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?, 1.

ALTHAM :

-A TALE OF THE SEA.

TN TWO VOLUMES.

JOHN S. CUMMIN.S, E^Ja.,

LT, CUI,. CA.NAIIA .MILITIA.

VOL. II.

LONDON :

SAUNDERS A^D OTLhY, CONDUIT STREET.
184.9.

h ^'

njtmi ' K J!i:« cj lj^ -*^' »t » < ?< >t, fn iwrgKi, foRKT

«■

ALT HAM.

Chaptkr L

" Beshrew me but I love her heartily;
For she is wise, if I can judge of her ;
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true ;
And true slie is, as she hath proved herself;
And therefore like herself, wise, fair, aod true,
Shall she be placed in my constant heart."

*** P\ Mkrcrant or VcMcc.

Halifax^ is proverbially gay and hospitable
at all times — more particulai'ly during war ;
but never was it more remarkably so than
on the Shannon's arrival. It required all
Jonathan's previous bragging to- give such
zest to so usual an occurrence then, as that of
an enemy's frigate of slightly superior force
being brought in ; but .the American navy of
the day consisted of only a few frigates, to
which, however, we had scarcely one' o^
anything hke equal force to oppose. Had
Captain Brooke captured a Frenchman Df thr^

■0

■ ' ALTHAM.

Z°U T'f ^ little, comparatively speaking
would have been thought of it. U„4 Sam
had entn-ely succeeded in persuading himself
and mor. than half convincing sufh of our
counfymen as were ignorant of ^val affai,.,
that at sea h>s prowess was* uneEalled I
was therefore that such gn^tulation ' was
Expressed when the first action of nearly equal
ships, set the question so effectually at rest
As to the capture of a solitary frigate, it

w^ a matter of no importance to England
mid the loss could be but slightly felt by the •
Umted States; but morally considered it was
a conquest^ The rulers of the infant republic
could only hope to console their country for the
total destruction of herforeign commerce, which
the.r navy was unable toprotect, by triumphs -
m emgle actions of equal ships, and hitherto
then- rulers and press had furnished the people
•with an abundant harvest of "glorious news "

»t,ngsloopsofl0audl8gu„s,as..fi,;e
fagates when taken from us, and glorifying
the readers of their "naval chronicles," by
jJar Yankee tricks. The respective fo„,es
of the Chesapeake and the Shannon w.r.,

ALTHAM.

speaking
icle Sam
: himself,
h of our
J affairs,
lied. It
on was
dy equal
; rest,
i^ate, it
Ingland,
'' by the -
I it was
■epublic
for the
', which
iumphs -
itherto
people
lews,"
"fine
•ifying
/'by
forces
yere .

v--^

however,' toio well known to be much falsified ;
still the proceedings of the court of* enquiry,
which reported on the causes of the capture of
the former, shewed how sore the parties
composing it felt, and that there was at least
no indisposition on their parts to lessen the^
national discomfiture, by the grossest misre-
presentation of all'kinds. .

It was for the above • reastins that the ever
loyal Novascotians vied with each other in feting
Captain Brooke and his officers. . Old Smith
was on his pins again — inerely evincing
(whence arising, of course we know jjot,) a
mercurial indisposition to sit still for a moment
at a time. The Admiral had at once confirmed
his promotion, and the old fellow was in the
seventh heaven. As usual, Annesfey and he
were inseparable. Jemmy was a handsome *'
gentlemanlike lad, and was in great request at i
all the shines. Amongst the Halifax belles,
his acquaintance was extended, and despite
his junior rank, we doubt whether Captain
Brooke himself was considered a more desirable
partner, at least by the young ladies themselves.
Now «Hd -tliefr « mamma did certainly:

f manoeuvre to sever lier fair daughters from
the handsome mid, but often in vain. Few
partners are so acceptable to the lassies as a
good-looking little middy—the dear ^young
saltees are so full of fun and frolic, so gallant"
so frank, and jet so polished when in ladies'
society. Saltwater and French polish differ
essentially, and the gun-room is by yo means
noted fdr the elegance of its intercourse ; yet
who of cither sex, whether young or old, has
associated with its occupants ashore, and not
been delighted?^! he young scamps are always
welcome companions, mon^ especially to ladies
of their own age ; they are indeed generally

" Variable as the shade.
By the light qui\«ering aspen made,"

in their Uaimn^, which, though too often
entered pn with the sole intention of spending
the passing hour, sometimes are for the
moment sincere as they are brief. We know
not in which of these classes to place a flame
on which Annesley's shipmates quizzed him—
its object was certainly well calculated to excite
tlie l attor---whils t the actttd caitteiy wbich she"-

■'Ifr^l '

ALTHAM.

unsparingly applied to his romance, shewed
that she at least was yet free from the ranklino-
of the boy-god's arrows. Annssley was proud
of her as a partner, (for she was the belle of
Halifax,) and delighted in her soc^iety, for,
unless when he presumed too far, she was^
gentleness itself. .Her well informed mind
reflected' warmly his boyish generosity, and the
innate nobleness of his thoughts. In his quiet '
moments he sought her approval of each
' projected action, and if he read it not in her
soft blue eye, felt that he nmst be wrong; but
if she smiled on thoughts which she read,
though but half expressed, that sunny smile'^
assured his wavering judgment. Did he love
her?— perhaps he had, wei^not that remi-
niscences which scarcely asslimed a tangible
form, wdre ever present, arming him in proof
against piaster Cupid's assaults. If the sly
boy's arrows had touched him in by-gone days
it was but to produce for the moment pleasant
pain, arid when he reipember^d Isabella Brock,
he felt but the happier iA the recollection of
their youthful friendship ; but his heart had

never f :iM:ied, lichen a/ouc, another image.

1-^

iWiTHAM.

In the sweet girl whose ^eveuipg companion .
be now constantly was, lie unconsciously
worshipped her likeness, for in many respects
-they were alike. At till events their alliance
gave pleasure to each— neither was of ^ age
to detect the lurking quagmire beneath the
A%^h wreath^ tofi^age on which they
sported — '^ .

,»

" Theif ways were ways of pleasantn«s,"

and thoughtless and joyoys was their path.

On such terms was Annesley with — - . ^

the second daughter of Sir ■ .- /the

: highly esteemed Governor of Nova Scotia, ^t
whose house, the kind mention of his Captain
had made him always, welcome, and where we ^
take up the too long neglected thread of our
story. . ■■:"■ ^

■ Government House was brilhantly lighte*d
up. No absurd conventionality closed its
hospitable doors to the wealthy and well " *
infonhed mercantile community, whose pre-
seiice, with that of their wives and blooming
daughters, formed one of its chief attractions.
The ^rowdgd s ^lQons w^re ^ay as mornbg-^.^

ALTUAM.

^ (iftir, forms twined the mazy dance to the
deUcious music of a military^and. softened
% distanc^ T|»e glitteritig *miform of the
soldier, mingled with the more tasteful o^e of •
the sailor, and the chaste plain dress of the
civilian^-the sweet presence of wpman shed
its ^balmy influence around, and all was
happiness as perfect as is! allowed us here
below. The brave old soldiei^ whose half
century of service lad been rewarded by his
sovereign with the government of th^ Colony,
hung o*er his daughter's chair, interchanging
with its occupant aad our hero, that Hght chat ^
which forms the staple of our usual ihterjjourse.
" Why are you not dancing, m)KMary ?'*
" I have been, papa, und am a little tired,
besides, I hardly like dancing witji a new
acquaintance, and the officers who have arrived
to-day are the only partners who have offere3 -
—to them riiave pleaded fatigue.**

" I did not expect such an accusation froin .
you. Miss Mary,'* cried An;iiesley, "I am not '
a vfery new acquaintance, I hope. Sir, yon do
nj*t imaging thai I have npt pressed Mi^s Mary .
"to dance. '-^^-^ — - —

> »-

8«

ALTHAM.

i '

"You know Mr. Annesley I had twice
danced with you before, so you cannot,
complain."

" I am not given to complaining, lady, more
especially when you grant me the more
enviable gratification of your society in a quiet
chat."

The old General's calm eye rested for an
instant or two, first on his daughter and then
on Annesley, with a questioning glance — no
consciousness tinged either cheek.

" You are right to reserve yourself, Mary,
I hope to have the pleasure by and by of
presenting to^ypu one of the most agreeable
young men I have for som^ time met. He is
aid-de-camp to the General in command of
the new arrival— I wonder the party has not
appeared."

A glance passed with electric rapidity,
between the young people. After our eluci-
dation, was it coquetry? wg fancy not: a
sufficiently jealous feehng may exist between
two young people of different sexes, without
_bordering on love or it s s ubordinate phasf
The Governor passed on to do tlie honors of

ALTHAM.

his house to osiers, and Annesley continued
to chat with liis former partner ; they criticized
the different parties who now flew by in the
fascinating waltz, or swept through the more
stately quadrille. A movement ^A place at
the door of the room, and eyen th^eet tones
of Mary's voice were unheeded; for with his
daughters leaning on each arm, and his uniforpi
decked with the aiguilette of a general officer,
the father of Alice and Isabella entered]
followed by Mountmorris as his aid. Scarcely
a year had passed since Annesley had been
their uncle's guest at Mountjoy Square, yet in
that brief space his favorite Isabella 'had
ripened into womanhood • had she not been
in company with her father and sister, he
could scarcely have recognised her, at least at
first sight. Sparkling eyes and lovely forms
had surrounded him during the evening, and
he had enjoyed the association with a zest
which a sailor alone can feeF; but amongst
them, to his eye at least, none could compare
with Isabella ; his senses wandered to long
passed scen e s 4i9^.he ga z ed on hc r> Ma ry a f~
h^ngth perceived his abstraction.

ALTIIAM.

" May I ask. Mr. Annesley. what it is which
prevents your answering- me ? "

"Pardon my rudeness-lam certain you
wU], when I tell you that General Brock and hi,
daughters have been amongst the kindest friends
of my boyhood, and that until this instant
I w^not aware that they were in America."
Ihey must be the arrivals of whom my
father spoke-pray let no idle ceremony detain
you from your friends."

Had Mary entertained even a latent feeling
for our hero, his meeting with the Brocks
would have pained her, but it was not so • she
esteemed and liked him as an acquaintance,
but that was all ; it was therefore that she felt
unmixed pleasure at seeing him most heartily
received by the veteran and Lord Mountmorris
whJstthe General'syomigestdaughtertestified "
MF surprise and pleasm-e by soft blushes.
Ihe observant eye of a female friend reads om'
heaxte ere their pulsations are rightly construed
by ourselves, and Mary had already sketched
a shuung future for Annesley and Isabella
Brock, ere they had exchanged their blushing
-gr e eting s . - °

ALTHAM.

The surprise felt by Jemmy and the
General's party, was mutual, but did not equal
the pleasure which the meeting afforded. Sir
Isaac took the earliest opportunity of with-
» drawing with Annesley ^nd Mountmorris to
an unoccupied card-room and seating himself,
said —

"We fancied you still with Mr. Bushe's
uncle, working away in the Attorney's office.
How in the name of fortune, have you been
metamorphosed into a navy ofijcer ?"

'* The tale is a long one, sir ; but if you can
afford me a few minutes, I will condense it."

" Let us hear it, my boy."

Jemmy briefly told h^" tale, in delicacy to
Mountmorris, suppressing his suspicion that
Lord Altham was his evil genius.

" 'Tis a wonderful story, Annesley," said
the General, after musing for a few minutes,
" and beyond my comprehension ; but Mr.
Quill shall make all clear — my utmost
endeavotirs shall be exerted to punish the
scoundrel, and do yoa right. Take an oppor-
tunity to introduce me to your gallant Cflp fftig^

—I long to make his acqudMince, were it

.iKia. . .!. t

ALTilAJK

only to thank him for his kindness to you ;
and now let us rejoin the girls, they are no
doubt as curious as their old father to hear
your adventures. Of course you take up your
quarters at rnyhouse for the few days I remain
here, at least when duty does nqt intervene/'
Notwithstanding the delicacfy which had
prevenfeed Annesley's touching on any point
in his history, which might (ead suspicion
towards Lord Altham, a chill; oppressed the
heart of Mountmorris, as he /proceeded, and
the most painfid of all doubts^' that of a loved
father's honor, fell on his spirit and clouded
his brow ; he coiJd not help remembering the
unaccountable dislike evinced by Lord Allham
to Annesley after his wound,and the prohibition
so strongly insisted on againsi their intimacy.
He was also aware that just before he left,
Mr. Quill had ■ been appointed agent ^o the*
estates in Galway, and Jcnnny's abstraction
happening scarcely a month after,— the whole
subject was shrouded in painful mysteryj

They rejoined the ladies, who gladly reijcwed
their acquahitancc with Anncs%, questibninjr
-«m iis^ opponunify o^red: ATIcc'^ttGnti^

AI:TlIA>r.

was soon taken up with i\JouiitnioiTis, wiiose
depression she perceived. They had only, met
that day, after a long absence, during which
the young noble had been with his regiment,
from which he was recalled l)y an order to
await General Brock's arrival at Halifax, arid
to attach himself to his staflp. Short as had
been the period of their reunion, much of deep
importance to the happiness of both had
passed, and though no express troth had been
exchanged, yet each heart was glowing with
hapjiiness, when they entered the Governor's
house. It was therefore that the gloomy
abstraction which he manifested, on rejoining
their party, after . the conversation with
Annesley, almost instantly attracted Alice's
attention and fond sympathy.

" You have heard ill tidings, Edward— or
something has occurred to pain you."

"Much, sweet Alice— Annesley has been
most infamously treated, and placed in the^
hands of pirates, from which extraordinary
good fortune alone has delivered him."
^^XPPX friend is certajnly in a Jar-

better position than when we last met ; and

u.wJl.ik%U/,-r£*>*«..A\ f.j

ALTHAM.

although this dpes not absolve the unintelitional
authors of his good fortune, surely there is
nothing to regret."

"Not on his behalf, certainly. Pardon me,
dearest Alice, if 1 cannot even to you, explain
my present feehngs, as they are founded on
what may, I trust, prove idle suspicions—still
I cannot shake off the depression which your
kindness has noticed. What a lovely girl
Annesley is introducing to your sister— let us
too make her acquaintance."

Happily the evening sped for Jemmy.

Mary had read his secret soul, and in a

thousand apparently trifling ways advanced
his suit. Nothing pleads more strongly the
merit of a lover, than finding it appreciated
by one to whom his homage might be worthily
devoted, but is not ; and very different would
have been Jsabella's sensations at hearing
Annesley mentioned in such terms by a lovely
girl, were it not apparent at a glance that
they>ere simply warm friend^.

General Brock reminded Je^y of his
engagfimjrnt to introduce him to his Com-

ALTIIAM.

where the hero of the day was surrounded ijy
the most distinguished persons present. All
made way for the noble looking old solcjier-t-
the introduction took place, and Jemmir
blushed gra^fuUy at the praises bestowed oti
his conduct during the period he had served
in his ship, by Captain Brooke, who conclude(i
by requesting to know at what hour he shoW
wait on the General the next day— s^i^gi
that he had much of deep importance b
communicate on a subject which he. doubted
not would be of great interest. \

"Name your owii hour, sir; my time is
entirely my own at present, so that any hour
which may convenience you will suit me."
" Shall we say at noon. Sir Isaac ?."
" Certainly, I shall be at home all day-
having letters to write-so do not inconve-
nience yourself to be punctual— meanwhile I
have a favour. to ask."

"Itisgranted, sir, ifinmypower." •
"I wish, should duty not occur to prevent
It, that you would give Annesley leave to
remain ashore with me whilst I stay ."

^^^tLe greatest pleasure, sir/

I am

lej

alvvavs delimited

ALTHAM;

when iiiy young ofUcers have
an opportunity i)f being in good society.
Anneslcy deserves leave, but I should recom-
mend him to pasi a few hours on board each
day, as repairs are going forward which it viU
advantage him to witness. Au revoir-^l am
habitually punctual — so notwithstanding your
good natured permission to be otherwise, I
shall be with you at twelve to-morrow."

■__' , .,'; (ftj.i^ '*!

Chapter II.

" Let me persuade you to forbear awhile/'

,Hbnrt vr.

Upon the return of our party from Government
House, the General, after kissing his daughters,
bade them good night, whilst the young people
drew their chairs around the drawing-room
fire, foj a chat. AU had much to hear and
to ,«6mmunicate. Drawn out by Isabella,
Anuesley entertained them with his adventures
at greater length than he had detailed them
to the General, but with the sam^ cautious
reserve on any subject which he thought might
be painful to Mountmorris. It grew late,
and as they lighted their bed-room candfes^
Mountmorris drew Ahce aside.
** WiU ydu promise me, dear A hce, that
Klowever strange my conduct may ^||^; you

VOL. II.

«k

ALTHAM.

will not doubt me? for, circumstttnccd as 1
am, after what has passed this morning, I feel
it my duty to be explicit. T long have dearly
loved you — I seek not, nor indeed could I in
honor receive a reciprocal avowal, should I be
so happy as to have won your regards. I
shall hope the best ; but- should my suspicions
become certainty, I shall not hesitate, painful
as it may bd, t0 tell you all. Good-night
dearest — whatever may betide, I shall n^ver
cease to love you fondly.'* ^

" I promise you all you wish, dearest
Edward, and hope, to whatever your fears
point, 'you may be in error. Happen what
may, you , have my warmest sympathy — ^you
have forbidden my saying more," she added,
blushing, and smiling ilu-ough tears.

The breakfast p^y at^tl^e General's seemed
to him less mirthful than he fiad expected ;
yet, suspecting nothing, lie attribiifed it to the
late houi^ of the last nighty succeeding, to the
confinement of a ship.

" You must, Alice, j^nsider yourself under
arrest ; and, after eleven in the evening,
ittut^ u» y(Hif room. liaKing does not

i-i

i-i'ka

s^^

ALTHAM.

agree with you— you look pale and weary this
morning, my- girl, and need a few days rest
after our voyage. Take a short drive by and
by — Mountmorris and Annesley will be your
esquires. I have an engagement which wili
prevent my accompan^ng-you."

" I fear, ^ir, I must ^eny myself the
pleasure," said Anneslpy, " 'great as it wojild
be, you remember the condition on which
Captain ^Brooke allowed my remaining on
shore. Although he only expressed it in the
shape of advice, I would not Ipn any accoiinlr—
disobey his wishes. I hope '^o be back to
dinner, but must be on board ^le greater part
of each day." . j

" you're perfectly" right— I ^ad forgotten /
Captain Brooke's advic^. On you ^then.

Mountmorris, will devolve the duty of enacting
diadle boiteux, that is if you Ibave no other *
engagement."

" It would >e an important one indeed, sir, '
wlMch should prevent me. 1 am qualified
toa; sfior, during the first month after t joined, •
I was quartered here."

tt-

WeD, chamn a mi metier7i ynll order

f^&^.

•-^.^

4 ALTHAM.

the earriage at once, so get ready you lasses,
and come in wltfefifreshened roses, or faith I'U
send for old Sawbones, for I won't have you ^^
looking pale. You can take Annesley down
to the wharf, on your route." '

The old Geperal sat hioi down to his writing
table — giving directions that he should be at
home to none, but Captain Brooke, and
ordering that '"gentleman to be shewn up on
his arrival. ^0"'

Punctual to the stroke of noon, the Captain
entered the apartment, saying — .

" I have solicited the honor of, this inter-
view. General, finding that you were an old
acquaintance of my friend Annesley— rdo you
know who he is ? " . /

" Yes;. a natural son of t^^e^^lte^jyl of
Altham, and as mffe a youngster J^^H^^^^

" I entirely concur in your good opinion of

hi^m. Sir Isaac, but you arc in error as to his

itaget*-! have good reason to know that

'is legto^e, and is at this moment de jure

^Eatl of Altham, and heir apparent to the

EnglisErEarldom of Aunesley.'* ^^— ^-^^^

£iL-i-,:

/^»

ALTHAltf.

^^^ .^ »^ews indeed, sir ; I remember
brother-in-law suspected that all was

pt right,' on his uncle's a6cession\r the title,
)ut oij investigation, he learned the truth from
tlie boy's own mother, who reluctahtly-confessed
all; so you must-be mistaken, my good sir."

" You shall judge forjyourself. General—
« man n^med Ingram, who at one time saved
my lifc^at the imminent risk of his own, by
^attending me through a desperate fever on the
African coast, left the service a short time
afterwards, despite iny entreaties to the con-
trary, and promises of promotion— he was^
a wild adventurous fellow, and had been at
one tune a sort of gentleman in Galway
when, through his own youthful extravagance'
^M ^"^^^'^ «f an Attorney, he soon ran
ihrough the remains of an already heavily,
bm-dened patrimony,- and finding himself
destitute, entered the Navy, where his daring
corn-age, aided by some slight education, would
qmcklyiiave ensured his advancement, were it y
-not that misconduct in other respects ever
mtervened; ^en jiis^ bravery jm d a toiick o l '
Toolhardine.s. pn the whole, he was one of ^

( t*-ji*-<^- '"' ^* . t\

mil !>

ALTHAM.

**.

■■;ir

the most troublesome characters I ^ver com-
manded, always in scrapes of one kind or
other, for which, more than once, I was
obliged to pmiish him. When I was attacked
with the fever, we were running into Sierra
Leone, and knowing its deadly character, I
had myself at once carried to the hospital on
shore, when Ingram sought and obtained my
Lieutenant's leave to attend me. Of his
devoted care, I was for more than three weeks
unconscious. You well know how few survive
hospital treatment on those deadly shores, and
I have no doubt that but for Ingram I should
not have been amongst the few. Through a
Jong convalescence no mother could have
nursed a son with more untiring care. I
besought him to change his habits on board,
offering my purse and interest to their fullest |
extent ; but lj6 refused both, requesting as his
sole reward, a discharge from the service. I
remonstrated, but finding him determined,
procured it for him. Though constant in my
enquiries for him, for three years I could not
— diseovei" what^^ h©" was^ aoout^- -^fl£i wutiij-
through Anncslcy, I again traced him, I found

■'-'fit - ■■■ ■ <•

ALTHAM.

that he had turned pirate, kidnapper, and
traitor. I endeavoured, nevertheless, after the
destruction of his vessel, to get him on board,
but he had taken to the woods. How he
made his way toJBoston I know not, but the
day before my action with the Chesapeake, he
voluntarily came on board my ship. During
the action, he behaved with his accustomed
coolness, and poor Lawrence, as Annesley
afterwards informed me, ^wed his death to
Ingram's deadly aim, who the next moment
was himself mortally wounded. On his death
bed he sent for me, and told me that a couple
of years before he had found himself in funds
to repurchase his paternal property from a
Mr. Quill, the attorney who had enabled him
to dissipate it so quickly, and into whose
hands it had eventuaUy faUen. The' most
cunning sometimes betray themselves, and
most fortunately, Mr. Quill misdirected a
parcel of private papers of the late Lord
Altham to Ingram, in mistake for the deeds of
the land he had purchased— no nice scruples
) reve nt ed t he jover fr o m nosscs i Bing himself of—

their contents.— Accompanying them was a

ALTHAM.

letter to a Miss Gregory, who it appears was
Lord Altham's mistress, and entertained hopes
of persuading him to marry her. The letter
acknowledged the receipt of a large sum of
money, and stated that the papers of which it
was the price, were enclosed, dwelling on the »
diflaculty he had in obtaining them, and the
great risk incurred, especially in inserting a
false leaf in the parochial registry. The papers
referred to as enclosed, were a leaf taken
from the registry of the Parish of Dunmaine,
shewing the marriage of Lord Altham with
Miss Mary Sheffield, and a similar document,
proving the baptism of a son, the issue of that
marriage, by the name of James Annesley.
Ingram further stated, that Quill, discovering
Jiis mistake, came on board Uke a maniac, but
that for his own ulterior purposes, he had
refused to deliver the papers, as he gained
thereby, togdilier with a lasting tye over the
attorney, the probable means of extorting
money from the parties implicated in sup-
pressing the marriage and birth. — Ingram
f urthe r s ta ted, that— oa^n bn ndoning the

schooner, he had given the packet containing

ALTHAM.

these papers to Annesley, making him, how-
ever, promise on his honor, not to open it
dntil he had in vain endeavoured to procure
1^ justice from Quill, after having let him know
that Ingram had placed in his hands the
>papers, which were enumerated in a sealed
note accompanying the parcel. I have ascer-
tained that Jemmy has them safe, but felt
under all the circumstances, that it was better*
not to enter on the matter at large with him.
My Clerk was by at Ingram's confession, and
took down its substance in writing, which I
have duly attested. In connection with all this,
taking Annesley's reminiscences of himself, no
doubt remains of his identity with the child to
whom these papers refer; and his uncle's
having subsequently caused him to be kid-
napped by this same rascal Quill, (to whom he
had restored the agency) has to my mind fully
corroborated my views."

" My brother-in-law was then right after
all, in . his suspicions. Although of course
justice must be done, I must confess I am
grieved for you ng
and will suffer deeply."

•*,5'

ALTHAM.

from his

" But has Aniiesley not suffered
infancy upwards ; "and, considering tlie destiny
to which his worthy uncle intended to consign
him, I confess I feel but Uttle sympathy with
the usurping family, at losing their ill-gotten
wealth aud rank."

" You mistake me, Captain Brodke ; the loss
of station will weigh less with Mo^ntn^orris
than with most young men ; but if I judge
him rightly, he will deeply feel his father's
crimes, and consequent dishonor. With such
a man as Lord Altham, Annesley will have a
severe contest ere he establish his rights.
• Possession is nine points of the law,' more
especially as that possession affords luihouuded

resources."

" Money will not be wanted, Sii- Isaac, to
make good Annesley 's claims., Ingram has
left m my hands the large galherkigs of ill
spent years, amounting, I should suppose, to
a greatef sum than Lord Altham can command,
as it will be impossible for him to sell or realise

by mortgage with a disputed title."

^Mf^awkinswai be delighted^ Although

he too values poor Mountmorris highly.

ALTHAM.

" Fiat justiiia mat coelum." If I can be of
any use in the matter, I pray you to believe
that I shall do my utmost. Meanwhile,, shall
we inform those most, deeply concerned, or
leave them to learn it from home ? "

"I should suggest the latter as regards
Mountmorris— poor fellow, ill news flies fast,
and he will learn it soon enough ; but we
must tell Annesley all, as on his part immediate
action is needful." «

" Be it so ; I have to repeat that if I can be
of use, either myself, or through my connexions
in Ireland, I shall be most happy."

" The Captain took his departure — leaving
Sir Isaac Brock in what is vulgarly termed a
" brown study ;" he felt deeply for Mount-
morris— well knowing how his sensitive spirit
would feel the impending blow ; at the same
time he could not but rejoice, that Lord
Altham's deeply planned schemes were about
being fmstrated. In justice to Annesley, it
would be necessaiy to inform him of what had
come to light, that he might use the important
documents iii_ his possfis-sjo n ; i^ then

ruDg, and ordered the servant who answered

"liiii

ALTHAM.

his beU^ to desire that Mr. Annesley should, on
his return, be told that he wished to see him.
Sir Isaac sat with pen in hand, occasionally
adding a line to the letter he had been writing,
'but his thoughts ever and anon wandered to
the momentous tidings he had heard ; and
although three hours had elapsed since Brooke
had taken leave, his letter was still unfinished,
when Annesley was shewn in, looking pale
and harrassed. ^

" Sit down, my young friend — I have to
inform you of things wonderfully discovered,
which deeply concern you."

" I have seeti Captain Brooke, sir, and
know all."

** I had hoped to be the first to communicate
the good news — I congratulate you from my
heart on the bright prospect before you."

•* You'are most kind-gir, and I am grateful ;
but Captain Brooke's communication has
occasioned me, nevertheless, almost unmixed
pain ; fortunately the papers he referred to
are in my possession, and he has promised
\ takeCno^ep-UL the business, contrary to
my will, nor even to mention a word of it —

P«c%

ALTHAM.

may I hope a similar, promise from you, my
dear sir ? "

" You are a most unaccountable fellow,
Annesley ! What can you mean ? "

" Simply, sir, that I love my cousin Edward,
more than (with one exception) any earthly
being ; he has been brought up in the idea
. that he was the heir of honors and estates ;
he is also the soul of honor, and how can he
endure disgrace. I, on the contrary, have
always roughed it, and have now an honorable
profession, and sufficient means to support me
creditably, .until I win promotion. Promise
me, dear General— if you love me, promise.*'

" I do promise. Jemmy ; but do you know
what you relinquish ? An ancient title-
estates, whose rental few in England equal,
and (it must out) an unblemished birth."

" I know and have thought on all. I have
never doubted my being legitunate ; you, dear
sir, now know it also— so does Captain Brooke ;
for the opinion of strangers on that point, I
care nothing. My poor mother, I neveijinew.
Alas, what miiat have been h&^ anffrrinL ol

had she lived, a different course would have

,. ^-i^Stn,

•iO

ALTIIAM.

been forced upon me — Wt there is no doubt
she is long since dead; and the few who kne,w
her have forgotten that she ever existed."

" I will riot conceal from you, Annesley,
how much the generosity of your determination
has raised you in my esteem. I would there
were some way of punishing your rascally
uncle, without including Edward in the
chastisement. 'Tis strange that gentle blood
could conceive such baseness — stranger still
that such rascality should have been successful
in this age — ^but most strange that' the
chivalrous friendship entertained by you for
the son, should prevent justice taking its due
course with the false peer. Leave me, my
dear boy, — ^thinking of this astonishing drama,
and its probable future events, has prevented
my finishing a most important letter which
must be in time for the packet which sails this
eveuipg. We shall meet at dinner."

'2^ 1 ,

ChI^pter III.

" We the world can compass soon,
Swifter than the wandering moon."

\ MlDHI/MMBR NiOHT.

We have been so occupied with Annesley and
those whom fate threw into his immediate
proximity, that we have too long neglected our
earhest acquaintance, Bus^e. On reaching
London (where it will we\ trust be in the
reboUecfcion of our readers, he had been
despatched by his uncle, in order to have the
coast clear for his villanous designs upon
Jemmy,) his fu-st duty had been to wait on
Quill's correspondent. The affair on which
he was employed had been judiciously chosen
by the astute attorney, being one of much
historic and legal interest, involving a curious
question o^succession Jo forfeited lands,
ongrnalljrgranted by Charies II., to his

:;ii:!

32 ALtHAM.

■^ • ■ ' ■"■"■■ ■ ^ ^

unfortunate b^the?:- -fames Buke of York,
and by him sold to a London' Corporation,
styled "The Governor and Company^ for
making hollow Sword blades," at a .tr|Ung
suS, on the sole condition of extirpati^^the
wolves and Kernes, or Wild Irish. A^engst
the title deeds were strange old bonds, m
quaint contracted law latin, executed by
. Murtach Oge O'Sullivan More, and which,
notwithstanding his forfeit^ , were (being
previously granted to a proiestanQ held
binding on the lands. The rents reserved
by the Company, from the Irish occupying
Tenants of these lands, \^efe all made payable
at Strongb6w's tomb, in the cathedral of
Christ Church, in the city of Dubhn. This
gaUing badge of slavery and conquest having
been inflicted doubtless, in the rancorous spirit
of haughty domination with which untU almost
our own times, it has ever been the custom
of theur Saxon conquerors to treat the " mere
Irish," as in scorn they termed their serfs,—
the inscription upon ihe aforesaid tomb stating,
^jl^Pirhftjje Earie^S^gbowe," to have been

" the first and principal inwader of Irelande."

■^

s L^ ^

S5|4*^^A?i'v> * .V»"'.Af.

ALTHAM.

Many other particulars excited the attention of
the law student, which would be scarcely read
^y you, good reader, had we theif;ruelty to
inflict them ; and, to say the truth, with which
you Kave as little to do as with the above
recited legahcuriosities.

Mr. Qoill's first letter entered at length on,

the cgise of Bushe's mission, giving the most.

detailed instructions as to his proceedings.

I A postscript hne mentioned Alinesley as giving

Isatisfaction, and being well. The next epistE

contained a liberal remittance to enable Buslie

to enjoy tTie idle time which would necessarily

')e his. in the interval of the sessions of the

j&w Courts ^plainly evincing Mr. Quill's

ie^re that he should remain in Town: to

i^hich, assuredly, he had no disinchnation.

Ir. Dawkins had furnished him with letters

rhich enabled him to spend such' evenings as

^ere not devoted to the Opera or Theatre—

that taking into consideration that this was
ps first visit to the great Babel, it is not tob^
mndered at, that he was in no great hurry to
eturn t o his mu sty law books. Thus three
lontTis passed, wHencBushe, wondering that "

VOL. 11.

r''^^KLiijU"a tr^ Wj*:*'^^ yrf^^'^^fr^Cji?^

ALTHAM.

his uncle took no notice of his questions about ;
his protege, wrote directly to Annesley— Weeks
elapse^, and'feis lettet remaining unanswered
caused hini some unet^siness ; he consoled
himself, however, . with the thought that it
might have miscarried, and with the belief,
- that had anything serious occurred to Jemmy,
Mr. Quill would have informed him ; he
however, wrot^ again, enclosing his letter to
, hife uncle, for though he was one whose nature
' it was— "

■ '- " When an equal poise of hope and fear

, I Did arbitrate the event"—

fo choose the former ; still the attorney's
strange silence respecting one in whose weal
h6 knew his nephew's interest, and his letters
^ remaining unanswered, made him uncora-V
fortable. He therefore waa^anxiously expecting
an tosWer from Annesley, when the postman
handed in a letter with the Galway mark.
Bushe did not at first recognise the writing,
and with that so easily to be gratified!
inquisitiveness, which we all have felt, he!
turned it over mor^ than onc^, exannning the

superscription, anfthe impression ; h lengtB

>-^-^-t

^S6v

v-V-

ALTHAM.

curiosity ^ot the better of this unaccountable
Feeling — he broke the seal and j^ead as
follows :-*■

; Galway, January 10, 18 — .
Dear Bushe,

I think I mentioned in my last, that I was
Icomihg down here to oUr young friend Daly,
I to have some shooting— finding myself in your
luncle's neighbourhood, I determined to call
Hnd see young AnnesJey. Mr. Quill* received^

le^in his inner office — pardon me,' dear Bushe,
for saying that neither the old gentleman's

)ersonal appearance, nor his shop prepossessed
in his favor. On enquiring for Jemmy, he

M me that he really could not say where he

ras at that moment. I said I would call
in, to which, although he looked sulky, hfe

id not object. Happening to mention his
^ame at the dinner table at Mr. Daly's, I

imed with some astonishment, that just
previously to your leaving for London he had
^een reappointed to Lord Altham's agency—
jiy suspicion was jit once aw ak^ed. hd ling asc
Fou may recollect, much doubt of this samjel

' ^^ft^u, ■ •

ALTHAM.

i!,h,

Lord's intentions, when he offered to reheve
you of the care of his nephew when wounded.
I therefor^, called early the next day on Mr.
Quill, but found him from home, and on the
succeeding day learnt that he had gone to
towUi and was not expected to return for some
time. Of Jemmy the people at his house
either knew or would tell nothing ; I therefore
determined to await the attorney's return,
knowing that his business would not allow his
absenting himself for any length of time, and
that if (as I judged) such were his purpose,
he could easily evade me in town. I took
care to make my intention known to his greasy
cynical looking old clerk, and the result was,
that as I expected, he came home fully a
fortnight earlier than I had been led to expect.
On ftiy being shewn in„ the morning of his
arrival, he, after no very cordial greeting!
asked —

" Are you come again about that boy? "

"Yes." .

" Well, then, I no longer see any use iiij
congealing, that he has been indented as a
vagrant by his natujral guardian. I should

> r^

ALTHAM.

have informed you of this when last you were
here, but that my fooUsh nephew has taken a
sort of fancy to t"his young vagabond, and I
■did not wish that he should be disturbed
(whilst transacting important business about
which I have employed hp) concerning a
matter for which when he dispassionately .
considers it, he iTiU thank me heartily ; and
now, sir, that you have the information which
alone, as I suppose, you sought here, I trust
that you will not think me discourteous if I
remind you that my business is in arrear in
consequence of my absence from home."

Sheer astonishment had hindered my inter-
rupting this oration, and even kept me silent,
when your good uncle arose and moved
towards the door, for the purpose of bowing
me out ; at length I recovered from this
feeling of stupid amazement.

" By whose authority has this been done,
sir ?— depend upon it, it shall be enquired into.''

" Be it 80," he replied, " you will find,
young sir, that the authority was competent.
A ll ow m e ogam to remi o d y o u tlit t i my tii
is too vahiable to be taken up thus."

b. 4.'Ki,^' ^ -LiSi. t' * j^fc-^stS-^feiW* 'at'^d-

■\>-

ALTHAM.

A bitter rejoinder rose to my lips, but I
suppressed it, and left the office in, I confess
it, no very charitable mood towards Mr. QuiU.
I have since made enquiries at every place
where I thought I might obtain information,
and can only learn that our poor boy has been
sent to sea in a vessel which lay here for some
time under pretence of - being an African
trader, but turned out, as it appears, a
pirate ; and which, after cripplmg an English
cruiser that had been sent to take her,
escaped to sea.

I have thus, dear Bushe, given you a
narrative of the means by which I have learned
so much of this sad business — it will be for
you to consider your course. I know your
situation as respects Mr. Quill, and you may
depend on it that my father's zeal and my own
will leave no stone unturned to penetrate its
depths — to recover if possible poor Annesley,
and to punish his persecutors.

As ever, yours.

H. Dawk INS.

A. Bushc, Esq.

ALTHAM.

Bushe had more than once started to his
feet whilst reading Henry Dawkins' letter.
On concluding it, he mused for some moments,
feeling perfectly stunned at his uncle's baseness.
He never had loved or respected Mr. Quill,
but had felt grateful to him for benefits
conferred, and now deeply lamented that he
was forced by cilfcumstances to assume a
hostile attitude ; for, never for an instant did
he hesitate as to his course, fte mechanically
read the sentence in Dawkins' lettef- suggesting
the probability of his leaving to others the
task of compeUing justice to his young friend,
but read it without thinking of its obvious
meaning. After musing for a few minutes, he
packed up his necessaries, discharged his bill,
and taking a coach called on his uncle's agents,
and having informed them that business of the
utmost import required his instant presence in
Ireland, and calmly pointed out that in the
j present stage of the business which they were
I jointly carrying on, no injury could accrue
from his absence. He drove to the Spread
Ea gfe, Grace C hurch Street, fo r &t the time
that ancient hostlery was in the zenith of its

idSR

ALTHAM.

fame, and took his place in the Liverpool
Coach. On the day week from that on which
he left town, (a journey at the time of almost
unequalled velocity,) he landed in Dublin, and
drove at once, though it was late at night, to
Mountjoy Square, where he found Mr. Dawkins
and his son, who had that day returned from
Galway, in deep debate on the subject which
had so hurriedly and unexpectedly recalled him.
" A thousand times welcome, Bushe," said
Henry, as he entered the drawing room where
they held their conclave ; " this is a bad
business; but we feared that we should not
have your assistance, and indeed still you
should consider what ypu are about."

J' Surely, Henry, you cannot suppose that
I could hesitate, or that I would accept hrehd
at the price of my independence, nay, of my
honesty."

" You are in the right, Bushe," said Mr.
Dawkins, " you are abje to work your own
way in the world ; nay, it vnll be better for
you in the end that you should do so — a hot-
ho us e p l ant .ra re ly s ucc eed s when transpl a nted
into the common atmosphere. All I can sny,

ALTHAM.

l11 I can snv,

my dear fellow, is, that my house is ever open
, to you, and that in the prosecution of this
matter, you will consider me your banker;
you must remember*^ that we took almost as
deep an interest in Annesley as you did."

" Without hesitation I shall avail myself of
your assistance, sir." I start for Galway in the
morning, as my first exertions must be to
find out the motives of my uncle, and if
possible to obtain some clearer clue as to what
has become of poor Annesley."

" On mature consideration," rephed Mr.
DAwkins, "I think that Henry is right in
supposing that Lord Altham is at the. bottom
of the whole aflair; and if we can asc^rfein ,
that this is the case, we may feel assured that
he is" influenced by most important motives,
for otherwise he would hardly run the risk of
kidnapping the boy, knowing that we should
sift 'it to the bottom."

" Mn. Quill seems little apprehensive of the
result of any measures we may take," said
Henry; " he would not else have so boldly
a dm i tted t b e ^app r enti ci n g ot A n nesley^" - =^—

He kmltts he could not conceal it on

1,1

i'»

!J|!

ALTHAlf.

Bashe's retuni, and that in fact he could not
hide it from you for any period ; he was
moreover aware that if he made a mystery
abolit it, t/iat would tell against ' him in the
; investigation which he well knew must take
place! On the whole, he has played his part
ably-«with the * wisdom of the serpent,** at
least, if' not with the ' harmlessness of the
dove.' I am sorry th^tmy brother-in-law has
left; he would ;have been Isoth an. able arid a
zealous assistant." . .•

" How fortunate poor Jemmy has been, Jllr.
Ddwkins, to havfe made so many friends at the
crisis of liis fortune ; had he been kidnapped or
murdered a few months ago, there would have
been no one to make a fuss about it, except
indeed poor Mary Weedon, whom, as you
know, sir, he used to call his inother. I now
much doubt whether he was right in so doing,
though I did not then after qu^tioning her on
the subject. By the way, I must see her, and
tell her every thing : when she left DubUn, she
made me promise, that if He should fall into
' his dad uncle's hands,' I would at once let her

knpw ; I have only this moment remembered

ALTHAMv-

it, yet she may be a useful auxiliary, having
attended hiln jfrom his infancy, and of course
being conversant with the history of the
, Althams."

" 'I'hat is a good thought, Bushe," replied
Henry,' " I wonder it did not occur to me.
You will recollect I met her at your chambers
at college, and at the time t certainly should
have asked her more than your good-nature
permitted you. With my father's leave, I
will accompany you to Galway, and thence to
Dunmaine, where no doubt Mary Weedon
still is with her vagabond husband. Ton. my
honor I dare not write to Isabella Brock,
though I promised to correspond wjth her by
every packet, without being better able to
account for Annesley's whereabout — the darling
little puss is hatf in love with him."

" I was about to propose that you should
go with Bushe," said Mr. Dawkins. " pj^
connections and friends may be of avail to y^
in the country. I am a^re Mr. Daly will
put you on the right scent in Galway. He is
getting old, and rarely acts in his i riagisterial
capacity ; but I know no one of more clear

ALTHAM.

judgment, when he can overcome a laziness
which, to say the truth, is constitutional; or
who, when his interest is excited in a .case,
as in this I have no doubt it will, exerts
himself more."

"I can assure you, sir, that ere I left, the
interest you suppose needed, was effectually
aroused. He hates Mr. Quill from the bottom
of his heart ; some tenants of his also hold lapd
from Jbps^ Altham, and (pardon nie, Bushe,)
your uncii has of late screwed the poor deyils
to the uttermost. This, in Galway, is a new
system, and Mr. Daly has, in almost all the
cases of this, mutual ownership, been the
sufferer to the full extent of his rent, as he
would not exact his rights from poois^etches
whose cattle and crops were sold for even the
last groat, by Lord Altham. Of course this
aided his old antipathy to Quill, together
with finding his name associated in the same
commission with his own. You may believe
too, sir, that my eloquence in Annesley's
behalf was not spared on him."

" Well. I am g ladj^ bo ys, that you vvill have
his assistance, for his opinion carries the

't. .

AL^HAM.

weight it' Qught to ^6 in the county; the
people are devoted to him, as they invariably
are to the few landlords who, do not abuse
their position. Good night, i)iy lads— my old '"
eyes grow heavy — I shall see you before you ^
go in the morning." « ^:.

•' I fear it will be too early for you, sir ; the
coach starts at five— Bushe and I must leave
this half an hour earlier."

" Well then, God bless you — keep me well
informed of your movements — good night.''
^ " Is not the old governor a trump ? " asked
Dawkins, after his father left. " I hardly
think you take more interest in Annesley's
fate than he does. I thought, when first I .
told him what my letter informed you of, that
he would have gone and accused Lord Altham
of what he might suspect, but could not prove.
We'have since had long consultations on the
course to be adopted, but some how, could iiot^
fall on anything likely to succeed. Your uncle
has, doubtless, entrenched himself within legat
ramparts, which it will task our utmost efforts

J^J^^?^ ^ ^^^ yQ^ ^ve ^Q-»ight 8uggfist.f>d the „
true source to be relied on, in Mary Weedon -

/' i-t-f

ALTHAM.

that is i£ she still lives — she scarcely looked
Hkely to outlast the winter, when I saw her at
your rooms."

" Well, it is time to turn in now, Harry ;
and, to say^the truth, I need rest, for with the
exception of some ten hours of sea-sickneaa
and misery on board the packet, I have not
been in bed for a week. Have me called in*
time, for I verily believe that, anxiety notwith-
standing, I should sleep for two or three days
otherwise. My constitution generally makes
up for any grievance it may be subjected to in
that way."

Chapter IV.

" She is asle^ good wencb,— let's ^it down quiet,
For fear we wake her."

HiNRT vni.

The communication^ by public stage between
Dublin and the ancient jcity of the tribes, is
one of the oldest in Ireland; and whilst on
other routes, at a distance from Dublin, the
traveller "rode post " as he best could, either
hiring or buying cattle. Even at the period
, of our tale, a pubHc conveyance was no novelty
on the Galway road — slowly, though at a
steady pace, it jolted along, racking the bones
of its unfortunate passengers. Yet although
staging is there of such ancient date, the
reader may infer that it has, or, at least twoaty
years ago had, not reached any great degree -
of ex celle nce, when we inform him, in sober

seriousness, that in the year of m^ice 1828, we

■■». ■ \ ^^ ■$ ' ■ " - '

t^JiS

ALTHAM.

travelled from Loughrea to Connolley's hotel,
in the county town, in a Hearse, and that
such was the ordinary conveyance plying
between those places, of which carriage, if we
recollect aright, the inn-keeper aforesaid was
the proprietor. This sia^e had received some
trifling alt\^atidhs, but- still retained its dome-
shaped head, and lugubrious gildings might
be traced through the coat of rough paint
which was intended to cover them. The
panel of the door was adorned with a skeleton
figtire menacing the entering traveller with a
brandished scythe ; and on the adjoining sides
were to be seen ,angels, skulls, cross-bones,
and hour-glasses ; nevertheless, although at
first we confess to some ; rather unpleasant
feelings, we certify that after we h$d shaken
into our places, a merrier party of six in sides
n^er passed over that most bone-dis^locating
of all earthly roads. True it is, that in such
torrents fell the rain, we could only occasionally
calch a glimpse at the prospect ; but decis^iedly
this was an advantage ; for a more desolately
dreary view can scarcely be imagined— ythe

country was covered with loose stones of all

■J-

'Y\

altham;.

dimensions, with hardly a vestiga of green to
be discovered between ; but then our Hearse
was waterproof. We were a party of fellow
collegians, and had become very intimate in
I the canal boat, which brought us to Loughrea,
I far more comfortably, and quite as fast as we
were now finishing our travel, (well might it
I be so named.) The roughest part of the
jjourney was through the streets of Galway.
jWe were used to the wretched tumble-down
appearance of Irish countrjr towns, but tjiis
city astonished us \^ its misery, as much, as
^'udgiag from appearances, it must have struck
3ur friends, Dawkins and Bushe, by its
lourishing prosperity, when they arrived, as
they in safety did three days after we lost
sight of them. -"Nations and cities die as
i^eU as men/'— And poor Galway appeared, in
1828, far gone in fever and ague ; so tottering,
Md, and squalid, did it seem, — having,'
nevertheless, an air of fade4 respectabiUty
rhich touched the heart.— Luckily our friends
iad not to entrust the supplying of their
M% wants to thg^te nderjaercies^^ a Galw ay-

idlord-HBJthough in olden times, they miffht

VOL. II. J) ' ^ »

;,*^

ALTHAM.

ililij!

p^haps We attained some thing besides
salmon and whiskey, the only viands in vogue
there twenty years ago.

They drove at once to Mr. Daly^s ; the old

gentleman received them hospitably, and

although for a brief space he could not forget

that Bushe was Mr. Quill's nephew, that soon

wore off before the student's honest candor ;

and Mr. Daly was, jjerhaps, willing to be still

more friendly, from^Hhe feeling that he had

done one frieQ^injustice. They found their

host in p^session of all the particulars

respectingt^e indenting of Annesley — such

proceedijlgs^ere of common occurrence. The

government of the day, much more anxious to I

settjjf "the colonies, than scrupulous about the

' rt(eans, held out inducements to parents

/ overburdened with large families, — to the

guardians of the poor, and the relatiom of

friendless children, to rid themselves of the

incumbrance, by indenting them to captains

or Owners of vessels, who found the means of

transport to the Plantations,— receiving from

t hei r n ominal apprentic es, but real sla ves^ jnj

engagement to work in the colonies for such

- ■( . /'"f^

ALTHAM.

shipowners or their assigns. These indentures
they set up, on their arrival, for public auction
to the highest bidder, and the slavery of these
^ unfortunates was far more bitter than that now
endured, amongst their "free and enlightened"
descendants, by the negro population.* No
doi^ rested on Mr. Daly's mind that poor
jAnnesley was at this moment eating the bitter
jbread of slavery, and he had hitherto been
lunable to strike out any plan for his recovery.
Mr. Quill, as Henry Dawkins supposed, had
avoided laying himself^^pen to the law. The
old rascal appeared very much astonished,
rhen, on the morning after his arrival, his
lephew entered his sanctum, but received him
Tith his usual manner.

"Why, Amos, what brings you here?
four last letter said nothing of your intention
" return."

♦ We are not aware that the indentmg of emigrant, i.

legal even af the pre^snt day. In our own memory, a fellow

pprenticed a cargo in Cork Harbour, aqd wld their .ervice. at

feCapeofGoodHope. The affair made much noine w hen it.

td«ract«r1»ame tnowto ; but he laughed at the"
«blic indignation, having become affluent by hi. .peculation.

■:J:M&M^1 Jlb.Ji ^ (.-. . J^^ 3 L 'Jjlb. aJdi»^'.'f l^• i^fflbii

ALTHAM.

" Nor did I then intend it, sir. Without
preface, I ask what you have done with young
Annesley ? "

" I have thought it right to relieve you of
the burden of his support. I do not exactly
see how you could reconcile it to yourself to
press more heavily on me than was needful for
your 6wn."

" I never exceeded the allowance you gave
me, sir ; and the little I should have been
obliged to expend on the boy, I should have
retrenched from my own expenses ; but we are
wide of the question. I entreat you to tell me
how we may regain the unfortunate boy."

" Even if I wished it, that is impossible now.
He is earning his own bread, as / have always j
dtne, and will most likely do well abroad."

" Am I then to expect no further information |
from you, sir? "

" I have none to give."

" You hav© been kind to me ; but now, sir,!
you force me to say that I am sorry ever to
have received obligation at your hands. I am
not without friends, and this ujirighteous

business shall be sifted to the bottom.

'^;,Sp:

r'f

ALTHAM.

Mr. Quill was not prepared for such
resolution on hk nephew's part,— as the latter '
turned to leave the office, he said— "

" In what I have done, I have been actuate«l
with the sole View of doing you good. I have
nothing to fear^m any investigation ; but
mark me, sir jUold you presume to shew
your ingratituOTby endeavoring to stir up idle
prej^ces against me^, you have no further
I favor to expect at my'hands."

" I shall not seek it; do you suppose me

I base enough to be indebted to you, after what

has passed. I will work hard to repay the

expense you have been at on my account, and

I that of my poor mother."

" Well spouted, sir ; doubtless you deem
I what you have said as creditable to yourself as
it is painful to me; for once, at least, I have
conferred favors, and I ought to have expected
the usual harvest— my want of foresight is
annoying. Leave me." -,

Without comment, Bushe did as he Was bid-
I den, and returned to Mr. Daly's. When he had
kyounted what had taken plar,e at Km interview /

Iwith his uncle, the old gentleman said—

■f

ALTHAM.

' " You have not a moment to lose, boys, in
going to Dunmaine — ^tjiat rascal will act with
determination, now that he is put to it, — my
son will ride over with you. It is a rough
country, but I can mount you well, and a ride
of a couple of hours will bring you to Lord
Althai^'s place. I passed an evening there
once with his .rollicking brother.— Egad we
have had some hard ^ing fellows in Galway,
but lie worst of them was slow, compared to
him. One night in his house was enough for
me,v-he had around him as choice a rabble as
Comus, and their wassailing was as noisy. I
suppose the old place is going to wreck, for it
has been long deserted."

Accompanied by young Daly, our friends
were soon cantering across the park at
Dunmaine. It was a wide expanse of wood and
lawn; much of the timber was^ evidently the I
remains of the primeval forest. Magnificent
avenues shaded by ojd gnarled oaks, led across
it in various directions, and imdemeath reposed
immense herds of deer. At a distance might
be ^een the old m ansion^ Muse, gre y witli
time, having its steep gables, and curiously

'f^:

ALTHAM,

clustered chimneys, wreathed with luxuriant
ivy. It was a bright, frosty, winter evening,
and the half dozen spaniels which followed
Daly, nqw chaced the hares which each moment
started from their forms — now flushed the
skirring coveys, long unused to such intrusion.
The park, at least, had been well kept, and the
Earl's game-keepers had done their duty.

" By Jove," cried Dawkins, it puzzles me
much how the ^wner of such a pljace as this
can condescend to hang about our faJ-ce of an
IrisK Court; if 1 were he, my visits to town
would be few and far between. What a prinbe
this Lord Altham might be here/' . j

" Most likely he would' be about as happy

as the l^te Lord," replied Bushe. " Hd is notia

man to enjoy the country ; young Mountmorr^s

however will b#of a different stamp— I cat

I fancy him one of these days a regul^ patriaix;h ;

but here we are— the old house seems shuf

up—I wonder whether we shall get-inPI" \

Loudly and repeatedly they rappecl, and

I rung peals of the sonorous hall bell, whicW

Iresounded ^m b a se m ent to garret, througb^

the empty old house, but had nigh given up'

•J.

i'-

..'4' .ilsSi'.

mw-

■■- ■ *.■ ■' .— -

■»

' ' ■ *".

•

lillff. • '

1 ill

■ ■.:. '.

■.■^^

i 1 1 i ^

111

56.

AT.THAM.

the effort in despair, when an elderly lady was
seen coming through a door*^in an ojd moss-
clad wall, which probably enclosed the garden.
The young men ceased their clamorous demands
for entrance, as she slowly approached. She
did not perceive theni until within a few paces,
when she stopped and gazed on the unwonted
presence of strangers, with unfeigned astonish-
ment. Her voice was harsh and imperious as
she asked — *

" How got you into the park, sirs? "
" Why faith, madam, very much against the
wish of the good woman at the gate, by which
we entered ; fortunately we found it on the
latch — a young girl having just passed out,
and once we were in, the portress vainly tried
to persuade us to return,*' answered Bushe.
" The truth is. Madam," he continued, " my|
friend, Mr. Dawkins, and I, kijew a poor
woman named Mary Weedon, who now resides
here, in Dublin, and having something of impor-
tance to tell her, have taken the liberty ahnostl
to force an entry into the domain. May I ask,
I, wb^&w^ige^likdy to fi nd he r?" „
" Unless your business is of very great I

'I- IV

ALTHAM.

importance to others, sir, you must not
intrude on her now. With earth and its '
concerns she has weU nigh done," answered
the lady in a softened tone.

" It is of the utmost importance to one whom
I am mistaken if she loves not more than her
ownUfe."' " • .

" It must then relate to the boy whom she
calls Jemmy.— She .has lain, poor thing, during
long dehrious nights--s6metimes aecusiiig him
of deserting her, and again thanking God that
he was safe. Know you ought of him young
sir ? " This question was accompanied with a^ ,
quick, enquiring gl&nce, which assured Bushe
that the old lady was not, unacquainted with
Annesley's history. \

" It is on his account that I wish to see
Mary Wee,don— our interview should take
place at once."

" It shall, su* ; but you must comq alone-
she is not in a state to admit the presence of
strangers."

" Our conference should have witnesses,
^QJy, a n d fo r t hat purposa I Jiave^brought =
these gentlemen."

" ■w i i .'ik -^afTT^M'WRrt

'■'(■■ , : -,' !^

ALTHAM.

"I cannot consent to it, sir, it would kill
her — my evidence wiHi suffice to corroborate
your statement of what may pass. May I ask
whether your name is Bushe ? "
"It is, madam."

"Well, sir, we will go together to Mrs.
Weedon's, — meanwhile tell me if all is well
with Jemmy ? "

" The qtlestion was embarrassing, but Bushe
, saw that it was put with anything but hostile
motives ; he, however, parried it for the time,
answering merely —
\ " i trust it may be, madam."

The old lady's keen eye had been intently
fixed on the student, as if endeavoring to
anticipate his answer, which she heard with a
disappointed sigh, and turning to his com-
panions she said —

" I presume, gentlemen, that I need not
apologise at leaving you for an hour to amuse
yourselves — we shall scarcely be detained
longer. Come, Mr. Bushe."

The good lady^ dress was that of a liouse-
keepCTr^g^^<ya_companion in^Anoble famjl
but there*was that in her demeanor which

"•/■

ALTHAM.

convinced Bushe that if such in reality were
her situation, she had sought to shelter age in
a very different sphere from that in ^hich she
was brought'up. In her expressions of interest
in Annealey and Mary Wfeedon, he felt that
unhesitating confidence which is the freema-
sonry of honorable minds. Thanking his stars,
therefore, for such a fortunate alliance, he
followed her towards the gate in the mo^s-grown
wall, whence she had first issued— it led to an
'old garden, kept in the fashion so much in
vogue a century ago: the hedges and standards
cut into grotesque shapes, and the walks of
raised velvet turf; a show of flowers at that
season of the year was, of course, impossible,
but the nekly trimmed beds with their mat-
covered shtubs and plants, shewed that the
gardener (|id not neglect his duty. In passing
through, tliey fqund him superintending some
laborers. IHe greeted the lady with a deep
reverence/ hut gazed on her companion with
unconcealed/ wonder.

■ ' Lord iJtham's orders prohibit strangers
^enteringfl^immadne/' she remarkftd, **,These ,
good p0oble are astonished at finding them^

AL^akM.

transgressed — more especially at my counte-
nancing it. I risk much by so doing, sir, but
I could not refuse your wish to see poor Mary ;
her hours are numbered, and she has shiewn
such anxiety to hear of her boy, that I have
little doubt it would kill her at once to learn
that I h^d prevented it." They had now
passed through the garden, leaving it on the
other side by a wicket similar to that by which
they' had entered. An avenue, shaded by
ancient trees, led them a few hundred yards
to a cottage so embowered by evergreens that
Bushe was not aware of its existence until on
the threshold. The old lady raised the latch
and entered, followed by the student ; a woman
nearly her cotemporary was busied at the fire
preparing something for Mrs. Weedon, — ^her
wonder was still greater than the gardener's at
seeing the housekeeper so accompanied.

" Any change since I left ? " asked the lady,
taking no notice of the obvious amazement of
the nurse.

" No madam, at least none for the worse ;
Mrs. Weedon is asleep, and has not for weeks
slept so soundly."

ALTHAM.

" Alas," thought Bushe, " my tidings will
not contribute to her rest." ■

"We must wait her awaking," said the
housekeeper. " It would, be a sin to disturb
her; poor thing, she rarely enjoys a sle^p of
even a few unbroken minutes, nor do I
anticipate that we shall have long to wait" "

" Sleep seldom visits sorrow ;
When it doth, it is a comforter."

For half an hour they sat silently, expecting
the invalid's waking, of which they were*made
aware by the tinkle of a bell with' which the
housekeeper's kindness had furnished the
cottage. Intimating to Bushe that she went
to prepare Mary to receive him, the ladj
entered alone. She found poor Maiy re-
invigorated indeed by her long sleep, but as
her experienced eye told her, verging on one of
infinitely longer duration. A burning hectic
spot glowed oiLlfer otherwise wan cheek; her
eye was bright, but shone with a fitful lusTre
which deluded not—it was the momentary
flash of an expiring lamp.

" This i s kind indee d, honored lady— I did

nof hope to see you again to-night."

ALTHAM.

" My poor friend, you must nerve yourself
for an interview which I fear may be painful.
Mr. Bushe is in this house, and I am certain
brings tidings of Jemmy."

A slight scream escaped the invalid — " Nay,
nay, dear Mary, be calm, all may be, and I
trust, is well. I dared not enter on the subjedt
with him — I wished to find out something
from him, but he manifestly was unwilling to
.trust a stranger, and I feared to let him suspect
the deep interest I had in learning the news he
brought. You must endeavor to be yourself,
my ever faithful friend ; even he must not
know our secret, at least at present. Do you
think that you are equal to this meeting ? "

" Oh, yes, madam, — I must see him, and
hear what he has to tell. God grant that it
may be no ill tidings, for I fear L could not
bear them.**

Again a shght tinkle of the bell was heard,
and the old nurse having entered the sick
woman's room, resumed and beckoned Bushe
to follow her. The student stole on tiptoe
into poor Mary's room — ^the first momentary
excitement over, she^ had sunk on her pillow;

ALTHAM,

panting and exhausted. Weak and faded as
he had last seen her in Dublip|^ started at

place;

r 1 , * WIKF "^^^ still

burned on her hollow cheek,lj^^fliurried
breathing ever interrupted by al&iow cough
one had thought her an exceedingly emaciated
corpse, so wan appeared her face and neck •
but on hik entrance, she raised herself on her
wasted an4 and gazed in his face wjth mute
but eloquent questioning. On his hesitating
to communicat^Jidin^s whose effect he feared
she gasped out-^ . *

" For God sakK speak, sir, and teU me all »
Thus adjm-ed, \ succinctly narrated how

Mr. Quill had got him out of the way, and

with Weedon's assistance, kidnapped the boy
Mrs. Weedon bore the recital with more

firmness than he had expected; when he had

ended, she said —

" At length then they have gone so far, that

though a dying woman, I feel it my duty to

break an oath, which I never should have-

taken. That oath, anljts consequences^bave

^^TOea my life accursed, but it was imposed

AliTHAM. .

% Jemmy's fatlier, and he swore that it was
for the boy's good ; by it I pledged myself
never to tell what I knew of occurrences at
Dunmaine. Now then, cruelty to its true heir,
(for so my poor boy is,) has passed all bounds,
and I con»der it my duty to tell you all.
Nay, dearest lady, I know Mr. Bushe — fear
him not, he is all kindness and honor. In
that wronged lady, sir, you see our poor boy's
mother. The Lord Altham, who is gone to his
account, (God be merciful and pardon him,)
shortly after Jemmy's birth, sought occasion
of quarrel with my lady, cast her off, and so
managed matters that the country believed
they were never marripd ; the witnesses are
dead or absent, ^d the parish registers show
no entry of tlfe marriage, altho' the^ do of
parties married on the same day. I often in
lon§ past days spoke with persons wllo had
been by at the ceremony, but on my return
heii last autumn, sought in vain for any of
them. 1/jovL may imagine my astonishment
«>when I foiuad my honored ladjT acting as
housekeeper.^ By jhe aid of her ^^^ old

servant^ the steward and gardener, she had^Kouse

ALTHAM.

been represented to Lord Altham as theHdow
of a gentleman in the neighbourhood, and be
employed her, little imagining that she was his
brother's widow ; he had indeed long supposed
her dead, as I also did."

" But, lady," asked Buslie, " what induced
you to allow a doubt of your son's right to
the succession ? "

" Alas, sir, my story is a most unhappy one ;
deserted by my kindred, my lonely situation
induced Lord Altham to indulge in designs
against my honor ; finding himself frustrated,
he sought me in marriage ; young, inexpe-
rienced, dependant on the bounty of unkind
relatives, who seconded his suit with all their
power, I at length consented, though with a
foreboding heart— would to God I had listened
to its promptings, or had rather married the
poorest peasant on his vast estates. My
husband was a capricious tyrant, whose passion
having quickly subsided, he treated me with
the utmost barbarity ; by mutual consent we
separated, and for twenty years all intercourse
ceased, when unfortuna tel y we m et « f th e

ner, she had ■louse of a mutual acquaintance in ,Dublin

■ ' VOL. II. £ '

ALTHAM.

where neither expected the other's presence.
' Lord Altham could assume any character he
chose, and, notwithstanding my previous
knowledge of him, his pretended penitence
deceived me, and I suffered myself to be
persuaded that he had changed. A recon-
ciliation took place, and we came to live a^
Dunmaine; but, alas, my eyes were soon
opened — ^he assembled around him a horde of
his most vicious acquaintances — days and
nights were passed in mad riot and sottish
debauch, whilst to me his conduct was more
cruel than at first. I however bore up as
well as I could, for I was about to become a |
mother. Increased uproar and revelry marked .
the period which heralded my unfortunate
son's birth ; for his sakdl I lived, for I fell
what a.situation his would hk if I suffered my
weary frame to sink. Yeari passed, during
wl^ich my only comfort was my boy, whom I
removed to my faithful Mary's house. About
this time, Lord Altham first met a being who|
contrived to render my misery still more acute,

JDuring

on e of his

Miss Gregory

short Residences JP P^^^°'

had fascinated him, an3|

ALTHAM.

67f

thenceforth he strove by aU peans .in his
power to drive me from his house; fiading
neglect and cruelty unavaiHng, he at lengths
succeeded by bringing an abominable accusa-
tion against me. This drov^ me to despair-^
I returned to town, and only twice since have
seen my poor boy. As long^as his father
treated him with common dece% I was
satisfied ; but finding after a time that he was
regarded as illegitimate, I summoned resolution
: once more to see Lord Altham,— he received
me at first moj-e courteously than I expected,
but on my alluiTmg to bis treatment of oi* son,'
stated in coarse terms that I had never beej^
legally his wife, of which I might easily satisfy
myself; that the party who officiated at the *>
mock ceremony was not in orders,--that as
for Jemmy, he would have him^rought up as *
|befitted his future station in life.

I was struck dumb with astonishment and
borror— I knew Lord Altham to be capable of
^he baseness of which he had accused himself.
-wa» carried fainting from his house, and
leve r s a w him agai n. On my i - eco v erjr from

*d hin,, .«« 3evere iUness, which w»8 the result of this

'■1^.

ALTIIAM.

interview, I employed a person in whom I
could confide^ to j investigate the tmth of my
destroyer's assertions, and his report fully
corroborating them, determined to hide my
shame in a foreign convent ; and selling my
jewels and other remn?ints of former d^ys, I
went to Prance ; but continued ill health
rendered me unable for some years to carry out
my resolution, and on my partial restoration,
/finding that Lord Altham was dead, the advice
of my medical attendants, together with an
eager desire once more to see my son, inducedJ
me to return to Ireland. With a beating
heart, I sought Mary Weedon at Dunmaine,-
even my old servants did not recognise me,
such was the alteration which sorrow and long |
sickness had wrought. I then formed the plan
of residing here permanently, under an assumed
name, and made myself known to the steward
and gardener, both of whom loved their old
mistress well. Shortly after my arrival, Lord|
Altham sent instructions that a new house
keeper should be employed in the room of onel
who had ktel j^ did. a n d on the stjwa rd^

mentioning the matter to me, I detcmuucd to

ALTHAM.

assume that Character. I dreaded to write to
Mary Weedon, (who, I found, was in Dublin
her husband being. a servant of the present
Lord's,) fearing that my letter might fall into
wrong hands,, and' determined to wait until
the steward went to town, to lay his quarterfy
accounts before Lord Altham ; but ere this
time came, poor Mary arrived at Dunmaine •
she too had suffered much, and her constitution
bemg unequal to the burden, was sinking fast
Her account of my son's situation on th«
whole comforted me, although, it deferred
mdefinitely my prospect of seeing him. You
know ^U, Mr. Bushe-may I enquire what
course do you propose to take ?^\,

" I confess, lady, that I km aS loss how to
proceed.-Weedon must be in the cofifidence
of his employer;— do you thinlj^ we « do
[anything with him?"

"It must be tried at least, Mr. Bushe"^
saidM^^. "I feel that my end is neai;
1 wiU see him once more--it may be that he

|will hearken to me, -at least I will -"

■ jjtjimstjo t b^

|AItham~- yon arc unequal to such an inter-

«. >°

?«f.

vifiWj^ it wmiM |)ut huiry jo||
at mftlfer^, dear I

sooner or later. Believe me
^ if I ielt that I^ft aught
, ,^ '^hj^ might benefit po(Hf Jemmy.

*^/^Si«||^ see «John> and that at once, jfc time is
^ 'y^ mosl'precious now." ^|^

% . " Be it so then— I will send to the s^ward's,

land have him brought hither. Mr; Buo^he and

I will return before he can be here— meilnwhile,

my poor Mary, endeavour io rest." ^ .

• f

^ \

. iiii

■ /.

""""Wr

'"'1^

t B,',Jl

i^.

Chapter V.

"Oh ill starr'd wench :
Pale as thy smock ! wht^n we shall peet at coriipt.
Th,s look of thine will hurl my soul from heuvLn."

^ pTaKi.1,0.

I TRUST, Mr. Bushe, your friends will p^'dou
our long absence/' said Lady Althari, aa they
I ^"^^'^^^ fro^ tl^e garden, and approached &e
house, " Gentlemen," she continued, as they
rejomed Bu^he^s compftniois, " our interview
with Mary Weedon, has been much longer
than I anticipated, otherwise I should not
have left you so unceremoniously. We must

U^th^ mtroduce<i|tMi^ bf k gte| door,

r^^";^^ of

the old bmldmg, and led the eentlemen-^irii) a
comforta|Je sitting room, iff which a large
wood fire burned cheerily, and having directed '
pr dea f old domiestifijo place VfreshmeM

3ush

beTore them, said

^.O-

^■^

ALTHAM.

Eli

IpsiiHIP'S'^

)' I think, sir, that I had better go ove^J
myself to the stewar(i's. Although Weedon
has not recognized me, I have by some means
or other acquired a greater influence over him
than is possessed by any person here, and it
may not be amiss that^ I should have some
conversation with him before lie sees Mary."

" Will it not be too great an exertion for
you, madam ? "

" By no means. Though not strong, I am
accustomed to exercise, and it is not more
than half an hour'* walk to and fro."

Then will your ladyship permit #e to

^company you ? "

1 4hink not, Mr. Bushe— Weedon miglit
recognize you, wliicli perhaps would alarm I
him ; " in thr«e-quarters of an hour hence 1 1
shall expect you at the cottage."

^ " I feel that you are right, madam — I shall I
be punctual." « '^^

Lady Altham having first seen the wants of I
her guests supphed, set forth with her (51(1
attendant. After they had ^one, Dawkins
whose * curiosity had been excited by their j
private coriversatiori, asked—

ALTHAM.

^ ^^ " How sped you, Bushe-have you-learned
anything from Mary Weedon ? "

" Much my dear fellow, and expect to get
still more out of her husband^I hope the
rascal iiiay not be drunk: All^ I know to a
certainty, is, that our poor boy is Earl of
Altham, (though how to prove it is another
matter,), and that the lady who has just left us,
IS his mother; it is too long a tale to enter o^^
W, the proofs of her marriage with the late
Lord Altham are wanting." It is unnecessary
to our tale to follow the conversation which
ensued-during it, however, Bushe came to
the determination to question the steward aid-
gardener, and find out how far their evidence
might avail. The time approached at which
he had, promised to meet lady Altham at the
. park,, cottage, h^ therefore left his friends
prcimising to return as speedily as possible.

He rea(^hed the cottage before her, and the
nurse mfofmed hii^t Mary had slept from
almost the mome^ey left.— After a few
mimtm, preceded by lady Altham, the steward
and Weedon entejed. Habi tual d ^banchgT

Trgr«u tic lattc^, a' shadow ; l,cvm»ow7

.'1

■I'T-i^A'

*Pf,''

ALTHAM.

^sober, and evidentl5flotiched"by"^he lady's
;4escriptioh of his poor wife's situation. His
brow contracted oft seeing Bushe,^but other
thoughts mastered his rising petulance. The
house was still as the tomb, save when the
nurse moved lightly across to listen at the door
of tie sick woman's room. After passing an
hodr communing with^their own hearts, 1

Altham broke the long silence, saying in a
voic#«carcelv louder than a whisper —

" \ ai» sorry indeed to disturb your wife,
Weedon, but yo^jnust see her once raor%
before she dies. * ^% ^i;

" Go^fcSod^ madtai, is thire no hope for
her ? " aeked he, deeply affect'edi .That quiet
'ij^ hour of if0M self corpiunion,^ad brought
back vivid;^ to his metooif days |s|, lo>»e,
ere his intemperance-^^fe wrecked iieir
happiness for evei^pe was sdftened. Such a
%nood was that, eftong which the proji^ted'
interview was most likely to ptoduce the
de^ed effect.

" 1 am .sorry to say that I have no hope,
Weedon; nay scarcely do I think that Mary

■^

■=H.

win see to-morrow's ^lin:'*

ALTHAM.

She took a lamp from the table, and softly
ent^ed the invalid's room.. After a brief
^absence she returned much affected.

" It is too late— the misery of «us wretched'
world ^as no longer power- over poor Mtor.
She has been some time dead."
^ The wretched husband, with a i)iercin<r
shn^rushed into the chamber of death, and
stood fcpified by the bedside.-Lady Althkn
had leime Ikmp on the table, on which stood
also the Ji| drink the nurse had made for
poOrMaiy. » brow lately furrowed with
suffermg and q^, was serene and cahn* her
naturaUy beautiful features stood forth more
prominently thanin life, in chiseled lovehness •
a sweet smil^ appeared on her lip, shewing
tljat^hei-Wt moments at least had been
peaceftil-nay, happy. Her attitude rendered
It hkely that herspirit had departed whilst she
slept. One delicate hand was half hidden by
her cheek, and a few raven curls which l^ad
escaped from beneath her cap. One felt tlhe
presence of death, but scarcely his. terror.

" The cata, t he placid air

The rapture of repose ft (7« there."

■'w

ALTIIAM.

■' ;lil

ill

»»^i

Repose, how sweet to that worn frame and
weary spirit, — how welcome

^ " That first dark day of nothingness—

The last of danger and distress,"

is to many, whose earthly pilgrimage has been
a tissue of scarcely interrupted miseiies. How
eagerly does the soul long for the time when
it shall

" Flee away and be at rest."

Mary's appearance was that of sweet sleep,
and were it not for a something awful yet
indescribable — ^,

" Some moments, aye, one fleeting hour,
One still might doubt the tyrant's power."

Weedon was not originally an unfeeling, or
even an ill-tempered man. At one time he
had warmly loved her, who was now (as the
still small voice of conscience whispered,)
mainly through his instrumentality, stretched
on her bier. The indulgence of one groveUing
passion had for years blunted his better
feeUngs, and duting^ its paroxysms (lately of
almost constant recurrence,) he had been a
cruel tyrant to her. The floodgates of his

heart were opened, and Torrents of

AI.THAM.

/■

itr^aTngWuTenter!

unwonted tears burst forth. What would he
now have given for one half her to express
contrition and entreat pardon; but she was
gone-gone for ever, and as he felt that it was
so, he writhed in agony-the time whieh he
spent alone with the dead wrought in him- for
the present at least, a thorough change of
character; but few minutes had elapsed, when
he remembered how ,&- had loved Annesley
and how he had wronge<I him. He bent his'
hps to that cold marble forehead, and mentally
devoted the remainder of his life to the service
of hmi she had loved, and called her son As
these thoughts passed through his mind, a
waster f „ f «,e lan.p, which shed a
bnghtened hghfon poor Maiy's face, and her
Imsband for the first time, noticed the serine
sm.le wh,ch dwelt on her lips. He felt a
niomentaiy g„sh of blood tingle^hrough his
vems-did she know and approyMtention?

benng that mBushe he sho,Jd have a useful
assistant m the career he proposed to pursue '

'>-i

ALTHAM.

iillil

» " You have come here, sir," he said, with
more calmness than was to be expected, ** to'
hear of Mr. Annesley. She loved him, and I
loved them both, as long as I cared for
anything. Lord Altham's gold, ^nd^my love
of drink have for years made a brute of me —
there is the consequence, a» far as my poor^
wife is concerned. As to Mr. Annesley, I may*
still serve him, and I will, to the utmos<i^of
my power. In one thing I have resisted
temptation— my lady thinks I do not recollect
her — I alonfe did until she made herself known:
I was but a boy when she first came,,, to this
accursed place, yet w«U do I rfemember being
present at her wedding, for |^am the oldest
^kmi of the family now reniaining."
' ^ Bushe saw the immense value of the evidence
thus offered so unexpectedly, but he distrusted «.|
the steadiness of a man who had for years
been a habitual debauche ; h^ therefore asj^ed
' coldly and even- sternly^- ' ^

^ •** Can we reljr on you, Weedon?'*

^* I db not wonder that you IKould ask,
M t^ Bushe. B efore this awful nieht jNk could

not ; but now, sir, by lief that is ^^^j^Y-"^

'•\:i

\fy

Ai-THAM.

hopes of her focgiveness, an4?tbat of God-^t>v

h.B last kiss of her eold lipsf I swear never

again to taste spirit, inany form.. They hav«

made me what lUm, or rather have been I
mtfs go^th yon, for here I da.^ not stay,
J feel that, notwithstanding the oaths taken in
yodr presence, I need the snpport %f one who
was by >vhen they were sworn. Beside, Lord
. A tham IS capable of anything, and even my

fewould^Ofbesednreif he found ont thai
I hSd b|eii spepking to you." .. '

-But, W-eedon, #e must go'hpnce to-pight^

■ „„ l!r&^'' \ """"^ '^''*' y"" m^n = but

or MaiyVouJd, if she were ahve. approve Of

\ f "■§ J'"> yo« at once.^Lady AlthA

f have-h.r decently buried., and now, I

the sooner we are gone the bettor. I dare not

ja to, ny lady, but tell her that on account
it" &"^ * '"'ve done-Sut still nio,«
for her l^d„es3 to .fiy wiife/and because of
4W»ae for^her .on~I will do ,11 ll\

I^^r (and itis mo^ than I ha*e had time?^ ^
tell you.) for hjm." . ^ ■ . • ^

-^ my returned to tire hous"e~\Ve;do« oast';

^. »

ALTHAM.

one fond glance on his dead wife, and followed
them. Bushe communicated to Lady Altham
all that Weedon had said ; by her orders the
steward had directed a horse to be brought
round for the coachman. All were ready to
mount, when the steward, who had remained
outside in deference to his lady, entered with
a disturbed countenance.

•" A man, inadam, (whose horse has evidently
been ridden hftrd,) has just arrived, bringing
orders from the agent, that Weedon should be
forthwith sent to town." ^

" And so he shall, Mr. Forester," replied
lady Altham, " but not to Mr. Quill. Make
yonrself easy, my good friend, all will be
right at last."

" God Almighty grant it, lady ; but I fear
that man — his enmity is deadly."

" We shall find means to render him harm-
less ; he has long triumphed both in my

in the old Lord's time, and ^ce his brother
succeeded, but his day of reckMng is at hand."

" i should not despond mffam, seeing you
bear up so stoutly ; but whM am I to do with
this mes se ng er of M fT-Qtftl^V^

>■

s-V

ALTHAM.

" Oh, tell him to stay till morning— that
you know on what business his master wants
Weedon, and that he shaU be iii Galway early
to-morrow; and so he shall, although the
Attorney's office is not his destination."

Our friends, accompanied by Weedon, now .
mounted and galloped across the park, by the
light of a glorious frosty naoon, and a galaxy
of stars, more brilliant than are to be seen in
any other country in the world. Fine, hard,
frosty nights are few in Ireland, but when they
do occur^ihe " suns of distant systems" shed ^"
a more beautiful and gem-like light than m to
be seen elsewhere.

VOL. II.

■i

■ft *

iJ!'!

i !i

i , I!

Chapter VI. '

On their ai-rival, they found Mr. Daly anxiously
awaiting their return! Bushe quickly recounted
the information they had acquired. ,

*' You have been fortunate indeed, far niotc
.80 than we could have hppe'd, B^ishe ; but the
business of the daiy is not yet over- — we must
not trust too much to the continuance o£
Weedon's penitence. I will take his deposition
of alike k«ows of the astounding proceedings
of these Lords of Altham."

" Although I have little fear of his totally
relapsing, I think ycu are very right, sir,"
answered ,Busl;e. " Now he will not hesitate
to tell the whole truth, however it may I
implicate him, whilst at a future time h\
might be inclined that it shojiW appear thatj
les^s guilt lay immediately with him;; and siicbj

•,'«^

>♦

T~"««^'

/■

ALTHAif.

a proceeding' wod4. render his syidence so - '
I open to successM cross-examination, that its
• value might be totally lost in court "
• "Well argued; Bushe," said' Dawkins. '
"We must hav^ Weedon up to-night " " -

In an hour, Wee*^n's testimony, duly signed f

and authenticated, was in their possession It
embraced the fact *f Lady, AJtham's marriage '
bjr.the then Rector.Qf Dunmame • the birth of
a son-his baptism in Dunmaine Church, and #
that Weedon had not lost sight^of the chUd so ' _

bom and, baptised, (except during the short
penod of h« residence with- Bushe,) until he .

bad apprenticed him to Ingram; and^hatwas. ' *
M more important, he completely identified '
IMh QuiU and lord Mham with the abstr*:. '
lt«)n of Annesley, in confirmation of wjiich he

produced » letter from the latter>dbring bhn

•to go to Galway, itnira.ey all QiuU's directions • :

respectmg f he boy. .■ / '

"Oft this deposition ^c might go into"
tonrt. could we but recover j»or Anneiley- ' ■

r f"^'y "•on" « wanting," rcmdSed ■'

Pawkms..-'! think we sho„l.l ..>■■,.. >„.■,:„■

o-moiTow;- «e may count qn tho steward

"«;

I? - ■■*

>-•

ALTHAM.

'• ;, " ' i

and gardener's testimony in corroboration. I
tnought you meant to have questioned them
wnilst at Dunmaine." <*

" I thought it better not afterwards/
particularly is Weedon's evidence -^^ so
much fuller than we anticipated ; and as
moreover, we can get at them at any time,
as Lord Altham has no idea of their being in
our interest." !

Mr. QuiH waited anxiously the next morning I
for Weedon's appearance ; hour after hour
passed, and as he Came not, that anxiety
became so intense thalt the attorney determined
to drive over to Duimaine, and ascertain its
cause. On making enquiry at the entrance,
he learned to his dismay that the coachman
had on the precediifig evening, ridden in the
direction of Galwa^, in company with three
gentlemen who had been for some hoius in
the dom'ain. He Jdrove to the house, hut
found it vacant ; at length he learnt from one
of the labourers thpt the housekeeper was at
Weedon's cottage,! where Mary lay dead.!
This somewhat relieved the attorney, as he|

supposed it possible that in consequence,

ALJIIAM.

oboration. I
jstioned them

Weedon's absence might be .satisfactorily
ax;counted for; he jiurried to the cottagg
where he found lady Altham. Many years
had passed since heTiad seen her ; lie did not
recognise Her,' yet there was something in her
calm, pale face, which-' ^wakened unpleasant
feelings; and he strove to cover them by^
assuming even an unusual degree of rudeness.

" I learn that the coachman's wife is dead

even that should not prevent hisVobeying my
orders— where is the fellow now ? '^

" I cannot exactly say," quietly answered
Lady Altham. " I have not seen him since
last nighti (kfid supposed him to have gone to
town, as I understood tha| he had received
orders so to do from Mr. Quill' ' I suppose I
now speak to that gentleman ? "

"Even so; but if the rascal went to
Galway, he came not to me. I heard at the
I gate, that he left, in company with threes
strange gentlemen, last night. Do you know '
who they were ? "

" Yes, sir; two of them introduced thcm-
I selves as Mr. Bushe and his friend, Mr.

lonsequence,B^"^J^in8> ^rom DubUil. They wished to sec

ALTHAM.

Mary Weedon, on business, as they stated, of
tljie utmost importance. Although the poor
woman was exceedingly ill, I did not like to
refuse telling her of their arrival, and she
prayed sd earnestly to see Mr. Bushe, that I
allowed that gentleman to be shewn into her
room — he continued t^ere for more than an
hour ; and it is probable, that as they were
returning to Galway, Weedon accompanied
them' on the road."

" The attorney had listened- ia^terror — more
than once he was about to interrupt, but
knowing the advantage which is often derived^
from letting one tell a long story, he refrained ;
when, however, Lady Altham had finished, he
let loose the torrent of his fury.

" Did you not know, woman,*, that Lqrd
Altham had given strict orders that no stranger
'should'^ be admitted ^to l)unfliaine? I'll make
you all rue this disobedience. How dared yoii
permit these pebple to temain here, even for
amomeSft?" . ' t, \

^**Toi\ are rude, sir," she calmly replied.
I for one iiever received orders from Lord

Motif dfrthc subject:

'"; fi-^m

J t-

ALTHAM

Mr. Quill was used to exact as great servility
from those whom he considered his inferiors,
as he was wont to pay to those in superior
stations,— he was 'therefore astounded at the
tone of independence assumed by his com-
panion. It cost him an effort to keep up his
arrogant manner — she was a woman — an
unprotected widow, as he supposed, -^o He
succeeded.

" I shall inform ijy lord of your dwings by
this day's post, so you may pack, jip your

\ things." V / . ' . ^ ,.

Lady Aftham could not refrain ^rom a smilv,
at the fellow's insolence, which the attorney
pdl-ceiving, seized his hat,ind mshed fronithe
(^ttage with a curse on hia lips. On his return . *
to Galway, he learned that Weedon had %n I
seen in company xvith young Mr. Daly, and, .
two ethers, entering that gentleman's demesne;
.he felt that the^et which he had. twined "was |p
enmeshing %imself— that .he was falling itito-
the pit which lie hatj di% for othefs /^nd It
was with a foret^di^g |ieart ftjit hesai; down '
to give his principal' an^oceolint of '^
occurrcntes ; imh' Idjd lie fail ^"dvVoil on

•!

ALTHAM.

instrumentality of tjie new hougeketeperT at
Dunmaine, ih bringing about the mischief.
Rancorous malice filled a large portion of his
bad heart-, and though he felt his own situation
to be most aYarmingly perilous, he forgot not
to seek revenge on the poor widow.

He had scarcely despatch'ted his letter, when
a thought struck him on which he highly
felicitated himself. Should he byN^ny means
iUo get Weedon into his ha^ds again,
no doubt that he should be^able to
:elhim to anything he wished, ^t muj
)eeniDn one of Lord Altham's horses that
he came to Galway, and although Quill could
not of his own knowledge be certain of it, he
forthwith repaired to a neighboring ^ justice,
and having lodged an information on oath
against Weedoji lor horse-stealing, procured
a warrant /or his apprehension. Filing an
affidavit is so common an occurrence^ with
attorneys, and so much looked on as a matter
of mere routine, that the respectable brother-
hood seldom trouble themselves further about
truth, than to keep clear of the pillory.
J^iowing4hat^MF.33ia^-, would probably

ALTHAM.

interfere, but thinking that he would be
obhged to commit the accused, he thougl^
the best way was to act boldly, and therefoiif
despatchmg a messenger to Dunmaine to
procure^ the attendance of the steward, he
accompanied the constable to Mr. Daly's.-'

Nothing could exceed that gentleman's
astonishment at learning that the attorney was
m his house, and sought an interview with"
him. He d^^ired him to be shewn into the
steward:s olfice, where he shortly after joined
him, and not conceding his displeasure at his
presence, asked— ^

\;' To what am I to ^tribute your visit, sir? "

M^. Quill did not like the tone in which

the qiW)n wasrput; he feare'd Mr. Daly

well kno^viH^ how su()erior he was in intellect

to the vast m^rity of the booby squires of

Galway; he had^^^erefore been assiduously

servile m his flatteryX county meetings, and

on the bench ; but it^waXin vain— i^fc Daly

entertained the same contem>|lious dislike as

before; nay, the feeling was enh^ced by the

cunningpetty.foggej's nam e appearing in the

«anRr coinmission wJE his dwn^so' deeply""

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•ii'i

ALTHAM.

indeed did he feel the insiilt of such an
appointment, that nothing but his habitual
laziness had prevented his resigning on its
having taken place.

It was therefore with more than usual
lowliness that Mr. Quill explained, that having
obtained a warrant in consequence of a robbery
which had occurred at Dunmaine, and learning
that the delinquent was in Mr. Daly's l^puse,
he had come to request peniiission for the
constable to do his duty. "

" He needs no permission from me or any
one else. I presume the party to whom you
allude is Weedon. May Task what he is
accused of steahng ? "
J " One of Lord Altham's horses, sir. I am
the more concerned, as I find he left the
domain in young Mr. Daly's company."

" Who nmst therefore be an accessary to the
robbery, Mr. Quill. Pray why do you not
obtain a warrant against him also ? '* ''

" I make no such charge, sir," said the
abashed limb of the law. " The young
gentleman was not obliged to know how
-Wc c don ob tj^pri^^Qie h or se fae^rode. "

ALTHAM.

" 'l^s well, sir; I will assist in investigating
the charge." "xj, ° »

To thi3 Mr. QniU had nothing to object^
he knew Mr. Daly> dislike to magisterial
business, tmd scarcely supposed that he would >
have made Weedon's case an .exception ; he
therefore said— -r <-

V'-rhe warrant directs that the prisoner
shaU be brought up for examination to-morrow
when we shall be most happy to have yon,!
assistance."

" I cannot consent, Mr. Quill, that a man
whom I consider innocent shall pass the
night in gaol. I will, before, on my own
responsibility, hold him to bail."

Defeated on every point, Mr. QuiU became
exasperated.-" You will do as you think best.
SIT; but the responsibility will be heavy if the
culprit escapes."

" Pray, do not annoy yourself about that

„^ Mr. Quill," replied Mr. Daly, ^vith a contemp-'

tuous smile. " I x^ally enjoy your having

once outwitted yom^elf ; depend upon it, the

^^nt, as you call him, shaU be forthcoming

^mw\ have so moretime to waste on youT

ALTHAM.

1 1 '

I will satisfy the constable, and td-raorrow
shall meet you and my brother magistrates at
the ^ourt-house, at noon, when you will be
gbodtpnough to have your witnessed in
attendance/'

-Burning \vith passion, Mr. Quill returned
home. An liom- afterwards, Mr. Forrester, the
Dunmaine steward, was ushered into his office.
" JIow came you, Forrester, when I syas at
Dunmaine to-day, not to let me know that
Weedon hfid carried off one of Lord Altham's

horses?". ' ... .^

"God bless me, sir!— your ^^m/j^^
ordered him to come into Galway, ,wilr all
haste, and as none of his lordship's c^ltle were,
at hand, I had njy own saddlQ^ for him."

Mr. Quill was in a/<r, and, he felt himself
to be so ; the steward's account acquitted
Weedon, and although it was an equivocation,
was certainly a perfectly fair X)ne. The
attorney now turned his attention to making
good his retreat, as well as he could, from his
very unpleasant situation,; after thinking a
few minutes, he said —
- ^< ^fai8 entirely alters tliequestioBr

-- -■4'*^.

'■la

ALTHAM.

9;3

I knew not that he had your authority for
bringing away the horse."

" And if he had not," replied his blunt
subaltern, "surely, sir, your orders woul(^
have justified him in riding any of my lord's
horses." *

* " Yes, if he had obeyed them, which be has
not. All is right however — ^you may return.
'You -will dblige me by seeing that no more
strangers trespass on Lord Altham's domain —
I am very much displeased, tlffit . Ills' orders
were^^tally disregarded yesterday."

" I fancy you are," thought the steward,
" and would be more so if you kneV all ; "
but he only said, " it was not ,my fault,
sir;" and, as he had been directed, took his
departure. <

Mr. Quill seldom acted without dehberation.
The desire of getting Weedon into his hands,
even for a few hours, had hurried him into
bringing ah accusation, which he could not
substantiate, against the coachman; it was
now difficult to withdraw it — paying a due
regard to appearances, which at present he

law great need of keeping up : the residt of

(J4

lALTHAM.

half an hour's consideration was the following
letter to Mr. Daly :—

" Dear Sir,

" I am happy, at the earhest moment, to,
inform yoii that my charge against Weedoni
arose from misapprehension : as I now lean^
from Lord Altham's steward, that he authorizecj
him to take the horse from l)unmaine, whic^
he rode last night,
accusation.

I therefore withdraw my

" I have, &c.,

H. Quill."

'I'
Mr. Daly and his young friends wefre

amusing themselves by anticipating Quill's

appearance on the morrow, for which Dawkjns

and Bushe had determined to wait, wheiji a

servant handed in Mr. Quill's note,— ion

reading which, the old gehtleman said — | .

"The fellow finds himself caught in ! his

own trap — it would be glorious fun to se^ his

^Ihiggles to get out ; nevertheless, boys, (the

inteUigence you have obtained is of ^uch

, importance, that as Quill's note frees Weeldon,

I think yoir^iad better start to-night, t^ing

.r-

ALTHAM.

him with you to town, as you originally
intended,— meanwliQe, doubt riot I shall have
my eyes open."

;l hope yet, Mr. Daly, to hear poor
Annesley thank you with his own lips, for the
assistance you have given us," said Bushe.
" One request further, I have to make, which
is, that should any attack be made on Lady
Altham, you will protect her."

" I shall ride over to-morrow to pay mv
respects. I well remember how^ deeply I
sympathized with her, poor womLn) on the
day I had the misfoi^M to spend at
Dunmaine— although ll^onlj?^saw her pale,
sorrowful face for half an\hour"before dinner,'
in tl^e drawing room ; for^^ course, she never
mingled with the herd AVhici wallowed in her
husband's epicurean stye. I^e coach starts
at eight— so you had better gpt ready. I
shaU always be glad to see -yol here, Mr!
Bushe, — I need not say so to yoil, Henry."

In a few minutes the servants had packed
their luggage, and after a stay of not exceeding
.forty-eight hours, Bushe and his frien d were_

again jolting away towards the Metrc^oHa,

•

Nil

j*i

iil

;>"!

II 'if

Chapter VII.

: /

" Kara avis in terris." i

. I'

We have known parsons, who did not in every
respect practise exactly as they preached —
physicians, who were thought in some few
instances, by their treatment, not to have
contributed to the longevity of our species— ^
soldiers, whose valour was very probl^atical—
but we have met with only one attonit^, who
Fas generally suspected of honesty. It was,
therefore, that we every moment expected the
usual characteristic of his brotherhood to break,
through what we supposed to be a veil of
honor, worn by Mr. Bawkins* solicitor, whilst
we perused the authentic documents! from
which we cull our present |ale — ^but we may
^t once tell you, reader, tH«t we were most

ALTHAM.

agreeably disappointed. He really seewa to
have been a man who took pleasure in assisting
with his deep legal lore the oppressed, and
rending from the oppressor that which belonged
not to him. When a story-teUer gets hold of
a rare character, he loves to dwell on it —and
such was the case with the writer of the
chronicles above referred to, with respect to
Mr. Torrens, to whom- Hany Dawkins intro-
duced Bushe, with his father's directions, that
such steps as the attorney defied ' needful
should at once be taken, at his expense The
solicitor's outward man corresponded with the
character which he bore ; his gre} hair was
brushed back from a broad ancj mas'sive
forehead, confined behind in a club tye (then
much in vogue,) and profusely powdered and' '
perfumed. His eye, which was clear and
Isearchmg, always met your's with a kind, yet
■Hiart reading glance. His features were
loman-the well defined lips shewing no
™t of energy-a romid and slightly doubled
hm reposed on a spotless cravat, terminated
'" richly laced comers. His necessarily

apMions waistcoat re^hed nearly fo thehij;

ALTHAM.

^nd was, as wfell as his coat, of much the same
fashion as those worn at court in the present
day. Dark knee-breeches, and silk stockings,
with high shoes, and broad jewelled buckles,^
completed his costume.

He hstened patiently, and even with interest,
to Bushe's narration of Annesley's history;
and having read Weedon's deposition, said—

" This is exactly the sort of case that suits
me. At once you may tell your father, Mr.
Dawkins, that I take it upon my own respon-
sibility ; it were most unfair, thaj if it fell to
the groun^TaslFinust, if the young gentleman
does not turn up, /le should be the. loser;
whilst should we succeed, I shall reap a ricli
harvest. By the way, Mr. Henry, how soon
shall you be called?" "Next term, Mr.
Torrens."

. « Ygj,y ^yrgU^ I retain you, should this case
come on — remember, that you must not take
a fee from the other side."

" Not much fear of it being offered, sir, 1 1
should fancy; nothing would give me more
pleasure than to open my career at the bar, on
ypung Annesley^s bejiaJlL!!

■\.

ALTHAM.

99 -

"And so you shall, sir, please the fates
We must try and have this Ingram. It will
be difficult certainly, yet ere a year empires I
will know Mr.- Annesley's whereabout if he
'be over ground-and that once ascertained
all will be plain sailing ; meanwhile, I shall
not wait for it, to commence proceedings
The best course to be adopted is, to bring an
action of ejectment in his name, against some
lessee of this precious unde. This is an
india-rubber process which we can stretch
from term to term, on the » evidence which we
have; and at the worst the expenses will be ^
l)ut slight, whilst we shall have the advantage
of putting the testimony which we can How
command on record. I wijl, forthigk serve
1 notices of the action on Lord Altfc, and
jone of his principal tenants-we shall see with
what effect. As regards Lady Altham, I think .
It were weU- if she at once assumed her proper
standing, as her continuing her present
disguise might in some de^ee compromise
bo^h her and her son." ^

'Uly father would, I am sure, be glad to ast_^

\^h spend some time witR us," said Dawkins.

-■'/*■• ^.

'Viv:

100

ALTHAM.

" Nothing could be bettcf;^,—^he is tlio jiulgc
of the pretensions of parties wishihg to appear
at court. If he be satisfied of heir right, it
wjould be most advantageous th^t she should
be presented."

" Of course, sir, in that he must be very
cautious ; but I thiilk+^on the evidence of
We«don, and Mr. Daly, ne cannot hesitate." '

" You say that Mr. Daly knewjier as the
recognised Lady Altham, when | he visited
Dunmaine."

" Aye, sir ; — moreover, as she and her
husband lived in Dublin together, for some
time after their reunion, no doubt, considering
the sphere they moved ih, other evidence cSif
be procured of that fact." _

" That is exactly in my line — leave it to
me ; and now lads, T have spent half an hour
which dia not belong to me, wjth you- — leaving j
my brethren learned in the law to imagine
that I have an apoplectic fit, or some such
reasoii to assign, for not being at consultation I
at half-past two, whilst yon clock has just
.8trick(i^ three." Punctuality is my forte, and
-feally 3'ou have to answer for a good deal, in

" -M

{

ALTIIAM.

101

;n -the visited

thus interesting me so (leeplj^Nfor Master
JjminyAnhesley. Dou't forget- to lookXord
Altham in the face, should yoi^ ^ei him
to-morrow, a^d J 'promgc, that you shaU^see a
legal bhsfer rising famously." -" /;,

" Torrens is by ne means popular with
those of ^ his profession generaUy," said
Dawkins, ^ the friends strolled homeward— ^
" he does not stand on etiquette, and although
he has made a large fortune at his buSiness,
nature intended Mm for anything but an
attorney." "*.

** I differ from you, Harry/^ rejoinefl his ^
companion. « It^geds but some dozen men
of character such as his/to monopohze the
whole business of the kingdom, and how
differently would things be conducted ; "a
I client would be told at once that his case was
hopeless, or if it were just, it would be>rought
to an end in a short period ; whilst at present
our terriers, play into each other's' hands'
It 18 really too hai^, Dawkins, that a suit at
law, however just, should be drea4d as the
,very worst, ill which can befal ^ man As it

it, the 'comraencer rarely h'ves to

102

ALTHAM.

see the issue. Surely, under our vaunted
constitution, this need not be the case. —
Would it not be well to make an attorney,
undertaking a suit, forfeit a portion of the
costs, in case of its failure — surely he ought
to know whether he should succeed or not."

" You forget how clients colour their own
cases ; a man should be omniscient to discover
from an ew parte statement, where truth lay."

" There is something in what you say ;
nevertheless, I fancy that a shrewd attorney
could easily elicit the truth, to such a degree
at least, as to guide him in undertaking or
refusing a suit, were such made the terms.
Now, win or lose, if the client be responsible,
he must be paid ; whereas, were he shackled
with a due proportion of the loss incurred,
nine-tenths of the cases now occurring would
never be undertaken. There would, of course,
be less work for us, but I should enter the
profession with a lighter heart — I fear 1
shall never be able to take a rogue's part,
csin amore."

" You 'know, dear Bushe, that one of the

first precepts of om* law, is, tliat no man is

ALTHAM.

103

that one of the
that no mail is

guUty until he has been proved so ; our duty,
therefore, is, to pu^ the most charitable
construction on the acts of our cHents. When
evidence even makes them appear to be in the
wrong, it is stiU our duty to make the best
fight we can, as we know how it is ^n
falsified ;— for the rest, no better mode cS^e
devised, to find out truth, than two parties
of educated men taking Opposite sides, on the
discussion of any given question."

" No doubt, what you say, is correct ; but
how should you feel, Harry, had you to go into
court, as an advocate for this Lord Altham."

" Most likely I should make a fair fight of
It, as of course I should take the contents of
my brief, as the facts of the case ; we are not,
thank God, the father confessors of the
irapHcated parties, as the attornies are, or
ought to be. They furnish us with a^rtions,
true or false, as the event may prove ; and our
only duty is to elucidate truth, by endeavouring
on either hand, to prove the correctness o^^he
data given us." \

" It is dangerous, nevertheless— i^q lawy^f ^
can feel as a neutral." ^^

/'I

104 ,

" Nor is it needed t^at he should ; were it

so, human nature were Unequal to the task.

The jury and the judge are the arbiters.

That truth should be ehcited, it is necessary

that causes should be argued on either side,

by those who give up their whole energies to

prove the premises which they advocate tnie,

even should they at first desire the triumph of j

their opponents. Under these circumstances,

were I a lawyer, I should feel no difficulty in

taking a brief even from Lord Altham, and

doing my utmost to defeat Annesley, fori

should not doubt, that he would enhst equal I

attainments on his side. Are you at this

moment, positively sure, that he is in the

right ? "

" I am."

" Now, I only think him so. It is possible I
that Weedon's tale, as regarded Lord Altham's
marriage, may be false, arising from ill will to
his employer; or, that he may otUy hAve
supposed the party, who officiated at thel
ceremony, to have been the B^ctor o[|
Dunmaine. A thousand and one possibilitit

may occur,^o render what we take for grante

.rl

ALTHAM.

105

iliould ; were it
lal to the task.
e the arbiters,
it is necessary
on either side,
hole energies to
f advocate true,
5 the triumph of
B circumstances,
no difficulty in
rd Altham, and
Annesley, for I
)uld enlist equal I
.re you at this
at he is in the

3. It is possible
id Lord Altham's
ig from ill will to

may only h6ve|
officiated at thel

the Rector o(|
I one poasibiliik

untrue ; and you would deny the opportunity
Qf truth being arrived at, by a fair trial, if you
succeeded in persuading our profession, that
It were dishonorable to espouse a doubtful
cause.**

" I^ only speak of one, which we know to
be unjust.'*

" ^Vhere will you find such an one, if you
allow the possibility of our being in error in
this — depend on it, that faulty as our
institutions may appear at first glance, it is
hard, in a country where titles depend on a
succession of a thousand years, to better them ;
at aU events, neither you or I shall be
legislators for some time to come, and it will
be time enougb for us then to bother our
heads about legal reform. Still, it is to be
wished, that the ChanceUor more frequently
punished roguish attomies. The law is
sufficiently stringent, and gives him ample
power, but the rascals contrive to screen
themselves in some way or other. Never
mind, when you or I arrive at the woolsack,
they may look out.**

take lor grantedB m. DawHns at once consented to write an

FT I

|r '

B I '

iri

B* i(

106

AJ.THAM.

invitation to Lady Altham, offering to send his
son, to be h^r ladyship's escort to the capital.
A week brought a grateful acceptance, and
Henry started the next morning, for Galway.
A few days after his departure, the old
gentleman wended his way to Bushe's college
chambers, to which, the apphcation rendered
necessary by his being now thrown entirely
on his own resources, confined our friend
pretty closely. He had sought, and with Mr.

r Dawkins' recommendafion obtained a sufficient
number of pupils, to enable him to meet his
shght expenses. Mr. Dawkins had, indeed,
offered him funds, but Bushe was too inde-
pendent a fellow, to owe to another what his

' own exertions could procure ; nor did his
friend press the offer, as he well knew that
the student was right. He found him busily
employed in his vocation — and as Bushe rose
to receive him, he said —

" I was not aware, Amos, that you had any
friends in the West Indies — here is a letter
for you, which strangely enough is addressed
to my care."

feroke^^he s^, and gkitced a^ihr

ALTHAM.

107

latMjcd a^ th?

signature. " Plurra ! sir,-frotn Annesley -
Dismissing his pupils, he read aloud his .
protege's narrative of his adventures, up to his
arrival in Jamaica, and receiving a midship. -
man's rating in the" " Shannon." « Now
sir," he ^aid, on concluding, " Mr. Torrens ,
will have it all his own way, as (although no
doubt with a very different meaning from that
which it will bear,) the poor fellow says here,
" Mr. Quill is your uncle, and therefore my
dear Bushe, I will be entirely guided by you—
m fact, act for me as you choose. I feel no
anger,— all has turned out for the best"
Again, "Letters addressed to the care of
Captain Brooke, at Hahfax, will always reach "
" What delightful news for the Countess, on
her arrival."

" I will walk with you as far as Torrens' '
office-he will be in high feather at this news
He teUs me, that Lord Altham is already
dreadfully frightened-that he had come to
him, and actually hinted at a compromise
which he mdignantly refused. Now, aU must
bo right -for I agree with you, that in
^ASncsIefsTetter you have ftill authority to ^^

108

ALTHAM.

I '

represent him. At all events j the Chancellor
will be his guardian; and /now, that his
existence is proved, will at olice take up his

cause.

We will not dwell on Ifhe glee of old
Torrens, or on the joy whifch brightened a
face long faded from sorrowj when the happy
situation of her beloved boy \f as communicated
to Lady Altham. Luckily We can cross the

ocean — *

" Swifter than the moonjbs sphere."

for ]the thread of our tale requires our presence
at HaUfax.

a 1

/ •

s oiir presence

Chapter VIII.

" Now does mW project gather lo a head,
My charms irack not, my spirits obey, and time
Goes uprigh t with his carriage."

On receiving oj-ders to proceed to the seat of
war in Uppei- J Canada, General Brock had
gladly availedh ms^lf of Sir John Sherbrooke's
invitation to entjrust his daughters to his cdre :
much as the young ladies wished to accompany
him, and earnkly as they prayed him to
allow It, Sir Isaic had been resolute, and Miss
Sherbrooke becW their hostess. Hitherto,
their father's career had been one of unvaried
success ; and le ters had just been received

announcing the
Detroit; beaten

defeat of General Hull, at
on every point, but more
especially in Caifada, (which with their usual
arrogance, they fiad supposed an easy prey)
the Americanj^ jelt^dispos ed for p eac^, and

anticipating an

early meeting with their

110

ALTHAM.

friends, the party at the Governor's were in
unusual Sspirits.

Captain Brooke and Annesley had found
a most cordial welcome there, when the
Shannon was in port. Sir John had, indeed,
requested the latter to consider Government
House his home, whenever duty permitted
absence frotn his ship. The Shannon's arrival
had been reported, and our hero was the more
anxiously looked for, as many letters were
awaiting him — one bearing the well known
superscription and seal o^ Mountmorris ; nor
had they long to wait, as half '^an hour after
the frigate came to, he was announced. >.^

" You will be glad to hear from your friends
in Ireland, Mr. Annesley," said Isabella, as she
presented him his letters. Amongst these is one
from Mountmorris, which bears a later date than
any we have received — ^may we hope you will
let us hear any news it may contain of Papa."

" Most certainly, and of my cousin too,"
he replied, glancing archly at Alice.

The elder sister coloured, but replied calmly :
" Indeed we shall be most happy to hear of
ttm, Mr. Annesley.^

.*»

'»

ALTHAM.

Ill

nors were in

" W(ai; ladies, you shall have the contente
of my despatches, if Miss Sherbrooke will
permit me."

" Of course ; use no ceremony here Mr
Annesley.-My authority to dictate to you I
have long relinquished," answered their young
hostess, with a something, which a young man
more given to vanity than Jemmy might have
miagined approaching to a sigh ; but he heard
It not, for he was ah-eady deeply and painfully
engrossed with his cousin's letter.— We shall
copy it, as it serves the purpose of a chorus-
It will be remembered, that six months have
elapsed since they had last parted.

Hedd Quarters, Niagara.
My dear Annesley,

Nothing save a sense of duty could induce
me to reveal to mortal, the most painful
matters which I am now about to communicate.
Your narrative of events, from the time when
we parted in Dublin, up to our meeting at
Hahfax,together with antecedent circumstances
led me to entertain doubts as to my father'^,
TTght fo the titles and estates- of our family.

112

ALTHAM.

■ i

I at once wrote to him, requesting a full

^^planation of every thing connectec} with you,

^nd giving him' a detail of your later history.

The last post brought nib my father's ans\^er.

I cannot tell you the anguish with whicli I

read it ; he did not Ibffer one ^ord in

•extenuation of his treatment of you, but dwelt

much on unexpected proofs of your rio-hts

coming to hght,— which, he saysj even thos^J

long since Supposed dead, reappear to verify.

You have professed friendship for me, James ;

and Sir Isaac Brock, (for circumstanced as I

have been in his family, I thought it right to

tell him all,) has informed me how nobly you

have proved' the sincerity of that profession.

Heaven pardon me, if I seek to take an unfair

advantage of your generous nature ; but

judging of you by myself, J trust I do not ask

you too much, when d prayi you to spare my

father's grey hairs; — remember, he is ^(^ur

father's brother; and, however ill he has^

treated you,— for your father's sake — for my

sake — spare him. I renounce all claims to

succeed him; he is old,^nd in all human

— ?bability, a few years will put you In your

Ai.THAM. ' ""-S-j^ 11^

true situation, as head of oiu^ family ; mean-
while, any amount of money you may need
IS at your disposal, for my father leaves "any
pecuniary settlement I may think fitting to mv
discretion." HoWbitterly I felt, whUst writing
the last few words ! , ff I know myself or you
how hghtly do such things ws^vith either of
m. What I ask, ^, as a personal kindness to
a distracted son, whom you hftve caUed your
fnend-nevertheless, of course, you should
avail yourself t>f your own funds, whenever
necessaiy-as to myself, my pay lis more than
sufficient for my wants; I hate placed a"
remittance of £1000, which my father's letter
contained, to your credit, in the Montreal
Bank; to m^ it is useless, eieix were it
legitimately mine. I know not, whether you
a«! aware, that hy the death .of our uncle,
Wd Annesley, an English Earldom is also
yours, and that vast estates have accrued,
whdst ail around are heaping congratuhtions
upon me-Oh, how unutterably miserable I
feel! My father says, he has been guided in
theWom^e he has pursued towards you by , ,„
new to my advantage alone-alas! ala, i how

'I '

•""

k.'

114

AtTHAJf.

;^vi

1.T'

little do they,, who seek this world's advance-
ment, by any but an upright course, know the
misery they are preparing for themselves, and
for those they love — thosp, perhaps, for whose
sakes, more than for their own, they wete
ambitioils. A few more lines and I am done —
you know, at least you mjust have gfftessed, how
matters stood between Miss Brock and me—
this must end — ^her name must not be linked
to one dishonored as mine 4ias been — tell her
all— it is perhaps thft,^last act of friendship I
shall ask of you ; InSave acquainted her father
with this sad business, in order to explain my
re^ons for wishing to leave his staff, and seeking
his interest to obtain an appointment in India.

The General has refused, point blank, to J
suffer me to leave him, and expressed ) the
kindest symp&thy in nay for^^^Gs ;^^^ys,
moreover, that at ||tesent I could.
Canada, without subjecting myself WFfW&are^
^ India is in a state of profound peace. Pray
J^eaven, some chance ball may set my weaiy
J— wiite to me.

Your Cousin Edward.

'ousin -Ed WARD.

ALTHAM. ^ iig

7 \'ff&Wr^ '""'.q"'''e"'>g lip. as he
T *»' tkm. alarmed the anxious girls
•lO^tfTanifers safety. - •»,

^ur father, Annesley, what of him?"
burst sunultaHeously from both. / „

"He is well, thank God, quite well, "but
alas, there is much of pain to ui Ml i„ Edward's
letter. I am..„ot at liberty to cbmmunicate
Its contents to any, save to you Miss Brock
the secret hot being my own." '

Isabella was piqued, but instantly rose with
JIiss Sherbrooke to leave the room. Anneslev
perceived the feeling, and, taking her hand
said, m a tone audible to her alone, " nay
dearest, do not add the weight of your dis '
pleasure, to a heart ab^ady overloaded ;" the
softha^d w^ch he held was allowed to remain
a ilpKnt m his— their ^yes met, and aU was
peace again.

When A«ce and Annesley were' alone
an embamssed silence for some moments
ensued ; the young hdy fi„t found courage
to break it. - ■ ^ .

"Tell me the worat, James^I can bear

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any thing more easily than this cruel suspense.
What news of Edward, I feel that your tidings
relate to him ?"

" They do indeed. I have long been aware,
of what has now come to his knowledge for
the first time. I had hoped that it never,
would have reached him — God help him to
bear up against it, for it is indeed a sore trial ;
his letter tails it fully, — I will read it for you."
When he had done so, he continued, " Now,
Miss Brock, what is your opinion.*'

" That hitherto you have acted most nobly j
^and that you will continue to spare Edward's
father, for his sake. — ^You may tell him," she
continued, with moistened eyes and heightened
colour, " that Alice Brock now considers a
prohibition which he once laid on her removed,
as she knows all, and that in good fortune or
in ill she is only his."

" You have rightly judged my intentions,
Miss Brock ; I had determined long since to
act to Edward's father as you supposed I
should ; God forbid that I should add a pang
tp what my cousin feels#nor did I anticipate a
different course on your part, from that you

ALTHAM.

117

have now avowed. Write to him, dear lady
you can better console him than any one else
living. His is a noble nature, and he must
deeply feel his father's guilt^lt is for us to
alleviate his grief as much as p6ssible. While
you write, I will, with your permission, look
through my other letters."

With the contents of that from Bushe, the
reader is already acquainted. Annesley for the
first time learned poor Mary's death ; but the
grief occasioned thereby, was absorbed in the
joy with which he heard, that his^ mother still
hved, and was occupying her natural position
in society.

Alice witnessed his emotion, but did not
choose to interrupt him ; when he had finished
reading and looked up he found her eyes fixed
on him.

"No more ill ne\va, I trust," she said.

"The contrary, as regards myself; biit now
indeed, I know not how <» act, and need the
advice of those, who can coolly consider the
position in which I am placed. My poor
mother is alive, and ier honour mnnf Ka r^\ i

beyond suspicion, happen what ,may ; most

118

ALTHAM.

t 1

'(..

■is.

unexpected evide^ice, independent of her's has
turned up, and, no dbubt, Mr. Bushe has
ere this availed himself of it ; painful as it is,
for Edward's sake, matters must, I feel, take
their course."

" It must, indeed be so, James. May God
enable Edward to bear his bitter lot ; how
lightly would loss of fortune weigh with him,
if it did not proceed from so dishonoring a
cause. Were he here, he could not ask you to
do otherwise, than assert to the uttermost your
mother's rights."

" As regards fortune, it need not be felt by
him. ' The Annesley estates are princely, and
being English, the proceedings forced on my
mother's account in Ireland, need not affect
his title there. *- In fact, publicity may still 1
hope be avoided in a great degree, by a
compi*omise. I shall write to Bushe, to request
him to propose this to Lord Annesley, and
with the proofs i0 my possession, together
with the evidence they ahready have, I should
think my uncle will be glad to come to terms.
I have still another letter to read, but as I

know^ it is from my poor mother, (of whom

ALTHAM.

119

my recollections are so few, yet for whom -I
feel a reverence and affection that is scarfcely ^
to be accounted for,) I must be alone. Will
you, Mis^ Alice, write to Edward— tell him all
I feel, at being compelled to measures which
^"^^ ^painful to me as to hifn. We shall
,m^t >t pinner." Annesley shut liimself up
in hi§ room, and read as follows, his eyes often
dimmed with tears.

;her, (of whom W will not

Dublin, April 6, 18—.
My dearest Son,

I will not attempt to describe my feelings,
on, for tlie first time, writing to my beloved
boy,— now my only relation. Oh ! may it
please the great Being, who has in his wisdom
allotted me so much of sorrow, to allow us to
meet onjje more. I am almost delirious, when
I think jthat I shaU be so blessed. They tell
me, thaj you cannot with honour leave the
service before the termination of the war; and
I know, that I should vainly pray o^ of\our
shun, danger^ aU Iask,i8,^^at_

I know,
Bame to

rashly seek it ^remember, that in

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120

ALTHAM.

• /

yoirf life mine is bqund up. What is honor ?
And yet, I cannot but reflect, that to my want
of mwal courage, to bear the sneers of the
world, much of your misfortune is owing.
Had I dared, (conscious as I was, that even if
my marriage had been a feigned one, no real
guilt was mine,) to remain in Ireland, how
many days of sorrow might I have spai^ed you,
or at least how much of pain might I have
alleviated, by sharing it with you. I was
almost, if not entirely mad, when I fled to
France, to bury my shame from the world's
eyes, and as I vainly hoped even from my own,
in the gloom of a convent. Heaven prevented
my so doing. On recovering from a fever,
which brought me to the verge of the grave,
my medical attendants recommended my
native air; some kind friends advised my
compliance ; — ^life I valued not, but a longing
once more to behold you, before I died,
induced me to revisit Ireland. I hoped to find
you at Dunjnaine, and not being recognised
by the people of the place, I procured the
a ppointmen t of a serv ant, in the h ouse which

had oute been my own. — There I had the

(-* ' •

ALTHAM.

121

satisfaction of soothing the last hours of my
poor faithful Maiy. I will not enter on scenes,
which, no doubt, your generous friend Mr
Bushe, has communicated fully. Heaven has
cleared up all doubt of your right to the titles
and estates of your ancestors. For your sake
I have again appeared in the petty world of
our vice-regal court. I long to see you assume
your place amongst ^'e highest of the land •
but oh ! how much more fondly do I pinefo^
he hour, when I shall phss to my heart my
long lost boy. I have wept happy tears, at the
description of your brief acquaintance with
your Bubim friends. Over and over, I have
led Mr. Bushe to describe your first casual
meeting, and the subsequent events, when
your noble conduct won his regard. So
deeply are these scenes impressed on my mind
tta I seem to have be«n present at them.'
W th what avidity did I read your letter to
Mr. Bushe? Heaven, which has preserved
you through so many dangers, will, in it, own
good time, restore you to my longing ^3
H^ten my darling boy^when ^peS^

hasten home; life to all is uncertain^JdTii'

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122

ALTHAM.

is most so ;-T^sorrow and suffering have broken
a constitution never strong. Should I but live
to see you— to hear your voice— to told you to
my heart — I shall die content.

Ever your fondest mother,

Mary Altham.

How fondly Annesley dwelt on each expres-
sion of hi^ poor mother's affection : he had
never experienced, except in Edward's case
kindness^rom a relative, ^d each word which
he read, awakened feehngs new and^most
dehghtful. He still sat with the letter spread
before him, when the- first dinner bell rang ;
then, bathing his eyes and hastily arranging
his toilet, he descended to the drawing room,
and found his Captain the only guest, pinner
had been some moments announced before their
host appearijd, a most unusual circumstance
with one whose habits w»e regularity itself.
Sir John apologised, by stating that he had
some important despatches to answer. On the
parties being seated, he said to the sisters-
"1 f ear, ynpng ladies,^ I must pl ace yon

under Mary^ guardiaiiship for a few months,

ALTIfAM.

123

"When do
Sherbrooke.

as the Governor General has desired my
presence in jiontreal, and 1 must M once
proceed thither to take the command driring
his absence in the West." \

^^ go, Papa?" asked Miss

^e dont go at aU, young lady,
you wiU rema n here and entertain your
friends. . '^

" ^*y '"•' yA inust,not,leaye your daughter
on cm- accomit, ir we also ardently long to go
to Canada-to h^ at least somewhat nearer my
dear father," ansjwered Alice.

" But jouJ ladies, the thing is utterly
impossible; the route which 1 shaU follow is
only practicable fn horseback ora-foot- I'do
not bfeheve a ladkr has ever passed it, It any
se^a of the W and now the mud is
unfathomable."

• " ^"' the passage by sea is still open. Papa •
and one of the ofkcers' ladies who caUed here
tli.8 morning, tolji me. that their regiment is
under orders to ejnbark at once for Canada.-
^ow dearest father, do not refuse to aUow us
tolollowyou/*

"Your infonniition is correct, Mary; but

«*;.:('

124

I had rather not risW your capture on the
high seas. I fancy, a 'Sojourn amongst the i
Americans, would be scarcely agreeable."

" N'o danger of that, sir," said Captain
Brooke ; " I am ordered to afford convoy to
the transport, as far as the entrance of the
gulf of St. Lawrence, and from thence up
they can have nothing to fear from the enemy.
The young ladies will, if you permit it, be my
guests as long as we are in company. I am
to send some volunteers from my ship, for
service on the lakes, as the war may be said to
be at an end on the ocean."

" Come, Papa, what have you to say now?"
asked Mary. '

" That, as usual, you have your own way,
my daughter ; I have spoiled you always, and
'tis too late to amend it now."

"I should but little enjoy my victory, if I
thought you were displeased. Papa ; but
I know you only jest — -do say so, sir, and let
us part in peace."

" You w^ know, my Mary, that you haye
never given me cause to be angry with you in
your life.^

ALTHAM.

125

Mary's cheek flushed' vvfth a dehghtful
consciousness, that her father spoke but the
truth ; and with the happiness of receiving his
well merited praise, left the room.

Annesley had been no uninterested .listener
to the foregoing conversation ; he longed for
a personal interview with his cousin; and a
feeling, which he now dared to own to himself
led him to seek to perpetuate his intercourse'
with Isabella Brock. When they left the
room, he communicated to his commander the
events of the day, and requested his permission
to accompany the volunteers for Lake service.
"Personal considerations apart, I should
have wished you to do so," repHed Captain
Brooke, <' as there alone you can hope an
opportunity of further distinc^^pn; I am there-
fore glad you have determined on going to
Canada, whilst I am dehghted that your future
prospects are so brilliant. I cannot but regret
ihat the service is likely to lose you, for of
^urse at the termination of the war you will
quit it.**

^Of that j am by no means certain, sir, the^ .
ninyoJ^rs a glorious career, and in fact I ^

120

ALTHAM.

'f'>U

prefer it to any life on shore, — ^but I shall have
time enough to make up my mind, — beheve
me, I shall always gratefully remember yojir
kindness wherever my lot is cast." . *;

t ■■'

Ghapter IX.

" Look how the floor of Heaven
Is thip^ inlaid with patines of bright gold ;
There s not the smallest orb which thou beholdst,
But in h,s motion, like an angel sing,,.
St.ll quiring, to the young eyed cherubins,-
buQb harmony is in immortal souls."

Mbrchant of Vinick.

Reader are you tired of sea-going ? If so
you may skip the following chapter, as it^
events do not materially forward the thread of
our napative. We love old Neptune well
and^ur spirits are light when we "bound over
his Mowy breast." It gave us pleasure to
dwell on the long details with which our
materials furnished us; we even enjoyed
accom^anymg the ladies on,bbard the Shannon
and the getting under way of the stately vessel
and the liuabering lobster-box which she had
»nder her protecti on. We li ked the vivid
desrtptiohffiere furnished us of the noWest"

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128

ALTHAM.

harbour in the world,^ with its lofty forest-
-crowned shores and islet guarded entrance.

For the first thirty hours the ships made
But little way, the wind barely allowing them
to lay their course, and the dull old transport
scarcely being able to move on a bowline.
The frigate was half the time hove to, with her
main-top, ^ail- to the mast, although she was
only carrying her J^opsails, jib, and spanker,
whilst her consort wore every rag which would
draw. Nothing is more chafing to the temper,
than sucli an enforced companionship, — 'tis
hard to say which party feels it most — Captain
Brooke even champed the bit, notwithstanding
the pleasure which he derived from the presence
of his fair guests.

On the second evening of the voyage,
Annesley, who had -dined with his captain, and
had lingered in Isabella's society until the
latest instant possible, returned, a moment
after he had taken leave, to request the ladies
presence on deck for a few moments. The
scene which presented itself to them was such,
as, once beheld, imprints itself so vividly on the
Tmaf inaliotit that it c¥n duniigT;!^^

ALTHAM.

129

.of life be called up without the loss of the
most trifling feature or tint.- Cape EnfutoJ
nused Its giant eliff to heaven, at a distance of
waive or thirteen mUes; but so vast is its
teight, that to the inexperienced eye, it seemed
(13 though the ship were within its very shadow.

•• The mooo, like to a silver bow »

New bent in heaven "

I was about to set behind the Alpine cape, but
so bnl liantly shone the glorious stars, thatter
feebk light would scarcely be missed, .were it
not for the gUttering radiance with which she .
I reBected

•• Her Mlver image in the watery glaM." "

JLight fleecy clouds shewed here and there
|sliading the sethereal vault, and • '

" Flying lietween the eold moon and the earth."

The ladies were entranced with the witchine
h-"! even the old transport shewed to
Wvantage by that soft light; the ugliness of ^
to hull, and the false proportions of her
Nfe emmble were shaded away, whilst her -

y "^ ""'^'»' -^ the glq gingflf th^irea. „_
isr tnev wpta oo«/»*.« j u.. t i , «. , ^

^mey^ were severed by her blufi" bows, and

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130

ALTHAM.

seemed to dance for joy when reunited in her
wake, enhanced the beauty of that night
picture. Along the frigate's side, the billows
flashed with a brilliance seldom to be seen so
far north, and her wake was an ever changing
..stream of liquid light— a milky way of radiant
stars. In shore, half buried by the dark
' shadow of the cape, a coasting schooner was
running the same course with them, easily
keeping in advance of the slow sailing
transport; indeed, whether it were that she,
wished to avail herself of the convoy, or from
a fear of squalls off the high land, she first |
took in the top gallant sail, and next furled
her topsail, contenting herself with keeping!
pace, or rather a httle a-head of the transport
and her consort. Nothing could be more
beatitiful than the heavens that night; tliel
sea was placid, and the «hips were stealing
silently along, with a light air off the land,-!
the very breezes adding their spruce and cedarl
'^ perfumed incense, to enhance the enjoymentl
of our party. For some time they gazed.sQeDl
__„ an d ^ pf^ll bniind oa the exquisi t e ^cture,-

what is BO eloquent as such silence ?— it tells

AI.THAJt.

131

how deeply, each one feels. ho,v inadequate
each supposes words to be, how every Ld

■s employed, etching each beautiful iL on

memorystablets.endlaying.it by for future
pleasure. Cpptain Brooke enjoyed it Z

-ar sig,, were familiar, anii\:;:
first to break Silence.' ,

"Before daylight I hope we shall be abreast
of Cape North, fuJ^Ther than which, my
mstructos wiU not permit my accompanying
you Had you not better to bed, fair kdies
you have not long to sleep ?"

"We shall have long enough for that on"

I board yonder ship. I fear." answered Isabella!
I enjoy myself much more on decK to ni<.ht '

and as we shall, you ,ay. leave you so so^on'
1 1« scarce worth while to go to bed-'tis now .
[past one. .

" But the night air, young lady."
"Is to me most agreeable, and with your
kind permission we will enjoy it^

"Even till the eastern gate all fiery red
Tum,mtq3re lI ow|t ol d hi.^tg^,tream»:"

"But rheumatism, Miss Isabella."

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132

ALTHAM.

" I have never felt it, sir captain, and this
is not the first time my imprudence has outrun
my discretion. May I trouble you, Mr.
Annesley, to tell my maid to bring up shawls
and cloaks, — now. Captain Brooke, am /
imprudent ?'*

" Indeed you are, but as I have no lawful
authority 'over you, I will wish you a good
night, — ^to your beds if my advice avail, but if
you will not take it, pray tell your fathers, that
all the consequences which may ensue were
the result of mutiny."

An hour after the captain had left the deck,
a dark segment of a circle appeared on the
northern quadrant of the horizon, definitively
lAarked, yet so transparent, that the stars were
clearly visible through it ; above and bene&th
were corresponding arches of a faint roseate
light, the upper circlet assuming occasionally
a billowy outline, which the eye could not
follow, so fitful were its undulations. Scarcely
had Annesley pointed it out to his companions,
when pencils of party coloured light were
thrown nieft. thpi r b asf fl nppenring t" fl»at

from nomi to east.

ALTHAM. 133

I - , .. .

I " ^''8°* '" P"T>'e, nurtured in vermilHon,
, ^™f ^^^ ^° '°°J^«'» go'd and swathed in dun.

' r r!? '"'"*'^^°*»°°«Turk'spavillion,
1 And blending every colour into one."

For so ithey did their varied tints. The ocean
the air,! the tall frowning cUff which they had
left on their weather quarter, and the line of
coast on their beam, even the frigate and her
convoy reflected the hue of a crimson canopy
which seemed suspende'5 at no great height
over head, its tent-like structure., not even
wa»tmg supports from the horizon, although
so fleetmg were they, that the eye could
scarcely catch them. The colouring of this
magnificent phenomenon was now the same
vaiying only in intensity, for ever and anon
flashes seemed to pass over its surface with a
wUd, mdistinct, dreamlike eflect. What added
to the intense beauty of this strange display
was, that through the ruddy dome the pale star^
shone with their -fuU lust>e, seemingly calm
mtnesses of the beautifiil vagaries of our
atmosphere. Not an aberrational twinkle of a
fixed star was lost to the eye-the very colors
0' the pl a nets were distin g uishable,— Ma ra=
frowned red and baneful as of yore, and the

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134

ALTHAM.

emerald emblazoned zone of Venus, radiated
its green scintillation unchanged — they were
but the more ta be remarked coming through
this unwonted medium. The light of the
Aurora, was, at least, equal to that of the full
moon in intensity, whilst its ruddy corruscations
displayed an ever-varying kaleidoscopic panor
rama of intense beauty.

Old Smith had charge of the watch, and
hitherto had walked the deck in silence; he
now approached the absorbed party.

" I say, Annesley, you know I am an old
croaker ; I much fear the ''ladies and you will
have bad weather in the gulf, — I don't like an
aurora which reaches the zenith ; thank your
stars that you are in a' northern latitude,— 1
could wish that the Shannon were -bound for
Quebec, yonder old tub will make but a poor
hand of it in the narrows in such weather as 1
foresee, — another hour and you wilj be ou
board her."

" I agree with you, old fellow, that something

not too pleasant is brewing; but we shall do

jyell enough ; Captain Brooke says that the

master of the Triagain is an old timbfer droger,

ALTHAM.

135

he must therefore be an accomplished pilot in
the gulf and river." r

" But where the deuce is the use of all that
supposmg his abominable tub on a lee shore ?
The Board of Admiralty, eVen if they were (as
they ought to be) the best sailors in the British
navy, could do nothing with her: We have only
to hope, that the gale may come in a leading

direction,m whichcaseshemaydowellenough "
By half past four in the morning, the vessels
were abreast of Cape J>^orth; even at the
distance of four leagues it seemed close to but
the tall pmes which clothed its sides, of a size
to fit a first-rate with spars, seemed but like
broom sticks. Captain, Brooke came on deck
to take leave of his guests. The late beauty'
of the heavens was dimifeed, but stUI, though
not clear, as the sun arose, an azure Copley
Ming hke mist, softened without obscuring
the view of tbe land. Captain Brooke steered
the boat m which the ladies were transferred
r *^^ ^ig«*« to the Triagain; another
Mowed bringing the voliniteers, who having
[^M perilsof the eee ai i w arfa re, between -
tiieir island home stni her former colony, now .

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136

ALTHAM.

were about to seek her foes on the lakes,
having at sea •

" Slieath'd their swoi;ds for lack of argument" ^

Poor fellows ! of their subsequent fate %e'
have to speak. Up to this time they felt, that
the necessary means of making a gallant
defence to vastly superior foes, had always
beeij. placed at their disposal, and that an equal
had been a certain prize, — they had yet to
learn what an equal meant. ' Associated with
a number of voyagers and soldiers,.who whilst
they swelled the muster-roll, were only in tli'e
way^* they were to meet a foe, whose number
did not equal the aggregate of their o\Yn, and
to he beaten. Could they have foreseen that
their government would have subjected itself
and them to such opprobrium, rather would
they have died than entered on a service,
for which they now volunteered, with hearts
beating with enthusiasm — such thoughts were
fpreign to their boSoms, as they were to that
of their young leader, who now accompanied
his captain and the young ladies^ ^he boats
approached the Triagain, and their respective
freights ascended her lofty sides.

ALTHAM.

137

; on the lakes,

With threei cheers ^the vessels parted (the
. wind having [jome round to th6 southward)
each with a frcfe sheet. To the educated eye
of Annesley, j every thing on board their
temporary home was wrong, but with that he
had nothing U do, and with the comfortable
feelii|g of bein^ a passenger only, after seeing
the ladies to | the cabins assigned them, he
joined some l^te wassailers, who still kept it
tip in the cufidy, but, soon disgusted, he
retired to his | birth, where, worn out by long
wakefulness, h^ slept for many hours. When
he returned tjo the deck the Triagain was
walking alon^ under pourses and reefed
topsails; the i heavens, although not , very
threatening, shewed not as much blue as would
make a nightcap, their hue was an unvarying
dull lead colouj:— a miist, if it might be so
caUed, or rathet a fog like that of the New-
foundland banki, shut from the eye all save
the extent of a co|iple of hundred yards around.
In their fatigue dresses soldiei«6JhrQnged the
Ms, with the exception of the aristocratic •
and reserved poQ p. w he re ^ few ^u ng ^ oe »^^

were lazily lounping, most of them imbibing

138

ALTHAM.

.the fumes of that soother of idleness, the
Raleigh-introduced weed. Dimly through the
mist to windward, might be traced the outHne
of their schooner companion of the previous
night. They were now by their reckoning
abreast of the Birds' Islands ; Annesley took
a telescope to wile away an idle moment, but
the next instant he was all hfe, for he had
discovered that her deck was crowded* wfth/
men, and ^r sides bristling *with cannon,
about thei^ding of which they were even
now busied. He lost not an iifstant in
communicating his discovery to thg transport
captain, and the colonel comittanding the
troops on board. Their glasses confirming his
information, all heads amongst the officers
were in consultation as to the course to be
adopted ; it was clear they had been dogged,
but, as yet it was doubtful, if their true
character were known to the enemy. At long
bowls he could mill them at his ease^ — the
TriagainvOnly carrying two small caronades —
and these morfe for show than use, and
probably quite as dangerous to those firing
them as to the enemy. It was determined,

'■ /if,-'

ALTIIAM.

139

therefore, that; the soldiers should lie down
along the deck, as then the bulwarks would
conceal them effectuaUy from those on board
the low sehooner-every thing was prepared- "
If the schooner bore down t)n them, she
evideflt^ would have supposedthem a freight
ship Ihe Triagain having been convoyed by
the Shannon made this apifear the more hkely .
as naval and mUitary stores were being daily
sent to the Canadas from Halifax. The issue
was not long doubtful-the schooner was seen
to ease^away her sheets and stand for them -
when *:thin haU a single shot was fired, which
came bounding across the Triagain's bows
and the privateer displayed the star-spangled
banner of America. As had been previously
xgranged, the transport came to the wind, and
bided her main-yard, the schooner keeping
direilyfdt her; when within twenty yards
a hail camp booming
" Ship ahoy, do you surrender ?'*
" No do you," was the response, as
along the rail, fore and aft, five hundred
jnusgts: were po inte d ^ the^ hoonerV--
crowded deck.

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140

ALTHAM.

li!i';!*Ji

"Fire men, damn it, it is a transport
Inched Annesley's ears in well known tonejs,
a moment before the boom of the privateen s
guns, and the crash of the murderois
musquetry, rendered hearing anything sale
the salvos impossible. Thrice the peahng
vollies were heard from the troops ; the last
discii&rge being unanswered by the Privatee •,
a ^arp squall drove the smoke to leewarc ,
and the enemies' deck was seen tenanted bi t
by the wounded and the dead, with the soft
exception of the helmsman, who had haulel
his vessel to the wind, and whose voice coul I
now be distinctly heard calling on his fello

to flatten aft the sheets, but calling in vair ,
for none save he seemed willing to cncounte •
the death-bearing storm. '' j^

" I say/' cried the old Colonel, " who cai i
-pick off that fellow — if they range out -o '
musquet reach, all is up."

" A dozen muskets were instantly points
at the bold helmsman; but Annesley, whi
still retained Ingram's long Kentucky rifl(,
anticipated them. \ . ^

" Let me try first, lads," he said, — " the ;

-i^..

ALTIIAM.

141

fellow is an old acquaintance of mine, and I
should be aerry he suffered more than is
necessary— I'll use up his arm." He had
scarcely ceased speaking, when the ring of his
gun was heard, and the man who lad so
undauntedly braved the storm of shot, let gd
the helm for an instant, but almost instantly
grasped it again 4th his left hand, his right
arm hanging by his side. In vain Annesley
now pleaded for him ; a torrent of musket
balls tore the deck aiqund its solitary occupant
Intrepidly he still held to his post, but a sharp
ring was again heard, and his left arm was
seen to relinquish its grasp. His curses could
be heard on board the Triagain, as he finaUy
rehnquished his station, and indignantly kicked
off ike cleat to which the ensign halliards were
belayed. The schooner came to the wind
and on being hailed, her brave skipper
acknowledged that he had surrendered.

The Triagain's boats were lowered, and the
Privateer's crew transferred to her. Having ^
plenty of men on board, the transport furnished,

a pnze grm Md i h ^ schocm e r -w ft H^ w^^^^^^^
Quebec.

142

ALTHAM.

-i^

™ wW

:PVBI|

ati^i^

She sailed like a witch, and they soon lost
sight of her. The last boat brought her
captain on board the Triagain ; he had to be
assisted up the side, as both his arms were
disabled. Nothing could exceed his astonish-
ment, at seeing our hero in naval uniform
amongst his (mptoi^s. Jemmy at once . went
up and accosted him.

" This has been an unlucky mistake for
you, Mr. Van Ransellaer — I am sorry you
attacked us."

" Aye, I guess it was a mistake, and about
the worst I ever made. I ought to have had
a closer look at you yesterday. If I knew you
^ were full of red coats, ike way you would have
taken it would be cautionary ;— but where is
Ingram." ^

" Dead some months since."

" I guessed so ; for I did all my possible to
find him out when I got that schooner. —
What kiUed him ? " "A shot from the
Chesapeake." a j

" WeH, I always thought he ware a fool,
but I vow I never did think he was such an

as8^ as to ship with i^e Britishers. But I say,

S<Jtf.-;

ALTHAM.

143

Annesley, Imve not our frigates used you up-
whipped you complete ? " Not to my know-
ledge Mr. Van Ransellaer; but you are
wounded severely, you had bgfter Jiave your
arms dressed."

" 'Taint much of a matter neither, but 'tis
cursed inconvenient. If my rascaUy feUows
had stuck to me, we should have a different
story to tell jist now; 'tis too bad to be taken
by a transport,- but where is your berth
Jmmy, we will turn in and out^'

;^Come below then; the surgeon is busy
with your fellows-ru bring him to you "

The smallfbone below the elbow of Van's
left arm was brokpn, but the right was merely
paralized b/ a flesh wound. The doctor
qmckly put him to rights. Meanwhile, the
old Triagam was bowling off the knots • by
evenmg she had overhauled a fleet of me?-
chantmen, who were headed offty the trending
of their course to the southward.^ On reaching
Cape Rozen, the evening was uncommonly hot
for the season ; and though the heavens were
glootoy, the air being pleasant and U]my, all

M I ■ III 1 11 ) 1 Mil

B"' I say, m iMWds. J^ere on deck. The eternal cigar was

' V

!|^

144

ALTHAM.

smoked on tliQ quarter deck by its devotees ;
the ladies and non-smokers had tiie poop to
themselvesv whence they enjoyed the view of
the crowd of vessels in sights "Tt was now the
Triagain's turn to be a clipper, for in this queer
^^world of ours all things are comparative-
health and poverty, beauty and ugliness,
swiftness mid sloth— all are so. One by one
the transport weathered t^e' fleet, and her
captain was in ecstasy. | Suddenly, the wind
which had been blowiiig^ a sitfgle reef breeze
died away,— threat^^g piles of blueish black
overspread the d^^lf lead coloured sky,— distant
■ thunder is hea,^, and occasionally a, flash of
sheet lightnin|riflumines the scene. Thewipd
which had hitherto been steady, blew in cats'
paws, fhe fleet was now heading in all
-directions— some , running on their true course
T^th the wind de^d aft, whilst within half a
mile 6n either side, one was becalmed, and
another hftd the wind right down the river.
As varied as were the atmospheric currents,
were afJparently the opinions of those who
directed the movements of thejaerchantships ;

some shortened sail to close reefed topsails,

AI.THAM.

145

whilst oUiers, who had the wind aft, even
set steering-sails. The growling thunder
approached, and its volume increased • an
occasional forked shaft might now be seen
The master of the Triagain, who had happened
to be one of those favored by the wii^d had
hitherto kept her under the easy sail'with
wUch she had first made Cape Rozier He
now ordered in the close reefs of the topsails
and stowed his jib and spanker. Now the'
storm rolls .onward; a fiery haU of forked
Jghtjimg is descending continuously in every
direction, apparently withi. a few yards, and
faUing amongst that crowded fleet ; it appears
perfectly unaccountable, that some of th*
lofty spars do not attract it, we suppose in
I such mes, the ships become highly charged
I with etericty from the surromiding air, and
slowly dispose of the fluid, thus forming
imperfect conductors-at least this is the onlv
way we can account for what we ourselves
have seen, and that so few accidents occur fwm
ytmng at sea. Now, a perfect pa6c seems
L'?JggJ9Je d .l he .kippers r .om^^n^ ™

m X,. ''" ^°"''' '" '"'*'»« »«y. »er.

146

ALTHAM.

busiest in stowing every thing ; indeed,
amongst them all, the master of the Triagain
alone was inactive, as stemming the current
he held on his course, without thinking it
necessary further to extend or diminish his
canvas. Thus matters went on, until supper
time, when ther whole party assembled in the
cuddy. . The skipper had on either side, Alice
and her sister ; Annesley, as a guest, sat next
his beloved — all was conviviality and fun.
Soldiers are, doubtless, the pleasantest evening
companiotr^ existin]g. The Major was, after
much pressing, entertaining them with a
song, his rosy Bacchanal face beaming witii-
benevolence, like that of the illustrious
Pickwick, when suddenly the ship was laid on
her l^eam ends — a sharp crash was heard, and
the skipper, regardless lof his prostrate friends,
rushed on deck

" Interia magno migceri murmure.jjontum,
EB|f»i&inque tiylmem .enut Ne^u, et imi,,

Stagna refusa vadia."

ViBOIL.

It was dark as midnight, and nothing could
be seen on first reaching the deck, save that
the sea was a sheet of mingled foam and fire •
as the eye grew accustomed to the gloom, the
csuse of the shock experienced in the cabin
l»<ame apparent, the ship had been taken
•bacL The officer of the watch foreseeing a
squidl, had clewed up the fore top-saU, and
tie hands were still aloft stowing it. When
the storm had burst upon them, the ship was
ruamng fr^e, and the miited force of her
impetus, and the contraiy squall striking her
hm to p .aaU. had r^rri .^d a way th . ^ gp , r^ea„

»luch It depended, the wreck of which.

148

ALTHAM.

together \vith all the still loftier gear it had
supported, hung over the si^e to leeward.
Fortunately there was nbt much sea on, still
as the overpressed ship rolled to windward,
the broken spar struck heavily, and mucli
damage would doubtless have ensued,, had not
the squall lulled as suddenly as it had arisen.
Tomahstwks were the order of the day. The
chief officer wished to save the rigging and
.sails, h\^ his superior was too famihar with the
gulf, to trust the momentary cessation of the
gale. In accordance with his orders, every
thing was cut away ; and scarcely had the ship
freed, herself from the wreck, when the true
tempest, of which the former gust had been but
the precursor, struck her from the eastward.
Her registered tonnage was nine hundred, and
in the lower hold were ordnance stores
considerably exceeding seven hundred tons;
yet under bare poles, and with her main
topmast gone, she lay over almost on her
beam ends ; fortunately her drift was up the
river, if river it may then be called, for from I
its centre you can hardly see the land on eithol

side, except in very clear weather. On w

■fl^fl.

' y

ALTHAM.

149

X)cean, the fierce wind which was now blowing
would have prevented the sea getting up, but
hefe the current forcing its way against it,
occasioned a mountainous sweU to rise in an
incredibly short time. As soon as possible,
the Triagain had been got before it, and she
was now running nine or ten knots under her
close reefed fore-top-sail ; her unwieldy hulk
groaning and creaking from keel to rail at
such an unwonted effort at speed. .She
steered like a mad bull. A hand had'been [
from the.Jrst placed.at the lee wheel, but the
joint powers of the steersmen soon became
unequal to their task; and although relieving
tackles were appHed, still sUch a tremendous
sea got up by midnight, that the danger, of
being pooped when she yawned, became
immment. Howevei|, the/ skipper well knew
that before it,^ was his only chance of making ■ "
a passage; so taking every precaution which
long experience suggested, he continued to run
The morning brought no abatement of the gale '
but rather the contrary; and on Annesley's
coming on deck , he^felt^thAgr eat^st^tonisb.

-t-

veather: "OnleWni^, that the tub-shaped cfaft still was able

-W-

150

» ALTHAaC.

to *eud in a sea to which none he had hitherto
seen could compare. One aloije of their
companions of the previous evening ^as in
«ight, and that one but occasionally. Although
she was scarcely half a mile ahead, it was only
while each ship Was on the crest of a wave,
that their hulls were visible from one another;
and not > unseldom, even a gUmpse of the
highest spars wUs not to be seen. The gale
;was fierce in the extreme, but alone would not
sufficiently account for the seas, which were
now bearing the old ship along with lightning
speed, on the crest ; now threatening her with
annihilation, as the following roll reared its
curUng top some forty or fifty feet in height,
half her own length astern, whilst it becahned
her so, that she almost lost steerage way. Yet
if it be remembered, that the mighty river
which they were ascending, forms the commu-
nication with the ocean, of one-third part of|
the fresh water existing on the surface of the j
globe,* being the sole outlet of the vast inland

* The lakes Superior, Michegan, Huron, St.' Clair, Em, ml
OiBtario, I wither think contain a much lai^gCTproportion thu
tlMt>«tittd.

/TTv

I*ff;,t.

ALTHAM.

15]

seas which form aWediterrraiean, (of as great
stent as the father of seas, so named,)
separating the American territory, of Britain
from the boundless domains of M republicaa
daughter. To be added to the flood, from
these, is that of the Ottawa, draining an extent
of country, of eight dWees of Idngitude, and
four and a half of latit\ide, or about 13(^,000
square miles in area ;\ and not to mention
htmdreds of minor tributaries, which in Europe
would rank amongst fiW class rivers, the
Saguenay (whose origin is as litUe known as
that of the Nile,) afford)( a mass /of water,
which rushes along for Irniles into the St.'
Laurence, without mingUig with it Near
its mouth, the former river\is, it, is true, but
half a mile across ; but witU a few yards of
either shore, no bottom is found with t/iree
hndred fathom. ' Taking thise circmnstances
into consideration, it will cease to be matter of
wonder, that even a sea of sixty miles breadtk
should roU towards the oceim, a current
against which the fastest chpp^r in vain triea
to ascend, with the wind adverse : and wl^j^h'

■pR>ducesT r<air when opposed to an easterly

152

ALTIIAM.

gale, unknov^ elsewhere. I need not say,
that Annesley was often by the side of his old,
shipmate, Van Ransellter.— For many hours
after the commencement of the gale, the Yankee
enjoyed that blessed state of insouciance, which
we have noticed, as beiilg the chai-acteristic of

' sailors, when mere passengers. The ladies,
who wer§ our hero's peculiar charge, were
where they ought to be, in their state room.
The second evening approached to dusk. The
skipper of the Triagain enters the saloon to
supper, nearly wearied out. At the upper
end of the table, blazes the fiery face of the
gallant Major, supported on either hand by
some staunch devotee of Bacchus, to whom,
whilst the rosy god is in the ascendant, all

' external affairs are equal. With difficulty they
can keep their places, so heavily rolls the ship.
" Confoundedly hard to hold on here.
Skipper," said the Major, (who never, even in
the fullest enjoyment of conviviality, forgot
that her Majesty's conmiission alon€ entitles a
man to the designation of Captain,) " could
not you keep her firf' an hour or two on some

''^lii^e wTiich TBdWdmake little easier/'

..3?

'♦,f

t (

\--«,

ALTHAM.

158

"Certainly, sir; in an hour or two she
would be easy enough, giving her a couple of
points either way."

"WeU, damn it, old fellow, don V bother
now ; I fancy it is bad enough— do your best-
but don't bore us about our situation." I

" As yet. Major, there really is no danget ;
but I must ask you, as the Colonel is turned
in, to send orders, that your men should go
below, as I must have my hatches battened
down. 1 cannot run much loiiger, even if I
had sea toom,— and when I bring the ship to,
'tis highly probable, that our decks may
be swept."

" Certainly," repHed the Major. " I say,
Annesley, you have your sea legs aboard!
(faith, ashore or afloat, mine never stand to me
well after dinner,) like a good feUow, send our
men below. And- I say, teU them that the
skipper says, that if the wind holds, we shaU
be at Quebec to-morrow ;— it will make them
sleep at all events j and no harm done, even
shouli Quebec be changed for some other
quarter."

i little easier." f The hatcHes were tatenied"down~aft^^ the

154

AliTttAM.

troops had gone below ; and the tkipper
resumed his station on the poop. He Mad run
as far as he dared, in the existing gloomy
weather; and had, barely, according to his
.reckoning, left himself sufficient room* for a
five hours drift — or at farthest, until day-light.
He, therefore, anxiously watched for a compa-
rative lull, to bring her to the wind. The
fore and foretop sails were stowed. Three
immense consecutive seas rolled by, and as
the comb of the last passed her fore chains,
the order was given .to the men at the wheel,
to J^t her come up with her head to the
southward. The moment was well chosen;
and, although one huge sea struck her, whilst
in the trough, but little damage was sustained,
beyond the loss of a few planks off the weather
bulwarks; now, however, for the first time,
they felt the full power of the tremendous sea.

" Tunc Prora avertit et undis,
Dut latus ; insequitur cumulo pneruptus aquae mons,
Nunc summo in fluctu, pendent, nunc unda dehisceus,
Terram inter fluctus aperit."

The ship laboured tremendously, as she
Taeended^the side xsf^ aliuge sea ; and when i!

, ALTHAM. - I 155

occurred, that the lipper struci her, she
groaned to her centre, and now, as she feU off
on its weather side, the furious wind pressed
her in nearly to her leading ^lock, whilst as
she became almost the instant aiter becalmed
in the trough, the pendulous actiok <^ the shot,
and other heavy stores which iUighted- her -
lower hold, caused the weath^ roU^ to be-
most unusually quick and straining. - No^
two (^nions can be entertained, as tb the
modeUing of our ship buUders half a centiirf
since, ( and our contemporaries have ^
slightly improved,) but to give the Devil his
due, % gave fair play with their sjlpndid
native oak and copper. The Triagain was by
no means a remarkably .staunch ship before
the blow, but the joint assaults of Eolus and
Neptune, were as yet unable to increase the
customary spell, each four hours, in any
perceptible degree. Finding her lying tq,
much more easily than under^U circumstances^
he had expected, Annesley Entered the poop,
and made his way tothe door of the cabin'
appropriated to jhe ladies. His knbck w^ .f.

■f13

once answered, and life was received by the

iiJv.i' «'•- <«i>#^ -jMit

.;..I^--A&. .

156

ALTHAM.

sisters, and Miss Sherbrooke, in a room, which
from its size and appearance might be called
a saloon ; the portion assigned to the repose
of the occupants, being screened off wdtfr a
rich drapery of crimson damask. Jhe kindness
of the Colonel commanding on board, had
jtppropriated his^ own cabin to their acconau
modation;' so th«t as far as people couljj. be
coflafortable at sea, in bad weather, who
had not been much accustomed to it, they^
Were so.

" Is any danger to be apprehended, Mr.
Annesley,*' askea AUce.

" None whatever, at present ; the ship
has behaved miraculously, considering her
appearance."

" We have a favor to ask of you, Annesley,"
said Isabella, — " When you say that there is
no present danger, I feel that you speak the
truth, but your Very expression leads t6 the
supposition, that it may not be far distant— •
do not treat us %ke children — ^but should it
become imminentl let us know ; so fullns om
faith in you, that )ve shall remain here without
idreadjUStflryotr^visrdifferentfy."

Tr/^'''

jrehended, Mr.

AL#AM..^^ 157

There was a somethbg in the manner of
the speaker, as well as in her w^tls, which
caused Annesley's heart to thi^Bgth an
eflbrt (even in the presence of ^^^p^Looke
and Alice,) he restrained hims^^Xn^^
more than « dearest Isabella, yo^^never
find any confidence, with which you honor me,
misplaced. I am now about to see Captain
Van Ransellaer, after which, if you will permit
me, I shaU have the pleasure of returning here
and you may, 14 all confidence, rely on my
report." J ^

Annesley descended to his cabin, where, in
spite of his recent severe injuries, he found the
Yankee dressing, with the aid of his servant.

" I>ay, Jemmy. I don't at all fancy our
position J the reports of your youngster have
been my only log, so that I don't ex^tly
know where we are-but by my reckoning, we

must be weU up in the river. Whereabouts
are we?' . ,

" Faith, I can't exactly say ; I dcm't think
I ever looked at a chart of the St. Lawrence

yourself ?_depend on it, e^tUng b -

'l-"r~.

jif*

{.«'' i&'il'^d.Hlil, ijti

158

ALTHAM. >

right ; at least, every thing that is possible
will be done."

" I don't know, boy ; I have every inch of
the coast by hearty and have no fancy to die
like a rat in a water cask-^lend me a hand
on deck.
'. ** But the doctor prescribed quiet."

" Damn the doctor and .his orders ; I guess,
I don't feel a bit too quiet here:^ — I never hke
to trust yoiir EngUsh skippers, they don't
know enough to be boatswains aboard our
ships. Come, I am all right now — let us
go 'pon deck."

Most certainly, appearances above, were by
no means likely to lead Van to a more tranquil
frame of mind ; still, strange as it may: seem,
when he had s^en low tilings stood, he relapsed
into his usual apparently inert state. By his
request, Aunesley passed a rope's end round
his waist, and- he chatted away, &ho\k\ jJast
scenes, as coolly as ever ; the fresh air seemed
ta Minvigorate him, and every now and then
he sent Annesley's boy, who had accompanied
J^im, on fek, to a scertain the po s ition of the'
ship's head, « she came up and fell off. Thus

AITHAM.

159

matto went on. for two hours after they
reached the deck, when a, sudden luu|fcok
.P'7 ''°''^« «">«. JJeptune alone seemed
m charge of the ship. Several successive seas* '
.tack her sweeping away her bulwarks from
he main-chains forward, and making a clear
breach over her. Still, Van chatted away
unheeded by our hero, whose mind was f„
to deeply occupied by the dearer intei^sts
wtach were on board. A strunge sound is
M to w^dward, and an instant after, the
sbp IS on her beam ends. The gale, which
or a few mmutes had luUed, noV struck her
flflm die southward and eastward, throwing
ier off mto the tr.,ugh. A voice is heard
.bo.e the howling of the tempest, dearly by

dl on deck -its tones are unknown, yet
instantly obeyed.

r.IJ^ hands axes,- cut away the mizen
mast. Tomahawks and axes are bu^ly at
work, before the astonished skipper h«,
•ought kmself up amongst the floatog mass
to leeward; and as he reached the poop his
°^'"°yt.M over. Md

the ship lighted;

WhoevA gave that order it was correct,"

.;Jfe.,

'■>;4j-

P, i

Veo

ALTHAM.

he^said ; " had it not been so, he should have
dearly ni^d it. I wish all to know, that I
command here ; as it is, I feel obliged, but beg
that no more such liberties may be taken."

" Egad you may be obhged," growled Van,
in tones which only reached those in his
immediate vicinity ; " if another sea struck
\ her, while in yon fix, 'twas all up." The ship
rolled frightfully, labouring far more from the
loss of her spars ; whilst from the hold arose
a stifled yell, in which the bass voices of men
mingled with the shrill cries of women and
children, in wildi^iapason. Affairs seemed
now far more critical than before, for the
altered direction of the wind, placed the ship
directly in the trougli of the sea, in which she
rolled tremendously. Td add to the affright of
the prisoners in her womb, at each roll, the
deep sound of the ship's bell l;^ed as at minute
intervals, forming a funeral accompaniment to
the other terrors which struck to the hearts
of thp captives, its every knell calling forth
shrieks of anguisli.

At dawn of morning, a Une of breakers
migfit be ieefi to lee ward, buT all over Itm

■■«v

ALTHAM.

161

was obscured by mist. The captain Was quite
taken aback at this, as he hacNcalculated on
being many miles from the north*.shore ; and
the present direction of the wind, together
with the unlooked-for place of his maimed
ship, left him in^ position of most imminent
danger. For an instant, the ^efl of mist was \
upborne by the tempest, reveaUng to the
terror-stricken crew, an iron-bouhd shore of
vast height, within three miles to '^feeward. ^
Annesley did not forget his promise to the *
ladies, and however painful, he felt that the
time had come when it was his duty to
redeem it, and for that purpose was aboirt to
leave the deck, when he was startled by Jate's
breaking out into the chorus of a song, which J
in moments of pleasurable excitement Jie had
often heard him sing before. Vftn's chant is
characteristic ; and as it is not long, we
present it to you. . '

Old Joe kicking up behind and before,
And the yaUa gab kicking up behind old Joe.
AUo^Om Joe. BM.-01d Joe.

CTheitftnt two Knet repeated.) '

Whilst on board the Xarifa, Anneslex had_„

imbibermuchonngram^ faith in Van : but

VOL. II. L

162

AI|THAM.

fur

now, he could not but believe, that his mirth
was the effect of dehrium.

" Mr. Van Uansellaer," he therefore said,
" I wish you wo^d go below — Charley will
look after you ; — I have other duties."

" Ha ! ha ! " roared Jake, " you fancy me
fevered, boy, I guess. Just put your finger
mi my pulse, and then on your own, and
judge who is most so." -^ *

" Instinctively, Annesley did as he was
bidden. Van's pulse kept equal time, he
^erefore. asked, " How or why do you think
us safe ?"

*' You are so, boy, I tell you so ; make
your mind easy." .

At this moment, the skipper of the Triagain's
voice was heard calling the hands aftj his
speech was short and nervousi telling the men
that in case of the ship going on shore, their
only chance was, that they should pull together,
and o|)ey the orders of their officers.

" Very good advice if there was any need
of it," sung out Van, when the skipper had
ended, in a voice heard before and aft : that
voice had^^lS^n heard before, and w»riror

1 1

ALTHAM.

that his mirth

163

mJo^isM by all, and amongst others by the
raptain —

" Who dares to intierrupt me ? "
" He wiU know soon enough. Jemmy," said
Van, in a low tone, " jest wait a bit." Scarcely
had he ended, when the ^vpice of the lodt out
forward was heard—" breakers ahead on both
bows." The skipper rushed forward, and
found that it was but too true. Before he had
reached the forecastle, Van said to Annesley—
" Go to him, Jemmy, and teU him, that I
can and will save his ship, if he will give me
I charge as pilot,— if he doubts you, swear that '
he may trust me-, and t will redeem your oath."'
When Annesley reached the forecastle, the
! captain had convinced, himself that the report
j of his look out was correct, hMtm hour
before he had seen the hne of breakers |o the '
northward ; and all now seemed very n^^
oyer with the good ship, in which d years lie
had traversed almost every part of the globe; ^
having no hope of saving her himself, he
grasped at what, truth to tqll, he considered
I a straw,

" Tell your friend, Mr. Annesley, that if he

164

ALT||A3t-^

saves the sWp,n^iHshali¥$fr|vell ^^ ioT it—
'' I give her ufi^Ci'' |ii.m. ,* ^'\ ^3 -^i''"' ' .. <^

licati^ the captain^ i^ssa^L the^

that energy whichj as has

in the^e |)ages, neyer failed

real need,) cried-

stay sails — stand - by yew weather
fore^oraces— lay the yards flat abaq|r-let fall
.and sheet home the foretop-sail." . It was
|(ione. Hard up with the helm, and let her
make a staj:n-boardj" — she did so ; \the sea
breakiiig clean over her. for 5ome minutps.
** Stand by men, to ^un up the foretopmast
stay-sail— -right the helm now, as she falls off-
hard up." A few seconds, and the old ship is
flying before it again. Annesley, look to the
steering— ^some half-dozen hands ,pas8 the
word dong — and I say> iel couple of you lend
m^ a hand forward." ' ^JL

Jake took his station on the-^Kallant
fore-cas^k and thence pass^^^^aWlers to

Anneslp^ho conned. I^ nHp^^^^^''
jine of co^tj^ould je distiaSfcraced to
leeward, shewing a front t)f bB^ jMJk more

-S\4

ellpOTf9riU

iS,"

r4 1

s5a£
vfmchi as nas

;es, neyer failed

f y(«p weather
,t abaSir— let fall

i-sail.'"^. It was

Im, and- let her
lid so ; \ the sea
ssome minutes,
the foretopmast
as she falls off—
d the old ship is
jsley, look to the
hands pass the

upie o
thej

I you leuu

lA tvlm

pRers.to

phour the

IJjfSiced to

bffl

HHc more

-H

|P'-

ALTHAM.

165

than "QDe thousand feet liiM,
liA^iili- 1 , "'8"' apparently

bfcedfiiCiJar, whose base was lashed, bv a

I . ^r^- ^ *'y "^"""l it. an opening,
or-fcther a fi^e, as it seemed. wS

Enable. The mouth of the. Saguenav-
Hely exceeds a half mile in breadfh; at
oAer s.de all, is fierce war between the
htorm-vexed waters and their impregnable-
coast; so narrow, indeed, is the clear passage
mto this vast nver, that it hardly interru^
the breakmg of the wate.«, as each hugh biuSw
^rolls ashore. On thte crest of a monntainou,
m, the ship enters the yawning chasm, whilst
fe bhnd.ng nust from the surf, on either
W, rendered it impossible to discern any
hmg around, for some moments' of, deen
Hy ■' piloted by Van, howWer, she reached
kbasm^so perfectly land-locked, that it needed

H«Jand«„._h#iiSf1[hij5al^*,Wit
MM .te wdd ^usic amoi^ the mountain, i

f^n3^forthelasttwo,fys,beeni„a
pred dream. - ^ -y» J

V,.

v't

cwj

tM. .^-^

#.'^.:.: ' i'

Chapter XI.

*' Statio bene fida carinia."

ViROIL.

Arrived' at his destined mooring grouDd,
Van ordered the sails to be stowed. When
he reappeared on the poop, the master of the
transport, after due expressions of gratitude,
for the salvation 6f his ship, asked — ^^ ^
p^ilWhat depth! of water shall we come to iii,|
Captmn Van Ransellaer ? **
\ " More, I guess, than your ground gear, if I
all bent on end, would find sounding in. The!
tops of the mountains around, are not furtherj
above, than the bottom of this here river kl
Ibelow us ; but we have a handier plan ofl
mooring here. Have a warp coiled ihtoonel
of your boats, ai^d you will find plenty of tr
ashore, to make fast to. The snore goes dowi|
like a wall, so you can lie as snugly as

you were alongside a wharf."

t *

'•<*

■p-

^i~-~\

,-A

ALTHAM.

167

" ^ sufficiently primitive way of bringing
her to, but 8 piece of rattling would 'hold
ber here. I think I can promise, that in
consideration of this night's work, my owners
wdl make good the loss of you^' schooner,
which most fortunately gave us the advantage
of your local knowledge to-day."

" Well, I never wanted a fresh departure
more; for the clothes I wear, are aU I can at
this moment eaU mine. A few months since
!»<& rich-all I saved of tKat, went into the
schooner I was ass enou^ to let you take
I guess, I never made such a damation fool of
myself since I was a boy, nor then neither-it
vexes me — it does."

-, Never mind, old feUow-better luck next
hme. I can't say that this turn it vexes isr
as your mistake, besides saving my ship then,'
has now, a second ^me preserved her, and
[thehvfesof SOOmen."

" WeU, 'tig^ ill wind^hich blows nobodv

good.. I feel .confougp sore; so now that

here.s^^eforit,:Fg„essIwilldo,s
I Jawbones told me— kmp qnjpt »

.^j"

— fc»-

" I have a spare sti^ room next my own • .

■■*'J ,'-A,

'^,

■#

■^

l^O ALTHAM.

you will have mo^g|i|jli|% i^ l)elow.—
Shall I have a cot slung there for you? "

" Thank you--I am well off enough with
Annesley, who is an old shipmate of mine,'^

" Affyou choose. Pray send to me for any
thing you may want— yo^r kit was not brought
on board, and Annesley 's traps will not fit you.
I ^1 direct my steward to see you all "right."
" With a gruff expression of thanks, j^e
\ defended, aided by Charley, Annesley 's boy.
Wlfet|.^as the boy's master ? As soon as his
task at the helm was done, (a task at which he
felt ten-fold re§p6||ibility, as it concej-ned thf
safety of the l^di^,)- he descended to the cabinr
Again 1^ ktmk was promptly answered by
° Isabellgf:^^ |iheir caibin, as in the daddy, all
was conl^Sn — the flairs allibut of their
places, ^d the table ^j^^ .burst »<fom^s
, lashings, overturnfiflL f^^^" >' ^ ,^*T

" For a time^pi^ supposed you had
"^^forgotterf'ul. I ^ew, that care for our safety
alone k^pt you absent."

^' You did me but justice, dear Isabella.
Thank God, we are safe ; but we had a most

HaRow escape

=**=

»'-••

ALTHAM.

169

" Indeed it has been a fearful time—we
once thought that all was over, that the ship
Jiad%set— and again, that dreadful bell, and
"the awful shrieks that were so distinctly heard
above the i|)roar on deck. 1 shall never ibrget ',
that hal|^ hour. Our lamp was upset, and we
were in tot^ darkness. I used to think, that
I could meet death more cahnly tl^kii Alice.
Had l^ot been for hfr Mid Mary Sherbrooke,
1 8ho™|have gone mad."

" ^^y«^®*^*' ^^^ ^^ ^^ t^a* ^^ gained
sufficientlSi^ge to reassure the^others. ? "

"I really i^|not know; all I dearly
recollect, is, .that T should have died, had I
been alone. But, Annesley, where are we ? '*

" In a small lake, the majestic beauty of
whMe^hi^^ |hall not attempt to describe.—
BelbfOhe rest you need so much, a few
minutes on deck would soothe you; and I
can promise yoli! feuch scenery as you have no
where beheld — that is, if you are not too
much fatigued. In your absence, your cabin
can be put to rights."
j^ed as they were, the ladiej^jcceded to
's proposal. As yet, none of the

•/

170

ALTHAM.

H'jl'i

military iniiabitftnts of the poop, with the
exception of the Commanding Officer, had
appeared on deck. Even Annesley's expressed
admiration, had not prepared his companions
for the scene which awaited them. The ship
was lying in a small basin, nearly circular, of
iiot more than a mile diameter, surrounded by

" Mountains, on whose barrf n breast,
The labouring clouds do often rest."

Along the margin at high-water mark, ran a

strip of nearly level land, varying in width,

but seldom exceeding a few yards ; formed,

perhaps, by the wash from the adjacent high

lands. On this, vast Maples and Basswood

trees grew, interspersed with drooping Elms,

whose gracefully pendent branches often

touched the water. Immediately beyond this

fringe of verdant beauty, arose mountains,

sometimes formed of black rock, shooting

perpendicularly, and varying from one to two

thousand feet in height, and crowned, by

what seen through the mist which partially

concealed them, well might seem turrets and

minarets. In other places, wfee the cliff had^

"JS-

-■tl^ll

ALTHAM.

171

a slight inclination, the dark foliage of the
Pine and Cedar tribes was varied by the light
sprays of the Poplar, and the soft green of the
Birch, whose pensile blossoms were at that
season in their fullest fragrance, and most
graceful beauty. Sometimes the summits of
the mountains might be seen, whilst again,
masses of vapour hung in undulating wreaths
down their sides ; and it were hard to tell the
moment of most picturesque beauty.

" This is,*' said Isabella, "ia spot to dream
about ; I hope we shall, ere wt leave, have an
opportunity of seeing it with a clear sky. I
should hke to get it by heart."

"And I," said her sister, " bave it so
ah-eady—I would not like to have my picture
varied in the least— I could not spare even a
single cloud from these magnidcent cliffs.
I see their outlines thence downwards; and my
imagination assigns them sumj^ within the
heavens themselves — ^what saMrcJi^Mary ? "

" TEat just now, I thought with, Isabella ;
whilst you spoke, with you ; and what a.
^eabl e being I m ust be, I even n o w;

lpn,"5ng to see their cloud-capped heights

■ '' l- * -..'.'

[^'

172

ALTHAM.

. reflecting the splendours of a Canadian sunset ;
whilst down here, it should be twilight." '■
^^And I, fair ladies," said the Colonel, who'
had been a listener to the foregoing, " would
bargain, never to see a cloud again,- give me
hght-blue sUQuy skies, and (if it is my
misfortune to be obliged to cross them,) blue
seas, with a lightly rippled surface. I feay, I
have no romance in my constitution. Most
assuredly, I hate your storms ; and ^s
certainly, even this Ossianic scene awakens
no enthusiasm — I can fancy nothing more
desolately dreary. We are all tired— so I
move, that we go to bed. JHowever, before
we do so, Mr. Annesl^, as I mm informed,
that we owe it to the privateei^aptain, that
w^' fire not all enacting the part of Jonah,
wilhout the least hope of its favourable^
termination; and, that the skipper is an •
acquaintance of your's, will you be l^lnd
enough to tell hi n^, that I can prbmise hje
discharge, on our arrival at Quebec; q^d,
moreover, will n^^)^cheerfully pay n^y share,
,'to make it- turn out a good* day for liI^ that

•■- ' • )

■( ''

AITHAM.

.173

I sliall be happy to convey your kind
mtentionsto him, sir. I*^t^i„k, that iBe
Colonel 8 move is a good one-shall I attend
you to your cabin, ladies." <r

The joUy Major, to whom we have before
earsonly fotfoduced our readers, ^s as fond
of sport as he was of the eulte of the rosy god
Whilst toothers, the preceding nigh^ had been
one of unmitigated iorror, he had donned his
™al nigK c,p; before he turned in • and
alttough h^ was almost awakened, when the
ship w^^rfte i^„„ ^^^^^ J-

a We about his Bed teing .badly mad^

cerSiM^ without reason, as he had a large

knee "»,the middle of his back, his state
room be,„g ^ j^^^^^^ . ^^^^ ^^^

^did W; and feeUng snug again, «sunl*
I1.S. half-Uroken slumber. Being thorougfily
Beasoned, he turned out at iis usual hour'
feuch mawelliiigat the quietude which reigaed
a«>um}<^etf leafaing that the/.were in^he '
Saguenayf he desired his servant to hunt u» v
kjsmcase.ftnd fishing-gear. The.«result4 »
h^pAistry, together with tha/ of ^nm^hrif- ' _
youngsters whoS he rallied Vound' him,'; , V

t 'I

«y

■%■

▼ « i.

■y

•i, ' ^.'* * «

is'iari'i'.

174

ALTHAM.

was a most glorious dinner for qll hands aft.

.No sooner did his fly touch the water, than it
was grasped by a huge salmon,. The first two
, or three gave him amazing play, imtil tired
of doing them to death inore waldronis, he
unbent the top jwnts of his rod, and doubling
his gear, hauled them out by main force — so
that by noon, he had a barrel of magnificenl
fish. Hearing his friends blazing away in all
directions around, he ordered his servant to
get his gun to rights, and immolated some
twenty brace of Partridge, (tl^ most stupid-
birds in the world, by the way.) How think
you, readeir, they are shot ? Why, of course,
your dogs come to a point in a turnip or
potato field, or perhaps a stubble. No such
thing, my good sir. I^our dog, if you have
one, flushes the covey, and rrtns after them,
yelping at the top of his canine lungs, until

■ they pitch in a tree, under which he sits
barkipg" away. The, birds finding that his
hostility is cdnfiti«,d to meBAound, quietly
Jobk fit him, until attracted Wihe spot by his
tongue, yoa come up — you then commence

^ .with thp loweir of ^eifiTliHa^ blaze away

;-.

*■,

'W'

altuam.

175

fest as you ^„ load, until you have bagged
the e„te. You would not give a farthiug for
such shoo ,ng ! Yes, you would, if you had
for a month before luxuriated on rancid pork
and poor unfortunate towls who had died of
^ sickness and misery. To tell the truth
although the birds called Partridge in North
Amenca, are wrongly named, being in reahty
a species of Wood Grouse; their flavor, when
mast, IS unexceptionable. But you have no
sport? You would not say so, had you
witnessed the dinner party on ooard the.'
ft-agam. If the Major had done his part as
a purveyor fairly, no one could deny h™ the
honor of being an unequalled treneher-man
Oysters had been abundantly provided by ■
some strollers along the shore ; and the Major
-seized, and by practice proved, that thL
«ce IS good with eveiy thing, fish, flesh, .„d

JMC . The most serttaent^. of. the pirt;

Mwuhy^, , , a, „oW disturbed the.
Majors happiness, until i^eslg^ who had '

"UK „,.a.„siasm. " Udics, pu ^I^'

■- ** ?^

.v.'> V

176

ALTHAM.

ited at

miss the scene exhibited at present ; you
thought it beautiful this morning, but it is
infinitely more lovely now ; you then doubted
whether any change could be for the better —
come and judge for yourselves. You had better
pttfr on your shawls, as I think you are hardly
likely to exchange it for the cabin very soon."

" Pish, boy," retorted the Major, " the hot
water is just coming in — to the deuce with
your scenery." BiSt all thought not so—
the, ladies were bonnetted and shawled in a
moment ; and the panorama which displayed
itself to view, well repaid tl](pm. ,/

The storm had ceased, arid the calm Cold
moon shed a flpbd! of r radiance over the
mountains, though still in her first quarter.
In the-mwror-li^e bosom of the lal^e,.the hoar
hills were reflectedj as were the few fleecy
clouds which wrapped the sky— -deep shadow
dwelt below thq bases of the precipices of rock,
but 0ven there afar beneath the unrippled
surface of the waters, varying streams of silver
light marked the erratic paths of the inhabitants
of the deep. For some minutes^ill were silent, J
enjoying the loveiy picture. ■ \ ""

•/ •• ■

^ f

ALTHAM.

177

At last, a ,0ft and solemn.breathing sound,

W hke a stream of rich distiU'd peHume,

And-stol^.upon the air ; that even silence

Was took, ere she was ware, and wished she might

Deny her nature, and be never more,

Still, to be so displaced."

Some of the- non-commissioned officers and
then, wives had borrowed one of the ship's
boats, and with voices harmonized by distance
were smging the 100th Psahn. Nothing could
be more exquisite, tha'n the effect produced by
tbat^sunple.yet sublime music, to which the
Khtfes ansjvered in solemn chords.— It ceased
and aU was again silence, ~ until, on the
approach of tlfe boat, the Colonel ordered
tbe band on deck. Even those capable of
.ppreciatrng duly sacred music, can have but
a famt Idea of what it is,, on such a night, and '
m such » theatre. One ! after another, solemn
dys succeeded^^aJh ap occasional burst of
anthem, revel-berating' : ■ ,

^ ' Above, about, md underaeati,

iiutil the music

DUiolved them into erataoi«5, • '

And Mmjli ,11 he.wi, before /toi^ eyes.

[Kemler, can you recall a similar ni^l-f .f „,„,

enjoyment ? If you cahnot^n^y^^.

,■**

''/

*'* ?

> »1

Chapter XII.

"•J

* * " For nature here

Wantoned as in her prime, and played at will

Her virpn fancies pouring forth most sweet,

Wild wsfaout rule or art."

Pakadisb Lost.

Two days had passed since the Triagain
had entered the Sdgueney, and our voyagers
akeady felt ennuye, the more so, as the
necessary refitting went on but slowly ;
Annes}ey therefore proposed to the ladies, a
boat excursion of a few miles up the river, to
which they readily assented, and having
obtained the use of a gig from the master, was
making preparations for their voyage, when
he encountereid Van, ^vJm), despite his wounds
and the surgeon's qrders to remain quiet,
seemed to have discovered the secret of
perpetual jnotion. Nothing could be mow

ucceptable to the skipper than the pro

»•

ALTHAir.

179

PAitADliK Lost.

Anne ley (find,„g ^ ^^ determined to roV

-gad avail hi:™elf.ofhis local knowS
Tie boat; was .tored with the „ecei

' -ngbemgu, reading ftey staid the 2
wars men, who formed fiererew.maW
the hght boat fly merrily along. TlelndLn

™™erhHdf„iri,3eti„_thesunwasredl-
»en throngh a dark Lorraine g^ the h'nU

-^es of the shores, on eitlferlntr
Uened by a haze genemlly accompanying

bore, as a last Autumnal ofl^ring from a

h« «fold mh„ .hilling embrace. Van
2 ";- judgment than we should have'

pWdnxJagam from behind an overhanging
flbP h.T "" ^' ^""'^ "° their sight

r '1

180

ALTHAM.

wHicH we have endeavoured to descrij^e, as
surrounding the basin in which the Triagain
lay, varied by deep gorges and feathered
cascades, giving exit to the Waters Which fell
amongst the mountains around. For a couple
of hours they stemmed the rapid clu:rent, when

- Annesley proposed to land on a strip of soft
green sward, shaded by immense drooping!
elms and button-wo*d trees, the probable
growth of centuries ; but Van interposed,
guessing that he was pilot, aild promising to
bring them up in a better berth. For half-
an -hour longer he still headed the stream,
when he steered for th^western shore, whicli
w^s there formed by a precipice of stratifiei.]
grey rock, four or five hundred feet in height,
not seemitag to promise at its base so ihch- j

■^r as a resting place for the small foot of one of
the ladies. As they neared it, however, tbey
perceived a perpendicular cleft, of about eight
or ten yards across, arched above, and dark as
Erebus within. Into this. Van steered the
gig. When tliey had nearly reached its I

_ aj)parent enji.' which became dimly visible
when near at hand, they turned into a wiflding'

\ ...

• " » .

C ALTHA3I. • 181

4'.

of the cave to the southward, and again, nearly
at right angles, it trendqd to the Avestward—
opening io their view, a lovely Jake. Here,
Van cried, "oars," to permit them to
contemplate the scene before them. The
foreground of dimly-lighted rocky pillars,
crowned by the frowning arch, framed as it
were the picture. Beyond, was seen a. sipall
blue lake, bordered by a broad margin of
meadow, shaded ^ intervals by vast old
basswood, and drooping elms.— , Near the
farther shore, was an islet of a few acres
extent. -^The existence of such a paradisej
a^iidst'the hoary and cloud-burdened mdum
tains around, 'filled thein with delight and
Yonder; but whSt raised their astonishment
to tjie highest pitc|, was, that the island bore
unequivocal madiifs of being inhabited, for\
light curling column of blue smoke arose from
a habitation th^eon, which was so embowered,
that but part of its roof was visible, peeping
througb the Iw^uriant foliage. Surrounding
the lake, at the distance, of about a mile, and
^^"^^Og to boimd itin, likfi the happy '
-rfifae^Abpsmiail I'rinceT^^^^f^^^

I
t

■'mf''--'-''-

>*!*.

;.i82

ALTHAM.

I'm

world, mouhi^ains were piled in wild confusion
to sucli vast heights, that their grey summits
reflected in the sleeping waters of the lake.

" Pray, (vaptain Van Ransellaer, who the
deuce lives here ; but first, are we safe in
venturing to intrude on yojur acquaintances, if
such they be ? "

** I guess, I would not have brought these
Jyvely gals; if they were ^not." The
applied his gallant refereWe to the
)y a shrug of his dexter-sh<^der, and
ai^^companying glance. " Give way, men,
he added.

Again the gig darted swiftly along, clearing
the caverned inlet, and gliding over the glassy
lake, steering directly for the island ; within a
few yards of wluch they had attained, when a
a bark canoe shot around its southern strand.
Its occupants ceased paddling, on perceiving
the unexpected advent of strangers, and gazed
on them with unconceaTed wonder. The
boats were within a few yards, and theii
crews obtained a full view of each other. The
canoe was navigated by two girls, in the dawn
ofeMy WfiSafi^ood^; l;tieir colour was irtart

ALTHAM.

188

olive, through which sHone the bright flush to '
which exercise had given birth; their eve^
of bnlhant jet, were shaded by long an^
equaUy dark fringes ; whilst masses rf raven '
hair hung in wavy luxuriance, over their
sun^mbrowned but lovely shoulders, and
dresses of bright coloured cotton.' Native '
had taught these her chil<lren, to fashion the
latter, so as to leave " every beauty free," and
no artiste could have devised a more becomin/i

costume. • Their oval countenances were neither
m form or coloming strictly Indian, yet the
stamp ol the Eastern^igin of the wandering " '
tabes was dearly to be distinguished. For '
«.me moments, theyjcnelt in statue-hke quiet
I m the canoe, when ]she who was in the
bow, suddenly turning to her sister, cried
"Ichinapi* Van," whifhwas responded to, by
f exclamation of joy ; and each, at the same
moment, dipping her paddle into-the water
they shot atongside.the gig. ^etwixt them
anrt the Skipper,, greetings were exchanged in
a strange compound of Indian, French, and
lankee. They no longer cnt^rtonH fhr

* White man— European.

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184

ALTHAM.

least doubt that our party were friends, ]but

stepped lightly on board, mooring then* canoe

by its Basswood pilnter, and' chatting away

with Van, in their mingled language, to which

our worthy responded as best he might ; but

even amongst Indians, the woman would be

hard to find, who should wait long for an

answer. Thus the conversation knew no halt,

until one of the girls, turning her gUttering

eyes, encountered those of Isabella. An

exclamation of surprise, directed her sister's

thither also. A pause ensued — which she who

appeared the elder, broke, asking Van-^

" Ichinapi squaws — eeh?" The Skipper

nodded assent ; and both the children of

nature, after a timid second glance, and a

courtesy which had done honor to a refined

European dra\\dng-room, kissed the. ladies on

either cheek, and seated themselves at their

feet. Meanwhile the gig approached, and

touched their islet shore ; conducted by their

hostesses, they landed, and were led to their

dwelling. The walls were formed of the%ide

trunks of the pine and cedar ; but much

taste tad been displayed ttt th& selection ^ »s^i

ALmiVM.

185

site, and its structure. It occupied a southern
slope, the turf on which was short, and soft as
velvet. Huge old trees spread their protecting
limbs above and around, amidst which, the
steep gable of the cottage appeared, embowered
mtk the rich crimson of the Indian vine, alid
the vivid green of the wild cucitmber, which
together, almost hid the rugged material of
the walls. The interior of this sylvan dweUiug
corresponded with its outward appearance.
The floor and ceiling were formed of the same
material as the waUs;.but the former were
neatly hewed, and around the latter were
suspended many a trophy which would have
been ornamental in a more courtly mansion.
The broad majestic spoils of the moose and^
elk, the shaggy peltries of the bear, wolf, fox,
and racoon, with the finer furs of the otter,'
beaver, fisher, and mink, adorned the wafls ,'
whilst the floor was covered with the smoke-
tanned skins of animals of less value. Nor
were indications of a taste more refined than
that of the mere hunter absent— a guitar hung
over the chimney, an d a highly finished ebony
Arte, was pla^jcd^ across ^deer's horns inlts ~

186

ALTHAM.

vicinity. Arms, with hunting and fishing
gear of every description abounded, mingled
in studied and picturesque confusion, with
leggings of scarlet cloth, and mocassins richly
braided with bead and quill work, the
products of the idle^ hoUrs of their darfeyed
hostesses. Stretched in lazy, enjoyment before
the hearth, lay an old hound of pure l^lood,*
whose dim eyes and faded instincts rendered
him unable longer lo accompany the lord of
this island-bower to the field, but whose
comfort, in liis old age, appeared to be
studiously attended to. Perceiving how our
party were accompanied, after. UH^ perused
them for a moment, he welcomed mem with a
wag of his large tail, and restumed his posture
of repose. .^»

Van landed his stores from the boat ; and
with the assistance of the Indian girls, a table
was quickly spread) to which, incited by the
sharp appetite acquired by their row, our
friends were about to seat themselves, when
the Skipper asked, — " Should we not wait for
the master of the house."
— "Unquestionably,*' replied AnSesl^ j **^but

ALTIIAM.

187

xntil this instant, wc were not in the least
aware of the existence of that gentleman."

" Well, I nfever! bi.t you Britishers think
of nothing else, when you are hungry, but
feedu,. Howsomever, I will go and call hio.."
And taking a bugle from the wall, he ascended
the brow of the hiU on which the cottage stood,
and elicited some horridly discordant notes
^"Amongst your Varied qualifications.
Captain Van Ransellaer, i did not know that -
music was one-pray where did you learn to
play the bugle?" *» <*.-,.
\^ " None of your humbug, mas'ter Jemmy "
mi Van, as he again hung up his instrument j
i guess, I made as much noise 'as you could.
Hark I tis answered aL*\dy.;' The distant
"port of a rifle was heard, when one of the
g»b left them, and entering the canoe, shot
te across to the shore, whence they soon siw
to retummg accompanied, as Van informed
them, by their host. He was habited in the
usual hunting garb of the Aborigines, save
tnat a cap rf crimson cloth was substituted for
the feathered head-dresa, a frock of elk skin

n*rr-tar**8eiyfltted Bis tall elastic figureV and though

.,ia.^i;a,..

188

ALTHAM.

kl"

his hair, was of suow, his step had lost none of
the springiness of youth.^-His leggings and
mocassins were of the same material as his
hunting shirt ; his waist was girt with a sash
of scarlet worsted, the fringed ends pf which
reached the knee ; resting in the hollow of his
arni, he bore a long rifle. Although his dress
and equipment were Indian, his features were
of the noblest European caste. His blue eyes
were bright and searching as those of an
eagle ; and whilst the moustache and whiskers
were snowy as his hair, their long lashes were
of silken jet. Exposure to the fiery heat of
the forest summer, and the fierce blasts of the
almost arctic winter of northern Canada, had
bronzed and furrowed his face ; biit when he
courteously raised his cap, in return to their
greetings, it disclosed a forehead smooth and
white as polished ivory. Such was their host,
to whom Van ^troduced his party, addressing
hun by his Indian name, as :Manetb-wassing.*
The old man welcomed them to his island-
home, with a grace which would have been
conspicuous at a court. Van and he seemed

THc sj^irU Bptialttl:

i I

I,; ■'.

ALTHAM.

189

to be well kno^Ti to each othei^ ; and althougli.
he must have been astonishWl, to see the
Yankee Skipper so accompaniea, he asked no
questions. They re-entered liis bower-hke
cottage ; and during dinner, Van entertained
him with a recital of the mishaps of the
Tnagam. The narrative seemed to interest
him almost painfully-more than once he
sighed ; and Mary declared, afterwards, that
she saw him brush away a tear ; and that she
noticed his (iaughters furtively glancing their
ghttenng d^b^eyes at each other, and at their
father. Scenes long gone % were recalled to
him by Van's tale ; nearly half a century had
since passed—most eventful to the world but
to him as a watch in the night-.it seemed but
as the dream of a morning hour. At its
commencement he was:young, noble, happy,
and nch ; at its cjose, old and nameless, but
as regarded the wealth which hebadneamed
to value, still rich, and %spiee inisfortunes,
which for a time had nearly borne him down,) ^^
happy. He remained in pensive sUence for
^me time after Van had en ded his f^U but „

the Skipper interrupted his musing.

"■PHIiiP

■\.

190

altuXm.

*' Come, old boy," he said, " I know you
have a good yam to spin. I have heard
something of it#froin our red-skinned-friends,
but they aint fipnd of talk. Your log is worth
the readin, arid we have an hour to spare —
so bowl along." /

" My histoid if a long and painful one, yet
with n(4 nmch in it of interest to strangers.—
It is at your service, nevertheless."

The ladies had feared, that Van's rough,
although not rudely meant curiosity, might
have proved offensive. They had shared, but
were careful not to express a similar feeling.
Perceiving that it would gratify their host^
they now joined in the prayerj^that he should
recite his story.

" Such as it is, you shall hear it, ladies. You
are not to expect striking adventures ; but the
scenes wherein I have been an actor will prove
novel, and to you it may possess an interest
foreign to its mere tenor. You must excuse
me, if with the garrulity of an old man, I
dwell on occurrences which are burned jn by
subsequent misfortune. If I read your hearts
bright, T ^ount on your sympathy.^^^oSg^

■■•»

.<;/;

ALTHAM.

191

Since I should Imve blushed to thmk aloud
M now it gratifies me. If the beginning of
my narrative seem puerile_be it so. It is fn
cluldhood and early youth that ou/souls a^
pm*st. freshest from the hands of our beneficent
On^mator, who, when he caUed the universe
into existence by the word of his power
declared, that every thing which it contained
was very good; and.li'ho still, when a new
immortal is bom, to play his part in the world
manifests the sam^ kind care, and sends him
forth pure and unsullied. Alas! that this
punty does not continue ouis — who may
fathom the wherefore. It gives me pleasure
to accede to your )^hes. I know not that I
shall be able to point out beacon-marks ,to
guide you; b^t I do not believe,. that the
•areer of any on? person can be truly told
mthout furnishing some leading points which
may serve a subsequent voyager on the ocean
of life. At all events, you shaU have a tme
■"nation of the few joys, and many sorrows,
winch the retrospect of an old man's life
presents.

V::

Chapter XIII.

" The? there were sighs, the deeper for suppreuion ;

And stolen glances, sweeter for the theft ;

And burning blushes, though for no transgression ;
' Tremblings when met, and restlessness when left :

All these are little preludes to possession.

Of which young passion cannot be bereft.

Btron.

I WAS~tHc^adet of one of the proudest houses
of France . My eldest brother , was at an
institution in Paris, exclusively devoted to
those predestined by fortune to figure iji the
grand monde. I was educated at a religious
seminary in the neighbourhood of my father's
chateau, fifty miles from the capital, bemg
destined for the church, the great resource of
pauperised nobility ; as under the tonsure, the
prince and peasant were on a. footing, whilst
the greatest did not deem it shame to call an
abbe brother. 'Tis true, that we of the
^riviledged classesv entered iter sacred precincts

ALTHAtr.

193

under far different auspices from our Immbler
fellows; but from my earliest days, I truly felt
wlwt so many feign, the « Nolo^piscbpari ; "
for which dignity, I have no doubt, ky parents
intended me—whilst I caviUed at their want
of taste. • The army was equally open to the
younger sons of the nobility ; but alas ! I had"
another brother, also my elder; and whilst he
was to bear the colors in the van of battle, I
was to be merely of the c/iurc/i militant. So '
natural and fitting did this seem to my
acquaintance and friends, that, although my
soul rebeUed against the career aUotted me, I
felt obliged to yield myself, as best I might, ^
to the prospect of dignified ease. I might
have made an excellent bisho^ad it not been
for circumstances totally unseen. It so
occurred, that close to the place allotted us in
our parish church, (of which the head of our
school was the cure,) w^s that chosen by the
family of a noble, who§e patrimony adjoined
that of our house. "' Unfortunately for my
father's plans, as fegarded^me, his neighboiu:
had a daughter, a hw years my junior. How

FrfBC%, at this tipmentrnememberleFSr

VOL. II. *^^ N

.■i.st]*v- '

.yXh'

11)4

ALTHAM.,

childt— even her dress, at. ten years old. The
very bonnet of white beaver which she wore,
the dress of blue satin, and its skirt of virhite,
are as plainly before /me, as though I saw
them now. Sometimes I fanci<^d, that when "^
»iir glances met, the thrpbhingt of^^y heart
were reciprocated — at others, that I was
laughed at, We met but in thftt old church
onc^ in the w?6k ; and my happihess, for the
ensuing six days, depended on what I deemed
I then read in Adele's eyes. \

' . Eyes beaming oft mth sunlight glances,
Trembling like the ray that dances
In the ruffled lake ; yet darting
/ Looks of tender love at parting*

For yes, sh^ loved me too ; could "I then have
known it, how blessed I should have b^en;
but the revelattion was reserved for a day
many years after. Let the children of a soul-
bartering world scoff at 'us if they list. They
should rather sigh, that true affection is scarce
, knownamongst them, s^ve by name ; and that
if she find a home, it is but amongst those at
whom they dare to laugh — those few whom
m v e i cad a t a assoeiate 4heir destinies^^

i.(

.M«v;fe:;4..>is»

ALT^Altf.

195

.thenul^gh, if. they may, after lives of misery
>ave avenged their guiltj prostitution of the
most sacred of eafthly ties. ,^^

Years fl^w \^; the dreWifig school-boy to
whom I have introduced yeu, b^Qame a man •
the usual period of ordination arrived, but I
found means to defer what I felt not only an
irrevocable severance from one who still
occupi^ my wJjole soul, but as an awful
mockery of Heaven, when an e>«nt occuired,
which changed my father's intentions. My
eldest brother was killed in a duel ;^ and the
soldier-^as recalled from his regiment, liis '
life bemg now considered of far, too gi^eat '
consequence to be^azarded. *

For generations the head of our house had
served his„ country in the senate, aridonaof
Its branches had been devoted to her armies.
The latter was now to be my'deatinjr
Heaven forgive me, if I did' not deeply sorrow'
for my brother ; from infancy- we had been
8eparated,--and whilst his young days had ^
passed amongst thje gaieties o^ the capital, mine ' '
>d been spent i^aa gloomy cloister. I c'^ul'd

H^ielp feriin^ that hft death removeTan^

ik / ig,i->{,<^,' 't

196

ALTHAM.

obstacle from my patb. When smnmoned to
Paris, by my' father, my heart beat wildly at
the' thought, that there I might meet Adele ;
I also longed to see my remaining brother,—
we too had been much severed since childhood,
but I remembered his frank kindness during
the short time we had been permitted to spend
together, and my heart warmed to him. In a
few days after I had learned my eldest brother's
deathV I found myself at the gate of my father's
hotel at Paris. I had never as yet been there.
A crowd of Laquais in deep mourning, filled
the vast hall, a^cf on my being announced,
ranged themselves respectfully as I passed.
I was shown into a splendid ante-room, an
upper servant going to inform my father of
my arrival. I looked around me, in almost
childish wonder, at a magnificence to which
I was wholly unaccustomed; for my father

reserved his state for Paris, — his chatepf , on

tf _

his estate, being comparatively plain. , I was
not long left to ray soUtary musings ; the same
domestic conducted me through long ranges
of apartments, to his lord's reception room.

My father certainly was a stately old man— ■ He

•'^■^&.^ (

ALTHAM.

197

every inch a. noble. He rose with studied
pohteness to receive me, but his courtesy was
as fngid as though I had been a, stranger- I
know not that I expected that it would have
been otherwise, but I could scarc^ restrain a
hysterical desire to laugh or c^ On my
entrance, my attention was not so absorbed
by my father, as to prevent my noticing that
he was not alone. Beside his chair stood a
tall and handsome young man, ffabited in the
undress uniform of a chasseur regiment.
After my parent's chilling greeting, I looked
towards, but did not recognise him, until, as
the old gentleman re-seated himself, he sprung
towards me, saying, " Db you not know me
Louis." I could scarcely believe, that in H^
noble looking fellow, I beheld my brother
Henri. I threw myself in^o bis arms, finding
with unutterable joy, that at least one of my
kin possessed a heart warm and affectionate
as my own. 7

Our father looked on with a but half
pleased expression, and took snufl".

"You should jemembe^-gea t le m e ft/

He pansed. ■< Ah ! ah !-'tis well, my sons."

T • M

* ^if ^

198

ALTHAM.

he said, relaxing, and the cold expression of
his eye softening,—" 'tis thus, brothers should
meet, after long severance. And now, as you
have, doubtless, much to say to each other,
adieu, until dinner."

Henri led me to his- room.
" Oh ! Louis, how I envy you. You are
tp be a soldier, whilst I, God pity me, have
suddenly grown a party of such importance,
that I must not breathe the free air of heaven.
I often ^ed at the abommable life poor
Charles and yodled— now, it is my turn."

I could n##rain from smiUng ;; it seemed
to me so odd, that Henri should associate in
his mind the gay life of a young noble in Paris,
which I had often heard my companions sigh
for, with the gloomy one I had led. " Aye,
you may laugh, he continued, but never
brother grieved more deeply than I do. Had
Charles lived, how different had been my lot.
I am only a few days in Paris, and already I
am suffocating, dying."

" You may survive perhaps, to find it,
nevertheless, not quite intolerable," I replied,

smiling again.

*i,;*ii

:'^v^i>-■V.l■-"■^*■y£'A^

ALTHAM.

199

" It is impossible, I tell you. Do you
know, Louis, you are a handsome fellow, and
will be superb in uniform. Come, let me
metamorphose you."

I yielded to my good brother's whim, with
a glow of pleasure, at the compliment he paid
my appearance ; do not suppose me vain, when
I say, that I thought his opinion delightfully
true, as I glanced a|; myself in a mirror, after he
had habited me in a fuU suit of his uniform.

" What a shame, to have dreamt of making
a shaveling of you; 'tis as bad, however, to
want me to become a chamberlain, or some
such gilded tinsel thing, in the palace of our
king, which I utterly abhor. Louis! Louis!
I wish we could change places."

" And so do I, Henri, with all my heart,
since you also will it."

My brother stared at me with astonishment.
"WiU you permit me to ask?" He said,
after a pause, — " Why ? "

" Can you not guess ? "

" No, that can I not, unless your folly may
^puted JoJgnorM^ ^^^^^^^

wKch is in store for you."

i.v;iv.*jWa'W. t.'i'^

200

ALTHAM.

" Niire-tenths of the world would be more
likely to laugh at your want of knowledge of
the ,world, than at mine, my brother. It is
not the inheritance of poor Charles' wealth
and station that I however covet — at least for
themselves. Do. you forget Adele? From
almost infancy 1 have worshipped her ; and,
although, as a soldier of fortune I shall be as
little likely to be received as when an intended
priest, it would be a far different matter were
I representative of our house."

" Positively Louis, you are most childishly
doating. Bah! folly, man; one campaign,
and all this nonsense will be forgotten."

" You, Henri, have never loved — that is
plain. * He jests at scars that never felt a

wound.' "

" Pardon me, I have, at least an hundred
times ; and a very pleasant amusement it is
at 'an idle time. Never loved! and I am
now— let me see— twenty-five. Apropos of
your Adele,— she is now one of the belles of
Paris, and an amazing parii. Our father is
half in love with her I think. He was singing

her praises, at the moment of your

ALTHAM.

201

know not Whether her estate or her pc^onal
attrac ,ons have won him, but certain it is, that
he talked to n.e for a whole hour about her "
I felt a sensation of pain, which almost
prevented my breathing, as I answered _

: ^ "Trrlf '"'''* ""''• H™".-b"t it Las
been for life.

"■ Why that moonstruck air man, you need
not be jealous of the old gentleman ; or-ah I
now I see it,-you think he has an eye on the
My for me. Cheer up : they don't marry
M-grown gentlemen at present, without their
o«^n consent ; and I would not supplant you
for the world.

In my light hearted brother's society the
time of our close mourning passed pleasantly
away I received my appointment to a
regiment at the time quartered in this colony
my fat|^r wishing that I should serve abroad
A Henn s request, he permitted me to remain
a few months at Paris, previously to joininK
I went into the glittering world, which had

lor me but one attraction— Adele. Wemet-
she receiv ed me kindly, as aiLQld

TIEar never forget the first time I led her

'j0^

&4':i:^'*.','.

202

ALTHAM.

out to dance. I had carefully conned a

conversation, sufficiently long to have lasted

for hours, but I was dumb — the thought of

how stupid she must suppose me, provoked

me exceedihgly, and added to my confusion ;

of this she appeared not to take notice, and

endeavoured to draw my attention to the scene

around us— but absorbed as my faculties were,

I drank in thq music of her voice, scarcely

comprehending what she said ; and answered

her, I suppose, absurdly enough. I remember,

that she asked me, which costume in the room

I most admired ? I replied, her white beaver

bonnet, spencer of blue satin, and white frock.

She stared, and blushed sUghtly j no wonder,

for her toilette was as recherche as art could

devise. I sudenly awoke to the ridicule I had

incurred, and was but the more covered with

confusion, so that the dance being concluded,

and we having mingled with the promenaders

through the rooms, I could not even hear what

she said-^until, tapping my arm, she said,

playfully —

" So. L ouis, yog still remember my white
"bonnet and blue epencer." " tell me," ^te

ALTHAM.

203

added, again smUing and blushing, « whether
It has been of them you have dreamt for the
last hour ; for, truth to tell, you have been less
awake to the gaiety around us, than I could
have conceived it possible to imagine a rustic
to whom Pari» is a novelty."

Adele had touched a chord which thriUinsrlv
vibrated. Although the renewal of our
acqumntajice had been so recent, I felt at full
liberty to pour forth the fond recoUections of
our chJdhood, on which my heart had existed
ever smce. A crowd is the deepest sohtude—
the remark is tril«, but true. I became
e!oquent,-eve,y fondly remembered incident
was vividly dwelt on ; in half an hour we were
on terms as friendly as though we had never
been separated, and if I alone spoke, I could
not but perceive that my reminiscences were
not displeasing. My brother fearing, as he
afterwards said, that I should be remarked
ctamed Adele's hand ; and I retired to a
moon-lit balcony, with flying pulses and »
lightened heart.

i^wejBtumed home that night. JHenri—

Tell mc," JleT m^me on what had taken place. « I never

iSfefc. 'ii?:,,^-(i

204

ALTHAM.

knew how ridiculous the* blind god could make
even a handsome young fellow like you, until
to-night ; positivelyy during that dance, you
looked the very incarnation of Momus,— but
neither was I aware of the change jvhich his
happier mood could effect. You should be
more cautious, Louis ; you know, your lady love
is a ward of the king's, and his majesty may
not, perhaps, be too well pleased, when he

learns the devotion of Monsieur Louis de ,

sub-lieutenant. However, courage, boy; you
have made an impression, and that is half the
battle-7-it will be quite selon les regies, that
you should wait on her to-morrow. We will go
together; never fear, I shall not be in the wiay,—
and you can open the campaign in form."

Day after day we vi^ted Adele, much to
the satisfaction of our father, who never
dreamt of my presumption — nor was my time
ill employed. She, had not forgotten days
gone by. Why weary you ? She promised to
be mine. I need not dwell on the dehght
with which I learned, that her remembrance
and love had equalled my own. Months

passed as moments, and the day at which T

\.\

ALTHA

205

Must join my regiment drew near, when our
father on returning from a long interview
mth the kmg, smnmoned ns to a conference.
He told us,, that he had seen wi'th joy Henri's
growing attachment to Adele, and had just
received the most gracious accession to his
proposals for her, fram the king, who had left
aU the arrangements to him -these, he
intunated, should be on a scale befitting his
rank and that of the lady. He dwelt on the
magnificent addition to our family estate which
her property would afibrd ; and concluded
by saying, that the kingdom did not ofi'er a
lady whom he shoiild so gladly welcome as his
daughter.

Wen his drift became apparent, I felt the
Wood rush to my heart, and thought I should
have fainted. I had certainly betrayed myself
,but for a gesture of Henri's, admonishing me
to caution and self-control. He thanked my
father, for the goodness he had manifested in
thus mteresting himself on Ms behalf, but
stated, that he really had not thought of
marrying the lady ; that thrir .^T.iintnnCc
had been short; and that, in fact, Jhaftgh he

.:M'- • v. V.

206

ALTHAM.

thought her society most agreeable, and had
been always most courteously received, he was
not vain enough to suppose himself likely to
be accepted ; and ended, by praying, that
matters should not be preicipitated.

Our good parent, who had evidently
expected the most rapturous thanks, 8hrugg|d
his shoulders, and took snuff in vast quantities ;
he, nevertheless, thought his part done, and
considered, thdt howete ungratefully Henri
might choose "to conceal his partiality, it was
but the whim ctf a young man. As to the lady,
he could not conceive that any objection could
arise on her part, but agreed with Henri, that the
deference of a sufficiently prolonged acquaint-
ance, to meet her views, should be conceded.

When we had^regained our own apartments,
Henri gavevvent\to laughter which he had
hitherto suppressed with difficulty. " The cool-
ness with which the old gentleman .wanted to
marry me, without eveli asking my cOnscnt, is
most amusing. Now, Louis, do you envy me"

1 ^^^1^ answered, deep^ hurt at what I considered

^HjH Ilia ill.fimPil TTlirtll

J -i , > Sit t .,«?»v '.^ ,,J,V.u**Ji *»ili. 4..»,iS.'>J>'A«^-A£l.Sl!?'^lS'Si

AI/THAM,

207

Jest, he said. "Why, boy, 1 never was
more serious in my life; I can't help langhing
.t our gocrd father, though I know I should
not do so.. Why should you envy me. who
kas to remain- here, and brave the anger of
our fether and the king; whilst you, luAy
%, are going to^SS a erack regiment,
oarO^ng wijh you, as a fellow campaigner the
very handsomest woman in France ? Faith
were yp out of the question, I think, I really
should^ have obliged the old gentleman, and
-Bjamed her myself." ^

" Are you mad, Henri ? *'
" Not in the shghtest degree that I can
perceive,~although to b^ sane, is certain!/ to
be remarkal)ly singular in this world of ours
Adele IS willing to be your wife ; you, I rather
thmk, are a consenting party; there n^eds but
B third~a priest. Leave that to me."
vl* ^"* the king, and our father ? "
"Once you are married, what of them •
neither of them can unbind a knot of a priest's
t^ng; ,f they could, their hves Would be no
I *sinecure8.**

-WBteiirasSiKa to our joint persuasions;

\ ''

%■

■"-?5^^~

208

ALTIIAM.

my brother laughingly declaring, that slie
must make her election between us — as if she
refused me, he was determined to h^Ve her
himself. By his' exertion, every thing^ m
prepared ; and the day before I left Earis,
folded Adele to my heart — my wife !

Kd.

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;„ —

-^«- — - —

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JiA riiiitin

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iL^A^lSsiA^M.

^m f* w

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, that slie 1

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'g^wM

to h^Ve her M

thingj^ ^^d^l

left Paris, rB

'.if «

^_.

CiUPTER XIV.

" And first one universal 0riek, then rushed
Louder than the loud ocean— like a crash
9f echoing thunder ; and then aU was hushed
Save the wild winds, and the remorseless dash
^Of billows— but at interrals these gushed,
' Accompanied with a convulsive splash ;
A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry
Of some strong swimmer in his agpny."

Ti^E ship in which I was ordered to proceed
to Canada, was to sail from Havre. It was
decided, that Adele and I should procefed
thither separately, in order to misdirect
sf Mion ; Henri taking the charge of having
my wife safely put on board, when the vessel
should be ready for sea. All occurred to our
wishes ; the anchors were at the bows, and a
towering cloud of c^vass wooed a fan: north-
east wind, when I received her there. Ei«
night, our beautiful Ilrance was seen but as W

VOL. n. o ]

* >'.

* >=

J»A*»* !.•-(.-<■

■iV'

210

ALT HAM.

time that either of us had beheld the ocean-
grand, mysterious, ilUmitable, it reared its
curhng billows around us. We saw the sun
sink beneath its waters —

" Robed ill flame and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries digbf ; "

; ^^ ■ '

leaving for a while a rosy tinned glory behind.

; The calm beauty of twilight ensued— as it

faded, one by one the pale stars shone forth,

increasing in brilliancy and number, until they

sparkled in myriads, spangling with gem-like

fretwork the dark mantle of old night.

Together we saw the " fair silver-shafted

queen leave her ocean couch, and spread

around us the witchery of her soft radiance.

We Hngered on deck through the silent

watches, in a trance of exquisite enjoyment,

until she had assumed her " highest noon."

The fondest dreams of our childhood were

reaUzed — we felt the "sober certainty of

waking bliss,"— -we belonged to each other.

Still to perfect our happiness, we pictured to

^-imrselves onr*future d welling in some boweiy

cottage, far from the " busy hum of men,"

.if'l-- :■*

-.fs-18|t',l

ALTHJiM.

211

beside one of the mighty rivers of the western
world. During that happy voyage our every
dream was poetry and romance. Adgle loved
to paint a glowing future ; and when, like
clouds, the rugged moi^tains of Newfoundland
rose to our view, discovering as we approached,
deep vallies, in which lay* perpetual snows,'
when we passed between the Alpine capes,'
and entered the mighty St. Laurence, it
seemed to us but an announcement that we
had almost reached bur, destined home. A
swift east wind again urged on our flying
ship amidst clouds of fog and mist, which
rendered the land but dimly and occasionally
visible, and the vast billows, hurriedf her on
their foaming crests to still more fiirious
speed^alas ! 'twas to her doom. Adele and
I stood together on the lofty poop, watching
the angry heaving of the sea, and the aiiy
I petrels as they now glanCted upwards to avoid

* In other countries perpetual sno,., are on the mountain
tops. I have passed the Newfoundland coast at aU seasons,
Md have never seen the vaUies without sndw, although the
tbcrmomcter often stood at 80°. These vaUies ar« in.»..„ ^ljL

.; and whilst storms sw^^i^he hills, they then accumulate
l»now to a prodigious depth. ,

,:.J.

212

ALTHAM.

the curj of a wave, now plunged into the
yawning abyss betwixt two mountains of
water, with untiring wing seeming to sport
amidst the " fleecy and feathery foam," — we
little dreamt that these were the last moments
we were to enjoy together. We felt a shock
like that of an earthquake, which hurled us
both forward against the poop railing ; another
still more violent succeeded, and ere I could
regain my footing and assist Adele to rise, the
masts had gone overboard, and the waves were
breaking over the ship (which now lay with
her side exposed to their force,) with terrific
violence. We could see some struggling
wretches still clinging to the reft rigging, ajid
endeavouring to lash themselves to the stumps
of the- masts, — ^but our attention was quickly
drawn from their agonies to our own fearful
situation.

The sea now broke over the poop as the
ship settl^ on her rocky bed ; some few others
shared its precarious platform. I cannot say
how long we remained there — it jnay have
been hours, or it may be that it was but for
minutes. My agonies were intense. Was

■'.^''.i^/.V^.'

.H,,.f.

ALTHA^.

213

this then the bliss I had promised my Adele -
was It for this that I had tempted iier to leave'
aU that life could offer? My arm still
surrounded her, and sustained her fragile form
as each successive wave swept over us more
fiercely than its predecessor. Adele looked
calmly on the almost certain death that
threatened us; and during the occasional lulls
of the storm, I could hear her loved voice in
soothmg accents endeavouring to give me
fortitude. I pressed her more fondly to my
breast, but could not speak. By degrees the
ship broke up, and the rail to which I clung
with one hand, whilst I sustained her with the
other, became loosened-a mountain sea broke
and carried us with it away over the midnight
deep. Oh ! the fearful horror of that night
Agam the lapse of time is confused— we drifted
at the mercy of the tempest ; my senses were
giving way, still I was conscious that my wife
was with me ; a dreamy feeling that we
were wandering together in pleasant sun-lit
meadows-a sensation of blissful existence,' I
knew not where, had s to l en ov e r m e , when J—
was for a moment recalled to the dread realities

■■Jk*a..»-.-

214

ALTHAM.

around, by being dashed against something— •
with instinctive effort I grasped at it, letting
go the railing which had borne us across the
abyss-^I dug my fingers into^ what I rightly
supposed a pebbly strand ; the/ wave which had
cast me on it receded. Hope awoke within
me, and vnth a tremendous effort regaining
my feet, I staggered a few paces up the beach,
feeling that it was for life — ^for that life which
I valued a thousand times more than my own.
For a few short moments more, mind asserted
its supremacy, and I reached what I felt was
straggling herbage, which I knew must be
above the high water reach of the waves ; on
this I sank down, with a fearful shivering.
Oh, God! I cried in anguish, can this be
death. — Adele ! Adele ! what is to become
of her?

When consciousness revisited me, I felt the
genial warmth of the sun ; for a time I knew
not where I was, nor remembered in the least
the occurrences of years. I was again a
school-boy in fancy. Adele smiled on me in
our little church. I luxuriated in the blessed
recollection; and dreamt, as I then used, oF

•V-

ALTHAM.

215

years that were to come. Again we were in
that chiii'ch, and the 'mellow tones of the
organ blended with the soft warbling of the
Choristers ; and my soul was raised to ecstacies
of devotion, as I listened to her childish voice '
miagling in the hymn. Alas ! that sweet
voice^ould never again thrill my soul. Oh !
could I then have died, how blessed had been
my lot. Now, a dread gush of memory, like
a fearful dream, startled me— -I endeavoured
to open my eyes— for a time after I succeeded
my vision was obscured as by floating black
clouds. At length I saw. A snowy hand lay
on mine ^ a bridal ring glistened on the
taper finger. An agony of resumed thought
gave me power over my numbed and wounded
frame, and with fierce energy I started up, but
again fell to the ground, drawn down by the
weight of Adele, whom with a death like grasp
my arm still surrounded. Now I remembered
all. 1 still held her,— but it needed not a
second glance at her " chill changeless brow,"
to tell me that death was there. I bent over
her in agony which human nature could not

long endure, and I blessed that death which I

■^'

m.::^j .

■tk

216

ALTHAM.

felt assured was now not far distant, and
which should restore me to her I had lost. —
Agtiin my senses reeled, and I sunk exhausted
by her side.

After an insensibility which must have lasted
many days, I again felt conscious of suffering.
Glimpses of the realities surrcunding me were
mingled with the delirium of fever ^ dusky
forms flitted around me, uttering strange
sounds, yet kindly ministeriiig to iny neces-
sities ; beside my couch two were ever
present-^ an old\ian, with thin hau? and
deeply furrowed brow; ani a child, with
glittering eyes, and dark eastern features
shaded by a- flood of raven hair, which
descended in 'lustrous curla^ver her shoulders
and bosom. Through many a long dsef and
dreary night they sat by moj-.ever ready to
give me cool drink, or fan my burning brow.
By sjow degrees I recovered, and found myself
the inmate of an Indian wigwam. My kind
hosts had seen the wreck, on, as I suppose, the
morning after our disaster, and found me a
waif of the ocean, on the island. It was stiil
a long timS ere I co\3d question them. I at

•■• i'.

M >^*

•%♦

■#

ALtHAM.

217

length recovered sufficient strength to totter
to the door, leaning on my nurse, who still
manifested the same'devoted attention. The
hut which I had occupied was one of- a village,
of the inhabitants of which my host was the
chief. I dared not ask concerning her on
whom all my thoughts dwelt ; I remembered,
with agony, the last momentary glance that
had stricken me to the* earth, when I
ascertained, that the eye which had ever met
mine with glad fondness was for ever closed—
that the hand which rested ou. mine was
cold— and, that the heart which had throbbed
with love, should beat no more. It was still
many days before I found myself equal to ask
my constant companion, what they had done
with her dear remains. She led me in silence
from the viUage ; even the little children
hushed their noisy pUy as we passed; gazing'
in pity as it seemed on the sorrow^stricken
stranger, whom the sea had thrown on their
shores. With slow and trembling steps I
accompanied Ala,* to where a dense grove of
^^ shade d a stream of rapidl y flowing^

• The fawn. ^

::e&..

^'-"'

m;^:-'

■:§ssr

218

ALTHAM.

feft"'-

crystal ; beside it were the graves of the tribe ;
at a little distance from them, was one of more
recent date — wrea^ of fresh flower^ were
scattered over the lately placed turf. T needed
not to be told whose last resting place it was.
I threw myself upon itj^in ah ecstacy of grief.
My young n^rse stood by, in silent but deeply
felt sympathy; and after permitting me to
indulge the first transports of my grief, gently
but authoritatively led me back to the village.
Day after day we repaired together to that
lowly grave, which contained all that was
earthly of her who had hitherto bound me to
existence. After a time, Ala then sat for
hours by my side, chanting wild melodies, the
dirge-hke pathos of which well suited the place.
Afterwards, when I understood her language,
she loved to dwell in her song, on the
augeUc beauty of her whom with aflfectipnate
imagination she named Issala.* Sometimes
she sung in wild but sweet poetry, how we
were found together, ,, even the fierce rage of
the ocean being unable to sever uS — ^how the
great\pirit had borne that which was too

ALTj^AM.

211)

bright for kr^i, to happy hunting grounds,
where we Should meet her again, and
mhabit sunny bowers of never fading beauty.
Perceiving that I took a mournful pleasure in
glistening to her simple musici she sung to me
there each day, often giving utterance to
thoughts of an elevated beauty and piety,
closely resembling those of inspired song!
We were thus occupied one day, when the
chief stood before me.

" My brother's soul is sad," he said, " and
'tis well, for the great spirit was angry with
him— the manito was glad, and laid his hand
on my brother. The Wolf was once proud,
for he had seven sons, each of them was a
brave ; his name was great with his people ;
his great father sent him many presents, when
he dug up the hatchet against the Yenglese.
After three summers they smoked and sent
wampum to each other— the hatchet was
buried— they were at peace, and were glad ;
but the Wolf was very sad, for in his lodge he
found but Ala. For many days the young
^^"Qf ^8 people brought him venison, buj

Tie could not eat, (^l^ ^^j^j ^^^^ ^ ^

BitS.%J^3^' ^ i^t^'Ji^iuilZ,

■ •■■', '■■^i'-t -vv;"" y*^'-'* *^-'

220

ALTHAM.

Spns in the happy shunting grounds \Vith his
fathers — darkness was upon an^ around him —
he wandered to their graves, -and looked on
them. The good spirit spoke to him;; and he
heard the voices of his sons — they" \pre very
glad — and the darkness fled from j1ii%pul of
the Wolf, for he knew that he should find
them there when* the great spirit called hnn.
Again he' hunted with his people ; and though
he did not forget his sons, he was happy."

The old chief : spoke vinWl a dignity which
commanded my attention. It is strange, hut
true^ that the part of his address which struck
me most deeply, was, where he spoke 6f his
people's bringing him venison. Foi* months
my every want had been provided for by them.
Strength had returned, and I felt that I should
not be. a torpid burden on their hospitality;'
I followed the chief to his lodge, and asked
to be* allowed to join his young men the next
day. Constant fatigue enabled me to fly from
painful reflection — ^braced my frame, and forced
sleep at night ; still my loss hung heavy upon
me ; and at times, when, during the eagerness
of tlie chase, I had for a moment forgotten^

!/"■

,.L ^ ^ ^h *b ^%

S ^ H

ALTHAM.

:l>21^

I felt as though I had sinned against the
memory of my beloved Adele. The winter
came, and deep snows rendered hunting for a
while impracticable. During the inactivity,
sorrow preyed so deeply upon me, that had it
continued, I must have sunk under utter
despondency ; W a thaw came, foUowed by
an intense frost, and crusted the surface of the
ihm sufficiently to bear a man on snow-shbes.
The tribe set out on a winter ^lunt of the elk.
I was glad to join them.' Having found the
track, with slow but untiring march we
foUowgd, and during the first day once got
sight of our prey. On perceiving his pursuers,
he bounded off with the rapidity: of lightnmg, .
causing the dry snow to fly in wreaths, which
looked like spray ; the treacherous crust gave
way beneath his weight, and he sunk at each
stride to the haunches. For two days we had
foUowed the track, when the Iildians perceived
signs of flagging in the lessened paces of the-,
poor elk, and predicted, that before the next
night, we should come up with him ; but his
endurance of fatigue was greater than they

*Wosed; during the day, indeed, we came

\iA,'s

'i^'dms.

,..,^,..^

22-2,

ALTHAM.

to sevenil'beds ^n the snow where from time
to time he had rested. Earlier than' usual we
halted, and stripping the resinous flakes from
a large shell-barked hicory tree, made torches
of them. We knew that the elk could not be
at any great distance, and the old chief gave
directions as to the route each was to pursue,
retaining me with him. Guided by their
unerring instinct the hunters set out, each for
his destined station. We had ai short rest, of
which indeed I stood sadly in need. After
remaining a sufficiently long time to allow our
people to gain the stations allotted to them,
the phief again led the way, and for an hour
we pursued the track of the dk, hia foot-prints
evincing that he had been aware^that his
pursuers had been more distant than usual.
Before dark we %aw the tops of the saplings
broken off, and the bark stripped, having
served to allay his hunger. Now distant
shouts were heard, and my guide lighted his
torch, ^shouting in reply. We still followed
-the track, and before long, came to a bed from
which altho ugh the paces by wh ich it had been

reached evinced leisiu-e, the founds ^

i^^f-

■%i.

ALTHAM.

223

farther side were as long as those which he
had made on the first day of the chase. Now
through the far arcades of tlie forest a ruddy
light was seen, and the shouts of the .excited
hunters were heard in every direction— thB
circle narrowed— and as the torches approached
us, we could discern every thing around almost
as clearly as by day light. The chief to whom
I still remained close, now directed my
attention, to our quarry. Startled by the lights
and shouts, he stood beneath ^n immense
walnut tree, tramphng the snow, and tossing
his massy antlera— his disteiided nostril and
proud eye showing, that he appreciated but
braved the danger. A peculiar whoop com-
municated Qur discovery tb the other hunters,
who dashed forward, waving their torches
unta the fla^ies brilliantly ' light(?d the whole
scene. The noble trees were branchless for
seventy feet, forming at that 1 height an
unpenetrable leafy canopy, their dark trunks
contrastmg well with the light green foliage ;
beneath, the hunters drew their citcle closer,'
^ dar k eyes flashing in th e t orch hght, like_

ids at the M Wfiant geins: "^ ^^

mU^

0*»

»£

224

ALTHAM.

around in sullen despair. \A volley was
lieari — the immense brute sprung into the
air, and rolled on the ground in a death
struggle, whilst a wild hallo resounded through
the forest. .

ChaI'tier XV.

" Your castle is surprised ; your wives and babes
Savagely slaughtered."

m, ( StIAKKSPKARK.

The winter wore away, and its snows were
followed by a wet and dreary month; after
which, the sun shone brilliantly forth, and the
music of a thousand birds welcomed the
spring, which appeared with the rapidity of
a theatrical change of scene. The Wolf
announced to me, that he should go to Quebec,
to exchange his peltries for necessaries, and
invited me to accompany him \ but I felt no
wish, again to mingle with my countrymen.
Amongst this tribe I was free. I had grown
I accustomed to them; and' in their simple
occupations I found, if not an enjoyment, at
least an excitement which '"

I could not bear to meet either the pitying or

VOL. II. p

:'»;;:

226

ALTHAM.

careless glance of civilized man. I had found

sympathy amongst these happy hunters, and

they had treated me with the most considerate

kindness. Little Ala, too, hung her: head

mournfully when her father spoke ; and when

I declined, lier bright eye and heightened

colour told me that she was glad. The old

chief's countenance also expressed joy.— I

knew that he felt aiFection for me, and had

looked forward to (Jur parting with pain. 1

now thought of Henri ; as to my father, he

had never cared for me ; tut I knew hdt

fondly my brother loved me, and determined

to wTite to him. Whilst I thpught on the

means of communicating with him, it occurred

to me, that in the pocket of the dress in which

I had been cast ashore Were my tablets. I

found them ; and on opening the case, a letter

of introduction to a Quebec merchant, with

which the provident care of Henri had

furnished me, dropped out. I also found

some notes of the bank of France, then

current in the colony. Here, then, were the

niftii^ft o f in acme me asure rep aying tlw

hospitality I had received. I handed them to

ALTHAM.

227

the chief, requesting that he would provide me
with the articles, a Kst of which I should give,
him, and spend the remainder for the benefit'
of his tribe. He had but a slight knowledge
of the value of my notes, but was sufficiently
acquainted with the dealings of his white aUies,
to know that they highly prized such apparently
worthless things. I gave him my letter of
introduction to jjresent, writing thereon in
pencil, a short account of my shipwreck and
loss, and entreating Henrt^s friend not to
make my existence known. I also forwarded
to him a leaf of my tablet, whereon I had
written to Henri, requesting that he would
enclose it to my brother. The Wolf left us,
taking with him a strong party in two canoes—
fragUe vessels to encounter a voyage of nearly
an hundred miles, on that sea-like river.
During their absence, we were busily employed
in hunting and fishing, for now the river
I afforded ample remuneration for an hour, or
two spent in spearing at night, and the deer
thronged the forests. After a few weeks, the
chi ef r et u rn e d, his boats loaded w it h the articles—

which my notes had enabled him to purchase.

&£■:

228

ALTIIAM.

Greater kindness I could not experience than

that with which I had before been treated;

but now I was looked on as a benefactor, and

they sought every opportunity to evince their

consideration and gratitude. They had liow

each a good rifle and its accoutrements— tho^e

dearly loved treasures of the Indian ; blankets,

bright coloured cloth, and beads, filled the

squaws with rapture. I had not forgotten to

order books for myself, to which Henri's friend

had added stationery. He wrote, kindly,

urging me to shake oflf my dislike to civilized

society, -but stating, that my wishes should

govern his conduct. He moreover informed

me, that Henri's letter had covered a credit

for any money I might require. He had

enclosed my notd to Henri, whom he had the

pleasure of meeting in old France, and from

whom he had there experienced much kmdness.

I had now a resource during spare time iipiiy

books, and if I was not happy, I was at least

content. Months rolled by rapidly ; again,

old winter spread his snowy mai^tle over the I

the^avigati
dangefous. Again the elk W&»

hunted; I

ALTIIAM.

229

irience than
en treated;
efactor, and
evince their
jy had now
ents — thosfe
I ; blankets,
, fiUed the
forgotten to
enri's friend
ote-. kindly,
3 to civilized
Lshes should
rer informed
jred a credit
3. He had
n he had the
je, and from
ich kuidness.
e timeiipiiy
[ was at least
idly ; again,
Htle over the |
vof therjyer

sometimes joined in the todsome sport, at
Qthers amused myself with my books. Spring
^me at length, and I looked anxiously for the
chief's return from Quebec, as I hoped to hear
from Henri. As I expected, he brought me a
letter from my brbther. Henri sympathized
deeply with me ; but thought; that in the busy
world I sho^d be more hkely to recover my
spirits. Mi/ch Ee told me of the dull hfe he
led, which,/he said, he would gladly exchange
even for Jine m the wilderness. Our father
wearied him, by constantly reminding him of
the high Istation he filled, and prcyectihg
alliances, e^h of which was more hateful than
that last suggested. He pined for active life,
and could not , understand, how I who had it
in my power, could bury myself in the desert.
He thought it best to be silent about me to
our father, who had made up his mind that I'
was dead, without evincing any very desperate
grief about my loss. He was extremely
irritated at Henri's missing poor Adele's
estates ; I was therefore, if not quite forgotten,
re mem bered only yith. ^ angry feeling.' Henr^

hunted; IB concluded by desiring, that whenever, I had

230

ALTHAM,

need of money,.! should dfav\rt)n his friend
jn Quebec, to whom he had written about me ;
and praying me ever to remember, that he was
my fond brother.

During the summer of this year we received

a visit from a party of Esquimaux, on their

return from Quebec to their home, which

was on the main land to the north-eastward o|

Anticost«. They were evidently of a diffierenf

and far inferior tace to the tribe with whom|l

w^ domiciled, bemg short of stature arid

awkwardly made, with fla;t inexpressive facts,

deeply set small twinkling jeyes, and coaitse

Justreless hair, which separating at the cn^wn

hung stiffly around, .half concealing the face.

They were clad chiefly with the skins of

animals of the amphibious tribes, and were

^disgustingly filthy. A young man who

fippeared to be their chief, ahd whom they

Addressed as Araha, stood pre-eminent even

amongst his companions far ugliness and filth.

Our people received them hospitably, .giving

up a wigwam for their occupation, and

furnish ing the m lifaeraHjPmth venison and

fish, which they devoured with an appetite of

I ii

ALTHAM.

231

which I had until then no conception; each
certainly consuming as much as five of our
tribe could have eaten. Their supper bemg
ended, Araha sent to the canoe for rum, which
he oflfered to share with us, but the Wolf
declined. . The offering was not pressed, but
our visitors seemed determined to make up for
an abstinence which they despised, moistening
then: enormous^meal with long draughts of the
raw and fiery spirit. The consequences which
were to be apprehended quickly ensued. The
savages became wildly intoxicated, and indulged
in an uncouth dance, to the vile noise of their
harsh and discordant voices. The keg was not
forgotten, and they finished their evening's
amusement by a furious melee. ,
/The Wolf had regarded them from the first
with an expression of disdainful, compassion.
When utterly^ exhausted by the fumes of the
ram and their exertions, they were at last
quiet, most of them bein^ stretched in helpless T
drunkenness ; he rose, and poipting to them as \
a lesson to his young men, retired to his lodge.
Jotmthstoading their monstr ous sup per and

an appetite of M subsequent debauch, the Esquimaux did ample

>* <

233

ALTHAM,

justice to the morning meal, their appetite
seeming quite unimpaired by previous excesses.
As they were about to depart, Araha drew
the Wolf apart, and addressed to him a
long harangue, the subject matter of which
appeared to be as distasteful to the old chief
as from the violence of his gesticulation and
the eagerness of his manner we coul4 judge
that it ' ^ivas iiiteresting to himself. In an
attitude of cold disdain the Wolf Ustened,
jj^ and then interrupting by a monosyllable
. thatprrent of words which the Esquimaux
addressed to him. Their conference lasted
nearly half an hour. I shall never, forget the
expression of fiendish malice which charac-
terized Araha's hideous face when they rejoined
us. Ala stood beside me ; ^^d when his
bloodshot and glaring eye turned on her, I
felt her tremble.< In insolent silence he
stalked to his canoe,- muttering what sounded
much like threats — his people followed. They
launched their boat ; and, without expressing
the sUghtest thanks for the hospitality they
had ex perienced, pushe d from the shore, and"
paddled to the eastward. I felt happy, as I

, t

jilk

f J i

i^-

ALTHAM.

believe did tlie whole tribe, when they were
out of sight.

My; curiosity was excited as to what had
passed between the Wolf and Araha; but I
knew that he did not like being questioned,
and would most probably communicate it of
his own accord. I had never before seen the
old man angry; whilst before his own people
and the strangers he had only mainifested
disdain,-— but when I followed him into his
lodge, I found him standing with extended
nostrils— the veins of his forehead protruding
like thick cprds— his eye flashing, and his brow
gloomy and threatening as a thunder cloud.
He fixed his eye on me, but it was as though
he. saw me not ; for some minutes I stood
expecting that he would address me, but not
finding that the case, I touched his arm,
saying, " My father."

He started, and glared on me for a
moment— a shudder passed over his frame-
he seemed about to speak, but the only word
which passed his rigid hps, was, " Ala." * It,
howeve r, explain ed all to me ^ my blood boiled^
at the idea that the hideous savage had dared

234

ALTHAM.

even to think of her. Mastering my passion,
I asked, " What of her, my father? "
•The old man's eyes scintillated; he raised
his towering stature to ^ts full height.

" The Wolf," he said, " is the descendant of
a thousand warriors — his fathers look on him
from their happy hunting grounds. His. sons
fell like braves, and joined them there — they
were not sbrry, for Ala lived to hand over their
name to a son on whom they could smile. Does
thp owl seek the towering eagle, whose sires
for thousands of years have soared beyond the
clouds, for his mate ; or, does the timid hare
ask the panther for his squaw? Yet this
Esquimaux has dared to think of Ala ? "

" The fire-water was still in his brain." I
answered ; " he will forget his insolence ; or,
if he wake and remember it, hf^will hope
that we do not."

But Araha did not forget. The next
summer his proposals were renewed and urged
more vehemently than before. Domesticated
now for so long a time with the Wolf, I looked
on Ala as a much loved sister, and fully

participated in the anger which he felt, If it

■vj

"«iju.( »(■>_?', '^'-.tislto'

• ■.V ' %>ii<^^t^'i&£l&atfl '^' ^ t^wl^&^

ALTHAM.

235

were possible, the Esquimaux was more filthy
and hideous than he had been on his former
visit. He was also more pressing and insolent
in his suit, which therefore received an angry
and contemptuous reply. He left us, muttering
threats of revenge, to which he dared not give
more audible utterance. But at this time we
had other matters to think about, the English
had invad^ the colony, and our chief had
received a messenger with presents from the
gallant Montcalm, urging him to come to his
assistance with such strength as we could
muster. The Wolf felt disinclined to mingle
in the disputes of the whites; he had before
grievously suffered by yielding to their entrj^a-^
ties, in the loss of his gallant sons, and of^
more than half the strength of his tribe. The
emissary would therefore have been dismissed
but for nay influence. I represented that I
was a Frenchman, supposed dead it is true,
but not the less a sworn soldier of our king.
At such a moment it was my duty to fly to
his standard. I could not ask that thryoung
men sho uld be se nt, but /was detftrrninPii t o
join the warriors of my king.

■^^ /

^236

ALTHAM.

" The Wolf," the chief answered, " does not
let his brother go alone to the battle-field ;
where you go, my braves and their old chief
will also be."

It is not my intention to enter into the
details of a strife with which aU Europe and
the world are acquainted. Suffice it, that in
every battle our tribe took part until the
Ijist struggle was over, when the gallantry
and blood of those twin brothers of fame,
t;]|lontcalm and Wolfe, equally maintained their
country's renown ; whilst, by the fortune of
war, the colony remained in the possession
of our foes. Dispirited, and with lessened
numbers, we sought our peacefiil home ; but
oiu: misfortunes were not at an end.

It was late in the evening when the site of
our village opened to our view ; a dim cloud
of lurid smoke hung tf^er the hill side. With
anxious speed the paddles were plied; our
canoes touched the strand, where we had
hoped to be welcomed by the women and
childi^n, — -but for a time no fpendly voice
greeted our return. I was, as usual, in the

canoe with the chief ; his expression was at

^-r

\-^

S*^i

. \ , ALTkAM. 237

first one of tmmixpd sa(^es$, but suddenly his^
face brightened, and his eye glittered with
vengeance. Eaisirfg his Vnd, and pointing
to the eastwar^-fte- exclaimed, " Araha," A
vengeftil shout proclainifedl that his warriors
shared his s^pic^bn ^d^elifigs. We landed,
and learned from sitich of the woilien as had^
escaped a cold bl^ded niassacre by hiding
themselves in the woods, tjhat we were not in
error. A party of Esquimaux, headed by our
old visitant, ha#-landed, and proclaiming
themselves friends of the jEnglish, murdered
and scalped most of those who fell into their
hands ; and dried up the blood which they had
shed, by firing the villag^. Our informants
added, that' they could not be ifar distant,
as many hours had n^t elapsed since they
departed, carrying with ijhem some of the
younger women, amongst Whom was Ala.

My heart t^urned witliih me; the thought
of Ala's being in the jjowjr of the vile Araha,
fired me with ihdignatioii. I knew Indian
habits too well, however,
would dispense with the

to dream that they
c ^tomary formalities^

m was at ■ A council assembleil and for nearly an hour

^,*^^

238,

ALTHAM.

..^/

the seniors of the tribe smoked in silence.
With difficulty I endured so long the inevitable
delay; but finding, that whilst I could not
interrupt the usages of the red man, invaluable
time was bst, I beckoned to Saron, who had
been my most intimate" associate during our
campaigns. We stole to the strand, launched
a canoe, and set forth in pursuit. I had
provided our little bark with a sail— the wind
blew strongly from the westward; aided by
^ the stream and our paddles, she shot along
with such rapiditfl that by midnight we were
sixty miles from tp mouth of the Saguenay, in
the vicinity 9|^fcch our village was situated;
still onw8|5(f we toiled, when on rounding a
head-lanjl^e discovered our enemies encamped
on the #r^d. I plunged my paddb into the
watef^ith redoubled force, but my companion
wag^not rash enough to think of an attack in
an instant ; he lowered the sail, and directed
the canoe towards the cape. I saw that he
was right. We had tracked the Esquimaux,
and this was all I had proposed to myself
when st arting in pursuit. We. landed, and
"liberated on what was next to be done!

ALTHAM.

239

We could see them clearly by the glare of
their fires, and even distinguish that they had
more than a dozen canoes hauled up on
the shore. How I chafed at the dilatory
proceedings of our friends. According to my
experience of them, I judged that their council
had scarcely yet broken up j and to a certainty
they would not follow up the determination
at which they had arrived, until the morning.
Meanwhile, my adopted sister was in the
power of these savages, and I could not aid
ller effectually.

I We could do nothing more than watch the
course which they should pursue, and pflot
our people to thg rescue and vengeance. It
•was necessary that one of us should be on the
alert whilst the other slept, and ^ron offered
to undertake this duty. Sleep ! — to me the
veiy idea was preposterous. I desired him
do so if he could — he awaited no second
bidding, but wrapping himself in hia blanket,
and stretching on the rock, soon gave audible
evidence of the soundness of his repose. He
had not long enjoyed himself thus, when a
occurred, which led me to desire his

■^^Mm:a-,...

r,-*;-

'240

ALTHAM.

counsel. Were our people here, the Esquimaux
would not be able to maintain even a momen-
tary conflict with them, as they were not more
numerous than we should be, whilst we were
greatly superior in equipments, and habituated
to arms. I conceived a design, by which I
should render it impossible for them to proceed,
or at least delay them sufficiently long to
enable our .tribe to arrive. Saron agreed with
me, that .^t was possible to carry my proposal
into effect, and generously offered to execute it
himself; but to this I would not listen. I
chose the hour which preceded th« dawn. —
The morning .was dark as Erebus; and the
Esquimaux Uttle dreaming of the vicinity of
the Wolf and his warriors, had contented
themselves with securing their captives, and
appointing one of their number to act as
sentinel whilst the others slept. From the
comfortable position in which this fellow had
remained leaning against a tree close to the
watch lire, from the period of our arrival, I .
had no doubt that he too slept, or at least that
nothing was to be dreaded from his vigilance,
firfipt into the waterr and sworn to where IhT"

*^v^"

t %W 'v -J *

ALTHAM.

241

canoes were hauled up ; being provided with a
sharp knife, I easily cut out a piece from the
bottom of each, and gashed the bark so as to
render the repair almost impossible j and
having doile my work effectually, rejoined
my companion. Nothing could exceed the
astonishment and dismay which prevailed
amongst t^^^uimaux, when in the morning
they dis||pt the state of their canoes.
They eagerfy examined all around the site of
h^eir encampment, searching for a trail which
should elucidate thft mystery. Ahara seemed
suddenly to suspect that Ala had some hand
m the misphief— he rushed to the place where
she stood, and after violently upbraiding her,
seized her rudely by the arm. I fdt well
disposed to have sent a bullet through his
head, which from our proximity I could easily
have done; nothing but the fear that they
would revenge themselves on Ala, prevented
me. She listened to his reproaches in cold
disdain; and- shaking off his grasp, walked a
few paces apart, and sat doWn with as great
s jlf-possession as t li Qu g h s h e werc ^u rround e d^
by the warriors of her own nation

VOL. II. a

. 3iii«!«.fS;„i\iii: j.i,i 1,.%- ,iia.v,

-f"

ALTI^ir.

,/*.

I determined to shew them that she had
protectors at hand ; and launching our canoe,
we paddled into full view. They recognized
us with an angry yell, and, saluted us with a
shower of shot, out of the range of which we
had taken care to keep. I thought it better
to shew them omr force, lest they should
abandon the river, and pursue an overland
route to their homes, in which case the
difficulties of the pursuit would be greatly
enhanced^ I was^therefore well pleased when I
^w them set to work at repairing their canoes.

During the morning we contented ourselves
with observing the enemy, and keeping an
anxious look out for our people— earlier than
we expected, we had the pleasure of seeing
them sweeping down the river. They had
approached within a couple of leagues before
the Esquimaux scouts saw them, as the outline
of the coast hid them much longer from their
view than from us who were in the offing.
On receiving intelligence of fheir vicinity, we
could perceive that a hasty council was held—
the work at th^ can oes was given up — they

hurried their prisoners away under a guard,

^V'

• ^ •■>

ALTHAM.

243

and soon fonowed, tliemselves, into the woods,
abandoning every thing which was not easily
portable. I hoisted my sail and fired several
times, to attract the Wolf's attention; when,
being convinced that we were seen, we paddled
in to the strand. I found that. they had left a
trail which we should have no difficulty in
foUowing, and waited impatiently until we
were joined by the tril^e. We were soon
fairly in pursuit. Over such ground we had.po
delay in seeking the trail ; and we hoped, that,
before evening we should ovjpttake them—
even to my uneducated instincts it was clear
I -that we rapidly gained ground, and that>e '
were at no great distance from them by the
time that the sun had reached his full altitude ;
but we came to a. different description of
country.' Hitherto, the timber had l^eeh
chiefly elm, maple, and ash, indicating a moist
or soft lo«ny feoil; but now, these were
exchanged for dwarf pine, spruce, and poplar,
having beneath a hard dry 'sod, on which
^e feet left no impress. Oui: people were;
^^Qy^ye^>o well pract i sed woodsmen, talbo—

T a guard, ■ %t feult, although our pursuit- was of course

'K'*.A ^

244

ALTHAM.

retarded. » How they knew, that man had
passed through these groves since the creation,
was a liiystery to me ; their keen eyes noticed
even the bending of a «prtly ; and whenever
we crossed the soft ground in the vicinity of a
stream, we had undoubted proof of the truth
of the conclusions at which they arrived. But
now a difficulty . arose, which brought us to a
stand. We came to a barren tract of several
hundred acres of naked granite, fringed around
by an undulating belt of dwarfed trees and
bushes ; here, of course, all traces were totally
lost. We took it for granted, that they would
pursue a direct track, and carefully noting that
by which 5jre had reached the rock, crossed it.
The ground on the opposite side, however,
bore no traces of our enemies. The Wolf
instantly issued orders to his people to form
themselves into two separate parties, and
sweep round in both directions to the place
where we had issued on this trackless rock.
I remained with him, hopeliess of effecting
wJiat I knew was only to be done by an
Indian eye. Our attentio n w as soon arrested
by a cry from the party which had gone round

IV'

ALTHAM.

245

;one round ■ expostulated

by the northern side of the barren rock, and
we joined them. Dry as was the withered
sod, a broad trail was easily discernable in
that direction, narrowing as it reached the
softer ground, \^here with the usual Indian
caution but a single footstep was to be seen,
even this shewing that some degree of care
had been taken to efface its vestiges. I now
felt confident that We* were on the trail, of
which indeed none of the party, with the
exception of the Wolf, entertained a doubt ;
and we were in fuU pursuit when he recaUed
us,— stating, that we should await our other
party. I thought tliis an unnecessary delay,
but yielded to the cool judgment of. the
old chief. We retraced our steps, and
were quickly joined by our fellows. They
^had discovered no trail ; although they had
minutely examined the whble of the opposite
side, nothing extraordinary was to be seen, ..
but a streamlet, which issued from a living
spring, at the mention of which, I saw that
the Wolf's attention was' excited ; when he
ordered a mpyeme n l ia. thftt dir ec t ion, I

Mi:

246

ALTHAM.

) *' Surely, my father, we should not waste
time — the evening is at hand." .^

^ ^ My young men's eyes are keen, and they
8e6 well — ^but so do boys. I am old — still
my sight is gooa enough. A red man should
know, though my brother could not, that in
this dry ground yonder trail is plainer than it
need be ; whilst further on, the print of one
mocassin can barely be seen." >

Convinced by this reasoning, we followed.
With\ hasty strides, he, as by intuition^ sougl>t
the head of the stream, and followii^ its
windings, led us for miles through tjie woods, ,
without finding any indication of <Jur enemies.
I was beginning to doubt the correctness of
his conclusions, when \^e again came on the
trail. Conceiving that they had 'effectually
thrown us out, the Esquimaux had left the
bed of the stream, and taken no further
precautions. With hurried march we followed '
until evening, tvhen the chief gave orders for
encamping. We had still an hour of twiUght ;
and as the track was plain, I secretly murmured.
He bade us seek rest ; and said, as his eyes
had proved, him the best scout, he would

w^<

i.fr'

ALTHAM.

247

follow the traU alone. Wearied as I was, I
sought sleep in vain ; and was the first to
greet him on his return. He had recpn-
noitere'd the camp of the Esquimaux, who, he
told us, were within a few miles ; and being
weU acquainted with its position, he ordered
an immediate pursuit. The night was even
more intensely dark than the last, and how he
/ound his way was incomprehensible—silently
we followed, and after a march of an hour and
a half, he intimated, that we should proceed
with more than ordinary caution, as we were
in the immediate vicinity of the enemy. The
report of a rifle, and the whistling of a ball,
shewed us that he had not erred. The shot
proceeded from a scout, and was evidently
fired with the intention of putting the main
body on their guard. We halted, and a short
consultation took plaxje, at which it was resolved
that we should commence the attack at day-
light, if (as it appeared probable from the
position they had taken,) they should ofler us
battle.

■'■■ ' 1 ,

Chapter XVI.

" Ret inde humanas, led lumma per otia, apectat,

£t nihil ad sese, quai videt, esse videt.

Bourns.

During the iniserval which preceded the dawn,
the Esqnimaiix were busily employed ; we
^ heard the continuoiis noise of the axe, with
now and then the crash of a falling .tree
reverberating through the forest. Faintly, at

/ first, we traced the rugged outline of the huge
trunks which environed us, and the eager
expectant figures of our Bssociates, by the grey
light which penetrated the dense screen of
foliage over head. One after another, the
woodland choristers hailed the young morning,
gladdening in their song as she approached,
until the wild woods rung with their merry

"- music. Rude and chaotic masses grew into

the exquisite tracery with which nature indulges

~~~~ In her unexplored and uncultured landscapes.

■■im^h^

ky , sd

■IT'"" "

ALTHAM.

249

Around me, resting in stiilness on their rifles,
were forms which the artist would have dwelt
oh with rapture, and which would have been
to him invaluable as a study. A few i)aces
in advance, a rivulet stole along over its
pebbly bed, the soft murmuring of its waters
sweetly harmonizing with the voices of the
feathered choir j— beyond, and encircled by its
stream, arose a natural mound of nearly
circular base, the upper parts of which were
hidden from our view by the rich arcade of
Uving green above us. Since the creation, we
had reason to believe, that this sceile of beauty
bad been uninvaded by the foot of man ; and
now, on his first inroadv I saw but too just
reason to suf^ose, that his trcsad would but
profane it. I had seen and participated in
war, without moralizing much on the scenes
in which I was an actor. I had suflered myself
to be led on to slay my brothei^ man, deeming
a superior's command a full walrant t^ justify^
my doing iny utmost to destroy those ta
whom I entertained no personal animosity-^
nay, even thoser whose conduct had jmerited

"tI

aSdscapes.* ray esteem. IJow, for the first timfe, I pondered

T I

ri.i4^

250

JILTHAM.

on my right so to do — ^fortunately, justice was
here manifestly on our side. Our burned
village, our murdered and captured wQriien,
rose in judgment against those who had
despoiled us, and condemned them* Such
was the line of thought which I entertained as
I contemplated the scene around me, whilst /
the dawn brightened. The noise which we
had heard was accounted for, when our scouts
penetrated sufficiently far to gain a view of the
higher parts of the hill, near the base of which
we had halted. On gaining the brink of the
stream, they saw that the mound had, in the
brief space which had intervened since our
arrival, become a strongly fortified position. —
At thirty feet from its base the trees were
felled, with their branches pointing outwards,
so as to form an almost impregnable barrier
if to be escaladed or cut through in the face of^
determined opponents ; whilst one above the
other, similar hues of works were drawn around
the hill. The sleights of more enlightened
engineering than we could have supposed our
unt utored foes acquainted with, were not

neglected SaUent angles, froto whence their

M-lr

>•'■';'/■

ALTHAM.

251

fire could tell with deadly eflfect on an attacking
enemy, were projected. In fact, so stfoiigly
had they secured the defences of their position,
that we felt they might defy from withik it
any attempt, the suCc^j^fewhich depended
on mere force. The^Mp;^ perceive and
appreciate Ue result ^^^fwell directed
morning's work, was ' t^WSf. He ^i^y
deigned to communicate his thoughts rW
when he did so, as pn the present occasic^, I
was his confidant.

" We should not waste our young mena
Uves," he said ; " thjese dogs are cowffcSls, but
they are very cunning— if we try to forci their
camp, we shall lose mMiy of our braves, for a
squaw can fire a riflej with true aim from under
cover. My sons ar^ already too few t6|i|eiw
me to sacrifice them thus ; when, by aTffile
patience, we can scjalp these thieves without
loss." Thus far h^ had proceeded, when I
perceived that Saronj, who had been one of the
most active of our scouts, wished to attract
our attention, alth<iugh* ie was unwiUing to
break in on our ccjnference. . I beckoni>d tn

'^'''/^•M

jnce their T him to join us.

J--'-

:\r

^r^i

';;.r

f::)

252

ALTHAM.

" After all/' he said, " these are fools ; they
have made a stroDg fort, but a tall pine tree
overlooks it — within a hundred paces from its
top, I shall be able to look into their camp,
and shoot them."

We saw that Saron was right ; the towering
pine which he pointed out to us was within
poinf blank range of the hillock, whilst the
density of its foliage would afford concealment,
and its trunk a secure sliield to an attacking
party. It was necessary, however, to draw off
the attention of the enemy, whilst Saron should
clamber it, as should he be then perceived, he
would be necessarily much exposed. To effect
this, the Wolf ordered an attack to be made
as a diversion ; but that our people should be
content with maintaining a distajjt fire, treeing
themselve^ith care. As was to be expected,
whilst much powder was expended, no real
damage accrued to either party. We looked
anxiously for the time when Saroia's'fire should
shew them the true point of danger, — ^but he
rejoined us, without having unmasked our
Resign. He was well aware^that the destruction

oFthis robber gang was bu#a secondary con-

ALTHAM.

253

sideration, whilst the recovery of their captives,
uninjured, was not only a point of ^honor, but
one deeply affecting the domest|fcIppiness i
many of our people ; and he had discovered,
that amongst the beseig6d, there 'were no
women. He, therefore, thought it better,- to
make us acquainted with the result of his
inspection of the enemy's camp.^

The Wolf's eyes sparkled with pleasure at
this intelligence. He sent Saron back to his
post, highly praising his discretion— ordering
that the fire on the hill should be maintained
with increased frequency ; and taking me with
him, encircled the camp- of the enemy at such
a distance as precluded their observation-
examining the ground With the greatest care
for a trail, but in vain, m again c^me to
the place whence we had started. How poor
Ala and her fellow captives had been disposed
of, remained a mystery. I knew it to be
impossible that even a squirrel should have
passed over the ground, and his track eluded
the searching scmtiny of the chief, and was
J^^fffoff satisfied, t lia t,m individual had-

reached the camp who was not still there;

mk ,

.'t**

'i^f^-Ji

254

ALTHAM.

whilst Saron's inspection of it being unsus-
pected by the occupants, there was no reason
why they should have concealed our friends
from his observation, even had it been possible
for them to have so done. Suddenly, a
thought struck me.

" I have it, my father. Yo!| remember the
trail from the northern side of the waste ; be
assured, that knowing us to be near at hand,
they planned this, under the pretence of
deceiving us,— yet, justly calculating, that yoii
would not follow that trail."

" You are right, my son. I would have
thought of this, had the Esquimaux been
warriors — I would have known that they
planned it. The robbers learn. A few have

gone by that route — follow them, ray brother ;
take Saron and one or two more with you,
wWlst I smoke out this /liorde — ^you will be
strong enough for them. \
, Saron's place wj^ supplied by another of
the tribe. We retraced the broad tracks left
■^ by us whilst in pursuit, and easily found the
streamlet, crossed^ the bare rock, and saw

where the Esquimaux had left it — the single

ALTHAM.

255

foot-print was still uneffaced, and until evening
we followed it with but slight difficulty.^ It is
astonishing how quickl»jr our instincts become
sharpened ; I, who ha* at first deemed the
Indian quickness of sight wonderful, now felt
that I could trust to my own ; wBen we
reached^gain harder ground, and the retreating
party had proceeded ^ith less caution^ I could
even ascertain their strength, and trace the
small foot-prints of the Vomen who accompa-
Died them. We had the 'satisfaction too of
knowing, that our number equalled that of those
of whom we were in pursuit, and that numeral
equality was decided superiority on our side.
This I valued, as I hoped thence to secure
their uncontested submission. *l feared, that
were we more equaUy mated, some ^ might
befall Ala, in the heat of action, or from the
excited vengeance of her guard. As Idfeg as
day light permitted we followed, but were
obliged by its decline to encamp; p^ectly
wearied, I enjoyed a night of the deepest.sleep
I had ever experienced ; and sprung from my
leafy couch, at Saron's call, with «n Pr^^^gy

-the single W pervading my frame which such a toil-won

UiiL.'\ ... ,:

.. :^; -

250

ALTHAM.

sleep can alone produce. We. renewed the
pursuit — it led us along a gradual ascent.
Again, the woods shewed the lightness of the
soil whence they found sustenance, dwindling
from the n^ajestic growth beneath which we
had hitherto traversed, to dwarfed and stunted
shrubs. The wind was from the . south-

. westward, and as the orb of the sun became
visible, it shewed red and murky. As we
ascended, a lurid curtain enshrouded the flat

. country which we were leaving, and' floated
cloud-like upwards, dimming the day light.
Over the locality which we had left the day
before, it was densest, and ruddied as by a
volcanic eruption ; but our minds were too
much occupied, to allow of our investigating
the causes of this strange appearance. With
the instinct of hounds we followed the track —
it led us to the precipitous bank of a river —
from an eminence of some hundreds of feet,
we descried the objects of our journey — Ala,
and the other girls. They were bound hand
and footjywhilst a withe of bark was passed
fijbm one to the other, securing them together
like galfey sjaves. They were seafed on the

^'1^^^:

srMniiid^-i., iittJiili'v.' . ,i*..'#A.;>.,;. v', KtSi&iia^

r"--'

ALTHAM,

257

strandv At a little distanee from them,, half '
- a doieri Esquimaux were busily employed on
the construction of a large canoe, the frame of
. which was perfected, and the bark more than
half stitched on. Saron's. rifle was in kn
instant at his shoulder, as were those of the
remainder .of the party. A , volley rung,
reverberated by an hundred echoes, and but
one of the enemy stood unhurt. With a fierce •
yell, he-sp^ng to where the defenceless girls
were bound— I saw tjie cold gleam of a knife
raised on high ; but at the moment, my reserved
fire told— tlie ruffian fell. We rushed down
the cliff, and were but just in time tto secure
him. .His jaw was broken, and he had been
stunned ; but as we reached the strand, he
p was endeavouring to rise, and the deadly glare
of his eye shewed, t|iat ^nute more, and we
had been too late to prevent hi§ accomplishing
his feU purpose. With difficui|g| saved him
from the vengeance of ^aron -and havin
bound him, and liberated the girls, we tetraee?
our steps. I supported Ala; and knowing
^^^ ^™"gi^i^J^^^H^^<^er' was astonish prj

^Tea^the arm wjiicii rested on mine tremble7
VOL. n. * jj

4''

ALTH4M.

Im.

no jfiirtlilfi*

Msmtlinc:

i^.

:s'

I soothed her,-— -sll^inglbker t

danger vvl^^ to li|j|^pprelife1fded;
coloul»;glow^d pn hteiN^ai^l^edji.|
slie tuis^ed it (#=^'j|teS

|rhe %irs daug^tl m^''k

^^^0\'ivhen in Araha s ^wer^fear ; but
been sayed by Maneto-wassingi an4

^Jlo feel, gratitude to f jm— she is very
liappy'— jthat is all." Ag||h, evening was
closing, when we regained Im summit of the
hill. The cause of the gloom which had hung
Qvei* the country in the moi*Bing was now
apparent — ^for a circuit of milei| to the south-
westward, the forest wa^ on fire; 4 crimson
glow lighted the dusky pavilion of cloud which
)iung over it^ from out of which, as some tall
tree, the growth of ages, fell, a rocket of
sparkling flame shot forth ; whilst, through
the edges of the smoky cloud and the sky
over it, forked shafts of lightning incessantly
played. What did all this b^ ? For a few
minu\es we gazed, on the coaMfeation ; vvhem,

on said—
It is^the Wplf ; lIMp . smoked Uhgm
ou^th^r ]Srt kept li]|^^long. AhlTie

. -^■" ......

X,no fiirtlilf'i

'^ Mitntlinrr

ir, fear ; but
grassing; aii4
-she is very
3vening was
Lmmit of the
ch had hung
jg was now
,o the soutli-
4 crimson
'cloud which
as some tall
a rocket of
list, through
and the sky
g incessantly
^ For a few
ation J whei^,

[noked Hh^m
igv AhT¥:

ALTHAM.

■p^

259

will now soon meet us. The woods were dry,
atid the brush beneath, too, wag thick there.'
To-morrow," he added, turning to Araha,
"yo« will meet him."

"^'^le^^squiniaux seemed sunk in sullen
despondence ; . my ball had torn his cheek,
and his wound must have been most painful' ^
I had, not before thought of hini; now, his
pitiable condition, despite his deserts, claimed
my attention.. My skill in surgery wis
slight, but I bound jip his face as well as I
could. He foresaw that death ^^ in reserve
for him on the morrow, and Without absolutely
repulsing my attentions, he received them
doggedly and almost contemptuously. The
morning's dawft s^r us again in motion ; and
as Saron had anticipated, Ve met the Wolf in
the afternoon. He greeted his daughter with
affection, but with as great calmness as though'
they had onl^^edjig^^^jr before; but his
eye shot liJp^wrf^^it^^AraKa. He
ordere(|«him to be bound to a, tree. The
semors:'6f the tribe assembled-^ouncjJL ike-^^
— iig htedr-ranE tS usua^ fo yH tahttes^gon g—

through. I felt that our Wretdted pris(^r had

\.,

\ • ■ ■

'■^ ...S

i.ajfcj*!

t. rf>i

&• t» :,

X J

\ :

ALTHAM,

justly merited the doom which was pronounced

against him ; yet, it was abhorrent to my

inind, that an unarmed captive should be put

/to death. I (/ould see men fall in battle, but

/ the death of this thorough villain, in cold

/ blood, horrified me. I seldom obtruded

myself on the deliberations of the old men, yet

< now I did so, and earnestly prayed them to

please their prisoner^ I shewed them, that

as vthey had annihilated the tribe, his power to

iiijike them no longer existed. Finally, I

entreated as a favor to myself, that he should

be suffered to depart without further injury.

" My btother," said the Wolf, " you are
.wrong. We have crushed thi^^ viper, but
fwhilst he lives he may find means to make us
a feel his fangs. Still, as you desire it, he
shaU live."

He,, stalked to where Araha stood bound.
When within two paces of him, he whirled his
tomahawk around his head, tittering thel
fearftil yell which usually preceded the death-
blow. The old chief smiled grinily, when, as
the weapon descended to* within' a ffiot of his^

TEead, the felon screwned in anguisH, writhing

.-i--"

alti|am. 261

and cowering with terror. " A coward tod,"
he said. " Begone," he added,— and severed
the rope of bark which bound him to the tree.
" Murderer, coward, rcibber,— begone. If I
again cross your trail, your days are ended."
Sullenly scowling at us, the ruffian slunk away,
and was soon hidden in the forest. We
resumed our march,~-found our canoes on the
beach,— and returned to the desolate' site of
our village, which was soon restored to its
former state ; -but the absence of many loved
and weU-remembered faces, gave us cause to
mourn the fatal visit of the Esquimaux.

Peaceful years now roUed past— at the usual
periods bringing me letters from Henri. At
first, he urged me to cast off what he considered
the morbid fancies which led me to shun the
paths of civUization ; but, as he became more
.and more acquainted with tU hoUowness and
vanity of the great world, hi^ remonstrances
became less frequent ; and when, at length, it
WM in his power to realise the fond dreams of

?°"**** ^^1 °"^ ^^^^er slept quietly in his
^tately tomimthose who h«H gn^. bf>f^rp_

'when his ir^k afforded him the opportunity

»i -

)

*.*■

■#i

ALTIIAir.

of obtaihing eni|)loyment in tlie highest grades
of that pi^o^^lMljlik^^ he had left witlisuch
regret, he found himself so accustomed to the
frivolous round of Parisian life, that whilst he
heartily despised its enervating occilpatioril^e
could not dispense with theni\ and would have
been wretched" if deprived of them^ then, for
the first time, he frankly owned, that he no
longer s^w absurdity in my more natural ai^d
rational choic^ With his wontedjpjnerosity,
he conveyed to me an income far sui'passing
the usual portion of a younger son ; and, bid "
me be happy in my own way, as h^ was the
reverse ii1r4hat which the will , of olfters lipt,
and habit ^terwardsf had forced on him: i
ttkl nAeed of the affliience thus jsestowed on
ime. I had studied humqji iv«|i|jp^ sufKciently
t<|iiiiiware, thi^to best(^ uneflirnc}.d superfluity
on the peqple whg* Md befri^iided^iein niy^
day of neei iw^^M the way t(l?bring about
their ba]|H|[e^y ahS, therefore, contented
iflystelf wS^gi^g them every article which
ministered to their wants^ — easily acquiring, by
-light toil, ail that was really desirable. The old
and feeble t^ctc no longer further a burden on

1, ._ . i J . .^fta^^ii, ':

ALTHAM.

263

;hest grades
■t witli such
3med to the
at whilst he
itpatiorfPle
would have
(a then, for

that he, no
natural arid
generosity,
• sui'passing
1 ; and, bid '

h^ was the
otifiers iiy^t, '
on "him. i
)estowed on
! sufficiently
I superfluity

tring about
^ £X)ntent€d
[•tide which
cquiring, by
le. The old

^ the community, than was -sufficient to maintain
graceful and kind feeling. My occasional
well-timed assistance, caused me to be looked
on as almost a providence amongst them.

Meanwhile, Ala grew up to womanhood,
ftnd was sought m maifiage by the most
^distinguishecl braves of h^r nation. The Wolf
Evidently Jonged to see his race perpetuated,
yet he ^^iil not, force the inclinations of his
beloved diild. At each new proposal, he
enumerated flie virtues and, martial deeds of
^fe^wko coveted his alliance; but when
disinclination, became apparent, he failed
*o pres|aheni on her. Amongst the crowd
who w;offlbipped her, Saron appeared to me
the most desirable; haliad never obtmded
bis pret^sioDs, or Spoken to the chief, yet his
heart was not- difficult to read^I led him

ml^ to open it to me, and promised to
become his advocate. Ala; and I were still
*»^ ak;|W Itabit of- visiting the last resting
place of i^r' Adele, The sweet girl's songs
were not forgotten, beneath the "dark .cedar
8hade,"~it was one of^fthe hQliest of my

burden oT"! pleasures to~^listen to their ToJehin melody;

^ui^^^^i.

^J!}J^. i.' ^

264

ALTHAM.

It was this loved and consecrated spot that
I chose, to plead Saron's cause. My adopted
aster heard me with a moistened eye and
flitting colour, which led me to hope for my
friend's success. I recounted the many feats
of his daring courage, of which I had been a
witness — I dwelt on the nobleness of his
character, which led me to estimate him so
highly as /to deem him worthy of her love, and
to anticipate, that he would duly value her.

. When l/told her how he had often generously
ventured his own life to protect mine, I saw
that her heart throbbed, her colour heightened,
and hei^ eye beamed brightly — when I told her
how h^ had spar^ the fallen, I saw approval

', in her glance : but when I wound up, by
asking her to crown with happiness a warrior
who had proved so highly the worth of the

, race from which he sprung, the dark fringes
bid the sparkling of her eyes, and I saw a tear
steal from beneath them, — the beautiful flush
faded from beneath the olive skin of her velvet
cheek, — and in faltering accents, she entreated
me to spare her. In the native harmony of

TeFlacFsEe"toH^F^^"lE''^Sd^roiJ,

' ■ *
V

1%W:^ Sfl" '

■■■■"::?;■■

ALTHAM.

265

but that she could not loVe him as a wife
should. She spoke with enthusiasm of the
virtues and beauty of. a girl who, she said,
loved him; and entreated me to soften her
refusal, and awake him to the loveliness of
her friend. Saron was certainly the most
distinguished of the warriors of his nation, and
one that I supposed well calculated to win the
love of her to whom he should oflfer the tribute
of his affection, but so^ modestly, yet de[;idedly
was he refused, that I saw nothing wafe to be
attained by pressing hjs suit further, whilst I
was aware that t should only inflict useless
pain by ao doing. A dawning of thd truth
struck me, and I determined to withdraw
myself for a time from what had became to
me a dearly loved home. Letter^ then
received from Paris furnished a sujfficient
excuse. Henri entreated me to visit |iim, if .
but for a few months. He told me, that tired
of the life he was lfi#% my presencq alone
could reconcile hM^afirag along the ^tters
with whicli he had surfered himself jto be
bounct;./ Hejpra yed me^ jf^ T rem emb er^,!

SaroD,"j boyhood, thi happy hours, long since

I as a

;

'*.

200

ALTIIAM.

-1^.

dreara to iis both, to giye him the happiii^,8s
of seeing ine once more. As aji .excuse for
niy-predeterniincd absence, I read this letter
to the chief, declaring that I should defer to
my brother's wishes. I took care that Ala
should be present at this coui^iunication, A
better motive than mere curiosity, led me to^
observe her closely.',. She bore up bravely,
but her cheek grew pale, and te^ars shone on
her dark lashes ; but no inference could be
gathered therefrom, save that she gl-ieved' at
the proposed absence of a loved .friend..
Assiduously she set herself to the task of
preparing my things, but d?iy by dty I saw
that she languished, tl^p colour now never
visited her cheek, and Jier late sparkling eye
lost its lustre, despite irer efforts to conceal
the agony which was destroying her ve;?y^litt\

I savv that ' I could not leave without .

Come, love begets love. What needs it tQ
dwell longer on what you most have ere this
foreseen. I found sufficiently valid reasons to
justify mva^ to Heiiri, for deferriiig my vi^it
to France. AgaJH, ;Ala's ey|ip sparkled with ^-

X ^gladness. "A lodge was erectep:3i' us,^~ancl"^

■». • t".

■ < »

'T/*

lALTIIAM.

* i>

267

•amongst the lieartfult congratulations of tli^
Avhofe tribe, I insj^Ued Ala as it^s mistress;
and was declared by^the good okl chief, to
be a son in whom his fathers would rejoice.
After a time we wearied of the village, and
jhose this lovely solitude as a place for our
habitation.

' Nature had lavished ^lere her bounteous
gifts. I have wandered far through scenes
w]iere,.^she had delighted to sport In her
tichest luxuriance— amidst hoar mountains,
^' |r^n^whdse snow-capt summits bright gushing
|-streams^were\fed, which flaSng from"
lieight to .heigHt, at^ length readied bowery
lollies, giving rich verdure to noble trees,,
^- slept in placid lakes, reflecting their
drooping branches, affordhig cool freshness to '
^the breeze which , scarcely ripple^their blue '
'^ Wers. I -had, in my native land^ seen wide
plains waving with- golden com, of teeming
^^witfc>tlje luscious grape ; bufjiere, she had
:^ttibined yi that had ^ so justly charmed ^ ^ *
Msey^ere. % everlasting JiHls DrMected us ■
^rom th^ rude viol^i)ce of the iT'gitea' storm, _
^wiT^aboun^ed with cool fountains, to fiK

4 ' * \ •

«•

»■■'* 1*. !*l

268

ALTHAM

US during the heats of summer. The lake
and the woods furnished our table with the
choicest dainties. The belt of prairie on the
main land bore exactly the appearance of an
immense tract of corn richly cultivated. The
wild vine festooned the rugged old trees,
mantling their trunks with wavy foliage, from
amongst which, , in due season, hung in large
clusters the purple fruit. T|ie prospects
arourid delighted, whilst from fheir never-
ceasin^arieties of light and shade, they never
wearied the eye. The exquisite taste of Ala
soon rendered our island a paradise. Spring
clad it with the softest verdure, which summer
ripened into full voluptuous beauty. Autumn
tinted the foliage with crimson and gold ; and
rough old wintef, although he scattered with
his icy breath the leafy bowers which had
protected us from the sun's scorching rays,
did so but in kindness, to enable them to
penetrate when they were welcome. His chill
blast mbide exercise deljchtful during the day;
and when, An the e\immg, his storms bowed
the bared branches of^iie forest around, they
swept over oiuv^oHttge^-unhancing (he eiijoj/^

». -r-

ALTHAM.

260

r never-

ment with which we closed to the crackling
and glowing hearth. I have heard sojourners
in what they deemed more favored lands, boast
of their perpetual summer ; and it may be,
that they g^ve expression to their real feelings,
forgetful perhaps of the long droughts which
parched whole districts to such a degree, that
the sole prayer of the Wandering beggar was
for water. It is possible, that habit may have
rendered them "insensible to the monotony of
a never-varying temperature : for myself, i^
would not part, were it matter of choiJe, wilL
one degree of the extremes of oup clirpate ; I
enjoy the changes of our aeagons a» much as
those which the morning gl'ow and tfie grey of
evening ^hed over the landscape. Tjje bUthe
aspect of spring, when myriads o£ flo^6rs

.enamel her joyous path-^tshe golden and
mellow fruits, which summer scartters^rom her
bounteous bosom over the land— -the gk/fies of
our autumnal foliage, unequalled in sfrf(^dor
throughout the world— the adamantine ^ke,
capable of sustaining ^he serried chivahy of
Europe, and the forest glittering with t^ bril-

. Ixani penaicles of wmter,— are alike delightful.

270

ALTHAM.

Wo have, it is true^lioH intervals of wet and
gloomy weather in the spring and fall, but
they are of so short duration, that honie
pleasures do not weary 'whilst they confine us.
„ In the enjoyment of /our happy home, years
flowed peaceably by ; and the birth of "our
daughters enhanced o/tir enjoyment the rJiore -
perlTaps, that it was delayed for some time.
They are twins. W0 named them, Adele and
Ala. The new duties which their advent
involved, gave a fresh zest to life. We taught*
them what we knew. Ala has made- thcui ^^
proficients in the tasteful manufactures of her
nation, whilst to mc they, are indebted for'
some insiofht into the tissue of traditional

, fable, recdiyetl as the' history of the old world.
They ca^Tead and write my mother tongue,
aficT^iTilimi their labour with' such of tile
relics of the Troubadours as dwelt in my
memory. I assure you, I 'am proud of our
pupils. Alas ! I have a more sorrowful theme
to dwell on. Unheeded — undreamt off by
those whom it so^vitally concerned, the French
revolution burst forth, shaking tlic thrones of

-4sttt v|) e ;. Cftusi iJg hf rt"^^7 tlmiigh terfrff"

<..^«t

,,..'i.v!.v: /■

■;

«•■■'■

ALTIIAM.

271

retributioM, the hearts of moiiarchs to quail,
and their scepfres to tremble in their faltering
. grasp. 1 should not say undreamt of, for
"^H^i with prophetic eye saw its approach.
, ^d even took the precaution of transferring a
Jlarge portion of his property to tlie Engli^hv
;i|indsr but he deferred, until too late, to%ave
\X le whirlpool of Parisian society. Poor fellow,
le ha.#the melancholy satisfaction of repaying
vith his heart's blood, the distinctions which
^q kings of Prance had lavished on our race;
^ and dying, sword in hand, amongst the devoted
Swiss, defending from the access of the brutal
mob the private apartments of the doomed
sovereign, whoni so short a time pr^ously
they had greeted on each appearance amongst
them, with enthusiastic cheers. Deeply, an^
most sin^'rely, I mourned for my noble
brother ; jfct, I could not'help reflecting, how
muc^Tnoi(e appalling , death might have been
tohim, ifdraj^edtoan ignominious scaftbld,
(as> alas ! was the fate of tens of thousands,)
than thus striking him, when in generous fight
j'^^ ^^PQsed his iifc in the endeavour to saVg
V^hijj' benefactor: — ' "

> -fT ■

ALTHAM.

'#«

I have little to add. The resources at my
command are ample, to allow of my takino*
that place in European society to whfch my
same would be a passport. On my own
account I should feel it a banishment, ^whilst
I cannot but think, that Ala and our
daughters are far happier, ministering by turns
to the comfort of the defining years of the
old chief, and'enjoying the blessed calm with'
which it has pleased Providence to endow us,
than they would be in the ^idventitious society
of Europe.

" But friend Maneto, the gals are growino-
up, and must soon be married. Why the
plague did you not drop a hint of their
fortius before? The Johnson's are proud of
the dash of the tar-brush under their skiti, and
it would be no stop to Jake Van Ransellaer ;
but 'tis too late now, I am all as one as
buckled, and I can't say as I am sorry neither ;
but you might as well have let the cat out of
the bag before. .;

" Why truly. Captain," answered the old
man, smihng, " I wa^ not aware of the honor
which mi^/tf //ffrg^aefallen us ; but, my frJond,

S^'

ALTHAM. ♦ 273

. I have provided \r the contingence which
occurs to your foresight. A worthier or a
nobler man than Saron does not tread the
mazes of the free forest ; at my suggestion,
the Wolf has .named him' his successor as the
war chief of the nation. I have long since
seen with pl^j^ure, that two of hia son^^ave
felt the attractions of my daughters. 1 have
brought them up together, and as far as in
me lay, provided for their mutual happiness.
Nay, blush not, my cMdren ; the tried lovte
of such as they are, ahd its warm\ return,
does equal honor to the wisdom of all parties ,'
apd, if this varied life have bliss in store for
any of her offspring', it is for such as\you,
when wedded to affectionate hearts' fresh and
unsullied as the breath of morn."
Annesley perceiving that the km now gilt

setting ray.

the western mountains with his
arose ; and our party heartily thanking Maneto
and his lovely daughters for their entertainment,
bade them adieu ; but the polite old man
insisted on guiding them from his fairy lake— •
a service which became needed, as whilst they

3, The~twilight fad^

./"

VOL. II.

274

ALTHAM,

rapidly ; and ere they had reached the grottoed
entry, night had stolen on them — this the old
man had provided for, by placing^n the stern
of his canoe, a Jack filled with birch bark and
chips of the resinous knots of the pitch pine.
Brilliantly the inflammable mass flamed up as
he preceded them beneath the native arch,
whose sides and roof glittered as with "millions
of gems reflecting its glowing light, whilst the
clear waters beneath reflected the beaming
coruscation. Although accustomed to the
contemplation of Ihe portal of his lake,
;^aneto was fully sensible of its striking
beauty when thus viewed, and waved aloftvhis
basket- torch, that no part of its splendour
might ^e lost on \\% guests. They glided in .
silence through the sinuous arch, at tiHe Hyer
entrance of which they took a final leave of
Maneto. The rapid river bore them swiftly'
to the basin where the Triagain Jay. ■

v.-

■;..-''■/

(■

Chapter XVII.

i ?

\.*^

"" Not the dreadful spout
Which shipmen do the hurricane call, \

Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's car ,

In his descent."

Four days were spent by the crew of'tlie
Triagaiii, ji getting jury spars on end in
place of those which she had lost, and putting
all to rights, by the evening of the last of
which, little appearance remaine^of the
weather which she had lately eiftountered.
Ere the ladie^ Ivere up on the next morning
they had left the Saguena^ far a-sterH. The
bright green of the St. Lawrence, overjrhose)
•-surface flashed every now and then ,t#e white
backs of the snow fish, (a species of porpoise.

., peculi^ to this river, and we believ^L or
%o in India,)— the smiling beauties of the
numerous inlands, clothed in their spring attire

- Q^ ^gyeryshadeof green— the majestic-graB

of the Alpine Scenery, boundin

« '

ver even ,

4) .•

y, -:^r^'.j^''^v'' ■'

27G

*W|^

ALTHAM.

from its bank on the northern Srfiore, and
recalling vividly our own Killarney, were it
not that thfr scale might be done calculated
by the comparative size of the holly and
arbutsQS of the latter, with that of the stately
pine of the former. The south side of the
Aver seemingly a continued village of cheerful
white-washed cottages, becoming denser every
mile pr two in the vicinity of a neat church,
^>c;, \the tin-coK^ered roof and spire of which
glittered in the sun light^were all admired
i^ turn, beneath a sky as bri^t and sunny as
that of Italy. Another day, during which the
wind continues fair, and they are skh-ting
along the lovely island of Orleans, the garden
of the lower Canada. The thunder of its
falling torrent directs the eye to Montmorency,
as the skip opens the northern .shore above
the island ; but even the highest waterfall in
North America cannot long detain the eye
from glorious old Quebec, of which, rounding
Point Levi, they are now in full sight — its
hundred domes, spires, and roofs, of brilliant
tin, reflecting like smoked silver the glow of

the declining sun.

w ■■,

■'f

•»"

ALTHA]^;

277

Scarcely had the ponclerous. anchor of the
\Triagain reached the bottom, ere Sir John
Sherbrooke came along side ; and h^nother
moment his daughter was in his ar^f

" I have been very much alarmed, Mary,"
he said ; " the prize which announced your
being in the gulf, has been at Quebec fully a
week, and reports dreadful weather encountered
after parting you— thank God, all is well."

"We have, indeed, to be grateful, my
father; for many hours I feared that we
should never meet again in this world,— but
to the^Jpcal knowledge of the privateer Captaia
weowe ou|;safety, as Annesley tells us."

" I will acknowledge the debt, my daughter;
no doubt you little thought to have met me
here. An^^xpress from the Governor-General
met me en ^mie, ordering me to visit Quebec,
on a particular duty, before proceeding to
Montreal. I arrived yesterday, and having
performed the required duty, was about to
resume my journey, when I learned the capture
and arrival of the schTRoner. We have now no
tmie to lose, so as soon as you and your friends
are ready, we must leave for Montreal.*' T

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278

ALTHAM.

It is not our purpose to accompany the
General and his party on their teidious route,

' varied and beautiful as is the scenery between

the two principal cities of British America;

we feel that we have too far trespassed on

.your patience, good reader — so/ now, for a

bold leap over distant time. *

The short though bloody war had ended ;

and may no cause arise again to induce the

children of the same noble stock to imbrue

their fratricidal hands in each other's blood.

ThQ landomners again plied their happy toil,

arfd their bounteous mother, the earth, promised

its due reward. On every side fair nature

smiled as though red handed strife had never

been ; but many a heart at each side of the

lakes was sad — many a young widow mourned

over dreams, alas, for ever faded — mothers

wept their sons, and little children the parent

whose fondness was but too well remembered :

and what did all these hearts' tears purchase ?

A more embittered ieeling between nations

who should be firm friends — whose union,

alike desirable from kindred relationship and

interest, should be in dissoluble — whn^ flni^

ALTHAM.

279

the inhabitants of the earth bein^ alone the
free, should foster in other cpuntries the
budding germs of that hberty which is theii-
own pride and blessing. Let not the mother
be jealous of the sj;ately growth and ripening
charms of her fair daughter; and let the
daughter exult in the mature glories of her
time honored mother. Let England and
America vie in good feeling one to the other,
and give liberty to the world, not by force,
but by the influence which such a joint
example must exert throughout the^globe.

It was evening— a soft autumnal evening,
more than a year after the above break in on
our narrative ; the sun was stiU some degrees
from the horizon, and a flopdof glory shope
over that most beautiful of views, the Niagara.
Beautiful from its ocean lake source, whence
in placid grandeur it springs full grown, and
ghdes gracefully between its fertile shores.
It meets Islands in its course, but finding full
flow for its waters, it heeds them not, uttering
scarcely a complaining murmur on their shores ;
but flowing on in its majesty, rocky barriers
atcrvene,^^!! these irhurlsTtlwaFrs, with"

280

ALTHAM.

occasionally a hoarse^roar, but mo^ generally
as though sporting with such petty annoyances ;
their more constant recurrence vexea the
speeding river, and with a whirling charge it
rushes on, heedless of what may be before.
For some few yards it pauses as fl^ake breathy
then -comes its mighty performance — a chasm,
deep as the pit of Averrius, appears before it;
but nought applied, on. dashes the ocean
stream-^it hurls itself into the profound abyss ;
and if the breath of the Almighty, whose voice
is as the sound of many waters, is to be heard
on earth,? J^ is^ts'tsoncent^ted echo. Who
has behejj^lPee, Niagara, and not thought on
Him— lyjio has heard thee, and not felt, that
notwithstanding the surrounding din, & still
^amall voice spoke to his heart ? For awhile
after the trememious exploit, all is wild chaos
in the va?t waters ; but far above the river,
God throws a victorious banner of sky-tinted
spray, in which, by the behest of the
Omnipotent, in mercy to his soul-stricken
creatures, the bow of the covenant is displayed,
promising that the worlfl shall be no more
.^merged with a? flood. As^iimlL the ^i

■e

ALTHAM.

281

works of the Creator, the easiest grasped
amongst the wonders of this tremendous
stream, are its most minute points. I^escend
to the "cave of the winds," .beneath an
inanitesimally small portion of the" vast
waterfall, and you may judge, at least after-
wards, of the immensity of the whole. Where
you see- from below the comparative utter
insignificance of the middle fall, you wiU find
it hard to convince yourself* that it was this
-mere rivulet, as you ^iU then consider it,
which struck your soul w^th such awe, when
you ^d entered a few yards beneath its arc.
Afterwards, if you have courage, enter the
,8ubhme hall formed on the English side by
the .grand cataract. After having undergone
the pains of suflbcation, and being perhaps
more than once -baffle^, you succeed in ^
stemming the horrent of spray and pent ui '
wind borne down by the faUing rive^. OthoL
have entered, and you resolve to do so or £e!
and are now probably successful. Oh! how
magnificently are y^u rewarded for aU/your
P^°^- QP earth naught equals this stup^dous
€»¥©. Ou xrae^side ir a wsTMptl>vcf hgaT

■'^■■■r-

282

ALTHA3I.

a rocky semi-arch is formed, rivalling aught
that Milton, or his brother of the present day,
the poet painter, Martin, has imagined of grim
black shade, whilst even its dark terrific
beauty is surpassed by an unique display;
from some thirty feet from the summit, the
waters form a corresponding arc of deep
green ; thence downwards, the falling flood is
broken into ever changing but always beautiful,
most beautiful columns of white, forming now

imitations of the noblest productions of art,

now shewing whence they are derived from,

the teacher of art— nature, — when in sportive

mood she piles' in some vast cavern her

columns of stalactites in evefy conceivable

line of exquisite form. But where have we

deviated? From below the falls, from the

one spot where the temporarily paralyzed river

allows the daring voyager to cross her stream,

irom the shock she recovers as by magic, and

for some miles rushes along as though ashamed

of momentary inaction ; sometimes forming

foaming rapid*; again, whirling around, as

though half incUned to essay in an upward

jlirectioft that treniendoiis leap ; their^grown

f*\

ALTHAM.

283

more calm, recalling, as it were the intention
of her course, gliding along throtigh the few
remainmg obstacles, and passing through an
emboechure betwixt two lofty precipices of
more. than seven hundred feet, from which
vast height, in long past ages, her waters had
been precipitated ; and, as though brought by
the remembrance to entire submission to her
present fate, sweeps peacefully towards her
rest, m the bosom of Ontario, conscious that
though her course from birth to the gravci be
short, no rival can be found for her amoLst
tfie'-jivers pf the world.

The red cross flag of England, and wie
silver starred banner of the American uuil
floated half mast high on Forts George anl
Niagara, whose late hostile guns now boome^
their slow and solemn tribute to tlie noble
dead. From the former, filed a lon^ procession
of soldiers, with drooping ensigns' and arms
reversed, marching with saddened step to the
wailing time of a dead m?»rch. Two gun ^
carriages led the mournful array, followed by
led horses, the poor brute^s with drooping gait
appearing aware of the melanchoTfTrnporTor

. t '-aLi^ii^

^84

ALTHAM.

all around. On each of the dark carriages, the
soldiers' most fitting covering, his couWry's
fla^, was thrown, the shape of its folds
evincing its use.

" Upon each pall, in gloomy pomp arrayed, '

/^ aoldier's feathered cap and sword were laid."

Immediately behind, the biers was a carriage,

in which, altl^pu^h contrary to military usage,

followed as .phief momners the daughters of

the deceaied', attended by a young lady, and

an officer in the uniform of the British navy.

In vain before them was that glorious prospect

spread — their eyes saw it not, but their souls

felt ^the sublime music. The youngest of the

. jHsters had sobbed convulsively from the time

«ne had entered the carriage, but the elder was

for some time as though unconscious of all

around. After the dead march, the band had

ceased for a time; and when, again, its

mailings were heard, the bugles alone took

their theme from the national anthem; but,

oh ! how different was its effect, thrown into

minor. For the first time, a torrent of tears

relieved the broken hearted Alice Brock— for

ALTHAM.

285

her what had earth in reserve ? Isabellawept
with all a fond daughter's love — her kind
father ;' but still more deeply did she suflFer
for her sister. Almost at the same instant
that General Jirockieli, Mountmorris had
received his d6ath woknd. As soldiers the
end of both was happy, for victory had cheered
their last pangs, and their fainting eyes beheld
the enemy driven headlong- from the shores
which he had dared 4o'' pollute with his
presence. To poor Mountmorris the event
was- but that for which his weary heart panted.
Although his wound was from the first
pronounced mortal, he had lingered for a day
in perfect possession of his |feiities, and \f ith
scarcely a feeling of pain— of Ihis interval he
had availed himself, as will be seen. The
General and his Aid had been buried together
at Fort George, but the justly earned gratitude
of the' province had decreed a public funeral,
and a monument on the spot which they had
consecrated with their blood j and to this
place they were now being ijorrie. To the
honor of American good feeling be it told,
tliat^ at ^he first interment at Fort ^eorpT

"<^!

2H()

>AI.THAM.

(although ihe\war was then raging in full fury,)
the guns of tort Niagara, and tlm -drooped
banner^ paid the same tribute as now to the
illustrious dead, the funeral train reached the
magnificent heights of Queenston ; through a
long avenue of. those whom he had led to
victory, the body of their chief was borne,
whilst tears coursed' down many a war-
embrowned cheek. The service was read,
and the artillery uttered its thunders thrice!
The dead slept in their honored resting place,
and of the living were — ^forgotten,— save by
the sofitary group who, shunning the martial
music which cheered the returning troops,
directed their steps towards Drummond Ville.

Chapter XVIII.

* '■* * " Hear and mark,
To what end I have brought thee hither."

" Dublin, June 6th, 18—.
" My dear Nephew,

" I wiU not affect to deny that I have

deeply wronged you, and that it ^was in

despite of my utin(<st efforts, that the Irish

Coyrts have decided your claim to^ the title

^^states of Altham to be just. I d6 not

ev3n' profess to have been ignorant of your

nghts, or to have been unconscious of the

extreme generosity of the offers made me in

your letters of last year, from HaUfax ; but |

could not bear that it should b^ known to the

world, that Edward*s rank was held^ merely on

Sufferance. Heaven has justly "punished me, ,

V-,,

!• '•'

.«

A r

l/.

28^

ALTII.Ui.

^-v.'

{

It matters little to a forlorn ol(] man^to retain
Tiches and titles, of which he Knows himself to
be unjustly possessed^ I fiave, therefore,
pomraunicated to your friend, Mr. Bushe, that
I will npt offer further oppositioin ' to^ovt/
assuming yo^ full rights: In so doing, I
only obey the dying request of my poof
Edward. To my astonishment^ I received
from Mr. Bushe, a letter written by you, on
first learning yout cousin's death. Your
conduct- throughout has indeed been the
reverse of mine, in a degree most painful to
me to contemplate. Your generosity makes
no change in my plans, although, believe me,
I feel it 4eepiy. I haye been an apostate,
from,my religion, ai from every thing just and '^-
hoaorable. During ^y life I concealed that
I had early become a Convert from the Roman
Chiirch, fearing that it. might militate with
my- ambitious views. I have taken a small
sum, which ypu will not miss from large
accumulations, which you will find to. your
credit with my bankers, to enable me th
devote the remainder of my "existence to
heaven, without becoming a burthen tp thf '

ffc.

AtTIIAM.

289

poor brotherhood whom Lam about to -join.
I entreat your forgiveness for the' past, and .
-pray^that you will Mfrite, giving me an
i^ssuyance of it. I shall feel more hope Of
pardoii hereafter, if. you accord itr Trusting
that every good fortune may await you" which
I had hoped for my poor boy, remqgfcer me,
as your deeply sinning, but most severely
punished, uncle. *

V ^ ^ " RlCHAp^ANNESWlY.'*

" Dublin, June 10th, 18—.
" My dear Lorp, i >

" Mbst heartily do I congratulate you on .
the full recognition of your -rights, even by
jour uncle. My impression of his character •
is not m the least affected by his present
conduct. Prosperity he is mjit for, and the
revepses he has undergone, may 'enable him to '
deceive, even himself.* The e^fpression of his '
face, when he did me the honor of seelcing an
interview, was that of a wliippe(tcur, wbo l^ad
all the mclinatton to fly at once, but dared
Jiok and f ^^ it safer to^^awnr Whilst thlr—

VOL. IJ. ,p

■■%J

290

ALtHAW.

disposition lasted, (however brought about,)
I deemed it my duty to obtain sufficient
evidence of the falsehood of his pretensions.
Forgive my speaking thus of one allied so
nearly to yoti, but J distrust the man ; and
should it ever be in his power, with all his
present pretensions to an overflow of every
christian virtue, " then beware — woe unto
you — then would he grind and ruin, malign
and laugh at you." God pardon me, if there
be want of charity in this foreboding; but
charity, which is a love for my Triend, compels
me to let it stand as it is.

" In accordance with Lady Altham's wishes,
and those contained in; your letters, Dunmaine
has been put into thorough repair, and is now
ready. We ar^ all most anxious to see you
again. Lady Althara says, she is about to
write to you by this packet, so of her I say
nothing, save that which she may conceal, to
avoid giving you pain, that I fear her .health
is waning, so on all accounts hasten home.
As ever, my dear friend.

Most tmly yours,

ALTHAM.

291

" DuNMAixE, Stii June, 18—.
" My dearest Boy,

" I had always prayed, that I might Jive
long enoiigh to fold you again to my breast ;
now, lif^ doubly precious, as you hold out
the pros|ft of my being blessed with two
children at once. I have had a long conver-
sation with your kind friend, Mr. Dawkins;
he bids me tell you that, station apart, nothing
could please him better for his niece and war|
than seeing her married to one for whom %^
has sahigh an esteem. Nor is this'flattery, my
son. You have behaved in many most trying
positions, most nobly. Continue through life
thus to act— some moments you may, nay,
you will, experience the ingratitude of the
morally vulgar ; but you can fall back on your
own heart, and there find your recompense.
I have one favor to ask— when you have
secured your Isabella, hasten to your mother.
Assur^ your dear wife, that she also will find
a fond parent in

" M. A."

. - , _ J ^^'

292

ALTHAM.

Such were the contents of a package of
letters which reached our hero on his return
to Montreal. The Governor-General and Mr.
Dawkins had been named the joint-executors
of Sir Isaac Brock, and guardians of his
daughters. Annesley tooH the earliest oppor-

. tunity to communicate his feelings to Sir John.
All was smooth. His excellency told him,
that he \yas not oi^ly prepared! to consent on
his own behalf, biit had the f^U approval of
Mr. Dawkins. The blushing Isabella pleaded
delay, but her sister over-ruled her, by
instancing her own case, and pleading the
uncertainty of every thing earthly, and the
danger of trusting tl^the unknown future.
All was speedily arranged ; and, for once,
poor Alice" put off her mourning weeds, and
together with Mary Sherbrooke, attended the
loveliest bride that Montreal had seen for
years, to the altar, where she was given away
by the stately old soldier who represented his
sovereign in the province, to one, who never
during a long and happy life passed a day
which did not enhance his estimation of the

--value i5f tte ^. Shall we follow thefdrrufies

ALTHAM.

293

of the happy pair? ' Yes ; we cannot part
with them yet.

His Majesty's schooner, Mutine, lay to a
single anchor off Cape Diamond. Our old
. friend, Smith, paced the weather side of her
quarter-deck in solitary state, his well worn
frock displaying a narrow shp of lace on each
shoulder, denoting that he had attained the
rank of commander. IVfost impatiently did
he stride up and down tis short walk ; the
tide was just on the turn to ebb, the wind
fresh from W. S. W. ; every thing was ready
for sea, even his despatches being on board ;
but stUl, no signal 'was made for him to get
under way. His pace grew stUl quicker; he
remembered his old father and doating mother
pictmrmg their longings to embrace the son
who had brought them to so much honor
Most fondly, and not without an honest pride
did he remember the sacrifices they had made
were now not in vain. For many years he
had scarcely hoped they should meet again in
this world ; but now, with all, indeed far
more than all, that they had hoped for, ^^^
honorably earned promotion, he most ardently

294

ALTHAM.

longed to thank them — to say to them, see
what you have made of your son. In this
mood — how should it be otherwise, than that
impatience overmastered the usual coolness of
^ur friend — annoyed, impatient, restless, he
descended to the cabin, and whiffed a cigar,
with an energy quite out of place with a
fellow usually so quiet. Whilst thus employed,
a Midshipman entered.

" Please, sir, the Commodore wishes to
know, whether you can accommodate u
gentleman and two ladies, as passengers ? "

" How the devil am I to accommodate
theni here, sir ? *'

" What am I to answer, sir ? **

** That the Mutine has very short accom-
modations, even for her crew ; but that such
as they are, they are at the Commodore's
disposal. Perhaps he will let us go now ? "

Most industriously did Smith puff his
cigar; the Mutine's cabin was a perfect fog,
when the signal Midshipman again made his
appearance.

" I can't make out the meaning of the

"numbers that the Commodore makes. He

my boy —
on — answer

it can be;
illows, every

answering

ALTHAM. 295

wishes to | know, whether you cannot find
room for aji old friend—then ccjmes a 347—
a private signal I suppose, sir? "
" Let m|5 see — you are righ
347, the member of the old Shan
affirmatively, sir. I wonder wh
but no matljer, they were good
one. Brooke would not have aiiy that were
incorrigible, and he had the kna(|k of making
others all right."

The Commodore had made thl
pendant ; " but what is this, a Peer of the
realm, with his lady and sister-in-W, are
about to go on board the Mutine.*

" The devil, what can the big wigt be about ?
Surely, the Qommodore is not going to send
th^m passengers in the schooner ? "

Noj doubt could long exist however. The/
Comnjiodore's bkrge put ofi; evident^^ tending
to thd schooner.! The yards were nianned a^
she l^t thti fla^ ship, and the schooner, of
cours0, received her with similar honors;
escort^ by the teenior officer of the station,
>g of th e M our h^ro, w ith th^ ladies, ascended the vessel's
kes. He M side, [and was ^jrectoved by his" delighted

296

ALTHAM.

shipmate. After a cordial leave taking, the
Commodore returned to his ship ; the Mutine's
anchor was tossed up, and merrily she sped by
the numerous merchant craft, with a cracking
top-galiant breeze ; her commander and Altham
as happy as the renewal of valued association
could make them.

Nothing can be more agreeable than a run
across the Atlantic, to the eastward, in the
early fall. Once clear of the land, strong
favourable gales can be to a certainty counted
on, with merely a deviation from N. N. W., to
S.W. The Mutine made the most of them,
and in twenty days from Quebec, she brought
up at Portsmouth. A fortnight after, Lady
Altham received her long parted son, in the
house of his ancestors. Bushe, Harry Dawkins,
and his sister, were also there. Reader, you
can conceive a meeting which words are
inadequate to describe.

The day after the arrival at Dunmaine, Mr.
Quill received a summons to meet the young
Lord. The worthy Attorney endeavoured to
justify his conduct; in silent contempt our
here listened, not deeming him worthy of air^

ALTHAM.

297

ansvyer on that subject. When Mr. Quill
ceased, he at once entered on the matter
which had induced his sending for him.

"I have listened to the causes to which
you wish to attribute the course you adopted
towards ^me ; you are? beneath my vengeance, •
so let these events be' forgotten. I have
transferred -my agenc/ to Mr. Buslie. I
required^ your presence, to ask what you
intend doing for him, as I learn that he is
aliout to marry."

•• Shortly then, my Lord, I answer you—
nothing. He has not so conducted himself
as to earn my good wjll, however useful he
may have been to jour Lordship. By giving
him your agency, you pl^ce him in a sufficiently
thriving way ; and, klthoi^gh it is at my
expense, I am not sojry for it: I, however,
shall do nothing for' hik."

" There go two words to a bargain, Mr. Quill.
I am in possession df certain documents, of
which here is a list, ijli the han(|^ting of our
mutual acquaintance,^ Ingram."

Quill, with professional impassiveness

- listened, until the n^ntiongDf Ingram's name ;

298

ALTHAM.

but then^ a sudden pallor rendered his face
ghastly; nor did the perusal of the list
dissipate his terror — it was some time ere he
could ask —

" What does your Lordship require of me ? "

" That you do justice to Bushe — ^you are

better aware how you stand than I can be,

although I know much more than you

could wish."

" I little thought, that any one now living
was aware of the affair to which you allude.
Bushe shall have his own — I never meant
eventually to have k^pt him out of it ; I
merely looked on ^myself as my nephew's
natural guardian."

Annesley knew as much as the man of the
moon, to what the Attorney referred ; but he
felt, that some new villmny was about to come
to light ; he, therefore, merely remarked —

" You are well aware, thaf the documents
in my possession, are amply sufficient to rid
society of one who certainly deserves little
forbearance at my hands — for Bushe's sake, if
you make him ample reparation, I am willing
^ let you escape;-' -

ALTHAM.

299

" Well, my Lord, I have told you, that I
always intended to do so. His mother
inherited property which should have been
mine ; and I thought it of no use to let Amos
know of it, as he was far more Ukely to gqt on
in tjie world without. I am now ready to hand
it oVer to him ; the more so, as your Lordship's
ageilcy will put him in a safe position."

" You are even a greater villain than I had
supposed—never look blank, man. Of this
property you have, for the first time, informed
me ; but, sir, with its restoration— now, that
I know all, I shall not be content — my silence
must be purchased by a handsome settlement
on Amos' bride."

" But where am I to find Qjeans, my Lord?
Boy as you are, you have outwitted me— what
put it into your head, to talk qf doing Amos
justice ? " t

" Your conscience, if you have such a thing ;
or rather your guilty fears, Mr. Quill, have
over-strained my words. As to where you are
to find the means,. I am ^ware that you are
very rich— I only hope, that the ill-gott en pelf
may not bring a Wight with iTto^ushe.''

300

ALTHAM.

" My Lord, you run me too hard perhaps,
even for Bushe's welfare. You do not suppose,
that forty years practice as an attorney, ha^ left
me so totally defenceless as (my indiscretion
notwithstanding,) you would, have it appear.
What, if I refuse to be dictated to, by you4^ "
" Tak« your own course, Mr. Bushe I
, expect Mr. Torrens her^ to-morrow, and^have
also received a promise of a visit from ^Mr.
Daly. To Mr. Torrens I shaU report all you
said about Bushe's rights, which will te a quite
sufficient clue for him ; and, as a Magistrate,
I should imagine, that Mr. Daly will not refuse
to take cognizance of the trifling errors brought
about by you, in the registry of the parish.
Ha, Mr. Quill, what say you ? Bushe's rights
must be first, in any case, clearly ascertained ;'
-^and further, you must secure to Mr. Toirens'
Vull satisfaction, £10,000 to him, on your
death, togethef with interest thereon during
.your life." "- ' ^

^, Quill drew a deep breath, half-gasp, half-sigh .

" My Lord," he said, " I accept your terms

p now, at last, for those cureed f^apers."
_x-i-" N ot ^last^ Mr. Qui l ls X ^ave made an -

;

ALTHAM.

301

offer—you have accepted^'it. I know not
whether I have done full justice to my ji-iend;
nevertheless, my character, is pigged as a
negociator, and the treaty shall be carried out
to the letter ; but not until Torrens has assured
me, that your gart is ^filled."

" You expect me then to place myself
entirely in your power, my Lord ? "

" I do — we each know with whom we have
to deal. Af this moment you fed perfectly
assured, that every thing I state^ I will perform,
whilst to say the truth, Mr.' Quill, I have no
earthly reason for placing a similar depeodence
on you." ]

" My Lord, 1/ take my leave — ^you know
where I am to be found in Galway.'*

" You may take your leave with all my
heart, Mr. Attorney ; 6n my Hehalf, none, save
a constable, shall seek you in Galwayy Come,
sir, lay aside yiur- airs— Mr. Torrens will be
here to-morrow, and if all I demanded be not
done to that gehtlemau's satisfaction, I shall
be guided by hiih what steps to take."

How Mr. Quill felt, as he rode down the
-stately^inrcnttei^f pmimal^^^^^^

» /

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302

^-'r.

^HASl.

ours ; all we know, is, that ere the young
noble was up next morning, th^ ^ilpl^wing
note was handed him.

*■) f

" My Lord,

" I am in your hands, so am obliged to
subscribe to the hard terms you prescribed
yesterday. I will wait on Mr. Torrens before
noon, and with the papers I shall put' into his
hands, he can prepare the necessary dbcumehts,
which I will sign.

Your Lordship's

Obedient servant, ,

"T. Quill."
Right IlonoraJ^le , --.

Earl of Annesley.

Mr. T&^^IM his brother of the Toga
were closetted together in the hbrary, for an
hour. The jolly face of the former beamed
with animation, as he met the young Earl
a f ter th e interview. *^ E g ^d, myLord^Mir

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303

said, " you have eased Mr. Quill's conscience
considerably ; and I, too, have not been idle
on Bushe's behalf. My brother practitioner
very: reluctantly yielded,, an account of th^
accuo^ulations during his guardianship, — so
that our friend Amos, is at th^ moment, a
parti by no means to be slighted by fortune
hunting misses."

" Do you know his views in that way, Mr.
Torrens?" •• \ '

" I have a shrewd guess,- my Lord."
" And what think you of his chance."
" That even without, your Lordship's
patrondge, or this most unexpected piece of
good fortune, he needed not have doubted a
cordial recefition, as he is a particiilar favorite
of my old friend; and if I am not much
deceived, something more than a friend of
Miss Mary's. Of course, he will be none the
less welcome for possessing a fortume.^1

"^he sooner it comes off the better. . My
wife and her poor sister set their hearts on
having Mary Dawkins for a neighbour, and I
cami&t make up my mind to part with

304

ALTHAM.

CONCLUSION.

Reader, we have wandered many thousand
leagues together, over flood and field— we trust
^. you are not tired of this companionship. Ere
^"^bidding you farejvell, we gladly avail ourselves
of the supposition, that you may desire som^
infdrmation about the other parties who figure
in our tale.; A young colonist, the son of a
staunch United Empire loyalist, who had
struck new root in the province, and had, by his
industry, surrounded his home .with every thing
really to be wished for in the way of comfort,
nay even of luxury, met Mary Sherbrooke
at Government house. The young farmer's
father had been an old and esteemed comrade
of Sir John. The staunch adherence of the
veterans to the glorious standard, beneath
whose protecting folds they were bom, had led
to different results— to one it had brought
rewards ; to the other, in his old age, forfeiture
of property,— with, however, the ennobling
consciousness that he had done his duty, and
--4h©^ applause Tjf iris associares: STr ^ohiT"

5 t .

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305

received his ancient friend with open arms;
and his own means being ample, saw with
pleasure a growing attachment between young
Sherwood and his daughter. They were
married ; and in their happy home on the
majestic St. Lawrence, the time-honored old
soldiers fought full many a time their battles
over again. On the marriage, young Sherwood
wished naturally enough to introduce his bride
to the home which his family had forfeited in
the revolutionary struggle. They ascended
together the fair lake-born river, enjoying the
. exquisite beauty of its archepelago of the thou-
sand isles — crossed Ontario's bright waters.
No Rochester then existed; but they saw
with delight, the beautiful falls of the Genesse.
It was summer, and the stream barely curtained
the bold outhne of the rock beneath, with a veil
of misty spray. For many days they travelled
southwards •— the roads were for jwheeled
vehicles horrible, but Mary was a practiced
horse woman. Every night they found accom-
modation in happy smiling homes, where,
although cust oms slight ly differed from those ^

of the English provinces, the cordial welcome

YOL. II. u

•i.'a.ii^r^i -, ji'ssii'lLi^'ktiiJ;* Ji-^il^

30G

ALTIIAM.

to the hospitable hearth bespoke the kindred
origin of the inhabitants. Many a time had
young Sherwood detailed to his blooming
bride, his father's descriptions of their forfeited
home, with its foaming rivulet dashing through
a rich valley embosomed in wooded hills — the
old farm house in the Dut^ style, surrounded
by its capacious and well'^cked farm yard —
nay, the very ford by Vllwli the streamlet was
crossed, wis so well imprinted on his memory,
that he had no difficulty iu identifying the
place at the first glance. True it is, that the
woods had disappeared, their place being
occupied by golden crops ; and, that the
stream, which in olden times rushed, along
unimpeded, save by a single dam which
furnished power for a small grist mill, now,
in its descent, was used throughout, by the
several trades required in a flourishing neigh-
bourhood. A beautiful evening spread its veil
of blue mist over the valley — gaily carolled
the lassies, as they passed either towards the
pastures, or on their return with foaming pails.
A neatly framed bridge had superseded the
ford'— 'our travellers crossed it j and now, the

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307

road wound round a high rocky eliff, and they
are in full sight of the goal^of their pilgrimage.
The stqut old mansion, composed of wood,
seemed in perfect repair ; it was embowered
with Virginian vine and other creepers, masses
of which rambled round4he numerous dormant
windows in the thrice pitched roof. Around,
were all the testimonies of industrial wealth—
the well ordered fences, and luxuriant waving
crops, giving evidence of the flourishing farmer.
Sherwood reined-in his horse, and sat gazing
on the old house for some moments. " There,
Mary," said he at length, « is my father's
home ; let us see who are now its occupants."^
They approached— an old lady was knitting,
seated in a large rocking chair, on the stoop;
beside her, an exceedingly pretty girl, with
soft blue eyes and fair complexion, yet with
long eye-lashes and tresses of jet, was spinning.
As the party approached, the younger ceased
her work; and, as they pulled up their horses
in front of the enclosure, told her mother,
who being blind, had not noticed them. Mr.
^crwood alighted, threw his rein- to the_^

^.,

groom, arid apologizing to Mary for a few

808

ALTHAM.

moments absehce, approached the ladies— the
youuger stood up to receive him.

" May I ask, young lady," he said, " who
lives here? " At the first sound of his voice
the knitter suspended her toil. " Who was he
that spoke, my daughter^"

" I do not know, mother — the gentleman
is a stranger." /,

" Who are you, Sir ? Either my ears deceive
me sadly dr 1 know your voice, though many
years have passed since I heard it. Harry,
my own brother, is it not you ? "

" My name indeed is Harry, and you must
be my aunt Elsie — my father loves to talk
of you."

" Come hither, my nephew — God be praised
that I again meet one of my darling brother's
children. But I heard other horses — whose
are they?" .

" Those of my wife and servants, aunt."
" You are all welcome here, my boy — bid
them enter. Strange changes have passed
over us, whether for good or ill; but it
would be stranger still, were you and yoiir wife
ijotwelcome^T Bouse Mich ought to h^

.4s.'*,!A'^'

.t?s

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309

dearly
justly

been your own j although at one tiine,
as I loved your Mi^ I thqughtj it
forfeited."

Most warmly was Mary greeted by her
husband's kindred.^ Nearly an hojirJpassed
quickly in the society of the ladies; together
with the fat rosy son of the younger, a glorious
boy of a year old. The other parent of the
child- appeared^ — little changed was| he from
the first time we introduced him. In fact, the
costume of Jake Van Ransellaer, on board the
Xarifa, , in Galway bay, very much better
befitted the thriving Yankee farmer.!

Kind reader, for the present farewell— if
Altham gives us the privilege, we hope soon
to renew our acquaintance.

THE EXD.

-■4

CORK :

OKORCK rUKCKLL AXD CO., iTATRlCK STRHBT.

■I