Now, since the phenomena of motion in the animal body are dependent on the change of matter, the in- The section on this deeply interesting subject is crease of the change of matter in any part is followed closed by the following judicious remarks:-" It is by an increase of all motions. According to the con- only by a just application of its principles that any ducting power of the nerves, the available force is theory can produce really beneficial results. The very carried away by the nerves of involuntary motion same method of cure may restore health in one indialone, or by all the nerves together. vidual, which, if applied to another, may prove fatal Consequently, if, in consequence of a diseased trans-in its effects. Thus, in certain inflammatory diseases, formation of living tissues, a greater amount of force and in highly muscular subjects, the antiphlogistic be generated than is required for the production of treatment has a very high value; while in other cases the normal motions, it is seen in an acceleration of all blood-letting produces unfavourable results. The vior some of the involuntary motions, as well as in a vifying agency of the blood must ever continue to be higher temperature of the diseased part. This condi- the most important condition in the restoration of a tion is called ferer. disturbed equilibrium, which result is always dependent on the saving of time; and the blood must, therefore, be considered and constantly kept in view, as the ultimate and most powerful cause of a lasting vital resistance, as well in the diseased as in the unaffected parts of the body."

At the time of our poet's birth, a rage for Grecian The accelerated change of matter, and the elevated literature had spread throughout Italy. The contemperature in the diseased part, show that the resistance offered by the vital force to the action of oxygen querors had submitted to the schooling of the conis feebler than in the healthy state. But this resist-quered, and avowed themselves as far their inferiors ance only ceases entirely when death takes place. By in letters as they had proved themselves their supethe artificial diminution of resistance in another part, riors in arms. the resistance in the diseased organ is not, indeed, The Achaians who had come to directly strengthened; but the chemical action (the cause of the change of matter) is diminished in the diseased part, being directed to another part, where the physician has succeeded in producing a still more feeble resistance to the change of matter (to the action of oxygen)."

We are now prepared to pass to a rapid survey of the "Nature of Things." The poem opens with an invocation of Venus, the prolific principle of life and enjoyment, whose universal dominion is glowingly pourtrayed. The author next propounds his subject, and celebrates the triumph over superstition achieved by his master Epicurus. The mention of this foe to human happiness suggests the tragic story of Iphigenia, the virgin daughter of Agamemnon. We shall extract this beautiful episode entire. It may be remarked, that Lucretius has heightened the pathos of the incident, and brought it into far closer accordance with nature, by deviating from the track of his predecessor Euripides, who represents Iphigenia as a voluntary victim.

Around she looked; the pride of Grecian maids,
The lovely Iphigenia, round she looked-
Her lavish tresses, spurning still the bond
Of sacred fillet, flaunting o'er her cheeks-
And sought in vain protection. She survey'd
Near her, her sad, sad sire; the officious priests
Repentant half and hiding their keen steel,
And crowds of gazers weeping as they view'd.
Dumb with alarm, with supplicating knee
And lifted eye, she sought compassion still:
Fruitless and unavailing: vain her youth,
Her innocence and beauty; vain the boast
Of regal birth; and vain that first herself
Lisp'd the dear name of Father, eldest born.
Forced from her suppliant posture, straight she view'd
The altar full prepared: not there to blend
Connubial vows, and light the bridal torch;
But at the moment when mature in charms,
While Hymen called aloud, to fall e'en then,
A father's victim, and the price to pay
Of Grecian navies, favour'd thus with gales.
Such are the crimes that Superstition prompts.
(Book I. 88-102, Good's Version.)

The poet next proceeds to show that nothing can spring from or be reduced to nothing-a position

That not the sun's bright shafts, but reason, truth, illume. (Book II. 20-60.) The poet then goes on to prosecute the old subject of atoms, describing their motions, figures, and other properties; explains the occasions of light and colour; cludes, by an induction of imaginary proofs, that this discourses on the vastness of the universe; and conearth has reached the stage of senescence, inanition, and decay the idea of the world being in its dotage having been a favourite of poets and moralists in all

The poet then discourses at large on the doctrine of atoms, and the results of their infinitely-varied combinations. He attacks the opinions of several ancient philosophers regarding the first principles of things; contends that the universe and space are alike illimitable; and concludes with a brief yet sublime assertion of the self-interpreting power of nature, and the certainty of a rich reward to those who patiently feel the nature, seat, and destiny of the soul. At this their way to her august arcana. The modern reader will be amused with the following reasonings against section of his work, he stands committed to the advothe doctrine of gravitation and the possibility of anti-cacy of a creed no less unpoetical than false. The elaborate apologist of materialism is self-convicted of treason against the Muse. The dearest hopes of nature, when chilled and scared by the hard visage of scepticism, have ever been wont to find shelter in song. Like the fabled Hamadryad, whose existence was bound up in that of her connatal tree, poetry seems destined to live or perish with the faith of an hereafter.

glade or field, and repose on sunny bank or in greenwood covert, rejoicing in the beauty and beneficence of nature. Being dispersed through all creation, the classes into which they were divided, and the epithets by which they were distinguished, are exceedingly numerous. We hear most frequently of the Naiades, the fountain, lake, and river nymphs; Nereides and Oceanitides, sea and ocean nymphs; Oreades, mountain nymphs; Napa, Dryades, Hamadryades, grove and tree nymphs." The fauns and satyrs are the rural male divinities of Italian and Grecian mythology respectively. Chief of the former is the Latin Faunus, at the head of the latter Arcadian Pan. To him were

ascribed all wild unearthly sounds, all strange and sudden terrors; whence, it is worthy of being noted,

the English term panic.

With an attempt to account for the phenomena of
dreams, and other disquisitions which need not be
particularly referred to, the fourth book closes. The
fifth opens with a fresh panegyric on Epicurus, whom
our poet never tires in praising. That philosopher's
system of cosmogony is next explained at large; the
mutability of the visible universe is asserted; chaos,
the heavenly bodies, the succession of seasons, the
solar and lunar eclipses, the rise of animals and vege-
tables, afford ample scope for interesting discussion
and splendid description; and, last of all, we are pre-
sented with a delightful view of the progress of human
society and the origin of the various arts. We must
make room for the group of the seasons, which has
been compared by Dr Warton to the exquisite designs
of Guido and Carracci. Our own translation is used :-
Spring comes and Venus; harbinger of spring,
Comes Zephyr, trippingly, with balmy wing;
While Mother Flora by their footsteps strews
Flowers of delicious scents and thousand hues:
Parch'd Summer next, and dusty Ceres come;
The sultry blasts forsake their airy home:
Next, Autumn marches in her mellow pride,
While tipsy Bacchus staggers by her side:
Behind, new tribes of tempests sally forth,
The lurid Auster and the blustering North:
Then Winter follows with his hoary host-
Snow, sleet, and stormy hail, and chattering frost.
(Book V. 736-746.)
The last book treats on a vast variety of natural
phenomena, such as thunder, lightning, waterspouts,
hurricanes, earthquakes, and volcanoes. The poet then
passes to assign his reasons for the inundation of the
Nile and the poisonous stench of the Averni, attempts
to explain the mysteries of magnetism, adverts to
endemic and contagious diseases, and closes the work
by a magnificent description of the tremendous pesti-
lence, well known from the account of Thucydides,
which broke out in Athens during the first year of
the Peloponnesian war. With the concluding touches
of this terrific picture we now finish our selections :-
Nor small the misery from the city oft

That pour'd from distant hamlets; for in throngs
Full flock'd the sickening peasants for relief,
From every point diseased; and every space
And every building crowded; height'ning hence
The rage of death, the hillocks of the dead.
*

*

*

*

*
At length the temples of the gods themselves
Changed into charnels, and their sacred shrines
Throng'd with the dead; for superstition now,
The power of altars, half their sway had lost,
Whelm'd in the pressure of the present woe.
Nor longer now the costly rites prevailed
Of ancient burial, erst punctilious kept;
For all roved restless, with distracted mind,
From scene to scene; and, worn with grief and toil,
Gave to their friends the interment chance allowed.
And direst exigence impelled them oft,
Headlong, to deeds most impious; for the pyres
Funereal seized they, rear'd not by themselves,
And with loud dirge and wailing wild, o'er these
Placed their own dead; amid the unhallow'd blaze
With blood contending, rather than resign
The tomb thus gained, or quit the enkindling corse.
(Book VI., 1257-1261, 1270-1284, Good.)
The "Nature of Things" exhibits to us a great
poet grappling energetically with a stubborn and un-
tractable subject. Majestic in itself, his theme was
barely susceptible of the marvellous graces he has con-
trived to engraft on it. Lucretius had to sustain the
double character of philosopher and poet. He had to
do with more than the beautiful outsides of things.
Reason was ever hampering and hanging on the rear
of imagination. Fact was ever damping the fires of
fancy. He may be enjoying, in the simple love of
nature, the "angry bravery" and the rich fragrance
of the rose, but must explain anon, with dull botani-
cal accuracy, the texture of its stem, the painting of
its petals, and the effluence of its odours; he may
brood, with awful satisfaction, on the “disastrous twi-
light" which fancy associates with "perplexed mo-
narchs," and sinking states, and impendent battles,
but is suddenly recalled to his proper task-the cal-
culation of an eclipse; he may venture, in lofty mood,
into the world of spirits, and Tartarus may rise before
him, peopled with shapes of terror, but these he must
forthwith transmute into so many vapid allegories;
or the bow of beauty may span the firmament, and
there may be stealing on him the dream of "gems
and gold" flashing through its limber and transparent
fabric, but the darling illusion is dissipated for ever
by the rude revelations of optics. Such intrusions
into her own haunts the Muse loveth not, nor tole-
rates such tampering with her ideal sanctities.

She loves the rose, by rivers loves to dream,
Nor heeds why blooms the rose, why flows the stream;
She loves her colours, though she may not know
How sun-born Iris paints the show'ry bow.

* Notes on Ovid, Professor Ramsay, p. 368.

It is interesting to observe, in the "Nature of Things" the triumph of genius over this and other difficulties. Next to the barrenness inseparable from his subject, in the manner, we mean, in which he proposed to treat it, is to be ranked the poverty, for his purpose, of the Latin language. In getting over this obstruction, he has been successful to a surprising degree. Speech bends to his bidding; the tongue of Italy seems to become plastic and subtle as the Greek; his very harshness harmonises with the subject and the man; and his archaisms fill the ear far better than the smoother dialect of his successors. In his logical nexus-in the knitting of his propositions and the marshalling of his arguments-he often reminds us of Young; while the structure of his verse, though far more musical in its varied cadence, suggests to us occasionally the sonorous march of Akenside. But in the strength and grandeur of thought which pervade those passages, which probably drew forth from Ovid the epithet of the "sublime Lucretius," the author of the "Nature of Things" has no rival save Milton. At these seasons the thick clouds of the Epicurean philosophy are not only pervious to the radiations of his genius, but seem to fall back, as if in reverence, from around it, and impart to it a deeper and richer halo. In such moments of inspiration-to employ the words of a living scholar well qualified to pronounce such a verdict with confidence-" Notwithstanding the abstruse and technical discussions inseparable from his theme, he has lighted up his work with some of the grandest bursts of poetry to be found in any language."

"LIFE IN THE WEST."*

SUCH is the title of a volume through which we have
picked our way, not without a share of amusement.
The author is a queer independent sort of blade, some-
what confused in his ideas, but with eyes open to what
passes, and too sharp to be imposed upon in his wan-
derings among the American borderers. He professes
to have left home and betaken himself to the western
regions, both in Canada and the States, in search of
land on which to settle; but we do not hear much on
that subject, and the bulk of the volume consists of
droll sketches of adventure on board steamers, in
hotels and log huts, and among parcels of Indians
with whom he picks up an acquaintance in the woods
and prairies.

Mr Morleigh, as we suppose he is to be called, lands
at New York, and gets away westward by Troy and
Lake Champlain to the lakes, loitering a good deal at
different places on the journey. At Kingston, the
new legislative capital of Canada, he "fell in with a
lot of Irish and Scotch emigrants; they had just com-
pleted some bright deal-board houses. The men were
employed by the government, and the women were
washing their clothes and children. I asked several
of them if they had bought any land; they said they
had not, and betrayed most lamentable ignorance, not
one of them knowing the name of the vast lake be-
fore them. But this did not surprise me much, as
we have a wealthy Yorkshireman and his wife at our
hotel, as ignorant of the country as the babes in the
wood. They bore us to death with stupid and un-
meaning questions. They expect to find shingle
palaces in the woods, and sugar-trees, and apple-trees,
and peaches, and all sorts of fruit trees, and Indian
corn growing wild, and wild turkeys as easily caught
as tame ones; and I verily believe, if a Yankee told
them it rained striped pig' in the back settlements,
they would believe him." A good quiz this on the
ridiculous notions of many persons who emigrate.
At Toronto he finds everything to be now very dull.
"There is a listlessness about this great overgrown
town that displeases me. Even the plank footways
cannot give elasticity to the step. One feels weighed
down with the heavy air and drooping aspect of the
people who have crowded into the streets and lanes of
Toronto, and for what purpose I cannot divine, for
there is little or no trade to induce such a swarm of
people, rich and poor, to build up streets of two-storey
houses here, instead of scattering themselves over the
vast tracts of wild lands around them. They live
huddled together, and now the seat of government is
removed, the good people of Toronto look blank
enough. It cannot be concealed,' said a tradesman,
'the city has been seriously injured by that blow; but
back again. Others pretend it is a great benefit that
we must and will have the seat of government brought
the seat of government has been taken away; for,
say they, the clerks and employés bought up all the
good town lots at exorbitant prices, but now things
will find their level. Level enough, truly, thought I;

Life in the West: Backwood Leaves and Prairie Flowers:

Extracts from the Note-Book of Morleigh in Search of an Estate.
One volume. London: Saunders and Otley. 1842.

for the whole town is built on a dead flat-flat as pancake."

Here the author point blank hits upon what must be considered the grand error in all emigration systems whatsoever, that is, the emigrants huddling up in towns, instead of boldly pushing into the country, and commencing the proper business for which they set out. Arriving afterwards at Goderich, he makes a similar remark. At this place "I felt inclined to exclaim against the building mania that seem to possess old country people. Instead of establishing themselves in the woods, they expend their capital upon houses and stones in the town, and, they are frequently worse off in those new colonial so far from improving their condition by emigration, towns than in the old established towns at home. For my own part, I cannot conceive what the people would be at, huddling together, bag and baggage, into every bit of cleared swamp, cut up, gridiron-wise, into streets and lanes, in which the poor wretches purchasing lots are invited to build houses, and establish another thriving new town. If people must and will live together like a swarm of bees in a hive, they ought to thrust themselves into the midst of Manchester, Birmingham, or London, where they may enjoy all the bustle of life, and be fooled to the top of their bent, without running the risk of crossing the Atlantic in a rotten vessel, and seeking society in the backwoods of North America."

Getting to Wisconsin, he proceeds gaily over the open prairie in a mail-waggon to Janesville, on Rock River. The free-and-easy way in which the letters are handled is droll enough. "Secure a seat in the waggon, paying four dollars for the same; an exorbitant price for a seat in such a lumbering old concern. Only two passengers, myself and a carpenter, who carries a tool-chest big enough for a meal-chest or bacon-bin." Arrive at "Mount Pleasant post-office. Here we stop to deliver the mail, and the post-master being out, his wife asks us to enter the house and eat some wild plums while the letter-bag is emptied on the floor; and the good woman, assisted by the carrier and the carpenter, proceeds to select and sort the letters, two children playing with the same.

Clara, miss! what are you doing? Take your
blackberry-stained fingers off the letters. Do; that's
a dear. Give me that letter with the red seal.'
"No I wont, ma.'

'Give it to me for this plum, dear.
"No I wont, miss; I'll keep it.'

There, lift up the infant; don't you see the state the floor, and the letters, and the newspapers are in ? exclaimed the carrier, as the post-mistress caught up her child; and the young ladies, eating plums, held up their hands and exclaimed, 'My !'"

Starting in renewal of the journey, "we continued our route through fine rolling prairie and oak openings, quite parkish, and the oak seems to be the only tree that escapes or resists the fires; however, I obbespoke the rough raising of prairie trees, exposed to served their stunted growth and gnarled appearance winds, fires, frosts, and snows. This day we passed the debris of two houses, one a log and the other a frame house, which had been burned by prairie fires; fate of the inmates unknown, though their carelessness is manifest to all; a simple trench or ditch round their dwellings would have stopped the fire, or turned aside the destroying element.""

He at length arrives at Madison, a city in expectation. "It was night before we wended our way through the magnificent streets, squares, and avenues favoured by the darkness of the night, amused themof the young capital of Wisconsin. My companions, selves by telling me the names of the various streets we passed through on our way to the hotel, while I strained my eyes into the oak openings, right and left, in quest of balconies, piazzas, stoops, and colonnades. Mr Morrison, the innkeeper, welcomed us to Madison, led the way into his bar, volunteered whisky and water, or a cobbler, to drive the night dew out of our throats. Moreover, the good man accommodated me with a single-bedded room, a luxury I had not enjoyed for some time. Sunday morning: rose refreshed, and marched out to look at the city, which had vanished like a dream, leaving that great unsightly fabric, the capitol, with its tin dome glittering in the sun, and some forty houses, of all sorts, shapes, and sizes, rained about here and there sparingly, at the corner of the projected streets and thoroughfares of this embryo town. Entered the capitol, which I found full of chips, shavings, and mortar: from the door and raised platform, en revanche, we have a splendid view of Third and Fourth lakes-for as yet the lakes have been only numbered, it would seem-and there is a chain of beautiful little lakes about Madison. There is nosettled country at home." beauty of wood and water frequently seen in the old thing grand about the scenery, but all that quiet

At Madison he is fixed for five days for lack of any conveyance from it. "The only quadrupeds and beasts of burden to be seen in the streets being hogs and alligator breed, infest the doors; the oxen, worn down oxen. The hogs of the true snake-eating, half-rat, halfwith toil, jingle their bells as they browse about the highways and byways." A teamster arrives to bait his weary span, and embracing the favourable oppor

tunity, he is once more on the road, sometimes riding, silence being observed, he stood up before the red em-night-caps, and some half-dozen old Indians in blanand at others sallying on foot after game. The next bers of the fire, dropped his blanket from his shoulders kets; he carried his cudgel like a pike; 'It looks well, halting place is Prairieville, where he finds the public-round his loins, and raising his right hand, spoke in a at least, said my uncle Toby.' Frequently halting his house crammed full of emigrants and residents, great deep, yet clear and somewhat sonorous voice, without men in front of the Council Lodge, he would inspect politicians and great wranglers. In this place, and, stopping, for at least half an hour, my friend, the bluff them with great severity, give them speeches upon indeed, all along the little Fox River, the fever and Frenchman, interpreting what he said to me from military discipline, read what he called the order of ague may be traced. Breakfast upon the game we time to time. The speech, from first to last, was in the day, which was the old declaration of independence; brought in ourselves, and pursue our journey through the declamatory style, and against whisky. He said then putting himself at their head, march round the a densely-wooded country. We have left the pure air he had seen many barrels lying in the reeds, waiting whisky barrels as if they were the trophies or spoils of of the prairie behind us, and now we progress very to be broached when the payment was made; but he war, followed by a mob of drunken half-breeds and slowly over the worst road I have ever travelled; in would set his face against any such underhand pro- whooping Indians. But at last the whisky was given fact, the trees have been just cut down and pulled ceedings. Fire-water (iscoday wabo) was the secret up, and I saw the poor major, flat as a flounder, his aside, and the stumps, rocks, and ruts, render it almost poison-the knife with which the Shemookmen (the occupation gone, his band dispersed, and in a hoarse impossible for the horses to tug the waggon along. American, or long knife) destroyed his young men. voice he exclaimed against the ingratitude of the This being Sunday, we have put up our guns and He would set his face against this fire-water; he traders, who had not rewarded him for his zeal even rifles, and walk before the waggon, perspiring at every would tell the agent (or money-carrier) that he would with a letter of thanks." pore, and panting for breath. From time to time we rather see all his money thrown into the river than pass groups of Norwegians, who have emigrated from lose a single warrior by drunkenness and brawling. He their own forests to locate themselves in the only then reverted to what occurred at the last payment difficult and impracticable belt of woods in Wiscon- a man, goaded to madness with fire-water, killed sin. At last we catch a glimpse of the blue waters two women, and fired at a man; the band to which of Lake Michigan, at the end of the long avenue of the women belonged rose to a man, and rushed upon dismal woods and infamous roads through which we the drunken madman; what they did you all witnessed, have been wending our way for hours from Prairie- and, I shame to say, I witnessed also,' said the chief. ville to Milwaukee. Even in that short route of fifteen They threw him on the great council fire, and he was miles, I suffered more from heat and fatigue than I burnt. The white men fled-the pale faces were have yet experienced in America; for what with the filled with fear; it is not right they should bring closeness of the air, absence of water, and-but here away such evil reports. I am resolved to preserve we are at last, crossing a good wooden bridge into order in the camp, and set my face against the whiskyquite a gay-looking town, white stoops, sign boards traders."" over stores, houses and villas perched on high banks and cheerful aspects, our waggon proudly drawn up at the door of the Milwaukee House."

Milwaukee is seven years old, and from a single farm-house and a few Indian wigwams, is now a regular town, the hotel, as usual, being the great centre of attraction. "Many of the store-keepers, clerks, and single-men lodgers, editors of newspapers, and clericos, board at our house; certes, the charge for bedroom, board, breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper is not very exorbitant, only six York shillings a-day, and every thing in very good style. Finding my host civil, though not at all communicative, I resolved to stay a few days at Milwaukee, to watch the progress of men and things in this singular place. It is no easy matter to pick information out of the denizens here; in other countries, a man may pick up some knowledge, even at a table-d'hôte; but here every man seems wide awake, all eyes and ears, and hands and mouth full of his own affairs; his meals are dispatched with impatient haste, bordering on voracity; after meals, he swingeth upon his chair, squirting tobacco-juice, hands thrust deeply in pockets, or whittling toothpicks; he swallows a gin-sling, and flings out of the door-he's gone like a streak of oiled lightning. Whosoever thinks he receives information from one of these slick gentlemen, I say, has been, to use their own singular expression, sucked,' left clean as an empty egg-shell, for the rule is to gammon a stranger' who persists in asking questions, telling him something awfully musical, and receiving as much of his plain history and adventures as he is ass enough to communicate." Our hero having heard that there was to be a meeting of Indians to receive an annual payment from an agent of the United States government, he determines to be present, though he must perform a most tedious and fatiguing journey across prairies, through marshes, up rivers, and so on. One day he loses his track, and climbing a tree, "I looked round for miles in every direction; not a living thing seemed within sight or hearing. 'Oh, solitude! where are thy charms? I muttered, as I resumed my march. Five miles further on, I halted again beside a clear running stream, prostrate by the side of which I enjoyed a delicious draught of the pure and unadulterated in a very primitive manner. But in the very act of swigging up the clear water, I was not a little startled to contemplate the grim visage of an Indian reflected in the flood; and starting up, lo and behold, two gaunt fierce-looking old Indians stood beside me. How the deuce they could have glided up so noiselessly I could not divine-for even the snapping of a dry stick could be heard half a mile off. But the salutation, Bo jou, bo jou!' showed they were friendly." Following these Indians, he is conducted to the house of Monsieur Grignon, a half-breed, and a successful trader in those parts. At this establishment he is well received, and meets with a large party going to "the payment," headed by Osh Cosh, chief of the Menomenees. Osh Cosh has not an imposing appearance; he is "a dirty mean-looking little Indian, with a large mouth, bandy legs, a quick eye, and meanlooking brow," little better than "a worshipful chimney-sweeper in an old dirty blanket. Observing that his coarse black hair hung down over his face, and his cheeks were covered with dirt, I inquired if any accident had befallen his excellency, or royal highness. The answer was brief: The chief is in decent mourning for one of his sons lately deceased.' I thought of the ancient custom of the Jews-how David humbled himself in sackcloth and ashes, &c." Osh Cosh, we are informed, was in a bad humour; he did not approve of the mode of taking the census of his tribe, and paying each individually; he wished the chiefs to receive the money, and divide it as they thought proper. A rude sort of entertaintment being served up in the hut," Osh Cosh declined sitting at the table. He was served with wild-duck stew, tea, and cakes, on a stool in the chimney-corner. Tea over, Osh Cosh signified his intention to make a speech, and profound

Next morning was pay-day. "The whole village was up and stirring; flags and streamers were hoisted in front of the traders' lodges. One man, to attract notice, had taken advantage of a dead tree in front of his lodge, and covered its branches with strips of red calico, blue ribbons, and gew-gaws; another hoisted a dozen striped shirts, another a red blanket, another a green blanket, and the traders strode backwards and forwards in front of the goods, bawling as loud as their lungs could bellow. While the Indians and their squaws surrounded the Council Lodge in groups, the squaws for once dressed in all their finery, and the young men vying with each other who could show most vermilion, yellow ochre, and indigo on their The speech of Osh Cosh met with a loud and ap-cheeks, and feathers-red, horse, and moose hair-on proving grunt; but we shall immediately see how his their heads, wampum and beads, bracelets and gorgets, tee-total principles were acted upon. Paddling in round their arms and necks. The sun shone out glocanoes up Wolf River, the party, including our voya-riously, and the coup d'ail was most enlivening; sevegeur, reaches the place of assemblage. The first ral Indians had brought up their horses, and rode thing that occurs is a meeting of all the traders in about at a break-neck rate over the stumps and logs. front of a large round wigwam, styled the Council The Council Lodge had been metamorphosed into a Lodge, and here "one and all signed a paper, or mu- pay-office; a door opened on each side, through which tual agreement, not to sell whisky to the Indians till the Indians were to pass, and receive their pay from the payment has been made, and then they may all the agents at a long counter, upon which the contents start fair. Osh Cosh and the Grignons are the prime of the money boxes, some twenty-seven thousand dolmovers of this good measure; and the better to carry lars, was piled up in goodly rows. Some of the traders, it into effect, all the whisky barrels are to be stored in especially the Grignons, beset the door of egress, and the bush at the other side of the river, and every drop as every Indian passed out, received the amount he seized on this, or the Indian side, is to be thrown into owed for goods received on time. Thus it frequently the river." happened that an Indian came away from the lodge as empty-handed as he entered it, the squaws alone hesitating, and frequently refusing to part with the dollars at once.

The accommodations in the Council Lodge were not first-rate, and the night was bitter cold. "The keen frosty air whistled freely through the chinks in the frail sides of our lodge; the dogs frequently broke through the mats at the door, and prowled about us. The Indians also kept up a perpetual howling, singing, and flute-blowing, round the embers of the fire in front of the wigwam. The agent, poor man, was grievously disturbed by this noise; and frequently during the night he started up from his bed, blankets, and sheets (which he had taken the wise precaution to bring along with the money boxes), and thrusting his head out of the lodge, he would roar at the Indians, Tell them to stop that noise! make less noise there Then groping his way back to bed again, he sometimes stumbled over the snoring clerk, who would awake in a great fright, and halloo, Thieves! mind the boxes! murder !' &c. It was next to impossible to sleep for an hour without being routed up by some vile noise either within or without, and in the morning I rose up far from being refreshed with my first night's bivouac on Indian ground.

The moment the last dollar was paid, down went the American flag, and the agent and his men rushed to their boat, plied their oars, and sheered off from the scene of action. Then the whisky sellers took the field. The young Indians clubbed together, and bought barrels of fire-water, knocked in their heads with their clubs and tomahawks, and helped their friends all round to bowls and cups of the spirit, above proof-real fire-water.

The result may be anticipated: the whole village became a scene of riot and debauchery. I retreated to my friendly trader's lodge, and found him expostulating with a few young Indians upon the folly and wickedness of getting drunk. Indeed, this good man's words and example seemed to have considerable effect on his hearers; he begged of them to quit the village, bag and baggage, now they were paid. Several followed his advice at once, and others began to remove the mats, &c., from their lodges; while the Indians Got some savoury stew for breakfast this morning, who lived in his vicinity lodged their money for safe down town, at the sign of the 'Striped Apron,' which keeping in his hands. Öne old trapper actually depofloated gracefully above six wigwams thrown into one, sited forty dollars with him, but would not go home by a spirited New England pedlar from the bay. He-no, he preferred plunging into the midst of the riot has got together sundry cooking utensils, and a barrel and revelry. Next morning I hardly knew him, as he of flour, some pork, and, strange to say, coffee. He sneaked up, all covered with dirt and blood, to ask for thinks he will clear his expenses, and perhaps a little his bundle. more, as he charges half-a-dollar a meal. The long wigwam is the rendezvous of all the traders and loafers in the place, though the Indians seldom pass the threshold."

Several days are spent in preliminary business, such as taking down names, settling qualifications, and other matters, while hunting and gambling go on among the more unconcerned spectators. Osh Cosh's excise laws are, till this stage of affairs, pretty rigorously enforced. " A negro barber from the bay has been detected selling whisky to the Indians; in his lodge he had several barrels of whisky concealed, and the appointed mixed force of traders and sage Indians, who have endeavoured most laudably to keep the peace, and prevent the sale of whisky, have seized upon this nigger's illicit store of the baneful fire-water, and the barrels having been rolled up in front of the Council Lodge, the agent and Osh Cosh are called on to decide as to its fate. Meantime the nigger goes about exciting the pestilent half-breeds and profligate Indians to rescue his whisky, using the most abusive language, saying he will get up a big fight for his whisky, wishing he had his bowie knife, and, in short, provoking some hardy pioneer to thrash him."

Several other seizures are made in gallant style; but the regulators of morals are not proof against the temptation of so much liquor. "In the midst of their seizures they could not help tasting, and from tasting went on to swigging, from swigging to tippling, and at last they cut a most ludicrous figure, marching about from lodge to lodge, and from tent to tent, in quest of whisky, inveighing against the fire-water, while they were hardly able to stand; indeed, the major who commanded seemed to think he commanded a regiment, instead of a dozen boosy traders in red and grey

That evening the rain came down in torrents; my host stood at the door of his lodge, and endeavoured to prevail on the Indians to pass on, and go home, but their drunken friends soon found them out. They came with kettles and cans full of whisky, which they insisted we should taste. My host obstinately refused, and the result was, that a good deal of whisky was spilt, the Indians forcing cans of it against our lips, while we evaded the torrent; this was the most disagreeable part of the entertainment.

At night we barricaded the door with empty barrels and logs, but the Indians still came begging for money to buy more whisky, and the rain entered the roof and sides of our lodge. My blanket was saturated; and at midnight I sat up, finding it impossible to close an eye amidst the wild howling, terrific shouts, screams, love and war songs, of the drunken savages without. As my host observed, it was worse than bedlam broke loose-it was like hell upon earth. Crowds of unhappy children crawled round our own lodge, crying bitterly; some of them contrived to creep into the empty barrels at our door, and that barrier was broken down before morning with a loud

crash.

The grey morning dawned heavily upon the Wolf River; as I went forth and looked around, not a third of the tents, lodges, and wigwams was standing; all was misery and wretchedness. The ground was covered with drunken savages, stripped of their finery, torn and tangled with filth and briars. The halfbreed whisky-sellers plied their vile vocations, determined to sell every drop of liquor they brought to the ground. All the respectable traders had huddled up their goods and retreated, or prepared to start away in canoes. I was not a little surprised to see the old

squaws gliding about with rifles, war-clubs, and tomahawks, under their arms; in fact, they are the only efficient police, carrying off their husbands' weapons before a carouse, to prevent bloodshed if possible." We have seen enough of this horrible picture, and here, with our author, close these sketches of doings in the "far west."

BIOGRAPHIC SKETCHES.

VINCENT DE PAUL.

THE name of Vincent de Paul is almost unknown to the general public of Britain. The case is very different, however, as respects France, the land of his nativity. There he holds the same rank which the Howards hold in our own country; and, like these individuals, he deserves to be known wherever benevolence is honoured and genius admired.

Vincent de Paul was born at Ranquines, a hamlet in the department of the Landes, on the 24th of April 1576. His parents were not wealthy, and in boyhood he was intrusted with the humble office of tending their sheep. At the age of twelve he was placed under the cordeliers of Acqs, in order to receive his education. He made rapid progress in his studies; and, at sixteen, had qualified himself for becoming tutor to a respectable family, in which he acquired sufficient means to recompense his parents for their past outlay, and complete his course of training for the priesthood. In 1596 he received the tonsure; and, for the next seven years, supported himself by teaching, preferring to continue the while his theological studies rather than accept a curacy, for which he conceived himself not fully qualified. A considerable sum was left to him in 1605, soon after which event, while sailing with a friend to Narbonne, he was taken prisoner by a Turkish corsair and carried to Tunis. There he was sold as a slave, and for two years endured the hardest fortunes, under successive masters. At length he fell into the hands of a Saveyard renegade, one of whose wives was of Greek extraction. This woman used to visit the fields where Vincent de Paul followed his laborious occupations, and one day she asked him to sing a hymn to that God who seemed to be so much in his thoughts. With tears flowing from his eyes, he sang to her the song of the expatriated children of Israel, commemorative of the time when they hung their harps upon the willows by Babel's streams. The Greek woman was herself far from home, and the mournful melody went to her heart. She had great influence with her husband; and the issue of her representations was, that he not only gave the French captives their liberty, but accompanied them in their flight to Avignon, where he was publicly restored to the bosom of the Christian

church.

Vincent de Paul had already done some good, having had provision made for many of them, in various quarters, were about to be abandoned to their former misery for want of funds and sympathy. Vincent, who allowed no obstacles or toils to stop him in the cause of humanity, made exertions for the assembling of the women of Paris, of higher and lower rank; and, when they were met, addressed them in the most moving terms in behalf of the poor innocents, whom their unhappy or unnatural parents left to the mercy of chance and the pity of strangers. "These unfortunate and guiltless children," he cried, "will live if you bestow on them your charitable cares; death is their inevitable portion if you abandon them." His language so moved his auditory, that an instant subscription of forty thousand livres took place; and, ere long, an annual income of the same amount was insured for this benevolent end. The king granted a building for the reception of the foundlings, and their comfortable maintenance was placed beyond the effects of chance or change. In this instance, the effect of De Paul's efforts may be of a doubtful nature; but the excellence of his motives cannot be disputed.

The year 1622 was remarkable for one of the noblest acts which Christian charity ever prompted a human being to perform. Vincent de Paul had quitted his duties in Paris in order to satisfy himself, with his own eyes, of the condition and mode of management of the convicts in the galleys at Marseilles. To prevent prepared exhibitions, he went without warning, and unknown. In passing from rank to rank of the convicts, he came to one poor young man, who appeared far more desolate and despairing than the others. Vincent inquired into his case. He had been condemned to three years of the galleys for smuggling, and the cause of his deep sorrow was the miserable condition to which his wife and children must have been reduced by his absence. Touched to the soul by the tears of the convict, Vincent took a resolution Besides all these acts of benevolence, Vincent which few men could have taken. In alleviating the de Paul obtained numerous benefactions for existthem the necessity that existed for bowing to the their condition. His personal influence with courts sufferings of the condemned, he ever impressed upon ing charities in France, and otherwise improved laws; and he would not, even in this case, teach and nobles became latterly very great; but his deeds an opposite lesson by applying for a reprieve, but of charity were effected chiefly by personal exertions, gave the laws a victim in his own person, and sus- in which neither danger nor ridicule could make him tained their dignity. With consent of the superin- pause. His manner was gentle and attractive, and tendant, the young man was freed, and Vincent took his eloquence of that kind that alike touched the his place. For eight months he endured all the hard-heart and convinced the judgment. In early days, ships of the galleys, working daily with a chain around indeed, the repulses which he encountered had made his leg, which left a weakness never effaced during him harsh and rough in his address; but he detected his life. Nor was this done in ostentation. So dif- the fault, and, by a strong effort, permanently cast it ferent was the case, that, though the fact was proved off. Vincent de Paul died at Paris in September on his posthumous canonisation, the probation was 1660, at the age of eighty-five. He received the rendered difficult by his never having been known to honours of canonisation, the highest of his church, in talk of it during his life, even to his most intimate 1737, from Pope Clement XII.

friends.

women.

In 1623, Vincent de Paul established, at Maçon, two Fellowships of Charity, one for men and the other for give alms and relief daily to certain poor persons inThe principle of these institutions was, to scribed in the list after inquiry, to give a lodging to poor travelling persons for one night, and to send them on their way next morning with a small sum of money. Such were the institutions, resembling our Houses of Refuge, which Vincent de Paul was the means of originating and spreading throughout France. For these institutions alone his country owes him a deep culties which he had to overcome, the temper of the debt of gratitude. To understand fully the diffiage in which he lived must be borne in mind. "When I established the charity at Maçon," says he, "every one mocked me. I was pointed at with the finger on the streets; no person believed that I could ever attain my end; and yet, when the thing was successfully done, many wept for joy, and all combined to pay me so much honour that I was constrained to leave the town in secrecy to avoid their applauses."

Continuing closely occupied with the formation of charities and missions, Vincent de Paul, in 1625, carried out the latter object by the establishment of a great religious community in the college of the Bons Enfants at Paris, for the purpose of instructing rural districts, and training young men to the ministry. The great object of the founder was to take away from the church the scandal resting on the ignorance and license of the clergy. This institution, called the Congregation of the Mission, became a noble one, and its influence was felt not only over France, and in all parts of the world where they had formed settlements, but over all Catholic countries. Its great utility was acknowledged by the popes, and by Louis XIV., who assigned to it a large income.

Soon after his return on this occasion, Vincent de Paul accompanied the vice-legate to Rome, and gained so much on the esteem of the Pope, and other high ecclesiastical dignitaries, that he was sent by them on a mission to Henry IV. in the year 1609. His subsequent nomination to the office of almoner to the French queen, Marguerite of Valois, exposed him to such temptations that he soon resigned the office, and sought repose of conscience in retirement. After holding a rural curacy for some time, Vincent was appointed tutor to the three sons of the Count de Joigny, absentee-governor of the convict-galleys at Marseilles; but pressed again by a tender conscience, he left for a time that household, to undertake the spiritual charge of Chatillon-les-Dombes, in Bresse. This place, notorious for the vicious habits of its population, became, under the eye of its zealous pastor, the abode of happiness and virtue. The poor and infirm were already the peculiar charge of Vincent de Paul; and it was here that he established, for their benefit, his first Fellowship of Charity (Confrérie de Charité), an institution which became the model of numerous others subsequently formed in France. Vincent returned to the family of De Joigny in 1617, at the pressing intreaties of the countess, who had felt his loss deeply. He now entered earnestly on the formation of missions for the religious instruction of rural places where it was greatly required. But a much more striking task to which Vincent de Paul devoted himself, was one connected with the galley-convicts. He visited the prisons where they were for a considerable time confined before being sent on board the ships at Marseilles. He then saw, to use his own words, "unfortunate beings shut up in dark and deep dungeons, devoured by vermin, attenuated by want and misery, and entirely neglected both in body and soul." This state of things excited in him the profoundest emotions of pity and sorrow, and he resolved that it should exist no longer. Receiving leave from the Count de Joigny, he commenced by purchasing, in the street Saint Honoré, a building large enough During the regency of Anne of Austria, Vincent to receive all the convicts of Paris condemned to the was named president of the Council of Conscience, galleys. He then made an appeal to the charity of and, in that position, brought his influence to bear on his friends, in order to enable him to perfect that es- many new abuses. As one example, he procured the tablishment for the reception of the convicts. The renewal of the ancient ordinances against duels; but result was, that, by indefatigable personal exertions, the most famous of his actions was his permanently he restored comfort to these unhappy persons, and fixing the lot of foundlings in France. These unforconverted them from reckless and blaspheming ma-tunate victims of error and wretchedness, for whom |

The establishment of the order of the Daughters of Charity, so famous in France for their attention to the indigent and the sick, was the next great work of this indefatigable man, whose touching appeals moved even the most insensible to contribute to the ends of charity and benevolence. He also established the order at first a distinct one-of Female Visitants to the Hospitals for Disease. In the war of the Fronde, several thousand Germans, who had been induced to enter France, were left by their employers to perish, and would have perished, had not Vincent stirred up a general spirit of charity in their behalf, and got them sent back, clothed and fed, to their own country. The calamities of the same war were fearful in many French provinces. Famine and pestilence ravaged the ranks of the soldiery, and the fields were covered with unburied bodies. Vincent raised twelve millions of francs, which he, with his coadjutors, carried to the relief of the sufferers, giving them food, attire, and medicine, and saving numberless lives from too probable destruction. De Paul went on his knees before Cardinal Richelieu, to intreat that minister to assent to peace. His petition was not without its effect.

The whole career of this estimable character affords a strong proof of what may be done by the indomitable will and untiring energies of one man.

CONTINENTAL RAILWAYS.

[From the Times newspaper.]

THE progress of the railway system on the continent is a subject of growing importance with this country, and, indeed, with the whole of Europe; yet it is one on which, at present, little accurate information is possessed. A work which has just made its appearance in Paris comes very opportunely to supply this deficiency. It is entitled, péen," and is written by M. Bourgoing. We propose, on "Chemins de Fer de l'Allemagne et du Continent Eurothe score of its great utility, to set forth, in a very condensed form, the principal facts contained in this publi

cation.

The first system of railways examined is that of Aus tria, where the entire direction of these enterprises has of late been taken into the hands of the government, to which effect a decree of the emperor was published, providing that all railroads should be divided into roads of the state and private roads; the first to be exclusively carried on by the state, while the second is left to the management of private companies, the plan of whose works, however, is to be drawn up by the government. the hands of private companies will nevertheless remain Those more important branches which are at present in so, and the privileges already granted strictly maintained. All matters relating to railways are referred to the Presidency of the Convention, under whom a committee is appointed to decide on the technicalities and details of administration,

The principal Austrian line is that called the Northern, or Emperor's road. This road extends from Vienna to Warsaw, with branches to Brunn and Olmutz, where the part completed at present ends. The remainder is in progress of construction. The entire length of the line which was performed to and fro in one day. The comfrom Vienna to Olmutz is twenty-eight German miles, munication with this town, one already of great commer cial consideration, is far more important than that with Brunn, as it favours the commercial relations with Silesia, Poland, and Bohemia. The next line of importance is that from Prague to Dresden, but this is only in projec tion; and the capitalists of Vienna who were invited to take a part in the enterprise have refused to comply until that from Vienna to Prague be established. Meanwhile, a committee has been instituted to trace out the plan of operations, and they have determined that the only suitthe Elbe and the Moldau. There is no doubt but that a

able line would be one which should follow the course of

Prague, and thus a system of railroads will be formed joining the north and south of Germany, which, if ex

road will eventually be established between Vienna and

tended to Trieste, as it probably will be, will present a continued line from the Baltic to the Adriatic and Mediterranean. There exist other railways also, as that from Linz to Budweis, and from Prague to Pilsen, which are but ill constructed, and unfitted for steam-carriages; and one from Linz to Smunden, better constructed than the former, but still only capable of horse-conveyances. A central railway in Hungary, following the left bank of the Danube, has been authorised by the Diet, and in July 1840, all the shares, forming a capital of 8,000,000 florins, Hungary is that from Presburg to Tirnau, which was were taken. At present the only railroad existing in opened in September 1840.

the present sovereign, the arts of civilisation have, within The kingdom of Bavaria, where, under the auspices of the last thirty years, made great advances, has not been backward in appreciating the advantages of railway communication, although its railways at present exist only