other eatables and drinkables too numerous to think of. Now what he was going to do with all this food it would be difficult at this era to determine, had we not at our command chronicles of the time, two hundred years ago. His vitriol disposition was excited, and one would suppose he intended to tire the devil of the "mystic barrier" out of existence, by eating. We shall see. About ten o'clock in the night, Wolvus clambered into his boat and pushed forth. A violent storm was howling around him but he heeded it not. It must be borne in mind that the bay was never known to be affected by storms more than to cause a gentle ripple on its surface, but upon the outer edge the waters foamed and heaved furiously, and formed a wall over which it was extremely difficult to leap. Wolvus took advantage of an eddy in the north corner and was whirled out into the channel with the speed of a gun-shot By his skilful experience alone did he then preserve his vessel from swamping. He battled with the wind and currents for over two hours, at the expiration of which time he arrived at the place where he was to do most valorous fight. So soon as his boat struck the mysterious line there was a very perceptible cessation of the storm around him, and voices, while the winds were sighing most lamentably, yet sweetly through the forest, sang as follows: As the winds are singing, And their tones are ringing, Hist! 'Mid these bowers entrancingly, Hie thee to thy dwelling by the shore; 'Round whose walls are dashing, -Heed! Waves, whose wrath is crashing, All thy towers, despoiling thee, Haste! or homestead thine thou'lt see no more. As any other man would do under the same circumstances, Wolvus assumed a tragic attitude, caused, as some would say, by fright, but it was not so; he was only startled. Throwing away, and voices, masculine in their tone, chanted these lines: Man of clay! dost mark us? All our words, ominous, Speak to thee of dangers near, Heed! Round thy hut tempestuous, Speed' Roll their briny floods-dost hear? Stubbornness will surely bring dismay! The chant concluded, loud blew the blast again and high leaped the waters around Wolhe, at the finale of the music, thought it would vus. Having some knowledge of discretion, be the better part of valor to return and see whether or not his shanty was already, or being, destroyed by the elements. Turning his boat's Reaching the bay, he perceived that it was as head homeward, he dashed furiously forward. calm as usual. Thinking, however, that the tempest had been making havoc of his house, he approached it and landed. Upon examination, he discovered nothing whatever out of kindled! Aye, he heaped loads of fuel the way. Then was the wrath of Wolvus upon it in the way of skiedam, and he became once more valiant. All of a sudden he sprang up from his long bench upon which he had been momentarily reclining, and opened his pantry. Out came a huge blunderbuss, then several loaves of bread, and lastly a large firkin of a Dutchman's indispensable-sour cabbage.These having been severally stowed in his boat he once more pushed forth. Passing through many dangers he at length pulled up, compelled to do so, at the mysterious line. Most lamentable howls proceeded from the forest, but Van Deck could not now be intimidated. Lifting and holding aloft a large ham, he cried, "Now I vill see if I vont pass from here. You with this he threw quite on to the shore the spirits dont eat-vell, I vill make you eat!"* pork, which no sooner struck it than the howling music became more boisterous. “Ah, ha!” he exclaimed, "I vill make you eat more as dis," and whizzed through the air another ham. Louder blew the winds and more courageous became Wolvus. Off went his coat, then his vest, up rolled he his sleeves, and at that off the effects of the shock he had received, but retaining his stage position, he exclaimed, with a voice of thunder, "Ha! Ha! tou tenants of te teep, in te upstairs, I vill not be afraid mit you. I vill girt up mine loins ant—" just at this point of his speech he was interrupted by an awful streak of lightning which completely unmanned him. The breezes, before weeping among the forest branches, died | harmless. *The Dutch pioneers entertained a traditionary notion that if evil spirits could be induced to eat they were with a "vhat?" By and by Van Deek's nervous system was reinvigorated, when he related his encounter with the opposers to progress up the river, how he had fought and been worstHis last words to them, however, before they again parted, was, "I vill try vonce more; if I tont come pack to mine house before twelf, you shall pash te parrier." They Next morning welcomed our exploring party to " Kipp's Bay," but Wolvus didn't. waited till afternoon, when they set out for the terrible line, past which they were whirled with tremendous power, verifying what Wolvus had predicted. With some difficulty, Dundersmasher and confreres gained the city, and sounded round the town what had been done. The Dutch men and women wondered greatly; but as day came and went and no Wolvus, they wondered yet more and more, till a farmer from Spuyt and Duyvel creek informed them, that late one night he heard a great hallowing which caused him, tho' with great fear, to rise, look out, and see whence it proceeded, whether from an owl or human being. He moment might have been witnessed one of the hardest fights upon which ever single man ventured. Ham after ham, loaf after loaf, were made to bound through the air, food for the ærial beings opposed to him. "Now I villed. dishcoffer," cried he, "vedder you is mine enemies. Shpirits tont eat, and if tey tont tey musht pe afrait of mine vechetaples. I vill make you hallo so moosh as more! I vill see if you vill shtant akainst me after I beshtow tis cappache." Collecting his almost exhausted strength, he elevated the firkin and gave a most desperate heave, but, alas! he threw himself with it, proving thereby that this last effort was too much for him. Finding himself in the water and his boat not discoverable for the darkness, his only hope of saving himself was to make for the shore, for, although he could not drown in consequence of his fat, he bethought himself that the waves night press his breath out of him, carry his floating body with the tide in the first calm past the city and display to the citizens the valorous Wolvus conquered. He could not bear this last thought, therefore he struck out for the land, determin-stated that he saw running, as if all the uglied to carry the war, if need be, into the very camp of the enemy. So soon as he landed among the bushes he was struck on all sides with what he imagined, harpoons, tridents and all such sort of warlike implements. He soon found these were not to be stood calmly and sought for his gun in his breeches pockets. It was not in either of them, but in the boat, and whither that had gone Wolvus did not take time to think. He came to the conclusion very soon that flight was better than remaining where he was, and he ran as fast as his weight would permit him, southward, along the land near the shore, finally striking his head against something most sound. He pushed and pushed again with his cranium till the obstacle gave way, when lo! his body was stretched full length on his own cabin floor. There was no movement afterward. The rays of the rising sun streamed through the doorway of Van Deek's hut, but no mortal was stirring within it. No noise issued therefrom except a hoarse snoring. The sun marked the hour of twelve when a boat struck upon the beach near the cabin, and soon after Dundersmasher and friends were in the presence of Wolvus's sleeping body. After an half hour's hard labor they succeeded in waking our knight and enquired how he had succeeded. They were answered to all their questions for a long time est animals were after him, a man whom he supposed to be Van Deek. This recital was sufficient. Word was instantly sent to the settlement at Albany, that in case a person answering the description of Wolvus should make his appearance there in a flighty manner, he should be stopped and cared for. But no Wolvus was ever again heard of. It may be recollected that some time since, a Frenchman, whom some call Sue, wrote a novel entitled the “ Wandering Jew;" it commences in a strange, uncouth style, somewhat like this: "There were two foot-prints, one on either side of Bherring's straits." This Frenchman through his novel goes on to prove, I believe, that these prints were made by the "Jew;" but such is not the fact, they are the only evidences of the whereabouts of our unfortunate, yet brave friend, Wolvus Van Deek, of Kipp's Bay, all two hundred years ago. [Later writers, of less etherial conceptions than the Knickerbocker historians of 1640, aver that the barriar alluded to in this chronicle was neither more nor less than the swift tide which always sets there. "The few Dutchmen," say they "who went so far from the city, were afraid to go up with the tide lest they should be carried into the hell-gate, and when the tide ran counter they were unable to stem it." The voices that Wolvus heard, are set down by the same writers, as the result of a singing in his head." EDITOR.] THE DREAMER. BY URIAH H. JUDAH. "And, yet, I dream Dream what? Were man more just, I might have been, A poor seamstress, after having toiled from | meted out;-but hark again; her dream is the rising of the sun to the hour of midnight, not yet ended :seeks for rest on her pallet of straw. Her eyes, wet with continual weeping at the consciousness of her miserable portion in life, and the increasing sorrows still awaiting, soon become closed in slumber, and she dreams,—but of what? that a change for the better will be wrought in her condition? No: Hark! she speaks "Not in the laughing bowers, Where, by green twining elms, a pleasant shade, At summer's noon is made; And where swift-footed hours Steal the rich breath of the enamored flowers, To trace the smooth ascent from earth to heaven. "Not on the couch of ease, With all the appliances of joys at hand; "But where the incessant din While the long summer day is pouring in, On winter nights, just covered from the sky; The time has been when this poor and suffering mortal was surrounded with affluence, and with joy, and when friends innumerable were at her command; but such is the uncertainty of human happiness, that the occupant of the stately mansion of to-day, may, on the morrow, be sheltered by the hovel of indigence, or be a homeless and weary wanderer, without friends, without fortune, without the favor of the great. Our dreamer has thus been subjected to the vicissitudes of life, having fallen from the enjoyment of the luxuries of wealth to the humble and dependant condition of a daily toiler, for the miserable pittance, which is so miserly The conscious crown to nature's blissful scene In just and equal brotherhood to glean, The ways of Providence are indeed beyond conception. Here is one of the feminine sex, delicately and nicely fashioned in the image of her God, possessed of every virtue that would adorn humanity, in the very flower of womanhood, with an intellect highly cultivated, and of feelings the most refined and sensitive, dragging out a most wretched existence, toiling on, and toiling on, without hope and without comfort, going to her midnight repose, ahungered and heartbroken, shivering in the severity of winter in her thin and tattered garments of summer, and soiling her work with the bitter tears as they fall from her red and swollen eyes.Great God! while this poor and afflicted lady is thus care-worn and poverty-stricken-thus tortured and desolate-how many villains throughout the land are basking in the sunshine of plenty, and revelling on the spoils wrested from honest industry! How many are rolling in their carriages, clad "in purple and fine linen," at the expense of the widow and orphan, and boasting of their riches, and their honor, and their character!-But again our dreamer speaks : "And, yet, I dream I, the despised of fortune, lift mine eye, Cheerless poverty is the lot of thousands of estimable beings, whose only crime is, that when the storms rage, and the hill-tops are whitened with snow, they have no roof to shelter them from the pitiless blasts of the winds of winter-no place to flee to for safety or for succor. And yet, it has, and will be so, from generation to generation. Ay! until the end of time. Rascality, and ignorance, and impudence, have prospered and fared sumptuously, while virtue, and talents, and moral worth, have walked barefooted, and in a starving state of abject wretchedness. Have prospered!-Ay! in this life, to all appearances; but there will yet come a day of reckoning, when their plunderings will be of no avail; when they will be deprived of their trappings of vanity, and when that justice will be awarded to them which they have withheld from others. Dreamer! I would rather take thy place, and thy chance for eternal felicity in the kingdom of God, on that final day, when the hearts of all will be opened for inspection, than to possess the filthy gold of thy oppressors. If thou shiverest on the cold and uncovered floor of thy solitary chamber, at the hour of midnight—if thou art starving, and gradually dying of wretchedness and woe-if thou art weary of the cares of life, and long to sink down into the tomb-thou hast the consciousness of reflecting that thy soul is untainted, and thy character uncontaminated. Though clouds to-day darken the earth and spread an increased gloom around thy pathway, to-morrow they may be dispelled by the glorious luminary, as he welcomes in beauty and in splendor the rising morn. True, thou art an orphan, and deprived of a father's protecting care, and a mother's enduring love but "our Father who art in heaven" will not desert his worthy children, and will extend his bounties to those who regard his mandates. True, the shades of eve have descended many a time and oft on this corrupted world, and thou without thy "daily bread," while others have been fattening on thy toil, and that of those like thee. She speaks again-list, reader list: "And, yet, I dream Dream of a sleep where dreams no more shall come, When I think of the countless sorrows which have fallen to the female portion of created mortality—when I ponder on the manifold trials which have been encountered by women since the first-formed of her race-I drop a tear of pity, that the noblest formation of His hand-the most beautiful specimen of His workmanship-should arrive at such a climax. Framed by the Almighty in a gentle mould, and fashioned with more fragile limbs, man should guard her with vigilant and unceasing care, and trample not on the sweetest flowcr of the field. The poet has eloquently conveyed the idea that, "Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn." Ah! how much greater and more afflicting has been his "inhumanity" to woman, and how many bitter tears has it caused to be shed in secrecy and in silence! How many graves of excellent ladies would now be tenantless, and how many lacerated hearts would cease to bleed, had more kindly feeling been exercised toward helpless and dependent-loving and confiding woman ! Life is but a dream, from which the slumbers of death will arouse us to a consciousness and a realization of its sad or happy realities. There are others beside our poor seamstress that are dreamers-that are slumberers in this "valley of tears”—that dream of riches and of honors which will never be theirs—of length of years and of unchanging bliss. But who dreams of the injustice that is roaming in our midst of the groans of anguish around-of the sorrows of the child of poverty-of the hundreds who go supperless to bed-of the empty tables about-of the shrieks of distress of the pains of sickness-of the blighted hopes of the dying? "Ah, little think the gay licentious proud, Who cares for our heart-broken dreamer? While others are enjoying the sweet sunshine of heaven, she is enclosed within her dreary and forsaken abode, deprived of the pure air so requisite to health, and every stitch she takes brings her nearer and yet nearer to the tomb that beautiful and placid repose of blasted hopes and abject misery. Her tomb!--the tomb of that dreamer.-Ah! when she yields her last breath in her poverty-stricken garret, who will then comfort her, when her soul raves round the walls of its THE AUTUMN WINDS. clay tenement? Who smooth her passage to the mound as it opens to receive the spirit's leavings? Who will hie to her sepulchre at the still and pensive hour of eve, and bid the nightingale sweet bird of song-chaunt a requium to her departed soul? And, when the lovely flowers of summer-the rose and the lily-shall perfume other graves with their richest fragrance, who will bid them blossom on her turf? The author of this truthful record of female sufferings, purports not to decry wealth, or to array the poor against the rich in enmity of that condition of affluence which cannot be attained by all. When riches are rightly bestowed on the kindly heart and the liberal hand-on those, who have "a tear for pity, and a hand open as day to melting charity" they become in their exercise a blessing to society, and confer, like "the quality of mercy," a twofold benefit. "No radiant pearl, which crested fortune wears, No gem, that twinkling hangs from beauty's ears, Nor the bright stars, which night's blue arch adorn, Nor rising suns that gild the vernal morn, Shine with such lustre, as the tear that breaks, For other's wo, down Virtue's manly cheeks." Dreamer! Awake! oh, awake from thy slum bers, and cast thy eyes toward Heaven, and fold thy hands in prayer.-"Give us this day our daily bread." One by one hath the glorious lights of night faded from my view, for I have outwatched the stars, and seen their fires 19 grow dim, and the moon go down in peerless She hears me not! Her dream is ended-it hath no further change; she sleeps that sleep which knows no waking. When the last lingering star was lost on the brow of day, and the ever-active luminary of heaven was bursting through the clouds, and imparting a matchless beauty to the sky, she-that afflicted child of sorrow-yielded up in pristine purity, without a murmur, or a groan, her noble immortality unto the God who gave it. As the portals of heaven sprang open, "kindred spirits" were calling her HOME, in the sweetest strains of celestial harmony. Reader! As the last sound of that heavenly music fell on the ear of one who had drank deep of the cup of bitterness, it cheered her amid the feebleness of the dying hour, and gilded with HOPE her pathway to the tomb: "Come, come, come ! Long thy fainting soul hath yearned THE AUTUMN WINDS. BY MISS M. E. WOOD. THE Autumn winds are sighing a requiem for the dead, The Autumn winds are sighing for the voices hushed and mute, The Autumn winds are sighing a dirge for summer gone, |