itical force, he accomplished something entirely different from what
he intended, both what he intended and what he actually accomplished
were equally a credit to him. Some of his contemporaries thought that
his courage, his eloquence, his pure and undiluted patriotism, had a
serious drawback in the irrepressible fire and vehemence of his nature;
but passion enters largely into the composition of all noble natures,
and is, in no inconsiderable degree, the secret of their success. Otis
was certainly wanting in some of the elements of greatness displayed by
the most distinguished of his contemporaries and compatriots. His style
of statemanship was not so far-seeing, comprehensive, and solid as that
of a Samuel Adams, a Thomas Jefferson, a John Dickenson, or a Benjamin
Franklin, and it certainly lacked the Machiavellian coolness and
argumentativeness of a Hutchinson. But what Otis accomplished was
impossible to any of them. His work was quite unique in its way, and his
public life and action have produced results as valuable and lasting as
the public labors of any of the noble men who devoted without stint
their best thought and energies to laying down, deep, strong, and
enduring, the foundation-stones of the American Republic.

A ROMANCE OF KING PHILIP'S WAR.

BY FANNY BULLOCK WORKMAN.

CHAPTER I.

One bright afternoon early in the month of June, 1676, a young girl
stood leaning against the trunk of a tree, gazing into the waters of the
beautiful Lake Quinsigamond. Her head rested heavily on her hand, as if
weighed down by the burden of despair. Suddenly she started, uttering a
slight cry, then sank back against the tree with a sigh of relief as she
recognized a tall young Indian who approached her.

"Ah! is it you, Ninigret?"

"Yes, Millicent; fear not, there is no foe near; and if there were I
would protect you. Why do you tremble so?"

"Is it strange I tremble at the least noise, when the sound of a
footstep or the rustling of a leaf may mean instant death to me? The
forest is full of enemies. They lurk in every by-path. Behind every bush
or fair spreading tree may be seen their leering faces. What, then, has
a poor captive girl to expect of their mercy?"

"Do not I and those of my tribe here protect you? Have I not already
saved you from death at the hands of a roving Indian?"

"You have; perhaps only for a worse fate. Death, indeed, would be no
worse than a future of such captivity; for though you w