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 them? Other sections of country, under less favorable circumstances, are not wanting in this respect.

Why is it? Timber of every kind adapted to the zone and climate will gross as thriftily when planted here, as elsewhere. The frontier forests of our Western States have been observed for years past to make slow but constant encroachment upon contiguous prairies, from all sides, where, as yet, they have a foothold;— and why? Partly, because their enlargement is not circumvented by

those annual burnings that formerly devoured every tender shoot daring to raise its head above ground; and, partly, through the operation of other causes, sure and gradual in their effect, which have planted the groves of other lands and taught their branches to wave in the breeze. Doubtless the same causes would produce the same results, all over these vast regions, as elsewhere.

But, why have they not?—why are the prairies timberless? Simply, because a sufficiency of time has not yet elapsed for the operation of these causes, —timber has hitherto had no possible chance for generation. The phenomenon, if rightly viewed, will thus explain itself. Geology points to the time when these vast solitudes were the bed of old Ocean and the home of waves, —but, gradually emerging or suddenly elevated from the watery abyss, they now present some of the more recent formations of dry land.

Herbage and grass, being more easily propagated than trees, —sown as are their seeds by the birds and scattered by the winds of heaven, —in a brief interval, beswathed the new-born earth with smiling green. Thus clothed with verdancy, they soon became the favorite pastures of the countless herds that thronged them. With game, appeared the red man to hunt it, and with him the yearly conflagrations that now repel the intruding woodlands and confirm the unbroken sway of solitude amid her far extending domains.

Here, then, we have spread before us the prairies as we find them, —the problem of their existence needs no further solution.

Oct. 12th. Still continuing up the Platte by its south bank, we made camp at night near the head of Grand Island. During our progress we saw large quantities of wild geese and cranes in the river bottoms, that presented tempting marks for our voyageurs. One of the latter, —a tall raw-boned, half-crazed, and self-confident Missouri "Ned,"—good natured and inane, —sporting, the familiar soubriquet of "Big Jim,"-wishing to prove the truth of the Dogberry axiom, that "some things may be done as well others," started to approach a large flock of sand-hill cranes, parading half obscured in a plat of grass near the road side.

The wary birds, however, caught glimpse of the approaching Nimrod and flew. Still our hero advanced, crawling upon all-fours, to within sixty or seventy yards of their recent position, when, raising up, he espyed an object which his excited imagination portrayed a crane, and promptly yielded to it the contents of his rifle.

Of course the obstinate creature remained in status quo.

Re-loading with all possible speed, he again fired! But the second shot proved futile as the first.

Determined the next should count whether or no, he advanced still nearer, and had raised for his third discharge, before the naked truth burst