cane upon Mr. Samuel Knox, in Camp-street; Knox took the cane from his assailant, and with it beat him; and while so doing Daussat drew a pistol, which he discharged at Knox. The ball took effect, passing through the neck of Knox; the wound is considered dangerous. The assailant, Daussat, was almost immediately arrested."

An affray took place in a neighbouring State between a senator and a high official character, both, of course, from their stations, very popular individuals; and, as I have before observed, among the chief qualifications for such a distinction, they possessed strength and boldness. As leaders of different parties, they had reflected on each other, were known to be mortal enemies, and a desperate rencontre was hourly expected. At length they met about noon, in the most public street of the town of - -, and happy were those who were at hand at the time. The senator, who was on horseback, observing his antagonist approaching on foot, dismounted, and rushing to meet the official, discharged his pistol, and wounded him. They then closed, and the wounded man bit off a joint of the senator's fore-finger: after which they were separated, without further damage. They are still rivals, and still meet in public, but hold no verbal communications, and avoid all allusions to each other. But such a fight is manly compared to others: for instance. - A young man who had been grossly insulted by another (who, however, offered apologies, which were rejected) watched for an opportunity, which he obtained, for entering a coffee-room, and observing the other sitting with his back to him, smoking a cigar, he took up a decanter of liquor off the counter, and smashed it on the head of the unguarded smoker, who, however, had intended to keep a sharp look-out. He then bestrode the prostrate man, and grasping a handful of his hair on each temple, he thrust a thumb into each of his eyes; which the other, who soon came to his senses, endeavoured to protect with both his hands. The assailant had several friends, who stood by, and would allow no interference; but I do not believe that he wished himself to complete the gouging, though he wanted to make the other beg for mercy. However, on the by-standers crying out" Enough," he suffered himself to be taken away; and I assisted in his removal. I speak of American gentlemen!

An acquaintance of mine had been cow-hided by a hot-headed blockhead, a friend of his, who had taken offence at a silly joke, unnecessary to mention; and who, as usual on occasions of violence, had taken the precaution to be surrounded by his friends, for the purpose of preventing immediate retaliation. Every one believed that a speedy and deadly vengeance would be taken; and a pretty general surprise arose, when, after some days, it was found that the captain had taken his departure unhurt. Some said that Mr. had no pluck; others hinted that he could "'bide his time; but he told me himself "That no favourable opportunity had offered-that, one morning, being informed that Captain- had gone down town, he pursued him, but seeing his wife leaning on his arm he could not do that which he had intended." Some would not have been so scrupulous; however, he acted wisely, for to have shot a man in the presence of his wife, though it might have been palliated by his friends, would have generally been injurious to him, even among Americans. However, vengeance may yet fall when least expected. In such a state of society I wonder that men do not contrive to have a small looking-glass suspended before one eye, to reflect objects advancing on their rear, whilst with the other optic they reconnoitre the front and flanks.

Having mentioned rail-riding, I will give an explanation of the term, not being aware of any publication in which it is to be found. Rail-riding is an humble branch of Lynch-law, which holds a proportion to its parent stock, in about the same ratio as that which a Court of Requests holds to a Court of Chancery. An individual becomes obnoxious to a few in a confined circle; a sister has complained to a brother of his rudeness-perhaps indifference;

or he has bullied some one who fears singly to resent it, so the small knot of friends send him a notice to quit by a certain hour. Should he disregard this, the next step is to mount him on a rail, and to half carry, half drag him through the streets, and out of town. After this come tarring and feathering, scourging, ducking, shooting, and hanging.

The conversation of Americans relates much less to intellectual subjects than that of Europeans, and much more to corporeal. Political, theological, and legal matters are, indeed, sufficiently prominent; but when they are exhausted, and it becomes necessary to choose a fancy topic, they do not enter upon science and the belles lettres: no; personal strength, whipping, hitting a mark with a ball, wounding, maiming, or carving, are most eagerly discussed.

"I say, Joe, I can whip you."

"No; I'll be God-d--d if you can."

I'll be God-d-d to h-1 if I can't."

"I whipped Abner Miller, and he could whip a dozen on ye," (accompanied by a jocose punch on the ribs.)

"Abner Miller! why, he could double you up, and fold you down." "Well, come, let us take a glass anyhow."

"I don't care if I do, old chap."

Now this conversation bears no resemblance to that of the best society in the old settlements, nor to the purest branches which shoot out from them into the remotest parts, (with exceptions, however, for many of them affect low conduct for popularity.) No; such language is rather mechanical,— but, mechanics are gentlemen, and, when not in their working dress, are hardly to be distinguished from lawyers, doctors, store-keepers, &c., the usual society one falls in with.

While I was crossing the Atlantic I find that striking specimens of Lynchlaw were then in course of display at Vicksburg, Natchez, Columbus, Mississippi, &c., which throw mine in the background; such as hanging missionaries and gamblers who had dared to win people's money, and blacks who could not help themselves. In fact, such a system must produce such fruit, whilst briars produce blackberries; and were I to delay the writing of this paper till I could include the last of them, I should have to wait till despotism or some vigorous government became stronger than the mob. However, "I guess I have sufficiently dwelt on such matters in the South; but lest readers should fancy that such insubordination and impunity were confined to the New, the Southern, and the Slave States, I will in my next paper trouble them with a few examples from the North. And then, as the most interesting events have found their way into the publications of the day, I shall give the preference to extracts from them.

THE FISH, THE MAN, AND THE SPIRIT.

BY LEIGH HUNT.

TO FISH.

You strange, astonish'd-looking, angle-faced,
Dreary-mouth'd, gaping wretches of the sea,
Gulping salt water everlastingly,

Cold-blooded, though with red your blood be graced
And mute, though dwellers in the roaring waste; *

And you, all shapes beside, that fishy be,

Some round, some flat, some long, all devilry,
Legless, unloving, infamously chaste;

From a fine line in the poems of Drummond of Hawthornden, speaking of the

sea:

"To roaring element with people dumb."

O scaly, slippery, wet, swift, staring wights,
What is't ye do? What life lead? eh, dull goggles?
How do ye vary your vile days and nights?

How pass your Sundays? Are ye still but joggles
In ceaseless wash? Still nought but gapes, and bites,
And drinks, and stares, diversified with boggles:

A FISH ANSWERS.

Amazing monster! that, for aught I know,
With the first sight of thee didst make our race
For ever stare! O flat and shocking face,
Grimly divided from the breast below!
Thou, that on dry land horribly dost go
With a split body and most ridiculous pace
Prong after prong, disgracer of all grace,
Long-useless-finn'd, haired, upright, unwet, slow!
O breather of unbreathable, sword-sharp air,
How canst exist? How bear thyself, thou dry
And dreary sloth? What particle canst share
Of the only blessed life, the watery?

I sometimes see of ye an actual pair

Go by!! link'd fin by fin!!! most odiously.

THE FISH TURNS INTO A MAN, AND THEN INTO A SPIRIT,

AND AGAIN SPEAKS.

Indulge thy smiling scorn, if smiling still,

O man! and loathe, but with a sort of love;
For difference must itself by difference prove,
And, with sweet clang, the spheres with music fill.

One of the spirits am I, that at their will

Live in whate'er has life-fish, eagle, dove-
No hate, no pride, beneath nought, nor above,
A visiter of the rounds of God's sweet skill.

Man's life is warm, glad, sad, 'twixt loves and graves,
Boundless in hope, honour'd with pangs austere,
Heav'n-gazing; and his angel-wings he craves:—
The fish is swift, small-needing, vague yet clear,
A cold sweet silver life, wrapp'd in round waves,
Quicken'd with touches of transporting fear.

[As the transition from the ludicrous to the grave, in these verses, might otherwise appear too violent, the reader will permit me to explain how they arose. The first sonnet was suggested by a friend's laughing at a description I was giving him of the general aspect of fish (in which, by the way, if anybody is curious, let him get acquainted with them in Mr. Yarrell's excellent work on " British Fishes," now in course of publication); the second sonnet, being a lover of fair play, I thought but a just retort to be allowed to those fellow-creatures of ours, who so differ with us in eyeballs and opinions; and the third, not liking to leave a quarrel unsettled, and having a tendency to push a speculation as far as it will go, especially into those calm and heavenward regions from which we always return the better, if we calmly enter them, naturally became as serious as the peace of mind is, with which all speculations conclude that have harmony and lovingness for their real object. The fish, in his retort, speaks too knowingly of his human banterer, for a fish; but it will be seen, that a Spirit animates him for the purpose.]

AN ANECDOTE:-SAD, BUT TRUE.

THERE are people in the world who stoutly deny the possibility of any one dying or going mad through love. Tell them a story in confirmation of it, and they will only laugh in your face and deride your weak credulity; nor is it to be wondered at that among mankind there should be some who would rather abridge than multiply the passages by which the life and peace of human beings make their escape; and who would consequently rather believe that the best and noblest properties of our nature would hardly be made use of to injure or destroy it.

Yet, in spite of all that, love can both kill and render insane, as this narrative will show. All the writer has to say is, that every word of it is true; and, should any one be disposed to doubt a single part of the statement here given, he may have his doubt removed by inquiring, through the Editor, into the particulars of the case himself. In the quarter where the unhappy individual lately resided, the facts are well known; the reader will, however, excuse the necessity which causes the names of some of the persons and places to be feigned.

In 1824, or thereabouts, Dr. Spring, upon taking his medical diploma at the University of Edinburgh, commenced his profession in London. Like other medical men he had to combat-and he combated with success -the difficulties which seem to lie in heaps upon the threshold of a medical man's career. The brilliancy of his course at the University, and the singularity of his scholastic habits had, however, combined to render the introduction of Dr. Spring into the great world of London rather more favourable than falls to the general lot. Great learning under an agreeable manner and modest deportment lent its assistance to bring him into public notice. His lectures were spoken of as the master-pieces of the day; his opinions were quoted and criticised by the leading journals; and, by the time he had stood two years, he began to be employed by the highest classes of society. At the end of the third his receipts amounted to nine hundred a-year, and among his patients there were those who had inserted his name in their wills for small legacies in proof of their estimation of his faithful attention during their illness and decay.

While walking onward on a path of flowers he was called in to prescribe for a young lady who had been taken suddenly ill of typhus fever. Under his skilful treatment she speedily recovered, to the great joy of her father: she was an only child, and heir to a fortune of one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. As she considered her life might perhaps be owing to the skill of Dr. Spring, she felt from the day of her illness the deepest feeling of gratitude towards him; which, in process of time, began to lose itself in the still nobler quality of love. This change was not unperceived by him, and, having constant opportunities of conversing with her, allowed him by the absence of her father throughout the day, he did not fail to promote its growth. Ere long he was as deep in the tender passion as the lady herself; and vows were. sealed between them that they should one day be man and wife.

Meanwhile Dr. Spring's fame was not stationary; though his affections were confined to one spot, and wandered not from the house of his devoted Louisa day or night, his mind was intent upon the duties of his

profession. At length his prospects assumed a form so apparently prosperous that the happy lovers thought they might with safety venture to marry. Independent of his professional income, Dr. Spring had an annuity of two hundred pounds: whether Louisa would receive any portion of her fortune before the death of her father was yet to be ascertained, as his consent to the marriage still remained to be asked; and as he was a person of the most despotic temper and forbidding manner it was by no means an easy undertaking for either of the parties to make the necessary disclosure to him! Hesitation could not long dwell in company with so many ardent hopes and wishes as possessed the breast of Dr. Spring; the first favourable opportunity of addressing a few words in private to the lady's father was seized to communicate the affair. Without a moment's consideration, or the alteration of a single feature, the old gentleman pronounced his refusal; his daughter might, it was true, marry, but if she did, not one farthing of his money should ever go into her possession.

There was nothing in this harsh reply very astonishing to Dr. Spring, who had long perceived that Louisa's father loved his money first, and his daughter next. Neither was it very appalling to a physician of his celebrity and income to be told that he should receive nothing with his wife; though there was, to a sensitive mind, as his was, something exceedingly painful in the circumstance of causing a daughter to forfeit her father's favour and her own fortune in order to make him happy. He was well aware they could live comfortably together on a thousand a-year, in a quiet way, in town; but Louisa had hitherto been accustomed to her own carriage. He loved her too well, moreover, to put her in a new and a worse position, which must be the consequence of his marrying her at such a time: these considerations occupied his thoughts for some weeks. They were all discussed between them; and the result after all was, that they should be married within a month.

Matters being thus arranged, Dr. Spring took a house and furnished it, in one of the most fashionable squares, and formally acquainted Louisa's father that he should be united to his daughter on such a day. This intelligence seems to have excited some dormant sparks of parental regard, which had before lain entirely buried under a mass of worldly cares; for the tidings no sooner reached his ear, than he ordered Dr. Spring to leave his house, and never again to enter it. As there was no alternative, Dr. Spring bowed and withdrew; still trusting that Louisa might be able to mollify his anger, and overcome his opposition to their union. In this he was destined to be disappointed the old man became more and more averse to it; and in order to cut off all intercourse, for a time at least, he hurried his daughter away to the Continent, where he determined to stay a twelvemonth. He took pains, also, to prevent all letters passing between her and Dr. Spring. The love of gain at length brought him home; and as he found his business greatly in arrear, he was under the necessity of leaving his daughter to the custody of her own discretion for several hours a-day. Her affection had undergone no change during the lapse of time she had been debarred from hearing anything of Dr. Spring; the first twopenny-post after her arrival in town carried a letter to his house, assuring him of the constancy of her attachment, and expressing the hope that his affection. would never be shaken. Some weeks transpired before this letter came