goats, hogs, poultry, and other useful animals. The Portuguese having in time deserted it for their establishments on the southeast coast of Africa, it was taken possession of by the Dutch, and abandoned by them in 1651 for the Cape of Good Hope. The English afterwards established themselves here. It was granted to the East India Company by Charles II., and was the only resting-place in the Atlantic possessed by them for the refreshment of their ships. The island is ten and a half miles long by 62 broad, and about 28 miles in circumference.

The principal plain in the island, called Longwood, situated in the eastern part, has become celebrated by the residence of Napoleon Bonaparte. The illustrious captive arrived at St. Helena in November, 1815, and died there May 5th, 1821. The spot where he lies' quietly inurned' is in a deep valley, surrounded by a small iron railing, and covered with a coarse brown stone, lying about eight inches above the level of the ground, without an inscription. His sepulchre is overhung by three weeping willows of a very large size; and a few yards to the south of it is a spring from which he used to take his water. This interesting spot is distant from Jamestown about two miles and a half, and is approached by an excellent road connecting the two places. The body of Napoleon is deposited in a mahogany coffin, which is placed within three other cases: on the external one is the inscription, General of the French. By his side lies the sword which he wore at Austerlitz.

Recent visiters to Bonaparte's tomb describe the fresh planting of a set of young willows around it, cuttings from the parent trees, by the present

governor, as the old ones are fast going to decay Longwood is now a farm-house, and no part but the former billiard room remains inhabitable; the other apartments being converted into stables, granaries, &c. The new Longwood House, which is an excellent dwelling, has never been occupied, and is apparently fast falling into ruins.

THE SCENERY OF THE OHIO.

The heart must indeed be cold that would not glow among scenes like these. Rightly did the French call this stream La Belle Rivière, (the beautiful river). The sprightly Canadian, plying his oar in cadence with the wild notes of the boat-song, could not fail to find his heart enlivened by the beautiful symmetry of the Ohio. Its current is always graceful, and its shores every where romantic. Every thing here is on a large scale. The eye of the traveller is continually regaled with magnificent scenes. Here are no pigmy mounds dignified by the name of mountains; no rivulets swelled into rivers. Nature has worked with a rapid but masterly hand; every touch is bold, and the whole is grand as well as beautiful; while room is left for art to embellish and fertilize that which nature has created with a thousand capabilities. There is much sameness in the character of the scenery; but that sameness is in itself delightful, as it consists in the recurrence of noble traits, which are too pleasing ever to be viewed with indifference; like the regular features which we sometimes find in the face of a beautiful woman, their charm consists in their own intrinsic gracefulness, rather than in the variety of their expressions. The Ohio, has not the sprightly, fanciful wildness of the Niagara,

the St. Lawrence, or the Susquehanna, whose impetuous torrents, rushing over beds of rocks, or dashing against the jutting cliffs, arrest the ear by their murmurs, and delight the eye with their eccentric wanderings. Neither is it like the Hudson, margined at one spot by the meadow and the village, and overhung at another by threatening precipices and stupendous mountains. It has a wild, solemn, silent sweetness, peculiar to itself. The noble stream, clear, smooth, and unruffled, sweeps onward with regular majestic force. Coni tinually changing its course, as it rolls from vale to vale, it always winds with dignity, and, avoiding those acute angles which are observable in less powerful streams, sweeps round in graceful bends, as if disdaining the opposition to which Nature forces it to submit.. On each side rise the romantic hills, piled on each other to a tremendous height; and between them are deep, abrupt, silent glens, which at a distance seem inaccessible to the human foot; while the whole is covered with timber of a gigantic size, and a luxuriant foliage of the deepest hues. Throughout this scene there is a pleasing solitariness, that speaks peace to the mind, and invites the fancy to soar abroad among the tranquil haunts of meditation. Sometimes the splashing of the oar is heard, and the boatman's song awakens the surrounding echoes; but the most usual music is that of the native songsters, whose melody steals pleasingly on the ear, with every modulation, at all hours. The poet, in sketching these solitudes, might, by throwing his scene a few years back, add the light canoe, and the war-song of the Indians; but the peaceful traveller rejoices in the absence of that which would bring danger, as well as variety within his reach.-Hall's Letters from the West.

MOUNTAIN TRAVELLING

IN

SOUTH AMERICA.

Travellers in Europe, even those who may have passed over the Pyrenees or Alps, can have but a faint idea of the labor and danger of crossing the Andes, that immense mountain-chain by which the continent of South America is intersected, from its southern to its most northern extremity, dividing Peru and Chile, on the western Coasts, from Colombia and Brazil, on the eastern. Many of the Passes are upwards of 18,000 feet, or nearly four miles, in perpendicular height, above the level of the sea. In some parts men, who have made it their sole occupation, carry the passenger up the most steep and dangerous paths, in a kind of chair fastened to their backs; but in general, the journey is made by travellers mounted on that patient and sure-footed animal, the mule.

The above engraving is from a print in the Travels of Colonel Hamilton, who, in 1823, visited South America, as chief commissioner from the king of Great Britain to the republic of Colombia. It represents a perilous situation common to the traveller in these terrific regions, when his safety depends wholly on the sure-footedness of his mule. In the Pass along which the traveller is proceeding, the road is separated by a chasm, several feet in width, which forms the mouth of a yawning gulf,