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Tous lea autres exempiaiies originaux aont filmte en commenpant par la premlAre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impreaaion ou d'illustratlon et en terminant par la dernlAre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles sulvants apparattra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbols —*' signlfie "A SUIVRE ", le symboie ▼ signifie "FIN". Les cartea, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre fllm6s A des taux de reduction diff^rents. Lorsque ie document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un aeui ciichA, 11 est f limA A partir de i'angle sup6rleur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en baa, en prenant la nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes sulvants illustrent la mAthode. ': i 2 3 1 2 3 ' ' 4 5 6 ^ k. I JAN 10^ THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES ov ^^ •'■ '>- S I M N :'SE E K; on, CANADA IN ALL SHAPES. <^- -\ ■■"*:'•'''> m Si* ■ BY MAPLE KNOT. iMontreal: JOHN LOVELL, PRINTER AND PUBLISHERj M ;v if dTfltonto: WM. C. F. CAVERHILL, BOOKSELLER AND STATIONER, TONGS NIIAR KINO STBEHT. AND FOB SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS THBOUGHOUT CANADA. 1868. pr A" A Entered, according to the Act of the Provincial Parliament, in the year ens thousand eight hundred and fifty-eight, by John Lotei,!., in the oflSce of the Registrar of the Province of Canada. Ci; ' m CONTENTS. id eight Canada. ClUl'TER 1. " 2. 8. 4. 6. 6. 1. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14, 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 26. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. a t( ii ti It i( t( u a It « i( (( i. It II It II ti PA0T5 Lost 5 Found 8 Society versus Poverty 15 The Voice of Conscience 21 New Faces and New Prospocta 27 The Father 8i^ All sorts of Emotions 38 The Departure 44 Across the Atlantic 48 The Arrival and Flight 56 Mr. Kwack's Debut and Exit 64 The Pursuit 72 The Arrival of the Rest 77 The Yankee Agent and Mr. Sorftish 83 Prospects for All ... , 88 Eve of the Twentieth Qi Part of Bolton's Prediction fulfilled 09 The Wanderers in the Forest 104 Mr. Worzcl re-appears and makes a Dochviation 110 The Strange Passion 115 The Great Indian Chief, Chacliinhawclia "acliawa«!i:iga 122 Retrospective and Prospective 130 Which returns to M'Camerou 130 Simon's Double Love 140 The Election 147 Parliamentary and otherwise 158 A Closing Scene and a Revelation 164 The Fugitive's Return 108 The Beginning of the Elnd 172 The End 177 THB LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF SIMON SEEK ; OB, CANADA IN ALL SHAPES. CHAPTER I. LOST. London ! — the Great Highway, and the Em- porium for nil that is good, and great, and wise ; the asylum of vice, and fraud, ond de- pravity ; the cradle of tlie sage ; the rendez- vous of tlie criminal ; the Babel of Babels, big with the confusion of every creed, and fashion, and tongue ; the everlasting Enigma, — the great anomaly and comi)lication of contradictions. There, in his typhus-tainted corner, the gaunt spectre of Poverty surveys, with glaring eye and gnashing teeth, the pampered puppet of Wealth as he stalks away on the other side ; there, neglected Genius sits brooding in his smoke- dried attic, and wondering why the crowds of mediocrity that rumble to and fro, regard not his pale, wan visage, as he pines away in his solitary cell ; here, the children of rags and of misery huzza as the gilded equipage of Pomp rolls triumphantly before them, and they sigh when it is passed, that the very beasts that drag it on seem to glory in their dazzling attire and shake their heads with very pride, while they are fain to hide themselves in the dark corners and unfrequented haunts that their rags may escape the ridicule of the crowd. Here, Virtue and Love and Beauty vie with each other to charm us with their purity and grace and goodness, and there the dark goblins of Vice and Fraud and Depravity prowl abroad in their blackest garb ; here. Truth and Justice are struggling amongst the crowd for their daily bread, whfle Avarice and Fraud are revelling in luxury and ease ; the wise, the great, and the wealthy declaim in the senate-house, while the widow, the orphan, and the outcast petition in the streets ; the law-giver and the judge dispense justice from their thrones of power, while Crime stalks out at midnight with " Tar- quin's ravishing strides " ; the physician, the sage, and the philosopher barter their wisdom for gold, while disease and ignorance and death are bearing away their thousands to the grave I — but still and for ever a clamourous throng moves on. As night advances upon a city, so does its interest, to all but the watchman, the burglar, and the novelist, decrease. Dreary, dark, and melancholy its deserted streets begin to appeari as the shops close one by one, and their wearj owners bolt up their doors for the night, and retire to unknown regions, whence the din of the outer Babel is excluded for the time, to im- prove their successes or to brood over their misfortunes unrecked-of and alone. The flick- ering lights in the upper stories appear and disappear in rapid succession, carrying with them every sign of life and comfort into obli- vion ; the lazy street-lamps commence winklEg and blinking, as if half inclined to follow < ■• example and fall off into a general doze for ib' night ; the solitary cabs that jostle along the street have their windows all closed, and their drivers muflled up, and they hurry along as though a goblin were behind them : everybody is hurrying homeward, everything is lonely, and desolate and melancholy, and seems to remind us that ghostly midnight is on our heels, and to admonish us that " night is the time for rest." It was a cold, dark, inhospitable night in the month of November. A bleak "November wind" was howling through the solitary streets, — rumbling in and out of doorways, knocking down dilapidated shutters, rattling fearfully at ricketty old casements, hiding away and mum- bling mysteriously to itself in dark corners, and subterranean haunts, and then rushing off, with a howl and a scream, to brood over some lonely old ruin, or to play the ghost in --#^ LIKE AND ADVENTIJKKS ■omo dcicrtcd tenement, ilKhlnK and moan- ing nil tlio time ax if it too, In common with himuinity, found mttlanclioly in solitude ; a thicl{, intolerable slout was %in|; about and dashing into the eyes and cars, and cutting the face, and penetrnling the garments, to the utter discomforturo of the few pedestrians who were unfortunate enough to bo exposed to its attacks ; the solemn dong of St. Paul's had just tolled the hour one, and, as the mournful din was borno away upon the wiuil, the neigh- bouring towers replied one after anollier, in a melancholy cadence, one ; when a solitary figure — alas! that it should have belougcd to the fairer portion of Ood's creation ! — might have been seen gliding through the Imek ways and unfrequented lanes of the city, running parallel with the river. She was scantily clothed for such a night, and, while some por- tions of her dress bore unmistakable marks of expense and luxury, it was altogether unsuited to the season of the year, and was partially torn and disarranged. She appeared to have walked some considerable distance before reaching the city ; the whole of her dress was completely saturated with the sleet and rain, and hung in heavy, wet folds about her feet. 8he moved on hurriedly, raising her head at intervals and casting a feverish glance about her, through street after street, until she em- erged into Thames Street ; when she slackened her pace, and proceeded with her eyes fixed thoughtfully on the pavement until she reached the flight of steps ascending to London Bridge. Here she stopped, and, looking wildly round, ascended the steps to the first angle in the Btone-work ; where she at once seated herself, totally regardless of the streams of water which were pouring incessantly down the stops from the pavement above. Now, for the first time, as she removed a portion of the scanty shawl with which she had hitherto concealed it from view and shielded it from the bitterness of the night, it became evident that she carried an infant in her arms. She placed it gently upon her knees, and, as it slumbered in sweet uncon- sciousness of the terrible scene, in which its innocent smile seemed a ghastly mockery of the decrees of Fate, she bent her head mourn- fully over it ; and, as her slender body rocked mechanically to and fro, the half-stifled sobs, and the half-articulate exclamations that es- caped her, told something of the anguish that preyed upon her heart. Every now and tlicn, in the vehemence of her grief, she wrung her skinny huuds in a pitiful manner, and darting her burning eyes towards heaven, as though she would pierce the blackness that brooded over her misery, exclaimed. " God I must it bo I what have I done ? lie drove mo from his door — he ! God I" Again she bent her head over her child ; the wind howled more savagely than before ; the rain and the sleet beat more cruelly about her, and she returned to her silent grief. As she raised her head, and the faint light from an op- posite lamp was reflected from her pale and emaciated countenance, it might have made the heart of the sternest stoic to bleed, to trace the outlines of blighted youth, of surpassing beauty, that despite the grief, the misery, and the des- pair that sjioke through every feature, was yet stam|)ed upon her brow by the indelible seal of Heaven, thou luckless child I— thou more than infant in the midst of a stern and iron world t why wert thou moulded in so comely and fair a f isliion 7 — as if thy days were to be dreamed away in thcElysium of Love I Why are thy virtue and thy innocence cast in wax, to withstand the ordeal of the hot furnace of temptation and fraud, that surrounds thee in thy uncertain wanderings in thy wilderness homo? Thou mayest have sinned, — a luckless hour may have hurled thco into the dark vortex of vice ; or thou mayest still bo as pure as the babe that nestles in thy sorrowful embrace ; but what recks the slumbering world around thee?-— pity, and sympathy, and charity are slumbering with it, and, when it wakes, thy voice will not be known amidst the confusion of tongues that shall prevail in that mighty Babel. She had been seated here some minutes, when the figure of a man, closely enveloped in along cloth cloak, — such as were in fashion at the time, — darted suddenly across the opening, at thefootof the steps, and, castinga hurried glance n the direction of the unfortunate girl, disap- peared under the archway of the bridge. The reflection of the shadow upon the wet steps, attracted her attention just in time to enable her to catch a glimpse ofthe figure as its head was turned towards her. The effect was like that of a flash of lightning. She started to her feet, rushed precipitately down the steps, and seemed to fly in the direction taken by the stranger, while her shrill voice rang through the solitude exclaiming ; " Good Heavens I — it is he 1 Edward — dear Ed- ward, I am here I do not leave mo 1 I am all alone. mercy, mercy I" The moaning ofthe wind, and the melancholy OF SIMON SEEK. hough she )oded oTor done ? llo I" child ; tho )eforo ; the about her, f. A a she from an op- r pivlc and ^0 made the to trace tho sing beauty, ind the dos- ure, was yet jliblo seal of than infant world! why ^ and fair a be dreamed lire thy virtue ivithstandthe nptation and liy uncertain lomo? Thou 83 hour may urtex of vice ; the babe that c ; but what lund thee 7— re slumbering voice will not rtongues that I. ninutcB, whea iped in along .shion at the le opening, at lurried glance ;e girl, disap- bridge. The le wet steps,, le to enable ,s its head was as like that led to her feet, s, and seemed [the stranger, ;h the solitude y^i — dear Ed- le 1 I am all Le melancholy echo of her own voice, wore all that answered. She rushed wildly to and fro, peering into every corner and crevice in which tho figure might have been concealed, but she could see nothing. " Uod I am I mad 7" she exclaimed, stopping •uddcnty, and clasping her bony hand to her forehead ; and then bonding her eyes down upon her hcljiless little burden, she continued, — tho tears coursing down her onco beautiful cheeks : *'No, no, my child — It was not Ac. Qod will find you another father — and another — yes, yes my child — my darling boy, — another mother. There is no hope my child — none, none. It must be so. No hope, no hope, my child." Who can count tho pangs oi them that are without tho pale of Hope — that stand upon that fearful bourn dividing Life and Death, and know not which to choose 7 Without, hope t Why, at tho very sound tho soul seems to shrink within Itself, tho heart Involuntarily sickens and becomes sad, the eyes grow dim with pain, and horrid visions of untold mis'sries, of griefs which may not bo comforted, tho lunatic, tho murderer, and thc8uicido,stealin upon thesonscs like the frightful goblins of a frightful dream. Without hope I Why, the mind involuntarily hurries away to tho wretched haunts, tho pesti- ferous dens where penury and crimerun wild, and misery stalks abroad In its blackest garb, and dark despair keeps watch, and fearful, struggling hopeless death is the only outlet! She stood perfectly motionless, with her head bent over her still slumbering child for some minutes; and then rousing herself suddenly, she darted back again, and, ascending tho steps, proceeded with a hurried and feverish step, to cross the Bridge to the Borough side. Reaching the other side, sho turned mechanically into the recess communicating with the steps lead- ing down to the river. Here she stopped, and, selecting a sheltered angle in the wall, which was partially dry, sho removed the shawl from about her shoulders, wrapped a scrap of paper, which she produced from her pocket, In one corner, and enveloped her unconscious little burden carefully in it. Placing another portion of her dress on the ground, in the most sheltered corner, she deposited her child upon it ; and, falling upon her knees beside it, the heavy sobs and half-articulate sounds that escaped her broken and desolate heart, told that she was praying — praying for her child, yea for the child she was about to desert for ever — she, al- ready a suicide in heart. And oh, if words and heart and soul can pray with fervour, her prayer was fcrvent,it was deep, it was pure. Yea, It ii a strange anomaly to you that have glided through the sunny path of life, that have never felt tho promptings of despair ; but tho soul of tho outcast, the deserter, and the sulcldo there poured out Its anguish and its su|)plication to Heaven : and who shall say that its portals wore barred against them 7 Starting again to her feet, sho took from bor pocket a small hand-bell which she attached by a string to tho Iron railings by the side of the angle, and then moved slowly down the steps towards tho water. But when sho had reached about halfway,8hestoppod,claspedboth her hands upon her forehead, and, rushing back again, fell once more upon her knees beside her child, and again poured out tho agonies of her soul in sighs and sobs that seemed each to burst a new chasm in her already crushed and broken heart. Again sho takes a farewell embrace, and, rising gently to her feet, again descends the steps, but very carefully — so carefully that she seems almost fearful of making a noise with her feet ; sho places her bands upon her head and smoothes her disordered hair almost play- fully over her forehead ; she examines her fingers and seems particular that a ring which is on the left hand shall bo In a certain position ; and now she stands upon the water's edge, but is very careful that her feet shall not touch the water, which is washing irregularly on the steps. Tho howling of the night-wind Is hushed—, it appears to bo all hiding away under the dark arches of the Bridge, whence it moans and moans and moans a long, dreary, melancholy dirge ; the rain and the sloet have ceased to beat — nature has forgotten to be angry, and remembers only to mourn and to weep ; and she !---?he glances a moment at tho dark waters that mumble and whisper and wail so mysteri- ously at her feet ; she raises her skinny hands and burning eyes a moment heavenward ; a gentle murmer, a splash, a struggle, meets the ear ; a deep, deep sigh is borne away upon the wind — and a hapless soul has left the world. The wind rushes out with a terrible howl, and hurries to and fro, and screams and moans, and screams again ; now it hovers over the cold and glassy grave, as it closes upon its victim, and now, like a thing frantic with despair, it rushes furiously away, and jingles the little bell that hangs over the head of the motherless babe, and the ding, ding, ding, sounds like a mimic knell tolling for the dead. And now, thou hapless innocent I thy soul is again awake, and LIFE AND ADVENTURES the watl of thy pony Inngfi it added to the latncn- tationi. Thou nrt rouiing from a luckleia ■lumber, — thy crlei have a twofold theme, — thy own holpleia little body, and thy mother's loul. The luund of the cloning waters had scarcely died away upon the ear, when the figure that had so excited the attention of the unfortunate girl on the opposite side of the Hrtdge, emerged stealthily from behind a cover in the stone- work, which must have concealed him during the whole of the foregoing scene. Moving cau- tiously towards the angle In which the child was exposed, he snatched the bell fVom the rail, and stooped down,apparently with the view of taking up the child ; but after glancing at it for a moment, he rose to his fbet again with- out doing so. He then moved to the edge of the steps and examined the nature of the descent into the river, and, returning again, commenced deliberately dragging the child towards the ■tops with his foot, evidently for the purpose of precipitating it into the water. But he had scarcely reaoved it out of the recess, when, starting and uttering a low exclamation, he darted from the spot, and hastily concealed himself behind the abutment from which ho had flrst emerged, without waiting to ascertain the cause of the Interruption, Who art thou that carrlest so black a soul? whose heart Is not crushed to sorrow by the death-wail of so fair a victim ? What art thou, thou blasted figure, whose form is yet erect, whore the fiends of darkness might bow their heads in pity 7 — whoso iron nature is not softened by the supplications of a motherless and friendless babe I What art thou more than the base mockery of a man? for where is thy charm against the spell that the wail of her parting voice has left upon thy soul 7 Hark I it is even now returning upon the night wind ; and behold thy iron nature, thy sturdy aoul al- ready trembles and quails before the whisper- ings of a goblin of air. Fly from it, and it shall pursue thee, till it chase thee to thy grave. In thy wanderings at homo and in foreign climes, in the city and in the forfst, it shall follow thee ; time, nor ocean, nnr day, nor night shall stand between, until it mingle in thy dying groans, and lend its horrors to fright thy naked soul away from earth. CHAPTER 11; FOUND. In order to account satisfactorily for the precipitate retreat of the Unknown, whom the close of the last chapter has established in life and provided for, according to his several de- serts, it will be necessary to retrace our steps across the Bridge a few minutes previous to that memorable event — memorable, inasmuch as these Adventures would certainly never have reached the light, had the little stranger been al- lowed to reach the water,which another moment would in all probability have decided. Being there, at that precise time, we should have seen — that is, under all ordinary circumstances — a small scrap of humanity, about four feet six inches in height, and something less in breadth, fitted up in an ample fustian jacket, ditto con- tinuations, and a primitive sort of head-dress, which looked like a clever compromise between a hat and a hood, and evinced no partiality for any particular portion of the head — who was moving along the pavement — we say moving, because the precise definition of the movement is involved in doubt,inasmuch asitoscillated be- tween a short walk,a lazy trot, and the St.Vitus' dance, forming in the aggregate an easy style of ocomotion, which however carried him along amazingly. When this collective arrangement had proceeded to somewhat the Borough side of the centre of the Bridge he made a sudden halt, raised his forefinger, and planted himself in the conventional attitude of a person catching at a sound in the distance. He evidently heard something ; and whatever that something real- ly was, it at once decided him on a peculiar and somewhat eccentric course of action. Giving emphatic expression to the monosyllable " cats," and winking three distinct times on vacancy for that party's peculior edification, he forthwith plunged into the road, and groped about for several seconds, now in the gutter, now in the centre of the road, until he had succeeded in arming himself with one or two sharp-edged pieces of granite of about the size of an ordinary cat's head ; when he instantly regained the pavement, and proceeded under the shadow of the wall in a stealthy manner, rais- ing his foot — the better to guard against any unnecessary noise proceeding from that mem- ber — to a considerable height in the air at every step, after the prescribed manner of stage robbers when in the full discharge of their uncon- stitutional functions, — from which practice itia OF SIMON SEEK. h ho had tain the [ a loulT r by the art thou, rot erect, bow tho'r D U not lothcrlesB more than iro U thy ail of her I? Hark I ight wind ; dy aoul al- io whlspcr- it, and it loe to thy me and in ho forest, It rr, nor day, il it mingle ) horrors to irth. irrangemcn' •oughsido of sudden halt, limsclf in the catching at :!ntly heard lething real- a peculiar of action, lonosyllable ct times on edification, and groped the gutter, intil he had one or two [bout the size instantly led under the lanner, rais- against any that mem- the air at inner of stage If their uncon- practice it is inferred that, in uppuiitlon to the lawi of gra- Tltation rciuling to matter gonorully, tho high- er tiio foot aictniU tlie lighter and gentler it dticeniti. Iteaching the further extremity of tho liridgo, ho made another halt, throw ano- ther cunlidcntlal wink at the lamp-pott with tho view to Impart hia conviction that it was " all right," and then waving one of tho stones carofully up and down in hia hand, as if he won- making an estimate of tiio force with which a given momentum would carry it against au object at tlio required distance, ho nitido a dosporato plunge round tho corner, Bclectod his object, lot tly tho missile, and ■truck the Unknown in tho centre of tho left leg. Uut what with tho groat amount of pliy- sicnl force exerted, tho ardent zeal with whicli tho perfurmanco was conducted, the slipperincss of the pavement, and an unexpected stop iui- modiately round tho corner, tho equilibrium of tho feline hero was irretrievably lost, and, in Bomuthing less than a twinkling, tho hero's head liad atraiglitway proceeded to take tho place of liis heels, which, being supported in tho air by tho assistance of tho stop, appeared am- bitious of arriving at the loftier distinction. It wus tliis accident that afforded tho Unknown time to escape and conceal himself as we havo already witnessed. Tiie cliild, who had boon screaming lustily up to this moment — an unusual sound, whicii tho hero had very naturally ascribed to feline lungs, (we say naturally, because we believe it to be a standing poi)ulardolusiun,) appeared to be terrified by the sudden api)ariti' 'n,aud instant- ly reduced its expressions of grief to half-stificd sobs and other small out, unmistakablo indica- tions of its nobler origin ; until tho hero had sufflcicully recovered the fragments of his scat- tered senses to roil over to a copious i)ool of water, provided by a hollow in the pavement, and seat himself therein. Whether the child saw him through the darkness in tliis attitude, andtlioufelit it was something human to which itmiglit appeal in its distress, or whetiier it was merely tlie re-actiou following the fright, cer- tain it is that no sooner had the hero made himself comfortable in that position, than it commenced an astonishing display from its embryo lungs, to the utter confusion and be- wilderment of the hero's already scattered senses. He stared vacantly about him, scratch- ed his head violently on one side, whistled two or tlu-ee semibreves in a breath, and, in the spirit o*' contradiction not unfrcquently in- dulged ;ii on such occasions, exclaimed : " Well, I'm bleat I" wldlng, after another aeml< breve, " this aint much of a go, this aint. ▲ reg'lar full-grown kid voice and all, and * pretty lusty one, they've bin and loft him, : lat't reg'lar plain, lilcat if I didn't think if them waa cata, as whey was a com n' the nat'ral ra- ther strong— bleat if I didn't. Well, tbia ia what I calla a go, and that's apeakin' plain." . So Baying he nuide a shift to leave hia un- comfortable bath and crawl over to tho little stranger. " Weil, s'poso wo has a look at yer," ho said, raising tho little creature in his arms and rest- ing it on one knee. " Weil," ho continued, "you're in luck — you are. Whore's yer mo- ther? I s'poso yer father aint nowhere." Tho little creature, who had stilled its aobs as soon as it felt tho arms of a human being about it E^ain, started off at this Juncture with renewed vigour, until the hero was reduced to that state of inward emotion, popularly and laconically conveyed in the word "touched"— " Well, well," he said, in a voice which he no doubt regarded as afi'oction's own, " I didn't go for to hurt yer sons'tive little fcelins. Nosy, wosy, of course I didn't I S'pose yer father have deserted yer ; aint I a goin to be a father to yer — and a mother too, if that's all ? Why o' course I am." With this atTectionato assurance he regained his feet, and was about to move off, child and all, when it seemed to occur to him that a little consideration would be advisable with respect to his destination. " Let's see," he said, look- ing down upon his adopted son ; " where shall wo walk yer off to, eh ? Station house 7 No ; let's see. Workus I s'pose. Or shall wo chance it, and — well, we'll Just turn that round as we goes along. But stop," he continued with another Jerk backwards, " s'pose we jest sec as all's reg'lar ;" and so saying he planted himself in a firm position on the pavement, put one hand to his mouth, and, drawing a long breath, bellowed forth, in a voice that echoed through the dark arches of the bridge, right away to the opposite banks of the river, and, knocking against the lofty wharves, came echo- ing back again,much to his apparent admiration and delight. "Hallo!" he cried, "is there any one here as owns a child? Has any one lost a kid?" Receiving no answer further than the echo of his own voice, he turned round and limped away down the Boro'. When about half way between tho point of starting and the Westmins- ter Road, he came to a full jtop, and addressed 10 LIFE AND ADVENTURES liiniself to his companion in arms to the follow- ing effect : " Tobj or not Toby 7 that's the question, as Hicks says in the play. The public lodgins I knows pretty well, (leastwise I ought to, thanks to fortin and no mother,) and I can't recommend 'em — not by no means. Bad board, wus lodgin', and no respect paid to the feelina of a gen- tl'm'n. Then the Gov'nor's. It's hard to say. Xo kids of their own, at present. But then the Victim. She's dead agen it right off, that's what she is. Well," he continued dropping on one knee in order to rest his burden on the other, while he thrust his left hand into his hreeches pocket ; " ♦here's on'y one way to decide it rig'lar, so here goes." He produced a small coin from his pocket, spat upon it with great earnestness, and, then spinning it up in the air, caught it, and smacked it into the palm of tfte other hand, crying, " Heads gov'nors, tails workus 1 Well, can't be helped," he continued, examining the coin, " heads has it, and so home we goes." With this he hurried on, until he ultimately stopped before a small semi-detached cottage in the Westminster Road. Over the side-en- trance appertaining to this abode was a sign- board setting forth, in an elaborate variety of gilt, blue and red letters, the name aud occu- pation of the owner — to wit : " George Plum- ley, Plumber, Painter, Glazier, and Paper-hang- er. Estimates given for general repairs." " Now for it," said the hero, giving a despe- rate tug at the bell-handle. " In for a penny, in for a pound. Don't touch 'em yet," he said, returning from a survey of the windows from the opposite side of the road ; and with that he gave the handle another tug, which must have sent the bell— or rather sound — fly- ing and spinning through the house in a perfect paroxysm. This soon produced an effect, but to all appearances not precisely the effect de- sired. The second iloor-window made a sudden dash upwards, which was instantly followed by a stream of water which made a sudden dash downwards, causing the hero to retreat beneath the shadow of the doorway with surprising alacrity, observing in a suppressed tone: " The Victim, by George ! " The water was followed by a small head, en- veloped in a large night cap, which was instant- ly seized with a violent fit ot trembling, while a shrill soprano voice, very much cracked and jagged about the edges, issued from under it. " 0, 1 see you, you good for nothing fellow you I " said the voice. " you lost, depraved young man I Do you think no one's got any refined feelings, but what they're to be made a constant victim of your low, vulgar, work'ouse pripensities 7 Here's a time of night I Oh good- ness gracious, to think that respectable people should be made such a victim. D^n't think you're coming in here at what time you please. Not if I can help it. So just go back to your low, vulgar click as soon as you please. If some people aint got any regard for their posi- tion in society, and their feelings and their edy- ercation, that aint to say that other people's to be made a victim of," and here the cap flew into a perfect delirium. " No, you good for no- thing, low-minded fellow, you. Go and make victims of them you've left ; dont come here. There you are, and there I hope you'll remain, and I ho^/e it'll do you good." The head disappeared, and the window came down with the same velocity that had marked its ascent. As the second floor closed, the first floor gradually opened ; and pr» sently the small end of a large Turkish night-cap made its appearance, being followed in due course of time by a round, plump countenance, turning round mechanically as it came out, apparently with the view of ascertaining the position of affairs at the window above ; which done, the head gave a jerk, and round came the countenance. "Timothy, by George, is that you, sir 7" enquired a voice, which, if it was intended to convey an idea of anything like severity, was a palpable failure. " Yes," replied the hero ; " sorry to say it is sir. But if you please, sir " " That'll do, that'll do," replied the voice, and the window began gradually to descend. Timothy straightway indulged in a short pantomimic display indicative of delight, and whispered in the ear of bis companion — who by the by, was, fast asleep — his unqualified con- viction that it was "all right," but neverthe- les admonished him to "say nothing" and " look out for squalls." In another moment the door opened, and, as the moving medium kept carefully sheltered behind it, Timothy sidled in, concealing his burden as much as possible, while the first floor voice proceeded from behind the door : " You're a pretty sort of a fellow, aint you 7" Timothy seemed doubtful on the point, and made no reply. " This is giving you a holiday — this is." Timothy couldn't deny it. " By George, I'm a good mind to say it shall be the last, that's what I have," continued the • sir, • OF SIMON SEEK. 11 18." voice, following^ him into a small general apart- ment at the back of the house. " Well sir, I'm very sorry sir," faltered Ti- mothy, " but they would go for to make me stay sir; and it's so long since my sister and me was " " Well, well, never mind," rejoined the voice, " How IS your sister ?" ■ " Thank yer sir, she's middlin sir." Now at about this time Timothy felt his heart beat — in fact it might almost be said to have knocked a complete Belgravian rat, tat, tat, against his ribs. What was to be done ? He would have given anything if his young friend would have come to the rescue at that moment, and have notified his presence on his own ac- count ; if he would only have broken the ice with a cough, or a whine, or something of that sort. But no ; he evidently had no such intention. Should he pinch him? His man- hood revolted at the thought. But there was no time to be lost ; his master was leaving the room ; and he therefore drew in a long supply of breath, wheeled round, so as to bring the ob- ject of his anxiety in full view, and, fixing his eyes immovably on the left leg of a small stool that lay upside down upon the floor, he deli- vered himself in the following lucid manner : " If— if — you please sir — look here sir, I — I, I'm 'fraid sir I've bin and gone and done reg'lar wrong, sir — but I thought as I couldn't go for to leave it out in the cold all night, sir — and it was cryin' so affectin', sir, down there by Lon- don Bridge, sir, where I found it, sir, all alone, • sir, so I hope I've not bin and gone and made a mess, Mr. Plumley, sir." During this unsophisticated statement Mr. Plumley, sir, had stood gazing on the child, perfectly motionless, and with his mouth on the jar. " On London Bridge— by George — in the open air," said Mr. Plumley abstractedly. " With the rain a peltin' on him dreadful," added Timothy. Mr. Plumley said no more ; but, wheeling round sharply on his heel, darted out of the room, and made a precipitate retreat up stairs. Timothy immediately deposited his burden on the table, whistled a few soft semibreves in his ear, and concluded a compound demonstra- tion of delight with an energetic movement from the sailor's hornpipe. Mr. Plumley was a young man, rather above the middle height, with a full red face, glowing with good nature and whiskers ; it also appear- ed to be the conviction of his friends and ac- quaintances generally, that, as a whole, he was correctly and symetrically put together, inas- much as it was a common remark amongst them that " Plumley carried his heart in the right place." He had not been absent many seconds when he returned with five pillows, two blankets, and a counterpane in one arm, and a large wicker cradle in the other. The latter neces- sary to domestic happiness, had been purchased with the rest of the furniture at the time of Mr. Plumley's nuptials two years previously : as it is presumed, in the hopeful anticipation of an event which, however, had not yet transpired. " She'll be down directly," said Mr. Plum- ley, depositing his load in a corner close to the fire place. " Why, Tim, I thought you'd have had the fire agoing. Look alive 1 If it aint froze, its much to me." And Tim did look alive. Out went the ashes, and in went the wood, and off went the fire, blazing away, as Timothy observed, in something less then no time ; which was about the time his master took to make up a snug bed in the cradle, remove the shawl from about the small guest, pour forth a small volume of eulob'iims on its eyes and limbs and appurte- nances generally, and deposit it under a large pile of blanket and counterpane, which render- ed its ultimate escape with the smallest por- tion of breath in its precious little body — as Mrs. Plumley emphatically observed, — the merest miracle as ever was. These arrangements were just completed, and Mr. Plumley had seated himself with his chin in one hr.nd, his eye contemplating the gasping little object under the blankets, and his foot energetically rocking the cradle to and fro (although his precise motive for doing so did not appear, since the child was fast asleep and of course perfectly quiet) ; when Mrs. Plumley — a lively, merry-looking, round faced, neatly formed little body, with a great collec- tion of very pretty brown hair hanging in very interesting disorder about her shoulders, and a very small, innocent little curl-paper on each temple, and a very red spot in the centre of each cheek, which made her look all the prettier — came tripping into the room, with a variety of mysterious little fabrics, all lily white, in one hand, and a very curiously shap- ed bottle in the other. " Tim," said Mrs. Plumley, in a very pretty little voice that was meant to be severe but took the wrong road in coming out, at the same time making a bound towards the cradle ; 12 LIFE AND ADVENTURES '* Tim, you naughty young man 1 What have you been and done now ?" " Very sorry to disturb yer, mum," said Tim ; " but here's rather a huncommon go here, mum, along o' this here hinfant, mum." " goodness gracious I" exclaimed Mrs. Plumley, who had evidently heard nothing of Timothy's apology. "0 goodness gracious, what beautiful eyes I George, dear, do look. Did you ever see such lovely, lovely, lovely 1" George dear did look, but George dear was otherwise engaged. It had occurred to him that the child must be hungry— it might be famished ; and accordingly, with the view of providing effectually against the evil, he had already placed upon the table, the cold remains of a sirloin of beef, half a leg of boiled pork, two quartern loaves, and three or four bottles of beer — and had in fact transplanted the whole of the contents of the whole of the cupboards to the tabic : a mistake, however, in which he was soon set right by Mrs. Plumley, who re- served to herself the exclusive right to super- intend the mysteries of that department. But Mr. P. couldn't very well be made to under- stand that he had been led into making such a display for no tangible object whatever ; and he therefore proposed, after a little reflection, that, as the " little one " was quiet, and looked tolerably comfortable, they should sit down and take a " snack " while they talked the matter over. Mrs. Plumley was however too much excited to eat — in fact, too much transported, she said, with the dear little angel's physumology, to do anything at all. If it might be presumed that there had entered into the ingredients of Mrs Plumley's constitu- tion any thing bearing the semblance of a fault, it was certainly that not very uncommon one on the fair side of humanity, of being too enthusiastic. She had a natural nack of falling head and eors in love with everything and every body at the first sight. Hence, accorc' "ng to her own confession, within the space of twelve calendar months, she had been on the very point of breaking her heart no less than fifteen different times for fifteen different young plumbers, who had been brought within the precincts of her maternal abode for the purpose of repairing the water-pipe that always would be bursting somewhere or other, and to repair which they always would send a different young plumber on every occasion, and who was so " conversional" and so obliging, and so delight- ful, that she couldn't help falling head and ears in love with him, tht'c and then— no, not if she were to die for it. And then he never came again, until the pipe sprung another leak some how or other, and then came another young plumber, who drove away all the beauties of the other young plumber, until Mr. Plumley him- self came and drove them all away together. After which the weakness took a new channel, and turned more especially upon inanimate objects, such as bonnets and shawls and rib- bons and trinkets, until Mr. P. used to remark, by way of a good joke, that he would any time undertake to paint, inside and out, in " three coats of oil," any three shops in the Westminster Boad, while Mrs. P. could pass any one of them at her quickest pace ; and when Mrs. P. laughed and said, " Stuff and nonsense," he generally fol- lowed it up by enquiring if she had got that bonnet into shape yet ; which was a gentle allu- sion to her having so hugged and caressed a cer- tain beautiful, new-fashioned bonnei which he had unexpectedly presented to her, that sh»was never able to bring it into anything like wear- able shape afterwards. Timothy having told his tale, and replied to a great deal of cross-questioning with respect to the precise spot, and time, and manner in which the child was found, the conclusion was unanimously arrived at, that the circumstances altogether involved a mystery ; and when Mrs. Plumley had examined the shawl and pronoun- ced it to be the remains of some very expensive fabric — in fact, that when new it must have been a perfect love of a shawl ; and when a scrap of paner was found wrapped in the corner, with these words written in a neat lady's hand, " Take care of him, and God will bless you. A. B." it was definitely decided that a mystery hung about the whole affair. This conclusion had just been arrived at, when the equanimity of the company was sud- denly overthrown to a remarkable extent, by the appearance at the doorway, of a ghostly looking figure, enveloped in a long whitey- brown robe, surmounted by the very identical night-cap that had followed the water out of the second-floor front. " George," exclaimed the cracked voice with the ragged edges ; " for shame I To think that you should delight in making a person such a victim ! When you know I aint been used to it, and I never was made to be used tb it. My nature aint like some natures ; and if I am delicate and sensitive it aint my fault, and if my edyercation is different from some people's (meaning, it is presumed, Mrs. Plum- OF SIMON SEEK. 13 lot if she rer came iak some er young ies of the iley him- together. channel, nanimate and rib- remark. , any time in " three stminster ae of them '. laughed erally fol- 1 got that jntle allu- saed a cer- which he at shftwas like wear- replied to th respect manner in lusion was umstancet when Mrs. pionoun- expensive nust have id when a the corner, idy's hand, SB you. A. a mystery irrived at, was sud- extent, by a ghostly g whitey- identical iter out of ;ked voice To think a person aint been be used tb ea ; and if my fault, Tom some Irs. Plum- ley's), that's no reason why I should be made a constant victim. Why don't you let me go into service, George ? and there'll be an end ' it. I can't last long — I know that — Vxtx delicate — I know I am. Then why don't j-,. . let me go into service, George, if you want to get rid of me ? If I am to be a victim, let me be a victim, and there'll be an end of it." This pathetic outburst was delivered with much feeling and pathos, and involved an ener- getic application of a large handful of cambric with which she had come duly prepared. Mr. Flumley made no reply. He appeared to have become suddenly absorbed in the study of anatomy off the sirloin ; Mrs. P. had plunged deep into the contemplation of the contents of the cradle; while Timothy was sedulously testing the quality of the table-cloth by pricking it up with a fork. There was a dead calm ; which seemed to render the following emphatic en- quiry from the cracked voice somewhat para- doxical. " Is Bedlam broke loose ? What is it all about?" said the voice. " George, why don't you speak ?" Well, well, my good girl," said Mrs. Plum- ley, " There's nothing amiss. Lizzy girl, just tell Selina— " Selinal stop I Just one word on that euphoni- ous appendage. ye doating fathers, and tender-hearted mothers, if ye want an affected, weak-minded, melancholy, sickly sentimental piece of wax-work for a daughter, lay the foun- dation by christening her Selina! Heaven preserve us from a Selina 1 Mary, Jane, Peggy, or even Betsey, or any thing you will — but not Selina, or any of its sentimental companions. Selina Plumley, eldest sister of Mr. George Plumley, was no exception to the Selina rule (exceptions of course there are, and among them as a matter of course, are all the Selinas that shall do us the honor to travel through these Adventures). No; she was rather a per- fect embodiment of it. She was fast verging into the solitary bourn of a doubtful age, and there is every reason to suppose that she knew it and felt it. Added to this, the circumstances which had controlled her movements through life, had been, in one sense, to say the least, unfortunate, inasmuch as they had tended to raise her, in feelings and acquirements, above and beyond the sphere in which she was, how- ever, compelled to move. In her early youth she had, by some means or other, obtained ac- cess to an old one-stringed harpsichord — she called it a piano — and had become pro'icient in that instrument to the extent of three tunes with one hand, including " The last rose of Bummer," and " The light of other days," and the first part of three others, which she had been beard to execute with marked success — not to say brilliantly — with both hands. She had moreover studied, and learned by heart, three whole and complete pages of " French without a Master," besides, becoming complete master— or rather mistress, of no less than twenty-three whole and distinct words from the vocabulary therein contained. In virtue of these and other similar accomplishments, it is not surprising to find her inspired with the idea that her consti- tution was based upon extremely refined and delicate principles, and that, in being compel- led, as it were, to crush both her feelings and her prospects in the midst of a sphere from which she was, obviously, alieniated by nature, she was, in every sense of the word, and to say the very least of it — a victim. Well, we left Mr. Plumley requesting his wife to give Miss Selina an explanation. "Oh, let Tim; he knows most about it," said Mrs. Plumley, who evidently didn't approve of the o£Sce. " Hem 1 what, me mum?" said Tim, Mrs. Plumley nodded, and winked, and made a grimace, as much as to say, exactly so ; and Timothy proceeded, " If you please, mum, you see, I — I've bin and found a child— and— and it was reg'lar pouring o' rain, — and so I brought him home, mum." " Oh mercy," screamed th: Victim, falling flop into a chair. " Oh mercy 1" gasped the Victim, casting her eyes upward, bowing her body to and fro, and doing the usual symptoms. " Oh mercy I" she gaspe-'' a third time, and was just on the point of giving way to the full force of her feelings, when the child, who had been startled by the first shriek for mercy, started off at the y 3ry top of its pulmonary powers. Singularly enough, this checked the symptoms at once. A few sp.asmodic gasps at certain small atoms of air that seemed to be floating away in the distance, a little gentle rocking to and fro, and Miss Selina was herself again. Timothy felt called upon for an apology. " I beg your pardon, mum," if I — " " Beg my pardon," cried Miss Selina with all her wonted energy. " Beg my pardon I How dare you talk to me in that manner, you im- pident, 1 )W-minded fellow you 1" " Well, I'm sorry, mum, if — " '■ Sorry ! Don't you attempt to insult me in that way, sir. I'll not be insulted by you, sir. Oh mercy, to think that a person's to be insulted' ^1^ LTFE AND ADVENTURES L'il 'li to her very face by a low, work'ouse creature 1" exclaimed Miss Selina. " Well," pleaded Timothy, " I'm sure I didn't go for to—" " Oh goodness gracious I" cried Miss Selina, going off into a paroxysm ; " was ever any one made such a victim I and as to you, George, you aint got a sparkle of feeling — that you aint ; to stand by and hear a sister insulted to her very face. It aint like a brother — that it aint. If I'm in the way, George, why don't you let me go into service ? I will go into service, George, and there'll be an end of it." This latter appalling resolution was rendered with remarkable emphasis and point — in fact it had been produced with about the same em- phasisand point, three timesaday,ataniinimum estimate, for the last two years : while it was remarkable that the only attempt on the part of Miss Selina to carry it into cflect, had been made on one, and only one remarkable occa- sion, when, in a fit of despair, she had made a rush to the grocer's at the corner, and enquired if they knew of an opening fora governess ; but, on being straightway referred to a family in the next square, t^he declined to proceed further in the matter, alleging as the ground-work of her objection, that, from her own private knowledge of the family in question, she felt convinced that both their moral and religious character was involved in doubt, irrespective of the fact that they seemed to aspire to a proficiency in Italian and singing to which she could scarcely lay claim. Having in due course of time recovered from her splenetic attack. Miss Selina became uneasy. Yes ; there is every reason for the belief, that Miss Selina was extremely uneasy. There was a new- born infant in the cradle, not three yards re- moved from i,he very seat on which she sat, and yet she couldn't see, under all the circum- stances, how she could very well catch so much as a glimpse of that intensely interesting ob- ject, without compromising her dignity. No ; and yet, could it be resisted? Well, as far as our own opinion is concerned, we doubt if all the dignity, nil the fortitude, all the stoicism of the most stoical of women, would be sufficient to resist a temptation of such unqualified mag- nitude. No ; on mature refection ; we are of opinion that it couldn't be done. Miss Selina was of that opinion too, and therefore she didn't attempt it. She rose indignantly from her chair, and declaring that she found it impossible to credit the evidence of her own senses, took three indignant strides across the room, and threw a long indignant glance into the cradle ; from which she left it to be inferred that her sole object was to annihilate the insolent little intruder there and then upon the spot. " Now aint he a little cherub ?" said Mr. Plumley, who thought this a good opportunity for appealing to the affections. " Oh stuff I" returned his sister. " By George," said Mr. Plumley, (it is pre- sumed that this referred to the celebrated saint, and not to himself,) suddenly emerging from his abstraction and dealing the table three distinct blows with his hand, while at the same time ho strained all the surplus blood into his face, until it passed from a pale amber to a* deep brown. "By George, if I thought, Selina, that you had the 'art — if I could be made to believe that a sister of mine had the 'art to-to — by George, jf I wouldn't — why— why — by George — but there, it's all nonsense ; you didn't mean it. You've got a 'art as tender ind sens'tive as what the best of us has — that's what you've got ; so it's no use talking. By George," said Mr. Plumley, pointing his finger with an im- pressive jerk towards the cradle, " who could have the 'art to leave a hinnocent little crea- ture like that there to the mercy of the heli- ments such a night as this. There, I don't believe it's in the 'art o' man to do it — that's what I don't — by George !" Miss Selina didn't mean to say it was. After the graceful compliment her brother had thought proper to pay to the constitution of her nature generally, (which was his usual mode of bringing about a reconciliation in cases of this sort,) Miss Selina didn't mean to say anything of the kind. In fact, after a great deal of coaxing from both Mr. and Mrs. Plum- ley, and after her opinion had been specially consulted on the texture of the shawl, and the probable amount of education and refinement displayed in the hand-writing on the scrap of paper. Miss Selina herself concurred in the general opinion, that the matter involved a mystery ; and, ultimately, went so far as to give her valuable support to the motion, moved by Mrs. Plumley and seconded by Mr. Plumley, to the effect, that a nurse should be immediate- ly found, and engaged for the requisite period, and that the little stranger should forthwith be admitted to all the rights and privileges of a ligitimate member of the Plumley family — so re- maining until such time as he would be enabled, by the force of circumstances or the interpos- tion of Providence, to emerge from the shroud of mystery that at present enveloped him. OF SIMON SEEK. % he cradle ; I that her jlent little >t. ' said Mr. pportunily , (it is pre- rated saint, ing from liis reo distinct same time ito his face, r to a* deep Sclina, that le to believe ■t to-to— by -by George didn't mean nd sens'tive what you've eorge. said with an im- " who could t little crea- ' of the heli- liere, I don't do it — that's was. After brother had Institution of tas his usual [nciliation in In't mean to after a great Mrs. Plum- len specially lawl, and the refinement the scrap of irred in the involved a Iso far as to otion, moved JMr. Plumley, ]e immediate- lisite period, forthwith be :ivileges of a imily — sore- be enabled, le interpos- the shroud Iped him. •«i; 1 CHAPTER III. SOCIETY VERSUS POVERTY. TiMR is a great magician, the world is the stage on which he displays his enchantments, and its inhabitants are the implements of jug- glery with which he performs his illusions and transfigurations. Ovid may boast of his start- ling metamorphoses, his Atlas, his Daphne, and his Pcrimell, but the great magician of the Abyss only smiles at his wizards for street- strolling jugglers, and passes his wand over their trickeries and they vanish before his power. He is the first and legitimate metamorphoscr, and the sovereign wizard of the worlfl. He passes his hand over the forest and the waste, and their inhabitants disappear, the majestic oak and the pine hide their heads, the earth moulds into shape, and cities and kingdoms ap- pear in view, and seem to flourish by the power of a great enchantment. Again his hand passes over the cities, the Babels, and the glories of the world, and their temples, their monuments, their fanes tumble down, their power is no more — their beauties have dissolved and passed away like a dream : the gloomy forest appears again, and again the howling wind is sweeping over a desolate bourn. Now he illuminates his pavilion with his magic lights, and the bright luminaries of art and science and civilization shed their lustre through the world, and en- compass its multitudes with their splendour ; again he passes his wand over the scene, it re- tires before his power, and the whole is again wrapt in impenetrable darkness. Neither is he confined to the great and the lofty, but, while he balances the world and holds the destinies of kingdoms in his hand, he also condescends to deal out to individuals from his inexhaustible bottle, and to dangle the strings of a Fantoc- cini. Now, after this small but brilliant ebulition of creative fancy, it is presumed, my dear reader, that you are perfectly prepared for a change ; a great change — in fact, a wholesale metamor- phosis in some shape or other ; and that therefore you will not be in the smallest degree surprised at being called upon to leave the incidents re- corded in the foregoing chapters behind you — far behind you in the hazy regions of the past, and to make a running leap over the whirling vortex of time to the extent of ten whole years. It was on the tenth anniversary, then, of the day on which those incidents occurred, — a dreary, uncomfortable, disaflfected sort of a day. at about 5 p.m., that two small representatives of the lower orders were established on their knees beside the pavement, in the very recess at the end of London Bridge in which the child had been deserted and found. A small wooden box, surmounted by a somewhat inartistic repre- sentation of a man's foot with the sole uppermost, stood before them, and, with a tall Day and Martin blacking-pot, and three questio.nable brushes, constituted their coat of arms, pro- claiming to the world generally, and to all well-regulated pedestrians in particular, that they stood, or rather knelt there in the honor- able position of members of the useful and orna- mental profession of London Shoe-blacks. The z.AoT of the pair was a small piece of human ar- chitecture — although apparently full grown,— with a curiously comical countenance,prominent in which was the mouth, which, in addition to an extremely ludicrous twist in the left-hand corner, appeared to be restricted to no particu- lar locality, but left at liberty to wander over the whole extent of the countenance at pleasure. His companion was a mere child, sliroly made, with bright, cheerful, regular features, and a lively manner. Every now and then he saluted the passengers in a small soprano voice, with " Clean your boots, sir ?" which was followed up in a cracked and dilapidated tenor from his companion, with "Polish your boots, sir?" while the individual himself made a sort of spasmodic clutch at every boot that passed along the pavement. They were both poorly dressed, and neither of them appeared to have any connection with the red-jacket, ragged- school urchins, who compose the great corps of London Shoe-blacks. The elder kept every now and then admonishing his shivering little comrade to beat his arms round his body, in a manner of which he gave him a highly spirited example. " It is cold, Tim, aint it ?" said the child, rubbing his hands together. " Cold," replied Tim, for of course Tim it was ; " it's what I call a reg'lar double-em-up sort of day, and no mistake. It don't perpetrate to the bones at all, does it? which is seen by my arms : reg'lar black and blue where I've bin a beatin' of em. Look out, Simy, here they come, both ways. Pol'sh your boots, sir? Shall I put the pols'h on, sir ? only a penny, sir, can't break you, sir ? No luck, Simmy," said Tim, 16 LIFE AND ADVENVURES ! 1 h as the whole flock :>{ boots disappeared in all directions. " You may depend 'pon it," added Tim, " the repressed state of the money market is a knockin' our business to shiTerlnes, Simy." "Yes," replied the child shoeblack. "But aint it capital, Tim, that we're able to earn what we are, now Mr. Plumley's so poor ? He's had a great deal of trouble, aint ho, Tim 7" " Trouble 1" cried Tim, flinging the word out as though it were too contemptible to bring into contact with such a subject. " Trouble I why, if it aint a mercy that he's not gone reg'lar nun cumpus, I should jist like this indiv^'al in the white choke as is cummin up here, and o' course dont want the pol'sh put on, to tell us what a mercy is. (Pol'sh yer boots, sir ?) To go for to think that arter that there illness, (and if that was a trifle, why, all I can say is, trifles is lookin' up,) six months on it, (Pol'sh your boots, sir 7) as if that was'nt enough, but what he must go to wanderin' about for six or seven months (Pol'sh your boots, sir 7) out of work. Not so much as a busted water-pipe has come for'ard to give him a lift to get a crust out on — and then this is a free country I And aint he tried ? aint he bin out night and day, hail, rain, blow and snow, and every thing else 7 And what's the consikence? why starvation's the consikence I and if wo was'nt jist able to lay hold of a copper or two in this line (Pol'sh 'em ofiT, sir ?) why the work'us' 'ud be the consi- kence ; and if that aint summut for a man to come to, why some un 'ud better tell me as I never was there. What's your takins to-day, Simy 7" " One and three-pence is all I've taken to- day," replied Simy.* " And rather fust rate too, for a indivigual of about your size and ce'cumfrence, I shud think," returned Tim. " Well, it's gettin' late for our profession, Simy, so I think we'll toddle.'' " Very well, Tim," said Simy, " if you think we shall get no more." " Xv< ; I think we've got about the last. You see, ours beia' a hornimental profession, people dont like to pay for it unless they can see the beauties on it ; and yer see its beginnin' to get a little dusky like, so that it'll soon be a matter of about rowhere whether the polish's off or on. So hand me over yer box, and away we goes — no, stop a bit ; here's this codger in the cloak ; he's bin by once, and now he's comin back agin. Look, he's eyin' you dreadful. Dont you trouble, I'll take the job. Pol'sh 'em off, sir?" Taking no notice of the solicitations of Mr. Shoeblack the elder, the individual alluded to passed on, keeping his eyes fixed on the child until he found it inconvenient to look back. After walking forward a few paces he again returned, keeping his eyes still fixed on the boy. Having proceeded a few paces in the opposite direction, he turned again, and came and plant- ed his foot upon the boy's box. The child set to work upon the boot, and the stxanger watch- ed him in silence for some time. At length he enquired, , " What is your name, boy 7" " Simon Seek, sir." " Is that your father's name 7" said the stranger. " I haven't got a real father," replied the boy. " How old are you 7" pursued the strangef, " Ten years, sir," replied the boy. At this moment the man's head became sud- denly turned towards the river. The boy felt his foot tremble on the box, and looked up in his face. He was evidently laboring under some violent emotion. His features were gra- dually becoming distorted, his eyes glared and rolled about, his mouth was strangely twisted on one side, and bis whole countenance was white as marble. The boy instinctively shrunk from his post to the side of his companion, who, thinking the man was in a fit, was about to call to some of the passers by for assist- ance ; when he suddenly dashed his foot off the box, threw his arms in the air, and clapping his hands violently to his ears, darted off at a rapid pace across the bridge. " Well," said Timothy, as soon as he had dis- appeared, " there aint much of the crazy about him, cert'ny I say, what a partic'lar sort of 'ffection he seemed to have to'ard you, though. Ho aint one of your rich relations turned up on a sudden and gone off in a fit of estacy at the sight of yer, is he 7 But how- sumo vor I dont think he could a bin very much delighted. It did'nt seem to take that turn. Well, at any rate we shall know him agon, and when we see him I tliink we|ll jest p'litely ask him for the odd copporforthat there polish as he's bin and walked off with without payin for." "I was very glad to get rid of him at that price," said Simon. " I didn't like the look of him." "Well, if you did," replied Tim, "I cert'ny couldn't ingratulate you on your depreciation of beauty. But now, after that, give me yer box and off we goes to the busum of our per- spective families. Good bye to the old corner once more. I never looks at it, Simy, buj lal alluded to on the child ;o look back. ^ces he again ad on the boy. the opposite me and plant- The child set L anger watch- At length be J 7" said the eplied the boy. the stranget oy. d became sud- The boy felt i looked up in ],boring -nder ures were gra- jres glared and angely twisted intenance was ictively shrunk is companion, fit, was about by for assist- his foot off the and clapping .arted off at a as he had dis- |ie crazy about lartic'lar sort |e to'ard you, rich relations off in a fit of ? But how- lin very much ike that turn. lim agen, and sat p'litely ask •e polish as he's Ipayin for." If him at that :e the look of ^, "I cert'ny depreciation l, give me yer Im of our per- Iho old corner [t, Simy, but OF SIMON SEEK. IT what I remembers that night. There's where you lay, right up in that corner, like a reg'lar bundle of nothin', as I may say. Ah, that was a night, that was 1" Timothy was one of those curious specimens of a curious race— about one specimen of which is generally to be found in every parish — who seem to have entered into a compact with nature, by which it is stipulated, that, in con- sideration of their never looking young, they shall, on the other hand, never look particular- ly old ; and hence at any given period of their ex- istence, they naturally stand good for any age varying from sixteen to sixty ; and at all times entirely defy conjecture to fix anything like a definite term to their past existence among sub- lunary things. The Timothy of to-day was es- sentially the Timothy of ten years ago ; and nothing short of the strong logical reason that existed for the belief that he was really and bona fide ten years advanced towards the grave, could have made any one credit for a moment, that so much as a day bad passed over his tight little head. The reader will possibly have observed that the same, or indeed any portion thereof, could not be said of the weasen little atom of mor- tality which he bore away in his arms on that memorable night. Time and care, with a little appropriate assistance on the part of nature, had transformed the helpless little parcel of embryo organic substances, that could be wrap- ped in a shawl and dropped in a corner, or smothered in a cradle, or hugged to death, or dropped in a pond, at the will and mercy and caprice of the world generally, into a smart, well-shaped, intelligent little reality, in the midst of a stern and busy world, who could come to the rescue of his friends and benefac- tors, and assist to drive the spectre Poverty — the champion foe of the race — from the door, where the strength, the sinews, the intelligence of a score more years had failed. Such are the strange anomalies of this strange world. Reaching the Black Friar's Road, they turned into the New Cut, and thence into a narrow, dark, dilapidated street, reeking with filth and misery, and swarming with the squalid repre- sentatives of the next generation. The door of the house at which they brought up was open, and a motley collection of rags, and bones, and skin, and dirt, and incipient depravity, forming in the aggregate, the important personages just alluded to, and each of whom counted one in the census of the Christian world — were tum- bling up and down the stairs, trampling on sach other's fingers, tugging at each other's hair, thumping lustily at each other's face, lisp- ing blasphemy they couldn't comprehend, stammering at half-acquired oaths, and crying and screaming, and hooting, — by way of a little innocent and child-like amusement. Mr. Plumley's misfortunes had compelled hM to take refuge amongst this class of Christians (your Christian philanthropists and your Chris- tian legislators will have them all Christians,) much against his inclination. But for all classes of Christians society has its allotted localities, and its own peculiar and benevolent provisions. For your lordly Christian with the lordly patri- mony, that would make ten thousand starving Christians very comfortable Christians indeed, who orders John the Christian flunkey to kick the Christian beggar off the door-step, — socie- ty's provisions are the most approved, in fact there is nothing in society's opinion too good for this most exemplary class of Christians. For your swindling Christians, who do business in a proper systematic manner, and prey upon the innocence, and credulity, and helplessness, of poor, honest, inoffensive Christians, and bring them in a proper systematic manner to beggary and starvation, — society has most wise and benevolent provisions — the gilded equip- age, the marble mansion, and the " supple knee." For your low-minded, illiterate, vaga- bond, thievish Christian, who robs a solitary, unwary Christian of his purse, society has ad- mirable provisions too — a case-hardening dis- cipline and a blasted name, no refuge, and option's choice of a profession. But for your poor and unfortunate Christian — your large family Christian, who has been foolish enough to fall ill and out of work, and finds himself, as our Yankee Christians say, unable to " pay up" — society has the most wise and benevolent provisions. There is the typhus-tainted alley and the haunts of vice for his home and charnel- house, the free-school of vice and crime and mis- ery for his babes, and the kicks and scoffs of all respectable and well-to-do Christians to assict him to withstand the temptations that surround him ; all of which, having taken their natural Christianising effect, there is yet the gaol and the scaffold to complete the process for himself and his little ones. Mr. Plumley's apartments were at the top of the house, and the contrast between them and and the neat little cottage in the Westminster Road was certainly melancholy enough. The furniture was old and rickety and dilapidated ; and although it was arranged in the best pos- 18 LIFE AND ADVENTURES il:|:i I •ible order, and eTerjr thing wav clean and " tidy," yet the very atmosphere was poverty ; the cleanliness itselfspolce poverty ; the ghastly mockery of order proclaimed poverty ; the rickety remains of old comforts stared you in the face and said, poverty, — there was a deep, ■atirical grin peering through all the cracks and rents that leered, poverty. When Simon, with his friend, entered, Mrs. Plumley, who was engaged in some sort of needle-work, at once received him in her arms, and kissed and caressed him with all the affec- tion of a mother. The brightness of lier smile had worn away, and she was much thinner in appearance, but in other respects she was the same lively, good- tempered, affectionate little creature as ever. Mr. Plumley was from homo ; but Misa Plumley —yes, ulaal the Victim t there she sat, with her elbows on Iter knees, her chin in her hands, her eyes upon iho fire, and melancholy in her heart. If the shadowy outline of three well-proportion- ed wrinkles on the forehead, analarming retreat of the organs of vision towards the interior, hollow cheeks and prominent eyebrows, corld say anything towards making up the sum of ten years' ^ear and tear. Miss Solina was most unquestionably ten years older, if a day. But, seated beside Mrs. Plumley, on a little stool— or rather a wooden box, that served the purpose — was a third party. It was a little girl, apparently about eight years old. A beautiful child, with Mr. Plumley's eyes, Mrs. Plumley's hair — and beautiful hair it was, there can't be the least mistake about that— Mr. Plum- ley's nose, and all the sprightliness and good- ness of both. She called Mrs. Plumley mother ; and ther') is no doubt whatever, that Mrs. Plumley was proud to know that she was not called out of her name. " Now, my darling," said Mrs. Plumley to Simon, as soon as she had kissed him and stroked his hair, and kissed him again ; " sit down by the fire, by the side of Sissy, while I get the tea ; for you must be perished, I'm sure you must. And so must you, Tim. Come up to the fire. Father will be home directly, and then we'll have some tea. You're a very good, dear, fellow, Tim," said Mrs. Plumley, turning her bright eyes kindly upon him ; " and if it was'nt for you and my dear little darling boy,rm sure 1 don't know — " " I beg your pardon, mum," said Tim, modest- ly interposing ; " but a fellow like me, as can't earn his own livin', which I airt done — not — not — well, I'm afeared to say how long — aint a hobject to be praised, mum. Simy— as I alua said, mum, I know, is a — a— why, a brick aint no name for him, mum, that's what it aint. But, as for me, why, I knows very well if I wa* to go back agen to the work'us', where I came from, why, I should be a doin' you a service ; but still, I might be o' some good one day, mum, and as long as you'll allow mo to remain-^—" " Nonsense, Tim," said Mrs. Plumley. " IIow can you talk so, when you know that you an*^ Simy have brought in all the money we've had to live upon, for the last six or seven months." Miss Selina emitted a small sigh and shifted her position. " Hark I there's father," cried little Sissy, dart- ing to the door. Simon was at her heels in an instant, and they both met Mr. Plumley on the landing. Ho was not the red-faced, robust, hearty young plumber, who had rocked the cradle, and danced to and fro, and thumped the table in the little back-parlor in his own cottage ten years before. No ; time and poverty and care had indeed used him cruelly. There wo3 the good- natured, manly countenance still, but it was gaunt, and pale, and haggard, and full to the brim of silent grief. Ills body was bent for- ward, and he limped along with the assistance of a stick, like an enfeebled old man. " By George, Lizy," said Mr. Plumley, as his little daughter clung affectionately to his arm, " these children '11 do for me. Flesh and blood can't stand it. Why did'nt I have two ungain ones, that I could'nt go for to love ? Then I could a !!tood it. But," he added, with a hand resting affectionately on the head of each, and the tears standing in his eyes. " But look here ; here's children! By George, Lizy," he said, bursting fairly into tears, " here's children I It's too much, Lizy, that's what it is." So saying, he folded them in his arms, and covered them with kisses. Mrs. Plumley went forward and put her arms tenderly round his neck, and, imprinting a kiss on his manly cheek, led him to the table like a child. " Timothy," said Mr. Plumley, after he had a little composed himself, " you're a fine fellow, Tim. No one ever asked you to go and do it, but you did it of your own accord, that's what you did ; and if we don't live to repay you for it, why — why — by George, it'll go hard with us." Timothy was about to say something in de- precation of such expressions of feeling on the part of his master, but a sharp knuckle rap at the door interrupted him. The rap was fol- ny— as I slu» , a brick aini what it aint. well if I was whoro I came ou a service ; ne day, mum, I remain " mley. " How that you an^^ icy we've had !Von months." ;h and shifted ,le Sissy, dart- ler heels in an lumloy on the obust, hearty :ho cradle, and he table in the tage ten years and care had wn3 the good- 11, but it was ,nd full to the was bent for- the assistance nan. lumley, as his ily to his arm, lesh and blood ve two ungaia JVC? Then I with a hand of each, and But look here ; zy," he said, children! It's So saying, covered them put her arms rinting a kiss le table like a after he had a a fine fellow, and do it, but at's what you %y you for it, lard with us." icthing in de- eeling on the luckle rap at rap was fol- OF SIMON SEEK. 1& lowed by the appearanci. v' .i chubby little countenance, mounting a ciiubby liHlo pair of whiskers, u pair of quick-rolling eyes, an ob- trusive little nose, and an unobtrusive little chin ; which kept smiling and nodding upon the company in the most facetious manner, at an elevation of about five feet six inches from tiio ground. " Oh its Mr. Albosh. Come in Mr. Albosli," said Mr. Plumley. The remainder of Mr. Albosh, which at once followed the head into the room, comprised a very slender little body, two very slender little legs, and an unusunl amount of mechanical action. Ho was mounted in a light, short crop coat, ditto vest, nankeens and white neckcloth ; and, in the faint light of the candle on the table, looked a very fair specimen of midsummer res- pectability. But, although Mr. Albosh had emerged from what was essentially a " nipping and an eager air," he didn't look cold. No ; from his general effect, any one would have said that Mr. Albosh was not cold. " Just stepped in to say, how d'ye do," said Mr. Albosh. " Anything turned up, Plumley ?" " Nothing, I'm sorry to say," replied Mr. Plumley. "Wont you take a seat, Mr. Albosh?" " No, no, no, thank you. Dont disturb — pray dont," said Mr. Albosh, waving a small hand in deprecation of the general movement. " No ; can't stop — can't indeed," added Mr. Albosh, while at the same time he seated him- self in the chair just vacated by Timothy, drew his left foot over his right knee, held on firmly with both hands, and proceeded to smile benign- ly round upon things generally. " I'm sorry we've nothing better to offer you, Mr. Albosh," said Mr. Plumley ; "but if you'll take a cup of tea with us, as it is, I'm sure we shall all be—" "No, no, no; not at all, my dear friend. You're very kind, but can't stop — can't indeed," interposed Mr. Albosh, with another wave of the hand, and a more direct concentration of the smile. " Oh do, Mr. Albosh," urged Mrs. Plumley. " Lizy, dear, get a cup for Mr. Albosh." " Now really, Mrs. Plumley, I beg you wont," said Mr. Albosh, " I do indeed," added Mr. Albosh, making amove towards the table, with the sweetest of sublunary smiles. " Positively now I entreat," said Mr. Albosh, drawing close to the table, " I entreat that you wont. I assure you, Mrs. Plumley, I ought not, I ought not indeed," added xMr. Albosh, taking the tea, and helping himself to bread and butter. with unaffected grace. "Busineiti — buiineii^ Mrs. Plumley, before pleasure. Mill Plumley, I beg your pardon, I hope you are quite well ?" " Not very well, I thank you," returned Mill Plumley, blandly. " What with the weather, and the cirkirastances, it's not scprising that • person naturally delicate and sensitive should bo a victim to ill health. Thii is not what I've been used to, Mr. Albosh." Now i* was easy to perceive that the entrance of Mr. AlLosh had .not been without its effect upon the sensitive susceptibilities of the victim- ised spinster. At the first appearance of the head from behind the door-jamb, she had passed straightway from a state of blank depression to a state of lively expression. She had ar- ranged both her collar and her choler, smoothed down her hair, straightened her waist, stiffened her back, and called up a smile. " My dear Miss Plumley," said Mr. Albosh, trying to banish the smile under an appropriate cloud of grief, " it touches me to the quick, to see and to know the melanclioly circumstances in which you are placed. That your noble- hearted brother should be placed in such a lamentable position, is most melancholy to con- template. If it had been at any other time, I might have rendered him a little assistance ; but really, the very peculiar position of my af- fairs, at the present moment, entirely precludes the possibility of my coming to the rescue in any shape or form. In fad, I may say, that our circumstances are, to a certain extent, anala- gous. I am just in that peculiar position, at the present moment, that for the want of a few few pounds — a mere bagatelle, I may say — fifty or sixty pounds — I am going headlong to ruin." " Dear me, is it possible ?" said Miss Plumley. " Yes," pursued Mr. Albosh, " I suppose Pve got one of the finest inventions in the manure line that was ever thought of. In fact, a mine of wealth, sir ; and yet, for the want of a few pounds — a mere bagatelle, I may say, there it is I" and Mr. Albosh threw up his head and his hands, to signify where. " Dear me," said all ihe Plumleys together. " Yes," continued Mr. Albosh, " and unfor- tunately, there is the whole of my capital sunk in that Californian affair. The great " Califor- nian Gold Mining and Quartz Crushing Com- pany. Not but what that must ultimately be a paying concern. I look forward to a dividend of fifty or sixty per cent, from that speculation, as a dead certainty. In fact, if anything should happen, that that should prove a failure, why, I 20 LIFE AND ADVENTUIIES najT say that I'm a ruined man. But I think we've guarded against that. The thareholders bare sent out their own agent to look after thoir intcro8t8, and we uxpect his full report by the next steamer; when I hope the shares will run up, and enable mo to sell out to the extent of a hundred pounds, or so. Just to carry out this other affair." " I should hare thought," suggested Mr. Plumley, " you could have got some capital'ot to advance the — " << Capitalist I" exclaimed Mr". Albosh, with a •mile of horror. "Ah, there's the. ubt Once let a capitalist get hold of a thing of that sort, and you're floored — floored, sir I" " How very sad," said Miss Selina. "Sad, indeed," said Mr. Albosh. "But Plumley," ho added, shifting his position nearer the fire, after disposing of the fourth cup of tea and a whole plateful of broad and butter. " But Plumley, it is really a lamentable thing, that a man of your experience and ability, should be able to get nothing whatever to do. Dear mo, cant we think of a plan of some sort to put you in the way of doing something — whybleas me, if it was only a trifle, it would be better than nothing. Let me see. You've been round to all the houses in your line, of course 7 Yes, well — let mo seo. You've tried all the public places, too? — yes, why, of course, you must have. Well, I dont know, I'm sure, what can be done. Unless we could manage to get up a memorial to the Home Secretary, and just represent to him the deplorable condition of the working classes at the present moment. Well, I must just think that over, Plumley. By the by, why dont you emigrate ?" " Well, the want of means is the only objec- tion," said Mr. Plumley. " Even that takes a little money ; or else I had some thought of trying it." " Oh, had you, dear ? Oh, how delightful that would be !" cried his wife ; to whom this was a new idea, and therefore necessarily delightful. " Which is the best place to go to, Mr. Albosh ?" " Well, for my part, I think Canada. That's a fine country — in fact, I may say, that Canada is a glorious country. There there's room for every one. A man of your ability there, Plum- ley, would make a fortune in no time. You cant help it. Pd undertake to say that in less than three years you would be a man worth your thousands of pounds. Mind you this is on good authority. There's no difficulty there ; ererything is just as straightforward as can be. Besides, If a man wants money there all he has got to do is to borrow It right off, and of coarse there he Is. Then you are not compelled to stick to one thing in a country like that, yea know. Go farming. You can have your one, two, or three hundred acres, just for a touch of your hat, as I may say — not a copper to pay for it. Wellyou've nothing more todo, butjusttoset to work, clear your land, fence it In, run up your ahanty, put in your crops, and there you are, established for life." " Oh how delightful that would bo, George 1" exclaimed Mrs. Plumley. " Is provisions cheap, Mr. Albosh ?" " 0, amero bagatelle," returned Mr. Albosh. " Need scarcely cost you anything. You would of course have your gun ; very well, you just go into the woods whenever you like, and knock down your two or three dozen wild geese, or pheasants, or perhaps partridges, — or in fact, anything you please. Oli, a mere bagatelle." " And what sort of a climate is it, Mr. Al- bosh ?" " Oh, magnificent. Cant be equalled. Sun shining all the year round. It is rather cold at times, I believe, but then it is so thoroughly brilliant that I believe a great-coat is regarded by the Canadians as a kind of phenomenon — a sort of thing they don't understand. To tell you the truth, I've some serious thoughts about that country myself. The very place for a man like me. Suppose I had this discovery I'm speaking of in Canada. Well, it would be just in this way : I should go to the Government and say to them, now, you are essentially an agricultural nation — the prosperity of agricul- ture is the prosperity of the nation. Very well. Now, I have a discovery with such and such advantages, and requiring so and so — a mere bagatelle to you, I may say — to carry it out. Well, sir, I would undertake to say that in less than a week I would have that thing in ope- ration, under the immediate auspices of the Government. That's the way a man gets on in a country like that. Plumley, my advice to you is to get to Canada." Mr. Albosh, w^o appeared to have become completely oblivious of his business engage- ments, continued to rattle away at this rate for two or three hours. When he rose and took his departure, the closing of th<; door behind him """: the signal for a general Plutoley ex- clamation, from little Lizy up to big Selina, to the effect that, after all said and done, Canada must be a delightful country. And every way and means and mancouvre, possible and impos- there all he has (f, and of conrte it compelled to r like that, 70a have your one, it for a touch of par to pay for it. but Just to set to in, run up your 1 there you are, lid bo, George 1" rovisions cheap, lod Mr. Albosh. ig. You would T well, you just I like, and knock I wild geese, or jes, — or in fact, ere bagatelle." e is it, Mr. Al- equalled. Sun is rather cold at i so thoroughly coat is regarded phenomenon — a [stand. To tell thoughts about place for a man discovery I'm it would be just he Government essentially an rity of agricul- on. Very well. such and such nd so — a mere ,0 carry it out. say that in less thing in ope- uspices of the man gets on in my advice to have become jiness engage- at this rate for rose and took door behind il Plutoley ex- big Selina, to done, Canada Ind every way t>le and impos- OP SIMON SEEK. tl possible, reasonable and unreasonable, through which the faintest chance presented itself of procuring the wherewith to escape to that land of plenty and sunshine, was discussed at full length ; and after a full and complete list of all and every the friends and relations and likely acquaintances of both branches of the Plumley family had been made out in a bold text hand, it was agreed that, as that was the only source, (although Mr. Plumley said that, by George, it touched him to the quick, that's what it did,) their assistance and eo-operation should bt solicited, and that every nerve should be forth* with strained, with the view to carry the pro> ject to a satisfactory hsue. The Plumley family retired to rest that nifht with lighter hearts and haj^pier minds than they had carried to their couches for many % loBf day, in the hopeful anticipation of e^e lonf beholding their sorrows and troubles dissolved and forgotten and lost in the happy sanshin* of the <■ Land of the West." CHAPTER IV. THE VOICE OP CONSCIENCE Onward he flies I onward, onward, through the jostling crowds, that rumble to and fro, — now in the midst of the turbulent stream that rolis along the footway, now in the road, dash- ing through the labyrinth of wheels and hoofs and whips and tumult, with his hands upon his ears, his eyes glaring vacantly before him, and a death-pallor on his cheek,— on, on he flies I A thousand eyes are upon him, the motley crowds murmur as they pass, and point the fin- ger at the fugitive ; but onward he flies, onward, onward I — the voice of Conscience is behind him I It was the man who accosted the child shoe- black, as we saw in the last chapter. He rushed across the bridge, dashed through street after street, with his hands still clasped upon his ear8,and with the same wild and terrified appear- ance, until he turned into St. Paul's Church- yard ; when he slackened his pace, removed his hands, and became gradually more compos- ed. At the bottom of Ludgate Hill his eye fell upon an individual who was proceeding in the same direction, a few paces before him. He instantly quickened his speed, and, muttering indistinctly to himself, seized the man by the arm. " Ah, Bolton 1 " he said, turning fiercely up- on him; "yon have left the office. What news?" The individual was so bewildered by the ex- traordinary wildness of the other's manner, that he stood gazing at him in astonishment for se- veral seconds before he was able to reply. " No news," he said at length. " Why, what's the matter ? " he added disengaging hit arm, which the other still grasped as though half unconscious of what he was doing. " Ton look as wild and frightened as a child that'l found out. Why didn't you come down to the oflice 7 I've been expecting you all the after^ noon." " Ay, why didn't 1 1 " said the other, speaking more to himself than to his companion. " Whjr didn't 1 1 What is the day of the month, Bol- ton ?" " The twentieth." " I know that," he returned, looking fiercely about him, and again seizing his companion by the arm. " I have just learnt that, Bolton, although I had forgotten it up to the last half- hour. Why didn't 1 1 Come, come this way," he added taking the other's arm and hurrying him away in the direction of the Strand, "and I will tell you why. Ay, Why didn't I ? Why was I dragged across that bridge ? I had no business there. What did I want there ? and yet I was dragged there, — dragged like a child without a will. It is the 20th, Bolton, yon say ? Yes ; I know that now. But as I came down this pavement two hours ago I tried in vain to recollect even the month. Look, lookl" he exclaimed pointing to a poor, miserable crea- ture with a child in her arms, who was coming towards them. " She is going to accost us t Give her something, Bolton, and let her go. For God's sake let her go I Why, man, I say give her what she wants, and send her off 1 " The extraordinary excitement into which he threw himself, so completely disconcerted his 2 29 LIFE AND ADVENTUUE8 •onpanlon, that h« WM twie* m long diipoi* Inf of tha woman u he would otherwii* bars Utn. '< Why, Blaokbourn," he lald, when the beg- gar had diiappeared, " what on earth hai got hold of you 7 You are a pretty follow to be •ueh a faithAil lerrant of the Old One. If he •ervei you out like thii, I ihonld out hia acquaint- ance." At he turned away hii head after thit remark, there wae a imila of «atltfkotion on hie counte- nance, that muet have been a vn^^ distant con- nectiM of the iympathetlo. " Bolton," laid the other, turning his florce •yei upon him, " there is a fasriiiation even in thii ; madness has a fascination In it. It is an intoxication of the soul that cricH, more, more t while you are still whirling in its delirium. I hare been for ever flying from it, and yet for erer pursuing H A-om a child. Hut como ; I muathavosomoexcltomcnt to-night— nny tiling. What is going on ? Ilcro, stop, Hollou— billiards I —this will do, como this way." So saying, he hurried his companion Into a billiard-saloon that happened to bo close by ; and here they played and drank, and dronk and played, in wiilrl of excitement, for two or three hours. But the " intoxiiafed soul" was not at rest. Jivery now and then its victim let fall his cue, stamitcd upon tlio ground, and, mumbling to himself, darted hia fierce eyes to- wards tlio door, as if something in that direc- tion annoyed him. At length he dashed hia cue to tho opposite end of the room, stamped like a maniac with his foot, and, throwing a terrible glance roimd the room, exclaimed, " Why must they jingle that accursed bell? Can't some ono stop it ? Como, come, Bolton," he added, suppressing his excitement and tak- ing his friend by the arm ; " I can't stand this jingle,— no bolls to night ; it calls up the old ghost. Come ; somewhere else— we've liad enough of this." They regained tho street, and hurried along through the sleet and rain that was now fall- ing fast, until they turned into Covent Garden market. Here a gang of idlers and vagabonds had assembled to witness tho prog.ess, towards Bow Street, of a miserable little child-thief, whom a zealous aud active m. uj jtr of "the Force " had just succeeded in capturin ; 'n the very fact of devouring a whole si.mloy vtiiich he had just purloined from a upighV'OjrIng cookshop, while the inmates wer>; cnga^A r in discussing their supper in sweet uaconscious- nesi of wrong. " Look, Bolton," laid he of the intoxicated •oul, pointing to the little thief; " do you i— that boy 7 " " Well," laid Bolton. •' Did I ever tell you my history 7 " " No ; but I know a little of it." " Ay, well ; I wonder what the urchin hai been at. What has tho boy done," he said, ac- costing the policeman. " Robbery, robbery," replied tho functionary, giving the boy a confirmatory shake, and throw- ing a resolute glance into the midst of the as- sembled vagabonds to Inspire them with a pro- per estimation of his thorough invincibility in the event of a rescue being contemplated. " Ah, he's very young," said Ulackbourn. " Young I" said the invinsible authority, to* certain extent thunderstruck at tlie tliought. " If you'd seed him do it, I think you'd a said ho was something of a old un. Lor bless you I nl)out as old as you or mo. There, no resist- ance, you young cut-tliroat, you." " Hull ! " cried liluckbourn relapsing into his former humour ami turning hastily away. " Conic, Bolton. Where now? Anywhere; where shall it be?" Bolton, wlio had just boonoxRinioing a play- bill witli some ap])urcut satist'uction, nodded to hiinscirand S4uei;>^cd his liands together and winked silently on one side, aa niucli as to as- sure himself tliat tlia' would do, and remarked: " Come ; Drury Lane's ojten — what do you say to tliat? Here w« arc, close upon it— its better than notliing." Blackbourn offcrcil no objection, and tho other hurried liim along, keeping him in con- versation, and carefully diverting his attention from tho play-biiia that were posted on the walla, until they were seated in a private box. The piece was a melodrama of" tlirilling into- reat," in which a wronged maiden and a found- ling boy were the leading features. But it soon made its way to the intoxicated soul of Blackbourn. During tho first scene ho sat pale and trembling, and seemed to be engaged '.uu violent struggle to keep his agitated soui lu subjection. His companion sat beside him and watched him narrowly, while every now and then he reached his head forward to examine tho contents of a box something nearer the centre on tho opposite side, which consisted of an elderly lady and gentleman, and twoyoung ladies :f decidedly prepossessing appearance. IIo sat no as to prevent his companion, as much a nossible, from seeing the occupants of this bu.., while he squeezed and twisted his hands OF SIMON b£BK. 98 intoslcattd ' do 70U IM 7" urchin bM < b« lAivli *o* ftinctlonsry, e, and throw- lit of the M- n with a pro- vlnclblUtjr la mplatcd. ickbourn. uthorlty, to a the thought. L you'd a said ,or bless you 1 pre, no rosist- psing Into his nastily away. Any where ; nlning a play- ctlon, nodded s together and n\ich as to as- nd remarked : what do you upon It— Its ^ion, and the him in con- his attention [osted on the Li private box. |thrilling Inte- and a found- Ires. But it Icated soul of le he sat pale [engogef^ ■: ' lated sou» iu isido him and jery now and Id to examine Ig nearer the consisted of id two young appearance, lion, as much Lants of this led his hands tofttber, nodded and smlUd ooBfldeniljr to blm" ••If, and seemed on th* whoU to derive oonai- derabla ■atiifnctlon from th« general aapeot of •ffalra. During the wcon en«, Blackbourn'a agita- tion Inoraaaed. Hit lip quUered, the persplra- tl n itrod upon hit forehead, hi* head moT«d to anl firo as if Inpalled by an unteen hand, and it waa erident there waa a powerful com- BtJtion going on within him ; but he neTerthe- laaa appeared rivetted to the apot, and acarcely remoTcd hla eyea from the atage for a alngle moment, up*i1 the aceno closed ; when he aud- denly sprang to hla feet, nmi aeiztng hla com- panion with bothhnfi nri, "td timed, " Confualon in on W . y 11..I we come here? Why did wo c> 'm heie, I aay ■»" "Hold!" aaM BcM ", "do you know what you nth rbcut? Do you are who is in the op- posite 'la, uore? Look, the whole family of the HcOamiTonu." As be directed the other's attention to the box, he turned away his head, and a malicious Hmilo played about his fcaturns, while his hands came together, and moved silently round and round each oth' r until thoy appeared to have become amatgainatcd into one. " Oood Ood !" exclaimed lllackbourn, as his eye fell upon the occupants of the box. " This is the devil's night I come — enough of this I" Ho turned round, rushed out of the box, and regained the street, followed by Bolton, rubbing his hands and nodding secret satisfaction to himself "Come, come," said Blackbourn hurrying away towards the Strand ; " there Is only one solace to night, only one. She may still be up. Home, Bolton, home 1 Will you come ?" Bolton complied, and they immediately hailed a cab and gave the word, to Berkeley Square. They drew up at one of tho darkest and smokiest of that smoked-out collection of de- parting exoelknce, ac' dismissed the cm.. The door W!i , ued by a long, thin, smoked-out servant in tights and slippers, who performed his office with profound respect until he found himself a little in the rear, when he winked fa- miliarly on Mr. Bolton, and nodded tvsward' his master with the assistance of his fore&ng*r, as much as to intimate that he was perfectly ji"'''- ed up on the whole affair. " Has Hiss Alice retired yet, William ? " said Blackbourn. " Miss Alice have retired, sir," reply William respectfully. " Hem, ah. What noise is that 1" cried Black- bourn, turning and laying a hand on BoUon'a should''!- "I'm afraid that wore Jans laughing, air," n- piled the respected William. '* Bah I Tell Jane tu lauifh if she must laugh, and not to scraam. Gome, Bolton. WillUn, glasses in the llbrar) " " YcK, i\r," said William ; and when he had winked a second tlma on Hr. Bolton, and poked an imaginary rib in his maatar'a aide with hli forefinger, he retired reapectfhlly. " Bolton, you will axeuaa ma for a few mo* menta," aald Blackbourn aa aoon aa they had entered the library. " I muat aee her. A taw momenta and you will find ma a difllerant be- ing." He ascended the staira to the aecond floor and rapped gently at one of the room doora. ReoelT- Ing no answer, he opened it careftilly and went in. He evidently expected to find that Ita oc- cupant, who was a beautiful little girl, appa- rently about cloven or twelve years of age, had retired to rest ; and he started in surprise when he saw her asleep, with her head resting on a little miniature table which she had drawn to the bcd-sido. He closed tho door, and, heaving a long breath, as if he felt suddenly relieved from a heavy load, he suid, " Gonot" An extraordinary change appeared to come over him. His features, which had been partial- ly distorted, and had worn a wild and domoniar expression throughout the evening, became in stantly calm and composed. He moved across the room with a light and steady step, and his whole demeanor was altogether as mild as it hadhithertobeenboisterous. TL^re seemed to be a holy influence pervading the very atmosphere of the apartment, that spoke peace to his intoxi- cated and turbulent soul. He sat beside the child and bent his eyes in silence upon her for a considerable time. A profound calm had over- spread his features, and, so completely was the demon dispelled from his mind, that he almost looked an object of admiration, rather than of terror, as he bent his dark, expressive eyes on the sleeping angel before him, and drank of the balmy unction that flowed from her innocent being. He was a man of some thirty-six years of age tall and well proportioned, and might almost hftvx been regarded as handsome. There was Ii„-*jver a withering expression in his large, dark eye, and a singular contraction on one side »f the countenance, which left it a sterile blank under all emotions, and rendered it almost m 24 LIFE AND ADVENTURES III J pi.'ill ' III;: IJi: I! impossible to contemplate his features witli any feelings of pleasure. After lie had sat beside her for some time, motionless and in silence, he gently raised her little hand from the table and laid it upon his own. She started, and woke. " Alice," he said with some approach to affec- tion. The color had left her cheek, and she trem- bled as if with cold. She raised her pensive little eyes to his, and a melancholy beauty beam- ed through her features as she gazed on him in silence. She tried to smile, but there was ntx unseen power within her that seemed to forbid her. " Alice," he said again. She moved her lips as if attempting to speak, hut the sam 9 power had possession of her tongue, and no souud escaped her. There they sat gaz- ing at each other in sad, melancholy silence; no words escaped them, and yet their souls held str'^nge communion together, and the wild intoxicition of the one was subdued, while the holy calm and innocence of the other was ru£Bed and disturbed. While Blackbourn waL< thus engaged, Bolton and th(t respectf\il William vTere improving the time by enlarging upon the confidence silent- ly, but no doubt voluminously, expressed in the language of the eye behind their master's coat-tails in the hall a moment before. Bolton had established himself in an easy altitude, with his legs crossed, his elbow rest- ing on the mantle-piece, and his coat-tails dang- ling against the bars of the grate. He was a long, spare, cadaverous-looking personage, with exceedingly prominent points ; and on the whole suggested the idea of a bag of smoked parchment, crammed somewhat indiscriminaite- ly with a heterogenous collection of bones and sawdust. As soon as his master was gone, William en- tered, placed his thumb upon his nose, poked the air with his forefinger in the direction his superior had taken, and proceeded to say, "Bocusl" which, being interpreted, signi- fieth that the estimation in which that indi- vidual was held by him was infinitely small. " Anything new?" asked Bolton. " No, nothing in this quarter," replied Wil- liam. " Only the new victim. He's bent upon that, I believe. I've watched him to the house al- most every day for the last month. Poor thing ; sha's a first rater I believe too. I suppose it's hardly in our line to interfere tho', is it ?" " No, I am afraid nA," replied the other ; " unless it would torment him a bit, — but I don't think it would. He's not soft on that point. From what I've seen of him for the last ten yeart, I think there is nothing like allowing him to complete his villainy, — that is when it touchei him. If I hadn't been satisfied of that, and hadn't seen what a living curse he is to him- self, I think I should have mustered the cou- rage to have got up an explosion before this, although he is such a savage tiger to deal with. I've just seen her. We dropped into Drury Lane as we came along, and she happened to be there." " Ah I poor thing," said William, putting his head outside the door to ascertain that the tiger was not within hearing. " Well, I think, as you say, he pays the reckoning pretty well OS he goes ; for if ever I see a man move about with the rack on him, that's him. Only think of the perpetual torment that that poor dear little crp>'ture must be to him. Just look at that. There's as perfect a little beauty as ever breathed, with as sweet a little voice — why, Lor bless you, she charms me every time I hear her speak ; and yet just fancy, that she never was able to speak so much as one individual word to him since she first laid eyes on him. And what's more, I've noticed that she cant eveq smile when she's looking at him — try ai she will, she cant do it : aint tlu^i, a judgment for you ? It strikes me I never heard anything to beat it." • "I tell you what, Bill," said Bolton, «'I look upon that as the most awful thing I ever heard of. I've thrown myself away — I know that, through sheer desperation perhaps, and I shall never rest until I've done what I've sworn to ; but if I had a judgment like that to haunt me, I believe I should go mad— thoroughly mad, Bill. It must be fearful. He is a pretty tough piece of stuff, but I think he's going that way fast." " That's right enough," rejoind William. " That's what it'll end in, I believe. Well, I suppose that will suit you as well as any thing else. You've got your oath, as you say, and I've got my pledge. Your's is a sort of deadly revenge, and mine a protection like. But some how or other they both work one way. I pro- mised I would take care of her, and I'll give up my life but what I don't. And I suppose you'll * There was a child bum in America in the State of Massachusetts who was never able to speak to hii fother, aUhou(;h be found no difficulty in doing aoto any one else. y OF SIMON SEEK. 25 the other ; -but I don't that point, isttenyearf, iring him to sn it touchei of that, and e is to him- red the cou- 1 before this, to deal with. I into Drury i happened to n, putting his ■tain that the Well, I think, ig pretty well in move about . Only think that poor dear Just look at beauty as ever ,e voice — why, sry time I hear that she never one individual id eyes on him. kt she cant ev«Q m— try a« she a judgment for ird anything to lid Bolton, "I ill thing I ever away — I know perhaps, and I what I've sworn :e that to haunt horoughly mad, a pretty tough ;oing that way sjoind William, lieve. Well, I ■ell as any thing ,8 you say, and a sort of deadly like. But some ne way. I pro- and I'll give up I suppose you'll ica in the State of to speak to bis ulty in doing ioto do the other. You've been ten years holding on to it ; and that looks as if you meant it." " I'm coming to it by degrees," said Bolton ; " there will be an explosion before long." And he squeezed bis hands together, and winked and nodded silently to himself as if he were quite batisfied with tlie prospect. The returning footsteps of Blackbourn at this point interrupted them, and William instantly relapsed into the respectful, and quitted the room. " There is no virtue in this wine for me to night," said Blackbourn, who soon began to return to bis former humour after rejoining his companion. " Let us try some brandy, — bran- dy, Bolton." " With all my heart, " said Bolton. " Will you ring — no, no, stop ; I'll call." " By the by," said Bolton when the brandy had completely restored the other to all his former wildness, " what connection had that ragged little thief with your history, Black- bourn ? You were saying something about your history 7" " Ah I I'm a strange being !" replied Black- bourn. "You know that," he added glaring fiercely round the room. " You know that, Bol- ton. Well, well, my history you sny. Very well, we must beguile the time to night with some- thing. But it must be short, — no long doleful stories for me to night. Come, there's the brandy, man. If you areas proof to it as I am, we may drain the cellar without knowing it. Well, Bolton, the first I ever knew of my existence was to find myself a little ragged, letterless boy, like the young thief we saw to night, roving about the streets of Whitechapel, picking pockets ell day, and engaging in all descrip- tions of minor dissipations in the evening. I was the king of a small gang of similar urchins — I was the master spirit ; I ruled them, terrified them, and was idolized by them. One of the things most prominent in my memory at that time, is my being selected by a respectable old man — a preacher in the neighbourhood — as an object of his special attention. He had nearly completed his work with me — I remember the day well ; I look upon it as the one sacred spot in my existence, the only moment in my whole life that I can ever look back upon, and I al- most believe my heart has bled in plain reality, before now, when I have recalled it. I had a small valueless bundle on my arm, I had 'eft my unfortunate little associates, I had turned my back upon my old haunts, I tliought for ever. I was hurrying on to get fairly quit of them, and I remember the feeling of grateful pride and pleasure with which I moved through the crowd as I thought I was no longer a thief; . when I was suddenly seized by the arm, and on looking around I found ihyself in the custody of an ofiBcer. I was taken before a justice, re- cognised as the thief in a street robbery, and sent to the house of correction. I left it what you have alwa};B known me, — a confirmed rogue and vagabond. I left it, with a black spot upon my soul that has stoodf <>ut promi- nently before me, from that moment, to accuse me to myself as a condemned outlaw. It has been a black ghost hanging abou^me ever since ; it has withered every better purpose, destroyed every kindly principle that ever entered into my nature, and, whenever a thought or an emo- tion of anything good has influenced my mind, its black visage has glared upon me with tlie fatal sentence engraven upon its features, ' a con- demned outlaw.' It was one of those early impressions upon a child's susceptible soul, that can never be effaced." There was a wild distress in his manner as he delivered himself of this, that showed he was in earnest, and felt and believed what he said. " It seemed to me," he continued, " that fate had carved out the road I was to follow, and I never entertained a serious thought of attempt- ing to avoid it. When I took to read and to study, my accusing Familiar was beside me, and I studied only that I might become the more accomplished rogue. When I entered into honest employment, the black spot of my existence went before me, and I became honest for the time, only that I might qualify myself for a rogue of higher order. I was always insatiably ambitious, and my nature revolted at that which was petty and con- temptible even in villainy. Whether I was born naturally clever, or whether there has always been some external influence actuating mc, and whether I should have been equally successful in another channel, I don't know; but certain it is, that I never attempted any- thing villainous and bad that I was not able to accomplish beyond all my expectations. It seems to work out itself without any effort on my part, it matters not whi t i' is. Bolton," he cried falling back in his chair and looking fiercely at his companion, "did you ever feel this, that I'm about to tell you. Whenever I have a piece of villainy in hand, I see it all, to its final completion, stand out before me, as though it were pniuted on a canvas and carried perpe- tually before my eyes ; and above it, where its ^ LIFE AND ADVENTURES mi^ \(l ililh ll^ill '••I; rii,' ■ ■I'lii last 8ceae cloBes, hovers a black demon, a thing of tortures, into whose arms I fall as soon as I have done the devil's bidding. But it is strange, Bolton, that that object, and that alone, is the fascination that draws me onward step by step. I see that, and only that, as the object for which I rack my brains and toil day after day. There it hangs, and fascinates me on, over every ob- stacle; barrier after barrier gives way before the desperation with which I struggle towards it ; until the work is completed, the object is gained, and I reach the goal for which I have struggled, to find that I have conjured up a new demon in my brain, that I can never again expel. I never get rid of it. I am to-night under the influence of one of these devils ; and it was ten years ago that — hark 1" he cried springing to his feet and clapping his hands to his ears ; " who's doing that?" It was the hall-bell. "Mr. Growley, sir," said William, presenting himself in explanation. " Something moving," said Bolton, seeing that Blackbourn glanced at him enquiringly, as he resumed his seat. Mr. Growley was evidently a man possessing but a small amount of prejudice in favor of the usages of polite society. This at once became abundantly evident from the uninvited appear- ance of a large bony head, embellished with a fruitful crop of red whisker, loose red hair, and pimples, — the private property of that indivi- dual. The head preceded a large bony body to match, decorated in brown, with a dash of yellow about the neck : the whole being mount- ed on a pair^-or rather two legs — the one ex- tending by a series of obtuse angles to the usual termination on the ground, while the other stopped short some seven or eight inchcB above it, requiring an ingenious appliance of art and iron to carry it to its proper destina- tion. William having retired respectfully, after forwarding a telegram, with the joint assist- ance of his forefinger and nose, to his con- fidential friend Mr. Bolton ; Blackbourn, ad- dressing himself to Mr. Growley, said, " Well ?" Mr. Growley nodded to both gentlemen, seat- ed himself between them, poured out half a tumbler of brandy, and said, as he carried it to his lips, " I suppose you've heard ?" " No ; what?" said Blackbourn. " Gome, out with it, w'.atever it is ?" added Bolton. IS " She's arrived at Liverpool," said Mr Grow- ley- . '■• ;'■ •;,-. ^ :■:- "Ay?" ' ' " "Just telegraphed; and the whole thing's blown," said Mr. Growley. " So, our grand Californian mining and quartss-crushing hum- bug is finally crushed at last ; and if we escape without getting finally crushed with it, why it is more luck than I look for." Mr. Growley sipped his brandy in perfect composure, notwithstanding his melancholy ap- prehensions ; but the others, and especially Bolton, seemed to view the aflfair from a different aspect. "What's to be done ?" enquired Bolton. " Well," said Mr. Growley, raising his glass and examining its contents with one eye ; "I'm off. This country has been warm for some time past, but now its getting decidedly hot. I'm off. I think I shall take to rural simplici- ty and innocence in the backwoods,forachange: ha hat" " Bah 1" said Blackbourn, starting to his feet and pacing the room to and fro. "It is not time for that. What are you afraid of ?— a few paltry penniless fellows in the shape of one" pound shareholders ? Bah ! I don't run away from such pursuers as that. We must manage them. Callaspecialmeetingatonce; don'tlosea moment. Lead them to expect some extraordi- nary intelligence ; and leave the rest to me." " I'm more inclined for the bolt," said Grow- ley, playing with the loose end of his necker- chief. " I think it would be best," echoed Bolton. " I happen to know that it is not," re- joined Blackbourn, scowling from one to the other. " My name must stand good for another week or two yet. There is another matter in hand : the stakes are too large to lose. I must have three weeks at least." " I tell you what, Blackbourn," said Mr. Grow- ley, " you had better leave that job alone. Not that it makes any difference to me, but just take a friend's advice." " So I think," added Bolton. " What I" said Blackbourn, clutching the back of his chair with both hands and throwing back his head with a wild air, " is this what yon have learnt of me in ten years ? Bolton, I never retreat. I saw her to-night, and over her hung the canvas of her destiny — a dark shadow was above it! — I know the end. I'll tell you when it is time to fly. It is not yet. Do what I tell you to-morrow, and I'll vouch for the result." " Well, I suppose it's got to be done," said \ OF SIMON SEEK. w laid Mr Grow- whole thing's one eye ; " I'm Mr. Grow.'iy finishing his brandy ; " but I tell you what, Blackbourn, if you lead us into a trap it wont be the best job you ever did." " You Know the value I attach to threats," re- plied Blackbourn. " But there is no trap ; I tell you I can keep all straight for three weeks, if I don't baulk them altogether. Will that do for you ?" Both gentlemen seemed to think, after a lit- tle reflection, that it would do ; and Bolton having received intimation, by means of sundry nudges in the side, and several jerks of the large, red head appertaining to Mr. Growley, towards the door, that that gentleman wished to retire with him in company, they agreed to perform their part of the business as dictated, and, after a little further discussion of the sub- ject, they quitted the house together. Blackbourn stood for some time in the centre of the room, running his haul mechani- cally through his hair, while the violent com- pression of his lips, and the wild agony that shot from his eye, showed that his tormenting Familiar was returning, and gradually whirling his soul into a new delirium. It was an un- seen terror, an incorporeal foe — he had no wea- pons to combat it, and his giant spirit, that would have defied an army of men in as despe- rate a cause, fell prostrate and trembling before it. There he stood until his body writhed to and fro, and every limb trembled, and everj fibre was dilated wiih terror : he could resist it no longer. He stamped^ upon the ground, struck his forehead with his clinched hand, and, snatching up the lamp from tne table, rushed furiously away to that chamber of innocsnce, into which this tormentor seemed forbidden to follow him. He stands within the influence of her inno- cent spirit ; he gazes upon those calm and placid features, that beam with the purity of heaven,^ the demon has fled him, the fire of his brain is quenched, and a profound calm Las fallen upon his intoxicated soul. CHAPTER V. NEW FACES, AND NEW PROSPECTS. \ Now, at about this period of the world's his- tory the canker-worm of corruption had crept into the very heart of the political, financial, and moral institutions of Old England, and a state of unqualified rottenness and political de- pravity had obtained. And such being the lamentable position of afiairs, the question naturally suggested itself to every well-regula- ted mind, and every well-regulated mind natu- rally put the question emphatically to every other well-regulated mind, 'What was to be done ?' When a great and glorious response was straightway heard to proceed from the councils of a noble institution then and at that time assembled within ti;e confines and under the shadow of a stronghold known to the pub- lic generally as the Crouching Lion, and situate in the immediate vicinity of the New Cut, in the Boro' I The " Lion-at-bay Discus- sion and National Protection Society " was a great institution. It had for its object the total and universal amelioration of oppress- ed humanity, by no less an achievement than the entire uprooting and remodelling of the entire British Constitution. It was composed of a formidable league of no less than fifteen resolute men ; men having a just appre- ciation of the rights of humanity, and their own wrongs — men inspired intuitively, so to speak, with the governing principle — men who were the true champions of freedom — repudiating the bugbear of laws generally, going in for community of goods, ignoring the physical de- gradation of manual labor, despising servility, and living on their wits. The discussion Forum : — A long room, with a long table in the centre, covered with pipe- clay, glass, and pewter-pots ; the requisite com- plement of Windsor chairs, and sundry graphic delineations of pugilistic warfare on the walls. Full of smoke, foul air, and the voice of the Society's champion — who is certainly a small man for the embodiment of so great an idea. He stands at an elevation of not more thaa five feet two, inclusive of three inches of per- pendicular hair that shoots up in a direct line towards the heavens, from the summit of a conical ball of polished masonry (at least that 26 LIFE AND ADVENTURES ! !l ! i: ,ii m 4<" •tl ii;i ia what it looks like) whicli serves the purpos- es of a head. There is a total absence of linen and nap about his personal arrangements. His coat is buttoned close up to his chin, his nether garments strapped tightly under his boots, and, with the great length of head and hair protruding above his coat-collar, he looks extremely like a dwarf specimen of the human genus in a state of seed. He stands at the head of the table, and the other members of the insti- tution, who are somewhat doubtful-looking personages, arrayed in a combination of fustian, corduroy, and polished black, are seated around it. At the bottom of the table is the vice- chairman, who is an equally small arrangement, and by no means imposing either in his personal appearance or his oratorical powers, which latter he principally displays in improving on the lead- er's remarks, with short, pithy observations such as, ' That's reg'lar plain, that is,' ' By George, if that aint reg'lar fust-rate and no mistake,' and so fourth ; from which it would perhaps not require a very great stretch of the imagina- tion to arrive at the conclusion that it is no less a personage than our eccentric little ac- quaintance, Timothy : that proud position hav- ing been conferred upon him in virtue of a strong friendship existing between the cham- pion leader and himself; an act which, unfortu- nately for the good promise of the integrity of the Society, when it should come to be invested with power, was in itself a flagrant example of favoritism. "I tell you, gentlemen," said the champion clinching the idea, before it was produced, with a thump on the table, " the inscrutable pertinacity of the minions of power is whirl- ing the sacridotal fundaments of constitution- al freedom into incomprehensible ambiguity (cheers). Look at the working classes! Look at the masses, I may sayl And tell me if the soul of freedom aint crushed into infinitisi- mal atoms by the sacridotal ascendency of a concatination of vampires ? (hear, hear). Well, then, are men of intelligence, men of perspicuity, to bend the supple knee before the contumacious ascendancy of an inscrutable hallucination of tyranical phantoms ? (a voice, Down with the Pope !) I dont know what that gentleman means by, Down with the Pope," continued the champion doubtfully ; "butif he means to elu- cidate the fundamental principles of homogene- ous action, I cordially acquiesce in the full spirit of the declaration (cheers). Gentlemen, we must rouse ourselves. We must act together and with resolution ; and when the slumbering lioq that is now lying ready for his spring in the jungles of this mighty nation, is once aroused, we shall annihilate the whole conca- tination of sacridotal imbecilities at one tre- mendous blow." " Blest I what a fust-rate sledge that'll take," said Timothy, who invariably took the funny side of the question. " Come, none of that," said the champion, who regarded the interruption as irrelevant. " Oh, freedom of speech, freedom of speech," cried the company, jealous lest their champion should violate the principles of the institution, by attempting to bind their consciences. "Don't be inscrutably pertinacious," cried the champion indignantly. " What has free- dom of speech got to do with incomprehensible ambiguity like that?" " Oh, everything, everything," cried the com- pany, in some confusion. " Silence," shouted the champion. " It's my opinion," said the most zealous member of the institution, rising and striking the table with the back of his hand, " that our liberties, as members of this here Surciety, is bein' refringed upon ; and I protests agen it 1" Hear, hear, and cheers, from the company. " Silence 1" shouted the leader. " Give us our rights 1" bellowed the company. "Silence 1" reiterated the champion. But his dominion, for the time, was gone. The company rose, one after another, and pro- tested against any infringement of their rij^hta and liberties as free men and Englishmen ; and the more the champion shouted for silence, the more noisy and boisterous they became ; until the glasses and pewter began to fly across tfce table, and blows began to pass somewhat in- discriminately from one to another, and a ge- neral stand-up fight for the liberty of conscience and freedom of speech ensued. As the general aspect of affairs was decidedly against the champion, and all hopes of re-establishing order had vanished, he seized his hat (a napless beaver) in the midst of tlie confusion, and mnde good his retreat. " I didn't go for to make a row, Lus," said Timothy, wlio had followed the champion into the street. Lus was the short for Theophilus ; Theophi- lus Kwack being the title by which the cham- pion counted one in the census. " Why, of course you didn't," said Mr. Kwack. '' But, between you and me, Tim, that's the sacridotal affects of inscrutability." " Well, they're a rum lot," said Timothy. OF SIMON SEEK. 29 ius," said "Rum I" said Theophilus, "they are the most pertinacious set of blockheads that ever I had to elucidate an idea to. Where are you going, Tim I" "Home, I think." " Well, so shall I. I want to study to-hight." Mr. Kwack's home was a small, unassuming apartment, in the same house and on the same floor with the Plumleys. As he opened his door, after parting with Timothy, and his eye fell upon a stump— or rather stumpZest bed- stead, supported by half a dozen bricks, an in- verted coal-scuttle, and a pitcher ; two bottom- less chairs ; a table in the last stage of the rickets, and the ruins of a bandbox, — he heaved a sigh. And when he turned from these to a finely chiselled bust of one of the ancient philo- sophers, which stood upon the mantlepiece — minus a head — he heaved another, and strait- way plunged, for consolation, into the depths of his library, which consisted of a Chronologi- cal Table, and a Johnson's Dictionary ; in the philosophical beauties of which he soon be- came entirely oblivious to the meaner world and its troubles. " Might I go for to speak a word with Lus ?" , said Timothy, dropping his head into the room after the philosopher had been thus engaged for some time. " Elucidate away, my friend," said the philo- sopher. " You couldn't spare a few minutes to come and talk to Mrs. Plumley abit, could you?" said Timothy. " The gov'nor's uncommon late to-night, and she's reglar low, and no mistake." " Certainly," said Mr. Kwack; and he immedi- ately closed the immortal volume and replaced it upon the shoulders of the philosopher in the place of the original head. "Is'pose you're reg'lar sweet upon study, Lus," said Timothy, as they proceeded to Mrs. Plumley's apartment, " Why, yes ; almost my only gastronomic re- generator, Tim," returned the philosopher, as they entered the room. " Mrs. Plumley, I hope you're salubrious ?" Mrs. Plumley looked perhaps more dejected than we have before seen her. She was lean- ing forward with her hand supporting her head. The children had retired. " Yes, I'm pretty well in health, thank you, Mr. Kwack," returned Mrs. Plumley. " Miss Plumley, I hope I see you convales- cent?" added Mr. Kwack, addressing the Victim, who was seated before the fire, in precisely the same attitude in which we last found her. " No ; but Pm used to it. I've been » victim — a poor miserable victim, but Pm used to it," returned the Victim, addressing the fire, and throwing into it a sigh that seemed to quench the little life remaining }n it. " Well, Mrs. Plumley," said Mr. Kwack, who considered that it devolved upon him to dissi- pate the general low spirits ; " as Johnson beaatifUUy observes, to be dull is to be miser- able, low-spirited, dejected; and, upon my word, after all it would b^ very di£Bcult to elucidate any real fundamental benefit arising from it. How about Canada ?" Mrs. Plumley shook her head. 'i " Well, as Pve often said to Mr. P. nil det- perandum, I don't see that you would gain much by turning your back upon your native soil ; that is, unless things are going to remain as they are. But, take my word for it, the storm is gathering, the train is fired, and there will be an explosion before long. And then down comes your haughty usurpers of sacrido- tal puissance, and up goes the oppressed deni- zens of an incontrovertible tyranny. So, if you take my advice, Mrs. Plumley, you'll just quietly wait the issue, in your own native country — which I may say is the birthright and patrimony of every Englishman." Mrs. Plumley turned her half-tearful eyes on Mr. Kwack, and smiled and shook her head, for she had sufficient penetration to perceive that neither the philosopher's ideas nor his mode of expressing them were particularly lucid. " Have you seen George to-day, ir. Kwack?" she enquired ; for her mind was dwelling on her absent husband, and picturing a multitude of disasters as the probable cause of his being so late. " No, Pve not," returned Mr. Kwack. "He is rather late to-night?" " Yes, very late. I scarcely ever remember his being so late. He is very much distressed, Mr. Kwack. We have tried all our friends — every one, I believe — and we can get no assistance at all, Mr. Kwack. They don't even speak kindly to us, they don't ; and Pm sure I don't know what we've done wrong — what could we, Mr. Kwack ? we've tried to do our best, Pm sure we have." Mrs. Plumley was fairly in tears. " Well, -Vfell," said "Mr. Kwack, soothingly, " you must cheer up, Mrs. Plumley. I can only refer you to Johnson. There's your con- solation. Anything uncommon, is new, rare, or unusual; therefore this being something un- 80 LIFE AND ADVENTURES common, it naturally followa that something now, rare, or unusual has transpired. There- forCj since it is literally Impossible for your present ciroumstancos to be rendered anything worse, to oome to the argument logically, it follows, as a matter of course, that something beneflcial, something elucidatory of good has taken place." In proof of the soundness of this reasoning, deduced from the philosophy of the immortal Lexicographer, in a very few minutes Mr. Plumley made his appearance, sure enough, with a lighter step than was wont to bring him home, and a brighter smile upon his hnggnrd face than had been seen there for many a long day. Mrs. Piumiey flew to the door to meet him, and tears of gratitude started to her eyes as she belield the unloolcod-for cliango in his beloved countenance. " Good nowB, girl," said Mr. Plumley, " good news I Sclina, girl, good news !" " Ah I it's too late," sigiied Miss Seiina, " too late. I wish you had lot me go into service, George ; I could but have been a victim." " There, there," said Mr. Plumley ; " a little patience, Seiina — only a little patience, girl, and I'll bo bound to say it's all for the best, after ail. Mr. Kwaclc, it's a lorn* time since I brought home any good news, and it seems to quite overpower me, like. You'll excuse me," he said, endeavouring to smile down the tears that came into his eyes as ho watched the grateful emotion of his loving little wife. *' I suppose my two little ones is a-bed, Lizy ?" " Yes, dear." " Well, Lizy, you see Providence is good, after all. As I was a walking down the Boro', after I left here, a-wondcring what ever would become of us, who should I meet but that there gentleman, Mr. McCaraeron, that I painted that houso for the other side of the water. • Why,' says he, ' Mr. Plumley, you aint look- ing well, what's a matter, Mr. Plumley 7' be said. So I went straight and told him the truth about it, just as it is. ' Why,' said he, * that's very bad, Mr. Plumley. I wish I'd been you before,' he said, ' I think I could a done something for you.' And after a good deal more conversation about Canada and different things (he walked with me right across the bridge, by my side, as if there wasn't the least bit of pride in him, at all,) he gave me this card, (he lives at the West End, it 'pears,) and said if I would call on him to-morrow, to'ards the evening, he'd go and make enquiries be- tween whiles about the vessels and that, and see if something couldn't be done for us." "Oh, what a good, dear, kind gentleman he must be," said Mrs. Plumley. " Yes, and after that, Lizy," continued her husband, " as if this was to a been a regular fortunate day altogether, (some how or other it comes like that, Mr. Kwack,) who should I go for to meet but my old master, that I aint soon for so long. Well, ho was very kind, as usuol, and, though he's very sliort o' work himself, he gave me a job right off in his own shop ; and there," said Mr. Plumley, throwing down a half- crown upon the tabic, " tliere, Lizy, is the first money as I've earned for tliis woary long time ; and I look upon tliat, more than anything else, Lizy girl, as a certain surety tliat things is about to change." "Only to think how things do come about," cried Mrs. Plumley. " Would you believe it, George, dear, it's been running in my mind all day long, that you would bring homo some good news. Only to think, how kind I" Poor, dear little woman I sho felt obliged to say something, and what could she have said more interesting? " Yes, it's very strange," said Mr. Plumley, thoughtfully ; " it's very strange, Mr. Kwack, that one meets more kindness from strangers than what they do from their own flesh and blood. I don't want to say anything agen any one, Mr. Kwack, sir, but there's no denying it, that your own flesh and blood will actually let you starve, — starve, Mr. Kwack, they will, sir, I'm sorry to say I've seed it ; and if you get a kindness done you, why it's ton chances that it aint a utter stranger — it's true, Mr. Kwack." " True enough," said Mr. Kwack. " It's a tiling I've never been able to elucidate to my entire satisfaction ; but there is a certain hete- rogeneous superciliousness about one's own consanguinity that entirely flagellates my pers- p'oacity to account for." " Lizy," said Mr. Plumley to his wife as they retired to rest that night, " Lizy, my dear, you may be sure of it that a blessing is a following us with our dear little Simy. Mr. McCameron remembered me telling him about him, and asked mo to bring him with me to-morrow. I always have said, Lizy, as a blessing will at- tend what's right, and you may be sure as there's a Providence a watching over them as tries to act according as their conscience tells them is right — that's what you may be sure of, Lizy." The next day Mr. Plumley, accompanied by Sim( the was lest tber and rath( to St of th Or tion ly-lo fro door OF SIMON SEEK. 91 Simon, made hia way to Mr. MoOameron's, at the West End. Mr. McOameron't residence was situated in Ourzon Street, Majr Fair; and, lest it should (as would be natural) be inferred therefrom that ho was holding the honorable and gallant position of a half-pay oflicer in, or rather out of H. M. S., it may bo expedient here to state that he was in reality holding nothing of the sort. On entering tho street Mr. Plumley's atten- tion was attracted to a small, slender, summer- ly-looking individual, who was pacing to and fro upon the curb-atone before Mr. McCameron's door. " Look, there's Mr. Albosh," said Simon. " So there ia. How do you do, Mr. Albosh ?" said Mr. I'lumlcy, accosting him. " Aint you cold, walking up and doAvn here, sir ?" "Lor, bless me, ia it you?" said Mr. Albosh, throwing himself into a midaummcr attitude, and trying to look warm and in keeping with hia general exterior, although there appeared to be here and there certain unmiatakable indica- tiona of the abacnce of tho proper supply of animal heat. " Gold, sir I" added Mr. Albosh, " I may say I'm rather in a boiling heat — a boiling fury, air. I've been swindled — swindled into beggary and ruin, Plumley, by a gang of sharpers I and the head of them ia in that houac. I've followed him hero ; and I don't leave him until I've planted him safe and sound into the custody of tlie law — no, never I" aaid Mr, Albosh, buttoning up hia coat and cxcrciaing hia arms in the manner of a man preparing for a pugilis- tic encounter. " I'm sorry to hear it, I'm sure, Mr. Alboah/' said Mr. Plumley. " What'a gone wrong 7" " Gone wrong 1" cried Mr. Albosh ; " why, the mining investment ia a swindle. The 'Californian Qold-Miningand Quartz-Cruahing Company' ia nothing bui a phantom. Our agent has been out there a whole month, wandering the whole of California through and through without being able to find aomuch aa the ghost of a shadow of any such company in existence. A fable, sir, — a base fabrication of a lot of swindling sharpers." " I'm very sorry, I'm sure, very sorry," said Mr. Plrmley, who, like the generality of hu- manity, found some considerable difficulty in throwing anything like variety into hia ex- preasions of sympathy. " It's very unfortunate." " It's a complete crash, sir," said Mr. Alboah, " and, above all thinga, to come at thia particu- lar moment, when," he added, taking Mr. Plum- ley confidentially by the arm and lowering his Toice, "a few pounds, a mere bagatelle,— twenty or thirty pounds,— would establish me for. life. Yes, I may tell you, Plumley," be continued, holding up his forefinger to enjoin secrecy, " that I've just hit upon a discore- ry in the color line, a new green, that is a mint of money in itaelf. Besides it requires next to nothing to carry it out, a mere baga- telle, — twenty or thirty pounds, — and there you are, your fortune's madd." " Indeed," said Mr. Plumley. " Have you done anything about the manure yet, Mr. Al- bosh?" " Well — a — no. Standing over for want of funds. But this is the thing I want to concen- trate my mind upon now. You see it is in uni- versal demand — must pay, there is no help for it." " Well, perhaps you'll be here when I come out. I'm going in here," said Mr. Plumley. " In there t why, that's the very house," cried Mr. Albosh. " Perhaps he's gone in on some business," said Mr. Plumley. " What sort of a man is he ?" " Oh, why a tall, black-looking rascal. If you see him, just tell him he is wanted, and caution the people of the house to look after the plate," said Mr. Albosh, resuming his pu- gilistic demonstrations, and unbuttoning his coat to let out the superabundant heat that had generated within his waistcoat. Mr. Plumley was not a man of tho strongest nerves in matters of this sort, and he felt some- what disconcerted, on being ushered into the sanctum of the McCamerons, to find that he had not only Mr. McCameron himself to contend with, but the whole McCameron family, en maite, comprising Mrs. McCameron, and the two Misses McCamerons, with the further addi- tion of a fourth party, who at once atruckMr. Plumley aa being the very individual upon whom Mr. Alboah waa attending outside. Mr. McCameron was a tall individual, some- what bony, with a rather long face, a bald head, no whiakera, li'^ht eyes, and an open heart: which we dot .own as comveying an idea of our peculiar model of a Scotchman. Mrs. Mc- Cameron was a lady of very ample dimensions, measuring any indefinite number of inches round the waist — glorying in pale greens, and given to tight lacing, invisible boots, and hys- terics. Clara, their youngest daughter, was a perfect little Scotch beauty of about fifteen : which of course involves a pair of blue, expres- sive eyea, any amount of rich golden hair, fair transparent a-a-alabaster (dont they call it?) 88 LIFE AND ADVENTURES m m cheeks, and .n unquestionable figure. Her sis- ter, Matilda, wlio was much older, was perhaps not so imposingly |m city ; but there was a calm, pensive, melanchul^ beauty about her, that was more lastingly attractive than the lighter quali- ties of form and feature could ever hope to bo. She was seated beside the " wanted " indiTidual, at the farther end of the room, when Mr. Plum- ley entered, and appeared to be listening to the contents of a letter wh>ch he was readlnj^in a semi-whisper. " TY^eel, come in, my good mon," said Mr. McOameron as Mr. Plumloy s ood waring his bat up and down on the thresl old. " This Ih the party I was telling ye about my dour," ho added, addressing Mrs. McCamen n. " Oh, dear me — yes," said Mr' . McOameron, casting up her eyes in tl^e man icr of one that felt she was perfectly resigned ti. it. " You've been very unfortunate Mr.-- Mr. — " " Plumlcy my dear." " Very unfortunate, Mr. Plumloy. ' •' Thank you, mum, I'm sorry to sa/ I have, mum," replied Mr. Plumloy. " Weel, mon, I've been makin' enquiries for ye," said Mr. McOameron; "and I find you'll hardly be able to manage it this winter, mon. There are no vessels leaving for Oanada now, and it would bo an ower hard time for ye if there were I There '11 be little done in Canada in the winter, I trow, eh Blackbourn 7 Blackbourn — for it was he — replied that he thought so, and busied himself with the letter ho held in his hand. "You see, mon," continued Mr. McOameron, " it's work in the aummer and play in the win- ter with the Canadians ; they mak' the hay while the sun shines. So I trow you would be able to do very little there till the spring, mon." " Thank you, sir," said Mr. Plumley, laying down an imaginary nap on his hat with his coat-sleeve, and preparing for a retreat ; for all his hopes had by this time completely vanish- ed. He thought this was merely an excuse on the part of Mr. McOameron for recalling his promise. " Stop, mon, " said Mr. McC. " You'll be want- ing to do something in the mean, mon ; so I've made arrangements for you with a party in the city, and if you'll just call at my ofiBco to-mor- row, mon, you'll find mo there, and I'll put you in the way of it." " Thank, you sir," said Mr. Plumley ; " I'm sure I am — " "Weel now ye canna' live without work, 80 there are no thanks at a' about it," inter- posed Mr. McOameron. " Oome here, my little mon," he added, addressing Simon. " Look, mj dear, this is tiio laddie. Ulackltourn, that is what we should call in Scotland a bonnio lad- die, eh 7" Blackbourn looked round ; but the moment he caught sight of the boy, he turned pale, and his eye gradually became fixed as if ho were gazing upon an object immediately above the child's head. Simon recognised liim at once, and flew instinctively to Mr. Plumloy's side, and clung to him with an expression of terror. Blackbourn followed him with his eyes, not looking on him, but still i xed upon some unreal object above him ; while his lip quivered, and the blank side of his face became more contract- ed, and perfectly bloodless. " Dear me, what's amiss?" cried Mrs. McOa- meron, throwing a liysterical glance from the child to Blackbourn and back again. " Tilda, there is something wrong! I'm sure there is — Tilda — Olara, quick, I'm I'm — oh dear— Til— da 1" Both Matilda and Olara ran to thoir mamma's assistance, and put into instant operation a largo fan, throe vinegarettes, and a tumbler of water, — ill of which appeared to be kept at hand for such contingencies. " Xo, Tia dear, there is nothing amiss. What is it Tilda?" said Olara. " I dont think there is anything, dear, indeed," replied her sister. " Edward, are you not well?" " Quite, quite, child," said Blackbourn, who, seeing that he had created some confusion, rose to his feet and passed over towards Mrs. McOa- meron, and stood with his back towards tho cause of his discomposure. " How ridiculous of me !" he said smiling, and completely recovering his self-possession a? soon as his back was turned upon the boy. " My dear Mrs. McOameron, pray dont be alarm- ed. The boy bears a striking likeness to an old school-fellow of mine, whom I have great cause to remember, — a very old and dear association to me, Matilda, and really for the moment it completely carried me away. We're strange beings, McOameron — strange beings." " Ha, ha, ha ! well that's singular I " cried Mr. McOameron, who had just succeeded in pro- ducing and polishing up his spectacles for the purpose of looking into the matter. " Upon my word, as we say in Scotland, that's mickle strange. Weel, how's mamma, my dears ?" " Oh, its' notliing. It's only my excessive weakness. Oh, dear 1" sighed Mrs. McOameron, re, my littlo " Look, my urn, that ia bonnio lad- tlie moment cd palo, and s if ho were y above the lim atoncO| imley's aide, on of terror. 9 eyes, not some unreal uivered, and ore contract- Mrs. McOa- ncc from the n. " Tilda, re there is— — oh dear— leir mamma's operation a a tumbler of be kept at miss. What lear, indeed," [ire you not OF SIMON SEEK. 8t deicribing a series of circles in distant vacancy with her eyes. " Well, Mr. Plumley, I shall see you to-mor- row, eh 7 " said Mr. McOameron. *' Thank you, sir, I shall only be too glad to be there, sir," replied Mr. Plunley ; and, with a Qomplic.'.ted performance enlisting the co- operation of his hat, arms, head, and foot, he took his departure. He found Mr. Albosh ensconced under a door- way a few houses down, with his body behind a pillar, his head stretched out into the street, and his eye on Mr. HcCumeron's door ; a change of position accounted for by a complicated shower of hail, rain, and snow, which iv as dash- ing about in all directions, and which was cer- tainly but ill adapted to his midsummer ar- rangements. " Oh, Mr. Albosh," said Mr. Plumley, " I just want to speak to you, if you please. This man as you spoke of; are you sure he is what you say ?" " I am sorry to say there is not the shadow of doubt of it." " Can you prove it 7" " To demonstration." " Then, by George," said Mr Plumley, " there's something wrong. If it's what I think it is, by Oeorge we must stop it. Will you assist me, Mr. Albosh 7" " If it is anything to serve that blackleg rascal out, I'm your man," returned Mr. Albosh recur- ring to his pugilistic symptoms. " Then we must loic no time. Oan you come home with me now, and I'll explain it to you." " No, no no ; not that I" said Mr. Albosh. " I don't mind moving doTt a the street a little way with you," he added taking Mr. Plumley'i arm and moving off; *' but I've got to pounce upon this fellow to-night, come what will." " Perhaps you may get a better chance. I should be glad If you cbuld come." " 'Pon my word, couldn't think of it, Plnml»j — not this evening. Any other time you might have commanded me." *' It'll just be about our tea-time when we get home, Mr. Albosh, if you could make it conve- nient," urged Mr. Plumley, who knew something of Mr. A.'s private resources. " Well, upon my honor, I'm sorry, PTnmloy," said Mr. A. conclusively ; " but a resolution yon know i« a resolution, and it is directly opposed to my nature to give up a thing of this sort when T once enter upon it. If there is one cha- racteristic of my nature, Plumley, more domi- nant than another, I believe it is au invincible determination." In proof of which Mr. Albosh took an extra coil round the arm of his friend' dismissed the subject, and accompanied him homo without f\irther resistance. ibourn, who, )nfusion, rose Mrs. McOa- towards tho smiling, and lossession aE> OD the boy. ontbe alarm- icss to an old c great cause r association c moment it e're strange gs." I " cried Mr. eded in pro- bacies for the "Upon my hat's micklo y dears ?" ny excessive McCameron, CHAPTER VL THE FATHER. " Gkobob, dear," said Mrs. Plumley, as her husband was preparing, with an unusual ex- pression in his countenance, for his visit to Mr. McCameron's on the following day — " George dear, what a blessing it will be if it's all as we think, and you're able to save the poor dear young lady I Only to think, what a shocking 'bad Jian he must be I Besides, Mr. Albosh says he's sure he is ; and then his going to meet you at Mr McCameron's with all the proofs he says, dear, so I'm sure it must be right. Only to think what a bad world it is, George dear 1 But Mr. McCameron wont be oflfended, will he, do jou think ?" " No girl, no. Not if I was wrong ; he's too genuine good-natured," replied her husband. " But then how strange,George dear, about Si- my I to think thktt he should be the very person that Simy was telling u:*. about. And what odd questions he asked him too — only to think I Oh, if some one was to come and take him away from us I Oh, I feel so frightened sometimes, George dear, because I think they might I and how dreadful that would be I Oh, Simy, suppose they was to come and take you away from your poor dear mother, Simy 1" " They shant do that, mother," said Simon, running forward and kissing her. " I wouldn't let them do that. If they were I'd come back again." " you tootsy, wootsy, darling little woos- lem you!" cried Mrs. Plumley, hugging, aud W' LIFE AND ADVENTURES killing, and ihaking her prettj little coun- tenance OTcr him, by way of interpreting thii learned quotation from the " mother tongue." Ai Ur.Plumley mored along the itreet toward! Mr. McOameron'i office, it became evident that he wai laboring under the burden of an idea. Every now and then a luppreiied *' by Oe«. rge," iUuitrated with an emphatit Jerk of the fore- finger, and a lympathetic movement of the head, eicaped him, and more than once elicited an indignant glance Arom a paiier-by, who, proba- bly chancing to be a nameiake of the immor- tal laint who was thui called upon to clinch the idea, conceived that lome indirect offence wai therein levelled againit himself. On reaching the office, he found Mr. Albosh already awaiting his arrival, and walking to and fro with an air of general importance that left no doubt on the mind that he also regarded himself at that moment as the soul and foreshadowing of another ideaof equal weight aud preponderance. " AU, Plumley 1" cried Mr. Albosh, " here you are I It's all arranged. I suppose I am now prepared with the most sweeping evidence that was ever produced to consign an unmitigated rascal to perdition. It has cost me a trifle, but that's nothing — a mere bagatelle." " I'm much obliged to you, I'm sure," said Mr. Plumley. " If you'll be good enough to wait hero a moment, I'll just see if Mr. McCameron's disengaged." " All right 1" replied Mr. Albosh. " Stop, Plumley— one word," he added catching him by the sleeve and speaking with a show of mysterv. " You are a painter, are you not ? Yes, well I jnst want to ask you a question. Would- n't a new pigment — a white — an article that would entirely supersede everything at present in the market, and that might be produced for about a twentieth of the cost — in fact for a mere bagatelle — be a desideratum ?" <' I should think to," replied Mr. Plumley. " Ah, yes — I thought so. I thank you. Then I've got an idea 1" said Mr. Albosh, and he com- menced prancing up and down as if he meant to make the most of it. Mr. McCameron was not at the office, and moreover was not expected there that day. This was a disappointment to Mr. Plumley, who felt that he had something of importance to communicate. But there was no help for it, and there was nothing for him to do but to wait quietly till the next day. If he went to Curzon Street, it would spoil the effect of his communi- cation by giving to it the appearance of an ex- cuse for furtheriug his own interests. An ap- pointment wai therefore made for the next day. They were there, but Mr. HcOameron wai not. They received the same answer : Mr McCameron wai not expected. The following day they were there again, but itill the larae answer. Thii at once luggeited to Mr. Plumley the queition, which he put pointedly to hii friend Mr. Alboih, What could be the reason of it 7 In fact h« began to have his doubts — hii appreheniioni, and he put it further to hii friend, whether he ought not immediately to waive all personal considerations, and to proceed straightway to Ourzon Street and unbosom his mind, whatever reiulti to himself might a' crae from his so doing. Mr. Albosh thought there was something in that luggeition ; but as it was drawing near the noon-day hour, at which nature usually puts forth her craving, he advised that they should first return home and discuss the matter cooly and with deliberation, to ensure against running headlong into an impropriety, which he thought, however trifling, would surely not come under the denomination of a bagatelle. They accordingly returned home, and the mat- ter was duly and soberly discussed, together with a humble repast which Mrs. Plumley had duly prepared. The result of course was, that in something less than an hour afterwards, Mr. Plumley was on his road to Mr. McCameron's private residence. He found him at home and alone with Mrs. Mc- Cameron, who loolced as though she had just recovered from a severe attack of her constitu- tional malady. " Tak' a seat, tak' a seat, mon," said Mr. McCameron waving his visitor to a chair. " I suppose you've been looking for me, mon,doon in the city ? Weel I am almost ashamed to say* it, but I had really almost forgotten ye, mon." " Well, I did want to say a word to you if I could, sir, but not exactly about myself, sir," said Mr. Plumley with some hesitation. " No, of course not, mon," returned Mr. McCa- meron " a man with a family has few cares for himsel', I trow." Mr. Plumley, seeing that he was misappre-^ hended, was about to offer some further expla- nation, but Mr. McCameron, not observing him, continued, " Weel, I'm sorry, mon ; but perhaps If ye had yoursel' a dear darling daughter, mon, that ye were losing, and committing to the care of ano- ther, ye might perhaps be unfitted for business yoursel', mon. My darling bairn (that is what we say in Scotland, and it is a pure word, mon), OF SIMON SEEK. M the Daxt on WM not. fcCameron J they were er. Thiskt e queition, tfr. Alboib, In fact he reheniioni, whether he 11 personal ^ightwaj to 1, whaterer lis so doing, hing in that )g near the sually putft they should atter C00I7 nst running he thought, come under ind the mat- id, together lumloy had 36 was, that rwanls, Mr. cCameron's ith J.Irs, Mc- ihe had just er constitu- said Mr. chair. " I mon,doon imed to say ye, mon." to you if I nyself, sir,"" ion. Mr. McOft- w cares for misappre- ther expla- >rving him,. ps if ye had on, that ye are of ano- or business at is what irord, mon), wa' married yesterday ; and so you'll no' won- der that I've been little mindful of busineis, mon." Mr. Pluroley was completely bewildered. He saw that he was too late ; and that intuitire delicacy which often displays itself as one of the fluest touches of nature, !n her most un- polished subjects, whispered to him — silence. There was a wound already ; the affectionate emotion with which the father spoke of his ab- sent " bairn," showed that he felt less secure of her happiness under the roof of another, and that he felt a father's anxious regret at losing the happy smiles of his beloved one from his fireside. " Thank you, sir," said Mr. Plumley, rising ; " I'm sorry I intruded, sir ; I'm in no hurry, sir. I hope you wont Ihinic I am, by my calling, sir." " Not at all, not at all, mon," replied Mr. McCameron. " I'm sorry you have had all the trouble. But I shall be in the city to-morrow, and if you'll Just call in the morning, I'll see to mak' it all right wi' ye, mon." "Thank you, sir. Good day to you, mum — good day to you, sir." "Stop, mon," said Mr. McCameron, drawing out his purse. " I can't tell how you live, mon ; it's owcr strange, ower strange. Here." He handed him a coin, which Mr. Plumlcy (not being inspired with any of the heroic priu- ciplea that are usually found in the melo-dra- matic world, and from wliich he would at once have perceived that he was destroying the very vitality of his good intentions, by selling them at a price) put into his pocket, and, making bis usual complicated obeisance, withdrew. Mrs. McCameron, who had sat in melancholy silence during tlie above, and appeared to be just hanging between the two worlds of con- sciousness and oblivion, produced a small, thin, consumptive little sigh as soon as Mr. Plumley disappeared, and remarked, " Dear me, poor man. We've all got our troibles. Oh, dear me 1 you are dull, Gordon dear ? no ; don't say you are not, because it distresses me. I can see you are dull, dear." Mr. McCameron sat thoughtfully gazing on his wife, and it was very easy to perceive, as the voice of affection had expressed it, that he was dull. " Martha," he said, addressing his wife after a long pause, " tell me — I may have asked ye the question mony times before — but will ye tell me, Martha, what you really think of Black- bourn?" " Oh now, Gordon," cried Mrs. McCameron, beginning to show signs of her habitual weak- neii, " you are going to recur to that dreadful ■ubjeot. Pray don't — pray don't, Gordon. You know my delicate state. My nerves hare received a terrible shock already. Oh, if there should be anything wrong I Tilda, my darling Tilda I" " Weel, weel," lald Mr. McCameron, sooth- ingly, for he saw that he had touched a danger- ous chord, " I hope not, I hope not ; God send not." But there was a secret something at his heart that evidently troubled him. "It certainly is strange," he said, after another pause, " that I never have been able to learn Anything of his antecedents. His intro- ductions were good, but I find they were only business connections. I sometimes thought him a fine fellow, and sometimes, I must con- fess, I couldn't understand him. And yet it is strange how he has got such a hold of us all ; and how the darling child cam' to tak' to him so. She did love him, Martha — you are sure she loved him, Martha ?" he said, turning his moist- ened eyes earnestly upon hit wife. " Oh, dear me," cried Mrs. McCameron, " what will become of us I Oh, I'm sure I don't know, it is all so dreadfully strange. She al- ways said she did, but then I sometimes thought she didn't. Tilda — my poor dear Tilda 1 Oh, if anything ia wrong, and the poor child in a foreign land I Oh, why did I let her go to Paris? It is all my fault. Tilda — my poor dear Tilda 1" Mrs. McCameron really felt for her absent child, and, contrary to her usual custom, her grief found relief in tears. Their youngest daughter, Clara, entered at this moment, and, seeing her mamma in tears, knelt down by her side, and tried to comfort her. " Weel, weel, wo must hope for the best, Martha," said Mr. McCameron, turning his head away to conceal the tears that ho wiped from his eyes. " And yet," he added, after a long silence, and speaking more as if he were solilo- quising with himself than addressing any one else, " I could have wished my business trans- actions with him had been less. I almost dread going down to the ofiSce, I feel so confident that some misfortune is about to happen. If there is anything wrong with him it will be a double calamity indeed." " Oh Clara," cried Mrs. McCameron, who al- ways put her own construction upon her hus- band's remarks, "you hear papal We are going to be reduced, — I am sure we are. Oh, LIFE AND ADVENTURES irhftt will becom* of ui? Ob, Gordon, whj didn't jou tail me before that we were poor? I'n lura I might have done without that green ■illi, and thoHe oxpenniye bracelet*, and I am ■arc, Olara dear, you would hare done without lome of your winter dresgca, and then all that lace and Jewelry for poor dear Tilda, — Oh,rtlara, we hare ruined papa I It ii all mj fault and now it ii too late— pa sayi we are going to bo reduced. Oh, Olara dear, what erer will be- «omM of UI I" " No, ma dear ; pa did not mean that. I'm •are yon didn't, did you, pa7"iaid Olara, look- ing imploringly into hii face. "If anything Is wrong, it will not be a natter of pounds, Martha, but of thousands," «aid Mr. McOamerou. It was, however, with the greatest difficulty that Mrs. McOaraeron was made to believe any other thun that the sheriffs were expected every moment, and that they were all irretrievably plunged into the very depths of poverty. The next day Mr. McOameron made his way to his office with «n unsettled and troubled mind. There were two g'ntlemon awaitiii^r his arrival intheouter office, his clerk (an int«re st- ing young mar irith an interesting lithp) in- formed him; RLJ they were instantly admitted. " Oh, good moi-niug, Mr. Growley ; Mr. Bol- ton, good morning," said Mr. McOameron, cast- ing an anxious glance from one to the other. Messrs. Qrowley and Bolton nodded, and seated themsel res with modest composure. " From Mr.Blackbourn," said Bolton, handing a letter over the table to Mr. McOameron, who took it and broke the seal with a trembling hand. It ran as follows :— Sir, — I have frequently told you that I am a strange being. They were no idle words. I regret that you have now to realize the full force of their merning. You will heap curses and reproaches on me, in return for the injuiles I have done you ; but, sir, that is casting water into a sieve. You will say that / have ruined both you and your child ; / say It is fate, — I am the tool. But the end is the same, and you will find but little merit in the distinction, while vo me it is a matter of indifference. I have done what I have done, the consequences are before me, and I receive them as they come ; — they are the one side of my destiny. But enough of preface. I have to inform you that our business trans- actions together, as far as I am concerned, are, for the most part, based on frauds, and that in most initancee I nand amenable to the law, and liable to prosecution at any moment. You are, as a natural consequence. Implicated, and perhaps to a greater extent than you can pos- sibly be aware of; and there is therefore bat one opening through which yoa can hope to preserve either yonr honor or your liberty : act promptly as I shall dictate, and leave the rest entirely in my hands. I shall be in London in five days from thli date ; and by that time it will be needfUl, in orde- to stave off the most immediate emergen- cies, that you should place at my command a sum of not less than JC10,000. Yoa can do it, I believe,— there is no alternative. I cannot doubt your good faith, — I hold your guaranty. —She is well. Yours, ko, O. Blaokbocbk. P.S. As it might be imprudent for us to meet under existing circumstances, I shall in f\iture communicate with you through the bearer, Mr. Bolton. Don't utk nt. Mr. McOameron evinced no signs of emotion as he read this extraordinary document, and, having finished it, he refolded it, placed it carcf\illy in his poeket-book, and, turning to his visitors with an air of extreme composure, he said, " Well, what more ?" " Can I take your answer ?" asked Bolton. " I have none." " You'll excuse me, Mr. McOameron," said Mr. Growley, " but are the contents of that letter a secret ?" " I presume so." " Oh, then I suppose he don't say anything about this Oalifornian job 7" "Nothing." " Well," pursued Mr. Growley, " I don't know how far you're concerned in that, Mr. McOameron ; but all I can say is, that I've been regularly led into it, and I don't care who knows it." " If you have completed your business with me, I will thank you to leave me, gentlemen,— I am busy," said Mr. McOameron, for it was with difRculty he could restrain the emotions that were silently accumulatin<7 within him. Both gentlemen instantly roso and moved towards the door. Bolton lingered behind. " Mr. McOameron," he said, " I know you have been deeply injured. I would willingly help you ; but I don't mind telling you, sir, that I am like a child in his Hands. He seems lo to the law, notnent. You npticated, and you can poi- tharefore but I can hope to ur liberty : act loare the reit Inyi from thit be needful, in diate emergen- \j command a tfou can do it, [to, I cannot rour guaranty. Blaokbocbn. t for as to meet shall in Aiture the bearer, Mr. gns of emotion ocument, and, 1 it, placed it 1, turning to his composure, he isked Bolton. jeron," said Mr. of that letter a t say anything ley, " I don't d in that, Mr. I, that I've been on't care who business with i, gentlemen,— OD, for it was a the emotions : within him. and mored )red behind. " I know you ould willingly lUing you, sir, ids. He seems OF SIMON SEEK. 87 to hold a sort of ipell orer me— I mutt obey him. Hoyond that there is but one object that I livH for : I hare received an irreparublu Injury from him." There appeared to boa touch of feeling in him as he said this, and, as he tinished, hu turned hastily and followed his rompimion, nn itio<^\\ he were anxious to avoid any further i omniuni* cation on the subject. MoCamerou closed the door behind tlieni with a steady hand, and, turning calmly round, ho stood erect and mationiess in the centre of the room, with his arms folded or. his chest, and his eyes flxod upon the dead wall that lowered down upon the office, like a black and angry cloud, from tho opposite building. His broad chest heaved heavily up and down, and a heavy gloom overshadowed his countenance, as he struggled with the violent emotions that were raging within him. It was some considerable time before he moved from this position, and, when ho did so, he stretched out his hand calm- ly and firmly before him, and a strange expres- sion shot across his countenance, and his lips moved as though he were speaking, but no ar- ticulate sound was heard. Ho then sat down and carefully examined and sorted his papers ; and as he turned them over one after another, ho shook tiis head, and the cloud seemed to gatlicr on his countenance, but still no sound escaped him. This done, he rose from his scat, buttoned up his coat carefully to his chin, gave some instructions to his clerk with respect to Mr. Plumley, adding that he (McCameron) should probably not return for several days, and quitted the office. Ho bent his steps directly towards Curzon Street, and, contrary to his usual custom, con- tinued to walk the whole of the distance. It would have been impossible from his appearance to have detected anything of the powerful emotions at work in his mind. His step was if anything more firm and unshaken than usual, his body less bent, and his countenance was calm and composed : but it is not always that the form or tho countenance is an indez^to the soul. On entering the house, his manner became in- stantly changed, and he passed on hurriedly to his own room. Ho closed and locked the door, drew down the blind, and fell heavily into a chair. And there, whore the rude eye of his fol- lows could not follow him, where there was but one ear that heard, and heard in pity, — there, in the presence of Him alone, to whom the griefs of a father and a husband might be bared,— there, in the sacred lilonce of hii own sanctuary, he poured out the great sorrow that troubled his soul, and let fall the tears that flowed, like drops of anguish from his heart, while in half-choked words and groans, the man, tho father, and the husband cried through \iU grief, "O my honor, my child, and my darling home I" It was long before the first burst of grief en- gendered by the extraordinary intelligence of the morning— and in which he at once saw he was irreparably involved, and his honor, bis happines.s, .ind the welfare of his child irretriev- ably blasted — had subsided ; but it passed away in course of time, and loft him once more in pos- session of himself. Tlio same firmaud collected demeanor that had marked his receipt of '.he intelligenco returned to him, and iiTectuaily blotted from his countenanfo that index of sorrow, througli which tho rudo eye of tho world might read he sacrod emotions of his weeping soul. He kose to his feet, and, again stretching forth his hund and looking upward, his lips again moved iu silence, and tho same strange expression shot across his features for a moment, and for that moment ho was another being. He moved about with perhaps more than his wonted composure as he collected a few articles together and arranged them in their order in a carpbt-bag. He opened a chest and took there- from a small leathern case containing a pistol and the otlicr necessaries for rendering it a v^eapon of death, which ho carefully examined and placed in the breast-pocket of his coat ; and while his hand lestea on it there, the same strange expression again shot across his features and his lips moved in silence, — but it was only for a moment, and the same quiet, ominous composure returned, and threw its im- penetrable mantle over the tr jubles and secrets of his heart. These arrangements completed, he descended to his wife's boudoir, where he found her alone with Olara. There was a profound calm in his manner that was no part of his ordinary bearing, — there was no smile upon his features, and it was easy for the eye of affection and love to read, from that clouded countenance and that terrible composure, that his mind was troubled. As he seated himself, his daughter came anxiously towarda him, and, folding her hands over his shoulder and resting her chin upon them, look- ed up in his face with her bright eyes already glistening with tears. He placed his arm 38 LIFE AND ADVENTURES around her and pressed her fondlj to his heart. " Martha," he said, and the very sound of his voice seemed to fill the room with a dead, om- inous calm, " some of my worst apprehensions are realized. Let me beg of you in God's name to bear whatever may transpire with fortitude and resignation. Martha, we have had mony, mony blessings to be thankful for : now comes our day of trial; let us bear it, my dear, with fortitude. I cannot tell ye to what extent we may have to suffer ; but I am afraid, my dear, it is the worst. For the present, I am about to leave you for two or three days. I am going to Paris. Our daughter is unhappy, — I may tell you that : I am going to bring her home." Both his wife and daughter looked at him, through their tears, in silence ; and he paused himself, as if unable to proceed. At length, after several attempts to speak, he rose from his chair and continued in a trembling voice, " Remember, my dears, what I have said ; and remember there is an unseen hand above all ; and may my blessing be with you. And, Martha," he added as he embraced his wife, and his trembling voice became almost inaudible, " whatever may happen, remember I am a Scotchman. Our honor, Martha, our children, and then our own safety." They were so overpowered with grief that neither could find words for utterance ; but they wept bitterly, and Clara clung imploringly to his arm and seemed to intreat him not to leave them. "Tour sister, Clara, your sister," he said kissing her and gently placing her in a chair ; but she sunk down on her knees beside her weeping mother, and they both wept together, as he again embraced them. With a hand resting on the instrument of death that nestled in his breast, and the other stretched forward, — his lips moving in silence, his eyes turned upward, and a dark cloud upon his countenance, — he moved away ; and a still, calm voice seemed to whisper in their ears, " My honor and my child 1" CHAPTER IX. ALL SORTS OF EMOTIONS. As Bolton and Mr. Growley left McCameron's office and were moving quickly down the ad- joining street, they espied two individuals coming towards them, one of whom, although at a considerable distance, had already fixed his eye upon Mr. Growley's imperfect member, and appeared to recognise him therefrom. " Who is this ?" said Bolton, " I think I've seen him before." "Oh, why that's that Californian fellow," returned Mr. Growley. " Let us cross." But it was too late. The Californian fellow had quickened his pace, and was close upon them. " Hi 1" cried the Californian fellow. " Just one word my friend. Don't sneak off in that way, because I'm not much in comparison with the legion yoi will soon have down about you, — in fact, a mere bagatelle, I may say, as I trust you'll find." " Well, what have you got to say ?" enquired Mr. Growley, replacing his iron member on the pavement and composing himself quietly against a lamp-post, when he saw there was no chance of retreat. " Look here, Plumley," said the Californian fellow, — who of course wasMr.Albosh,— direct- ing his companion's attention to the gentlemen before him ; " these are some of the vampires of society, that get fat upon the credulity of honest men. Take a good look at them. Plum- ley," said Mr. Albosh, " and, take my word for it, you will look a long time before you will see through them. Oh, I knew you," continued Mr. Alboslfbeginning to show a disposition to pugi- lism. " I should know you at any distance by that thing-a-my-jig in the shape of a foot. Well, now perhaps you can tell me something about my property. You are one of the direc- tors, I believe 7 and by George t as my friend says, you look fit to direct anything. Babble- ton Rowdy, Esq., or something of that sort, is it? Well, come where's my property 7" Mr. Growley produced a small tooth-pick from OF SIMON SEEK. 39 ttd, Martha," ife, and his inaudible, )er I am a lur children, h grief that ice ; but they ploringly to not to leave :r in a chair ; IS beside her ■ept together, nstrument of ind the other ng in silence, ■k cloud upon f ; and a still, leirears, "My juietly against ras no chance hiB pocket and commenced cooly mining among the cavities of the pearly collection that shot up in all kinds of extraordinary formations in his rock of a head, — probably with the view of con- veying to Mr. Albosh, in an emblematical man- ner, an idea of the kind of speculation in which his property had been invested and sunk. " Now, I tell you what, Mr. AUgammon," said Mr. Growley — " What do you mean by AUgammon ?" en- quired Mr. Albosh buttoning up his coat and doubling up his slender little fingers. " Why, that's your name, aint it ?" returned the other. Mr. Albosh indignantly explained that they would find no gammon about him, although his natural patronymic happened to be Xlboth. " Well, Kibosh then," continued Mr. Grow- ley, " it is much about the same thing. Well, all I've got to say, Mr. Albosh, is this, that you are altogether mistaken about me. If any one man is a loser by the failure of that speculation, that man's myself ; as my friend here can testi- fy,— eh, Bolton 7" " Certainly," said Bolton, emphasising the word, and throwing an extra force into it with his head, as though he were astonished that there should be found any one to doubt it. " And," continued Mr. Growley, drawing him- self up against the lamp-post and gradually di- lating with virtuous pride, " if any man has acted an honourable and upright part in that business, I am free to say that that man is my- self,— eh, Bolton?" " Who can doubt it ?" said Bolton, propound- ing a general proposition. " Why, what do you take me for ?" enquired Mr. Albosh, in a tone that plainly showed that, although he had condescended to put the question, he held their judgment in supreme contempt. " Ask my brother if I am a thief," he continued, winking on Mr. Plumley as though he would have said ' that settles them.' " Now, I just want to ask you a question," pursued Mr. Growley, totally unaflfected by this original sally from his opponent. "You've been talking a good deal at different times about your property, and your this, and your that, and the tther ; so I just want to ask you how you came possessed of your property in this said Company, — that's the question ?" " Never you mind that," returned Mr. Albosh, a little confused. " Oh, but I do mind," rejoined the other. " About how much, — that's the question ?" " That's nothing to do with you," stammered Mr. Albosh, more ".onfused than ever. " If — if— I got the shares for a mere bagatelle, that's my look out." " Well, as you don't seem to be exactly clear on the point," said Mr. Growley, in his turn throwing a triumphant wink to his friend Bolton, " why, I think I can tell you precisely what you did give for them. Nothing in cash down, and the balance in promises,— that's your investment in the spec', I believe. A hundred shares for your name and influence, wasn't it? And perhaps you can tell me," continued Mr. Growley, who saw that he had completely ex- tinguished the fire of his spirited little oppo- nent, " about how much the half of your in- fluence has been worth to us. Not much above the full length shadow of nothing, Mr. Albosh — eh ? Well," added Mr. Growley, with an ap- pearance of genuine magnanimity, " I hope I am one of the last men to dispute a man's law- ful rights, however he may have become pos- sessed of them ; but as things have turned out, what I say is, let us act charitably one towards another. So if you are in the mind for a glass of ale, Mr. Albosh, and yo r friend will join us, why, come along, and tliore's an end of the matter." Mr. Albosh was evidently three fourths horror- stricken at the thought. " And do you suppose I would V he enquired, dexterously throwing an unconditional refusal into the enquiry, by the mere force of emphasis. " Oh, /suppose nothing," replied Mr. Growley ; "but I only say, if you will, you know, you are welcome. We are going in here," added Mr. Growley, making a move towards the ale- house at the corner, " so just say. Yes or No." " No," returned Mr. Albosh emphatically, "Well, then, you mean to say you wont?" urged Mr. Growley, moving off. " Of course I do," said Mr. Albosh, following him. " I am not the man to entertain malice, but, by George ! as my friend says, to be asked to drink with one's open antagonists is some- thing beyond a mere bagatelle," added Mr. Albosh, following the antagonists whither they went. And in another minute he was'pledging the health of the antagonists with all sincerity in a glass of Alsop's pale. Two glasses of that consoling, feud-healing, love-inspiring bever- age, and Mr. Albosh shook his antagonists warmly by the hand, and assured them there was too much genuine chivalry in his compo- sition to allow him to enter into any serious squabble about what he might term a mere bagatelle, — he was above it ; in proof of which 40 LIFE AND ADVENTURES n he condescended to take another glass, and therein drank to their eternal prosperity, and fervently sent up his desires that a copious show- er, — in fact, that a complete thunder-storm, of sublunary bliss might straightway be poured down upon their meritorious heads. Such being his magnanimous conduct, Mr. Orowley, with strong expressions of feeling, and much emotion, assured him that from that moment his whole soul should be thrown into one great and un- wearied struggle to serve him through thick and thin, and that he might count upon him to his dying day; whereupon he shook him heart- ily by the hand, wished him every blessing, and, turning round, departed on his way with his thumb on his nose, his forefingers moving playfully to and fro, and a perpetual wink in his left eye, for the private enlightenment of his friend. " Green," said Mr. Growley. "Verdant," added his friend. " Taken in," said Mr. Growley. '' And done for," added his friend ; where- upon they hailed a cab and gave the word, to Faddingtou. They dismissed the cab at the corner of the Edgeware Road, in the New Road, and walked on to Paddington Green. At that time, on the right-hand side of the Green there was a large brick-built house, standing some distance off the road, and almost entirely surrounded with trees and a brick wall. Into this sylvan abode they admitted themselves without any assistance from the inmates. On entering the hall, which was large and hand- somely furnished, and spoke well for the general resources of the establishment, Bolton, with little ceremony and less melody, shouted out, " William !" " All serene !" replied that respectable in- dividual, apparently from some far-off subter- ranean region ; and a pair of slip-shods were immediately heard beating time up an in- visible flight of stairs, to the shrilly whistled tune of " My master's gun." " Oh, here you are," said William, suddenly emerging from behind an angle at the further end of the hall. " What news ?" " The governor's home to-morrow," replied Bolton. " He has changed his mind, or else circumstances have changed it for him. But however, he is home to-morrow." "Well, its no use being surprised," said William : " he'll come home just when he likes, there aint much doubt about that. For my part, I shouldn't be a ha'porth astonished to see him come tumbling through the roof at the present moment, not a ha'porth. Wont you cone down ? there is no fires up here now, ex- cept there," pointing to a room on the right, " and Miss Alice is in there. I dare say we've disturbed her ; but there, she's a hangel I there aint much doubt about that I" , The gentlemen accordingl} condescended to follow him to his own private apartment below stairs . " Now, then, what will you take 7" said Wil- liam, moving to a little liquor-sanctum of his own. " Oh, anything," said Mr. Growley. " Ay, well, I'm sorry to say that's about the only thing we're out of," replied William, put- ting it to his friend Bolton in a silent wink, whether that were sharp or not. " But I sup- pose a little sherry wont be sneezed at? or if it is, it '11 be simply because it goes the wrong way down, — eh ? What do you say, gentlemen ?" The gentlemen said yes, — sherry, most de- cidedly. " So he's coming home to-morrow, — eh ?" said William as soon as he had drank to his friends and to the bottom of a tumbler of sherry. " So he says," replied Bolton. " Ah, well," continued William, " he's been playing up a pretty rig for the last few days, and no mistake. I never saw any one do things as he does. Who'd ever have thought that he'd have had a place like this, ready furnished, and laying in ambush, so to speak, in case of an emergency. And then see how be sold up the old place, as if he had done it by down-right magic, — all gone whiff 1 in one day, just like that ! no more to do," and he snapped his fingers as an illustration of the manner in which it had all gone. " Ah, he's a close card," said Mr. Growley, abstractedly, addressing the sherry bottle. " You're right there," continued William. " I suppose every one thinks he s off to the Conti- nent for good, and if they want him that's where they'll go to look for him ; while he'll be snug and safe in Paddington Green, behind the trees, so to speak. I don't suppose there's a soul knows he's got this place besides our- selves. I'm sure I didn't know anything about it until I was lodged safe in it ; and I suppose you didn't 7" "Not a word," returned iJolton. "How's little Alice 7" " Oh, she's charming. It's very strange how he left her behind. I never knew him to do it before ; but I suppose he couldn't very well ) roof at the I. Wont you here now, ex- on the right, are say we've hangel 1 there idescended to irtment below ce ?" said Wil- anctum of his wley. lat's about the William, put- a silent wink, , " But I sup- zed at ? or if it oes the wrong jr, gentlemen ?" erry, most de- ow, — eh ?" said k to his friends of sherry. im, " he's been last few days, y one do things lought that he'd J furnished, and , in case of an • be sold up the by down-right day, just like ,pped his fingers in which it had 1 Mr. Growley, erry bottle. ed William. "I fif to the Conti- 'ant him that's im ; while he'll 1 Green, behind suppose there's ce besides our- any thing about ; and I suppose jlton. " How's ery strange how ew him to do it Idn't very well OF SIMON SEEK. 4¥ take her along with the other. Poor lady, I'm sorry for her. What a life she'll have with him 1 That's an affair I can't understand. There can't be any affection in it, can there, think you ?" " Not on his part, I should say," replied Bolton, " and 1 expect he's got the consent on the other side by some deep piece of treachery or other, that only he would be equal to. I fancy, you know, be has got the poor old man into his toils, and he has worked upon the daughter's feelings in that way." "Well, he is certainly the most extraordi- nary scoundrel that ever I came across," said William, taking another tumbler of wine and evidently enjoying, it, notwithstanding the de- pravity of his master, who had doubtless paid for it. " I never saw any one have anything to do with him yet, but Avhat he brought them to downright ruin. And what's the most as- tounding thing, he alway sescapes scot-free, — always. I suppose you'll stay and take a bit of dinner, gentlemen?" The gentlemen thought they would ; and after dinner it was thought that, by way of a change, there might be many things worse than a few glasses of claret ; and this idea proved so eminently correct, that it was not until the shades of eve were falling fast, and a startling alarm from the house-bfU interrupted them, that they thought of shifting their positions ; which they then did, however, in some slight degree of confusion. " Oh, William, if here aint master !" cried one of the maid-servants rushing in with sundry startling gesticulations. " The divil 1" said William. " Yes, that he is, and she^s with him 1" added the other, with sundry other mysterious gesti- culations, which went to state that she was a very pretty, handsome young lady, and that she herself was very sorry foi ber, but then what could she do ? William hurriedly removed from the corners of his eyes the superfluous moisture that had been gradually accumulating there for the last hour or two, admonished his friends in a whis- per, and with the assistance of bis forefinger, to hold their noise, wbich, seeing that they were perfectly quiet, appeared somewhat uune•^es- sary, — arranged his cravat, called forward the soberest of countenances, together with a blessing on bis master for coming home at that particular hour, and proceeded up stairs the most respectable of servitors. There was something unusually firm and col- lected abo it Blackbourn's demeanor as he crossed the hall to the room already noticed as having been occupied by Alice, followed — for she hung timidly behind — by the unhappy jirl whom he had so ruthlessly wrenched from her happy home. Alice was not there, and he enquired for her. William couldn't say where she were. " Has Bolton been here to day, William 7" en- quired Blackbourn. " Have, sir," replied William. " Any letters ?" " Two, sir. Sh'U fetch them 7" "Yes." William had planted himself firmly in the centre of the room, that he might maintain as sober and respectful an appearance as possible under the circumstances; but the searching glance with which his master had favoured him during these brief enquiries, had so overthrown bis praiseworthy and respectful arrangements, that in attempting to retreat with his ordinary consistency, he rolled round on his heel, brought his head in violent collision with the door- jamb, and narrowly escaped performing the somewhat disrespectful feat of sprawling at full length across the threshold. " Why dont you sit down, child 7" said Black- bourn, addressing the unhappy Matilda who stood trembling before him. " What in heaven's name are you so timid about 7 the house is yours — you are the only mistress here, child : don't you approve of it 7" " Oh yes,oh yes, Blackbourn !" replied Matilda, suppressing the tears that had started to her eyes. " Everything is very beautiful, I am sure. But you must forgive me. Blackbourn : I cannot be happy until I hear from pa, and poor dear mamma. I am very unhappy about them. I feel so certain that something is wrong." William returned with the letters, and retired with infinitely more success. " Have you none from pa, Blackbourn 7" asked Matilda looking anxiously and sorrow- fully into his dark, ominous countenance. "None, child, none," returned Blackbourn, glancing at the addresses. " Oh, Blackbourn," said Matilda laying her hand imploringly on his arm, " there is some- thing wrong. Your look tells me there is something wrong. Pray let me go and see them. You will, will you not, Edward, let me go and see dear mamma 7" " Patience, patience, child," returned Black- bourn placing her in a chair. " I have told you, not yet. Your father's affairs are to a 42 LIFE AND ADVENTURES oertain extent in his own hands ; i o can re- cover both his honor and his position, or he can ruin liimaelfjust as easily. Your presence at the present moment will influence him to rush into the latter, while your abseuce will as surely bring about the former. You know your promise, Matilda: if you really wish for your father's release from his present erabarrassmonts, keep it. I have sworn to free him from his liabilities ; and if you will both be guided, 1 shall do so. I am a strange soul, Matilda. Do you not know me yet?" Something of his old wildness returned as he gave utterance to this last remark, and the half-terrified girl sat looking at him through her tears in mute astonishment. "I know nothing but what you tell me, Blackbourn," she said at length ; " but I begin to fear there is something very dre.idful concealed beneath it all, that I cannot yet understand. But you will save papa, wont you, Edward? I dont care for any thing if you will only save dear papa," she said, and there was a solemn, sacred earnestness in her words that touciied even the iron heart to which she appealed. His countenance became heavy and troubled as he bent his large dark eyes intent- ly upon the weeping girl, and marked the sonl- felt earnestness with which she prayed for the safety of him whose happiness he had so ruth- lessly and hopelessly destroyed. He gradually raised his eyes as if he wete following rorac distant object, until they became immoveably fixed ; and with his arms folded and his body erect he stocd glaring wildly before him, while the blank side of his face became pale and bloodless. "Matilda," Le said, suddenly throwing back bis head, and speaking between his teeth, " men commit crimes under the influence of drink ; but there is a stronger intoxication than that ! The soul may bo drunk. It is a strange thing, is a drunken soul !" The terrified girl started to her feet and laid her hand tremblingly on the bell-rope, for sho was scared by the wildness of his appearance, and pcbaps more so by the strange language which he used ; but before she could summon courage to ring the bell, he caught her sharply by the wrist, and looking at her with an in- tensity that seemed to pierce her very soul, he said, almost in a whisper, " Never riug bells, child, when you see me troubled. I 'iAve a horror of bells. I have a strange soul, Matilda, and bells never quiet it. But come," he added assuming a milder tone, " I will go and bring Alice to yon. If yoa love Heaven, child, you will love her. Sh» shall initiate you into the ways of the house, and I am sure you will be good company. You must manage to amuse yourself here for some few days yet. But remember what I have told you of her. — You love your father, Matil- da." He left her ; and she fell upon her knees, and, clasping her hands fervently together and lifting her beautiful but tearful eyes to Heaven, she prayed for that father whom she loved, and implored of Heaven to protect her and all the dear ties of her home from the strange influence of the intoxicated soul. It was on the sixth day after his arrival in London that Blackbourn, who had attempted repeatedly to communicate with McCameron but without success, returned home in a state of extreme agitation, and finding Bolton await- ing his arrival, instantly dispatched him with a letter to McCameron, with injunctions to di- liver it if he were any where to be found, and return with the answer without a moment's delay. Bolton went first to Ourzon street, and there he ascertained that the family had quitted the house unexpectedly, and had left no traces behind them of the part of the town to which they had removed. The house was deserted and empty. He then made his way as quickly as possible to the office in the city. He found this likewise shut up and deserted, and no one could supply him with any information whatever as to the where-abouts of the owner. Knowing no other place at which he was likely to find him, he turned to retrace his steps. He was passing quickly through street after strcet,when, chancing to turn his head, he saw a tall figure buttoned up closely to the chin, and with his hat slouched partly over his eyes, coming hurriedly after him. He paused for a moment, and then, as if a new idea had suddenly occurred to him, he walked on rapid- ly, until he turned the next corner, when he quickened his pac almost to a run ; but on looking again behind, after proceeding a short distance, he saw that he was still pursued ; and he quickened his pace still more and darted round corner nfter corner, but still the figure was behind him : until, on turnii:^ two or three corners almost immediately after each .other, he thought it had lost sight of him, and he slackened his pace ; but to his astonishment he almost instantly heard the same hurried foot- step close upon his heels, and in another moment a hand was laid upon his shoulder. up, OF SIMON SEEK. .8 you. If yoa ire her. Sh« of the house, od company, self here for ir what I hare father, Matil- er knees, and, ogether and OS to Heaven, ihe loved, and er and all the inge influence his arrival in ad attempted I McCameron ne in a state Bolton await- lied him with notions to di- }e found, and b a moment's on street, and ly had quitted left no traces iwn to which was deserted ay as quiclcly y. He found d, and no one tion whatever r. Knowing likely to find eps. He was rstreet,when, saw a tall lie chin, and y over his Ho paused new idea had ked on rapid- ner, when he run ; but on eding a short pursued ; and 3 and darted ill the figure r two or three r each .other, him, and he onishment he hurried foot- 1 in another I shoulder. " Why do you shun me, sir ?" asked the trem'-ling voice of McCameron. "Because I respect you, Mr. McOameron," re- plied Bolton. " I have been to your house and to your office both, with the view to see you and to deliver this letter, and I thought I might save you some pain by telling the sender you were not to be found. Here it is." " Thank ye, thank ye for your consideration," returned McOameron, placing the letter in his pocket. " I care nothing for his letters. I canna do what he wishes. He has miscalculat- ed my resources ; I have given a' my property up, but it will not meet a tenth part of the lia- bilities. But, sir, I canna help that. I care nothing for the property, — I can do without it. But my honor and my child, sir. My name is already branded in the papers : I dare say you know that, and you know that I have no share in the cause. But my daughter^ sir. I canna vindicate my honor while she is at his mercy. I canna, you know 1 canna, sir. My poor dear, dear girl. You can assist me, — you know where she is : it is a worthy cauje, sir. Will you tell me where she is?" He spoke with all the fervour of a father pleading for the child that was dear to him, and the voiee of Bolton trembled as he replied : " I am sorry, sir, but indeed I can't do that. I don't value my life much, certainly, but you scarcely know the man that Blackbourn is. I am not ashamed to acknowledge that I am afraid of him. No, I can't do that, sir. Your daughter is well, I can assure you of that." " No, sir, no," returned McCameron, " she is not well, sir. You dont know her, — she is not well." He shook his head and stood looking at the other in silence for some minutes. "Will you return an answer to the letter?" asked Bolton. "I have no answer," returned McCameron, still regarding him abstractedly. " I must have my daughter first, — my daughter, sir. Will you tell me where she is. She is very dear to me, sir." Bolton shook his head, and made a feiu. :;f moving oflf. " Stay, sir," cried .McCameron detaining him, " I have never injured you ; why will you not tell me where she is ?" " My good sir, I cannot, — I cannot tell you. If you have no Good day, sir." answer, I must leave you. He moved ofif, evidently much agitated, and anxious to get quit of an appeal which was gradually awakening his better feelings and drawing him, as he feared, into a danger that he dreaded, and trembled even to think of en- countering. McCameron followed, still urging his appeal ; he quickened his pace, but the other kept close behind him ; he hurried on quicker and quicker, darting round corner after corner, but the des- pairing father was at bis heels ; he hailed a cab and jumped hastily in, in hopes of driving off be- fore the other came up ; but his hand was on the door before he could give the word. " Sir, I shall follow you, go where you will. My daughter, sir, — my daughter," cried the un- happy man. " For God's sake, leave me I you cannot follow me, sir I" cried Bolton pushing him from the door and giving the word to drive on. He stood motionless and bewildered for several seconds. The cab was fast disappearing: ; he saw it in the act of turning from his view, and it seemed to bear away his only hope ! He looked wildly round as it turned from his sight ; |he hesitated for a moment, — it would soon be to late, — it was his daughter, his darling child that called him I and he dashed down the street, through the crowd, away, away, wildly and furiously. He gained the corner ; the cab was still in sight, and on, on he rushed, — his childwaa before him 1 They see him in pursuit, they quick- en their speed ; the lash, the lash, and away they fly, but still he pursues ; turning on turning, street after street. He is gaining upon them. Faster, faster they seem to fly through the street, but he follows them still ; on, on, my child, my child 1 Another long street, and yet another, and still they fly before him. His strength is failing him, his chest heaves, he pants heavily for breath, but still he staggers forward: he trem- bles, his eyes grow dim, his brain reels, he stumbles — he falls 1 Hush I tread lightly ; the delirium has sub- sided, and the sufferer sleeps. A loving wife and a fair daughter attend on the patient, and weep while they tend ; and while they glide noislessly to and fro, and lave his burning temples, and hang over his suff'ering form, never wearying with watching, they cease not their silent suppurations to their Father in Heaven, " Oh, spare dim, spare him I" 44 LIFE AND ADVENTURES CHAPTER VII. THE DEPARTURE. Will, time has rolled away, week after week, month after month. The chilling blast of winter has blown its last, and has all taken to its heels, and gone away to recruit its strength in the frozen caverns of the north. The balmy South is sending forth her messengers of spring, to gladden the woodlands with their music, and waken nature from her slumbers. The meadows and the hedgerows are laughing and merry and gay. The trees are glorying in their snow-white mantles, and shaking their perfumes in the air with very glee. Nature has her holiday ; she is attired in her best, her little ones are about her, and all is sruiling and cheer- ful and happy, — it is the merry month of May I It was one of the brightest and happiest and merriest days that ever shone down from the heavens to gladden the dry old earth, and dis- pel the melancholy from the hearts of the poor, drowsy, melancholy atoms of animated clay that mumble and rumble and grumble about on its uncomfortn^ le old crust. And whether it was the beauties of the day, or the beauties of their own prospects, — whether the result of ex- ternal or internal influences, certain it is that the whole family of the Plumleys without one individual exception, on that beautiful day at about ten in the forenoon. Were seen indivi- dually and collectively without respect of per- sons, to smile. Mr. Plumley smiled, Mrs. Plumley smiled, and oh what a smile it was too I her pretty little daughter smiled, Simon did the same, and Timothy followed his example ; and last, not least, the Victim. Yes, gradually but surely, like the progress of time, there was seen to creep over the features of the Victim, a pecu- liar expression ; it deepened, it extended, it burst, and was immediately hailed on all sides as the glorious and unsophisticated reality, — a smile. Mr. Plumley was arranged in tb' attire of a respectable plumber, not exact'y dressed oil for a holiday, while at the saiiC time he was decidedly not in anything like working gear, — somewhere about the happy medium. He had his hut on, and stood in the centre of the room, and also in the centre jf a small but heterogen- eous collection of boxes, bags, bedding, and sun- dries. Mrs. Plumley was attired to match, with the exception of a dreadful, harassing little bonnet, which certainly was a trifle too small for a plumber's wife ; but then she was a very pretty plumber's wife, — in fact, as charming a little creature, no doubt, as ever wore the veriest apology of a bonnet that was ever invented to display the beauties of be- witching little heads. Simon was glorying in an entire new suit, and was strutting: up and down the room with little Lizy, his wn " pret- ty little lovy," as he called her, on his arm, with all the consequence inspired by the conscious- ness of being a participant in an important event. Miss Plumley was the foreshadowing of modesty, decorum, and faded silk. Timothy was great in fustian, and seemed entirely car- ried off his legs by the forcible recurrence of hornpipes, Irish jigs, and terpischorean med- leys. A pot of porter was on the table, — no, on the top of a chest, — and a liberal supply of bread and cheese in its immediate vicinity, Mrs. Plumley having suggested the propriety of their taking a 'snack' before starting, wherever they were going ; although when it came, she was compelled to confess that she was in such a state that the very sight of it was almost too much for her. Whatever was their destination, they were going by the boat from London Bridge, and the cart to convey the luggage thither was momentarily expect- ed ; but Mrs. Plumley said that she was con- vinced in her own mind it wouldn't come. There was no accounting for one's feelings, but she had, some how or another, a presentiment all along that they should be left behind. Now, they would see if her words didn't come true. Whereupon Mr. Plumley gave her a kiss in the style of ten years ago, and said she was a doubting little puss, and that she had said all along they would never go at all, and yet here they were ; which Mrs. Plumley wouldn't hear a word of, and said. Oh, how could he !^ only to think ! and then she flew for protection f.om her naughty, naughty, to her lovely, iovely, lovely, and hugged and kissed and shook her pretty little bonnet over them, until they joint- ly declared that mother was right and father OF SIMON SEEK. 4» to match, I, harassing a trifle too en she was in fact, as ubt, as ever let that was uties of be- glorying in ting up and wn " pret- lis arm, with e conscions- n important hadowing of :. Timothy entirely car- icurrence of lorean med- j table, — no, ral supply of ,te vicinity, he propriety '0 starting, ugh when it ess that she sight of it hatever was by the boat to convey rily expect- le was cou- ldn't come, feelings, but »rcsentiment hind. Now, t come true, a kiss in the she was a lad said all md yet here Duldn't hear Id he !_ only tection f om ■ely, lovely, d shook her 1 they joint- and father was wrong, and that they would stand by mo- ther to the very death. " By George I" exclaimed Mr. Plumley sud- denly dropping a carpet-bag which he had in his hand, and seizing his sistor round the waist and dragging her nolem volens through a fa- vourite terpischorean feat of his boyhood ; by which he seemed to think that any further continuation of his thoughts was rendered per- fectly unnecessary. «' Well, but really," said Mrs. Plumley, " how delightfn' it would have been if Mr. Albosh was going with us 1" " Yes," said her huiband, " I think ho would have hiced to, but it seems he can't manage it. But how strange it is he's not been. He eaid he would be sure to come, and bid us good bye ; and now I'm afraid we shall be obliged to go and leave without seeing him. I should ha' liked poor Mr. McOameron to ba' seen us off too; but then, poor gentleman, he's too ill. It's through being out so much in all weathers, so they tell me, a looking after his daughter. Ah, that's a strange business I They say he's never been able to get the leastest intelligence of her at all, since they ' t that there place in Paddington, where he traced 'em to ; and then he's never properly recovered that there illness he had soon after it all happened, you see. Ah, my heart bleeds for that poor gentleman, Lizy, that's what it does. When I think, too, of what he has been and done for us, even when he hadn't got the means of his own, I'm — well, by George I I dont know what as — hark 1 that's the cart." This latter remark had reference to a pair of heavy footsteps that were heard tumbling up the stairs, and which, as Mr. Plirmley nc doubt intended to convey, if not the cart itself, had immediate reference thereto. " Traps waitin' ?" said a gruff voice following a large greasy head into the room. All haufis made a simultaneous rush upon the boxes, bags, and packages generally, and, away they went, tumbling down stairs one after another, over the landing, through the passage, into the cart, in what Timothy called a trifle less than a "brace of shakes." The last package was just arranged snugly in its place, and they were all on the point of moving off, when a sinister looking personage in stiff attire, who had been hanging about the door with a small pocket-book in his hand for several minutes past, accosted them, and inquired, "I say, you dont happen to know a Mr. Kwack about here, do you ?" "0 yes," replied Mr. Plumley. "He used to live hero ; but he's left for the last fortnight past, and I'm sure I dont know where ho ia now. Do you want him 7" " Well, I did," ret; ned the other. •' The fact is, I may tell you that bo's wanted, I'm a officer." " Dear me, what for, by George I" said Mr. Plumley. " Well," said the officer , and he shrugged his shoulders, throw his bead on one side, and winked with his eyebrows, adding, " You — you understand." "Well, I'm sure I can't tell you anything about him I always thought him an 'armless young man," said Mr. Plumley. " Oh, dear me, do come away, George dear 1" whispered Mrs. Plumley to her husband, "what can he been doing, — only to think 1" It is perhaps worthy of remark, as involving a natural phenomenon, that at the first enquiry of the laconic official, Timothy, who a moment before had been seen standing on the pavement, a substantial reality, had incontinently van ished into thin air. He was nowhere to be seen; and it was not until the whole of the Plumleys,together with the ci rt, had turned the street, and the officer \( as no longer within eye- shot, tha* he was seen gradually i^ ^esolve into tangibility, and to appear limb by limb from among the complication of boxes and bedding in the cart. " I say, Timothy, what's Mr. Kwack been a doing?" said Mr. Plumley as soon as that individual had once more assumed his original identity. " Well, I 'xpect it's about that there hubbub as was in the Park," replied T^m. "Oh, ay, I see, — the cheap-bread movement. Why I think you was there, wasn't you, Tim ?" "Well, I cert'ny were there, sir," replied Tim ; " but I didn't go for to take no part in the row, sir, — not a bit. There was reg'lar desp'rate fightin' too, sir." " Oh, how sorroy I am for poor Mr. Kwack!" said Mrs. Plumley. " I'm sure the poor young man didn't mean any harm. Oh, what a pity I" It was abou an hour after this, that Mr. Plumley, standing on the " landing" at the side of the Dock- Yard in the salubrious and quiet little town of Woolwich, where the dulcet pounding of ten thousand hammers combine to fill the soul perpetually with sweec emotions, and a thousand fires add their sanitary mea- sures — and bumping measures they are too — 46 LIFE AND ADVEN rURES IH to tb9 native purity of the atmosphere, and, strutching forth Ma hnnd to a veiael which was lying in the centre of the river, exclaimed, " There she is 1" Yes, there she was sure enough. With her tall masts towering up against the dLtant sky, and her infinity of ropos and cables stretching out here and there, and up and .down, and this way and t it way, and in all conceivable ways, like a huge cobweb hung out to ensnare the rooks and pigeons, — her golden figure-head waving gracefully up and down, as if she wore taking a long and earnest farewell of her native shores,— the water moving quietly and softly about and making the smallest possible mur- mur against her sides, as though it were chary of disturbing her silent thoughts : yes, there she was t her name was the Wanderer, and she was bound for Quebec. Qod speed thee, Wanderer! Thou hast a freight of precious souls, — of fathers and moth- ers, and sons and daughters. The dear ones of a thousand hearts are committted to thy cai-e. They are the sons of misfortune, of care, and of sorrow. Unhappy has been their lot in the land of their birth. Penury and want have driven them from the homes that they loved, from the fair ones that were dear to their hearts. They go CO seek a respite from their griefs and to buiiu them a home in a far-off land, where tears sball not always mingle with their toil, and where their little ones may be fed. Then bear them in safety, Wanderer, and God speed thee. "Hi, boatman I can you take us to the Wanderer ?" " All right, sir, — here you are. There in a jiffy. Sliall I hand in the ladies ? Come along, my little dear." (Mrs. Plumley — dear, what a rude man I) " Now then, mum." (Miss Plumley — What a monster I) " Down with your luggage, sir, — you aint much too soon. I see they 're getting her in trim," In a few minutes more — after a desperate struggle on the part of Mrs. Plumley with that horrid ladder which bade fair to have proved an insurmountable obstacle — they were all lodged safely on board ; and one and all looked round bewildered. They found themselves entirely surrounded, and smiled upon, and greeted, and quizzed in all directions by the motliest crowd of motley humanity that it was ever their good fortune, in the whole course of their lives, to form a part of. There were men, women, and children, of every age, caste, pro- fession, business, character, appearance, dress. feeling, thought, and temperament. Men from the country, men from the town, men from th« water, and men from nobody knew where. Carpenters, blacksmiths, masons, tailors, cord- wainers, &rmers, laborers, and men of every trade, nailing, and profession, together with « great number who had no such valuable .ippend- age as eitlier trade, calling or profession belong- ing to them. There were fustians, corduroys, broadcloths, ginghams, blighted silks, cottons, and rags of no particular texture or material, all jostling together, and all received with the same smile of recognition as fellow-wanderers. There, was a group of red-faced rustics, laugh- ing, and talking, and enjoying the voyage in prospective ; and there another, with an old man and woman in their midst, were laughing, and crying, and hoping, and doubting, and run- ning through the whole catalogue of emotions ; and behind them, away in a corner by them- selves, were a mother and so- — they were taking a long farewell of each other, and they were crying in real earnest. But the great majority were rushing to and fro, in the midst of the labyrinth of boxes and bundles, and barrels, and chains, and cables, and masts, and planks, and canvas ; some tugging away at ropes, rolling over baggage, handing in the fresh boat- loads of human beings that came pouring in one after another, thicker and faster as the time drew near, until the good old Wanderer began almost to groan beneath the heavy load of living, moving, restless, turbulent freight that she was called upon to sustain. The Plumleys descended into the cabin (aa far as name went there was no steerage,— it was all second cabin and saloon, by which arrangement an amount of importance was at once conveyed into the very heart of the as- sembled crowd at a trifling expense), and it seemed that all the motley collection of the decks, lugpage and all, had descended withthem. There was the same crowd of precisely the same people, in precisely the same state of bustle and commotion. Boxe? and bedding, and tinware, and noise were prominent every- where. Ever one was laughing, anil crying, and shaking hands, and hoping, and fearing, and doubting, and altogether in the sublimest con- fusion that could well bo imagined. And above it all there was a continual din of hammering, and nailing, and screwing, and fit- ting in the berths, that seemed to drown everything else, and yet e erything else was heard just the same, and — hark I Mr. Plumley stopped, laid his hand on his Hen from en from th« lew where, lilora, cord- en of every ither with m .ble .ippend> lion belong- corduroys, Iks, cottons, or material, red with tha '-wanderers, sties, laugh- j voyage in vith an old ire laughing, ,ng, and run- of emotions ; er by them- ' were taking id they were reat majority midst of the and barrels, , and planks, ly at ropes, he fresh boat- t pouring in ster as the lid Wanderer heavy load ilent freight :n. he cabin (as steerage, — it n, by which tance was at ,rt of the as- nse), and it ction of the ed withthem. jrecisely the me state of and bedding, linent every- , and crying, d fearing, and iblimest con- ined. And nual din of ving, and fit- d to drown ing else was hand on hia OF SIMON SEEK. it wife's arm, and, with the look of one that was completely astonished (a look which the reader will please to arrange according to his own ideas on the subject), directed her attentior. to a dicussion between two individuals, tha was going on, in^conjunction with a great deal of hammering and chiseling, in an adjoining berth. " I tell you," said one, " that a discovery entirely superseding steam in every shape and form must be a desideratum ; and when we consider that it is to bo carried out for a few pounds, — a mere bagatelle, I may say, — why of course, there it its." " Well," replied the other, " it appears to me the illucination involves a complex concate- nation of heterogeneous ftmdamentalities." " Why, Mr. Albosh I" cried Plumley thrust- ing his head into the berth. •' Why, bless my bcul," cried Mr. Albosh grasping his hand, " here you are then." " And Mr. Kwack I" added Plumley extend- ing his hand to the pliilosophe'*. " My dear, sir," cried Mr. Kwack, " I'm de- lighted to see you ! yes, here we are, you sec, expatriated at last. I've fully made up my mind that the poor old country's done for. No power of intellect can restore a system of inscrutable rottenness, and incomprehensible imbecility, to anything like a systematic state of convalescent salubrity. So I have just torn myself from her, ami all I can say is. Heaven preserve her! I attempted to make a bold sally for the constitutional emancipa- tion of her oppressed denizens, but, alas ! mo- narchical sway and oligarchical supremacy pre- vailed, and pursued the lover of his country, the champion of tlie people's freedom, the avow- ed patrolt, with the minions of the lew, that, like blood-hounds on the scent, were thirsting for his very blood. Plumley I I've left her I I loved her, Plumley, but I've left her 1 Heaven preserve her!" Mr. Kwack dashed a tear from his eye, and, springing out of his berth, went forward and greeted the whole of the Plumleys in the most aifectionate manner. Mr. Albosh did the same. "Why, really," said Mr. Albosh, "Ihad'nt the least idea that you were on board. I thought to have prepared a capital surprise for you, — a little ruse of mine ; but there, this is the great pleasure of pleasures, and all the rest is a mere bagatelle. Hark ! that's the tug alongside, and we shall soon be moving. Let us go on deck." On reaching the deck they fonnd the tuf that was to .jw them down the river, steaming and smoking away close alongside lure enough, and in the distance off the shore, was a boat, coming rapidly towards them, which seemed to engross an unusual amount of attention from tht . ,vd on the decks, while a whisper was running from mouth to mouth, " The saloon passengers." As it approached, Mr. Al- bosh took Plumley by the arm in a somewhat mysterious manner and led him aside. " Plumley, — a word. I have just hit upon a discovery. Something out of the common. What do you say to an invention that would throw the entire system of steam-engines and that sort of thing overboard, — eh ? Desideratum I believe, eh ? It Is to be done, sir. But not a word, — not a word. Mind you, it is a thing I shouldn't mention to every one." " Ay," said Plumley turning away his head that his friend might not get the benefit of a smile that was irresistibly playing about his features, "I think you make a good many discoveries, Mr. Albosh, don't you?" " Lord bless you !" replied the other, " dis- covery is one of my happiest gifts." Mr. Plumley made no reply, but he had his own notions about the happiness of the gift. " Good Heavens I look here, Plumley," cried Mr. Albosh seizing his friend violently by the arm and dragging him in view of the boat, which had just come along side. Mr. Plumley changed color and bit his lips, and looked vacantly at his friend. There were sir people in the boat besides the boatman, — a little girl, a lady, and four males. As they moved directly into the saloon without taking the slightest notice of any of the objects by which they were surrounded as they passed along, Plumley and his friend stood watching them in mute astonishment, at a convenient distance, until they had all disappeared. " I am sorrj for this," said Mr. Plumley. " Yes, so am I," returned Mr. Albosh. " It will throw a damper on the whole voyage. I am afraid it is a bad omen, Plumley. But don't say a word, — keep it quiet ; it will only make them all uneasy." " I am very, very sorry," said Mr. Plumley leaning against the bulwarks in a thoughtful mood. The dull, heavy clank, clank of the anchor, and the " shanty " chorus that had been ringing through the air for the last fifteen minutes, had by this time ceased ; the pilot was voci- ferating his orders, tlie tug was in her place. 48 LIFE AND ADVENTURES and thoy begftn to glide gradually down the river. A cloud of hats and handkerchiefs uprose from the decks, in answer to a similar demonstration from the small fleet of boats that lingered on the rirer ; and amidst a com- plicated burst of cheers and hurrahs, and ■miles and tears, and distress and foar, and hope, nnd all sorts of emotions from all points of the assembled crowds, thoy glided away,— away from their homes, and their loves, and their dear ones, — away, for a far-off land, whence thoy might never return. 'Twas then, England, that they felt they had lost thee 1 Tliey are indeed the unhappy among thy sons ; and many are the sorrows and tiie woes that have chased them from thy shores. Thy storehouses, that team with plenty, hare been barred against them. They have petitioned in thy midst for bread, and hare petitioned in vain. Thy great ones have iVown- ed on them, and the voice of their sorrow has been drowned in the tumult of thy revelries. Their cries and lamentations l^vo been mocked with the jingle of thy countless gold, and they have been made to ga/.e on thy abundance with famished eyes and broken hearts. But still thoy turn from thy shores with regret. They are thy sons, and there is much in thee to love ; and while thoy bid a long and last fare- well to thy receding shores, their eyes gush out with tears, an 1 they exclaim in their hearts, " England, with all thy faults I love thee still 1" CHAPTER VIII. ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. -A The Wanderer made a good start after the tug left her, with stud-sails set and all hands as merry and happy and hupeful as mig it have been desired. But this was one of those condi- tions which are proverbially recognized as being too good to last. As the evening came on, the breeze that had hitherto kept the sails full, began gradually to decrease ; heavy mists were seen gathering on the horizon, the wind came in fitful gusts from the opposite quarter, the sails begun to flap, and the heavy voice of the mate was heard every now and then, " Keep her full, keep her full." A remarkable change in the motion of the vessel became every moment more perceptible, and men, women, and child- dren, who a few minutes before were capering about, and singing and dancing in high glee, were seen quietly quitting the deck one after another with pale faces and downcast eyes. A tliick driazly rain began to fall, the wind veered round, and round, and round, until the order w s heard '"Bout ship;" and then the sailors began to rush to and fro, and the " Ya ho, heave ho, ya ho !" went ringing through the air, and everything was at once converted in- to confusion and noise and tumult. As the vessel began to roll and to pitch, so did the groans and moans begin to proceed from every conceivable corner of the cabin. Some were already moaning away in their berths, others were stretched at full length upon the seats and boxes and bundles about the floors, while the rest were rocking themselves to and fro, throw- ing up their eyes heavenward, and endeavouring to look as much as possible as if their last mo- ments were at hand. Wives were appealing for assistance to their husbands,children to mothers, sisters to brothers, and perliaps upon the whole it was one of the sublimest scenes of misery and confusion and pantomimicwretchedness that could well be imagined. Almost the only ex- ception to the general rule wos our tight little acquaintance Timothy. Whether it happened that the mutual campact existing between him- self and Nature extended to the exclusion of sea-sickness, or whether it was merely an ac- cidental peculiarity appertaining to his pe- ( 'iliar construction, certain it is, as he wittily oDserved, that ail her tossing didn't matter a toss-up to him, and he'd undertake to bet her anything at even odds that she didn't come any of her nolus bolus doctoring with him. He was pretty well, he thanked her, anddidnit want any salt-water cures, — kismetics espice'ly. Ir fact, he went so far as to assure Miss Plumlej, by way of consoling her, as he hand.^d her a cup of tea with a trifle of brandy in it (of which she instantly capsized one half over the faded They h»Te and bare avo fVown- orrow hai revelries, on mocked I, and they abundance nrta. But ith regret, h in thee to d last fare- eyos gush heir hearts, lovo theo OF SIMON SEEK. 4t erths, others he seats and s, while the d fro, throw- ndeavouring leir last mo- ippcaling for n to mothers, on the whole IS of misery :hednessthat the only ex- ir tight little it happened )etween him- exclusion of crely an ac- to his pe- ls he wittily n't matter a e to bet her didn't come with him. He ddidnit want spice'ly. Ir liss Plumlej, land-id her a in it (of which er the faded ■Ilk on the one side, and the other, in attempt- ing to recover her balance, into the lap of a bilious old gentleman on tho uilipr, and straight- way reprimanded tho unfortunate Timotiiy for making her such a victim), that of the two he rather preferred the rocking, and he hadn't tho least doubt that after she had had about a fort- night of it, she'd say so to ; so ho advised her to cheer up. This description of weather continued almost without any intermission for four days ; whou the pilot left them at Dover. A heavy sea was running at the time, and it was with the great- est difficulty ho was transferred to the boat, lie carried a largo parcel of letters with him from the emigrants to their friends, and among them was one from Mr. Plumlcy addressed to Mr. McCameron, " with dispatch." Still they continued beating against head winds, " tack and 'bout, tack and 'bout," until on the twelfth day they cleared the Land's End, and found themselves fairly in the open Atlantic. The wind veering round more to tlio eastward, they now began to make better head- way, and, as the fair wind came accompanied by fair weather, pale faces and weak bodies began to creep up one after another fron; below, thick- er and thicker, more and more, until in a very short time the decks were once more crowded with human beings ; and the rolling, and toss- ing, and distress, and wretchedness were soon entirely forgotten, and everything and every body were converted into cheerfulness, and a general state of comparati^~ happiness ob- tained. During all this time, but little had been seen of the occupants of the saloon. Now and then the little girl was seen seated outsidi the door in a small basket-chair, reading, ani looking very pale and ill ; and at night a ^all figure, closely enveloped in cloaks and wrappers, was generally to be seen walking hurriedly to and fro on the poop-deck. Sometimes he was ac- companied by two others, who however usually walked on the opposite side by themselves, but he was more frequently alone. Beyond this noth ng was known, or perhaps sought to be known, by the emigrants, as to who they were or what they were. But as our curiosity can- not be supposed to be regulated or circum- scribed by ship's discipline and the barrier of caste, why of course it becomts our duty to ourselves to walk into the curtained sanctum, and see what all this mystery is really about. It was on the third day, then, after the fair wind and fine weather had been established for general healthy purposes, that on looking into the saloon, up one side and down tho other, we siiould have been rewarded with a f\ill view of all the ordinary furniture appertaining to sa- loons genarally, together with two individuals uf the masculine gender, who were engaged at a quiet game of chess at tho furthermost end of tho apartment. " I fancy she is begining to rock again, Bol- ton," said one, laying his hand involuntarily on the chess-board. " I fancy you're about right, Orowley," re- turned the other. From these highly important and pertinent remarks, it is presumed the reader may form some faint idea as to who tho parties were. If not, it is only to be regretted that the time and ingenuity expended in framing them have been entirely lost, inasmuch as they will have failed to realize the sole end for which they were crea- ted, leaving it still incumbent upon us to pro- ceed in tho usual way, to state that it was indeed they and none other. In one of the state-rooms on the opposite side of tlio saloon, tho door of which was closed, wore three other individuals. Reclining on the small sofa which the room contained was the unfortunate Matilda. She had evidently been a great sufferer from the voyage; and was still ill. Her eyes were partly closed, she was deadly pale, and her Imnd trembled, as it hung at her side, from weakness and exhaustion. Kneeling by her side, with her tearful little eyes looking affectionately into her own, was tho beautiful little Alice ; but she was scarcely less pale, and seemed also to have suffered her share of the common affliction. Opposite, sat Black- bourn, with his legs crossed, and his hand supporting his head, apparently in some agi- tation. " No, I can't tell you why," he said after a long silence, as if in continuation of some for- mer remark. " I can't tell you why you are here, child. Why I should have conjured up a pack of lies to decoy you across this black abyss, I can't tell. I didn't want you. "Would to Heaven I had never seen you 1" " Oh, Blackbourn !" cried Matilda, in a faint voice, but with a look of extreme alarm, " have you then deceived me ? We are not going to poor dear papa ? he has not left England then ? Oh, Alice, dear Alice 1" she cried, putting her arm round tho weeping child, and drawing her closer; " my poor heart Alice, my poor heart! God forgive him ! he will kill me, and poor dear pal" fO LIFB AND ADVENTURES ^' iiiiii Alice kilted her afTeotiouAtelyiand iraootbed down iter liair with lier gontie little hand, and then, rising from her kneta and quietly diien- gaging hornelf, aho cruiaod over and laid her hand on Bluckbourn'a arm and railed her pnle •nd weeping countenance to his with a sup|ili> eating look ; her iipi moved ai tliough ihe wore attempting to ipcuk,but no sound could be heard, and she shook her head and pointed imploring- ly to the couch. He sat glaring from one to the other for several seconds, until his eyes became fixed, and his whole body trembled with emotion ; when ho started frantically to his feet, and cried, in a voico that rang through the whole saloon, " Oh, Alice, Alice, you too have become a tormentor I Why did I know you, girl ?" be continued turning savagely towards the terrified Matilda. " Why, Heaven I why ? Slie never maddened mn with her looks before. You have robbed me of my only comfort I could I have sought that? Go and ask the devils that are aUut us, wliy I brought you her» I cannot tel . you, unless it be to drive me mad — I wish it f.ould !" So saying he rushed out, and slammed the door behind him, and they heard biui pass out on to the deck. " Oh, Tilda, dear Tilda I" cried Alice falling on her knees by 'ler side ; " I didn't mean lo be cruel to him." " No, no dear," returned Matilda, pressing her little hands in her own : " you are too good, much too good, my own Alice. But he is very terrible : he has been very wicked, Alice, oh, very wicked I You will forgive me, dear, wont you ? but I can't help thinking of poor dear pa and ma. Oh, my poor heart, my poor heart t I shall never see them any more, — never, never, Alice 1" " yes, perhaps you will, Tilda," replied Alice putting her arms round her neck. "You mustn't cry now, — indeed you mustn't. I shall always love you, you know, so you mustn't cry, Tilda. And perhaps he will turn good to you some day, you know, and then we shall all be so happy I So you mustn't cry, that you mustn't. Oh, hark I what's that ?" It was the sound of Blackbourn's voice, ac- companied by a cry which appeared to proceed from a child. Fearing something was amiss she rushed out, and on reaching the door of the saloon, she saw Blackbourn standing on the deck with his arm raised and bis eyes glaring upon a little boy — it was Simon — who was cowering away from him at a little distance, lurrounder) by a largo concourie of the paiien- gen. " Keep him out of my way, then," said Blackbourn in reply to a remark from one of the byitanders. " Well lir," laid Timothy, who happened to be at liand, " with all due reference to you, sir, 1 dont see as you had any call to go for to strike at him like that. For my part I couldn't lee as ha was tn your way, — that'a what I couldn't." " No, no, no, not at all," said leveral of the passengers. " I'm sure I didn't mean to bo," said Simon. " By George I wliat's amiss ?" askod Mr. Plum> ley emerging from below. "Why the gentleman thought as Simy waa in his way and went for to aim a blow at him," said Timothy; "but he aint hurt him, as it hap- pened." " Oh, sir," said Mr. Plumley coming forward, "I'm sure that weren't right, sir, cause I'm sure he's a child as wouldn't give offense to any body." " Bah I nonsense I You are all mistaken," said Blackbourn ; and turning hastily round ho hurried into the saloon. Little Alice retreated the moment she saw him turn, and was out of sight before he entered. "Bolton," said Bl okbourn taking him by tho arm and leading him into a separate berth, " I am hemmed in with devils on all sides. They are driving me mad. I wish I had never set my foot on this cursed devil's hutch. If it hadn't been for your incessant howling I should have remained where I was. This is no plact. for me. The eyes of the whole ship are glaring at me. However, it is all in the programme I suppose. Just make some apology for me about that boy. Say I was drunk, — anything you please. You understand 7 I must lock myself up in that box, and keep there." Bolton hung down his head,and the old secret satisfaction sat upon his face as ho squeezed and ground his hands together and returned in silence to his chess. During the whole of this time the motion in the vessel observed by Mr. Growley, had been gradually and almost imperceptibly increasing, and it was now with some difficulty they were enabled to keep their men in their respective positions. The Captain (a rough, bluff, weather- beaten, good-hearted, cheerful old fellow) had been seen to make frequent and anxious excur- sions between the poop-deck and the glass which was kept swinging against the mast in OP SIMON 8RRK. fil be pMMB- hen," Mid om one of tppened to to you, elr, go for to 1 1 couldn't at'i whkt I reral of the aid Simon, d Mr, Plum- j Simy wai low at hira," m, as it hap- In g forward, r, cause I'm re offense to 1 mistaken," lily round he lice retreated id was out of king him by sparate berth, |on all sides. I had never hutch. If it [vling I should is is no plac*. p are glaring programme I for me about mylhing you lock myself I the old secret ho squeezed [i returned in Ihe motion in ley, had been lly increasing, llty they were \\t respective JluflF, weather- fellow) had Inxious excur- Ind the glass It the mast in the centre of the saloon ; and at each lucoeed- ding examination of the mercury the monosyl- able "I'gh," which invariably accompanied it, became more distinct and ominous. Holton liad scarcely roxained his seat, when, without the slightost warning, the vessel gave a sudden lurch, and over came castles, and bishops, and knights, and monarchs, pell-mell, all of a heap. Into his lap. A heavy sea had struck her on the beam, and so unexpected was it that oven the sailors lost their balance and were seen to bound from one side to the other like so many balls thrown from the hand ; while the unsuspecting steward, who liapnened at the very moment to be emerging from his pantry with an nrm-fuliof plates and dishes for deposit in the safety-rack, was observed to make a sud- den halt, stretch out his legs, throw his body in- to sundry extraordinary contortions, and, then with ono flying leap, away went plates, dishes, steward and all, crash against the opposite par- tition, through the panelling, away into the mate's berth, and down went the whole collec- tion in a heterogeneous lieap of crockery fragments, bruises, and sailors' benedictions. The Captain threw another hasty glance at the glass, and in another moment the order was given, " Take in to'-gallant sails," " Stow the jib ;" and away went the lads flying up the rig- ging, out upon the jib-boom, one after another, helter-skelter, with their "Ya ho, heave ho!" and in a few minutes all was confusion and rattle and tumult, and, among the passengers, consternation and alarm ; for with the majority, the only associations accompanying such move- ments were fire, rocks, or icebergs [ and many of them involuntarily thrust their heads over the sides to see if their was time to run down and arouse their friends before they were en- tirely engulfed. Heavy seas began to roll-in in rapid succession, and the vessel pitched, and tossed, and lurched until the passengers remain- ing on deck were forced to hold-on to the rig- ging, and cling to one another to maintain their balance ; and the wind came in heavy gusts, that every now and then sent the whole vessel trembling and groaning from top to bottom. The last order was scarcely executed, when, after another glance at the glass and a more emphatic " Ugh " than the last, the Captain em- erged from the saloon,and,taking another survey of the weather, shook his weather-beaten coun- tenance, and called to the mate : " Clew the mainsail, sir : she's coming." " Ay, ay, sir. It looks dirty." The old sailors turned their eyes to windward, and thence to leeward, and, following their captain's exa.nple, shook their heads and said It v« as their opinion that she xoai coming; and the young sailor looked up to tlin rigging, and whistled, and danced about, and shouted and grinned, and said. Lot her come. Darker, blacker grew the sky ; higher, fiercer rose the seas, and a wliltv crest began to gather on the waves as they rose, and rolled, and broke, and rose again, and dashed on each other's heels ; the wind came stoadior and stronger, the vessel pitched and tossed, and dashed through the foaming waters with furious bounds ; the passengers staggered from the dock ono after another with distorted bodies and anxious faces, and shook their heads when they got below like ill-omened oracles ; the captain paced to and fro, muttering to himself, and throwing hurried glances up at the sky ; and everything looked as much like an approaching storm as everything could look. " Martin," said the Captain, calling the first mate to him, " a word. What do you think of it?" "Dirty, sir; very dirty. I think it'll be down on us 'foro long. It's coming from the right quarter, sir. How's the glass, sir?" " Going down like lead. Hardly ever remem- ber it to fall 1.' ster. My opinion is *he't coming, A little rum and water, Martin ?" " Well, I 'xpect we shall have a stiff night of It, sir," replied Martin, with a voluminous jerk of his head to imply acquiesence. The captain led the way into the saloon and produced the rum. Custom had rendered it an impossibility for him to discuss a matter of this sort, soberly and sagely, without the assis- tance of this oracle, and he naturally concluded that the some infirmity had entered into the composition of his mate ; and Martin of course felt it a sort of moral duty devolving upon him to abstain from interfering with any such opi- nions so indulged in by his superior. " Look," saidthe Captain, directing the other's attention to the glass, " why — why, she's down that (measuring the distance with his finger) in the last fifteen minutes. Ay, I thought so, — she's coming," and he drank off a tumbler of rum and water, and nodded and winked myste- riously at the glass, and then to Martin, as much as to assure them both that he had been privately informed on the subject, and that there couldn't be the slightest doubt at all about the matter, inasmuch as he knew she was com- ing. " I haven't a ghost of a doubt about it, sir," 62 LIFE AND ADVENTURES replied Martin, examining the glass with the eye of a philosopher. " Close-reef top-sails, sir ?" " Yes ; close-reef top-sails. Is everything snug?" • ■ --.: ' " My word on it, sir." The wind was blowing harder and stronger every moment, and they had scarcely time to reef the top-sails before it came driving down upon them a complete gale. The seas rose higher and higher, and swelled and broke and dashed against the bulwarks, and went flying through the rigging and over the quarter-deck, until every man about was drenched to the skin, and the main-deck was washed by every sea that passed, — pouring in at one side and dash- ing out over the bulwarks on the other, with a fury that threatened to sweep every- thing before it. It was with the greatest diffi- culty that the men could move from place to place to execute the orders that were momen- tarily shouted out by the mate ; and it was only by clinging, as sailors only know how, to the ropes and cable-ends, and selecting their time with the skill which practice had given them, that they were enabled to preserve their footing jn the midst of the boiling waters that were lashed about them on all sides, and to save themselves from being dashed about the deck like so many helpless blocks. As it was, they were frequently carried oflF their legs and rolled against the masts and barrels and planks that were stowed away about the decks, or entirely buried, every now and then, under several feet of the boiling element. Still it rose higher and higher, harder and harder, mountain on mountain, thicker and faster, until the heavy voice of the mate as he bellowed forth his orders, could scarcely be distinguished above the rumbling of the heavy seas, as they rolled and broke, and thundered upon one another, and the steady, dead, perpe- tual, unchanging howl of the wind, that swept before it every sound but that of its own voice and the rumbling of the chaos over which it reigned. The glass still falls, but there is more yet. She is creaking and groaning already, but there is a hurricane behind, and out rushes the cap- tain, and, scramblingto the poop-deck, he seizes hold of trumpet and thunders forth with all his strength, and it sounds like the voice of a child in the midst of the raging elements : " Stow the top-sails ; haul out storm stay- sail." " Ay, ay, sir." And away go the dripping forms scrambling up the rigging, looking in the darkness like so many sea-monsters emerging one after another from the raging waters. Away they go, higher, higher, until they are lost in the impenetrable darkness, and then the faint " Ya ho, ya ho I" is heard like a distant wail travelling on the wind. Still on it comes harder, fiercer yet. She tosses, and pitches, and plunges furiously against her asailants as they thunder and split and break against her sides. Crash go the bulwarks in all directions, and in pours the victorious monster, sweeping over the decks, away over the other side, dashing and crashing and boil- ing up and down, and carrying havoc every where before it, and — hark I " Look to the long-boat^I — the flong-boat's a drift !" OflF scramble the black watery ghosts,but it is too late : away she goes dashing over the side, away into the boiling surge, and — hark, another cry! " Look to the galley ! — now then, hold on lads I for God's sake, hold on !" Two men are sweptfrom their hold and dash- ed furiously against the opposite side, and are all but overboard ; but the others hold on man- fully and the galley is secured, and lashed, and relashed, and this is scarcely accomplished when another shout! " Quick lads ! — a hand here, — the bo'swain's hurt!" And oflF they scramble again to where the injured man has been knocked down. He is disabled for duty, and they drag him through the boiling water as best they can to the fore- castle. Still on it comes harder and fiercer yet. The mountam seas run higher and higher and foam and plunge more furiously yet. Now she rolls down, down, down into a vast and boiling chasm, and the towering waters hang like a threaten- ing Etna above her ; and now she hangs high up on the frowning summit, ready to be dashed again into the gaping vortex below. But still she rolls on and on ; her timbers are staunch ; the hearts of a hundred souls are breathing prayers for her safety, and she carries them firmly in her grasp over the chaos of waters ! The destroying angels have no commission against thee, Wanderer, and thy woodbn walls are safe I While nature above board was rushing into these wild extravagances, — for which we don't profess to be able to give the why or the where- fore, nor the end nor the object, — it would III OF SIMON SEEK. tB hen, hold on the bo'swain's perhaps have been somewhat difHeult to form a just estimate as to the precise genus to which the varied and remarkable demonstrations that obtained among the passengers below, did really and legitimately belong. Whether the ludicrous, the tragic, the sublime, or the ridiculous predominated ; or what peculiar share they each and all enjoyed in the great medley that was therein enacted. The first shock which had so unceremonious- ly overturned iMr. Bolton's knights and bishops, had likewise performed the same office for sundry of the dramatU persona of this strange drama. One phlegmatic old gentleman, who was quietly enjoying his usual evening's potion by himself at a corner of the table, was seen suddenly to receive the tin pot containing the same, contents and all, in the centre of his waistcoat, while he himself straightway pro- ceeded to turn three distinct but inartistic Bomer-saults in rapid succassion across the cabin floor, until his head suddenly disappeared through a piece of half-inch panelling on the opposite side. Several persons instantly made a rush to his assistance ; bi:t the sudden rebound of the vessel unfortunately destroyed their equilibrium as they advanced towards him, and precipitated them, pell-mell, one upon another, with unmerciful violence, upon the unhappy acrobat; which melancholy disaster was only equalled by that which followed immediately in its rear, in the shape of the further oTepthrow into tlicir midst of a benevolent individual who happened to be moving along at the moment, cautiously, and as he imagined securely, with a basin of hot gruel in each hand, which he had affectionately provided for bis wife and daugh- ter. At the opposite end, at the same moment, a no less ludicrous and disasterous affair occurred in the midst of a small and select family circle, who had taken it into their heads to make a late tea by themselves and had ingeniously smuggled a kettle of hot water for the purpose. They had laid out at the extreme end of the table a most respectable " spread," cloth and all. The tea was steaming in the cups, the kettle was standing in a dish in the centre, and sundry luxuries graced the surrounding space, when the father of the flock — a rath.^r corpulent individual, and who happened to be sitting on the lee side — received the due influence of the lurch, and, feeling his equilibrium leaving him, seized hold of the cloth for support, and, amidst the screams and cries of the flock, over he rolled, dragging the whole of the luxuries, kettle and all, on to the top of his corpulent person. The unaccountable supply of individual and private bruises that that one lurch entailed up- on the " steerage," or rather the cabin, was incredible. But perhaps the most tragico* comic scene thatthe gale altogetherwas destined to afford, was singled out for a somewhat dis- tinguished member of the crowd, in the form of a Hampshire farmer, an individual constructed in the form of a barrel, with two huge parsnips serving the office of legs, and a pair of bulky, uncultivated carrots swinging in the place of arms, the whole being finished off with a round, fat, shiny head, very much of the form and color of a full-grown Swedish turnip. In consequence of an extraordinary propen- sity he had acquired for falling to sleep in all kinds of extraordinary attitudes and times and corners,-— having frequently been discovered in a state of somnambulism standing bolt upright in the centre of the gang-way with his hands in his pocketR and his body rigid, — he had been surnamed Joe, by some wags on board, after the world-famed Joe the fat boy. But Joe was a remarkably good-tempered fellow, and he took it all in good part. Well, at about the time that the storm was at its highest, Joe was seen suddenly to emerge from some invisible retreat in which he had hitherto been lost, and com- mence rolling, by means of a system which he had of sliding his hands gradually along the table with his back wedged firmly against the partitioning of the berths — down one side, round the end, and so on to his own berth, wherein he presently disappeared by some miraculou? agency. Now, it had often been observed, that, after disappearing in this manner for a few moments, Joe had returned smacking his lips, and approaching nearer than usual to a waking state. Well, he had scarcely been lost to view for more than half a dozen seconds, when the vessel gave a tremendous lurch, and crash went the framework of Joe's berth and out came Joe, flying in the air with his arms ex- tended, — a quart bottle in one hand and a wine- glass in the other. Crash went the back of the seat and over came Joe, bottle and all, plump into the centre of the table, where the rebound of the vessel kept him oscillating on his spine for several seconds, with his arms still extended and the bottle and glass trembling in his tena- cious grasp, until another lurch came, and away he rolled, crash against the seat on the opposite side, over and over, crash, dash, into the opposite berth ; where he was only saved 54 LIFE AND ADVENTURES from bonnding through the ship's side by the extraordinary strength of the wood-worlc, and the rebounding effect of a collision with a poor unfortunate old lady who happened to be pillow- ed therein. While such scenee as these were enacting by the gross, and erery lurch brought its disaster and overthrow, there was a confusion of tongues and a mental aberration raging among the weak- er brethren that was perhaps altogether une- qualled by anything corporeal that transpired. The aggregate amount of female groans — made the more dismal from the fact that each one was regarded as about the last— that swelled the discordant chorus in that time of trial, it were impossible to estimate by any calculating- machine that was ever thought of. At every fresh plunge of the vessel, the whole place rang with soprano screams, and half-articulate ex- flamatioiis to the effect that all was lost— that they kiilt her going — that they were resigned to it, and all they could ask for was mercy ; which would almost instantly be followed by a reac- tion, and the place would ring again with fresh cries for some one to come and save them — in fact, that they would be saved if it were only for mercy's sake. Some were less exacting, nnd assured any body and every body that if they would only come forward and save the child, they would die happy. Another would undertake to resign the world without a moan, if they would only there and then agree to save her husband — not that she believed he could ever live happy without her, but there, she was a woman, and it was her place to suffer ; while another asked nothing more than that they would just tell her if there was danger — was there danger? she wr.s a wife and a mother, and therefore she wanted to know — was there danger? and as every one persisted in telling her there was no danger, she straightway com- menced a pitiful wailing, and said she under- stood them — ^yes she understood them ; and such being the case, she was resigned to it, and only begged to be saved for the sake of her husband and child. Among the thus afflicted, the unfortunate Miss Plumley was not one of the least. On the first approach of bad weather while in the channel, she had taken to her berth, stating that she felt she had been reserved for a watery grave, and, being a victim, she might]as well be one, and she merely begged that they would apprise her of the time and manner in which her last moments should be cast ; and neither en- treaties, nor threats, nor persuasion had been available in inducing her to quit her position so taken, either bodily or mentally. ^s the storm advanced, Mrs. Plumely, who had hitherto been unwearied in her attentions upon her, had been compelled to retreat with her little Lizy to her berth, and Miss Plumley was left alone ; whereupon she almost imme- diately lifted up her voice and wept aloud. " George dear, do go to Selina," said Mrs. Plumley to her husband, who was scrambling to and fro, hither and thither— not only attend- ing to his own family, but to one half the families on board ; in which good ofBce he was assisted by Timothy, who was unanimously voted by the whole cabin to be equal to three stewards, a stewardess, and a cook, at any given moment. " Hark, how ill she must be 1 Oh do go!" Mr. Plumley staggered away, and in another moment was supporting himself against the frame-work of his sister's berth. " Well, Selina, what's a matter ? What can I do for you, eh child ?" A groan. " Come, cheer up, girl. What would you like —a little brandy ?" " Oh — mercy — what — a — victim I " groaned Miss Selina. "What could — ^you have — brought me here — to die for Ge — orge ? Oh, I'm a victim. I wish you would get some one — to put me in the sea — Oh, I wish you would." '■Come, come, you mustn't talk like that there, girl." " Oh, I dare say — that dreadful-looking sailor with the black beard would do it — oh dear— - I wish you would let him, George — he looks fit for anything. Oh, mercy ! — what a victim I" Miss Selina entirely refused to be comforted. The more her brother sought to console her, the more she insisted on instant measures being taken for committing her to the waves — that a period might be put to her victimized existence. Well, towards the morning the storm began to abate,and by sunrise,al though the sea was still running high, there was nothing more than a stiff breeze blowing from the eastward, and that was still rapidly abating. By noon it bad almost completely lulled into a calm, and the sea was fast subsiding into a similar condition ; while the sun shone out brilliantly and dried up the decks and saturated rigging ; the passen- gers began again to appear from below, and gradually crowded the decks ; and the fears and calamities of the night were soon effectually and for ever dispelled by the brilliancy and beauty of the day. - . r.. position BO mely, who attentiona itreat with B8 Plumley lost imme- aloud. ," said Mrs. scrambling inly attend- le half the Bice he vas nanimouslj aal to three it any given bel Ob do i in another against the What can )uld you like 1 " groaned ve — brought ['maTictim. to put me in k like that >oking sailor •oh dear— e — be looks at a victim 1" e comforted, sole her, the sures being aves — tbat a d existence, atorm began sea was still nore than a stward, and noon it bad aim, and the T condition ; and dried the passen- below, and the fears and effectually illiancy and OF SIMON SEEK. 55 In the evening, Alice (the little lady, as the emigrants 'called her) -.ras seated in her little chair by the salooc door, with her book in her hand, attentively watching a group of children who were engaged at a short distance from her in a somewhat limits (< game of " touch." Lizy and Simon were amorg them, and it appeared to be the latter upon whom Alice's attention was more particularly concentrated. Her eyes followed him mechanically wherever he went ; a^d at length, as he stopped close to her chair with his hand on a piece of iron that was to protect him from his pursuer, she spoke to him. " May I speak a word to you, little boy, svhen you have finished playing t" she said speaking partially in a whisper. " Oh, yes, if you please, miss," replied Simon giving his attention at once. " Oh, don't let me interfere with your playing, please," said Alice, slightly confused by the suddenness of his acquiescence. " I'm quite tired, thank yon, miss," replied Si- mon ; for the fact is he fell "^-'e proud and a little confused himself at ' . oticed by the handsome little lady. Alice looked at him for a moment, and then bent down her head as though she were doubtful if she should speak to him then ; but after a mo- ment's hesitation she shook her pretty little curls over her face, and, looking up at him again, observed, " I wanted to ask you if you were hurt yesterday? because Tve been so anxious to full of beautiful tales, aud it is called the Arabian Nights," said Alice looking shyly up. " Oh yes, I am sure I should, miss," replied Simon. At this point of the conversation Alice be- came evidently confused, as if she wanted to say something and didn't know whether she ought or not. At length, after marking out « variety of odd shapes on the cover of the book with her finger, she looked up, and throwing her little head pensively on one side, she said softly, " Simon — you wouldn't mind if I were to call you Simon for the little time we are on thia dreadful ship, would you 7 " " You are very kind, miss, I'm sure," replied Simon almost with the tears in his eyes, her peculiarly kind manner in addressing him so overcame his susceptible nature. " Not if you please, Fm sure." "Well, itrfoM seem strange, don't it?" said Alice hanging down her head as the color rose to her beautiful little cheek. " But I think I am a very strange little girl, do you know. I never spoke to a little boy before in my life, I think, and only once or twice to a little girl. That is very strange, isn't it ? I've always been alone — quite alone, and that seems so very dreadful, doesn't it? I have had a governess, you know, but I don't call her a friend, because she was cross, and I didn't like her much. Well, I was going to ask you, Simon — is that considered a pretty name 7" "I'm sure I dont know." " Well, I was going to ask you if you thought your ma would let you come and read to me on the deck when it is so very fine — if you would like to." " I should be very glad to indeed, if I could," replied Simon. " Ob, I am sure you must be able to read beautifully, — perhaps better than I can. Then it would be so delightful, and it would be just the same as if we both read the books, wouldn't it ? Oh, but what a strange girl," she continued , rising and shaking her pretty little curls over her face. " Please do ask your ma, will you ? Oh, good bye Simon, — oh, I am so strange I'! So saying, and still shaking her head to and i fk' 50 LIFE AND ADVENTURES fro, she darted off into the saloon, leaving Si- mon with his eyes brim-full of tears, loolcing after her, bewildered and confused, and wondo^ ing why so beautiful a little lady should bare taken so much interest in a poor boy like him- self. Little Lizy bad run away and hid herself behind a mast as soon as she saw Simon conyersing with the little lady, w'i3nce she stood and watched them with an i . ious countenance, — and her little heart beat, and the tears came involuntarily to her eyes, although she could not tell why. She was very glad to see Simon taken notice of by the little lady, and yet there was another feel- ing that made her sorry; and when ^lice disappeared she felt almost afraid to approach him— her sensitive little heart beat faster and faster, and she felt very, very sad, but she could not tell why. Was it a silent Tvhispering within her of the sorrows of future yrars ? Mrs. Plumley was of course very proud and pleased that her darling little boy should be made so much of by the little lady ; and day after day, when the weather was fine, he was seen seated by her side reading and talking ; and often did he sit by the hour together, gazing in silent admiration on her beautiful counte- nar.ce, and lost in the wanderings of his own bewildered little soul. And thus were sown in his heart the first seeds of a future, imbittered and charmed and disordered with strange emo- tions and conflicting passions, that were desti- ned to control bis movements, to direct his aspirations, and for a time to distract his mind and destroy the happiness of himself and of those that were dear to him. Although little Lizy bad often been asked to form one of their party, she could never be pre- vailed upon to do so. She usually seated herself alone in some distant corner, whence she could watch them unobserved, and often the tears were in her eyes ; but she scud nothing and never complained of being left alone for so many hours ; and when Simon — his conscience telling him that he had neglected her— tried to make up for it by telling her all about the tales he had been reading, and what the little lady had said to him, she always laughed and kissed him an'' said they were both very good, and she was sure he wouldn't forget bis poor little Lizy. So time went on, day after day ,with fair winda and head winds, fine weather and foul, until, after crossing the " Banks " in a dense and un- comfortable fog, the sun rose brilliantly and gaily on the fortieth day out, and they sighted the first land, — a long, blue irregular streak, away, far away in tlw distance, — and with cUeerful faces, and hopeful hearts, and grateful minds, they entered the Gulf of St. Lawreneo and bore down upon the Canfid^au shores. CHAPTER X. THE ARRIVAL AND FLIGHT. As the emigrants entered the St. Lawrence, the imposing scene that gradually opened before them, inspired them with all the known varities of pleasurable emotions. There were the far- famed Canadian hills — the glorious mountain range, that rises up like nature's giants fbom her rock-bound banks — summit on summit, higher, loftier, mightier as they stretch away, range after range, height upon height ; — now tower- ing up like the monarchs of creation, high and higher, marching onward to the clouds; and now rolling away chain upon chain— away, un- til they dissolve in the distance, rising, and swelling and undulating like the waves of a mighty ocean, enchaining the seni->e, and wrap- ping the imagination in admiration and delight as it rolls on in contemplation of their vast and untrodden labyrinths. There was the wild and trackless forest, clambering up the lofty steeps, filling the deep valleys, and ravines, and un- dulations with its ever-varying hues, and cloth- ing the landscape — as far as the eye could pene- trate, above and below, and away over an inter- minable tract, with a rich mantle of the never- ending, never-tiring varieties of nature's gor- geous colorings — blended and softened,and dis- solved in the distance, until nature herself seemed bewildered and lost in the accumula- tion of her own extravagance and profusion. As this imposing scene gradually opened and OP SIMON SEEK. 57 finge emo- rere destl* direct his t his miud tit and of m asl^ed to Tcr be pre- Lted herself ) she could . the tears >thing and ane for so conscienoe tr— tried to ut the tales ) little lady i and kissed tod, and she : little Lizy. h fair wiads foul, until, ose and un- iiantly and hey sighted iilar streak, —and with tnd grateful t. LawrenoQ shores. I and delight tieir vast and the wild and lofty steeps, DCS, and un- 3, and cloth- ) could pene- (ver an inter- )f the never- uature's gor- ined,and dis- ,ture herself e accumula- profusion. y opened and %xpKr.ded and burst upon their view, their hearts leapt within them, they clapped their hands, they rushed about the detks, calling t« one another,— men women and children became completely ungovernable in their excitement ; and as far as could be judged from their repeated and vociferous exclamations, and the general expression of countenance, they no longer entertaiued a doubt that Canada was a great country — & glorious country ; that to a certain extent bet streets Inust bo paved with gold, and her highways flowing with milk and honey ; and further, that from that moment their fortunes, indiviuaally and collectively, were for the most part made. And certainly, if an imposing land- scape—if the wildest and grandest of nature's handilrorks — the most magnificent scenery that it would be possible for the world to produce, were any earnest or criterion of such a happy condition, they were fblly and Unquestionably justified in their conclusions. Towards the evening of the third day in the river, and while they were yet In a whirl of ex- citement, — sending up their grateful acknow- ledgements to whomsoever it might concern for having provided for their several necessities and establiahcd them in life on such a sound and satisfactory basi"; — it was proposed by Mr. Kwack, and generally responded toby the com- pany, that a " mass " meeting of the whole con- gregation of fortunate adventurers should be held below, for the purpose of discussing their future prospects and designs in a ft-iendly and unsophisticated manner,for the general instruc- tion and edification. Mr. Kwack having proved himself the great orator and oracle on every sub- ject throughout the passage, Was unanimously voted to the chair ; and the principal lions of the company were arranged in due order on his right and left ; while the listening crowd were stowed away and huddled together by the dozen round the tables, and in odd corners, or perched up in their berths with their heads hanging over, their hearts in their mouths, and expectation on tip-toe to hear tlie best suggestions, and the prospects held out by th^ oracles of making a fortune oflT-hand, and arriving at that degree of independence to which fhllen nature will never cease to aspire, doubtless, until the world Is remodelled, and the glorious era of the Kwack philosophers and philanthropists is ushered in. On the philosopher's right sat Mr. Albosh, Mr. Plumley, Timothy, and William,— the latter gentleman having found the society of the emi- grants an irresistable attraction to his social and colloquial turn of mind, notwithstanding that his master had taken care to provide him with a spare berth in the saloon for the twofold object of keeping him within call and prevent- ing any unnecessary intercourse with the "steer- age." On his left sat Joe— already made con- spicuous and celebrated by his somnambulism and bottle-fept— and two young men of rather a superior exterior to the ordinary run of the crowd, and with respect to whom, as they are already singled out as future subjects and fellow-laborers in these Adventures, a word may not be out of place. They were brothers, of about the respective ages of twenty-six and seventeen; and had crossed the ocean provided with the euphonious patronymic of Sorftish. Josiah, the elder Sorf- lish, was a slimly made, sickly looking, lopo- riferous piece of framework, that looked as if he had been forced in a hot-bed, and allowed to shoot out in all directions, until he iiaa uliiroately run to seed and lost his identity in a straggling complication of nothing but arms and legs. He was married ; and had for his wife a harmless little, teL.der-hearted fragment of afllection and simplicity, thatfron. her cradle upwards — with a view to the hardships of a colonial life— had been Systematically fed and developed on sentiment, soft words, indolence, and curl-papers. She had of course been a great sufferer from the effects of the voyage, but she bore it all with an amiable S'^eetness, buoyed up by the happy anticipations of bliss and sunshine, plenty and prosperity, with which, in her innocence, she had invested that stern, matter-of-fact laud to which She was going. PhiHp, the youngest Sorftish, was established on "better principles, and constructed out of sharper and stouter material than his soporific brother; but nevertheless he did'nt think so. He looked up to his brother Josiah with a Sort of reverential awe; and he would just as soon have thought of jumping over the side of the vessel in the immediate vicinity of a dinnerleso shark, as of disputing one inch of ground on any subject whatsoever with the oracular Josiah ; — in fact, It may be mentioned in illustration, that he scarcely ever felt so much as a private inclination to sneeze that be did at straightway cast up his eyes to the soporific countenance to ascertain the propriety or non- propriety, as therein indicated, of allowing na- ture to take her course. They were two flowers of a flock of ten, and the beloved offspring of a broken-down merchant of the city of London — the ruins of whom were then and at that time to be found ensconced with bis partner in affile- flp LIFE AND ADVENTURES tion in a " two-pair back " in one of the obscure comers of the suburban retreat of Haggerstone. Being indulgent and affectionate parents, thej had educated their children to nothing in parti- cular, and sent ther forward in the world with good advice, no means, less experience, and with certain confused ideas of thoir own importance —inasmuch as, being the direct representatives of nothing, they considered themselves candi- dates for anytking, which we believe is popular- ly recognised as about the same thing. Jos'a however had started on his present expedition as he had taken no inconsiderable pains to h. press upon the minds of his fellow-passengers,oa what he termed a safe basis — which consisted of the lawful possession of no loss a sum than one hundred and fifty pounds of lawful English money ; which he calculated, on being trans- formed into solid Canadian land, would tend to render him a pretty considerable individual in his own right, without much chance of mis- take about the matter. Well, all parties being asseiubled and every- thing in order, Mr. Kwack opened the proceed- ings. He rose stifly, firmly, and imposingly- placed the tips of his fingers on the table, ele- vated his eyebrows, and said, " Friends and fellow-passengers I In the va- rious ramifications of our social destiny, we find ourselves inscrutably thrown together in a heterogeneous multitude — exiles and wanderers from our patrimonial inheritance, seeking a home and an asylum amidst the uncongenial and in- congruous vicissitudes of a foreign cliiae (hear, hear). Well, what we wish on the present occa- sion, is to elicit a clear and perspicacious eluci- dation of the various conflicting concatinations of progressional advancement (cheers). We pro- pose that each gentleman called upon, shall elucidate his views as perspicaciously as possi- ble. For my own part, my natural bias will probably lead me in a channel perhaps totally diametrical to that in which most of you, in the natural fluctuation of events, will be pertina- ciously impelled." " Begging your pardon for the interruption," saidWilliam,who felt disposed to view the whole proceedings as a sort of practical joke, " but, if it's a fair question, I suppose you go in bang for the Gov'nor-Uen'ralsbip, by way of starting like ?" (a laugh). " Gentlemen," continued Mr. Kwack, thrust- ing his hand into his waistcoat after the manner of Bonaparte, and drawing himself up erect, " I make no boast. I leave the future to the in- scrutable unravellings of an incomprehensible destiny. But I simply say that it will be • a part of my tactics to watch with a perspica- cious scrutiny both the political, moral, s :ientif fie, and philosophical fundamentalities of the Canadian nation ; and if fortune and my owa humble abilities should open up the way to future emolument and agg.andizomi \t in any one of those categorical ascendencies, why I hope that your humble servant will be found equal to any functionary responsibilities that the aberration of eventc may consign to his care or supervision (bear, hear). Gentlemen, I will not occupy your time with any unnecessary perambulations. But before I sit down, I think it my duty to assure you of my unqualified con- viction, from what I have already seen of this magnificent and flourishing Province, that we have a mine of wealth, an ocean of power, a universe of happiness, before us ; and it is only for us to exercise a due and legitimate propor- tion of perspicuity and comprehensive penetra- tion, in order to lay our tenacious grasp on the fundamental principle of all sublunary good, and ultimately to arrive at the very pinnacle of sacerdotal puissance in the midst of the laby- rinthical concatiuatior a of humanity and men" (cheers). " Bravo 1" cried William, a» soon as the phi- losopher had resumed his seat. " That's what 1 call a perspicacious elucidation of incomprehen- sibility. Take my advice and don't condescend to the Gov'nor-Gen'ralship. Who's the next ?" Mr. Kwack again rose. "We can all appreciate a joke," said Mr. Kwack ; " but certainly the inscrutable halluci- nations of our facetious friend are something pertinaciously incomprehensible. I beg to call on my learned and scientific friend on my right. Mr. Albosh, gentleman." Mr. Albosh rose omidat much cheering. " Gentlemen and friends," said Mr. Albosh ; " since I have looked out upon the gigantic developement of this unrivalled country, I feel satisfied in my own mind that I have made a discovery. I believe I am among friends, I believe I am addressing men of honor and integ- rity ; and therefore I make no sciuple of announcing the fact, that, from the knowledge which i happen to possess of the noble sciences, of geology and mineralogy, I am fully convinc- ed in my own mind that such a formatioh as that by which we have all been enchanted this day, cannot possibly exist without the co-exis- tence in no limited degree of auriferous deposits — of the precious metal which constitutes the wealth of nations ; and I am further persuaded I OF SIMON SEEK. V will be • a perspicM- ral, I JientU ties of tb« od mj own ,he wajr to L \t in any ies, why I k be found ilities that 1 to hit care men, I will nnecessary >wn, I think lalitied con- een of this e, that we f power, • d it is onlj ate propor- ve penetro- ;rasp on the inary good, pinnacle of f the laby- ) and men" as tho phi- aat's what I somprchen- iondescend the next?" " said Mr. ble halluci- something beg to call n my right ering. (r. Albosh ; ke gigantie atiy, I feel tve made a friends, I r and integ- sci'uple of knowledge ble sciences, ly convinc- rmatioh as hanted this he co-exis- >us deposits ititutes the ' persuaded i that the peculinr character of these depoiiti will render the cost of working and producing the same a matter of but small importance— in fact, a mere bagatelle." " What do yon say to lower the boats and fetch away a sample of a few hundred weights offhand?" suggested William. "Gentlemen," continued Mr. Albosh, "our friend is disposed to be facetious ; but I would seriously impress upon you not to regard this suggestion as a bagatelle ; and I could only wish that I could see the whole of our friends around us at this moment combined in heart and pocket in one grand expedition of discovery to these auriferc><« hills; but I suppose such a thought is ent .ely fallacious. For xnf own part, Immediately on our arrival at our destina- tion, I shall make this discovery the subject of a memorial to the Gove nor of this flourishing Province, together with sundry other important schemes w hich I have in view for the further- ance of the interests of tiiis the country of our adoption ; and I doubt not that the spirit of enterprise and progress which actuates its sons, will respond in a manner both beneficial to themselves and flattering to your humble servant. Gentlemen, such is the modut operandi which I hp.vc at pre£<;nt in view. Your views and prospects arepossibi7of a different charac- ter ; but I would say this, thai In this country there \\, room for all. You have the assurance, gentlemen, from one that speaks from good authr rity, that with perseverance, industry, and intellect, there is to be found in this country bot'j wealth, independence, position, and hap- pi'iess (cheers). I call upon our friend Mr. Rorftish." Mr. Josioh Sorftish rose; and in rising he produced a palpable sensation, — such a sensa- tion as a stray ghost in a clean sheet might have carried before him hod he suddenly appear- ed from the unfathomable depths below them without introduction or invitation. He npoke in an unassuming voice, that was about the happy medium between the soprano of the sot'icr halves of humanity, and the nocturnal melodies of the Canadian bullfrog. " It is my awpinion, gentlemen — a," said Mr. Sorftish, " that — a— we shall — a — find that — a —Cane da presents — a — to the man with pru- dence and experience — a— and a small capital —a — a small capital — a direct road to success — a — and even to opulence — a. We may have to rough it — a — (hear, hear, from Joe) but for my part I am prepared for that — a. I have a small capital— some hundred and fifty — a — and I flatter myself I can turn my hand to anything — a — (Joe shakes bis head). And then I hare a brother — a— who, with a little guidance — a— I have no doubt will be able to turn his hand to almost anything likewise — a — and I flatter myself that that is what is wanted in this coun- try — a." (Hear, hear, from fifteen individual! at once, all of whom, having been apprenticed and trained up to nothing, were, like Mr. Sorf- tish, perfectly prepared to turn their hands to anything.) " Yes, gentlemen," continued Mr. Sorftish, " I would impress upon you the import- ance of being in a position to turn your handi to anything." " If I might be allowed to put a question," said William, " I would just ask the gentleman, what he would advise in case the market hap- pened to be full of gentlemen of that there profession — which I take to be rather probable ; and further, if he goes in for the popular comparison between anything and nothing?" " I apprehend — a," replied Mr. Sorftish, " that my sentiments — a — are better understood than to be subject — a — to any miscon— a— ception — a — such as Mr. — a — a — would wish to convey — a. But what I say is — a — and I repeat it — a — that prudence, experience and a small capital — fl — if not more — a — than a hundred and fifty will — a — carry a man a long way — a — in a country like this — a — "(clieers). " Well, I should say it would," r arsued William, " seeing that they do the travelling at a hap'ny a mile. To Halifax and back I should say — a- -, So up goes the next." The chairman called upon his esteemed and perspicacious friend Mr. Plumley. " There's only just one obs'vation, gentlemen, as I shall offer," said Mr. Plumley, "if you'll excuse me, as I'm not accustomed to this here sort of thipg. But, with all difference, I think as we all seem to labor under a gre::t mistake with respect to this here country. And that is as we all seems to be looking towards making a fortin. Xow, with all difference, I thinks my- self—not that I wants to discourage any one— but I thinks as we shall find as there aint all that wonderful difference atween the two countries as we seems to look for ; and that if so be as we can make a comfortable livelihood, it's all as we can reasonably expect (hear, hear, from Joe) ; and I shouldn't wonder if we has to work hard and close even for that, let alone a fortin. I don't expect no fortin, and I'm sure I only hope as them as do won't be disappointed, that's what I do, I'm sure. But I would strongly advise you, in a friendly manner like, not to ue 60 LIFE AND ADVENTURES too tAgerwin ; iind I hope I're given no offence, friends, which Tm I'lre I didn't menn to." Hear, hear, from Joe, cheers fVomWilliam, and silence from the rest of the company. Joe was next called upon. " Oi'm noa speaker," said Joe, " but oi agree with wort Mr. Plomlej have sa-ad. Oi doan't wornt to boHist loik a thing, burt thor* oi've gort a little morn j loik— a fuifty pnn' or soa ; yoit oi doan't expect noa fortins. Oif oi couldn't work moi forteen or foiftcen hours a daj, oi shouldn't expect to do much in Ganadj. Oi'm torld by moi brother, who's been in the country now (join'orn for ten year, tha-at thors never a thing got by orny thing but bard work —noivtr a bit. Morny even aint o' murch use without hard work, soa it's moi orpinion that tha-at's wort we've gort to look for-'ard to." This speech, like the last, was received with anything but general approbation ; the preva- lent opinion being among all classes, that gold and independence were the chief constituents of the Canadian character ; and that anything was the rMiet line of business by which that happy r .dition was arrived at and maintained. Several hot and powerful speeches— which com- pletely succeeded in oonvincingall those infavor of the principle — were forthwith made from all quarters of the cabin, to prove the utter fallacy of supposing that a man that could turn his hand to anything that happened to " turn up," wos'nt in the high road to fortune the very moment he planted hia foot on Canadian soil, and that fortune wouldn't straightway come forward and turn np a trump ; and further that when a man of about that stamp had the powerful lever of capital — of anything ap- proaching a hundred and fifty, to back him, that he wasn't at once plunging into an unfathom- able ocean of wealth, power, and importance : and this principle had just been indubitably and everlastingly established, when an unusual bustle was heard above, combined with the thundering of the heavy anchor out at the bows ; and on rushing on deck they found themselves lying before the Quarantine station, that s lu- brious little Paradise of Grosse Isle — for salu- brious it certainly must and ought to be. Considering the umonnt of disease and filth and depravity and wretchedness it has had to con- tend with for the last fifty years ; an ordeal from which it still emerges every spring as bright and cheerful and salubrious as ever, and still sends out its invitation to the thousands of infected, ship-soourged, ill-conditioned mortals that roll in, load after load, to the " land of promise," that they may be cleansed and mad* whole, and sent straightway into the land of milk and honey in a healthy and sanitary con- dition. There having been no disease nor sickness of any moment on board, the vigilance of the health-officers was soon satisfied, and, after a little general cleansing and an immense amount of bustle and ct-nfusion and anxiety on the part of the emigra ts, they were allowed to go their way in peace. The next day the sun shone down brilliantly, and lit up the infinity of «rhite villages that crowd together on both sides of the river on the way to Quebec, with a wonderfully beautiful effect ; and nil hands on board, as they rolled past them one after another towards the goal of their happiness, were to say the very least, transported,— in fact, much happier than trans- prortation was ever known to render any equal number of the race ; until, at a little after mid- day, after catchingsundry glimpses of glittering spires and Biiir.ing gables from between tho hills, they rounded the Point, and, behold, tl. full blaze and splendour of the far-famed city of Quebec outburst upon their astonished gazo. Towering r p tier after tier, with its tinned rooft and spires and gables, 'ihiningand blazing and glowing in the sun-light ; its infinite variety of shapes and forms and positions — iif far-famed citadel and ramparts frowning down from their rock-bound heights, and looking like giants of strength that might defy the battering-rams of the world ; and then away on all sides the mag- nificent scenery by which it is surrounded — tho forest-mantled hiils, and the bold mountain- chain, stretching away range after range as far as the eye can reach, and all glowing and blaz- ing in the mid-day-sun, — it looked, to their as- tonished view, like a mountain of oriental splendour ; and the poetical among them at once peopled it with all the fabled fairies and genii of Eastern romance. Every one was on deck, and every one was rushing about in a state of sublime excitement ; and among them Mr. Kwack might justly be described as being fairly rampant. " There you are—there you are ! there's the whole thing elucidated 1" he cried, slapping Mr. Plumley sharply on the back, and making a sweep over the whole city with his right hand. "Positively tin — pure metallic tin, blazing away upon the very roofs I none of your tupny hap'ny tiles and slates and inscrutable rubbish, giving every one the contumacious blues to look at, here I If that's the ostentatious fun- OF SIMON SEEK. 1 1 \ 6\ id and in»d« the Und of tnitarj con- r sicknoM of anoe of tlie and, after a ense amount :ietj on the Uowed to go D brilliantly, rillatres that > rirer on the \]y beautiful I they rolled rds the goal le Tery least, er than trans- ler any equal lie after mid- 9 of glittering between the 1, behold, tL r-famed city onished gazo. s tinned rooft 1 biasing and finite variety -its far-famed wn from their like giants of Kriiig-rams of ides the mag- rounded — the Id mountain- r rnnge as far ring and blaz- i, to their as- of oriental ong them at d fairies and y one was on g about in a among them bed as being B ! there's the slapping Mr. nd making a is right hand, tin, blazing )f your tupny :able rubbish, ous blues to itatious fun- daments of the roofs, what will one expect to see in the itreeti— ^h, my cadaverous denpond- ing topolonean 7" added the philosopher, quidc- rning the perceptibilities of his cadaverous friend with a tremendous dig in the ribs. "Ah, Alboshl what d'ye think of this?" " 0, there can't be two rational opinions about it," replied Hr. Albosh, who for some moments had had his eye riveted upon the fortifications. "But what astonishes me is (to be sure we might expect it in a now country) tlie almost infinite scope one sees every where for discovery. Just look here. Tlie conotruc- tion of these ramparts. Now, according to all the known laws of fortification and defeuce, the entire construction of this outer wing is altogether prepost'rous. Who ever heard of turning an angle in that manner— d'ye see I here on the right ;— just in the very position in which it would never be able, by any earthly chance or possibility, to plant a shot effectually in any quarter from which an enemy could possibly approach. Lor bless my soul I if a man of anything like parts did'nt make a fortune here, what on earth must he be about!" " Ay so — a — I should say — a," observed Mr. Sorftish, who had just been pointing out to his brother the amount of room that existed for two such enterprising individuals as themselves in the shape of wild and uncultivated tracts of country that stretched away in all directions. "And especially — a — when I rfee — a — on all sides — a— the scope there is for experience — a — and a small capital — a — . Doubtless the Canadians— a — are deplorably ignorant— a— and know very little about — a — the proper cul- tivation—a — of the soil- a — dou'otless." Joe, who had just fallen to sleep against the main mast, started up at the word " soil ;" but when he saw from whom it proceeded, he shook his head ominously and fell again into obli- vion. In a very short time they were boarded by the customs oflScers and the guardians of the general health ; and it was observed that Blaekbourn availed himself of the vety first opportunity of hailing a boat and going ashore. He went alone ; and to those acquainted with his habits in London, it was icasy to perceive that he either aimed at a very eccentric display of his wardrobe, or else— which was most pro- bable—at disguise. Among the first specimens that appeared on board from the fairy city was a tall, thin, cada- verous piece of animated American clay — that looked remarkably like pipe-tlay baked brown and anointed with a coating of oart-greaee to impart to it the outward and vieible aign of aa inward and decidedly invisible soul. He wae att'red and made eligible aa on* Among the oitiEeni of the world, in a loose blouse coat, striped nankeen continuations, that looked as if they had been constructed out of the Ame- rican atandard, and sufficiently proclaimed the flag under which he sailed among the congre- gations of men ; the crowning point of the whole being an extensive straw hat that threw its shadow over the whole eha^wy eubstance over which it brooded, and conveyed to it the general appearance and effect of an overgrown mushroom in a time of dearth. He was driving before him a small factory of emoke from about ten inches by one of the "weed"; and hie ap- pearance on the whole was atvongly suggestive of the idea of his having been cultivated in s lime-kiln, and fed and nourished from his in- fancy upwards on quick-lime, tobacco smoke, and " Yankee notions." After lookint^ around with the eye of a con- noisseur on the emigrants swarming about the deck, he seemed all of « sudden to decide in favor of Mr. Plumley, wh > was standitig apart from the rest conversing with Timothy ; and he immediately walked up to him and accosted him with the ease and familiarity of an old and tried acquaintance. "Heow d'ye dew?" he said; and the sharp nasal twang in which the words were encased, went into Mr. Plumley's ears, and produced a similar sensation to that which would ensue from the scraping of a bad fiddle on the wrong side of the bridge. Mr. Plumley thanked him, aad thought he was pretty well considering. " Ouess yeou've had a smart pass'ge 1" said the stranger. As Mr Plumley considered that the definition " smart " would apply equally well to any de- scription of passage whatsoever, he replied that such was the case. " Galc'late yeou're all Britishers here, mis- ter?" pursued the stranger. Mr. Plumley was of that opinion. " I sh' say, yeou'd be going up West ?" conti- nued the other. "A tarnal feine country tew* Galc'late yeou'll be wantin' a neat little plot, friend?" The stranger removed bis cig»r and emitted a long, thin, elongated stream of smoke as he contemplated Mr. Plumley's countenance with his keen, piercingeye, after making thf SO interro- gatory remarks ; and Mr. Plumley felt both a 62 LIFE AND ADVENTURES little confused and amused ae he re\>lied that he was not exactly lure about the i>1ot at pre- sent. " Reckon, mister," laid the other, lowering hii Toice almost to a whisper, and iayinff his finger on Mr. P.'s shoulder, '* if want a reg'lar OoT'ment Agent to put yeou in the way of do- Ing the proper thing, slirlc off like, cnlc'late I'm yeour man. Want a neat little vill'go lot — tarnal feine land — consider yourself lucky fol- low to fall in along wi' me." " Much obliged to you," said Mr. Plumloy, *' but 1 think not at present, thank you." "Sh' say, yeou'd better deal with a Got'- ment Agent. Feind me up-and-down straight, I guess I" returned the other. « Perhaps Mr. Sorftish 'ud be likely. He's a wantin' somethin' o' that there sort," said Ti- mothy, glancing inquiringly at Mr. Plumley. " OuesB yeou're a smart lad," said the Go- vernment Agent, turning sharply round upon Timothy. " S'pose the gent's a-board ?" " Yes ; there he is," said Timotliy, pointing the gentleman out with his fore-finger. " Guess I'm obliged to yeou 7" added tho Agent moving off. " Think yeou said ?orf- tish ?" " Yes !" replied Timothy. " Looks like a Loti 'loner, I guess 7" added the Agent. " Yes, I think lie does come from London." The Agent wedged his way through the crowd natil he stood in close proximity with Mr. Sorftish, when he stopped and threw his keen eye over him for a second, and then, giving a sudden start, made a rush up to him, and thrusting out his hand exclaimed, " Hoow d'ye dew, Mr. Sorftish 7 Guess I'm tarnal glad t' see yeou 1" Mr. Sorftish looked puzzled, and replied that — ^— he wasn't aware— a — that — a — " 'Spect yeou've f rgotten me," interposed the Agent, keeping his keen eye riretted to the other's countenance. " Calc'Iate ten years since saw yeou in London. My name's Slicker. Sh' say, I knew your father pretty well." " Dear me — a — is it possible — a ?" said Mr. Sorftish. " How strange — a— you should know me— a I" " Reckon I'd know yeou anywhere. Coun- tedance like yeourii aint easily frgotten, sh' say. Hope they're all well at 'ome 7" said Mr. Slicker. " A — ^yea — a—thank you, quite well," replied Mr. Sorftish. « Shouldn't be s'prised things are altered a bit since I was In London. Guess they're al- tered with me. Calc'Iate got a first-rate 'point- ment under Canadian Gcv'ment. Agent for all the Crown Lands— aint much ml.itake 'bout that, b'liere. Shouldn't wonder if got some of the foinest lots to dispose of in the whole Pro- vince — tarnal cheap tew — gospel that is I" Mr. SorftiHli was in a small degree surprised and delighted. This was the very party that he had desired in his heart to full in with. And to think that he should turn up in the shape of an old acquaintance of the family I It was a stroke of fortune to which his most san- guine hopes had not dared to aspire ; and the future straightway opened, and spread, and expanded before iiim, until he beheld himself gradually dilate into a wealthy millionaire,p08- scssing his thousands of acres of the teaming soil of the land of his adoption. While Mr. Sorftish and his friend Slickerwere thu8engagcd,Mr.PlumIey had been watchingthe boat that had conveyed Blackbonrn to the shore. It had scarcely been absent fifteen minutes when he again saw it coming rapidly towards them, and Blackbourn sitting in the stern, ap- parently hurrying the men on. As he came Alongside, Plumley thought he looked unusual- ly excited, and evinced considerable anxiety to regain the vessel. He leaped on board the moment the boat reached the steps, and hurried away into the saloon. Both Growfey and Bolton, who were looking after the luggage and satisfying the Customs' Officers, started at his sudden re-appearance, and exchanged looks of mutual understand- ing as he called them aside. He whispered a few hurried words in their ear, and then moved away again to the berth in which Matilda and Alice were engaged in making preparations for going ashore. He scarcely remained with them a moment, when he sought out the Captain, and, after remaining in conversation withjhim a few seconds, William and one or two of the sailors were set to work, and the lug- gage was hauled out pell-mell, helter-skelter, (it had all been stowed away at the back of the saloon and in the empty berths, for better con- venience,) and lowered into the boat : and In less than five minutes after his return, every thing belonging to them was cleared out of the vessel, and the whole party stood on the deck ready to depart. Mr. Plumley had called his friend Albosh aside, and, as he conversed with him in a whisper and at a distance, his extraordinary gesticulations and the peculiar expression of his countenance, OF SIMON SEEK. 6t 1 they're al- l-rate 'point- KgcnifoT all i.itake 'bout 'get lome of whole Pro- that is I" ree surprised )r party that Ul in ^ith. n up in the 9 family t It lis most san- lire ; and the spread, and chcld himself llionaire,pos- ' the teaming 1 Slickerwere watch in gthe 1 to the shore, 'teen minutes lidly towards :he stern, ap- As he came iked unusual- )lc anxiety to )n board the I, and hurried were looking the Customs' 3-appearance, understand- lispercd a few 1 then moved Matilda and iparations for ledwith them the Captain, ion withjhim e or two of tnd the lug- lelter-skelter, le back of the )r better con- boat : and in return, every red out of the on the deck Albosh aside, a whisper and l^sticulationa countenance, showed Ibat ho was unusually troubled or ex- cited about something connected with tb^se jirococdings. Simon stood at a little distance and watched every package as it descended into tiio boat with anxious eyes and a beating lieart; andwhen little Alice — seizing an opportunity when Blackbourn was engaged in tlie saloon — came hurriedly towards him and held out her hand, his heart leaped and Jumi>od about within him, and he trembcU from head to foot. The tears stood in iter eyes ; she shook her head as she oifered her hand, but said nothing; but there was more in that sad, earnest, melancholy si- lenrc, than either of them could have found words to express. Simon followed her mecha- nically with his eyes as she descended into the boat ; he saw nothing but the departing reality of Home strange influence that was within him ; he leaned his head over the side as the boat prepared to start: her eyes were turned to- wards him. The boat moved rapidly away, and still they continued gazing on each other, in- tently and sadly, until their forms were gradu- ally dissolved in the distance, and the tears that filled their eyes had completely shut them out from each other's view. If Mr. Pluraley was excited by the prepara- tions for their departure, it would certainly be difficult to say what was the precise state of his mind when he saw, that, instead of steering for Quebec, the boat had taken the contrary di- rection, and was making the best of its way to the opposite shore. He called upon Mr. Albosh to witness this extraordinary proceeding, and shook his head, and tlung about his favorite " by Georges " by the dozen, until the boat bad entirely disappeared in the direction of Point Levi. He had scarcely recovered his surprise and settled down into se»"' is reflection, when bis attention was attracted, to another boat which had just put off from the town, and which ap- peared to be almost flying thi'ough the water towards the vessel. As it approached nearer and nearer, hi:, eyes became fixed He seized Mr. Albosh by the arm and pointed to it mecha- nically with his finger — the color left bis cheek, and he exclaimed, " Good heavens I it's him I" " What I you don't mean to say it's " " Yes, look I By George 1 Here he is 1" la unother moment the boat was alongside, and the ol.ject of their surprise had leapt on board. It was McCameron. " How d'ye do, how d'ye do, mon 1" cried Mc- Cameron, grasping Mr. Plumloy by the hand. " Muny thanks, mony thanks for your letter. Am I in time, mon?" The earnestness of his manner, and the hope that seemed to beam through his emaciated countenance, completely overpowered Mr. Plumloy, and he stood gazing on him vacantljr and shaking his bead for some seconds before ho was able to speak. A melancholy change had ]iassed over the uahappy Scotchman since wo last saw him. His countenauci was emaciated and pale ; bis robust figure had dwindled down to the mere skuleton of its former self, and an indelible ex- pression of grief bad settled upon Lis manly and good-natured features. He wore a long, close coat, that, notwithstanding the beat of the weather, was buttoned close to the chin ; and the outline of the leathern case which he had placed there six months before, was still visible against his breast, and every now and then, as ho watched the other's agitation, his hand wandered feverishly to the F^pot and rest- ed on the iostrument of death that nestled be- neath it. *' They— they are just gone I" stammered Mr. Plumley at length, pointing to the opposite side of the river. " Strange, very sttange, mon," said MrOa- mcron, shakini; bis head and looking anxiously about him as though he could scarcely believe that his daughter was not near him ; " I came out by the first steamer after getting your letter. I have been here ten days, and this is the first time that I have been absent from the town for an hour. Very strange, very strange. I canna understand it, mon. You say they are just gone ?" "Only jusi, sir," replied Mr. Plumley ; "I think you may ketch them." " Thank you, thank you," said McCameron, "please God I may. I have mony things to say, mon, but you must excuse me now,— excuse me, mon. I am sorely troubled. God send I may I Send letters for me to the Montreal Post Office, and I will do the same for you. You un- derstand ? You will not stay here, I know, mon. Good bye, good bye, mon. God bless you all I God bless you I" He descended again into the boat, and direct- ed her course towards the opposite shore. After he had waved his hand for the last time to- wards the vessel, it could be seen by his ges- tures to the men that he was hurrying them on faster and faster, until the boat seemed again to fly through the water ; and in a very few •4 LIFE AND ADVENTURES inlnutai he had ntohed the Point, ftnd dli«p- peared beh'nd the hllli, under corn of which, not h«ir-an-liour before, hit ehild— for whow Mke he hftd orniMd the ocean and endured » thouiaad »Konle»— bad been loet to riew, ti'iiki'.'i »' ♦Ji. 'MA CIIAPTEH XI. ,1 I . ■) ? I I ••-»' MR. KWACK'S DEBUT AND EXIT. «»^ »r,;,(tAt •'*'- / ,"'.it I *-i' .I* « As aeon m they were «t liberty to go on shore, the emif^anti lost no time in paying a ▼lilt to the f(o1den city. What the precise ■tate of their fcclhigri Knd aiplrations were, as boat-load after boat^-load drew near to this •bode of the happy-^thls monntain of mag* nifleenee, teaming, as they one and all re- rlly. bellered flrom the bottom of their hearts, with peace, plenty, and demigods— it vrnnld kave been difficult to ascertain ; but that they each and erery one entertained some peculiar, undefined hopes— some shadowy, fairy-like visloni of being met at the very thresh- old, «a It were, by certain wealth-difhning genii, and straightway borne away to the abodes of everlasting bliss — is our firm and un- ■ophistleated opinion. Mr. KwaOk found himself, for the time being, in a high and glorious position. He had un- dertaken the escort of an extensire party. In- cluding the whole of the Plumleys, Mr. Albosh, and Joe, through the golden labyrinth ; and as the boat glided across the water, and they neared the city^ the swelling emotions of his breast had well-nigh overpowered him ; and it was with soime diflleulty that be called forth his manhood against them, and succeeded in •hutting up the flood-gates of hia joy, and pre- venting the co-mlnglingof a briny tribute from his philosophic eye, with the translucent wa- ters of the St. Lawrence. " Friends," said Mr. Kwaek, rising np in the stem of the boat with all the solemnity that the occasion demanded, and unconsciously let- ting go the rudder, of which he had volunteered the guidance, " I shouldn't be surprised if a startling eluoMation is about to challenge the pertinacioufl fundaments of eur respective per* «pica«itie8. But all I have to say my friends it, don't be too eontuttMlously astonished." The advice was well-timed, for it was scarce- ly produoed, when the boat, left to run its own coarse, went eraflh ag«ifi«t the wharf, and over went the philosopher head-foremoit, splash, dash. Into the water. Now, whether .Mr. Kwaok was himself contumaciously astonished or not by this sudden and unexpected transition tram one element to another, did not appear, inas- much as the whole of his emotions, together with himself, were, for the time being, entirely extinqulshed ; but unquestionably a change of considerable import had passed over his countenance by the time it re-appeared at the surface ; and to say the least of it, his philo- sophic ardour appeared to have sustained a "damper." Now, whether this little incident was designed as an emblematical lllustratioa of what was to follow, is not, we believe, known ; but certain it Is, that on being trans- ferred to the boat In a somewhat Ignominious manner, by the collar of his coat, he looked about him on the right hand and on the left- he rubbed his eyes and looked again. Good Heavens! what had become of the golden city? tt had vanished ; and In its place he beheld one of the most ordinary places that it had ever been his fate to fbost upon. He saw nothing but the most tumble-down, dirty-looking compilation of wood and ruin that it had ever occurred to him was likely to be standing,or rather tumbling down together In any part of the world. And his mind straightway desoended from the ethereal regions wherein it had been wandering for the last few hours, and plunged all of a heap into the grosser element of matter-of-fact existence. However, this was only the wharf, and could scarcely be expected to represent the town it- self, and therefore Mr. Kwack endeavoured to instill fresh courage into his saturated spirits ; and having shaken himself and re-arranged his attire, he announced his determination of marching through the city as he was ; and col- lecting his fl:iends around him, at once led the way up the slimy, wooden steps, and planted his foot for the first time on the Canadian soil— or rather on the Canadian planks. - ^>. ., ners, OF SmON SEEK. 60 md endund ft I to tI«w, .1 .• ;. n.: (.■.*♦ remoit, ipUsh, ither Mr. Kwaok tonUhcd or not transition tram ot appear, inai- otions, together i being, entirely nably a cliange Assod over hit ippeared at th« of it, hit philo- irt flUBtainod ft s little incident tical illuitration jt, we believe, on being trani- hat ignoffliniout coat, he looked nd on the lelV— d Again. Good the golden city ? I he beheld one of it had ever been nothing but thtt ing compilation (ver occurred to rather tumbling world. And hit rom the ethereal andering for the II of a heap into >f-fact existence, rharf, and could lent the town it- endearoured to kturated spirits ; re-arranged his etermina'tion of e was ; and col- at once led the ps, and planted Canadian soil— ks. ThojT landed In the mftrket pUoe; and «• they cast tlieir eyes about them, and opened tbiir ears-— deipite the previous admonition of their leader — tlioy wore slightly >istoaiabed. They found themielrei surrounded on all ildoii by un aMortment of creation's lords, such a» their must liTely imaginations could scarcely have conjured into existence. One coUeotloni appitrcDtly limitless In point of numbers, and to bo seen everywhere, consisted of nion, wo- men, and children, with faces displaying a great deal of bone, attired in every known and unknown species of dress— bl'jo smocks, blous- es, nankeens, straw hats, wide-uwokes, and rags of every hue and shade, and In every stage of dulapldation— who were dancing and ca))er- ing about, and cutting all kindi of extraordi- nary antics to their own infinite delight, and shouting and bawling to one another in an un- known tongue— mn unintolligible jargon that Mrs. Plumley said was exactly, for all the world, like the chattering of the monkeys in Itegent's-Park Oardens ; and as to suppose that any body could ever understand a word of it, she couldn't think how people could be so stu- pid. ■ . I Mr. Kwack cast his contemplative eyes around on this remarkable assumblago, and thou, turning to his friend Albosb, nodded in silence and niyiitery. Mr. Albosh simply buttoned up his coat, and, nodding in return, said, (.• . i i " French 1" Removed from these— crouched away in cor- ners, and wandering in small dejected groups by themselves, and lolling about in all direc- tions — was another class. Thoy were almost, without exception, covered with rags— filthy ftnd miserable, with gauntand haggard face8,and with every indication about them of the extreme of poverty and distress. These were of course the remnants of the ship-loads of hopefuls, ^rom dear Old England and the Emerald Isle, that had been pouring into the city by thousands for the last few weeks, and that had not yet been forwarded to their respective destinations. The arrangement for forwarding-on the poor, helpless, penniless thousands that pour into the St. Lawrence every season, were less com- plete at that time than they are at present ; and the facilities for distributing them throughout the Province being then comparatively limited to what they now are, a great deal of distress and misery was necessarily congregated, dur- ing the emigrating season, at the two diflfereut ports at wiiich they were disembarked. But this view of the subjeot aaver for • nonent suggested it««lf to Mr. Kwaok aad his party; ftnd they had begun to cost anxious glances ftt one another ; and despair wae fast creeping over their countenanoes, when the ominous sU lenoe that bad fallen in their midst was some* what unexpectedly broken by Joe, who had been looking round purely on his own account, und appeared to be the only "wide-awake" fragment of the party. " Ui rather loiks the look o' this," said Joe, nodding approvingly on things generally, but more uspeoiaily on the cabbages and potatoes In the market, in the oontempUtion of which he hud been absorbed for the last few minutes* The whole party of twenty souis looke4 scared. ,f^ "Well," said Mr. Kwack, " if you ar« perti- naciously nun compau, why this will do fur you. but, however, let us move on, friends. This is, no doubt, the tempting to avoid them, they iuvariably went splash into the mud up to their knees on oua side, or flop into the arms of a marine-«tore of old-clothes dealer, on the other ; so that, after an hour's wandering through the lower part of the town, it was suggested by tlie female por« tion of the party, that they should then consi- Old-clothos- > "^f no defin- :>■(:. I to them piace. New importations would have % LIFE AND ADVENTURES der themselves satisfied, and return. Being so bevv.ldered by the unexpected appearance of the town, thty had of course been wandering through the omIj portion of it in which nothing whatever prepossessing was to be seen, and had over-looked the upper town altogether; and it is therefore not surprising, considering also that Quebec was not then even what it is now, that Mr. Kwack was himself thorough- ly astonished. He looked at Mr. Albosh, and Mr. Albosh looked at him ; and they shook their philosophical heads together. " Well," said Mr. Kwack, as they retraced their steps towards the wharf, " I've beared that ' distance lends enchantment to the view,' but this is certainly one of the most contuma- cious metamorphoses that ever astonished a Pagan V " There's one thing that's rather encourag- ing," said Mr. Albosh, in about the tone in which a man might be supposed to speak of the decease of an affectionate friend, " there is evi- dently room for discovery and improvement." " Well, by Janus ! now you've hit it I" cried Mr. Kwack, aa his foot slipped into a loose board aud cant the mud flying through the party. " Well, after all, I can't Bay as I'm so much disappointed," said Mr. Plumley. " I certainly don't like to see so many poor about the streets, or else what can one expect in a new country ? That's where it is, you see. I'm afraid you've been expecting too much, and that's how you've got disappointed. What do you think, Lizy?" " W'jU, Gkorge dear," replied Mrs. Plumley, who was picking her way carefully through the mud, " it's very dirty, there's no saying it's not." " Oi'm rather pleased with it, for moi part," said Joe. ■< Them turnips is perfect pictures. Oits jurst wort oi thort— a agricurltral curn- try." " Well, there's no accounting for tastes," said Mr. Kwack, " certainly. But look I Here comes our friend Sorftish. I wonder what he thinks of it." Mr. Sorftish was making his way leisurely np the markei-place, leaning on the arrr of his friend the Yankee Agent ; and Mrs. Sorftish and Philip were following in 'he rear. " Dear me — a," said Mr. dorftish, stopping and speaking in a somewhat patroiiizing tone, " and what do you think — ar— of the town — a ? Pm just — a — going to have a look — a." " Ob," replied Mr. Kwack, winking on his friends, " it has perfectly astonished the lot of us. It's like Hicks the actor, — requires to be seen to be appreciated. It's a little muddy, certainly, but otherwise it's contumaciously splendid, if you can only just appreciate the style." " Galc'late, mister, reckon yourself smart," said the Yankee Agent. " Oh dear, no ; not at all," replied Mr. Kwack, "if you're a Ganadian^-and. you look contumaciously like one — why I beg to congratulate you on your Provincial capital— specially when viewed from the distance." " Well— a," said Mr. Sorftish, " I'm just go- ing to look round — a — with my friend here, before selecting any ultimate destination — a. It's a fine counrty — a — for men of experience— a — and a small capital — a — I've no doubt — a. Good day — a — good day." " Oh, Mrs. Plumley," said Mrs. Sorftish, in s whisper, as her husband passed on, " don't it seem a dreadful place? What strange people? — and how wretched I Oh, I begin to feel so ill 1" Such being the case, Mrs. Plumley felt called upon to encourage her, and said she supposed they must hope for the best ; but the poor girl shook her head mysteriously, and wliispered in Mrs. Plumley's ear that she was sorry to say that it was constitutional. She was very sorry for poor Josiith, because he was so clever, but then he would come, and what could she do I As Mr. Plumley had decided to stay a day or two in Quebec to see what was to be dona —or rather, as Mr. Kwack said, what wasn't to be done — he took up his abode at a small boarding-house in the lower part of the town, where things were both humble and reason- able ; and Messrs. Fwack, Albosh, and Joe, by way of making up a party, quartered them- selves in the same establishment — in fact, with the two former gentlemen there were certain potent reasons why a close proximity with their friends was eminently desirable. The rest of the emigrants from the Wanderer, with the exception of the Messrs. Sorftish, were soon dispersed, hither and thither, to the four winds of heaven, and they saw them no more. Mr. Plumley at once cast about him to as- certain the chances of employment, and the best mode of procedure ; and he very soon discovered that any prospects of employment of any description at that time in Quebec, were entirely out of the question— in fact, that there OF SIMON SEEK. 61 d the lot of quires to be ittle muddy, ttumaciously ppreciate the rself smart," replied Mr. ,n— «nd. you why I beg to ;ial capital— iiatance." «' I'm just go- r friend here, estination — a. ' experience- no doubt — a. , Sorftish, in a . on, "don't it range people? egin to feel so iley felt called e supposed they the poor girl knd -whispered j,s sorry to say was very sorry so clever, but ould she do I to stay a day was to be done d, what wasn't }de at a small of the town, te and reason- ih, and Joe, by lartered them- — in fact, with •were certain iroximity with rable. the Wanderer, Sorftish, were to the four law them no out him to as- leut, and the he very soon smployment of Quebec, were "Tact, that there was no question at all about it. He saw the Government Agent (not Mr. Slicker), who was remarkably kind and attentive and obliging) and strongly advised him to make the best of hia way West with all possible despatch ; and he was just in the act of consulting his wife on the propriety of starting that very same even- ing, when Mr. Kwack rushed into the room in a high state of excitement, followed by his friend Albosh, and delivered himself to the fol- lowing effect : "Well, Plumley, the dye is cast — sink or swim, an elucidation of the mystery is now ponderating in the balance I" " Bless me I what's it all about, Mr. Kwack 7" asked Mrs. Plumley. " Why just this," returned Mj. Kwack. " For tlie last twenty-four hours I have been sedu- lously probing the national ascendency of the Canadian people, and I have discovered the great desideratum, the $eni quo non, to be ora- torical perspicacity. The people want an ad- vocate—a man of parts and rhetorical power to vindicate the cause of freedom, liberty, and inde- pendence. So I have struck the blow. I have hired a public hall capable of seating a hun- dred and fifty people. The first lecture is an- nounced for to-morrow. The posters are now being displayed upon the walls — the subject, 'National Emancipation and Universal Free- dom.' Admission, Is. 3d." Joe shook his head, and Mr. Plumley smiled. " And do you think it will succeed, Mr. Kwack?" said Mrs. Plumley. "Oh, I so hope it will, I'm sure 1" " My dear Mrs. Plumley," replied Mr. Kwack, " the country is ripe — success is inevitable." As the whole party were anxious to witness the effect of Mr. Kwack's debut in Canada, it was generally agreed that they should remain over the following evening to keep him in spi- rits, and to share in the inevitable success that awaited him. By way of preparing himself for his debut on the morrow, and quickening his oratorical powers, Mr. Kwack proposed to pay a visit to the Parliament House that evening (the Go- vernment being then located in Quebec), ad invited Mr. and Mrs. Plumley to accompany him. He had already procured tickets for five, and, as Mr. Albosh had other important en- gagements to attend to, as he said, and Miss Plumley was the victim of a severe head-ache, which she was of opinion was indigenous to the country, and would never leave her until she was finally disposed of under a Canadian sod — it was arranged that Simon and little Lizy should be of the party. Accordingly, at about seven o'clock, the whole party wended their way up Mountain Street — which Mrs. Plumley said put her very much in mind of the time she went up the Monument when a child — and presented themselves before the congre- gated wisdom of the land. , They thought, on the whole, that it was a very fine place ; and that the Speaker's eleva- tion in the midst of so much moi-al and intel- lectual worth, was particularly imposing ; but, nevertheless, they were somewhat disappointed to find the great ones, the M.P.P.s., looking so much like ordinary, every-day individuals* They were all addressed as " Honorables" ; but Mrs. Plumley declared that really, with the ex- ception of one dear -old gentleman with a snowy white head, and spectacles, she couldn't see that they were a bit better than other peo- ple. Unfortunately, the debate happened to be of a somewhat uninteresting nature, — ^being a local question about a water-right, involving a mill-dam and a water-wheel in some unknown locaIity,with some unpronouncableFrench name, in the middle of a swamp ; — the discussion on which was entirely conducted in French, with the single exception of a few words from a smart-looking individual, who rose with digni- ty, smiled benignly round upon the ladies in the gallery, and proceeded to say, that it was all very well for honorable gentlemen opposite to attempt to inundate the house with their watery eloquence — which he must say flowed like oil from the last speaker — but he was sa- tisfied that if there had not been a wheel within a wheel, they would never have heard anything of the water-wheel that was then going the round of the house. He hoped a dam-per would be put on the dam altogether, and that a shower of indignation would be thrown upon this water-wheel circumlocution, such as would open the flood-gates of justice and right — he didn't mean the water-right — and completely drown ihe wishy-washy sophistry of honorable gentlemen opposite. [Cheers and Laugh- ter.] " Well," said Mr. Kwack, " if they call that rhetorical enunciation, why we needn't wonder at the national imbecility in which the coun- try is fundamentally involved. And as for the other gibberish, why it is simply preposterous to suppose that any Christian could ever under- stand a word of it." Mr. Kwack was evidently but little impreag-r 68 LIFE AND ADVENTURES ed, and not in the smallest degree awed by the phalanx of wisdom that was before him ; and per- haps the only one of the party who was sensibly affected, and upon whom the proceedings made a lasting impression, was our little hero, Si- mon. On his way to the House he was all ab- sorbed in his love and attention to his little Lizy; but from the moment that bte entered and his eye fell upon the congregation of beauty and power by which he found himself surrounded, his feelings became gradually and entirely changed. He leaned his chin upon his hand and gazed intently upon the speakers ; and his eyes flash- ed and sparkled as he watched the importance with which they marched to and fro. As he turned from th ise to the gallery, and remarked the handsome and elegantly attired ladies that surrounded it, and noted the interest and admir- ation with which the assemblage of great ones below appeared to inspire them, strange emo- tions shot through his breast, and his heart beat as it had hardly ever beat before. His poor little Lizy seemed to fade and fade before him, despite all his efforts to prevent it ; and as his eyes wandered round and round the gal- lery, in all the beauty and elegance it con- tained, he seemed to see but one form, but one countenance: Alice was before him, behind him^ by his side — it was all Alice ; and her voice seemed still to whiser in his ear— " You don't seem like a poor boy to me 1" His heart leapt at the sound, and, as he look- ed again upon the great ones, that even the handsome ladies so much admired, a vague hope crept over him that he might one day be as great and as much admired as they ; but in his enthusiasm, there was still but one form, but one counteuHnce, but one approving look, that rose up before him, and her encouraging voice seemed to whisper to him still, " You don't seem like a poor boy to me t" " Mother," said Simon, as they returned home, " I think I should very much like to learn French. I think if I could get some books I would try to learn it myself; and then there are so many French people about that I am sure I could get them to help me." " Oh, really, do you think so, dear," said Mrs. Plumley. " Then I'm sure father will try and get the books — won't you, George dear 7" " Whatl Simy learn that language 1" said Mr.Plumley, incredulously. " Why, if I thought he could do that, why — by George I if I would- n't—why, of course I'll get them. Simy learn French 1" continued he ; " why, if he was to do that, why, I shouldn't wonder if they went and made a honorable of him right off I" " 0, George dear, only to think 1" said Mrs. Plumley. " I should like to try," said Simon, whose aspirations were doubly kindled by the last re- mark of Mr. Plumley ; and he resolved from that moment to accomplish that much at least. On arriving home, they found Mr. Albosh absorbed in the depths of two or three sheets of foolscap, and glowing with smiles and import- ance. The fact was that his emulation had been fired by the bold proceedings of his friend and companion, Mr. Kwack, that day, and he felt determined not to be behind hand ; and he had therefore commenced to put in progress certain plans of his own for at once establish- ing him in the Province as a man of import- ance, a public man, and a man of worth. " Ah, here you are 1" cried Mr. Albosh, ar- ranging his papers with mathematical preci- sion. " Well, I've been pretty busy, I may say, since you have been away. Here it is, some length you see ; scarely a bagatelle. So if you will just sit quietly round, I'll just run over the introductory epistle to see what you think of it. Here it is. " To His Excellency the Governor General, &c., &c. Sir,- I take the liberty of addressing your Excellency on this occasion, feeling assured, that as a man of science, a man of. learning, and a lover of progress, (of course that's a little palava— but it's what they like,) you will be graciously pleased (the usual form,) to condescend to take humble cognizance of the following suggestion from an unworthy but fellow laborer in the great cause of science, progress, and national advancement." Hear, hear, from Mr. Kwack. " As a man of research," continued Mr. Al- bosh, reading, " a humble votary of science, and a man, I may say, endowed by nature with some of the elements of discovery, I have been able, during my transient sojourn in this noble country, (of course you must give the country a lift, you know,) to make certain important scientific revelations, hatt, together with others of equal magnitude, which it was my good for- tune to discover in my native land, I am satis- fied are of vital importance in respect of the welfare, progress, and prosperity of Canada and the Canadian people — affecting them as they do both socially, politically, and constitution- "W( into a "you s fully someth OF SIMON SEEK. 69 tey went and I" 1" said Mrs, imon, whose y the last re- esolved from lat much at I Mr. Albosh three sheets of ts and import- emulation had 58 of his friend it day, and he hand ; and he It in progress once establish- nan of import- of worth. Mr. Albosh, ar- lematical preci- usy, I may say, Here it is, some telle. So if you ust run over the t you think of it. vernor General, iddressing your feeling assured, lan of. learning, course that's a they like,) you he usual form,) le cognizance of m an unworthy cause of science, ement." :. Dutinued Mr. Al- )tary of science, ,d by nature with very, I have been lurn in this noble give the country lertain important •ether with others was my good for- land, I am satis- n respect of the ty of Canada and g them as they ind constitution- ally. Detail here were impossible ; but if your Excellency "vill kindly condescend to grant, me an intervie\k, I shall be proud of the honor of laying the whole subject plainly and lucidly before you. And I trust your Excellency will find, when I have done so, that it is by no means a bagatelle. With your Excellency's permission, I will call to-morrow at eleven in the forenoon. I am, &c." " There," said Mr. Albosh, laying down the epistle, and glancing round upon his friends, " I flatter myself that that's touching the right nail about the head." " Well, at any rate," observed Mr. Ewack, " there's no mistake about the diction. I should say a man of your perspicacity in such matters, ought to succeed. The thing is, can you elucidate your principles ?" "Here they are— here they are!" returned Mr. Albosh, holding up three or four closely written sheets of foolscap. "And," he conti- nued, giving them an artistic slap with his left hand, to increase their rigidity, "I flatter my- self they are about the proper thing." The next morning Mr. Albosh was up by times, and sallied forth to deliver his introduc- tory letter with his own hands, that there might be no mistake. Immediately after break- fast, he commenced arranging his wardrobe and preparing for the grand event of eleven. And at precisely ten minutes to the hour, he was ready to start. On the whole, he looked extensive ; and considering the limited nature of his wardrobe, which was still confined to the original mid-summer suit in which he first made his appearance on the stage of these Ad- ventures, his general effect was something as- tonishing — a remarkable degree of perfection having been thrown into the arrangements by a red and yellow neckerchief, loaned for the occasion by his somniferous friend, Joe. Mrs.Plumley having thrown an old shoe after him to ensure his success, he departed on the expedition full of hope and scientific pride. As Mrs.Plumley was about to close the door on Mr. Albosh, she encountered the pale fea- tures of Mrs. Sorftish, who said she had just looked-in to say Good-bye. " Oh, dear, are you going away altogether, Mrs. Sorftish ?" said Mrs. Plumley. " Do come in; I'm so glad to see you." " Well, really," replied Mrs. Sorftish, falling into a chair and casting her eyes upward, " you see, Mrs. Plumley, Josiah is so wonder- fully clever that he is always falling into something. Not that I ever advised him to come to Canada, between you and me, Mrs. Plumley, — in fact, it was all his own doing. And then I am so very delicate — its constitu- tional, Mrs. Plumley— that I'm a great burden to him ; and if he wasn't so very clever, I am sure I don't know really what we should do." " But perhaps you may get stronger in this climate, Mrs. Sorftish. It is very likely you may, you know," said Vts- Plumley, encour- agingly . ' ' -t " Well, I am sure I don't know," replied Mrs. Sorftish. " Anything constitutional, you know — bodily, Mrs. Plumley, you see," and she shook her head until every ray of hope appeared to be dispelled by the process. — " Ma would have taken me home again, you ^■ see, Mrs. Plumley," she continued ; « she said she would until Josiah returned, but he would- n't hear a word. And then the money— it's very little, but it's all pa could give me, you see — a hundred and fifty pounds— and Josiah thought it would be of so much service to him, you see. It was very good of him to wish to put it to account, very good — and then he ia so clever I But it is our little all, Mrs. Plum- ley — all we have to fall back upon. Oh I if anything should happen, we should loose it I All our little dependence— oh, what would ever become of us I — in this wild country, too I Oh, there ! I'm going to cry again I" Poor silly child I She was quite right— she was going to cry again ; and it was nearly ten minutes before she was able to speak again from that simple fact. " Really, things are so strange now we have left home, Mrs. Plumley," she resumed, after partially suppressing her tears. " You don't know Mr. Slicker, do you ?" Mrs. Plumley did not. "I don't know, I'm sure," continued Mrs. Sorftish, pulling mechanically at her handker- chief^ " but he is going to do something for Jo- siah — it's very kind, I dare say — but, Mrs. Plumley, I feel so frightened lest wo should lose our little all. I wibh Josiah could get some nice, comfortable situation ; but there, I suppose he is too clever. Mrs. Plumley," con- tinued Mrs. Sorftish, lowering her voice almost to a whisper, and drawing her chair to Mrs. Plumley's side ; " I wan't to ask you a question. Don't think me foolish ; and you musn't tell any one. But do you think, Mrs. Plumley— now please don't think me cruiel — but do you think that any one would marry a poor sickly, silly girl for a little money — say a hundred pounds or so?" f* .■,--*•*• ts* .s.-7.-s»>* td LIFE AND ADVENTURES ^■. " Oh, what a strange 'quest'on I" said Mrs. Plumley, " I'm sure I can't tell. I should think they wouldn't — besides, how wicked it would be I" Mrs. Sorftish shook her head and burst again into tears. Mrs. Plumley did all she could to soothe and comfort her ; but there was a something that had evidently taken a very strong hold on her mind and made her miserable ; and all Mrs. Plumley could say or do could not erase it. Before leaving, she begged and implored Mrs. Plumley to let her know where she might be able to write to her, and was very emphatic in declaring that they were the only friends she had in the world. Mrs. Plumley, who was a good deal affected by the peculiar distress of the poor girl, pro- mised to let her have their address, and tried to send her away with all the tender consolations that she could possibly manage to store into her mind. In a few minutes after the departure of the anhappy girl, Mr. Albosh returued. "Well, what's the elucidation?" cried Mr. Kwack, who bad just come in from making his preparations for the evening. "Oh," said Mr. Albosh, throwing his papers indignantly on the table, " the fact is, he don't understand it." "What, you got an interview?" cried Mr. Kwack. " Oh, yes," returned the other, " he's modest enough in that way — never saw any one more so ; out it's very plain he knows no more about scientific research than a kangaroo I" " What did he say, then ?" asked the philoso- pher. " Say," replied Mr Albosh, throwing himself into a chair with an air of contempt for things generally. " Why, I couldn't get a say out of him. There he stood," added Mr. Albosh, pointing out an imaginary Governor with a look of iaeflfable scorn, " smiling at everything I said as if he had nothing but a parcel of worthless suavity belonging to him. And when I had finished, as if the whole thing were the merest bagatelle in the world, he quietly said he didn't exactly understand the subject. And coolly advii^ed me to get into some employment as soon as possible, and obtain a knowledge of the customs and requirements of the country. Why, what does he think ? That it takes a man a lifetime to understand a tumble-down, savage, uncultivated wilderness like this?" "Well, it's just like them I" said Mr. Kwack, " for upon my word they are most Jhiscrutably cadaverous. They are actually bo contumaciously mistified, that they don't know even the value of a simple British coin of the realm. There was I, not ten minutes ago, ex- haustiiig the whole fundaments of Johnson to prove to a fellow that a solid English sixpence wasn't sevenpence hap'any. Yes, sevenpence hap'any I that's the beauty of it I If it had been fourpf^r e hap'any, or twopence hap'any, or any dodge of that sort, one might havn understood it. 1 ui I certainly did think that sevenpence hap'r , ' w :i something too rich." " hurt oi think thurt is the difiTrence in the volur here," observed Joe. " Value 1" cried the philosopher. "Why I suppose sixpence is sixper^ce all the world over ? There's no refuting that, I believe ? The fact is, it seems all alike from top to bottom. But, however, it strikes me I'll waken up their perspicacities a bit t j-night 1" Whatever money may be, time is about the same thing in Canada as elsewhere ; and con- sequently, at al.out the period at which it is usually expected, the evening approached. Se- ven had gone down into oblivion, and eight was fast marching on its heels ; when the whole party — Joe and Miss Selina inclusiTe— were found on their way to the scene of Mr. Kwack's debut before a Canadian public. On arriving at the room, which was rather a primitive one, constructed wholly of wood, and lit up with just one pound of " dips," and an extra mould for the platform; they found three people — worthy citizens no doubt, but certain- ly by no means prepossessing — already con- gregated, and discussing in a loud tone the merits of the Emerald Isle as compared with any and every other nation as yet known. Joe shook his head, and Mr. Plumley did the same ; but, very much to their astonish- ment, this performance was scarcely accom- plished when a rush was heard at the door, and in came upwards of a dozen jocular-looking fellows and rolled into the seats all of a heap. This was encouraging ; although, to be sure the general appearance of the new arrivals was slightly the reverse. They were for the most part big, burly developments, unwashed and unshorn, and, in Joe's opinion, somewhat rough and ready — in fact, he thought ready for any- thing. With respect to their personal arrange- ments, they were evidently free-thinkers ; for se- veral of them appeared in their shirt-8leeves,one or two with their arms displa;^ed in all their na- tive innocence, without any covering whatso- Iiey are most re actually bo tjr don't knov h coin of the lutes ago, ex- if Johnson to {iish sixpence I, serenpence If it had been Eip'anj, or any e understood it sevenpence frence in the ,er, "Why I 11 the world believe? The op to bottom, aken up their ! is about the eie ; and con- at which it is reached. Se- ion, and eight 3 ; when the Da inclusiTfl— scene of Mr. public. 1 was rather a of wood, and lips," and an y found three but certain- already con- oud tone the arcd with any )wn. Plumley did lieir astonish- rcely accom- the door, and cular-looking all of a heap. , to be sure T arrivals was for the most nwashed and aewhat rough ady for any- }nal arrange- nkers ; for se- t-sleeve8,one a all their na- iring whatso- ever, and the rest in every known and unknown variety of fustian, corduroy, and fragments ; flrom various points of which, to Mrs. Plumley's utter consternation, could be seen certain shiny, round-headed substances, which looked re- markably like the foreshadowing of those harmless little cudgels which are known to be the life and glory of Hibernia's sons. Now, it was not known to Mr. Ewack that in the lower part of that world-renowned city, there exUted a select and peculiar class of cos- mopolitans — a small community to themselves, designated and known as the " Boys of Cham- plain " ; who, although perfectly harmless and inoffensive boys in their way, are the sworn champions of liberty and freedom of conscience — loving excitement, and glorying in the soul- stirring innocence of a "row." That by way of giving life and animation to the city, and af- fording a little harmless entertainment and excitement to their less jocular neighbours, they gratuitously came forward on r,ll possible occasions, public or private, great or small — but elections preferred — and enlivened the scene with an innocent but energetic display of their pugilistic, cudgelistic, and mirth-inspir- ing propensities, to the infinite delight of all parties concerned. Mr. Ewack's audience was almost exclusive- ly composed of these worthy specimens of Na- ture's own ; and by eight o'clock, they amount- ed i" ar J something like fifty souls. Precisely as the clock struck, Mr. Kwack emerged from behind a piece of perforated can- vas, through which his person had already been indistinctly visible, and moved towards the platform with all his native dignity. He stood before them, and straightway created an im- pression. It might be difficult to state pre- cisely what the nature of that impression was ; but there it was nevertheless, and all eyes be- held it. The Boys were seen to nod significantly to one another ; while several of them proceeded to flourish their hands in the air in an artistic manner, and bring them down emphatically on their respective knees. Mr. Kwack surveyed them for a moment, waved his hand to enjoin silence, threw him- self into attitude, and commenced : " Ladies and Gentlemen I Friends I Fellow Cosmopolitans I (Cheers.) Canada is a great country. (Cheers.) I may even prognosticate the categorical -yllogism, that Canada is a glorious country. (Renewed cheering.) But, gentlemen, in my unsophisticated opinion, Ire- land, (applause,) Erin, gentlemen, (much ap- plause,) is glad to be allowed to escape again into the street with their usual symmetry un- impaired. And Mr. Plumley was just on the point of running otf for assistance, when, to the astonishment and delight cf the whole party, the philosopher appeared before them, steam- ing hot, but entirely uninjured exc>jpo in his wardrobe, in which he had sustained the total loss of one coat-tail, the whole of one sleeve, a boot, and sundry other inferior articles, in- cluding his hat. " Weill" said Mr. Kwack, putting it empha- tically to the company with the assistance of his sleeveless arm, " what do you think of this for a country ?" The whole party shook their heads, and merely suggested the propriety of returning home as soon a'j possible. Mr. Kweck was perfectly rampant ; and the moment he arrived home he commenced fling- ing the whole resources of Johnson at the head 12 LIFE AN^> ADVENTURES m of everything Canadian, both unimate aud in- animate, that came within hia reach. " Well, but," said the landlord, a respecta- ble individual, who hal been in the counuy loiiK enough to learn to esteem it, and whom Mr. Kwaclc had attacked with the rest, " you tnust make allowance8,you know. It's a new country." " Eb, wlmt, what, what's that ?" cried Mr. Kwack, contemptuously. " New I new, did you say 7 Well, I don't happen to know what you call new. It may be new certainly — I'm not going to say it's not ; but all I can say is, it looks to me contumaciously like a tumble- down, rotten, unsophisticated piece of imbecil- ity I New 1" continued he, driving the sound out between his clinched t -oth ; "well that's rich. I thought, accordinpf to Johnson, that anything new was fresh, leo^'t, unworn; but if this place aint pertiniic.icualy worn out, whftt in the name of the seven .vonder? would you. wish to see it ?" "Well, but," urged the landlord, "you'll find good and bad everywhere, won't you ?" " Good and bad," replied the philosopher, "no. I am contumaciously doubtful if you've got anyth ng good in the w"'iole country." All tttii i.■ ^ .,"■ ■■f^ . ^^H . a''.: ' -J .,, * CHAPTER XII. THE PURSUIT, Although McCameron had followed so close- ly on their IwAa, he found, on reaching Point Levi, that Blackhouru'a party had already se- cured a conveyance — almost the only available one in the village — and had achieved some half-hour's start westward, with good horses and a light vehicle, although to be sure with bad roads and a heavy load. McCameron lost not a moment, but imme- diately secured the first thing he could find possessing a pair of wheels and to which a horse could be attached, and, ofiTering a reward to the driver in the event of his overtaking the narty, he started in pursuit. He had a tough little Canadian pony — which is at once saying a good deal for speed and durability— and although the vehicle was an excessively rickety affair, and the wheels appeared alto- gether unacquainted with even the first objects of their existence, and, instead of confining themselves to simple circular revolutions, flew off at every turn into a complex complication of geometrical eccentricities, — while the roads were rich in alluvial deposits even up to the axle and the knees, and rose up and sank down, and turned and twisted about in open defiance of all the laws of highways and byeways that were ever thought of ; yet, as he reflected that the party before him had the same difiSculties of road, with the additional aggravation of a heavy load, he was in great hopes of being able to overtake them before they should reach any point from which they could successfully elude him. The country in this part being pretty thickly populated, and the driver being a Frenchman, also learned in the English tongue, they were enabled to obtain information of the party of almost every one they met, and at every vil- lage they padsed through ; but McCameron was irritated entire- guat were continued and clial* to mortal nit he had And thero 9 offended lad he not Tuiited by u)i!3pered t oiit — the loveiy was if he would r moments , h'c would le mystery, 10 inaaii ; a led away ; iries ho had prosperity w through 1 scientific itions, flew plication of the roads 1 up to the sank down, m defiance eways that 3ected that difficulties .vation of a 'being able reach any jfully elude tty thickly J'renchman, , they were le party of every vil- imeron was OF SIMON SEEK. 78 ^ both surprised and distressed to find that as they advanced, so, in the opinion of their in- formants, did the length of time since the pass- ing of the pursued appear to increase ; and all agreed in the opinion that they had never seen a pair of horses, followed by a vehicle contain- ing anything like the same amount of load, da. I. through the same amount of mud in the se. i)u amount of time, as they had witnessed in thy r;V!o of the vehicle in question. y'''.i\ ^IcCameron hurried forward as fast as til. !.'.» v pairs of legs by which they were pro- pelled would carry them, and still the same information reached them from all sides ; until the night had fairly closed in, and, at about ten f^'cificis they had arrived at the village of Lot- liinore, — a place of some extent and importance tu tie St. Lawrence, and about forty miles from tho Point. Hero ho ascertained that the party haI u LIFE AND ADVENTURES i who was probably well known in the place, accompanied his solitary passenger ashore, and undertook the waking-up of the innkeeper for his accommodation ; which having been accom- plished, he returned to his vessel and steamed away for his original destination. From all that McCameron could gather from the innkeeper— whose knowledge of English was something like his guest's knowledge of French, considerably limited — it appeared pretty certain that Blackbourn and bis party had not yet arrived. Having ascertained that they could not get into the village by any route without passing the inn, he concluded to sit in the store and watch for their arrival. But this the kind-heart- ed old Frenchman resolutely over-ruled, and insisted on being allowed to perform the office of watching himself, while his guest retired to rest. McCameron was greatly fatigued, and he accepted the good offices of his host in watching for the arrival of the vehicle ; but nothing would induce him to go anywhere i)eyond the primitive but capacious sofa in the room immediately at the back ^f the store, whereon he reclined and endeavored to snatch fi little rest for his weary body and his still more weary mind. But he was too agitated and troubled to Bleep. The rattle of wheels, or the sound of his daughter's voice, or the dark form of Black- bourn, was perpetually rushing into his mind, and crowding one upon another into every mo- ment of unconciousness that came to him, until the attempt to sleep became more wearying and distressing than lying awake altogether. As the time drew near at which he expected the party to arrive, his agitation gradually increased. He paced up and down the room with a coun- tenance full of trouble; his baud wandered mechanically to the leathern case that nes- tled at his breast, and his eyes were turned upr ward, and the same expression, but something more sorrowful, that had rested on his features as he first placed it where it still remained, again flashed across them ; and then again he shook his head and paced to and fro more sorrowful than before. But hour after hour passed away — the grey light of approaching day was just stealing over the hills — the sun began to gild the horizon, and still they came not. He had begun to reflect on the probability of their having taken a different route, and had partially made-up his mind to retrace his steps eastward, and so avail himself of ,the double chance of meeting them, provided they were still coming westward, and of putting himself again on their track in the ev^nt of their having diverged into a different route ; when, to his surprise, he heard the voict of the master of the tug enquiring for him in the store. He instantly rushed out, and the other came hastly towards him, exclaiming, " Da all gone I da all gone 1" " How so— where, my good mon ?" cried Mc- Oameron. "Da were all over at te Tree Rivers 'fore I get tare, and all take te boat to Montreal, m'sieur I" "Are you perfectly sure, mon?" said Mc- Cameron. " No chance (o mistake," replied the other, " Tree gentl'mans, von laty, von leetle girl, and te servan'." " And are you sure they are gone to Mon- treal ?" said McCameron. "All to Montreal. And I come express to tell you." " Mony thanks, mony thanks,.mon," cried Mc- Cameron, something overcome by this generous and disinterested kindness. " Shall he go to Montreal, m'sieur ?" asked the other without the least apparent conscious- ness of having done anything out of the com- mon order of things. "Yes, I must, I must, mon," replied McCam- eron, suddenly starting from an abstracted mood. " Can ye tell me how I may get there ?" " Sal have vary much plasir take ova tare in te tug," replied the other. "Am to go to Montreal. Have te vessel tc tow down to Quebec." McCameron thanked him over and over again, and immediately accepted his offer ; and in a few minutes more he was again steaming up the St. Lawrence on his way to Mon- treal. It was past noon when they arrived at their destination; and McCameron lost not a mo- ment in pursuing his enquiries. He found the last boat from Quebec lying at the wharf, and from the steward he learned that such a party as that described by the Frenchman, and which he had no doubt was that of which he was in 3ursuit, had gone on board at Three Rivers, and )iad landed in Montreal some five or six hburs before hio arrival. Beyond this, after interro- gating cabmen and policemen, and spending two or three hours in making a tour of nearly all the hotels in the city — he was able to ob- tain no clue whatever to their whereabouts, or they were ng himself heir haying hen, to his aster of the le instantly tly towards V cried Mc- ivers 'fore I Montreal, ?" said Mc- 1 the other, leetle girl, one to Mon- ) express to Q," cried Mc- his generous eur ?" asked t conscious- of the com- ied McOam- abstracted get there ?" lice ova tare Am to go to w down to and over 3 offer ; and in steaming to Mon- fcC at their not a mo- found the wharf, and uch a party and which h he was in Rivers, and ir six htours "ter interro- d spending at of nearly able to ob- :eabouts, or to ascertain whether they were still remaining in the city or not. Weary, desponding, and exhausted with dis- appointment and fatigue, he was moving slow- ly and dejectedly through Notre Dame Street — the tears gushing into his eyes as he looked round on the strange world in which be found himself, and thought of the feelings of his child, BO far away from all that she loved and that loved her, and at the mercy of a ruthless villian without any hope of escape : ho was surround- ed by strangers — they knew not the nature of his grief, and as he limped slowly along, the tears rolled freely down his cheeki^, and he prayed in silence for his child, and tli > he might once more be permitted to clasp her in his arms ; when, as he was crossing the Place d'Armes, his eye suddenly fell upon an indivi- dual who was moving hurriedly before him. Ho thought, to be sure ho recognized him. He quickened his pace, and in another moment his hand wai laid upon the other's shoulder. The man turned with a start, and, when he saw who it was that was before him, the colour left his cheek, and he stamped his foot savagelv on the ground with chagrin. It was Bolton. "Why, Mr. McCameron, I never hoped to meet you here," he said. " You fly from place to place like a ghost." " My daughter, sir — my daughter 1" replied McCameron. " I have left my home — I have wardered everywhere — I have crossed the sea — I have destroyed my health seeking her — you canna tell what I feel for my daughter, sir. You will surely assist me now. What motive can you have for injuring her — for keeping her in misery — the worst of misery, sir ? You will surely tell me where I may find her ?" Bolton, who appeared considerably excited and kop* ;^ntinually casting his eyes fever- ishly about him, shook his head, and, after struggling with his emotions for some mo- ments, replied with some hesitation, " You are too late, sir. They are gone." McCameron looked at him earnestly, and endeavoured to read in the expression of his countenance the truth or untruth of the state- ment; but he could ake notliing of his agit- ation and the frequent glances he cast about him, further than a fear of meeting with some one whom he was anxious to avoid. " Can I trust you, Mr. Bolton, — is it so ?" he said at length. "You may probably have little reason to credit what / tell you," replied Bolton ; " but I can tell you no more — they are gone 1" " You have accompanied them thus far," laid McCameron : " may I ask you why you are now behind ?" " On business." " You will not refuse to tell mo their desti nation ?" "You cannot find them," returned Bolton, stamping again upon the ground and becominc; violently agitated. " I don't wish to send you on a wild-goose chase — I know you cannot find them." "Will you tell me where 7" pursued McCa- meron. " To Kingston, then, if you will know," said tl ^ other. " I am sorry for your daughter, sir, very sorry, and this meeting maddens me. Good day, sir." " Stay," said McCameron, detaining him. " My daughter — how is she ?" " She is well," replied Bolton. " It were useless to say she is happy." "Thonkyou, thonk you," returned McCa- meron. " I may trust you ? They are really gone to Kingston ?" " I have told you that you cannot overtake them," replied Bolton, moving away ; " but they have taken the boat to Kingston. Again good day, sir." McCameron hurried away down to the wharf to see if he could learn anything which might corroborate this statement ; but be could only learn that a boat had left that morning — the description of the passengers being unknown to any one that he could Imd. There was ano- ther boat leaving in the evening, and he resolv- ed, if all his exertions failed to discover them in the city by the time the boat left, that he would trust to Bolton's fidelity and take passage to Kingston ; but he had serious misgivings nevertheless, and his mind was gra- dually becoming bewildered with the compli- cation of distresses that were crowding around him. As Bolton turned away into McGill Street, he was almost immediately overtaken by Wil- liam, who, unseen by McCameron, had been following at a little distance. " Why, by Jove I isn't that poor McCamer- on 7" cried William, in some surprise. " You're right," replied Bolton. " Poor fel- low ! I don't know what to do about it. That devil is driving me mad I I have got to serve him by instinct ; and, somehow or other, I do it against every feeling to the contrary." " Well, it's a strange business," returned Wil- liam. " I begin to think the end is fast com- u LIFE AND ADVENTUREH I ing. He's talking uf going to live in tlie wooila. And Juat fancy his talcing those two dolicato littlo creatures into a howling wihiernosa like that. Why this is bad unougli for such as them ; but Heaven knows what the woods must be I WeH, there's no harm sliall comu to uitliur of thtm, if I can help it. Will you go ?" •' Qo," replied tiio other, stopping and look- ing savagely on his companion ; " I've sworn to see his corpse ; and I'll never leave him, go where ho will, until I do. I Iwvo an idea that If we go into the woods together, we Hlmli ne- ver come out alive. It is wliac I have been waiting for. There will be no want of oppor- tunity. By Heaven, William," said Holton, grinding his teeth together and striking his palm with his clinched fist, " I'll kill him I" William made no reply, and they both walk- ed on in silence after this until tliey stopped at a private boarding-house in the upper part of the town. William went round to the side door, and Bolton entered at the front. He went directly to a private sitting-room on the first floor, where ho found Blackbourn alone. " Well," said Blackbourn, "any letters?" "None." replied Bolton. "But there is something else : McCameron is iu tlie town." " Ah, have you seen him ?" " He caught mc by tlio arm as I was leaving the Post Office." " What did you tell him ?" " Oh, put him on the wrong scent. He is going after you to Kingston." "Humph I that is right," replied Blackbourn. " We shall be away before he can return. I am going into the back country for a time, Bolton, Growloy will go ; and as to the rest, th.. j all do as they like — with the exception of Alice —she must go ; and — and — well you will all follow — there is no need to make exceptions : I don't require to ask any of you. I know your answer. It is not sarprising that the devil's magnet should attract the devil's progeny ; but when Heaven's angels follow in the same train — good God I it puzzles us 1" Matilda entered at this moment, followed by Alice, and put a stop to his remarks. They were both looking very pale and sad. " Are there any letters, Mr. Bolton?" said Matilda, casting an anxious glance towards him. " None, I am sorry to say, Mrs Blaokbourn," replied Bolton. Matilda looked at Alice and shook her head, but made no further remark. A calm resigna- tion had settled on her countenance, and, al- though her check was hueless, there was some- tliing more of beauty iu that quiet, melancholy sadness, than all the brilliancy of mirth, and oven happiness, could possibly have imparted to her mild and ]ilacid features. " Matilda," said Uiackbourn, " you must pre- pare to leave this. Wo shall be travelling again probably to-morrow or the next day." " Oh, Blackbourn," said Matilda, imploringly, " not into the woods ?" "Wiiy, wiiat do you fear, child?" replied Blackbourn. " You will not be the first of your position tliat has done so. There is noth- ing to fear, child 1" " No ; but it's so terrible to be shut out from all the world," replied Matilda. " Must wo in- deed go?" " We must. I tell you there is nothing to fear," returned Blackbourn. Matilda said no more ; but the tears stood in her eyes as she quitted the room — for the thought of leaving the world around her for a remote wilderness, a dismal forest, away from everything that isho had been accustomed to regard as belonging" to the world — brought back to her the recollections of her home ; and all that was dear *to her on earth, seemed to vanisli for ever with tlie dark, uninhabited wilds that rose up before her, a terrible picture — at the very mention of the Canadian forest, which bad so long been associated in her mind with ail that was terrible, and savage, and inhos- pitable. I 1 it, followed by imarki. They 1 sad. Uulton?" Bald lance towards » Blaokbourn," ihoolc her head, I calm rcslgna- lance, and, al- hcre was some- iot, melancholy of mirth, and have Imparted " you must pre- be travelling le next day." la, imploringly, child?" replied bo the first of There is noth- )o shut out from " Must wo In- is nothing to tears stood room — for the round her for a rest, away from accustomed to rorld — brought her homo ; and rth, seemed to nhabited wilds )le picture — at n forest, which her mind with OP SIMON SEEK. 11 gei and inhos- t^'.^ s :-«i.. .^■f CHAITEII XUI. .V r THE ARRIVAL OP THE REST. Tnn day after Mr. Kwack's untimely dis- comflturo, the whole Plumlcy party bid along and last (at least they had no desire that such should not lio the cnsv) farewell to Quebec, and took the steamer, or rather got the steamer to take them, to Montreal. Mr. Albosh would fain have remained be- hind for the purpose of carrying out his new project, which was a comprehensive plan for clearing the forest lands by steam and magic, and by which ho calculated that at least a thousand acres might be swept through in the course of a single day — provided, of course, that the macl.inery were sufficiently extensive and powerful ; bnt as a somewhat partial estimate of tho cost had shown that the undertaking involved an outlay of not less than ten thousand pounds at tho out- set, and that it moreover required tho im- mediate co-operation of the Government in or- der to carry it out at all, it was thought advis- able, however sound the scheme might bo in itself, to allow it to stand over for a week or two, and in the meantime to see what prospects for men of research were held out by the city and citizens of Montreal. The weather being fine, and the travelling medium scarce on all sides, tho party content- ed themselves with deck acoommodation, with one exception— an exception which undoubtedly should bo dulv noted, although, at tho same time, we would approach it with delicacy. It happened that Miss Plumley had not yet recovered from her attack of " Canadian head- ache," as she insisted on calling it ; and it fur- ther happened that tho affectionate Joe had duly observed that melancholy fact. And the feelings of the afiBicted spinster may perhaps be imagined (although we doubt it) when he presented himself before her — not, it is true, without some slight embarrassment — and mag- nanimously tendered for her acceptance a ticket for the cabin, stateroom included ; and farther announced his intention, in order that she might not bo cast among strangers without a protector, of assuming the dignity of first-class cabin passenger for himself. Let us not attempt to unvail the sacred emo- tions that played around tho heart of the sensl- tlvo spinster as thu noble generosity was made manifest ; sufQco it to say that she graciously and gratefully accepted it at his hands, and al- lowed herself to be straightway led away to the cushioned sanctum, leaning timidly on his stal- wart arm. It should perhaps bo further men- tioned, as supplying an interesting subject to the spirit of enquiry, that tho welcome sound of tho supper-bell had scarcely died away upon tho ear, when Joe was seen conducting the fair object of his solicitude through and in the midst of tho jostling crowds, with a grace and gallantry that no one had hitherto imputed to him. What all this might portend. Is for the pre- sent hidden iif the inscrutable darkness of the future ; and we presume not to attempt to raise tlin cu-tain, until, in its own good time, itshall unveil itself. Mr. Kwack had been so much engrossed in other matters during his short stay in Quebec, that lie had never found time to make a survey of any of the boats then lying at tho wharf. And it wad with some astonishment that, with Mr. Albosh on his arm, he made a tour of the boat in which he had already begun to fly through the water at a rate that he had never before associated with anything but rifle-balls and te- legrams. The superbly elegant saloons, richly deco- rated in white and gold, and furnished in n.^tyle that he had never before seen anywhere but through tho plate-glass windows of fkst-clas3 upholsterers in the V/^est End of London ; the handsome chandeliers and girandoles, and rich- ly stained glass windows ; the endless conve- niences and comforts for any one and every one that existed everywhere ; and above all the mag- nitude and power of the engines, — all struck him as being something, as he said, inscrutably incomprehensible, as compared with his already established opinion of Canadian resources. At any rate he was obliged to allow, as he certain- ly did with a magnanimity that did him credit, that, in comparison with those dirty, smoky, paintless, un Christian-like conveyances that creep about on the back of Old Father Thames, ^8 LIFE AND ADVENTUllKS I H they wor« perfect floating caitlon, and mlj^htdo credit to the groatcit country in the world. " £gad I" said Mr. Kwack, ai they returned from their survey, " I don't happen to know whether theBO Oanadiuns aru a parcel of contu- macious geese and fond of the water ; hut this completely flagellates coclt-Kghting. If they would only arrogate to the oHtensihility o( ter- ra flrna a little of tUli homogeneous display, why it striltes nie that tiiat sacridotnl imhicili- ty that seems to jiorvadc the whole fundiiiucn- tality of the country, would receive a nicta- morpbosis. Contumaciously astonishing, isn't It?" "Well, yes ; it's rather first-rate," repliod Mr. Albosh, who had just concentrated his atten- tion on the machinery about the engine. " Rut •till it occurs to me — yes, to be sure ; let mo •ee. I've got an idea. The very tiling. I wonder where the captain is to bo found ?" Mr. Albosh at once hurried away, idea and all, and sought out the captain. He found him in his little loolc-out box, absorbed iu a laby- rinth of paper and a cigar. " Beg pardon," said Mr. Alboih, stepping in and closing the door carefully behind liim; " but you are the captain, I believe ?" The gentleman in question removed his cigar and inclined his head. " Oh, well, if you are not too busy, I just wanted a word," continued Mr. Albosh. " Not at all. Take a seat," replied the cap- tain, re-installing his cigar and composing himself for the interview. " Well," pursued Mr. Albosh, " the fact is, I am a bit of a man of science ; and I want just to ask you if you thought the proprietors of this line of boats would be inclined to enter- tain a. suggestion for improving the speed, and ecoiiomiziug expense in their boats, by a small outlay — in fact, a mere bagatelle?" " Undoubtedly," said the captain, screwing his mouth into sundry inelegant contortions, with the ostensible view of giving the accumul- ated smoke a free passage outward, although it appeared to have a more direct communi- cation with his risible faculties. " Oh, you think so?" added Mr. Albosh, evi- dently delighted with the prospect that began to open up before him. " Then, without en- croaching on your valuable time, I will just throw out this one simple suggestion for your consideration, as a part of that which I shall im- mediately make it my business to lay before the Company. Don't you think then, if the bottom of your vessel was constructed in that form," (placing his hands something in the form of^>.' old-fiishloned washing tray,) "and you had your paddle-whooN placed Just so," (giving his hand a slap on one side,) " and the engine placed on a gentle elevation here," (touching the palm of Ills right liand delicately with his forefinger,) " and, in fact, the whole thing altered from first to last HO as to throw the weight more on the stern, and keep the vessel free of the water, that there would he a material difference in the speed, and, in fact, in the general working of the vessel?" At this point the captain, who, as the other proceeded had been twisting his countenance into all kinds of contortions, seemed to be sud- denly, altliough secretly, called away on some peculiar duty ; for without making any reply, he jumped up from his scat, rushed precipitate- ly from the box, and, to the other's astonish- ment, immediately disappeared with his body bent almost double, and his whole system ap- parently trembling witli emotion, but whether pleasurable or not did not appear, since his back was alone visible. Mr. Albosh waited a little time where ho was ; but as the captain didn't re-appear, he returned to his friends, a little puzzled it is true at tlie strange reception his suggestions had met with; but, however, it jever occurred to him for a moment to abscribo it to any pecu- liarity in the suggestions themselves — in fact, nothing could ever have inspired him with the belief that there was any such property con- nected with them. While Joe was enjoying himself at the sup- per table, with his fair companion by his side, he encountered almost directly opposite him, three countenances, with the lineaments of which it occurred to him he ought to be perfect- ly familiar. They were accompanied by a fourth, on which it had been his happiness to gaze at least on one previous occasion. These interesting objects were respectively the pro- perties of the Sorftishes, and of the Yankee Agent, Mr. Slicker. Joe having passed and received a private telegram, implying recogni- tion, across the table, was favored, on return- ing to the saloon, with the most polite and special attentions from Mr. Slicker, who lost no time in procuring a formal introduction from his fast friend Mr. Sorftish the elder. " Sh' say, mister, yeou're looking to get a neat little farm-lot, slick off leike ?" said Mr. Slicker, after the usual formalities set down in the social code had been duly gone through. " Wurl, oi durn know," replied Joe, fixing I OF 8IM0N REEK. 70 the form of ^'.' I you had your ivlng his hand ;lno placed on nR thn palm of lis forefinger,) nltorod from uight more on ) of the water, itt'eroncu in tlie ral working of ), as the other 18 countenance med to bo sud- away on some ing any reply, icd procipitate- :her'8 adtonlsh- with hid body lolo system ap- 1, but whether pear, since his time where ho re-appear, he izzlod it is true uggestions had ir occurred to it to any pecu- olvos — in fact, id him with the property con- lelf at the sup- in by his side, opposite him, lineaments of t to bo porfect- ipanied by a happiness to asioD. These vely the pro- f the Yankee g passed and lying recogni- )d, on return- ost polite and ker, who lost introduction ;he elder, iking to get a ike ?" said Mr. Ds set down in )ne through, ed Joe, fixing hii eyp(i on the lent which MlM Plumley had JuMt vacated. " Oi may in the cuurie orf a lit- tle time ; but oi wiirnt to get a little know- ledge orf the wayH like orf the courntry." " Ualu'latp you're a farming man, friend 7" said Mr. Hllcker. " Vers, oi'm a farmer, it'i true," returned Joe. " Kurt things is alwny the land." "Spleicemel" said Mr. Lecute dealing the table a counter-blow with his pocket-book, " if there wont bo a splurge then. I 'spect you aint going to let a splendacious lot like that slide to a Britisher, if I'll give you half a dollar rise on the acre deown ?" Mr. Slicker's ardour received another shock ; and he put it to his friend Sorftish in another confidential nod, if he (Lecute) wasn't a " hard case." Mr. Lecute proceeded confidently to count out his notes upon the table. Mr. Slicker beheld this proceedinff with a certain amonnt of horror ; and he cast a look at Mr. Sorftish that seemed to beg, to implore him not to allow hie future prospects to be blasted — nip- ped in the very blid so to speak, for the sake of a paltry half-dollar per acre. " How much is it, Slicker?" asked M.rLecute. "Well it was to be a pound an acre for the hundred acres, I guess," replied Slicker. " That's about the thing," said Mr. Lecute laying down a parcel of notes, "four bnndred and fifty dollars — that's one peound UjW and six, b'lieve. Now, Slicker, spose you hand over." "Stay — a — I think — a — I'll give the extra half-dollar — a," stammered Mr. Sorftish. " You will ?" cried Mr. Slicker. " Then by Jove the land's yours. Lecute, I guess I'm a man of my word. The land's his, and you'll SPC he'll have it tew." Mr. Slicker was right. In less than an hour from the utterance of that prophetic remark, Mr. Sorftish had paid into his (Mr. Slicker's) hand the stipulated sum of four hundred and fifty dollars, and had received in return the title- deeds of the contested lot. The change that was almost immediately effected in the manner of Mr. Lecute was re- markable. The very moment he saw the money paid-in to the hand of his friend Slicker, ho became magnanimously reconciled to his loss ; in fact Mr. Sorftish was somewhat surprised at the good-natured and exemplary manner in which he sustained the defeat, as well as the fast friendship that he expressed for .himself, who had been his only antagonist in a matter which only a few minutes before had appeared to be the very darling of his heart. Neither did it seem to sunder the friendship existing bet- ween himself (Lecute) and Mr. Slicker, but old friend— a only little lot rate ; so if he :'late he'll get • te dealing the ;ket-book, " if I 'spect you lot like that u half a dollar nother shook ; sh in another wasn't a " hard confidently to 3. Mr. Slicker ertain amount it Mr. Sorftish re him not to I blasted — nip- for the sake of cedM.rLecute. n acre for the Slicker. lid Mr. Lecute "four hundred )und Uiw and ose you hand tve the extra 5orftish. "Then by I guess I'm a is, and you'll than an hour pbetic remark, Mr. Slicker's) hundred and eturn the title- immediately ecute was rq- aw the money d Slicker, ho 3d to his loss ; it surprised at ry manner in IS well as the 1 for .himself, t in a matter had appeared t. Neither did oxigting bet- . Slicker, but OF SIMON SEEK. 8» rather to cement it closer and yet closer still ; for they straightway agreed on every other point, and even moved about together wherever they went, as one man. They were evidently philosophers — but whether natural or unna- tural Mr. Sorftish had yet to learn. Being anxious to see the nature and extent of his possessions as speedily as possible, Mr. Sorftiah received his instructions from Jlr. Slicker, together with the planr und landmarks whereby to find them, and, tuning Philip with him, started off the same day. Mrs. Sorftish wasleft behind, verymuch against her inclination. She had infactentreated hcrhus- band to take her with him, or to leave Philip be- hind with her ; but to both entreaties ho was alike deaf ; and she was left olone, a sirangjr among strangers — and such strangers as were neces- sarily both repugnant to her feelings and a con- stant terror to her pm-i ' : for being fresh from the seclusion and reserve of, English society, even tiie civilities of the class of persons to be found at a third or fou."th class hotel in Cauadii, were the source of the greatest distress and uneasiness to her in every i)0ssible way ; and the state of her mind during the whole time her husband was absent was in the highest de- gree pitiable. — But it was only the beginning of the end. The land of which Mr. Sorftish had become the proprietor was situate in the county of Prescott, in the Ottawa District, and somewhere about ten miles inland from the chief town, L'Orignal, — which at that time consisted of about twenty or thirty wooden shanties, and lodged about a hundred souls. His instructions were to take boat up the Ottawa to L'Orignal, whence he was to proceed by land direct to the spot. The sail, or rather the steaming up the sixty railes of the Ottawa to L'Orignal was, as tar ns the wild magnificence of the forest scenery was concerned, everything that the heart of man could desire, and very mucliraoro than his imagination would ever be able to picture to liimself without tlie assistance of the original. Arrived at L'Orignal — which was accomplished towards the evening — they land- ed ; and it at once occurred to tliPiU that it was certainly a pretty original place — at any rate that it was decidedly primitive. And when they looked around on the dark interminable forest that stretched away on e\ery side — be- hind and before and away up the banks of the Ottawa ns far as the eye could reach, they began to feci somewhat aw^d by the solemn loneliness of their situation, and to wonder whatever could have been the original object of L'Ori- gnal's existence, so far removed from tl.e great world, and hid away in an impenetrable region of wood, water, and solitude. As their destination lay inland, and the road thither, being entirely through the forest, was none of the best — as tliey were informs d by the landlord of the inn ; and their ideas of travel- ing through a forest being immediately and only associated with the zoological collection in Regent's Park, loose, hungry, and imiuiriial ; they decided to remain in L'Orignul over night, and to start for the scene of their future prosperity in the morning early. Tliey accord- ingly made arrangements for the veliicle to be in readiness u.t an early hour ; partook of a light supper of pork and eggs ; and having assured themselves, through the medium of the landlord, that the croaking of the bullfrogs in the neighbouring pools and marshes was not the production of wild beasts apprjoach- ing from the distance, they retired to rest — not without some slight misgivings, but ne- vertheless feeling comparatively secure. In the morning, after a repetition of the pork and eggs, they startedagainupon their journey in a vehicle which was certainly remarkable for anything but elegence and ease — which Mr. Sorftish ventured to hint to the driver as they jolted over the wood and mud and complication of difliculties that constituted the road. " Never sct te better," said the driver, who was a Frenchman. This was essentially true, inasmuch as, hav- ing been born and educated and developed to his present state of perfection in the woods, and never having been out of them, his obser- vation had been limited, in the matter of con- veyances, to the peculiar and unpretending ftyle of the one of which he w*s tlien the master. Now, to say that Mr. Sorftish was perfectly at ease, eitlier in mind or body, as he Jolted through this portion of the world, would be to convey anytliing but a correct idea of his ac- tual mental and physical condition. His mind, to tell the truth, was beginning to get a little uneasy. There was a certain formid- able character about this style of country that he had scarcely bargained for when he put down his one pound two and sixpence per acre. He was certainly prepared to rough it, and to turn his hand to anytliing ; but there a;)pufucd to him to he a so»icl as excited thun ted for tl\em s they cnme ern the faces ho they are ? here !" said they passed ladies — and m — he's nod- hey all pass- notice of the ccupied with th t!;e coa- lat sun'ound- tlint .oomed e like a dark ers watched lie darkness, They saw ppear — a'vay ts of fabled antic around viow ; the u — and they gentleness, luxury and ■ bore away OF SIMON SEEK. fi¥' in their train, could find congenial to their gentle souls in so wild and rude and melan- choly a wilderness. Yea I Oh Alice I Oh Matilda 1 we too wonder what ye shall find congenial in your new and terrible home ; and what sorrows are in store for you in that stern, untrodden path of forest life I The good angels of your strange and trackless destiny be your guardians through the days of trial that are before you ; and may they bring you at legist to that happy, quiet home whence a f 'range fatality has torn von I Another hour's drive through a somewhat variable country, in which the forest assumed a variety of appearances, indicating a swar py, sandy, clayey, and rocky soil alternately; and they arrived at their destination on the banks of the Petite Nation. It was a small, solitary clearing, with three small, solitary shanties looking out upon the river and the woods on its opposite banks, on the one side ; and hemraed- in by the low, shaggy, irregular forest, which usually indicates a wet unprofitable soil, on the other. Altogether it was perhaps one of the most desolate and melancholy looking spots that has yet been revealed to human ken ; and Mr. Sorf- tish hung down his head and ground his teeth in silent disgust as the dismal revelation open- ed before him. On making enquiries at one of the shan- ties, (the owner of which was an Irishman, who seemed to have settled in the woods with all the kind and good and generous qualities peculiar to his race, and to have 1'^ft behind him the grosser matter,) they ascertained that the lot referred to in the deed was situate about half a mile lower down the river. The good-natured Irishman offered to row them down in his boat ; but like the people of L'Orignal, he shook his head when asked about the nature of tile land, and seemed afraid to approach the subiect. As they descended the river, they found that the land got lower and lower, until it stretched away in a broad marshy plain which was almost entirely overflowed by the river. After about half an hour's row, their guide, availing himself of a point where the land was unusually low and the watc sufficiently dc^p to curry the boat, tu-ned out of the river's course and pad- dled away irto the land. It was now plainly visible that he was becoming uneasy. He row- ed about for some considerable time wittiout any apparent object, dodging in and out of the cedars and hemiocks with which the swampy country for miles round was studded ; and at length he stopped, and, casting an anxious look at the driver, who had accompanied them, re- quested Mr. Sorftish to read the description again. When he had done so, he said some- what impatiently, " Well, now — where is it?" The Irishman dropped his paddles, fumbled about with his hands, looked the very picture itself of distress, but seemed totally unable to speak. " Why, what's all this about 7" cried Sorftish, letting loose his passion. " Where is it — that's all we want to know?" " Fa — fa — faith," stammered the poor fellow, "and I'm 'fraid it's rowing over it we are I" " What I" cried Sorftish, springing to hia feet and nearly capsizing the boat; "you mean to say I've paid above a hundred pounds sterling for this confounded swamp?" " Faith and you've been swindled, sir," said the Irishman. '' I vos 'fraid of dat," said the Frenchman shrugging his shoulders, and looking conaically round on the jirospect. Mr. Sorftish thrust the deed into his pwcket, and, throwing a savage glance upon things generally, sunk down in the bent, and request- ed the trembling Irishman to row them back again as soon as he pleased ; and with a few violent imprecations on the Yankee Agent and his " cute " friend, and ... second batch against the country geneni'y and its multifarious contents, he settled down into a sullen, stoical silence, which he iiniviteruptedly maintained until he again presented himself before his anxious wife in Montreal. "Oil, Josiah," cried Mrs. Sorftish running to meet liim as he entered the room, " I am so glad " " Well, that'll do," he said interrupting her and [lushing her from him. " There's nothing to be glad for. We're ruined. That swindling Yankee has ruined us. So I suppose you'll be very glad to hear that." His wife looked at him in silence for some moments, and then burst into tears. Philip went towards her and would have said some- thing, but a savage look from his brother pre- vented him. "Well, I thought that wouldn't please you," said Josiah, with reckless unconcern. " I tell you what, this won't do for me. I have had enough of it. I have done it for the best, and it has failed ; and I am not going to stand any I reproaches from you." " Oh, I'm not reproaching you, Josiah," sob- bed Ilia wife. *' Oh, alntjtjtl," returned Jo8lah,who was evl- dcutlj boiling with chagrin at hia own igno- rance and credulity, but lacked the mural courage to own it. " Tlieu all I can say is, I am not going to 3tand it— and that you will find before very long." So saying he bounced out of the room, and reimred to the bar ; where ho remained smoking and drinking the best part of the night. Dut notwlthstond?ng this, the next morning, much to hia wife's surprise ho was up and out by day break. They awaited breakfast for him, but ho did not return. The dinner hour came, and still bo was absent ; and as both Mrs. Sorftiali and Phillip began to feel alarmed at an absence so unusual, tley went up stairs together to see if they could find any solution of the niyslcry in his room ; when to their utter astonishment, they found that two carpet-bag3 were missing, and that almost every valuable they had pos- sessed WB9 gone, with the exception of ten English sovereigns which were left in a small casli-box wrapped up in the following note : " As / don't intend to brook reproaches from any one, it is more than probable that you will not see mo again. I dare say you will get on quite as well wiilioi-.t me as with me — at any rate, you seem to think so. If I am successful where I am going, you may hear from me before long ; if not, I dare say you would just as soon not. In that case, you had better go home as soon as possible. — You have a homo to go to — I have none. Good bye, JosiAu SonvTiaii." They were both completely thunderstruck as this extraordinary conduct became apparent ; and Mrs. Sorftish, without waiting for bonnet or shawl, and deai)ile all thairhilip could say or do to detain her, rushed out of the house and fled for consolation direct to Mrs. Plumley, before whom she presently arrived in a most pitiable state of distress and dishabille. CHAPTER XV. PROSPECTS FOR ALL. Mrs. SonFTiSH found her friend a good deal downcast with her own troubles aud disap- pointments ; for Jlr. Plumlcy '. A not, up to that tim«, been able to find any oniployuient whatsoever, and they were beginning them- selves seriously to wonder whatever would be douc, seeing that nothing whatever was to be got to do. But she nevertheless sympaijiizcd with her in her distress, and expressed a^i the complete surprises, and utter astonishments, and perfect bewilderments thai were due to such a melancholy occasion ; and she was just on the poiut of saying, that really if anything at all had turned up — if it had only been the merest thing, by which tbcy could have kept even a roof over their hoads, she was sure they would have been very happy to have done Muythiiig in their power to assist her until Mr. Sorftish returned, which she felt sure in her own mind he would do before very long ; — when ilr. Tlumley came rushing into llie room — snatched up his little daugiitor ia Iiis arms, kissed and deposited her on the table — made a similar assault upon bis wife, and wound up the performance with a terpsichorean feat. " W'.iy, George dear, what has happened ?" asked his wife. "All right, girl— by George, it's all right!" replied Mr. Plumley, lUopping short on per- ceiving for the firs^ time the distressed appear- ance of Mrs. Sorftish. " I beg your pardon, Mrs. Sorftisli; but one en n't help being a bit ele- vated like wlien a tiling like this comes nt the very last moment, so to speak. Why, the fact is, Lizy, I've been and got some work ; and wliat's more, I expect us it's perminent for the wliole summer — if something else don't turn out of it for the winter, wliich tlio gentleman I'm going on for says lie'U do his best to make it. It's not in my line, but there tliat's nothing — as Mr. Sorftish used to siiy, wemust do anything that comes to hand, and be very glad that wc ' can turn our hand to it. It's to work down upon the wharf; and '''s a dollar and a half a day, Lizy girl — so that is as much as I could got at home at the best of times." 't in a small ring note : roadies from tlmtyoii will 1 will get on me — at any m Bueccssful oni me before just as Boon ■ go liome ns 10 to go to — 30B»T18H." iderstnick as le apiuircnt ; J for bonnet ip could siiy jf the liouso Irs. riumley, il in n most ibillc. 1 wound np Dan feat, happened ?" all right!" lort on per- sed ajipear- our pardon, ngabitele- omcs nt the , the fact is, and what's tlie whole rn out of it ,n I'm going ,ke it. It's iug — as Mr. ytliin£ thai hat we ' can lawn upon half a da J, lould get at " Oh, how providential 1" crieil Mrs. Plumley. " There, I was 3ure,Qoorge dear,that something woulil turn >ip. Now didn't I say so?" " Say so I" said Mr. Plumley ; " but I toll you, Lizy, seriously," ho added lowering his voice and changing into a more serious mood, " if it hadn't been for you — for the downrigiit en- couraging way in wliicli you spoko tills very morning before I went out, it's my firm belief as I shouldn't ha' come home with the news as I have at the present moment; for I'm certain eatidficd I shouldn't lia' had the heart to ha' gone about a fiftieth part as I did — that's wliat I'm certain of." " Oh, George, I'm sure that aint right," said Mrs. Plumley, whose eyes nevertheless sparkled very prettily as her husband spoke, "because you are always so very persevering you know." "Ay,that's only what she says, Mrs. Sorftish," saicl Mr. Plumley; "but if 1 am, it's all her own doing. Why, but you don't look well, Mrs. Sorftisii. I hope there's nothing amiss. IIow's Mr. Sorftish 7" Mrs. Sorftish shook her head and burst into tears. " Oh, George dear," said Mrs. Plumley, "it's very wrong of us to be so pleased. Poor Mrs. Sorftisii has got such a trouble. You wouldn't believe it — oh! it's so dreadful! But Mr. Sorftish has been and gone away and left her. And tlie poor dear creature is left without any- thing ; and no one but young Jlr. Sorftish to take care of her. Oh, isn't it dreadful!" Mr. Plumley stood in the centre of the room with his mouth wide open, and his eyes fixed upon his wife in a state of senii-stupeficatlon. " Well; to be sure," he said at length, " that's what I never thought of Mr. Sorftish. By George, I never thought that of Mr. Sorftish. But he can't be gone away altogether — that's impossible — there's no man could do it. Has he gone for long tlien, Mrs. Sorftish ?" Mrs. Sorftish again shook her head, and hand- ed him the note. Mr. Plumley drew a chair to the table, spread tlio piece of paper carefully out before him, and proceeded to read it with a succession of mysterious nods, wliich seemed to increase in volume with the addition of every sentence. " Well, but this don't seem natural .'" he said, appealing to his wife Sm- a confirmation of the sentiment, as soon u: he had finished. " Mr. Sorftish isn't likely lo do a thing of this sort in a kind of a joke like, is he ma'am 7" " Oh ! no, no, no. He i.i gone — I shall never see him any more," sobbed Mid. Sorftish. " Well, dear mo, Liiy," said Mr. Plumley, " this is beyond everything. I never would have believed that of Mr. Sorftish. A nice, re- spectable man as he seemc(\ to bo. I can't under- stand that ever a man should do a thing uf this sort — that's what I can't make out. However, let us hope there's some mistake — I seem to think there muft be." " But whatever is the poor, dear child to JOf Georgo deui 7" said Mrs. Plumley, putting the tiling emphatically to her huaband ia io many words. _.. ,- " Well, I can only say," replied Mr. Plumley, " that Pm going to take a small cottajje di- rectly, somewhere here in town — it won't be very large of course — but I'm sure if Mrs. Sorf- tish would accept of it, ond you can make any arrangements, Lizy, just to accommodate them, in a friendly manner like, just till Mr. Sorftish returns, or something can be done; why, there, I needn't say that you're free to do it, and I should be very hajipy, I'm sure. There's Mr. Philip, I'm sure I respect him as much as any one I know — that I'm sure I do." "Oh, you are very good," sobbed the poor, helpless girl. " I dare say I could get some fine needlework or embroidery, or something to do to repay you. I should be very glad to try, I am sure." " Well, you see," said Mr. Plumley, " as fur as that's concerned — anything done in a friendly way, is done in a friendly way, that's all — and there's an end of it. But there, Lizy girl, it all rests with you." Oh, Mrs. Plumley was sure that she should never forgive herself, to her dying day, if she didn't do everything in her power to help a friend in such a shocking, dreadful trouble. And Mrs. Sorftish ultimably left the house in a very much happier state of mind than she had entered in ; for she belonged to that class of fiail humanity (a very pretty, inoffensive little class in their way) whose emotions and feel- ings and soul arc all on the surface — just a few inches of Aspen leaf spread over a nerveless, insentient, soporiferous arrangement that is al- ways the immoveable same under nil influen- ces ; so that the slightest possible breeze is sufficient to shake the whole of the shakeable portion of the whole of the structure, while all the thunderings of tho hurricane could do no more. " Oh, bless me !" cried Mrs. Plumley, on looking out of the window after the departure of Mrs. Sorftish, " whatever is the matter with Tim? only look at him." 90 LIFE AND ADVENTURES In another moment Tim burst Into tlif room after the mipinor In whicli Williiim usuiilly mukcs hia appearance in lilack- P^ycd Siiaan — that U to gay, with a hop, slop anil a jump, and •undry artistic flourialics of \i\h caj), whicii iio holds in a peculiar manner l)y the crown. " Blest if I aintbeen and done it now, mum," cried Tim, as soon as his breath was aufllciunt- ly at his disposal. "I've been and got a rej;'- lar first-rate place, to attind to a gcntl'm'n's store, sir — down in St. Paul Street, sir — and whiil do you think I'm for to get ? Why a dol- ar a day I — that's smmmit, isn't it, sir ? I don't kndw 'xactly how much it be, but it sounds to mo like a reg'Iar sum. So I hope, nuim, as you'll begin to cheer up a little." " Why, you're a very fortunate fellow, Tim," cried Mr. Plumley; "that's five shillings a day." "Blest if I didn't think as it was summut of that sort," cried Tim, in greater ecstacies than ever. "Lor, who'd ha' thought that this here country was like that? Why, mum, that's— let mo see— five and five, that's ten — and five agen, that's, that's fifteen — and twice that — why, let me see, — that's jest thirty shillin's a week, mum. Well, certainly, it's ime as I be- gun to bring in something. If I aint been reg'Iar 'shamed — that's what I has, for the ];'?t — well I'm feerd to sny how long — that's ,'.'liut I am." " I tell you what, Tim," said M'-. Plu;>ilpy, "it won't do, your talking hire that there. I'm quite sure you've been a working for u,-; long enough, without any remuneration; and "i''' nothing but right, now you're able to cam a little money again, that you should keep it and put it by for a future day." Timothy's hilarity was gone. He sank down at once into a state of comparative wretchedness, as he listened to the propound- ing of this extraordinary doctrine. " I'm sure I don't know, sir," he said, turning 'his bat about in his hand aftCk' the manner of "William" discomforted, "if I've bin and giv' any 'fence, sir. I didn't mean for to do it, if I have. And I'm reg'Iar sure " " Why, my fine fellow," cried Mr. Plumley, grasping his hand, " here, none of this, by George 1 What I meant was, that it was our duty to one another like — that's the thing Tim." As Timothy's ideas of duty were somewhat li- mited, and never for a moment extended to himself, it was some considerable time before he could be made to understand that there was anything due to himself/rom himself; and It •vas only by a compromise arrangement, by which Mr. Plumley agreed to take care of all moneys that should come into his (Timothy's) possession, and do ns he thought best with it, iiat he was made to believe that he had not committed some direct and flagrant offence, ' c which Mr. Plumloy's proposal was the puni, h- mcnt to bo inflicted. A few days after this, the Plumley's estab- lished themselves in a neat little cottage in the upper part of tlio town, and commenced a per- fectly new era in tiieir existence ; in fact, so agreeable, and happy, and comfortable was the change, that Mrs. Plumley declared, that to her the whole affair presented itself in the per- fect similitude of a dream ; and that she found it iierfectly impossible to believe that she sl.ouldn't, some how or other, wiikc up all of a sudden and find herself in the three-pair back, in that terrible street situate near and rutining out of the New Cut in the Borough. Mrs. Sorftish and Philip were immediately received and welcomed as mfmbers of the fa- mily circle ; and by the direct instrumentality of the indefatigable and loquacious Timothy, who had brought his eloquence to bear on the subject with his master, in a few days after Philip obtained a situation as assistant in the same store, in St. Paul Street, and was thereby enabled to make things generally independent for Mrs. Sorftish and himself: and now that he was left to be his own guiding star, and had to trust to his own resources, his intelligence and spirit and activity gradually developed themselves, and very soon rendered him both prized and esteemed, alike by his employer and his friends. In the meantime, the movements of Messrs. Kwack and Albosh had not been without their interest — although the same ratio of success had not been awarded to their praiseworthy exertions, as had fallen to the lot of their less- gifted and more steady-plodding, every-day frends. Mr. Kwack had made several attempts to arouse the " GrifiBntown Boys," and the citi- zens generally, to a sense of their own degr dation, and the great national chaos in wJ'' tliey v/ere found wallowing, as well as to a - tonish them with his oratorical powers; but unfortunately with but an indifferent amount of success, since all parties appeared to be tolerably well contented with things as they were, and by no means astonished by any luantity of the Johnsonian phalanx that he Dsolf ; and It to cure of ftll (Timothy's) best with it, : lie had not nt offence/ v IS the puni;'h- iniley'8 cstab- cottago in the Tienced a per- e ; in fact, so nfortable was clarcd, that to elf in tlie per- tliat she found iovo tliut she ike up all of a leo-puir baclc, r and ruiining gh. B immediately bers of the fa- nstrumentality ciou3 Timothy, to bear on the I few days after issistaiit in the d was thereby ly iudepeinlent nd now that gstar, and had lis intelligence ,lly developed iered him both employer and ents of Messrs. without their itio of success praiseworthy of their less- ng, every-day •al attempts to and the citi- eir own degr chaos in wJ'' well as to a - ,1 powers; but fiferent amount .ppeared to be things as they ished by any alanx that he OF SIMON PEEK. 01 could poBsibly contrive to covcentruto before theivi ; one reason possibly boing, tluitontiie flr»f ucciHion lie had only five j)oopl'' for an audi- cn''') ; nud on tlie second, an asaenihlage of not more tliun three, inclusive of two Frenchmen, who unfortunately wore totally unuc(iuaintcd with both Johnson and his language. " Well," said Mr Kwack, on returning from this latter essay, ' and so we are to cull this a country, are we? — a i>ew country 1 Well, It may bo new certainly, for to be sure there are a few things in it that are contumaciously new to me. But if ever the inscrutable Fates hover- ed over an unmitigated bit of sterility in the shape of wood and water, why, in my opinion, this is the spot. It's something Uko the blast- ed heath of the immortal Hard — a place only fit for witches and sacri'lotal imbicilities : and it strikes mo I slinll just leave it to go its own rig. And if I do, just take care — just take care I don't renounce tiie title of Englishman alto- gether, and turn a regular contumacious Yan- kee. At any rate, there's a free country for anything wliitc, whatever it may bo for the darker shades : and that's a question L should say that would boar agitating a bit. Universal Emancipation. Well, to say the least of it, there's scope for oratorical skill. Yes ; when a man is rejected by his own untry and kin, let no one blame him if he fm ^swears his pa- trimony. It's not my doing, nimd that — don't Bay that I did it; but I believe before another week is round upon us, I shall bid farewell to the Canadian shores: and then let them retrograde to inscrutable incomprehensibility, if they like." Mr. Albosh had been equally indefatigable in his exertions, but, alas, equally unsuccessful with regard to results. lie had made disco- veries and improvements in almost every public and private scliemo afloat in the whole city ; and had either waited on or written to the prin- cipal in every instance. But owing to a certain dormant, unenterprising spirit that pervaded the whole mass, he was totally unable to ifl- spire them with anything like confidence in himself, or with a conviction of the importanceof his schemes : and ho was therefore left, at the end of a week's untiring exertion, precisely in the same position whence he started. His last resource was to write to the Mayor, pro- pounding a scheme for the total remodelling of the town, and the improvement of the streets p,nd highways (certainly a desidera- tum) ; but either the document miscarried, or the Mayor was of the opinion that in such mat- ters two heads were not bettor than one, or the scheme was somewhat too comprelicujive for the Corporation to digest ; for that auHWor, which was at once to h-vvo raised the projector to an elevation, second only to tiiat enjoyed by St. l'atrick'3 steeple in tlie same town, some how or another never arrived ; and bolh geni- uses wore reduced to^fother almost to a state of despcnitionandtiou until it assumed somethiii;^ of the cliuiucter of a compromise between ii trombone and a Jew's harj)— it lead to ua intimacy be- tween himself and the leader ; whidi led to the introduction of Mr. Kwack ; which led to an engagement between the parties; which fur- ther led to an announcement from Mr. Kwack to Mr. riumley, tho same evening, in the fol- lowing terms : " Well, Plumley, we're off— Albosh and I are off. Canada has lost us ; and let her take care — let her take care it is not for good. I feel assur- ed, Plumley, that you can feel for men reduced like us to dire necessity. We have joined them Plumley — tho Ethiopian Minstrels. Hencefor- ward we may appear before our fellow cosmo- politian brethren with blackened faces, (an ignominous degradation of the physioj,'nomy of a psychological being no doubt) ; but I trust the face may be besmeared, and the soul still retain her immaculate ascendency and shine forth re- fulgent with all her pristine puissance. Albosh, don't be discouraged. As there is but one step from the sublime to the ridiculous, so there is but one gradation from tho ridiculous to the sublime. We shall now have an opportunity of perambulating throughout the length,breadth and circumference of this mighty continent ; and while the musical, and I may say the ulfra- coroical ascendencies with which nature has endowed us, will be the means of providing us IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) k // /. % 1.0 1.1 11.25 Its 128 :^ lifi 12.0 2.5 1 1.4 l" % vl /. '^i?*' r r V y Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 (716) 872-4503 92 LIFE AND ADVENTURES with the drosa of power, we shall have an oppor- tunity of feasting our souls on the transcendent fundamentalities of a categorical elucidation. Plumlej, when yon think of us wandering through the untrodden labyrinths of this migh- ty wilderness of civilized humanity— driven by the direst vicissitudes to disguise even our pa- trimonial lineaments, — remembcrus,Plumley, as we have been ; and think that the hearts of your old and, I may say, valued friends, are still beating with the same free and friendly pulsa- tions ; while their souls have still the same wor- thy aspiration — the same unsophisticated moral ascendency, notwithstanding that the inscrut- able vicissitudes of ^ sacridotal destiny have thrown a transcient mantle of degradation over their physical fundamentalities, that are neither homogeneous nor categorical." Mr. Kwack, having concluded, dashed a tear from his eye, embraced his companion in ad- versity, and seated himself in profound si- lence. "Well," said Mr. Albosh, " as my friend has observed, although this is not the path of public duty or of private emulation that we should have chosen for ourselves — having been driven into it, in the impressive words of my friend, by the direst necessity ; yet it opens up a field for discovery, enquiry, and enterprise that can scarely be over-rated, and that can by no means came under the denomination of a bagatelle. I enter upon it with hope, with confidence in its ultimate results, and I trust, considering all the circumstances of the case, with the entire ajjprobation of my friends." The parting of the Ethiopian converts and the Plumleys, which took place on the follow- ing morning, was efiTecting in the extreme. Notwithstanding their peculiarities, there was a something about the two friends that had made them decidedly liked by the whole family at the Plumley'S; and they parted with them, not knowing that they might ever meet again, with feelings of sincere regret. But the inten- sity of the feelings of the gentlemen themselves would perhaps, by a lively and symphathetic imagination, be better (according to a popular notion) imagined than described. Mr. Kwack made a short but impressive speech — the inference being, that on this occa- sion his feelings took the place of his tongue ; saluted the whole female portion of the family with a tear standing out upon either eye ; em- braced Mr. Plumley, and even attempted the name demonstration w^ith Joe, although with indifferent success *, and then, with one despe- rate effort, rushed precipitately horn the house before his manhood became fairly and com* pletely prostrated — and was seen no more. Mr. Albosh followed in the footsteps of hia friend, and was obliged to confess, with an ocular demonstration in his philosophic eye, that with all his powers of discovery, he had been unable to find a remedy for the then over- flowing of his soul ; and to assure his friends that the then state of his feelings could find no expositor whatever in the significant term, "a bagatelle." They left ! they departed on their wandering expedition ; and were not seen again by thehr friends for many, many a long day. " Wurl, it seems that we're all to be surp6N ated loike," said Mr. Worzel, calling on the Plumleys a day or too after the departure of Messrs. Kwack ,nd Albosh. " Oi'm going away now for certain. OVve gort a place orf work on a farm, about a hurndred moiles up tlie courntry at forty poun' a year and board ; and soa Fm going to-morrow, furst thin^." " You've bought no land this time, Mr. Wor- zel, I presume ?" said Miss Plumley. " Noa, tha-at I haven't," replied Mr. Worzel, casting a strange glance at the spinster. "I was very glad to get out orf the other so easily. If that rascal hadn't run orf in such a hurry with poor Mr. Sorftish's money, I doant expect I should oither. This is only a place of work." The next morning Mr. Worzel took an affec- tionate leave of his friends and departed on his way. There was one incident connected with this departure which — while we would desire not to approach it with levity, nor to expatiate too freely on its significance — it would perhaps be a laxity of duty to pass over altogether unno- ticed. We refer to the expressions of eternal friendship — the bewildering combination of feeling and sentiment that obtained on that oc- casion between Mr. Worzel and the amiable spinster. Having, however, hinted this much, we would fain throw a shroud, or rather a veil, around the emotions, the tender aspirations, the gen- tle flutterings of that sensitive composition on that touching occasion ; and allow the soft se- crets, therein emblematically shadowed forth, to rest unruffled and unveiled in the gentle bosom that gave them birth. Suffice it to say then, that they parted, and that they met not again for many a weaiy year. OF SIMON SEEK. M the house and com* ) more, steps of hia s, Trith an iophic eye, Tj, he had 1 then over- his frionds )uld find no t term, "a Tvandering »n by their be surper^ ing on the eparture of going away je orf work lies up the board; and y» e, Mr. Wop- • Mr. Worzel, linster. " I er so easily, ch a hurry oant expect place of an afiTec- irted on his with thia desire not patiate too perhaps be ther unno- of eternal ination of »n that oc- le amiable we would il, around the gen- osition on he soft se- wed forth, he gentle e it to say y met not " Lizy," said Mrs. Plumley a week or two after they were settled in their new abode, " our prospects seem brightening on all sides ; I've got constant work for the present, and there eeems every chance of something else as soon as that's ended ; and so I think out of the little we're able to put by, as we ought to manage to give the children a little more edyercation. There's Simon, he seems regular taken to study, and I shouldn't wonder if he wasn't to make a great scholar one of these days. And then there's little Lizy — I would like to edyercate them so as they wasn't ashamed like of one another. What do you say, Lizy 7" " I'm sure,Qeorge,dear," said Mrs. Plumley "the money couldn't be better spent. Ana then how delightful it would be to make Simy a scholar I And little Lizy — she is so lady- like too— isn't she, George dear?" " And you see, Lizy," continued Mr. Plumley looking earnestly on his wife, " they aint brother and sister. And — and I'm s<:re as I never saw two children that loved each other more. I think it's our duty to edyercate them both, Lizy — that's what 1 do." " Yes — I know what you mean, George dear," replied Mrs. Plumley thoughtfully ; " but then — well it would be very delightful wouldn't it ? Oh, only to think I And no body knows what Simon may come to in this country. There seems to be so many great people vhat come act'ly from nothing. I'm sure the grocer was only telling me this very morning that the Honorable Mr. — Mr. — ^well, I forget his name,— but he's a great man now — and he used actu- ally to carry fish about on his head in this very town— only to think ! and I'm sure Siiay will never want to do that, will he, George dear ?" Mr. Plumley thought not; and both being agreed on the main motion, the children were straightway sent to the best school that their means would allow ; and Simon, whose ambi- tion had been fired in a manner and to an extent that would have insured success to a much meaner capacity, was not long before he began to distinguish himself, and to attract the notice and esteem of his master and fellows, as well as the admiration of his dearer friends. But they saw not the image, nor heard the still small voice that went before him ; nor knew they that his aspirations, his energies, and his successes were inspired and realized through the inflnence of an unseen spirit, — that the magic that excited and impelled him onward was contained in the words that were ever ringing in his ears, ' You don't seem like a poor boy to me.' All attempts on the part of Mr. Plumley to discover the whereabouts of McCameron were entirely unsuccessful ; and to the great distress of Mrs. McCameron and her daughter Clara, nothing whatever was heard of him for upwards of a month, and they had began almost to de- spair of ever again seeing him, when, to their delight and astonishment, he suddenly made his appearance among them. But he was hag- gard, emaciated, and completely incapacitated both in mind and body ; and he brought no tidings whatever of the dear object of all his trouble and anxiety. With all their care and solicitude, it was some months before he was again restored to anything like his former self; and then all his anxiety and distress at the unhappy situation of his child returned, and nothing could change his determinatiou to seek her — and to seek her until he found her, against all the perils in which his own life was involv- ed in the attempt. On learning from the younger Sorftish that he had seen the party on his way from L'Orignal, as noted in the fore- going chapter, he made an excursion into the woods, and scoured the country round — far and near for upwards of a month ; when he again returned completely enervated and prostrated, but still without any satisfactory clue to the object of his search. This he continued month after month, extending his route at every suc- cessive essay, until, after so many repeated attempts without success, he began to fear that they had quitted the country altogolher, and that his daughter was irretrievably ;ost. And thus the time is rolling away, month after month, year after year ; and while changes and counter-changes are influencing the for- tunes of all the subjects of these Adventures, we draw around them the curtain of a long obscurity ; and when we raise it again, behold a change has passed upon the image of our dream— the wizard of wizards has been at work —and, says the man of obtuse science, another planet is watching over the destinies of our sublunary puppets, and a new scroll of myste- ry is unrolled. 04 LIFE AND ADVENTURES Wl m p I h CHAPTER XVI. EVE OF THE TWENTIETH. Sbvbn summers, and aeren long, dreary winters hare passed, and it is again the time of snow. No longer the St. Lawrence rolls down her torrents to the ocean — the hoary giants from the north hare bound her in her course, and while she slumbers in their iron grasp they ' spread out their wintry mantle about her, and throughout the hundreds and hundreds of miles of her great high\» y — along the plains and through the hills, and down between the moun- tains and the rocky heights that bound her, — she is wrapped in her wintry down — a long, monotonous, melancholy shroud of snow. The land of rivers, and lakes, and forests, and boil- ing cataracts is transformed altogether into a land of snow. Snow upon the mountains, on the hills, in the valleys, and away upon, the plains and the meadows and the hedgerows, — it is all snow. Snow in the city, on the housetops, in the streets and in the highways and byeways — snow everywhere — nothing but snow. In the great forest — away for hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of weary miles, it is all snow ; now upon the tree tops, upon the wood-bound plains, upon the swamp and the river and the lake — there is nothing but snow, all snow — a great white world — a world of enow I Away in the deep forest — far away from the habitations of men — in the thickly wooded territory of the Ottawa — on the banks of the Opeongo Lake, which lay quietly slumbering before them beneath its broad white mantle of printless snow — in the dead of night, when the deep stillness that pervaded the impenetrable regions around them was broken only by the howling of a hungry wolf or the distant growl of a solitary bear, — there stood two men. By the light of the pale moon that shed its sickly light over the surrounding whiteness and into the dark depths of the forest that rose up behind them, a wild, trackless, melancholy solitude — it could be peen that a heavy gloom was on their countenances, which were swarthy and haggard and distorted, while their bodies were bent forward like men that had sustained a long fatigue. They were each covered with a loose bear-skin which was rent and torn in different places, while the rest of their clothing, with the exception of the coarse moccasins on their feet, was little better than a compilation of rags. . Each carried a rifle in his hand, and from the restless manner in which their eyes wandered about at intervals, it was evident they were not without some expectation of being called upon to use them. They had stood with their eyes turned upon the lake, ip silence, and apparently in deep reflection for some time, when one of them, laying his hand on t' other's arm and directing his attention to the upturned trunk of a tree that lay at a little distance, remarked in a low guttural tone, " William, you may see the light of day again away from this wilderness, bi^t / shall not. I want to speak a word toief ; and the larried with ito a look of i discolored iin,and weak ), unsightly ip7 contrast eceived her. loodness and ervaded her anate mem- ill, she had th the most couch con- trees, with skin for a possible to those deep- dcath-like his former band upon sign of life perceptible ind nodded who had Tellow," he rned Wil- rought in, loomed to Bolton! y one to )w pacjng of grie^. some five by some npanions, est with- , ho had wandered about, day after day, for nearly a month, supporting existence as long as he was able, on the few wild roots and berries that the forest at that time of the year afforded, un- til he had become so completely prostrated both In mind and body that he had sunk down in the snow, and would probably never have been hoard of again, had he not been discovered a few liours after by a party of Indians, to whom bo was known, and who kindly conveyed him to his friends. But his mind was already gone, and the little life that remained in hia emaciat- ed body, had been lingering on for several days ; and despite all the care and attention that his friends could bestow, he was gradually breathing out the few drops of vitality that re- mained. For the last year and more, it had been a custom with Blackbourn — who had gradually become more and more wild and unnatural in his demeanour during his sojourn in the woods -r;to wander about the forest alone, and fre- quently in fine weather, for days and days together ; when be not unoften returned in a state of partial insanity, which displayed itself in a moody, sullen, unnatural fierceness that made him a terror to every one of the unfortu- nate creatures about him. On the morning ,^ following our entrance among them, after making the usual preparation for his daily ex- cursion into the woods — contrary to his custom, since he usually moved moodily away without a look or a word to any one, and latterly not even to Alice, for whom he nevertheless appeared to entertain the same strange fondness — he stood at the door-way of the hovel, with his face turned towards the room, leaning on his rifle, and watching the movements of Alice, who was alone in the room', with an anxious and troubled countenance. He stood thus with bis eyes fixed upon her, and following her me- chanically about the room until he appeared to have become completely abstracted and totally unconscious of what he was doing. " Alice," he said at length, without removing his eyes or changing his position ; " would to Heaven, I had never brought you here. I had no intention to harm you, Alice. Do you for- give me ?" Alice raised her eyes to his in astonishment, and, after apparently struggling to speak for several seconds, she burst into tears and hur- ried her face in bcr hands. Blackbourn moved slowly to her side, and taking her hand geutly in his own, he contin- ued, " I am going into the woods, Alice. I am troubled— fearfully troubled, Alice. You for- give me 7" Alice pressed his hard hand, and made him understand, as well as sjie was able without the use of speech, that she accused him of nothing. " The forest looks very dark today, Alice," he continued. " There Is but one link between my soul and madness, ^ell them, Alice, I was poisoned when a boy. I was young — a babe, and it coursed through every vein. There was no medicine could remove it: my very soul was poisoned ; and the venom passed from me to the world in which I moved, and the good and the innocent caught the contagion with the rest : I would they had escaped ; but I had no power to control it so. You forgive me, Alice ? Good bye — good bye 1" He bent down and kissed bor forehead, and was moving away, with bis head still turned towards her, when a singular change seemed, to come over her as she raised her tearful eyea to bis haggard countenance. The color left her cheek ; she trembled violently ; her lips were tightly compressed for a moment, and starting as if with a sudden fright, she said, " Good bye !" and instantly fell back insensible into her chair. Blackbourn staggered back at the sound of her voice as though be had been shot ; but he almost instantly recovered himself, and, after watching her unconscious form for some mo- ments with a calm, sorrowful countenance, he laid his rifle on his arm, and again kissing her marble forehead, he turned and walked slowly and thoughtfully away. — Ho entered the forest, and with a slow and measured step he disap- peared among the gloomy ginnts tliat brooded over the death-like stillness of that vast soli- tude. He had scarcely disappeared when Bolton emerged from the back of the house with his rifle on bis arm and otherwise equipped for a journey into the woods. " For Heaven's sake, Bolton," said William, who had followed bim, laying bis hand on the arm of bis friend, " let it alone I Do iet it alone, Bolton 1" " I have told you, William," returned Bolton grasping the barrel of bis rifle and striking it against the snow on the ground, " the time la come. It is to day : we shall neither return. You will yet havo cause to be tliankful that this day arrived. Good bye, William. God bless you all." 08 LIFE AND ADVENTURES William grasped bin hand ; and the tears gushed into the eyes of each as they gazed on ea'^h other for the last time. Bolton laid his rifle on his arm and mored hurriedly awny to- wards the opposite angle in the clearing to that at which Blackbourn had disappeared a tew moments before. William watched him with a sorrowful countenance until he had fair- ly disappeared, when, in the (ixcess of his grief, he threw himself upon the snow and sobbed aloud. That night the occupants of that solitary dwelling watched long and anxiously for the absent ones ; but they did not return. Alice, remembering the extraordinary incidsnt of the morning, was doubly alarmed ; for although Blackbourn was the strangle being that ho was, she could not bear the thought that any harm should happen to him, and more especially while they remained in that desolate wilderness. It was long after midnight, and a solemn, un- broke silence reigned throughout the great solitude that surrounded them, wiien, as they were all sitting together around the smouldering fire on the hearth, they were sud- denly startled by a piercing cry from the adjoining room ; and they had scarcely recover- ed from the first effects of the shock, when they were doubly horror-stricken to hear the door of the room open, and to behold the ghostly figure of the dying man before them. His eyes glared with an unnatural fire, and staggering towards the opposite door, he shrieked, in a terrible, unearthly voice, " Help '. -to the forest 1 Save him I No 1" he cried starting suddenly back, " it is too late l'> and uttering a frightful scream he fell lifeless on the florr before them. The terror that seized upon the poor unhappy spectators of this frightful scene, was so intens that they sat with blanched faces, and rigid bodies gazing abstractedly on one another for several hours before they were able to move or to articulate a sound. Alice was the first to break the silence, and when she did, she spoke with a start as though it were the sudden expression of the thought that bad fixed itself upon her mind at the mo- ment of the occurrence, and that the time that had elapsed between was an unrecognized blank. " God preserve them I" she said, and saying 80 burst into tears. It was not until the day had fairly dawned, and the light of heaven shone into the chamber of death to reassure them, that they could sum- mon sufRcient fortitude to move ; and then Willinm— while his two gentler companions availed themselves of .the dawn to breath again the refreshing air of the guiltless day — removed the body into the adjoining room and spreading over it the buffalo skin, closed and fastened the door upon the unwelcome sight ; for the appre- hensive state of his mind was perhaps, if possi- ble, worse than that of his more sensitive com- panions — for he knew more. " Mrs. Blackbourn, I want to speak a word to yon seriously if you please, and you Miss Alice," said William towards the evening of that day, when it was seen that neither Black- bourn nor Bolton returned. "Well, William?' said Matilda, "we will listen." " The fact is," continued William, " I hsvB reason to know that neither of them will return. I am sorry to say I know it. I can't tell you the reason now, but I may some other time. But I assure you mu'am it is so ; and it is necessary for us to act according." "Ob, William, what has happened?" said Alice exchanging a look of alarm with Matilda. " I hope you'll excuse me. Miss," returned William ; " I really can't tell you now— I can't under any circumstances. But I will tell you all I know about it at some future time : if you will please excuse me. But what I want to press upon you is this, that we must leave this place immediate — that there aint an hour to lose or else— or else — well I'm sure, Mrs. Black- bourn and Miss Alice, you don't need me to tell you what the consequence must be. What little provision there was is nearly all gone ; and its literal impossible to find anything in the woods that would even sustain life. For I'm sure if you hadn't been so good (if you'll excuse my mentioning it) to part with almost everything to the Indians, who have certainly been very kind, we never could have lasted out so long as we have. And when I tell you that it is a positive, certain fact that neither will return here, I'm sure you will agree with me that it is the only way to leave here directly and trust to Providence to get to some place before the worst really comes. I've got a com- pass as a sort of guide, and I think I know the best way to go ; and I feel sure if we was to start with a determination, we might do it. I hope you'll think as I do, Mrs. Blackbourn and you Miss Alice : and if you'll excuse me, I would certainly advise that we start with the first dawn to-morrow so as to have all the day before us." OF SIMON SEEK. 90 and then Bompaniona reath again ^—removed id spreading 'aateiied tlie p tlie appre- ,pg, if possi- iisitiTe com- >ea1c a word d you Misi evening of ither Black- i, " wo wiU m, " I haTB I will return. : tell you the time. But I lecdssary for ened?" said trith Matilda. 18," returned Qow~ I can't will tell you time : if you t I want to ist leave this an hour to Mrs. Black- led me to tell be. What ly all gone ; anything in n life. For pd (if you'll with almost ivo certainly ve lasted out tell you that neither will ■ee with me lere directly some place re got a com- c I know the f we was to ;ht d9 it. I ckbourn and me, I would ith the first le day before There was an earnestness, and an appearance of sincerity in these remarks that almost forced the conviction of their truthfulness upon his two fair listners ; and when Alice reflected on the strange occurrence at Blackbourn's depart- ure the morning before, and also on the terrible scene of the previous night, and the forcible impression that it convoyed to her mind at the moment, she was the mire disposed to believe that whatever might be the cause, it was really as William had affirmed. But notwithstanding the many perils that surrounded them in that remote wilderness home, so AiU of terrors, it had been their home for many, many a long day, and they had heard of so many dangers and horrors connected with an uncertain jour- ney through the forest, that it was with great reluctance, and heavy hearts, and many sad forebodings, and only after a serious reflection on the utter hopelessness of escape if they re- mained where they were, that they were en- duced to follow the advice of their only remain- ing protector, and to make preparation for the journey. As the light dawned on the morrow, they emerged from their rude home — which however had shielded them ftrom many a storm, and had been a rough but a good friend against th* bitter severity of the elements ;— ihey were all equipped for the hazardous Journey as suitably aa their limited means would supply them ; and Witiiam carried the whole of the remaining provisions that their stores bad contained and that he was able to support. They moved away : they turned their anxious and tearful eyes for the last time towards their forest home— they should see it no more—a dark labyrinth of terrors lay before them, and they wondered if they should ever find another : and wondering and doubting and weeping together, they glided away into the darkness, a little trio of insignificant atoms — a precious nothingness in the midst of the myriads of giants that peopled the surface of that vast and inhospitable region. , Hi t CHAPTER XVII. A PART OP BOLTON'S PREDICTION IS FULFILLED. Following the intricacies of the forest with a dexterity acquired by long custom, Bolton pursued his way through the woody labyrinth for several hours without falling upon the track of Blackbourn ; but still from the direct course which he pursued, it was evident he was push- ing on to a specific destination. Towards noon he emerged from the woods, into a long, nar- row track of open snow, and, after following this to the northward for about an hour, he came upon the Opeongo Lake and stood upon the spot at which William and he had held their conference the night before. Taking a sweep of its banks as far as his eyes would carry him on either side, he shook his head, and seated himself with a heavy countenance on the gnarled trunk that lay behind him. He had sat there for several hours almost motionless, and with his eyes wandering at in- tervals along the distant banks, but more especially to a particular point which rose up from the opposite shore and stretched some distance into the Lake ; when a small black object, that looked in the distance like a :JU tary bird, appeared upon the margin and g' ui slowly to and fro upon its smooth white sur- face. Bolton started to his feet as this object caught his eye, and, having watched its move- ments for a few minutes, he darted off again under the cover of the forest towards the head of the lake, in the direction from wbich the point projected. Having arrived within a mile of the spot on which the object was still visi- ble, he re-entered the woods and proceeded along the inner margin until he again emerged immediftely opposite the point. Prom this position the object,which stillremained wander- ing slowly up and down, became more distinct- ly visible, and presented the outline of a man. Here Bolton again seated himself on the up- turned root if a tree, and watched the move- ments of the figure before him with a heavy countenance and a contracted brow for a considerable length of time without attempting 'V.| i .■; I 100 LIFE AND ADVENTURES to put himself in cloaer oommuuioation with it, which would hftT«b«oneMy ofaooompliilimeDt. But tbore be lat hour after hour, appareutly totally unoonaciouB of the bitter intensity of the atmoBphero ; and it waa paat night fall— and the pale moon had began to abed her aick- ly glare orer the broad white lake, before he roae and ahifted hia position. The figure had wandered to and fro in ita nlitary promenade for the last time, and bad commenced to retrace its atepa towards the woods. Bolton fell back under the cover of a hugh pine, and watched it until it bad disappeared ; when he instantly plunged into the labyrinth on its track, and inroceeded to follow it through tho windings in the darkness by the trail which it left behind it in the deep snow. As he proceeded he per- ceived that the trail became more and more Irregular, and in some places flew o£f into all kinds of intricate windings, now moving round and round in a complication of irregular circles, and then darting oif again in a straight line, and then again winding and whirling about like the evolutions of a maniac. Several times he quickened his pace and hnrried forward un- til be came almost in close contact with the utrange being whose trail ho was following ; but M often he fell back again almost terror strick- en, for he could perceive that the figure was glaring wildly and savagely about, and throw- ing hia arms frantically in the air, and striking at phanton objects with his rifle, in the manner of a confi rmed lunatic. And thus he continued, hour after hour, following through the solitary wilds, until it was long after midnight, and the moon, which had hitherto pierced the darkness here and there with its tiickly rays, began to wane. When, while following a long, straight line of unbroken foot-prints, he suddenly found himself within a few yards of the object of his pursuit. He had stopped, and stood leaning on his rifle, with his eyes glaring abstractedly in the direction from which Bolton was ap- proaching. But he nevertheless appeared not to observe him. Bolton instantly diverged a little in his course, and gliding stealthily round under the cover of the thickly set trees, placed himself in his rear. He stood watching him at a little distance for a few minutes, and then, moving noislessly towards him, he laid his band upon his shoulder. The figure started, and, uttering a wild exclamation and staggering forward a few paces, seized his rifle by the barrel and swung it round and round in the air with terrible violence. "Blackbourn," said Bolton, thrusting his hand into hia breast and clutching nervously at the piatol which waa there concealed, " yoo aee who it ia." Blackbourn dropped the butt-end of hia rifl* in the anow, and atood glaring on him in • wild abatraction, but made no reply. " Blackbourn," continued Bolton, and it could be perceived that hia voice trembled aa he spoke, " I am not here without an object Th« laat fifteen years that I have followed you about the world, have been all pointing to thia night. Your seeming lackey has not served you so well and so long, without an object. You have yet to learn who 1 am : my name is McOameroo. Where is my sitter ? Her blood has been cry- ing from a watery grave, for eighteen years, to be avenged. — Tho time is come I" Blackbourn staggered back withademoniaoal grin ns he heard this, and clutched fiercely at the barrel of his rifle. " It was a foul murder 1" cried Bolton, draw- ing the pistol from his breast. " There ia no room for parley ; let your black soul answer it. I have sworn to avenge her— she was my sister — my sister 1" HiS voice had scarcely ceased, when the re- port rang through the solitude. But his hand trembled ; he had missed his mark ; and Black- bourn stood still before him. He fell back a few paces when he saw that the shot had mis- carried, and raised the weapon again to its mark; but before his trembling finger could discharge the contents of the remaining barrel, Blackbourn sprang forward, and, swinging the rifle flercely in the air, he held it quivering over his head for an instant, and then, whirling it round with a terrific force, he brought it against the bared head of his trembling victim ; and without uttering a cry or articulating a sound, he staggered back and fell lifeless upon the great white pall, that lay rzady to receive him. Blackbourn cast his eyes down upon the bloody corpse, that looked, as it lay embedded in the pale white snow, a* gory blotch upon the blanched features of nature, and redoubled its horrors by the strange contrast ; his coun- tenance changed — he groaned fearfully, and, looking afrighted behind him, he uttered a wild, piercing cry, that woke up the solemn stillness with unearthly terrors, and rushed frantically from the spot, brandishing the blood-stained weapon in the air as though he were chasing a legion of phantoms before him. He rushed on — dashing through the labyrinth of pines and oaks, and upturned roots, and scattered branch- es, like one with a. charmed life. ng nerroailj sealed, "yoa Dd of hit rifl* I on him in • ily. D,anditoould imbled as be object Th« red jou about to this night. )d you 80 well You hare y«( McOameron. has been cry- teen yoart, to iiademoniaoal ted fiercely at Bolton, draw- '* There is no loul answer it. was my sister I when the re- But his hand k ; and Black- e fell back a shot bad mis- again to its r finger could mining barrel, , swinging the ][uiTering over whirling it ight it against victim ; and iting a sound, less upon the ,0 receive him. iwn upon the lay embedded blotch upon and redoubled ist ; his coun- fearfully, and, uttered a wild, )lemn stillness ted frantically blood-stained vcre cliasing a He rushed on li of pines and .ttered branch- OF SIMON SEEK. l«t Boar after hoar he oontinued flying before the phantoms that his stricken soul had created about him, until he suddenly burst upon along narrow, circular opening, bestrewed with fkll- en trunks and upturned roots, and branches of trees in all directions — the effect of a recent storm; and at the same instant a hedious bowling broke upon his ear, and a pack of woWes came rushing fkiriously towards him ttom the opposite side of the opening. He stood still and contemplated them, ap- parently with the utmost nnooncern, until they were elose upon him, when, throwing his arms in the air, and brandishing his rifle, be tbouted, "Offt off I" And in an instant the whole pack, as if struck with terror at the sound of bis voice, diverged in their course and rushed furiously past him, with a terrific howl, like things that were scared. The moment they were past, he uttered a demoniacal laugh, and, turning round, rushed furiously after them, yelling and yelping, and throwing about his arms in a wild, exul- tant manner, that sufficiently proclaimed the terrible change that had come over his mind. He had pursued the affrighted animals for a considerable distance, when they suddenly set np a long, low, sorrowful wail, that rang through the forest like a death-knell ; and as it reached the infuriated maniac, he stopped, clapped his hands upon his ears, and, re-echoing the cry, turned round and flew before it in the opposite direction ; and as he rushed again through the snow, and between the close trees, he turned his head and cast a terrified glance behind him at almost every moment ; and when he had gone until his supernatural strength was almost exhasted, he turned round, and, raising his hands as though he were driving a wild herd before him, cried, in a maniac scream, " Back 1 back, I say 1 Ton are all fiends I — 'Twas not I? — you told me — a little boy! — Back I back, I say I Don't hunt me down — a poor, witless child I Back 1 back I Ton wont? Gome on, then, if you will — come onl No I no, not I'm a child— a child — a little child I" He turned round, and, with another wail, rushed franctically away with his bands upon bis ears, and his eyes glaring with a terrific look behind him ; — on again through the deep snow, and over the gnarled trunks and upturn- ed roots — away through the blackness, fiercer and faster, until be stumbled and fell; and then he olatobed ftarionsly at the snow and dragged himself forward on his knees, and hit glance towards bis phantom pursuers became more fVequent and more terrific as bis progresi became more and more impeded. He scrambled again to bis feet and staggered forward a few paces ; but his strength failed him— he whirled round, and, throwing np bis bands as if to ward off a blow, and uttering a low guttural cry, be fell back insensible on the snow. After lying here for several hours, be rose again, apparently totally unaffected by the long exposure to the intense cold, but only to renew his wanderings and his ravings, and to fly anew ttom the terrors which the flre of bis own brain bad kindled. For two days and nights he continued ror- ing about ths snow-clad wilderness, without either food or sleep ; sometimes stalking along in moody silence, and apparently unconscious of even his own existence ; and at others rav- ing and tearing about in all the wild excrite- ment and agony of a phantom-hunted ma- niac. Towards the night of the third day, and while in one of his raving fits, he suddenly emerged from the woods into the small clearing in which stood the solitary shanty which had been his home. But although it had been en- tirely deserted by its former inmates, who were then far away in the depths of the forest, there was still a light gleaming through the casement. In order to account for it, and for what is to follow, it will be necessary for us to step forward some hours in advance of his arrival on the spot. It was at about three o'clock in the day that a solitary figure emerged suddenly from the southern end of the wood, and, on seeing the small, wooden shanty before him, fell instantly on his knees and clasped his hands fervently to- gether. He was a tall, slim, swarthy-looking man, wrapped in a close over-coat, with fur-cap and cape, and carried a rifle in bis hand. He walked noiselessly to the back of the dwelling and listened for sounds from within ; but hear- ing no sounds from that quarter, he moved round to the front ; and after carefully recon- noitering the windows, he cast a look of dis- appointment round the clearing and knocked at the door. Receiving no answer after several repetitions, he gently lifted the latch and entered. It was easy to perceive, from the deserted appearance and the confusion that pervaded the place, that it was tenantless, and that it had been finally 102 LIFB AND ADVENTURES ftb*ndoMd ; knd m thia oonTiotioa M«m mates, he resolved to take shelter in the rud* hut for the night ; and having kindled a fire on the hearth, he drew his pistols f^om hia breast and laid them on the table beside a small pocket-compass, which he took from the sama pocket, and, drawing forth a small Bible, which had been his only companion for many, many months that he had wandered alone through the forest, he sat down to pass the dreary, soli- tary hours in communion with Him who is pre- sent in the vast solitudes of the forest as in the peopled city. He had been so engaged but a short time, when he was startled by the sound of a man'a voice flrom without,and in an another instant the door was thrown violently open, and in rushed the poor unhappy maniac whom we left on the margin of the wood, exclaiming, " Shelter^— shelter, Alice I Hark I the whole of this great^ city is fUU of bells, bells— all bells I And, hark I there t they are Jumping into the water — and they say it is It No, not no bells I Alice. Ah," he cried, as his fiery eyes fell upon McCameron, who bad risen to his feet and stood back against the wall with a pistol grasped fimly in each hand, " another fiend — ah, ah I I know you I Another, another I" And so saying, he turned and rushed franti- cally again towards the door; but he had scarcely placed his foot upon the threshold, when he darted back and slammed the door quickly to, and clasped his bands upon bis ears, and, lowering his voice to an unhearthly whis- per, said, " Hark I they're ringing still — they want to come in here, Alice, as if I did it. They say it's their sister, Alice — sister. Well, come then, we'll all die together. No I — no shots I I'll not be assassinated — never. Ah," he cried as his eyes fell upon McCameron again, "have you a sister, too? 'Twas not I, then. So, no shots — I'll not be assassinated — never I" he continued, raising his rifle in the air and glaring demoniacally upon McCameron. McCameron stood speechless and horror- stricken at this terrible spectacle ; for he soon perceived that it was a raving maniac that OF SIMON 8EIK. lot lli«tar« to hit T jtlng H h* ;i othtr apwt- • uDwaleoB* I wu gTMtlj In th« woodi, l>»t the pUe* Its fonnar In- ir In th« rod* lindkd • fln toll ttom blf ieiid« » imkU rom the Mm* 1 Bible, which manj, m%nj lone through ) drearj, lolU m who ii pre- ireit M in tb« » ihort time, nd of a man'a ler instant the and in rushed we left on the rkl the whole Is, bells— all are jumping is 1 1 No, no! his fiery eyes sen to his feet with a pistol lother fiend— another!" rushed franti- but he had the threshold, med the door upon his ears, tearthly whis- they want to They say it's come then, shots! I'll h," he cried again, " hare I, then. So, ted — never !" 1 the air and meron. and horror- ; for he soon maniac that stood before him ; and although It was the au« thor of his own ruin and the destroyer of the happiness of his child, his Heart inroluntarily softened towards him, and he contemplated him with an eye of unmingled compassion. Blackbourn stood with his rifle raised over his head, and hii eyes flashing and darting about as though he expected to be attacked, and was waitfng for his signal to strike ; but after standing so for several minutes, he gra- dually let fliU his arm, and his eyes became flxed upon the seat that McOameron had Just vacated, and he started again, exclaiming, " Don't ask me why his seat Is empty I I tell no tales. Si$tni Indeed I No, no, Alice, don't you ftown — you have no liiten I No, no, don't drive me out ! I am cold and hungry— don't drive me out I Hark I bells, bells, bells I No, I'll not go to the bridge — I've no biisines there — not to the bridge, I say ! No, Alice, don't glare upon my hand I Stay, stay I" he cried, turning suddenly towards the door, *' don't fly f^om me, Alice — I shall go mad. My brain — my brain I Oh, Alice, save me, save me I" Thrusting out his hands Imploringly before him, he rushed out of the hovel, away across the clearing, and dashed madly into the oppo- site woods, crying and shouting out ihe n^'ine of her who would still the tumult of his intoxi- cated soul no more. McOameron instinctively followed him, and plunged into the forest upon his trail, keeping him in sight as long as he was able, and then following by the snow-track ; for the thought suddenly flashed across his mind, as he darted from the house, that he might possibly follow him to their present retreat ; which he felt sure could not be at any great distance, from the short time that appeared to have elapsed since the shanty had been deserted. For a considerable time the track continued as straight as the intricacies of the forest would permit, and he followed on with renewed hopes ; but, after a time, he found that it began to di- verge and wind about, until it ultimately wheeled into all sorts of eccentricities, and he became perfectly bewildered in attempting to follow it. And now he heard in the distance a. long, low, wailing sound, that gradually and rapidly increased, and came nearer and nearer, until it suddenly, and almost before he comprehended what it wai, burst into a bowling hnrrloanc, that uprose, as it were, by the power of a great magle, and came sweeping down through tb« solitude with an Irreslstable violence — carrying huge trees, and broken branches, and hilloous of snow befcre It in one imm^xse and over* whelming cloud, that nothing' t.ould resist ; and he had but Just time to take shelter undar • clump of gigantic pines that happened to b« by, when it swept past him in all its Airy— making the very earth tremble as It rolled along its surface. It lasted, without any apparent abatement, for upwards of an hour, when It suddenly ceased altogether, as unceremoniously as It had commenced ; and. In a wonderfully short time, it had left everything as still and calm and si« lent as before. But on en rging A-om his shelter, McOam- eron was bewildered, and even terrified, to find that the track which might have led him back to the shanty, was entirely obliterated, and that he was everywhere surrounded by an un- dulated sheet of drifted snow, bestrewed In all directions with the leafless branches and brok* en Aragments of the forest. And in addition to this, It suddenly occurred to to him, that, in his haste to follow the lunatic flrom the shanty, he had forgot ton to take up his compass ttom the table where he had placed it. And there he stood, in the midst of that vast ocean of snow and wood and wilderness, with- out a beacon, or a land-mark, or a solitary foot-print to guide him for a single step. Although for the last few years he had spent a great deal of time in the woods, he had gain- ed but little of that dexterity in following their eccentricities peculiar to the native In- dian ; and his acquaintance with their vast extent, and their unfathomable character, only served to inspire him the more forcibly with the terrors of his situation. Oppressed and utterly dejected, he seated himself upon a gnarled trunk that the storm had but just uprooted f^om the earth, and his manhood well-nigh failed him altogether, and he almost plunged Into the last depths of despair, as his mind wandered through the strange complication of distresses and misfor- tunes and disappointments that had crowded around hhn in the last eight years. ts",'??? * - 'Sii'' t '>:mS. **S^-' 1' ■ t04 LIFE AND ADVENTURES V ■•■' CHAPTER XVIII. w .?, tV:. •;w»^ ; j*«^ THE WANDERERS IN THE FOREST. y^ j-S" W •>'■ DiBBOTiNO their course to the southward, after quitting their forest home, the three wanderers trudged along, hour after hour, through the deep snow, contending resolutely against the intense cold and the severe toil, until the two weaker members of the party irere compelled to call upon William, who was tramping on before them in order to mark-out the track, to stop. '* Oh, William," cied Matilda, " we are feel- ing so fatigued and so distressed with the coldl We are almost frozen. T am afraid, William, we shall never reach any inhabited place. Don't you really think we had better re- turn?" " Well, ma'am," replied William, looking anx- iously from one to the other, " it's a sad thought to think of that, ma'am. I never would have advised leaving at all, if I had thought there was the leastest chance of living out the win- ter ; but I'm certain sure, ma'am, and you, Miss Alice, that you must see it's literal impossible. But, however, I shouldn't wonder if we aint much further from a habitation of some sort, if we go on, than what it would be to return, ma'am. I'm sure I wish I could do something to help you, ma'am, and you, Miss — I'm sure I do ; but there, it's no use — I can't. But still, I hope you'll be able to hold out a little further, ma'am, and then we'll try and find a sheltered place to rest at for a time, and I think that'll revive you, ma'am. An astonishing effect a lit- tle rest has, ma'am." " Yes, I think, William, if we could get a little rest in some warm place, it would revive U8," said Alice. " Don't you, dear ?" she add- ed, turning to Matilda. " Well, it is very horrid to think of returning too, Alice dear," replied Matilda. " I think we'll try, William." •' I'm very glad to hear you say so, ma'am," re- joined William. " I really do believe, Miss Alice, with a little perseverance we shall get out of it all. So I !iope you'll cheer up, ma'am." "But, William," said Alice, as he turned to lead the way again, " pray don't walk too fast — there's a dear man." " I hope you'll he so kind to call to me, if I do. Miss," returned William. " Matilda," said Alice, lowering her voice al- most to a whisper, when William was sufQ- ciently far to be out of hearing, " William is a very good, kind fellow ? He has been very much altered, (and so indeed have we all," dhe said, shaking her head sorrowfully,) " since he came into the woods ; but he was always very goc i to me. What a blessing it will be, Matilda, if we should get out of the woods altogether. Even though it looks so dreary now, I really hope we shall. Don't you, dear 7" " Yes, Alice, I am sure I hcie so," returned Matilda; " and hearmg you say so makes me hope the more. I think I could now die quite happy if I could only see poor dear papa and ma again, Alice." " Yes, but you musn't talk like that, Matilda — you know you musn't, dear," said Alice, coaxingly. After another hour's walking,in which they had endeavored to cheer each other with conversa- tion, they were pleased to see their guide stop, and turn off towards a gigantic oak, that stood on a rising ground a little to their right, and which he instantly pronounced to be the proper resting-place. The tree was perfectly hollow, and a comfortable room was left inside, which would have afforded ample accommodation for a party of treble their number. William removed the bear-skin which was about his shoulders, and made-up a sort of seat with it for them in one corner, and then covered them almost completely over with a huge buf- falo-skin, in which he had packed the provi- sions and made into a large bundle with a two-fold view to their comforts. These ar- rangements, with the refreshments which he very soon prepared, had a wonderful effect in reviving both their spirits and their ener- gies ; and after an hour's enjoyment of the al- most unhoped-for luxury, they announced their readiness to re-continue their journey. William was highly pleased at the success of his prescription, and they all started off again in comparatively good spirits. But it was not long before the effect of the extreme cold, and OF SIMON SEEK. 106 i'.. 'v .:^i, .Ji^ic 11 to me, if I [ her voice al- Eim was suffi- < William is a has been very e we all," dhe iy,) " since he I always very ill be, Matilda, lis altogether, now, I really so," returned nakes me hope ie quite happy papa and ma I that, Matilda " said Alice, rhich they had rith conversa- iir guide stop, ak, that stood leir right, and ) be the proper fectly hollow, inside, which imodation for in which was I a sort of seat i then covered th a huge buf- iced the provi- undle with a s. These ar- ats which he nderful effect id their ener- ent of the al- nounc^d thteir rney. the success of ted off again lut it was not )me cold, and the labor of wading through the snow, began to re-appear; and long before night-fall they were compelled to halt again. And as the night was fast (ipproaohing by the time they were again sufficiently recovered to make another essay, and as no arguments on the part of William could induce them to venture on their journey after the darkness had set in, it was thought advisable to take up their quarters where they were for the night. William collected a few armsfhll of sticks and bark, and succeeded in kindling a fire in front of the opening in the tree in which they were ensconsed, for the two-fold purpose of bringing into use a small iron kettle which formed part of his stores, and of keeping at a safe distance anything that might happen to be prowling about in the neighborhood ; and while the very sight of it inspired his frost-bitten companions with fresh animation, it was only surpassed in its beneficial effects upon their spirits, by the warm decoction of dandelion roots that succeeded it, — a beverage which they had come to regard as a luxury equal to the finest Old Mocha of civilization. The night passed in broken slumbers and troubled dreams, occasioned by the exposure to the chill night air ; and when they were aroused by William at day-break, they found it nearly impossible to rise ; and it was not until they bad partaken of the warm distillation that he had already prepared for them, that they were enabled to regain their feet or to make the smallest attempt towards locomotion. But a little determination, and a great deal of en- couragement from William, once more esta- blished them on their journey, although the pro- gress they were able to make was immeasur- ably liehind even that of the previous day. "Oh, Alice," said Matilda, after they had been stumbling on for several hours, " I begin to feel so very ill. I feel such a terrible giddi- ness in the head, Alice dear. I think it must be occasioned by sleeping out in the cold air. Oh, whatever shall we do, Alice dear ? I fear I shall not be able to accompany you much farther." " Oh, you mnsn't say so, dear," replied Alice, turning to her in alarm. "Oh, dear, I am afraid you look very unwell. Shall I call to William ?" "No, not yet, I think," said Matilda. "I will try to go a little farther. This would be a terrible place to die in, wouldn't it, Alice dec?" "Oh, pray don't talk so — there is a good dear Matilda," said Alice, imploringly. " W« have come a very Ion j way, you know ; and William says he is sure there must be peo- ple living at a very little distance off now. 80 I am sure we will be able to reach them, after coming so far. I know ' you will try — ^won't you, Matilda dear ?" " Oh yes, Alice, I'll try," replied Matilda. But her voice faltered, and she had scarcely moved forward a score paces, when she sud- denly laid her hand on Alice's arm; and on tn?£Ietely bewildered, and was perhaps, in consequence, nearly double the time that he would otherwise have been in administering to their relief. " I think, William," said Alice, after she had been seated beside her unconscious compan- ion a few minutes, « it will be better for me to keep moving about. I seem to be growing, weaker and giddier every momen* that I re- main here. I think I will try and assist you to gather the sticks." " Oh no, miss, thank you," said William, " I'm sure you can't do that. But if you think you would be better walking about, perhaps it might be as well — just while I'm getting some- thing warm." Alice rose, and William watched her as she came out into the open air. He could see that her cheek was very much blanched, and that her eyes looked vacantly about ; and he stood still and watched her with an anxious expres- sion. She staggered forward only a few paces — he saw her turn her head and cast an implor- ing look towards him — she uttered a feeble cry, and he had just time to dart forward and catch her senseless form before she fell. He carried her in and placed her by the side of her fellow- sufferer, and immediately gave way himself to a paroxysm of grief. He threw himself upon the snow and clutch- ed at it with his hands, and tore his hair, and sobbed and cried like a child. But in the midst of his grief, he suddenly bethought him- self of the better office, and he leapt upon his feet and piled-up the sticks upon the fire which he had already kindled ; and in a few minutes he had prepared a hot decoction of the dande- lion roots, and was endeavoring to administer it to his patients. But it was a hopeless task. They were perfectly unconscious, and their lips appeared to be frozen together ; and to all that he could say or do, they only replied with a short, vacant, pitiful look, that seemed to im- plore him not to disturb them. « Good Ood 1" he cried, springing to his feet and dashing the cup upon the ground, " they'll die — she'll die 1 Mercy, what can I do I Here I help I help 1" And shouting frantically in this manner, he darted out from the cover, and plunged through the snow with the recklessness and fury of a madman. For nearly an hour he continued rushing on, awaking the solitude with his cries, reallj becom- had the effect nerrouB, that iwildered, and learlj double se have been after she had ious compan- t>etter for me ;o be growing, in^ that I re- d assist 70U to William, "I'm rou think 70U t, perhaps it getting some- ed her as she 3ould see that led, and that and he stood izious expres- Y a few paces tst an implor- d a feeble crj, ard and catch He carried of her fellow- &j himself to V and ciutch- his hair, and But in the thought him- apt upon hia the fire which k few minutes >f the dande- ;o administer topeless task, find their lips nd to all that splied with a eemed to im- ig to his feet ind, " thej'U Idol Here! manner, he iged through id furj of a e continued rith his cries, ^ OF SIMON SEEK. I 107 and piercing|the forest in erery direction with his burning eyes, until he suddenly stopped, and, looking about him with a wild admir ^^■ of pleasure and surprise, exclaimed, " Oood Heavens, what's this ?" The mark of the axe, and the partially ubli- terated footsteps of a human being, became vi- sible, in a long, direct line before him ; and to his infinite delight he pereeived that he had struck upon a blazed path, and that, however distant it might be, he had discovered a direct road to a human habitation. The joy with which he was seized at this discovery, was almost as ungovernable as had been the grief which had led to it ; and it was some time before he could sufficiently collect his thoughts to decide on the best course to pursue. He hesitated for some moments as to whether he should push forward for assistance, or return. But on looking up to the sky, he perceived that heavy clouds were beginining to gather over- head, while he could feel the wind gradually increasing and the snow beginning to drift; and as the thought occurred to him, that if the wind should get up, the trail which he had left in the snow, and which was the only guide to the precious charge that lay beyond it, would soon be entirely obliterated, he turned round and plunged again into the snow-trail, with even more desperation than he had displayed in making it. Arrived again at the spot, he found that the snow was already drifting in upon the two fair dreamers ; and he lost not a moment in making preparations for his contemplated movement. They were still entirely unconscious, and he entertained no hope of again restoring them until he could convey them to a more hospita- ble shelter. He removed the buffalo, and, placing them gently on it, he adjusted the bear- skin coat firmly to his own person, and having made a small parcel of the principal necessaries contained in his travelling stores, he fastened it securely round his shoulders ; and he then stood contemplating the fair objects at his feet with a look of perplexity. But aroflsing him- self and looking out upon the gradually in- creasing weather, he slooped down and raised them carefully, one in each arm, bringing up the buffalo robe at the same time so as to form a covering. He stood irresolutely under his burden for some time, and then, shaking his head despondingly, he was compelled to replace them on the ground. It was mc.e than his enfeebled strength could sustain : and he stood over them again with a countenance full of the most poignant grief, and he pulled savagely at his hair and stamped upon the ground with his foot as he exdamed, "I can't do it— I can't do it. And they'll die ; I can see they will. Qood Heavens, what's to be done I" He came out and walked up and down befor« the opening, swinging his arms about and ex- claiming in an incoherent manner, and appeared several times on the point of rushing off again as he had done before ; but after a time he be- came more composed, a ad, removing the bear- skin again from his shoulders, he re-entered the cover and arranged it again in the corner best protected from the wind. He then replaced the sensless form of Matilda on it, and drew the buffalo robe carefully around her. He next proceeded to secure the weather-opening as well as he was able with broken branches and snow ; which being done, he planted a quantity of sticks in a peculiar manner about the spot with a piece «f rag attached here and there, to attract attention in the event of any one pass- ing the spot — for he was aware that the Indiana not unfrequently followed out of curiosity such a trail as they had made for the last two days — and they were every one of them both known and respected by all the principal Indians in the district. These arrangements completed, he re-entered the cover, and, taking a long me- lancholy look at its inmates, he raised the dearer object of his solicitude in his arms ; and with the tears in his eyes he sailed forth with his burden, and proceeded to follow the trail which he had twice trod. The wind was gradually increasing, and the further he went the more indistinct the trail became; but he hurried on faster and faster as he came towards the end, and to his infinite joy he ultimately reached it in safety. Arrived at the blazed path, he seated himself for a few moments on the trunk of a tree, and rested himself as well ab he was able with the unconscious girl still supported in his arms ; and he then pursued his journey along the blazed path with renewed hope and vigour. He walked on, exerting every nerve of his strength — for the night had already closed-in and the light of the moon was greatly obscured by the heavy clouds — for upwards of three hovrs ; when his labor was rewarded by the ap- pearance at a little distance before him of an extensive clearing, aud the more welcome to- ken of life and comfort and hospitality — a light. He almopt danced with joy, encumbered as ha ■m^". 108 LIFE AND ADVENTURES fM m WM, M this weloome light opened on him, «nd he inTolnntftrily exclamed. « Good HeaTettB, Miss Alice 1 — we're sared I" He now found himself in a main road, which ran crosswise with the path hj which he had come ; and he could distinguish through the darkness the outlines of seyeral small houses in diffiBrent directions, from each of which gleam- ed cheerfully out upon the ccl<^ white world around the welcome indication of a home. There were two small shanties close at hand in a clearing on his right, but these he instinctive- passed, for he could discern the outline of a larger tenement raised upon a gentle elevation at a little distance on the opposite side of the road. To this he immediately bent his couioo ; and on arriving in front of it, he found as he had anticipatec^ that it was a good, substantial farmer's house, standing in the midst of a clear- ing of considerable extent. He hesitated for a moment before entering the gate, fbr he felt somewhat doubtAil as to the reception his wild and destitute appearance, as wellas that of his unconscious burden, would be likely to gain for him. But it was no time for the exercise of doubts, and he thrust-open the gate, and, mount- ing the flight of wooden steps before the door, he knocked as confidently as his courage would allow him. " Is the master or mistress in?" he enquired of the small handmaid that replied to the knock. The handmaid however made no re- ply; for she no sooner caught sight of the strange object which the light in her hand re- vealed CO her, then she darted back again into the house calling aloud for " mercy." " Why, Betty girl, what's amiss ?" cried a man's voice as its owner rushed out from one of the side rooms. He was a tiAl, red-faced, well-clad, thorough- going Canadian farmer. «' I. beg your pardon, sir," said William mov- ing forward into the passage, " but might I ask for a shelter, sir, for this poor lady. I've just brought her from the woods ; and she's very ill." " Eh, what 7" said the farmer, «» the woods — a lady — ill I Here, Betty I quick, bring a light I Bless me, a lady did you say 7 You don't say sol" At the sound of her master's voice Betty in- stantly re-appeared, light and all, followed by a neat, plump, round-faced little body, who was the perfect model of a farmer's wife. " Bless me, what a sight 1" cried the farmer's wife, who had doubtless heard the last remarks of her husband, and instantly ran forward to ascertain the nature of the case. '* Oh what » lovely, lovely face I — poor thing. Do let her come in and — — " "Yes, will you bring her in here, if you please 7" interposed the farmer, leading the way into the front room. It was a capacious, well-furnished apartment, with a large wood-fire blazing away upon the earth ; and everything in it looking cheerful and comfortable, including a remarkably handsome youngmanandastillmore remarkably handsome girl of about eighteen or nineteen, who were seat- ed at the table reading together. Altogether it presented a wonderful contrast with the bleak, inhospitable wilderness which he had just quitted, and William deposited his precious burden on the sofa as directed, and fell on his knees by her side and burst fairly into tears. The young man rose from the table, and, perceiving that his fair companion was looking at him in some alarm, he took he.- afifectionate- ly by the hand and led her towards the couch. But his eyes had scarcely fallen upon the up- turned countenance of the unconscious girl, as she lay there before him with her rough protec- tor weeping by her side, when he instinctively dropped the trembling hand that he held, and, with such a sudden jerk that the girl started and uttered a faint cry, while he staggered back ezclaming, " Good Heavens I is it possible 7" and he stood gazing on her in rapt astonishment. This exclamation aroused William from his grief, and he started almost instantly to his feet, and, after looking round the room with a half-bewildered gaze, he said, ;■ ■ .X-* " I'm sure you'll be good enough to take care of her, until she recovers, if I leave her here. I'm sorry to say that I had two under my charge— bothladies ; and they were both taken ill together after toiling through the forest for two days, and I've been compelled to leave one poor dear crea- ture back nearly tsn miles in the woods. I must return and see if " " Why bless me I what do you say, sir 7" ex- claimed the farmer who had been absent from thcroom, and had just returned in time to hear the last portion of William's remarks. " A lady in the woods — now — such a night as this I Good Heavens 1 what's to be done? Who'l} go? Here, some one fetch something for — for — some beer and meat, quick I why we mustn't lose a moment. We must all bo off instantly. Bless me I poor creature I actually in the woods* Whatever will become of herl" < > , 1 forward to "Oh what ft Do let her here, if 70a iding the waj id apartment, ray upon the : cheerful and >l7 handsome }l7 handsome ho were seat- A.ltogether it ith the bleak, be had just his precious ad fell on his into tears, e table, and, 1 was looking affectionate- Is the conch, ipon the ap< cious girl, as ough protec- instinctiyely le held, and, girl started le staggered and he stood t. iam from his antlj to his room with a > take care of ir here. I'm ny charge-— Q ill together iro days, and >r dear crea- ods. I must ly, sir?" ex- absent from le tohearthe "A lady in this I Good Who'U go? — for — some ustn't lose a ntly. Bless the wpodf!. OF SIMON SEEK. 10» " Why, dear me, this is very strange," said William who had been eying the excited farmer with a look of supreme astonishment during this ebullition. "It's a long time ago, but to be sure I've seen you before, sir. Why, didn't you come here seven or eight years ago in a ship called the Wanderer 7" «' Why, yes, that's true — we did. But I am sure I don't remember you, sir," replied the farmer, eying his strange visitor from head to foot. "No, no," returned William, " I'm wonder- fully altered, I know. But might I ask your name ?" "Why, my name is Plumley," replied the farmer ; and sure enough Plumley it was. " Yes, to be sure I remember you now," cried William delighted to have found an acquaint- ance. " I dare say you'll remember me when I tell you. Tou used to know me by the name of William. I came out with the saloon passen- gers." " Why, then, by George 1" cried Mr. Plumley staggering back as though he had been shot, " why, why, why then who are these ladles ? Who's the lady you've In the woods. Good Heavens I its never poor Miss McCameron, Mrs. Blackbourn — never, never, is it 7" " Yes — yes," stammered William ; for he was bewildered by the intense excitement which the other displayed. " Why, why, why, Simon, Timothy, Lizy, quickj^very one bring — get some — here, I'll go I" exclaimed Mr. Plumley rushing out of the room. " Come, sir, let us be off. I'll go with you," said the young man, — who was of course our hero Simon— starting from the reverie into which he had fallen In the contemplation of those too-well-remembered features. His little Lizy — who "as little no more — had fallen on her knees beside the couch and was weeping over the unhappy girl. — Her tears had a two- fold theme. In a few minutes Mr. Plumley returned with );,-• '>''';?■■> !>••■ t four or five blankets and two or three buffalo robes ; and Mrs. Plumley followed him with a variety of mysteries for the fair suflbrer ; while Betty brought up the rear with a large jug of beer and a large joi .t of meat for William. But William would not tvalt to take anything but the beer, and a hunch of bread and meat which he carried in his hand to dispose of as he went along. " Will horses be of any service ?" asked Mr. Plumley. " Yes, I think they would, sir," said William, "a considerable part of the distance, at any rate." " Come along, then," said Mr. Plumley, " we'll soon have them. Are you going, Simon 7" " Yes, yes," replied Simon, loading himself with some of the buffalo robes, " I will accom- pany you." "That's a fine lad," said Mr. Plumley. " Why, bless me," he added, taking a glance at the couch as he was going out, " and so that's the poor, dear little lady, as we used to call her. Well, this is sad, sad, lad. Take care of her, Lizy, girl. Timothy is gone for the Doctor. It's some distance down into the village, Mr. Williem, but I hope he'll net be very long before he's here." Mr. Plumley led the way to the back of the premises, and the horses were very soon pro- cured — one being borrowed from a neighbour- ing farmer — and they started off to the rescue of the lost one in the wilderness, against the bleak wind, through the deep drifting snow, and pressed forward their steeds to the utter- most, for they began to fear that tha increasing wind might obliterate the trail, and thus cut them off almost hopelessly from their object. 0,what very finite mortals we are ! — ^but a few short miles lay between them,and they scamper- ed away,doubtlng, and hoping, and fearing, and praying — they thought only of the trail, and beheld not the unreal phantom they were pur- suing beyond it— that the reality, the object of all, had already flown. ■< . -i^-k. • ,■ 116 LIFE AND ADVENTURES :Ut:j;i*mii':>ai ^.i- ^M.jr.-; .1 -U -'' .i-*' •i'JV •■it CHAPTER XIX. IN WHICH MR. WORZEL RE-APPEARS AND MAKES A DECLARATION. n Both Mrs. Plumlej and her daughter watched bj the bed-side of their unconscious patient that night, and their anxiety was divided between her and the object of so many years of their concern who was then being sought-for in the depths of the inhospitable woods. Hour after hour rolled away — midnight, one, two, three, had com« and gone, and still there were no signs of their return ; and the good little far- mer's wife began to be both anxious and alarm- ed. " Oh Lizy, child," she said, in a whisper, as her anxious eyes caught sight of the first gray streak of the distant day from the well-cur- tained window of the invalid chamber, " it's certainly morning ; and they've been all night in the woods, and that poor dear, dear crea- ture, and there aint the least shadow of a sign of their coming even now. Bless me, Lizy, child, what ever can be the reason 7 Oh, only to think if they've missed her I and then if they should be lost, too I Oh, only to think, Lizy child, how dreadful 1" " Yes, but you must'nt think so, ma, dear," said Lizy. Stay I " ma, dear 1" It used to be " mudder " and "mothy," and " fathy" and " daddy," and little unpretending simplicities of that sort. Ma, dear I why, how is this, Lizy child 7 Well, well, to be sure, when we look at you again we see a wonderful change in other respects too. You are certainly no longer that weasen little atom of simplicity that used to indulge in those vernacular abbreviations. No ; there is a great change. We see plainly the direct foreshadowing of all the mysterious influences of the whole academic programme — French, music, drawing, writing, arithmetic, Berlin wool, and crochet ; together with certain seri- ous indications of toilet mysteries, through the medium of which wo have no diflSculty what- ever in arriving at the genealogy of ma, dear. But still we would just put it to you tenderly, Lizy child, whether all this is exactly — mind we say exactly, child — the thing for an embryo farmer's daughter 7 Well, well, we see how it is. You don't exactly want to be an embryo farmer's daughter. It is just possible that you might one day be an embryo gentlbman'a little wife. Very well ; you shall have it your own way, Lizy child. Any thing euphonious and affectionate ; so " ma, dear," let it be. " Yes, but you mustn't think so, ma, dear. I am sure that nothing so dreadful as that will ever happen. It is very difiBcult, I dare say, travelling through the snow ; but, oh ma, they never could lose their way— do you think they could ?" " Oh, I hopf not, Lizy child," replied Mri. Plumley, " father and Simon have often been out in the woods together for a whole day, to be sure. But don't you think, Lizy, you had better get to rest? You are looking so very pale. I will sit up with her — poor dear young lady; and besides the doctor says there's no danger, you know, Lizy child." " Thank you, ma, dear, I think I would rather remain up," replied Lizy. " I feel so anxious about Miss McCameron. And — oh look," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper and draw- ing Mrs. Plumley to the bed-side, " she is mov- ing — she is opening her eyes." Alice opened her eyes and looked eagerly round the room, and then, fixing them on her two watchful attendants, she smiled faintly- very faintly, and gradually closed them again, and fell into her former unconsciouness, al- though it now became more and more like the unconsciousness of sleep. She was fast recover- ing ; and by the time the morning had fairly dawned, the blood had again begun to circulate through her cheeks ; and when her eyes again opened the dreamy film had almost disappeared, and she seemed to contemplate the objects about her with a mingling of surprise and gra- titude. As Lizy watched her with anxious eyes, she observed her lips move, and bent down her ear to catch the sound. " Matilda," she said ; " is Matilda here ?" Lizy was fearful of disturbing her mind with the terrible fact, which became the more and more so as the time advanced, and she signified as well as she could that she should see Matilda as soon as she was well enough ; and with this assurance she gradually fell again into a calm sleep, which lasted for several hours ; and she ^? OF SIMON SEEK. Ill r ■ ■ lATIOlf. itlbman'a little '9 it your own iplioniouB and it be. 0, ma, dear. I il as that will It, I dare saj, it, oil ma, thej rou think they ," replied Mrt. ive often been a whole day, ak, Lizj, /ou ire looking so er — poor dear or says there's 1." I would rather 3el 80 anxious -oh look," she iper and draw- " she ia mov- >oked eagerly them on her liled faintly— d them again, sciouness, al- more like the B fast recover- ng had fairly in to circulate ler eyes again t disappeared, the objects prise and gra- with anxious ve, and bent da here ?" aer mind with ;he more and i she signified d see Matilda and with this 1 into a calm mrs ; and she was still slumbering on when the feeble rays of the morning sun were beaming upon her placid features, and the watchers were summoned by the small handmaid, Betty, to breakfast, which was prepared below. " Well, Lizy," said Mrs. Plumley, " she seems very comfortable, and I think we may leave her for a little time, while she's sleeping ao sound. You must be very tired too, Lizy child." " No, not very, ma," replied Lizy. " I would rather sit here until she wakes again ; and if you will send me up a cup of tea, I think I shall be quite revived. But pray don't you stay, ma, dear." " Well, if you would rather stay, do, child," aaid Mrs. Plumley, " and I will send you up a cup of tea and a slice of toast. Oh, what a blessing it is to be so kind, Lizy I I'm sure you will be rewarded one day. But I am ao anxious about father, Lizy, and poor Miss McGameron. What a dreadful time, isn't it? Where's Timothy, I wonder ?" " Here's me, mum," said Timothy, meeting his mistress on the landing, where he was feeding a large Canadian " fire-box " with wood. " Oh, Timothy," said Mrs. Plumley, " can you conceive whatever has become of your master ? He's never lost in the woods, is he, Timothy ? Do you think you had better go and see if you could find them : would that be any use 7" « Well, you see, mum," said Timothy, who was precisely the same natural curiosity in fUstian, without detriment or detraction, as when we last left him in Montreal, or when we first found him in that wild, adventurous night on London Bridge. "Well, you see, mum, there's a sort o' difficulty as makes it reg'lar hard to say what is or whnt isn't the cause of the relay. And then as to my goin' arter 'em, there's a sort of difficulty there too^not but what I hope you know, mum, that I shouldn't think much about bein' buried in the snow for the matter of a day or two, if so be as that could be of any service. But, in the first place, I don't think as master's exactly the sort to go for to lose himself in a bit of a wood, mum ; and if they aint lost, mum, why, yer see, they're likely to be home just as soon without me as with me ; and if so be as they is lost, yer see, mum, (which aint a bit likely, I can 'sure yer, mum,) why, if I was to go arter 'em and even for to find 'em, as I don't know about the woods no more than them, why, it 'pears to me that we should all be lost together then, mum, and not a bit the better for it— don't you see, mum? Not but what I'll go, mum, immediate, if ao be as you think it's desirable, mum." " No no ; never mind, Tim, we'll wait," aaid Mrs. Plumley. " la Miss Plumley down stairs, Tim?" " Miss Plumley's below, mum. Excuse me, mum, but I hope the young lady'a doin' toler- able, mum ?" " Oh yes, I think she is doing nicely, Tim." Mrs. Plumley repaired to the breakfast-room, and there she encountered the plaintive fea- tures of her amiable sister-in-law— Miss Plum- ley — the victim of former years. Now, with regard to the general appearance and effect of the gentle spinster on this the oc- casion of her re-appearance on the stage of these Adventures from the oblivion of seven long years, there ie room for the introduc- tion of a solitary remark, which may be appropriately prefaced with the intimation that it refers to a still solitary object. Now the tendency of our observations among the gentler halves has been towards the con- viction that the aolitary condition doea not tend to promote the development of wrinklea nor tb3 undue protrusion of ey«bones, nor the acidification of tempers, to a greater extent than is found to obtain among the individual atoms of the matrimonial amalgam. But never- theless we confess it is with some astonishment we find ourselves called upon to record the fact, that, notwithstanding the sensitive and susceptible nature of the solitary object of these remarks, the frightful lapse of seven whole years had not only failed to establish so much as one individual additional wrinkle upon her intellectual front, but that the old outlines had well-nigh disappeared — that the flesh had gathered upon her once sunken cheeks — that her impressive, not to say sparkling, eyes had come forward from their dark recesses and un- masked their native comeliness, and that the perfect semblance of a smile had thrown its gladdening mantle around her classic features ; and notwithstanding that she was attired in a loose morning habit, and that the profusion of curls which she had successfully cultivated had not yet emerged from their nocturnal wrappers, she unquestionably presented a hap- py contrast with the disconsolate victim of former years. " Dear me, Lizy, how fatigued you look," said Miss Plumley. " How is she ? What a strange coincidence, to be sure 1" " Yes, very strange," said Mrs. Plumley. *' Oh, she's much better, poor dear, I think." > Hi LIFE AND ADVENTURES >>•: m I m m '■0- t:- ** Tea, it i$ rerj strange," added Miss Plumlej, in a little mystery to herself. " You are quite ■nro, LIzy, she is what she represents hersef ? It is rerj odd that Qeorge don't return. You hare never been made the victim of an imposi- tion, surely, have you 7" " Bless me, Selina, what a Ainny idea," said Mrs. Plumley, incredulously, "she's quite a lady ; besides I should have remembered her face again anywhere. And then William. Don't you recollect William on board the vessel ?" " Yes, I think I have a faint recollection," said Miss Plumley ; '* but it is very faint. You must remember, Lizy, I was a great sufferer during the voyage — a complete victim. I am ■are I hope for your sake, Lizy, there is nothing wrong ; but really in this world we are never ■ure 7" And Miss Plumley cast up her hands and her eyes ceilingward to imply the mutability of all things. "But I am sure there is nothing wrong, Belina — it aint possible. She's quite a lady- she is, really. Wont you 30 up to see her ?" said Mrs. Plumley. " Well, I'm afraid I shall not have time," replied Miss Plumley. " The children will be here presently ; and then, you know, I am so engaged." This latter remark about "the children" requires a word of explanation. From her early days Miss Plumley had always had a yearning desire toward the mental, moral, phy- sical, and general culture of her infantine brethren— or rather sisterhood ; and on her brother's location on his present estate, she had, very much to her gratification, discovered an opening. The hopeful and well-to-do parents residing in, and in the vicinity of, the village, like themselves, had one and all observed the unmistakable amount of refinement and " lady- like" grace that Lizy Plumley had brought with her into their midst ; and a very laudable am- Isition was straightway excited in their breasts that their beloved offsprings might shine forth in the world with the same unmistakeable ef- fulgence. This was the opening that Miss Selina discovered ; and she therefore immediately set her to work and issued her prospectus, au- nonncing the highly satisfactory fact that she had opened a " Seminary for Yoang Ladies." To her entire gratification this announcement was immediately followed by a general rush from the whole upper ten thousand — or rather the ten without the thousand— of the village ; and her seminary was at once established on » most respectable and satisfactory basis— Lisy Plumley being the model to which each and every of the " young ladies " was to be moulded. And considering that one was afflicted with an hereditary hunch on her innocent little back ; and another was supported on a club-foot and lisped ; while a third carried about with her the signs of her mamma's frailty in the shape of a hare-lip and a somewhat unpromising squint,— it is due to Miss Selina to state that she com- menced her labors with the most pralse^vorthy self-denial and the utmost purity of purpose. It was about three o'clock in the afternoon of the day in which she re-appears upon the face of our narrative, that Miss Selina stood in the centre of her scholastic sanctum, which was the back parlour, and, looking round upon the small congregation of ten hopeful little souls who were each and all submerged in the mys- teries of Berlin wool and crotchet cotton, she remarked, " Jemima, child, have you finished that cat's bead on your sampler ?" " It ith verthy nearthy done, mum," replied Jemima, which was the child with the com- pound foot and imperfect vernacular. " Make haste then, child," said Miss Selina. "Girls, pray be attentive. Angy [short for Angelina], how are you getting on with your mamma's night-cap 7" " Oh why, I aint getting on at all," replied the little Angel, with a little of sublunary tartness ; " as fast as I goes to drop one I drops two, and then I drops 'em altogether, and then it's a reg'lar mess." "Silly child — very silly child," said Miss Selina, reprovingly. " Why, bless me, you've been and tied it all in knots." " Yes, mum, that's what I've been and done, mum," replied the Angel. " silly, silly, silly," said Miss Selina, tap- ping the Angel lightly on the left shoulder. " How ever could you be so foolish ? Now, e^rls, you are not to laugh. Janey [short for Jane], why have you put down your work, child ?" " Cos I'm tir'd," replied the laconic Janey. " Oh, naughty, naughty girl," said Miss Se- lina, " how can you be tired, child ?" " Cos I've worked," replied Janey. . ''- " Oh, for shame. Miss," said Miss Selina, di- stributing an admonitory glance among the remaining nine ; " Janey, for shame." But Janey didn't appear to see any shame at all about the matter, and she therefore at ;;'4 tabliihed on • 7 basis^Lisj liich each and to be moulded. Hicted with an it little back ; club-foot and It with her the (he shape of a i8lng squint,— that ihe com- praiseTorthy of purpose, the afteraoon ?ar3 upon the lelina stood in im, which was >und upon the 'ul little souIb d in the mys- let cotton, she ihed that cat's num," replied rith the com- ular. 1 Miss Selina. jy [short for on with your t all," replied of sublunary >p one I drops ther,and then 1," said Miss ss me, you're en and done, I Selina, tap- eft shoulder. )lish ? Now, ey [short for your work, onic Janey. laid Hiss Se- d?" ley. ss Selina, di- among the me." any shame at therefore at OF SIMON SEEK. 118 once threw a counter-g • .: j round upon her fellows, which, baring fo' iis component parts a comical distortion ot erery indiridual feature of her comical little countenance, set them all a giggling, and immediately inrolred the spinster in a complication of distresses which might possibly hare ended seriously for the youthful offenders, had not Betty, the little handmaid, entered at the moment, and effectu- ally distracted her mistress's attention from this Insubordination in her pupils. << Betty," said Hiss Selina, « who was that you just showed into the parlor 7" " Gentl'm'n, 'um," replied Betty. " But what gentleman, girl ?'^ " Hr. Weezle, 'um." Hiss Selina lowered her roic ) to a whisper. "Who did he ask for, Betty?" " Hast'r, 'um, but 's not t'ome, 'um." "No one else, Betty?" " Goin' to see missus, I b'iiere, 'um. He sed 'spose misses 'ud do, 'um, so sent him into the pullar, 'um." " Oh, dear me, Betty," said Hiss Selma, rais- ing her roice to its natural tone, " how sadly inkirect you do speak 1 What bad prenounci- nation I How is it, Betty, that you never lernt to speak better?" ,,,.. " Hother died when I's a little un, 'um, and father used get drunk, 'um, and so 's nerer te&ched nothing, 'um," replied the illiterate Betty. " And did you nerer go to a Siminiry, Betty ?" asked the affectionate spinster. " Wint to the Dead Han's Simitry once, 'um, but couldn't read the 'scriptions, 'um," replied the hopeless. " Oh, how rery deplorible," said Hiss Selina, casting her eyes compassionately on the untu- tored handmaid. "Girls, don't laugh. Only think what a blessing it is that you can go to school I Now if you are all rery good children for the next ten minutes, I shall let you home an hour earlier. So be very good, now." If the girls thought it a blessing to be allow- ed to go to school, it was very plain, from the expressions of countenance with which they received this gracious announcement, that the next best blessing would be to let them out of it ; and if anything was wanting to confirm that impression, the deficiency was amply sup- plied when the stipulated ten minutes had elapsed and they were allowed to go free, by the unmistakeable demonstration of delight with which they broke the blessed bonds of their scholastic captirity. ., -■ ^ The girls being gone. Hiss Selina immediate- ly took a prirat^ surrey of the front parlor through the keyhole, and then flew straight* way up stairs to her own prirate sanctum— whither we follow her not. But suffice it to say, that in a few minutes she returned with a purple tint upon each cheek,{ndicatire of recent ablution ; an extra lustre upon the facial orna- ments that gathered about her ears, indicative of groa — no, pomade ; and a general display of all those artistic touches of feminine inge- nuity and taslc, that " bewilder while they please," inclusire of nature's brightest handi- work — a smile, which played around her fea- tures in all its natire purity. Surrounded by the whole of this imposing p,ocumulation of nature and of art, she proceed- ed straightway to the front parlor, and present- ed herself in full blaze before the admiring but slightly-bewildered gaze of Hr. Worzel; to whom Mrs. Plumley was just recounting the occurrences of the last twenty-four hours, and deploring the still unaccountable absence of her husband. " Oh, Hr. Worzel, how do you do ?" said Hiss Plumley. "Wurl, oi'm purty wurl, thoink you. Miss Plurmley," replied Hr. Worzel. ^m'M And, to be sure, he looked pretty well with- out the smallest particle of doubt about it. Although he had unquestionably brought to the Canadian shores a rery ample coporeal derelopment, there nerertheless appeared to J be a considerable increase in the general extent of surface ; and, from the jolly expression of his jolly-looking countenance and the highly re- spectable appearance of his general exterior, it was abundantly erident that he had found fa- ror in the land of his adoption, and that to all intents and purposes he had flourished like a " green maple tree." " I hare just been telling Mr. Worzel, Selina," said Hrs. Plumley, " about last night, and about Hr. Plumley's being away in the woods so long. He don't seem to know what to think of it, Selina." •..•.■., .... " Noa, it seems rery stroinge," said Mr. Wor- zel. " But still there's noa doubt something's detaining orf 'em. Oi doant think they'd erer goa for to lose themselves— oi can't think that. Burt it's a dreadful thing for the poor young lady. Hiss Plumley." "Oh, rery dreadful, rery dreadful," said Hiss Plumley. " I hope there is nothing wrong, Hr. Worzel ; it is so shocking to think of." " Oh, I begin to be so frightened," said Mrs. 114 LIFE AND ADVENTURES isi'li Ploinley. « Only to think I »I1 night In thoM terrible woodi I Oh, I am getting quite dii- traoted. Will 70U iitay a little while with Mr. Wonel, Selina, while I go up italri to lee how the poor dear young lady ii7 I think Lizy muit be very tired. She hai not had more than one or two honn' tleep linee laet night. You win not go yet, Mr. Worael 7" "Wurl, o'im in noa hurry, Mrs. Plumley," ■aid Mr. Wonel, oaitlng a nerrous glance to- ward! Selina.) '< Oh, I am glad of that," said Mrs. Plumley, as she left tho room, " because they may soon be back, and then we shall hear all the news, you know." " Wurl, Miss Plurmley, this is rather sad, it appears," said Mr. Worzel, by way of success- fully breaking the ice, as soon as they were left alone. " I really fear so," said Miss Selina, produc- ing the CTer-cherished " cambric " from her pocket, as a safeguard against any inelegant wanderings on the part of her hands. " Kind- ness is so often imposed upon, is it not?" added Hiss Selina placing the cambric sweetly 1 be- tween her fingers. "Wurl, it be; but it's a pitty," said Mr. Worzel, fumbling somewhat vacantly in his pocket. " You're quite well, I puraume, Miss Plurmley," added Mr. Worzel, fixing his eyes intently on the tip of the spinster's toe as it peeped modestly out from the surrounding mysteries. " Oh, I'm quite well," replied the spinster, with a gentle application of the cambric to the right-hand corner of her neatly chiselled mouth. « 01 hope nothing '11 be amiss, oi'm sure,'' said Mr. Worzel. " I hope not," said Miss Selina. " It would be very misfortunate," said Mr. Worzel. " Very," said Miss Selina. " Miss Plurmley," said Mr. Worzel, raising his eyes for an instant to the countenance of the spinster, and then dropping and concen- trating them again on the personal fragment before alluded to, " Oi'm — oi'm thinkin' orf leaving this part orf the courntry. Miss Plurmley." "Indeed," replied Miss Plumley, taking a firm hold of the cambric, and producing the appropriate expression. "Yers," continued Ur. Worzel, "oi've sold moi farm roight out, and oi'm goin' to boi an- orther down about the part that Mr. Plurmley's torkin orf going to, close to Mr. Seek's pUec, Miss Plurmley. But afore ol settled lolke, the — the fkot Is, Miss Plurmly, ol— ol wanted to uk you a— a— that is, oi was thinkin' tha^- that— was that anyone at the door, Miss T' said Mr. Wonel, breaking off In some degree of em- barrassment. Miss Plumley was already seized with a fit of indecision, not to say nervousness, and sh« rose and fluttered towards the door, and, find- ing that the apprehension was groundless, But- tered back again. Mr. Worzel had instinctively raised himself from his seat i^nd thrust his hands deep into his breeches' pockets to ensure solidity of pur- pose ; and there they stood, side by side, with their respective eyes transfixed upon the flam- ing logs upon the hearth at their feet, the very foreshadowing of mystery and emotion. " Miss Plurmley," said Mr. Worzel, removing a fire-brand into a peculiarly eccentric position with the assistance of his boot, and speaking almost In a whisper, " I don't know whether we exac'ly urnderstan' each — a — a — that is, whether you — you— or, rather oi think we might lolke a thing if it was agreeable loike I" Miss Plumley removed the crystal drop that had gathered on her virgin brow, and, en- shrowding herself In all the becoming modesty of maidenhood, remained silent. "The fact is," pursued Mr. Worzel, still playing with the logs, and piling them up into all kinds of odd positions, " oi've been a Igoin' to speak to you, Miss Plurmley, for a lorng time past, but oi wasn't sure loike if — if oi ought : but wort oi wornt to say is, that — that — why there. Miss Plurmley, oi can't say fair- er," continued he, kicking over the flaming pile at his feet with a sudden burst of resolution, and agonizing his features into about the ex- pression with which a man might be supposed to sign his own death-warrant, "oi'll marry yerl" The fair spinster's position on the hearth-rug had already become painfully uncertain, and, as these last words fell upon her bewildered ear, she began straightway to^oscillate to and fro, and to describe certain undefined outlines in the air— the crystal dew stood out upon her marble brow — ^her eyes began to wander into unknown regions, and the gallant Worzel was just turning to her with the usual " Will you be mine ?" upon his lips, when, behold, her fra- gile form gave way, and, measuring a " bee- line," came plump into his arms, and lay pas- sively against his stalwart breast. Seek'i pUet, ed loike, the ol w«nt«d to inkia' thft^- , MiMTMid legree of em- sed with a fit esi, and iht or, and, find- undleai, flat- Ued himself ids deep into lidity of pur- ij side, with [>on the flam- eir feet, the d emotion, lel, removing itric position ind speaking now whether — a — that is, }i think we table loike I" tal drop that w, and, en- ling modestj 97orzel, still ig them up oi've been a , for a lorng oike if— if ol I, that — that an't say fair- flaraing pile resolution, ibout the ex- be supposed "oi'U marry e hearth-rug certain, and, r bewildered illate to and ned outlines tut upon her wander into Worzel was "Will you old, her fra- Qg a "bee- and lay pas- OF SIMON SEEK. 118 This situation was, no donbt, something new nndar the sun to the untutored Woriel ; and there he stood in a state of pretty considerable bewilderment for several seconds ; which was scarcely improved by the sudden opening of door, and the appearance of Timothy and the small handmaid with a f^esh supply of fUel for the fire. " Oh, beg pardin," said Timothy, retreating a step as his eye took in the general aspect of aflkirs. " I say, here's a go," he added, in an « aside " to Betty. " Fetch a pail of water and the winegar— here's the misses a tryin' on the mele-drematic." " He — he — here, Timothy," stammered Mr. Worzel. " Do — don't go. Miss Plurmley's took ornwell. What's to be done ?" " Well, I'll call misses," said Timothy, mov- ing off and adjusting his hand to his mouth for the better conveyance of the contemplated sound. " No, no, no, thank you," stammered Mr. Worzel. "Oh, dear," gasped the oblivious spinster, " t:A— the sofa." This suggestion threw a new light into the bewildered perceptives of Mr. Worzel, and, in something short of a twinkling, and without much regard to either gallantry or grace, he proceeded to deposit his fair burden upon the couch. In the meantime the illiterate Betty had not been indolent ; for besides alarming her mis- tress, and shouting out "fire" from the back door, she had succeeded, in conformity with Timothy's Instructions, in securing a five-gal« Ion pitcher fUU of water and a quart bottle of vinegar, with which restoratives she now pre- sented herself before the imperfbot vision of her maiden mistress. But the process of recovery was such as to dispense with the use of any such potent rege- nerators. A little casting of the eyes upwards —a few spasmodic gasps, accompanied with the usual " oh dear " and " bless me," and sh« was beginning again to smile incredulously on things generally, when the sudden appearance of Mrs. Plumley brought her to an instant per- pendicular, and effectually restored her to her wonted serenity and composure. "Oh, bless me, what's the matter?" cried Mrs. Plumley. " Is any one hurt?" Mr. Worzel looked supreme confusion, and turned imploringly to the innocent cause of hii discomfiture. Miss Plumley struggled with her emotioni for a brief space, and then burst into tears. Mr. Worzel felt several degrees more embar- rassed than ever ; and he was Just on the point of stammering out an explanation in rsply to Mrs. Plumley's gesticulations, when the un- pleasant office was spared him by the sudden appearance of Timothy, who rushed into the room exclaiming, " Here they are — here they are I" All parties immediately made a rush to the window, and, as Mrs. Plumley joyfully exclaim- ed, — ^yes, there they were, sure enough. CHAPTER XX. THE STRANGE PASSION. It was the arrival of their friends from the woods that created the little excitement among the Plumleys with which the last chapter con- cluded. Mrs. Plumley rushed instantly to the front door to receive them, and, to her sad disap- pointment and alarm, she at once perceived that they had returned unaccompanied by the dear object of their journey. They were all looking haggard and worn-out, and William in particular seemed the very picture of wretch- edness. " Oh, bless me, George dear, you've not brought her I" said Mrs. Plumley as her hus- band ascended the steps after giving his horse in charge to Timothy. " No, no, girl, Providence is agen it ; we've not brought her," said Mr. Plumley, with a melancholy shake of his good-natured head. " Hi, William, come inside, man — you're cut- up, I can see that. Well, we must hope for the best. Gome along, Simon," he added, leading the way into the parlor. "Oh, Simon," said Mrs. Plumley, looking 116 LIFE AND ADViENTURES p .:•■■ ■nilouilj flrom ono to another m thej romored their outer gartnenti, " do tell me what bai happened." " She WM Rone, mother — gone befure we reached the ipot," replied Simon, who itood with hit oyei fixed tiioughtfulij npon the flro. "How— how ii your patient, mother?" he ad- ded heiltatingly and without rniaing his eyei from the hearth. " Oh, she is wonderflilly hotter— nearly well, Simon dear," replied Mrs. Plumley. " But whatever has become of the poor (1t.id h.T\ Plur.. ley. " Are the Indians very sava^'e, Mr. '.^'il- liaml" " Oh, no, ma'am — ^not at all, ir ".'am,'' replied William, " quite the contrary, in fact. We've found them always very kind." " And do you really think it's them that have found the poor dear creature ?" " I really do, ma'am," said William. " It'i literall} astonishing the knowledge they seem to have of everything that's going on in tht woods — astonlMhlng, ma'am. I shouldn't be the least surprised if they don't trace mo here, and bring Mrs. Ulockbourn along with them, ma'am— not the least." "Well we must liopo for the best, Lizy girl,'' said Mr. Plumloy. " I suppose you have not seen Mrs. McCamoron, Lizy?" " No, Oeorgo dear." " I think I ought to run down and break it to the poor lady as favorably as I can, like. What do you think, Mr. Wurzol?" said Mr. Plumloy. " Wurl, oi should soy it would be best. Poor Mrs. McOameron's very anxious, I know — 'spe- cially now Mr. McCameron's away. Oi should say it.would be best, Mr. Plumloy," replied Mr. Worzel. " And perhaps that dear old gentlemen, Mr. McOameron's brother, might bo able to toll you what's best to bo dune," said Mrs. Plumley. "Yes, perhaps so — I'll go directly," said Mr. Plumley. " And so, Lizy, the little lady is get* ting better?" " Oh, wonderful," said Mrs. Plumley. " She's been talking so cheerful. But she's been so very anxious rl ^ ;t Miss McOamrron, I'm afraid it will almost Kund her ill again when she hears what's hapiionod." "Does she know where she is — in what house ?" asked Simon, who had remained silent and thoughtful during the foregoing dia- logue. " Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Plumley, " Lizy has told her all about it ; and she seems so very pleased to think she is not among strangers altogether. How very strange it was too, Si- mon dear, wasn't it ?" "Mother," said Si^ion, rising from iiia neni and looking at ]>or with some agitat'*"!, '' 't was very strange — very strange, indei " He shook his head, and, with a countenance full of distress, moved slowly from the room. No wonder that his mind was troubled. The fair vision that had gone before him for seven long years — the flame that had kin- dled his aspiration'^ — the inspiring genius of all his riuccesses, had again assumed its reality and uood before him, no longer a day-dream and a shadow, but the substance of all his hopes id fears and speculations for seven years. But her coming was too late— the time had 07 SIMON iiEER. «t« ft them thkt lUUra. "It'i Igo they leem ing on in tht ihouldn't be race mu hero, g with them, lit, Ll7,y girl/ you hare not 1 and break It AS I can, like. ol?" laid Mr. bo best. Poor I know — 'spe- ly. 01 should )r," replied Mr. entlemon, Mr. Me to tell you I. Plumley. ctly," said Mr. tie lady is got* iimley. "She's she's been so on, I'm afraid itIicq she hears is — in what pmaincd silent oregoing dia- py, " Lizy has seems so very ung strangers it was too, Si- from iiis ue.at ogitat''"(i, " 't indei '" countenance im the room, troubled. The efore him for ;hat had kin- ig genius of all ed its reality a day-dream of all his hopes seven years, -the time had fOBc-by when h« eould weleoma h«r m that dear objeot to wbloh hli drenrai had polated him ; and he saw in her prtMDoe only dtttreii and perplaiity for ' %»\t, and wrrow for thoee whom h« nuoh ret).. ct«d and loved. No won- der that hie mind waa troubled. Gd leaving school, he had, at the lUggeaUon t^nd through the influence of hit matter, by wliom he waa much retpaetad, entered the of- (>ca of a barrister in a small though flourithing town in a Wettern Oounty tome forty or fifty milet ftom Toronto, as a copying clerk. And partly through the tuiierior facilitiot afforded in Canada for advaicenieut, although perhapt equally at much I > iim> ..Id -f hit own abilitiea and untiring iiergy, i ehul , radually advanced atep by atop nver tlie rougl. road of the law, until, nl. the leiiiii^ i'.m of bis articles, which "ere « > " pending, hn bid fair to become a pii'tii> r ill the concern of which he bad already the major part of t' i laanagement. Betides thin, at a first stepping-stone towards the political goal to which hit aspirationi di- rected him, bo had become a part proprietor and editor of the chief political Journal In the towu ; aud whatever might have been the eflbct of the sound Judgment and argumentive force diiplayed in hit articles upon the political com- munity at large, it is at any rate certain that they had already gained for him a numerous circle of adherents and friends, among whom were numbered somn of the most wealthy and influential men In the county, and perhapt in the country. He had begun young, but he had begun well ; and It only remained for him to go on as he had begun, to carry out the policy that he had already adopted, In order to raise himself to almost any position to which a laudible am- bition might lead him to aspire. With a view to the happy termination of the love that hivd mnnifjstly existed bottveen them from lb "'r cradled, and for which th^y devoutly Iiopou, ihe Plumleys had been careful to edu- cate their daughter that she might in that point at least be an equal " match " for their foster son, whom they easily perceived, in a country like Canada, and with the little i^aucatL o they were happily enabled to afford for hiaa, would be certain to raise himself at least to i liighly respectable position. And although Simon had not yet thoight it necessary to make any formal declaration, ht had long been satisfied in his own mind, that, with one strange and solitary exception, — the reality of which, however, he had never hoped to meat afftln,— bla ha«rt waa avary atom tht property of bla affaotlonata llttla Liay; uA paroeiviiig that It waa tha deslra of hia good, kind frienda tbr • It should be to, ha had loat no opportunity, during the last year or two, in encouraging tha attaohwunt on both tidaa. His ij'tla Lliy hml been Inundated with pra> aantt u^. I latteri and kindness, and it waa ta« oitly undaratood by all partiea thai they war* finally and conclutively " engaged "; and tha two principle partial at laaat ware tupremaly happy In the undentanding. But tha tudden reappaaranoa of Alloa had rekindled In his mind, with all Ita bewilderinf accompaniments, the atrange aberration of big affection which had marked the first dawn of their acquaintance aa children when they tat gazing on each other on the deck of the Wan> derer. The more he struggled and reasoned with himtelf, the more he taw how weak and ineffectual were all the controlling powers which he potsessed against the strange passion with which the Inspired him. No wonder that hia mind was troubled. He waa no more than that frail, fickle, unstable compilation of Incongruities — a man ; and surely Ae was never made to be constant where women is the subject : but anon the waveror shall speak for himtelf. The following day was Sunday ; and Alice being sufliciently recovered, waa allowed to leave her room, and soon after breakfast she made her appearance in the parlor. She ^ ia neatly attired in a dress with which Lizy had kindly provided her, and it would perhaps havo been difficult to say whether the deep tinge that the forest had imparted to her cheek, detracted from or added to her natural beauty ; but whe- ther or not, the visions which Simon had pic- tured to himself of his little lady matured to womanhood, could scarcely have surpassed the reality that was before him. Simon hold her hand in his, and they looked at each other iu silence as when they had last parted, and the tears stole gradually into their eyes. Lizy being engaged about the domestic matters with Mrs. Plumley, they were left alone for some considerable time ; and after a long pause, Simon broke the silence by remarking, " This is a sad, strange meeting, Miss — Miss ," he stopped short and looked enquiringly into her tearful eyes. Siiu understood him. He had not known her by any other name than Alice, and she re- plied, " It U very strange. Can yon not ttill re- »::.„ S- •] 118 LIFE AND ADVENTURES I* ll.f i RK gftrd me M A fVlond ? Might not you ■Mil call ma AliooKiMflrtend — would tlmt bo iinproparT" " I Imve Imd nutij good ntul kind Ariandii," replied Himon, looking lomothing mor* tlinn kIndnoiR, doRpite of r«*olution« to tho oontrMry ; '* but Although you niHy havo known it but littio, I Imvo had nnno truor nor hotter than you, Alice I — to call you Alice roqulrt^a but your |icrniia«ion, nnd after that Ishnll never be able to cull you any other. Wc are A-iondR, Alice —we can still bo 8o— and may wo bo so long." "Thank you— llmnk you," said Alice ; "but how can I have boon a IVlond to you ? — it was inch a very— very short time, and how very long ago I" " True," «aid Sinion, " true ; but tho imprea- siona of those fow dnyn have been witii me the iinproRsions of seven years. 1 had scarcely hoped to meet you again, Alice; but tho little lady who wits so kind to the poor little boy on board (he Wanderer has never been fairly out of niyn\iud for a single hour to tho present mo- ment. ( 'ircuuistuncos linve wonderfully chang- ed with IOC ; but had I never seen you 1 should never have been what I now am. Although absent, Alice, and so long, yo\i have been my good ungcl, who has always gone before mo and marked out my course to what I now am.'' lie, felt from the verj bottom of his soul the truth of what he wassnying, and ho s])oke with all tho fervour and feeling that the conviction engendered. Alice looked at him, and marked, with eyes beaming with gratitude and pleasure but full of tears, the earnestness with which he spoke. "It is very kind of you to say so," sho said, " very kind ; but although tho romombrance has boon mutual — although 1 have never forgotten those few short days, and my one desire in quitting the woods has boon tlmt 1 might meet you again and renew our friendship — I cannot tell how the thought of mo should influence you so much. It is very kind of you to say so." "And in saying so, Alice," said Simon, " I only say what to njo is a sacred truth. You have hitiierto been my good angol, Alice ; but — " he stopped short with a perceptible start, and turned his eyes confusedly towards tho door, whore they foil upon the pale features of his lit- tle Li/.y, who had just run in to remind them that it was drawing close to the hour for church. She, however, did not observe his confusion, or else designedly passed it over, for, shv.king her curls at him good-humoredly and laughing away the pallor from her cheek, sho threw her arms around Alice's neck, and, look- ing up iato her flioe, aaid in the moat ohftrmlng of all charming little roicea, " Now, little lady, I am aftrald you're been a Tery naughty girl for a very long time not to go to ohuroh, Oh, what a long time it muat l>« atnoe you even aaw a pulpit. Now, do you think you are well enough, you naughty, naughty girl, to oome and hoar a sermon T" " Uh, yes, I should bo so dollgltted," aaid Alice. " There's a dear," said Mzy. "The aleigh'a nearly ready. So come along and get your things on ; and thou HInion is going to drive us both down. I never ask him, you know, booauso ho always does it, whatever it Is, If I say so— don't you, sir I" she said shaking hor curls at him and running otV with her frioud without waiting for a reply. Simon's heart smote him as he saw the gen- erous struggle with which she strove to dis- guise tho conviction and the distress that his consci nee told liim must have been forced upon iutr already by liis slrango and unwortiiy conduct. llcr generous goodness was more Ills accuser than were all the principles of reo* titudo and honor aiul consolonco with widoh ho was endowed, lie Jumped to his feet as Ids eyes followed her iVom the room, and continued pacing hurriedly and feverishly up and down, reproving idmself in the \v«M exemplary man- ner until ho had creatud a tlioroiigli reformation in his nnsialiltf mind, and inscribed tlinreiu a series of do:orniinod resolutions which were to set every till ig right ; and when \,v/,y returned, accompanied by her niend encased in Air, he took both hor hands in his, and was just en- deavouring to look what his feelings would not allow hlin to express in words, wlieii his eyes wandered over hor shoulder into the coiinto- luuice of Alice, — they fell — tho look gave way, and his reformation and resolves woro at once a failure. Tho drive to the village church, whicli was about a mile distant, along a road studded with farmers' cottages oiicitiier side, from which tho blue smoke curled up in all kinds of fantastic sha])08 and rolled away upon tho bright cloar atmosphere to tho distant forest, was all plea- sant enough. Tlio girls found a suitlcleut sub- joot for the oxcerciso of tlieir innocent little tongues in the wild scenery on all sides, and tho quaint tenements, nnd4the endless groups of little urchins wlio woro scampering about them in tho snow ; and thoy exorcised them acoord- ly, in conformity with tiioir usual custom. But Simon, despite of every olfort to throw noit oharmlng you're been « ng time not to time it muit be Now, do you you nnugUty, I aerinon ?" loltffhled," iMld « Tlio ilolgh't niul Rol your goinir to drlTC lini, you kuovT, «vor It la, if I till Hhiiking her ivlth her frloud 10 Biiw llio gou- ) strove to tH«- llntress lliat IiIh vo bcKii forcod i niid unwortliy li\r8H wnH more rlnciplos of n>o- nco witli which to hit) fool M Ills , and coiitinuod up and down, sxoiuplary inan- ii|{h rcformailou rlbi'd tlioioiii a s wliioli were to I I,i/,y rotomod, leased in fur, ho id w»» just en- linns would uol when hl8 eyes nU) the counto- Idok gave way, CB were at onco rch, which was nd studded with from which the uls of faulaslic the bright clear st, was all ploa- a suflicieut sub- innocent little II all sides, and ndli'ss groups of ring about thorn d them acoord- ual custom, effort to throw OP fftMdl* RRRK. ^^i about it by and bye. In the mean time keep your eyes open. She's gone up stairs now — I'll introduce you when she comes down." "Ay, what Is in tho wind?" " Never mind — nothing. Don't bo too curi- ous, young fellow. Oomo along, — we siiall have them looking after us." Seven years had evidently dono tho proper thing by Mr. Philip Sorftish. From a rather questionable stripling, they had transformed him Intoawell-shapod, active, thorough-going young man, with qualities for which every one admired, respected, and ostocmed him. Ho still remained in tho service of tho merchant with whom wo left him In Montreal ; but had boon advanced to tlie management of a branch con- cern in the city of Ottaw i, w'lero ho at present resided with his 8i8ter-in-;..",,tIio deserted Mrs. Sorftish, — no intelligence whatever having bitborto reached them of tho fa to or where- abouts of tho fugitive Josiah. "Well, now, Mrs. Pluniloy," said Philip on entering tho parlor, " I've got a little matter that I have como up hero almost expressly to 120 LIFB JkSD ADYB^TURES •«ttl0| Md I waAt jour asaUtanoe. Shall I hare it?" " Oh, bless me, it depends what it is, I'm afiraid," said Mrs. Plumley. " It's a laudable object," said Philip. " 0, then I think you had better ask his 2or man of between age, with a grey jure, which, how- 7 enfeebled by age entrance of Alic OF SIMON SEEK. 121 into the room he had started in some apparent surprise, and stood gazing on her, when she was presented to him, with a bewildered coun- tenance, that showed she had awakened in his mind some blambering emotions of bygone days —some sad recollection that seemed to trouble him ; and after calling Mr. Plumley aside and conversing with him in an under-tone for several minutes, he retired, and motioned William to follow him, and they were both absent for some considerable time. When he returned, his countenance appeared heavy and troubled, and he seated himself in silence ; and for the rest of the day his whole soul seemed absorbed in the contemplation of the beautiful. girl whose ap- pearance had so moved him; his eyes were scarcely removed from her for a single moment ; but bis thoughts and his emotions were his own, for his tongue was silent. In the evening, at the request of Mrs. Mc- Gameron, who was deeply interested on account of her absent daughter, Alice was prevailed- upon to give them an account of their so- journ in the woods. There was a great deal in her story that was eminently distressing — an additional pathos being imparted to every hardship and privation ^nd suffering that the melancholy history involved, by the uncom- plaining simplicity of the narrator. While every one of her listeners was sensibly affected by the sad story, there were some upon whom the effect was more marked and more observa- ble, and who appeared, as she proceeded, to lose the entire control of their feelings, in the pain and distresa which her simple narrative occa- sioned them. The old man, who was seated opposite her, followed her with the intensest interest through every incident ; and before she had concluded, the tears were rolling down his cheeks in a continous stream, and he appeared to have become oblivious to everything but the voice and the sufferings of the gentle being be- fore him. Simon and Lizy were seated together at the opposite end of the table, and the former continued for some considerable time to show his interest in the narrative only by sympathe- tic gestures to his companion at particular points ; but as it proceeded, he gradually became more and more absorbed — he leaned forward on the table with his chin resting in hit hands, his companion became entirely forgotten, and before it was concluded the tears were in his eyes, his countenance had become flushed and excited, and he was altogether as oblivi- ous to every other object in the room as was the old man in his tears. Lizy took no notice of his abstraction fur a consic'ierable length of time, until his cheeks became so unusually flushed and his countenance evinced an intensify of emotion that the circumstance seemed scarce- ly adequate to inspire ; when her thoughts be- came gradually distracted from the subject of the general attention, her eyes began to wander from him to the object of his excitement, until they ultimately became rivetted on him alto- together, and were not again removed until the narrative was closed. She then rose silently from her seat, and, hurrying from the room, repaired to her own apartment, and, falling into a chair, buried her face in her hands and burst into tears. She was still cryingH)itterly when she felt a hand laid gently on her shoul- der, and on looking up she perceived that it was Alice. '■I know why you are distressed, Lizy," said Alice stooping down and putting her arms af- fectionately about her neck ; " can you trust me?" " Do you know, Alice 7" said Lizy looking at her earnestly through her tears. " I am not angry with any one, Alice dear." " No, no ; you are too good," replied Alice ; " but you will trust me — you will believe me your friend — ^your dear friend, wont you, Lizy ?" " I know — I know you are," said Lizy ; " and I know I am very silly, but — " she checked herself and burst again into tears. She would have said, But the heart is very treacherous, and love is a strong passion, and before it our virtues, our friendships, and our best resolves are only wax. i{ Ws' 123 LIFE AND ADVENTURES IS ''']■/ ::ri> CHAPTER XXI. WHICH INTRODUCES THE GREAT INDIAN CHIEF CHACHINHAWOHA- CAOHAWACHAQA. ^.' (' KC It having been arranged between the Plum- leya and their ftiends to accept Mr. Sorflish'a inTitation to accompanj him to Ottawa on ^he following day, the sleighs were procured, and, after an early breakfast, it being a considera- ble journey to the city, the whole party of eleven souls, and pretty cheerful souls too, with the exception of Simon and Philip, were snugly placed in their respective positions, and the whips cracked, the bells began to ring, and off they started upon the journey. Mr. Plum- ley undertook the reins of government of sleigh No 1, with Mrs. Plumley by his side, and the three girls, Lizy, Clara, and Alice, behind him ; while Mr. Worzel, who had turned-up sponta- neously for the occasion, conducted the move- ments of No. 2, with his fair enslaver at his elbow, and Timothy and William in his rear. Simon and his friend, having horses of their own, had determined to go on horse-back. But de- spite himself, Simon was heavy and thoughtf\il. He engaged in a most determined struggle with himself for the purpose of getting-up the ne- cessary amount of animation among the girls as he cantered along by their sides ; but it was not in him. He was hopelessly dull ; and hope- lessly dull was all he could say or do : and after a variety of fruitless attempts to appear what he was not and at that time couldn't possibly be, he hastily excused himself from their company, promising to join them again at the next halt, and, motioning to Philip to fol- low him, put spurs to his horse and galloped forward in advance. " Hi, young fellow, stop 1" cried Philip after they had been plunging through the snow at a break-neck pace for something like a couple of miles. "Why, Sim, what on earth is in the wind now ?" " Hi ho, we've been going it, haven't we 7" cried Simon reining-up and looking behind him for the sleighs. " Something remarkably like it, I should say," replied Philip. " The fact is, Phil," said Simon, " I am pretty considerably bewildered." " Well, upon my word, you look so," said Phi- lip. "But what's the matter, my dear fel- low ?" " What's the matter I" returned Simon. "Well, that's cool certainly. I thought I had enlightened you a bit upon that point already. But however L suppose you have forgotten all about it. You have been to sleep since ; but as I haven't, you see it is fresh in my memory still." " Well, well," said Philip, " upon my word it is a rather serious business if it hangs about you like this. But you must shake it off — you must, my dear fellow, indeed." " Yes, that is what you said last night, I be- lieve," said Simon ; " but you forgot to tell me how to set about it. But the fact is, Phil, you know me too well not to see that this is some- thing beyond a jest.. I don't think I am particularly weak-minded in matters of tl:is sort, but this time I seem to have lost mind and purpose and principle, and everything else. And, upon my word, what can a fellow do 7 He can't alter his nature, and drive his mind and desires and likings and dislikings in just what- ever channel he pleases. I have seen a theory somewhere propounded to the effect that it is impossible to be genuinely in love with two ob- jects at the same time. But that is all bosh. For if ever a fellow was desperately and seri- ously and irreparably in love with a pair of heaven's own angels, I am he. Very well, it is wrong — by all the rules and regulations of society I am condemned — every one condemns me — I condemn myself, and yet there it remains nevertheless an unsophisticated fact. Here I am, to myself and by myself I say and know it is a great impropriety ; and yet every faculty and feeling, and every instinct that I possess, is urging me into it ; while there isn't an atom of any counteracting principle about me to render m J the smallest assistance to get free of it." " Well, but you must get free of it some how or other, my good fellow," said Philip. " What can you do ? — you can't marry both." "Phil," continued Simon, " you are as wise as the world generally. They can all tell us what can't be done ; but the thing I want to lAWOHA- )r, my dear fel- returned Simon. I thought I had lat point already, lave forgotten all sleep since ; but Bh in mj memory "upon my word if it hangs about shake it off— you » 1 last night, I be- forgot to tell me fact is, Phil, you that this is some- >n't think I am matters of tl;is ive lost mind and everything else, a fellow do? He re his mind and ngs in just what- ve seen a theory I effect that it is ove with two ob- hat is all bosh, irately and seri- 3 with a pair of . Very well, it d regulations of y one condemns t there it remains [fact. Here I am, ind know it is a ery faculty and lat I possess, is isn't an atom of out me to render ;et free of it." 3 of it some how Philip. "What both." you are as wise can all tell us liing I want to OF SIMON SEEK. 128 know is, what can be done. I believe it has occurred to me, perhaps more than once, as you sagely observe, that I can't marry both. But unfortunately I am afraid that is the malady, and not the medicine." " I should have thought Lizy Plumley would have been an invulnerable antidote," said Phi- lip. " Against a whole world," replied Simon ; " but this is the one great exception. It is a strange infatuation, that has lasted already for seven years ; and I am sure I can't tell where or when it will end. With my present state of mind, I can no more give up the one than the other. Good Heavens I we are strange creatures 1" By this time the sleigh-bells were heard close behind them, and the conversation drop- ped. It was about noon when they drove into the ' city, over the bridge, down into the lower town, and drew-up at Mr. Sorftish's establishment, which was a somewhat extensive store at the upper end of Rideau St. A small regiment of the knights of the counter came instantly to the rescue of the vehicles and horses, and to redeem the bets which they had contracted among themselves during the morning upon the daring feat of being the first to say the gentle thing to the prettiest feminine fragment of the party, which they had been led to expect would con- tain at least one decided attraction ; but when they found themselves called upon to confront the direct blaze of three, and three such be- witching little non-suches as their daring had never dreamt of, they found their gallantry oos- ing-out at the very end of their toes, and their respective bets from the loop-holes of their pockets. But there was more than this to lose : there was caste to be lost — caste among their brethren — their reputation on the marrow- bone of their existence was at stake ; and as this conviction with all its concomitant horrors presented itself to their minds, the three fore- most among the gallants rushed forward, and, " Fine day this for sleighing, miss," said the first, selecting Lizy from the trio, with that short impressive jerk of the upper half of the system which, behind a counter, signifies, " Thank you ; much 'bliged. Is there anything more ? — noth- ing more ? — thank you." " Hope you've had a pleasant ride, miss," followed-up the second, and pronouncing in favor of Alice. " And what do you think of our city, miss ?'' chimed-in the third in favor of Clara. But at this point their lights were all totally extinguished by a fellow-gallant — the quietest and the least to be feared of the whole lot as they had thought, and who had refused to bet — who came forward, and, quietly putting them all in the background, proceeded to busy himself with the "buffaloes" and to take the entire ar- rangements into his own hands ; while he re- marked, with a stroke of unaffected grace in which the whole of the lady occupants of both sleighs were comprehended, " Ladies, permit me to say that Ottawa must feel proud of the honor that is conferred upon it this day. A few minutes ago, it was, in my opinion, one of the most unattractive places in the world, but now — now — " " It's one of the most attractive," cried Phi- lip, as he sprang from his horse. " Bravo, Lindsay I You have evidently a just apprecia- tion of the ' best and latest attractiops,' sir." The girls of course smiled and laughed and replied to all remarks, and did the pretty and interesting to any extent ; but this, however, didn't settle the matter of the bets between the gallants, which remained a subject of perpe- tual feud and dispute for the next six months, each one, of course, maintaining that the one addressed by him was the beau — or rather the belle ideal of perfection, to the exclusion of the rest. Philip at once took the girls under his wing and led the way to a capacious apartment at the back of the store, where Mrs. Sorftish was in readiness to receive them. There was very little change in Mrs. Sorftish beyond that which would be naturally and le- gitimately the result of seven yeivcu' advance- ment—or, perhaps more correctly, retrogression — towards the grave-end of mortality ; and she received her guests in a small whirlwind of affectionate excitement, declaring that really she never would or could have believed it. "Oh, Mrs. Plumley," said Mrs. Sorftish, when she and her friend were left alone up stairs ; and our lady readers will readily imagine that it was not many minutes before that indispensible necessity to the future peace of mind and quietude of both for the remainder of the day, was contrived and arrived at. " Oh, Mrs. Plumley, this is kind of you. Isn't he a dear kind fellow — Philip ? Whatever would have become of me if it hadn't been for him 1 So weak as I am, too. Constitutional, Mrs. Plumley — I never was strong from a child." "But I think you are much stronger than you were when you first came to Canada, child," said Mrs. Plumley. 124 LIFE AND ADVENTURES •' Well, I may look so," lighed Mrs. Sorftiih ; *' bat when anything is constitutional — inward, yon know— and then see what a terrible shock I hare had to sustain. Oruel, crnel, Joslah I and never to hear anything of him all this time. Think what a shock, Mrs. Plamley. If he had only come back and said he was sorry, and would try and make amends, or anything at all, I'm sure I eould hare forgiven him. But never to hear a word — not so much as a syllable, when he didn't know whether I was alive or dead, or whatever had become of me I Oh it has been a terrible shock, Mrs. Plumley." This of course involved the production of the everlasting cambric, and the total submersion of the countenance therein for the uninterrup- ted space of three minutes ; during which Mrs. Plumley remained silent, for she felt that it was a subject on which her experience would scar- cely warrant her in offering a suggestion, " Oh, it is a very strange world," continued Mrs. Sorftisb, the allotted time of lamentation being elapsed; "very, very strange. What a very pretty girl your new visitor is, Mrs. Plumley." " What, Alice ?" said Mrs. Plumley. " Oh yes ; and she is such a dear creature. You will be so delighted with her when you know her." " What a fine young mar* Simon is growing to be, too ; and so clever," added Mrs. Sorftisb, twisting the cambric about her fingers with a nervousness indicative of an over-pressure of ideas. " And Lizy too," she continued, spread- ing' the handkerchief out and casting a look of compassionate concern into its centre, with her head thrown thoughtfully on one side, " how good and how very lady-like I But aint you really almost afraid (pray don't think me silly or unkind) that, that — but then Simon is very fond of her, is he not, Mrs. Plumley ?" " Oh, whatever do you mean ?" said Mrs. Plumley. " Really how strange you talk, Mrs. Sorftish." " Oh, I didn't mean to say there was anvthinr^, you know, Mrs. Plumley," returned Mrs. Sorftish. " But really things are so very strange ; and do you know — it might have been imagination — but I thought I observed — but then, perhaps, it wasn't. I am afraid my troubles have made me very suspicious, Mrs. Plumley, and then I am 80 very weak, and constitutional weakness is the worst of all weakness, you know, Mrs. Plumley." " Oh, I do wish you v^ould tell me what you mean," said Mrs. Plumley, upon whom a new light began to steal, that made her feel for the moment very uneasy. " You talk so very strange." " Well, never mind now," said Mrs. Sorftish. *' Perhaps it is very wrong and silly of me ; I dare say it is ; but then we can't help our thoughts, you know; and things are so strange. But there, they will be wondering what has become of us. Let us go down ; and pray don't think anything more about it, Mrs. Plumley,— I dare say it is all nonsense." Nonsense or not, she had awakened a new train of reflection in the uiind of her friend, which, followed by her own recollections and observations, effectually destroyed all her quiet and enjoyment for that day, and for many days to come. " Well now, then, what do you say to a drire round the town and a run-ovnr to the Ghaudidre Falls, eh 7" said Philip after dinner, and when the whole party had expressed themselves in perfect readiness for anything. *' We shall just get back in time for a cup of tea, and then, you know, in the evening comes off the grand— here, Plumley, what paper is that you are read- ing?" " The — the — let me see," replied Mr. Plum- ley, turning the paper about, " The Bytown Gazette." " Ay, well, that has it in. Have the good- ness to turn to— let me see, thank you, I'll just read it to you, then. I fancy it will be rather amusing. Here you are. ' Temperance Hall, Monday, Nov. 28th, Indian Entertain- ment. A monster troupe of the famous Tribe of Dog-ribbed Indians from the Rocky Mountains, headed by their great chief, Chachinhawchaca- chawachaga, will have the honor of appearing in the town in their wonderful entertainment, illustrative of the customs, manners, and eccen- tricities of the wild tribes of the north ; intro- ducing all their peculiar and beautiful melodies, including the great War Song, the Love Ditty, by the Indian Maidens, and the Death Dh:ge over the Warrior's grave. Doors open at half- past seven, to commence at eight. Admission, &c. kc' There, I think that promises to be not so bad," continued Philip, returning the paper to Mr. Plumley. " At any rate it is a novelty, and we don't get many novelties out this way." The girls thought that the very least it could be would be " delightful," and their expecta- tions were all at once arranged on the " tip toe " of excitement, and a general declaration was forthwith made to the effect that not one of them would be easy until they had seen the great chief Chachin— , &o. &c. !:i If' iiii f on talk BO rttj kid Mrs. Sorftlth. d sillj of me ; I can't help our things are so [1 be wondering B go down ; and re about it, Mrs. lonaense." wakened a new id of her friend, 9coIlectionB and yed all her quiet id for many days ou Bay to a drire to the Chaudidre nner, and when d themselTes in "We shall just !a, and then, you ofif the grand— lat you are read- iplied Mr. Plum- , "The Bytown Bare the good- thank yon, I'll iancy it will be . ' Temperance dian Entertain- famous Triue of >cky Mountains, achinhawchaca- lor of appearing entertainment, ners, andeccen- le north ; intro- lutiful melodies, the Love Ditty, le Death Dirge rs open at half- it. Admission, )mises to be not rning the paper I it is a novelty, IS out this way." ry least it could their expecta- in the " tip toe " leclaration was hat not one of had seen the OF SIMON SEEK.'"^ 135 The drive around, or rather through the town, was of course attended with all thoBe pleasurable emotions that usually accompany a drive of that sort ; for with three charming young girls and two charming young men in a Bleigh altogether, with the old folks all com- fortably packed (7)in another by themselves (not but what in this instance the " old folks" were a decided acquisition to the party), even such an ordinary place as Ottawa is, would neccB- sarily assume the character of enchanted terri- tory ; a delusion which almost resolved itself into reality with the glowing description with which Philip favored them as they drove from place to place, of the almost magic rise of the town from a small straggling collection of in- significant shanties — a fair specimen of which were still spread over the lower part of the town — Uf the important and prosperous-looking city that they then behold it. " Lor bless you," said Philip, as they glided over the canal bri^i^e to the upper town, " the rapidity with whicn this place has sprung into life would completely frighten our Old Country friends out of their seven senses. Look here now. You see that street running down there, and this, and the whole of that range of build- ings yonder 7 very well ; five years ago there wasn't a brick of it to be seen, not a solitary brick. Then look here, here is a range of buildings, solid stone, — ^you know there is no mistake about them, — and then look at the stores, something like stores, eh ? Very well, two years ago they weren't thought of. There is another block just like them, and another over there — literally wonderful, isn't it? In fact the whole of the Upper Town here has jumped up out of the earth by a sort of artifi- cial magic. Just comparatively a few years ago and we should have had the forest on each side of us by this time. That's the way they do things in this country." This was of course very wonderful and inter- esting, and elicited any amount of astonish- ment from the fair listeners, who of course re- garded it all as an extensive piece of magic, (oh, blessed poetry I) as Philip had intimated, and enjoyed it accordingly. But what was all this to those wonderful, those delightful, those loveiy Falls ? Long before they had arrived within flight of the handsome white bridge which stretches across them, the rumbling and mumbling which gradually grow deepttr and louder as they advanced, had done its work, and had set their eyes sparkling, and their ears tingling, and their voices ringing, and their tender little hearts leaping, in a manner which we can all imagine and appreciate, bnt none describe. But when they came in tall view of the rumbling monster— when they saw it come plunging along from the diBtance>— tear- ing and splashing and Irishing over the rocka ; now staying to hold a conflict with itself in thd deep ridges and cavities and excavations in its uneven bed; now dashing itself with reck- less fury against the blocks and ridges that impeded its head-long way ; now mumbling quietly along in a smooth stream by itself, and then boiling and raging and scampering away — tumbling down here and struggling up there, and then whirling on again with the great current— always rushing onward, always in a turmoil and conflision and commotion — never at rest — forever rolling down, and down and down, like a monster giant pursued to his de- struction, till it reaches the gorge that swallows all, and thundering, and rumbling, and tumbling and wailing and moaning, as it falls, plunges headlong together into the boiling gulf that yawns below. When they beheld all this, and ten times more, they, one and all, immediately passed through all the various transitions ftom delight to surprise, surprise to astonishment, astonishment to perfect bewilderment, and from perfect bewilderment into the last degree of ecstatic reverie, from which they had scarcely more than two thirds recovered by the time they had returned home ; and it was not until they had each partaken of not less than three cups of the sedative mixture which Mrs. Sorftish had presently laid before them| that their ex- citement had fairly abated, and tb<> falls had fliUen in their minds to anything like an ordi- nary level. At half-past seven the whole party again sallied forth and recrossed the bridge to the Upper Town, and made their way to the Tem- perance Hall, the scene of the grand evening's entertainment. Although they were there pretty early, the Hall was already beginning to fill pretty briskly, and they had a bit of a scramble to .q^et seated together in anything like a respe. table position. Long before the perfornance commenced, the place was full to the doors, and, to judge from the general appear- ance of the assemblage, which appeared upon the whole to be very respectably constituted, the expectation from the evening's amusement was of itself both entertaining and gratifying, and afforded the highest general satisfaction— in fact, so much so, that Philip, in the spirit of Barnum, put it to his friend whether, in the PL ■ft la- (# 126 LIFE AND ADVENTURES 1 !l •▼ent of tiie enterUinment'i proring a failure, thej migiit not be said to have receired the taW ▼alue of their money in the enjoyment they had derived f^om it in prospeotire. At precisely eight o'slock a movement was heard behind the glazed calico — which formed a partition from the platform to the tide-wall, and loreened the door of the ante-room from view — and Chachinhawcbaeachawacbaga, the great chief, vaulted on to the platform. His appearance was ce. tainly anything but impos- ing, when considered in conjunction with the formidable appendage which he carried about with him for a name. Ft ) comprised a very small, slim, unchief-like litUebody, surmounted by a thin, spare, and equall/ unchief-like little head, including a bright vermillion counte- nance, and a pair of quick, rambling, telescopic eyes. He was decorated ii a chintz " leopard- skin" skirt, thickly interlace 1 with goose-quills and tinsel, a piece of the saiiie material being thrown loosely over his should ^r, to convey the idea of a hunter in full chase. His arms and legs were ostensibly naked— the xequired effect being arrived at by means of vermillion " flesh- ings," while the whole was crowned with a sweeping head-dress of ostrich feathers, which rose out somewhere from the spine and to>7ered- up in a graceful cone above the head, and, after arriving at the height of about two feet six inches, turned majestically over and streamed down again until italmostswept the ground at his heels : in fact, take him all in all, he was about as ornamental and purely conventional an Indian as could very well have been manu- factured, and we doubt if Mr. Barnum himself could have suggested an improvement. His appearance was hailed with a tremendous burst of enthusiasm from all corners of the Hall ; and he stood shooting out his band and grinning, in a manner sufficiently comical to have belonged to any known or unknown tribe on the face of the earth. When the enthusiasm had suffi- ciently subsided, he came forward, threw-up his hand in a grandiloquent style, and pro- ceeded to address the ceiling. "Laddy shemen," he said, screaming-out the wordc at the top of his voice, and twisting his face into a variety of uncivilized contortions, " sal hav pies to p'sent si mann'r cust'm of si great Injin Tribes of si risin sun of si Rocky Hount'n of si great nor-wes sou you. Fus sal p'sent si Injin Mar'ge wi si Injin Majin. Pheugh I Wheugh 1" The thrilling effect of this speech upon the audience has perhaps never been equalled. All the orators and wits and stage-trampers that ever were, would have incontinently vanished into nothingness could they have beheld the burst of enthusiasm that followed upon this simple mutilation of the vernacular. And, to be sure, it was sufficiently novel and incom* prehensible to have convulsed any congrega- tion of reasonable beings that was ever thrown together — the " pheugh wheugh " of the con- clusion being avowedly equal to any five hun- dred pages of wit and humour that could pos- sibly be compiled. The chief disappeared for a moment after this, while the effects of b's debut were subsiding ; when he agp.in came forward, followed by the whole of his " monster troupe," which consisted of a whole tribe of three souls, including two Indian maidens— who were attired in the chintz leopard-skin skirtti, vermillion fleshings, and a gold band round their heads — and a warrior of rather small stature, who was supposed to be painted and accoutred in readiness for the war- path, although his general appearance and ef- fect was very much more suggestive of a merry- andrew in au equestrian arena. But neither their limited numbers nor their suspicious ap- pearance had any effect in diminishing the en- thusiasm of their audience. From the manner of thjir coming, it at once became evident that they were perfectly competent to leap and yelp and howl, and to distort their bodies to an ex- tent 1;hai must have carried satisfaction before it through any audience in the world. The first illustration of the customs of the wonderful tribe — the Indian Marriage — consisted of about ten minutes leaping and yelping about the platform, knocking rudely against each other, poking one another indiscriminately in the ribs and other tender portions of the anatomy, roll- ing down at full length upon the boards — and, in fact, a free indulgence in.every practical ab- surdity that their abundantly fruitful minds could suggest : to all of which the audience responded with peals of laughter and shouts and hurrahs ; the more they yelped and thumped and hooted, the more the audience roared and applauded ; and the more the audience roared, the more the others yelped and thumped about, until the entertainment seemed to have resolved itself into a mutual contest between the audience and the troupe as to who should be the first to bring the Temperance Hall to the ground. But when the wedded pair were ultimately carried off the stage, tied back to baok and with their heels elevated considerably above their heads, then was the climax —then was the great mys- ■ti l! i I' Ii' e-trampera that lently yaniahed lave beheld the )wed upon this cuUr. And, to rel and inooin> any congrega- raa ever tbrown (h " of the con« to any five hun- that could poi- oment after thia, ivere aubaiding; followed by the which conaisted , including two red in the chintz fleshinga, and a ind a warrior of auppoaed to be neaa for the war- ;)carance and ef- itive of a merry- la. But neither r Buapicioua ap- linishing the en- 'rom the manner ,me evident that to leap and yelp bodiea to an ez- tisfaction before vorld. The firat the wonderful insisted of about ping about the inst each other, ately in the ribs e anatomy, roU- le boards — and, iry practical als- fruitful minda h the audience r and shouts and and thumped nee roared and lUdience roared, thumped about, to have resolved een the audience d be the first to le ground. But timately carried and with their )ve their heads, the great mya* OF SIMON SEEK. 127 tery of human end 'ranee solved— they could atand no more, and they therefore forthwith doubled themaelves up and roared for their very Uvea. ' After thia the two maideni appeared by themaelves and aang the " Love Ditty." Of courae, no muaio waa expected and therefore no one waa disappointed that none waa pro- duced—the maidena' voicea being, like them- aelvea, remarkably maaculine in the effect, and, inatead of the " soft warbling of the Indian maid," sounding very much like the heavy bass of civilization. But it possessed the chief merit of being thoroughly inimitable and unintellgible, and was consequently vociferously encored and pronounced to be completely beyond everything, as most undoubtedly it was, and no inconsider- able distance either. The next illustration in- troduced the deliberations of the tribe at the " Council Fire," which appeared to be a com- plete conflagration, and blazed away to such an extent that by the time they had stamped and roared and brandished-about the last argu- ment, which appeared to proceed entirely from the tomahawks in their hands, and, like true warriors, had leaped off the platform, maidens and all, over one another's heads, there must have been but a very small amount of breath remaining in their argumentative bodies. "There, what do you think of that, sir?" said an excitable-looking individual who oc- cupied a seat immediately behind the Plumleys, leaning forward and addressing Mr. Plumley himself, as the first part terminated and the tribe retired for a little respite from their bois- terous exertions. " That's something like In- dian life, I believe, eh ?" Mr. Plumley was observed to indulge in a peculiar facial distortion, as though he were endeavouring to suppress a violent impulse from the risible faculties, as this remark was put to him ; while he winked aside to Simon, and otherwise enlightened him with the assis- tance of his elbow, as he replied, " Delightful. iivcrything so down-right natural, too. They act'ly leap and tumble and knock each other about as if they was born to it. li just shows what man is in a state of nature. I s'pose these are real natural-born Indians ?" " Oh, the genuine thing itself, you know," replied the excitable individual ; " they come down from the Rocky Mountains, you know. Here you have Indian life in all its phases. There was the marriage, you saw, the chiefs at the Council Fire, the preparations for war, and in fact the whole thing Juat as it ia, — Indian life, in fact,— the whole thing brought before you." "They're all genuine Indiana, of oourie," •aid Simon, paaaing Mr. Plumley'a telegram o. to Philip. " Oh," aaid the other contemptuonaly, " did you never aee an Indian before, air ? Hark at their language." " Ay, to be aure," returned Simon. " That is certainly unintelligible enough for anything. I auppose this is just the sort of entertainment now that takes with an audience gener- ally ?" "Nothing like it," replied the other, " nothing like it. Thia ia aplendid, you know. Here's aomething we can underatand— aomething to be learned, you know. This ia about *he beat entertainment we've ever had in thia town." "Indeed," said Philip. "You have had some celebrated people here, too, at different times." . ' T'V " Oh, bother your celebretiea," returned the other. " Qive us aomething we can understand — something practical. What's the good of celebrity? we don't understand it. We are practical men, and we must have the practical thing." " Then, it atrikea me," aaid Simon, " that the Indians have hit the right nail on the head. They deserve every praise." From some cause or other, it was evident that the w hole male portion of the Plumley party, between whom a variety of private telegrams had been passing during the evening, were in a high state of excitement about something con- nected with the entertainment, above and be- yond what was produced by the performance itself; and even Timothy, who had taken a side- seat by himself against the wall, was observed at every successive appearance of the chief upon the platform, to bury his face in his hands and fly off at once into silent convulsions. The second part was just a successful repe- tition of the first under different titles ; and when it was completed, and the highly gratified and delighted audience rose to depart, a hurried consultation took place between Mr. Plumley and his male friends, which terminated in his whispering to his wife and her companions, " Don't be frightened, children, I'm going-in to see the chief. I fancy I know him, notwith- standing his long name. You all remain quietly here." "Why, bless me, George dear," said Mrs. Plumley, " you know that strange — — " in LIFE AND ADVENTURES 1:1 I If I Hi- « ■ i ««rn b« baek directtj," nid Mr. Plnmley. « Not a word till I return." In another moment he was behind the calico •creen and knocking with hie stick at the door of the ante-room, which appeared to be fastened. It was presentlj opened rttj cautious' ' bjr one •f the maidens, who said, « Whoo "; but as Mr. Plumlej didn't understand the remark suffi- ciently to reply, he pushed-open the door, burst into the room, and, rushing-up to the chief and ■elEing his h.tnd, exclaimed, " Why, mj di-ar Mr. Kwack, I'm so glad to ■ee you !" " What, what, what 1" cried the chief, retiring ft few paces to take a better survey of the in- truder. "Why, is it contumaciously pos- sible ! What, Plumley I Plumley I My old per- tinacious friend, Plumley! Good heavens I here's an elucidation t Well, here ive are, here we are, you see. This is the sacridotal eluci- dation that we have contumaciously arrived at I" "Why, Mr. Albosh!" cried Mr. Plumley, seizing-hold of one of the maidens, who had retired as he first entered, but who no sooner heard his name pronounced by her chief than ■he came forward, and, maiden like, rushed foirly into his (Plumley's) arms. " Plumley 1 Plumley I" said the maiden, "I scarcely know how to express the overflow of fiseling which this reunion calls forth. Believe me, Plumley, it is something more than a baga- telle." " I'm sure I am delighted to see you, and so will they all be," said Mr. Plumley. " Are they all well ?" said the maiden. " All wonderful," replied Mr. Plumley. " Plumley," said the chief, coming forward, with a tear trickling down his cheek. " Must they know our degradation ? Stay, I see it in your look — they are in the hall. We never look among the audience. But, Plumley, you behold us the unwilling victims of a sacredotal destiny, led even to assume an unnatural patronymic and to disguise our own native vernacular by a concatination of inscrutable vicissitudes. Plumley, we've tried native talent in all its multifarious ramifications : they wont have it. The fact is, the whole race are so in- scrutably cadaverous, that — hark ! there's some one at the door. Pheugh wheugh, ching cha- haw 1" shouted the chief, motioning the warrior to the door. " Excuse me, Plumley," he added in a whisper, " we are obliged to keep-up ap- pearances." As the warrior opened the door it was quietly pushed in his face, and two extremely oadaver- oui-looking individuals foreed their way Into the room, and stood at a little distance nodding and smiling on the chief and his subjects gene- rally. "How d'ye dewV" said the foremost indi- vidual, in the the rich nasal twang that had never once got fairly out of Mr. Plumley's ears since the first time it had got into them on board the Wanderer before Quebec. " Con- sider I'm tarnal glad t' see yeou doing s'well," added Mr. Slicker, before the others had suffi- ciently recovered their surprise to reply. " But guess, Britishers, yeou don't suck us in so mighty slick as all 'hat " "Why, if I don't mistake," said the chief, stepping forward, "you're the Yankee sharper." " Shouldn't wonder if you find us a bit cute," said Mr. Slicker, nodding approvingly. "Well, what can we do for you, pray?" said the chief. " Sh' say yoou've had pretty smart takings to-night, friend," returned Mr. Slicker, " Con- sider we should like to come-in for sharings, eh, Lecute," he added, turning to his companion. " Ouess that's fair," said Mr. Lecute. " Oh,you do,do you,"said the chief, beginning to throw himself into something like a war like attitude. " What do you think of this, Albosh ?" " Confound their impudence," suid the maiden, manifesting some very unmaiden: / uymptoms. " I tell you what, my Yankee fr.Cids, you'll get nothing here." " Ouess there'll be a splurge then," said Mr. Slicker. " By thunder there will," added Mr. Lecute. Mr. Plumley here whispered to his fViendt and then retired. In a few minutes he returned followed by Simon and Philip, the latter of whom, after saluting the chief and his maiden friend, presented himself full in the front of the Yankee agent, and enquired, " Do you remeuiber me, sir ?" "Ouess I do," replied Mr. Slicker, running his eyes over him with the utmost deliberation, as though he were examining a natural curiosity. " B'lieve I sold your brother a neat little plot of land some seven or eight years ago. Con- sider your name's Sorftish." Philip was completely nonplussed by this consummate coolness. He had some faint idea that at the first sight of him the Yankee scoun- drels would have turned tail and taken to their heels. But it was very evident that a tendency to any such weakness had never entered into their composition. " Well," said Philip, " there is an amount heirwaj into tance nodding luhjecti g«ne- roremoat indi- rang that had Plumley'i eart into them on ebec. " Con- doing ■'well," liers had auffi- ) reply. " But luck us in 10 laid the chief, tnkee eharper." i us a bit cute," ringly. )u, pray?" said smart takings licker, " Oon- :or sharings, eh, is companion. Lecute. shief, beginning lika a wax like fthis.AlboBh?" uid the maiden, in'/ bjmptoms. ft.e.ids, you'll then," said Mr. ed Mr. Lecute. to his friends ites he returned the latter of ind his maiden the front of the iicker, running >st deliberation, itural curiosity, neat little plot ars ago. Oon- )lus8ed by this some faint idea Yankee scoun- id taken to their that a tendency er entered into i is an amount OF SIMON SEEK. of cool assurance about you that is certainly refhishing. But nerertheless I think you will see the propriety of quitting, not only this room, but the town, as quietly and quickly as pes- iible." " Ouess not," said Mr. Slicker. " I suppose you are aware that there is some- thing like a law in Canada for swindlers and ■harpers?" said Philip. '* Sh' say I should be about the last p«rson in the world to riolate the law tew," replied Mr. Slicker with a tinge of virtuous pride en- oiroling his eyebrows. " If you refer to that little transaction with your brother, consider that was a legal transaction— not much mis- take 'bout th^t." " Why, confound your insolence," cried Phi- lip beginning to lose his temper. "We will soon see how — " " Stay," said Simon, who had been conversing apart with his fViends, coming forward and laying bis hand upon Philip's arm. " What are your terms for lea/ing this place quietly, Mr. Slicker?" " Why, what do you mean. Seek ?" said Phi- lip. " You wouldn't make any terms with them would you ?" Simon motioned to his friend that it was the only course. " Consideryou're a man of business, stranger," said Mr. Slicker addressing himself to Simon. " I sh' say we could do with 'bout fifty dollars, Lecute, eh ? " Fifty dollars 1" cried Kwack. '• What, are you contumaciously nun cumpust 7 What do you think we've taken 7" " A pretty good haul tew," replied Mr Slick- er. " Think we counted the heads, eh, Le- cute ?" " No mistake, guess," returned Lecute ; "splen- dacious house — fact *.bat." After a rather warm dispute, in which the dog-ribbed chief and his maiden friend began to grow dogged and war-like, a compromise arrangement was arrived at, by which Mr. Slicker agreed to take thirty dollars for i ing his peace, magnanimoudy offering at the ■ame time to liquor the whole company out of the aame ; but as this generosity was respeot- (\illy declined, he took bis friend by the arm, and leaving his best wisftes behind him, depart- ed on his way the most meek and inofltensive of mortals. " Well, all I can say is I wouldn't have don* it," aaid Philip aa ■oon aa he waa gone. t " But, my dear fellow, there waa no alternc* tive," aaid Simon. " He is too much of a sharper to be frightened easily. He know of course that you could have no hold on him in your brother's affair, because as he says it waa a " legal" transaction. And there is no doubt he could have raised a very disagreeable dis- turbance in the town for our friends here. But, however, it appears he is pretty considerably sold after all." « Sold I" cried the Chief. <' Pertinaoioasly entrapped in his own snare. What do yon think I've given him, Albosh? Why, that twenty-dollar Yankee bill — you know — on the Bogus Bank — that was pronounced to be not worth tuppence. Ha, ha, ha I that's what I call a categorical conglomeration of sacridotal rapacity. After all, you see he haa only walked-off with ten dollars." This was of course received as a sublime joke, and the whole tribe, pale-faces and all, enjoyed it heartily. '< Well, I suppose you are soon able to change your appearance, chief, to something a little more Christian-like, eh ?" said Philip. " Change I" returned the Chief; " in half an hour from this, every vestige of this tinsel gar- nishing will be gone, and then ' Richard will be himself again.' " " There is my address then," said Philip, "just on the other side of the bridge. We will give you half an hour. •Bring your friends— we shall be happy to see you all. Knock at the side-door, and for the present adieu. Re- member, all of you, and in half an hour." ito LIFK AND AnVENTUllKS -¥'* •■ *« * • 11 .4 t> CIUrTEU XXII. i. WHICH IB BOTH RBTltOSPEOTIVB AND PROSI'KOTIVB. '**" ! l| In about hftlf an hour after tlie party had ar- rirod home, the expected knock came at the door, and I'hilip hurried down liiniself to admit his viiiitori, who had certainly undorgoae a wonderful motamorphoiii lince he loft tlieni at the Hall. Mr. Kwack waa to all intentR and purpoiei " himielf again " without subtraotion or addition ; and hii friend Alboah — in the very identical midBumraer Buit of bygone years, fVesh, sprightly, and warm, notwithstarding the state of the thermometer— looked like a resus- citation from tlio jmst, the very foreshadowing and prototype of the light of other days : and he created his sensation accordingly. They were accompanied by one only of thoir Indian followers, whom Mr. Kwack iutroducec^. after the first burst of salutions had a little subsided, In the followinr* speech : " Friends, al'iw mo to introduce to you my esteemed and reo<,>ucted friend, Mr. Henry Dale, and, in doing so, you will allow me to say, that, notwithstanding he has been thrown on evil days and pursued by adversi- ties, he is a gentleman of learning, ability, and literary perspicacity of the very highest order. He ^as condescended, through adverse circum- stances, to take the advcrtiHing(ir|>iirlment and general private superinlciidtMicc of our enter- tainment ; and I may say that we have all con- sidered ourselves highly honored in having bis society and services. Friends, Mr. Henry Dale." The object of these remarks, who it soon be- came evident had no'appeared upon the pUt- form, and who listened to Mr. Kwack's obser- vations with some degree of uneasiness, at once became an object of marked interest with the whole of the party. He was a young man of not more than twenty one or two, of a slight but gracefully proportioned figure, with a slightly effeminate but perhaps the more strikingly handsome countenance, in which intellect and urbanity seemed to struggle for supremacy. He was well and even fashionably attired, and, in the calm composure and unaf- fected ease of his manner, it was impossible not to perceive the results of both education and a perfect familiarity with the usages Oi polite society ; and he was at onoe regarded by all present with the utmost respect, if not, by the gent•• li«T«d that you were such a thorough genius. We of course knew you almost the moment you appeared, and I must say ttom flmt to last I wu astonished both by the Intimate acqualn- tanoe with human nature displayed in your entertainment throughout, and the dej'erity with which you enacted your part ; for, rcrtaln- ly, a more unintelligible or Irrational i oing in every word and action I never beheld, which is of course your highest praise, because, as you are evidently thoroughly aware, if you had been any more Intelligible or rational In your performances, you would have been Just so much the less acceptable to your audience." "Friends," said Mr. Kwack, rising and but- loning-up his coat In evident preparation for an oratorical display, " I fuel that I am called to make a remark. I feel that at least a brief explanation of the unpropltlous circumstances under which 1 and my friend again appear in your midst is pertinaciously doinauded and cali- od-for. And as this Involves a brief sketch of our itiuerant liistorysinco that woll-remcmbcrod day on which wo took our last farewell and commenced our perambulating course, 1 crave your indulgence. As you well know, we were then allied toaserenadian troupe of homogene- ous celebrity. With tliem we wandered per- tinaciously from town to town, from city to city, from State to State, with success to-day, disaster tomorrow — now revelling in categorical abun- dance, and anon pursued by all the conflicting concatinatLons of disastrous vicissitude. But nevertheless in the aggregate, 1 may say, that fortune was systematically propitious, and that j the inscrutable unravellings of our fortuitous destiny was fundamentally homogeneous. In this way we perambulated through the leng'h and breadth of the land, until we ultimately ar- rived at New Orleans. Here fortune deserted us, and loft us in a sterile category of imbicility and ruin. DisafToction crept into the very heart of the camp, our troupe was dibbandod, our mutual co-operation had drawn to a pe- riod, and, thrown upon our own resources with- out means, paraphernalia, or patrimony of any kind, we had for a time to contest against the direst concatination of circumstances in an uncongenial clime. While here," continued Mr. Kwack, looking towards Mr. Sorftish, " we fell-in with — well perhaps I should not mention it. Should I mention it, Albosh?" " Perhaps not now," said Mr. Albosh. " really Mr. Kwaik," said Mrs. Sorftish, did you see Mr. " " Bicuse me, pray," eontinued Ur. Kwack. " At any time we can have but Utile to say oii the subject, from Its peculiar nature, but sufflot It to say now, that we saw bim. Leaving New Orleans — which I may obeerve Is remarkabU for nothing but heat and niggers— we tramped our way on to Bt. Louis, from which city w« had presently to fly for our lives in consequenc* of a lecture which I had prepared and attempt* ed to deliver, entitled' Universal Kmauolpation, or the Everlasting Rights of Humanity.' And certainly our own individual emancipation f^om the blood-thirsty fanatics that pursued ui was something miraculous ; but the most he> terogeneouB category of the lot was to see the contumacious niggers themselves actually Join* Ing In the chase. I thought there was some* thing rich about that, to be sure. But as fo'. tune would have it, while we were wandv>rin^ along, existing ft-om day to day .in chance and at* mospheric air— which diet lot mo tell you is rather hot and i ,;ht with the thermometer at about a hundred k'ld ton in the sluulc — we ao* ciduntly overtook a monbtor travelling circus that was performing through the country. Necessity impelled us, and wo therefore at once entered into an engagement, uncongenial as It was — myself as first clown and equestrian gest* r, while Albosh took the great Antipodean feat of walking on the coiling, hoels uppermost, — which I may remark is achieved by means of an ingenous contflvance of his own, of hooks, rings, and tapestry. This engagement lasted with fluctuating success for upwards of three years ; when we again found ourselves thrown upqp our Individual resources in the well-known city of Philadelphiu. For two years did wo struggle here against all the thousand ills that flesh is heir to, when, and proud I am to be able to state it, we had the honor and good fortune to become acquainted with Mr. Dale. In explanation, he will "jrbaps allow mo to state, that having been Ui ivcn by adverse neces- sity to take to lecturing for a livelihood, which, however, from the causes which you have this night had illustrated, did not succeed, and both Albosh and myself having boon singu- larly struck with the eloquence and wit which was therein displayed, my friend at once intro- duced himself and offered a suggestion, to the effect, that Mr. Dale should write a humorous entertainment in which we could all three take part, and that we should co-operate together. That suggestion was condescendingly and graciously adopted. And now," said Mr. Kwack, unbuttoning bis coat and drawing him- 182 LIFE AND ADVENTURES h ' I iiiii'^ 11 m ' ijll ■'% 1.' m ^■'" ill aelf np to bis full altitude, " let me do justice to the genius and perspicacity that character- ized that production." <' There, there, that will do Kwack," said Ur. Dale. " Let me saj," continued Mr. Kwack empha- tically, "that that entertainment has been heard, and seen, and road by men of high stand- ing and ability in the difibrent towns through which we passed, and that they bare one and all unanimously pronounced it to be as genuine a compilation of wit, humour, and satirical profoundity as ever came before them in any shape or form whatsoerer. And without at- tempting to bring my own perspicacity in juxtaposition with such a transcendent produc- tion, that you may be able yourselves to form ar. idea of its categorical aierit, I would suggest, since I presume we have met here this evening for a little amusement, that Mr. Albosh and myself should give you, as well as we are able, a few illustrations from its irresistable portrait- ures." " No, no, no," cried Mr. Dale. " Oh, yes, yes, yes," cried all the ladies of the party. " We shall all be highly delighted, I am sure," said all the gentlemen. " I am proud to bear you say so," said Mr. Kwack. " But," he continued, resuming his nar- rative, "did it succeed? Was it contumaci- ously possible to make the eadaverous incom- prehensibilities of human ambiguity to compre- hend so much as the perspicacious witticism of a solitary line ? No. The masses pertinaciously rejected it. And after trying it in city i^ter city, we were obliged reluctantly to consign it to an inscrutable oblivion. This led our friend, Mr. Dale, to the framing of the t ntertainment which you have witnessed this evening ; and which — although I believe it was devised more out of indignation than anything else, I believe you will all agree with me is a powerful and profound elucidation of philosophical research. Friends, I have now laid before you the catego- rical fluctuation of events that have impelled us through the whole paraphernalia of our wanderings ; and I trust that the unmitigated concatination is such as to redeem and exone- rate your humble servants from any semblance of impropi ety or duplicity that the ignominous assumption of the barbarous incongruities of the Indian character might have suggested to your perspicacious minds. And now, if my friend Albosh is willing, and with your acquies- cence, we will do ourselves the honor to intro- duce to you one or two of the powerful sketohM from life and character from the pen of our es- teemed and respected fViend." " I can only say," said Mr. Albosh coming forward and gradually falling into stage atti- tude, as if he did it by the mere force of custom, " that all that so poor a man as Albosh is can do shall be done freely." The company all removed to one end of the room, the table was drawn from the centre, and, notwithstanding some deprecatory remarks from Mr. Dale, which the unmanimous voice of the party however very soon succeeded in rul- ing out of order, the friends at once threw themselves into action and commenced. The performance consisted of a series of sketches from life, of some of the most eccentric charac- ters of both men and women ; and it was not long before their audience were completely convulsed with laughter, and became almost as ungovernable as they had been in the hall an hour before ; for while both the performers evinced a thorough appreciation of their parts, and displayed the most consummate powers of mimicry, the profusion of wit and humour that tumbled out in all directions, stroke upon stroke, until each character was wound-up with a complete explosion, was entirely irresistable. The girls, and the party generally, of course took the wit and the action and the mimicry as an inseparable whole, and laughed and en- joyed it in proportion to its spontaneous effect upon their risible faculties, as all audiences do ; but Simon, who had already taken a conside- rable fancy to the author,and had been extreme- ly anxious to bear his production, regarded it from a very different point of view; and although he laughed as heartily as the rest, he assumed the position of a critic, and weighed the com- position throughout upon its own individual merits. And he was not long in discovering, that, taking it for what it was, it was possessed of merits of no ordinary character ; that the wit was both refined, pointed, and original ; that the characters were selected with good taste and judgment, and drawn to the life; and above all,that there was nothing forced or over- drawn or meagre in any one of the sketches from the first to the last. He was highly delighted with the perform- ance of course, and, when it was concluded, applauded it generously and sincerely as it de- served ; and his interest in his new acquaint- ance began rapidly to increase from that mo- ment. But had his attention been directed to Mr. Dale himself, instead of to this production OF SIMON SEEK. 133 'erftil sketohat pen of our M- Ibosh coming nto stoge »tti- irce of custom, Albosh is can one end of the he centre, and, atory remarks limous Toice of cceeded in rul- at once threw nmenced. The ries of sketches icentric charac- md it was not 'ere completely icame almost as n in the hall an the performers m of their parts, smate powers of md humour that 8, stroke upon s wound-up with rely irresistable. (rally, of course ind the mimicry aughed and en- ontaneous effect ill audiences do ; taken a conside- ad been extreme- ion, regarded it jw; and although rest, he assumed reighed the com- own individual in discovering, it was possessed ter ; that the wit i original ; that with good taste the life; and ig forced or over- of the sketches ith the perform- , was concluded, incerely as it de- is new acquaint- se from that mo- been directed to ■ this production of his humourous genius, it is difficult to say what kind of turn that interest might have taken. For he would then have observed that he (Mr. Dale) bad become all at once peculiarly alive to some of the same influences as himself with regard to Alice, — that is to say, that his eoul was fired with admiration, and to a certain extent spell-bound. ye wits, and geniuses, and sages I how ye tumble-down before the shrine of a pretty face I Well, well ; it may not be so great a fall after all ; for behind a pretty face there is perchance enshrined an angel's soul I Angels might wor- ship it, and why not ye 7 He would have perceived that his eye fol« lowed her through all her emotions as the performance proceeded — that when she laughed and applauded, his countenance lit-up and flushed with the most pleasurable exitement, and that when she appeared to lose a witticism or to have her attention distracted from the performance, if only for a moment, he became uneasy, and the pleasurable emotions vanished. But Simon was too much engaged with his criticism to observe anything of this ; and after all, if he had, he could scarcely hav9 been sur- prised, for he certainly had the strongest reasons to know, that, according to the immuta- ble laws of immutable nature, there are certain objects that must always be admired, and that in being admired absorb the whole physical, mental, and psychological development of the admirer. At the conclusion of the performance, of course a general shower of plaudits and com- mendations was bestowed upon both the author and his exponents, doubtless to the infinite grati- fication of each. This laid a good foundation for the evening's amusements, into which the whole party straightway plunged with considerable zest. The counter-gallants, headed by Mr. Lindsay, were had-in ; and as the latter gentleman was good on the everlasting fiddle for a quadrille, a waltz, a cotillion, and the time-honored Sir Rodger, why, as he has subsequently been heard to observe, that was a time that was rather like a time ; and if he did'nt set the little angels flying about to some pur- pose, why, to use a familiar Tankeeism, it was somewhere about a "caution"; the only thing he could find to complain-of in the whole proceedings being, that, like angels' visits, sure enough such times in that locality were few and far between. It was observed that Simon availed himself of several opportunities of conversing with Mr. Dale ; and by the time the party broke-up, which was not until a pretty late hour, a mutual under- standing of friendship seemed to have been established between them. The Plumleys were to start for home again early in the morning ; and as it was thought that they might possibly be separated again for some considerable time, their three friends were invited to an early breakfast with them before starting. When they presented themselves in the morn- ing, it was easily discernable that their minds were disturbed about something or other, and Mr. Ewack, who was in a high degree of excite- ment, was not long in unburdening his mind oa the subject, for he had scarcely bounded into the room when he exclaimed, " Here we are, here we are ! here's another categorical elucidation! Fortune, fortuity, and disaster — the whole paraphernalia over again — the very personification of the inscru- tible vicissitudes of the past 1" "Why I hope it's nothing serious, Mr. Kwack," said Mr. Plumley. " W it is it?" "What is it! Why, what do you think?" replied Mr. Ewack, in that spirit of impos- sible enquiry in which people are wont to indulge under such circumstances, although for what end or object it is impossible to say. "Both the Indian maid and the warrior have contumaciously decamped,— gone I And what gives a sort of finishing-touch to the disaster, is, that they have had the decency to walk off with all our dresses, appointments, and decorations, together with the money-box. Oh, I can see the dodge plain enough. It's a thorough Yankee elucidation altogether. They've planned it — those two contumacious Yankee swindlers— your ' heow d'ye dews,' you know ; and a pretty how d'ye do they've made of it certainly." " Well, but don't you think you could catch them ?" said Mr. Plumley. " Catch them 1" replied Mr. Kwack. " What, catch a Yankee I Bless your innocent soul, you might just as well try to run-down the smoke of a locomotive. There's nothing but smart tricks and smoke in a Yankee, you know. An ordinary, sound, substantial, corporeal being stands no chance with them. No, they're gone, and so are we into contumacious ruin." " Well, Kwack," said Mr. Dale, " this is evi- dently a final disaster. I think after this it will be advisable that we should all endeavour to find some other mode of obtaining a livelihood. For my part I am mortally tired of the life LIFE AND ADVENTURES ri; 'I 'i i '■.: 4;:^.,;: »'i i ■ i';''i it t altogether. I hATO pretty well made-ap my mind to retfiain in Canada ; and really it must go very hard with us if we can't do as well, or eren better, than we have done hitherto in this turbulent sort of existence. What do you thinlc, Albosh?" \-' "There can be Aft doubt," replied Mr. Albosh, " that there is plenty of room for improvement upon what we hare done. The fact is, I have just made a little discovery, and if you will allow me I will just offer it as a suggestion." " Yes, well ?" said Mr. Dale. " Well, you Icnow, I strolled up as far as the Ohandiere Falls yesterday morning," continued Mr. Albosh, " and it just occurred to me that, of course, there was a water-power there suffi- cient to drive the mills of the whole world, while very little of it is applied to any really profitable purpose — and that which is, is decid- edly not applied judiciously. Very well ; it occurred to me that if we could get just the smallest nook of land in any available corner about those falls, and wo were then to run-up a mill— a flour, paint, or cotton mill, or anything of that sort — why, there We should be — a sort of a little fortune right off; and as to the cost, T^hy I should say that wouldn't be much — in fhet, I should think a mere bagatelle." It is needless to say, that however desirable the adoption of this suggestion might have been, a very small amount of reflection sufficed to re- veal to them all the propriety — as indeed was usually the case with suggestions from that quarter — of allowing it to stand-over for a *' week or two " until a better insight could be got into the ways and means — the raising of the "bagatelle" by which it was to be carried into ef- fect. A long discussion ensued, in the course of which both Simon and Philip offered a few some- what more practicable suggestions ; and which terminated in a suggestion from Mr. Plumlcy to theeifect, that, while they were looking about them and deciding on the best course to be adopted, they should all three pay a visit to the PlUtnley estate, and there consider themselves at hottie for any reasonable time denoted upon the calendar: and as this suggestion was well seconded, and supported by the whole of the Plumley fi&ttiily,lt was ultimately,and after some considerable deliberation on the part of the three friends, adopted and carried straightway into efffeut ; and by virtue thereof, at about five o'clook on the afternoon of the very same day, the whole party were found seated round the tea-table, iti a general glow of social happiness, in the front patlor of the Plum'ley cottage on the borders of the wood ; whereupon on look^ ing round upon the peace and plenty by which he suddenly found himself surrounded on all sides, Mr. Kwack felt constrained to oiftr a re- mark, which he did to the following effect : "Why, Plumley," said Mr. Kwack, "I wiis certainly prepared for an elucidation, but this flagellates the entire complement of one's cate- gorical perspicacity I Why how, in the name of the seven contumacious wonders, did you ever homogenorizo this?" " Well it's soon told," replied Mr. Plumley, who was glowing at that moment with all the generous pride of a thorough-going paterfami- lias. " When you left, if you remember, I was in a pretty comfortable berth — that is, it was pretty good pay, the work was hard of course, that's what we might expect — on the wharf. Well I kept steady on — and we was always able to save a something — for up'ards of six months, when, as fortin would go for to have it, what should I fall in with but a regular first-rate place of work in my own trade ; and, perhaps you'd hardly believe it, but there I kept, and I don't know, Lizy, ns I ever lost a single day for tlie whole four years, did I girl ? No, I don't think I did. Very well ; by that time we had managed to save-up just a hundred pounds ; and as I had paid some attention to farming in the mean time,I followed the advice of Mr. McCam- eron who has always been the kindest of friends to every one of us, and got a ' grant,' and set to work in real earnest : and what with the kind- ness of Mr. McCamcron's brother and one thing and another, we've been regular prosperous ever since ; and now I've got up'ards of three hund'ed acres of land — and capital land it is too — which we've best part cleared — and there it is, it's just worth now, in consequence of the great increase of the settlers all round and the village, five times whot it was three years ago. So that's just how it is. And now we are thinking of leaving here to go up West into Simon's coutaty. There seems to be a splendid farm there that we can have; and Simon thinks, as We shall be nearer a market for the produce, we shall do better there than we liave here even — and I tnWf expect as we shall. So that's the whole history of it — it's a pretty plain one, aint it?" "Yes," said Mr. Kwack, "itisprettyplatnto me^ — that you have Kit ,Ve right nail about the physiognomy, while we've been pertihacionsly shooting at the moon." " Yon see, mine is a rather dififeire&t pursuit from yours," said Mr. Plumley. " Well, slightly," returned Mr. Kwalc°k, "for OF SIMON SEEK. \ 136 eapon on look^ lenty by which 'rounded on all d to offer a te- iwing efTect ; Cwack, "I wi»9 idatibn,bntthl8 nt of one's cate- T, In the name of rs, did you erer ed Mr. Plumley, lent with all th» joing paterfami- member,Iwa8in at 19, it was pretty of course, that's he wharf. Well s always able to is of six months, ■ to have it, what , regular first-rato de ; and, perhaps here I kept, and I St a single day for rirl? No, 1 don't that time we had ndred pounds ; and to farming in the ice of Mr. McCam- e kindest of friends a ' grant,' and set Krhat with the kind- jther and one thing lar prosperous eter •ds of three himd'ed md it is too— which I there it is, it's just if the great increase nd the village, five ars ago. So that's we are thinking of nto Simon's coirtity. idid farm there that links, as ■v^e shall be rodnce, we shall dO •re even — and I tnWf ,t'8 the whole history le, aintit?" "it is pretty plain to right nail abont the been pertifaacionsly ther dlftetcAt pursuit aley. od Mr. Kwttck, "for yours appears to have been the pursuit of the unsophisticated substance, while we've been running over the whole habitable globe after a phantomagorial shadow." " Well, there's Mr. Worzel," said Mr. Plumley, " he's done just the same." " Oh Worzel," replied Mr. Kwack, " Worzel's a miracle. He's been giving us an abridgment of his history as we came along. There is something strictly flagellating about it. Ican't make it out." " Oi'm rather orf orpinion tha-at it a good deal cormes of trying oonly one thing and keepin' to it," said Mr. Worzel, who had taken up his seat beside his future personal moiety, and to whom he looked for a gracious confir- mation of this opinion, and from whom he straightway obtained tlio most gracioua of maidenly smiles for his assurance of her perfect concurrence in the principle of adhering to but ono solitary object at a time. " There's something in that, friends, you may be sure," said Simon. "Yes, a good deal," returned Mr.Kwack, "a sort of incontrovertible axiom. But the non- plusser is to put it into practice. We've been trying it, you know, for the last seven years. But no sooner have we been pertinaciously set- up by one chance, than we've been contumaci- ously knocked-down by another. You had a fair specimen of it this morning. I'd have un- dortaken to have gone down an Indian Chief to my grave ; but when the immutable fates cry 'stop, 'in a unmistakable category like that,who in the name of the seven wonders of the unive;se is to go ahead ? A child knows the axiom, yor know. We've all heard about the rolling stone. But it just appears to me that while one half the world are born with something like a solid foundation to rest upon, the others are set roll- ing from the top of a cr ntumacious mountain as soon as they look out upon its inscrutable old crust, and cf course down they come head over heels — neck or nothing, until they go plump into the three feet of earth that's ready- open to receive them at the bottom. And then the world pertiuaciously wonders why they didn't stick to one thing. It appears to me an inscrutable imbicility in the fundamental prin- ciples of perspicacious elucidations." Simob found so much real and profitable pleasure in the society oi his newly-found acquaintance, Mr. Dale, that (this at all events was the ostensible reason, and no doubt it had its share of influence) he obtained an extension of his leave of absence for several days beyond the stipulated period, which expired on the day • after his return from the trip to Ottawa. The strange passion into which the reappearance of Alice had so hopelessly plunged him, was how- ever only increased and deepened the longer he remained in her society ; and in this particular — as every pleasure has its pain — he was sub- jected to some little annoyance from the addi- tion to their society of Mr. Dale. For when they went out to walk — which, the weather being fine, they did frequently — his conscience, his honor, his delicacy, and every other sense of propriety compelling him to give his arm to Lizy, he was forced to abandon Alice to hia friend ; and very often did he cause more dis- tress and pain to the sensitive mind of the trembling girl who hung now almost timidly on his arm, by the agitation and silence and confusion which he manifested on these occa- sions, than would probably have ?jcen the case had he unhesitatingly transferred her to the arm of his friend and allowed Alice to occupy her place by his side. It was of course very natural for Simon, who must have been so forcibly impressed with the constitutional weakness of the human mind on such subjects, to be some- thing apprehensive of the result of the un- interrupted contact of two such minds as he was compelled to leave together on these occa- sions ; and more especially was he apprehensive of his new friend, whose mind, being decidedly of a literary turn, he naturally conceived — like all literary-turned minds — would be peculiarly sensitive and susceptible on all feminine topics ; and in this he found a new addition to his perplexity, and a new incentive to the develop- ment of the strange anomaly that had taken possession of him. " Seek," said Mr. Dale a day or two after hia arrival at the cottage, " I am a little bit puz- zled on a certain interesting little matter. It strikes me if I had the good fortune (or perhaps in one sense it might have been a misfortune) to have been the brother of either of our little angels here, I should have felt it a sort of duty due to all parties to have put the usual ques- tion to you on the point of intentions. Might I ask you, my fine fellow, if Alice " " Dale," said Simon interrupting him and laying his hand emphatically on his arm, " on that point you will please to excuse me. But while we are on it, I will just take the liberty of offering you one word of ad7ice : Don't allow yourself to get entangled in that quarter. There is an insurmountable obstacle — nothing can 136 LIFE AND ADVENTURES m m p m possibly remore it. I am sincere, I assure you." " Thank you ; you are very kind," replied Mr. Dale. " And no leas true," returned Simon. " But if you please, we will change the subject. Per- haps one day I may be in a position to give yon a more satisfactory explanation ; but for the present I give you my word as a friend. Dale, for tho verity of what I say," he added in a lighter tone : and the subject was pursued no farther. They were both for the future silent on the subject ; but to Simon it was ^n ominous silence, through which he daily and hourly became the more and more iuTolTed in the tortuous laby- rinth of indecision and perplexity in which he found himself entangled. '.V '■''''■ CHAPTER XXIII. WHIOH RETURNS TO >lcOAMBRON. m i m Wa return to him again as we left him, in the dark depths of the forest, seated on the upturn- ed trunk, and rapt in his own melancholy re- flections on the strange fortuity that Lad pur- sued him for so many years. It was deveral hours before he stirred ; and when he did so, he looked about him bewildered, and shook his head as if with the conviction of the utter hope- lessness of endeavouring to extricate himself from the labyrinth by which he was surround- ed. Whichever way he looked, he saw the S'lme land-marks — the same broad white road —the name confusion and darkness : there was no ehc ice of way in all that vast, untrodden wildercess — there was none to choose. After a *his be rose, however, and having succeeded in partially reanimating his half-frozen limbs, he selected his course to the best of his recol- lection — which however was of but little ser- vice, for if he had started right he could not possibly have followed the same direction for a single mile— and waded-on through the snow as briskly as his benumbed limbs would carry him against its sofii and irregular bed. He walked -on, hour after >>our. nnd ttos tttill push- ing forward when the light began to dawn. On noting the direction from which its rays began to break through the darkness, it occur- red to him that he must have been going very nearly in a right angle with the course he wish- ed to pursue, a supposition which was confirm- ed when the sun rose, and, by gaining an eleva- tion wh>.ch was surrounded by trees something smaller than the great bulk of the forest, he was enabled to form a correct estimate of its whereabouts. He now reshaped his course and pushed forward again ; but as the hours passed one after another, so every hope of again re- covering the solitary clearing in which he had left his best companion and guide, began to desert him ; and noon, and evening, and night overtook him again, and still he was wander- ing in the midst of the same forest, the same changeless objects, the same white sea in which he started. His little store of provisions having been left with his compass in the shanty, he had nothing to subsist-on but a few small bis- cuits that happened to be in his pocket. One of these he had eaten during the day, and, hav- ing allotted himself another for his evening's meal, he cast about him for a shelter for the night, which he found in the hollow of a tree ; and here he passed the long weary hours in broken dreams and sad and sorrowful wander- ings to his daughter and his home. The next day and the next night were spent in (he same way, and with the same results ; and when he rose from his icy couch on the morning of the third day, what, with the combined effects of the exposure to the intense cold, the long fast, and the heavy toil of wading through the snow, he found himself almost unable to crawl from the cover, and it was with the greatest difiS- culty and only by dint of the most resolute determination that he was enabled to stagger forward at all in his uncertain way. But still he staggered on, defying his weakness and con- tending resolutely against the pain and hunger and fatigue of which he suffered, for hour after hour, and still no mark nor sign appeared to give him hope of escape from the danger and death that was spread about him. By the time the evening drew nigh again, his strength, his ,'* he added in TM pursued no e silent on tlie minous silence, rly became tbe tortuous laby- ty in vhich he ope of again re- in -which he had 1 guide, began ening, and night he was wander- forest, the same hite sea in which ns having been shanty, be had few small bis- lis pocket. One tie day, and, hav- for his evening's a shelter for the boUow of a tree ; weary hours in )rrowful wander- lome. ,ght were spent in ame results ; and :h on the morning J combined effects iold, the long fast, through the snow, ble to crawl from the greatest diffi- the most resolute nabled to stagger n way. But still veakne^s and con- e pain and hunger red, for hour after ■ sign appeared to m the danger and him. By the time I, his strength, his fortitude, and every ray of hope had deserted him ; and after stumbling indiscriminately through the snow for some time, he threw him- self down upon its cold bed and gave himself up to all the anguish of despair. His nature was exhausted— his limbs were benumbed and disabled by the long exposure to the intense cold — his hope and his courage were gone, and he believed that at last he had stumbled to his grave. He raised himself to his knees, and clasped his hands fervently together in a last prayer for his child and the dear ones at home. His lips had ceased to move— his mind had become abstracted, and he had knelt there with his hands still clasped, and his eyes turned mbnrnfhlly upward, motionleqB and dumb for a considerable time; when he was suddenly startled by the pressure of a human hand upon his shoulder, and, looking round, he beheld through his still vacant gaze, the outline of a tall, swarthy figure who was standing motion- less by his side with his hand resting on the muzzel of his rifle, the butt-end of which was planted in the snow, bad his eyes bent quietly down upon himself. " Why, in God's name, who are you ?" gasped McCameron, seizing the man by the hand and raising himself by his assistance to his feet, as soon as he had sufficiently recovered his senses to comprehend the reality. " Me Ingin," replied the man. " Whar you go ?" McCameron felt the blood again darting through his veins, the sti£faess seemed charmed out of his limbs by the very first sound of the man's voice, his weakness vanished at a bound, and, seizing the Indian by the hand, he ex- claimed, " Heaven be praised for this deliverance t I have lost my way, my good mon. I was com- pletely exhausted — I should never have risen again. Heaven be praised 1" " Injin thought pale-face lose way," said the man : " often lose way. Injin no lose way. Follow you long time 'fore speak : all day. Thought you lose way." " Are we far from any habitation, my iiood mon — any shelter ?" said McCameron. "Not far to Injin home," I'^plied the Indian. " Long way to the pale-face. Take you to Injin home." " Thonk you, thonk you," returned McCam- eron. " Many thonks — you have saved my life." " Drive 'way cold," said the Indian producing a small stone bottle from tbe pocket of his blanket-coat, and oflfering it to McCameron without any further remark. McCameron took the bottle and supped a small portion of its contents, which consisted of perhaps some of the worst of Canadian whis- key ; but bad as it was, it had a wonderful effect upon his spirits and revived his exhausted ener- gies amazingly. " Well, now, my firiend, I think I can accom^ pany you," said McCameron, having rr.bbed and chafed his limbs to renew the circulation.. "Stay, what are you doing, mon ?" : tjF The Indian had commenced to remove the snow-shoes which were on his feet, and he only replied, " Injin's shoes better for pale-face," and, hav- ing removed them, handed them to McCameron in silence. " Tes, but, my good mon," said McCameron. " I can get along very well as I am." " Pale-face weak — Injin strong," replied the Indian. And McCameron seeing that he had no idea of retaining them, took them, and, with the other's assistance, adjusted them to his own feet, much to the Indian's apparent satisfac- tion. This being arranged, the Indian led the way, and McCameron trudged along after him with renewed hope and energy, send not regretting that he had availed himself of his guide's gene- rosity in the matter of the shoes, which proved to him a wonderful assistance. They had waded-on for several hours, McCa- meron being refreshed every now and then with a draught from the Indian's bottle ; and it was close upon midnight when they emerged from the woods into a broad, open plain, at the upper end of which a faint light, and then an- other and another, became gradually and more distinctly visible as they advanced. " Injin home," said the man, pointing with his hand towards the lighti. " Heaven be praised," said McCameron. " I a,m almost exhausted. Tou have saved my life, mon." Another hour brought them to the village, which consisced of an irregular range of low, snow-clad huts, from which, here and there, a faint glimmer of a light became visible. But there were no other signs of life to be seen any- where about ; everything was silent and still ; and they passed-on to the upper end of the rude collection (without seeing a soul, or hearing a sound of any kind. Here the man stopped before the door of one of the largest huts of the collection, and, mo- tioning McCameron to follow him, removed the 188 LIFE AND ADVENTURES Hi I) I '•^lliiiii E: ! I lliilll Mi rude fastening, and, opening it very careftiUy, entered, closing it again witli the same care the moment McOameron was by his side. V -' He was a savage ; hia fbiends were doubtlesd asleep, and therefore he entered noiselessly. Had he been a proper civilized Ohristian, he would have banged and slammed the door about in a civilized manner, until ho had suc- ceeded in knocking at least the next three hours' repose out of the entire village. Where are the Missionaries ? HcOameron now found himself in a spacious apartment, in which there was scarcely any- thing in the shape of furniture ; what there was being of the rudest description, and arranged with no pretensions to order. There was a fire atill burning near the centre of the floor, and by the light it afforded he was enabled to dis- tinguish the outlines of several rude couches arranged along the upper end of the apart- ment, on each of which an object lay coiled- ap in a coarse blanket, or with a rough bear- skin thrown loosely over it. His guide now placed a stool near the fire and motioned him to be seated, and then, mov- ing noiselessly to the further end of the room, disappeared behind a large blanket which was hung-up in one corner to conceal an aperture in the wf '1. He had not been absent many minutes when he returned, accompanied by a second figure enveloped in a loose blanket, who followed him slowly to where McCameron was seated at the fire. McCameron rose as he approached, conceiv- ing it might be the chief, and the other stood eying him in silence for several seconds, and then, putting out his hand for bis guest to shake, he said, " Englishman welcome. Injin make him welcome. Chief glad to see Englishm.an. Chief give up sleep to stranger. Long no eat —walk long — very much tired — stranger want sleep— Chief give up sleep to stranger." As he said this, he pointed to tlie aperture by which he had just entered the apartment, and motioned his guest to follow him, as he led the way into the small room into which it conducted. McCameron sbr jk him warmly by the hand, and, thanking jim over and over again, most gratefully accepted his hospi- tality. As he entered, be observed a closely enve- loped figure glide from the room and hurry towards the dojr of the principle ai-artment ; and as it occurred to him that this was his ge- nerous ho?c's squaw, whom he had deprived of her rest as well as himself, he was about to of- fer some apology, but, on looking into the other's countenance, he observed that he appeared so totally unconscious of the figure's having passed him, that he thought hia apology might 'oe mis- placed. The chief pointed to the rude but ample couch which occupied the principal portion of the apartment, and, having removed several of the skins that hung against the walls and placed them on the ground for his guest to tread upon, he again held out his hand, which Mc- Cameron took with the utmost sincerity, and then silently withdrew. A few minutes after, and just as McCameron had composed himself on the rude, but to him most welcome bed, he observed the blanket concealing the opening moved gently on one side, and the head of the noble savage who had saved his life, thrust noiselessly into the apart- ment. When he perceived that its occupant was not yet asleep, he came in, and, silently placing a small earthenware pan, containing some hot, steaming mixture, down by the bed- side, he pointed to it with his hand and again noiselessly withdrew. McCameron tasted it, and, as both its appear- ance and taste resembled very much the "gruel " of civilizpMon, rather strongly flavor- ed with the whiskey whoso quality he had al- ready tested, he proceeded to put it to his pro- per use without the slightest hesitation ; and considering the long time he had been without calling upon his digestive organs to exert themselves for the general good, he waa agree- ably surprised to find that the process was at- tended with anything but painful sensations. He had just replaced the empty dish upon the ground, and was about to compose himself for sleep, when his attention was attracted to a scuffling noise in the outer apartment, and, on removing the blanket-partition a little on one side, he perceived that the sleepers bad all quitted their beds and were holding a consul- tation in low, hurried whispers, at the further end of the room, with the Chief and three others, who appeared to have just arrived from a jour- ney, their snow-shoes being still on their feet. The consultation lasted but a few seconds, and then they all quitted the dwelling one after another as noiselessly as mice, c .d he heard no more oftliem for perhaps fifteen minutes, when the door was again opened softly, and several of them reappeared supporting a litter between them, on which a human being appeared to be OF SIMON SEEK. 180 nras about to of- ( into the other's he appeared bo 8 haring paased ff might be mis- ude but ample icipal portion of lOTod several of tvalls and placed guest to tread and, which Mc- t sincerity, and It as McCameron ude, but to him ed the blanket 1 gently on one savage who had IT into the apart- hat its occupant in, and, silently pan, containing awn by the bed- hand and again I both its appear- very much the ' strongly ilavor- lality he had al- put it to his pro- hesitation ; and lad been without irgans to exert d, he waj agree- ) process was at- iful sensations, empty dish upon compose himself was attracted to apartment, and, ition a little on I sleepers had all lolding a consul- 8, at the further and three others, ived from a jour- ; still on their t a few seconds, ivellinf* one after c .d he heard no n minutes, when ly, and several of a litter between ; appeared to be «onveyed, although a large coarse blanlcet, which was spread completely over the whole object, concealed it effectually from view. They wore followed by several women, each carrying bundles in their arms, and who pro- ceeded at once to the beds at the upper end of the room and commenced busying thempelvei. about them, wbilp the men, having deposited tb^ir burden on one of them, litter and all, at once quitted the hut and left the women alone .with their charge. K Cameron could observe that they were fixing a screen of blankets, of which they appeared to possess a plentiful supply, around sne of the beds, and that the object, whoever it was, was quickly removed from off the litter and placed upon the bed within the screen ; af- ter which he was only able to catch a whisper now and then from among the women, the pur- port of which he was of course unable to divine. A variety of conjectures now crowded into his mind iu a variety of strange shapes, and kept Jiis brain in a continual whirl. The grateful Bleep that his exhausted nature so much com- plained for had entirely fled him ' .nd there he lay, rainbling and rolling about, both in uody and mind — his daughter, his home, the unhappy maniac, and his daughter again; and then a moment of unconsciousness, and a strange con- fusion of storms and trees and phantom giants ; a ghastly corpse, a flying demon ; ships and seas, and cities and forests advancing, retiring and rolling, and tossing and dissolving together; and all covered with a great white pall, and his daughter wading, and flying and struggling through it all ; and then a great calm, and his daughter is borne towards uim in the arms of a great red giant ; she comes nearer and nearer, he puts out his arms, he starts, she has va- nished, and he clasps his hands to his burn- ing head and sighs, and turns upon his pil- low, and murmurs " God bless her and preserve her, ' and the phantoms crowd about him again. Everything remained quiet in the adjoining apartment, and, after two or three hours of rest- less wandering, ho succeeded in falling off into a little more regular sleep, which lasted with but little interruption until the morning had far advanced ; when he woke with a start from a short dream, in which his daughter had been restored to him by an Indian, and on looking round he perceived that the Chief, whose bed he was occupying, was standing in the room Vfith his arms folded across his breast, and his keen, dark eye directed thoughtfiilly towarda his own. " Good morning. Chief," said McCameron, putting out his hand. " Chief wis) stranger good morn," said the Chief. " How pale-'tice stranger sleep in Ipjln bed ?" " Thonk you, thonk you," said McCameron, " no bed wab ever so good or so welcome to me before. Chief." « Glad En;jlishman like Injin bed," said the Chief. "You hear noise inthar?" he added, after a thoughtful pause, pointing to the ad- joining apartment. " None to disturb me. Chief," replied McCa- meron, who, although anxious to know some- thing of the object of the proceedings which had excited so many strange conjectures in hia mind over night, was yet reluctant to appear unnecessarily or obtrusively curious. "Know who in thar?" added the Chief. " No, certainly not," said McCameron, whoie mind began to crowd with new conjectures. "English squaw in there," continued the other. " What," cried McCameron, starting to a sit- ting posture. "Do you really tell me, Chief, that it is an English lady?" " Chief speak truth," returned the Indian. "English sq'.iaw in thar. Yoi lose white squaw ?" "Yes, yes, mon," cried McCameron, springing from the bed and commencing hurriedly to dress. " I must see her, I must see her, Chief. Is she ill?" " Been much ill," replied the chief. " Injin find her in woods, no speak, no move — much ill." " Will she recover, wi'.l she recover. Chief?" said McCameron, grasping the generous Indian earnesf'.y by the hand. " Injin squaw soon make well," replied the Chief. " Stranger much like squa\> ?" he add- ed interrogatively. McCameron followed the chief into the ad- joining apartment as soon as the hurried ar- rangements of his dress were completed. He stood by the bed-side of the fair invalid as she lay with her pale face turned upward, and her unconsi.' u frequently see Mr. Dale, now he is up this wf y, Mrs. Plumley ?" he added after a pause. " Oh yes ; he very often comes-in to sp snd the evening, and almost always on a Sunday," replied Mrs. Plumley. " Yes, well, I feel assured that everything is »t hit wife in- int. "Tb«fAOt ; of speaking to II there's nothing that the other Med. to say, I hope as thinlcing of fyou could give (now whether I ar child, she's B, we're — there, ley turning and to conceal the 'I can't do it, , just tQll Mr- : think I know I't know that I a any way with illy as you hfkve till I am very ou. There can on has been a say he has per- n. He has had tely to engross Plumley, rub- '. told you what it it is." said Philip, id with respect scarcely need fact, that it is izy better than . Plumley ; "I , who began to aeasily, " there that is to say is all nothing, being applied. ;e beings, Mrs. Philip, endea- isophy and ges- 1 embarrassirg 'I suppose you is up this wf y, I pause, es-in to sp md on a Sunday," t everything is OF 8IM0N SEEK. UH in the right way towards a proper termination. I should just be perfectly easy in mind, if I were you, until this clcuiion is over; and if I might be allowed to offer the suggestion, Mrs. Plumley, I should just, you know, cheer her up with the — with, with the assurance that — that, of course — you understand, you know— Just so, precisely." "Yes, Lizy," said Mr. Plnmley, "you hear what Mr. Sorftish says. We must cheer the dear child up, Lizy, that's what we muat do. He's worried with business, that's what he is, Lizy." " Have you seen Simon lately, Mr. Sorftish?" asked Mr. Plumley. "Oh, yes,' replied Philip, "saw him yester- day, and Mr. Dale likewise. He is very much engaged. I promised to see him again this morning ; and so I think you must please to excuse me. I may possibly look back again in the evening. But as I was saying— oh, here come the girls." The entrance of the girls at this moment put a final stop to the subject in hand, to Philip's infinite satisfaction, for he felt all along that be was treading on very delicate ground, and would have been only the n-nre pleased had the same interruption occurred at the very outset. He was very much startled at the change in Lizy's countenance since he had last seen her ; which, added to the effects of the preceding dialogue, combined to render him extremely uneasy, and effectually dissipated his wonted gallantry and mirtbfulr'is ; and he therefore excused himself as quickly as possible, and proceeded to the town in which his friend Simon was expecting his appearance. Simon's business chambers wire situate in a side-atreet on the first floor of a lb ge wood build- ing which was devoted generally to professional purposes, and of course displayed the usual cold, stiff, gloomy, unwashed, mildewed, pro- fessional appearance, and looked extremely like a large pile of defunct bank-notes ani^ superannuated briefs put together with red tape and sealing-wax, and thrown into Chan- cery. On a large square board fixed-up beside the door and carved-up into numberless sub- divisions for the purpose, — and which looked remarkably like deed-boxes out of work, — were inscribed the names of all thj presiding genii of the place ; and in one of them, where but a short time before there had shone but one so- litary name, there were now two, and the latter one was Seek : a change which Philip seemed to regard with considerable pleasure and satis- faction. Yes, Simon was no longer Mr. Seek the articled clerk, but, to all intents and pur- poses, Simon Seek, Esquire, of the firm of Oreefliam k Seek, barristers and attorneys at law, etc., etc. ; and as the senior partner in the firmofBreefham k Seek was more so ostensibly than in reality, since he had retired to the bo- som of his family, and, finding it a very soft, quiet, congenial bosom indeed, had become very reluctant to desert it, as all men finding such a bosom to recline upon should be, Simon was of course rapidly growing into a man of importance, esteem, envy, trust, mistrust, love, hate, commendation, and slander, according to the immutable law. As Philip moved towards the office, the door opened, and a young man came hurriedly out, and closed it again in a somewhat unceremo- nious manner. "Ah, Dale I" cried PhUip, catching him by the hand as be was in the act of rushing down stairs. " Why, man, you are looking positivs- ly wild. What's amiss ?" Mr. Dale (who certainly did not look the pic> ture of either happiness or composure, except as we have seen it sometimes depicted on a public-house sign, with its hairs all erect, and its eyes rolling about the face in direct defi- ance of all the laws of locality and sockets) shrugged-up his shoulders and pointed to the office-door with sundry voluminous gesticula- tions as if to say, " I don't wish to frighten you, but there's an earthquake inside." " Exploded," he said at length in a half- whisper. " I couldn't have believed it." "What, Seek do you mean?" said Philip. " Not about " " Yes," returned the other. " He introducefd the subject : of course I could see with what object ; and so I thought it would be the most honorable and straightforward way just to make a clean breast of it and let him know what the state of my mind on the subject really is. That was bad enough ; but when I hinted at the possibility of a mutual understanding exist- ing on the subject already,— oh, good Heavens 1 I began to think that nothing short of a pair of Colt's, breast to breast, would ever adjust it. As it is, as far as his interest goes — so he saya — I have got my discharge ; and so if you should happen to know of any one in want of an active young man, capable of — etc., etc., why I shall be obliged, you know." " Nonsense," said Philip. " Upon my word, you astonish me. But he would never do that. That's jubt the h^at of the moLivUi with him. 144 LIFE AND ADVENTUUES &! k m n p 1 H« hM too much honor about blnn to do a thing ofthatiort." " Ym, yn, to I think," returned Mr. Dale. " But thkt ii Juit how th* matter itAndt now." " Well, I am juit going-in to tee him," laid Philip. <* Perhapi I ihall lee you by and by. But I ihouldn't think of anything of that sort for a moment." Philip found Simon Seek, Esquire, pacing up and down the floor of hii office in a state of ■upreme agitation. '* I Just met Dale going down stairs," said Philip after a few preliminary remarks, to which Simon appeared tolerably oblivious. "Confound him," said Mr. Seek. « I hare done with him." ** Eh 7" said Philip, who was slightly star- tled by the young barrister's professional-like manner of disposing of the case. <' I have done with him ; ho is discharged," added Simon, still more emphatically than be- fore. "W.7, if you are really in earnes' — and there i) certainly a good deal of the matter-of- foot ahout you, — "ou astonish me," said Philip. "It must be some very serious offence; may I isk what?" " Yes," returned Simon, who still continued pacing the floor, with a face extremely flushed and agitater ; "be ha broken faith w'th me in a manner I don't intend to overlook. Now, what do you think he had the assurance to tell me?" he added, stopping short and fixing a look of indignant inquiry (produced as usual) on Philip. " Oouldn't form half of a shadow," said Philip. " Why, that he considered himself as good as engaged to Alice, and that he had every reason to believe that the recognized it. Now what do you think of that?" " Well, since you ask me," returned Philip, " I will tell you, Sim. I think you ought to take him heartily by the hand, and consider him the best friend you had got." Simon threw himself in a chair and proceed- ed to stare incredulously at his friend for the space of three minutes and a half, during which Philip emphatically reiterated that opinion three distinct times. " Oh, do you ?" he said at length. " Well, now, I am of so very different an opinion that he will have to look-out for other employment. I respected Dale as much as I could respect any one ; and I have respected him the more since he has been engaged on the paper, for the abl'lty and energy he has displayed in the conductinit of it ; but if It were to cost me my whole interest in the concern, I wouldn't retain a man that could be guilty of such a fla- grant breach of faith. He Is as good as dlt- charged." " I hare too much confidence in you, Sim, to believe anything of the sort, although you say it yourself," replied Philip. " I suppose you are prepared to make a slight allowance for the peculiar diflloulty of governing our passions In little matters of this sort?" Simon sidled round in his chair and then •idled back again without offering any reply. " Well, now, Sim, the fact is," continued Philip, drawing a chair opposite his friend and seating himself with a stern demeanour, " I am going to read you a lecture." " Thank you — I'm obliged to you," returned Simon, certainly with but little appearance of gratitude in his countenance ; " but I think with a little effort I might manage to get along independently of any such obligation." " No doubt, my dear fellow," continued Phi- lip ; " but if you will excuse me, I am going to do it. Now, first of all, don't you think it is time, both for yourself and your dear friends — for I am sure they are all most dear to you— at home, that you should begin to give this matter some seriOL '' consideration 7" " Oonsideration I" cried Simon, starting to his feet and pacing hurriedly too and fro again. " Haven't I been distracting my mind night and day, and every moment of my existence, for the last two years, about it ? What do you caU consideration, pray?" " But have you really any idea of what you are doing?" urged Philip. " Yes," replied Simon, with a sudden burst of remorse ; " making an ass of myself— a con- summate ass ; I know that." "Well, I won't say that," continued Philip; " but this I am sorry to say is the fact, that it is destroying the health and happiness of one of the best and dearest girls in the world ; and that, I have reason to know, is becoming something more serious than you can well imagine." Simon again seated himself, and sat looking at his friend for several minutes a picture of supreme wretchedness ; and a crowd' of con- flicting emotions appeared to be wrestling to- gether in his mind. " And do you really think it is affecting her health, Phil ?" he said at length in a subdued and anxious tone. "::'!; lipUy«d in the to 001 1 ma my irouldn't retain of luch a fla- M good u dit- in you, Sim, to bougli you lay I suppoie you oveanoo for the our paaiioDi hair and then ig any reply, ii," continued his friend and oanour, " I am you," returned appearance of "but I think go to get along ation." ontinued Phi- , I am going to ^ou thinlc it is dear friends — dear to you— n to give this 3n?" }n, starting to ) and fro again, mind night and :i8tence, for the lat do you call a of what you i sudden burst myself— a con- tinued Philip ; le fact, that it ppiness of one he world ; and , is becoming you can well nd sat looking s a picture of crowd' of con- e wrestling to- is affecting her 1 in a subdued OF SIMON REEK. 145 " I am confldent of it ; and to a rery serious extent," replied Philip. " What ought I to do— what con I do, Phil 7" laid Simon, with all the earneitnesi and seri- ousness of one who only required to /mow the remedy In order to put It into execution at any suorlfloe. '• If you ask my advice seriously," replied Philip, "I would say, simply and precisely the opposite of what you have Just done with respect to Dale in the flrstjplace, and " "What," cried Simon, with a sUrt that seemed to firighten away at a bound the noble resolution which was Just on the point of forming In his mind, " allow him—" he paused again and engaged In another praiseworthy struggh with himself, or rather with the strange influence that appeared for the time to have made himself not himself, as he has already hinted ; after which he added, showing that he himself was for the time victorious — "Well, after all. It Is the only absolute remedy ; and If she favors him, why — why I'll make an ass of myself no longer ; so here goes for the first step." This was the simple process of ringing the small hand-bell on the table, and which was certainly effected with a remarkable degree of resolution and stability of purpose. It was instantly followed by a conflict of stools and scuflling of feet in the adjoining office, and the almost magical appearance of about eighteen inches of the upper end of an elongated youth, in bottle-green, around the door-jamb, who, addressing the bell, replied respectfully, " Yes, s'r." " Pholio," said Mr. Seek. " Yes, s'r," said Pholio. " Just run across to the office, and ask Mr. Dale if he will be good enough to step over." " Yes, s'r," and Pholio was not. " There, I'll settle that matter, at all events," said Simon, who was evidently very fast be- coming invincible. " You may rest assured it will be the hap- piest thing you ever did," said Philip. "It wants a little resolute determination, my dear fellow, — that is all it wants. If you once set about it in a proper way, I believe it will va- nish in less than no time. And really the af- fair has begun now to assume a serious aspect." " I'll do it, I'll do it," said Simon, invincibly. " Cost what it will, I'll do it. Nothing can be worse than this perpetual distraction. Poor, dear girl 1 The fact is, I can't make it out, you know, Phil. There is a peculiarity of feeling about the matUr that I can't understand. lam satisfled that Liiy is realty and truly as dear to me as ever she was, or as she can possibly be ; and yet there Is a something that makes me look with a kind of boirror on the bare pos- sibility of losing the affections of the other. It appears to be a genuine Platonic aflbotion— essentially Platonic, and I think It is the same on both sides ; but unfortunately the definition has no virtue in it in the present state of so- ciety—the one is equally Inadmissible as ths other. Well, at all events there must b« an end of it, one way or other. I will settle it all this very day, now I have set about it. Yea will be able to return home with me this even' Ing, Phil 7" " Oh, yes ; I think so. I partially promlisd them." . " That's well. Here comes Dale." Ur. Dale entered with a sort of comical seri- ousness, which said plainly, " Ofcourselknew you were either Jesting or deceiving yourself, so I am perfectly prepared to receive your apology." " Dale," said Simon, "take a chair, old fellow. The fact is I have been making an ass of my- self. I wish you to understand that what I said Just now, every word of it, is recalled, entirely recalled. Do you understand me ?" " Ve;. much better, certainly, than I did five minutes ago," replied Dale, passing a look of eternal friendship to Philip, " and very much more to my satisfaction, unquestionably. Then I suppose I may just as well complete the arti- cle, showing the advantages to the county, the country, and the state, that will accrue from the return of Simon Seek, Esq., to Parliament, for the county of " " Oh confound the Parliament," said Simon. " Whatever you do, don't put it in too strong. Dale. Because if it should happen that I go In, I shall Just falsify it all, and then away goes your prophetic reputation at once ; and that is worth about half the circulation at any time. At any rate, you will have to support your own statement on your own account. But, however, that is not the subject. All I can say is, upon what we were talking, or rather brawling about this morning, you must exercise your own discretion." "That is to say," interposed Philip, "that you have her guardian's full consent and appro- bation, and that it now only remains for yon to obtain the assent and approbation of the young lady herself." " Which, as I took the liberty (not without urn 4 'I I - ' |i I 'I I' 1^ LIFE AN13 ADVENTURES some risk)," said Mr. Dkle, " of intimating only a short time ago t6 that respected IndiTldual, I believe is progressing favorably." A slight tinge was perceived to gathdr about the jealobs features of the " guardian " as Mh Dale delivered himself of this remark; but it was presently suppressed, and a smile of con- gratulationj which however was far from perfectly accordbg to the usual standard, sub- stituted in its stead. It was rather lat« before Simon was able to tear himself away (to use a familiar phrase) fibom business that evening, and it was nearly eight o'clock before he arrived home, accom- panied by Philip, and by a dmall regiment of re- solutions which were to be forthwith put into execution for the purpose of sweeping, as with a besom of remorse, all the difiSculties and per- plexities from the course of his true love, opening-up i\ new track altogether, smooth and unruffled, with precisely space enough for two to walk abreast and no more, not even the most fairy-like form inserted edgeways. He had admonished Philip to watch his pro- ceedings, and just to observe the nature of his first step. Philip did so ; and it appeared to Mm to have very much the appearance of a stumble. He observed that as he entered the room in which Lizy and Alice were seated together at the table over a Berlin-wool frame, aiid his eyes met their eyes, and they both smiled and laughed, and then greeted him to- gether like a pair of the most affectionate of sisters, that a peculiar change overspread his countenance, that his resolution appear- ed straightway to be oozing-out either at tfa6 popular point or from some other local- ity, and that he seated himself apparently more bewildered, more irresolute, and more tho- roughly wretched in mind than it had ever yet been the other's fortune to behold him. A rubber was presently proposed by the girls ; aiid having cut for partners, Alice fell to him Kui- ■'' Kn; • : ■■::i ^:.(,' h^ as a matter of course. This only tended to embarrass him the more ; for he couldn't move his head but there were those two bright, innb- cent (the more dangerous), angel-like orbs to look into, and all that calm and beautifully placid countenance perpetually before him. He looked on Lizy, with her pale features and forced smile and her silent love, and his cofa- science smote him and his heart sank within him ; he turned to Alice and his heart leapt and the blood flushed to his cheek ; and all the strange perplexity of the strange passion that had spread its influence so securely about him had again returned. Lizy observed the wandering of his agitated' eye, and perchance could read too the conflict- ing thoughts that were running through his mind; for she instinctively followed him through every movement and every emotion, although no one else knew it, or thought it, or could pos- sibly have observed it, for she laughed and talked and appeared as cheerful as they ; but none of them knew the pain and the suffering that lay beyond it, in the silent depths of her aching heart. But they each had their own thoughts to trouble them ; and from starting pretty cheerfully, they sank-down into occa- sional common-place remarks ; and from this the game gradually began to be played accord- ing to Hoyle, in profound silence, and doubtless they each and all felt grateful and relieved when it terminated. " Philip," said Simon, when they were left alone, " you will think me perfectly insane, or something worse; but I can't do it. Good Heavens, what a whirlpool I am in I Now I have committed myself with Dale. Whatever can be done ? It would be useless to attempt to explain to you my feelings. I am spell- bound. But come what will, I tell you, Philip, I am confident I can never suffer to see her married to any one else. I can see the chaos I am going to, but I can see no way out of it." kftflisfj'-t: t-i^j.d-'!^' r^j-' nly tended to I conldn't mote '0 bright, innb- ;el-like orbs to .nd beautifully J before him. le features and I, and his cofa- irt sank within lis heart leapt ek ; and all the :e passion that rely about him of his agitated 00 the conflict- ig through his ed him through ttion, although it, or could pos- i laughed and 1 as they; but d the suffering depths of her had their own from starting wn into occa- and from this played accord- , and doubtless [ and relieved they were left ctly insane, or do it. Good m in I Now I lie. Whatever ess to attempt I am spell- ill you, Philip, 9er to see her see the chaos way out of it." mmm mim seek. M tm ^m.mm*t^'}; •nmmi-i CHAPTER XXV. THE ELECTION. I f » iBBisPEOTrva of all politicill considerations, of all subsequent influences, a general election is in itself an important social institution. It is a mighty ploughshare, ploughing-up the pas- sions and prejudices of men and of parties— a great magician, all powerful for an hour, at whose command the social chaos is unveiled — by which the impenetrable darkness that enve- lopes the motley crowds of humanity as they jostle together in the social labyrinth, is dis- persed for a little moment, and the slumbering deformities, the secret emotions, the fondly-che- rished mysteries, the good and the evil of the moral, political, and religious character of indi- viduals, of parties, of cities, and of nations is brought-out from its obscurity, divested of its garb of mystery, and laid bare to the vulgar criticism of the world. That it should, as it were, revolutionize so- ciety for the time, — should call forth all the passions, the prejudices, the ignorance, and the wisdom from every fibre of its beings, — is but a natural consequence of the importance and magnitude of the institution, and the universal influence that its operations are destined to exert over all portions of the community. For it is the gathering-together of the individual atoms of that vast machine Whose ultimate operations shall vibrate through every nerve of the social fibric, affecting every atom of its being, from the statesman who declaims in the senate-house, and whose voice may sway the destinies of empires, to the unconscious babe that nestles in its mother's arms in the forgcftten obscurities of indigence and vice. As that machine shall operate for or against the encouragement of social industry, the good interests of commerce, the general welfare and prosperity of the nation, the common weal or woe, BO shall that witless babe perchtince be- come a good or a bad member of society, a denizen of honest labor or a worthless beggar' in the streets, a husbahd and a father of a happy home or an inmate of »' jail add an out- cast from his fellows. As that gtieta(t institri- tion the materials of which are gathered to- gether at an election, shall legislate fbr oi agaiinBt the proper enlightenmdnt'and idtelleo^ tnal culture of the masses, — shall promote b^ neglect the establishment of good and propiM^- national institutions, — so perchance shall thni now unconscious babe become an intelligent, a'^ useftil, a moral, and even a great and good! man, or, on the other hand, a clown, a sot tot the finger of the worid to point at, an nntutored' savage, a ready tool for designing men to em- ploy against the good interests of the state^' ripe for rebellion, and regardless alike of the laws of God and of man. Reasoning upon these principles, and jea- lous for the interests of the country generally and their own county in particular, a number of the leading inhabitants of the county of Phlare- up, amounting to ten souls in all, gathered themselves together and said, " We are in want of a representative. The Sheriff has intimated that much ; and as he' ought to know what our wants are, we believe him, and it now becomes our duty to ask our- selves who that representative shall be. There is Stumps. He's a first-rate fellow in his way. Goes-in fbr good broad principles, looks to the general good, but won't budge an inch to oblige an elector, who of course is the first that should be looked to. And therefoTe as Stamps will vote for the Railway to A. for the general good, and we want the Railway to B. for our own good, why of course Stumps won't do— in short, St'-mps is not the man. Then there's Doughy. Doughy's pretty soft, goes-in for the pay, and hasn't got a principle belonging to bird. And therefore Doughy would be just the maa for us, because we could just mould Doughy about to anything we pleased. But unfortu- nately Doughy can't speak. We might just a^ well send an automaton labelled ' yes ' or ' no' on the various questions, and that would be equally aS serviceable aS Doughy ; and there- fore Doughy won't do. But then there's Sfeek. Seek's a young man, decidedly ambitious-; and if we piit' iii S6ek, no doubt wel cAii do with Seek just as we please ; and Seek has the advantage of being a good speaker, a clet^t fallow, has' an ihsihuating mannef, and, aboV(J all, is the proprietor of the' principal paper ia thecotiitty: and therefore, wlthodi a shiadot^ Ill I 148 LIFE AND ADVENTURES I "1 of a doubt, Seek i» the man: Hurrah for Seek I" Such being their patriotic conclusions, the worthy electors threw themselTes heart and 4ioul into the cause ; and in less than a week the usual " numerously-signed requisition," re- questing that he would allow himself to be nominated, etc., was presented to Simon Seek, Esq., much to that gentleman's gratification and satisfaction. Whereupon Simon Seek, Esq., drew-up his address to the Independent Electors of the Oounty of Phlareup, and therein propounded such principles that the whole company of ten souls, the original agitators, were so completely scared that they rushed straightway in a body to the ofiBce of Simon Seek, Esq., to demand an explanation; and having btien favored with the same, became so thoroughly horrified at the independence and principle therein manifested, that they all forth- with deserted him to a man, and, in a fit of despair, rushed precipitately to the habitation of the flexible Doughy, and called upon him to come forward like a man and defend them, from the impending calamity of having for their re- presentative a man of independence and prin- ciple, and, above all, that had the ability to make use of them. Doughy was not the kind of man to hesitate in a matter of this sort. Doughy knew very well the value of six dollars a day and perquisites. And therefore Doughy came forward like a man, sure enough. And as the Address of Simon Seek, Esq., had found favor in the eyes of a goodly portion of the county, and friends and supporters came pour- ing-in from all sides, the whole county from one end to the >ther was forthwith placarded, in all the colors of the rainbow, calling upon all men of independence and principle to vote for Doughy on the one side, and Seek on the other ; and a nine days' conflagration of towns and villages, and parties and individuals, was therein inaugurated. Now, at this period of Canadian history, there were several great and important questions agitating the political worlds, or rather the political, civil, and religious world, as impor- tant questions usually do in Canada ; and party feeling was running high, — in fact, so high that it was fast over-reaching itself. There was the Permanent Seat of Government question ; the Representation by Population question ; the Double-Majority question ; the Re-Adjust- ment of the Tarifif or Protection question ; the Separate Schools' question ; and the Hudson Bay question; together with an infinite variety of smaller questions on every questionable sub- ject that political ingenuity and party interest (usually compound) could possibly suggest; all of which, like questions generally, were of course very much easier put than answered. The Seat of Government question was a great question, in which all the great towns were of course vitally interested ; because wherever the Government was located, experience had shown that property would straightway run-up to the very top of the ladder, and " assume a valut if it had it not," which of course was a thing devoutly to be wished : notwithstanding that experience had also shown, that, being founded on nothing, the assumption was gene- rally somewhat ephemeral ; that, as the value was fabulous, so the realization of it was a fable ; and that, before the hopefbl adventurer had so much as regaled himself with the first scent of the visionary feast, the reaction had commenced, and down came the castle pell- mell from its aerial elevation.— the fable was run-out, and the moral was below it, — business paralyzed, resources crippled, confidence no- where, employment a chimera, and a general stagnation the only one thing certain. Such being the boon to be obtained, it is scarcely to be wondered at that each of the candidates for the distinction should fight for it manfully,— and they fought for it manfully accordingly ; and not being able to fight it out to a satisfac- tory solution among themselves, they ultimate- ly hit upon the happy expedient of calling-in the aid of Her Most Gracious Majesty as arbiter, who, seeing that the question was purely a local one, would be sure to know all about it and give her decision accordingly. They therefore at once prepared their petition, hum- bly praying that Her Majesty would be gra- ciously pleased to set aside the little barrier of the Atlantic, and any little difficulty that might arise in her mind from a want of know- ledge and experience of the nature anA re- quirements of the country, — such as any trifl- ing doubt as to whether its inhabitants still resided in wigwams and followed the chase for a livelihood, or whether the St. Lawrence was most resembled by the Thames or the Lea, or if Ontario was anything to be compared to Windermere, or Superior was much superior to the Hampstead Ponds, or in fact any little trifle of that sort ; and thereupon graciously settle the dispute as might seem unto her best for the interest and pros- perity of the country generally, by settling- down the Government in a seat in which it OF SIMON SEEK. 140 Btionable sub* party intereBt Ibly suggest; ■ally, were of answered, on was a great owns were of ^use wherever ixperience had jhtway run-up ad " assume a f course was a ttwithstanding n, that, being tion was gene- t, as the value in of it was a sful adventurer f with the first le reaction had Lhe castle pell- — the fable was w it, — ^business confidence no- , and a general certain. Such it is scarcely to b candidates for it manfully,— ly accordingly j ut to a satisfac- 9, they ultimate- ent of calling-in Bjesty as arbiter, 1 was purely a low all about it irdingly. They r petition, hum- r would be gra- little barrier of difficulty that want of know- nature anA re- uch as any trifl- its inhabitants followed the vhether the St. by the Thames as anything to or Superior was pstead Ponds, that sort ; and dispute as might iterest and pros- ily, by settling- leat in which it might henceforward recline with the greatest amount of security a id ease. To which hum- hie petition Her Majesty most graciously re- plied, and presented them with a seat, that certainly, to all intents and purposes, was an easy-chair— a quiet, retired little scat, in which one would have tuor.ght the Oovernment might have reclined for the rest of its days in happy unconsciousness of the great Babel in which its youth had been jostled, jogging along quiet)y and cosily, secure from intrusion, and at peace with the whole world. But the hum- ble petitioners had no sooner received that gracious decision, than they straightway found- out their mistalce, and said : " No ; we are humbly obliged to your Majesty for your Ma- jesty's prompt and piraoious consideration of our humble petil'on ; but we beg humbly to submit, that your Majesty evidently knows no more about the subject than we do ourselves ; and therefore, with your Majesty's gracious permission, we will just put your Majesty's deci- sion on the shelf, and decide the matter for ourselves." — And the Seat of Oovernment ques- tion was therefore a qu^st . y 41. The Representation l: >. ation question was a question arising fixJiu ine fact, that the Upper and Lower Provinces having been united together and made one Province— a nice line of division, sectional antagonism, and individual interests beiug at the same time established and pertinaciously maintained with the view to keep them two, — it was ultimately discovered that the Upper Section contained some thou- obuds more of inhabitants than the Lower Sec- tion, and it was therefore argued that it ought consequently to be entitled to send a correspond- ing extra number of representatives to Parlia- ment; an argument which, of course, was absurd in the extreme, because, as an honorable member from the Lower Section contended on the floor of the House, it would be just as reasonable to de- mand that because the city of Montreal was half as large again as Toronto, it should have three representatives, while Toronto had but two ; a powerful argument, of course, had it not been somewhat counterbalanced by the ft ct that the said difference of representation of three to two in two towns did really exist : the gentle intimation of which by another honorable member, at once caused the first honorable member who had produced the argument, to make an ignominious retreat into his seat, amidst a perfect tornado of ironical cheers ; and it is believed that "Representation" would instantly have obtained, had it not been for the power- ful arguments of another honorable member, wbD took the ilo^r ?.nd proceeded to say that he was perfectly prepared to go the whole hog. of Representation, if an^ honorable member would undertake to prove to him that any such thing as an Union of the Provinces did in reality exist at all — that, in fact, the Union altoge- ther wasn't a delusion, a bugbear, and a lie ; that the sole end and aitn and object of each individual Section had not been, from the first to the last, to subdue, to control, to govern- in a word, to subjugate the other ; and how waj he to know that this was not in reality a subjugation movement ? Not but what he was of opinion that a little wholesome contention, and strife, and animosity between the two sec- tions, when fairly balanced ab now, was good and desirable, inasmuch as it tended to deve- lope the resources of the country, to promote industry, to strengthen confidence, and to bring everything i frn to its proper level (he was a grain and lumber jobber), in proof of which he instanced the flourishing and pros- porous state of the country at the present mo- ment : and this argument on the whole was considered so entirely satisfactory, that Repre- sentation by Population is also a question still. The " Double-Majority " question was a sort of compromise question between a repeal of the Union,subjugation,and Representation byPopu- l.«tion,and was a kind of double compound com- plication of complex incomprehensibilities, the only object of which appeared to be to get-up a sortof politicalquadrilleonthe floor of the House between the ins and the outs, and the outs and the ins, by virtue of which they would be changing places and dancing from one side of the House to the other about every hour or so, to the tune of Upper and Lower Non-Confidence. The Tariff' or Protection question was a sim- ple question as to whether Canadians should continue to be, as they had hitherto been, hewers of wood and growers of grain to the American Nation generally ; whether Cana- dians should continue to hew wood for the Americans at just what price they chose to give for it, in order that the Americans might make chairs and tables for the Canadians at just what price they chose to ask for them ; whether Canadians should continue rag-pickers to the Americans that the Americans might continue paper-makers to the Canadians, — and everything else by the same rule ; or Cana- dians should take upon themselves to do a 10 am 180 LIFE AND ADVENTURES '1 Wi' little manafaoturing on their own account, and lay the foundation for something lilte na- tional soliditj and independence ;— whether Canada should consume her own grain, her own rags, her own minerals, and use her own water-power, and thereby keep her own gold ; or whether Americans, and Oermans, and fo- reigners generally, should consume them all for her, and drain her coffers dry the same time by way of an offset. Some w : «, of course found bold, adventurous, and da^'ing enough to assert that Canadians had a right to look after their own interests and to do a little of the more respectable of the work for them- selTes ; while others again maintained that the sole object of their existence was to sow and reap, and hew, and pick rags, and scrape-toge- ther the dollars for the promotion of the pros- perity, happinef^u, and indepepdence of all and every the Americans, Oermans, and foreigners generally throughout the world : and hence the Tariff or Protection question. And then there was the Hudson's Bay ques- . tion, which in fact was a Red River and Prairie question, which has since resolved itself into a Gold and Frazer River question, through which thesolution to thewholequestionisnowin course of active preparation. Then there were Rail- way questions, and Canal questions, and Fish- ery questions, and Militia questions, and ques- tions of every grade and denomination ; reli- gious questions, party questions, and individual questions ; everything questionable, everybody questijnable, nobody answerable, all question- able together, — a great universal stumbling- block of questionable questions. This being the questionable condition of the political world, it is not surprising that the moment Simon Seek, Esq. had plunged into its midst, he became a questionable individual-- a very questionable individual indeed ; that every tailor, shoemaker, blacksmith, farm-la- borer, cheese-monger, and grocer came forward with his question, and questioned to the very top of his bent — in fact that he appeared for the time to have no such thing as a bend about him, rising-up from his obscurity one long, stiff, rigid, inflexible incarnation of impossible inter- rogatives. It is not surprising that from the moment Le was heralded to the world as the heir presumptive to the honor of representing that flourishing county in the forthcoming Par- liament, his chambers should have been de- clared straightway in a state of siege ; that his private residence should have become at once the common property ; that bis person should have been regarded at a sort of public pump at which the country generally had a right to slakeits political thirst; thathe shouldhave been accosted in the streets, secured and pinioned for hours together against lamp-posts, hailed from windows, dragged per force into beer- shops, thrust pell-mell into the midst of drun- ken squabbles, and jostled-aboui; among pot- politicians and quacks and rabble; carried from place to place and exhibited like a fat boy or an arithmetical pig ; slapped on the back by uncouth hands and cheered-on to the contest like a prize-fighter in a ring ; denounced as a boy, applauded as a "brick," abused as a sharper, defended as a " cute 'un," — threatened, challenged, insulted, doomed, and in fact treated to the honors and attentions generally accompanying the initiation of a candidate for that honorable distinction. Neither was it surprising that within three days after his lau- dable aspirations were made known, all the shelves in his office, all the wood, tin, and iron boxes in the same place, every drawer in his desk and the desk itself, the floor and the table, the chest of drawers in his own private bed- room, and even the pillow and the bolster, and every pocket in every coat and also in the unmentionable continuations, should have been strewed, crammed full, and overflowed with something like half of the whole available stock of yellow, cream-laid, and other enve- lopes, enclosing the like proportion of note, foolscap, blue-post, Bath, sugar, tea, butter, and other papers, on which all the questions, all the thoughts, all the troubles, difficulties, calamities, disasters, and the political, moral, re- ligious, and social afflictions that the whole county from one end to the other ever had, would, or could by any earthly possibility have, were propounded and inscribed and di- lated-on in a unique collection of pot-hooks and hangers and mutilated English, and hiero- glyphics, and wild emulations of the dead languages generally, before which all the little trifles of Nineveh and Egypt and the perfectly transparent simplicities of the Chinese would have been as nothing, a bubble in the ocean, a speck in the universe, or, as Mr. Albosh would have had it, a mere bagatelle. Neither is it surprising that he was straightway hunted from one end of the county to the other ; that a thorough systematic chase was instantly es- tablished for the purpose of running him down at every turn ; that from his private residence to his office, from the office to the committee- room, from the committee-room to the office ' public pump ad a right to )uldhave been and pinioned -posts, hailed rce into beer- aidst of dcun- li among pot- s', carried from B a fat boy or i the back by to the contest [enounced as a abused as a » — threatened, , and in fact tions generally a candidate for (Neither was it rs after his lau- known, all the jd, tin, and iron y drawer in his tr and the table, irn private bed- tbe bolster, and wd also in the hould have been arerflowed with irhole available ,nd other enve- portion of note, ;ar, tea, butter, LI the questions, bles, difficulties, litical, moral, re- thatthe whole other ever had, rthly possibility nscribed and di- ion of pot-hooks iglish, and hiero- >na of the dead hich all the little and the perfectly le Chinese would ble in the ocean, Mr. Albosh would He. Neither is it aightway hunted the other; that was instantly es- unning him down private residence the committee- oom to the office «ind from the office to hit private reaidenee Again — thence into hio bed-room, thence into the very bed itself, and anon, away again, five, foar, three in the morning — hurrah t there's Seek, rnn-down the buggy, stop the horse, a few qneations if you please I Night and day *!id all honrs and all places, still he is pursued, ^juestion on question, threat upon threat, •ehat^e upon charge. He is the public utensil ; nothing appertaining to him is his own ; not a 'word nor thought nor idea, nor night nor day ; not one solitary individual atom of either his mental d^ physical existence — he Is the public property, and the public do with him as thev •will. Much less is it surprising that businpss was for the time suspended, that butchers and bakers and grocers, and hardwares and soft wares and dry wares, all deserted their coun- ters and their blocks and their yard-sticks, and rushed pell-mell to the saloons and hotels to deftsnd their liberties, to propound principles, to crush opponents, to hear nobody's argu- ments, and to drink anybody's cocktails; that small groups of all sizes, shapes, forms, characters, and of no characters at aV, were to be seen congregated at every corner, clniitcred at every window, filling the shops and overrunning ths market-places, — all politicians, all big with a question, all patriots, all indignant, all immaculate, all ready to come forward and save the country from eternal ruin at any given moment, and to establish a uni- versal calm throughout the length and breadth of the land, — and all zealously forwarding the good work by firing-up a little pctndemo- nium of anarchy and brawl among them- selves; — that zealous-hearted electors should be seen to collar one another in the streets and endeavour to shake their respective antago- nisms out of their respective bodies by main force ; that carts and vehicles of all sorts tihbuld bo seen to bring-up suddenly in the road, while their respective owners lashed about their arguments at one another, and, in the event of their failing to convince, having straightway resource to their whips as a more persuasive medium, and lashing them as freely as their arguments about each other's bodies, andthenrushingaway again to meetthenext op- nenton the same footing, and so as it were literal- ly to cut and carve their way before them ;-that one side of the street threw-up their windows to abuse their political opponents (every one be- ing of necessity the opponent of some one else) on the other side of the street ; that Jones dis- covered suddenly, and without any previous intimation of the flict, that he was just the man to pnlt the BOM of his avowed fWend and com- panion Smith ; while Smith, on the defensive, and purely out of Idve for the country of his adoption felt himself prepared to Inflict igno- ble chastisement on the dark side of the eco- nomy of his once esteemed friend Jones at any time that he (Jones) should bring so much as his little finger into anything like undue prox- imity with that ft-agment of private property appertaining to the countenance of Smith ; that Brown ftirthermore held himself in perfect readiness at any given moment to summarily annihilate the whole race of Smiths and Joneses on his country's behalf fbr the trifling consi- deration of a solitary *' red cent," Jt on the smallest possible particle tton either side of either of their respective countenances being tendered to him; that Thompson went in to the death for the patriotic and impartial Doughy, while Johnson was ready to walk over the dead bodies of any required number of his best friends to the safe return of the im- maculate Seek ; that every one was up in arms against every one else ; that nobody thought as you thought, and yon thought as nobody else thought ; that agricultural interests, and manu- fteturing interests, and railway interests, and rivet, lake, and wood interests, together with a thousand and one private and individual inter- ests, were all Jostled together, and heaped'up in one great, heterogeneous pile, and set burn- ing and biasing and flaring aw^y, a great ^nd glorious conflagration, a social Etna, with Doughy and Seek and Seek and Doughy kept dancing to and fro on the top of all— ^ow sing* ing-away in the very heart of the flames, now lost in the smoke, and anon rumbling through the blazing mass, with a sear here, and s, bum there, and a blister somewhere else, and so on, flaming and burning and boiling and roasting to the end of the chapter : that this should all obtain, and ten thousand times more, is of course only reasonable and natural— a part and parcel of the glorious institution, without which its very life and soul and purpose would be lost and nuUifled. The " day of the poll " was an eventful day for all the Plumleys, as it was for the whole county. Business was suspended, crowds as- sembled, fires broke out, men, women, and children of every grade, denomination, color, caste, and language, had something to say and something to do in the political cause ; every one ready to slander every one el8e,-~'lawyetv, I'tS LIFE AND ADVENTURES <•. I Ik ;.'«li .'■ i m '» i editors, merchants, farmers, bakers, butchers, grocers, tailors, shoemakers, scaTengers, pick- pockets, and vagabonds generally, all jostling together, all friends and pot-oompanions, all enemies and sworn antagonists, all learned poli- ticians and philanthropists for the time,— every one an interest, every one a question, every one a principle, — all determined and resolute, and wild and ram pant, rushing toand fro, declaiming here and arguing there, and brawling er r^. where at one and the same time, — now for F and then for Doughy, and anon for both ■ ther: and thus they rumble and tumble uua jostle to the poll- so let us follow in their wake, and see what is to be seen. The day had scarcely dawned when people began to rush to and fro from all quarters, and among them were two individuals who soon became the focus as it were of the general eye. In stature and general effect they were unques- tionably something inferior to the ordinary run, the whole extent of sorface of iLc two de- velopments combined perhaps scarcely mea- suring more in superficial inches than about two thirds of the total of any full-grown spe- cimen of the sames pecies ; but it soon became manifest that for strength of purpose, agility of movement, and indomitable courage, they were entirely without parallel, at least in that quarter of the globe. They were seen flying from place to place, now in buggies, now In cabs, and now on foot; huntini;-up fugitive electors from all kinds of impossil !« haunts,— now diving into villages, up highways and down byeways, and fishing-up a cab-load here and a buggy-load there, and sending them rolling away to the poll ; and anon rushing over fields and breaks and ditches and quag- mires, and turning-up asthmatic old gentlemen from their covers, and startling lethargic young gentlemen from the plough-tail, and collaring hold of plethoric middle-aged indivi- duals from their easy-chairs, and dragging them all away after them, and sending them rolling down with the stream to the great ren- dezvous — to the poll, gentlemen, all to the poll, and hurrah for Seek I They appeared to be in all parts of the county at one and the same time ; always together and yet always rushing different ways ; always in motion, always with an elector under escort, always holding forth and speechifying and ar- guing with some one, and yet always looking after somebody else ; always cheerful and jolly and excited, and so they went on until the polling was considerably advanced, and the results, wherever they were ascertained, were already showing in favor of Seek. It was nearly noon when these twc indivi- duals met suddenly — each in a buggy and driving in opposite directions— at a little dis- tance from the residence of the Plamleys, and accosted each other in piecisely t. e following terms : " Here you are — here you are, then," cried the smallest individual, who was driving alone, and appeared in a higher state of excitement than usual, "and contumaciously lucky it is I've found you. Here's a pretty perspicacious elucidation, and no mistake." " Ay," cried the other, " what are they up-to now? Seek's ahead everywhere so far, and not exactly by a bagatelle either." " By the inscrutible fates," said the other, " if we — Where's Plumley?" " I have just left him in the town." " Then contumaciously fly after him, Albosh — fly for your life and bring him down to Blazo, with all the auxiliaries you can muster, or the game's up. What do you suppose is the dodge ? Why, the pertiuacioua scoundrels are taking possession of all the polling-places. They are now at Blazo, — I have just left them there, — and they have sent another gang off to Splurge ; and, by George, if we don't dislodge them, not another homogeneous vote will Seek get in either place." " Confusion to them," said Mr. Albosh. " We must muster a troupe. Here, I'll go back to the town. I'll bring them down upon them." " That's the move," cried Mr. Kwack. "I'll scour the country round at the same tim). And just tell them that the electors are bei'ig pertinaciously intimidated into Doughyites ouo after another, nolns volus. Here, stop I I for- got to tell you. Here's the richest thing of all. Who, in the name of the seven wonders, do you think is heading the gang and leading them on ? Why, that Yankee sharper Slicker, and his friend. Yes, there they are, in the height of their glory, threatening eternal annihilation to everything but Doughyites, and swearing if Doughy don't go in to burn-out every opponent he has got. What do you think of that, my boy I However, we'll talk to them. You hunt them up that way — bring down a regiment of them, if you can — and I'll undertake to do my share of it. — They only want a leader — that's what they want, and 1 11 undertake to say we'll dis- lodge them in ha. fan hour. So off you go, and hurrah for Seek!' " All right," said Albosh. " Be on the spot in ,ined, were Iwc Indlvl- buggy »nd i little dis- mleys, and 9 following then," cried iving alone, ' excitement lucky it is erapicacioug e they up-to BO far, and he other, "if him, Albosh lim down to can muster, appose is the ioundrels are tiling-places, ast left them ir gang off to on't dislodge Dte will Seek Ibosb, "We 1 go back to ipon them." wack. "HI > same timi. rs are bei'ig )ughyites ouo stop ! I for- t thing of all. nders, do you leading them Slicker, and in the height annihilation d swearing if 'ery opponent that, my boy I ou hunt them nent of them, do my share -that's what say we'll dis- ff you go, and on the spot in half an hour ; and if we don't have a pitched battle, theio's more bosh about my name than I give credit for. So off we go, and hurrah for Seek I" So saying Mr. Albosh rattled away back again to the town, while Mr. Kwack returned whence he had come, and set to work to raise the whole neighbourhood about. He stopped every one he met or overtook on the road with the interrogative, "Are you for Seek?" And if they answered in the affirmative, he at once favored them with a patriotic oration and en- listed their services in the cause. He hailed every one he saw — farmers on their grounds, and at th»'r windows, and in their stables — labourers .a the fields, at the plough, or in the ditch— wood-choppers and idlers, and even call- ed upon the farmer's wives to stir-up the virtu- ous indignation in tlieir other halves, and send them on in the cause of liberty and their own rights. And in less than half an hour he had collected fifteen buggies and a small regiment of farmers and laborers — formidable-looking fellows, all zealous to the back-bone for the liberty of the subject and freedom of thought and action^ which they manifested as they rattled alnufif the road with their ardent little leader at their head, by proclaiming annihila- f ion to the whole and entire compact of Dougliy- .tes, and Seek forever — dotvn with Doughy- it £8, and hurrah for Seek 1 " Now then,elector8,friends,and compatriots," cried Mr. Kwack e.s he drove into the village of Blazo at the head of this warlike assemblage, " here we are — this is the scene of homogeneous action. Now let us draw-up in line and face the rebels, like men, free men, and cosmopoli- tans. There, you see where they are. That's the polling-place — entirely circumscribed by the Doughyite rebels — not a free elector will be allowed to pass, and theru they are filling- up the poll-books — your poll-books, friends, just as they please. What do you thiik of this, electors and free men of the county of Phlare- np?" "Down with them — clear the poll!" cried the free men and electors to a man. " Hurrah for Doughy, and down with the Se.jkers 1" shouted the rebels as soon as they hi.ard the war-cry of the invading party. They were assembled in front of the store which was occupied as the "polling-booth," and mustered something like two hundred strong, of a class that appeared to be very much more inclined to 'drams than scruples ; and there is reason to be- lieve that as soon as the Kwack's party began to get a little correct insight into their real character and extent, their patriotic ardor wai in a slight degree damped, which, being perceiv- ed by their leader, ind,uced him to remark, " Friends, the rebels are strong in numbers, but ours is in the good cause, and I shouldn't despair of routing them at one charge ; but I am expecting reinforcements every moment, and until they arrive we'll just fall-back on our positions, and in the mean time I will go for- ward and see if an honorable armistice can be negotiated without a direct recourse to hostili- ties." So saying the gallant leader placed his forces in order, and then drove deliberately up to confront the rebels. " Now then make way, make way here," he cried endeavouring to force his way through the crowd. " Ay, heow d'ye dew," cried a voice coming over the heads of the crowd from out of the store. Mr. Kwack looked in the direction whence the nasal twang was still ringing, and there he saw the head of Mr. Slicker nodding and smiling upon him from the open window of the store in the blandest manner possible. " Oh, how d'ye do, how d'ye do, my sharp friend," replied Mr. Kwack. " You are the very man I am looking for. Now, as you seem to be the ring-leader of this revolutionary movement, I want to ask you if you are dicj osed quietly to remove this rebel band (oh, I'm not afraid of you," he added in parenthesis as a movement bocame visible on the part of the band) " of in- surrection and intimidation, and so allow the freedom and purity of election among Her Majesty's subjects to proceed without abstruc- tion ? or must we " " Guess we'll do the proper thing," interposed Mr. Slicker. " Consider we're here on the Doughy party, and guess we'll stick to it tew ; no mistake 'bout that." " By the unmitigated fates !" cried Mr. Kwack " if we dont crush this " " Hurrah for Doughy," cried Mr. Slicker, "and down with the Seekers, boys 1" " Down with the Seekers I" cried the boys, taking the cue, and half a dozen instantly made a rush at the horse's bridle and commenced pushing the buggy before them. " Hold off," cried Mr. Kwack rising-up on the defensive, whip in hand. " Down with him," cried the mob, and the champion was instantly surrounded on all sides, the horse began to rear and plunge, the cham- pion began to lash his whip about him in a 164 LIFE AND ADVENTURES f m i- I lift mof t r«8olut« mftnner, catcliing a cheek here, A nose there, iwd an 9j« somewhere else, until tka boys got completely furioua, and, ibouting *' Turn him over," " Orer with the buggy," made another plunge on the rehicle, and down went the horse and over went the champion, buggy and all, into the midst of the infuriated boys. Juit then ar shout was heard to proceed from the champion's party in the distance, and, as it Doeurred to him that it was bis reinforce- ments headed by his friend Albosh, he made « desperate plunge i.mong his assailants, screwed and twisted himself about into all kinds of shapes to extricate himself from their grasp, and, assisted by the eel-like character of his physical formation, he broke loose here, slipped through there, tripped-up this one, and eluded that one, until away he came altogether, excepting his coat, and flew breathless and rampant to his friend. "By George, Mr. Kwack, what's this here?" said a ruddy-looking individual who had a special-constable's ribon on his arm and a regular ionstable's-staff in his hand, coming forwaru to meet him with several individuals similarly accoutred in his train. "Plumley," said Mr. Kwack, taking the special constable fervently by the hand, " they haven't done it yet. I'll undertake to lead any band of a dozen men through the whole herd. What's this 1" he added as if the other's remark had just reached his scattered perceptives "why,anarchy,revolution, revolt, and dastardly intimidation, for the avowed object of defraud- ing justice and placing an unmitigated black- leg at the top of the poll." "By George, they wont do that," said Mr. Plumley. " No, no ; let's have justice— by George, let's have justice." " Then we must have it by force," said Mr. Kwack. " Then force we will have," returned Mr.Plum- iey. " Here comes Albosh, and here's William, and we have brought down about fifty more, so I think we'll try, at all events." "Try! I should shy we would," criel Mr. Albosh. " Here, they all say they are ready. Now, then, friends who's ready to dislodge these rascals ?" ho shouted to the assemblage gener- ally. " All, all 1 Down with the scoundrels 1" cried the friends in a body. " By George, come along then," shouted Mr. Plumley, " fall into order, and, as I've got a bit of legal authority to do it, I'll lead you. Gome along 1" In a few minutes they were all in order and looking ready for anything ; and with Messrs. Plumley, Kwack, Albosh, and William at their head, they marched-on in a body to confront tb9 rebels. "Now, then, open way here in the Queen's name," shouted Mr. Plumley as they cams abreast of the crowd. This request lOwever was only received by the rebels witb lb rlcss shouts of " Down with them," "Keep them back," and " Doughy for ever," in the midst of which Mr. Slicker appear> ed at the window elevated above their headSt and called upon them to fight for it and to drive every individual " Seeker " to Halifax or elsewhere, but at any hazard to keep them back every man of them, promising to liquor them all at his own ^.cpense as soon as they gained the victory. " Oh, you really mean that, do you I" cried Mr. Plumley making his preparations. " I guess that's 'bout it tew,"cried Mr. Slicker, secure in his retreat. " Come on, lads, then," shouted Mr. Pluml^/. " Hurrah for Seek and justice I" " Hurrah 1" shouted the party, and away they dashed, oae and all, pell-mell upon the rebels, and down went the foremost, and slash, crash went the sticks; and a hand-to-hnnd, head-to- head, stick-to-stick scufiBe ensued, in the midst of a tornado of shouting and yellin,^ and yelp- ing that startled the whole village fiom one end to the other. " That's right I down with them, down with them, push away 1" cried Mr. Kwack, who was slipping in and out and about the legs of the rebels like an eel. " By the Fates, I'll be in ths first now. On, on, to victory 1" " By Jupiter, no you wont," cried Mr. Albosh who was laying about him in a most alarming style for the shins and hip-bones of his oppo- nents. " Come on, that's the way ; here we go." " Why, confound you," cried William who found himself suddenly pinioned by half a dozen of the rebels at once, " come out in the open ground in fair fight and I'll be answerable for any round dozen of you, you ruflSanly puppies you I Oh ! down you go — that's the way ; now then, who's the next ? We'll have you out of tbi» in less tlian no time ." There were very few weapons of any kind on either side, and it was just a hand-to-hand school-boy scuffle ; but however the rebels very soon began to find that they were getting the worst of it, and they fell back here, slunk off there, and soon began to give way on all sides, OF SIMON SEEK. 155 in order and nvith Heiirt. Ham at their confront the the Queen'9 they came received by ' Down with ' Doughy for icker appear* I their heads, for it and to to Halifax or } Iceep them ling to liquor goon as they > you I" oried ons. d Mr. Slicker, Mr. Plumlv /. ,nd away they on the rebels, i slash, crash and, head-to> I, in the midst in.if and yelp- sfiomoneend m, down with ack, who was e legs of the B, I'll be in the ed Mr. Albosb lost alarming !S of his oppo- ; here we go." William who )y half a dozen it in the open mswerable for Sanly puppies the way ; now ve you out of * ?f any kind on hand-to-hand the rebels very re getting the here, slunk off ly on all sides. notwithatanding that the valiaut Slicker stood back upon the window-sill, cheering them on and throwing about his promissory-notiis indis- criminately in all directions : and in a rery fsw minutes the besieging party bad made their way to within a few feet of that gentleman himself. " Now then, Mr. Yankee, yon are my prisoner," cried Mr. Plumley making a clutch at Mr. Yankee's leg and holding-up his staff, at the same time, as his badge of authority. " Ah I Yankees I" cried his followers ; " down with the Yankees I" and a general rush was made upon the window, and away flew the op- posing obstacles on both sides, rolling-over one another, dashing their heads together, and sprawling-abnut in all the confusion of a rout- ed party, and at the same time over came Mr. Slicker, crash into the arms of his ussailants. "Hold him — he's the ring-leading rascal," cried Mr. Kwaek, as he observed the rascal mak- ing a desperate resistance, and attempting to escape. " All right — I've got him," said Mr. Plumley who had seized hold of the prostrated rascal's leg, and had commenced to drag him thereby into the store, which was now almost vacated. But before he could drag him over the thres- hold, a sudden and unexpected rush was made towards him by the half-vanquished rebels, and a desperate struggle ensued, in the midst of which the rascal re-secured his leg, and, crawl- Ing-out between the legs of the crowd and re- gaining his footing, took to his heels, shouting to his defeated gang, "Never mind, boys. Let them have it, I guess. Let's ofi\c> Splurg.1. Come along; hur- rah for Doughy !" With which invitation, the rebels set-up a victorious shout and followed their valiant leader in a body. " Well, here we are, here we are, friends !" cried Mr. Ewack jumping on the evacuated window-sill. " Hurrah for victory, and three cheers for Seek and justice I" an appeal which was scarcely necessary, seeing that he could scarcely hear hia own voice for the already deafening shouts and hurrahs by which he was surrounded. " Well, now then, friends," said Mr. Plumley, " there's no time to lose. We must just set things in order here, and then after them to Splurge." " All right," cried Mr. Kwack, leaping into the store. " Oh, so here are the books. Where are the clerks and the rest of them, T wonder ? I luppote they 've been contumaeiouily Intimidated. Hi ho I what have we here? •— wbat'e this?" he added examining an open book upon the desk and then reftrring to the poll-book. " Why, (Viends, look here," he shouted ; " letne see — D, D, D, why, why, look here, here's a dodge. If the contumacious sconndrels haven't actually been filllng-np the poll-book out of a Yankee Directory. Look, here they are— 0, 0, C, D, D, D, actually in al- phabetical order page after page. Well, if this is a Yankee dodge, upon my word I'm aorry for them. Why, a fellow that was pertinaoioasly nun eompati would scarcely be inscrutably cadaverous enough to do sucb a transparent Job as this." At this moment a small voice was heard In the crowd calling out, " Mr. Plumley, sir, Mr. Plumley, sir ; here's a reglar go, sir," while a small individual in fustian was seen wedging and curling and twisting his way towards the door of the store with a total disregard for his own personal safety that at once stamped him as a phenomenon of which the fellow was un« known. "Well, Timothy lad, what nw?" said Mr, Plumley, as soon as the phenomenon's head had wedged itself in at the door-way, which it pre- sently had, independently of the appurtenances that usually accompany intelligent heads, which were still struggling somewhere among the crowd. " Why, a reg'lar go, sir, at Rnmpas, sir. A mob's been an' got the poll, sir, and they ses as they're goin' to 'lect Doughy right off, sir," replied Timothy. " Oh, are they," said Mr. Plumley. " Do you hear that, Mr. Kwack ? at Rumpas. Oome along lads," he shouted to his followers outside, " they've got possession of the poll at Rumpas. Bring down the horses ; look alive, lads. We'll just leave a guard here to see that every one has fair play — let them all have justice, but, by George, no violence 1" Having found the Polling Officers and in- stalled them again in their placs, and left a guard, with William at its head, to maintain order, they crowded again into the carts and cabs and buggies, which by this time lined the village from one end to the other, and drove off in strong force for Rumpas. Here they found the Sheriff of the county and several other oflBcers and gentlemen doing their utmost to restore order, and in a state of great consternation at the utter failure of their offi- cial authority. The polling-place was entirely 180 LIFE AND ADVENTURES N*!: P W' invtitod bj K DoiiRhj gang, and none but Doughyitea were allowed to paaa, notwith- •tanding the auguat preience and resolute de- meanour of Her majesty's officials. But on the arrival of the Plumley and Kwacic heroes the aspect of affairs was speedily changed. The gallant Sheriff, finding that entreaties and threats were alike ineffectual as a means of bringing the rebels tu a respect for order and his own authority, at once accepted the servi- ces of the heroes, and, placing himself judi- ciously in their reiir, proceeded fearlessly to cheer them on to the attack. Another similar scuffle to that which they had just encounteted at Blazo ensued, with the exception, that, tlie rebels being here in inferior force, the resistance was much less determined and the assault aU together much shorter, and that it terminated In the securing and taking into custody of several of the ringleaders including Mr. Slick- er's friend Lecute, who was found to be at the head of affairs, although he stoutly ♦protested -that he wos there for no other purpose than to •see the " fun "; which the Sheriff at onc^ pro- nounced to be a direct evidence of his gui'v, in- «smuch as he could find the audacity to inti- mate that sucli a lawless and flagrant vriolation of order and contempt of authority was any- thing approximating to an innocent recreation as implied in the lugenuouB monosyllable " fun." On getting inside, they found the Returning Officer lying at full length under the desk in a Btateofhappyunconsciousnessof things general- ly, with a whiakeybottle inonehand andthe poll- book in the other, having apparently been true to the last ; while odd leaves were strewed about the floor, some with the names obliterated, others filled-up with a unique assortment of imaginary electors taken from the world gene- rally, and ranging from Queen Victoria to com- missioner Yeh, and thence tlirough the whole tribe of Indian celebrities, from Nana Sahib on- wards, all of whom appeared to have voted for the immaculate Doughy. Having re-established affairs on a proper con- stitutional footing at Ruiupas, the heroes again started-off for Splurge, where the rebels were assembled in considerable force under their Yankee leader Slicker. Here also they found the immaculate Doughy himself cheering-on the rebels and throwing-a'bout tlie prospective dollars to a reckless extent ; but the heroes' numbers had been too decidedly increased and their courage too much augmented by their recent successes to admit of any lengthened or effective opposition from the whole force of the Doughyitei throughout the whole county ; and a very few minutes sufficed to dislodge them from their position at Splurge, and to send them scampering away again to the next rendezroui. And so the heroes kept dodgin,'^ from place to place all day, until in the evening, just before the closing of the poll, they found tliemselvei in the town in which Simon was located, and where tht mob had concentrated the whole of their strength for a last dying struggle to se- cure the poll-books, whicii were her. ,lhe most importantof any place in the country. A short, but determined contest ensued, in which a goodly collection of blows, and a miscellane- ous assortment of second and third class bruises and disfigurations were exchanged from one side to the othor ; but the heroes of justice and defenders of right, according to the good old dramatic rule, were of course the ultimate conquerors, and the buoks were preserved in all their native purity, and the electoral prerog- ative maintained inviolate : the poll closed, and the result was forthwith heralded from one end of the country to the other, to the eternal dis- comfiture of Doughy p.nd his party, with Seek figuring (in pretiy round figures too) at the top. Everything thus satisfactorily settled, Mr. Kwack, accompanied by Messrs. Plumley and Albosh, repaired with all despatch to give an account of his stewardship to bis lord and mas- ter, whom he found just escaped for a few mo- ments from the turmoil, and seated alone in hta private office apparently in a state of extreme dejection. " Mr. Seek," said Mr. Kwack, appearing be- fore '.im breathless and agitated and over- flowing with emotion like a warrior before his general, fresh and reeking from a recent vic- tory, •' we've conquered. We've subdued the revolt, the rebels have been in every instance pertinaciously routed, and I have now to offer my humble congratulations to my esteemed and respected employer on his safe return to the Imperial Parliament of the Canadian Legisla- ture." '■' And," said Mr. Albosh, " perhaps I may be allowed to add my humble congratulations at the same time, and, in doing so, I would express a hope that our endeavours, humble as they have been, to maintain the public peace and the purity of election, and to suppress the in- surrectionary movement that has characterized the day's proceedings, have met with your approval and approbation ; assuring you, at the same time, that what we have had to contend !• county ; and dislodge tbem nd to tend them lit rendezroui. J from place to log, just before jnd themaelves IS located, and id the whole of struggle to se- s her ,lhe most iQtry. A short, d, in which a d a miacellane- ird class bruises Dgod from one 8 of justice and the good old the ultimate re preserved in lectoral prerog- poll closed, and id from one end the eternal dis- arty, with Seek es too) at the ily settled, Mr. s. Plumley and atch to give an is lord and mas- d for a few mo- lted alone in his itate of extreme :, appearing he- ated and over- rrior before his a a recent vic- re subdued the every instance ve now to offer 3y esteemed and s return to the nadian Legisla- erhaps I may be igratulations at 1 would express tumble as they iblic peace and suppress the in- is characterized met with your iiring you, at the had to contend OF SIMON SEEK. 157 with could scarcely be dsscribed as a baga- telle." " I assure yon, frieudi, you have my most sincere thanks," said Simon, " as I believe you have of the whule county. For while it affbcts mo personally, it of course affects the county generally ; for you have evidently prevented the perpetration of a gross flraud and injustice. I assure you, you have my most sincere acknow- ledgments, and I trust before long I may have the opportunity of expressing them in something a little more tangible than words." " Well, we've had a pretty warm day, Simon boy," said Mr. Plumley, " I can assure you. But, by George, we're paid for it. M. P. P., Member of Parliament. Well, by George, it's literal wonderful— wonderful, that's what it is, by George. But I see how it is, you're wor- ried, Simon. This day's been too much for you, so we wont disturb you. Do you think you will be able to get home to night ?" " I shall endeavour to," returned Simon. " I am a good deal worried. An election is a harassing piece of business, after all." " Will, sir," said Mr. Kwack, as they all pro- pared to leave, " I can only say for my part, that I am proud that circumstances have no elucidated as to enable me to appear before you again. For had wo not subdued them, had might triumphed over right, had not the categorical fundamentality of even-handed justice been systematically vindicated tliis day, to the pertinacious discomfiture of unmitigated fraud and corruption, — never could I have re- turned to these chambers with the ignominious stamp of cowardice and pusillanimity that a defeat so heterogeneous and incompatible would inevitably have entailed. We have sub- dued them, we have done our duty to our country and our employer, and nothincr more : our conduct ' approved, and we are saisfied." So saying Mr. Kwack made his obeisance in true military fashion, took his friend ly the arm, and withdrew with the warrior aud the victor stamped indelibly on his brow. Mr. Plumley invited *' em to accompany him home, whither he was only too glad to re- pair after the day's fatigue; but not so with Mr. Kwack and his friend. The stirring occurrences of the day, and the then state of the town and all the saloons and places of rendezvous there- in, afforded too tempting an opportunity for the development of his natural propensity and genius to admit of anything of the sort ; and Mr. P. was therefore left to return to the bosom of his family alone. Ho was nevertheless in high glee at the general success of the day's proceedings, and. on arriving home and finding his wife alone, he straightway caught her in his aims, danced her once or twice round the room, disarranged her cnp and put her hair la confusion, and exclaimed, " Hurrah !" " Oh, dear me, George dear," said Mrs. Flam' ley as soon as she had regained her breath, looking very serious indeed and almost bright- ened, "is he elected?" " Electoid," cried Mr. Plumley, '< by George, I should think so I Yes, our boy is M. P. P., Lisy girl." " Oh, I was afVaid so— I was afraid so," said Mrs. Plumley falling into a chair and burying her face in her hands. "Oh, the poor dear child, whatever will become oi'herl" " Why, Lizy, what's the meaning of this, girl," said Mr. Plumley completely taken aback at the strange reception of what he considered such capital news. " Oh, you don't know all, George dear; you don't know all," sobbed Mrs. Plumley. " The poor dear child. Simon will never marry her ; tie has told me all about it." " Eh, what, what — why, by George ;" stam- mered Mr. Plumley staggering back and look- ing incredulously at his wife, " and Simon act'ly told you that ; why, by George, you don't don't go to say that " " It's true, George — it's all true," said Mrs. Plumley ; " but I suppose he can't help it. He told me all about it. He said he was very miserable, and he couldn't drive it away, do what he would. He said he loved Lizy still as much as ever he did ; but there was a sort of strcnge — strange — spell I think ho c/illod it, Geoi je dear, that he couldn't shake off; and he said ho felt somehow that this election was go- ing to tell what the end of it would be ; and if he was made a member of parliament, he felt sure he should never marry Lizy. So there, George dear! Oh, my poor dear, dear Lizy, she's going to break her heart and die, I am sure she is." Mr. Plumley stood looking at his wife in mute astonishment for some minutes after she had stopped speaking, and appeared completely overcome by this direct avowal from Simon himself, which was essentially the opposite of what he had expected, for he had looked for- ward to the favorable termination of the elec- tion as the direct forerunner of his daughter's happiness, inasmuch as it would relieve Simon from that worry and perplexity of mind to which IM LIFE AND ADVENTURES b« h*pe, for he had ; and Alice had eed loved him, ear to a brother, : (Alice's) affec- And so, in a the foregoing 9ok leave of the ritb the McOa- {ht of her dear between whom lost sincere at- a, marked effect mfortunately it hope t^at the for the malady became at once ad walked and lOurs together, rther than whil- OF 81M0N SEEK. 15» Ing-away the time ; he kept himself almoat en- tirely at bis cbamben, searoely ever retarning home at night except on Sundays, and than ha mostly employed his time in writing and wan- dering about ; aid his eonduot was altogether so marked and strange, that Mr. Plumley was hardly restrained from giving vent to his ftal- ings, which were daily becoming deeper and stronger on the lubjcot, and which would seve- ral times have broken-out had it not been for the entreaties of his with, who, while she grieved as much as he did, had sufHoient perspioaoity to perceive that there was more to be hoped-for from a quiet, reconciling policy, than from accusation and blame, which could only have the tendency to render matters still worse by Irritating an already sufficiently ag- gravated wound. Thus the time wore on, heavily, wearily, and bitterly, both for the lovers themselves and their friends ; until Parliament had opened and the night on which Simon was expected to present his maiden speech to the world had arrived. His friends were all of course duly apprised of tho fact, and a general holiday was arranged, the day being spent with Philip and Mrs. Sorftish, at their now residence in King St., Toronto, where Philip had already established himself, although as yet without the little "an- gelic" addition to his estate, of which intima- tion was given when announcing tho fact of his forthcoming change in residence and posi- tion to the Plnmleys a month or two before. But, however, the general aspect of the estab- lishment, from the hall to the attic, and thence down again through the best bed-chamber, thence into tho most charming little room in the world, that looked extremely like a lady's boudoir, thence into the drawing-room, and thence everywhere else, — was, to say the least, indicative of something, and something that was very easily resolved into somebody, the advent of whom was evidently (to speak tech- nically) hourly expected. The party comprised Mr. and Mrs. Plumley, Lizy, Miss Plumley (still Miss Plumley), Mr. Worzel, and Messrs. Kwack and Albosh — the latter gentlemen being personally and pe- culiarly interested in parliamentary matters just then, since they were hourly expecting, through the influence of their fast friend, Simon Seek, Esq., M.P.P., to be finally and comfort- ably established in the service of their Queen and country ; a distinction towards which their every aspiration, their every hope and wish and perspicaeioua halluoim-.tion (as Mr. Kwaek had It) had bean diraoud firom their oradla up«^ WMrds; tha only drawback with their friend and patron being, that in tht first plaea ht found sunM oonstdarabla dISeulty in salaoting a post la which their peculiar ganins might excel, and in the second plaea that ha had gone Into Parliament denouncing faTorltlsm and party patronage with tha most virtuoua indignation ; whioh, however, to tell tha truth, it scarcely occurred to him at the time would bo a direct obstruction to his using his influ> ence to obtain honest employment for two un- fortunate, but, in the last degree well-meaning^ upright and indefatigable man, whom ha saw almost In a state of destitution, simply because he happened to be acqr 'inted with them ; and as tha absurdity of \>.a objeetion became more and more forced upon his mkid, BO did the double obstacle become less and les* visible, until it resolved itself alto^ (her into the solitary difflculty of finding them a suitable position : so that their expectations were legiti- mate and well founded ; and, certainly, anything like the feverish anxiety, tlio prospective gra'' tude, the eager desire to bo serving their conni .y and maintaining themselves, and the hope a .d fear and doubt that the prospect elicited, baa never yet, that we are aware of, been either seen, heard, or even prognosticated as likely to ob- tain. At precisely seven o'clock in the evenirt];, the whole party sallied-forth and made thehr way direct to the gallery of " the House," and took-up their seats immediately opposite " tha chair"; and at precisely half-past seven o'clock the Speaker entered, ascended the rostrum, called out, in a remarkably sonorous voice^ " oT-dtr," put on his three-o u . d hat, seated himself with becoming grur:. , took-up the last new " Punch," in which he was presently absorbed, — and the business of the country had commenced. It was some tim*^ I efore Simon " took the floor," and in the iuterim the party had an ex- cellent opportunity of observing the general appearance and effect of the congregated wis- dom of the land as it there lay— or, rather sat before them. Mr. Speaker, being tho father, head, and ge- neral focus of the party, was of course the most conspicuous fragment of the land's wisdom to be seen ; and to be sure, as a father he did certainly look one of the jolliest and happiest paterfamaliases that was ever called upon to preside over a roast-beef-and-plumb-pudding 160 LIFE AND ADVENTURES hi I* p ■ 1 ■«;■ -H />*'out into all kinds of impossible corners, as though they had purposely and systematically forgotten the very first object of their existence ; but this very soon passed away, and the fugitive members them- selves were presently subjugated, and gradually brought to perform a very important part to- wards the general efiect, by clinching the ar- guments, as they were disposed-of one after another, upon the desk, and in carving-out and unravelling intricate problems in the air, in which words alone would have been utterly insufScient, and setting-np imaginary patriots on the one side, and knocking-down imaginary corruptionists on the other, until they really seemed to have become the most sensible, dis- criminating, and intellectual hands in the world. He had got into the full zenith of his elo- quence, and honorable members were beginning to whisper and nod and telegraph to one an- other, as who should say, ' he'll do— -that's good — clever fellow — decidedly eloquent — bravo— hear, hear"— when by some chance or other his eyes happened to wander to the gallery, and to the very spot whence the pale countenance of Lizy was turned anxiously and eagerly to- wards him. He withdrew his eyes almost with a start— he became slightly confused, and, in the midst of his confusion, somehow or other his wayward head turned again mechanically to the same spot ; she looked paler and paler still, and her eager eyes that were turned so earnestly towards him, seemed filmed with sadness ; and in that short moment that his eyes were upon her, all the whole train of his unworthy conduct that had led to this cruel change, crowded into his mind — he turned and attempted to proceed —he faltered, he referred to his notes and essayed again, but his theme and his eloquence had left him, and, after stammering-out a few more dis- connected sentences, although the House did their utmost to cheer him on, he resumed his seat, pale, and trembling, and unmanned. It was thought by the House that he was taken suddenly unwell, and several of hisfriends imme- diately collected around him to proflPer their assistance. At the same instant a note was put into his hand by one of the messengers. Ho looked mechanically at the address, and Heavens I how could that have reached him there and at that time— it was Alice's hand- writing, brought by hand, and Alice a hundred miles away. This was a finishing-stroke to his 164 LIFE AND ADVENTURES T-'\ ■ m P' ; ■'4 ■ m\ ]" '.'• '■■J confusion, and, not trusting himself to open it there, be informed his frierds that he was taken so unwell as to be obliged to retire ; and re- questing one of ttatm to apologize for him to the House, he instantly withdrew. I ', iV^ ■ ^"* ■'' . '(■t''.«l'' ■,.0< !, ., 1*, -f'i,.-' . : > ■■■. ■ f vr- ■■■• - -■ CHAPTER XXVII. '■ ';'♦-- •' ■' ■ i--uj. A CLOSING SCENE AN) A REVELATION. Tbb moment Simon was free of the House and alone, which he presently contrived, he drew out the note and tore open the envelope. It ran as follows : — RossiN HonsB, 10 o'clock. Dear Siuon, I have just this moment arrived here with the Mr. McCamerons, on a matter in which we are both deeply interested. Oould you make it convenient to come to as at once? If you delay, it may be too late. In haste. \ Yours n'.ncerely, Alice). Simon stood turning and twisting this ob- scure piece of paper about in his hand for seve- ral seconds, after he had r.3ad it, in a state of complete mystification. He read it over a se- cond time and a third time, and still only the more mystified did he become. " A matter in which we are deeply interested." " If you delay it may be too late." Why, what in the world could it refer to ? There was not one solitary, individual thing that he could think-of that seemed to him to bear the very remotest relation to it. Well, there was but one way evidently to get the mystery solved, and, as it appeared to him to be highly desirable to do so with as little delay as possible, he hurried-up to the Rossin House as fast as his legs and ezitement would carry him. He found both Alice and the McCamerons anxiously awaiting his ariival. They were all still attired in " out-door gear," and Simon at once observed that there was a sadness hang- ing over them for the which he had no cue in any- thing as yet within his knowledge. Their greeting was kind, affectionate as usual, but sad ; and yet he thought he could discern through the cloud that sat silently on the coun- tenance of Alice, a calm, secret, placid satis- faction that seemed to speak peace to his very soul, and to say, in angels' whispers, Simon, we have before u sa moment of sadness, but happiness, much happiness lies beyond. " I fear we have no time to lose," said Mr. McCameron, after the first salutation had passed. " The cab is at the door. Will you accompany us, Mr. Seek ?" " I am at your service," said Simon, who felt so completely subdued by the calm and almost solemn demeanour of his friends, that the heat- ed curiosity in which he had arrived was im- mediately lestrained ; and he contended him- self for the time with merely casting an enquir- ing but silent look at Alice, as he offered her his arm, to which she replied in a subdued tone, " You will understand all very soon, Simon, very soon." They entered the cab in silence, and the cab- man, who appeared already to have his instruc- tions, drove down King Street, thence into Queen Street, and so on until the lamps began to dis- appear, and the broad dark country opened-out before them ; but although Simon asked him- self a thousand questions as he proceeded, and wondered more and more the further they ad- vanced to what the strange adventure was conducting, not a word was spoken by any of the party, until, after running for some distance under a high brick wall, beyond which the top of a long black building was indistinctly visi- ble in the darkness, the cab stopped, and the driver instantly dismounted, and the dong dong of a heavy bell was heard waking-up the dark night into which they had glided. " What," said Simon, whose surprise had got the better of his reserve as he saw where they were, "the Asylum — the Lunatic Asylum I why, what — " " Afew minutes, a very few minuses," inter- posed Alice, laying her hand gently on his arm. The gate was presently opened by a man with a lantern, who, after a few words from Mc- Cameron, requested llsm to follow him; and they immediately alighted and passed into the OF SIMON SEEK. 165 ogize for him rew. ■. .... ■V.^i ^* -f-.- of sadness, but 1 beyond, lose," said Mr. salutation had loot. Will you Simon, who felt calm and almost ds, that the heat- arrived was im- I contended him- iasting an enquir- es he oflTered her n a subdued tone, rery poon, Simon, ince. and the cab- have his instruc- |thence into Queen ips began to dis- luntry opened-out imon asked him- le proceeded, and further they ad- adventure was spoken by any of for some distance ind which the top indistinctly visi- stopped, and the ind the dong dong iking-up the dark ided. surprise had got le saw where they mnatic Asylum 1 minutes," inter- Igently on his arm. l>pened by a man Iw words from Mc- foUow him; and id passed into the open ground before the building, through which (heir guide led the way with the lantern. And now they very soon received sad, me- lancholy evidence of the character of the in- mates of that huge, black, isolated mass. A wild, incoherent chattering as of many persons quar- relling and brawling together, gradually broke upon their ears as they advanced, and then such a terrible hooting, and howling, and wail- ing, that all the woes and miseries of the great world might have found a voice from that large, black blotch ; and then a low murmuring: and chattering again, as though the blighted souls were whispering their agonies to the night wind, and conjuring the pale stars to tell them " how long I" and then a hideous yell and a low, long wail, that seemed to people all the darkness with goblins of despair, and to wake-up the solemn stillness of the night with chilling hor- rors. Alice clung tremblingly to Simon's arm as these agonizing sounds approached her ; and so terrible and unnatural did they seem in the darkness and stillness of midnight, where no other voice nor sound was heard to break the silence or mingle with their terrors, that they all clung involuntarily together as they moved forward — their features became blanched and hueless, and their very souls seemed to shrink within them, for every wail and every groan was a biasing torch that lit-up the midnight by whic i^ney were surrounded, to the blacker midnight of souls that lay beyond. Their guide conducted them straight to the Doctor's apartment on the ground floor of the building, where they found both the medi- cal gentlemen attached to the establishment, who received them with utmost politeness, and, from the manner of their addressing both jllice and the McCamerons, Simon at once perceived that they were already acquaintedwith all three, and to a certain extent prepared for the visit. There was a calm, pleasing, affectionate gentleness about the appearance and manner of both these gentlemen, that at once inspired you with confidence in them as the proper men to fulfil the important, the sacred duties devolving upon the guardians of so great and grave a trust ; and Simon felt a sort of grateful pleasure steal into hid breast, that those poor, hapless wretches whose voices had so distracted it a moment before, had at least one kind and sym- patbetic eye to watch them in their sufferings, one hand of affection to alleviate their many strange and unnumbered miseries. " I fear you are none too soon, my friends," said one of the Doctors, after some preliminary remarks. '■ I have Just left him ; but if you will be seatfid for a few moments, I will just see him again, before I ask you to accompany me." " I presume there are no signs of returning consciousness, Doctor 7 " observed McOameron when they were all seated and the other had left the room. " None, none," replied the Doctor : "we never entertained a hope. "And is he still violent?" asked the elder McCamerou. '* Too weak, too weak," replied the Doctor, shaking his head. " I only wonder that there is still life. The least excitement or exertion would snap in ar Instant the slender thread by which it hangs to the poor worn-out body." " Has he ever been confined at all sinco he has been here 7" asked McCameron. " Confined, only to his bed," replied the Doctor with a smile. " We have no such word as confinement here. That is a trite old system, which, please God, we shall never see again." " But have you none so incorrigible or vi- cious as to require some sort of restraint?" added McCameron. " Our restraint is kindness— we have none other," replied the Doctor. " And viciotune$$, in its usual acceptation, is also a word that our system does not recognize. It belongs, like the other, to an old system which was founded es- sentially on an ignorance rather than a know- ledge of the subject with which it had to deal. It is comparatively but very lately that we have hfld any idea of what a lunatic really is. He is a being as it were without the pale of our own world, existing in a world of his own, by the laws and peculiarities of which he is governed. Hence, before we can prescribe the cure, before we can pronounce upon his actions at all, we must know something of the world and the laws and impulses by which he is controlled ; for what to us is viciousness and malevolence, may be to him a direct obe- dience to one of the most sacred — if I may use the term — ^laws of his being. If you will ullow me I will give you a very simple illustration from a case which transpired but a day or two since. " We had a girl among the female inmates who used to seize every opportunity that pre- sented itself of throwing her clothes' — boots, shoes, stockings, handkerchiefs, or in fact any- ■ thing that oi"crfid— out of the window. No- thing could pre\ ent her ; the more we attempted to check her, tho more she persisted. This of n »>*■«, 166 LIFE AND ADVFNTURES i! Ill Iwil^iiiiii '!m\ m course, in the usual acceptation, would haye been thouglit vi'iiousness and obstinacy, and should have beeu punished accordingly. But according to our rule, it was the simple result of a delusion ; and before we attempted the remedy, it became our duty first to apc'^rtain something about this delusion, or the real cause. And this a few days ago, after a great many failures, with a great deal cf kindness and coaxing I succeeded in learning of her. She believed she was shut-up and retained a prisoner in an enchnnted castle, and these were signals thrown-out to attract the attention of her brother, whom dba expected, on seeing them, would come to her ri.Iief. From this you may readily judge the offect that correction and re- straint would hare h;?.'l upon her mindj but knowing the secrot, the remedy of conrs* was simple." "Why, my dear friends, you .u'i, but just in time^if you will be good enough to iVi- lowme," said the second gentleman^ tutoring at this moment and spoaking in nnv.n^er- tone. •'• ■ The company immediately rose from their sents, and pat themselves under his escort. Tber passed through a large open hall, thence up two wide iiights of 8t&ir», from the landing on the * op of which, through & door which was kept cacbfi^lly locked, they enthe: scene nor circumstances could pos.ubly ha /a exerted in thoir minds ; and they folt it imii;- B relief when their conductor stopped and opened the door of one of the chambci's at the far oad of the corridor and motioned them to fol- lo'.v him, notwithstanding that they knew what the room contained. They could distinguish a low, mumbling sound as of some one muttering iu a hoarse whisper, and, as the Doctor moved before them towards the head of the bed which stood in the room, the light fell upon the object front which it proceeded. " Qood Heavens, is that he t" said McOame- ron in a startled whisper. It was a ghastly visage indeed that they there beheld. It was a mere wrinkled and blackened skeleton. The eyes had sunk into their two dark, ghastly caverns, until they were no longer vLsible; the teeth were all gone, and the mouth was horribly distorted ; the eye- brows were contracted as if with great pain, and the bones seemed everywhere all but visi- ble through the parched and blackened skin. It was a frightful spectacle I And, wretched Blackboum, well might they exclaim, " Is it thou I" Alice trembled very much as her eyes fell upon this heart-rending object, and she clung involuntarily to the elder McOameron for ad- ditional support, while her blanched counte- nance was turned with a look of 'intense grief towards the bewildered Simon. He returned it with mute amazement, and, as his eyes wan- dered from her to the strange muttering gorgon upon the bed, and thence to the heavy counte- nances of the McOamerons, and thence to her again, there was an expression of wonder and OF SIMON SEEK. 167 hel" aaid McOame- confusion in them that no words could possibly have conveyed. They had scarcely taken the first glance at the wretched sufferer, when a change was observed to pass over his features ; the muttering ceased; he seemed to struggle a moment with his ex- ces:'*^'') weakness; and then suddenly throwing- up "vs arms and stretching-out his hand, he cri<- ), I'l a half-stifled scream, ' i\ , • ;\1 — at last — you, you co — come — I — I I — ; J shook his head and fell back again on his pillow, panting and gasping for breath, and almoflt in a moment became perfectly mo- tionless — rio much so that they all thought the exertior had terminated his sufferings, and t' at hiti troubled soul had gone from its strange ( uement forever. The doctor stepped forward and felt his pulse, and, as he did so, shook his head, ob- serving in a whisper, " A few moments, a very few moments, frionds." They all stood with their pale faces and their terrified eyes riveted on the disturbed counte- nance of the dying maniac ; and the chilly sha- dow of death seemed to glide noiselessly about them as they stood; and they were all dumb, and trembling, and hueless, as they almost felt its touch npon their hearts. They had stood so for a considerable time, without uttering a word or moving a limb, when the lips of the dying man began again to move, but without any sound escaping them, the features began to change and writhe slightly; his hands graduar.y became clinched; and his eye-brows worked up and down, as though he was strnggling to penetrate the darkness in which his eyes were for ever clothed. He remained so for several minutes, without emitting a sound or moving a limb; when, like a flash of lightning, he sud- denly sprung-up in the bed to a sitting posture, and, throwing out both his hands and stretch- ing forward his head, exclaimed in a screaming whisper, that hissed through ^,he chamber with a most unearthly effect, " Now — now — Al — Alice, forgive — forgi — see, see your mo— your mother, Alice — see she's now, now — ^he water, — and hark," he screech- ed, clapping his hands with a death-like grasp upon his ears, " the last — the last bell I and — " a choking and gurgling in his throat stopped his utterance; his features suddenly became rigid ; and his neck grew instantly distend- ed. The doctor stepped forward and caught him in his arms as he fell backwards; he laid him gently on the pillow; and, after bend- ing over him for a moment, he turned and said, " Friends, his sufferings are at an end — he is no more," "Simon — Simon," exclaimed Alice, falling upon her knees by the bedside, " Oub Fatbeb." A strange sensation thrilled through Simon's frame as these words fell upon his ear, and he staggered back a rioment with incredulous amazement. But there was a solemn sacredness in the time, in the words, and in the sad spec- tacle he had just witnessed, that constrained him to believe that, however strange, it must be true ; and giving vent to the powerful reaction of his mind, he fell down on his knees by her side ; and they both wept long and bitterly to- gether, and prayed for the troubled soul of their strange parent, that was already wandering through the labyrinths of an unknown world. As they rose from their knees, Alio* placed a small packet of papers in his hand, and, lay- ing her head upon his shoulder, as the tears flowed again from a fresh source, she said, " It is true — all true, Simon." He folded her tenderly in his arms, and a holy and grateful calm seemed to steal upon them both ; and imprinting a kiss upon her pale cheek, he said, "Alice, my sister — my dear,dear sister, God bless thee and our unhappy father. He was indeed good to me to have left me so dear a treasure. Qod spare him and blesn him for thee, my sister.", 'IvK ■( .4 •v( -i i w 168 LIFE AND ADVENTURES CHAPTER XXVIII. * THE FUGITIVE'S RETURN. ■\y--r If: .1. ft * # ill; m Thi papers which Alice handed to Simon were the same that Bolton committed to the charge of William on the ere of his melancholy end in the forest, and which, from some reason or other, William had not delivered to her until the day before thej came into, Simon's possession, as we hare seen. They contained a clear and satisfactory account of his birth and parentage, and also that of Alice, and left not a doubt upon his mind that she was his Bister. His desertion, when he was an infant, on London Bridge, was accurately narrated and accounted-for by the cruel abandonment of his mother by her husbend, Blackbourn, whom she had married in opposition to the will of her parents, and which plunged her into the dis- tress and misery by which she was led to the commission of the crime with which these Ad- ventures opened. These statements were said to hare been derived from the confession of Black- bourn himself, and to have been written by the unhappy lady's brother, although his name was not mentioned or subscribed to any of the pa- pers in Simon's possession. Alice, however, subsequently assured him that that was also known, and that he should be made acquainted with it by-and-bye. It will be readily supposed that Simon was something more than anxious for the opportunity to communicate the extraordinary but welcome intelligence to his wronged Lizy and her friends, and to endeavour to make atonement for his past sins ; and oh I notwithstanding all its sad accompaniments and the melancholy relations it involved, how supremely and calmly happy he was — what a holy and grateful influence this happy termination to his strange perplexity imparted to his mind 1 But as his friinds had left Toronto the same night, and before he had an opportunity of seeing them, as haci been previously arranged, he felt that it wo ild be both expedient and proper for him to remain until after the last sad duty to his unhappy pa- rent had been performed, before following them with the intelligence, which, from its happy results and in the absence of any personal k nowledge of the deceased, could only inspire them with feelings of gratitude and pleasure. The interment took place on the seeond day, and the McOamerons were both pre- sent at the ceremony. And so the body of the intoxicated soul was followed to its last resting-place by the feet of those who had been the worst victims of its dark delusion ; and aa they stood upon the sod that was waiting to hide him forever from their sight, they forgave him in their hearts, and they exclaimed in on* voice, " His sins have been many, but his pun- ishment has been great: may he rest in peace." It was the third day, then, when Simon, ac- companied by his newly-found sister, set-off to bear the intelligence to his friends. It was arranged that the McCamerons, with Mrs. McCameron and Matilda and Clara, who were expected to join them, should follow on the succeeding day, and Philip and Mrs. Sorftish were also invited, and promised to be tb^re ; so that what might be termed a complete Plumley and McCameron party might be formed, for the purpose of running-over the reminiscences o' the past together^-seeing that a happy termina- tion to a long series of adventures appeared at last to be arrived at. On arriving at " his own " town, he drove-up in front of the newspaper-office, in which Mr. Dale was still engaged, and, placing the reins in Alice's hands and promising not to keep her a moment, leapt out of the buggy and rushed up stairs to the editor's office. Mr. Dale hap- pened to be alone. "Well, Dale, my dear fel''>w," said Simon, in a manner that caused Dale to see that another change had taken place since he last saw him, '* I can't stop a moment. I have just run-up to tell you, as I passed, of a most extraordinary occurrence that has tran- spired within the last few days. There is no mistake this time. Alice is yours, my boy. I give her to you freely, joyfully ; that is, always provided, — you understand ? Talk about won- ders : it is miraculous I Would you believe it, sir — could you have credited such a thing for a moment, that I have discovered beyond the possibility of a shadow of a doubt that Alice ii my sister ?" ) on the aeeond were both pre- i 80 the body of lowed to it! last ose who had been delusion ; and at A was waiting to ght, they forgave exclaimed in one lany, but his pun- may he rbst in , when Simon, ac- id Bister, set-ofiF to i friends. It was erons, with Mrs. i Clara, who were uld follow on the I and Mrs. Sorftish sed to be tbc.:e ; so complete Plumley t be formed, for the e reminiscences o' i,l a happy tcrmina- nturea appeared at ' town, he drove-up jflBce, in which ilr. i, placing the reins ling not to keep her buggy and rushed ice. Mr. Dale hap- bI^ow," said Simon, Dale to see that place since he last b moment. I have as I passed, of a ence that has tran- days. There is no 8 yours, my boy. I illy ; that is, always [? Talk about won- rould you believe it, ted such a thing for icovered beyond the % doubt that Alice it OF SIMON SEEK. 160 « Impossible," cried Mr. Dale, " your— why, how in the world — " "■Well, seriously aad truly. Dale," continued Simon, " it is an indisputable fnct. But you must excuse me, now ; I have left her down stairs in the buggy : but come up to the house this evening — and at the same time you must make arrangements for being disengaged to- morrow, and you shall have the whole history. Will you run-down and see her? — yes, of course you must ; but take no notice of what I have told you until this evening ; you understand?" Mr. Dale of course understood, because he certainly made no mention, director impli' ., to anything having any relation thereto ; but there was that in his countenance and in his clear, expressive eye as he took her hand, that spoke something far in advance of anything of the sort ; and there is every reason to believe that he returned to his office entirely satisfied with the response that that voluminous expres- sion met-with at the hands, or rather from the eyes, of the fair object of the same. When about half-way between the town and the country estate, they observed a wrevvhed, ragged creature standing by the roadside, a little distance ahead of them, who, as they came up with him, they thought made a movement towards the vehicle, as though to accost them ; but checking himself and stepping on one side, he stood looking at them vacantly until they had passed. Simon, taking him for a beggar, thrust his hand into his pocket and threw him a handful of coppers ; but on looking back he was surprised to see that he had taken no no- tice whatever of the money, but was still stand- ing motionless on the road looking after them. "Why, what does the poor fellow want, I wonder," said Simon, reining-up. " Shall I — oh, he is moving off, I see. I suppose his poverty has affected his head as well as his body, poor fellow. Ah, this poverty is a fearful thing, Alice I We all manage to have our afflictions of one sort and another ; but depend upon it, put them altogether, we have none of us known afiBiction until we have known poverty. Let me see, T must have been very silent since we left Dale b, surely." " Dear me, have you ? I am sure I did not notice it, although you will certainly say it is a very bad compliment to say so," said Alice, who nevertheless had certainly not ob- served it, for she had been too fully occupied herself, and had really said so much and heard ■so much, by whatever means it had reached her, that the only thing she observed was that the Journey was diminishing with unaccount- able rapidity. " Yes," continued Simon, " I was Just running over the singular circumstances through which we became acquainted with Dale. Very strange how things do come about t Well, he is most unquestionably a very fine fellow. I don't know any one of my acquaintance that combines so many good qualities with so much real abi- lity. I find he belongs to an excellent (hmily in the old country, too ; and I am satisfied he will be somebody in this country yet." Simon said this with the two-fold object of loafing Alice to conceive that he knew some- thing of the nature of her sentiments on the subject, while at the same time to convey his own. On arriving home, they were received by Mrs. Plumley, who certainly did look a little surprised at the unexpected visit from Alice, and especially since she was so accompanied. " Mother," said Simon, taking both her hands in his, and looking earnestly into her face, " we have come to bring you some extraordinary, but at the same time very welcome, intelligence ; and / to ask your pardon for all the pain and uneasiutjss that I know I have caused you for some time past. It is all over now. Where is Lizy ? Alice will tell you all about it for me — do, there's a dear ; but Lizy must be the first to receive it from me — that is, if she will. I ought to be doubtful, certainly ; but where ii she 7" " Why, she'is all alone up stairs in the draw- ing-room, Simon, my child," returned Mrs. Plumley, looking from one to the other in as- tonishment. "But, dear me, how strange I Whatever does it mean ?" " As strange as it seems, I can assure you," said Simon ; " but Alice will explain it to you. I must leave that task with you, my dear, for I must confess that I am a little bewildered with my own part." He found Lizy seated on the sofa with her work in her hand ; but he thought, from the way in which she held it, that she had not been working. She was looking pale and sad, a:r.d she started as he entered, and seemed almost bewildered ; and as he advanced towards her with both his hands extended, she rose hesita- tingly, and, when she did place her hands in his, she did it with such an expression of timi- dity, that it almost bordered on alarm, and he felt so stung and conscience-stricken oy the wonderful alteration in her appearance an manner, which had never before so impressed 170 LIFE AND ADVENTURES blm u At that moment, that it wu lome time before he could sufficiently suppreti his emo- tion to utter ft word. " Lisy," he said at length, as the tenrs start- ed to his ejes, "I have beun very cruel, wick- edly cruel. Can you forgive me 7" She looked at him more bewildered than ever, and, after struggling to speak for several moments in vain, she fell upon the sofa, and, burying her face in her hands, began to cry bitterly. *' Can you, can you forgive me, Lizy," said Simon, Beating himself beside her, after a long panst. " I have never, never accused you, Simon," ■he sobbed in reply. " I have nothing to for- give you." Whereupon Simon gently took her hand in his and said tenderly — well, the fact is, my dear reader, you know very well what he said ; the whole affair went on from beginning to end in precisely the usual form ; a lover's reconcilia- tion—and we all know exactly what that is ; at least, if we don't, we ought to, because of course we ha me 7 I am really I have no recoUec- lame?" other, " I am quite hamed to repeat it ch you are so little • recollection. But the papers, I have thinking that you sion of information which I have sought ing assured that I lerosity. My name, rftish, the husband your pardon," cried is seat and grasping OF SIMON SEEK. 171 him by the hand. " I am really delighted to ■ee you, and so will they all be. Really, there was no necessity for any such preface ; they will all bo delighted to sec you." Mr. Sorftish shook his head as if in doubt, ttnd, after looking at Simon a considerable time in silence, said, " You are very kind, sir, very kind. You say all. May I ask you is Philip — is the still in the country ?" " In the country 1" said Simon. " Most cer- tainly they are ; and wonderfully successful Philip has been. I saw them only yesterday. They are both quite well." " Thank you, thank you," said Mr. Sorftish, turning away his head to conceal his emotion. " That is all I want to know. I can scarcely hope to see them again." '• Not see them I" returned Simon, " why there is nothing in the world will give them both greater pleasure than to see you again and know you are well. I'll answer for them. Look I here's Mr. Plumley coming in — ^you re- member Mr. Plumley 7 You wont mind seeing him, I'm sure." " I shall be very glad," said Mr. Sorftish, casting his eyes nervously over his dress. " I am sorry I have been obliged to come as I am," he added, " but the fac is — and I may as well tell you the trutli — I have had to walk and beg my way from the Southern States." " Is it possible I — I'm very sorry," returned Simon. " But, pray don't think of any such things as apologies here, whatever you do. But here he is. Father," he said, putting his head out of the door, " will you just step in here a moment. You will be surprised when I tell you — ^I dare say you have entirely forgot- ten " "Forgotten I" cried Mr. Plumley, falling back with a shock almost as soon as his eyes fell upon the stranger's face. " No I Why, by George, if it aint — Heavens I why — Lizy, Lizy girl," cried Mr. Plumley, rushing-out into the passage before Simon could possibly stop him, " here, here, here — he is come back I Why, Mr. Sorftish," he continued, rushing-in again and grasping him by the hand, "well, this is a pleasure, this is I By George, who could have believed this I Why, look here, Lizy girl," he said, as ''^. Plumley presented herself in a great flu,, > , " whoever do you think this is?— ^ Why, Mr. tiorttish come back, that's who it is." " Oh, mercy," cried Mrs. Plumley, " never ! Ob, how delighted poor Mrs. Sorftish will be!" "There, Liisy, that's just what I always said," cried Mr. Plumley, giving the air a tri- umphant slap wiih the back of his hand, as though Mr. Sorftish's departure had only oc- curred that morning, and he had returned in time for tea. " I always said that Mr. Sorftish would come back I and here he is. Lor, this is something, this is." « But I'm afraid, Mr. Sorftish, you are not well — you are looking fatigued," said Mrs. Plumley, looking with some little hesitation from the wanderer to her husband, and thence to Simon, and thence back again. " Wont you come into the next room where there is a fire, and " " Not now, I think, thank you. You are very kind," said Mr. Sorftish, making motions of preparation for leaving, "very kind. But, not now, I think. I have gained the object for which I came — I was very anxious to know if they were in the country and well ; and I thank you deeply for the kindness with which you have accompanied the information. But I think I should not stop this evening — not this evening, I thank you." " What, by George, why, why— go /" cried Mr. Plumley, in utter confusion. " Go ! Why, Lizy — why, Simon, this aint the thing, you know." " No, no, no," said Simon, " we cannot listen to that, I assure you, Mr. Sorftish. You must really make-up your mind to consider this your resting-place for this night at all e^tnts." It was with some difficulty that Ihey prevail- ed upon him to remain: but the arguments they advanced were entirely unanswerable, and the comforts their hospitality suggested were so acceptable to his fatigued and worn-out body, that they ultimately prevailed, and bore him off in triumph as their guest for ^hat night at least. 173 LIFE AND ADVENTUUIiS CHAPTER XXIX. THE BEQINNINQ OP THE END. i t If- k if':. m . Towards the eroaing of the following day, the whole party arrired from Toronto — Meiara. Kwack, Albosh, and Worzel having been duly hunt«d-up for the oceaaion from their aereral retreats— and, after a comfortable, cheerful, homely, thorough-going, farm-houae tea, as a ■ort of gastronomic preface, they all gathered round the huge log-flro in a large circle, all seated iu their proper poaitions according to their sereral relationsblpa — and a very interest- ing group of relations some of them formed. There were Simon and Lizy, they were toge- ther—of course they were together, and oh I what a change— no one would have believed it >— no one could have believed it unless they had seen it, or had experienced precisely the tame thing themselves and knew all about it, which of course a great many have fttid do; then there were Philip and Glara, they were together; and then Mr. Dale and Alice— yes, they were together— and supremely happy and beautiful and gentle did Alice look ; and there were Mr. Worzel and, yes — Miss Plum- ley, the victim of days gone hj—they were to- gether, and what serenity and confiding sweetness on the one hand, and what Jolly, red- faced contentment on the other hand, were there at the same time as a necessary con- comitant I Then there were McCameron and Mrs. Mc- Oameron, and Matilda, who was once more happy in the affections of her much-loved home,al though there was still a shade of thought and pensiveness on her countenooce tuwt per- haps would never leave it. Then there was the elder McCameron ; and below him again were Messrs. Ewack and Albosh; and further on again, to make the whole thing complete and nnquestionable, William and Timothy — Timo- thy the taost indispensable of all : while the whole circle was appropriately crowned at the top and made complete with the host and bos- teas'— the ruling spirits of the whole assembly, the good genii of these Adventures and of all the adventurers that have appeared upon this Stage from the first page to the last. But these were not all. There were yet two more of the party. On Mr. Plumley's left there sat an individual who appeared to be very much careworn and emaciated in countenance, and, although he was well and neatly attired, it was easy to perceive that he had recently Buf- fered aomo heavy privations, and that he was atill very much deproaaod and enervated. By hia side sat Mrs. Sorftish, who it was alao eaay to perceive had but very lately been aubjected to a total undoing of all the undoable portion of her nervous condition. There had been a great scene. There bad been great crying and bewailing, and con- fessing, and promising, and self-condemnation, and repentance ; but it was all over now — a reconciliation had been effected, and they were both the happier for it : and it is to be hoped that the unfortunate wanderer had returned a wiser and better man, after so many years of absence and distreas and reflection. Altogether, it was such a party aa would unquestionably have done the heart of any one living a considerable amount of good even to have looked upon. And there was abundant grounds for the supposition, that not only the heart, but the soul, body, and appurtenances generally of Mr. Plumley, derived an amount of good from the contemplation thereof that never could, by any reasonable possibility, have proceeded from any other known source : not- withstanding that at ti' les he appeared to be seized with a certain slight aberration of ideas, and fell more than once into a series of singular irregularities, not among the least remarkable of which was the somewhat original and amus- ing process by. which he sought to convert a variety of ingredients placed upon a side- table for the purpose, into the old familiar punch. There were several comfortable-looking bottles, with unmistakable labels, one would have thought, hung round their necks — there were jugs of boiling water, pyramids of sugar, and regiments of lemons ; and all they evi- dently required was a little presence of mind to put them into proper contact, which Mr. Plumley proceeded to do by throwing the whole lemons into the hot water and trying to squeeze them in a body into the necks OF SIMON 8EEE. 178 od to be very n countenance, leatlj attired, it id recently suf- ad that lie was snerrated. By it was also easy been subjected oable portion of ine. There had lling, and con- '-condemnation, 11 over now — a 1, and they were is to be hoped had returned a I many years of tion. )arty as would leart of any one of good even to ) was abundant lat not only the I appurtenances ived an amount ion thereof that possibility, have va source : not- 9 appeared to be rration of ideas, leries of singular east remarkable ginal and amus- ght to convert sd upon a side- le old familiar fortable-looking sels, one would eir necks — there ramids of sugar, id all they evi- le presence of contact, which 10 by throwing hot water and dy into the necks of thv bottles, and then pouring the water on to the sugar, and then the sugar altogether into the water, and then the contents of the bottles into one another, and on the table, and about the floor, and then shaking them all up together, and then placing an empty Jug, with a cloth carefully laid upon the top, to brew upon the hob ; all of which being brought to a success- ful toimination, he seated himself again, with an air of supreme satisfaction, in the midst of the circle, around which his eyes had been wandering Incessantly during the whole pro- cess — for it had evidently become to him, to all Intents and purposes, a charmed circle, beyond which, for the time being, there was no escape. « Well," said Mr. Plumley, looking round in a sort of mysterious rapture after he had placed the empty Jug upon the hob and seated himself with that supreme satisfaction just mentioned, « this is a time, this is. By George," he added, looking abstractedly at the several young cou- ples that formed one side of the circle, and that certainly might have made a very much more metallic heart than his lose Its balance, so to speak, for the time, and fly-off into a va- riety of unwonted aberrations, as his evidently did,—" by George, if this isn't a sight to see, why, why, by George, what « a sight, that's the question ? Lor, Mr. McCameron, if this aint miraculous, what is? Who could ever have hoped to see this I There, sir, if I aint reg'- larly b'wildered with this here sight, why I was never b'wildered with nothing, that's what I wasn't. Just to look upon it. By George I" " Well, I must confess, you seem a little bit bewildered, George dear," said Mrs. Plumley, looking round upon the punch confusion. " Eh, eh ?" said Mr. Plumley, following her eyes, and appearing to wake-up a little as he examined the nature of the "brew" upon the hob, " why,why, by George, what's this 1 Why, Lizy girl — there, there, I told you I was b'wil- dered— I told you so. Why, I've been and made a reg'Iar mess here— a reg'lar mess.— Well, it's no use, I can't do it— I'm b'wildered —I kne w I was. You must do it, girl — ^you must indeed. Lor, what a mess I've made, to be sure I Well, the fact is, my nerves arn't equal to it. They always was weak, and here's a proof of it. You must do it, Lizy girl. By George t" After this diflSculty was overcome, which it ultimately was by the joint exertions of Mrs. Plumley and Simon, and everything was pro- perly established for the evening, Mr. Plumley again remarked, "Well, Mends, as I understand It, it aint our intention to make this, this time, a party of regular merriment and fiin likt, although I shall look forward to that be- fore long; there's the weddings, they're com- ing, I can siMt that plain enough, and that'll be the time, and a pretty time that will be, I can see that; but what we are met- for this evening is to go over a little rem- niscence of by-gone days, so to speak, and I dare say we shall all have at least something to say on such an occasion, when we think how we have all buen linked together in iuoh a singular manner for so many yean, and how strange everything has come about, — I daro say we shall all find something to say. And such being the case, Mr. McOameron is going to lead the way for us, and I am sure we shall all listen to what he has got to tell us with the deepest interest; that I am sure of." It was the elder McCameron that he re- ferred to ; and as this appeared to have been pre-arranged, the old gentleman at once com- menced, in the midst of the most profound si- lence, the following narrative : " It is now forty years ago since I left Scot- land with a wife and two children— a boy and a girl — for Gerirany. From some cause or other, after my,' settling on the Oontinent, the correspondence with my friends at home began gradually to decrease fVom year to year, until it ultimately ceased altogether : and I lost all knowledge of them, for the most part, it ap- pears, forever in this world. Whether the fault rested with me or with my friends, I have never been thoroughly able to decide ; but I suppose, being weaned away by new associations formed in a new country, I had my full share in the negligence which led to it. For nearly twenty years we lived in the utmost happiness and contentment, entirely engrossed in the little world of our own family, and a few choice friends whom we had gathered about us ; when a circumstance occurred, which, while it en- tirely destroyed our happiness for the time, had the ultimate effect of breaking-up our home altogether, and separating us all in this world forever. There was admitted into cor family-circle a young man of the name of Blackboum, who was well introduced, and who, from his apparent goodness and nobleness of disposition, became very soon an object of re- spect and esteem with the whole family ; and I believe we all had the greatest confidence in his honor and integrity. But unhappily we had very soon to learn that our confidence was 1Y4 LIFE AND ADVENTURES I »■■- It'!,* v-^J £■ l! I 45''. amentablj misplaced. He was known to us but a few weeks ; but in those few weeks he succeeded in so insinuating himself into the favour of our dear misguided girl, and of so cruelly poisoning her mind, that he first induqed her to contract a clandestine marriage with him at a distant village church, and subse- quently to leave her home altogether and return with him to England, without our knowledge or consent, or indeed without leaving to us a parting word of any kind. Poor girl, poor dear girl," said the old man, removing the tears from his eyes, " she never had another oppor- tunity ; we heard from her no more. Whether she was carried from her home by force, or what the circumstances wore, we could never tell. It must have been a strange influence that could so have changed her. From her cradle, she was the most good, and loving, and dutiful of children. Her brother was dotingly fond of her, for she was the dearest and best of sisters ; and although everybody said she was very handsome, and I scarcely knew how handsome she was myself until now," he said, looking towards Alice, " she never evinced anything like vanity in her beauty ; indeed she appeared to be the only one indifferent to it. Poor dear, dear child, we could never explain it ; it is a very strange mystery. How greatly she must have been deceived I cannot tell, and have never had and never can have the means to know. Her poor heart-broken mother survived the shock but a few weeks. But little more than a month afterwards, she died while I was in England in search of our misguided child. Our poor boy, who had always entertained the deepest lo'e for his sister, was driven nearly distracted by this two-fold calamity; and I was afterwards told by friends, for I saw him no more, that he swore upon his mother's grave to avenge her death, and to make the culprit expiate his two-fold crime with his life. He left for England, and I lost sight of him, never to see him any more. Soon after I received in- formation that they had all left England for America, and I set-out in search of them to this country. But I have since found that thv information was incorrect. My poor dear girl found her grave in England, very unhappily and very young : she survived her mother but two years, but two short years, and '^ery un- happy I fear they were— very, very unhappy," he said, shaking his head sorrowfully to and fro, while the tears rolled copiously down his cheeks. " Her brother," he added, after a long pause, '• it seems followed the culprit about the world for nearly fifteen years, waiting for the opportunity of carrying his resolution into effect, while at the same time he was enabled to watch over the safety of one of the two chil- dren whom she had left to the world. He fol- lowed him to the forests of Canada, and, after several years spent in the same manner, it seems he ultimately lost his life in endeavouring to carry his long-nursed resolution into effect ; and the culprit escaped, but only to become the inmate of a mad-house, where," he added, looking to his brother and thence to Alice and Simon, " we have seen his end. Gordon," he said, grasping his brother by the hand, "I have kept this from you hitherto, for reasons which you will understand. We have both suffered from the same unhappy cause; we have suffered heavily ; but we have forgiven him — ^may he be forgi". en. We were both but robbed of our dear ones for a time. Yours is again by your side ; and mine, I thank Heaven, are restored to me as they were when I last saw them so many years ago: there is no change," said the tearful old man, putting-out his hands towards Alice and Simon, who cross- ed-over and seated themselves by his side, " my dear children," he continued, pressing them both in his trembling arms, " there is no change — the same, the very sam3, after twenty long years. Thank God I have found you, my children, and you are the same that I had lost." There was a long pause after this, and each one looked at the other through their tears in silence, until the old man, looking-up and ad- dressing his brother again, resumed ; " I have the chief of this history, Gordon, from William here, who was with Blackbourn from the first, and from documents written by my son himself and intrusted to William's care the night, it is supposed, before his death. You knew him, Gordon : he went by the name of Bolton." " Is it possible 1" said McOameron ; " poor fellow, poor fellow." " If I might be allowed,'' said William, see- ing that the old man appeared to have finished, " I would just say one word in explanation of anything that might seem strange on my part. The reason I remained with Mr. Blackbourn so long was that — I shall always remember it— the day before poor Mrs. Blackbourn — your mamma. Miss," he said, turning to Alice, " was — was taken from this world, she said to me, ' William,' she said, ' my dear little girl ' — you was very little then, Miss — ' has no friends in the world ; wili you promise me, William,' she I, waiting for the resolution into he was enabled 8 of the two chil- I world. He fol- anada, and, after manner, it seems endeavouring to tion into eflfect ; only to become rhere," he added, mce to Alice and id. Gordon," he ly the hand, "I erto, for reasons We have both appy cause; we 'e have forgiven Ve were both but I time. Yours is , I thank Heaven, were when I last igo: there is no man, putting-out iimon, who cross- res by his side, itinued, pressing ms, " there is no am 3, after twenty re found you, my e that I had lost." ;er this, and each iigh their tears in oking-up and ad- jsumed : " I have on, from William bourn from the ritten by my son illiam's care the his death. You 1 by the name of Cameron ; " poor lid William, see- d to have finished, in explanation of •ange on my part. Ir. Blackbourn so ys remember it^ lackbouwi — your ig to Alice, " was [, she said to me, r little girl ' — you has no friends in me, William,' she OF SIMON SEEK. '% : m said, ' to take care of her as far as you're able, and see that no harm comes to her 7 ' 'I will, mum, I wUl, mum,' said I, ' and I'll never see no harm come near her as long as I live, if so be that I can help it.' And having made that promise, and on such a solemn occasion too, I felt it was my duty to try to keep it. Not that Miss Alice have ever wanted any protection from me, but still it was my duty to be by in case, and that's the reason ; and I am proud at least that I have lived to see you. Miss, out of everything like danger, and surrounded by all youi- best friends, as I see at the present time. Ahu I am sure if I had been able to do ten thousand times more than what little I have, I'm sure this here night would more than pay me a thousand-fold." Alice pressed his hand, that had done so much for her for so many years, and looked her gratitude to him through her tears': but her heart was too full to admit of words. The old man laid his hand upon his shoulder, and thanked him also with looks that no words could possibly have rendered more acceptable. " There is one more thing, Sir, that perhaps I ought to explain," continued William, ad- dressing Gordon McCameron. "Perhaps both Mr. Bolton and me, Sir, might have done some- thing to prevent what took place with Mrs. — with — in your family, Sir. It was perhaps very wrong that we did'nt, Sir — very wrong ; we both felt it, Sir. But Mr. Bolton, although perhaps he didn't show it much, had a great love for Miss Alice, and he thought she was very lonely without any one to talk to hex or to be with her, and I bad some such thought too; and we thought. Sir, that — that ypur daughter might be company for Miss Alice, and we perhaps never thought that it would turn out altogether as it did, and so we didn't interfere. It was very wrong, I know ; but I hope, as things have turned out after, and there seems such a Providence in it altogether, that you will forgive what we did wrong in that. Sir." " My dear mon," said McCameron, " there is nothing to forgive. It is all a strange dispen- sation ; and it has worked many great and good ends, and perhaps we may all be the hap- pioi for it yet. The way in which all our troubles have worl\ed together for good, must strike ) ju all, my friends, as very sti'anf,'e— very strange." "It's truly wonderful," said Mr. Plumley, " that's what it is. And when we think what it's all come to, and above all what it all seems likely to come to," he added, with his eye still upon the young folks and his mind upon the results which present appearances augured ; " if it aint, why it's literly mirac'lous, that's whatitis— mirac'lous. To think that Timothy too should have been such an instrument to it at first," (Timothy turned away his head and looked steadfastly at the fire), " to think that he should," continued Mr, Plumley, " it's asto- nishing. To think that when he brought that little bit of a baby home on that cold night here, twenty odd years ago, that all this should come out of it. It's more than wonderful^ that's what it is, and that's all we can say." Seeing that there was a general silence after this, and that Mr, Plumley looked towards him, Mr. Kwack quietly buttoned-up his coat and rose. "Friends," said Mr. Kwack, "it has been truly said that the vicissitudes and the fortui- tous concatenation of circumstances that have led to the present homogeneous elucidation, are mysterious and inscrutable. And truly, from what we have heard this evening, and from what we have all witnessed for ourselves, we may say that such is categorically the case. But although I can lay no clain to having play- ed a very worthy part in the romantic drama, I trust you will allow me to congratulate you all on the happy consummation which has now been arrived at, to be followed, as we have every reason to hope, by an indefinite period of love, happiness, and prosperity. For my own part, I feel proud to be allowed to participate in the rejoicings on this occasion, and deeply grateful at the same time, that, from other for- tuitous circumstances, I am made, with my friend Mr. Albosh, a participant in the hope of a prosperous and Lappy future. And I feel it my duty before I sit down to return my most sincere and grateful acknowledgments to my esteemed friend and patron, Mr. Seek, for hav- ing, as he has this day informed us, dispelled the darkness of our future prospects by pro- curing for both my friend and myself an ap- pointment under her Majesty — in her Majesty's Customs — whereby we may not only defy ne- cessity in the present, but, by energy, perse- verance, and integrity, may ultimately, accord- ing to our individual merit, advance in the social labyrinth. It is my intention from this moment, as I believe it is that of my friend, to forego altogether the peculiar line of study and investigation in which I have hitherto been engaged, and to apply myself wholly and solely to the study of those peculiar branches i:,ii^ i\\\ 1 1 w LIFE AND ADVENTURES ■^ ; ,ii m of knowledge which my occupation may in- volve, and that may qualify me for advancement according to the rules and regulations therein prescribed. By this meens, we hope to make ourselves competent and useful as her Majesty's servants, while at the same time we may render ourselves in some degree worthy of the favor and distinction that has thus been conferred upon us. I would just make this remark in conclusion, that I am now, after mature con- sideration, convinced that my studies and ac- quirements have not been directed hitherto in a proper course. I have been from my youth a great admirer of Johnson, and have spent much time in making myself acquainted with him ; but I feel now convinced that that time has been to a great extent wasted; that I have therein been pursuing the shadow and neglect- ing the substance — feeding and decorating the ideal, while I ought to have been satisfying and clothing the physical — in short, dreaming while I ought to have been working, — and I am sorry for it. Another chimera which I have been vainly pursuing, has been the amelioration of the masses ; but I see plainly enough now, that before we can do anything towards ameli- orating the masses, we must first ameliorate ourselves. And I am not surprised that the masses should have laughed at an individual talking about ameliorating them, when it was very plain that he didn't know how to amelio- rate himself. I see plainly enough that a peo- ple's champion in rags is about the same thing as a dead crow in a corn-5eld — a monument of its own fo'ly and a warning to the rest. With all this, friends, I have done forever ; and I trust I shall not make the worse servant for having found the folly of trying to be everybody's master before I was my own. Friends, I again congratulate you on the happy consummation of events of which we are here this evening to recount the reminiscences." Mr. Kwack's remarks met with the general approbation, and, by the time he had concluded, a great deal of the sadness which had been caused by the former narrations had passed oflf, and the company began again to assume an aspect of cheerfulness. Mr. Kwack be- ing seated, his friend Mr. Albosh took his place. "While humbly adding my congratulations to those of my friend who has just sat down," said Mr. Albosh, " I L.,ve just one remark that I would wish to make. My friend has told you that he has found it expedient to change ond dis- card many of his former views and former pur- suits ; and he has also intimated that I have thought it advisible to do the same. Without going into detail, I may assure you that such is the case. As you all know, my mind has been engrossed all my lifetime in scientific disco- very and research. Well, I have to inform you that I have just made the great discovery of my life ; it is this : that the pursuit of science in any shape as a means of profit or future greatness to a poor man, is precisely what the Jack O'Lantern is to the traveller. It looks all very fair and bright and alluring at the outset, but the very road over which it con- ducts us is through a bog, and the farther we go the more we get bewildered and entangled, until we find ourselves deserted in darkness and the very heart of a quagmire : in short, it is the direct road to everything that is ruinons and vexatious. Such being my altered views, friends, I leave you to forn your own opinions on the probabilities of my future conduct. I shall merely add my humble acknowledgements and thanks to those of my friend, for the very generous and disinterested kindnesss of our friend Mr. Seek, as has been explained to you ; and congratulating you all on the happy con- summation of events, I resu aie my seat, assuring you that the overflow of my feelings at this moment could scarcely be characterised as anything approaching a bagatelle." After this Mr. Worzel ri'^se and ofiered a few remarks on the various incidents in the domes- tic drama in which he had been honored with a part ; and he spoke in many instances with truly touching effect — in fact, so much so that a silent tear was seen to steal serenely forth from the fountain-orb of the fair spinster by his side, especially when he delicately alluded to the ap- proaching nuptials between himself and that lady. After which Mr. Josiah Sorftish made a penitent speech, in which he heartily deplored the past, and concluded by saying that for the last nine years he had been disciplined in a se- vere school — he had been admonished for nine long years of his unnatural and unworthy con- duct by the most terrible adversities, and he trusted that the future would prove that the discipline and admonition had not been in vain. After which Philip had his say, and Simon had his say, and Timothy made a great speech, and Mr. Plumley summed it all up in the great- est speech of all ; and then all had a say to- gether, and the girls took their tu^n en masse, and of course very soon had the oest of it : which we trust will be received as a just and suflicient excuse for our immediately quitting ted that I hare same. Without jrou that such ia r mind has been scientific disco- e to inform you at discovery of irsuit of science )rofit or future lisely what the eller. It looks illuring at the r which it con- the farther we and entangled, in darkness and a short, it is the is ruinous and altered views, r own opinions ire conduct. I nowledgements id, for the very tdnesss of our )lained to you ; he happy con- Y seat, assuring eelings at this mracterised as le." id offered a few 3 in the domes- I honored with instances with much so that a lely forth from ter by his side, uded to the ap- aself and that orftish made a irtily deplored ig that for the plined in a SC' lished for nine jnworthy con- sities, and he )rove that the tbeeii in vain, y, and Simou great speech, p in the great- had a say to- ;urn en masse, le oest of it; as a just and itely quitting OF SIMON SEEK. m the field, inasmuch as it could scarcely be expected that we could follow successfully through the interminable labyrinth of hopes and fears and delights and conjectures and tender impossibilities that immediately ob- tained. !l CHAPTER XXX. THE END. RbaderI there is little more to be told. And although that has doubtless already become to you a self-evident fact and might appear a somewhat unnecessary announcement, if you will be good enough to turn to any, or even all the precedents that have gone before, you will find that that is nevertheless the proper, ortho- dox opening for the concluding chapter. Yes. We have but little more to tell. In fact, what can we have to tell that is not already divined and appreciated by you, my dear reader 7 Shall we tell of Lizy — how, like the bursting-out of the bright sun from a dark cloud, that happy, joyous, radiant smile again beamed upon her countenance ; how the lustre again returned to her eye and the bloom to her cheek, and how she was precisely ten times more lovely, and ten hundred times more happy than she had ever been before, or could ever by any earthly possibility have been at all, without that very game interlude of doubt and uncertainty and distress through whicu she had passed 7 shall we go still further and expose our utter ineffi- ciency by attempting to portray the superlative happiness, the love andelysium which followed upon that " happ, event." at which it has been our sole object and design from the very first to the last, successfully to arrive? shall we tell — no. We shall do nothing of the kind. For we will not do you the injustice, my dear reader, to suppose for a i^oment that all this and so much more, even to those small presentations of affection and love, with papa's eyes and ma- ma's chin, and so forth — without which, either implied, expressed, or imagined, as you are fully aware, a tale of this sort could have no possible object in its existence — has not already been discussed in your imagination, and settled ac- cording to your own views and tastes and in- clinations — with which it becomes us not to in- terfere. Shall we then tell you of Alice, of htr happiness and her goodness ; and how at the very same time that Lizy became Mrs. Seek, she became Mrs. Dale, and of all the happy events and odvents that followed upon that happy exchange ? and shall we go on further and depict the unsullied course of prosperity and success through which Mr. Dale advanced^ until he suddenly found himself seated beside his friend in the Canadian Legislature 7 and shall we go on further still and — no ; certainly not : for that were to suppose, my dear reader, that you had no imagination whatsoever, and required to be enlighted upon self-evident facts. Precisely the same may be said of Clara and Philip. Inasmuch as you are already perfect- ly conversant with the fact, it can serve no pos- sible purpose for us to go on to state that their happiness was unsullied, their prosperity un- marred ; that their youth was spent in elysium, and their age in paradise, and that neither care, trouble, anxir^ty, nor miifortune were ever known to cast their phadow rn their way. This- is all a settled fact, as imm,,i.ly fixed in th& laws of fiction, as, in the laws of nature, is the revolving of the earth upon its imaginary axis. Such being the case, we draw the veil around them, and, just int'Tiiting — lest it should not have occurred to you so forcibly as in the other instances — that we place the amiable spinster, the once victimised Selina,and the tender-heart- ed, jolly-faced Joe in the same happy catalogue — a pair of paragons in contentment and domes- tic bliss, and leaving you to picture to yourself, if you feel disposed to do so, that amiable crea- ture with a round, chubby, red-faced epitome of Joe upon either knee, and the very quintes- sence ot motherly affection and pride in either eye ; we leave them one and all entirely at your disposal, and bid them a long farewell. Of the McCamerons we may say that they still live together in their quiet retirement, as happy and contented and beloved as such noble and generous qualities as we have seen them to possess, must inevitably render their possessors 178 LIFE AND ADVENTURES wherever they are found. While Matilda is a world of happiness to thcib in their quiet home, their children who are without in the great world are the constant source of pride and pleasure to them in a thousand ways ; and what with the constant interchange of visits — now a Plumley party, and then aMcCaineron party — and the unremitting manifestations of friend- ship and affection on all sides, they are con- tinually realizing some new pleasure, and for 'ver distilling fresh happiness through the whole of the charmed circle in which they move. " Lizy girl," said Mr. Plumley returning from & trip to Toronto some considerable time after all the great events we have here briefly allud- €d-to had taken place. — " Lizy girl, what do you think?" " I can't have the least idea," said Mrs. Plum- ley. "Well, I believe Mr. Kwackand Mr. Albosh are going to be married." " Lor, you don't say so," said Mrs. Plumley. " Dear me, what a blessing that would be for them, George dear." " Yes," continued Mr. Plumley. " I am not quite certain ; but Simon thinks so too. They didn't say anything to me about it when I saw them yesterday morning, but what I judge a good deal from is this : As I was walking down King Street in the evening, just below the Rossin House there, I all of a sudden heard a voice that I of course recognized immediate, Bay (this was all I heard, you know, — I don't know of course what led to it) ' elucidates to me that two in this country can live just about as cheap as one, if not contumaciously cheaper 1' And on looking round, what should I see but Mr. Kwack, arm in arm with a very respectable, well-looking young woman, who was a smiling her consent to what he was a saying in about as plain a English as ever I saw. Well, I had scarcely had time to observe this, v'hen I heard another voice close behind, say, as distinctly as possible, ' Fve just discov- ered that the cost of furniture for tivo would be but a mere trifle — in fact, a bagatelle.' There," continued Mr. Plumley, " considering that they are both getting-on surprising well in the places that Simon found for them and are just going to have a rise, what do you thirk of that?" Mrs. Plumley thought it decidedly ominouB. You, my] dear reader, may think of it just what \ you pleasf At this stage of affairs, it is simply our duty to record the fact as it is, — yours to put your own construction upon it. " Well," continued Mr. Plumley, " it's a great blessing, Lizy, to sue that Mr. and Mrs. Sorftilh live so comfortably together since he has re- turned. His brother tells me he is wonderfully altered, and he is now the very best of hus- bands and they seem quite happy together. And Philip says, since Josiah has gone into partneraliip with him the business has prosper- ed even more than it did before ; and he don't know how they would do now, he says, one without the other. So that's a great blessing, aint it, Lizy girl ? And what do you think Josiah was telling me besides, Lizy ? He says he read iu a paper a sliort time ago that both those Yankee scoundrels who robbed him of the money and who we have had so much tronble with at diffbrent times, have been cjm- mitted to prison somewhere, I forget where, in I the States, for forging the numbers on bank- ■ notes — that is, maKing ones into tens, and so I forth, you know. That's just what I should I have expected of them. So you see, their career i is stopped, for some time at all events. That's j what I have always said, Lizy," sa'd Mr. Plum- ley in conclusion, nodding significantly at his wife ; " no good can ever come of disboncsty, say what you will, and after all I can't see as i ought." Thinking, my dear reader, that you might be inspired with a similar opinion, we came to the conclusion that this was the proper way to dispose of our two sharp acquaintances from the other side of the line : the amount of pun- ishment and extent of retribution to be inflicted, is, with the other matters, left entirely with you to decide upon and with your imagination to realize. Timothy continueF5 the same remarkable little phenomenon in fustian as ever. With the excep- tion of one little bald spot of about the size of a penny-piece in the very centre of his tight little head, it is impossible to discover the slightest semblance of a change in any portion of either liis mental or physical development. He is precisely the same eccentric little biped as when we first picked him up jogging through the rain and sleet on that memorable night on London Bridge. It is needless to say that he still lives with the Plumleys, and that he fully intends dying with the Plumleys, should that very improbable event take place within the lifetime of any of the family. To say he was happy, wou'.d be to suppose that it were possi- t as it is, — yours to L upon it. lumley, " it'a a great Mr. and Mrs. Sorftilii er since he lias re- mo lie is wonderfully he very best of hus- ite happy together, osiah has gone into business has prosper- before ; and he don't o now, he says, one it's a great blessing, what do you think des, Lizy ? He says t time ago that both who robbed him of iiave had so much imes, have been com- •e, I forget where, in J numbers on bank- es into tens, and so just what I should ) you see, their career ,tall events. That's iiry, sa'd Mr. Plum- g significantly at his me of dishonesty, say all I can't see as i !r, that you might be lion, we came to the the proper way to acquaintances from the amount of pun- )ution to be inflicted, eft entirely with you your imagination to me remarkable little p^er. With the excep- of about the size of r centre of his tight ble to discover the lange in any portion ysical development, ccentric little biped 1 up jogging through memorable night on dless to say that he fs, and that he fully umleys, should that :e place within the ly. To say he was ! that it werfl possi- OF SIMON SEEK. 179 ble for him to be unhappy, — a supposition which has no foundation in fact. The only approxi- mation that he was ever known to show to- wards it being on one occasion, a short time ago, when Mr. Plumley presented hira with a pretty considerable " roll " of bank-notes, the result of his savings in his behalf, and suggest- ed thb advisability of his doing something on his own account. Whereupru he put forward the most distressed and troubled countenai^e that he was ever seen to wear, and proceeded to say, that he was very sorry if he had been and given any offence ; ho was reg'lar uncon- scious of it, if he had ; but to go for to think that such a s'geston should ha' cone from his old master in that there manner, was like kill- ing him by inches on the spot — that's what it was, reg'lar. William has gon * . live with the McOame- rons, where he is still esteemed as a faithful servant, and respected as the kind and ingenu- ous protector of their children, for so many years, against the wild passions of a misguided and poisoned soul, and against the inclemency and privations of the inhospitable forest. Thus, then, wc have conducted them all to their pi-oper goal — to that meridian-point from which we would not willingly disturb them. Like a good, affectionate parent, we send them forth into the world contented and hap- py and prosperous. And hark I tliL bell is al- ready jingling — the curtain falls, and our dream is at an end. Rbadbr I we have wandered a long journey together — we have passed through many scenes and talked-of many things. I would fain hope that our communion has not been in vain — that a friendship has already been cemented between us — that it may yet be improved in the future ; and that while this is our first meeting on the Great Highway, it may not be our last, and that the next may add but anothtr link to a long chain : and with the sincere expression of this hope, I lay down my pen, and wait for your response to reinspire it. ,1 \H, I W i^unttealt io'^N LOVELL, PRINTER AND PUBLISHER; i Covonto : Vm. 0. P. OAVBRHILL, BOOBBELLER AND STATIONER, TONOB MBAB KmO 8Tn2;T. AND TOR 8ALB BT ALL B00E8ELLBR8 THROCGHOTTT CANADA. 1858. •■ m^ 1-^^ jISHER; ONER, lOUT CAKADA.