The old Indian looked down upon the upturned face before him, and with an expressive meaning in his eyes, indicated without speaking who it was that had raised his hand against Father Thomas.

He wanted to take hold of me, Lizzie, and I would n't let him,' growled Rude Keller with a tone of vindication; and it struck me at the time that there was also a mixture of fear in his manner. Time told me afterward that I was not mistaken.

'The bad white man lies. The servant of HIS GREAT SPIRIT never strikes. He would not even strike an Indian! Oga-ka-nin wants the bloody hand to go out of his wigwam. Stay here no longer, the door shall be opened, and the squaw, like a cat, can lead him in the dark! Look!' continued the Indian, as he pointed to a streaming ray of silvery light that fell across the floor; the moon makes the forest clear. Though your eyes are full of blood, Rude Keller, you can see!'

The girl listened to this command upon her companion with a look in which I thought I could trace some latent feeling of exultation; but the predominant sentiment, as exhibited upon her varying countenance, was that, as I have said before, of a wild and far-away character. She appeared almost to be walking amid these things, as if she was in a sleep, and only doing what she did in obedience to some vague force of mechanical necessity.

Before Rude Keller could reply to the command of the Indian to leave the cabin, the girl passed over to him and whispered something in his ear. The effect upon him was instantaneous, and his senses and powers seemed to return to him with all their former force. He sprang from the floor, and there was not one of us but felt for a moment that another desperate scene was to transpire. The apprehension was only momentary, for this strange being seemed no less under the spell of the girl's whisper than he was under that of the Indian. There was

no longer fury in his look, but a something else that filled his bloodstained eyes with terror; and he shuffled over the floor, leading the girl by the hand, and followed by the woman. But as they were passing by where the priest and I were sitting, the girl loosened her hand from the ruffian's grasp, and without stopping him indeed he evinced no disposition to tarry longer in the room she came up to my companion and in a low sweet voice said: Will Father meet me at the Canaseraga stepping-stones to-morrow?'

'I will be there, my child, before noon. If you are there before me, wait,' and he placed his hand upon her head, and in the subdued custom of his Church, he asked the GOD of the heavens to bless the child of the wilderness. And so she went back to the two who were waiting for her at the threshold. The man put out his hand as she approached him and said, 'Come, Lizzie, come home with me. You are my angel as well as God's;' and then, as if he was ashamed to have given way to a sentiment so humble or so tender before persons whom his own bad passions made him look upon as enemies, he added in a loud, rough voice: There is one more to deal with now than before! He shook his finger at old Sampson when he said this, and without another word from any one, he left the place.

Was it because my age made me more liable to sympathize with the sweet young creature who had gone away from us like a good thought, that I then ceased to think of any thing but her? I could not help it, for all the interest that a naturally ardent and speculative nature could experience, was excited within me, not within my heart, O gentle lady! reader now of this doubtful confession; but how could I avoid looking toward the priest, and drawing him away even from the inoffensive hearing of our poof ignorant friends, to ask him something more about her than I had already heard? In answer to my question, he said he knew nothing farther than that she was the daughter of Rude Keller, and that she was a good and gentle girl, and worshipped with a simple heart, and in all things acted as if she was some exiled child from a prince's hall; and that she bore the servitude her mother put upon her, a servitude of hard and heartless imposition, with a spirit of such patience that, said the priest smiling, her conduct would add another verse to Job's part of the Bible.'

And so that was all I could hear of her; but I made up little plans about her, not of marriage, gentle madam, or of wooing, gentle maiden; but of how, when I came into the full ownership by title-deeds of all my new lands and woods lying around about there, and scattered everywhere by hill-side and stream-side; how I would, out of my humble means that would be left me after I had paid for my purchase, buy her books that she could see poetry in print as well as upon the painted leaves of trees; and how I would win Rude Keller from his evils, and his wife from her devils; and that then I would send over to their cottage it should be a cottage then, thought I a grand piano or a meek guitar, and have my lawyer in the city send me some poor lone man whose cunning hand could touch the keys and strings of instruments; and have him tarry with me in the summer months, and send him day by day upon my brave horse across the running river and through the woods, to where my pet was living, to teach her how to make music in her home from other things than her own pure lips and wild young innocent tongue; and how the priest would help me in my scheme; nor did I think that he would say me, No, should I ask him to take the books in his portmanteau, and in his wanderings call by and leave them with her, and stop and teach her how to feel the force of history's great lessons and the bard's high mission. And thus I sat weaving my garland of pleasant blossoms, until my lonesome heart was cheerful in the odor that came from the bright flowers that, as I weaved them, I almost feared would fall from my garland to my feet.

It was old Sampson that wakened me from this dream of the maiden in the Indian's cabin, by asking me if I would not go back with him to the Hut. It was now after nine o'clock, but the distance was not great, and the moon was bright and the air was sweet, and I really longed to get back to the old tower and see old Mary again, and my horse; and I knew that she too wanted her black lord to come back to her lonely side; for she would be at least uneasy should he tarry away all night. She might perhaps be like other wives I know of, who sometimes make objections to late returns of supper-sipping husbands. And

when the priest joined old Sampson in his proposal, I readily consented, and then when I found that the priest would lead his horse through the forest and go on with me to the Hut, I could tarry no longer, but was glad to start at once.

Mike would stay all night with the Indian, and where there is a fire with plenty of wood in the corner, a negro will sleep, as seldom eider-downed kings repose. A cricket on the hearth is not more comfortable than an old negro gentleman, one of the old school, on a cricket by the hearth. I shook the Indian's hand, this Oga-ka-nin chief, and with a warm adieu to Mike, who promised soon to come down to the Hut and mend the sash in the turret-window, and fix up the gardenfence a little, in case I bought, we left the place and struck into the woods. And thus was my first day passed upon the land I longed for; and when we got fairly among the pines and oaks, and we stirred the crisp leaves that had fallen from their branches, while the priest hummed some hymn to the Virgin from the vesper service of his Church,

my mind forgot the crashing tree that had fallen among the lawless gang, the bloody face that had glared upon us in the cabin, the furious tiger-cat in petticoats that spattered by the fallen bravo's side, and only saw the long locks of the young woman who had kissed the hand that was helping her to heaven. And thus we wandered on, passing at the crossing by the old mill- the Canaseraga stepping-stones it was, where Lizzie had made her rendezvous for the morrow-by the meadows and the white rock that shimmered in the moon, until we reached the Hut. We approached it from the river side, and I looked up at it as it stood between the moon and us. It was a rare old turret Hut of rare device,' and frost and moon-beam made it glitter like a jewelled pile. See it, my reader, as it stood before us in all its pride of log and light; and we entered by the door, and by my side entered the priest and Sampson, and the Past and the Present; and the Present took the form of the poor Lizzie, then perhaps wandering toward her gloomy home with the man she called her father and the woman who did not look as if she could be her mother. But Lizzie, though she was the Present, did not enter the old Hut's door as its young master's bride; no, there was no thought of that. And now I have finished the First Book of this Story, and I pray you all to wish me well in what I have to write of it hereafter: and with your good leave, I will now call Sampson to my room, to read to him, as I always do, the manuscript from which these sheets are printed. Good night to all, till warm July shall come.

End of First Book of the Hut.

TARDY SPRING.

STERN Winter quakes upon his tottering throne,
Yet heads his legions from the stormy north:
And Spring, the uncrowned princess, seeks her own;
The loyal willow hangs his banner forth,
First, 'mid the frowning ranks of haughty peers;
While, by the brooklet, creeping all about,
The cottage children, roaming, with their shears
Cut cress and dandelion — to help out
Their simple meal. Lo! thundering on his path
The usurper-king prolongs his tyrant reign:
Yet timid FLORA, trembling at his wrath,

Still slow and sure, her rightful rule doth gain:
But when rich music stirs the nested tree,
And insect-life exults shall I be there to see?

Hartford, (Conn.,) April 17, 1857.

L. F. 8.

A ΜΟΝΤΗ

WITH THE BLUE NOSES.

BY FREDERICO 8. COZZENS.

The other side of the Harbor - A Foraging Party and Disappointment Twilight at Louisburgh- Long Days and Early Mornings A Visit and View of an Interior A Shark Story Picton inquires about a Measure - Hospitality and the Two Brave Boys-Proposals for a trip overland to Sydney.

6

To make use of a quaint but expressive phrase, it is patent enough,' that travellers are likely to consume more time in reaching a place than they are apt to bestow upon it when found. And, I am ashamed to say, that even Louisburgh was not an exception to this general truth ; although perhaps certain reasons might be offered in extenuation for our somewhat speedy departure from the precincts of the old town. First, then, the uncertainty of a sailing vessel, for the 'Balaklava' was coquettishly courting any and every wind that could carry her out of our harbor of refuge. Next, the desire of seeing more of the surroundings of the ancient fortress the batteries on the opposite side, the new town; the light-house, and the wild picturesque coast. Added to these was the wish of Captain Capstan to shift his anchorage, to get on the side where he would have a better opening toward the ocean, when the wind came on to blow,' to say nothing of being in the neighborhood of his old friends, whose cottages dotted the green hill-sides across the bay, as you looked over the bows of the jolly little schooner. And finally there might have been other inducements such as the hope of getting a few pounds of white sugar, a drawing or so of respectable tea, a pitcher of milk, (delicious, lacteous fluid, for which we had yearned so often amid the briny waves ;) and last but not least, a hamper of bluenosed potatoes. So, when the shades of evening were gathering grandly and gloomily around the dismantled parapets, and Louisburgh lay in all the lovely and romantic light of a red and stormy sun-set, it seemed but fitting that the cable-chain of the anchor should clank to the windlass, and the die-away song of the mariner should resound above the calm waters, and the canvas stretch toward the land opposite, that seemed so tempting and delectable. And presently the Balaklava' bore away across the red and purple harbor for the new town, leaving in her wake the ruined walls of Louisburgh that rose up higher the further we sailed from them. Now I wish I had staid there longer.

The schooner dropped anchor inside the little cove, which the reader will see by referring to the map, and the old battles of the years '45 and '58, were presently forgotten in the new aspects that were presented. The anchor was scarcely dropped fairly, before the yawl-boat was under the stroke of the oars, and Picton and I on the way for the store-house, the general, particular, and only exchange in the whole district of