No land can be more fertile in subjects for romance, than our own New England. For its scenery as lovely and varied as the imagination can desire-its primitive race, a strange anomaly in the history of mankind, and those heart-rending scenes in which the lovely and delicate, as well as the strong and daring, were obliged to participate, form a rare combination of material for tales of thrilling interest.

Every settlement of the Puritans was established by blood, and every new advance was consecrated by the sacrifice of the lovely or gifted. Every village was blessed with a house of worship, but this was provided with weapons against the dark spirits of this world, as well of that to come. Even nature scemed to conspire the destruction of the wanderers, for the cold blasts of winter chilled in death many a delicate form, and the pestilence wrested away the life of the vigorous. They lived in a state of equal fear and danger, for the boasted generosity of the Indian, compared with his cunning and cruelty and vindictive hate, was but the brightness of one star amid the blackness of midnight. All could tell from bitter experience, the inhumanity of their relentless foe-all had seen the uplifted tomahawk, and shuddered at the fearful war-whoop. There was scarcely a family which did. not mourn the loss of a father or brother, or perhaps even of an innocent prattling child or lovely daughter, for the beauty and gentleness that would thrill the heart, and disarm the hands of an ordinary foe, seemed to have no other effect on the savage than to stimulate his natural taste for blood.

Strange indeed have been the sights that silent rocks and forests alone have witnessed; and could the vail of mystery be drawn aside, which hangs over the fate of many a delicate being borne off to the depths of New England wilds, the startling adventures and heartrending scenes disclosed, would seem more improbable than any which fiction has ever dared to portray.

The sketch that we now lay before our readers, will give but a faint idea of those terrible times "which tried men's souls," yet our object

will be attained, if it awaken a new sympathy for the trials and failings of the Puritan fathers.

The place which is the scene of our story, was a quiet spot shaded by the forest oak, and blessed with a fertility unusual for New England soil. The neighboring landscape was both wild and beautiful. A slight range of mountains separated into two branches at the northern limit of the valley, and swept completely around it in a broken but graceful curve. A quiet lake near the centre of the dale, mirrored the mountain peaks that in some places shot up in fantastic forms, dark with overhanging vines, and that again arose from the edge of the water, a bare and purple precipice.

Viewed from the highest hills in summer, when the white-washed cottages of the new settlers peered forth from the dense waving foliage, the valley seemed like a ruffled lake dotted with foam, but when the frosts of Autumn tinged alike the leaves of the maple and oak, mingling red and orange with the darker shades of the evergreen, it seemed like the same lake reflecting the sunset clouds, or an expanse of rainbows. The traveler might pass by and leave this lovely spot unnoticed, but if his eye were once caught, his steps would certainly linger. It was truly such a place as the poet or painter would seek, when wishing to indulge in the reveries of fancy. For

"There is beauty in the rounded woods, dank with heavy foliage,
In laughing fields, and dinted hills, the valley and its lake."

They who daily looked out upon this charming spot, could certainly appreciate all its romance, for their tastes had been formed amid scenes of loveliness, but the bright placid lake, which reflected the pure sky and the lovely landscape, sometimes mirrored the red watchfires and dusky forms of the Indian, and those hills which seemed to be made for kindly guardians, echoed often the dread notes of the war whoop.

Even in a calm summer evening they wandered not in the forests, but sought a place of security from the unerring arrow, and when the blasts of Autumn swept with a shrill, whistling sound through the mountain passes, cheeks would grow pale, and hands would tremble from fear that it was mingled with the Indian's fearful death-cry.

Yet, there was a few who would brave these dangers and forget awhile their cares, in rambling among the hills, and admiring the lavish beauty of nature. And when at such times, thinking upon the groves of "merry England," they heaved a sigh for its pleasant scenes, remembrance that the dark blue ocean rolled between them and tyranny, would supplant it with a grateful smile.

Among these noble spirits, was one whose exalted qualities of head and heart made him first and chief. A person of rank and influence in his native land, he keenly felt the privations of his forest-home, but with the fortitude of a great mind, manfully bore his own troubles, while he sought to inspirit the desponding, and to avert the dangers which lowered around the infant colony.

A lovely daughter had accompanied him-the fairest of the fragile flowers transplanted in this wilderness. In England the centre of admiring friends, her heart had clung with the greatest fondness to her only parent. In America, with none but him to love, the tendrils of affection were inwoven with his every look and action. They two were reconciled to their life of want and danger, for with themselves, they carried the elements of home and happiness. And as at evening they conversed together, and dwelt upon the pleasures of memory, or as they found new delights in the stores of the cultivated mind and buoyant imagination, the sigh of regret would be banished, and the toils of the day forgotten. If a shade rested on the brow of her father, Alice had but to bring her harp-one of the few mementoes of her English home-and the evil spirit was charmed away.

Often in affectionate communion they would wander into the depths of the forest, unheeding distance and danger, led on by some new beauty of the landscape, or lingering over some natural curiosity, until an indication of the presence of their wily foe would recall their thoughts, and make them hastily retrace their steps. These seasons were, indeed, but bright spots amid much that was darkness and gloom, but the arduous labors and loneliness of the day were borne with a lighter heart, because evening brought a compensation for all, in the sweet interchange of affectionate feeling.

The father was a man of singular strength and daring. He had an eye from which even the Indian would shrink, and often he had awed down the storm of wrath which kindness could not quell. Fear of his vengeance, restrained the savages who daily visited the colony, from many a theft and deed of cruelty, and sometimes his threatening voice and determined mien had struck a panic in their hostile parties.

Alice had much of the courage and spirit of her father, but it was blended with winning gentleness and love. If her father was the guardian genius of the colony, she was its ministering angel. Her light footstep and joyous smile proved as genial as sunlight, to many of those delicate spirits which drooped and faded in this wilderness, and her merry laugh broke upon the soul like long forgotten music, cheering up the child of suffering by its sweetness. As she tripped along the winding paths, each one she met invoked a blessing on her head, for all had felt the sunshine of her smiles, and been delighted with those little plans of happiness by which she loved to surprise her friends. Even the savage was not forgotten in her bounty. Often when he came sick and hungry, she had kindly cared for him, and when taken in some fault, had averted from him the wrath of her parent. And sometimes the soul of the Indian would really seem to be thrilled by her beauty and kindness, though the chord that was struck, was too coarse to vibrate long, or to awaken in the heart the sweet music of affection.

Alice had often pleaded with her father to overlook many of the faults of their savage visitants, and to try the conciliating power of love, but he brought from his native land exalted ideas of justice, and would no more tolerate wrong in the Indian, than in one of his