Rhode Island American And Gazette

The Legends of New England, by Mr. J. G. Whittier, has recently been published in Hartford. The volume contains eighteen articles in prose and verse. We find in the N. Y. Mercantile the following extract from the 'Rattlesnake Hunter,' which is powerfully written. We feel provoked with the hunter however, that he had not sucked the wound to save the life of his devoted wife, or imbibed the subtle poison and perished with her:

'In one of my hunting excursions abroad, on a fine morning—it was just at this time of the year—I was accompanied by my wife. 'Twas a beautiful morning. The sunshine was warm but the atmosphere was perfectly clear; and a fine breeze from the northwest shook the bright green leaves which clothed in profusion the wreathing branches above us. I had left my companion for a short time, in pursuit of game; and in climbing a rugged ledge of rocks, interspersed with shrubs and dwarfish trees, I was startled by a quick, grating rattle. I looked forward. On the edge of a loosened rock lay a large Rattlesnake, coiling himself, as if for the deadly spring. He was within a few feet of me; and I paused for an instant to survey him. I know not why, but I stood still, and looked at the deadly serpent with a strange feeling of curiosity. Suddenly he unwound his coil, as if relenting from his purpose of hostility, and raising his head, he fixed his bright, fiery eye directly upon my own.

A chilling and indescribable sensation totally different from anything I had ever before experienced, followed this movement of the serpent; but I stood still, and gazed steadily and earnestly, or at that moment there was a visible change in the reptile. His form seemed to grow larger, and his colors brighter. His body moved with a slow almost imperceptible motion towards me, and a low hum of music came from him—or, at least, it sounded in my ear—a strange, sweet melody, faint as that which melts from the throat of the Humming-bird. Then the tints of his body deepened, changed and glowed, like the changes of a beautiful kaleidoscope—green, purple, gold, until I lost sight of the serpent entirely, and saw only wild and curiously woven circles of strange colors, quivering around me, like an atmosphere of rainbows. I seemed in the centre of a great prism—a world of mysterious colors—and the tints varied and darkened and lighted up again around me—and the low music went on without ceasing, until my brain reeled; and fear, for the first time, came like a shadow over me. The new sensation gained upon me rapidly, and I could feel the cold sweat gushing from my brow. I had no certainty of danger in my mind—no definite idea of peril—all was vague and clouded, like the unaccountable terrors of a dream—and yet my limbs shook, and I fancied I could feel the blood stiffening with cold as it passed along my veins. I would have given worlds to have been able to tear myself from the spot—I even attempted to do so, but the body obeyed not the impulse of the mind—not a muscle stirred; and I stood still, as if my feet had grown to the solid rock, with the infernal music of the tempter in my ear, and the baleful colorings of his enchantment before me.

Suddenly a new sound came on my ear—it was a human voice—but it seemed strange and awful. Again—again—but I stirred not; and then a white form plunged before me, and grasped my arm.

The horrible spell was at once broken. The strange colors passed from before my vision. The Rattlesnake was coiling at my very feet with glowing eyes and uplifted fangs, and my wife clinging in terror upon me. The next instant the serpent threw himself upon us. My wife was the victim!—The fatal fangs pierced deeply into her hand; and her scream of agony, as she staggered backward from me, told me the dreadful truth.

Then it was that a feeling of madness came upon me; and when I saw the foul serpent stealing away from his work of death, reckless of danger, I sprang forward and crushed him under my foot, grinding him in pieces upon the ragged rock. The groans of my wife now recalled me to her side, and to the horrible reality of her situation. There was a dark, livid spot on her hand; and it deepened into blackness as I led her away. We were at a considerable distance from any dwelling; and after wandering for a short time, the pain of her wound became insupportable to my wife, and she swooned away in my arms. Weak and exhausted as I was, I had yet strength enough remaining to carry her to the nearest rivulet, and bathe her brow in the cool water. She partially recovered, and sat down upon the bank, while I supported her head upon my bosom.

Hour after hour passed away, and none came near us,—and there—alone, in the great wilderness, I watched over her, and prayed with her—and she died.'