The old man ceased,—big tears rolled down his furrowed face, and his frame shook with emotion. I saw the remembrance of the past was too much for him, and I sat by his side in silence. I subsequently heard his sad tale from others, and then learned the manner in which Kate had been carried off. The old man’s companion was right—she had been made a prisoner by a predatory band of Indians, who had followed Butler, and deserted him directly after the massacre. Beautiful as the Valley of the Wyoming is, I never have seen it, from that day to this, without thinking of the sad fate of Kate Beverly. * * * * * WE WERE BOYS TOGETHER. BY GEORGE P. MORRIS. We were boys together, And never can forget, The school-house on the heather, In childhood where we met: Nor the green home to memory dear, Its sorrows or its joys, Which called the transient smile or tear, When you and I were boys. We were youths together, And castles built in air! Your heart was like a feather, While mine was dash’d with care! To you came wealth with manhood’s prime, To me it brought alloys Ne’er dreamed of in the primrose time When you and I were boys. We’re old men together— The friends we loved of yore, Like leaves of autumn weather, Are gone for evermore!— How blest to age the impulse given, The hope time ne’er destroys, Which led our thoughts from earth to heaven, When you and I were boys. * * * * * LAME FOR LIFE, OR LESLIE PIERPOINT. A TALE, IN TWO PARTS. BY PROFESSOR J. H. INGRAHAM, AUTHOR OF “LAFITTE,” “KYD,” “THE QUADROONE,” ETC. PART II. “Love knows no rank—beauty Is aristocracy—birth, lineage and blood.” “Love ne’er broke a heart, love ne’er could mend.” It was on a cold, bleak evening in autumn, that Leslie Pierpoint, as described in Part First of our tale, sat in his arm-chair in his comfortable library, with his feet buried in a thick rug of Angola fleece; a cheerful fire glowing in the grate; a round stand with the tea-tray at his left elbow; and a large table covered with magazines, papers, books, &c. &c., on his right hand. He was alone. The rich, crimson curtains drawn closely across the deep windows with the comfortable air of the whole room, gave indication that the occupant loved his ease, and was that evening disposed to enjoy it.