work on the subject, he has ably proved this curious relic of the past, to be the work of Oliver Cromwell."* The next paper which we took up was the New Holland Times. In this, likewise, we found some highly important intelligence. The city of Cookopolis had increased at the last census, to 1,200,000 inhabitants, and the ministry of the emperor were represented to be in great embarrassment, in consequence of the opposition having succeeded in reducing the army to 100,000 self-acting steam soldiers, and the park of high-pressure artillery to 1000 guns. That, however, which most interested us was what follows. "The grand coral roadt between New-York and this empire, having been rendered impassable by the impossibility of getting the worms to work during the late weather, our contractors have been obliged to recur to the old, inconvenient, and tedious method of bringing the mail by Sharks. The fine coach "Waterproof," however, drawn by eight of these animals has arrived, performing the journey in six days. By this conveyance, we have received volume 2000 of the Knickerbocker, or New-York Monthly Magazine. We perceive the proprietors, encouraged by the long success of their work, have imported from the Sun that beautiful ink, which is legible in the darkest night by its own light. The editor had gone, with some friends, on a visit to the Island of Atlantis, but was expected home by the next diving bell. The poetry by their fair correspondent in Venus is still continued,¶ and is as beautiful as ever; and the article on the poetry of the southern continent displays superior abilities." * Reader of this present age, we closed the paper in astonishment. That unfathomable plunge into futurity satisfied us, and it was well it did, for the moment we lifted our eyes the whole was gone. We were reclining on the damp green sward, and a cool breeze from the Hudson played upon our fevered brow.The venerable old sage, too, had taken his leave, not, however, without informing us, that if ever we saw him again, we must never dare to penetrate the sesecrets of futurity-a promise which we most gladly gave, well satisfied, that our minds were not, as yet, prepared to comprehend all the mighty changes with which time was pregnant-and sufficiently contented not to anticipate results so mighty, by stepping out of our way. *The letters of Junius were as much written by John Horne Tooke, as they were by Oliver Cromwell.-Dr Phillpott, on the Junius Controversy. + There is no reason to doubt the possibility that all those islands may yet be connected by coral reefs.-Debrett's Voyages, Vol. I. See also Montgomery's Pelican Island. There is no animal so fierce, either in earth, or air, or sea, but may be tamed, and rendered subservient to the purposes of man.-Abbe Giour. Πᾶσα γὰρ φύσις θηρίων τε καὶ πετεινῶν, ἑρπετῶν, τε καὶ ἐναλίων, δαμά ζεται καὶ διδάμασται τῇ φύσει τῇ ἀνθρωπίνη. Επιστολη Ιάκωβ8. She then gave me some of that beautiful ink which, though of the ordinary colour in the day, shines with a lustre resembling sunshine in the night.-Persian Tales-Story of Zomor. "Sees the round tower of other days In the wave beneath him shining."-Moore's Melodies. La Terre pourra être pour Vénus l'étoile du berger et la mère des amours, comme Vénus l'est pour nous.-Fontenelle Pluralité des Mondes. ON THE MOON. FROM UNPUBLISHED VERSES ON "MIDNIGHT" BY J. ALRETKEN. But when the Empress of the hour of love, Back from her court she draws, with swift remove, Those silken curtains of the spangled zone : Athwart the welkin negligently thrown : Man! to thy view what hallowed sights are given When from the sky those meteor mists have flown! That sapphire ground-the vestibule of heaven, Which mortals sigh to tread, yet linger unforgiven! What art thou, Moon, with thy alluring eyes? The Cytherea of unclouded spheres! Thou callest the sea-the azure waves arise, Thou lookest on the land ;-all nature wears A fair aspect,-golden harvests bend Beneath the breeze, and men forget their fears! Thou bidd'st the winds that toss the deep, attend They know thy comings forth, and their hoarse murmurs end. There's nothing here, that half can equal thee; I saw thee once above the saffron sea Skyward uprising, in full glory shine Oh, heaven! as yet I feel the spell divine That then entranced me, and my heart high swells Language were weak: for language faintly tells Sultana of the skies! if, by thy shores, No barks like ours through glossy billows glide; The power that poised thee in thy nameless pride; If but for man created, are there not Is it for nothing that thy forms allot Periods to time, from which no time hath swerved? Is it but little that, by thee preserved, The swelling seas appointed changes keep; Nor mar the uses they have long subserved, Rise, in huge Cordilleras from their deep Profounds, and to th' abyss affrighted empires sweep? Is it for nothing, too, o'er fainting lands, Like, or more dear, than youth's elysian dreams When first love fires the breast, and warm hope lights her gleams? From infancy I loved thee, and will love, And mark thy golden crescent, till my sight Of young expanding bosoms; on the wave How brightly imaged! like some Nereid sprite To peep to earth awhile-man's pleasure-course, and grave! Then wouldst thou sail, to infant musings, on, Thy pilot, from heaven's host some chosen one, Oh! for the eagle's pinion to pursue Thy trackless track, the twinkling stars to see To hail thy advent sweetly all agree, And chant the pæans sweet, of vast Eternity! Sail on, thou Moon! and hold thy nightly reign, With added glories crowned, surpassing, yet the same. The French, who first explored the beautiful shores of the Mississippi, and its tributary streams, believed they had found a terrestrial paradise. Their warm and sprightly imaginations were easily excited to lively admiration by scenes so grand, so lovely, and so wild, as those presented in this boundless wilderness of woods and flowers. The great length of the magnificent rivers filled them with amazement; while the reputed wealth, and fancied productions of the country, awakened both avarice and curiosity. Delighted with this extensive and fertile region, they roamed far and wide over its boundless prairies, and pushed their little barks into every navigable stream. Their inoffensive manners procured them a favorable reception; their cheerfulness and suavity conciliated even the savage warrior, whose suspicious nature discovered no cause of alarm in the visits of these gay strangers. Divided into small parties, having different objects in view, they pursued their several designs without collision, and with little concert. One sought fame, another searched for mines of gold as opulent as those which had enriched the Spaniards in a more southern part of the same continent. One came to discover new countries, another to collect rare and nondescript specimens of natural curiosities; one travelled to see man in a state of nature, another brought the gospel to the heathen; while, perhaps, a great number roved carelessly among these interesting scenes, indulging their curiosity, or their love of adventure, and seeking no higher gratification than that which the novelty and excitement of the present moment afforded. Among the latter was Pierre Blondo, who, having served a regular apprenticeship to an eminent barber at Paris, commenced the world on his own account, in the character of valet to an excellent Dominican priest, who was about to visit America. Never were two human beings more unlike than Pierre and his master. The worthy Dominican was learned and benevolent; grave, austere, and self-denying;—the valet was a jolly, rattling madcap; who, as he never hesitated to grant a favor, or civility, to any human being, thought it right to be equally obliging to himself, and never mortified his own flesh, or his neighbour's feelings. The priest mourned over the depravity of the human race, and especially deprecated the frivolous habits of his countrymen; the valet not only believed this to be the best of all possible worlds, but prided himself particularly in being |