before the rest, and with light steps drew near a cavern in the rock; where, placing his head to the ground, he listened anxiously for some moments, scarcely seeming to breathe; then, with a slight motion of his hand, he gave the welcome sign that the enemy was within. A shower of arrows was poured into the chasm; and the long shrill hoop that accompanied the volley had just died away in its caverns, when a heavy splash was heard, which for a time suspended farther operations. The attacking party gazed on one another in mute and vacant surprise; for they had not suspected the subterranean passage, and felt that they were baffled. The chief, after creeping into the cavern to explore; directed them to embark; and having formed a crescent with their canoes, at intervals of a hundred yards from each other, they paddled towards the Rat's Lodge, under the idea that the enemy might have retreated thither; if not, it was agreed that the Rat, though, upon the whole, comparatively harmless, should pay the penalty of his untoward alliance, and suffer a vicarious punishment for the sins of his friend and the gratification of the disappointed pursuers. The Rat, however, fortunately for himself, had that instinctive foresight of approaching ruin which proverbially belongs to his race; and, however ready to assist his neighbour when matters went well with him, and something was to be gained by the cooperation, he watched with a prudent jealousy the conduct and fortunes of one so obnoxious to hatred, and was ready on the first appearance of danger, to stand aloof and disclaim him. Accordingly when the Beaver presented himself at the lodge of his friend, to crave a temporary asylum from his pursuers, the Rat, with many protestations of esteem and regret, civilly declined to admit him, and recommended him to make the most of his time by swimming to some rocks to the south, where he would be safe from his enemies. The Beaver, though stunned for a time by this unexpected repulse, soon recovered his wonted spirit, and feeling his situation to be hopeless, threw himself on the Rat, and began a desperate struggle. How the contest might have ended it was difficult to conjecture; but the whoop of the Indians arrested the combatants; and darting a look of vengeance at the Rat, the Beaver plunged once more into the water. The chase was long, and many were the hairbreadth escapes of the resolute Beaver: but the ardour of the hunters was not to be quenched; and tracked to the end of the lake, and thence down the cataracts and rapids which mark its course to the next, the exhausted animal yielded its life, just as its feet touched the distant rocks of the Tal-thel-leh.

"But its spirit," said Maufelly in a low and subdued tone, "still lingers about its old haunt, the waters of which obey its will; and ill fares the Indian who attempts to pass it in his canoe, without muttering a prayer for safety: many have perished; some bold men have escaped; but none have been found so rash as to venture a second time within its power."

The winter of 1833, 34 proved to be of unusual severity, and pressed heavily on both Indians and Europeans. Active preparations were, however, made for the venture of the approach

ing summer; and Captain Back was set free from one main source of anxiety, by receiving intelligence of the safe return of Ross and his companions. Captain Back describes with much effect the rejoicings on that occasion, commencing with a solemn thanksgiving, and finishing with a generous bowl of punch.' This alteration in the object of the expedition allowed of advantageous changes in the arrangements: one boat with a picked crew was deemed better suited to the enterprise, than the two which had been built for the accommodation of the whole party; and this determination materially facilitated the general preparations. It was during this period that the following occurrence took place; and we cite the description as an interesting illustration of the instinct of animals.

A small swamp behind the house was the resort of two or three kind of ducks, some of which were occasionally got by Mr. King, who was a daily visitor amongst them. On one occasion, just as he had hit his bird, his attention was attracted by some more in an adjacent pool; so without staying to pick up his game, he crept towards the others, and as he thought disabled a fine drake. Eager to bag it, he waded into the water, when he was startled by a sharp whizzing noise over his head. This, he soon perceived, was caused by a large white-headed eagle, which was descending with the rapidity of lightning towards the precise spot where lay the duck he had before hit. Impelled by the desire at once to secure the bird for dinner, and if possible to get a shot at the eagle also, he instantly left the wounded drake, and, sans culottes, flew with all speed over patches of hard snow, dashing through the swamp, and arriving just in time to see the powerful marauder quietly sweep off, exactly out of the reach of shot, with the duck firmly grasped in its talons. Having watched it out of sight, he then retraced his steps; and leav

ing his gun in a dry place, betook himself to the aquatic chase of the

drake, which, far from being fluttered or alarmed, remained motionless, as if waiting to be taken up. Still, as he neared, it glided easily away through innumerable little nooks and windings, with all the confidence of a branch pilot. Several times he extended his arm to catch it; and having at last, with great patience, managed to coop it in a corner, from which there appeared to be no escape, he was triumphantly bending down to take it, (gently, however, as he wished to preserve it for a specimen,) when, to his utter astonishment, after two or three flounders, it looked round, cried "quack", and then flew off so strongly that he was convinced he had never hit it at all. The object of the drake had clearly been to draw Mr. King away from its companion, of whose fate it was unconscious; indeed, so attached are these birds at certain seasons, that it is no uncommon circumstance, when one has been shot, for the other, especially the male, to linger about its struggling partner, exhibiting the greatest distress, until either killed or frightened away. Sometimes in such cases they will dive to avoid the shot, but refuse to fly; as in an instance where one remained to be fired at no less than five times.'

It was on the 7th of June, that Captain Back left Fort Reliance, and, after exertions of extreme severity, amid the most exhausting difficulties from weather, ice, and the desertion of his guides, fairly and finally launched his frail boat on the Thlew-eechoh. The navigation of this dangerous and bewildering stream, called forth the most strenuous efforts of skill and strength on the part of the adventurers. Continually changing its course at abrupt angles,-now expanding into lakes, and again contracting into narrow channels, broken by heavy and hazardous rapids, it gave no respite either to head or hand, but kept anxiety and energy in constant exercise. One illustration must suffice, but it will show clearly enough that no common crew would have been equal to the business, and that the Indians, though imperfectly acquainted with the river, were not mistaken in the apprehensions which they are said to entertain, of its perilous navigation.

'The boat was lightened, and every care taken to avoid accidents; but so overwhelming was the rush and whirl of the water, that she, and consequently those in her, were twice in the most imminent danger of perishing by being plunged into one of the gulfs formed in the rocks and hollows of the rapid. It was in one of those singular and dangerous spots, which partake of the triple character of a fall, rapid, and eddy, in the short space of a few yards, that the crew owed their safety solely to an unintentional disobedience of the steersman's directions. The power of the water so far exceeded whatever had been witnessed in any of the other rivers of the country, that the same precautions successfully used elsewhere were weak and unavailing here. The steersman was endeavouring to clear a fall and some sunken rocks on the left, but the man to whom he spoke misunderstood him, and did exactly the reverse; and now, seeing the danger, the steersman swept round the boat's stern: instantly it was caught by an eddy, to the right, which snapping an oar, twirled her irresistibly broad side on; so that for a moment it seemed uncertain whether the boat and all in her were to be hurled into the hollow of the fall, or dashed stern foremost on the sunken rocks. Something perhaps (perhaps!) wiser than chance ordained it otherwise; for how it happened no account can be given, but so it was that her head swung in shore towards the beach, and thereby gave Sinclair and others an opportunity of springing into the water, and thus, by their united strength, rescuing her from her perilous situation. Now had the man to whom the first order was given, understood and acted upon it, no human power could have saved the crew from being buried in the frightful abyss. Nor yet could any blame be justly attached to the steersman: he had never been so situated before; and even in this imminent peril his coolness and self-possession never forsook him.'

Through dangers of this description, they pursued the violent ' and tortuous' course of a river which runs through a treeless

and iron-ribbed region, measuring, with its various windings, a distance of five hundred and thirty geographical miles. Its falls and rapids amount in number to eighty-three, and it pours its waters into the Polar Sea, in Lat. 67° 11′ 00′′ N., and Long. 94° 30′ 0′′ w. The party reached the mouth of the Thlew-eechoh on the 29th of July: Victoria Headland was the first intimation of a coast, and their canoe left high and dry at midnight was the unequivocal sign of a tide. Still the voyagers slackened not their course: their present object was to connect the line of coast with Cape Turnagain, and with that view they kept along the western shore. It is a singular circumstance in this arduous enterprise, that, if its first object had remained unchanged, it would in all probability have been successful, since, while the passage to the westward was rendered impracticable by ice, there seemed to be an open passage along the eastern coast. however, appeared that further progress was impossible: ice, partially broken up one day, to be more closely packed the next, interposed itself between Captain Back and his object; and on the 16th of August he gave reluctant orders to turn homeward the prow of his canoe. Sept. 27th, the party reached their old quarters at Fort Reliance.

It soon,

Abstaining, for reasons already stated, from further detail, it only remains that we refer to the appendix as containing valuable information on subjects connected with natural history. The Aurora is illustrated by wood-cuts and the results of minute observation. The geological statements are, of course, incomplete; nor would it be practicable to make them the basis of satisfactory conclusions. The graphic adornments of the work are partly from the graver, but chiefly from the lithographic process: they are well chosen and well executed.

Art. V. The Great Metropolis. By the Author of "Random Recollections of the Lords and Commons." In two Volumes, 12mo., pp. xii. 698. London, 1836.

THIS is a work of that class which is sure to find readers,

and, among those readers, abundance of extempore critics; but which we, as Reviewers, scarcely know how to deal with. We may be supposed to know something of the Great Metropolis; but, with many of its regions through which these volumes conduct us, we have no actual acquaintance; and we are obliged to surrender ourselves to the Author's guidance, like Dante to his illustrious guide in passing through il inferno. We do not feel competent, therefore, to judge of the correctness of great part of the information which appears to have been so industriously col

lected. That errors, both of observation and of derived information, have crept into the work, is certain, and was inevitable. To be entirely and uniformly correct, the Author would require to have brought to his task the locomotive powers, the means of self-introduction, and the gifted intuition of Le Sage's demon, or Mephistopheles himself. In plain words, the Author has attempted too much. We give him credit for having bestowed much labour on the work, and taken much pains to be correct. 'Almost every statement,' he tells us, is the result of personal inquiry or personal observation;' and 'in his anxiety to procure correct information, he has, in several instances, visited places, and mixed with classes of men before unknown to him.' Now all this may be satisfactory enough as vouching for the general correctness of the accounts of the theatres, the clubs, and the gaming-houses of the metropolis. But, in attempting to describe and characterize whole classes of society, the higher, the middle, and the lower, the Author ceases to be a reporter of the results of personal inquiry and observation, and assumes the character of the philosophical moralist. Besides, within those classes are comprised circles within circles, worlds within the Great World, to which access is not very easy, and the moral varieties of which have little in common; the different regions and gradations of society comprised in the vast aggregate being separated by viewless but almost impassable conventional barriers. That the same individual should have a personal acquaintance with the higher ranks, and with the various classes intermediate between these and the lower orders,' sufficiently extensive to enable him to form a just opinion of even the average character of each, is not far short of impossible. Human nature, unhappily, presents under every modification too many of the same general characteristics; and we may safely reason as to the probable effect of given circumstances operating upon the weaknesses and corrupt tendencies of our nature. The habits and customs of those who live more immediately under the eye of the public, are indeed matter of notoriety; and we run no great risk of doing injustice to the great and gay, by forming our opinions of the class from a knowledge of the lives and characters of well-known individuals. Still, any general observations of the kind must pass for mere opinions, which will of course owe all their weight and value to the experience, acute observation, and sound judgement of the writer, and which must receive their tincture from his own temper, character, and social connexions.

But, without dwelling further upon the difficulty involved in part of the task which the Author has attempted, that of giving us a bird's-eye view of the moral world of the metropolis,-we shall proceed to offer our readers a few specimens of the various and amusing contents of his volumes.