Gen. P. "Enoch Crosby was born in Massachusetts, in 1750. When he was only three years old, his father took him, and the rest of his family, into the state of New-York to live. He was a farmer, and had bought a farm in Southeast, a town which borders on the state of Connecticut.

"Southeast is a wild, rough, and romantic place. Its hills are high and steep. Several cataracts tumble over precipices, and fall upon the ear with deafening noise. Two rivers, called the Croton and the Mill river, wind through the place. Several large ponds enrich the scenery.

"In this rude, but yet delightful country, Enoch Crosby lived, till he was sixteen years old. He was a strong and active boy. He could climb the highest hills without fatigue, and walk on the brink of frightful precipices without fear. His playmates admired him for his courage. He always took the lead because they wished it—they loved him, because he was generous and noble.

"When Enoch was, sixteen years of age, misfortune came upon his father. The family had lived comfortably. They were prosperous farmers—but now, a blast came—I know not the cause—but it came, and they were poor.

"Enoch's father decided that his son must learn a trade. It was no hardship for him to work—this he had been accustomed to. In those times, people laboured harder than now-a-days. Industry was a virtue— idleness a shame. And it was hard labour, and solid fare, that made the men of those times so much stronger, than those of the present generation.

"Enoch loved labour, and was willing to learn a trade. But it was hard parting with friends, when the day arrived, that he was to go from home. It was settled that he should be a shoemaker, and should learn the trade of a man in a neighbouring town.

"The morning, at length, came, when he was to go. His bundle of clothes was nicely put up by his mother; and his father added a few shillings to his pocket—and then came the blessing of his worthy parents, with their good advice, that he should behave well, and attend to the duties of his place.

"And, said his tender mother—a tear starting from her eye, which she wiped away with the corner of her lindsey-woolsey, while she spake— 'your Bible, Enoch, you will find in your bundle—don't forget that—and you must pray for us—my son—'

"She could say no more—and Enoch could hear no more. Without even bidding them 'farewell'—for his heart was too full for that—he shouldered his little pack, and took his way down the lane, which led to the road he was to take.

"At a few rods distance, he stopped to take one more look of the old place, so dear to him. His mother was standing at the window. She had felt the full tenderness of a mother for him before—but his love of home—his pause—his gaze—his tears—now almost overwhelmed her.

Illustration_2

"Enoch caught a glimpse of his mother, and saw her agony. He could trust himself no longer—and summoning his energies, hurried over the hills, which soon hid the scenes of his youth from his view.

"In after years—many years after—even when he became an old man, he would speak of this scene, with deep feeling. He could never forget it. He said he felt for a time alone in the world—cut off from all he held dear. I do not wonder," said Gen. P. "that he felt much, for well do I remember the pain I felt, the first time leaving home."

CHAPTER II.