with sentiments of gratified malice. But not so did old Mr. Curtis ride home: he had betrayed a secret entrusted to him. The staring handbills had been sent before him, and he saw them, wherever he stopped, posted at every corner, in every bar-room, at the turnpike-gate, at the watering-place on the side of the mountain, the trough of which Robert had hewed out himself, and conducted the little stream from a cold spring to it. Robert's good qualities, his kindness to him, his public spirit, his attention to the welfare of others, all were before him; and he rode into his own yard with a saddened spirit. His wife presented him a handbill, as soon as she saw him. "Who could have done this? How could the world have ascertained the birth of Robert Woods?" were the first exclamations he heard. "Did you tell it? Oh, Mr. Curtis!" bursting into tears. "Robert Woods has been your servant, your slave for nearly twenty years. He has increased your property to ten times its original value: he has laboured, in season and out of season, for your advantage. In the day-time, the drought has consumed him, and the frost by night.' He has watched by your bed-side, and has rescued you by his kindness from death; and

this is your return!"-Grief choked her utterance grief for the estrangement of the two she loved the best on earth.

The old man said nothing. It was not his custom to allow others to know his resolutions: he seemed satisfied with the one he had formed, and never after alluded to it.

Robert was returning from a political meeting, held in the extreme section of the county, where he had been called upon to give an exposition of the views and opinions he entertained upon the subjects then agitating the county. This he had done with great clearness and precision, but with no attempts at stump oratory or eloquent appeals. He showed those whose suffrages he solicited, that a change having taken place in the employments and means of wealth in the district, a correspondent change ought to take place in political measures. It was no tergiversation to accommodate one's views of the policy of the government to the changes that had taken place in the condition of the people. No general rules of policy could be laid down that would suit all generations; an enlightened and liberal mind would feel no hesitation, and experience no disgrace, in altering or modifying his views of national mea

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sures whenever the interests and happiness of the people demanded it. The new employments of the county had called in a new population, with new wants; the interests of that population required an entire change in the policy of the government. That change, the party now administering the general government were endeavouring to accomplish; and he felt it to be the interest, and therefore the duty of the district, to coincide with the more liberal and expanded views of the administration, and not adhere to the exploded policy of former generations.

No one ought to be accused of a change of politics, when that change was produced by a difference in the affairs of the world; and that politican could be called neither wise nor rational who would remain fixed in his attachments to the old plans, merely because his grandfather approved of them.

Such was the outline of Robert's argument; and it had its effect, in satisfying many that a change of their votes would not be a reproach to them.

on

He was riding homeward leisurely in a mild and beautiful summer afternoon, reflecting the speech he must make in his own village that

evening, when, at the well-known watering place, the illiberal placard stared him in the face with its broad capitals, announcing to the public that the self-styled liberal candidate, the young men's protegé, the poor-house candidate, was a degraded illegitimate, the child of some strolling har"lot; fit, very fit for a member of Congress, to represent the enlightened people of Clair county!

A pang like death shot through Robert's heart as he read it. "There is but one man knows that secret, can he have betrayed me?" was the first thought. His horse's head was turned, and in a few minutes, he was at Mr. Curtis' door. "Where is Mr. Curtis ?" said he to his wife, who only made her appearance, her eyes swollen with weeping. "He is sick," was the reply, "and on the bed. Oh! Robert, I little thought that he would have been the one to injure you."

Robert needed no more, but instantly mounting his horse, turned in the direction of the hotel of the springs, where he often boarded, in the hurry of business. His first resolve was, instantly, to dissolve the connection between himself and his partner; sell out his improvements, and remove to some distant part of the country. He found himself urging his horse to the top of his speed,

but was not sensible of it, until a stumble of the animal laid him and his master prostrate on the road. Robert remounted, and checked his speed.

"This is not a proper frame of mind," said Robert, aloud, in which to decide upon important steps. I am angry and disturbed. I will not go to the hotel, or any where, to meet those who may still farther excite me to do that which will be improper. To the saw-mill," he continued with bitterness, "to the saw-mill, you unfortunate illegitimate; to your old haunts when a town pauper; that is the fittest place for your present degradation, and the fittest place for reflection too," he continued in a calm voice.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE ELECTION.

It was summer, and the saw-mill not in use; and Robert traversed the scene of his youthful feelings and aspirations, with no one to witness