who would deliver them up. The Cuff he speaks The young colonist told them all he knew of the numbers, the intentions and the plans of the party above; how many real Indians there were, and how many disguised Tories. "So far as I can guess, they have private instructions to remain on the flat rock, till they do all that can be done to secure one prisoner of great importance, a young lady of high note, who has made her escape and is hidden away in the clefts of the rocks. An officer of the British army is there, and exercises a great influence over the Mohawk; so that he seems to do just as he directs. How long this may remain, no one can conjecture; but to-morrow is to be the great and general hunt; what is called by the Indian a ring. One is to start from the camp now fixed, and spread three miles wide, each man to be within hearing of two; one before and another behind; then turning till all meet at the Kauterskill Falls. If unsuccessful they are spread again as wide, coming round to the dogpool; then rest for the day, and perhaps give up the chase. That is all I know. My advice is to track their circle and deliver their prisoners, raising the alarm so effectually, that they will retreat suddenly, and they will leave all they have got behind." Clarence, when asked, declined to answer, through delicacy, but really through inexperience in such modes of warfare. But he stated his willingness sincerely to follow any leader who might be appointed in an expedition that would deliver those two prisoners out of the hands of those cruel foes. ing he rolled out his torgue in something of the same way that a turtle puts out its head when boys place a hot coal upon its back, moving its point from side to side. All knew his weakness, or perhaps his strength; for though he was slow he was sure to act, and sure to speak to the point. "We are going to the mountains you say, to fight the Indians. Let one-half of our men be dressed in the disguise that Teunis wears, so that our party will mix with Brandt's in the circle, and let the other half be a reserve to attack their main camp, when we will find no difficulty in carrying off the booty. That is all." "Now, Grant, let us hear you," was the chief's word to that curious worthy; "see if you can keep that Scotch blood of yours cool. I declare I have more trouble with these hasty Highlanders, than with all the rest of my parish." This was said in a jocular vein, but the real intention leaked through, and Grant understood these hints sufficiently well to bridle his tongue in part. "'Deed, minister, I own that I am a wee thought hasty, when troubled wi' such a hot spur as Sandy McLead, or Billy Salisbury here; but mind you, that it's no the rattlin' filly that gangs o'er the brae first, and that smooth water runs deep, and the deil at the bottom o't sometimes. But minister though you be, I'll tell you this at ance, that neither I, nor any one of my company will ever put on false faces, like a set of silly hug-ma-na guissards; Jesuits, naething else; wha would pretend to be friends in the morning, then turn round before night and stick a gully-knife in a man's wame. I'm for being up and at it at ance, having a fair fecht and din we't. A true Indian is a real gentleman, we' a brown face o' his ain; but a man putting a feather in his cap, and marking his cheeks wi' a bit o' burnt cork, and calling himself a Mohawk chief, I despise him with a perfect scunner." "What say ye, Willy Salisbury, man?" The person addressed had a mischievous pleasure of tormenting the Scotchman, and though they were great friends, and on all important occasions usually agreed, could not resist the temptation of saying in reply: "Captain Van Vechen, we will hear your opinion concerning the best way of delivering the birds out of the snare of the fowler." The president here addressed a stout, slow-looking man, who "Grant has a great distaste to the Indian dress, had not said a word that any one heard that day. but the Highlanders are only of the same breed He opened his eyes like some one that is just of the wild men. Burgoyne called the black wakening out of a slumber; and instead of speak-watch, the English savages.' "Haud your tongue," said Grant, in his good-goyne. natured fury, "you Sassenach, if you do not want me to put this whittle up to the heft in your buttock. The kilt, let me tell you, as the minister said to me, is the garb of old Gaul, and that was the pride of old Rome. When your forefathers came doon to Scotland trying to enslave us, as they are trying to put the collar on the neck o' this kintry, they had just to look at the kilt, and aff they skilped as if a dirk was in their doup." Oh, yes!" said the tormentor, "that was at the race of Colloden; my father was there, and he declared that it was the finest thing he ever saw." "Except," said Grant, in something of hearty bitterness, "the race o' Prestonpans, where the English horsemen were the first to bring the news to Embro that they were beaten by these kilted men, armed wi' hooks an' scythes." "I think you are even now," said the Dominie, who knew Grant too well not to see that his blood was rising. "We must come to business. Let Captain Van Vechten have the charge of his plan, as every one can carry out their own schemes best. Captain Salisbury, you will take charge of the main body, and let Grant have the reserve. We will start all together an hour after sundown; going by the north side of Round Top; and be sure that not a whisper of this be dropped outside, for that wily snake has got his ears laid low to the ground already, and might take us in a lone place before we knew what was the matter. Let our Indian captain send his single scouts in all directions, to prevent surprises. Our rendezvous at an hour before sunrise, a mile above Hermit's Hollow, on the side of the North Mountain." “Losh keep us," said Grant, "he is nae doubt going doun to see that Warlock body in the glen. He is a fearless creature that Dominie minister of ours. That's the way o' the ministers in the highlans; they are acquaint with a' the witches in the kintra side." By this time the volunteers were all come in, mostly very young men, and those past middle life, as the able-bodied of the population were away in the army. A large draught had been made but recently for the army of the north, to follow up the victory of Saratoga, now crowned with complete success in the subjugation of Bur Had it been a hunting excursion, they on the ground that day could not have entered into the frolic with more zest and spirit. All present had been out night after night many times before this, chasing the bear and the panther. Scarcely a youth present but had killed some of the kinds common in the region, and was familiar with danger. Even the blacks, who are a stout, athletic race, many of them the genuine "guinea nigger," and all of them but one or two removes from the original African, were eager for the frolic; and some of them, for secret reasons, were jumping with joy. "Boys," the Dominie cried, at the full pitch of his voice, before we march let us seek the counsel of the Lord." To this no objection was expressed, either in word or by look. The good man's heart was brimful of devotion, so that he poured out his soul with all the ferrency of a saint -now in English and then in Dutch, and sometimes mixing the two languages in the same sentence; all hearts were melted into one stream. He alluded to the cloud that hung over the tabernacle in the wilderness, and to the safe guidance which the army of Israel had when the ark was in the van. "And now be not angry with us, O Lord, while we venture up into the mount. Let it not prove to us as the mountain of Gilboa did to Saul and Jonathan; for if thou goest not with us we cannot go up in peace." Breaking out into a transport, he forgot his English, or perhaps, he meant to rouse up the hearts of his sluggish people through the tongue they loved best to hear; he prayed, "De lieflykheit des Heerenonzes Godtszy, ons en bevestigt gy het weak onzen handen over ons; ja het werk onzer handen bevesgt dat," Amen. "Translate that last sentence to me," said Clarence, who was entranced by the earnestness of the petitioner; "it must be good, it was uttered with such spirit, and the effect of it is seen al around. I am not without some of the influence myself, though I am almost ignorant of the meaning." "It is good," said Teunis; "but the Dominie has a handsome way of saying things, which adds to their effect. The words at the close were, "Let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work of our hands establish thou it." "There comes the 'Yfvrow! there comes the 'Yfvrow!" was sounded all through the company. "We will hear something now." "You seem to be in a hurry," was the salutation of Mat Van Deusen to the lady of the parsonage. "You put me in mind of the big East Indiaman that my father says he saw, heavy loaded coming down the Scheldt, on her outward bound voyage." "Hurry, indeed, as you say, Mat Van Deusen, when a woman's life is to be left exposed to the savages, and worse men. Dominie Schuneman, where are you going?" said the jolly 'Yfvrow, "leaving me here in charge of a whole parish, white and black, and”— "These young darlings at your heels," was the filling up which the husband gave to the sentence begun by the careful wife. He knew that she would oppose his going, and had hidden it from her to the last moment; and now that he was all ready he had no objections to her bidding him good-by, while all the family followed for the same purpose. "Where are you going, Dominie?" she renewed her question, with a softer look. Her fine, full face glowed like a morning sun, and her tall, rather heavy form, in the excitement of the moment, had life throughout the whole, which gave it elasticity and motion, quick and graceful. The Dominie stood entranced, but not in the least hesitating, as she said energetically, "You will get your neck broken on some of these night expeditions; you will not escape the lead always that the wicked man has run for you. Can you not leave such work to them that should do it, and mind the business that properly belongs to you?" "'Yfvrow, Yfvrow! my work is to do good for God and to my country, as did the high priest of of old, who buckled the sword of Goliath on the patriotic David, and blessed him, sending him forth to battle." "Yaw, yaw! but he did not go himself, but stayed at home, attending upon his work in the tabernacle." "You have forgotten, 'Yfvrow, that he went before, carrying the ark in the sight of the people." "Dominie Schuneman," said the softened but proud wife, "we have not all been at Leyden, so I cannot argue with you in that style; but affection pleads in me more powerfully than learning." As the tear glistened in the eye of the wife and the mother, and there was not a man there who would have ventured to call the Dominie a coward had he remained at home-but the man of God VOL. VIII.-29 was made of sterner stuff than to yield up at such a juncture-he said: "All that you say is true, Maria; but there are other parents in the world besides us. There is Martinus and Anshela Schuyler crying after their dochter Elsie, the niece of our good friend and the general; and she is away into captivity somewhere in the mountains: and what would we say if our little dawty there was in the same place, and no one willing to risk a gun-shot for her life?" The good 'Yvfrow smiled, and looking through her tears, asked if he intended "to let all these men go off hungry to the hills ?" In a few minutes all the servants of the house were seen out on the road, loaded with all sorts of eatables and drinkables. These were spread out on the horse-blocks, on the pews inside the church, and even on the flat gravestones outside. The parting meal was made up of ham and eggs, sausages and roliches. Breads of all kinds of flour, and cakes without number; ole cake, Johnny cake, crawley cake, fritter cake, and buckwheat cake; with more of Dutch names than would be safe for any man to speak of. Grant said "these Dutch words always stretched his jaw so that he would as soon read the tenth chapter of Nehemiah, when he was hungry, as try to learn to speak them; unless," he added, "this wife o' the minister should be my schule master; for verily she is a perfect Abigail, wi' her loaves and her wine, and her hundred kinds o' cakes; but there is a kind she has na got yet, and that was ait cake; and as for the Dominie himself, he aye believed that there must be some Scotch bluid in his veins, he was sic a sensible body." The good dame having got over her fears, went from place to place, urging upon them all to eat; flinging down at the same time a slice of rye bread on this place, and a piece of pork on that; and not passing one by, unless she showed her kindness practically. A good word she had for all. When she came to Teunis, she urged him to eat, and be sure and tell Elsie that she would expect her to come down and spend a week with her at the parsonage, till the Hoogenhuisen was built again. Turning to Clarence, she put on the dignity of a duchess, hoping he would soon find his sister; and as this was an easy route to return by, it would be good to spend a night by the way after her fright. At the time she was saying this to him, she was pouring out a glass of her best Hollands for his particular use. "You will find us, sir," she said, "plain, truehearted folk, who know both how to treat a friend and a foe." . Clarence drank her health standing, with his hat in hand, wishing that "never worse than the present might be seen by him or his friends on any side of the sea." All were now ready to march agreeably to the order laid down. The Dominie and about ten of the ancients of the town were in the saddle. Tom, that slippery dog, had charge of what might be called a sumpter horse, since on its back was a large bag of all kinds of necessaries; and his master's cloak, which the careful 'Yvfrów had ordered to be strapped behind, so that he might have it ready for immediate use. Coming up close to his stirrupiron, she said: "Now, Dominie, see that you take good care of yourself, and tie this around your mouth to keep out the night air and the cauld dews; and mind me and the kinderen;" as she looked up in Here the equally warm-hearted wife lifted her head a little nearer to the saddle-girths, as the good man said, in his usual half-jesting way, when he wished to be familiar and fond: "Indeed, wife, I think were I laid in the clay there, my heart would throb back to you, were you to put your hand on the turf." A tear sparkled in the 'Yvfrow's eye; and as the men had moved off a little way, she embraced her lord most heartily, as he rode away from her sight, saying, with great solemnity, "the Lord be with thee." WOOED AND MARRIED. BY ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY, Author of "Nellie's Memories," "Wee Wifie," "Barbara Heathcote's Trial," and "Robert Ord's Atonement." CHAPTER XXIX. "SOME DAYS MUST BE DARK AND | chattering kind little commonplaces; Anna clasped DREARY." AND SO the weeks go on. Dym sickens and gets well, and broods silently over her sorrow, and spends long hours sitting in Will's chair with the little worn Bible in her lap, fingering the pages, but never reading, and looking with heavy lustreless eyes at the blazing streets outside. How long has she sat there? It is June sunshine now, they tell her; the flower-girls hold up bunches of roses and carnations as they pass. Will's plants droop their heads thirstily as Dick waters them; the linnets flutter and chirp in the hot area below; Kiddle-a-wink basks on a bit of sunny pavement, and the splash of water from Susan's washing-tub seems to drip endlessly on the flags outside; but nothing rouses Dym from her listlessness, or from that dreary fingering. Friends came about her in her trouble. Anna von Freiligrath sits in the little parlor for hours, turning the heel of a huge gray stocking, and her in her sturdy arms, and positively wept over her, when Dym came in her black dress with her passive white face. "Ach Himmel! how thou art changed, mien Liebling!" she bursts out, with a little effusion of grief and sympathy; but Anna can make nothing of her, neither can Mrs. Tressilian when she drives up in her fine carriage and tries to take Dym away with her. Dym thanks them all, they are very good to her, but she would rather stay where she is; she is not lonely, she tells them; she has Susan, and little Dick, and Kiddle-a-wink; there is nothing she wants except and here she breaks off and covers her face with her hand, and the tears splash down on her black dress-she only wants to be alone with him, so she sobs out, only alone with him. "But you will make yourself ill, my child," says Mrs. Tressilian, with motherly tones; she is quite moved from her usual apathy. "Mrs. Maynard, my good creature, she will make herself:ck again if she stops in this close room. What will my sister say, and all of them? And I have cheek resting against the soft turf; but at Susan's promised to look after her!" gentle hint she arose at once. "Oh, no, no! leave me with Susan; Susan will take care of me," returned the girl, wrapping the homely arms around her. When Mrs. Tressilian had driven away, she put up her hand and stroked Susan's face. "You will take me to see it to-day, dear, won't you? I am sure I am strong enough now." And Susan, who has not the heart to refuse her any thing, consents after a little demur. Dym ties on her bonnet wearily, and they go out into the sunshine, and Dick goes with them -Dick, whose little face grows every day paler and more shrunken, but who never complains that his crutches are too heavy for him, or that he coughs and catches his breath oddly at night. The people look after the girl as she passes along the streets with her homely companions. Something in the stricken white face, in the soft dark eyes, in the air of refinement that pervades her, seems to attract them. Dick shoulders his crutch and puts back his cap in quite a manful manner, as he hobbles along by Dym's side. "You will be sure to like it, it is so pretty; full of green trees and white crosses, and with little flower-beds where the children are; he used to like it too; he told me so." And Dick hunched his shoulders and winked away a tear or two. Yes, Dym liked it; once she and Will had walked there, and he had pointed out a little corner which he said was his favorite corner. There was a little clump of trees, and a seat, and a tiny lawn with a sweetbrier hedge; one or two children's graves were near it. They had laid him not far from this place. The wind had strewn some rose-leaves over the grass mound; a garland hung half withered on the slim cross. Anna Freiligrath and Edith had put it there; there was a little basket of roses and fresh moss lying on the turf. How quiet and sweet it was! Roses were blooming, green trees waved, a gleam of white crosses shone in the sunshine; overhead was a tender blue sky, birds were singing, more garlands waving. Some children came up with a pot of arum lilies, and looked pitifully at the girl sitting in the grass with the crippled boy beside her. "I am glad we came here, very glad," she said, when the sun had set, and Sun had spoken some word as to the lateness of the hour. She would have sat on there till nightfall, with her "Good-by, dear. I shall come again; it has done me good," Dick heard her whisper. She looked back once as the great gates swung on them; there lay the still garden, God's acre, as it is fitly called; through the trees shone a radiance and golden glory of clouds; the sun was sinking behind the little chapel; a pale crescent moon arose in the evening blue; a rose-laden wind blew across the dewy lawns; the paths had a white glitter of their own; a stone angel drooped its wings under an acacia-tree-some one had laid a great white lily at its feet. The gate clanged after them; before them was a dusty interminable road, people coming and going, whips cracking, jaded horses coming up the hill, a great red sun dazzling in the west. "I am glad I came," says Dym, looking out before her with grave unseeing eyes; "it has taken a little of the pain away to see it so quiet and restful. Do you know the words that kept recurring to my mind all the time? Let us go, that we may die with him.' Oh, Susan, I did so long to lie down and have done with it all!" "You mustn't feel that, dearie." "See how far that mile-stone is from as; we seem scarcely to move, and yet I suppose we shall reach it some time. How long is it since since I came to you that Saturday ?" "A month to-day. Richard was only saying so this morning." "A month-only four slow weeks? Oh, Susan, to think I am not twenty yet, and that I am longing to have done with it all!"' "There is the mile-stone," breaks in Dick, with a child's literal interpretation of facts. "But it is not my mile-stone, Dick," replies Dym, with a curious sad smile. How will she ever make them understand the sick loathing that has come upon her? Is she a "shadow in a world of shadows?" Are those really living people, with flesh and blood, with pains and aches and smiling faces, coming towards them out of the sunshine? Have any of them left a brother lying out on the hill yonder? When she is old and withered, will her heart wither too-will she cease to suffer? How long will she have to go on like this, with only Susan and little Dick for her companions-a month only? Have they forgotten. her at Mentone? Mrs. Chichester has only |