suffering period of its existence, and by means of this impression to deepen their gratitude to their patriot-fathers; a sentiment that will tend to increase their fidelity to the free institutions transmitted to them. Historic events and war details have been avoided; the writer happily being aware that no effort at "A swashing and a martial outside" would conceal the weak and unskilled woman. A very few of our "immortal names" have been introduced, with what propriety the reader must determine. It may be permitted to say, in extenuation of what may seem presumption, that whenever the writer has mentioned Washington, she has felt a sentiment resembling the awe of the pious Israelite when he approached the ark of the Lord. For the rest, the author of these volumes is most happy in trusting to the indulgent disposition which our American public constantly manifest towards native literature. THE LINWOODS. CHAPTER I. "Un notable exemple de la forcenée curiosité de notre nature, s'amusant se préoccuper des choses futures, comme si elle n'avoit pas assez à faire à désirer les présentes."-Montaigne. SOME two or three years before our revolutionary war, just at the close of day, two girls were seen entering Broadway through a wicket garden-gate, in the rear of a stately mansion which fronted on Broad-street, that being then the court-end of the city-the residence of unquestioned aristocracy(sic transit gloria mundi!) whence royal favour and European fashions were diffused through the province of New-York. The eldest of the two girls had entered on her teens. She was robust and tall for her years, with the complexion of a Hebe, very dark hair, an eye (albeit belonging to one of the weaker sex) that looked as if she were born to empire-it might be over hearts and eyes-and the step of a young Juno. The younger could be likened neither to goddess, queen, nor any thing that assumed or loved command. She was of earth's gentlest and finest mould-framed for all tender humanities, with the destiny of woman written on her meek brow. "Thou art born to love, to suffer, to obey,-to minister, and not to be ministered to." Well did she fulfil her mission! The girls were followed by a black servant in livery. The elder pressed forward as if impelled by some powerful motive, while her companion lagged behind,—sometimes chasing a young bird, then smelling the roses that peeped through the garden-paling; now stopping to pat a goodnatured mastiff, or caress a chubby child: many a one attracted her with its broad shining face and linsey-woolsey short-gown and petticoat, seated with the family group on the freshly-scoured stoops of the Dutch habitations that occurred at intervals on their way. Come, do come along, Bessie, you are stopping for every thing," said her companion, impatiently. Poor Bessie, with the keenest sensibility, had, what rarely accompanies it, a general susceptibility to external impressions,—one might have fancied she had an extra set of nerves. When the girls had nearly reached St. Paul's church, their attendant remonstrated,-" Miss Isabella, you are getting quite out to the fields-missis said you were only going a turn up the Broadway." "So I am, Jupe." "A pretty long turn," muttered Jupiter; and after proceeding a few paces further, he added, in a raised voice, "the sun is going down, Miss Isabella." "That was news at 12 o'clock, Jupiter." "But it really is nearly set now, Isabella,” interposed her companion Bessie. "Well, what if it is, Bessie ?—it is just the right time-Effie is always surest between sundown and dark." "Mercy, Isabella! you are not going to Effie's. It is horrid to go there after sundown-please Isabella, don't." Isabella only replied by a "pshaw, child!" and a laugh. Bessie mustered her moral courage (it required it all to oppose Isabella), and stopping short, said, "I am not sure it is right to go there at all." "There is no right nor wrong in the matter, Bessie, you are always splitting hairs." Notwithstanding her bold profession, Isabella paused, and with a tremulousness of voice that indicated she was not indifferent to the cardinal points in her path of morality, she added,-"why do you think it is not right, Bessie ?" "Because the Bible says, that sorcery, and divination, and every thing of that kind, is wicked." "Nonsense, child! that was in old times, you know." Isabella's evasion might have quieted a rationalist of the present day, but not Bessie, who had been bred in the strict school of New-England orthodoxy, and she replied, "What was right and wrong in old times, is right and wrong now, Isabella." "Don't preach, Bessie-I will venture all the harm of going to Effie's; and you may lay the sin at my door;" and with her usual independent, fearnaught air, she turned into a shady lane that led by a cross-cut to "Aunt Katy's garden",-a favourite resort of the citizens for rural recreations. The Chatham-street theatre has since occupied the same spot —that theatre is now a church. Isabella quickened her pace. Bessie followed most unwillingly. "Miss Belle," cried out Jupiter, "I must detest, in your ma's name, against your succeeding farther." "The tiresome old fool!" With this exclamation on her lips, Isabella turned round, and drawing her person up to the height of womanhood, she added, "I shall go just as far as I please, Jupe-follow me; if anybody is scolded it shall be me, not you. I wish mamma," she continued, pursuing her way, "would not send Jupe after us,-just as if we were two babies in leading-strings." "I would not go a step farther for the world, if he were not with us," said Bessie. "And pray, what good would he do us if there were danger-such a desperate coward as he is?" "He is a man, Isabella." "He has the form of one--Jupe," she called out (the spirit of mischief playing about her arch mouth), pointing to a slight elevation, called Gallows hill, where a gibbet was standing, “Jupe, is not that the place where they hung the poor creatures who were concerned in the negro-plot ?" 66 Yes, miss, sure it is the awful place:" and he |