I BROUGHT out some volumes of Shakspeare with me, and remembering the prohibition of reading plays promulgated the former winter, was much at a loss how to proceed. I thought rightly that it was owing to a temporary fit of spleen. But then I knew my father was, like all military men, tenacious of his authority, and would possibly continue it merely because he had once said so. I recollected that he said he would have no plays brought to the house; and that I read them unchecked at madame’s, who was my model in all things. It so happened that the river had been higher than usual that spring, and in consequence, exhibited a succession of very amusing scenes. The settlers, whose increase above towards Stillwater, had been, for three years past, incredibly great, set up saw-mills on every stream, for the purpose of turning to account the fine timber which they cleared in great quantities off the new lands. The planks they drew in sledges to the side of the great river; and when the season arrived that swelled the stream to its greatest height, a whole neighbourhood assembled, and made their joint stock into a large raft, which was floated down the river with a man or two on it, who with long poles were always ready to steer it clear of those islands or shallows which might impede its course. There is something serenely majestic in the easy progress of those large bodies on the full stream of this copious river. Sometimes one sees a whole family transported on this simple conveyance; the mother calmly spinning, the children sporting about her, and the father fishing on one end, and watching its safety at the same time. These rafts were taken down to Albany and put on board vessels there for conveyance to New-York; sometimes, however, it happened that, as they proceeded very slowly, dry weather came on by the time they reached the Flats, and it became impossible to carry them further; in that case they were deposited in great triangular piles opposite our door. One of these, which was larger than ordinary, I selected for a reading closet. There I safely lodged my Shakspeare; and there in my play hours I went to read it undisturbed, with the advantage of fresh air, a cool shade, and a full view of the road on one side, and a beautiful river on the other. While I enjoyed undisturbed privacy, I had the prohibition full in my mind, but thought I should keep to the spirit of it by only reading the historical plays, comforting myself that they were true. These I read over and over with pleasure ever new; it was quite in my way, for I was familiarly acquainted with the English history; now, indeed, I began to relish Shakspeare, and to be astonished at my former blindness to his beauties. The contention of the rival roses occupied all my thoughts, and broke my rest. “Wind-changing Warwick” did not change oftener than I; but at length my compassion for holy Henry, and hatred to Richard, fixed me a Lancastrian. I began to