has got self, the universal self, under perfect
mastery? See yonder huge bull-alligator swimming hitherward out of the
swamp. Even as you point he turns again in alarm and is gone. Once he
was man's terror, Leviathan. The very lions of Africa and the
grizzlies of the Rockies, so they tell us, are no longer the bold
enemies of man they once were. "Subdue the earth"--it is being done.
Science and art, commerce and exploration, are but parts of religion.
Help us, brothers all, with every possible discovery and invention to
complete the conquest begun in that lost garden whence man and woman
first came forth, not for vengeance but for love, to bruise the
serpent's head. But as yet, both within us and without us, what
terrible revolts doth Nature make! what awful victories doth she have
over us, and then turn and bless and serve us again!

As the sun was rising, one of the timber-cutters from the steamer
stood up in his canoe about half a mile away, near the wood and beside
some willows, and halloed and beckoned. And when those on the steamer
hearkened he called again, bidding them tell "de boss" that he had
found a canoe adrift, an anchored boat, and a white man in her, dead.

Tarbox and St. Pierre came in a skiff.

"Is he drowned?" asked Mr. Tarbox, while still some distance off.

"Been struck by lightnin' sim like," replied the negro who had found
the body.--"Watch out, Mistoo Tah-bawx!" he added, as the skiff drew
near; "dat boat dess lousy wid snake'!"

Tarbox stood up in the skiff and looked sadly upon the dead face.
"It's our man," he said to St. Pierre.

"Dass what I say!" exclaimed the negro. "Yes, seh, so soon I see him I
say, mos' sholy dass de same man what Mistoo Tah-bawx lookin' faw to
show him 'roun' 'bout de swamp! Yes, seh, not-instandin' I never see
him befo'! No, seh.--Lawd! look yondeh! look dat big bahsta'd
hawn-snake! He kyant git away: he's hu't! Lawd! dass what kill dat
man! Dat man trawmp on him in de dark, and he strack him wid his hawny
tail! Look at dem fo' li'l' spot' on de man' foot! Now, Mistoo
Tah-bawx! You been talk' 'bout dem ah bahsta'd hawn-snake not pizen!
Well, mos' sholy dey _bite_ ain't pizen; but if dat hawn on de een of
his tail dess on'y tetch you, you' gone! Look at dat man! Kill' him so
quick dey wa'n't time for de place to swell whah he was hit!" But
Tarbox quietly pointed out to St. Pierre that the tiny wounds were
made by the reptile's teeth.

"The coroner's verdict wil