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^-i.HC-^*ie>»,ias,i«Pi*IMp,jSj^

■j^feii«^i-«-S'Bii.- .■.Uu

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ADfeLE Dubois:

^ Storn

or TlIK

LOVELY MIllAMlCHf VALLKY,

-3.,

'i'H-fl^ \.

NEW BRUNSWICK.

V J .

":;n ;\.>5

LORIlSrG, PublishG

nio Wasiiinoton Stbket,
BOSTON.

Entered, Recording to Act of ConRremi, In the year IRflfl, by

A . K . li O U I ^ ,

In the Clerk's Ofllc« of the DUtrta Court for tlio District uf Miusachuactta.

n O C K W E L I. « It O I, I, I JJ H ,
rlimU AHO STKBKOTTPIUSI, 12'2 WASIIINOTOK 8TK(ET, B08T0W,

year IWW, by

lot of Miusachusetta.

MIRAMICIII.

CIIAFrER I.

TllE PUIJOHS HOUSE.

rHIET, B08T0K,

••"VYell, verily, I (lid n't expect to find anything like
this, ii*uch a wild region," aiiid Mr. Norton, as he HCttlcd
himself comfortiibly in a euriou.>jly earvcd, old-fashioned
arm-ehah-, before the fire that blazed ehecrily on the broad
hearth of the Dubois House. " 'Tis not a Yankee family
either," added he, mentally. "Everything agreeable and
tidy, but it looks unlike home. It is an Elim in the desert 1
Goodly palmtrces and abundant water I O 1 why," ho
exclaimed aloud, in an impatient tone, as if eluding hini-
eelf, •' should I ever distrust tjie goodness of the Lord?"

The firelight, playing over his honest face, re\caled eyes
, moistened with the gratitude welling up in his heart. He
*8at a few minutes gazing at the glowing logs, and then his
eyelids closed in the blessed calm of sleep. Weary trav-
eller I He has well cai-ned repose.

There will not be time, during liis brief nap, to tell who
and what he was, and why he had come to sojourn far away

■r

MIRAMICIII.

from home and friends. But let tlio curtain l)c drawn buck
for a moment, to reveal a {,'limi)8C of that" strange, ques-
tionable country over wliioli ho has been wandering for the
last few months, doinjj hard Hcrvice.

Miramichi,* a name unfamiliar, perhaps, to those who
may chance to read thc^e pnt^cs, is the di'siMjuutioii nf a
fertile, thou<{h partially cultivated portion of the iiii|)orttjnt
province of New IJrunswick, belonffinfj; to the Ihitinh
Crown. The name, by no nicauH unt.iii)honioi», is yet
euj^gestivc of awHociationa far from attractive. The jSIiro-
michi Kivcr, which {^ivcs title to this rcj^ion, has its riso
near the centre of the provnicc, luid llowin^i; eastward emp-
ties into the Gulf of St. Lawrcsnce, with Chatham, a town
of considerable importance, located at its mouth. ^

The land had originally been settled by English, Scotch,
and Irish, whose business consisted mostly of fishing and
lumbering. These occupations, pursued in a wayward and
lawless manner, liad not exerted on them an elevating or
refining influence, and the character of the people had
degenerated from year to year. Frcjm the i-emotencss and
obscurity of the country, it had become a convenient hiding-
place for the outlaw and the criminal, and its surface was
sprinkled over with the refuse and offscouring of the New
England States and the Province. Witli a i'v.w rare excep-
tions, it was a realm of almost heathenish darkness and
vice. Sucli Mr. Norton found it, when, with heart full of
compassion and benevolence, thirty-five years ago, he camo

♦ Pronounced Mir'imuhee.

tfiin 1)0 (Iniwii buck

liiit ' strniif^o, quca-

wundoring for tlic

nps, to those who

(K'siMiiiitioii of t\
II of the importi^iit
ifj^ to tlic Dritirih
'iil>h{)iiiow, is yot
etivo. The Mhu-
p^ion, has its riso
'm<r eastward crnp-
i Chatiiam, ii town

1 mouth.

y English, Scotdi,
itly of fishing and
in a wayward and
m an ohnatlng or
f the people had
ho rcniotcncss and
convenient hiding-
nd its sui'fiice waa
juring of the New
1 a i'v.w rare excop-
tiish darkness and
, with heart full of
'Cars ago, he camo

MlIiAMICIII.

to luiir the nwssngo of heavenly love and furgivencis t >
lhes(! dwellers in deatli shadi'.

The Duhois 1 louse, where Afr. Norton had foinid shelter
for the night, was situated on (he northern hank of (ho
river, ahout sixty miles west from Chafhntn. It was a
respeetahlc looking, two story huilding, with large banw
adjaeent. Standing on tv graceful hend of the hntad
stream, it eonunanded river views, several miles in extent,
in two (Ureetions, with a nearer prospect around, coiisistin"
of reaehoa of tall forest, interspersed with occasional .. pun-
lugs, made hy the rude settlera.

lieing the only dwelling in the neighhorhood sufRciently
eonunodious for (he purpose, its occui)ants, maki' • u virtue
of neeessify, iv/t.. in the h:>lnt of entertaining occ.ioioiml
travellers who happened to visit the region.

Ihit, softly, — Mr. Norton has wakened. lie was just
beginning to drc^am of home and its dear delights, when a
<loor-lat(!h was lifted, and a young girl entering, began to
make pre])arations for sui)per. She moved (juickly towaida
the tire, and with a pair of iron tongs, deftly raised the
ponderous cover of tli<' Dutch oven, hanging over the
blaze. The wheaten rolls it contained were nearly baked,
and emitted a fragrant and appetizing odor.

She refitted the cover, and then openiiig a closet, took
from it a lacfpiered Chinese tea-caddy and a silver urn, and
proceeded to arrange the tea-table.

JNIr. Norton, observing her attentively with his keen,
gray eyes, asked, " How long has your father lived in this
place, my child?"

MIPwVMICni.

The maiilcu paused in her cinplojnncnt, and glancing at
the broad, stalwart form and shrewd yet honest face ol" the
questioner, replied, "Nearly twenty \ears, sir."

i\Ir. Norton's quick cur immediately detected in her
words a delicate, foreign accent, quite unfamiliai- to him.
After a moment's silence he spoke again.

"Dubois, — that is your name, is it not? A French

name r

" Yes, sir, my parents arc natives of France."

" Ah ! indeed ! " responded Mr. Norton, and the family

in which he found himself was immediately mvestcd with

new interest in his eyes.

"^Miereis your father at the present time, my dear

child?"

"He is away at Fredericton. He has gone to obtain
family supplies. I hope he is not obhgcd to be out this
stonny night, but I fcur he is."

She made the sign of the cross on her breast and glanced

upward.

IVIr. Norton observed the movement, and at the same
time saw, what liad before escaped his notice, a string of
glittering, black beads upon her neck, with a black cross,
half liidden by the folds in the waist of her dress. It was
an instant revelation to him of the faith in which she had
been trained. He fell into a fit of musing. .

Li the mean time, Adelc Dubois completed her prepara-
tions for the tea-table, — not one of her accustomed duties,
but one wliich she sometimes took a fancy to perform.

She w\a8 sixteen years old, — tall already, and rapidly

, and glancing at
lioncst face of tlic
s, ,Kir."

detected in licr
mfamiliax- to him.

not? A French

France."

m, and the family

tely invested ■with

at time, my dear

las ffone to obtain
;cd to be out this

breast and glanced

and at the samo
lotice, a string of
itli a black cross,
icr dress. It was
in which she had

dieted her prcpara-
accustomed duties,
y to perform,
ready, and rapidly

MTR^vjiicnr.

growing taller, with a figure neither large, nor slender.
Her conii)Icxiou was pui'e white, scarcely tinged with
ri),<e ; her eyes Avcre large and brown, now shooting out a
l)right, joyous light, then veiled in dreamy shadows. A
rich mass of dark hau* was divided into braids, gracefully
looped up around her head. Her dress was composed of a
plain red material of wool. Her only ornaments were the
rosary and cross on her neck.

A mulatto girl now appeared from the adjoming kitchen
and placed upon tlie table a dish of cold, sliced chicken,
boiled eggs and pickles, together with the steammg wheat-
en rolls froiu *;ie Dutch oven.

Adele ha\mg put some tea in the m-n, poured boihng
water upon it and left the room.

Ectm-ning in a few minutes, accompanied by her mother
and ]Mi-s. ]McXab, they soon di-ew up around the tea-table.
■\Vhen seated, iMrs. Dubois and Adele made the sign of
the cross and closed their eyes. Mrs. IMcXab, glancing a,*,
them depreoatingly for a moment, at length fixed her gaze
on Mr. Norton, lie also closed his eyes and asked a
mute blessing upon the food.

]\Irs. Dubois was endowed with delicate features, a soft,
IMadonna like expression of countenance, elegance of move-
ment and a quiet, yet gi-acious manner. Attentive to
those around the board, she said but little. Occasionally,
she listened in abstracted mood to the beatmg storm
without.

Mrs. McXab, a middle-aged Scotch woman, with a
short, square, ample form, filled up a large portion of the

- '

MIUAMICIII.

siile of the tiil)lo slio occupied. Ilor coarso-foatiirod, heavy
face, t^iirroiindcd hy a hroad, muslin cap frill, that nearly
et)vcred her harsh yellow hair, was lighted uj) by a pair of
small }i,ray eyes, exprcssinj,^ a mL\tiu*e of cunning and curi-
osity, llcr rubicund visage, gaudy-colored chintz dress,
and yellow bandanna handkerchief, produced a sort of
glaring sun-flower effect, not mitigated by the contrast
afl'ordi'd by the other members of the group.

" ]Madam," said ]Mr. Norton to INIrs. Dubois, on seeing
her glance anxiously at the windows, as the wild, equinoc-
tial gale caused them to clatter violently, 'ido you fear
that your husband is exposed to any particular danger at
this time?"

" No special danger. J^ut it is a lawless coimtry. The
ni'dit is dark and the storm is loud. I wish he were
safely at home," replied the lady. '

*'Y()ur solicitude is not strange. But you may trust
him with the Lord. Under His protection, not a hau- of
his head can be touched."

Before Mrs. Dubois had time to reply, Mrs. IMcNab,
looking rather fiercely at iMr. Norton, said, " Yer dinna
suppose, sir, if the Lord had decreed from all eternity
that ]Mr. Doobyce should be drowned, or rabbed, or nmr-
» dcrcd to-night, that our prayiu' an' trustin' wad cause
llim to revoorse His foreordained purpose? Adely," she
contuuicd, " I dinna mind if I take anither ogg an' a trifle
more o' chicken an' some pickle."

]>y no means taken aback by this pointed inquiry, iNIr.
Nt)rtou replied very gently, "I believe, ma'am, in the

]

r
t

h
ai

ri
la

fr(

a J

6t€

•so-foatiired, heavy
) frill, tlijit nearly
■d up by a pair of
cunning and curi-
Drod chintz dress,
•oduced a sort of
I by the contrast
group.

Dubois, on seeing
the wild, equinoc-
ly, 'i do you fear
.rticidar danger at

less country. The
I wish he were

iut you may trust
ition, not a hau" of

ply, Mrs. jNIcNab,
said, " Yer dinna
I from all eternity
or rabbcd, or niur-
rustiu' wad cause
lose? Adcly," she
lier cgj; an' a trifle

)inted inquiry, INfr.
ve, ma'am, in the

MlKAJWIcm.

power of prayer to move (he Almighty throne, when it
comes from a sincere and humble heart, and that lie will
bestow His blessing in return."

" Weel," said Mrs. McNab, - I was brought up in the
«hurch o Scotland, and dinna believe anything auent this
new-light doctiine o' God's bein' tm-ned roun' an' o-ivin'
up ins decrees an' a' that. I thi„k it 's the ward o' Satan,"
and she passed her cup to be again refilled with tea

Adele, who had noticed that Mrs. McXab's observations
had suggested new solicitudes to her mother's mind, re-
marked, "What you said just now, Aunt Patty, is not
very consoling. Whoever thought that my father wouhl
meet with anything worse than perhaps being drenched by
the storm, and half eaten up with vemiin in the dirty inns
where he will have to lodge? I do not doubt he will be
home in good time."

- Yes, Miss Adcly, yes. I ken it," said Aunt Patty,
aa she saw a finn, defiant expression gathering in the
young gu-Ps countenance. -I'd a dream anent bun last
night that makes me think he's comin."

" Ila* ! " said Adele, starting and speaking in a clear
nngmg tone, -he has come. I heai- his voice on the
lawn,"

Murmuring a word or two of excuse, she rose instantly
fron, the table, requested Bess, the servant, to hand her
a lantern, and arrayed herself quickly in hood and cloak

As she opened the door, her father was standing on the
step, m the di-iving rain, supporting in his arms the form

11.

MIRAinCIU.

of a geutlomau, wlio seemed to be almost in a state of

insensibility.

«' Make way 1 make way, A(Ulc. Here's a isiok man.
Throw some blankets on the floor, and come, all hands,
and rub liim. My deal', order something warm for hin^

to drink."

JSIi-s. Dubois caught a pile of bedding from a neighbor-
ing closet and arranged it upon the floor, near the fire.
]\£. Dubois laid the stranger down upon it. Mr. Norton
immediately rose from the tcu-tablc, di-ew off" the boots of
the fainting man, and began to chafe his feet with his
warm, broad hand.

"Put a dash of cold water on his face, chHd," said he
to Adele, "and he'll come to, in a minute." Adele

obeyed.

The strfiTiger opened liis eyes suddenly and looked

around in astonishment upon the group.

" Alil yes. I see," he said, "I have been faint, or
eomething of the kind. I believe I am not quite well."

He attempted to rise, but sank back, powerless. He
turned his head slowly towards Ui: Dubois, fSd said,
♦'Friend Dubois, I tliink I am going to be ill, and must
trust myself to your compassion," v hen immcthately hia
eyes closed and liis comitenance assumed the paleness of

death. _•

"Don't be down-hearted, Mr. Brown," said Mr. Du-
bois. "You arc not used to tliis ]\Iiramichi staging.
You'll be better by and by. My dear, give me the cor-
dial, — he needs stinudating.'

]
1
a
t
fi

of
fei
wi

in^

thr
uri

ecU

Juif.uiiciir.

t in a state of

:'s a sick man.

jinc, all liundd,

warm fox* liim

•om a ncighbor-
, near the fire.
:. Mr. Norton
off the boots of
La feet with his

I, child," said he
ubvitc." Adele

nly and looked

^e been faint, or
ot quite well."

powerless. He
lubois, d»d said,
be ill, and must

immediately hia
[ the paleness of

," said Mr. Du-
iramichi staging,
give me the cor-

He took a n>p of French brandy, n.ixod with su^nr and
bodmg water, ft-om the hand of Mrs. i,..,,,,, ,„a ,:,,,i,,^.
terc.1 It slowly to the exhausted man. It seo.ned to have
a cpnetmg effect, and after awlule Mr. Brown sank into a
ojsturbed slumber.

Observing this, and finding that his limbs, which had
b^en CO d and benumbed, were now thoroughly warmed,
Air. Dubois rose from his kneeling position and turnin. to
1".^ daughter, said, ''Now then, Adele, take the lantern
and go wnh me to the stables. I mnst see for myself that
the horses are properly eared for. They are both tired and
tamished.

Adtle cauglit up the lantern, but Mr. Norton inter-
posed ..Allow me, sir, to assist you," he said, risiu^
quickly. .. It ,vill expose the young lady to go out in th:
storm. Let me go, sir."

He approached Adele to take the lattern from her hand,
but she di-ew back and held it fiist.

"I don't mind weatlier, sir, "she sai.l, with a little sniff
of contempt atihe thought. - And my fiither usually pre-
fers my attendance. I thank you. Will you please stay
with the sick gentleman ?"

_ air. Norton bowed, smiled, and reseated liimself near the
mvalid.

In the mean time, Mr. Dubois and his daughter went
throu-li the rain to the stables ; Ins M'ife replenished the tea-
urn and began to rearrange tlie table.

Mrs. McNab, during the scene that had thus unexpect-
ccUy oecmi-ed, had been waddling from one part of the room

i ;;

'■ 1

MIIJ.VMKUI.

to the Other, exclaiming, " Tiio Lord be gxule to us !" Ilcr
presence, however, sccnied iur tlic time to be ignored.

AVhcn she heiird the gentle movements made by Mrs.
Dubois among the di.shes, her dream seemed i^uddcnly to
fade out of view. Seating herself again at the table, nhe
diligently pur.sued lilie task of finishing her suijper, yet ever
and anon cxamiuing the prostrate form upon the floor.

" Peradvcnturc he's a mon fra' the States. His claithes
look pretty nice. As ii gcn'al thing them people fra' the
States hae i)lenty t)' plaek in thcu* pockets. What do you
think, su- ?"

"lie is undoubtedly a gentleman from New England,"
said ;Mr. Norton.

lia(
yet

h0|

hei
tin

(

we
wo

Sc(
fan
pac
ros
am
cliti
era

rude to us ! " Ilcr
I be ii^'iiorcil.
ta niado by IMr-s.
3mcd Huddeiily to
at the table, who
r auijper, yet ever
(on tlie floor.
tcrf. His elaitlics
m people fra' the
s. What do you

I New England, "

CiLVPTER 11.

MUS. m'NAD.

Mks. McN.Ui was a native of Dumfries, Scotland, and
had made her advent in the jNIiraniichi country abijut five
ycai'a previous to the ocruiTcnces just mentioned.

Having buried her liusband, mother, and two children, —
hoping that change of scene might lighten the weight upon
her spirits, she had concluded to emigrate* with some in-
timate acquaintances to the I'rovince of New Bruns\vick.

On first reaching tlie settlement, she had spent several
weeks at the Dubois House, where she set immediately at
work to prove her accomplishments, by assisting in mak-
ing up dresses for Mrs. Dubois and Adele.

She entertained them wuth ac(U)unts of her former life in
Scotland, — talking largely about her acquaintance with the
family of Lord Lindsay, in which she had served iu the ca-
pacity of mirsc. She described the castle in whicii they
resided, the furniture, the servants, and the grand company ;
and, more than all, she knew or pretended to know the tra-
ditions, legends, and ghost stories connected, for many gen-
erations past, with the Lindsay race.

She talked untiringly of these matters to the neighboi's,
2a

MinAMICllI.

oxcitin.^ their intcc.t and won.ler l,y the now ,,l.n..es ofUfc
presented, an.l fnruU\un<^ loo.l f..r the s„,,er.titiouH tonden-
ckw alNvays rife in new and ign..rant settlement.. In short,
by these n.eans, she won her way gi-adnally in the conunu-
nity, until she came to he the general faetotuni.

It was notieed, indeed, that in the annnal r.,und of her vis-
it. fron^honseto house, Mrs. McNab had a peculiar faculty
of sccurin'T to herself the various material comforts availaUe,
h.xvin.ran''excellent appetite and a genius for appropnatmg
the warmest seat at the fireplace and any other little kuxury
.,.„oin-. These things were, however, overlooked, cspc-
ci.dly by the women of the region, on account of her social
nualities, she being an invaluable companion during the
lone, dr.ys and evenings when their husbands and sons were
nw^y, engaged in hnnberin;-- .^r fishing. When the fannly
with wluch she happened to be sojourning were engaged
in domestic occupations, ^Irs. MeNab, established in soino
cosey corner, told her old wife stories and wlnled away the
long and dismal wintry hours.

Of all the people among whom she moved, Adele Dubois
least exercised the grace of patience toward her.

On the return of ]Mr. Dubois and his daughter to the
house, after having seen the horses safely stowed away, he
refreshed himself at the tea-table and left the room to at-
tend to necessary business. Mrs. Dubois and Mrs. Mc-
Nab went to fit up an apartment for the stranger.

In the mean time m. Norton and Adele were left witl

the invalid.

Mr. Brown's face had lost its paUid hue and was no^v

a
c

b:
ai

bi
ki
w

sl(
wl
ne
ha

no
ca

he
to-

Ai
SL

MIKAJIICIII.

! new ])lin..''C9 of life
ipcrt'titious tendcn-
cmentd. In Hhort,
iilly In the coniuui-
ctotuni.

iinl round of her vis-
1(1 !i i»ofuliiir faculty
1 comforts iiviiihiblc,
U9 for apin-opriuting
y other little luxury
•, overlooked, cspc-
iceount of her social
npanion during the
bands and sons were
, When the family
irning were engaged
, established in sonic
and whilcd away the

r.oved, Adele Duboia
I ward her.

his daughter to the
fcly stowed away, he
1 left the room to at-
3ubois and Mrs. Mc-
he stranger.

Adele were left with

iiid hue and was now

overspread witli the fiery glow of fever. lie grew moro
and inorc restless in his sleep, until at length he ojiened hia
eyes wide and b.^gan to talk deliriously. At tlic first sound
of his voice, Adele started froni her scut, expecting to hear
sonic request fi-oni his lips.

Gazing at her wildly for a moment, he ex(,-laimod,
"What, you here, Agnes! you, travelling in this horrible
wilderness I Where's your husband? Where's John, the
brave boy? Don't bring them here to taunt me. Go
away 1 Don't look at mo ! "

Whh an expression of terror on liis countenance, he sank
back upon the pillow and closed Ids eyes. Mr. Norton
knelt down by the couch and made slow, soothing motions
with his hand upon the hot and fevered head, until the
sick man sank again into slumber. Seeing this, Adele,
who had been standing in mute bewildennent, came softly
near and wliispored, ' ' lie has been doing somethmg >\Tong,
has he not, sir ? "

" I hope not," said the good man, " Ho is not liimsclf
now, and is not aware what he is saying. His fever
causes liis mind to wander."

"Yes, 8U-. But I think he is unhappy beside being
sick. That sigh was so sorrowful ! "

" It was sad enough," said Mr. Norton. After a pause,
he continued, " I will stay by hia bed and take caxe of him
to-night." *

«♦ Ah ! will you, sir ? " said Adele. ' ' That is kind, but
Aunt Patty, I know, will insist on taking charge of hun.
She tliinks it her right to take care of all the sick people.

'3-

MIUAMIC'III.

But I don't wish her to ntiiy with tills gnitlt'mnii to-night.
If he talks ii-rain an he did juat now, shu will tell it all over
the ncijflihorhood."

At tlmt moment, the door opened, and Mrs. McNub
cauic waddling in, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Dubois.

•• Now, Mr. Doobycc," said she, " if you and this pus-
eon will just carry the patient up stairs, and place him on
the bed, that's a' yo need do. I'll tak' care o'hiuj."

" Permit me the privilerro of watching by the gentleman's
bed to-night," said Mr. ISorttm, turning to Mr. Dubois.

"By no means, sir," said his host; "you have had a
long ride through the forest to-day and nuist be tired.
Aunt Patty hero prefers to take charge of him."

" Sir," said ISlr. Nt^rton, " I obsened awhile ago, that
his mind was quite wandering. lie is gi-catly excited by
fever, luit I succeeded in quieting him once and perhaps
may be able to do so again."

Here Mrs. McNab interposed in tones somewhat loud
and irate.

" That's the way pussons fra' your country always talk.
They think they can do everything hctter'n anybody else.
What can a mon do at nussin', I wad ken? "

"Mr. Norton will nurse him well, I know. Let him
take care of the gentleman, father," said Adele. .

" Ilush, my dear," said INIr. Dubois, decidedly, " it ia
proper that Mrs. McNab take charge of ^Ir. Brown to-
night."

Adele made no reply, and only showed her vexation
by casting a defiant look on the redoubtable aunt Patty,

whc

iiavi

but

opp(

lent

A
c^tal
Mr.

A
was
tlie <

A
rcvc:
were
acco
luka
undc
inicli

to til

Dub

ill th
had :
comi
Tl
wane
accui
lienij
iiiigl;

iitliinaii tn-ni^lit.
vill toll it all over

lul Mrs. iSIcNiib
Irs. Dubois,
you niul this pus-
aiul jilacc him on
re o'hiiu."
)y the <j('iitloinan's
to Mr. Dulxiis.
" you have ha<l a
(I nuist he tired,
fhiin."

I awhile a^o, that
greatly excited hy
once and perha[)3

38 somewhat loud

imtry always talk,
jr'u anybody else.
1?"

know. Let him
Adelc. .

dceidedly, "it is
}f Mr. Brown to-
wed her vexation
•table aunt Patty,

MlH;V.Mi(iii

wliosc faro was overspread with a grin of eatisfUctlon ut
liavin},' earried her point.

Mr. Xorton, of course, did not press his proposal farther,
but consoled h!in«'lf with the thou^dit, that s(mie fiituro
opportunity might oeeur, enablinjr him to fulfil his bcncvo-
kiit intentions.

A quietinj? powder was administered and ]Mrs. ;MeXab
established herself beside the lire that had been kiniUcd in
Mr. Brown's apartment.

After bavin-,' indicated to Mr. Xorton the bedroom ho
was to occupy for the ni;;ht, the family retii-ed, leaving' him
the only inmate of the room.

As he sat and watched the dyin<r embers, he fell into a
reverie concerning the events of the evening. I lis nuisino-g
were of a somewhat [lerplexed nature. lie was at a loss to
.iccount for the appearance of a gentleman, bearing unmis-
tiikable marks of refinement and wealth, as did Mr. Brown,
under such eircunistances, and in such a region as Mira-
inichi. The words he had uttered in his delirium, added
to the mystery, lie was also puzzled about the family of
Dubois. How came people of such culture and superiority
in this dark portion of the earth? IIow strange, that thj
had lived here so many years, without assimilating to
common herd around them.

Thus his mind, excited by what had recently occun-ed,
wandered on, until at length his thoughts fell into their
accustomed channel, — dwelling on his omi mission to this
lienightcd land, and framing various schemes by wliich ho
might accomplish the object so dear to liis heart.

the^
the

Mi«.\Miritf.

III the iiic'in time, lia.iii;,' tiiniiid lii.i I'fcf imrtiully iisiilc
Wnui tilt' fiiv, Ih' wiiH wiilt'liin;^ uiicdiif-ciminly tlii) iitlnl
glcaniiiij,' nf ii lii>ht nint (in the opptwitu wiiIl l»y the ocni.
HioMiil lliiiiiij,' up tti" u li)ii<,'uc of llumc tVoin tlio dyiii;,'
cinlnTH.

Siuldi'Mly ho honrd a (U'('i», whirring •^numl nx If tin'
spiiiijjs of Hoino odiiiplifatod iiiiu'l iuiirj liiui jU-. tiicn Luiii
Hot ill inntiiiii.

liOdkiii^ iiroiiiid to f'lid vlcncc the u<>m procot'dcd, lio
was rather .nfarthd on t)l>M' rviiiL;- in tho wall, in one corner,
jiiHt under the ccilin;/, a tiny door {\y <>»)eii, mid oinerj^iii;'
thenec a j;rotoH(|iio, niiniatiirc iimn, holdiiij;, uplifted in hU
hand, a haiiiiner of ni/e propoitlonatc to his own (ijxniv,
Mr. Xorton nat motionless, while tiiis Hiiiall .«iieeiiiien pro-
ceeded, with 11 jerky ;,'fut and many hohhin;^ j^rhnaci',
ncroMs a wire Htrctehcd to the opi>o.sitc corner of the room,
where ntood a tall, chony chick. When within a HJimt
distance of the cluck another tiny door in its side Hew
open ; the little man entered and struck delihcratcly with
tho hammer the hour of midIli;^•ht. Near tho toji of the
dial-plate was seen from without tho rejrular uplifting of the
litth; arm, applying,' its utroke to the hell within. Having
performed his duty, this pcrsona<j;o jerked out of the clock,
the tiny door closin}? .hcliind him, hohhcd and jerked along
the wire as before, and disappeared at the door in the wiill,
which also immediately closed after his exit.

llaviii<r Avitnessod the whole nianiciivre with comic w -
der and ruriosity, Mr. Norton burst into a loud and hcj^'}'
peal f Inii^'i. luit was ;> resounding in the room wl.ca

lie her
Tliere

.-(|ii!iri;

|||ied i
^trenf;

Her
nmod I
plltlel

"II
1 expe
;iiii w«
good r

.Mr.
ill,:,' til
pMi'doii
like oil

-II
a>kcd.

"O
lin;-' I
riMii' d(
went t(
ii'iiiidy
i:ig th(
chsorvc
uiiikinj;
riiiiin.

Tiiat
tiuhed

Ci'cc |miliiilly n.^Mf
nr«('illll^ly till! fitl'iil
(! wall liy tlio ot'cu-
10 from the ilyiii;,'

i(r Himml M if tlm
'uui jii tiicn l)ct'n

liuiHo proceeded, Iio
wall, ill one corntr,
^peii, and emerjiiii;'
illii^', u|ilirtt'd ill I'i-i

to liis own fii,niiv.
Hiuall .«iioeiinen pid-

l)ol)l)in;^ j;riiimc(%
eorner of the room,
hen within a Mhnit
lor in its side fi(ff
ck dcliherately with
S'ear the top of the
■ulani])liftin<r of the
lM within. IL'tviiij;
ed out of the clock,
ed and jerked aloii;,'
he door in the Wiill,
exit.

/re with comic W'.;)-
() a loud and hejui'}'
ig in the room w|.ia

»frfi,^Mio!ii.

he h««cnme -i IdeiilyawiH, f the prcM'nre of Mr^. Afc.Vuh.
There nhe ^UhhI in the centre of thp opartment, lier firm,
^f lire lio:niv iippiiirnllv i-„u(,.,l to the floor, lirr lieiul envoK
<'|''d in iiiiimiicnihjc t;,|d.s of whiter' cotton, a tower (»f
^ll■l•nJLrth and di'liance.

Her unexpected appearance chan^'cd in a nioi.ient the
iiMMid of tlie fr,„„l ,„„|,^ ,„„i In, i,„|i,ir,.,i anxiously, '•Istho
piitlcman more ill? Can I aHHi.-t you?"

"Ile'.s ju.-'t this miniiiit closed Im'h eycH to .nIcpj), nnd naw
1 expect hc'M wide a\vak(! a;,niin, with tlM drcadfu' incket
:»» w<Te ju.st u makin'. O I my I wailrtu you lue made a
^iiod nuMH?"

Mr. Norton truly gi-ieved at Iuh inadvertency in di,*4urh-
in-' the household at this late hoiP^of the ni-ht, l)e'rf,rea
p:inl(.n, and told Mrs. McNah he woidd not Ic -uilty'^f a
like ollence.

" How has the gentleman heen during the even ng?" ho
!i-kcd.

" O I he's heen ravin' crazy n'nuiist, andohstacled every-
thing I've done for him. He's n very sick pusson n;iw. I
<:iiii' down to get a liottle of nuuhlcs(m," and Mrs. MeXah
"(lit to a closet and took iVoni it the identical horflo of'
Huiidy from which iMrs. Dubois had poured when jii ,[)ar-
m^ the stimulating dose for the invalid. Mv. N.. ton
ohscrved this performance with a t\^nkle of the eye, hut
making no conmicnt, tlio worthy woman retired from die
ruom.

That night Mr. Norton slept indifferently, being d -
turi)ed by exciting imd bewildering dreams. In his slui —

BITRAMICni.

bers he saw an immense ciitliedrnl, liglitoil only hy Avliiit
eccmecl some great conflagmtion without, which, ghiring in,
■with horrid, crimson hue upon the pioturccl walls, gave tlic
plarc the strange, lurid aspect of Pandemonium. The
effect was heightened hy the appearance of thousands oi'
small, grotesque beings, all bearing more or less rcseiii-
blancc to the little man of the clock, who were flymg ami
bobbing, jerking and grinning througli the air, beneath tlie
great vault, as if madly revelling in the scene. Yet the
good man all th9 Avhile had a vague sense of some awful,
impending calamity, which increased as he wandered
around in gi'cat perplexity, exploring the countenances of
the various groups scty^red over the place.

Once ho stumbled over a dead body and foimd it tlic
coi"pse of the invalid in the room above. lie seemed to
himself to be lifting it carefully, when a lady, fair and
stately, in rich, sweeping garments, took the burden from
his arms, and, sinking with it on the floor, kissed it tenderly
and then bent over it with a look of intense soitow.

Farther on he saw J\Ii*. and I\Irs. Dubois, with Adelc,
kneeling imploringly, with terror-stricken faces, before a
representation of the Vu-gin Mary and her divine boy-
Then the glare of light in the buikling increased. Eush-
ing to the entrance tc^ook for the cause of it, he there met
Mrs. McNab coming towards him with a wild, disordered
countenance, — her white cotton head-gear floating out like
a banner to the breeze, — shaking a brandy bottle in the
faces of all she met. He gained the door and found himself
enwrapped in a sheet of flame.

S
ous

i'OOll

rose
A

his 1

hud

ing 1

itoil only hy ■\vliiit
which, ghiring in,
cd walls, gave tlic
lulcinomum. The
3 of thousantld oi'
OTC or less rescm-
10 were flyuig aiul
lie air, beneath the

scene. Yet the
nse of some awful,

as he wandered
le couuteuances of

ICC.

y and found it tlic
e. lie seemed to

1 a lady, fair and
k the burden fi-oin
r, kissed it tenderly
;nse soitow.
ubois, with Adelc,
i:en faces, before a
>d her divine boy,

increased. Kush-

of it, he there mot

a wild, disordered

yjx floating out like

•andy bottle in the

)r and found hinisclt'

uriRAjiirTTr.

Suddenly the whole scene passed. lie woke. A glori-
ous September sun was irradiating the walls of his bed-
room, lie heard the movements of the family below, and
rose hastily.

A few moments of thought and prayer sufficed to clear
his healthy brain of the fantastic forms %\d scenes which
had invaded it, and he was liimself again, ready jmd pant-
ing for service.

in
in
til

• CHAPTER m.

jm. NORTON.

In order to brin- Mr. Norton more distinctly before the
reader, it is necessary to give a few particulars of lus pre-

vious life. ,

lie was the son of a New England fanner. IIis father
had -iven him a good moral and religious training and the
usuid common school education, but, being poor and havmg
a large family to provide for, he had turned him adrift upon
the sea of life, to shape liis own course and wm his own tor-
tunes. These, in some respects, he was well calculated todo.
lie possessed a frame hardened by labor, and, to a native
«lu-ewdness and self reliance, added traits which tluw light
and warmth into his character. IHs sympatliies were easily
roused.by suffering and want. He spurned cveiything mean
and ungenerous, -was genial in disposition, indeed brun-
niin- withmirtlifulncss, and, in every situation, attracted to
himlclf numerous friends. He was, moreover, an excellent

blacksmith.

After leaving liis father's roof, for a half score of years,
he was led into scenes of temptation and danger. But, bav-
in- passed through various fortunes, the whispers of the

in;
JI(

(h
ur
ac
th,

se:

oc
ho

at
tai
sti
int
Tl;
till
mn

ph
oit
llf
he

MIRAJIICni.

tinctly before the
ulars of liid pre-

mer. His father
I training and the
r poor and having
d him adrift upon

I wm hia own for-

II calculated todo.
•, and, to a native
which tlu-ew light
latliies were easily
\ cvciything mean
ion, indeed brini-
iation, attracted to
iover, an excellent

ilf score of years,
anger. But, hav-
ic whispers of the

intcrnnl monitor, and the voice of a loving wife, drew liiia
into Ix.'ttcr and snfcr paths, lie betook hinisoU" unremit-
tingly to the duties of liis occupation.

liy the influence of early parental training, and the teach-
ings of the Heavenly Spirit, he was led into a religious life.
1 le dedicated himself unreservedly to Christ. This intro-
duced him into a new spiiere of effort, one, in which liis nat-
lU'ally expansive nature found free scope. He became an
active, devoted, joyous follower of tlie Great Master, and,
tlienccforward, desired nothing so much as to labor in hia
service.

About a year after this important change, a circumstance
occun-cd which altered the course of his outward life.

It happened that a stranger came to pass a night at his
house. During the conversation of a long winter evening,
his curiosity became greatly excited, in an account, given
by his guest, of the Mu'amiclii region. He was astonished
at the moral darkness reigning there. The place was dis-
tant, and, at that time, almost inaccessible to any, save the
strong and hardy. But the light of life ought to be thrown
into that darkness. Who should go as a torch-bearer?
The inquiry had scarcely risen in his breast, l)efore he
thought he heard the worils spokeii almost aucUbly, Thou
must go.

Here, a peculiarity of the good blacksmith must be ex-
plained. l\)ssessed of great practical wisdom and saga-
city, he was yet easily affected by preternatural Infiuetices.
Ho was subject to very strong " impressions of mind," as
he called them, by which he was urged to pm'sue one

•iil

I.: i

MiRAArirm.

course of comluct in^^toad of another ; to follow out one
plan of husinos.s In prciciviu-e to anotlior, t-vcn wlicn there
.seeuKHl to 1)0, no apparent reason, why tlio one eonrse was
better than its alternative. He had sometimes obeyed these
impressions, sometimes luul not. Bnt he thought he had
found, in the end, that he should have invariably foUowod

them.

A particular instance confirmed him in this belief. One
day, being in New York, he Avaa extremely anxious to
comi)lete his business in (mlcr to take piissagc home in a
sloop, announced to leave pcn-t at a certain hour in tliQ
afternoon, llesolving to be on board the vessel at the time
appointed, he hurried from place to place, from street to
street, in the accomplishment of his plan. But he was
strangely hindered in liis arrangements and haunted by an
imi)rcssion of trouble connected with the vessel. Having,
however, left his wife ill at home, anil being still determined
to go, he pressed on. It luippeted that he an'ivcd at the
wharf just as the sloop had got beyond the possibility of
reaching her, and he turned away bitterly disappointed. The
iu<^rht that followed was one of darkness and horror ; the
slo(»p caught fire and all on board perished.

He had now received an impression that it was his duty
to go, as an ambassador of Clu-ist, to IMiramichi.

Having for sometime previous " exercised his gift" whh
acceptance at various social religious meetings, he applied
to the authorities of his religious denomination for license

to preach.

After passing a creditable c'xamination on points deemed

e
I

t(
II

f.
h
k

Min.uiicm.

follow out one
, even wlicu there
c one eoiirse was
hues obeyed these
c thought he h:ul
ivariiibly followed

thii l)elief. One
cmely anxious to
psissage home in a
rtain hour in tliQ
! vessel at the time
ICC, from street to
an. But he was
md haunted by an
! vessel. Iliiving,
ng still dctcrniincd
, he aiTived at the

1 the possibility of
disappointed. The
s and horror; the

3d.

hat it was his duty

iramichi.

:iscd his gift " with

cctings, he applied

aination for license

a on points deemed

essential in the case, he obtained a commission and a cor-
dial God speed from his brethren. They augm'(M well for
his success.

To be sure, the deficiencies of liis early education some-
times made themselves manifest, notwithstanding the diligent
clforts he had put forth, of late years, to remedy the lack.
But on the other hand, he had knowledge of human nature,
i<agaeity in adapting means to ends, a wide tolerance of
those unfortunate ones, involved by»whatever ways ia
guilt, deep and earnest piety, and a remarkable natural
eloquence, both winning and forcible.

So he had started on liis long journey through the wilder-
ness, and here, at last, he is found, on the banks of the
Miramichi, checrfid and active, engaged in his great work.

The reader was informed, at the close of the last chap-
ter, that after the perplexing visions of the night, by the
use of charms of which he well knew the power, iVIr.
Xorton nad cleared his Ijraiu of the uripleasant phantoms
that had invaded It during his slumbers. Being quick and
forgctlve in liis mental operations, even while completing
his toilet, he had formed a plan for an attack upon the
kingdom of darkness lying around lilm.

As he entered the room, the scene of Ills last night's ad-
venture, his face beaming with chcei-fidness and courage,
Adele, who was just then laying the table, thought his ap-
pearance there like another sunrise.

After the morning salutations were over, he looked
around the apartment, observing It, in its daylight aspect,
with a somewhat puzzlSd air. In some respects, it waa

Min^viwiciii.

entirely unlike what he hurl seen before. The broad etone
hearth, with its large blazing fire, the Duteh oven, the
air of neatness and thrift, were like those of a New Eng-
land kitchen, but here the resemblance ceased.

A paper-hanging, whose originally rich hues had be-
come in a measure ihnmicd, covered the Avalla ; and cu-
rious old pictures hung around; the chairs and tables
were of heavy dark woo.l, elaborately and grotesquely car-
* ved, as was also tke ebony clock in the corner, whose won-
derfid mechanism had so astonished him on the previous
evening. A low lounge, covered with a crimson material,
occupied a remote corner of the room, with a Turkish mat
spread on the floor betore it. At tlu3 head of the couch
was a case, curiously carved, filled with books, and be-
neath, in a little niche in 'the wall, a yellow ivory crucifix.
It did not occur to the good man to make any compari-
son between this room with its peculiar adornings, and the
Puritan kitchen with its stiff, stark furniture. One of the
latter description was found in his own home, and the place
where his loved ,ones lived and moved, was to him invested
wnth a beauty altogether hidependent of outward form and
show. But, as he looked around with an air of satisfac-
tion, this room evidently pleased his eye, and he paid an
involuntary tribute to its historic suggestiveucss, by falling
into a reverie concerning the life and times of the good Ro-
man Catholic Fenelon, whose memoir and writings he had

read.

Soon Adele called Mm to the breakfast-table.

Mrs. McNab not having made her appearance, he in-

:s\

he
til
di

cli
b(

m
le

to
tr

pi
^\

fa
b

The broad stone
! Dutch oven, the

of 11 New Eng-
;asc(l.

ich hues had bc-

10 walls ; and cu-
chahv-i and tabled
;1 grotesquely car-
)rner, whose won-

11 on the previous
, crimson material,
ath a Turkish mat
lead of the couch
:h books, and be-
llow ivory crucifix,
nuke any comi)ari-
adorniiigs, and the
liturc. One of the
ionic, and the place
vas to him invested
' outward form and

1 an air of satisfac-
^'0, and he paid an
;tivene8s, by falling
les of the good Ro-
nd writings he had

st-table.
appearance, he in-

MIR/VMICin.

quired if any tidings had been heard from the sick-room.
Mrs. Dubois replied, that she had listened at the door and
hearing no soiuid, concluded Mr. IJrown was quiet under
the influence of the sleeping powder, and consequently, she
did not rim the risk of disturlnng hiui by going in.

" Should Aunt Patty happen to begin snoring in her
chair, as she often docs," said Adele, " Mr. Brown would
be obliged to Avake up. I di^ any one to sleep when
she gets into one of those fits."

"Adele," said her father, while'a smile played round his
mouth and twinkled in his usually grave eyes, " can't you
let Mrs. AlcXab have any peace?"

" Is Mr. Brown a friend of yours?" inquu'cd JSIi'. Norton
of his host.

"I met him for the first time at Fredericton. lie was at
the hotel when I an-ived there. \Ye accidentally fell into
conversation one evening. He made, then and subsequent-
ly, many inquiries about this region, and when I was ready
to start for home, said that, with my permission, he would
travel with mc. I fancy," ^Ir. Dubois added, " hc was
somewhat ill when we left, but ho did not speak of it.
We had a rough journey and I tliink the exposure to
which he was subjected has increased his sickness. If he
proves to be no better to-day, I shall send IMicah for Dr.
Wright," said he, turning to his wife. "I hope you will,
father," said Adele, speaking very decidedly. " I should
be sorry to have him consigned over wholly to the tender
mercies of Mrs. McNab."

*'Mr. Dubois," said the missionary, laying down his

pi.:

Min.vMirm.

knilb .-mil furlv, PU.lilonly, " I must confess, I am perfectly
Bui-iTiscd t<. fuul such 11 family as yours in this place. From
previous report, and iiulecd fn.iu my own observation in
rcuehing here, I had received the idea, that the inhal.i-
tants were not only a wicked, but a very rude ami un-
couth set of people."

•' Whatever may b(! your opinion of ourselves, aw"
replied his host, " you arc^iot far amiss in regard to the
character of the people. They arc, in general, a rough set."
"Well, sir," said ^Ir. Norton, " aa an honest man, I
must inform you, that I came here with a purpose in view.
I have a message to this people, — a message of love and
merry ; and I trust it will n..t be displeasing to you, if I
promulgate it in this neighborhood."

" I do not understand your meaning," said Mr. Dubois.

" I wish, sir, to teach these people, some of the truths of

morality and religion such as are found in the 13iblc. I

have ventured to guess that you and your family are of the

ll(jman Catholic faith."

' ' AV'e belong to the conmumion of that church, su-.
•' That being the case, and thinking you may have some
interest in this matter, I wouM say, that I wish t(i make an
attempt to teach the knowledge of divine things to thii
people, hoping thereby to raise then from thcii" present
state to sometliing better and holier."

"A worthy object, sir, but altogether a hopeless one.
You have no idea of the condition of the settlers here.
You cannot get a hearing. They scofF at such tilings
utterly," said Mr. Dubois.

th
in
ni

til

lai

•an

SOI

MIiaMICIII.

9, I am perfectly
tliirt place. FrDiii
ni o!)8orvatii)n in
that the iiihahl-
ny riido and uu-

f oursclvcsi, sir,"
in regard to the
icral, a rough set."
an honest man, I
, purpoi^e in view,
sssao-c of love and
jading to you, if I

" said IMr. Dubois.

me of the truths of

in the Uihle. I

r family are of the

it church, sir."
ou may have some
I wish to make an
inc things to thii
from thcu' present

ler a hopeless one.
■ the settlers here.
)fF at such tilings

" Is there any objection in your own mind against an
endeavor to enlist their interest?" asked ^Mr. Norton.

" Xot the least," said .Mr. Dubois.

*' Then I will try to collect the pcoi)lc together and tell
thoni my views and wishes. Is there any man here hav-
ing influence with this class, who would bo willing to aid
me in this movement?"

^Ir. Dul)ois meditated.

•* I do not know of one, sir," ho said. " They all drink,
swear, gamble, and profane holy things, and seem to have
no respect for either God or man."

" It is too true," remarked Mrs. Dubois.

" Xow, father," said Adele, assimiing an air of wisdom,
that sat rather comically on her youthful brow, "J think
]\licah jMummychog woidd be just the person to help this
gentleman."

" ]Mieah Mummychog!" exclaimed !Mr. Norton, throw-
ing himself back in his chair and shakin*; out of his lunjxs
a huge, involuntary haw, haw, "where docs the person
you speak of hail from to own such a name as that, my
dear child?"

' ' I rather think he came from Yankee land, — from your
part of the country, sir," said Adele, mischievously.

"Ah, well," said INIr. Norton, with another peal of
liiiightcr, " we do have some curious names in our parts."

" ]\Iicah ]Muramychog ! " exclaimed Mr. Dubois, " what
are you thiidiing of, Adele ? Why, the fellow drinks and
swears as hard as the rest of them."

" Not quite," persisted the child, "and besides, he haa
some g<jod about him, I know."

I-' i

1.:-

!■■■: ■ •!

muAMicni.

«» 'NVliat have you socn good about him, pray?" siiiil lur

father.

" Why, you rcniomhcr tliat when I (hscovrred the little
ghl floating down the river, Mieali took iiit* boat and went
out to Ining her ashore. 1I(! t<tok tlie luxly, dripping, in
his arms, carried it to hi« house, and hiid it down an ten-
derly as if it iiad been his own sister. lie asked uic to
please go luid get Mrs. MeXal) to come and i)repare it for
burial. The little thing, he said, was entirely dead and
frone. I started to uo, as he wished, bnt happened to
think I would" just step back and look at the aweet face
once more. Wlicii I opened the door, Micah was bending
over it, with his cjcs full of tears. When I asked, what
is the matter, Micah? he said he was thinking of a littlo
sister of his that was drowned just so in the Kennebec
River, many years ago."

"That showed some feeling, certainly," said iNIrs. Du-
bois.

' Then, too, I know," continued Adele, " that the peo-
ple here like him. If any one can get them together,
IVlicah can."

"Weill" said Mr. Dubois looking at his child with a
fond pride, yet as if doubting whether she were not alreatly
half spoiled, "it seems you arc the wiseacre of the family. I
know Micah has always been a fiivorite of yours. Perhaps
the gentleman will give your views some consideration."

"Father," replied Adele, "I have oidy said what I
think^about it."

" I'll try what I can do with ^licali INiammychog," said
Mr. Norton decidedly, and the conversstion ended.

the]
11

clear
lious
a sh(
edge

M
(liirir
wild(
India
last
was I
in hii
••oom

Til
coars
tackli
iirear

n, pray ? " anltl lu r

lispovorctl llu! little

Ills boat ami went

l)(i(ly, (Iriiipinfj, in

litl it down aH tcn-

IIo nskcd luc to

J and i)rcpare it for

entirely doad and

, I»ut happened to

w at the Hweet faec

Micah wad bending

'hen I asked, what

tliiiikinfif of a littlo

in the Kennebec

ily," said ^Irs. Du-

blc, " that the pco-
Tct them together,

at hia child with a
he wci'C not already
3rc of the family. I
>f yours. Perhaps
e- consideration."
! oidy said what I

Mammychog," said
(tion ended.

ciiAi^ER rv.

MIC.UI MUJDIYCIIOa.

Adout ten years before the period when this narrative
liogins, Alicah jMiunmychog had come to this country from
the Kennebec River, in the State of Maine.

He soon purcluuscd a dozen acres of land, partially
floared them, and built a large-sized, comfortable log
house. It was situated not for from the Dubois house, at
a Khort distance from the bank of the river, and on the
edge of a grove of forest trees*.

Micah iidiabited his house usually only a few montlia
(luring the year, as he was a cordial lover of the unbroken
wilderness, and waa as migratory in liis habits as the native
Indian. On the morning after the events related in the
last chapter, he happened to be at home. While Adele
wiis guiding the missionary to his cottage, he was sitting
in his kitchen, which also served for a general reception
room, burnislung up an old Dutch fowling-piece.

The apartment was furnished vrith cooking utensils, and
coarse wooden furniture ; the walls hung around with fishing
tackle, moo-^e-horus, skins of wild animals and a variety of
lircarras.

f'j

Miituiicin.

Mionh wn« no common, Htiii»iil, lMmi|.kit»-loi)kin;? por-ou.
Bcloii^'in;^ to till! jfi'iiii-t YiiuktM', In- liiul Vft a tVw imciiIi u'
tniits III" Ills iiwii. iff liail ii Hiiialli-'li, l)iillit-^lia|iiil li»iici,
Hi'f, witli (li;;Milit.tl pui'O, nij a pair of wido, llat .*Ii(>iiliUr.'»,
His chcHt was hroatl uiul mwcIHuj,', liin limlw Htraij,'lit, mii-'-
culur, nn»l istn)iif». Hi-* cycH were lar^'o, roinul, and bliu-.
^VIu'l» Ills mind \va« in a wlatc of ropcwc and his countiii-
unco at rest, they liad a HoliMnn, owl-like cxiuTssion. Ikt
when in an cxclU'd, oliserviuit mood, tlicy wore keen ami
Moarchini^ ; and human orlw sniely never expressed more
rolliekinj,' fun than did his, in his hours of recreation, lie
had a habit of darting' them around a vide eirdo of ohjects
Vitliout turning his head a hairshri'.'idth. This, together
with another peculiarity of turning liLs head, occasionally,
ut u sharp angle, with the quick (uid sudden motion of ii
cut, probaldy was acquired in his hunting lilb.

Micidi hiul never taken to himself a heli)mate, and aa fur
as mere housekeeping was concerned, one would judge, ou
looking around t'-.o decent, tidy apartment in which ho sat
and of which he had the sole care, that he did not particularly
need one. lie washed, scoured, baked, lirewed, swept ami
dusted as deftly as any woman, and did it all as a lAatter of
course. These were, however, only his minor accomplish-
ments, lie commanded the highest wages in the lumber
camp, was the best fisheraian to be found in the region, and
had the good luck of always bringing down any game ho
Lad set his heart upon.

Micah had faults, but let those pass for the present.
There was one achievement of liis, worthy of all praise.

I
J

tl
a
a
a
a
f(
b

01
AV

tr
T

b(
{[>
dl
W

kiti-liMikin'* priNcii,
1 ytt 11 fVw jH'ciili ir
liilllcf-.>'li!l|ii'il Iu-ik!,
iili', lliit >Iii»iiM(r.'».
iinl)^ htriiij;hf, nui"<-
!, ruiiiul, and liluo.
ii! and liirt coiiufiii-
kO cxpn's.iion. IJiit
lioy wore keen uinl
ver exprcM.xcd more

of recreation. He
idc cirelo of ol)jeotj<,
th. This, togetlior

head, occawionaily,
'iidden motion of ii
ug lifo.

lelpmatc, and (is fur
mo would judge, oa
iicnt in which ho s:it
e did not particidarly
, l)rcwed, swept and

it all as a lAatter of
is minor aecomplish-
^agcs in the hunbcr
nd in the region, and
; down any game he

ass for the present,
rthy of all praise.

MinAMicm.

It wafl roniarkod, that the logcjcrj' wnn nitiiated on tlio
od^iMif II groM'. This grovo, when Micuh came, was ••!»
piece of wood.-*," of Hie densest and most tangled Bort,
By his strong arm, it had hecn transformed into a scene of
exfeediiig l)eauly. He had cut away tht; under gronth and
smaller trees, leaving the taller sons of the forest still rising
loftily and waving their liaimers toward heaven. I#lorme(l
a magnilicent natural tciuple, and as the etin fltruek in
thnuigh the long, hroiul aisles, soft and rich were the lights
and shadows that Hickered over the green lloor. The lofty
arches, formcil Ity the meeting and interlaced hranches
ahove, were often resonant with music. J)uring the sprin;^
and siunmer months, matin worship vva.s constantly [»er-
formiil l»y u midtltudinousi choir, and praisea were chanted
hy tiny-throated warhlers, raising their notes upon the deep,
organ J)ase, rolled into the harmony hy the grand ohl pineg.

It is true, that hardly a human soul worshipped here,
hut when the "Te Deum" rose toward heaven, thouHandn
of blue, pink, and white blossoms turned their eyes upward
wet with dewy nioisturc, the hoary mosses waved their
tresses, the larches shook their tjissels gayly, the birdies
quivered and thrilled with j;,/ in every leaf, and the rivuleta
gurgled forth u silvery sountl of gladness. On this partio
ular September morning IVIicah's g;rovc was radiant with
beauty. The wild equinoctial stonn, which had so fiercely
assailed it the day before, had brightened it into fresh ver,
dure and now it glittered in the sunbeams as if bei<_;^'^yQ|]j,j
with emerald.

ISIr. Norton and Adelo reached th.o cottafro door on
wliich sho tapped softly. 4

MIKAJIICni.

«'Comc in," Micah almost slicnitcd, without moving from
liid sent or looking up from hid occupsition.

The maiden opened the door, and said, "Good morning,

Micah."

At the sound of her voice he rose instantly and handing
a chair mto the middle of the floor, said, "O! come in,
Mis%A.dy ; I did n't know cz it was yeou."

«' I cannot stop now, ISIicah, but here is a gentleman who
has a Ihtle business with you. I came to show him the
way. This id iSIr. Norton."

And away Adele sped, without farther ceremony.
INIicah looked after her for a moment, with a half smile
on his weather-beaten face, then turned and motioning Mr.
Norton to a chair, reseated himself on a wooden chest, with
his gim, upon which he again commenced operations, his
countenance setting into its usual owl-like solemnity.

He was not courtly in his reception of strangers. Tlio
missionary, however, had dealt with several varieties uf
the human animal before, and was by no means distm-bcd
at this nonchalance.

" I believe you are from the States, as well as myself,
Mr. jSIummychog," said he, after a short silence.

<' I'm from the Kennebec River," said Micah, laconically.
<* I am quite extensively acquainted in that region, hut
do not remember to have heard your name before. It 'n
rather an uncommon one."

'^ " I guess ye won't find many folks in them parts, cz u
(.•illed Iti^'immychog," said INIicah, with a twinkle of the eye
and eometLiug Jii^Q a gr«i» o» l"'^ sombre visage.

ton,

wlic:

drop

the]
((

couli

want
hunt
there

skcei

fitilui]

sech,
(( '

<« ■

aU tl
(( ^

((•'

since
from
eposc

"]
vocati

He
table,
eaid,

thout moving from
, "Good morning,

MlRAMICni.

tantly and handing

aid, "O ! come in,

ou."

is a gentleman wlio

3 to show him the

!r ceremony.
t, with a half smilo
and motioning ^Ir.
wooden chest, with
iccd operations, liis
ke solemnity,
of strangers. Tlio
several varieties uf
no means distm'bcd

!, as well as myself,
rt sUencc.

1 Micah, laconically.

in that region, hut

name hcfoi'e. It 'n

in them parts, ez is
a twinkle of the eye

)re visage.

" You Vo a smig place hero, Mr. IMIcah," said ^tr. Nor-
ton, who, having found some difficulty in restraining a smile,
when repeating ]Mr. ^Mummyehog's surname, concluded to
drop it altogether, ' ' but wliat could have induced you tolcavo
the pleasant Kennebec and come to tlus tUstant spot ? "

" Well, I cam' to git ^ chance oad be somwhere, where I
could jest be let ahmc."

"A chance for what, Mr. Micah?"

" ^Yhy, hang it, a chance to live an' dew abcout what I
want tew. The moose an' wolves an' wildcats hcv all ben
hunted eout o' that keutrj;. Thar wa 'nt no kind ev a chance
there." So I cam' here.

" You have a wife, I suppose, IMr. IMicah?"

" Wife I no. Do ye spose I want to hev a woman kep'
steered a most to death abeout me, all the time ? I'm a
Mim' an' huntm good part o' the year. Wild beasts and
sech, is what I like."

'• Don't you feel lonely here, sometimes, IVIr SHcah?"

"LunsumI no. There's plenty o' fellers rcound here,
all the time. They 're a heowlin' set tew, cz ever / sec."

♦' You have a good gun there," suggested the missionary.

•' Well, tolable," said Micah, looking up for the first time
since air. Norton had entered the house, and scanning him
from head to foot with his keen, penetrating glance. "I
fpose you amt much used to firearms ? "

" I have some acquaintance with them ; but my present
vocation don't require their use."

Here Air. Mummychog rose, and laying his gun on the
tiible, scratched his head, turned toward Mr. Norton and
said, *« Hev yeou any pertikilar bueiness with mt)?**

BHRAancm.

» Yea sir, I have. I came to Miramicbi to ax-compH^li
an important object, and I don't know of another i>er.ou
who can help me about it so well as you can.'|
«« Well, I dunno. "Wliat upon arth is it ? "
" To be plain upon the point," said the missionary, look-
ing serious and earnest, " I have ^mc here to preach the:

cospcl of Christ." .

.'mewlrcligin.isit? Icantcllycrightofr,itsnoso

en tlicse ere parts."

"Don't you thinkaUttlc religion is needed here, Mr.

ISlicah?" - , 1. u

»OVell, I dunno. Taint 7mn/e3. Folks cz lives here,

can'f abide sermans and prayers en that doleful stuff."

"You say you came here for a chance, Mr. Micah. 1
suppose your friends came for the same puiTose. Now, I
have come to show them, not a cUnce, but a glorious cer-
tainty for happiness in this world and in the eternity

beyond."

"Well, they don't want tew know anjtliing abeoutit.

They just want tew be let alone," said :Mlcah.

"I suppose they do wish to be let idone," said Mr.
Norton. ' ' But I cannot permit them to go down to wretch-
edness and sorrow unwarned. You have influence with your
friends here, Islv. INIicali. If you will collect the men,
women, aad children of tliis neighborhood together, some
afternoon, m your beautiful grove, I will promise to give
them not a long sermon, but sometliing that will do thcni

good to hear."
" I can't dew it no heow. There 'b ben preachers along here

n
a
n

II
h
t(

n
II

ai
ir

ibi to accomplif'li
of another i^rsou
can."
it?"

• missionary, look-
icrc to preach the;

right off, its no go

needed here, ISlr.

'oiks cz lives here,
doleful stuff."
e, Mr. Micah. I
pui-pose. Now, I
but a glorious acr-
id in the eternity

anj'tliing abeoutit.
Micah.

it id one," said Mr.
<ro down to wretch-
: influence with your
ill collect the men,
lood together, sonic
rill promise to give
; that will do them

preachers along here

UTCAMICni.

nforc, an' a few 'ud go eout o' curiosity, an' some to make
a di.^turbance an' scch, an' it never 'meounts to anytliiu"-,
no lu'ow. Then sposin we haint dun jest as we 'd oughter,
who 'se gin ijcuu the right tew twit us on it ? "

"I certiihdy have no riglit, on my own responsibility, to
reproach you, or your friends for sin, for I am a smful man
myself and have daily need of repentance. But I tnist I
have found out a way of redemption from guilt, and I wish
to conununicatc it to my fellow-beings that they also may
luivo knowledge of it, and fly to Christ, thek only safety
and luqipincss in this world."

INIicah luado no reply.

Tiierc was a pause of several minutes, and then the mis-
sionary rose and said, "Well, ^Ir. Micah, if you can't help
me, you can't. The little maiden that came with me, told
nie you could render mc aid, if any one could, and from
what she said, I entertained a hope of your assistance.
The Lord will remove the obstacles to proclaiming tliis sal-
vatim in some way, I know."

"JMiss Ady didn't say I could help ye neow, did she?"
said Micah, scratching his head.

"Certainly. Why did she bring me here ?"

"Well, cf that aint tarnal queer," said Micali, falling
into a deep reverie.

In a few moments, Mr. Norton shook his new acquaint-
ance heartily by the hand and bade liira good morning.
AVas the good man discouraged in his efforts? By no

means.

He had placed in the mind of Micah Mummychog a
4*

MmAMicm.

small fnscc, so to spcalc, wliicli ho foresaw would fire a
wliolc train oCdiscardod ideas and cast-olF thoughts, and he
expected to hear from it.

lie filled up the day with a round of calls upon the va-
rious families of the ncighl)orhood, and came home to his
lodgings at Mr. Dubois's with his heart overwhelmed by
the ignorance and deliasement he had witnessed.

Yet Ills corn-age and hopes were strong.

•osaw would fire n.
itr thoughts, iuiil he

■ calls upon the va-
[ caiiic home to his
irt overwhohucd by
vitnesscJ.

CHAPTER V.

Bm8. L-iNSDOWNE.

P is a city by the sea. Built upon an elevated

peninsula, sun-oundod by a country of manifold resources
of beauty and fertility, Avith a fine, broad liarbor, it sits
quccnlike in conscious poAvcr, facing with serene aspect the
ever-restless Avavcs that wa.«h continually its feet. The
place might be palled ancient, if that term could properly
be applied to any of the works of man on New Ivug-.
land shores. There are parts of it, where the arcliitecture
of whole streets looks quauit and tune-worn ; here and
there a few antique churches appear, but modern struc-
tures predominate, and the place is full of vigorous life and
industry.

It wap sunset. The sky was suffused with the richest
cannine. The waters lay quivering beneath the palpitat-
ing, rosy light. The "spires and dome^ of the town
eauirht the ethereal hues and the emerald hills were bathed
in the glowing atmosj)herc.

In a large apartment, in the second story of a tall, brick
mansion on street, sat Mrs. Lansdowne. Suscepti-
ble though she was to the attractions of wk scene before

MiRAJncin.

her, tbcy did not now occupy licr attention. Ilcr brow
Wiis contracted with painful tliouglit, her lip quivered with
deep emotion. The greatest sorrow she had known Imd
fallen u[)on her tlu-ough the eiTor of one whom she fondly
loved.

Though enwrapped in a cloud of grief, one could sec
that she possessed beauty of a ricli and rare type. She
bad the delicate, aquiline nose, the dark, lustrous eyes and
Jiair, the finely arched eyebrows of the Hebrew woman.
But she was no Jewess.

ISlrs. Lansdownc could number in her ancestry luou
who had l)cen notal)le leaders in the lievohitionary v.ar
with England, and, later in our history, others, who were
remarkable for patriotism, nobility of character, intellectual
ability, and high moral and religious cidtiu'C.

Early in life, she had been united to ^^v. Lansdownc, a
gentleman moving in the same rank of society with her-
self, llis health obliged him to give up the professional Hfo
he anticipated, and lie had become a prosperous and enter-
prising merchant iu Ida native city. They had an only
child, a son eighteen years old, who in the progress of his
collegiate course had just entered the senior ycart

Edward Somcrs was jMrs. Lansdowne's only brother, her
mother haviifg died a week after liis Ijirth. She was eleven
years of age at the time, and from that early period had
watched over and kved liim tenderly. lie had grown up
handsome and accomplished, fascinating in manners and
most afFectionatc toward herself. She had learned that ho
bad been engaged m what appeared, upon the face of it, a

MrRAMicnt.

ntioii. ITor brow
r lip quivered with
ic luul known Imd
! whom she fondly

I'ief, ono could 8ce
1 rare type. She
, lustrou8 cyc8 and
! Hebrew woman.

her ancestry mou
Revolutionary war
, others, who were
araeter, intellectual
tiu-c.

Mr. Lansdo\\Tic, a
' society with her-
tlie i)rofestfional life
)8perou3 and enter-
Thcy had an only
the progress of liis
lior yeart

's only brother, her
1. She was eleven
it early period had
He had groAvu up
112 in manners and
had learned that ho
ion the face of it, a

dishonorable affair, audhcr sensitive nature had been greatly
shocked.

Two years before, IMr. Lansdowno had taken hiifl as a
junior partner in his business. lie had since been a mem-
ber of hid sister's family.

A young foreigner had come to reside in the city, profess-
ing himself a member of a noble Italian family. Giuseppe
liossiui was poet, orator, and musician. As poet and orator
he was pleasing and graceful ; as a musician he excelled,
lie was a brilliant and not obtrusive conversationalist. Ilis
enthusiastic expressions of admiration for oiu- free institu-
tions won him favor with all classes. In the fashionable
circle he soon became a pet.

jVIrs. Lansdowno had from the first distrusted him.
There was no tangible foundation for her suspicions, but
she had not been able to overcome a certain instmct that
warned her from liis presence. She watched, with mis-
givings of heart, her brother's growing familiarity with tho
Italian. * A facility of temper, his characteristic from boy-
hood, made her fear that he might not be able to withstand
the soft, insinuating voice that veils guilty designs by
winning sophistries and appeals to sympathy and friendship.
And so it proved.

One day, in extreme agitation, Rossini came to INIr.
Somers, requesting the loan of a considerable smn of
money, to meet demands made upon liim. Remittances
daily expected from Europe had failed to reach him. Mr.
Somers was unable to command so large a sum as he
required. His senior partner was absent from home. But

MIRAMICni.

the wily Rossini ho won upon 1.1s sympatlu^s, that ho went
to the private safe of hU brothci-in-law, and took from
thence the money necessary to free his fricml from embar-
rassment. He never saw the Italian iiD;ain.

When the treachery of which he hail been the victim
burst npon him, together with his own wcakiiO-s and suilt,
he was filled with shame and remorse. Mr. La.isdowno
was a man of stern integrity and uncompromising jn-sticc.
He dared not meet his eye on his return, and he dreaded
to comnmuicatc the unworthy transaction to liis sister, who
had so gently yet so faithfully warned him.

lie made desperate efforts to get traces of the villain
who had deceived him. Unsuccessfid — maddened whh
sorrow and shame, he wrote a brief note of farewell to Mrs.
Lansdowne, in which he confessed the wrong he had com-
■ mitted against her husband, which Mr. Lansdowne would
reveal to\er. He begged her to tliink as kindly of lum
as possible, averring that an hour before the deed was
done, he could not have bcUevcd lumsclf capable of it.
Tlicn he forsook the city.

When these occurrences were communicated to Mr.
LansdoAvnc, he was filled with suiTrisc and indignation,—
not at the pecuniary loss, which, with liis ample wealth,
was of little piomcnt to him, but on account of such impru-
dence and folly, where he least expected it.

A few hours, however, greatly modified his view of the
case. He had foimd, in the safe, a note from IMr. Somcrs,
stating the cii'cumstances under which he had taken tho
money and also the disappearance of Rossini. This, to-

Mnusnciii.

lies, that lio went
, and tvjok from
icucl from cjnbur-

bcon tbo victim
iakuo-8 and Ruilt,

Mr. Laiisdowno
promising justice.
, and he dreaded
to his sister, who
11.

cca of the villaiu
— maddened with
f farewell to Mrs.
rong he had com-
Lansdowne would

as kindly of liim
arc the deed was
elf capable of it.

lunlcatcd to Mr.
nd indignation, —
liis ample wealth,
unt of such inipru-
it.

led his view of tho
from ^Ir. Somcrs,
he had taken tho
Jossiui. This, to-

gotlicr with his wife's distress, softened his feelings to such
a degree that he consented to recall his brother and rein-
state liiui in Ills former place in business.

But whither had the fugitive gone? iMrs Lansdowno
found no clue to his intended destination.

During the morning of the day on which she is first in-
troduced to the attention of tho reader, she had visited liis
apartment to make a more thorough exploration. Look-
ing around the room, she saw lying in tlie fireplace a b!t
of paper, half buried in the ashes. She drew it out, and
after examining carefully found wTitten upon it a few
words tliat kindled a new liopo in her heart. Taking it to
her husband, a consultation was held upon its contents and
an expedition planned, of which an account will be given
in the next chapter.

She was now the prey of conflicting emotions. The ex-
pedition, which had that day been arranged, involved a
sacrifice of feeling on her part, greater she feared than tsho
would be able to make.

l>ut in order to recover her brctlicr to homo, honor, and
happiness, it seemed necessary to bo made. Voices from
the dead were pleading at her heart incessantly, urging
her, at whatever cost, to seek and save him, who, with
herself, constituted the only remnant of their family left on
earth. Her own aiFection f()r hun also pressed its elo-
quent suit, and at last the decision was confii'med. She
resolved to venture her son in the quest.

In the mean time, tho sunset hues had faded from the sky
and evening had approached. The golden full moon had

MIKAJIirilt.

risen nnd was n<.w Ml.lninf,' in at tlio !)r(in.l window, hrin^r.
in- into l.cautif.il ivlicf tiu^ .l<-li."itc tra.-cry on the lii-li
ooniircs liie ri.l. carvin--* .»f tl.r n.alM.-rany furnitnro, an.l
htrikinj,' ont u Hoft nlurn JVom Mr-. LansdowncV l.la.k
witin dres.H, aa hIio inovcil alowly to and fro, tiu-()iij,'li ti.c

Sho seated herself onrc more at tho window and pazid
upon the h.velv oH. ..f ni-ht. A i.orti..n of its serenity en-
tend and tran.,..ilii/.ed her nonl. The eh.nd of earc and
anxiety passcl IV.mu her brow, kuviug it smooth and pure
ud that of au unyel.

(II

ci
E

ad window, hrlnpj-
atTry on the lii,i;ii
rany t'uniituro, and
lian."<downt''rt black

I fro, through tlio

wnidow nnd pazid

II (if it!* Horonity cii-
(doiul of care and

it biuooth und imro

ClIAlTi:U VI.

•'JOILV, DEAU.

()\ tho t'Vfiiiiij; tliat ^hn. Lansddwnc was thus nrniplcd,
Jolm, hir son, wiio had Iktu out on the Itay all the al'tir-
n(»on, rushed past the dniwing-rooiu door, hounded up (ho
lung Htaireasc, entered hid room, situated on the satne Hoor,
not I'ar from hismotlier'n, and rang the hell violently.

In a fesv mimites, Aunt Esther, an ancient hlack woman,
who had long heen in the service of the family, made her
appearance at the door, and intpiired what "Massa John"
wanted.

" 1 want Bornc fire here. Aunt Esther. I've been out on
the hay, fishing. Our smack got run down, and I've had ii
ducking ; I feel decidedly chilly."

"Law sakcs I" said she, in great trepidation, "yer ortcr
get warm right away," and hastened down stairs.

A stout, hale man, socm entered the room, with a haskct
of wood and a pan of coals, followed inunediately by Aunt
Esther, who began to arrange them on the hearth.
, Aunt Esther's complexion was of a pure shining Ijfcick,
her features of the size und cut usually accom[)anyiug that
hue, und lighted up by a contented, sunshiny expression,

MIIIAMICIM.

wlil.h truly iiitlifiiti-d thv ixn-mal Htiito of her luiml. .V
hiilliiiut, yi'lliiw Uirhan *at well up')!! Iut wcKtlly lofks iiinl
II liliH' -1111(1 rt'tl <liiiil/ (Irc.-s Htripcd iui|i«ii(li.iilarly, soiiic-
what cliiiijiaU'd tlit; fll'o't »i' Iut .-tmit tliiiupy lij^urf. Slic
had taki'ii care tif .lolmdiirin;,' UU hahyliodd and oarly hoy-
houd, imd hi! iv muincd to this day her et^iteeial [>vt and i»ride.

•« Aunt Ksther," Buid tliiit y<»nnj,' nuin, throwuif,' himself
into an nisy-chair, nnd UHsuminjf as larkadnisical an ex-
pression as his IVaidv laid ruguldi I'aee w.aild allow, "1
have jnst lost a Iriend."

" Ver have?" said his old nurse, looking round con»i)!W-
sionatcly.

•'When did ycr lose him?"

»' Ahout an hour ago."

"What tlid he die of, Ma.-ta John?"

*'()f a i»ainfnl nervous di.sease," said ho.

"How old wan he?"

*' A few years younger than I am."

"Did he die hard?"

"Very hard, Aunt Esther," said John, looking solemn.

"Had yer known him long?"

"Yes, a long time."

Aunt Esther gave si deep sigh. "Docs yer know wcder
lie was pious?"

" Well, here he is. Perhaps you can tell by looking ai
'.lim," said he, handing her a tooth, he had just had ex-
traet^d, and bursting into a boyish laugh.

"01 yer go along, Massa John. I might hev knowed
it waa one of yer deceitful tricks," said Aunt Esther, trying

of lici' iii'mil. A
• WDidly lucks aiul
['luliciiliirly, Hoiiic-
inpy li^iire. Slic
ikmI imd I'lirly Itoy-
ic-ial pi't ami i»ruli'.
, tlii'owiiij^ liiuirtiU
•kadai.xical an fx-
wniiM allow, " I

ing ruuud compus-

lio.

n, looking solemn.

)0s ycr know wcdcr

1 tell by looking ut

I had just had ex-

li.

niij;ht hcv kiiuwed

Luut Esther, trying

MIUAMKill.

fo (V)nocftl her nmnsptnont, l)y putting on nn injnnHl h)ok.
"'I'lurc, till! (Iro bnrnH now. YiT jcnt put on tlu-ni dry
rluthis an (piiik um over ycr can, or niohhy yi> '11 Iomc another
(Viend hef'ore long."

•* It Hhall l)<! <lonc as you Hfiy, beloved Annt Ksther,"
t<aid he, rising and bowing profoundly, a.■^^he left the room.

! Living obeyed the worthy woman's injunction, ho drew
t\w ea.xy-ehair to the fire, leaned hi^ head baek and spent
the next half hour hovering between conseiousness and
dreamland.

From thin state, ho was roused by a geiule t.ip on his
door, fidlowed by his mother's voiee, saying, ".folm, dear?''

dolin ro.-e in>'.iiuly, threw the door wide open and
ushered in the ladv, saying, '« Come in, little (piccn mother,
come in," and bowing over her hand with u pomimus, yet
eom'tly gi'aec.

!Mrs. Lansdowne, wlien seen a short time slnoo. v.-.ilkinf
in her solitude, seemed cpiite lofty in stature, but now,
standing for a moment beside the regal height of her son,
one e(mld fnlly justify him in bestowing nnun her the title
V ith V. bich ho had greeted her.

Jolui Lansd()\viie was fast developing, physically as well
as mi'ntaily into a noble manhood, and it was no wonder
that his mother's heart swelled wilb prido and joy wlien -ho
looked upon him. Straight, muscular, and vigorous in
form, his features and cxi)ression were precisely her own,
enlarged and intensified. Open and generous in disposition,
his character had a certain quality of firmness, quite in
contrast with that of his wv ' Edward, and this she had

MIUA^IICIII.

carefully sought to strengthen. In the pursuit of his
Btudies, he had thus far been earnest and successful.

During the last half year, however, he had chafed under
the confinements of student life, and having now become
quite restive in the harness, he had asked liis father for a
few montlis of freedom from books. He wished to explore
a wilderness, to go on a foreign A-oyage, to Avander away,
away, anywherfe })cyond the sight of college walls.

"John," said Mrs. Lansdowne, "I have been con-
versing with your father on the subject, and he has con-
sented to an expedition for you."

" O ! gloriotis ! mother where am I to go? to the Bar-
can desert, or to the Arctic Ocean ? "

" You arc to make a journey to the IMiramichi Elver?"
" ]\Iiramichi ! " said John, after a brief pause, "I
thought I had a slight acquaintance Avith geography, but
where In the wide world is JNIiramichi ? "

'<It is in the province of New Brunswick. You will
have seventy-five miles of almost unl>roken wilderness
to pass through."

"Seventy-five miles of wilderness ! magnificent ! where s
my rifle, mother? I haven't seen it for. an age."

" Don't be so nnpetuous, John. T'ds journey through
the wilderness will be anything but magnificent. You will
meet many dangers by the way and w ill encounter many
hardships."

" But, mother, what care I for the perils of the way.
Look at that powerful member," stretching out bis large,
muscular ami.

MlKAMICiri.

3 pursuit of his
successful.
Iiad chafed under
linuj now become
d liis father for ;i
wished to explore
to wander away,

ge Avails.

have been con-
and he lias con-

5X0? to the Bar-

[iramichi Elver ? "
brief pause, "I
h geography, but

swick. You will
n'okcn wilderness

ffnificent ! where s
n age."

LS journey through
lificent. You will
11 encounter many

perils of the way.
dugout his large,

"Don't trust too much in that, Jolm. Your strong
arm is a good weapon, but you may meet sometliing yet
that is more tlian a matdi for it."

"■Possibly," said John, with a sceptical au-, "but when
am I to start, mother?"
. "To-morrow."

' ' To-morrow ! tliat is fine. AYell ! I must bestir myself,"
said lie, rising.

' ' Xot to-night, my dear. Yi ai 've notliing to do at pres-
ent. Arrangements are made. Be quiet, Jolm. Wo
may not sit thus together again for a long while."

"True, mother," said lie, reseating himself. "But how
<lid you happen to think of Miramichi?" he asked, after
a pause.

"Tliat is what I must explain to you. Yom- uncle Ed-
ward has committed an act of imprudence which he fancies
your father will not forgive him. He has left us without
giving any information of his destination. We hope you
Mill find him in New Brunswick, and this is your errand.
You must seek him and brinif him back to us."

John had been absent at tlie time of ]Mr. S<jmcrs's depar-
ture, and, A\ithout making definite inquiries, supposed him
to be away on ordinary business.

After his first surprise at his mother's announcement, he
was quite silent for a few moments.

Then he s;.''d, firmly, " If he is there, I Avill find him."

INIrs. Lansdowne did not explain to lum the nature of her
brother's offence, but simply communicated her earnest de-
sire for his retm-n. Then going together to the library they

MlIlAMICin.

consulted the mnp of Miiino and New Bninswi'-k. ^Ir.
Liuisdowne joined thoni, — the nmte was fully discussed,
and John retired to dream of the delights of a life untram-
melled by college, or city walls.

P)nins5\vi('k. INIr.
IS fully di!<cus.sed,
5 of a life imtrain-

CIIAPTEPv VII.

A JOUliXFA' TIIIJOUOII TIIK AVILOEUNESS.

Two (lays after the arrival of Mr. Norton at the Dul)i>is
ILiiiso, on the banks of the ^.liraniichi, Jolin Lansilowne,
(111 a l)rilliant Septeniljcr morning, started on his meiuor-
al)le jonrncy to that region.

He was np betimes, and made his appearance at the
stables just as James, the stout little eoaelnnan, was com-
pleting Cicsar's elaborate toilet.

Caesar was a noble-looking, black animal, whose strength
and capacity for endurance had been avcU tested. This
morning he was in high spirits and looked good for months
of rough-and-tumble sei'vice.

" Here's yer riile, ^Mister John. I put it in trim for yo
yesterday. I s'posc ye '11 be a s(iuintin' reound sharj) lor
bears and wolves and other livin' wild beasts when ye git
inter the wooc^i."

' "Certainly, James. I expect to set the savage old mon-
sters scattering in every direction."

" "Well, but lookeout, ^Mister John and keep number one
cout o' lire and water and sech."

"Trust nic for doing that, James."

MIU.VHIICIII.

After many aiToctiontitc counPcls and adieus from his par-
ents, John, mounted en the {ralh.nt CWr, >vith his ,il!e
and portmanteau, posted on at a rapid rate, soon leavmy

the eity fiir l)ehind.

The position of one who sits eonfidcntly upon the back
of a brave and spirited horse, is surely enviaWe. The mas-
tery of a creature of such strcngtli and capacity— wlios)
neck is ch)tlied with thunder — the gh.ry of whose nostrils
is terril)h>, gives to the rider a sense of freedom and power
not often feh- amidst the eommou conditions of life. No
wonder that the Be.louin of the desert cral'ty, cringing,
abject in cities, when he mounts his Arab steed and is olf
to the burning sands, becomes dignified and courteous.
Liberty and power arc his. They elevate him for the tunc
in the scale of existence.

John was a superb rider. From his fi. ^ ^-td, he had sat
on horseback, firm and kingly.

He and Ciesar apparently indulged in common emotions
on Uxis morning of their departure fn.m home. They did
not it is true "smell die battle afar otV, the thunder of the
captains and the shouting," but they smelt the wilderness, the
wild, the fresh, the free, and they said ha ! ha ! And so
they sped on their long journey.

The young man made a partial acquaintance with lum-
bering operations at Bangor; had his sublimQ ideas of the
nobility of the aborigines of the country somewhat discom-
posed by the experience of a day spent in the Indian settle-
ment atOldtown ; found a decent shelter at Mattawamkeag
Point, and, at last, with an exidtant bound of heart, struck
into the forest.

c
e
t

(1
II
ll
c

e
a

w
Ic
tv

:ii

li
w

MIIJAMirill.

icus from his par-
sir, V ith Ills riile
rate, aoon leaving

tly upon the hack
viable. Tho mas-
l capacity — whuso
T of whose nostrils
Tocdom ami power
tions of life. No
, crafty, cringing,
•ab .stcetl and is olf
led and courteout*.
tc liim for the time

fii <^<^-'al,hchad.sit

. common emotions
u home. They did
, the thunder of the
It the wilderness, the
\ ha ! ha ! And so

Liaintancc with luni-
sublimQ ideas of the
Y somewhat disconi-
m the Indian settlc-
er at Mattawamkeag
lund of heart, struck

The only road through this solitary domain was the rou^h
path made by luLJiennen, in hauling supplies to the various
canipsi, scattered at intervals tin-ough the dense wilderness,
extending seventy-five miles, from .Mattawamkeag Point to
(lie r>'.ilish boinxlary.

Here Xatm-e was found in magnificent wildncss and
(lis;in-ay, her hair quite unkempt. Great pines, shooting
np innncnse distances in the sky skirted the path and fhui"-
their green-gray, trailing mosses abroad on the breeze;
crowds of fir, spruce, hendgek, and cedar trees stood
waving aloft their rich, dark banners; clusters of tall,
white birches, scattered here and tliere, relieved and bright-
ened the sombre evergreen depths, and the maple with its
atlluent foliage crowned each swell of the densely covered
land. Here and there, a scarlet tree or bush shot out its
sanguine hue, betokening the maturity of the season and
the near approach of autunm's latest splendor. Big bould-
ers of granite, overlaid with lichens, were profusely oiiia-
nionted with crimson creepers. Everything ai)pcared in
s|ilendid antl wasteful confusion. There were hu<'-e trees
with branches partially torn away; others, with split trunks
leaning in slow death against their fellows ; others, pros-
trate on the ground ; and around and among all, grew brakes
and ferns and parasitic vines ; and nodded purple, red, and
gold'.'ti berries.

The brown squirrels ran up and down the trees and
over the tangled rubbish, chirping merrily; a few late
lingering birds sang little jerky notes of nuisic, and the
woodpecker made loud tapping sounds which echoed like

MiRAMicnr.

the strokes of the woodman's axo. The air was rich an.l
bivlmy, — ppiccd with cedar, pmc, and hcuiluck, and a thou-
sand uukno^vn odors.

The path through this wihl of forest was rude and difVi-
cuh, but the travellers held on tli. ' ■ way nnflinchin-ily,—
the horse with unfalteruig courage and patience, and his
rider with unocashig wonder and delight.

At noon they came to a halt, just where the sun looked
down golden and cheery on a little dancing rivulet that
babbled by the wayside. .Here G-sar received liia oats,
for which his master had made room in his portmanteau,
at the expense, somewhat, of his own convenience. The
young man pai-t(H)k of a hearty lunch and resigned liimself
to dreams of lif'J under the greenwood tree.

After an hour's rest, again in the saddle and on — on,
through recurring scenes of wildness, waste, and beauty.
Just Ts the stai's began to glint forth and the traveller and
horse felt willing perhaps to confess to a little weariness,
they saw the light of the expected cabin fire in the distance.
Caesar gave a low whinny of approval and Imsteaaed on.
Two m- three red-shirted, long-bearded men gave them
a rude welcome. They blanketed and fed Cicsar, and pick-
eted him under a low shed built of logs.

John, as hungry as a famished bear, ikank a deep draught
of a black concoction called tea, which his friends heic
presented to him, ate a powerful piece of dark bread, inter-
larded with fried pork, drew up with the others around the
fire, and, in reply to their curious qixestionings, gave thcui
the latest news from the outside world.

au'
iui

eai

itiu

fiil

get

>pt

bee

ma
liin
wai

r
J

thn
call
cicv

lilln
fl'Ol

oft

son:
cull
I0..J.
a ci
hint

MJIUMICIII.

ic air was rich and
unlock, and atliou-

ivas rude and difli-
ay iinflincliinji'ly, —

I pationoc, and hi-*

L •

icrc the snn looked

ancing rivulet that

received hia oats,

II \m portmanteau,
convenience. The
nd resigned liiuiself
tree.

addle and on — on,
waste, and beauty
nd the traveller and
to a little Avearinc'^s,
1 fire in the dif^tance.
id and hasteaed on.
•ded men gave them
fed Cicsar, and pick-
is.

tlrank a deep drauglit
licli his friends hero
of dark bread, inter-
:he others around the
!titioninga, gave them

For this information ho was rewarded by the strange
and stirrijig adventures of wilderne=is life they related dur-
iiii,' tlie quickly Hitting evening hours.

They told of the scores \vho went into the forest in tho
ciuly part of whiter, not to return until late in the snrin"- :
of snow-storms and [lacks of wolves; of herds of deer and
moose; they related thrilUng stories of men crushed by
Hilling trees, or jammed between logs in the streams, to-
gether with incidents of the long winter evenings, usually
.•<pent by them in >tory telhng and card playing. Thus ho
became acquaimed with the routhie of camp life.

AVearied at last with the unaccustomed fatigues of the
day, he wrapped himself in his cloak, placed his port-
manteau under his head for a pillow and floated off to dream-
land, under the impression that this gypsying sort of life,
was just the one of all others he should most like to live.

The folloving morning, the path of our traveller struck
tlirough a broad reach of the melancholy, weird desolation,
called a burnt district. He rode out, suddenly, from the
dewy greenness and balm-breathing atmosi)here of the un-
lillghted forest, into sunshine that poured down in torrents
from the sky, falling on charred, shining shafts and stumps
of trees, and a brilliant carpet of fircweed.

Tt is nearly impossible to give one who has not seen
something of the kind, an adequate impression of the pe-
culiar appearance of such a region. The strange, grotesque-
looking stems, of every imaginable shape, left standing like
a company of black dwarfs and giants scattered over the
liind, some of them surmounted with ebony crowns ; some,

MIUAMICIII.

vith lioiul.-* covcml liki- dldiu warriors witli jetty licliiu'ts ;
Puim- Nvith brawny, lon.i;' avm.^ strctclu'd over ihv. pathway
a.-^ if to seize the pa.ssi-r hy, and all with iWl phuitnl,
bi'fiuiiudy in deep and ilaniiuLi; luv. How (itiiekly natm-o.
goes al'.iit repairing her des.dations ! So ^jreat in this
case is her liaste to euver up the hlaek, unseemly surface of
the earth, that, from the strange reseniWanee of the wivd
with whieli she clothes it t.) the fiery elements, it would I
seem as if she had not yet been al>le to thrust the racing
•duw out ol' her fancy, and so its tyi.e had crept again over

the l)Iighted spot.

John rode on over the glowing ground, the l)laek mon-
sters grimacing and scsowling at him as he passed. A\ hat
a nice eeiie place this would he thought he for witches,
wizards, and all Satan's gentry, of every shape and hue, to
liold their high revels in. And he actually began to shout
the witches song —

" Black spirits .mil wliitc,
Kud si)irlts and t?''^)'-"

At which adjuration, Ca-sar, doubtless knowing who
were called upon, pricked up his ears and started on a full
run, probably not wishing to find himself in sucli company
just at that time.

An establishment similar to the one that had sheltered
him the night previous, proil'ered its entertainment at the
close of our adveuLarei's second day. The third day in
the wilderness was signalized by an incident, which excited
such triumphant emotions as to cause it to be long rcinem-

be
ail
he
pa
ac
d(
<K
(h

til

^1
tl

y
d
tl
I
tl

MIUAMICHI.

V it 1 1 jetty heliiuts ;

over the piitliwiiy
with iW't plautnl,
()\v ([iiiokly iiutiiri!

Si) ;j;r(Mt in this
nsecmly surlUci' o\
hhinec i)t' tlie weed
[)lonu'nt.-<, it wniilil < i

thrust the Viigiii,:^'
iid crc'i)t again ov ci'

1(1, the hhu'k mnii-
hc [)as?ic(l. "What
N-ht he i'oi- witches,
y .shape and hue, to
lally Ijegan to .shout

tlesrt knowing who
iiul .started on a full
jU" iu .sueli company

! that had .sheltered
;ntertainnient at the
The third day in
•ident, which excited
t to be long rciuem-

li( red. Ahiiut an Iioui" suh enuent to his noon halt, a.s lie
ami Cx'.sar >vere procei'ding along at a moderate [taee, lie
heard a ni.stling, eniekling noise on the right si<le uf the
path and .suddenly a deer, Irightened and jianting, (lew
aero.s.s the road, turned for a moment an almost human,
despairing look toward him, plunged into the tangled un-
dcr-growtli on tiie left and wast gone from .sight. John
drew his reins iii.>tantly, hringing hi.s lior.se to a dead stand,
IjMisened his rille from his .shoulder and after examining it
clo.-^ely, remained (piiet. Ili.s patience was not taxed hy
long waiting. 'Within the space of two minutes, there waa
another .sharp crunching and eracklingof dry boughs, when
a wolf, large, gray, and fierce, .spnmg into the path from
the .same opening, following on the trail of the deer. lie
had nearly ert).sscd the narrow road in hot pur.suit and wan
nliont springing into the thicket beyond, when an aeciden-
till turn of liid head brought our hero suddenly to his attcn ■
tiun. He stopped, as if struck by a spell of enchantment.

"Whiz ! the ball flew. The very instant it struck, the
bloodthirsty monster fell dead. When John reached the
spot, there was scarcely the (jnivcr of a limb, so well had
the work of death been accomplished. Yet the wolfish face
grinned still a savage, horrible defiance.

" Here, Ctcsar," he exclaimed, in a boastful tone, "do
you know that this old fellow lying here, won't get the
drink out of the veins of that dainty creature he Avas so
thirsty for? No! nor ever cheat any sweet little lied
Ividiiig Hood into thinking hini her grandmother? This is
the last of him. Did u't I do the neat tiling, Caesar? "

MIUAMinil.

Cif«nr tlirow liln licml on "lu- side, with im iiir oi' iidiiii-
ratitin and },'!ive a low wliiiiny, tliat lictokoiuMl a ^tatc <it'
iiitfiisc .satisliu'llon ;it the w'lole transaction.

It may apixMi" frivolous to thoM: who liavo road with
iinwavorin^f crcihility th(! ohh'ti taU-( of tiic prowi-.-M jiud
achiijvcinpnts ol" kni;;htrt errant in the days ol" ehivah'y,
tliat on( shouhl stop to relate Kiieh a eoniiuonphiee in<i-
dent ns the shootin;;' of a wolf, and aliovo all, that thi'
hero of tiiis narrative, should hetray, even to his hor.-ki,
snch a decideil emotion of self admiration for having' iier-
formed the feat. Sueli a trille would not indeed he worth
nionti(minj; in company with the marvellous deeds and
rnysterioua soreericH of the old roniaunt, but this beinj,' a
true story, the hero young, and this the lirst frame of the
kinil ho lias yet hroii^ht down, it must he excused.

After a critical examination of his victim, (Uir traveller
mounted his horse and proceeded on his journey, much
gratified at his afternoon's work, and inwardly resolving how
he would make the eyes of James and Aunt Esther stand
out, while listening to the account of it he should give thcni,
on his return home.

In about seventeen days after hia departure from P.,
John safely accomplished his journey. Amidst the subso-
(pient hardshi[)S, rough fare and toils of that journey,
which, in truth, thirty-five years ago, wee things not to he
laughed at, he had a constant satisfaction in the recollection
of having, with one keen shot, killed a large, fierce, gray
wolf.

>i.i

lie

liu^
I

the
woi
licr

lien

Pat
"cn

,itli nn uir i>f lulini-
(■ti)kciu<l a Htiito (if

tioll.

Ill) have road willi
if tiic pri)\vi',>«M ami
J (lays of cliivnlry,

coniinonphK.'L' iixi-
aljovc all, that tlic j
even to his hor.-ki,
ion for having licr-
lot indeed he worth
n'vellous deeds and
nt, but this bein^ a
he first j^'anie of the
be excused,
lictini, (air traveller

his journey, nuuh
•ardly resolving how

Aunt Esther stand I
lie shoiUd give thciii,

depai'ture from P.,
Amidst the subso-
s of that journey,
re.e things not to be
m in the recollection
a large, fierce, gray

CILVITIOIt VIII.

A FUNEU/VL.

Trii; day following the .'nl! mtuh; by :\rr. Norton on
Mil-ill Miininiyehog, fho last-named peivonagi! eainc to
Air. Dubois's h(mse and Adele happening to open the out-
^i.I<! door, just as he hove in >iglit, ho called out, " ^fisa
Ady, do yu know where that individooal that yc brought
til my hcouse yi>terday, is? "

" I'ou mean the missi(miry?"said Adele.

" Well, yis, 1 spose so; where is he?"

"lie is engaged with a sick gentleman wc have here,
lie has taken the [ilace of Aunt Patty, who is tired out and
liiis gone to rest."

" Well, that piece of flesh, what's called IMcXab, has
the greatest fakkilty of -ittin' tired cout when there 's any
work reound, that ever I see. Any lieow, she 's got to stir
licrsidf this tune. But I want to see the minister,
noow."

" Yes, I will ppeak to him. But I shall not call Aunt
Pnlty. She is tired mw. I can take care of the sick
•gentleman. But what has happened, MIcah?"

" Well, there's goin' to be a funeral. I can't jestly tell

MinAMtnii.

yc .ihonut it noow. Yo ran ax ycr ^ir, when ho ronics i..."
miia Mi'-uh, ri'liirtant to i,'o into imrticulurs which ho knew
would nhofk Atli-lc.

-Will, ("i.i.tin," ^al.I Mi<'ah, wlu-u Mv. Norton iu^mIo
hi.. ai.iR'Ui.in.-o at the door, honV a ir-"lar wiiid-lhll for y.-.
Hero's an Irishman over horo, an is <K'a<l as a door nail.
Hc'.s fioin" to ho huriod to-ni-ht, 'hoout ^nnsot, an.l I dun
no hut" what 1 can git a chanoo lor yo to liold fbrtii a spoil
iu tlu> ^n-ovo, jest atoro tjwy put him anchor {^roound."

••Dciidl the poor man dead 1 indood ! " oxoUiiiucd Mr.

Norton.

" Yis. IIo was phot ri-,dit throu,'j;h his hoart, and I
liopo I Hwinj,'in ' cmi 'Ul coino on him that put the ball
thrcouph, tow."

"Why, how was it, :Mr. Mlcah?" Kild Mr. Norton

earnostlv.

•' Woll, ycou jest toll ir.c fust wothor yoou'll say prayor.s
or sonicthin' or 'nothor ovor tho poor ohap's rooUks."

♦'Cortainly, 1 will, Mr. Mi<'ah."

"Woll, yc HOC, rapMoCiiath lived hack here, half a
mile or 80, an' lie's <^nt lots o' cousins an' friends 'at live
nil along on this 'ore river, more or loss, till yc git to
Chavtham, tli(it\i nitooatod to the mouth. Well, these fil-
lers haa hoon in thehahit o'gittin' to-other and n;oin'deown
river and hirin' once in a spell, some sprt of old, cranky
craft and goin' skylarkinir roound to Eastport and Pcjrtland.^
Artcr a while they 'd cum back and snuiggle in a cargo o
soinethin' or 'nothcr from the States, and sheirk the dootics.
Well, 'bcout a week ago, there was a cimfoundcd old crit-

oil
fol
an
Imi

an
In
an
al

UI1
li.v

ai
>•£

T
re
I

i^'

Min.vMinn.

ivlicn ho roiiicH in,"
law which hi; knew

Mr. Xi)rtnn lui'.ili!
iiir wliid-liill tor yi-.
,';\(1 11!^ ii <h>(>r Hiiil.

siiiisrt, iinti I <luii
II hi lid I'ortii a xpill i
iiliu" j^rpouiul."
1 1 " exchiimcd ^Ir.

I his heart, and I
a that put the ball

" i^aid ^Ir. Norton

' ypou'll saypraycrrf,
hnp'.i rcclik;*."

d back here, half a
s an' Irionda 'lit live
r less, till yc git to
I,. Well, these fil-
■thor and poin' deown
! sprt of old, cranky
istport and Portland,
nnuggle in a cargo o
nd wheirk the dootics.
I confounded old cril-

tur 'ut live-" half way fnmi here to Chnrtham, that informed
on' em. So tlu-y jes' eolltrtfd togetlier — 'heout twenty
fellers — and mohhed him. And the old eu."<."< lired into 'em
and killed this 'ere man. So neow they've hronght hid
hnily hum, and his wife'-s a poor shiftless thing, and she'a
lieen a hoUerin' and screeehin' ever seuco whe heerd of it."

" Poor woman ! " said Mr. Norton, greatly shocked.

"Well, I nii-lit as well tell yer the whole on 't," said
Micah, scratching his head. " Ver see, he was oi e o' these
Catholics, this Pat was, and tl • fellers went to the priest
(he lives deown river, little heiier'n ten mile from here) in
course to git him to dew what's to be done to the funeral,
and the tarnal old heatlu-n woiih^ n't dew it. Ho sed Pat
had gone agin the law o' the kentry, and lie would / 1 hev
anything to do * beout it. So the fellers brough'^t; r body
along, and I swear, Pat Mc(j rath shall hev a decent funeral,
any way."

" Where is the fimcral to be?" asked Mr. Norton, after
listening attentively to the accimnt iNIicah had given him.

" () 1 deown here 'n the grove. The body 's to my heousc,
and Maggie his wife's there a ecreechin'. Tlie grave-
yard's close here, and so they did n't carry him hum."

I'll, go down and sec this poor Maggie," said Mr. Norton.

• ' Don't, for the Lord's sake. I'm ecnermost crazy neow.
The heouse is jammed full o' folks, and there ain't nothin,
ready. You jes' wait here, till I git things in shape and
I '11 cum artcr yc." ,

Micah then departed f". ca ,iplete his arrangements, and
Mr. Norton returned to his post, in the sick-room.
6*

1^^

MIUAMICin.

It was noavly five o'clock in the afternoon, before a
me.^.^cnger came to inform him that the hour of burial had

arrived.

A p^-nnge scene presented it.-elf to his view, as ho ap-
proached the grove. A motley company, composed of the
settlers of every grade and condition for miles uround, hr.d
collected there. i\Ien, women, and children in various
costume— the scarlet and crimson shirt, or tunic, carryin;,^ it
high, above all other fashions — were standing, or walking
among the trees, conversing upon the event that had
brought them together.

As the missionary approached, the loud indignant voices
subsided hito a low murmur, and the peoi)le made way for
him to reach the centre of the grou[».

Here he found the coffin, placed upon a pile of boards,
entirely uncovered to the light of day and to the inspection
of the people, who had, each in turn, gazed with curious
eyes npon the lifeless clay it enclosed.

In the absence of :Mrs. :McXab, who was still sleeping
away the cfFects of her late fatigues at the house of ^Ir. Du-
bois, the women of the neighlxn-liood had arrayed Patrick
McGrath, very properly, in a clean shirt of his accustomed
Avearing apparel, so arranging it that the folda of the red
tunic could be lifted in order to expose to those who came
to look upon him the wound he had j.:eceivcd. There he
lay, the iiide smuggler, turned gently upon his side, one
cheek pressing the pillow. Death had effaced from his
countenance every trace of the stormy passions which
raffed in his breast when the fatal bullet struck hun, and
had scaled it with even a pleasant serenity.

MIUAMICIII.

'tornoon, befdvc a
liuLii" of buriiil had

! view, as he ap-
,-, composed of the
miles around, had
hll(h'ea in various
or tunic,carrvin!,'it
ui(hng, or walking
lie event that hail

id indignant voices
I'ojjle made Avay for

)n a pile of boards,
nd to the inspection
ffazcd M'ith curious

o was still sleeping
le house of ^Ir. I)u-
liad arrayed Patrick
rt of his accustomed
:he folda of the red

to those who came
received. There ho

upon his side, one
vd cftaccd from his
ny passions which
Uct struck him, and
lity.

Not so with ihc compeers of his race, who encircled the
cofHn. Tlinj scowled a fierce fury from beneath tlunr
])ii>hy brows and nnittered vows of ven<;cancc. The rays
of the sun, now ra^jidly declining, shot into their angry
liices, the evening breeze shook out their matted locks of
liiiir. A peculiar glow was cast over their wild, Erin
features, now gleaming with unholy passion.

]Mr. Norton bent for a fe'\' minutes over the coffin, while
an expression of son-ow and deep commiseration overspread
liis countenance. Then he stepped upon a slight knoll of
.rriiuiid near bv, raised lumself to his full height and
began to speak in a voice that rose above the crowd, clear,
iaeh)di(ms, fidl and penetrating as the notes of a bugle.
Jt tiu-ilh;d on every ear and di-ew instant attention.

"Friends, brethren, fcUow-sinners, one of our number
has been suddenly struck down by the relentless hand of
death, and wo are here to pay the hist honors to his mortal
remains, — each and all to learn a solemn lesson while
standing at the mouth of the grave. Ih-ethrcn, we are to
learn anew from this occasion that death often comes to man
with the suddenness of the lightning flash. One moment
before your comrade was struck by the fatal bullet, his eye
"•lowed as keenly and his right arm was as powerful as
yours. Tlie next moment he was prostrate on the ground,
with no power to move a single limb of his body, or utter
a single sigh, or breathe a single prayer. He was dead.

" I am ignorant whether he was prepared to make such a
sudden transit from this world to that scene of judgment to
wliich he has been summoned. You know, who were hia

MIKAMlOm.

fru-nds and comrades, what hh former course has been,
and whether he was prepared to meet the Judge of all the
eartli. I know nothing of all this, but I fervently hope
tliat at the last erring, awful moment, when he had just
eonujiitted an act of transgression against the laws of his
country, he had in his heart, and did, offer up this prayer,
' God be mereifid to me, a sinner.' We nuist leave him in
tlie hands of tiie Almighty, who is both merciful and just.
A\'e cannot change his lot, but we have it in our power to
profit by the circumstances of his death. Beholding how
Buddcnly he has been cut off, in the prime and strength of
his days, we may learn that we too may be called at some
imcxncctcd moment, and tluit it behooves us to be found
ever in the right path, so living, so acting, that wc shall be
ready, wlicn death comes, to meet our Judge without fear
and with the assurance that when we depart this life, through
the righteousness of Christ, we shall be introduced into a
better and nobler country. I beg of you earnestly, my
dear brethren, in order to secure this happy result, to turn
imr>v.ti.itely from your sins, repenting of them without
delay, ind a]iply to Clu-ist whose blood can alone wash
them away. Take the Bible, this precious gift from Heav-
en, for your counsellor and guide, follow its instructions,
and you will be safe and happy, whether in life or in death.
" My bretlu-en, I will say but one word more ; that word
I earnestly implore you to listen tcf. This book from God
says, vengeance is mine ; I will repay. I fear it is in your
hearts to seek revenge upon him who is the author of your
comrade's death. I beseech you not to do it. God knowa

If-

MIUAIMICTII.

course has been,
Judge of ill! the
I fervently hope
,vhen he had jiu<t
t the kwrf (if hirt
;r up this prayer,
must leave him in
merciful and junt.
t in our power to
Beholding how
e and strength of
be called at some
'CH us to be found
■r, that we shall be
Fudge without fear
t this life, through
: introduced into a
you earnestly, my
ppy result, to turn
of them without
d can alone wash
lus gift from Ilcav-
w its instructions,
in life or in death,
d more ; that word
lis book from God
I fear it is in your
the author of your
do it. God knows

wlioro the wrong is, in tliis case, and Tie, the great A\ (Miger,
will iM)t suiler it to go unpuuisluMl. Sooner or later He
liriims every wicked and wrong-doer to a just rewind. Leave
:ill ill His righteous hands, and stain not your souls with
M,,o(l and vioUiice. Let lis seek the divine blessuig."

Mr. Norton then ollereil a short and siiii[>lc prayer, im-
ploring the forgiveness of sins, and blessings upon Patrick's
wile, his companions, and the conununity.

Maggie, who had wailed herself into perfect exhaustion ^
and almost stupor, sat gazing fixeilly in his face ; the rest
seemed hushed as by a spell, and did not begin to move
until some moments after his voice ceased.

Tlien the tongues were loosened, and amid the ebbs and
flows of murmuring sound, the coffin was covered, placed
up<.n a bier and borne to the grave, followed by the

crowd.

"And shure," said a p<}or Irishwoman to her crony, as
they trudged along behind, "the praste's voice sounded all
the while like a great blessed angel, a blowin' through a
silver trumpet. Shure, he's a saint, he is."

■r

CILVrTER IX.

ADtLR DUBOIS.

The Dubois famil}-, tlioiig'i widely sc2iaratc(l hy social
rank and worldly possossiijus from tlic po2)idati(iii around
flicni, had yot, to a certain degree, mingled freely with the
})cople. Originating in France, they possessed the pecul-
iar nationtd faculty of readily adapting themselves to the
mannoi's and customs of races foreiijn to their own.

It is impossible to forget in the early history of the Xorth
American colonies, what facility the French displayed, in
contrast with the English, in attaining communication with
the children of the forest, in acrjuiring and retaining their
confidence, in taking on their rude and uncultivated modes
of life, and in shaping even their superstitions to their own
selfish purposes.

Of all the foreigners who have attempted to dcm^instrate
to the world, the social and political problems of America,
who has investigated with such insight, and d s doped so
truly our manners and customs and the spirit and genius of
our government as Tocquevillc ?

Mv. Dubois, though possessing aconscrvavu-e power .htit
prevented him from desceniling to the low type of character

:i
(>
ii
tl
h

S(
01

ir
(I
m

li(
hi

1"
III

ill

111

1»

pn
or
pii
er

TVI

MIUAMIC'III.

:>p:iratc(l by fcocial
)opuliiti(iii around
ctl fVocly with (he
iscssod the pecul-
themselvos to the
their own.
itory of the Xortli
'uch displayed, in
niinunicatiori with
md retaining their
ncultivatcd modes
Itions to their own

ted to demonstrate

licms of America,

and d ■* oh>ped so

lirit and genius of

rvavu'C power Tliat
' tyjic of character

Miiil the lax priiicipkvs of the coiiiifry, yet never made any
i-dicr than the most (piiet assertion of siip-riui-jty. It was
iiiipossihle inde(Ml for iiim to hohl business connections with
file rough setth'rs without mingling freely witli them. * Uiit
he never assmned the air of a master. lie frequently en-
gaged with them in hold, adventurous exploits, the aeconi-
l)lishment of which did not involve an infringement of law ;
sometimes he put hand and sho.ildcr to the hard labors they
endured, and he was ever ready with his sympathy and aid
in redressing their grievances. Though often shocked at
tlicir lawless and profane customs, ho yet recognized in
many of them traits of generosity and ; (,",; -ness.

"Without a partichj of aggressiveness in his disposition,
he h:ul never undertaken actively the work of reform, yet
his example of uprightness and integrity liad made an ini-
l)ression upon the community. The people treated him with
unvarying respect and confidence, partly from a sense of
Ills real superiority, and partly, perhaps, from the very lack
of self-assertion on his side. Ccjnsequently without having
made the least cfFort to do so, he exercised an autocratic
power among them.

i\Irs. Dubois visited the women of the place frcquentlv,
particularly when the men were absent in their lumberin<>-.
or fishing operations, conversing with them freely, bearing
patiently their superstitious and ignorance, aicUng them lib-
erally in temporal things, and sometimes mingling kindly
"^■(jrds of counsel with her <rifts.

Idele's intercourse with the settlers was in an altogether
different style. Her manner from earliest childhood, when

MlU-UilCIII.

f.lK> fir.-t lM-:in (n run .,i,.mt f'-,„u ()mM'<.ttii.ur to anotl.vr,
lia.l Invu !Vto. JVank, au'l i.u; . : i.'U.. AVhcthir it wiis, that
having .siull'.I tV....i bahvlu.oil d' ' frc^h furcit ulr of llw nrw
v.rlfl', it. l.voath V-.'J la vir*^'- ''' ^^'f'" '' *"""''^'''' ""^''l'^"-
dciicc not Bhircd l)y her pnvcw.ts, or, Avhuther the liiiu-hty
blood that liad flowed larbaek in the veins of auce.-*t.>rs,
after coursln- quietly along the gcnerati.^n.s had in lier h.-
conic btimulated int.' n(;w uctivi^y, certain it is, she had al-
v,uy,s tbc iK.iring of one Ir.ving authority and the art ot
g. .ver.ung seemed u, : -ral to her. It was strange, therefore-,
tint she shoul'l have l.ccn ^ueh a universal fav.)rlte in the
,u.I..hhorhood. But so it was. Those who hahitually set
puhHe law atdefiauee, eamc readUy under the eontrol of her

youth i'ul sway.

rt.>-^essing a full share of the irrcpressildc activity ot
childhood, The enaeted the part of lady of the ^lanor,
assmmn;.- prerogatives that even her mother did not thmk

of exeri'ising.

Wheu ;il)out eleven sunuuers old, she opened one after-
noon the door of an Irish cabin and received at ouee a cor-
dial, noi. / welcome from its inmates. She did not howcve,
make an" immediate response, for she had begmi taking a
minute survey of the not over-nice premises. At lengthr
Bhe deigned to speak.

"Fn-id-et ]\Ialone, are you not ashamed to have such u
disorderly house as this? Why don't y^u sweep the flour
and put things in place?"

"Och ! hinny, aiv^ how can I swapc the floor without a
brum?" said Bridget, looking up iu some dismay.

MlJiA.Mirm.

ittaijc' to iuiotlu'f,
'hftlioi- it was, that
■Cot ail- of tlio new
I caivk'j-s iiulcpcu-
K'ther the liauulity
/eins of ancestors,
ims, hail in lior ho-
iii it is, slic hail al-
ity and thi; art ot
1 straii^n'e, thcrcforo,
LTsal favorite iu the
who habitually set
jr the control of her

ircssihle activity of
uly of the Manor,
iiothor (lid not think

opened one uftcr-
ceived at once a cor-
Bhe did not howcvc,
had begun taking a
i-eniides. At lengthr

ained to have such a
y iu sweep the floor

ic the floor without a
juie dismay.

"Didn't my father order .lames to give yon a lironni
wlienescr yoii want oney Here Pat," said .-lie, to a ragged
nrcliin ai)(>ut her own age, who was tuniMing about o\er
the floor with a little dirty-faecd baby, "here, take this
jack-knife and go down to the river by Mrs. Campbell's
new house and cut sume hendoek bougii.s. lie juick. and
brinu' them back as fast as you can." I'at started at once.

Allele tlien deliberately took oil' her bonnet and shawl,
rolled them up into as small a package as she couhl make,
and ])laccd tliem on tlic nearest a])pro.\imation to a (lean
spot lliat could be found. Tlien slie stooped down, took
the baby from the floor and handed him to his mother.

''Here, Bridget, take Johnny, wash his face imd put
him on a clean dress. 1 know he has another dress and
it ought to be clean."

" Vcs. He "s got one yon gave him, Miss Ady, but it
flint clane at all. Shnre it's time to wash I'm wanting, it is."

" Now, don't tell me, Ih'idget, that you have not time to
wa.-h your children's clothes and keep them decent. Vmi
need not spend so many hours smoking yoiu' pipe over the
ashes."

" Von would n't deprive a poor oratur of all the comfort
she has in the world, would ye, hinny?"

" You ought to take comfort in keeping your hmise and
children clean, liridget."

In the meanwhile, Bridget had washed Johnny's face,
and there bemg no clean dress ready for the little fellow,
Allele said, "Come, Bridget, put on a kettle of water,
jiick up your clothes, and do your washing."
7

.mii:amk in.

" Slmrc, iiiiil I will, if ye f^ay ft). Miss Ady."
'I'lic [tour wliil'tlcss tliiii^^liiiviii;,' i»liU'c(l tliu buby on tho
flour a^'iiiu, began to stir iihout aiid mnkv ready.

Adi;le sat poking and turning over tho ehubby littlo
Jolmny with her loot.

At last, Pat appeared witli a modrrate ([iiantity of
liendoek boughs;, whieli Adcle told him to throw u[)on the
floor, — then to hand her the knife and sit down by her
side and learn to niiiko a broom. She seleeted, elipped,
and laid together the boughs, until slio had made (piile ii
pile: sent Put for a strong piece of twine and an old broom
liandle and then secured the boughs lirndy upon it.

"Now Pal,'" she said, "here is a nice, flew jack-knife.
If you will promise nie that you will cut boughs and make
your mother two new brooms, just like this, every week,
the knife sludl be yours."

Pat, with eyes that stood out an unmentionable distance,
and mouth stretched from ear to ear, promised, and jVdele
jn-oceeded vigorously to sweep tlie apartment. In tho
Course of half an hour, tho rot)m wore a wholly different
aspect.

'* And who tould the like of ye, how to make a lannu
like that, hinny?"said Bridget, looking on in admiration
of her skill.

" Xubody told me. I saw Aunt Patty ^IcXab do it
once. You see it is easy to do. Now, Bridget, remember.
Have your house clean after this, or I will nut come to see
you."

"Yes, shurc, I'll have them blessed brums as long's
tikcfc 'e a tree grows."

MiijA.Minri.

Vdy."

the biiby oil tho

c'iuly.

,0 cliubl)y little

tc ([(i;intity of
i throw ui)on the
it down liy Iior
•Iccteil, clipped,

111 lll!l(k' (|uill' 11

ud an old bi\)itui
ii|)ou it.
fli'w jack-knife.
Jiinhs and make
liiri, every week,

ionable dis^taiioe,
ji^ed, and Adele
•tnu'iit. In tlie
wholly ditlerent

to make a l)rnni
)n in admiration

ty ^leXab do it
idi;et, remember.
[ nut come to see

brums as long's

And true it \va<i, that Adele'.s threat not to visit her
c;ibin proved ^iieh ii (<ahitary ti-rror to poor Ilrid'^-et. that
there was a perceptible improvement in her domestic
arranj^'ements ever sifter.

As Adele <<:n'\Y older, the aseendeney she luid btainod
in her obsenre emj)ire daily inercuscd. At twelve, she
was .sent to a convent at Halifax, where she remained
three years. At the end of that period, she retin-ned to
Miramichi, and resinned at once her rciral sceptre. Tho
sway nhv held over the i)eoi)le was really one of love,
,t:roiinded on a reeoijnition of her superiority. Circiilatim^-
ain;iiiu: (hem freely, she became thoroughly acquainted
Avith their habits and modes of li\inii-, and she was ever
ready to aid them, under their outward wants and their
deeper heart troubles. A eommmiity must have some one
to look up to, whether conscious of the want or not.
Hero-worship is natural to tin- human soul, and the miscel-
laneous group of women and children scattered over tho
settlement, found in Adele a strong, j aous, sclf-relviii"-
spirit, able to h- 'v them out of their dil-ficulties, who could
cheer them wIrii down-hearted, and spur tUem no when
getting diseoui.;ged or inefficient.

I)Ut, added lu this were the charms of her youthful
beauty, Avhi.-ii even tho humblest felt, v\ithout perhaps
knowing it, and an :'ii of authority that swept away all
opposition, and held, nl limcs, even Aunt Patty ^L.-Xab at
arms' lei^th. Yes, it must be confessed that the young
lady was in the ha'>it of queening it over the people ; but
they were perfectly willing to have it so, and both hned
and wci '; proud of their little .lespot.

MIIIAMICIII.

I;i (he iiiciiu limo, llii< DiiImm^ ihiiilly wciv livin.ir ii li(n
vitliiii ;i lilr, l<. tlic /«y//r i.l' wWuU llic iTiidcr iiiii-l now In:
jntni»lii<'C(l.

It liiis lurn Hiiiil tliiil llic «iiitu;u(l !is|.oct of their dwcll-
iiiLj was rcsiu-ctiiMi", and in tliat irijanl was not jiTrally at
vnriaiKT, vKrv^tt in M/f, with thi- snrniiindiii},' lial)itatii.iis.
AVithiii, howovor, thiMv wc-ro apaitiiicnts iiirnishcd and
ndi;r I'd ill sinh a iiiaiiacr as to liotokoii the charaeti r and
tii-^tt'S (if the iinnatcs.

In the M't'ond ftnry, directly over the ppacions dininj,'-
rooni ahrady descrihcd, then- was a I.-iil? apartment wilh
two windows reaching"' lu-arly to th(^ floor. It was eaq.ctcd
with crimson and hlack Tn-nsscls, contained two solas of
French workmanship, made in a heavy, tiionL,di ricli style,
covered witli cloth also of <Tinison and Mack ; with chairs
fashioned and carved to match the conches, and llni-hed in
the same niat»'rial. A (jnaint-lookinj,' piano stood in one
corner of the n -n. In the .. nliv was a Chinese laccpiercd
table on which stood ii lamp m hxou/.o., the bowl <>\' which
was snpported by varions broadly . 'illnir, -.q-ote.Mpie crea-
tnres, belonging to a genns known only hi the iloniiiin of

fable.

On the evening fijllowiiig tlie bnrial of poor Pat ]Mc-
Grath, :\Ir;. Dnbois sat in this apartment, en-aged in
enibroidering ii fancy piece of ihx'^>^ lor Adtle. That
yonng lady was reclining niion a sofa, and was looking
earnestly at a painting of the Madonna, a copy 4i-om some
old ma.'ter, hanging marly opposite to her. It was now
bathed in the yellow moonlight, wbich heightened the won-

til

\n
to

Ik^

l»i
in

MinAiMinir,

Tro livliifj n liHn
Icr mii-t now lie

t (if tlicir thvcll-
as not jiTrally at
liiiLT lial)itatii>iiH,
•< t'iiriii>li('il ami
10 rharactiT and

Hpaci()ii>» (lliiiii,!^-
a|»artiiiL'iit willi
It was carpc'ti'tl
K'(l two solas of
luiii-fh ricli style,
lack ; with rliairn
S ami I'liii.-licd in
mo stooil in one
['liiiu'st> lac(|nci('il
lie Ijowl "f wliicli
f, <j;rote-iine crea-
in the iloniajn of

of poor Pat ^h'-
lent, eii-aged in
,r Adtk'. Tliat
and \vas lookinif
a cojiy ii'om Home
ler. It was now
liij-htcncd the w(in-

derfnlly saintly expression in tlic countonnnoes of the holy
mother and ehild.

*' .Sec ! ma bnnnr mc'T, the hli ^sed >raric looka down on
n-i with a s\veet smik' lo-ni';ht."

" She always looks kindly ii]K)n lis, cficir, when vrc try
(o ill riuiit,"' said Mis. Diiiiois, smiliiif^. '» Doulitlcss voii
lia\c tried to he irood fo-day and sluMipproves your elliirt."

" Now, Jii:^t (ell me, inti. rfiirc »)^/7. how shi' would re-
i.'-ard me to-ni^dit if I had eommitted one wicked deed
t(i-<lay."

" This same ^laric looks sad and wistfid somctimca, my
Adele."

" True. Ihit not jiarfienl: \ at si/rfi times. It depends
on whleh side the lii;Iit strikes the pietnre, whether she looks
sad or sniilinj^. .Fust tlait, and nothing more. . Now the
iiio(mlij,dit gives her a smiling exjiression. And plea.<c
listen, c/icra were, I have luMird that there is, eomcwhere,
a Madonna, into whose eoiintonanee the old painter en-
deavored to throw an air of profonndest repo>e. lie sue-
eeedcd. I have heard that that jiiitine has a strange
(lower to soothe. (Jazing upon it the spirit grows calm
and the voice unconsciously sinks into a whisper. Our
priests woidd tell the common people that it is amiraenlous
influence exerted upon them hy the Virgin herself, where-
!is it is only the eflict produced hy the exquisite skill of the
artist. Eh, blcn ! our ehureli is full of superstitions."

" Wc will talk no more of it, mnjilk. You do not love
the holy Marie as you ought, I fcii'..''

"Love her! indeed I do. She i? the most blest and

MHIAMirill.

honoml nnu.n^ wonion,— tlu- moll.or cf tl.o Saviour. Hut
why »-l."iil<l >v«' l>vay to Ii.t, wImm .l.-^ii-* i^ the only i.itcr-
rcs'h.or i'or our /lus will, the Fathor? Why, ma d>in

vicic y "'

^^Ilrhis ! mnfilh. You h^anicl to Mi-ht the iutcrcc.-sion
of Ihr holy HuhitH uhilc you were at the coiivcut. It i^
f.tranjj;c'. I thou^^lit I <'oulil trus^t you tlicri'."

- Ho not think it the fault of th(! listers, rhiic vicic
They (li<l llair <hity. This way of thiukinj,' amc tu inc. I
tliil not seek i(, inili'od."

"Mow ilid it conic to you, via pavrrc/itlc?"

" I will tell y<ai. 'I'ho first time I wont into the convent
parlor, Sister A.lri.nnc, thinkin- to nmune me, took me
around the room and hhowed me ils-euriosilies. Ihit I wan
fllKMl witn an infn.ite dis-u.t. I did n..t di-tinctly knovv
then why 1 was ho .^iekened, hut I understand it all now."

" What tlid you see, AdMeV"

"Eh I those'horri.l relies of saints,— those teeth, those
bones, those l.x-ks of hair in the eahinet. Then that awliil
skeleton of sister A<,Mies, who il.undedthe eonvent and was
the first Ahhess, covered with wax and jirc^erved in a
crystal case ! I thou;,dit I was in some eharnel-hoiise, I
could hardly breathe. D<. you like such parlor ornaments
as those, ma cfierc mere?"

"Not quite."

"What do we Avant of the dry bones of the Paints,
Avhen we have memoirs of their precious lives? They
would thinnselves spurn the superstition that consecrates
mgre earthly dust. It nauseates me to tliink of it."

MIUAMIcm.

ri)

li(> Siiviniir. Hilt
( U tilt; ttiily inter-
Why, nui I'liii'e

;lit tlK'iiitt'roo.«,<*i(in

he I'ouvciit. Il i^

ere."

istors, rhi'ie vicrc.

iiii^ aimc to inc. I

ftlh?"

lit iiitotlio ooiivont
nunc iiu', took mc
osilics. r.iit 1 wiw
lot (li.-tincfly kin>w
LTHtiiiid it nil now."

-those tooth, those
. 'Hioii that uwl'iil
lie convent iind was
n<l jmservod in a
> chiirnel-lionse, I
h parlor uruamcnts

moa of the saints,
cious lives? They
on that eonsecratcs
tliink of it."

•» l\iirrihz, niiijiUc."

•' My tVieiiil iVoin the States, Malxl MMiton, came to
the coinent. llic diy I airiseil. A-< oiir studies wei'c ihu
fiinne. and iis, nt lii>l, we were liolli Imme-iek, llie sisteiN
piiinitted us to lie to;j;ethi'r iiiueli I'l' the time. /■.'// / Inrn !
I read her lionks, her Hiltle, and so liuht dawned. She
n-ed to pray to (he Father, throu:j;h the l{e(|eeiner. I
liked that way lie.r.t. fhit mn iivrc, our cathedral service is
^nll!in^(;. There is nothinj,' like tliitl. Now you will I'or-
"ive mo. The arehes tiie altar, the incense, the •;lorious
sar'nii" waves of music, — these raised me and Mahel, like-
wise, up to the lofty third heaven. How hl^h, how holy
we felt, when we worshipiied there. Ijeeausc \ like fiie
ealhedral, you will for-ivc me for all 1 said before, — will
you not, ma rlirrc nirn:'/"

Turning; her lieail smldenly towards her mother, Adele
saw her eyes filled with tears.

*' E/i ! iiKi c/irrc mrrc, juinhnncz mni. I have pained
you." And she rose and Hun;,' her arms, passionately,
aiMund her mother's ncek.

" l\iuvri"ltllr!" said the nidHier, relurnin<i: her eniliraeo
mournfnlly, '" you will wamler away from the elmreli. —
our holv eliiireh. It would not have been thus, had wo
remained in sunny IMeardy. Eh! oiMlcr jc 710 jmis"
■ " What is it, c/ierc mere," said Adele, " that you cannot
forget? There is something J have long wished to know.
,\Vhat was there, before you oainc here to live? Why do
you sometimes sit and look eo thoughtful, so sad and wish-
ful? Tell me, —tell mc, tlmt I may comfort you."

]\tiuA5iiC'ni.

- I will tell you all, A.lolo, yes, — all. It is time for
you to know, but — not to-night — not to-night."
' ' To-movrow then, mii. mere ? "
< ' Yes. Yes — to-morrow."

AVCC
llioi
^v r( 1
Iiiiii
Ills
He
;^t^e
'1
the
all
witl
iiev
niiti

woe
war
mei
]'lo

ti;C

his

It is time for

)-iiiglit."

CIIAPTEIl X.

ricAnDV.

" "Weki" yo not for tlio dciid, neither bemoan lilni : Imt
Avoc'p pore f )r liiiii that p;ooth away : for lu- shall return no
more, nor .<ee his native country." The i)rop]iet, who
wrote these words, well knew the; exile's grief. He was
hiniseU' an exile, lie thou,';ht of .lerusaleni, the eity of
jiis home, his love, and his heart was near to hreakiuy.
lie liuu"' his harp upon the willow ; he s^at down by the
t-treams of Babylon and wept.

The terrible mahuly of homesickness, — it has eaten out
tlie A igor and beauty of many a life. The soul, alien to
all around, forlorn anfid the. siiOst cuehanting seencs, filled
with ceaseless longing f )r a renewal oF past delights, can
never find a remedy, until it is transplanted back to its
native dime.

Nor was the proi)hct singular in his experience of the
woes of exile. We have heard of the lofty-spirited Dante,
wiuidering from eity to city, carrying with him, iu l)anish-
iiieut, irrepressible and unsatisfied yearnings for his beloved
Florence; we have seen the (i reek Islander, borne a cap-
ti e from home, sighing, in Aain, f )r the dash and roar of
Ids familiar seas ; we have seen the Switzer, transplanted

ArinAMicin.

to milder cli.nos nm\ move raaiant skies, yet longing f .r
the stern mountain forms, the breezes and eelioes of l.is
native land. Ah ! who does not remember, with u shud-
der, the <lespairing thoughts, choking tears, and days nf
silent misery that clouded his own boyhood, and perhaps
even some days of his early manhot)d?

OuhUcrje no puis. Poor lady ! she had been homcsi.'k

twenty years.

On the afternoon followhig the conversation recorded iii
the last chapter, ISlvs. Dubois was ready to unfold to Adele
the story of lier past life. They were sitting in the parlor.
The golden glory of the Sei)tember sun gave an intense
hue 'to the crimson furniture, lighted up the face of tlie
.Madonna with a new radiance, and touched the ivory keys
of the piano with a fresh polish. Adele's eyes were fixed
with eager expectation tipon her mother.

" You knoNV, ma chore, " I^Irs. Dubois began, " we once
lived in France. But you cannot know, I trust you never
may, what it cost us to leave our beautiful Pieardy,— what
^vc have suffered in remaining here, exiled in this rude
country. Yet then it seemed our best course. Indeed,
we thought there was no other path for us so good as this.
We were yoimg, and ihd not enough consider, perhaps,
what such a change m our life involved. I must tell you,
my Adele, how it came about.

In the province of Pieardy not many miles from the city
of Amiens, there was a fine, but not large estate, border-
ing on the Eiver Somme. A long avenue of ])oplars loil
from the main road up a gentle slope imtil it opened upon

a hni
the ^
llowc
stitf,
'i what
fount

IVolU

jii»t 1
Then
statel
wheri

ti) [)0

long,
so sw
I sp(
iioiit
extor
Tliou
rearc(
who (

In
spent

Th
of my
CVuni
the y

murri
.*oucc
•■vith :

MIII.UIICIII.

!s, yet longitip; fi>v
and crliOL'S of liis
luber, with a sliiul-
tcai's, ami days uf
■hood, and perhaps

lad been homesick

•rsation recorded in
r to unfold to Adelo
itting in the parlor,
ui gave an intense
up the face of tlic
;hed the ivory keys i
.'le's eyes were fixed

is bcn;an, " we once
V, I trust you never
fnlPicardy, — what
exiled in this rude
st course. Indeed,
L- us so good as thi:*.
I consider, perhaps,
\. I must tell yon,

■f miles from the city
large estate, bordcr-
cuue of ])oplars led
Lintil it opened npou

a broad, green platcan (if grass, studded with giant trees,
the growth of eentiu'ies. Here; and there Averc trim little
iluwer-beds, laid out in a variety of fantastic shapes, with
still", glossy, green, closely-clij)pcd Ijorders of box. And,
\ what was my childish admiration and deliglit, there was a
' fiiuntaiu that poured itself out in oozing, dripjjing droj)3
I'nmi the flowing hair and finger ti[)S of a marljle Venus,
ju.-t rising in the inuncnse basin and wringing out her locks.
Then the [);u-k, — there was none more beautifid, more
stately, extending far back to the banks of the Somme,
where birds sat on every bough :uid the nightingale seemed
til ])onr its very heart away, singing so thrillingly and so
king. I hear the liquid notes now, my Adele, so tender,
so sweet ! At the end of the avenue of poplars of which
I spoke stood the chateau, with tlic trhn flcnvcr-beds in
iVont. It was built of brown stone, not much ornamented
externally, with four round towers, one in each (nirner.
Though not as old as some of those castles, it had been
reared several centuries before, by a Count de Rossillon,
who owned the estate and lived on it.

In that chateau, I first saw the light of day, and thcio I
spent my hap[)y childhood arid v lolh.

The estate of Rossilli.n had bc^.i bequeathed by the will
of my grandfather, to his twu son j. The elder, the present
Cuimt de Rossillon, inherited the larger portion ; my father,
the younger son, the smrller share.

My father was a Bouapartist, and at the time of his
raurriagc held a high rank in the army. During his ab-
sence from the country, my mother resided ut the chateau
■vith her brother-in-law, the Count.

MTRAMICm.

One (lav In Jnne, new. .rnvo-l of th. sua.lon aoath of
.„y i^ttlici^ It was connnunioatea to my -nother, by the
messono-cr AvUo brousht it, witbout precaution. lb.
,i,..Ut. one bunr after, I was n.bered into an orpbune,!
existence and my .notber took ber departure fronx tbo
world. Tbink of me Adele, tbn.s tbrown a wad upon ibc
sbore of life. Yet, tbou^'b born In tbe .badow ot r. great
sorrow, sunli-bt struck aero., my patb.

'I'ho faitbful Lonnc, wbo bu.l taken eare of nn' motbc -a
her iniancv and bad never left ber. now took ebar,e
of u.e Sbe watcbed ovcm- me faltbftdly and filled up nn
cbiblbood witb afteetionate attention and innoee.^ pa.tnac.
My uncle, tbe Count, wbo bad never been marr.ed, loved
p Jted, and indulged me in every wi.b. AVben I grew old
!„,,.,b, be .eeured a governess well qualified to teaeb and
discipline mc. Under ber care, witb tbe aul of maste.
i„ U.Un, music, a.d drawing, tnan Annens, I wo
tbrougb tbe course of instruction considered ueeessaiy t..
young ladies at tbat time.

I ;as ar your age n.y Adele wben I first met your fatbe, .

11. ^vas not tbe bronzed and .•areworn man you see nm nov. ^_ ^^^

Ab ! n.. He was young and gay, witb a tab^on glance and h ^^^ ^

,,,a<.k wreatbing locks banging over bis wlnte, smooth ^^^^^

h,.,v. Ills fiitber was of noble bb. d, and syn.pat In.cd ^,^^^^

warmly witb tbe detbrone.l liourb.av . He was no lover ^^^ ^

,, tbe great Consul. Tbe political tr -ublc. m 1 ranee bad ^ ^.^^^

operated In ways greatly to impoverisb lus bous^. . ^^^^^

lie owned and occupied only tbe remnant of wbatL.l ^ ^^^^

been a large estate, udjoinit.g tbat of tbe (^ount do Kos-

tillou.

liiinAMicin.

sudilcii tlt'atli nf
IV niother, by ihv,
precaution. 'I'li't^^
into an orpliuuLil
parturc from the l\
vn a waif upon the y
sliudow of ii gi'e;it

xo, of my mother in
now took chavii'C

[ly and filled up niy

I innocent pa^t'nlu•.

!en married, loved,
When I grew old

lalified to teach ami
the aid of masters

u Amiens, I Aveiit

iidcred ncee^riary iW

irst met yonr father.

anyoiiscclum now.
a falcon glance and i)
his white, smooth '

d, and sympathi/.ed
He Ai-as no lover

mbles in France had

, his hou^e.

jmuant of what hud ^

■ the ('ouut de Kos-

A^^ule acquiring his education, your fallicr, except at
o.'casional intervals, was six years fi-om home, and it so
hap[)eiied that I never u}et him in my childhood. Indeed,
tlie families were not on terms of intimacy. On his return
from the University, I first saw him. Eh! blcn! It is the
same old story that you have lieard and read of. In your
hooks, my Adclc. We became acquainted, I will not stop
now, to tell you how, and soon learned to love each other.
Time passed on, and at last your father sought the consent
of Miy uncle, to our marriage. But he put aside the prop-
osition with anger and scorn. He thought that Claude
Dubois was neither distinguished nor rich enough to match
his niece. In his heart, he had reserved me for some con-
soieuous position in the great circle at Paris, while I had
iiiveu mvself to an obscure youth in Picardy.

Your fadier was too honorable to ask me to marry him

without the consent of the Count, and too proud to take me

ill his poverty. So one day, after his stormy interview

witli my uncle, he came to me and said he was going away

U) endeavor to get fame, or wealth, to bestow upon me and

make himself more worthy in tlie eye^ of the Count de

Kos,,illon. Yet he wished to releiise me from any feeling

of obligi-iion to him, as, he said, I was too young and

had too little accpuuntanec with life and society to know

•iilly my own heart. It would not be right, he tlumght,

to bind me U) himself by auy promise. I told himray alFee-

tiou for liinr would never change, but acquii-^ced in his

arrangements with a sad and foreboding iv art. In a few

weeks, he embarked for India.

MMIAMICIU.

Tlieu .nv uuclo r..u.ca himself from tho in.Tt.t, of Iuh
quiet luil,it.s and laudc an-.nj,n^..nents for a journey tlu-ou^L
France and Italy, • •• '^ U'^ --1 I wan to take wtth luu..

I received the . ...^ .uent with inaillerencc, heu,^
whollv occupied ,:rief at the bitter separ^.tion h-u>u

your fDthcr. The clian-o however proved .salutary, and,
in a week after our departure, 1 felt hope once more dawn-

in;-' in my heart.

The ..ountry throuo-h which we travelled ^vas sunny and
beautitid, veined with sparkling streams, shadowed I. y U.-
ests, studded with the olive and uudberry, and with vnie.
bearing the h.scious grape for the vintage. The constant
chano-e of scene and the <laily renewal of objects of mter-
0,, ami novelty, combined with the elasticity of youth,
brou'dit back some degree of my former buoyancy an.l
aaye"y. ISIy uncle was so evidently delighted with tl.c
return of my old cheerfulness, and exerted himself so nnuh
to hei-diten it in every way, that I knew he sincerely lose
me, and was doing what he really thought would in the end
contribute to my hai>piness. He judged that my aftec-
lion I'or your tiither was a transient, youthful dream, and
woidd soon be forgotten ; he fancied, no doubt, I was even
then beginning to wake up Irom it. He wished to pre-
vent uic from forming an early and ^vhat he considered an
imprudent marriage, whic-h I might one day regret, un-

availingly.

An.r it proved to be all right, my Adele. lour fiither
and I were both young, and the course the Count de Eos-
sillon took with us, was a good though severe test ot our

■m

BnuAMicirt.

tlio iiKn-tiii of li'iH
a juurncy tliroii;j;li
to take with liim.
iiKlinorcncc, hnws, L
n- scpiinvtiDU frum a
vod .siilutary, and, "f
c once more dawu-

llcd was sunny and
:, shadoNVcd by t'or-
ry, and with vines
\ru\ The constant
of objects of Intor-
clasticity of youth,
•mcr buoyancy and
dcli,ij;htcd with the
ted him^^clf so nuirh
w he sincerely lo\iil
dit would in tlu' cud
V'-cd that niv afl'ci'-
pjuthful dream, and
10 doubt, I was even
He wished to i)rc-
hat ho considered an
one day regret, un-

Adelc. Your fothor
se the Count de Eus-
<di severe test of our

aircction. In the meanwhile, I was secretly .sustained l)y
the hope that your father's ellbrts would be crowned with
success, and that, after a few years, lio would return and uiy
unelc, having found, that nothing could draw mc iVimi uiy
attachment to hiin, would out of his own love i'or me and
cnusideration for my happiness, at last consent to our
union.

\\\', crossed the Al[)s and. went into Italy. Here a new
Avorld was opened to me, — a world (jf beauty and art. It
lie.-towed upon me many hours of exquisite enjoyment.
The Count travelled w itii his own carriage and servants,
and we lingered wherever I felt a desire to prolong my
oijscrvations. lie purchased a cidlection of pieturcs, stat-
ues, and other gems and curiosities of art. Among the rest,
the ]\Iadonna there, my Adele, which he presented to nie,
because I so much liked it. lint I nmst not linger now.
On (.iiu- return to France, we spent a month at Paris, and
there, though too young to be introduced into society, I met
in private many distinguished and fashionable people, who
were friends of the Count.

\Vc were absent from the chateau on(! year. It was
pleasant to get back to the dear old place, where I had
spent such a happy childhood, the scene too of so many
pi-ecious interviews with your beloved father. We re-
turned again to oar former life of quiet ease, enlivened at
IVeipicnt intervals by the visits of guests from abroad and
l>y tliosc of friends and acquaintances among the neigli-
hiiring nobiUty. Though I received no tidings fi'om your
filler, a secret hope still sustained mc. A few times only,

Mir.AMICIII.

diirin- the first tlircc year, of hh ab.^enee, dhl I lose my
chccrFulnesd. Those were, when .>^uuie hjver pressed his
.uit and I knew that m repelHng it, I was upsetting su.u.. ^
dierishcd scheme of my unele. But I will do hnn the jus- ^
lice to say that he bore it patieutly, and, (.nly at Ion- .
intervals, oavc vent to his vexation and disappointment. |

It wad when my hope concerninj,' your father's retui'u
beii-an to fail, and anxiety respecting his fate began to be
indul-cd in its stead, tliat my spirits gave way. At the
elose^of the fourth year of his absence, my peace was
wholly gone and n: lays were spent in the restless agony
of suspense. IMy health was rapidly failing, a-/, ' my uncle
who knew the cause of my prostration, instead of consult-
ing a physician, in the kindness of his heart, took me to
Pm-is. But the gayeties to which I was there introduced
were distasteful to me. I grew every moment more sad.
Just when my uncle was in despair, I was introduced
accidentally to the Countess de .Morny, a lovely lady, who
had lost her husl)and and three cldldren, and had passed
through much sorrow.

Gradually, she drew n:c to her heart and I told her all
my grief. She dealt very tenderly with me, my Adele.
She '(lid not seek to cheer me by inspiring fresh hopes of
your father's return. No. She told me, I might never
be Claude Dubois's happy bride, but that I might be the
blessed bride of Jesus. In short, she led me gently uito
the consolations of our Holy Church. Under her inthi-
ence and guidance I came into a state of sweet resignation
to the divine will,— a peaceful rest indeed, after the ter-

MIUA,AUCI1I.

^0, dill I I'l'^c I'ly
luvcr pressed liis )
•as tipscttiujj; somo v
ill do him the jus- ^
and, only ut liiii;,' ,
disappointment,
nn- father'a retui'n
fate began to bo
avc way. At the
ce, my peace was
the re.«tles8 ugony
iling, a'.;' my unclc
instead of eousuk-
heart, took me to
as there introdnecd
moment more fad.
I was introduced
a lovely lady, who
LMi, and had passed

and I told her all
•ith me, my Adele.
ring fresh hopes of
me, I might never
:hat I might be (he

{

(lie I
into }

e led me gently
. Under her inthi-
of sweet resignation
idccd, after the tcr-

-'i>le alternations of nuspen-'' and despair I had sufTcred.
'Alt, my Adule, it was only by constant prayers to tiio
bi! ■".'^d Marie that my soul Avas kept from lapsuig into its
former state of dreadful unrest. Ma chv.rc Adelo, you
know not what you do, when you speak slightingly of our
Holy Church. I should then have died, had I not found
rest in my prayers to the blessed mother. Now, you are
young and gay, bu* ilio world is full of sorrow. It may
o\ertake you iis ii did me. Then you will need a hope, a
c(jns()lati()n, a refuge. There is no peace like that found
at the foot ot !ic cross, hnploring the intercession of the
compassionate, Icving M«/-/e. Do not wander away from
the sweet eyes of the mother of Christ, ma/dlc."

Here Mrs. Dubois ceased speaking, and turned a tear-
fij, affectionate gaze upon her daughter. Adelc's eyes,
that had been fixed upon her mother with earnest, absorbed
attention, filled witli tears, instantly.

' ' Ma cficrc mere, I would not .uakc you unhappy. I
will try r'ot to give you pain. Please go on and tell mo
all."

" Eh ! bien ! ma there, my uncle was pleased to sec me
becoming more peaceful. Finding I was not attracted by
the pleasures of ihe gay city, he proposed our return to
the chateau, and .rgged the Countess de IMorny to accom-
pany us. At n. , urgent request, she consented.

On the day of our an-ival, the Countess weary with the

journey, having g')ne to her own apartments, I went to

stroll in the beautifid, beloved park. It was June, — that

month so fiUl of leaves, flowers, bu-ds, and balmy summer

MinAMicni.

wimls. i ■:" at the foot of an oM l)cccli-trco, loaniuj? my
head against its hu-o trnuk, li.stcning t.. the tlow of tho
rivor, In.hil-in- in dan-L-rous rcv.ri.'. — dan-.Tou. oca-
taiuly to jny poacc of mind. Suddenly, 1 wa« dtartlod hy
the sound of ibot.stq.s. Before I cm.uUI euilect my seal-
tcred senses, your father stood before me. ' Mane; he

eaid, ' Marie'

For one moment, I met his can <t, qnestionin-c ga/c.
and then rushed into his open arm In short, lie had
come haek from India, not a rieh man, but with a eom|M-
tcnec, and when he fomul I had not forgotten him, but iiad
dung to him still, through those weary years of absence,
he Resolved to see the Count de Kosillon and renew tlie
request he had made four years previous.

My unelo, though mueh surprised at his s-idtlen api>ear-
ancc, received him politely, if not cordially. When your
father had hiid before lum a simple statement of our eaaef
he replied frankly.

' I am convinced,' he said, < by what I have observed
during your al)scnce, M. Dubois, that the arrangement
you propose, is the only one, which will secure .Marie's
happiness. I will say, however, honestly, that it is tar
enough from w hat I designed for her. But the manliness
and honorable feeling you have manifested in the affair,
make me more willing to resign her to you than I should
othervnse have been, as I cannot but hope that, although
deprived of the advantages of wealth and station, slu; will
yet have the faithful affection of a true and noble heart !
This was enough for us both and more than we 'expected.

I
I

tr
fa
ei
J\

MlltAMIClIl.

trco, K'aninjjj my
t the How of till"
— dan^'ci'ous wr-
I \va.« .ittirtlcd by
I I'ollct't my scat-
me. ' Mark,' he

fHiostiuniii<r }:^a/c,
J 11 nhort, he had
)iit witli a eoiuiH'-
ottcn him, hut had
' years of ubsoiit^e,
lU)n and renew tlio

lis sudden ap^icar-
idly. Wlien your
emont of our easef

it I have observed
it the arran,t,'eineut
will Hcciire ^lavie'.-i
)stly, that it is far
But the manliness
['csted in the affair,
) you than I should
hope that, althoup-h
and station, she will
lie and noble heart !
than we 'expected.

.. nut a n^ V .llirieulty arose. Tpou ..hservinji tho
troubled and u.uvrtain state of allairs in Fnu.ee, your
iMther beeamo eonvineed that his ehatiees to Hirure the
cuds he had in view, would be -reater in the new world.
After a brief period "I deliberation, he fixed upon a plan
„r ^r„i„jr to 111 li Vnicrion, and purelmsin^' there a
l.„.J, tnu-t ol' I "- founding an esti'te, tjic value of

whl-h he auti. 'd iucrcusc with the growth of the

country.

.,T„ tiiis a , the Count was strenuously

opposed. There wa. a |.retty embowered residence, a

short distance from \U chateau, on the portion of tla*

estate I had iuhevite.l from my father. There he wishe.l

i„ to live. In slu.rt, he wished to retain us near hini-

.ilf. lint your father, with tlie enterprise and enthusiasm

of youth, persisted in his purpose. At hist, my imeh; gave

a reluctant consent and purchased my share of the estate

of Kossillon.

" Not to my surprise, but to my great p-atification, soon
nfter this, the gentle Countess de Morny consented to
become the Countess de Kuesillon.

" Surrounded by a joyous group of friends, one bright
September morning, In the chapel of St. Manr, they were
married, and then the [.rlest united me to your father. The
sweet mother looked down from above tlu; altar and seemed
to give us a .smiling blessing. We were very happy, my

Adelc.

In a few days wc set sail for New Bnmswlck. A^ e
arrived at St. John in October and there spent the foUow-

/)0

MinAMinii.

inji wintor. In tlu> Hpriii-j:, yimr tUthi'r »>xi>l<»iv(l thia rc-
frinii and iniulf u liW^'c |.iircli!isf .if liuul lioro. At that
time it Mccmod a (lu.xiriil.K- iuvcstnu-nt. Hut you m; how
it in, my A.Il-Ic. Ail Iuim rcHiillrd stranjrdy (liiU'rotit from
wliat wo aiitifipatcd. Ami Homchow it, 1ms always hccii
(liHiciilt to (•lian;,'e our home. From time to Jimc, we liavo
tliDU^lit of it, — obstacles have nriscu ami — we are still

here."

«' Rut where is the Count do Kossillon, mother? It is
twenty years, is it not, since you left France? Does he

, yet live ? "

"J/*/ ma chere, wo know not. After our di'parturn
from France wo received freiiuenl letters from him and tlio
dear Countess until five years since, when the letters
ceuscd. They constantly iu-gi'<l our return to llossillon.
You remcmher well the tiiousand pretty toys and gifts they
showered upon your cliildhood?"

"Ah lyes, mother, I remcmher. And you have not
heard a word from them for five years ! "
"Not a word."

" Do you Avish to go hack to Franco, mother?"
" It is the only wish of my heart that is unsatisfied. I
am full of ceaseless yearnings for the beautiful home of my
youth. Would that we could return there. But it may
not bo. France is in a state of turmoil. I know not what
fate has befallen either my uncle, or hia estate, lie may
be dead. Or, if living, he may no longer be the proprio
tor of beautiful Rossilhm. Wc cannot learn how it is."
." Cannot my father go to France and ascertain what has

[ploiTil tli'uH rc-
Ik'Iv. At, that
lit ytiu Hcc lu)\v
y (lini'ivut f'nim
iiH alwayrt bccti
I) Jlmc, wo liiivc
1 — ^vo lUH! still

mother? It is
ncc? Does ho

• our (It'paftiii'f!
1)111 hhii and the
hen the letters
n to llosKillon.
ys and gilts they

1 you havo not

lothcr?"
i unsatisfied. I
tiful home of my
re. But it may
I know not what
estate, lie may
!r be the proprie
am how it is."
BCertain what has

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WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80

(716) 872-4503

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thi

Hb
wi
re(
nn
va
he
th

.SI
he
fai
tic

he
rit
in!
bl<
in

A]
ti-ii
loi
an

,,v :

^yf'.

■'■■,v .' .'.

A't-t

I .

«1

mira:miciit.

happened there? Perhaps, mother, he might find a homo
for you once more in your dear Picardy."

" He is thiukin<f of it even now, mafdlc"

"Is he, mother? Then be comforted. You Avill see
that sweet home once more, I feel assui'cd."

She rose and flung her arms aroimd ]\[r8. Dubois, ex-
claiming, " Dear, beautiful mother I "

An hour later, Adele might have been seen, wandering
ftbout in jMicah's grove, her mind and heart overflowing
with new, strange thoughts and emotions. She had just
received the first full revelation pf the early life of lier
■nnronts. Tier 1fnnwlpd(rr> nf \t lioforp Vinil hpf«n mere!'/
vague and confused. Now a new world was opened for
her active fancy to revel in, and fi-esh fountains of sympa-
thy to pour forth, for tliose whom she so fondly loved.
She sighed as she recalled that 3'earning, wistful look upon
her mother's face, in those hours when her thoughts seemed
far away from the present scene, and grieved that her gen-
tle spirit should so long have suffered the exile's woe.

For weeks after, she continually fell into reverie. In
her day dreams she wandered through the saloons and cor-
ridors of the old chateau, where her mother had spent so
many years, chequered with sunshine and shade. She ram-
bled over the park and cooled her fevered head and hands
in the water that dripped from the tresses of the marble
Aphrodite. Fancy took her over the route of foreign
travel, her mother had pursued with the Count dc Rossil-
lon. She longed herself to visit those regions of clascsi
and romantic interest. During the long, golden, Septcra-

MiiJA-Micnr.

l)cr afternoons, slic spent lu)urs, in the INIadonna room,
qucsti()nin,^f her niotlior iincw respecting the scenes juid
events of lier past life, and listening eagerly to lier replies.
Tlie young examine distant objects as through a ])nsm.
Adele's imagination invested these scenes and events with
rainbow splendors and revelled in the wealth and beauty,
6he had herself partially created. The new world thus
opened to her Avas infinitely superior to ti.e one in which
she held her commonplace, humdiimi existence, ■^he
never wearied of her mother's reminiscences of the past.
Each fresh description, each recalled item of that history,
added to the extent and the charms of her new world.

IVfrS. T)llbf)in llOr.iolf folf- •-> /^n,^•^'nr> r>P .Or>or,.,„,, :„ il T

- .^.^ „ ...,^pi,_v^ t,, px>jUOUH^ 111 lllUB IIV"

ing over again her former life Avith one, who entered art-
lessly and enthusiastically into its joys and soitows. She
also experienced an infinite relief in pouring out to her
sympathizing child the regrets and L^iigmgs which had, for*
so long a period, been closely pent in her own breast.
i\ [other and daughter were dr.awn nearer to each other day
by day, and those hours of sweet comn i were amono

the purest, the happiest of theii- lives.

Mr.
condi
ill ev
was i
and (

said .
the s

been
tlema

]Mi
made
togi

W
turne
seven
that
I cam

onna room,

.socnos juul

Iicr rej)lit'.s.

,^li ti ])nsm.

events with

and Ijoauty,

world tliiia

le in which

!uce. -She

f the past.

lat history,

world.
:„ ii !•

Ill lllUB IIV-

ntcrcd art-
•ows. She
out to her
3h had, for
wn breast.
1 other day
'^ere amona

CHAPTER XI.

MR. BEOWN.

Nearly two weeks had elapsed since the night when
Mr. Dubois had brought Mr. Brown, in a sick and fainting
condition, into his house. That gentleman had lain very
ill ever since. The disonso wos tvnjinid fever ; the ')aticnt
was in a critical^statc;, and nothing now but the utmost care
and quiet coiUd save his life.

" A\niat du-ections have you left for to-day. Dr. Wright?"
said Adele to the physician, as he came one morning from
the sick-room.

"Mrs. McNab has the programme, " he replied.

" Will you please repeat it to mc, sir? ]\Irs. McNab has
been called elsewhere, and avIU not have charire of the "cn-
tleman to-day. "

Mrs. Dubois looked at Adele with some surprise. She
made no remark, however, as Dr. Wright immediately began
to give the directions for his patient to that young lady.

"WHien he had taken leave and closed the door, Adele
turned to her moiher and said, " I have suspected for
several days that things were not going on properly in
that sick-room. Last night, I became convmced of it.
I cannot stop to tell you about it now, mamma, as there

iih

I !i '

1 1 ,ilt

•111

i '

BUUAMICHI.

is no time to lose with our invalid. But Mra. jMcXub
must decamp. I have it all arranged, and I promise you
I will not offend Aunt Patty, Ijut will dismiss her peace-
ably. Do trust her to me once, mamma. Please go
now and tell her there is a message waiting for her in the
dining-room. Stay with ^Ir. Brown just one half hour,
and you shall have no more trouble to-day."

" But, ma cherc, you have no patience with Aunt Patty.
I am afraid you will be too abrupt with her."

"Don't fear, mtunina, I promise you I will not outrage
Aunt Patty. Please go."

"Ah! well ! I will go," said Mrs. Dubois.

;Mrs. jNIcNab soon made her appearance in tlie dining-
room, and, with some degTce of trepidation, inquu-ed who
wanted her there.

" Micah was here an hour ago," replied Adelc; <'and
said ]\[rs. Campbell sent liini here to ask you to come and
help her. Four of her children are sick with the measles
and she is nearly do;vu herself, in consequence of fatigue
and watching. I did not speak to you then, as I supposed
you were sleeping. I told ^licah I had no doubt you
would come, as there are enough here to take care of the
sick gentleman, and ]Mrs. Campbell needs you so much."

" Wecl, Mss Ady," said Mrs. McNab, twitching vio-
lently a stray lock of her flaming hair and tucking it
beneath her cap, "Idiuna ken how you could tak' upon
yourself to send su(;h a ward as that, when Mr. Brown is
just on the creesis of his fever and not one of ye as knows
how to tak' care o' him m6re than a nussin' babe."

beoflf
about
father
the di
"'J
I 've (
hand '

respor
now y
^Irs. I
home
"\^
I'm 80
fever
l»atty'i

" Mr.
for hii
going
Camp]
to assi
watchi
you. "
convin
length
field 1(
sons, <

MIUASIICIII.

■8. jMc'Xab

rouiisc you

her pcacc-

Plcase go

r hei- in the

half hour,

Lunt Patty.

aot outrage

tlie dining-
quu-ecl who

lelc; "and

coinc and
the measlea
a of fatigue

I supposed
doubt you
cai'e of the

1 80 much."
itching vio-

tucking it
1 tak' upon
r. Brown is
re aa knows
e."

"Ah! indeed 1 Aunt Patty," said Adele, pretending to
be offended, "do you say that my mother knows nothing
about sickness, when you are aware she has carried my
father through two dangerous fevers and me through all
the diseases of bab; hood and childhood?"

"That raon 'ull never get weel if I leave him noo, when
I 've the run of the niuddesons and directions. A strange
hand 'ull put everything wrang and he'll dee, that's a'."

"And if he does die," said Adele, "you will not be
responsible. You have done what you could for him and
now you are called away. I am sure you will not permit
IMrs. Campbell to suffer, when she gave you a comfortable
home in her house all last winter."

"Weel, Mrs. Cawmmclls' a gude woman enough and
I'm sorry the bairns are sick. But what's the measles to a
fever lik'^ this, and the mon nigh dead noo?" Aunt
Patty's face flushed scarlet.

" Aunt Patty," said Adele, very slowly and decidedly,
" Mr. Brown is my father's guest. We are accountable
for his treatment, and not you. My mother and I are
going to take charge of him now. I sent word to Mrs.
Campbell that there was nothing to prevent you from coming
to assist her. You have had your share of the fatigue and
watching with our invalid. Now we are going to relieve
you. " There was sonaethingin Adele's determined air, that
convinced Mrs. McNab the time for her to yield had at
length come, and that it waa of no use for her to contest the
field longer. Feeling sure of this, there were various rea-
sons, occurring to her on the instant, that restrained her
9

I-

',1

li '1^

"'i'

1 I

i.i t

ti I

ri'

MIRAMICUI.

from a fm-tlior expression of her vexation. After u few
luomenta of eullen silence, she rose and said —

" Weel 1 I'll go and put my things tegitlicr, that's in
Mr. Brown'8 room, and tell Mrs. Doohyee ahoot the mud-
desons and so on."

"That is not necessary," said Adcle ; "The Dr. has giv-
en me directions about the medicines. Here is breakfast all
ready for you, Aunt Patty. Sit down and cat it, while
it is hot. I will go to the gentleman's room and gather up
what you have left there. Come, sit down now."

Adele placed a pot of hot coffee and a plate of warm rolls
upon the table.

Mrs. McNab stood for a moment, much perplexed be-
tween her impulse to go back to Mr. Brown's room and
unburden her mind to Mrs. Dubois, and the desire to par-
take immediately of the tempting array upon the brcakfat^t-
table. Finally, her material wants gained the ascendency
and she eat down very composedly to a discussion of the
refreshments, while Adele, anticipating that result, hasten-
ed up stairs to collect the remaining insignia of that worthy
woman's departing greatness.

Mrs. Dubois, on going to Mr. Brown's room, had found
the atmosphere close and suffocating, and that gentleman,
tossing restlessly on the bed from side to side, talking to
himself in a wild delii'ium. She left the door ajar and be-
gan bathing liis fevered head in cool Avater. This seemed
to soothe him greatly and he sank back almost immediately
into a deathlike slumber, in which he lay when Adele en-
tered the chamber.

nboii
cella
ward
ehou
late I
U
sat d

fortl

(( '

Ady,

times
invali

"J
much
relegi
broke

"I
know

"I
I hci
pectin
a dan

"^
Adele
His 1
trunj|i

"'J

MII^VMICIII.

After a few

her, that's in
oot the imul-

! Dr. has giv-
i breakfast all
cat it, whUc
Liid gather up

l)W."

of warm rolls

perplexed be-
n's room and
desire to par-
the brcakfast-
le ascendency
ussion of the
esult, hasten-
»f that worthy

im, had found
it gentleman,
le, talking to
ajar and be-
This seemed
t immediately
len Adele en-

Cautioned by her mother's uplifted finger, she moved
about noiselessly, until she had nuule up a large and mis-
cellaneous package (jf articles; then descended quietly, in-
wardly resolvhig that the "Nusa" as she called herself,
should not for several weeks at least, revisit the scene of her
late operations.

Airs. McNab was still pursuing her breakfast, and Adele
sat down, with wliat patience she could command, to wait
for the close.

"You'll be wanting some ain to watch to-night. Miss
Ady," said Aunt I'atty.

" Yes, JMr. Norton will do that. lie liua offered many
times to watch. lie will be very kind and attentive to the
invalid, I know."

" I s'pose he '11 do as weel as he knows hoo, but I ha vena
much faith in a mon that sings profane sangs and ca 'a ' cm
relcgious heems, to a people that need the bread o' life
broken to 'em." "*

"Have you heard liim sing, Aunt Patty? I did not
know you had attended his meetings at the grove."

*'I havena, surely. But when the windows were up,
I heard him siugin' them jigs and reels, and I ex-
pectin' every miimt to see the men, women, and bairns
a dancin'."

" Taey sit perfectly still, while he is singing," said
Adele, " and listen .as intently as if they heard an angel.
His voice is sometimes like a flute, sometimes like a
trumpet. Did you hear the words he sang?"

" The wards I yes I them 's the warst of a ! " said Mi's.

\\V

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I'M I

IM'

100

UIKAMICIII.

McXab, expanding her nostrils with a snort of contempt.
"They bear na resemblance whatever to the Psalma o'
David. I should na soon think o' singing tlio eangs o'
Robby Bm'na at a rclegious service as them bhvsphcmoua
things."

"Oh 1 Aunt Patty, you nrc wrong. lie sings beautiful
hymns, and he tells these people just what they need. I
hope they will listen to him and reform."

" Weel he 'a a vei'y light way o ' carryin lumaelf) for a
minister o* the gospel, I must say."

*'Hc is cheerful, to be sure, and sympathizes with the
peojilc, and helps them in their daily labor Boiuetiiucs, If
that is what you refer to. I am sure that is right, and I
like him for it, " said Adele.

♦' Weel 1 I see he's a' in a' with you, noo, " said Mrs.
McNab, at last rising from the table. *' 1 11 go up noo and
tak' leave o' the patient."

" No, no, " said Adele. "He is sleeping. He must
not be disturbed on any account. His life may depend
upon this slumber remaining unbroken."

She rose involuntarily and placed herself against the
door leading to the stairs.

Mrs. McNab grew red with anger, at being thus foiled.
Turning aside to Ixide her vexation, she waddled across
the room, took her bonnet and shawl from a jjeg she had
appropriated to her special use, and proceeded to invest
herself for he/ departure.

""Weel 1 I a'pose ye '11 expect me to come when ye
Bend for me," said she, turning round in the doorway with

agi

suiil

hnpi

by."
«(

i"g.

Bess

niort
cr.
resig
so.

near

and 1

of dc

The]

hush

her

hade

but f,

struc

d>-inj

goinj

death

her c

fanci(

OW8 (

MIRA3IICIII.

101

of contempt.

iic Paalins o'

tlio Bangs o'

bliisphcmoua

inga beautiful
they need. I

iiimself) for a,

lizcs with the

eOiuCtiiiiCH, ir

t right, and I

I, " said Mrs.
p up noo and

ig. lie must
I may depend

f against the

I thus foiled,
iddled across
. jjeg she had
led to invest

me when ye
ioorway with

a grotesque distortion of her face intended for an ironical
enjilc.

«' Tlmt is just as you please, Aunt Patty. Wo shall be
hnppy to see you whonciver you choose to come. Good-

by.»,

"Good by," said Mrs. McNab in a quacking, quaver-
ing, half resentful tone, as she closed the door behind her.

Adele went immediately to the adjouiing pantry, called
Bess, a tidy looking mulatto, gave her directions for the
morning work and then went up stairs to relieve her moth-
er. JMrs. Dubois made signs to her that she preferred not to
resigii her poat. DuL Adele silently insisted she should do
so.

After her mother had left the room, she placed heftielf
near the bedside that she might ob8er\e the countenance
and the breathing of the invalid. His face was pale as that
of death. His breath came and w^t almost imperceptibly.
The physician had excluded every ray of sunshine and a
hush, like that of the grave, reigned in the apartment. In
her intercourse with the people of the settlement, Adele
had often witnessed extreme illness and several dying scenes ;
but she had never before felt herself so oppressed and awe-
struck as now. As she sat there nlone with the apparently
d^-ing man, she felt that a silent, yot mighty struggle was
going on between the forces of life and death. She feared
death would obtain the victory. By a terrible fiiscination,
her eyes became fixed on the ghastly face over which she
fancied she could perceive, more and more distinctly, shad-
ows caflt by the hand of the destroyer. Eveiy moment sh«
9*

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MlilAMICIII.

thought ofrccalUn'? her mother, hut I'eiiml that thcrtlightost
jurriii;,' movement ofthoiitmoHphisro might wtoi) ut oiu'o thiit
feeble rcf<i)iriition. So she remiiiiied, wiitchujg terror strick-
en, waiting tor the hiat, ubsoluto ^ilcnce, — the immovahlo

ropoHe.

Suddenly, she heard a limg, deep-drawn «igh. Slie
Baw the head of the Hulferer turn gently on oiyj Hide,
pressing the pillow. A eolor — the faintest in tiie world,
Btolo over the features. The countenance gradually settled
into a calm, natural expression. The respiration heeaiuo
8troi\ger and more regular. In a few moments, he slept
UH Hollly u» a llttlo child.

Adelc'a heart gave one bound, and then for a moment
Btood still. She uttered a sigh of relief, but sank back in
her chair, wearied by excess of emotion. She felt instinc-
tively, that the crisis had been safely passed, that there was
hope for the invalid. ^

Then, for a long timCj her mind was occupied with
thoughts respecting death and the beyond.

Suddenly a shadow, flitting across the curtained win-
dow, recalled her to the present scene.

Ah I what a mercy, she thought, that Aunt Patty did
not kill hira, before I discovered her beautiful mode of
nursmg sick people. No wonder he has been crazed all
this time, with those strange manoeuvres of hers I

On the previous, night, Adele had been the last of the
family to retire. Stealmg noiselessly past the door of the
sick-room, which was somewhat ajar, her steps were ar-
rested by hearing Aunt Patty, whose voice was pitched on

a v(
Ing
sysl
Tp,
Pat)
(low
and
mos

she 1

((

enou
M
voice
an ai
Scot
sleep
Tl
a mo
a spo
little
open<
huge
what

,t thortliglitost

[) Ut OIK'C tllllt

; tciTor strick-
le iminuviililo

I HlJ^ll.

SIio
on oi\fi Kitlo,
in tho worM,
uluiiUy wcttlcd
ration Ijucuiuc
lenta, ho slept

tor 11 moment
Blink back in
le felt instinc-
that there was

occupied with

lurtaincd win-

.unt Patty did
tiful mode of
een crazed all
Ejrs !

the lost of the
he door of the
steps were or-
tras pitched on

ii HUM Kill. 101

a very hi^'Ii key, sinj^inj? «omo (»ld Scotch son;,'. Think
in^ this rather u w(ran;,'c method of (-ompoMiM;,' the ncrvoiw
system of u delirious patient, nhe stood and listened.
Up, far up, into the loftiest rojrions of sound, went Aunt
Patty's cracked and qnaverinj^ voice, and then it came
down with a heavy, precipitous full into a htud frmmblo
and tumble below. She repeated again and again, in u
most Iiilurious tone, the worda —

" Let ufi go, lassjp, go.

To tho braoM of nalqulilthcr,
Where tho blaeharries uravr,
'Alang the bonnie Ilighlatul heather."

In the midst of this, Adelc heard a deep groan. Then
ehc heard the invalid say in a feeble, deprecating tone —

••Ah I why do you mock mo? Am I «ot miserable
enough?"

Mrs. McNab stopped a moment, then replied in a sharp
voice, '« Mockin' ye ! indeed, it 'a na such thing. If yp had
an atom o' moosic in ye, ye wad ken at ance, its a sweet
Scotch sa^ig I'm singin' to ye. I 've sung mony a bairn to
sleep wi' it."

There waa no reply to this remark. All was quiet for
a moment, when Adele, fancying she heard the clinking of
a spoon against the side of a tumbler, leaned forward a
little and looked through the aperture made by the partially
opened door. The nurse was sitting by the fire, in her
huge headgear, wrapped in a shawl and carefully stirring,
what seemed, by the odor exhaled, to be whiskey. Her

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104

MIRAMICUI.

face was very red and her cyca wide open, staring at tho
coals.

The sufferer uttered some words, which Adele could
not distinguish, in an excited voice.

" I tell ye, there isna ony hope for ye," said Mrs. Mc-
Niib, who, for some reason, not apparent, seemed to he
i greatly irritated by whatever remarks her patient made.

' ' There isna ony liope for thum that hasna been elect-
ed. Ye might talk an' pray a' yer life and 'twould do ye
/ na gude. I diuna ken where you 've been a' yer life, not to

ken that afore. With a' yer furbelowed claithes and jew-
elled watch and trinkets, ye dinna ken much aboot the
gospel. And then this new preacher a' tellin' the people
they can be saved ony minut they choose to gie up their
hearts to the Lord ! Its a' tegithcr false. I was ti'ught in
the Kirk o' Scotland, that a mon might pray and pray a'
his days, and then he wadna be sure o' bcin' saved.
That 's the blessed doctrine I was taught. If ye are to be
saved, ye will be. There noo, go to sleep. Ill read the
ward o' God to ye."

Alas ! for the venerable church of old Scotia, had she
many such exponents of her doctrine as Mrs. McNab.

Having thus relieved her mind, the nurse swallowed the
contents of tlie tumbler. She then rose, drew a chair
toAvards a table, on which stood a shaded lamp and took
from thence a Bible ; but finding her eyesight rather dim,
withdrew to a cot in one corner of the room, threw herself
down and was soon sleeping, and snoring prodigiously.
i • Adele, who hjid, during the enactment of this scene,

s<
e«
si
^
di
vi
m

tej
pa

ati

A<
sle
toe
wh

lea

MIRA3IICIU.

105

Staring at tho

I Aclele could [

said Mrs. Mc-
seemcd to be
,ticnt made.
;na been elect-
. 'twould do ye
'yerlife, not to
lithes and jcw-
uich aboot the
;lliu' the people
gie up their
[ was ti'ught in
ray and pray a'
y beiu' saved.
If ye are to be
. Ill read the

Scotia, had she
s. McNab.
3 swallowed the
drew a chair
lamp and took
ght rather dim,
1, threw herself
rodigiously.
t of this scene,

been prevented from rushing in and deposing Mrs. McNab
at once, only by a fear of exciting the patient to a degree
of frenzy, stole in quietly, bathed his liead with some per-
fumed water, smoothed his pillow and seated herself, near
the fire, where she remained until morning.

Mr. Brown slept only during the briefest intervals and
was turning restlessly and talking incoherently all night.
Soon after day dawn. Aunt Patty began to bestir her-
self, but before she had observed her presence, Adelc had
escaped to her own room. Soon, hearing Micah's voice,
she went to the kitchen. She found his message from
Mrs. Campbell, just the excuse she needed to enable her to
dispose of Mxi. McNab. She had become quite con-
vinced that whatever good qualities that worthy woman
might possess as a nurse, her unfortunate proclivities to-
wards the whiskey bottle, united with her rigid theological
tenets, rendered it rather unsafe to trust her longer wkh a
patient, whose case required the most delicate care and
attention.

The queer, old clock in the dining-room struck one.
Adele heard it. She was still watching. Mr. Brown still
slept that quiet sleep. Just then, Mrs. Dubois entered,
took her daughter's hand, led her to the door, and
whispered —

" Now, take some food and go to rest. I will not
leave him." Adele obeyed.

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CHAPTER XIL

A CASE OF CONSCIENCE.

Mn. Broavn remained in a peaceful slumber during the
afternoon. Mrs. Dubois aroused him occasionally, in order
to moisten liis parched lips, and with her husband's aid and
]\Ir. Norton's to change his position in the bed. At such
times he opened his eyes, gazed at them inquiringly, feebly
assented to their arrangements, then sank away into sleep

again.

The members of the family felt a peculiar interest in
the stranger. ISIr. Dubois had described him, as a man
of intelligence, refined and elegant in his deportment and
tastes. He had noticed in him, an an: of melancholy,
which even ludicrous events on the journey had dissi-
pated, but for the moment. The wild words he had
uttered on the night of his arrival, revealed some deep dis-
quiet of mind. Away from home, hovering between life
and death, and thrown on the tender mercies of strangers,
Mrs. Dubois was filled with compassion and solicitude in

his behalf.

Having confidence in INIrs. McNab's skill as a nurse,
she had not suspected that her partiality for a hot dose at

MinAMICUYv

107

aer during the
nally, in order
band's aid and
)cd. At such
iringly, feebly
way into sleep

iar interest m
lini, as a man
sportment and
if melancholy,
ney had dissi-
ivords he had
some deep dis-
g between life
:s of strangers,
id solicitude in

ill as a nurse,
)r a hot dose at

night, would interfere with her faithfulness to hei charge.
Nut having conununicated with Adele, she did not yet
know why it had been deemed important to dispose of her
so summarDy, and she secretly wondered how it had been
accomplished witli so little ado. When informed, she ap-
proved Adele's decisive action.

Mr. Norton had fully shared the "interest felt by the
family in the sti-anger, and was happy to relieve :Mrs. Du-
bois in the evening and to remain by his bedside during tljc
night. Sinoe liis first interview with .Air. Brown, on the
day of liis arrival, he had felt that, in accordance witli the
vows by which he had bound himself to the great Master,
the unfoxtunate stranger had a claim on liim, which he re-
solved to fulfil at the earliest moment possible. He hud
liad no opportunity as yet, of executing his purpose, Mrs.
JNIcXab having guarded the door of the sick-room like a
lioness watching her cubs. AYhen she had by chance per-
mitted him to enter, he hiid found her patient wandering
in mind and entirely incapable of coherent conversation. °
Meantime, he had prayed earnestly for his recovery and
secretly felicitated himself with the hope of leading liim to
aTock of refuge,— a tower of defence, wliich vvouTd secure
him from sin and sorrow.

Mr. Brown contmued to sleep so peacefully during the
night, that Mr. Norton, whose hopes for his recovery had
been increasing every hour, was not surprised at the dawn
of day to perceive his eyes open, examining the objects in
the room, with the au- of a person just awakened from a
bewildering dream.

, I

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108

MXRAMIOHT.

Ill

" He gar^ curiousljc at lire heavy, carved bureau of dark
•wood, at the grotesque little tabic, covered with vials and
cu'ps, at the cabinet filled with specimens of foreign skill
and art, at the Venetian carpet and at last, hia eyes re-
mained fixed upon a black crucifix, placed in the centre of
the mantle. He uttered a deep sigh.

Mr. Norton, convinced that he had fully collected his
scattered thoughts and become aware of the realities of his
situation, stepped gently forward from liis station beliind
the bed and taking Mr. Brown's hand, said, in a cheerful
tone, " How do you find yourself, my dear sir ? "
After a momentary surprise, Mr. Brown replied —
" Better, I think, sir, better."

"Yes sir. You «re better. I thank God for it. And
also for this hospitable roof and the kind care these people
have taken of you in your illness. The Lord's angel must
have guided your steps to this house, and mine also."
♦« This house, sir ! whose is it? "
" It belongs to Mr. Dubois."

"Ahl I recollect. I came here with him and have
been ill several days. And the country is — "

" Miramichi," said Mr. Norton. " A desperate region
sir. A land where the darkness may he felt."

Just then a ray of red, burning sunshine shot into the
room. The good man modified his remark, exclaiming,
-• " Morally, sir, morally."

Observing a cloud of anxiety stealing over Mr. Brown's
face, he went on.

"Now, my dear sir, let me tell you — you have been

vc:
ov
at(

to-
of
\V
to

tn
po

de
an
inl
no
fa
bj

mi
inj

re
fai

MiKx^noni.

109

)ureau of dark
with vials and
f foreign skill
, hia eyes re-
1 the centre of

' collected his
realities of his
station beliind

in a cheerful

sir?"
replied —

i for it. And
e these people
d's angel must
ne also."

him and have

_ »

esperate region

3 shot into the
rk, exclaiming,

ir Mr. Brown's

you have been

very ill for two weeks. The danger in your case is now
over, but you are cxtrcmoly weak, and need, for a time, the
attention of the two lovely nurses, who watched over you
yesterday and arc ready to bestow land care upon you again
to-day. You must lay aside, for the present, all troubles
of mind and estate, and devote yourself to getting well.
When you are somewhat stronger, I have excellent things
to tell you."

"Excellent things!" exclaimed Mr. Brown, excited-
ly, — a flush overspreading his wan features. "Has the
traitor been found ? " Then with a profound sigh of disap-
pointment, he uttered feebly —

" Ah I you do not know."

"I do not know what your particular trouble is, my
dear sir, but I know of a way to relieve you of that, or
any other burden that weiglis on your spirits. I Avill
inform you when you get stronger. What you need
now, is a cup of oatmeal gruel, mingled with a tea-spoon-
ful of wine, which shall immediately be presented to you
by the youthful queen of this mansion."

He turned to go and caH Adele. But IVIr. Brown
motioned him to remain.

♦' Do you reside here, sir?" he asked, in accents indicat-
ing great prostration and despondency.

" No, sir. I arrived here only a few hours before your

I am from the State of . You are also from that

region, and I shall not leave you until I see you with your
face set towards your native soil. Now, my dear sir, be
quiet. Perhaps yoiur life depends on it." --- - -
10

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Min.vMicrri.

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«' ]\Iy llfo is not worth a penny to anybody."

"It Id wortli ten thouriiuul pounds and mure to your
friends. Bo qniet, I say."

And ^Ir. Norton went out of the room, gently but deci-
sively. i\Ir. Brown's eyes followed liiui as he closed the
door.

Already he felt the magnetic power of that good and
sympathizing heart, of that honest, upright soul, whioli
in.s])irod by heavenly love and zeal, cast rays of life and
happiness wherever it moved.

Moreover, he was too nuich prostrated in mind and body,
vigorously to grasp the circumstances of his situation,
whatever they might be. Pain and debility had dulled his
faculties and the sharpness of his sorrow also. The good
missionary's cheery voice and heartfelt smile soothed, for
the time, hi^ wounded spirit. It was as if he had taken a
sip of Lethe and had come into the land in which it always
seemcth attornoon.

Soon Adelc opened the door and approaching the table
gently, placed upon it the gruel. When she turned her
eyes full of sympathy and kindness upon him and inquired
for his health, he started with a remembrance that gave
him both pain and pleasure. She reminded him strangely
of the being he loved more than any other on earth — his
sister. He answered her question confusedly.

She then raised liis head upon "the pillow with one hand
and presented the cup to his Ups with the other. He drank
its contents, mechanically.

Adele proceeded noiselessly to arrange the somewhat dis-

ortl
bei
her
brc
ing
ful
wh
ugl
old
bin

]
hea
roo
ass:
buc
bin
lib)

1
of
tlei
hat
tur
edf
sin
a s
the

]

ma
he£

MIRAMlCIir.

Ill

Mly."

Ill mi)rc to your |

gently but ilcci-
xs he closed the

{■ that good and
irht soul, which
rays of life and

1 mind and body,
)f his situation,
ty had dulled his
also. The good
nilc soothed, for
f he had taken a
1 which it always

oaching the table
1 she turned her
him and inquired
brance that gave
cd him strangely
er on earth — Iiis
dly.

>w with one hand
>ther. He drank

the somewhat dis-

ordered room, and after placing a screen between it and the
bed, raised a Avindow, through which the warm Septem-
ber atmosphere wandeicd in, indolently bathing his weary
brow. As he felt its soft undulations on his face, and look-
ing around the pleasant apartment observed the grace-
ful motions of his youthful nurse, the scenes through
which he had recently passed, appeared like thoso of an
ugly nightmare, and floated away from his memory. The
old flow of his life seemed to come back again and he gave
hinxself up to pleasant dreams.

Mr* Brown continued thenceforward to improve in
health, though slowly. ^Nlr. Norton slept on a cot in his
room every night and spent a part of every day with him,
assisting in his toilet, conversing with him of the affairs,
business and political, of their native State, and reading to
him occasionally from books furnished by INIr. Dubois's
library.

He informed ^Ir. Brown of his mission to this wild region
of Miramichi, and the motives that induced it. That gen-
tleman admired the purity and singleness of purpose which
had led this man, unfavored indeed by a careful classical cul-
ture, but possessing many gifts and much practical knowl-
edge, thus to sacrifice himself in this abyss of ignoi-ance and
sin. He was drawn to him daily by the magnetism which
a strong, yet heroic and genial soid always exercises upon
those who approach it.

In a few days he had, without any effort of the good
man and involuntarily on his own part, confided to hun tho
heavy weight that troubled his conscience.

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112

MIK.UIICIII.

♦' Ah !" said Mr. Norton, his eyes full of profound sor-
row, and probing tlio wound now laid open to the quick,
" it was a terrible weakness to have yielded thus to the
wiles of that artful foreigner. IMay Heaven foi-give
youl"

Surprised and shocked at this reception of his confession,
Mr. Brown, who had hoped for consolation or counsel
from his sympathizing companion, felt cut to the heart.
Ilis countenance settled into an expression of utter de-
spair.

' ' ^Miy have you sought so dilir ently to restore me to
health, — to a disgraced and mis;rable existence? You
must have known, from the delu'oiis words of my illness,
of which you have told me, that life would be a worthless
tiling to me. You should have permitted me the privilege
of death," said he bitterly.

" The privilege of death !" said Mr. Norton. "Don't
you know, my dear sir, that a man unprepared to live, is also
unprepared to die ? Every effort I have put forth during
your illness has been for the purpose of saving you for a
happy life here, and for a blissful immortaUty."

"A happy life here ! For me, who have deeply offended
and disgraced my friends and my pure and unstained
ancestry I "

" It is true, in an hour of weakness and in-esolution,
you have sinned against your friends. But you have sin-
ned all your life against a Being infinitely higher that
earthly friends. Your conduct has disturbed family pride
and honor, and thereby destroyed your peace. But, do

a
II

ol
tl

P'
w

ir
ti
ir

ai
ai
re
T
ei
di
h

MIKXAUCIU.

113

of profound sor-
m to the quick,
led thus to tho
Ilcavcu forgive

f his confession,
itiou or counsel
it to the heart,
on of utter dc-

o restore me to
ixistcnce ? You
8 of my illness,
d be a worthless
me the privilege

orton. "Don't
cd to live, is also
put forth during
saving you for a
ity."

deeply offended
and unstained

md in-esolution,
it you have sin-
tely higher that
bed family pride
)eace. But, do

you never think of your transgressions against God ? For
a world, I would not have had you present yourself heforo
llis just trll)un;il, with your sins against Iliui unrepcuted
of. Is there ni> other thought in your heart, than to escape
the misery of the jjrescnt?"

i\Ir. Brown was silent. Mr. Norton continued.

*'It is utter weakness and cowardice, in order to escape
present discomfort and Avretchedness, to rush from this
world into another, without knowing what we arc to meet
there."

A flush of resentment at these words covered the in-
valid's face. Ju.nc then Adelc knocked on the door, and
said a poor woman below wished to sec ]Mr. Norton.

He rose instantly, weijt towards Mr. Brown, and tak-
ing his thin hand between his own and pressing it affec-
tionately, said, "Look back upon your past life, — look
into your heart. Believe mc, my dear sir, I am your
friend. "

Then he went to obey the summons, and Mr. Brown
vas left alone.

The emotion of anger towaiils his benefactor soon passed
away. lie had been trained early in life to religious truth,
and he knew that Mr. Norton presented to him the stern
rcfpiisitions of that truth, only in friendlmess and love.
The good man was absent several hours, and the time was
employed, as well as the solitude of several subsequent
days, by Mr. Brown, in looking into his heart and into
his past life. He found there many things he had not
even suspected. He saw clearly, that he had hitherto held
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114

MIRAMICIII.

himself ninonrtMo only to tlio ju(l;L,nnont of the world. Its
wtiiiidanl of propriety, tiistc, honor, had been hia. lie hiul
not looked higher.

Hid friend Mr. Norton, on the contrary, held himself
accountable to God's tribunal. His whole conversation, j
conduct, and ypirit, nhowed the ennol)linf^ etl'eet whieh that k
sublime test of character had upon him. In fine, lie per-
ceived that tlie ba-sis of his own character had been false
and tlierefore frail. The sui)crstvucturc he had raised
upon it, had been fair and imposing to the world, but,
when it8 strength came to be tried, it hatl given way and
fallen. He felt that he had neglected his true interests,
and had been wholly indifferent to the just claims of the
only Being, who could have sustained him in the horn- of
temi)tation. He saw his past errors, he moaned over
them, but alas ! he considered it too late to rei)air them.
His life, he believed to be irretrievabl\ lost, and he
Avished only to commit himself to the mercy of God, and
die.

For a few days, he remained reserved and sunk in a
deep melancholy.

At length, Mr. Norton said to hira, " I trust you are not
offended with me, my dear sir, for those plain words I ad- |l
dressed to you the other day. Be assured that though
stern, they were dictated by my friendship for you and my
duty towards God."

" Offended 1 ray good friend. O no. What you
said, is true. But it is too late for me to know it. ^
Through the merits of Christ, I hope for the pardon of my

lil

rei
mi
tri

CO!

the

sill

rcf

cai

hei

die
th(
thi
the

i i

ho world. Tt^^
1 liiti. He luul

, held himself
convcrsiitii)ii,
Feet wiiii'h that
n fine, lie per-
luul heen false
he had raised
he world, but,
given way and
i true interests,
t claims of the
in the hour of
moaned over
repair them,
lost, and he
3y of God, and

and sunk in a

'ust you are not
ain words I ad-
3d that though
for you and my

10. What you
e to know it.
16 pardon of my

RIinAJlICIII.

115

sins. I am willing to live and sulfcr, if it is His heliest.
But you perceive my power to act for the cause (if tnitli
is gone. My past has taken away all good InHuence from
my future course. Who will accept my testimimy now?
I have probably lost easte in my own circle, and have,
doul)tIcsH, lost my power to influence it, even should I bo
received back to its ties. In society, I am a disjionorcd
man. I (^annot have the happiness of working for tho
truth, — for Christ. IVIy power is destroyed."

"You arc wrong, entirely wrong, my dear sir. Ilavo
courage. Shall not that man walk erect and joyous before
the whole world, whatever his past may have been, whoso
sins have been washed away in tho blood of Christ and
wliose soul is inspired by a determination to abide by faith
in Ilim forever? I say, yes. Do the work of (Jod. IIo
will take care of you. Live, with your eye fixed on Ilim,
ready to obey Ilis will, seeking His heavenly aid, and you
can face the frowns of men, while serene peace fills your
heart."

Thus cheered and strengtheneil from day to day, Mr.
Brown gained gradually in health and hope. Especially
did ^Ir. Norton strive to invigorate his fiiith. He justly
thought, it was only a strong grasp on eternal realities,
that could supply the place of those granite qualities of
the soul, so la;king in this lovable, fascinating young
man.

11! t

i i''

' 51

H'i

CTTAPTEIl XIIT.

Tin: OUOVK.

Iv tho moiinwhilo, three or f..nr tiraoH <l.irin-,' the work,
Mr. Nort..n contiimed to hold uicctmgs for the people i.»
INIirah'rt ( J rove.

Th.Mc had hoon hilt httlo rain in the Mira-nichi rcston
diirii."- tlu> .-niumcM- and autumn. In fact, none worthy of
note had fallen f..r (wo months, except what ea.nc dnrin-
the late eqninoetial ntonn. The khihs wan i-arched with
heat, the roads were ground to a fine da.st, which a !.r.;ath
of wind «h-ovr, Uke ch,u(ls of .smoke, into the hurnin- mr ;
the fores) 1 uves, which had been .so recently stained with a
marvel) -us heaiity of brown, crimson and -old, be(;ame dim
and shrivelled ; a nli-ht touch 8napi)ed, with a sharp,
craeklin- sound, the dried branches of the trees ; even the
golden rod and the pnrplo aster, those hardy children
of autumn, began to hang their heads with thirst. All
day long, the graishopper and locust sent through tho
hot, pandng air, their shrill notes, stinging the ear with
(Uscord. The hwiven above looked like a dome of brass,
and a thin . filmy smoke gathers . . : -m,, „d th 3 horizon. ^

Even the rude settlers, with i '^t > ' '•''Jned by ' '-
ship, unsusceptible of atmosplitxic Lluuigfc», were oppressed
by the long, desolating drought. ^

Icr

Htn
th.

toy

Ultl

(
cm
iii
api
the

CO I

]
a 1
wit

Est
tiai
I
per
mil
feel
niai
nxai
for
witl
tim

MinAMiciir

117

hwhv^ till- wck,
M- the ppoplc III

klinnnlchi re;,'i<)n
, none worthy of
hut ciunc iliiriii;^'
^08 piircht'd witli
t, which a lm;ath
i thi' hurniiifj; ah- ;
tly stauicil with a
Lfold, hecaiac <Uui
I, with a sharp,
ic tijccs ; even the
!C hardy chil(hoii

witli thh-st. All
sent through tho
riim- the car with

a dome of brass,
I t!v3 horizon.

. ' f'nned by '
ffcB, were oppressed

It wnn only when the nhadows of nftoi noon hoj^nn to
loiiLjtIicii and tlic HutrH ray.i to strike oblicpiciy thn)ii;,di tli«
Htately tri'e.i of the (Jrove, that tiiey were able t.) ^^-ithor
the I' iitii' listen to the voice of tiio missionary. He had mo
fi r ii'Ofcd -d in his work, as to he able to draw the people
tog.'thcr, from a considerable distance around, and their
imniber Increased daily.

On the opposite bank of the river, half way up a slight
rruiiiem-e, stood a small stone ehapi'l. Tasteful iitiil elegant
ia its proportions, it presented a pictures(iue and attractive
appearance. There, once on each Sunday, the service of
the Churi^h <jf England was read, together with u brief dis-
coiu'se by a clergyman of that order.

Behind tho cha[)cl, and near tho top of the hill, was
a large stone cottage surrounded by pretty grounds and
with ample stable eonvcuienees. It was the Rectory.

The Chapel and Rectory had been built and the cler-
gyman was sustained, at a somewhat large cost, by tho
Establishment, for the purpose of enlightening and Chris-
tianizing the population of the parish of .

Unfortunately, the incumbent was not the self-sacrificinnf
person needed to elevate such a comnumity. Though
ministering at the altar of God, he had no true religious
feeling, no disinterested love for men. He was simply a
man of the worl(] a bon vivant, a horse jockey and sports-
Tiian, who C()n3i>led himself in the summer and autumn
tor liis exile in lijnt barbarous regi(m, by fdling his house
with provincial friends, who helped him while away tho
time in tishiag, hunting, and racing. The winter months,

i;!i)

. t

118

JIIKAMICIII.

he usually spent at Frcdericton, and during that interval
no service was held in the chapel. Of late, the few, who
were in the habit of attending the formal worship there,
•had forsaken it for the more animating services held m the

Grove.

Not only the habitual church-goers, but the people of
the parish at large, began to feel the magnetizing influence,
and were drawn towards the same spot. For a week or
more past, late in the afternoons on which the meetings
were held, little skiffs might have been seen putting off
from the opposite shore, freighted with men, women, and
children, crossing over to hear the wonderful preachings
of the missionary.

What attracted them thither? Not surely the love of

the truth.

Most of them disliked it in their hearts, and haxl not even
began to think 5f practising it in their lives. They were
interested in the man. They were, in some sort, compel-
led by the magical power he held over them, to listen to
entreaties and covmscls, similar to those to which they had
often hitherto turned a deaf car.

Mr. Norton spent much of the time with them, going
from house to house, partaking of their rude fare, sym-
pathizing in their joys and sorrows, occasionally lending
them a helping hand in their toils, and aiding them some-
times by his ingenuity and skill as an artisan. They
found in him a hearty, genial, and unselfish friend. Hence
when he appeared among them at the Grove, their personal
interest in him secured ii certain degree of order and deco-
rim, and caused them to listen to him respectfully.

g
o

m
w

si]

th
of

inji that inten^iil
;e, the few, who
il worship there,
rvices held m the

it the people of
etizing influence,
For a week or
ich the meetings
seen putting off
len, Avomen, and
lerful preachings

irely the love of

and had not even
ves. They were
me sort, compcl-
tliem, to listen to
o which they had

svith them, going
rude fare, sym-
sasionally lending
ding them some-
a artisan. They
sh friend. Hence
>ve, their personal
f order and deco-
gpectfully.

Min,VMICIII.

119

Even beyond tliis, he held a power over them, by means
of his natural and persuasive eloquence, enlivened by varied
and graphic illustnitions, drawn from objects within their
ken, and by the wonderful intonations of his powerful and
harmonious voice. He began his work by presenting to
them the love of Christ and the winning promises of the
gospel.

This was his favorite mode of reaching the heart.
On most of these occasions, Adele went to the Grove.
It varied her monotonous life. The strange, motley crowd
gathered under the magnificent trees, sitting on the ground,
or standing in groups beneath the tall arches made by the
overlapping boughs ; the level rays of the declining sun,
bringing out, in broad relief, their grotesque varieties of
costume ; the gradual creephig on of the sobering twilight ;
the alternating expressions of emotions visible on the
countenances of the listeners, made the scene striking to
her observing eye.

Another burning, dusty day had culminated. It was
nearly five o'clock m the afternoon. Mr. Norton was lying
upon a lounge in Mr. BroAvn's apartment. Both gentle-
men appeared to be in a meditative mood. The silence
was only interrupted by the unusual sound of an occasional
sigh from the missionary.

' ' Wliy 1 friend Norton ; " at length exclaimed Mr. Brown,
" have you really lost your cheerfulness, at last?"

" Yes, " replied Mr. Norton, slowly. <' I must confess
that I am wellnigh discouraged respecting the reformation
of this people. Here, I have been preacliing to them these

V\ :\

i j

120

MIK^UIICni.

weeks the gospel of love, presenting Clmst to them as
their friend and Saviour, holding up the truth in its most
lovely and winning forms. It has apparently made no
impression upon their liearts. It is true, they come in
crowd- to hear me, but what I say to them makes no per-
manent mark. They forget it, the moment the echo of my
voice dies upon their ears. The fact is, friend Brown, I
am disappointed. I did hope the Lord would have given
this people unto me. But," continued he, after a mo-
ment's pause, «' what right have I to be desponding? God

reigns.

" According to all accounts," replied Mr. Brown, " they
must be a hard set to deal with, both mentally and mor-
ally. I should judge, from what ]Miss Adele tells me of
your instructions, that you have not put them upon the
same rigid regimen of law and truth, that you may remember
you prescribed for my spiritual cure." Mr. Brown smiled.
" Perhaps," he continued, " these men are not capable of
appreciating the mild aspect of mercy. They do not pos-
sess the susceptibility to which you have been appealino-.
They need to have the terrors of the law preached to them."

" All ! that is it, friend Brown, you have it. I am con-
vinced it is so. I have fell it for several days past. But
I do dislike, extremely, to endeavor to chain them to the
truth by fear. Love is so much more noble a passion to
enlist for Christ. Yet they must be drawn by some motive
from tlieir sins. Love often follows in the wake and casta
out feai'.'

" I remoniber," said Mr. Brown, "to have heard Mr.

N-

kno

can

ing
<(

thes

field

tern

sidei

men

thou

slial^

Whi

the

very

A
rival
and,
sum

13
the i
the I
his I
over
the ]

A
quic
tion

irist to them as
ruth in its most
irently made no
B, tlicy come in
n makes no per-
it the echo of niv
friend Brown, I
i3uld have given
he, after a mo-
isponding ? God

. Brown, " they
sntally and mor-
lele tells me of
them upon the
u may remember
. Brown smiled.
3 not capable of
hey do not pos-
bcen appealing,
ached to them."
i it. I am con-
lays past. But
lin them to the
)Ie a passion to
by some motive
wake and casta

ave heard Mr.

MITlAMICni.

121

N , the famous Maine lumber-merchant, who you

know is an infidel, say that the only way the lumbermen
can be kept from stealing each other's logs, is by preach-
ing to them eternal punis^limcnt."

" No doubt it is true, " replied the good man, " and if
these souls cannot be sweetly constrained into the beautiful
fields of peace, they must be compelled into them by the
terrors of that death that hangs over the transgressor. Be-
sides, I feel a strong presentiment that some great judg-
ment is about to descend upon tliis people. AH day, the
thought has weighed upon me like an incubus, I cannot
shake it off. Something terrible is in store for them.
"What it may be, I know not. But I am impressed with
tlie duty of preaching a judgment to come to tliem, thia
very afternoon. I will do it."

A slight rattling of dishes at the door announced the ar-
rival of Bess, with a tray of refreshment for Mr. Brown,
and, at the same moment, the tinkling of a bell below,
fiuraraoned Mr. Norton to the table.

Half an hour later, the missionary, with a slow pace and
the air of one oppressed with a great burden, walked to
the Grove. He seated himself on a rustic bench and with
his head resting on the trunk of. an immense elm, which
overshadowed him, sat absorbed in earnest thought, wliile
the people gathered in a crowd around him.

At length, the murmuring voices were hushed into
quiet. He rose, took up his pocket Testament, read a por-
tion of the tenth chapter of Hebrews, offered a prayer »

■«-::

;;,!■■! ;

iil •'

122

JUUAMICHI.

and then sang in his trumpet tones, Charles Wesley's
magnificently solemn hymn, commencing, —

. " Lo! on a narrow neck of land

'Twixt two unbounded seas, I stand
Secure ! insensible 1 "

He then repeated a clause in the chapter he had just
re^J to them. "If we sin wilfully after that we have
received a knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no
more sacrifice for suw, but a certain fearful looking for
of judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour the
adversaries."

He began his discourse by reminding the people of the
truths he had presented to them during the weelis past.
He had told tliem faithfully of their sinfulness before a
holy God, and pointed out the way of safety and pm-ifica-
tion through a crucified Saviour. And he had earnestly
sou'^ht to induce them, by the love tliis Saviour bore them,
to forsake their.transgressions and exercise trust in Him.
He now told them, in accents broken with grief, that he
had every reason to fear they had not followed liis counsel,
Rnd observing their hardness of heart, he felt constrained j
to bring them another and different message, — a message I
less tender, but coming from the same divine source. He
then unfolded to them the wrath of the Most High, kindled
against those who scorn the voice of mercy from a dying
Saviour.

They listened intently. His voice, liis manner, his
words electrified them. His coimtenancc was illuminjnd

\vi
the
clo

thl

sta
ab(
tru
me

UJM

off
pre
1
whi
mc
the
Ib<

mul
war
witl

iT~l

Charles 'Wesilcy'B

and

pter he had just
ter that we have
ere rcmaineth no
;arful looking for
1 shall devour the

the people of the
ig the vveelvs past,
iinfulncsa before a
afety and pui-ifica-
1 he had earnestly
saviour bore them,
ise trust in Ilim.
^ith grief, that he
lowed liis counsel,
he felt constrained
3sage, — a message
livine source. He
klost High, kindled
aercy from a dying

Ills manner, his
ace was illumined

Min.unciii.

128

witli an awful light, such as they had not before witnessed
there. His eye shot out prophetic meanings. At the
close, he said, in a low tone, like the murmur of distant
thunder, " wliat I have told you, is true,— true, as that wo
stand on tliis solid ground, — true, as that sky that bends
above us. This book says it. It is, therefore, eternal
truth. I have it impressed upon my mind, that a judg-
ment, a swift, tremendous judgment, is about to descend
upon this people on account of their sins. I cannot shake
off this impression, and, under its power, I warn you to
prepare your souls to meet some dreadful calamity!

I know not how it will come, — in what shape, with
what power. But I feel that death is near. It seems to
me tliat I see many before me, who will soon be beyond
tlie bounds of time. I feel constrained to say this to you.
I beg you prepare to meet your God."

When he ceased, a visible shudder ran through the
multitude. Tliey rose slowly and wended their way home-
ward, many with blanched faces, and even the hardiest
with a vague sense of some startUng event impending.

1!^!

ei!

iiii i
f 1

'If ;

'in

1 i i

m. !■*

I-

CHAPTER XIV.

JOIIN AND CESiVR.

At four o'clock in the afternoon on the following day
Airs. Dubois sat in the Madonna room. Her fingers were
employed upon a bit of exquisite embroidery, over which
she bent with a contracted brow, as if her mind was
filled with anxious thought.

Adeie, robed in a French silk of delicate blue, her rich,
dark hair looped up in massive braids, sat Ustlessly, poring
over a volume of old French romance.

Suddenly rising, she threw it hastily aside, exclaiming
as she went towards an open Avindow, '< O I this intermin-
able drought 1 It makes me feel so miserable and restless.
Does it not oppress you, ma chore mere ? "

Mrs. Dubois started suddenly, as Adele spoke.

"Ah lyes. It is very wearisome," she replied.

«* Ma mere, I have disturbed you. Of what were you
thinking when I spoke ? "

" Thinking of the chateau de Rossillon and its inmates.
It is very long since we have had news of them. I am
much troubled about the dear friends. It would be like
rain on the parched ground, could I once more hear ray
uncle's voice. The good, kind old man ! "

pl;i
do
pl(

nif

thi
gei
roo
ous
Brc
so:
No
are
1
the

brU
Ila^
han
mat
wor

A
mot
to

IV
sud(

ry\

the following day

Her fingers were

)idcry, over which

if her mind was

3ate blue, her rich,
sat listlessly, poring

T aside, exclaiming
' O 1 this intermin-

lerable and restless.

>»

ele spoke.

he replied.

Of what were you

on and its inmates.

'8 of them. I am

It would be like

ince more hear ray

JUIU5IICIII.

125

"Never fear, ma mere. You shall hear it. I have a
plan that will soon take us all to Picardy. You smile, but
do I not accomplish my little schemes? Do not ask mo,
please, how I shall do it. The expedition is not wholly
matured."

" Not wholly matured, indeed ! " said Mrs Dubois, with
an incredulous smile.

"Nevertheless, it will take place, ma mere. But not
this week. In the meantime, I am going to invite the
gentlemen, who are doubtless moping in JMr. Brown's
room, as we are here, to come in and examine tiiat curi-
ously illummated missal of yours. How agreeable Mr.
Brown is, now that he is getting well ! Don't you think
so? And Mr. Norton is as good and radiant as a seraph !
No doubt, they are pining with homesickness, just as you
are, and will be glad of our society."

Adele left the room, and soon returned, accompanied by
the two individuals, of whom she had gone in search.

She placed Mr. Brown, who looked quite superb in liis
brilliantly flowered dressing-gown, in a comer of a sofa.
Having exammed the missal with interest, for a time, he
handed it to Mr. Norton and was soon engagM in an ani-
mated conversation with Mrs. Dubois, respecting various
works of ancient art, they had Tjoth seen in Europe.

Adele watched with pleasure the light kmdling in her
mother's eyes, as she went back, in memory and thouo'ht,
to other days.

Mr. Norton gazed at his friend Brown, transfigured
suddenly from the despau-ing invalid, who had lost all inter-
11*

!l.

m : I

ii I

'p.

12G

MIRAMICTII.

est in lite, to the animated being before him, with traces
indeed of languor and disease upon his person, but glowing
now with life, thought, and emotion. " A precious jewel
gathered for the crown of Ilim, who sits on the throne
above," he wliispercd to himself.

Felicitating himself with this thought, he divided his
attention between the conversation of Mrs. Dubois and
Mr. Brown, and the marvels of skill, Iab(ir, and beauty
traced by the old monk upon the pages before him.

«* I must say, INIiss Adele, that these lines and colors
are put on most ingeniously. But I cannot help thinking
those ancient men might have been better employed in trac-
ing the characters of divine truth upon the hearts of their
fellow-beings."

••True," said Adele, "had they been free to do it.
But they were shut up from the world and could not.
Illuminating missals was far better than to pass their lives
in perfect idleness and inanition."

•• Don't you think, my dear," said the missionary, who
had wisely never before questioned any member of the
family on the points of religious foil'-, '• that the cloister
life was a stftmge one to live, for men Avho professed to
have the love of God in their heartu, with a whole world
lying in sin around them, for a field to labor in? "

•' Yes, I do, and I think too many other things are
wrong about the Roman Church, but it pains my mother
to hear me speak of them," said Adele, in a low tone,
glancing at her mother.

•' Is it 80?" exclaimed the good man. Ilia face lighted

the

opi
adi
hai
sui

CX]

pn
no
in>
tin
an
no
to

tui
tio

ex
du

,„.-.. ,

MIUAMlcm.

127

c him, with traces
craon, hut glowing
' A precious jewel
sita on the throno

it, ho divided hia
Mrs. Dubois and
ltib(Jr, and beauty
before him.
se lines and colors
,nnot help thinking
r employed in trac-
thc hearts of their

eon free to do it.
Id and could not.
I to pass their lives

10 missionary, who
ly member of the
" that the cloister
I who professed to
with a whole world
labor in ? "
y other things are
it pains my mother
ilc, in a low tone,

Ilia face lighted

up with a secret satisfactiim. But he fixed his eyes upon
the book and was silent.

Just then, some one knocked on the parlor door. Adelo
opened it and beheld iSIrs. ISIcNab, — her broad figure
adorned with the brilliant chintz dress and yellow bandanna
handkerchief, filling up' the entire doorway, and her face
surrounded by tlic wide, <»ill frill, its usual framework,
expressing a curious mixture of shyness and audacity.

It was her fu-st call at the house, smce Adule's summary
process of ejection had been served upon her, and it was
not until that young lady had welcomed her cordially and
invited her to come in, that she ventured beyond tho
threshold. She then came forward, made a low courtesy,
and seating herself near the door, remarked that Bess was
not below, and hearing voices in the picture parlor, wishing
to hear from the patient, she had ventured up.

"An' how do ye find ycrsel' Mr. Brown?" said she,
turning to that gentleman. " But I needna ask the ques-
tion, sin' yer looks tell ye'rc araaist wccl."

IVL'. Brown assented to her remark upon his health, and
expressed to her liis obligations for her attentions to huu
during his illness.

" Them's naethin ;" she replied with a conscious air of
benevolence. "'Tia the buzzincss o' my life to tak' care
o' sick bodies."

"How are Mrs. Campbell's children?" inquired Mrs.
Dubois.

** All got weel, but Katy. She's mizerble enough."

♦'Has she not recovered from the measles, JNIra. jMc-
Nab?"

iijll. 1'

i'2S

.MIUAAriClII.

•'The moaslcs nro gimo, but fiunthiu' has t<cttIo(l on her
liLfhts. Slio coii^^hs like a woodchuck. Ati' I inii-it bo a
goiu', for I tolc Mrs. (/iiwincU, I vviulna stay a bit, but
wad come buck, immediate."

Ah hIic rose to <rn, she cauujht a sij^lit of several objects
on the hnvn below, tliat rooted hci^'to the spot.

" Why thor'8 Muiuuiychoi^," •he exclauncd, "leading a
gran' black charger, wi' a tall bravo youth a wulkin' by
lii-s 8ido. "Wha can he be ? "

At that moment a low, clear laugh riiu', out upon tho
air, reaching tho cars of the little corapiny assembled in
the parlor.

At the sound, Mr. Brown's pale face changed to a per-
fectly ashen hue, then flushed to a deep crimson. IIo
Btarted to his feet, and exclaimed, "John Lansdowne !
brave fellow ! "

It waa even so. John i cd Ca3sar had reached their
destination.

tall
<

dov

my
By

son
hor

rem
The

evei

Lai

Bplc

elce

fT"

hii3 HCttlod on lior

An' I miijtt bo a

la stay a bit, but

of several objects
3 spot.

hncil, " leadiii;^ a
utli a walkin' by

mu' out upon tho
lui" assembled in

changed to a por-
Rp ci'inison. IIo
olin Lanjidownc I

ad reached their

CHAPTER XV.

THAVELLINO IN NEW nnUNSWICK.

The foUowin.i,' morning, Mv. Xorton, :Mr. Somcrs, alias
Mr. Brown and John Lansdowno were sitting together,
talking of the route from to Minunichi.

•« You must have had a tedious journey, Mr. Lans-
downc," observed the missionary.

" By no means, sir. Never had a more glorious time in
ray life. The reach through the forest was magnificent.
By tlic way, Ned, I shot a wolf. I '11 tell you how it was,
sometime. But how soon shall you feel able to start for
home?"

"In two or three weeks. Dr. Wright says," replied
Mr. Somers.

" You must not take the road again, young gentleman,"
remarked Mr. Norton, " until we have had a fall of rain.
Tlie country is scorched with heat beyond anything I
ever knew. Fine scenery on the St. John Kiver, Mr.
Lansdowne."

" Wonderfully fine and varied ! ^ '^c the imfolding of a
B^lendid panorama! In fact, it nearly consoled me for the
sleepless nights and horribly cooked diimcrs."

" Ah ! well — . I 'vo had some experience while passing

! i

! ii

■(■■

■i

■1

! '!5.

' n \
11!

'ill

i 'ii '

I k \

!■■

II* 1^'

130

MIR.\MICIII.

tip and down in these; parts. In Rome localities, tho coun-
try is pretty well po[uiIated," Hiiid Mr. Norton witlui hrouJ
SMiile.

'♦ I Oiin certify to that r^co^fraphical faet," said Jolin
laii;^hin<if. •» One Jii.t^ht, after retiriuj^, I found that a lar^^e
ami active family of niico liatl taken previou.i sliares in tlio
straw cot furnislied inc. Astirrinj^ time, tliey had, I asanro
yon. The followin;^ ni-^lit, I was roused up from a ten
horse-power slnml)er, by a little million of enterprising
insects, — well, — their stylo of locomotion, thou:j;!i irr('jj;ii-
lar, accomplishes rcmarkai)lo results. By tho way, I doubt
that story of a pair of tleas, harncsacd into u tiny eluu'iot
and broken into a trot."

" So do I," said jNIr. Norton. «* 'T-is a libel on them.
They conld n't go such a humdrum gait."

" That reminds me," saitl Mr. Somers, "of a very
curious and original painting I saw in Eiigland. It repre-
sented tho ghost of a flea."

«• Ridiculous ! " exclaimed John. " You arc romancing,
Ned."

"I am stating a fact. It was painted by that eccen-
tric ge.iius, Blake, upon a panel, and exhibited to mo by
an aquaintancc, who was a friend of the artist."

«« \Vliat was it like?" eaid John.

" It was a naked figure with a strong body and a short
neck, with burning eyes longing for moisture, and a faco
worthy of a murderer, holding a bloody cup in its clawed
hands, out of which It. seemed eager to drink. The shape
was strange enough and tho coloring splendid, — a kind of

ar
pe
\vi

fu<
sal

liv

inc
ha

Di
Re

SU(

eei
fri(
on

cle

n"\-'

MiuAArinri.

ini

Idciilitic.'', tho coun-
Nurtun with 11 hroud

il flirt," said Joliti
I fouiul that a lur^o
•cvitjujt Hhiiros in tlio
5, they hull, I lusauro
iscd lip from a ton
ion of cntorpri.-iinjj
tion, thouujh irrcj^ii-
[Jy the way, I (l(jul)t
into a tiny chariot

[■-is a libel on them.

iomors, " of a very
Etiglunil. It rcpre-

You arc romancing,

ited by that ccccn-
exhibitcd to mc by
:ic artist."

[g body and a short
moisture, and a face
ly cup in its clawed
} drink. The .shape
plendid, — a kind of

f,distening f?rcen and dusky K(.1.1, — beautifully varuishod.
It was in fact tlio Ht»intualizatiitn of a Ilea."

•• What n conception ! " exeluiuud Mr. Xorton. " The
artlst'H imagination must have been etinuilated by intense
personal sulTerings from said insect. Tho savage little
wretch. How did you manage the diet, Mr. Lansdowne? '»
conthuied the missionary, a smile twinkling all over hid
face.

«• Ah 1 yes, the table d 'hutr.. I fonnd Q^^^ and jjotatooa
safe, and devoted myself to them, I was always ^uro to
get snagged, when I tried anything else."

'« Verily, there is room fur improvement in the mode of
living, among His Majesty's loyal subjects of this Prov-
ince. I should say, that in most respects, they arc about
half a centiuy behind the age," said Mr. Norton.

" How did you ascertain I was here, John?" inquired
Mr. Somcrs.

" I learned at Fralcricton that you had left with ]\[r.
Dubois, and I obtained directions there, for my route.
Really," added John, "you are fortunate to have found
such an establishment as this to be laid up in."

'• Yes. God be thanlicd for the attention and care re-
ceived in tliis house and for the kindness of this good
friend," said Mr. Somcrs, laying liis hand affectionately
on the missionary's ann.

"But this Mummydiog," said John, breaking into a
clear, musical laugh, «' that I came across last night. Ho
is a curiosity. That of course, isn't liia real name.
^Vlxatisit?"

1^ I

' 1

132

MIRAMICHI.

■I

!-l^:;

I !■

" He goes by no other name here," replied Mr. Norton.
*' I met liira," said John, " ii few rods from here, and asked
him if he could inform mo Avhere jNIr. Dubois lived.

* Well, 8 'pose I ken,' he said. After waiting a few min-
utes for some direction, and none forthcoming, I asked,

• will you have the goodness to show me the house, sir? '

• S 'pose you hev particiler business there,' he inquired-

♦ Yes. I have, sir.' « Well ! I s'pose ye arc goin' fur to
see hur ? '

" ' Hur 1 ' I exclaimed, my mind immediately reverting to
the worthy ancient, who assisted Aaron in holding up the
hands of Moses on a certain occasion, mentioned in the old
Testament. ' Hur 1 who is Hur ? I am in pursuit of a
gentleman, — a friend of mine. I know no other person
here.' ' O well 1 come then ; I '11 show ye.' As he waa
walking along by Cassar's side, I heard him say, apparently
to himself, ' He 's a gone 'un, any way.' "

*' He is a queer specimen," said Mr. Norton. "And
now I think of it, Mr. Somers, IVIicah told me this mom-
in<r, that a jrood horse will be brought into the settlement,
by a friend of his, in about a week. He thinks, if you
like the animal, he can make a bargain and get it for you."

♦'Thank you for your trouble about it, my dear sir,"
fcplied Mr. Somers.

*' Two \teek8 then, Ned," said John, *' before the Doc-
tor will let you start. That will give me ample o;pportu-
nity to explore the length of the jVIiramichi Riv'cf. What
are the fisliiag privileges in this region ? "

'< Fine, — remarkably good I " said the missionary.

H'"'

MlUAiMICni.

133

plied Mr. Norton.
)m here, and asked
[r. Dubois lived,
'^aiting a few min-
icoming, I asked,
le the house, sir? '
lere,' he inquired,
ye are goin' fur to

[liately reverting to
in holding up tho
3ntioned in the old
a in pursuit of a
;v no other person
ye.' As he was
im say, apparently

. Norton. "And
old me this mom-
ato the settlement,
He thinks, if you
nd get it for you."
; it, my dear sir,"

*' before the Doc-
me ample Q;pportu-
chi Rivcf. What

3 missionary.

In the course of a few minutes, John, witli the assistance
of Mv. Norton, arranged u plan for a fishing and huntin-r
excursion, upon which, if Micah's semces could be obtain!
cd, he was to start the next day.

After inquiring for the most feasible way of transmit-
ting a letter, he retired to relieve the anxiety of his parents
by informing them of the success of his journey. As
might have been expected, after a somewhat detaUed
account of Iiis travels, tlio remainder of his epistle homo
was filled with the efforvescencd of his excitement at
havmg found Mr. Somers, and thus triumphantly ac
comph&hcd the object of his expedition.

Beneath the fliish and foam of John's youthful sph-it,
there were depths of hidden tenderness and truth. He
was warmly attached to his uncle. The difference in a-e
between them was not great, and even that, was consid-
erably chminished by the peculiar traits of each. John pos-
sessed the hardier features of character. He had developed
a strong, determined will and otlicr granite qualities, which
promised to make liim a tower of defence to those that
might shelter themselves beneath his wing. These traits
contrasting with his own, JMr. Somers appreciated and
admu'cd. They imparted to him a strengthening in-
fluence. John, on the other hand, was chai-mcd with the
genial disposition, the mobile and brilliant intellect of his
uncle, and the ready sympathy he extended him in his
pursuits. In short, they were drawn together in that
peculiar, but not uncommon bond of friendship, symbol-
ized by the old intimacy of the ivy and the oak.
12

I ■

Hi:

^','

CHAPTER XVI.

THE FLO"\VER UNFOLDING.

TiiERE is nothing in human life more lovely than the
transition of a young girl from cliildhood into womanhood.
It suggests the springtimcr of the year, when the leaf
buds are partly opened and the tender blossoms wave in
the genial sunshine ; when the colors so airy and delicate
are set and the ethereal odors are wafted gently to the
senses ; when earth and air are filled with sweet prophe-
cies of the ripened splendor of summer. It is like the mo-
ments of early morn, when the newly risen sun tlu-ows
abroad his light, giving token of the majestic glories of noon-
day, while the earth exhales a dewy freshness and the air
is enchanted by the songs of birds, just wakened from their
nests. It recalls the overture of a grand musical drama in-
troducing the joyous melodies, the wailing minors, the noble
chords and sublime symphonies of the glorious harmony.
The development of the maiden is like the opening of
some lovely flower-bud. As life unfolds, the tender smile
and bliish of cliildliood mhigle wth the grace of maidenly
repose ; the upturned, radiant eye gathers new dcptlis of
thought and emotion; the delicate features, the wavy,
pliant form, bogin to reveal their wealth of grace and
beauty.

an
m(
th
foi
ph
a]
na
of

Sci
tra

fori
the
a ft
was
whi
mai
ing
visi
fore
I
Ilei
Tni
feat

n-^-.:

MIRASnCIII.

135

3 lovely than tlio
into womanhood,
r, when the leaf
blossoms wave in
airy and delicate
ed gently to the
th sweet prophe-
It is like the mo-
risen sun tlu'ows
ic glories of noon-
Imess and the air
akcned from their
musical drama in-
minors, the noble
iorious harmony.
;c the opening of
, the tender smile
grace of maidenly
srs new deptlis of
itures, the wavy,
1th of grace and

Sometimes, the ovcrstimulatcd hud is forced into intense
and imnatural life and bloom. Sometimes, the develop-
ment is slow and almost imperceptible. Fed gently by
the light and dews of heaven, the flower, at length, circles
forth in perfected beauty. Here, the airy grace and
playfulness of a Eosalind, or the purity and goodness of
a Desdemona is developed ; there, the intense, passionate
nature of a Juliet, or the rich intellect and lofty elegance
of a Portia.

But, how brief is that bright period of transition I
Scarcely can the artist catch the beautiful creation and
transfer it to the canvas, ere it has changed, or faded.

"How small a part of time they share,
That are so wondrous sweet and fair ! "

Adele Dubois had just reached this period of life. Her
form was ripening into a noblo and statuesque symmetry ;
the light in her eyes shot forth from darkening depths ;
a faint bloom was creeping into her cheek ; a soft smile
was wreathing those lips, wrought by nature, into a some-
what hauglity curve; the frank, careless, yet imperious
manner was chastening into a calmer grace ; a transform-
ing glory shone around her, making her one of those
visions that sometimes waylay and haunt a man's life
forever.

Her physical and intellectual growth were symmetrical.
Hor mind was quick, penetrative, and in constant exercise.
Triitliful and upright, her soul slione through her form and
features, as a clear ^ame, phieed withm a transparent vase,

■I:

136

MinAMicnr.

if
j:|f

brinpjs out the ailornmcnts of flower, leaf, and gem, with
which it is enriched.

In a brown stone house, in the city of P., State of ,

there hangs in one of the chambers a picture of Adelc,
rei)resenting her as she was at this period of her life. It
is full of beauty and elegance. Sun-painting was an art
unknowTi in the days when it was executed. But the
modern photographist could hardly have produced a pic-
ture so exquisitely trutliful as well as lovely.

hii
rif
in

'I!!

1 : '

sk
cai
pr
Hi
be
wi

g"
an

a i

let

I 'I' 1

00^

foi
Tl
tei
an

rr^...

loaf, and gem, with

fP., State of ,

a 2)icturc of Adelc,
fiod of her life. It
painting was an art
executed. But the
ive produced a pie-
)vcly.

CHAPTER XVn.

TOE DEER IIUNT.

Eakly in the morning, John Lansdowne, having donned
his hunting suit and taken a hasty breakfast, seized hia
rifle and joined Micali, already waiting for him on the lawn
in front of the house.

He was equipped in a tunic-like shirt of dressed buck-
skin, with leggings and moccasins of the same material,
each curiously embroidered and fringed. The suit was a
present from his mother, — procured by her from Canada.
His head was siu-mountcd by a blue military cap and his
belt adorned with powder pouch and hunting-knife. Micah
with a heavy blanket coat of a dingy, brown color, leg-
gings of embroidered buckskin, skull cap of gray fox skin,
and Indian moccasins ; wore at his belt a butcher knife in
a scabbard, a tomaliawk, otter-skin pouch, containing bul-
lets and other necessaries for such an expedition.

In the dim morning light they walked briskly to a little

cove in the river, where Micah's birchen canoe lay, and

found it already stored with supplies for the excursion.

There were bags of provisions, cooking utensils, a small

tent, neatly folded, Micah's old Dutch rifle, fishmg taclde,

and other ailicles of minor account.

12*

138

MIRAMICIII.

i-'!i

'•jii i

13 ^

i' i

ill! ^ '

il!

! li

li'i'

" Ever travilcd mucli in a canoo? " inquii-cd MicaU.

" None at all," rei)lie(l John.

"Well, then I'll jest mention, yeou need n't jump into
it, like a catamcount rampagin' artcr fodder, Yeou step
in kinder keerfid and set deown and don't move reound
more'n yc ken help. It's a mighty crank little critter, I
tell ye. ' T would be tolahle unconvenicut to upset and git
eour cargo turned into the stream."

"It would indeed!" said John. "I'll obey orders,
Mummychog."

J(jh.i entered the canoe with tact, ajiparently to Blicah'a
satisfaction and soon they were gliding down the river,
now, owing to the long^ontinued drought, considerably
shrunk within its banks.

Just as night gave its parting salute to the advancing
day, the voyagers passed into a region densely wooded
down to the water's edge. Oaks, elms, and maples, birches
of different sorts, wiUows and cranberry, grew in wild
luxuriance along the margin, tingal with the rich hues of
autumn. A thousand spicy odors exhaled from the frost-
bitten plants and shrubs, fiUing the senses with an mtoxi-
cating incense. When the rising sun shot its level rays
through the trees, the clear stream quivered with <rolden
an-ows. *

John viewed the scenes through which they glided with
eager eye.

Micah's countenance expressed intense satisfaction. He
sat bolt upright in the stem of the canoe, steering with his
padcUe, his keen bullet eyes dancing from side to side exam-
mmg every object as they passed along. Both were silent

yoi
oUl

801

cav
Mi

anc

pro
yoi
of
did

saic
due
the
day
vati
off
onci

m"..

MniA:\riCTii.

1.19

iiquii-cd MicaU,

need n't jump into
fodder, Yeou step
don't move reound
rank little critter, I
ant to upset and git

"I'll obey orders,

parently to IMicah's
g down the river,
»ught, considerably

5 to the advancing
n densely wooded
ind maples, birches
srry, grew in wild
h the rich hues of
led from the frost-
ses with an intoxi-
shot its level rays
vered with golden

li they glided with

satisfaction. He
, steering with his
side to side exam-
Both were silent.

At length, Micah exclaimed, "Well, Captin', this is
the pooticat way of livin' I know on, any lieow. My 'pinion
is that human natur waa meant to live reound on rivers and
in the woods, or vyagin' on lakes, and sech. I never
breathe jest nateral and lively, till I git eout o' bctweea
hcouse walls into the free air."

" 'T is a glorious life, Mioah I I agree in it."
"Ilark!" said Micah I Got ycr piece ready? INIaybo
you '11 hev' a chance to bring sumthin' deown. I heerd an
old squaw holler jest neow."

"I'm ready," said John. "But I didn't hear any
sound. What was it like ? "

"O! kinder a scoldiu' seound. Cawcawee ! caw-
cawee I Don't ycr hear the critter reelin' of it off ? Ila I
'tis dyin' away, though. We shall hear it agin, by
and by."

" An old squaw," said John, as the excitement the
prospect of a shot had raised in his mind subsided. " Do
you have such game as that, iu Miramichi? I've heard
of witches flying on broomsticks through the air, but
did n't know before tluit squaws are in the habit of skylark-
ing about in that way."

"Well, ye '11 know it by observation, before long,"
said Micah, with a 4io'it twitch of one eye. "Them's
ducks from Canada, o goin' south'ard, ai they allcrs do in
the fall o' the year. They keep up tliat ere scoldin' seound,
day and night. Cawcawee 1 cawcawee ! kind of an aggra-
vatin' holler I But I like it, ruther. It allcrs 'minds me
of a bustin' good feller that was deown here from Canada
once."

'« 1 •

II ,

li <

I 'l

il; i '

I '.M I

'in

>i !

140

MlRAMICin.

♦< IIow remind you of him?" inquired John.
•'Well, ho cam' dcown on bissiniss, but he ran afowl
o' me, and wc was coutin the wooda together, consid'able.
IIo used to act eoutside the camp, bright, starlight
nights, and sing songs, and sccli. He had a powerful,
sweet v'iec, and it allcrs 'pcarcd to me as cf every kind
of a livin' thing hushed up and listened, when he sung
o' nights. He could reel off most anything you can think
on. There was one Icind of a mournful ditty he sung, and
once in a while he brung in a chorus, — cawcawec I
cawcawee, — jest like what them ducks say, only, the way
he made it seound, was soft and mellcr and doleful-like. I
liked to hear him sing that, only he was so solemn arter
it, and would set and fetch up great long sythes. And
once I asked him what made him so sober and take on so,
arter singin' it. lie said, INIicah, my good lad, when I
war a young man, I had a little French wife, that could
run like a hind and sing like a wild bird. Well, she died.
The very last tiling she sung, was, that 'ere song*. When
I see how he felt, I never asked him another question.
lie sot and sythed a spell and then got up, took a most
oncommon swig of old Jamaky and turned into his blanket."
Just as Micah ended tliis account, John caught sight of •
a large bird at a distance directly ahead of them, and his
attention became entirely absorbed. It took flight from a
partly decayed tree on the northern bank, and commenced
wheeling around, above the water. The canoe was rapidly
uearing this promising game.

ISIicah said not a word, but observed, in an apparently
careless mood, the movements of hia young companion.

an
zii
m
wi
up

hi.

pic

siz
nic
wit

ain

sea

jou

(
).

can

epo
mu!

MIRAMICIIi.

141

;(1 John.

I but l»c ran afowl

,'ctlicr, consiJ'ablc.

bright, starlight
c had a powerful,
e aa cf every kind
icd, when he Bung
ling you can think
ditty ho sung, and
irus, — cawcawcc I
say, only, the way
md doleful-like. I
as so solemn arter
ong sythes. And
3r and take on so,
good lad, when I

wife, that could

Well, she died,
ere song. When
another question.

up, took a most
I into his blanket."
m caught sight of '
of them, and his
took flight from a
r, and commenced
canoe was rapidly

in an apparently
ag companion.

Suddenly, tlie bird poised himself for an instant in tlio
air, then eloHcd his wings and shot downward. Awliiz-
zing sound I then a plash, and he disappeared beneath fbo
Hirfiioo, throwing up the water into sparkling foani-
wre.-iths. He was absent but a moment, and then boro
upward into the air a large fish.

John's shot took him on the wing, and he dropped dead,
his claws yet grasping the fish, on the water's edge.

"Kuther harnsum than otherwise I " exclaimed Mioah.
•' You 've got your dinner, Captin'."

And he put the canoe rapidly towards the river-bank, to
pick up the game.

They found it to be a large fish-hawk, with a good-
sized salmon in its fierce embrace. It was a noble speci-
men of the bird, tinted with brown, ashy white, and blue,
with eyes of deep orange color.

" Well, that are a prize," said Micah. "Them birds
ain't common in these parts, bein' as they mostly live on
sea-coasts. But this un was on his way seouth, and his
journey has ended quite unexpected."

Saying wliich, he threw both bird and fish into the
canoe, and darted for^vard on the river asrain.

"When shall we reach the deer feeding-ground you
spoke of, Micah ?

"O! not afore night," said Micah. "And then we
must n't go anyst it till mornin'."

" I suppose you have brought do^vn some scores of deer
in your hunting raids, Micali? "

" Why, yes, — takin' it by and large, I've handled over

1.*^

ill

'ill!

142

MIRAMICIII.

consid'ttblo many of 'cm. 'Tis a critter I hate to kill,
Captin', though I s'poso it scounds soft to say so. Ef
't wan't for thinkin' they '11 git picked ofF, anyway, I dimno
but I should let 'cm alone altogether."

♦♦ Why do you dislike to kill them?"

♦• Well, to begin with, they 'ro a harnsum critter. They
hev sceh graceful ways with *em, kinder grand ones tew,
specially them bucks, with their crests reared up agin the
sky, lookin' so bold and free like. And them bright littlo
does, — sometimes they hev sech a skcerd, tender look in
their eyes, — and I 'v seen the tears roll out on 'era, when
they lay wounded and disabled like, jest like a human
critter. It allcrs makes me feel kind o' puggetty to see
that."

They made a noon halt, in the shadows cast by a clump
of silver birches, and did ample justice to the provision
flupplied from the pantry of the Dubois house.

At four o'clock they proceeded onward towards the
deer hunt. John listened with unwearied interest to
Micah's stories of peril and hair-breadth 'scapes, by Hood,
field, and forest, gathering many valuable hints in the
science of woodcraft from the practised hunter.

Just at dark, thoy reached a broad part of the stream,
and selected their camping-ground. '

The tent was soon pitched, a fire of brushwood kindled
and the salmon broiled to a relish that an epicure could
not have cavilled at. The table, a flat rock, was also
garnished with white French rolls, sliced ham, brown
bread, blocks of savory cheese, and tea, smoking hot.

1
the
oft
oft
loaj
ho
thci
cnv

(

ofl

who
<

cau
toi
col(

ye.

Btrc

rigl

and

le:

dri:
(

tlm

o't

is (

Ofc

it's

you

n^.,^'

MIRAMIcm.

143

tcr I Imto to kill,!
ft to say 80. Ef
', anyway, I dimno ji

isum critter. They
r grand ones tew,
reared up agin tho
, thera bright littlo
rd, tender look in
1 out on 'em, when
jest like a human
o' puggetty to see

vs cast by a clump
3 to the provlsiou
house.

ward towards tho
caricd interest to
'scapes, by flood,
lablc hints in the
lunter.
art of the stream,

brushwood kindled
; an epicure could
at rock, was also
liccd ham, brown
smoking hot.

The sylvan scene, — the moon shedding its light around,
the low music of the gently rippling waves, tho spicy odor
of the burning cedar, the snow-white clouds and dccj) bluo
of the sky mirrored in the stream, made It a place lit at
least for rural divinities. Pan might have looked in, — ah 1
ho is dead, — his ghost then might have looked in upon
them from behind some old gnarled tree, with u frown of
envy at this intrusion upon his ancient domain.

On the following morning, at tho first faint glimmering
of light, Micoh was alert. lie shook our young hcro'a
Hhmililcr and woke him from a pleasant dream.

" Neow 's the time, Captin'," said Micah, speaking in a
cautious undertone, '* neow's tho time, of wo do it at all,
to nab them deer. While your gittin' rigged and takin' a
cold bite, 1 '1 tell ye tho lay o' things. Yo see, don't
ye, that pint o' land ahead on us, a juttin' out into tho
stream? "Well, we've got to put the canoe on the water
right away, hustle in the things, and pcrcedc just as whist
and keerful as we ken, to that pint. Jest beyend that,
I expect the animils, when day's fairly up, will come to
drink. And there 's where we' 11 get a shot at 'em."

" Cut what makes you expect they '11 come to drink at
that particular place, IMicah? "

♦' You see that pooty steep hill, that slopes up jest back
o' the pint o' land, don't ye? Well, behind that hill which
is steeper *n it looks to be, there 'a a largish, level piece
of greound that 'a been burnt over within a few years, and
it 'a grown up to tall gross and got a number o' clumps of
young trees on it, and it 'a 'bout surreounded by a lot o'

r M

1^'
5 I

i; i

■•,1

.4 "':"

144

iMIKAMICtll.

nm^tcr rocky l.illd. Tlwit 'n (he focJin' grcound. There's

a ilooi, gor-o cut right inter th.it hill, buck o the pint.

The gorge has a po^.ty 8,no.,th rocky bed. In the spring |

o' the year, there 'h a bt jk runn through there ami pours

inter the river jcnt below. IJut it 's all dry neow, and the

deer, as a gcn'al thing scramble out of their feedin' place

into this gorge and foUcr it deown to the river to git their

drink. It bringa 'em cout je=)t below the pint. We have

got ncow to crosa over to the pint, buggin' the bank, bo

the critters aha n't see uh, and take a shot from there. Git

yer piece ready, Captin.' Ef there 'a tew, or more, I '11

Lev the fust ahot and you the aecond. Don't apeak, artcr

we git on to the pint, the loastest word."

•♦ I undcratand," said John, aa ho examined hit. rifle, to
see that all waa rightf

•• Now for it," said Micah, aa having fmiahed their ar-
rangeracnta, they entered the eanoc.

Silently, they paddled along, sheltered from observation
by the little wooded promontory and following as nearly as
possible the crankling river aa it indented into the land
In a few minutes, they landed and proceeded noiselesaly to
get a view of the bank below. •

After a momcnfa reconnoitre, John turned bis face
towarda MIcuh with u loJv of blank diaappointment.

But Micah looked cool and expectant. He merely
iwinted up the rocky gr,rge and said under his breath —

- 'T aint time to expect 'em yet. The wind, what there
M on .t, ,a favorable tew,- it blows right in our faces and
cantkerryanyameU of ua to 'em. Neovr hide yourself

lri'.;li
linol

I
cad
Hcru
com

J
oust
they
The
doin
valh
cage
broi
boui

It
the
soor
draii
antl(

\
the I
fell
pen(

A
ing,
drip
spra
spet

rri

Mn.'AMKIII.

145

greound. There's
, back 'o the pint,
-th III the Bpring
gh there and pours
dry ncow, and the
their f'ccdin' phico
le river to git their
he i>int. We have
,'gin' the Lank, so
it from there. Git
tew, or more, I 'U
Don't apeak, artcr

luiincd hit) rifle, to

finished their nr-

I from observation
jwing as nearly aa
cd into the land,
edcd noiselessly to

•

turned his face
ipointment.
int. He merely
r his breath —
wind, what there
t in our faces and
ow hide yourself

rlirht nway. ICoop near luc, Captin', so that we ken make
Iniotions to ciich other."

In a few moniontsi they had secured their ambuscade,
each lying on the ground at full length, concealed by low,
scrubby trees. IJy a slight turn of the head, each could
conunand a view up the gorge for a considerable distance.

Just as the sun began to show his broad, red disc in the
oast, new light shot forth from the eyes of the hunters, as
they perceived a small herd coming down the rocky pathway.
Tlio creatures bounded along with a wild and graceful free-
dom, until they reached the debouehe of the pass into the
valley. There they paused, — scanned the scene with
eager eyes and snuffed the morning breeze. The wind
brought no tale of their enemies, close at hand, and they
bounded on fearlessly to the river's brink.

It was apparently a family party, a noble buck leading
the group, followed by a doe and two young hinds. They
soon had their noses in the stream. The buck took large
draughts and then raising '< s Imnghty front, tossed his
antlers, as if in defiance, , the face of the god of day.

M.cab's eye was at ti,^ riHe. A crack and a whizz m
the air. The noble reattiire gave one mighty bound and
fell dead. The bv^i hud entered his broatl forehead and
penetrated to the brain.

At the report of the rifle, the doe, who was still drink-
ing, gave a bound in the air, scattering the spray from her
dripping mouth, wheeled with the rapidity of lightning, nm'
sprang towards the gorge. But John's instantaneous soot
sped through the air and the animal fell dead from her
13

r'-Ar^^''^Sfi--^'ife-^5;-siiH^sr*'->«-*!:!j ■ ,, v?.-

It.

I !:

146

MIRAMICni.

second bound, the ball having entered the heart. In the
midst of their triumph, John and Micah watched, with re-
lenting eyes the two hinds, while they took, as on the winga
of the wind, their forlorn flight up the fatal pathway.

Having slung their booty on the boughs of a wide-
branching tree, and taken some refreshment from the sup-
plies in the canoe, Micah declared himself good for a scram-
ble up the hill to the feeding-ground, a proposition John
readily accepted.

Over rock, bush and brier, up hill and down, for five
hours, they pursued their way with unmitigated zeal and
energy. They scaled the hill, cut by the gorge,— ap-
proaching, cautiously, its brow, overlooking the deer
haunt. But they could perceive no trace of the herd.

"It'sabeout as I expected," said Micah, " them two
little hinds we skeered, gin the alarm to the rest on 'era
and they've all skulked off to some covit or ruther.
S'pose Captin', we jest make a surkit reound through the
rest of these hills, maybe we '11 light on 'em agin."
•' Agreed," responded John.

They skirted the enclosure, but without a chance for
another shot. As, about noon, they were rapidly de-
scending the gorge, on their way back to the promontory,
the scene of their morning success, Micah proposed that
they should have " a nice brile out of that fat buck at the
pint, and then put for the settlement."

" Not yet," said John. " Why, we are just getting

into this glorious life. What 'a your huny, Mummjchog?°

"Well, ye see," said- Micah, "I can't be gone fmm

hv
wi

dis
an

cor
noi
bri
ter
wa

ori
fre
wit
tim

no{
ppe

bef(

1:3

exp

to r

he]

war

rrt '•'

tlie heart. In the
1 watched, with re- jfl
)ok, as on the winga ||
atal pathway,
jougha of a wide-
ment from the sup-
If good for a scrarn-
a proposition John

and down, for five
mitigated zeal and
y the gorge, — ap-
irlooking the deer
!C of the lierd.
tlicah, " them two
;o the rest on 'era
! covit or ruther.
30und through the
'em agin."

hout a chance for
were rapidly de
3 the promontory,
cah proposed that
lat fat buck at the

5 are just getting
y.Mummychog?"
m't be gone from

MIKAMICni.

I*;

hum, no longer neow, any heow. Next week, I'll try it
with ye agin, if ye say so."

John acceded reluctantly to the arrangement, though his
disappointment was somewhat mitigated by the prospect of
another similar excursion.

The meal prepared by Micah, for their closing repast,
considering the circumstances, might have been pro-
nounced as achieved in tlie highest style of art. Under a
bright sky, shadowed by soft, quivering birch-trees, scat-
tering broken lights all over their rustic table, never surely
was a dinner eaten with greater gusto.

Life in the forest I ended all too soon. But thy mem-
ories live. Memories redolent of j'outh, health, strength,
freedom, and beauty, come through the long years, laden
with dews, sunshine, and fragrance, and scatter over the
time-worn spirit refreshment and delight.

As our voyagers were paddling up stream in the after-
noon, in. answer to questions put by John to Micah, re-
specting the Dubois family, he remarked —

"Them Doobyce's came to the kentry, jest ten year
before I did. Well, I 've heerd say, the Square came fust,
i; 2 did n't set himself up for anything great at all, but
exploredreound the region a spell, and was kinder pleasant
to most anybody he came across. Somehow, or 'nuther,
he had a kind of a kingly turn with him, that seemed jest
as nateral as did to breathe, and ye could see that he
warn't no ways used to sech a wildcat sort of a place as
Miramichi was then."

" I wonder that he remained here," said John.

'.■- i-:.

_^-' rtW«P>*« 'WW^p^»v'5fc((it,^j»»,y3j.>m, ..1. rt«o«*tMte=«Bitri .

148

MIRAJIICm.

'I
1'

il f^!

'«'!

i."

*' Well, the pesky critters reound here rutlicr took to
hipi, and ho bought a great lot o' land and got workmen
and built a house, and fetched his wife and baby hero. So)
they 've lived here ever since. But they 're no more like
the rc?t o' the people in these parts, than I 'm like you,
and it has allera been a mystery to me why they should
stay. I'jut I s'pose they know tlicir own bissinisa best.
They 're allors givin' to the poor, and they try to make tlie
settlers more decent every way, but 'taint been o' much
use."

After a long, meditative pause, Micah said, '« Ncow
Captin', I want yeou to answer me one question, honestly.
I aint a goiu' to ask any thing sarcy. Did ye ever in yer
life see a harnsumer, witchincr critter than Miss Adele is ? "
Micah fixed his keen eye triumphantly upon our hero,
as if he was aware beforehand that but one response could
be made. John surprised by tlie suddenness of the ques-
tion, and somewhat confused, fur tlie moment, by a vague
consciousness that his companion had found the key to his
tlioughts, hesitated a little, but soon recovered sufficiently
to piirry the stroke.

, *• You don't mean to say, IMIcah, that there 's any person
for beauty and bewitchingncss to be compared with Mrs

McNab?"
•" Whew-ew," uttered Micah, while every line and feature

in his countenance expj^sscd ineffiible scorn. He gave

several extra strokes of the paddle with great cncriry.

Suddenly, his grim features broke into a genial smile.
"Well, Captin'," he said," ef yeou choose to play

'po!
bel

I)u

<
(

sha

J
the
car
the

JIIIiAMIcm.

119

crc rutlicr took to
and got workmen
ml baby hero. Sol
y 're no more like
lan I'm like you,
c why they should
iwn bissiniss best.
(jy try to make tlie
taint been o' much

;ah said, " Ncow
r(uestion, honestly.
Did yc ever in ycr
m Miss Adelc is ? "
ly upon our hero,
)ne response could
nness of the qucs-
iment, by a vague
und the key to his
mered sufficiently

there's any person
rnparcd with Mrs.

iry line and feature
scorn. He gave
th great energy.
• a genial smile,
clioosc to play

'possum that way, yc ken. But ye needn't expect me to
believe in them tricks, cos I 'm an old 'un."

John laughed and replied, " Mummychog, Miss Adelo
Dubois is a perfect beauty. I can't deny it."

" And a parfeck angel tew," said Micah.

" I don't doubt it," said John, energetically. " When
shall we reach the settlement, IMicali ? "

" Abcout three hours arter moonrise."

And just at that time our voyagers touched the spot
they had started from the day before, and unloaded thsir
(■:irgo. They were received at the Dubois house ^ ith
the compli-nents due to successful hunters.

_,^'>ti'iifpsnyiifvtm.'=mimmiv^.

I .1

4 <

t;1

'; Mi

CHAPTER xV^n.

THE PEKSECUTION.

On the following afternoon, Mr. Norton preached to a
larjicr and far more attentive audience than usual. The
solemn warnings he had uttered and the fearful presenti-
ments of cominr evil he had expressed on the last occasion
of assembling at the Grove, had been conmiunicated from
mouth to mouth. Curiosity, and perhaps some more
elevated motive, had drawn a numerous crowd of people
together to hear him.

He spoke to them plainly of their sinful conduct, partic-
ularizing the vices of intemperance, profanity, gambling,
and Sabbath-breaking, to which many of them were ad-
dicted. He earnestly besought them to turn from these
evil ways and accept pardon for their past transgressions
and mercy through Christ. He showed them the conse-
quences of their refusal to listen to the teachings and
counsels of the book of God, and, at last, depicted to
them, with great vividness, the awful glories and terrors
of the day of final accoui

" Wlicn the Judge shall come in splendor,
Strict to mark and just to render." ^

them
offw
eouh
upon
echoi
injur
accci
Judg
and 1

A
upon
face
pcoi
rcma
even

ISI
undo
the c
awaj

of a]

an I

open
t(

dowr
cent,
her 1
Jo
be sc

on preached to a
Imn usual. The
! fearful presenti-

the last occasion
nimunicatcd from
laps some more

crowd of peoplt'!

1 conduct, partic-
Panity, gambling,
tf them were ad-
turn from these
ist transgressions
1 them the conse-
e teachings and
last, depicted to
ories and terrors

(lendor,

MIUAMICUI.

151

As his mind dilated with the awful grandeur of the
theme, his thoughts kindled to a white heat, and he flung
off words that seemed to scorch and burn even the callous
souls of those time-hardened transgressors. lie poured
upon their ears, in tones of trumpet power and fulness,
echoed from the hills around, the stern threatenings of
injured justice ; he besought Ihem, in low, sweet, thrilling
accents, to yield ihemsolvcs heart and life to the Great
Judge, who will preside in the day of impartial accounts,
and thus avert his wrath and^be happy forever.

At the close, he threw himself for a few moments
upon the rustic bench appropriated to him, covered his
face with his hands and seemed in silent prayer. The
pcoi V Mivoluntarily bent their heads in sympathy and
remained motionless. Then, he rose and gave them the
evening benediction.

Mr. Somers, his nephew, and Adelc had been sitting
under the shade of an odorous balm poplar, on the sftirt of
the crowd, at first watching its movements, and then drawn
away from these observations, by the impressive discourse
of Mr. Norton.

" What a clear, melodious voice he has ! " said John in
an undertone to Adele, as the missionary finished the
opening service.

"Wait, until you hear its trumpet tones, ^Ir. Lans-
downe. Those will come, by and by. They are magnifi-
cent. Please listen." And Adfele placed a finger upon
her lips, in token of silence.

John listened, at first, in obedience to her request, but
he soon became enchained by the speaker.

;(. •

,««BWr?KMA-»T»<tv?'~.':'rffi»<ffr>*^«V.lw<r»s-",'«w»».*",o^sif,,.. ► . ,

152

Mir.Anricui.

I 1

After the discourse was concludod, tlic trio remiiincd/
Bitting as if spellbound, quite unobservant of the crowd,
slowly di.^per.sing around them.

" What would that man have been, Ned," at length ex-
claimed John, " had he received the culture which sucii
munificent gifts demand? Why, he would have been the
orator of our nation."

" Ay, John," replied Mr. Somers, " but it is the solemn
tenth of his theme that gives him half his power."

"It is as if I had hoard the Dies ine chanted," said
Adele.

As they walked on towards the house in silence, they
encountered a company of persons, of which ]\Ir. Dubois
and the missionary were the centre. These two were con-
versing quite composedly, but tlie surrounding groups
seemed to be under some excitement.

At the dispersion of the gathering at the Grove, as ^Ir.
Norton was on his way to the quiet of his own room, i\[r.
Dubois had presented to him the bearer of a dispatch from
Frr'^ricton. The messenger said he had been instructed
to announce that the Provincial Court was in session in that
city, and that ft complaint had been lodged with the grand
jury against Mr. Norton, and he was requested to meet
the charge immediately.

Mr. Norton was surprised, but said very calmly —
•" Can you inform me, sir, what the charge is ! "

*' It is a charge for having preached in the Province of
Brunswick, without a license."

" Can you tell me by whom the charge was brought?"

Est

the

tint

stai

and

licai

aboi

and

who

ciiei

pcrr

intei

whe

((

go I
mea
ther
gitf
to h
hull
both
(t

to tl

six 1
he^

MliiAMICIII.

153

tlic trio remiiined/
/ant of the crowd,]

fed," at length ex-
ulturc which such
)uld have been the

but it is the solemn

is power."

2/ve chanted," said

ic in silence, they
vhich ]Mr. Dubois
lese two were con-
irroundlng groups

;lie Grove, as Mr.
lis own room, i\[r.
of a di!<pateh from
id been instructed
s in session in that
od with the grand
requested to meet

cry calmly —

larije is ! "

in the Provluce of

2;e was brought ? "

*• By the reverend Francis DInsmoor, a clergyman of tho

Establishod Church, of the parish of ■ .

" Yes, sir. I understand. He Is your neighbor on
the other side of the river, Mr. Dubois. Well, sir," con-
tinued Mr. Norton, " I suppose you have just arrived and
stand in need of refreshment. I will confer with you, by
and by."

The messenger retraced his steps towards the house.
In the mean time, a few rough-looking men had over-
heard the conversation, taken In Its Import, and now came
about Mr. Dubois and Mr. Norton, making Inquiries.

Tom Iluuklns, more noted for profanity, hard drinking,
and giimbllng, than any man In the settlement, and
whom Mr. Norton at the risk of making him a violent
enemy, had on one occasion severely reprehended for the
pernicious influence he exci-tcd In the community, — hero
Interposea a word of counsel. He was just speakin"',
when Adele, Mr. Somers, and John, joined the group.

" Neow of I may be so bold," said Tom, " I would n't
go anyst the cussed court. It's nothin' at all, but the
meanness and envy o' that rowdy priest over the river
there. He 'a jest mad, cos the people come over here to
git fodder instid o' goln' to his empty corncrib. They like
to hear yer talk better than they do him, and that 's the
hull on It. I'd let the condcmcd critter and court whizz,
both on 'era. I would 't go aynst 'em."

" But Mr. Ilunklns," said Mr. Norton, " I must attend
to this matter. I am exposed to a fine of fifty pounds and
six months' imprisonment, for breaking a law enacted by
he Assembly of His Majesty's Province."

-i, )

r!--^«-'t^.''i Li'.- ;-^'

154

MIUAMIOin.

II I,'

«• I '11 tell ye what yc can do, parson. I'll take and
put ye right through to Charthain this very night, and ye'
ken take a schooner that I know ia going to sail to-morrow
for Eastport. That 'ill land yc safe in the State of Maine,
where ye ken stay till the Court i» over, and the fox has
gone back to his hole, and then we '11 give ye a lift back
agin and ye kca go on with yer prcachin'."

" I thank you for your kind feeling towards me, Mr.
Ilunkins, but J. must go to Fredcricton. The case is just
this. I knew, before I came to Miramiehi, that the gov-
ernment was not particularly favorable to dissenting min-
isters, and also that the Assembly had passed this law.
But I had heard of the condition of this people and felt
constrained to come here, by my desire to serve Christ, my
^Master and my King. By so doing, I took all the risks in
the case. Now, if I, for conscience's sake, have violated
an unjust law, I am willing to pay the penalty. I have
not wittingly done harm to any of His Majesty's subjects,
or endeavored to draw them away from their loyalty. I
will therefore go with the messenger to Fredericton and
meet this charge. I am not afraid of what evil-minded
men can do unto me."

*' That is right, Mr. Norton," exclaimed Adele, who
had been listening attentively to his words. " Will you
not go with him, father?"

After a moment'^ meditation, Mr. Dubois replied, " If
it is Mr. Norton'j wish. I have a friend who is a member
of the Assembly. A favorable statement of the case from
him, would doubtless have much weight with the jury."

woi
exc

colL

arra

thoi

migl

abec
((

whc]

cisel
((

M
earlj

II
upon
nioti'
concl
belie'
gosp(
tlienc
comn
slept

In
blowi
matte

MinAsirmi.

1.-35

m. I'll take and!

very night, and ye'

J to sail to-morrow

he State of Maine,

r, and the fox has

five ye a lift back
» »

towards me, Mr.
The case is just
ichi, that the gov-
to dissenting rain-
1 passed this law.
is people and felt

serve Christ, my
ook all the risks in
ake, have violated
J penalty. I have
Majesty's subjects,

1 their loyalty. I
o Fredericton and
' what evil-minded

[limed Adele, who
srds. "Will you

>uboi3 replied, " If
d who is a member
it of the case from
;ht with the jury."

" Thank you, sir, thank you. Such an arrangement
would doubtless be of great service to mc. I should be
exceedingly grateful for it."

Micah, who had been hitherto a quiet listener to the
collofjuy, now gave a short, violent cou'gh, and eaid,
"Captin', it's kinder queer I should happen to hev an
arrand reouud to Fredericton to-morrow. But I've jest
thought that as long as I'm a goin' to be in the place, I
might as well step in afore the jury and say what I know
abeout the case."

" Thank you, Micah. I believe you have been present
whenever I have discoursed to our friends, and know pre-
cisely what I have said to them."
" Well, I guess I dew, pooty nigh."
The affair being thus arranged, the party separated.
Mr. Norton informed the messenger of his intention,
early in the morning, to depart with him for Fredericton.

He then retired to his room, spent an hour in reflectin'^
upon the course he had adopted, examined faithfully the
motives that influenced him, and finally came to the
conclusion that he was in the riglit path. He firmly
believed God had sent him to Miraraichi to preach the
gospel, and resolved that he would not be driven from
tlicnce by any power of men or evil spirits. He then
committed himself to the care of the Almighty Being, and
slept securely under the wing of his love.

In the mean time, there was a high breeze of excitement
blowing through the settlement, the people taking up the
matter and making common cause with Mr. Norton. Ho

I''

„^0>t.f^'^^

\ \

i.'l

4;,''

I' f\ '
i, '

ITH',

MIUAMIcril.

Boemedt'J hiivc fiiirly won their good will, rtlthoiis'i he lind 'I
not yet imliu'cd tliciu, ex<n'[)t iu a few instjinccs, to rofonn
their haliits o'.' life. Tliey ventilated their indignation

against the inifortunutc clergyman uf the parish of — ,

in no mcaaurcd terms.

There was, however, one exception to the kind feeling
manifested by the settlers, towards the missionary at this
time, in the person of Mrs. McNah. She informed Mrs.
Campbell, as they wvsc discussing the matter before retiring
for the night, tliat it was just what she had expected.

•' Na gude comes o' scch hurry-flurry kind o' doctrenos
as that man preaches. I dinna believe pn-^sona can be
carried into the kingdom o' hcaveo on a wharlwind, as
he'd have us to think."

••Well," said Mrs. Campbell, who had been much
impressed with Mr. Norton's teachings, •' I don't think
there's much likelihood of many folks round here, bein
kerried that way, or any other, into the kingdom. And I
shall always bless that man for his kindness to the children
when they were so sick, and for the consoling way in which
he talked to me at that time."

•' Ilis doctrenes are every way delytarious, and you'll
find that 's the end on 't," said Mrs. McNab.

To this dogmatic remark Mrs. Campbell made no

reply.

Sittin-T in the Madonna room, that evening, John re-
marked to Mr. Somers, " I have a growing admiration for
your missionary. Did you notice what he said, in reply to
the man who counselled him to fly into Maine and so evade

the
wh

tha

tlid

tha
cou

rr?.

I, rtltliouffli ho had 'I
*t;inoi;.s, to reform
thoir iritligrmtion
pui'Iiih of " ,

1 the kind fouling
niiffsionnry nt this
lie informed Mrs.
ittcr before retiring
uul expected,
kind o' doctrenca
'e pu.-'sons can be
I a wharlvvind, as

had been much
, ♦' I don't think

round here, bein
kiui^dom. And I
less to the children
jling way in which

arious, and you'll

Nab.

impbell made no

evening, John re-
ining admiration for
he said, in reply to
Maine and so evade

AlIUAMICUI.

167

llic charge brought against him? Small things sometimes
suggest groat ones. T was reminded of what Luther said,
wlion cited before the diet of Worms, and whon his frlonda
iidvlsod him not to go. ' 1 am lawfully called to appear n
that city, and thitlier I >vill go, in the name of the Lord,
thdiigh aa many dcviks aa tilea upon the houaca were
as.-oinblod against mc.' "

" Ay, John. There arc materials in the character of
tliut man for the making of another Luther. Truth,
courage, power, — he haa them all."
U

a.L't ■■■■ U.^

.1 I'i

( '

fT*

i I'l

' ,-'1

• '1',

il fit?

'I Hi I

„ I 1

CHAPTER XIX.

THE LIEUTRNANT-OOVKRNOR,

The next morning at an early hour, Mr. Dubois and
Mr. Norton, accompanietl by the bearer of the despatch,
started for Fredcricton. They were joined by Micah,
whoso alleged urgent business in that eity proved to bo
nothing more nor less than to lend his aid towards getting
the missionary out of what ho railed " a bad lix ! "

Proceeding up the Miramichi Kiver ashort distance, they
came to the portage, where travelling through the wilder-
ness twenty miles to the Nashvvauk, they passed down
that stream to its junction with tho St. John's Kiver, op-
posite Fredcricton.

After throwing off the dust of travel and resting some-
what from their fatigue, the two gentlemen first named,
went to call on Col. Allen, the friend of whom Mr.
Dubois had spoken, who was a resident of the Capital.

He was a man of wealth and consideration in the
province. Having listened attentively to the statement
made by Mr. Dubois respecting the arrest of Mr. Norton,
he promised to do all in his power to secure for him a fair
trial.

lm|i
cliiii
hiul
a f(
cou!

lenc

fact

wlii

for

youi

Goi

situ

extc

nier

the

rive

1
groi
tho
offic
a CO
toh

I
itinf
a lie

MIUAtnCitl.

159

tNOR.

', Mr. Dubois and
ir of the (Icspiitch,
joined by Mioah,
city proved to bo
id towards getting
, bad lix I "
iliort distance, they
hrough the wildcr-
thcy passed down
John's Kivcr, oj)-

and resting eome-
cnien first named,
id of whom Mr.
of the Capital,
isideration in the
to the statement
9t of Mr. Norton,
Jure for him a fair

AUhouj;li a hi;,fh churtlimnu in principh) and feeling,
ho Wtt8 yet candid and upright in his judgments, and
happened, moreover, to be well acquainted with the

character of the clergyman of the parish of , who

had brought the charge against jNIr. Nort(m. lie made
a few inquiries rosj)ecting the evidence the missionary
could produce of good character in his native State.

" It will be well," he remarked, to call on his Excel-
lency, the Governor, and put him in possession of theso
facts. It ia pocjililo the case may take some shape in
which his action may bo called for. It will do no harm
for him to have a knowledge of the circumstances from
yourselvea, gentlemen. ^Vill you accompany me to tho
Government House ? "

The Government House, a largo building of stone, ia
situated near the northern entrance to the city. Witii its
extensive wings, beautiful grounds and military appoint-
ments, it presents an imposing appearance. In the rear of
the mansion, a fine park slopes down to the bank of tho
river, of which it commands frequent and enchanting views.

Tho three gentlemen alighted at the entrance to tho
grounds, opening from the broad street, and after passing
tlie sentry were conducted by a page to the Governor's
office. His Excellency shortly appeared and gave Ij^tu
a courteous welcome. In brief terras Col. Allen prc-.cMiod
to him the case.

The Governor remarked in reply, that the law prohib-
iting persons from publicly preaching, or teaching, without
a license, had been passed many years ago, in consequence

-it^r'^;a*r*s*p8#rai*>»-;44f-««!i-i»v?-'.

* 't

■i-fe'l

iiiVJk':

5 ;r:'

i s

:»^ii::1
l|:i

160

MIUAJirCIII.

of disturbances made by a set of fanatics, who proniul-
gatod among the lower classes certain extravagant dogmas
by which they .eie led on even to commit murder, think-
ing they v.'cre doing God service. The purpose of the law,
he said, having been thus generally understood, few, if any
clergymen, belonging cither to the Established Church or
to Dissenting congregations, had applied for a license, and
this was the first complaint to his knowledge, that had been
entered, alleging a violation of the law. He said, also,
that from the statement Col. Allen had made, he appre-
hended no danger to jNIr. Norton, as he thought the charge
brought against him could not be maintained.

'* I advise you, sir," said he, turning to the missionary,
" to go to the Secretary's office and take the oath of alle-
giance to the government. Mr. Dubois states you are
exerting a good influence at ]\Iiramichi. I will see that you
receive no further annoyance."

" I thank your Honor," Mr. Norton replied, " for your
kind assurances, and I declare to you, sir, that I ha,e the
most friendly feelings towards Ilis Majesty's subjects and
government, as I have given some proof in coming to
labor at Miramichi. But, sir, I cannot conscientiously take
an oath of allegiance to your government, when ray love
and duty are pledged to another. I earnestly hope that
the present amicable relations may ever continue to exist
between the two powers, but, sir, should any conflict arise
between them, the impropriety of my having taken such
an oath would become too evident."

" You are right. You are right, my good sir," replied

■;:Hii'-pil

MIUA3IICI1I.

161

latics, who proniul-;
extravagant, dogmas
imit inurder, think-
purposc of the law,
erstood, few, if any
tablished Church or
d for a license, and
edge, that had been
w. He said, also,
id made, he appre-
thought the charge
ained.

to the missionary,
:e the oath of allc-
)ois states you are

I will eee that you

replied, " for your
3ir, that I ha ,e the
esty's subjects and
roof in coming to
!onscientiously take
snt, when my love
arnestly hope that
r continue to exist
d any conflict arise
having taken such

' good sir," replied

the Governor. <« I promise you that as long as you con-
tinue your work in the rational mode you have already
pursued, making no effort to excite treasonable feelings
towards His Majesty's government, you shall not be inter-
fered with."

His Excellency then made numerous inquiries of Mr.
Dubois and i\rr. Norton, respecting the condition of society,
business, means of education and religious worship in the
.Miramichi country. He already knew Mr. Dubois by
reputation, and was gratified to have this opportunity of
meeting him. He inquired of the missionary how he
hajipened to light upon New Brunswick as the scene of his
religious labors, and listened to Mr. Norton's account of his
" call " to Miramachi with unaffected interest.

The next day the case was brought before the Jury.
Tlie charge having been read, Mr. Dubois appeared in
behalf of the missionary, testifying to his good character
and to the nature of his spiritual teachings. He also pre-
sented to the Jury three commissions from the Governor
of the State of , which Mr. Norton had in his pos-
session, one of them being a commission as Chaplain of
the Regiment to which he belonged. Inquiry bein"-
made whether Mr. Norton's preaching was calculated to
(lisaffect subjects towards the government, no evidence was
found to that effect. On the contrary, witnesses were
brought to prove the reverse.

Mr. Mummychog, aware before he left Miramichi, that
a number of his compeers in that region, who had been in

the habit of coming to the Grove to hear Mr. Norton
140

-r,!j

..w*5*»'»'R^^f^'«ft"^"»«S*e.>i8Si!?»3te(e!3»H»iiw«w

163

MiR^unciu.

;ii'-,'i-;

Hi'

"fM,

discourse, were just now at Frederlcton, on lumbering
business, had been beating up these as recruits for the oc-
casion, and now brought forward quite an overpowering
weight of evidence in favor of the defendant. These mer
testified that he had preached to them the importance ot
fulfilling their duties as citizens, telling them, that unless
they were good subjects to the civil government, they
could not be good subjects in Christ's kingdom. They
testified, also, that they had frequently heard him pray in
public, for the health, happiness, and prosperity of His
Majesty, and for blessings on the Lord Lieutenant-Gov-
ernor.

After a few minutes of conversation, the Jury dismissed
the charge.

The party retired, much gratified at the favorable con-
clusion of what might, under other circumstances, have
proved to the missionary an annoying affiiir. JNIr. Norton
warmly expressed his grutitud- n Mr. Dubois, as having
been the main instrument, in set : ring this result. He
also cordially thanked JVIicah and his friends, for their
prompt efforts in his behalf.

" Twant much of a chore, any heow," said Micah. " I
never could stan' by and see any critter put upon by
another he' d done no harm to, and I never will."

As they returned to the hotel, Mr. Dubois remarked
that this journey to the Capital, after all, might not
be without good residtd.

" You made," he said to Mr. Norton, «« an extremely fa-
vorable impression on the minds of several gentlemen, who

M1RA3UCIII.

1G3

1, on lumbering
cruita for the oc-
an overpowering
int. These mer
he importance ot
hem, that unless
ovcrnment, they
kingdom. They
card him pray in
arosperity of His
Lieutenant-Gov-

ic Jury dismissed

le favorable con-
3urastanccs, have
ir. JNIr. Norton
)ubois, as having
this result. He
friends, for their

said Micah. "I
er put upon by
ir will."

)ubois remarked
aU, might not

' an extremely fa-
1 gentlemen, who

wield power in the province, and should you be subjected to
future persecutions, you will probably be able to secure
their protection."

" Possibly — possibly. I am grateful, if I have in any
way secured the good will of those gentlemen. I was par-
ticularly impressed by their dignity, affability, and readiness
to oblige yourself. But, my dear sir, it is better to trust
iu the Lord than to put confidence in prmces."

,„ ^Mtill99^^'W'^^^^^&9:-*ltin'33!Wlfv:%:ismrirf'-y"^i^'-i, ,•, :,

CHAPTER XX.

i^ i

; ■*

' ill.

i-f hi

MR. LANSDOWNE SUBMITS TO THE INEVITABLK.

In the meanwhile, a change had come upon John Lans-
downe. Only a few weeks ago, he waa a careless youth,
of keen and vigorous intellectual powers, satiated with
books and tired of college walls, with the boy spirit in the
ascendant within him. His eye was wide 02)en and
observant, and his ringing laugh was so merry, that it
brought an involuntary smile upon any one who might
chance to hear its rich peals. His talk waa rapid, gay, and
brilliant, with but the slightest dash of sentiment, and his
manner frank and fearless.

But now his bearing had become quiet and dignified ; his
conversation was more thoughtful and deep-flowing, less
dashing and free ; he spoke in a lower key ; his laugh was
Ipsa loud, but far sweeter and more thrilling ; his eyes had
grown larger, darker, deeper, and eoraetimes they were
shadowed with a soft and tender misi, i:ot wont to over-
spread them before. The angel of Love had touched him,
and opened a new and living spring in his heart. Boiling
and bubbling in its hidden recess, an ethereal vapor mounted
up and mantled those blazing orbs in a ctlni and dreamy
veil. A charmed wand had touched every sense, every

MlKAMICni.

1G5

INKVITADLK.

upon John Lnns-
a careless youth,
Ts, satiated with
; boy spirit in the
wide open and
30 merry, that it
T one who might
as rapid, gay, and
jntiment, and his

and dignified ; his
deep-flowing, less
!y ; his laugh was
ing ; his eyes had
etimes they were
:ot wont to over-
had touched him,
is heart. Boiling
al vapor mounted
dim and dreamy
ery sense, every

power of his being, and held him fast in a rapturous thrall,
from which he did not wish to be released. Under the
siiell of this enchantment, the careless hoy had passed into
the reflective man.

Stories are told of knights errant, in the times of ]\rcrlin
and the good King Arthur, who, while ranging the world
ill quest of adventures, were bewitched by lovely wood
fairies or were lulled into delicious slumber by some syren's
song, or were shut up in pleasant durance in enchanted
castles. Accounts of similar character are found, even in
the pages of grave chroniclers of modern date, to say
nothing of what books of fiction tell, and what we observe
with our own .;>es, in the actual world. The truth is,
Love smites his victims, just when and where he finds
tliem. Mr. Lansdowne's case then, is not an unprecedented
one. The keen Damascus blade, used to pierce our hero
and bring him to the pitiful condition of the conquered, had
been placed in the hand of Adele. Whetlrer Love in-
tended to employ that young lady in healing the cruel
wound she had made, remains to be seen.

At the beginning of thci:- acquaintance, they had found
a common ground of interest in the love of music.

They boH sang well. Adele played the piano and Joha
discoursed on the^ute. From these employments, they
passed to books. They rummaged Mr. Dubois's library
and re-d together, elected pasin 'es from favorite authors.
Occasionally, John gave her little episodes of his past life,
his childish, his school, and college days. In return, Adele
told him of her term at Halifax in the Ojavent; of tho

i ill

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■*. *>''»OT»lir»'««'"T.-«'>'.--'-- ><!-•>»-■<

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1G6

MniAMICIU.

I I

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routin.3 of life and study there; < f her rlend-ihlpa. ar) 1
very j>rivateiy, of t'ao duuiist sh'- tcnk, ' "ule lierc, t .
what fche called i,ho Frpcrstilk>nE, the mummeries and iuul-
atry ol' the Catht llo flmrch.

When ]Mr. Soia.'s had acquired strength enough ft)r
exercise on horseback, MrH. Dubois, Adeie, an'l John wor<
accustomed to accomp:'ry him. Daily, about an ho ir after
breakfast, the little party might have bet;a si fitting off
for a canter through the forc-t. Xn the * » cning, the group
was joiaed by Mr. Dubois and the missionary. The atmos-
phei-e being exceedingly dry, both by day and night, they
often sat and talked by moonliglit, on a balcony, built over
th« large, porch-like entrance to the main door of the house.

Thus John and Adele daily grew into a more familiar
acquaintance.

During the absence of Mr. Dubois at Fredericton, Mr.
Somera announced to John that ho felt himself strong
enough to undertake the ride through the wilderness, and
proposed that, as soon as their host returned, they should
start on their journey home.

"With increasing strength, Mr. Somers* had become
impatient to return to the duties he had so summarily
forsaken.

He wished to test, in active life, his j^ower to maintain
the new principles he had espoused and to ascertain if the
nobler and holier hopes that now animated him, would give
him peace, strength, and buoyancy, amid the temptations
and trials of the future.

John, for several days, had been living in a delicious

revc

awa

aud

inwi

indl(

Soin

that

inon

But

once

agita

hisn

hand

Ilis f

will

ence.

tainlj

rived

enjoy

tion !

with

olie a

could

doubt

She c

able t

she M

Some

MIRAMICm.

167

rlendihipa. anl
, 'v'iilc acre, to
mmeries and itiol-

;ngtU enough for
le.anfl John were
bout an hour after
iO 8( fittin,;^ off
^ ening, the group
lary. The atmos-
y and night, they
lalcony, built over
door of the house.
> a more familiar

Fredericton, Mr.
t himself strong
e wilderness, and
rned, they should

lers had become
lad so summarily

^ower to maintain
to ascertain if the
1 him, would give
1 the temptations

ig in a delicious

reverie, and was quite startled by the proposition. Though
aware how anxiously his parents were awaiting his return,
and that there was no reasonable excuse for farther delay, ho
inwardly repudiated the thought of departure. He even
indicated a wish to delay the journey beyond the time Mr.
Somers had designated, A piercing look of inquiry from
that gentleman recalled him to his senses, and after a
moment of hesitation, he assented to the arrano-ement.
But the beautiful dream was broken. He was thrown at
once into a tumult of emotion. Unwilling to expose his
agitation to the observation of others, he went directly to
his room and locked himself in.

After sitting half an hour with his face buried in his
hands, the chaos of his soul formed itself into definite shape.
His first clear thought was this,'— «' Without Adele^-my life
will be a blank. She is absolutely necessary to my exist-
ence. I must win her." A very decided conclusion cer-
tainly, for a young gentleman to reach, who when he ar-
rived at this house, but a few weeks before, seemed to be
enjoying a liberal share of hope and happiness. The ques-
tion arose. Does she care for me? Does she regard me
with any special interest beyond the kindness and courtesy
ohe accords to all her father's guests ? On this point, he
could not satisfy himself. He was torn by a conflict of
doubt, hope, and fear. He thought her not averse to him.
She conversed, sang, and rode with him as if it were agree-
able to her. Indeed she seemed to enjoy his society. But
she was equally pleased to corveise and ride with Mr.

Somer" and good Mr. Norton.

He was unable to deter-

l! I

! • ;ii:

1G8

MIKAMICTIT.

mine tiic sentiments slio really clierislicd nnd rcmiiincd
tossed to and fro in painful suspense and iin;itati()n.

A couple of -hours passed and found hini in the same
state. Mr. Somers came and tapi)cd upon his door. Un-
willing to awaken a suspicion of any unusual discomposure,
John opened it and let him in.

«< Hope I don't intrude," said Mr. Somers, *' but I want
you to look at the horse Mumtnychog has brought for me.''
" Ah I yes," said John, and seizing his hat, he accom-
panied his friend to the stables.

T ( 1' ^".v^rvationa over, they returned to the house.
« y.Ai oav. ]v. " a fit of solitude, quite unusuid, my boy,"
said hh. ;»^oniOiri, planting his hand on John's shoulder.

"Yes, quiiu. For a novelty, I have been collecting my
thouglits." John meant to speak in a gay, indifferent tone,
and thought he had done so, but this was a mistake.
IJosides he had in fact a decidedly conscious look.
"If you have any mouicntous affair on hand, I advise
you to wait, until you reach /lomr. before you decide upon
it, my boy," said Mr. Somers, with a light laugh, but a
strong emphasis upon the word, home.

And he passed up-stairs, leaving /ohn, standing bewil-
dered in the hall-door.

"Ah! Ked has discovered it all," said he to himself.
But he was too much occupied with other thoughts to be
annoyed by it now. •

Mr. Somers's last remark had turned the course of his
meditations gomcwhat. Uv ))cgan to question what opinion
his parents might fiavc in regard to the sentiments he en-

tcrtai
oiido!
him I
withi

Nt
think
choic

Bu
of SUI
rccen
a ma
being
he CO
to raf

It
pecte
oppoi
apprc
Ilour
expec
of ol(

So
him 1
menti
in he
the p
he ca

J^^s^s- XTtrt-^

MIltAMIClIl.

1C9

icd nnd rcmiilncd

a;i;itiVtion.

him in the same
on Ilia door. Un-
ual discomposure,

icra, *' but I want
3 brought for inc.''
his hat, he accom-

led to the house.
unusuiU, my boy,"
Fohn's shoulder.
)een collecting my
y, indifferent tone,
X8 a mistake,
acious look,
on hand, I advise
e you decide upon
li;flit laugh, but a

m, standing bewil-

;aid he to himself,
thcr thoughts to be

d the course of his

cation what opinion

sentiments he en-

tertained towards Adelc, and the plan he had formed of
ciuleavoring to secure her love. lie knew, they considered
lilui as yet hardly out of boyhood. Ho had indeed, until
witliin a few weeks, looked upon himself in that light.

Not yet freed from college halls, — would they not
think him foolish and precipitate? Would they approve hw
choice ?

But these queries and others of like character ho disposed
of summarily and declaivoly. He felt that, no matter how
recently he had passed the limits of boyhood nnd become
a man, it was no boy's passion that now swayed his whole
being, it seemed to him that, should ho make the effort,
he could not expel it from his soul. But he did not wish
to make the effort. Adele was worthy the love of any man .

It had been his fortune to find a jewel, when he least ex-
pected It. Why should he not avail himself of the golden
opportunity and secure the treasure? Would Ha parents
approve his choice? Certainly, Adelo waa *' beat rful as the
Ilourles and wise as Zobeide." Considerations of policy and
expediency, which sometimes appear on the menral horizon
of older people, were quite unknown to our yoimg hero.

So he returned to the only aspect of the cnse that gave
him real disquiet. He had fears respecting Adele'a senti-
ments towards himself, and doubts of his ability to inspire
In her a love equal to his own. But he must be 'oft for
the present to adjust himself to his new sltuatloa as best
he can.

iii

_^Jt:'>ft

."■A"»*>5rn-<j-

5 1

II .<

Ill

i<\.

'ii!

! i

ilia;

e \»i

CHAPTER X:.«.I.

TROUBLKD HEAIITS.

On the afternoon of the day following, Adelc was'eit-
ing alone in the parlor. She held a hook in her hand, but
evidently it did not much interest her, as her eyes wan-
dered continually from its pages and rested, abstractedly,
upon any object they happened to meet.

She felt lonjly, and wondered why Mr. Lansdownc did
not, as usual at that hour, come to r.^. parlor. Slio
thought how vacant and sad her life would be, after he and
Mr. Somera had departed from Miramichi. She queried
whether dhe should ever meet them again ; whether, indeed,
either of them, after a short time, would ever think of the
acqup.intances they had formed here, except when recalled
by some accident of meniory, or association. She feared
they might wholly forget all these scenes, fraught with so
much interest and pleasure to her, and that fear took pos-
session of her heart and made her almost miserable. She
atrove to turn her mind upon her. favorite project of return-
ing with her ]:. rents, to France. But, notwitltstanding
her efforts, her ;h'.;ights lingered around the departing
gentlemen, and tbd close of her acquaintance with them.

the
in I
•Tal.
upo
darl
fci
nod
onc(
mot

SOIIJI

(larl,

eye

liitli(

By<

very

a str

v'th

of 01

trcm

nnd
One
novic
partii
by th

Adel(

\ W0'

•«.

MIUAMICm.

171

ig, Adelc was'eit-

)k in her hand, but

as her eyes Avan-

istcd, abstractedly,

Ir. Lansdownc did
!•;„. parlor. She
dd be, after he and
ichi. She queried
; whether, indeed,
1 ever think of the
cept when recalled
ition. She feared
!8, fraught with so
;hat fear took pos-
3t miserable. She
3 project of return-
if notwitltstanding
ind the departing
itance with them.

Suddenly she heard Mr. Lansdownc's step npproaclilng
tlic room. Conscious that her lic.irt was at this moment
ill licr eyes, siie hastily threw tlio book upon tUo. tubb.
'J'aking her embroidery, she bent her attention closely
upon it, thus veiling the tell-talo orbs, with their long
dark lashes.

She looked up a moment, as he entered, to give him a
nod of recognition. A flash of lightning will reveal at
once the whole i)araphernalia of a room, even to its re-
motest corners ; or diHclose the scenery of an entire land-
scape, in its minutest details, each previously wrapt by t.. ,
darkness in perfect mystery ; so, one single glance of the
oye may unveil and discover a profound secret, that has
liltlierto never been indicated, by cither word or motion.
By that quick glance, Adele saw Mr. Lansdov^he's face,
very pale with the struggle he had just gone through, and
a strange V lit glowing from his eyes, that caused her to
\ -'thdraw her own iraraeiliately.

Tier heart beat rapidly,— she was conscious that a tide
of Timsoii was creeping up to hor cheek, and felt herself
tremulous In every limb, as Mr. Lansdowne approached
nnd drew a seat near her. But pride came to her aid.
One strong effort of the will, and the young creature,
novice as she was in the arts of society, succeeded in
partially cohering the flutter and agitation of spirit caused-
by the sudden discovery of her lover's secret.

"When do you expect your father's return, Miss
Adele ? " inquired Mr. Lansdowne.
•' In a day or two," was the reply.

<i^

::'^Jl^^i,3^"-?y»d

I. ■

I't.

172

ilIU<UIIC'HI.

•• Do you know tliiit my iiiit !o nnd I will ho <>Migcil (o
leave our newly-found IVicndB here, soon after your fntlitr
gets home? "

•• I know," replied Adclc, with upp-xrtiif ciilninoos, «• thnt
Mr. Sonicra's health hsm greatly improved iiud 1 auppoHed
you would prohahly go away soon."

•• Pardon inc, Miss Adfile," said Jolui, in \ voice that
betrayed his emotion, '♦ but shall you miss us at all ? Shall
you regret our absence ? "

Again Adele's heart bounded quickly. She felt irritated
and ashamed of its tumult.

By an()ther strong effort, she answered simply, " Cer-
tainly, Mr. Lansdowne, vvc shall all miss you. You have
greatly enlivened our narrow family circle. Wo shall be
very sor^ to lose you."

IIow indifferent she is, thought John. She does not
dream of my love.

•' Miss Adelc," ho exclaimed pnssionately, «*it will bo
the greatest calamity of my life to leave you."

For a moment, the young girl was silent. His voice
both thrilled and fascinated her. Partly proud, partly shy,
like the bird who shuns the snare set for it, only fluttering
its wings over tho spot for an instant, and then flying to a
greater distance, Adclc bestirred her powers and resolved
•not to suffer herself to be drawn into the meshes. Slie
felt a new, strange influence creeping over her, to which
she was half afraid, half too haughty to yield without a
struggle.

♦« Mr. Lansdowne, I am happy to learn you place some

vnli
you
be I

her

don

inlii

crcn

nnd

knc

solil
(i

go.

Si
rooi
tear
Imd
She
shaL

bolt
((

love
mo

E
of d

M
suffi

tflt

MIUAMICilt.

173

will 1)0 ((Mij^cd to
1 lifter yi)iir ffttlier

it nilinncHs, ♦• tlmt
U iiud 1 HuppuHeJ

in, in 1^ voice that
s Ud ut nil ? Shall

She folt irritated

ed Biniply, ♦• Ccr-
18 you. You huvo
jlo. Wo Mhall be

n. She docs not

ately, " it will bo
you."

silent. His voice
proud, partly shy,
it, only fluttering
nd then flying to a
wers and resolved
the meshes. Siie
over her, to which
to yield without a

rn you place some

Millie on our friendship, m wo do on yours. But surely,
yciiir own home, such as you have described it to mo, must
1)0 the most attractive wpot on earth to you."

•' Is it poHsilde," said Mr. Lansdowno vcheraontly, taking
her hand and holding it fast in his, *' that you cannot un-
(lorstand mo, — that you do not know that I lovo you
infinitely more than father, or mother, or any human
creiituro?"

Surprised at the abruptness of this outburst, bewildered
and distressed by her own conflicting emotions, Adile
knew not what to say, and wished only to fly away into
solitude that sho might collect her scattered powers. -

•• Mr. Lansdowne, I am not prepared for this. Let me
go. I must leave you," she exclaimed.

Suddenly drawing her hand from his, sho fled to her own
room, locked the door and burst into a passionate flood of
tears. Poor child I Her lover with his unpractised hand,
had opened a new chapter in her life, too precipitately.
Sho was not prepared for its revelations, and tho shock had
shaken her a little too rudely.

John remained sitting, white and dumb, as if a thunder-
bolt had fallen upon him.

" Gone ! gone ! " he exclaimed at length, '* she does not
love me ! And, fool that I was, I have frightened her from
me forever 1 "

He bowed his head upon the table and uttered a groan
of despair.

Mr. Lansdowne returned to the solitude of his own room,
sufiiciently miserable. He feared be bad offended Adila
150

!'!!

l1 J .

-.^ «siui<aK«fc&-

HS^SfiaJsiTSftwm^etvnasBssMwjt-.-j: i

I 1

if 1,

I ''f^

Mi!

'Hi

174

MinAMICIII.

past healing. Looking over the events of the week, he
thought he could perceive that she had been teased by
his Attentions, and that she wished to indicate this by the
coolness of her manner and words to him, during their
recent interview. And he had recklessly, though unwit-
tingly, put the climax to her annoyance by this abrupt dis-
closure of his love. He berated himself unmercifully for
his folly. For a full hour, he believed that his blundering
impetuosity had cost him tlie loss of Adele forever.

But it is hard for hope to forsake the young. It can
never wholly leave any soul, except by a slow process of
bitter disappointment. John saw that he had made a mis-
take. The strength and tumult of his passion for Adele had
led him thoughtlessly into what probably appeared to her,
an attempt to otorm the citadel of her heart, and in her pride,
she had repulsed hiin.

He bethought him that there were gentler modes of
reaching that seat of life and love. He became a tactician.
He. resolved he would, by his future conduct, perhaps by
some chance word, indicate to Adele that he understood
her repulse and did not intend to repeat his offence. He
^ would not hereafter seek her presence unduly, but when
they were thrown together, would show himself merely
gentle and brotherly. And then, — he weald trust to time,
to circumstances, to his lucky star, to bring her to his side.
In the mean time, after her tears had subsided, Adele
found, somewhat to her surprise, that this sudden disturb-
ance of her usual equilibrium came from the very deep
interest she felt for Mr. Lansdowne. And, moreover, she

was
tot
of <
thai
don
nesi
Mr.

I
cbai

J
drai

tor

A
besi
ruin
grol
peai
sim]
nigl
dres
toh
the
sun

I
war
rem
alth
hav(
by (

• \/

MIEAMIOm.

175

3 of the week, he
id been teased by
ndlcate this by the
him, during their
sly, though unwit-
by this abrupt dis-
If unmercifully for
that his blundering
lele forever,
he young. It can
r a slow process of
he had made a mis-
ission for Adele hiid
y apptared to her,
irt, and in her pride,

) gentler modes of
became a tactician,
onduct, perhaps by
that he understood
sat his offence. He
I unduly, but when
lOW himself merely
would trust to time,
)ring her to his side,
lad subsided, Adele
this sudden disturb-
Prora the very deep
And, moreover, she

was annoyed to find it so, and did not at all like to own it
to herself. Naturally proud, self-relying, and in the habit
of choosing her own path, she had an instinctive feeling
that this new passion might lay upon her a certain thrall-
dom, noUcongenial to her haughty spirit. This conscious-
ness made her distant and reserved, when jhe again met
j\Ir. Lansdowne at the tea-table.

In fact, the manner of each towards the other had wholly
changed. *

John was calm, respectful, gentle, but nrnde no effort to
draw Adele's attention. After tea' he asked Mrs. Dubois
to play backgammon with him.

Adele worked on her embroidery, and Mr. Somers sat
beside her, sketching on paper with his pencil, various bits of
ruin and scenery in Europe, mixed up with all sorts of
grotesque shapes and monsters. Mr. Lansdowne ap-
peared, all the evening, so composed, eo natural, and
simply brotherly, that when Adele went to her room for the
night, the interview of the afternoon seemed almost like a
dream . She thought that the peculiar reception she had given
to his avowal , might have qui la disenchanted her lover. And
the thought disturbed her. After much questioning and
surmising, she went to sleep.

The next day and the next, Mr. Lansdowne's manner to-
wards Adele continued the same. She supposed he might
lenew the subject qf their last conversation, but he did not,
although several opportunities pr3sented, when he might
have done so. Occasionally, she strove to read his emotions
by observing his countenance, but his eyes were averted to

! I:

■ r

Sa^^^ffl^^^^S?ii^SS^«S»*I»}6*Sftw:e3.v««.

I'iVR^i','^*!* ^»..>«..s

iljii

176

MIRAMICni.

other objects. He no longer glanced towards her. *'AhI
well," said Adcle to herself, " his affection for me could
not be so easily repulsed, were it so very profound. I
will care nothing for him." And yet, somehow, her
footstep lagged wearily and her eye occasionally gathered
mists on its brightness.

It was now the eve of tlie fifth of October. An unnat"
ural heat prevailed, consequent on the long drought, the
horizon was skirted with a smoky haze and«the atmosphere
was exceedingly oppressive. Mrs. Dubois, who was suf-
fering from a severe hemlache, sat in the parlor, half buried
in the cushions of an easy-chair. Adele stood beside her,
bathing her head with perfumed water, while Mr. Somers,
prostrated by the weather, lay, apparently asleep, upon a
sofa.

"That will do, Adele," said Mrs. Dubois, making a
slight motion towards her daughter. "That will do, ma
chere, my head is cooler now. Go out and watch for your
father. He will surely be here to-night."

Adele stepped softly out, through the window upon the
balcony.

A few minutes after, Mr. Lansdowne came to the parlor
door, looked in. inquired for Mrs. Dubois's headache, gazed
for a moment, at the serene face of the sleeper on the sofa,
and then, perceiving Adele sitting outside, impelled by an
irresistible impulse, went out and joined her.

She was leaning her head upon her hand, with her arm
supported by a low, rude balustrade, that ran round the
edge of the balcony, and wfiS looking earnestly up the

road,
nanc(
very

up S(

becoi

once

conv<

iuritj

with(

Lane

sever
((

efFor
ance
confi

anxi(

((

frlen^

spem
(<

endc
((

coal

hom(

MIRAMICni.

177

rardsher. *'AhI
;ion for me could
'ery profound. I
t, somehow, her
asionally gathered

jber. An unnat-
long drought, the
id«the atmosphere
ois, who was suf-
parlor, half buried
stood beside her,
diile Mr. Somers,
ly asleep, upon a

Dubois, making a
That will do, ma
nd watch for your

window upon the

came to the parlor
'a headache, gazed
leeper on the sofa,
e, impelled by an
ler.

ind, with her arm

lat ran round the

earnestly up the

road, to catch the first glimpse of her father. Ilcr counte-
nance had a subdued, sad expression. She was indeed
very unhappy. The distance and reserve that liad grown
up so suddenly between herself and Mr. Lansdowne had
become painful to her. She would have rejoiced to return
once more to their former habits of frank and vivacious
conversation. But she waited for him to renew the famil-
iarity of the past.

She turned her head towards him as he approached, and
withdut raising her eyes, said, " Good evening, Mr.
Lansdowne." lie bowed, sat down, and they remained
several minutes in silence.

"I suppose," said John, at length, making a desperate
effort to preserve a composure of manner, entirely at vari-
ance withtlic tumultuous throbbings of his heart, " you are
confident of your father's return to-night ? "

'• O, yes. I look for him every moment. I am quite
anxious to hear the result of the expedition."

" I am, also. I hope no harm will come to our good
frien(}, Mr. Norton. Do you know whether he intends to
spend the winter here. Miss Adele? "

" I think he will return to his family. But we shall
endeavor to retain him, until we go ourselves."

" You go. Miss Adele," exclaimed John, unable to con-
ceal his eager interest, " do you leave here?"

" We go to France next month."

•' To France 1 " repeated the young man.

" My father and mother are going to visit thoir early
home. I shall accompany them."

::if''

■is»e»'«s»*

m^^mt

.'jSmissvcm

I i

178

MIRA3IICHI.

John, aroused by information containing so much of im-
portance in regard to Adele's future, could not restrain
himself from prolonging the conversation. Adele was
willing to answer his inquiries, and in a few minutes they
were talking almost aa freely and frankly as in the days
before Mr. Lansdownc's unfortunately rash avowal of his
passion.

Suddenly a thick cloud of dust appeared in the road, and
Mr. Dubois, Mr. Norton, and Micah, were soon distin-
guished turning the ^ead3 of their horses towards the house.

Adelo uttered an exclamation of joy, and bounded from
her seat. As Mr. Lansdovvne made way for her to reach
the window, she glanced for a moment at his face, and there
beheld again the strange light glowing in hia eyes. It
communicated a great hope to her heart.

She hastened past him to greet her father.

fl»

jL '-««Mnfi.;.

\g so much of im-
•ould not restrain
lion. Adele was
, few minutes they
:ly as in the days
ish avowal of his

d in the road, and
were soon distin-
towards the house,
and bounded from
jT for her to reach
his face, and there
: in hia eyes. It

ther.

CHAPTER XXn.

A MEMOEABLE EVENT.

The morning of the sixth of October dawned . The heat
of the weather had increased and become wellnigh intol-
erable. At breakfast, Mi-. Dubois and Mr. Norton gave
accounts of fires they had seen in various parts of the
country, some of them not far off, and owing to the prev-
alence of the forest and the extreme dryness of the trees
and shrubs, expressed fears of great devastation.

They miited in thinking it would be dangerous ior the
two gentlemen to undertake their journey home, until a
copious rain should have fallen.

During the forenoon, the crackling of the fires and the
sound of falling trees in the distant forest could be distinctly
heard, announcing that the terrible element was at work.

I r. Dubois, accompanied by JVIi-. 2»Jorton and John,
ascc ded the most prominent hills in the neighlK)rhood to
watch the direction in which the clouds of smoke appeared.
These observations only confirmed their fears. They
warned the people around ov the danger, but these paid
little heed. In the afternoon, the missionary crossed,
horn the Dubois house, on the northern side of the river,

1 I

.! <

«5'jsssv;'<>ii'**ai-i^w;,. ..^-^^

i I

180

MIllAMICfn.

to the southern bank, and explored the country to a con
eidcrable distance around.

In the evening, when the family met n. ' ^adonna
room, cheerfulness had forsaken the party. -M languor
produced by the heat and the heavily-ladep atmosphere,
Boliciiiude felt for the dwellers in the forest, through which
the file was now sweeping, o hoarse rumbling poise like
distant thunder, occasionally booming on their ears, and
gloomy forebodings of impending calamity, all weighed
upon the dispirited group.

Mr. Norton said it was his firm conviction that God
was about to display His poorer in a signal manner to this
people in order to arouse thv.m to a sense of their guilt.

Before separating for the night, he requested permission
to oflfer up a prayer to heayen. The whole circle knelt,
while he implored the Great Ruler of all, to take them as
a family under his protecting love, whether life or death
avraited tljem, and that He would, if consistent with His
great and wise plans, avert His wrath from the people.

The night was a dismal, and for the most of the family,
a ideepless one. The morning rose once more, but it
brdught no cheering sound of blessed rain-drops. The air
was still hot and stifling. '

About noon, the missionary came in from a round of ob-
servation he had been making, and urged Mr. Dubois to
take his family immediately to the sour-h bank of the river
The fires were advancmg towards them from the north,
and would inevitably be upon them soon. He had not been
able to discover any appearance of fire upon the southern

Ji -laiaiMWi,.

country to a con

ir. xiulonna

ty. -he languor
iidep atmosphere,
8t, through which
imhling poise like
m their ears, and
nity, all weighed

iviction that God
lal manner to thia
! of their guilt,
juested permission
'hole circle knelt,
11, to take them as
sther life or death
)nsistent with His
3m the people,
aost of the family,
once more, but it
in-drops. The air

rom a round of oh-
red Mr. Dubois to
1 bank of the river,
m from the north,
. He had not been
upon the southern

MIUAJIICIir.

181

side of the river. It was true the approaching flames
might be driven across, but the stream being for sorao
distance quite wide, this might not take place. In any
event, the southern side was the safest, at the present
moment. He had faith in the instinct of animals, and fur
several hours past he had &cen cattle and geese leaving
their usual places of resort and swimming to the opposite
shore.

Mr. Dubois, also convinced that there was no other
feasible method of escape, hastened to make arrangements
for immediate departure.

A mist, tinged with deep purple, now poured in from
the wilderness and overspread the horizon. A dark cloud
wrapped the land in a dismal gloom. The heat grew nearly
insupportable. Rapid explosions, loud and startling noises,
filled the air, and the forest thrilled and shook with the
raging flames. Soon a fiery belt encircled them on the
east, north, and west, and advancing rapidly, threatened
to cover the whole area. The river was the only object
which, by any possibility, could stay its course.

Then followed a scene of wildest confusion. The people,
aroused at last to their danger, rushed terrified to the river,
unmoored their boats and fled across. Hosts of women,
whose husbands were absent in the forest, came with their
children, imploring to be taken to the other side. The
remainder of the day was occupied in this work, and at the
close of it, most of those living in the Dubois settlement
had been safely landed on th 3 southern shore ; and there
they stood huddled together in horror-stricken groups,
16

.^-'■•^

I I

! «

I \-

■ !*< ■•i"|

182

MiriA:Micin.

on the hii^hcst points tlicy could reach, watcliing the
terrible, yet majestic scene.

Mr. Somers had been occupied in this way all the after-
noon and was greatly exhausted. As the darkness of night
shut dowii upon the scene, he landed a party of women
and children, who rushed up, precipitately, to join those
who had crossed before. He had handed the last pa.«dengcr
over the edge of the boat, when a sudden faintn'jss, pro-
duced by the excessive heat and fatigue, overpowered him.
He tottered backward and fell, striking his heat iolcntly
upon some object in the bottom of the boat. It was a
deathblow.

There he lay, with face upturned towards the lurid glare
that lit up the darkness. The boat nestled about in the
little cove, rocked upon the waves, presenting the pale
countenance, now half in shadow, now wholly concealed by
the overhanging shrubs, and now in full relief, but always
with a sweet, radiant, immovable calm upon the featurer^,
in strange contrast to the elemental roar and tumult around
him.

In the mean time, the fires drew nearer and nearer
the northern bank of the river. A strong breeze sprang
up and immense columns of smoke mounted to the sky.
Then came showers of ashes, cinders and burning brands.
At last, a tornado, terrible in fury, arose to mingle its
horrors with the fire. Thunderbolt on thunderbolt, crash
on crash rent the air. At intervals of momentary lull in
the storm, the roar of the flames was heard. Rapidly ad-
vancing, they shot fiery tongues mto every beast lair of the

113

mci
the

■*. ■1"«»«feS.,

li, watcliing the

way all the after-
darknesa of night

party of women
3ly, to join those
the last pa.«<5cngcr
3n falntn'jss, pro-
overpc^ercd him.
lis heat iolcntly

boat. It was a

rds the lurid glare

itled about in the
jsenting the pale
lolly concealed by
relief, but always
pon the featureri,
,nd tumult around

Barer and nearer
ag breeze sprang
jnted to the sky.
'. burning brands,
ise to mingle its
;hunderbolt, crash
nomentary lull in
ird. Rapidly ad-
y beast lair of the

Mir^Micni.

183

forest, into every serpent-ha, ntcd crevice of the rock,
sending forth tl; 'r denizens bellowing and writhing with
anguish and death ; onward still they rushed licking up
with hissing sound every rivulet and shallow pond, twisting
and coiling round the glorioin|^ pines, thftt had battled
the winds and tempests hundreds of yeara, but now to be
sniipi)ed and demolished by this new enemy.

With breathless interest, the inhabitants of the settle-
ment watched the progress of the ilah '. The hamlet
where th'^^^ lived was situated on a wide p')int of land,
around v. i ch the MIramlchi made an unusually bold
sweep. MIcah's Grove partly skirted it on the north.

From the Grove to the river, the forest-trees had been
cleared, leaving the open space dotted with the houses of
the settlers. The fire pressed steadily on toward the
Grove. The destruction of that forest fane, consecrated
so recently to the worship of God, ind the burning of
their homes and earthly goods seemed inev; table. The
people, with pale, excited faces, awaited this heait-rending
spectacle.

Just at this moment, the tornado, conc-.iij.y irom the
North with terrific fury, drawing fiames, treej and every
niovible object in its wake, whirling forward 'ith gigantic
power, suddenly turned in its path, veered towards the
east, swept past the Grove and past the settlement, leav-
ing them wholly untouched, and took its destructive course
onward to the ocean. The people were duml with amaze-
ment. Ruin had seemed so sure that they 8c;r .^ely truoted
the evidence of their senses.

^MiW*"*'**. '

ili'

ills*.,.,''!'

. ! At '',-'!

184

MinAsncm.

They dared not even think they had been saved from so
much misery. For a time, not a word was uttered, not a
muscle moved.

Mr. Mummychog was the first to recover his voice.

"'Tia a maraclc ! a§d nuthin' else," he exclaimed,
" and we've jest got to thank Captin' Norton for it. Ho'a
been a prayin' ut we might bo past by, all 'long and 't U
likely the Lord has heerd him. « Tain't on cour own ac-
ccounts, my worthy feller-sinners, that we've been spared.
Mind yu remember tfiiit."

The people in their joy gathered around the missionary,
and united with Micah, in acknowledging their belief, that
his prayers had averted from them this great calamity.
For a moment, their attention was distracted from the still
raging horrors of the scene by the sense of relief from
threatened danger.

It was during this brief lull of intense anxiety and ex-
pectation, that our friends first became aware of the absence
of Mr. Vomers . They had supposed, of course, that he was
standing somewhere among the groups of people, his at-
tention riveted, like their own, upon the scene before them.
Adcle first woke to the consciousness that he was not with

them.

• She turned her head and explored with earnest gaze the
people around. She could see distinctly by the intense
red li"ht, nearly every countenance there, but did not
recognize that of Mr. Somers. A painful anxiety immedi-
ately seized her, which she strove in vain to conceal. She
approached near where Mr. Lansdowne stood, by the side

of;

Soi
i

cla
iii<j
J
pa!
poi

in(]
for

sec

bei

aft

pi,

3cn saved from so
kviis uttered, not a

)vcr hia voice.
I," ho exclaimed,
)rton for it. lie's
all 'long and 't \i
't on cour own ac-
rt-e've been spared.

nd the rtSissionary,
g their belief, that
3 great calamity,
icted from the still
luso of relief from

se anxiety and ex-
vare of the absence
course, that he was
1 of people, his at-
scene before them,
at he was not with

th earnest gaze the
!tly by the intense
lierc, but did not
'ul anxiety Immcdi-
n to conceal. She
3 stood, by the side

MinAMirrii.

185

of her mother, gazing after the fire, placed her hand lightly
on his arm, and asked, "Can you tell me where Mr.
Somers is to be found ? "

♦' iMr. Somers! yes, — Ned. Wlierc i'^ he " he ex-
claimed, turning,, half bewildered by her qw lor and look-
ing In her face.

In an instant, the solicitude her fen "«od»

passed into his own, tlie same sudden pre. evil

possessed him.

Drawing Adele's arm hurriedly into his, he said, " plcaae
<ro with me to seek hiia."

Hastening along, they went from one to another, making
inquiries. It appeared that Mr. Somers had not been seen
for several hours.

Immediately, the whole company took the alarm and the
search for him commenced.

John and Adele, after fruitless efforts among the houses,
at length took their way to the river bank. As they were
hastening forward, a woman standing upon a rock over-
hanging the path they pursued, told them that Mr. Somers
brought herself and children- over in the boat, just at
dark, — that she had not seen hira since, and she remem-
bered now, that she did not see him come up from the river
after he landed them.

"Lead us to the spot where you left the boat," said
Adele. " Go on as quickly as you can."

The woman descended from her perch upon the rock and
plunged before them into the p.ath.

" I remember now," she said with sudden compimctions,
16*

. I

,,^ o.,*iw3r^'i™-'

18fi

MIKAMICiri.

nt licr own HclfiMli intllfforcnce, <* tlmt the pfcntlcraan looked
jMilc (iiul HCPinod to l)c (IroiuU'ul tired like'

Nfitlior John nor Adt'Ic niiidu reply, and tho woman
hurr'u'd on. In a tew minutes, a sudden turn in the path
br(>n;.dit them to the little cove where the boat Htill lay.

The woman fir^it eauj;ht sijjjht of tho wan face in tho
bottom of the boat, and uttered a scream of liorror. Tho
lips of tho others were frozen into silence by tho dread
Bpectaclo.

Scarcely a moment seemed to have passed, before John
runhed down into the water, reached tho boat, raised thence
the lifeless form, bore it to tho shore and laid the dripping
liead into tho arms of Adelo, who seated herself on tho
grass to receive it.

"Go quickly," she said to tho woman, "go for Dr.
Wright. I saw him only a moment ago. Find him and
bring him here."

John threw himself upon his knees and began chafing
Mr. Somers's hands. " lie is dead I he is dead ! " he whis-
pered, in a voice, hoarse and unnatural with fear and
anxiety.

" Let us hope not," said AdMe in a tone of tenderness.
"Perhaps it is only a swoon. Wo will convey him to
some shelter and restore him." And she wrung the rain
from his curls of long brown hair.

John's finger was upon Mr. Somers's wrist. " It will
break my mother's heart," he said, in the same hoarse whis-
per. At that moment. Dr. Wright's voice was heard. Ho
placed himself, without a word, upon the grass, looked at

e
fi
n

"i^^Kb

jrcntlcraati looked

and tlio woman
turn in the path
boat Mtill hiy.
wan face in the
of horror. The
ICO by the dread

sscd, before Joliii
oat, raised thcneo
I hiid tiie (hipping
cd herself on tho

xn, •' go for Dr.
I. Find him and

ad began chafing
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al with fear and

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B wrung the rain

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J

MlRAMICni.

187

e
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J

flio pulo face, unfjistoncd the dripping garments, thrust his
liand in beneath them, and laid it upon the young man's

lieart.

" He is dead ! " said Dr. Wright. <« Friends, get a bit
of canvas and a blanket and take him to some house, till
day breaks."

John, stupefied with horror and grief, still knelt by INIr.
Somers, chafing his hands and wringing the water from his
wet garments. At length, Mr. Dubois gently roused him
from Ills task, telling him they would now remove their
friend to a house, where he miglit be properly cared for.
" Let me lift him, " said Micah to the young man. But
;. o.m s.^oo^i his ucau anu stooping, ruised Mr. Somers and
laid him ou the canvas as gently as if he were a sleeping
infant.

Mr. Dubois, the missionary, John, and Micah conveyed
the precious cliarge. The Doctor, with Mrs. Dubois and
Adele followed in melancholy silence. The crowd came
behind. The terrific events of the night had made the
people quiet, thoughtful, and sympathetic.

Once, after the prolonged, clinging gaze of each upon
the face of the sleeper, the eyes of the missionary and John
met.

•' My dear yomg man," said Mr. Norton, in a low,
emphatic voice, " God has taken liim in mercy. The dear
friend whom we loved, is himself satisfied, I doubt
not. May the Eternal Father grant us all at the end of
our course here a like blessed deliverance. Amen."
John looked^ in the good man's face, as if he but half

188

MIRAJIICIII.

understood his words, and fixed his eyes again upon Mi:

Sonicrs.
At length, the party reached a house near the river bank,

where they deposited the dead.

airs. McNab, who had foUowed close on their footsteps,

when they reached the door, drew Adelc aside and said,

.♦' Naw, Miss Ady, I want the prcevaleege o' trying to rc-

Boositatc that puir gcntehnan. It wad be like rasin' the

dead, but there '11 be nae harm in tryin', to be sure."

"lie is dead. The doctor says so, Aunt Patty." And
Adele turned away quickly.

Tnit :Mrs. INIcNab- caught her shawl and held it. ^
"Naw, Miss Ady, diuna turn awa" inua ii puir body,
that was overtook ance or twice with the whiskey , when
a was tired and worrit for want o' sleep. I wad nae ha'
hurt a liair o' the gentelman's head. An' I wad like the
preevalecgc o' wrappin' some blankets round hin an' puttin'
some bottles o' hot water to his feet."

Adele, Avho had listened more patiently than she
was wont, now turned and glancing at Aunt Patty, saw
that she really looked humble and wishful, and two great
tears were in her eyes.

"Well, I will see," said she, struck with this new phase
of Mrs, ISIcNab's countenance. She went into the apart-
ment, where they had just laid Mr. Somers upon a bed.
In a few minutes, she returned.

" The doctor says it will be of no use. Aunt Patty.
But Mr. Lansdowne would like to make an attempt to
restore him. So come, mamma and I will help you."

n
1
h

JHRAJIICni.

189

jyes again upon ^Ir.

I near the river bank,

).se on their footsteps,
Vdelc aside and said,
dcege o' trying to rc-
rad be like rasin' tlio
in', to be sure."
, Aunt Patty." And

I and hcUl it.

, n ..!.. l,„.1..

a inua ii pun uuuj^ ,

li the whiskey , when

leep. I wad nae ha'

An' I wad hke tlie

I round liir"" an' puttin'

3 patiently than she
; at Aunt Patty, saw
.'ishful, and two great

;k with this mw phase
e -.vent into the apavt-
. Somcra upon a bed.

no use, Aunt Patty.
) make an attempt to

I I will help you."

Notwitlistanding IMrs. McXal)'8 subdued state of mind
and her genuine, unselfisli wish to do all in her power to
bring consciousness to the stricken form, she could ncjt
avoid, as she made one api)]ication after another, niakin"
ali*o a few indicative observations to Mrs. Dubois.

" Did ye hear what the preacher said to the young mon
as we cam' alang? lie 's a mighty quick way o' desmcesin
a' bonnie creetur like this out o' the warld and sayin' he 'a
satisfied aboot it."

" That was not what the missionary said, Mrs. Mc-
Nab," replied ]Mrs. Dubois. " lie said that Mr. Somers is
hap])y now. lie Is in Paradise, and we must not wish him
back, lie is satisfied to be with Jesus and the angels and
his own mother. That is what he meant. And does he
not look satisfied ? See his bllssfuUcountenancc I "

INIrs. Dubois leaned over him a moment, and thinking of
his sister, Mrs. Lansdowne, parted his hair with her pale,
slender fingers and imprinted a kiss on his forehead.

All efforts to restore warmth, or life to that marble form
were in vain, and at length they covered his face gently,
until tiie day-dawn.

John sat by tlie bedside, his head buried in his hands,
until morning. lie thought over all his past companion -
ship with this youthful Uncle Ned, of his pleasantness,
wit andfascinatitm, of his g .icrous spirit, of his love for
his mother and himself, and wondered at the awful strange-
ness that hiid thus fallen, in a moment, between them.
Then the thougi>t of his mother's bitter grief swept over
him like a flood and nearly unmanned him. Like the

190

MIRAMICIII.

drowning nifxn, his bruin was stinuilatoil to an unwonted
activity. He lived over again his whole life, in a few min-
utes of time. This dread Power, who had never crossed
his path before, shocked him inexpressibly. Who of the
young, unstrickcn by sorrow, ever associates death with
himself or with those he loves, till tiio Arch Reaper conies
some day and cuts down and garners his precious treasme ?

John had heard of death, but he had heard of it just as
he had heard of the poisonous Upas-tree, growing on some
distant ocean island, or of an evil star, under whose bale-
ful influence he mi^ht never fall.

The young live as if this life were immortal. So mucli

c, when they wake up uuiu

41...

C-vpCriv;ii\;

the delusion.

The others of the party were gathered in an adjoining
room, gazing silently at the scene without. It was fearful,
yet sublime. The whole northern side of the Miramiclii
river, for over one hnndred miles, had become involved in
one mighty sheet of flame, which was sweeping on in
swift destruction to the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The river
boiled with the fierce heat and tossed its foaming waters,
filled with its now lifeless inhabitants, to the shore. The
fire was fed by six thousand square miles of primeval for-
est, — a dense growth of resinous trees, — by houses and
barns filled with crops, and by thriving towns upon the
river's bank.

Above all, the people could not put aside the horrible
truth, that hundreds of men, women, and children, — their
friends and their acquaintances, — were perisliing by the all-

tl
til

re
dr
01

pr
aw

itcd to an unwonted
ole life, In a few niin-
10 liiul never crossed
2ssibly. Who of the
associates death with
iG Arch Reaper conies
his precious treasure ?
ad heard of it just as
;ree, growing on some
ir, under whose bale-
immortal. So mucli
n they wake up fium

ercd in an adjoining
liout. It was fearful ,
de of the Miramiclii
d become involved in
ivas sweeping on in
iawrence. The river
1 its foaming waters,
, to the shore. The
niles of primeval foi--
ses, — by houses and
iing towns upon the

ut aside the horrible
and children, — their
e perisliing by the all-

MIK.VMICIII.

191

consuming element. They could not exclude from fancy,
the agonized and dying shrieks of those dear to them, and
the demoniac light shone on countenances, expressing
emotions of pity, grief, horror, and despair.

While the Missionary sat there waiting for the day, ho
recalled with startling distinctness the wild dream he
dreamed, on that first n.Vht he spent at the Dubois House.
Ot course, his belief in foregleams of future events was
confirmed by the scenes transpiring around him.

Mrs. Dubois sat near him, her countenance expressinrr
profound grief. °

" The dear young man ! » she said. '« How sad and
awful thus to die I "

"My dear madam," said xMr. Norton, «« let us not
mourn as those who have no hope. Our beloved friend,
brilliant and susceptible, aspiring and tender, was illy fitted
tor the rude struggle of life. It is true he might have
fought his way through, girt with the armor of Christian
fuith and prayer, as many others, like him, have done.
But the fight would have been a hard one. So he has been
kindly taken home. Sad and awful thus to die? Say
rather, infinitely blest the God-protected soul, thus snatched
away from this terrific uproar of natural elements into the
spliere of majestic harmonies, of stupendous yet peaceful
powers."

A-t daybreak the little community took to their boats,
crossed the river and re-entered once more the dwellings
they had but a few hours before left, never expecting to
return to them again. Some went home aad gathered

192

MIRAJIICIII.

their fainilicsin unbroken niunbcrs around them. Others,
■\vho80 husbands and sons had been absent in the forest at
tlic thuc of the breaking out of the fire, over whose fate
remained a terrible luiccrtainty, gathered in silence around
lonely hearths. The terrors of the past night were, to
such, supplemented by days and even weeks of heart-
breaking anxiety and suspense, closed at last by the
knowledge of certain bereavement.

All had been deeply impressed with the horror of tlic
scene, and sobered into thoughtfulness. A few felt truly
grateful to tho !Most High for their wonderful preservation.

ound them. Othcrn,
ihscnt in tlic forest iit
fire, over whose fate
3rc(l in silence aroinul
past night were, to
even weeks of hcnrt-
oscd at last by the

ith the horror of tlic
388. A few felt truly
'ondcrful preservation.

CHAPTER XXni.

THE SEPARATION.

With the morning light anil the return to the settle-
ment, Mr. Lansdowne awoke to a consciousness of the
duty immediately before him, that of making arrange-
ments for the safe conveyance home of *hc precious form
now consigned to his care.

His friends at the Dubois house manifested the deepest
sympathy in his affliction, and aided him In every possible
way. In making his journey he concluded to take a boat
conveyance to CHatham, and a trading vessel thence to hia
native city.

The missionary, who since the early spring had been
laboring up and down the rivers St. John and Miramichi,
now concluded to rp^.iirn to his family for the coming win-
ter. Such had L o.: his intention and his promise +0
Mrs. Norton, when he left home. He was induced to 20
at this particular time partly by the hope of rendering
some service to Mr. Lansdowne during his journey, and
partly in order to see JSIrs. Lansdowne and impart to
her the particulars of her brother's residence and illness
at Miramichi. A scheme of mercy on the part of the good
man.

11)4

MiitAMiriii.

On the return of Mr. Diihoia to his lioiise, he fonml ii
packiigo of Icttora, which, in the confusion luiil anxiety of
the i)rcvi<)in day, hud roniiiined unopened. Tlieic was
one from tiio Count do Uoi^Hillon, unnoinicing the death
of tlie Countess. lie wrote iw if d(;ci)ly depressed in
mind, speiikin;,' of the inlirnilties of UL^e weighing heavily
u2)on him, nnd of his h)nelincss, and iniph)ring Mr. Duljois
to conic, make his ttb(»dc at the chateau and take charge
of tlic estate, wliich, at his death, he added, would pass
into tlic possession of Mrs. Duhois and Adole.

Mrs. Dubois's heart beat with delight and her eyes swam
witii tears of pleasure, at the prospect of once more return-
ing to her beloved Picardy. Yet her joy was severely
chastened by the loss of the Countess, whom she had fondly
loved.

Adele felt a satisfaction in the anticipation of being
restored to the dignities of liossillon, which she was too
proud to manifest.

JNIr. Dubois alone hesitated in entertaining the idea of a
return. His innate love of independence, together with a
remembrance of the early antipathy the Count had shown
to the marriage with his niece, made the thought repellant
to him. A calmer consideration, however, changed hia
view of the case. He recollected that the Connt hnd at
last consented to his union with Mrs. Dubois, and rollotted
that the infirmities and loneliness of the Coun^ laid on
them obligations they should not neglect. He found,
also, that his own love of home and country, now that it
could at last with propriety be gratified, welled up and
overflowed like a newly sprung fountain.

MIUAMICIir.

199

rt house, he foiuul sv
won luul anxiety of
pciied. There was
iiouiicing the death
l(;oi)ly depressed in
L^e weighing heavily
iiphjring Mr. Duhois
au and take eiiarge
} added, would pasa
1 Adele.

it and her eyca 8wam
of once more return-
er joy was severely
ivhom she had fondly

nticipation of being
, which she was too

taining the idea of a
inee, together with a
le Count had shown
:lie thought repellant
>wever, changed his
it the Count hnd at
Dubois, and ro:ii;tted
the Coun* laid on
eglect. He found,
country, now that it
ified, welled up and
in.

The tornmlo had spent itself, the fire had rushed on to
the ocean, the atmosphere had became comparatively clear
and the weather cool and bracing.

On the evening before the departure of Mr. Norton ami
Mr. Lansdi'wiie, the family met, as on many previous
occasions, in the Madonna room. In itself, the ai)artmcnt
was as cheerfid and attractive as ever, but each one present
felt a sense of vacancy, a shrinking of the heart. Tijo
sutmy changeful glow of one bright face was no longer
there, and the shadows of api)roaching separation cast a
gloom over the scene.

These i)eople, so strangely thrown together in this wild,
obscure region of Jliramichi, drawn liither by such dillbr-
ing objects of pursuit, bound by such various ties in life,
occupying such divergent positions in the social scale, had
grown by contact and sympatliy into a warm friendship
toward each other. Their daily intercourse was now to
be broken up, the moment of adieu drew nigh, and the
prospect of future meeting was, to say the least, precarious.
Was it strange that some sharp pangs of regret lilled their
hearts ?

iNIr. Lansdownc, who had up to this time been wholly
occupied with his preparations for departure, was sitting,
in an attitude betokening weariness and despondency,
leaning his arms upon a table, shading his face with his
hand. A fe\v^ days of grief and anxiety had greatly
changed him. He looked pale and languid, but Adele
thought, as she occasionally glanced at liim from the sofa
opposite, that she had never seen his countenance so clothed
with spiritual beauty.

;JI

196

MIUAMICIII.

Mr. Pubolsj.who lind not yet spoken to hU friends of
his intctitloii to riMnove to Fnincc, now hmkc tliu heavy
Hilcncc, hy annouiicln;^ his piirposi! to leave, in the course
of a week, mid return witii his family to I'ieiirdy.

Mr. Lansduwjio started suddenly and uttered a sli-fht
exclamation. Adelo looked nt him involuntarily. Ho
wnH gazing at her intently. The strange light again
glowed in his eyes. Her own fell slowly. She could
not keep her lids lifted heneath his gaze.

After the plans of !Mr. Dubois had been discussed,
mutual iiupiirics and communications respecting future
prospects were made, until the evening hours were gone.

•'If my life is spared, I shall cf)me here and spend another
season, as I have spent the one just closing," said Mr.
Norton.

Tims they parted for the night.

In the morning there was tir^o for nothing, but a few
hasty words.

Adelc's face was very pale. Mr. Lansdownc, looking
ns if he had not slc[)t for many hours, took her hand, bqnt
over it silently for a moment, then walked slowly to the
boat without turning his head.

During days and weeks of tranquil pleasure in each other's
companionship, these two young beings had unconsciously
become lovers. No sooner had they awakened to a knowl-
edge of this fact, than a great danger and an unlookcd for
sorrow, wliile decjicning the current of their existence, had
also deepened tlieir alfeetion. Was that formal, restrained
adieu to be the end of all this ?

)ltcn to hiH friends of

low broke tlu) lu.'uvy

) leave, in the courso

\y to I'Icanly.

and uttered a Blif^lit

It involuiitnrily. IIo

strnngo light iigaiii

slowly. She couKl

izc.

hud been discussed,
ns respecting future
ng hours were gone,
lerc and spend another
8t closing," said Mr.

or nothing, but a few

. Lansdownc, looking
), took her hand, bqnt
walked slowly to the

)leasurc in each other's
[igH had unconsciously
awakened to a knowl-
r and an unlookcd for
of their existence, had
'hat formal, restrained

CIlAPTKIt XXIV.

CHATEAU DR HOSSILLON.

L\ the year 182S, three years after the occurrences
related in the lust chapter, Adelo Dubois, grown into a
.^uiioib buiiuly, stood near the Aplwodlte fountain, in front
of the chateau de Kossillon, feeding from her hand a beau-
tiful white fawn. It was a warm, sunny afternoon in June.
j\l:ijesti(; trees shaded the green lawn, and the dark brown
hue of the old chateau formed a fitting background for the
charming tableau. Adele was enveloped in a cloud of white
gauzy drapery, a black velvet girdle encircling her vvai^t,
fiistcned by a clasp of gold and pearls. Her hair was laid
in smooth bands over her brow, then drawn into one mass
of heavy braids upon the back of the head, and secured by
a golden arrow shot ll 'ough it.

One who by chance had seen Adele in the wilds of ^Tira-
michi, at the age of sixteen, would at once recogni/c the
lady feeding the fawn as the same. At a second glance,
the hair would be seen to have grown a shade darker and
a gleam more shining, the large sloe-colored eyes more
thoughtful and dreamy, the complexion of a more trans-
17-

198

mR.uiicin.

parent whiteness, anil the figure to have ripened Into a
fuller and richer symmctiy.

Notliing could surpass the exquisite moulding and fair-
ness of the arm extended alternately to feed and caress
the pet animal before her. No wonder the little creature
looked up at her with Its soft, almost human eyes, and
gazed In her face, as If half bewildered by her beauty.

"With a proud and stately grace, she moved over the
sward, up the marble steps and passed through the great
saloon of the chateau. Was there not a slight air of Ind'i-
ference and c?«?r«j In her face and movements? Possibly.
It has been noticed that people who are loved, petted, and
admired, who have plenty of gold and jewels, who sit at
feasts made for princes, and have the grand shine of splen-
dor always gleaming round them, arc more likely to carry
that weary aspect, than others. (Queens even do not look
pleased and happy more than half the time. The fact
was, that Adele of MIramichi, having spent much time in
Paris, during the last three years, where she had been
greatly admired, now that the novelty was over, had
become tired of playing a part In the pageantry of courtly
life and longed for something more substantial.

As she crossed the saloon, a page Informed her that
Mrs. Dubois wished her presence In the library. She im-
mediately obeyed the summons.

This apartment, one of the pleasantest in the chateau,
was a favorite with the Count ; and as age and infirmity
crept upon him, he grew more and more attached to it,
and was accustomed to epend there the greater pai-t of his

BIIR.UIICTII.

109

I have ripened Into a

tc moulding and fair-
ly to feed and caresa
Icr the little creature
ost human eycti, and
red hy her beauty.

she moved over the
ssed through the groat
ot a slight air of Indi-
ovements? Possibly,
are loved, petted, and
and jewels, who sit at
grand shine of splcn-
c more likely to carry
leens even do not look

the time. The fact
ig spent ranch time in
, where she had been
velty was over, had
3 pageantry of courtly
substantial.

ge informed her that
the library. She im-

antest in the chateau,

d as age and infirmity

more attached to it,

the greater pai-t of his

time, amused and soothed by the attentions of ]\Irs. Dubois
and Adele. It was a lofty, but not very large apartment,
flic walls nearly covered with bookcases of oak, carved in
quaint old patterns and filled with choice books in various
languages. Several finely executed statues were placed in
niches, and one large picture, by Ilubcns, gathered a stream
of sunt^hinc upon its gorgeous canvas.

The Count was sitting, burled in the purple cushions of
an easy-chair, fast asleep, and as Adele entered the room,
her mother held up her finger, warnlngly.

" M(t chcre, " said Mrs. Dubois, in a low tone, " here is
R packet of letters for you, from Paris."

Adele took them from her mother's hand, IndifTerently.
She read and crushed together a note bearing the impres-
sion of a coat of arms.

" Count D'Orsay and sister wish to come here next
week, " she said, with a half sigh.

" A7/, hlc7)..' wn chcre, they are agreeable people. I
shall be glad to see them."

" Yes," replied Adele, Gabrielle is very lovely. Never-
theless, I regret they are coming."

" Do you know, Adele, how highly your father esteems
the young Couet ? "

" Yes, mamma, and that is one reason why I do not
wish him to come now to Rosslllon. You know he loves
mc, and my father approves. I can never marry him. But
I esteem and respect him so much, that it will give me
fhfinltc pain to say nay."

^Irs. Dubois looked at Adele very tenderly, yet gravely,

:<!«

200

MinAiiTcni.

and said, *' Ma JtUc, do not throw away a true, devoted
affection, for the sake of a pliantom one. I fear that, while
you arc dreaming and waiting, happiness will slip out of
your path."

"Dreaming and waiting," repeated Adele, a slight red
color kindling on her cheek, " am I dreaming and waiting? "

" It seems to me you are, ma c/ierc ; I fear it will at last
spoil your peace. I do not see how the Count D'Orsay
can fail to win your heart. Do not decide hastily, Adele."

" I have considered (he affair a lomx time already. I
have looked into my heart and find nothing there, for
Count D'Orsay,but simple respect, esteem, and friendship.
7t would be a wrong to him, should I consent to marry
him, without a warmer, deeper sentiment. Jt is of n(j use
thinking about it longer. The subject must be closed. I
know I shall not change, and his affection is too true and
pure to be tampered with. I shall tell him all frankly
next week."

" E/i, him!" said jNIrs. Dubois, with a sigh, and returned
to her letters.

Adele, who felt quite unhappy to disappoint her mother's
hopes in the case, looked thoughtful. They were both
silent for several minutes. «►

" Here is a letter from the good missionary," suddenly
whispered INIrs. Dubois, holding up to her daughter several
sheets of large paper, well covered. " Sec what a nice
long one. Now we shall hear the news from our old home."

She began to read the missive in a low tone, looking oc-
casionally to see if her voice disturbed the sleeper, and

tl
11

111
or
id
te
fr.
in;
of

str
wc
di^
ani
wll
spi
iull
iuc

away a true, devoted
e. I fear that, •svhile
incss will slip out of

I Adt'lc, a sli^lit red

3amiiig and waitinLr ? "

; I fear it will at last

the Count D'Or.say

ecidc hastily, Adele."

)ng time already. I

id nothing there, for

teem, and friendship.

I I consent to marry

lent. It is of no use

;t must be closed. I

ection is too true and

tell him all frankly

b a sigh, and returned

sappoint her mother's
d. They were both

•-
nissionary," suddenly
her daughter several
" See what a nice
3 from our old home."
ow tone, looking o§-
led the sleeper, and

BrmAMicni.

201

Adelc, whoso countenance had instantly brightened upon
the mention of the letter, drew her seat nearer to her
mother and listened intently.

I\IiRA3ircni Rn'EB, Apkil, 1828.
Dear Fkiends —

I am again on the memorable spot. You
can scarcely imn^ine my interest in retracing the scene of
my brief missron here, in the summer and autumn of 1825,
or the deep emotion with which I revisit your former res-
idence, the house under whose roof you so kindly shel-
tered and entertained one, then exiled, like yourselves,
from home. I shall ever rejoice that Providence threw me
into your society, and bestowed upon me the precious gift
of your friendship.

Three years have passed since those eventful weeks wo
spent together, on the banks of this beautiful river, and
you will be interested to know what changes have taken
place here during that time.

Traces are still distinctly visible of the awful fire, but
Time, the great healer of wounds, and Nature, who is, ever
striving to cover up the desolations of earth, are both at
Avork, silently but diligently overlaying the hideous black
disfigurement with greenness and beauty. The Mlramiohi
and its picturesque jirecincts are now more alive than ever,
with a hardy and active population. New villages are
s])ringing up on the banks of the river, and business, espec-
ially in the branches of lumbering and fishing, is greatly
inci'easing. There is also a marvellous change in the moral

202

MTRAMICin.

asjicct of the country. It is ascribccl in a great tlogrco to
the deep impression made iqxni the minds of the peoplT; liy
the conflagration, and doubtless this is the fact. It must
be that God had a retiibutory end in view in that great
event. It was a judgment upon the community for its
exceeding wickedness. Nothing short of a grand, wide-
spread illumination like that, could have penetrated tlie
gross darkness that hung over the land.

The way li^s been thus prepared for the reception of the
truth ; and whereas formerly the people, if they came at
all to hear the preaching of God's word, were only drawn
by motives of vain curiosity, or the desire of novelty, thoy
now come in great numbers aftd with a sincere desire, as I
believe, to be instructed in the way of salvation. La.<t
year, I came to this region early in the spring and labored
until late in the autumn, preaching up and down the river,
from house to house and from grove to grove, and found
the people, almost everywhere, ready to hear. Many
were baptized in the flowing waters of the Miramichi, made
a profession of their tiiith in Christ, and have since exhib-
ited in their daily lives, good and in some cases shininn;
evidence of their sincerity.

You may perhaps be interested to know that yesterday,
which was the Sabbath, 1 discoursed, as in days gone by,
in Alicah's Grove. The people came in from a great
distance around, and It was estimated that there were not
less than eight hundred present.

]\ly soul was completely filled with a sense of God's
unbounded love to the human family, and my heart was

l><

re
a
w
th

pr
])r
an

801

601

.Sc

tll(
tll(

he;
to,
im
Ml
wo
fai
ho;
Til

the

bed ill a great dogroo to
minds of tho peopl?; \)y
is IS tho fact. It must
I in view in tli.it great
the community foi its
liort of a grand, wido-
d have penetrated tlie
fmd.

for the reception of tlie
)eople, if they came at
rord, were only drawn
desire of novelty, they
til a sincere desire, as I
ay of salvation. Last
the spring and labored
up and down the river,
ve to grove, and found
cady to hear. Many
of the iNIiraniichi, made
and have since exhib-

m some cases sliiniii!i'

) know that yesterday,
;d, as in days gone by,
'amo in from a great
;ed that there were not

with a sense of God's
ily, and my heart was

MinAJIICIII.

203

enlarged to speak of the wonderful things belonging to Ilia
,i,n)odness and mercy towards us, as a race. I was like a
bottle filled with new wine, my heart overflowing with the
remembrance of God's love. Conviction was carried in
a most signal manner to the souls of many present. The
whole assembly seemed for a time to be overshadowed l)y
the immediate Divine presence.

It is remarkable, that though the people do at the
jircsent time seem to be under profound religious im-
])rcssions, yet there are scarcely any traces of the dclusioa
and wildfire usually accompanying such seasons, among a
somewhat uncultivated and undisciplined population. That
great fire sobered them, perhaps.

But, my dear friends, I know you are impatient to hear
some' details respecting the state of affairs at the " Dubois
Settlement," so called from the grateful attachment felt by
the inhabitants for a distinguished family once residiu'^-
there. The new people who have established themselves
icrc of late, ai-e acquainted with the family just alluded
to, of course only by tradition, but so deep has been the
impression made upon the minds of the new comers, by
Mrs. IMcXab, Micah Mummychog, and others, of the
Avorth, benevolence, power, and present grandeur of said
family, that these persons are more than willing, they feel
ignored in retaining the name of Dubois in this parish.
The above is written, to elucidate to your minds the fact,
ob\ ions enough here, that you are not forgotten.

Now, you will wish to hear what has befallen some of
the queer notabilities of the Settlement. By courtesy, I

204

MIU.UIICIII,

begin with Mrs. McNab. You will romcmbcr her, as tlio
general oniclo and adviser of a eertain portion of tlio
lenialc population in the neighboriiood, and as greatly
opposed to some of the " doctreenes," as she eallcd my
instructions to the people. Well, she remains in her
entireness and individuality, her costume as grotesque and
her speech as Scotch as ever.

You will be surprised, however, to learn that she has a
fjir more favorable opinion of your humble servant than
formerly. I have had some difficulty in accounting for
this change in her disposition. It seems, however, that she
had early taken a prejudice against Yankees, and had got an
idea, in the beginning, that I had some wily and sinister in-
tentions toward the people, connected Avith my labors here.
No developments of that kind having been made, she be-
gan to look more complacently upon my efforts, and she
thinks now that the way in • which I have endeavored to
lead the community, is not so bad after all.

" The warst thing I had agen ye, was this," she said to
mc not long since. '< My mcenister o' the Kirk at Dum-
fries used to preach that a pusson, might repent o' his sins,
an' pray and pray a' his life lang, but wad nae ken, in this
warld, whether or nae he was to be saved. Whereas, ye
ken ye told the people that cf they repented o' their sins
and believed in Christ and gave the evidence o' gude warks
they might settle right doon, and ken they'd be saved,
anyhow. I ca' that a peskalent doctrecn, an a loose anc
to proraoolgate. Though I must confess, ye hae na duue
the meeschief I luked for."

ai
ni
sii
in
(li

fii
th
ac
b(

r'
:\i

h
d(

ot
Ov
fil

MIR.UIICIII.

205

I remember her, as tlic
certain portion of the
iriiood, and as greatly
1C3," as she called my
.1, she remains in her
itume as grotesque and

to learn that she has a
r humble servant than
:ulty in accounting fur
cems, however, that she
fankces, and had got an
me wily and sinister in-
cd with my labors here.
Dg been made, she bo-
on my efforts, and she
I have endeavored to
ifter all.

', was this," she said to
2r o' the Kirk at Dum-
night repent o' his sins,
ut wad nae ken, in this
e saved. Whereas, ye
y repented o' their sins
evidence o' gude warks
ken they'd be saved,
Dctreen, an a loose anc
jnfess, ye hae na duue

I did not think it best to go into a discussion of our the-
ological difTerences, lest it should stir up tlie waters of
strife, and tiiercfore waived the subject.

Mrs. MeNab occupies two comfortable rooms at Mrs.
Campbell's house, from whence she issues forth, whenever
occasion calls, to perform the duties of nurse, counsellor,
and supervisor-general of the domestic affairs of the com-
munity. The tea-drinkings in her parlor seem to be occa-
sions of great social enjoyment to the fortunate neighbors
invited. After the regular gossip of the day has been
discussed, she entertains her company with the same old
Btoriea of her former life in Scotland, among its grand
families, and to these she has added, for the benefit of
those who have more recently come into the Settlenjent,
accounts of the •♦ Doobyce " family, characterizing its mem-
bers by remarking, that " Mr. Doobyce was a braw,
princely mon, his wife a sweet, fair spoken leddy, an'
]\Iiss Ady was a born queen, ef there ever was ane.
IShe had her ane way wi' everybody, an' e'en I mysel'
hue gien up to her, whiles."

jMicah Mummychog, aliod Jones, Miss Adele's special
devotee, never a bad-licarted person, has now become one
of the iiilluential men of the neighborhood, and sustains here
every good word and work. About a year after the great
fire, ho had a long and dangerous illness, brought on by
great exposure to cold while lumbering in the woods.

Mrs. McNab voluntarily went to his house and took care
of him most assiduously, for many weeks, until his recov-
ery. Micah said, that " it looked remarkable kind in tha
18

206

MIKAMICin.

old soul to come of her own accord and take kecr of liiin,
when ho 'd allurs iiliiL^ucd her so unmascifully."

lie felt very <j;ratofnl to her and paid her handsiomcly for
her services. Nevertheless, ho teases her yet occasionally
and says ♦' he dont know neow, which skeercd him most,
the great fire, or comin' to his senses one night when lie
was sick, and seein' Aunt McNab with her head wrojjpcJ
up In its cotton night gear."

Subsequent to Alicah's recovery, he went to the Kcnne
bee lliver and visited his friends. After his return, he
commenced trading, and is now doing quite an extensive
business. He has entirely broken off from his old habits
of swearing and gaml)ling, and discountenances them
among the people. lie attends religious worship constantly,
and sets a worthy example in keeping the Sabbath day
He is also getting his ideas up on the subject of educa^
tiou. Not long since, he told me it was his opinion that
** there \r<u'n't half school larnin' enuf among the people,
and there 'd oug"?'ter to be longer schools. There 'a Jiaiiy
Campbell, there, a b ".'tfht leetle imp as ever was, and cf
she 'd had a chance woUi'^ ^ taken to her books, like a
chicken to a dough dish. And i''cre 's others, most as smart
as she is, all reound, that need sclioo''^'* ^ ft^l the want
of it myself, neow its tew late to git it."

A few days ago, Micah told me he expecfca to build a
new house for himself soon.

"Ah! Micah," said I, «« have you got tired of that
comfortable old house of yours, where we have had so
many nice suppers and cosey times to<'ether ? "

nev

fell

(low

•' a
«

tiilk

cam

^\'cl

sicki

Can

cliicl

liiie.

pitif

may

as I

anyi

Ant

the

way,

I tell

per a
tutli
he 1

and take kcer of him,

[lascif'ully."

aid her haiultsomely for

J.S her yet occasioniilly

lich ekeercd him most,

es one night when he

rith her head wrojjpcd

MIRAMICni.

207

\\c went to the Kenne
After liid return, he
a<r quite an extensive
if from hid old hahits
discountenances thoin
)U9 worship constantly
ling the Sabbath day
the subject of educa^
t was his opinion that
luf among the people,
ools. There 'a Jinny
) as ever was, and cf
to her books, like a
s others, most as smart
i.'ia'. 1 fgel the want
it."
expectda to build a

i^ou got tired of that
ere we have had so
jjether? "

"Well, no, Captin'; I hain't, and I'm afeerd I shall
never like another place ns 1 dew that. But ye sec, ef a
filler is a goin' to yil merried, he 'a got to stir rcound and
(lew what suits other Mka as well as hissclf."

" Married I jNlicah," I said, in complete astonishment,
•' are you going to be married?"

" That's jest the way I expected yeoull look," said he,
" when I- told ye abeout it, because ye knew I used to
talk agin it, like fury. But ye see, Captin' ; I aint just aa
I used to be, abeout some things. I '11 tell ye heow it
came reound, any heow, so as to sahtisfy ye T ain't crazy.
■\\'ell, when'I was a beginnin' to git better o' that terablo
sickness, the fust and only one I ever had in my life, Miss '
Campbell, she used to send Jinny up, with bits o' briled
chicken, nice broth and sech, to kinder tempt my appetite
like. The little critter used to bring 'em in and be so
pitiful to me and say, do ]Micah try to eat this, so that you
may git well ; and she seemed so pooty, sincere and nateral
"kc in all her ways, that I took to her mightily, specially
as I had n't Miss Adele to look arter and chore reound for,
any more. Once or twice, when she came to bring suthin,'
Aiit McXab kinder advised her to do this and that, and
the way the leetle critter spunked up and had her own
way, made me think o' Miss Adele and pleased me some,
I tell ye.

' Well, arter I got well, she seemed to be just as chip-
per and pleasant as ever, and was allers glad when I went
lu the hcouse, and so it went on (I won't bother abeout
le rest on't) till six montha ago. Aa I was a walkin'

ill I

208

MIUVMTCm.

hum from n mcctin' at the Grove with licr, she scd, ' whiit
a pooty Grove that ia, of youra, Miciih ; ' Witheout a
considcrin* a half a niinit, I Hcd, right away, ' Jinny, I'd
give ycou that Grove and all I have bcaidc, upon one condi-
tion.' I looked at her, artcr I 'd sed it, as skecrcd as I
could be, fur fear she M ily right at mc, fur sayin' sech a
thing. But nhc did n't. She only colored up awfully and
eed, in a fluttered kinder way, ' what condition, Micah?fc

• Pon condition that you 'd merry me. Jinny.' You may
believe that arter I sed that, my heart stood still, better 'n
a minit. She didn't say a word at fust, eeemed ruther
took by surprise, and then, all of a sudding, shcturned Iier
liead and looked up inter my face as sarcy as ye ever see
anytliing, and says she, * Do yeou think I 'd ever merry a
man with sech a horrid name as Mummyehog? ' ♦ la that
all the objection you hev. Jinny?' ses I. Sea she, ' 'Tia
the greatest, I know of.' Then ses I, ♦ There ain't no
ditlikilty, for my name aint Mummyehog, and never was.
When I came deown to this kcntry, I was a wild, reckless
kind of a critter, and I thought 1 'd take some outlandi.'^h
name, jest for the joke on it. I took Mummyehog, and
they allers called me so. But my real name is Jones.'

• Well, Mr. Jones,' sea she, lookln ' sarcier than ever,

• I shall expect yeou to hev a sign painted with your real
name on it and put up on your store, and yeou must build
a new heouse before I merry yeou.' That sobered mo
deown a leetle. I sed, « But Jinny, T di>n't want ye to
merry me, unless ye like me. I 'II build a heouse and gin
it tew yc, ef that 'a what ye want. But ye need n't merry

at t

lian

nici

i.uil

]ilu(

1 li

Aiu

nc(»
i

COUl

choi

bllO

I'm

sid'ii
full]
abcc
So (
tell
Slie
licet
iiif 1
utf,
unyt
A
mesl
iiuve

:h licr, she scd, ' what
^licuh ; * Witlieout n
ht nway, ' Jinny, I'd
jsiilc, upon one condi-
il it, na skccrcd as I
i mc, fur sayin' ecch a
idorcd up awfully and
it condition, Micali?fc
c, Jinny.' You may
•t stood still, better 'n
t fust, Bccnicd ruthcr
iddin'f, shcturned Iior
9 sarcy as ye ever see
link I 'd ever merry a
unychog? ' ♦ Is that
IS I. Ses she, ' 'T is
ea I, ♦ There ain't no
eliog, and never was.
[ was a wild, reckless
take some outlandi.^h
ok Mummychog, and
real name is Jones.'
i' sarcier than ever,
ainted with your rcid
, and yeou must build
' That sobered mo
/, I don't want ye to
mild a heouse and gin
But ye need n't merry

Mm.uiiciii.

209

nic unless yn like mc — ncow remember.' She looked
at mc, jest as soon as I scd that, and caught up my big
hand inter her litthj one, and ses she, ' law, Micah, I 'd
niorry yc ef ycr name iims Mununychog, and ye need n't
liuild a licouso, nor nuthiu'. I ken go riglit to the old
]iliice jest as well. I'd merry ye ef ye hadn't n cent, for
I like yo better 'n anybody else in the world, IMicah.*
And then she began to cry, and I hushed her up. And so,
ncow it 's all settled."

" Well Micaii," said I, after hearing this account of hia
cuiirtship of Jenny Campbell, •' I congratulate you on your
clioice ; Jenny is a good girl and a pretty one. But la n't
t-lie ratlier young? "

" Well, yis. I thought yeou 'd be spcakin' o' that.
I 'ni forty year old and she 's abcout eighteen, or so. Con-
sid'able dilference in eour ages. I told her abcout that
t'other day, and she scd, well she did n't see but I 'peared
abcout as young as she did. Slie didn 't see much difference.
8o ef she 's sahtisfied, I'd oughter be. But Captin,' I '11
tell ye, she's a curus leetle critter as ever ye see.
She lias spells of playin' off all kinds o' tricks on me and
hectorin' me every way she ken, but the minit she sees
me look sober, as ef I felt any way iJad, she leaves right
utf, and comes up and kisses me, and ses she didn't mean
iinytliing by it, and is as good as a kitten."

Alas ! poor Micah ! You see, Miss Adele, he is in the
meshes, and there we must leave him for the present. I
have taken pains to give you the above in his own lan-
18^

210

MmAMinri.

pimRc, as It is so much inoro grnpliic tlmn any I cuuM
employ.

My letter of Mlnimiclii f^ossip hiis swollen, uncoascioiiJ'ly,
to nn enunnourt bIzc, uiul I feiir I urn jjettin^ tedioii.s. IK;
piuienf II lew ininute" Itiigi r, dear friends), while I tell yuu
of Mr. .lolin Liu..' d. i ■>.

I happened ii tho uity ol V — liint winter, on hnsinesn,
and juHt 'icf'orc lo.tving town I wont to call on Mr. Lan.^-
downe. Aunt Esther, Mr. John's nurse, an Ofjjcd ne;,'ro
wouiiin who hu8 b<en a nicniher of the hou.^elioM many
years, annwerod my rinp at the door. FIndin;,' that nunc
of the family were at home, 1 was tm-nini,' to leave wlh'u
Aunt Esther Iv jrijed mc toeomc in, .sayinj,' she reckoned they
would soon he l)a(!k, as they had already heen several Iniurs
absent, adding, good soul, that "they'd all ho drelFuUy
dinapinted not to see mc."

I knew that several months prior to this, Mr. Lans-
downe had heen iidmitted to the practice of law and had
become junior partner in business, to the distinguished Mr.
Eldon of P. And I now gathered from Aunt Esther,
that the Supreme Court was in session, and^hat a great
criminal case was being tried before the jury. Mr. Ehlon
had been taken ill, just before the trial came on, and
had urged Mr. Lansdowne to take his place In Court,
saying, he could arguo the case as well us himself. Mr.
John, as Aunt Esther informed mc, lid it with great reluc-
tance, though she didn't see why. lie always docs
everyt'* '"he sets out to do, 'markable nice. But Massa
and Missus felt kind of anxious, and thoyv'e gone into

I I
tal

fo'
tl>
Ji
II

t*ii
to
tu

fii

w
tc

Miitvsrirni.

911

lie timn any I could

,'(>ll(>n, uncDiucioii-'ly,
jjcttiny U'dious. IJo
•iidM, while I tell you

winltT, on hiisliicsH,
:o cull on Mr. L!iiif<-
iiirao, an nj^cd nr^^ro
the liou.selinld iniiiiy
Findinf^ tlmt noiio
wniM^' to k'iivo wlh'u
iiij,' she reckoned the y
ily been tfoveral hours
ey 'd till bo drelluUy

' to this, yiv. Liins-
Jtioo of law and hud
ho dlstinguiyhcd Mr.

from Aunt Esther,
on, and«thiit u <;rcat
lie jury. Mr. Ehlon
! trial came on, and

his place In Court,
ell aa himself. Mr.
id it with great reluc-
He always docs
lo nice. Vnit Massa
id thcyv'e gone into

Court, with other gemmon and Indien, to hew how 't goes.
1 feel no conccni uLwmt it. I kno v he'll make a splen'id
talk, tmyhow, ws he always docs,"

After waiting half an hour, I was obliged t<> ''ti^vo
nii'ssagea of regret with An it Kftlier lUid hasten hoi« .

I observed in •' The Ea-itcrn (lazctte " of «t«o
following wceh, a notice <«f Mr. Lansdowne'« pies* befor
the jury, in the great ease of •• The Cominonwenlth »'«■
Jenkins," in whicli he wiw eulogized in the hiirhoHt rms.
lie waa said to have di-iphiyed " great lu nnen, t '«n-
cive legal acquirement , and niagniliocnt powers of .»«»-
tory." So, Aunt Estli- r's conlidenec, about the " s^/U-n'i'
(alk," was not without ; reasonable basis.

1 was highly grati&«!u myself, in reading the flatter*'
paragraphs. You know e idl greatly admired the yuan
gentleman at ^Miramiehi lie has a brilliant earths
futillfc before him, should his life ami faculli's be spared

Micah was much eharmctl with the intelligcu .c 1 brougl*
him of his old favorite.

•' I ain't a mite surprised it what youv'c sea abcout the
yotmg man. Ever eenco I t. >)k tlmt trip inter the woods
with him, I know'd he'd the gcnooinc ring o' trew metal
tew him. When he gits to be President o' the United
States, I shall sell cout here ami go hum to the Kennebec."

Please let me hear from you soon, my dear friends. It
seems long since 1 have h.'d tiil ngs from you.

With an abiding gratitude fo [last kindness, shown by
you to a weary wanderer fr n home, and with the
warmest respect and friendship, ^ remain as ever,

Yours truly,

Samuel J. Norton.

Ull

212

IMIIIAMICIII.

IMrs. Dubois not having hut one pair of eyes, and those
being fully oecui)icd with the contents of the above letter,
and the Count do Rossillon remaining asleep during the en-
tire reading, of course it could not he expected that they
observed the changes that took place on Adele's counte-
nance. But- an author, as is well known, has ways and
means of observation not common to others, and here it
may be remarked, that that young lady's face, had exhib-
ited, during the last fifteen minutes, or more, quite a variety
of emotions. It had at first, been thoughtful and interest-
ed, then lighted with smiles, then radiant with enjoyment
of the good missionary's sketches of Mrs. McNab and
Micah. But the moment her mother read the name of
John Lansdowne, her face was suffused with a deep crim-
son, and she listened almost breathlessly, and with glisten-
ing eyes, to the close.

" Oh I the good noble man !" said Mrs. Dubois, as she
folded up the sheets. " It will please your father to read
this, where ia he, Adele?"

'«He rode away with Pierre, not long ago. Please let
me take the letter. I must read it again," said Adele,
having conquered her emotion, without her mother perceiv-

mg it.

She took it away to her own boudoir, and as she read
the pages, the flowing tears fell fast. Why sliould she
weep over such a cheerful letter as that ? Why ?

th
C

I"
of

th
h{

1"
t'l]

of eyes, and those
jf the above letter,
sleep (luring the en-
! expected that they
on Adele's counte-
own, has ways and
others, and here it
y'a face, had exhib-
lore, quite a variety
ghtful and interest-
ant with enjoyment
JMrs. McNab and
read the name of
I with a deep crim-
r, and with glisten-

[rs. Dubois, as she
>'our father to read

? ago. Please let
jain," said Adele,
ler mother perceiv-

r, and as she read
Why should she
Why?

CHAPTER XXV.

THE LAST SLEEP.

Ad^le had long since discovered that the events of
greatest interest in her life had transpired before she entered
the walls of Rossillon, or mingled in the festivities of the
Court at Paris.

The scenes that occurred at ]VIiramichi, during Mr. Lans-
downe's accidental residence there, were fraught with a
power over her heart, continually deepening with the flight
of time. Those golden days, when their lives flowed side
by side, had been filled with the strange, sweet agitations,
the aerial dreams, the bewitching glamour, the intoxicating
happiness of a first and youthful love. Those days were im-
printed yet more deeply in her memory by a consciousness
that there was somewhat with which to reproach herself,
connected with them. Just when she had reached the top
of bliss, her pride had sprung up, and like a dark storm-
cloud, had shadowed the scene. She could not forget that
cold, sad parting from her lover.

And now, though the oeean rolled between them, and
the spheres in vvhich each moved were so widely separated
and the years had come and gone, she was yet calculating

214

MIRAJIICin.

and balancing the probabilities, that they might meet again
and tiic wrong of the pas^t be cancelled.

jVIr. Lansdowne had been plodding among musty law
books and threading legal intricacies, with ..ccasioual in-
terrnptions, caused by fits of impatience and disgust at the
detail and tedium of study, until he had at length fought
his way through and placed himself in the fro°nt rank of
his profession. His brilliant achievement in the famous
Jenkins case, in the outset of his career, had at once won
for him a position at the bar which most young men have
to toil years to obtain. His family was wealthy and influ-
ential. It was not strange that with these advantages,
imited to the possession of remarkable personal beauty, he
should be the centre of a numerous group of friends and
admirers. He was the object of pride among the
older barristers and gentlemen of the bench, the cynosure
of the young men, and the one among a, thousand whom
elegant mammas and smiling maidens wooed with their
eclectest influences.

Yet one great element of earthly happiness was wanting
to his life. He could not forget the enchantment of those
days spent in the far-oflf wilds of Miramlchi. He turned
continually to those scenes, as the most prominent of his
existence. There he had stepped from boyhood into man-
hood. There he had seen life in new and before untried
forms. He had there witnessed a wonderful display of
God's power through the terrible agency of the all-devour-
ing flame, and there, for the first time, he had confronted
death and sorrow. There, he had loved once and as ho

a
fi
tl:
h(

pn
ail
ca
of

an
spi
<iV(
pro

ey might meet again

: among musty law

with '.ccasioual in-
;e and disgust at the
d at leni^tij fouirht
1 the front rank of
neut in the famuua
r, had at once won
st young men have
I wealtliy and influ-

these advantages,
personal beauty, he
oup of friends and
iride among the
ench, the cynosure

a thousand whom

wooed with their

)ines3 was wantincr
hantment of those
nichi. Pie turned
t prominent of his
•oyhood into man-
md before untried
aderful display of
of the all-devour-
lic had confronted
d once and as he

MIUAMICITI.

215

toheved forever. He recalled Adelc, as she first appeared
t.ofore hnn,_ an unexpected vision of beauty, in all her
careless grace and sweet, confiding frankness ; in her mo-
ments of stately pride, when she chilled him from lu,r side
and kept him afar oflT; and in her moments of affectionate
kindness, and generous enthusiasm. In short, in all her
changeful moods she was daily flitting before him and he
confessed to himself, that he had never met a bein^ so rich
.n nature and varied in powers, so noble in impulse and
purpose, so peerlessly beautiful in person. -

Thus he lived on fro.n day to day, rememberin- and
jearnmg and dreaming, _ the ocean yawning between him
and his love. Concealed in the depths of his soul, there
was, however, a hope fondly cherished, and a purpose half
lonned.

A few weeks after the reception of Mr. Norton's letter
the Count de Rossillon died. Sitting, as usual, in his
great purple-cushioned arm-chair, taking his afternoon nap,
he expired so gently that Mrs. Dubois, who was readino-
by the window, did not know, or even suspect, when the
partuig between spirit and body occurred. Kindly, crenial
and peaceful had been his last years, and his life went out
calmly as the light of day goes out amid the mellow tints
of a pleasant autumn sunset.

When Mrs. Dubois went to arouse him from what seemci

an unusually long slumber, she found a volume of Fonelon

q)read open upon his knee, and turning it., her eye ran

«ivcr passages full of lofty and devout aspiration. These,

proba^lv expressed the latest thoughts and desires of the

21G

Mm.v3ucin.

good chevalier, for as she looked from the pages to his
face, turned upward toward the ceiling, a smile of assent
and satisfaction was still lingering there, although his
breath had departed and his pulse was still.

Mrs. Dubois stooped to kiss the forehead of her uncle,
but started back with a sudden thrill of fear. She gazed
searchingly at him for a moment, and then she knew that
Death, the conqueror, stood there with her, looking upon
his completed work.

After the first shock of surprise was over, she remained
gazing upon the spectacle in perfect silence. A truly
devout Catholic, in her grief she leaned with all a
woman's trust and confidingndss upon the love and power
of Christ, and something of the divine calmness which
■we associate wiLl; the character of the mother of our Lord,
and which has been so wonderfully depicted to the eye by
some of the older painters, pervaded her spirit.

As she thus stood, spellbound, entranced, her eyes
fixed upon the noble features irradiated with a smile of
content and peace, the long silvery locks parted away from
the forehead and flowing around the head, like a halo, she
thought it the countenance of a saint, and her poetic fancy
created at once a vision of the Saviour, with an aspect
grand, glorious, yet gracious and benign, placing with
His right hand a golden jewelled crown upon her uncle's
head. A cloud swept up over the gorgeous earthliness of
the great Rubens picture, and from out its folds shone
sweet and smiling angel faces, looking down upon ihe
ecoue.

MiRAjncm.

217

•om the pages to his
ing, a smile of assent

there, although his
3 still,
archcad of her uncle,

of fear. She gazed
d then she knew that
th her, looking upon

is over, she remained
;t silence. A truly
leaned with all a
n the love and power
k^ine calmness which
3 mother of our Lord,
lepicted to the eye by

her spirit.

entranced, her eyes
uted with a smile of
cks parted away from
head, like a halo, she
, and her poetic fancy
iour, with an aspect
)enign, placing with
)wn upon her uncle's
orgeous earthliness of
I out its folds shone
:ing down upon ihe

Mrs. Dubois never knew how long she remained thus ab-
sorbed. She was first aroused by hearing a voice sayin^',
in tones of fervor, *« How blessed it is to die 1 " And
Adele, who had entered the room a little time before, and
had uttered these words, stepped forward and imprinted a
kiss upon the pale uplifted brow of the sleeper.

CHAPTER XXVI.

pojirEii.

About this period, Mrs. Lansdowne, whose health had
been declining for nearly a year, was urgently advised by
her physician to seek a milder climate. John immediately
offered himself as her comjiagmn dc voyage, and manifested
great alacrity in the preparations for their departure for
Italy.

After a favorable sea passage, they landed at Civita
Vccchia, and, with brief delays at Rome and Naples, went
to Sorrento, intending to remain there several months.

This place combines the most striking peculiarities of
Italian scenery. It stands on a wide and beautiful plain,
shut in by the mountains and the sea. The fertile soil
produces oranges, lemons, grapes, and figs of the richest
quality and in great abundance. The coast line, a wall of
volcanic rock, is broken into varied forms, by the constant
action of the waters. Here, they spent day after day, ram-
bling about the ol(ttown, making excursions into the neigh-
boring mountains, or crossing the bay to different points
of interest. They delighted particularly m sailing under
the shadow of the cliffs, watching the varying colors, blue,
purple, and green, presented by the glassy surface, peering

b(
til
cl
ill
(lii

lis
sai

ga
br,

ex(

(

tov
mu

t\V(

tioi
the
city
moi
pec

into

wbc

rne, whose health had
8 urgently advised by
3. John immediately
mjage, and manifested
)r their departure for

hey landed at Civita
)me and Naples, went
:e several months,
riking peculiarities of
le and beautiful plain,
sea. The fertile soil
md figs of the richest
le coast line, a wall of
brms, by the constant
nt day after day, ram-
irsions into the neigh-
ly to different points
darly in sailing under
! varying colors, blue,
lassy surface, peering

MIIUMICIir.

219

into the arched caverns, worn into the rock by the waves
and looking upward at the gay profusion of wild flowers,
which, growing in every crevice, adorned its face with
beauty. From the balcony of the house they occupied,
they looked upon gardens, invisible from the street, so
closely were they walled in from the view of the passer by,
and beheld orange and lemon trees, with rounded tops of
(lark green foliage, golden fruit, and snowy blossoms. The
soft air permitted them to sit during the evenings and
listen to the whisper of the sea on the beach, to watch the
sails of the fishing vessels gleaming in the moonlight, and
gaze at the dark form of Vesuvius, with liis lighted torch,
brooding at a distance, over the scene.

A month had thus passed away. A marked improve-
ment had taken place in Mrs. Lansdowne's health, and
John proposed that they should go to Naijles and make an
excursion thence to Pompeii.

One morning, they drove out from the swarming city
toward those famous ruins, revealing to the curious so
much of the old Roman civilization. After a drive of
twelve miles past fields of lava and ashes, the accumula-
tions from recent irruptions of Vesuvius, they arrived at
the street of tombs, a fitting entrance to the desolated
city. Here, the beautifully sculptured monuments, me-
morials of a departed generation, awoke in then" hearts a
peculiar interest. Through these they entered at once
into the inner life of joys and aorrows of an extinct race.
" How terrible death must have been to these people,
whose ideas of the future world were so vague and unsatis-

220

HIinAMICIII.

fyinjz, and who liad really no knowledge of immortality ! "
said Mrs. Lansduwi"^.

"Yes," replied John. "And with nothing brighter
ov more glorious to look forward to in the beyond, how
reluctant they must have felt to leave these glowing skies,
this delicious air, these scenes of beauty and art, for the
darkness of the grave. I fancy it nmst have been harder
for them than if they had been surrounded with the sombre
tints, the chilling atmosphere, and the more subdued forms
of life in our own clime."

Leaving the cemetery, they passed on through the
narrow streets, paved with blocks of lava, on which were
the traces of carriage wheels worn into the material more
than eighteen hundred years ago. They went into the
Pompeian houses, walked over the marble mosaic floors,
looked at the paintings on the walls, examined the bronzes,
the statues, the domestic utensils, the shop of the oil mer-
chant, with his name on Jl still legible, until, in imagina-
tion, they began to people the solitude, — bringing back
the gay, luxurious, beauty-loving Pompeians again to live
and revel in their former haunts.

At length, quite exhaii ted, Mrs. Lansdowne sank down
on a seat in one of the porticoes, and John, placing himself
by her side, tempted her to partake of a lunch he had
provided for the occasion.

Soon, the pensive influences of the scene stole over them,
and they sat for some time in perfect silence.

Mrs. Lansdowne first interrupted it, by exclaiming,
" John, what are you thinking of ?"

(,f
re
th
w!

th
th

80
CC
th

•im
or
b^
ca

hi
hi

MIRAMICni.

221

(Ige of imniortnllty ! "

vith nothing brighter
i in the beyond, how
e these glowing akiets,
Jiiuty and art, for the
uist have been harder
inded with the sombre
le more subdued forms

3sed on through the
■ lava, on which were
ato the material more
They went into the
marble mosaic floors,
examined the bronzes,
le shop of the oil mer-
ble, until, in iraagina-
ude, — bringing back
>miJei;\ns again to live

Lansdowne sank down
IJohn, placing himself
ke of a lunch he had

! scene stole over them,
silence,
id it, by exclaiming,

«♦ Thinking of I why I was thinking just then how those
rompeiiins used to sit in these porticoes and talk of the dccda
of Cajsar and of the eloquence of Cicero, while thoso
renowned men were yet living, and how they discussed
tlic great combats in the amphitheatres of Rome. And
wliat were you cogitating, my dear mother?" said he,
smiling.

•' Oh ! I was thinking woman's thoughts. How slowly
they excavate here I I have an extreme curiosity to know
vvhat there is, yet uncovered to the light of day, beyond
that dead wall of ashes."

*' If I were a magician, I would apply to your eyes
some unguent, which should unveil what is there con-
cealed," said John, smiling. "Will you go now to the
theatre?"

He drew his mother's arm within his, and they moved
on. That portion of the city appeared as if it had been
partially destroyed by a conflagration.

Looking towards Vesuvius, he said#<'I can easily
•imagine the sensations of those who gazed at the volcano
on that terrible day and saw for the first time its flamca
bursting out, and throwing their horrid glare on the snow-
capped mountains around. Fire is a tremendous element."

As he uttered the words, the scene of the great confla-
gration at Miramichi rose to his view.

" Salve ! Salve ! " exclaimed a rich, musical voice near*
him, just at that moment. •

Tiie word and the tone In which It was uttered, thrilled
liim, like an electric shock. He looked, with a bewildered

222

MIUAMICIII.

nir, in the direction from whence the voice proceeded, and
Bttw, Htandinjjf before tiic threshold of one of the I'onipeinii
houses, n tall, elegant fenmlc figure, habited in mourning.

Her eyc8 were fixed upon the word of salutation, written
on the thre'^hold, at the entrance. After contoniplating It
n moment, nhc turned her head involuntarily towards Mr.
Lansdownc, who stood transfixed to the spot. Their eyes
met in instant recognition. Neither moved — they were
both paralyzed with sudden emotion.

Mrs. Lanadownc looked up in surprise.

•' What is it, John?"

♦' It Is," said he, recovering himself, " it Is, that I am
astonished to meet here, so unexpecteflly, a friend whom
I supposed to be in France — certainly not here."

lie led his mother forward a few steps and presented her
to iVIudemoisclle Dubois.

M. and Mdmo. Dubois, who were standing n little
apart, examining some objects of interest, while this scene
of recognition tMnspired, now joined the group and were
presented to Mrs. Lansdowne. During the remainder of«
the day, the two families formed one party.

They visited the ruined theatre, the Forum, the temples
of Isis and Hercules, but the spell of Pompeii no longer
bound the souls of John and Adele. It is true, they
walked on, sometimes side by aide, sometimes with other
forms between, absorbed, entranced ; but a spirit more
potent than jftiy inb ibiting the walls of the old Koman city
had touched the powers of their being and woven its sor-
ceries around them. The living present had suddenly shut
out the past.

MinAMICIII.

22.1

i voice pronecded, aiiil
f one of the Pompciiiri
, Imbitcd in mourning;.
I ot'suliitiition, written
Alter contoniplalin;; it
)luntiirily towiinls Mr.
> the spot. Their eyes
• moved — they were

prise.

ielf, "it is, thiit I iiin
;;teflly, a friend whom
inly not here."
teps and presented her

vcre standing n little
terest, while this scene
J the group and were
iring the remainder of*
! party.

le Forum, the temples
of Pompeii no longer
lele. It is true, they
, sometimes with other
d ; but a spirit more
of the old Roman city
ng and woven its sor-
sent had suddenly shut

So, after three years, they had met. Such meetings
are critical. In the liip?o of time, what changes may oc-
cur I There \n so much in life to mar the loveliest and
noMcst ! In regard to character, of course no one can stand
Htill. There is either a process of deterioration going
on, or a work of intellectual and spiritual advancement.
Memory and imagination glorify the absent and the dead.
Tiie lovers had been constantly exercising, respecting each
other, their faculty of idealization. When they parted, they
were young, with limited experiences of life, with slight
knowledge of their own hearts. It was a dangerous mo-
ment when they thus met.

But there was no disappointment. ^Ir. *Lansdowno
gazed upon Adele, with emotions of surprise and astonish-
ment at the change a few years had wrought in her and
marvelled at the perfection of her beauty and manner.

Adele, albeit she was not used to the reverential mood,
experienced an emotion almost verging into awe, mingled
witli her admiration of the noble form, the dignity and
stately grace of him who had so charmed her girlish days.

Thus the acquaintance, broken off, in that cold, re-
strained morning adieu, on the banks of the Miramichi, was
renewed under the sunny, joyous sky of Italy. Theic
communion with one another was now no longer marred by
youthful waywardness and caprice. During those long
years of separation, they had learned so thoroughly the
miseries attending the alienation of truly loving hearts,
that there was no inclination on the part of either, to trifle
now. Day by day, the hours they spent together be-
came sweeter, dearer, more full of love's cucliantment.

224

MIIIAMICUI.

«• MadomoiBcUc Dubois," ».ild M''- T^iinadowno, a few
weeks after their rcc()<,'nition at PoiMpijii, "I tliink I did
nut <iuitc do juHtlcc to that famouM excavated city, wlieii 1
vi<«ited it. I was 8o occupied with tlic plca'^itre of in.'cliiij,'
old friends that I really did not cxaiiiino ol.jccts with tlio
attention they deserve. To-ini.rrow I intend to reviHit the
epi.t and make amends for my neglect. Will yuii give mo
the pleasure of your company ? "

♦• Thank you, Mr. Lansdownc, I shall be happy to go
with yt>u. A week spent there, could not exhaust the in-
terest of the place."

The two families were still at Naples and from that city
INlr. Lansdowue and Adelc started again to visit Pompeii.
No evidence, as to the amount of antifjuarian lore ac-
quired on that day by our two lovers has yet transpired,
but it is certain that, while wandering an)ong the ruins, they
came before the threshold of the door, where Adelc was
standing, when first recognized by Ur. Lansdownc.
There, he gently detained her, and explained, how that
ancient solute of welcome to the guest and the stranger,
when uttered by her lips, had thrilled his heart ; how it had
been treasured there as an omen of good for the future,
and how the memory of it now emboldened him to speak
the words be was about to utter. There, within sight of
Vesuvius and v/ith the fiery memories of Miramichi hanging
upon the hour, he renewed the avowal of bis love, first
made in the haste and cflTervescence of youthful passion.

And now, Adelc did not, as then, fly from his presence.
She simply put her hand in his, and pronounced in
sweet and almost solemn accents, the irrevocable promise.

Min.vMtf iir.

225

r. Lun««lt)wno, a few
Hioii, *' I think I did
Kcnviitod city, wlioii 1
ic plotHuro of meeting'
miiio idjccts with tlio
1 intc'utl to rcviwit the
!t. Will you give mo

phull be hnppy to go
Id not exhaust the in-
ks and from that city
igain to visit Pompeii,
f untifjuarian lore ac-
■B has yet transpired,
; among the ruins, they
[)or, where Adelc was
by Mr. Lansdownc.
I cxphiincd, how that
cat and tlio stranger,
il his heart ; how it had
f good for the future,
boldened him to speak
There, within sight of
) of Mlramichi hanging
owal of his love, first
of youthful passion.
, fly from his presence.

and pronounced in
le irrevocable promise.

In the mean time, Mrs. Lan><downc had boon rultlvatuj'r
the friendsliip of M. and Mdinc. Dubois. She was grati-
fied to have an oppurtunify of thanking tiicni in person,
fur tlioir lioHpItidity and kindnexs to lier sou and brother
ill Miramic.'hi. Ilcr pntfoiind gratltiitU' for attentions to
tliose HO dear to her, would have proved a bond of sufH-
cicnt strength to unite her to these new acquaintances.
r»ut she was attracted to tlioin also by traits of mind and
oliaracter unfolded in their daily intercourse.

The discovery of John's attachment to Adelo exiilaincd
many things in his conduct, during the last few years, that
liad appeared enigmatical. With this fact made clear to
her mind, it may well be sup|)OHcd that she o!)aervetl the
young lady with keen scrutiny. At the end of a week,
John confessed his intention to win Adcle if pos8il)lo for
his wife. His mother had no objection to such an alliance,
and only wished hint success in his cfTbrts.

Haying spent six weeks together at Naples and Sorrento,
tlic party pursued their travels leisurely, for several
iiiunths, through Italy and Germany, until at length they
reached France. After a visit at Paris, they located
themselves quietly at the chateau de llossillon, whcro
preparations were soon commenced for tlib marriage.

It was observed, that the lovers, bup^ osed to be the
parties most particularly interested, were remarkably iu-
diUl-rcnt in regard to these, aflairs. "When needed for
consultation on important aiTangements, they were rc-
I)ortcd to be off, riding or driving or wandering in sonic
remote part of the park, and when at last, an oiiportuulty

22(5

MIU.VMICIII.

occurred to present some point for their consideration, they
seemed to have no particular opijiions on the subject.

With a very decided taste of her own, in matters of
dress, not less than in other things, Adele could not be
made to attend to the details of the trousseau, and at last
the two older ladies took it into their own hands.

In the mean time, the lovers were leading a rapturous
life in the past, the present, the future. In the past they
remembered the morning glories of Miramichi ; in the
present they saw, daily, in each other's eyes, unfathomcd
depths of love ; as to the future it shone out before them,
resplendent with the light of an earthly Paradise.

At last, the wedding day came, and the parting between
Adele and her parents. It was a great sacrifice on the
part of M. and JIdme. Dubois. But, remembering their
own early trials, they made no opposition to Adele's choice.
They sought only her happiness.

r consideration, they
on the subject,
own, in matters of
Adele could not be
'■ousscau, and at last
)wn hands.
I leading a rapturous
!. In the past they
' Miramichi ; in the
r's eyes, unfathomcd
)ne out before them,
ily Paradise.
1 the parting between
Teat sacrifice on the
t, remembering their
ion to Adele's choice.

CHAPTER XXVII.

CONCLUSION.

On a dark, stormy day, in the winter of 1845, at ten
o'clock, aftcrhoon, a tall, stout, elderly man, muffled in
fur, rang at the door of ]\Ir. Lunsdowne.

The house was large, of brown stone, and situated on
II — Street, in the city of P .

As the servant o])encd the door, the hall light fell upon
a face of strongly marked features, irradiated by an expres-
sion of almost youthful cheerfulness. To the inquiry, if
]\Ir. and Mrs. Lansdowne were at home, the servant re-
plied, that they were absent, but would return shortly.

"Miss Adele is in the drawing-i'oom sir," he added,
immediately throwing open the door of that apartment, to
its widqjt extent, as if to insure the entrance of Mr. J«[or-
ton, for it was no other than the good missionary of INIira-
niichi. He was still the warmly cherished and highly
revered friend of the entire family.

Adele, a young lady of sixteen, was sitting on a low
seat in the drawing-room, beneath a blaze of waxen candles,
intently occupied with a new book. She gave a start on
being recalled so suddenly from the fancy land in which she

228

MIRASIICni.

was roaming, but after a moment of bewilderment, flung
aside her book, came quickly forward, put her arms around
the neck of Mr. Norton, who bent down to receive them,
and welcomed him with a cordial kisa.

•' Every day more and more like your mother, Miss
Adelc," said he, as, after returning her salutation, beheld
her at arm's length and surveyed her from head to foot.

•• Papa and mamma will be home soon," said Adele.
'* They went to dine at Mr. Ilolbrook's. It is time for
their return."

*♦ All right, my dear. And how arc you all?"

The young lady led him to a large, cushioned arm-chair.

" How did you leave mamma Norton, Jenny, and
Fanny?"

" All quite well. And they sent love ; " replied the
missionary.

«' How is Gray Eagle?"

" Ah ! Gray Eagle is good for many a trot round the
parish yet."

*♦ I have not forgotten how he shot over the hills with
me, last summer. He began his scamper, the moment I
was fairly seated on his back. I hope he has sobered down
a little since then," said Adele.

" Yes, I remember. Gray Eagle knew. well enough
that the little sprite he carried, liked a scamper as well as
himself. The animal is quite well, I thank you, and Is on
good behavior. So are your other acquaintances, Cherry,
the cow, and Hodge, the cat."

" I am glad to hear it. I had a charming visit at

u
a

II
h
a

jcwilclermcnt, flung
lilt her arms around
,vn to receive them,

your mother, Miss
r salutation, he held
om head to foot,
soon," said Adele.
k's. It is time for

! you all?"
ushioncd arm-chair.
Norton, Jenny, and

love ; " replied the

ny a trot round the

over the hills with
nper, the moment I
le has sobered down

knew. well enough
scamper aa well as
hank you, and Is on
[uaintances, Cherry,

a charming visit at

Min.uiiciii.

229

Rockdale last summer. Johnny and Gabrielle are wild
to go there. But mamma and 1, and all of us, were so
disappointed because you would not consent to Fanny and
Jenny coming to spend the winter with us. Mam.ua says
she does not (juite understand yet why you objected.'"

•« Ah I well, my dear, I'll make it all right with your
mamma. The fact is, I wish to get a few rational ideap
into the hea<1s of those precious little ladies 'lefore they are
launched out into city life. Just a little ballast to keep
them from capsizing in u. gale."

»♦ Mamma says they are both very much like you," said
Adele, archly.

<« True, my dear. That makes it all the more necessary
to look after them carefully."

After a few momenta of chat, Adele left the room to
give orders for hastening supper.

During her absence, Mr. Norton, with his eyes fixed
upon the glowing grate, fell into a at of musing. Look
at him a moment, while he sits thus, occupied with the
memories of the past. Twenty years have passed since
lie was introduced to the attention of the reader, a mission-
ary to a remote and benighted region. He is now sixty
years old, and very few have passed through greater toil
and hardships than he has endured, in asserting the claims
of the Redeemer to the gratitude and love of the race.
-Yet his health and vigor of mind are scarcely impaired,
and his zeal continues unabated.

Beginning his journey early each spring and returning
to his fimily late every autumn, he had spent sixteen suc-
20 #

230

MIRAMICIII.

ccssive summers in Miramiclii, engaged in self-imposed
labors. Each winter, he wrought at his anvil, and thus
hel])ed to maintain an honest independence.

Four years previous, a parish having become vacant, in
the town where he residal, it waa urged upon hia accept-
ance, by the unanimous voice of the people. By his
efforts, a great change had been wrought in the field of
his past labors and a supply of suitable religious teachers
having been provided there, he accepted the invitation as a
call of Divine Providence, and had ministered to the spirit-
ual wants of the people of Rockdale since.
^ Business called him occasionally to the city of P. His
visits there were always regarded by the Lansdownes as
especial favors. The two families had frequently inter-
changed visits and had grown into habits of the closest
intimacy.

Having been in the city several hours and dispatched
tlie affairs wliich drew him thither, he had now come
to look in upon his friends for the night, expecting to
hasten away at day dawn.

There was something in his situation this evening, thus
housed in warmth, light, and comfort, protected from the
darkness and the storm without, and ministered unto by a
lovely young maiden, that reminded him of a like scene,
that had occurred, twenty years ago. He vividly recalled
the evening, when, after a day of toil and travel on th^
banks of the distant Miramichi, he reached the house of
Dubois, and how while the tempest raged without he was
cheered by the light and warmth within, and was ministered

11
li
ii
li
I
a

t(
\\
S
d
tl

hi
ti

d(
di
ai
ra
L
di
th

MIRAMICIU.

231

igcd in self-imposed
; his anvil, and thus
lencc.

ig become vacant, in
fed upon hia accept-
the ])eople. By his
>ught in the field of
;le religious teachers
ed the invitation as a
inistered to the spirit-
since.

the city of P. His
' the Lansdownes as
ad frequently inter-
labits of the closest

lours and dispatched

, he had now come

night, expecting to

n this evening, thus
, protected from the
ninistered unto by a
lim of a like scene,
He vividly recalled
il and travel on th^
eached the house of
ged without he was
1, and was ministered

unto by another youthful maiden, in form and feature so
like her, who had ju«t loft him, that he could almost imag-
ine them the same. A glance around the apartmen°t,
however, dispelled the momentary fancy. Its rich and
beautiful adornments afforded a striking contrast to the
appointments of that humble room.

lie was roused from his meditations by the ringing of
the street bell, and in a moment Mr. and Mrs. Lansdowno
came forward to welcome their early and long-tried friend.

The good man, who loved them with an affection akin
to that which he felt for his own family, had preserved a
watchful care over their earthly and spiritual welfare.
Sometimes he feared that their wealth and fame might
draw away their hearts from the highest good and impair
the simplicity of their religious faith.

After the first coi lial greetings, in accordance with his
habit on occasions like this, he indulged in a careful scru-
tiny of his two friends.

Time had in no wise impaired the charms of Mrs. Lans-
downe. Experience of life, maternal cares, and religious
duties had added a softer light to her once proud beauty,
and her old friend might well be pardoned a thrill of admi-
ration as he gazed and thought within his heart, that Mrs.
Lansdowne, robed in black velvet, Mechlin lace, and the
diamonds of the house of Rossillon, surpassed in loveliness,
the radiant Adele Dubois, arrayed in the aerial garments of
girlhood.

When also his keen eye had wandered over the face and
figure of John Lansdowne, it returned from its explora-

0'>O

MIU.\.MICIir.

tions satisfied. No habits of excess had impaired the
muscular strength and vigor of his form. Nor had un-
governed passion, avarice, political craft, or disuppuinted
ambition drawn deep defacing lives, to mar the noble
beauty of his countenance.

*' It is well with thcra still," ejaculated the good man
mentally, " and may God bless them forever."

TUE £ND.

Loriiijf's Railway Library.

i8 had impaired the

form. Nor hud uii-

craft, or disuppDintod

I, to mar the noble

3ulatcd tlic good man
1 forever."

ADELE DUBOIS:

A STORY OK

IN NEW BHUNSWICK.

LORING, Publisher

BOSTON

JiOriim's PuMieatioiis.

CHOICE FICTION.

1,60

THE OAYWOEliJYS. Hv ili.i Aiiiliui nr • Kiiltli (iurtncvV

tiiill I.' Hlh Kilitliin. $2.00

INTO THE LIGHT : ^.-. THE JEWESS. ... 1,76

PIQUE I A Tale of iho ru^ii-' Aristooraoy, iM\ K.I. . 1,60

SIMPEKITY AND FASCINATION i A Tale of the English
tteiitry :i.l K>1

MAINSTONE'S HOUSEKEEPER i A Talo of the Manufao-

turiug Dist-icts,

THE QUEEN OF THE COUNTY. . .

BROKEN TO HARNESS. Hy Kumunu Vaihh
RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. " "

MOODS. I'.V I.Dl'IHA M. Al.COTT.

A LOST LOVE. Hy Asiikouh owkn.

Ittll Ijl.

. 1,60

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. L60

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FAITH OARTNEY'S GIRLHOOD. • . iBtl. Kd. . 1,75

JUDGE NOT! or, HESTER POWERS' GIRLHOOD. 2.1 K.I. 1.60

MARGARET AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 4tli K.I. . 1.6O

MILLY I or. THE HIDDEN GROSS. A Romance of School

Life 3(1 K.I. . 1,50

HELEN FORD. A Romance of Now York City Life. By

" ' ' . . . 1.50

lloltA I 10 Al.llKU. .jl'

COUNTESS KATE. Hy Mih» Y.)n«)e.

:til Ktl.

1.26

IToi* V4>itii{;jc Grt3ittloiii<;ii..

MARK ROWLAND. A Romance of the Sea. By IIauhkk

Maim is.iAi.K. i.gQ

THE BOYS AT CHEQUA88ET. Hy the Aiithor of ' KaltU

(imtm'v'.s (llilliixiil.' 1.26

FRANK'S CAMPAIGN. »y H..kati() Alokh, Jr, . . 1.26

PAUL PRESCOTT'B CHARGE. " " ... 1.25

CHARLIE C0T)MAN'8 CRUISE. " " ... La6

RAGGED DICK 1 A Story of New York Boot Blacks and

News Boys. 1,26

TIMOTHY CRUMP'S WARD-and What Came of It. . . 1.00

THE LITTLE GENTLEMAN IN GREEN ; A Fairy Story

for Boys and Girls 75

JUrs. Warren's J^opular Home Manuals.

HOW I MANAGED MY HOUSE ON £200 A YEAR. • • 50
COMFORT FOR SMALL INCOMES. .60

HOW I MANAGED MY CHILDREN from Infancy to Marriage. 50
HOW TO FURNISH A HOUSE WITH SMALL MEANS, . 50

i'l

.Mi
I.o
\Vi

Iti;
Flu

l.m

M.M

Kal

Doc
F

Or I

lions.

ON.

iltli (turliiuv'M

KlIitiKII. ' ,

(2.00

1,75

l.llli K.I.

1,60

of the English

1,B0

the Manufao-
litli K.I.

1.60

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1.50

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1,50

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1.60

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1.25

4111 Kcl.

1,26

eH.

IBtli Kcl.

1,76

lOOD. 2>l K.I.

1.60

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1.50

inoe of School
M Kd.

1.60

ty Life. By

1.50

3(1 K(l.

1.26

■ii«;ii..

Uy llAUHJCR

1.60

Kir «)f ' FaltU

1.26

t, Jr, . .

1.26

1,25

t Blacks aud

1,26

c of It. ■

1.00

I Fairy Story

Manuals.

YEAE, . .

cy to Marriage. 80

L MEANS, .

JiOiina's Kew liooks.

A Wick ill a Ficiiili L'duntry IIousi-, ....

»> .Mis. AdelHidu (Kemlile,) Martnrii.
L.'-lic 'lymll. Uy (u'oij;iann M. Craik, ....

I'll.! AiiifHcan (.'oldiiy In Paris, lN(i7: What ilicv do— |,ow ilicy
apimar to a Fifiirjiniaii . '.

No 'J'lir.mj.lita.v : ,\m .Amusini; UurlcwiUf of Chnrlf.^ Dii'kenxV
t;iiristiuis .Si.irv. My Hi'llaiuy Hrowiijohri.

.Miss Tliac kcr.iy's f.\(|iiisitc '■ Fairy Stories (or Grown Folk.s,"
Louisa M. Aicott's Proverb Stories, — (" {iruat lavoritiw,")
Was it a (Jhost V The Murder. t in Jiii.ssei/'s tlooit.

I Ai, o.xtrudrcliimiy Nurrallvo.) "

Itiv'-r.l Di.li: ,ii-. .s;,,-,.,.t i.ifi. i„ N,.w York with the Boot-Hlacks.
Flor.iicf Manyat's }iv\* Novel, •• Nt,llie Hrookc."

\.w\: 01-, Marrii-il froi,, pj,,,,,,. A storv of real lit;-. From
till- (iLTinaii. ...

r/.y. •>:,

,'l()

111

'i.'>

\.2r>

;t(i

NKAKLY KKADY :

Mrdusa and otlitT Stories. By the author of -A Week in a
Frcmh Country House."

Ivat.. Fiel.rs Pen Photofiraphs of Charles Dickens's Readinjrs,
revised and fireatly enlarged by several aniusin}. chapters.

Doctor I.CO -. Baron von Ober;; : A story of Uve Unspoken.
iMoni the (Terinnn. '

mrSold hy all BookseUo-s and Nevmdealers throughout

the Country — by the Book Mensenycrx on the Railroad Trains,
Or sent by Mail, free of Postage, on receipt of the adveiilsed price.

.HQ WnBlllTlfrfnn Slfraaf Tinat-nr.

LOKING'S PrBMCATIONS.

10.76
76
76

U)fi\m% RAILWAY KOVELS.

THE ROUA FABB i or, Engliihmen in th* HlghUndi.
TWICE LOST I A Btory of RemarktbU Power.
UMNET'B TEIAL. By the Author of Twice Loil.'

Florenrt) Marryat'i tucrrimt^tt NovtU.

LOVE'S CONFLICT.

TOO GOOD FOR HIM

WOMAN AOAINBT WOMAN. ....

FOE EVER AND EVER

THE CONFEBBIONB OF OEEALD EBTCODET.

NELLY BEOOKE ; A Homely Btory

LOEDB AND LADIES. By Author nf 'yu»en of the County

HUNTED TO DEATH i A Btory of Lot* and Adwntnrt!.

BAFFLED ilCHEMEB. A SenMtion Novel.

THE FOELOEN HOPE By Komind Yatkh. .

BEOKEN TO HAENE8B. " " •

EUNNING THE GAUNTLET. " "

MOODS. By Louisa M. Alcott.

A LOST LOVE. By AsiiroKD owkn

PIQUE ; A Tale of the Engliih Aristocracy. ■

SIMPLICITY AND FASCINATION

MEDUSA AND OTHEE ST0EIE8 ....

ADELE DUBOIS i A Story of the lovely Miramichi Valley.

MAINBTONE'8 H0U8EKEEPEE

LUCYi Or, MAEEIED FEOM PIQUE. ■ • •

LESLIE TYEEELL. By Okoboiana M. Cbaik.
A WEEK IN A FEENOH COUNTEY HOUSE. Mad-Sabtoki*. 25
PEOVEEB 8T0EIE8. Hv I-ouiha M. Alooit. 36

76
76
76
76
75
75

76
75
76
76
76
75
76
75
76
75

75
76
30
30

WAS IT A GHOST p

The Murders in Buswey's Wood,

iH uot a "sensational " story, as many suppose. It is a simple recital
of all tlje facts tliat are or can be linown in connection wltli tliia I'larlul
tragedy, by one wlio lived in the immediate vicinity. The spiritual
apparition was to him a reality.

A dual murder, so unaccountable, sliould not be allowed to die out
till Justice Is satlstled.

In this sense this book has a mission.

JMllj

aim
J
up

Ol' 1

(TO)

tillll

rogi
The

n'lir

!•:

will

ONS.

OVELS.

.ghUndi.

$0.76

r. ■ ■ ■

Lost.'

Novel* .

DET.

oftbeCuunty

• 76

AdvantDrti.

KH.

. 76

•

. 76

. . .

. 75

mlohl Valley.

. 75

■ 30

(▲IK.

. 30

„ MAD.8AI1TU

KlH. 25

JIT.

. ae

STp

sey's Wood,

Be. It is a simple recital
jiiuection wltii tliia t'larlul
e vicinity. Tlie spiritual

not be allowed to die out

PIQUE:

A Tale of the English Aristocracy.

11th edition. 1vol. 12nio. Price $2.00.

fhreo thousand eijrlit hundred and seventy-six new hnokH were
publiHluid in Kiighiiid this hist year, wlilch i;* about the average
niimbor of past years.

Thirteen years ago Pique was first published in London, and
ii|> to tho present time, notwithstanding the enormous number
(il new boolts tliut have been issued, the ctrect of whieh is to
crowd tlio ohl ones out of sight, this remarkable novel has con-
liiiiied to have a large sale.

This is tho strongest prai.so that can bo bestowed on any book.

Ft is not in tho least " sensational," but relies solely on its rare
Ixaiity of style and truthfulness to nature for its popularity.

It has tho merit of being amusing, pleasantly written, and
engrossing.

Tho characters being high-bred men and women, arc charm-
ing companions for an hour's solitude, and one puts the book oside
regretfully, even as one closes the eyes on a delicious vision.
The American edition has taken every one by surprise, that so
ivniarkably good a novel should have so long escaped attention.

livery body is charmed with it, and its sale is immense, and
"ill endure for yours to come.

FilTH mum GIRLHOOD.

By tho Author of "Boys at OLuquassut."

11th edition. 1 vol., 12mo. Cloth. Prlco f 1.78.

Tliis charming story (HIm a void long felt for Houiotliing for iv
young girl, growing into womanhood, to road.

It dcpictH that hc^viteliing period in life, lying botwccn Forn-
TED.v uud TWKNTY, witii ilH noblo nupirutions, and IVw^h cntlmsi-
iiHin. It is written by a very aeconipliHlied hidy, whoso j)rcvious
b<tok was universally pronounced to be " tho best Boy»' book
written."

A lady of rare culture, and wido experience, says, —

" ' Fiiitli Giirtnpy'H Girlliooil,* is a nolili', pood work, thiit could only
li.ive been iicfoiiiiillHhod by an ulevatod iiiind unitml to a chaste, tomler
hi'art. From tho first jia),'!) to tiie hint, tlie iinpri'ssion is received of u lifo
whleli has buL'n lived; tlio char.iuturfl are genuine, well drawn, skilfUlly
Iiri'Honted ; they are received ul once with kind, friendly greetinfr, and
followed with interest, till tliv last pa(?e compels a reluctant farewell.

'"Tho book la written for girls, growing as they grow to womanhood.'
The story has an interest, far beyond that £>und in nio lern romances
of tho day, conveyed in p ire, refined language; suggestive, pleasirat
thoughts are unfolded on every page; the rcllectivo and descriptive
passages aro natural, simple, and exquisitely finished.

" In these days, when tho tendency of society is to educnto girls for
heartless, aimless, factitious life, a hook like this is to be welcomed and
rrratefuU y received. AV herever it is read, it will be retained as a thought-
ful, euggestiv -if silent — friend."

g^^jp Parents^ give it a icidc circulation.

Margaret and her Bridesmaids.

IIY 1111% AlTHOn OP

"The Lady of Glynne," "Mr. and IVIrs. A.Bhtoii,"

"Valley of a Huntlred Kires," "The Ijtvdies

of Love! Leigli," " Tlie Challenso,"

" Xlie Queen of the County."
3d edition. 1 vol., 12nio. Cloth. Price $2.00.

This talented authoress ranks first among the successful female novel
writers of Engliunl. Her books are inimensoly popular there; eilition
after edition of vaeh has been called for, and tlie announcement of a new-
one from lier pen creates a new demand, and increases the popularity
of what hits been pulilished. By an arrangement witli iier and lier Kng-
lisli publisiiors, all her books are to be brouglit before tlie American
public, where she is almost wholly unknown, excei)t to the readers at
l.ORING'.S CIllCULATING LIliRAUY, and tiiey arc cntlmsiastic
over tliem.

"Margaret and Her Bridesmaids" is the one chosen to introduce
her witli, as this, she writes me, has enjoyed the greatest popularity in
England. This will be followed by "Tim Queen of tub County," and
the others, as fast as compatible.

It is the history of four school-girls.

The London AfhoMtun, the highest literary authority, says of it: " Wo
may save ourselves the trouble of giving any lengtliened review of this
book, for we reconmiend all who are in search of a fascinating novel, to
read it for themselves. They will find it well worth their while. Thero
is a freshness and originality about it qmte cluirming, and there is a cer-
tain nobleness in the treatment, both of sentiment and incident, wliich is
not often found. Wo imagine that few can read it without deriving some
comfort or profit from the quiet good sense and unobtrusive words of
counsel with wliich it abounds."

The story is very interesting. It is the history of four school-fellows.
SFargaret, the heroine, is, of course, a woman in the highest state of
perfection. But Lotty— the little, wilful, wild, fascinating, brave Lotty
— IS the gem of the book, and, as far as our experience in novel reading
!-'r>(>s, is an entirely original character — a creation — and a very charm-
ing one. No story that occurs to our memory contains more intircst
lliaii this for novel readers, particularly those of the tender sex, to whom
it will be a dear favorite.

We hope the authoress will give us some more novels, as good as
'• Margaret and her Bridesmaids."

T^VICE LOST.

A. IVOVEri.

By S. M., Author of "Linnet's Trial."

Tloncl tlic Opinions or llio T^nsllBli I*roRN.

Ailotlii'r first-riitc novrl liy n womnn ! The plot well coucoIvimI aiul workcil out , tlifi
eharni'tcrs individtiiilizod iiiut clciir-cut, and the story so ndniiriihly told tliat you nro
hlirrioil ulonf;; for two hours nnd ii liitlf with u smilo often hrcakln;;' out at the lMi;nor,
It tear ready to start at the pathos, nnd with unlliitfi^nij uitcrest, till the heroine's re-
lease from all trouble is annouueod at the end. * * • Wc heartily reeoniinend tlio
book to all readers. It is more full of chnraeter than any book we remember einco
Cliiirles Kendo's " Christie Johnstone." — yiVo</«r,

" Twice Lost" isanentortiUning novel ; the stnigplc between the hi8:h-Bpirlted,ffcn-
crous, half-SBvage heroine, and her speeious, handsome, unprineipled, aoitlisant
father, is exciting ; and the sympathy of the reader is cleverly enlisted for tho
heroine, Lueia, from the first moment. The perHonnj,'es have nil of tliem n certain
look of reality, and there is a notion of likeness which insures the render's interest.
AVe cnn recommend " T\*icc Lost " as a novel worth rendinj,'.— .I/Aolthki.

Ily fnr the cleverest book on our list is " Twice Lost." * * * This is bold nnd
nkilnil drawing, imd it is a fair sample of the earlier hnlf of the volume. The com-
bined vigor, ensc, and perspicuity of the writing is unusual. — Guarduin.

Nothing can hii better of its kind than the first portion of •' Twlec^ Lost." * * «
Till! caustic humor nnd strong common scinse which mark the i ketches of i.'liaracter
in this book, betray a keenness of observation and aptitude foi prodiiiingn telling
likeness with a few strokes, which need only a wider cnltivntici to secure n nioro
comi)Iete success than has been nttnined in " Twice Lost." — Wculniiiinler Ilerieir,

It is quite clear that the author has given a good deal of thoiijjht to the couHtruc-
tiou of the story, with a viev to producing strong Interest without the use of the
common sensntlonal expedients. To say that " Twice Lost " is very well written,
and very interesting, wouUl not be doing it justice. — Morning Herald,

There can bo no doubt of the author's power. She holds hiT characters and inc i-
dents well In hand, writes firmly, and often very happily, nnd there nrc mimy pas-
eagi'S which indicate power much above mediocrity. — London lieview.

Not very often do we meet with a novel so thoroughly good as " Twice Lost." If,
as may be assumed from both sulijcct and style, its author is a woman, she may at
once be chisseil with the IJronle sistiTs and George Kliot. She has the firm coiici'i)-
tion and distinct touch of the flrst-cluss artist. Her characters are real and indi-
vidual. — I'reas,

'I Ilia is a well-written romantic talc, in which we find many iilensing incidents and
some successful portraiture of character. The character of Miss lierwent, the com-
panion nnd governess of the heroine. Miss Langicy, is very well develoix'd In tho
course of the narrative. Tho moral tone of the book is very good, and so fnr as re-
lijtimis mutters nrc touched upon, they arc treated with propriety and revereucc.
— Knglish Churchman.

The characters arc well drawn — the sitnations arc new, the sentiments are nn sen-
timental, and the incidental remarks those of a clever woman who is reasonable imd
tolerant.— Globe.

Tho plot of this tale is an originotone, and well worked out. • * ♦ We can sin-
cerely recoiiimcnd this tale ; it is quite out of the general run of books, and is sure to
prove an interesting one. — Observer.

■\Vc notice this story because Its authoress will one day, wo believe, produce a
powerful novel, — Spectator,

The reader is carried along with unflagging and exciting interest -..1 the book is
full of characters finely sketi'lied, ami of passages powcri'ully writtin.— P'Urlot.

That the author of " Twice Lost " can write well, the book itself furnishes sufii-
riciit evidence. — Xation.

'i'liis is n striking story. It hns a (Veidiness nnd originality nbout it which nre very
pleasant. — Morning Aarertiser,

Without being a sensation rovel this Is a most exciting and attractive story. —
Daily \cws.

A most romantic story, the interest being well sustained tliroughout, ami every
tliiug coming right at ( "lo end. Any one must be entertained by it. — John Jiull.

^ -' -~"

■I

','.!