held to his lips; and, as it refreshed him, while looking down, his eye fell upon the ghastly wound that rested on his shoulder. The truth, with all its horrors, burst upon him. The violent struggle that he made against his bonds forced the blood from his nostrils; no cry of terror could escape his lips, and the next moment he fainted. When he recovered, the effects of intoxication had completely ceased, and he sent forth loud cries for assistance; shout after shout rang through the air, until his voice became feeble and hoarse; he could not move his eye from the horrid spectacle, but kept it involuntarily fixed on it, like one who watches the movements of a foe while standing face to face with him. The turkey-buzzards now hovered over them, attracted by the smell of the dead body; and, oh! how he welcomed their appearance! They, like all other carrion birds, commence with the eye, and it would indeed be a blessing for him to lose his sight. Just as the welcome bird was venturing near, an invidious arrow pierced its body, and it fell near enough to them to be a warning to others. The lake that brought the cause of all this tragic scene, lay smooth and wide before him; what heavy curses fell from his lips against the white man! Had the captain been chained there instead of his brother, he could have borne it with delight. Again his eye fell on his victim, and another loud, long, piercing, straining scream, was followed by the wild laugh of an idiot; then came tears and fiendish execrations, convulsive shudders and spasmodic gasps for breath, mixed with hysteric sobs, as he struggled in vain ; the body moving as he moved, the hand pressing more closely on his heart the more he strove to liberate himself, while the wound, as the body decayed, became distended more and more from his violent efforts.

Three days had he remained in this situation, when the sentinels, who had already tasted the pernicious beverage, were unable longer to withstand the temptation, for everything had been left as it was when the murder was committed. The war-cry had gone through the land, and the remainder of the tribe had left the spot;

the sentinels, to whose integrity the whole nation might have been intrusted, had been tainted by the vices, subsequent to the abuse of the luxuries of life; they broached the spirits, and soon became intoxicated: in this state they liberated the criminal, and fell immediately beneath his hand.

In the following year, about the same season, when the sky was beautifully clear, the weather mild, the surface of the lake but gently ruffled by the golden ripple that came dancing from the west, the white sails of the schooner were seen gracefully spread, reflecting from their concave form the red rays of the evening sun as she approached her former moorings. This is strange, thought the captain, as they drew near; very strange. He had been watching for the smoke from their fires, which had directed him on a former occasion, but now no smoke was visible. We surely were expected, he muttered to himself.

He was expected!

When the vessel was brought to anchor, seeing no canoes come out to welcome him, he conceived the Indians to have changed their fishing-ground to some other spot, and determined to go on shore, to ascertain if any traces of them might be left. He took two men and the mate with him in the boat, and, landing at the accustomed place, proceeded to the camp. He saw, to his astonishment, everything as he had left it, but the trunk of the dead tree in the centre. As he approached nearer, he discovered a skeleton fastened to it, so as to be swinging to and fro in the breeze; two other skeletons lay upon the ground, beside which sat a tall, gray-headed Indian. In his hand he held part of a raw fish, which he was devouring, without apparently noticing their approach. His eye was glassy and wild. When the captain spoke, he made no answer, nor even turned his gaze away from some object on which it seemed fixed. But when the captain approached within a couple of yards, at one bound the Indian sprang upon him with the cry of a hyæna, and fixing his teeth and fingers firm in his throat,

forced him to the ground. In vain the men tried to remove his hold: it was the iron grasp of death. When they did succeed in tearing them apart, both were dead, and the men discovered in the features of the grayheaded Indian their once friendly chief, who seemed to have prolonged a miserable life, merely sustained by an Indian's revenge.

Other traders soon contrived to visit the village of the tribe in the interior, and to introduce, with other luxuries of civilisation, the use of ardent spirits. The ancient and virtuous habits of the Indians were now depraved; they were unable to compete with their enemies, returned from their hunting - expeditions in disgrace, and, as their feeble remnant now tell you, THEIR NATION IS NO

MORE.

THE OX'S MINUET:

AN INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OF HAYDN.

IN 1770, the reputation of the German composer, Joseph Haydn, had spread over all Europe. He had visited Paris and London, and in both cities had been greatly cherished and admired. But he was glad to return again to Vienna, on leaving which he had wept like a child. The house which he occupied in the Austrian capital was a modest one, and was situated in the suburbs; but it was a house honoured and resorted to by all the great lords of the court, who would fain have possessed the character at least of being connoisseurs in music, and patrons of its professors. There, too, did poor artists often find counsel and aid in their distresses. Born of humble parents himself, Haydn was ever mindful of the wants of the obscure and humble followers of his art. Generous, virtuous, sensitive, and simple as a child, Joseph Haydn ought to have been perfectly happy in his

course through the world; but this was not exactly the case. When very young, he had wedded one whose personal attractions made a strong impression on him. Unfortunately, her spirit and temperament proved to be of a very inferior order, and for thirty years the great musician underwent much domestic discomfort in consequence. Yet he was a faithful husband, and even loved his wife to the last with all the strength of his first and boyish affection.

On his return from London to Vienna, Haydn found his wife the same being that he had left her-morose, obstinate, imperious, and quarrelsome. All that the poor composer could do, was to fly to his little study, and in that retreat seek consolation in the pursuit of his beloved art. One afternoon, after a storm of the ordinary kind had passed over his domestic horizon, Haydn fled to his sanctum, and had forgotten his troubles awhile over his harpsichord, when his domestic brought him information, that a man wished to speak with him on an affair of pressing moment.

'Let him enter,' said Haydn.

‘Pray, pardon—excuse me,' said a stout jolly-looking personage as he entered the room, holding a heavy purse of florins in his hand, and attired in the habit of a cattledealer or butcher. You are famous, sir,' continued this individual, 'for being the grandest composer of minuets in all Austria, or any where else in truth; and as I am going to have my daughter married to-morrow, I come to ask you to oblige me by making one on purpose for the nuptials.'*

'My good friend,' said the musician, 'you embarrass me by this request. I have made few or no minuets, as you seem to have been told; the few trifles of that nature which have been composed by me would not do for dancing to. They are things rather written for artists, and are more learned than lively.'

*When the minuet was a favourite dance, a piece of new music, suitable for it, was a thing in as high esteem and request as a fine waltz is at present in the world of fashion.

'So much the better,' replied the stout cattle-merchant ; 'that is the very thing I want. My son-in-law, that is to be, is famous upon the clarinet, and my little girl is clever at the harpsichord; so you see, Master Haydn, that your grand music won't go like pearls to swine. And then, to own the truth to you, I am as proud as an emperor, though I be no more than a butcher to my trade. I heard your beautiful mass on the birthday of our gracious sovereign, Joseph II., and I said to myself: "This composer is the man who shall make a minuet for the wedding of my little girl, or my name is not Hermann of Rorhau!"

'Of Rorhau!' cried Haydn. What are you from that little village of Hungary?'

'Not a doubt of it,' returned the visitor; and what then?'

"I was born there,' exclaimed the simple and warmhearted composer; 'I was born at Rorhau, and for forty years I have not seen it! Embrace me, my friend, my dear fellow-countryman !' The tears ran down the composer's cheeks. In embracing Hermann, he felt as if he clasped in his arms all whom he had loved in boyhood, when, poor and needy, he had sung in the village choir, to gain a morsel of food for his widowed mother.

And you are from Rorhau!' repeated Haydn, dwelling affectionately upon the recollections called up. Come, sit down, I beg of you, and let us chat of our native place that place which one loves for ever, whatever may have been the toils there endured!' Hermann's heart was as much touched as that of his celebrated compatriot. He sat down, though only after some pressing, and talked of Rorhau with the musician. Finally, they came back to the minuet, and Hermann departed, happy in the promiso given to him, that he should have the desired music sent to him as soon as possible.

Sensitive as a child, Haydn yet felt a glow of pleasure from the recent recognition, and disposed himself with a cheerful heart to commence the epithalamial minuet. But great was his surprise, on turning to his harpsichord,