of the war-hoop came pealing from the hills.

A crowd of horse

men appeared, rushing down their sides, and riding at full speed toward the village, each warrior's long hair flying behind him in the wind like a ship's streamer. As they approached the village, the confused throng assumed a regular order, and entering two by two, they circled round the area at full gallop, each warrior singing his war-song as he rode. Some of their dresses were splendid. They wore superb crests of feathers, and close tunics of antelope skins, fringed with the scalp-locks of their enemies; their shields too were often fluttering with the war-eagle's feathers. All had bows and arrows at their backs; some carried long lances, and a few were armed with guns. The White Shield, their partisan, rode in gorgeous attire at their head, mounted on a black-and-white horse. Mahto-Tatouka and his brothers took no part in this parade, for they were in mourning for their sister, and were all sitting in their lodges, their bodies bedaubed from head to foot with white clay, and a lock of hair cut from each of their foreheads.

The warriors circled three times round the village; and as each distinguished champion passed, the old women would scream out his name, in honor of his bravery, and to incite the emulation of the younger warriors. Little urchins, not two years old, followed the warlike pageant with glittering eyes, and looked with eager wonder and admiration at those whose honors were proclaimed by the public voice of the village. Thus early is the lesson of war instilled into the mind of an Indian, and such are the stimulants which excite his thirst for martial renown.

The procession rode out of the village as it had entered it, and in half an hour all the warriors had returned again, dropping quietly in, singly or in parties of two or three.

As the sun rose the next morning we looked across the meadow, and could see the lodges levelled and the Indians gathering together in preparation to leave the camp. Their course lay to the westward. We turned toward the north with our three men, the four trappers following us, together with the Indian family of Moran. We travelled until night. I suffered not a little from pain and weakness, the latter of which would have forced me to take an uncomfortable refuge in the cart, but for the aid of my former friend, the whiskey. We encamped among some trees by the side of a little brook, and here during the whole of the next day we lay waiting for Bisonette, but no Bisonette appeared. Here also two of our trapper friends left us, and set out for the Rocky Mountains. On the second morning, despairing of Bisonette's arrival, we resumed our journey, traversing a forlorn and dreary monotony of sun-scorched plains, where no living thing appeared save here and there an antelope flying before us like the wind. When noon came we saw an unwonted and most welcome sight; a rich and luxuriant growth of trees, marking the course of a little stream called Horseshoe Creek. Right gladly I can answer for myself, at least we turned toward it. There were lofty and spreading trees, standing widely asunder, and supporting a thick canopy of leaves, above a

surface of rich, tall grass. The stream ran swiftly, as clear as crystal, through the bosom of the wood, sparkling over its bed of white sand, and darkening again as it entered a deep cavern of leaves and boughs. I was thoroughly exhausted, and flung myself on the ground, scarcely able to move. All that afternoon I lay in the shade by the side of the stream, and those bright woods and sparkling waters are associated in my mind with recollections of lassitude and utter prostration. When night came I sat down by the fire, longing, with an intensity of which at this moment I can hardly conceive, for some powerful stimulant.

In the morning, as glorious a sun rose upon us as ever animated that desolate wilderness. We advanced, and soon were surrounded by tall bare hills, overspread from top to bottom with prickly pears and other cacti, that seemed like clinging reptiles. A plain, flat and hard, and with scarcely the vestige of grass, lay before us, and a line of tall misshapen trees bounded the onward view. There was no sight or sound of man or beast, or any living thing, although behind those trees was the long-looked-for place of rendezvous, where we fondly hoped to have found the Indians congregated by thousands. We looked and listened anxiously. We pushed forward with our best speed, and forced our horses through the trees. There were copses of some extent beyond, with a scanty stream creeping through their midst; and as we pressed through the yielding branches, deer sprang up to the right and left. At length we caught a glimpse of the prairie beyond. Soon we emerged upon it, and saw, not a plain covered with encampments and swarming with life, but a vast unbroken desert stretching away before us league upon league, without a bush or a tree, or any thing that had life. We drew rein and gave to the winds our sentiments concerning the whole aboriginal race of America, couched in certain concise and vigorous expressions, peculiar to us of the Anglo-Saxon breed. Our journey was in vain, and much worse than in vain. For myself, I was vexed and disappointed beyond measure; as I well knew that a slight aggravation of my disorder would render this false step irrevocable, and make it quite impossible to accomplish effectually the design which had led me an arduous journey of between three and four thousand miles. To fortify myself as well as I could against such a contingency, I resolved that I would not under any circumstances attempt to leave the country until my object was completely gained.

The

And where were the Indians? They were assembled in great numbers at a spot about twenty miles distant and there at that very moment they were engaged in their warlike ceremonies. scarcity of buffalo in the vicinity of La Bouté's camp, which would render their supply of provisions scanty and precarious, had probably prevented them from assembling there; but of all this we knew nothing until some weeks after.

Shaw lashed his horse and gallopped forward. I, though much more vexed than he, was not strong enough to adopt this convenient vent to my feelings; so I followed at a quiet pace, but in no quiet

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mood. We rode up to a solitary old tree, which seemed the only place fit for encampment. Half its branches were dead, and the rest were so scantily furnished with leaves that they cast but a meagre and wretched shade; and the old twisted trunk alone furnished sufficient protection from the sun. We threw down our saddles in the strip of shadow that it cast, and sat down upon them. In silent indignation we sat smoking for an hour or more, shifting our saddles with the shifting shadow, for the sun was intolerably hot.

Avon, New York.

Go, Tourist, where the Genesee
Takes rise among the southern hills,
And, swollen by a thousand rills,
Flows on at last unclogged and free:
Rocks, vainly piled to bar his way,

Look dim through clouds of mounting spray,
And over ragged flinty stairs

The silver feet of his waves trip down,

And beetling cliffs above him frown;

But little the restless river cares!

Turrets tremble with pealing bells;
Joy loudly winds his bugle-horn,
And the heart of a nation proudly swells
When an heir to royalty is born;
But, greeted by a strain more wild,
Leaps from its fount the Mountain Child.
Old piny groves a mellow roar

From their mysterious depths outpour,
Commingled with the panther's scream,
Murmur of torrents, and the cry
Of the gray eagle circling high;
Meet welcome for a stream

That dashes down in youthful force
From the green hills, to run its course.

Was a little shrub, 't is plain to see;
But what the topers mention
Respecting wine, is true of blood:
It needs no bush if it's only good,'
Much less a tree of the oldest wood,
To warrant the world's attention.

VII.

Now Captain JONES was five-feet ten,
(The height of CHESTERFIELD'S gentlemen,)
With a manly breadth of shoulder;
And Captain JONES was straight and trim,
With nothing about him anywise slim,
And had for a leg as perfect a limb
As ever astonish'd beholder.

VIII.

With a calf of such a notable size,
"T would surely have taken the highest prize
At any fair in creation;

"T was just the leg for a prince to sport
Who wished to stand, at a Royal Court,
At the head of Foreign Leg-ation.

IX.

And Captain JONES had an elegant foot,
"T was just the thing for his patent boot,
And could so prettily shove it,

"T was a genuine pleasure to see it repeat
In the public walks the Milonian feat
Of bearing the calf above it.

Σ.

But the Captain's prominent personal charm
Was neither his foot, nor leg, nor arm,

Nor his very distingué air;

Nor was, although you 're thinking upon 't,
The front of his head, but his head and front'
Of beautiful coal-black hair.

ΧΙ.

So very bright was the gloss they had,
"I would have made a rival raving mad
To look at his raven curls;
Wherever he went, the Captain's hair
Was certain to fix the public stare,
And the constant cry was, I declare!'
And Did you ever!' and 'Just look there!'
Among the dazzled girls.

XII.

And though you may deem the assertion rash, There never was such another moustache

A gentleman's lip to cover;

"T was such a broad and shady shed

Over his teeth as they lay in their bed,

That in English or French, 't was properly said

To be a perfect chef-d'œuvre.