to pay a visit to my dead parent. After looking upon it for a moment, I lost sight of it entirely, for it had retired.

"I cautiously examined under the corn crib," said Carle; "the rattling of the corn and the bursting of the planks made a dreadful uproar; with trembling and fear I advanced towards the black, mis-shapen figure of "Der Schwartz Kobalt," which, with glaring eyes, began to approach us; it grew larger and more terrific as it was nearer; at last it got within reach; I gave it a tremendous blow on the head with the axe; it uttered a loud groan and fell; and now, said Carle, what do you think it could have been." "I vow, now," said the Yankee maiden, "I can't even guess. "Well," said Van Fraunk, "it was Peelly Bettyjohn's pig, plack, pristly poar."

The conclusion of Carle's story of Der Schwartz Kobalt, was received by the Yankee maiden with a burst of merriment which emboldened our hero as doth the sound of the trumpet the gallant Cavalier. He at once began to ply the fair creature with awkward whispers of tenderness; and although they were listened to with bashful coyness, yet they seemed by no means disagreeable. He eventually began to calculate upon a certainty of his love being reciprocated, and impatiently anticipated the day, when he should afford to Miss Prudence Pennywinkle, the opportunity of becoming the vrouw of Carle Van Fraunk.

But how completely evanescent and illusory are all our prospects of happiness! How often is the cup of bliss, when it is filled to overflowing

and presented to our lips, snatched from us just as we are about to drain it to the dregs! And how often do we meet with opposition and disappointment, from sources so unexpected as to admit of no preparation against them! Carle was at last encountered by an opponent from an unknown quarter, against whom his wealth and influence seemed of no more avail than a ball of snow against a post.

About three miles from his residence, upon the banks of a mountain stream, there had latterly removed a roving wight from the waters of the mighty James. He had erected a neat mill of rock where he lived, which was supplied with a single pair of burr stones, and was driving on with all the impetus of a stout heart and a strong head of water. He was a broad-shouldered, well-set, square-built varlet, with an arm like the lever of his own packing chest; and to a jet black curly-head of hair, and a sparkling eye, were added a cheek and mouth which seemed always smiling with fun or mischief. He was a a bold, forward, laughter-loving chiel, who had mingled sufficiently with the wide world to possess superior advantages of behaviour and address over the common order with whom it was his chance to associate. His name was Fred or Fritz Fosdyck: however, from the materials which formed his property, he was more generally known by the term "Fosdyck of the Flint Mills."

As soon as he had elbowed himself into a pretty comfortable situation, and when grist had become abundant, he began to look around for some amusement or episode, wherewith to fill up the blanks of

his monotonous existence. In the first place, an acquaintance with his customers was necessary to be formed; but this was a matter of no difficulty to one who possessed that freedom of demeanour, that easy assurance for which he was so much distinguished. He took the grand rounds; talked to the older folks about preserving wheat from weevil, and gave their wives the best recipes for raising light pones to the girls, he related jokes, and sung snatches of inimitable humour. By this course, in a few weeks, the drollery and cleverness of the handsome miller, resounded throughout the neighbourhood.

He had observed with surprise and indignation, that our friend Carle was supreme director of affairs in the settlement; and with the arrogance of a genuine Tuckahoe, determined to break down the charm of superiority, which had so long guarded him. The opportunities of making the attempt, were frequent: matches for beef were shot with rifles almost every week in the neighbourhood; and at these exhibitions of marksmanship, Carle had generally stood paramount and unrivalled. But, after the arrival of the miller, our hero had the mortification to find his long boasted superiority with the rifle, completely foiled by the other's wonderful marksmanship. Did Carle pierce the black spot? The Miller would strike upon the inside of his ball. Did he break upon the centre? Fosdyck would drive it. The Dutchman at last began to conclude that his rival fired the silver ball of "Der Freyschutz," the wild hunter of Bohemia, of whom he had

so often heard his father speak; and he had the mortification of seeing the choice parts of the beef invariably bestowed upon this Knight of the Mill Peck.

But, this was not the only superiority in Fosdyck, which the luckless Carle was forced to acknowledge: at the frolics and junkettings which the neighbourhood so frequently afforded, the stranger from the James River had no competitor in ease and grace of dancing, and was considered the most perfect at the difficult step of Double Trouble Shuffle, that the inhabitants of the Valley had ever seen. The Miller of the Flint Mills seemed universally gifted: for, even at the Singing-School, he sung tenor like a Braham, and was classed in the same scale with Miss Prudence Pennywinkle, the Catalini of the Shenandoah. Carle saw that his star was beginning to wane; his hitherto staunch adherents and retainers seemed ready for a revolt, and the Tuckahoe meal-grinder was rapidly elevating to that authority, which he himself had so long maintained. But, he did not regard these innovations upon his privileges; his soul was absorbed in reflections upon the graces and beauty of the fair yankee, and love, in spite of occupying claimant laws, had kicked ambition out of his bosom.

It was upon a beautiful evening in autumn, (which I shall not describe, as it has been more ably effected by others than I could ever aspire to do,*) that Carle arrayed himself in the most splendid garb that

Note.-See Dr. Plagiary's Book upon Climates, p. 76, head, Indian Summer.

his wardrobe could afford; the uniform Hessian coat, the epaulettes, the massy buckles, blue clocked stockings, and all, as the story books have it, "very fine." He determined upon this evening to give a finishing touch to the tender affair then agitating between himself and the fair Damsel of the East. His frame dilated with the importance of his attempt, and his ideas expanded with the coming reward of his long tried and long enduring affection. Blissful phantasies occupied his waking imagination, and by the time he had reached the door of old Pennywinkle's dwelling, he had been blessed with a fond accomplishment of all his desires, and was sitting with the fair Prudence by his own fire-side, in the full capacity of her liege lord and husband.

Imagine then, his surprise, vexation and disappointment, when instead of obtaining an opportunity to impart reality to this vision, he discovered the confounded Miller from the Flint Mills, rigged out in the most courtier-like costume, and sitting by Miss Prudence, with the freedom and ease of a twelve months' acquaintance. All the sturdy jealousy of a Dutch lover was at once aroused in the bosom of our hero; he sat himself down with a sulky and offended air, in the corner, maintained a moody silence, and showed his extreme dislike to the Miller's intrusion, by sullen reserve. But this plan failed of success, and his complete development of chagrin only incited the Miller to some outrageous bursts of merriment at Carle's expense. He made divers sly allusions to "Sour Krout," and Van Fraunk's long queue, which were received by the