were his own, by his father's will. Slowly and heavily did the wheels of time roll on, but roll they did, and the very evening that preceded the day of his freedom, he frankly told his mother, that hereafter he must be his own master. The good woman was shocked, and suddenly turning her thin sharp face, in defiance of the unaccustomed daring of her son, she encountered such a look of resolute and independent manhood, that thenceforth she never ventured to resume her sway.

Abner's first business was to find a wife. He had long looked forward to the time when he might install, by right and law, some loving damsel over the effects of his well-stored house, and pension his mother off upon the jointure the will prescribed. Over the hill there lived a pretty laughing lass, upon whose white teeth and dimpled cheeks Abner had often gazed at church with longing eyes. He had never met her alone, nor had any love passages ever gone between them; but from the pleasant smile with which she greeted his bow as he met her in the street, Abner augured well of the success of his addresses. Clad then in his freedom suit of blue cloth and bright brass buttons, Abner started off, at the twinkling of the earliest star, on the first Sunday night of his majority, to do valorous courting on the heart of the blithesome damsel. His reception was of the most pleasant nature. The way was free from any rival lover; the old folks moved off to bed at an early hour, and every thing seemed auspicious to his ultimate success. Abner sat,

and chatted of horses and cows, sheep and swine, farms and crops, until a late hour of the night; and though he had made no direct proposals, nor moved nearer to the blushing cheeks before him than at first coming in, yet he came away in full belief of having made one successful advance to the ultimatum of his hopes.

A second and third Sunday came, each coming of which found Abner alone by the kitchen fire, with the damsel of his choice. Could he doubt of success? Sure he had not popped the question, nor had she granted the favors which he had dared to ask ; but had he not been kindly received?—had she not smiled most graciously upon his coming ?-had not the bright fire and cleanly heart h, and bowl of apples, and closed curtains, and lone room, told him plainer than words, that his purpose was understood, and his attentions grateful? Abner was not, however, fully satisfied, and he determined in his heart that another Sunday should not pass without some farther proof of what he wished to know. During the week he revolved the whole matter in his mind, and night and day did he labor, in difficult thought, to frame fitting words for the perilous question. It was a week of trouble. Every thing went wrong. The ripened grass was left unmowed; the uncocked hay was wetted with heavy showers; the cattle broke into the corn-fields; the cows were shut in the pound for straying into a neighbor's enclosure; and the various kinds of farm work were all at sixes and sevens. The truth is, Abner was in love, deep, over head and ears, and was in sad danger.

Another Sunday came at last, and Abner went to church with a heart big in the promise of what the night would bring forth. He was dressed in a span new suit, from top to toe. His form was more erect than it was wont; his face full of meaning; his glances towards the buxom girl in the singing seats, who held his heart enthralled, were frequent, and he felt that they were returned in fullest measure. But, alas! how transitory is human pride! The service was no sooner over than the town clerk, rising from his seat, said aloud, "I hereby publish the intention of marriage between William Depew and Janette Grover!" Poor Abner! he stared for a moment at the public functionary, who, all unconsciously had read the death-warrant to his hopes-turned his rolling eyes on the laughing damsel, now receiving, with blushing face, the thickly proffered congratulations of her female friends; and rushed headlong from the church. The old people gazed with amazement at such an outrage upon the decent demeanor of public worship; and the deacon's dog, sleeping at the door, suddenly awaked from his sun-shiny siesta, sprang barking at his heels. But all this Abner heeded not. Onward he went, regardless of the way, up hill and down dale, through wood and thicket, and deep ploughed meadow, neither stopping nor diverting his course, till he reached his mother's door.

Here then was the end of all the hopes which Abner had cherished for four long weeks. His own chosen

one—the laughing Janette Grover-one whose full, and tender, and blushing charms, he had feasted in delicious madness each holy day-was lost-gone-published. And to such a rival! The dapper upstart of the corner, William Depew, whose fine feathers were all his fortune, and whose speedy downfall every grave person in town was daily predicting! he, the roving, penniless do-nothing, to woo and win the chosen one of the thriftiest young man in town!

With the detail of several succeeding years I am totally unacquainted, further than that Abner labored upon his farm, a taciturn and money-making bachelor. A month ago I met him far up among the mountains, driving a sleek fat horse, attached to a handsome tilbury, filled with a bevy of children and a gentle-looking lady—the whole furnishing a fine picture of domestic contentment.

"And could he, after such an event, marry again?" some fair believer in broken hearts may be ready to exclaim. I asked him so myself, and "long Abner" answered only by a knowing glance at the laughing ones about him.

Where the sweet maiden, in her blooming years,
Cut off, was laid with streaming eyes, and hands
That trembled as they placed her there, the rose
Sprung modest, on bowed stalk, and better spoke
Her graces, than the proudest monument.-BRYANT.

In passing through New England, a stranger will be struck with the variety, in taste and feeling, respecting burial places. Here and there may be seen a solitary grave in a desolate and dreary pasture lot, and anon under the shade of some lone tree, the simple stone reared by affection to the memory of one known and loved by the humble fireside only. There, on that gentle elevation, sloping green and beautiful towards the south, is a family enclosure, adorned with trees, and filled with the graves of the household. How many breaking hearts have there left the loved till that bright morning! Here in this garden, beside the vine-covered arbor, and amidst the shrubbery which her own hand planted, is the monument to the faithful wife and lov