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"You will find it so, sir." And so I found it; and the first sight of Niagara I shall never forget.

Now, launch your bark on that Niagara river; it is bright, smooth, beautiful and glassy. There is a ripple at the bow; the silver wake you leave behind, adds to your enjoyment. Down the stream you glide, oars, sails, and helm in proper trim, and you set out on your pleasure excursion.

Suddenly, some one cries out from the bank, hoy!"

"What is it?"

"The rapids are below you!”

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Young men,

"Ha ha! we have heard of the rapids; but we are not such fools as to get there. If we go too fast, then we shall up with the helm, and steer to the shore; we will set the mast in the socket, hoist the sail, and speed to the land. Then on, boys; don't be alarmed, there is no danger."

"Young men, ahoy there!"

What is it?"

"The rapids are below you!”

"Ha! ha! we will laugh and quaff; all things delight us.

care we for the future! No man ever saw it.

day is the evil thereof.

What

Sufficient for the

We will enjoy life while we may, will

catch pleasure as it flies. This is enjoyment; time enough to steer out of danger when we are sailing swiftly with the current."

"YOUNG MEN, AHOY!"

"What is it?"

"BEWARE! BEWARE! THE RAPIDS ARE BELOW YOU!"

"Now you see the water foaming all around. See how fast you pass that point! Up with the helm! Now turn! Pull hard! Quick! quick! quick! pull for your lives! pull till the blood starts from your nostrils, and the veins stand like whip-cords upon your brow! Set the mast in the socket! hoist the sail! Ah! ah! it is too late! Shrieking, howling, blaspheming; over they go."

Thousands go over the rapids of intemperance every year, through the power of habit, crying all the while, "When I find out that it is injuring me, I will give it up !"

John B. Gough.

From Ivanhoe

Following with wonderful promptitude the directions of Ivanhoe, and availing herself of the protection of the large ancient shield, which she placed against the lower part of the window, Rebecca, with tolerable security to herself, could witness part of what was passing without the castle, and report to Ivanhoe the preparations which the assailants were making for the storm.

The skirts of the wood seem lined with archers, although only. a few are advanced from its dark shadow."

"Under what banner?" asked Ivanhoe.

"Under uo ensign of war which I can observe," answered Rebecca.

"A singular novelty," muttered the knight, "to advance to storm such a castle without pennon or banner displayed! Seest thou who they be that act as leaders?"

"A knight, clad in sable armor, is the most conspicuous," said the Jewess; "he alone is armed from head to heel, and seems to assume the direction of all around him."

"What device does he bear on his shield?" replied Ivanhoe.

'Something resembling a bar of iron, and a padlock painted blue on the black shield."

"A fetterlock and shacklebolt azure," said Ivanhoe; "I know not who may bear the device, but well I ween it might now be mine own. Canst thou not see the motto?"

"Scarce the device itself, at this distance," replied Rebecca; "but when the sun glances fair upon his shield, it shows as I tell you." "Seem there no other leaders?" exclaimed the anxious inquirer. "None of mark and distinction that I can behold from this station," said Rebecca; "but, doubtless, the other side of the castle is also assailed. They appear even now preparing to advance."

Her description was here suddenly interrupted by the signal for assault, which was given by the blast of a shrill bugle, and at once answered by a flourish of the Norman trumpets from the battle

ments.

"And I must lie here like a bedridden monk," exclaimed Ivanhoe, "while the game that gives me freedom or death is played out by the hand of others! Look from the window once again, kind

maiden, but beware that you are not marked by the archers be neath, look out once more, and tell me if they yet advance to the storm."

With patient courage, strengthened by the interval which she had employed in mental devotion, Rebecca again took post at the lattice, sheltering herself, however, so as not to be visible from beneath.

"What dost thou see, Rebecca?" again demanded the wounded knight.

"Nothing but the cloud of arrows flying so thick as to dazzle mine eyes, and to hide the bowmen who shoot them."

"That cannot endure," said Ivanhoe; "if they press not right on to carry the castle by pure force of arms, the archery may avail but little against stone walls and bulwarks. Look for the Knight of the Fetterlock, fair Rebecca, and see how he bears himself; for, as the leader is, so will his followers be."

"I see him not," said Rebecca.

"Foul craven!" exclaimed Ivanhoe; "does he blench from the helm when the wind blows highest?"

"He blenches not! he blenches not!" said Rebecca; "I see him now; he leads a body of men close under the outer barrier of the barbican. They pull down the piles and palisades; they hew down the barriers with axes. His high black plume floats abroad over the throng, like a raven over the field of the slain. They have made a breach in the barriers- they rush in they are thrust back! Front-de-Boeuf heads the defenders; I see his gigantic form above the press. They throng again to the breach, and the pass is disputed hand to hand, and man to man. It is the meeting of two fierce tides—the conflict of two oceans, moved by adverse winds!" She turned her head from the lattice, as if unable longer to endure a sight so terrible.

"Look forth again, Rebecca," said Ivanhoe, mistaking the cause of her retiring; "the archery must in some degree have ceased since they are now fighting hand to hand. now less danger."

Look again; there is

Rebecca again looked forth, and almost immediately exclaimed: "Front-de-Boeuf and the Black Knight fight hand to hand on the breach, amid the roar of their followers, who watch the progress

of the strife.

Heaven strike with the cause of the oppressed, and

of the captive!"

She then uttered a loud shriek, and exclaimed:

"He is down! he is down!"

-

"Who is down?" cried Ivanhoe. "For our dear lady's sake, tell me which has fallen ?"

"The Black Knight," answered Rebecca, faintly; then instantly again shouted, with joyful eagerness, "But no-but no!- he is on foot again, and fights as if there were twenty men's strength in his single arm-his sword is broken-he snatches an axe from a yeoman he presses Front-de-Boeuf with blow on blow-the giant stoops and totters, like an oak under the steel of the woodman-he falls-he falls!"

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"Front-de-Boeuf?" exclaimed Ivanhoe.

"Front-de-Boeuf!" answered the Jewess. "His men rush to the rescue, headed by the haughty Templar-- their united force compels the champion to pause-they drag Front-de-Boeuf within the walls."

"The assailants have won the barriers, have they not?" said Ivanhoe.

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"They have they have!" exclaimed Rebecca, "and they press the beseiged hard upon the outer wall; some plant ladders, some swarm like bees, and endeavor to ascend upon the shoulders of each other-down go stones, beams, and trunks of trees upon their heads; and as fast as they bear the wounded men to the rear, fresh men supply their place in the assault. Great God! hast thou given men thine own image, that it should be thus cruelly defaced by the hands of their brethren!"

"Think not of that,” said Ivanhoe; "this is no time for such thoughts. Who yield?-who push their way?"

"The ladders are thrown down," replied Rebecca, shuddering. "The soldiers lie groveling under them like crushed reptiles-the besieged have the better!"

"Saint George strike for us!" exclaimed the knight; "do the false yeomen give way?"

"No!" exclaimed Rebecca; "they bear themselves right yeomanlythe Black Knight approaches the postern with his huge the thundering blows which he deals, you may hear them

axe

above all the din and shouts of the battle stones and beams are

hailed down on the bold champion — he regards them no more than if they were thistledown or feathers!"

"By Saint John of Acre!" said Ivanhoe, raising himself joyfully on his couch; "methought there was but one man in England that might do such a deed!"

they throw them

"The postern gate shakes," continued Rebecca; "it crashesit is splintered by his blows - they rush in the outwork is won — they hurl the defenders from the battlements into the moat! Oh, men if can resist no longer!"

ye

be indeed men

- spare them that

"The bridge, the bridge which communicates with the castle, have they won that pass?" exclaimed Ivanhoe.

"No," replied Rebecca; "the Templar has destroyed the plank on which they crossed-few of the defenders escaped with him into the castle--the shrieks and cries which you hear, tell the fate of the others! Alas! I see it is still more difficult to look upon victory than upon battle!"

"What do they now, maiden?" said Ivanhoe; "look forth yet again this is no time to faint at bloodshed."

"It is over for the time," answered Rebecca. "Our friends strengthen themselves within the outwork which they have mastered, and it affords them so good a shelter from the foeman's shot, that the garrison only bestow a few bolts on it, from interval to interval, as if rather to disquiet than effectually to injure them."

Walter Scoll.

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Rip Van Winkle.

He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, the village inn - but it too was gone. A large rickety wooden building stood in its place, with great gaping windows, some of them broken and mended with old hats and petticoats, and over the door was painted, "The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle." Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall, naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red night-cap, and from it was fluttering a flag, on

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