possess any very efficient code of Game Laws; and the Frenchmen consequently ranged the shores of the great river, hunting and shooting as they pleased, without the wholesome fear of a prison before their eyes. Missing one of their number after an expedition of this kind, La Salle “threw up an entrenchment,” which he called Fort Prudhomme, and sent some of his party out to catch a few prisoners to be held as hostages for the missing gentleman, who was found safe and sound, after nine days' wandering in the woods.

Hearing a native drum as they floated on the broad waters of the Mississippi, “trees were felled, and another place of defence hastily constructed,” for which there was, of course, more reason this time than ever, as the drum might again startle them from their propriety. These fears were, however, groundless, as no demonstrations of hostility were shown by the natives, who on the other hand treated La Salle-or more probably, his scarlet cloak—with marked deference and respect. Availing himself of this incident, he “took possession of the country in the name of the king, erected a cross, and adorned it with the arms of France." This was done with much pomp and ceremony, “at which the savages testified great joy, and doubtless supposed it to be for their amusement.”

This was an easy conquest; and the next step was to visit the Taensas, whose king received them with every demonstration of respect. Whether the fact that he really was a king, and a man who knew what he was about, induced the Frenchmen to forego their usual farce of " taking possession;" it is quite clear that in this instance they made no claim to territory. Probably the reason lay in the assertion made by one of the party, that these people were "docile, tractable, and capable of intellectual culture." The shrewd Frenchman, in fact, saw plainly it would not do they were rather too "intellectual" to give up their father-land for nothing, and La Salle consequently pushed forward.

Proceeding thirty or forty miles further, they fell in with some fishermen of the Natches tribe, and finding them easier to deal with, "another cross was planted with the arms of France attached to it, by which ceremony the country was declared to be held by the king."

Advancing on their voyage about one hundred miles, they found the Quinipissas disposed to shew fight, saluting them with a shower of arrows, raising the war-cry, and deafening them with their drums. They accordingly hastened on without returning these civilities, till the river divided into three branches. Of these, La Salle chose the westernmost, and having reached the open sea, set up a column with the arms and title of his master, ordered the Te Deum to be sung; and amidst the rattle of fire-arms, and the shouts and yells of the spectators, took possession of the whole country of Louisiana for the French King!

This was what our fishermen would call "a good catch;" for Louisiana extends somewhere about fourteen hundred miles in one direction, and eleven hundred in another. Few bargains are to be compared with this. A cross, a pillar, a chorus, and a round of musketry, would cost next to nothing; and yet they seem to have been the only "consideration" that passed from the French to the natives.

Perhaps some one, deeply read in the Law of Nations, or learned in law, common or uncommon, civil or uncivil, can explain by what right the French "take" in this curious case? As well might the mouse that forages my larder claim a right to all its contents, in virtue of his having once scampered round it. Nay, he would be more reasonable in asking its surrender than were these Frenchmen; for the cream of the joke is, that Louisiana lies to the westward of the Ohio and Mississippi, so that its eastern limit was only just touched upon by these invaders. In plain English, they took possession of the country in virtue of never having been an inch within its borders! We shall next hear of our cockneys at Dover taking possession of "La Belle France," because they have seen its white cliffs through their telescopes!

"BE YE ALSO READY."

To the Editor of the Youths' Magazine.

DEAR SIR,-Last month I saw my brother-my only brother, laid in the grave. The companion of my life, and the sharer of its joys and sorrows, left me for ever. At such a time, we

feel, emphatically, that "this is not our rest," and while the grave receives our tears, we look forward to the moment when we shall recognize our friends in heaven, and for ever be happy, in their society, among the delights of Paradise.

My brother had a delicate constitution, and was unable to engage in the sports and activities of youth. His taste induced a greater love for learning than the delicate fabric of his constitution would allow. Though ill-health often interrupted his attendance at school, yet his scholarship was rewarded with the highest distinctions. The leisure which his delicacy afforded him was employed in the congenial habits of reading and self-culture; and his mind, which was of a superior order, became matured under habits so studious.

When my brother died, I was severed from the most amiable and gentle of dispositions, and the most intelligent and pious of companions. Thank God the separation is not for ever. My brother's piety was all the more sincere that it was unostentatious. Towards the close of a life which had been regulated by her principles, Religion lent all her consolations.

It is sad to see a beautiful flower wither among its bright companions, and droop in the glowing sunshine; it is sad to see the old tree, bare and withered, decaying amid its fellows, and dying amid the rustling of their leaves; it is sadder to behold a child of our humanity, weak and frail with living so long, fall into the dust. Oh! it is saddest of all to see the young and fair die; to look as the grave closes over the budful life and joyousness of seventeen.

The "Youths' Magazine" was a favorite with my brother; latterly he contributed some articles to its pages.* He died in the same month in which his last contribution appeared in the Magazine.

After his death, I found in his desk a hymn, evidently among the last of his writings; its subject is striking, and looks as if it had been dictated from some presentiment of an early removal. I have enclosed a copy. ALERTON.

Edinburgh.

• He wrote under the signature of "PYRO."

"I HAVE A DESIRE TO DEPART."
"I've a desire to depart❞

To Jesus, whose is all my heart—
With his pure pleasures ne'er to part.

I long to be a seraph bright,
That I may stand in Jesus' sight,
And bask in his eternal light!

On Jesus' bosom to repose—

Το

gaze for aye on Sharon's Rose,
As it fresh beauties would disclose.

I long with loudest voice to sing-
Till heaven's responsive arches ring-
The glory of our Saviour King.

I long to see the saintly band
Surround the throne, from every land
Redeemed by God's all-gracious hand.

I long to breathe the heavenly air—
To pour in perfect love the prayer
That fears not, fails not, doubts not there.

I long on seraph's wing to rise

To my bright mansion in the skies,
To gain my home in Paradise.

“I've a desire to depart,"

My treasure here; and there my heart-
Why, Lord! oh why, so long apart?

THE DISHONESTY OF INFIDELITY.

THE famous Zodiac of Dendera* has been the subject of many a learned disquisition, and it certainly required no little shrewdness of research, and felicity of argument to rebut the popular and well-grounded belief, that the present constitution of things had existed for no more than 6,000 years. A host of writers, however, thrust themselves into the field, and pleaded on behalf of this wonderful picture, that it was nearly thrice

• Or Tentyris, in Egypt. The Zodiac is now in Paris.

as old as the world in which we live. We can now laugh at their ridiculous assertions, and pity the spirit in which they labored; for on this very temple the name of Tiberius Cæsar has been discovered. But it will afford us some amusement to examine their speculations, and see how they have heaped conjecture upon conjecture till the whole of their ingenious fabric has "toppled down headlong."

In the first place, it is assumed that this painting, ceiling, tablet, or diagram, has an astronomical reference, though there are no stars depicted in their proper places on it; and those arranged around its margin are grouped with mathematical precision, but without any regard to their real relative positions. "The signs of the Zodiac," says Mr. Landseer, "are there, to be sure, but they are not in their celestial places, nor within the path of the sun and planets, with respect to which, some of them stand double; nor do they occupy anything like those regular spaces, which learned writers have asserted the Egyptian astronomers to have exactly measured out by means of their clepsydra."

In the second place it is assumed that there ought to be certain lines drawn across the painting at right angles with the sides of the room, though no traces of any such lines exist, and notwithstanding some equally plausible arguments from these disagreeing doctors, that they should run in a diagonal direction.

In the third place, it is assumed that these imaginary lines, had they been present, would have represented the Colures, though some writers of equal skill in "the ancient art of inventing truth," have discovered the places and symbols of the Equinoctial and solstitial points in quite another part of the ceiling.

In the fourth place, it is assumed that, although the aspect presented by the heavens scarcely more than 3,000 years ago agrees equally well with that supposed to be indicated in this planisphere, the diagram must be 13,000 years older; as at that time the Colure would again pass through the same signs of the Zodiac. In other words, these candid savans have chosen the earliest of two periods presenting coincident features.

And in the fifth place, it is assumed that because it seems to.