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to me, almost sublime spectacle, an immense drove of wild horses, for a long time hovering around our path across the prairie. I had often seen great numbers of them before, mixed with other animals, apparently quiet, and grazing like the rest. Here there were thousands unmixed, unemployed; their motions, if such a comparison might be allowed, as darting, and as wild as those of hummingbirds on the flowers.
The tremendous snorts, with which the front columns of the phalanx made known their approach to us, seemed to be their wild and energetic way of expressing their pity and disdain, for the servile lot of our horses, of which they appeared to be taking a survey.
They were of all colors, mixed, spotted, and diversified with every hue, from the brightest white to clear and shining black; and of every form and structure, from the long and slender racer, to those of firmer limbs and heavier mould; and of all ages, from the curvetting colt, to the range of patriarchal steeds, drawn up in a line, and holding their high heads for a survey of us, in the rear.
Sometimes they curved their necks, and made no more progress than just enough to keep pace with our advance. Then there was a kind of slow and walking minuet, in which they performed various evolutions, with the precision of the figures of a country-dance. Then a rapid movement shifted the front to the rear. But still, in all their evolutions and movements, like the flight of seafow), their lines were regular, and free from all indications of contusion.
At times a spontaneous and sudden movement towards us almost inspired the apprehension of a united attack upon us. After a moment's advance, a short and a rapid retrograde movement •seemed to testify their proud estimate of their wild independence. The infinite variety of their rapid movements, their tamperings and maneuvres, were of such a wild and almost terrific character, that it required but a moderate stretch of fancy to suppose them the genii of these grassy plains.
At one period they were formed for an immense depth in front of us. A wheel, executed almost with the rapidity of thought, presented them hovering on our flanks. Then, again, the cloud of dust, that enveloped their movements, cleared away, and presented them in our rear. They evidently operated as a great annoyance to the horses and mules of our cavalcade. The frighted movements, the increased indications of fatigue, sufficiently evidenced, with their frequent neighings, what unpleasant neighbors they considered their wild compatriots to be.
So much did our horses appear to suffer from fatigue and terror, in consequence of their vicinity, that we were thinking of some way to drive them off; when on a sudden, a patient and laborious donkey of the establishinent, who appeared to have regarded all their movements with philosophic indifference, pricked up his long ears, and gave a loud and most sonorous bray from his vocal shells.
Instantly this prodigious multitude, and there were thousands of them, took what the Spanish call the “ stompado.” With a trampling like the noise of thunder, or still more like that of an earthquake, a noise that was absolutely appalling, they took to their heels, and were all in a few moments invisible in the verdant depths of the plains, and we saw them no more,
THE CORSAIR'S ATTACK.
[This extract, from THE CORSAIR, is marked by all its great author's Wondrous power of description, and electric passion. It was selected by the late gifted authoress and actress MRS. MOWATT to first face a Boston audience with. She displayed such force, elegance and fervid eloquence in the recitation as to extort enthusiastic applause from the most critical audience that ever graced the “ Templo" Hall in the Modern Athens. There is ample opportunity for both descriptive and dramatic ability to be shown in the recitation.)
In Coron's bay floats many a galley light,
His summond prows collect along the coast,
arms are strong yet merciful to-day,
High in his hall reclines the turban’d Seyd;
With cautious reverence from the outer gate,
His step was feeble, and his look depressid ;
“Whence com'st thou, Dervise ?”
6 From the outlaw's den, “A fugitive"
“ Thy capture were and when po 6 From Scalanova's port to Scio's isle. The Saick was bound; but Alla did not smile Upon our course, the Moslem merchant's gains The Rovers won : our limbs have worn their chains. I had no death to fear, nor wealth to boast, Beyond the wandering freedom which I lost; At length a fisher's humble boat by night Afforded hope, and offer'd chance of flight; I seized the hour, and find my safety here With thee, most mighty Pacha, who can fear ?"
“How speed the outlaws ? stand they well prepared Their plunder'd wealth, and robber's rock, to guard ? Dream they of this our preparation, doom'd To view with fire their scorpion nest consumed ?" “Pacha! the fetter'd captive's mourning eye, That weeps for flight, but ill can play the spy; I only heard the reckless waters roar, Those waves that would not bear me from the shore I only mark’d the glorious sun and sky, Too bright-too blue—for my captivity; And telt, that all which freedom's bosom cheers, Must break my chain before it dried my tears. This mayst thou judge, at least, from my escape, They little deem of aught in peril's shape; Else vainly had I pray'd or sought the charice That leads me here, if eyed with vigilance : The careless guard that did not see me fly, May watch as idly when thy power is nigh. Pacha! my limbs are faint, and nature craves Food for my hunger, rest from tossing waves : Permit my absence, peace be with thee! Peace With all around ! now grant repose, release.”
“Stay, Dervise! I have more to question, stay,
“ Salt seasons dainties—and my food is still
That peril rests upon my single head;
Well-is thou wilt-ascetic as thou art-