They start once more in the darkness. They know that the river
will bring them to their homes.

The current bears them on. Soon they are amid the rapids at Pennacook,
but the thought of home, of liberty, cools their brains and steadies
their nerves. The intrepid women handle the paddles dexterously,
steering clear of sunken rocks and dangerous whirlpools.

They come to a space of clear water, and then to falls, around which
they must carry the canoe. They are in danger of death by drowning, in
danger of prowling savages, whose wigwams are still standing along the
bank of the winding stream, but no Indian discovers them. With tireless
energy they ply their paddles. Days pass. At last they sweep round a
bend, and behold familiar scenes: they are once more at home, coming
upon their sorrowing friends like apparitions from the dead. It is a
marvellous story they have to tell of endurance, heroism, and victory.
No one can doubt their words, for there are the scalps, evidence
undoubtable.

By every fireside the story of Hannah Dustin, Mary Neff, and Samuel
Leonardson is narrated. Presents come to them--fifty pounds from the
General Court of Massachusetts, and a rich present from the Governor of
New York.

A monument has been reared upon the spot where they obtained their
freedom, commemorative of their endurance, resolution, and heroic
action.

THE ROVERINGS AT CONEY ISLAND.

BY MATTHEW WHITE, JUN.

The two Eds wanted to go very much.

"I can learn to build forts in the sand, and then grow up to be a
soldier," urged Edward.

"And I might watch the men steer the boats, and by-and-by be ready to
sail off somewheres on a ship, and bring back an India shawl," suggested
Edgar, cunningly, and Mrs. Rovering decided at once that they should go.

"By the boat?" cried Edgar.

"No, by the cars," exclaimed Edward; and thereupon arose a discussion on
the point, which lasted until Mr. Rovering came home to dinner, and said
they could go by both.

So on the next morning, which happened to be Saturday, the family set
out, armed with an immense lunch basket, and shaded by huge straw hats.

"Now, Robert," said Mrs. Rovering, as they hurried down a dirty side
street to the river, "are you sure you know where you're going?"

"Why, to Manhattan Beach, to be sure. We decided to begin there, you
remember." But they had no sooner reached the end of the long pier than
they were set upon by what appeared to be a lot of crazy