CLERICAL IGNORANCE.

FOREIGN writers have been amused with the information, that many of the Scottish clergy affirmed, about the period of the Reformation, that Martin Luther had lately composed a book called the New Testament; but that they, for their part, would adhere to the Old Testament. Ignorant, however, as were the Scottish clergy, they were not more illiterate than many on the Continent. A foreign monk declaiming one day in the pulpit against Lutherans and Zuinglians, said to his audience, "A new language was invented some time ago, called Greek, which has been the mother of all these heresies. A book is printed in this language, called the New Testament, which contains many dangerous things. Another language is now forming, the Hebrew: whoever learns it, immediately becomes a Jew." No wonder, after this, that the Commissioners of the Senate of Lucerne should have confiscated the works of Aristotle, Plato, and some of the Greek poets, which they found in the library of Zuinglius, concluding that every book printed in that language must be infected with Lutheranism. M'Crie's Life of John Knox.

THE INDIAN WIFE.

TAHMIROO was the daughter of a powerful Sioux chieftain; and she was the only being ever known to turn the relentless old man from a savage purpose. Something of this influence was owing to her infantile beauty, but more to the gentleness of which that beauty was the emblem. Hers was a species of loveliness rare among Indian girls. Her figure had the flexile grace so appropriate to protected and dependent woman in refined countries; her ripe pouting lip and dimpled cheek wore the pleading air of aggrieved childhood; and her dark eye had such an habitual expression of timidity and fear, that the young Sioux called her the "Startled Fawn."

I know not whether her father's broad lands, or her own appealing beauty, was the most powerful cause of admiration; but certain it is Tahmiroo was the unrivalled belle of the Sioux. She was a creature all formed for love. Her downcast eye, her trembling lip, and her quiet submissive motion-all spoke its language; yet various young chieftains had in vain sought her affections; and when her father urged her to strengthen his power by an alliance, she answered him only by her tears.

This state of things continued until 1765, when a company of French traders came to reside there, for the sake of deriving profit from the fur trade. Among them was Florimond de Rancé, a young indolent Adonis, whom pure ennui had led from Quebec to the Falls of St. Anthony. His fair round face, and studied foppery of dress, might have done little toward gaining the heart of the gentle Sioux; but there was a deference and courtesy in his manner which the Indian never pays to degraded woman, and Tahmiroo's deep sensibilities were touched by it. A more careful arrangement of her rude dress, an anxiety to speak his language fluently, and a close observance of European customs, soon betrayed the subtle power which was fast making her its slave. The ready vanity of the Frenchman quickly perceived it. At first he encouraged it with that sort of undefined pleasure which man always feels in awakening strong affection in the hearts of even the most insignificant. Then the idea that, though an Indian, she was a princess, and that her father's extensive lands on the Missouri were daily becoming of more and more consequence to his ambitious nation, led him to think of marriage with her as a desirable object. His eyes and his manner had said this long before the old chief began to suspect it; and he allowed the wily Frenchman to twine himself almost as closely round his heart as he had around the more yielding soul of his darling child.

Though exceedingly indolent by nature, Florimond de Rancé had acquired skill in many graceful arts, which excited the wonder of the savages. He fenced well enough to foil the most expert antagonist; and in hunting, his rifle was sure to carry death to the game. These accomplishments, and the facility with which his pliant nation conform to the usages of savage life, made | him a universal favourite; and, at his request, he was formally adopted as one of the tribe. But, conscious as he was of his

power, it was long before he dared to ask for the daughter of the haughty chief. When he did make the daring proposition, it was received with a still and terrible wrath, that might well frighten him from his purpose. Rage showed itself only in the swelling veins and clenched hand of the old chief. With the boasted coldness and self-possession of an Indian, he answered, Sioux girls enough for the poor pale faces that come among us. A king's daughter weds the son of a king. Eagles must sleep in an eagle's nest."

"There are

The

In vain Tahmiroo knelt and supplicated. In vain she promised that Florimond de Rancé would adopt all his enmities and all his friendships; that in hunting and in war he would be an invaluable treasure. The chief remained inexorable. Then Tahmiroo no longer joined in the dance, and the old man noticed that her rich voice was silent when they passed her wigwam. The light of her beauty began to fade, and the bright vermilion current, which mantled under her brown cheek, became sluggish and pale. The languid glance she cast on the morning sun and the bright earth entered into her father's soul. He could not see his beautiful child thus gradually wasting away. He had long averted his eyes whenever he saw Florimond de Rancé, but one day, when he crossed his hunting-path, he laid his hand on his shoulder, and pointed to Tahmiroo's dwelling. Not a word was spoken. proud old man and the blooming lover entered it together. Tahmiroo was seated in the darkest corner of the wigwam, her head leaning on her hand, her basket-work tangled beside her, and a bunch of flowers the village maidens had brought her scattered and withering at her feet. The chief looked upon her with a vehement expression of love, which none but stern countenances can wear. "Tahmiroo," he said, in a subdued tone, " go to the wigwam of the stranger, that your father may again see you love to look on the rising sun and the opening flowers." There was mingled joy and modesty in the upward glance of the "Startled Fawn" of the Sioux; and when Florimond de Rancé saw the light of her mild eye, suddenly and timidly veiled by its deeply-fringed lid, he knew that he had lost none of his power.

The marriage song was soon heard in the royal wigwam, and the young adventurer became the son of a king.

Months and years passed on, and found Tahmiroo the same devoted submissive being. Her husband no longer treated her with the uniform gallantry of a lover. He was not often harsh; but he adopted something of the coldness and indifference of the nation he had joined. Tahmiroo sometimes wept in secret; but so much of fear had lately mingled with her love, that she carefully concealed her grief from him who had occasioned it. When she watched his countenance with that pleading innocent look which had always characterised her beauty, she sometimes would obtain a glance such as he had given her in former days, and then her heart would leap like a frolicsome lamb, and she would live cheerfully on the remembrance of that smile through many wearisome days of silence and neglect. Never was woman, in her heartbreaking devotedness, satisfied with such slight testimonials of love as was this gentle Sioux girl. If Florimond chose to fish, she would herself ply the oars rather than he should suffer fatigue; and the gaudy canoe her father had given her, might often be seen gliding down the stream, while Tahmiroo dipped her oars in unison with her soft rich voice, and the indolent Frenchman lay sunk in luxurious repose. She had learned his religion-but for herself she never prayed. The cross he had given her was always raised in supplication for him; and if he but looked unkindly on her, she kissed it, and invoked its aid in agony of soul. fancied the sounds of his native land might be dear to him, and she studied his language with a patience and perseverance to which the savage has seldom been known to submit. She tried to imitate the dresses she had heard him describe; and if he looked with a pleased eye on any ornament she wore, it was always reserved to welcome his return. Yet, for all this lavishness of love, she asked but kind approving looks, which cost the giver nothing. Alas, for the perverseness of man in scorning the affection he ceases to doubt! The little pittance of love for which poor Tahmiroo's

She

heart yearned so much was seldom given. Her soul was a perpetual prey to anxiety and excitement; and the quiet certainty of domestic bliss was never her allotted portion. There were, however, two beings on whom she could pour forth her whole flood of tenderness without reproof or disappointment. She had given birth to a son and daughter, of uncommon promise. Victoire, the eldest, had her father's beauty, save in the melting dark eye, with its plaintive expression, and the modest drooping of its silken lash. Her cheeks had just enough of the Indian hue to give them a warm rich colouring; and such was her early maturity, that, at thirteen years of age, her tall figure combined the graceful elasticity of youth with the staid majesty of womanhood. She had sprung up at her father's feet with the sudden luxuriance of a tropical flower; and her matured loveliness aroused all the dormant tenderness and energy within him. It was with mournful interest he saw her leaping along the chase, with her mother's bounding sylph-like joy; and he would sigh deeply when he observed her oar rapidly cutting the waters of the Missouri, while her boat flew over the surface of the river like a wild bird in sport-and the gay young creature would wind round among the eddies, or dart forward, with her hair streaming on the wind, and her lips parted with eagerness. Tahmiroo did not understand the nature of his emotions. She thought, in the simplicity of her heart, that silence and sadness were the natural expressions of a white man's love; but when he turned his restless gaze from his daughter to her, she met an expression which troubled her. Indifference had changed into contempt; and woman's soul, whether in the drawing-room or the wilderness, is painfully alive to the sting of scorn. Sometimes her placid nature was disturbed by a strange jealousy of her own child. "I love Victoire only because she is the daughter of Florimond," thought she; "why, oh! why does he not love me for being the mother of Victoire?"

It was too evident that de Rancé wished his daughter should be estranged from her mother, and her mother's people. With all members of the tribe, out of his own family, he sternly forbade her having any intercourse; and even there he kept her constantly employed in taking dancing lessons from himself, and obtaining various branches of learning from an old Catholic priest, whom he had solicited to reside with him for that purpose. But this kind of life was irksome to the Indian girl, and she was perpetually escaping the vigilance of her father to try her arrows in the woods, or guide her pretty canoe over the waters. De Rancé had long thought it impossible to gratify his ambitious views for his daughter without removing her from the attraction of her savage home, and each day's experience convinced him more and more of the truth of this conclusion.

To favour his project, he assumed an affectionate manner to wards his wife; for he well knew that one look or word of kindness would, at any time, win back all her love. When the deep sensibilities of her warm heart were roused, he would ask for leave to sell her lands; and she, in her prodigality of tenderness, would have given him anything, even her own life, for such smiles as he then bestowed. The old chief was dead, and there was no one to check the unfeeling rapacity of the Frenchman. Tracts after tracts of Tahmiroo's valuable land were sold, and the money remitted to Quebec, whither he had the purpose of conveying his children on the pretence of a visit, but, in reality, with the firm intent of never again beholding his deserted wife.

A company of Canadian traders happened to visit the Falls of St. Anthony just at this juncture, and Florimond de Rancé took the opportunity to apprise Tahmiroo of his intention to educate Victoire at one of the convents in Quebec. The Sioux pleaded with all the earnestness of a mother's eloquence-but she pleaded in vain. Victoire and her father joined the company of traders on their return to Canada. Tahmiroo knelt and fervently besought that she might accompany them. She would stay out of sight, she said; they should not be ashamed of her among the great white folks at the east ; and if she could but live where she could see them every day, she should die happier.

exclaimed Victoire proudly, and, with a natural impulse of tenderness, fell on her mother's neck and wept.

66

Victoire, 'tis time to depart!" said her father sternly. The sobbing girl tried to release herself, but she could not. Tahmiroo embraced her with an energy of despair; for, after all her doubts and jealousies, Victoire was the darling child of her bosom-she was so much the image of Florimond when he first said he loved her. "Woman! let her go!" exclaimed De Rancé, exasperated by the length of the parting scene. Tahmiroo raised her eyes anxiously to his face, and she saw that his arm was raised to strike her. 'I am a poor daughter of the Sioux; oh! why did you marry me?" exclaimed she, in a tone of passionate grief.

"For your father's lands," said the Frenchman coldly. This was the drop too much. Poor Tahmiroo, with a piercing shriek, fell on the earth, and hid her face in the grass. She knew not how long she remained there. Her highly-wrought feelings had brought on a dizziness of the brain, and she was conscious only of a sensation of sickness, accompanied by the sound of receding voices. When she recovered, she found herself alone with Louis, her little boy, then about six years old. The child had wandered there, after the traders had departed, and having in vain tried to waken his mother, he laid himself down at her side, and slept on his bow and arrows. From that hour Tahmiroo was changed. Her quiet submissive air gave place to a stern and lofty manner; and she, who had always been so gentle, became as bitter and implacable as the most bloodthirsty of her tribe. little Louis all the strong feelings of her soul were centred; but even her affection for him was characterised by a strange and unwonted fierceness. Her only care seemed to be to make him like his grandfather, and to instil a deadly hatred of white men; and the boy learned his lessons well. He was the veriest little savage that ever let fly an arrow. To his mother alone he yielded anything like submission; and the Sioux were proud to hail the haughty child as their future chieftain.

In

Such was the aspect of things on the shore of the Mississippi, when Florimond de Rancé came among them after an absence of three years. He was induced to make this visit, partly from a lingering curiosity to see his boy, and partly from the hopes of obtaining more land from the yielding Tahmiroo. He affected much contrition for his past conduct, and promised to return with Victoire before the year expired. Tahmiroo met him with the most chilling indifference, and listened to him with a vacant look, as if she heard him not. It was only when he spoke to her boy that he could arouse her from this apparent lethargy. On this subject she was all suspicion. She had a sort of undefined dread that he too would be carried away from her; and she watched over him like a she-wolf when her young is in danger.

Her fears were not unfounded; for Florimond de Rancé did intend, by demonstrations of fondness, and glowing descriptions of Quebec, to kindle in the mind of her son a desire to accompany him.

Tahmiroo thought the hatred of white men, which she had so carefully instilled, would prove a sufficient shield; but many weeks had not elapsed before she saw that Louis was fast yielding himself up to the fascinating power which had enthralled her own youthful spirit. With this discovery came horrible thoughts of vengeance; and more than once she had nearly nerved her soul to murder the father of her son-but she could not. Something in his features still reminded her of the devoted young Frenchman who had carried her quiver through the woods and kissed the moccasin he stooped to lace, and she could not kill him.

The last cutting blow was soon given to the heart of the Indian wife. Young Louis, full of boyish curiosity, expressed a wish to go with his father, though he, at the same time, promised a speedy return. He had always been a stubborn boy; and she felt now as if her worn-out spirit would vainly contend against his wilfulness. With that sort of resigned stupor which often indicates approaching insanity, she yielded to his request, exacting, however, a promise that he would sail a few miles down the Mississippi with

The day arrived. Florimond de Rancé was at a distance on business. Tahmiroo decked herself in the garments and jewels she had worn on the day of her marriage, and selected the gaudiest wampum-belts for the little Louis.

"Why do you put these on?" said the boy. "Because Tahmiroo will no more see her son in the land of the Sioux," said she, mournfully," and when her father meets her in the Spirit Land, he will know the beads he gave her."

She took the wondering boy by the hand, and led him to the river-side. There lay the canoe her father had given her when she left him for "the wigwam of the stranger." It was faded and bruised now, and so were all her hopes. She looked back on the hut where she had spent her brief term of wedded happiness, and its peacefulness seemed a mockery of her misery. And was she-the lone, the wretched, the desperate, and deserted one-was she the Startled Fawn" of the Sioux, for whom contending chiefs had asked in vain? The remembrance of all her love and all her wrongs came up before her memory, and death | seemed more pleasant to her than the gay dance she once loved so well. But then her eye rested on her boy-and, O God! with what an agony of love! It was the last vehement struggle of a soul all formed for ter.derness. "We will go to the Spirit Land together," she exclaimed. "He cannot come there to rob me!" She took Louis in her arms as if he had been a feather, and springing into the boat, she guided it towards the Falls of St. Anthony. "Mother, mother! the canoe is going over the rapids!" screamed the frightened child. My father stands on the waves and beckons me!" she said. The boy looked at the horribly fixed expression of her face, and shrieked aloud for help. The boat went over the cataract. Louis de Rancé was seen no He sleeps with the "Startled Fawn" of the Sioux, in the waves of the Mississippi! The story is well remembered by the Indians of the present day; and when a mist gathers over the Falls, they often say, "Let us not hunt to-day. A storm will certainly come; for Tahmiroo and her son are going over the Falls of St. Anthony."-The Legendary.

more.

POISONS AND THEIR ANTIDOTES. YOUNG persons should be cautioned against tasting any roots, berries, seed, or leaves, with which they are unacquainted. Many plants have narcotic qualities, like opium, producing distress, nausea, and giddiness; sometimes ending in convulsions and death. When people have been poisoned by swallowing laudanum, or similar substances, a thorough evacuation of the stomach is the first object. Powerful doses of emetics must be given instantly. Ipecacuhana is recommended for narcotic poisons, because it peculiarly counteracts their effects. Thirty grains added to the same quantity of sulphate of zinc, may be given to a grown person; and fifteen grains of ipecacuanha repeated every ten minutes, till it operates freely. If the wine of ipecacuanha is used, two ounces may be given for the first dose, and a tablespoonful repeated. The inclination to vomit should be encouraged by tickling the throat with a feather, or with the finger, and by large draughts of lukewarm water. If other emetics are not at hand, one tablespoonful of powdered mustard, stirred in a tumbler of warm water, and repeated if necessary, will generally induce vomiting. As, however, the stomach soon becomes insensible to the action of emetics, when narcotic poisons have been taken, no time should be lost in obtaining medical assistance, in order that recourse may be had to the stomach-pump, which will effectually remove the poison. When the emetic has operated, a brisk dose of castor oil and jalap should

be given. Vinegar and lemon-juice have been recommended; but some physicians say they do much more harm than good. To counteract drowsiness, keep the patient walking, and give strong coffee, or strong green tea freely. The douche or cold shower-bath is also serviceable. A teaspoonful of water of ammonia, or hartshorn, in a wineglassful of water, every fifteen minutes, repeated for an hour or more, if the emergency render it necessary, is said to have a very stimulating and rousing effect. This should be persevered

in when the system seems sinking, and reaction does not take place. If this cannot be obtained, a little clear rum or brandy may be given. At the same time the body should be rubbed with salt, and hartshorn applied to the nostrils. The patient should not sleep for twelve hours. The diet should be very bland and simple during recovery. The after-treatment should be directed by a medical man.

MINERAL POISONS.

The most common are nitric acid, arsenic, and oxalic acid. They produce burning heat in the mouth and stomach, acute pain, nausea, and hiccough. Repeated doses of calcined magnesia are the best antidote. If magnesia is not at hand, let a solution of soap and water be drunk freely. It is made by dissolving half-apound of brown soap in a quart of water; a cupful should be given warm every three or four minutes. Chalk and water and limewater likewise tend to neutralise the acid.

An emetic should be instantly given. Sulphate of zinc operates the quickest, and is always most safely administered mingled with ipecacuanha. A grown person may take thirty grains of each in a glassful of warm water; and fifteen grains of ipecacuanha may be repeated every ten minutes, if necessary. Assist the vomiting by copious draughts of warm barley-water, gruel, or linseed tea. Emollient fomentations and injections are useful. Physicians usually try bleeding, or leeches, when the inflammatory symptoms appear. During convalescence, the diet should be strictly confined to gruel, arrow-root, milk, &c. Arsenic usually causes free vomiting, without adventitious assistance. Its effects are counteracted by chalk and water, mucilaginous drinks, but latterly it has been stated that the tritoxide of iron, or iron-rust, will prove the best and an immediate antidote.

When corrosive sublimate has been swallowed, the white of eggs, taken freely, will resolve it into a harmless mass.

Sugar, or syrup, in large quantities, is an antidote to the poison of copper or verdigris; and coffee immediately decomposes it. Common salt is an antidote to nitrate of silver.

Sulphate of magnesia, or sulphate of soda, are useful in counteracting the effects of sugar of lead and other preparations of that

metal.

When over-doses of tartar emetic or other antimonials have been taken, yellow Peruvian bark will prevent the fatal effects. One ounce of the strong infusion is said to neutralise the effect of tartar emetic. Almost any vegetable bitter will have the same effect; therefore it is very improper to give camomile tea when you wish to cause vomiting with antimony.-Mrs. Child.

MONKEY STORIES.

IN No. 38, we gave a paper on "Monkeys and their imitative Powers," and in recent Numbers inserted a lecture upon the intellect observable in animals; and as a sort of pendant we transcribe the following remarks upon the habits of monkeys, from Mrs. Meer Hassan Ali's amusing volumes, to which we were indebted on a former occasion. It is a common saying with the lower orders of Eastern countries, that the monkeys would speak if they were not afraid of being set to work did they betray their capacity; and some of the stories told of them, on the authority of the natives, by Mrs. Meer Hassan Ali, contain enough of the marvellous to warrant such a conclusion. But we rather fear they want confirmation.

"The natives firmly believe the whole monkey race to be gifted with reason to a certain extent, never accounting for the sagacity and cunning they are known to possess by instinctive habits; arguing from their own observations, that the monkeys are peaceable neighbours or inveterate enemies to man, in proportion as their good will is cultivated by kindness and hospitality, or their propensity to revenge roused by an opposite line of conduct to

wards them.

"The husbandman whose land is in the vicinity of a forest, and the abode of monkeys, secures safety to his crops by planting a patch of ground with that species of grain which these animals are known to prefer. Here they assemble, as appetite calls, and feast themselves upon their own allotment; and, as if they appreciated the hospitality of the landlord, not a blade is broken, or a seed destroyed, in the fields of corn to the right and left of their plantation. But woe to the farmer who neglects this provision; his fields will not only be visited by the marauders, but their ven

geance will be displayed in the wasteful destruction of his cultivation. This undoubtedly looks more like reason than instinct; and if credit could be given to half the extraordinary tales that are told of them, the monkeys of India might justly be entitled to a higher claim than that of instinct for their actions.

"Monkeys seem to be aware that snakes are their natural enemies. They never advance in pursuit of, yet they rarely run from a snake; unless its size renders it too formidable an object for their strength and courage to attack with anything like a prospect of success in destroying it. So great is the animosity of the monkey race to these reptiles, that they attack them systematically, after the following manner :

"When a snake is observed by a monkey, he depends on his remarkable agility as a safeguard from the enemy. At the most favourable opportunity he seizes the reptile just below the head with a firm grasp, then springs to a tree, if available, or to any hard substance near at hand, on which he rubs the snake's head with all his strength until life is extinct, at intervals smelling the fresh blood as it oozes from the wounds of his victim. When success has crowned his labour, the monkey capers about his prostrate enemy, as if in triumph at the victory he has won; developing, as the natives say, in this, a striking resemblance to

man.

"Very few monkeys, in their wild state, ever recover from inflicted wounds; the reason assigned by those who have studied their usual habits is, that whenever a poor monkey has been wounded, even in the most trifling way, his associates visit him by turns, when each visitor, without a single exception, is observed to scratch the wound smartly with his nails. A wound left to itself might be expected to heal in a short time, but thus irritated by a successive application of their sharp nails, it inflames and increases. Mortification is early induced by the heated atmosphere, and death rapidly follows.

"The monkeys' motives for adding to their neighbour's anguish is accounted for by some speculators on the score of their aversion to the unnatural smell of blood; or they are supposed to be actuated by a natural abhorrence to the appearance of the wound, not by any means against the wounded, since, in their domestic habits, they are considered to be peaceable and affectionate in their bearings towards each other. The strong will exercise mastery over the weak where food is scarce, but, in a general way, they are by no means quarrelsome or revengeful amongst themselves. They are known to hold by each other in defending rights and privileges, if the accounts given by creditable natives be true, who add that a whole colony of monkeys have been known to issue forth in a body to revenge an injury sustained by an individual of their tribe; often firing a whole village of chupha-roofs, where the aggressor is known to be a resident, who in his anger may have maimed or chastised one of their colony.

"The female monkey is remarkable for her attachment to her progeny, which she suckles until it is able to procure food for its own sustenance. When one of her young dies, the mother is observed to keep it closely encircled in her arms, moaning piteously with true maternal feelings of regret, and never parting with it from her embrace until the dead body becomes an offensive mass: and when at last she quits her hold, she lays it on the ground before her, at no great distance, watching with intense anxiety the dead body before her, which she can no longer fold in her embrace, until the work of decomposing has altered the form of the creature that claimed her tender attachment. What an example is here given to unnatural mothers who neglect or forsake their offspring!

"I shall here insert a few anecdotes illustrative of the opinions of the natives on the subject of monkeys being possessed of reasoning faculties. They shall be given exactly as I have received them, not expecting my readers will give to them more credit than I am disposed to yield to most of these tales; but as they are really believed to be true by the natives who relate them, I feel bound to afford them a place in my work, which is intended rather to describe men as they are than men as I wish to see them.

"In the neighbourhood of Muttra is an immense jungle or forest, where monkeys abound in great numbers and variety. Near a village bordering this forest is a large natural lake, which is said to abound with every sort of fish and alligators. On the banks of this lake are many trees, some of which branch out a great distance over the water. On these trees monkeys of a large description, called Lungoor, gambol from spray to spray in happy amusement: sometimes they crowd in numbers on one branch, by which means their weight nearly brings the end of the bough to

the surface of the water; on which occasion it is by no means unusual for one or more of their numbers to be lessened. "Whether the monkeys told their thoughts or not, my informant does not say; but the retailers of the story assert that the oldest monkey was aware that his missing brethren had been seized by an alligator from the branch of the tree, whilst they were enjoying their amusement. This old monkey, it would seem, resolved on revenging the injury done to his tribe, and formed a plan for retaliating on the common enemy of his race.

"The monkeys were observed by the villagers, for many successive days, actively occupied in collecting the fibrous bark of certain trees, which they were converting into a thick rope. The novelty of this employment surprised the peasants, and induced them to watch daily for the result. When the rope was completed, from sixty to seventy of the strongest monkeys conveyed it to the tree having formed a noose at one end with the nicest care, the other end was secured by them to the overhanging arm of the tree. This ready, they commenced their former gambols, jumping about and crowding on the same branch which had been so fatal to many of their brethren.

"The alligator, unconscious of the stratagem thus prepared to secure him, sprang from the water as the branch descended, but instead of catching the monkey he expected, he was himself caught in the noose; and the monkeys moving away rather precipitately, the alligator was drawn considerably above the surface of the water, The more he struggled, the firmer he was held by the noose; and here was his skeleton to be seen many years after, suspended from the tree over the water, until time and the changes of season released the blanched bones from their exalted situation, to consign them to their more natural element in the lake below.

"On one occasion, a Hindoo traveller, on his way to Muttra, from his place of residence, drew down the resentment of the monkeys inhabiting the same forest, by his inattention to their well-known habits. The story is told as follows:

"The man was travelling with all his worldly wealth about his person: viz., fifty gold mohurs (each nearly equal to two pounds in value), and a few rupees, the savings of many a year's hard service, which were secreted in the folds of his turban; a good suit of clothes on his back; a few gold ornaments on his neck and arms; and a bundle of sundries and cooking vessels. "The Hindoo was on foot, without companions, making his way towards the home of his forefathers, where he hoped with his little treasury to be able to spend his remaining years in peace with his family and friends, after many years' toil and absence from his home. He stopped near to the lake in question, after a long and fatiguing march, to rest himself beneath the shade of the trees, and cook his humble meal of bread and dhall. I ought here, perhaps, to say that this class of natives always cook in the open air, and, if possible, near a river, or large body of water, for the purpose of bathing before meals, and having water for purifying their cooking utensils, &c.

"The man having undressed himself, and carefully piled his wardrobe beneath the tree he had selected for shelter, went to the lake and bathed; after which he prepared his bread, and sat himself down to dine. As soon as he was comfortably seated, several large monkeys advanced and squatted themselves at a respectful distance from him, doubtless expecting to share in the good things he was enjoying. But no: the traveller was either too hungry or inhospitable, for he finished his meal without tendering the smallest portion to his uninvited visitors, who kept their station, watching every mouthful until he had finished.

"The meal concluded, the traveller gathered his cooking vessels together, and went to the bank of the lake in order to wash them, as is customary, and to cleanse his mouth after eating; his clothes and valuables were left securely under the tree, as he imaginedif he thought at all about them-for he never dreamed of having offended the monkeys by eating all he had cooked, without making them partakers. He was no sooner gone, however, than the monkeys assembled round his valuables; each took something from the collection; the oldest among them having secured the purse of gold, away they ran to the tree over the very spot where the man was engaged in polishing his brass vessels.

"The Hindoo had soon completed his business at the lake, and unconscious of their movements, he had returned to the tree, where, to his surprise and sorrow, he discovered his loss. Nearly frantic, the Hindoo doubted not some sly thief had watched his motions and removed his treasures, when he heard certain horrid yells from the monkeys which attracted his attention: he returned hastily to the lake, and on looking up to the tree, he discovered his enemies in the monkeys. They tantalised him for some time