with the ardor which was burning in his bosom. Two skillful engineers had been sent to explore the path, and to do what could be done in the removal of obstructions. They returned with an appalling recital of the apparently insurmountable difficulties of the way. "Is it possible," inquired Napoleon, "to cross the pass?" "Perhaps," was the hesitating reply, "it is within the limits of possibility." "Forward, then," was the energetic response.

High on those craggy steeps, gleaming through the mist, the glittering bands of armed men like phantoms appeared. The eagle wheeled and screamed beneath their feet. The mountain goat, affrighted by the unwonted spectacle, bounded away, and paused in bold relief upon the cliff to gaze upon the martial array which so suddenly had peopled the solitude. When they approached any spot of very especial difficulty the trumpets sounded the charge, which re-echoed, with sublime reverberations, from pinnacle to pinnacle of rock and ice. Animated by these bugle notes, the soldiers strained every nerve as if rushing upon the foe.

When they arrived at the summit, each soldier found, to his surprise and joy, the abundant comforts which Napoleon's care had provided. One would have anticipated there a scene of terrible confusion. To feed an army of forty thousand hungry men is not a light undertaking. Yet everything was so carefully arranged, and the influence of Napoleon so boundless, that not a soldier left the ranks. Each man received his slice of bread and cheese, and quaffed his cup of wine, and passed on. It was a point of honor for no one to stop. Whatever obstructions were in the way were to be at all hazards surmounted, that the long file, extending nearly twenty miles, might not be thrown into confusion. The descent was more perilous than the ascent. But fortune seemed to smile. The sky was clear, the weather delightful, and in four days the whole army was reassembled on the plains of Italy. J. S. C. ABBOTT.

CLXVI. THANATOPSIS.

To him who, in the love of Nature, holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language: for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty; and she glides
Into his darker musings with a mild
And gentle sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness êre he is aware. When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight

Over thy spirit, and sad images

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart-
Go forth under the open sky, and list

To nature's teachings; while from all around—
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air--
Comes a still voice. Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more

In all his course: nor yet in the cold ground
Where thy pale form was laid with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist

Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again;
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go

To mix for ever with the elements-
To be a brother to the insensible rock

And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his °share, and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould,

Yet not to thy eternal resting-place

Shalt thou retire alone,-nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world--with kings
The powerful of the earth, the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hōary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulcher. The hills,
"Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun; the vales,
Stretching in pensive quietness between ;

The venerable woods; rivers that move

In majesty, and the complaining brooks

That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,—

Are but the solemn decorations all

Of the great tomb of man!

The golden sun,

The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,

Are shining on the sad abodes of death

Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom.-Take the wings

Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods

Whêre rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound
Save his own dashings-yet-the dead are there :
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep-the dead reign there alone.

So shalt thou rest. And what if thou withdraw
In silence from the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glides away, the sons of men-

The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid,
And the sweet babe, and the gray-headed man-
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side
By those, who in their turn shall follow them.

So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves

To that mysterious realm, where each shall take

His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night,

Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

W. C. BRYANT.

CLXVII.-BURNING PRAIRIE.

'WELL, then, you say you have seen the prairies on fire?"—"Yes," -"You have seen the fire on the mountains, and beheld it feebly creeping over the grassy hills of the North, where the toad and the timid snail were pacing from its approach; all this you have seen, and who has not? But who has seen the vivid lightnings and heard the roaring thunder of the rolling conflagration which sweeps over the deep-clad prairies of the West? Who has dashed on his wild horse, through an ocean of grass, with the raging tempest at his back, rolling

over the land its swelling waves of liquid fire ?"—"What !"—" Ay, even so. Ask the red savage of the wilds what is awful and sublime. Ask him where the Great Spirit has mixed up all the elements of death, and if he does not blow them over the land in a storm of fire. Ask him what foe he has met that regarded not his frightening yells or his sinewy bow. Ask these lords of the land, who väuntingly challenge the thunder and lightning of heaven, whether there is not one foe who travels over their land too swift for their feet and too mighty for their strength, at whose approach their stout hearts sicken and their strong-armed courage withers to nothing." I said to my comrades, as we were about to descend the towering bluffs into the prairie, "We will take that buffalo trail, where the traveling herds have slashed down the high grass; and making for that blue point, rising, as you can just discern, above this ocean of grass, a good day's work will bring us over this vast meadow before sunset." We entered the trail and slowly progres'sed on our way, being obliged to follow the winding paths of the buffaloes, for the grass was higher than the backs of our horses. Soon after we entered, my Indian guide dismounted slowly from his horse, and lying prostrate on the ground with his face in the dirt, he cried, and was talking to the spirits of the brave. 'For," said he, “over this beautiful plain dwells the spirit of fire! he rides in yõnder cloud; his face blackens with rage at the sound of trampling hoofs; the fire-bow is in his hand; he draws it across the path of the Indian, and quicker than lightning a thousand flames rise to destroy him; such is the talk of my fathers, and the ground is whitened with their bones.

"It was here," said he, "that the brave son of Wah-chee-ton, and the strong-armed warriors of his band, just twelve moons since, licked the fire from the blazing wand of that great magician. Their pointed spears were drawn upon the backs of the treacherous Sioux, whose swifter flying horses led them in vain to the midst of this valley of death. A circular cloud sprang up from the prairie around them! it was raised, and their doom was fixed by the spirit of fire! It was on this vast plain of fire grass, that waves over our heads, that the swift foot of Mah-to-ga was laid. It is here, also, that the fleetbounding wild horse mingles his bones with the red man, and the eagle's wing is melted as he darts over its surface. Friends! it is the season of fire; and I fear, from the smell of the wind, that the spirit is awake!" Pah-me-o-ne-qua (Red Thunder) said no more, but mounted his wild horse, and, waving his hand, his red shoulders were seen rapidly vanishing as he glided through the thick mazes of waving grass. We were on his trail, and busily traced him until the mid-day sun had brought us to the ground, with our refreshments spread before us. He partook of them not, but stood like a statue, while his black eyes in sullen silence swept the horizon round; and

then, with a deep-drawn sigh, he gracefully sunk to the earth, and lay with his face to the ground. Our buffalo tongues, and "pemmican, and marrow-fat were spread before us; and we were in the full enjoyment of these dainties of the Western world, when, quicker than the frightened elk, our Indian friend sprang upon his feet. His eyes skimmed again slowly over the prairie's surface, and he laid himself as before on the ground.

Red Thunder was on his feet. His long arm was stretched over the grass, and his blazing eyeballs starting from their sockets. "White man," (said he), "see ye that small cloud lifting itself from the prairie? He rises! the hoofs of our horses have waked him! The Fire Spirit is awake; this wind is from his nostrils, and his face is this way!" No more; but his swift horse darted under him, and he.gracefully slid over the waving grass as it was bent by the wind. Our viands were left, and we were swift on his trail. The extraordinary leaps of his wild horse occasionally raised his red shoulders to view, and he sank again in the waving billows of the grass. The tremulous wind was hurrying by us fast, and on it was borne the agitated wing of the soaring eagle. His neck was stretched for the towering bluff, and the thrilling screams of his voice told the secret that was behind him.

The sun

Our horses were swift, and we struggled hard; yet hope was feeble, for the bluff was yet blue, and nature nearly exhausted. shine was dying, and a cool shadow advancing over the plain. Not daring to look back, we strained every nerve. The roar of a distant cataract seemed gradually advancing on us; the winds increased, the howling tempest was maddening behind us, and the swift-winged beetle and heath-hen instinctively drew their straight lines over our heads. The fleet-bounding antelope passed us also; and the still swifter long-legged hâre, who leaves but a shadow as he flies. Here was no time for thought; but I recollect the heavens were overcast, the distant thunder was heard, the lightning's glare was reddening the scene, and the smell that came on the winds struck terror to my soul. The piercing yell of my savage guide at this moment came back upon the winds; his robe was seen waving in the air, and his foaming horse leaping up the towering bluffs. Our breath and our sinews, in this last struggle for life, were just enough to bring us to its summit. We had risen from a sea of fire! Great God!" I exclaimed, "how sublime to gaze into that valley, where the elements of nature are so strangely convulsed!" Ask not the poet or painter how it looked, for they cannot tell you; but ask the naked savage, and watch the electric twinge of his manly nerves and muscles as he pronounces the lengthened hush-sh! his hand on his mouth, and his glaring eyeballs looking you to the very soul. I beheld beneath me an immense cloud of black smoke, which extended from one extrem

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