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146 [For the Southern Field and Fireside.] MY LETTER Silently, thoughtfully, breaking your seal, Dear little letter ! come hither to me; ■What will your close-written pages reveal ? No one is near—come here, let me see 1 Hist! For my heart would commune with ye, now, Pretty leaves! with mirth are ye gnshing ? Or place ye your hands on my heart and brow, My exquisite joyousness hushing? Over my soul flows the river of Love! Let us sit on its banks for awhile; Come, rest on my truth, as the innocent dove, On a breast that is free from all guile. Fondly, confidingly, stirred by no fear. Read t, and gaze cn your innermost heart, A music delicious pervading the air, And I dream—we're no longer apart! I glow, for I read of love true and deep,— The future's a rapturous dream of Bliss ! And tears of joy will, in spite of me, creep Down the cheek, that has felt his warm kiss. Tenderly, trustingly, speak to me still. Heed not these tears, they're bom of delight; Dear little missive! how strangely ye thrill With the errand you've come on to-night! ’Tiaall serene now! —come, rest thee awhile, Here, here, on my bosom, blessing and blest. Sent forth in love, and met with love's smile, Dote'from the heart! on my heart find thy rest! Stella. — [For the Southern Field and Fireside.] JACK HOPETON AND HIS FRIENDS OR, THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A GEORGIAN. BY WM. wTtURNEE. “ I witnessed the will myself, because the old man begged me to do it, being mightily down in the mouth, saying he wanted to do justice to somebody he had wronged, and all that. I went after the’lawyer, and fixed the whole matter, as Mr. Warlock wanted to keep his sons from know ing anything about I only signed as a witness, and didn t hear it read. The lawyer who wrote it may keep it a secret or not. I got the one I was told to get. My part of the business was done sly enough, and the boys were none the wiser for it The rest would have been done right too, if Mr. Warlock had let me bring the will to you. “ But I b’lieve he expected to do something else with it. Any how, he kept it awhile, and then give it to you with his own hands ; and a pretty kettle of fish he made of it. Jake "W ar lock is as cunning as any varmint, and all tho time you and his old daddy was talking, he was listening at the key-hole. “ Somehow, ever since you be friended me, and kept me out of jail, when nobody else would, I have felt like doing wnat I could to serve you. I know it is agin human natur to be grateful, but I don’t believe I am exactly human any way. £t least I can’t help liking you, for befriending " When I first heard ot 1 your difficulty with the Warlocks, I knew you were in some danger, for they are cowardly devils, and will shoot a man down without giving him a chance ; so I concluded to get thick with them, and find out all their plans. I knew they were going to at tack you and your son thatevtning, and was hid in a black-jack thicket, with my bead drawn on old Warlock, when you dropped him so sweetly. I didn’t show myself because I did'nt want them to know I was your friend. I knowed I could save you best by pretending to be their friend. “ Since the change in the old man, Jake and Joe have been thicker with me than ever; and that day you got the will, you hadn’t been gone from the house more than an hour, before I knowed all about it. “To-day, you and Mr. Harper here, and Jack and tliis Mr. Fitzwarren, went to see Mr. War lock, and ’twant long before Jake and Joe had hunted me up, and told me that the very fellow the old man had left half his property to** had been to their house, and his name was Fitzwar ren, and they wanted him put out of the way. They said they’d had euough of you, and be sides, if you were killed, their hatred toward you was so well known, it would raise the whole country against them. And more than that, killing you wouldn’t hinder the property from going to Fitzwarren. “ They said, though, that good luck had thrown the game right in the way; and they wanted to hire me to ‘ do the job,’ as they called it.— The damned, infernal hell-hounds 1 ’Twas all I could do to keep from settling tlteir hash on the spot, and I kept playing with the trigger of my rifle, and putting my hand on my knife handle. “Nol” and the tall form of the hunter seem ed to tower still higher as he spoke, “No ! There is blood on this hand; but it was shed, not for gold, but for revenge ! “ I say ’twas all I could do to keep from doing their job on the spot; but I choked down my feelings, and told them in a joking way : I’d see ’em damned first —that they might do their own dirty work. “ They said, then they’d do it themselves; so if the gentleman is your friend, you can do as you think best.’’ With these words, the long mortal shouldered his rifle to go. Hold on, Gaunt,’’said my father, “Is that all?” “ Yes.” “ And can’t you tell any more ?” “ No. What more would you have ?” “ I want to know the time when, and the place where, they intend to execute their hellish in tentions.’’ “ But all this I don’t know.” “ Can you give us no clue ?” “ None. I was afraid to question them too closely, for fear they’d suspect mo. I know this, though, that they intend to ‘ execute their hell ish intentions,’ as you call it, the first chance.” “ Can’t you manage to worm something out of them ?” “ P'raps I may, next time.” “In the meantime, Gaunt,” said I, “ for my sake, you will do what you can to keep harm away from Fitzwarren, who is my triend ?” “Es he’s your friend, yes. Otherwise, he might die, for me.” “ You are bitter, frieDd,” said Tom. “ Yes, and the man who passes through what I have, will always be gall itself.” “ Well, Gaunt,” said my father, since you promise so much, I shall be better satisfied.” “ I’ll watch the boys. They may bp too smart for me, but 'taint likely, you know, Mr. Hope ton.” “ Not very.” “It seems to me, though,” interrupted Tom, “ the plainest way, would be to get Mr. Gaunt to make his depositions before a magist r ate, aud have these men arrested.”, “ Yes," said Gaunt, “ but I’ve got a voice in the matter, and I’ll be damned if I go before any magistrate-—begging your pardon, Mr. Harper.” • “Ah well; that, of course, alters the case.” “ Gaunt is not lond of magistrates, Mr. Har TUB 80VSBSRX YXB&9 AND EJJMSSJUK. per,” explained my father; “ and that course would not put a stop to the matter any way." “ I think it would, father,” said I. “ Know ing the public to be aware of the threats they had made against Fitzwarren, they would have the same reason for not attacking him, that they have for not troubling you.” “ True ; but this same object can be effected in a different way. Gaunt, you make an ar rangement to meet Jake and Joe Warlock at some place where w'e will conceal ourselves, and hear them discuss their plans, and make their propositions to you. Then we will come out, tell them their designs are discovered,* and that if harm comes to Fitzwarren, they will surely be suspected. This, I think, will cause them to give up their fell purpose.” “ Well, sir,” answered Gaunt. “Come to the Foxhole Rock, the day after to-morrow —a half dozen of you—and hide in that little place you know of, about three o’clock in the evening.— I’ll tell the boys to meet me there between four and five o’clock, and then you can listen to your heart’s content. I tell you to come an hour be fore our time, so that Jake and Joe, won’t, by any chance, see you until you are ready.” “ We’ll go sooner than three, Gaunt. Two o’clock will find Mr. Harper, Charley Hampton. Jack, my overseer, and myself, safely housed. I must be sure that you won’t come till we ore ready for you.” “ All right. Good night, gentlemen.” “ But hold on 1” said Mr.. Hopeton. “ Stay all night.” “ Can’t do it; much obliged to you.” “ Where are you going, this time of night ?” “ That’s my business.” And the tall form of the hunter was soon out of sight, as he strode off through the dark grove. “ Now, Mr. Hopeton,” said Tom, “ can you, and will you tell me, who and what this queer chap is?” “ Briefly, then, for I am getting sleepy. lie is originally from Florida, and is the son of a Span iard who married an American girl. You can see the Spaniard in his appearance, and in a cer tain vindictiveness which he displays; but there is much good in him. It is true that when he hates, it is as a fiend, but (or a man he likes, he is ready to die. I befriended him, formerly, in various ways—too tedious to mention —and he is devoted to me. He is in very bad odor with most people, or with a great many, at least, and chooses to consider himself an outlaw. “ This is why he dislikes magistrates: but al though he once committed a deed which many would call murder, he is in no danger now, from tho law. He ranges from here to L county, having several little hiding places, but I can always find him, when I want his services. “ Brooding over his wrongs, and fancying he is hunted of men, he has become a little crazy— a monomaniac—though perfectly sane on all sub jects but one. This must satisfy your curiosity for to-night. At some other time, I will tell you more. Good night.” CHAPTER XIII. Horses were brought to the door on the day appointed by Gaunt, and those of us designed as witnesses, mounted them and rode oft', calling by the house of Jones and taking him with us. Right through the plantation we went, for a mile and a half, when we saw in the distance an immense swamp. Arrived at this, following the example of my father, we dismounted, and, put ting aside the bushes, led our horses somo dis tance into the swamp, and tied them, where they would be unseen by any one passing on the outside, even close to the spot where we enter ed! The ground, as far as we had gone, though soft, was by no means miry. “Now,’’Baid my father, as we emerged from the swamp, “we must take this path which runs along just outside the thicket.” “Won’t those fellows see our tracks?” in quired Tom Harper. “ No. They will come on the other side, and tie over there. They have no business on my premises.” The path led us on half a mile along a swamp which grew thicker as we proceeded, until it seemed to become absolutely impenetrable by any thing except a mink or a moccasin. “We must enter here,” said our guide, sud denly stopping. “Yes,” said Uncle Charley, looking at the al most solid barrier before him. “Yes, when the way has been cleared; but where is your corps of pioneers ?” “We don’t need any. Just follow my exam ple.” Saying which, my father, after looking care fully around to see if any one was observing us, stopped, and opening the thick undergrowth, crept on liis all-fours. We followed for about a score of paces, when suddenly our guide stood upright, and walked on in a plain, well-beaten path. “Well, Harry,” said Uncle Charley, again, “ I should as soon have thought of forcing away through a stone wall, as into this swamp.” “You see, though, Charley, it was very easily done.” “Yes; but how did you know where to come in ? Every thing looked alike to me outside.” “There is a difference, however.” “You must be lynx-eyed to discover it.” “ Not at aIL Mr. Harper, there, knows very well how a practiced eye sees things which an inexperienced one will never perceive. His frontier life has taught him that.” “ Well, roll on, and let’s see the end of it.” A brisk walk for a few hundred yards, follow ed this conversation. “ We must now change our course again,” said my father. “ But the path keeps straight on,” said Uncle Charley. “ I know it.” “ Well, in the name of Columbus, how are you going to navigate this blind swamp without path or compass?” “ Follow me, and you’ll see, Charley.” “Very well, Harry. We are anxious to pur sue this Arabian Night’s adventure. How ro mantic 1 Who would have thought that prosy old Hopeton could afford any thing of the sort?” Once more my father crept on his hauds and knees through the swamp, having turned at right angles to the path in which we had been walk ing; and again, at the end of a few paces, he rose up in a clear, plain track. Following this for some distance, the nature of the ground be gan to change, and soon became so miry that it would have been impossible to proceed, but for a very simple contrivance which is common where these swamps exist. At the beginning of the marsh a tree had been felled, and at the end of this one another, and another; so tliere was formed a continuous bridge on which we crossed the water and ooze. At the end of a quarter of a mile, the nature of the ground Changed once more; and this time abruptly, for wo stepped off our log-way on firm, solid earth. This latter way, a small, circular island, about an acre in extent, raised a great deal higher than the surrounding swamp. On this island grew forest trees of large size; and indeed it was exactly like any other upland.— Proceeding to the centre of this spot, we found under a group of trees a huge rock, or pile of rocks, rent into seams and fissures, over which grew wild vines and briars. “Here is our hiding place, gentlemen,” said my'father. “ Gaunt is to meet Jake and Joe Warlock at this rendezvous. They think they are well acquainted with the spot: and they do know something about it; but I will show you one thing of the existence of which they have no idea.” “ Wait, Harry,” exclaimed Uncle Charley. I can do it just as well as you can. ‘Open Sesa me I’ Sure enough, it doesn’t obey.” “ Try again, Charley.” “ No; the charm is gone, or I’ve forgotten the word. Go ahead yourself.” “You see this Mttle fissure in the rock?” “Yes.” “ Through it we are to hear the precious mach inations of these young beasts. But the en trance is on the ofiier side. Let’s walk round. • When we arrived on tli? opposite side, a thick vine was drawn away, disclosing an aperture, stopped by a roundjsh stone, about twice as large as a man’s body. This was pushed inward, and following our guide, who dragged himself through this hole, we found ourselves in a cavity of con siderable size, where we could stand upright.— When we had all passed in, the vine, which was an evergreen, was pulled back to its former po sition, completely hiding the door-way from any who might view the rock from the outside.— Light and air came in tlrough various cracks and apertures around, so that we were comfort able enough. “Now, gentlemen,” sail our conductor, once more, “ let us all get as mar this side as we can, conveniently; for the plotters will sit just out side here, and we must heir their conversation. “ And now,” he continied, as we all obeyed, “we must maintain perfeit silence; for there is no knowing how soon tho e follows will be here. They may come before the appointed time.” It is useless to detail tht circumstances which followed. Our plan was carried out successfully. After hearing enough from the Warlocks to crim inate them in a court of justice, we emerged, silently, from our concealnent, crept round, and were upon them before th«y were aware of our approach. Never were nen more astonished. They had no idea where *e had been hid. Few words were wasted. My father stated simply and clearly, what we had ieard, what would be tho consequences were tiey prosecuted—the fact that if Fitzwarren shcild be killed, there would now be witnesses te appear against them as the probable murderers It was an easy matter to exact from them a solemn promise that they vould pursue the mat ter no farther, on condition that wo would not institute proceedings agaiist them. We pre tended to consider Gaunt as an accomplice, and made him give the same promise that the others did. They left the island in a direction opposite that in which we came, loin Harper watched them as they filed off. “ Don’t they know any tl ing of tho other ap proaclf, Mr. Hopeton ?” he asked. “ No,” was the reply, “ this by which we came is my private entrance —con ing from my plan tation, you know. We are now standing near ly on a line between Warlock's plantation and mine. However, Gaunt kLows all about the way we came.” “ I can very readily imagine they don’t know your entrance',” said Uuncle Charley, “ for though I came in by it two hours ago, hang me if I can see where it is, now.” And, in truth, though I had been to tho spot a few times before, I, igyself, could not fix my eyes on tho exact place where wo had entered, the end of the log off’ which we had stepped, being completely hidden from view. “More than that, Harry,” resumed Uncle Charley, “ I don’t believe you yourself can find egress, and tho finale of our romantic adventure will be a blind struggle through mud and briars to get out of this infernal swamp.” “ Don’t be uneasy, my drawing-room friend,” was the reply. “ Trust to my guidance once more, and I will lead you safely out of this ‘ slough of despond,’ into which you have fallen.” Again we “ followed our leader, ’’ and were soon in the saddle and on our way home. The reader need hardly be told that Uncle Charley’s ignorance was affected; that he was wearing his mark that morning, as he always did the company of strangers. Never was there a truer man, in every sense of this word, than this fashionable old bachelor. He was capable of taking care of himself everywhere. CHAPTER XIV. Several merry weeks did we all spend at Hopeton. Various were the means to whicn we resorted for amusement; and among them all, flirtation seemed to be in most repute. Many of our guests were fashionable people, however, and they began to leave for the watering places. Os all the flirtations commenced, that between Uncle Charley and the queenly Mrs. Holmes, was the only one which seemed to result in any thing serious. My father and I watched these experienced stagers very closely, and. in spite of their self-control, thought we could discover evi dence of gonuine feeling in both. Indeed, as tho reader already knows, the gentleman had made a confession; the lady, however, strove hard to conceal the real state of her heart. But they left Hopeton without coming to any understanding. “ I don’t know whether Mrs. Holmes is so heartless as she is represented to be,” said my father, “ but I have watched her narrowly, and I am satisfied of one thing; that she either loves Charley or hates him. She is not indifferent to ward him. Which is it, Mrs. Hopeton? You women know each other best.” “In this instance, though,” said my mother, “ I am very much at a loss myself.” “ Mrs. Holmes did not make you her confi dante, then?” “ No. And if she had, do you suppose I would tell you anything? Besides, if she had told me that she loved Charley, how would I know that she was not wearing meshes for him, knowing how intimate he is with us?” “ True. However, I suppose you used your powers of observation?” “Yes, but have come to no conclusion. I can’t help thinking, though, that Charley and Mrs. Holmes might love each other, did they not entertain a mutual fear, and a doubt of each other’s sincerity.” “I think you have formed a correct judgment, Mrs. Hopeton.” “Indeed, Mr. Hopeton, you know Charley has acknowledged his love. I rather think, as I have already said, that Mrs. Holmes would re turn his affection, could she be persuaded he was not trying to get that threatened advan tage.” “Well, they are suffering now for their former folly. Let them pass. They may meet at Phil lipi—id. est. Cotoosa.” “ And may understand each other, or may not. If they do not, they can blame nobody but themselves.” Soon Hopeton was entirely deserted by its guests. The fashionables went to fashionable resorts. Fitzwarren also went —no one knew where. «I don’t know, myself,’ 1 said he, “ where I’ll go. Perhaps to some of your watering places— perhaps to Canada. But I shall be in my rooms at the University, at the opening of next term. I hope you will come promptly, Hopeton.” “You may look for me on the first day of the term,” was my reply, as I shook his hand. Tom Harper went home. My parents wished to go up the country for a few weeks, and pro posed for me to go with them. “As you will be gone but a short time,” said I, “ and Tom Harper has asked me to visit him, now, I think, is the most favorable time for me to do so.” Accordingly, while Mr. and Mrs. Hopeton went among the fashionables, I spent a most agreeaDle fortnight with my companion of the prairies. At the end of that time, I returned home, and the rest of the vacation I spent with my best friends —my parents. October again found me leading the life of a student —sometimes merry, sometimes sad; sometimes quiet and studious, occasionally rat tling and boisterous. I continued, however, to devote most of my lime to books, and made tolerably fair progress. The next two or three years I passed pretty much as I had begun —studying at the University, during term time, and generally going home during vacation. Fitzwarren and I became more and more inti mate, and even attached to each other; though, still, a certain reserve manifested itself when ever our conversation took a turn which would seem to require him to speak of himself. Indeed, he would not say anything with regard to his former history, but always managed, coldly and calmly, to introduce other topics. Generally he spent part of vacation with me; and sometimes we travelled through the mountains of Georgia. I even enticed him to Cotoosa, once, but with great difficulty. When not with me, he either stayed at the University, or made excursions of which he never afterwards spoke, and concern ing which I, together with eveiy one else, was entirely ignorant. And so the tempus fugited during my collegiate course. CHAPTER XV. In East Florida, near enough the coast to catch the pleasant sea-breeze which forms so de lightful a feature of climate, stood Bentwold, the residence of Horace Bentley, Esq. At a considerable distance from the house, ran a pub lic road, immediately on the side of which a spacious gateway opened into the grounds of the estate. Just inside this gate commenced a broad, smooth carriage road, winding gracefully •through a singularly beautiful piece of forest, composed almost entirely of evergreens. From the public road the house was plainly discernible, being on a considerable elevation; but after passing through the gateway, the visitor could no longer see it, hidden as it was by the sudden turnings and meanderings of the road. On each side of the carriage-way was a line of noble live-oaks and magnificent pines, grown to an enormous size; and the long, outstretched arms and mossy trunks of the former contrasted in a striking manner with the tall, straight shafts and eorflpact foliage of the latter. The forest*etretched away as far as tho eye could reach, on either hand, and was intersected by numerous cleanly-kept roads, over which one could easily imagine how delightful it would be to walk or ride. The whole of the wood had | been entirely cleared of undergrowth, and pre sented one vast pleasure-ground, so clean, that even a fashionably-attired lady might wander through it without the danger of forming “ en tangling alliances ” with briers or brushwood. At some distance from the public highway, a sudden turn in the carriage road brought one in full front view of the house, standing on a beau tiful and gently rising eminence. Here the character of the growth began to change; and near the building it partook of the nature of shrubbery, but such shrubbery as, in a colder climate, would bo called trees. Here, indeed, commenced a grove fit .for the habitation of Houris. Not all the gorgeous magnificence of oriental scenery could excel that scattered by Nature’s lavish hand, in this obscure corner of the New World. The imagination might in vain exhaust itself in the effort to conceive ot a scene more sur passingly lovely than that here displayed. And with It art had comparatively little to do. The magnolia and the orange had long grown, aud but little more was required than to thin them out, aud prune them of some of their too luxu riant growth. The priceless shrubs and flowers, elsewhere nursed in hot-houses, here mingled their intoxi cating perfumes, flourishing in the open air, with a luxuriance of growth, a brilliancy of color, and a deliciousness of odor, unknown to the sickly productions of forcing beds. In parts of this grove, the trees were so scat tered that it was easy to wander among them in all directions, always protected from the rays of the sun by the locked branches overhead. Again there were groups and lines of varied form, and occasionally, clumps of beantiful vines and thick growing shrubs. There were also vistas, and far-reaching openings, through which one might catch glimpses of distant objects; the heavy forest —the white sandy beach, or the bright water, with a boat or sail on its rippling bosom. Scattered through tho whole, were numerous rustic seats and tables, where one might sit and read, or write, or dream, according to the whim of the moment. Pavilions and summer-houses peeped out from canoplies of vines and trees ; their dazzling white forming a charming con trast with the dark green of the surrounding fo liage. But why attempt to picture such a scene ? Suffice it to say, the grounds around Bentwold were such as excellent taste, great wealth, and a situation peculiarly favored by Nature could produce. The house itself was large, and imposing in appearance. Entirely around it ran a colonnade, the columns of which were wreathed and fes tooned all around with vines bearing sweet scented flowers. The roof of this colonnade was continuous with that of the house, thus being above the windows, even of the last story, completely shading them, and the numerous lit tle balconies which were hung out at various points. The windows were cut down to the floor, and capable of being thrown open from top to bot tom, ass ording free ingress to the glorious breezes which swept through the magnificent groves around the house, and wafted sweet odors into the rooms. In building this house, the object had been to make it as comfortable and pleasant, and at the same time as handsome as could bo, consis tently with the two first named objects ; and, although it may have had, what pedantic archi tects would term architectural defects, it was appropriate to the climate in which it was sit uated, and for that reason, in good taste. Around tho sides, and in the rear of tho building, the same taste had been displayed ; and the most gorgeous flowers combined with the most beautiful shrubbery, to afford a contin ual feast to the eye ; while, standing in the col- onnade, one could see, afar off, the snow white beach, and the bright and bounding water, with the white-crested waves chasing each other and dashing upon the sandy shore. Here, too, the breeze came fresh and strong, cooling the blood, fanning the temples, and wan toning with the hair —sighing through the or ange trees, and scattering their blossoms in at the doors and windows of Bentwold. It was an hour to sunset, and a group, consist ing of Mr. Bentlv, Mrs. Bently, and their three handsome children, was collected at the rear of the house, where they could catch the sea breeze, and be sheltered from the burning rays which had been pouring down all day. [to be continued.] —■——m •[Written for the Field and Fireside.] AURORA BOREALIS. The following description of this beautiful ce lestial phenomenon, which has recently, by its extraordinary brilliancy, been astonishing and delighting beholders throughout our whole con tinent, and even as far South as Cuba, is from the pen of a lady of our city, who was so fortu nate as to be, at that time, on a visit to the White Mountains of New Hampshire. The public is already familiar with the productions of her pen, and highly appreciates them. Acci" dent alone has prevented our receiving this con tribution, weeks ago. “On the evening of the 28th of August, the heavens presented a magnificent panorama of dissolving views, of such surpassing beauty and brilliancy, that the most gifted artist would ever strive in vain to convey with his pencil an ade quate idea of the scene. The sun had set in the golden glory of an autumnal sky, casting a rich purple glow over the summit of each hoary mountain, and leaving the dark forests of pine and fir, gioomy in the grandeur of approaching twilight. Only one light cloud, floating upward, reflected so brightly the last gilded ray, that it seemed like the recording angel, returning with the deeds of the departing day ere the pearly gates had closed, “ for there is no night there”! Scarcely had the scene faded into twilight, before a black arch appears in the east, and the hand of Deity soon causes “ light to spring out of the darkness.” So quickly does a rich red glow of mist overspread the tranquil sky, that we could but think of the sudden conflagration of some sister world, of which our planet was for a moment to be a witnesg. But while wo gaze, Cassiopeia, with queenly dignity, steps forth from the majestic veil of rosy light, followed by her starry train. Then di rectly in the North, emerges from the deep ob scurity the constellation of Ursa Major: but its bright stars are paled by the glorious apparition all around. It was almost a relief to weleomo that polar star, for it is in the visible heavens, an emblem of the Star of Bethlehem, to the eye of faith; and while bewildered we could exclaim, “ When I consider the heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained, what is man, that thou art mindful of him, or the son of man, that thou visitest him,” the tumult subsides into the glorious assurance to which the listening ear of childhood may give heed, “My Father made them all 1” Now from east to west appear majestic pillars of light, and across them rainbow shapes of va ried hue play in rapid succession, and no longer did we marvel how the “pillar of fire by night,” guided the wandering Israelite in the desert. Pilgrims of another age, we stood before them now, and were eye-witnesses of the glory; but we lay the pen aside, feeling that we could never do justice to the remembrance of that scene. At six o’clock the thermometer stood at 60°, and it fell rapidly until at ten it stood at 48°. The next morning there was a heavy frost, and the weather has continued remarkably cool. On Friday night our chambers were again lighted at midnight by the red glare of the Au rora Borealis, and already the death of the sum mer flowers, and the rustling tread of autumn, heard upon the green turf, even by the clear brook Side, with the crimson branch of the maple, are silent monitors to point us to our 1 Southern fields and distant firesides.’ ” Advice to young Ladies. —In his excellent address to the graduating class of St. Mary’s Hall, at Burlington, last month, Bishop Doane spoke as follows: “ The times are out of joint. Corruption stalks in our high places. Licentiousness has, well nigh, lost its shame. Infidelity is bold and brazen faced. For these things your sex is greatly answerable. Women are not true to themselves. They wink at vice. They mako a compromise with worldliness. They tolerate irreligion. And they are victims of their own unfaithfulness. The stronger sex look up, in best things, to the weak er. They have all had mothers. They have all had sisters. If women were but true to God, true to themselves, they would have strength from Him to hold the world in check. No woman ever fell but by her own consent. As at the first, woman is the tempter. There is . no man, that has not passed into a brute, to do as tigers do, that can resist the matchless majesty of a resolved woman. And stronger than all law, stronger than anything but God, would be the power of women to put down rude ness, and lay the bridlo upon license. But women are slaves to dress. Women are willing to be flattered. Women are careless of their companionship. Woman are unscrupulous in their amusements. Young women set up for themselves. They look upon their parents as, old fashioned. They are impatient of domestic restraints. They are averse to domestic ooenr pations. They vote their homes a bore. They congregate away from its control. They im dulge in unreasonable hours, to meet the other sex more than half way. They permit the ap proaches of familiarity. They tempt tho hidden devil of their nature. They forget their Bibles.. They neglect their prayer books. They are women of fashion. They are women of the world. What else they are, is rather shaped by opportunity than by themselves. In this way, the female atmosphere is stripped of its. freshness and its fragrace. The woman, is noi longer what she was made ta.be —‘a help meet ’ for the man. And man ceases to be what God designed him to be—her partner, her prop, and her protector. —MB - -*»♦• • »l Education in the United States. —The number of colleges in this country is 122; theo logical seminaries, 48; law schools, 17 ; medical schools, 40. The number of students in these institutions respectively, is: in college, 14,573; law, 1.117; theological, 1,379; medical, 4,322. The professors number : in colleges, 1,062; in law schools, 38; medical, 208; theological, 137. Total of professors; 1,606; of studeutSr 21,791. —[American Almanac;.