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mind, and were the tormenting spirits which
in his fever heat, rose up before him. Ere
they expected it, his scholars one morning,
found him dead in his bed.
So was this man, thereby, first truly great,
when he felt himself so humble, in the pres
ence of the heavenly Raphael. The Genius
of his Art, has long since consecrated him,
and surrounded his head with the radiant
crown due to him, as a genuine martyr to the
enthusiasm of art.
The foregoing narrative of the death of
Francisco Francia was transmitted to us
by old Vasari, in whom the spirit of the fa
thers of art still breathed.
Athens , Ga.
ficgcntrs of t!)c Heir Ulcn.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
LEGENDS OF MACKINAW.
BY CHARLES LAN MAN.
The original Indian name of this island,
was Mich-il-i-mack-i-nack, signifying the
Mammoth Turtle. It is a beautiful spot of
earth, and its origin is accounted for, by the
following Chippeway Legend:
When the world was in its infancy, and
all the living creatures were wandering over
its surface from their several birth-places, for
a permanent home, it so happened that a mul
titude of turtles came to the Southern shore
of lake Erie. They found the country gene
rally level, and were delighted with the mud
dy waters of the lake, and also with the
many stagnant rivers and ponds which they
discovered in its vicinity. But while the race
were generally satisfied with their discove
ries, and willing to remain where they were,
the mammoth leader of the multitude resolved
upon extending his journey to the north. He
was allured to this undertaking, by a strange
light oi exceeding loveliness, (supposed to be
the Aurora Borealis,) which he had frequent
ly observed covering the horizon. He en
deavored to obtain a few companions for his
intended pilgrimage, but without success. —
This disappointment did not dishearten him
however, and as he remembered that the sum
mer was only half gone, he determined to de
part alone. Long and very circuitous was
his journay, and many, beautiful and lonely,
the bayous and swamps where he frequently
tarried to rest himself and obtain refreshment.
Summer, and nearly the whole of autumn
were now passed, and the travelling Turtle
found himself on a point of land which par
tially divided the two lakes of Huron and
Michigan. Already he had been numbed by
chilly winds, but his ambition was so great
that he still persisted in his foolish pilgrimage.
The day on which he made his final launch
upon the waters, was particularly cold and
desolate, and it so happened that in the course
of a few days his career was stopped by the
formation of an icy barrier, which deprived
him of life and left him a little black spot on
the waste of frozen waters.
Spring returned once more, but while the
ice gradually dissolved itself into beautiful
blue w r aves, the shell of the turtle was fast
ened to a marine plant or tall reed, and in
process of time became an island, which the
Indians appropriately named Mich-il-i-mack
i-nack, or the mammoth Turtle.
The individual from whom I obtained the
above story, was a Chippeway Indian; and
he told it to me as we sat together on the
brow of the arched rock, which has from time
immemorial, been considered the principal nat
ural curiosity of Mackinaw. The following
legend I obtained from the same source, and,
like the majority of Indian stories, it is un
couth and unnatural; but interesting for the
reason that it bears a curious analogy to a
•certain passage in the old Testament. But
this remark is applicable, I believe, to the
Ba BIT £ IB & IBS&SIB'IMFB.
early traditions of nearly all the aboriginal
nations of North America. But to the tradi
tion :
Very many winters ago, the sun was regu
larly in the habit of performing his daily cir
cuit across the heavens, and when the stars
made their appearance in the sky, he invaria
bly descended into an immense hole, sup
posed to be located in the remote West. But
in process of time, it so happened, that a chief
of the Chippeways committed an unheard of
crime against the person of his only daughter,
and the Master of Life became so offended,
that he caused a mighty wind to come upon
the earth, whereby the rocky hills were made
to tremble, and the waters which surrounded
them to roar with a dreadful noise. During
this state of things, which lasted for one whole
day, the sun shot through the heavens with
an unsteady motion, and when it had reached
the zenith, suddenly became fixed, as if as
tonished at the Red Man’s wickedness. All
the people of the Chippeway nation were
greatly alarmed at this phenomenon, and
while they were gazing upon the luminary,
it gradually changed into the color of blood,
and with a dreadful noise, as if in passion, it
fell upon the earth. It struck the northern
shore of Mackinaw, formed the cavity of the
Arched Rock, and so entered the earth, from
which it issued in the far east, at an early
hour on the following morning, and then re
sumed its usual journey across the heavens.
Many, very many winters have passed
away since the last mentioned incident oc
curred, and it is true that even the present
race of Indians can seldom be persuaded to
approach the brow of the Arched Rock.—
Never have I heard of one who was suffi
ciently bold to walk over the A*ch, though
the feat might be easily accomplished by any
man with a steady nerve. The shores of the
island of Mackinaw are almost entirely ab
rupt —and their general altitude is about one
hundred and fifty feet; but the summit of the
Arched Rock has been estimated to be at least
two hundred feet above the water. In con
nection with the above stories, I might intro
duce a description of the island they commem
orate, but such a description has already been
published in my “ Summer in the Wilderness.”
®l)c <£soct2ist.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
LEAVES FROM MY SCRAP-BOOK.
BY T. W. LANE.
NON DISPUTANDUM DE GUSTIBUS.
In the market at Athens, a painter once placed
A picture of his, and beneath it he traced
A request that the people, sometime in the day.
When convenient, at least, before going away,
Would each mark with a brush such portions as he
Deemed faulty, or not with his taste to agree;
Would efface from the canvas each trifling defect
That injured its beauty, or spoiled its effect.
The people first stared —then, with pencil and brush,
Flocked round the poor picture ; in short, such a rush
There never was seen—legs, feet, mouth and nose
Were effaced, and black eyes soon given by blows
Os the paint-brush—the artist remaining the while
With a quivering lip, vainly trying to smile.
—Next day, in the market the same artist placed
Another fine painting, and under it traced
The following words: “ With pencil and paint—
Which each may employ without fear or restraint —
Please mark out the beauties, if any are found
In the picture before you, from the sky to th’ ground.”
Again round the picture the people all crowded ;
Some the trees, some the sky, the clouds some ap
plauded ;
And the artist, approaching the picture at night,
Had the pleasure of seeing in similar plight
With the picture of yesterday, that of to-day,
And returned to his study quite cheerful and g&y.
’ MORAL.
This anecdote teaches the difference of ta3te,
About which, says Horace, “ it is a great waste
Os time and of trouble to dispute or to wrangle.”
For the louder we talk the more do wo tangle
The question. The low-bred will drink only gin,
The “Upper ten thousand” choose nothing but
wine:
A squaw will despise e’en the finest formed bustle,
And turn up her nose at a silk-dress’ rustle;
While a belle’s sure to laugh at the wampum and
beads
That charm and delight the wild nymph of the
meads;
Gilt buttons please dandies, and gay coats of blue,
While, to gentlemen, black’s the respectable hue.
Every one to their taste, as the old woman said,
When she swallowed the ars’nic and popped into bed.
ALBUMS.
The dullest book, the most prosaic poetry,
and unsentimental sentiment are to be found
in that every-day volume, “The Young La
dy’s Album.” It is the great organ of the
love of sentimental young men, the grand
trumpeter of its owner’s beauty, amiability,
gracefulness and wit. It is a whited sepul
chre, fair without, but full of murdered rhyme,
of sickly sighs, and dying hopes, and the gold
and morocco with which it is adorned, like
jewels upon a corpse, but serve to set off the
ghastliness of its contents; it is a bubble, re
splendent with all the hues of the rainbow,
tempting you to grasp it, but deceiving you
with its nothingness —it is the great recepta
cle of all the froth and scum of young gen
tlemen’s brains, and the place where they per
jure themselves, by writing what they neither
feel nor believe. A young lady with an al
bumatic disposition is one of the greatest bores
that annoy good society —she carries her Al
bum with her wherever she goes, sticks it un
der your nose on the most inopportune occa
sions, and while she begs of you a few lines
for holy friendship’s sake, ridicules those of
her friend who wrote the last, leaving you in
pleasing anticipation of the same fate. It of
ten happens that these tablets, whereon Love
and Friendship record their vows, are present
ed when you are not exactly “ ithe vein but
this of all circumstances is considered the
most trivial, and you are compelled to say
something when you have nothing to say. —
The owner of the Album may be crosser than
Xantippe, but you are bound to declare her a
pattern of amiability—she may possess a hid
eous countenance, but you must speak of the
angelic beauty of her lovely face, and though
you may wish her at the North Pole or the
Equator, you are required to lament the mo
ment when parting must be made, and to say
that Farewell is a hard word.
tJGHT AND SHADE
The first ray of light that falls upon an au
thor’s path, is the publication of his first ef
fort, and the first shadow that darkens it, is a
rough handling by some merciless editor, or
ferocious critic.
THE COQUETTE
Os all the characters in the community who
deserve our censure, no one more richly mer
its it than the Coquette. She who lies in
wait upon the highway of love, and skilfully
spreads her toils to entrap young hearts that
stray in their innocence along the path, deals
a wider and deeper destruction, than the rob
ber who demands our money or our life.—
Men value their affections much higher than
their gold, and would infinitely prefer tossing
their purses into thp sea, to having the high
est hopes and purest affections of the heart,
blighted and withered forever; and could
such cases come within the jurisdiction of
human courts, there would be as much jus
tice in swinging upon the gibbet, as an ex
ample to mankind, the Coquette, as the rob
ber. The robber may be tempted to the act
by sudden want, or he may depart from the
path of virtue in an evil hour, but no. other
motive than an insatiate thirst for power, can
actuate the Coquette.
MODERN DEFINITIONS.
Editorial Courtesy.— -You tickle me, and
I’ll tickle you.
Public Opinion. —The opinion of the edi
tor’s bosom friend, pluralixed and published
in his newspaper.
French. —A difficult language to pronounce,
extensively taught in fashionable boarding
schools for accelerating the movements of the
female tongue, and thereby increasing the
faculty of curtain-lecturing.
Woman. —A revised, illuminated edition of
man, bound in muslin or satin, wilh gilt edges.
Dandy. —A poor devil who is compelled to
dodge comers, to free himself from the perse
cution of tailors and constables, and who is
denied the privilege granted to the rest of the
world, of being measured according to the
fineness and cut of his coat,
Dark Ages. —The times of steel forks.
Brass. —A word formerly applied to a kind
of metal —the modern definition is self-confi
dence.
Swearing. —A scape-pipe through which
men let off their anger, their good-breeding
and their morality.
“ Silent Contempt .”—An ingenious subter
fuge, by which men gain much credit where
they deserve none.
Bitters. —A medicine much used by old
gentlemen on frosty mornings, to keep out the
cold, and at mid-day in summer, to keep out
the heat. It produces an effect similar to sea
sickness, and causes also an apparent absent
mindedness and don’t-know-which-end-you
stand-upon-ativeness. Guttersare filled,wives
made black and blue, and furniture demolished
by its influence.
Kissing. —A barbarous practice first insti
tuted by Judas, whereby much sweet oint
ment is wasted.
Shaving. —An operation performed by
young gentlemen, tending to promote the
growth of the beard.
Skctd)Co of £ifc.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
THE LISTENER.,..NO, 11.
NOT BY CAROLINE FRY.
THE STORY OF HELEN CONWAY.
Once, in my character of Listener, I found
myself in a large boarding-school. Around
me were gathered more than a hundred young
girls, many of them of my own age, for 1 had
been placed there for other purposes than lis
tening : these happy creatures were therefore
my companions—some of them, dear friends
whom I love to this day—though many years
have elapsed since I parted from them, and
some of the best and dearest of them are sep
arated from me by pathless seas. I was very
young when placed in their midst, and was
hundreds of miles from the home of my child
hood; it was not strange, then, that I was lonely
and sick-hearted, for tasks were set me which
frightened and discouraged me. 1 thought
that in,all that assembly no “ kindly beaming
eye” fell on the little stranger to cheer her and
inspire her with a hope of happiness in the
future. All around me were busily intent on
arrangements for themselves for the opening
term, or greetings were being exchanged be
tween old scholars, separated during the long
vacations, and merry voices gave utterance to
merry hearts; —the very teachers seemed to
speak to others more winningly than to me.
At length my tasks were apportioned me,
and I was permitted to withdraw. The up
per piazza of the seminary overlooked a live
ly little stream, which gleamed before us a
moment in the sunshine, and then went sing
ing its sweet song through the shady woods
which skirted the village. Its beauty arrest
ed my gaze, but not my thoughts: they were
too sad to be won by an appeal to the eye on
ly, and soon the tears came trickling down
my cheek, and a sob told my wretchedness.
At this moment a gentle step aroused me, and
an arm was passed over my shoulder, while
a soft voice said to me :
“ Little friend, why do you weep ? There
is an old Arabic proverb which says: 4 Run
ning waters make the heart glad,’ and can