roots are roasted, the juice is pressed from them, and the noxious qualities removed by heat. They are then washed and scraped clean, and grated into a tub or trough, after this, they are put into a hair bag, to squeeze out the juice. The meal or farine, is dryed in a hot stone bason and then made into cakes. The root also yields a quantity of starch, which the people of Brasil export in small lumps, under the name of tapioca. In Father Labat's tour to the Antilles, there is a more particular account of this plant. The cakes form a principal part of the food of the French negroes; they are mixt in a pottage consisting of yam, sweet-potato, calilu, a vegetable resembling spinage, and a small quantity of salt fish. This is a savoury dish among the blacks; thousands of acres, round the city of St. Pierre, in the island of Martinique, were planted for the purpose of the negroes, before the revolu tion. It resembles millet, and is a very nutritive food, though it has not the appearance of it, and in Anson's voyage it is ridiculed under the name of powder of post.

Descriptive of a Pedestrian Journey to the Falls of Niagara,
In the Autumn of 1803.

By the Author of American Ornithology.

(Continued from Vol. 1, page 544.)

LONG ere the morn had show'd its opening sweets,
We clubb'd our arms and pass'd the silent streets;
Slow o'er the pavement limpingly we tread,

But soon recovering, every ailment fled.

Forward we march, o'er mountains rude and bare,
No decent farm, and even a cabin rare;

Thick wastes of ground oak* o'er the country spread,
While haggard pines sigh dismal overhead.
Lo! the Blue Mountain now in front appears,
And high o'er all its lengthen'd ridge uprears;
Th' inspiring sight redoubled vigour lends,
And soon its steeps each traveller ascends;
Panting we wind aloft, begloom'd in shade,
Mid rocks and mouldering logs tumultuous laid
In wild confusion; till the startled eye

.

Through the cleft mountain meets the pale blue sky
And distant forests; while, sublimely wild,
Tow'rs each tall cliff to heaven's own portals pil'd.
Enormous gap! if Indian tales be true,

Here ancient Delaware once thunder'd through,
And roll'd for ages; till some earthquake dread,
Or huge convulsion shook him from his bed.t

Here under rocks, at distance from the road,
Our pond'rous knapsacks cautiously we stow'd,
The mountain's top determin'd to explore,
And view the tracts already travelled o'er;
As nimble tars the hanging shrouds ascend,
While hands and feet their joint assistance lend;
So we, from rock to rock, from steep to steep,
Scal'd these rude piles, suspended o'er the deep,
Through low dwarf underwood with chesnuts crown'd,
Whose crooked limbs with trailing moss were bound.
Eager we brush th' impending bushes through,
Panting for breath and wet with dashing dew;
Cliff after cliff triumphant we attain,
And high at last its loftiest summit gain;
But such a prospect!—such a glorious show!
The world, in boundless landscape, lay below!
Vast colour'd forests, to our wandering eyes,
Seem'd soften'd gardens of a thousand dyes.

which

• This species of dwarf oak produces great quantities of acorns, the bears, pigeons, grous, jays, &c. are extremely fond of. It grows to the height of about five feet, very close, and affords good shelter for the deer

and bear.

This pass in the Blue Mountain is usually called the Wind Gap. The reader will find some curious conjectures on its formation in Jefferson's Notes on Virginia.

Long lakes appear'd; but at the increase of day
Assum'd new forms, and roll'd in mist away.*
Scoop'd from the woods unnumber'd spots were seen
Embrown'd with culture, or with pasture green;
Some cottage smoke mov'd slow, and dimly white;
But ev'ry hut had dwindled from the sight.
In long trail'd fogs, that all its windings show'd,
For many a league the distant Delaware flow'd;
And all beyond seem'd to the ravished eye,
One waste of woods, encircling earth and sky!
We gaz'd delighted-then, with short delay,
Descending fix'd our loads and march'd away.

From this rough mountain, northward as we bend,
Below us, wide, the woody wilds extend;
The same ground oak o'er all the country lies,
The same burnt pines in lonely prospect rise,
Mute and untenanted; save where the jay
Set up his shrill alarm, and bore away.
One solitary hawk that sail'd serene,
Secure, and eying the expanded scene,
High from his zenith, midst the bursting roar,
Dropt at our feet, and flutter'd in his gore;

Thus falls," said Duncan, "many a son of pride,
"While buoy'd in thought o'er all the world beside."
From these dull woods emerging into day,
We pass where farms their opening fields display,
Barns, fences, cottages, and lawns appear'd,
Where various sounds of human toil were heard;
There, round a hut, upon a sloping green,
Gay laughing bands of playful boys were seen;
Soon, Books! aloud, is thunder'd from the door,
And balls and hoops must charm the hours no more ;
But frequent tears the blotted leaves assail,
And sighs for dear-lov'd liberty prevail.
Thither, by long yet fond remembrance led,
With awe we enter this sequester'd shed;
All eyes are turn'd the strangers to survey,
One tap is heard!-and all the hint obey;
Then grave and courteous, rising from his seat,
The decent Master bows with meekness meet,

* The effect of this deception was really astonishing. Nothing could be more evident to the eye-the shores, the waters, studded with numerous islands, seemed to disappear as if by enchantment.

Invites to sit looks round with watchful eyes,
And bids, by signs, alternate classes rise;

Hears, reads, instructs, with solemn voice and slow,
Deep, busy silence muffling all below;
Slates, pens, and copybooks in order pass,
And peace and industry pervade each class.
Dear to the Muse, to Truth, to Science dear,
Be he who humbly toils and teaches here!
His worth, his labours, shall not sleep forgot,
And thus the Muse records them as she ought.
Of all professions that this world has known,
From clowns and cobblers upwards to the throne;
From the grave architect of Greece and Rome,
Down to the framer of a farthing broom,
The worst for care and undeserv'd abuse,
The first in real dignity and use,

(If skill'd to teach, and diligent to rule)

Is the learn'd master of a little school.
Not he who guides the legs, or skills the clown
To square his fists, and knock his fellow down;
Not he who shows the still more barbarous art
To parry thrusts and pierce the unguarded heart;
But that good man, who, faithful to his charge,
Still toils the opening reason to enlarge;
And leads the growing mind, through every stage,
From humble A, B, C, to God's own page;
From black, rough pothooks, horrid to the sight,
To fairest lines that float o'er purest white;
From NUMERATION, through an opening way,
Till dark ANNUITIES seem clear as day;
Pours o'er the mind a flood of mental light,
Expands its wings, and gives it powers for flight,
Till earth's remotest bounds, and heaven's bright train
He trace, weigh, measure, picture, and explain.

If such his toils, sure honour and regard
And wealth and fame will be his dear reward;
Sure every tongue will utter forth his praise,
And blessings gild the evening of his days?
Yes!-Blest indeed, by cold ungrateful scorp,
With study pale, by daily crosses worn,
Despis'd by those who to his labours owe
All that they read, and almost all they know;
Condemn'd, each tedious day, such cares to bear
As well might drive even Patience to despair;
VOL. II.

The partial parent's taunt-the idler dull-
The blockhead's dark, impenetrable scull-
The endless round of A, B, C's whole train,
Repeated o'er ten thousand times in vain.
Plac'd on a point, the object of each sneer,
His faults enlarge, his merits disappear;
If mild-" Our lazy master loves his ease,
"The boys, at school, do any thing they please."
If rigid-" He's a cross hard-hearted wretch,
"He drives the children stupid with his birch.

My child, with gentle means, will mind a breath;
"But frowns and floggings frighten him to death."
Do as he will, his conduct is arraign'd,

And dear the little that he gets is gain'd;
Ev'n that is given him, on the quarter day,
With looks that call it-money thrown away.
Just Heav'n! who knows the unremitting care
And deep solicitude that teachers share,
If such their fate, by thy divine control,

O give them health and fortitude of soul!
Souls that disdain the murderous tongue of Fame,
And strength, to make the sturdiest of them tame;
Grant this, ye powers! to Dominies distrest,
Their sharp-tail'd hickories will do the rest.
Again the shades of sober eve appear'd,
Up the dark windings of a creek we steer'd,
Where, glad to rest, and each in hungry plight,
In Marewine's humble hut we spent the night.
Our social host piles up a jovial fire,

Brings his best cyder, still as we desire,
Inspects our arms, with nice inquiring gaze,
And while we eat, his hunting spoils displays:
The skins of wolves and bears, a panther's jaws,*
His horrid tusks and life-destroying claws;

This animal, generally, though improperly, called by the above name, is the felis couguar of European writers; and is considered as the most dangerous and formidable inhabitant of our forests on this side of the Ohio. They are still numerous among the mountains of Pennsylvania that border the Susquehanna, and frequently destroy deer, calves, sheep, colts, and sometimes, it is said, horses and cows. They are bold and daring; and lie in wait in the low branches of trees for the deer, on whom they spring with prodigious force, and soon destroy them. The one mentioned above bad seized a