their lives dear in planting the cfim JACQUES CARTtER AT HOCHELAOA. OS among the Indian savages : their triaU and their martyrdom ; together with the warlike feats of Wolfe, and Montcalm, and Montgomery, have thrown over its banks a troubled bat romantic halo. — London Journal. JACQUES CARTIER AT HOCIIELAGA. On the 19th of September, 1535, Cartler commenced his voyage to Hochelaga with his pinnace, the Ilermerillon^ and two long- boats, capable of holding thirty*tive persons, leaving his two larger vessels in the harbor of St. Croix, well protected by " poles and pikes driven into the water, and set up," but better by the stout hearts of their gallant crews. His ascent of the 'river was prosperous, and he speaks of the scenery on both sides as extremely rich and beautifully varied, the country being well covered with fine timber and abundance of vines. The natives, with whom he had frequent communication, are represented as kind and hospitable, everywhere supplying him with all they possessed — the taking of fish being their principal occupation and means of subsistence. At Hochelai, now the Richelieu, they received a visit from (he chief of the district, who also attempted to dissuade them from proceeding further, and other- wise showed a friendly disposition, presenting Cartier with one uf his own children, a girl of about seven years of age, whom he afterwards came to visit, together with his wife, during the wintering of the French at St. Croix. On the 28th, they came to Lake St. Peter, where, owing to the shallowness of the water' in one of the passages between the islands, they thought it advisable to leave the pinnace. Here they met five hunters, who, says Cartier, " freely and familiarly came to our boats without any fear, as if we had even been brought up together. Our boats being somewhat near the shore, one of them took our captain in his arms and carried him ashore, as lightly and easily as if he had been a child of iive years old, so strong and sturdy was this fellow." On the 2d October, they approached Hochelaga, and were received by the natives there with every demonstration of joy and ' hospitality. " There came to meet us," says the relator, ^' above one thousand persons, men, women, and children, who afterwards did as friendly and merrily entertain and receive us as any father would do his' child which he had not of long time seeo. Our ciptain, seeing their loving-kindness and entertain- 94 JACQUES CARTIER AT aOdttlELAGA. n ment, caused all the women orderly to be set in array, and gave them beads made of tin, and other such trifles ; and to some of the men he gave knives. Then he returned to the boats to supper, and so passed that night, all which while all those people stood on the shore as near our boats as they might, making great fires and dancing very merrily." The place where Cartier first touched the land, near Kochelaga, appears to have been about six miles from the city, and below the current of St. Mary. On the 3d October, having obtained the services of three natives as guides, Cartier, with his volunteers s.nd part of his men, in full dress, procaeded to visit the Lown. The way was well-beaten and frequented, and he describes the country as the best that could possibly be seen, Hochelaga was situated in tho midst of large fields of Indian corn, and, from the description, must even then have been a very considerable place, and the metropolis of the neighboring country. The name is now lost, but on its site stands the rich and flourishing city of Montreal. It was encompassed by palisades, or • probably a picket-fence, in three rows, one within the other, well secured and put together. A single entrance was secured with piles and stakes, and every precaution adopted for defence against sudden attack or siege. The town consisted of about fifty houses, each fifty feet in length by fourteen in breadth, built of wood and covered with bark, *' werll a e might heal them. Dis- claiming any such power, Cartier, with his accustomed piety prayed with them, and read part of the Gospel of St. John, to their great admiration and joy. He concluded by distributing presents with the utmost impartiality. On reading the whole account, we cannot but be favorably impresced by the conduct and character of those Indians, so different from that of some other tribes, or the generality of sWages. It is probable, however, that the fighting men or warriors of the tribe wer^ which whole PiCTUf IPHE VICTORIA BRTDGIJ. 95 absent on some expedition. Cartier appears to have behaved on the occasion with great discretion, and to have shown himself eminently qr ified for his station. After having seen all that was worthy of note in the city, he set out to examine the mountain, which was about three miles from Hochelaga. Pie describes it as tilled all round, and very fertile. The beautiful view from the top does :^.ot escape his notice, and he states that he could see the country and the river for thirty leagues around him. He gave it the name of Mtmt Royq,l, which was afterwards extended to the city beneath, and th^ whole of the rich and fertile Island, now Montreal. — Hawkins' Picture of Quebec, a, OiUa/L , . , THE VICTORIA BRIDGE. Many of our readers are probably familiar with the Britannia Tubular Bridge, which spans the Menai. That across the noble St. Lawrence is constructed upon the same plan, but on a far bolder and more gigantic scale. ^ Tt was designed by the THE VICT6EIA BRlt)Gli. late Mr. Stephenson, whose shrewd perceptions at once recogf-* nized the incalculable advantages to be derived from such work, and whose scientific mind devised the means lot its execution. It rests on twenty-four piers, with jpaces for navigation, exclusive of the two abutments, whence the tubes spring on either side. The centre span is 330 feet, and each of the others 220 feet wide. The length of the bridge is 10,284 feet, or about fifty yards less than two English miles. The clear dfstance between the under surface of the centre tube and the average summer level of the river is sixty feet, diminishing towards one side. 210,000 tons of stone have been used in the construction of these piers, and 10,400 tons of iron in the tube, girders, &c. The expenditure has averaged $1,250,000 annually. The Colossus of Rhodes, under which sailed the pigmy shallops of former ages, was esteemed a wonder of the Old AVorld. But an iron bridge, spanning a river two miles in width, giving safe passage to hundreds of tons on its riveted fioor, and permitting ships of large tonnage to sail beneath it, is an achievement still moie remarkable for the New World, and is worthy of the young giant rising in the "West. It was always foreseen that the most formidable enemy with which the structure would have to contend would be ice, which, in spring, rushes down the river in vast masses apparently irresistible. The piers, therefore, have been designed to resist enormous pressure, greater, in fact, than any that has been known to exist in the severest seasons. It must have been an interesting sight to witness the laying of the foundation-stone of the second pier, by Lord Elgin, when ' Grovernor-General of Canada. Upon the stony bed of the mighty St. Lawrence, sixteen feet below the surface of the river, a large group of persons stood dry-shod, protected from the rushing torrent which swept around them by the massive sides of a gigantic coffer-dam, to the joints and beams of which clung workmen and spectators, waving their hats, and vocifer- ously cheering an occasion fraught with such important con- sequences to the future welfare and prosperity of Canada. ^A uninterrupted communication being thus made practicable across the St. Lawrence, the traffic of the North American colonies will be brought — not, as heretofore, dependent on the seasons, but al all times — into direct and easy access to all the^ THE BAPID. 9T ports on the Atlantic, from Halifax to Boston and New York, and consequently — through those ports — nearer to Europe. The cost of the vast enterprise is estimated at $7,000,000.— Cassell's Family Paper. THE RAPID. All peacefully gliding, The waters dividing, The indolent bateau moved slowly along. The rowers, light-hearted, From sorrow, long-parted, , Beguiled the dull moments with laughter and song ; " Hurrah for the Rapid ! that merrily, merrily, Gambols and leaps on its tortuous way ; Soon we will enter it, cheerily, cheerily. Pleased with its freshness, and wet with its spray." More swiftly careering. The wild Rapid nearing, They dasH down the stream like a terrified steed. The surges delight them. No terror affrights them, Their voices keep pace with the quickening speed ; " Hurrah for the Rapid ! that merrily, merrily, Shivers lis arrows against us in play ; Now we have entered it, cheerily, cheerily. Our spirits as light as its feathery spray." Fast downward they're dashing. Each fearless eye flashing, Though danger awaits them on every side ; Yon rock — see it frowning ! They strike — they are drowning ! But downward they sweep with the merciless tide : " No voice cheers the Rapid I that angrily, angrily, Shivers their bark in its maddening play ; Gaily, they entered it, heedlessly, recklessly, , . Mingling their lives wkh Its treacherpus spray ! ' ii^ ^'' ^a^Ay^f'UAM.L^ ^ a^Y^^^^^HABLES SaNOSTER. 98 •ALLASTTRT OF A MARINE. GALLANTRY OF A MARINE. During the summer of 1838, the peace of our North American provinces was disturbed by Canadian Insurgents and American sympathizers. Among other places attacked was the town of Prescott, in Canada West, which was defended by a few men of the 83rd Regin/ent, thirty of the Royal Marines, and such of the Glengarry Militia as had had time to collect. The American forces, after landing, had taken a position in which they were protected by the walls of an orchard, from behind which they kept up a galling fire upon the ad.vancing marines, while the latter pushed on, firing as objects presented themselves. In this position of affairs, lance-corporal James Huun, who was on the right of the British line, ran forward and jumped over the wall which covered the American sharpshooters, but found himself on their extreme left, and almost in contact with six or seven of them, who were separated from the main body by another w^U running perpendicularly to that which covered their front. These men were either loading, or in the act of firing at the advancing marines, when Hunn leapt the wall, and were 80 intent upon their occupation that they did not notice him until he was upon them, so that he was able to^close with them, and was seen by his commanding officers to bayonet three, one a^ter another, before they had time to load their pieces and fire. A fourth man, whose piece was loaded,, turned and fired : his ball struck the swell of Hunn's musket, where it was grasped by the left hand, which it passed through, destroying the second finger ; while at the same time the musket was driven so violently against his stomach as for a moment to suspend his breath. Recovering himself, however, he fired effectively at his adversary, now in full retreat, but his disabled hand prevented his again loading, and he was most unwillingly compelled to give up any further share in the glory of the day, after having thus disposed of four of the enemy. Hunn was, in consequence of his intrepidity on this occasion, promoted to the rank of sergeant, without passing through the intermediate grade of corporal. He died a year or two after a victim ot yellow fever, while serving in the Arab on the coast ol Afdcfti— Ca9sei*i*'s Famh^t Paper, 4 •• . ♦ FISHIKG FOR MUSKALOUNGE. 99 FISHING FOR MUSKALOUNGE. A FRIEITD and ourself took a small skiff, with one trolling line, intending to take turns at the oars, and proceed at once to a favorite spot among " The Thousand Islands." We held the trolling line, with a spoon-hook attached, while our companion pulled the oars. We sailed among the secluded places, wherever weeds were seen below the surface of the water, and were rewarded with good sport by taking several fine pike, weighing from six to fifteen pounds, which we managed to secure with ease, save the largest, which gave us some trouble. We then thought we would try deeper water, in the hope of tempting larger fish. A few windings among the clusters of small islands brought us to the channel of the river, when we directed our companion to increase the speed of the skiff, determined that the curiosity of no fish should be satisfied without first tasting our gilded spoon. We pulled for half a mile, when the river wound suddenly round an island, which presented a bold shore, from the rushing of the river's current. The tall forest trees extended to the very brink of the river, over which they hung, throwing a deep shadow on the water. This quiet spot looked as though it might be an atractive one for some solitary fish, and we accordingly took a sweep around the foot of the island. Scarcely had we entered the deep shade spoken of, when we felt a tug at our line, which was so strong that we supposed our hook had come in contact with a floating log or fallen tree. Our companion backed water with his oars to relieve our hook, when another violent pull at our line convinced us that it was no log, but some living creature of great weight. Our line was already out its full length of one hundred and fifty feet ; no alternative was therefore left but to give the fish more line by rowing after him. This we did for a few minutes, when we began to pull in the slack of our line ; some fifty feet or more, when we felt tlie fish. The check was no sooner felt by liim than be started forward with a velocity scarcely conceivable in the water, bringing the line taut, and the next moment our skiff was moving off, stern foremost, towards the river's channel. We soon perceived that our fish bad turned his head up stream, and as the water was deep, there was uo danger of his coming iu contact with weeds 100 FISHIKG FOR MUSKALOU:J7G S. or protruding rocks. We therefore allowed him to tow us for aboui five minutes, when he stopped. Then quiok'y backing water with our oars, and taking in our line, we carefully laid it over the skiff's side, until we had approached within twenty feet of our fish. "We then gave him another check, which probably turned his head, for he again darted off in a contrary direction down stream. We pulled our skiff in the same direction as fast as possible, to give the fish a good run before checking him again, but h'^ soon had the line out ito full length and was again towing our skiff after him with more rapidity than before. This did not last long, however, for we then took the line and hauled towards him to lesson our distance. He made another slap, when we managed to keep the line taut and with our oars moved towards him. Our victim now lay on the surface of the water with his belly upward, apparently exhausted, when we found him to be a muskalounge, between five and six feet in length. We had no sooner got him along- side than he gave a slap with his tail, and again darted off the whole length of the line, taking us once more in tow. His run was now short, and it was now evident he was getting tired of the business. Again the line slacked, and we drew the skiff up to the six)t where he lay turned on his back. He now seemed so far gone that we thought we might draw him into our skiff, so wc reached out our gaff and hooked him under the jaw, while my companion paP':c;d iiis oar under him. In this way we contrived to raise him ov?r the gunwale of the skiff, when he slid to its bottom. AVe then placed our foot at the back of his head to hold him down, in order to disengage our hook, which passed through his upper iaw. No sooner bad we attempted this than he began to flop about, compelling us to give him room to avoid his immense jaws. Every moment ijcemed to increase his strength, when our companion seized an our in order to despatch him, while we took out our knife for the same purpose. Tiio first blow with the oar had only the effect to awaken our fish, which, taking another and more powerful somerset, threw himself over the gunwale of our skiff, which was but a few inches above the water, and with a plunge disappeared in the deep water at our side. We had scarcely recovered from our surprise, when we found the drawn out again to its full length, save a few tangles tv/ists, which had got into it in the struggle between us line and and our fish. Wc determined to trifle no longer with the fellow, V i:, SQUIRRELS. 101 with our ETiall skiff, but to make for the shore and there land him. A small island, a short distance from us, seemed to present a convenient place, and here, without further ceremony, we pulled, towing our fish after us. We leaped into the water about ten feet from the shore, and tugged away at our victim, who floated like a log upon the water, while my companion stood by with an oar to make the capture more sure this timq. lu this way we landed him in safety, just one hour and a quarter after he was first hooked. This mnskalounge weighed forty-nine pounds, and had within him a pike of three pounds weight, a chub, partially decomposed, of four pounds, and a perch of one and a half pounds, which appeared to have been but recently swallowed ; yet this fish's appetite was not satis- fied, and he lost life in grasping at a glitter'.ng bauble. Any person who has ever killed a pike of ten pounds or upwards, can readily imagine the strength of one four times that weight Lanman's Adventures. ilo sooner SQUIRRELS. During our voyage, just at the head of the rapids, our at- tention was drawn to some small object in the water, moving very swiftly along. There were various opinions as to the swim- mer, some thinking it to be a water-snake ; others, a squirrel or a musk-rat. A few swift strokes of the paddle brought us up so as to intercept the passage of the little voyager ; it proved to be a fine red squirrel, bound on a voyage of discovery from a neighboring island. The little animal, with a courage and address that astonished his pursuers, instead of seeking safety in a different direction, sprang lightly on the point of the uplifted paddle, and from thence, with a bound, to the head of my astonished baby, and having gained my shoulder leaped again into the water, s^nd made direct for the shore, P«^vf r having deviated a single point from the line he was swimming in when he first came in sight of our canoe.- I was surprised aid amused by the agility and courage displayed by this innocent creature ; I could hardly have given credence to the circumstance had I not been an eye-witness of its conduct, and, moreover, been wetted plentifully on my shoulder by the sprinkling of water from his coat. 102 BQUIBRELS. Perhaps you may think my squirrel anecdote incredible i bat I can vouch for the truth of it on ray own personal experience, as I jcl only saw but also felt it. The black squirrels are most lovely and elegant animals, considerably larger than the red, the gray, and the striped: the latter are called by the Indians "chip-munks." We were robbed greatly by these little depredators last summer The red squirrels used to carry off great quantities of our Indian corn, not only from the stalks, while the corn wa.p ripening, but they even came into the house through srme chinks iu the log walls, and carried off vast quantities of grain, stripping it very adroitly from the cob, and conveying the grain away to their storehouses in some hollow log or subterranean granary. These little animals are very fond of the seeds of the pumpkins, and you will see the soft creatures whisking about among the cattle, carrying away the seeds as they are scattered by the beasts in breaking the pumpkins : they also delight in the seeds of the sunflowers, which grow to a gigantic height in our gardens and clearings. The fowls are remarkably fond of the sunflower seeds, and I have saved the plants vrith intention of lay ing up a good store of winter-food for ray pooi chicks. One day I went to cut the ripe heads, the largest of which was the size of a large dessert plate, but found two wicked red squirrels busily eraployed in gathering in the seeds, not for me, be sure, but themselves. Not contented with picking out the seeds, these little thieves dexterously sa^ ed chrough the stalks, and conveyed away whole heads at onc^ : so bold were they that they would not desist when I approached till they had secured their object ; and, encumbered with a load twice the weight of their own agile bodies, ran with swiftness along the railsfanS over root, stump, and log, till they eluded my pursuit. Great was the indignation expressed by this thrifty little pair, on returning again for another load, to find the plant divested of the heads. I had cut what remained and prit them in a basket in the sun, on a small blodk in the garden, close to the open glass door, on the steps of which I was sitting shelling some need beans, when the squirrels drew my attention to them by their sharp, scolding notes, elevating their fine feath- ery taik', and expressing the most lively indignation at the invasion. They were not long before they discovered the Indian basket with the ravished treasure ; a few rapid move- ments brought the little pair to the rails^ within a few paces of INDIAN SUMMER. 103 aiblci but xperience, b animals, e striped: We were ner The »ur Tndian ; ripening, iks iu the , stripping in away to rranary. (Is of the king about B scattered delight in height in bly fond of \i intention icks. One eh was the id squirrels le, be sure, the seeds, stalks, and they that ad secured weight of railspana rifty little the plant d put them n, close to ng shelling ttention to fine feath- ion at the overed the ipid move- iw paces of r^e and th*:^ sunflower heads ; here, then, they paused, and sitting up, looked in my face with the most imploring gestures. I was too much amused by their perplexity to help them, but, turning away my head to speak to the child, they darted forward, and in another minute had taken possession of one the largest of the heads, which they conveyed away, first one carrying it a few yards and then the other, it being too bulky for one alone to carry it iar at a time. In short, I was so well amused by watching^ their manoeuvres, that 1 suffered them to rob me of all my store. I saw a little family of tiny squirrels at play in the spring, on the top of a hollow log, and really I think they were, without exception, the liveliest, most graceful creatures, I ever looked on. The flying squirrel is a native of our woods, and exceeds in be£.uty, to my mind, any of the tribe. Its color is the softest, most delicate tint of gray ; the fur thick and short, and as silken as velvet ; the eyes, like all the squirrel kind, are large, full, and soft ; the whiskers, and long hair about the nose, black ; the membrane that assists this little animal in its flight IS white, and delicately soft in texture, like the fur of the chin- chilla ; it forms a ridge of fur between the fore and hind-legs ; the tail is like an elegant broad gray feather. I was agreeably surprised by the appearance of this exquisite little creature, the pictures I had seen gave it a most inelegant and hat-like look, almost disgusting. The young ones are easily tamed, and are very playful and affectionate when under confinement.-— Mrs. . ^ Traill's Backwoods of Canada. '*iu^JU K(xckMmdoi/^ c^cjuw^wa- INDIAN SUMMER. By the purple haze that lies On the distant rocky height, By the deep blue of the skies. By the smoky amber light, Through the forest arches streaming. Where Nature on her throne sits dreaming, And the sun is scarcely gleaming. Through the cloudless snowy white- Winter's lovely herald greets us, Ere the ice-crowned giant meets us. 104 INDIAN SUMMER. A mellow softness fills the air,-— No breeze on wanton wing steals by, To bre '- holy quiet there. Or L. ... the waters fret and sigh, Or thb yellow alders shiver, That bend to kiss the placid river, Flowing on, and on for ever ; But the little waves are sleeping, O'er the pebbles slowly creeping, That last night were flashing, leaping, Driven by the restless breeze, In lines of foam beneath yon trees. Dress'd in robes of gorgeous hue, Brown and gold with crimson blent ; The forest to the waters blue Its own enchanting tints has lent ; — In their dark depths, life-like glowing. We see a second forest growing, Each pictured leaf and bran(;h bestowing A fairy grace to that twin wood, Mirror'd within the crystal flood. 'Tis pleasant now in forest shades -. — The Indian hunter strings his bow, To track through dark entangling glades The antler'd deer and bounding doe, — Or launch at night the birch canoe, To spear the rinny tribes that dwell On sandy bank, in weedy cell. Or pool, the fisher knows right well — Seen by the red and vivid glow Of pine-torch at his vessel's bow. This dreamy Indian eummer-day. Attunes the soul to tender sadness ; We love — but joy not in the ray — It is not summer's fervid gladness, But a melancholy glory Hovering softly round decay, Like swan that sings her own sad story, Ere she fio&ts in death away. AN INDIAN COUNCIL. 105 The day declines, what splendid dyes, In fleckered waves of crimson driven. Float o'er the saffron sea that lies Glowins: within the western heaven ! Oh) it is a peerless even ! See, the broad red sun has set, But his rays are quivering yet, Through Nature's veil of voilet, Streaming bright o'er lake and hill. But earth and forest lie so still It sendeth to the heart a chill ; We start to check the rising tear — ^ 'Tis beauty sleepinsr on her bier. /^oWv^ ^^^A ^.^^'-'^^'' Mrs. Moodie. AN MEDIAN COUNCIL. At noon I proceeded to a point at which it had been arranged that I should hold a council with the chiefs of all the tribes, who, according to appointment, had congregated to meet me ; and OQ my arrival there I found them all assembled, standing in groups, dressed in their fine costumes, with feathers waving ; on their heads, with their faces painted, half-painted, quarter- painted, or one eye painted, according to the customs of their respective tribes ; while on the breast and arras of most of the oldest of them, there shone resplendent the silver gorgets and armlets which in former years had been given to them by their ally — the British Sovereign. After a few salutations it was proposed that our council should commence ; and, acconliiigly, while I took possession of !i cliair, which the Chiet Superintendent of Indian Affairs had been good enough to brng for me, the chiefs sat down opposite to me in about eighteen or twenty lines parallel to each other. For a considerable time we absolutely gazed at each otlier in dead silence. Passions of all sorts had time to subside ; and the juil lament, divested of its enemy, was thus enabled calmly to consider and pn^pni-e tli* !^a'>i''crs of the approaching discourre ; and, as if still further t ) acilitate this arrangement, " the pipe of peace " was introduced, slowly lighted, slowly smoked by one 106 AN INDIAN COUNCIL. chief after another, and then sedately handed me to smoke it too. The whole assemblage having, in this simple manner, been solemnly linked together in a chain of friendship, and as it had been intimated to them by the superintendent that I was feady to consider whatever observations any of them might desire to offer, one of the oldest chiefs arose ; and, after standing for some seconds erect, yet in a position in which he was evidently perfectly at his ease, he commenced his speech — translated to me by an interpreter at my side — by a slow, calm expression of thanksgiving to the Great Spirit for having safely conducted so many of his race to the point at which they had been requested to assemble. He then, in very appropriate terms, expressed the feelings of attachment which had so long connected the red man with his Great Parent across the Salt Lake ; and, after this exordium — which in co"ij)osition and mode of utterance would have done credit to any legislative assembly in the civilized world — he proceeded with great calmness, by very beauti- ful metaphors, and by a narration of facts it was impossible to deny, to explain to me how gradually, and — since their acquaintance with their white brethren — how continuously the ice of red men had melted, and were still melting, like snow before the sun. As I did not tsike notes of this speech, or of those of several other chiefs who afterwards addressed the council, I could only very inaccurately repeat them. Besides which, a considerable portion of them related to details of no public importance: I will, therefore, in general terms, only observe, that nothing can be more interesting, or offer to the civilized world a more useful lesson, than the manner in which the red aborigines of America, without ever interrupting each other, conduct their councils. The calm, high-bred dignity of their demeanor — the scientific manner in which they progressively construct the framework of whatever subject they undertake to explain — the sound argu- ments by which they connect as well as support it — and the beautiful wild-flowers of eloquence with which, as they proceed, they adorn every portion of the moral architecture they are constructing, form altogether an exhibition of grave interest ; and yet, is it not astonishing to reflect that the orators in these councils are men whose lips and gums are — while they are speaking — black from the wild berries upon which they have been subsisting — who have never heard of education — never seen a town — but who, born in the secluded recesses of an almost FALLS OF NIAGARA. lOT iDterminable forest, have spent their lives in either following zig-zaggedly the game on which they subsist through a labyrinth of trees, or in paddling their canoes across lakes, and among a congregation of such islands as I have described ? They hear more distinctly — see further — smell clearer— -can bear more fatigue— can subsist on less food — and have altogether fewer wants than their white brethren ; and yet, while from morning till night we stand gazing at ourselves in the looking- glass of self-admiration, we consider the Red Indians of America as ''outside barbarians." But I have quite forgotten to be the " Hansard " of my own speech at the council, which was an ^attempt to explain to the tribes assembled the reasons which had induced their late "Great Father" to recommend some of them to ifell their lands to the Provincial Government, and to remove to the innumerable islands in the waters before us. I assured them that their titles to their present hunting-grounds remained, and ever would remain, respected and undisputed ; but that inasmuch as their white brethren had an equal right to occupy and cultivate the forest that surrounded them, the consequence inevitably would be to cut off their supply of wild game, as I have already described. In short, I stated the case as fairly as I oould, and, after a long debate, succeeded in prevailing upon the tribe to whom I had been particularly addressing myself to dispose of their lands on the terms I had proposed ; and whether the bargain was for their weal or woe, it was, and, so long as I live, will be, a great satisfaction to me to feel that it was openly discussed and agreed to in presence of every Indian tribe with whom Her Majesty is allied; for, be it always kept in mind, that while the white inhabitants of our North American Colonies are the Queen's subjects^ the Red Indian is, by solemn treaty, Her Majesty's ally. — Sir Fi^aNCIS V/t. FALLS OF NIAGARA. ^uu^C There's nothing great or bright, thou glorious Fall ; Thou mayst not to the fancy's sense recall — The thunder-riven cloud, the lightning's leap— The stirring of the chambers of the deep— 108 THE TAKING OF DETROIT. Earth's cmeralfl green, and many-tinted dyes — The fleecy whiteness of the upper skies — The tread of armies, thickening as they come — The boom of cannon, and the beat of drum — The brow of beauty, and the form of grace — The passion, and the prowess of our race — The song of Homer, in its loftiest hour — The unresisted sweep of Roman power — Britannia's trident on the azure sea — America's young shout of liberty ! Oh I may the wars that madden in thy deeps There spend their rage, noi climb th' encircling steeps And till the conflict of thy surges cease, • The nations on thy banks repose in peace. Earl OF Carlisle.— (1841.) THE TAKING OF DETROIT. Iv the year 1G70, the French authorities in Canada built a fort upon the Detroit river, for the double purpose of trading with the Indians, and of opposing a barrier to their progress eastward. At the peace of Paris, in 1768, the fort and the little settlement that surrounded it passed, with all the adjacent territory, into the hands of the British ; and, twenty years later, it became part of the new American Republic. Gradually the little settlement progressed, until, in 1812 — the year of our story — it boasted 1,200 'inhabitants ; and now Detroit is a city with a population of 4G,000. In 1812, the young Republic of the United States declared war against the British Empire, cloaking their real design — which was that of conquering Canada and her sister provinces — under a pretence of avenging an imaginary insult oflFered to the American marine. General Hull, an old revolutionary ofRcer, left the fort at Detroit, and crossed over into Canada with 2,500 men, to take possession of the country ; but after three successive attacks upon the little village of Amherstburg, garrisoned by only 300 regulars and a few Indians, under Colonel St. George, he was compelled to return, and shut hii];)self up in the old French fort. THE TAKIisG OF DETROIT. 109 Sir Isaac Brock was at this time the Governor of Upper Canada. He was a brave and skilful general, and had served with great distinction in the European campaigns. Beloved alike by the soldiers who fought under him and the people whom he governed, no man could be better fitted for meeting the exigencies of the time. In the whole of the upper province, however, there were, during the period of his government, only 80,000 men, women, and children, scattered over a wide tract of country. From his head-quarters, in Toronto, the General sent Colonel Procter, with a small detachment, to reinforce the garri- son at Amherstburg, leaving himself with only ninety men. This little force he sent off towards Long Point, Lake Erie, to raise a body of two hundred militia, and to prepare means of trans- portation. Two hundred volunteers, from York and the sur- rounding country, responded to his call ; and on the 6th of August Sir Isaac set out, amid the tears and applause of the little town's inhabitants, at the head of his newly-raised army. While passing the Grand River, he held a council with the Indians, who were glad to have an opportunity of wiping ouf, old scores with the " Long knives," as they called the Americans, and who promised to meet him at Amherstburg. On the 8th, the little band of Canadian patriots arrived at Long Point, the end of their weary march, where the assembled reinforcements had provided a number of small boats for accomplishing the remainder of the journey. The distance from Long Point to Amherstburg is two hundred miles, over a rough sea, and along a coast presenting no means of shelter against the weather. This long journey was performed after four days and nights of incessant labor ; at midnight of the 13th, the motley fleet of transports arrived at its destination. Great was the rejoicing when the General arrived in Amherstburg; the regulars cheered, the volunteers shouted, and the Indians could hardly be restrained from firing away all their ammu- nition, at the prospect of battle under such a leader. The whole of the Canadian force now amounted to 1,300 men, comfirising GOO Indians, under the celebrated Tecumseh, 300 regulars, and 400 volunteers, "-disguised in red coats." All artillery consisted of five small guns, wl ,h were planted elevated bank opposite Detroit. On the 15th, the awaiting the signal to fire upon river. General Brock sent a surrender, which they indig- an their upon gunners stood to their pieces the enemy's position across the •ummons to the Americans to no THE TAKING OF DETROIT. nantly rejected, and immediately the little battery began to play upon the fort and village. Next day, the Canadian army crossed the river, between three and four miles below Detroit, to meet the enemy on their own ground. When the dis- embarkation was completed, General Brock sent forward the, Indians, as skirmishers, upon the right and left, and advanced with the remainder of his force to within a mile of the fort. From its high sodded parapets, surrounded by tall row^ of wooden palisades and a wide and deep ditch, thirty pieces of cannon frowned down upon the besiegers : its garrison consisted of four hundred soldiers of the United St tes regular army. A larger body of Ohio volunteers occupied a i entrenched position flanking the approach to the fort ; while, on the right, a detachment of six hundred militia, from Ohio and Michigan, was rapidly advancing. Another considerable force held the town ; making the total strength of the enemy about 2,500 men. In spite of the great disparity of the opposing armies, and of the formidable preparations made by the enemy. General Brock prepared to carry the fort by assault. The Indians advanced within a short distance of the American forces, uttering their shrill war-cries, and keeping np an incessant fire upon their more exposed positions. The regulars and volunteers examined the priming of their muskets, and prepared to scale the palisades and walls of the fort. All was in readiness for an immediate attack, when a gate suddenly opened, and to the astonishment of the gallant Canadian General, an American officer advanced towards him, bearing a flag of truce. An hour afterwards, General Hull surrendered the whole of his com- mand, and the Canadian army marched into the quarters of the enemy. By the terms of this capitulation, two thousand five hundred prisoners, as many stands of arms, thirty -three pieces of cannon, a large store of ammunition, three months' pro- visions, and a vessel of war, fell into the hands of the conquerors. So signal a victory, gained by a small and hastily- collected force, is one of which every loyal British subject in America may well be proud. Campbell's Fourth Reader. LUMBERING. Ill LUMBERING. The lumber trade is carried on to a greater or less extent on al ■ most all the American rivers ; but on the IMississippi and the St. Lawrence it affords employment to a vast number of persons. The chief raftsmen, under whose direction the timber expedi- tions are conducted, are generally persons of very great intelli- gence and often of considerable wealth. Sometimes these men, for the purpose of obtaining wood, purchase a piece of land, which they sell after it has been cleared, but more frequently they pur- chase only the timber from the proprietors of the land on which it grows. The chief raftsman, and his detachment of workmen, repair to the forest about the month of November, and are occu- pied during the whole of the winter months in felling trees, dress- ing them into logs, and dragging them by teams of oxen to the nearest stream, over the hardened snow, with which the country is then covered. They live during this period in huts formed of logs. Throughout the whole of the newly-cleared districts of America, indeed, the houses are built of rough logs, which are arranged so as to form the four sides of the hut, and their ends are half-checked into each other, in such a manner as to allow of their coming into contact nearly, throughout their whole length, 112 LUMBEKING. and the small interstices which remain are filled up with clay. About the month of May, when the ice leaves the rivers, the logs of timber that have been prepared, and hauled down during winter, are launched into the numerous small stieams in the neighborhood of which they have been cut, and are floated down to the larger rivers, where their progress is stopped by ^what is called a '' boom." The boom consists of a line of logs, extending across the whole breadth of the river. These are connected by iron links, and attached to stone piers built at suitable distances in the bed of the stream. The boom is erected for the purpose of stopping the downward progress of the wood, which must remain within it till all the timber has left the forest. After this every raftsman searches out his own timber, which he recognizes by the mark he puts on it, and, having formed it into a raft, floats it down the river to its destination. The boom is generally owned by private in- dividuals, who levy a toll on all the wood collected by it. The toll on the Penobscot River is at the rate of three per cent, on the value of the timbei. The rafts into which the timber is formed, previous to being floated down the large rivers, are strongly put together. They are furnished with masts and sails, and are steered by means of long oars, which project in front as well as behind them. Wooden houses are built on them for the accommodation of the crew and their families. I have counted upwards of thirty persons working the steering oars of a raft on the St. Lawrence ; from this some idea may be formed of the number of their inhabitants. The most hazardous part of the lumberer's business is that of bringing the rafts of wood down the large rivers. If not managed with great skill, they are apt to go to pieces in descending the rapids ; and it not unfrequently happens that the whole labor of one, and sometimes of two years, is in this "ay lost in a mo- ment. An old raftsman with whom I had some conversation on board of one of the steamers on the St. Lawrence, informed me that each of the rafts brought down that river contains from 15,000 to 25,000 dollars' worth of timber, and that he, on one occasion, lost 12,500 dollars by one raft, which grounded In de- scending a rapid, and broke up. The safest size of a raft, he said, was from 40,000 to 50,000 square feet of surface ; and when of that size they require about five men to manage them. Some are made, however, which have an area of no less than 300,000 square feet. These unwieldy craft are; brought to Quebec la AMERICA TC GJREAT BfetTAiK. 113 great numbers from distances varying from one to twelve hundred miles ; and it often happens that six months are occupied in making the passage. Th^y are broken up at Quebec, where the timber is cut up for exportation, into planks, deals, or battens, at the numerous saw-mills with which the banks of the St. Lawrence are studded for many miles in tfie neighborhood of the town. Sometimes the timber is shipped in the form of logs. The tim- ber-rafts of the Rhine are, perhaps, the onlj'^ ones in Europe that can be compared to those of the American rivers ; but none of those which I have seen on the Rhine were nearly so large as those on the St. Lawrence, although some of them were worked by a greater number of hands, a precaution rendered necessary, perhaps, by the more intricate navigation of the river. The principal woods exported from the St. Lawrence are white oak, white pine, red pine, elm, and white ash. — Stevenson. AMERICA TO GREAT BRITAIN. All hail ! thou noble land, Our father's native soil !' Oh, stretch thy mighty hand, Gigantic grown by toil. O'er the vast Atlantic wave to our shore I For thou with magic might Canst reach to where the light Of Phoebus travels bright the world o'er ! The genius of our clime. From his pine-embattled steep, Shall hail the guest sublime ; While the Tritons of the deep With their conclis the kindred league shall proclaim. Then let the world combine, O'er the main our naval line, Like the milky- way, shall shine bright in fame ! Though ages long have past Since our fathers left their home, Their pilot in the blast, O'er untravelled seas to roam, Yet lives the blood of England in our veins I And shall we not proclaim 4b ^ 114 THE FALLS OF NIAGARA. ,OAJL /6'^li'l 4Jj4i<' That blood of honest fame "Which no tyranny can tame by its chains ? While the language free and bold it . Which the Bard of Avon sung, 4l\AhlJ^T^ In which our Milton told J ^^^ j - • ^-^ ^ How the vault of heaven rung, ^ op joA^iyU, When Satan, blasted, fell with his host : — r^y*^ While this, with reverence meet, " fPQ/iCMxl^r my life ! * rhen, having ication was :he sentence lether a par- rst speaker; questionably was shown 3 granted in ow just and ion accorded d in by one •ds's turn to related the t had passed Massachusetts, ten its effect blast in the cil began to such a man tural feeling immediately lew. ' Away, away o'er the foaming main ! " This was the free and joyous strain ; " There are clearer skies than ours, afar, We will shape our course by a brighter ^tar ; Inhere are plains whose verdure no foot hath press'd, \nd whose wealth is all for the first brave guest." *' But alas ! that we should go," Sang the farewell voices then, " P'rom the homesteads warm and low, By the brook, and in the glen." We will rear new homes, under trees that glow As if gems were the fruitage of every bough ; O'er our white walls we will train the vine, And sit in shadow at day's decline. And watch our herds as they range at will Through the green savannas, all bright and still." " Bii'. v»oe for that sweet shade . Of the flowering orchard trees, Where first our children play'd, ' Mid birds and honey bees ! " " All, all our own shall the forests be, As to the bound of the roebuck free ; None shall say, * Hither, no further pass ! ' We will track each step through the wavy grass, We will chase the elk in his speed and might. And bring proud spoils to the hearth at night." " But oh ! the gray church tower. And the sound of the Sabbath bell, And the shelter'd garden bower. We have bid them all farewell ! " • *' We will give the names of our fearless race. To each bright river whose course we trace, W'i will leave our memory with mounts and floods. And the path of our daring in boundless woods ; And our works on many a lake's green shore, Where the Indian's graves lay alone, before," *' But who shall teach the flowers Which our children love, to dwell In a soil that is not ours ? Home, home and friends, farewell ! " — Mb9. Hemans, 124 THE WESTERN .HUNTEK. THE WESTERN HUNTER. At, this is freedom i These pure skies Were never stain'd with village smoke ; The fragrant wind, that through them flies, Is breathed from wastes by plough unbroke. Here, with my rifle and my steed. And her who left the world for me, I plant me where the red deer feed In the green desert — and am free. For here the fair savannas know No barriers in the bloomy grass ; Wherever breeze of heaven may blow Op beam of heaven may glance, I pass In pastures measureless as air, The bison is my noble game ; The bounding elk, whose antlers tear The branches, falls before my aim. Mine are the river-fowl that scream From the lo*g line of waving sedge ; The bear that marks my weapon's gleam, Hides vainly in the forest's edge ; In vain the she-wolf stands at bay ; The brindled catamount, that lies High in the boughs to watch his prey, Even in the act of springing dies. With what free growth the elm and plane Fling their huge arms across my way ; Gray, old, and cumber'd with a train Of vines as huge, and old, and gray ! Free stray the lucid streams, and find No taint in these fresh lawns and shades. Free spring the flowers that scent the wind, Where never scythe has swept the glades. Alone, the fire, when frost winds sear The heavy herbage of the ground, Gathers his annual harvest here. With roaring like th^ battle sound, %n THE BACKWOODSMA^r. 125 And trains of smoke that heavenward tower, And streaming flames that sweep the plain, Fierce, as if kindled to devour Earth, to the well springs of the main. Here, from dim woods, the aged past Speaks solemnly ; and I behold The boundless future, in the vast And lonely river, seaward roll'd. Who feeds its founts with rain and dew ! Who moves, I ask, its gliding mass, And trains the bordering vines, whose blue, Bright clusters tempt me as I pass ? Broad are these streams ; my steed obeys. Plunges and bears me through the tide : Wide are these woods ; I thread the maze Of giant stems, nor ask a guide. I hunt till day's last glimmer dies O'er wooded vale and grassy height ; And kind the voice and glad the eyes That welcome my return at night. W. C. Bryant. Ml THE BACKWOODSMAN. The silent wilderness for me ! Where never sound is heard. Save the rustling of the squirrel's foot. And the flitting wing of bird. Or its low i;nd interrupted note. And the deer's quick, crackling tread, And the swaying of the forest boughs, As the wind moves overhead. Alone (how glorious to be free !) My good dog at my side. My rifle hanging on my arm, I range the forest wide. And now the regal buffalo Across the plains I chase ; Now track the mountain stream to find The beaver's lurking-plaoe. 1^6 THE BACKtVOODSMAJ?. I stand upon the mountain's top, And (solitude profound ! ) Not even a woodman's smoke curls up Within the horizon's bound. Below, as o'er its ocean breadth The air's light currents run, The w;ilderness of moving leaves Is glancing in the sun. I look around to where the sky Meets the far forest line, And this imperial domain, This kingdom, all is mine. This bending heaven, these floating cloudi, Waters ♦hat ever roll. And wilderness of glory, bring , These offerings to my soul. My palace, built by God's own hand, The world's fresh prime hath seen ; Wide stretch its living halls away, Pillar'd and roof'd with green ; My music is the wind that now Pours loud its swelling bars, >"'ow lulls in dying cadences ; My festal lamps are stars. Though when in this my lonely home. My star-watch'd couch I press, I hear no fond '' good night," think not I am companionless. Oh, no ! I see my father's house. The hill, the tree, the stream, And the looks and voices of my home Come gently to my dream. And in these solitary haunts. While slumbers every tree In night and silence, God himself Seems nearer unto me, I feel His presence in these shades^ Like the embracing air ; And, as my eyelids close in sleep. My heart is hush'd in prayer. — E. Peabodt. Ben J Amel horn I 1738 1699] not West! feOYHOOD OF BENJAMIN WEfef . 127 BOYHOOD OF BENJAMIN WEST. dt, ABODT. Benjamin West, one of the earliest and most distinguished of American painters, was a native of Pennsylvania. He was born near Springfield, Chester County, on the 10th October, 1738. His family were Quakers, and emigrated to America in 1699. His father, however, being left at school in England, did not join his relatives until 1714. The native tendencies of West were early manifested. It is said that, when he was but six years old, his mother left him for a few moments to keep the flies from an infant sleeping in the cradle. While ho was thus employed, the beauty of the little creature, smiling in its sleep, attracted his attention, and he immediately endeavored to delineate its portrait with a pen and ink. His mother soon returned, and was surprised and delighted at the attempt, in which she thought she detected a resemblance to the sleeping infant. Not long after this he was sent to school, but was permitted to amuse himself during his hours of leisure, in drawing flowers and animals with a pen. He soon desired to represent the color as well as the shape ; but here he was at a loss, for the community in which he lived miide use of no paints but the most simple and grave. His American biographer says that " The colors he used were charcoal and chalk, mixed with the juice of berries ; but with these colors, laid on with the hair of a cat, drawn through a goose quill, when about nine years of age, he drew on a sheet of puper the portraits of a neighboring family, in which the delineation of each individual was sufficiently accurate to be immediately recognized by his father, when the picture was first shown to him. When about twelve years old, he drew a portrait of himself, with his hair hanging loosely about his shoulders." His stock of colors was soon considerably enlarged by a party of Indians who visited Spring.^ield in the summer ; and becoming interested in the sketches which the boy showed them, taught him to prepare the red and yellow paints which they were accustomed to use. A piece of indigo, which his mother gave him, furnished him with blue ; and with these three simple primary colors the young artist felt himself rich. One of the earliest patrons of the young painter was the father of General Wayne, who lived at Springfield. Happening l28 AN ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF AUDUBOi?. to notice one day several heads drawn upon hoards with ink, chalk, and charcoal, he was so much pleased with them as to ask the privilege of taking them home. Next diiy he callod again, and presented young West with six dollars. This cir- cumstance had considerable effect in inducing him subsequently to make painting his profession. Another circumstance which occurred about this per'od, afforded him inexpressible delight. A merchant of Philadelpiiia, Mr. Pennington, beiig on a visit to the family, was so ninch pleased with the efforts of Benjamin, that he j)iomised him a box of colors and brushes. On his return to the city, he not only fulfilled his promise, but added to the stock several pieces of canvas prepared for painting, and " six engravings by Grevling." Nothing could exceed his delight at this unexpected treasure. He carried the box to a room in the garret, and immediately began to imitate the engravings in colors ; and even ventur i to form a new compositirn, by using the figures from the different prints. The result of this boyish effoit to combine figures from engravings, and invent a system of coloring, was exhibited sixty-seven years afterwards, in the same room with the " Christ Rejected." — Self-Taught Men. He her AN ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF AUDUBON. My march was of long duration. I saw the sun sinking beneath the horizon long before I could perceive any appearance of woodland, and nothing in the shape of man had I met that day. The track which I followed was only an old Indian trace ; and as darkness overshadowed the prairie I felt some desire to reach at least a copse in which I might lie down to rest. Shortly after a fire-light attracted my eye. I moved towards it, full of confidence that it proceeded from the camp of some wandering Indians. I was mistaken. I discovered by its glare that it was from the hearth of a small log-cabin, ai:d that a tall figure passed and re-passed between it and me, as if busily engaged in household arrangements. I reached the spot, and presenting myself at the door, asked the tall figure, which proved to be a woman, if I might take shelter under her roof for the night ? rBOJf. AN ADVENTURE IN THE LITE OF AUDUBON. 129 rls with ink, them as to y he called . This cir- ;ubs('queutly this per'od, Miiladelpliia, /as so iinich loraised him the citv, he Lock several nj;ravinent me expressive glances whenever our hostess chanced to !iave her back towards us. Never until that moment had my senses been awakened lo the danger which I now suspected to be about me* X returned 4 » 9 180 AN ADVENTURE IN THE LIFE OF AUDUBON. i : i glance for glance to my companion, and rested well assured that, whatever enemies 1 might have, he was not of the number. Under the pretence of wishing to see how the weather was, I took up my gun and walked out of the cabin. I slipped a ball into each barrel, scraped the edges of my flints, renewed the primings, and returning to the hut, gave a favorable account of my observations. I took a few bear-skins, made a pallet of them, and calling my faithful dog to my side, lay down, with my gun close to my body, and in a few minutes was to all appearance fast asleep. ' A short time liad elapsed when some voices were heard, and from the corner of my eyes 1 saw two athletic youths making their entrance, bearing i\ dead stag on a pole. They disposed of their burden, and, asking for whiskey, helped themselves freely to it. Observing me and the wounded Indian, they asked who I was, and why that rascal (meaning the Indian, who, they knew, understood not a word of English,) was in the hous<3 ? The mother — for so she proved to be — bade them speak less loudly, made mention of my watch, and took them to a corner, where a conversation took place. The last words reached me — " That will soon settle him ! Boys, kill you ; and then for the watch." I turned, cocked my gun-locks silently, and tapped gently my faithful dog, who moved his tail, and fixed his eyes alternately on me and on the trio in the corner. I lay ready to start up and shoot the first who might attempt my life. The moment was fast approaching, and that night might have been my last iu this world had not Providence made preparations for my rescue. All was ready. The murderous hag was advancing slowly, probably contemplating the best way of despatching me, while her sons should be engaged with the Indian. I was several times on the eve of rising and shooting her on the spot ; but she was not to be punished thus. The door was suddenly opened, and there entered two stout travellers, each with a long rifle on his shoulder. I flew to my feet, and making them most heartily welcome I told them how well it was for me that they should have arrived at that moment. The tale was told in a minute. The drunken sons were secured, and the woman, in spite of her defence and vociferations, shared the same fate. The Indian fairly danced with joy, and gave us to understand that, as he could not sleep for pain, he would watch over us. You may suppose we WM BOK. ssured that, ae number, ither was, I ipped a ball enewed the account of a pallet ot down, with was to all B heard, and iths making ley disposed I themselves ndian, they the Indian, iish,) was in — bade them I took them le last words ill you ; and pped gently sd his eyes I lav ready ky life. The t have been preparations us hag was est way of d with the nd shooting thus. The two stout I flew to I I told them ived at that runken sons lefence and lairly danced could not suppose we THE NATURi\.L BRIDGE. IGl »lept much less than we talked. The two strangers gave mo an account of their once having been themselves in a some- what similar situation. Day came, fair and rosy, and with it the punishment of our captives. They were now quite sobered. Their feet were unbound, but their arms were still securely tied. Wc marched them into the woods off the road, and having used them as Regulators were wont to use such delinquents, we set fire to the cabin, gave the skins and implements to the young Indian warrior, and proceeded, well pleased, towards the settlement. — Romantic Incidents. in the Lives of Naturalists, «&c. THE NATURAL BRIDGE. The scene opens with a view of the great Natural liridgc in Virginia. There are three or four lads standing in the channel below, looking up with awe to that Viist arch of unhewn rocks which the Almighty bridged over chose everlasting butments, 132 THE NAT DUAL BRIDGE. "when the morning stars sang together." Th« little piece of sky spanning those measureless piers is full of stars, although it is mid-day. It is almost five hundred feet from where they stand, up those perpendicular bulwarks of limestone to the key of that vast arch, which appears to them only the size of a man's hand. The silence of death is rendered more impressive, by the little stream that falls from rock to rock down the channel. The sun is darkened, and the boys have uncovered their heads, as if standing in the presence chamber of the Majesty of the whole eaith. At last, this feeling begins to wear away ; they look around them, and find that others have been there before them. They see the names of hundreds, cut in the limestone butments. A new feeling comes over their young hearts, and their knives are in their hands in an instant. " What man has done man can do," is their watchword, while they draw themselves up, and carve their names a foot above those of a hundred full-grown men, w ho have been there before them. They are all satisfied with this feat of physical exertion, except one, whose example illustrates perfectly the forgotten truth, that there is "' no Royal road to learning." This ambitious youth sees a name just above his rcacli — a name which will be green in the memory of the world, wlien those of Alexander, Cajsar, and Bonaparte, shall rot in oblivion. It was the name of Wasliiti.'rton. Before he marched wilh Braddock to that fatal O field he had been there and left his name, a foot above any of Lis piedecessors. It was a <:lorious thoujjht to write his name side l.y side with that great father of his country. He grasps his kiule wlih a firmer hand, and, clinging to a little jutting crag, he cuts again into the limestone, about a foot above where he stands ; he then reaches uj) and cuts another for his hands. 'Tis a dangerous venture; but as be puts his feet and hands into those gains, and drav.s himself up carefully to his full length, he finds himself a foot above every name chronicled in that mighty wall. "While his companions are regarding him with conceri; and admiration, he cuts his name in wide capitals, large and deep, in that flinty album. His knife is still iu his hand, and strength in his sinews, and a new-created aspiration in his heart. Aijain he cuts another niche, and ao-ain ho carves his name in larger capitals. This is not enough ; heedless of the entreaties of his companions, ho cuts and climbs again. The gradations of his asceuding scale grow wider apart, Ho THE NATURAL liRIDGi: 133 little piece of stars, although 3in wheie they tone to the key the size of a lOve impressive rock down the jave uncovered lamber of tho eling begins to lat others have f hundreds, cut )mes over their [Is in an instant, atchword, while ics a foot above ;eu there before lysical y the exertion, forgotten This ambitious lie which will be of Alexander, was the name of >ck to that fatal |)ot above any of write his name [try. He grasps a little jutting ot above where [r for his hands, feet and hands |lly to his full c chronicled in ^gardinff him n wide capitals, is still iu his ated aspiration and again he ough ; heedless \\ climbs again, der apart, He measures his length at every gain he cuts. The voices of his friends wax weaker and weaker, till their words are finally lost on his ear. He now for the first lirae casts a look beneath him. Had that glance lasted a moment, that moment would have been his last. He clinjjs with a convulsive shudder to liis little niche in the rock. An awful abyss awaits his almost certain fall. He is faint with severe exertion, and tremblinor from the J-udden view of the dreadful destruction to which he is exposed. His knife is worn half-way to tlie haft. He can hear the voices, but not the words, of his terror-stricken com- panions below. What a moment ! What a meagre chance to escape destruction ! There is no retracing his steps. It is impossible to put his hands into the same niche with his feet, and retain his slender hold a moment. His companions instantly perceive this new and fearful dilemma, and await his fall with emotions that "freeze their young blood." He is too high to ask for his father and mother, his brothers and sisters, to come and witness or avert his destruction. Hut one of his companions anticipates his desire. Swift as the wind, he bounds down the channel, and the situation of the fated boy is told upon his father's hearthstone. Minutes of almost eternal length roll on, and there are hundreds standing in that rocky channel, and hundreds on the bridge above, all holding their breath, and awaiting the fearful catastrophe. The poor boy hears the hum of new and nirnerous voices both above and below. He can iust distinguish the tones of his father, who is shouting with all the energy of despair — " William ! William ! Don't look dcwn ! Your mother, and Henry, and Harriet, are all praying for you ! Don't look down ! Keep your eyes towards the top ! " The boy didn't look down. His eye is fixed like a flint towards heaven, and his young heart on Him who reigns there. He grasps again his knife. He cuts another niche, and another foot is added to the hundreds that remove him from the reach of human help from below. How carefully he uses his wasting blade 1 How anxiously he selects the softest places in that vast pier ! How he avoids every flinty grain ! How he economizes his physical powers, resting a moment at each gain he cuts. How every motion is watched from below ! There stand his father, mother, brother, and sister, on the very spot where, if he falls, he will not fall alone. The sun is half-way down in the west. The lad has made 134 THE NATURAL BRIDGE. fifty additional niches in that mighty wall, and now finds himself directly under the middle of that vast arch of rock, earth, and trees. lie must cut his way in a new direction to get from this overhanging mountain. The inspiration of hopo is in his bosom ; its vital heat is fed by the increasing shouts of hundreds perched upon cliffs and trees, and others who stand with ropes in their hands upon the bridge above, or with ladders below. Fifty more gains must be cut before the longest rope can reach him. His wasting blade strikes again into the limestone. The boy is emerging painfully, foot by foot, from under that lofty arch. Spliced ropes are in the hands of those who arc leaniug over the outer edije of the bridge. Two minutes more, and all will be over. That blade is worn to the last half-inch. The boy's head reels ; his eyes are starting from their sockets. His last hope is dying in his heart; his life must hang upon the next gain he cuts. That niche is his last. At the last flint gash he makes, his knife — his faithful knife — falls from his little nerveless hand, and, ringing along the precipice, falls at his mother's feet. An involuntary groan of despair runs like a death-knell through the channel below, and all is still as the grave. At the height of nearly three hundred feet, the devoted boy lifts his devoted heart and closing eyes to commend his soul to God. 'Tis but a moment — there ! one foot swings off ! — he is reeling — trembling — toppling over into eternity ! Hark ! — a shout falls on his ears from above ! The man who is Wins with half his length over the bridge has caught a glimpse of the boy's head and shoulders. Quick as thought the noosed rope is within reach of the sinking youth. No one breathes. With a faint, convulsive effort, the swooning boy drops his arm into the noose. Darkness comes over him, and with the words ''God ! " and " mother ! " whispered on his lips just loud enough to be heard in heaven — the tightening rope lifts him out of his last shallow niche. Not a lip moves while he is dangling over that fearful abyss ; but when a sturdy Virginian reaches down and draws up the lad, and holds him up in his arms before the tearful, breathless multitude — such shouting, and such leaping and weeping for joy, never greeted a human being so recovered frpm the yawning gulf of eternity ! '' fj i^ ,^>iiyu HCl tW^oZ ElIHU BURRITT. 'Zy\A (X VtrOif. 1 n^'-- "t 1 rl*>vu. h IC'-'"-*.. i now finds irch of rock, 7 direction to ition of hopo ling shouts of rs who stand ve, or with , before the strikes again , foot bv foot, the hands of bridge. Two 3 worn to the starting from eart; his life lie is his hist, ithful knife — ig along thf! ary groan of lel below, and three hundred losing eyes to ; — there! one ling over into above ! The bridge has Quick as Inking youth, the swooning es over him, Ipered on his e tightening a lip moves hen a sturdy id holds him lltitude — such ever greeted of eternity! BURRITT. 10 THE LAKK OF THK DISMAL SWAMP. THE LAKE OF THE DISMAL SWAMP. loo *' They tell of ft young mftn who lout hl» mind upon the death of a girl he lored, and who, suddenly diBappearing from hid friundfl. was nevur afterwardn heard uf. A» he frequently Bald in iiiB ravlncn that the girl wa» not dead, but gone to the IMnmal Swamp, it in Hunponed he had wantlered into that dn-ary wildemesB, and had died of liunger, or bc»'n lost in Bonio of its dreadful nioraBHCH."— Anon. " TiiKT made her a grave, too cold and damp For a soul so warm and true, And she's gone to the Lake of tlio Dismal Swamp, Where, all night long, by a fire fly-lamp, She paddles her white canoe. And her fire-fly lamp I soon shall see. And her paddle I soon shall hear ; Long and loving our life shall be, And I'll hide the maid in a cypress tree, When the footstep of death is near ! " Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds His path was rugged and sore — Through tangled juniper, beds of reeds, Through many a fen where the serpent feeds, And man never trod before ! And when on the earth he sank to sleep, — If slumber his eyelids knew, — He lay, where the deadly vine doth weep Its venomous tear, and nightly steep The flesh with blistering dew ! And near him the she-wolf stirred the brake, And the copper-snake breathed in his ear, Till he, starting, cried, from his dream awake, *' Oh ! when shalLI see the dusky Lake, And the white canoe of my dear ? " He saw the Lake, and a meteor bright Quick over its surface played — " Welcome," he said, " my dear one's light ! " And the dim shore echoed, for many a night The name of the death-cold maid ! 136 iLi-' k THE AMERICAN EAGLE. Till he hollowed a boat of the birchen bark, Which carried him off from shore ; Far he followed the meteor spark, The wind was high, and the clouds were dark, And the boat returned no moie. But oft, from the Indian hunter's camp, This lover and maid so true, Are seen at the hour of midnight damp, To cross the Lake by a fire fly-lamp. And paddle their white canoe. q JiiJ. >i^.CMJ'^-^ti/>Ad^ KCt'^-^ .>l% i, however. male bird 8, with an error than moment to les through :ning comes md despair, )t* his cruel blunge into h, possessed ^wan might tempting to an. It has fails at the St. Its last strikes with listed power the nearest his dreaded lis prey, he a down his he heart of els the last his* efforts The female , if she did im want of power and She now en she has kless ^wan of North J>art of the I. — Wood '3 CORTEZ IN MEXICO. 139 n >IEETING OF CORTEZ AND MONTEZUMA. CORTEZ IN MEXICO. Among those who were called forth by the voyages of discovery, chiefly set afloat by Spain, was Cortez, a man so deeply cqn- cerned in the doings of these times that his name is inseparably associated witli the history of Mexico. "^ Mexico was discovered by Grijalva, a lieutenant of Diego Velasquez ; but to Cortez was committed the conquest of the newly-found country. The people, who had thus b^n brought into connection with the Spaniards, had already laid aside many of their old customs ; and when the vessels of Cortez lay to, and the governor went ashore, he found them no longer rude and half-claa savages, but people well dressed in cotton garments, and living in stone houses. The natives received the strangers with hostility ; wild rumors were abroad of what cruel excesses the Spaniards had already been guilty ; and so a battle ensued, which ended in the triumph of the Spaniards. The monarch of Mexico was named Montezuma, and he now sent to learn the object of the visit of Cortez. The Spaniard demanded a per- 140 COUTEZ IN MEXICO. sonal interview with the monarch ; this was respectfully but firmly declined. Hostilities were renewed, and Cortez marched towards the capital. The vast plajns of Mexico opened before them, wearing an aspect of tempting prosgerity. In the middle of the plain, partly encamped by a lake, and partly built en the island within it, towered aloft the cjty of Mexico, like some gorgeous fairy-land city. The Spaniards could scarcely believe their serjses : h seemed more like \ splendid vision than reality. Montezuma received the strange/>. with great pomp and kind- adigitted them into the city ; appropriated to their use ness splendid accommodations ; supplied all their wants, and pre- sented them with gifts. Cortez was greatly astonished at wh?it had befallen him. He expected hostilities, a 1 was met with hospitality. But he found himself shut up iu the midst of a vast city ; and. naturally Guspicious, began to fear treachery on the part of his entertainers. A bold expedient occurred to him, which a good many people would have hesitated to attempt, but which he successfully carried through. He seized the person of the king, imprisoned him in his own palace, and so worked upon his mind that he at length induced the monarch to acknowledge himself as a servant of Spain, and to engage to pay an annual tribute. Shortly after this, Cortez was recalled to Spain. Cruelties, of which he had set the example, were carried on to so extravagant an extent as to drive the Mexicans into revolt ; so that, on his return, he found a native army in the field, nis own forces weakened and dispirited, and but ill prepared for a fresh cam- paign. But Cortez never fled from danger — he had the merit of courage, if no other ; and something of his own determination he communicated to his followers. Battle followed battle with varying success. As of old, the people were hunted down like wild beasts ; and the deep bay of the blood-hound was heard through the night. As a last resource, Cortez brought out Montezuma, whom he had held in captivity, placed him in the fore part of the tight, and instructed him to order his people to desist. The monarch did the bidding of his conqueror, and with bowed heads and deep silence, the Mexicans obeyed. But when, still instructed by Cortez, the unhappy king spoke well of the Spaniards, the rage of his own subjects could no lon;^er be restrained. They saw that the man whom they had once respected, had no longer respect for himself ; they felt the deep indignity, and with a wild cry re-commenced the battlo. TRAPPING A TAPTll. 141 ctfully but 3Z marched med before I the middle ly built en 3, like some cely believe han reality. ) and kind- .0 their use ;s, and pre- hed at what IS met with midst of a treachery on occurred to hesitated to He seized palace, and the monarch to engage to Cruelties, of extravagant that, on his own forces fresh cam- id the merit jterraination battle with id down like was heard [brought out him in the jis people to ioueror, and ins obeyed, king spoke bs could no they had tey felt the the battl«. The first to fall was Montezuma. The people saw him in his death agony — the superstitions of their creed taught them that hea'":n's vengeance would fall upon them, for they had slain their king ; and so they turned and fied. Subsequently the war was continued; desperate resistance on one side, unrelenting cruelty on the other. Now and again it seemed that the flag of Castile would never float again upon the walls of Mexico ; Imt Cortez fought on, steadily, determinedly ; he never shrank from blood or tears, to raise the influence ot his nation. But the work he accomplished met with no magni- flcent reward. Returning to Spain, he fell into neglect, for Spain was careless of her benefactors, when her work was done. One day Cortez forced his way through the crowd that had collected about the carriage of the sovereign, mounted the door- step and looked in. Astonished it so gross a breach of etiquette, the monarch demanded to know who he was. " I am a man," replied the conqueror of ^ exico, " who has given you more provinces than your ancestors left you cities ! " And after this he withdrew from public life, brooding over his sorrow, lived in solitude and died of a broken heart. Cassell's Family Paper. TRAPPING A TAPIR. Be it understood, then, that the tapir is "at home'* in Central America, and is, indeed, one of the chief personages of its densely populated woods. Let us hear, then, what Mr, Squier has to SUV about him : — " I think it was the third dav after our arrival, when we came u])on a patch of low ground, or jungle, densely wooded, and distant perhaps half-a-mile from our encampment. At- tracted by some bright flowers. I penetrated a few y rds into the bushes, where, to my surp»:se, I came upon what appeared to be a well-beaten patii, which I followed for some distance, wondering over the various queer trucks which I observed printed here and there in the moist ground." This our author soon ascertains. Is a path worn by the pass- ing and repassing of a tapir, which he encounters coming along at a swinging trot, so as to oblige him to ascend a trae to get 142 TKAPPING A TAPIR. out of its way. On telling the Indian guides of his adventure, they proposed to trap the tapir, and forthwith commence opera- tions. " Before it became dark, Antonio and the boy went to the thicket and felled several stout trees across the path in such a manner as to form a kind of cuL-de-sac. The design of this was to arrest the animal on his return, and enable us to spear him before he could break through or disengage himself. We went to the spot early in the evening, and, as the moon did not rise uniil late, Antonio caught his hat half-full of fire-flies, whi 'v 8er> ed to guide us in the bush. He then pulled off their wings and scattered them among the fallen trees, where they gave light enough to enable us to distinguish objects with considerable clear- ness." Not being over-confident of the peaceful disposition of the intended prey, our hero takes up his position in a tree over- hanging the prth, where, while suflSciently out of harm's way, he can yet give the beast a sly drive with his lance. They wait long ; at last Antonio whispers, '' he is coming," and, " a few- moments afterwards, I could make out the beast in the dim light, driving on at the same swinging trot. Right on he came, heedless and headlong. Crash ! crash I There was a plunge and a struggle, and a crushing and trampling of branches, then a dul' sound of the heavy beast striking; against the unyielding trunks of the fali'jn trees." *' He was now fairly stopped, and with a shout my com- panions dove down apon him with their lances, which rang out a sharp metallic sound when they struck his thick, hard hide. It was an exciting moment, and my eagerness overcoming my prudence, I slipped down the tree and joined in the attack. Blow upon blow of the lances, and I could feel that mine struck deep into the flesh ; but the strokes apj)eared to give him new strength, and, gathering back, he drove again full u{)on the opposing tree, and bore it down before him. I had just leaped upon the trunk — the better to aim my lance — and went down with it headlong, almost under the feet of the struggling animal, one tramp of whose feet would have crushed me like a worm. I could have touched him he was so near. I heard the alarmed shriek of Antonio when he saw me fall, but in an instant he leaped to my side, and shortening his lance, drove it with desperate force clean through the animal, bringing him to his knees. This done he grappled me as he might an infant, and falle over VEN' \ SOKG OF THE EMIGRANTS IN BERMUDA. 148 and before I was aware of it had dragged me clear off the fallen timber. The blow of Antonio proved fatal ; the tapir fell over on his side, and in a few minutes was quite dead." — Ad- ventures ON THE Mosquito Shore. , kilo n^ Ci^JAcxl /Hu^'^'-"^ k V ■; & t »• •- '^' 'ucf c^-^-.C' - ^ SONG OF THE EMIGRANTS IN BERMUDA. Where the remote Bermudas ride In the ocean's bosom unespied, From a small boat that rowed along. The listening wind received this song : — " What should we do but sing His praise, That led us through the watery maze, Where He the huge sea monsters wracks. That lift the deep upon thjeir backs, Unto an isle so long unknown, And yet far kinder than our own ? He lands us on a grassy stage Safe from the storms and prelate's rage He gave us this eternal spring. Which here enamels every thing, And sends the fowls to us in care. On daily visits through the air, He hangs in shades the orange bright. Like golden lamps in a green night. And does in the pomegranates close Jewels more rich than Ormus shows ; He makes the figs our mouths to meet, And throws the melons at our feet ; But apples, plants of such a price. No tree could ever bear them twice. With cedars chosen by His hand From Lebanon, He stores the land ; And makes the hollow seas that roar Proclaim the ambergris on shore. He cast (of which we rather boast) The gospel's pearl upon our coast ; And on these rocks for us did frame A temple where to sound His name. 144 THE BUCCANEERS. O, let our voice His praise exalt T'U it arrive at heaven's vi^ult, ' Which then perhaps rebounding ma} Echo beyond the Mexique Bay ! " Thus sang they, in the English boat, A holy and a cheerful note ; And all the way to guide their chime, With falling oars they kept the time. A. Marvell. THE BUCCANEERS. It is nec^sary to pause, at this period, in our review of the grand maritime expeditions, which successively left the various seaports of the worloTin order to refer to a pragfice which'^was now rendering commerce hazardous and the whole highwa)' of the seas insecure — pimpy. Besides the numerous isolated adventu'^ers who preyedupon the vessels of any and evei-y nation that ie\l in their way, a powerful association, or le^ue of robbers, who infested particularly the West Indian Islands and the Caribbean Sea, and w!io bore the name of Buccaneers, became, during the century of which we are now speaking, the peculiar dread of Spanish ships. The Spaniards would not allow any other nation than their own to trade in the West Indies, and pursued and murdered the English and French wherever they found them. Every foreigner discovered among the islands, or on the coast of the American continent, was treated as a smuggler and a robber ; and it was not long before they became such, and organized themselves into an associa- tion capable of returning cruelty by cruelty. The Spaniards employed coast-guards to keep off interlopers, the commanders of which were instructed to massacre all their prisoners. This tended to produce a close alliance, offensive and defensive, among the mariners of all other nations, who in their turn made descents upon the coasts, and ravaged the weaker Spanish towns and settlements. A permanent state of hostilities was thus established in the West Indies, independent of peace or war at borne, After the failure of the mine of St. Domingo, and its abandonment by the Spaniards, it was taken possession of, early in the seventeenth century, by a number of French IfiE BtJOCANEEftS. U^ A.RVELL. ipw of the he various whiclTwas highway of us isolated and every 1, or legfi^ue ian Islands Buccaneers, )eaking, the would not 1 the West nd French lered among Itinent, was long before an associu- Spaniards ;ommarders lers. This defensive, their turn :er Spanish Itilities was \i peace or ,. Domingo, possession of FroncU wanderers vho had been driven out of St. Christopher ; and their numbers were soon augmented by adventurers from all quarters. ^ As they had neither wives nor children, they generally lived together by twos, for mutual protection and assistance ; when , one died, the survivor inherited his property, unless a will wais- found bequeathing it to some relative in Europe. Bolts, locks, and all kinds of fastenings were prohibited among them, the maxim of " honor among /hieves " being considered a more efficient safeguard. The dress of a buccaneer consisted of a shirt dipped in the blood of an animal just slain ; a leathern girdle, in which hung pistols and a short sabre ; a hat with feathers, but without a rim, except a fragment in gui'"^ of a visor, to pull it on and off ; and shoes of untanned hide without stockings. Each man had a heavy musket, and usually a pack of twenty or thirty dogs. Their business was, at the outset, cattle-hunting; and they sold hides to the Dutch, who resorted to the island to purchase them. They possessed servants and slaves, consisting of persons decoyed to the West Indies, and induced to bind themselves for a certain number of years. The Spaniards, inhabiting other portions of St. Domingo, conceived the idea of ridding the island of the buccaneers by destroying all the wild cattle ; and this was carried into execution by a general chase. The buccaneers abandoned St. Domingo, and took refuge in the mountainous and well-wooded island of Tortuga, of which they made themselves absolute lords and masters. The advantages of the situation brought swarms of adventurer's arid desperadoes to the spot; and from cattle- hunters, the buccaneers became pirates. They made their cruises in open boats, exposed to all the inclemencies of the weather, and captured their prizes by boarding. They attacked indiscriminately the ships of every nation, feeling especial hostility, and exercising peculiar cruelty towards the Spaniards. They considered themoelves to be justified in this by the oppres- sion of the Mexicans and Indians by Spanish rulers, and quieting their consciences by thus assuming the characters of avengers, and dispensers of poetic justice, they never embarked upon an expedition without publicly offering up prayers for success, nor did they ever return laden with spoils without as publicly giving thanks for their good fortune. They seldom attacked any European ships except those homeward-bound — which were usually well-.'reighted with gol(i 4 R 10 ' ' 146 THE BUCCA5JEERS. A vrs r*nd silver. The Spaniards held them in such tejjor that they I sually surrendered on coming to clo'se quarters. The spoil was equitably dmded, provision being"Tir8t made for the wounded. The loss of an arm was ratea at six hundred dollars, and other wounds in proportion. The commander could claim but one share; although, when he had acquitted himself with distinction, it was usual to co mpli ment him by the addition of several snares. "When the division was effected, the buccaneers abandoned them- selves to all kinds of rioting and licentiousness tiirtheir wealth was expended, when they started in pursuit of new booty. The iSuccaneers now rapidly increased in strength, daring, and numbers. They sailed in larger vessels, and undertook enterprises requiring great energy and audacity. Miguel de Basco captured, under the guns of Portobello, a Spanish galleon valued at a million of dollars. A Frenchman of the name of Montbars, conceived so deadly a hatred for the Spaniards, and killed so many of them, that he obtained the title of " The Exterminator." But the fame of all the buccaneer comnanders was eclipsed by that of Henry Morgan, a Welchmar The boldest and most astonishing of his exploits was his forcing his way across the Isthmus of Darien, from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean. His object was to plunder the rich city of Panama : his expedition, however, opened the way to the great Southern Sea, where the buccaneers laid the foundation of much of our geographical knowledge of that ocean. He first took the Castle of San Lorenzo, at the mouth of the river Chagres, where, out of three hundred and fourteen Spaniards, he put two hundred to death. He left five hundred men in the castle, one hundred and fifty on board of his thirty-seven ships, and with the rest — who, after deducting the killed and wounded, amounted to about twelve hundred men — began his progress through a wild and trackless country, which was then known only to the native Indians. After a desperate combat with the Spaniards, he took and plundered Panama, which then consisted of about seven thousand houses. He returned to the mouth of the Chagres with an enormous booty, and after defrauding the fleet of their shares of spoils, sailed for Jamaica, which was already an English colony. He was made deputy-governor of the island by Charles the Second, by whom he was also knighted. He proved an efficient officer, and gave no quarter to the Buccaneers. »--The Sea and Her Famous Sailors. Theri Garde Jane a| dirty This inches same thread papa o Youh the wa "Th buildin, hangin* "Th believe "No to a pei of mine roof w; He got hair wr ner; bu Spaniar upon m nearly f quickly "I s; difficultj " Ind( here wl: charm t his lips, fingers a or the dug for 1 he insta and all stung, ai A VISIT to THE BOTANIC GARDES'S Ot* feT. \^^'CENT. 147 that ttey i spoil was ! wounded, and other m but one distinction, eral^ares. loned them- [leir wealth >oty. rth, daring, undertook Miguel de oish galleon he name of Einiards, and le of "The :omr.ianders mar The forcing his in tic to the rich city of to the great on of much irst took the gres, where, wo hundred ne hundred the rest — nounted to 5ugh a wild the native ds, he took ibout seven le Chagres eet of their already an the island ghted. He Buccaneers. A VISIT TO THE BOTANIC GARDENS OF ST. VINCENT. There was little worth noticing about the house in the Botanic Garden — it was in very bad repair ; but one thing soon caught Jane and Susan's observant eyes, and chat was something of a dirty light clay color, hanging from the roof in many places. This thing was of a flattish oval form, about eight or ten inches long, and was suspended by a substance like glue, of the same color, and not thicker than a piece of common pack- thread. They looked so long at these bags hanging, that their papa observed them, and said, " Those are Jack Spaniards' nests. You have already seen them ; you recollect I told you they were the wasps of the West Ii dies. " They are very troublesome," said Mr. Elliot, " in all old buildings, and by-and-by, I will show you plenty of them hanging in trees, where they also make their nests." " They sting very severely," said Colonel Maxwell ; " but I believe they seldom attack any one unprovokedly." " Not often," said Mr. Elliot ; " but they may be attracted to a person by the perfume of any thing they like ; and a friend of mine, who was dining in the country, in a house where the roof was full of nests, was a sad sufferer from them lately. He got in very hot, just in time for dressing, and rubbed his hair with honey-water ; immediately after he sat down to din- ner ; but the perfume of the honey-water attracted the Jack Spaniards to such a degree that, in a second they all pounced upon my friend's head, and stung him so severely that he was nearly frantic, although he plunged his head in cold water as quickly as possible." " I suppose," said Mrs. Maxwell, " it is a service of great difficulty to destroy their nests." "Indeed it is," said Mr. 'Elliot; "but I have a negro lad here who does it most successfully, and who' pretends he can charm them by holding the green leaf of some weed between his lips, when he goes up very softly to the nest, and with his fingers and tljuiib breaks the attachment of the nest to the roof or the tree, cari'ies it most gravely and quietly to a hole dug for the purpose, and dropping it down slowly and cautiously, he instantly places a turf upon the top, and consigns the nest and all its troublesome inmates to a living grave. He is never stung, and I have seen him frequently perform the operation.'' 148 A VISIT TO THE B6TANIC GARDENS Ot' ST. VINCENT. " And now, young ladies, I am going to show you what I won't call an ugly, but certainly one of the most troublesome weeds in the West Indies." They suw before them a weed covered with pretty, small, delicate, pink blossoms, with very elegant-looking leaves ; the plant was thick and bushv, and several feet high. " Touch it," said Mr. Elliot. " It is covered with thorns," said Jane. " Well," said Mr. Elliot, " come near it, and wave your hand close to it. * The leaves all closed. , " How curious ! " said the children. " What is it ? " said Mr. Elliot. " It cannot be, and yet, somehow, I think it must be the sensitive plant," said Jane; " but I never saw it except in a hot-house at home, and I had no idea it grew in its own home to such a size." " It does," said Mr. Elliot ; *' and I show it to you as an example of the great effect climate has upon plants, far more than people, who, generally speaking, if they are prudent, live and often enjoy excellent health in all different climates, while it is next to impossible for art to produce plants in the same perfection and health as in their natural climates. You are sur- prised at the great height and strength of the sensitive plant ; but now I am going to show you a shrub, for here we 'cannot by any art make it grow taller than a shrub, though in England it is the pride of the forest." " What a curious looking stunted oak ! " said Susan ; " what an ugly thing ! " " I daresay you think so," said Mr. Elliot ; " but I can tell you, my little lady, that were you to live as long as I have done without seeing your own country, you would love this little oak, diminutive as it is, because it would seem something belonging to home ; and, hfbwever happy we may be abroad, there is something wrong about our hearts if we forget o.ur home ; but I am sure there is no fear of the daughter of a brave British officer doinsr that." " No, indeed," said Susan, " we sha'n't do that, although England may not be so pretty or so curious a country." " I am not sure of that," said Mr. Elliot ; " for where we are unaccustomed to all around us, we naturally fancy it more curious b curiosities most beai so r"ch, ai admirinir country." Mr. Elll megs, and explain tc had no i< when drie so exactly in Englai] then show the West J disagreeab! sometimes This tree, — JUVENII ! Whi And Amii A CO Fair Spar The3 Whe The In m Eart] Amb O'er Natu In all Proc^ §bel THE WEST INDIA ISLANDS. 149 curious because more uncommon. Enjjland abounds in natural curiosities ; though, I must allow, after having seen some of the most beautiful spots in England, I am not sure that I ever saw so r'ch, and at the same time so grand a view, as we are now admiring of the Bay of Kingstown and the surrounding country." Mr. Elliot showed his visitors his young plantation of nut- megs, and was kind enough to cut off the only ripe one to explain to his young friends how the nutmeg grew, for they had no idea that the nutmeg was inclosed in rind, which, when dried, was called mace. Indeed, it looked, when fresh, so exactly the color and size of an apricot, that, had they been in England, they would have taken it for one. Mr. Elliot then showed them the jack-fruit, which is very uncommon in the West Indies ; the fruit is large and coarse, and has a very disagreeable smell. Mr. Elliot told them " that the fruit sometimes grew so immense as to weigh thirty pounds." This tree, in the Botanic Garden, was the only one in the Island. — Juvenile Forget-me-not. THE WEST INDIA ISLANDS. Where first his drooping sails Columbus furled, And sweetly rested in another world. Amidst the heaven-reflecting ocean, smiles A constellation of El^an isles ; Fair as Orion when he mounts on hij;h. Sparkling with midnight splendor from the sky ; They bask beneath the sun's meridian rays, Where not a shadow breaks the boundless blaze ; The breath of ocean wanders through their vales, In morning breezes and in evening gales : Earth from her lap perennial verj;|yre pours, Amb|;gsial fri^its and amaranthine flojj^ers ; O'er the wild mountains aruT luxuriant plains, Nature in all the pomp of beauty reigns. In all the pride of freedom. Nature free Proclaims that Man was born for liberty. She flourishes where'er the sunbeams play 150 8HAKK ADVEXTLTIE IN PANAMA. •■>-*-■*- '/(a O'er living fountains, sallying into day ; She withers where the waters cease to roll, And night and winter stagnate round the pole. Man, too, where freedom's beams and fountains rise, Springs from the dust, and blossoms to the slcies : Dead to the joys of light and life, the slave Clings to the clod, his root is in the grave : Bondage is winter, darkness, death, despair ; Freedom, the sun, the sea. the mountains, and the air. ci' W /L .1''. ■ Ju-^" SHARK ADVENrUllE IN PANAMA. A NATIVE of the country, called Don Pablo Ochon, who was for many years the superintendent of the fishery, and who was himself a practical diver, relates the following adventure, which he says happened to him in one of his submarine excursions. Pie had been told of a reef, on which it was said that a great number of large oysters might be found, and after a great deal of trouble he succeeded in discovering it. Hoping to pick up some fine specimens of shells, Don Pablo dived to a depth of eleven fathoms. The rock was not more than one hundred and fifty or two hundred yards in circumference. He swam round it and examined it without seeing any thing to induce him to prolong his stay under water. As there were no oysters to be seen, he was preparing to ascend, and he looked up, as divers generally do, to be sure that no monster is watching them. When Don Pablo raised his eyes, he saw a tintorero (a species of shark) standing sentinel over him, a few yards- above his head, wliich had probably been watching him from the time he plunged into the water. The size of this monster was so great that it was useless to think of defending himself with his pointed stick, for the horrible creature had a mouth that could have swallowed both stick and man at one mouthful. Don Pablo felt ill at ease when he saw his retreat so completely cut off ; but in the water there is not much time for reflection ; he swam, therefore, as quickly as ho could towards another point of the rock, hoping thus to deceive the vigilance of his enemy. Imagine his horror when ho again saw it hovering over his head, 1 its grea in such made I The — to be water t was on life, wh sand on imagina soon as clouds dark anc other. Don Pal the surfa Happi boatmen escaped 1 used the Pablo wl alive. — T The inhf which, on had expe: where, on and nigh I the provi: drop of ] miles aroi stryction < hot; the Thursday, churches, Mi THE EARTHQUAKE IN CARACCAS. 151 head, like a falcon watching a little bird. The shark rolled its great fiery eyes, and opened and closed its formidable jaws in such a way that for long after the very remembrance of it made Don Pablo tremble. The unfortunate diver saw only two alternatives before him — to be drowned, or to be eaten. He had been so long under water that he could not keep in his breath any longer, and he was on the point of risini? to breathe, even at the risk of his life, when he remembered all at once that he had seen some sand on one of the sides of the rock. He swam thither with all imaginable speed, always escorted by his attentive enemy. As soon as he reached the point he intended, he began to raise clouds of sand with his pointed stick, which made the water so dark and muddy that the man and the fish lost sight of each other. Then, profiting by the darkness which he had raised, Don Pablo ascended speedily in an oblique direction, and reached the surface safe and sound, but completely exhausted. Happily, he came up very near one of the boats, and the boatmen seeing him in such a pitiful state, guessed that he had escaped by some manoeuvre from an enemy. They accordingly used the ordinary means to frighten away the monster, and Don Pablo was drawn into the boat in safety, but more dead than alive. — Travel and Adventure. THE EARTHQUAKE OF CARACCAS. The inhabitants of terra firma were ignorant of the agit^ion, which, on the one hand, the volcano of the island of St. Vincent had experienced, and on the otFer, the basin of the Mississippi, where, on"the 7th and 8th February, 1812, the ground was day and night in a state of continual oscillation. At this period, the province of Venezuela laoored un'^er great drought ; not a drop of rain had fallen at Caraccas, or to the distance of 311 miles around, during the five months which pre^^eded the de- stryction of the capital. The 26th of March was exccRsively hot ; the air was calm and the sky cloudless. It was Holy Thursday, and a great part of the popuh.tion was in the churcheSf The calamities of the day were preceded by no m- 162 THE EAETHQUAKE IN CARACCAS. dications of danger. At seven minutes after four in the evening, the first commotion was felt. It was so strong as to make the bells of the churches ring. It lasted fr^ m five to six seconds, and was immediately followed by another shock of from ten to twelve seconds, during which the ground was in a constant state of undulation, and heaved like a fluid under ebullition. The danger was thought to be over, when a prodigious subter- ranean noise was heard, resembling the rolling of thunder, but louder and more prolonged than that heard within the tropics during thunder storms. This noise preceded a perpendicular motion of about three or four seconds, followed by an undulatory motion of somewhat longer duration. The shocks were in opposite directions, from north to south, and from east to west. It was impossible that any thing could resist the motion from beneath, upwards, aad the undulations crossing each other. The city of Caraccas was completely overthrown. Thousands of the inhabitants (from nine to ten thousand) uere buried under the ruins of the churches and houses. The processions had not yet set out ; but the crowd in the churches was so great that three or four thousand individuals were crushed to death by the falling in of the vaulted roofs. The explosion was stronger on the north side of the town, in the part nearest the mountains of Avila and the Silla. The churches of the Trinity and Alta Gracia, which were more than a hundred and fifty feet in height, and of which ti 'TURE IX DEMERARA. 166 as far as and there VELS ArlD ERARA. ' afterward home, and d scarcely . absolutely )sely at his plaintively inexorable ; wo dogs he kv anv idea he requisition , ould have fidelity he !. The day lud Mr. A. 1 feathered iranch of «* |e should be kirt of the n one side |1 faint and is practised •om nothing Cougar, or thing was tly equally ll sight, and The sports- :e, unfortu- le thumb of p, jind thQ fourth finger of the same hand feels the trigger. Mr. A. steadily advanced ; he was not suffered to remain long in suspense ; he had proceeded but three paces, when, with a terrific cry, the Cougar (for such it was) sprang from its lair, and dashed upon him : he fired, but apparently without effect. Where were now his hounds ? They had fled at the first glimpse of the furious beast, and rent the woods with their cowardly wailings. He struck, indeed, a few blows with the butt-end of his piece, but the robber of the forest was too nimble for him ; a momentary struggle and he was upon his back. The ferocious Couga^ was standing, or rather crouching, over him ; one paw was upon his broad chest, and each protruded talon penetrating his clothes and flesh, caused a stream of blood to trickle down his side; the other paw grasped his skull, and he felt as if each claw penetrated to his brain ; his senses reeled and his blood suffused his eyes, and nearly blinded him ; still, however, this heroic American fainted not, nor ceased struggling manfully for the victory. His vigorous arms were extended, and his hands grasped the monster's throat, thus keeping him for a time from bringing into play those rapacious jaws which, as the hunter's strength declined, were gradually advancing into closer proximity with his face; — such a fearful struggle could not be of long continuance. The burning eyeballs of the Cougar glared nearer and more near still, as they looked into the blood- shot orbits of the prostrate but fearless victim ; their owner was forced to turn them aside from the encounter, as if conscious of the dastardly nature of his attack, and the superior bravery, though inferior strength, of the man upon whom he crouched. The powers of the man relaxed ; nature had done her utmost — she was at length exhausted. The darkness of despair was on the point of plu^iging his senses in unconsciousness, and death was about to seize upon his victim, when the brushwood behind him cracked, and yielded before a heavyweight; the . y of a blood-hound awoke him to consciousness and hope large animal bounded on the merciless foe : the shock > .icd the animal from its prey, and the brave hunter felt he was saved. NeeJ I explain the occasion of this truly providential and almost miraculous rescue? The favorite blood-hound, which, on quitting home, he had left behind him, had continued howling all day, as if possessing a sort of prophetic prescience of the accident by which hi. own(?r's life would be placed In such 156 THE TAITHFUL NEGRO. extreme danger ; and having at length broken loose, had gone forth in quest of his nrissing master, and found him in time, but only just in time, to save him from one of the most horrible of deaths. — From the Naturalist. THE FAITHFUL NEGRO. In 1848, the French liberated all the slaves in their various colonies without having given sufficient time for preparations. The blacks made instant use of their freedom by deserting their masters and setting up little huts for themselves, with gardens, where the tropical climate enabled them to grow ull their wants required without any need for exertion. This was, of course, ruin to the owners of the large plai;tatioiis hitherto dependent on slave labor. Amonor those thus deserted was one in French Guiana, named La Parterre, and belonging to a lady, a widow with a large family. Out of seventy negro slaves not one remained on the estate excei)t Paul Dunez, who had become a sort of foreman, and who promised his mistress that he would do his utmost for her. He tried at first to obtain some hired labor ; but, not succeeding, he tried to keep as much as possible under cultivation, though he had no one to help him but his wife and young sons. The great difficulty was in keeping up the dikes which fence out the coast f ronl the sea, on that low marshy coast of northern South America, a sort of tropical Holland. Day after day was Paul laboring at the dikes, and at every spring-tide he would watch for two or three nights together, so as to be ready to repair any break in the embankment. This went on for thirty-two months, and was labor freely given without hire for faithful loyalty's sake : but at last the equinoctial tides of 1851 were too much for Paul's single arm — he could not be at every breach at once, and the plantation was all laid under water. To work he set again to repair the damage as best he might, and the government at Cayenne, hearing of his exertions, resolved to assign to him a prize which had been founded for the most meritorious laborer in the colony, namely, the sum of 600 francs, and admission for his son into the college at the THE HCMMrNG BIED. 157 , had gone m in time, )st horrible capital. But Paul's whole devotion was still for his mistress. Her son, not his son, was sent to the college, and the 600 francs were expended in fitting out the boy as became the former circumstances of his family, in whose service Paul continued to spend himself. The next year his name was sent up to Paris, and the first prize of virtue was decreed to him for his long course of self- denying exertions. — Book of Golden Deeds. leir various reparations, serting their ith gardens, their wants s, of course, o dependent 3 in French ly, 11 widow es not one had become ss that he t to obtain !ep as much to help him Ity was in the sea, on la, a sort of Irins at the Ifor two or Ly break in lonths, and laity's sake : much for It once, and 1st he might, exertions, founded for the sum of liege at th© THE HUMMING-BIRD. The humming bird ! the humming bird ! So fairy like and bright ; It lives among the sunny flowers, A creature of delight ! In the radiant islands of the East, Where fragrant spices grow, A thousand thousand humming-birds Go glancing to and fro. Like living fires they flit about, Scarce larger than a bee. Among the brortd palmetto leaves, And through the fan-palm tree ; And in those wild and verdant woods. Where stately mosses tower, Where hangs from branching tree to tree The scarlet passion flower ; Where on the mighty river banks, La Platte and Amazon, The cavman, like an old tree trunk, Lies basking in the sun ; Thei here builds her nest the humming bird, Within the ancient wood — Her nest of silky cotton down — And rears her tiny brood. 158 AN ADVENTtJRft IN BRAZIL. She hangs it to a slender twig, Where waves it light and free. As the campanero tolls his song. And rocks the mighty tree. , All crimson is her shining breast, Like to the red, red rose ; Her wing is the changeful green and blue That the neck of the peacock shows. Thou happy, happy humming-bird, No winter round thee lowrs ; Thou never saw'st a leafless tree, Nor land without sweet flowers. / , A reign of summer joyfulnest To thee for life is given ; Thy food, the honey from the flower, . Thy drink the dew from heaven ! ^ AM'^J^"^ H^"^' ^''^'' HOWITT. // AN ADVENTURE IN BRAZK.. During my stay at Rio de Janeiro, I had heard so much of the rapidly-increasing prosperity of Petropolis, — a German colony lately founded in the neighborhood, — of the magnificent scenery amidst which it lies, of the primeval forests through which one part, of the road leads, that 1 could not resist the wish to make an excursion to it. My travelling companion, Count Berthold, was of the party, and we, therefore, engaged two places in a boat that goes daily to Port d'Estrello, about twenty-two leagues off — whence the joarney must be performed by land, and as the Count wished to botanize, and I to collect insects, we determined to make it on foot. We passed the night at this little port, which carries on a considerable trade with the interior of the country, and the next morning set out on our pedestrian ramble. We soon found ourselves in a broad valley, mostly overgrown with thick shrubs and young trees, and surrounded by lofty mountains. The sides of the road which AK AbVEKTUkE In fetlAZtt. lo^ fortn the principal communication with the province of Minaa Geraes, were adorned by the wild pine-*pple, not yet ripe, jiit glowing with a lovely rosy red-color ; the taste of the ♦ruit is, however, not quite equal to its appearance, and it is thereiore seldom plucked. The sight of the humming-birds also afforded me great pleasure. One can fancy nothing prettier than these delicate little creatures, as they hover about, getting their food out of the cups of flowers, like butterflies, for which, indeed, in their rapid flight, they may easily be mistaken. The appearance of the forest did not quite fulfil my pre-conceived notions, as I had expected thick and high trunks of trees ; but I believe the power of vegetation is too strong for vhi- ; the large trees are choked and rotted by the mass of smaile ones, of creepers and parasites, that spring up around thcL . Both the latter are so abundant, and cover these trees so entirely, that one can often hardly see their leaves, much less t eir trunks. A botanist here assured me that he had Qf xnted, on a single tree, six and thirty different species. We had made a rich harvest of flowers, plants, and insects, and were pursuing our way, enchanted by the glories of the woods, and not less by the views of mountain and valley, sea and bay, which opened to us from time to time ; and as we approached a ridge of mountain, 3,000 feet high, which we had to ascend, we met several troops of negroes and other passengers. It did not, therefore, occur to us to take much notice of the movements of a single negro who appeared to be following us. As soon, however, as we had reached a rather solitary spot, he suddenly sprang on us, with a long knife in one hand and a lasso in the other, and gave us to understand, by very expressive gestures, that it was his intention to murder us and drag us into the wood. We- had no weapons — for this part of the road had been represented to us as quite safe — and nothing to defend ourselves with but our umbrellas. I had, however, in my pocket, a penknife, which I instantly drew out, and opened, fully resolved to sell my life as dearly as possible. We warded off several blows which our assailant aimed at us, but the umbrellas did not hold out long. He broke mine short off, so that only the handle, was left in my hand ; but, in the struggle, he dropped his long knife. I darted after it, but he was quicker, and getting hold of it again, gave me with it two deep cuts in the arm. Despair, however, gave me courage, and I made a thrust at his breast with my pocket-knife, but I only wounded m.... 160 AN ADVENTURE IN IJRAZiL. his hand, and he threw me down. The Count now seized hinl from behind, and this gave me the opportunity of gfttinnj up again ; but my companion had received a severe wound, ii:id it would certainly have been all over with us had we not heard on the road the sound of horsemen approaching. As soon as the negro distinguished this sound he desisted from his attack, and, gnashing his teeth like a wild beast, fled into the wood. Imme- diately afterwards the riders made their appearance round a turning in the road ; we hastened towards them, and the appear- ance of our umbrellas, and our freshly-bleeding wounds, soon explained our condition. They inquired what direction the fugitive had taken, sprang from their horses, and hastened after him, but they would scarcely have overtaken him had not two negroes lent their assistance. He was at length brought in, tied f;ist, and when he refused to walk, received such a shower of heavy blows on the head that I thought the poor creature's skull must have been beaten in. He remained, nevertheless, lying on the ground, quite motionless, until the two other negroes were compelled ii take him up and carry him to the nearest house, struggling, and making furious attempts to bite. It was not till afterwards that I learned that he had been, a short time before, punished by his master for some offence, and when he met us in the wood, he probably thought it would be an excellent opportunity to revenge himself on the whites. The Count and I got our wounds bound up, and then continued our excursion, not altogether without fear, but in perpetual admiration of the lovely landscape. — Madame Pfeiffer. BRAZIUAN SCENERY CONQUEST OF PERU. 161 3ize(l him 'ttiii;:^ up kI, iiiid it heard on ion as the tack, and, . Imme- round a le appear- inds, soon iction the ened after d not two ht in, tied shower of lire's sknll less, lying er negroes he nearest e. It was short time I when he aid be an and then !ar, but in Madame CONQUEST OF PERU. HuAYNA Capae, the last monarch, under whom the country- had seen its greatest prosperity, left at his death two sons. To the one, Iluascar. he left the enyjire ; to the other Atahualpa tlio province of Quito. Atahualpa revolted, and though at first defeatril and taken prisoner, he contrived to escape, and in turn made his brother Iluascar a captive. Just at this jun(^xire the apprg p ,ch of the Spaniards was made known to Atahualpa, and he marched against them with- out dclav. On reachini; the citv of Caxamalca, Pizarro beheld tlic Peruvian army encj^nped with a def his usual up in his lie greatest approached •u to Spain ; pa book he laid be wor- Governor, [rors of w.kr On this, the Inca inquired, " Wliere am I to find your religion ? " '' In this book," said the friar. He then took the book, and, opening it, placed it to his ear. After a pyuse, he exclaimed, flinging it contemptuously down, " This has no tongue ; it tells me nothing." The friar, horrified at the act of impiety, urged his country- men to revenge the insult oft'ered to the Deity. The danger of his situation was now apparent to the Inca, and turning to his officers, his words instantly produced murmurs of anger and indignation. Pizarro then gave the signal to his troops, who immediately poured on the unfortunate Peruvians a simultaneous discharge from cannon, musketry, and crossbows. The cavalry attacked the King's body-guard, and broke through it at the first charge ; and Pizarro, following up the attack with his shield-bearers, at- tempted to take the luca alive. Now was displayed that fortitude and devoted loyalty for which the Indian of Peru is still characterized. A band of faithful nobles surrounded their sovereign, and only left his side to •throw themselves in front of the enemy. Their number rapidly decreased ; and the Inca would have died fighting for his liberty, had not Pizarro rushed forward to the litter, and, seizing Atahualpa, pulled him to the ground. On seeing their leader fall, the Peruvians conceived him slain, and immediately gave up the contest, following the practice of their ancestors. The struggle was now at an end, and the Peruvians thought only of flight, and in their terror the crowd burst through the walls and fled in every direction. Two thousand were slain within the city, and not a Spaniard had been wounded but Pizarro, who received a spear thrust in the hand. The scene which now followed baffles all description. The dreams of Spanish adventurers were now more than fulfilled ; and the reality far exceeded what had been anticipated. The oaptive Inca, seeing the base purpose for which his enemies had come, offered, if he was set at liberty, to cover the floor of his chamber with wedges of gold and silver. His ofler was received with incredulous shouts of lauirhter. and niistakiiisj it for the laugh of contempt, he started up, and stretchii; up his arms, offered to fill the room as high as he could rea This unparalleled ransom was instantly accepied, and Pi/., ro J^ent three of his soldiers to hasten the arrival of the Inca's mes- seni^ersi £f1' f f fe 164 CONQUEST OF PERU. As the Spanish soldiers passed through the country on their way to the capital, Cuzco, they were received with every mark of honor, and the ransom would soon have been levied but for t!i-.ir immorality, which defeated the ol)ject of their mission. The treasure of the country w^as collected in the different temples, and it was hastily concealed by the priests, along with the temple ornaments. The messengers were unsuccessful ; and it was only after Hernando, the brother of .Pizarro, had been sent with twenty horses, that the treaty was enforced. Twenty-six horse loads of gold, and a thousand pounds weight of silver, were biought in by this means, besides what was brought by the caciv^ues and captive -generals of the Inca. At the distribution of this enormous booty, after deducting a fifth for the king, 9,000 pesos (ounces) of gold fell to the share of each soldier, besides 300 marcas (eiglit ounces each) of silver. The share of the commander-in-chief was enormous, amounting to a7,120 pesos of gold, and 2,o.)0 marcas of silver, and the gold tablet taken from the litter of the Inca, valued at 25,000 pesos. , Their avarice was now satisfied : and the next struggle was for ambition — a struo^le which was fatal to these daring men — laying them in succession in a bloody grave. For some time Pizarro governed the country by means of the fallen King ; but his ambition was not satisfied with this — he resolved to govern in his own name alone. The Inca was ac- cused of plotting insurrection, and he was shamefully put to death, with many of his nobles. One of his sons was placed as a puppet on the throne, and Pizarro, in the year 1553, took possession of the royal city of Cuzco, after a long but ineffectual resistance of the Peruvians. The city was given up to pillage, and the spoil, when divided, afforded to each soldier 4,000 pesos, tliough the number of the claimants was 480. But the nml- titude who followed the army soon plundered the plunderers. Pizarro had now reached the height of his ambition, having nothing more to hope fur, but every thing to fear. Dissension and rebellion broke out in the empire, and, worse than all, the Spaniards quarrelled among themselves. Almagro, a man of great bravery, though unequal to Pizarro in cunning, unsatisfied with his position, tjok up arms against him, but was defeated, taken prisoner, and strangled. Soon after, Pizarro. now the Marquis de las Ohazcas, was assassinated, i'uUiug a victim to the revenge of Diego, the son of Aim the cai sustains the sam anrelen SI A MARV good fol pathos the Lioi investiga ticity of Durin< Paraguaji the catti soft persi inhabitan garments regarded on all the sea had, e dwelt on i how the however, who were subject, i thinking. What ij tliat out ii there was Indians, w (lid not ch( l)is camp 1) for bread, to go into outskirts o: banner of STOKv OF MIALDOXATA AND Ti^lE PUMA. 165 on their ery mark ivied but r mission. different long with iccessful ; arro, had enforced. [Is weight what was ca. deducting ell to the !S each) of enormous, 5 of silver, , valued at ruirsle w^as laring men means of ,h this — He ca was ac- lUy put to as placed 1553, took ineffectual to pillage, 000 pesos, the mul- ilunderers. n, having Dissension |an all, the a man of unssitistied defeated, lazcas, was \o, the son of Almagro, whom he had caused to be strangled. Thus ended the career of the most remarkable man of his age, who hac" * sustained his fortune by the most consummate daring, and at the same time, I am bound to say, by many acts of fraud and unrelenting cruelty. — Annals of Romantic Adventure. STORY OF MALDONATA AND THE PUMA. A MARVELLOUS legend concerning a puma is treasured by the good folks of Buenos Ajres — a legend that for romance and pathos quite eclipses the world-famed story of Androcles and the Lion ; and I am bound to state, that the most thorough investigation has discoven.'d no reason for doubting the authen- ticity of the one legend mere than the other. During the government of Don Diego de Mendoza, in Paraguay, a direful famine swept the land. A murrain fell on the cattle, and the hari-liearted earth, lacking the rain's soft persuasion, refused to yield a single green blade. As the inhabitants sauntered listlessly through the silent streets, their garments hung sluttishly on their lean bodies ; and as they regarded each other with eyes great with hunger, they thought on all they had heard of the way in which famishing men at sea had, ere now, assuag(!d their appetites ; and the more they dwelt on it, the more excusable the thing appeared. That was how the strong, gaunt men, viewed the matter ; it is probable, however, if the tender youth of the city, and the little men who were onstitutioualjy plump, had been consulted on the subject, they would prohably have been of a different way oi thinking. What LT .de the desti ution more aggravating was the fact, tliat out hf the eci'.i'.fry, and beyond Don Diego's jurisdiction, there was food in ploniv ; hut the food was in the hands of the Indians, with wlioni the S|»;inish governor was at war, and he (lid not choose that his subjects shoulrt reveal the weakness of his camp by appearing before l^he enemy as lean beggars suing for bread. To this end, he forbade the people, onpaiu of death, to go into the field«i in search of relief, placing soldiers at the outskirts of the city, tc shoot down all deserters from the pala baauer of hun^ , that hung over Don Diego's dominions. it i\ „..,.•/,**-'■ 1G6 STOr.y OF MALDOXATA AND THE PUMA. ii ['^m : m wl' ;K:|: yflu^-' Mm I i Many made the attempt, and were duly brought down by ihe ballet, much to the satisfaction of the animated carrion bones- and-feathers, that perched disconsolate on the city walls. At last, however, a woman, named Maldonata, cheated soldiers, vultures, and all, and fled into the open country. How long a time elapsed before l)er indomitable courage was rewarded with a meal, the legend does not record; but, »'heii night came, and Maldonata required a lodging, she crept into a cavern and there crouched down to sleep. By-and-by, how- ever, she was roused bv the most melancholy moaninjjs, and. raising her head, her astonished eyes met those of a great female puma pacing up and down before the cavern entrance. Th* puma presently paused in its uneasy pacing, and approached Maldonata with the full intention, as that person naturally su])- posed, of eating her up ; but wonderful to relate, instead ot falling on her tooth and nail, it merely applied its tongue, and kicked Maldonata's hand, as a lap-dog might, htrs being the lap it ■was familiar with. The fact, however, was, the poor puma was about to become a mother ; and when the cubs were born and the animal out of its trouble, it still maintained the friendly spirit it had at first evinced, and signified, as plainlv as a dumb beast could, its desire that Maldonata should con nue to make herself at home — cheerfull}' taking upon it, J the whole responsibility of providing food for the entire family. This state of things continued till the cubs grew up and went about their business, as did their parent, leaving Maldonata to shift for herself. But venturing abroad, she speedily fell into the hands of the soldiers, who brought her back to Buenos Ayres, and took her before Don Francis Ruez De Galen, who then commanded in Mendoza's stead. " Take her," said De Galen, who was a man of coarse and bloody mind, " take her into the forest, and bind her to a tree ; as to her death, let starvation and the wild beasts settle it amongst them." So poor Maldonata was taken, and tied, and left in the forest. Curioup to know the fate of the woman, however, the same company of soldiers, two days afterwards, visited the spot. when, instead of finding, as they confidently expected, the empty waist chain dangling from the tree, and the victim^ tattered and talon-torn rags strewing the ground, there she was. alive, with a great female puma keeping sentry before her, and guarding her from a host of other pumas and jaguars that chafed and mouthed on every side. As soon as the guardian 1 VIA. lown by ihc irrion bones- Y walls. At ted soldiers. courajre was I; but, v'hen e crept into and-by, how- Danings, and. great female ;rance. Tlu [ approached laturally sup- ;, instead ot , tongue, and ;ing the lap it )or puma was ere born and the friendly Iv as a dumb nue to make i the whole ew up and y Maldonata speedily fell c to Buenos Galen, who said De d, " take her r death, let n." So poor St. rer, the same ed the spot. expected, the the victim's* here she was. jfore her, and jaguars that the guardian !r, THE GArCHO OF THE PAMPAS. 167 puma saw the .soldier;!, she, with the rest of the savage beasts, retired ; and then, having been released from hei bonds, Mal- donata related the story of the puma in the cavern, and liow that it, and the one that had protected her through two long days and nights, were identical. Hearing this, the soldiers ventured to represent the case to De Galen ; who, ashamed to avow himself more heartless than a puma, pardoned Maldonata, uud sent her home to her family. — Wild Sports of the World. THE GAUCHO OF THE PAMPAS. TiORN in the rude hut, the infant Gaucho receives little atten- tion, but is left to swing from the roof in a bullock's hide, the corners of which are drawn towards each other by four strips of hide. In the first year of his life, he crawls about without clothes, and I have more than once seen a mother give a child of this age a sharp knife, a foot long, to play w'th. As soon as lie walks, his infantine amusements are those which prepare him for the occupation of his future life ; with a lasso made of twine he tries to catch little birds, or the dogs, as ihey walk in and out of the huts. By the time he is four years old he is on horseback, and becomes useful by assisting to drive the cattle into the village. The manner in which these children ride is extraordinary ; if a horse tries to es<:;'pe from the flock which is being driven to the corral, a child may frequently be seen to pursue and overtake him, and then bring him back, flogging him the whole way ; in vain the creature tries to dodge and escape, for the child always keeps close to him ; and it is a curious fact, that a mounted horse is alway.^ able to overtake a loose one. His amusements and occupations soon become more manly ; careless of the holes which undermine the plains, and which are very dangerous, he gallops after the ostrich, the gama, the lion, and the tiger ; he catches the wild cattle, and then drags them to the hut, either for slaughter or to be mark(-d. He breaks in the young horses, and in these occupations is often away from his hut many days, changing his horse as soon as the animal is tired, and sleeping on the ground. His constant .. f I' f' ^;>V iMiiM 168 THE GAtJCHO Ol^ tHl-: PA^iPVS. .')-i.( food is beef and water ; his ooiiSt.itution i.. so ^f.mrnie smile A lion w; l-^ set wit I>iit der>p ^Vlappod rrn Then, Ion All green 1! •i.:.'' f -i h Hi .< 1 i*'. I .1] A NATIONAL SONG. Of flowers that bloom in i^artlens lair, that bloom in '^noadowri ^ haa my choice of all that blow, and I chose me only ^i je ; But I must have them all or none, — the first one that chose Was the Queen of all the Flowers that be — the red, tlio royal Rose ! >(«■ >J^^A The Rose tliat blooins upon the rock, and lets the salt sea-spriy Drift o'er her cheek, nor asks if ^his be answer or be J^iay ; She Icjws not down her stately head for any breeze that blows, She smiles in kindness on her friends, in pride upon her foes. A lion \v:itchc;s by her foot, and all her irallant stem * t Is set with thorns, ah ! woe betide the hand that touches them . l»nt deep witiiin the Rose's h.vart. in many a silken fold, \\*iap[)ed ronn