"There is nothing," said he to the brother of Amelie, “there is nothing in this history which deserves the pity which is shown you here. I see a young man infatuated with idle fancies, to whom everything is displeasing, and who is disposed to avoid the duties of society, in order to yield himself up to useless reveries. Sir, one is not a superior man on account of the fact that he looks on the world in an odious light. One does not hate men and life except because he does not see far enough. Raise your eyes a little more and you will soon be convinced that all the afflictions of which you complain, are pure nothingness. But what shame on being unable to think of a single real misfortune of your life, without being forced to blush! All the purity, all the virtue, all the religion, all the crowns of a saint, render the sole idea of your sorrows scarcely tolerable. Your sister has atoned her fault; but if it be necessary here to speak my thought, I fear that by a dreadful justice, a confession issued from the bosom of the tomb, has not, in turn, troubled your soul. What are you doing alone in the depths of the forests, where you consume your days, neglecting all your duties? Do you tell me, the saints have buried themselves in the desert? They were there with their tears, and employed, in subduing their passions, the time which you lose, perhaps, in cultivating yours. Presumptuous youth, who have supposed that man can satisfy himself alone! Solitude is dangerous for him who does not live with God. It redoubles the powers of the soul, at the same time that it takes away every subject on which those powers should be exercised. Whosoever has received powers should consecrate them to the service of his fellow-creatures. If he leaves them useless, he is first punished by a secret misery, and sooner or later, heaven sends him horrible anguish."

Troubled by these words, Rene raised again, from the bosom of Chactas, his humiliated head. The blind Sachem gave him a smile; and that smile of the lips which mingled itself no more with the smile of the eyes, had a mysterious and heavenly charm. "My son," said the old lover of Atala, "he speaks to us severely; he corrects both the old man and the young man, and he is right. Yes, it is necessary that thou should'st renounce that extraordinary life, which is full only of cares, for there is no happiness except in the customary ways.

"At first the Meschacebe,* while yet near its source, permits itself to be only a limpid stream. Afterwards, it calls for snows from the mountains, waters from the torrents, rains from the tempests. It overleaps its banks, and desolates its beautiful borders. The proud stream then speaks aloud of its power; but seeing that it spreads abroad de

• Indian name of the Mississippi.

struction in its course; that it flows along in abandonment through the solitude; that its waves are always turbid: it longs for its humble bed which nature made, the birds, the flowers, the trees and the streams -quiet companions in the early days of its peaceful meanderings."

Chactas was silent, and the voice of the flamingo was heard, which, retired among the reeds of the Meschacebe, announced a storm at midday. The three friends started on the track toward their cabins. Rene marched in silence between the Missionary, who prayed to God, and the blind Sachem, who sought his path. They say that, urged by the two venerable old men, he returned to his wife, but found no happiness. He perished soon afterwards, with Chactas and Father Souel, in the massacre of the French and the Natchez, at Louisiana. A rock is still shown where he used to go and see the sunset.

There was a time when this majestic stream,
Flowed not as now, hedged in by rocky cliffs;
But o'er a wide, a vast extent of land,
Calmly and beautifully its waters slept.
The flower-clad prairies that stretch away
On either side, lost in the distant view,
Once form'd the bed of a fair silver lake,
Beneath whose shining surface there appeared
The finny tribes, sporting amid the waves.
Bright birds, with plumage gay, of species now
Unknown, poured forth their strange, melodious songs,
As hov'ring near, they sought to quench their thirst,
In the pellucid waters at their feet.

And beasts of prey, such as the earth knows not,
Came crouching from their hiding place, to bathe

Their mammoth limbs, and cool their parched tongues;

Then crept away with stealthy tread, back to
Their haunts, casting around a timid glance,
Snuffing anon, the passing breeze which fann'd
Their hideous forms, fearing, as it would seem,
The near approach of man. For man here dwelt!

Not such as now exist; their blood was not
The same that courses in the red man's veins,
Nor can we claim them our ancestral race.
Proudly their cities rose on either side
Of this vast lake, whose placid bosom bore
Full many a graceful bark, with whitened sails,
Freighted with wealth and costly gems of art.

'T was eve-a sultry summer's eve: the sun
Had sunk to rest mid misty folds of heaven's
Dark drapery, o'er which the lightnings wreath'd
Like fiery serpents, their fantastic forms,

While muttering thunders with dire cadence fell
Upon the ear with agonizing wail!

It was the Storm-King's voice. Upon his throne
Of ebony he sat, and beckoned with his
Shadowy hand to all his phantom host.
Quick to his call the wild, Wind-Spirits came,
And marshall'd in their dread array, prepared
For conflict, ere the command was given.
On to their work they sped! with lighted torch
They crept into dark caverns, where earthquakes
For centuries had slumber'd, and awoke

Their smother'd fires and lash'd them on to fury.
Silence now reigned-the thunder's voice had ceased!
Calm-oh how calm! not e'en a leaflet stirred:
Ripple nor wave disturbed the surface clear,
Or swell'd the bosom of the peaceful lake!
Man sallied forth that he perchance might feel,
A cooling breeze upon his fevered brow;
And mothers sat with casements open wide,
Fanning their sleeping infants, while fair
Maidens with their lovers talked; the moon
Meanwhile in undimm'd splendor rose

As witness to their oft repeated vows!

But hark! from whence that deep and muttering sound;
Why quaked the earth with quick, convulsive throes?
Terroi struck every heart! The mother clasp'd

Her unconscious babe, while to her garments clung
Her trembling little ones. Men looked aghast,

And running to and fro, they sought to solve
The awful mystery, but sought in vain.

Once more dread silence reign'd, while crowds conven'd
To talk and wonder! Again earth groan'd!

The moon grew pale and meekly veil'd her face;
The stars look'd wondering down upon the wreck,
Then closed their eyes, unused to such a scene!
Still rocked the shatter'd earth! Proud cities fell,
Crushing beneath their weight all that had life.
Wild beasts of prey came forth, and howling gnash'd
Their teeth and strove each other to devour.
Back rolled the waters of the lake, whose waves
Towering like mountains high, leap'd in the air,
Then dash'd upon the land with fury wild,
And play'd among the ruins, till every trace
From off the earth forever pass'd away!

A mighty chasm form'd by the rending rocks

As nature gasp'd and heav'd her laboring breast,

Now yawn'd, and beckon'd to the madden'd waves,
To leave their fearful sport and calmly flow

In the broad channel which God's hand had wrought!
Sullenly they obeyed.

The morning dawn'd,

And the bright orb of day arose and shone
With all his wonted splendor, but no signs
Of life appeared, o'er all that blacken'd waste!
Silence unbroken reign'd; while ages pass'd,
And of the race thus swept away, no trace
Is left, save here and there a scattering mound,
Or curious work of art! Blotted from off the page

Of history, their mem'ry sleeps in the

Dark vault of chaos, upon whose misty

Walls, no pen hath traced a name immortal.

Keokuk, Iowa, 1854.