It is estimated that the annual catch on all the five great lakes will amount to at least one hundred thousand barrels of fish, worth a million of dollars. These fish are consumed in the Western and Southwestern States, among the farmers and planters, Chicago being the headquarters of the trade. They are inferior to mackerel or codfish, but, being sold at a lower price, the demand for them is extensive.

The Canadian and half-breed fishermen about the lakes use the Mackinaw boat, which seems to be built on the model of a bark canoe, flat in the bottom and sharp at the ends, which rise up with a sheer. They were originally intended for navigating the rivers as well as the lakes, for travelling on those great watery highways which extended from Montreal to St. Louis. On the lakes the voyagers use sails and a centre-board; on shallow waters they haul up the centre-board, and use oars or paddles.

The American fishermen who come up from the lower lakes use boats similar to those found on the seaboard, built with a keel, and much broader and deeper than the Mackinaw craft; and they say that their boats can outsail and outcarry the Mackinaw boats, both going free and closehauled.

We were surprised to hear this, as the Mackinaw boats have a great reputation in these regions; but on several occasions, when the two classes of boats contended together, we observed that the salt-water craft was victorious.

The fishermen at the head of Lake Michigan, about Chicago and Milwau

they use a boat the model of which they have brought from their stormy northern seas. It is much like the boat of Narraganset Bay-short and deep, and broad in the beam; with one mast, and a large boom-mainsail, with a jib for light winds.

"What do you find to do at Mackinac?" is a question often asked. First, you walk. It is the most charming place in the country for that exercise. The soil is dry, and never muddy. The island is covered with paths running through the bush, and winding about so pleasantly, that you can choose a new route every day. There is a leafy shade, a bracing air, fine views on every side, and no musquitoes. The few cows on the island are amiable; and except when an excursion-boat arrives, there seem to be no loafers or roughs--so that ladies can walk safely, unattended.

Secondly, you ride, you drive, and you sail. For shooting and fishing, the island affords little opportunity. There is no game, unless you choose to invest the crows with that name. As to fish, the neighboring waters abound with them, but they are not available to the angler. There are trout-streams on the mainland on both sides of the straits, but those who visit them with hopes of bringing home such strings of fish as we read of in Wilkes' Spirit of the Times, will be disappointed. To catch trout in summer, you must be on the ground very early or late in the day; and these streams being from ten to fifteen miles away, the only chance is to camp out overnight in the woods; and few amateur anglers will take that trouble.

Carp River, about fifteen miles to the northwest, is, or was, a good troutstream-indeed, one of the best we ever saw, twenty years ago-swift and clear, full of little falls, rapids, and deep pools, about fifty feet wide and from one to three feet deep, and with a clear margin of shore from which to throw the fly. But a sawmill has been built on its lower waters, which are of course spoiled for fishing; though above the

Hearing of a stream eight miles away to the southeast, a party was formed to visit it. Three ladies and three men appeared at the wharf at ten o'clock in the morning, out of a dozen who had wished to go the night before; but some were lazy, and some had headaches from too much dancing and icecream, overnight. We ran over in a sail-boat, with a light breeze, in two hours, trolling unsuccessfully for laketrout on the way. Our skipper, a fisherman from Lake Ontario, reckoned it was too late in the season for trolling. This was in August: in July it would have probably been too early.

We landed on a wild and desolate shore, heavily timbered with maple, beech, and pine, and found the natives prepared to resist our invasion, for they attacked us on sight, these tribes of Buzz and Hum. After snatching a hasty repast, one valiant lady and the three men marched, rod in hand, for the trout-brook. What might have been a brook in happier times, was now a thread of water at the bottom of a stony ravine, overgrown with bushes and briers. There was not water enough to float a minnow, except at the mouth of the stream, where there was a shallow pool separated from the lake by the inevitable sandbar, which is found at all the river-mouths, big and little, in these regions. We made our way up the stream about half a mile, where there had formerly been a sawmill, the ruined dam of which still

that no trout with the use of his fins would stay here. There had formerly been a cleared spot of land about the mill, but it was fast growing up into forest again. So, pursued by the triumphant musquitoes, we fled to our ships. We found the ladies encamped at the water's edge to escape the enemy, who, reinforced by all that could sting or bite-sand-flies, punkies, and greenheads seemed disposed to follow up their victory.

On looking about for the skipper, we found him and his boy wading in the pool at the mouth of the creek, and compelling the trout to be caught: they drove the fish to one end of the pool, and thrust the hook at them with so commanding an air, that they could do nothing but submit. In this rude and ferocious manner they absolutely captured three or four simple-minded little trout, the only ones taken that day. We, the skilled anglers, with rods, reels, and flies, were ignominiously beaten by these rude fishermen.

So we sailed away from the musquito shore, with swollen and discolored faces, resembling a huckleberry pudding.

The run home was delightful, and we were consoled for our defeat by the sight of one of the most magnificent of sunsets-brilliant even for that region, where the sky and clouds are always gorgeous. The heavens were turned to gold, rubies, topaz, and amethyst; and the water reflected them back, so that we seemed to sail through wavelets of purple fire.

THE Fables of Bidpai, or Kalila waDimna, as they are more commonly named from the principal piece in the Arabic version, are of great antiquity, and have ever been very famous in the East. This appears from the number of versions that have been made in the Oriental tongues. Their origin was undoubtedly Indian; the most remote appearance that can be traced being in an ancient Brahmanic book entitled Pantcha-tantra. The first translation was into the old Pehlvi language, of which there is a full account given in one of the Arabic Introductions. The book had become very famous for its wisdom, and for the ingenuity and elegance of its composition. On this account Nouschirewan, sovereign of Persia, was very desirous of obtaining a copy. This, however, was very difficult, as the book was jealously guarded by the Indian monarch, and great pains taken to prevent any copy or translation of it from being carried out of the country. A secret mission, therefore, was entrusted to the physician Barzouyeh, who went to India in disguise, became familiar with its learned men, obtained the confidence of one of them, and finally, by surreptitious means, succeeded in accomplishing his object. On his return to Persia, the only recompense he would receive was the king's promise that a special memoir of his mission should be written, and forever attached to the book. The Arabic version, in one of the introductions to which this memoir is found, was the work of Abdallah ben Al mokaffa, a man of Persian descent, but who became a Mohammedan in the time of the first Khalifs of the House of Abbas, Saffah and Mansour. Besides these, there were translations into the Syriac, and one into the later or Talmudic Hebrew made by Rabbi Joel. A Greek version was made at Constantinople by

the Byzantine writer Simeon Seth, or Simeon son of Seth, who lived under the emperors Nicephorus Botaniates and Alexis Comnenus, about the year 1080. This was made from the Arabic, and, though very defective, is of great use in determining various readings, and, sometimes, in fixing the meaning of corrupt and difficult passages. The first printed edition, under the added title of Specimen Sapientiæ Indorum, was by Sebastian Godofr. Stark, Berolini, 1697, with a Latin translation; another has lately been printed at Athens, date, 1851. From this Greek version, and the Arabic before mentioned, there have been made entire or partial translations into French and German, but none, to the writer's knowledge, have appeared in English.

The Arabic version, as published by De Sacy, de l'imprimerie royale, Paris, 1816, is a beautiful specimen of typography, and has an introduction giving all the information that could be procured respecting this curious and most ancient production.

In one of the Arabic introductions, ascribed to Bahnoud ben Sahwan, there is given the traditional account of its first Indian origin in the reign of Dabschelim, who obtained the throne after the departure of Alexander the Great. He was a monster of a tyrant, to whom no one dared to give counsel, until the dangerous office was assumed by a Brahmanic philosopher named Bidpai. He succeeded in gaining audience of the king, and in interesting him in these ingenious fables, wherein political and moral truths are presented in the language and actions of animals. Dabschelim admires their theoretical wisdom, and, finally, becoming a practical convert, reigns virtuously and gloriously under the philosopher's guidance. Each piece commences as a conversation between the king and Bidpai—the

former asking an illustration of some virtue in which he wishes to be confirmed, or of some vice to which a ruler is especially exposed, and the other replying by the narration of some one of the stories of which the book is composed.

The difference between this and all other collections of fables, ancient or modern, is very striking. There are the same leading animal characters, the lion, the eagle, the bear, &c., with the difference, that the jackal takes the place of the fox, and that there are introduced more of the smaller species. There are also the same animal traits, showing great acuteness and fixedness of zoological observation from the earliest times; but instead of being brief apologues, with a single event, and one brief moral deduced, like the Greek fables of Esop, or the Arabian of Lokman, they are long, continued histories, involving a great variety of events, having each their social or political aspects, forming a narration highly interesting in itself, exhibiting sometimes the most exquisite moral, and yet, with rare ingenuity, preserving the peculiar characteristics of each species. Thus, for example, in the principal story of king lion, and his friend the bull, who are set at variance. by the unprincipled jackal, the lion is alarmed at hearing for the first time the bull's deep bellow, so different from his own hoarse roar; he is not afraid, not he, but then there is something mysterious about it, and prudence is a virtue. And so again, the generous monarch resists the efforts of the crafty calumniator, by representing the difference of their habits-the one eating flesh and the other grass-as taking away all ground of rivalry in their intercourse. Sometimes, indeed, the philosopher seems to forget himself; the peculiar animal traits are lost sight of, and they are simply men talking, wisely or absurdly, in animal forms; but in general the dramatic proprieties are well observed. This, we think, will be seen in the one which we venture here to translate. The actors are taken from the least

powerful of the animal tribes; and this is essential to the dramatic design, which is to show how the varied adaptation of different gifts, even of the smallest kind, builds up a secure society for the weak, inspiring mutual confidence, and giving mutual help, even against the most powerful foes. Granting them speech, and a measure of reason adapted to their state, every thing else is in accordance with their animal ways and instincts, whilst the whole presents a picture of quiet friendship, of charming constancy, of tender mutual regard, from which our lordly race may derive a lesson of practical wisdom not to be despised. The pervading moral, Love is strength, is one that appears in the aphorisms and in the songs of Scripture. See Prov. xxx. 24-28, Canticles viii. 7.

In this introductory notice, we would only farther advert to one feature pervading the collection, and furnishing internal evidence, not only of the antiquity, but of the wide influence of these fables in the East, as shown even in the modifications they have received. The various versions, although presenting substantially the same events, and, in great part, the same unbroken narration, do yet show differences arising from the peculiar coloring that religious ideas have assumed in different lands, and as they have passed through successive ages. Some pious animal, such as a devout jackal, a very virtuous lion, in one place a very pious cat, and in another a very hypocritical one who makes religion a cloak for her atrocities, is quite a favorite personification. This recluse character has, in the original Pantcha-tantra, or Indian legend, quite an ascetic aspect, is very quietistic, eats no flesh-in other words, shows the predominance of Brahmanic and Buddhist ideas. In the Persian (ante-islamic) it has more of the Magian look. In the Arabic, the pious fox, &c., is an orthodox Mohammedan, a Nasek, or extraordinary devotee, who is ever attentive to the call of the Muezzin, says extra prayers, quotes the Koran, and makes extra pilgrimages to

Mecca. In the Greek version of Simeon Seth, on the other hand, he has become a decided monk or hermit; to accommodate him ablutions are turned into penance, and sometimes the translator renders Arabic phrases by literal quotations from the Scriptures. Not content with this, Simeon Seth sometimes makes all the animals talk Homerically, and parodies, in this way, entire hexameters from the Iliad or the Odyssey. In the story here given, however, there are no decidedly religious characters; they are animals purely natural, unsophisticated, unindoctrinated, and presenting only an amiable and natural morality. It is selected for its purity of diction, its beautiful simplicity of narration, and as having a convenient measure of extent between the longer and the shorter pieces.

The translation from the Arabic is made as idiomatic and as colloquial as possible, whilst, at the same time, faithful to the spirit of the words as well as to the exact truth of the thought. It is entitled,

BAB ALHAMAMAT ALMOTAWWAKAT,

that is,

CHAPTER OF THE RING-DOVE.

Said Dabschelim, the king, to Bidpai the philosopher: I have heard from you the story of the two friends, and how a liar made division between them, and all how the matter ended; now tell me, if you know any story of the kind, about true and constant friends, and how their friendship commenced, and how they mutually helped each other. Said the philosopher, The truly wise man will regard nothing as of equal account with friends; for they are helpers in prosperity, and consolers in adversity; and among the histories to this effect is that of the ring-dove, and the field-mouse, and the deer, and the raven. How was that? said the king. They say, said Bidpai, that in the land of Sakawindajina there was a certain city by the name of Daher, and near that city a place abounding in game, to

which huntsmen were constantly resorting. Now there was in this place a tree with numerous limbs, and thick covering leaves, and in this tree a raven had his nest. It happened then, one day, as the raven was settling into his nest, that, lo and behold, a huntsman made his appearance. A vile-looking fellow he was, and of most evil intent. On his shoulder he carried his net and in his hand a staff. As he drew nigh the tree, the raven was terribly frightened. Surely, said he, this man comes here for my destruction, or the destruction of my neighbors; and so I will remain quietly in my place, until I see what he is about. Then the huntsman fixed his net, and when he had spread the grain upon it, and hid himself close by, he had to wait but a very short time, when, lo and behold, there passed by a dove called the ring-dove, and with her a great many other doves. As neither she nor her companions saw the net, they fell upon the grain, and began to pick it up, when suddenly the net closed and had them all as fast as a locked door. The huntsman was coming up with great joy, when all the doves began to struggle in the cords, each one seeking only his own freedom. Hold, said the ring-dove; do not thus defeat your own effort, by being each one of you more concerned for himself than for his neighbor; but let us all help, and all pull together upon the net, and we shall every one escape. Then they all pulled together, each one helping the other, and up they went into the air, net and all. The huntsman, however, did not despair of catching them; for he thought that they would only go a short distance before dropping down. Now, says the raven, will I follow on and see what becomes of these fellows. Just then the ringdove turned short round, and saw the huntsman following. Here he comes, said she; he is close after us. Now if we take the way of the open country, it will be impossible for us to escape his eye, and he will keep right on in pursuit; but if we go the way the fields and forests, he will lose sight

of