was once beautiful and lovely, but now the soft vermilion had faded from her cheeks, and an unearthly red triumphed in its stead. She had been somewhat of an enthusiast in her better days, and at this particular time her feelings seemed wrought to an unusual excitement. It is said, just previous to death, the mind grows more brilliant, and leaping back over the trodden pathway of life, throws its own bright light around the most minute objects, and with her such seemed to be the case. She appeared at this time to riot in the wild pleasures of her imagination. She wondered where she should be laid when she died. If her soul, when the breath left the body, would glide along amid the burning stars. If her youthful friends would strew the wild flowers of spring above her grave, as she had over the dust of her juvenile companions. If her father would, when death stilled his pulse, be placed by her side. She had breathed out many a long starry night, with the silence only interrupted by the drowsy swing of the pendulum of a clock, which stood near her head. She made one wish-it might be a foolish one. She had nursed a rose-bush for years, and she requested her younger brother to plant it above her grave, and be sure to transplant it again when the autumnal winds began to get too chilly, returning it back in spring; thus following this custom as long as it should continue to bloom.

In the midst of this warmth of feeling, Winfield and the chief entered. The hunter stuck his tomahawk in his belt, and with a noiseless step approached the bed-the father drew a chair up at the head of his dying daughter. Doa dropped down in a corner near the nurse in a surly mood, and all was still. It was a strange spectacle, as the savage, arrayed in the horrid garb which he invariably wore, stood above the white and emaciated girl in the last stage of a decline. The shade of the long dark lock of hair upon his crown, lay full upon her brow, and in this posture the chief stood like a monument, viewing the most lovely wreck he ever saw. After satisfying himself, he drew forth from his belt the leaves and roots he took from the cavern, and giving them to Winfield, whistled to his dog, and immediately departed.

It has been thought that the Indians are the most skilful of all physicians. They use nothing as medicines but the wild plants of the forest, and tradition says

some most wonderful cures have been effected by them. Be this as it may, the administration of this decoction completely restored the daughter of Winfield, and she long shone as one of the loveliest girls of" the land of steady habits." The whole regiment of Smiths in the state of Connecticut, sprang from six families, and, as she married a husband by the name, she contributed her full quota to the general fund. This is the greatest compliment recorded in her favour. If anything more is wanted, just procure a copy of her epitaph, which comprehends about one hundred lines, written by Deacon Dwight, and all the perfections which humanity can ask, will there be found. But this is getting beyond my history.

It may be well to explain the cause of Winfield's sudden appearance at midnight at the island grotto. Some friend had informed him of the exquisite skill of Indians in general, in cases of sickness; and he recollected to have seen Eagle-eye digging roots and gathering herbs in the time of spring. His daughter had been pronounced hopeless, and therefore no great danger was to be apprehended from the prescriptions the hunter might make. The reason of his adopting such a lonely hour for his visit, was the repugnance the chief had always manifested to entering the village of the pale faces.

Few years had now passed, and time had nearly bent Eagle-eye to the earth. His strength was so far gone, that in vain he attempted to climb the ragged promontory, where he had prayed to the thunders. His canoe but seldom left the inlet where it was moored, for his hands were too feeble to clasp the oar, and guide it round the bends of the river. Sometimes, when the flowers were out in spring, and the surface of the waters was gentle and glassy, he would work it up near his favourite fishing-spot, and fling over his line. This spot was a deep hole near the roots of a lofty elm, and when the waters were still and transparent, the dark spotted perch and swift trout, might be seen near each other. But the island itself was a pleasing prospect to his eyes. He used to walk around its coast, and imagine it a wilderness. One noble, regallooking tree, stood upon its south side, and many a long summer-hour the chief spent beneath its shade. The burialplace of his fathers was a gentle slope, within sight of the island facing the west, and he always watched the going

I believe it to be a general rule with all narrators of "Historiettes," never to allow a young couple to become domiciled under the same roof without engendering the tender passion, and I mean shortly, in a work of fiction, boldly to strike out a new reading for myself; but at the present time, as I have to do with stubborn facts, I must be content to jog on in the old-fashioned way, and admit that there was some truth in the surmises of an attachment existing between Mr. Karl and the pretty Adeline; and perhaps it was not so wonderful that such should be the case, all things considered, for Adeline was, in honest truth, a remarkably pretty girl, with a something so piquante and lively about her, that you were lured away by her fascinations, ere you had time altogether to make up your mind that you were doing anything more than considering her as a very agreeable sort of a person. As for Mr. Karl, I can't, as an honest historian, quite agree with Adeline, in saying he was very handsome. He was quiet in his manners, elegant in his appearance, and particularly attentive as to the make and arrangement of his dress; in fact, it appeared as if he embodied in a German person, that in England we generally believed (at least before Prince Puckler Muskau taught us otherwise), to be only found as belonging to an English gentleman.

It was not until some time had elapsed that Mr. Karl, finding himself extremely annoyed by the attentions of a provokingly handsome puppy towards Mamselle Adeline, began to question himself as to why he felt so much irritated, and then it occurred to him in the strongest manner possible, suddenly as it were, without any mental train of reasoning, that he was in love. Now the first thing we do, after discovering that we are thus caught, is to wonder at our stupidity in not sooner being aware of it, because, should circumstances or necessity render it advisable, we may have an opportunity of quietly backing out before matters are carried too far, and in Karl's case, he clearly saw that he was too far advanced to be able to retreat,--however much stern necessity might point out the prudence of such a step. In consulting with himself, he could only see one great obstacle that presented itself—his father in sending him to Heidelburg, and specifying the various acquirements necessary for his son, had never said a word

whether such a thing had ever been thought of and even had it been in contemplation, he was tolerably sure that much as he might admire the charms, the elegance and disposition of Adeline, his father would not consider them as sufficient, without the balance were equipoised by rank and wealth.

If Karl, or even the pretty Adeline had been slow in discovering the growth of their affections, Madame Hartmann had been somewhat quicker; she had had experience in these matters, and could understand the various little incidents, which, unheeded by the parties themselves, speak volumes to a careful and interested observer; and as a wise and prudent mother ought to do, she deemed it right, before matters went too far, to know something more about Mr. Karl Leibetz: it was true Mr. Reisthan had stated his family to be of the highest respectability, and that he was instructed to honour his drafts to any amount;all that might be very well, as far as their original position was concerned, but something more she thought ought to be known, as matters seemed to be taking a different turn. So one day, finding the opportunity of making up some accounts with Mr. Reisthans to be very convenient, she stated at once what were her suspicions, and begged to know who and what the elder Mr. Leibetz might be.

The worthy banker seemed somewhat posed at such a downright question, for he stared at Madame through his spectacles as if she had been a newly-discovered error in his ledger, but the scrutiny was unsatisfactory, for the lady had screwed up her countenance in the most determined manner; and, like Brutus, she paused for a reply.

"This is an awkward business, madame," rejoined the banker.

"An awkward business!" responded the lady, in surprise. "Very."

"I really don't understand you, Mr. Reisthans.'

"I am sorry for it, madame; but to explain. It is a pity your daughter should love Mr. Karl, and it is a pity Mr. Karl should be enamoured of the young lady, because there can be no marriage in the case.

"What," screamed the astonished mother, "not marry my daughter!" 66 Perfectly out of the question." "Is he married already?" "Certainly not."

"Then what is there to prevent him."

MANORIAL ARCHIVES.

BY HORACE GUILFORD.

(For the Parterre).

THE SCOURGED PAGE.

ROMANCE THE SECOND.

[Concluded from page 298.]

IN an hour afterwards, he of the sunflower was seen to ride slowly and unattended, down the street by the castle walls, across the bridge over the Swale, and up the woody steep of the opposite bank.

A long range of dreary moor-land now received Sir Angelo and his gallant barb; but they pricked briskly across it.

Unheeded was the magnificent view from Scatterick Head, into Preston Scaur, barricaded by the broad Penhill. Unnoticed was that long declivity which, like a shifted scene at a theatre, so magically changes the wide purple heath, for dark turfy lanes, immured between high banks, enamelled with flowers, and sepulchred in foliage. Nor did the

little tavern at the shady village of Redmire, detain the knight; the Peacock sign over its sunny porch, its bay window, its oak-beamed and stone-flagged parlour, its massive elmine settle, and its well-garnished beaufet, allured the evening traveller in vain.

On, on, fared horse and horseman into the beautiful bosom of Wensley dale; and when the solemn form of Bolton castle arose before them, the sun was just mantling his gigantic towers with occidental gold.

Must our baronial ancestors have been, * Why! what Anakim Since for their ancient siege and thronedom, naught

Less than a moulded mountain might suffice.

This embattled palace of the Scroops, the glory of Wensley dale, fills and even overpowers the mind by its prodigious grandeur of dimension, and the extreme simplicity of its design.

If you were to be asked about Bolton castle, and answered that there were four square walls, flanked by four square towers-and nothing else, you would have said the truth. But what towers, and what walls!-Semiramis might have * Old Fragments.