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its glorious river; and now of a still shadier hermitage in the vale of Neath ; where he might pursue his history, learn Welsh, keep an otter, and teach him to catch à trout for dinner.

I will have (he told his friend, Mr. Bedford,) a toad to catch flies, and it shall be made murder to kill a spider in my domains; then, when you come to visit me, you will see puss on one side, and the otter on the other, both looking for bread and milk, and Margery in her little great chair, and the toad upon the tea-table, and the snake twisting up the leg of the table to look for his share.

But a dispute with a Cambrian landlord about the repairs of a kitchen, dissolved this agreeable dream of a happy family, and the death of his little girl put an end to his doubts about a residence. Bristol was full of painful recollections, and Coleridge was still living at Keswick. Thither he went :

Would that you could see (he wrote to his brother) these lakes and mountains, how wonderful they are ! how awful in their beauty! All the poet part of me will be fed and fostered here. I feel already in tune.

He had now lived thirty years, and supposed himself to be growing old :

Not so much by the family Bible, as by all external and outward symptoms. The grey hairs have made their appearance; my eyes are wearing out; my shoes, the very cut of my father's, at which I used to laugh ; my limbs not so supple as they were at Brixton in '93 ; my tongue not so glib; my heart quieter; my hopes, thoughts, and feelings all of the complexion of a sunny autumn evening.

In a letter of nearly the same date, to Mr. Duppa, we stumble upon a pleasant allusion to Hazlitt, who had dropped for a few days into the Lake country, and having painted Coleridge for Sir George Beaumont, was emboldened to try his hand on Wordsworth. The portrait was so dismal, that one of the poet's friends, on looking at it, exclaimed, 'At the gallows, deeply affected by his deserved fate, yet determined to die like a man. Southey returns more than once to the salutary effects of the scenery upon his mind, and speaks of the best seasons for visiting it ; adding, with great beauty of thought, that in settled fine weather there are none of those goings on in heaven,


which at other times give these scenes such an endless variety. He had not, however, become accustomed to the stern severity of that hilly and tempestuous climate; he thought the white bear had one advantage over a mountain resident, and would gladly have rolled himself up until the end of October, leaving particular directions to be called early on the 1st of May, We have been greatly delighted with one picture which he gives Mr. Bedford ; and remember no prose description that surpasses it, unless it be Gray's charming account of sunrise at Southampton:

I have seen a sight, more dreamy and wonderful than any scenery that Fancy ever yet devised for Faëry-land. We had walked down to the lake side ; it was a delightful day ; the sun shining, and a few white clouds hanging motionless in the sky. The opposite shore of Derwentwater consists of one long mountain, which suddenly terminates in an arch, thus , and through that opening you see a long valley between mountains, and bounded by mountain beyond mountain ; to the right of the arch the heights are more varied and of greater elevation. Now, as there was not a breath of air stirring, the surface of the lake was so perfectly still that it became one great mirror, and all its waters disappeared ; the whole line of shore was represented as vividly and steadily as it existed in its actual being – the arch, the vale within, the single houses far within the vale, the smoke from their chimneys, the farthest hills, and the shadow and substance joined at their bases so indivisibly, that you could make no separation even in your judgment. As I stood on the shore, heaven and the clouds seemed lying under me.

I was looking down into the sky, and the whole range of mountains, having one line of summits under my feet, and another above me, seemed to be suspended between the firmaments. Shut your eyes, and dream of a scene so unnatural and so beautiful. What I have said is most strictly and scrupulously true; but it was one of those happy moments that can seldom occur, for the least breath stirring would have shaken the whole vision, and at once unrealized it. I have before seen a partial appearance, but never before did, and perhaps never again may, lose sight of the lake entirely; for it literally seemed like an abyss of sky before me, not fog and clouds from a mountain, but the blue heaven spotted with a few fleecy pillows of cloud, that looked as if placed there for angels to rest upon them.-P. 259.

· Homed and housed' at Keswick, Coriolanus, not Macbeth and the Temthe poet lived in a sort of domestic pest. The story wants unity, and has, solitude; working upon reviews and perhaps, too Greek, too stoical, a want graver themes, which he variegated

of passion ; but as far as I can see, with with occasional glasses of port wine,

the same eyes wherewith I read Homer,

and Shakespear, and Milton, it is a good and glimpses of the view before his window.

poem, and must live.' Ile pourtrays himself with quite a Montaigne simplicity Perhaps all works — whether of and liveliness. We see him bending the pen, the pencil

, or the chisel — over his desk, in the large odd require patient scrutiny, in proporlooking study, dressed in long worsted tion to the delicate harmony of their pantaloons and gaiters, and with a composition. A glance of the eye green shade to protect his eyes. The takes in Tintoret; but a whole day cat, having soon found his room the scarcely unfolds the grace of Raffaelle. quietest in the house, gives him her Sir Walter Scott assured Southey constant company, and sits by his that he had read Madoc three times, side, and purrs with almost as much and with an increasing sense of its melody and rhythm as many lines in merits. We are, nevertheless, unKchama. He had formed a canine, willing to admit the high panegyric as well as a feline acquaintanceship. bestowed on the poem by its author. Poets, from Pope and Shenstone to Taking occasion to mention William Cowper and Miss Mitford, have re Taylor's opinion, that the press had joiced in dogs. Southey had one, a sent out no production equal to Madoc well-bred hound, Dapper by name; since Paradise Lost, Southey adds,affectionate, but a coward. Of deti • Indeed this is not exaggerated ciency in courage some convincing praise, for unfortunately there is no illustrations are recorded. A por- competition.' This was a bold saycine apparition shook Dapper's

shook Dapper's ing; and bolder than it was wise. nerves for the day. But other In that long interval of more than qualities over balanced the defect. one hundred and thirty years, our And now the poet closes his book, Poetry was enriched with contribuand sauntering down to the river tions which will be treasured for all (Dapper at liis heels) which runs at time. Milton himself had built a the bottom of the orchard, he throws wing to his splendid palace of song; instones until his armis ache. Not a ferior in its architecture, and less sumpthought of history or drudging goes tuously furnished ; but still of grand with him. He confessed that he design and beautiful execution. Drynever got into any regular train of den had written his exquisite Fables; thought, unless the pen was in his Pope had in one piece displayed the hand. The shade of orchard - trees lustrous gaiety of Ariosto, with was for poetry and Madoc.

chaster graces of fancy and taste; This great opus, of which number Thomson had dipped his language in less intimations meet the reader of the lights of the rainbow, Young the Correspondence, at length reached had shed abroad the full wisdom of Keswick in its presentable shape; his most thoughtful mind; and a beautiful book in quarto, very Akenside had revived among us the dear, and having «Snowdon 'spelt fading bloom of classic colour and wrong throughout. 'I cannot belp outline. feeling,' he wrote, “that the poem Our remarks upon these volumes looks like the work of an older man; have been, of necessity, too rapid, to that all its lights are evening sun permit of any close or chronological shine.' Madoc did very well; half arrangement. With so large a tract of the edition having been exhausted to fly over, we have been obliged to in three months. Although late in keep almost constantly upon the appearance, it had been among the wing. Dropping down now and earliest of his poetical visions, and he then

among the corn, we have found entertained the most confident hopes a few ears to carry away. To some of its lasting fame. He knew its of the literary notices which are execution to be the finest he had scattered through the poet's letters, produced.

reference has already been made. Compare it (he said) with the Odyssey,

Towards the end of this second not with the Iliad ; with King John and volume we meet with two or three

slight sketches, which are not with tracked the Last Minstrel through out interest. Mrs. Bare-bald (as he his pleasant haunts, and even took named the ingenious lady of Evenings spear in hand against the salmon. at Home) had said something uncivil The Scottish men of letters did not of Lamb, whom he wished to 'singe surprise him; he considered them to her flaxen wig with squibs.' Of be fairly represented by the dimiColeridge he observes, ‘His mind is nutive literatuli. But the country in a perpetual St. Vitus' Dance, he thought charming - Teviotdale, eternal activity without action :' a the Yarrow, the Tweed, and romost penetrating and happy criticism, mantic Melrose, won his praise. which Coleridge unconsciously con For Presbyterianism, with its twang firms in the Prospectus of The and its frost, he had no sympathy. Friend, when he says :-'I am in He returned to Keswick while the clined to believe that this want of news of Nelson's death was bursting, perseverance has been produced in in thunder, over England. He the main by an over-activity of thought, wrote to Mr. Bedford, “What a modified by a constitutional indo death is Nelson's ! It seems to me lence. We might enlarge these one of the characteristics of the sublittle sketches from a visit which lime, that its whole force is never Southey made to London in the perceived at once. The more it is summer of 1804. He dined with contemplated, the deeper is its effect. Sotheby, the translator of Oberon, When this war began I began an whoin he liked; and met Price, 'the ode, which almost I feel now dispicturesque man, and Davies Giddy, posed to complete.' And to his whose face he declared 'ought to be brother, “You will have heard of perpetuated in marble for the honour Nelson's most glorious death. He of mathematics. In the autumn of leaves a name above all former the following year he went to Edin admirals. A volume, or an article, burgh, in the company of Peter could not have a better conclusion. Elmsley, and passed a few days with Southey did something more for Walter Scott at Ashestiel.

Nelson than completing the ode.





PART II. Twas a gentle, wooded slope, on scarlet and yellow leaves appear

amidst the green foliage, that they Brunswick. An open space broke seemed to have been stained artifithe dense forest-verdure which man cially with those bright colours. tled the whole land with undulating An Indian song said that the Great plumes ; and in this isolated patch of Spirit painted them in the night for clearing was placed a cluster of wig a sign; and that when the tribes wams, formed of birch-bark, their looked upon them they heard his white cones half hidden in an under. voice, saying, “Make ready for the growth of young cedars and willows; hunt, my children. The leaves are and giving forth, many of them, a thin done growing, the frost-season is at stream of smoke that lingered in its hand. Make ready the shank-moascent through the trees of the sur cassins and snow-shoes, the summerrounding groves.

time is done.' On one side, like a boundless prairie, This was an encampment of Rispread the Gulf of St. Lawrence, un chibucto Indians, a branch of the broken by an island or a wave until Micmac tribe, whose chief resort was it blended with the blue sky that the peninsula of Nova Scotia, or curved serenely over it, in a trans Acadia ; and in one of the bark tents, lucent dome.

and seated cross-legged on the firThe leaves of the ash and maple boughs, were two men conversing were beginning to assume their au in Canadian patois, which was well tumnal hues, though as yet this was known to the natives. One was a the only indication of a change in Frenchman, short, thin-faced, and the season; and so fantastic did their slouching, in a surtout of blue cloth,

a red sash and cap, and fringed leggings of elk-skin ; the other an Indian, dressed in a loose buckskin tunic, tall, and somewhat aged, but erect and stately as a red pine, with a grave face and shaven to the



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See !' said the fur-trader, for such the Frenchman was, drawing a bottle from the bosom of his coat and presenting it to his companion, Ma-duxkees loves the pouk tou-witchk (firewater). Saccapee has brought this to him from Quebec, to let him see he is his friend. My brother is a Micmac, the Micmacs are a brave people. Is it not so ?'

• The Micmacs are brave,' was the calm reply. 'My brother is generous to-day. Ma-dux-kees is not a Micmac, and he loves not the strong whisky of the Awanooch (French). It is the medicine of a fool.'

• What!' exclaimed the other, with surprise, does my brother disdain the gift? There is not one of his tribe who would get it for less than a beaver-skin, and I offer it to him for nothing.'

• The Pale-face is generous to-day,' returned the Indian.

• Ma-dux-kces is a Milicetejek, and drinks water from the brook when he is thirsty: the Great Spirit gives him that also for nothing.'

The trader gave a shrug, replaced the bottle in his breast, lit his pipe and smoked in silence. At length he said,

Little Moon is absent from my brother's wigwam, therefore Saccapee will open his heart to him. lle has an idea. He is rich, but he is alone. Now let Ma-dux-kees give him his daughter for a wife, and he will fill his horn with powder many times. He will even make him the wealthiest of his people. What more can he say? He has a fancy for the young squaw.'

A shade settled on the Indian's brow, and he folded his arms.

• The son of the Awanooch asked Little Moon herself, and she said No. Why does he come a second time to make a talk about her? Ma-duxkees does not want for anything, neither can he give away what is not his. Little Moon is the child of a strange father : it is enough!'

The Frenchman muttered a curse between his teeth and rose to depart.

I see how it is,' he observed, in a jeering tone, 'the Milicetes let their women talk with white men who are richer than Saccapee. He can tell that by looking at Little Moon's eyes.'

In a moment the Indian was on his feet, his knife out and brandished over the head of the offender; but, checking his anger suddenly by a powerful effort of will, the fierceness vanished from his countenance and the weapon was returned to its sheath.

Go, dog !' he said, with a look of stern contempt; 'the Milicete kill not those who have smoked peace in their wigwams. They trample their poison-words in the ground.'

Smarting under this reproof, and enraged at the rejection of his suit, the Canadian betook himself to his own camp, situated on the margin of the sea; and ere he reached it he had sworn to be revenged.

Shortly after this, two females joined the Indian. One of these was his wife, a wrinkled but mild-faced squaw, the daughter of the chief of the band; the other was she who formed the subject of the foregoing altercation.

She was a beautiful girl, in the first flower of womanhood ; tall, wellformed, and graceful, with a florid tinge in her cheeks, which were as smooth and mellow as a hazel-nut, but of a richer hue. Below the embroidered lappets of her pointed hood her dark hair descended in waving and silky folds, which were gathered at the ends in a knot of scarlet riband, and her eyes were a deep blue.

My child,' said Ma-dux-kees, in his own language, speaking in soft and endearing accents, as the girl seated herself beside him, “beware of Saccapee. He has been talking to me about you; and when I refused him, he spoke bad words. There are black thoughts in his heart, so have a care.'

• Did he dare do so, father?' asked Little Moon, with a heightened colour, opening her blue eyes wide upon Ma-dux-kees. • But what does it signify?' she added, laughing gaily. • The poor Awanooch is lonesome, and wants some one to look after his beaver-skins. I bear him no malice, though he is crooked in his ways.'

“He shall never show his mocassin in this wigwam again!' exclaimed the elder squaw in a passion.

. If he does, I will throw a fire-brand was stabbed to the heart and scalped at him, the skulking weazel! He is with his own knife by the hand of always vexing us about Little Moon.

' A-moos-kook (the Clear Day), who Never mind, Sau-pa-lose,' ob had broken his bonds, overpowered served her spouse, composedly ; ' let the Mohawk, and liberated his felthe Pale-face be, only keep your eyes low-prisoner. sharp that no danger lurk near the Away through swamps and thickets, child, for there is deceitfulness in his and over rivers and hills they fled, heart.'

that solitary pair. But Little Moon The Indian was correct in his sur had no fear, for A-moos-kook was mise. A fortnight afterwards, while her friend, and a man of the nicest on its way to the Bay des Chaleurs, honour. On the third day they the band was entrapped into an am overtook the remnant of the stricken bushment of Mohawks, who, being band, who had regained their canoes secreted in a narrow defile, fell upon and descended to the coasts of the the Micmacs so suddenly, that the sea, and with them were the parents latter were defeated with great loss, of Little Moon. and took to flight, leaving two of 'I have brought the light back to their number alive in the hands of the wigwam of Ma-dux-kees,' said their hereditary foe.

the Clear Day; and he departed at One of these was a young warrior once for a distant village of his naof note; the other, the beautiful tion on the isthmus of Acadia. squaw who passed for the daughter It was some time before the young of Ma-dux-kees, the Milicete; and maiden recovered from that forced her captor was no other than Sacca journey, and Sau-pa-lose remarked pee the trader, who had insinuated that she laughed less than formerly, himself into the good graces of the and was often buried in thought. Mohawks, set them on the watch for The Micmacs, after coasting the Micmac party, and disguised through the grand Lagoons of Trahimself with war paint, to preserve cadie and Tabasintac, ascended the his incognito from his quondam as Miramichi, and dividing into small sociates, while engaged in his trea parties, followed separately the nucherous design.

merous branches of that river to • Little Moon will not look scorn. select hunting stations for the winter. fully now on Saccapee,' said the The family of the Milicete proceeded trader, with a scowl. She will be alone, and penetrated, in their little glad very soon to draw water and craft, to the foot of some mountains, eut sticks for his fire. He will soon where Ma-dux-kees built a snug tame down the daughter of that old cabin of pine-logs, and prepared his fool, Ma-dux-kees.

traps and hunting gear before the The captive trembled. She was falling of the snow. bound hand and foot and in the power It was a long and severe winter; of her rejected suitor ; none were so long, indeed, that it seemed as if near her but enemies, and darkness spring would never return, and that was gathering in the woods : yet she the earth would remain for ever was not as friendless as she seemed. hidden under the snow. The moon In the still midnight a sharp blade in which sugar is made from the severed the withes that fastened her maple-tree had arrived; but, though limbs together, and in an instant she Ma-dux-kees placed his bark vessels was free. The figure of a man bent under each trunk, and stuck a little over her; he turned with a quick spout into it, in readiness to collect gesture-quick as thought-and she the sap, not a drop would run-it beheld in the star-light the face of was still frozen up at the roots of the the Micmac prisoner, The girl un tree. Moreover, the game grew scarce, derstood his signs, and, stepping noise for the country was infested with lessly after him, passed like a shadow ravenous wolves that had driven the across the sleeping warriors and away deer from their "yards,’ upon which into the forest.

the Indian relied for his spring supply. Where was the sentinel ? Lying • By the blessed hunters of Chiwith the rest, but not asleep, for he ba-a-ki,'* said the Indian, after a

* The Land of Spirits.

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