me, and, waving her magic wand around my head, ask me, out of pure politeness, into what animal or shape I would be metamorphosed, I would unhesitatingly ask her ladyship to convert me into a frog, and put me in the Dismal ! Oh, those frogs! Would I could understand their language! Evidently they do not like intrusion; for sometimes when the varied noises would nearly sink into comparative repose, when A LAKE DWELLING. sentimental frogs were gazing at the moon in blissful reverie, our approach would break in upon their privacy, and then such a tremendous uproar would be invoked as made us quake in our boots. Tiny voices squeaked; vixenish shrill voices of waspish wives; the hoarse expostulatory tones of the old patriarchs who resented the intrusion; fierce, abrupt voices of the town's guardians, who, like our city police, were as mad as hornets at being roused from midnight naps; quavering voices of wandering lovers, who had evidently been sitting up long after the old parent frogs had retired to rest, and who were, no doubt, afraid all this turmoil would waken the old folks and bring the house over their ears; thick, confused voices of young frogs, who had been taking too many drinks, one and all they opened their vials of wrath in abuse, vituperation, expostulation, warning, reproach, insult, and denunciation enough to have turned our heads gray, could we have comprehended. But it was getting late, and insects were coming out in too great force, so Bob turned his canoe back to the shanty, which, in a few minutes, we covered with enough green boughs to make it musquitoproof, and in a shorter time than it takes to write it we were fast asleep. Bob's snores kept rhythmical time to the song of the frogs, and made no mean chorus to their lullaby. The next morning the explorations were continued. In the evening we crossed the lake and visited the only inhabited house in the vicinity. Inhabited, did we say? We should rather think it was! This establishment stands a few hundred yards back of the lake, built upon ground artificially formed. Two families were residents of the cabin, and were of that kind known as "low-downers," utterly ignorant and illiterate. They were the hardest set to look at we ever stumbled across in a life-time's wanderings. The Maison de Doree was a shanty after the order of the Irishman's-three rooms in one: parlor, bedroom, and hall. Into this apartment all crowded and slept; and there were more pigs, cats, babies, and dogs in one habitation than an uninitiated man could have deemed possible. The pigs were the cleanest of the whole caravansary, the cats the most aggressive, and the babies the loudest and dirtiest of all. Fortunately we had brought hammocks. Swinging them outside, we lay and watched the domestic concerns of this happy family who had lived all their lives in the Dismal Swamp and known no other. There were five women (it is well to be particular, since the census-taker of this district might have omitted this much of his duty), one boy, sixteen children of all colors and sizes, thirteen sucking pigs, five dogs, ten puppies, four cats (three tabbies and a tom), two litters of kittens, five dissipated-looking ducks, three hens, a melancholy-looking rooster, one sociable sow, and ninety million musquitoes. Between the fowl, the flesh, and the family there was perfect equality; all mixed together and seemed to enjoy life and one another's society amazingly. None of them were proud. A Our guide brought our provisions from the boat, and got the household to serve up supper. table was set under a shed. There were only two knives and one fork in the whole establishment. Our eating was the signal for an incipient bread riot. Two of the largest children watched the table with sticks-not to keep away the flies, but to beat off the rest of the brute family. The discord was deafening; the sow grunted, the pigs squealed, the dogs barked, the babies yelled, the cats fought, spit, and clawed, the women scolded, and all united in one infernal uproar that resounded through the swamp, and must have scared many a bear from his lair. When supper was finished, the night was well advanced; the great northern bear had risen high in the sky, still pointing true to the polar star. The musquitoes were in uncounted millions; they came armies on armies, waves upon waves, clouds upon clouds, and charged in platoons, in serried line, and single file, and threw themselves, with bloodthirsty voracity, upon every living thing in reach. It was useless to brush them off; like the Mamelukes at Abouka, repulsed at one point, they would reform and charge again. At last the whole family beat a retreat inside, carrying Bob as guest with them, and the cry went up, "Hold the fort!" Inside our hammocks, our faces covered with our linen dusters, we lay as secure from persistent bills as a new bankrupt debtor from the importunities of his creditors. "Sleep, balmy sleep, that knits up the raveled sleeve of care,' fell over the scene, and pressed our wearied eyelids down. We were aroused by our guide. "I would liefer be in h- -1 as stay in that thar cabin thar. I'm d-d if all them animals and 'skeeters ain't too much for me! Bin all over the world, and never seed sich life befo'. And it's hot in thar ! Whew!" "Why don't you row into the middle of the lake and sleep in the canoe ?" we asked, with absolute commiseration. ،، "'Cause it 'pears like it was goin' to storm, and I don't keer to drown. S'pose, though, I kin walk about till day if the 'skeeters don't carry me off! Spec's one of 'em will put me on its back and fly away, nohow." "What blood can they get out of you, Bob? Tell us that." "Don't know! After my dinner, I reckon, and then they'll suck my bones, if I lets 'em. Reckon I be right fat but for the 'skeeters and chills. Jus' look at 'em. Won't come here agin' for no money, I swar !" And Bob walks off, as we resume our slumbers. The hours passed on, the sun came out, and with it the inmates of the cabin. We watched narrowly to see if any of them would make morning ablutions, as the canal was but a single step from the door. But water was a superfluity with them, and of no use, except to drink. We determined that something should be clean, so we pitched two pigs and a cat in the canal, and the manner in which they paddled out showed it to be their first experience in water. Good always comes out of Nazareth; and even this dirt-encrusted, densely ignorant, and lazy people had two sterling virtues,-hospitality and honesty,-which are, after all, highest in the human calendar, and one more than Diogenes possessed. After we had left, one of the women paddled half a mile down the lake to return a pair of shoes that had been forgotten. Leaving Lake Drummond just as the sun rose above the lofty trees that rimmed its boundaries, we turned for a last glance. The waters lay now still, calm, and peaceful, as they will rest forever. The sunbeams were tinging them until they glowed like opal and ruby in settings of jet. Yes, it was "I can't stand this here thing, nohow!" he an exquisite picture-one that will ever linger in was saying emphatically. "What is the matter?" we exclaimed, starting up and rubbing our eyes, yet half asleep. memory! We were charmed to have seen it, but a thousand times more charmed to relegate it to its brooding solitude. LORA. BY PAUL PASTNOR. SEVENTH MOVEMENT.-DREAMS FULFILLED. SULTRY and still grew the air of the bright autumn noontide. Poised in desire, like the pen of a pondering poet! Yielding, like languorous maids, to his lusty caresses- Hark! in yon copse is the breeze from its slumber awaking? From the thick copse peered the glorious head of a pointer, beauty, Wizard of woodlands, foreknowing their deep-hidden secrets! Even as flew the last twig from the hand of the sportsman, Loud rang the forest, and smoke drifted up through the Checked was the woodcock's swift flight, and he fell long Fell with a splash in the rushes, where Lora was sinking. "Bend toward the shore, as I pass, and with both hands This trailing belt; it will float on the top of the water." Eagerly Lora stretched out both her hands toward the Seized on the swift-gliding belt, and bent forward to follow. Then, as she leaped from her lover, half sunk in the slimedepths (Pardon the life-loving maiden!), she pressed forth a gurgle! Quite to the reeds had Luke Gleason's strong impulse propelled him, Had not the strain on the belt drawn him back toward the maiden. But in the meantime the pointer had plunged through the rushes, Launched in the pool, and beside his loved master was Gladly the young man extended one hand to the collar Gleason climbed carefully out, and then drew up the maiden; Then they crept out through the rushes, and came to the Lora was safe, but half fainting with cold and exhaustion. Hastily then the young man brought his thick huntingjacket, Wrapped it around her, and buttoned it, button by button; Ran the sweet scale, from the lowermost unto the uppermost, Till, 'neath her soft, shapely chin, he made fast the high collar. Meanwhile, the sportsman came down to the rim of the Meanwhile, the spirited gelding of Oliver Bascom, rushes Saw, in the midst of the slime-pit, the toll-keeper's daughter! Put off his coat and his cap and his shoes in a moment, Till he came quite to the edge of the dark, open slime-pit. bling, Weary with waiting, and chafed by the sun sloping westward, answer. Long paid Luke Gleason no heed to the querulous summons; Gently he lifted the maid, who had swooned in her weak- Bore her away through the deep, silent glades of the woodland, As in a dream, with the face of his heart's idol resting Soon, through a gap in the branches, he saw a head tossing, Just then the young man emerged from the depths of the Wondering and wild fell the eyes of the gelding upon him; Then the proud steed tossed his head, and neighed loudly in welcome. Lora awoke, but stirred not in the arms of Luke Gleason; Carefully lifting her into the carriage, and righting Lightning flashed forth from the stones in the road-bed beneath them; Dense clouds of dust from the wheels floated over the pas tures. Thus as they swept toward the roof of the low-lying tavern, Whereupon Lora remembered her dream of the morning,- So, then, it happened that Lora was tearlessly riding, WAS AMERICA KNOWN TO THE ANCIENTS? THIS is one of those unsettled questions which has long fascinated the student of history, and to which, perhaps, no answer can be given that to all minds would be satisfactory. The question itself will need to be modified in discussion, as neither an absolute affirmative nor an absolute negative answer would be warranted by the facts. The existence of the continent may have been known to one nation, while others were entirely ignorant of it; and it might have been known at one period, and afterward all definite knowledge of its existence have perished. The existence of this continent was not known to the same degree as that of the British Islands by repeated visits of the writers or their countrymen,-that is always conceded, but the question we have before us is, whether sufficient mention has been made by ancient writers to lead us to believe that their knowledge, traditional as it was, was derived from actual visits by any navigators, or was merely a vague dream of other lands on this earth, as they might have speculated on life on another planet. The first thought which naturally arises in one's mind on considering this question is, that if the ancient writers did have a knowledge of the existVOL. XVII.—2 ence of this continent, it would certainly appear On century. Time was when malleable glass was manufactured, when bronze was hardened so as to rival the best steel of Sheffield, when painters knew how to make their pigments almost imperishable, but the knowledge of these processes was lost in the vicissitudes of wars and dying out of nations. Is it any more wonderful that the tradition of trans-oceanic countries (for it was only tradition among the Greeks) should be remanded to the realm of myth and fable? be unfavorably affected, but the Carthaginian it was utterly forgotten until the close of the last empire itself suffer injury, and the dominion of the sea be wrested from their hands. And so they issued a decree that no one, under penalty of death, should thereafter sail thither; and lest the peril so much to be feared should be brought upon them by those already in occupation of this land, they either expelled or put to death all such as they could lay hold of." However, as this discovery was too great an acquisition to human knowledge, and too grand an element in human destiny to be entirely suppressed, the report of it did somehow transpire, and find its way to Greek schools of philosophy and the pages of the poet. If Herodotus, Aristotle, Strabo, and Pliny say so little or nothing on so important a portion of the earth's surface, ignorance may not have been the sole motive for their reticence. To tell the Greeks, who scarcely dare venture out of sight of land, of a country at the distance of forty days' sail from their homes, across an ocean overshadowed with darkness and whelmed with storms, as their mariners reported and their poets sung, would have been a useless waste of learning. But then these writers were not altogether silent on the subject; their testimony, however, will be introduced later, while at present we notice another objection which may be offered. This is, that if the knowledge of so great a fact once existed among men who wrote books, it would not have been lost. So far as this knowledge was committed to the books, it has not been lost, excepting what may have been destroyed in the burning of the Alexandrian library. But that oral or traditional knowledge, when not made use of in daily employment, may readily be lost, we have already seen in its summary suppression by the Carthaginian senate. Another notable instance is the discovery of New England by the Northmen in the tenth century, 985 (Humboldt, "Histoire du nouveau monde,” vol. 1), when even repeated voyages and attempts at a settlement by the same people were made and all record of them buried in oblivion for eight hundred years, until Rafn, scholar and antiquarian, discovered the narrative of the event in long-forgotten MSS. The visit of the Welsh under Madoc in the twelfth century, 1170 (Humboldt, "Hist.," etc., vol. 1; also Powell's "History of Wales," London Chronicle, 1777; and Williams's "Enquiry"), appears too well-established also to doubt its authenticity, but Another objection may occur to some minds: it is that there were then no vessels of sufficient size to survive the storms of the Atlantic passage. There is no real ground, however, to doubt the capacity or strength of the vessels of Tyre, Carthage, Greece, or Rome to do this. Their track in any case would not be that of our ocean steamers in the North Atlantic, but first southwesterly, touching at the Madeiras and the Azores, and then across the gulf stream by the trade-winds and mild weather to the West Indies. Besides, as a matter of fact, as we learn from the Periplus ascribed to Scylax, the Carthaginians carried their trading voyages by the Atlantic around the Cape of Good Hope, and brought back the spices of Borneo and Sumatra and the riches of India. To the north they loaded their vessels with tin from the mines of Cornwall. And the same may be said, and more emphatically, perhaps, of Tyre. "The Tyrian flag floated simultaneously in the British and the Indian seas" (Humboldt, "Cosmos," vol. 2). For navigators so enterprising the only wonder would be if neither accident nor design led them at some time in their wanderings to our shores. And now let us summon our witnesses and decide if their testimony will not warrant more than a Scotch verdict upon the question. 1, 2. Homer, in the Odyssey (Book I., 22-25), says: "But he (Neptune) had gone to the Ethiopians who dwell afar off (the Ethiopians who are divided into two parts, the most distant of men, some at the setting of the sun, others at the rising), in order to obtain a hecatomb of bulls and lambs." The ordinary explanation of this is, that Homer referred to the Ethiopians as dwelling on the east and west banks of the Nile. All of the African continent known to Homer, however, was the two divisions of Egypt and Lybia, embracing all the northern portion from the Red Sea to the Atlantic, and |