allotted time of Philip Oswald's stay; but
when that had expired, he was persuaded to delay his departure for yet
another week. He had been drawn, by accompanying his mother in her
farewell visits, once more within the vortex of society, and his manly
independence and energy, his knowledge of what was to his companions a
new world, and his spirit-stirring descriptions of its varied beauty and
inexhaustible fertility, made him more the fashion than he had ever
been. He had often met Caroline Danby--now Mrs. Randall--and Mary more
than once delicately turned her eyes away from her cousin's face, lest
she should read there somewhat of chagrin as Mr. Randall, with his
meaningless face and dapper-looking form--insignificant in all save the
reputation of being the wealthiest banker in Wall-street, and possessing
the most elegant house and furniture, the best appointed equipage, and
the handsomest wife in the city--stood beside Philip Oswald with

"----a form indeed
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man,"

and a face radiant with intelligence, while circled by an attentive
auditory of that which was noblest and best in their world, his eloquent
enthusiasm made them hear the rushing waters, see the boundless
prairies, and feel for a time all the wild freedom of the untamed West.
Such enthusiasm was gladly welcomed as a breeze in the still air, a
ruffle in the stagnant waters of fashionable life.

Within two or three days of their intended departure, Mrs. Oswald
proposed to Philip that they should visit a friend residing near Fort
Lee, and invited Mary to accompany them. Among the acquaintances whom
they found on board was an invalid lady, who could not bear the fresh
air upon deck; and Mary, pitying her loneliness and seclusion, remained
for awhile conversing with her in the cabin. Mrs. Oswald and Philip were
on deck, and near them was a young and giddy girl, to whose care a
mother had intrusted a bold, active, joyous infant, seemingly about
eight months old.

"That is a dangerous position for so lively a child," said Philip Oswald
to the young nurse, as he saw her place him on the side of the boat; "he
may spring from your arms overboard."

With that foolish tempting of the danger pointed out by another, which
we sometimes see even in women, the girl removed her arms from around
the child, sustaining only a slight hold of its frock. At this moment
the flag o