tree, and hewing a slab for the lid. This melancholy event was a peculiar and distressing affliction to the little band of pioneers, and its effects on them would have been paralyzing, but that the firmness and energy exhibited by the widow, who now found her exertions necessary to sustain the rest, restored the confidence and hope which had nearly been extinguished by the loss of their leader. Although the principal sufferer by the dispensation, she would not for a moment listen favorably to the proposition made to abandon the enterprise. When an invitation came from friends in Pennsylvania, for herself and daughters to spend the winter, both she and her eldest daughter, Elizabeth, declined; knowing how necessary was their presence to keep up the spirits of the little community, and that their departure would discourage many who had intended coming to join them in their forest home. The magnanimity of this resolution can only be appreciated in view of the hardships which they knew it would be their lot to share.

In the fall, another small vessel was built for use on the American side of the lake, and two of our pioneers were sent to Canada to procure provisions for the winter. They dispatched four barrels of flour by this vessel, and waited some weeks for the other, the captain of which had agreed to bring provisions up the lake for them. Disappointed in this expectation, and hearing nothing of the vessel, they were compelled to return, when the season was far advanced, without supplies; finding, on their way home, the remains of the vessel, which had been wrecked near Erie. They found, also, that the vessel which had on board the flour they had purchased, had been driven into the basin, and was too fast locked in ice to proceed. They were obliged therefore to remain till the ice became so strong that the flour could be removed in sleds. They at length arrived at home just in time to bring relief from absolute want to the settlers, who had lived six weeks without any kind of breadstuffs, substituting salt beef and turnips, the supply of which was just exhausted. Some grain had been raised at Elk Creek, in Pennsylvania, but there were no mills in that neighborhood, and the wheat procured there afterwards was brought in hand-sleds on the ice to Harpersfield, and ground in a hand-mill somewhat larger than a coffee-mill, which the pioneers had brought with them. By keeping this constantly in operation, enough flour was obtained for daily use, mingled, of course, with the bran, from which they had no means of separating it, but having a relish and sweetness which such necessity only could impart to the coarsest food. There were no deer in the country at that time; but large droves of elk, the flesh of which resembled coarse beef, were frequently seen. The flesh of the bears was much more oily, and really very palatable; raccoons also were abundant, and easily obtained, and were much used by the settlers; although, in after years of plenty,

they lost all relish for "coon meat." Hickory nuts were also abundant that year, and were found a valuable article of food when other provisions failed. It is worthy of notice that, in the severest straits to which the settlers were reduced, the utmost harmony and friendly feeling prevailed among them; and, whatever game or provisions chanced to be obtained by any one family, was freely shared with the other

two.

Towards spring, the men were again sent for a supply of wheat; but, by that time, the ice was growing tender, and the weather tended towards thawing, so that they were detained on the way much longer than they had expected; and on their arrival at home, found the families reduced to the last extremity, having been without provisions for two days. In this time of distress, the fortitude and energy of Mrs. Harper aided to sustain the rest; she was fruitful in expedients, and for the last days they had lived on the wild leeks she had gathered from the woods and boiled for them. Their troubles did not terminate with the severity of the winter. As soon as the lake opened, the men set out for Canada in boats to procure provisions; but found so much ice as they went down, that they were unable to reach Buffalo without much detention. In the mean time, new difficulties arose in the little settlement. The mill, on which all depended, was broken beyond hope of repair, and there appeared no way of grinding the wheat, which they could not pound so that bread could be made of it, and which, when prepared by boiling, proved unwholesome food. In this extremity, some relief was afforded by the arrival, at the mouth of Cunningham's Creek, of Eliphalet Austin, who came to make preparations for a settlement at Austinburgh, and gave the pioneers what they needed for immediate use from his supplies of provisions, thus preventing them from suffering till the return of their messengers.

About this time an accident, not uncommon in this forest life, occurred to Mrs. Harper. She went out one morning to find the cows, which had strayed away; but, not having yet learned to tell the north side of a tree by the difference in the bark-a species of woodcraft with which she afterwards became familiar-she lost herself, and wandered all day along the banks of a stream that ran through the depth of the forest. Her family, of course, became alarmed at her lengthened absence, and blew the horn repeatedly; but it was not until the shades of night had fallen that she heard the signal, when she managed to light upon the township line, and followed it to the clearing.

In the summer following, her sons were obliged to watch closely the hogs they had brought from Canada, on account of the bears, which were very numerous and destructive to stock. The men being occupied in clearing and working the land, or procuring provisions, various outdoor employments were cheerfully assumed by the women. One evening,

Mrs. Harper, with her eldest daughter, went to look up the hogs, taking the path that led to the nearest neighbor's house. Presently, they were startled by seeing a small bear's cub cross the path just in advance of them; it was followed by another, and the old bear composedly brought up the rear, taking no notice of the females, who made their way home with all speed, unmindful of the pigs, which came to their quarters directly, unharmed. So frequent were encounters with wild beasts, that the men never went beyond the clearing without firearms.

In July, 1799, Major Joseph Harper, the colonel's brother, joined the colony with his family, while a relative of the same name, with some other families, commenced a settlement at Conneaut, some thirty miles down the lake. This year wheat, corn, etc., were raised sufficient for consumption; but there was a scarcity of meat, the severity of the preceding winter having killed several of their cattle, and many of the hogs being devoured by the bears. They were under the necessity, therefore, of depending on wild game, and the ease with which they secured it in traps, or by the unerring aim of their rifles, with their iron strength for the endurance of fatigue when ranging the forest, might well entitle them to be called "mighty hunters." But they were heavily laden with daily cares and laborious duties, which even the pleasures of the chase could not induce them to neglect: the clearing of the land and the culture of grain and vegetables demanded incessant attention, and the grinding of the grain was a matter requiring the exercise of some ingenuity. Corn they soon contrived to pound in mortars scooped in the top of oak stumps, with pounders attached to spring poles; but they were obliged to send their wheat in boats down the lake as far as Walnut Creek, in Pennsylvania, where a mill was erected this year. The families of the new emigrants suffered considerably in the latter part of the summer from sickness, and Mrs. Harper went down to the settlement at Conneaut to offer assistance in attending to them. She remained some weeks occupied in her ministrations of kindness, and was not ready to return home till the last of November. Travelling in open boats and on horseback were the only modes practicable among the pioneers. The season was too far advanced for the first, and, accompanied by her relative, James Harper, our benevolent heroine set out on her homeward journey, the only road being along the lake shore. Fording the streams at their mouth, they had rode some fifteen miles when they came to the mouth of Ashtabula Creek, across which a sandbar had formed during the summer, but had now given way to the increased force of the waters, which flowed into the lake. Harper was not aware of the depth of the stream, into which he rode without hesitation, and presently found his horse swimming. He called out to warn his companion; but she was too anxious to reach home to heed his remonstrance, and followed him fearlessly. Both reached the other

side with some difficulty, Mrs. Harper wet to the shoulders, and in this condition she rode the remainder of the way, arriving at home before midnight.

During the fall, there were some accessions to the colony; Judge Wheeler, who had married a daughter of Colonel Harper, came in October, with his family, and Harper's eldest son, who had been out the year before and returned. For a year and a half after the settlement was commenced, they were not visited by Indians, though they frequently heard their dogs, and learned afterwards that they had not escaped the observation of their savage neighbors, who had counted them, and had noticed all their occupations and new arrivals. The winter of 1799 was remarkable for the depth of snow upon the ground. In consequence of this, game could not be procured, and the Indians suffered severely. Some thirty of them, unable to procure anything to satisfy the cravings of hunger, came to the settlement to ask relief, and were treated with the most generous hospitality. They remained six weeks, sheltered and fed by the pioneers; and when the snow melted, they found plenty of game in the forest, which they showed their gratitude by sharing with their white friends. In March, 1800, Daniel Bartholomew brought out his family, accompanied by that of Judge Griswold, whose destination was Windsor. They came on the ice from Buffalo, arriving only the day before the breaking up of the ice left the lake clear as far as the eye could reach. In the winter preceding, the whole Western Reserve had been erected into a county, which was called Trumbull, the part of it comprising Ashtabula being then included in one township, and called Richfield. In May, there were still further accessions, in consequence of which a scarcity was experienced of provisions raised the previous year, and designed for the use of a much smaller number. The settlers were again compelled to send to Canada in an open boat, in June, for fresh supplies. In August, ar election was held for the purpose of sending a delegate to a convention appointed to be held at Chillicothe in the ensuing winter, for the purpose of taking measures preparatory to the admission of Ohio as a State into the Union. The winter of 1800-1801 passed without any remarkable occurrence, the country being healthy and provisions abundant. In the following June, other families were added to the number of inhabitants, and the summer was signalized by the erection of a horse-mill, the first built in the county, and the only one, till others were built in Austinburgh. The sufferings of the settlers from scarcity of food and other privations were now over, the advance of improvement developing the resources of the country, and the farmers were able to enlarge their cleared lands, and cultivate the soil to better advantage. Their friends from the East continued to join them, and Mrs. Harper had the satisfaction of seeing her elder children settled around her. In 1802, a school was established in the settlement

an

supposed to be the first on the Reserve. The scholars came from a distance of two miles and a half; and as the reputation of the institution extended, they were sent from Windsor and Burton, twenty and thirty miles distant. The same year regular meetings were established by the "Lovers of Good Order," and the year following saw numerous accessions.

In about three years after the commencement of the settlement, the Indians began to visit them periodically. They were chiefly Ojibways, and belonged to Lake Superior in the summer, but came down every fall in their bark canoes, and, landing at the mouths of the streams, carried their canoes on their heads across the portage to Grand River, seven miles from the lake. Here they took up their quarters for the winter, returning west in the spring. They showed a friendly disposition towards the white men, and as the pioneers gave them assistance in sickness and destitution, they endeavored to show their gratitude by bringing them portions of such large game as they killed. Many a choice piece of bear's or elk's meat, carefully wrapped in a blanket, has Mrs. Harper received from her savage friends. One day she saw a party of drunken Indians coming towards her house when the men were absent; and she had just time to conceal a small keg of liquor under the floor before they came in, demanding whiskey. They were told they could not have any, but, insisting that they would, they commenced a search for it, and finding a barrel of vinegar, asked if that would "make drunk come," as, if so, they

would take it. Finding it not the right sort of stuff, they insisted, before leaving the house, on treating the women from a calabash of muddy whiskey which they carried with them.

During all the privations, trials, and sufferings which Mrs. Harper was compelled to undergo, she was never known to yield to despondency, but with untiring energy exerted herself to encourage all within the sphere of her influence, teaching them to bear up against misfortune, and make the best of the home where their lot was cast. Her own family knew not, until the hardships of pioneer life had been overcome, how much she had endured-how many sleepless nights and hours of anxiety she had passed in the days of darkness and disaster. She found her reward in the affection and usefulness of her children, several of whom filled important stations in their adopted State. During the war of 1812, the country was exposed to all the dangers of a frontier, liable, on every reverse of the American arms, to be overrun by hostile Indians. In time of peril, Mrs. Harper's advice was always eagerly sought, as one whose experience qualified her to decide on the best course in any emergency. Her granddaughter well remembers seeing her engaged one day at the house of her son-in-law in showing a company of volunteers how to make cartridges.

Her life was prolonged to her eighty-fifth year, and she died on the 11th of June, 1833, retaining unimpaired, until her last illness, the characteristic strength of her remarkable mind.

"We might have been!-these are but common words,
And yet they make the sum of life's bewailing;
They are the echo of those finer chords,
Whose music life deplores when unavailing-
We might have been!"

OUR first chapter opens on an afternoon in early September, and upon a group in one of our western cities. The windows of a large and cheerful apartment looked upon the deep and rapid Muskingum ; and, at the open casement of one, a girl of about twenty was seated, on whom the attention of the party within seemed riveted; from the mother, who sat in her comfortable rocking-chair, and occasionally looked up from her sewing, to the fair girl of sixteen, who flitted restlessly about, pausing ofttimes beside her sister, to throw her arms about her neck with ardent affection.

"Frank, you must not go!-you shall not go!"

VOL. XLV.-5

she exclaimed, at last, impetuously. we do without you?"

"What shall

"Well enough, Carry, I dare say," replied the girl, withdrawing her eyes from the prospect without, and returning her sister's caress. "Well enough, now that you are home from school, and mother will not be lonely;" and her gaze sought that of her parent with fond solicitude.

"Well, I do not see how !" answered Carry, impa tiently; "and you are just as calm as though going for six weeks, instead of six months. No one knows what may happen in that time: only this I hope and pray of all things, that you don't get married!"

Unconsciously, Frank glanced at the figure of a handsome young man, who was seated opposite her, with his arms resting upon the table before him, and his hands supporting his head; while, with his keen, forward, pressing eyes, he followed every movement. His lip curled now, and Frank blushed slightly, while she laughingly replied

"How selfish, Carry! Before I come back, I shall be twenty-one. It is high time to look out for a husband."

"I do not think so," cried Carry; "at least, not there."

"But I, now, have an especial fancy for an eastern beau," Frank answered: "they are so much more intelligent and cultivated than our cavaliers, and❞—

"Polished fools!" muttered Philip Arden, rising suddenly as he spoke, and overturning the small table with a crash.

"Oh, Philip! you have broken sister's beautiful vase, and all her beautiful flowers, too!"

"Confound them!" was his only answer, striding off towards the window, where Frank no longer sat, but stood pale and breathless. "Frank, come and walk with me; I want to talk to you! Nay, you must come !" he continued, as the girl proudly withdrew the hand he had taken, and turned away. "Must!" murmured Frank Cushman, slowly, through her closed lips, and fixing her glittering eye full upon him.

Mrs. Cushman rose and left the room with a troubled air; and, at a sign, the light-hearted Carry followed. Frank looked around, to find herself alone with a man with whom, the day before, she had parted in passionate anger; vowing, as she tore a sparkling gem from her finger, and dashed it into the rapid river, that the memory of Philip Arden should perish in her heart as that diamond in the flowing Muskingum! Now the color rose to her brow, as she questioned the reason of his unwished presence.

"Yesterday, I told you we were parted forever, and to-day you are here again, with your ungovernable temper, to destroy the small remnant of happiness left!"

Philip Arden's eyes flashed.

"Frank, you never loved me!"

"Perhaps not," she said, with withering coolness, though her lip trembled the while.

"Oh, madness! madness!" cried the young man, traversing the room with passionate gestures. "So to love! so to lose!"

"Yes, Philip; our love has been all madness, all fire, and consumed itself by its own intensity. It were better, far better, to part thus, and now, than to have wedded, and waked to find ourselves victimized forever. So much alike-how could we ever love so madly?"

"Frank! Frank! do not talk thus; you will drive me frantic! I am so now, I believe!" And he dashed his hands wildly against his high and burning brow.

Frank sank upon her chair and hid her face; she dared not look upon such passion. Once again her hand was taken, and Philip Arden knelt before her. "Oh, Frank!" and the scalding agony dropped from his brow upon her hands, "must it be so-as you have said? Can you not try me once again?

If years of probation are needful, still give me hope at last!"

Now she spoke hurriedly, and with more softness"Philip, I have vowed, before high Heaven, that wed I will not, as we now are! Love is not immortal; it cannot stand such shocks as you have given mine daily by your constant, causeless, watchful jealousy. I lose my respect and trust when you thus degrade yourself; and I would not dare to marry without respect. Now I will tell you, while I am calm, my resolution. I will go to Philadelphia, as I have promised; and, when there, I will mingle constantly in society, and not seclude myself: that shall be the trial of my love for you. If I love not there-if, at morn and eve, at noonday and midnight, my thoughts turn homeward to you, then I shall be faithful-I shall know, indeed, my love is lasting. But, remember, I would not bind you with a hope, a chance; you also may change; but we shall know, when first our eyes meet on my return, whether the breath of the world hath been upon our hearts. If it be of one only, the other must be content to suffer; if of both, what matters it? But, if both are still the same, then"

She stooped down, and, imprinting a fervent kiss upon Philip Arden's forehead, passed quickly from the room; while still he knelt, and gazed upon her vacant chair, as though she still were present.

CHAPTER II.

"Thine is a face to look upon, and pray
That a pure spirit keep thee!"-WILLIS.

"GIRLS! girls!" cried Fanny Ashton, rushing into the parlor of a large and handsome house in the western part of our own good eity, where half a dozen maidens sat engaged in earnest conversation, "I have seen her! I have seen the beautiful Frank Cushman! Lend me your ears, and I will give you such a description!"

"Quick, then, quick!" cried many light voices, impatiently, and eager glances were bent on the new-comers. One was a showy, dashing girl, with few pretensions to beauty; but the other, her sister, was exceedingly handsome, though, at present, a tinge of melancholy obscured the radiance of her beauty.

Well, then," cried the former, throwing down her bonnet and fanning herself violently, "this same Miss Cushman, about whose beauty and attractiveness such a commotion has been made for the last month, turns out to be just nothing at all! No style, no beauty, no pretensions of any sort, that I can discover; and I don't think I'm quite blind."

"Not beautiful?" exclaimed the blooming conclave, with universal surprise.

"I think she is," half murmured her sister; but so faintly that no one heard her.

"No; that's a positive fact! Sarah and I were just going by Clara Hastings's, and she beckoned for us to come in; and who should be in the parlor but her sister! She arrived last night. Clara introduced us immediately; but Miss Cushman was so reserved and quiet, that Clara and I had the conversation to o selves, after all."

"Well, that is very singular!" observed Amy Bryan. "Clara was forever talking about her sister. What did you think, Sarah?"

"Oh, don't ask Sarah! She is desperately taken with the lady, and thinks I have grown blind. She will rare, if you only give her a chance."

66

'Oh, that is delightful!-the very thing!" cried Amy. "I thought there must be two sides. Come, Sarah, now for your description."

The girls laughed. Sarah laughed, yet spoke enthusiastically.

"I do not wonder Clara praises her. I think she will queen it most decidedly. There is a sort of spell about her; you cannot be with her five minutes without feeling it, whether you acknowledge it or not."

"But tell us what she is like, can you not?" cried Amy Bryan, impatiently.

"Yes; only wait one moment," Sarah answered, with perfect good-humor. "At first, do you know, though her appearance was striking, I said, 'Why, she is not pretty!' but, the next moment, I had changed my opinion. She is not very tall, though you would think so at first, her figure is so slender; and her face is not round nor oval, nor any particular shape that I can describe, and her mouth is decidedly large; but, at either corner, lurk two of the most bewitching dimples! She cannot smile or speak without disclosing them, and they give such an innocent, loving expression to the lower part of her face, in itself so far from beautiful; but the upper part, that is perfectly exquisite! Her forehead is purely Grecian, with a profusion of dark hair parted plainly over it, and woven in a loose plait behind; and her eyes! I thought, at first, they were black, but they are gray, with those large dilating pupils and long, black lashes, fairly sweeping her cheek."

"And her complexion ?" asked Amy.

"It is very white; but not a particle of color: but you never think of that."

"Oh, I'm sure I should!" replied Amy, herself displaying, at the moment, two round and rosy cheeks, which were justly the envy of many a palefaced maiden. "But go on, go on!"

"I have finished," said Sarah, laughing. "But I do not think, after all, that Frank Cushman will trouble as much; I do not think she will become one of us: she conveys the idea of a superior being. Even Clara, accomplished as she is, and so much older, too, seems to look up to her in some things. Oh, girls, I warn you; we must look to our laurels !"

CHAPTER III.

"And can young Beauty's tender heart Nurse thoughts of scorn?"

MRS. HASTINGs sat at her writing-desk, directing a pile of invitations on the table beside her. She laid down her pen to speak to her sister, who sat quietly on the sofa, with her head thrown back and eyes half closed.

"Frank, dear, don't you think I had better put off this party, after all, till you are better? I don't think you are at all well."

"Oh yes, I am, Clara, perfectly so; only somewhat fatigued with my journey-jolting over the mountains."

"You do not look well, at all events, and I had just as leave put it off; only say the word."

"That I will not. I dare say society will revive me, and be the best possible thing, after all." But a weary sigh followed the assertion.

"Very well, then, if you think so." And Mrs. Hastings resumed her employment.

"Frank," she said again, after a while, "how did you like Sarah and Fanny Ashton ?"

"Those were the girls who called here yesterday?" said Frank, languidly.

"Yes; the same."

"I like the beautiful one-Sarah: is that her name?-but not the other. I should dread her rattling tongue."

"Oh, as to that, Fanny is nice enough, and her tongue most amusing, when one has a fit of the glooms, or feels indisposed to converse themselves. But Sarah has half obtained my ill-will; for I fear she will disarrange my pet plan with regard to you."

"How?" asked Frank, with more interest, unclosing her fine eyes.

"Why, you see, the state of the case is this: Sarah Ashton, with her beauty and various accomplishments, has more than half succeeded in captivating the lion of our set, whom, in my heart, I had laid out for you to exercise your powers upon. Is it not provoking? He is just the man for you: no one else can appreciate you, or enter into your high-flown feelings, or-in short, I am thoroughly provoked that he should make such a goose of himself! Why could he not wait?"

"What is his name?" said Frank, with a smile. "Quite a romantic one-Percy Bryan; and he writes verses, and sings enchantingly, and plays, and is most eloquent! And, to descend to vulgar particulars, is very handsome, and rich, and all that sort of thing, you know."

"Oh yes; I know," said Frank, with an amused expression of countenance. "He writes sonnets, does he, and 'strums the light guitar,' and perhaps dresses à la Byron, and has floating locks, and