of--his own house. A bill was immediately found by the grand jury, and the trial of the real murderer came on shortly after. For a long time he obstinately denied any knowledge of the death of Silversight; but as proofs after proofs were disclosed against him, he first became doggedly silent, then greatly intimidated, and at last made a full disclosure of his crime. He was found guilty, and executed on the same gallows that had been erected for our calumniated hero. The sickness of Catharine Wentworth was long and severe; but our friend Charles was her physician, and the reader will not wonder that it yielded at last to his skill. The Christian parent of our hero had been condemned, at different periods of her life, to drink deeply of the cup of affliction, and she had bowed with a noble humility to the decree of heaven; it was thence she now derived support in this more trying hour of joy. Spring had gone forth, warbling with her thousand voices of delight over those wide-extended prairies, and the flowers had sprung into a beautiful existence at her call, when the hand of the blushing Catharine, herself a lovelier flower, was bestowed in marriage on the transported Charles Rivington. Never did there stand before the holy man a happier, a more affectionate pair. Their hearts had been tried-severely tried; they had been weighed in the balance, and not found wanting. The house of Mr. Wentworth was the scene of their union; and on the same evening, and by the same hand that bound her 'dear Mister Charles' to his blooming bride, our little Irish friend Judy was united to the worthy Buckhorn, who had been prevailed upon reluctantly to lay aside his hunting shirt and leather leggings on the joyful occasion. The evening glided rapidly away, urged along by tales of mirth, and song, and jest; and it was observed that though Charles and Catharine took but little share in the rattling conversation of the hour, they appeared to enjoy the scene with happiness that admitted of no increase. Indeed, often did the tender blue eyes of the beautiful bride become suffused with crystal drops of joy, as she raised them up in thankfulness to her heavenly Father, who had conducted them safely through all the perils of the past, and at last brought them together under the shelter of his love. "The whole trouble came out of your being so kind, Doctor Rivington," said the manly, though, in his new suit, rather awkward looking Buckhorn. "It was all of your kindness in offering to bring out my plaguy rifle. If it hadn't been for that, suspicion wouldn't alighted on you at all." "Now hould your tongue, Jimmy, dear," answered his loquacious little wife; "I thought so mysell, till Mister Charles explained it to me, and then I found out how 'twas the wisdom of the Almighty put it into his head to carry your gun; for how would you iver got on the true scent, if the big bullet hadn't a tould ye for sartain that it was niver the small-bored rifle what kilt him. No, blessed be His name, that made then, as he always will, goodness its own reward, and put it in the heart of my dear, kind master, to carry out a great clumsy gun to an old ranger like you, Buckhorn. And under heaven, the cause of all our present happiness, tak' my word for it, is THE RIFLE.' Thou first of virtues, let no mortal leave Thy onward path, (although the earth should gape, HOME. FANNY DAYTON was a beautiful girl. The eye of a sculptor could scarcely have detected a fault in her symmetrical form; and her face was one of such loveliness as out-paragons description. Beside the ruby of her lips the damask rose looked pale. Her teeth were as polished as ivory, and white as snow; and one would search in vain to find a similitude for the glossy smoothness of her hair. Her eyes, too-her dark melting eyes, the beautiful rotundity of which seemed always lighted with the sunshine of the heart,--to what shall they be compared, blending as they did the spirit of the eagle's with the softness of the gazelle's? Yet it was in those eloquent orbs, which, with their changeful and soul-beaming expression, almost made any language but their own unnecessary, that her greatest defect consisted. Fanny was near-sighted. This accident of nature, however, did not diminish, but rather enhanced her personal loveliness, giving a fuller and more tender expression to her glance. But it is useless to dwell upon her charms; for it is not in our power to do them justice. Let a poet convey to a blind man a correct impression of the hues of the rainbow, or to one born deaf describe the living harmony of nature, when awakened by the voice of spring from its long wintry sleep, and we will then, with the feeble colouring of words, give a portrait of Fanny Dayton, Could life animate the bending statue that enchants the world, and the quickened marble walk abroad and mingle with humanity, scarce warmeradmiration would be excited by the faultless grace and harmony of its form and features, than the appearance of Fanny never failed to inspire. Had the dispositions of her heart been in entire accordance with her outward perfection, happy indeed would have been the man who succeeded in stamping his image there, and should mingle his vows with hers before the altar. But such was not the case. There were many little faults in her nature, which unlucky circumstances had concurred to cherish; and one of these-a proneness to be insincere, for the sake of being agreeable-gave rise to the incidents of the following story. At a very early period in life, Fanny was doomed to lose for ever the maternal care of that parent, to whose province it peculiarly belongs to form the infant mind; to strengthen it with monitions of prudence, and guide it in the path of virtue. A father's love, be it ever so warm, cannot supply the place of a mother's. The business, the bustle of life, occupies his thoughts and distracts his attention. His mind cannot repose itself upon his offspring in their innocent and interesting childhood, for it is engaged in earnest speculations for their future welfare and advancement; his hasty kiss is made brief by solicitude; and his few and short intervals of relaxation from activity, are spent in devising new plans of action. Different cares and different pursuits claim a part of his attention; "Man's love is of man's life a thing apart, 'Tis woman's whole existence; man may range * Venus de Medicis. The mother, on the contrary, has no being, but in her husband's happiness, and children's welfare; her existence passes quietly away in the little world of home, and is only diversified by the alternation of successive duties. Hours of anxious watching are overpaid by a smile; and she heeds not that her own cheeks is wan, while the bloom of health and hilarity mantles on the faces of her offspring. To Fanny the loss of this parent was indeed a heavy calamity; for fitted, in an unusual degree, by nature and education, by the sensibility of her heart, and the soundness of her judgment, for the delicate and complicated task of parental tuition, her guardian hand would have been quick to eradicate, on their first appearance, those seeds of error, which were suffered to grow up, and in time produced bitter fruit. It was early in the summer season of the year that the events of my narrative took place. Fanny at this time was about eighteen years old, and had hitherto met with no obstacle to ruffle, for more than a moment, the current of her happy feelings. She was all buoyancy and life; and such was the ever-varying vivacity of her countenance, that the most skilful artist would have vainly striven to transfer its expression to the canvass. The residence of her father was on a green eminence which overlooks the Long-Island Sound, at a place where a number of beautiful little islands peep up from its glassy bosom, and seem to float on the surface, like the clouds of a 'summer evening in the azure sky. A stream of limpid water, that had its rise in a stately forest, the dark green foliage of which closed the view in the rear of the mansion, went singing and gurgling on its course through the enclosure, and after forming a basin in a little hollow at the foot of the garden, leaped with a dashing noise, from a projecting rock, into the Sound below. On the right of the house, the hill descended by a gentle |