unstable are human honors--so ungrateful are republics.

THE THREE BRIDES.

Towards the close of a chilly afternoon, in the latter part of last
November, I was travelling in New Hampshire on horseback. The road was
solitary and rugged, and wound along through gloomy pine forests and
over abrupt and stony hills. Several circumstances conduced to my
discomfort. I was not sure of my way; I had a hurt in my bridle hand,
and evening was approaching, heralded by an icy rain and a cold,
searching wind. I felt a sinking of spirits which I could not dispel
by rapid riding; for my horse, fatigued by a long day's journey,
refused to answer spur and whip with his usual animation. In an hour
after, I was convinced that I had mistaken my road, and night
surprised me in the forest. I had been in more unpleasant situations;
so I adopted my usual expedient of letting the reins fall upon my
courser's neck. He, however, blundered on, with his nose drooping to
the ground, stumbling every moment, though ordinarily as surefooted as
a roebuck. So we plodded on for a mile, while the landscape grew
darker and darker. At length, finding my horse less intelligent or
more despairing than myself, I resumed the rein, and endeavored to
cheer my brute companion. To tell the truth, I stood in need of
something exhilarating myself. The sombre air of the eternal pines
struck a deathly gloom to my heart, as one by one they seemed to rise
on my path, like threatening genii extending their scathed limbs to
meet me. The rain, fine and cold, bedewed me from head to foot, and I
question if a more miserable pair of animals ever threaded their way
through the mazes of an enchanted forest. I thought of the comfortable
home I had left for my forlorn pleasure excursion, of that cheerful
hearth around which my family were gathered, of wine, music, love, and
the thousand endearments I had left behind, and then I gazed into the
recesses of the shadowy wood that closed about me, almost in despair.
I began to dread the apparition of some giant intruder, and was
seriously meditating the production of a pair of pistols, when my
quick glance caught the glimmer of distant lights, twinkling through
some opening in the trees, and darting a beam of hope upon the
wanderer's soul. My reins were instantly grasped, and my rowels were
struck into the sides of my charger. He snorted, pricked up his ears,
erected his head, and sprang forth in an uncontrollable gallop. Up
h