and hardened with the glue that was taken from its hoofs; its boss was the skin of the pole-cat, and its edges were fringed with rows of eagles'-quills and hoofs of the antelope. "The Bow was of boue, and as white and beautiful as ivory; over its back was laid, and firmly attached to it, a coating of deers' sinews, which gave it elasticity. Its string was three-stranded and twisted of sinews, which many a time had twanged, and sent the whizzing death to animal and to human victims.

"The Quiver was made of a panther's skin, hung upon his back, charged with arrows, some poisoned; they were feathered with hawk and eagle quills; some were clean, innocent, and pure, and others were stained with animal and human blood, dried upon them. Their blades or points were of flints and some of steel; and altogether this was a deadly magazine.

"The Lance, or spear, was in his left hand its blade was two-edged and of polished steel, and the blood of several human victims was dried upon it; its shaft was of the toughest ash, and ornamented with tufts of war-eagles' quills.

"His Tobacco-sack was made of the skin of an otter, and tastefully garnished with quills of the porcupine; in it was carried his knick-k'neck, (the bark of the red willow, which is smoked as a substitute for tobacco); it contained also his flint and steel, and touch-wood for lighting.

"His Pipe, which was ingeniously carved out of the red steatite, (or soap-stone,) had a stem of ash, three feet long; about half its length was wound with delicate braids of porcupine quills, so ingeniously wrought as to represent figures of men and animals. It was also ornamented with the skins and beaks of wood peckers, and the hair of the white buffalo's tail. The lower half of the stem was painted red, and its edges bore the notches he had recorded for the snows (or years) of his life.

"His Robe was made of the skin of a young buffalo bull, with the fur on one side, and the other finely dressed; with all the battles of his life emblazoned on it by his own hand. His Belt was of stout buckskin, and was firmly girded around his waist; and in it were worn his tomahawk and scalping knife.

"His Medicine bag was of the skin of a beaver, curiously ornamented with hawks' bills and ermine. It was held in his right hand; and his war-club, made of a round stone, tied up in a piece of raw hide, and attached to the end of a stick, somewhat in the form of a sling, was laid, with other weapons, at his feet.

"Such was the dress of Mah-to-toh-pa when he entered my wigwam to stand for his picture: but such I have not entirely represented it in his portrait; having rejected such trappings and ornaments as interfered with the grace and simplicity of the figure. He was beautifully and extravagantly dressed; and in this he was not alone, for hundreds of others were equally elegant. In plumes, in arms, and ornaments, he is not singular; but in laurels and wreaths he stands unparalleled. His breast has been bared and scarred in defence of his country, and his brows crowned with honours that elevated him conspicuous above all of his nation. There is no man amongst the Mandans so generally loved, nor any one who wears a robe so justly famed and honourable as that of Mah-to-toli-pa.”

This chief presented Mr. Catlin with a beautiful robe, containing all the battles of his life, which he had spent two weeks in copying from the original robe, which he wore on his shoulders. This chart of his military life bangs in the Gallery, and is engraved in the work before us: it represents combats, war-horses, &c. The entire series is minutely described.

The following, is perhaps, one of the most extraordinary exploits of this remarkable man's life; it is well attested, and is represented on the robe. In a skirmish, near the Mandan village, when set upon by enemies, the Riccarees, the brother of Mah-to-toh-pa was missing for several days, when the chief Mah-to-toh-pa found the body shockingly mangled, with a spear left piercing the heart. This spear

"Let every

was recognized as belonging to a noted Riccaree, named Won-ga-tap; and Mah-to-toh-pa brandished it through the village, (with the blood of his brother dried on its blade,) crying most piteously, and swearing that he would some day revenge the death of his brother with the same weapon. He kept this spear in his wigwam for four years, without discovering the destroyer of his brother; when his indignant soul again burst forth in uncontrollable frenzy and fury; and brandishing it through the village, he again called loudly for revenge. Mandan," said he, " be silent, and let no one sound the name of Mah-to-toh-pa-let no one ask for him, nor where he is gone, until you hear him sound the war-cry in front of the village, when he will enter it, and show you the blood of Won-ga-tap. The blade of this lance shall drink the heart's blood of Won-ga-tap, or Mah-totoh-pa mingles his shadow with that of his brother." With this, he sallied forth, lance in hand, towards the Riccaree village; the Mandans not daring to speak till he had disappeared. He travelled 200 miles entirely alone, with a little parched corn in his pouch, searching by night, and lying secreted by day, until he reached the Riccaree village: there he mixed with the natives till late at night: then, through the rents of the wigwam, he watched his victim, as he retired to rest with his wife; and as the embers flickered out, he walked softly into the wigwam, and seated himself by the fire, over which was hanging a large pot, with cooked meat in it; and knowing that the light in the wigwam was not sufficient to disclose his features to his enemy, he deliberately turned to the pot, and from its contents satiated the desperate appetite, which he had got in a journey of six or seven days, with little or nothing to eat; and then as deliberately, he charged and lighted his enemy's pipe, (left by the fire,) and sent, (no doubt, in every whiff that he drew through its stem,) a prayer to the Great Spirit for a moment longer for the consummation of his design. While eating and smoking, the wife of his victim several times inquired of her husband, what man it was who was eating in their lodge? to which he as often replied: "It's no matter; let him eat, for he is probably hungry." Mah-to-toh-pa knew full well that his appearance would cause no other reply than this, from the dignitary of the nation; for by an invariable custom among these Northern Indians, any one who is hungry is allowed to walk into any man's lodge, and eat. As Mah-to-toh-pa took his last whiff, he stirred the embers with his toes, and by their light, seeing his way, he seized his lance, rose and darted it through the body of his enemy; then, snatching the scalp from his head, he darted from the lodge, and made for his prairie! The village was in an uproar, but no one knew the cause. Mah-to-toh-pa ran all night, and lay concealed during the day; thanking the Great Spirit for strengthening his heart and arm for this noble revenge; and praying fervently for protection til! he should reach his own village. This he did, on the sixth morning, at sunrise, amidst the shouts of the people; brandishing his lance, with the blood of his victim dried upon it, over that of his brother, and the scalp of Won-ga-tap suspended from its handle!

In the portrait is seen an eagle-quill balanced horizontally on the hilt of the lance, severed from its original position, and loose from the weapon. This the chief was anxious to have so painted by Mr. Catlin; and especially a spot of blood visible upon it. "That quill," said Mahto-toh-pa, is a great medicine! it belongs to the Great Spirit, and not to me-when I was running out of the lodge of Won-ga-tap, I looked back, and saw that quill hanging to the wound in his side; I ran back, and pulling it out, brought it home in my left hand, and I have kept it for the Great Spirit to this day!" " Why do you not let me

tie it on the lance again, whence it came off?" asked Mr. Catlin. "Hush," replied the chief, “if the Great Spirit had wished it to be tied on in that place, it never would have come off; he has been kind to me, and I will not offend him."

The end of this" noble gentleman" must be briefly told. When the Asiatic cholera swept over the greater part of the western country, and the Indian frontier, it destroyed the whole tribe of Mandans. Mah-to-toh-pa sat in his wigwam and watched every one of his family die about him-his wives and his little children, after he had recovered from the disease himself; then he walked out, around the village, and wept over the final destruction of his tribe; his braves and warriors, whose sinewy arms alone he could depend on for a continuance of their existence, all laid low; then he came back to his lodge, where he covered his whole family in a pile, with a number of robes, and wrapping another around himself, went out upon a hill at a little distance, where he lay several days, despite all the solicitations of the Traders, resolved to starve himself to death. He remained there till the sixth day, when he had just strength enough to creep back to the village, where he entered his own gloomy wigwam, and laying himself alongside the group of his family, drew his robe over him, and died on the ninth day of his fatal abstinence!

PET ANIMALS.

ONE often sees persons of rough natures and unfeeling hearts bestow extraordinary attention upon favourite animals. The French Revolutionists presented some extraordinary instances of this anomalous affection. Citizen Couthon, a Hercules in crime, fondled and invariably carried in his bosom, even to the Convention, a little spaniel, as a vent for the exuberant sensibilities which overflowed his affectionate heart. "This tenderness for some pet animal was, by no means, peculiar to Couthon; it seems rather a common fashion with the gentle butchers of the Revolution. M. George Duval informs us, (Souvenirs de la Terreur, vol. iii. p. 183,) that Chaumette had an aviary, to which he devoted his harmless leisure; the murderous Fournier carried on his shoulders, a pretty little spaniel, attached by a silver chain; Panis bestowed the simplicity of his affections upon two gold pheasants; and Marat, who would not abate one of the 300,000 heads he demanded, reared doves! Apropos of the spaniel of Couthon, Duval gives us an amusing anecdote of Serjent, not one of the least relentless agents of the massacre of September. A lady came to implore his protection for one of her relations confined in the Abbey. He scarcely deigned to speak to her. As she retired in despair, she trod by accident upon the paw of his favourite spaniel. Serjent, turning round, enraged and furious, exclaimed 66 Madam, have you no humanity!"-Zanoni.

ASSASSINATION OF GUSTAVUS III.
MARCH 16, 1792.

It is now just half a century since this tragic event was perpetrated at Stockholm, under circumstances of as extraordinary a character as any in the history of Europe, during the above period. It will, doubtless, be remembered by every one familiar with the details of the monarch's last moments, that he strictly forbade, for fifty years, the opening of the chest at Upsal, in which his papers were deposited: this injunction has been strictly observed, and the chest will now forthwith be opened, when it is expected there will be disclosed some curious facts connected with the fate of this versatile monarch.

Meanwhile, as it is at all times both interesting and instructive to observe the deportment, in critical emergencies, of those who have played important parts in the transactions of the world, we subjoin the circumstances which led to the assassination, and the striking scene on the night the king was wounded; as they are related by Mr. Brown, in his Northern Courts.

Gustavus the Third was a memorable example of a king uniting himself with the democratic party, in order to oppose the encroachments of a powerful aristocracy, who, apprehending the loss of all their privileges by the increase of the royal prerogative, resolved upon the sovereign's death. Such, at least, is one statement of the circumstances which led to this event. In another view of the politics of the period, the catastrophe is shown to have been brought about by the pernicious effects of the French revolution. In the opening of that portentous event, the sentiments of the people of Sweden are represented to have been much at variance with those of their sovereign. "It was in vain," says Mr. Brown, "that, knowing his subjects to be a religious race, the king denounced the French to them as a nation of atheists;" the infection had spread too far, the cause of freedom had become too popular, and there cannot be a more damning proof of the dangerous nature of the doctrines which were afloat, than the statement which Mr. Brown subjoins as "the opinion of several officers of long standing and great experience in the Swedish service," that, "if the king had not been cut off by Ankarstrom, the very army he was assembling, with the view of invading France, in Normandy, and marching direct on Paris, would have hoisted the standard of revolt, and destroyed the monarch whom they once adored." The Swedish army, however, was saved, by the desperate resentment of Ankarstrom, from the eternal disgrace which would have fallen upon them, had this black act of treachery been consummated. A conspiracy was formed under the directions of Counts Horn and Ribbing, and Colonel Lilienhorn; and a nobleman, Ankarstrom, whom Gustavus had personally offended, undertook to murder him. Ankarstrom chose a masked ball, which was given at the opera-house, at Stockholm, on March 16, 1792, as the fittest opportunity for carrying his design into effect. The king was warned by some anonymous friend, but he went to the ball, and was pointed out to the assassin by Count Horn, who tapped him on the shoulder, and said, "Good evening, pretty mask." Upon this, Ankarstrom shot the king through the body from behind, and mingled with the crowd of masks; and the very interesting details of the scene which ensued are thus given by Mr. Brown, from a Swedish manuscript, which he considers authentic:—

The king's surgeons having examined the wound, and the direction in which the pistol had been fired, saw at once how small was the chance of their royal patient's recovery. During this operation, which was excruciatingly painful, the king displayed that intense fortitude which few mortals ever possessed in a higher degree. As the surgeon applied his probe, the king thought his hand shook; suppressing the sense of pain, he said, with a firm voice," Do not suffer your sorrow to affect your hand! Remember, sir, it is not possible I can survive if the balls are not extracted." The surgeon paused a moment, as if to collect all his courage, and extracted a ball and some slugs. On his way from his palace to the opera house, a few hours before, Gustavus stepped lightly down the

broad flights of granite stairs to the vestibule below. He

was now carried slowly back, stretched on a litter borne on the shoulders of grenadiers, whose slightest motion gave him inexpressible pain. Like the palace itself, the grand staircase is of stupendous dimensions. The massive balustrades are composed of polished marble; the broad steps of hewn granite, and the ornaments of colossal proportions, finely