I mixed for a while with those who dwell on the very pinnacle of this fool's world of fashion; with those who inhabit its middle regions, and with those who have pitched their tents at its foot, whence they turn longing, lingering looks at the unattainable summit; but rarely did I ever find a vestige of that "attractive art of social life, that perfect equipoise of all the social talents, which diffuses a feeling of complacency over all within its sphere;-as far removed from stiffness and prudery as from rudeness and licence, which speaks with equal charm to the heart and the head, and continually excites, while it never wearies; an art of which the French so long remained the sole masters and models.

Instead of this, I saw in the fashionable world only too frequently, and with few exceptions, a profound vulgarity of thought; an immorality little veiled or adorned; the most undisguised arrogance; and the coarsest neglect of all kindly feelings and attentions haughtily assumed, for the sake of shining in a false and despicable refinement, even more inane and intolerable to a healthy mind than the awkward and ludicrous stiffness of the most declared nobodies. It has been said that vice and poverty are the most revolting combination:since I have been in England, vice and boorish rudeness seem to me to form a still more disgusting union.

Tour of a German Prince.

leas,

And tongues of busy bairns hummed thick as swarming bees.

A hedge of hawthorn, mixed with holly, swept

Around each garden, screening every cot; Among them all a bleaching rivulet crept, Where webs lay white as lily without spot. The parish kirk, through reverend elms remote,

Stood 'midst its grave-stones, row succeeding row;

O'er all the distant city's steeples shot; Bright in the sun, the Solway slept below, Where sailors charmed the wind, yet still their ships swam slow.

ANCIENT TUMULI IN AMERICA.

SCHOOLCRAFT, in his travels in the central portions of the Mississippi, alludes to these ancient remains, but is at a loss to account for their origin. The subject certainly presents a fine field for the antiquary. A different race of men to the Indians appears to have once inhabited the vast continent of America; but the period of their existence, their habits, religion, and laws, are now unknown. We make the following extract, relating to these tumuli, from a work entitled "A Ramble of Six Thousand Miles through the United States of America;" a volume which, we take this opportunity of assuring our readers, will be found replete with curious and entertaining matter. They will find in it a fair and impartial account of our Yankee brethren, untinged by prejudice or that John Bullism so much indulged in by some English travellers.

"On our return to Illinois from Missouri, we visited the tumuli in the 'American Bottom,' for the purpose of more closely investigating the form and disposition of these sepulchral mounds. Their shape is invariably hemispherical, or of the mamelle form. Throughout the country, from the banks of the Hudson to a considerable distance beyond the Mississippi, tumuli, and the remains of earthen fortifications were dispersed. Those of the former which have been removed, were found to contain human bones, earthen vessels,

and utensils composed of alloyed metal; which latter fact is worthy of particular notice, as none of the Indians of North America are acquainted with the art of alloying. The vessels were generally of the form of drinking-cups, or ewer-shaped cans, sometimes with a flange to admit a cover. One of those which I saw in a museum at Cincinnati, had three small knobs at the bottom on which it stood, and I was credibly informed that a dissenting clergyman, through the esprit de metier, undertook to prove from the circumstance, that the people who raised these mounds and fortifications must have been acquainted with the doctrine of the Trinity. How far the reverend gentleman is correct in his inference, I leave for theologians to decide.

"The Indians do not claim the mounds as depositories for their dead, but are well aware of their containing human bones. They frequently encamp near them, and visit them on their journeys, but more as land marks than on any other account. They approach them with reverence, as they do all burial places, no matter of what people or nation. The Quapaws have a tradition, that they were raised many hundred snows' ago, by a people that no longer exists; they say, that in those days game was so plenty that very little exertion was necessary to procure a subsistence, and there were then no wars-these happy people having then no employment, collected, merely for sport, these heaps of earth, which have ever since remained, and have subsequently been used by another people, who succeeded them, as depositories of their dead. Another tradition is, that they were erected by the Indians to protect them from the mammoths, until the Great Spirit took pity on his red children, and annihilated these enormous elephants. Most of the Indian nations concur in their having been the work of a people which had ceased to exist before the red men possessed those hunting grounds.

"The numerous mounds, fortifications, and burial caverns, and the skeletons and mummies, that have been discovered in these catacombs, sufficiently establish the fact, that a people altogether different from the present aborigines once inhabited these regions. At what period this by-gone people flourished still remains a matter of mere conjecture, for to the present time no discovery has been made that could lead to any plausible supposition.

"De Witt Clinton having paid more attention to the antiquities of America than any other person of whom I am aware, I shall here insert his description of the forts. He says, 'These forts were, generally speaking, erected on the most commanding ground. The walls, or breaṣtworks, were earthen. The ditches were on the exterior of the works. On some of the parapets, oak trees were to be seen, which, from the number of concentric circles, must have been standing one hundred and fifty, two hundred and sixty, and three hundred years; and there were evident indications, not only that they had sprung up since the erection of these works, but that they were at least a second growth. The trenches were in some cases deep and wide, and in others shallow and narrow; and the breastworks varied in altitude from three to eight feet. They sometimes had one, and sometimes two entrances, as was to be inferred from there being no ditches at those places. When the works were protected by a deep ravine, or large stream of water, no ditch was to be seen. The areas of these forts varied from two to six acres; and the form was in general and irregular ellipsis; in some of them, fragments of earthenware and pulverised substances, supposed to have been originally human bones, were to be found.'

"I believe we may confidently pronounce, that all the hypotheses which attribute these works to Europeans are incorrect and fanciful: 1st. on account of the present number of the works; 2d. on account of their antiquity; having from every appearance been erected a long time before the discovery of America; and, finally, their form and manner are varient from European fortifications, either in ancient or modern times.

"It is equally clear that they were not the work of the Indians. Until the Senecas, who are renowned for their national vanity, had seen the attention of the Americans attracted to these erections, and had invented the fabulous account of which I have spoken, the Indians of the present day did not pretend to know any thing about their origin. They were beyond the reach of all their traditions, and were lost in the abyss of unexplored antiquity.'

At the Bull Shoals, east branch of White river in Missouri, several feet below the surface of the banks, reliqua were found which indicated that this spot had formerly been the seat of me

talurgical operations. The alloy appeared to be lead united with silver. Arrow-heads cut out of flint, and pieces of earthen pots which had evidently undergone the action of fire, were also found here. The period of time at which these operations were carried on in this place must have been very remote, as the present banks have been since entirely formed by alluvial deposits.

Near the Teel-te-nuh (or drippingfork), which empties itself into the La Platte, and not far distant from its junction with that river, there is an extensive cavern, in which are deposited several mummies. Some tribes which roam this region have a tradition, that the first Indian ascended through this aperture, and settled on the earth's surface. "A few years since, on the Merrimac river in St. Louis county, a number of pigmy graves were discovered. The coffins were of stone; and the length of the bodies which they contained, judging from that of the coffins, could not have been more than from three feet and a half to four feet. The graves were numerous, and the skeletons in some instances nearly entire.

"In the month of June (1830), a party of gentlemen, whilst in pursuit of wild turkeys, in Hart county, Kentucky, discovered, on the top of a small knoll, a hole sufficiently large to admit a man's body. Having procured lights, they descended, and at the depth of about sixty feet, entered a cavern, sixteen or eighteen feet square, apparently hewn out of solid rock. The whole chamber was filled with human skeletons, which they supposed, from the size, to be those of women and children. The place was perfectly dry, and the bones were in a state of great preservation. They wished to ascertain how deep the bones lay, and dug through them between four and seven feet, but found them quite as plentiful as at the top: on coming to this depth, dampness appeared, and an unpleasant effluvia arising, obliged them to desist. There was no outlet to the cavern. A large snake, which appeared to be perfectly docile, passed several times round the apartment whilst they remained.

"In a museum at New York, I saw one of those mummies alluded to, which appeared to be remarkably small; but I had not an opportunity of examining it minutely. Those that have been found in the most perfect state of preservation were deposited in nitrous caves, and were enveloped in a manner so different from the practices of the Indians,

that the idea cannot be entertained of their being the remains of the ancestors of the present race. Flint gives the following description of one of them which he carefully examined. He says, "The more the subject of the past races of men and animals in this region is investigated, the more perplexed it seems to become. The huge bones of the animals indicate them to be vastly larger than any that now exist on the earth. All that I have seen and heard of the remains of the men, would seem to shew that they were smaller than the men of our times. All the bodies that have been found in that high state of preservation, in which they were discovered in nitrous caves, were considerably smaller than the present ordinary stature of men. The two bodies that were found in the vast limestone cavern in Tennessee, one of which I saw at Lexington, were neither of them more than four feet in height. It seems to me that this must have been nearly the height of the living person. The teeth and nails did not seem to indicate the shrinking of the flesh from them in the desiccating process by which they were preserved. The teeth were separated by considerable intervals; and were small, long, white, and sharp, reviving the horrible images of nursery tales of ogres' teeth. The hair seemed to have been sandy, or inclining to yellow. It is well known that nothing is so uniform in the present Indian as his lank black hair. From the pains taken to preserve the bodies, and the great labour of making the funeral robes in which they were folded, they must have been of the blood-royal, or personages of great consideration in their day. The person that I saw, had evidently died by a blow on the skull. The blood had coagulated there into a mass, of a texture and colour sufficiently marked to shew that it had been blood. The envelope of the body was double. Two splendid blankets, completely woven with the most beautiful feathers of the wild turkey, arranged in regular stripes and compartments, encircled it. The cloth on which these feathers were woven, was a kind of linen of neat texture, of the same kind with that which is now woven from the fibres of the nettle. The body was evidently that of a female of middle age, and I should suppose that her majesty weighed, when I saw her, six or eight pounds.'"

"The silly attempts that have been made to establish an oriental origin for

the North American Indians, have never produced any other conviction in an unbiassed mind, than that the facts brought forward to support that theory existed only in the imaginations of those who advanced them. The colour, the form, the manners, habits, and propensities of the Indians, all combine to establish that they are a distinct race of human beings, and could never have emanated from any people of European, Asiatic, or African origin.

MARY HUGHES:

A TALE OF THE WELCH HIGHLANDS.
Concluded from page 23.

THE next day Edward went on his delicate mission. When her father was made aware of the fresh debt of gratitude he had contracted, he met his young friend's demand with the greater pleasure, as he was then conscious of having it in his power to bestow a suitable acknowledgment on his exertions. He said he had but one gift worth his acceptance, and that was his daughter. She was a treasure he felt loth to part with; yet, as no one could possibly deserve her so well as one who had twice perilled his life to save hers, if she loved him, and he possessed his father's consent, they should have his, and his blessing, whenever they were desirous of possessing them.

With his own father Edward was not so successful. The old gentleman imagined, that if he was married at so early an age, he might probably become indolent and unfit for his vocation; he therefore stated to him, that if he immediately proceeded to college, and obtained there those honours he knew he had sufficient ability to expect, he should, after having been ordained for holy orders, possess the hand he coveted, with his most fervent prayers for their happiness. Nothing, he said, could give greater pleasure to him than to unite the daughter of his ancient friend with his only son; but he could not think it accordant with his duty as a Christian minister, and his duty as a father, to give his consent to their union till such conditions had been fulfilled. With such (as he considered) hard terms as these, Edward was obliged to acquiesce.

Mary was soon acquainted with the circumstances: an arrangement like this was quite unexpected to her. It was not without some misgivings that she acceded to it. Her feelings had been raised to a height of rapturous ex

Day after day went by, and still found them together roaming the levels, climbing the hills, or seated on the declivities, with hearts brimming with the fulness of their affection, and eyes glistening with the rapture of their bliss. Little he said of his departure. His joy was in the present, nor had he fears for the future. No plans were formed, no promises given, no anticipations considered. The time passed rapidly and joyously, in the sweet indulgence of their mutual love. The last day arrived. Edward rode over to his friend's mansion to take his farewell. He found her in the antique summer-house, playing on her harp a melody she knew he loved to hear. She always forgot her fears when she found him by her side; but this morning she had woke to the certainty of its being the last day of their meeting. In spite of his caresses, she could not refrain from unburdening to him the fearful anticipations she cherished her regret at his departure -and her fears for his safety. He endeavoured to persuade her that her fears were vain, but met with little success. She hung upon his shoulder, her eyes glistening with tears, imploring him to remember her when away, to think of her often, to write to her frequentlybut, above all, to be sure to be always attentive to his own safety; for if any thing was to happen to him, she could not live; her heart would break, and an early grave would be her portion. Overpowered with the agony of her feelings, she sank exhausted on his arm. Edward gazed upon her pale features, while her bright hair was streaining over her shoulders, and her fair form was reclining on his for support, and vowed to himself that never in word or deed, in thought or action, would he do any thing that might give her pain. He felt almost subdued by the force of his own sensations. He could not look unmoved on the spectacle before him, nor could he observe

the intensity of her affection without being deeply affected by it.

She soon recovered, raised herself from his arm, and looked upon him for a time steadily and composedly; then, in a fresh burst of uncontrollable transport, she pressed him fondly to her breast, and clung upon his lips in a paroxysm of passionate feeling. Every promise was made to her that could tend in the least degree to mitigate her sorrow, or to quiet her fears; and at last, with frequent vows of fidelity on both sides, and parting gifts given and received, she allowed him to depart.

Edward sought his gallant friend, and found him seated on his pony, with a determination of seeing him to his father's, near which the coach passed that was to carry him to his destination. On they jogged; the sure-footed animals on which they rode, like the mules in the mountainous districts of Spain, seemed to possess a more than natural instinct in climbing the dangerous passes that lay in their direction. They never stumbled, even upon the most hazardous footing; but trod with as much safety their rugged pathways, and felt as much at ease, as a modern exquisite on the broad pavé of Regent Street or St. James's. When they parted, it was not without some emotion that the veteran left his young friend, as he shook him heartily by the hand, and wished him all success at Alma Mater. Months passed, years were following, and Mary still continued to improve in loveliness and excellence. She frequently received letters from her lover, all breathing the tenderest affection; and she had intelligence from his father (who generally managed to ride over once a-week to see his old friend) of his progress and success. She felt almost happy; and she looked forward to the close of the last year, when she expected to be quite so. As she aproached nearer and nearer to the time appointed for the full enjoyment of her happiness, she shook off the fear that had oppressed her, and determined to consider the blind bard as a false prophet.

In their neighbourhood, a few miles distant from them, lived a young man, named Walter Jones, who had just succeeded to a small property left him by his father. Walter had never borne a good character among his more respectable neighbours. He had from a boy been violent and headstrong, fond of mischief, partial to bad company, and addicted to hard drinking. It was said

that he had been lately recognised on the coast with a party of smugglers who were known to frequent there; and it was generally suspected that he was their leader. He was tall, athletic, and not unhandsome either in form or features. His dark eyes, which many a simple girl thought beautiful, when lighted up by passion or revenge flashed upon the object of his hatred an almost supernatural light; and his black hair, which had never been cut, curled over his forehead, and hung down upon his shoulders, giving an appearance of wild beauty to his features, whose delineation would have done honour to the pencil of a Salvator Rosa. He was the dread of many of the peasantry for his dark eye, and the fear of others for his great strength. He was reckless and daring as a young lion, but savage and ferocious as a wild tigress. Still, he was admitted into the society of the small farmers of the vicinity, where his courage made him acceptable to some, his qualifications in hard drinking to many, and his paternal acres and good figure brought with them no small recommendation to others of which careful mothers and ambitious daughters formed a large portion. They knew little, it is to be hoped, of his more exceptionable deeds nothing but the romantic interest that was attached to his name. Whisperings came to them of daring enterprises, in which he had acted a principal character; but among a people where such things have always been looked upon as more glorious than blamable, it was not to be supposed it could much injure him in their estimation. Nothing dark, in which his name was mixed up with deeds of blood and with victims of treachery, ever came to their ears; for he was in the habit of managing matters in a much surer way.

At the house of a gentleman in the neighbourhood, Mary and her father met him for the first time. He was not unknown to Captain Hughes; but his knowledge of him was derived from the report of his tenants, and from facts learned in his professional capacity as a magistrate. Mary had never seen him before; but it was suspected by some that he had seen her, although he had previously had no opportunity of speaking to her; for it was afterwards discovered that the two men who attacked her at the ruins of the old monastery belonged to the smugglers on the coast; and what object they could have in carrying her off, was supposed to be best known to himself. He seemed