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"Nancy-Martha-me old; me go to the happy hunting grounds. Me no leave you look up to me, and say, which island mine? Me say, you know now which have. Nan, you old; choose! Martha, you young; have other!"

Nancy being thus commanded by the dying chief, selected for her inheritance the island now known as Nantucket, so called because "Nan took it." Martha received the other, which has ever since borne her name, being known as the island "Martha's Vineyard."

A summer jaunt to these islands is full of interest, involving, as it does, some of the grandest water scenery on the American continent. They are peopled by a race of bold mariners. Every two men out of three of the inhabitants bear the title "captain" as an honorable handle to their names. The shores of the islands are washed by the waves of old Ocean. Forever the rolling surf has been singing its mournful requiem where are now the graves of the old chieftain's daughters. As the "Eagle's Wing "* bears us away from the Vineyard, we offer the following tribute to the gentle Indian Martha, who yet hovers over the grave of her once mortal self,

now a

66 SPIRIT OF THE ISLAND HOME."

Oh, farewell! dear heart, we sever!
On the foaming seas I roam;
'Midst the storm, forget thee

never

Spirit of thine "Island Home!"

* 'Eagle's Wing" is the name of a small steamboat, plying

between Martha's Vineyard and the continent.

O'er the main, the wild waves dashing,
Soon will kiss our bold ship's keel;
Seek them, love, in moon-beams flashing;
On the beach by moonlight steal.

Speak thy fears! dear heart, they'll listen,
Wildly breaking on the shore;
Flash on flash, with light they'll glisten,
Whisp'ring, as they cease to roar,
"Spirit-form, so graceful bending,
Fairest of the sea-clad isle,
To thy lips one heart is sending
Kisses pure, by us the while."

Darkest night! no moon, or star-beam
Gather softly in mine eye:

On the deep-hath death's cold glare-beam
Come to light my latest sigh?

Spirit form, so graceful bending,

Fairest of the sea-clad isle,

For thy heart, that sigh is blending

Purest love with Heaven's smile.

Such was the "Island Home," where George Melville's father, in the village of Edgartown, had established his summer residence. It was a beautiful home, uniting the pleasures of a country life, the luxuries of both foreign and inland commerce, turned towards the island by the" Eagle's Wing," and a rich supply of unadulterated sea-breezes.

"Really, George," said Bell Mortimer, as together they promenaded the deck of the little steamer, 'your summer home is a gem of rare selection."

"Rather say, needs to be studded with a gem of rare selection," replied George Melville.

The ardent gaze which accompanied this compliment, rather than the compliment itself, caused Bell's

pulse to beat more quickly. The hand which she rested upon his arm, began to tremble. Withdrawing it, she replied:

"George, the diamond never becomes dimmed. Time holds no poison with which to change its brilliant lustre. It is not for me to become a gem in your home."

"Bell, then you shall become a tree in my garden."

"A tree?" said Bell. (6

'Why a tree?"

"Listen to Allan Ramsay,” replied George.

"See yon twa elms that grow up side by side

Suppose them, some years syne, bridegroom and bride;
Nearer and nearer ilka year they've prest,

'Till wide their spreading branches are increast,
And in their mixture now are fully blest.
This shields the other frae the eastlin blast,

That in return defends it frae the west.

Sic as stand single, a state sae liked by you!
Beneath ilk storm-frae every airth maun bow.'"

"Let me be a tree, dear George-not a gem," said Bell.

"A tree of heaven! so you will become," said George, taking Bell's hand, and drawing it gently within his arm. It was not relinquished until his warm pressure was returned by the slight trembling which spoke a clear response to his last sentiment.

The boat was gradually nearing the city of New Bedford. So many objects of interest presented themselves, that Melville was soon engaged in the pleasing task of pointing them out for Bell's infor

mation.

The party on the boat was the same with which

the reader has met, on "Tower Mountain." Mrs. Melwood and her daughter had accepted Mrs. Mortimer's urgent invitation to visit Aurora. By particular request of George Melville, the party first went to Boston, and from thence to Pittsfield, where George desired to renew some of his old associations as a medical student.

At Albany, George left the party, and took the cars for New York, where now an equal partner with Mr. James Carter, his friend the contractor, of Auburn memory, he stood at the head of one of the most extensive "iron works" in the United States. Already he had succeeded in planning, and his establishment had executed the plans, which had given to American steam navigation a rank equal with the world. He was quoted as an authority by the enterprising capitalists, who sought to compete with English progress, for his name stood high upon the list of American mechanics. Already it was spoken with pride, whenever the comparative merits of American and foreign mechanical inventors formed the theme of social converse.

LII. .

Sunday-school in Prison-The Chaplain and his Convict Congregation -A Convict who had well earned his position reflects-Two Deaths.

It is a Sabbath-day morning; the streets of the city of Auburn give token of the solemn respect which the great American heart pays to the day of sacred rest. The distant church-clock strikes eight. Coming from different parts of the city, a number of young men have been gradually approaching the central entrance of the state prison. The ponderous gate slowly yields to the continued pressure of the gate-keeper. Let us enter in company with the band of young men, and note their object. It is neither our purpose, nor have we the inclination, to accept the invitation extended, to join in the duties of the morning hour. To become a successful and efficient Sunday-school teacher, requires early training and large experience. He who would follow in the footsteps of Robert Raikes, of "Merrie England," must become "wise as the serpent, and harmless as the dove."

We have entered the prison chapel, which the reader will doubtless remember, having visited it once before. Those convicts who elect to join the Sunday-school, have been taken from their cells, and are assembled in the chapel. The object which has

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