or make others serve them all. No one indeed knew how to refuse a request of Aunt Schuyler, who never made one for herself.

CHAPTER LIII.

Return of the 55th Regiment to Europe.-Privates sent to Pensacola.

THE 55th now left their calm abodes amidst their lakes and forests, with the joy of children breaking up from their school; little aware that they were bidding adieu to quiet, plenty, and freedom, and utter strangers to the world, into which they were about to plunge. They all came down to Albany. Captain Mungo Campbell was charmed to find me so familiar with his Milton; while I was equally charmed to find him a favorite with Aunt Schuyler, which was with me the criterion of merit. Colonel Duncan, for such he was now, marched proudly at the head of his pupils, whom he had carried up raw youths, but brought back with all the manly and soldierly openness of manner and character that could be wished, and with minds greatly improved. Meanwhile Madame's counsels had so much influence on my father, that he began seriously to think of settling in America. To part with his beloved 55th was very trying; yet his prospects of advantage in remaining among a people by whom he was esteemed, and to whom he had really become attached, were very flattering; for by the aid of Aunt and the old inhabitants, and friendly Indians, who were at her powerful bidding, he could expect to get advantageously some lands which he, in common with other officers who served in America, was entitled to. He, having a right to apply for the allotted quantity wherever he found it vacant, that is, in odd unoccupied places, between different patents, which it required much local knowledge of the country to discover, had greatly the advantage of strangers; because he could get information of those secluded spots here and there that were truly valuable: whereas other officers belonging to regiments disbanded in the country, either did not find it con

venient to go to the expense of taking out a patent and surveying the lands, and so sold their rights for a trifle to others; or else half a dozen went together, and made a choice, generally an injudicious one, of some large tract of ground, which would not have been so long unsolicited had it been of real value. My father bought the rights of two young officers who were in a hurry to go to Europe, and had not perhaps wherewithal to pass through the necessary forms used to appropriate a particular spot, the expense of that process being considerable. Accordingly he became a consequential landholder, and had his half-pay to boot.

The 55th were now preparing to embark for that home which they regarded with enthusiasm; this extended to the lowest ranks, who were absolutely home-sick. They had, too, from the highest to the lowest, been enabled, from their unexpensive mode of living, to lay up some money. Never was there a body of men more uncorrupted and more attached to each other. Military men contract a love of variety in their wandering manner of life, and always imagine they are to find some enjoyment in the next quarters that they have not had in this; so that the order for marching is generally a joyful summons to the younger officers at least. To these novices, who, when they thought the world of variety, glory, and preferment was open before them, were ordered up into the depth of unexplored forests, to be kept stationary for years together, without even the amusement of a battle, it was sufficiently disappointing. Yet, afterwards, I have been told that, in all the changes to which this hapless regiment was subjected, they looked back on the years spent on the lakes as the happiest of their lives.

My father parted with them with extreme regret, but he had passed the Rubicon; that is to say, taken out his patent, and stay he must. He went, however, to New York with them, and here a very unexpected scene opened. Many of the soldiers who had saved little sums had deposited them in my father's hands, and, when he gave every one his own at New York, he had great pleasure in seeing their exultation, and the purchases they were making. When, all of a sudden, a thunderbolt burst among these poor fellows, in the shape of an order to draft the greatest part of them to Pensacola; to renew regiments, who, placed on a bar of burning

sand, with a salt marsh before and a swamp behind, were lingering out a wretched and precarious existence, daily cut short by disease in some new instance. Words are very inadequate to give an idea of the horror that pervaded this band of veterans. When this order was, most unexpectedly, read at the head of the regiment, it was worse to most of them than a sentence of immediate death; they were going to a dismal and detested quarter, and they were going to become part of a regiment of no repute; whom they themselves had held in the utmost contempt when they had formerly served together. The officers were not a little affected by this cruel order to part with brave, well-disciplined men; who, by their singular good conduct, and by the habits of sharing with their officers in the chase, and in their agricultural amusements, fishing-parties, &c., had acquired a kindly nearness to them not usually subsisting between those who command and those who must implicitly obey. What ties were broken! what hopes were blasted by this fatal order! These sad exiles embarked for Pensacola at the same time that their comrades set out for Ireland. My father returned, sunk in the deepest sadness, which was increased by our place of abode; for we had removed to the forsaken fort, where there was no creature but ourselves and three or four soldiers who chose to stay in the country, and for whom my father had procured their discharge.

I was, in the mean time, more intimate than ever at Aunt Schuyler's; attracted not only by her kindness, but my admiration for Mrs. Cuyler, and attachment for her lovely little girl. The husband of the former was now returned from his West India voyage, and they retired to a house of their own, meaning to succeed to that business which the mayor, now wealthy and infirm, was quitting. Cortlandt Schuyler, the general's brother, and his sprightly, agreeable wife, were now, as well as the couple formerly mentioned, frequent visitors at aunt's, and made a very pleasing addition to her familiar circle. I began to be considered as almost a child of the family, and Madame took much pains in instructing me, hoping that I would continue attached to her, and knowing that my parents were much flattered by her kindness, and fully conscious of the advantages I derived from it. With her aid my father's plan of proceeding was fully digested.

He was to survey and locate his lands, (that was the phrase used for such transactions,) and at leisure (as the price of lands was daily rising) to let them out on lease. He was to reserve a good farm for himself, but not to reside upon it till the lands around it were cultivated, and so many settlers gone up as would make the district in a degree civilized and populous; a change which was like to take place very rapidly, as there were daily emigrations to that neighborhood, which had become a favorite rallying-point, on account of a flourishing and singularly well-conducted settlement which I have already mentioned, under the auspices of Colonel Schuyler in this quarter.

CHAPTER LIV.

A new Property.-Visionary Plans.

My father went up in summer with a retinue of Indians, and disbanded soldiers, &c., headed by a land-surveyor. In that country, men of this description formed an important and distinct profession. They were provided with an apparatus of measuring-chains, tents, and provision. It was upon the whole an expensive expedition; but this was the less to be regretted as the object proved fully adequate. Never was a location more fertile or more valuable, nor the possessor of an estate more elated with his acquisition; a beautiful stream passed through the midst of the property; beyond its limits on one side rose a lofty eminence covered with tall cedar, which being included in no patent, would be a common good, and offered an inexhaustible supply of timber and firing after the lands should be entirely cleared. This sylvan scene appeared, even in its wild state, to possess singular advantages; it was dry-lying land without the least particle of swamp; great part of it was covered with chesnuts, the sure indication of good wheat-land, and the rest with white-oak, the never-failing forerunner of good Indian-corn and pasture. The ground, at the time of the survey, was in a great measure covered with strawberries, the certain sign of fertility.

And better and better still, there was, on a considerable stream which watered this region of benediction, a beaverdam, that was visibly of at least fifty years standing. What particular addition our overflowing felicity was to derive from the neighborhood of these sagacious builders, may not be easily conjectured. It was not their society, for they were much too wise to remain in our vicinity, nor yet their exam-ple, which, though a very good one, we were scarce wise enough to follow. Why then did we so much rejoice over the dwelling of these old settlers? Merely because their industry had saved us much trouble; for, in the course of their labors, they had cleared above thirty acres of excellent hayland; work which we should take a long time to execute, and not perform near so well; the truth was, this industrious colony, by whose previous labor we were thus to profit, were already extirpated, to my unspeakable sorrow, who had been creating a beaver Utopia ever since I heard of the circumstance. The protection I was to afford them, the acquaintance I was to make with them, after conquering the first shyness, and the delight I was to have in seeing them work, after convincing them of their safety, occupied my whole attention, and helped to console me for the drafting of the 55th, which I had been ever since lamenting. How buoyant is the fancy of childhood! I was mortified to the utmost to hear there were no beavers remaining; yet the charming, though simple description my father gave us of this "vale of bliss," which the beavers had partly cleared, and the whole "township of Clarendon," (so was the new laid out territory called,) consoled me for all past disappointments. It is to be observed that the political and economical regulations of the beavers make their neighborhood very desirable to new settlers. They build houses and dams with unwearied industry, as every one that has heard of them must needs know; but their unconquerable attachment to a particular spot is not so well known; the consequence is, that they work more, and of course clear more land in some situations than in others. When they happen to pitch upon a stream that overflows often in spring, it is apt to carry away the dam, formed of large trees laid across the stream, which it has cost them unspeakable pains to cut down and bring there. Whenever these are destroyed they cut down more trees and construct another; and, as they