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wrote several novels, the best being " Elsie Venner," but they do not take rank with his poetry or even his other prose writings. As a poet Dr. Holmes is noted for wit and humor. As a song writer he has had few equals in America.

I

LOVE to hear thine earnest voice,

Wherever thou art hid,

Thou testy little dogmatist,

Thou pretty Katydid!

Thou mindest me of gentle folks,
Old gentle folks are they,-
Thou sayest an undisputed thing
In such a solemn way.

Thou art a female, Katydid!

I know it by the trill

That quivers through thy piercing notes,

So petulant and shrill;

I think there is a knot of you
Beneath the hollow tree, -
A knot of spinster Katydids, -
Do Katydids drink tea?

O tell me where did Katy live,
And what did Katy do?
And was she very fair and young,
And yet so wicked, too?
Did Katy love a naughty man,

Or kiss more cheeks than one?

I warrant Katy did no more
Than many a Kate has done.

Dear me! I'll tell you all about
My fuss with little Jane,

And Ann, with whom I used to walk

So often down the lane,

And all that tore their locks of black,
Or wet their eyes of blue,-
Pray tell me, sweetest Katydid,
What did poor Katy do?

Ah no! The living oak shall crash,
That stood for ages still,

The rock shall rend its mossy base

And thunder down the hill,

Before the little Katydid

Shall add one word, to tell

The mystic story of the maid

Whose name she knows so well.

FERDINAND DE SOTO

ROBERT MACKENZIE

ERDINAND DE SOTO had been with Pizarro in his

FER

expedition to Peru, and returned to Spain enriched by his share of the plunder. He did not doubt that in the north were cities as rich and barbarians as confiding. An expedition to discover new regions and plunder their inhabitants was fitted out under his command. No one doubted that success, equal to that of Cortez and Pizarro, would attend this new adventure. The youth of Spain were eager to be permitted to go, and they sold houses and lands to buy them the needful equipment.

Six hundred men, in the prime of life, were chosen from the crowd of applicants, and the expedition sailed,

high in courage, splendid in aspect, boundless in expectation. They landed on the coast of Florida, and began their march into the wilderness. They had fetters for the Indians whom they meant to take captive. They had bloodhounds, lest these captives should escape. The camp swarmed with priests, and as they marched, the festivals and processions enjoined by the Church were devoutly observed.

From the outset it was a toilsome and perilous enterprise; but to the Spaniard of that time danger was a joy. The Indians were warlike, and generally hostile. De Soto had pitched battles to fight and heavy losses to bear. Always he was victorious, but he could ill afford the cost of many such victories. The captive Indians amused him with tales of regions where gold abounded. They had learned that ignorance on that subject was very hazardous. De Soto had stimulated their knowledge by burning to death some who denied the existence of gold in that country. The Spaniards wandered slowly northward. They looked eagerly for some great city, the plunder of whose palaces and temples would enrich them all. They found nothing better than occasionally an Indian town, composed of a few miserable huts. It was all they could do to get needful food. At length they came to a magnificent river. European eyes had seen no such river till now. It was about a mile in breadth, and its mass of water swept downward to the sea with a current of amazing strength. It was the Mississippi. The Spaniards built vessels and ferried themselves to the western bank.

There they resumed their wanderings. De Soto would not yet admit that he had failed. He still hoped that the

plunder of a rich city would reward his toils. For many months the Spaniards strayed among the swamps and dense forests of that dreary region. The natives showed at first some disposition to be helpful. But the Spaniards in their disappointment were pitiless and savage. They amused themselves by inflicting pain upon the prisoners. They cut off their hands; they hunted them with bloodhounds; they burned them at the stake. The Indians became dangerous. De Soto sought to awe them by claiming to be one of the gods, but the imposture was too palpable. "How can a man be a god when he cannot get bread to eat?" asked a sagacious savage. It was now three years since De Soto had landed in America. The utter failure of the expedition could no longer be concealed, and the men wished to return home. Broken in spirit and in frame, De Soto caught a fever and died. His soldiers felled a tree and scooped room within its trunk for the body of the ill-fated adventurer. They could not bury their chief on land, lest the Indians should dishonor his remains. In the silence of midnight the rude coffin was sunk in the Mississippi, and the discoverer of the great river slept beneath its waters.

The survivors promptly resolved now to make their way to Cuba. They had tools, and wood was abundant. They slew their horses for flesh; they plundered the Indians for bread; they struck the fetters from their prisoners to reënforce their scanty supply of iron. They built ships enough to float them down the Mississippi. Three hundred ragged and disheartened men were all that remained of the brilliant company whose hopes had been so high, whose good fortune had been so much envied.

POCAHONTAS

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY

William Makepeace born in India in 1811.

THACKERAY

Thackeray was an Englishman who was
He was educated at Trinity College. He

wrote poems, humorous sketches, news-
paper articles, and lectured extensively.
He is best known as a novelist, his most
famous novels being "Vanity Fair,"

66

The Newcomes," "Henry Esmond," and "The Virginians."

WEARIED arm and broken

sword

Wage in vain the desperate

fight;

Round him press a countless horde,

He is but a single knight.

Hark! A cry of triumph shrill
Through the wilderness resounds,
As, with twenty bleeding wounds,
Sinks the warrior, fighting still.

Now they heap the funeral pyre,
And the torch of death they light;
Ah, 'tis hard to die by fire!

Who will shield the captive knight?
Round the stake with fiendish cry

Wheel and dance the savage crowd;
Cold the victim's mien and proud,

And his breast is bared to die.