tions by the late Thomas Cole. The grand series of pictures, stage to the Notch House, a distance of 30 miles, which he called "the Course of Empire," which he painted for the late reaches about 12 o'clock. He here can tarry, enjoying the comforts Samuel Ward of this city, and for which he received six thousand of the hotel kept by Thomas J. Crawford, and ascend the moundollars, are now in this exhibition." They have been purchased tains, or go some five or six miles further to Fabyan's, where he by the Art Union, and will be distributed in December as one of will also be sure of being warmly welcomed. Another route is the prizes to the members of the society. by the Lowell and Concord Railroad, to Concord; thence by railroad to Sanbornton, twelve miles further; thence by stage through Meredith and Centre Harbor to Conway, reaching it the same evening. Another route is by the Lowell and Concord Railroad, to Concord; thence by the Northern Railroad to Franklin-the cars will run as far as Bristol after the 1st of July-thence by stage by way of Plymouth, Lincoln, &c. to Franconia and Littleton, reaching the White Mountains on the following day. There is still another and very agreeable route from Concord over the Northern Railroad to Lebanon, thence by stage along the east

The hot season having commenced with its usual severity, as Horace Walpole used to say, people are beginning to leave the overheated, crowded and dirty cities of the South, for the green fields, mountain breezes and cool waters of the North. All the old watering places, Saratoga, Niagara Falls, the Pine Orchard House, Newport, Nahant and Long Branch are all put in order, and will, doubtless, be crowded by the gay, the idle, the rich, the beautiful and the blasé. But there have been two new watering places opened on the Atlantic, which will vie with any of the old established favourites on the sea coast. Mr. L. Thaxter, a gentle-ern bank of the Connecticut, through Haverhill, and along the man of education, and of fine taste for sublime scenery, in connection with an old resident of New Hampshire, has constructed on the rocky Island of Appledore, one of that romantic group of islets lying off the coast of Maine, called the Isles of Shoals, a commodious hotel for summer visitors; this will no doubt be one

of the most famous watering places in time, when its advantages

become known on our entire sea-board The inhabitants of

Nantucket have put up a spacious hotel at Siasconset, a high

bluff on the south end of that remarkable island, for the accommodation of summer visitors. Siasconset stands alone by itself, in sublime dreariness, among the ever heaving surf of the Atlantic, and for majestic scenery and rugged grandeur, can only be equalled by Niagara Falls. These unique watering places although both lying on the outer verge of creation, and as remote from the noise and bustle of the turbulent business world around us, are both easily accessible, and by nearly the same conveyances.

The magnificent steamers Empire State, and Bay State, the two finest boats on Long Island Sound, and probably in the world, land passengers at Fall River, whence they are taken by

Amonoosick Valley to Littleton, and the White Mountains.
We would advise the traveller, however, by all means, to go to
the White Mountains by the way of Conway, on either of the
two first routes, and return by either of the others.

Bartlett, the traveller reaches the farm of the venerable Abel
About twenty-one miles from Conway, after passing through
Crawford, embosomed in the mountains, where an excellent ho-

tel is kept.

A recent traveller to the White Mountains says:

"It may be desirable to some persons to know the amount of the expenses of a short tour to the White Mountains I find the fare for stage travelling, generally higher than in this vicinity, but the charges at public houses are not unreasonable. I left Portland on Saturday morning, on my journey, and reached Boston on Friday evening following. I deprived myself of no usual comforts on my journey, and indulged in no unnecessary expenses, and by recurring to my memorandum book, I find the sum of my expenses, from the time of leaving Portland until my return to Boston, was twenty-three dollars eleven cents. During my absence, I travelled 186 miles by mail-coach, 15 miles by foot, and 75 miles by railroad."

railroad to the beautiful town of New Bedford in season for an early breakfast, which the pure air and the morning ride will give a relishing appetite for. At New Bedford you are always sure of fine fresh fish, porgies, cod, bluefish, halibut or swordfish, and sometimes all of them. After taking a look at the thrifty city of New Bedford, its trim gardens, well swept streets, salt works, ships, and elegant mansions, you embark on board the steamer for Nantucket, where you arrive in the afternoon, and if you like to ride out to the Atlantic House at Siasconset, and lie all night listening to the thundering roar of the waves as they dash upon the hard pebbly beach, or you may sleep in town at the Ocean House, and in the morning take a ramble through the sinuous streets of this quaint and weather-beaten old town. The passageto Appledore is made through Boston to Newburyport, at which place you em-lation to think of these things. But bark in a boat for the Isles of Shoals. At either place you will be sure of good air, and plenty of fish, ocean scenery, and a hearty welcome. Let all the enervated denizens of our cities who have steamed eleven months out of the twelve in hot rooms, and inhaled the impure exhalation from poisonous gutters, go to the Isles of Shoals or Siasconset, (the better way would be to go to both places) and renew their lease of life by inhaling the pure air and indulging in the simple pleasure of these romantic watering places. The White Mountains are great favourites with our ⚫hunters after the picturesque. the Ocean and the mountains divide between them the seekers after health and pleasure during the hot weather.

The many delightful residences in the neighbourhood of New York are innumerable, and so many advantages do they all possess, it is quite impossible to designate the most desirable. Hoboken, New Brighton, Clifton, Flushing, Astoria, Bull's Ferry, Fort Lee, West Point, and any of the romantic little towns which lie snugly among the Highlands of the Hudson. Happy is he who can fly from the cares of a daily business and dally with Nature in the hot months, sitting by rippling streams, and reclining beneath the shade of venerable trees; drinking pure milk, inhaling the perfume of flowers, and eating ripe fruits freshly gathered from the trees. To those who cannot go it must be some conso

O Can the four letters R, O, S and E,

The rose's blush and perfume bring to me ?"

Hardly. We would give more for one sniff of a field of red clover, than whole volumes of descriptions of rural delights. It is well enough of a winter's night, before a grate full of glowing arthracite and sitting under one of the brilliant lamps of Dietz and Brother, to read in Thomson's descriptions of Summer and Spring, but in the summer time such reading is intolerable, as it gives such an intense longing for the realities.

The admirable protrait of the Rev. Dr. Potts which we give in this number of our magazine, was engraved by Mess. Orr & Richardson, from a beautiful daguerreotype, taken at the gallery of Mr. Morand of 131 Chatham street, one of the best daguerreo

There are four routes from Boston, direct to the White Mountains. First, by the way of the railroad to Great Falls in New Hampshire, thence by stage coach through Rochester, Wake-type artists in the country. The other pulpit portraits with which field, Ossipee, &c., to Conway, which is reached about eight o' we shall illustrate the future numbers of our magazine, will come clock, P. M. On the following day, the traveller is conveyed by from this establishment in all cases.

OXFORD..

the city.

In our last number we gave two views of remark- not unfrequently the seat of royalty. Alfred is said to ible buildings in the venerable and picturesque city, have resided here; and some of his coins still exist, Oxford. This month we present our readers with on which the name of the city is inscribed. In 1010 a view of the city taken from the river Thames, it was burned by the Danes, but it appears to have near Whitham Park, the stately domain of the Earl of been quickly restored; for, not long after, it is spoken Abingdon. Oxford is the most famous seat of learning of as the residence of Edmund Ironsides, who died in the world, and from its frequent mention in the clas- here, as was supposed, by unfair means, in 1016. sical literature of England, cannot be otherwise than During the reign of his successor, Canute, the great interesting to an American reader. To Englishmen, council of the nation was often held at Oxford. After Oxford, more than any other city in Great Britain, is the death of Canute, it was here that the Council met full of objects of the deepest interest, and is generally to decide on the rival claims of Harold and Hardicaregarded as the most beautiful town in the Kingdom. nute to the throne. In accordance with their deciIt contains a larger and richer display of medieval sion, Harold was crowned at Oxford; and it was at and academic architecture than any other; and it Oxford that he died. At the Norman invasion the yields to none in picturesque variety. Indeed, apart citizens of Oxford refused to submit to the Conqueror; from its attractions in point of taste, the place could and when, after his coronation, he marched into Oxhardly fail to be regarded with more than common in-fordshire, they resolutely denied him admittance into terest, wherein so many great men laid the foundation of their greatness in that "culture and manurance of the mind," as Bacon terms it, which not alone prepared them to produce such abundant fruit in their season, but by its "forcible though unseen operation," conduced more than anything else to formation and completion of their whole moral and mental character; and that so abounds with recollections and associations which appeal to the loftiest feelings, and are connected with so much that is important in history. Few who think of its fame, and recollect its associations, and recognize the dignity of its position, can approach it for the first time without some (it may be vague) excitement of feeling; and assuredly, none who do so approach it are disappointed. When even those come to visit it, who, from carelessness or prejudice, usually regard it with indifference or dislike, the genius of the place seldom fails to seize hold of them; gradually better and kindlier feelings supersede those which were be-long baffled all Stephen's attempts to get her into his fore cherished; and the placid grandeur, the peaceful venerableness, of this ancient favourite of the Muses, is recognized and respected A first visit to Oxford is a thing to remember.

Like almost every ancient city, Oxford has sought the aid of fable in order to extend its antiquity. It is, however, hardly worth our while to inquire whether it was a city in the shadowy era of the early British princes, or to search after the date of its foundation; nor stay to "consider curiously" into the origin of its name. It seems to be generally allowed that the name arose from there having been a ford across the Thames here; but Warton, and some other learned writers, have attempted to show that it was originally called Ousen-ford, or the Ford of the Ouse, a usual Saxon name for a river; and they think their hypothesis is supported by the preservation of the word in Ouseney, or Oseney Abbey, in the adjacent meadows; while the common opinion is, that Oxford owes its name to the ford being one chiefly used for oxen. This last is the favourite etymology of antiquaries, and it is that adopted by the city itself, which carries as its arms "an ox gules passing through a ford." The name was written Oxnaford by the Saxons; in the Domesday Survey it is Oxeneford; and Oxenford it continued to be written down to a comparatively recent period.

Whatever was the date of its foundation, it was a place of some consequence in Saxon times, and was

Henry I. appears to have entertained considerable partiality for the town, perhaps, as Wood asserts, from his having been educated there. He built for himself a residence at Oxford, which was called Beaumont Palace, and was occasionally occupied by royalty down to the time of Edward II. who gave it to the society of Carmelite Friars for a monastery. A dilapidated fragment of it remained till 1830, when it was removed to make way for a new street, which, from its occupying the site of the palace, received the name of Beaumont street.

In the war between Stephen and Matilda, Oxford Castle was garrisoned for the empress-queen; and hither it was that she fled when driven out of London by the citizens. Somewhat later it was the scene of one of her most romantic adventures. Towards the end of 1142 she kept her court at Oxford. She had

power; and he now marched against the city in which she was, with the avowed determination not to quit the siege till she was his prisoner. The city he soon stormed and burnt; but the queen retreated into the castle, which refused to listen to any terms. The winter set in with unusual severity, but the king prosecuted the seige with unabated vigour. For nearly three months he had been before the castle, and every effort that had been made to convey provisions to the besieged had been defeated. He knew that famine must soon open an entrance to him. He felt assured that at last the bird was in the toils, and every avenue of escape diligently guarded. The brave garrison, however, knew their duty. They might die, but they would not yield their queen a prisoner. It was not till she, as well as themselves, was nearly starved to death, that submission was spoken of. The surrender was fixed for the 21st of December; but on the night before it took place, the queen resolved to attempt an escape by one of those bold stratagems she knew so well how to contrive and execute, and which had been suggested to her by the rigour of the season. Snow covered the fields; the many arms into which the river here separates were frozen over. Here was her hope. Clothed in white, and accompanied by three trusty knights similarly clothed, about midnight, she stole quietly out of a postern, and gliding, like a ghost, over the frozen river and snow-clad fields, passed unquestioned by the besiegers.

THE MYSTERIOUS HUNTSMAN.

CHAPTER 1.

A TALE OF ILLINOIS.

BY PAUL CRAYTON.

THE FAMILY ON THE RIVER DES PLAINES.

[ORIGINAL.]

To him who has been pent up in the walls of a city during a portion of his life, or to him who has sailed for months upon the ocean without beholding land, there can be no sight more beautiful, more refreshing, than the prairie, between the months of May and October.

handsome, was at least dignified and manly. He lived alone upon the edge of the prairie, dividing his time between hunting, fishing, and cultivating a small tract of land which he had purchased. He was affa ble to all; but there was only one being whose society he courted; and that one was Ellen Austin. In fact, matters had been carried so far that it was rumored that Clinton Grover and Ellen Austin were soon to be united by bands which Death alone can sever. It is needless to say that Ellen's companions cautioned her We speak not of the prairie which has been de-against encouraging the addresses of one she scarcely scribed as low, monotonous, and capable of giving root and nourishment to naught but tall coarse grass, but of the prairie as it really exists-broad, fertile, undulating, covered with a robe of the richest green, and ornamented with a variety of the loveliest wild flowers--in short, of the prairie which the first of American poets has so beautifully described, and which we have wandered over in person, day after day, with no companion save our dog and gun.

Within a few years the population of the prairies of Illinois, has increased with astonishing rapidity. The banks of all the principal rivers, which are bordered for the most part with thickets and heavy oak trees, are now inhabited by emigrants from almost every portion of the world. The timber is fallen, the deer is hunted from his native home, and on the broad prairies, which extend from stream to stream, houses, barns, and fields of grain appear.

knew, and who was apparently poor and friendless. However, there was something in Clinton's appearance that dispelled all her doubts, and won her heart in spite of his poverty and mysterious course of life.

CHAPTER II.

THE INN.

It was in the month of August; the day was drawing to its close, and the shades of evening were gath ering slowly over the prairie. It was at that hour when day seems to melt gently away, and the stars appear faint and glimmering, upon the canopy of heaven.

Upon the banks of the Reviere des Plaines, several A hunter, at that time, might have been seen plodmiles south of the famous Mount Juliet, which School- ding his way along the sloping banks of the Des craft has so ably described, there dwelt, not many Plaines. His gun was upon his shoulder, and his years ago, a family which had emigrated from Ver-game-bag, filled with a dozen fat grouse, or prairiemont. The population at that time was somewhat hens, was strapped upon his back. A faithful pointer, thinner than at present, but still the neighbourhood faint and weary, followed close behind him, stopping in which this family resided, boasted of many respec-occasionally to bathe his burning tongue in the watable emigrants from the Eastern States. Of these, ters of the stream. none were more highly esteemed than the family in question, and surely none possessed a finer locality or richer lands. In short, Mr. Austin was an industrious, enterprising, and benevolent man; his wife a fit companion for such an individual, and the fair Ellen, the worthy offspring of an upright father, and a once beautiful and still good-looking mother.

Besides Ellen, who was sixteen years of age, Mr Austin had another child-a son--who had remained at the East to finish his education, and who, at the time our story opens, was daily expected by his parents in the West. This young man was of a fiery disposition, talented, but self-conceited, headstrong, and above all, bitterly satirical.

Not far from the residence of Mr. Austin, which, as we have said, was on the banks of the Des Plaines, there lived a young man of an eccentric disposition, about whose existence a sort of a mystery hung. He was about twenty-five years of age, tall, well made, dark complexioned, and possessed of a most striking and expressive countenance, which, if not

This hunter was no other than Clinton Grover. In the middle of the afternoon he had wandered forth to enjoy his favourite sport, and giving way to the excitement of the hunt, had carelessly proceeded several miles from home. Hunger now became pressing, and having left the prairie for the bank of the stream, he began to look forward in hopes of seeing the wellknown roof of a tavern which was situated on the river Des Plaines.

At length, after proceeding some distance down the stream, the inn of the "White Rabbit" appeared in view. This was a rudely constructed building, designed for the accommodation of hunters and travellers in that portion of the West; and well it carried out its design, as we ourself can witness, having more than once had occasion to test the skill of the good landlord, and to taste his wines, his venison and wild fowls.

Clinton entered without ceremony, and giving his gun and bag of game into the hands of Boniface, threw himself carelessly upon á lounge.