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34 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