The silver Swan, that tunes her mournful breath,
To sing the dirge of her approaching death;

The tattling Oldwives, and the cackling Geese,
The fearful Gull, that shuns the murthering piece;
The strong winged Mallard, with the nimble Teal,
And ill-shaped Loon, who his harsh notes doth squeal;
There Widgins, Sheldrakes, and Humilitees,
Snipes, Dippers, sea-Larks, in whole millions flee.
BEASTS.

THE kingly Lion, and the strong armed Bear,
The large limbed Mooses, with the tripping Deer;
Quill-darting Porcupines, and Racoons be
Castel'd in the hollow of an aged tree;
The skipping Squirrel, Rabbit, purblind Hare,
Immured in the self-same castels are,

Lest red-eyed Ferret, wiley Foxes should

Them undermine, if rampired but with mould;
The grim-faced Ounce, and ravenous howling Wolf,
Whose meagre paunch, sucks like a swallowing gulf;
Black glistering Otters, and rich coated Bever,
The Civet, sented Musquash smelling ever.

FISHES.

THE king of waters, the sea shouldering Whale,
The snuffing Grampus, with the oily Seal;
The storm-presaging Porpus, Herring-Hog,
Line shearing Shark, the Catfish, and Sea-Dog;
The scale-fenced Sturgeon, wry-mouthed Halibut,
The flouncing Salmon, Codfish, Greedigut,

Cole, Haddock, Hake, the Thornback, and the Scate,
Whose slimy outside makes him seld' in date;
The stately Bass, old Neptune's fleeting post,
That tides it out and in, from sea to coast;
Consorting Herrings, and the boney shad,
Big-bellied Alewives, Mackerels richly clad
With rainbow colour, the Frostfish and the Smelt,
As good as ever lady Gustus felt;

The spotted Lamprons, Eels, the Lamperies,
That seek fresh water brooks with Argus eyes;
These watery villagers, with thousands more,
Do pass and repass near the verdant shore.

XX. CONNECTICUT. [Western Sun. Indiana.]

WHAT land is that so nicely bound,

By Massachusetts and the Sound,

Rhode Island and New-York around;

Where Yankees thick as hops are found;

And hasty-puddings do abound? Connecticut.

What land is that, when George the king
Did over the sea his fetters fling,
And think to link us in their ring,

Which gave the 66
cry, there's no such thing,"

Whose sons did Yankee Doodle sing?

What land is that, where folks are said
To be so scrupulously bred,

To be so steady habited;

Connecticut.

Where hearty girls and boys are fed,

With pumpkin pies and gingerbread?

Connecticut.

What land is that, where old time walks

In steady space o'er maple blocks;

Forsakes his glass for wooden clocks;

Where heads too high will meet with knocks;
And land were more, if fewer rocks?

Connecticut

What land is that, where onions grow;

Where maiden's necks are white as snow,
And cheeks like roses red, you know;
Where jonny-cakes are baked from dough,
That land where milk and honey flow?
What land is that, whence pedlars come
A thousand miles, or more, from home,
With tin, with bass-wood trenchers; some
With patent nutmegs and new rum;
To gather up the coppers!-hum!
What land is that, where parsons live;
Where men hear gospel and believe;
Where humble sinners seek reprieve;
Where women stay at home and weave,
Nor gad without their husband's leave?
What land is that, where I can trace,
My nineteenth cousin by his face ;
Where once I fished for little dace,

And never learned the deuce from ace;

Connecticut.

Connecticut.

Connecticut.

Where grand-mother this night says grace? Connecticut.

What land is that, when we behold,

And all its history unfold,

And all about the land is told,

We like most things, but some we scold?

Ah! gentle reader, that is old

Connecticut.

BOOK II.

FICTITIOUS, MORAL, AND SENTIMENTAL.

I. THE CAPTIVE BOY.

[Emporium. Trenton, N. J.]

"But who is he that yet a dearer land

Remembers over hills and far away?-CAMPBELL. ALL who are conversant with the early history of our country, will recollect that our frontier settlements were, many years ago, before the power of the aborigines was broken and subdued, frequently laid waste and desolate, by the incursions of the Indians, who, not content with pillaging and destroying whatever property lay in their way, marked their footsteps with blood, and made captives of all whom glutted vengeance, or caprice induced them to spare.

er.

It happened in one of these incursions, that a young man by the name of Bird, with his wife and child, an infant boy of about six months old, was made a prisonThe quantity of plunder in possession of the savages, making the assistance of the unfortunate father and mother important, their lives were spared, for the sole purpose of assisting in carrying it off; they were shown their burdens, and directed to follow. The mother, knowing the fate, which in these circumstances awaited her infant, should it be discovered, contrived to conceal it from her inhuman captors, and having wrapped it up in her burden, close to her breast, journeyed by the side of her husband, towards the wilderness,

sorrowing, no doubt, but invoking the protection of Him whose Almighty arm can succour the most unfortunate, and deliver in the greatest peril.

After travelling from sunrise until late at night through a long summer's day, the party arrived at an Indian village, and the captives being secured, the Indians threw themselves on the ground, and were soon asleep; but it may well be supposed that Bird and his wife, even after so much fatigue, felt little disposition to close their eyes. How they might escape, alone occupied their thoughts; they matured their plan and put it into execution; but to avoid recapture, required even more vigilance and resolution than it required in-. genuity and strength to free themselves from the cords that bound them.

They however set out, and, with their helpless babe, which, as by a miracle, they had still succeeded in preserving unnoticed, began at midnight to retrace their steps; but before day, fatigue, anxiety, and the want of nourisment so completely exhausted them both, that they found this dilemma placed before them-the child must be left in the wilderness, or they must remain and perish with it. The morning was already streaking the east with grey, and they knew that their flight must have been already discovered; they knew, too, the characters they had to deal with, and that to escape, there was not a moment's time to be lost. Distracted with opposing resolutions, a sense of duty to themselves, finally prevailed over the parent's fondness; the mother for the last time, pressed her innocent offspring to her breast, bedewed its unconsciously smiling cheek with tears, and sat it down on the green bank of a little tinkling rill, to perish, where, as she cast a last anguishing look, after she left it, she saw it scrambling after the flowers that grew around it.

The father and mother escaped to the settlements, and Mr. Bird speedily collected a large party of his neighbours and returned to the spot where the child had been left; but it was gone; and, in the lapse of years, blest with riches and a numerous progeny, the parents ceased to weep over their lost boy.

Fifteen summers had smiled upon the harvests, when, in a treaty with a distant tribe of Indians, an article of which bound them to deliver up any captives that might be in their posession, a boy was put into the charge of the commissioners on the part of the whites, with the declaration that he was a white, found in infancy, upon the very spot where young Bird had been left. He was sent to his parents, who immediately recognized him by a remarkable scar on his right hand, which he had received in his father's house.

The measure of the parents' joy was full, but the boy wandered through the rich possessions of his father, without a smile. His bow and blanket were his only joy. He despised alike, the dress, the habits, and the luxuries that were proffered him; and his mind constantly brooded over the forest scenes, and sports in which he had passed his boyhood. Vain were all the attempts to wean him from his native habits-and as vain the efforts to obliterate the recollection of his adopted home from his mind. While persuasion and indulgence were alone resorted to, he modestly resisted; but when force was tried, and he was compelled to change his blanket for the garments of civilized life, and his favourite bow for a book, he grew sullenly discontented; and, at last, was missing in his father's house, and seen, the same evening, arrayed in the Indian garb, crossing a distant mountain, and bending his course towards the setting sun.

It was upwards of twenty years after this event, that Mr. Bird and his wife, now advanced somewhat in years, removed to a new settlement, where Mr. Bird had purchased a tract of land, at a great distance from their former residence; and while a more commodious building was erecting, they inhabited a small hut adjacent to a thick wood. One day when the old lady was left alone, the men of the neighbourhood having gone to a distance of several miles to assist at a raising, she saw, from her door, several armed and painted Indians approaching her. Alarmed, but resolute, she seized a hatchet, and ascending a ladder into the loft of the dwelling, drew it up after her, and determined to defend