restored it again to his pocket, and rushed down below. In five or ten minutes he returned, languor enstamped on his face, and his gay spirit drooping in his eyes. "Oh !" he exclaimed, "what a fool I am! "How I regret ever coming on board this infernal boat. Europe! "what is it? A darned old country at best, and half rotten at that! "I don't want to see it or any of its triumphs of nature or art. What care I for any of them? I feel, just now, as if I could kick St. Paul's "with contempt, discharge a tobacco quid at all Paris, and fling a "brick at the Pope! Oh! what a fool, what an infernal fool was I, to "leave good, sound American soil, and—and- -." But here internal commotions compelled another rapid descent below, and a half an hour or more elapsed before he was enabled again to reach the deck.

But evening has advanced upon us, and suddenly we are enveloped in a dense cloud. Moisture, heavy as rain, descends upon our ship, and winter overcoats are soon dampened through. An order is heard from the forward deck, and an old Jack is seen to approach us, rig up something alongside of the steam-pipe, take hold of a rope, and fix his eyes forward. Thinking him a good subject to chat with about our route and rate of speed, we approached the spot where he stood. Suddenly, and just as he was addressed, he pulls the string in his hand, and, horror of horrors! what a fearful scream salutes us! It sounded like ten Hudson River Railroad whistles concentrated into one, and seemed loud enough to have entered the ears of onr friends in Detroit. "What in the mischief is that ?" cries J, who, by this time, had regained the deck, and was crawling toward us. "Fog whistle," says old Jack. "Is this a fog in which we are involved?" "Yes, zur,—we h'always'ave them till we get h'off the Banks." "Do you keep this horrid thing at work all the time it lasts ?" "H'all the time, zur!" And so it was, for, through the silent watches of the night, s-c-r-e-a-m, s-c-r-e-a-m, s-c-r-e-a-m, it sounded upon our ears, like the mourning spirit of the lost "Arctic," hovering over these foggy waters, and warning us against the sad fate that overwhelmed her unhappy crew-so melancholy, so beseeching did its strain at last become.

But, with old Jack of the whistle, we continued our chat." Are not the Cunarders stronger than the Collins ships? "Oh yes, zur,—

no ships could be stronger than h'ours, they 'ave so much iron and timber in em!" ', How many are now in the line?" "Only three now running, but seven in all-the rest are in the Crimea, making money fast, zur !”

"Jack," says I, "what is good to cure this deuced sea-sickness? It is tearing the very bowels out of me." "Nothing is good, zur," says

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Jack, with a grunting kind of laugh, "it is the motion h'of the boat, zur. Jist bowse around on your legs, zur, 'tis h'all you can do for it." "Do you think we are going to have rough weather, Jack?—I fancy I see the clouds through this fog." “Oh no, zur,—shan't 'ave any rough weather this month. You'll'ave a good ride of it, and by to-morrow night we'll land you in Halifax." "How much of a load and crew have you, this trip?" "About two huudred and fifty passengers and twenty-eight of a crew, zur." "Have you boats enough to float them all, in case of accident?" "We 'ave eight, zur,-plenty to carry 'em h'all, zur."

"Keep that whistle going, there!" shouts Capt. Lott, as he stepped back from the wheel-house, and addressed himself to Jack, who, with an air of apparent neglect of duty, grew suddenly silent. "Perhaps it annoys you, Jack, to have us talking with you while on duty ?" "'Tis not allowed, zur." "Good night, old Jack!" we cried-and left him, standing in the drenching fog, with nothing but his duck breeches and a linen blouse over him,-the alarmist of our crew, and the warning herald of our ponderous approach.

"neither

"Let's to bed," says W, another of our passengers, of you feel very bright-so let's descend!" "Agreed," cried all,and down we went, wending our way, down and down, to the bottom of the well appointed for our lodgings. On reaching the main deck, we observed an old chap with a big copper bucket and a spout to it, ministering grog to the crew. He had a little copper cup with a long handle to it, holding perhaps a gill, which he dipped to the full aud passed to the sailors' lips, as they presented themselves in regular succession and in profound silence. How pleasantly they swigged it down, wiping their lips with their tarry shirt-sleeves, and grunting out their satisfaction as the liquid seemed to hit the right spot. "What is that liquor?" we inquired of the Genius who presided over the bucket. "Rum, zur." "How often do you give it to the men?" "We grog them twice a day, zur." "How much each time?" He held up, in reply, the long-handled cup before mentioned, while the sailor who came next in the order of topers, followed it with jealous eyes, lest, perchance, we might rob him of his nightcap. Here, then, was one of England's old customs, still rigidly adhered to. How it brought back the novel-reading of our boyhood, when we fancied ourselves, through Maryatt's quill, as familiar with a vessel's deck and customs, as with the first page of our Greek or Latin grammars. While we remembered the evils of intemperance, especially among sailors, still, as we saw this liquor taking its oily course down these rough throats, we could not help wishing that the rum was less injurious, so very comforting did it seem to old Jack, on this our first foggy and now rainy night upon the sea.

TRAVELS IN THE SOUTH-WEST.

BY GILBERT HATHAWAY, ESQ., OF LAPORTE, IND.

CHAPTER V.

Never did a worthy sentinel at his post sound the notes of alarm more valiantly than I did. No reply came from the intruder. Silence reigned supreme-save the low moan of the wind 'mid the limbs of the trees, and the rustling of withered leaves. I listened a few seconds in silence, when a low and apparently suppressed breathing reached my ear. This confirmed my suspicions. I raised myself up still higher from my resting-place. Throwing out my hand. it came in contact with the coarse hair of his head, as he lay crouched by my side. A feeling of horror and alarm seized me. "Great God of mercy!" I cried, fearing his purpose might be murder as well as robbery. I sprang to my feet. Seizing the first thing my hand came in contact with, I stretched myself to full height, standing braced ready for the onset. I demanded why he was there and what be wanted. By the faint light which found its way through the crevices of the logs, I perceived the dark, black object of my dread rise up before me, extending his brawny arms, which, to me, seemed huge. Methought he was about to crush me in his terrible grasp! In an agony of excitement, I exclaimed, "Begone!" Suiting the action to the word, I sent the missile I held in my hand, with all the force I could command. As good fortune would have it, this took effect on his face, accomplishing the desired object,-for he immediately settled down to the floor, and quietly retreated under the house, through a large hole in the hearth. As he passed out, I heard the rattling of his chain, and then discovered that it was the pet bear that had caused my alarm!

In the course of the day, I had put in the pocket of my overcoat a handful of acorns, which, it would appear, he was in pursuit of. The missile I had hit him with, was a bottle of snuff, which the wife of the Doctor had left standing on a bag of corn-meal, from which she had taken the supplies for our supper cake.

Bruin retreated to his nest beneath the floor, and I to mine above, glad that the battle had terminated so favorably. But both of us

EFFECTS OF CHANGING ABODES.

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kept up a terrible sneezing for some time, as the contents of the broken bottle were floating, in fine particles, through the apartment.

With two such adventures, sleep was driven entirely from my eyelids; and when the morning light appeared, I deliberately took a survey of the battle-field, with as much complacency, I doubt not, as a commanding general would of an ensanguined field, which would bring him promotion in rank or a marshal's baton.

I left the Doctor's the next morning. My narrative will be continued in my next. I must now bring this to a close, for you must know, I write in a cabin where such a thing as a candle is not known. The only means of light I have, is from two pine-knots, held by two dirty negro boys, one on each side of me,-sitting near the mud fireplace, so that the smoke from the torches may be drawn up the chimney, with my portfolio on my knee. The knots having been consumed, the boys are tired and sleepy, having, as they suppose, earned their dime each. I must leave you, till I have opportunity of sending you another epistle.

SHERMAN, Texas.

Friend K.-Since writing you from Lowring's Ranch, I have had several days' travel, a portion of which was through a very beautiful country, and now, seated at a table, in a very different place from what I then was, with quite another sort of light before me (held in a metal stick, bright and clean,—and not as then, in the dirty hand of a living holder) I will endeavor to give you another chapter of the incidents of my journey.

I am spending this day at the house of Mr. R, who, like many persons you meet in new countries, has passed through the settlement of several new States. A Virginian by birth, he spent the early part of his life in Kentucky-his father having emigrated to that country at an early day. Two years of his life were passed at Pittsburghafter which he emigrated to Illinois, where he resided several years, during the settlement of that part of the state, in which he was located. From Illinois he went to Missouri, and was, for some years, on the confines of civilization in this new country-from which place he came here. Five years' experience has made him quite a Texan. At first, he cultivated a farm; but the female portion of his household finding it too lonesome to reside in the country, with neighbors no nearer than from five to ten miles, he sold his farm, and has come to town; and is now keeping public house, with the hope that his family may see company. But, finding his new business not very profitable, some of his family are endeavoring to have him return to the country

-being willing to forego the company for the sake of a few more dollars.

Thus it is the poor fellow has been changing his place of residence every few years; and, now that the frost of age has silvered o'er his scattered locks, he is about to settle again on a new place, where he will be deprived of all luuxries and most of the comforts of life, such as his age and tastes require-and which, doubtless, he would have possessed, had he remained in any one place long enough to have them gather around him.

He is a man of much reading and general information. The house is neat, and scrupulously clean-a very novel feature in this portion of the country. Take it all in all, it is a very comfortable place to stop a few days.

Next night we spent at the cabin of a cotton planter-having driven more than thirty miles, through a country equally barren with that above Washington. No settlements, scarcely, were there, to relieve the dull monotony of our weary ride. Here and there, a miserable cabin was visible amid the tall, half-decayed pine trees, with blackened stumps and half-consumed logs scattered around; but no real signs of thrift or comfort. The soil was light and sandy, and whenever an attempt had been made to cultivate it, the cotton stalks were thin and feeble. What few people we met, were lean and lank-passing with a shiffling gait, as if their strength of limb was altogether inadequate to the task of moving their feet.

The night was cold and frosty, much the coldest I had experienced. The house was small and open, and, notwithstanding a large fire was burning on the stone hearth, still, it was so much like being out of doors in the apartment, that it was cold and cheerless.

When I came up to the house, the sun had long since gone to his resting-place, and the shades of night fairly set in. Charles remained at the wagon, while I went to inquire if I could "stop all night with them." Receiving a favorable answer, I approached the fire, where I stood enjoying its genial rays, when I was asked to walk out to supper and a servant dispatched to the wagon, to inform the gentleman that supper was ready. Soon the boy returned, with the intelligence that "the gemmen was as black as he was, and no more of a gemmen;" at which announcement, the master inquired if I had a servant with me. Being informed on this point, we were led to a cold and cheerless room, through which the first "norther" was whistling its shrill and inharmonious notes.

I was early aroused, the next morning, by the sound of the strokes of the task-master's lash. Hastening out, in the direction from which