Who still proclaims her welcome visit here;
When first we hail him in the circling flight,
He tells of smiling skies and seasons bright,
Of vernal buds, and all that shall appear
When summer crowns with flowery wreaths the year;
And, dressed in rich luxuriance, charms the sight.
He hastes to meet her when her first soft gale
Sighs with sweet breath amidst her leafless bowers,
When early violets open in the vale

And April peeps through rainbow, suns, and showers,
Ere song of nightingale with thrilling strains
Floats on the evening breeze o'er moonlight plains.

THE DETERMINED ROBBER AND THE SNAKE.

The following anecdote, which is extracted from a work intituled, "Tales of the NorthWest," displays such unheard-of temerity, hardihood, daring, courage, bravado, and contempt of death in an individual, call it by any of those terms the reader may think proper, that it scarcely appears credible; and we do not know in the whole course of our experience, and great variety of reading, ever to have met with any thing like it. We recollect that upon the ex-pugilistic champion, Tom Cribb, (and a man possessing more real, or true courage, is not to be found in the whole world) once being tossed by a bull, that in his rage and surprise at the moment, Tom wished "he was a Bull for the Bull's sake!" that he might have tossed the bull into the air in his turn; but let the determined resolution of the robber in his struggle with the serpent speak for itself:-"The boat having arrived at the portage of the Wisconsin, on his return to the Sioux country, it was necessary to dry a part of the cargo, which had been wet by a shower the night preceding. The canvass used to cover Macinac boats was spread upon the ground to dry. While Le Duc and his men were engaged in eating, an enormous rattlesnake crept out of the grass, and stretched himself in the sun upon the canvass; thinking, it is probable, that it was placed there for his reception. It is well known that this reptile is a generous enemy, never doing any injury unless molested, nor then, without giving warning. When Pinchon and his comrade returned, they perceived the individual in question.

Le Duc seized a stick to kill it, but Pinchon held his arm, while the serpent regarded them with the utmost indifference. "Joe Le Duc," said Pinchon, "we are called brave men. Should you like to try which is the

best entitled to the name of the two?"

"And how should that be tried! You do not wish to fight with me, I hope? I have no inclination of that kind myself; I would far rather drink with you."

"Nay, it can be tried without fighting. Dare you will you catch that snuke in your

bare hands ?"

"Despardieux! no! I will fight the Indians with you, as long and as often as you please, but I will not fight such an enemy as that."

"Well, then, it shall never be said that I

ANOTHER DISPOSAL OF A SNAKE,

In Demerara, and the adjacent parts of South America, Mr. Charles Waterman, a most enterprising traveller, relates the following adventure he had with a snake; and, although not displaying any thing like the hardihood of Pinchon, the robber, yet, nevertheless, it will be found extremely interesting:

"The sun (says he) had just passed the meridian in a cloudless sky; there was scarcely a bird to be seen, for the winged inhabitants of the forest, as though overcome by heat, had retired to the thickest shades; all would have been like midnight silence, were it not that the shrill voice of the pi-piyo every now and then resounded from a distant tree. 1 was sitting with a Horace in my hand, when a negro and his little dog came down the hill in haste, and I was soon informed that a snake had been discovered; but it was a young one, called the bush-master, a rare and poisonous snake. I instantly rose up, and, laying hold of the eight foot lance, which was close by me, Well, then, Daddy,' said I, We'll go and have a look at the snake.' I was barefoot, with an old hat, and check shirt, and trousers on, and pair of braces to keep them up. The negro had his cutlass, and we ascended the hill; another negro, armed with a cutlass, joined us, judging, from our pace, that there was something to do. The little dog came along with us, and, when we had got about half a mile in the forest, the negro stopped, and pointed to a fallen tree; all was still and silent: I told the negroes not to stir from the place where they were, and keep the little dog in, and that I would go in and reconnoitre. I advanced

up to the place slow and cautious. The snake was well concealed, but at last I made him out; it was a coulacanara, not poisonous, but large enough to have crushed any of us to death. On measuring him afterwards, he was something more than fourteen feet long. This species of snake is very rare, and much thicker, in proportion to his length, than any other snake in the forest. A coulacanara of fourteen feet in length is as thick as a common boa of twenty-four. After skinning this snake, I could easily get my head into his mouth, as the singular formation of the jaws admits of wonderful extension. A Dutch friend of mine, by name Brouwer, killed a boa, twenty-two feet long, with a pair of stag's horns in his mouth; he had swallowed the stag, but could not get the horns down; so he had to wait in patience with that uncomfortable mouthful till his stomach digested the body, and then the horns would drop out. In this plight the Dutchman found him, as he was going in his canoe up the river, and sent a ball through his head. On ascertaining the size of the serpent which the negro had just found, I retired slowly the way I came, and promised four dollars to the negro who had shown it to me, and one to the other who had joined us. Aware that the day was on the decline, and that the approach of night would be detrimental to the dissection, a thought struck me that I could take him alive. I imagined if I could strike him with the lance behind the head, and pin him to the ground, I might succeed in capturing him. When I told this to the negroes, they begged and intreated me to let them go for a gun, and bring more force, as they were sure the snake would kill some of us; but I had been in search of a large serpent for years, and now having come up with one, it did not become me to turn soft. So, taking a cutlass from one of the negroes, and then ranging both the sable slaves behind me, I told them to follow me, and that I would cut them down if they offered to fly. I smiled as I said this; but they shook their heads in silence, and seemed to have but a bad heart of it. When we got up to the place, the serpent had not stirred; but I could see nothing of his head, and I judged by the folds of his body that it must be at the farthest side of his den. A species of woodbine had formed a complete mantle over the branches of the fallen tree, almost impervious to the rain or the rays of the sun. Probably he had resorted to this sequestered place for a length of time, as it bore marks of an ancient settlement. I now took my knife, determining to cut away the woodbine, and break the twigs in the gentlest manner possible, till I could get a view of his head. One negro stood guard close behind me with the lance, and near him the other with a cutlass. The cutlass which I had taken from the first negro was on the ground close by me in case of need. After working in dead silence for a quarter of an hour, with one knee all the time

on the ground, I had cleared away enough to see his head. It appeared coming out between the first and second coil of his body, and was flat on the ground. This was the very position I wished it to be in. I rose in silence. and retreated very slowly, making a sign to the negroes to do the same. We were at this time about twenty yards from the snake's den. I now ranged the negroes behind me, and told him who stood next to me to lay hold of the lance the moment I struck the snake, and that the other must attend my movements. It now only remained to take their cutlasses from them, for I was sure if I did not disarm them, they would be tempted to strike the snake in time of danger, and thus for ever spoil his skin. On taking their cutlasses from them, if I might judge from their physiognomy, they seemed to consider it as a most intolerable act of tyranny in me. Probably nothing kept them from bolting, but the consolation that I was to be between them and the snake. Indeed, my own heart, in spite of all I could do, beat quicker than usual; and I felt those sensations which one has on board a merchant vessel in war time, when the captain orders all hands on deck to prepare for action, while a strange vessel is coming down upon us under suspicious colours. We went slowly on in silence without moving our arms or heads, in order to prevent alarm as much as possible, lest the snake should glide off or attack us in self-defence. I carried the lance perpendicularly before me, with the point about a foot from the ground. The snake had not moved; and, on getting up to him I struck him with the lance on the near side, just behind the neck, and pinned him to the ground. That moment the negro next to me seized the lance, and held it firm in its place, while I dashed head foremost into the den to grapple with the snake, and to get hold of his tail before he could do any mischief. pinning him to the ground with the lance, he gave a tremendous loud hiss, and the little dog ran away, howling as he went. We had a sharp fray in the den, the rotten sticks flying on all sides, and each party struggling for superiority. I called out to the second negro to throw himself upon me, as I found I was not heavy enough. He did so, and the additional weight was of great service. I had now got firm hold of his tail; and after a violent struggle or two, he gave in, finding himself overpowered. This was the moment to secure him. So, while the first negro continued to hold the lance firm to the ground, and the other was helping me, I contrived to unloose my braces, and with them tied up the snake's mouth. The snake, now finding himself in an unpleasant situation, tried to better himself, and set resolutely to work, but we overpowered him. We contrived to make him twist himself round the shaft of the ance and then prepared to convey him out of the forest. I stood at his head, and held it firm under my arm, one negro supporting the belly,

On

and the other the tail. In this order we began to move slowly towards home, and reached it, after resting ten times, for the snake was too heavy for us to support him without stopping to recruit our strength. As we proceeded onwards with him, he fought hard for freedom, but it was all in vain. The day was now too far spent to think of dissecting him. Had I killed him, a partial putrefaction would have taken place before morning. I had brought with me into the forest a strong bag, large enough to contain any animal that I should want to dissect. I considered this the best mode of keeping alive wild animals when I was pressed for daylight; for the bag yielding in every direction to their efforts they would have nothing solid or fixed to work on, and thus would be prevented from making a hole through it. I say fixed, for after the mouth of the bag was closed, the bag itself was not fastened or tied to any thing, but moved about wherever the animal inside caused it to roll. After securing afresh the mouth of the coulacanara, so that he could not open it, he was forced into this bag, and left to his fate till morning. I cannot say he allowed me to have a quiet night. My hammock was in the loft just above him, and the floor between us half gone to decay, so that in parts of it no boards intervened between his lodging and mine. He was very restless and fretful; and had Medusa been my wife, there could not have been more continued and disagreeable hissing in the bed-chamber that night. At daybreak I sent to borrow ten of the negroes who were cutting wood at a distance; I could have done with half that number, but judged it most prudent to have a good force, in case he should try to escape from the house when we opened the bag. However, nothing serious occurred. We untied the bag, kept him down by main force, and then I cut his throat. He bled like an ox. By six o'clock the same evening, he was completely dissected."

THE HUMMING BIRD.

The above bird (according to the Edinburgh Cabinet Library) is a pretty little feathered creature, no bigger than an overgrown wasp; with a black bill no bigger than a small needle, and with legs and feet in proportion to its body. This creature does not wave its wings like other birds when it flies, but keeps them in a continued quick motion, like bees or other insects; and like them makes a continued humming noise as it flies. It is very quick in motion, and haunts about flowers and fruit like a bee gathering honey; making many addresses to its delightful objects, by visiting them on all sides, and yet still keeps in motion, sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other, as often rebounding a foot or

two back on a sudden, and as quickly returns again, keeping thus about ore flower five or six minutes, or more.

BEAVERS.

Such is he sagacity of the beavers (which we extract from Cox's Colombia) that a tribe of American Indians consider them as a fallen race of human beings, who, in consequence of their wickedness, vexed the Good Spirit, and were condemned by him to their present shape, but that in due time they will be restored to their humanity. They allege that the beavers have the power of speech, and that they have heard them talk with each other, and seen them sitting in council on an offending member. The lovers of natural history are already well acquainted with the surprising sagacity of these wonderful animals, with their dexterity in cutting down trees, their skill in constructing their houses, and their foresight in collecting and storing provisions sufficient to last them during the winter months; but few are aware, I should imagine, of a remarkable custom among them, which, more than any other, confirms the Indians in believing them a fallen race. Towards the latter end of autumn, a certain number, varying from twenty to thirty, assemble for the purpose of building their winter habitations. They immediately commence cutting down trees; and nothing can be more wonderful than the skili and patience which they manifest in this laborious undertaking. To see them anxiously looking up, watching the leaning of the tree when the trunk is nearly severed, and when its creaking announces its approaching fall, to observe them scampering off in all directions to avoid being crushed. When the tree is prostrate, they quickly strip off its branches; after which, with their dental chisels, they divide the trunk into several pieces of equal lengths, which they roll to the rivulet across which they intend to erect their house. Two or three old ones generally superintend the others, and it is no unusual sight to see them beating those who exhibit any symptoms of laziness; should, however, any fellow be incorrigible, and persist in refusing to work, he is driven unanimously by the whole tribe to seek shelter and provision elsewhere. These outlaws are, therefore, obliged to pass a miserable winter, half starved in a burrow on the banks of some stream, where they are easily trapped. The Indians call them "lazy beaver," "and their fur is not half so valuable as that of the other animals, whose persevering industry and prévoyance secure them provisions and a comfortable shelter during the severity of the winter.

THE BANK MARTIN.

The bill and claws of the above bird (says the author of the Architecture of Birds) are

commonly hard and sharp, and admirably adapted for digging. The bill is smail, but its shortness adds to its strength, as it suddenly tapers to a point like a sailor's marlinspike, or rather like the points of a pair of fine compasses when closed. The bankswallow perforates the sand bank with its bill shut, it clings with its sharp claws and pegs in its bill as a miner does his pickaxe, till it has loosened a considerable portion of the hard sand, and tumbled it down among the loose rubbish below. Some of these swallows' holes are nearly as circular as if they had been planned out with a pair of compasses, while some are more irregular in form: but this seems to depend more upon the sand crumbling away than any deficiency in the original workmanship. It always scrapes out with its feet the sand detached by the bill, but so careful is this performed that it never scratches up the unmined sand or disturbs the plain of the floor which rather slopes upwards, and of course the lodgment of rain is thereby prevented. Bewick says that the nest of the Sand-Martin is carelessly constructed of straw, dry grass, and feathers; the female lays five or six white eggs almost transparent; it is said to have only one brood in the year.

DESPERATE STRUGGLE BETWEEN A MAN AND A MASTIFF FOR LIFE.

A short time since, Mr. Somerwill, the proprietor of the Pettington Lime Kilns, North Devon, arose from a little cabin he has fitted up on the spot, to attend to the process of his kiln, and, having effected his purpose, he lay down again without undressing, having over his clothes a smock-frock. Soon after the door of his cabin, which he had neglected to fasten, was thrust open, which alarmed his little dog lying on the floor, and caused him to bark, when the intruder, which proved to be a very large mastiff dog, seized the little animal, and shook it with great violence. On loosing his prey, the little dog leaped up on the bed, and sought the protection of his mas er; thither the mastiff pursued him, and, placing his paws on the bed, he laid hold of, not the dog, but his master, whom he dragged from the bed to the ground, where he held him for a while; at length Mr. Somerwill caught his assailant by the throat, and regained his legs, but it was with the utmost difficulty he could withstand his powerful enemy. Fortunately for him, a piece of hoop iron was within his reach, which served him for a weapon, wherewith he continued to beat the head of his shaggy antagonist till he had cleft his skull, and finally destroyed him. Mr. Somerwill received no other injury than the alarm and fatigue occasioned by the contest, the thickness of his clothes having proved a protection from the fangs of his canine foe.

HUNTING BY STEAM.

A friend of mine startled me a little by stating that he occasionally took the same horse ninely-miles to cover, and after a day's hunting, brought him home a like distance."Unless you hunt by steam," I exclaimed, "it is impossible!" "Why," says he, "that's the whole secret. I go with my horse on board the steamer at Quebec, and reached Trois Rivière in good time to breakfast, hunt with my father-in-law, who keeps a pack, and return to Quebec by the afternoon boat."Ferguson's Visit to the United States and Canada, in 1831.

SPEED AND STRENGTH OF IRISH HORSES.

The man who rode express from Cork to obtain Mr. O'Connell's assistance as Counsel, performed the journey on the same horse, in a most extraordinary manner. Mr. O'Connell lives in the wildest part of Kerry, and the country for half the journey is very mountainous. Burke left Cork at five o'clock on Saturday evening, and reached Mr. O'Connell's on Sunday morning at half-past eight o'clock. He rested and refreshed his horse two hours, and rode him back to Cork at eight on Monday morning; thus performing, within thirty-eight hours, a journey of 180 Irish miles, on very rough roads, upon the same horse. What say the Americans to this ex. ploit. It resembles the flight of the wild animal that bore away Mazeppa in Lord Byron's beautiful poem.

"TO A WATERFOWL."

By William Bryant, an American Poet.
"Whither, midst falling dew,
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day,
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
Thy solitary way?

Vainly the fowler's eye
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky
Thy figure floats along.

Seek'st thou the plashy brink
Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
On the chafed ocean side?
There is a Power whose care
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast-
The desert and illimitable air-

Lone wandering, but not lost.

All day thy wings have fanned,
At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere,
Yet stoop not, weary to the welcome land,
Though the dark night is near.

And soon that toil shall end,
Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest
And scream among thy fellows: reeds shall bend
Soon o'er thy sheltered nest.

Thou'rt gone-the abyss of heaven
Hath swallowed up thy form; yet on my heart
Deeply hast sunk the lesson thou hast given,
And shall not soon depart.

He, who from zone to zone, ' Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright."