you to enter the ranks, I have a sincere wish to serve you, and am not actuated by mere curiosity.'

Sir Robert answered his commander by simply stating, that, finding himself possessed of a title without any of the requisite means for supporting it creditably, he had been under the necessity of quitting the society of his equals in station, but superiors in point of fortune. I chose,' said he, not without a degree of honourable pride, 'to enter on the humble yet independent condition of a common soldier, rather than make any attempt at gaining a maintenance in my own degree by drawing on the bounty of others, and eating what must have been, at best, the bread of dependence.'

A tear trickled down the brown cheek of the old colonel as he listened to the explanation. 'I admire your candour, sir,' said the veteran, 'and I honour your sentiments. You must be replaced in your proper station-in that station to which you were born, Sir Robert, and to which you will be a credit and an ornament. Thank Heaven, I have interest enough, I think, to procure you a cornetcy; and a cornetcy of British horse is a fitting station for any one-for the first noble in the land.' The poor young soldier, in whose fortunes a great change was thus unexpectedly promised, could scarcely find language to thank his warm-hearted benefactor and commander. But the colonel did not give himself time to listen to thanks. 'I think I am sure of the cornetcy on application,' continued he; but, at the worst, I can procure your discharge, and do something for you in other ways.' Pursuing his kindly intentions farther, the colonel gave our hero a temporary release from regimental duty, and invited him to dinner on the following day, offering him for this purpose the use of a spare suit of plain clothes from his own wardrobe. Sir Robert joyfully accepted the invitation, but declined the use of the colonel's wardrobe, as he had chanced to retain a suit of his own, which was still capable of making a respectable appearance. The young baronet dined with his commanding-officer, not once, but again and again; for the cornetcy of horse was obtained for Sir Robert Innes, and he became daily a greater and greater favourite with Colonel Winram, who found his protégé fulfil all the high promise that had appeared in him at their first interview. Handsome, well bred, and accomplished in all the qualifications of a gentleman, Sir Robert was indeed very generally esteemed by his brotherofficers, and all who met him in society. It was barely possible, however, for any one to view him with the measureless partiality of the old colonel, and of this the following conclusive occurrence will give ample proof. After the new cornet had held his station for some months, the veteran asked his youthful friend to join him in an excursion to the country. The request was of course cheerfully complied with, and the pair set out in the colonel's carriage. After they had gone a considerable way, the colonel told Sir Robert that his daughter and only child was then, for the completion of her

education, residing at a neighbouring boarding-school, and that he was going to visit her. The boarding-school was accordingly reached, and Sir Robert in due time had the honour of being introduced to the only child of his benefactor. She was a young lady in the very spring of womanhood, and beautiful in countenance, though the full graces of her person were scarcely yet developed. The Scottish baronet thought to himself that he had scarcely ever seen filial affection under a more captivating aspect than when Miss Winram, unconscious of a stranger's presence, ran into the room to welcome her father, whose carriage she had seen at a little distance. In short, Sir Robert Innes thought the daughter of his old friend the most charming girl he had yet seen, and the impression was not decreased by her modest, yet lively and intelligent conversation. When the visit drew to an end, he was even a little discomposed, while the veteran exhibited a more open degree of parting sadness. The young lady also looked regretful, but that of course was accounted for as relating to the departure of her father.

The colonel and his young friend were not very communicative for some space. At length the conversation turned on the young lady, on whom her father expatiated with the fondness of a parent; and his observations being assented to somewhat warmly, the colonel, to the surprise of Sir Robert, hinted that his daughter might do worse than take him for a husband. The young man was completely stunned for the moment by this most unlooked-for overture. He could not believe that the veteran meant to sport with his feelings, yet some such notion suggested in part the answer which he gave to the colonel, after a pretty lengthened pause. 'Colonel Winram,' said he, 'I am poor-penniless—and you are wealthy. All I have I owe to you; but '

The veteran somewhat impatiently interrupted the baronet. 'Well, well, that is exactly what I am thinking of. Margery happens to have a small fortune of her own, the bequest of a deceased aunt ; and you have a title: a fair equivalent. I have always honoured ancestral dignities, at least when borne by such as yourself, whom I already love as a son. My girl has been a good daughter, and will be a good wife.'

While the words were yet on his lips, fortune suddenly gave an unexpected turn to affairs, by sending a troop of yearling cattle scampering into the highway from the open gate of a park. The horses of the colonel's carriage were startled, and, by their sudden bound aside, the reins were twitched from the coachman's hands. Feeling no control, the alarmed animals sprang forward at full speed; but they went no great way ere their divergence from the mid-line caused a violent overturn of the vehicle into a shallow side-ditch. The inmates, who had travelled in barouche fashion, were thrown clear out upon one side of the road, which, fortunately, was a grass common. The coachman and Sir Robert Innes, being both of light

frames, were very little injured, but the poor veteran's fall was a heavy and severe one. He lay at first perfectly insensible, with his usually ruddy complexion changed to an ashy whiteness. In a few minutes, however, he regained his consciousness, and in some degree his bodily strength, but complained much of pain in his chest and shoulder. Sir Robert, as may be supposed, was greatly agitated, and at a loss how to get his kind friend within reach of immediate advice and assistance. But the coachman was able, happily, to get the horses quieted and the coach raised with the baronet's assistance, and it was resolved to move slowly back to the boarding-school, from which they were only a mile and a half distant.

The distress of Miss Winram on seeing her kind-hearted father return so unexpectedly, and in such a condition, was extreme, and her solicitude was fully shared by her instructress, Mrs Batty, who instantly despatched a messenger for the surgeon of the district. This functionary soon arrived, and relieved a material portion of the pain suffered by the veteran, who, however, continued to be very feeble, and was besides discovered to have fractured one of his ribs. He occupied a sick-bed for several weeks. In that time, he had such a nurse in his daughter as often made him weep tears of gratitude to Heaven for its kindness in giving her to him. Our readers may well imagine that such a spectacle as this was a dangerous one for our Scottish knight, who had also continued in attendance. In truth, this young gentleman surrendered his whole heart to the veteran's daughter, and did it willingly and consciously, having no alloy in his hopes for the future, excepting in as far as the state of the young lady's affections was unknown to him. But, in his capacity of occasional attendant on the veteran, the young baronet appeared in almost as favourable a light to Miss Winram as she did to him, and the state of each other's affections was soon made manifest by the kindly interference of Colonel Winram.

Our story draws to a close. Sir Robert proposed, and was accepted. The marriage took place as soon as the veteran could leave his couch; and the career of the young Scottish knight, whom our narrative took up in so unpromising a condition, was, by the remarkable incidents detailed, rendered one of much happiness throughout the whole of its after-duration. His beautiful lady brought him one sole child and daughter, whose personal charms in time attracted the admiration of the noblest in the land. One suitor for her hand was a gentleman who afterwards acceded to the title of Duke of Roxburghe; but eventually Miss Innes of Orton became the wife of the sixteenth Lord Forbes. Her grandson is the present possessor of that ancient title; and of her daughters, one became Duchess of Athol, and another the wife of Sir John Hay of Hayston.

'How can the red men be forgotten, while so many of our states and territories, bays, lakes, and rivers, are indelibly stamped by names of their giving?'

No. 24.

E say they all have passed away,
That noble race and brave;

That their light canoes have vanished
From off the crested wave;

That, 'mid the forests where they roamed,

There rings no hunter's shout;

But their name is on your waters,

Ye may not wash it out.

'Tis where Ontario's billow

Like ocean's surge is curled,

Where strong Niagara's thunders wake

The echo of the world,

Where red Missouri bringeth

Rich tribute from the west,

And Rappahannock sweetly sleeps
On green Virginia's breast.

Ye say their cone-like cabins,
That clustered o'er the vale,
Have disappeared, as withered leaves
Before the autumn's gale;

But their memory liveth on your hills,
Their baptism on your shore,
Your everlasting rivers speak
Their dialect of yore.

Old Massachusetts wears it
Within her lordly crown,
And broad Ohio bears it

Amid his young renown.
Connecticut hath wreathed it

Where her quiet foliage waves,
And bold Kentucky breathes it hoarse
Through all her ancient caves.
Wachusett hides its lingering voice
Within its rocky heart,
And Alleghany graves its tone
Throughout his lofty chart.
Monadnock, on his forehead hoar,

Doth seal the sacred trust,

Your mountains build their monument,

Though ye destroy their dust.

-LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.

THE BUCCANEER.

THE ISLE.

THE island lies nine leagues away.

Along its solitary shore,

Of craggy rock and sandy bay,

No sound but ocean's roar,

Save where the bold, wild sea-bird makes her home,
Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam.

But when the light winds lie at rest,
And on the glassy, heaving sea,
The black duck, with her glossy breast,
Sits swinging silently;

How beautiful! no ripples break the reach,

And silvery waves go noiseless up the beach.
And inland rests the green, warm dell;
The brook comes tinkling down its side;
From out the trees the Sabbath bell
Rings cheerful, far and wide,