“‘Who are they?’ he asked, eagerly leaning forward, but then the stern Potawissa drew him back, as he replied in a low voice, ‘It matters not, it is enough that they cannot be aught to thee. Look not on their fatal beauty, but let that lonely grave warn thee of danger. It was hopeless love for a pale face like theirs, that induced thy mother’s brother to forsake the tribe that idolized him; to lead a life of solitude, and at last to perish for her sake. And now he sleeps not with the bones of his fathers, and the talk of the white man is heard by his grave, instead of the bold death song of our chiefs. Nay, thou art gazing still; turn from them boy,’ and suddenly drawing him round, he held him firmly until the fair group had retired. A faint shriek from Oskwena drew his attention. He saw the attendants were filling up the grave, and hastened to remove her sinking form. In a few minutes the crowd had dispersed, the chiefs again entered their boats, and young Egerton, with his father, alone remained on the silent shore. “The family remained but a short time in Maryland, for the health of Rosalie had sustained a shock from which it never recovered. She faded before the agonized view of her husband and son, and died shortly after their return to England. As one of their descendants, I have long wished to visit the scene of their sorrows, and in doing so, I have formed a friendship which, believe me, dear Frank, will always be cherished in my heart. The kind hospitality of your good uncle made me forget I was a stranger, and though we must part in a few days, time or distance will never erase the remembrance of my American friends.” ----- [2] A fact. * * * * * SONNETS. BY HENRY B. HIRST. GERTRUDE. There is a sweet expression in thy face, My gentle one! leading the thoughts away From earthliness, and this vile orb of clay,— Bidding my spirit in its yearnings trace Something immortal in the beauties there! I do not worship loveliness—but look On woman’s face, as on a speaking book, Where God hath stamped his image clear and fair! And thine is one so radiant of him, So calm and pure, one cannot fail to see Such purity of soul portrayed in thee, That other faces by thy side grow dim, And, bowing down unto thy brighter worth, I deem thee one too fair and chaste for earth! IANTHE.