and cawed, and the squirrels chattered at the scene. Then the thrush gave out a new piece, and ran over it with his sweet and gurgling, yet full and far flowing voice. Then the robins and sparrows followed; then the bluebirds in the pasture, and blackbirds in the meadow, took the key, and the song, and brought up their part; then the chipsquirrels lent a musical chirp, and the crows and jays all joined in a chorus of full harmony, to which even the frogs and toads, as with cymbals, harps, and castinets, kept time. But I weary you, ladies, with this high-flying speech. I meant to say I should like to walk in this wood in May or June, and hear the thrush with all his performers give a chorus like the ones I have heard.”

"I think I'd rather hear the Crow Family, or the Alabama Brothers," cried Miss Mumby. "Pardon, Miss Winthrop, but this enthusiasm for the woods and birds is what I call a sickly sentimentality. I don't want to become an owl or a wood-chuck myself, for the sake of the woods. It would be abominable to one who has lived long in the city."

Amelia Dorlon sang a song. Mr. Derby had read “Salathiel," and he repeated two or three passages which he thought were fine. They sounded well as he repeated them, but I thought they needed earnestness and simplicity to make them perfect. He remarked that the scenery around us and the picture language of Salathiel made him fancy we were in Palestine, and were looking down on the rolling Jordan. He then quoted a description of the Hudson highlands from Irving, and though I had never read "Salathiel," nor the " Sketch-Book," at that time, I

was most delighted with Irving, and desired the repetition of one passage that seemed rather to paint than describe the scene where we were. Then Anna Logan sang a sweet song, and the woods seemed to dwell on the echoes, and repeat them to the hills. Then we listened awhile to the roar of the waterfall, and started for home. Mr. Derby quoted a description of the moon and stars from Byron's Siege of Corinth, which he thought a finer picture than Pope painted on the etching of Homer; and we stepped into the old river road, and took our way through Central-street to Chestnut Hill. The clock struck nine as we entered the house, and Mr. Derby bade us good night, and in half an hour we were all abed, and most of us asleep.

I slept but little that night. Amelia kept me talking till past eleven, and after that, until nearly four, my mind was too busy with thoughts, and my heart with emotions, to sleep. I liked Merrimack far better than I anticipated. True, most of the people looked very strange to me, and 1 thought I should never get accustomed to their ways. And a manufacturing city too, how different in every thing from still and stately old Salem, where there were no manufacturing interests, and commercial enterprise passed into affluence and rest, a quarter of a century ago! But I was excited by so much animation as I found there. I was pleased with most of my new acquaintances, and especially pleased with my evening walk. I shut my eyes, and the river seemed to roll through my vision; the banks and woods re-appeared and glowed with a placid splendor; and the moon, "the cold round moon," as the pas

sage from the poet went, was still "shining deeply

down," and the stars,

"those isles of light,

So wildly, spiritually bright,"

The names of those new

cast sympathetic glances on me. authors lingered like notes of pleasant music in my ears, and I hoped that I might soon possess their works. Anna Logan's song still brimmed my soul with melody, and I had no room for Amelia's song or conversation. Amelia dropped to sleep at last, and I reviewed all my acquaintances, charmed with the sweet Irish girl; suited with Miss Mumby's intentions, and thinking well enough of Mr. Derby. The future then opened in long and sunny views before me, and on the last scene there rose a city and a mill; in that city I selected my home, and in that mill I found myself weaving the snowy webs of a well-spun life.

After that, my mind wandered back to Salem, and to Becket court. Ma'm Carey's, Phillips' Wharf, Buxtons' and the Juniper, in tender and tearful walks and interviews, thrilled with a few strong throbs of home-sickness. I was with Jesse in Wenham, and finally with Walter in Danvers; till my mind floated off on the tranquil waves of sleep.

X.

I HAD not caught a glimpse of one real dream, nor taken an hour's refreshing slumber, before the bells rang us from our beds. I forgot my uneasiness, in the excitement of the morning, and was one of the first at the table We had a sumptuous breakfast, the very savor of which sent delicious odors through the house, but excitement destroyed my appetite, and I only took a slice of toast and a cup of coffee. Breakfast over, we went to the mill, and I had to remark the light steps and merry hearts with which the girls all tripped away to their looms.

I commenced my first day's work in the mill. I found myself in company with Milly and Anna, and this kept me in heart, and gave me hope. I also made two new acquaintances. There was a stranger in our department, whom they introduced as Miss Newman. Agnes Newman was from Quinnebaug. She was perhaps a little over twenty. She owed to fine health her fairest outward charms, which I thought at first were indifferent. She was bashful and silent. Flashes of crimson came to her modest face on the slightest occasion, and she could hardly address another, or be addressed, without a blush. And yet, as I caught her keen black eye, I saw there were

firmness and independence in her character, which trial and conflict would develop; that she had that fund of merry humor which is possessed by so many of our still country girls that she was shrewd and deep-sighted ; and while a city exquisite might patronize her, and pity her simplicity, and tell her not to be afraid of city people, for they were no better or more refined than country people; she would read his whole character at a glance, take gay amusement from his patronage and pity, and then cast him aside as she would an officious poodle who might try to lick the freckies from her cheeks. I knew from the first that I should like Agnes Newman, be the better for her society, and better still if I could have her friendship. Her father was a farmer, and she left her mother, a brother and sister at home about a year before, and took her present situation in the Lafayette Mill. She left a fair and happy home, as I afterwards found, but her father had seen misfortunes, and she came to Merrimack to obtain what she could of the means of removing a mortgage from his farm. There was a grace in the steps and touches of her labor, and I thought if I could acquire her skill and ease in two years, it would be doing well enough for poor Mercy Winthrop.

I said to Agnes that I was pleased to make her acquaintance, and said it with a feeling which she must have seen in my expression; but she was so bashful that she only blushed, and replied, that she hoped I would like my company.

I met the superintendent in the office, and had not worked half an hour before he came to our corner, and