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In these beautiful scenes we saw numerous flocks of wild turkies, and now and then a prairie hen, or a deer bounding away through flowers. Here too is found the prairie wolf which some take to be the Asiatic jackall. It is so small as not to be dangerous alone. It is said however, that they hunt in packs like hounds, headed by a grey wolf. Thus they pursue the deer with a cry not unlike that of hounds, and have been known to rush by a farm-house in hot pursuit. The officers of the army stationed at the posts on the Prairies amuse themselves hunting these little wolves which in some parts are very numerous.

C. C.

RANDOM THOUGHTS.

"You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet; Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?"

"I was touched even more with vexation than with compassion, to see him, at Ferrara, in a state so piteous, outliving himself, and incapable of recognizing either himself or his works; which last, without his knowledge, though yet before his sight, were given to the world uncorrected and unfinished."

form the very climax of many intoxicating particulars.

If there be a marvel or an absurdity, the Rabbins rarely fail to adorn the fiction or the folly with some trait of their own. Their account of the matter is, that in patriarchal days, men never died except by sneezing, which was then the only disease, and always mortal. Apparently then, the antiquity of the Scotch nation and of rappee cannot be carried back to the time of Jacob. Be this point of chronology as it may, however, it is certain that the same sort of observance, as to sneezing, was found in America at the first discovery.

Aristotle is politely of opinion that the salutation was meant as an acknowledgment to the wind, for choosing an inoffensive mode of escape. But a stronger consideration is necessary to account for the joy with which the people of Monopotama celebrate the fact, when their monarch sneezes. The salutation is spread by loud acclamations, over the whole city. So, too, when he of Sennaar sneezes, his courtiers all turn their backs, and slap loudly their right thighs.

In the debate among the Doctors, when war is proposed, one of the Council speaks as follows.

Thus he: "'Tis true, when privilege and right Are once invaded, Honor bids us fight: But ere we yet engage in Honor's cause, First know what honor is, and whence its laws. Scorned by the base, 'tis courted by the brave; The hero's tyrant, yet the coward's slave: Born in the noisy camp, it feeds on air, And both exists by hope and by despair; Angry whene'er a moment's ease we gain, And reconciled at our returns of pain. It lives when in death's arms the hero lies; But when his safety he consults, it dies. Bigotted to this idol, we disclaim Rest, health and ease, for nothing but a name."

"Il n'y a, comme je crois, personne, qui ne pr?fer?t l'?tat d'une nation, o? il y auroit beaucoup de lumi?res quoiqu'il y e?t quelques libertins, ? celui d'une nation ignorante et qui croiroit tout ce qu'on lui enseigneroit, ou qui au moins ne donneroit aucunes marques de douter des sentimens re?us. Les lumi?res produisent infailliblement beaucoup de vertu dans l'esprit d'une bonne part de ceux qui les re?oivent; quoiqu'il y ait des gens qui en abusent. Mais l'Ignorance ne produit que de la barbarie et des vices dans tous ceux qui vivent tranquillement dans leurs t?n?bres. Il faudroit ?tre fou, par exemple, pour pr?ferer ou pour ?galer l'?tat auquel sont les Moscovites et d'autres nations, ? l'?gard de la Religion et de la vertu, ? celni auquel sont les Anglois et les Hollandois, sous pr?texte qu'il y a quelques libertins parmi ces deux peuples, et que les Moscovites et ceux qui leur ressemblent ne doubtent de rien."

The whole of this piece, indeed, is excellent, and full of candor, charity and sense, as to the temper and the principles of those who are forever striving to send into banishment, or shut up in prisons, or compel into eternal hypocrisy, all such opinions as have the misfortune to differ with their own.

"Such an one has seemed miraculous to the world, in whom his wife and his valet could not even perceive any thing remarkable. Few men have ever been admired by their own servants; none was ever a prophet in his own country, still less in his own household."

ODDS AND ENDS.

MR. EDITOR,--Many months having passed away since I last addressed you, I have flattered myself, as most old men are apt to do on such occasions, that you might very possibly begin to feel some little inclination to hear from me once more. Know then, my good sir, that I am still in the land of the living, and have collected several "odds and ends" of matters and things in general, which you may use or not, for your "Messenger," as the fancy strikes you.

Among the rest, I will proceed to give you a new classification of the Animal Kingdom--at least so far as our own race is concerned; a classification formed upon principles materially different from those adopted by the great father of Natural History--Linnaeus, who you know, classed us with whales and bats, under the general term, Mammalia! Now, I have always thought this too bad--too degrading for the lords and masters of all other animals on the face of the earth; and who deserve a distinct class to themselves, divided too into more orders than any other--nay, into separate orders for the two sexes. With much study, therefore, and not less labor, I have digested a system which assumes mental--instead of bodily distinctions, as much more certain and suitable guides in our researches. This may be applied without either stripping or partially exposing the person, as father Linnaeus' plan would compel us to do, whenever we were at a loss to ascertain whether the object before us was really one of the Mammalia class or not: for such are the marvellous, ever-varying metamorphoses wrought by modern fashions in the exteriors of our race, that the nicest observers among us would be entirely "at fault" on many occasions, to tell whether it was fish, flesh, or fowl that they saw. My plan, therefore, has at least one material advantage over the other; and it is quite sufficient, I hope, very soon to carry all votes in its favor.

I will next proceed to enumerate the different orders into which this most wonderful class is divided. The females, God bless them, being entitled, by immemorial usage, to the first rank, shall receive the first notice; and I will rank in the first order all those who have unquestionable claims to pre-eminence.

"I think, quoth Thomas, women's tongues Of aspen-leaves are made."

Having done with the description of the female orders of our race, as far as I can, at present recollect their number and distinctive characters, I now proceed to that of my own sex.

N.B. There is an order of the other sex so nearly resembling the one just described, that I am in a great quandary whether I should not have united them, since the principal difference which I can discover, after much study is, that the former wears petticoats and the latter pantaloons. You and your readers must settle it, for Oliver Oldschool can not.

"Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis aevum."

Streets and public squares constitute the great outdoor theatre for their multiform exhibitions. The first you meet perhaps, is one who is enacting the profound thinker, although, probably, if the truth were known, not three ideas that could lead to any useful result, have ever crossed his brain, once a year, since he was born. His pace is slow, but somewhat irregular and zig-zag; his eyes are generally fixed on the ground, as it were geologizing; the tip of his fore-finger is on his nose, or his upper lip compressed between that finger and his thumb; the other hand and arm unconsciously swung behind his back; and so deep is his abstraction, that, should you be meeting him, you must step aside, or risk a concussion of bodies, which must end either in a fight or mutual apologies.

Pass him as soon as you have had your laugh out, and you will not go far before you will meet some other, probably quite dissimilar to both the others, although actuated by the same indomitable passion for conquering nature. The two former moved at a rate such as would suit a funeral procession; but your next man may be seen hurrying along with the speed of a courier despatched after an accoucheur, or for a doctor to one at the point of death. His legs are moving with the utmost rapidity short of running, and his feet are thrown forward with a kind of sling, as if he were trying to kick off his shoes; while his arms, from the shoulder joint to the extremities, are alternately swung with a force and quickness of motion, as if he expected from them the same service that a boatman does from his oars. This worthy gentleman's highest ambition is, to be mistaken for a man nearly overwhelmed with business so multifarious and important, as scarcely to allow him time to eat or sleep, when it is very probable that he either has none at all, or none which would prevent him from moving quite as slowly as he pleased.

But in tender mercy to your own patience and that of your readers, both of which I have so severely taxed, I will conclude for the present, and remain your friend,

OLIVER OLDSCHOOL.

ON THE DEATH OF CAMILLA.

BY L. A. WILMER.

'Tis past; the dear delusive dream hath fled, And with it all that made existence dear; Not she alone, but all my joys are dead, For all my joys could live alone with her. O, if the grave e'er claim'd affection's tear, Then, loved Camilla, on thy clay-cold bed Clothed with the verdure of the new-born year, Where each wild flower its fragrance loves to shed-- There will I kneel and weep, and wish myself were dead.

Around this world-- I cast my eyes, and wish in vain to see Those rays of hope the skies in mercy shed-- Each dear memorial of Camilla dead-- Her image, by the pencil's aid retain'd, The sainted lock that once adorn'd her head, These sad mementos of my grief, remain'd To tell me I have lost what ne'er can be regain'd.

On these I gaze, on these my soul I bend, Breathe all my prayers, and offer every sigh; With these my joys, my hopes, my wishes blend,-- For these I live--for these I fain would die; These subject for my every thought supply-- Her picture smiles, unconscious of my woe, Benevolence beams from that azure eye, From mine the tears of bitter anguish flow, And yet she smiles serene, nor seems my grief to know!

Still let imagination view the saint, The seraph now--Camilla I behold!-- Such as the pen or pencil may not paint, In hues which shall not seem austerely cold. To fancy's eye her beauties still unfold. What fancy pictures in her wildest mood, What thought alone, and earth no more can mould She was; with all to charm mankind endued, Eve in her perfect state, in her once more renew'd!

Chang'd is the scene! The coffin and the tomb Enfold that form where every grace combin'd! Death draws his veil--envelopes in his gloom The boast of earth--the wonder of mankind! She died--without reluctance, and resigned; Without reluctance, but one tear let fall In pity for the wretch she left behind, To curse existence on this earthly ball-- One thought she gave to him, and then the heavens had all.

Who that hath seen her but hath felt her worth? Who praise withholds, and hopes to be forgiven? Her presence banish'd every thought of earth, Subdued each wish unfit to dwell in heaven. From all of earth her hopes and thoughts were riven, She lived regardful of the skies alone; A saint, but not by superstition driven, Not by the vow monastic, to atone For sins that ne'er were hers,--for sins to her unknown!

Hers was religion from all dross refin'd, A soul communing with its parent--God; Grateful for benefits and aye resigned To every dispensation of His rod. Pure and immaculate, life's path she trod-- Envy grew pale and calumny was dumb! Till drooping, dying--this floriferous sod, And this plain marble, point her lowly tomb; Even here she still inspires a reverential gloom!

O lost to earth, yet ever bless'd,--farewell! This poor oblation to thy grave I bring; O spotless maid, that now in heav'n dost dwell Where choral saints and radiant angels sing The eternal praises of the Almighty king; While this sad cypress and funereal yew Unite their boughs, their gloom around me fling, Congenial glooms, that all my own renew; I still invoke thy shade, still pause to bid adieu!

SONNET.

Science! meet daughter of old Time thou art, Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes! Why prey'st thou thus upon the poet's heart, Vulture! whose wings are dull realities! How should he love thee, or how deem thee wise, Who would'st not leave him in his wandering, To seek for treasure in the jewell'd skies, Albeit he soar with an undaunted wing? Hast thou not dragg'd Diana from her car, And driv'n the Hamadryad from the wood To seek a shelter in some happier star? The gentle Naiad from her fountain flood? The elfin from the green grass? and from me The summer dream beneath the shrubbery?

E. A. P.

THE LAKE.

The way we travelled along the southern shore of Lake Michigan was somewhat singular. There being no road, we drove right on the strand, one wheel running in the water. Thus we travelled thirty miles, at the rate of two miles an hour. In the lake we saw a great many gulls rocking on the waves and occasionally flying up into the air, sailing in circles, and fanning their white plumage in the sunshine.

While thus slowly winding along the sandy margin of the lake we met a number of Pottowatimies on horseback in Indian file, men with rifles, women with papooses, and farther on we passed an Indian village--wigwams of mats comically shaped. This village stood right on the shore of the lake; some Indian boys half-naked were playing in the sand, and an Indian girl of about fourteen was standing with arms folded looking towards the lake. There was, or I imagined there was, something in that scene, that attitude, that countenance of the Indian girl, touching and picturesque in the highest degree--a study for the painter.

Alas--these Indians! the dip of their paddle is unheard, the embers of the council-fire have gone out, and the bark of the Indian dog has ceased to echo in the forest. Their wigwams are burnt, the cry of the hunter has died away, the title to their lands is extinguished, the tribes, scattered like sheep, fade from the map of existence. The unhappy remnant are driven onward--onward to the ocean of the West. Such are the reflections that came into my mind, on seeing the beautiful Pottowatimie of Lake Michigan.

C. C.

THE HALL OF INCHOLESE.

BY J. N. McJILTON.

Well! Venice is a glorious place for fashion, fun and frolic; so have witnessed thousands--so witnessed Incholese.

Incholese was a foreigner--no matter whence, and many a jealous Venetian hated him to his heart's overflowing; the inimitable Pierre Bon-bon himself had not more sworn enemies, and no man that ever lived boasted more pretended friends, than did this celebrated operator on whiskey-punch and puddings.

Thousands flocked to this magnificent Hall--citizens, strangers, travellers; many drank, gambled, revelled--were ruined. Few left it but were blasted wrecks, both in health and fortune. Thousands left it, tottering from their madness, cursing the brilliant revel that lighted them to doom.

Millions rolled into the coffers of Incholese; he seemed a way-mark for fortune--a moving monument of luck. Hundreds of his emissaries went out in different directions, and through different kingdoms, supplied with gold, for the purpose of winning more for their wealthy master. The four cardinals of the compass with all the intermediate points became his avenues of wealth.

"Wealth is power"--Archimedes knew it when he experienced the want of means to make a lever long enough to reach beyond the power of this little world's attraction; and the ingenious Tippet often felt the inconvenience and uncomfortableness of the want of it in executing his admirable plans for perpetual motion.

Incholese was proud and spirited, and so completely was he irritated at the repeated efforts he made to gain a single hour's social converse with the lofty Helen of his hopes, that he vowed at last at the risk of a special nuncio from his Holiness to go the length of his fortune to bring her upon a level with himself if he remained in the parallax but fifteen minutes.

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