a strain composed of only two or three melancholy tones, he begins in an under tone, and swelling it gradually by the most superb crescendo, to the highest point of strength, he ends it by a dying cadence; or it consists of a rapid succession of more brilliant sounds, terminated, like many other strains of his song, by some detached note. Twenty-four different strains or couplets may be reckoned in the song of a fine Nightingale, without including its delicate little variations, for among these, as among other musicians, there are some great performers and many middling ones. This song is so articulate, so speaking, that it may be very well written. The following is a trial which I have made on that of a Nightingale in my neighborhood, which passes for a very capital singer :

“ Tiou, tion, tion, tiou.

Spe, tiou, squa.

Tiô, tiô, tiô, tiô, tiô, tiô, tiô, tiô.

Coutio, coutio, coutio, coutio.

SquÐô, squê, squê, squê.

Tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzi.

Corro, tiou, squa, pipiqui.

Zozozozozozozozozozozozo, zirrhading!

Tsissisi, tsissisisisisisisisis.

Dzorre, dzorre, dzorre, dzorre, hi.

Tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, dzi.

Dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo.

Quio, tr rrrrrrrr itz.

Lu, lu, lu, lu, ly, ly, ly, ly, liê, liên liê, liê*

Quio, didl li lulylie.

Hagurr, gurr guipio.

Coui, coui, coui, coui, qui, qui, qui, qui, gui, gui, gui, gui.t

Goll, goll, goll, goll, quia hadadoi.

Couiqui, horr, ha diadia dill si!

* I possess a nightingale which repeats these brawling, melancholy notes, often thirty or even fifty times. Many pronounce qu, quy, qui, and others, qu quy gui.

These syllables are pronounced in a sharper, clearer manner than the preceding lu, lu, &c.—AUTHOR.

Hezezezezezezezezezezezezezezezeze couar ho dze hoi.
Quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, ti.

Ki, ki, ki, ïo, ïo, ïo, ioioioio ki.

Lu ly li le lai la leu lo, didl ïo quia.

Kigaigaigaigaigaigaigai guiagaigaigai couior dzio dzio pi.*

"If we could understand the sense of their words, we should doubtless discover the expression of the sensations of this delightful songster. It is true that the nightingale of all countries, the South as well as the North, appears to sing in this same manner; there is, however, as has been already observed, so great a difference in the degree of perfection, that we cannot help acknowledging the one has great superiority over another."

Now if any one will take the trouble to whistle or hum over this song, they will find it to resemble, in all respects except intensity, the natural song of our mocking bird. The splendor and power of the new monarch cannot be expressed in syllables, its infinite variety is beyond the command of the gamut.

However difficult or even impossible it may be to express this song upon an instrument, (excepting, however, the jay call, made of tin, on which is placed a piece of birch cut in a cross, and which is held between the tongue and palate,) yet it is very true that the accompaniment of a good piano produces the most agreeable effect.-AUTHOR.

CHAPTER X.

BORDER LIFE IN THE WEST.

AN ADVENTURE NEAR THE MOUTH OF THE OHIO RIVER.

THE neighborhood of that amphibious city known as Cairo, has never been remarkable for either the hospitable or any other virtues of its inhabitants, especially those on the Indiana side.

I had a most satisfactory opportunity of testing this on an occasion which I shall relate.

Some twelve or thirteen years since, while on my return to my native town in Kentucky, after a long sojourn amidst the wilds of the Texas border, I accidentally fell in, at Lexington, with the father of an old and intimate friend of my own, who had, too, been an adventurer through the same regions and scenes which I had just left, but had now settled down, for the time at least, in charge of a new plantation he was opening on the Kentucky side of the Ohio, some fifteen miles above Cairo.

The father, Mr. H—, was now on his way to pay a visit to his son, and invited me-as it would be but a slight deviation from direct course home-to accompany him, and pay a passing visit to his son Dick, who would be anxious to hear all the news I could give him concerning the late field of his adventures. We took water at Louisville, expecting, as the new plantation was only a mile from the banks of the Ohio, that we would be put ashore by the steamboat on the Kentucky side, and have no difficulty in reaching the house.

But the river was falling fast when we left Louisville, and we found great difficulty on that account, in the way of our navigation; and indeed, when we reached the point of landing, just at the head of the rapids, which was not until eleven o'clock of a dark night, we found to our great dismay, that the captain could not be induced to land on the Kentucky side by any entreaties. He said that at such a stage of the water, landing on that side was entirely unsafe, and that he would not risk the safety of his boat and other passengers for the accommodation of one or two-but as he offered to land us on the Indiana side, where there was a small woodyard and cabin, in which we could take shelter until morning, we were bound to feel satisfied.

I

However great this obligation was, my elderly companion did not seem by any means to appreciate it with sufficient gratitude. When he found that the captain was brutally determined upon his course, he said nothing more, but seemed reconciled to put the best possible face upon the matter. could see, though, from his manner, that there was something behind the studied coolness with which he accepted the alternative; what it meant I could not comprehend, for I had been too long absent from the country to be at all aware of the then infamous reputation of that portion of the Indiana border. The boat stopped in the middle of the stream, and the yawl was manned to put us, with our baggage, on shore, when, as we were entering, we found ourselves about to be joined by a third party, whose "traps" had been handed. forward, and had been passed down. First came four square boxes of cherry-wood, highly varnished, and ostentatiously mounted with silver-German silver, I suppose-and which proved very weighty; so much so, that the "hands" indulged in many mysterious jokes about them, enjoining each other to be careful not to let them fall, for if they "bust" open and "spilt anything," it might be too much "for a man. to stand," &c. Then came several large and heavy black trunks.

"In Heaven's name, man!" said Mr. H, turning up his eyes with a look in which the serio-comic horror seemed struggling with pity; "do you know where you are taking all this baggage?"

The new passenger, as revealed to us for a moment in the torch-light, seemed a sturdy, thick-set, rosy cheeked, but rather greenish-looking Yankee. He sprang down into the boat, and took his place by our side, saying, with the greatest nonchalance, "Ya-cs, I guess I do!"

"Well," growled my friend-for the boat was now in motion-"I should rather guess you don't-we'll see!"

The self-confident Yankee took no notice of this speech, but settled himself as coolly as possible for his own comfort, and with, of course, no regard to ours, upon the seat he had thus unceremoniously occupied, and stretching out his legs, seemed preparing for a snooze, while our boat shot out through the almost impenetrable darkness towards the distant shore. A light, which was now swinging to and fro at the woodyard, was our only guide and beacon, for the shore was entirely invisible. It had been raining through the day, and the night, which was now darkly clouded, promised to be still boisterous and stormy.

When we reached the shore, a rough-looking fellow met us with his pine-knot torch, and proved very obsequious in helping us land. When the hands had put our baggage ashore and the boat had pushed off, this accommodating gentleman with the torch proceeded complacently to assure us that the baggage would be entirely safe where it lay-that there was nobody here to trouble it for the very good reason that no person lived within ten miles, on this side of the river, of his solitary cabin-into which he pressed us to walk and "make ourselves at home." But innocent as this proposition seemed, I was too much of a traveller to leave anything at risk, even when only my own humble personalities -which, by the way, I believe were then contained in a pair of saddle-bags—were considered, so I resisted this philan