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A gruff voice recalled me. "Hallo, Mister: any body hurt?' It was the b'boy who had come up with us.

'No body; but our breeching 's broke. Have you got any thing to mend it with?

My off-handed manner just suited the b'hoy, on whom any superfluous politeness would have been thrown away. He produced a bit of cord, and helped me to splice up the harness. You may be sure I drove homo pretty carefully.

old Charley is nearly covered up. We shall soon see the last of him. That is the worst of having a pet animal; their life is so small a fraction of yours, that the separation comes just as you are fairly attached to them. I was once assured by an acquaintance of Dr. Lingard, that the historian's decease had been visibly accelerated by the death of his favorite dog. How many griefs poor Clara has had as her King Charleses, Blenheims, &c., have been carried off by the various ills to which doghood, especially small doghood, is heir! Baby is the wisest of us; he has set up a parro quet, which (if he does n't pull its head off meantime) will probably outlive him twice over. But Charley did n't die of old age; he was only fourteen — hardly past his prime. One summer I had to go over the water, and the gardener in whose charge he had been left, not having Tom's consideration for the equine family, allowed him to catch the heaves. Next winter we nursed him our best, and thought him fast recovering, when — this morning he died. There : they have thrown in the last shovel-ful, and smoothed the top over. He was a good friend. I feel the tears in my eyes.

Hallo, old boy! good-morning!' I start up and see a white bat and a brown horse and a yellow gig glancing through the trees between us and the stable-yard. It is Bleecker, who has come to lunch with us and drink some of his own wine. I go to meet him, and Franky toddles after me. “Mamma, I shall die and be buried in the orchard with old Charley, and then papa will come and cry over me.'

Di avertite omen.

A L W AY 8 CHE E R F U L.

Always cheerful ? Yes, my friend;

This my motto from the first: That misfortune needs must mend When the bad is at the worst.

| If the merry hint she slight,

Still I'll carol as I go:
'Empty pockets are so light,

By my faith, 'tis better so l'

Know you not the arc that lies

Deepest crushed into the clay Is the sole one sure to rise,

Let the wheel roll as it may !

As for love, why fret or mope

If one charmer prove unkind!
Surely 't were more wise to hope

All the sex not quite so blind.

VT.

When my questioned purse is dumb, If my merits find them so,

Shall I whimper? nay, but sing : This shall make me lighter grieve: Let the jingling goddess come;

CELEBS, what a world of woe Now there's room for all she'll bring.'! Adam found in finding Eve!' New York, 1853.

W BB

SONG OF THE PIONE E R'S SON.

BY JOHN TROMAX.

I was born in the depth of the primitive wood;

I have heard the wild beasts of the dark jungle roar;
But the hills are now bald where the wilderness stood:

Haunts of my youth, I behold you no more!

The new verdant landscapes are fair as the day,

And the smooth plain it fears not the sweep of the blast; Yet pensively oft through its borders I stray,

And sigh for the grandeur of scenes that are past

I have heard the tornado rush forth in its might,

When the great forest heaved like the waves of the sea;
I have seen the storm burst on the steep mountain-height,,

And the thunder-bolt shiver the giant pine-tree.

I have spurred my wild horse through the high swollen flood;

I have shot the fleet stag from my log-cabin door;
But the hills are now bald where the wilderness stood:

Haunts of my youth, I behold you no more!

How art thou shorn of the crest of thy pride,

Old Shongolee bluff! could the axe and the flame
And the plough-share thus ravage thy oak-mantled side!

Thy once baughty form is so humbled and tame!

Yet oft may thy waying fields bloom as to-day,

Though thy primeval glory no longer be seen :
For my forefathers cleared thy dark forests away,

And my forefathers robed thee with mantles of green

Weary yet glad were the days of their toil,

Till gummoned the weapons of battle to wield,
When, leaving the harvest to cumber the soil,

They met the bold Briton on Chippewaugh field.

Anon the loud shout of their triumph was heard

High over the din of Niagara's roar;
And aye, as the sweet days of quiet recurred,

Stainless and proud were the laurels they wore.

Then green be their tomb, which their own hands adorned,

Old Shongolee hill, with its orchard so gay;
And proud be the children of heroes who scorned

The lance of the foeman on Chippewaugh's day.

FROM BOSTON TO NEW-YORK THIRTY YEARS AGO.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE KNICKERBOCKER.

In these wandering days, when every body is giving to the public accounts of journeys by land and sea, and when the demand for books of travels and voyages is so great, it has occurred to me to write my travels, or rather my travel; and, as the events of my one journey combine much that is startling and interesting in far more extended tours, I venture to hope that you may not find a short record of them unworthy a place in your Magazine.

And now, my dear Sir, do not imagine that I am about to give you a dismal account of a sea-voyage, with the usual details of shipwreck and starvation, perhaps even with a touch of cannibalism; or a diary of a European tour, with long-drawn, tedious descriptions of pictures and places. My voyage was as short as it was disastrous; my hair-breadth escapes' and 'moving accidents by flood,' were all confined to the space of a single night, and the scene of my experiences was a steam-boat on Long-Island Sound.

It was in the year 1827 that I made my first and last trial of the delights of steam boat travelling. I was in ill health at the time, and when my physician prescribed a journey as the surest means of recovering my strength, I determined to go to New-York, where I had business to transact, and thus 'kill two birds with one stone. There were not so many ways of going to New York then as now; but I took the most approved route, going from Boston to Providence in the stage-coach, and thence taking the steam-boat through the Sound to New-York. I selected the last week in July for my trip, counting upon glorious weather at that time; but l'homme propose, et Dieu dispose;' and when the morning for my departure came, the sun perversely hid bis face behind lowering clouds, and a chill wind blew from the east, breathing far more of January than of July. But my trunk was packed; I had taken leave of my wife and children, and, as I had secured an inside seat in the stage, I feared no ill effects to my health from this seemingly inauspicious beginning to my journey. In these days of universal travel it is impossible to conceive how great an event a journey was then, especially to a stay-at-home, country lawyer, like myself. Now, when men pack their carpet-bags in half an hour for a voyage across the Atlantic, I fear it will hardly be believed that the mere packing of my trunk, for a few days' absence, cost my wife a week's anxious thought and labor. And, indeed, her kind heart left no emergency unprovided for. A small apothecary's shop occupied one-half of the leathern receptacle; while clothes adapted to every variety of weather filled the other. Her thoughtful kindness left no wish ungratified. But this is not the time or place to laud the virtues of my wife, though she is the best wife in the world, and I do n't care who knows it. And now behold me fairly launched for my journey, on the aforesaid cold, rainy morning, feeling rather stiff and unnatural in a new suit of clothes, with a terribly glossy, high-crowned, black bat, and boots uncomfortably small; all which splendors had been procured to honor this most important occasion.

The ride to Providence was not so disagreeable as I had expected. To be sure, there were two babies in the coach, whose anxious mothers would not allow a breath of fresh air to be admitted on any consideration, which motherly care caused me a violent head-ache; but then they were good, quiet children; and if one of them did pound my back and shoulders, for a large portion of the way, with a piece of soft molasses ginger-bread, (alas ! for my new coat!) and if the other did make a table of my new hat (which I had thoughtlessly taken off to relieve my aching head, and deposited on my knees) for its large piece of melting candy, still I was a father myself, and I loved children too well to take offence at what their mothers called their pretty little ways. Still I must acknowledge that it was a tedious day, with the eternal drip, drip of the rain on the roof of the coach, and the damp, close air within. Even the 'pretty little ways' grew tiresome as their owners grew cross and sleepy; and when we arrived in Providence, and I contrasted the comfortless hospitality of an hotel with my own cheerful home, and tossed about during the weary hours of the night in vain seeking relief for my pain, I vowed never again to leave that home in search of health, or such very doubtful pleasure as my first day's journey bad brought me.

I was awakened early the next morning by the pelting of the rain against my windows and the melancholy howling of the wind in the chimney. Truly, it was a pleasant July morning on which to set forth for my voyage, (as I called it.) But I kept a steadfast heart, and after breakfast drove down to the wharf, where the steam-boat lay tossing about like a cockle-shell. It was the original old Fulton. She was much smaller than the steam-boats of the present day; but she looked, to my ignorant eyes-oh! so monstrous, and so dangerous ! The steadfast heart failed as I saw the black smoke pouring from her chimneys, and heard the sharp hiss of the escaping steam; and, for a moment, I hesitated whether I sbould not order my trunk back, run on shore, and make the best of my way home. Like Launcelot Gobbo in the play, I stood and dubitated. • Budge,' quoth cowardly fear at my elbow. “Budge not,' quoth the spice of bravery in my heart, to say nothing of the sense of shame at such an ignominious ending to my journey. But when at last, like Launcelot, I had decided to use my legs, take the start, and run away,' the last bell bad rung, the plank was lifted, the boat pushed off, and my fate as a hero was determined.

But not very heroic did I feel as I listened to a conversation which was going on between the captain of the boat and some of the passengers, as to the probability of the boat's being able to reach New-York, with a head-wind, and in such a storm.

* It does pipe pretty luud,' said the captain, 'but I guess she'll wear through ; at any rate, as soon as I think there is any real danger, I will turn back.' This was cold comfort for a poor disheartened Jard-lubber like myself, but I presently forgot all minor woes in the unutterable misery of sea sickness. As I was lying helpless in my berth, prostrated by this demon of the sea, I was roused by a tremendous crash over-head. Thinkiog that my last moinent bad come, I rushed upon deck, and found that - large wood pile had lost its balance and fallen over, thereby frightening

three horses who were on board, so that they bad broken loose from their fastenings, and were careering madly about the deck. As I appeared upon the scene to inquire the cause of the noise, I narrowly escaped being knocked down and trampled upon by one of the furious animals; so I quickly retreated, grimly smiling to myself at the thought that, of all the dangers I had pictured to myself as likely to occur during my journey, that of being run over by wild horses, on board a steam-boat, had not been on the list.

But now the storm increased in fury; the little boat pitched and tumbled and creaked and groaned ; and once more I ventured on deck, thinking that I would rather have a fair chance for my life in the open sea than be drowned, like a dog, in my berth. But there the scene was even more fearful, and I cursed my folly for ever leaving my peaceful home to trust my life in such a pandemonium as this. I found an old sea-captain from P- in anxious expostulation with the steam-boat's captain. 'I do n't know much about your cooking-stove craft,' said be, ‘but I do know that a vessel as is a vessel could not live five minutes longer against such a wind and with such a sea as this; so put about, man, if you would not have the deaths of all these people to answer for. In great agony of mind I waited for the captain's answer.. Just then the boat gave a tremendous lurch, which seemed to strain every timber. 'I believe you are right,' he said, as I thought, absolutely turning pale, and directly after, I saw him talking with the inan at the wheel. Presently we swung slowly round, and, with the speed of lightning, cut back through the water on our way to Newport. There we passed a dreary enough day; but toward evening the wind changed, the rain ceased, blue sky appeared, and soon we were again steaming merrily over the water in the light of a most gorgeous sun-set. Now, then, I understand the delights of steain-, boat travelling,' I thought, as I sat on the upper deck watching the rosy light upon the sea, and the purple receding shore, as we sped along through the sparkling waves. And I own that it was with a slight touch of pride and self-satisfaction that I thought I knew its dangers too; and I pictured to myself the wonder and horror of my wife and children, when, returning a travelled man, I should describe to them the raging waves, and the groaning boat, and all the terrors of the furious storm through which I had passed. But the waves yet felt the effects of the storm, and I soon felt the effect of the waves; and before the red twilight had left the west, I once more descended to my berth, and soon fell into pleasant dreams of home. I think I could not have been asleep more than five minutes when I was awakened by the cry of 'Fire! fire!' Now, then, my end had surely come, for we were out of sight of land, and no vessel was near. When I reached the deck, I found the wood-work round the engine all on fire, and the men working with all their might to extinguish it. I joined the line, and in ten minutes the danger was over. Grateful for my deliverance from this most terrible of deaths, once more I threw myself faint and exhausted into my berth, now become any thing but a bed of roses to me. “What next?' I said, half laughing a kind of hysteric laugh ; and the words were hardly out of my mouth, when ‘bang, bang, bang,' just under my head, sent me once more on deck, where I saw the light on Fisher's Island blazing just above us, and heard from the captain that we had struck upon a rock, owing to the carelessness or

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