her career, when all at once the male rushed forth with the utmost fury from his hiding place, and, with a shrill and frightful scream, like the loud sound of a trumpet, charged down upon the huntsmen. So terrific was the animal's aspect that all instinctively sprung to their horses, and fled for life. The elephant, disregarding the others, singled out an unfortunate man, Cobus Klopper, who was the last person that had fired upon its comrade, and who was standing with his horse's bridle over his arm, reloading his huge gun, at the moment when the infuriated animal burst from the wood. Cobus also leaped hastily on horseback, but before he could seat himself in his saddle, the elephant was upon him. One blow from his proboscis struck poor Cobus to the earth; and, without troubling himself about the horse, which gallopped off in terror, he thrust his gigantic tusks through the man's body, and then, after stamping it flat with his pondrous feet, again seized it with his trunk, and flung it high into the air. Having thus wreaked vengeance upon his foes, he walked gently up to his consort, and affectionately caressing her, supported her wounded side with his shoulder, and regardless of the volleys of balls with which the hunters, who had again rallied to the conflict, assailed them, he succeeded in conveying her from their reach into the impenetrable recesses of the forest.

THE SKUNK.-This curious animal is an inhabitant of Peru, and is found as far as Canada, in North America. It is about the size of a cat, and is remarkable for emitting a suffocating vapour, when attacked or pursued. This effluvia is so strong that clothes infected by it are said to retain it several days. Dogs that are not properly trained are so affected by the smell that they abandon their pursuit; and even those who persevere in the chase are obliged to relieve themselves by thrusting their nose in the fresh soil, whenever they have slain their object. The flesh is said to resemble that of a young pig, and is eaten by some of the Indians.

JAMES THE FIFTH'S VISIT TO ANNANDALE.

A TRADITIONARY STORY.

"He is a king,

A true right king, who dares do aught save wrong."

Marston.

The predatory incursions of the Scots and English borderers, on each other's territories, are known to every one in the least acquainted with either the written or traditional history of his country. These were sometimes made by armed and numerous bodies, and it was not uncommon for a band of marauders to take the advantage of a thick fog or a dark night for plundering or driving away the cattle, with which they soon escaped over the border, where they were generally secure. These incursions were so frequent and distressing to the peaceable and well-disposed inhabitants, that they complained loudly to their respective governments; in con sequence of which some one of the powerful nobles residing on the borders was invested with authority to suppress these depredations, under the title of Warden of the Marches. His duty was to protect the frontier, and alarm the country by firing the beacons, which were placed on the heights, where they could be seen at a great distance, as a warning to the people to drive away their cattle, and collecting in a body either to repel or pursue the invaders, as circumstances might require. The Wardens also possessed a discretionary power in such matters as came under their jurisdiction. The proper discharge of this important trust required vigilance, courage, and fidelity; but it was sometimes committed to improper hands, and consequently the duty was very imperfectly performed.

In the reign of James V. one of these wardens was Sir John Charteris of Amisfield, near Dumfries, a brave but baughty man, who sometimes forgot his important trust so far as to sacrifice his public duties to his private interests.

George Maxwell was a young and respectable farmer in Annandale, who had frequently been active in repressing the petty incursions to which that quarter of the country was exposed. Having thereby rendered himself particularly obnoxious to the English borderers, a strong party was formed,

which succeeded in despoiling him, by plundering his house and driving away his whole live stock. At the head of a large party, he pursued and overtook "the spoil-encumbered foe;" a fierce and bloody contest ensued, in which George fell the victim of a former feud, leaving his widow, Marion Johnstone, in poverty, with her son Wallace, an only child, in the tenth year of his age. By the liberality of her neighbours, the widow was replaced in a small farm; but by subsequent incursions she was reduced to such poverty that she occupied a small cottage, with a cow, which the kindness of a neighbouring farmer permitted to pasture on his fields. This, with the industry and filia! affection of her son, now in his twentieth year, enabled her to live with a degree of comfort and contented resignation.

With a manly and athletic form, Wallace Maxwell inherited the courage of his father, and the patriotic ardour of the chieftain after whom he had been named: and Wallace had been heard to declare, that although he could not expect to free his country from the incursions of the English borderers, be trusted he should yet be able to take ample vengeance for the untimely death of his father.

Although his own private wrongs and those of his country had a powerful influence on the mind of Wallace Maxwell, his heart was keenly susceptible of a far loftier passion.

His fine manly form and graceful air had attractions for many a rural fair; and he would have found no difficulty in matching with youthful beauty, considerably above his own humble station. But his affections were fixed on Mary Morrison, a maiden as poor in worldly wealth as himself; but nature had been more than usually indulgent to her in a handsome person and fine features; and what was of infinitely more value, her heart was imbued with virtuous principles, and her mind better cultivated than could have been expected from her station in life; to these accomplishments were superadded a native dignity, tempered with modesty, and a most winning sweetness of manner. Mary was the daughter of a man who had seen better days, but he was ruined by the incursions of English Borderers; and both he and her mother dying soon after, Mary was left a helpless orphan in the twentieth year of her age. Her beauty procured her many admirers; and her unprotected state, for she

had no relations in Annandale, left her exposed to the insidious temptations of unprincipled villany; but they soon discovered, that neither flattery, bribes, nor the fairest promises, had the slightest influence on her spotless mind. There were many, however, who sincerely loved her, and made most honourable proposals, among whom was Wallace Maxwell, perhaps the poorest of her admirers, but who succeeded in gaining her esteem and affection. Mary and he were fellow-servants to the farmer from whom his mother had her cottage; and on account of the troublesome state of the country, Wallace slept every night in his mother's house as her guardian and protector. Mary and he were about the same age, both in the bloom of youthful beauty; but both had discrimination to look beyond external attractions; and although they might be said to live in the light of each other's eyes, reason convinced them that the time was yet distant when it would be prudent to consummate that union which was the dearest object of their wishes,

A foray had been made by the English, in which their leader, the son of a rich borderer, had been made prisoner, and a heavy ransom paid to Sir John the warden for his release. This the avaricious warden considered a perquisite of his office, and it accordingly went to his private pocket. Scon after this, the party who had resolved on ruining Wallace Maxwell for his threats of vengeance, took the advantage of a thick fog, during the day, succeeded by a dark night, in making an incursion on Annandale, principally for the purpose of capturing the young man. By stratagem they effected their purpose, and the widow's cow and Wallace her son were both carried off as part of the spoil. The youth's life might have been in considerable danger, had his capture not been discovered by the man who had recently paid a high ransom for his own son, and he now took instant possession of Wallace, resolving that he should be kept a close prisoner, till ransomed by a sum equal to that paid to the Warden.

It would be difficult, if not impossible, to say, whether the grief of Marion Johnstone for her son, or that of Mary Morrison for her lover was greatest. But early in the ensuing morning the widow repaired to Amisfied, related the circumstance to Sir John, with tears beseeching him, as the