scenes of his enterprise and keep a guardian eye upon the river and the great city called by his name. That his father had seen them. in their old Dutch dresses playing at ninepins in the hollow of the mountain; and that he himself had heard one summer afternoon the sound of their balls like distant peals of thunder. 15. Rip's daughter took him home to live with her, and he resumed his old walks and habits. He took his place once more on the bench at the inn door and was reverenced as one of the patriarchs of the village. It was some time before he could be made to comprehend the strange events that had taken place. How there had been a revolutionary war-that the country had thrown off the yoke of old England — and that, instead of being a subject of his majesty George the Third, he was now a free citizen of the United States. 16. He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at the hotel. He was observed at first to vary on some points every time he told it, which was doubtless owing to his having so recently awakened. Some always pretended to doubt the reality of it and insisted that Rip had been out of his head. The old Dutch inhabitants, however, almost universally gave it full credit. Even to this day they never hear a thunder storm about the Catskill but they say Hendrick Hudson and his crew are at their game of ninepins. POCAHONTAS. BY WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. ONE of the most eminent novelists of our time was William M. Thackeray, who was born in Calcutta in 1811. His father left him a large fortune, which enabled the future author to secure an university education. Although Thackeray's first ambition was to become an artist, he devoted him self to literature after the loss of his fortune. He wrote for many years before he gained a reputation, but at last his great novels, "Pendennis," "Henry Esmond," and "The Newcomes," secured for him the highest rank among the great masters of fiction. No writer of his time had such a command of English, and his language is full of purity and strength. Thackeray had a wonderful insight into human nature. He had no patience for falsehood or wrong; but there was a world of tenderness and sympathy in his heart. Thackeray was highly respected and deeply beloved for his rare personal qualities. He died on the morning of December 24, 1863. WEARIED arm and broken sword Wage in vain the desperate fight; He is but a single knight. Hark! a cry of triumph shrill Through the wilderness resounds, As, with twenty bleeding wounds, Sinks the warrior, fighting still. Now they heap the funeral pyre, Who will shield the captive knight? Round the stake with fiendish cry Wheel and dance the savage crowd Cold the victim's mien and proud, And his breast is bared to die. Who will shield the fearless heart? See, there springs an Indian maid. Dauntlessly aside she flings Lifted axe and thirsty knife; Fondly to his heart she clings, And her bosom guards his life! In the woods of Powhatan, Still 't is told by Indian fires RAIN IN THE GARRET. BY DONALD GRANT MITCHELL. DONALD G. MITCHELL, widely known by his pen-name of "Ik Marvel," was born in Norwich, Conn., in April, 1822. Not being very robust, he was sent for a few years to his grandfather's farm. The farm life interested him greatly, and he loved the country. The breadth of a country life was a delight to him. He says, "In the fields of God's planting there is room. The boy grows to manliness instead of growing to be like men." In 1841 he graduated at Yale College. Three years later he went to England, traveling through every county on foot, and wrote letters about his trip for the newspapers. On his return he wrote a book of travels. A few years later he went abroad again, and wrote a second book of travel. His most popular works are "Dream Life "and "Reveries of a Bachelor." In 1853 he was sent as consul to Venice. He returned in 1855 and bought a beautiful farm near New Haven, Conn., which he called Edgewood. There he leads a happy life, enjoying his home and writing. His books are full of beauty and grace, and the later writings are strong, healthful, with a dash of wit and fun. The following selection is from "Dream Life," and is probably one of Mr. Mitchell's memories of the days spent in the old farmhouse where his grandfather lived. Mr. Mitchell wrote a book for children called "Among Old Story Tellers," which is very interesting. 1. It is an old garret with big brown rafters, and the boards between are stained with the rainstorms of fifty years. And as the sportive April shower quickens its flood, it seems as if its torrents would come dashing through the shingles upon you and upon your play. But it will not, for you know that the old roof is strong. You love that old garret roof, and you nestle down under its slope with a sense of its protecting power that no castle walls can give to your maturer years. It seems a grand old place, and it is capital fun to search in its corners and drag out some bit of quaint old furniture with a leg broken, and lay a cushion across it, and fix your reins upon the lion's claws of the feet, and then gallop away! And you offer sister Nelly a chance if she will be good; and throw out very patronizing words to little |