did not reach the spot till fifty-two days after the vessel had been
lost; and dreadful to relate, three miserable sufferers were found on
board. Sixty men had been abandoned there by their magnanimous
countrymen. All these had been carried off except seventeen, some of
whom were drunk, and others refused to leave the vessel. They remained
at peace as long as their provisions lasted. Twelve embarked on board a
raft, for Sahara, and were never more heard of. Another put to sea on a
hen-coop, and sunk immediately. Four remained behind, one of whom,
exhausted with hunger and fatigue, perished. The other three lived in
separate corners of the wreck, and never met but to run at each other
with drawn _knives_. They were put on board the vessel, with all that
could be saved from the wreck of the Medusa.

The vessel was no sooner seen returning to St. Louis, than every heart
beat high with joy, in the hope of recovering some property. The men and
officers of the Medusa jumped on board, and asked if any thing had been
saved. "Yes," was the reply, "but it is all ours now;" and the naked
Frenchmen, whose calamities had found pity from the Moors of the desert,
were now deliberately plundered by their own countrymen.

A fair was held in the town, which lasted eight days. The clothes,
furniture, and necessary articles of life belonging to the men and
officers of the Medusa, were publicly sold before their faces. Such of
the French as were able, proceeded to the camp at Daceard, and the sick
remained at St. Louis. The French governor had promised them clothes and
provisions, but sent none; and during five months, they owed their
existence to strangers--to the British.

HUNTING THE MOOSE.

The habits of the moose, in his manner of defence and attack, are
similar to those of the stag, and may be illustrated by the following
anecdote from the "Random Sketches of a Kentuckian:"

Who ever saw Bravo without loving him? His sloe-black eyes, his glossy
skin, flecked here and there with blue; his wide-spread thighs, clean
shoulders, broad back, and low-drooping chest, bespoke him the true
stag-hound; and none, who ever saw his bounding form, or heard his
deep-toned bay, as the swift-footed stag flew before him, would dispute
his title. List, gentle reader, and I will tell you an adventure which
will make you love him all the more.

A bright, frosty morning in November, 1838, tempted me to visit the
forest hunting-grounds. On this o