During a stay of three months in Boston,
I occasionally visited at Mr. Reynolds' house,
and frequently witnessed scenes similar to
those with which I have already made the
reader acquainted. My visits were shorter
and less frequent than they would have been
in a happier family; for the sorrows of a
young and evidently much-abused wife, were
dangerous to sympathize with, and impossible
to alleviate.

At the end of the time I have mentioned,
business demanded my presence at the leadmines
in Missouri. I called to bid farewell
to my friends in Franklin street, promising to
see them the moment I returned. Mr. Reynolds
was more kind to my favourite than I
had ever before seen him; and Mrs. Reynolds
seemed happy in the hope that her
artless witchery would eventually overcome
the sternness of his nature. Angelina, accustomed
to my absence for weeks, regarded my
departure as a common occurrence, and
abated nothing of her charming vivacity.
Never shall I forget how she looked as she
stood watching at the window to see my

[figure description] Page 218.[end figure description]

carriage turn from the door. The sunlight was
reflected from a crimson curtain on her
sweet face, so full of affection that its image
was a talisman of comfort for many a long
year after.

It required no effort to keep the promise I
had made. I had scarcely been in Boston
one hour after my return, when I found myself
opposite Mr. Reynolds' house, watching
the windows with throbbing eagerness. The
smiling figure I expected to see was not
there. I rang the bell impatiently, asked
the servant in a hurried tone, “Is Mrs. Reynolds
at home,” and pressed forward with an
impetuosity which my sense of decorum
could not restrain. “Sir,” replied the servant,
“she has been dead this fortnight.”
“Dead!” I exclaimed. “Yes sir, she is
dead.” “And where is Angelina? How is
the little West-Indian girl?” “She died two
days after. They were both attacked with
a malignant fever, and died in the country.”
The blow fell upon me with such stunning,
stupifying force, thought and feeling seemed
suspended. Reeling and dizzy with misery

[figure description] Page 219.[end figure description]

I could not realize, I inquired for Mr. Reynolds.
“He is at the compting-room,” replied
the domestic; “but walk into the
parlour, sir, you are very pale.” He opened
the door, and, hardly knowing what I did, I
entered. There hung the crimson curtain,
just as it had hung when I saw the little face
I loved so well, peeping from behind its folds.
Then, indeed, memory came upon my heart
in a rush of agony. The numbness was
taken from my soul, and I felt the full extent
of my affliction. I will not describe the remainder
of that day. Those who have ever
loved strongly, and lost the object of their affections,
will imagine, more vividly than
words can portray, that terrible void in the
human soul, when the earth is a wilderness,
and the heavens shrouded in blackness. It
was not until several days after, that I could
see Mr. Reynolds, talk of their death, and
visit their graves. I lingered long on the
spot where they told me the suffering wife
and the joyful little innocent slept side by
side. “It is ever thus,” thought I, “the
brightest and fairest buds are soonest

[figure description] Page 220.[end figure description]

removed to the paradise of God. Happy, happy
are those who never know the autumn-leaf
of feeling, the chill drear atmosphere of a
desolated heart.”

* * * * * * * *

When I lost the object of my early attachment,
a few days before the solemn marriage-vow
was to connect us forever, for weal or
woe, I had found change of scene one of the
best restoratives for my wounded and restless
spirit; and now that my clinging affections
were a second time driven from their strong
hold, I resorted to the same means of cure.
I visited France and England, and made myself
familiar with most of the scenes consecrated
by history or tradition. I remained
abroad nearly nine years, during which time
I saw announced in the public papers the
death of Mr. Gindrat, the father of my lamented
little friend; and heard several particulars
of Mrs. Reynolds' history. The
Spanish youth, as she called him, was, as I
suspected, her first lover; and he had gained
her heart at that enthusiastic period when it
clings to a dear object with a strength which

[figure description] Page 221.[end figure description]

bids defiance to the subtle power of interest,
or the tempting signal of ambition. When
his education was finished, he married a
West-Indian heiress. His English playmate
heard of his union, and from that time cared
little whether her path of life were in sunshine
or shadow. She never, even in her
inmost thought, reproached Mr. Gindrat.
The world excused him from blame because
he had made no open declaration, and had,
of course, broken no vows; but is a cold,
spiritless morality which dictates a creed like
this. He who makes his eyes telegraphs of
a love he does not utter, and, by a thousand
unnecessary attentions, wreaths himself more
closely around a heart that cherishes his looks
and records his minutest actions, is answerable
for the blight and mildew of that heart.
Some said this was the view Mr. Gindrat
himself took of the subject; and that the
tacit compact he had broken, cast a shade of
melancholy over his future life. Angelina
Lee, for such was Mrs. Reynolds' name,
gave no indications of misery which a common
observer would have noticed; but she

[figure description] Page 222.[end figure description]

lost her interest in what was around her, and
seemed to act the cheerfulness she no longer
felt. Her father was anxious to see her married,
for a reason more powerful than the
world suspected; the irretrievable embarassment
of his fortune. Mr. Reynolds, a stern,
vindictive, unprincipled, but gallant man,
had long been struck with her beauty, and
had an eye upon her expected fortune. He
offered his hand—her father urged his claims—
and partly from a listlessness of spirit
which shrunk from contention with her father's
will—and partly from that love of
homage which exists more or less in every
heart, she consented to become his wife.
Had his love for her been genuine, all would
have been well; for kindness will cure most
mental diseases; but he was vexed at her
father's loss of property, and put no check
upon his harsh, tyrannical nature. The idea
that disappointed affection occasioned his
wife's ill health, and the unjust suspicion that
she knew of her former lover's residence in
Cuba, before she expressed a wish to go
there, increased this evil to the utmost; and

[figure description] Page 223.[end figure description]

a more cruel and dreadful suspicion with regard
to the nature of her affection for Angelina,
infuriated his hatred toward the child,
although his grasping avarice would not allow
him to relinquish the care of one so opulent.
I have already told how happily they both
escaped from his tyranny; and as nothing
connected with the young West-Indian transpired
until after my return to America, I
must beg the reader to pass over this long
period, and allow his imagination to accompany
me on one of the first excursions I
made in my native land, in the autumn of
the year 1817.

Several of my friends having heard that
there was plenty of game at Weston and
Sudbury, proposed to collect a shooting
party to ascertain the truth of the report. A
mere love of rambling induced me to join
them; for Cowper had so early inspired me
with a reluctance to take away life, that all
the boasted excellencies of Joe Mantons and
percussion caps could never tempt me to be
a sportsman. I had heard that something in
commemoration of one of King Philip's

[figure description] Page 224.[end figure description]

numerous battles was to be found in this neighbourhood;
and the love of seeking out all
that our infant country dignifies with the
name of antiquities, soon led me to desert a
scene where I could neither gratify taste nor
display skill. My companions humoured my
wayward propensities by pointing out the
direction of the place, and promising to be
altogether independent of me in their homeward
arrangements, should my long stay render
it necessary. The route they indicated
led over fence and wall, brake and brier. I
wandered on until I grew weary of hobbling
over potato fields, like a boy stumbling
through the first pages of Virgil, and climbing
slope after slope, like a man condemned
to the tread-mill. Seeing a lad in the high
road, dragging lazily along after a couple of
sleepy oxen, I hastened to overtake him, and
inquire where Wadsworth's monument was
to be found. “Whir-ho,” shouted the yeoman,
in sharp and angular tones, at the same
time laying his whip parallel with the eyes
of his oxen. “What might you say, sir?”
“I asked you to tell me where the

[figure description] Page 225.[end figure description]

monument is.” “I don't remember hearing of
any monerment in these parts,” replied the
lad, tipping his hat on one side in a very
knowing way, and passing his brawny fingers
through his stiff red hair, till his skull bore
no small resemblance to an enchanted haystack,
“but I've read in the prints that
they 're going to put up a monerment at
Washington that 'll cost uncle Sam a power
o' dollars.” “What I was speaking of,”
answered I, “is a memorial of Wadsworth
and Bruklebank, massacred in King Philip's
wars.” “According to my idees,” replied
my informer, “a memorial is another guess
sort o' thing from a monerment. Dad sent
a memorial to uncle Sam, about losing one
of his toes in the old war; but it 'ill be long
enough afore dad has a monerment, I guess.”
“Can you or can you not tell me where the
place is?” repeated I, half vexed and half
amused with the ignoramus. “That depends
a bit upon what place you mean. I
guess as how you 're from Boston. Some
how or other, they hear of all sorts of things
down there.” Seeing I was not likely to gain

[figure description] Page 226.[end figure description]

any information, and shrewdly suspectin
the follow had that mischievous love of hoaxing
his city brethen, so common in the interior,
I passed briskly on, but was soon stopped
by a shrill “halloo, mister! if so be
there is such a place round here, our schoolmaster
can tell you all about it. He's a
curous man for larning. If you was to ax
him, `can't you tell me where sich a place
is?' and he was to say, `no,' he'd mean yes.”
“How so?” asked I, “that's no proof of his
wisdom.” “But it is though; for you see
there's a negative in your question, and if
there was a negative in his answer, it would
be double you see—and the grammar'd stand
him out in saying, that 'are was an affirmative.”
Smiling at this parade of scholastic
lore, I inquired where the redoubtable pedagogue
resided. “Why he boards round, sir,
because the town can't afford to pay his
board; but he's a curous larnt man—he
could tell you the latitude of your tongue,
and the longitude of your head, if you axed
him.” “Your tongue has pretty great latitude,
I think, sir,” replied I. “Not up to

[figure description] Page 227.[end figure description]

the longitude o' my head, I count,” said the
buffoon, tipping a wink with that odd mixture
of impudence, vulgarity and archness, peculiar
to those who style themselves “crank
country lads.”

What more his wit or his wisdom might
have chosen to amuse me with, I know not—
for he stopped his conversation, and pointing
to a dilapidated farm-house, exclaimed,
“there's uncle Joe's house. I guess the
master lives there. If he an't at home, maybe
uncle Joe can tell you about the monerment.”
Then whistling to his oxen to
quicken their pace, he, without further ceremony,
left me to my adventures. I found
all attempts to make myself heard at the front
door of the mansion entirely useless; and I
continued walking round and round the domains,
until half a dozen brick-red milk-pans,
a strainer spread over a wooden pail, and a
checked apron drying on a plough-handle,
gave indications of an inhabitated country.
In answer to my knock, I heard a sharp,
shrill voice call out, “Go to the door, Joe.”
But a laconic “walk!” uttered in tones as

[figure description] Page 228.[end figure description]

deep and gruff as the bass notes of a frog's
organ, was the only notice taken of the sharp
command. Doubtful as the word was in its
import, and ungracious in its utterance, I
thought best to understand it in its most
hospitable sense. Accordingly raising the
wooden latch by a leathern string, somewhat
slippery from many a greasy touch, I ventured
to explore the interior of the building.

It certainly had not the recommendation
which plain exteriors frequently have. A
pumpkin-shell full of cobbs, surmounted by
a pair of broken bellows; one andiron beheaded,
and the other sinking down beneath
the weight of years; towels which an antiquary
might have sworn were stripped from
Egyptian mummies, and a floor that could
never again be frightened into paleness by
mop, or broom—all proclaimed that neatness
and comfort were strangers there.

When I made known my errand, the old
man laid his pipe in the ash-hole, and thrusting
his hands into his ragged pockets, to
which his idle fingers owed a heavy rent, he
said—“The school-master an't to home;

[figure description] Page 229.[end figure description]

but I guess I can go with you—if you'll wait
till I've split some wood, and hung on the
tea-kettle for my old woman.” The matron,
who had wiped her spectacles on a tattered
silk handkerchief, and stared at me to her
heart's content, here answered in her sharpest
tones, “no you won't I can tell you, Joe.
You an't a fit man to be out o' the sight o'
your chimly, as long as grog's made o' potatoes.
When that lazy witch of a Peg comes
home from the meadow, she can show the
stranger gentleman the way; for she and
Master Dudley know all the out-o'-the-way
places hereabouts. Wherever she's lagging,
I'll be bound he's with her. Well I
hope good'll come on't. That's all I've got
to say.” While she was speaking, I noticed
from the window a young man, bearing a
well-filled bag on his shoulder, coming toward
the house in earnest conversation with a barefooted,
ill-dressed girl. “There's our Peg,”
exclaimed the old virago, taking off her
spectacles in a desperate hurry:—“It's jest
as I knowed 'twould be.” A moment after,
the object of her irritation entered, and chained
my attention as if by a magic spell.

[figure description] Page 230.[end figure description]

Her ragged straw bonnet had fallen back
from her forehead, and through one of its
loop-holes a sun-beam darted on the most
brilliant eyes I had ever beheld, and gave
additional richness to dark cheeks, highly
flushed by air and exercise. Her movements
had nothing of rustic angularity; on the contrary,
there was a gliding gracefulness of
manner which her coarse and narrow dress
could not entirely fetter.

“In truth,” thought I, “this forlorn place
seems much unlike a paradise of poverty;
but if it were, thou, my pretty damsel, might
surely be its angel.” She blushed and smiled
as she met my glance of delighted surprise;
and at that moment she looked so
like Angelina standing beneath the crimson
curtain, that I would fain have clasped her to
my heart.

The delightful dream was interrupted by a
sharp reprimand from the old woman, for
having been so tardy in filling the bag with
cranberries. She concluded by saying—“I
guess we shall make a profitable spot o' the
work o' taking Master Dudley to board.” I

[figure description] Page 231.[end figure description]

involuntarily glanced toward the young man
to whom she alluded. His countenance
pleased me exceedingly, though his features
were far from handsome. A slight degree
of sadness tinged an expression remarkably
ingenuous and intellectual, and made his face
the sun-dial of the soul, where genius might
mark all its changes in alternate sunshine and
shadow.

With a voice and manner which indicated
the respect he had inspired, I asked him to
accompany me to the spot consecrated by
King Philip's battle. He readily complied
with my request, assuring me that it was just
beyond the neighbouring meadow. The old
man had meekly resumed his pipe, and languidly
nodded his head in answer to my parting
salutation. The old woman was busily
emptying her cranberries, and did not notice
that, as we left the house, the eyes of the
young people met, and spoke volumes at a
glance. Surely the eye is the vocabulary of
disembodied spirits; for human sounds have
never yet been able to define its rapid comprehensive
language. Responding to his

[figure description] Page 232.[end figure description]

thoughts as if they had been uttered, I observed,
“that young girl possesses singular
beauty.” “Yes,” answered Mr. Dudley,
“and talents still more extraordinary. She
is but fourteen years old, and has never had
advantages superiour to those afforded by
my school; yet you would be astonished at
her instinctive sense of all that is sublime or
beautiful.” There was a dignified enthusiasm
in the speaker's manner, which confirmed
the favourable impression I had received
from his countenance. “This is no place
for such minds,” answered I; “pardon me
if I ask why you bury your talents here.
Why not come forward and join in the honourable
competition of intelligent men?”
“Poverty, a chain which has kept down
many spirits more ambitious than my own,
first brought me here,” rejoined he; “and
pity for the poor girl you have just seen, induces
me to remain.” “In what way can
your residence here benefit her,” said I.
“I should think it might possibly prove injurious
to you both.” “I understand you,”
replied he, colouring deeply. “The

[figure description] Page 233.[end figure description]

interest I have taken in her is honourable and
disinterested, and precisely such as would
have been awakened in any mind, acquainted
with her desolate situation and extraordinary
gifts. With tears in her eyes, she last winter
entreated me to teach her occasionally during
the long evenings, that she herself might
soon be qualified to instruct. I promised I
would. I found in her an uncommon facility
in acquiring knowledge; and cost me what
it will, I will not leave her till she is able by
her own exertions to throw off the yoke of
unfeeling tyranny which now bows her to
the earth.” “Are not her grand-parents
kind to her, then,” inquired I. “They are
no relations of her's,” rejoined Dudley.
“Their name is Hager, her own is Margaret
Williams. She was brought here, when
about four years old, by a gentleman who
called himself Vinton. He paid her board
until she was eight years old; but since that
time they have heard nothing from him, and
all inquiries for such a man have proved fruitless.
Her work has been worth something
to them, so they have not turned her adrift

[figure description] Page 234.[end figure description]

upon the world; but the scanty pittance she
receives is given grudgingly enough.” “The
state of things within doors,” said I, “does
not indicate so much energy as you represent
Margaret to possess.” “She is the slave,
and not the superintendant there,” answered
he. “Besides, what is human nature without
motives to impel it to exertion? No
thanks reward her toil—no smile of approbation
shows that her carefulness is noted—but
I forget, you are a stranger—and here we
are by the side of what is called the monument.”

A rude pile of earth and bricks, against
which leaned a stone bearing the date of the
battle, and the names of Bruklebank, Wadsworth,
&c. was all that marked the spot. In
my eyes it was more venerable than many a
lofty pile I had seen in foreign abbeys. They
spoke the idle pageantry of regal folly, or
commemorated the mad projects of unprincipled
ambition; but this was one of the humble
memorials of our forefathers—men of
obscure rank, yet born to a lofty destiny—
outposts from the vanguard of our youthful

[figure description] Page 235.[end figure description]

nation, yet volunteers who threw themselves
across the pit-falls in her dangerous path,
and bade the car of liberty crush them in its
onward course.

At another time, I should have given myself
up longer to these heart-stirring recollections;
but I was really touched by the
details I had just heard, and I plainly saw
the feelings of my young companion were
wounded by my seeming coldness. After
walking a few steps from the monument, in
silence, I said, “you must excuse a blunt old
bachelor, Mr. Dudley, if he does ask such
an abrupt question, as, what do you mean to
do with yourself hereafter?” “The only
definite purpose I have,” replied the young
man, “is to obtain a liberal education, if
possible. My course will be guided by the
leadings of Providence.” “Why do you not
go to West Point?” said I. “Because I
have neither friends, nor influence,” rejoined
he. “It has been my favourite project, I
acknowledge; but alone and unassisted as I
am in the world, it would be presumption in
me to hope for it.” “I like your looks and

[figure description] Page 236.[end figure description]

your sentiments, young man,” replied I,
“and it shall not be my fault if your ambitious
wishes are not fulfilled. As for that
charming Margaret, who has awakened your
pity so much, if you are not afraid to trust
her to an old fellow like me, I will support
her at the best school in Boston for three
succeeding years.” Mr. Dudley looked at
me a moment, as if he wished to penetrate
my very soul, and said, “if you mean as you
say, sir, may heaven bless you for the
thought.” “I do mean as I say,” rejoined I.
“I am alone in life, with an easy fortune, and
I find the bank of benevolence pays me the
largest dividend of happiness.”

Mr. Dudley seemed to forget my promises
concerning West Point, but he talked of
what Margaret Williams might be made by
education, and thanked me for my purposes
towards her, with a fervent gratitude, which
renewed my own youthful affections.

When we returned to Mr. Hagar's miserable
dwelling, we found every thing much as
we had left it, excepting that the hearth was
neatly washed, and the supper-table spread

[figure description] Page 237.[end figure description]

in quite an orderly manner. Having asked
the good dame's leave to share their repast,
I began to talk of the subject which had so
much interested Mr. Dudley on his walk
homeward. When I asked Margaret if she
would accompany me to Boston, and go to
school there, she looked timidly first at me,
and then at Mr. Dudley, and covering her
face with both her hands, burst into tears.
The old man seemed somewhat moved, and
said the poor orphan was welcome to a corner
of his house so long as he lived. “Which
won't be long, at the rate you've gone on of
late years,” rejoined his wife. “Peggy has
been a bill of expense to us long enough;
and it's a hard case to have her go off as
soon as she's good for something.” “I will
satisfy you in that respect, good woman,”
said I; “we shall not quarrel about the
terms, if Margaret will but say she will go
with me.” “You are a stranger to us, sir,”
resumed the matron; but doubtless you have
good reasons for taking such a violent liking
to Peggy.” “His stainless reputation is no
stranger to me,” said Mr. Dudley, “though

[figure description] Page 238.[end figure description]

I have never seen his person before. The
name of* * *is associated with too many
generous deeds, not to be known at the remotest
corners of Massachusetts.” “Then
you think I had better go,” said Margaret.
“Most certainly I do,” replied Mr. Dudley.
“And will you say yes, now?” said I, affectionately
passing my hand over her long
black hair, as she stood beside me. The
poor orphan sunk kneeling at my feet, and
wept in the full gratitude of her heart, till
even her stern mistress turned towards the
window, to conceal her tears. I raised her
up with many assurances of kindness and protection;
she continued to weep, till, as I held
her hand within mine, her eye glanced upon
Angelina's ring. The eager curiosity with
which she regarded it, called to my mind,
what her height and womanly bearing had
well nigh made me forget, that she was but
a child—an artless, uncultured child! I
touched the spring and revealed the miniature
of my little favourite. “Oh, it is very beautiful,”
exclaimed she. “You never saw
such a ring before, I suppose?” said I.

[figure description] Page 239.[end figure description]

“No—I don't think I ever did,” replied she,
speaking in a very slow and hesitating manner.
She gazed in the fire very thoughtfully
for a moment, then sighing deeply, looked
in my face with an expression so like Angelina's,
when I first bade her farewell on board
the Amphitrite, that I felt determined she
should henceforth be my daughter. Once,
the wild idea did cross my brain, that she
was strangely like my lamented favourite, and
that the news of her death might all have
been a deception. But I had been at her
grave, I had heard the servants talk of the
burial, and the nurse describe her last moments;
and I smiled that imagination should
try to play such wild freaks with me.

For various reasons, I deemed it prudent
to remain at the farm-house that night, rather
than expose myself and my interesting protege
to the curiosity, and perchance the
jests, of my companions. I knew that my
oddity had long since placed me in an easychair
for life; and that my friends were willing
to grant me as much liberty as they did
their favourite dogs; allowing me to strike

[figure description] Page 240.[end figure description]

off into as many by-paths as I chose, and return
when and how I could.

I will not detail the various instances of
avarice and hard-heartedness, which were
elicited during the bargain I made with Mrs.
Hagar. Suffice it to say, the sum I promised
to pay her, as an indemnification for Margaret's
services, was certainly much larger
than I should willingly have given, had not
the country maiden so powerfully reminded
me of the fascinating little West-Indian. To
be brief, I seated Margaret beside me in the
stage, the following morning, claiming from
Mr. Dudley a promise to visit us in a few
weeks. “I will own all my errors first,”
said he smiling; “and then if you forgive
me, I shall feel proud to avail myself of your
invitation. I knew you by report, and I told
you Margaret's story, in hopes your quick
feelings and ready benevolence might be
aroused in her behalf.” “I thank you for
the stratagem,” said I, warmly shaking him
by the hand. “Unless your own conduct
alters my opinion of you, you will find me an
active friend.” A few kind words to the

[figure description] Page 241.[end figure description]

tearful Margaret, accompanied by a present
of Allan Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd, closed
the farewell scene. As for the old people,
they showed little emotion, except a vulgar
curiosity and wonder at my unaccountable
interest in their Peggy. To part from such
a home could not be very afflicting to any
heart. For a few days Margaret was melancholy,
and more than once I found her in
tears over the Gentle Shepherd; but she
soon became gayer than I had imagined it
was in her nature to be. All that Mr. Dudley
had said of her genius was more than
verified. It seemed as if she were gifted
with an additional sense, a sort of spiritual
ear, to which every waving flower and bending
shrub spoke strange melody. Her progress
was so rapid, that Mr. ****'s adopted
daughter soon became the wonder of the
whole school. Before two years had expired,
I received a letter from Mr. Fitzroy, a rich
planter in South-Carolina, entreating that
Miss Williams might return home with his
daughter, who was about to leave school.
Margaret's deference and modest affection

[figure description] Page 242.[end figure description]

had made her exceedingly dear to me; but
thinking that a visit to the south, under such
patronage, and with such a young lady as I
knew her friend to be, would be a great advantage
to her, I consented that she should
visit Carolina for one year. During this
time, I frequently received letters from her,
always full of deep, poetic fancy, and the
most enthusiastic, grateful affection. If the
reader finds it difficult to imagine so sudden
a change of character, I assure him it was no
less wonderful to me than it is to him.
There are minds which seem to have an instinctive
perception of all that is tasteful and
refined; and Margaret's was such. She had,
as it were at once, grown a tall, beautiful,
graceful girl, and had become the pride of a
foolish old heart, that at first clung to her in
pity. And where was the poor youth who
at first revealed the treasures hidden in her
heart and mind? He was at West Point.
And when Margaret made her visit to the
south, his name stood highest among that
celebrated band, which has so happily united
the courtliness of the drawing-room with

[figure description] Page 243.[end figure description]

the dignified refinement of intellectual pursuits—
like a mighty citadel, around which
the woodbine falls in accidental profusion,
giving lightness to its outline, without concealing
its strength.

* * * * * * *

The reader is, I suppose, well nigh weary
of following me in my rambles, now pausing
by the road-side to dissect a thistle, and anon
passing over whole fertile gardens without a
glance; but thus have I done in life, and
thus must he suffer me to do in my story, if
he ever wishes to hear its conclusion.

A letter from Margaret, dated in the autumn
of 1820, informed me that Mr. Fitzroy,
his daughter, and herself, were about making
a northern tour, and wished very much that
I should join them at New-York. I was not
certain, at the time, I should be able to do
this; but I promised to meet them on their
return. About a week after they left the
city, I arrived there, and immediately took
passage in the steam-boat, on the North River,
thinking I should hear of them at West-Point,
Lake George, or some other of the

[figure description] Page 244.[end figure description]

places, which I knew they intended to take
in their route. The passengers were, as
usual, an odd assemblage of all sorts of nations,
tribes, and tongues. A half facetious,
half fretful, old yankee was complaining bitterly
of the noise, and telling the captain he
ought to keep padlocks for the eyes in a
place like that; a Frenchman was tapping
his box with the most graceful air, and annoying
every body with his snuff and his voulezvous;
an Irishman, in his uncouth national
sounds, was most eloquently describing the
death of Emmett; and a little Dutch woman
with three chubby children, poured forth
a continual torrent of words as unmusical as
the rattling of a coal-cart over the pavements
of a city. Apart from all, sat a handsome,
but very dark-complexioned, young man,
completely absorbed in the enchanting pages
of Ivanhoe. He raised his eye as I stepped
on deck, but its long, dark lash fell almost instantly.
I took up a newspaper, and glancing
over its columns for a time, left the
interesting stranger to pursue his delightful
occupation in peace. It was long before he

[figure description] Page 245.[end figure description]

closed the volume, and in a silvery, flute-like
voice, made some casual remark concerning
the beauty of the day. This observation
was a very common one; but the words
were arranged with such unstudied elegance,
and his pronunciation had so much of music
about it, that my attention was immediately
excited.

There is a sort of free-masonry by which
intelligent and highly cultivated souls form a
rapid knowledge of each other. The conversation
soon passed to interesting subjects. A
fine head of Cicero, which I noticed on his
watch-seal, led to gems, and cameos, and
Herculaneum, and the curiously carved ring,
said to have been found there. On every
topic, his rich, classical mind, poured itself
out with the same delightful yet unostentatious
enthusiasm. “We are sinning against
nature,” said he, smiling, “to be talking of
antiquity, when such a scene of imposing
grandeur is presented to our view.” My
eye followed him as he pointed to the Highlands,
which were now before us; `some of
the heights swelling in gradual and noble

[figure description] Page 246.[end figure description]

elevation from the bank of the river; others
rising from the water in a perpendicular
mass, and starting into sharp and pointed
bluffs, as if thrown up there by the hand of
art. The noble river stole along in fearful
silence, as if sensible of the frowning majesty
which looked down upon its motion;' and
the vessel, rapidly `walking the water like a
thing of life,' seemed proud of her magnificent
pathway. The little waves sporting
and sparkling round her prow, the soft, silvery,
sunny stream, trembling in her rear,
and the wreaths of smoke rising as if in incense
to the beauty of the scene, all conspired
to make a steam-boat passing the Highlands
one of the grandest objects I had ever
seen. Soon the fortifications and buildings
of West Point burst upon the view. At first
we caught a distant glimpse of glittering arms,
and then of the youthful band standing forth
in all the pride of military discipline, as if
ready for the work of death. “I had no idea
of such scenery in America,” exclaimed the
stranger. “It brings to my eye the wild
picturesque, and sublime scenes which

[figure description] Page 247.[end figure description]

Scotland's great magician has imprinted on my
imagination.” “And yet,” replied I, “it
stands in its own simple majesty, without any
of that pageantry of association which throws
such enchantment around Europe and Asia.”
“Every thing about your country has to the
philosophic mind associations of moral grandeur,”
rejoined he, “though destitute of the
gorgeous blazonry of chivalry, or the wild
romance of the crusades.” “You are then
a foreigner?” said I. “I am so,” replied
he, “in every country; for I have been too
much a wanderer to call any place my home;
perhaps England best deserves that appellation.”

I seemed to have aroused melancholy recollections.
A cloud passed over the clear
expression of his face, and he was silent for
several moments. Wishing to give a more
pleasant turn to the conversation, I slipped
my ring from my finger, and handing it to
him, I said, “we were speaking of ancient
rings just now—there is one of very curious
workmanship.” As the hands unclasped,
he sprang up with an exclamation that pierced

[figure description] Page 248.[end figure description]

my very brain. In the unconscious power
of strong emotion he grasped my arm, till the
veins swelled beneath his pressure. It was
an instant before he could summon steadiness
enough to say, “Oh, tell me whence came
that ring!” When he was a little calmer, I
told him its history as briefly as possible, for
my curiosity was strongly excited to know
the cause of such vehement interest. He
listened with varied, but intense, expression
as I proceeded, and suddenly interrupted me
by exclaiming, “and where is that little
West-Indian girl? Oh, sir, I'd give you
wealth enough to buy a thousand consciences,
if you could but tell me where she is!”
“The interesting little creature has been
twelve years in her grave,” said I; “but may
I ask who it is that thus cherishes her memory?”
“I am her brother Orlando,” replied
he, “and I have a tale of fearful wickedness
to tell you, about the charming companion
of my infancy; but I have not time to detail
it now. The boat is slackening her course
and makes for the shore. I land at West
Point—I trust you do too.” I answered

[figure description] Page 249.[end figure description]

that such was my intention, and made hasty
preparations to quit the boat. My curiosity
was so painfully excited, that I could hardly
wait until the possession of a private room at
the lodging house gave him an opportunity
to explain his meaning.

“I left Cuba for England, soon after my
sister went to America,” he resumed; “and
there I continued until after my father's
death. I remained abroad and travelled even
into the interiour of Asia, partly from a love
of adventure, and partly because no fire-side
endearments awaited me in Cuba. During
my childhood, I received letters from Mr.
Reynolds, informing me of my sister's health
and progress in her education. Afterwards
I received letters from herself which indicated
entire contentment with her situation. It
is not a year since I received one, in which
she excused a draft upon our agent for a very
large sum, by saying she found great calls
upon her benevolence. I was glad she possessed
this spirit. I answered the letter by
a promise to be in Boston during the summer
of 1820. I came—I eagerly inquired for

[figure description] Page 250.[end figure description]

Mr. Reynolds. The merchants said he had
called in his debts very rapidly, left his affairs
half settled, started very suddenly for Calcutta,
and been shipwrecked. I asked for
Angelina, and was assured she died soon
after she came to this country, and the
grave-stone bearing her name and age was
then shown to me.” “The villain,” exclaimed
I; “he concealed it, that he might
appropriate her property to his own use!”
“Oh, I could forgive him that,” cried the
brother, almost convulsively; “yes, I could
have forgiven him if he had taken the last
shilling of my fortune; but—the child still
lives—and I cannot discover her!” “The
proof—tell me the proof,” said I. “I
searched out one of the old servants,” he
replied, “that I might learn all the particulars
of my sister's illness. At first she shook
her head mysteriously, and said she believed
there had been some strange doings; and at
last I induced her to tell me the old nurse
had, on her death-bed, confessed that the
child which slept under that grave-stone was
not Angelina Gindrat, but her own daughter;

[figure description] Page 251.[end figure description]

that Mr. Reynolds had paid her handsomely
for the deception; and that she believed the
little West-Indian was put out at service in
the country. Further than this, all my inquiries
have been fruitless. I cannot discover
the least trace of my injured sister;
and I am roaming about the country with a
sort of indefinite hope that Providence will
lead me to a discovery of her retreat.” A
sudden light came upon my mind, like an
electric flash; and I was just on the point of
saying, “your hope is realized!” but recollecting
the extreme uncertainty of my conjectures,
and the cruelty of exciting vain
expectations, I checked the tumult of my
feelings, and asked if there were any peculiarity
by which he should know his sister.
“In my boyhood,” answered he, “I pricked
upon her right arm a carrier-dove, with a
letter in his mouth; and on the day she bade
me farewell, she held it to my lips and bade
me kiss it.” I well recollected it, for Angelina
had a hundred times talked of Orlando's
little bird. Much conversation followed. I
advised Mr. Gindrat to remain at West Point

[figure description] Page 252.[end figure description]

a short time, as he would, in all probability,
see many strangers there, and by some extraordinary
accident, light might gleam on
this singular story; but I did not venture to
express a hope which amounted almost to
entire conviction. He consented to follow
my advice, and I left him, to communicate
with all speed, my hopes and fears to young
Dudley. The Cadet gave me a reception
exceedingly cordial and enthusiastic. “To
see you at any time, is happiness for me,”
said he, “but now, you are the very man, of
all the world, I most wished to see; for I
have lately received a commission from Miss
Williams to find you, at all events, and bring
you into her presence at the military ball,
which is to be at New-York, the ensuing
week. You are such a bird on the wing,
that I have despatched letters to Philadelphia,
Canandaigua, and New-York, which
are the three last places from whence your
letters have been dated, in hopes some one
of them would reach you.” As soon as the
bustle of meeting was over, I told him all
with which the reader has been made

[figure description] Page 253.[end figure description]

acquainted, and expatiated very largely upon
my belief that Angelina Gindrat and Margaret
Williams were one and the same person.
I was a little disappointed at the calmness,
and even sadness, with which Mr. Dudley
heard my disclosure; and I reproached him
for want of sympathy in my daughter's good
fortune. “I will deal frankly with you,”
replied the young man. “As your adopted
child, admired and flattered by the rich and
intelligent, I have long felt that my hold upon
her remembrance was exceedingly precarious;
but if she is heiress to this immense
fortune, her hand will soon be sought by
numbers, superior to me in all respects.” “I
have no right to answer for Margaret's feelings,”
rejoined I, “but of one thing I am
certain: this change of fortune will make no
change in her romantic nature.” This assurance
somewhat dispelled his gloom, and
having naturally the slightest possible degree
of selfishness in his disposition, he soon
entered with enthusiasm into all my hopes
and fears. When I asked him if he had ever
heard Mrs. Hagar describe the Mr. Vinton

[figure description] Page 254.[end figure description]

who left Margaret with them, he answered
that he had. In every respect the description
corresponded with my vivid recollection
of Mr. Reynolds. A thousand trifling details
tended so much to confirm my suspicions,
that my eagerness to meet Margaret grew
painful in its excess. Report said that the
great southern beauty, Miss Fitzroy, was to
be in New-York two days before the ball.
Young Dudley and Mr. Gindrat accompanied
me there. I awaited their arrival with the
most eager impatience, and clasped Margaret
to my heart the moment she alighted from
the carriage. I pass over all the delight of
meeting; all the thousand kind things said
and thought; all the joy and timidity of
young Dudley; and only pause to mention
that in the short space of two days, I three
times surprised Margaret Williams entirely
absorbed in Allan Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd,
before I introduce my readers to the
lighted ball-room. When I entered, with
Margaret leaning on my arm, much of the
company had already assembled, and an audible
buzz of admiration followed her as we

[figure description] Page 255.[end figure description]

passed along. Chandeliers, flowers, and
groups of beautiful heads, always give to a
ball-room the mellow brilliancy of fairy-land;
but a military ball has charms peculiar to itself;
it seems like a fragment of chivalry,
and partakes of the high, poetic interest of
tilts and tournaments. As I looked round
upon the gay scene, I heard a loud whisper
of applause, and soon perceived that it announced
the entrance of my friend Miss
Fitzroy. Her blazing and radiant beauty
was of a character totally different from my
Margaret's. Her face and figure were the
statuary's embodied dream; her complexion
was dazzlingly fair, and her eyes had an expression
lucid and tranquil, as Lake George
by summer's moonlight. In the Venus de
Medicis, art studied nature, and in one form
concentrated the graces of a thousand models;
but it now seemed as if nature, vexed
at the successful rivalry, had studied every
line of beauty from Praxiteless to Canova,
and thrown over the whole the rich colouring
of Titian. She glided through the room
with a majestic, swan-like motion, so modest

[figure description] Page 256.[end figure description]

in its pride, that it seemed like a total unconsciousness
of her charms. While I was
listening to some eloquent badinage upon
having hurried Margaret away from her, I
saw Mr. Gindrat enter. I had seen him
much, and become more and more interested
in him during the brief period I have mentioned;
but as I became convinced that
Margaret was his sister, I earnestly wished
that he should meet her in public, and judge
of her as an entire stranger. That she was
Angelina Gindrat I had now no doubt; for
under the pretence of telling her fortune, I
had asked her to show me her arm. The
carrier-dove and his letter were there as plain
as when I first kissed that little arm on board
the Amphitrite; and with deep fervour my
heart thanked the all-wise Being who had
thus enabled me unconsciously to fulfil my
promise to Mrs. Reynolds. With excitement
almost too tumultuous to be happy, I sought
Mr. Gindrat, to introduce him to Margaret.
“Who are those beautiful ladies you have
just left?” inquired he, after the first salutation
had passed. “It is the celebrated Miss

[figure description] Page 257.[end figure description]

Fitzroy, from the south, and her friend Miss
Williams,” replied I. “The one with pearls
in her hair is the famous beauty.

“She is indeed a beautiful creature,” rejoined
he, “but what a queen-like figure
stands beside her! How genius pours forth
in torrents of expression! and how much
graceful vivacity there is in the very bend of
her neck!” “She is my adopted daughter,”
said I, “and if you wish, I will introduce
you.” “But why have I not heard of her
before!” asked he, in a tone of surprise.
“Oh, we have had weightier matters to talk
of, you know, and rich young men are apt to
suspect fathers, who are too anxious to introduce
their daughters.” Smiling, he followed
me toward the ladies, and I introduced him
as a friend from Europe. Both were obviously
prepossessed in his favour; and it was

[figure description] Page 258.[end figure description]

soon whispered among the circle of beaux,
that Miss Fitzroy had never before condescended
to treat any gentleman with so much
attention. She accepted his invitation to
dance, and they took their places at the
head of the first cotillion. Two reputed lovers
of Margaret's were making their way
toward her, when she involuntarily gave an
earnest glance toward the place where Dudley
stood aloof, apparently in no very cheerful
mood. He met the expressive look, and
was instantly at her side. I heard much
animated conversation whenever the couples
met in the windings of the dance; and when
the ladies were seated near me, Gindrat took
his station at Margaret's side. “These
orange and lemon trees,” said he, “almost
make me imagine myself in my native island;
and there are flowers here to night,” added
he, with marked emphasis, “so like the productions
of my sunny clime, that the recollections
of my childhood come vividly before
me; and he went on describing the beauties
of tropical regions with surprising volubility
and eloquence. Miss Fitzroy listened with

[figure description] Page 259.[end figure description]

a marked interest, which made some of her
admirers frown; and Margaret gave one of
her most fascinating smiles, as she said, “I
have strange thoughts sometimes. As you
describe these scenes, it seems to me like recalling
a dream long since forgotten. Visions
crowd on my memory, and are gone before
I can trace their outline. I am half tempted
to believe in the transmigration of souls. Who
knows but that, as a happy little bird, I have
floated over the scenes you describe so well?
Gindrat listened with a mingled air of deference
and admiration; and Dudley gave me
a glance full of prophetic meaning. The
two beauties were soon after engaged in another
dance. Margaret was Mr. Gindrat's
partner, and I watched their growing interest
in each other, with a heart even more happy
than their own. I had resolved that the denouement
should take place the next day,
and my imagination was rapidly running over
the scene—when Margaret chanced to drop
her bracelet. Mr. Gindrat took it up, and
as she stepped aside to clasp it he remarked
the beauty of the workmanship. It was an

[figure description] Page 260.[end figure description]

exquisitely cut cameo of Psyche, upon a
yellow ground. After looking at it, an instant,
“May I have the honour?” said he,
offering to place it upon her arm. Her lace
sleeve was slightly deranged, and she turned
her arm to adjust it. A half suppressed
ejaculation burst from Gindrat's lips, and
reeling with faintness, he leaned against the
folding doors. I supported him to the air.
“Put me into a carriage,” said he quickly,
“and come with me—come with me.” I
saw how it was—the transparent sleeve had
betrayed the carrier-dove, and all my plans
of a regular catastrophe were frustrated.

* * * * * * *

When I asked my new friend to forgive me
for thus concealing my conjectures—“Say
nothing of forgiveness,” cried he. “To
find her at all, would have been a blessing.
Yes, even in ignorance and obscurity; but
to find her thus—so elegant—so well educated—
Oh, may heaven bless you! may heaven
bless you! Money can, and shall reward

[figure description] Page 261.[end figure description]

her rough country protectors; but you—Oh,
may heaven bless you!”

All the wonder and joy which followed
can be better imagined than expressed.
Crowds of suitors contended with each other
for the bright West-Indian prize. To all,
she gave a kind, but very decided negative;
and all her friends, except Frank Dudley,
divined the cause. The sight of Allan
Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd marked in many
interesting places, and blistered with tears,
did at length enable hope to weigh down the
long fluctuating scale in his distrustful mind.
Mr. Gindrat felt grateful to his sister's long-tried
friend, the beautiful Miss Fitzroy; and
in his enthusiastic nature, gratitude changed
to love almost as suddenly as the aloe bursts
into blossom when touched by fairy wand.
Both the lovers were made happy by a frank
avowal of reciprocated attachment; and one
bright June day witnessed their splendid
bridals. Mr. Gindrat has sold his West-India
property, and purchased two beautiful
plantations in Virginia; and Angelina and

[figure description] Page 262.[end figure description]

Orlando live within sight of each other's
piazzas. I care less about rambling, now
that my heart has such a happy home; but
I have not lost, and I trust I shall never lose,
an active, affectionate interest in my fellow
creatures, though I am an odd old bachelor.

p045-280 A NEW YEAR'S OFFERING TO A FRIEND.

[figure description] Page 263.[end figure description]

p045-282 NATURE AND SIMPLICITY.

“The tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.”

[figure description] Page 265.[end figure description]

No one of gifted mind has passed even
the first freshness of youth, without feeling
that it is not with him as it has been. Knowledge
and taste may have increased his intellectual
riches, and association may have
added her powerful spell to half the charms
of nature; but the soul does not rejoice in
these possessions, as it once did in the simple
wealth of birds and flowers.

We talk very philosophically of the negative
enjoyments of childhood; and try to
convince ourselves that the light and glory

[figure description] Page 266.[end figure description]

which memory throws around it, are but the
delusions of imagination. It is not well to
argue thus. There is deep meaning in the
maxim, “Reverence little children;” and it
would be better for us, both here and hereafter,
if we inscribed it on our hearts as a
spell against the festering influence of our
own bad passions. I would not, with sickly
sentimentality, mourn over states of mind
never to be entirely recalled: this idle habit
has too often wasted the strength of intellect,
and been assumed by inferior minds, incapable
of imitating anything of genius except
its errors.

But if we observe that all the world look
back to the earlier stages of being with fond
regret, ought we not to suppose there is
strong reason for so deep a feeling? If the
thoughts and affections were then veiled in
a robe of sunbeams, should we not ask
whence the light came, and why it now visits
us so transiently?

There is but one answer—we are simple
and artless then. Therefore the influence of
God is around us, and within us, like the

[figure description] Page 267.[end figure description]

atmosphere we breathe, sustaining life and
giving joy to those who perchance have never
known there was an atmosphere.

If, then, there is such close sympathy
between simplicity and heaven, let us earnestly
strive to “be as little children.” It
is not well to be too wise for happiness; it
is not safe to be too learned for salvation.

Byron was an intellectual Laocoon, writhing
majestically in the embrace of serpents
himself had wakened into life; but how
much wiser and happier is that meek and
quiet poet, who finds in a simple wild-flower
“thoughts too deep for tears.”

Every thing that we involuntarily love is
true to nature; and nothing that we learn to
love produces fresh and glowing emotions.

What is genius? It is but a fitting expression
of that which Nature teaches the
soul; and when our hearts thrill in sympathy
with this mysterious power, we wonder that
those simple feelings, which form the very
elements of our common nature, are not
always as artlessly expressed.

[figure description] Page 268.[end figure description]

What are gracefulness and majesty? We
find them in the rapid gambols of the antelope,
and the stately motion of the eagle;
and we love and admire them because they
speak of happy freedom, careless of observers.

Art, with her utmost skill, never touches
the heart, unless she makes herself forgotten
by her close imitation of nature. Why do
we suffer pride, vanity, or ambition, to take
from us a gift, which we exert all our faculties
to seem to possess?

Our religion expressly tells us how to
“enter the kingdom of heaven;” our own
hearts repeat it with mournful tenderness,
whenever we look on the guilenessness of
infancy; and why do we persist in disobeying
the lesson?

The haughty soul of man has always
scorned simplicity. He, that was told to
wash in the pool, and be healed, was indignant
because he was not commanded to perform
some great thing; and thus it ever is
with us self-sufficient mortals. We are willing
to make extraordinary sacrifices, and act

[figure description] Page 269.[end figure description]

an arduous part, in order to attain the very
character that would be the natural result of
a simple and sincere course. We destroy
the vitality of nature by engrafting upon her
motives taught by worldly selfishness; and
we are then obliged to counterfeit what we
cannot regain. This is the reason “a glory
has departed from the earth;” and for this
cause do the welcome indications of its return
come so rarely and so briefly, to gladden the
rich in mind, and innocent of heart. If we
were willing to “become as little children,”
we should keep our souls open to the holy
influence of God's works, as well as his
word; and then we should not have cause to
mourn over the faded brightness of our youth.
The Dodonian oracle spoke through doves
and trees; and the pure in heart may still
hear a voice in nature proclaiming truth
from heaven.

p045-287 CHOCORUA'S CURSE.

[figure description] Page 270.[end figure description]

The rocky county of Strafford, New-Hampshire,
is remarkable for its wild and
broken scenery. Ranges of hills towering
one above another, as if eager to look upon
the beautiful country, which afar off lies
sleeping in the embrace of heaven; precipices,
from which the young eagles take their
flight to the sun; dells rugged and tangled as
the dominions of Roderick Vich Alpine, and
ravines dark and deep enough for the death
scene of a bandit, form the magnificent characteristics
of this picturesque region.

A high precipice, called Chocorua's Cliff,
is rendered peculiarly interesting by a legend
which tradition has scarcely saved from utter
oblivion. Had it been in Scotland, perhaps
the genius of Sir Walter would have hallowed
it, and Americans would have crowded
there to kindle fancy on the altar of memory.

[figure description] Page 271.[end figure description]

Being in the midst of our own romantic
scenery, it is little known, and less visited;
for the vicinity is as yet untraversed by railroads
or canals, and no “Mountain House,”
perched on these tremendous battlements,
allures the traveller hither to mock the majesty
of nature with the insipidities of fashion.
Our distinguished artist, Mr. Cole, found the
sunshine and the winds sleeping upon it in
solitude and secresy; and his pencil has
brought it before us in its stern repose.

In olden time, when Goffe and Whalley
passed for wizards and mountain spirits
among the superstitious, the vicinity of the
spot we have been describing was occupied
by a very small colony, which, either from
discontent or enterprise, had retired into this
remote part of New-Hampshire. Most of
them were ordinary men, led to this independent
mode of life from an impatience of
restraint, which as frequently accompanies
vulgar obstinacy as generous pride. But
there was one master spirit among them,
who was capable of a higher destiny than he
ever fulfilled. The consciousness of this had

[figure description] Page 272.[end figure description]

stamped something of proud humility on the
face of Cornelius Campbell; something of a
haughty spirit, strongly curbed by circumstances
he could not control, and at which
he scorned to murmur. He assumed no
superiority; but unconsciously he threw
around him the spell of intellect, and his
companions felt, they knew not why, that
he was “among them, but not of them.”
His stature was gigantic, and he had the
bold, quick tread of one who had wandered
frequently and fearlessly among the terrible
hiding-places of nature. His voice was
harsh, but his whole countenance possessed
singular capabilities for tenderness of expression;
and sometimes, under the gentle influence
of domestic excitement, his hard features
would be rapidly lighted up, seeming like the
sunshine flying over the shaded fields in an
April day.

His companion was one peculiarly calculated
to excite and retain the deep, strong
energies of manly love. She had possessed
extraordinary beauty; and had, in the full
maturity of an excellent judgment,

[figure description] Page 273.[end figure description]

relinquished several splendid alliances, and incurred
her father's displeasure, for the sake of Cornelius
Campbell. Had political circumstances
proved favourable, his talents and ambition
would unquestionably have worked out
a path to emolument and fame; but he had
been a zealous and active enemy of the Stuarts,
and the restoration of Charles the
Second was the death-warrant of his hopes.
Immediate flight became necessary, and
America was the chosen place of refuge.
His adherence to Cromwell's party was not
occasioned by religious sympathy, but by
political views, too liberal and philosophical
for the state of the people; therefore Cornelius
Campbell was no favourite with our forefathers,
and being of a proud nature, he
withdrew with his family to the solitary place
we have mentioned.

It seemed a hard fate for one who had
from childhood been accustomed to indulgence
and admiration, yet Mrs. Campbell
enjoyed more than she had done in her days
of splendour; so much deeper are the sources
of happiness than those of gaiety. Even her

[figure description] Page 274.[end figure description]

face had suffered little from time and hardship.
The bloom on her cheek, which in
youth had been like the sweet-pea blossom,
that most feminine of all flowers, had, it is
true, somewhat faded; but her rich, intellectual
expression, did but receive additional
majesty from years; and the exercise of quiet
domestic love, which, where it is suffered to
exist, always deepens and brightens with
time, had given a bland and placid expression,
which might well have atoned for the absence
of more striking beauty. To such a woman
as Caroline Campbell, of what use would
have been some modern doctrines of equality
and independence?

With a mind sufficiently cultivated to appreciate
and enjoy her husband's intellectual
energies, she had a heart that could not have
found another home. The bird will drop
into its nest though the treasures of earth
and sky are open. To have proved marriage
a tyranny, and the cares of domestic life a
thraldom, would have affected Caroline
Campbell as little, as to be told that the
pure, sweet atmosphere she breathed, was

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pressing upon her so many pounds to every
square inch! Over such a heart, and such
a soul, external circumstances have little
power; all worldly interest was concentrated
in her husband and babes, and her spirit was
satisfied with that inexhaustible fountain of
joy which nature gives, and God has blessed.

A very small settlement, in such a remote
place, was of course subject to inconvenience
and occasional suffering. From the Indians
they received neither injury nor insult. No
cause of quarrel had ever arisen; and, although
their frequent visits were sometimes
troublesome, they never had given indications
of jealousy or malice. Chocorua was
a prophet among them, and as such an object
of peculiar respect. He had a mind
which education and motive would have
nerved with giant strength; but growing up
in savage freedom, it wasted itself in dark,
fierce, ungovernable passions. There was
something fearful in the quiet haughtiness of
his lip—it seemed so like slumbering power,
too proud to be lightly roused, and too implacable
to sleep again. In his small, black,

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fiery eye, expression lay coiled up like a
beautiful snake. The white people knew
that his hatred would be terrible; but they
had never provoked it, and even the children
became too much accustomed to him to fear
him.

Chocorua had a son, about nine or ten
years old, to whom Caroline Campbell had
occasionally made such gaudy presents as
were likely to attract his savage fancy. This
won the child's affections, so that he became
a familiar visitant, almost an inmate of their
dwelling; and being unrestrained by the
courtesies of civilized life, he would inspect
everything, and taste of everything which
came in his way. Some poison, prepared
for a mischievous fox, which had long troubled
the little settlement, was discovered and
drunk by the Indian boy; and he went home
to his father to sicken and die. From that
moment jealousy and hatred took possession
of Chocorua's soul. He never told his suspicions—
he brooded over them in secret, to
nourish the deadly revenge he contemplated
against Cornelius Campbell.

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The story of Indian animosity is always
the same. Cornelius Campbell left his hut
for the fields early one bright, balmy morning
in June. Still a lover, though ten years a
husband, his last look was turned towards his
wife, answering her parting smile—his last
action a kiss for each of his children. When
he returned to dinner, they were dead—all
dead! and their disfigured bodies too cruelly
showed that an Indian's hand had done the
work!

In such a mind grief, like all other emotions,
was tempestuous. Home had been to
him the only verdant spot in the wide desert
of life. In his wife and children he had garnered
up all his heart; and now they were
torn from him, the remembrance of their love
clung to him like the death-grapple of a
drowning man, sinking him down, down, into
darkness and death. This was followed
by a calm a thousand times more terrible—
the creeping agony of despair, that brings
with it no power of resistance.

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Such, for many days, was the state of
Cornelius Campbell. Those who knew and
reverenced him, feared that the spark of
reason was forever extinguished. But it rekindled
again, and with it came a wild, demoniac
spirit of revenge. The death-groan
of Chocorua would make him smile in his
dreams; and when he waked, death seemed
too pitiful a vengeance for the anguish that
was eating into his very soul.

Chocorua's brethern were absent on a
hunting expedition at the time he committed
the murder; and those who watched his
movements observed that he frequently
climbed the high precipice, which afterward
took his name, probably looking out for indications
of their return.

Here Cornelius Campbell resolved to effect
his deadly purpose. A party was formed
under his guidance, to cut off all chance
of retreat, and the dark-minded prophet was
to be hunted like a wild beast to his lair.

The morning sun had scarce cleared away
the fogs when Chocorua started at a loud
voice from beneath the precipice,

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commanding him to throw himself into the deep abyss
below. He knew the voice of his enemy,
and replied with an Indian's calmness,
“The Great Spirit gave life to Chocorua;
and Chocorua will not throw it away at the
command of a white man.” “Then hear
the Great Spirit speak in the white man's
thunder!” exclaimed Cornelius Campbell,
as he pointed his gun to the precipice. Chocorua,
though fierce and fearless as a panther,
had never overcome his dread of fire-arms.
He placed his hand upon his ears to shut out
the stunning report; the next moment the
blood bubbled from his neck, and he reeled
fearfully on the edge of the precipice. But
he recovered himself, and, raising himself on
his hands, he spoke in a loud voice, that
grew more terrific as its huskiness increased,
“A curse upon ye, white men! May the
Great Spirit curse ye when he speaks in the
clouds, and his words are fire! Chocorua
had a son—and ye killed him while his eye
still loved to look on the bright sun, and the
green earth! The Evil Spirit breathe death
upon your cattle! Your graves lie in the war

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path of the Indian! Panthers howl, and
wolves fatten over your bones! Chocorua
goes to the Great Spirit—his curse stays with
the white men!”

The prophet sunk upon the ground, still
uttering inaudible curses—and they left his
bones to whiten in the sun. But his curse
rested on the settlement. The tomahawk
and scalping knife were busy among them,
the winds tore up trees and hurled them at
their dwellings, their crops were blasted,
their cattle died, and sickness came upon
their strongest men. At last the remnant of
them departed from the fatal spot to mingle
with more populous and prosperous colonies.
Cornelius Campbell became a hermit, seldom
seeking or seeing his fellow men; and two
years after he was found dead in his hut.

To this day the town of Burton, in New-Hampshire,
is remarkable for a pestilence
which infects its cattle; and the superstitious
think that Chocorua's spirit still sits enthroned
upon his precipice, breathing a curse upon
them.

p045-298 TO A HUSBAND, Who presented, as a New-Year's Offering, a Heart and a Laurel wreath, the leaves of which were not very abundant.

I care not for the wreath of laurel
It never soothed my brow—
Its scanty leaves convey a moral,
I've learned full well ere now.
And could fame's fairest amplest dower
Descend to one like me,
I'd not exchange a transient hour
Of sunny smiles from thee!
Then take the wreath—I love the heart—
For 'tis a type of thine—
From such a gift I cannot part,
While there is life in mine.
But keep the wreath—I prize it not,
While I am loved by thee;
And should my image be forgot,
Oh! what were crowns to me?

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p045-299 THE FIRST AND LAST BOOK.

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One remembers writing his first book as
distinctly as he recollects the first time he
saw the ocean. Like the unquiet sea, all
the elements of our nature are then heaving
and tumultuous. Restless, insatiable ambition,
is on us like a fiery charm. Every thing
partakes of the brightness and boundlessness
of our own hopes. Nature is encircled with
a perpetual glory; and the seasons, as they
pass on, scatter pearls and diamonds for our
abundant fancy. It then seems strange how
mortals can avoid being intellectually great;
for irresistible inspiration appears to stream
in upon the human mind, like the light and
heat of the sun. Creation is an open volume
of poetry and truth, and it seems as if whoever
glanced upon it must read what angels
have written there.

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We then feel interested in all the world,
and think all the world must feel interested
in us: yet it is not vanity—it is simply the
expansive power of a youthful ambitious
mind, measuring its strength by its hopes.
We then write because we cannot help it—
the mind is a full fountain that will overflow—
and if the waters sparkle as they fall, it is
from their own impetuous abundance.

Such are the feelings with which we write
at first. Afterward, the cares of the world
press heavily on the spirit. The smiles of
the public no longer have power to kindle
us into enthusiastic energy; and its frowns
fall like a shadow on the rock. We learn
that ambition is not always power—that the
eager eye may be fastened on the sun, but
the weary wing can never reach it.

The goal, which once appeared bright in
the distance, is despised because another still
brighter lies beyond it—and when we know
how unsatisfactory that too would prove, if
gained, how can it be pursued with eagerness?

Whoever seeks for fame rolls the stone of
Sisyphus. When we have grown old at the

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task, the sight of young ambition sometimes
makes us smile in sad mockery of its hopes;
and we feel that imagination has no bitterer
curse to bestow upon an enemy.

But thoughts like these are merely the occasional
struggles of the giant beneath the
mountain he cannot heave from him. In
general, the love of quiet rests on the mind
like a drowsy spell; and we are well content
to have for our epitaph that we have lived,
and have died. Alas, that the proud and
weary spirit cannot always rest! The opal,
pale, and cold, and cloudy, as it seems, has a
spark of fire forever imprisoned in its bosom.

The last book, like the first, may indeed
be written because we cannot help it: not that
the full mind overflows—but the printer's
boy stands at our elbow. We then look to
bookseller's accounts for inspiration, hunt for
pearls because we have promised to furnish
them, and string glass beads because they
will sell better than diamonds.

Such is the difference between the first and
last of all things the world can give us. We
start fresh and vigorous, as if life were a

[figure description] Page 285.[end figure description]

revelry—the game proves to be a battle, hardly
worth the winning—and we pause mid-way
tired and disheartened, content to dream ourselves
into the realities of death.

But there are gifts, over which the world
has no power. Religious hope, and deep
domestic love, can meet no change, except
the transfer from a happy earth to a happier
heaven. The heart,—blessed be God! the
heart never grows old.