down my gun in despair, for it looked as though his way at last was clear to the wide lake; but the third net stopped him, and his teeth and legs had got entangled in all. This gave us a chance of closer warfare with lances, such as are used against the wild buffalo. We had sent for this weapon at the commencement of the attack, and found it much more effectual than guns. Entering the canoe, we plunged lance after lance into the alligator, as he was struggling under the water, till a wood seemed growing from him, which moved violently above while his body was concealed below. His endeavors to extricate himself lashed the waters into foam mingled with blood, and there seemed no end to his vitality or decrease to his resistance till a lance struck him directly through the middle of the back, which an Indian, with a heavy piece of wood, hammered into him as he could catch an opportunity. My companion on the other side now tried to haul him to the shore, by the nets to which he had fastened himself, but had not sufficient assistance with him. As I had more force with me, we managed, by the aid of the women and children, to drag his head and part of his body on to the little beach, and giving him the _coup de grace_, left him to gasp out the remnant of his life. This monster was nearly thirty feet in length and thirteen feet in circumference, and the head alone weighed three hundred pounds. On opening him there were found, with other parts of the horse, three legs entire, torn off at the haunch and shoulder, besides a large quantity of stones, some of them of several pounds' weight. THE MOOR'S REVENGE.[4] A PARAPHRASE FROM THE POLISH OF MICKIEWICZ BY EPES SARGENT. Before Grenada's fated walls, Encamped in proud array, And flushed with many a victory, The Spanish army lay. Of all Grenada's fortresses But one defies their might: On Alphuara's minarets The crescent still is bright. Almanzor! King Almanzor! All vainly you resist: Your little band is fading fast Away like morning mist. A direr foe than ever yet They met on battle-plain Assaults life's inmost citadel, And heaps the ground with slain. One onset more of Spanish ranks-- (And soon it will be made!) And Alphuara's towers must reel, And in the dust be laid. "And shall the haughty infidel Pollute this sacred land?" Almanzor said, as mournfully He marked his dwindling band. "Upon our glorious crescent Shall the Spaniard set his heel? And is there not one lingering hope? Can Heaven no aid reveal? Ay, by our holy Prophet, _One_ ally still remains! And I will bind him close to me,-- For better death than chains!"