that sounds as impossibly as "Emperor of | Scipios and the Cæsars on the other; and America," or as if one were to say, "The "And oaks come down with all their thousand But these aspects appeal to our higher "By his loved huntsman's arrow bled;" borazo and the Mountains of the Moon are magnificent objects. We prefer the Alps; "A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around them." The shadows of Theseus, Hannibal, Alaric, then the poetry of Byron, Shelley and others is so linked with these lofty localities! Lake Leman, for similar reasons, is preferable to Lake Superior, and the Ægean dearer to the imagination than the Atlantic. After all, we have an idea that the human associations form the most attractive elements of the sublime and beautiful of objects; just as Thomson's poetry is a greater favorite with human nature than Shelley's. The farther you remove a thing from the human associations, the less the human imagination takes to it, the less it likes it, and the seldomer it recurs to it. We could here expatiate a little into metaphysics, and show the soundness of our opinions, from the nature of our moral perceptions. But we shall take some other time for this. We are not going to turn short upon the good-natured and unsuspecting reader in that manner. In fine, this faculty of the fancy is mixed up with what we consider most real in the world. The preacher calls the world a vain shadow; and the Berkeleyan philosopher calls it a huge delusion of the senses; and Shakspeare says: _ "the world is of such stuff As dreams are made of, and our little life also, that "nothing is but thinking makes it W. D. THE TRENCHARD PROPERTY. CHAPTER IV. [CONTINUED.] a noble career." as sentimental as this last one, you would have, I think, an unique collection." A FEW days after, Stephen Randolph "Poor Frank deserves sympathy and ensauntered to the mansion house, and find-couragement," she gently answered. "He ing the Colonel standing on the back piazza, has many admirable qualities, and if they giving directions to a servant, turned away were only supported by self-reliance and to the cheerful little sitting-room in which vigor of purpose, he could not fail to have he was most likely to find Lucy Montgomery. She was not there at the instant, and to while away the time, he picked up a book that lay upon the table. It was an album, and he opened instinctively at the page which contained the vigorous lines written by himself, at the request of the fair owner. These having been read over with great satisfaction, he turned to the succeeding effusion-a doleful ditty, whose chirography exhibited the professional skill of its author, the master of the village school. It began: "One sin, alas! I'm fain to confess Bitter envy, I mean, of this Book, Which lovely Lucy deigns to possess, Greeting it with so kindly a look." Randolph smiled complacently, as he compared this poetry with his own. On the next leaf came some really fine and expressive, as well as appropriate verses. He recognized the handwriting of his hated rival, and was chagrined at the excellence of the contribution. At the bottom he read : "Selected by Charles Middleton." "Oh! selected. Pshaw!" Some stanzas followed, which were original, with the signature "F. H.," unquestionably standing for Francis Herbert. They flowed off smoothly, and were by no means destitute of poetic merit; yet they were pervaded by a sadly plaintive tone, and testified but too clearly to the morbid sensitiveness of the writer. Randolph's lip curled with a slight sneer as he said: "Tis a pity, as you say, that not being a man, he wants sufficient sense even to pretend to be one. But don't let us talk about him any more; for if he were to know it, he would die of his blushes before he could again gasp out the 'How do you do?' which already nearly suffocates him in the utterance." She laid the volume away without reply, and taking her sewing, assumed her wonted seat by the fire. Stephen drew his chair close to hers, and after some indifferent remarks had been interchanged, started a new topic. "Cousin Lucy"-for, since the Colonel insisted upon his claim to receive the title of uncle from her, the nephew argued that the relationship must be shared by himself— "Cousin Lucy, the old gentleman has been scolding sharply, and tells me to reform. What must I do?" "Obey him dutifully, to be sure." "But he finds most fault with me for a matter of necessity; that is, mingling in the society of Delviton. Now there is but one way of escape from this calamity, and my uncle's consequent displeasure. Have you any further advice?" "Since you know the can say is, adopt it." proper course, all I But, Cousin Lucy, though this is a matter in which it is very easy and pleasant for me to resolve, it unfortunately happens that the coöperation of another person is Lucy entered unobserved, and glanced over his arm as he read them. "You see my Mr. Randolph album is filling up rapidly, "It is, indeed; and if the pieces were all necessary." "Well, sir, I trust your proposed colleague is not unreasonable." "Far from this being the case, I refer to e most kind and amiable person in the orld-the most considerate and self-sacriwing that you can imagine; yet I have tuse for doubt and fear." Lucy made no observation, and he conInued: "Were my now cheerless dwelling ut enlivened by the presence of another, hose home it might be for the reason that t was my home; one who would guide my wayward fancy by gentle counsel; who, by he daily exhibition of true loveliness of character, would teach me gradually in some degree to imitate what I could not but admire; who would be to me a friend closer than a brother, my companion never to be parted from; one to be loved, cherished, adored! Can you, dear Lucy, be such a one?" "Mr. Randolph, I cannot." His impassioned glance was turned full upon hers, which timidly sank beneath it. "Lucy! think that this is to me a subject vitally real and earnest. The time has passed when I could treat it with gayety or - trifling; now I leave jesting to others. I throw my whole soul at your feet. You will not, you cannot cast it back to bitterness and despair. You will not withdraw the hand which I seize as my hope of salvation!" He clasped her fair palm in his, so as to require some degree of force to extricate it. That force was exerted, however, and the hand withdrawn. Instantly he stood upon his feet; his frame shook with ungovernable passion; every vein of his countenance was swollen, and his flashing eye added intensity to the cruelty of the words which burst from his lips: "Stay then as you are, a sneaking, penniless dependent; yes! a sneaking, mercenary, hypocritical, fortune-hunting dependent! Stay where you are: rob me of my inheritance, and share it with your base confederate!" He rushed from the room and from the house, strode down the lawn, and then along the road to the village, at a rate which few could have equalled without absolutely running. It was not till he had reached the side of the tavern that he became sensible of the singularity of his motion, and to recover composure, relaxed into a very slow walk. Around the corner, and in front of the tavern, was quite a throng, composed of inhabitants of the village and others. They had been discussing the late remarkable night occurrences at Colonel Trenchard's. One of them observed: "I don't somehow believe that Jim can have done it. What's your mind, Jack?" Our old acquaintance, Chapman, the individual addressed, merely answered: "I don't know what to say about it." "For my part," remarked Skinner, the overseer, "I'm inclined to think that old Ichabod was nearer right than wiser folks, after all, and that the Colonel hung himself, when out of his head. Indeed, he talks wild about the business even yet. What do you think, Mr. Leach? He says you had a hand in it; that he heard your voice through the window." "That's queer enough," replied Sandy. "I know that I have a rough voice, but I should hardly think it would reach 'way from Davy Chapman's parlor to the house on the hill. If the old man's mind wanders in this way, I really must agree with you, Skinner, that he did the deed himself in a temporary fit of insanity. They say, too, that he was greatly vexed about the injury of his big tobacco crop." "But did the footprints on the roof and through the corn-field only exist in imagination?" This question was addressed to Skinner by a young man in a green frockcoat, whose fowling-piece and brace of pheasants showed that he had just returned from a hunting excursion. His chestnut hair curled about a face of almost feminine beauty, and his form, though exceedingly graceful, was slight, and had hardly attained the ordinary stature. "I saw them with my own eyes," said Skinner; "but then it must be considered that Mercer and I thought that they led from the piazza around to the front of the house, and the doctor struck upon the trai that led to Steve Randolph's sort of by guess or haphazard, without tracking ther plainly along the grass to where we started from." "And what reason could anybody have had for doing such a thing?" asked Sandy Leach. "Truly," said the youth in green, Francis Herbert, "I do not see what motive Jim could have had; but as to others, there is more ground for doubt." "Mr. Herbert, I don't see but he had as much reason as any nigger, and Colonel Trenchard says the man was certainly black." "But how easy and common it is for ruffians to make white black with candle smut, or a coal from the chimney corner!" "Do you then suspect Ran lolph ?" exclaimed Leach. "I have not said so; but if I were in his place, and innocent, I should be very restless till the mystery were cleared up." Stephen Randolph had overheard the latter part of this conversation ere he turned the corner, and stepping up quickly to Her bert, said in a harsh tone: "I did not understand your remark exactly repeat it, sir." Herbert drew back slightly, but answered with firmness, and in a tone which showed a natural resentment at the dictatorial manner of the interrogator: "I do not remember the words I used; but since you desire it, I will tell you my thought I fervently trust that you are innocent, but cannot help regretting that you do not show more zeal in searching out the culprit." "Lend me this a moment." This was spoken by Randolph to a bystander, from whose hand he snatched a horsewhip, with which he made several smart blows upon Herbert's shoulder, saying as he did so, "You are a meddling puppy! Take that, and learn to behave yourself." Herbert's face flushed to a deep crimson at the insult, and then sank to an almost deadly paleness. He raised his fowlingpiece, and, with an arm as rigid as if cast of bronze, held it pointed at the breast of Randolph; the hammer was thrown back, and his finger touched the trigger. Thus both parties stood without motion for a space of time that seemed an age to those around. Then Herbert lowered his gun undischarged. Randolph smiled contemptuously and turned upon his heel. The youth, maddened at the sight, clenched the weapon and again had it half raised; but again he let it sink, and withdrawing his right hand, smote his forehead in bitterness and walked away from the group. Herbert's agony cannot be described, and few indeed can imagine it in its whole extent; yet he must be less than human who is unable, in some degree, to understand how hard it is to bear a "wounded spirit." CHAPTER V. STEPHEN RANDOLPH's footsteps were yet audible along the hall, when Lucy burst into tears and went to throw herself into the arms of her mother. Mrs. Montgomery, surprised and grieved, clasped her head to her own sympathizing bosom and tenderly sought to know the cause of her agitation. As soon as her sobs allowed her utterance, she briefly related the conversation that had just taken place, and the harsh taunts which had been heaped upon her at its close; and then added, with her tears flowing afresh: "Mother! mother! let us leave this place instantly; not another hour let us stay." "But alas! my child, what home have we beside?" "Never mind, mother; let us trust to God to provide us a resting-place. Better, far better let us be tenants of the poor-house than remain here exposed to such horrible reproaches." "Dear Lucy, you know not what you say: here we must stay or starve." "Then if that is the alternative, oh! let us starve." "My child, be calm. What, after all, do the wild words of young Randolph concern us? It is not upon him we are living; no right of his is touched; our own consciences, as well as the candor of Mr. Trenchard, justify us against his passionate charge. Why then should it leave a sting?" "But, mother, it is dreadful to be subjected to the suspicion of such a thing. If we were away from here, the uncharitableness of Mr. Randolph himself could not soil our name with so much as a whisper. Let us pack up and go this very evening." "Pack and go? Who talks about going? Why, what's all this-crying? Lucy, what's the matter?" "Mr. Trenchard! Colonel! is this you?" As he left, some of the coarser of the "Mister? Colonel? Why in the name party gave utterance to a brutal laugh. In of the old Harry can't you learn to call me that discordant sound the loud cachinnation uncle? Surely your mother's my sister-inof the worthy Sandy Leach was most dis-law-and in reality too, I shall ever regard tinguishable. her. But what did you say about going?" "Why, sir, mother and I have come to the conclusion that it is best we should leave the mansion, bidding you good-bye with more gratitude in our hearts for your kindness than our lips can express. Her health, you know, sir, is not very good." "Well," said Trenchard, with a frown, "is this place sickly? just tell me that!" "In truth, sir, there are other circumstances which forbid us to trespass longer upon your liberality." 66 Come, come, I reckon I understand all about it. Stephen has been here; he left in a towering passion, I'm sure, by his savage walk; he's been saying something to you that he ought not. Confound the rascal! I wouldn't give a dozen like him for one hair of your head. So now be cheerful and like yourself, and I'll cane him if he so much as speaks to you again." "But really, uncle, I think it is best that we should leave." "Hush, Lucy! you shan't go; you shan't talk about it; you shan't so much as think about it: so be quiet. But whose step was that? Here, Ichabod! Ichabod!" "Well, Marser.” "Who was it, Ichabod, that came in at the front door just now?" "Frank, is it true, as I hear, that you have taken a horsewhipping in the village this morning?" The two ladies started and bent their eyes instantly upon the youth. He too was startled by the sudden interrogatory; the crimson current rushed at once to his cheeks, which just before seemed bloodless, and he felt his heart throbbing in his throat. It was some moments before he answered; when he did speak, it was in a tone wonderfully calm : Yes, sir, I have received some blows of a whip from Mr. Randolph." Trenchard replied: "Well, the Herberts used to be a spunky breed; they must be changed a great sight since. I suppose, however, you are going to challenge him; but that's a poor business. Have no duels, but settle your quarrels, you youngsters, when your blood's warm and there's no sin in it. It is a pity indeed that you let the minute slip. I don't see what other course you have left open for yourself. It's wrong, though, very wrong; but Stephen's not a fellow to back out and ask pardon it's a pity-pity-pity.” 'I agree with you, sir, that duels are sinful, and have no thought of challenging "Marser Frank. He went right up to Randolph to one." his room." "Not Skinner, then? Ah, well! when Mr. Skinner comes back from Delviton watch out for him and tell him I want to see him about the wheat to be sown in the new field. Do you understand?" แ "Yes, sir; an' I reckon that's him now: I heard the little gate slam what leads to his house." "Run then and head him; I'll go to the back piazza." Thus speaking, the old man trudged away, and was not seen again by Mrs. Montgomery and her daughter till an hour afterwards, when they met him at the dinner-table along with the other member of that family of four, Francis Herbert. The latter was very pale, and spoke less than usual during the meal. After the garniture of the table was removed, and the servant had left, they remained in their seats some moments according to custom, Colonel Trenchard glancing over the newspaper, and the others conversing. Presently he lifted up his eyes from the journal, and said in his blunt way: "The mischief you haven't! And what then will you do?" "What can I do?" "Yes, sure enough, what can you do now?" "What other course, sir, would you have had me pursue then? I was fearfully tempted: may I never again have such a struggle to endure. Thank God, I conquered." "Conquered!" echoed Trenchard. "I don't understand your story: whom did you conquer?" "Myself." "Oh, is that it? So you take pleasure in the recollection of your cowhiding?" All the youth's former agitation, so hardly repressed, returned. His evident suffering excited some compassion even in the stern breast of Trenchard. The ladies showed their deep sympathy without disguise upon their countenances, and Herbert, wretched as he was, drew comfort from the sight. Hastily dashing away a struggling tear, h said: "What, sir, would you have had me do "Had you do when a man struck yo |