of the nopal, the maguey seemed at that season to be the only ve getable production near the town, and we saw several plants that had attained an immense size, with tall spikes of flowers, running to the height of twenty or thirty feet.

I strolled down to the river one morning, to seek a retired spot in which to bathe the children, and lighted, perchance, on a set of women who, ranged along the water's edge, were engaged in washing, a ceremony they love to perform in the open air. Some had batellas, a kind of trough they make use of in washing; but the greater number had selected smooth, flat stones, of which abundance lay in the halfdried bed of the river, on which they were very leisurely rubbing and pounding their clothes, kneeling on the ground, and leaning over so that at first glance nothing meets the eye but a mop of uncombed hair. This was shaken back as they raised their heads to gaze, and a row of jet black eyes were fixed upon us, and fine sets of teeth were displayed, something redeeming the character of otherwise remarkably coarse unpleasant features. I soon perceived, what indeed is no uncommon sight amongst them, that these women had stript off their clothes, and were washing their entire ward. robes, leaving nothing about them but an old, dark petticoat; a handkerchief swung round the neck served as a slight veil in some instances, but others had neglected even that small addition of decency: let their condition be imagined, my pen refuses to describe their disgusting appearance.

The country for several leagues beyond Tula is little better than a desert; no prospect opens to the view beyond the barren hills which rise one after another, offering not a feature to diversify the scene. The parched soil was nearly destitute of vegetation-"no palm-tree rose to spot the wilderness," and no cheerful sound of birds nor insects broke the gloomy silence that prevailed; the rays of the sun descended with a peculiar, and scorching power I never before experienced, that seemed to dry up every particle of moisture on the skin as well as from the thirsty lips. By some accident I had, with one companion, been left behind the rest of the party, so that no refreshment was at hand; and for the first time in our lives we knew what it was really to need and to long in vain for a draught of cold water. "Faint and wearily" we dragged along, and began to compare our situation to that of travellers on the deserts of Ara. bia, when a few trees cheered our sight, sure indications of water; and on surmounting a neighbouring brow a cottage appeared, and near it some overshadowing trees, beneath which we espied our little party contentedly reposing and waiting our arrival. We partook, as usual, of the slight refreshment afforded by our own stores, and

proceeded on our way, till after another scorching ride we gladly alighted at the door of a snug circular cabin, which a large family evacuated at our approach, and where we accommodated ourselves very comfortably for the night.

"BIRD OF MY HEART!"

BIRD of my heart,-come, sing to me
The dear, old tunes of early hours,
And, as thou sing'st, I'll weave for thee

A nest of Summer's sweetest flowers:
There shalt thou sleep, if on my breast
Thou find'st a less congenial rest,
There shalt thou sleep, if by my side
Thy beauteous plumes thou wilt not hide!-

Bird of my heart,-in distant climes

I've strayed since last thy notes I heard;
And, after Vesper's solemn chimes,
I've listened to the Evening bird;
That songstress strange, who only sings
When Night unfolds her sable wings-
But ah! than thine a fainter tale
Was warbled by the nightingale!—

Bird of my heart,-thy lightest tone
Lulls all my senses to repose;
So sings the Eastern charmer lone,

So droops to sleep the captive rose !
Come, sing-and to my soul entice
A pictured dream of Paradise;
For in that dream I shall not see
A Houri, angel, saint, like thee!

Bird of my heart,- -come sing to me
The song it thrills my heart to hear,
And as thou sing'st, I'll fancy thee

The spirit of some starry sphere ;-
For Music, poets call divine
And once she made her secret thine,
And, touching her melodious shell,
Hung on thy lips her magic spell!

P. B.

VANDERLYN,

OR THE FORTUNES OF AN ADVENTURER.

CHAPTER III.

Family appendages—“ A banquet hall deserted”—Feudal sportsman-On the road-A new heroine—A river adventure-First entrance into the metropolis.

He passed

From out the massy gate of that old Hall
And, mounting on his steed he went his way.

Byron.

"ALL ready, Massa Washy, all ready," said 'Cobus the old ostler, thrusting his gray head into my room on the third morning after that mentioned in the last chapter-" Massa Paer (my brother Pierre) he wish me say good bye for him; but old Dinah be de only one what's stirring." And not a soul indeed was stirring about the house, except these faithful negroes--a remnant of the manumitted race of old family servants, of whom there are still some genuine specimens upon Long Island. The morning was raw, and the old hall, where no fire had yet been made, looked cheerless enough as the remains of an entertainment, which my elder brothers had given to some sporting friends the night before, met my eye in descending the staircase. The old black woman had prepared a hot cup of coffee and a broiled quail for me, and placed a clean napkin over the soiled cloth at one end of the long table; but the traces of last night's symposia, the remnants of one or two seasoned dishes which had been served up at the end of the feast to give the revellers a new relish for their wine, with the intermingled fumes of neglected heel-taps and half-smoked segars, effectually took away my appetite. Hastily swallowing the coffee, I left the bird untouched, and taking an affectionate adieu of old Dinah, who detained me for a few moments with directions about the care of my linen, I joined my black squire in the avenue before the house, and was soon in the saddle with 'Cobus for my only escort.

My family had certainly not taken a very affectionate leave of me considering the circumstances under which I left home, and such a gloom had settled around the scenes of my childhood within the last few days, that it was a relief to me to leave it; still when I passed the granary and other out-buildings, which at the time when

the farm was worked by slaves, had been placed at some distance from the house, and which now seemed to be the last outposts of my homestead, a yearning of the heart came over me such as I have but once in life felt since; and that was, when deeming my. self about to perish in a distant clime, the wish nearest my soul was that the waves of ocean might some day toss my bones upon the loved shores of my native island. I controlled the feeling, however, and issuing from the last gate of my father's grounds, rode quietly on with my companion.

There is yet one individual unmentioned who felt an interest in my departure; and as he presented himself before we emerged upon the public road, it would be wrong to allow one to whom I am indebted for more than one accomplishment that has been of service to me in my changing fortunes to pass unnoticed here. He was a specimen of that miserable aboriginal race at present to be found only on the east end of the island, but which at that day still hung around the scenes I have described, where they claimed a prescriptive, and sort of feudal right of hunting upon the grounds of the proprietors, taking fire-wood, &c., &c., as long as any of their number survived. Indian Joe, for such was the only name by which this worthy was known in the country around, seemed to have made his last night's lair beneath the fence that skirted the green lane through which we rode; at least he was now stretched beneath the lowermost rail upon which his tattered sleeve rested as he indolently raised himself upon one arm, and, heedless of the parallel rays of the sun which played full in his dark eyes, lifted his straw hat to salute me.

“Come, Joe,” I cried, " gather up that long body of yours if you have any thing to say to me. You and I are about to part, my old

fellow, for many a year I'm afraid."

"Ay! ay! Joe learnt that soon enough," answered the poor creature in good English, shaking his head with a doleful expression of countenance, and slowly picking himself from the ground as I drew up near him.

"And what's to become of Joe"-he continued-" when the young Colonel's gone? Going, too, when I had just whittled him out as nice a pair of stool ducks as can be found between Fire Island-inlet and Canoe-place. The brant will fly mighty fine this fall, Colonel; (such was my soubriquet in the neighbourhood,) and old Suffolk has never seen such a season as this will be for deer."

"True, Joe! but I expect to see game as plenty as it is here before I hunt with you again; I think of going off among your people at the west."

VOL. IX.

35

"I've heard tell of these Indians-wild chaps aren't they, that take a buck between the horns on the full jump with their rifles as easily as I've seen you, Colonel, crack over a widgeon at a hundred yards with the old duck gun. They say those Indians are mighty rich too-large housen-plenty o' cattle and all that sort o' thing. I guess they didn't give their lands away as our people did-though we have still just as much right to hunt over them as any one—~ meaning no offence to the old squire, Colonel."

Joe, I perceived, had heard something of the condition of the farming Cherokees-from a newspaper, perhaps, read aloud in some bar-room, whither his vagabond habits led him, and had confounded the condition of his civilized red brethren of the south with the free habits of the untamed aborigines of the west. I explained to him in a few words the situation of both, and his tone of discontent at once altered.

"What!" he exclaimed. "They work for their livings, do they the fellows that own the cattle? work like niggers, eh! and the wild ones live on such meat as they can take in the woods? Hunt, hunt all the time! But I suppose though they can get no fish there worth the mentioning, yet they make out with clams and oysters when game's not in season."

The native-born fisherman looked aghast when I told him they had neither. "What! no oysters? well then the old Southside's the place for me after all. I was thinking last night I'd like to go with you Colonel, for it's lonesome hereabouts since queen Moll died. But I don't see how a poor fellow can manage to live with. out work where there are no clams and oysters to be had. And wherever we went I should like somehow to get back in time to leave my old bones at last among these sand-hills.”

I told him I approved of his determination, and explained as well as I could to one of his limited views of things, that I should be glad to have such a. worthy follower of my fortunes at my side; yet that my prospect of travel was remote, and that in the meantime we could neither of us serve the other amid the scenes wherein my lot was at present cast.

"Well, well," said he in reply, "I don't understand the half that you tell me ; but I am not the less beholden to you, Colonel, who now as ever treat Poor Joe as if he had a head like other men, though he did happen to be born with a red face on one side of it."

“Which he is determined sha'n't loose its complexion if rum can refresh the colour-Eh Joe? Well, there's something for you to drink my health with, and now good bye."

The old man placed one hand in mine without saying a word, and then fumbling in his bosom with the other, he drew out a shot