enced by the value and variety of the offerings interred with the body may have been held by the Beothuks, for in this instance the boy had been buried in his finest clothes, the deer-skin robe being fringed, and many carved ornaments decorated the border. Few Indian nations were free from a belief in the malignant powers of evil spirits, and a dread of their vindictive ness, which was so vivid as, in some cases, to embitter existence, and to drive whole tribes to actions of "folly and cruelty." A black man or devil, called Aich-mud-yim," was declared to have been seen at the great lake, and described as having a long beard and being dressed in beaver-skins. 66 The chief obstacle in deciding to what branch of the great Indian family the Beothuks belonged, is the difficulty of tracing their language to a common root. The vocabularies extant are principally derived from one taken in 1820 by the Rev. J. Leigh from a Red Indian woman called Demasduit, by the whites named Mary March; and another obtained by Mr. Cormack, who traversed the country in 1828. Cormack seems to have taken a lively interest in everything concerning the native Indians, and had good opportu nity for studying them, as while he resided in Newfoundland, an Indian girl called Shannandithit was captured and lived for some time in St. John's, a year of which she spent in Cormack's house. She learned a little English, but when we re member how difficult it is for educated persons to translate into a foreign tongue, we must allow for grave errors in a vocabulary acquired from an Indian whose language probably had no term to convey the word she was called upon to translate. one of the small islands to take birds' eggs. Her captor, in hopes of obtaining a reward, took her to the capital city. The following account is given by the Rev. Mr. Anspach : She appeared to be about fifty years of age, the tribes of Indians or savages of which we very docile, and evidently different from all have any knowledge. She was of a copper color, with black eyes and hair like the hair of a European. She showed a passionate fondness for children. Being introduced into a large assembly by Governor Gambier, never were astonishment and pleasure more strongly depicted in a human countenance than hers exhibited. After having walked through the room between the governor and the general, whose gold ornaments and feathers seemed to attract her attention in a particular manner, she squatted on the floor, holding fast a bundle, in which were her fur clothes, which she would not suffer to be taken away from her. She was then placed in a situation from which she had a full view of the whole room, and on the instant lost her usual serious or melancholy deportment. She looked at the musicians as if she wished to be near them. A them at the same time; she perfectly undergentleman took her to the band, pointing to stood his meaning, went through the crowd, sat with them for a short time, and then expressed, in her way, a wish for retiring. She was everywhere treated with the greatest kindness, and appeared to be sensible of it. Being allowed to take in the shops whatever took her fancy, she showed a decided preference for bright colors, accepted what was given, but she would not for a moment leave hold of her bundle, keenly resenting any attempt to take it from her. The authorities decided to send the woman back to her people, provided with presents which it was hoped might conciliate them. The presents consisted of nails, fishing-lines, handsaws, blankets, clasp-knives, and such articles. It is melancholy to know that the man who captured and brought the woman to St. John's who for his trouble in the matter had already received fifty pounds—is supposed to have murdered his captive on the When Elliot was engaged on his Massachusetts Indian Bible, in working at the song of Deborah, he found a difficulty in rendering the passage, "The mother of Sisera cried through the lattice." At length he called an Indian and described to him, as well as he could, a lattice win-return journey to the interior, the crime dow; but on further inquiry the missionary found that his translation, according to the assistance he had received from the Indian, would literally mean, “The mother of Sisera looked through an eel-pot." The Indian, having no idea of any lattice-work | except for eel-pots, supplied the only term with which he was acquainted. No Red Indian appears to have been seen in St. John's till the time of Governor Gambier, when, in 1803, a woman was captured as she was paddling in a canoe to being inspired by the desire of possessing himself of the trifling articles given by the governor to the unfortunate woman. About 1809 Governor Holloway, who was anxious to open friendly relations with the Red Indians, after consultation with Lord Castlereagh, the colonial minister, who approved of the expedient, had a painting executed in England which represented Indians bringing furs, etc., to traffic with the English, who were offering blankets, hatchets, and trinkets in exchange. It was intended that this picture should be left, together with a few presents, in some suitable spot, where the natives would be sure to find it, and it was hoped that the contemplation of such a work of art would convince the aborigines of the pacific in tentions of the English government. Lieutenant Spratt of the Royal Navy was entrusted with the charge of the expedition and of the painting, but was unsuccessful in opening communications with the Indians, and returned with the picture to St. John's. Demasduit, or Mary March, was taken by some men from Twillingate in 1819. These men surprised a party of Indians on the ice, and succeeded in capturing one of them, the rest taking to flight. The captive was Demasduit; her husband, a tall, fine-looking Indian, seeing his wife a prisoner, turned back to come to her rescue, and was forthwith shot dead, and the men returned homewards with their prisoner. The poor woman, it afterwards appeared, left behind her an infant, which died a couple of days after the capture of its mother, who only survived her husband and child one year. The last Beothuks seen alive were taken prisoners in 1823. The account of their capture and arrival in St. John's, I extract from the journal of the Rev. W. Wilson, a Wesleyan missionary. June 23, 1823. Last week there were brought to this town three Red Indians, socalled, who are the aboriginal inhabitants of this island. They are all females, and their capture was accomplished in the following any design or intention, they felt deeply concerned, and resolved at once to leave the hunting-ground and return home. In passing through a droke of woods, they came up with Indian females, which have since been found a wigwam, which they entered, and took three to be a mother and her two daughters. These women they brought to their own house, where they kept them until they could carry them to St. John's, and receive the government reward for bringing a Red captive Indian. The parties were brought to trial for shooting a man, but as there was no evidence against them they were acquitted. The women were first taken to Government One of House and, by order of his Excellency the Governor, a comfortable room in the courthouse was assigned to them as a place of residence, where they were treated with every The mother is far adpossible kindness. vanced in life, but seems in good health. Beds were provided for them, but they did not understand their use, and slept on their deer-skins in the corner of the room. the daughters was ill, yet she would take no medicine. The doctor recommended phlebotomy, and a gentleman allowed a vein to be no intention to kill her; but this was to no opened in his arm, to show her that there was purpose, for when she saw the lancet brought near her own arm, both she and her companions got into a state of fury, so that the doctor had to desist. Her sister was in good health. She seemed about twenty-two years of age. lf she had ever used red ochre about her person, there was then no sign of it in her face. Her complexion was swarthy, not unlike the Mic-macs; her features were handsome; she had a tall, fine figure, and stood nearly six feet high; and such a beautiful set of teeth I do not know that I ever saw in a human head. In her manner she was bland, affable, and affectionate. I showed her my watch; she In the month of March last, a party of men put it to her ear, and was amused with its from the neighborhood of Twillingate were in tick. A gentleman put a looking-glass before the country hunting for fur. The party went, her, and her grimaces were most extraordiAfter a nary; but when a black-lead pencil was put two and two, in different directions. while one of these small parties saw, on a dis- into her hand, and a piece of paper laid upon tant hill, a man coming towards them. Sup- the table, she was in raptures. She made a posing him, while at a distance, to be one of few marks on the paper, apparently to try the their own party, they fired a powder gun to let pencil; then in one flourish she drew a deer their friends know their whereabouts. The perfectly, and, what is most surprising, she Red Indian generally runs at the report of a began at the tip of the tail. One person musket; not so in the present instance. This pointed to his fingers and counted ten, which man quickened his pace towards them. They she repeated in good English; but when she now, from his gait and dress, discovered that had numbered all her fingers, her English he was an Indian, but thought he was a Mic- was exhausted, and her numeration, if numermac, and therefore felt no anxiety. Soon they ation it were, was in the Boothic tongue. found their mistake, and ascertained that the This person, whose Indian name is ShananHe dithit, is thought to be the wife of the man stranger was one of the Red Indians. She was approaching in a threatening attitude, who was shot. The old woman was morose, with a large club in his hand. They now put and had the look and action of a savage. themselves in a posture of defence, and beck- would sit all day on the floor with a deer-skin oned the Indian to surrender. This was of shawl on, and looked with dread or hatred no use; he came on with double fury, and upon everyone that entered the court-house. when nearly at the muzzle of their guns, one When we came away Shanandithit kissed all of the men fired, and the Indian fell dead at the company, shook hands with us, and dishis feet. As they had killed a man without tinctly repeated "good-bye.” manner. exquisite should be the workmanship. Writers of vers de société exist by legions; but as fine workmen must in every art be rare, the names which attain to the first rank are few. None but a master of style can write a ballad to his mistress's eyebrow that will live; but for a master-hand there is no theme too slight. De Musset never excelled in finish and felicity the After a few weeks the women were sent back to where they had been taken, but when the boat landed them on the beach and was about to leave them, they cried, they screamed, and rushed into the water after the boat, so they were taken to Twillingate till the pleasure of the government concerning them could be known. Before long the sick girl died, and the mother did not live long after her, but Shannan-immortal lines on Mimi Pinson's bonnet. dithit survived for many years, and died in the hospital of St. John's. From her it was understood that the reason she and her mother and sister had been so unwill-vorite Cat: ' ing to return to their own people was that, having been for some time amongst the white men regarded by their tribe as deadly enemies, they would be put to death as traitors. The man supposed to have been Shannandithit's husband was in reality her uncle. The family had been driven by want of food to the seacoast to look for shellfish. At that time the tribe had dwindled down to a very few individuals, and the fate of the remnant of the race is wrapped in mystery. No doubt the Red Indians retaliated on the fishermen and settlers in many instances. Driven from his fishing-grounds, robbed of his lands, his kinsmen shot down like wild beasts, what wonder that the despairing Beothuk, lurking amid the surrounding bushes, when he got the chance stealthily let fly his arrows at the encroaching white man, who possibly, in cold blood, had murdered the Indian's wife and child? As no attempt had ever been made to Christianize, or even to civilize, them, the sin could not be laid to their charge. When a tardy conscience awoke as to the treatment of the Red Indians, like most tardy consciences it came too late. The wrongs of the Beothuks had been too many and too deep for them ever again to trust the white man. In silence they passed away, and the solemn pine forests and desolate barrens of Newfoundland alone know the secret of the doom of those who have been termed the "most forlorn of all human creatures." From Temple Bar. SOCIETY POETS. Pope on Belinda's ravished lock is at his highest point of sparkle. Gray left no choicer stanzas than the "Lines on a Fa 'Twas on a lofty vase's side The azure flowers that blow, Gazed on the lake below. Her conscious tail her joy declared: Her coat that with the tortoise vies, She saw, and purred applause. Such is the style which turns trifles into gems, That on the stretched forefinger of all Time The curiosa felicitas of Horace is not finer. Among society poets, par excellence, of this century, who have more or less of this preserving quality of style, Praed's is the earliest and, on the whole, is still the highest name. His art, when at its best, was of that highest kind which seems to be spontaneous. Mr. Matthew Arnold has remarked of Wordsworth, with extreme felicity, that nature seems not only to have inspired his greatest poems, but to have written them for him. Just such is the impression of Praed's finest work. Take the merest trifle of it: Let's talk of Coplestone and prayers, Let's talk of Mr. Attwood's cause, Of fiddles, bubbles, rattles, straws! The lines seem to have sprung into being To treat of trifles in a style not trivial-the result is still the same. - this is the art of the society poet. It may be taken as an axiom, that the more trifling is the subject of a poem the more part of Miss Medora Trevilian's "Letter of Advice" to Miss Araminta Vavasour, her absent friend : You tell me you're promised a lover, The hue of his coat and his cheek? A vicar, a banker, a beau, If he studies the news in the papers If he does not call Werther delicious — If he speaks of a tax or a duty, If he does not look grand on his knees, If he's blind to a landscape of beauty, Hills, valleys, rocks, water, and trees, If he dotes not on desolate towers, If he loves not to hear the blast blow, If he knows not the language of flowers My own Araminta, say No! Don't listen to tales of his bounty, Don't hear what they say of his birth, Don't calculate what he is worth; Such lines possess, in full perfection, what Mr. Arnold, in another of his happy phrases, has called "the note of the inevitable." This stream of verse, limpid and sparkling, dancing like a mountain rill, as if it could not help it, is Praed's pe culiar excellence. But lo! where Laura, with a frenzied air, Cries, "Yes, dear Anne! the favors are bespoken; I am to have him; so my friends decided; The stars knew quite as much of it as I did! You know him, love; he is so like a mum my I wonder whether diamonds will become me! I wish she had, I'm sure I can't endure him! The cakes are ordered; how my lips will falter When I stand fainting at the marriage altar! But I'm to have him!-oh, the vile baboon!" Strange Prologue this for Laura's Honey moon! This is the very spirit of Pope's lightest satire of such, for example, as the sketch of Papillia — Papillia, wedded to her amorous spark, Sighs for the shades-"How charming is a park!" A park is purchased, but the fair he sees All bathed in tears—“Oh, odious, odious trees!" Such facility as Praed's nearly always slides into slipshodness. There could be no surer proof of his innate artistic sense of style than that his verse, spontaneous as it is, can stand beside Pope's own. Charles Stewart Calverley- the bril liant C. S. C.—was a writer of quite different qualities. His song had more the note of a trained bird's; there is art in every turn of it. His verse is less natural, less "catching," than Praed's; it less often remains humming in the reader's brain like an air which one hears and goes away whistling. He had studied Horace like a lover-his versions of the odes are among the best existing — and that most artistic of all poetic workmen had taught him something of his craft. It is interesting to observe how, in the lightest branches of an art, the study of great masters gives a touch of greatness. Both Praed and Calverley (like Gray) were Cambridge classics of great fame. Here is the first stanza of Calverley's "Ode to Tobacco:". Thou who, when fears attack, Perching, unseatest; Sweet, when the morn is grey; Sweet, when they've cleared away Lunch; and at close of day Possibly sweetest! Just thus might Horatius Flaccus have conceived an ode" Ad Tobacconem." Calverley never wrote anything, in our opinion, better than the piece called "In the Gloaming;" indeed, there are few better verses of their kind existing than the four which we will quote: In the gloaming to be roaming where the crested waves are foaming, And the shy mermaidens combing locks that ripple to their feet; What the gloaming is I never made the ghost of an endeavor To discover-but whatever were the hour, it would be sweet. Sweet to roam beneath a shady cliff, of course with some young lady, Lalagé, Neæra, Haidee, or Elaine, or Mary Quite apart from the wit and sparkle of the thought, it is a treat to read lines moving, in the phrase of Marvel, "on plumes so strong, so equal, and so soft." Calverley, it ought to be remarked, was not a society poet alone. He was a fine translator; and he was one of the very best of parodists. "The Cock and the Bull," after the manner of "The Ring and the Book" of Mr. Browning, is perhaps the most exquisite piece of mockery in the world. Mortimer Collins had much of Calverley's Horatian finish - when he chose to use it, which was not always. There is not much choicer work in its own line than "A Game of Chess," or "Chloe, M.A. — ad amantem suum." This last an admirable example of Mortimer Collins at his best-it will suit us well, in our comparisons of diverse styles, to call to mind. Judging by the conclusions of the first stanza and of the last, this most persuasive and engaging of girl graduates possessed one tiny fault - no doubt the only one a taste for puns. Shall we add, for the benefit of ladies who are not Chloes in Greek learning, that is pronounced pi? Mortimer Collins, Calverley, and Praed have all three passed away. Let us match them with three poets who are still among us: Mr. Frederick Locker, Mr. Austin Dobson, and Mr. Ashby Sterry. Mr. Locker is, at times, a charming poet. Yet he has some defects which a little mar our pleasure. His verse, which at its best is excellent, is seldom at its best for long together. He has a habit now and then of changing his mood completely, without warning -or passing from the gayest laughter into ecstasies of woe. In the lines "To my Grandmother," for example, the sudden change of view from the young and blooming bride, with her bridal wreath, bouquet, lace farthingale and gay falbala, to the poor old woman waiting for the end, afflicts us with a sense of pain, but nothing more. The pathos has been sprung upon us when we are out of tune with it; we have had no time to quench our laughing humor. The effect, at least to us (and in this we speak only for ourselves) is as if a marriage chime had died into a knell, as if a harlequin had burst into tears, as if a death's-head had grinned suddenly upon our joyous feast. Probably, the first half of the poem was written at a different time, and in a differ |