and stunning rattle of the wind would have drowned them, so loud it roared and raved through the trees.' Even the lowlands in such a region are not without their terrors. The black threatening clouds seemed gradually to descend until they kissed the earth, and already the distant mountains were hidden to their very bases. A hollow murmuring swept through the bottom, but as yet not a branch was stirred by wind; and the huge cotton-woods, with their leafless limbs, loomed like a line of ghosts through the heavy gloom. Know ing but too well what was coming, I turned my animals towards the timber, which was about two miles distant. With pointed ears, and actually trembling with fright, they were as eager as myself to reach the shelter; but before we had proceeded a third of the distance, with a deafening roar the tempest broke upon us. The clouds opened and drove right in our faces a storm of freezing sleet, which froze upon us as it fell. The first squall of wind carried away my cap, and the enormous hailstones, beating on my unprotected head and face, almost stunned me. In an instant my hunting-shirt was soaked, and as instantly frozen hard; and my horse was a mass of icicles. Jumping off my mule-for to ride was impossible-I tore off the saddle-blanket and covered my head. The animals, blinded with the sleet, and their eyes actually coated with ice, turned their sterns to the storm, and, blown before it, made for the open prairie. All my exertions to drive them to the shelter of the timber were useless. It was impossible to face the hurricane, which now brought with it clouds of driving snow; and perfect darkness soon set in. Still the animals kept on, and I determined not to leave them, following, or rather being blown, after them. My blanket, frozen stiff like a board, required all the strength of my numbed fingers to prevent it being blown away; and although it was no protection against the intense cold, I knew it would in some degree shelter me at night from the snow. In half an hour, the ground was covered on the bare prairie to the depth of two feet, and through this I floundered for a long time before the animals stopped.

'The way the wind roared over the prairie that night -how the snow drove before it, covering me and the poor animals partly-and how I lay there, feeling the very blood freezing in my veins, and my bones petrifying with the icy blasts which seemed to penetrate them -how for hours I remained with my head on my knees, and the snow pressing it down like a weight of lead, expecting every instant to drop into a sleep from which I knew it was impossible I should ever awake-how every now and then the mules would groan aloud and fall down upon the snow, and then again struggle on their legs-how all night long the piercing howl of wolves was borne upon the wind, which never for an instant abated its violence during the night-I would not attempt to describe. I have passed many nights alone in the wilderness, and in a solitary camp have listened to the roarings of the wind and the howling of wolves, and felt the rain or snow beating upon me, with perfect unconcern; but this night threw all my former experiences into the shade, and is marked with the blackest of stones in the memoranda of my journeyings.'

But we must now come to the most interesting portion of the work-a description of the trappers of the Rocky Mountains, who, according to our author, appear to approximate more to the primitive savage than perhaps any other class of civilised man. Their lives are spent in the remote wilds of the mountains, and their habits and character exhibit a mixture of simplicity and ferocity, impressed upon them, one would think, by the strange phenomena of nature in the midst of which they live. Food and clothing are their only wants, and the pursuit of these is the great source of their perils and hardships. With their rifle habitually in their hand, they are constantly on the watch against danger, or engaged in the supply of provisions.

'Keen observers of nature, they rival the beasts of prey in discovering the haunts and habits of game, and

in their skill and cunning in capturing it. Constantly exposed to perils of all kinds, they become callous to any feeling of danger, and destroy human as well as animal life with as little scruple, and as freely, as they expose their own. Of laws human or Divine, they neither know nor care to know. Their wish is their law, and to attain it, they do not scruple as to ways and means. Firm friends and bitter enemies, with them it is "a word and a blow," and the blow often first. They may have good qualities, but they are those of the animal; and people fond of giving hard names call them revengeful, bloodthirsty, drunkards (when the wherewithal is to be had), gamblers, regardless of the laws of meum and tuum-in fact, "white Indians." However, there are exceptions, and I have met honest mountain-men. Their animal qualities, however, are undeniable. Strong, active, hardy as bears, daring, expert in the use of their weapons, they are just what uncivilised white man might be supposed to be in a brute state, depending upon his instinct for the support of life. Not a hole or corner in the vast wilderness of the "far west" but has been ransacked by these hardy men. From the Mississippi to the mouth of the Colorado of the west, from the frozen regions of the north to the Gila in Mexico, the beaver-hunter has set his traps in every creek and stream. All this vast country, but for the daring enterprise of these men, would be even now a terra incognita to geographers, as indeed a great portion still is; but there is not an acre that has not been passed and repassed by the trappers in their perilous excursions. The mountains and streams still retain the names assigned to them by the rude hunters; and these alone are the hardy pioneers who have paved the way for the settlement of the western country.'

Trappers are of two kinds-the hired and the free: the former being merely hired for the hunt by the fur companies, while the latter is supplied with animals and traps by the company, and receives a certain price for his furs and peltries.

There is likewise a third trapper on his own hook,' more independent than either. He has animals and traps of his own, chooses his own hunting-grounds, and selects his own market. From this class, which is small in number, the novelists may be supposed to select their romantic trappers, who amuse their leisure with sentiment and philosophy.

The equipment of the trapper is as follows:-' On starting for a hunt, he fits himself out with the necessary equipment, either from the Indian trading-forts, or from some of the petty traders - -coureurs des bois

who frequent the western country. This equipment consists usually of two or three horses or mulesone for saddle, the others for packs-and six traps, which are carried in a bag of leather called a trap-sack. Ammunition, a few pounds of tobacco, dressed deerskins for moccasins, &c. are carried in a wallet of dressed buffalo-skin, called a “possible-sack." His "possibles and "trap-sack" are generally carried on the saddlemule when hunting, the others being packed with the furs. The costume of the trapper is a hunting-shirt of dressed buckskin, ornamented with long fringes; pantaloons of the same material, and decorated with porcupine-quills and long fringes down the outside of the leg. A flexible felt-hat and moccasins clothe his extremities. Over his right shoulder and under his left arm hang his powder-horn and bullet-pouch, in which he carries his balls, flint and steel, and odds and ends of all kinds. Round the waist is a belt, in which is stuck a large butcher's-knife in a sheath of buffalo-hide, made fast to the belt by a chain or guard of steel; which also supports a little buckskin case containing a whetstone. A tomahawk is also often added, and of course a long heavy rifle is part and parcel of his equipment. I had nearly forgotten the pipe-holder, which hangs round his neck, and is generally a gage d'amour, and a triumph of squaw workmanship, in shape of a heart, garnished with beads and porcupine-quills.'

Thus furnished with everything that is necessary,

and having chosen the locality of his trappingground, he sets out on his expedition to the mountains, sometimes alone, sometimes with several more in company, as soon as the breaking up of the ice permits. Arrived on his hunting-grounds, he follows the creeks and streams, keeping a sharp look-out for "sign." If he sees a prostrate cotton-wood tree, he examines it, to discover if it be the work of beaverwhether "thrown' for the purpose of food, or to dam the stream. The track of the beaver on the mud or sand under the bank is also examined; and if the "sign" be fresh, he sets his trap in the run of the animal, hiding it under water, and attaching it by a stout chain to a picket driven in the bank, or to a bush or tree. A "float-stick" is made fast to the trap by a cord a few feet long, which, if the animal carry away the trap, floats on the water, and points out its position. The trap is baited with the "medicine," an oily substance obtained from the beaver. A stick is dipped into this, and planted over the trap; and the beaver, attracted by the smell, and wishing a close inspection, very foolishly puts his leg into the trap, and is a "gone beaver."

When a lodge is discovered, the trap is set at the edge of the dam, at the point where the animal passes from deep to shoal water, and always under water. Early in the morning, the hunter mounts his mule and examines the traps. The captured animals are skinned, and the tails, which are a great dainty, carefully packed into camp. The skin is then stretched over a hoop or framework of osier-twigs, and is allowed to dry, the flesh and fatty substance being carefully scraped (grained). When dry, it is folded into a square sheet, the fur turned inwards, and the bundle, containing about ten to twenty skins, tightly pressed and corded, and is ready for transportation.

'During the hunt, regardless of Indian vicinity, the fearless trapper wanders far and near in search of "sign." His nerves must ever be in a state of tension, and his mind ever present at his call. His eagle eye sweeps round the country, and in an instant detects any foreign appearance. A turned leaf, a blade of grass pressed down, the uneasiness of the wild animals, the flight of birds, are all paragraphs to him written in nature's legible hand and plainest language. All the wits of the subtle savage are called into play to gain an advantage over the wily woodsman; but with the natu- | ral instinct of primitive man, the white hunter has the advantages of a civilised mind; and thus provided, seldom fails to outwit, under equal advantages, the cunning savage.'

Yet sometimes the precautions of the white hunter are vain. The Indian, observing where he has set his traps, creeps towards them in such a way as to leave no trail, and couches patiently in the bushes till his victim comes. Then flies the arrow; and at so short a distance it rarely flies in vain. The whiz is hardly in the ear of the victim when the point is in his heart, and the exulting savage has a white scalp to carry home for the adornment of his lodge. But the balance of spoil of this kind, it must be said, is greatly in favour of the trappers, whose camp-fires, at the end of the hunt, exhibit twelve black scalps for every one their comrades have lost.

'At a certain time, when the hunt is over, or they have loaded their pack-animals, the trappers proceed to the "rendezvous," the locality of which has been previously agreed upon; and here the traders and agents of the fur companies await them, with such assortment of goods as their hardy customers may require, including generally a fair supply of alcohol. The trappers drop in singly and in small bands, bringing their packs of beaver to this mountain market, not unfrequently to the value of a thousand dollars each, the produce of one hunt. The dissipation of the rendezvous, however, soon turns the trapper's pocket inside out. The goods brought by the traders, although of the most inferior quality, are sold at enormous prices :-Coffee,

twenty and thirty shillings a pint-cup, which is the usual measure; tobacco fetches ten and fifteen shillings a plug; alcohol, from twenty to fifty shillings a pint; gunpowder, sixteen shillings a pint-cup; and all other articles at proportionably exorbitant prices.

The "beaver" is purchased at from two to eight dollars per pound; the Hudson's Bay Company alone buying it by the pluie, or "plew "-that is, the whole skin; giving a certain price for skins, whether of old beaver or "kittens."

'The rendezvous is one continued scene of drunkenness, gambling, and brawling and fighting, as long as the money and credit of the trappers last. Seated, Indian fashion, round the fires, with a blanket spread before them, groups are seen with their "decks" of cards, playing at euker," "poker," and "seven-up," the regular mountain-games. The stakes are "beaver," which here is current coin; and when the fur is gone, their horses, mules, rifles, and shirts, hunting-packs, and breeches, are staked. Daring gamblers make the rounds of the camp, challenging each other to play for the trapper's highest stake-his horse, his squaw (if he have one), and, as once happened, his scalp! There go "hos and beaver!" is the mountain expression when any great loss is sustained; and sooner or later, "hos and beaver" invariably find their way into the insatiable pockets of the traders. A trapper often squanders the produce of his hunt, amounting to hundreds of dollars, in a couple of hours; and, supplied on credit with another equipment, leaves the rendezvous for another expedition, which has the same result time after time; although one tolerably successful hunt would enable him to return to the settlements and civilised life, with an ample sum to purchase and stock a farm, and enjoy himself in ease and comfort the remainder of his days.

'An old trapper, a French Canadian, assured me that he had received fifteen thousand dollars for beaver during a sojourn of twenty years in the mountains. Every year he resolved in his mind to return to Canada, and, with this object, always converted his fur into cash; but a fortnight at the "rendezvous" always cleaned him out, and, at the end of twenty years, he had not even credit sufficient to buy a pound of powder.

These annual gatherings are often the scene of bloody duels, for over their cups and cards no men are more quarrelsome than your mountaineers. Rifles, at twenty paces, settle all differences; and, as may be imagined, the fall of one or other of the combatants is certain, or, as sometimes happens, both fall to the word "fire."

1

We have already given some specimens of our author's skill in painting from nature; but the following scene, though often sketched, has rarely been treated with a freer and firmer touch. It is a scene far from unfamiliar to the trapper:-'A little before sunset I descended the mountain to the springs; and being very tired, after taking a refreshing draught of the cold water, I lay down on the rock by the side of the water and fell fast asleep. When I awoke the sun had already set; but although darkness was fast gathering over the mountain, I was surprised to see a bright light flickering against its sides. A glance assured me that the mountain was on fire, and starting up, I saw at once the danger of my position. The bottom had been fired about a mile below the springs, and but a short distance from where I had secured my animals. A dense cloud of smoke was hanging over the gorge, and presently a light air springing up from the east, a mass of flame shot up into the sky and rolled fiercely up the stream, the belt of dry | brush on its banks catching fire and burning like tinder. The mountain was already invaded by the devouring element, and two wings of flame spread out from the main stream, which, roaring along the bottom with the speed of a race-horse, licked the mountain side, extending its long line as it advanced. The dry pines and cedars hissed and cracked as the flame, reaching them, ran up

their trunks, and spread amongst the limbs, whilst the long waving grass underneath was a sea of fire. From the rapidity with which the fire advanced, I feared that it would already have reached my animals, and hurried at once to the spot as fast as I could run. The prairie itself was as yet untouched, but the surrounding ridges were clothed in fire, and the mules, with stretched ropes, were trembling with fear. Throwing the saddle on my horse, and the pack on the steadiest mule, I quickly mounted, leaving on the ground a pile of meat, which I had not time to carry with me. The fire had already gained the prairie, and its long dry grass was soon a sheet of flame; but, worse than all, the gap through which I had to retreat was burning. Setting spurs into Panchito's sides, I dashed him at the burning brush, and though his mane and tail were singed in the attempt, he gallantly charged through it, Looking back, I saw the mules huddled together on the other side, and evidently fearing to pass the blazing barrier. As, however, to stop would have been fatal, I dashed on, but before I had proceeded twenty yards, my old hunting mule, singed and smoking, was at my side, and the others close behind her.

'On all sides I was surrounded by fire. The whole scenery was illuminated, the peaks and distant ridges being as plainly visible as at noonday. The bottom was a roaring mass of flame, but on the other side, the prairie being more bare of cedar-bushes, the fire was less fierce, and presented the only way of escape. To reach it, however, the creek had to be crossed, and the bushes on the banks were burning fiercely, which rendered it no easy matter; moreover, the edges were coated above the water with thick ice, which rendered it still more difficult. I succeeded in pushing Panchito into the stream, but in attempting to climb the opposite bank, a blaze of fire was puffed into his face, which caused him to rear on end, and his hind feet flying away from him at the same moment on the ice, he fell backwards into the middle of the stream, and rolled over me in the deepest water. Panchito rose on his legs, and stood trembling with affright in the middle of the stream, whilst I dived and groped for my rifle, which had slipped from my hands, and of course sunk to the bottom. After a search of some minutes I found it, and again mounting, made another attempt to cross a little farther down, in which I succeeded, and followed by the mules, dashed through the fire, and got safely through the line of blazing brush.'

Upwards of 100,000 buffalo robes find their way into the United States and Canada every year; and besides those killed by the Indians, innumerable carcases left to rot untouched on the trail, attest the wanton brutality of the crowds of emigrants to California, Columbia, and elsewhere. Still the numbers of these animals are countless; and it will probably be many years before the reckless whites accomplish the feat of stripping the boundless prairies of their ornament and pride, and depriving the traveller of a meal. We have now only room for the following masterly description of the death of a buffalo, which will serve as an appropriate tailpiece to a more faithful portrait of the trapper of the Rocky Mountains than has probably ever before been drawn.

'No animal requires so much killing as a buffalo. Unless shot through the lungs or spine, it invariably escapes; and, even when thus mortally wounded, or even struck through the very heart, it will frequently run a considerable distance before falling to the ground, particularly if it sees the hunter after the wound is given. If, however, he keeps himself concealed after firing, the animal will remain still, if it does not immediately fall. It is a most painful sight to witness the dying struggles of the huge beast. The buffalo invariably evinces the greatest repugnance to lie down when mortally wounded, apparently conscious that, when once touching mother earth, there is no hope left him. A bull, shot through the heart or lungs, with blood streaming from his mouth, and protruding tongue, is eyes rolling, bloodshot, and glazed with death, braces

himself on his legs, swaying from side to side, stamps impatiently at his growing weakness, or lifts his rugged and matted head and helplessly bellows out his conscious impotence. To the last, however, he endeavours to stand upright, and plants his limbs farther apart, but to no purpose. As the body rolls like a ship at sea, his head slowly turns from side to side, looking about, as it were, for the unseen and treacherous enemy who has brought him, the lord of the plains, to such a pass. Gouts of purple blood spurt from his mouth and nostrils, and gradually the failing limbs refuse longer to support the ponderous carcase; more heavily rolls the body from side to side, until suddenly, for a brief instant, it becomes rigid and still; a convulsive tremor seizes it, and with a low, sobbing gasp, the huge animal falls over on his side, the limbs extended stark and stiff, and the mountain of flesh without life or motion.'

GLEANINGS IN BIBLIOGRAPHY. RESEARCHES into the origin of the names applied to the various forms of written or printed documents have often engaged the attention of the curious--they have afforded matter for ingenious speculation to the antiquary, and given to the zealous bibliopole frequent opportunities

'painfully to pore upon a book To seek the light of truth.'

The Hebrew word sepher throughout the Scriptures is generally translated book; it might, however, with equal truth, be rendered writing, deed, tract, or pamphlet. In the Septuagint the translation is biblos, and in the Vulgate libellus. Dr Clarke quotes from an old version of the Bible, supposed to be earlier than Wickliffe'sWho ever schal leeve his wiif, geve he to her a lybel; that is, a lytil book of forsakynge.' The libelli-little books-are said to have first appeared about the commencement of the Christian era; and the term libellus was applied to many religious and legal documentslibellus poenitentialis-libellus famosus.

When tracts first came into existence, they were mostly confined to religious subjects: their name is derived from the Latin tractatus, something drawn out, as a summary or treatise. If,' as Hazlitt says, 'books, like wings, carry us o'er the world,' it must be confessed that the lightest books are often the heaviest wings: it would be difficult, indeed, to fly with the tracts that the schoolmen threw off as matters of recreation. "Some books,' it has been remarked, like the city of London, fare the better for being burnt.'

6

Antiquaries are in doubt as to the origin of the word pamphlet: various Greek derivations have been proposed, suggested probably by the syllable pan; in ancient times, however, paper was sometimes spelt pampier. The earliest known mention of the word occurs in Philobiblon,' a work of the fourteenth century, in which the learned and reverend author says he reveres books rather than pounds sterling-libros non libras' and 'panfletos' rather than 'palfridis.' In the reign of Henry VI. the term was pamflete; and plaunflet at the end of the fifteenth century. According to Dr Johnson, the derivation is from the French-par un filet, held by a thread; but another authority, Dr Pegge, suggests palme feuillet, leaf to be held in the hand. In the period of the civil wars, England was overrun with pamphlets; so fast did they multiply in the heat of party spirit, that the parliament passed a denunciation against pamphlet, treatise, ballad, libel, or sheet or sheets of news.' The rulers, perhaps, looking round on the popular literature of the day, anticipated the thought of a modern writer

'Huge reams of folly, shreds of wit,
Compose the mingled mass of it;'

and so, as prudent statesmen, applied a check to overproduction. Tracts and pamphlets, nevertheless, have done, and are still doing, good service, by carrying

Printing was first introduced into the South Sea Islands in June 1817, when the first native printed books were published at Cimeo, in the district of Afareaitu. The king, Pomare, had taken the greatest interest in the proceedings of the missionaries, and requested that he might be sent for whenever they were ready to go to work. The composing-stick was placed in his hand, and, with some assistance, the monarch composed the first page of the spelling-book, an alphabet in capitals, and small letters. He visited us almost daily,' writes Mr Ellis, until the 30th, when, having received intimation that the first sheet was ready for the press, he came, attended by only two of his favourite chiefs. They were, however, followed by a numerous train of his attendants, &c. who had by some means heard that the work was about to commence. Crowds of the natives were already collected around the door, but they made way for him; and after he and his two companions had been admitted, the door was closed, and the small window next the sea darkened, as he did not wish to be overlooked by the people outside. The king examined, with great minuteness and pleasure, the form as it lay on the press, and prepared to try to take off the first sheet ever printed in his dominions. Having been told how it was to be done, he jocosely charged his companions not to look very particularly at him, and not to laugh if he should not do it right. I put the printer's ink-ball into his hand, and directed him to strike it two or three times upon the face of the letters; this he did, and then placing a sheet of clean paper upon the parchment, it was covered down, turned under the press, and the king was directed to pull the handle. He did so, and when the paper was removed from beneath the press, and the covering lifted up, the chiefs and assistants rushed towards it to see what effect the king's pressure had produced. When they beheld the letters black, and large, and well-defined, there was one simultaneous expression of wonder and delight.

The king took up the sheet, and having looked first at the paper, and then at the types, with attentive admiration, handed it to one of his chiefs, and expressed a wish to take another. He printed two more; and while he was so engaged, the first sheet was shown to the crowd without, who, when they saw it, raised a general shout of astonishment and joy. When the king had printed three or four sheets, he examined the press in all its parts with great care, and remained attentively watching and admiring the facility with which, by its mechanism, so many pages were printed at one time, until it was near sunset, when he left us, taking with him the sheets he had printed to his encampment on the opposite side of the bay.'

An edition of 2600 copies of this spelling-book, and another of 2300 of a catechism and collection of texts, were rapidly printed and circulated among the natives, several of whom had been instructed so far as to be able to perform the more laborious part of the presswork. By the middle of 1818, 3000 copies of the Gospel of St Luke were printed, entitled, Te Evanelia na Luka, iritihia ei parau Tahiti;' literally, The Gospel of Luke, taken out to be the language of Tahiti;' with the imprint, Nenheihia i te nenei raa parau a te mau Misionari,' 1818. Pressed at the (paper or book) presser of the Missionaries.'

The sensation created in the vicinity of the printing establishment spread over the whole island; chiefs and people crowded the office daily. The press soon became a matter of universal conversation; and the facility with which books could be multiplied filled the minds of the people in general with wonderful delight. Multitudes arrived from every district of Eimea, and even from other islands, to procure books, and to see this astonishing machine. The excitement manifested frequently resembled that with which the people of England would hasten to witness, for the first time, the ascent of a balloon, or the movement of a steam-carriage. So great was the influx of strangers, that for several

weeks before the first portion of the Scriptures was finished, the district of Afareaitu resembled a public fair.'

Canoes came from distant islands, bringing cocoa-nut oil in exchange for books: on one occasion, a party who arrived late in the evening slept on the ground all night, rather than miss the chance of the first supply in the morning. But the books, to be really useful, required binding; and leather being scarce on the island, the supply was economised to the utmost. A copy halfbound in red morocco was sent to the king; the boards were formed of native cloth, made of the bark of a tree beaten together: these were, in numerous instances, covered with pieces of old newspapers, dyed purple with the juice of a species of mountain plantain. The natives learned to bind, some in thin wood; and all the animals were hunted to procure skins; dogs and cats, every creature that had hitherto lived unmolested, was killed, and the novel sight of skins hung out to dry at the door of the huts was seen throughout the island. Such was the desire to possess books, that, the narrator pursues, I have frequently seen thirty or forty canoes, from distant parts of Eimea, or from some other island, lying along the beach; in each of which five or six persons had arrived, whose only errand was to procure copies of the Scriptures. For these many waited five or six weeks, while they were printing. Sometimes I have seen a canoe arrive with six or ten persons for books; who, when they have landed, have brought a large bundle of letters, perhaps thirty or forty, written on plantain leaves, and rolled up like a scroll. These letters have been written by individuals who were unable to come and apply personally for a book, and had therefore thus sent in order to procure a copy.'

Details thus minute of the first printing and diffusion of books in the cities and towns of Germany, and other places on the continent, would now be regarded with high interest. None, unfortunately, have come down to us, and we can only speculate as regards the popular feeling on the first promulgation of an art whose design was, in the language of Davy, 'for perpetuating thought in imperishable words, rendering immortal the exertions of genius, and presenting them as common property to all awakening minds-becoming, as it were, the true image of divine intelligence, receiving and bestowing the breath of life in the influence of civilisation.'

THE PLEASURES OF POVERTY. No! reader, no! I am not a satirical fellow, about to launch poisonous words of unfeeling levity at those who are victims to the tyranny of that cruel dame; neither am I a Stoic, and desirous of proving that the absence of pleasure is as good as its presence. In no way do I wish to make the worse appear the better reason;' but I should like to prove, if possible, that there is some reason in these words, The pleasures of poverty.' I have some title to be heard on this subject, my dear reader, for (entre nous) I am, and have always been, as poor as a church mouse; and therefore you may be sure that what I am about to offer to your attention is no pretty piece of speculation, or imaginary theory, formed without the slightest knowledge of the facts.