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. another, restless and disturbed, till it plunges into a deep pool below, not even there to find the repose which it seeks, but boils up again, and at last flows smoothly on, bearing upon its surface, like some fancifully embroidered lace work, most elegant patterns, wrought in the white foam that the rapids have engendered. And water lilies, of the purest white, border the margin, filling up the picture in most perfect harmony.

But all this, though somewhat necessary for understanding the little story, that, by your leave, I am going to tell, has yet not much more connexion with it, than has the title which is prefixed to this article. It is called the Old Forge, from the circumstance of there having been formerly an establishment for smelting and forging iron on these rapids, which has long since disappeared, leaving no traces of its existence but a name.

Some half mile to the east of the Old Forge is Megonco hill, so called by the tribe of Indians that inhabited its western slope, and the level space which intervened between that and the river. There are traces of their village still remaining, which the plough-share, and the frequent tread of man and beast, have not been able wholly to eradicate. When that village was in its prime there dwelt in it a sweet Indian maid, with the long raven locks-with the rounded and sprightly form,-in short, with all that enchanting, natural beauty, which has so often been attributed to the daughters of that unfortunate people. I say often, for many have written of them, and have drawn from kindly hearts sympathy for their wrongs, and admiration of the many fine qualities they have often exhibited. And well it is, that while whole nations of them have vanished from the earth, and the places that they called their own know them not, and shall know them no more forever-that some are found willing to do justice to the virtues they possessed, and to the beauties which they inherited from nature. Loisma, from a child, was a lover of solitude. Strange that it should have been so ; that, with no light but that which glowed on the face of nature ; with none to call forth or to guide her thoughts, they should have spontaneously sprung up ; that her spirit should have warmed itself into a brighter being ; that with no history of the past or knowledge of the future, she should have learned that life among the crowd by no means afforded as pure pleasure as was to be found in communing with her own soul, and with the great Author of all things through his handy works. The village in which she was born was her world ; she knew no other, nor cared even for that ; so she mingled not in the rude pleasures of her people, but wandered by herself that she might think. The Old Forge was her favorite resort. Perhaps it was because she felt a resemblance in the restless waters that never ceased to flow to " the divinity that stirred within herself." And there was one rock which she loved

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above all others, and by its side was a little whirling pool, where the water circled round and round, and strove, but vainly, to free itself that it might bound along as the rest toward its ocean home, a fit emblem of the workings of her own soul, which, surrounded by a wall of darkness, struggled continually to burst its barriers, that it might soar away to the great source whence it had its origin. When Loisma was about seventeen, neither a girl nor yet a woman, she was wooed by a young man of the tribe, one of the bravest warriors of that bold people. And he wooed not in vain, for ere long she felt the silken cords of love twining themselves about her heart, and "young hopes began to nestle there," and a new source of the purest happiness sprung up within her breast. And now she looked upon all things as with another eye, and when she walked out, with Arhongo by her side, she seemed more than ever charmed with the beauties around and above her, and beneath her feet. And then she would go and sit on her favorite rock, while her lover brought her flowers, of which she made wreaths and garlands, and decked herself out like some queen of May. But her bliss could not last-it was too perfect. The war whoop sounded from Megonco, and its terrible notes filled that lovely valley, and following the windings of the river, reached the ear of Loisma at the Forge, where she was sitting with her betrothed. And Arhongo heard it, and sprang up with glistening eyes, for to him war was as sweet a pastime as love, and honor and glory pleaded more strongly than the tearful eyes and sighing bosom of the fond girl who clung to him as her hope. But the cry again rang through the wild woods, and the young warrior rushed forth to the battle, the foremost among the brave. Days passed, and the chosen band returned from pursuing the track of their enemies, loaded with bloody trophies of their valor. The great War Spirit had given them conquest, and in triumph they returned, and the loud shouts of victory were echoed back from the side of that hill which now lifts its crest so quietly to the sun. But Loisma heard them not, for her lover's voice was not mingled with the rest. Arhongo was too brave, and he had gone to the land of Spirits, leaving her comfortless and alone. And now the darkness fell over that young spirit, and she who was so blithe and joyful but a week before, so full of hope and love, shrank within herself, and bowed like the tender reed before the blast. She made none acquainted with her grief, but it told its own tale as her form wasted away, and her cheek grew thin and pale, and her step was no longer light as it was wont to be, but grew slow and feeble, till at last she could hardly creep to the whirling waters of the Old Forge, which ran on as gaily as ever, though all appeared changed to her.