cause, reminded Alonzo that it was high time for them to return, and the motion being seconded by the latter, they bade their newly-made acquaintance "good afternoon," and rode away.

"Did you see that young lady, Leander, who sat in the adjoining room?" said Alonzo, directly after they had passed the gate.

"No, I did not. I thought that you were too busily engaged in talking politics with the old gentleman, to take any notice of any thing else."

"But I was not, though. I saw a lady, and if ever it was my fortune to gaze upon a woman half so beautiful in my life before, it was not with my natural eye. I have oftentimes imagined the appearances of paragons and Venuses, and old Morpheus has presented in visions of midnight many faultless and lovely images, but never saw I in reality such a soulcaptivating face as hers-no, never!"

"You must be dreaming now, or else laboring under the effects of some derangement of mind. Why, your words are like a poet's, and you look like a wild man, Lon."

"I do not know from what influence I am suffering, if so it pleases you to term my state of feelings; whether influenced by the wand of a cacodemon or some good spirit; but one thing I do know, that my heart has gone out of me, and that is the nearest I can come to a description of my sensations."

"Very queer and comical," dryly observed Leander; "I surmise that you have left a weak point unguarded, and thus suffered the little archer, Cupid, to attack and severely wound you.

"Well-a-day! perhaps the young lady that you saw is an heiress; if so, our misfortune in passing Alantic View may prove a very agreeable mishap in the end."

“I shall never marry a woman on account of her pecuniary worth, Leander; but I hope that we may never have cause to regret our pleasant ride."

"I concur with you heartily as regards your first assertion, Lon, for if there is any thing which I do detest, it is the manner in which the higher classes of society marry their children in England, that is, without leaving it discretionary with them to choose whom they please and whom they love. May the American people, if they do ever gain their independence, crush forever out of society this slavish custom."

By this time they had reached the residence of Mr. Bradford, by whom they were most cordially received.

This gentleman was the very picture of good humor and agreeableness. Seldom, indeed, was it that he ever indulged a serious mood or angry word, and he was often heard to say, that "contrariness came from the devil, and should never be practised by any one else."

Manual exercise had given him a full, robust face, and a rather unrefined appearance; yet it had not changed his round stomach or tarnished his good manners, which, though rusticated and unpolished, were of the best quality, and possessed with just enough civility to make one feel at home, without the unpleasant consciousness of being deceived.

Mrs. Bradford was a fit consort for her husband, and it seems that their daughter, according to a firmly

established natural as well as mathematical rule, was a prototype of both.

The business in question was expeditiously settled, and the young gentlemen were soon on the road again -one carelessly at ease, speculating at leisure upon the various incidents of the journey; the other, half-gay, half-sad, felt like one that had left behind him something of more than common value.

CHAPTER XX.

"LANGUAGE is too faint to show

His rage of love. It preys upon his life-
He pines, he sickens, he despairs, he dies!
His passions and his virtues lie confused
And mixed together in so wild a tumult,
That the whole man is quite disfigured in him.
Heaven! would one think 'twere possible for love
To make such ravage in a noble soul ?"-ADDISON.

"Oh! let me only breathe the air,

The blessed air that's breathed by thee,
And whether on its wings it bear
Healing or death, 'tis sweet to me!
There, drink my tears while yet they fall-
Would that my bosom's blood were balm,
And well thou know'st I'd shed it all

To give thy brow one minute's calm."-MOORE.

THE great struggle, known as the American Revolution, was begun.

The first precious blood in the cause of liberty had been spilt at Lexington, and even the hard-fought, sanguinary battle of Bunker Hill had been contested.

An indescribable commotion shook the entire colonies from north to south and from east to west. Two great parties came into active play; the one favoring the provincials, the other the royalists; and such was

the intense jealousy of the times, that in many instances those of the nearest kindred and best established friendship, proved to be the most inveterate enemies.

The tories in several parts of the country manifested a boldness worthy of a better cause; and though Virginia was among the first of her sisters to resent the wrongs of an overbearing monarch, yet that same spirit which on a former occasion had cried out, "Treason, treason!" was ready to devote all its means to the support of the royal prerogative; nor was an opportunity limited, for its constituents consisted of the most wealthy and influential citizens.

But while the aristocracy was bringing all its resources, in secret and in open daylight, to bear upon the young giant of liberty, the hardy yeomanry

"Left the ploughshare in the mould,
The flocks and herds without a fold,
The sickle in the unshorn grain,
The corn half-garnered on the plain;
And mustered, in their simple dress,

For wrongs to seek a stern redress:

To right those wrongs, come weal, come wo,
To perish or o'ercome their foe."

With an impetus that could not be withstood, and feeling the truthfulness of the sentence, "Dulce est pro patria mori," they rushed to the conflict, and waged a good warfare against the minions of oppression.

It was in this state of affairs that Lucus Scarborough, provoked to desperate anger because of his disappointment, and because Mr. Upshire would not coërce