Legendary surmisings, assure us that late in the afternoon, as he was proceeding homewards, after a day of toil, he discovered footprints upon the snow, too much resembling the impression of a moccasin to be mistaken. His first inclination was, to return to the gate of the town and warn the sentinels of suspected danger. His further reflections, however, suggested the probability that some friendly Indians, a number of whom were in town, had been upon, or across the river; and, satisfied that the season was too inclement to admit of protracted journeying, eventually concluded that his suspicions were unfounded, and continued his walk homeward.

It was, however, impossible to rid his mind entirely of his first impression. He had seen similar footprints often, yet no similar thoughts had been suggested. For months the town had enjoyed a sense of comparative security. Knowing of no enemies nearer than Canada, and well assured of the effeminacy of the French commanders, they entertained no dread of a surprise. Indeed, no attack had been made, as they had been informed, upon the adjacent settlements, and what occasion had they for fear? Scouts had been sent out, and returned with favorable reports; small companies of Indians had come to town and been hospitably entertained; in fact, some were still with them, depending entirely upon citizen charity for the supply of their daily necessities. Judg ing from appearances, there were no grounds for suspicion, and Alexander Glen, forbore, like a prudent man, the expression of his unfounded surmisings.

As he approached his dwelling, he paused and looked back upon the town. An almost irresistible impulse impelled him even then to return, and he retraced his steps to the river side. The blue smoke curled up toward heaven, mingling with fleecy clouds, the hum of business had ceased, and his Dutch compeers and friends were quietly seated by their blazing firesides. If he returned, he had no reasons to offer for his impressions-though he half believed them to possess the force of presentiments-and if mistaken in their prompting, would expose himself to the jeers of his towns

men.

His fear of ridicule influenced his better judgment, and he quickly entered his own dwelling, seeking to forget his impressions in the amusements of the social circle.

Night closed in; the broad fireplace, piled by unstinted hands, presented its cheerful blaze, defying the cold threats of the winter wind which whispered in hollow tones through the leafless forest.

The bright glare within did not prevent Alexander Glen from discerning in the distance the brilliant hearth-stones of his neighbors, and a half reproachful feeling stole over him, as he reflected upon what might chance to befal them.

As the hour for retiring approached, the family drew nearer to each other, and joined in sacred worship. With a fervent earnestness of spirit did this disturbed man, beseech the divine interposi

tion in behalf of their defenceless settlement; a petition to which every heart present responded its fervent Amen!

One after another, the family retired to rest-until all, save Mr. Glen, were in the embraces of oblivious sleep. Still restless and wakeful, he continued to pace the floor, pausing every now and then to listen to the sounds without. So passed hour by hour, till midnight. At once upon the air came the war whoop, and the shrieks of the affrighted citizens. The torch of the incendiary had already lighted several dwellings, and as the broad glare shot heavenward, disclosed the shadows of the fiendish savages, dancing in hideous glee around the still quivering bodies of their slaughtered victims.

Transfixed with horror, it was long ere he collected his shattered energies, sufficiently to apprehend the danger of his family.

Hastily rousing them, scarcely allowing them time to prepare for exposure to an intensely cold atinosphere, he led them in safety to a cave near by, returning several times to procure articles of clothing to prevent them from perishing with cold. Having secured their safety, amid the entreaties of his wife and children, he left them to watch the progress of the sacking of the town, reproaching himself meanwhile, most bitterly for having resisted, what he now felt to be a spiritual presentiment of evil, vouchsafed him, to enable him to become, in point of fact, their savior.

Too late to aid, he could only lament his stupid folly. As the morning dawned, he was discovered and pursued. Entering the place where his family were secreted, and having already made preparations for defence, he was able to keep his foes at bay. While stoutly contending for the defence of his family, a messenger arrived from the French Commander, summoning him to surrender, with a tender of personal safety. Trusting to the sincerity of the proffer, he ventured to accompany the messenger to the town and to his great joy recognized in the commander, one whom he had formerly protected, when in the power of the Indians, and who, remembering his benefactor, repaid his obligations, by causing his family to be undisturbed, and also liberating many of his personal friends. Through a long life, Mr. Glen continued to reproach himself for his heedless disregard of the FOOT PRINTS IN THE

SNOW.

HOPE.

BY H. SANFORD.

Among the many romantic traditions which we find in the Ancient Mythology, none is more strikingly beautiful than that in which is related the compassion of Hope to mankind. War and pestilence had strode over the whole earth, while at their approach

all the genial goddesses had fled. Hope alone remained, and its brilliant rays streamed far into the future, opening to view the bright and sunny times soon to dispel the fearful darkness which brooded over the whole world. This fable, beautiful in itself, has also a moral which 'twere well that all should study.

The human mind is continually looking forward to future happiness. The dreamy past has fled like a tale that is told and then forgotten. Memory in vain seeks to retrace its associations, but Oblivion has covered them. The Present is the child's happiness. On his brow Time and Care have left no traces, and in the everpresent felicity he knows not, seeks not of the Future. But with advancing years the spirit grows more restless, till at length the man throws off the carelessness of childhood, and actuated by the same passions pursues the same shadows with his fellows. The present, whether spent in the giddy whirl of pleasure or in bitter misery, cannot so enthrall his mind as to make him insensible to future happiness, and in the hope of finding that happiness, he lives on unconscious that his happiness consists in hope.

We are so constituted by nature that none can be without hope of some kind, and as the most terrific state which the human mind can conceive of, utter hopelessness is represented as the final punishment. Even those on whom misery has wrought its utmost, hope for death as their relief, and though the hope may be illusive, still it enables them to endure the evils which oppress them.

That such is the power of hope, we know from observing the lives of those who have been conspicuous for their toil and sufferjug. We find that those to whom the world is indebted for the greatest discoveries in science and the arts have been almost universally the subjects of the greatest suffering. Scorn and insults have been heaped upon them, their schemes derided, their progress despised, but with perseverance they have endured all, and when at length they have met with success, they at least are willing to attribute this success to hope.

Fulton, to whom the world is indebted for his brilliant discoveries, is a striking example of the power of hope. Mocked and derided as a visionary and enthusiast, he persevered in his attempts. to benefit his fellow men. Regardless of the bitter sneer which every where met him, he devoted all his powers of mind and body to the accomplishment of his darling object. He succeeded, but had he not been stimulated in his attempts by the inspiration of Hope, we should still be without the bark which, braving winds and waves, bears us triumphantly to our destined port.

What was it that actuated Xavier, the martyr of the Catholic church to undergo the miseries which he voluntarily suffered. We find him first surrounded by all the gaiety and luxury of the French metropolis, expounding to a crowd of willing followers the doctrines of an atheistical philosophy. A few short months pass and the dissolute philosopher of Paris has become a soldier of the cross, and now we find him traversing the burning plains of India with

crucifix and breviary, proclaiming to the degraded heathen tidings of eternal life. Does the pestilence rage-but death has no terrors for him, and we see him in the foul lazarets bearing aid to the sick or soothing the dying in their last agony. Years roll on, years of constant toil and suffering, and he who has so often ministered to others in that trying hour must himself meet death. On the burning sands of the sea shore, amid the wild roar of the waves, he lays himself down to die. One triumphant exclamation, "In te Domine speravi, non confundar in æternum," and his spirit passed to its home. Those dying words explain the source of that wondrous strength which gave him the mastery over all earthly passions and feeling. He too had that hope which

There is something innate in the breast of every human being which tells him that beyond this transitory life there is another state of existence, eternal and unchangeable; that Man, endowed with an intellect which renders him superior to the whole animal creation, is not "the pilgrim of a day," born to run through the span of life and then thrust foully into the earth to be forgotten. To this innate feeling Hope lends its aid and the gloomy clouds which envelope that existence in mystery roll back and disclose to the eye the heaven of the Christian, the seat of immortal bliss.

Thus we see the influence of Hope in every stage of life. To the youth she presents visions of future glory and leagued with ambition, leads him to strive to benefit his fellows, that he may win for his name a place in the record of the truly great. To the man she presents still higher objects to attain and when Time, ever rolling on, has frosted his head and dimmed his eye, she bids him hope for that happiness which shall exist when Time shall be

no more.

THE PRESENT STATE OF EUROPE.

The American Literary Magazine is not a political journal. It professes not to interfere with, or express an opinion upon, either the measures or the men of the great parties in this Republic; neither does it presume to discuss the policy of foreign states. But the movements at present going forward in Europe are so remarkable they have, in spite of auguries, and the fore-cast shadows of coming events, taken the world so completely by surprise-and to the people of this country, whose privileges are to a great extent the object now aimed at in the old world, these movements are at once so interesting and so flattering that we cannot allow them to pass

without some notice, and some attempt to follow them out to such consequences as our knowledge of the nations among whom they are happening may enable us, with some degree of certainty, to conjecture and predict. We shall endeavor to write calmly and impartially, as persons who have nothing to gain or lose by those convulsions, except the satisfaction of seeing freedom triumphant and the condition of our fellow men improved.

Any one possessing even the most superficial acquaintance with France must have been aware, that ever since a few years after the call of Louis Philippe to the throne, she has been cherishing in her own bosom the seeds of revolution. The settlement of affairs in that country subsequently to the "three glorious days," was not satisfactory to a large and influential portion of the French people. The old royalist party was by no means extinguished, and even when all their attempts at restoration had proved abortive, they did not cease to hope. The Buonapartist party was stronger and more hopeful still. The glories of the Empire, and the fascinating power of Napoleon continued to linger as a bright vision before the eyes of the nation; and while a European war was deprecated by the wiser portion of it, and guarded against with all the talent and shrewdness of the king, there were multitudes that longed for an opportunity of chastising the allied powers, who were believed to have unjustly and despotically interfered with the affairs of France, and of proving, by an appeal to arms, that the victory of Waterloo was more a matter of chance or misfortune than owing to the superiority of the enemy in that memorable conflict. But of all the parties apparently acquiescing in the regime of Louis Philippe, although deeply discontented with it, the republican party was by far the most numerous and powerful. It is true that most of the leading men in France may have been honestly desirous of trying a constitutional monarchy as best suited to the circumstances of the country; yet the body of the people looked to republicanism as the only kind of government which could give and secure to them the rights and advantages of freemen, and many of the leaders regarded this as the dernier resort if their expectations from the Orleans dynasty should fail them. The gorgeous memory of the empire was less associated with a military despotism, than with the principles in which the great revolution originated. At the risk of advancing what may be termed a paradox, we think that the Buonapartists may fairly be described as imperial republicans. At all events they had no sympathy towards the existing systems of European sovereignty, with the exception. perhaps of that of England; and even their approbation of the British constitution was only partial. Hence we repeat that the party advocating the supremacy of the people in France was endowed with a strength and a vitality which it would have required the most consummate prudence, and the lapse of generations to reduce into secure quiescence, not to speak of its ultimate extinction. Louis Philippe knew this well; and with all the energy of his astute