ds will
always stand wherever he pleases to leave them, but they have
rather a venerable and woful aspect, that renders them anything
but pleasant objects to the casual observer. A few years ago
there came a caravan to town, and several horses were badly
frightened by the elephants, so that quite a number of accidents
took place. A day or two after, old Dr. Knight met Dr. H., and
speaking of the accidents, Dr. Knight remarked that he had not
dared to take his horse out while the procession was passing
through the streets. 'Oh, ho!' said Dr. H., 'why, I took my mare
and drove right up alongside of them, and she wasn't the least
bit scared!'

'Hum--yes,' says Dr. K., '_but how did the elephant stand it_?'

* * * * *

By particular request we find room for the following:--

Hon. ---- then read his Poem entitled the 'Boulder,' which must
be heard before we can form an idea of the genius of the poet.
First we are reminded of the style of the sweet songs of
Pherimorz as his enchanting strains fell upon the enraptured
soul of the fair Lady of the Lake. Then away, on painted wings
of gratified imagination, is the mind carried to the zephyr
wooings of the dying sunset, over the elevated brow of the dark
Maid of the Forest, as she reclines upon her couch of eagles'
feathers, and down from angles wings, hearing the last whisper
of the falling echo from the world of sound.

Whether the wild chaos of storm and whirlwind which madly raged
over the benighted earth before 'light was,' rushed to the dark
caverns where the fettered earthquake lay, when order was
demanded by the Father of Lights, we can not tell; but surely it
is a pleasing thought for the mind engulfed in the unfathomed
darkness of uncreated light, to be brought out and suffered to
rest on the peaceful bosom of the new creation. Whether 'the
world that then was' was overflown and perished by the causes
set forth, we can not tell. We regret that we can not now give a
more extended and particular notice of this poem; let us hope
that ere long we may enjoy the delight of reading its printed
form.

That must indeed have been a poem which could inspire _such_ poetry in
others.

* * * * *

The Boston _Courier_ published, over the signature of 'MIDDLESEX,'
during the mont