think only as they think, no ephemeral excitement can become prevalent. Others, with more probability, we think, believe that while there is quite as much independence of thought and action at the south as in any section of the union, yet there is less liability to fanaticism among any portion of the citizens, because there is a more general interchange of opinions among the different classes of society; and because the southern people, though of ardent temperament, seldom adopt any important views until after frequent discussion and a full examination. Perhaps the reader will choose one of his own, rather than either of the above solutions.

LETTER FIFTH:

TEE MISTLETOE BOUGH:" CYPRESS MOSS:

ANGLING: TROUT: GAR-FISH:

SHOVEL-FISH.

Barbour County, Alabama, March 10, 1847.

THE most remarkable parasitic plant on the western continent, and perhaps in the world, is the mistletoe. It is found throughout the southern states, extending on the Atlantic coast as far north as the latitude of thirty-six degrees, and in the valley of the Mississippi to the southern part of Illinois. It grows only in the tops of trees, shooting out from the branches like a scion from one tree engrafted into another. It grows on all the deciduous forest-trees of the south, but more frequently on the chestnut, oak, sweet gum, elm and persimmon. It is never found on the pine, cypress, or any of the trees which retain their foliage in the winter. It is now generally thought that the mistletoe is the spontaneous production of the tree from which it receives its support. Some however believe that the seed is carried by birds or by the wind from one tree to another, and after sprouting, the root insinuates itself into the bark and derives its support after the manner of a graft or bud inserted in a fruit-tree. It is an objection to the last theory that the mistletoe sprouts more frequently from the under than the upper side of the branch. It is an argument in its favor that in the winter season it has a small translucent berry, each one of which contains a seed. The mistletoe-bough is an ever-green; and growing on deciduous trees, presents in the winter the strange appearance of a number of branches covered with leaves of a brilliant green, on a tree that is otherwise divested of its foliage. The bough is of an orbicular form, branches out on every side, and seldom exceeds five feet in length. The wood and bark are of a deep green, and are very brittle. The ancient Druids thought that the mistletoe possessed wonderful magical powers, and the Greeks erroneously ascribed to it surprisingly medicinal qualities.

Another curiosity of the southern forest is the cypress moss, which abounds in the swamps and in the valleys of the larger rivers. In the vicinity of the Gulf of Mexico it hangs from the branches in long and waving wreaths, and so bountifully clothes the forest as well nigh to conceal the foliage; giving to the woodland scenery a uniformly gray and sombre appearance. The moss derives no sus

tenance from the tree from which it is suspended. It merely hangs upon the branches, and we have frequently seen the upper portion of the festoon, the part by which it is attached to the tree, entirely dead and shrivelled, while the lower portion was enjoying a rapid growth. It is therefore an atmospheric plant, and gathers its support by absorption from the atmosphere. It grows indiscriminately upon all the trees of the lowlands, though it seems more thrifty upon the cypress and live-oak. A green tree is necessary to its preservation, as the decay of the bark disengages it from the branches. The moss is gathered in large quantities, and after it is dried and culled, is used for beds and mattresses. It receives its growth chiefly in the winter season. Cattle are exceedingly fond of it, and in times of scarcity, trees on which it is abundant are felled to supply them.

The rivers of this region have deep channels and steep banks. Since the land has been cultivated the water is full of sediment at all seasons, and particularly so in the winter and spring. To a traveller it is surprising that a country so little broken as the middle section of Georgia and Alabama should be so subject to denudation. It arises from the peculiar nature of the red clay soil, which loses its tenacity when exposed to a current of water. From the turbid condition of the streams, the angler can never see the position of his bait, nor determine the value of a bite, till he has drawn his prize from the water. A Yankee, out here, is at first a most unskilful angler.

The trout found in the Chatahoochee and Alabama rivers is not identical with the beautiful fish of that pame that is a tenant of the swift and cold streams of the northern Atlantic country. It is of the perch class, and is finely marked with golden stripes. It is a sound, hard fish, with a pleasant flavor, and weighs from one to four pounds. There are several varieties of the cat-fish, which are easily caught with a hook, and sometimes weigh a hundred pounds.

The gar-fish is fierce, voracious, and swift in its movements, and is covered with large and hard scales. It is rare that it can be caught with a line, as its long round bill is thickly set with sharp teeth. The shovel or spoon-bill fish is only found in the Alabama and its tributaries. It has a strange and whimsical-looking head, with a proboscis shaped like a spoon, which extends some twelve inches beyond the mouth. It is used like a shovel in turning up the mud in search of food. They who are fishermen for profit rather than amusement, out here, resort to the shoals and water-falls, where they use the trap instead of the hook. Such, however, are not the true disciples of Izaak Walton.

MONADNOCK.

A DANDY.

SOME say there's nothing made in vain,
While others the reverse maintain,

And prove it very handy:

By citing animals like these:

Musquitoes, bed-bugs, crickets, fleas,
And-worse than all-a DANDY!

DOLCE FAR NIENTE.'

FROM A STRAY MS. LEAF.

THERE is a time when light and air and flowers
Are shining brightly wheresoe'er we tread;
When, from the passing of the swift-wing'd hours,
An atmosphere of love and peace is shed:
When Hope flits near us, with her angel-wings,
And sweetly to the heart her anthem sings.

Then, welling from their fount, the streams of pleasure
Roll on, refreshing every joyous nerve;

While, bound to our behests, withouten measure,'
All genial spirits at our bidding serve;

Content is ours, and gladness; things divine,

That make the tranquil breast their home and shrine.

THE SAINT LEGER

NUMBER THREE: PART SECOND.

PAPERS.

W. G. c.

I BELIEVE! Those words were full of meaning; and in every situation, under every trial, in the midst of scenes the most exciting, I have remembered them. Strange to say, the first lesson which I learned in Germany, the land of mystical philosophy, of wild theories, and of wilder doubts, was BELIEF; and that too from the most remarkable individual, every way considered, of which Germany could boast. But did Goëthe believe? I will not vouch for it; I can only vouch for his assertion that he did; and I will not think that he is a man to palter. But for my purpose it was of no consequence, so long as his exclamation was evidence of his opinion. And had I wandered so far to learn the simple lesson from him? Even so. And now, just as the German is ascending to his zenith, I-I, so many years his junior; I, who have had the same glowing energy; the same healthful, hopeful ambition; the same unchanging, determined aspirations; (may not a dying man speak even thus of himself?) I must stop short when I have scarce entered the lists. I see the door closed upon me just as I am about to cross the threshold. The pitcher is broken at the fountain, and the wheel is broken at the cistern, before a single draught of the refreshing waters is conveyed to me; and when the reward of past struggles and of present exertions appears to be close at hand, I am called away, to be here no more! GOD forgive me for this momentary murmur! I know that His purposes are true, and none can question them.

Come then to my aid, O sacred FAITH! in this moment of my weakness, and give me strength from on high! Teach me that although we work here, and know comparatively nothing, yet that we live always; that knowledge is and ever has been progressive; that the soul of man is as capacious as his aspirations are boundless, and that he has before him duration infinite, in which to labor and to KNOW! The Professor and his former pupil stood face to face. It was a striking picture. I wish I could have sketched it. The Poet, in the exuberant maturity of early manhood, with his open brow, his lofty look and earnest demeanor, by which tokens one might read much hopefulness and a strong will, great energy and an untiring patience, stood self-relying and firm, rejoicing as a strong man to run a race.' The appearance of the Professor was more chastened, more subdued; exhibiting equal firmness, with less determination, betokening a higher faith, with less self-reliance. Benevolence and every Christian virtue were exhibited in his countenance. None could mistake its expression.

At this moment Theresa, who with myself had been an earnest witness of what was passing, broke the silence:

'do

Herr Von Goethe,' she exclaimed, modestly, but with firmness, you honor the Sacraments?'

'I honor them,' was the serious reply of the poet.

But do you attend upon them, believing in their efficacy?'

All that is holy is efficacious; all that is Christian is holy,' was the singular reply.

Theresa paused a moment, as if not satisfied with the answer; then quietly seating herself, she resumed her needle without farther comment. At the same time, the Professor invited his guest to walk into the garden, and there they both proceeded. I was thus left alone with Theresa.

I felt embarrassed, I knew not why. I tried to think what I should say to my new acquaintance, but I could find no utterance for my thoughts. To me the silence was continually becoming more awkward, when Theresa, looking up from her employment, said: The gentleman does not care to walk in the garden; he must be fatigued. Indeed,' continued she, changing the person, 'you must have had a long, a toilsome journey; and you have left your home too. But you have friends here in Leipsic ?'

'None,' I replied, touched by the simplicity of her manner; 'none, unless I may call your father and yourself by that title.' And why may you not?' replied Theresa, earnestly. My father bade you welcome, and by that I know he is your friend. And if he is, then am I.'

There was something so peculiar in the manner of this young girl, so different from any thing I ever before observed in my intercourse with the sex, that I was puzzled. She seemed neither diffident nor embarrassed; yet if ever true modesty marked one's demeanor, it certainly gave character to hers. The more I considered, the more I saw to admire; until I came to the conclusion, which a subsequent acquaintance fully sustained, that Theresa was by nature