Belle Riviere. He and a thousand more never
came back again. Every man of them was murdered as he fell. You know
the Indian way, Mr. Trail?" And here the Captain passed his hand rapidly
round his head. "Horrible! ain't it, sir? horrible! He was a fine young
man, the very picture of this one; only his hair was black, which is now
hanging in a bloody Indian wigwam. He was often and often on board of
the Young Rachel, and would have his chests of books broke open on deck
before they was landed. He was a shy and silent young gent: not like
this one, which was the merriest, wildest young fellow, full of his
songs and fun. He took on dreadful at the news; went to his bed, had
that fever which lays so many of 'em by the heels along that swampy
Potomac, but he's got better on the voyage: the voyage makes every one
better; and, in course, the young gentleman can't be for ever a-crying
after a brother who dies and leaves him a great fortune. Ever since we
sighted Ireland he has been quite gay and happy, only he would go off at
times, when he was most merry, saying, 'I wish my dearest Georgy
could enjoy this here sight along with me, and when you mentioned
the t'other's name, you see, he couldn't stand it.'" And the honest
Captain's own eyes filled with tears, as he turned and looked towards
the object of his compassion.

Mr. Trail assumed a lugubrious countenance befitting the tragic
compliment with which he prepared to greet the young Virginian; but the
latter answered him very curtly, declined his offers of hospitality, and
only stayed in Mr. Trail's house long enough to drink a glass of wine
and to take up a sum of money of which he stood in need. But he and
Captain Franks parted on the very warmest terms, and all the little crew
of the Young Rachel cheered from the ship's side as their passenger left
it.

Again and again Harry Warrington and his brother had pored over the
English map, and determined upon the course which they should take
upon arriving at Home. All Americans who love the old country--and what
gently-nurtured man or woman of Anglo-Saxon race does not?--have ere
this rehearsed their English travels, and visited in fancy the spots
with which their hopes, their parents' fond stories, their friends'
descriptions, have rendered them familiar. There are few things to me
more affecting in the history of the quarrel which divided the two great
nations than the recurrence of that word Home, as used by the younger
tow