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you not, when he has discovered your heart is not with him, as soon he must, he will not reproach you for concealing the truth, ere you had wrecked your happiness as well as his."

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Reproach, ah no! he is all gentleness, too good, too gentle for me. Theodore! my early friend, must I desert you!" Elizabeth was no arguer, and before they reached her father's house, Edward had convinced her, she was acting most rightly and justly, when she consented to write to Theodore of her changed feelings, and accept of Graham in his place. Edward bade Elizabeth adieu at the gate, and left her. As she approached the house, she perceived her father and mother, sitting together on the piazza, a sense of wrong came over her, and could she have avoided them, she willingly would, but there was no other entrance open, so collecting all her composure, she ran up the steps

"Who came home with you Lizzy," said her father.

Elizabeth answered in a low voice, "Mr. Graham," and was going on.

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Stop my child," he said, "I have something to say to you-Sit down a moment."

Dreading what was coming, Elizabeth sank down in a dark corner, and prepared for the worst, "what I wanted to say was," said Farmer Chapman, "I don't think it quite right in you, who are engaged to Theodore Howard, to be junketting about with this young stranger so much-I know he is very clever, and very likely, and it is well enough to walk with him sometimes, but to be always about with him, sets folks a talking, and I reckon, if Theodore was to hear it, he would think very hard of you. It is very nateral for you to be pleased with his company-and its very nateral for him to select my child out of all the gals in the town, but you ought not to permit so much attention from him, as you are all but the wife of Theodore Howard." Mr. Chapman was going on, with what he thought a necessary parental check, when he was interrupted by the deep sobs of his daughter. Her mother kindly threw her arms around her and drew her to her bosom, while her father exclaimed, "Why Lizzy what's the matter? I did not mean to hart your feelings I have said too much perhaps, but I know all young gals will be giddy."

"Oh! father! it is too late," cried the unhappy Elizabeth-" I must tell all-my engagement with Theodore is broken, and I have promised to marry Mr. Graham." Her mother withdrew her arms from her with a groan.

"Elizabeth," said Mr. Chapman, in a severe tone. "It cannot be--I never can believe a child of mine can be so base; what! break your engagement with Naomi Howard's son-give up one who has loved you so long, for an acquaintance of a few

months!"

"I cannot help it," sobbed Elizabeth, "I love Theodore no longer."

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"You know the affections can't be controlled. am sorry for Theodore's disappointment, and I am sorry for the blame Lizzy will get; but what we can't cure we must endure, you know, so we must make the best of it. He is a young man, who has been well educated, his connexions are very genteel, and he is very rich."

"You are all alike-for a little money you would break the hearts of all your friends. I declare I have a great mind to pull up stakes, and go live with the Indians, they would behave much better."

"Well, but husband, this Mr. Graham is so much above, what we had a right to expect for our daughter."

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"I don't care if he was General Washington himself, and General Stark to boot, she sha'nt have him. I will not give my consent to such scandalous parjury." So saying, the honest Vermonter stumped into the house, and marched off to bed. mother and daughter held a long and interesting conversation, the result of which was, they had entered into a holy alliance to resist the old man, a l'outrance, and do their very best to promote the match between Elizabeth and Edward.

When Graham called the next morning he found Mrs. Chapman and Elizabeth alone. Mr. Chapman went out early to work in the fields, leaving word, "if that pranking Yorker came, he should be sent home with a flea in his ear." Mrs. Chapman, had been very much pleased with the elegance of Edward's dress and manner, and now in anticipation of Elizabeth's brilliant prospects, she entered readily into all their plans, and promised to soften her husband in their favor. This she found no easy task. But at last, as the poor man said, continual dropping wore away the stone, and weary of a long system of little torments, and startled by hints that his obstinacy would lead to a clandestine marriage, or perhaps really alarmed by his daughter's miserable looks, his resistance became gradually less and less, until he finally intimated, that although he could not give his consent he would not oppose it, and Elizabeth espoused the wanderer Edward Graham.

One fine afternoon about three weeks after the wedding, the happy couple sallied out for a stroll. Mrs. Chapman was sitting in the parlor with Mahitable Peabody, and Mercey Wayland, the bridemaid, who had come from Montpelier to attend the marriage, when the latter suddenly exclaimed, "Dear me! what a spruce young man is riding up the road. I have not seen such a fine young gentleman this long while. Gracious! I declare he is coming here-I must give' my curls a look." saying, she ran to the glass, to re-arrange the wild blue lupins, she had placed in her light tresses. Surprised to hear no observations from her companions, she turned around, and saw them gazing on each other in evident consternation.

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"Well, I'll be darned," exclaimed her father, not coming here, sure-Is he Mabitable." At length Mrs. Chapman spoke-" Theodore stamping with his foot, until he made the piazza shake. "If I ever know'd fickleness equal to this, "My gracious! yes-he has tied his horse to the what do you know of this man; he may rails. Now he springs over, and now comes smibond-you'll kill Theodore-I am ashamed of lingly up to the house-he cannot have heard of her marriage-what is to be done!"

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"Dear Hezekiah!" interposed Mrs. Chapman, "I am sure, I cannot tell," said Mrs. Chapman

in a disconsolate tone. It will break the poor boy's on him, he felt, but it was some moments ere he heart."

The footsteps of the unconscious Theodore were now ascending the steps-he opened the door, came in, looked gaily round the room, and then advancing to Mrs. Chapman, shook her heartily by the hand.

"Where is Elizabeth," he asked eagerly, while a smile of happiness played over his handsome features.

"The dear girl is well I hope." There was si lence for a few moments. Mrs. Chapman was too much overcome to speak-she saw their letters has passed him on the road, that Elizabeth's marriage was unknown to him, and feared the effect of too sudden announcement of the mournful truth. At length Mahitable answered faintly, "Elizabeth is well."

"But where is she," demanded the impatient lover. "Your looks tell me there is something dreadful to relate-speak at once, be she ill or dead tell me, and I will try to bear it firmly."

Mercey, who had sat in amazement at the scene, for she knew not who Theodore was, seeing them turn away, as if loth to answer the poor young man, said hastily-"Mahitable, why do you not speak; you know Elizabeth is well, she has gone out to walk with her husband."

Young Howard had turned to her with a flush of joy, when she assured him, his Elizabeth was well, but when the last unexpected, and overwhelming sentence met his ear, he seemed by some horrid enchantment, turned from a being glowing with health and love, to a cold and motionless, and senseless statue. He uttered no exclamation-he did not fall, but stood with his fixed eyes glaring on poor Mercey, until she turned from him, with a shudder of afright.

"Oh! what have I done to him!-What is the matter with him," she screamed. "He is struck dead, go to him."

At last the unhappy young man spoke-but with a voice so changed, that all in the room shuddered when its death-like tones came o'er their ear. "Is it true," he said,-"has Elizabeth married anoth

er!"

comprehended, that Elizabeth, his own sweet Elizabeth no longer loved him. She had abandoned him-she was married to another. How could one so young and so confiding, bear this weight of woe. His arms were tost wildly to Heaven, and he walked distractedly about the arbor-that arbor where he had often sat so happily with his lost love, oh, the misery of that hour, "The heart knoweth its own bitterness." Can years of happiness compensate for one moment of such exquisite anguish. In vain he struggles-despair has her iron grasp on him, and he cannot escape the burden which is bowing him to the earth.

Voices were now heard in the garden-" Where are you going my sweet Elizabeth? The dew is heavy, you had better return to the house."

"I am only going into the arbor for a book," said Elizabeth-"Go in dear husband, I will soon follow."

She entered the bower gaily, and the first object which met her eye, was the injured Theodore, leaning opposite to her, his arms folded, and his head bowed on his breast. She stood gazing fearfully on him, almost hoping it was some dreadful apparition which would suddenly disappear from her eyes. He raised his head slowly, fixed his eyes gloomily on her, and said, in a stern sad voice, Why do you come here, heartless one! Would you see the effect of your treachery on your victim. Would you enjoy the agony of the heart you have crushed and trampled on; look at me—are you satisfied-now leave me. Why do you not leave me alone in my misery."

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The sorrowing Elizabeth did not move-overcome with grief, she burst into tears, and turning from him covered her face with her hands. At the sight of the distress of her he still fondly loved, all his bitterness left him. Theodore sprang towards her, and throwing his arms around her, exclaimed, Forgive me dearest Elizabeth-do forgive me. I have cruelly wounded your feelings I know-but scarcely am conscious what I say. You who know too well, with what devotedness I loved you, how my every thought turned to you, may imagine the misery your desertion gives me,-oh, Elizabeth!" he exclaimed leaving her, and sinking on a bench. "I did love you-deeply love you, and it is so hard to meet with this return. You have destroyed me, all the plans I have been building, all the hopes of future happiness, which cheered

The sobs of Mrs. Chapman was the only answer he received. She had loved Theodore as a son, and the sight of the misery which she had in a measure brought to his youthful heart, nearly overpow ered her. Theodore turned to go towards her, but he staggered, and fell violently back against theme in my toils for so long a time, are crushed in

wall.

"Oh! my own unhappy boy," cried Mrs. Chapman, running towards him. "This has killed him, I know it has."

"Leave me," he said, gently pushing her away, "I am but a poor weak boy. I shall be better soon. I will go out a while."

Mrs. Chapman begged him to stay, or let her go with him-he answered not, but pressing both hands over his eyes, as if to shut out the world, rushed hastily through the house and garden, and plunged into a grape vine bower, at the end of the walk. Stunned and blinded by this sudden stroke of wretchedness, he vainly endeavored to collect his ideas, and compose himself enough to think that something dreadful and unexpected had fallen]

one moment. But do not weep so-I cannot bear to see you in tears. This has upset me, but I shall be stronger soon, Elizabeth!" he said, as he gazed on her, while his deep blue eyes expressed the greatest anguish, “I now look on you for the last time-I must leave you forever. Is this then, that rapturous meeting 1 so long anticipated,—ah. little did I imagine, it would be, only to bid you an eternal adieu."

He was rushing from the arbor, when Elizabeth cried- Theodore, leave me not thus; will you not forgive me; oh! tell me you forgive me, or I cannot be happy." He turned-pressed her to his heart-passed rapidly through the garden, sprang on his horse, and was soon at his mother's door.

Mrs. Howard, who had not seen her son for a

year, was delighted when she found he had re-best and gentlest boy in all Varmont-and to think turned, and throwing down her knitting she ran out that proud girl should treat you so, is more than I crying, "my dear Theodore! who'd a thought it! can bear." why sure it can't be you-come in, come in dear boy."

Theodore threw his arms around his mother, kissed her, then sat down with his head leaning on his hand without speaking.

Mrs. Howard knew her son had heard of the marriage of Elizabeth, and sitting down mournfully opposite him, she gazed on him in tearful silence. At length she said-"So I see you have heard all about Elizabeth Chapman's marriage. But don't grieve about it, come, it a'nt manly to be down-hearted about a faithless girl."

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Mother," said Theodore mildly-"you must have patience with me for a little while. I am a weak boy, I know, and this will have its way; it was a sudden blow mother, and sometimes I think it has broken my heart."

"No more of that, dear mother-if you love me, never mention her to me again. I must try to forget her-yes," he added, pressing his hands over his eyes, "my only chance of happiness must be, in banishing from my heart, all those sweet thoughts and feelings, which have filled it so long. Those airy castles, those lonely visions, it has been my sole delight to indulge in, must fade before the sadness of stern reality. My peace now depends on forgetting my early days-in erasing from my memory all those years of my youth-for they have been spent with her. And Elizabeth! must I forget her, the remembrance of whom has been alas my only joy. But enough of this-I have a task before me, I must walk, or ride-do any thing but think." Poor Theodore found the task he had set himself greater than he could perform. His had not been an active life, he had lived in his study, or in the woods alone, or in rambling with, or thinking of Elizabeth. Her he had loved, with an intenseness and devotedness few feel. The severe shock he had received, he could not struggle with, but all "Ah mother," said Theodore, kissing the tears strength and firmness seemed fled from his young from his mother's cheek, "you must not blame her, heart. He would see no one, go to no house where she could not help loving him. It was not her fault. he had formerly been, but sat for hours leaning his You know it would have been wrong in her to mar-arms on his little table, and his head on them, or ry me if she loved another-love another!" he ex- rambled alone in the silent forest. claimed with an unnatural burst of violence. "I could not prevail on him to see any know her heart, she does not love him; he is rich, friends; his only wish, he said; was to forget and be I see it she has sold herself, for gold and destroy-forgotten.

Mrs. Howard burst into tears. "I am sure I wish this fellow had been to Guinea before he had come here getting Elizabeth's heart away from you, but she's a cruel heartless thing, I cannot bear her."

His mother of his early

ed me. But she shall not triumph-cold, calcula- One morning Theodore took up his hat, as usual, ting being! He shall die-let me go mother. He and was preparing to go out, when his mother askshall not live in her smiles, while I am cast aside ed him where he was going," to the woods, molike a dog to die. Yes, mother, I am dy―ther."

dying."

"How long shall you be gone."

"I know not."

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without food-indeed it is wrong; you will get sick, you will die, then what will become of your poor mother. My son," she continued, endeavoring to suppress her tears, "I have never spoken to you about your sorrows since the first day of your return, but I must speak; it grieves me to the heart, to see my only child give himself up to such misery and despair. Now don't sit down to that table again. I cannot bear to see you there, leaning your head on your hands for hours. It is not right, my son; you must employ yourself."

The violence of his passion now abated as suddenly as it had arisen, and he fell back insensible in his Dear Theodore, you must not wander so much mother's arms. The unhappy young man was pla-alone in the forest. You must not stay out all day ced in bed, and his weeping mother sat by him, smoothing back his damp glossy locks from his pale forehead with her trembling hands. The tears rolled down her withered cheeks, as she gazed on her only child, in whom she had taken so much pride, bowed down by a blast of misery, lying motionless and insensible before her. The physician, who had been sent for, now came, but it was a long time before the unhappy Theodore showed any signs of life. Then, medicines were administered, the curtains closed, and his sorrowing mother seated herself by his bedside, and watched him until morning. Theodore awoke the next day, calm and rational, but neither the presence, nor the caresses of mother could raise a smile. was stamped in every feat and although he replied to

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"Dear mother-I will do all you wish; what shall I do to please you."

roga, added to the variety and soft beauty of the scene. Elizabeth was in the meanwhile, sitting in a musing attitude, apparently engaged in watching the ripples which were dancing around the boat. "Why, in the first place, you must accustom Malitable was one of those inconvenient personyourself to see Mrs. Graham-nay, do not start so; ages who are born without tact, and turning to stop, you must hear me. It is your only course, if Elizabeth, she said in a low tone, "I dare say you you wish to recover peace of mind. You must hear are thinking now of what just came across me. her name spoken, and see her also; promise me The last time you and I were together on a boating you will try For the sake of your poor old sor-expedition, poor dear Theodore Howard was with rowing mother, do endeavor to seek her. "Mother, I promise."

us."

"Yes, I confess that my ideas were on that sail"That's a dear boy! my own Theodore now-ing party, and it was with the greatest reluctance remember, I have no husband-no one but you to I came to-day; for I cannot bear to enjoy myself, look to for happiness." when I know he is so unhappy-and through my means. Ah, indeed, it sometimes makes me quite wretched."

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Well, mother, I have promised."

"Then, why not go to day."

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Nay, not to the house; there is to be a party to fish on the lake."

"You need not go in the same boat with them, but go with others, and do not let that Graham say you are pining away with grief, because he got your love away."

"I am in hopes he is getting over it now,” replied Mahitable-"I passed the house yesterday, and seeing his mother at the window, I asked her how Theodore was. She answered, "quite well." I then asked how his spirits were. 'His spirits,' she said, drawing herself up- his spirits are very good, I assure you: there is nothing the matter with him, and I hope you will tell your friend, Elizabeth Chapman so.'

"Ha! does he say that. I'll go mother, I will visit all my old friends, indeed I will, but not to-day. I am unfitted for this yet, give me but this one day to prepare myself for this great effort, and I promise Elizabeth sighed, and shook her head. She you, dear mother, I will ride up to Mrs. Chapman's knew him and his mother too well to hope this. and face them all-nay, more, I will laugh and look Arrived now at the fort, the party ascended to ramgay, and they shall suppose every unhappy feeling ble around the ruins. Melancholy is generally is erased from my heart. Will that satisfy you-mixed with our sensations while gazing on a ruin ; This day I must have to school my heart."

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Well, go my son, but remember to-morrow I shall depend on you, who has never broken a promise to me."

Early that day three wagons drove from Mrs. Chapman's door. Beside Elizabeth and her husband, there were all the young people of the town. The ride to Lake Champlain was delightful. The morning was bright and clear, and the air filled with fragrance, which the dew had extracted from the flowers. The songs of the birds re-echoed around the woods, while through openings of the forest, the waters of the lake were seen glittering, and quivering in the morning sun; occasionally a summer breeze wafted aside the thick foliage about them, and gave the gazer a passing glimpse of the deep, and pure cerulean heaven. Our party arrived at the shore in high spirits; every thing combined to wind them up to an unusual pitch of enjoyment. Leaving the wagons, all embarked in sail boats, to "ride on the lake," as they express it. Edward and Elizabeth, with James Chapman, Mercey and Mahitable, and young Bennet were in one boat, while

but here their only feelings were those of proud triumph and gratitude to heaven for their country's freedom. The deeds that were done there were recounted, and they gazed on the crumbling masses, as monuments of the heroes who once fought there.

James Chapman, who had stood with his arms folded, and his eyes fixed on the fallen fortress, now suddenly clasped his hands together, and, while his eyes flashed with enthusiasm, exclaimed, "By gum! I wish I had been here!"

"Gracious me! brother, what's the matter?" said Elizabeth.

"I was thinking of that cute exploit of Allen and Arnold. What rare sport they must have bad! Graham, do you see that rock, on the other side of the lake? Well, there did that valiant band embark; over this very spot they came silently on, headed by Ethan Allen, and took the fort before a single gun was fired. Now, why can't I ennoble my name by some such exploit ?"

"Come," said Mahitable, "you had better join the fishers, and get some fish for our dinners, or the

a larger one contained the remainder of the compa-daughters of your country will starve." ny, and that important accompany ment to all pic- While the gentlemen were catching and cooking nic's the collation. The sails were hoisted, and, the fish, the ladies spread a cloth under the shade filling with the summer breeze were soon far out of some trees, and covered it with their rustic fare. in the blue waves of the lake. James Chapman was constituted waiter, and throwGraham gazed around him with increasing plea-ing a napkin over his arm, he flourished around sure for his eyes had seldom rested on so fair a with so many smirks and graces, that poor Mahitascene. At one time, they were under a mass of ble was almost convulsed with laughter. The fish bold cliffs, which towering to the clouds, threw its dark shadow far out in the lake-then again the level shores, and cultivated tracts, claimed his attention, or some lonely isle, whose deep verdure was spotted with clumps of magnificent trees, while the distant hills, and the outlines of Fort Ticonde

were declared to be cooked to a charm, and the feast was seasoned and concluded with jokes and joyous laughter. The clouds had been flitting about all day-now spotting the broad surface of the lake with shadows, and now sailing far away in the blue sky. Now, however, they gradually

congregated together, and the western sky assumed I saw him far below me, but fainted before I could

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tell them. Oh, Theodore-dear Theodore! go." Theodore gazed on her, and out on the dark lake. A flush of joy rushed over him; but striking his heart violently, maddened that such a thought found harbor there, he sprang into the boat, calling to Elizabeth, "I will save your husband, or die." James followed him, and they were once more on the waters. The floating wreck was attained again, and both gazed down in search of the lost Graham. They espied him at last, and Theodore sprang out of the boat, and down through the water. James watched him anxiously. Theodore worked with incredible exertion to release him, who had made the world a desert to him, and arose twice for air, before he succeeded. He was at length loosened, and Theodore arose with him to the surface; he was placed safely in the boat, and James turned to assist Theodore; but at that moment the blood gushed out over the face of young Howard, and relaxing his grasp, he sank heavily down through the stormy waves. Sorrow had so wasted him, and his extraordinary exertions that

After Theodore left his mother, he betook himself, as usual, to his solitary rambles. His favorite haunt was a hill, which rose abruptly from the shore of the lake. Here, throwing himself on the grass, beneath the shade of a chesnut tree, with no sound near save the rustling of the leaves in the gentle breeze, he gazed sadly out on the lake, and over the varied and beautiful country beyond. "How often," he said, "have I looked on all this with delight! What bright visions of the future passed through my mind! Ah, how happy I was! How incredulously I listened, when the old people, shaking their heads at youth's day-dreams, spoke of the almost certainty of disappointment. There is no change here. The glittering lake at my feet-day had so exhausted him, that he burst a bloodthe wild forests around-the lovely shores, and the elysian islands-all are the same; yet every soft and gentle feeling is tainted by that bitter fountain which lies in the recesses of my heart, and all this beauty gives no pleasure now.'

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vessel, and sunk to rise no more. James, in great distress, rowed around, and lingered in hopes of seeing his unhappy friend, but convinced he was gone forever, and knowing every minute was of consequence to Graham, he sadly took his way to the shore. Graham recovered slowly, but Elizabeth, miserable at the fate of Theodere, was taken home in a state of high fever and delirium.

Mrs. Howard had felt in remarkable good spirits that day, for she now hoped to see her beloved boy recover from his state of gloomy sorrow; and with her knitting in her bag she stepped over to take a dish of tea with neighbor Peabody. At that mo

home. The widow ran to the window. "Well, Jimmy," she said, “I'm glad you have brought them home safely. I was terribly afeard when I heard the thunder, that some accident might happen: but where's the rest? I hope they are all

"Oh, yes," said James, turning pale with his endeavors to speak calmly to the bereaved woman; "they will be all here directly."

A clap of thunder aroused Theodore-he started to his feet and gazed around him in dismay. The sky and water were of one dark hue. The blast, which just then burst down on the land, bore the largest trees to the ground, and filled the air with leaves, and branches, and dust. Out on the cliff's extreme edge-quivering with the idea of the danger of her he so deeply loved; for out in the lake were two boats, with their masts bent to the water.ment James Chapman drove up to bring Mahitable With incredible exertion he let himself down the rocks, and stood on the shore. The larger boat had arrived safely, and landed its terrified passengers. Theodore looked eagerly among them, but she he sought was not there. Wildly he gazed at the other frail bark. Its sails touched the water-safe." it upset, and turned completely over! One groan escaped Theodore; then springing into a boat, followed by others, with the assistance of sails and oars, they succeeded in forcing their way through the waves. Young Bennet they met, swimming to the shore, with Miss Wayland, and after some exertion, had the happiness of rescuing them. Straining every nerve, the upset boat was at length reached, and there, almost faint with exhaustion, James Chapman was seen clinging to its side, supporting Elizabeth. Mahitable had fortunately returned in the other boat. With a burst of gratitude Theodore received the insensible Elizabeth in his arms, and in a few moments the weary crew brought their rescued friends to the shore. Theodore bore Elizabeth to a sheltered James gave his horse a cut, and drove away. spot, where, with the assistance of others, he "Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "I should have wrung the wet from her hair, rubbed her hands, gone raving mad, had I stayed there another moand soon had the satisfaction of seeing her revive. ment. To hear that poor old soul speak so cheer"Oh, my husband!" she cried, gazing wildly fully, so much livelier than she has been for some around her. "6 Did you save him? Where is he?" time past, and to know the blow that is hanging "He must have swam to the shore." over her is horrible." "No, no, he is drowning! Go immediately," she screamed wildly; "He is entangled in the sails!

The poor unconscious mother ran on talking gaily, until a cold chill crept over the party as they gazed on her smiling countenance, and thought how soon anguish would be seated on every feature.

"I am so glad my Dorey did not go with you," she continued. "I urged him to go, but I should have been in an agony of fear had I thought he was on the water in that storm, for should he be drowned, I don't know what would become of me. He is no doubt sheltered somewhere. But drive on-you all look so weary."

As they rode along, they were hailed from many a house, to know the fate of the party, and soon

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