men's hopes. He was one of the vulgar rich; men who knew the power of money, as connected with the wants and necessities of others. It was his idol, or rather shared his affections with himself, though he did not know even the luxury of making himself happy. He had, as that kind of rich men always have, cringing flatterers investing their money at so much per cent.; but he did not or would not see, that in the thinnest possible distance beneath, lay the most unmitigated contempt. He had courage and energy, and could be aroused to actions of vigor when his pride or interest was concerned.

And to such a wooer was the fortune of pretty Ellen bound, if he could see and of herself ask her alliance. His character was too well known by her, to allow of the thought being for a moment entertained of a life passed with such a man. The golden chain often enters the soul' as well as the iron. It was true that if the interview did take place, Mr. Lewis Grey would have been, wealth or no wealth, most summarily rejected, probably to his own intense astonishment; but it was the policy of Ellen and the Colonel, and a just and laudable one it was, if possible to keep the fortune and avoid the condition; and if they could only succeed in keeping out of the way until March, they were safe.

Colonel Grey had been ordered to Montreal, which he gladly obeyed; and arriving there, easily obtained leave of travel in the States for a few months. The climate of Canada was too severe for a winter's residence there by Ellen; and the Colonel had taken passage from Kingston in the Chatham,' and arrived at Oswego, where he quietly devised the best plan for the object he had in view. Hearing of the banks of the Cayuga as being then in a process of settlement, and as combining seclusion with a pleasant climate, and one of the last places where he would probably be sought for, he made the journey which we have already described. Communicating only to his friend, the captain of the Chatham,' his residence, Colonel Grey prepared calmly to keep a vigilant guard against any surprise during the winter, and to make his house as agreeable as possible. The two sailors had been sent back to Oswego with an earnest request to Captain Clemens to acquaint him of any movement of the much-dreaded Lewis Grey.

Nor was this caution unnecessary. Lewis Grey was not the man to lose a prize so brilliant as that of the bequest of Grandlet, and he was quite enough of a young man to like it the more, with the pretty appendage that was its contingency. The time for action he knew, as well as the other parties, was brief, and he adopted the most vigilant movement immediately. On the day that the Colonel arrived at Aurora, he sailed from England, taking his passage, most fortunately for the perplexed Ellen, in the Cumberland,' a ship described in the advertisement as that remarkably fast sailing vessel,' but the performance of which was directly opposite; it being to Grey's impatience a doubtful question, on some days, whether it was stern-way or head-way that she was making. He was exceedingly provoked at having made such an unlucky choice, but on the ocean submission to fate is a philosophy soon learned.

The winter days passed on merrily. In the daughter of their host,

Sam Mitchell, the pretty Ellen found a delightful companion, and new lessons were learned from each other of their different experiences. There is so much to be fused into mutual observation by the relations of varying incidents which characterise a life passed at home, and one diversified by the truant from one nation to another, and in employment, pleasant and interesting, of a kindred scholarship, Ellen and Sam found the winter neither lifeless or dull. Nor is it ever dull when, as here, a broad expanse of bright and clear water was in perpetual movement, changing its pictures like the successions of a festive gathering, and when there was mind to enjoy those companions who accompany one as kindly to the solitary dwelling as to the crowded hall—I mean books. They who love them have a talisman to charm away dullness always.

John Gossine was the busiest man imaginable. He had very nearly traversed the entire locality, and wherever there was a glen, or mine, or water-fall, notwithstanding the temperature, he had explored and examined, and reported his observations, the object portrayed losing nothing in size or importance by his narration. The Indians who still remained on the Reservation had especially attracted his notice. The Reservation is even to this day the term frequently applied to that part of the village which is situated just north of the pretty Grecian summer-house, to which we have before alluded.

There are yet the old orchard trees, some of which probably survived the destruction inflicted by the detachment of Sullivan's army, which was sent up the lake, and passed through this way a work of terror, which the Indian never forgot. The banks are higher, and there are fewer trees near the lake, but the Reservation has many positions of great beauty for architectural improvement.

It was excessively to the annoyance of Gossine that the Indians, and especially one old brave would completely distance him with their canoes, while he was sculling the yawl. It did not seem in accordance with his notions of water craft, that such affairs as these bark canoes should so easily leave his boat in the distance. With the consent of the Colonel, he hauled his yawl ashore, and commenced a vigorous repair and refixture. Boat-building was a novelty on the Cayuga in those days. We have changed all that since then, and can produce models now that we will place in competition with any others; but then the Chatham's' yawl was the finest craft that had yet floated there, and as the industrious and ingenious Gossine proceeded to give her a centre-board, and to deck her over, and otherwise prepare her for sailing, Mr. Mitchell evidently expressed the opinion of the settlers, when he prophesied her invincibility.

The old Indian, John Key, watched the proceedings keenly, but with the usual custom or wisdom of his people, said not a word. It was not many days before the yawl was equipped, a regular decked sailboat. Gossine then worked at her sails and rigging, and by the assistance of the ladies, the yawl was soon in complete order, spreading a complement of sail about as much as she could carry. It was rather cold weather for pleasure sailing, but John had seen service in the Baltic, and there was soon added to the attraction of the lake the spec

tacle of the yawl darting about in all kind of nautical evolutions, chased by or chasing some of the canoes belonging to the Reservation, the most of which, in a decent wind, it left far in the distance. John soon organised a crew among the young men, who entered eagerly into the sport, especially as it gave, or seemed to give them, a superiority in one manly exercise to their active and quick-motioned Indian neighbors. Old Key kept his canoe, the largest and best constructed, carefully drawn up on the beach, and when challenged to a contest, made no other reply than Time enough; John catch him yet.'

Colonel Grey found at the breakfast-table of Mr. Mitchell, on one of the mornings of January, a new guest, who was introduced to him as Mr. Ryckman, and who, he ascertained, was an Indian trader, passing in one of his usual tours from Albany by the way of Oswego, as far as Fort Niagara, and thence through the Delaware country homeward. There was nothing about the guest to awaken notice, except that Colonel Grey would rather not have been met by any one, at that time, whose travels were in the direction of the cities. He asked no questions, and was communicative only of a few general facts, and passed on. Those who were familiar with Albany some years since will recollect Wilhelmus Ryckman. He attained to old age, as indeed did every member of his remarkable family. I saw him often. He never associated or conversed with any one that I saw, but moved along, apparently a man alive in the world and belonging to the past. He was grave and quiet, and seemed to have imbibed the taciturnity of the people with whom he had so long been a trader. His associations of thought and habit were with the days of the frontier trading post, and the modern city seemed to him a place of strangers.

The longest voyage ever known, except that of old Vanderdecken, the Flying Dutchman, had its end, and at last the Cumberland,' after having been beaten and be-stormed, after drifting out of her course, and going very slow in it, arrived at New-York. Lewis Grey was indignant at her long passage, and could not understand why such a thing should happen to a rich man. The information that Colonel Grey had been at Oswego was soon ascertained, and Lewis moved thitherward as promptly as his health, enfeebled by sea-sickness, (enjoyed to its fullest extent on board of the Cumberland,') would allow. At Oswego his efforts to find the present residence of the Colonel were very strenuous, for his pride and avarice were both roused into action. He ascertained that the Colonel had taken the yawl of the 'Chatham,' and had gone 'somewhere,' that usual temporary hiding place of all conjecture. But he made no progress until the Chatham' herself arrived. Captain Clemens was very much perplexed to baffle the eager questions of Lewis. To all of them, however, he made the most general answers that he could devise, resorting in all cases to an episode on the description and merits of the yawl he had parted from as being the best piece of boat fabric afloat, until Grey wished the Chatham's' yawl in the Maël

strom.

The two sailors who had accompanied the Colonel to the Cayuga were exceedingly anxious to defeat the purposes of Lewis, and in an endeavor to get some information from them he found himself en

tangled in a labyrinthical description of routes and courses all around the compass; with a more serious annoyance in a lameness occasioned by a long walk into which he was led by Sebring, one of the sailors, who undertook to show him personally the direction in which the yawl had gone. 'Shall I never hear the last of that abominable yawl!' said Lewis, as he found himself at the parlor of the only tavern Oswego then could produce, and found to his vexation that he had probably doomed himself by his imprudence to a week's confinement to his room.

A gentleman for you, Mr. Grey,' said the servant, as he ushered into the room a visitor, who had desired to see him; and in walked, calmly and deliberately, the Indian trader Ryckman. A conversation followed between them, in the result of which it was evident Grey was exceedingly interested. When the interview closed, Grey sent for a physician, whose announcement that he was forbidden to travel for at least a week was received with a storm of indignation, at which the professional man was at first inclined to demur, but on reflecting that his patient was a rich Englishman, he concluded to make a compromise, and remember the high words in the bill; and it is due to the memory of the faculty at that period, in Oswego, to say that this idea was faithfully carried into execution, the suffering Lewis in vain remonstrating.

With the plague-spot upon thy visage hollow,
Floridian shores were trod by thee in vain ;
When northward Spring sent forth her herald swallow,
Panted thy heart to visit home again:

Once more to native scenes and pleasant places,
Back camest thou o'er Ocean's flashing foam;

Once more thy glance, on old familiar faces,
Rested while sitting by the hearth of home.

III.

Once more thy loving and devoted mother
Thy couch beside outwatched the stars of night;
Once more thy sire a groan would try to smother,
For skill was vain to stay the work of blight:
Brief was thy stay. Autumnal winds are flinging
Pale, withered leaves upon thy funeral mould;
While overhead are feathered armies winging
Their way to lands unvexed by frost or cold.

IV.

And friendly hearts belief are entertaining
That thy soul journeyed to a brighter clime;
Fount of unclouded light that knows no waning,
Far, far beyond this crumbling strand of time:
How otherwise believe, for aspirations,

That in true hearts have birth alone, were thine?
A will to dare those troubles and vexations

That drug with gall, too oft, life's sparkling wine.

Rest from the strife, brave spirit! who would wake thee,
To waste and burn with fever-fires again;
While friends are tortured at the sight, to make thee
Feel for another hour Promethean pain:
Not all of thee is lost while comrades cherish
Fond recollections of thy worth, my friend :
Though gone, the bright example cannot perish
Of courage that upheld thee to the end.

HORACE.

W. H. O B.