reappeared and seemed again buried in contemplating the beauty of the scenery. Ere long another and a stronger blast swept through the trees, with a more threatening voice—bearing upon its wings a few withered leaves. One of these fell close to the person of the marmot. The intimation was not to be mistaken. He gently descended to the horizontal attitude, crawled towards the unwelcome courier of decay, applied his nose to it for a moment, then, wheeling rapidly round, plunged suddenly into his hole and sent the dirt flying into the air by the rapid action of his fore-paws. I turned to the Exile of Connecticut, who had also watched this interesting scene, and remarked: “You propose to go to the prairies! It is summer with you yet, but I see that the leaves are beginning to turn: there are a few grey hairs gathering about your brow. Is it not time to choose your last resting place? to dig your last burrow?” He felt the force of the query, and remained in thought for several minutes. “If it were not for the next instalment, I think I should stay where I am till the neighborhood could grow up around us, and Mary could go to church and little John to school. But—I don’t know!—I think I shall have to sell out and _flit_ in the spring, if I could find a purchaser! I’m young yet; and that little beast did not throw the dirt so high in the spring.” Poor fellow! I hear that the ground reverted to the company two years afterwards; but whether he sold out and _flitted_ with a full purse, or started on foot with his Mary and the children, and an axe on his shoulder, I have never heard. ----- [3] It were ungrateful in the writer, not to acknowledge the marked courtesy and kindness received from several friends during a short residence at Hartford, and if tempted to speak a little severely of the manners of the place, there is much more pleasure in the thought, that a town, honored by the residence of Mrs. Sigourney, Mr. Wordsworth, the liberal patron of the _fine arts_, and the model of _fine feeling_, and Rev. Mr. Gualladet, the devoted philanthropist, can endure some censure upon its general hospitality. On a more suitable occasion, I should be most happy to extend this list, partly, because it would be no more than just to do so, “And partly that bright names will hallow song!” * * * * * SONNET.