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the old trail to the creek, and there we lost him ag'in. How in cre-aa-tion it was did, blast me if I could make out. There was the traps all right, but no coon. I jest took the slut and crossed over the creek and we hunted up and down the other bank for a mile above and below the log, but narry track did we find. Then I hunted the other side, but no better luck. Next night I tried it ag'in, and blast me if Beauty did n't get into one of the cussed traps, and like to a-sp'iled her fore leg. Here's the scar now.

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'Wall, folks, I went home and tuk sick immejetly. That thar coon troubled my mind tremenjusly, and the old 'oman could n't shet her jaw for a half a day on account of it. You 're a smart feller, you be,' sez she, to be bothered by a coon! You're a hunter, you are! O LORD!' and then she'd laff so provokin' like, it come near a killin' me. One day I jest got rippin' mad, and so I up and went down to the old log and cut it in two, so as to burn it up and fix the old cuss's bridge for him. When I'd got it half cut, blast me ef I did n't find a holler place in the middle, and there was mister coon, all safe. I settled his hash, now you'd better believe, quick! The critter would run and jump onto the eend of the log and go out to the middle of the creek, and there he jumped down onto a big flat stone and run into the holler on the under side.'

'No you do n't!'

Another explosion came near following, but the lawyer quelled it by quietly remarking, that he had no doubt Slumkeg was right—he'd seen stranger things himself.

'Animals sometimes very nearly approach reason in their cunning,' he remarked, in a sleepy, listless, and yet agreeably pleasant tone; 'I have n't any doubt of it. The physical elements of mind are possessed by almost all created animate things; and I doubt if the closest reasoner can tell where the faculty of instinct ends, and the reign of reason begins. Theory and fact draw one in a perfect maze, when he begins to speculate on the relative reasoning powers of men and animals. I have studied the subject long and earnestly, and could refer you to thousands of well-attested instances, where animal sagacity has apparently over-stepped the bounds of mere instinct to confound and perplex all our received opinions relative to the extent of reason in brutes. One I well remember, since it came within my own personal experience. With the permission of the company, I will relate it.'

The man's voice had a spell in it. He was disagreeable at sight, sleepy and dull in appearance, but spoke in a sweetly modulated tone; yet I fancied a sell was on the tapis, though he was apparently both too dull and too serious for a joke. At any rate I wavered a little in my opinion of him; though my companions were instantly won to any thing he chose to say. His voice certainly had a spell in it — I could n't help liking him, as he spoke; and I saw the rest were attracted more than myself.

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"Of all things in which one would look for sagacity,' he began, a snake is of the last; yet my story is of a snake, and a wise one, too. Men have studied them unkindly since the creation, when the GIVER of life pronounced them the most 'subtle of all the beasts of the field;'

and the consequence is that their wisdom and importance have been greatly overlooked and derided. Dull and stupid as they apparently are, yet they far excel, in intelligence and something like reason in emergencies, many animals supposed to be akin to man in the nobler attributes of physical life, as I shall prove.

'I got interested in the study of serpents down in Arkansas, where I spent most of last year. I don't know why, but I was constantly watching them, and constantly testing their sagacity, by placing them in new situations, and surrounding them with novel expedients. Of all kinds, I experimented most with rattle-snakes and copper-heads.

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One afternoon I seated myself on a little knoll in the woods to smoke and read, (for I always had a book or newspaper with me,) and had been enjoying myself for some time, when I espied a copper-head making for a hole within ten feet of where I sat. Of course I threw down my book and segar, and proceeded to try a new experiment. As soon as I stirred, the rascal made a grand rush for the hole; but I caught his tail, as he got nearly in, and jerked him some twenty feet backward. He threw himself into a coil in no time, and waited for me to pitch in. But I concluded to let him try the hole again. After awhile, he started for it, stopping when I stirred to coil himself up; but, as I kept pretty quiet, he recovered confidence, and again went in. Again I jerked him out. No sooner did he touch the ground than he made another grand rush for the hole, in a straight line for my legs! But that did n't work, for I got out of the way, and gave him another flirt.

This time he lay still awhile, appearing to reflect on the course to be taken. After a time he tried it again, though rather slowly. After getting his head a little way in, he stopped, and wiggled his tail as if on purpose for me to grab it. I did so; and quicker than a flash, he drew his head out and came within about a quarter-of-an-inch of striking me in the face! However, I jerked him quite a distance, and resolved to look out next time. Well, he tried the same game again; but it would n't work; I was too quick for him.

This time he lay in a coil perhaps half-an-hour without stirring. At last, however, he tried it once more. He advanced to within five feet of the hole very slowly, coiled again, and then, by heavens! he got the start of me by one of the 'cutest tricks you ever heard of!'

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How was it?' we all exclaimed in a breath.

Why,' said the narrator, sinking his voice to the acme of solemnity, and looking as honest and sober as a man could look, 'why, he just turned his head toward my hand, and went down that hole tail first! I saw the rascal's eyes twinkle as he did it, too; as much as to say: 'What do you think of that, eh?' and since then, I have believed that snakes have souls.'

There was a dead silence for a moment or two. The manner of the narrator had so impressed his auditors with the idea that he was telling the truth, that their brains were slow to credit the impression of a sell. After awhile, however, Old Slumkeg suffered the expression of credulity, which had gradually stolen over his features, to pass away, as the con

viction that he was bamboozled worked its way into his brain: and, rising to his feet, he exclaimed, quite excitedly :

That's a LIE! stranger; and if I thought you was imposin' on me, me if I would n't spoil your figger-head!'

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As for old No-you-Do-n't,' he remained so absorbed, as yet, in trying to get the whole meaning of the last end of the story through his wool, that his countenance yet wore the most puzzled expression I had seen in a long time. He was completely tangled up for the moment; but the roar that burst from the lawyer, the girl and myself, opened his eyes a little, and before our mirth had quite subsided, he had taken in the full extent of the sell.

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Sold, by Gorsh!' he exclaimed. Stranger, here's my hand on that; you're the first man that ever got the start of me and you'd better b'lieve that I never 'll b'lieve any thing ag'in !'

And during all the rest of the day he maintained a profound silence, and a crest-fallen appearance, which were irresistibly comical.

About night-fall we arrived at our journey's end and so ends my tale. I may yet resume the subject, and give the world a few more stage incidents; but enough for the nonce.

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LITERARY NOTICES.

THE COURT OF NAPOLEON: OR SOCIETY UNDER THE FIRST EMPIRE. BY FRANK B. GOOD. RICH, (DICK TINTO.) New-York: DERBY AND JACKSON, Number 119 Nassau-street.

Ir there was ever a temptation in the way of a book, it is this elegant volume. To see it in the hands of another man is to have all the envy in your nature rampant. To find it lying on a table, 'with nobody over near,' is almost sufficient to make one break the eighth commandment, unless one is possessed of a strong moral sense, like MACE SLOPER. 'Napoleon's Court' is one of the most beautiful specimens of American typography that we ever had the pleasure of admiring. The book is printed on a new font of pica type, cast expressly for the work, and bound in Turkey antique, with some very charming designs by SOMERVILLE. The illustrations, sixteen in number, from original portraits in the galleries of the Luxembourg and Versailles, are executed by M. JULES CHAMPAGNE, the most celebrated artist in this line in Paris. Each plate is colored by hand, and the number of sets used in a single edition must have cost the publishers a small fortune. The various periods treated of are illustrated by their remarkable women: the Reign of Terror by its heroines:

CHARLOTTE CORDAY and Madame ROLAND.

The Directory by its celebrated beauty, Madame TALLIEN; and the Consulate and Empire of NAPOLEON by the wits and belles of the Imperial era, namely:

Madame RECAMIER, whose love was sought by NAPOLEON and LUCIEN BONAPARTE, BERNADOTTE, MURAT, JUNOT, the MONTMORENCIES, (father and son,) AUGUSTUS, Prince of Prussia, and Lord WELLINGTON, and 'whose beauty threw at her feet every man who had once looked upon her.'

PAULINE BONAPARTE, the most beautiful princess in Europe, and whose fantastic and uncontrollable caprices gave her brother constant annoyance.

CAROLINE BONAPARTE, wife of MURAT, and Queen of Naples.

JOSEPHINE and MARIE LOUISE, the two Empresses.

HORTENSE DE BEAUHARNAIS, daughter of JOSEPHINE and mother of Louis NAPOLEON and the Count DE MORNY.

GRACE INGERSOLL, the belle of New-Haven, transferred by marriage to France, and subsequently one of the beauties who frequented the Court of the Tuileries.

Mdlle. DU COLOMBIER, NAPOLEON's first love, with whom he used to eat cherries at six .n the morning.

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