h tomahawk and knife
Through the advancing circle, but in vain,
They fall beneath the stalwort blows of men
Who long had suffered under savage hate.
Hunters and settlers of the valley roused
At length to vengeance. With a rapid hand
The blockhouse-door I opened and rushed out,
Wielding my rifle. Youth, this arm is old
And withered now, but every blow I struck
Then made the blood-drops spatter to my brow,
Until I bathed in crimson. With deep joy
I felt the iron sink within the brain
And clatter on the bone, until the stock
Snapped from the barrel. But the fight soon passed,
And as the last red foe beneath my arm
Dropped dead, I sunk exhausted at the feet
Of my preservers. A wild, murky gloom,
Filled with fierce eyes, fell round me, but kind Heaven
Lifted at length the blackness; on my soul
The keen glare fell no more, and I arose
With the blue sky above me, and the earth
Laughing around in all its glorious beauty."

[Illustration: The Departure
From H. C. Corbould. Drawn with alterations & engraved by Geo. B.
Ellis Engraved expressly for Graham's Magazine]

THE DEPARTURE.

BY MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS.

[Entered According to Act of Congress in the year 1848, by EDWARD
STEPHENS, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United
States for the Southern District of New York.]

[SEE ENGRAVING.]

CHAPTER I.

Oh do not look so bright and blest,
For still there comes a fear,
When hours like thine look happiest,
That grief is then most near.
There lurks a dread in all delight,
A shadow near each ray,
That warns us thus to fear their flight,
When most we wish their stay. MOORE.

Far down upon the Long Island shore, where the ocean heaves in wave
after wave from the "outer deep," forming coves of inimitable beauty,
promontories wooded to the brink, and broken precipices against which
the surf lashes continually, there stood, some thirty years ago, an
old mansion-house, with irregular and pointed roofs, low stoops,
gable-windows, in short, exhibiting all those architectural
eccentricities which our modern artists strive for so earnestly in
their studies of the picturesque. The dwelling stood upon the bend of
a cove; a forest of oaks spread away some distance behind the
dwelling, and feathered a point of land that formed the eastern circle
down to the water's edge.

In an o