ase to tell
The rosary I here have numbered o'er;
And bright-haired Hope will lend a gladdened ear,
And Love will free him from the grasp of Fear,
And Gorgon critics, while the tale they hear,
Shall dew their stony glances with a tear,
If I but catch one echo from your spell:--
And so farewell,--a grateful, sad farewell!

CHAPTER IV.

A SHORT CHAPTER.--CHICAGO AGAIN.--MORRIS BIRKBECK.

Chicago had become interesting to me now, that I knew it as the
portal to so fair a scene. I had become interested in the land, in
the people, and looked sorrowfully on the lake on which I must soon
embark, to leave behind what I had just begun to enjoy.

Now was the time to see the lake. The July moon was near its full, and
night after night it rose in a cloudless sky above this majestic sea.
The heat was excessive, so that there was no enjoyment of life, except
in the night; but then the air was of that delicious temperature
worthy of orange-groves. However, they were not wanted;--nothing was,
as that full light fell on the faintly rippling waters, which then
seemed, boundless.

The most picturesque objects to be seen from Chicago on the inland
side were the lines of Hoosier wagons. These rude farmers, the large
first product of the soil, travel leisurely along, sleeping in their
wagons by night, eating only what they bring with them. In the town
they observe the same plan, and trouble no luxurious hotel for board
and lodging. Here they look like foreign peasantry, and contrast well
with the many Germans, Dutch, and Irish. In the country it is very
pretty to see them prepared to "camp out" at night, their horses
taken out of harness, and they lounging under the trees, enjoying the
evening meal.

On the lake-side it is fine to see the great boats come panting in
from their rapid and marvellous journey. Especially at night the
motion of their lights is very majestic.

When the favorite boats, the Great Western and Illinois, are going
out, the town is thronged with, people from the South and farther
West, to go in them. These moonlight nights I would hear the French
rippling and fluttering familiarly amid the rude ups and downs of the
Hoosier dialect.

At the hotel table were daily to be seen new faces, and new stories
to be learned. And any one who has a large acquaintance may be pretty
sure of meeting some of them here in the course of a few days.

At Chicago I read again Philip Van Artevelde, and cert