The Beautiful Half Breed
Author: Bradbury, Osgood
Date: 2016-09-29T05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction
Description: Ebook prepared by crutledge@knology.net
Rights: Public Domain

TABLE of CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII

CHAPTER XIX

CHAPTER XX

CHAPTER XXI

CHAPTER XXII

CHAPTER XXIII

CHAPTER XXIV

CHAPTER XXV

CHAPTER XXVI

CHAPTER I

Dost thou love pictures?, we will fetch thee straight,
Adonis painted by a running brook,
And by there Dian all in sedges hid,
Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.'

'HOW beautifully the moonbeams play upon the green leaves of yonder maple,' said a half Indian girl to her father, as they sat in the door of their lodge one pleasant evening, in the depths of the forest of Northern New York. 'See, too, that moonlit wake in the water of the lake! Something is swimming there!'

The Indian father brushed away from his eyes the long dark hair which had fallen over his forehead, and partially covered his face, and gazed towards the lake.

'Ah! a large buck!' replied the father of the beautiful girl. 'And he's crossing the lake and swimming for our shore.'

'So he is!' she said, suddenly rising and seizing her gun. 'I will shoot him as he comes out of the water.'

'Hark!' whispered the Indian. 'Don't you hear the howling of a wolf upon the other side of the lake?'

'O, yes, and he has driven the deer into the lake!' she answered

'Let the deer pass, and watch for the wolf as he comes round upon the shore to give chase again for him,' he said. 'I hate these creatures! Shoot the wolf and let the buck go free.'

'I will,' she replied, hurrying from the lodge to the shore, and concealing herself under the cover of some bushes. Her father followed in her tracks with his gun, and hid himself behind a large tree not far from her. He felt quite sure the wolf would come round upon the shore to head off the deer, he did not intend to let him escape with his life in case his daughter should miss him, or slightly wound him. Besides, he did not know but there might be more than one of the savage creatures.

'There are two wolves, for I hear another!' said the excited daughter.

I hear them, too,' he replied. 'Do' fire until both come into sight, then shoot the one forward, and I will take the one behind.'

Anxiously did they wait for the approach of their victims. The noble buck was swimming for his life directly towards them, while they first gazed upon him, and then ran their eyes along upon the rocky shore in search of the wolves. On came the buck, parting the waters with his breast, and struggling with all his might for the land. The moonbeams danced upon the rippled waters as two wakes passed from his breast, streaming out into the lake, and forming an acute angle. The night was still, and not a breath of air disturbed the mirror-like surface of the water. The scene was exceedingly beautiful. The buck had approached so near them they could not only distinctly see his uplifted head above the water, but also hear him. The girl and her father were a few feet from each other, so that they could converse together in a subdued voice.

'O, he's a noble buck!' whispered the excited maiden. 'I should love to shoot him!'

'Don't look at him, but keep watch for the wolves,' replied her father, intently gazing along the shore where he expected to see the bloodthirsty creatures.

'I can see both ways,' she replied, first looking in one direction, and then in another.

'Yes, but don't let the wolve escape,' he replied, raising his gun towards his shoulder, so as to be ready for the game at an instant's warning.

The buck had now approached within a few rods of the shore, quite within gun-shot, but he was safe so long as the wolves were expected. He now reached bottom, and leaped towards the shore, making a loud splashing in the water, and stopping a moment within ten paces of the bushes in which the maiden was concealed, and then bounded off into the forest. The heart of the girl heat rapidly as she saw the noble buck stand so near her, and then bound away from her sight.

'Let him go,' whispered the old Indian. 'Look out for the wolves! they will soon be here.'

As the deer had now passed into the forest, the fair maiden's attention was not divided, and she watched narrowly for the coming of the savage animals. Her eyes were sharp, and her ears open to catch the least sound.

'I hear them, father?' she whispered in a tremulous voice, raising her gun to her shoulder, and feeling her heart beat against her sides as if it were struggling for more ample space.

'Be steady, and don't miss the rascals,' replied the Indian, in a low voice, while his keen eyes peered through the shrubbery that bordered the lake, and his gun was firm at his shoulder.

On came the wolves with their tongues hanging at the sides of their mouths, and their noses pointing directly towards the fair and excited maiden. A thin white cloud passed over the bright face of the moon for a moment, but it did not much obscure her light, nor conceal the running animals from the keen eye of this wild and beautiful girl. A moment more, and the report of her gun, immediately followed by that of her father's, echoed over the waters, and the forward wolf lay dead in his track.

'I have killed him dead!' she exclaimed, leaping from her place of concealment, and running towards her victim.

'Stay!' said her father, 'I have only wounded the one I fired at. Keep still, and I will load again.'

'You've broke his back, and he can't run away,' she replied, running towards the creatures, and not heeding her father's admonition.

He followed her while in the act of again charging his gun. True, as she said, he had wounded the wolf in the back so severely, that his hind legs were rendered entirely as locomotives. The wounded beast struggled for his life, and dragged himself by his fore legs some distance before his enemies came up with him. When the overtook him he ceased to move, and looked exceedingly mean and sheepish. He was the larger of the two, and his gray eyes sparkled in the light of the moon, while the froth hung round his jaws, and his coarse hair bristled upon his shoulders. They stood off a few paces and gazed upon the wounded beast. The maid walked round him at a safe distance, and he dragged himself about so as continually to face her, while the Indian finished the loading of his gun.

'Let me kill him,' she said, 'I love to shoot them, they hurt the deer so cruelly.'

'Do as you please,' he replied, resting the but of his piece upon the ground, and gazing into her lovely, expressive face, as the moonbeams fell upon it.

'Then I will charge my own gun and shoot him,' she replied, beginning to re-load her beautiful fowlingpiece which had been given to her but a few weeks previous, by an American Officer, who was then stationed at Plattsburgh.

She was soon ready, and the wounded wolf received a charge of shot in his head, and ceased to breathe.

'You see, father, my gun does the work faithfully,' she said, sweetly smiling.

'A very good gun, and I have taught you how to use it,' he replied. 'Some bushes concealed the wolf's head and shoulders when I fired. I dared wait no longer.'

'Perhaps if you waited he might have escaped, she said.

'He would have turned back, and we should have lost him,' he answered, while he stood erect and motionless, like a statue upon the shore. He was tall, and his frame well knit together. The snows of sixty winters had fallen upon him, but he possessed great muscular energy and power of endurance.

'O, I should have felt sorry to see him escape from both of us,' she said, 'Don't you think, father, my gun is better than your's?'

'I suppose you think so, and would think so if it were not half so good as it is, because the handsome American Officer gave it to you,' he replied, while a faint smile played over his dark-weather-beaten features.

'He is a handsome man,' she replied, laughing and turning over the dead wolf with her foot.

'Don't you remember that I showed you last summer a large snake in the act charming a beautiful bird?' he asked.

O, I do, and how the poor bird did fluster round his head!' she replied.

'Yes, and if I had not killed the snake, the innocent bird would soon have been crushed between his jaws,' he said. 'You noticed, I suppose, what beautiful spots were upon the serpent's skin?'

'And did those painted spots charm the bird?' she asked, gazing curiously into her father's swarthy face.

'Perhaps not entirely,' he replied. 'There was a charm in the serpent's dark and sparkling eyes which the poor bird could not resist. 'Did you think the dark eyes of the young officer were very beautiful? I think I heard you say that his eyes were very charming.'

'I thought they were,' she replied beginning to perceive the drift of her father's re marks, and slightly blushing.

He noticed the red tinge upon her brunette cheeks in the light of the moon, and feared the handsome officer had made an impression upon her heart. He was no friend to the Americans, neither was he an open, avowed enemy. But for a promise he once made to the dying mother of this fair maiden he would have joined the British forces in Canada, and fought upon their side in our last contest with that country; but in consequence of that promise, he remained neuteral, and took no part in the war. His prejudices and prepossessions were evidently on the side of the British Lion, and opposed to the American Eagle. His father had taught him to hate the Americans, and his own experience and observation had strengthened rather than weakened that hatred. Seeing how the Americans were driving the red men from their hunting grounds and occupying them, he felt that those pale faces were guilty of nothing less than robbery, and could not have any fellowship with them, still he had promised not to forget them, and that promise he religiously kept. He belonged to the Iroquois tribe, but was not, in the strict sense of the term, a wild Indian, for he had mingled much with the whites on the western shore of lake Champlain, and could speak the English language quite fluently. Notwithstanding all his acquaintance and familiarity with the Americans, and his frequent trading with them in furs; yet in his heart there was a deep seated hatred against them, which he could only suppress, not eradicate.

'I see you thought so,' he replied, fastening his keen eyes upon her blushes.

'And pray, father, how do you see that so clearly?' she asked, smiling

'The tell-tale blood is in thy cheeks,' he replied. 'I know very well that thy mother taught thee to hate the British. She was a French woman, and could never endure the English; but had she been an Indian, she would have hated the Americans a thousand times more than she did the British, if it were possible

'But why did she so much hate the English people?' she asked.

'There is more than one reason,' her plied 'In the first place, the French and English nations never could agree; they have always been enemies to each other; but that old prejudices is not the only cause why thy mother hated the English.'

'What other cause was there?' she inquired, leaning upon her fowlingpiece, and looking anxiously into her father's face

'No matter now,' he replied, 'we will go to our lodge, for the moon is riding high in the heavens, and the dawn will be upon as ere we have had our rest.'

'And shall we leave the dead wolves?' she asked.

'Until morning, and then I will skin them, and throw their carcasses into the lake,' he answered. 'Their heads, too, I must save, for there is a bounty upon them.'

They now returned to the lodge, well pleased with their evening's good luck.

It was drawing towards midnight, and the dew glistening upon the leaves of the trees, and no sound disturbed the stillness of the forest, save the song of a solitary whip-poor-will, who was still engaged in her evening hymn to Him who notices the small sparrow when she falls to the ground. How solemn and deeply interesting is midnight in the unbroken forest! It is indeed a time for deep thought and reflection. The Indian and his daughter stood a few moments at the door of the lodge and gazed upon the bright moon and myriads of stars that twinkled in the distant firmament.

'As you said some time ago, the moon does indeed shine beautifully,' he said, placing his hand upon her head, and gazing up into the azure heavens. 'I have never seen a more beautiful night than this.'

'O, it is delightful!' she answered 'And how glad I am that those ugly wolves cannot chase that deer all night and worry him to death.'

'And so am I,' he said. We have done a good evening's work, and now we'll lie down and take our rest.'

They entered the lodge, barred the door, and reclined upon their deerskin couch.

The lovely maiden had been so much excited in killing the wolves, that she did not drop to sleep so soon as usual. Besides, she was anxious to know the second cause of her mother's hatred to the English. The question had greatly excited her curiosity, and she could not go to sleep without catechising her father more upon the subject.

'Now, father, you can tell me why mother hated the British so much,' she said. 'He was partly asleep, and did not answer until she had repeated her wish.

'Not to-night,' he replied, turning from his right to his left side, and smoothing back her dark hair from her polished forehead; 'my daughter must go to sleep now and take her rest. The young need sleep.'

'To-morrow then,' she replied, kissing his dark, wrinkled brow, and then composing herself to sleep.

'Thou must not be too much in a hurry,' he answered. 'You are young, and have time enough to learn many things.'

She did not press her inquiry further that night, but fell into sleep to dream of her beautiful gun; her handsome giver; and the savage wolves. They slept sweetly, for their consciences were clear in the sight of Heaven; no crimes had they committed, and no evil designs troubled their innocent hearts. As they lay upon the same couch, their long black hair fell over their necks and shoulders, and mingled together in rich clusters upon the deerskins that formed their bed. What a subject for the Painter! The maiden was indeed beautiful; and her father's form was stalwart, yet symmetrical. He was a noble Indian, and his moral sense of right and wrong was clearer and more perfect than is often found in civilized life. The spirit of speculation and the love for riches had never corrupted his mind; and her pure heart was a stranger to the evils and dissimulations of fashionable society.

CHAPTER II

Rumors of war The importance of the command of the lake. Character of Captain Dashford. The contrast between two officers. Corporal Quin. News by Express Effects of cowardice.

GREAT excitement prevailed among the people on the western and eastern shores of Lake Champlain, and also among the inhabitants of Canada. The British had crossed the line, and one of her brave Generals was leading an army into Northern New York, and several vessels were on their way to Plattsburgh to attack the American fleet, and to gain the command of the lake. Although the war from the beginning was unpopular among a large class of Americans, yet the spirit of the Yankees had been aroused, and volunteers from both sides of the lake were on the march to defend their firesides against the power of the British lion. Now that the forces of England had crossed the line and invaded American territory, there was but one party, and all felt the necessity and importance of defending their own families and firesides, and driving back the proud and confident enemy. All eyes were turned towards the American fleet on the lake near Plattsburgh. Should that be conquered, then the British would have full command of the lake, and could burn and destroy the villages on the lake shores at their pleasure. It is not our purpose to give a history of the war, nor enter into any of its details, except so far as they may be connected with our narrative Battles upon the stage, or in works of fiction, fall so far short of reality, that their representation or description may be often better left out than brought in. We have refered to this period of American history because our lived at that time, and some of them were engaged in the war, and fought bravely against England's power, until peace was happily restored to both countries. But we shall have more to say of their characters out of the war than in it. Love and its intrigues will furnish more matter for these pages than war and its alarms, and the beautiful scenes of the forest, and the passions of human nature as developed in the more peaceful walks of life will command more of our attention than battles either upon land or water.

Edwin Dashford was a Captain in the army of the United States, and stationed at Plattsburgh during the war. His mother resided in New York city. His father died soon after our Government declared war against England, leaving a wife, Edwin and Emily, and a large estate. The sister was some three or four years younger than Edwin. She was a very beautiful, well educated, and an accomplished girl. Edwin was also a very beautiful and handsome young man, but somewhat reckless in his notions, and impatient of restraint. Being a strong party man, and having much influence with the administration of our government, and withal, a great advocate of the war, Mr. Dashford succeeded in obtaining a captaincy for his son Edwin, who was apparently quite as patriotic as his father, and longed 'to fight the British,' as he laconically expressed himself. Seeing the young captain swell about in his new uniform after obtaining his commission, the casual observer might have supposed him a very brave fellow, and one who would fight to the last in the defence of his country; but after all, young Dashford could talk better than he could fight. The truth is, at heart he was a coward, and yet if any one had told him so after be entered the army, and before the skirmish at Plattsburgh with the British troops, he would have resented it as the greatest insult that could be heaped upon him. The young man was grossly ignorant of his own heart. Having generally had his own way, and pocket money enough to live quite extravagantly, he felt as if all things ought to yield before him. His mother was so fond and proud of him, that she almost believed he would make a second Washington; but his sister, more prudent, and blessed with more common sense than he or his mother, opposed his entering, the army, and endeavoured to induce him to practice the legal profession he had studied. He was admitted to the bar some two or three years before the declaration of war, but his father was so full of patriotism, and had instilled so much of it into his son, that the young man really panted for that glory which can only be won on the field of battle, amidst the streaming of blood and the groans of the dying. When he received his commission as captain, he was about thirty years of age, handsome, healthy, spirited, and full of life and animation. Before he received marching orders, and even after he was stationed at Plattsburgh, no young man could damn the British or swear more soundly than Captain Dashford. He possessed a fine command of language, a quality he inherited from his mother, whose tongue was apparently hung in the middle, and run like a waterwheel.

One morning, some days before the battle on the lake, he was engaged in writing a letter to his mother, when Major Rockwell entered the room.

'Good morning, Captain Dashford,' said Rockwell. 'Engaged in writing a letter to your sweetheart, I presume, and preparing her mind to receive the fortunes of war that may befal you, whatever they may be?'

'No, Major, I was writing to my good mother, who feels a deep interest in the success of the American army,' replied Dashford. 'Do you really believe we shall have a skirmish with the British troops?'

'I have no doubt but they will give us battle,' answered the major. 'John Bull is not a coward, whatever else may be said of him. He has some fine troops upon the other side of the line that have fought many battles in the old countries.'

'But father always said they were hireling troops, and possessed no patriotism; that feeling which fires the heart and nerves the arm,' replied the young captain, feeling a fear creep coldly about his heart, and hoping his father's opinion of the British soldiers might prove correct.

Now young Dashford persuaded himself into the belief that the British would not dare to cross the line and attack the American forces; and that belief was the source of much consolation to him.

'True, the British soldiers are hirelings, and receive small wages; still, we must give them the credit of fighting bravely,' said the major. 'And surely their officers do not lack patriotism .'

'I suppose not,' replied Dashford. 'I heard my father say but a few days before he died, that we could take Canada as easily as to turn the hand over.'

'Canada might be conquered, but not with our present force,' said Rockwell. 'It is not so easy a matter to take the Canadas as some gentlemen may imagine, who know nothing of the battlefield. To be a tactician in the political world is one thing, but to be a tactician in war is another, and a different affair altogether.' An administration can reward its favorites and advance them to posts of honor and profit; but grim visaged war is often no respecter of persons. The bravest and best often all, while the cowardly and craven escape fall harm. If I had my life to live over again I'm quite sure I should not select the profession of arms in which to pass my days. War is a great evil to all engaged in it; but I have adopted the profession, and intend to do my duty in the camp and in the field, whatever my fate may be.'

'I can't think the British officers will venture to invade our territory and make an attack upon us,' said Dashford.

'We must not flatter ourselves with any such belief,' replied Rockwell. 'In the first place, the British officers know our regular troops are but few; and in the second place, they believe our militia would run and scatter at the first fire; so on the whole, they feel quite encouraged, and we must be prepared to meet them, for I have no doubt but they will compel us to fight them.'

The young captain regretted to hear such prognostications, and his blood curdled in his veins at the thought of a battle, but he endeavoured to conceal his feelings from the view of his senior officer, whose courage was undoubted.

'Let them come on, if they dare!' said Dashford, speaking in a loud tone to quicken his own courage, as persons in the dark sometimes, to keep up their spirits. He begun to fear that he might have shown to Major Rockwell some symptoms of cowardice by asking such questions, therefore he made a bold declamation to do away that impression upon the major's mind.

'That's right, captain Dashford,' said Rockwell. 'Keep a stiff upper lip, and be prepared to meet death in any form, for the sake of our beloved country.'

'Hang our beloved country,' thought the young captain,' when for its sake one is obliged to stand up and be bored through with British bullets.' But he was very careful to conceal such thoughts from Rockwell, and replied—'I shall not forget my father's dying words,' 'Edwin,' said he, taking my band and looking me full in the face. 'Show the British hirelings that there's not a drop of cowardly blood running in the veins of our family! Remember you are the last of the Dashfords, and see that you do not dishonor your noble ancestry.'

'The words of a true patriot!' replied Rockwell, turning aside his face to conceal a smile which he felt coming up from his heart.

'O, father did hate the British!' said the young captain. 'He considered them a proud, overbearing, aristocratic nation. I hate them too.'

I consider them our enemies in war, and in peace our friends,' replied the gallant major, feeling none of those prejudices which seemed so much to trouble the mind of the captain's father. The fact is, Rockwell was a brave officer, but he belonged to a school in polities different from that in which young Dashford had been educated.

'I consider them always our enemies, and such they have been ever since the tea was thrown into the Boston harbor,' replied Dashford, rising up, and feeling the full force of those prejudices which his father had instilled into his mind from his boyhood.

'Well, well, let that pass,' said the major. 'One thing is certain; they will yet give us a chance to fight them, and then you can show your feelings towards them better in action than you can in words.'

The young captain was silent and thoughtful. He began to believe he should be compelled to lead his gallant company to the battle-field, and his heart trembled at the thought of such a demonstration. The major noticed his quivering lips and trembling hands, and discovered in him evidences of cowardice which no ordinary mind could mistake. Rockwell despised a coward, and especially a boasting one like our young captain, and delighted in tormenting him.

'It is reported, and upon reliable authority, that England has sent out here several regiments of her bravest troops, who long to have a brush with the Americans,' continued the major. 'They are the flower of the British army, and have seen much service, loving to fight as well as they do to eat.'

'Do you think they can bring into the field as many soldiers as we can?' anxiously inquired Dashford, while his cheeks began to pale, and his heart to beat with strange emotions.

'Indeed I'm not well informed upon that point,' replied the major. 'If they had no soldiers to bring to the battle-field but the Canadian militia, I should not much regard their number, for we could whip almost any quantity of such troops; but their regulars don't know any better than to fight until they conquer their foes, or all shot down in the ranks. I hate to meet troops who do not know when they are beaten.'

'I should think their officers would know when they are beaten,' said Dashford, in a voice that told how deep and strong were his fears.

'Perhaps they do, but they hope to the last,' answered Rockwell. 'By the way, Captain Dashford, this fighting British redcoats is not quite so pleasant and agreeable as it is to make love to a beautiful daughter of the forest, to say nothing of the danger to life and limb. I understand your game, that bewitching half-breed, your beautiful fowling-piece.'

'I did, and a most splendid creature she is,' answered Dashford. 'Did you see her when she was here with her father the other day?'

'I saw her a few moments,' replied the major. 'I confess she is a most beautiful wild-flower. But if Tamus be her father, who can be her mother? She certainly is not more than half Indian, if she 's that. Be sides, she speaks the Indian, French and English tongues very fluently.'

'I asked her who her mother was, but she did not know, or she was not disposed to tell,' said Dashford. 'By heavens, I should admire to take her to the city. How she would make the New Yorkers stare!'

'Yes; and her beauty excite the envy of the city belles,' said Rockwell. 'But old Tomus will never consent to that.'

'Perhaps not; but then daughters sometimes run away from their fathers, and many against their consent,' said Dashford.

'But you would not wed an Indian girl, would you?' asked the major.

'Not exactly make her my legal wife,' replied Dashford, assuming a very cunning look, and twirling his mustache with his fore finger.

'The virtue of an Indian maiden is not so easily overcome as you may imagine,' said the major, despising in his heart the evil designs of the young captain, and always hating the libertine. 'You may give her forty beautiful guns, and yet never win her heart; she's cunning as well as beautiful.'

At that moment, Michael Quin; an Irish corporal in Dashford's company, entered the room, and appeared to be much excited. Quin hated the English, and was full of courage, and ready to fight them at a moment's warning.

'By St. Patrick, we shall meet the redcoats before many days, and whip them entirely,' said Quin, placing his left foot forward, and standing erect as a Maypole.

'How so?' inquired Dashford, feeling much anxiety. 'Any news from the enemy?'

Any news!' replied the gallant corporal, bringing up his right foot square with the left, and gazing directly into Dashford's face.

'Ye may well ask that, captain. The redcoats are coming, and we must be after 'em. An express has jist arrived; and the British fleet and army too are coming. Now by the powers we shall be after having some fun with them. I shall kill a brace of them at every shot. None of my powder and ball shall be wasted. Stand firm and take deliberate aim is my doctrine.'

'Has an express arrived bringing such news?' asked the major, hurrying from the room, and going to bead-quarters to consult with the General.

'As I'm now a living man, such good news has come; and now we'll shoot 'em down as fast as they come into line,' replied Quin. 'Come, Captain Dashford, we must see that our company is prepared. Ye know ye were wishing the other day to smell gunpowder, and by the powers we shall have enough of it.'

Dashford's cheeks turned pale, and his limbs trembled. He gazed upon the floor in silence.

'Planning out the best mode of attack, captain,' continued the corporal. 'That's good; our men will face the redcoats and do their duty. But I hate the Indians, who fire from every bush, and dare not show their dark faces.'

'There is danger from them,' said Dash ford, in a tremulous voice.

'Yes; and faith we must rush towards every bush from which we see the smoke rising, and drive the rascals from their places of concealment,' said Quin, flourishing a ramrod which he held in his hand, and stretching up his form to its utmost height.

'Major Rockwell says, the British regulars will fight until they conquer, or are all shot down,' said Dashford.

'And by St. Patrick, we must do just that same thing,' replied the corporal. 'I niver expect to lave the battle-field alive, unless we conquer the rascals. 'Victory or death,' must be our motto.'

Captain Dashford wished he had never joined the army. It seemed to him that the honors did not pay, while his life was exposed to so much danger. He hoped the corporal's report was not true; but after he went out he found it was all true, and that the enemy was actually on the march. Dashford was in trouble, but he concealed his feelings as best he could.

CHAPTER III

A change from the country to the city. The difference between mother and daughter. Different views of human life, and its objects. Further developments of the young Captain's character.

WE must now ask the reader to go with us to the city of New York. Mrs. Dashford and her daughter Emily lived in a splendid house in the upper part of the city. They moved in the first circles because they were rich. Money in such a city as New York is a sure passport to the upper circles. There is no aristocracy except that which grows out of wealth. Mrs. Dashford was a poor girl when she married Mr. Dashford, and even learned the trade of dressmaker. Her husband, too, was poor, but possessed much business tact and energy, which made him, before he died, a very wealthy man. The mother of Mrs. Dashford was a French woman, and her father was a mechanic from Wales. Both her parents were dead, and she never had but one sister, and no brothers. Whether her sister was dead or alive she knew not, for she had heard nothing from her for many years. Mr. Dashford was a great politician in his day, and no doubt would have been honored with some office if he had not died. He was a strong advocate of the second war with England, and an enthusiastic friend of the national administration, under whose auspices war was declared. In early life he worked at the shoemaking trade in his native State, Connecticut; but his ambition extended beyond his last, and he came to New York, where he married a French dressmaker, entered into commercial pursuits, and amassed a large fortune. Mrs. Dashford was glad to forget she was once a dressmaker, and that her husband's first trade and employment were those of a humble shoemaker. Those days she seldom called to mind, but preferred to let the past be buried in oblivion. She now moved in the first circles, and had been introduced to more than one President of the United States, besides making the acquaintance of several statesmen. Proud, haughty and aristocratic, she was determined to push her son Edwin to the highest post of honor in the gift of a free people. Strange as it may seem, she sometimes believed that her husband would have become the head of the American Government, if death had not removed him from this scene of action, and now he was dead, she flattered herself that her son would yet distinguish himself and become the cynosure of all eyes. If he could only fight one battle, and whip the British, she fancied it would give him great fame in the eyes of the American people.

Her daughter 'Emily' was a very different sort of a person—she was always opposed to her brother's entering the army, and did not possess such high notions of military honors as her mother did. War she looked upon as a very great evil, and considered it the folly of nations; while her mother, and her father, before he died, reckoned it the nursery of heroes. Emily Dashford was religiously inclined—and although she had not become a member of any church militant, yet her piety and zeal in the cause of virtue, religion and moral reform, qualified her for membership in the most evangelical church. The widow Dashford was very far being a pious woman, and even occasionally taunted her daughter with being too humble for one in her situation. Never were mother and daughter ter more unlike in disposition and cast of mind than this widow and her daughter were. There were some topics upon which they could never agree. And although Emily always treated her mother with proper respect, yet she never felt it to be her duty to give those opinions which she deemed just and right, nor to cease from advocating them on all proper occasions.

At the very hour Major Rockwell, young Dashford, and Corporal Quin were discussing the fortunes of war, this proud widow and her lovely daughter were sitting in a splendidly furnished parlor, and engaged in conversation upon the same subject.

'O, I hope the Americans will give the British redcoats enough to last them one while, said the widow. 'Your father always said they were a proud, haughty, over-bearing nation, and considered the Americans as merely rebels.'

'Dear mother, nations as well as individuals are often wicked, and must answer for their sins,' replied Emily. 'No doubt England has her faults, and so have we, and all other nations, or there would be an end of wars. When I reflect upon the countless evils wars have brought in their train, my heart is overwhelmed with grief! There is no need of war; and nations that fight each other can never prosper as they would in peace.'

'What would you have nations do when they are insulted and spit upon?' asked the mother

'Remonstrate with the offending nations, and pray Heaven to give them a sense of their own iniquity, but never engage in the bloody work of murdering each other,' replied Emily.

'O, You would manage affairs wonderfully!' said the widow, laughing. 'If every body were like you the world would become a very tame affair, and I would be quite willing to leave it. No, no Emily, you have got into your head some very foolish as well as wrong notions. True, war has its horrors, but then it furnishes graves for many poor, useless creatures.'

'And if it should furnish a grave for Edwin, you might change your opinion,' said the daughter.

'O, I'm told the officers never expose themselves to much danger,' replied the widow.

'Perhaps generals may not sometimes, but captains must lead on their companies, and be quite as much, and often more, exposed than the common soldiers, or they would be branded as cowards,' said Emily. 'If a man goes to war to acquire renown, and proves a coward, it would be better for him to stay at home.'

'I'm sure Edward is no coward,' replied the widow. 'I expect he will distinguish himself before the war is over, and his name be known all over our country.'

'He may not be a coward out of battle, but when he is compelled to lead his company in front of the enemy I should not be surprised if he trembled in his military boots, answered Emily. 'I always told him he was a coward, and never ought to enter the army, and he would not, if you and father had not urged him on. I think I know Edwin's disposition well, and according to my idea of his character, he will never make a martial hero.'

'You talk strangely about your brother,' said the widow, impatiently.

'I speak what I believe to be the truth, dear mother, Edwin brags too much to be really full of courage. Just read over again his last letter, and you will find proof enough of his boasting. A man who possesses true courage never thinks of speaking about it. And I believe that letter was written when he did not expect to be engaged in battle. He thinks as many others do, that there will not be much fighting in Canada or near the lines, but he may be mistaken after all. The next news we hear may bring us the tidings of a battle, and the death of Edwin. The British have the Indians on their side.'

'Oh, I hate the Indians!' said Mrs. Dashford. 'They are a cruel, bloodthirsty race!' 'Perhaps they would not have been so much so, if they had been treated justly We have driven them from their hunting grounds, and greatly injured them. We are strong and they are weak, but that is no reason why we should refuse them justice. I'm not at all surprised that they cheerfully join with the British, and long to fight the Americans, who have robbed them of their rights, and driven them from the graves of their ancestors.'

'You have a mighty sensitive heart, Emily,' said her mother. 'I was reading a few days ago a book that gave an account of several women and young children who were horribly murdered by the Indians. O, it made the blood curdle in my veins to think of such a dreadful murder!'

'It was indeed great cruelty on the part of the exasperated savages; but you must remember the white folks have murdered them also. Besides, what is such a massacre compared with the field of battle, on which lie thousands upon thousands of the dead and dying. Oh, mother, we have been taught to view such a scene of carnage as a mere trifle, because it is the fortune of war; but the deaths of two or three women and children by the hand of an Indian, strike us with great horror. This is all natural enough, but it is all wrong in principle. I hate wars, and would to Heaven Edwin had been content to remain at home and practice his profession.'

'I believe he will gain more fame and popularity where he is,' said the mother.

'Fame and popularity gained by murdering his fellow creatures according to the laws of war!' repeated Emily. 'Such a name I should never wish to acquire. And I sincerely hope and pray that Edwin may never have an opportunity to lead his company to the field of battle.'

'I hope he will, and come off covered with glory,' replied the mother.

'He may be covered with more gore than glory,' said Emily. 'Strange, dear mother, that a woman should possess such ambitious notions!'

'Who knows but Edwin may yet be President of the United States?' proudly asked this ambitious woman. 'And would you not feel proud to see your brother occupying that high office, the highest, your father used to say, there is in the world?'

'I should much rather see him a humble, pious christian,' replied this good sister. 'Such honors are fading and transitory. In the hour of death they cannot quiet a guilty conscience, nor smooth the passage down to the grave. They may gratify the proud heart during a brief career, but when he who has worn them lies down to die, thick clouds hang about him, and the way he must go looks dark and dismal! O, no, mother, I confess I do not think much of such honors. Give me the christian's bright hope before any such honors. The difference between them is as great as between time and eternity.'

'Don't, for pity's sake, Emily, preach a sermon,' said her mother. 'Two sermons in one week are quite as much as I can digest, and I attended church all day Sabbath. I think you ought to become the wife of a methodist parson.'

'I fear I am not worthy of such a position,' replied Emily, smiling. 'But to be serious, mother, I have great fears that the camp will corrupt the morals of Edwin. And if such should be the result of his soldier life, no honors he could acquire can atone for that.'

'It is the common soldiers, and not the officers, whom a life in the camp corrupts,' replied the widow. 'No fear of Edwin.'

'I hope he will escape the pollutions of such a life; but I have yet to learn why officers are not as much exposed as soldiers to the corrupting atmosphere of the camp. Temptations assail all alike, an office never yet improved the heart, or made the morals better.'

Edwin has always conducted himself well, and I don't think he will plunge into crime all at once, said the fond mother.

'We know not what he may have done out of our sight,' said Emily. 'He has always been very gay, and associated with some young men, whose characters, I fear, would not bear the test of very severe scrutiny.'

Emily knew her brother much better than his mother knew him. While in college he was guilty of many indiscretions which never reached his mother's ears, but Emily had some them from his own lips. Being naturally given to boasting, he had related to his sister many of his college scrapes, and she very wisely concluded that he did not disclose those of the deepest shade of moral turpitude.

'It does not become a sister to harbor such suspicions against a brother,' said the widow, while a frown appeared upon her brow.

'Dear mother, I love Edwin, and would not for the world do him injustice in thought, word or deed,' replied Emily. 'It is my great regard for him that makes me watchful of his conduct and character. He has always had his own way from earliest boyhood, and is now exceedingly impatient of restraint. He was quite short with me just before he went away, because I undertook to give him some advice.'

'And, Emily can you wonder at that, when he is the oldest?' asked the mother. 'If any advice is to be given, it seems to me he ought to give it to you instead of you giving it to him.'

'I have always been willing to receive good council from him, whenever he was disposed to give it, but that time has seldom occurred,' said Emily. 'I fear, dear mother, that your ambitious notions lead you to wink out of sight his errors and magnify his virtues.'

'Well, that is indeed pretty in you!' said the aristocratic mother. 'Read me a moral lecture, will you? Things have come to a strange pass, when daughters set themselves up as censors over the conduct of their mothers! Why, Emily, I'm astonished at your presumption, to call it by no harsher name! You have really become a fanatic, and appear as if the moral government of the world were upon your shoulders.'

'O, no, mother, not quite so bad as that, I trust,' replied Emily, smiling. 'I do no, feel competent for such a task, but I have my own views of right and wrong, and feel as if I had the privilege of expressing them. I wish to ask you a single question.'

'Ask it then; but do not be impertinent, I beg of you,' replied the mother.

'I will endeavour to avoid all impertinence,' said Emily. 'Do you think Edwin did right in paying marked attention to Harriett Melville for several months, and then turning her away, and addressing Jane Canfield in the character of a lover?'

'Harriett Melville is a poor girl, and her condition and rank in society are not such as the girl's ought to be to become the wife of Edwin,' replied Mrs. Dashford.

'O, mother, that is but a poor excuse for the conduct of Edwin,' said Emily. 'Harriett Melville is not only a very beautiful, but a virtuous young lady. And Heaven only knows but the latter quality might have been the cause of his quitting her so soon! Miss Melville is, indeed, poor, and is obliged to work for her own living, but she would make a most excellent wife for any young man who knows how to appreciate her good qualities.'

'And is not Jane Canfield an excellent, well educated, accomplished young lady?' asked the mother, in a tone of great confidence.

'She is a very fashionable and gay young lady,' replied Emily. 'Her mother is rich, and Jane possesses some accomplishments which may be pleasing so long as there is an abundance of money, but when poverty comes, and the winds of adversity blows, as they may upon those who are now rolling in wealth, such accomplishments will be of but little avail. Riches are uncertain, and the day may come which will find Edwin poor, and in need of a wife who knows how to work. If such a time should ever come, how would Jane Canfield bear up under such circumstances?'

'I always knew you did not fancy Miss Canfield,' said the mother.

'I do not wish to say aught against her,' replied Emily. 'She conducts herself as many young ladies would, brought up as she has been. Her parents have indulged her every wish, and she has never known the want of any thing. Every thing has been showered upon her in such profusion, that she knows not how to prize even the necessities of life; but Harriett Melville knows the value of all earthly blessings.'

'You entertain some strange notions,' said the mother, manifesting much impatience.

'And it seems to me you do too,' said Emily. 'I don't think any one, however rich they may be, has a right to live a gay, thoughtless life. All persons ought to make themselves useful in some way, no matter how much goods they may possess. A giddy, thoughtless brain, and idle hands, are an abomination in the sight of Heaven. The wore useful is written upon every object in nature and shall men and women be the only use less things in the world?'

'There you go again!' said her proud mother. 'I wish you would cease from reading the works of that crazy Swedenborg! No doubt he was partially deranged, and the wise and learned think so.'

'If he was, there was much method in his madness,' replied Emily. 'And if you, or any one else, would read his works carefully, you would find it so. I confess, mother, he has greatly enlightened my mind upon many subjects.'

'I don't wish to hear you talk any more such nonsense,' said her mother, rising, and leaving the room.

Now Emily Dashford was not a full believer in the doctrines Swedenborg has published to the world, still she had been recently much inclined in that direction The dashing mother did not trouble her head about any religious notions; she lived as if this world were her eternal home; while her daughter took a very different view of things. One looked down into the grave, and beyond its confines; the other saw nothing but the splendor of the fashionable world.

CHAPTER IV

The Soldier's life Some new characters introduced. The boastings of the Irish, Scotch, and Yankee, The young Captain's troubles. More of the Indian Maiden.

'AED dinna we give the redcoats muckle mair than they could stand under?' asked Fitzgerald, of his Yankee companion, Victor Gravel, the next morning after the naval engagement on Lake Champlain, and skirmishing of the land forces in Plattsburgh.

'By the mighty if we did'nt!' answered Victor, holding up a long, rusty gun, which looked as if it had been hanging up in a farmer's kitchen a half a century. 'You see this death-dealing instrument, sixteen rounds she discharged, and never missed fire but once. Why, this gun has killed forty bears and one catamount, and now I dare not say how many redcoats she has made riddling scives of. But as you say, we gave it to 'em a little bit hotter then they could sap it.'

'We did, but then it was no pleasant thing for me to shoot down my ain countrymen,' replied Hugh. 'I saw mony gade Scothmen in the enemy's ranks, but America is my adopted country, and so I maun fight her foes. But how came you in Captain Dashford's company?'

'Ye see, and Bob Martin and I, were afor tother side of the lake, and we felt as if we wanted to fight the British a bit, so we crossed over in a small boat, and hitched on to the first company we met,' answered the Yankee. 'When I seed the British vessels coming down to attack ours on the lake, my blood riz up, and I wanted to fight 'em. Ye know there was'nt any chance on tother side, so we jist rowed across this long pond, and this old family piece did up her work gloriously. Never missed fire but once, out of sixteen shots, and they wa'nt small charges neither. I put into her muzzle nearly a quarter of a pound of powder, and lead each one, and the way she let off was a caution to the Britishers.'

Michael Quin now came along, and gratified them with some of his blarney. He had a hole shot through his hat, but his head almost miraculously escaped injury.

'The top of the morning to ye,' said Quin, 'And did'ent the vessels on the lake fight? What clouds of smoke hung over 'em, and how the big guns rattled. Ah, if the Americans had got beat on the water, the redcoats would have been after giving us a hard one on the land. But thanks to St. Patrick and our good officers, we have gained the victory, and the British have cleared out for Canada again. Spaking of officers makes me think of our young Captain Dashford. Did ye see how pale he looked as soon as the first big gun was fired on the lake!'

'I seed him shake like a leaf in autumn,' replied Victor. 'He said he was sick of the camp disorder, and must be carried to his quarters.'

'And faith we did carry him there; but if fear had been out of his heart, his body would have been well enough,' said Quin. 'By the powers he's an arrant coward, or I niver laid eyes on one in my life.'

'There's a mukle difference atween being sick or scared to death,' said the Scotchman.

'Ye may well say that,' replied Quin. 'He had no ailment about his body, and so the Doctor thought only he would'nt say any thing. But how bravely he talked when we was carrying him off. Fellow soldiers, said he. 'Your Captain's body is feeble, but his spirit is with you. Face the enemy and drive him back to Canada, I know your brave hearts, and have no fears but you will do your whole duty to your country.' That speech he made just before he said he must leave his brave soldiers.'

'I thought he looked like a coward when I first set eyes on his smooth face,' said Victor. 'He had too much hair on his upper lip to suit me. He appeared like some of these New York dandies I'ne hearn tell of.

'But niver mind, he's got money enough, and would give lots of it if he could get a half Indian girl he saw the other day,' said Quin.

'How much would he shell out for the beauty, if she would be placed in his arms?' asked the Yankee, whose eyes are always open when there's money to be seen

'No doubt, a thousand dollars,' replied the Corporal.

'She maun acavery bonnie lassie to be worth as much as that,' said Hugh. 'And a half Indian too. Wha ever heard the like o' that?'

'I've seen her, and by Moses, she is as handsome as a picter,' said the Vermont soldier. 'She's jist got copper color enough in her face to make her look healthy and strong. I hate these pale looking, sickly gals. This Indian gal has an almighty sight of long, black, shining hair upon her head, that makes her look slick as an otter; and her eyes shine like two diamonds.'

'I wadna hae any objections to seeing sic a beauty,' said Hugh. 'I canna believe an Indian lassie can be so gade looking.'

'She's handsomer than any Scotch gal that ever breathed,' replied the Yankee, setting the but of his long gun smartly upon the ground, to give force and emphasis to his remarks

'Hoat, mon alive, no lassies are sa bonnie and bright as brave Scotland's,' said Hugh. 'Whew!' exclaimed the Yankee, whistling the tune of 'The girl I left behind me,' and sometimes putting in a few words of the song.

'Then ye don't believe me!' exclaimed the Scotch soldier.

'Believe you!' repeated Gravel. Not by a jugful and a long shot. 'See here my comrade. I like you because ye have fought the Britishers, but hang me if ye ever seed in yer own country so rosy a gal as left on the side of yonder green mountain, that looms np against the eastern sky. Sal Judkins is a whole team. Her checks are red as roses, her eyes shine like diamonds, and her lips look jist like two plump, ripe cherries. And she could lick a regiment of sich fellows as Captain Dashford.'

'And by the bolt St. Michael that's not giving her much praise,' said Corporal Quin

'I acknowledge the corn,' replied Victor laughing. 'Why do they give militry offices to such dandies?'

'Sure enough,' said Fitzgerald. 'One company of Highlanders would drive a thousand of 'em.'

'And one company of Green Mountain Boys would put ten thousand to flight,' answered the Yankee.

'And a score of fishermen would lick any quantity of 'em, else my name is not Michael Quin,' said the Corporal, standing proudly erect, and smoking.

'Weel, weel, said Hugh.' 'The maun think the Irish, and Vermonters, backed up by the sous of good auld Scotchmen, wad beat all the rest of mankind.'

'Yes, lick the whole world,' said Gravel, loudly laughing.

Major Rockwell now came along, and addressed these soldiers very pleasantly. The Major was naturally a very polite man, and always treated every one with much respect He was a real gentleman of the old school.

'Well, my boys, we did'nt have a chance to fight long upon the land,' said Rockwell. 'The victory on the lake saved us much hard fighting. If the British had taken our vessels in the bay, we should not have seen the redcoats retreat in such a hurry.'

'Ye may well say that same thing,' replied the Corporal. 'That was a glorious battle on the lake.'

'It was indeed, and it will make our worn easy for the present,' replied Rockwell 'How is your Captain this morning! I hav'nt heard from him.'

'By the powers, Major, I think he is better now, since the fighting ceased, and the redcoats have retreated,' replied Quin, while an arched smile passed over his pock-marked face.

'The Corporal is right,' said Gravel. 'The dandy Captain was only troubled with a fit of the shakes. He has almost recovered from the shock.'

'I must call upon him, and see how he is,' said Rockwell, smiling.

'I think he'll not be after needing much more physic,' replied Quin, laughing, as if he would split his sides.

The others joined in the laugh, and then the Major repaired to the quarters of Captain Dashford. Rockwell was aware of the nature of the disease under which the young Captain had been laboring, for he new Dashford was a great coward. The dandy officer was up, and his servant was rubbing his head as he complained of being afflicted with a severe head ache.

'Good morning, Captain,' said Rockwell, 'I'm glad to see you up, and dressed.'

'O, Major, I had a very severe attack yesterday,' said Dashford. 'And I'm not fully recovered yet, although I am much better.'

'I'm glad to hear you are convalescent,' said Rockwell, suppressing a smile.

'You can't imagine how deeply I regretted my illness at that time of all other times in my life,' said Dashford. 'I had rather given a thousand dollars than not have been able to take part in that engagement. I stood upon my feet at the head of my brave company until I thought I should sink into the earth, but at last my attack was so severe, I was compelled to yield to it, and leave the field. Don't you think the British will return again, so that I may have the pleasure of one engagement with the foe? I can hardly endure the thought of being deprived of such a privilege. From my boyhood I have longed to be in the battle field. My father used to say, that he believed I was born with a sword in my hand.'

The Major had hard work to keep from laughing in the young officer's face, but he did so, and appeared quite sober and sincere.

'I perceive you have a great love of military life, and regret you were too much indisposed to lead on your brave company to the fight,' replied the Major, feeling as if he should burst with laughter in spite of all his efforts to restrain himself. 'With regard to the British army's returning, I think they will now keep on their own territory, but we may have orders to follow them, if so, we shall probably have one general engagement, in which you can take a glorious part.'

The young Captain began to feel his sickness return upon him at the thought of facing the redcoats, but he held out false colors, and summoned his full strength to appear valorous.

'I hope, if our army is ordered to follow them on their retreat, that we shall not go under a few days, before I am restored to health again,' said Dashford. 'But I fear we shall be ordered to follow immediately. What do you think, Major?'

I hardly know what to think,' replied Rockwell, concealing a smile. 'However, I think we shall remain here a few days, until our force is increased.'

'It seems to me they ought to be followed immediately, before they have crossed the line,' said Dashford. 'When a foe retreats in confusion, then is the time to give them battle, and not wait until they have had time to re-organize and select advantageous ground.'

'True; but then there may be other things to take into account,' said Rockwell. 'Our force may not be sufficiently large to risk a general engagement. As they have now lost the command of the lake, they will probably keep on the King's territory, and if we fight them, we must do it on Canadian soil. If they had won the victory upon the lake, then they would have pushed ahead, and given us a more severe fight than we have yet had I trust, Captain, you will be quite well in a day or two, and on duty again, ready to lead your company to victory or death, and to become distinguished as a brave officer.'

'I hope so, but I fear I shall continue feeble for several days, and Heaven only knows when my health will be fully restored,' replied Dashford. 'I have an exceedingly severe pain in my head, and feel a general frustration of my energies.'

'I think you will regain your strength in a few days,' answered Rockwell. 'By the way, Captain, did you dream last night of the beautiful Half-breed? Since I conversed with you the other day about her, I have learned something of her history, but not much.'

'What have you heard?' inquired Dashford.

'I understood her mother was a most beautiful and an accomplished French lady, who strangely took it into her head to live with an Indian,' replied Rockwell. However, but little is known of her in these regions. It is thought that she came from New York city.'

'It seems to me that she must have been crazy,' said Dashford.

'She might have been disappointed in some love affair, become disgusted with the fashionable world, and fled to the forests to live a secluded life. Women, and the beautiful accomplished woman too, sometimes indulge strange notions, especially after they have been shamefully treated by their lovers.'

'I suppose she is now dead,' said the Captain. 'I must again see her daughter at all events. Perhaps she and her father may visit this place again. I tried hard to find out where they lived, but could not succeed.'

'That fact I have ascertained from an old hunter,' replied Rockwell. Their lodge is near the beautiful Chazy lake, some thirty miles from here.'

'By Heavens, I must go there soon as I recover my health, and my country does not need my services.'

'As I understood from the old hunter, you will find the task a difficult one, to get her away from her father, who watches over her with vigilance,' said Rockwell. 'Tomus is a cunning Indian, and withal, a men of great strength and courage. He would fight for his child so long as a drop of blood remained in his veins! besides, he is very suspicious of the pale-faces, believing they have no honor or honesty in their hearts.'

'Who is this old hunter who told you about her?' inquired Dashford.

'His name is Job Bellows,' replied Rock well. He's a stalwart looking fellow, and well acquainted with the forests in this region and in Canada. He has often been at the camp of Tomus, and passed several nights with him. Bellows is a great deal like an Indian himself, he has lived in the woods so much. He would guide you to the beautiful forest-flower; but then the old Indian stands a faithful sentinel over her at all times, except when he occasionally goes out on a hunting excursion.'

'And leave her alone in the lodge?' inquired Dashford.

'So the hunter informs me,' replied Rockwell. 'I suppose you would like to find her thus alone, while her powerful protector was absent?'

'Indeed I should, for I think I could persuade her to elope with me. What an impression she would create in the city? All eyes would be upon her, and thousands would envy me the possession of such transcendent beauty. I must convey her to the city, let it cost me what it may.'

'What would your mother and sister say, if they would see you gallanting a girl with Indian blood in her veins?' asked Rockwell.'

'I know not, nor care,' replied the young Captain. 'I'm of age, and have a right to do as I please.'

'But how would Jane Canfield receive you after she had found out that you had brought to the city an Indian maiden?' inquired Rockwell.

'I suppose she would scold some, but then she loves me so much that she would not turn me away,' replied Dashford.

'Do not flatter yourself with that idea. If Miss Canfield is the girl I think she is, she would give you a walking ticket instantly. She has a good deal of energy and pride, and when you turn her love to hate, that hate would be more than you could conveniently bear, Captain But I must go to the General's quarters.'

Rockwell departed, leaving the young Captain to his own reflections. His servant who was rubbing his head when the Major made his appearance, received a hint to go out, which he very gladly took, and hurried from the room. Dashford reflecting much on the subject, had finally resolved to remain on the sick list, in case there should be any more fighting. He had no notion of being pierced with British bullets. On carefully studying his own character, he came to the conclusion that he did not possess courage enough to lead his company into battle; nevertheless, he was determined to conceal that fact from all persons. He was not aware that his true character was already known.

As the Major and his servant had both left, his head was much better, and he set himself about writing a letter to his mother, and also one to his beloved, Jane Canfield. Whether he wrote the truth or not, may yet appear in subsequent pages. After he had finished his letters, he laid down and reflected upon his peculiar situation. Now the reader must not suppose that this young officer was always as wicked and deceitful as he finds him now. True, he had always been somewhat rowdyish, but then he had some redeeming traits in his character, and was governed more by impulse than by any preconcerted plans of mischief.

CHAPTER V

The character of an Indian hunter. The beauty and grandeur of the forest. The hatred of the Indians towards the Americans. A new character introduced. Exciting scene.

THE beautiful half Indian girl, mentioned in the opening chapter, did not like the name of her father, but she was called by her mother Therese Corveille, and by that name she will be known in these pages. It was not known how old Tomus, her father, was, but his general appearance indicated that the snows of nearly sixty winters had fallen upon his head. He was occasionally afflicted with the rheumatism, a disease to which the North American Indians are often liable; aside from that complaint, Tomus was a very hale and athletic son of the forest. Having resided in the vicinity of Montreal, and frequently trading his furs in that city, he had learned both the English and French languages, and spoke them quite fluently. He was born not far from the banks of the St. Lawrence river, and became a celebrated hunter, even in his boyhood, when other Indians of his age seldom left their father's wigwams for any considerable length of time. No hunter had been more lucky than Tomus. Many winters he had passed far north of Quebec, where the snows were several feet deep during more than half the year, and the cold weather intensely severe; but he possessed an iron frame, and capable of enduring great hardships. Since her mother's death, Therese had accompanied him on many of his hunting excursions, and had passed several winters with him many miles from the white inhabitants, and far from any traces of civilization or refinement, but never were father and daughter more happy in the society of each other than they were. Hundreds of miles, when she was a little girl, had he carried her upon his back, through the dark forests, and over the deep snows. And during her life thus far, she had seldom ever known a sick day. For the last four or five years she had not followed him on hunting voyages, but occasionally accompanied him to Montreal and the villages on the western shore of lake Champlain. She had grown so beautiful, that he was careful not to expose her, but treated her as a tender flower, so that she had become quite delicate in her looks. Her form was perfectly symmetrical, and all her motions graceful and easy. She could almost run with the fox and leap with the fawn. Tomus had taught her all his rude arts. She could manufacture a birch canoe with much taste and skill, kill the big trout, and shoot wild game with as much tact and adroitness as her father could in his palmiest days. And such sports she loved from her earliest girlhood, and practised them at all times and seasons. Her heart was as fair as the driven snow she passed over, and knew no guile. Temptations had never assailed her, and evil thoughts never troubled her fair spirit. Many had been the moral lessons Tomus had taught her. And although some of his illustrations were rude, yet they seldom or never failed to impress some simple truth upon her heart. He further was an honest Indian, and looked up to the Great Spirit for wisdom and protection. True, he was not religious in the common acceptation of that term, and as it is now understood among the various churches of the world, yet he knew most thoroughly the great principles of right and wrong. The Great Spirit had written his law upon this Indian's heart, and it was obeyed. It was several days after the battle at Plattsburgh when Tomus and his daughter were sitting in the door of their lodge, and looking out upon the unruffled waters of the lake. The morning was bright and beautiful. and they could see the trout every now and then breaking water, and sporting in their own peculiar way.

'The trout feel quite sportive this morning,' said Therese. 'There are some large ones, too, from the wakes in the water.'

'Yes, but let them live, for we don't need any now,' replied Tomus. 'Never kill them for mere sport. When hunger calls, then we have the right to kill them. Did you ever think, Therese, how beautifully the Great Spirit has provided for the red man? Those very trout which we now see sporting in the lake, are made for us, and how wicked we should be if we killed them to gratify our love of pastime. You have accompanied me far into the forests, and don't you know how full all the lakes and streams are of those beautiful fishes?'

'Indeed I do,' she replied. 'If they had not been, we should have been hungry, and perhaps died of starvation.'

'Very true,' he answered. 'The Great Spirit has given us good hunting grounds, and supplied us food, but the pale faces have driven us back and stolen our lands. How can the red man love the American pale face?'

'But mother liked them, did she not?' she asked, gazing fondly into her father's face and smoothing back his long hair from his wrinkled, weather-beaten forehead.

'She liked the Americans better than she did the English,' he answered. 'And you have often asked me the reason of her doing so. Now the French and English nations never did like each other.'

'You have told me that before,' said Therese. 'But that is not the cause of mother's disliking the British, at least, it is not the great cause.'

'You're right,' he said. 'If an Englishman had been faithful in keeping the promises he made to your mother, she would never have become my companion, and I should not have had you to love. But do not ask me more now.'

'O, see! a canoe coming across the lake!' she exclaimed. 'It is Millinok, who hates the Americans much.'

'Perhaps we may hear something from the armies on the shores of the great lake,' he said. 'Millinok has been gone some weeks.'

On came the canoe, straight as a beeline, towards the lodge of Tomus, and they hurried down to the shore to meet the Indian who could speak in broken English. Millinok, or Black Bear, as the name imported, was a strong, powerful Indian, who hated the Americans more bitterly, if possible, than Tomus. And this stalwart son of the forest was under no restraint as Tomus was, and fought his enemies whenever he could find an opportunity, or wherever he could find a place. Tomus knew his character well, and believed he had been down to the great lake and took some part in the war that was then raging. As Millinok approached the rock bound shore. he leaped from the canoe into the water, and held her from dashing against the rocks, a precaution an Indian always takes when he is about to land his fragile park. As he sprang from his birch, she danced upon the waters as lightly as a feather, and soon his strong arms bore her safely upon dry land. He stood upon a large flat rock, straight as a sappling pine, and gazed upon Tomus and his daughter in silence. Streaks of red and dark blue paint marked his brow and cheeks, and the skin of a bear's head hung from a belt about his waist, in which were deposited several necessary articles; a piece of a bear's skin also over his shoulders, and several feathers from the black eagle ornamented his head. He looked, as he was, like a brave warrior.

'What news from the big lake?' asked Tomus, standing before Black Bear, while Therese stood by his side, anxious as her father was to learn the tidings.

'Me kill some pale faces, but the Americans beat the British,' replied Millinok.

A cold chill ran over the heart of Tomus at the declaration of such tidings, but he stood as motionless as a statue, and the features of his face were unmoved.

'Bad, very bad!' said Tomus. 'Now the pale faces drive the red man farther back into the forests, and steal his hunting grounds.'

'Then why no ye fight 'em?' replied Millinok, while a frown settled upon his dark brow, and his keen eyes expressed the hatred he felt towards the Americans.

'I promised her mother, before the Great Spirit, never to war against the Americans, or rather, never to help the British,' answered Tomus, pointing to Therese, and almost regretting he ever made such a promise.

Millinok stood thoughtful and silent, not knowing what answer to make. He, too, considered a promise made before such a high power as sacred, and not to be violated, and yet he felt as if Tomus was wrong in making it.

'Ugh!' said Black Bear, shaking his head, and gazing intently on Tomus.' 'Me sorry you make promise to pale face, but the Great Spirit hear it, Me like her better than her mother—mother all pale face.'

'True, she was all pale face, but no American,' replied Tomus.

'No American!' replied Millinok. 'Me glad. May be she English.'

'Nay, a French woman,' answered Tomus, 'A handsome, good woman, none better.'

'French woman be very well, but not so good as Indian,' said Millinok.

'Gracious me! exclaimed Therese. 'See what a big trout broke the water!'

They looked in the direction she pointed, and the circle in the water kept increasing until the surface became smooth again as a mirror. There was scarcely a breath of air, and the lake lay embosomed in the surrounding trees like a great basin of molten silver. The morning was beautiful, and all nature seemed dressed in its richest robes.

'He was a large one,' said her father. 'But let him live, and one day he may feed the hungry.'

'O, I should love to feel him on my line!' she replied. 'How he would run and leap from the water, and show his bright sides in the morning sun!'

'And so would you struggle for your life, if you were driven away from me and this beautiful lake, where we have lived so long,' said Tomus, gazing upon his lovely daughter, and twirling one of her glossy, curling ringlets with his finger'

'We must fight the pale faces, and kill 'em too, or they will drive us all from these good hunting grounds,' said Millinok, in low, guttural sounds, as if his soul forged the words his tongue uttered. 'Me will get more warriors, and scalp the pale faces.'

Millinok now related to Tomus all he know of the skirmishing upon the land, and the battle upon the lake, and how the British vessels were taken, and the British army retreated towards the line. The wily Indian knew much more of the details of the affair than many of the soldiers engaged in the fight, for he was prowling round at the head of some score of Indian warriors, and shooting down all the Americans he could come within reach of. He was a bold, as well as a cunning warrior, and fought bravely for the British, who made many fair promises to the Indians. They now went up to the lodge and there reclined upon the deer skins, talking over the war, and predicting its probable results. Millinok's spirit was dark and gloomy, and he felt as if the Americans were the conquerors, and would drive the red men far away towards the Pacific ocean. Tomus endeavoured to show up the bright side; still he entertained serious fears that the Indian's rights would be wrested from them, and they be compelled to make tracks towards the setting sun.

While they were engaged in discussing the probable results of the war, a crackling was heard among the bushes upon the outside of the camp. Therese was the first to hear it. She started up, and immediately went to the door of the lodge, when she saw a sight that made her tremble, and drove her back.

'What now?' asked her father, springing up, and gazing upon the trembling maiden.

'A catamount!' she replied, seizing her gun, and examining the firing.

Tomus and Millinok bounded to their feet, and began to prepare for the contest. It is said the Indians are more afraid of catamounts than they are of any other animals. Tomus went to the door of the lodge and looked wildly about, but he saw nothing at first. Millinok stood close by his side, and Therese stood behind them.

'Listen!' said Tomus, turning his ear towards the place where the sound proceeded, and gazing through the bushes. 'I see him! He has just killed a deer, and is now seeking its blood.'

'Me see him,' whispered Millinok. 'He be very large one, and hard to kill.'

'Let me see him,' said Therese, pressing forward to obtain a view of the animal. 'O, he's a monster! He's near enough, I can kill him!'

'May be you wound him, and then he fight us,' said Millinok. 'Tomus must firs first, for he has the biggest gun.'

'Yes; my gun is loaded with two bullets,' replied Tomus. 'You must put a bullet in your gun, Therese, a charge of shot will do no good, but perhaps harm.'

Therese now dropped a bullet into her gun, and stood ready for the emergency. All were much excited, while the voracious creature was making a meal of the deer's quivering flesh. There was an old oak tree, whose branches overhung the catamount.

'I wish I was in that oak tree,' whispered Tomus. 'I could then have a better sight of her. If I fire, I fear I shall only wound her, and then she may come bounding towards us.'

'Me shoot when she's coming,' said the other Indian; while Therese stood with her gun partially raised to her shoulder , and her father's keen eyes were fastened upon the game.

'See how she licks her chops!' whispered Tomus. 'She has made a glorious meal. Now she looks up into the tree! There she bounds, and sets upon a large branch!'

True , as the Indian said, the catamount having eaten her fill, sprang into the oak tree, and there sat as if the world went easy with her. Tomus slowly drew his gun to his shoulder and aimed at the creature's breast. A moment more and the wood echoed with the reverberations of the Indian's gun. The wounded catamount leaped from the tree and struck the ground nearly thirty feet from it. For a moment she was still, and then she made another bound towards the lodge.

'She has her death wound, said Tomus, reloading his gun.

Now the report of Millinok's gun was heard echoing through the wood, and far over the lake. A moment after Therese fired, and the catamount was still.

'He be dead now, I think,' said Millinok, thrusting his head from the door to make sure the creature was actually dead, and deprived of the power of doing harm.

'I hit him, I know,' said Therese, laying her hand on the arm of her father, and advancing two or three steps.

'No danger now, for he is indeed dead,' said Tomus, going out, followed by the others; cautiously they advanced towards the catamount, and found him quite dead.

Therese ran to where the deer was. He also was dead, and his entrails torn out.

'O, what a bloodthirsty monster!' exclaimed Therese, as she gazed upon the mangled body of the deer. See how his claws tore the poor creature's back!'

'Ah, he kill a deer very quick,' said Millinok. 'But he never kill more.'

'And I am glad of it,' replied Therese. 'Now skin him, and let the wolves feed on his carcass.'

They did as Therese advised, and carried the skin and spread it out upon the south end of the lodge to dry, where it would make a formidable appearance. They entertained a superstitious notion that the skin, thus exposed , would be a terror to others. They now, entered the lodge again, and Millinok spoke of a plan he had formed to burn some houses, and murder the occupants. Therese endeavoured to persuade him out of such cruel notions, but his hatred against the pale faces was such, that more eloquence and treaty than she possessed were needed to drive him from his purposes.

'What, burn women and children?' said Therese, gazing upon Millinok in astonishment.'

'Children grow up and fight red man, and women have more children,' said the implacable Millinok. 'Kill all the women and children of the pale faces and soon the men all die.'

'I understand you,' said Therese. 'But you must remember the red men have no now the power to kill all. 'Tis but a few you can kill, and there are thousands upon thousands of the pale faces who will be left.'

'Me kill all me can, and every Indian do the same,' replied Millinok.

Thus they conversed for a long time. The hatred of Millinok towards the Americans was deep and strong, and his soul thirsted for blood. He, in common with his brethren of the forest, believed that the Americans were no better than thieves and robbers, and hesitated not to burn and destroy all that was in his power. And in indulging such feelings, and committing such bloody deeds, his conscience did not upbraid him. The prejudices of Tomus against the whites were quite as strong as his friend's, but he could not fight. Therese did not hate the pale faces as much as her father did; yet she had been taught by him to believe that the Americans had wronged the Indians. It needed not much argument to convince her, or any one else, that the Indians were once the rightful owners of their hunting grounds; but the question comes up whether it was not intended by Providence that this continent should be settled by an educated, cultivated race? And if it were so, that does not qualify the Americans in treating them as they have been. That wrong has been done to the Indians there can be no question

CHAPTER VI

Times have changed. In war letters are eagerly sought for. Woman's opinion upon war. Military fame and glory considered. A better way than war to settle national disputes.

IT is well known to all who have any knowledge of the past, that the facilities for communication forty years ago were far behind the present time. Letters, which are now conveyed to certain points in a single day, were then on their journey several days, if not weeks; and important news which was then dependant on horse power, is now transmitted with almost the speed of thought. The people all over New England, and even thro the Union, were excited and anxious to learn the details and results of all the battles and skirmishes which were fought on land and water; on the northern frontiers; on the Atlantic coast, or at the South. And especially were mothers anxious, whose sons had gone forth to fight the battles of the country. The reader will at once conclude that no mother was more anxious than the widow Dashford, whose darling son held a commission in the army. Previous to the battle on lake Champlain, near Plattsburgh, the citizens of New York city, as well as others, had some weeks been expecting a battle would be fought in that quarter somewhere, and the ambitious and patriotic mother of Captain Dashford, vainly believed both the Canadas would be taken, and her son come out of the wars with great glory. Much has been said, and very justly too, in praise of the women of our Revolution; but history has not yet done full justice to the patriotic women of our last war with the British lion; and but for these chronicles of those times, the widow Dashford might have remained in oblivion, and her son's deeds never brought to light.

Some weeks had passed since this patriotic mother had received any letter from her son, and of course she began to feel very anxious, as all mothers would have felt under the same circumstances. The news of the battle was carried by express, and consequently it reached the city in advance of the regular post. This anxious mother heard of the battle on lake Champlain, and the victory the Americans had gained, and the reader can imagine how excited her feelings must have been to obtain tidings from her son. The news of the battle reached her ears in the evening, while her daughter was at some public meeting of a philanthropic character. The mother was so excited, that she immediately sent one messenger for her daughter, and another to the post office. Emily soon came home, but the servant brought no letter.

'O, Emily, did you hear of the great battle on lake Champlain?' asked the mother, as soon as her daughter entered the room.

'I did hear that some blood had been shed both on the land and on the water,' replied Emily, in a very cool manner.

'Why, Emily, how can you be so cool and callous?' asked the mother, manifesting great surprise that her daughter was not more excited. 'I dare say our Edwin fought bravely. And perhaps he may have been wounded!'

'Perhaps, too, he may have been killed,' replied Emily. 'And if so, what is military glory to him? What would he know about the victory? Ah, mother, these wars are not only very foolish, but very wrong!'

'Foolish! wrong!' replied the mother. 'What under Heaven can the girl mean by such expressions? Havn't the British abused us, and don't they search our vessels, and take away our sailors to the wars? Foolish and wrong, indeed! Why, Emily, you havn't so much patriotism in your whole body as your brother has in his little finger.'

'I have quite as much of that kind of patriotism as I desire,' replied the daughter.

'Wars make widows and orphans, and produce much evil in the world. I had rather bind up one broken, bleeding heart than possess all the military fame and glory that ever any human being acquired. The grave covers all such glory; but doing a deed of charity lives beyond the grave. How much better it would have been for Edwin to do good in the world than to lead a band of hired men to set themselves up as marks to he fired at, or to shoot down others, as the fortune of war may be?'

'O, you're such a dull, stupid creature, that I am out of all patience with you, said the enthusiastic mother. 'It seems to me you havn't a particle of true love of country in your heart. How strange it seems, when you were born of such parents.'

'Dear mother, it so happens, that I have great horror of wars and bloodshed. If there is a person in the world who hates war, and despises military glory, I am that person. Strange, that full grown, sensible men should seek the bubble reputation in the cannon's mouth; and stranger still, that women should fancy military officers. I can assure you, mother, they possess no charms for me. I always pity a man's weakness when I see him strutting about in his regimentals.'

'You talk like a silly girl!' replied her mother. 'How strangely different you are from Jane Canfield! Now she has a heart to appreciate such things, but your's is as cold as a stone in your bosom!'

The bell now rang, and the young lady and this ambitious woman was speaking of, entered the room, much excited, and inquired if they had heard the news.

'Oh,' said she, 'the battle has been fought and the Americans have gamed the victory. Have you received a letter from the deaf Captain?'

'We have not,' replied Mrs. Dashford; while Emily sat silent and thoughtful. He will certainly send immediately. The express came in advance of the mail.'

'I know it; and Edwin ought to have despatched a letter by the express,' said Miss Canfield.

'He was so much engaged that he could not find time,' answered the mother; 'but we shall receive a letter by the next mail.'

'It may be so, if he has the power to write,' said Emily. 'Officers, as well as soldiers, are often shot down or wounded, so that they cannot write. Such is the picture of war!'

'The brave are seldom killed,' replied Jan Canfield. 'I don't believe Edwin has either been killed or wounded.'

'I hope not; but I can't see why the brave are not as liable to be killed as the cowardly,' said Emily. 'They are certainly quite as much or more exposed to danger, and the enemy shows no partiality.'

'Fortune favors the brave,' replied Jane, feeling as if she had said a smart thing.

'Yes, fortune favors the brave!' repeated the mother, gazing fondly upon the beautiful heiress.

'True; some brave men have escaped the dangers of battle, but how many have been struck down in their pride and ambition!—Flatter not yourselves that brave warriors are the especial favorites of Heaven. Angels weep, instead of rejoice, when they look down from the bright skies and behold foolish men engaged in bloody strife, and taking each other's lives. Such a spectacle pleases not the inhabitants of the bright world above, however much pleased ambitious men and women may be with such a demonstration.'

'Why, Emily, it seems to me you grow more and more fanatical every day!' said Jane, first gazing upon Emily and then upon the widow.

'If any one is liable to the charge of fanaticism, it must be you, Jane: for military glory seems to be all in all with you,' replied Emily. 'Bravery is no sign of moral worth, for the greatest scoundrels on earth sometimes exhibit great courage, and look upon death as if they did not fear the grim messenger. Men may fight well and manifest contempt of death, but such are not my favorites, neither do I think they are the favorites of Heaven. They who do works of charity and cultivate the arts of peace, are the best inhabitants of this world. I had much rather have the name of the benevolent Howard than all the fame warriors ever won, or all the laurels ever bound around their brows. The shedding of human blood on the battle-field has no charms for me. I think Edwin was very foolish to take a commission in the army, and those who advised him to such a course may yet bitterly regret they did so. Suppose he was engaged in battle, and bullets whistled by his head, he will not get much fame. The generals get all the renown, and the captains come in for a very small share.'

'Not if the captains particularly distinguish themselves, as I have no doubt Edwin has, replied the proud mother.

'I have no doubt he fought bravely, and his name will be in the papers,' said Jane.

'Perhaps he has, but I very much question it,' replied the sister. 'My opinion is, that Edwin has not so much of that brave spirit you so highly esteem, as you may imagine he possesses, but I like him all the better for it.'

'Why, do you think he is lacking of bravery?' asked Jane.

'Because he boasts so much,' replied Emily. 'All his letters, since he joined the army, have been full of boasting; and a real brave man would not think to talk or write about his bravery and courage. Now Edwin's letters have contained but little besides the great things he intended to accomplish if he had left such matters out of his correspondence I should have thought more of his courage. The boaster never possesses true bravery. The man of true courage never speaks of it.'

'I have heard you talk before,' said her mother, impatiently. 'You don't think as other people do. According to your notions, the whole world is wrong, while you are right.'

'Why, mother, I don't think I have given you any occasion to make such a remark,' said Emily, smiling. 'I certainly have not spoken of myself particularly. I have only condemned war, and given my opinion upon military glory and fame.'

'You seem to have no patriotism at all,' said her mother. 'One would suppose from your remarks that you did not care who gained the victory, whether the Americans or the British.'

'Well, mother, you have a right to your opinion; but I think I ha e as much love of our country as other people,' replied Emily. 'But one thing is quite certain.'

'And pray what is that?' asked Jane.

'I don't desire a military hero for my husband,' replied Emily.

'You need not trouble yourself on that account, for no military hero would ever think of making you his wife,' said Jane, laughing.

'If he did, he would soon find out his mistake,' answered Emily. 'Mother says, I think the whole world is wrong. And I do think so in the estimate it forms of military glory.'

'If we were all like you, we should be a stupid concern,' said the mother.

'If I could have my own way, the groans of the dying should never be heard upon the battle field, nor the shouts of victory upon either side.'

'And what would you have a nation do, when another insults it, and deprives it of its rights and privileges?' asked Jane.

'Apply to some neutral power to settle the difference,' replied Emily. 'When one man injures another in his person or his property, the injured man appeals to the judicial tribunals for a redress of his grievances; and why should not nations apply to some independent power for the settlement of their difficulties, when they cannot amicably settle them themselves? I should love to hear of nations taking such a course, and abandoning the cruelties of war. I suppose America and England had agreed to submit the questions between them to some power friendly to both, instead of going to war, shedding so much human blood, and expending so much money, don't you think it would have been better in the end for both nations?'

'You had better offer your services as mediator between nations when disputes arise between them,' said the mother.

'I don't think such a position would become women so well as men; but after all, I think a jury of intelligent women would settle such disputes more justly and honorably than they could by war.'

'Do hear that!' exclaimed Jane, laughing as if she would split her sides.

'You may laugh, Jane, as loud and as long as you please, but such laughing proves nothing,' said Emily. 'Now, I will ask you what have England and America gone to war for?'

Miss Canfield did not seem very well posted up on that subject, and looked to Miss Dashford, for help, in the emergency The truth is, this young lady knew nothing about the nature of the troubles between the two nations, and therefore remained silent. Emily, and her mother too, noticed that Jane was embarrassed by the question, and the latter relieved her.

'Why every body knows that England impresses our seamen, and makes them fight on board their man-of-wars,' said Mrs Dashford.

'Yes; and that is very wrong,' said Jane, feeling somewhat relieved.

'I'm glad you see it so clearly,' said Emily, smiling, 'Now suppose you were a Queen, and England and our country had agreed before they went to war, to submit the question to you? I think you would have settled it justly, and saved much bloodshed and money. Why, those questions which usually drive nations to war are very simple, and easily understood by unprejudiced minus in the beginning of troubles; and even a jury of women could settle them much better than two contending armies.'

The mother and Jane met all Emily's arguments with laughter and ridicule; but the latter was not to be driven from the ground. Miss Canfield was very much charmed with miliary glory, and sought a hero for her husband. The reader has already seen what kind of a hero she has bargained for. They remained in conversation for some hour or two; but they could not convince Emily that she was wrong, or make her love military fame; but she argued the question in such a manner, that they could not answer, except by laughing and ridicule Mrs. Dashford panted to have her son come home a military hero; and Miss Canfield desired to share in his glory. Never did two ladies more perfectly agree in opinion, than these did; but Emily was as different from them as light from darkness; she saw clearly the evils of war, and could not be blinded by a blaze of military glory.

CHAPTER VIII

The nature of cowardice. Its effects upon the human system. The character of a Hunter. Stealing from the Indians considered. Dashford grows sick of war, and desires other work.

AFTER the battle was fairly over, and the prospects of another had become rather dim, young Captain Dashford recovered his health and was able to be on duty and to exercise his company, which had not been in the hottest part of the skirmishes. Not a man in his company had been wounded, nor one killed, and for the very good reason, they had been but very little exposed.

When Dashford learned all the details of the skirmishes, and how little his company had been exposed to danger, he regretted he had feigned sickness. He questioned Corporal Quin very closely in regard to all the movements of the two armies. When his corporal told him that some of the companies had bravely followed the retreating British forces, and that his company did not, the Captain seemed to lay it to his heart.

'O, heavens!' he said, 'how unfortunate that I was on the sick list, and my brave company was without a head! Had I been well, corporal, we would have followed the red coats across the line and given them something to remember us by.'

'And, Captain, ye may well say that same thing, replied Quin, laughing in his sleeve at Dashford's wonderful courage, when there was no danger. 'We would have chased them clear into their barracks, and picked them off at our leisure while on the way.'

'That would have been glorious fun,' exclaimed Dashford. 'O, how I should have loved to follow the dogs, and drive 'em from American territory. We would have shown British officers what true courage is. Did you hear any of their bullets whistle, when the battle was raging?'

'And did we do that thing, by the powers?' said Quin. 'The bullets whistled over our head thick as hail, at one time; and a big cannon ball came along, plowing the ground and picking up a divil of a dust.'

'A big cannon ball!' repeated Dashford 'What did you do when you saw it coming, corporal?'

'Politely step out of the way, and let the cratur pass,—for no one was inclined to meddle with him, at all at all,' replied the corporal, smiling.

'I should think not,' said the captain.—'Those are dangerous fellows; but then when one is really engaged in the battle, he don't think about the dangers of it.—His whole object is to gain the victory corporal. I love the smell of gunpowder and no music is sweeter to my ears than the rattling of musketry and the roaring of cannon!'

'And, faith, I like sich music—but then I think it sounds sweeter in the distance than when too near our ears,' replied the corporal, while an arch smile played over his pock-marked face. Ye know, captain, all music sounds best in the distance.'

'Ah, corporal, there are a few drops of cowardly blood in your veins,' said Dashford.

'Jist enough to step out of the way and let a cannon ball pass,' replied Quin. 'Any reasonable gentleman would do that thing—don't you think they would, captain?'

'Perhaps so, when the ranks would not be much broken by such a movement,' said the young officer. The ranks, you know, corporal, must not be broken when the battle rages. A solid front always to the enemy; and never let him know his shots do execution.'

'A good idea,' said the corporal. 'When one in the front rank is shot down another must take his place.'

'Exactly so,' said Dashford. 'Ah! there comes Major Rockwell!'

'And a brave officer he is, too, as ever handled a sword,' said Quin.

The Major now approached them, and inquired after Dashford's health.

'Very much improved,' said Dashford. 'I exceedingly regret my indisposition. I understand, from my Corporal, that my company behaved bravely upon the field; but if I could have headed them in person, we would have followed the redcoats on their retreat, cut them up. Strange, that I should have been unwell at that particular time? But we have no control over such matters.'

'We have not, indeed,' replied the Major.' 'But the British may reinforce themselves, and yet give you a chance to lead your company into the thickest of the fight.'

'Do you think there is any prospect of that?' anxiously inquired Dashford.

'Indeed, I can't tell what they will do,' replied the Major. 'They will not probably return to give us battle here again, now they have lost control of the lake; but then we may be ordered to follow, and give them battle on the Canadian side.'

'That is just what I want,' said Quin, smiling, and winking at the Major. 'Let us have a chance at 'em on their own soil, and we can whip 'em to death.'

'That's the right kind of pluck!' said the Major. 'And I should'nt wonder if we received orders to advance before to-morrow's sun shall go down.'

The young Captain begun to look pale, in spite of his efforts to conceal his emotions. There was something in the idea of a regularly pitched battle that shook his nerves, and made him humble. He had been told by others, that there would be no more fighting; and he was sorry to hear the Major thus converse.

'I hope we shall not advance until my strength is fully restored,' said the Captain. 'Although I am much better than I was a few days ago, yet I still feel rather weak.'

'Yes; and what little strength ye do posses would soon depart if the redcoats should come in sight,' thought the Corporal; but he kept his thoughts concealed from his captain.

'Never mind, you're on the mending hand and will soon be well,' said the Major.

'Ah, there's my old friend, Job Bellows, the hunter, who knows every tree in the forest.

Job Bellows now came up, and a rough looking fellow he was. Being very tall, he was built for a ranger, and could traverse the wood with the speed and skill of an Indian. It is not expected that such men as Job Bellows are very much refined or greatly troubled with the restrictions of conscience. He hated the Indians, and had often stolen their furs. Tomus suspected him of stealing his furs some two or three winters previous, yet he had no positive proof of the offence. If Tomus had been certain, the probability is, that Bellows would not then have been numbered among the congregations of the living. Tomus was a powerful athletic Indian, and was more than a match for Bellows, stalwar' as the latter was.

'Ah, Major Rockwell, I'm glad to see ye alive, and kicking, since the battle,' said Bellows. 'That was a roaring fight on the lake; but the Americans were a little too much for the British. I stood where I could see the whole of it. I conclude if we had'nt beat 'em on the water, the redcoats would not have taken to their heels quite so soon on the land.'

'Very true,' replied the Major. 'But les me make you acquainted with Captain Dashford, a brave officer from New York city.'

Bellows was now introduced, and shook the Captain's hand powerfully.

'Did ye git so near the British as to see the white of their eyes?' asked Job.

'I was sick, sir, and not able to lead my company to the field,' replied Dashford.

'Ye warn't scared, so as to make you sick, was you, young man?' inquired Job, laughing. 'Some of these city bred fellows hav'nt pluck enough to fight.'

'You do Captain Dashford injustice,' said the Major. 'He is a very brave officer.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' said Job. 'I hate a coward above ground. These are not times for cowards to live in. Well, young man, I'll take back all I have said. I suppose you would give the redcoats warm work, if you had been able to lead your company forward?'

'We should, sir, have sought the place where the bullets flew faster and thicker,' answered Dashford; swelling up to move than his usual size.

'Bravo, young Captain!' said the old hunter. 'I glory in your spunk. You'll do. I should like to have such a young man as you are, to hunt with me.'

'I fancy your jaunts would be rather too long and tedious,' said Rockwell. 'The Captain has seen a beautiful wild flower of the wood, and would like to know where she and her father lives.'

'Wild flower of the wood!' repeated Job, casting his eyes upon the ground, and reflecting a moment. 'Ah, yes; I think I know who it is; the daughter of old Tomus. By Heavens, ain't she a flower beautiful to look upon but her father is a sly dog. The man who gets round him must rise early in the morning. I have known him for years, and he's the smartest hunter in these regions. But why a white woman should live with him, is more than I know, and more than he was even willing to tell me. He's a close mouth dog, and lets out none of his secrets. The mother of this wild flower was as handsome as a picture. I have seen her several times, but she's dead now.'

'Did she die in the forest?' inquired Dashford.

'Yes; and was buried there,' replied Job 'I've seen her grave on a sidehill, not many rods from the lake where he now lives. Ah, sir, she was a splendid woman; but how she came to fancy a great stout Indian, is beyond my comprehension.'

'Did you ever remain all night in his lodge?' asked the captain, looking very anxious.'

'Not exactly, young man,' replied Bellows, smiling. Tomus don't think much of the virtue of the pale faces when handsome women are round No, no. The Indian watches over his daughter night and day

I suppose he leaves her sometimes for a day or two, while he is hunting, does he not?' inquired Dashford.

'Never through the night,' replied Job, assuming quite an arch look. 'When he goes out hunting, to be gone over night, she always goes with him. She can hunt as well as her father. He has brought her up to it, and she can now beat him with the gun or fishing-rod. I tell ye, young man, she's the greatest and nicest piece of humanity to be found in this whole country.'

'I should think a hunter's life would make her rough and homely,' said Dashford.

'Lord bless your soul!' said Job. 'Make her rough and homely! No more than it does the beautiful doe. She can run through the wood like a deer, and look slick as an other afterwards. Her's is a kind of beauty ye can't wear off like the tinsel on the wing of a butterfly. No, no, young man. Such beauty worn't blow off by every breeze. It is there on her cheeks, and in her eyes, and ye can't rub it out. Why, your city beauties have no more substance than a milkweed; touch it, and it rubs off. Have you seen her!'

'I have, indeed,' replied Dashford.

'Well, then ye have seen her beauty with your own eyes,' said Bellows. 'Did ye notice her long, black, glossy hair? Hang me if I believe there is a single drop of Indian blood in her veins: I may be too fast there; but hang me, if I believe Tomus is her father. If she is his daughter, or the daughter of any other Indian, then I'm sorry for it, that's all.'

'Why so?' asked Major Rockwell, smiling at the earnestness of the hunter.

'Because, I don't like the breed,' replied Bellows. 'I hate an Indian; he is so sly and treacherous.'

'I think the Indians have used us quite as well as we have them, said Bellows. 'We must remember they ones owned our whole country.'

'And who cares for that?' said Job 'The Almighty never intended that the Indians should keep possession of this continent.'

'Perhaps not; but then that furnishes no reason why we should have treated them so ill as we have,' said the Major. 'We have been too prone to drive them from their hunting grounds, and not pay them well. True, we have got their lands: but then we ought to have exercised more mercy towards them than we have exercised. I think it is quite bad enough to stead away their hunting grounds, without stealing their furs, as many of our hunters have done.'

'Rather a sly hint, Major,' said Bellows, laughing, and winking his right eye. 'If ye begin to poke sharp sticks I must be off.'

'I did'nt intend to hit you; but if the saddle suits, you may put it on, and wear it,' said Rockwell. 'I say it is wrong to steal an Indian's furs.'

'He's nothing else to do but to hunt and get more,' said Bellows.'

'And that's a mighty poor reason for stealing what a man has,' said Quin. 'Ye would steal my shirt, and then tell me I'm nothing else to do but to go and buy another one.'

'You're right Corporal,' said Rockwell. 'If such a reason could justify the stealing of an Indian's furs, then all sorts of theft might be justified. Fair play is the jewel. When an Indian has hunted through a long winter, and procured his furs, he ought to have the benefit of them, and no man has a right to them until he purchases, and pays an honest price for them.'

'You military men who never beat the bush, and are well paid, can talk; but suppose you had been out all winter, and had not so much furs as you could conveniently carry out of the woods, and should find a lot in an Indian's hut, don't you think you might be tempted to put them into your own pack?' asked Bellows.

'Never!' replied the Major, in a very emphatic manner.

'Ah, you hav'nt had the trial yet,' said Bellows. 'Men don't know what they would do under certain circumstances until those circumstances happen.'

Thus they conversed, but the moral sense of Bellows was very much blunted, so far as stealing from the Indians was concerned. He considered such theft fair game; but he was always careful not to be detected. Knowing the Indian's sleepless spirit of revenge, he was exceedingly cautious how, when, and where he stole furs. Captain Dashford was well pleased with the appearance and even character of this hunter, and believed he would be just the man to assist him in obtaining an interview with the half Indian beauty. This young Captain began to grow sick of the war, and desired something more romantic and less hazardous to life and limb.

CHAPTER VIII

Waiting for letters by an ambitious mother, and fond lover. The excitement on receiving them. The concealment of true character. Contrast between mother and daughter.

Mrs. Dashford was almost out of patience in waiting for a letter from her son, and Jane Canfield was still more impatient; but the young man's sister was calm and quiet. True, she felt some anxiety about her brother ; but her anxious feelings arose from different motives and causes which affected the other ladies. While they were mainly anxious to hear of his military fame, and how bravely he fought the British, she feared he might have fallen in battle. However, they were not destined to remain long in suspence, for six days after the battle two letters came; one to the mother, and the other to Miss Canfield,

'O, Emily,' said the ambitions and overjoyed mother,' 'I have received a letter from our Edwin! Where have you been all the morning? After I read the letter I tried to find you. It contains glorious news. Here, take and read it aloud to me'

Emily took the letter, and read as follows:

'Dear mother—A glorious time we have had! The British redcoats came down upon us in great numbers, both on the land and on the lake; but our gallant army and navy came up to the work like men determined to conquer or to die, and drive the enemy back. We have gained a glorious victory, and there is great rejoicing on the shores of lake Champlain. O, it was delightful to hear the roaring of cannon, the sharp cracking of our musketary, and to witness the clouds of smoke arising from the land and the water? The profession of arms is a ferocious profession. I thank Heaven that I joined our army, and have fought and conquered the enemy of our beloved country. My company behaved most gloriously upon the field. The redcoats did not inspire them with fear; but they pressed into the thickest of the battle, and stood bravely up. I have received no wounds; but the bullets flew like hail for a while, until we silenced the enemy. I think this battle will end the war. The British Lion has now been taught that he has a powerful enemy in the glorious American Eagle. The Stars and Stripes now float gloriously and triumphantly on the land and on the lake. I would write more, but I feel much fatigued.'

Emily read the letter, but mace no comments upon it, leaving that to be performed by the ambitious mother. Such bravado made this good girl sick at heart; but it filled the mother full of joy and gladness

'There, Emily, did you ever read such an interesting letter before?' asked the mother.

'I must confess mother, I do not feel so much interest in it as you seem to feel,' replied Emily. 'I rejoice that Edwin is still alive, and well; but all the roaring of the cannon, and the smoke of the battle, have no charms for me. I have the same opinion of war now I have always entertained. I consider it one of the greatest evils of the world, and all its glory as worse than useless.'

'The same old tune!' said the mother, manifesting much impatience, if not anger. 'You hav'nt a single particle of patriotism in your heart. O, I wish your father were alive, to read this letter! He would have been so delighted with it. He always wished the British might be whipped; and now they have got it, and our son, too, helped do it. I wish he would have lived till this day .'

'If he could come back from the spiritual world and read this letter, he would not have such emotions as you imagine,' replied Emily. 'He has learned there that nations are about equal in moral depravity; and that wars are a curse rather than a blessing to them. He knows now what we shall be obliged to learn. If he were allowed to send word to the earth, he could tell Edwin that military fame and glory are worthless, and furnishes no substantial good to the possessor of them.'

'There, then, Emily, stop,' said the mother. 'I will not have the memory of your good father thus abused.'

'Why, mother, how strangely you talk!' replied Emily. 'I am the last person in the world to injure the name of my father. But he knows more now than he did when he was on earth. His mind, before, was dark and obscure, but is now enlightened, and he sees things in their true light. I hope, mother, you will not have to wait until your spirit is ushered into the other world before you have the same light. I'm sick and tired of hearing about this war and its glory. It all looks very foolish to me.'

'Wonderful wisdom!' said the mother, 'I wonder how you come to be so very wise!'

'By divesting my mind of all prepossessions, and fixing it upon the great principles of right, regardless of what the world thinks.'

'Truly wonderful,' exclaimed the mother, 'What a wise daughter I have!'

'And I hope my mother will yet grow more wise ere she dies,' said Emily. 'Depend upon it Edwin will come out of the war worse than he went in; and you will yet be convinced of it. Suppose he may acquire a little military fame, will that compensate for his loss of moral character?'

'You are always harping upon moral character,' said Mrs. Dashford.

'And for the very good reason that a pure moral character is all that is worth carrying into another world, replied Emily. 'I love my brother, and would have him happy here and hereafter; but all the glory he can get in war will never make him so. Dear mother, you may yet live to repent that you ever advised him to join the army. You know not what power temptation has over him, and especially that kind of temptation which is always found in the camp and the field.'

'Enough, in all conscience!' said the mother, impatiently.

At that moment Jane Canfield came hurrying in with her letter. She was much excited, and almost out of breath.

'O, said Jane,' fastening her eyes upon the letter in Emily's hand. 'You have received a letter too, from Edwin! Do let me read it!'

Emily gave it her, and she read it through several times, while the mother read Jane's quite as many times. Emily manifested no wish to see the letter.

'O, what a beautiful, patriotic letter!' exclaimed Mrs. Canfield. 'Only think how brave he was in the midst of flying bullets! O, how much I wish to see him now!'

'I suppose you would love him the more in case he was instrumental in a few murders,' said Emily. 'You appear to be fond of blood-red officers.'

'Don't mind what Emily says,' ejaculated the mother. 'This letter of your's is indeed a splendid one! I don't see how he could write so just after such a great battle. He seems to be calm and collected as though he were at home, and not in the excitement and agitation of the battle field!'

'Yes; and how well he speaks of his company!' said Jane.

'They are brave men who placed themselves under Edwin's command,' said the widow.

'When think you he will come home?' asked Jane. 'He writes that he thinks this battle will end the war. O, how I long to see him!' Now I think of it, why not have his letter published in the newspapers? It would read finely in print.'

'That's a capital idea,' replied the mother. 'I will consult old Major Dobois about it. No doubt he will have it published, for he is a particular friend of Edwin's.'

'Why not have your letter published also?' asked Emily, smiling. 'I suppose there is more of war than of love in it.'

Jane turned her sparkling eyes on Emily, but made no reply; while Mrs. Dashford was evidently provoked at her daughter's question, accompanied as it was, with a laugh, or rather, smile, which told her feelings better than words.

'I think, Emily, it would be more becoming in you to mind your own business,' said the mother, expressing some anger in her looks.

'I intended no harm, mother, I'm sure,' replied Emily. 'True, I would not be so foolish as to recommend the love-part of the letter to be published; and that might be stricken out, and the war-part given to the public. The people will swallow it, however much boasting there may be in it. The public mind is all prepared for such things. If you wish that Edwin should become famous, let his letters be published by all means.'

They hardly knew how to take Emily, still they were suspicious that she was making fun of the whole concern, as she really was.

'You hav'nt read my letter, and how do you know it will do to be published?' asked Jane. 'You had better read it before you thus recommend it.'

'No matter about that,' replied Emily. 'I understand well enough how it is written. These letters upon love and war are all alike, and one strain runs through them. You might, Jane, strike out the love-part and give the war-part to the Editors, to be published under the following caption:—'Glorious news from our army! Extract from a letter written by the gallant young Captain, Edwin Dashford, to a young lady of this city.' The letter would be read, no doubt, with much interest. The curiosity of the people would be excited from the fact that the letter was written to a young lady. O, Jane, have it published by all means, and if you desire to have your name connected with the war and obtain your share of the fame, you might have that published also. In these times of excitement it is quite an easy thing to acquire fame. Why, you might come out with a letter yourself, and inform the public that you loved your country so much, that you cheerfully consented to your lover's going to battle field, and braving all the horrors of .'

'Heavens and earth!' exclaimed Jane, w you talk!'

'Yes; and such talk as I will have no more of,' said the irritated mother.

'Emily is a strange girl, and think differently from almost every body else,' said Mrs. Dashford. She has always manifested the utmost contempt for war; after provoking her father and throwing ridicule upon his opinions. She is indeed a very odd mortal, and I have no hope she will ever be any better, or more natural. Her father used to lecture her, but it did not improve her. And she seems to be growing more and more fanatic every day.'

'She may feel different when Edwin comes home, and his name is in all the papers,' said Jane. 'She will then learn that fame, even military fame, is not to be thus despised. No doubt, Edwin fought bravely. O, how I desire to see him, and hear from his own lips the details of the battle!'

'And so do I,' replied Mrs. Dashford. 'It is possible that he may come home before many weeks. Let me see—what was the name he said he should give his company? I declare it has gone out of my mind this moment.'

The New York Invincibles,' replied Miss Canfield.

'O, yes; that's it,' answered the widow. 'The New York Invincibles! What does that mean? It does not now occur to me, my mind is so flurried.'

'Invincible means not to be conquered,' replied the learned young lady.

'A capital name, and properly given to his brave company,' exclaimed the mother.

'Indeed it is,' replied the loving Jane. 'A brave officer always makes brave soldiers. It will be no longer said by proud and haughty Englishmen that the Americans are cowards as well as rebels.'

'Yes; Edwin and his noble warriors have taught the Britishers a lesson they will not soon forget,' answered this would-be heroine. 'Keep watch of the papers, dear Jane, for we shall see his name in them as one of the heroes of the war. His company of Invincibles will also be highly spoken of'

'I will do so, dear Mrs. Dashford. How strange it is that Emily should be so much opposed to war, when the battle-field raises so many heroes. Oh, how happy I shall be in listening to Edwin's account of the battle.'

'He will remember all about it, and give us a more minute account than we can get from the newspapers,' replied the fond mother. 'I have reason to feel proud of such a son. I think you and he must be married soon after his return. The time will soon come when you can form a very honorable connection. It will be a marriage mentioned in all the papers and talked of in the higher and more fashionable circles.'

'And don't you think Edwin will be promoted?' inquired the ambitious girl.

'No doubt he will become a general in due time,' answered the mother. 'I have heard several remark that he would undoubtedly be promoted, and, especially, if he proved himself a brave officer in the present war.'

'A general!' repeated the excited girl.—'That is a glorious title.'

'And Mrs. General Dashford would not sound bad, would it?' asked the mother, smiling most graciously upon her intended daughter-in-law, and feeling remarkably happy.

'Don't mention it,' replied Jane, even blushing, and partially covering her face with her kerchief. 'I reckon it will make some folks stare and feel envious too. By the way, why does Emily pay so much attention to Harriett Melville? I saw them walking yesterday in Broadway , and they appeared mighty thick together,'

'Emily is an odd creature, and has some strange fancies,' replied Mrs. Dashford.—She pretends to think that Harriet was a very superior girl.'

'And she thinks so, I suppose, because the girls work ten or fifteen hours a day,' said Jane, expressing much contempt in her countenance for such menial service as Miss Melville was subjected to

'Emily says she is a girl of fine talents, and has written some excellent poetry,' said the mother.

'Written some excellent poetry!' repeated Jane, exhibiting much scorn and contempt. 'I should be ashamed to write such sentimental stuff as she does. Why, she wrote a piece a few weeks ago, condemning the war, and describing the poor widows and orphans the war has already made.'

'I read it, and it actually made me sick at the stomach!' said the widow; 'but Emily praised it very highly. She thinks, too, that Harriett is one of the most beautiful girls in the city. I must confess she is handsome, but what of that, when she has to work all day.'

'She looks well enough, but then her fingers are all pricked with the needles,' said Jane. 'Her fingers are as rough as a grater—I couldn't endure even to be touched by her.'

While those proud and ambitious women were thus conversing, Harriet Melville was diligently employed with her needle.

As Mrs. Dashford said, her daughter did esteem Harriett very highly and sought her society.

Harriet did possess a great share of personal beauty and she was as good and virtuous as she was beautiful—a more virtuous girl never breathed the city atmosphere. Her beauty was often spoken of and attracted much attention.

She was surrounded by temptations, yet she had power to resist them all. Edwin Dashford addressed her, for several months, in the character of a lover, but her love of virtue was stronger than her love for him. He became somewhat provoked with her, but that circumstance did not make her change her course or shrink from her duty. Instead of finding her servile and cringing under frowns as he expected, he found her quite as independent as he was himself, telling him to leave her if he pleased, and assuring him that she could not be controlled by any living man however rich and powerful he might be. He loved her more than he ever did any other young lady, and did not at first suppose that he should ever for sake her, but he threatened to leave her in an unlucky moment, and she took him at his word. 'Go,' said she, 'and not threaten me with your displeasure. I have hands to work with and a reputation which I shall keep spotless in spite of you or any other person. For some time I have thought that we could never live happily together. We were born to different fortunes, and have been brought up differently, therefore it may be better for both to separate now and forever.'

Such were the words and sentiments of this good girl. They were the last she ever uttered in his hearing. He was suddenly exasperated and much excited, uttering an oath inadvertently and leaving her. But even then he did not suppose it would be his last interview with her. Some weeks afterwards, he wrote her a letter, partially apologizing for his rude conduct, and asking an interview, but she declined all intercourse with him. Believing he had on that occasion exhibited his true character, and fearing to have any further conversation with him, she wrote him a long and severe letter, in which she positively refused to meet him. Receiving that letter, he became much enraged and engaged himself to Jane Canfield, a girl of a large fortune and of fashionable education. Miss Melville was by far the more beautiful and fascinating girl, and her mental accomplishments were far superior to those of Jane Canfield. Thus matters stood when the young man received his commission and entered the army at the head of a company which he denominated the Invincibles. In consequence of his engagement to Harriett Melville, his sister Emily formed an acquaintance with her which resulted in a permanent friendship. Although her brother and Harriett had separated without any prospect of a renewal of their engagement, yet Emily did not forsake her friend, but became most intimate with her. In their notions of religion and moral reforms they were perfectly agreed, and their friendship grew strong as a agreed fold cord.

CHAPTER IX

The dandy Captain forsakes the Invincibles. Speech of Victor Grand on the occasion. The Invincibles did not mourn for the loss of their Captain. The plot thickens.—More development of character.

IT was currently rumored that the British had reinforced themselves, and intended to give battle to the American army. That rumor was more rife among the soldiers than among the officers; but Captain Dashford believed it, and governed himself accordingly.

Some two or three weeks after the battle, the young Captain one morning came up missing. His corporal, too, Michael Quin, was not to be found.

Much inquiry was made for the lost captain and corporal. The Invincibles were without a head, and made diligent search for young Dashford; but he was not to be found in the camp or field.

Hugh Fitzgerald and Victor Gravel made much sport out of the young Captain's absence, and they were not alone in that sort of demonstration.

Captain Dashford had become the laughing-stock of the army. Some said the Indians had carried him off, and others said he had gone to see his mother.

Poor Dashford was now the but of ridicule from all quarters.

The Invincibles were highly gratified, and unanimously expressed a wish that he never would return. The company had a meeting upon the subject, and passed resolutions, expressing their joy at the Captain's absence. They were addressed on the occasion by Victor Gravel, who excited by his speech much laughter,—

'Fellow-soldiers,' said Victor, stepping in front of the company, and pulling off his cap, 'I'm not a regular soldier in this army, but I can fight the Britishers at any time, or in any place, if it be on their own dunghill. I'm from the Green Mountain State, and of course I hate a coward as I do poison. Your Captain has absquatulated, I'm told, and a good riddance, say I; and so all will say, fellow-soldiers. Perhaps he has drowned himself in the lake for fear the red-coats would shoot him. He had a terrible horror of being shot. If he has not jumped into the lake, he has probably gone home to see his marm, who ought to have tied him to the bed-post or to her apron-strings before she ever let him join the army.'

Here the Vermonter could not be heard there was such demonstrations of applause The shouting continued for a long time before the Green Mountain orator commenced again. He finally finished his speech, amidst great applause. Before he got through, several officers had assembled, and among them was Major Rockwell, who came near splitting his sides with laughter.

After Victor had made his speech, he put on his cap, and approached Major Rockwell with a quaint smile on his face and his pipe in his month. He lit his pipe immediately on finishing his address, and went puffing along as if he cared for nobody nor any thing upon earth.

'How are ye, Major?' said Gravel, taking the Major's hand and giving it a real pump-handle shake. 'Did ye hear my speech to the company without a captain?'

'I did, and liked it very much,' replied the Major, smiling.

'I thought I would console them a little for the loss of their dandy captain,' said Gravel, taking his pipe from his mouth and sending up a large volume of smoke over his head—'why did they give such a dandy a captain's commission? The government ought to be ashamed of it. A thousand regiments of such fellows couldn't stand a moment before a company of British regulars. They would be frightened to death, and leave the field before the first gun was fired.'

'Kissing goes by favor, you know,' said Rockwell. 'I think it was a foolish thing to commission such a coward; but then his father was very rich, and a loud advocate of the war, and of the powers that be. Such men must be rewarded.

'Yes; but not at the expense of the honor of our country,' said Victor, stamping his foot upon the ground. 'What is an army without good officers? I despise such favoritism. Why should a New York dandy be commissioned who never did anything to earn one? Because a man is rich, and advocates the war, is that any reason why his cowardly son should be commissioned in the American army? I was opposed to out Government's declaring war, but now we're in't, I'm for fighting it out and licking the British. But to fight under such a monkey as Dashford, is absolutely disgraceful. If I had been a soldier in his company, and engaged in battle, I should be half inclined to shoot at him instead of firing at the enemy. At any rate, I think I should have winged him, so that he might be carried into the rear.'

'I think you would have found him far enough in the rear without firing at him or having him carried there,' said Rockwell.

'No doubt of that,' replied Victor, laughing very loud. 'I was only supposing a case. But where do you think the fellow has gone? It seems to me he would have been ashamed to go home and seek protection in the arms of his mother.'

'My opinion is, that he has gone into the forest,' replied Rockwell.

'Gone into the forest?' repeated Victor, in much surprise, 'He has not gone alone, for he's too much of a coward for that

'No, but then you know Corporal Quin is also missing,' said the Major.

'Well, Quin may not be a coward, but he knows nothing about these forests,' replied Victor. 'They would be afraid of the Indians.'

'Not so much afraid of them as they are of the British,' said the Major. 'Besides, Job Billows is also missing' I may be mistaken, but my opinion is, he has hired old Billows to accompany him, and his corporal to the lodge of Tomus the father of a beautiful girl, whom he saw and fell in love with some weeks ago. He's a great admirer of beautiful women'

'By heavens, Major, I believe you have hit the nail on the head,' exclaimed Victor. 'I have heard of that girl, and I'll bet my life he has gone there. But that beautiful girl, shall not be played false with so long as Victor Gravel has arms to defend her.'

'She has a good protector in her father,' replied the Major.

'True, but he is but one, and there are three of them,' said Victor. 'No, I may be wrong in reckoning him one, but there will be two against one, and that is one too many.'

But Tomus is a match for any two white men,' said Rockwell. 'However, they might shoot him slyly, and forcibly carry away his daughter. Do you think they are wicked enough for that?'

'That old Billows will do any thing for money,' replied Victor. 'And I'm thinking, that Corporal Quin is not much better. I did'nt like the looks of him the first time I saw him. Money, is a powerful temptation with him, else I have not read his countenance right. He has vicious, ugly looking eyes. I should'nt wonder, if he was a great rogue before he came to this country. You know, Major, the army picks up a good many scoundrels.'

'I hope you didn't mean any thing general, do you?' asked Rockwell, smiling. 'I can't mean you, Major, that's quite certain,' replied Victor, laughing.' 'But, to be serious, I fear some foul play is intended, for that handsome forest maiden, and hang me, if I would'nt fight for her as I would for my own sister, she must be protected at all hazards. I will talk with my friend and companion, Hugh Fitzgerald, as true a hearted fellow as ever crossed the ocean, or breathed American air. We came over the lake to fight for our country, against the British, and having licked our enemies, we are now ready for any good work. There, I see my friend Hugh coming. He'll go in for protecting the ladies.'

Fitzgerald now approached, whistling a Scotch air, and appearing to possess a large share of self complacency.

'You have missed a grand treat,' said the Major, as the Scot came up.

'And what is that?' inquired Hugh, smiling.

'Your friend here, has made a speech to the New York Invincibles,' replied the Major , 'and I can assure you we have all had a hearty laugh.'

And I wish I had been present,' said Hugh. 'I opine, that Victor ministered comfort to them for the loss of their Captain. But sir, a loss as that must be a gain to the country. He had no courage to drown himself in the lake I think, but may be he has ganged home to his mother.'

The laugh now went round, and the good Scotchman was told what they had been talking about before he came up. He was much excited and was ready for any enterprise.

'I'm a true son of gude Scotland, and am ready to fight the enemies of America, my adopted country, or to protect the bonnie lassies in all climes,' said Hugh. 'I'll gang wi ye for awa' to shield the laddies from a' harm that may be threatened them'

'I knew my good friend would join me in any enterprize to protect the ladies,' said Victor. 'The dandy Captain mustn't be permitted to pluck that flower of the forest. If he's too much of a coward to fight the enemies of his country, he shall not suck the honey from sweet lips.'

'I like your spirit and resolution,' said the Major. 'It is only the brave that deserve the fair.'

'Very well spoken, major,' replied Hugh. 'A coward has no business with a bonnie lassie; and a more arrant coward than Dashford never was seen.'

Such was the spirit manifested by Victor Gravel and Hugh Fitzgerald. To defeat young Dashford was an enterprise in which they were ready to engage.

Major Rockwell also felt anxious that this libertine should be circumvented, if possible. He became satisfied that Job Bellows was a black-hearted villain, and from what he could earn of the corporal's character, he had not a much better opinion of him.

It was agreed that a strict watch should be kept up for several days, and every exertion put forth to ascertain where Capt. Dashford was.

Victor and Hugh did not start off into the forest, to seek the lodge of Tomus, at first, but kept up a sharp look-out in the wood that skirted Plattsburg, hoping they might discover Dashford.

It was thought that Dashford was concealed somewhere in the forest, in the vicinity of that place, making preparations to abduct the Indian beauty, whenever she and her father might come that way.

They did not suppose that Jobe Bellows, would lead the captain and corporal to the lodge of Thumas, and make a bold push to kill the father and carry off his daughter. Billows was cautious how to proceed, when he had any thing to do with the Indians. He knew the character of Tomus, and had often seen Millinok, who resided upon the northern shore of Chazy Lake. There were also several other Indians who camped in the vicinity of the lake, who would any moment join Tomus and Millinok. Billows was well known to many Indians, as he had long been engaged in hunting in those parts. These Indians did not like him, for they suspected he had stolen their furs. They had no positive proof of the past, but strongly suspected him. On several occasions Job's life had been in great danger, but he contrived to escape Indian revenge. They had often talked over the matter among themselves and threatened to kill him. Bellows suspected that he did not stand very well with the Indians, but he did not fully know the extent of their hatred against him. He had once stole an Indian's furs when the Indian was away from his camp, but he had not proceeded far before he met him. As they passed each other, the Indian's keen eyes fell on a pile of furs which he suspected might be his. He hurried to his camp and his furs were gone. He did not tarry long, but returned in pursuit of Bellows, who hastened his steps with all his power, suspecting the Indian, when he ascertained his furs were gone, would follow him and seek revenge. Bellows endeavored to select such ground to travel over as would leave the least trail. He continued his rapid movement for several hours and began to think the Indian could not find his trail, but he was destined to be defeated, for the Indian was upon his track, pursuing him with all his might. Both were rapid travellers in the forest, but the Indian possessed the most speed. Once the Indian lost his trail, for Bellows turned a short corner and travelled towards the east some mile or two and then made a turn to the west. The reason of that was the ground was favorable and he hoped the Indian would not be able to follow him. True, the Indian did not follow him, but as good luck would have it, he pursued a straight course until he again found his trail, thereby saving much distance, and coming in sight of Bellows. Stealthy as a cat the Indian pursued, and although Bellows often looked back, yet he did not discover his foe. The whistling of a bullet close to his head, followed by the sharp report of a musket roused Bellows to his danger. Instantly throwing down his backload of furs, he faced about and had a glimpse of the Indian as he was in the act of reloading his gun. To make sure of his victim, Bellows ran with his gun at his shoulder. The Indian saw him coming, and can too reloading his gun in the meantime, and at last concealing himself behind a large pine tree.

Bellows hurried on, resolved to get a shot before the Indian could be prepared to fire And the villain succeeded but too well. The Indian was shot down, and died upon the spot. Bellows left him and hurried on. He had too much cunning to take his victim's gun, or any thing that belonged to him except his furs. These could not be recognized as other articles might.

This scoundrel and murderer escaped with a valuable lot of furs, and boasted, when he reached the settlements on the shore of the lake, that no live man could beat him in hunting. Such were some of the traits in the character of Job Bellows. Well might Victor Gravel, or any one else say of him that he would do anything for money.

Michael Quin's character was no better than the old hunter's. He once lived as a servant in Mr. Dashford's family, but afterwards became a pickpocket. Once he had been detected in filching from a gentleman's pocket and suffered the penalty of the law He was always on familiar terms with young Dashford even after he had left the family and been convicted of theft. Quin was a scoundrel at heart, and the young Captain knew it, but notwithstanding that, he urged him to join his company and made him a corporal. Bellows and this Irishman were well calculated to join in the perpetration of any deed, however black and corrupt, which might yield them money. Young Dashford's financial abilities were none of the best, and his money went freely, provided his corrupt propensities could be gratified by its expenditure.

CHAPTER X

The mother's continued solicitude. The sad effects of a few verses of poetry. A needle girl the authoress. The dangers to which young men are exposed. Sensible women.

Time passed on, and Mrs. Dashford and Jane Canfield were watching the papers daily and expecting to see some flaming account of the beloved Edwin's brilliant exploits and military demonstrations. Urged by Miss Canfield, the widow Dashford had published in one of the newspapers which was most rabid against England and in favor of the war, an extract from her son's letter to her. When Emily read it she was sick at heart, and Harriett composed a few verses of poetry under the caption of 'Military Dandies,' which produced quite a sensation in the city when published in an opposition paper. The verses did not mention the names of Captain Dashford, but many knew they alluded to him. In certain circles this poetry created a good deal of fun and laughter. Fearing her mother and Miss Canfield might not notice this poetry sarcasm, Emily one morning procured the paper containing it and handed it to Jane It was the next day after it was published. As they were not in the habit of reading this paper, they had not seen the poetry.

'Any thing about dear Edwin?' asked the mother when Emily handed the paper to Miss Canfield.

'Miss Canfield, perhaps, can answer that question better than I can after she has read the paper,' replied Emily, smiling rather archly, while Jane was engaged in reading the piece with many changes of countenance.

The color came and went in Jane's face while she was reading the poetical effusion of Miss Melville. Mrs. Dashford, in the meantime, was tormented with a thousand conflicting emotions.

'What are you reading?' anxiously inquired the agitated widow.

'O dear, how shameful!' exclaimed Jane, dropping the paper upon the carpet, and looking anxiously into the mother's face.

'What is shameful?' asked the mother, gazing upon the paper and not daring to touch it. 'Do tell me,'

'if Jane's feelings are so overcome that she cannot express her emotions I will read the poetry to you,' said Emily.

'Poetry!' repeated the agitated woman, 'what—whose poetry? What is it about? Can you not speak and tell me?'

Emily now took up the paper and read in a clear, distinct voice, but she had not read more than half of the verses before Mrs. Dashford interrupted her,—

'For heaven's sake don't read any more such stuff as that!' exclaimed the widow. 'I will not hear it.'

'That miserable, envious needle girl wrote it!' groaned Jane, flashing her eyes, and looking daggers at Emily.

'Who?—Harriet Melville?' asked Mrs. Dashford, looking wild.

'I believe it is the name under which she writes,' cannily replied Emily.

'The envious jade!' exclaimed the mother, rising up and walking about the room in great agitation. 'She ought to stick to her needle.'

'She does stick to her needle, and earns a handsome living by it,' answered Emily; but she also finds time to use the pen—and most adroitly does she use it, too—she writes better poetry than any lady in the city. This piece will be copied into hundreds of the papers.'

'And you praise her poetry, too,' said the mother; 'praise the poetry that slanders your own brother?'

'Strange a sister can do such things,' said Jane.

'My brother's name is not mentioned in a single verse,' returned Emily.

'What if it isn't? You know the poetry aims at him,' said Jane.

'Perhaps it does,' said Emily; 'but we must acknowledge that it is a severe satire upon those young men whose ambition leads them to seek military fame. I sincerely regret that my brother ever entered the army, for I am satisfied he possesses not the qualities necessary to make a distinguished officer; and if he did, I consider such fame as bad as self-righteousness,—the more a man has of it, the worse it is for him. It will corrupt the heart and make men unholy at the last.'

'You talk very foolish,' said her mother. 'Edwin has the power to become a very distinguished officer—that is the opinion of all our friends.'

'The opinion of friends is not to be depended on in such matters,' said Emily.

'And why not?' asked Jane-

'There is a very good reason,' answered Emily. 'Our friends very well know that mother not only believes Edwin will make a distinguished military man, but that she also particularly desires it; now, do you suppose her friends, knowing these things, would wound her feelings by giving an opinion contradictory to her own, and against her strongest wishes? No, no! Jane, you have yet to study human nature, if you believe such things. Friends, in some cases, are always hypocritical, and if they were not so, they would not long be considered friends. Let any of our friends say to mother that it was a foolish thing for Edwin to enter the army, and that he is not calculated to distinguish himself as an officer, she would be wounded, and very much disposed to strike off such from the list of her friends. Such is human nature, whether you believe it or not. If we would form a correct judgment upon any thing, we must survey the whole ground, and take all the circumstances into consideration. I am a sister of Edwin and I love him, and would do any thing for his good, but you must not conclude I am not his friend, because I express my honest opinion that he has adopted the wrong profession.'

'I have heard you talk very wise to-day, said the mother. 'But, you must remember you're young yet, and have not seen so much of the world as I have.'

'Yes, you ought to bear that in mind constantly,' said Jane. 'There's an old maxim, which says, young folks think old folks are fools, but old folks know young ones to be so. Remember that, and govern yourself accordingly.'

And Jane tossed her head, and looked as if she had made a very wise and sensible remark. Her self-complacency at that moment was very large, and she felt as if she had silenced Emily's voice. Jane was a proud girl, and ambitious to rise above others who were much her superiors in intellect. She was so proud and domineering, that she was exceedingly unpopular among her own sex, and, but for her wealth, she would have been unpopular among the gentlemen.

'There is another maxim, which says that many persons are ignorant in spite of their experience,' replied Emily.

'You don't refer to me, I trust?' said the mother, looking somewhat angry.

'I respect age, but, I shall not receive any one's opinion that does not agree with my own because it may be expressed by a person who has seen more years than I have;' replied Emily. 'True, it is my duty to weigh well the opinions of the aged, but, if I cannot see that they are founded in good sense and reason, I shall reject them, young as I am.'

'How wonderfully wise some people are?' said Jane, smiling contemptuously.

'And how exceedingly ignorant others are!' replied Emily, smiling very good-naturedly.

Miss Canfield was evidently touched, but she concealed her angry feelings as well as she could. Although Jane was very proud and domineering in her disposition, yet she always felt a consciousness that Emily was her superior in intellect as well as in personal beauty. That Emily was more beautiful than Jane, was manifestly evident to the most casual observer, but she never appeared as if she were conscious of her personal charms or ever thought of them. Had Jane possessed as many physical fascinations as Emily, she would have been vastly more haughty than she was. Her form was very far from being symmetrical, or her motions graceful. Her hair was red and rather coarse, and her eyes of a very light blue. As any one might reasonably conclude, her temperament was mercurial and her feelings easily excited. Emily, on the contrary, was very calm and collected upon all occasions. In that respect she had greatly the advantage of Jane, who had a very severe task to control her feelings.

Emily left her mother and Miss Canfield to their own reflections, and sought the company of Harriett Melville. After she had gone, Jane and the widow read over the satirical poetry and raved most bitterly against it. Never had their feelings been wrought up to such a pitch of excitement. Poor Miss Melville was berated in all sorts of style, and the mother congratulated her self that her son had abandoned such a girl.

'Why, Edwin would have been perfectly miserable if he had married such a girl,' she said. 'They are as different from each other as light is from darkness. Of all wive's in the world a gentleman ought to pray to be delivered from one who writes poetry.'

'I think so, too,' replied Jane. 'And especially such poetry as she writes. I intend to keep this paper and show it to Ed win when he comes home. He'll put something in the papers about her. She ought to be shown up in her true colors.'

'Indeed, she had,' replied the widow. 'She's a miserable slanderer, and I hate her. True, she possesses some personal beauty, and her smiles and smirks took Edwin's fancy at first, but he soon found out her real character, and quit her.'

'Now, I don't think she is half so handsome as some pretend to think she is,' said Jane. 'I think her hair and eyes are altogether too black to look well, and I never see so much beauty in her form as some persons have. Besides, I don't think she has a pretty expression in her face when she laughs. There's something in it very disagreeable to me. And when she laughs too she shows her teeth too much. And don't you think her teeth are too large?'

'Indeed, I do, but some folks think they are very beautiful,' replied the widow. 'I know they are very white and regular, but as you say, they are too large. They look like men's teeth.'

'So they do, and I would tell her so if I should see her,' said Jane. And I think her eyebrows show too plain on her forehead. They make her look too much like a painting.'

Thus they conversed, and made Harriett Melville a very ordinary looking girl.—Every beautiful feature this proud girl lacked she pretended to think Miss Melville had an excess of, or in other words, she said Harriett's eyebrows were too strongly pencilled on her forehead, because her own were scarcely visible. And the ambitious widow was hypocritical enough to confirm all her statements, whether she believed them true or not. Emily Dashford found her friend Harriett at her boarding house.

'O, I have had some fun, I can assure you,' said Emily, smiling, and shaking hands. Mother and Jane Canfield have been reading your poetry on Dandy Officers.

'Well, how did it seem to set on their stomachs?' asked Harriet. 'Did they mistrust that your brother was alluded to in the verses?'

'Indeed, they did, and gave your character a severe blacking,' replied Emily. I suppose I ought not to rejoice when other people are made unhappy, and especially, when one of those persons is my own mother, but I confess, I was wicked enough to feel pleased. Jane Canfield's checks turned all manner of colors while she was reading it to herself, and mother was in terrible suspense, and felt great curiosity to know what she was reading.'

'I'm glad Jane happened to notice it in the paper,' said Harriett. 'It is good enough for her. And as far as she is concerned, I wish it were ten times more satirical than it is. I would not, however, unnecessarily wound your mother's feelings.'

'Certainly not, but indulge the hope that a few such lessons may open mother's eyes, and assist her to see things in their true colors. She is altogether too ambitious of worldly renown, especially in relation to military fame. It seems to me, sometimes, that she has but one thought, one wish, and that is to see Edwin a distinguished military officer.'

'Mothers are often apt to overrate the capacities of their children,' said Harriett.

'I hope you don't allude to me,' said Emily, laughing. 'I'm sure she does not place a very high estimate on her daughter's intellectual capacity. But, to be serious, I sincerely regret that mother is so infatuated. I wish she could be undeceived in relation to Edwin.'

'I think she will before the war is over,' replied Harriett. 'I know Edwin is a coward. During my acquaintance with him, I had many proofs of the fact. And I was never more surprised in my life, than I was, when he first spoke to me about having a Captain's commission. At first I thought he was joking, but in a few days afterwards he showed me his commission.'

'When you saw it, I conclude you thought the country would be safe against any enemy that might invade it,' said Emily, laughing. And Harriett joined her laugh; and they were quite merry for a time.

'There,' continued Emily, assuming a more serious look. 'I suppose a sister ought not to laugh so about a brother.'

'That depends very much on how a brother behaves himself,' answered Harriett.'

'In this case, I think you are perfectly justified, for I have never known a young gentleman conduct himself so silly as Edwin did after he received his commission. How he has conducted since he entered the army, time will show. If he acquires military fame and distinction, then such acquisitions are more easily made than I supposed they were. Has he written any thing in his letter to you or mother about his corporal, Michael Quin?'

'Not a word,' replied Emily. 'His taking that fellow off with him has given me much sorrow. He knew Quin was a most arrant knave, and why he should have asked him to join his company, is more than I can tell. There seems to be some mystery hanging over the transaction. Quin is a bad fellow Even mother thinks Edwin acted quite imprudently in selecting him for one of his officers of a low grade. She dislikes to hear much said about it. I fear that he and Quin have been too familiar ever since the latter left our house, but I could never fully satisfy myself of the fact.'

'It is almost impossible to tell how badly young men of this city conduct themselves,' said Harriett. 'There are thousands of temptations surrounding them, and unless their love of virtue is strong they may yield to them. For my part I consider it quite hazardous for any young lady to connect herself with a young man who has been brought up in this city, especially if his parents are wealthy, and he has been engaged in any useful employment, nor labored for his support.'

'There is much truth in what you say,' replied Emily. 'An industrial employment is one of the best safeguards a young man can have thrown around him.'

'It is a homely adage, but nevertheless true I believe, that an idle brain is the devil's workshop,' said Harriett. 'If young men are not constantly engaged in some useful work, they are pretty sure to be plotting mischief.'

'I have been acquainted with several young men of wealthy parents who have become most miserable characters, and some of them have died drunkards even before they were hardly old enough to vote. It is strange that parents will not give their sons and daughters some useful employments, and teach them how to earn their own living in case misfortune should overtake them and compel them to eat their bread in the sweat of their face.'

'There was Colonel Rawson's son, I was acquainted with a year or two ago,' said Harriett. 'He possessed a good share of talents, was a bright scholar and a good looking young man, but he never knew the want of money, nor how hard it is to earn it by honest industry, and so became a great spendthrift, and lived as though folly and pleasure were the great objects of human life. However, his career was a short one, for he died of delirium tremens. A year before he died, he pretended to be very much in love with me, and went so far as to propose marriage, but I clearly saw the deep stains upon his moral character, and rejected all his overtures.'

"You did right,' said Emily. 'I never had acquaintance with him, but I heard of his tragical death. Thousands go the same downward road every year, and yet parents do not open their eyes to the dangers that lie in the path of their sons.'

'True, they don't seem to see them until it is too late,' replied Harriett. 'Your mother is a well meaning woman, loves Edwin, and wishes to see him shine in the world, but she mistakes his true character and flatters him in a course which I fear will lead to his ruin.'

A news-boy was now heard in the street, crying some papers containing the latest news from the army of the North. Emily purchased one, and she and Harriett perused it with a good deal of interest, for it contained an article in relation to Captain Dashford, which may be found recorded in the succeeding chapter. They were much excited, and the sister's heart was pressed down with grief. Her worst fears were more than realized.

CHAPTER XI

News from the war. Captain Dashford deserted. The great excitement of the mother, and the trouble of the lovers Tony Presses, and the completion party feelings gave the war.

Emily read in a tumultuous voice the following in a newspaper that was not friendly to the war, nor to the political party then predominant. The article was headed, 'Wonderful news from the seat of war! Desertion of American Officers! Since the battle of Lake Champlain and the retreat of the British land forces, Captain Edwin Dashford, a young officer belonging to this city who received his commission but a short time previous to his entering the Northern Army, has deserted and is nowhere to he found. Diligent search has been made for him in Plattsburgh and vicinity, but the search has been fruitless. The young Captain left his company without ceremony. The cause of his thus absenting himself is said to be his great fear of another battle. In the skirmishing on the land, while the battle was being fought on the lake, he took no part, but pretended to be sick, and totally, unable to do duty. The dandy officer named the company he was put in command of "The Invincibles," but he has absconded ed, and left the Invincibles to take care of themselves, and fight on their own hook. Our very patriotic President ought to send a nurse to take care of such officers when they are commissioned and sent on warlike excursions to Canada or elsewhere. Conjecture is very rife among the officers and soldiers in relation to Captain Dashford's whereabouts. Some imagine he has drowned himself in the lake, and others positively say he has gone home to see his marm. It is thought by our most vociferous patriots and war-hawks that Canada may yet be conquered by our gallant army, notwithstanding Captain Dashford has deserted. Whether our government will offer a large reward for the apprehension of the deserter is not yet ascertained. A rumor comes from the army, that the young Captain has been smitten with the beauty and charms of a half Indian girl, who lives with her father, near Chary Lake, but we do not vouch for the truth of that rumor. It is said also, that Michael Quin, the Captain's corporal, deserted at the same time, and cannot be found. The corporal will probably take care of the Captain, so that the friends and relatives of the latter need not be alarmed for his safety. No doubt, both of them are beyond the reach of bullets. So we go.'

'Good heavens!' exclaimed Emily, as she finished reading the above. 'Can it be possible that Edwin has deserted? Some wag may have hoaxed the editor, still I always knew my brother was a coward!'

'I think he has not drowned himself,' said Harriett. 'Such an act requires more courage than he possesses. You must not be surprised if you see him at home before many days.'

'What do you think about his being smitten with the beauty of an Indian girl?' inquired Emily. 'I suppose that is slander, and perhaps, the whole may be a fabrication.'

'If he has fallen in love with an Indian beauty, I think the act shows quite as much good taste as his falling in love with Jane Canfield,' replied Harriett, smiling. 'Without jesting or joking, I do think Miss Canfield has the least personal beauty of any young lady within the circle of my acquaintance. But I ought not to find fault with her, for what nature has done. She can't help her looks.'

'True, but she might her actions,' replied Emily. 'She makes a fool of herself especially since Edwin has become engaged to her. But what will she say when she reads this newspaper?'

'She will probably go into fits,' answered Harriett, smiling, and again running over the piece in the paper. 'She had almost forgotten that Corporal Quin had also deserted. Here's the account of it, and rather facetious it is too. The corporal will take care of the Captain! Well, that's funny.'

'Not so very funny neither,' said Emily. 'Michael Quin is a very vicious man, and I always regretted that he was in Edwin's company. I fear Edwin will come to some had end. During the last year he has been very lavish with his money, and spent enough to support me several years. He has become a great spendthrift. If he is not checked in his course of extravagance, his share of the estate will soon be gone, and then mother, I fear, would furnish him with money out of her own purse. But he shall have none of mine to squander away. A young man of wealth and expensive habits will always find a certain class of friends who are obsequious enough to do his biddings. They will hang round him and suck up his very life-blood. Corporal Quin, is just the fellow to play such a part. He'll get all the money he can out of Edwin, and will not be very particular about the means he uses to effect his purposes.'

'I never liked the looks of that fellow when he was a servant in your family,' said Harriett. 'He always appeared to feel quite above his business. If Edwin, now he has deserted, keeps Quin attached to his person, he will suffer the consequences of such imprudence. Quin would steal his money as soon as he would any thing else. His heart is corrupt enough to commit any crime in the catalogue of human offences.'

'That is just my opinion of him,' answered Emily. 'I must show this paper to mother, and let her read the article.'

'Do so contrive it as to have Jane Canfield present at the same time,' said Harriett.'

'Ah, Harriet, I perceive you are somewhat envious,' said Emily.

'I confess, I am not exempt from all woman's frailties,' replied Harriett. 'I would wish no harm to Edwin, but I no knowledge I should like to see Jane tormented a little. And if this article in the paper don't make her feel strange emotions, then she is more destitute of feelings than I have supposed she was. That part of it which alludes to the Indian beauty must have a peculiar effect upon her loving heart. When she reads it, do note the expressions of her countenance, and see if her hair don't turn more red.'

'Now, Harriett, your'e going a little too far,' said Emily.

'I would give a month's good labor with my needle to see how she acts when she reads the article,' said Harriett, laughing. 'I suppose I'm too bad, but I can't very well help it just at this time. It is all right that such a girl as Jane should he punished for her folly, and I have no doubt she will ere many moons shall have passed. I have thought of trying to write a few verses of poetry upon the folly of woman's love for military glory, and their devotion to military officers.'

'The subject is a very good one, but endeavor not to be personal,' said Emily. 'In your poem on dandy officers you did not wholly avoid personalties, but perhaps you may he excused for that when writing about gentlemen, but when our sex is the burden of your song, you must observe a little more caution.'

'Perhaps I ought,' replied Harriett. 'I will endeavor to be cautions, but I don't know as I can string together any thing which may be worthy of publication.'

Emily now departed, and while on her way home she met Jane Canfield just as she came in sight of her mother's house.

'I'm just going home,' said Jane. 'I nave paid a long visit to your mother. We have been talking the affair over, and think that Harriett Melville ought to be ashamed of herself for writing such a piece of poetry. I intend to have something published about her.'

'But what can you publish about her?' asked Emily. 'She is a very handsome, a very virtuous, and a very talented young lady. There's no lady in the city superior to her in personal beauty and mental accomplishments.'

'She's nothing but a needle-girl, and it seems strange to me that you will he so intimate with her,' said Jane. 'Your good mother sincerely regrets that you associate with her so much.'

'She's a splendid girl and most excellent company,' replied Emily. 'I have no doubt she will yet become the wife of some highly distinguished gentleman.'

'Nonsense, Emily!' exclaimed Jane. 'What distinguished gentleman would ever marry a poor needle girl?'

'Thousands, if they could see and know her,' answered Emily. 'You must know that very distinguished men very often have a pretty good share of common sense and judgment. And do you suppose such would not fancy such a beautiful, lovely and talented girl as Harriett Melville, merely because she happens not to be rich and knows how to use the needle skilfully and profitably? Allow me to say that I think you have not yet learned much of human nature, if you harbor such thoughts and opinions.'

'Your mother says you talk very foolishly,' said Jane, appearing quite angry.

'As you appear to be somewhat angry, we will drop the subject,' said Emily, taking the newspaper from her pocket that contained the news about Edwin. 'Come, Jane, go back with me, and I will let you and mother read something about Edwin.'

'Some more of that silly girl's poetry, I presume,' replied Jane, in an agitated manner.

'O, no; more news from the army, and something especially concerning Edwin,' said Emily.

'O, do let me see the paper now,' exclaimed Jane, reaching out her hand for it.

'No, not until mother has seen it,' replied Emily, putting back the paper into her pocket.

'You're not deceiving me, are you?' asked Jane.

'When did I ever deceive you or any other person?' demanded Emily, in a stern manner and a distinct voice. 'No, Jane, the news from Edwin is in this paper and Heaven knows whether it is true or not!'

'Then, why can't you let me read it now?' anxiously inquired Jane, showing much impatience intermingled with some angry feelings.

'If you desire to know what it is, go with me and you shall read it for yourself,' replied Emily, starting along, followed by Jane.

They were soon seated in the parlor, and Mrs. Dashford entered much surprised to find Jane returned in company with her daughter. Emily was taking the paper from her pocket when her mother exclaimed, 'Any news from Edwin? I know there is from your looks and actions. Do read it quick! Edwin was killed in battle, is hurt, or wounded.'

'Very far from that, dear mother,' replied Emily, holding the paper in her hand. 'From what appears in the Journal, he was in no sort of danger of British guns, but what other dangers may beset his path is not so easily conjectured. He has deserted, and fled from the army. But Jane may read.'

'Deserted!' exclaimed the almost frantic mother. 'Deserted! O, Heavens, Jane, do read and let me know the worst!'

Jane commenced reading in a loud but trembling voice. During the reading, the mother breathed hard, and when Jane came to that part of the article which referred to the young Captain's being smitten with the beauty of a half Indian girl, the paper fell from her hand, and she trembled violently.

'What is that you were reading?' asked the agitated mother. 'Half Indian girl' Do read!'

'I can't read any more now,' sobbed Jane, in broken accents. 'It is awful!'

'What is awful?' demanded the mother. 'Run and get my glasses, and let me read! Awful! What is so awful?'

'I will finish the article, mother,' said Emily, taking up the paper, and reading in a clear, distinct voice.

'O, God!' exclaimed Jane, in great agony. 'Smitten with an Indian girl. A Squaw! O, heavens! I never thought I should live to hear that! My heart will break!

And the agitated girl seemed to be in great mental distress, and wept floods of years.

'Let me see the paper!' demanded the mother, seizing the Journal and gazing upon it. 'A Tory paper! an old Federal concern! My husband always said this paper contained more lies than any Journal published in the city. It is opposed to our government, opposed to the war, and is bought up with British gold! It is all false! The editor knows it is false. Edwin deserted! It can't be! The blood of the Dashfords can never be guilty of that! The blood of he father circulates in the son's veins!'

'And does not the blood of the mother too?' asked Emily, very modestly.

'Do you think it is false!' inquired Jane, beginning to recover from her embarrassment.

'There can be no doubt of it,' replied Mrs. Dashford. 'This Tory paper lies! It always did lie! Edwin deserted! O, no, never! The thing is impossible, unless he has lost his senses by too much fatigue.'

'Perhaps the sound of the heavy cannon has made him crazy,' said Emily.

'He must, indeed, be crazy if he has fallen in love with an Indian girl. O God what a moment of trial is this!' exclaimed Jane, rising up and walking about the room in great agitation. 'O, if he has lost his senses!'

'Be calm, dear Jane,' said the widow. 'Edwin is well, and this whole article has been got up to ridicule the war. The editor is a traitor to his country, and ought to be punished severely. My dear husband always said the conductors of this paper were traitors, and Le knew all about them. Calm your nerves, and let not these false rumors trouble you.'

'I will endeavor to do so, but I have received such a shock that I shall not fully recover from it for a week,' answered Jane. 'It is shameful to publish such slanders! The editors ought to be hung. Men, who peril their all in the defence of their country's rights ought not be thus abused!'

'Indeed, they ought not,' replied the ambitious mother? 'The editors who thus slander the officers of our army will yet get their reward of infamy. The patriots of our city will not much longer tolerate such abuses. I intend to get up a petition and present it to the President for stopping the publication of these Tory prints. They are a disgrace to the nation, and our government ought not to suffer them to exist.'

'Why, mother, you talk wildly,' said Emily. 'It is the boast of our government that the Press is free, and that we have freedom of speech also. The editor of this paper has a right to his own opinions and also to express them to the people. He has always opposed the war from the beginning, believing that the disputes between this country and England could be better settled without war than with it.'

'You talk like an enemy to your country,' exclaimed the mother. 'It seems as if you had not one drop of the Dashford blood in your heart. If any thing could wake up your father's spirit from the tomb such language from his daughter would do it.'

'You know I have always been opposed to wars,' replied Emily.

'Yes, and your conversation always gave your father great pain,' said her mother. 'He often spoke of the great difference between you and Edwin. It was a sore affliction to him to hear you find fault with our government. And I think it is very silly in you to talk so much against war.'

'No more silly, I trust, for a woman to talk against war and all its bloody train of evils than to talk in favor of them,' answered Emily.

'O, if this paper has published lies about dear Edwin, I hope the office will be torn down where the paper is printed,' said Jane, snapping her eyes, and looking as if she was full of the spirit of vengeance.

'Well, suppose it should turn out that nothing but the truth has been published?' asked Emily. 'What should you say then? Would you have the Printing Office torn down in that case?'

'They hav'nt published the truth!' exclaimed the mother. 'The conductors of the paper are liars and traitors."

'A few days will show whether they have or not,' said Emily. 'Let us be patient and wait for further developments. Perhaps the war papers will yet contain the same news from the army. I trust if Edwin has deserted he will throw off his gold epaulettes and never join the army again. His desertion may yet result in good for him, but I have serious fears that he has already been long enough in the army to corrupt his heart and make him worse than he was before he entered it. We must, however, hope for the best. He may have fought bravely and will come home with military honors showered upon him, but I confess I have very serious doubts and misgivings upon the subject. Time will show.'

After saying that, Emily left the room, giving her mother and Jane an opportunity to talk the affair over between themselves, and to afford each other all the consolation in their power. As Jane said, she had indeed received a very severe shock, and Mrs. Dashford was much troubled with the account in the paper. Still she endeavored to console herself with the belief that the whole was a fabrication got up by the enemies of the war to throw ridicule upon it Mrs. Dashford was a very patriotic woman, loving her own country and hating England. She considered it quite as patriotic to hate the Britishers, as she always called them, as she did to love her own country. Her husband had instilled these notions into her head, and she could not shake them off. Next to her own country, France was her idol, and next to the infernal regions, England was her contempt. Such were some of the prominent traits in the character of Mrs. Dashford.

CHAPTER XII

A tramp in the forest. Quin lecturing the old hunter. The story of Bellows' early life. How a lie may be made to appear like the truth. Camping out.

'How much farther must we go before we reach the lake?' anxiously & inquired Captain Dashford, feeling much fatigued, and almost losing patience.

'Some four or five miles,' replied Job Bellows.

They were upon the highest ridge of land between the lakes Champlain and Chazy, and the sun had sunk behind the western mountains. Twilight had already darkened the forest, and their day's journey had been a hard and trying one. The young Captain was ready to lie down upon the ground with nothing but the azure skies for his covering, so completely exhausted was his energies. Bellows was just in good travelling trim, and could walk to the lake without inconvenience, but the Captain and Corporal Quin could go no farther that night. The sky was clear, and the weather quite pleasant. Quin complained of fatigue more bitterly than Dashford The hope of meeting his enchantress, the young Captain's courage and strength held out better than his corporal's, yet he was perfectly willing to lie down for the night. Old Bellows felt at home in the wood and took upon himself the whole command. And in a very especial manner did he order Quin about. The corporal did'nt like quite so much domineering over him. Still he bore it with as good grace as possible. He as well as Bellows was actuate' by mercenary motives. The object of both was money, and they agreed in bleeding young Dashford as much as he could bear, if they did'nt very well agree in any thing else.

'Come, corporal, fly round and use the axe right merrily,' said Bellows. 'We must erect a temporary camp before night closes around us. We read, the night cometh when no man can work.'

'I reckon ye have read but a mighty little in the good book,' replied Quin, smiling.

'They tell me you have no Sabbaths at all in these forests but hunt and fish every day alike.'

'Cross yourself, Mike, and cut down that sappling,' said Bellows. 'We must have two of 'em to stick into the ground for posts of our camp. It has a good crotch.'

Quin was rather slow in his movements when there was any work to be done. He was always a shirk and very careful not to do more than his part, to say the least of it.

'Come, don't ye see the bright track of the sun begins to fade out in the west,' continued Bellows. 'And the moon rises not until midnight. Our house must go up, or we shall have no covering but yonder skies.'

'Yes, we must have a sort of shelter at any rate,' said Dashford. 'What can I do to help in the work?'

'Pick some boughs from that young hemlock to make a bed with,' replied Bellows . 'If your legs had held out ye might have slept near the Indian beauty.'

'Not in the same lodge?' asked Dashford.

'Not when old Tomus is there,' replied Bellows, cocking his left eye, and looking wise. 'The old dog guards her night and day, and keeps off all wild varmints. He is a mighty strong Indian, with a keen eye, and a sure aim. But he can't now shoot so well as Therese can. Her sight is just about as quick as a flash of lightning. Did ye have a fair chance to look right into the depths of her sparkling eyes?'

'I did, and I feel them now in here,' replied Dashford, smiling, and placing his hand upon his breast.

'And by the powers I should love to gaze into such a pair of peepers,' said Quin. taking up the axe, and striking into the young tree.

'It is captains and not corporals that have that privilege,' said Bellows. 'There is another tree that will make a good crotch Cut that down also, and I will see what I can find for poles and covering.'

Dashford commenced picking the hemlock boughs. Quin continued chopping down the trees, and Bellows was hunting up more stuff to make the camp of. They labored quite lively, and in the course of an hour they were sitting in their new lodge and eating their evening meal.

'This is a glorious place,' said Bellows, swallowing his last mouthful, and lighting his pipe. 'The air is better here than in the city where there are so many stinking breaths. A man will have an appetite in the woods, and his coarse food will relish better than the most dainty luxuries in the city.'

'Then you have been in the city, have you?' asked Dashford.

'Been in the city!' repeated the old hunter, 'I was born there and lived there until I was out of my teens.'

'And why did you leave the city and live alone in the forest?' inquired Dashford.

'There's considerable of a tail to that kite,' replied Bellows. 'But it is all past now.'

'What has all passed?' asked the Corporal, beginning to feel some interest to know the history of the old hunter's life.

'Men always have some reasons for their coarse of life,' replied Bellows. And love matters have more to do in shaping one's destiny than we are generally willing to acknowledge.'

'I belave that upon my soul,' said the corporal.

'Why, you were never in love were you?' inquired Dashford.

'And why not?' demanded Quin. 'The Irish have the most tender hearts in the world.'

'And the ugliest tempers,' rejoined Bellows, laughing at his own wit.

'And ye may well say that when a son of Erin is insulted, or when they attempt to stale his liberty from him,' replied Quin.

'The corporal always sticks to his own countrymen,' said Dashford.' 'But give us a few pages in the history of your love affairs. My curiosity is excited since you say you were porn its the city.'

'You would like to hear some of my boyish freaks,' said Bellows, taking the pipe from his mouth and clearing his throat.

'Indeed, I should,' replied Dashford, gazing into the old liar's weather-beaten face.

'Well, Captain, I will give ye a few leaves in my life's book. Rough as I look now, I can assure you I was once a genteel, spruce young man, and the ladies used to love me dearly.'

'By St. Patrick, ye must have changed amazingly then,' said Quin, laughing.

'A life in the wood has changed my looks, but when I was a young man, I could make a hundred pretty gals love me where you could'nt make one,' replied the old man knocking the ashes from his pipe, and preparing to reload it.

'Go on with your story, and don't mind the corporal's interruptions,' said Dashford, manifesting some impatience.

'Well, Captain, I think I was once a full match for you among the gals, and you are no fool, else my eyes deceive me,' replied Bellows, looking very wise. At one time I had more than twenty handsome girls after me, but after I selected one, the rest dropped off one by one. Ah, Captain, the gal I fell in love with, was a beauty without paint. Her mother was dead and her father was rich and tyrannical as the Old One himself. My parents were hardly equal to hers in point of standing and wealth. Her father was a rich merchant, and mine was an auctioneer, and not the owner of much real estate. Besides, her father was a member of an orthodox Church, and stiff as a poker. Now there was'nt much religion in our family, consequently, I was not a very pious youth.'

'And faith, ye may well say that same thing,' said Quin, laughing.

'No interruptions, corporal,' said Bellows. 'The old orthodox father got wind that I and his daughter were on very intimate terms, although he never saw me at his house. My courting was done very slyly, I can assure you. O, the gal loved me, and I can now feel her kisses on my lips! The cruel old father shut up the beautiful Emma, and cut off all communication between us. I sometimes saw her at her chamber window is I passed, when she would kiss her hand and lay it on her bosom. Gracious God, low I used to fee' on such occasions!'

'And ye think she was handsome as a picter, do ye?' asked Quin.

'Handsome as a picter!' repeated the old hunter. 'Why, she was the handsomest gal I ever laid eyes on; that is, a perfectly white gal. Some might like a rich, dark color better. This half Indian gal we are going to see comes next to her. And perhaps some might consider the dark beauty the finest looking. That's a mere matter of taste.'

'I fancy a brunette the most,' said Dashford.

'I suppose such beauty will wear the best,' replied Bellows. But, as I was saying, I sometime saw my beloved Emma at her window. And once just as twilight set in I saw and spoke with her, urging her to make her escape and meet me at a certain place in the city. She said she would, and named the day and hour when she thought she might escape from her cruel father. The time came, and O, what emotions filled my heart! Punctual at the time, she met me at the place appointed. And such a meeting! But I will not attempt to describe it, for those who love can imagine our feelings, and those who never did love could not understand any description that might be given. We met, kissed each other, and swore eternal love. It was just in the edge of the evening, and we had no time to spare. Crossing the Hudson river, we passed on through Jersey city, and gave no rest to the soles of our feet, until the clocks told the midnight hour. My Emma grew much fatigued. I sat down by the roadside and pillowed her head on my bosom! Her dark blue eyes looked up, and O, how heavenly was the light in them! She looked to me as her sole protector, and I silently swore before the bright stars that I would protect her with my last breath. But, alas! the evening was still and damp, and the midnight air too severe for her delicate frame. She was cold, and I wound a shawl about her person. She fell into a gentle sleep and breathed softly as an infant. Soon she began to dream, and said in her sleep: 'O father, don't keep me fastened up in this chamber away from him I love more than all earthly things! 'Thank heaven,' I mentally ex claimed, 'the walls of that cursed chamber does not confine thy lovely person. Thy head is pillowed on his breast who will never forsake the while life remains!'

She slept but a short time, for her troublesome dreams awoke her, and she threw her arms about my neck in a convulsive grasp. The midnight air had chilled her, and she trembled with the cold. We rose and passed on. The houses were few, and we were afraid to call and disturb any one at that time of night. But she could travel no farther, and I knocked at the door of a small farm house. An old lady came to the door and appeared to be somewhat alarmed. I frankly told her that we were running away from cruel parents who had forbidden us to see each other. Emma also confirmed what I said in a voice tremulous and full of feeling. The heart of the old lady was touched with sympathy, for she had been thus used by her parents in her girlhood. Her husband was older than she was and deaf as a post. We entered the house, and soon a fire was blazing upon the hearth, and Emma warmed herself, but she had been so much chilled that she yet trembled with the effects of the cold. The old man arose and came into the room and gazed wildly upon us. His wife continued to inform him of our peculiar situation. A sympathetic chord was also touched in his heart, for he was her first lover, and they were in their early years married against the consent of their parents. Luckily we had fallen into good hands. I had some money, enough to carry us far away from the city. The old lady made some herb tea and gave it to Emma. It seemed to warm and cheer her up, still she was far from being well. The damp midnight air had seriously effected her. The old lady advised her to go to bed. She did so, but alas! the morning sun shone upon her flushed cheeks. A fever had seized upon her delicate frame, and we could not proceed on our journey. It was indeed a sad misfortune to us! I hurried after a physician. He came and ministered to her, but before the day expired, she became delirious! Again the physician came, and frankly told me he considered her case a very dangerous one. The fever raged that night, and she was much deranged. The next day she was no better. In her lucid intervals she expressed strong wishes to see her father, but I told her she would be better in a day or two, and endeavored to quiet her nerves. She grew worse, and the physician not only demanded his fees, but also catechized me most severely, until I was compelled to divulge the whole secret to him. He knew her father by reputation, and insisted that word should be sent to him respecting his daughter. I implored him not to send, but he was inexorable and stiff as Emma's father. He said the girl might not live six hours, for her case was almost a hopeless one. I put him off a few hours, promising to write myself. She grew worse and I did write, confessing my own errors, and informing him of his daughter's sickness. The physician read the letter and put it into the post office himself, for he would not trust me. O, God! I tremble when I think of that scene! Emma grew worse, and the doctor said she might die ere my letter reached her father. O, she was terribly delirious, and would not suffer me to remain at the bedside. She seemed then to both hate and fear me. It is often so with those deranged The physician was constantly by her side, and the old lady was all attention. Hours flew swiftly away, and the patient sank away. All hope of her recovery was gone. She ceased to rave, and fell into a kind of lethargy. I stood holding her hand and feeling her pulse, but she seemed not to notice me or any earthly object. I was glad to see her so quiet because I could be by her side. To cut the story short, that beautiful girl died a few minutes before her father drove up to the door. I pressed her cold lips, fled out of the back-door to avoid the father, struck for the forests, became fond of wild sports, and here I sit an old hunter, but I never shall forget that beautiful girl.'

The old hunter here finished his narrative. Although the story was a lie from beginning to end, yet it was told in such a manner as to deceive both the Captain and the corporal. They believed every word of it, and Bellows laughed in his sleeve.

'That was more terrible than war,' said Dashford, casting his eyes upon the ground, and looking serious and thoughtful.

'Don't be sorrowful, Captain,' said Bellows. 'Midnight air would'nt throw an Indian beauty into a fever. She can stand any kind of weather and yet she looks as delicate as a city belle.'

'I was thinking about my deserting the army,' said Dashford. 'Suppose they should send a file of men after us!'

'Their luck would be not to find us.' replied plied Bellows. 'Their soldiers don't know enough to follow a trail. If they should attempt to follow us they would get lost, and perhaps starve to death. No, no, Captain, they can t find us. We are a good many miles into the wilderness.'

'Don't they shoot deserters?' asked the trembling young Captain, still fearing it might yet be his fate to be shot.

'Sometimes when they can catch 'em,' replied Bellows. 'But never fear. You can't he taken while Job Bellows is your guide in the forests. And if you should be taken, you would'nt be shot. They don't shoot captains and higher officers, they only shoot corporals and common soldiers.'

'Shoot corporals, do they?' asked Quin. 'They must be alter catching 'em first. I feel no fears at all at all.'

'I'm glad to find an Irishman to full of courage,' said Bellows.

'Faith, an Irishman!' repeated the corporal. 'And did ye iver see an son of auld Ireland who was'nt full of courage as an egg is full of meat. By all the Holy Saints, an Irishman always dies game. Ye may beat and bruise him and confine him in a prison-house, but ye can't make him a coward at all. Do ye mind that now.'

'I suppose I could whip half a dozen Paddies any day,' said Bellows, laughing.

'And faith, ye had better try a single one,' replied Quin, rising up, and flourishing his arms in perfect good nature. 'I will take ye any way, and if I don't throw you, then I will acknowledge you're the stoutest man, but it can never be said that Michael Quin is a coward. No, no, old hunter, call me any thing but a coward.'

'I guess we won't try to-night, for I'm afraid if I should wrestle with you, that I might throw you so hard as to prevent your travelling to-morrow. It is high time to take our rest now. We must start early in the morning and behold the beauty of the forest flower in the light of the morning sun.'

They now camped down and sought that rest they so much needed. Although Dashford was much more fatigued than the others, yet he did not fall asleep until after midnight. He still feared he might be pursued, overtaken and carried back to the army again. Finally, he became drowsy, and dreamed such dreams as roused him from his slumbers; at last however, he slept soundly The night was still and pleasant, and silence reigned in the forest.

CHAPTER XIII

A lecture on yawning. The old hunter's description of an Indian girl. The journey to the lake. The beauty of the scenery. The bathing scene.

'COME, boys, rouse up, for day-light streaks the east.' said Bellows. 'The morning is fine and betokens a goodly day. Two hours will carry us to the lake. I dare say the lovely Therese is now at the lake, killing the big trout and breathing the pure air. She's one of the earliest birds in the forest, and such you know always catch the worm. I wish you could see her, Captain, manage one of those big trout. No angler in Christendom can hold a candle to her in killing trout or shooting deer.'

'O, I must see her shoot at a mark with the beautiful gun I gave her,' said Dashford, rising up and rubbing his eyes.

'We'll have some sport if old Tomus happens to be in good humor, and if he ain't, we must make the best of it,' said Bellows.

The corporal now rose up and yawned several times much to the annoyance of the old hunter. He could'nt bear to see or hear a man yawn.

'Don't for God's sake gape so and make such a noise!' continued Bellows. 'If any thing I hate in the woods, it is yawning and snoring.'

'I did'nt snore last night, did I?' asked Quin.

'I did'nt sit up to hear,' replied Bellows, laughing. 'But no doubt you did, for a man that yawns in the morning generally has snored through the night. Come, let us take a bite of beef and bread and be off. I want a meal of the lake trout.'

'Are there a good many trout in that lake?' asked the young Captain.

'Oceans of 'em, and some big ones too,' answered Bellows.

'By the powers I wish I had one fried now,' said the corporal, combing out his long black hair, and examining himself in a small pocket mirror he always carried with him. The corporal was a proud fellow and fancied himself very good looking.

'What do you wear your hair so long for?' asked Bellows. So far as hair goes yours might pass very well for an Indian. 'You ought to have brought a pair of sheep shears with you to keep yourself trimmed up. Who knows but you may see a handsome Indian gal? Millinok who lives upon the western side of the lake has a daughter whom you may fancy. She's a wild one, but she can speak some English.

'Full blooded Indian I suppose,' said Quin, smiling, and parting his hair on his forehead.

'I reckon you would think so if you should see her or her father and mother,' replied Bellows. Her cheek-bones are rather high, but her form is most beautiful. She is as straight as an arrow and fleet as a deer. Why, corporal, she could run two rods to your one, and jump over your head into the bargain.'

By St. Patrick, I should like to be after taking a race with her,' said Quin.

'Ah, Captain, she looks ten times better in the forest than she does in the settlements,' said Bellows. 'But dress her up in fine silk, and she'll take the fly off anything in the city.'

'She shall have any dresses she may like,' said the young officer.

'But what will the red-haired heiress say?' asked the corporal, smiling.

'She mus'nt know it,' said Dashford; 'nor either mother or sister.'

'You must look out for breakers, if you marry a gal with red hair,' said Bellows, laughing.

'Can Therese run fast too?' asked Dashford.

'Swift, very swift,' replied Bellows. 'And she runs handsome too; now sprawling about, but motions as graceful as your city dancing masters. But I trust she will not run away from you.'

'Let the Captain give her his gold watch, and I dare say she will not be after running away from him!' said the corporal.

'She shall have both watch and chain,' said Dashford, 'if she looks as beautiful now as she did at first.'

They had now finished a hasty morning meal and commenced their journey. The morning was bright and beautiful, and they felt in good spirits.

'We shall soon come in sight of the bright waters of the lake,' said Bellows. 'It is downhill almost every rod of the way to the lake.'

'And faith, I should think it ought to be for we were after doing nothing yesterday but go uphill all day,' said the corporal.

'See!' exclaimed Dashford. 'What is that, running with such speed through the wood?'

'A noble buck, but I can't reach him, said Bellows, instantly bringing his old gun to his jaw, and then dropping it. 'He's too far off, and runs too swift.'

They hoped on, through groves of fire, spruce, and hardwood. After travelling about three miles, they came to a brook whose chrystal waters were very grateful to them, for they were thirsty.

'Two miles more and we shall see the lake, and the smoke of Tomus' lodge,' said Bellows. 'Brace up your nerves, and prepare to meet the handsomest gal, that ever walked upon this earth, or breathed this air. If you don't look out and guard yourself, Captain, when she opens her eyes upon ye, there will be a strange feeling in your heart, and ye may think lightning has struck ye.'

'And would'nt that be an aisy death to die, to be killed by lightning?' asked Quin, laughing.

'If Millinok's daughter should strike ye, corporal, ye would think a horse had kicked ye,' said Bellows.

'Then by my faith, I'll just be after keeping out of her reach,' replied Quin.

They continued to descend towards the lake. Dashford strained his eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the lake, or of the smoke of Tomus' lodge, for Bellows told him they were fast nearing the spot they so much desired to see. The Captain was much excited; and Quin liked the sport well, for he was well paid for his services, and expected to receive a hand some present when they returned from the forest and sought the city. They now passed into a small ravine; and when they came up upon the other side, glimpses of the lake were visible through the thick trees.

'Stop,' said Bellows, as they reached more elevated ground, clapping his hand upon Dashford's shoulder, and pointing. 'Do you see that?'

'As sure as St. Patrick is in heaven, I see glimpses of bright water,' said Quin.

'And I see them too,' rejoined Dashford.

'That's the lake and no mistake,' said Bellows. 'I have piloted a pretty straight coarse. An Indian could'nt have done better.'

'Where is the lodge of Tomus?' anxiously inquired Dashford.

'It is round further to the southwest,' replied the old hunter. 'We shall strike the lake some fifty rods southeast from the lodge. We shall just come to a beautiful little bay with a sandy beach.'

'Think we shall find Tomus and his daughter?' asked the young Captain.

'Very probable,' answered Bellows.

'They had now approached within a few miles of the lake, and Dashford was much excited. The object of his most romantic affections was near at hand, and he was seriously reflecting in what manner to conduct himself when first asked into her presence and that of her father. It was one of the most exciting periods of his life. A splashing in the water was now heard.

'Hush!' whispered Bellows, examining his priming to see if his gun was ready for action.

'What is it?' asked Dashford, feeling the blood curdle in his veins, and fearing some wild beast might be disporting himself in the water.

'A deer, perhaps,' replied Bellows, peering through a clump of small trees behind which they stood, and trying to discover the object of their surprise.

'An angel, mermaid or some other beautiful creature!' whispered Quin, being sharper sighted than the other at that moment, and discovered what disturbed the water.

'Gracious heavens!' said Bellows. 'Stand perfectly still! Don't disturb her!'

'Disturb whom, what?' asked Dashford, in breathless anxiety.

'The beautiful Therese in a swimming,' answered Bellows, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, and parting the bushes before him so as to have a better view.

'By all the saints on earth, and in heaven!' said the corporal. 'It is a live woman, and she swims like a duck! What beauteous limbs and graceful form. See her long, dark hair floating on the water!'

'Hush!' said Bellows. 'Make not a breath of noise! Here, Captain, is a place you can see through By heavens, she dives like an otter! Now she comes up and shakes her lovely head.'

'O my God what long beautiful hair! said the excited Captain. 'Now she dives again!'

'By the powers how it shines in the beams of the morning sun!' said Quin.

'There are no sharks in the lake, are there?' anxiously inquired Dashford.

'O, no, nothing but beautiful trout, and they won't bite her,' replied Bellows, smiling. 'They keep off at a respectful distance and gaze upon her beauteous form, just as we do.'

'O, Venus!' said the corporal, making the place larger through which he was looking. 'Now she plunges in again. and the water closes over her!'

'Speak lower!' whispered Bellows. She may hear us. Now she breaks water! The water is not over her head, for now she stands up, and her hair floats behind her What a picter!'

'Ye may well say that!' replied Quin. 'See! how she flings her hair over her head and shoulders! It almost covers her up!'

'There, she dives again!' said Dashford. 'No danger of her drowning is there?'

'About as much danger as there is of a trouts drowning, replied Bellows.

'Drown her!' repeated the corporal. 'Now she comes up again and strikes up the lake. How smoothly she swims!'

'And swiftly too,' replied Bellows. 'She is making for the lodge which stands on the shore above us. Now she swims round that point of land, and we shan't see her again unless she comes back.'

'Faith, and may be she discovered us,' said Quin.

'I think not,' replied Bellows, leading the way to the water's edge, followed by the others.

'O, what a beautiful beach and bright waters!' exclaimed the young Captain.

'See her,' replied Bellows; pointing to the smooth sand under their feet. 'She came ashore here before we arrived. See her beautiful foot-prints in the sand.'

Dashford stooped down and placed his hand upon one of her tracks, and appeared much excited. His feelings were evidently wrought up to the highest pitch of romance.

'Can ye feel any sensation in the beautiful tracks?' asked Bellows, laughing. 'Did ye ever see such a handsome foot print? Tain't so big as a snow-shoe, is it? Ah, my young man; she has a most perfect form, yes, perfect fect as an angel's. There am't a gal in the city can make so handsome a foot print as that your hand just covered. Is'nt it more agreeable to be near such a beautiful, lovely creature than to stand up and be fired at by he Britishers?'

'I think so,' replied Dashford, feeling rejoiced that he had escaped the guns of the red-coats.

'By Jehosaphat!' exclaimed Bellows.—'Here's two foot prints deep in the sand. It is where she stood when she leaped into the water! I dare say she sprang more than ten feet before she struck the water.'

'I wish I could have seen that leap,' said Dashford, stooping down and examining the foot prints very minutely.

'See, she comes back round the point again!' said Bellows, running to his hiding place, followed by the captain and corporal.

Unfortunately she saw them, and wheeled back and passed from their sight, very much to their regret.

'She saw us, and will not return,' said Bellows.

'By the powers, I am after being sorry for that,' replied the corporal.

They now passed out to the beach again, standing and gazing upon the lake and the magnificent hills, or rather mountains, that surrounded it. The sky was clear, and a gentle morning breeze rippled the surface of the lake. A range of mountains rose up near the lake, forming a beautiful outline upon the azure skies, and elevating their thoughts and feelings. A dense forest of trees covered them quite to their summits and adding much to the beauty of the scene. It was a wild romantic spot—one which the lover of Nature could not but admire; but young Dashford was so much taken up with the beautiful Therese, that he could scarcely find room for thoughts about any thing else. He was anxious to convey her to the city, but whether he intended to make her his legal wife or not, may appear in subsequent pages. Bellows expressed serious doubts whether Tomus would consent to any such arrangement. He was the master-spirit of the enterprize, and every thing depended upon him.

'Do you think Tomus will consent to let me take his daughter to the city?' asked Dashford.

Tha's very doubtful,' replied Bellows 'We must not intimate such a thing to him, until we find how his humor lies. And perhaps it will not be good policy even to hint it to him, least we place him on his guard. There's policy in managing women as well as men. Don't let me hear either of you open your heads in the hearing of Tomus, in relation to the object we came here for. You may talk about any thing else, but not about that. And you, corporal, must keep your blarney to yourself. We have a prize to win, and let us manage cautiously and adroitly. Indian cunning we shall have to contend against, and that's no trifle I can assure ye. Tomus is a shrewd Indian, and loves his daughter as any white man does his.'

'We will keep silent, and let you manage,' said Dashford. That Indian beauty I must have. I must show her to some of my friends.'

'Ye'll not be after showing her to Miss Canfield, I trust,' said the corporal.

'No, no, nor to my mother or sister,' replied Dashford. You knew what I said before we started for this place. Money is no object; I have given you all I could spare, but when we arrive in the city with our prize, you shall be most generously rewarded.'

True, as he said, he had given Bushrod a handsome sum, and made Quin a generous present. These mercenary fellows were at this work for money. Quin knew that Dashford's father left a valuable estate, and Bellows had learned the fact from the corporal.

'We'll not go immediately to the lodge, but tarry here awhile, until Therese is prepared to receive us,' said Bellows.

They sat down upon a fallen tree, and remained there some time. Having partaken of a slight breakfast, and the morning being somewhat advanced, they concluded to take a lunch before repairing to the lodge. Bellows remarked that the young Captain must eat and strengthen himself for the approaching scene, for the beauty of Therese was such that no young man could well meet it upon an empty stomach.

We leave them engaged in supplying their physical wants

CHAPTER XIV

Tomus and his daughter. An Indian's advice, and jealousy of the pale faces. The meeting, and the results. The Indian Beauty not yet won. Gloomy prospects.

'O, father, I saw three pale faces standing on the beach, when I swam round the point,' and Therese, as she came running into the lodge, after coming out of the water, and hurriedly dressing herself.

'Three pale faces!' repeated Tomus. 'Did they discover you?'

'They might, for they ran back, and hid themselves behind some trees.' she replied.

'I understand,' he answered, and gazing thoughtfully upon the skeleton of a birch canoe before him, which he was at the time engaged in building. 'They hoped to conceal themselves from your sight and see you swim, I'm glad you discovered them. Did you know either of them?'

'I thought one of them looked like old Bellows,' she replied. 'But they ran from the beach so quick that I could'nt tell.'

'Old Bellows!' said he. 'He's a great villain, and steals furs from the Indians. Perhaps he is on a hunting expedition. I must observe him.'

'I thought one of them appeared like the man who gave me my beautiful gun,' she said.

'Ah, may be so,' he answered. 'You must'nt receive any more presents from him.'

'And why not, father?' she asked. 'Perhaps he will give me a beautiful fishing rod.'

'If he does, you must not take it, for the next thing will be, perhaps, he may be anxious to take you,' he said. 'And you would'nt leave your father here alone and go away with a pale face, would you?'

'O, no, father, I will never leave you,' she replied. 'I love only you. The pale faces you say are enemies to the red man, but they may not be so wicked as you imagine them to be.'

'They can talk smooth, but they have stolen the red man's hunting ground, and would drive him back to the great ocean,' said Tomus. 'You must take nothing the pale face may offer you. Believe him not when he says you are beautiful. He will lie, and try to flatter you.'

'But, mother was a pale face, and she never told lies,' she said, anxiously, looking into her father's face.

'True, my child, she never told lies, but pale faces lied to her, and deceived her. If they had not, she would never have lived with me, and given birth to you.'

Therese was greatly surprised, for her father had never told her so much before She catechized him, and endeavored to ascertain more of her mother's early history, but he forbore to go into particulars, and promised to tell her more at some future time. She knew enough of her father not to press an inquiry after be had refused to answer her. Never was a child more obedient to a father's will, than she was. Just back of their lodge, upon a bill-side among a grove of spruce and maple trees was the grave of Therese Corneille, the mother of this girl, and once the wife of Tomus, according to Indian custom and usage. Therese took the name of her mother, for thus she was called in infancy by her who gave her birth. Tomus had already hinted why she became his wife and the mother of his daughter; but this is not the place in which to record more fully the details of her history. The grave was on a lovely and romantic spot, and entirely shaded by large trees. There was nothing to mark the place except a canoe paddle, which the woman made herself, and used often upon the lake in her life-time. This paddle was stuck up in the middle of the mound, which covered the earthly remains of this strange woman. In the summer season Therese cultivated wild flowers upon her mother's grave, but a few only flourished as the ground was so much shaded by the trees. Tomus would not cut down one on any consideration, for he desired the grave to look as it did when he and his wife were accustomed to sit under the trees and converse upon the incidents of their lives.

Tomus busied himself again in constructing his canoe, while Therese looked on and endeavored to learn the art. She had constructed a small one, and made it well. As he put the different parts together; he instructed her in regard to their uses, and why they were of such a form and put in such places.

'O, father,' she said. 'This will be the neatest canoe you ever made, the bark is so smooth, and the pieces are so nicely whittled.'

'I intend to make it so,' he replied. 'And when I'm dead and buried beside your mother, you will have something to remember me by.'

'I have many things to remember you by row,' she replied, 'But I hope you will not lie before I do.'

'I may not, but the Great Spirit knows,' he said; looking sober and serious.

He was a thoughtful and provident Indian, and occasionally indulged in some gloomy apprehensions of the future so far as Therese was concerned. It often occurred to him what might be the condition of his daughter in case he should die and she be left alone. But he consoled himself that he had taught her all the rude arts of the Indian life, and prepared her, in some good degree, for that event should it ever happen.

While the Indian and his daughter were thus engaged, Bellows and his companions were on their way to the lodge.

'I see the smoke of the old Indian lodge,' said Bellows, stopping and pointing.

'I now see it too,' replied Dashford, much excited. 'Suppose we find her alone, and her father gone? Would'nt she run away from us?'

'O, no; Therese is no coward, and besides, she knows me,' said Bellows.

'Her knowing you may be the best reason in the world for her running away,' said the corporal, laughing.

'Come, corporal, none of your blarney, if ye please,' said Bellows. 'We must conduct ourselves prudently and adroitly, if we would obtain the prize.'

'O, yes, corporal; let us keep our jokes until we get out of the woods,' said Dashford.

'I'll be after keeping quiet when we come into the presence of the angel and her father,' was the reply of the corporal.

'Thirty rods more and we shall see,' said Bellows, leading on.

'And faith, we can do that same, and stop right here,' said Quin.

'There ye go again with yer Irish blabber,' replied Bellows.

Slowly and cautiously they proceeded on. Dashford was much agitated, but why he was so affected he could nt tell. Previous to that time he had always been courageous enough among the ladies, but he had thought so much about the Indian girl and there was so much romance in the enterprise that he could not help trembling when he was so near its object.

'Can you see the lodge yet?' asked Dashford, addressing Bellows, who was before him.

'Halt!' commanded the old hunter.—'Come here, Captain, and look yonder between those large sugar maples, and you'll see the finest picter on earth.'

Dashford was not long in complying with that request, and the corporal was close at his heels. They saw Tomus busily at work on his unfinished canoe, and Therese standing near him, ready to wait upon him and to hand him whatever he might want.

'Don't she look slick as an offer?' asked Bellows, smiling. 'There's sweetness in those lips more delicious than maple-sugar.'

'Heavens, I saw her look this way!' said Dashford, much agitated.

'Perhaps you have a loadstone about you that draws her,' said Bellows. 'It may be, however, she heard us; for her ears are quick as a rabbit's, catching the least sound.'

The last conjecture was right for she did hear them and told her father, who stopped his work and looked in the same direction. They passed on, and soon stood in the presence of Tomus and his lovely daughter. It was an anxious moment for the young Captain. A second view of her symmetrical form and beautiful face, convinced him that he had not over estimated her charms. His anticipations were more than realized. She looked ten times more beautiful than she did when he so freely gave her his gun. Tomus looked at them a moment, and then busied himself again on his work.

'Making a new canoe,' said Bellows.—'And a fine one it is too.'

The monosyllable 'Yes,' was all the reply the Indian made, and he continued his labor.

'Killed any trout in the lake recently?' asked Bellows, addressing Therese.

She smiled, and ran into the lodge. Soon she came out, bearing two very large trout.

'By the powers, they are lusty fellows,' said Quin, who was very fond of angling 'They are almost as big as I have killed in auld Ireland.'

'I have killed larger ones than these,' said Therese. 'But these are good ones.'

'Indade, they are fine trout,' answered Quin, seeming to monopolize the conversation.

'Have you killed any thing with your gun?' asked Dashford, in a trembling voice.

'O, yes, one wolf, and several partridges,' she replied.

'And no deer?' asked Bellows.

'I could have shot one last night, but father thought a was not best, as we did not want him, she answered. 'It is a beautiful gun, and sure, and I'm much obliged to the gentleman for the gift.'

'If it had been all gold he would have given it to you,' said Bellows.

'Guns are not made of gold,' said Tomus, as he fastened a cedar slat upon his boat.

'True, but I meant to intimate that Captain Dashford is a generous man,' replied Bellows. 'He has money enough, and loves to give it to beautiful gals.'

'Then let him give it to the pale faces,' said Tomus 'They like it better than Indians.'

The remark of Tomus was a damper on the feelings of the young American officer, and convinced Bellows that no persuasion could induce him to let Dashford take his daughter to the city. In fact, the old hunter never had much hope on that point, still he was not positively certain. However, he thought he would put out some feelers, and by the old Indian. The more Dashford gazed upon the lovely Therese, the better he loved her, and the more charms he discovered in her. It seemed to him, that she was perfection itself, and he could not see in her a single fault or blemish. Her teeth were white as pearl, and her hair shone like the raven's wing. Her form was all symmetry, and her eyes sparkled with heaven's own light. The young man was perfectly enchanted, and stood spell-bound before her. All his dreams of beautiful women and of angels were fully realized. Bellows noticed the effect of her beauty upon him, and feared he might commit some indiscretion.

'Indians love money too,' said Bellows, assuming a smiling countenance.

'Then they will catch furs, and buy it,' replied Tomus, still working on his canoe, and appearing somewhat indifferent, much more so than he really was. Dashford wanted to say something to Therese, but his heart was too full for utterance. Quin's tongue was much more at liberty than his companion's, and he took occasion to use it more freely than Bellows thought prudent, under existing circumstances.

'I used to be a great angler in swate Ireland,' said Quin. 'I have killed many a salmon with the fly. That's sport indade.

'I have seen salmon killed in the great lake, but never caught any,' replied Therese

'If ye should hook one, by the powers, he would give ye fine sport,' said Quin. I have had them fly an hour before they would give up.'

'Salmon are not caught with hooks here,' said Bellows. 'And if they were, ye would'nt be a priming to Therese in killing 'em.'

'That's just what I think,' said Dashford, mustering courage to speak, and gazing fondly upon the bright face of Therese.

'Flattery!' grumbled Tomus. 'The pale faces know how to flatter, but the red man can't be deceived.'

'O, I only spoke what I thought,' said Dashford, in trembling tones.

'The pale faces have strange thoughts sometimes,' replied the Indian. 'They come too far back into the forest, and drive the red man from his hunting grounds.'

'I always thought the Indians have been ill-treated,' said Dashford, feeling much inclined to please Tomus.

'Then why do you fight them?' asked Tomus. 'You're an officer in the American army.'

'Not now, for I have quit the army, forever,' replied Dashford.

'And why have you quit the army?' inquired the wily Indian.

That question embarrassed the young man, and threw him off his guard. He was exceedingly troubled for an answer, and Bellows noticed it, and came to his help.

'My young friend here, left the army, and has come into the wilderness, to hunt and learn how the red man lives,' said Bellows. 'He is resolved to inquire into the condition of the Indians, and to investigate their rights, and then go home and advocate them.'

'He'll have but little power among so many pale faces who want all the lands, trees, rivers, and lakes,' replied Tomus.

'And perhaps, ye don't know how much money he has,' said Quin, thinking it was about time for him to put in his oar.

Money makes a gentleman, the like of him strong and powerful. Gold has a world of power in itself.

'And for that very reason the pale faces want all this timber you see around us to buy gold with,' said Tomus. 'The white man loves gold more than justice.'

'Some do, but our young friend is not after doing any such thing,' replied the corporal.

'He may be a very good man, and a friend to the Indians, but his brethren are many, and will not mind what he says,' answered Tomus, continuing his work on his canoe, as if he thought that of more consequence than any thing they could say.

There was now quite a pause in the conversation. Tomus was not inclined to say much, and the others hardly knew what to say. They found him watchful and cautions, and not half so credulous as they hoped to find him. Bellows had already uttered several lies, but they did not have the desired effect upon Tomus. Bellows was shrewd, and a good judge of the expressions of an Indian's countenance. Tomus kept busily at work on his canoe, and Dashford continually gazed upon Therese with that romantic feeling peculiar to himself. The corporal admired her beauty, and took a position nearer to her than Dashford did. Quin was rather too officious on all occasions. He too, possessed a romantic turn of mind, and sometimes wished the young Captain was out of the way that he might be more familiar with the Indian beauty. Dashford was not very well pleased with his corporal's looks and actions on the occasion, and even began to feel a few touches of jealousy towards him. He liked the appearance and management of the old hunter much better. Bellows because fully convinced that no power of persuasion could induce him to part with his daughter. Riches had no charms for him, and he was not troubled with that pride and ambition which so much influence and control civilized society. The another of Therese had given him no very favorable impressions of civilized life, for she was compelled to flee from us oppressions and cruelties and seek happiness in a forest life.

'I've been thinking that Therese and our young friend should try their skill in shooting at a mark,' said Bellows. 'I should like to see the sport, but I think he would be beaten.'

'That would be fun,' said the corporal, 'The captain is a great shot, and has a very fine gun as you perceive.'

'I will try,' said Dashford, holding up his gun, which was even a mere beautiful one than he gave Therese.

'O, that is a beautiful gun!' exclaimed Therese, taking it from the Captain and bringing it up to her face.

'I purchased it of an officer since I give you the one I had,' said Dashford. 'If you like it better than yours I will exchange with you.'

'It is more beautiful than mine,' she said, examining every part of it very minutely, and then handing it to her father for his inspection.

'It is very finely finished, but the most beautiful guns are not always the best,' said Tomus, handing it to the owner.

'You may try it,' said Dashford. 'I think you'll find it as good as it looks.'

'No,' said Tomus, shaking his head. 'Keep it, and you may have the one you gave her.'

'O, no; I would not take it back for the world,' said Dashford. 'I never regret when I make presents, I will give you this and then you may exchange with your daughter, if you please and she desires it.'

'No,' was the laconic reply of the Indian 'I have a good gun, one that I have used many winters, I don't want another.'

Dashford was vexed at the indifference of Tomus when he offered to give him such a splendid weapon, but he concealed his troubled feelings, and said he would try his skill in shooting with Therese, of she and her father were willing.

'No,' was again the reply of the Indian. And the monosyllable was uttered in such a manner that Bellows knew the anticipated sport could not go on. Bellows was provoked, but he managed to conceal his excited feelings and appeared quite calm.—Quin attempted to speak and urge Tomus his consent to the fun, but Bellows checked him. They remained there but a few minute longer, for Tomus grew more and more moody and unsocial.

You're willing that we should hunt and fish here,' said Bellows.

'On the other side of the lake,' replied Tomus. 'It is not far round.'

'Then we'll go there,' said Bellows, leading off, and followed by his companions.

'He's a close man that old rascal,' said Quin, after they had passed out of Tomus' sight and hearing. 'He guards his daughter well.'

'True, but we must have her,' said Bellows. 'We must now erect a temporary camp near the outlet of the lake, I'm not going round upon the other side of the lake. The outlet is nearly a mile from him, and I reckon we have a right to pitch our tent there. We must catch some trout and kill a deer, and save our salt meat.'

They passed down to the outlet of the lake and there created a lodge. Before night-fall, it was completed and made quite comfortable. The corporal, however, was disposed to find some fault with their quarters, but Bellows said they were good enough for a son of Ireland. They supped on trout; and night shrouded them.

CHAPTER XV

Anxiety about the Indian Maiden. Fears that Dashford meditated evil upon her. A Vermonter and a Scotchman in pursuit of the young Captain. The uncertainty of forest wanderings.

MAJOR ROCKWELL was fearful that Captain Dashford meditated evil designs upon the innocent and beautiful Therese. He was anxious to ascertain whether Job Bellows had been there since Dashford had deserted, for he knew that Dashford, even with the aid of his corporal, would not venture into the forest in search of the girl. He suspected that the old hunter had gone with him. Victor Gravel and Hugh Fitzgerald were also busy in attempting to ascertain where Dashford and the others had gone. After making much inquiry they found out that the captain and corporal left at the same time, but the old hunter's course they could not trace. He had given out word that he was going to Montreal, and it was the opinion of many that he had gone there, but Gravel and Major Rockwell had different impressions, behaving he had departed with Dashford, and agreed to pilot slum to the lodge of Tomus. Dashford and his companions had been gone several days before Gravel an Fitzgerald could determine upon the course they would pursue. Major Rockwell's opinion turned the scales, and they resolved to enter the forests and endeavor to find the lodge of Tomus. They laid their course towards the lake as near as they could judge. Both were strangers to these forests, and liable to steer wide of the lake. When they started they supposed, from the best information they could obtain, that they might reach the lake the second day at night-fall, if not before. They took with them all the provisions they could carry, determined to find the Indian lodge at all events before they returned. Night overtook them and they camped. The day had been pleasant, and they believed they were not far from the lake. The next morning they rose early, and commenced their journey again. They travelled until noon, when they made a halt, but no signs of the lake appeared.

'I'm somewhat used to the woods of Vermont, but hang me, if I don't feel here like a rat in a strange garret,' said Gravel. 'It seems to me we have travelled far enough to reach Chazy Lake.'

'It seems just so to me,' replied Hugh. 'I have ganged many a time o'er the Highlands of my ain countrie, but I never have seen a wood like this. There's na end to it.'

'We can't find an end until we reach the North Pole where 'tis too cold for trees to grow and water to run,' replied Victor. 'I wish we could have found a good pilot. We may have already passed the lake either to the east or west.'

'True, we may have gone within a mile of it and not discovered it,' said Hugh. 'The trees are thick and the ground mighty uneven. This is worse than soldiering. And suppose the Indians should attack us!'

'Why, we must show 'em what Yankee Scotch pluck can do,' answered Victor. 'We have good guns and ammunition enough. We can whip a score of 'em.'

At that moment a bullet whistled over their heads instantly followed by the sharp report of a musket. They sprang to their feet and prepared for the worst. 'Victor saw the smoke of the gun, and instantly rushed towards it, commanding his companion to follow him. Now an arrow came streaming by them, and almost grazing Hugh's cap.

'Let us give it to the red rascals,' shouted Victor, pressing forward, closely followed by the brave Scot. 'They have but one gun, and if there's twenty of 'em we can drive 'em!'

Another arrow came, and glanced upon Victor's gun and passed harmless away into a spruce tree. Victor now saw three Indians, and one of them reloading his gun. He instantly drew up, and fired. The Indian fell just as he had finishing charging his piece and was about raising it to fire.

'One red skin is toppled o'er,' said Victor. 'Blaze away at the others, while I reload.'

The Scotchman did blaze away at the retreating Indians, who when they saw their companion fall, took to their heels and ran with all their might.

'Ye didn't hit the rascals,' said Victor, ramming down his bullet in great haste, and gazing after the running Indians who had now gone beyond gun-shot.

'They had ganged too far before I fired,' replied Hugh. 'And the trees and hushes are too thick to make a sure shot at such a distance.'

'See, the wounded Indian is trying to follow his companions, but there he falls again,' said Victor, as he finished reloading. 'They'll not trouble us again, and the wounded one is rendered harmless.'

Hugh was busily engaged in charging his gun and soon as he had done so, he was anxious to follow the Indians. He seemed to like the excitement of the fight.

'No use to run after the rascals,' replied Victor. 'We might as well chase a deer. They'll run faster here than we can in an open field.'

'I should like to get another shot at 'em,' said Hugh, shouldering his gun, and looking as if he were much excited.

'We must approach the wounded rascal cautiously,' said Victor. 'If his gun is charged he would fire at us in the last agonies of death.

The wounded Indian was quiet, and they cautiously approached him. He was not dead, but had struggled out of reach of his gun, and his strength was not sufficient to enable him to go back after it. While he saw them approaching, he made several unsuccessful attempts to do so. Victor ran and seized the Indian's gun.

'Let the rascal fire now!' exclaimed Victor, flourishing the red-skin's weapon in the air, and approaching his victim who sat up leaning on his right elbow.

Victor and the Indian gazed upon each other for a few moments in silence, while the Scotchman stood motionless as a statue.

'Ye hit him in the hip,' said Hugh, looking at the blood issuing from that quarter. 'He canna gang a muckle gait after a' that.'

The wounded man turned his dark eyes upon the Scot, and muttered something in Indian tongue which they could not understand. He kept his sparkling eyes upon them as if he feared a blow from the bread, of one of their guns. But to ward off a blow was not his only object; another object was to seek a favorable opportunity to strike with his tomahawk, which was concealed under the blanket that fell over his shoulders. Victor had some pity for the wounded Indian and did not like to finish him on the spot. He hoped to be able to ascertain from him the whereabouts of the lake.

'Tell us where lake Chazy is, and it may be we shall let you live,' said Victor.

The Indian made no reply, but kept his eyes fastened upon them in a fixed gaze. Victor supposed he did not understand, and spoke the word 'Chazee,' several times and made such signs as he hoped might make the Indian understand what was wanted, but the Indian changed not his countenance not uttered a word.

'He does not understand, else he's sulky and will not talk,' said Victor, touching him with the toe of his boot to stir him up.

'Can ye speak the Scotch tongue?' asked Hugh. But the Indian was silent.

'He may understand the French,' said Victor. 'Many of the Indians in Canada speak French, but I don't know enough of the language to ask him.'

'I canna speak it,' said Hugh. 'Will ye tell us, where Chazy is? Come, speak out, and save your ain life.'

'Yes, tell us, and not be so sulky,' said Victor, giving him another slight kick.

Quick as thought, the Indian drew his tomahawk from his moose-hide belt under his blanket, and hurled it at Victor's head it cut Victor's ear slightly, an stuck in a spruce tree just beyond him. With his ear bleeding, Victor sprang upon he Indian, grasped his throat as the tiger would seize his prey. The Indian turned and writhed, but he was too much exhausted to make but a feeble resistance.

'O, you copper colored rascal,' exclaimed Victor 'I'll choke your life out!'

'Stand back and let me send a bullet through his heart,' said the Scotchman.

'Save yer charge,' replied Victor, tightening his powerful grasp, and pressing his victim down upon the earth. 'He can't breathe long with my hand upon his windpipe.'

'He's bent upon dying game,' said Hugh, gazing upon the Indian's distorted features.

'It is their custom to die bravely when they know they must die,' replied Victor. 'But they are cowards after all, and dare not fight in open field.'

'He ceases to struggle,' said Hugh. 'I think he canna breathe again.'

Victor soon released his grasp, and the Indian was quite dead. He was a large, stalwart son of the forest, and no doubt had scalped more than one white man.

'We'll not leave his body to be devoured by the wolves,' said Victor. 'It is a human body and shall be buried. They found upon his person a few gold coins and a small gold watch.'

'The rascal has murdered some American officer, and stolen his money and watch,' said Victor, as he took the articles from his bosom.

'No doubt of it, but he willna rob again,' replied Hugh, taking up the Indian's gun. 'This is an old English piece.'

'The Britishers gave it to him to shoot the Americans,' replied the Vermonter. 'We'll bury him and his gun with him, for us too heavy for us to carry with our other luggage.'

'And ye wadna bury the watch and the gold with him?' asked Hugh, smiling.

'I reckon we'll try to take them along with us,' answered Victor.

They now dug a rude grave on a hillside, and buried the Indian and his gun. The tomahawk they took with them, and travelled on towards the north. Victor concluded to travel in that direction until night-fall, and then, if they did not find the lake to strike off east a mile or two, and then steer awhile on a southern course. Believing they had travelled north quite as far as the lake lay, they hoped to find it on another course. Victor carried the watch and Hugh the gold coins. The watch was in time-keeping order, but had run down. There was a key attached to it, and they wound it by the Scotchman's Bull's Eye, which he boasted would keep better time than any watch in America. It was his grandfather's and had been in the family many years. Victor felt quite proud in sporting a gold watch.

'You may keep the sovereigns, and I will keep the watch,' said Victor.

'I agree to that,' replied Hugh. I have one watch, and want money more than an other watch.'

'It is now past five o'clock, and the sun begins to run low,' said Victor; pulling out his watch, and noticing the time of day.

'Ye handle the watch like a gentleman,' said Hugh, laughing.

'It is just the article for my sweetheart,' replied the Vermonter. 'I promised her if I got home alive, I would bring her something from the wars that would make her laugh. She told me to shoot a British officer and bring her his ring, or some of his jewelry. She's a flaming patriot, and hates the Britishers as bitterly as her old father does. Old as he is, he seriously talked of volunteering and joining the army, but I told him, old men for council, and young men for war Go, said he, and fight the British, or you shall never have my daughter. And she intimated as much. I tell ye, friend, she's chock full of patriotism, and I believe in my soul, if I had refused to go and fight for my country she would have given me the mitten.'

'And served ye right, too,' replied the brave Scot.' Ye must tell her the watch belonged to a British officer.'

'I never speak any thing but truth to her,' answered Victor.

'Very gude, but how ken ye, but the watch did belong to an officer in the British army?' inquired Hugh.

'True, but the probability is, it belonged to an American officer,' answered Victor 'I shall just relate to her all the circumstances. She will rejoice that I have killed an Indian'

It was near sunset and no lake was discovered. They erected a temporary lodge for the night, and encamped. In the morning, they directed their course east, and after travelling about three miles, they steered in southern direction. About noon, they discovered a sheet of water through the trees, shining in the beams of the noon-day sun. Their hearts beat with joy.

'There's the lake!' exclaimed Victor, pointing towards the bright waters.

At that moment a beautiful buck crossed before them and bounded from their view.—Victor's gun was at his shoulders, but the animal was too quick for him, and escaped all harm.

They hurried on, and soon stood on the shore of a small pond. They disturbed several deer that had gone into the water to get out of the way of the flies.

'Heavens!' exclaimed the Scot. 'See the deer! There's a score of 'em at least!'

As he spoke, the creatures upon that side of the pond were hurrying out of the water, and hounding away from their sight. There was no chance for a shot.

'I fear this is not Chazy Lake,' said Victor. 'It is not large enough, if I have been correctly informed.'

'If it is not, I don't know as we shall ever find it,' replied Hugh. 'Finding a particular lake in these forests is like hunting for a needle in a haystack.'

'I fear we have not found the lake we're in search of yet,' said Victor. 'But we'll travel round it, and see what we can discover.'

They traveled round upon the shore, but discovered not the lodge of Tomus. Again night overtook them, and they encamped on the shore near a small brook that came trickling down between two hills and mingling its waters with those of the lake. The Scotchman was an angler, and fond of the sport. Early in the morning he threw in his hook at the mouth of the brook, and killed as many as he wanted. He declared to his companion he could kill a barrel of them in a few hours, and confessed he never saw them so abundant in his own country—a confession he would not make unless the truth had forced it upon him. They made an excellent morning meal, and felt much refreshed.

Now the question is, where are we?' said Victor, gazing upon the wild scene! about the lake, and trying to study out the locality. 'It is certain this is not Chazy Lake, but it seems to me it can't be many miles from it.'

'We must be a long gait from home,' said Hugh. 'We've ganged along like horses.'

'I have it!' exclaimed Victor, rising up, and running his fingers through his hair.

'What hae ye?' asked Hugh, 'Do ye ken where we are?'

'This must be Bradley Pond,' replied Victor. I now recollect a description an old hunter gave me, and it answers for Bradley Pond. If it is, we are but three or four, miles west from Chazy Lake. At any rate we'll now direct our steps cast, and two hours will settle the question.'

The Vermonter was right in his calculations. They were on the shore of Bradley Pond, not more than three miles from the lake they had been so long in search of. Due east they steered their course, full of hope and spirit. We must now leave these champions of female innocence, and tarn to other scenes and matters which belong to this narrative.

CHAPTER XVI

The long sought lake is found. The daughter of Tomus is missing. Great alarm on that accident. Tomus leads the way out of the forest in search of his daughter. The scene changes from forest to city.

'WHERE'S Therese?' anxiously inquired Tomus of Millinok's daughter, as he and Millinok, returned from a hunting excursion and entered the lodge of the former. The Indian maiden looked wild and troubled, and so much embarrassed, that she could not at first answer the inquiry. Tomus was greatly excited, and repeated his question with great earnestness and solicitude. She at last told him that Therese the next day after he and her father started out to hunt, took a canoe and crossed the lake, intending to go to their lodge, and also to catch some trout before she returned, and that she had not seen her since. The suspicions of Tomus was at once aroused, and his eyes rolled wildly, and his breathing was hard.

'Have you seen any pale faces about? anxiously inquire J Tomus

The Indian girl told him she had not, and that she crossed the lake just before night the same day Therese went over, and found her canoe there, and saw some tracks of pale faces on the lake shore. Tomus was in great trouble, and strongly suspected that Job Bellows and his companions had abducted his daughter. He saw Bellows a day or two before he and Millinok went out on a hunting expedition, and Bellows told him that he and the others were going back to Plattsburgh. Tomus supposed they had gone, or he would not have left Therese with Millinok's daughter. He and Millinok had been gone nearly a week. The old Indian stood motionless as a statue with his eyes fixed upon the ground, his chest heaving with strange emotions, and his brow knit as if he was meditating some terrible enterprize.

'That scoundrel, Bellows, has deceived me,' he muttered. 'He has taken away Therese by force, for she would never consent to go willingly. That young fellow pays him well for it. Before the Great Spirit I swear vengeance upon him!'

'Perhaps she may be drowned,' said Millinok.

'Then the trout in the lake will drown,' replied Tomus, bending down his ear to the ground, and listening as if he heard something coming. 'Hark! I hear footsteps !'

He ran up and anxiously gazed in every direction.

'I was right,' said Victor. 'Here's the lake we have been in search of.'

'Yes, and there's an Indian's lodge,' replied Hugh.

'Our hopes will soon he realized,' said Victor. 'That must be the lodge of Tomus.'

Victor and Hugh now came forward and stood before Tomus and Millinok.

'Is this the lodge of Tomus?' asked Victor, while the two Indians stood gazing upon him.

'My lodge is upon the other side of the lake,' replied Tomus.

'Then this is lake Chazy,' said Victor. 'We come here in pursuit of three men who we supposed might attempt to steal your daughter.'

Tomus' countenance was full of expression and his heart beat violently. Victor began to fear that he was too ate to save the Indian maiden.

'Your daughter is safe, I trust,' continued Victor, anxiously gazing upon Tomus.

Tomus now related all he knew about his daughter's absence, and expressed his suspicions that Job Bellows and Dashford had forcibly torn her away from him Victor then informed Tomus all he knew, and his object in coming to the lake. Tomus expressed much gratitude to them, and asked them to assist him in recovering his daughter.

'They have carried her to the great city,' said Victor. 'Dashford has money and has hired Bellows and that other Irish scoundrel to steal your daughter. She must be restored to you and the villains punished.'

'We'll gang with ye until ye find her,' said Hugh Fitzgerald. 'Dashford is a coward, a villain, a deserter from the army. We'll gang after him to the end of the world.'

'May the Great Spirit bless us all,' said Tomus. 'There's no time to lose. They have been gone five days, but we can follow their trail. Therese would die before she would yield to the villains. An Indian maiden may be hound and carried off; but she will never fall from virtue. Before the Great Spirit, I have sworn to be revenged!'

And this noble-hearted Indian stood before them in the pride of his nature. True, be severely felt the loss of his beloved daughter, but the spirit of revenge had taken such possession of his soul that he shed no tears, and no signs of grief marked his countenance. Tomus led the way, and Victor and Hugh followed him in the direction of Plattsburgh. They slept not until they reached the shore of Lake Champlain. They found Major Rockwell, who was about to start for New York city on business for the government. They counselled together, and finally started on their journey. Nothing had been seen or heard of Captain Dashford, nor of his corporal, or Job Bellows, since they left Plattsburgh several days previous. Rockwell gave his opinion that they had gone to the city, but purposely avoided that place. He promised to assist Tomus in the search of his daughter. With all the speed they could command at that age of the world, they made their way to New York city Strange as it may seem, after they searched the city, they could hear nothing of Captain Dashford and his companions neither did they trace them on the way. They had not arrived or if they had, they had concealed themselves. Major Rockwell ascertained where Dashford's mother lived, and called upon her. She and her daughter had just been reading in one of the Tory papers, as the patriotic widow called it, another version of her son s desertion, and some comments upon the government for appointing such officers as Captain Dashford, who, in the language of the editor, ought never to have gone beyond the length of his mother's apron-string. Mrs. Dashford was highly provoked at such comments upon the government and her son, but Emily thought they were just, for she now had no doubt but her brother had shown the white feather, and deserted. The mother still pretended to believe that her darling boy had not deserted, still she had a great many doubts and misgivings upon the subject.

'Strange, mother, you will still insist that Edwin has not deserted when almost every journal in and out of the city has published the fact,' said Emily.

'You're too swift to believe evil of your dear brother,' said Mrs. Dashford.' It is true that many papers have published Edwin's desertion, but it was first published in Tory prints, and the others have only copied it. I won't believe a word of it until I see something official. Only see how this paper blackguards not only Edwin, but our patriotic government! O, Emily, if your father were alive, he would make this old Federalist paper smart. He used to write some very severe political articles.'

'Yes, mother, he has written a great many articles that even his favorite journals would not publish,' replied Emily. 'He was not a grammatical writer, but the editors corrected and published a very few of his articles to please him and make him contribute his money for electioneering purposes.'

The reader who is familiar with the history of the past, knows how bitter were the political discussions in the journals previous, and during our last war with England.—Political prejudices were so strong and foreign influences so great, that the peace of social relations was disturbed, villages set by the ears, and even the domestic happiness of families destroyed by the monster, party spirit. Sons would be against their fathers, and even daughters against their mothers. That friendly feeling which once characterized the people, had given place to warm, and often ill-natured disputes, and even the minister and his parishioners were divided and the Church itself became the arena of political strife and bitterness.

'Whenever your father is alluded to, you always have something to say to blacken his memory,' replied the widow. 'Your father was a very good writer, and I know one editor who used to solicit him to write articles for his paper.'

'I knew that editor too, and he was an office-seeker, and flattered father for the express purpose of obtaining his influence,' answered Emily. 'Such a request from such a source was any thing but complimentary of his intellectual powers. That editor is a perfect demagogue, and cares much more about getting an office than he does about the good of the country. It is strange, mother, that you will be so deceived by pretended political friends! They are entirely selfish, and care not for us. They raise their caps and shout their country's good, but mean their own.'

Jane Canfield now entered and appeared to be somewhat out of humor. She held the same paper in her hand they had been reading, or one of the same kind and date.

'Have you seen this scandalous article about Edwin?' asked Jane; addressing the widow, and presenting the paper to her.

'We have just been reading the libel on my son's fair fame,' replied the widow. 'I have no patience with such editors. They are traitors to their country.'

'I think so too, and I wish our government would hang them,' said Miss Canfield.

'O yes, Jane! you would destroy the liberty of all Presses, except such as reflect your own feelings and opinions,' said Emily That is indeed liberty with a vengeance.—We must hear all sides discussed, and then we shall be better able to judge which is right. It is the glory of our constitutions that the people have the right to express their feelings freely, and not be subjected to the law of tyrants.'

'But this is a libel,' replied Jane, holding out the paper containing the offensive article. 'The editor says Edwin ought not to have gone beyond the length of his mother's apron string! O, I have no patience with such blackguards!'

'Jane, hear me a moment,' said Emily. 'Now suppose, for the sake of the argument, that Edwin is a coward and has deserted the army, are our public journals to be blamed for stating the fact, and commenting upon our government for making such appointments? Again, suppose our army contained only cowards for its officers, and those who are ready to desert at any moment when dangers threaten, what would become of our liberties, now that this foolish war is declared?'

Before the question was answered, the door-bell rang, and Major Rockwell was ushered into the room. He was a stranger and obliged to introduce himself. The widow was much excited at seeing such a portly, good-looking officer. The Major wore his uniform, and appeared easy and natural as well as dignified in it. She and Jane thought he was a very handsome man, but military officers had no peculiar charms for Emily aside from their morality and intelligence. She could never be taught to reverence or respect a man merely because he was decked out with lace and feathers.—But as the reader has already learned, Major Rockwell was an intelligent and kind-hearted gentleman as well as a brave officer. Although an officer, yet he was opposed to wars, and always looked upon the battle-field as too often a great display without any real benefit to the race.

'Have I the honor of addressing the mother of Captain Edwin Dashford?' he asked, directing his conversation to the widow, and glancing at the beautiful and intelligent Emily.

'You have, Sir,' replied Mrs. Dashford, in a trembling, agitated voice, gazing upon the manly form of the Major and admiring his uniform, and fearing he might bring bad news about her son. 'Have you heard any thing from my son? Have you recently been with the army? My son is not killed, trust? I have not heard from him for several weeks!'

'Then he is not at home, is he?' inquired the Major.

'O, no, Sir!' she replied. 'Is he unwell, and left the army?'

'I am not aware, Madam, that he has been laboring under any bodily disease, but he left the army some weeks since,' he replied. 'I had supposed he might he at home.'

'The widow trembled; Jane's face turned red as her hair, and then pale, and Emily felt some alarm for the safety of her brother.

'Did he obtain permission to leave the army for a season?' asked Emily.

'I'm not aware that he obtained, or even sought for such permission,' he replied.

These words of the Major fell like lead upon the hearts of the widow and Jane, while Emily was satisfied that all which had been published in the papers respecting her brother was true, and therefore she was not at all surprised. The Major noticed that the mother and the young lady were much agitated.

'I regret, Madam, to be the bearer of such news, but I supposed you were aware of all the facts, and that I should find your son safe at home, and out of danger of British guns and Indian tomahawks,' continued the Major.

'Just as I have always said,' answered Emily. 'I knew very well that my brother would talk more bravely than he would act when dangers pressed. These city-bred young men are not at all qualified for military officers in time of war. They may do well enough in time of peace to attract the attention of some young ladies by the glitter of their uniforms and to strut about as shows.'

'Then you are Captain Dashford's sister,' said Rockwell, admiring her personal beauty and independent spirit.

She replied in the affirmative, while her mother and Jane were too much overcome by their own feelings to say any thing. They were now pretty thoroughly convinced that Edwin had become a deserter from the army and wondered where he could be.

'Don't you think, Sir, that war is a great evil, and that nations might settle their disputes in a better way than in resorting to deadly weapons?' asked Emily. 'I know you are an officer, and may be prejudiced in your judgment.'

'I think I can give you an unprejudiced opinion upon the subject,' he replied. 'It does seem to me, and it has been my opinion for years, that civilized nations might settle all their controversies without resorting to arms. I say civilized nations, and those upon whom the light of the Gospel has shone, but we can't expect any thing from barbarous powers but wars and bloodshed.'

'I rejoice to hear such opinions from military gentlemen,' she replied. 'When all officers shall entertain and express candidly such opinions and sentiments, there will be reason to hope that wars may cease among Christian nations at least. I like your opinions and admire your frankness in expressing them, and I should be pleased to know the name of the officer with whom I have the honor of conversing.'

'My name is Rockwell,' he replied; smiling at Emily's frankness and independence . 'No American officer ought to be ashamed to tell his name when a lady asks at. In the army, I believe I am known as Major Rockwell.'

The widow and Miss Canfield were struck with surprise when he declared his name, for he was one of the bravest officers in the American army, and his name was, familiar to every body who was at all conversant with public affairs.

'Major Rockwell!' repeated the widow and her expected daughter-in-law, simultaneously. But they said no more and remained silent, giving up to Emily the privilege of entertaining the Major, which privilege she exercised with a skill and fluency that really charmed the Major and made him perfectly willing to prolong his stay. Jane Canfield felt a thousand conflicting emotions.

'I have often heard of Major Rockwell,' said Emily. 'Our journals not only speak of your bravery as an officer, but, what is infinitely more valuable to my mind, of your kindness and benevolence as a man. I'm happy to make your acquaintance, Major, but I regret you could not have brought us a more favorable account of my brother. I was always opposed to his joining the army, for I believed he was not fitted by nature or education to occupy such a position. However, he has now learned a lesson which may be beneficial to him hereafter. It is true that young men sometimes purchase experience at a dear rate, as I think my brother has; nevertheless, all must live and learn. I reckon Edwin will not be much flattered hereafter in being called Captain Dashford; he will probably be willing to have his title dropped.'

The Major smiled, the mother sighed, and Jane's hair seemed to assume a more fiery hue. Rockwell grew more and more pleased with Emily. He was always a great gallant among the ladies, but considered himself bullet-proof against the darts of cupid. Somehow or other, this girl seemed to find her way directly to his heart, and she did it too, without making the least effort. It seemed to him, that she was the very first beautiful girl he ever saw or conversed with who appeared entirely unconscious of her own personal charms. And that made her a thousand-fold more charming to him.—He began to turn his eyes inward to see if his heart had become purple with love's wound. At any rate, Emily's voice, manner and sentiments made such an impression upon him as no other lady ever had; but whether it was the first buddings of love, or not, was more than he could cipher out. There was a brief pause in the conversation, but the thoughts of all were exceedingly busy.

'Have you any idea, Major, which way my brother went, after he deserted?' asked Emily.

'It was conjectured by some that he took a turn into the forest,' he replied. 'As you say your brother was not fitted by nature or education for war, it may not follow that he is not fitted for love.'

Miss Canfield suddenly started, but said nothing, and the mother looked wild. The Major smiled, and looked as if he meant much more than he said.

'You smile, Major,' said Emily. 'May I ask what lies beyond your remarks? Has my brother found an enchantress in the forests?'

'Rumor has it that he has fallen desperately in love with a beautiful half Indian girl whom he saw at Plattsburgh,' he replied.

Jane shrieked and fell upon the floor as if she had been pierced with a bullet. The Major ran to her relief and raised her upon a sofa. Possessing strong nerves, he was not thrown from his balance by such a demonstration. He who had seen the dead on the battle-field and heard the groans of the dying was not likely to be alarmed at the shrieking or swooning of a lady.

'Is the lady subject to fits?' he asked, appearing quite calm and collected.

'She possesses a very nervous temperament ment,' replied Emily, smoothing back Jane's curling red hair from her forehead and rubbing her temples. 'She will soon recover. To hear that my brother sees charms in any other lady but herself gives her tender nerves a shock.'

'I understand,' said the Major. 'I'm sorry I mentioned the rumor. However, I believe it has been made public through the newspapers, so that I'm not so much in fault as I might have been.'

'Is it true that he has been running after an Indian squaw?' asked Jane, in a screaming voice, springing from the sofa on which the Major had so kindly placed her, and wildly gazing upon the Major.

'Indeed, I cannot answer your question, he replied. 'There was an exceedingly beautiful half Indian girl at Plattsburgh with her father, and Captain Dashford gave her his splendid gun; I'm not aware that guns have ever been considered tokens of love, and he might have given it to her from motives of benevolence.'

'Did you hear him say any thing about the squaw?' anxiously inquired Jane.

'That beautiful half Indian girl cannot properly be called a squaw,' he replied. 'She is young and never has been married, and therefore it is not proper to call her a squaw. I heard Captain Dashford say, that she was the most beautiful creature he ever saw, and he spoke particularly of her long hair as being dark, and shining as the raven's wing.'

Jane turned her eyes towards a large mirror that hung in the room, and saw therein reflected her curling, coarse, red hair. The contrast was so great between that and the glossy blackness of the raven's wing that she began to feel a sickness come over her heart. The widow Dashford, too, had heard enough for once and desired to leave the room. She had not spoken for some time and knew not what to say.

'I fear you don't feel well, my dear Miss Canfield,' said the widow. 'I think you had better go and lie down awhile, I will show you to a room where you can be quiet.'

The widow now led Jane from the room, leaving the Major and Emily alone. The Major did not particularly regret that circumstance. Bachelor as he was, he was not afraid to be alone in a room with a beautiful girl.

'That is rather a singular young lady,' he said, smiling.

'She is, indeed, and her only ambition is to marry an officer of the army,' replied Emily. 'Perhaps, Major, as my brother has deserted and must lose his commission, you may reasonably indulge a hope in that quarter. Miss Canfield is very rich.'

'And her hair very red,' he replied. 'You must excuse me, Miss Dashford, I can bear fire-locks in the army, but care not to be always associated with them, when not on military duty.'

There was a good-natured laugh between them, and they seemed like old acquaintances. The Major related to her all he knew about her brother, and did not leave until he had asked and obtained permission to call upon her again. He also promised to do all he could to find the young deserter.

CHAPTER XVII

Scenes in the city. Search for the Indian Maiden continually kept up. A ray of hope.

'I DON'T believe Dashford has arrived in the city,' said Victor Gravel to Tomus and Hugh Fitzgerald. 'I saw Major Rockwell a short time since, and he says the young scamp has not been at home.'

'He may wish to keep out of sight of all who know him,' said Tomus. 'I feel as if he and my daughter are somewhere in the city. Should I meet him or Job Bellows I should be tempted to shoot them down and suffer what the laws of the pale faces might inflict upon me.'

'If they have stolen your daughter, the laws would not punish you severely for such an act,' replied Victor. 'We're bound to rescue your daughter from the dandy officer's power. I belong to the Green Mountain State, whose star never sets. My mother always told me I had a few drops of Ethan Allen's blood in my veins. The innocent shall be protected and the guilty be punished, That's my motto.'

'And I came from the Highlands of my ain gude Scotland, and blood will tell,' said Hugh. 'Therese, the bonnie lassie of the American forest shall be restored to her ain father's arms.'

'Brave warriors in a good cause, the Great Spirit will smile upon you,' said Tomus

'Let me once get on the trail of that old hunter Bellows, and he may as well have a catamount after him,' said Victor, stretching up his tall form, and advancing his left foot nearly four feet from his right, as if he would suit the action to the word, and show how swiftly he could follow Bellows.

'I ken very weel the gait ye ganged in the forest,' said Hugh, smiling.

'And ye'll remember it the longest day ye live,' replied Victor. 'Did'nt ye have hard work to keep even with me?'

'Oh, say nothing about that,' answered Hugh. 'Let us go out and gang up Broadway, and may be we shall make some discoveries.'

'Agreed: but Tomus had better remain here,' said Victor. 'If he goes out he will attract attention, and then the young Captain may learn he is here, and conceal himself more closely.'

Tomus at once saw the wisdom of Victor's remark, and remained at the boarding house to which Rockwell advised them to go, and avoid the notoriety which staying at a public hotel might give them. Victor and Hugh sauntered up Broadway, and gazed upon the crowds that were passing.

'By the powers, see there!' said Corporal Quin to Job Bellows as they were in an oyster saloon on Broadway, the door of which was open. 'That tall Jones there I have seen before now.'

'Yes, you have, and so have I,' replied Bellows. 'Depend upon it, those fellows are in search of Dashford as a deserter, but they'll have good luck to find him.—Even his own mother don't know he has arrived in the city.'

'He has fine rooms, he says where he keeps Therese, but she's as obstinate as a mule, and don't seem to have the least fancy for him,' said Quin.

'She thinks too much about her old Indian father yet,' replied Bellows. 'She's wild as a deer, and needs taming. See, those fellows have made a hah! We must not let them discover us. They may be spies. The young Captain has not yet paid us all he agreed to pay, and if he should be troubled, we might have difficulty in getting our money.'

'Ye may well say that,' answered the Corporal. 'I think he ought to give us one hundred pounds each more than we bargained for in the first place. The dog has money enough.'

'True, and we might as well put in for our share while it is going, for go it will,' said Bellows. 'Having never earned a pound, he don't know the value of it, but he's in a fair way to see the want of it.'

'And he's anxious, too, to show his Wild Beauty to his friends and the public, but he does not come out with her at all,' said Quin. 'He's mighty proud of her.'

'Well he may be, for she's a little the handsomest creature I have ever seen in town or country,' answered Bellows. 'If he dared to take her to the theatres, how she would be stared at by the young men!'

'And faith by some of the ould ones too,' replied Quin. 'Dashford says she grows sullen and silent, and rudely pushed him from her when he attempted to kiss her.'

'Ah, corporal, she's as chaste and virtuous as she's lovely and bewitching,' said the old hunter. 'Hard as I my heart is, I confess it felt some pity for her when we were dragging her away from her home in the forest and from all her wild sports.'

'By St. Patrick, it gave me a bit of pity's touch, when I put my handkerchief over her mouth to kape her from making a noise,' replied Quin.' But then it is all over now and she can live like a queen.'

'Live like a queen!' repeated old Bellows, smiling. 'Mark me: the young Captain can never tame that wild Beauty And it he attempts to use violence, she will do some desperate act. How old Tomus would skin Dashford if he could set his copper colored paws upon him! Now, between you and me, I saw Dashford last evening and dunned him a little easy for the balance of the money he owes us.'

'And he did'nt refuse to pay, did he?' inquired the corporal.

'Not exactly so, but he thought he had already paid us pretty liberally,' replied Bellows.

'And the divil take him for his own if he don't come fully up to the mark and go a little beyond it,' answered Quin. 'What are four hundred pounds in a city like this? we can spend that some in a few months, unless we have better luck in robbing than we have had since we arrived here. We have the power to push him a higher notch than we agreed upon. I knew him from a boy, for I used to live with his father. We can bleed him for some time yet. He inherited from his father's estate more than one hundred thousand dollars, but I suppose he has squandered a good portion of it.'

These scoundrels had already received from Dashford two thousand dollars, and according to the original agreement he owed them one thousand more, but they were for spunging him still more. As Bellows intimated, the young Captain said he thought he had paid them enough already, still he had not absolutely refused to fulfill the agreement. Bellows, however, was suspicious of him, and governed himself accordingly.—Bellows was the master-spirit, still, Quin was better acquainted with the city and its different localities, gambling houses and dens of iniquity. They had formed a copartnership for the purpose of plundering, and getting money in any way except by honest industry, Bellows was a stranger in the city, but then he possessed a wonderful aptness to learn all the arts of mischief and to practice them adroitly.

Victor and Hugh passed on up Broadway. They were never in the city before and saw much to attract their attention and excite their curiosity. The Scotchman found the city much larger than he expected, and frankly acknowledged it came pretty well up to the cities of Scotland. He liked a city life, but Victor preferred the green fields and rich valleys of his own State to the bricks, mortar and paving stones which composed the city.

'It is well enough for a country chap to see such a city as this is, but hang me if I should want to live here long,' said Victor. 'What are bricks and paving stones compared with fresh pastures and fields of corn? What is one of these blocks of stores compared to a lofty mountain whose sides are dotted with sheep and cattle?'

'Those who have been brought up in the country, like the country, but I was brought up in a city until I was twenty-one years of age, and I like the city the best,' replied Hugh.

'A rogue and a lazy fellow can do better here, I suppose, than he could in the country,' said Victor. 'I conclude one half the people here get their living by cheating the other half.'

'I hope not quite se bad as that,' replied the Scot, smiling. 'But I confess there is more sin here than in good quiet country towns. Men here must exercise their wits.'

'Yes, and their corrupt hearts,' answered Victor. 'If they would have food for their stomachs and their backs.'

'See twa bonnie lasses!' exclaimed Hugh, pointing to two young ladies dressed in purple-colored silks who were coming towards them, and laughing. 'They are lovely creatures and gang an easy gait.'

'Rather mincing,' replied Victor. 'They don't travel off like the Vermont girls.'

'Ah, you think the lassies of your aim State are the finest in the whole world,' said Hugh, laughing. 'True, they are hale and hearty.'

'Yes, and fresh as the new blown rose,' replied Victor. 'They work for a living, and that makes them strong as well as beautiful, but the girls here, go mincing about in their silks and satins, and don't get their eyes open in the morning until almost noon. What sensible man would want such for wives? No! no, give me the country girls.'

They proceeded on at a slow gait, and discussed matters and things in general, and the ladies in particular, hoping to meet young Dashford, or get a glimpse of the Indian maiden among the crowds who were thronging the streets. Their hearts were bent on restoring her to her father, if the thing were possible. Such resolute, warm-hearted fellows were not easily discouraged. Major Rockwell was also enlisted in the same enterprise and left no stone unturned the turning of which might possibly lead to the discovery of the lost maiden.

'Gracious heavens!' exclaimed Victor, looking up to a window in the third story of a large brick house fronting on Broadway, and pointing to the same. 'See! there's a girl with long black hair, who looks like the Indian maiden!'

'She's a beauty at any rate,' replied Hugh, gazing upon her as she sat at an open window. 'Ah, there's a gent beyond her!'

'I just had a glimpse of him,' said Victor. 'But they are both gone now.'

'True, as Victor stated, those at the window drew back while they were looking at them. They stood sometime in the street, keeping their eves upon he window, but no one again appeared in sight, and the window was soon closed. They debated the question sometime, whether it was best to ring the door-bell or not, but they finally concluded to mark the house well and pass along.—They did so.

'I have a great curiosity to know who lives in that house,' said Victor. 'Who knows but the daughter of Tomus is concealed there?'

'It is possible,' replied Hugh. 'The lassie we saw at the window did na look like a common one. It may be one of the bad houses.'

'What, here on Broadway!' asked Victor, feeling much surprise.

'To be sure!' replied Hugh, smiling.—'Such houses are scattered all over the city, and many of them are in the most fashionable streets.'

'Then let us turn back, and I will seek admission,' said Victor.

They returned, and Victor seized the knob, and gave it a strong pull, while his companion stood upon the sidewalk. The summons brought a servant girl to the door. Victor was thunder-struck when he looked into the maid's face.

'Bless my stars!' exclaimed Victor, extending his hand, and shaking the maid's. 'Is that you, Sal Smith?'

'It is'nt any body else,' she replied.—'What in the world are you here for?'

'O, just to see the city and learn the fashions,' he replied. 'How long have you been here? I thought you had gone to Boston.'

'I did go there, but then Boston was'nt big enough to hold me long,' she said, while a smile played over her round, fat face. 'I get much better wages here. But why have you come to this house? Any body here you know?'

'Who lives here?' he asked, gazing full in her face.

'Tell me who you wish to see, and then I can tell you if the person lives here,' she replied, smiling, and winking her left eye as if she knew some things.

Hugh now came up that he might not lose a word of what passed between the maid and Victor. It was evident that the girl was cunning and not easily circumvented. She had lived in Victor's family, or rather his father's family, some year or two, and he knew her well. What her fortunes had been since she left Vermont, it is not now necessary to record.

'I wish to see the lady of the house,' said Victor, smiling, and assuming a sort of sly cunning look, which in some good degree corresponded with hers.

'How know you that there is any lady of the house?' she asked. 'She may be dead, her husband a widower, and I his housekeeper.'

Victor now heard some giggling within that sounded as if made by female voices.—It soon, however, ceased, and he heard no more of it.

'A pretty housekeeper you would make,' he said, laughing.

'And why not?' she asked: 'Did'nt I do all the work in your father's house when your mother was sick? And since that I have grown smarter. If you expect to be admitted to the house, you must name the person you wish to see.'

Victor was now put to his trumps, and knew not what to say. Policy forbid him to inquire after the Indian maiden. At last a thought struck him, and he asked if Mary Moreton lived there, a person he never knew or heard of before.

'No such girl lives here,' she replied. 'I never knew one by that name. I think you will have to hunt elsewhere before you find her.'

Time was pressing, and the girl showed symptoms of closing the door and ending the conversation. The Scotchman now put in a word and somewhat relieved Victor from his embarrassment. He believed she could be bribed, and also, that the Indian maiden was under that roof.

'Take that, my gude lassie and remember there's muckle mair where that came from,' he said, handing her a silver dollar. 'We believe you can give us some information about a person.'

The girl gladly pocketed the money, and agreed to meet them at a time and place they named. They left, and sauntered along the street, feeling as if they had found the cage that confined the beautiful bird they were in search of. Much time did not elapse before they communicated their adventure to Major Rockwell. He, too, was encouraged to believe that they were on the trail of the lost maiden.

CHAPTER XVIII

The truth must prevail. The partizan character of public Journals. The anonymous letter. A hit at false aristocracy. The proud mother rebuked by the daughter. A glimpse at courting.

THE widow Dashford and her son's beloved Jane were exceedingly troubled in spirit ever since they had an interview with Major Rockwell. Previous to that time they had strong hopes that the stories in the newspapers were all false, but now they could no longer doubt his desertion from the army, for Rockwell was a gentleman whose word was not to be disputed. The ambitious mother's hopes of her son's military fame and glory were terribly blasted, and Miss Canfield's expectations of becoming the wife of a great here were quite flat. They often met and endeavored to find excuses for the young Captain's conduct, and to console each other under the pressure of such circumstances. The mother believed her son deserted because he was ill treated by the superior officers, and Miss Canfield flattered herself, that the rumors about the falling in love with an Indian maiden were groundless, still she was greatly troubled, and at times extremely miserable, so much so that the widow Dashford feared she might be thrown into a fever. Benevolent and virtuous as Harriett Melville was, yet there was so much of human nature in the elements of her composition that she could not suppress all the joy she felt at the ill-starred fortune of the dandy Captain as she called him. Emily his sister, was anxious to find out what had become of him. She and her friend, Harriet, held frequent conversations upon the subject, and the latter facetiously remarked that he had eloped with a copper-colored daughter of the forest; adding that even an Indian maiden was too good for him. In the circles where he moved and was known, he be was the frequent subject of witty remarks, and the butt of ridicule. All the papers had something to say about his desertion, and even those journals, loudest in favor of the war, spoke of young Dashford as disgracing the memory of his patriotic father. The matter was well authenticated that he had deserted, and some of the newspaper editors made themselves witty at the Captain's expense. In warm political times, public journals are not always the vehicles of truth and each one makes the best of its own side. The desertion of Dashford furnished a very prolific subject to the opposition journals, and many hard hits were made at the Administration of the government, in commenting upon his appointment. All this the proud mother saw, and her feelings can be better imagined than described. One morning Jane Canfield came running into the widow Dashford's house almost out of breath. Troubles treading so closely upon the heels of each other, she became easily excited, and occasionally thrown into hysterical fits.

'What is the matter, my dear Jane?' anxiously inquired Mrs. Dashford. 'Have you any news from Edwin? Yes, you have a letter in your hand! Do let me have it quick!'

Jane gave her the letter: but her emotions were so violent that she could not make any remark. Her eyes were wild, her checks alternately red and pale, and her heart heat as if it would burst its narrow bounds. The widow read the following letter with feelings but little less violent than Jane's.

'MISS JANE CANFIELD: Permit a friend to sympathise with you in your present afflictions. I know how to feel for you, for I once placed my affections on a young man who proved himself as cowardly and treacherous as Captain Dashford has. Perhaps I ought not to say Captain, for he has disgraced the name, and does not deserve the title. I hope you will drive all thoughts of him from your memory, and not lay these things at heart. He is unquestionably a great coward, for when the enemy appeared in sight and the drums beat to battle, he feigned himself sick, and remained at his quarters. There's no doubt of the fact, for the physician of the army is now ready to certify to the fact. But that is not all: for after the first battle was fought, there was a rumor that another engagement would soon take place. Captain Dashford, fearing that another battle might be fought, ran away from the army, and is now making love to an Indian maiden. I hope, my dear friend, you will forever discard the coward, traitor, and libertine from your mind.'

'Coward, traitor, libertine!' exclaimed the widow before she had finished reading the letter. 'O Lord I shall go into fits! No, I went! I will brave this out and all the people can say against my son, I know he must have been sick or he would not have left the army. Coward! traitor! libertine!'

'Yes, that last word will break my heart,' sobbed Jane. 'Making love to a young squaw! O, heavens, I shall die!'

'He is'nt doing any such thing!' said the widow. 'Be calm, my dear Jane, and let me finish this slanderous letter.'

She read as follows: 'I'm exceedingly sorry that you ever listened to his deceitful words. He loves that Harriett Melville a thousand times more than he loves you, but she is poor and is obliged to work for a living; and so his proud, vain, conceited mother, who was once a dress-maker and not a very good one, advised him to offer himself to you. He did so, but not until he became satisfied that Miss Melville would not much longer receive his attentions. I suppose you have always thought that he turned away voluntarily from her, but such is not the fact. She was the sole cause of breaking up the engagement. Had she been so disposed, he would have continued his addresses, but she learned something of his true character every day, and finally concluded to give him his walking-papers. She now rejoices in being rid of such a lover.—I really hope, my dear Miss Canfield, that you will not grieve, but rejoice too, that he has ran away with an Indian girl, for he's just fit to live with squaws. I would subscribe my name, but I withhold it from you for the present.'

The letter dropped from the widow's trembling hand, her eyes rolled back, and she screamed loud enough to raise rafters and roof from the house. Her shrieks brought her daughter into the room.

'What's the matter, mother?' asked Emily. 'Any bad news from Edwin?'

'Read that letter which lies upon the floor,' replied the mother, flashing her eyes, and nervously clenching her hands.

'O, no, I rather she would not read it,' exclaimed Jane, springing forward, and snatching up the letter before Emily could reach it.

'Very well, if it is your letter,' said Emily, very calmly.

'It is mine, and I don't wish you to read it for you'll only make fun of it,' said Jane; looking very angry and excited.

'If it contains any news from my brother you can tell me what news, and keep the letter to yourself,' replied Emily. 'Is it from him?'

'It is not,' answered Jane, 'I don't know who wrote it.'

'It is then an anonymous letter, is it?'—asked Emily.

'It is,' replied Jane, still holding the letter in her trembling hand, and debating the question in her own mind, whether it was best to show the letter or not.

'Well, what can such a letter contain to produce such an effect upon you, mother?' asked Emily. 'If the letter is anonymous, I should not pay any attention to it.'

'Let Emily read it, if she wishes to, for it is all a lie,' said the widow.

Jane now gave the letter to Emily, who calmly read it through. Not a muscle of her face moved while she was perusing it Having finished reading, she gave it back to Jane without remark or comment.

'Did you ever read such a string of lies!' asked Jane, greatly excited. 'The writer says, that Edwin did'nt quit that Melville girl voluntarily, but that she turned him away! Did any body ever hear such a lie as that!'

'There's more truth in that part of the letter than you may suppose,' replied Emily 'It is true, that Miss Melville did advise to a separation between herself and Edwin, for she became satisfied that they could never live happily together. I know that fact, for she told me of it long before they broke off the engagement. I have nothing to say about the other portions of the letter. It was evidently written by some one who does not feel over and above friendly to you.'

'Strange you will say that, that Melville girl turned away Edwin!' said the mother 'You know he quit her, when she was anxious to have their engagement continue.'

'Indeed, mother, I know no such thing,' replied Emily, in a calm, respectful manner 'But I have long known to the contrary If Edwin had conducted himself prudently and not made a fool of himself by joining the army, he and Miss Melville might have been married.'

'O, heavens, Edwin marry a needle girl!' exclaimed Jane; looking very wild, and breathing very hard.

'And, why not, if she is virtuous, intelligent, and beautiful into the bargain?' demanded Emily. 'Does honest industry disgrace a young lady? No, I trust not. It is the want of industry that disgraces both men and women. No matter how wealthy any person may be, it is his, or her duty to be industrious and useful, and not be a mere drone in society Jane, it is true that your father has left you money, but you never earned a cent in your life. What a situation you would be placed in, if your riches should take to themselves wings and fly away, as riches sometimes do? If you should ever become as poor as Miss Melville is, she would undoubtedly have the advantage over you.'

'O, how I hate to hear you talk, and moralise so much,' said the proud mother.—'Edwin will never marry a girl in the low walks of life. It would not be becoming his condition in life.'

'Heaven knows what his present condition in life may be, if he's living,' said Emily. 'If he should ever descend so low as to marry a girl who gets her living by her needle, he will do no worse than my father did.'

'How strangely you talk!' exclaimed her mother.

'Not strangely, mother,' replied Emily.—'You were a dress-maker when you were married, and Jane's father was once a cooper.'

'Never! never! never!' exclaimed Jane. 'I never heard of such a thing in my life!'

'I believe he gave up that trade some two or three years before you were born,' said Emily, smiling. 'But you may depend upon it, be learnt the cooper's trade, and made money at it for several years before he commenced mercantile business. I will appeal to mother if I have not stated the truth.'

'You must not appeal to me, for I was not acquainted with Mr. Canfield when he was a young man,' replied the widow; wishing to avoid the question, lest her answer might offend her friend, and would be daughter-in-law.

Major Rockwell now rang the bell, and was ushered in He was in fine spirits, and treated them all very politely and gentlemanly. His introduction to, and acquaintance with Emily Dashford, had given hint new life, and revived the spirit of gallantry for which he was so remarkable in his earlier days. Several years, ago he had given up all hope of ever marrying, but the beauty, accomplishments, and high moral character of this good girl, seemed to change the general current of his feelings, and rejuvenile his heart. Like most bachelors he had been in love in his boyhood, but the object round which the affections of his soul had clustered was removed from earthly scenes by death, that relentless foe to beauty and mirth.

'No news from your son, yet, Madam,' he said, addressing the widow.

'Not any, Sir,' she replied. 'It is very strange that he don't either write, or come home.'

'There may be more than one reason for concealing himself,' he said.

'And what is one reason, Sir; to say nothing of more?' she asked, exhibiting considerable feeling, while Jane listened most intently to every word the Major uttered.

'You know deserters from the army are sometimes reprimanded and punished,' he replied.

'Common soldiers are, but not officers who have a right to resign their commissions.'

'That depends upon circumstances,' he answered. 'There's a difference between resigning one's commission and leaving the army without ceremony. Officers, as well as soldiers, must be subject to the rules and regulations of the army; otherwise, war would be worse than it is now. And surely it is a great evil in the world, however well and skilfully it may be conducted.'

'It seems strange to me that officers should consider war an evil,' she replied.

'They are the very men who best knew its great evils,' said the Major, smiling.

'But what's the other reason for my son's concealing himself? she inquired.'

'You will pardon me then, my dear Madam,' he replied. 'Miss Canfield is rather nervous, and I do not wish to wound her feelings.'

'O, dear me!' sobbed Jane, in a tremulous voice. 'I wish I had never heard of the war.'

'You need not be alarmed, for Captain Dashford will probably never be shot by British guns,' said the Major.' 'He's beyond the reach of them.'

'I know it, but there are Indians hanging about the army,' said Jane, covering her face with her kerchief, and leaving the room, followed by the widow.

The Major could not help laughing at the last remark of Jane, and Emily joined in the laugh. He shed no tears because they left the room, for he was quite willing to be alone with the lovely Emily, who grew more and more pleased with him at every interview. As the gallant Major said many pleasant things at this meeting with Emily which are not proper to be made public, we shall not record them. That he was fast falling in love there can be no question.—And he began to feel a consciousness of being in such a state himself, although he might not be willing to acknowledge it to the world.

CHAPTER XIX

The interview in which the Vermont Maiden discloses some secrets. The rights of the softer sex. A new character introduced. The effect of a Major's advice. The poison.

THE evening came when Sal Smith agreed to meet Victor Gravel and Hugh Fitzgerald. Tomus and Major Rockwell were also present. Their curiosity was much excited, but Rockwell was more cautious and less impulsive than Victor or Hugh. Tomus was more silent and thoughtful than any of them. He was somewhat out of place in the city, but he could follow a trail in the forest when others might pass over it many times and even get lost themselves. It was agreed that Rockwell should manage the affair with the mind servant when she came, while the others were to remain in a separate room. He strongly suspected that this woman intended to sponge money out of them without being able to communicate any information touching the lost Indian maiden. Gravel and Fitzgerald, on the contrary were confident the girl knew all about the affair. Besides, they had seen at a window a maiden strongly resembling the daughter of Tomus, and the peculiar expression of the girl's countenance fully convinced them that they were on the track of Therese, and should be able to restore her to her father. The maidservant arrived punctually at the time, and Major Rockwell, who surveyed her from bonnet to shoes as if he was determined to read her character. She was a hale, hearty, large woman about thirty years of age; whose manners and general appearance convinced Rock well that virtue hung loosely about her, and therefore he was the more cautions and scrutinizing.

'Good evening,' said the Major, as he entered the room where she was, bowing, and treating her very respectfully.

She returned the compliment, and looked the Major full in the face as if she would also read his thoughts. She at once came to the conclusion that he was an accomplished gentleman as well as a brave military officer. She was at a loss to know why he should meet her instead of Victor and Hugh.

'I understand you are a servant in a certain house up town,' he said.

'You understand perfectly right,' she replied, smiling and appearing quite bold.—'It is no disgrace to a female to be a good servant, is it, Sir?'

'Very far from it,' he replied, smiling at her impertinence.

'Now, you talk like a gentleman as you appear to be upon the outside,' she said.—'But really, Sir, I don't know why I have the pleasure of conversing with so good a looking man as you are. I came here to meet another person on business, a man with whom I used to be acquainted in Vermont when I was younger and not quite so large as I am now. Vermont is famous for raising smart girls.'

'I should so, from the specimen I have before me,' he answered, smiling.

'My thanks for the compliment,' she replied, smiling, and courtesying.

'You say you expected to meet another person instead of me,' he replied. 'True, you did, but I am authorised to act in his place. In fact, I am equally as much interested as he is. I suppose you feel a solitude for the welfare of your sex.'

'O, certainly, Sir.' she answered. 'I surely ought thus to feel when so many of your sex abuse us.'

'To be frank with you, we are in search of a half Indian maiden who has been stolen and forcibly dragged away from her forest-home, and the protector of her father. And we have some reason to suspect that she may be concealed in the house where you officiate as a servant. The girl is very beautiful and innocent, and we are exceedingly anxious to restore her to her father, and have him punished who has thus conveyed her from all she holds dear on earth.'

'The young man ought to be punished who commits such outrages upon our sex,' she replied, assuming a very wise look, and gazing out of the window as if she saw some one passing of her acquaintance, or affected a kind of indifference.

'Does such a maiden a I have described reside in the house where you do?' he asked, marking well the peculiar expressions of her fat, round face, and gazing directly into her large blue eyes.

'Well, Sir, that question cannot be answered until some other matters are previously arranged,' she replied, smiling. 'I have to work for my living, and money comes hard.'

'We are willing to pay you for any information you may give us that may lead to the discovery of the lost maiden and her restoration to her father's arms.'

'That sounds well in words, but how much are you willing to give?' she asked

'I do not wish to be penurious in the matter, and will give you this,' handing her a twenty dollar bank note.'

She took the money, held it between her fingers, looked at it, smiled, and then gave it back to him. He at once saw that she was disposed to practice extortion.

'You seem to think that is not enough, he continued. 'I consider it a very generous reward for the uttering of a few words.—Besides, you are a woman, and must feel anxious to restore your sex to freedom who is now in bondage.

'I am a woman, and obliged to labor hard, but you're rich, and have great pay as an officer I judge from your dress. You can afford to give me a hundred dollars.'

'You must permit me to say that I consider your demand exorbitant ,' he replied.

'Very well, Sir; then no more perhaps, need be said about it,' she answered, turning on her heel, and acting as if she were about to depart.

He had studied well her character during this brief interview, and was quite certain she would not even re use at last what he had offered her, but he thought he would add a ten dollar note.

'I will give you ten dollars more,' he said 'And there I must stop.'

'Well, Sir, you can stop there if you please, and can go home,' she answered.

'So much money don't grow on every bush,' he said. 'Besides, you must understand that if we suspect a female has been abducted and concealed in that house, the law gives us the right of entering that house and searching for her. And I'm not sure but that will be our best course after all. On reflection I think it will. I told Victor Gravel so, but he said I had better consult with you, as he had made an agreement to that effect. Thus stands the affair, and you can now take what I have offered you, or we will go immediately with an officer and search the house.'

She began to fear she might not get what he had offered her if she parleyed much longer with him. There was evidently a change in her countenance, and he marked it well. The Major was a shrewd observer, and generally judged correctly.

'You see how I am situated, Sir,' she replied, after some hesitancy. 'I have a good place in that house and do not wish to lose it; but if I reveal any of the secrets of the establishment I may be driven away to seek employment elsewhere. Besides, Sir I must not tarry here much longer: I fear I have now over-stayed my time. If I should disclose any thing I trust you will not expose me in the affair.'

'Certainly not,' he replied. 'You may rely upon my honor.'

'The girl you seek is confined in that house and a young man also stays and does not go even out,' she said. 'She's a most beautiful, dark-colored girl, and I have supposed she might be part Indian. The fellow is raving and distracts' in love with her; but she refuses to have any thing to say to him. She appears to be much grieved, and is silent and thoughtful. She was brought there by two men some days ago at midnight. And the young man came soon after. He had been at the house a few hours before and engaged rooms. Now you have all the facts, and I will take the money.'

'The house is not a very respectable one, I presume,' he said, giving her the money.

'Quite respectable of the kind,' she replied, smiling, and thrusting the money into her pocket. 'A woman larger than I am keeps the house, and I can assure you she will never be hung for her piety.'

'And don't you have some misgivings in being a door-keeper in such a house?' he asked.

'I don't know what I think,' she replied, casting her eyes upon the floor, and appearing to be serious and thoughtful.

'Let me advise you to quit that house before you're a week older,' he said. 'You have good health and strength and can find more respectable employment. The money I have given you will sustain you until you can get a good place. Leave that den of iniquity, for its atmosphere is corrupting.—Go back to your native hills in Vermont, and live out with some farmer's wife, and in good time perhaps, you may become the happy wife of a happy husband.'

She was silent and thoughtful for some minutes. At last she raised her eyes from the floor, and said, in a tremulous voice, 'I was never a wife, but I have been a mother.'

'Alas!' replied the Major. 'I'm sorry to hear it.'

'My child is dead, and its father has become a poor drunken devil,' she replied—'Excuse me for speaking such language. When I think of him I'm always angered. He deceived me, and through his vile arts and false promises I lost my character. But he has become more miserable than I am, and in that I find some consolation. I will reflect upon what you have said. Heaven knows I wish to be differently situated.'

'Here, take this, and do as I have advised you,' he said, giving her a doubloon.

She took the gold coin and passed out.—The Major thought she was one of the most singular women he had ever met. Although he knew how hard it is for a woman to rise again who has once fallen, yet he did indulge strong hopes in this girl's case. She had told him the truth, for the young Captain had engaged rooms at that house, and Therese Corneille was confined in them. At the very time Major Rockwell was holding his interview with Sally Smith, Dashford was closeted with the Indian maiden, and endeavoring to make her forget all her father's lessons and yield to his wishes. thus far he had found her invincible. She could not be moved or persuaded by threats or entreaties. Sometimes his patience was almost exhausted, and he would threaten to convey her across the ocean into distant countries. He sat beside her, coaxed, entreated and threatened her, but she still remained unyielding.

'You know, Therese, I love you,' he said, endeavoring to seize her hand.

'Then let me go home to my father,' she replied, suddenly withdrawing her hand from his grasp, and flashing her dark eyes upon him.

'Don't be so very particular, dear Therese,' he said. 'You must never think of seeing your father again, for that is impossible.—He knows not where you are, but yet he knows you are with me.'

'He will find me, and then beware of his vengeance,' she answered. 'You cannot escape him. A thousand Indians will be on your trail, and how terrible would be your death if they find you.'

'If they find me!' he repeated, forcing a smile upon his face. 'That's the thing!—They can't do it. Money will do any thing. I shall see that you do not escape.'

'Money has no power over my Indian friends,' she answered, rising up, and taking a seat in another part of the room, very much against his will and pleasure.

He rose and moved towards her, determined to be a little more severe than he ever had been. He was really provoked with her at the moment, and stepped rather quick towards her. Her eyes were upon him and her Indian blood was excited.

'Advance no farther on the peril of your life!' she exclaimed. 'I am the daughter of Tomus!'

She stood erect, and her eyes flashed with the fire of indignation. He was terrified, and stepped back, looking very much frightened. She was encouraged by the effects of her movement upon him.

'The man who insults the daughter of the brave Tomus cannot live long!' she continued, fixing her eyes upon him in a burning gaze. 'The pale face will find the In dian maiden strong in defending her virtue Stand back, and let me leave this room, for I now see your object. Death may come, but it shall not find the daughter of Tomus unprepared. The Great Spirit will protect her, and punish the pale face who attempts to touch her! She must leave this room, or one or both must die!'

She advanced towards him, and he retreated towards the door which was not locked, for the key was upon the outside.—She followed him up so closely and assumed such a determined look that he suddenly opened the door and passed out, attempting to turn the key, but before he could do so she suddenly opened the door, and he ran down stairs, as if he was actually afraid she would murder him. He reached the hall below just as Sally Smith entered.

'Quick! quick!' he exclaimed. 'Therese will escape! She has threatened to kill me, and is now coming down stairs!'

His exclamations alarmed the Mistress of the house, and brought her to the scene of action, not however, before Therese appeared in the hall. The maid-servant did not seem to interest herself much in the affair.

'Don't he alarmed,' said she. 'The maiden won't spill your blood.'

'No, not if he lets me alone,' replied. Therese; standing proudly erect and gazing upon him with flashing eyes.

The Mistress at this juncture entered, and asked, 'What's the matter? I can't have such disturbance in my house!'

Then seeing Therese, she continued, apparently surprised. 'Why, Therese, I'm astonished to see you here, and in such a defiant attitude! The Captain dearly loves you, and would even lay down his life to make you happy.'

'Then let him lay it down, for I can be more happy in his absence than in his presence,' replied Therese.

'Nonsense, my dear Therese,' said this vile procuress, coaxingly. 'Be patient, and he will do any thing to make you happy.'

'Then let him send me to my father and my forest-home,' answered Therese. 'I can be patient no longer. The Great Spirit has taught the daughter of Tomus to be bold and resolute as her father. I must not be confined any longer.'

'We do not wish to use any violent measures, but you must not leave this house,' said the Mistress; stamping her foot, and assuming a savage look.

The maid-servant now attempted to pass through the hall into the back part of the house to put away her bonnet and shawl, but the mistress stopped her.

'Take Therese back to her chamber and lock her up until she becomes more rational,' said the Mistress.

The maid's first thought was to refuse and quit the house, for the remarks of the Major were fresh in her recollection, but on reflection she concluded to obey the mistress and whisper something in the ear of Therese that might reconcile her to her confinement. She stepped towards the Indian maiden and mildly asked her to go back to her room.—But Therese obstinately refused, until she said something to her which the others did not hear. Therese then accompanied the maid back to her room. The reader can easily imagine what this maid whispered to her.

'What charm was there in your words that made Therese so willing to go?' asked the mistress, after the maid had returned.

'Yes, I should like to know so that I may use the same charm,' said the Captain.

'O, nothing, but sensible advice,' replied the maid. 'I told her it would be better for her to go quietly back.'

'But why did you whisper your advice?' asked the mistress, being suspicious.

'Oh, there's the charm,' replied the maid, smiling. 'Words spoken in a whisper always seem to be more sincere than when spoken in a loud voice. You know, Captain, that lovers often whisper to each other.'

'Then, perhaps, I had better whisper to her at my next interview,' said Dashford.

'You can try it, if she will let you come near enough to her to whisper in her ear as I did, replied the maid, laughing.

'I have never seen her so bold and resolute as she is this evening,' he said. 'You don't suppose she carries about her person a deadly weapon, do you?'

'Indeed, I cannot say,' replied the maid, smiling in her sleeve at the cowardice of this dandy, who so often boasted of his courage and military prowess. 'These Indians are very sly, I don't think she has any weapon made of iron or steel, but she may have a peculiar poison about her which will kill a person instantly. It is said the Indians nave such a poison in which they dip the ends of their arrows which cause instant death to any one they hit.'

Dashford actually trembled, and for the moment believed he had fortunately escaped a terrible death.

'Fiddle-de-dee!' said the mistress, laughing. 'That's all nonsense. She has no such poison.'

'I don't say she has,' replied the maid, 'I suppose I could find out by whispering to her.'

'I will give you ten dollars if you will find out,' he said.

'Give me the money and I will do so, before the morning dawns,' said the maid.

He gave her the money, and she told him she would give him the information in the morning, and also the poison, if she found any. Upon that the coward rested.

CHAPTER XX

The cunning of a maid-servant. The dread of poison. A good trick successfully played. The lost Indian Maiden is found. The happy meeting between father and daughter.

THE morning came and young Dashford was exceedingly anxious to know what success the maid met with in ascertaining whether Therese kept a deadly poison or not. For the first time the maid was permitted to stay with Therese through the night, and she learned the whole history of the Indian maiden's captivity, how she had been treated and the names of those who assisted Dashford in dragging her from her forest-home. This Smith girl became quite interested in Therese, and rejoiced that there was so bright a prospect of her rescue. Early in the morning Dashford met her before the mistress of the house was up. She was glad of the opportunity of seeing Dashford without the presence of the mistress, for the latter was a shrewd, suspicious character, and not quite so credulous as the young Captain.

'Good morning,' he said. 'What success with my beauty?'

'Well may you say beauty, for she's the most beautiful person I ever saw,' she replied. 'I have read of angels, and I think this maiden approaches very near them, if she is not really one herself. Now, Captain, did'nt she drop down from the clouds? How the people would stare, if you should take her to the theatres, or walk with her on Broadway. Under such circumstances you would excite the envy of every young gentleman in the city. O, what eyes, hair and complexion she has! It seems to me impossible that there is any Indian blood in her veins. More likely she is part Spanish or Italian, if she was born on the earth of mortal parents.'

'She is, indeed, beautiful, and I long for the time to come when I can safely appear in public with her,' he answered. 'But what of the poison? Did you question her in regard to that?'

'To be sure I did most thoroughly, but at first she kept a close mouth upon the subject, and began to despair of ever getting the secret from her. I became satisfied that she carried a phial of most deadly poison with her, but it was a long time before I could make her confess it.'

'And did she confess it?' he anxiously inquired, gazing upon her intently.

'Listen, and you shall hear all. I told her if she would tell me whether she had poison or not, I would assist her to regain her liberty. That pleased her much I then told her I would send word to her father and inform him where he might find her, if she would confess and show me the poison. Her bright eyes sparkled, and her countenance was peculiarly expressive. It seemed to me I never saw, heard, or dreamed of such a beautiful and heavenly expression as there was upon her face; I could not help feeling some sympathy for her, she was so anxious to see her father.'

'And did she at last confess and show you the poison?' he asked, feeling his heart swell with strong emotions.

'Be patient, and you shall hear all,' she answered. 'She still was reluctant, for she was suspicious that you had employed me But I took sides with her and against you for dragging her from her home in the forest—told her you had done very wrong, that your great love for her was the cause of your thus acting. I almost convinced her that your heart was right, and that your sole object was to make her happy. She listened to me with much attention. I advised her to love you and told her that if she would love you that you would one of these days go with her to see her father.'

'And what did she say?' he asked expressing great anxiety, and breathing hard.

'O, she said, she did'nt believe she couldever love you, but on my promise to assist her to escape, she confessed she had a poison, one drop of which would kill you in less than a minute.'

'Gracious heavens!' he exclaimed. 'How narrowly I escaped last evening with my life.'

'Indeed you did,' she replied, concealing a smile at his cowardice. 'If she had been resisted much more, or if you had not retreated, she would have blown the poison through a quill of a porcupine upon you, and you would have died instantly!'

'My God!' he exclaimed. 'How can I obtain that poison from her? Did you see it?'

'O, yes, she showed it to me in a small phial, and said there was enough to kill a thousand men. I took it into my hand, examined it, and then gave it back to her again.'

'If you had kept it and brought it to me I would not begrudge a thousand dollars for it!' he replied.

'That would have been too bad, but I could have done it, and can do it now,' she said. 'What will you give me for the phial?'

'A hundred dollars!' he replied.

'Give me two hundred, and I will bring it to you in less than an hour,' she replied.—'I have no doubt she will let me see it again.'

'I will give you the money when you bring me the poison,' he answered.

'Be patient and say nothing to the mistress of the house,' she said. 'Don't name it to her on any consideration, and I will see what I can do.'

He agreed to it, and she ran to her chamber and got a small vial of liquid which she had expressly prepared for the purpose. She then entered the room of Therese, and told her all the particulars, requesting her to remain quiet, for she expected the arrival of Major Rockwell, her father and others, every moment, to convey her away. She was not long in returning, for she was anxious to give the phial to Dashford and receive her money before the mistress arose.

'Have you got it?' anxiously inquired Dashford.

'Yes, here it is, but she groaned bitterly when she saw me leaving the room with it,' she replied, holding the phial in her hand. 'Now the money and the poison is yours I have no doubt it would sell for twice the money it cost you. Thousands would be glad to be in possession of such a wonderful liquid.'

He counted her out the money, but was rather cautious in touching the phial.

'You need not be afraid of it,' she said 'It is corked tight, and here's a quill through which it may be blown on its errand of death. Uncork the phial, just dip the end of the quill into the liquid, put the other end to your lips and blow away, and it will kill all that stands before it.'

After some hesitation he took the phial and quill and put them in his pocket.

'Now,' said he. 'She can't harm me and I must go and see her.'

'I have no doubt she will be more quiet now the poison is taken from her,' she said. 'I should'nt be surprised if she finally loved you dearly. O, what a happy fellow you may yet be. But say nothing to the mistress, who is now coming down stairs. I will endeavor to make her receive you in better humor, now she is disarmed. No doubt that phial kept her courage up. I think you'll find a great change in her. Say nothing.'

This artful girl now left the room just as the mistress entered, who inquired how the Indian maiden rested. The young man was so full he could not speak at that moment, but gazed wildly about the room.

'You seem to be troubled,' she continued. 'What is the matter? Therese has not killed herself, has she?'

'O, no, the maid says she will be more calm hereafter,' he replied.

'That is my opinion, too,' she said.—'Nothing like perseverance in a young man who is in love. It accomplishes wonders. She who is the hardest to win will always, he the best esteemed. Such charms as she possesses are worth a year's struggle. She will he safe here, and as soon as she forgets her forest-home and the wild notions her father taught her, she will begin to cling to you. And what a happy fellow you must be with such a beautiful wild flower clinging to you! Be patient, and every thing will come round right at last. You say your mother is proud and ambitious, and your sister severe in her moral and religious notions. Be it so. When they come to see such a perfectly beautiful and angelic creature as Therese is, they will not wonder at your choice, but will feel proud to know that you have the most bewitching girl in city or country. I would go up and see her this morning.'

'I was just thinking about it,' he answered. I believe I'll go now.'

He did go, and found Therese sitting at a front window, and looking down into the street. She appeared calm, and her countenance was serene and beautiful.

'Good morning, my dear Therese,' he said, cautiously stepping towards her.

'There, you have come near enough,' she said. 'Stop there. I can hear what you have to say. I desire never to see you any nearer to me.'

O, you would'nt injure me now, if I should approach nearer, would you?' he asked. 'Love can never be satisfied with being at such a distance from its object.'

The young Captain was quite bold now he supposed the deadly poison had been taken from her. He kept gradually nearing her, and fondly gazing at her.

'Stay where you are!' she exclaimed, in a very earnest manner. 'You must come no nearer to me, if you value your own life!'

He was at first startled at her commanding voice and manner, but he soon recovered from the embarrassment into which her exclamation had thrown him.

'You have no poison now and cannot kill he replied, stepping towards her.

'Do you suppose an Indian maiden has but one phial of the poison?' She asked. 'The red man always has more than one arrow.'

He started back, and looked wild. She knew us weak point, and directed her forces to it. The time had passed when she feared him. The door-bell below now rang and summoned the maid-servant to the door.—She could guess who were coming thus early in the morning. Major Rockwell, Tomus, Victor Gravel, Hugh Fitzgerald and an officer entered. She affected much surprise and informed the mistress that five large men had entered the house. The mistress soon found them.

'We have come rather early even for a morning call, but I trust you will excuse us as our business is of much importance,' said Major Rockwell Tomus stood behind the others and she did not at first discover him; if she had she would at once understood their errand to her house.

'And pray, Sir, what is your very important business?' she asked.

'We have come in pursuit of a young man and an Indian maiden whom we suspect are concealed under this roof,' replied Major Rockwell.

'Well, Sir, your suspicions have no foundation in truth, she replied. 'I don't keep Indians in my house, I can assure you.'

'There's one here I'm sure,' said Tomus, stepping forward, and showing his manly form and dark countenance. 'It is my daughter we are in search of, and we believe she is here.'

'And what reasons have you for such a belief?' she asked.

'I think I saw her at a window above, some days ago,' replied Gravel.

'Yes, Madam, it will be weel for ye to confess the truth and quietly give up the bonnie lassie,' said Hugh. 'She's a sweet wild-flower, and we must have her, for we've ganged a far gait to find her.'

'Then you will have to gang farther before you find her, for there's no such person here.'

Her servant-maid now stepped forward and confronted her, much to the surprise of all present. Rockwell was pleased with her movement and began to suspect she was about to follow his advice and quit that house.

'You state that which is false!' said the maid, addressing the mistress in a very emphatic manner. 'That Indian maiden is here, and I will show the gentlemen the room in which she now is.'

'What a liar!' exclaimed the mistress, seeing at once that she was betrayed.' Leave my house instantly!'

'I will leave it forever, after I have shown this son of the forest his long lost and abused daughter,' replied the maid. Come, follow me.'

'Stir not an inch except out of my doors!' exclaimed the enraged mistress.

'Follow me, gentlemen, and do not mind what that vile woman says,' answered the maid, leading the way up stairs, followed by Tomus, the Major and the officer, while Victor and Hugh detained the mistress be- low. She attempted to follow her maid, but Victor took her by the arm, and said.—'Be calm and patient. You must keep me company for the present. You are a very fat woman, but I think a Vermonter can hold you.'

'Away, you wretch, and not hold me here?' she exclaimed, struggling to release herself from his grasp. But his muscular strength was too much for her. He held her fast, and the Scotchman laughed heartily at the exhibition.

'That is the door and the key is upon the outside,' said the maid, pointing to the door of the room occupied by Therese and Dashford, and addressing the overjoyed Tomus! 'Enter, and embrace your long lost daughter.'

Nothing daunted, Tomus opened the door and rushed into the room. His daughter bounded towards him with the fleetness of the deer, and clung around his neck as the tender vine clings to the sturdy oak.

'Stand off, or I will poison you!' exclaimed Dashford, uncorking the phial, and placing the quill between his lips. 'Leave the rooms, or death will be your portion.

Tomus was too much taken up with his daughter to heed the exclamations of the young Captain. The maid-servant now entered and shook her sides with laughing at Dashford with the quill in his mouth and the phial in his hand. He stood in the middle of the room, wild and trembling.

'Now, Captain, don't kill us all at once with your powerful quill and the phial of molasses and water,' said Miss Smith, laughing as if she would burst.

'Molasses and water!' he repeated, gazing wildly upon her.

'Yes, you, coward, that's the mixture which frightened you so,' she replied. 'Give it me, and I will drink the terrible poison, for I prepared it, and know it would not injure an infant, but it is enough to scare you to death.'

'Good heavens!' he exclaimed. 'Have I been thus cheated out of my money!'

'Yes, and frightened out of your wits into the bargain,' she answered; still laughing.

During the above dialogue between the cunning maid and cowardly Captain, Tomus stood bending over his daughter, and enjoying that pleasure which a father only can feel under similar circumstances. At last the stalwart Indian rose up, and gazed with feelings that cannot be described upon the trembling Dashford. But for the advice Major Rockwell had previously given Tomus, he would have slain Dashford on the spot, and sought his revenge.

'Miserable coward!' said Tomus, holding his daughter with one hand and raising the other towards. Dashford, 'I will not take your life, because that good pale face has requested me not to do so. But be cautious how you enter the forests again. If I catch you there, a thousand fagots shall burn round your body and the flesh shall be burnt from your bones!'

'Let the coward live, dear father, he dared not touch me,' said Therese.

'You're a deserter from the American army, I believe,' said Major Rockwell, smiling.

'O, spare me!' exclaimed Dashford, dropping upon his knees, and trembling in every muscle as if he would shake into a thousand pieces.

'Deserters are usually shot,' replied the Major.

'O, God!' shrieked the poltroon. 'Don't let me be shot! I will give money! do any thing! O, spare me, from such a terrible fate!'

'How do you suppose the Invincibles can manage without their Captain?' asked the Major, smiling. 'Come, be calm. The army can get along without your services.—And I don't think the General will have you shot.'

'O, Major, may God bless you for speaking those words!' replied Dashford, rising from his humble posture, and approaching the Major in an imploring manner.

'The Captain seems to dread death from poison and guns more than from any other instruments,' said Miss Smith, laughing.

Dashford looked daggers at her, but made no other reply. Therese had a gold chain about her neck which Dashford had given her, Tomus took it off, and holding it in his hand, said,—'My daughter cannot wear this.'

'I don't wish to wear it,' said Therese, pointing to the maid. 'Give it to her, for she has been a good friend to me.'

'Take it,' said Tomus, throwing it round her fat neck, and frowning upon Dashford.

'Admirable!' said Rockwell. She deserves it, and more too.'

'A thousand thanks,' said the maid, looking at the ornament and smiling. Then turning to the trembling Dashford, she continued,—'You can now go and see your anxious mother.'

The Major laughed, and they went down to the hall below, where Victor and Hugh held the mistress at bay. The Major thought it best to let Dashford go. Perhaps the Captain was indebted for that clemency to the peculiar feelings the Major had for the beautiful and intelligent sister. All left the house except Dashford.

CHAPTER XXI

Anxiety about the young Captain continues. The old hunter in strange company.

'IT is one of the strangest things in the world that Edwin does not come home or write,' said Mrs. Dashford to her daughter Emily.

'It is rather singular, but then Edwin is very romantic in his notions and, I fear, not so moral in his conduct as he ought to be,' replied Emily.

The door-bell now rang and the maid entered the room and said a rough-looking old man was at the door and desired to speak with Mrs. Dashford.

'Let him come in,' said Mrs. Dashford 'Perhaps he has news from Edwin.'

Job Bellows now entered the parlor with his cap in his hand, and stood before them.

'I'm rather rough-looking to enter such a nice room as this, and to meet such ladies as you appear to be,' said Bellows. 'But my heart's in the right place. Do I have the pleasure of talking with the mother of Captain Dashford?'

'I am his mother' replied Mrs. Dashford, gazing wildly upon him.

'God bless the young man and his good mother too,' he replied. 'I always liked the Captain ever since I first got acquainted with him.'

'Do you know where he is?' anxiously inquired the mother. 'Speak, and relieve a mother's troubled heart!'

'Indeed, I do not,' he replied. 'I came here to seek him. There's a little affair of business between him and me as yet unsettled. However, it would not take long to settle it if he were here, and had the money in his pocket.'

'Money!' repeated Emily 'Does he owe you money, Sir?'

'The trifle of five hundred pounds!' he replied, assuming a serious, business look.

'That is no small trifle,' she replied. 'Pray, Sir. For what does he owe you that sum?'

Hard service in the woods, sweet one, and risking my own life to pluck the lovely wild flower for him, and place it in his possession. If you should see that beautiful flower of the forest, you would say I ought to be paid an additional sum for giving your brother possession.'

this city, and all for a few pounds of filthy lucre!' said Emily. 'Shame on such conduct!'

'Great heavens!' exclaimed Jane. 'Is she in this city?'

'Indeed, she is; and she and Captain Dashford have been weeks in the same room,' he replied. But I understand she don't fancy him, although he adores her, and has made her many beautiful presents.'

'O, heavens, I shall die!' exclaimed Jane, sinking back upon the sofa, and turning her eyes upward as if she were in a fit.

'O, I would'nt die here now, young woman,' he said. 'The young Captain ain't with her now, for she has been restored to her father. But I must be going, and will call again, if I don't meet the Captain, elsewhere.'

'Is he in the city?' anxiously inquired Jane.

'He is, or was this morning, but it's no use of seeing him, until the image of that angel is blotted out from his heart,' replied Bellows smiling, and taking his leave.

CHAPTER XXII

Burglarious thoughts. The lost Captain not yet found. An hunter's opinion of women. An exciting interview. The two female friend's anxiety to see the Indian maiden.

JOB BELLOWS surveyed well the widow Dashford's house before he left it, and surveyed it too with the eye of a burglar. He had a great penchant for silver ware, and noticed a closet in which were deposited several of those precious articles. He repaired to a room which he and Michael Quin had .

'I wish we had driven him harder for our money,' said Quin. 'The young rascal may have left the city. We must be after looking him up, but not expose ourselves too much. I fear that Major Rockwell.'

'And I have some fear of Tomus,' said Bellows. 'If he should happen to meet me, I might feel an Indian's revenge.'

'By all the saints!' exclaimed Quin, looking through the window into the street. 'As I'm a live Irishman, there goes Tomus, his daughter, and Major Rockwell. I wish they would leave the city.'

'Not more than I do,' replied Bellows, gazing upon them as they slowly passed along. 'The Major is showing them the city this afternoon. The maiden has not before had any chance to see the wonders of the place.'

'I think you told me that Captain Dashford could not have taken you alone,' said Major Rockwell, addressing Therese, and smiling.

'No, indeed,' she replied. 'I could have beaten off two such cowards. But that Job Bellows is a rough, hold man, and the Irishman was full of action.'

'Let me see Bellows, that's all,' said Tomus; his eyes sparkling, and his chest heaving with violent emotions.

As they were passing along, and conversing upon a variety of subjects, they met Jane Canfield, She had been spending the greater portion of the day with Mrs. Dashford, and was very unhappy, as the reader well knows. Major Rockwell recognized her red hair at a glance, which she usually wore in long slender curls over her cheeks. She, too, recognized the Major, but she looked at him but a moment, for her eyes were immediately turned upon the Indian maiden. Being so much bewildered with the extraordinary beauty of Therese, and distracted with the emotions it excited in her sensitive heart, she stood still, and gazed upon them as they were approaching. The Major understood the nature of her surprise; but the others thought it strange that so fashionably dressed young lady should stop in the street and gaze upon them so intently.

'Your very humble servant,' said Rockwell bowing, and addressing Miss Canfield. She barely returned the compliment in words but kept her eyes fastened on Therese The Major introduced her to Tomus and, his daughter, and that added to her embarrassment and surprise. She hardly knew what to do or say. Only her hair retained its natural hue, for her face presented a variety of colors.

'I hope, Miss Canfield, you and your lover will now enjoy each other's society as you were won't before young Dashford had the folly to enter the army,' said the Major, in a pleasant voice, and bland manner. 'True, he has been very wild and full of romantic notions, but I trust he will hereafter be more sober, and act a more rational part than he has for the last few weeks.'

'O, heavens, is this the Indian maiden who has wrung my heart with such agony?' asked Jane; her eyes wildly rolling, and her heart beating.

'The very same, but I trust you attach no blame to her,' replied Rockwell.

'O, I don't know whom I ought to blame!' she answered, in a voice full of trembling. 'I'm a most unhappy girl! Can you tell me where Captain Dashford is? I want to see him! perhaps he can explain all, but I fear the worst.'

'You must hope for the best, young lady, said Therese. 'We know not where he is, but I rejoice that I am rescued from his power. He's too much of a coward ever to do much harm in the world. To me he has behaved like a coward and a villain. Sometimes I seriously thought I would kill him, but I'm now glad I did not, for he may live to make you happy.'

'O, I fear he has left the city and will never return!' answered the agitated Jane.

'Then rejoice, that you have got rid of such a coward and villain,' said Tomus. 'It my daughter had killed him, she would have done right. Lucky for him that I did not find him in the forest.'

'O, God, what shall I do?' asked the almost frantic Jane, turning away and walking back to Mrs. Dashford's with all the speed she could make. She hurried into the house almost out of breath.

'What is the matter?' asked Mrs. Dashford. 'Have you seen Edwin? Speak!'

But Jane was so overcome with running, and her emotions that she could not speak, but stood like a statue of despair. The widow was all anxiety and trembled in every joint, for she feared that her son was dead!

'Be calm, and tell us, what is the matter,' said Emily. 'Your looks are enough to frighten a philosopher.'

'I have seen her!' exclaimed the bewildered Jane.

'Seen who?' calmly asked Emily. 'Collect your scattered thoughts and speak rationally.'

'The Indian maiden Edwin loved so much,' answered Jane.

'Is that all?' inquired Emily, smiling.—'Why, I could see a thousand Indian girls and not be moved in the least degree. When did you see her?'

'Met her in the street with Major Rockwell and her father,' replied Jane.

'Met her in the street!' repeated the trembling mother. 'How did the creature look? Is she very black and swarthy?'

'I felt so I could hardly tell,' replied Jane.

'Her hair is very dark and glossy, is it not?' asked Emily, assuming rather an arch look, and gazing upon Jane's fiery curls.

'I did'nt mind her hair,' replied Jane. 'Who would think of looking at an Indian's hair? I thought Major Rockwell appeared to be much pleased with her, for he stood close at her side. I should'nt wonder if he loved her! Some men have strange tastes.'

'You know. Jane, there's no accounting for tastes,' answered Emily, resolved not to be disturbed by Jane's insinuations. 'No doubt the Indian maiden is extremely beautiful; and gentlemen, are generally pleased with female beauty.'

Emily now left Jane and her mother to console each other, and sought her friend and companion, Harriett Melville. She found Harriett, as usual, plying her needle, and occasionally writing down those thoughts that occurred to her while she was at her daily labor. Miss Melville always kept writing materials near her work-table, and whenever an idea occurred to her which she esteemed note-worthy she recorded it in a scrap-book for future use. Her mind was highly cultivated, although she never possessed any advantages for acquiring an education. But she never wasted any time, but improved all her waking hours either in plying her needle, reading or writing In this way she had not only become an adept in the use of her needle, but also an intelligent and pleasing writer. Miss Melville's example was worthy of all imitation. And if female operatives took the same course she did they would be by far the most intelligent portion of the community, throwing the higher ranks quite into the back-ground and taking the lead in society.

'Hard at your work,' said Emily, as she entered the room where her friend was a her daily labor. 'I feel ashamed of myself that I do so little while you do so much.'

'There's no necessity for you to work, for you have enough of this world's goods,' replied Harriett.

'That is no reason why I should not be industrious,' said Emily. 'I ought to do something for the world before I leave it, besides eating and wearing what others have manufactured. I ought to leave my work here, that the world may know that I have once lived.'

'I'm sure you are very industrious,' said Harriett. 'I know of no person in your condition who does half as much as you do.'

'Sometimes I think I am quite industrious, but when I see how much you do, I feel as if I was almost a drone in this great hive of industry.' replied Emily. 'By the way, I have just had an interview with Jane Canfield, and she has seen the Indian maiden who has given her so much trouble.'

'Has she, indeed?' said Miss Melville.—'I should admire to see that famous girl. Can we not contrive some way to have an interview with her? It seems to me you might get an introduction to her with the aid of Major Rockwell. Surely the Major would most cheerfully lend his assistance to you, if he would not to any other person in the world.'

Emily actually blushed, and remained silent, for she knew not what to say at that moment. The tell-tale blood was on her cheeks in spite of her self-control.

'Ah, Emily, you're in for it at last, and with a military officer, too,' continued Harriett, smiling. 'But you are deeper in than he is I reckon.'

'Well, he's opposed to war as much as you and I are,' replied Emily.

'You need'nt make any apologies to me,' said Harriett, laughing. 'I consider Major Rockwell a most agreeable, intelligent—worthy man, and if all our military heroes were like him, war would be shorn of mere than half its enormities. What I have seen of him gives me very favorable impressions I commend your choice.'

'Commend my choice!' repeated Emily, while the red brood found its way to her cheeks, and her heart beat with strange emotions. 'You are disposed to joke today.'

'Well, well, let that pass,' said Harriett. 'We shall see what we shall see. 'Now, I'm really anxious to see that Indian maiden, and hope you will make such arrangements with the gallant Major as shall insure an interview.'

'I will do so,' replied Emily. 'You can't imagine what a time Jane Canfield has. She solemnly protests her heart will break.'

'The hearts of such seldom break,' answered Harriett, smiling. 'Those who talk so much about their heart's breaking are generally pretty tough. I should not be afraid to insure the young lady against such a calamity at a very small premium.'

We have not space to record all the sayings of these intelligent girls. Before Emily took her leave, it was fully agreed that the earliest opportunity should be taken to obtain an interview with the Indian maiden, lest she might depart for her home in the forest.

CHAPTER XXIII

The moral courage necessary to make a proposal. A military gentleman in love. The great change such a new-born feeling makes. Domestic bliss at the widow Dashford's.

No person except the father himself was better pleased with the rescue of Therese from the hands of villains than Major Rockwell, and he was scarcely less pleased with the idea of Sally Smith's apparent reformation. She had played some very clever tricks and put the needful in her pocket.

Major Rockwell began to feel as if his life would be rather dark and gloomy without the society of Emily Dashford. His first interview with her, gave him impressions which, with all his moral courage and firmness, he could not shake off. At first, he could not believe he was really in love, but a few days' reflection upon the subject, convinced him that he was at last overtaken and must like other men kneel before the shrine of beauty. The next day after Jane Canfield saw him in the street in company with Tomus and Therese, he was found at the widow Dashford's. He was greatly surprised at the change which had come over this woman. She had been taught very severe lessons in the school of affliction—lessons that opened her eyes to many of the follies of the world, and especially to the vanity, pride, and ambition of her own heart. Such a change was a great consolation to her daughter, Emily, who had struggled so hard to make her mother look at this world through a proper medium. For years this daughter had been thus engaged, and now she had the pleasure and satisfaction of witnessing the reformation she so much desired. When the Major called, the mother happened to be out. He did not particularly regret that circumstance, for his heart was full, and needed to be unburdened.

'O, Major, I'm so glad to see you,' said Emily, as he entered the parlor.

'Not more glad than I am to see you,' he replied, smiling.

'Excuse me, Major, for expressing myself so warmly,' she said, blushing, and feeling as if he might not understand why she expressed so much joy. 'But, I saw Miss Melville yesterday, and we concluded we should admire to have an interview with the Indian maiden about whom so much has been said, and I agreed to ask your assistance to bring about that event at the most early convenient opportunity.'

'I shall be most happy to introduce you and Miss Melville to that flower of the forest, he replied. 'She is, indeed, an extraordinary girl, both as to her physical charms and her intellectual brightness.'

'From your expressions one might be led to the conclusion that you were very much smitten with her charms,' she replied, looking at him rather archly.

'I can't say what might have happened, had it not been for one circumstance,' he answered.

'And pray, Major, what is that?' she inquired, wondering what he could mean.

'The circumstance of my meeting with you,' he replied, smiling, and taking her hand.

Emily Dashford blushed, and could not find words for a reply. She did not withdraw her hand from his but let it remain.

'Emily,' he continued, in a mild, pleasant voice. 'I have been engaged in several battles, and some fearful and appalling ones that made my heart bleed for the outrages and cruelties of war, but I confess, I have never felt the want of moral courage so much as I do at this present moment. I have passed through many scenes in the course of my life, seen much of the world, its pleasures and its follies, and been introduced to ladies in almost every State of our Union, but until I met you, I believed I should die, as I have lived, a confirmed bachelor. I now offer you my hand and my heart.'

Mrs. Dashford now returned home, and entered the room. She addressed the Major very courteously and appeared more calm than usual and much more resigned to her fate. She was anxious to see her son, for she now felt as if she had given him much erroneous advice and wished to do something to atone for her errors.

'You have heard nothing from my son, have you, Major?' she inquired.

'Not a word, Madam,' he replied. 'I have made many inquiries, and Victor Gravel and Hugh Fitzgerald are now engaged in endeavoring to find him.'

'Do you think I shall ever see him again?' anxiously inquired the mother.

'I am of opinion that he will show himself when the sense of shame shall be somewhat diminished,' he answered. 'He feels as if he had been most unlucky in his military and love enterprises.'

'Well he may feel so,' replied Emily.—'If experience is as good a schoolmaster as it is represented to be, it seems to me it must have taught him many severe but profitable lessons. If he would but reform and become what he might be, it would give me great joy; I do occasionally indulge some hope.'

'O, Major Rockwell,' said the mother; if I had given my son as good advice as Emily did, Edwin might have now been with us and all this trouble saved, but I confess I was led into error by a combination of circumstances , and anxious to behold my son a military hero. I now see my error and am anxious to atone for it.'

'Mother, I have asked the Major to introduce the Indian maiden to me,' said Emily.

Should you have any objections to seeing her?

'Not now, for she has proved herself a virtuous girl,' replied the mother. 'My son has done her much injury, and pained the heart of her father. I have been thinking I should ask the Major to invite her and her father here. I do not feel willing to have her return to the forest until I have seen her made her some presents.'

'O, heavens, I rejoice to hear you thus talk, my dear mother,' exclaimed Emily. 'It makes my heart leap for joy! I hope you will invite them here. I should admire to hear the story of their lives.'

'I asked Tomus to give me a history of his life, and of his wife's, and he promised to do so,' said the Major. 'Tomus told me that his daughter was ignorant of her mother's history. She knows she was a French woman, but why she became his wife, and the circumstances attending that event remain a secret in his own breast. He has often told his daughter that he would at some future time give her a history of her mother so far as he had any knowledge of it.'

'O, I hope you will induce him to tell his story here!' said Emily.

'I should be pleased to have Tomus and his daughter come and visit me,' said Mrs. Dashford. 'And I hope you will invite them.'

'I will do so, with the greatest pleasure, and have no doubt they will come,' replied the Major. 'He is a noble Indian, and his daughter one of the most lovely and beautiful girls to be found in the country. She has but a very little of the Indian look.—True, her complexion is a brunette, and her hair exceedingly long and dark. I'm not surprised that your son formed a romantic attachment for her, but he was very foolish in attempting to force her to love him. It is a wonder she had not murdered him, but a good Providence prevented such a sad catastrophe.'

'If murder can be justified under any circumstances, she would have been justified in taking the life of Edwin,' said Emily.—'But heaven bless her for not committing such a rash deed.'

'O, he behaved very ill, but I hope he will live to repent and reform,' said the widow while the tears started from her eyes and coursed down her cheeks.

Such tears she had not been in the habit of shedding, but they now gave relief to her penitent heart. The Major made a most happy visit, and took his leave, promising to invite the Indian maiden and her father to call upon the widow and her daughter. He had removed a great burden from his heart and breathed more freely.

'Dear mother, this is one of the happiest moments of my life,' said Emily, after the Major had politely taken his leave.

'I suppose you have become very much attached to Major Rockwell, and he appears very fond of you,' replied the mother.

'Why, mother, you mistake me!' said the daughter, blushing. 'I did not once think of the Major when I spoke of this moment being a happy one to me. You are the cause of my rejoicing, and not Major Rockwell. I rejoice because you have so much changed your views of human life. Thank heaven, you now see things in their true light, and do not view them in the glare of military glory. No doubt your motives were good when you so strongly advised Edwin to join the American army. You believed such a course would give him fame and reputation in the world; but now you see the emptiness of such things when compared with sound morals and a useful character. Would to heaven, Edwin might soon return and receive a mother's advice! He may come, and who knows but his brief experience may have wrought a great change in him? If it has, his experience has not been purchased at too dear a rate.

'I have been thinking, Edwin never really loved Jane,' said the mother.

'I'm quite certain he never did, but he has had great affection for Miss Melville, and I should'nt be surprised if he loved her still,' replied this good girl. 'Harriett was his first love, and that is not easily forgotten. True, he is very romantic and wild in his notions of love, but after all, I believe he has never forgotten Miss Melville nor ceased to love her.'

'And do you think Harriett loves him now?' asked the mother.

'That question is more than I can answer,' replied Emily. 'If Edwin had conducted himself properly she would have reciprocated his affection and continued to do so; but whether his wild and highly reprehensible conduct has blotted out entirely his image from her heart, is more than I know. No doubt, she has strong wishes for his repentance and information, and would rejoice to see him a Letter person.'

Thus mother and daughter conversed, and agreed better than they ever had before.—Emily was happy, and there was but one draw-back upon her enjoyment. If her brother would return, and repent of all his follies and iniquities and become a useful man, her earthly cup of joy would be full and running over.

CHAPTER XXIV

The robbery. Rogues love darkness. The storm at midnight. Steps in crime easily taken. The arrest of vile women. The influence of bad examples. Love at first sight.

I SURVEYED well the premises this morning,' said Job Bellows to his companion, Michael Quin, just as the city clocks told the solemn midnight hour.

'And ye think we can get in on the backside of the store,' replied Quin.

'No doubt of it,' said Bellows, leading the way between the buildings, and looking cautiously in every direction, lest some watchmen might be on that beat.

'By the powers, how it rains!' whispered Quin, shrugging up his shoulders, and drawing his coat tight about him.

'An excellent time for our business,' replied Bellows. 'The watchmen are under the shelter of some buildings and the streets quite empty of footpads. I think we shall not find much money, but then there are some good garments.'

'And I wish I had one over my shoulders now,' said Quin, following close upon the heels of his companion, and cringing under the descending rain which came down in large drops.

It was a stormy night, and the wind swept over the city and through the streets with much violence. No pedestrians were abroad and the rattling of but few carriages were heard. The watchmen, as Bellows said, sought shelter under the lea of some buildings, and let the thieves and robbers have their own way without molestation They proceeded on through a narrow passage, and finally effected an entrance to a clothing store through a back window.

'By St. Patrick!' whispered Quin. 'I is dark as a pocket here. The divil may help me to tell what I get hold of.'

'Feel for the garments made of the finest cloth for we can't carry off all there is here,' said Job. 'Run your thumb and finger over the garments and take the best. I aways go for the finest fur.'

'Aisy, aisy!' whispered Quin. 'I hear the sound of foot-falls on the sidewalk!'

For a moment they ceased their operations and stood listening. Some one was travelling past.

'He has gone by,' said Bellows. 'Come load up as soon as possible. The shower abates, and the cursed watchmen may be on their beat again.'

For a short time they worked sharply and made the best selection they could. They carried away to their own room a number of very valuable garments, without being troubled by watchmen or any one else. They were much pleased with the result of their depredations, but Bellows was not satisfied in full.

'We have made a good haul, but have left more than we have brought away,' said Bellows. 'If another shower come up, we might make another turn.'

'You seldom have much fur behind,' said Quin, smiling.

Packing the stolen garments under the floor, these villains slept out the remainder of the night as quietly as if they had the day previous been engaged in honest labor. Their consciences were seared as with a hot iron, and its stings were blunted by a long course of wickedness. The morning came, and they read the account of the robbery in the papers, and smiled at each other. They felt safe.

'No clue to the robbers,' said Bellows, reading a penny paper which contained an account of the depredation. 'No, I guess they won't have at present. We did that job up in good style.'

'But we must keep the garments concealed for weeks to come,' replied Quin. A 'few such strikes would soon replenish our pockets.'

'Speaking of that, reminds me of that dandy Captain who owes us so much,' said Bellows. 'I wish we could cross the track of the young rascal and get on his trail.'

'I fear he's too cunning for us,' answered Quin. 'Having lost his beloved Indian girl, he don't care now much about us.'

'It is strange where the fellow is,' said Bellows. But we must try his mother' establishment one of these dark, stormy evenings. She has much silver-ware, and I know the closet that holds it. I think we can make an entrance into that house.'

'I know every hole and corner in it, unless it is much changed since I used to be a servant there,' said Quin. 'There's backloads of silver, and I should like to be after carrying one of them on my shoulders.'

Thus conversed these villains in their own room, where they passed a greater portion of their time during the day, lest they might be discovered and recognized, and their nights were spent in gambling and robbing They had become experts in their profession. Quin appeared abroad but little in the day time, but Bellows was more bold, and feared none so much as he did Tomus and Major Rockwell. If he could be assured that they had left the city, he would feel much more at liberty than he did, for he was a stranger in the city, while Quin had been an old resident. Occasionally, Bellows called at the house where the Indian maiden had been imprisoned for the purpose of inquiring after young Dashford, but as yet he could hear nothing from him. The next evening after he and Quin robbed the clothing store, he called at the house to make inquiries of the mistress who kept it.

'Have ye seen hide or hair of the Captain, yet?' inquired Bellows.

'Not a word since the day his beloved Indian girl was taken from him,' she replied. 'It is very strange where he can conceal himself.'

'Has he paid ye all up for board and other things?' he asked.

'No, and that's the worst of it,' she replied. 'He gave me his note for two hundred dollars, but no bank or broker will discount it. I believe the young rascal has spent nearly all his fortune; at any rate, the brokers seem to think so.'

'Well, he has not shaved you out of as much as he has me,' replied Bellows.—'The fellow owes me more than five hundred pounds. I supposed he had a great fortune.'

'His father did leave him a large estate, but I'm inclined to think he has wasted all of his portion he could well command,' she answered. 'Money slips through such young men's fingers very easily.'

'True, when they deal with such characters as you are,' replied Bellows, while an arch smile played over his features.

The door-hell now rang and two officers entered, but Bellows made his escape out of a back way, supposing they might be after him. A guilty conscience needs no accuser. The officers were not after him, but arrested the mistress of the establishment and several of its female inmates. She pleaded innocence, and begged to be let alone, offering money to the officers of the law, who, strange to say would not accept any bribe from her hands. This vile procuress and five young girls, whose ages would not average a score of years each, were taken to the lock-up. And if old Bellows had not made his escape, he would probably have been detained as a witness.—This arrest was made at the instigation of Victor Gravel, who was determined to do some good in the city before he departed for the green hills and rich valleys of Vermont. The Scotchman, too, had some hand in the affair; but after all, Sally Smith, it may be fairly presumed, was the first mover in the enterprise.

She rejoiced when Hugh told her that the arrests had been made, and those vile women were in the iron grasp of the law.

'I'm glad of it,' she said. 'For a more vile, and deceitful, wicked woman never breathed the city atmosphere than the keeper of that house. While I was her maid-servant, (may heaven pardon me for such service!) I know of her tempting two young girls who had scarcely reached their teens and leading them from the paths of virtue.—'They were the children of poor drunken parents. Having bad instruction at home and still worse examples placed before them, they the more easily fall victims to her seductive arts.'

'Na punishment can be too severe for vile actions,' replied Hugh Fitzgerald.

'But wicked as I was, and God knows that I was wicked enough, I could not help feeling pity for those young girls.' she said. 'And now my heart bleed for them.'

Where they gude looking lassies?'—asked the Scotchman.

One of them was quite handsome, and the other far from being ugly,' she replied. 'True, they were somewhat dirty and quite ragged when she first decoyed them into her den of iniquity, but she soon made them look quite genteel. You have no idea how soon she transformed them from dirty, ragged girls to genteel young ladies. O, they soon became vile, and would swear like two pirates! In less than a year, they became adepts in every kind of wickedness, and proved a source of profit to her who thus destroyed them!'

'Aweel, aweel,' said Hugh. 'The leddies are either divils or angels, as a gude auld Scotchman used to say when I was a wee bairn. Often hae I heard him make sic a remark. May heaven forgie ye for being door-keeper in sic a house.'

'I say amen to that, and if pardon comes of sincere repentance, then have I good reason to hope for it,' she replied. I shall soon leave this city and go back to my native State, and there endeavor to atone for my past sins by a life of honest industry.—The good advice of that good man, Major Rockwell, I shall follow.'

'And I too shall gang back agin to the Green Mountain State,' said Hugh, gazing upon the fair round face of this singular girl, and admiring her good resolutions.

'And do you expect to live there?' she inquired, feeling quite an interest in his future plans of life, and being pleased with his frankness and honesty.

'Indeed, I do, for I have bought a nice farm close beside Victor Gravel's,' he replied.

'Victor, has not a wife yet, has he?' she asked, smiling.

'Not quite,' he replied, returning his smile. 'Ye canna hae hope of him, for he has a sweetheart.'

'Dear me!' she exclaimed. 'Such a thought never entered my mind! I'm not good enough for him; I have been a wicked girl.'

'Ye may be gude enough for some ither mon,' he said, assuming an expression of countenance that spoke more eloquently than any words he could have uttered. She gazed upon him some time, and his eyes were fastened upon hers. There was a profound silence. Both blushed, and their hearts beat with singular emotions. At last, a pleasant smile took the place of her brushes and a good-natured look, lit up his manly countenance Although they made no more remarks upon that subject; yet both read each other's countenances, and heart seemed is answer to heart. Strange impressions came upon them, but they knew not whence they came, nor whither they would go.—Those who believe in the doctrine of love at first sight, may suppose they felt very much like persons in love with each other.

CHAPTER XXV

The Story of Tomus. The surprise. The strange meeting, and the still stranger developments.

'I'm expecting quite a large company here this evening,' said Mrs. Dashford.

'Who's coming?' asked Jane, feeling great curiosity, and looking wildly about the room.

'Not those who are in the habit of visiting as,' replied Mrs. Dashford. 'I expect Tomus, the Indian hunter, his daughter, Major Rockwell, and some others.'

'The daughter of that Indian!' exclaimed Jane. 'O heavens! what has happened?'

'O, nothing, only common sense has taken the place of folly, and virtue the place of vice,' replied Emily, smiling.

'O, dear, am I dreaming?' asked Jane, rising from the sofa, and rubbing her eyes as if she had just been awakened from a troubled sleep.

Before her question was answered, the door-bell rang, and Major Rockwell entered, accompanied by Tomus, Therese, Hugh Fitzgerald, Sally Smith, and Victor Gravel. Tomus had promised to relate the story of his life, especially that portion of it which included his acquaintance and marriage, according to Indian custom, with the mother of Therese.

Conversation was quite lively for awhile, in which all except Miss Canfield took part. But Mrs. Dashford began to feel impatient to hear Tomus give some passages in his life.

'I really grow impatient to hear Tomus tell the story of his life,' said Mrs. Dashford. 'I wish he would be so kind as to begin it.'

All expressed the same wish, and the Indian hunter commenced:—

'I was born on the west bank of the river Iroqoais, or the St. Lawrence, as the pale faces call it,' said Tomus. 'My parents died when I was about twenty years of age. 'Once, when I was returning from Montreal I met a young woman who accosted me in French and asked me how far it was to Montreal. I told her it was nearly a hundred miles, and the way she was going there was much wilderness in which she would get lost. I saw that she looked as if something was at work in her heart. I think I can find the way, she said. I told her I was sorry she had not come along a few days sooner and I would have piloted her. My kind words seemed to make a deep impression upon her heart.'

'How long ago was that?' anxiously inquired Mrs. Dashford.

'About twenty years,' he replied.

'Gracious heavens!' she exclaimed.—'No, no, it can't be! A strange thought struck me! Go on with your story.'

'I asked the woman, why she wished to go to Montreal and if she had friends there?' continued Tomus. 'O heavens! she exclaimed in much apparent agony. I thought he was more than a friend—a lover, but be proved to be neither. He deceived me—cast me off—turned me away—said he never loved me! And now, my love has turned to hate, as he shall know when he feels this steel piercing his black heart!' And she drew from her besom a handsome dagger, and held it before me, as I now hold the same instrument up before you.'

Here Tomus drew forth a silver-mounted dagger, and held it up to their gaze.

'This is the same instrument, and I have kept it next my heart ever since she died,' he continued.

'But, would you kill him; I asked?—Quick as she would a serpent that crossed her path.

'And did she accompany you to your lodge?' asked Mrs. Dashford.

'She did, and seemed to grow more calm and rational,' replied Tomus. 'Three days passed, or nearly three, before we reached my lodge. Three nights we camped in the wilderness, and on our way I killed some game which seemed to please her much, and draw her mind from him whom she so much hated. After we arrived at my home, on the shore of Lake Chazy, she was highly delighted with the place, and said she liked it better than the city. Gradually her hate against her pretended lover grew less, and the wild sports I taught her, made her forgetin great measure that there was ever murder in her heart. She grew cheerful, and said she never desired to leave that spot.—The Great Spirit decreed that we should love each other, and we did love as sincerely and truly as ever pale faces did. She promised to marry me according to the custom of the red-man, and even expressed a wish to do so on condition that I would never join the British against the Americans. She said she hated she British. I promised body supposed she had drowned herself; for she was much troubled. Do you remember the name of the man she was in search of when you thus fortunately met her?'

'His name was Comstock, a Captain in the British army,' he replied.

'She was my sister!' exclaimed Mrs. Dashford, in a voice that startled them all. 'And may God bless you for thus protecting her!'

The widow immediately rose, and threw her arms round the neck of the agitated Therese, and covered her face with an aunt's warmest kisses Miss Canfield could not endure that spectacle, but shrieked and hastened from the room Emily, also saluted her cousin most affectionately, and kissed the weather-beaten brow of Tomus in token of her appreciation of his virtues. It was a happy meeting for all except for Miss Canfield. Tomus and Therese remained under that roof that night, and Emily rejoiced to see her mother thus acknowledge Therese as her niece .

CHAPTER XXVI

The letter. The lest Captain found. Happy marriages. The grave of Tomus.

'Now, you Irish rogue,' said Job Bellows to Corporal Quin, 'don't be alarmed if we should wake up the women folks after we enter the house; for a few threats of having their throats cut will quiet them. I like to enter houses where there are no men.'

'I will he after doing my duty,' replied Quin. 'But you must do the threatening, for they may know my voice.'

During the above conversation they stood near the house of Mrs. Dashford, fully resolved to enter and carry off her most valuable articles

They proceeded cautiously, and at last reached the closet. Bellows had a large bunch of small keys, and began to try the lock with them, but he found none that would fit exactly. Now came the finish of the game, for the closet was not far from Mrs. Dashford's sleeping apartment, and there was great danger of awakening her in their attempts to break the lock.

At that moment Mrs. Dashford's voice was heard, screaming 'robbers! robbers! watchmen, help!'

'Hold your peace, and be quiet,' growled Bellow, in a coarse, guttural voice. 'Or I will knock your brains out.'

'Murder!' shrieked Mrs. Dashford, in a half suppressed voice, while Quin was employed in emptying the closet of its valuable contents.

'Murder it shall be, unless you stop your infernal noise,' said Bellows.

'Yes, murder, you villain!' shouted Tomus; striking his tomahawk deep into the head of Bellows who groaned, and fell upon the floor a dead man.

Several night watchmen now came, and the dead body was carried away and Quin safely locked up. Tomus was satisfied with his night's work, and in the morning his name appeared in several papers in connection with the account of the whole affair. Soon as Major Rockwell read the account, he was not long in repairing to the widow Dashford's to congratulate the inmates of the house upon the fortunate issue of that bold, and daring robbery. Tomus and Therese remained at the widow's; for Mrs. Dashford nor Emily would consent to let Therese return again to her forest-home. Time passed on, and Victor Gravel and Hugh Fitzgerald, accompanied by Miss Smith, returned to Vermont. It is hardly necessary to inform the reader that Miss Smith soon after their return to the Green Mountain State, became the wife of the brave and good Scotchman, and that Victor Gravel also took to himself a wife. We leave them on small, well-managed productive farms, in the full enjoyment of domestic bliss. Before they left the city, Mrs. Dashford made each of them a generous present, which, with their snug farms, placed them in independent circumstances. Job Bellows was buried, but no stone marked his grave, and Michael Quin was tried, convicted and imprisoned prisoned where he died before the term expired for which he was sentenced. Jane Canfield never left her house after she so unceremoneously left on the evening when Tomus declared who the mother of Therese was, until she was carried to her grave.

Possessing a highly nervous temperament and having been much perplexed and agitated, she was seized with a brain fever which terminated her life in a few weeks.

Major Rockwell returned again to the army, but not, however, before he and Emily land plighted their faith to each other. Before peace was declared they were married, and after the war the Major resigned his commission in the army, and devoted himself to the happiness of his lovely, virtuous, and intelligent wife. Therese lived with them and was the 'observed of all observers.' Six months had passed after the rescue of Therese before any tidings of Edwin Dashford came to the ears of his mother who had given him up for lost. It was generally supposed that he had committed suicide by drowning. But six months after he left the city, Harriett Melville received a letter from him, dated at the Island of Cuba, to which place he sailed in a few days after Therese was taken from him. The letter was very favorable to his state and condition. In it he frankly confessed all his errors, and expressed a strong hope that he had been forgiven. The Indian maiden was not forgotten in the letter, for he expressed strong wishes for her happiness. He acknowledged he was once wild and romantic, but he was now satisfied that he had never truly loved but one, and that was her to whom he wrote. He took with him what funds he could readily command, and entered into the commercial business in which he had been exceedingly fortunate. He spoke of Jane Canfield, and expressed his regret that he had ever addressed her in the character of a lover. He urged Miss Melville to come to Cuba and bring with her his mother and sister on a visit. He enclosed funds to Harriett for that purpose. Admiring his place of residence, he expected to spend his days there, and if Miss Melville was so inclined she might live in that delightful climate too. The letter was very long, and minute in reference to the past, full of confession and repentance, and written with a good deal of ability. None doubted the sincerity of the writer who read it. This letter produced much sensation in the family circle and all were rejoiced to hear such good news of the young Captain Dashford. Major Rockwell was decidedly in favor of visiting that pleasant Island, and no one objected. Harriett Melville answered the letter in the course of a few days and informed him of all that had happened during his absence, and what was better still to him, that all would set sail for Cuba in the course of a few months, or as soon as Major Rockwell could so arrange his business as to leave the city. Therese was delighted with the idea of going on the ocean, and her father did not object. Before they sailed for Cuba, Tomus made a pilgrimage to his wife's grave, on the shore of Lake Chazy, for he said he could never consent to go, until he had performed that service.

In less than three months after Harriett Melville received the letter. She, Mrs. Dashford, Major Rockwell and his wife, Therese and her father, set sail for Cuba, and arrived there in good time. The meeting of the long lost Edwin with his mother and the others we will not undertake to describe. Suffice it to say, it was a happy one. Harriett and Edwin were married, and a rich planter, a most estimable man, fell in love with the beautiful Therese, and their marriage was also celebrated in great splendor. But few such weddings ever took place on that Island, not even among the Spanish nobility. This planter was a French gentleman, and made the lovely Therese one of the best of husbands. She lived in riches and splendor, but never was lifted above the duties which belong to human life. She was kind, benevolent, and charitable to the poor, as well as beautiful and fascinating in the higher circles. Tomus lived too high, and often sighed for his forest-home. But, alas! this noble Indian never again visited the mound that covers the earthly remains of his beloved wife. He was taken with a fever in less than a year after his arrival which all the medical skill of the island could not baffle. He died and a handsome marble monument war erected over his remains, bearing the simple inscription, 'Tomus the Noble Iroquois, the faithful husband, and the kind father.'

THE END

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