It was the afternoon of a warm, refulgent day in October that Julius Luxmore came in sight of the loveliest of Isles. It lay like some jewel of rich mosaic on the heaving bosom of the bay. The girdle of woods, that skirted its shores were just beginning to turn, and on the northern and western side were tinged with a ruddy, crimson color; the low, descending sun, striking full upon this hue kindled it up into a flame-like refulgence,—a glorious, indestructible conflagration. Contrasting with this was the green of the grass and shrubberies in the interior of the Isle, that still retained its spring-like verdure. Central in this oasis of verdancy and bloom, stood the white buildings of the Island mansion and out-houses. In his ignorance of the usual landing-place, Julius Luxmore could not decide toward which point of the Island beach to direct his course. At length, however, he determined to come to anchor, and go out in his little skiff to reconnoitre the coast, and perhaps to make his first visit to the mansion house. He accordingly gave orders to drop the anchor, and to let down the skiff. And when these commands were fulfilled, having made a careful toilet, he entered the little boat, and alone, with his single oar, struck out toward the Isle. On a nearer approach this gem of the sea grew, if possible, still brighter and more beautiful. The calm repose and crystal clearness of the water that kissed its shores, reflected as in a mirror the rich refulgent foliage that girdled them. Julius Luxmore pushed his boat up close under the overhanging branches, and so in the deep refreshing shadows, proceeded to row around the Isle in search of some convenient landing-place. Presently he came to a tiny rock-bound islet of pellucid depth, that might have been the grotto of the Naiad Queen, or the bath of beauty for all the sea-nymphs. And, oh, Orpheus! what sounds are these that break the silence like the shiver of a thousand silver bells? It is a voice of entrancing melody—a sweet, rich, elastic, bird-like voice, caroling a jubilant, exultant air, the words of which are lost in the rapture of the notes. To enjoy this delightful song without disturbing the singer, Julius Luxmore pushed his boat up under the shelter of an overhanging alder tree, where he remained concealed in the deep obscurity. Presently the song ceased, and the cessation was accompanied by the sound of a plunge into the still water of the inlet. He peered out from his hiding-place, but for a few moments saw nothing except the widening circle of ripples where the water had been disturbed—and then—oh, Amphitrite, and all the Naiads! What was it? Was it a mermaid or was it a mortal?