never allowed to have an opinion of his own; spending half his time in dissipation, and half in confession of his peccadilloes to a fanatic priest, without one manly quality to entitle him to notice-stained with the vices of a profligate barrack-room.” Helen shut the volume before her with such force, that the old deacon started. She rose, and was about leaving the room. The motion did not escape the notice of the worthy deacon. Instantly aware of the construction that would be put upon her actions, she subdued the indignant feelings which rose in her heart, and resumed her seat, just as Flora's father, Colonel Manning, entered the room. The deacon went on "I do not blame the silly youth so much as I do those under whose guidance he might have learned better. But he has been more spoiled by admiration from the women than any thing else." "Poor Clarence! what a pity he is not here to profit by your lecture!" said Flora, laughing. "He is where he will receive a severer lesson, young lady," said the old man, looking hard at her bright face. "I hope his illness-which I cannot help considering a judgment for his crimes-will be visited in mercy to his soul, and that he may be tried in the furnace of affliction until he is drawn from his errors." Flora caught the book as it fell from the hand of her friend, and placing herself so as to shield her from observation, asked: "Is Clarence ill, or wounded, Deacon Jones ?" "Oh, you do not smile at that news, young lady, though you may at my endeavor to call a sheep into the right fold. You are like all the rest who have assisted in ruining this youth, thinking more of his temporal than his eternal welfare." "For mercy's sake, dear Mr. Jones, do not keep us in this horrid suspense," cried Flora, feeling that every word he uttered must be as a dagger to the heart of Helen. "Tell us truly, is Clarence in any trouble, or do you only jest?" "I jest!" exclaimed the imperturbable deacon, opening his eyes to their utmost extent, and looking awful. "It is for those who are still in the hands of Satan and the bonds of iniquity, to trifle in serious matters, and not for one of the pillars of the church, whose duty it is to reprove such indiscretions when he observes them in others." Flora, in despair, turned to her father, who, roused by her pleading, anxious look, and understanding her generous motive, laid down the Courier which he had been reading, and begged to know if his neighbor had heard any tidings of Madame Dumont's son. At the mention of Madame Dumont, the deacon was off again like a rocket. He abused mother and son, and the whole Catholic dynasty, from the Pope down to Madame's confessor, and ended with saying, "that those who sympathized with these degenerate persecutors of the true supporters of the faith were as bad as they were, and deserved to be shunned." "Softly, good neighbor," said Colonel Manning, laying his hand on the shoulder of the excited speaker. "You alarm my little girl, here, with your violence. Pray tell us, in as few words as possible, what you know of the situation of this youth, in whom we are all interested, and whom every body in this neighborhood loves." The rich blood sprang to the cheek of Helen, and her heart beat high at this generous defense. "I am sure he can have done nothing deserving this severe anathema, and it is but fair that you allow the poor youth some quarter, and a chance to clear himself." "Well, all I know about it," said the deacon, somewhat cooled down by this admonition, "all I know about it is this: General Burgoyne sent this boy on a secret commission, and he got into difficulty. Some say General Washington condemned him to death; others, that Lafayette interfered and sent him back; but at all events he went through some danger, and was wounded. The dispatches have but just arrived, and Flora darted toward the new-comer. "What news from the army, uncle ?" "Read for yourself, pet," said her uncle, handing her the letter. I came to tell you-but here is your bro- nel Brown, with a number, were detached, ther-in-law with a letter." and sent to retake Ticonderoga. By express yesterday from Colonel Brown, we are informed that they have taken Fort George, the French lines at Ti., a large number of batteaux, seventeen gun-boats, an armed schooner, and a number of cannon, and also sent a summons into Fort Ticonderoga and Mount Independence to surrender-an answer to which we had not received when the express came away. Also took two hundred and ninety-three prisoners, and retook of our prisoners upwards of one hundred. The last account from General Lincoln was, that he was at Pollet, about thirty-seven miles eastward of Fort Edward. We expect he is now on his way to join us, after which I make no doubt we shall be able, with the blessing of Heaven, to give the public a very agreeable account of Mr. Burgoyne and his army. Camp, near Stillwater, Sept. 17, 1777. DEAR GENERAL:-Doubtless you are anxious to hear from our army at such a time as this, when a decisive action in this department is daily expected. On the 19th inst., part of the left wing of our army had a warm engagement with the enemy. The action began on our left between General Frazier's flying camp and Colonel Morgan's corps of riflemen, together with our light troops who are added to that corps, at half-past twelve o'clock P. M. The action continued very obstinate on both sides for some time, when General Frazier was obliged to retreat; but being reinforced, he renewed the action about half-past three. Colonel Morgan was supported from the left wing of our army, and after a heavy, incessant firing for about three hours, the evening closed the scene of action. Our loss is sixty-four killed and thirty missing, officers included. Amongst our dead are Lieutenant-Colonel Adams and Coburn; also, three captains and eight subalterns and sergeants. We had two hundred and seventeen wounded. The enemy's loss I cannot ascertain; but by the best intelligence it is great. I am informed by a deserter to us, that amongst their wounded is General Burgoyne, and amongst their Idead is General Frazier. We constantly expect another engagement, which I expect will be decisive, as doubtless it will be general. Our troops who were in the battle in general fought well, and our army are in good spirits-though I must confess I am surprised that our States have been so dilatory in sending us reinforcements at a time when, had we a sufficient number of troops, the whole of General Burgoyne's army must inevitably fall into our hands. The militia from our State are under the command of General Lincoln, from whose division Colo Our army is remarkably inspired with martial zeal; their very countenances not only indicate courage and true valor, but give us the strongest assurance of success, which, I trust, we shall be favored with through the blessing of Heaven, whenever we shall have a good opportunity to meet our enemy. In the late battle we took a considerable number of prisoners, but cannot ascertain the number. Through Divine goodness I am restored to a very good state of health, and joined the army the Tuesday after left me. you I have the honor, with due respect, to be your most obedient, humble servant, JNO. NIXON. The Hon. Brigadier-General PALMER. "Not a word about Clarence, after all!" said Flora; and then aside to Helen, who had listened with breathless attention: "I don't believe one word of Deacon Jones's storybegging his pardon. Be sure, Helen, you will hear the truth from some other source. And not a word either about a more important individual !" she muttered to herself. "Success to our gallant boys!" exclaimed Colonel Manning, rising and pacing the floor | It was through his influence that she was with rapid steps. "I knew that Burgoyne's footing in Canada would prove a slippery one. When do you start for your quarters, my dear General ?” "This news makes it necessary that I proceed immediately," replied General P"Well, niece, what now? you seem puzzling that pretty head with some plot or other. What have you been about here, you mischievous little elf?" glancing round upon the flower-strewed room. Ah, I fear you find too lenient a tutoress in my young friend Helen. We must send you to Madame R- to learn manners." Flora pouted her lip, and flew to her friend, round whom she twined her white arms with the utmost affection. “That you will never do, uncle, for, in spite of the threat, I know you would be as great a sufferer as myself, should Helen Williams leave us." me 66 There you are right, niece; and now tell if you have merited the reward I promised you for the Virgil translation." "I have, I have, as Helen will testify. And now a boon, a boon, dear uncle, you will not deny me.” "Bless that bright young face! who could deny you any thing? Brother, I am half a mind to steal this treasure of yours, though blest with half a dozen of my own. Come, pet, what is it?” Flora drew him aside, and in a few words explained the situation of her lover-(for our readers must have divined that Edward Lester claimed that title.) General P————— looked grave, and bade his niece go directly to her father, and tell him the whole affair. Flora refused, persisting that St. Clair was his favorite, and he would not move an inch to thwart his own plans with regard to him. Clarence also came in for a share of her sympathy; and here her auditor was all attention. For Helen Williams, he felt all the interest of a parent for a child. She was the daughter of his early friend, and she was also an orphan, and had ever looked up to him for advice in all her little difficulties. made the companion of his niece, and he had pointed her out to Flora as an example to be imitated. He had long suspected how matters stood with her and Madame Dumont, though not a word of complaint had passed Helen's lips upon the subject. She merely gave as a reason for leaving her former protector, that her services were no longer desired. But Clarence had opened his heart to the guardian of her he loved. He had pleaded with such earnestness to be allowed the privilege of corresponding with her, desiring at the same time that all the letters should pass through his hands, that he had not the heart to refuse; and although ignorant of the residence of Helen, his letters reached her frequently, and kept alive the feelings she had endeavored to subdue. The General was pained to hear that his young favorite had drawn himself into difficulty, and readily promised Flora to inquire into the matter at once. "And poor Edward, uncle, will you not do something for him?" "On condition that you make a confidant of your parent; not otherwise," replied he. "That I cannot do," said Flora, the tears starting in her eyes. "How do you know that he favors this St. Clair ?" "Does he not allow him to come here as often as he likes? and does he not treat Lester coolly when he takes the same liberty? I will never marry that man, uncle, I am resolved!" exclaimed Flora, in rather a louder tone of voice. "What's that about marrying?" cried Colonel Manning, stopping short in his walk. "Ha, brother, are you going to dispose of my naughty girl here, without my know ledge? What's all this?" "Come, Flora, be candid, and tell him all, or leave it to me. There; go, darling, and dry your eyes. I will explain for you." Flora vanished from the room, and was shortly seen in close confab with Philis in the garden. Shall we follow Helen Williams to the retirement of her own room, when night had drawn her sable curtain over the earth, and none were near to witness the emotions of her pure and guileless heart? Shall we break the seal of that letter on which her tearful eyes are bent, and about which her trembling fingers are employed? Shall we linger on each line until it is impressed in undying colors upon the heart? Fie, fie, Helen! that letter has been read already half a dozen times. Are you not satisfied? What, again—and again! And that beautiful miniature! Are not the features familiar enough, that you must gaze so eagerly upon it, as if it were some newly discovered treasure? Was there no kind, confidential friend to make a morning call upon Madame Dumont, and hint that her son was very disobedient? Dear reader, you and I will look in upon the "proud ladye," and make a discovery which shall be the subject of another chapter. Meanwhile, fair Helen, fold up that precious epistle, take a last, lingering look of those idolized features, and resign thyself to such peaceful dreams as youth and innocence alone enjoy. Let the mighty in arms love and conquer again; 'Tis the poet who crowns them with honors divine; "CAPITAL! and very well sung, Major. Give us another song. Whose turn is it? This evening is for enjoyment, to-morrow for the din of war. Comrades, I call upon you all to do your duty. Lieutenant Allen, we call upon you for a sentiment." "Success to the Light Guards, and death to all rebels!" shouted Lieutenant Allen. "Fill your glasses again; and, Captain More, a right loyal speech. Please address yourself to the chair, and silence at the lower end of the table." "Friends, Britons, comrades!" cried Captain More, rising and brushing up his hair; "unaccustomed as I am to addressing a large audience-" "Please address the chair, sir." "Unaccustomed as I am to address the chair-" There was, for a moment, too much laughter and confusion to allow the orator to proceed. "I am called upon, on this occasion, to announce to you the agreeable intelligence, that early to-morrow morning we must march through the swamps and thickets, to attack, conquer, and carry off a large number of rebel Yankees. The cry is to be, No quarter! unless they yield peaceably. General Burgoyne-make bows, gentlemen-has recovered from his fatigue, and resumes the command. Mr. Washington will shortly be in our power. Six Skinners have engaged to capture him, and"-here he looked towards the lower end of the table, at a finelooking young officer who had not joined in the toasts, "and a decoy-duck, sent on to make the matter easier to be accomplished." There was a roar of merriment, and all eyes turned in the same direction. The president rose and waved his hand. "Gentlemen, fill your glasses, and drink to the success of our expedition, and to a prosperous journey to Clarence Grahame." Our hero rose and bowed his thanks for the compliment. He was seating himself again, when Captain More shouted"A from Lieutenant Grahame." "A song-a song!" repeated a dozen voices. song "Address yourself to the chair!" exclaimed the President. Clarence knew there was no retreat for him, and in a clear, sweet, yet powerful voice, rendered somewhat tremulous from agitation, he sang the following words, which had been composed soon after his separation from Helen. There's many a cheek as fair, love, My first fond dreams of hope, love, Though others come around, love, With many a winning art, Yet constant at thy shrine, love, Remained my faithful heart. The chains are all too light, love, Around my heart they fling; It wanders back to thee, love, And life's unclouded spring. The laurel-wreath they twine, love, If 'tis not shared with thee. "Bravo! Capital! Encore-encore !" exclaimed several voices. But Clarence excused himself, on the plea that he must withdraw from the gay group, as he was to receive his orders that evening from General Burgoyne, and to start early in the morning on some secret expedition, the nature of which had not been explained to him. Had our hero glanced round the table as he spoke, he would have observed certain looks exchanged among the officers, which would have roused suspicions in a less ingenuous mind. But Clarence, although he had been a year in the army, had not yet learned all the snares laid for the unwary— not been a participator in the intrigues which there, as well as in a court, were continually carried on. He knew only that he had been chosen by his general as a trusty messenger to the camp of General Howe, then stationed in New-Jersey. The letters he was to carry were sealed in his presence, but without his having any knowledge of their contents, and he took them with as much readiness as he would any common message between two friends. We shall not take time here to explain the nature of the dangerous commission with which he was charged. Suffice it to say, that he left the next morning with a buoyant heart, attended by only six men, and not the least of his joyous anticipations was that of passing through the city where his mother resided; and a brighter hope rose in his mind, that by some happy chance he might hear of or see another object still dearer to his heart. The first day passed without any remarkable incident; the next saw him on the banks of the noble Hudson: and here we must leave him to pursue his journey, and return to the apartment to which we first introduced our readers, in the house of Madame Dumont. After the sudden disappearance of Helen, and the departure of her son, Madame Dumont found that the gay circle she was accustomed to draw around her sensibly diminished. The butterflies of fashion still paid their court to the wealthy widow, but the charm which had been thrown around her house had flown. The harp and piano no longer sent forth sweet sounds; the lady herself had become peevish and irritable, and instead of courting, seemed to exact attention. As she had lost the bright charms of youth, and her mind had not been sufficiently cultivated to make amends for that loss, this was not to be expected. There was one, however, who still paid his court to Madame Dumont with an assiduity which puzzled many to account for. This was Adolphus St. Clair, the brother of Adelaide. He had lately arrived from France, bringing the disagreeable intelligence that his sister had become a nun, and bestowed all her property upon the convent in which she had been educated. This was of course a terrible blow to Madame Dumont-the absolute destruction of all her hopes. But when St. Clair, whose attentions had become pleasing to her, one morning burst into loud eulogiums of Helen Williams, and begged his friend to use her influence with her protégé in his favor, her vexation became too great to be concealed. Declaring that she knew nothing about the orphan, and wished to have nothing to do with her in future, she rose abruptly and left the room. St. Clair was surprised, for, having heard nothing of the circumstances which compelled the young lady to leave the house, he had supposed she was only on a visit at Col. Manning's, where he had first seen her. Won by the fascinating talents of the beau tiful girl, he had resolved to lay his heart and fortune at her feet. All his advances, however, were received with coldness, and, having used every effort to gain her affection, but without success, he resolved to solicit |