Some of the finest scenery in this country is found on the banks of the Hudson river; but the _Palisadoes_, as they are called, are not only beautiful, they are indeed one of the curiosities of nature. They consist of steep rocks, formed like a vast wall, and constituting the western bank of the river, from twelve to twenty miles above the city of New York. As you pass by in the steamboat, the Palisadoes cannot fail to excite your wonder. Though the rocks are so high as to seem almost like mountains, yet they are often so regular as to look like works of art. You can hardly persuade yourself, indeed, that they are not cut by the hand of man. If, however, you go upon these rocks, you will see that they are too vast a work for any other than an Almighty hand. A real Hero. A great inundation having taken place in the north of Italy, owing to an excessive fall of snow in the Alps, followed by a speedy thaw, the river Adige carried off a bridge near Verona, except the middle part, on which was the house of the toll-gatherer, or porter, I forget which, and who, with his whole family, thus remained imprisoned by the waves, and in momentary danger of destruction. They were discovered, stretching forth their hands, screaming and imploring succor, while fragments of the remaining arch were continually falling into the water. In this extreme danger, a nobleman who was present, held out a purse of one hundred sequins, as a reward to any adventurer who would take a boat, and deliver this unhappy family. But the risk was so great of being borne down by the rapidity of the stream, or being dashed against the fragments of the bridge, or of being crushed by the falling stones, that not one, in the vast number of spectators, had courage enough to attempt such an exploit. A peasant passing along was informed of the proposed reward. Immediately jumping into a boat, he, by strength of oars, gained the middle of the river, brought his boat under the pile, and the whole family safely descended by means of a rope. “Courage,” cried he; “now you are safe.” By a still more strenuous effort, and great strength of arm, he brought the family and boat to shore. “Brave fellow!” exclaimed the count, handing the purse to him; “here is the promised recompense.” “I shall never expose my life for money,” said the peasant. “My labor is a sufficient livelihood for myself, my wife and my children. Give the purse to this poor family, who have lost all!” A Revolutionary Story. CHAPTER I. A little to the west of the point where Connecticut river pours itself into Long Island Sound, lies a small, circular piece of land, called Duck Island. It is some two miles in circuit, and perhaps two miles from the shore, which here consists of the fine old town of Saybrook.