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upon its summit, covered with time-worn and moth-eaten gilding. The hands are composed of some polished metal, kept bright by weekly scrubbings. The sarcophagus is made of an exceedingly fine grained wood, stained and varnished; but this may have been done by its later proprietors. The inner space is capacious enough to admit the body of an ordinary man; but when the door is closed, it would seem impossible that a child could be concealed within it. There it stands, in yonder corner, ticking away with imperturbable gravity, although it knows very well that it is the subject of my present lucubrations.
I have said that it was once the property of my grandfather. Good old man! He has been dead but a few years, and I have often seen the venerable time-piece in his own house. He had been a soldier in the war of the revolution, and always had some story to tell concerning his perilous rencontres; but I observed that he invariably stopped, as the bell of the old clock sounded the hour of nine; and although he were in the very centre of an interesting story, I was unable to get another word from his lips, until the ensuing evening, when he would take it up exactly where he left off.
I have hinted, too, that there was a story connected with the old clock. Fancy then, indulgent reader, that you are gazing into a snug little room, in a country farm-house. The old clock stands in one corner, and in the other a smooth and nicely-curtained bed. A bright fire is blazing on the hearth. A small stand is before it, on one side of which sits my venerable grandmother, spectacles on nose,' industriously knitting on a pair of woollen stockings. In the corner, is her white-haired partner, with a short pipe in his mouth, 'revelling in an atmosphere of his own creation.' Opposite to him, occupying an old oaken chair, sits — your humble servant. I was younger then than I am now; I believe I had not seen twelve summers; and the old man delighted to amuse his favorite grand-child with his tales of the war.
Well, imagine a long and unbroken silence. Nothing disturbs the monotony of the scene, save the occasional leap of my grandame's ball to the floor, or the upraised finger of the old man, as an unusually large volume of smoke issues from his lips. At length, “it was my cue to speak.'
Grandfather, tell me a story.' • What about, child ?'
Oh, about the war.' Silence again ensues. The old man seems meditating what event to relate. At this critical juncture, the old clock, having given its customary warning, lifteth up its hammer, and strikes. This seems to touch a chord in the old man's heart. His eye brightens, a smile illumines his withered cheek, the pipe goes to its rest, and he opens his lips.
I will tell you something about that old clock, boy; something that you
have never heard.' A preparatory hem; a stirring of the fire, and a snuffing of the candles by the matron, and he proceeds.
· Years, years ago, boy, even before your father was born, a little log cabin was the only dwelling within a great distance. Had you lived in those days, your eye would have rested upon nothing, on
either hand, save lofty forests, and the gray summits of towering hills. They alone remain as they were in the days of my boyhood. Where the village rears its splendid mansions, and gilded spires, there was then a dismal swamp, considered irreclaimable. A huge oak tree occupied the spot where the church now stands. All around were woods; and the cry of the panther, or the fierce howling of the hungry wolf, often resounded through the forest. The solitary log cabin stood upon this very spot. A little clearing surrounded it, and its inmates lived by the cultivation of a few acres, being forced by necessity to deny themselves the luxuries of life. At the time of which I am speaking, its only occupants were, a man who had seen some forty summers, his partner, and a little boy, their only offspring. He had emigrated to this country in consequence of some opposition to his matrimonial connexion; and instead of remaining upon the sea-board, had buried himself deep in the forest. Here his boy was born, and here he dwelt, until the earth was heaped upon his breast.
• A few years produced a change in the scene. The father and mother had grown old, and the boy had become a young man. He was strong and active, and possessed a disposition rather good than otherwise. I may say that he was handsome, having inherited a goodly share of his mother's beauty. By this time, a few other families had strayed into the forest, and a few more log houses had been erected. One of these families had emigrated from England, and, by reason of a family connexion, had built their cabin very near that of the first settler. It was composed of the same number, but the youngest of the trio was a daughter instead of a son.
She was very beautiful. Her form was faultless, and you might gaze upon her features for hours together. There was a spot upon her face very similar to the strawberry that you may see upon your grandmother's cheek.'
I turned to look at this phenomenon, and discovered that the needles of the old lady were fying more busily than ever.
There was a slight smile on her lips. My grandfather proceeded.
• As time flew on, the country around began to become more and more settled. The smoke from newly-risen cabins might be daily seen, curling and wreathing above the tallest trees. As the society increased, new ties were formed to bind it together. A building, larger than the ordinary dwellings, was erected, which served the purposes of a chapel, and public worship upon the Sabbath was conducted by the oldest settler. A school-house was also reared, and the most knowing man in the colony taught his school during the winter months. As the soil grew more and more subdued, and more leisure was allowed, the former customs of the settlers were gradually restored. Parties and merry-makings were held by the young maidens, and the young men often amused themselves by more athletic sports. In running, leaping, wrestling, and kindred feats of strength, the son of the old settler, whom I shall hereafter call Harry, that being the name given him by his companions, was always victor. He was in a short time looked upon as the smartest young fellow in the colony. On the other hand, the daughter of his neighbor, whom I shall call Mary, excelled the rest of her companions not only in personal beauty, but she was also the best dancer, and could make better butter and cheese, than any one around her; so that in a short time the hearts of all the
young men in the settlement were laid at her feet. She possessed one quality that sometimes created a great deal of trouble. She well knew her power over her followers, and was a little addicted to coquetry.'
Here my grandmother moved her chair, and rattled the half-burnt sticks upon the fire, by which means I lost a few sentences, nor could I persuade the old man to repeat them.
* Harry had long desired to obtain the first place in the affections of the belle, but she would n't even give him an opportunity to breathe forth his hopes; for, as soon as he verged upon the topic that occupied the first place in his heart, her natural vivacity, I suppose, would lead her to talk of the weather, or the crops, or the size of the moon, or something equally vague and general, though she might have repeated the same remark an hundred times before. But she well knew the game she was playing; for, if he manifested the least symptom of disaffection, a single look restored him to his former position at her feet. It was “too bad, it was ‘outrageous,' and he told her so — but all to no purpose. Yet he was her follower. He gallanted her home from all the quiltings and tea-parties, and was considered by his companions as her accepted lover, and soon to be her acknowledged husband. This, however, she had never promised
* At length, when Harry was about twenty-one, and Mary eighteen years of age, a series of depredations began to be committed upon the little colony, by the neighboring Indians. They were stimulated to this by the blood-thirsty French; and, in the hope of obtaining a trifling reward, scrupled not to tomahawk and scalp defenceless women and helpless children. In a few months, the number in the colony had so decreased, that but twenty able-bodied men remained. These were afterward accustomed to work together, going in a body to the field of one man, and completing his work, and then to that of another. They always carried their guns with them, to be ready in case of a surprise.
One day, while they were at work, the war-whoop of the savages was heard. Hastening to the settlement, they beheld the women and children rushing to and fro, pursued by the enemy. They drove on, and attacked the Indians in the rear, and pressed them so hotly, that they fled, but not until every one had affixed a bleeding scalp to his belt. Perceiving that they were still the majority, they soon returned; and then it was the turn of the colonists to fly. But the aim of the Indians was too sure; all but two or three, who had escaped by secret flight, were tomahawked. Harry, on the first onset, rushed to his home, hoping
that he might protect his parents, who were now old and infirm. The savages perceived him, as he entered the door, and pursued him close. They did not reach the house, however, until he had torn up the floor, and, thrusting his parents beneath it, prostrate upon the ground, carefully replaced the boards. Before they entered the door, he himself had vanished. At this moment, the shout of friends was heard ; and the Indians, without stopping to fire the buildings, betook themselves to flight.
Soon afterward, Mary, who had contrived to save herself and her parents from the general slaughter, rushed into the house of the old settler. She was the picture of despair. Not a soul was to be seen; and she broke forth into exclamations of the deepest grief. Wring
ing her hands, and beating her breast, she cried out: 'Harry! my dear Harry! where are you? Oh, they have killed him ! Would to God they had killed me, tou!'
. This was enough. The door of the old clock flew open; Harry jumped out; and with one bound, Mary was in his arms. Many were the kisses he imprinted on her lips. So absorbing was his happiDess, that Harry entirely forgot his parents, who began to grow tired of their imprisonment. These released, they went out in search of others who might have escaped. A few were found; but the most joyful sight, was a company of English soldiers, who had come to remain a few weeks at the settlement. Among them was a chaplain, and, even before the dead were buried, the two lovers were united in marriage. But the clock is striking nine, boy; it is time for you to go to bed.'
* But what was Harry's other name, grandfather ?
Please, Sir! - I shall sleep so much sounder to-night.' · Ask your grandmother, you young rogue !'
I glanced at her. A bright smile was on her withered countenance. She did not speak, but I knew that my aged grand-sire was the identical Harry, and his white-haired partner no other than the Mary he had loved.
J. L. c.
THERE, on yon eastern hill's uplifted brow,
My father's cot, o'erhung with leafy green,
Smiles as of yore, the last dear object seen
Its white walls gleam upon my wistful eye,
And the warm flushings of the sunset sky
With heaven's reflected glories. How intense
Grouped as when boyhood idly wandered thence;
No nunubness fallen on the gazer's sense!
Spirit of change! hast thou as gently dealı
With those dear forins that lovingly whilome
Did meet and mingle in that blessed home,
O'er my pale childhood with an angel's care?
The generous brother and the sister fair ?
Whose youth was cradled on the perilous sea,
In storm and battle, battling to be free,
And bore the green land to her jubilee,
BY ROBERT BURTS, ESQ., OF THE UNITED STATES' NAVY.
THERE once hung a lyre of such exquisite lay,
In a green sunny isle, in the midst of the seas,
To list to the numbers it flung on the breeze ;
With eager delight, he snatched the rich prize,
He placed it high up in the blue evening skies.
And sadly he wandered, in search of the lyre,
He saw it there glittering, in heavenly fire.
A soft, tender sirain came down on his ear,
Discoursing sweet music on high 10 the spheres.
A DISH OF TEA.
BY THE AUTHOR OF 'THE CIRCUS,' 'THE KU SHOW PROPERTY,' ETC.
DIABOLICAL Envy, and its brother Malice, with all their accursed company, sly whispering, cruel backbiting, spiteful detraction, and the rest of that hideous crew, which I hope are very falsely said to attend the tea-lable, being more apt to think they frequent those public places where virtuous women never come.'
This vindication, from the very clever preface to the letters of Lady Mary WORTLEY Montagu, will be confirmed by the wisdom of ages.' The dignity of the tea-table will be maintained, in spite of the insane ravings of the Graham. Let the reader call to mind the circles of his own tea-drinking acquaintance, who are confirmed in that practice, and seriously answer to his own heart, whether • diabolical envy and its brother malice, with all their accursed company, sly whispering, cruel backbiting, spiteful detraction, and the rest of that hideous crew,' are not very falsely said to attend the teatable.
I recollect a knot of antique sociables, of whom Miss Patty was the presiding deity, who held their assemblies all the year round at the Honeysuckle Cottage. Not that any formal invitation was given out, but there seemed to be a tacit understanding betwixt them that they should come together weekly, to enjoy each other's society, and to drink tea, “sociably.' Nor was there any grudging of hospitality on the part of my aunt, who was knit to these 'good souls' by bonds of the tenderest affection. And it can be with truth averred, that these pious women indulged only in virtuous discourses; and the only inroads which they made upon any thing, were upon my Aunt Patty's