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him, and as he presented himself before the particular time, his welcome was boisterous. ful efforts to ride the horse before him were soon detailed, and he was challenged to make a trial himself. The hunter on this occasion, was evidently fatigued,—the pack of fresh skins he brought into the camp on his shoulders, was a mule's burthen; the torn moccasins and leggings, as well as the slow walk, all denoted a long and laborious chase.-Still, the hunter did not refuse the task; he bantered awhile with words, to see how much honour there would be in riding the horse, and when he once discovered that there was so much to be gained, his pride prompted him to accept the task.

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It was with no common interest that we watched the proceedings of the horse tamer. » The Indians, who had given up the trial in despair which the jaded hunter before me so confidently accepted, were men of powerful strength, of the most astonishing activity, and the best equestrians I ever saw, or imagined; and that they could be beaten, seemed no less than a miracle. The horse tamer approached the stallion, and examined the girth of plaited hair that held the rude trapping attached to it in its place. He took hold of the pommel, which rose like a goose neck from the saddle, to see if it was firm; then with cautious and critical care, he drew gently upon the bridle reins to see if the slip nooses at the ends which encircled the horse's snout would readily tighten, for the Osage bridle has no bit. All these things being to his satisfaction, he next proceeded to roll up an Indian blanket into a hard body, which he fastened to the long pommel of the saddle in such a way that the ends of it would firmly bind upon his thighs, if once mounted; then, with a small deer-skin thong, he tied the wooden stirrups underneath the horse, so that they could not fly above the level of the animal's belly. All preparations being ended, the tamer proceeded to mount. Four of the most powerful Indians seized hold of the animal's bridle, and pulling his head down, held the poor stallion so firmly that he could only use his heels; but in spite of their flying about, the horse tamer» gained his seat, and sang out, let him go. »

VOL. III.

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The order was accompanied by a shout, that made the welkin ring. The stallion, more than ever alarmed, gave one of his most furious efforts to throw off his burthen, but this had been anticipated, for as he threw himself, into the air, the blanket bound the rider to his seat for the second effort, that of rolling on the ground, also failed; for as the horse threw himself on his side, the tamer landed gracefully on his foot, the deer-skin thong kept the stirrups in their places, and at the next instant, as the galled jade sprang to his feet, the rider went up with him. A long, hearty, and prolonged shout followed the inimitable exhibition. The wild horse for the first time, felt the possibility of defeat, his proud bearing was already half gone, for all his succeeding efforts were those of despair. Vain indeed were his displays of power; the tiger with his deadly hold upon the haunch of the buffalo, could not be more securely fastened to his victim, than was the tamer to his. The rearing, pitching, shying, plunging, running and suddenly stopping, seemed all known before hand and met with a perfect guard, that displayed the most consummate judgment, and skill, in horsemanship. At last, the tamer» seemed tired of the cruel sport, and taking advantage of his infuriated victim, as he threw his fore feet in the air, he slipped off quietly behind him, and with a slight jerk, careened the horse over on his back, driving his head deeply into the soft turf. Stunned and confounded, the poor animal rolled upon his side, and the tamer threw his bridle over his neck and left him. The poor creature was completely conquered trembling, from head to foot, and half drowned with the profuse sweat that rolled from him like foam, he cast a look of imploring despair at the crowd, and the big tear rolled down his cheeks. His spirit was completely broken.

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A little coaxing brought him on his feet, the saddle was removed from his back, and the bridle from his head, and he walked slowly off, to be found by a singular law of his nature, associated with the pack-horses of the tribe, and waiting for the burthens of his master.

Louisiana, March, 1842.

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.

A LEGEND OF ITALY.

BY THOMAS INGOLDSBY, ESQ.

Of the Merchant of Venice there are two 4to. editions in 1600, one by Heyes and the other by Roberts. The Duke of Devonshire and Lord Francis Egerton have copies of the edition by Heyes, and they vary importantly.

It must be acknowledged that this is a very easy and happy emendation,

which does not admit of a moment's doubt or dispute.

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Readers in general are not all aware of the nonsense they have in many cases been accustomed to receive as the genuine text of Shakspeare!

Reasons for a new edition of Shakspeare's Works, by J. Payne Collier.

I believe there are few
But have heard of a Jew,

Named Shylock, of Venice, as arrant a «Screw »

In money transactions, as ever you knew;

An exorbitant miser, who never yet lent

A ducat at less than three hundred per cent,

Insomuch that the veriest spendthrift in Venice,

Who'd take no more care of his pounds than his pennies,
When press'd for a loan, at the very first sight

Of his terms, would back out, and take refuge in Flight.

It is not my purpose to pause and inquire
If he might not, in managing thus to retire,
Jump out of the frying pan into the fire;

Suffice it, that folks would have nothing to do,
Who could possibly help it, with Shylock the Jew.

But, however discreetly one cuts and contrives,

We've been most of us taught, in the course of our lives,
That Needs must when the Elderly Gentleman drives."

In proof of this rule,

A thoughtless young fool,

Bassanio, a Lord of the Tom-noddy school,

Who, by showing at Operas, Balls, Plays, and Court,

A swelling (Payne Collier would read «swilling ») «port, »

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And inviting his friends to dine, breakfast, and sup,

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Had shrunk his weak means, and was «stump'd » and « hard up, » Took occasion to send

To his very good friend

Antonio, a merchant whose wealth had no end,

And who'd often before had the kindness to lend

Him large sums, on his note, which he'd managed to spend. Antonio, said he,

"Now listen to me:

I've just hit on a scheme which I think you'll agree,
All matters considered, is no bad design,

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And which, if it succeeds, will suit your book and mine.

In the first place, you know all the money I've got,
Time and often, from you has been long gone to pot,
And in making those loans you have made a bad shot;
Now do as the boys do when, shooting at sparrows
And tom-tits, they chance to lose one of their arrows,
-Shoot another the same way-I'll watch well its track,
And, turtle to tripe, I'll bring both of them back!-
So list to my plan,

And do what you can

To attend to and second it, that's a good man!

There's a Lady, young, handsome beyond all compare, at
A place they call Belmont, whom, when I was there, at
The suppers and parties my friend Lord Mountferrat
Was giving last season, we all used to stare at.
Then, as to her wealth, her Solicitor told mine,
Besides vast estates, a pearl-fish'ry, and gold-mine,
Her iron strong-box

Seems bursting its locks,

It's stuff'd so with shares in «Grand Junctions» and «Docks, »
Not to speak of the money she's got in the Stocks,
French, Dutch, and Brazilian,

Columbian, and Chilian,

In English Exchequer-bills full half a million,

Not kites, manufactured to cheat and inveigle,

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But the right sort of flimsy,' all sign'd by Monteagle.

Then I know not how much in Canal-shares and Railways,

And more speculations I need not detail, ways

Of vesting which,. if not so safe as some think 'em,

Contribute a deal to improving one's income;
In short, she's a Mint!-

-Now I say, deuce is in 't

If, with all my experience, I can't take a hint,

And her 'eye's speechless messages,' plainer than print
At the time that I told you of, know from a squint.
In short, my dear Tony,

My trusty old crony,

Do stump up three thousand once more as a loan-I
Am sure of my game-though, of course, there are brutes
Of all sorts and sizes preferring their suits

To her, you may call the Italian Miss Coutts,

Yet Portia-she's named from that daughter of Cato's-
Is not to be snapp'd up like little potatoes,
And I have not a doubt

I shall rout every lout

Ere you'll whisper Jack Robinson-cut them all out-
Surmount every barrier,

Carry her, marry her!

-Then hey! my old Tony, when once fairly noosed,
For her Three-and-a-half per Cents-New and Reduced!»
With a wink of his eye

His friend made reply

In his jocular manner, sly, caustic, and dry,
"Still the same boy, Bassanio-never say 'die'!
-Well-I hardly know how I shall do 't, but I'll try,-
Don't suppose my affairs are at all in a hash,
But the fact is, at present I'm quite out of cash;
The bulk of my property, merged in rich cargoes, is
Tossing about, as you know, in my Argosies,
Tending, of course, my resources to cripple,-I
've one bound to England,-another to Tripoli-
Cyprus-Masulipatam-and Bombay ;-

A sixth, by the way,

I consigned t'other day

To Sir Gregor McGregor, cacique of Poyais,
A country where silver 's as common as clay.
Meantime, till they tack,

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And come, some of them, back,

What with Custom-house duties, and bills falling due,
My account with Jones, Lloyd, and Co., looks rather blue;
While, as for the 'ready,' I'm like a Church-mouse,-
I really don't think there's five pounds in the house.
But, no matter for that,

And

Let me just get my hat,

my new silk umbrella that stands on the mat,

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