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"Here it is -- drink till you can't get down any more. You shall have all you want."

In their drunken spree, which lasted two days, they failed totally of finding the spring by which the box was opened, and at last Polly cast the box into the ashes, exclaiming, "Lie there, good-for-nothing old trinket!" Subsequently in poking for the treasure among the ashes, which fortunately were not hot, she rolled it out on the hearth rather violently, and before she could seize and hold it in her hand, it fell through the floor by one of its numerous apertures, and down under the walls of the house, not into the cellar apartment, nor any other part accessible but by removing the floor boards or the outside walls. And they could neither see nor reach it. Both were disconcerted by this, but they said it was safe there anyhow, and when they wanted it they would tear up the floor.

After old Mr. Warren had finished his morning sleep, he felt unusually comfortable, and when Eliza called him to dinner, he expressed great thankfulness to her for all her care and kindness. He made a good dinner also, and was in extraordinary spirits. So Eliza was very much relieved and put on her best smiles, and talked and laughed with him a long, long time. And by and bye George came in, and he ate his dinner happily and heartily, and took great interest in the old man's cheerfulness. And the sun-light of comfort and joy once more broke in on the little family circle there -- alas 1 how little cause for it. Could the old man have known what he had lost during that very sleep, what treasure had been pilfered from him, a gloom greater than ever would have marked his features, and sadness of a fearful kind settled on his heart. But he deems all safe, and it is therefore well with him.

CHAPTER XXIII.
HAG!

Early in the history of modern western emigration, Mr. and Mrs. McDougal removed from the east and located themselves on a farm in Western New York. They subsequently went out into Michigan, and there they raised a family of five sons and two daughters. The eldest daughter, who was a person of rather sedate mien, an intelligent, pious girl, beloved my -sic- many for her kindness of heart, and respected for her excellent judgment and good sense, in her twentieth year was married to a young clergyman of a neighboring town, and entered on the practical duties of a minister's wife among the people of his parish. These, in the infant settlements, the wide-spread parishes of the West, were numerous and self-denying. Both she and her husband lost their health in their employment, and were a long time enfeebled. Her mother, sister, and two of her brothers fell victims to the bilious fevers of the neighborhood, and they, at the direction of their friends, and especially of their physician, resolved on a journey to New England. Arrived there, they allowed themselves all needed recreation, and passed several weeks by the sea-shore, attending mainly to their health. They also went into the mountains and breathed the fresh air of those elevated northern regions, and soon perceived that they were rapidly recovering strength. In a comparatively short period, the husband began to preach here and there, and passed at one time several months in a parish, performing the duties of a minister. And by and bye it happened that he received an invitation to settle in one of the goodly towns of New England, where the finger of Providence pointed him so unmistakably as to a field proper for his efforts, that both he and his wife agreed for the time to sacrifice the "West, and make their abode at the East.

This clergyman and his wife were Mr. and Mrs. Rodman. They had now been five years at Crampton, and had become familiar with the people. But what was always a consideration of great interest to Mrs. Rodman, it was from this very town of Crampton her own mother removed in early life to the West when married to Mr. McDougal. Of course she had heard her speak of her eastern home, and of friends, many of whom were now no more. Mrs. Rodman had found very few relations of the family, even of distant connection, alive, although there were many persons in town who remembered her mother. It was a great pleasure to her to meet with any of the older citizens who could speak of her. She removed forty years before -- Mrs. Rodman herself being now over thirty years of age. The Phillips and Haddocks were themselves too young to remember. Squire Ben Stout and his wife recollected her well, as they were now sixty years of age.

Once when they were conversing on this topic. Squire Ben told her that if old Mr. Warren, who lived back a mile from the village, retained his memory still unimpaired, he could give her, as he thought, many statements of the early life of her mother which would be interesting. "Moreover," said the Squire, "if I remember rightly there was a distant relationship between the families by marriage -- I think so, somehow or other -- I have forgotten what, on my word."