The doctor hastily seized the box-a wild strain of music issued from the interior, but he returned it to the chest.

"To-morrow, mine frient," said the doctor; "to-morrow, mine very goot frient-we will make de grant experiment."

He then explained, by the help of Facias, that it was necessary for the farmer to deposite in the earth a goodly sum of gold, which, by its chemical affinity, would draw all the loose metal to its neigh. borhood, and indicate the region of the vein. As for the guardian demon, Doctor Vanbrunner promised to subdue him. So the parties separated for the night. But 'ere he went to bed, Joe Bolton committed one hundred guineas to the bosom of the earth.

CHAPTER IV.

For one brief night Farmer Bolton enjoyed all the feelings of a millionaire. I once heard of a man, who was informed by a bill stuck in an office window that his lottery ticket had drawn the highest prize. He took a short turn to recover from the shock of his good fortune, but when he returned to the window, he found the number of the fortunate ticket had been changed. So fared it with honest Joe Bolton; he had no sooner formed his plans for the disposal of his fortune, than it vanished like the mirage of the desert. But I am anticipating.

The night which followed the interview with the doctor was gloomy as the preceding one, and the gold-hunting trio arrived at the spot, drenched and dispirited. The doctor placed the lanthern on a stone, and produced a bottle of the magical elixir. It revived the spirits of the party, and they went to work. The clouds at midnight broke away from the face of heaven, and the moon came shining out like a silver lamp, hailed as a welcome omen by the doctor and the farmer. The clink of pick-axe and spade announced an important discovery, and the united strength of the party was requisite to bring to light a huge iron pot of ponderous weight. This was an unexpected piece of good fortune, for it was filled to the brim with Spanish gold coins of a very ancient date. A little deeper they came to an old mouldering oaken chest, crammed, like the iron pot, with ancient coins. Then pile after pile of shining ore was rescued from the earth. Among other things Dr. Vanbrunner turned up Bolton's box of guineas. As the gray light of the morning began to streak the distant east, the exhausted trium. virate sat down to a division of the spoils.

"To you, doctor," said the joyous farmer, "belongs half."

"No-no-" said the disinterested Dutchman. "Dis hundret guineas is enough for me."

"Not so," replied honest Bolton. "At least, let me add a handful of these coins."

"Enough! enough!" cried the Dutchman. "Py Gott! I vill take no more, mein frient."

"As for you, Maister Facias," said Bolton, "your share is a fair third."

"Not a doit! not a stiver!" cried the generous Facias. "All I ask is this, friend Bolton. In future, think better of attorneys for my sake."

The Dutchman and Facias then shook hands with Bolton and departed. The farmer went home, harnessed his horse to his wag. gon, returned and carried off the spoil. Overcome with fatigue and excitement, he threw himself upon his bed and slept. When he awoke again it was high noon. The family had breakfasted, and his wife met him with reproaches as he descended to the parlor.

"Ah! wife! wife!" cried the honest man. "If you knew what I'd been about, you wouldn't look so desput cross this morning."

The mystery was soon explained-The iron pot, the oaken chest, and the waggon-load of ore produced. Alas! poor Bolton! All thy imaginary wealth was brass and copper. The deception was but too apparent. He rushed to the Banner of Liberty. Colonel Hateful Bemis and Captain Sy were there, but where was the great Dutch doctor? From hence the infuriated yeoman went in search of Facias. His sign hung by one nail: the door was locked-the shutters were unclosed. The lawyer, who was deeply in debt, had doubtless eloped. The whole truth flashed upon the mind of Bolton. Facias and the doctor were in league together, and had shared the hundred guineas between them. They were never seen in Holly. wood again. As for Farmer Bolton, he looked rather gloomy for a time, but by and by good cheer and heavy crops restored his spirits, Jolly Joe became himself again, and though he now relates his story with good humor, yet he never fails to add-ALL IS NOT

GOLD THAT GLITTERS.

LOSS OF THE HOME.

BY GRACE GRAFTON.

WERE there no mysterious warnings heard

On the morn of the fatal day

When the treacherous bark her anchor weighed, And sailed from the peaceful Bay?

'Mid the trusting hearts that thronged her deck, Were no guardian angels near,

To bid them beware of the worthless craft,-
To whisper of death and fear?

No, no-such warnings are not of earth,

Nor yet of the pathless sea-

Hope spread her smile o'er the glancing wave, And laughed in the breezes free.

So they stood out boldly before the wind,

And entered the lonely main;

A fated band of a hundred souls,

Who never trod earth again.

For the vessel-a graceful, gilded thing—
Might float on a summer wave;

But the roaring blast, and the boiling surge,
Their might she could not brave.

When the raging winds and the waters wild
O'erpowered the luckless crew,

And when darker hours of dread came on,
Still those trusting hearts were true.

They fluttering beat in the youthful breasts
Of those who in beauty stood;

And toiling, bent their graceful forms
To cope with the rising flood.

In vain, in vain their fingers soft
They dipt in the briny wave,
The baffled pumps were plied in vain-
Wide yawned their watery grave!

Dim twilight grew on their wistful gaze,
And the dreary day was done,

And deadly fear pressed on every heart
As the night came darkly on.

For Death was heard in the moaning sea,
He howled in the raging storm;

And they shuddered to meet his cold embrace-
Those bosoms so young and warm.

A booming sound, through the tempest's strife,
Was heard as they neared the shore,
That unto the deep made hoarse reply-
'Twas the breakers' hollow roar!

'Twas a knell of death to the tempest tossed-
'Twas a hungry, ravening cry,

As of spirits vex'd from the troubled deep-
Of fiends from the angry sky.

Now the reeling vessel headlong struck,
Her parting beams gave way,
And the wrathful waters swept the spot
Where the shattered fragments lay.

And the trusting hearts that thronged her deck,
That so wildly clustered there-

Oh! where shall we seek their resting-place?
And the billows answered-" Where !"

ON THE LATE TRIUMPH.

REJOICE, Oh sons of Freedom, that the cause

So long contended for, hath soared at last, And breasted, as an eagle doth the blast, That fierce rebellion waged against the laws

And all those blood-bought, consecrated rights,
In which the heart of Liberty delights!
Rejoice with music! let the martial ring

Of cymbals tell your glorious jubilee;
Let cannon boom along th' encircling sea;
And human voices the glad anthem sing.
Rejoice with light! let beacon splendors blaze
On every hill-top; let the rocket fires
Shoot to the sky their many-colored spires,
And words of flame record the Nation's praise!

P. B.

USURY LAWS.

PUBLIC sentiment has been a good deal called forth within the past month on the subject of the Usury Laws, and upon occasion of an attempt, by men claiming to be honest, to exercise the pri vileges which those laws are intended to confer upon rogues. For the protection they offer against the alleged evils of usury is an insult to an honest man; and among the very legislators who vote for it, probably not one could be found who would not spurn the idea of pleading usury to avoid payment of a debt fairly and understandingly contracted. The law, therefore, assuming the usurer to be a rogue, provides in effect that he shall only cheat or rob honest men, or, at all events, men willing to be considered such, and having some regard for the external appearance and repu. tation of honor and conscience. Men who have none, are, happily, now rare; and they occupy a footing to which very few who have once been in a situation to obtain credit on any terms can be induced to descend. Usury, therefore, is rarely plead, and when it is, an excitement of the public mind is produced, and the merits and demerits of the Solons of Albany are freely canvassed, and speculations entered into as to the average depth of their understandings, which would end in wagers, were any means in existence to decide them. Is it not marvellous how well, upon the whole, every thing goes on in our community? Is it not certain, that in a vast majority of cases our laws are equitable and efficient; that they go straight to the common sense of a matter, and set chicanery at defiance? Is it not true, to a very great extent, (and perhaps with only this one gross exception,) that common sense is law, and that the most direct applications of it possible are made? The late stop law upon sales of mortgaged property might be cited as an. other case of exception, if it were assumed to be, in fact, a law; but it comes so decidedly under the objection of impairing the obligation of contracts, that we think, should it be questioned, it cannot stand. There may be other cases, but not enough to invalidate our general remark, that the figs this tree bears predominate vastly over the thistles; and that, considering that there are thistles, it is positively miraculous that there are not more. It is an excellence of republican institutions, which developes itself in practice, which could hardly have been divined by any reasoner before