her. And I went, that time and many others.

It would occupy too much time to tell all the events of the next three years. Suffice to say that Mary and I became more and more intimate; and, almost without knowing it, we found ourselves engaged to be married. I had been employed as clerk in my uncle's store, and it was understood that when I attained my majority I was to have an interest in the business. It was understood between Mary and me that our marriage was to be deferred till that time.

I spent my evenings pretty regularly at Mrs. Graham's, and was in Mary's society continually. I ought to have been happy, and was so, measurably. But I could not help feeling a little uneasy at times at the airs of superiority Mary would assume, and the sarcastic cutting things she would say about me. She was superior to me, I felt thatbetter educated, and with greater shrewdness and knowledge of the world; but I thought it was not generous in her to make it so manifest. At other times, however, she would be so kind and affectionate that the recollection of her flippancy would quite pass away; and then I was entirely happy.

During these three years I frequently saw Mr. Showler. In fact, he rather forced himself upon me; for at first I shunned him. But he seemed such a good-natured, free, pleasant man, that gradually my prejudice wore away, and we grew quite intimate.

So the days followed each other, and the months stretched into years, till at length I attained my majority, and was admitted an equal partner with my uncle in his business. And now, when I pressed Mary to name the day for our union, she seemed strangely reluctant to do so. In vain I entreated, in vain I remonstrated. She would neither name a day nor give a reason for not doing

So. Her conduct seriously annoyed me; she was so indifferent, so pettish, and so unreasonable. Then suddenly, without any apparent cause, she changed to the opposite extreme-grew so fond, so loving, and so amiable, that I was quite transported; and now, at my first

mentioning the matter, she fixed a date for our wedding not two weeks distant. I was overjoyed at this; but the time was so short it would scarce suffice for the necessary preparations. It was needful that I should go to Toronto before our wedding, to settle some business with my father and make some purchases; and this visit was unavoidably postponed till the very week fixed for the ceremony.

At length my business was com'pleted, and I went on board the steamer once more which was to take me to Niagara. It seems a dream to me now, how I stood on the deck watching the sparkling waves stretching dimly blue away to the eastern horizon, bounded on all other sides by the distant hills.

When we reached the town, how eagerly I trod the path to the little cottage among the evergreens! How nervously I rapped at the door! A stranger opened it. She seemed to know me, for she stood aside and allowed me to enter, which I did, as a matter of course, without being invited. The parlor door stood open. How was this? A sick bed! Some body sick! Several ladies were there. As I stood irresolute, there was a whispered consultation, one lady saying, in an excited manner, "No, no! By no means!" But the faint voice of Mrs. Graham said, "Yes, let him come in."

I entered, and found Mrs. Graham upon her bed. She appeared to motion to the ladies, who withdrew, leaving us two alone. I hastened to the bedside and took her hand. As I began hurriedly to inquire after her health, she motioned me to sit down; and then,

"If you -ever see her-no-I don't -mean that,-send her word - let her know-I-forgive her—I—." Here she opened her eyes suddenly and looked toward the door. "Call”

I comprehended the truth in a moment-she was dying. I hastily opened the door. The ladies came in.

I have no wish, had I the power, to describe my feelings on learning of the infidelity of her whom I had expected so soon to make my wife. I suffered deeply; and I may say that the wound inflicted then has saddened my whole life.

I started on a tour West, on foot, staying but a short time at any place. I wandered aimlessly from Detroit to Chicago, St. Louis, Cincinnati; from there through Columbus to Cleveland. By this time winter had come on, and as I had taken little money with me, and would not write home for more, I procured a situation, after some difficulty, as proof-reader on a morning paper. In a few weeks I had succeeded

in earning money sufficient for present necessities, and as my unsettled habits were strong upon me, I began to grow restless again, and had pretty well made up my mind to "move on." It was the Christmas week, and I was debating with myself whether I would go to Toronto to see my friends, or go at once to New York, where I hoped, in the whirl of busy life, to bury myself where my trouble would not find me again.

It was a fierce winter day. The western wind came howling off Lake Erie as if it would tear the very paving stones out of the streets. As we sat at dinner, some one came in and said a schooner had just been driven on the breakwater and all on board were lost. Several of us put on our coats and ran down to the harbor. The lake was lashed into a foam by the fury of the blast, and the scud was flying in sheets through the air. The lighthouse was sometimes invisible. The flying scud froze wherever it touched, and all the buildings near the water were covered with ice; some of them were so heavily loaded that they were crushed beneath the weight. The telegraph wires were broken down, and a portion of the railroad track had been washed away. A great gap had been made in the breakwater by the beating of the waves, and near this gap was a schooner fast going to pieces. Several men in boats, inside the breakwater, were trying to save the crew, and eventually succeeded in rescuing all save two. These two nearly succeeded in saving themselves, when a furious blast swept them away into the foaming water, and they were lost in a

moment.

It was now growing dark, and I returned to my work. The wind howled and raved more fiercely than ever. It beat its way along with a noise like heavy guns at a distance, as if fierce conflicts of infuriated demons were taking place in the air. All the evening a dreadful gloom was on me. I

moment almost to the pavement, then turned and ran swiftly across Main

could not shake it off. I saw the wrecked schooner trembling before the beatings of the storm, and could not forget the poor puny mortals flung in mute helplessness to the mad waves.

We quit work about twelve o'clock. The wind, it seemed, was higher than ever. The cold was intense. Only a few broken clouds were swiftly flying across the sky. I passed up the street on which the office was situated, to Seneca street; thence my route lay down Seneca, across Main, and up Pearl, on which my boarding-house was situated. As I passed along Seneca street, I watched the white clouds passing swiftly over the face of the moon, making it appear as if the moon were flying and the clouds stationary. One bright star a little to the west of the moon was, it seemed, running away from her; and I watched it till I gained an interest in its fate, and I cried out, "Hurry on, little star! Hurry on !"

As I said this, I stepped past the corner on to Main street; but the blast struck me as I did so, and carried me into the gutter. I struggled back with some difficulty, and was preparing to make another essay to cross the street, when a female, in a thin white dress, suddenly came round the corner, almost running against me. A flimsy summer shawl was pulled close about her spare thin figure, and a handkerchief was tied over her head. I think she was partially intoxicated.

"Oh, Lord!" she said coarsely, "it's cold! I've been in d-d bad luck tonight, and

Here she turned her face to me, and, with a suppressed scream, cowered for a

street.

It was Mary Graham!

I stood for a few minutes trembling and helpless, while the white figure went hurrying down the street, when suddenly the thought struck me- -"The water!-she is running toward the water!"

I started in pursuit; but she had gained a block already, and was flying down Seneca street-just, it seemed to me, as the little star was flying through the white, cold clouds. I cried to her to stop, for God's sake; but she only ran the faster. Down, down, down. The canal bridge was passed, and the Erie street depot. We were on the wharf, and the flying scud dashed in our faces. The tempest caught us fairly, and it stopped Mary for an instant, and in that instant I sprang to her side, and almost laid my hand upon her dress, when I stumbled and fell. The next moment she darted away again, and when I rose she was on the lighthouse pier, running out-out-to the very end. The waves dashed over her. Her dress and hair shuddered in the fierce blast. At the end of the pier she paused for a moment-a moment only; then, mingling with the spray, she was swept away by the tempest, and I saw her no more.

THE MISSISSIPPI VALLEY: Its Physical Geography. Including sketches of the Topography, Botany, Climate, Geology and Mineral Resources; and of the Progress of Development in Population and Mineral Wealth. By J. W. Foster, LL.D., President of the American Association for the Advancement of Science; joint author of "Foster & Whitney's Report on the Geology of the Lake Superior Regions;" Lecturer on Physical Geography and Cognate Sciences in the University of Chicago; etc. trated by Maps and Sections. cago: S. C. Griggs & Co. London: Trubner & Co. 1869.

Illus

Chi

Here is a book of 430 pages, by a Western man, published by a Western house, on the Great Western Valley, which will attract the attention of the scientific every where, and will be read with avidity by all intelligent Americans and with special interest by the people of the West. It is written in a clear, condensed, transparent style, free from technicalities unintelligible to the general reader; and the subjects and mode of treatment invest it with the charm and interest of the best works of fiction. The work is divided into thirteen chapters. The first chapter treats of the Mississippi River, its magnitude, depth and slope, length, subordinate basins, tributaries, overflow, outlets, geological character of its bed, levees, bluffs, area of alluvium and of the delta, typical forms of vegetation, and earthquake action in the Mississippi Valley. The second chapter treats of mountains and plains, character of the water-sheds— the Appalachian Range, the Rocky Mountains, the Sierra Nevada, the Cascade and the Coast Ranges, and the Great Basin-character of the main valleys, and internal navigation; closing with sixteen pages on the Pacific Rail

roads. The third and fourth chapters treat of the origin of prairies, discarding the old theories that they are due to peat growth, to the texture of the soil, or to annual fires, and showing that they are the result of the unequal distribution of moisture, modified by temperature. The author divides North America into five zones of vegetation growing out of climactic conditions,

viz :

1. The region of mosses and saxifrages, north of latitude 60°.

2. The densely-wooded region stretching from sixty degrees north to the Gulf of Mexico. The western line of this forest belt passes west of the head of Lake Superior, along the west shore of Lake Michigan, and is protracted southwest into eastern Texas. Spruce-fir forms its northern, and magnolia and palmetto its southern, extension. The American forests have about a hundred and twenty different species, while the European have only thirty-four.

3. Alternate wood and prairie, including the region between the eastern shore of Lake Michigan and the eastern slope of the Missouri Basin in Iowa, latitude 42° north, longitude 95° west; thence the western boundary is protracted a little west of south toward the mouth of the Rio Grande. The boundaries are not well defined, as trees line the valleys of the great rivers to within a few hundred miles of the Rocky Mountains.

4. Vast grassy plains, with trees restricted to the immediate banks of the streams, between the Missouri River and the base of the Rocky Mountains. As we go west, artemisia, cactus and buffalo grass prevail.

5. Vast arid plains, often bare of vegetation, and covered to some extent

with saline incrustations. This zone includes the Great Basin and the Colorado Desert, occupying the region between the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada, extending from the head of the Gulf of California to north latitude 42°. Hot springs and salt lake courses abound, including the Great Salt Lake. In Nye county, Nevada, millions of tons of salt could be shoveled up, lying dry and pure upon the surface, varying in depth from six inches to three feet. In California, periodical rains vary the conditions of moisture and of the forms of vegetation.

The sources of moisture and the amount of rain-fall in different parts of the country are stated. His conclusions are, that the Gulf of Mexico is the source of the rains which water the Great Valley, distributed by the trade winds, which are deflected by the high table-lands of Mexico up the Mississippi Valley. This explains why the greatest rain-fall occurs along the shores of the Gulf; why the western plains, during spring and summer, are almost as well watered as the Atlantic Slope; why the Great Basin of the Colorado Desert, within the zone of the southwest winds, are dry; and why, during the prevalence of the southern winds, the Mississippi Valley has an almost tropical climate. The winds, as an agent in distributing moisture, explain all the phenomena of forest, prairie and desert. The fourth chapter is devoted to showing that the theory of causes which determine vegetation, climate, etc., in North America, hoids good in South America and the Eastern Hemisphere. The fifth chapter is devoted to forest-culture and irrigation, and the effects of forests on health and animal life; showing how they modify climate and retain moisture; and that by disrobing countries of forests whole regions have been desolated. Tree-planting, especially in prairie regions, is the remedy for drought and excessive winds. Chapter sixth is de

voted to climate; chapter seventh to cultivated plants; chapters eighth, ninth and tenth, to the geology and mineral resources of this whole region; and the three concluding chapters to the influence of climate upon man, the origin of civilization, and the progress of development of the great Northwest, from the adoption of the ordinance of 1787.

Want of space prevents as extended a notice as we would desire of Col. Foster's great work on the Physical Geography of the Great Valley. The book is an honor to Western literature, and Western book-making; its mechanical execution surpasses that of any book ever produced in the West, and is a fit casket for the rich treasures it contains; and, in all respects, it is a work in which every friend of Western literature may well feel a common pride.

ASTRONOMY WITHOUT A TELESCOPE: A Guide Book to the Visible Heavens; with all necessary Maps and Illustrations. Designed for the use of Schools. By E. Colbert. Chicago: Geo. & C. W. Sherwood. 1869.

This work is elementary, and the most interesting and instructive introduction to the study of astronomy published. It treats chiefly of the visible heavens, and will enable the diligent student to recognize readily the most prominent stellar groups.

The motions of the

heavenly bodies are clearly explained, and directions given for ascertaining, by the naked eye, the positions of the principal stars with reference to the meridian, the horizon and each other. It adopts the only rational method in the study of astronomy, by beginning with things visible and patent to all who have eye-sight, and leading the student by attractive lessons through the simpler elements to the more difficult problems in astronomy, to the subject of eclipses and the measurement of absolute distances and bulks, and the comparative