ON THE DEATH OF MRS. HENRY L. ELLSWORTH.*

BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY.

Heavily over the western gale,
There stealeth a sound of woe,

She of the spirit so fond and true,
She-who among us, was born and grew,
Is laid in a moment low.

How brief the space, since her parting kiss
With the smile and the tear were blent,
The tear was for those whom she left behind,
And the smile was the light of a constant mind,
That in duty found content.

Yet a bitter pang was hers, that bade
The heart with anguish swell,

Her aged sire, who had grown more dear
With the weary lapse of each added year,
To him-to say farewell.

But mov'd by the strength of those holy ties
That the wife and mother bind,

She turn'd to a distant home to bear
The wealth of energies rich and rare,
And the warmth of a taste refined.

And there, where stranger waters roll,
And the prairie roses spring,

She met from the free, and living west,
The welcome due to an honor'd guest
Of New England's nurturing.

There too, with a Christian zeal she toil'd,

And there, her rest was won,

Rest, 'neath the shade of the cypress tree,

And over the spoiler, victory,

While long shall her memory cherish'd be

In the clime of the setting sun.

*This estimable lady was the only daughter of the Hon. Elizur Goodrich, of New Haven Connecticut, and died not long after her removal to the beautiful region of La Fayette, Indiana.

LEGENDS OF 1689.

No. I.

THE OLD MINISTER OF SCHENECTADY.

BY MISS A. A. GODDARD.

The incidents we are about to relate, historians seems to have entirely overlooked in their records of the sacking of Schenectady. And, while we do not presume to censure them for the omission, we trust they will pardon us for bringing them now and then, from their dusty resting place, to occupy a page in national literaThere is so much of the thrillingly terrible connected with the events which so rapidly succeeded each another during the years 1689-90, that we trust we shall be pardoned, if we occasionally omit a link in the bloody chain history has transmitted, and supply its place by some less terrific recital.

ture.

Historians tell us No tongue can express the cruelties that were committed at Schenectady. Houses were burned; and mothers, in their expiring agonies, saw their helpless children cast into the flames. So unsuspicious were the inhabitants of the place, of danger, that the outer gates were not shut, and the first alarm was the terrible war whoop around their dwellings." It is difficult, in these peaceful times, to conceive of the horrors attending the dreadful massacre; the heart grows faint at the contemplation, and turns to some brighter spot in the page of history.

Amid scenes of indiscribable cruelty, one act of mercy shines forth, like a star, amid moral darkness. And such an act we at present record.

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The day preceding the awful massacre had been exceedingly cold. Neighbors had scarce ventured out to bestow a customary greeting, and whole families clustered closely about their hearthstones, relating with livid lips, and chattering teeth, the by-gones of sunnier days. As evening closed in, the blazing fire from well fed hearths threw a cheerful aspect upon all without, and some few warm-hearted lovers ventured forth to sit by the fireside of their lady loves. Among others, whose dwellings were thus favored, was that of a poor widow, whose name, neither history, nor legend has perpetuated. She, the widow, had abandoned her childhood's home. to follow the fortune of an idolized husband. One child, a daughter, had been given them, whom they named Gretchen. The toils incident to securing a new home, had overtasked her husband's strength, and he, the first of that little band of settlers, occupied. the first grave in the parcel set aside for a burial place. That

Gretchen was beautiful, many young men had discovered; but the simple girl, unconscious of her charms, contented herself with the honest love of a neighbor's son. This evening, Gretchen and her lover occupied one corner of the immense fireplace, while her mother was engaged in close conversation, with their aged pastor in the other. The minister, who, bye the bye, we should have said resided with the widow, having left his wife in the little tomb beneath the church, in which he officiated in his native village, had long assumed tender watchfulness over the daughter of his hostess, and this evening he was busily sketching a plan for her future happiness.

With Gretchen, he looked upon the young man's suit with favor, and, as spring was approaching, he kindly proposed that the young man should then assume the office of protector to both mother and daughter. The snows of many winters had already whitened the aged pastor's locks, and he felt that the days of his pilgrimage were near their close. Poor man! He little dreamed that before another dawn, those whitened locks would be dabbled in gore.

As the old clock in the kitchen corner struck the hour of nine, the little family knelt down, while their minister commended each with pathetic earnestness to the keeping of his heavenly father. With softened and subdued spirits, they rose from their humble posture, the young man to return to his father's fireside, the inhabitants of the widow's cottage to seek refreshing from the toils of the day in quiet sleep.

About four o'clock on the following morning, the inhabitants of Schenectady were startled from their dreams, by the terrific war whoop. Montet, the French commander, had given strict orders that the minister should be spared, as he had formerly been indebted to him for an act of kindness; but in the indiscriminate slaughter which ensued, it became impossible to recognize individuals. M. Montigni, a volunteer in Montet's army, attacked in company with some ten or twelve Indians, the dwelling next that of our friend the widow. In the assault, he was desperately wounded, and was carried into the widow's dwelling, while his followers revenged his wounds by the death of all who were found in the house where their leader was wounded.

The terrified inmates, roused so unexpectedly from their slumbers, had attempted to secrete themselves; but when the widow saw the disabled condition of the French officer, she left her hiding place and endeavored to staunch his wounds.

The old minister too presented himself, and assisted in his relief. Just as they had succeeded in bandaging the head of the officer, the outer door was burst open, and the young man of the preceding evening appeared, hastily pursued by two Inlians. Disregarding the presence of Montigni, they furiously attacked the occupants of the room, and a fatal blow, laid the minister

bleeding at their feet. Enraged at such an outrage upon the rites of hospitality, Montigni seized his sword, and before any present were aware of his design, severed the head of one of the Indians from his body. The other finding his companion thus suddenly attacked, turned to revenge his death, and shared a similar fate by the same hand.

Terrified by such scenes of horror, Gretchen fell fainting at the feet of the officer, while her more courageous mother sought to stop the blood that flowed so freely from the head of her beloved minister. Already faint from the loss of blood, he simply signed for water. When this was given him, he motioned to be raised up. When somewhat recovered, he beckoned the young man and Gretchen to his side, and, joining their hands, looked appealingly to Montigni, who sat a silent spectator of the scene. Bowing an assent to what he knew not, the trembling voice of the pastor repeated the marriage service.

Never were bridal rites performed under bloodier circumstances, and never perhaps did human love so triumph over the approach of death. Gretchen, the dear, fatherless Gretchen, was the idol of his widowed heart, and with the amen upon his lips, which sealed the youthful lovers one in life, the soul of the aged saint sped to heaven.

We need not add, the French officer proved himself a staunch friend to the family thus committed to his protection. Gretchen and her mother were numbered among the captives; but, near the litter that conveyed the wounded Montigni, followed another bearing two females. By its side walked a sturdy youth, with unbound arms, who watched with tender eagerness, the litter which bore his Gretchen and her mother. After some months sojourn in Montreal, the widow's family returned to Schenectady, accompanied by Montigni, with an escort. Her house was standing, and unoccupied.

Years afterward, another tenant entered the house in which the above scenes were enacted. In a remote corner of the dwelling a hymn book of an ancient date was found, drawn thither, doubtless by the rats in a predatory excursion, bearing upon the fly leaf, the following inscription.

"Edward and Gretchen."

Underneath, in manly letters were the words.

"Saved by the love of the old Minister of Schenectady." "Feb'y 8th, 1689."

FASHION.

BY THE REV. O. H. GREGORY.

It is easier to describe than to define this term, owing principally to its latitude of application. In its simple and common acceptation, it suggests to us ideas of the prevalent manners and taste of a community or country. Its most prominent element, and in fact the only one by which it is known, is its mutability. It exists every where, and is, to a certain extent, an index of civilization aud refinement; and its power is felt in greater or less degrees, according to the advantages of education we enjoy, and the form of government under which we live. And as it is a truth pretty generally admitted, that mankind in general are naturally tinctured with aristocracy, therefore we perceive the reason why fashion is attended with more show, toil and expense in some governments than others.

This subject is naturally connected and interwoven with that of taste, and consequently has its votaries among rude as well as refined communities; and we can easily conceive of its progress and changes in the formation of society, in the construction of language, and in the first inventions of art, in all its revolutionary and zig-zag courses, down to the present period. A hundred years hence will tell what improvements we have made, and in what respects we have become deteriorated during the past century.

In a Christian community, fashion excludes what may be called the grosser sins, and makes crime appear hideous and deformed; and as imitation contributes to the diffusion of the same moral sentiments among mankind, so fashion governs, under favorable circumstances, in the creation of many beauties of character, both moral and intellectual. In intelligent creatures stripped of knowledge, and chiefly guided by imitation, it is to its possessor of some value, and even more than we would suppose upon first thought. The individual of a little cultivated taste, or a perverted one, may add essentially to his comfort by the erection of a house, the selection of his furniture, and the laying out of his grounds, on a plan similar to that of his neighbor. Look over the world, and how potent its influence! And let us extend the thought to its influence on education, the pursuits of agriculture, and the mechanic arts, all of which are becoming more fashionable and adding materially to the good of the world.

When we speak of persons of fashion, independent of moral power, its fruits are often unlawful pleasures, vanity and immorality, sometimes the offspring of envy, and generated by pride and luxury and the lives of its votaries are spent like those of irrational creatures, and appear, like butterflies, beautiful, but ephemeral.

The Creator, in his wisdom and benevolence, has implanted