from it, except their own supineness or sórdid views."
At the Sault Margaret found many natural beauties, and enjoyed, among other things, the descent of the rapids in a canoe. Returning to Mackinaw, she was joined by her friends, and has further chronicled only her safe return to Buffalo.
The book which preserves the record of this journey saw the light at the end of the next year's summer. Margaret ends it with a little Envoi to the reader. But for us, the best envoi will be her own description of the last days of its composition:—
“Every day I rose and attended to the many little calls which are always on me, and which have been more of late... Then, about eleven, I would sit down to write at my window, close to which is the apple-tree, lately full of blossoms, and now of yellow-birds.
"Opposite me was Del Sarto's Madouna; behind me, Silenus, holding in his arms the infant Pan. I felt very content with my pen, my daily bouquet, and my yellow-birds. About five I would go out and walk till dark; then would arrive my proofs, like crabbed old guardians, coming to tea every night. So passed each day. The 23rd of May, my birthday, about one d'clock, I wrote the last line of my little book. Then I went to Mount Auburn, and walked gently among the graves."
And here ends what we have to say about Margaret's New England life. From its close shelter and intense relations she was now to pass into scenes more varied and labours of a more general scope. She had become cruelly worn by her fatigues in teaching and in writing, and in the year 1844 was induced, by liberal offers, to accept a permanent position on the staff of the New
