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memorials I have gathered, too, on the western side of the fort, where Abercrombie lost one of the finest armies that ever debouched on American soil! Every American has read the story of that battle ; read of the pomp with which the sixteen hundred boats, bearing sixteen thousand men, set sail from the head of the Horicon, beating drums and waving banners, as though victory were already won; but they came not back victors; they found a grave in a soil that to this day shows their unburied bones. One may see at the head of the lake, right in front of the ruins of Fort William Henry, several of those gun-boats, or the skeletons of them rather, half buried in the shifting sand. And not far from the head of the lake is another spot of deep interest ; it is called • Bloody Pond,' and lies on the old road to Glens Falls. Here perished hundreds of the English and American soldiers who, surrendering to the French and Indians at the lake, under promise of protection, were set upon by the Indians, as soon as disarmed, and to escape massacre retreated as far as this pond, into which they threw themselves, and were drowned or shot. The lilies grow dark and rank there to this day, and some say that spirits walk abroad there at night moaning for vengeance on their murderers. Near this pond is a rock from which General Williams was shot by an Indian, while giving orders to his troop.

But the chief and exceeding glory of Horicon to the traveller I have not named. It is the hotel at the head of the lake ; Sherrill's Lake House.' The Editor of the KNICKERBOCKER needeth not information; he has been there, and knows; but, gentle or ferocious reader, dost thou know Sherrill's hotel ? — Sherrill's • Lake House,' in the village of Caldwell, in the vicinity of trout-brooks, at the head or the corner of the head of Horicon ? — Sherrill's Lake House, sloping the prettiest locust-covered lawn to the edge of the waters, and overlooking a pomp of lake, valleys and mountains such as exists nowhere else between California and Japan ? Ah! and has the reader walked those airy porticos and corridors ; has he couched in those ventilated rooms, that are rooms; has he crossed his lower limbs under those tables groaning with fish and fowl, fruit and jelly, milk and honey; those tables, freighted at morning, noon and night, and seemingly forever, with all that is luscious and juicy and delicate, so abundant, well-selected, well-seasoned and clean; the rich Mocha and Java, the sparkling souchong and hyson, the pastry tremulous with fatness, the smoking biscuits and cream, the reeking honey.comb, the lordly trout, in boil, broil, roast and fry? But why do I recount ? are they not all in the bill of-fare, palate-conquering? Ah, Louis GAYLORD, is not Sherrill's house a house ? Is not Sherrill too a host, his wife a hostess, and his fair, his only daughter, a hostessess? And from this point the glory of Horicon is ever to be discussed; this is the head and central point, from whence diverge all excursions, all thoughts, all ideas !

Ah, L. G. C.! it seems but yesterday I was there; and though the summer was gone, and the host was gone, and the hostessess too, and the rush of visitors also, still did I find only beauty and delight there. Nature remains when life and art are past; and so the lake

sorrow more.

smiled to me, and the mountains echoed that wonderful echo, which seems to run the whole circle of the hills as a scale of music, even as when I first saw and heard them; and the trout tasted as fresh, and the breath of the breeze was as balmy. And I climbed the hills and sailed the waters and cast my lines in pleasant places. In the calm and quiet of that Paradise among the mountains I laid me upon the grass, like Endymion, and dreamed that I knew toil nor care nor

The spirit of the time and place was enchantment; the felicity of forgetfulness; the absolution of the present from the past; the rise and expansion of the soul into serene and unimpassioned being. It was a lull of pain; an influx of pure joy. Why,' said I, shall I wander more ? why be hunted by blind ambition and empty desire, as Actæon by his dogs, when the earth is so loving here, and the music of the waters so sweet, and the bending-down of the golden sky so gracious ? I could live by the side of Horicon, as with a familiar spirit, forever; could abandon unrest and vanity, and cut the balance of earth entirely. But enough. We are booked for Sherrill's another season, if luckily death nor misfortune should step between. Then we shall rejoice together exceedingly, and ride in the yacht 'GAYLORD CLARK,' and discuss Burns with Captain Larrabee, and the big bottle with Captain Gale, and the ten-pins with Lieutenant Welch, and the sum-total of all our duties, dignities and enjoyments with the commander-in-chief, Sherrill. Then we shall pass judgment upon my judgment, both as to the fact and romance of Horicon; and I wager a basket of the best brand' that I shall win.

For the rest, 'see next number.' No more at present from

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I came into the prison-house, and saw
A robber stretched upon a couch of straw;
Well-formed and tall, though wan and poorly dressed,
His face, methought, more good than ill expressed ;
And, wrong or right, the thought arose within,
• Is this the son of circumstance or sin ?'
He leaned his head upon his fettered hand,
And gazed at something near him on the sand:
A spider gray had spread her meshes there,
And trapped a fly in the deceitful snare ;
Where, though it strove with efforts vain and long,
It only made captivity more strong.
The outlaw watched it with an anxious eye
Struggle and strain, and then in sadness die;
He saw the spider from her ambush crawl,
And seize the insect, emblem of his fall;
But ere she sucked the blood from heart and limb
The headsman's axe had done its worst on him!

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There is a glow like sunset on the tossing spray;
A glow that fades not with the ebbing light of day,

Nor when the morning dew is on the harvest sheaves ;
There is a gleam of crimson where the branches sway,

As though a ruby had been prisoned ʼmid the leaves,
Struggling in vain for freedom when the lithe bough heaves.

There is a glimmer deep within the wavy grass,
That lingers changeless, though the sunbeams come and pass ;

A glimmer as of golden foot-prints hidden there,
Half shadowed by the sumach and the sassafras,

And thick’ning night by night beneath the frosty air,
Till every knoll is crossed by pathways broad and fair.

Who wanders here in the still hour of midnight dreams,
Sprinkling these giant footsteps each with golden gleams?

Whose touch hath colored every o'erhanging bough,
And stayed the impetuous rush of hill-side streams?

Whose hand with rainbow-leaves hath crowned the mountain's brow,
And chilled at eve the brook that flows so brightly now?

What ploughshare hath been out this radiant miorn?
No sower's song, upon the sweet air clearly borne,

Doth tell what hope the frosted forest hath revealed,
Of laden wains and shining sheaves of ripened corn;

Yet are the green boughs furrowed like an April field,
And sown with brighter gold than ever harvests yield.

Have the fair dryads to their long-forsaken shades,
Untouched by ages past, with youth that never fades,

Returned once more, as in the sylvan days of old,
To haunt each stately oak amid these silent glades?

Is it in welcome every bough is veined with gold,
And banner-leaves float crimson over wood and wold?

Too long by Grecian fane their memory hath died,
Save in some dim tradition told at eventide,

Or poet's lay, revived from some old legend lost.
They are forgotten; and their pleasant haunts, beside
The curdling waters, and the pale leaves rudely tossed,
Shrink nightly at the muffled footsteps of the frost !

No trumpet hails thy coming from the fortress hills,
O silent wanderer by the wood and mountain rills !

Thou treadest noiselessly among the burnished sheaves ;
And dwellers 'mid the fields their autumn radiance fills,

Can trace thy pathway only by the brightening leaves,
And the vines crimsoned underneath the homestead eaves.

Yet are thy footsteps trodden by a shadowy host,
Who borne in still October eves from northern coast,

On every bough thy conquering banner flings,
Where morn by morn new victories thou may'st boast,

Till the bright turf is stained as with the blood of kings,
And brooks rush crimson from their maple-shadowed springs.

Still art thou guiltless: not a widow's wail,
No orphan's anguished cries thy footsteps hail ;

No blood-bought treasure crowns thy shadowy brow,
Type of that victory when crime and guilt shall fail,
And sorrow shall be done, and every knee shall bow,
And the last conqueror triumph as peacefully as thou.




Two young women, who lived in the same neighborhood and had been intimate acquaintances from their infancy, became married to a couple of young tradesmen, who were thriving and industrious. The young men were clerks in the same dry-goods shop in Broadway when they became first acquainted with their future wives and during a large portion of the courtship, hence no little intimacy was created between the young men and they strongly sympathized with each other in their respective matrimonial projects and both became well known to each other's intended.

As a preliminary to the marriages the young men had to acquire the means of a suitable support for their families, but as they possessed the confidence of their employer he assisted them with capital in the business to which they were educated and eventually one established himself in Philadelphia and the other in New York, and as soon as they felt pecuniarily able they married their respective favorites.

The families being thus separated enjoyed but few opportunities of social intercourse with each other. Even when the requirements of business brought occasionally Mr. Jenkins from Philadelphia to New-York, he was usually in too much. haste to lose much time in chatting with Mr. Jackson, though sometimes he would be accompanied to New York by his wife, when the two ladies would delight themselves in interchanging domestic intelligence, in recurring to events of their early lives, and in mutual inquiries about acquaintances who had removed to distant regions. Nor were wanting topics

* AUTHOR of a Treatise on Language, or the Relation which Words bear to Things,'' Religion in its Relation to the Present Life,' etc. etc.


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of more piquant interest, such as the conduct of their respective husbands; and while Mrs. Jenkins rejoiced in a husband who never denied her any thing, Mrs. Jackson had to confess, that though her husband provided well for the family and was a very indulgent father, yet he would have his own way. As a glaring instance in this particular, she adduced his unwillingness to accommodate her with a new house, though every person knew he was prosperous business and could better afford to build than many of his neighbors, who had made their families comfortable by a convenient residence up-town, where the air was pure for the children and good schools - could be obtained for their literary improvement and at a cheaper rate than in the lower parts of the city. As Mrs. Jackson uitered these revelations with unwonted fervor and fluency, a less discriminating person than her old friend Mrs. Jenkins could have discovered that the subject was dear to her heart, and that Mrs. Jackson was in this particular an abused woman, who deserved the sympathy of her

Mrs. Jenkins accordingly entered into her friend's feelings with the warmth of an old acquaintance and with the esprit du corps

of wife, and insisted that she would not live with a man who should treat her in such a manner.

The subject of this conversation almost engrossed the thoughts of Mrs. Jenkins, and when she returned to Philadelphia she viewed her own house with the new impressions produced in her by the ambitious aspirations of her friend, and the house speedlily lost nearly all its attractions. She and her husband had occupied it ever since their marriage, and as it was situated in the rear of the shop it was necessarily small and subject to many inconveniences. She could neither pass in nor out except through the shop, and this was peculiarly unpleasant to the female friends who occasionally visited her, to say nothing of the children, who were not permitted to play in the shop and were perpetually romping in her small parlor. The residence had been suitable enough to the condition of the parties when they commenced house-keeping; and its manifold inconveniences had de. veloped themselves so gradually, in the gradual increase of the family, that Mrs. Jenkins had been insensible to them till her attention was called that way by her last visit to New-York. She was now sur. prised that she had lived contentedly in such a place so long and was resolved that she would live there no longer, especially as she knew that her husband could as well afford to build a new house as Mr. Jackson. Thus impressed, she kept revolving the topic in her thoughts till she acquired a sufficient confidence in the correctness of her conclusions to feel the necessity of their speedy realization. Thus fortified, the next step was to bring her husband to the same opinion with herself. She knew he was fond of property and took pleasure in its accumulation, but what was the increase of property to her if she was not to enjoy the use of it! They might as well be without property, and indeed better, because if any necessity existed for living in a log.cabin, she would submit with pleasure; but to live inconveniently without any necessity therefor was intolerably tantalizing.

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