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be a king." But the Angler happened to be over at | nese gong-to Swift, Shakspeare, Grotius, or PuffenPrairee Isle. "Squire Randolph," said 1, "this is a dorff. He studied splendor and effect; but it is vain to magical pony of mine; he will obey a whistle." "We have heard of dogs," said he, "that have been taught to cypher, but this exceeds." "Let me assure you," said I, "that sometime ago the fairest lady in this valley was extricated from this river by the Angler's whistling on this bugle. But as you seem skeptical, let us follow Lord Bacon's rule, and reduce the thing to the test of experiment." "If that pony," said the statesman, "by just whistling on that bugle, will bring the Angler from Prairee Isle, I pledge myself to give the Angler five guineas." "Then get out the guineas, Squire Randolph," said I; for having whistled, the Angler was mounting at the island. The statesman looked on with intense interest; but when the pony reached deep water his rider called out-"Squire Sully, help me with a whistle." At this the statesman laughed immoderately. "Juba," said he, "this pony is worth my best blooded horse." We spent an hour with the lord of the soil, and then returned to Mannsfield.

deny that he was useful to his country. His imagination was controlled, not so much by his judgment as by his taste, and at times he rose to the romantic eloquence of Chatham. His utterance was clear-his orthoepy perfect-his voice feminine, but of the finest compass-his gesticulation graceful-his person commanding, and his countenance often picturesque in debate. There was one subject on which we wish he could have proved recreant to the strictness of his principles, and that was the celebrated Greek Question. By standing in the opposition on that occasion, he lost a fine opportunity for his eloquence; for who could better have pictured that land of the arts? Who could better have portrayed the obligations of the world to the models of patriotism which she has supplied? Who could have made a more efficient appeal to the marble pillars of the capitol? But this singular man now sleeps beneath his paternal oaks, and the day is not distant when his country will do him justice.

LETTER VII.

Then fable came and laughed and sung.-Italy. Poetry is an art which accommodates the shows of things to the desires of the mind.--My Lord Bacon.

Poetry is the melody which the mind makes when the imagi nation takes the lead; so that it is a matter of mere moonshine, whether the melody be sent abroad in prose or verse. There is a second hint to Virginians thrown out in this Letter.

Note Book.

MOUNT IDA, October 16th. My Dear L.-We have had a spell of remarkably wet weather. When we got up in the morning it

night. This kind of weather, however, gives me most pleasure. It seems so snug to wrap oneself in an old great coat; and on looking out of the window at the beginning of the spell, it pleased me not a little to see Oscar coming with my old chair from Mountain View.

The device had been fixed on, merely to display the statesman in the amiable points of his character. He had often been represented as malignant, ironical and bitter, but it will be impossible for me ever to forget the emotions of his countenance as he handed his donation to the Angler. Intellectually, he was an extraordinary man. He was in the political world, what Byron was in the literary; and as the one is suspected of competency to have been a Politician, if he had not been taken captive by the Muses, so the other might have been a man of Letters if he had not been taken captive by the State. John Randolph was fond of public life; but he was not without misgivings, whether he was not wasting time that might have been devoted to better pursuits. Common men may carry on the State, but Science, Philosophy, and the Muses, require extra-rained-and it did the same when we went to bed at ordinary men. But he had a dread of despotism, and his organ of suspiciousness was so large, that it often roused to exertion a frame worn down by disease. It is not my province to investigate his course on the great questions which agitated the country, or the moral traits of his character. He was no doubt quick of resent-This was very thoughtful in friend Phil. ment, and rather unforgiving to his equals―relentless where prejudice became deeply seated he was lofty in his bearing, and his independence was nursed on the lap of an ample estate-he was quick in reply and often inimitable in his wit-keen in his satire-and his views of politics were extensive. He easily sacrificed friends, but no man gave better evidence of constancy in friendship. He had not the mind of a systematic logician; but there are other paths to truth than by the way of simple ratiocination. He often wandered from his subject, but not until he saw the certainty of a graceful return. His mind was radiant with all the lights which history could supply or memory retain, or imagination and eloquence could employ. No poli-epistle. tician was ever better acquainted with facts and dates, The island of Crete is said to have been remarkable and none ever borrowed more apt illustrations from for correct forms of government at an early period. writers of all nations. He, however, gave a decided The people of Greece drew improvement from distant preference to the literature of England-gathering not sources, and Egypt was the fountain of science to many only on its highway, but gleaning from its sequestered tribes of men. Letters, however, had a higher origin nooks. He cared not where he roved for illustration-than Egypt, or any of the countries on the northern or whether to Grecian fable, or Persian tales, or Arabian southern shores of the Mediterranean sea. Their origin song, or English legend-to the fairy circle-the Chi- in fact was celestial, but of all people none have rivalled

It perplexes me to say why this place was named Mount Ida. You know that Ida was a mountain in Crete, from which the sea was visible on all sides. But here a person is shut out from the maritime world. The former proprietor, however, might have been thinking, when he named it, of a sea of woods--the beaches of which are two parallel mountains. If this conjecture be fanciful, we would hazard another, which is, that the former proprietor might have been a man of classical taste, and during the prevalence of this rain my suspicions were confirmed by finding in the garret a bevy of Greek books. What a treasure! We will take occasion from the incident to write a literary

the Greeks in the diligence, the skill and invention with complexion. Chivalry lent is machinery, and various which they wrought among the elements of learning-mental incentives gave rise to the dramatic writers and hence, these elements were combined into striking | who figured in the reign of Elizabeth. The Parnassian forms. The fable, the lyric ode, the satire, the comedy,mount courses through the different reigns, but breaks tragedy, history, the epic poem, the popular oration, into summits over the age of Shakspeare and Milton, the philosophical discourse, and even the epigram, were as if it intended to leave granite memorials of the bards. some of the fruits which regaled the inhabitants of Who can pass the shrine of Milton without homage? Greece. In all these departments, writers simultane-Deeply read in all that antiquity could supply-enaously arose. In seclusion, the historian bent over the mored of the models of virtue furnished by the repubinspiring task of recording events with which the famelics of Greece-encircling within his genius all that lay of his country was identified-the martial poet dismiss-between the thymy vales of Sicily and the Alpine hills, ed multitudes of thoughts, that they might all be sup- when looking for a theme he did not pause in his search planted by some concentrated image of electric power-till the Muses led him into Eden, where he completed the philosopher dispersed sounds of wisdom through a work as immortal as time. But in the literature of olive halls, and the rude cave of the orator became to the reign of Anne, there was a relaxation from the him a grotto. And why? Because Greece understood severe to the gay, the light and the graceful. Then the value of letters, and therefore supplied impulses to the Muses poured from their manifold horn the easy the cultivation of the mind. Restricted in territory, all satire, the descriptive essay, the useful fable; and to the republics repaired to the Olympic contests, and men this species of mental effort the works of Bacon proof letters, instead of being held in disdain, partook of bably gave rise--works which contained the seeds of a the animation inspired by olive crowns and burning beautiful vegetation. Though cast off by his country, wheels. Land of mountains, on whose summits the and enduring what among the ancients would have eye of the poet was always rejoicing-of springs, be- amounted to the penalty of exile, alone in the retirefore which the weary bard laid off his sandals-of ment of St. Alban's, this great man still wrought for groves, in which the philosopher found a fragrant the good of his species. home of myrtle steeps, which shaded the brows of the historian--of temples, created by the wand of the architect-of hills, surmounted by the models of the statuary-and forums, which were vocal with the eloquence of the exulting orator. And why may not Virginia resemble Greece? It is not mine to answer: but let her native children ponder the question.

But the bishop of Cloyne, who built a college in the Summer isles, predicted that the Muses after wandering about in the old world, would make their final home in the new. If this be true, our country will be highly honored; and the question may be put to rest, whether, as Americans, we are ever destined to become a literary people? The reproachful question-Who reads an American book? has long since been answered in the halls of the English nobility and by the medals of English kings. But this sketch has been given simply with a view to ground on it a few remarks. We would then ask the question, Whether there is no danger that in our literature we may become the imitators of the En

In looking at Roman literature there is one feature by which it is uniformly marked, and that is the principle of imitation. Greece supplied models in every mental department to those who became masters of the world. The minds of Tully, Seneca and Pliny, were enriched from foreign fountains, and even to this imitative literature the Romans furnished incentives. Menglish as the Romans were the copyists of the Greeks? of genius were not left to pine in obscurity. There have been days when men of letters played with the imperial purple-when philosophers had estates and poets were not without villas. It is delightful, in turn ing over their works, to read, not of want, but of the villa with its curling vines, its playful fountains, and its smiling prospects. Who does not rejoice that Cicero, Virgil, Pliny, Seneca, and Tibullus, could point to their retreats of lettered ease, from which wolfish avarice was excluded? It is true that Ovid was an exile, but the cause of his banishment, just or unjust, is unknown; and it is true that Seneca and Lucian were put to death in the reign of Nero-but who was safe when such a despot governed? Literature promises no exemption from acts of outrage, but its voice has often quelled the fury of tyrants. To this end, in eastern despotic countries, it has often veiled its diamond truths in fable.

Literature has had its periods of declension and of revivification. Its eras are conspicuously marked. Such an era occurred on the fall of the eastern empire of Rome, when Dante introduced celestial strings into the Italian harp. Then Petrarch collated manuscripts at Arqua-Tasso opened on Europe his oriental panorama-Ariosto enchained attention by his wizard spells, and Boccaccio told his hundred tales-and from Italian sources English literature received some features of its

Indications thus far point out the reign of Anne as holding the goal which we desire to reach. Our men of letters complain of the barrenness of our country as to the materials which it furnishes. But when Campbell chose to make Pennsylvania the scene of a work, he vanquished the difficulties arising out of popular character and manners. We have many motives to the raising of indigenous works, and particularly should we notice that the English ask productions from us, not about England but America. But another question deserves here to be propounded-Will Virginia ever give encouragement to the cultivation of letters? In some respects her glory is complete. She has been the parent of great men. This statement is made good by Mount Vernon, Monticello, and Montpelier-whilst in the person of Chief Justice Marshall, death has stricken dumb the oracle which dispersed so many responses of wisdom to these United States. But has Virginia ever yet produced an individual, of whom it can be saidThis was a man of letters? Is there a spot in our state, of which it can be said-Here stood the house of a poet? And yet has Virginia no golden violet to bestow on the man who shall first redeem her literature from the bondage under which it has so long lain to politics? It is in vain to ask what advantages are to result from the cultivation of elegant letters. Suppose the state had

within its limits an Arqua, a Twickenham, or an Ab-| with her port-folio. On reaching here, she was using botsford. Would no glory result to us from such a her blue eyes, even at twilight, in tracing out some corpossession? Would no advantage accrue from a place ners of Italy and Greece, for she had spent the day in of pilgrimage to thousands smitten with the love of classical research. "Friend Gertrude," said 1, "let me song? Some have asked-What did Burns accomplish assist you." "It's not important just now," she obby the production of a few small volumes of poetry? served, "and it's time to close the maps." More decidedly for Scotland than any other man, in We have said that this joint establishment was the associations he threw over the country. Of whom called after unfortunate places. Auburn was a village do the Scotch speak when gathered around their winter of the Emerald Isle, that went into a state of decay; fire? or of whom do they most think when abroad but it was immortalized, even in its decay, by the pen among their mountain mists? Of whom do they medi- of Goldsmith. There is something in the writings of tate when spring dots the vallies with cowslips, or Goldy, as he was familiarly called by the knot of wits when summer sets its crowns of verdure on their hills? that got tied together in the reign of George III. that Of whom do they muse when they seek a home among pleases me beyond description. His sheer natural huthe savannahs of the West Indies, or beneath the shade mor transports me, and his Chinese letters are delightof the banyan? In their associations, they forget their ful. The mind of Goldsmith was not scientific, but his regal line to think of the Ayrshire ploughman, who taste is unrivalled; and in reading his works, my eye interwove his name with every object from the high-is rivetted by the attitudes of the Alpine antelope, or lands to the Tweed. His form is seen every where, nor can they lay the brilliant spectre. The glory of all that lived and conversed with the peasant bard seems to have faded away, whilst the bard survives secure in the admiration of his country. We need not ask what good he accomplished, when, if he had never lived, Scotland, in comparison with what she now is, But if Goldsmith has traced the slow inroads of demight have been as the wastes of Barbary. But if cay on a village, which had been the home of simple Virginia would be advantaged by the rise of a single enjoyments, Campbell has portrayed the sudden depoet to lend a charm to her inspiring scenery, and to struction of a town once seated in the vale of Wyoming. attach the affections of her children to their home, what A melancholy, deep and touching, pervades the poem, advantages might not arise from a hundred such men? in strict keeping with the dark passions displayed. And this may be; nor will the state be long in decid-Some men, manifestly, have written too much; but ing the question whether they shall be fostered by Campbell belongs to the number of those who have her care, or crowned indeed, and then banished the been too sparing in contributing to the literature of the republic.

LETTER VIII.

To paint thy Gertrude in her bowers of yore.-Campbell. Here is an unfortunate pair come together; but we shall neither kill Gertrude nor drown the Angler.-Note Book.

We may send vernal flowers round about to our neighbors; but who thinks of the Autumnal Emigrant on his way to the Prairees? He looks wishfully at the deer, and passes on, saying "I too may have a park in the west."-Note Book.

on the footsteps of the stately lion, or on himself, as he winds by the Loire, or plays on his simple instrument by the cottages of the Swiss peasantry. Before this artless child of the Muses, we forget the inefficient style of Addison-the Corinthian gorgeousness of Burkeor even the classic splendor of Milton.

age. We owe him a debt of gratitude for his work on the British Poets, in which he has taken a wider scope than Johnson. But we leave the bard who has drawn a melancholy halo around Wyoming, hoping, however, that our Gertrude is reserved to a happier destiny.

If any thing has ever perplexed me, it is an attempt to unravel the character of Gertrude, or rather to analyze the charm of her manners. She is the gentlest of creatures, and yet she is firm―melancholy at times, but in a moment it is chased away-retired in her habits, but she could win the rudest Goth-diligent, but always AUBURN AND WYOMING, November 22d. at ease-practical in her views, but often ideal-spreadMy Dear L.-On returning from Mount Ida to the ing abroad the fertility of her virtues, but keeping sehouse of friend Phil, the family were rejoiced to see me. cret the sources of that fertility. The man is to be The first voice that saluted my ear was that of the pitied who could not listen a whole day to the accents child Roberta, exclaiming "Father, yonder comes of her tongue. "Friend Sully," she remarked to me Squire Sully with his flower-basket." The last few the other day, "we shall soon need a new poem." days, however, have been passed at this seat, which is "What shall the title be, Gertrude ?" replied I. "The certainly named after a couple of unfortunate places. Deserted State," said she; “for my friends are migratThis is rather a strange fancy in its proprietors. Au-ing to the west, and the old Angler may be forced to burn, you must know, is a heavy stone building gone to resume his staff. But, friend Sully," continued Gerdecay, whilst Wyoming nearly adjoins it in the same trude, "this subject is mentioned only to ask a favor of yard. The latter is fitted up in true cottage style, with you. At this season-and sometimes it is not without a few locust trees that skirt the lawn; a white railing bleakness-there are forlorn emigrants crossing the runs round the house, with gates that turn on pivots to ford of our river. The multitude passed by in Octogive you entrance, with a plenty of woodbine at the ber, but there are gleanings to the harvest. Will you windows. But though humble, it contains a quantity take this pair of guineas, and go to the river? The of old books saved from the wreck of a large estate, amount is small, but it's rather too heavy to be sent unand it has about it marks of a once sumptuous family. der the wings of a bird." "Don't doubt me, Gertrude," It is the abode of Gertrude. Here she gratifies her said I-and, mounting my pony, soon reached the bank taste by reading the classical writers, or amuses herself of the Shenandoah, and on the other side discovered

His coat of arms-a flowing sheaf
Surmounted by a cypress leaf,
But fastened by a diamond ring.

some emigrants. On leaving Wyoming, its fair inmate | verse of his fortunes, he went to a Heraldry office in had handed me a pocket spy-glass, by using which I England, and found saw a man descending the opposite bank. His goods were carried by a horse that tottered under the burden, and he was followed by a ragged train of boys and girls, whilst the mother held in her arms a couple of twin children. The man and the person who kept the ferry began to talk. "Ah," said I, "that ferryman is after money, and it's in vain that M'Kenzie wrote his Man of Feeling." The parties soon got to high words; the one excited by insolence, and the other by despair. At length the ferryman called out in tones that reached across the river-" Well, yonder is Squire Sully, ask him." At this my pony plunged into the ford, and, on reaching the scene of the altercation, I took my stand, and kept whistling to Pilgrim till he had carried over the caravan in parts and parcels, and then returned for his owner. After reaching the company I took out the guineas, observing at the same time-"Unfortunate man, a kind hearted lady, Gertrude by name, has commissioned me to bestow these guineas where it may please me best; let me then give one to each of these infant children." "On one condition alone," said the man, "and that is, that the boy shall be named Sully, and the girl Gertrude."

It so happened, however, that the people on James river, in those days, were much addicted to the sports of the turf-and two celebrated horses were brought into those parts to engage in an Olympic contest. One was called the King of the Forest, and the other the Maid of the Oaks; and the gentleman of whom we write went in his reduced condition to the race. There was a prodigious crowd on the ground, and the animation of the field was unusually great-and before the horses started, one Colonel R. rode up the course, and found this man seated on a fence. "Do you feel inclined to stake on either of these horses?" said Colonel R. to the sorrow-stricken man. "There was a time," replied he, "when the individual addressed might have defied the turf; but the wheel of fortune has crushed all save this solitary ring." "That were unfortunate," replied Colonel R. and kept on his way. The horses were soon brought to the post, and at the close of the first heat the King of the Forest had proved the This emigration is, indeed, becoming a serious affair, swifter. The temptation now became too strong for a and it ought to be turned over among the lights of phi- man who had lost estates in the same way. Accordlosophy. One would suppose that we were in the ingly he found Colonel R. and the ring was staked on midst of the crusades, from seeing the crowds that pass the King of the Forest, and not only staked, but lost. every week to the south and west. It pleases me to The shade of despair now seemed to involve in its folds see emigrants coming into Virginia, even from across the last twinkling ray of hope. But Colonel R. was a the water, because my information of foreign habits is man of tender feelings, and from that day performed thereby increased. But forsaken towns, and hamlets many kind offices to this once princely individual; and falling to ruin-seats of opulence abandoned-and mills after the property had gone through several hands, he standing idle that used to entertain our happy peasant- became the purchaser of the estate which had once bery-these things make me sad. Man must be restive longed to the sires of Gertrude. These particulars to relinquish for precarious schemes, a land, along will explain the reluctance with which its possessor which the Blue Ridge draws its flowing line in streams yielded the ring even at the call of philanthropy. It is of beautiful elevation, and which can boast of a water now in my possession, set apart to the redemption of power equal to that of the best maritime states. The Angler's Rest; and yet others attach to it but little delusion is complete as was the South Sea scheme, value. The other day the people assembled to sell out which involved in ruin statesmen the most profound-the Angler. It was shown on that occasion; but the wits the most acute-and speculators the most saga- diamond of the great Mogul could not have staid execious.

This letter thus far wears a melancholy hue-and we must add somewhat to its sombre aspect. It is not to be wondered at, that Gertrude is at times in the shade of despondency. She is the grandchild of a man who once lived on James river, and who owned estates on Pamunkey, York and Roanoke. His establishment was superb. His park was the best on the river, holding a multitude of English deer; and his furniture was imported from the same country with his deer. But his family being of English descent, he went over to see relatives still living-and there was commenced that system of incautiousness which made hasty inroads on his property. He was impatient of control-could not bear to be taunted-and where other men would adventure a guinea, he would hazard an estate. But my heart is so appalled, that it forbids me to trace the windings of that tornado which swept his sheaf clean of every grain. We err; for there was one left, and that was a ring which had been handed down and guarded with sacred care. The reason of the vigilance exercised over this miniature object was, that after the re

cution. Just, however, as the place was to be struck off, a messenger came, bringing along with him some quirk of the law, by which the place obtained a respite till some time in March. The old Angler was glad; but he may be like the thirsty Arab, who dreams of a fountain, but on awaking, still finds himself among dreary sands.

LETTER IX.

As in the hall we talked the ransom came,
And in one night, with no ungrateful mind,
Albert was sailing on a quiet sea.- Italy.

If a man be near drowning, let him draw on the bank. But would'nt it puzzle Franklin, Parry and Ross, to tell how three whistles could bring a windfall?--Note Book.

Seeing that all are happy, you need not be prolix.-Note Book.

SHARON, January 3d.

My Dear L.-We like, among a cluster of country seats, to find one occasionally bearing a sacred appellation. Crimes may, indeed, be transacted at such places, as well as at Lumnor Hall, or among the heaths of

Lammermuir. But to approach the denouement of our | yourself, Angler, for he will soon be here." "Any thing speechial guine to take place, Squire Sully?" said Oscar. "Nothing, Oscar, except that Miss Gatty is guine to James River."

simple story; for the tale being a mere peg on which to suspend a few thoughts, it may be as well to draw it and give it to you..

LETTER X.

Christmas Eve caught the family of friend Phil and The company soon after retired, and the next mornmyself at this place. In old times, the Lowlanders al-ing the Angler accompanied the Indian chief to the ways wanted some merriment about this part of the gap of the Ridge. year, but of late they have become a little more sedate. In the evening Gertrude came in a rusty carriage, drawn by an indifferent pair of horses. The Angler too had come, and it seemed strange that he should bring his Indian presents, till it occurred to me that he was afraid they might be taken by the sheriff. Nothing was now wanting to complete our party but Phil Parker, who had promised to join his family, and in a few minutes, wishing to revive something like the old Christmas Angler, take this bugle, and give it to friend Phil-for chivalry sports, he rapped at the door and repeated the follow-is gone out of fashion.-Note Book. ing lines:

Once on a Christmas eve, ere yet the roof
Rung with the hymn of the nativity,
There came a stranger to the rural gate
And asked admittance.

Upon opening the door an Indian chief whom he had
picked up on his way to the seat of government, made
his entrance. Ah, the old Angler was glad and so
was the chief. They laughed and looked and talked,
and Oscar put down his head--"Squire Sully," said
he, "hant that the dead Latin that they's speakin be-
tween em?" "The living Indian, Oscar," said I, "no-
thing but the living Indian." Gertrude you know excels
on instrumental music, and with great simplicity and
sweetness she sung the following lines:

Warrior of a tented field,

Tented by many a stately oak,
With deserts for thy battle shield,
And rolling clouds thy martial cloak.
Chieftain, wilt thou hail the day

When heavenly light thy hut o'erflows,
And bowmen all convene to pray,
'Mid scented leaves from Sharon's rose?
When ruby birds and emerald meet,
To chant in choral interlude,
And wrens shall chirp at eagle's feet,
And kids shall play with leopards rude.

When o'er the lion's shaggy mane,

The fawn shall crop its myrtle meal,
And kids whose sires he rent in twain
Shall with the lion gently kneel.

Claude of Lorraine finished his pictures, but in all mine there shall be something left for the imagination to supply.

Note Book. Being done with the present tense, we can go on to the preterite.-Note Book.

GREENWOOD,

1836.

My Dear L.--It was an exact year from the time of my entrance to the valley, to the time of my getting out of it. The serious pursuits of life put an end to my knighthood; but my memory has drawn more than lished in the home of her fathers, and it has ever since once on that year of playfulness. Gertrude was estabbeen the abode of hospitality, elegance and goodness. Ned Ringgold was at the University about the same time with myself and Phil Parker, and it was then and there that we made a triple league to be friends so long as we lived, nor has this league been broken. At the same time he told us the tradition of his ancestor's

winning the ring, and he vowed if it ever descended

to himself that he would restore it. You see he has made good his pledge.

Ned Ringgold was about as clever a youth as could be found one of a thousand. There was a point of contrast however betwixt him and Phil Parker. Friend Phil was so sprightly, that he retains a portion of this temperament up to the present date; but Ned is remarkably grave. This is owing to an abstract talent which he has cultivated at a large expense of time and trouble. He used to tell me sometimes--"Your urn of ideality, friend Sully, is rather hot. Take the circle of the mathematics, and it will be cool like a cucumber." This is true; but if as a connoisseur the Muses have not allured me to the top of Parnassus, they have at least chained me as an amateur around the base of the mountain.

After Gertrude had closed her lay, the company On the morning of my leaving Mountain View, the looked contented. This, however, is a word rather Angler came for my luggage. "Luggage indeed,” said cold for the occasion. They looked smiling, and the I; "Angler, here are some papers filled with scribbling; moments were stealing away, but not without leaving but the critics-""And who are they?" said the Angler. a vivid influence on the memory and affections. But "People,” replied I, "who fish in troubled waters, a shade was resting now and then on the face of the catching many a foolish perch; but sometimes they Angler, and it was not difficult to tell what was passing have caught a Tartar." We now entered the boat, in his mind. "Angler," said I, "that lien which has for its owner was to convey me across the ford, and perplexed us so long has been adjusted, and Angler's after whistling for a windfall, he remarked--“Squire Rest is free from incumbrance as any Blue Ridge bird." Sully, Angler's Rest looks very snug; suppose you live "When, and how?" said the Angler. "Yesterday," with me. If we could hook you in for a year or so said I," as to the when; and as to the how, be it known longer you might own it." "Thank you," said I, "but that it has been done by a friend of mine, Ned Ring- Squire Sully is going to be married." At this the Angold by name, who lives on what was once called Pow-gler laughed. Why, we thought about here," said hatan river, but at present called James, after an En-he, "that you were cutting your eye at Miss Gatty." glish king." "Squire Sully," said the Angler, "will"There's as good fish in the river, Angler, as were ever you send him my thanks?" "You may give them taken out of it, and the lady of my choice is quite equal VOL. III.-30

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