I spent the night at the inn yonder, but the dolt of a landlord might have been one of the staves of his own barrels: he could not answer me a question!" "Ha! my dashing friend," I thought to myself, "old Pierre must have had his reasons for making a fool of you," for in truth the landlord knew every one, and everything that happened, for miles around.

On the tenth day he came to the westward slope of the first range and looked down upon one of the most wonderful valleys his eyes had ever beheld. It was more than a valley. It was a broad plain. Fifty miles across it rose the towering majesty of the mightiest of all the Yukon mountains. And now, though he saw a paradise about him, his heart began to sink within him.

But one of the most curious passages in Dudley's Metallum Martis, is the following picture of the Dudley coal-field: "Now let me show some reasons that induced me to undertake these inventions. At present, for more than ten miles round Dudley Castle, iron works of one kind or another are constantly at work; no remains of mighty woodland are to be found.

From hence we go back into the county about four miles, because of the creeks which lie between; and then turning east again come to Harwich, on the utmost eastern point of this large country. Harwich is a town so well known and so perfectly described by many writers, I need say little of it. It is strong by situation, and may be made more so by art.

They learned, from a peasant, that strong works had been erected on every eminence round the town; and that the road from the coast had been cut, and stockaded. Approach by this route was impossible, for there were twenty miles of country to be traversed; and much of this was under water from the inundations.

It was evident, then, that the village could be but a few miles off; hence the pursuit was continued with redoubled caution until, a few hours before dawn of the 27th, as the leading scouts peered over a rise on the line of march, they discovered a large body of animals in the valley below.

While at Silao a Mexican sand-spout, a visitant which is very liable to appear on the open plains during the dry season, struck in our immediate vicinity, followed by a fierce dust-storm, which lasted for about an hour, darkening the atmosphere to a night-hue for miles around, and covering every exposed article or person with a thick layer of fine sand.

They fled without stopping forty miles to Dixon's Ferry. They reported that they had been attacked by fifteen hundred savages. They left all their camp stuff. Fourteen soldiers had been killed but no Indians, except those sent by Black-hawk to treat for peace. "Stillman's Run," the battle was called. Black-hawk sat down to smoke a pipe to the Great Spirit, and give thanks.

The track lay along our own boundary fence most of the way, and we had ridden about ten miles, when we stopped at one of our shepherds' huts, technically called an out station, and accepted his offer of luncheon.

Well, but what did that signify? Nothing to me; let him expose himself on as many stages as he pleases, and wherever the phaeton can transport him, but he comes here, and assembles as many people ten miles around as can squeeze into the Booth. I had every fear that Mrs.