with linsey-wolsey. Whenever I go to town with venison, I bring back a few nice things for her in return; and I shouldn't wonder now, if we could look into some dark corner of her closet, if we wouldn't find even some tea, whigs as we all are. How is it, mother? Is the tea there? And did I buy it for you, or did it come from this saucy tory, Katie.

"We get along, too, as well as the rest, so far as I can see," continued Mr. Herman; "At least I often think so when I'm in Philadelphy. We haven't as much money, to

be sure; but then we've no vessels at sea, like Mr. Morris and others there I know, and can sleep soundly, in spite of storms and British frigates. Then we've fresher air than they can have, let them build as big houses as they will. I never cross the ferry but I don't for awhile think the air's pisened, for what with the vegetables rotting in the market, and the sewers that empty on the river front, the whole place smells dreadfully, leastways to a man from the woods. Before the war broke out, some of my acquaintances there, rich men, you know, used to come down here to hunt awhile, once a year. It was a sight to see 'em eat," he continued, with a low, chuckling laugh. "I've known 'em, after a tramp in the woods all day, when there's been no luck, sit down to a piece of cold pork, that they wouldn't look on at home, and eat it as if it had been the best saddle that was ever sarved up. Then, to see 'em drink our water! When they've had a hot run in the woods, they'd kneel right down by the side of the road, and lap up like a dog the water running from a cedar-swamp; and they've told me they never drank Madeery, not Port, that was half as good."

"Yours is the true philosophy," said Major Gordon, "and the world would be all the better if there were more who followed it. I confess," he continued, turning to Kate, "that there is an independence and content about it, which strongly tempts a soldier."

"Yet yours is a grand profession," said Uncle Lawrence, "at least in times like these. The trade of a soldier is the meanest alive; think of the Hessians coming over to murder at so much a day; but when a man takes up arms for his country, and to drive out an invader, he's doing a brave deed." And the old man's eye gleamed. "I was out in the Trenton campaign myself, for that was a time when even age couldn't excuse staying at home, unless to them as were tired of liberty. I've one son now in the army, and another will 'list as soon as he's big enough, if it's the Lord's will," and he looked up reverently, "that the war should last that long."

In similar conversation nearly an hour passed, by which time the rain ceased, and the sun shone out again brightly: and Kate now rose to go. As she stood at the door, while the horses were being brought around, the birds sang merrily in the orchard, and the rain-drops sparkled in the grass.

"That's a music I never get tired of," said Uncle Lawrence. "It beats the best playing I ever heerd on the spinet, even Katie's here," and his face relaxed as he looked at her. "Then those spangles in the grass are handsomer than any diamonds. I've heerd that, after one of them grand parties in town, where the music plays and jewels sparkle, that people go home worn out and often ill-humored; but I thank God that I never listen to the birds, or see the rain-drops shine in this way, without feeling glad."

When Major Gordon, having placed Kate in the saddle, offered his hand to the old man, preparatory to mounting, Uncle Lawrence said

"If you stay in our parts long, Major, and would like to hunt, I'll go out with you a'most any time. I think we may be certain of a fine doe, or even a buck, if you'd "rather."

Thanking his host heartily for the offer, which was evi

dently a sincere one, Major Gordon bowed to the good dame, and cantered after Kate.

"What a grand specimen of an honest, simple-hearted old Nestor that is," he said, addressing his companion, as soon as they were out of hearing.

"I knew you would like him," answered Kate, highly pleased. "And he has taken a fancy to you, or he wouldn't - have asked you to hunt with him. Father always said, in

any difficulty, 'I wonder what Uncle Lawrence thinks,' for though he has read few books, except his Bible, he has ten times the wisdom of many a lettered man. I don't know what the neighborhood would do without Uncle Lawrence. He is the general peace-maker; yet no man can be firmer, when a great principle is at stake."

"He has the air of one who could become a martyr, if need were, even to dying at the stake."

"And he would," said Kate, her fine eyes glistening with enthusiasm, for in this her own character sympathized with that of the old man. "He told you he was out in the Trenton campaign, but he was too modest to add that he walked to head-quarters in little more than twenty-four hours. There are few men over sixty years of age, who

could or would have done that."

The conversation continued till they parted at Sweetwater, for Major Gordon had to return to the Forks to dinner, and could not accept Mrs. Warren's invitation to alight.

CHAPTER XIII.

KATE.

With thee conversing, I forget all time;
All seasons and their change.-Milton.

THIS was the beginning of an acquaintance between Major Gordon and the heiress of Sweetwater, which soon ripened into intimacy. Of the dangers of such a friendship, to the gentleman at least, he was in part ignorantly, in part willfully blind. Bewitched by the grace, wit and beauty of Kate, not less than by the sweetness of her disposition as displayed in a thousand home ways, Major Gordon abandoned himself to the pleasure of her society, forgetting the barrier which fortune had placed between them, in making him poor and a patriot, but Kate an heiress and a royalist. Yet, to do him full justice, he did not think of the passion that was overmastering him, or the probabilities of its sucLove was a new thing to him. The law first, and the camp afterwards, had been his mistress hitherto. He little suspected, therefore, how necessary Kate was becoming to his happiness. He did not know he was in love. But an irresistible fascination drew him to Sweetwater, at first almost daily, and finally punctually every morning. Often, indeed, he left the Forks, intending to ride elsewhere; but invariably he found himself in Kate's presence; and at last he ceased even to invent excuses, such as bringing her a bunch of wild-flowers, a book, or a bit of news, as originally had been his custom. When away from her he felt a void, which only her presence satisfied. He rode, walked, boated on the lake, chatted or read with her, ac

cess.

9*

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cordingly, as the weather permitted, or circumstances allowed..

Mrs. Warren was almost invariably present when these interviews took place at Sweetwater. She generally sat knitting, in a corner, occasionally joining in the conversation, and always managing on such occasions, to bring in her cousin, Lord Danville. Her connexion with that nobleman was a source of pride indescribable to her. It elevated her and the whole Aylesford family, in her opinion, into an entirely different sphere from that of the provincials about her. She felt annoyed, therefore, at the frequency of Major Gordon's visits, which promised an intimacy that, some day, she thought might become troublesome. He was very

pleasant as a temporary acquaintance, she reasoned, but having no peer for a cousin, quite too plebeian for a friend. Her manner accordingly grew less cordial daily to their visitor, though it never ceased to be civil; nor did the good dame neglect to attire herself in all her state-she "owed it to her family," she said, "even when not to her guests." Meantime, also, she studiously avoided making a parade of her royalist sympathies, professing, as at the first interview, to be entirely neutral, and little dreaming that her guest saw through her poorly acted part, and amused himself secretly at her weakness and self-confidence.

Kate, all this while, was as gay, as frank, and as bewitching as ever. Sometimes she was so full of spirits, that serious conversation was impossible. On such occasions, she made a jest of everything, especially of love; for often, in reading the poets with her guest, that fertile theme came up. As merry and willful girls will, she delighted to play at fence with this mysterious passion, which she secretly felt would some day be her master. How she made sport of the meekness of Desdemona; of the fainting of Rosalind; of poor, deserted Imogen's melancholy. "She would never break her heart for a man, not she," she would say, glancing