knave. Then I went to Arabia, and for a | not I sail with Long Tom Coffin, and recipthousand and one nights and days I moved rocate the sentiments of that honest seaman in a delicious atmosphere and saw glorious sights. Chiefly do I remember a sailor of the name of Sindbad, and a prattling barber who had ever so many brothers, one brother especially, who planned his fortune on a tray of glass, and smashed the trayful before his scheme even was complete. I remember my first introduction to some very interesting people, originally from Scotland; there was an abbot, and a knight of Ivanhoe, and two sisters-one of them was near being hanged, and the other saved her by an opportune appeal to the queen's mercy. There was another queen who went in wonderful state to visit an English nobleman, and this same English nobleman was married, and wanted to marry the queen. There was a Dominie Somebody, who said "Prodigious!" and a Highlander called Dougal, and a "bonnie Prince Charlie," a heartless Claverhouse, and a lot more. I knew them all, and rejoiced in their society. Why did not I go in for mathematics for languages-for science? How could I, with all these "pretty ones" about me? Well do I recollect making the acquaintance of one Timothy Oldmixon; he had been aredbreast at the "Fondling," he was 'prenticed to a doctor, and learned his "rudimums by pounding away at the pestle. I knew Tatty Coram some time after that; she had been a "fondling" also; I wonder whether she knew Timothy. I remember Master John Easy, who was taught his A, B, C, by Mr. Bonnycastle. (I wonder whether that Bonnycastle was any relation to that Bonnycastles of Clapham, where "Quite Alone" was educated.) Iremember Percival Keene, who served out the tyrant who munched up his sandwiches, by having them all made of mustard. I remember his complacent statement that he found an exquisite enjoyment in being birched. I recollect Poor Jack being belaboured with a frying-pan, and Snarleyyow, the dog fiend, coming to a timely end. Did not I know Leather Stocking, and wander with him in the far west, and see the broad prairies, and fraternize with Red-skins? Did that he could never see no good for dry land except to grow a few cabbages on ? | Did not I know Little Ball-o'-Fire, and a lot of people kindly introduced to me by G. P. R. James? Did not I enjoy the quaint drolleries of Handy Andy, when he iced the champagne by pouring the contents of the bottle into the ice-pail? Did not I listen with suppressed laughter as Charles O'Malley sang of the "Widow Malone ?" Yea, verily, that did I. I remember Capstick, who took care of Little Giles; and one Giles, who was a Roper; and Tittlebat Titmouse, who came into a great fortune, and dyed his hair green, instead of black, by mistake. Did not I know a daring burglar, a boy who cut his name on a beam at a carpenter's in Wych Street ?-A highwayman who rode for four hundred and fifty pages without stopping ?-An enthusiast who ran about London with a pan of burning coals on his head ?-A dwarf and three giants who played high jinks in the Tower of London? Thinking of the old forbidden fruit, I see more clearly than all the rest of the vision, a stout gentleman, with spectacles on his nose, one hand under his coat-tails, the other extended in the act of addressing an assembly; a poor, lean boy, the drudge of a common-let us hope, uncommon-school, patient, weak, and dying; a bumptious beadle, with cocked hat and cape, doing "porochal" duty by caning a small boy in an undertaker's shop; an old man and a child wandering together, and meeting with Punch's showmen, tumblers, and so forth, until the end comes, she is asleep, and I see "An old man wandering as in quest of somethingSomething he knows not what!" I see in this group an idiot boy, fantastically dressed with ribbons, and with a raven who draws corks. I see a gentle boy talking of the wild waves to his sister, and wondering what they say. I see a miser, and a ticketporter, and a carrier, and a gloomy chemist, and two girls dancing in an orchard: I know them all-number them as my friends. Friends: all these fiction people, the "airy nothings," have been good friends to me; they have made me glad and sorry, pleased and angry-have given me comfort, and instruction, and delight. What shall I say of all the "hatch-ups" I have ever read but that I love them all? Of course, there must be good, better, and best amongst them, perhaps the comparative degrees in the other scale as well; but when you ask me, Mr. Editor, which I like the best, I can give no answer-they are all so very precious to me. Books that I read now don't seem to have the old flavour. Some of the recent stories are more like sermons: I am glad to get away from them to explore the Mysteries of Udolpho, or to accept the hospitality of the Farmer of Inglewood Forest. Yours very truly, THE ODD BOY. ST. SWITHIN'S DAY, (JULY 15.) THE chroniclers of the Church of Rome tell us that St. Swithin was of noble parentage, passed his youth in innocent simplicity, in the study of grammar, philosophy, and the Holy Scriptures, and that when he was promoted to holy orders, he was an accomplished model of all virtues. His learning, piety, and prudence, induced Egbert, King of the West Saxons, to make him his priest, and to appoint him tutor to his son Ethelwolf. When Ethelwolf succeeded to the throne, he governed his kingdom in ecclesiastical matters by the prudent advice of his former tutor, whom he caused to be elected bishop of Winchester. William of Malmesbury says, "Though this good bishop was a rich treasure of all virtues, those in which he took most delight were humility and charity to the poor; and that in the discharge of his episcopal functions he omitted nothing belonging to the true pastor. He built divers churches, and repaired others; his mouth was always open to invite sinners to repentance, and to admonish those who stood to be aware of falling. He was most severe to himself, and abstemious in his mode of living. He delighted in spiritual exercises, and in conversation would bear no discourse that did not tend to edification." Of the man who thus adorned and blessed the Church in his generation she may be truly proud, and if gratitude would suffer his name to be omitted in her calendar, the interest of religion would retain it. The name of St. Swithin, therefore, still adorns it—a monument of virtue, piety, and wisdom. He died on the 2nd day of July, 864, his body being buried, by his own order, in the churchyard, in order that his grave might be trodden by passers by. Had the history of this virtuous and pious prelate here been closed, justice would have been done to his memory, and his name been retained in the remembrance of his countrymen with those feelings of respect to which he was so eminently entitled. But an overstrained anxiety to do honour to his memory has, by the imputation of incredible wonders to the virtue of his relics, cast a shade of ridicule upon him; and he is now known among us as a weather-gauge, which is still preserved for its antiquity and our amusement. Upon the removal of his body from the churchyard to the church, or, in the language of the monk of Malmesbury, “upon the translation of his relics," on the 15th of July, 964, such a number of miraculous | from him, and the animal awaking pursued her with his companions, but was incapable of hurting her whom the mercy of God and the holy bishop had undertaken to set free." cares of all kinds were wrought as was never in the memory of man known to have been in any other place." Doubtless he speaks the truth; for not only does the catalogue exceed the powers of memory, but even the stretch of imagination. The narrators of the traditions relative to St. Swithin disagree in their accounts of the miracles they impute to the virtue of his relics; though they vie with each other in a desire to magnify the importance and to increase the number of the miraculous performances fabulously imputed to him. We have, however, the following imperfect summary in the commentary on his life. "Upon the day of the translation of his relics, a boy, whose limbs had been contracted from his youth, was made whole. A woman who was imprisoned and bound in fetters was set free. A paralytic person was healed; a noble matron and three other women who were blind, were restored to sight, Twenty-five women afflicted with various diseases were perfectly restored in one day; six-and-thirty sick persons coming from different places were cured within three days; and one hundred and twentyfour within fourteen." The virtue ascribed to his relics was even claimed for his statue; and further, the following legend was put forth to show that the miraculous power of the saint was not confined to those places wherein his relics were deposited and his form exhibited. "A certain woman," says the veracious historian, "sleeping in a house in the city of Winchester, with her door open, a wolf took her out of bed and carried her into a wood, where with dreadful howling he called other wolves to him. The woman, weak from fasting and age, knew not what to do, but turned herself to her prayers, invoked divine assistance, and called loudly on St. Swithin. No sooner did the wolf hear this same name than he fell asleep; the woman immediately withdrew herself How the vulgar notion that St. Swithin exercised an influence over the weather originated, it is difficult to say; for the writers who professed to give his authentic history, make no mention of the circumstance. The legend, however, whatever be its origin, is as follows :— The clergy considering it to be disgraceful that the body of the saint whose miracles were as innumerable as the sand upon the sea-shore, or as the drops in the ocean, should lie in the open churchyard, resolved to remove it into the choir. This was to have been done, with a procession of great solemnity, upon the 15th of July. The saint, however, by no means approved of this officious interference, and in order to prevent such a violation of the orders given in his life-time, miraculously caused it to rain so heavily on that day, and for the following forty days, as to render the attempt impossible, and it was consequently abandoned as heretical and blasphemous. The circumstances attending this reputed miraculous interference of St. Swithin shows the degree of credit and authority to which tradition is entitled. Legend contradicts legend; and the popular influence of the more recent one swallows up without reserve a whole host of predecessors. To believe both is impossible; to believe either unwarrantable; and if the cause of truth did not compel us to reject a guide so fal lacious as tradition here appears, we must do so as the friends of virtue and religion. The history of a wise and exemplary prelate has been defaced, its salutary influence upon society destroyed; and a record which was designed to be an example of life and instruction in manners is converted into a worse than profitless superstition. LIFE ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER. CHAPTER XI. ON THE PRAIRIE. BY A BACKWOODSMAN. SOME time after our adventure with the bears, we hastened up the river for five days, during which time we crossed a number of small streams which fell into it. Then we reached the eastern spurs of the Medicine Mountains, in which the river rises, and pours over the rocks in the shape of a large torrent. Here we crossed it, and following the base of these hills in the plain, we reached on the second evening a small stream, which flows for at least a hundred miles due east through this broad plain, which the Indians called Lamarie, to the Black Mountains bordering the plain, and, as Owl told us, winds through the latter till it falls into the Northern Platte to the east of Fort Lamarie. These mountains, which in height and shape exactly resemble the range from which the Bighorn rises, are to the north of that snow peak We marched along the stream to the eastward to the Black Mountains, and then turned up an arm of it coming from the south until it was lost in the plain. We marched from here for a whole day without water, and were obliged to pass the night too without it or fire, as the desolate plain over which we rode showed us not a single tree. Towards evening the next day we reached a lake, which was about three miles in circumference, but its waters were slightly impregnated with salt: following its banks, however, we arrived on its western side at some clear streams of fresh water. Here we refreshed ourselves and camped, though it was early in the afternoon, and amused ourselves with shooting geese and swans. On the next evening we came to a similar lake, with fresh-water streams on its western side, so that we again had a splendid camp, and took advantage of the opportunity to bathe in the lake. During the next day our road again ran over a desolate, melancholy plain, but to wards evening we saw a low wood in the distance, and reached another arm of the river which runs through the Black Mountains to Fort Lamarie. Here we had every. thing we could desire, a protected camp in the wood, and a splendid trout stream, in which we refreshed ourselves and our horses. We shot several fat buffaloes, and a few black-tailed stags. The wood above us sufficed to put us in good spirits, for we were very tired of the monotonous, desolate plains over which we had been marching for a long time. Before sunset our horses neighed, and we heard them answered from outside the wood. All at once there was a thun. dering burst through the low bushes, and the leader of a troop of wild horses fell in terror immediately in front of our fire, and the animals behind him one over the other, after which they got up again in the utmost fear and confusion, and dashed out of the wood. The stallion was a splendid irongrey, very powerfully built and finely shaped, and we all regretted that we were unable to take him home. The next morning we left the river and went south, and for the whole day without finding water. The sun sank behind the hills, and nowhere was there a tree or a sign of water; the grass, too, was bad, but our cattle were very weary, and we also longed for rest. We made a poor fire of bois de vache and small bushes, large enough to cook our supper; then we put up our tents and secured our traps under the tarpaulin on a bed of stones, for the sky was overcast and led to expectation of rain. At nightfall it began to blow and rain, and went on the whole night till daybreak, when the clouds gathered together again, and hanging on the base of the mountains displayed the snow-peaks brilliantly illumined by the sun. We quickly started, and marched from this disagreeable spot, looking for pleasanter signs ahead. At length, towards noon, wood rose again from the barren sur face. We drove our animals into a quicker | stags lying dead, hardly ten yards apart. pace, and in a few hours were resting again I hastened up to them, and counted, on the on a river fringed by trees, upon glorious antlers of the largest, eight-and-thirty tines, grass, which our starving cattle eagerly de-and on the smaller one six-and-twenty; the voured. It was still very early, and we length of the two antlers was between five all felt inclined to go hunting, as the rain and six feet, and their weight between thirty had refreshed the country, and the verdure and forty pounds. The antlers of this stag of the forest and the meadow does the eye- only differ from those of our stags in sight good. A few preferred fishing in the their size and the greater number of tines: neighbouring stream; several went up the the great difference between them is in the river to hunt, while I went down it, accom- weight, as the giant stag is often double panied by Trusty only. I had gone about the size of ours. Both animals, it seemed, a couple of miles along the skirt of the had died nearly at the same moment, for wood when I saw something moving on the they lay side by side, with their heads prairie, behind some very low bushes. I stretched out, as they had been running. crept cautiously up to the last bush, and After looking at them for awhile in delight, before me stood, at the distance of about I broke them up, gave Trusty his share, cut 120 yards, a herd of some forty large and out a couple of grinders as a recollection, old giant stags. The beautiful animals nd then went back to camp, when my comrades were equally pleased at the result of my sport. The other hunters had also been fortunate, and had killed a fat buffalo; while the anglers had pulled a number of large fish out of the river. Owl went with Antonio and Königstein to my stags, in order to fetch their skins and meat, and I requested them to bring me the antlers of the largest one, as I wished, were it possible, to carry them home. Though we liked the place so much, we left it again next morning, abundantly supplied with the best game, and Jack trotted after us with the enormous antlers on the top of his packages. the pride of the animal world-stood in a long line before me, with their faces turned to me, and raised their powerful antlers like a forest of horns. It was a sight whose beauty only a sportsman can estimate. I lay for some minutes lost in contemplation, but when I raised my knee and rifle the whole herd turned and galloped past me. I had long had my eye on the largest stag, for its antlers rose far above the others with their broad tines. I aimed behind the shoulder and fired, heard the bullet distinctly go home, and saw, that though it was bleeding profusely, it kept up with the others. The next largest stag, being just behind this one, I fired the second barrel at it, heard the thud of the bullet again, and saw that it was mortally wounded; but it too remained in line, and I watched the stags till they disappeared a long way off in a hollow. I loaded, and on reaching the spot where the stags were hit, Trusty at once put his nose to the blood-trail and stopped, looking up at me. I made him a sign that it was all right, and when he had gone a little distance he went off slightly to the right, took up the trail of the second stag, and then again pointed with his nose to the ground, while looking at me inquiringly. I again urged him on, and he went first to one trail, then to the other, till I was able to look down into the valley, where I saw the two The country here became again intersected by low ranges of hills, which crossed the plain from east to west; their heights were long and barren, but the large valleys between them were ornamented with small prairies and woods, in the latter of which we frequently found springs. The variety was a relief to our eyes, and offered us many a fine prospect, with the mountains approaching each other. Isolated masses of rock again rose out of these valleys, and before us in the far south were visible loftier ranges, some of them branching off from the Medicine Mountains, others from the Black Mountains. The colouring of these landscapes in the west of the continent is much warmer and more hazy than in the Eastern States, or in the countries of Old |