captivity, she had been
separated. Her child proved not to be among the little captives; but, in
order to get possession of her husband's property, she claimed another
child, of about the same age. This child grew up gross, ugly, awkward, a
"big, black, uncomely Dutch lump, not to be compared to the beautiful
Fanny Grey," and moreover turned out morally bad. The real daughter was
said to have been married, and settled in New York, "a fine woman, with
a fair house and fair children." At all events, she was never recovered
by her relatives, and her existence seems to have been doubtful. In
1789, the heirs of John Grey, the father, became aware that the claimed
and recovered child was not the child that had been lost. They commenced
a lawsuit for the recovery of John Grey's property, consisting of a farm
of three or four hundred acres. This lawsuit lasted till 1834, when it
was decided against the identity of the recovered child. (Sherman Day's
Hist. Coll. of Penn.)

* * * * *

Bethuel Vincent, carried by the Indians to Canada, being then recently
married. A few years after, a rough-looking man fell in with a
sleighing party at a tavern, and inquired if they knew anything of Mrs.
Vincent. She was pointed out to him. He gave her news of her husband,
and, joining the sleighing party, began to grow familiar with Mrs.
Vincent, and wished to take her upon his lap. She resisted,--but behold!
the rough-looking stranger was her long-lost husband. There are good
points in this story. (Ibid.)

* * * * *

Among the survivors of a wreck are two bitter enemies. The parties,
having remained many days without food, cast lots to see who shall be
killed as food for the rest. The lot falls on one of the enemies. The
other may literally eat his heart!

* * * * *

_October 13._--During this moon, I have two or three evenings sat for
some time in our dining-room without light except from the coal fire and
the moon. Moonlight produces a very beautiful effect in the room,
falling so white upon the carpet, and showing its figures so distinctly,
and making all the room so visible, and yet so different from a morning
or noontide visibility. There are all the familiar things, every chair,
the tables, the couch, the bookcase, all that we are accustomed to see
in the daytime; but now it seems as if we were remembering them through
a lapse of years, rat