sister toward the woods that stretched down to the water's edge, a little beyond the cottage, and they were soon out of sight.

In a short time, the little party that remained on the sands, were alarmed by a succession of violent shrieks, accompanied by another voice laughing loudly; and looking up the river, they perceived Madeline alone in a little boat, drifting out from behind a projecting point of rock, and evidently in great terror, while Frederick stood on the shore leaning against a tree, and ridiculing her fears. They all ran to her assistance, Gustavus foremost, and Mr. Ormsby supporting the trembling steps of his wife.

Suddenly a steam-boat, on her way down from Albany, came round the stupendous head-land absurdly called Butter Hill, and emerged into sight with thick clouds of smoke issuing from her chimneys, her wheels throwing up volumes of foam, and her prow dashing aside the water with a velocity that seemed irresistible. The shrieks of poor Madeline redoubled when she saw this tremendous machine coming on with a force that apparently nothing could stop, and threatening, in a few minutes, to overwhelm her little boat, unnoticed and unseen. Frederick was now terrified himself, and he called out to his sister, "Oh! Madeline, what have I done! The steam-boat will run over you. She will be upon you in three minutes."

"No, no," exclaimed Gustavus, "do not be frightened, Madeline. The boat is too far off; there is no danger." "We will get you immediately out of the way," cried her father, "but they will see you from the steam-boat, and avoid passing too near you." "Where is the rope," asked Gustavus, "by which this little boat was fastened?" "Here, here," said Frederick, "round the stump of this old tree. I proposed to Madeline that we should go and sit in the boat which we found at the water's edge. And as soon as I got her in, I thought that just for fun, and to set her to screaming, I would cut the rope with my knife and let her float off. I supposed she would drift down to the place where you were all sitting, and I only meant to frighten her. I knew that somehow she could be got out of the boat."

In the mean time, having lengthened the rope by fastening to it all their pocket handkerchiefs and Mrs. Ormsby's long shawl, Gustavus took one end in his hand, (the other being fast to the tree,) and jumping into the river, swam to the boat, by which means it was immediately hauled in to the shore, and in a few moments the affrighted little girl was safe in the arms of her parents, mingling her tears with those of her mother.

Mr. Ormsby's indignation was so much excited, that he declared if there was time to reach the wharf before the arrival of the steam-boat, Frederick should be put on board, and sent immediately down to New York. This, however, was impossible, the boat being now close at hand; and as Frederick appeared very penitent, and made fair promises of never again being guilty of similar conduct, his father, at the intercession of Gustavus and Madeline, consented to pardon him, and for the remainder of the day he behaved perfectly well.

On the following afternoon, they set out on a walk in another direction, and Frederick, who had been very good all the morning, was allowed to accompany them.

They went first to the Moss House, constructed, at his leisure hours, by the French cook at the hotel, and entirely the work of his own hands. He had opened a path through the thick woods, (hitherto in this place an impassable wilderness,) and carried it down the declivity of a craggy hill that descends to the river. This path, though narrow, steep, and winding, was neither rugged nor dangerous, and the trees interlacing their branches, formed an impervious shade across it. At its termination was a little garden, surrounded on all sides by a high wall of rough stones piled one on another, the interstices filled up with earth from which various wild plants were growing. This wall was overhung with masses of the forest grape-vine and other woodland shrubbery. The miniature garden was laid out in walks and heart-shaped beds, and planted with flowers, among which were lady-slippers, pinks, and convolvuluses. In one corner stood the moss-house, made of cedar branches, trimmed and cut of even length, filled in between with earth, and covered all over with a thick coat of the rich and beautiful moss that abounds in the woods and on the rocks of West Point. The door was open, and inside was a sort of settee, also of moss, and a little table made of twisted vine branches. In the garden near the house, was another rustic seat, or bench, the back formed of small boughs, curiously interwoven. Innumerable birds had taken up their residence near this charming retreat, and enlivened its dark shades with their brilliant colours. The oriole darted from tree to tree with his splendid plumage of orange and black, the blue-bird fluttered about in azure and purple, the yellow-hammer far surpassed the tints of the brightest canary, and the cedar-bird displayed his beautiful pinions of the richest brown, delicately pencilled at the edges with lines of fine scarlet, while the little humming-bird hovered over the flowers, and looked like a flying gem.

The Ormsby family next visited the monument erected by the cadets in commemoration of the gallant Kosciusko, who crossed the Atlantic to take a part in the American contest for independence, and who afterward so nobly, but unsuccessfully, defended the rights of Poland, his own ill-fated country. The monument is a fluted column of white marble, on a broad pedestal, simply inscribed with the name of Kosciusko. It stands near the ruins of Fort Clinton, on the eastern side of the plain, and on one of the lofty and abrupt heights that overlook the river.

They then descended to Kosciusko's Garden, a picturesque retreat half way down the rocks. Here, while with our army at West Point, the Polish officer had been accustomed to spend a portion of his leisure hours; and he had embellished the wild and rugged spot by planting it with lilacs and rosebushes. The cadets, with the surplus of the money subscribed by them for the erection of Kosciusco's monument, have facilitated the descent to this romantic and interesting retreat, (which was before almost inaccessible to ladies,) by causing to be made a long flight of stone stairs, firm and convenient, but sufficiently rude to be in unison with the surrounding scenery. These stairs, winding down between the rocks, lead to a beautiful grassy platform, backed by a lofty precipice of granite, which the hand of nature has ornamented with wild flowers that creep along its ledges, and shrubs and saplings that grow out from its crevices. Under a willow which droops on the level beneath, is a fountain bubbling in a basin of white marble, sculptured with the name of Kosciusko, and surrounded with flowering shrubs similar to those planted by the hero of Poland.

On the northern side of this beautiful spot the rocks are broken into the most picturesque masses, and shaded with forest trees of infinite variety; their foliage at this time displaying the liveliest tints of spring. The wild grape-vine clasped its crooked and wandering branches round the mossy stones, and scented the air with its fragrant blossoms; and the woodland honeysuckle threw around the sweetest odours from its clustered flowers of the most delicate pink. In front a shelf of rock projected over the river, whose clear blue waters glided far below, reflecting in their calm mirror "the headlong mountains and the downward skies." On the opposite shore rose the highlands of Putnam county; and Gustavus explained to his aunt and cousins, that in the year 1779, all the heights nearest the water had been crowned with batteries and covered with tents, the American army being