for a crown; working so sly that himself hardly suspects it. Then as he attempts to hook it up, behold! the Cæsar catches a dagger. But these are minor personages; let us along to where some of the true heroes dwell. "

"Stay one moment, Alexa, and tell me whose shade is that queer looking form yonder, who seems so well pleased with himself and his employment. " "Cicero is ever busy in fishing for smooth, sweetsounding words; and when he has caught them, he joins them together, into many a long-toned sentence, making the apartments of the land of Night ring with his eloquence, until the Furies send the revengeful Fulvia to pierce his tongue with a bodkin. " "But Alexa, now I see one who is surely mad; can any man think to catch a world, although he might fish an eternity?" "Yes, the noble Columbus shall be the most successful of the Piscatorians-he shall fish up a new world! and mark those envious spirits, who are continually fastening chains and manacles upon his hook." Alas! thought Achates as he travelled on, there are strange things in this lower world. He had not gone far, when he suddenly burst into a violent fit of laughter, and desired to know, "what odd soul they had encountered now." "Yes, you are right, he is an odd soul, who will find a body in some far country, and it will be Shakespeare's task to fish for oddities. Well may you laugh at him, for his wit shall keep the world in one broad roar of laughter for centuries after his death."--" And what great, clumsy, sour-looking form is that near him?” "John Bull, the redoubtable. One who will busy himself in fishing for haunches of roast-beef--fat oxen, roasted whole, for his dinner, and at night dream of a most grievous famine. Surely the sight of such a wonder must satisfy you; let us hasten along, lest the time of your visit expire. "This once, Alexa; explain to me these two, who are close at hand, and I will follow you in silence." "The first bears the form of an eagle and of an ape--Voltaire has the blackest soul of all your posterity; for an evil spirit has long practised him at the art of fishing for mens' souls, taking care that he shall at last hook up a bed of thorns to die upThat bustling little man near him is the Warrior-fisher. He is to fish for crowns and kingdoms, with whole troops of men for his bait, and shall catch at last--an Island of rocks!

on.

"A strange set of children," muttered Achates as he walked along, "but well worthy of their father--but, Alexa, is it true that all these are to be my descendants ?--Oh! I would that you had lired to have been their grandmother "- "Cease your joking, but follow

me and I will show you those who are giants, when compared with these pigmies. The heroes who will dwell in a far country-far beyond the pillars of Hercules, and show themselves the mightiest of the noble race of Fishers. When thirty centuries shall have rolled their round, they will arrive at the full stature of their greatness.-Then will the Piscatorians of Columbia overcome all the other inhabitants--fish up their purses, their offices and all the honors that men can bestow. Finally, they will fish up the whole world, and all the other inhabitants be exterminated. Then shall come the "golden age" of the Piscatorians. Fortunate will it be for those who shall live in Columbia at the end of the thirty centuries; when the Piscatorians shall all have wealth, honors and office.

Already are we arrived at the place where these brave spirits sojourn; and O Achates, I congratulate you on the happy fortune to be blessed with such glorious descendants. Mark their majestic appearance, and as I repeat them, remember the high sounding names of those who are to usher in the "golden age. "First comes ***ownin ***avy **ocket ****Mar *****Bigele ****oyal *ll* M******ell Houst ****

ms urr

_*n.

CHAPTER VI.

"Annette, I would that the Stranger's ghost had fished for you, and caught you too, before you had burned these manuscripts so. "Mr. Logan

"It is strange how one could be guilty of such inexcusable carelessness. Your folly has been my ruin. "

"Mr. Logan 99

"And it is strange that the fire should consume this most important part of each roll, and not entirely destroy it."

"Had it not been for this piece of carelessness, my name might have stood high in the remembrance of my countrymen.

tr

Why Mr. Logan, I ”

"Have prevented me from promulgating the most important news, that was ever sounded in the ears of men. Oh! how would those fortunate ones, whose names were inscribed on the roll, have been rejoiced to hear the wonderful tidings, that they were of such noble extraction, and destined to act so important a part in establishing the supremacy of the Piscatorians over the whole world. ”

"Mr. Logan, all that I can do, to remunerate you, is to ". "Just at the time mentioned by the prophetic Alexa---the thirty centuries expired, and those now on the stage, who are to usher in the Golden Age of the Piscatorians--their names all recorded, and perhaps my own among the rest, when instigated by the Genius of ill luck, or, for aught I know, a more evil spirit, you must set fire to these invaluable treasures, destroy all possibility of ever regaining the lost secret, and nip my embryo fame in the very bud, when a few days more would have seen it blossoming into most glorious renown. Ah! Annette, most fatal have you been to my hopes of glory."

"Mr. Logan, I confess my curiosity has been no small detriment to you; and I know that a careless, indiscreet girl, like myself, would be but a pitiful remuneration for such a loss as that of the Piscatorian writings; but-yet-although I-I”—

We do sincerely wish that it was in our power to gratify the reader with the remainder of their conversation; but, unfortunately, that is, like the most important part of the Stranger's Manuscripts, forever lost to the world. We have no doubt, it would prove eminently interesting, and feel more desirous to serve our courteous and patient readers in some way, in return for their kindness in following us through our long and tideous course. Only two months ago we were traversing Lake Champlain, in the Phoenix; since that time we have seen the Stranger's ashes, deposited beneath the great Sycamore, been present at the sacking of Troy, made a call in Africa, landed in Europe, visited the Land of Night, and in some way, we scarce know how, managed to arrive at home again in safety. Yet, after all our peregrinations, the grand consummation of our object is not yet attained-the entire History of the Piscatorians is not yet unravelled. But let not the world despair; there is yet a host of untranslated Manuscripts remaining, and although it is not in Logan's power to translate them, he has taken measures to availhimself of the aid of that eminent tourist and scholar, the Rev. I. K. Fiddler, whose philological powers are competent to every language, save the "unknown tongue" of the Ex-Rev. Mr. Irving ; and if there be any thing marvellous, or calculated to cast the least ray of light upon a subject of so great importance to Americans, we have no doubt it will be forthcoming. We may not lay the pages of the Philomathesian under any farther contribution with our prosing chapters; but there are certain ominous appearances, which warrant us in saying that the world have not yet heard the last of the PISCATORIANS. S. S.

THE BURIED FAMILY. A FRAGMENT.

* The gathered throng,

Left silently the grave, where they had laid

One who had seen few years, but much of love.
An hour had passed, and the thick damps of night
Were gathering on the turf; but there was one
Deaned still above that little mound, with grief
Such as but one could feel; and while she knelt,
With her hands clasped in agony, and gave
That shrine such offering of tears, I knew
It was a mother by her infant's grave.
That grave was not alone: beyond it stood,
A tall, broad marble, and between were set
Four, that were tokens of the early dead;
And this was by their side, the last and least.
It may be, as we count such ranks of graves,
We deem them very sad; but there are those
That feel them such, and reckon them in tears.
She rose, and seemed to number these again;
And, as she passed each stone, a deepening woe
Wrung from her bitterer wailing. Here were all'
She had to bury, and the task was done.

And she, the widowed and the childless now--
May Heaven be with her, for her world is gone!
And, as she turned away, a crushing sense

Of unshared wretchedness came o'er her soul;
And the wild eloquence of such a grief
Leaped swiftly to a voice:

"My last-Oh God! my last is gone! and might not one be leftOne treasure to my smitten heart, of other joys bereft ?

'Twas much to give those to the grave-but, Oh! 'twas not to be As now in desolate loneliness with none to weep with me!

"There stood by me upon this spot, in other days of grief,
Those who could share with me my woe, and love me, a relief;
And so my heart broke not to feel its jewels, one by one,
Torn from it, for it held a hope-alas! to be with none !

"With none! and I must tread the hall, now desolately lone, That once I trod in wealth of bliss, with many a welcoming one; I shall not meet them there again, fallen idols of my breastAnd thou, my last and loveliest, they've laid thee with the rest. "And I am now alone on earth, a last rush on the tide When all that floated with it once have perished from its side: knew that life was full of tears, for I had wept before

But Oh! to weep in loneliness o'er hopes that come no more!"

The Collegian's Magazine.

THE first Number of this work, published at WILLIAMS ColLEGE, is lying before us; and we feel pressed in spirit to do it immediate attentions. Though, in its style and execution, it is inférior to most College Periodicals of the day, its appearance is sufficiently respectable. We have read a number of its articles with pleasure; they at least approximate, in some things, to the freshness and novelty so prominently professed in the Editorial creed. Still we doubt if this Number would maintain its complement of pages, if from them, according to that modest creed, "all puling lovestories, daring robberies and poetry with but half an idea to the page, were totally and forever banished." Vide "Jim Roly," "The Adventures of a Pickpocket," "Stanzas," and certain gurgling rhymes "To a Brook," surpassed in our estimation by the poetry of many a moderate rill. In some other pieces we did imagine Homer nodded. On the whole, the prose is well done, and is far superior to the metrical compositions. We speak thus plainly with one eye on its Editor's words, "We ask no mercy,” and in the other, "Woe to that Editor who reviles us," and half tearlet of terror in each, to think how dread may be that malediction. The ineffable bigness and cute air of bullyism, with which this work is announced, would better fit the champion of some party print, than the Editor of a College Periodical.

"We would not be the aggressor; but we do long for a provocation. It is with the utmost difficulty we have subdued our satirical propensity in this Number. Two thirds of our paper, at least, we dedicate to Momus. We intend to be witty, satirical, keen, in short, the very Blackwood of College Periodicals. Sadness shall find no favor with us. We will excite a smile, though it be but a smile of contempt."

They have not utterly failed. No one will gainsay the keenness of their remark, that dullness is quite dull, nor the justice with which the Shrine and the Undergraduate are named in proof; but we mistake, or their own Adelphi were a still better argument. Noticing the Knickerbocker, they discover it, with the exception of the three first Numbers, to be "miserably dull and prosaic." After this valorous, prelimenary snap, its generous jaws are turned full upon the Hermethenean, the Periodical of Washington College. Whether the following lines stare most with misrepresentation or misbreeding, we cannot say :