"working room;" in this, the Citizen brocades, we see no gleaming of jew King consented to his own abdication! els. Here, in this council chamber, still A little further, and we are in the stands the table around which, in Na- "HALL OF THE THRONE," the very inpoleon's time, gathered the statesmen ner temple of that symbol of greatness, and warriors whose deliberations con- once regarded with such mysterious vulsed Europe. The subtle Talleyrand, awe by the world of mankind. But the wily Fouche, the politic Camba- where now is "the Divinity that doth céres, Ney, Murat, Macdonald, Da- hedge a king,"-where the great Officers voust, Lannes, have all stood together of State, the Grand Councillors, the here! And here is the very bed used by Guards which once kept the multitude the aged Louis Phillippe and his "good from encroaching upon the precincts of Queen," as well as various other articles a place, sacred to more than Eleusinian of furniture, so plain and simple in ap- mysteries! Nay, where is the throne it. pearance, many of them, as to shame self! To overthrow-to displace a the luxury of many a private family. throne, in ancient times, deluged coun. Possessors of so much-masters of a tries in blood; and almost made the realm, how little of it all could they earth rock! Auguries were sought for really use and enjoy-how little even and found; and men trembled at their of this single palace could they really interpretation. Yet here we stand up. Occupy! To walk through here, royal- on the very spot whence one, the mightty never appeared so little-true hap- iest of the whole earth was uprooted, piness never less dependent upon ex- and a few broken panels tell the tale! ternal grandeur. Hath it indeed came to this! Where, when this sacrilege was begun-where were the mighty shades of Pepin and Charlemagne, of Philip le Hardi and Charles le Bel? Where Louis le Grande and his half hundred of royal progenitors, kings of France? Gone, all gone; and we look at the rent wall, and the vacant space, and almost see anew that mighty power evanishing, which had pressed for centuries with iron weight upon the hearts and minds of men. "A single hand may roll a rock down the mountain, which a thou sand hands could not roll up again;" and on this spot, a few bold fellows, in blouses, plucked up and carried away what an hundred thousand soldiers near by, glittering in all the panoply of bat tle had sworn to maintain inviolable. We continue onward. In this apart ment, Louis XVIII died; the grim king of the "silent land" coming upon him as upon other mortals, paladin and sentinel, unavailing to turn him back. But here is a memento of the past, better calculated, perhaps, to arouse strong emotion, than all we have yet seenthe gold dressing case of the beautiful and unfortunate Marie Antoinette! Of chased open-work, the costly material, rich as it is, bears no comparison to the superb aud elaborate workmanship. And what imagination is fruitful enough to picture the scenes it has witnessed -the girlish exultation, the queenly pride, the gorgeous array of courtly splendor, and later-the tears, the unfathomable woe of its royal possessor! Another jewel from the wrecked argosy which carried the fortunes of royalty in France, its very splendor all the more mocks the dark fate of its fair and unfortunate owner, showing us the height of luxury from which she was precipitated; and its isolated desolation now, appears "like a flag floating when the bark's engulphed!" We come now to the Gallery of Diana, the place of banquet and revel, richly painted and gilded; but no courtly wit is heard here now, no rustle of Leaving the Tuilleries, by the front, or Western entrance, the view of the Gardens, of the Place de la Concorde, and the Champs Elysees as far as the, great Arch of Triumph, is the grandest conceivable, embracing in it not only the noble front of edifices on the Rue Rivoli, but also the various public buildings on the southern banks of the Seine, and likewise fountains, statuary, the famous Obelisk of Luxor, and other works in the highest degree ornamental and tasteful. We follow out the noble vista. We find the Gardens, like the Boulevards, whence we started, thronged by the gay population, embracing all grades and characters. Soldiers and civilians, fashionable ladies with poodles, and children with their nurses, gray moustache and smart imperial move along the alleys, or lounge on the benches, a varying scene of busy life, observable no where in so ceaseless a variety as in the capital of France. Through this motley array, a few minutes walk brings us to the Place de la Concorde, the old Place de la Revolution, the scene of so much bloodshed in the days of Robespierre. The entrance from the Garden is very fine. On either side, surmounting pedestals, are groups of statuary, on each, is the figure of a wild horse held by a Herculean attendant; and bordering the Place are other groups, allegorical representations of important cities in France. The area is in the form of an octagon-is bordered by deep fosses, and the centre is occupied by the famous Obelisk of Luxor, on the North and South sides of which are two magnificent fountains, the figures forming them of bronze, and very elaborate, in their execution. We are now upon a spot more remarkable, perhaps, for the thrilling interest attached to it, than any other in Paris! Here stood the guillotine, "in permanence;" the thirsty earth drinking the best blood of France on this accursed spot. The ancient obelisk stands on the very place occupied by the fatal instrument, and-as if it were conscious--sympathising with the noble column, it seems to us a terrible destiny for this splendid monument of antiquity, that it has travelled so far from its ancient home, to stand sentry over a scene so fraught with all that is horrible in the history of man. Set up in ancient Egypt more than fifteen hundred years before Christ, the sun that hath watched its duration never looked down upon scenes in its history, upon soil so rank with human wicked ness as that upon which it stands at last! And as if there were indeed spectral shadows-existences that haunt guilty spots, it seems a fearful thing, even now, to stand here beneath the faint light of the appearing stars, and hear the evening winds moan around its base, voiceful intonations, like the lingering prayers and supplications and weepings, of those so remorselessly murdered here. And if the scared peasant hurries through the green lane at night-fall, lest some one victim of another's wrong should haunt his footsteps, should we not, in the gathering twilight, hasten past this fearful aceldema, lest the gory forms of Danton, and Camille Desmoulins, and Robespierre, affright us with their guilty presence. No wonder it has been thought fit to place enormous fountains on either side of this oft crimsoned spot, as if the ceaseless play of the bright waters might wash away the dark stains, and we only marvel that the ancient obelisk, even with its stony form and heart, abides the curst locality-that it does not heave from its rocky base. And yet, apart from its terrible associations, a fairer scene than that surrounding this spot never gladdened the heart of a lover of the beautiful. The magnificent centre of all that is grand in a great city, palace, and garden, and green avenue, on all sides,-how could man so desecrate it with his crimes, how could he bring the young, the innocent, the beautiful, the great of intellect, as well as the gray haired and revered, to die here, unshrived, unpitied, in the face of the bright heavens and the fair earth, no prayer availingbeauty, and goodness, and all, whelmed in destruction through the wild force of his passions? Once more we take our way, this time by lamplight, along the Boulevards, to the point from which we started; the thronging thousands as gay as if no dark past had ever clouded the scenes around, as if, too, they were assured against the recurrence of future woes; but what a world of memories have we gathered since in the bright morning sun we struck out of their busy whirl along the Rue Montmartre! THE LANTERN AT ST. CLOUD. | Paris, it, too, is teeming with historical SEE ENGRAVING. associations, with stories of events which have decided for the time the destinies of France. Henry III, was assassinated here; and here Napoleon struck that blow which placed the gov ernment in his hands-which gave him imperial power. We look over the glorious landscape and we in truth feel that we are in "sunny France"-we cast our eyes towards the towers, and domes, and temples, and fortifications of the splendid metropolis, shining in the broad sunlight, and feel that it is no wonder that its imperial master proudly dictated decrees to assembled Europe, for it does truly seem that its ruler might rule the world. Perhaps the most magnificent view in the vicinity of Paris is from the "Lantern of Diogenes," erected by Na poleon at St. Cloud, and copied from the monument of Lysicrates at Athens. If the Boulevards exhibit to us the most attractive picture of Paris in its living, active existence, no where is the panorama so effective, its lights and shades softened by distance made so beautiful, as from the spot represented in the engraving, and some two leagues from the city. The meandering of the Seine, with its picturesque bridges, the green vales, the bright vineyards and the pretty villas are all set forth from this point with a graceful beauty un- La Belle France is indeed spread out surpassed; whilst upon gala-days when before us-we look upon it as a familiar the Park is thronged with a well dress-picture, so often have we dreamed of ed multitude, the beholder is delighted it, and in its beauty and its richness, in with the sight of so much gaiety and hap: the sheen of its palaces and the emerald piness, and he must indeed be a mis- of its vineyards, we half forget its misanthrope, if he cannot in the highest de- fortunes, its blood, its crimes. Yet the greeenjoy the scene. nameless horrors of the "Reign of Terror" have in times past darkened the face even of this sweet picture, and men have again and again enshrouded it in the dusky canopy of battle. Let us endeavor to forget all this to-day as we look upon the lovely scene, let us hope that so rich a heritage may no more be deformed by the curse of man's fallen nature. To look abroad upon the noble Park, so rich in natural beauty, even had it not been touched by the hand of art, we do not wonder at the fact that it has been a favorite residence with the monarchs of France. Its noble groves of limes, and elms, and chesnuts, its fountains, and cascades, and statues, form a combination more pleasing even than Versailles, because less formal, in many respects; whilst the mind in these lovely recesses does not feel oppressed with the grandeur which appertains to the courtly pile built by Louis XIV. - Always a favorite residence with the great Emperor, who with all his ambition considered Versailles too magnificent for him, we can easily imagine that he might here find a fitting retreat -a spot where imperial splendor might temporarily doff its robes to put on the gray surtout and plumeless chapeau, whilst at the same time, nothing ap. pears wanting to mark it as worthy of being considered one of the noblest palatial residences on the whole continent of Europe. And like every other spot around once And as we retrace our course more to the city, as the ear catches anew the murmur of its crowded streets, the roll of its equipages, the music of its trumpets and drums, and the hum of its gay saloons, even the quiet heart acknowledges the exciting influences of such an atmosphere, and we feel, almost in spite of ourselves, that strife and revolution, and their accompaniments, are but the bubblings over of the mighty cauldron of seething and struggling life which forms the world of Paris-that like Vesuvius or Etna, when its crater heaves, the earth may well shake-the bright region around put on desolation and ashes. LIFE ON THE PRAIRIES, AN ARKANSAS SCENE. Mounted upon my noble iron gray, out I start upon the white prairie as day is breaking, the snow-flakes flying almost horizontally through the air, and men and dogs with merry shouts and yells plunging through the drifts, the very horses appearing to anticipate the sport, as with ears erect they snuff the fierce nor-wester which howls over the wintry plain.. We skirt the deep ravine, then with headlong speed dash off upon the level, marking our course by the solitary dead tree which through the storm occasionally shows itself, a lone watcher over the wild waste around. "This day a wolf must die,' is the burden of the chant which rings in my ear with each intonation of the wind, as with eager glance we peer into each branching gully, and adown each ridge which diverges from the elevated land. Mile after mile is passed, but no wolf is seen, as yet. Contrary to prophecy, too, the sky has not cleared, but louder roars the storm, until even my diminutive friend Antoine, the Canadian, is fain to cover his fiery little nose from the cutting blast, bending his head to his pony's rough mane as if he would nestle it therein from the driving storm. We call a halt, and a council of war is held! The dogs whine as they look up into our blue faces, searching there for some signs of hope, and ask ing apparently, why we, the wiser party, have led them such a chase upon so wild a day! Forward, is the word, however; and as if to make up for the time lost in consultation, away we dash with a desperate determination to be merry, in ludicrous contrast to our grim and frozen looks, and as we go I strive to hum with blue lips: A life in the woods for me! There goes Jake and his mule heels over head, a complete summersetinto a treacherous gully of snow; but the two scramble out again unhurt, the mule merely shaking his long ears as if the incident was a matter of course; the rider also taking the mishap as if used to such. Another halt! Something like a tussock of grass, or a stump-where stumps are not common-is sticking out of the snow yonder at the head of the ravine on the left. Whoop! it moves! There flies the rascal for whom we have so long been on the hunt, an enormous gray wolf, the dogs after him, cold and fatigue at once forgotten, and we at various distances bringing up the line of the chase. How he does get along to be sure, notwithstanding the weight of snow distributed in his long hair, and upon which we had calculated as a drag upon his movements in choosing for the hunt a snowy day. Now he disappears for a moment, and anon shows himself upon the rising ground beyond, scudding away like a spanish fellucca before the breeze, his nose in the air, and his long tail whisking about as he flies desperately onward. The chase deepens in interest, as the storm has now ceased. We sweep past the lone tree, scaring from its dead branches the great black eagle perched there, who shakes the wet snow from his plumage as he moves away in wheeling circles towards the brightening azure above. The debate is necessarily short. Antoine at a glance from me-is for marching onward; so is Peter. But Jake and his mule, and Harry and his dogs, have a decided leaning towards the farm house, now some four miles away, with the smoke flaring from its ample chimney as seen in the intervals Whoop! boys, we've got him! shouts of the storm. Even I, secretly con- Jake, as the wolf falters for an instant cede that lounging in its capacious at a heavy drift of snow ere he is able corner on such a day, and hunting with to force his way through it, and the some book Nimrod, in spirit, only, shout is responded to with uproarious might be a more pleasant occupation, yells by Antoine and the rest of us, as under all the circumstances. the whole party fly onward, the half mile fast decreasing between the wild make tracks for the farm-house, now fugitive and the panting horses and just discernible miles away on the edge dogs. of the prairie. Hi! Ranger, on dogs! is the cry from Harry, our "whipper in," as wolfy attempting to climb a bank of snow in his way, rolls backward, his red tongue EARLY HISTORY OF THE SOUTH-WEST. protruding from his well furnished SKETCH OF THE CAPTIVITY OF COLONEL JOSEPH jaws, and on the instant, the whole pack of four or five dogs close upon him. The snow flies about in clouds as they roll over and over in the fierce struggle, which however seems hardly to have commenced, when suddenly a complaining Ki! Yi! is heard from one or two of the younger curs as they limp away, proclaiming that the fierce denizen of the prairie has made his quality felt. Panting now, he stands at bay, having taught his fellow canines discretion, his hair all turned the wrong way, his red eyes flashing fire, and his bloody jaws snapping like a steel-trap in spasms, as he turns right and left to give battle to the yelping pack around. "By gar!" He brave feller! bawls little Antoine with momentary admiration and respect, as he looks upon the wild savage; a sentiment which chimes in so well with my own feelings, that for the instant I almost repent me of having hunted him down so mercilessly. But not content with merely holding his foes at bay, he now charges furiously upon the dogs, the gore and foam dripping from his distended jaws as he scatters the whole pack in all directions, we meanwhile from our saddles enjoying their shameful discomfiture, as the cowardly pack turn tail upon the grim foe they were so ready to over whelm but a few moments before. Bravo! wolfy, really a gallant fellow! and if my single vote upon the hurried court martial could save your scalp, it should be given right willingly. Of no use! The blood of slain lambs is crying for vengeance, and a rifle shot through the head of the bold marauder, at once ends his life and my moralizing speculation, as with the monster's carcase dragged at the horse's heels, we BROWN, OF MAURY COUNTY, TENNESSEE, BY THE INDIANS. [FROM NOTES FURNISHED BY HIM TO THE EDITOR.] Before we enter upon the thrilling narrative which we propose to lay before the readers of the South Western Monthly, we would say a few words, in introduction of the venerable and esteemed citizen who has furnished the account. We saw him at his residence in Maury County, about fifty miles south of Nashville, only a few weeks since, and although now nearly eighty years of age, he is yet a hale, fine looking man; and notwithstanding the day was one of the most stormy of the season, he had ridden on horseback to Columbia, eleven miles, and returned apparently quite free from fatigue. With noble aquiline features, his eye is that of the eagle's, still; and one may well imagine, who now looks upon him, that in times when men's homes were to be defended from the foray's of the red-man, or the haunts of the latter were to be invaded, no better soldier could be found tracking the war path than the gallant old pioneer whose history we now propose to give to the readers of our magazine. And in saving from the advance of time one more sketch of the early his. tory of the South-West, we esteem our. selves, in this instance, peculiarly for tunate. Time has spared the venera ble narrator beyond the limit assigned to the lives of most men; and it is not right that those to whom the country is indebted for its first step in civilization and prosperity, should be suffered to go down to the grave unhonored by any fitting record of their glorious deeds, to moulder in oblivion. And in regard to this matter, the work of saving these interesting narratives must be done speedily. A portion of the history of the country,-day by day it is becom ing more difficult to place it upon re |