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 AliTMUB. IHLA-]L]L,¥1E.TF]E S? C?
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 A STORY, 
 FOUNDED ON FACTS. 
 
 BY MRS. HOFLAND, 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 
 THE clergyman's WIDOW, YOUNG CRUSOE; BLIND 'FARMER ; 
 
 THE sisters; barbadoes girl; merchant's widow; 
 
 PANORAMA OP EUROPE; Y'OUNG NORTHERN TRAVELLER; 
 DAUGHTER-IN-LAW ; AFFECTIONATE BROTHERS ; WILLIAM 
 AND HIS UNCLE BEN ; GOOD GRANDMOTHER ; ELIZABETH 
 AND HER THREE BEGGAR BOYS; ALICIA AND HER AUNT; 
 
 godmother's talks ; &c., &c. 
 
 There might you have beheld one joy crown another so, 
 and in such a manner, that it seemed sorrow wept to take 
 leave of them, for their joy waded in tears. 
 
 Shakespeare, 
 
 Keto (IBlritton. 
 
 LONDON: 
 ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE AND CO., 
 
 PATERNOSTER ROW
 
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 The following Story, in its principal 
 incidents, was published in the Juvenile 
 Souvenir for 1828; but being necessarily 
 curtailed so much as to exclude that de- 
 velopment of mind in the subject of the 
 tale, and those affecting circumstances 
 which give deep interest to his long and 
 extraordinary escape, it is now offered to 
 the youthful public in a more finished 
 state. 
 
 It is perhaps necessary to repeat, that 
 the Story of the Stolen Boy is founded 
 
 629375
 
 IV 
 
 on facts, which were communicated to 
 the writer by Mr. Parker, a gentleman 
 now in this country, but who resided at 
 Nachitoches at the period of the boy's 
 return, where the circumstance created 
 considerable sensation among all classes 
 of the community who became acquainted 
 with the extraordinary escape of the boy.
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 *' Deab father, pray come and look at some of 
 the strangest people that ever were seen, who 
 are sitting opposite to the garden. They are 
 not gipsies, such as we used to see in Spain, 
 but yet they seem to be wanderers like them, 
 and to live out of doors. They all look as grave 
 as judges, and have very comical-looking clothes. 
 Do pray come and see them." 
 
 Such was the entreaty addressed to Don Ma- 
 nuel del Perez by his son, a boy between eight 
 and nine years of age, a few days after himself 
 and family had arrived at the town of San An- 
 tonio, in the province of Texas, a country which 
 joins Louisiana, on the coast of the Gulf of 
 Mexico. 
 
 Don Manuel's family consisted of an amiable 
 
 A3
 
 6 THE STOLEN BOY, 
 
 wife (Donna Seraphina), the son we have al- 
 ready introduced, a daughter two years younger, 
 and a babe of six months old. 
 
 Little Manuel was a sensible, active, lively 
 boy, and being newly released from the confine- 
 ment of a long voyage, beheld the new scene 
 around him with great delight ; but never had 
 his dark eyes glistened with so much] pleasure 
 as now, or his inquiries on subjects of curiosity 
 been made with so much interest. His kind 
 father, therefore, did not hesitate to go out with 
 him to see the objects of his attraction; and 
 having done so, he replied thus, in answer to his 
 inquiries : — " These people, my dear Manuel, 
 are Indians, the descendants of the original in- 
 habitants of America. Like those of other con- 
 tinents, they are divided into tribes or nations, 
 none of whom are fond of European settlers, 
 though some are friendly in appearance. These 
 people are come to trade with us, and will, I 
 doubt not, conduct themselves with great pro- 
 priety. I perceive they are of the tribe of Choc- 
 taws, who, with another called Cadows, never 
 come hither for any other than peaceable er- 
 rands." 
 
 " And do they all go half naked, father, and
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 7 
 
 paint themselves so strangely, like these poor 
 creatures?" 
 
 " They all greatly resemble each other, and 
 term themselves, aptly enough, 'red men,' as you 
 see their skin is copper-colour. They are, as you 
 must perceive, finely-formed athletic men, spare 
 of flesh, in consequence of their temperance, 
 but possessing much muscular strength, which 
 results from their habits of exercise. Their 
 countenances are indicative of deep thought, 
 mingled with an expression of cunning and fe- 
 rocity." 
 
 " As they looked so very grave, I took them 
 to be good people, father, only ignorant. Do 
 you take them to be so ?" 
 
 " Indeed I do not, Manuel." 
 
 The poor boy, looking exceedingly disap- 
 pointed at this short answer, which by no means 
 accorded with the benevolent wishes of his warm 
 little heart, Don Manuel soothed him by adding 
 — "My dear, though I am not partial to the In- 
 dians, many people are, and I dare say there are 
 persons in San Antonio who can give you many 
 instances of their good properties. It is certain 
 they are very hospitable, for they will sufl'er no 
 stranger to enter their abode, without [relieving
 
 8 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 his wants ; and even if he is of a white nation 
 with whom they are at war, they will treat him 
 with kindness, and conduct him in safety be- 
 yond their own precincts. And although they 
 consider us (with great justice) as intruders on 
 their land, yet when they sell any portion of it, 
 they rigidly adhere to their bargain, and depart 
 altogether to a proper distance. In their less 
 important concerns, they are not less punctual ; 
 and if they agree to bring a certain quantity of 
 skins (which are the principal produce with 
 which they supply us), we may always depend 
 upon them, even if we had paid them before- 
 hand, in the spirits, arms, and blankets, they 
 require from us." 
 
 *' Then surely they are very honest, good 
 people ?" said Manuel, eagerly. 
 
 "These qualities are very good, certainly, my 
 dear, and cannot be too much praised ; but there 
 are other points about them, that more than 
 counterbalance their virtues. They are so re- 
 vengeful, as to be never known to forgive an 
 injury, even though it was inflicted on a distant 
 relation, and could have nothing to do with 
 their personal feelings. They are so bigoted to 
 their former opinions and customs, as to resist
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 9 
 
 all improvement, thereby rendering the gift of 
 reason useless ; and, what is far worse, they are 
 so cruel, and they destroy prisoners of war by 
 the most horrible torments, a conduct, of all 
 others, most repellant to our ideas of justice, 
 which teaches all men to respect that valour in 
 another, which he is proud of in himself." 
 
 *' That is very wicked, certainly — do these 
 Choctaws do this ?" 
 
 " All the Indian nations do it, the Choctaws 
 among the rest. The Alonquas are, however, 
 much worse than these, for they are cannibals, 
 which even the Indians consider to be hateful. 
 The Cumanches are a nation scarcely less 
 dreaded, for although they do not eat their vic- 
 tims, they sacrifice more than other tribes do, 
 since they not only frequently torture their pri- 
 soners of war, but those unhappy people whom 
 they seize in their robbing expeditions, which 
 are frequent. These people are remarkable for 
 always travelling on horseback, and their ap- 
 pearance, even at a considerable distance, never 
 fails to inspire terror in our settlements, as it is 
 well known that they are in quest of plunder, 
 and will stop at no means to attain it. They 
 frequently take away a great number of mules
 
 10 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 and horses, and never fail to murder their 
 owners, unless they reserve them for more cruel 
 sport at their own residence." 
 
 Manuel looked very grave whilst Don Manuel 
 spoke, but as he was not told that these terrific 
 tribes ever visited San Antonio, their enormities 
 of conduct soon vanished from his mind ; and 
 being permitted to cultivate an acquaintance 
 with the Choctaws, he soon became amused and 
 interested, in the greatest degree, with every 
 thing concerning them. 
 
 Like most lively children of an enterprising 
 temper, he was delighted with their power of 
 throwing the hatchet, shooting with bows and 
 arrows, tracing the woods through impervious 
 paths, and enduring pain and hunger without 
 complaint ; and he soon learnt so to practise 
 these accomplishments, as greatly to surprise 
 his mother and sister, the latter of whom was 
 charmed to see him dressed in a coronet of 
 feathers, and a pair of mocassins. In the course 
 of their intercourse, he also picked up a good 
 deal of their language ; for being much struck 
 with the attitude and delivery of one of their 
 orators, he could not help earnestly desiring to 
 know what he was saying, and never rested till
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 11 
 
 he had so far attained it, as to comprehend all 
 their common forms of speech, and their names 
 of those things amongst them in general use. 
 
 When the Choctaw tribe had finished their 
 bargains, had received their rum, brandy, guns, 
 beads, and blankets, they returned to their own 
 distant settlements, but not before many of their 
 wisest and gravest chiefs had exhibited that ter- 
 rible propensity to drunkenness, which is such 
 a remarkable trait in their characters. Manuel 
 was much shocked at this degradation, and for 
 some time ceased to praise them as he was wont, 
 or to display the feats of activity they had taught 
 him ; and the circumstance of his father's pur- 
 chasing a large house at a little distance from 
 the town, and the pleasure and trouble of re- 
 moving thither, soon occupied his mind so much, 
 that he nearly forgot his old friends the " Silver 
 Fox " and the " Black Bear," and began, as 
 little Inez, his sister, told him, " to find himself 
 very happy with his own family, even though 
 they wore decent clothes, cat good dinners, 
 washed their faces in pure water,^and prayed 
 to God, as good Christians, both night and 
 morning."
 
 12 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 Don Manuel had suffered his son to mix much 
 with the Indians, from a persuasion that the 
 love of exercise they were likely to inspire, 
 could hardly fail to be beneficial to a Spanish 
 boy, being well aware that his nation are (gene- 
 rally speaking) much too indolent ; and being a 
 sensible, well-informed man, calculated for re- 
 siding in any country, and learning what was 
 most valuable in each, he wished to render his 
 son alike fitted to become a citizen of the world. 
 He was not, however, sorry to see that the boy 
 returned to his usual avocations with pleasure, 
 and he determined that when he had passed his 
 ninth birthday, he should enter on a more regu- 
 lar course of study than had hitherto been re- 
 quired from him, the course of his education 
 having unavoidably been interrupted by the 
 voyage to America, and the unsettled state of 
 the family before they could procure a perma- 
 nent abode. 
 
 The birthday of their eldest son was fixed 
 upon, by his affectionate parents, as a proper 
 time for ^ivinsr a suitable entertainment to the
 
 THE STOLEN BOY= 13 
 
 principal inhabitants of San Antonio ; and ac- 
 cordingly liis entrance into his tenth year was 
 celebrated with the united luxuries of the old 
 world and the new; and for the day, Manuel 
 was treated with much consideration as well as 
 affection. He had a handsome new dress for 
 the occasion, and among other presents, he re- 
 ceived, from one of the guests, a very beautiful 
 galloway, suited for his age and size ; and as he 
 had learned to ride, it will readily be conceived 
 that nothing cmild exceed the pleasure he pro- 
 mised himself with this pretty animal, which 
 had been properly broken in for him, and on 
 which he'mounted in the presence of his mo- 
 ther, and the ladies of her party. The address 
 with which he managed his steed, the grace of 
 his motions, and the firmness and agility he dis- 
 played, excited the admiration of every one : 
 and the heart of the fond mother beat high in 
 her bosom, as she inwardly predicted the future 
 greatness of her beloved boy ; whilst her young 
 daughter, not less happy, bounded round her 
 brother, extolling all he did to the skies, and 
 allowing (for the first time) that even the Choc- 
 taws had improved him in some things ; " for 
 though they did not teach him to ride, yet they 
 
 s
 
 14 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 did teach him to shoot, and he could now do 
 both, at the same time, most surprisingly." 
 
 All pleasure, as well as pains, must have- an 
 end ; and poor Manuel, in despite of his tempo- 
 rary greatness, at length sunk into such deep 
 repose, that it encroached considerably on the 
 following day ; but his parents would not allow 
 him to be disturbed, because he had never been 
 up so late before. In consequence, when other 
 persons were inclined to take their siesta after 
 dinner, Manuel was quite upon the alert, and 
 instead of going to sleep, determined to pay a 
 visit to his pretty horse, and perhaps take a 
 short ride with the groom. Accordingly, having 
 received a nod of approbation from his father, 
 he went up to the stables, which lay at some 
 distance from the house, and finding there 
 Diego, a favourite servant, who had accompa- 
 nied the family from Spain, he began immedi- 
 ately to beg he would saddle the new favourite 
 for him, and accompany him a little distance. 
 
 Diego readily promised to fulfil his wishes, 
 but observed, " that he must, in the first place, 
 put the finishing stroke to what he was about, 
 which was cleaning a very fine mare of his mas- 
 ter's, which had been out that morning."
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 15 
 
 To this, of course, the boy made no objection, 
 and he continued to caress his own pet, and 
 feed him with the best food in the stable, whilst 
 the man pursued his task. 
 
 In a moment both were astonished by a loud 
 outcry, of a nature which was utterly incompre- 
 hensible to them, since it neither resembled the 
 roaring of wild beasts, nor the voices of human 
 beings ; it was wild, terrible, and wonderful — 
 advanced nearer every moment — and was soon 
 heard in conjunction with the sound of horses' 
 feet. When this sound struck on the servant's 
 ear, he exclaimed — " This must be the Cuman- 
 ches — fly, my dear young master, fly to the 
 house this moment !" 
 
 But all flight was impossible — even whilst he 
 spoke, the stable was entered by a whole troop 
 of terrible-looking Indians. Diego was seized 
 on the instant, and hurried out by two of them ; 
 and although Manuel instinctively crept under 
 the animal he was caressing, he, too, was pre- 
 sently seen, and felt a strong arm dragging him 
 from his hiding-place. All resistance appeared 
 vain, and only likely to produce instant death ; 
 but Manuel for some moments called on his 
 father, in a loud shrieking voice, and afterwards 
 
 B 2
 
 16 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 knelt and held up his hands in supplication to the 
 ferocious savage who stood nearest him, Alas ! 
 both were in vain ; his father at that moment 
 slept, unconscious of all danger; and the only 
 sensation produced in the breast of the savage 
 by his entreaties, was that of contempt ; never- 
 theless, as he perceived that he was a hand- 
 some, well-grow^n boy, and from the situation 
 in which he found him, likely to be conversant 
 with the management of horses, and was, more- 
 over, richly dressed, he determined on taking 
 him with them, in preference to stifling his cries 
 by killing him on the spot. 
 
 In a few moments the poor little boy was 
 dragged out, j^laced on a tall horse, and held 
 there with an irresistible arm, by the strong 
 Indian, whose particular prize he was made. 
 The horses and mules were all taken out, save 
 one deemed too old to be useful, and each of 
 them being secured by a noose, was led off by 
 one or other of the Indians, poor Diego being 
 bound fast to one of them, and led off with the 
 rest. Whilst this was doing, hope revived in 
 the breast of Manuel, and, despite of his situa- 
 tion in the gripe of the barbarian, he shouted 
 aloud, though Diesjo called on him to desist, as
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 17 
 
 he expected every moment to see him murdered 
 in consequence. The poor boy knew that there 
 were plenty of fire-arms in the house, and many 
 hands that would rush to his assistance, and the 
 dear home which he then beheld with his eyes, 
 he hoped could be reached with his tongue ; 
 and in the frantic agony of the moment, it is 
 certain that his shrieks could have reached the 
 ears of the family, they were so loud and pierc* 
 ing, had they not been exhausted by the fatigues 
 of the preceding day. 
 
 All this was but the work of a few moments, 
 and Manuel soon found himself riding at a pro- 
 digious rate, in a direction he had never gone 
 before ; and being sensible that he might scream 
 himself to death to no purpose, he ceased, and 
 tried to comfort himself with the hope that they 
 would shortly be pursued by his father and the 
 servants. As his enslaver kept at the head of 
 the troop, he was many times deceived with 
 false hopes, when he heard the trampling of 
 horses near him ; and at one time, so sanguine 
 were his expectations, that he called out — • 
 " Courage, Diego ! they are following us ; we 
 shall soon be rescued." 
 
 " I can see, master, though you can't,"' an- 
 
 B 3
 
 18 THK STOLEN BOY. 
 
 swered the afflicted man, "and I perceive no 
 help of any kind. Besides, how can they pur- 
 sue us to good purpose, when there is not a 
 single creature left for them to ride on ?'* 
 
 This melancholy recollection had not once oc- 
 curred to the mind of the boy, who had hitherto 
 buoyed himself up with the hope that his father 
 would follow at the head of his friends and ser- 
 -vants, whose guns and pistols he almost in- 
 stantly expected to hear, thinking such sounds 
 would be the sweetest in the world to him, and 
 being willing to be wounded, and almost killed, 
 so he might escape from the Indians. When, 
 however, he recollected that indeed all the horses 
 were gone, that his father would be obliged to 
 send for others from San Antonio, and that the 
 time which would elapse, rendered it utterly 
 improbable that he could overtake them before 
 their arrival in those interminable forests to- 
 wards which they were directing their flight, his 
 heart sank into despair, and he wept in bitter 
 anguish for several hours. 
 
 The Indians, on entering the woods, slack- 
 ened their pace, and rode on in silence, thread- 
 ing their way through the dark labyrinth of tall 
 trees, with a precision and ability which, under
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 19 
 
 other circumstances, would have recalled to the 
 mind of Manuel his admiration of his old friends, 
 the Choctaws ; but he was much too unhappy 
 to notice any external circumstance. Often had 
 he wished to penetrate these sublime forests, to 
 see those stately trees which rise higher than 
 the towers of cathedrals, and whose branches 
 are frequently adorned by beautiful flowers, at 
 the same time that their trunks are entwined by 
 other flowers, of the most dazzling colours and 
 beautiful forms, presenting altogether an assem- 
 blage of the richest stores of nature. To him, 
 these things were at this moment totally disre- 
 garded, for every moment that bore him further 
 from his beloved parents and home was a new 
 cause for sorrow, and every faculty of his mind 
 and his memory was absorbed in the sorrow of 
 his heart. Even the terror which rested on the 
 future, as far as regarded his personal safety, 
 was, for the present, suspended, and grief for 
 the loss of his beloved parents filled his bosom, 
 to the exclusion of every other regret.
 
 20 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 About midnight the whole party emerged from 
 different paths, as it appeared, into an open 
 glade, of considerable extent, through which a 
 clear rivulet wound its way in a wavy line, the 
 banks of which were covered with fine soft grass 
 of the purest emerald hue. The moon was at 
 this time high in the blue heavens, and the rays 
 reflected in the stream, as it rippled over a bed 
 of white pebbles, were so brilliant, that for a 
 moment they roused the languid spirits of poor 
 Manuel. He cast his eyes upwards, and said — 
 *' Surely there is a God in that beautiful heaven, 
 who looks down on this earth, for it is very 
 beautiful too, and he will take pity on me, and 
 deliver me some time." 
 
 The Indians tied their horses to trees, and 
 their prisoners also, in such a manner that the 
 former could obtain food, but to the latter they 
 did not offer any ; neither were they observed 
 to take any thing themselves, notwithstanding 
 the many hours in which they must have been 
 without, and the great fatigue they had encoun- 
 tered. Dirgo lamented this privation exceed-
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 21 
 
 ingly, and dwelt pathetically on the comforts 
 his supper was wont to afford him ; but his 
 wants were at this time not equally felt by 
 Manuel, for his sorrow had completely taken 
 away his appetite, and notwithstanding his ex- 
 treme fatigue, his mind was actively employed 
 in weighing the possibility of escape, whilst the 
 Indians lay asleep around them. His ideas 
 were revealed to Diego, who was not less alive 
 to the subject ; but they both soon perceived 
 (with that dismay which can only be justly esti- 
 mated by those who have suffered similar mis- 
 fortunes) that although their ligaments did not 
 appear strong, they were so ingeniously con- 
 trived, that it was impossible to unbind them, 
 and also, that they were actually fastened to an 
 Indian, whom on arising, they would inevitably 
 awake. This discovery, of course, plunged 
 them still deeper into affliction ; and the night 
 was spent by each in fruitless lamentations, 
 which were, in one sense, solitary ones also, 
 since they were at a considerable distance from 
 each other ; and this proof of the ability of the 
 Indians led them to suspect that they might 
 understand as much of their language as would 
 render conversation imsafe ; and the only con-
 
 22 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 solation left to the unhappy prisoners was thus 
 denied them. 
 
 Diego did, however, venture to hint to Ma- 
 nuel, that it would be advisable for him by no 
 means to let the savages understand he had 
 learnt any of their language from the Choctaws, 
 as he observed — " That if he appeared to gain 
 it from them, it would give them an idea of his 
 extraordinary quickness, which would not fail 
 to render them kind to him, and that during 
 the time when he was supposed to be entirely 
 ignorant of it, they would converse freely before 
 him, and he might learn what they intended to 
 do with their prisoners." 
 
 This advice proved to be very good, as it af- 
 terwards answered both these purposes. If it 
 had not been given, poor Manuel would have 
 acted precisely in a contrary manner, as it was 
 his intention to beg the chief to release him, and 
 restore him to his parents, in his own tongue, 
 which he hoped would have a greater effect 
 upon him than his supplications hitherto, and 
 for that purpose he had been trying to recollect 
 every word which could be supposed to move 
 him. He now abandoned this idea, and deter- 
 mined to observe Diego's suggestions, remem-
 
 THE STOI/E]S BOY. 23 
 
 bering that the Indians were little likely to 
 forego their intentions from any entreaties of 
 his, as all he had learnt from their own people, 
 or others, induced him to consider them in- 
 flexible : he was also persuaded, that his father 
 would pursue them even to the Red River, on 
 the banks of which he knew there were many 
 settlers ; and therefore, if they could gain time, 
 they would eventually be restored to San An- 
 tonio. 
 
 The Indians, after a few hours' slumber, 
 started up with celerity, liberated their horses 
 and their prisoners, and after mounting and se- 
 curing them as before, resumed their journey. 
 It continued for about two hours longer, in the 
 same woody kind of country, but after that, was 
 continued over an immense plain, great part of 
 which was exceeding swampy, and, of course, 
 bad for the horses. 
 
 Diego observed — "That no European could 
 have passed it with safety, nor indeed any other 
 creature than an Indian, who, he firmly believed, 
 was endued with more senses than his fellow- 
 mortals, and therefore, in his opinion, akin to 
 the devil." 
 
 When Manuel was enabled in anv measure to
 
 24 TFIK STOLEN BOY, 
 
 overcome the severe grief which at this period 
 might be said to bow him to the earth, he was 
 more happy than his fellow- sufferer, in not 
 thinking so ill of the persons by whom they 
 were taken as he did. In fact, within a few 
 months, Manuel had loved the Indians with en- 
 thusiasm, entered into their pursuits with plea- 
 sure, studied and extolled their virtues, excused 
 their faults, and even fancied that he should 
 enjoy their manner of living ; so that it ap- 
 peared possible, that if he were not destined for 
 slaughter, he might exist amongst them happily 
 enough. Far different was it with poor Diego; 
 he was more than thirty years of age, his habits 
 were all confirmed, and it had been no small 
 trial for him to leave Europe at all, though his 
 affection for his master had led him to a country 
 which he considered uncivilized at the best — of 
 course, the prospect before him was doubly ap- 
 palling ; and although he bore it like a man, 
 and a Christian also, by lifting up his heart to 
 God, and praying for resignation, yet his spirits 
 were depressed with the deepest sorrow, and 
 he would have been thankful for relief, even by 
 the hands of death. He had heard of the 
 cruelty of the Indians to their prisoners ; and
 
 THE STOLE^J BUY. 25 
 
 tliey never turned their eyes upon him but he 
 expected they were about to scalp him ; and it 
 might be truly said — 
 
 " He died a thousand deaths in fearing one.'^ 
 
 About noon, the party again entered a mighty 
 forest, to the great relief of poor Manuel, who 
 had long suffered from the heat, and whose 
 galled and wearied limbs, when at length they 
 alighted, refused to sustain him when he was 
 taken from the horse, so that he fell as if dead 
 on the roots of a huge tree, beneath which the 
 party were assembling. On seeing this, his new 
 master gave him some water from a calibash, 
 which was extremely refreshing to him, and af- 
 terwards some maize so prepared as to answer 
 the purpose of bread, together with a small strip 
 of dried venison. When the poor boy put it to 
 his lips, he thought he could not swallow it, but 
 when the first mouthful was gone, he found his 
 appetite return to voraciousness, and he eagerly 
 ate all that had been given to him. After this 
 he dropped asleep, almost instantly, and doubt- 
 less continued unconscious of any thing many 
 hours, since he was lifted upon the horse, and
 
 26 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 had travelled a long way, without bemg aware 
 of his removal. 
 
 In two days afterwards, the troop arrived at 
 the banks of a considerable river, where the 
 wives and children of the party were waiting for 
 them, furnished with plenty of provisions, which 
 were now exceedingly wanted, also with canoes, 
 by which they crossed the river. 
 
 After passing this boundary, their watchful- 
 ness over their prisoners greatly relaxed, being 
 evidently unnecessary, since it was plain they 
 had no chance for returning. Every thing now 
 conspired to shew them that there was indeed a 
 great gulf placed between them and the world 
 behind them. All vestiges of civilized life had 
 been lost to them nearly ever since they were 
 carried away, and woods, almost equally imper- 
 vious with the stream, to any but Indian feet, 
 shut them out from all intercourse with their 
 countrymen. They were surrounded by a new 
 race of beings, who held them as enemies, 
 though they had never offended them, and who, 
 probably, only preserved them in order to make 
 them a future sacrifice, and to whose imperious 
 will they must in the mean time stoop, in the 
 same slavery to which, it is true, they had seen
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 27 
 
 many fellow-men (the negroes) devoted, but had 
 never till now conceived that they could bend 
 themselves. 
 
 Three days more elapsed before they reached 
 the town, or settlement, of this Indian tribe ; it 
 lay on the banks of a stream which feeds the 
 Red River (or Nachitoches), which, after pass- 
 ing through a great extent of country, scarcely 
 known (even to the enterprising inhabitants of 
 the United States), falls into the Mississipi in 
 Louisiana. Here they were met by all the in- 
 habitants, who came forth from their wigwams, 
 or huts, to congratulate them on their safe re- 
 turn, and the success of their expedition, in 
 which a valuable booty had been secured, with- 
 out the loss of a single Indian. Manuel per- 
 ceived that his master, who was called Tusta- 
 nuggi, was held in high respect ; but yet he 
 learned that he was only a kind of second chief, 
 the first being out with a troop of warriors, who 
 were engaged in warfare against the nation of 
 Alonquas. 
 
 Tustanuggi took Manuel to his hut, whilst 
 another Indian made signs to Diego to follow 
 him. This destination wrung the poor boy to 
 
 c 2
 
 28 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 the heart ; he had no comfort on the face of the 
 earth, but that of being near the faithful servant 
 whom he had known from his cradle, and whom 
 he well knew was willing to die in his behalf. 
 Rushing forward, despite of his terrors, he 
 threw himself into Diego's arms, clung round 
 him, and sobbed on his bosom, in all that agony 
 of sorrow and affection natural to his age and 
 his situation. 
 
 On seeing this, one of the old Indians drew 
 the young boys around, who were nearest the 
 age of Manuel, and pointing out to them the 
 weakness of this Christian youth, earnestly ex- 
 horted them never to give way to such weak- 
 ness, especially before their enemies. He con- 
 demned tears, as a folly which belonged ex- 
 clusively to women, and told them " the sons of 
 their father should spurn it, as the proof of 
 cowardice, and the companion of guilt." When 
 the weeping boy heard this, he tried to wipe his 
 eyes and look manful ; but the grief of his heart 
 was so great, it admitted not of control ; he felt 
 that he was torn from his last friend, for Diego 
 was mother, sister, father, and friend, to him 
 who was henceforward to be utterly desolate. 
 His bitter sobs would have awakened compas-
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 29 
 
 sion ill the heart of any human being, save an 
 Indian ; but they are taught from infancy to 
 quell all the natural feelings of the heart, and 
 to despise that in which they disdain to sympa- 
 thize. 
 
 Manuel was at length torn from Diego's bo* 
 som, but not before he had whispered to him 
 an assurance of his love and watchfulness, and 
 an exhortation " to attend to the words of all 
 the Indians whom he should hear speaking of 
 them." 
 
 Exhausted by the passion of sorrow he had 
 undergone, Manuel now entered the wigwam of 
 his enslaver, and after a short time, cast round 
 his eyes to recognise his future situation. The 
 wife of Tustanuggi was a woman apparently 
 turned of thirty, and might be called a good- 
 looking squaw ; she was named Moscogi. They 
 had two children, the eldest a boy about a year 
 older than Manuel, the other a female child un- 
 der two years ; all were in the hut, and ap- 
 peared anxious to pay all possible attention to 
 the master of it, who received every mark of 
 honour and affection in silence, neither en- 
 couraging their freedom, nor returning their ca- 
 resses. 
 
 c 3
 
 30 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 It is well known that the Spaniards are a 
 proud people, of stately manners, and little 
 given to that lively intercourse among strangers 
 to which the French and other countries are 
 subject. Within their own families this for- 
 mality is entirely dispensed with, and there is a 
 deep-seated affection towards those to whom 
 they are attached by domestic ties, of the warm- 
 est description, and which displays itself by a 
 thousand trifling attentions, indicative of what 
 is passing in their hearts. When, therefore, 
 Manuel perceived the coldness Tustanuggi dis- 
 played towards his own wife and children, after 
 he had been so long divided from them (for 
 Moscogi had not been one of the wives who at- 
 tended on the river to forward their views), he 
 could not help thinking, that to him he would 
 be more severe than he had apprehended, and 
 that his future life was devoted to a hard-hearted 
 master, whom no submission could move, no 
 service could soften. 
 
 This surmise did not appear to be well founded; 
 Tustanuggi demanded nothing more than it was 
 easy to perform, and when a failure took place, 
 he resorted to no mode of punishment beyond 
 quiet reproof. His wife partook his manners ;
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 31 
 
 she displayed none of that pity towards the cap- 
 tive, which his too frequent tears and evident 
 suffering might have awakened ; neither was 
 she petulant or exacting in her manners. Silent 
 and collected, with a pensive aspect, but unre- 
 pining temper, she performed her allotted task 
 in the management of her household, and seemed 
 to find her reward in the smiles and caresses of 
 her little girl ; for the boy, although he obeyed 
 her commands, appeared to have little affection 
 for her person. 
 
 Often did Manuel look towards this boy, as 
 if he hoped to find in him a friend and play- 
 mate, for so we find, in general, all children 
 of the same age do look towards each other, 
 whatever may be the difference of their country, 
 their situation in life, or their education ; for 
 nature alike inclines them to play and to friend- 
 ship. But his efforts towards conciliating the 
 good will of this young Indian were fruitless ; 
 he felt, in the glances of his keen black eye, 
 that he was a despised creature, whom the little 
 savage would have delighted to destroy ; and he 
 learnt, by several questions put to his mother, 
 that Manuel was expected by and by to form a 
 subject of sport for the boys, who hoped they
 
 32 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 might be permitted to torture him to death. On 
 hearing this, Manuel listened, it may be sup- 
 posed, with terrible interest to every thing that 
 was said, and became anxious to the greatest 
 degree to recal every word he had obtained from 
 the Choctaws. 
 
 The second night spent in the wigwam was 
 disturbed by the loud shrieks of the infant, who 
 was seized with some internal disorder, for 
 which the mother appeared to have no remedy, 
 and which evidently awoke all her feelings as 
 such. Manuel had frequently looked at this 
 child with great interest, for he felt that she 
 could not be his enemy ; and besides, he was a 
 boy of a truly compassionate disposition towards 
 every one ; so that it was natural he should rise 
 eagerly and offer his assistance, though he knew 
 not in what way to be useful. 
 
 They had not hitherto taken his clothes from 
 him, and in taking them up in the dark, he got 
 hold the wrong way, in consequence of which, a 
 few little sugared balls, of the nature of pepper- 
 mint-drops, which had got into the crevices of 
 his pockets, rolled out on the floor. He well 
 remembered that they were given to him on his 
 birthdav, but he did not know that there were
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 33 
 
 any left, and he gathered them up very eagerly, 
 thinking that their sweetness would render them 
 pleasant to the child, to whom he carried them 
 immediately, using the most affectionate ges- 
 tures he could, to induce her to take them. 
 The father had by this time struck a light, and 
 with much less apathy than usual, gazed upon 
 his child, and suggested means for its relief, 
 which, however, did not appear in the least avail- 
 ing. Very soon, however, after the little suf- 
 ferer had swallowed the comfits given her by 
 Manuel, a great change took place, for the dis- 
 order probably proceeding from flatulence, the 
 peppermint was extremely good for it, by ex- 
 pelling the wind. In a short time those alarm- 
 ing shrieks (so rarely heard in an Indian cot- 
 tage) had ceased, her eyes again shone brightly, 
 her labouring chest ceased to heave, and, as if 
 sensible to whom, she owed her restoration, she 
 held out her arms to Manuel, who, taking her 
 fondly to his bosom, lay down with her, and 
 had soon the satisfaction of seeing her fast asleep 
 and perfectly restored. 
 
 This amendment, which appeared almost mira- 
 culous in the eyes of the squaw, as might be 
 supposed, was very valuable to Manuel, not only
 
 34 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 by disposing the hearts of the family favourably 
 to him, but by inspiring the idea that he was 
 become exceedingly attached to them. They 
 had no idea of the existence of a principle of 
 humanity like that which really affected his 
 mind, because with them no general virtue or 
 affection can be said to exist, such feelings never 
 passing the bounds of family or country. To 
 these they are firmly, inviolably attached ; what 
 they want in vividness and acuteness, they make 
 up in depth and perseverance ; but never have 
 the divine doctrines of forgiveness of enemies, 
 universal love of their fellow-creatures, or pity for 
 their misfortunes, been inculcated amongst them. 
 On the following morning, Tustanuggi con- 
 vened a meeting of the chiefs and fathers of the 
 settlement, which consisted of nearly three hun- 
 dred huts, and afforded about thirty men of im- 
 portance. To this meeting he took Manuel, 
 and having placed him before them, declared 
 " his intention of henceforth establishing him 
 in his own household," in consequence of the 
 talent which he protested he possessed of re- 
 lieving sickness, and also in the belief of his 
 management of horses, whom, in like manner, 
 he expected him lo cure.
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 35 
 
 Manuel heard this in silence, and with as 
 much composure as he could assume ; but his 
 consciousness of total ignorance on those points, 
 and his knowledge that not a single comfit re- 
 mained now in his clothing, and of course that 
 he had no power of cure in any future occur- 
 rence of the same nature as that of the preceding 
 night, rendered him very unhappy. Earnestly 
 did he desire to explain his situation, but the 
 remembrance of Diego's advice had weight with 
 him, and he studied to repress all emotion, even 
 when the most aged man in the circle thus re- 
 plied to his master — 
 
 " Son, thou hast spoken well ; the Great 
 Spirit hath doubtless sent this child amongst us, 
 to preserve our children and our horses ; see 
 thou to ^him, that he become a man amongst 
 men, and learn the usages of a true son of the 
 Cumanches. The other Spaniard whom thou 
 broughtest shall await the day when the war- 
 riors return ; then shall he be brought to the 
 feast, and the fire, and die with the enemies of 
 the nation." 
 
 Every one present applauded this sentence of 
 the aged chief, and in their self-gratulations ob- 
 served not the situation of poor Manuel, whose
 
 36 THE STOLEN BOY, 
 
 blood was frozen with horror, when he thought 
 on the fate which threatened his faithful Diego, 
 whom_, he aj^prehended, remained a prisoner in 
 the house to which he had been taken, since 
 he had never seen him since the time of their 
 arrival. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 When Tustanuggi returned home, he presented 
 Manuel to Moscogi, his wife, and Uswega, his 
 son, as one " who was henceforth to share their 
 table and their home, not as a slave, but a son," 
 information received by the squaw with evident 
 pleasure, but by the son with disappointment, 
 although, in common with all Indian sons, he 
 reverenced his father too much to express his 
 dissent, obedience being one of the chief virtues 
 of these people. 
 
 The master of the house then proceeded, with 
 an air of great solemnity, to strip off Manuel's 
 clothes entirely, and rub his body completely 
 with some kind of greasy mixture, which was in 
 the first place extremely disagreeable, but was 
 certainly necessary to guard his body from the 
 musquitos and other flies, if for the rest of his
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 37 
 
 life he was to go nearly naked, like the people 
 by whom he was surrounded. He next put 
 mocassins on his feet, a calico shirt over his 
 shoulders, and a silver fillet round his head, 
 and completed his dress by bracelets and arm- 
 lets, having first cut his hair in the usual fashion 
 of the tribe. 
 
 When Uswega beheld him thus metamor- 
 phosed, though he had seen the process sullenly, 
 he yet condescended to shew him how to hold 
 his spear, and proposed taking him to join the 
 boys of the town, who, at his age, learnt to 
 throw the hatchet, or use the bow and arrow. 
 
 To this the father made no objection, farther 
 than to say, that on the morrow the son of the 
 pale man must begin his duties of attending the 
 horses, an employment he must share with the 
 other captive, until the return of the warriors- 
 Manuel was glad to hear he should so soon see 
 his fellow- sufferer, but yet he dreaded answer- 
 ing the questions he would naturally ask ; and 
 again he spent a sleepless, ruminating night. 
 
 To his great relief, when on the morrow he 
 met Diego, the poor man saw only, in the im- 
 proved condition of his young master, reason to 
 hope the same consideration would be extended 
 
 D
 
 38 THE STOLEN BUY. 
 
 to himself. This conclusion he had the greater 
 right to make, because he knew himself to be a 
 valuable groom, and that he had been of great 
 use to several of the horses they had stolen from 
 his master, and which, he observed, " it was 
 quite natural he should have a regard for, wher- 
 ever they might happen to be." He told Ma- 
 nuel every thing respecting the management of 
 these noble animals, likely to be of use to him 
 in his future occupation, repeatedly adding, 
 *' and it will be a strange thing indeed, if after 
 a time, you and I being well mounted, and hav- 
 ing well trained our horses, cannot make our 
 escape, either to the Red River, at the time 
 when some trading vessels are upon it, or to the 
 Christian town of Nachitoches, to which it will 
 be our guide." 
 
 Every time they met (which was now twice 
 a-day), the instructions were repeated, and the 
 hopes expressed : but though Manuel heard the 
 first with due attention, the second frequently 
 banished them from his mind, since they inevi- 
 tably led him to the dreadful recollection of that 
 fate which awaited poor Diego, and which was 
 now frequently adverted to at home by Uswega, 
 as an approaching festival. At these moments,
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 39 
 
 his eyes would fill with tears, and he would try 
 to throw himself into Diego's arms, that he 
 might hide the anguish of his heart, whilst he 
 gratified its impulse of affection ; and scarcely 
 did he know \vhether it was right to tell the 
 poor man, in order to give him the means of 
 seeking to escape or to die, or to preserve a si- 
 lence, which saved him from a contemplation of 
 the most appalling and heart-rending nature. 
 
 One day, a large party of Indians set out to 
 hunt in the woods, and having observed that 
 Diego was in every thing he did expert and 
 courageous, they took him with them, ordering 
 Uswega, Manuel, and a few other boys, to fol- 
 low, for the purpose of collecting game, these 
 children being quick of eye and swift of foot. 
 The scene was entirely new to our Spanish boy, 
 and with the hilarity natural to his age, he soon 
 forgot his sorrows, and eagerly joined in the 
 sport, feeling, for the first time, that it would 
 be possible to him to live happy in that wild 
 state, whilst actively employed, although he was 
 miserable when in a state of indolence. During 
 their excursion he saw several wild beasts, 
 which were chased and killed with an amazing 
 dexterity by the naked Indians, at the very mo- 
 
 d2
 
 40 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 ment of their becoming in the utmost danger ; 
 and he knew not how to admire sufficiently 
 their presence of mind, the management of their 
 weapons, and the acuteness of their perceptions ; 
 and he again thought they were a wonderful 
 people. He had always had a great taste for 
 natural history, as many children have, and had 
 been permitted by his father to have a little 
 aviary in the garden, in which he was making a 
 collection of birds, at the time of his misfor- 
 tune. He now saw innumerable birds, of form 
 and plumage such as he had formed no idea of, 
 and particularly the condor eagle, the vulture, 
 and the wild turkey, contrasted with innumer- 
 able small and exquisitely beautiful birds, blue, 
 green, and crimson, which darted like living 
 gems from tree to tree, their own vivid hues 
 catching the slanting beams of the sun as they 
 penetrated the forest. These objects he might 
 have noticed during his journey, but his mind 
 was then sunk in all the stupor which follows 
 a sudden and terrible misfortune ; he was now 
 to a certain degree recovered, and being at that 
 happy season of life " when the tear is forgot 
 as soon as shed," he became capable of receiv- 
 ing at least a transitory pleasure, from the no- 
 velty of every thing around him.
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 41 
 
 Alas ! poor Manuel's pleasure was indeed 
 transitory; whilst gazing on an immense group 
 of parroquets, who seemed to have taken pos- 
 session of a beautiful flowering plant, and looked 
 like moving foliage themselves, he was startled 
 by a loud cry of pain and terror, and the voice 
 that uttered it was doubtless Diego's. 
 
 Manuel hastened to the spot where several 
 Indians were standing, and amongst them lay 
 the unfortunate Spaniard, who had been bitten 
 in the hand by a rattlesnake, as he was search- 
 ing for a bird that had been shot by one of the 
 company. The reptile had been instantly 
 killed, but no attention whatever was paid to 
 the wounded man, which not only distressed, 
 but surprised Manuel exceedingly, as he had 
 repeatedly heard that these people possessed a 
 cure for the bite of this dreadfid animal. In 
 this distress he forgot his caution, and addressed 
 every word in his power to use (as taught him 
 by the Choctaws), first to one and then to ano- 
 ther of the Indians, imploring them to assist 
 Diego ; but they either heard him in perfect si- 
 lence, or commanded him "not to trouble them, 
 seeing his friend was dying." 
 
 Meantime, Diegn, in the agony of p. tin, car- 
 
 D 3
 
 42 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 nestly besought the boy to cease his lamenta- 
 tions, and assist him by his prayers, seeing that 
 he had not an hour to live. — " Pray for me, my 
 dear Manuel," said he, " for, alas ! I have no 
 minister of religion to comfort me at this awful 
 moment : and when I am gone, pray for your- 
 self to that gracious God who can guard you in 
 an Indian hut, as well as in your father's house. 
 Oh ! I have been much to blame, that when 
 I gave you instructions how to manage your 
 horses, I did not tell you also to hold fast your 
 religion, to pray night and morning to your 
 blessed Saviour ; promise me that you will — it 
 is the only comfort you can give me." 
 
 Poor Manuel, almost choked with grief, pro- 
 mised this, and began to repeat aloud his own 
 evening prayer ; but the increasing pangs of 
 poor Diego rendered him unable to do more than 
 cry fervently on Heaven for help, mingling with 
 petitions for his soul, prayers for the deliverance 
 of Manuel, who continued to kneel by him and 
 kiss him, till the last awful moment was passed, 
 and his bloated, disfigured corpse lay before 
 him outstretched in the silence of death. 
 
 And thus he was compelled to leave it, for he 
 had neither implements wherewith to dig a
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 43 
 
 grave, nor strength to drag it into any recess. 
 He wished he could have covered it, if only 
 with leaves, but as he was called upon by his 
 master, all he was able to do was to take off the 
 cloak of Diego, and fasten it over the face, 
 which he effected as quickly as possible. In 
 doing this he found a small book, which he took, 
 it being the only property their enslavers had 
 left in his pocket, as being to them useless. 
 
 It will be readily conceived by my dear young 
 readers, how deeply Manuel lamented the loss 
 of this his only friend. Indeed, so lively was 
 his sorrow, that, to a certain degree, his Indian 
 friends sympathized with him ; and Moscogi in 
 particular lamented his loss, and shewed him 
 considerable pity. One word, however, of her 
 hard-hearted son consoled him for his present 
 loss, much more than any circumstance beside 
 could possibly have done. The young barbarian 
 lamented " that he was lost in the woods, be- 
 cause he would not now afford them the oppor- 
 tunity of torturing him to death ;"' and as Diego 
 was a fine athletic man, the young savage ob- 
 served, "" that it would be a great chance if any 
 prisoner was brought in, capable of living so 
 long under the torments they had intended to 
 inflict upon him."
 
 44 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 When therefore Manuel next fulfilled his pro- 
 mise, by offering up his prayers, most devoutly 
 did he thank the all- wise Disposer that his 
 faithful servant had been removed, by a death, 
 which, though painful, was only so for a short 
 time, and which, in being accidental, was infi- 
 nitely preferable to that of murder and torture, 
 which was prepared for him. 
 
 In the act of lifting up his feeble voice and 
 throbbing heart to God, the poor boy found 
 present comfort ; and who shall dare to say that 
 that " still small voice " was not heard and an- 
 swered by Him " whom the heaven of heavens 
 cannot contain ?" - 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 If such were the just conclusions of Manuel, 
 whilst the day of sin and sorrow was at a dis- 
 tance, much more decidedly did they soon be- 
 come so. About a fortnight after the death of 
 Diego, the long-absent warriors returned from 
 a far-distant expedition, in which it was not 
 doubted but they had sufTered great loss, al- 
 though it was hoped, from their long-tried
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 45 
 
 valour, that eventual victory had crowned their 
 expedition. The conjectures proved just — it 
 was a most striking scene, when, on their first 
 appearance, the whole population of the settle- 
 ment turned out to meet them ; wives and chil- 
 dren pressing forward to find their husbands and 
 fathers, or to ascertain the loss they trembled to 
 learn. At this awful moment, the wisdom they 
 affect, and the apathy they usually exhibit, all 
 gave way before the dictates of nature, and mo- 
 thers clamorously demanded their sons, wives 
 sought eagerly for their husbands, and men de- 
 manded their friends and brothers. 
 
 When the result of the battle was known, the 
 bowlings and lamentations that followed were 
 absolutely astonishing ; it appeared as if these 
 people, usually so firm and unmoved, had trea- 
 sured up every warmer feeling, that they might 
 give them vent at one eventful moment, or as if 
 grief had suddenly rendered them frantic. The 
 air resounded with their cries — the most dolorous 
 eloquence burst from their lips ; and although 
 the women expressed their sorrow the most ve- 
 hemently, the men joined them in the strongest 
 demonstrations of it ; and the whole settlement 
 seemed moved as by one heart, and afflicted as
 
 46 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 by one sorrow. Manuel stood amongst them as 
 the only stranger, but such was his compassion- 
 ate nature, that he could not behold their afflic- 
 tion without in a degree sharing it ; and often 
 did he recollect, that he too had lost not only a 
 friend, but parents, country, and home. 
 
 In the course of less than two hours, the prin- 
 cipal warrior proclaimed his success, and ex- 
 hibited eleven prisoners, who were the trophies 
 of his victory : on this being known, the whole 
 settlement passed in a moment from this expres- 
 sion of uncontrollable grief to the wildest signs 
 of joy. They shouted in exultation, pressed 
 round the prisoners, and demanded that they 
 should be given to them, and hastily began to 
 arrange the means of making a feast, and of tor- 
 turing the prisoners — two circumstances which 
 always accompanied each other. 
 
 Before this important affair was settled, seven 
 of the women, whose husbands had been killed 
 during the late affray, stepped forward, and 
 claimed the right of choosing each a partner 
 from the prisoners, that he might hunt for her 
 and her children. This right was acknowledged 
 by the aged men who presided over the assem- 
 bly ; and accordingly seven of the unhappy m.en
 
 THE STOLEN BOY, 47 
 
 condemned, though innocent, to suffer the most 
 dreadful death, were led by the squaws to their 
 own wigwams, and four only were left to glut 
 the cruelty of the savages. The moment poor 
 Manuel saw these victims led towards stakes, 
 which some of the party were placing in the 
 ground, h.4 fled towards the place where the 
 horses were sheltered, and mounting one of 
 those committed to his care, rode out, as was 
 his usual custom, towards the watering-place. 
 By doing this, as if it were a duty he ought not 
 to omit, he escaped the derision of Uswega, as 
 well as the sight of barbarities it froze his blood 
 to think upon : and when he returned, finding 
 no one in the hut but the young child, he re- 
 mained to take care of it, and in doing so, gained 
 the praises of the mother. 
 
 Manuel thought himself happy in thus es- 
 caping the horrible scene ; but, alas ! he could 
 not escape the recital with which his young 
 companion thought proper to oblige him ; and 
 such was its effect upon his spirits, that all the 
 grief which he had lately appeared to have con- 
 quered, returned upon him ; his tippetite forsook 
 him; his sleep was disturbed by terrible dreams, 
 in which he beheld Diego under -hose sufferings
 
 48 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 which had been intended for him. Sometimes 
 he would cry out—" Oh, do not tear out his 
 tongue! — let him speak to me once! — do not 
 mangle him with those hot pincers !" and so 
 much was his mind impressed by the horrible 
 accounts he had received, that all the family 
 were convinced he had witnessed them, and 
 gave strict orders that he should never go nigh 
 any prisoners again— an order which he had re- 
 peatedly reason to rejoice in having received. 
 
 Most of the Indian tribes live by hunting, and 
 this settlement of the Cumanches cultivated only 
 a small portion of maize, which was managed 
 by the women entirely, who although great 
 slaves to their husbands, were not so ingenious 
 or industrious as many of the women are in less 
 ferocious tribes. Moscogi was, perhaps, the 
 cleverest woman in the settlement, and under 
 her teaching, Manuel soon became expert in 
 forming straw mats, and weaving baskets, at 
 such times as he was not employed with the 
 horses ; but as his care of them (young as he 
 was) had hitherto given great satisfaction to 
 Tustanuggi, he had not much time for in-door 
 employments. Happy was he to get a single 
 half-hour to himself, in which to read the little
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 49 
 
 book he had found in Diego's pocket, and which 
 was entitled *' The History of Saint Theresa." 
 Perhaps had Manuel been at home, he would 
 never have looked at it, as being too serious for 
 his age, but now, as the only book he had, it 
 was inestimable in his eyes ; and he read it over 
 and over again with avidity, often thinking that 
 the good woman whose life was recorded, was 
 more happy in her state of suffering than if she 
 had fallen into the hands of the Indians ; for he 
 would say — " She suffered for her religion, and 
 set a glorious example to all the world ; but 
 here people are tormented for no fault, and die 
 to no end — they are lost in the wilderness, and 
 no one knows what is become of them. — Yes," 
 he would add, " thou. Almighty Father, seest 
 them, and either in this world or another, thou 
 wilt assuredly relieve them : I will never cease 
 to pray to thee, and hope in thee ; and though 
 I am but a poor, lost child, perhaps thou wilt 
 have mercy on me, and release me." 
 
 With such pious aspirations as these, the poor 
 boy frequently comforted himself, and by de- 
 grees he became so habituated to his mode of 
 life, that he appeared to those around him well 
 satisfied with it, especially as he grew fast, and
 
 50 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 looked remarkably well. The maize, prepared 
 by long boiling into a species of food called 
 hominy, agreed well with him ; and when to 
 this was added a portion of venison, he con- 
 sidered himself well fed, and forgot the dainties 
 of his father's table, though he never forgot for 
 an hour the dear parents who provided them. 
 The first winter he lived with the Cumanches, 
 inured him to that evil which they think (and 
 justly perhaps) their greatest misfortune, viz. 
 the want of sufficient nourishment ; and after 
 experiencing that for several weeks together, it 
 was no wonder that he afterwards ate mode- 
 rately, and with high relish, whatever was given 
 to him. 
 
 It is only justice to Tustanuggi to say, that in 
 the time of scarcity, Manuel shared the scanty 
 fare of the family as a son, and that his own 
 temperance offered an excellent example to those 
 around him. Manuel had at this period gained 
 a complete knowledge of the language, and as 
 he attended many meetings of the warriors and 
 elders, he was frequently struck with the wis- 
 dom of their remarks on the common duties of 
 life, and the peculiar virtues called for in emer- 
 gencies of this nature. Child as he was, he
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 51 
 
 could yet see the folly of their conduct, in per- 
 sisting so pertinaciously in the way of their an- 
 cestors, by never cultivating land, that they 
 subjected themselves to starve in the midst of 
 plenty, and in the possession of an immense ex- 
 panse of fruitful country, remained liable to the 
 most positive want. 
 
 So soon as there was a prospect of success, 
 the men set out on various hunting expeditions, 
 alike for the purpose of procuring food for them- 
 selves, and the means of barter, for clothes and 
 blankets; this tribe greatly preferring the calico 
 shirts and the blankets, which they procured by 
 that medium, to the skins made up by them- 
 selves. Tustanuggi and his two boys were gene- 
 rally very fortunate, and procured many valuable 
 skins, which the former intended to dispose of, 
 together with a portion of his mules and horses, 
 to the traders who annually came up the Red 
 River for that purpose. To these visitants Ma- 
 nuel could alone look as the future means of his 
 liberation, and therefore he carefully listened to 
 every word which could throw any light on the 
 subject of their arrival, the time they remained, 
 the distance of the settlement from the Red 
 River, the direction in which it flowed, and the 
 
 E 2
 
 52 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 probability that he should be concerned with any 
 negociation. He even learned as much of their 
 language as he could obtain at second-hand, as 
 he found many of the Indians spoke a little, and 
 he thought that a few words would suffice to tell 
 them who he was, and to move their compassion ; 
 and many a sleepless hour did he pass, in con- 
 triving the means of escape to their vessel, and 
 arranging the words with which he would address 
 the commander. 
 
 Poor Manuel, when the time came, had the 
 mortification to find that all his ingenuity and 
 his hopes had been excited in vain. Tustanuggi 
 not only set out without him, but by his manner, 
 indicated suspicion of that which was really 
 passing in his mind, as he gave him to under- 
 stand, " that any effort to escape would be se- 
 verely punished," and recommended him to use 
 double diligence towards the horses. This dis- 
 appointment he felt severely; but he had the 
 good sense to subdue his emotion, and by that 
 means he eluded the vigilance of Moscogi, and 
 at least obtained the mournful privilege of weep- 
 ing in secret over his misfortunes.
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 53 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TusTANUGGi returned in good humour, for he 
 had sold his horses to advantage, and bought 
 blankets, which he greatly needed, and rum, 
 which he liked much too well ; and for some 
 days a scene of drunkenness ensued, very incon- 
 sistent with the boasted wisdom and gravity of 
 the Indians. Uswega, who had accompanied 
 his father to the Red River for the first time, 
 was exalted exceedingly by the honour conferred 
 on him, and treated Manuel with the utmost 
 contempt, forbidding him " to consider himself 
 a Cumanche, or to associate with the boys of 
 the settlement as he was wont to do ;" and as 
 his father appeared to warrant this insolence, 
 since he did not reprove it, the stranger was, of 
 course, compelled to submit. Formerly, when 
 the youth of the town went in the cool of the 
 evening to throw the hatchet, or the spear, and 
 to shoot with their arrows, or pitch their darts, 
 Manuel constantly made one of the party ; and 
 as he was singularly expert for his age, and the 
 time he had practised, many of them were de- 
 lighted to sec him cnmc amongst them ; but 
 
 E 3
 
 54 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 now, all held themselves at a distance, and took 
 care often to remind him, " that he had no red 
 man's blood in his veins — he was a stranger, 
 the son of the pale man, with whom they held 
 no affinity." 
 
 It is very probable that, cautious as poor 
 Manuel had been in guarding his words at the 
 time when he sought to escape, that he had be- 
 trayed himself in his sleep, in consequence of 
 which, confidence was withdrawn from him by 
 the father ; and the son (who had been always 
 inclined to treat him ill) thus gained a power of 
 effecting his wishes. The mother and the child, 
 however, remained attached to him, and' the 
 caresses of the latter, in a great degree, consoled 
 him for her brother's ill treatment. He now 
 abstained from seeking any play, and applied 
 himself to making baskets with double dili- 
 gence ; and forbore to reply when he was twit- 
 ted by the boys with being "fit only for a wo- 
 man," though, like all his sex, he felt it as a 
 terrible insult. From being a lively, gay, and 
 most amusing child, he sank into a deeply think- 
 ing little man, obtaining a kind of premature 
 wisdom, far from being desirable at his early 
 age. Living iji the midst of people who, though
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 55 
 
 ignorant, were cunning, treacherous, and impla- 
 cable, he found all the sweetest affections of 
 the heart, the bland ingenuousness of youth, 
 blighted, as it were, in their bud ; and he was 
 constrained, from the principle of self-preserva- 
 tion, to weigh even the most insignificant words 
 before he uttered them — to repress a sigh for 
 the home he had lost, or a smile to the compa- 
 nion with whom he played, lest they should 
 subject him to anger, which might be deadly, 
 or imprisonment, which might be final. 
 
 One day, when poor Manuel had a little more 
 time than usual, from Tustanuggi having taken 
 out the horses himself, he ventured to a little 
 thicket near the town, where the boys were 
 wont to assemble. As soon as he was seen, 
 the young fry set up a shout, but it was one 
 of joy rather than welcome, for in a minute 
 they all assembled round him, and instantly 
 began to bind him, under the direction of Us- 
 wega; and he was given to understand that 
 they were going to fix him in the opposite tree, 
 in order to furnish them a mark at which to 
 throw their hatchets or tomahawks. One of 
 the boys told him good naturedly, that their 
 object was to throw as near as possible to his
 
 56 THK STOLEN BOY. 
 
 bociy, but to avoid injuring him ; but though 
 this was better than his first expectation, he 
 could not flatter himself that such young and 
 unskilful hands could effect their purpose ; and 
 in a silent prayer he recommended his soul to 
 God, and also begged a blessing on his far- 
 distant parents. 
 
 At this time he was placed with his back to 
 the tree, to which he was firmly bound. Know- 
 ing that no entreaties would alter the inten- 
 tions of the Indian boys, and that all complaint 
 would but subject him to their ridicule, he de- 
 termined to endure his fate with firmness ; and 
 although he could not forbear shutting his eyes 
 when the first of these tremendous weapons 
 came whizzing close to his ears, not a single 
 word escaped his lips, and many of the boys 
 praised his unshrinking firmness. He learnt 
 from their conversation, that the boy who should 
 touch him would forfeit his weapon ; it was 
 therefore probable, that each would try to avoid 
 to his utmost ; but he found also that not one of 
 the young urchins attached the slightest idea of 
 harm to killing him, or even supposed they 
 would be blamed for mangling him in the most 
 terrible manner.
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 57 
 
 One after another did the hatchets approach 
 the shuddering victim ; yet such was the prac- 
 tice and abilities of the boys, that no wound was 
 given, until the eleventh struck into the calf of 
 his leg, from which the blood gushed in a tor- 
 rent. 
 
 On seeing the sanguine stream flow from 
 their innocent and uncomplaining victim, a loud 
 shout of derision was uttered against him who 
 had thrown the last tomahawk ; but no pity 
 was evinced for Manuel, who would probably 
 have received the next weapon in a more vital 
 part, if a dispute had not arisen as to whose 
 property the forfeited one had become. Hap- 
 pily for him, Tustanuggi had heard the shout, 
 and turned his horse towards the place from 
 whence it proceeded. The animal he rode was 
 one of those originally stolen from Don Manuel, 
 the only one remaining unsold ; and having 
 been lately very ill, had been attended to by 
 the poor boy, who was the companion of his 
 theft, with unusual care, according to the well- 
 remembered directions of Diego — a circum- 
 stance which had given Tustanuggi a much 
 kinder sensation towards our young friend than 
 he had evinced for a considerable time. Under
 
 58 THE STOLEN BOY, 
 
 the influence of this sentiment, on seeing his 
 present situation, he galloped hastily to his res- 
 cue, and loudly reproved the troop around him, 
 particularly blaming his own son for suffering 
 them to injure the boy, who was his father's 
 property. He then applied a ligature to Ma- 
 nuel's leg, assisted him to mount his horse, and 
 conveyed him speedily home, where his wound 
 was dressed by Moscogi with great care, as she 
 applied to it a poultice of cooling herbs, and 
 bandaged it with a skill which would not have 
 disgraced an accomplished surgeon. 
 
 Whilst this was doing, the poor boy (whose 
 generous heart was easily touched by kindness) 
 felt, towards both his master and mistress, a 
 sense of gratitude which almost amounted to 
 affection, and enabled him not only to forgive 
 the cruel treatment of their son, but to conceal 
 all the share he had taken in the late affair. 
 Uswega was sensible of this, since he heard the 
 questions of Tustanuggi, and from this time his 
 dark looks ceased to threaten him ; but yet it 
 was evident that he despised him for the very 
 conduct by which he profited ; for as revenge 
 is a principle implanted in the Indian from his
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 59 
 
 very birth, he considers it an act of weakness to 
 lose any opportunity of taking vengeance. 
 
 Here let my young reader pause, and whilst 
 reflecting on the vices of this misguided boy, 
 let him devoutly and humbly thank his Almighty 
 Father that he was born of Christian parents, 
 in a Christian land; let him rejoice in that his 
 heart is tender, that he can love, and pity, and 
 relieve, every human being, knowing that he is 
 commanded so to do, by that blessed Redeemer 
 who laid down liis life on the cross for sin- 
 ners ; and let him anxiously nourish these feel- 
 ings, lest he should in any degree become hard- 
 hearted, cruel, and revengeful, like the Indian 
 of whom we speak : he must remember that he 
 has not, like Uswega, ignorance to plead in ex- 
 cuse of such sin and folly.
 
 60 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Manukl now lay for several weeks on the mat 
 in the tent, unable to move, suffering severe 
 pain, and that sickness and weariness which is 
 the consequence of confinement. During this 
 period, a messenger arrived from a distant set- 
 tlement of the Cumanche nation, calling upon 
 them to go to war with the Choctaws, who 
 were said to have made an irruption on their 
 towm. 
 
 The summons was met on the part of the Cu- 
 manches with great spirit, for an Indian in ge- 
 neral thinks that fighting is the great business 
 of life ; and so subject are the various nations 
 of Indians to warfare, that they have always 
 remained few in number ; and with a beautiful 
 and fruitful country, rich in all the means of 
 life, and capable of giving abundance to myriads, 
 have continued to be mere patches of popula- 
 tion, scattered over a continent that may give 
 birth to empires. Had they been united in 
 mind, flourishing in numbers, and improving in 
 the arts of life, no stranger could have entered
 
 TIIK STOLEN BOY. 61 
 
 their country and taken possession of their 
 birthright : they could not have been so situ- 
 ated that otlier nations might say (as they have 
 said, in fact, and miglit do it with truth) — 
 "Give place to mc, for I am worthier than 
 thou." In their history, every member of a 
 family may see the value of union among them- 
 selves. 
 
 Manuel was surprised to sec the numerous 
 preparations now made by Tustanuggi for en- 
 tering on the ensuing campaign. He had seen 
 many instances of extraordinary personal vanity 
 among the Cumanches, and found that the beaux 
 of Spain were not more particular in their love of 
 ornament than the barbarian beaux of an Indian 
 settlement ; but it is certain he did not suspect 
 that a man of his master's age and gravity could 
 be guilty of such weakness, till he beheld his 
 ])rescnt anxiety on the subject. It appeared to 
 be an object of the last im})ortance, in the pre- 
 sent case, that his personal appearance should 
 be .imposing; and for this purpose, himself, his 
 wife, and his son, were fully em])loyed. 
 
 In the first place, his head was carefully 
 sliaved, on either side of the head, leaving a 
 ridge of hair standing up in tl e middle, like a 
 
 A'
 
 62 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 cock's comb ; and in this state it was first rub- 
 bed with bear's grease, and then well powdered 
 with swan's-down. The sides of his head were 
 then painted with vermilion ; and his ears, 
 which had already been slit, were so loaded 
 with ornaments, that they hung low down on 
 his neck, and were made nearly to meet behind. 
 Long black streaks were carried round his eyes, 
 and spots of the same hue on his cheeks, so as 
 to render his countenance terrific ; but in his 
 own opinion, and that of his wife, it was the 
 perfection of beauty, not less than terror. It 
 was certain, that when fully equipped, his ap- 
 pearance was grand and martial. He had a 
 hunting shirt made of a beautiful deer-skin, 
 which descended nearly to his knees ; a belt, 
 richly worked with beads of a scarlet colour, in 
 which was slung his tomahawk ; and he held 
 gracefully in his hand a spear, of large dimen- 
 sions. Thus equipped, he placed himself at the 
 head of a small body, similarly ornamented and 
 accoutred, forming one of three bodies, who were 
 led by an experienced warrior as the general. 
 
 Moscogi evidently felt much anxiety on the 
 subject of her husband's return ; for little as 
 the feelings of affection may be exercised, the
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 63 
 
 wants of nature create a bond in the domestic 
 life of a savage. — " Who will get us venison, 
 if thy father falls ?" were words frequently ad- 
 dressed to the little girl ; for Uswega was sel- 
 dom in the hut ; and often did the heart of 
 Manuel answer — " I will hunt for you — Avork 
 for you ;" for he was grateful for the kindness 
 she had lately shown him ; and he thought it 
 very wrong in her son to stay at home so little, 
 at a time when his mother required comfort. 
 He found, however, that in general the sons of 
 other women were attentive to their wants ; and 
 that on the death of a warrior, if their sons had 
 attained manhood, they cheerfully undertook to 
 provide for their widowed parent. 
 
 When Manuel was able once more to take 
 exercise on horseback, his strength returned 
 quickly, and as provisions were now very plen- 
 tiful, he was well fed, and soon recovered his 
 good looks. It was observed, " that he had 
 grown much during his confinement," so that 
 he was now very tall of his age ; and it is pro- 
 bable that when Moscogi looked at him, she 
 thought he might hereafter be as a son to her, 
 seeing his obedience to her wishes, and his 
 efforts to give her pleasure, far exceeded those 
 
 r2
 
 64 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 of Uswega ; and to him the child looked for 
 all the pleasure her monotonous existence per- 
 mitted. 
 
 Before the return of the warriors took place, 
 the town was enlivened by the arrival of a party 
 who had made a successful sally in pursuit of 
 booty, to some town or village on the frontier, 
 and brought back several horses, two of which 
 were particularly valuable. Often did poor 
 Manuel look wistfully at these animals, and 
 wonder whether they also had been stolen from 
 his father ; and the sight of them brought forci- 
 bly to his mind those images which had natu- 
 rally faded in the memory of one so young, and 
 so continually called upon to attend to his per- 
 sonal duties and precarious safety. From what 
 he could gather, through Uswega, who was now 
 more conversant with him than formerly, they 
 had been brought from a still greater distance 
 than San Antonio, and were thought to be in- 
 jured from the length of the journey. In con- 
 sequence of this surmise, notwithstanding the 
 absence of his master, they were given, in a 
 great measure, into Manuel's care, on account of 
 the lightness of his weight, the gentleness of his 
 treatment, and the skill he had already evinced
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 65 
 
 in discerning the diseases of horses, and pre- 
 scribing for them properly. 
 
 Despite of all his care, one of these valuable 
 creatures soon sunk under its complaint, and 
 the other remained too unwell to be taken to 
 the Red River, when the season arrived for the 
 annual visit of the traders ; so that poor Ma- 
 nuel's chance for seeing them, and regaining 
 his liberty, again went past unimproved ; but 
 it did not by any means affect him in the same 
 way it had done before. He comforted himself 
 with inwardly observing that he had excited no 
 suspicion, that he was on good terms with all 
 around him, and that if he continued to grow 
 up strong and hearty, the time would come 
 when his master would need his services, and 
 perhaps grant him freedom, as a reward for 
 them, which would be safer and better than 
 seeking it by a medium which would expose 
 him to lingering destruction. 
 
 At length the warriors returned, and again 
 the whole population rushed out to receive them, 
 and repeat the tragic mourning, and the barba- 
 rous rejoicing. To the great relief of Manuel, 
 Moscogi was not among the widows, for Tus- 
 tanuggi returned to his family; but by no means 
 
 p3
 
 66 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 in the health in which he had departed, for he 
 had lost much blood by the wounds he had re- 
 ceived, and was evidently weak and dispirited. 
 He saw with surprise the improvement which 
 had taken place in Manuel, whom he had left 
 on the bed of pain, pale and languid ; and it 
 was evident that he believed, as before, that the 
 poor boy possessed some extraordinary know- 
 ledge of the art of healing, which he desired to 
 benefit by — a conception that of course was very 
 distressing to one who knew himself ignorant 
 of the way to help him. 
 
 Happily the prisoners were few in number; 
 and after the usual allotment had been made, 
 two only remained for slaughter, and these were 
 reserved until the night of the full moon, for 
 some reason connected with the superstitions 
 which indicate the only sense of religion they 
 display ; although it is certain that their orators 
 frequently refer to a future state of existence, 
 and speak of the Great Spirit as the re warder of 
 good and evil. Truly happy was Manuel to 
 hear of this respite, for he flattered himself that 
 some other person might be found to claim them, 
 not yet sensible of their own wants ; nor could 
 he forbear to busy himself with plans for their
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 67 
 
 liberation, especially after Uswega had informed 
 him that one or both would be roasted at a slow 
 fire, and pointed out the wood intended for the 
 occasion. So far, however, was he from being 
 able to assist them to escape, that he never 
 could learn in whose wigwam they were con- 
 fined ; and indeed there was every reason to 
 believe they would not themselves have con- 
 sented to fly, for the courage of endurance is so 
 great in them, that they have a pride in suffer- 
 ing, which enables them to sustain unheard-of 
 tortures, and to challenge the inflictors to invent 
 still greater. 
 
 Tustanuggi, under the care of his wife and 
 Manuel, and principally in consequence of the 
 repose he enjoyed, soon regained his usual 
 health ; and as he imputed this, in a great mea- 
 sure, to the charm which he imagined to be 
 connected with the Spanish boy, of course he 
 became more a favourite with him than before ; 
 so that at length Manuel thought he might ven- 
 ture to speak a word in favour of the prisoners, 
 whose death had already been delayed till the 
 following new moon. Such was his influence 
 at this time with his master, and so great had 
 become that master's importance from his cou-
 
 68 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 rage and conduct, that a consultation was ac- 
 tually held on the subject, which was certainly 
 a most extraordinary compliment to the young 
 pleader, and probably without a precedent in 
 the annals of the nation, and by no means likely 
 to ensure the favour of the public for the ori- 
 ginal mover. 
 
 When Tustanuggi made this proposal to the 
 assembled warriors, he gave, as a reason, the 
 welfare of the community, who might, in his 
 opinion, be more benefitted by retaining the pri- 
 soners as slaves, than sacrificing them for a 
 temporary gratification. 
 
 In reply to this, an aged man observed — 
 " That although the health of Tustanuggi (who 
 was dear to them all as a son and a chieftain) 
 had been indeed restored by the Spanish boy, 
 who also had been useful to the horses, and 
 was undoubtedly a prize of great value to the 
 Cumanches, such arguments did not apply to 
 the prisoners, who were Indians like them- 
 selves, gifted with no power over diseases, but 
 able and willing to die the death of the brave, 
 and that it would be alike an injury to their 
 friends and enemies, to alter the customs of 
 their fathers on the present occasion.'"
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 69 
 
 This advice'being received with due applause 
 by all the assembly, Tustanuggi departed in 
 silence, and this he preserved after his return 
 to the tent ; so that Manuel knew not the con- 
 sequences of his mediation, though he too truly 
 guessed that it was not successful. He was, 
 however, by this time, so well aware of the 
 habits of the Indians, that he abstained from 
 asking any questions ; and aware that he had 
 risked his own safety, he appeared to forget the 
 subject, and redoubled his attention both to his 
 master and the ailing horse already mentioned. 
 
 A short hunting excursion, in which Manuel 
 was included (and in which he was very useful, 
 and therefore distinguished), relieved his mind 
 from the anxiety he had lately felt, when the 
 moon arrived at that period fixed on for sacri- 
 fice. The unusual bustle in the town, and the 
 pleasure manifested by Uswega, told him what 
 was going forward, for Tustanuggi abstained, 
 with much delicacy to his feelings, or with some 
 mysterious reference to his own amendment, 
 from speaking on the subject. 
 
 Gathering his materials together, Manuel sat 
 down on the ground, to make himself a bundle 
 of arrows, not sorry to find himself alone, for
 
 70 THE 8TOLKN BOY. 
 
 even the child would have been a trouble to him 
 at this moment, when his heart was heavy, and 
 his spirit restless. 
 
 Seeing he could do no po-^sible good in the 
 case, and that he had already risked his own 
 welfare, perhaps even his life, in the service of 
 these unknown savages, who were most proba- 
 bly not less vindictive and cruel than their per- 
 secutors, he thought the best thing he could now 
 do, was, if possible, to banish them from his 
 mind altogether, by bustling about, and going 
 from one employment to another. This, how- 
 ever, he could only accomplish within the hut, 
 for he would not go out, lest the fires or the 
 victim should come before his sight, as it hap- 
 pened to be within a little distance, and almost 
 in a direct line from the place of execution 
 pointed out by Uswega. 
 
 But it was in vain Manuel tried to polish an 
 arrow, weave a mat, or sift the maize for boil- 
 ing ; he could not read in his book, wdiich was 
 generally the best expedient he found for restor- 
 ing his mind to tranquillity ; nor even frame one 
 sentence of prayer to that God whom yet his 
 heart looked towards as its only source of con- 
 solation. The circumstance of the prisoners
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 71 
 
 being Choctaws, not only gave them a peculiar 
 interest in his mind, but recalled more vividly 
 than he had lately felt it, attachment to his 
 family and his country. Every little circum- 
 stance connected with his first view of the 
 Indians, and his communication with them after- 
 wards, rose to his mind ; and with these remem- 
 brances came a bitter sense of his own banish- 
 ment. His own dress and imitations of the 
 Choctaws — the innocent delight of his little 
 sister — the fond smiie and kiss of his tender 
 mother — and the observations of his beloved 
 father, rose to his mind ; and though the tears 
 slowly rolled down his cheek, he yet felt that it 
 was sweet to recal the dear images to his mind, 
 and dwell in idea on those features he would 
 never more behold. 
 
 By a natural movement he placed his hands 
 over his eyes, to exclude sight of the objects 
 around him, in order that he might with better 
 effect concentrate his thoughts, and feed his 
 imagination with recollections of each of those 
 relations. Father, mother, sister, and baby- 
 brother, each rose successively before him, en- 
 dued with every beauty that could give grace to 
 their forms, and every quality that could endear
 
 72 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 them to the heart, in his partial view ; and he 
 wondered how it could happen that he could 
 forget any one of them for a single hour. — " Not 
 even you, little Juan," said he, as, in idea, he 
 gazed on the fair child in its mother's lap. 
 
 Just at this moment he was startled from his 
 sweetly-sorrowful mverie, by the entrance of 
 some person into the hut. He took his hands 
 from his eyes slowly, for he feared that the 
 traces of tears might be displeasing to his master. 
 But no master did he behold — a terrific spectre, 
 such as his imagination, in its most vivid mo- 
 ments, c^mld never have conceived, alone stood 
 before him for a moment, and then staggered 
 forward and fell, muttering, in an almost suffo- 
 cated voice, a desire for water. 
 
 This was one of the victims, then in the course 
 of torture ; and with an agony to which no 
 words can do justice, Manuel perceived also that 
 he was the very Choctaw to whom, in days past, 
 he had attached himself. Though his newly- 
 scalped head was all one bloody wound, and 
 one eye was torn from its socket, there was still 
 some likeness left in his mangled form, which 
 he recognised at the instant, and which served 
 to increase the horror, pity, rage, and conster-
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 73 
 
 nation, which agitated his heart, and rendered 
 him for a short time utterly incapable of fulfil- 
 ling the wretched creature's request. He was 
 absolutely sick with the revolting spectacle, even 
 whilst he would have given worlds to have re- 
 lieved its misery : his knees smote each other ; 
 his teeth chattered ; his hands refused their 
 office ; he believed himself to be actually ex- 
 piring. 
 
 Again the poor wretch begged for water ; and 
 as he had thrown himself on the ground, his 
 mutilated body was less exposed ; and Manuel, 
 rousing all the man within him, tried to fulfil 
 his wishes. He brought him pure water, in a 
 small vessel, which he held to his mouth (alas ! 
 he had no longer lips), and had soon the satis- 
 faction to perceive that he swallowed it with 
 avidity and thankfulness. 
 
 Having given him all that he would take, he 
 went out himself for air, and rushing as fast as 
 his trembling limbs permitted towards the open 
 country, he soon placed himself beyond the view 
 of the fire and the crowd, when he threw him- 
 self on the ground, and a flood of tears in some 
 measure dispersed that swelling of the breast.
 
 74 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 which was so great as to threaten his instant 
 destruction. 
 
 It is well-known, that the wretched victims of 
 Indian ferocity are frequently permitted to rest 
 during the time when they are undergoing tor- 
 ture, and that they will even sleep some hours 
 in that deplorable situation. On this detestable 
 subject we are unable to dilate ; the heart 
 sickens — the blood curdles as we approach it ; 
 nor will we aiflict our young readers, or our own 
 feelings, with one word on so revolting a theme, 
 beyond what is necessary for the development 
 of poor Manuel's feelings, and the progress of 
 his story. 
 
 For nearly two hours the unhappy boy sat on 
 the ground, almost stupified with contending 
 emotions ; sometimes he was overwhelmed with 
 pity ; at others with anger ; and several times 
 he started on his feet, determined to run into 
 the midst of the crowd, and protest against 
 their proceedings, even at the risk of sharing 
 the horrible sufferings he had witnessed. There 
 can be little doubt, that such would have been 
 his conduct, had this circumstance happened 
 soon after his arrival, for he was by nature high- 
 souled and courageous (as he had proved to be,
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 75 
 
 in the affair of the tomahawks) ; but as he had 
 now been nearly two years among these people, 
 their habits of caution and deep rumination 
 were grafted on his own quick passions. In 
 consequence, he forbore all present action ; and 
 recollecting the hour for attending the horses 
 was near, he withdrew for the purpose of water- 
 ing them ; and found the exercise salutary, in 
 somewhat dissipating the terrible oppression of 
 his spirits. 
 
 Whilst still employed in this duty, he was 
 joined by Tustanuggi, who informed him, " that 
 the feast was over, it being concluded sooner 
 than was expected, in consequence of the elder 
 prisoner having died in his wigwam, long before 
 that event was expected." 
 
 The heart of Manuel at this moment felt a 
 throb of joy, for he believed that the long 
 draughts of water which he had administered 
 had accelerated his death, and rendered it easy. 
 This relief to his mind enabled him to imitate 
 the Indian caution, and without replying to that 
 part of his master's information, he made some 
 observation on the state of the horse he was 
 riding, and on the complaints which had been 
 fatal to that which died during Tustanuggi's 
 
 G 2
 
 76. THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 absence. In doing this, he removed all suspicion 
 of his having seen the Indian ; for his master, 
 concluding the subject was hateful to him, said 
 no more upon it ; and desired Uswega also to 
 be silent. 
 
 But although silent, the heart of Manuel was 
 from this eventful day so deeply moved against 
 the Indians, that every hour of his life he was 
 brooding in his mind schemes for escape. All 
 his prayers were now directed to this purpose — 
 all his thoughts were given up to contrivances, 
 and the cares which he gave to his personal 
 comfort and improvement were directed to this 
 end. Such was the loathing of stomach which 
 he experienced, whenever the thoughts of the 
 mangled prisoner crossed his mind, that it is 
 probable he would have become seriously ill, 
 from the loss of appetite at this time, if he had 
 not continually sought to counteract it, by de- 
 termining to eat, in order that he might become 
 strong ; and for the same reason he used fre- 
 quently to bathe, and to run, and spend every 
 spare moment in athletic exercises. 
 
 For this conduct Tustanuggi praised him 
 highly, and spoke of him as one who would 
 become a true son of the Cumanches : he took
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 77 
 
 him out in every hunting-party, by which 
 means he learnt the art of living in the woods ; 
 and as at this time they mixed more familiarly 
 with their neighbours than usual, circumstances 
 of great moment to Manuel arose, such as con- 
 versations on the subject of the traders, the 
 course of the Red River, the distance and situa- 
 tion of Nachitoches, and other towns from 
 whence adventurers might arrive. 
 
 From all these conversations, Manuel drew 
 information which led him to infer, that although 
 he was actually at a greater distance from Na- 
 chitoches than from San Antonio, and that the 
 two places were at an immense distance from 
 each other, yet that the former must be the point 
 at which he must aim, since the country was in 
 that direction less intersected by those dense 
 forests through which he had been brought, and 
 that there was no river so broad or deep as the 
 one which he had crossed. Indeed, so far as he 
 could learn, if he could reach the Red River, he 
 might course on its banks all the way to Nachi- 
 toches, without meeting any stream over which 
 a good horse could not swim, except one river, 
 which, though important, was of a short course, 
 and could be skirted without great loss of time.
 
 78 THK STOLEN BOY. 
 
 Deep in the recesses of his mind did Manuel 
 hide all the information thus gained ; always, 
 apparently, employed in watching for game, or 
 preparing his weapons, he asked no questions, 
 nor appeared to listen to any conyersation. 
 Sometimes, when the labours of the day were 
 over, and the hunting-party were assembled in 
 a pleasant glen, if they had been successful, the 
 hearts of the party would open, their usual taci- 
 turnity give way, and they would " hold a talk," 
 at which time the children stood in respectful 
 silence around them, or couched in the grass at 
 a distance. At these times Manuel always took 
 care to be near, but he affected to sleep, as if 
 ■wearied by the fatigues of the day ; and thus 
 he not only learnt many particulars of the 
 country, but also that Tustanuggi never intended 
 to take him down to the Red River. His 
 master observed, with a just judgment of human 
 nature — " That although his boy Manuel had 
 now become Indian in his habits and affections, 
 yet, if he went amongst people who looked like 
 his parents, spoke his language, or in any way 
 resembled those amongst whom he had been 
 born, probably his old feelings would return, 
 and he would endeavour to escape from him."
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 79 
 
 To the possibility of losing him he always ad- 
 verted with pain, not only because he was use- 
 ful, but because he had become " the son of his 
 love." 
 
 When Manuel heard an expression of this 
 kind from his master, his own heart never failed 
 to warm towards him personally ; but he did not 
 the less resolutely persist in his intention ; and 
 added to his other preparations for departure, 
 that faculty of abstaining from food, and sub- 
 sisting on the smallest possible portion of it, for 
 which the Indians are so remarkable. This is 
 probably the most difficult of all attainments to 
 a young boy, in habits of exercise, and in the 
 enjoyment of health ; nevertheless, Manuel vo- 
 luntarily entered upon it, and, to a great de- 
 gree, effected his purpose in conquering his 
 appetite.
 
 80 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 As Manuel, from the nature of his employment, 
 had alwaj^s the power of being well mounted, 
 and was now fully trusted, he frequently was 
 able to take a long ramble through the neigh- 
 bouring forest, when he would sometimes climb 
 high trees, in order to take a survey of the sur- 
 rounding country, and more especially to trace 
 the courses of rivers. In such a situation he 
 could, of course, do himself little good, seeing 
 that his view was continually impeded ; but the 
 experiments he made helped to keep up the 
 spirit of enterprise in his heart ; and the short 
 glimpses he obtained at times, acted as a stimu- 
 lant and refreshment to his spirits. One day, 
 when he had gone to a much greater distance 
 than he ventured on before, he reached a beau- 
 tiful glade, which spread out like a vista for a 
 considerable way, and in the extreme distance 
 he saw, or thought he saw, a man, whose ap- 
 pearance denoted that he was not an Indian. 
 The figure was stepping in a direction from 
 him, therefore Manuel lost not a moment in
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. B% 
 
 descending the tree from whence he had seen 
 him, and mounted his horse, by which means 
 he hoped soon to overtake him ; but rapid as 
 his movements were, since they were unnoticed 
 by the stranger, they failed to facilitate his 
 wishes, as the figure was soon lost in the mazes 
 of the wood. He saw enough to convince him 
 that the person (although arrayed in articles of 
 Indian apparel) was a civilized man, and, he 
 was inclined to believe, was some one sent out 
 for the purpose of reconnoitring the country 
 on his behalf. For a moment the thought 
 struck him that it might be his own father ; but 
 Don Manuel was remarkably tall, and this per- 
 son, though of a good stature, was not of a 
 description to warrant this conjecture. 
 
 For several days Manuel tried, but in vain, 
 to get back into the woods ; but the length of 
 his stay on this occasion was the means of pre- 
 venting his return ; and since he had been in 
 the very part through which he came from San 
 Antonio, he apprehended that they suspected 
 him of an intention to escape that way. 
 , It is probable that they detained him, in the 
 first instance, only as a punishment for loiter- 
 ing ; but as a hunting-party, on their return
 
 82 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 from this part of the forest, declared that they 
 had seen a man in the woods, who carried a 
 gun, and other weapons of a singular construc- 
 tion, suspicion was excited ; and Manuel was 
 ordered to air the horses in a contrary direction 
 for the future. 
 
 In his present state of excitement, from anx- 
 iety and curiosity, this mandate was hard to 
 obey. It was impossible for the stolen boy to 
 believe that any object, save himself, could have 
 drawn a person such a long way from any civi- 
 lised settlement ; and being well aware that his 
 father would offer a liberal reward to any per- 
 son who would rescue him, he was led to this 
 conclusion, " that, after long search, Don Ma- 
 nuel had at length found some person habituated 
 to negotiate with the Indians, and who had come 
 out for the purpose of ransoming him, but who, 
 probably, had become terrified with the known 
 ferocity of the Cumanches, and was likely to 
 return without effecting his purpose." 
 
 " Oh that I could meet with him, and take 
 from him some of the arms of which they speak ! 
 I am sure, if I were supported by a friend, and 
 had a good pistol in my hand, I could make my 
 way through all the Cumanches," were words
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 83 
 
 frequently hovering on the lips of Manuel at 
 this time ; but, alas ! they only served to irri- 
 tate his mind, without in the least contributing 
 to the end he so earnestly desired. 
 
 Twice afterwards the strange man was seen 
 in the woods, and once observed to shoot a bird ; 
 but after that he was seen no more ; and as con- 
 jecture respecting his appearance died away, the 
 hopes of Manuel died also ; but his resolution 
 remained as strong as ever. He felt that he 
 could only depend upon himself, and that, m 
 pursuance of his object, he must risk the ut- 
 most vengeance of Indian infliction; but he 
 thought that he could do this, rather than be 
 thus exiled from all that rendered life happy, 
 and be compelled to reside with those whom he 
 at once dreaded and despised. He felt at this 
 period of his opening mind, that necessity for 
 the ties of kindred and friendly intercourse 
 which are perhaps most acute in early life, when 
 the heart is open to every amiable impression, 
 and though subject to many errors, is seldom 
 hard or sordid. 
 
 " I must," said he, " have somebody to love, 
 and somebody to care for me. I must seek my 
 dear parents and my sister ; and even if I should
 
 84 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 be SO unhappy as never to find them, yet shall I 
 find some people in a Christian country, who 
 will pity and protect me as a Christian. Go 
 where I may, so I am in a civilised country, I 
 must be better off than amidst a nation of bar- 
 barians." 
 
 During the succeeding winter, all idea of de- 
 parture was suspended ; but not less busily did 
 the mind of the unfortunate boy labour in 
 thought with the project he contemplated ; and 
 never did he in the least relax in his attentions 
 to all the horses under his care, more especially 
 that fine one we have already mentioned, since to 
 his management of this animal he looked for his 
 power of accomplishing that project which now 
 so incessantly occupied his thoughts, that it 
 might be said to constitute alike his pain and 
 pleasure, and become to him a kind of exclusive 
 existence, unseen, but always operating.
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 85" 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The schemes of Manuel were interrupted, though 
 his intentions were only confirmed, in conse- 
 quence of the present year being that on which 
 the Cumanches perform those rites in honour of 
 the dead, peculiar to the Indians, and in which 
 they stand distinct from all other people who 
 ever have existed, so far as their annals are 
 transmitted. It is well known that all their 
 tribes, at the recurrence of seven or ten years, 
 repair to the graves of their relatives, whom 
 they disinter with the greatest care, and lament 
 over with every demonstration of the greatest 
 sorrow. This dreadful view of mortality, in 
 every stage of decay, so naturally disgusting to 
 every sense, they endure without shrinking, 
 and spend, upon the most loathsome objects the 
 mind can conceive, that love and respect, which 
 during the life of the subject they have seldom 
 appeared to feel. They approach these perish- 
 ing remains with profound respect, lavish on 
 them the fondest caresses, water them with tears 
 of sorrow, and shew in every respect an acute- 
 
 H
 
 86 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 ness of feeling which no person could have sup- 
 posed them capable of entertaining, especially 
 when they recalled their cruelty on some occa- 
 rions, and their gravity on all. 
 
 Manuel saw their emotions with a degree of 
 pity, but he could not .help thinking how much 
 better it would have been to shew such affection 
 to the living, whom it would render happy, than 
 to the dead, who felt it not ; and he considered 
 that an act of lamentation intended to end with 
 a feast, either must be connected with frivolity 
 or hypocrisy. When the lamentations had 
 ceased, he joined with the rest in restoring the 
 disturbed bodies to their graves, and covering 
 them with bark, and other substances, intended 
 to preserve them ; after which the ceremony 
 concluded, with a much more plentiful repast 
 than he had ever previously witnessed ; and on 
 their return to their own wigwams, he perceived 
 no traces of that sorrow which had lately been 
 so strikingly exhibited. 
 
 The whole design of an Indian, from his cradle 
 to his grave, is to live as his fathers have lived 
 before him. To this he devotes himself with 
 the zeal of a martyr and the courage of a war- 
 rior; and \yithout allowing himself to suppose
 
 THE STOLEJ< BOY. 87 
 
 that error can have existed, he continues to per- 
 petuate it, even in cases the most opposite to 
 those principles of reason which seem in many 
 respects to guide him. He is sagacious, discri- 
 minating, slow in judgment, self-controlled, and 
 generally temperate ; but neither time nor expe- 
 rience improve his condition, remove his pre- 
 judices, ameliorate his hardships, soften his aus- 
 terities, or advance his interests. Like the beasts 
 and birds, who share his forest domain, he ex- 
 ists as if by instinct, contented to be neither 
 better nor happier than the brood before him 
 had been; and for him light shines in vain, 
 since he prefers darkness to light, because his 
 fathers were born in darkness. 
 
 So blindly do these men follow their guides, 
 that Manuel found actions of revenge imposed 
 as duties, from father to son, and, failing him, 
 to far-distant kindred. Tustanuggi, who, con- 
 sidering him as a Cumanche, might be termed 
 a man of amiable disposition, committed a mur- 
 der, for the purpose of revenging the father of 
 his mother, who was dead many years before 
 himself, or the man he slew, saw the light ; and 
 in doing this, he excited the vengeance of that 
 man's family, who, it was well known, lay 
 
 H 2
 
 88 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 in wait for the blood of himself and Uswega. 
 Manuel was one day mistaken for the latter, 
 as he was returning alone with a string of 
 horses, and narrowly escaped having his skull 
 cleft by the tomahawk that was thrown at him 
 by a Cumanche, of evident skill, who, on pick- 
 ing up his weapon, gave him to understand that 
 the blow was not meant for him ; but if he 
 kept not silence, another would soon lay him 
 low. 
 
 The time again approached when the traders 
 were expected on the Red River, previous to 
 which parties of robbers had, as usual, visited 
 the Spanish settlements, but, as it appeared, to 
 little purpose, and, of course, the horses then in 
 possession were doubly valuable. Every time 
 this subject was alluded to, the heart of Manuel 
 throbbed as if it would burst his bosom, and 
 the blood rose to his cheek, and suffused his 
 features with burning blushes, which were hap- 
 pily imputed by Tustanuggi to his vexation at 
 finding Uswega was to visit the Red River, 
 whilst he was still considered meet only for 
 living with the women. The true cause of his 
 emotion was, the consciousness that now or 
 never was the time for his escape ; that the ef-
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 89 
 
 fort SO long contemplated must soon be made, 
 or he must resign himself to an existence which 
 every day became more hateful in his eyes. 
 
 Manuel had now for a long time so trained 
 the horse on which he placed his dependence, 
 that he knew it could far outstrip any other in 
 the possession of the settlement ; and having 
 never seen any other equally good, he had con- 
 tracted a belief that it was the best in the world; 
 and that if he did not avail himself of its great 
 properties, such a chance could never occur to 
 him again. Subduing the perturbation of his 
 spirits, lifting up his heart frequently to heaven, 
 and eagerly listening to every word which threw 
 light on the movements of the Indians, he now 
 held himself ready for flight, according as cir- 
 cumstances might favour his intentions. Within 
 a fortnight of the time fixed for their departure, 
 which was the full of the moon, Tustanuggi 
 ordered Manuel to ride the horse in that di- 
 rection which he was hereafter to take ; on 
 which occasion Uswega accompanied him, and 
 occasionally mounted the favourite. As this 
 boy was only an indifferent rider, the father did 
 this to accustom the horse to the way, and the 
 boy to the horse, which was a very spirited 
 
 I 3
 
 90 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 animal, and little likely to submit to a new 
 master, especially a young one ; but it was ne- 
 vertheless necessary that he should be mounted 
 by one of less weight, that his strength and 
 beauty might remain unimpaired, on arriving at 
 the place of barter. 
 
 The boys proceeded together for some time 
 very well, but when it was the pleasure of Us- 
 wega to mount the favourite, it proved so res- 
 tive, that for a long time there appeared little 
 chance of his retaining his seat ; and several 
 Indians, who were also present riding other 
 horses, destined to the future mart, condemned 
 the command of Tustanuggi, as one likely to 
 prove injurious both to the rider and the ani- 
 mal. At length, with a great bolt, the horse 
 galloped, with amazing rapidity, completely out 
 of sight, and the party followed, under a strong 
 impression that both " the horse and his rider " 
 were lost. 
 
 After traversing the same distance as fast as 
 their inferior horses would permit them, Ma- 
 nuel and the Cumanches arrived at length to 
 the spot where Uswega had been thrown on 
 the ground, and was found covered with bruises ; 
 the horse could not be seen.
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 91 
 
 *' Has he gone the way towards the Red 
 River ?" said an old Indian to the boy, as he 
 assisted him to rise. 
 
 " No ; he is gone the way towards Nachi- 
 toches, and will soon enter the forest that lies 
 betwixt the morass and the river, if he is not 
 there already." 
 
 • The Indian thought for a moment, and then 
 said to Manuel — " Go then towards the forest 
 and seek him ; he will know thy voice, and obey 
 thy command ; he is a beast of value, and must 
 be restored." 
 
 " That he will obey my voice, I am aware ; 
 but I shall become entangled in that forest, and 
 may never be able to return." 
 
 The Cumanche gave him exact directions how 
 to proceed, by marking certain trees which he 
 described, observing, that beyond the forest lay 
 an open prairie, bounded by the Red River ; 
 and added — " But go thou fearlessly, and we 
 will follow at a distance." 
 
 Manuel obeyed the command, and before he 
 reached the forest, found his darling quietly 
 grazing on a green turf of the finest verdure ; 
 at the sound of his voice, he readily came up 
 to him, but would not suffer himself to be led ;"
 
 92 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 SO that his old rider was obliged to mount him, 
 and wait the arrival of the Cumanches ; during 
 which time he recognised the spot, and found 
 readily every object described by the old Indian, 
 who, on arriving, took charge of Uswega's 
 horse, and highly praised the skill and intrepi- 
 dity Manuel had displayed. 
 
 On returning home, whither the discomfited 
 Uswega was slowly led, it was strongly insisted 
 upon by the party, that Manuel was the only 
 proper person to conduct the horse to the Red 
 River ; and it was so evident, from his conduct 
 on that day, that he could have no intention to 
 escape, that Tustanuggi seemed inclined to think 
 of it. He, however, observed, that if the horse 
 were taken every day over the same ground, he 
 would not fail to become used to it : and this 
 mode of conquering the difficulty should in the 
 first place be resorted to. 
 
 The following morning this was had recourse 
 to : but so strongly did Uswega himself recom- 
 mend the rest of the company keeping at a dis- 
 tance, imputing his own misfortune to riding in 
 company, that this caution was observed, and 
 they only followed in such a manner as to wit- 
 ness his success. He caused the horse again
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 93 
 
 apparently to run away, but it was now in the 
 direction they intended him to go. 
 
 When this had been practised several other 
 mornings, Manuel was permitted to go out 
 alone ; and Tustanuggi observed, he thought 
 this trial would suffice, and that for the three 
 following days the horse should be perfectly at 
 rest. 
 
 The poor boy heard these words with a sen- 
 sation that cannot be defined ; his heart smote 
 him as being guilty towards his master, in thus 
 forsaking him; nevertheless, his reason fully 
 acquitted him, seeing he had an unquestionable 
 right to regain the liberty of which he had been 
 unjustly deprived ; and by the same rule, to 
 take possession of one horse, in lieu of the 
 many stolen from his father, a point he had 
 often argued with his own conscience. The 
 contending feelings which pressed upon his 
 mind in this most awful moment were, how- 
 ever, such, that they entirely prevented him 
 from securing a little stock of provisions which 
 he had secreted ; and the presence of Tusta- 
 nuggi also hindered him from taking his bow 
 and arrows, the only means of procuring food 
 in the wilderness. Such, indeed, was his agita-
 
 94 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 tion, that many a time he reflected on it with 
 surprise, and ahnost wondered that, with all his 
 acquired stock of prudence, it had not led him 
 to bid farewell to the good Moscogi and her 
 beloved little daughter, in which case his scheme 
 would have been utterly ruined, and his capti- 
 vity ensured. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Manuel pursued his journey as before, at an 
 easy pace, till he reached that spot from which 
 Uswega's unlucky flight might be dated, when 
 he suddenly pricked his horse into a full gallop 
 towards the forest, in order that if any Cu- 
 manche was abroad in that direction, it might 
 be supposed he laboured under the same mis- 
 fortune that his master's son had experienced. 
 His quick eye darted, far and near, to discover 
 either friend or enemy ; but neither appeared ; 
 and he had the satisfaction to enter the forest 
 in less time than it could be expected that he 
 should have taken half his usual airing. 
 
 He now, with all the Indian caution, noted 
 every mark described by the old Cumanche ; 
 and dismounting, led his horse carefully for
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 93 
 
 many miles ; and to his great satisfaction, saw 
 the day decline, at a place where a little sweet 
 grass and a rippling stream promised the food 
 greatly needed by his generous but jaded steed, 
 to whose comfort he paid every possible atten- 
 tion. Such, however, was still his own anxiety, 
 so instinctively did he listen for those sounds 
 of pursuit which would have been to him sen- 
 tence of death, under its most terrific form, that 
 he could not venture to eat the piece of hominy 
 designed for his breakfast, and concealed in his 
 bosom, till he had climbed the highest tree in 
 the vicinity, and crouched in its thickest foliage. 
 Here, indeed, he slept, for exhausted nature 
 demanded repose ; but his sleep was disturbed 
 by terrific dreams ; and but for the pity he felt 
 for his horse, he would have pursued his jour- 
 ney by moonlight, unfavourable as it was for as- 
 certaining those marks in the vegetation, which 
 could alone enable him to gain the open country. 
 On reflecting on the instructions he had so 
 lately, and by such mere chance, received on 
 this head, he could not help thinking that they 
 had been given him by an especial Providence, 
 for the most merciful end, seeing that all the 
 knowledge he had previously gained, had re-
 
 96 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 lated much more to the country in the neigh-, 
 bourhood of Nachitoches, and the banks of the 
 Red River, than that which was to lead him 
 thither ; and that without his last instructions, 
 all the former would have been void. 
 
 Under this happy impression, fervent were his 
 thanks to Almighty God, when, with the first 
 beams of day, he prepared to renew his journey. 
 He found the forest now much more intricate 
 than before, and decidedly more difficult to ride 
 through than any which he had ever seen ; but 
 this circumstance he could hardly regret, since, 
 as the Cumanches always travel on horseback, 
 it would not be less difficult to his pursuers than 
 himself; he trusted, however, that he had none, 
 at least in this direction, and flattered himself 
 (most probably with justice) that if he was in- 
 deed sought, they would go in that direction to 
 the Red River, where the ship was expected, by 
 themselves. This was in a contrary direction to 
 that he'pursued, because the difficulties of pass- 
 ing this very forest rendered it easier to the In- 
 dians to visit the traders considerably higher up 
 the river, i.e. nearer to its source. 
 
 The situation of the sun was at this time a 
 guide of great importance to Manuel, since he
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 97 
 
 was well acquainted with the general bearings 
 of the country he desired to traverse ; and before 
 his glorious guide reached the meridian, the 
 forest was far less crowded with trees, and he 
 saw that he should diverge into the prairie. 
 When, however, this noble barrier between him 
 and the Cumanches was passed, seeing the day- 
 was extremely hot, he thought it right that his 
 faithful companion and only friend should enjoy 
 some repose, before they ventured from under 
 the shade ; and accordingly they halted for a 
 considerable space. 
 
 At this time Manuel began to suffer the pains 
 of hunger, and bitterly repented his own defi- 
 ciency of self-command, at the moment of his 
 departure. When he saw that his horse, which 
 (in memory of his home) he called Antonio, was 
 asleep, and he had covered his head with leaves 
 and branches, to guard him from the musquitoes, 
 he returned into the forest, for the purpose of 
 collecting some kind of nuts and fruit, remem- 
 bering that now he was entering the open coun- 
 try, he should have no chance for food of any 
 kind. In a short time he found a tree of nuts, 
 which, although of a bitter quality, allayed his 
 hunger ; after which, he contrived to stow a 
 
 I
 
 98 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 quantity of them in his bosom, and would cer- 
 tainly have made a good provision for the wants 
 of another day, if the sound of a rattlesnake un- 
 der the tree, prepared to strike a bird, had not 
 exceedingly alarmed him, and caused him to fly 
 with precipitation from such a dangerous neigh- 
 bourhood. 
 
 In the evening he pursued his way more 
 slowly, and, by the light of a beautiful moon, 
 advanced towards the river, which had been so 
 long the object of his wishes, and towards which, 
 numerous little diverging streams directed him ; 
 but he soon became aware that it was too pro- 
 bable he was wasting both his own strength and 
 that of his horse, so that they stopped as by mu- 
 tual consent, and laid down on the open heath 
 until the morning.
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 99 
 
 When the sun rose, Manuel stretched himself, 
 and, gazing round on the boundless expanse, 
 slowly lighted up as the mists dispersed, thought 
 that he must feel at this moment as the first man 
 felt on his creation. He seemed to be alone in 
 the vast universe — -a being cut off from every 
 human tie, and left to steer his way in an un- 
 known sea, without guide or compass, — "And 
 yet," said the lonely boy, as he patted the sides 
 of his loved Antonio, " I am not wholly alone, 
 for thou, my good fellow, art a safe companion, 
 and a good conductor ; for, if I mistake not, we 
 are within a furlong of the Red River itself." 
 
 Yes ! indeed that long-desired object was now 
 before him ; and Park himself, when he beheld 
 the majestic Niger, never could experience more 
 delightful sensations, than those which now 
 cheered the breast of the stolen boy. 
 
 Alas ! he had need of comfort in mind, for 
 little had he in body, seeing the nuts of the pre- 
 ceding day rendered him a very scanty break- 
 fast ; and so dried and bad was the grass around 
 the place, that his poor horse was very insuf- 
 
 I 2
 
 loo THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 ficiently fed, and little inclined to pursue his 
 journey. By slow degrees, they traversed the 
 banks of the river, often looking round for a few 
 stunted tufts of maize, but seldom finding any. 
 
 One object, however, soon struck, and for a 
 moment delighted, the eyes of Manuel. This 
 was a beautiful American vessel, the very one 
 towards which his wishes so long had pointed. 
 The first emotion he felt was a desire instantly 
 to hail her, and request the protection and as- 
 sistance he so much required. Before he at- 
 tempted this, however, the caution he had ac- 
 quired among the Indians induced him to pause ; 
 — he recollected that these people were going, 
 not returning ; and that if he entered their ves- 
 sel, he should be carried into the very midst of 
 the people from whom he had escaped ; and 
 even, if not delivered up to them, he could 
 hardly hope to elude the vigilance of their ob- 
 servations, or be protected from the severity of 
 their punishments. Besides, he had understood, 
 from all he had heard, that these dealers were 
 sordid and over-reaching — that they were well 
 aware the horses and mules they purchased had 
 been stolen from his countrymen ; and, " if such 
 was their disposition, would they not rob him
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 101 
 
 of his horse, and leave him to perish in the wil- 
 derness alone r" 
 
 Pursuing these reflections, Manuel pushed his 
 horse into a little hollow below the bank, where 
 he quietly waited till the vessel was got to a 
 considerable distance, when he again put his 
 horse to its speed, nor rested till he had ad- 
 vanced so far, that the object of his suspicion 
 had completely vanished from sight, and he again 
 remained the only human being within the im- 
 mense circle of cheerless desert by which he was 
 surrounded. 
 
 But the sun did not go down on this day, be- 
 fore poor Manuel severely repented his want of 
 confidence in the only persons whom he was 
 likely to see in his long journey, in whose pity 
 he could place any trust ; and he now hated in 
 himself that cold, suspicious temper, which had 
 been nurtured in him by Indian education, and 
 which he fancied could not be required in an in- 
 tercourse with Christians of any country. He 
 knew that the cannibal tribe of the Alonquas had 
 a settlement at no great distance from the Red 
 River, on the desert he was passing ; and that 
 the Choctaws had several towns betwixt this 
 part and Nachitoches, and that in both he would 
 
 I 3
 
 l02 
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 find enemies ; for the Cumanches, as the most 
 warlike and formidable, are regarded with fear 
 or dislike by all ; and the Choctaws would re- 
 venge their late losses, by seizing any individual 
 of that nation to whom they would assign him. 
 Of course his only safety lay in keeping as near 
 as possible to the river ; but in this case famine, 
 the most dreadful of all deaths, appeared inevi- 
 table. 
 
 Water, which happily was of the purest kind, 
 was now the only refreshment Manuel or his 
 horse partook, and that only made the pains of 
 hunger felt more keenly : often would Manuel 
 think of his bows and arrows, and sometimes he 
 would try to make one from the trees that now 
 and then might be found ; but his efforts were 
 ineffectual ; and he could only travel slowly for- 
 ward, in hopes of once more entering a wooded 
 district, where birds might be plentiful, and his 
 efforts to obtain them more successful. 
 
 In the lonely region he was now passing, the 
 awful stillness was rarely broken in upon by ani- 
 mal life ; sometimes a small hare or rabbit would 
 dart past him into its burrow, or the flapping 
 wings of some prodigious bird attract his eye, as 
 it sailed through the bright firmament in solitary
 
 THE STOLEN BoY. 103 
 
 tlfavel. Otherwise, for two successive days, he 
 seemed alone in the universe. 
 
 His strength was nearly exhausted j his eyes 
 grew dim ; and he almost desired to lie down 
 and die, when the welcome forest again ap- 
 peared, which was not less necessary to his 
 wearied and hungry steed than himself, seeing 
 that although better fed than his master, it was 
 several days since he had tasted any herbage 
 sweet and nutritive ; and his travel, except du- 
 ring the hottest portion of the day, had never 
 been suspended. In the recesses of the forest 
 again glades of green grass were found; but, 
 alas ! there were no fruits save nuts, which, 
 difficult of access, required strength Manuel no 
 longer possessed ; and to shoot, or kill a bird, 
 appeared a more likely means of preserving ex- 
 istence. 
 
 In this pursuit he was continually foiled ; but 
 on arriving at a little stream abounding with 
 fish, he plunged into it, and was so fortunate as 
 to secure a fine trout, which having killed, he 
 lighted a fire by rubbing sticks, as he had been 
 taught by Tustanuggi, and roasted it by run- 
 ning a long stick through the fish, which was 
 then thrust into the ground. Happily for him»
 
 104 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 his fire answered a double purpose, for whilst 
 he watched with impatience this preparation for 
 his food, a large beast of prey darted from the 
 underwood, as if about to spring upon his horse, 
 but on sight of the fire, fled into the recesses of 
 the forest. 
 
 This new danger awoke painful surmises for 
 the future in the mind of Manuel ; but such was 
 his present distress, that it only quickened his 
 movements in securing his food, which he ate 
 half raw, yet thought delicious. With the pru- 
 dence for which it is certain he had to thank 
 his former habits, he did not eat to excess, but 
 carefully placed the remainder of his food in 
 some leaves, and tied it with strings of grass 
 round his body ; after which, he stretched him- 
 self by the side of his fire, and in the belief that 
 it would prove his protection, resigned himself 
 to sleep, which he exceedingly required, as 
 hunger lately kept him awake, though it happily 
 had not the same eff'ect on Antonio. 
 
 He was awakened by the startling and neigh- 
 ing of his faithful animal, which was laid close 
 beside him, and which he instantly mounted, 
 aware that danger of some kind threatened 
 them. How to proceed he knew not, and there-
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 105 
 
 fore resigned himself to the instinctive wisdom 
 of the alarmed animal, which threaded its way 
 with wonderful velocity through the thickest 
 part of the forest, and never seemed willing to 
 halt till he emerged into the open country once 
 more ; but they had now lost sight of the Red 
 River. 
 
 Conscious of his obligations to Antonio, Ma- 
 nuel would not eat again till he had attended to 
 the wants of his wearied beast, which laid down 
 at his bidding, whilst he sought about for little 
 tufts of good grass, and occasional handful of 
 maize, which he gathered for his food, making 
 a bag of the calico shirt, which was his only 
 clothing, in which he carried the result of his 
 labours to the wearied horse. When the poor 
 creature was fed, and laid down to sleep, Ma- 
 nuel thankfully untied his own provision, and 
 fed also. 
 
 By climbing into the highest tree he could 
 find (now a work of terrible labour), he had the 
 satisfaction to see the course of the Red River, 
 and be aware that he was still in the right 
 track, and would probably before long reach 
 that river, which was the only barrier of which 
 he had any fear. For a moment his spirits
 
 106 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 rose, with the idea that he had accomplished 
 much the greatest part of his journey ; but they 
 were as instantly repressed, from recollecting 
 that he was now in the very neighbourhood of 
 the Indian towns. 
 
 Trying to reassure himself, he proceeded now 
 more cautiously, looking round on every side, 
 and many a time fancying he saw a snake rise, 
 when it was only the dimness of his own eyes, 
 arising from diminished strength, that awoke 
 his fears. Towards nightfall, however, it was 
 certain that he did see an Indian town, and was 
 in the direct way to enter it. 
 
 The question arose as before, " might he 
 trust the well-known hospitality of the Indians?" 
 These people were far, very far from the settle- 
 ment he had left — they could undoubtedly for- 
 ward him to Nachitoches, by a more direct road 
 than he was pursuing — they might take pity on 
 his youth, and relieve his wants — a few days' 
 rest and food would restore him, for which he 
 could hereafter reward them a hundred-fold, 
 if ever he arrived in his father's house — " But 
 how did he know this was not the tribe of can- 
 nibals, of whom he had the most unmitigated 
 horror ?"
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 107 
 
 The moment this question arose in Manuel's 
 mind, he turned his horse's head from the set- 
 tlement ; yet with a melancholy smile he said 
 to it — " It is certain they would get little pick- 
 ing from either your bones or mine ;" and in- 
 deed, so thin and gaunt were both become, that 
 one would not have supposed it possible they 
 could have existed another day. To hide him- 
 self from the Indians, he entered a wood in the 
 same direction, but remained during the follow- 
 ing night in the skirts, being fearful of entering, 
 lest he should encounter wild beasts, and not 
 daring to make a fire, lest it should attract at- 
 tention from the Indians. These evils in some 
 measure diverted him from the pains of hunger 
 which he again experienced, and which, during 
 the hours of darkness, it was impossible to alle- 
 viate ; but his horse, more fortunate, could 
 nibble the herbage near him.
 
 108 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The following day brought no relief to poor 
 Manuel, who now had no means of allaying the 
 claims of his appetite, besides eating the young 
 leaves of certain trees, and these unfortunately 
 were immediately rejected by his stomach, so 
 that he obtained no nourishment from them, 
 and was at length compelled to abstain from 
 eating them. 
 
 Towards evening he reached the river so 
 long expected ; and as he was now at a consi- 
 derable distance from the Red River, into which 
 it falls, and, of course, so much nearer to its 
 source, there is little doubt but his horse could 
 have forded it, or swam it, at an earlier period, 
 but now it was impossible. Weak as he was, 
 it was yet to him a source of comfort, and he 
 would have laid down to sleep on its banks, if 
 they had not swarmed with musquitoes, to a 
 greater degree than he had yet witnessed ; and 
 having lately suffered much from these insects, 
 he sought to avoid more. 
 
 The following day, he pursued this stream 
 towards its source so far, that he was enabled
 
 THE STOLEN BOY, 109 
 
 to cross it, and having done so, had the inex- 
 pressible satisfaction of seeing a kind of village, 
 or settlement, before him, but whether of Indian 
 or civilized construction, he could not tell. He 
 was now so wearied and worn down, that his 
 mind was incapable of any strong emotion, and 
 he wished only to creep into a hut and die ; 
 nevertheless, he combined with this idea a sense 
 of consolation in the presence of his fellow- 
 creatures, when that moment should arrive. 
 He consequently exerted himself to the utmost 
 to reach the village, and effected his purpose 
 before sunset ; but on entering the place, he 
 saw no one stirring, nor heard sounds indicating 
 human existence. 
 
 Manuel alighted, and entered the first hut 
 he saw; it was perfectly empty, yet indicated 
 that it had been lately inhabited. Another and 
 another was found in the same situation ; not 
 a single human being was left in the settle- 
 ment. 
 
 When he finished his search, it was quite 
 dark, and the poor boy, sitting down on the floor 
 of the last hut he had entered, wept bitterly 
 over the most terrible disappointment he had 
 hitherto experienced. He had, after so many. 
 
 K
 
 110 THE STULEN BOY. 
 
 toilsome days, reached the habitation of man, 
 yet found no voice to bid him welcome, no hand 
 to administer to his wants — life would close on 
 him in the desert. 
 
 But the hour of dissolution, though expected, 
 did not arrive ; Manuel slept many hours, and 
 on raising his head, found the sun was high. 
 He rose, and going out, saw his horse appa- 
 rently busily employed, at a little distance, in 
 picking something from the ground. To his 
 delight, he found that a bag of maize had been 
 scattered there, and he had therefore every 
 reason to believe that Antonio had made a 
 hearty breakfast before his arrival, as indeed 
 might be perceived by the renewed lustre of his 
 eye, and the manner in which he approached 
 his master. 
 
 It will be readily conceived with what eager- 
 ness the famished youth threw himself on the 
 ground and ate those precious grains — how care- 
 fully he then gathered them, and sought in the 
 first hut a vessel in which he could wash off the 
 chaff. The quantity obtained was indeed far 
 from satisfying his wants ; but there can be no 
 doubt but it sufficed to prevent him from dying 
 of hunger, and the strength it imparted gave him
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. Ill 
 
 power to make a diligent search through the 
 place ; and though only rewarded by obtaining 
 a small portion of dried venison, in a state which 
 we should consider loathsome, to him it was an 
 invaluable prize. 
 
 On this slight refreshment, Manuel once more 
 set forward, after carefully recalling to his mind 
 all that he had heard calculated for his guidance 
 to Nachitoches, and fervently thanking God for 
 the mercies he^had experienced. 
 
 When he had proceeded but a short way, he 
 again became sensible of extreme weakness ; but 
 his horse was more effectually recruited, and 
 bore him through the whole day in a wonderful 
 manner ; and he had the satisfaction of recog- 
 nising many circumstances which proved that he 
 was directing his course aright. He also ob- 
 tained a few nuts, and might have got a fish, 
 but he had not strength to throw it on the bank ; 
 so that he fancied he could already perceive he 
 was drawing near the land of promise, and that 
 the bitterness of death was passed. 
 
 But on the following day, his poor horse no 
 longer obeyed his wishes, and his own strength 
 failed so entirely, that all hope again vanished 
 from his heart, until, at the evening hour, he 
 
 K 2
 
 112 THE STOLEN BOY, 
 
 again feasted his eyes with the Red River, now 
 a noble stream, and affording him a positive as- 
 surance that he was within a short distance of 
 civilised life. As the nights were now at the 
 darkest, he was compelled to take up his bivouac 
 as usual ; but he could hardly help persuading 
 himself that he was already near to human habi- 
 tations ; though in this he was mistaken. 
 
 The following morning he arose, as usual, 
 with the sun, and tried, by every means in his 
 power, to aid his drooping horse ; one of which 
 was, plunging into a stream of pure water — a 
 refreshment he always took himself, when it was 
 practicable. He then took the last of his nuts, 
 which only served to render his appetite more 
 poignant ; but he yet determined to resist eating 
 the foliage which tempted him, for he said — 
 "■ Who knows but I may see a village, or even 
 Nachitoches itself ? and then I shall have every 
 thing." 
 
 But many a weary mile yet lay between him 
 and the haven he sought, and his voice and 
 caresses frequently failed to urge his faithful 
 steed to further exertions j and often did his 
 upturned eye seem to look reproachfully, yet 
 pitifully, upon his wretched master. When,
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 113 
 
 however, they obtained a near view of the Red 
 River, and saw vessels indicating population in 
 their vicinity, he, too, seemed inspired by a de- 
 sire once more to visit mankind, and he stepped 
 forward with renovated spirit. 
 
 As the sun grew high, Manuel was aware that 
 it was time he should take his usual repose ; 
 but as at this time every thing around him indi- 
 cated that the end of his hopes were obtained — 
 that Nachitoches itself was before him — he could 
 not bring himself to stop ; and though he 
 alighted to kneel and thank God for having 
 so nearly accomplished his ardent desire, he in- 
 stantly resumed his journey. — '' Antonio, dear 
 Antonio, only go a little longer, and you shall 
 have corn and water of the best ; and you shall 
 rest, day after day, in a comfortable stable, or 
 lie in a green meadow the rest of your life." 
 
 Such were the promises and consolations of- 
 fered continually to the poor animal ; but on his 
 actual arrival at that place, so long the object of 
 his incessant desire, there seemed little proba- 
 bility of their fulfilment. 
 
 It was the Sabbath day, a day unregistered 
 by the Indians of course, and which had in a 
 great measure, faded from the memory of Ma-
 
 \li THE SIOLEW BoY. 
 
 nuel. Many of the inhabitants of Nachitoches 
 were returning from their place of worship, or 
 walking to the outskirts of the town, and the 
 appearance of numbers which they presented 
 seemed wonderful in the dazzled eyes of poor 
 Manuel, He had long desired to see his fellow- 
 creatures, but he felt at this moment rather dis- 
 tressed than comforted by the view ; and that 
 most heart-sinking of all sensations, being soli- 
 tary in a crowd, pressed heavy upon him.—" No 
 one," said he, " approaches me, no one speaks 
 to me — do they not see that I am dying with 
 hunger ?'' 
 
 It was yet plain that every eye was bent upon 
 him, as well they might, for he appeared to all 
 a terrific phantom. Both himself and his horse 
 were so attenuated, that their ribs were seen as 
 plain as those of a skeleton ; and they moved so 
 slowly, that there was something awful in their 
 gait. The few tattered rags which still clung to 
 Manuel waved in the wind, and his hollow cheeks, 
 staring eyes, and matted hair, united in his per- 
 son the representation of famine and madness — 
 of every thing that was at once deplorable and 
 terrible. 
 
 Still he went on, and still the people gazed
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 115 
 
 after him ; but at the corner of a street, a gen- 
 tleman was crossing with his son, and the horse, 
 wearied beyond endurance, stumbled and fell 
 just before him. At this moment, Manuel, col- 
 lecting all his energies, threw himself on his 
 knees before the stranger, and holding up his 
 bony hands, cried out, in his own language, in 
 a faint, hollow voice — " Oh ! sir, have pity on 
 me — I am a Christian boy, and not a Cuman- 
 che." 
 
 " Whatever you may be, I will take care of 
 you ; rise if you can, my poor child, and go 
 with me." 
 
 But, alas ! this was beyond his power ; the 
 stranger had spoken to him in his own language, 
 and in a tone of kindness, which so deeply af- 
 fected the poor long-sufiering boy, that he in- 
 stantly fainted, and was believed to be dead by 
 all who saw him fall, and beheld the situation 
 to which he was reduced. Luckily, amongst 
 other gazers at this strange spectacle, was a me- 
 dical man of great experience, by whose skill 
 the weak lamp of life was again rekindled. 
 
 So soon as he could bear motion, his first 
 friend, whom I shall call Mr. Osborne, had him 
 conveyed to his house, when he was placed in a
 
 '116 THE STOLEN BOt. 
 
 comfortable bed, provided with clean linen, and 
 attended with the utmost humanity and skill ; 
 by which means he was, in a few hours, placed 
 out of immediate danger. The first words he 
 spoke were an inquiry after his horse ; and when 
 told that it was as well provided for as himself, 
 weak as he was, he expressed his gratitude 
 warmly ; on which he was earnestly advised not 
 to say any thing more at present, and to endea- 
 vour to keep his mind as calm as possible. 
 
 In the mean time, many conjectures were 
 made respecting poor. Manuel in the town ; and 
 public curiosity and compassion once excited, 
 every one became impatient to know something 
 respecting him ; and as many strangers were 
 there, and amongst them several Spaniards, in 
 whose tongue it was said he had spoken, these 
 especially greatly desired to question him. This 
 interference with his protege Mr. Osborne re- 
 sisted, saying, that until the boy was considera- 
 bly better, not a single question should be asked, 
 nor a remark made in his presence, which could 
 agitate him. 
 
 As, however, every day rendered his son more 
 intimate with Manuel, it was not surprising that 
 this young gentleman was soon able to inform
 
 THE STOLEN? BOY. 117 
 
 his father of the principal circumstances con- 
 nected with his history, both as to his being 
 stolen from San Antonio about three years be- 
 fore, and his miraculous preservation through a 
 journey of nearly four hundred miles. 
 
 These particulars Mr. Osborne immediately 
 communicated to Don Ignatio, a friend of his, 
 who had often been to San Antonio, and was ac- 
 quainted with Don Manuel del Perez, who, he 
 observed, did indeed lose his eldest son at that 
 time, and was, together with his wife, plunged 
 into the deepest affliction for the loss of him, inso- 
 much that he had left San Antonio in conse- 
 quence, but not, he believed, till he had been satis- 
 fied that both his son and his servant were dead. 
 
 This account of the affair was confirmed by 
 another gentleman, who had resided in San 
 Antonio at the time, and said, " that he had 
 actually seen the clothes worn by the stolen boy 
 in possession of his father, to whom they had 
 been brought by an aged Indian." This gen- 
 tleman said further — " that so bitterly had the 
 mother of the stolen boy grieved for his loss, 
 that her youngest child had died, in consequence 
 of the effect on his sustenance occasioned by her 
 sorrow ; and that the continual anxiety produced
 
 lis THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 on both parents was such, that they had at 
 length removed to New York, where he believed 
 they were, with their only daughter, living at 
 this very time." . 
 
 It was evident from these accounts, either that 
 the parents of Manuel had been imposed upon 
 with a false account of his death, or that the 
 youth now calling himself Manuel was an im- 
 postor ; and to the latter belief every person 
 seemed inclined, probably because it added con- 
 siderably to the wonders of the tale. That a 
 Cumanche Indian should conceive it possible to 
 step into the place of a Spanish gentleman's son, 
 and suppose that in three years all traces of 
 identity would be lost — that he should seek, by 
 native ingenuity, to supply all original peculiar- 
 ities and attainments — was really so surprising, 
 and argued such talents, that Manuel became 
 not less an object of curiosity in the second 
 place, than of interest in the first. 
 
 This view of the matter Mr. Osborne could 
 not for a moment take ; for although Manuel 
 did not speak his own language fluently, from 
 so long disuse, yet he spoke it very differently 
 to what any Cumanche could do ; and as he be- 
 gan to recover, it was evident that his skin had
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 119 
 
 originally been of a different colour, and what 
 might be expected in an European Spaniard. 
 Why the Cumanches should, at the risk of being 
 punished, take the pains to send his clothing to 
 his parents, so long a journey, he could not, in 
 the first instance, conceive ; but when poor Ma- 
 nuel was able to converse on the subject, he then 
 saw clearly that Tustanuggi, having determined 
 to adopt him as a son, took this method of de- 
 ceiving his father, in order that he might pre- 
 vent him from all further search after a son, for 
 whom it might be supposed he would never cease 
 to inquire. 
 
 So soon as his kind protector had satisfied his 
 own mind on this important point, he began to 
 make enquiries as to the possibility of informing 
 Don Manuel on the subject of his son's safety. 
 In the course of his conversations on this point, 
 he learnt, to his great satisfaction, that it was 
 not to New York, but Savannah, that he had 
 removed ; and this point once ascertained, he 
 determined to complete his " labour of love," by 
 taking the boy thither himself, and restore him 
 to those who had long lamented him as dead. 
 
 As it will be evident to our readers that only 
 vague reports have hitherto reached them, as to
 
 120 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 the actual situation of Don Manuel's family, we 
 shall now leave our stolen boy to the kind nur- 
 sing of his American friends, and look into the 
 house of his father, on that eventful night when 
 he entered upon a life of such peculiar character. 
 Happy are we, that although still pale and weak 
 — still surrounded by strangers, and scarcely 
 assured of the existence of his parents — we yet 
 consider him placed under the kindest protection, 
 making sure progress in improvement, in health, 
 education, and consequently, happiness. 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 It may perhaps be recollected, that at the time 
 when poor Manuel was borne away from his fa- 
 ther's stables, he did not cease to shriek with all 
 his might, so long as he had breath or strength. 
 His voice, there is every reason to believe, awoke 
 his mother, as she started from her couch, ex- 
 claiming — " That Manuel must have fallen, and 
 hurt himself." 
 
 To this observation her husband replied, by 
 an assurance that she was mistaken, as he had
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 121 
 
 heard no sound of any kind ; and when, in an- 
 swer to his inquiries, the servants assured him 
 that Manuel was then gone to the stables to visit 
 his pony, it was concluded that her fears were 
 entirely false, and she was entreated to compose 
 herself, and finish her siesta. 
 
 This she found impossible ; but supposing 
 herself to be in error, she remained for some 
 time in the apartment, and then went out to 
 walk in the garden, and enjoy the evening air. 
 Whilst there, finding her spirits much oppress- 
 ed, (for the sound of her dear son's voice still 
 seemed ringing in her ears), she sent a servant 
 to the stables, to desire that he would come and 
 walk with her, till it was his hour for retiring. 
 
 The servant so dispatched, before he arrived 
 at the place, was sensible that many horses had 
 been there, and that something particular had 
 occurred ; and he ran forward in great conster- 
 nation. The total emptiness of the stable, the 
 signs of scuffling on the ground, together with a 
 part of Diego's torn clothing, told the fatal truth, 
 that robbery had taken place, probably attended 
 with murder. 
 
 The alarm was now given to the family ; and 
 Don Manuel, who was just awake, lost not a 
 
 I.
 
 122 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 moment in calling on his friends to join him in 
 pursuit; whilst Donna Seraphina, almost frantic, 
 ran from place to place, in agony, calling in vain 
 on her lost child, and bitterly reproaching her- 
 self for having allowed the cry of her son to 
 sound in her ear unheeded. 
 
 By the light of the moon the path of the Cu- 
 manche horses was for some distance visible ; 
 and so soon as horses and men could be col- 
 lected, adequate to the proposed rescue, Don 
 Manuel set out with a well-armed troop, in that 
 direction where the tearing of the turf was visi- 
 ble. It afterwards appeared, that the cunning 
 marauders had descended in one direction, and 
 returned in another, a circumstance not disco- 
 vered till the following morning, when, from the 
 marks of the hoofs, it was found that Don Ma- 
 nuel had taken the wrong direction. His pur- 
 suit was indeed checked by the intervention of 
 the broad forest, in which himself and followers 
 soon became involved, and wandered in hopeless 
 perplexity, until conscious that, without proper 
 guides, they could never penetrate it, they re- 
 turned by degrees, and with great difficulty, after 
 experiencing for several days all the evils of 
 hunger, apprehension, and fatigue.
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 123 
 
 Don Manuel's next effort for the recovery of 
 his son, was by engaging the Indians themselves 
 in his service, particularly the Choctaws, who 
 knew and remembered his son ; and through 
 their mediation he hoped to trace the place to 
 which he had been conveyed, promising, through 
 them, to pay a princely ransom for their prisoner, 
 and freely forgive their oiEfences towards him. 
 From these people, however, he could gain no 
 information ; and although he sent to examine 
 all the settlements of which he could obtain any 
 tidings, he still remained in total ignorance of 
 the fate of his son and servant. Neither could 
 he learn that any horses or mules, of the descrip- 
 tion of his own, had found their way into the 
 United States on the one hand, or into Mexico 
 on the other ; in every respect to him, darkness 
 sat on the fate of his son, which neither his 
 cares, his activity, nor his wealth, had power to 
 unveil. 
 
 Whilst the father thus searched unavailingly 
 for that beloved child, so long his pride and de- 
 light, the unhappy mother, devoured by the most 
 distressing anxiety, experienced still severer sor- 
 row ; and her youngest offspring pined away like 
 a withering flower. 
 
 L 2
 
 124 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 On returning from the last fruitless expedition 
 he had made, Don Manuel determined, that al- 
 though his inquiries after his child would never 
 cease, that he would not again subject his wife 
 to the increased solicitude occasioned by his own 
 absence ; and he sat down once more in his own 
 house as an inhabitant. Scarcely had he done 
 so, when that Indian arrived who had doubtless 
 been dispatched by Tustanuggi, but was not of 
 his own nation, and who, after a long oration on 
 the shortness of life, and the folly of grief, pre- 
 sented the afflicted parents with the garments of 
 their child, and informed them that he slept in a 
 far distant grave. 
 
 Many times had Donna Seraphina, in the first 
 days of her sorrow, protested, " that if she knew 
 her child was dead, she should be resigned to 
 lose him, but that the dre^d of his sufferings 
 among the Cumanches, or Alonquas, was more 
 than she could endure ;" and in this sentiment 
 her husband had concurred. But when the 
 awful destiny of the poor boy was announced — 
 when they conceived him to have pined away in 
 sickness and sorrow, among a savage tribe — they 
 could not forbear to lament his death, with all 
 the poignancy of a new and unexpected sorrow;
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 125 
 
 and they hung over his well-known garments 
 with bitter anguish and floods of tears. 
 
 When Don Manuel was able to examine the man 
 farther, he was informed truly that poor Diego 
 had died of the bite of a rattlesnake, and his 
 body been left in the woods ; but the time of his 
 death was specified as occurring in the course of 
 the journey, the real time being probably un- 
 known to the relator, as being a circumstance 
 deemed immaterial by Tustanuggi, when he pre- 
 pared the fictitious narrative of Manuel's death. 
 
 Orders were given to the servants to feed 
 the Indian with whatever he liked, and reward 
 him liberally ; whilst the unhappy parents shut 
 themselves up in their own apartment, to seek 
 in prayer and meditation, aided by the ceremo- 
 nies of their religion, that support in their afliic- 
 tion, which it might be said their new loss de- 
 manded. 
 
 In the mean time, the servants, who were 
 attached to their superiors, and particularly fond 
 of little Manuel, sought to gain from the Indian 
 all particulars of his death ; and finding him 
 (according to their universal custom) exceeding 
 silent, they plied him with liquor, as a tempta-
 
 126 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 tion he could not resist, and which would not 
 fail to render him more talkative. 
 
 From all which they now gained from him, 
 the more intelligent were led to believe that their 
 young master was not dead, and that the clothes 
 had been only sent as a feint, to deter Don 
 Manuel from farther search ; but as they were 
 led also to believe that the poor child was re- 
 served for some horrible fate, they resolved not 
 to add by such surmise to his present afflic- 
 tion. — " In the morning," said they, " we will 
 tell him what the Indian has said in his cups, 
 and he shall examine him more closely." 
 
 But when the morning came, the Indian was 
 gone ; though secured, as they thought, by his 
 own complete intoxication, as well as by the 
 fastenings of his chamber, he was gone forth, 
 and never could be traced. 
 
 Often did the servants consult together on the 
 propriety of revealing their suspicions, but they 
 could never find a time when it would not have 
 been cruel to add to the sorrows of their afflicted 
 master. These sorrows were now multiplied ; 
 for the infant boy died within a month after 
 Manuel's death was announced ; and his mother 
 was pronounced in a state of the utmost danger.
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 127 
 
 Regardless of every thing, save the health of 
 his beloved wife, and convinced that every thing 
 around her contributed to remind her of her 
 twofold loss, Don Manuel hastily arranged his 
 affairs, and determined to leave for ever a place 
 which to him had proved so disastrous. He 
 could not, however, quit America altogether at 
 present, without injury to the property of others 
 as well as his own ; therefore he determined, in 
 the first place, to procure change of scene, and 
 the best medical aid, for his lady, and afterwards 
 fix on some seaport town suitable for his views 
 as a merchant, yet removed from scenes con- 
 nected with his irreparable losses as a father. 
 
 In consequence of this determination, he now 
 sailed with his family for New York, where he 
 had several friends, who entered into his feelings 
 with the warmest sympathy, and left no means 
 untried to restore the health and cheer the spirits 
 of Donna Seraphina. This was, however, best 
 effected by her own sense of duty to her beloved 
 husband, and the delight she was still capable of 
 taking in her little daughter, who, having the 
 advantage of instruction in this large city, im- 
 proved rapidly in her education, and daily drew
 
 128 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 her mother from sorrowful contemplation on the 
 past, to thankfulnes.-^ for the present blessing. 
 But the time too soon arrived, when th? health 
 of this their only blossom suffered from the cli- 
 mate, which was too cold for a southern flower ; 
 and the parents were warned to depart, lest their 
 last hope should be taken from them. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 On quitting New York, the long- treasured secret 
 of the servants of Don Manuel escaped them, by 
 one of those accidents that can neither be fore- 
 seen nor guarded against. In the vessel in which 
 they now proceeded to Savannah, two of the pas- 
 sengers were dilating on the deceitfulness of the 
 Indians, and giving an instance, in which, with- 
 out telling a lie, a Creek chief had yet fully em- 
 bued a story with untruth ; when Donna Sera- 
 phina's maid, looking at her master's valet, 
 observed — " That was just the way in which 
 that old man who brought master Manuel's 
 clothes told lies about his death. I believe him 
 alive yet."
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 129 
 
 *' So do not I," said the man. 
 
 As these words were unfortunately spoken 
 within hearing of the master and mistress, both 
 servants were immediately questioned by them ; 
 and in consequence, those wounds which time 
 and absence had somewhat healed, again bled in 
 both their bosoms, and neither the caresses of 
 their little girl, nor the anxiety they felt to pre- 
 serve her from partaking their emotions, and 
 thereby adding to her complaints, could save 
 them from renewed sorrow. So decidedly was 
 the distressed mother persuaded that her son had 
 been preserved, that he might become a future 
 victim, that at some moments she believed he 
 was still living, and besought her husband again 
 to seek him, protesting that she would accom- 
 pany him all over the continent of America ; at 
 other times she would consider that he had 
 already suffered under the most cruel tortures, 
 and she would rend her own heart, and that of 
 her husband and child, by witnessing the ill- 
 suppressed agonies this thought awakened in 
 her bosom. 
 
 Such was the state of their minds on their ar- 
 rival at Savannah, which, though not a healthy 
 place to the inhabitants of cold climates, was a
 
 130 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 present restorative to the little girl, whose re- 
 covered looks consoled her parents, who endea- 
 voured to overcome the pangs of memory for her 
 sake, and look forward with hope, and backward 
 with resignation. 
 
 But, alas ! an arrow was planted in the heart 
 of each, which never ceased to rankle, and which 
 was rendered still more acute, because each felt 
 it a duty to conceal the fears and feelings which 
 now agitated them from the other. Continually 
 did Donj Manuel repeat, that " he believed his 
 poor boy was long since dead ;" and he would 
 argue on the utter improbability that a child of 
 his age and sensibility, brought up with so much 
 tenderness, could long survive the terror he ex- 
 perienced, when torn from his home and parents, 
 and the hardships which naturally followed. In 
 tracing his fate he uniformly spoke well of the 
 Indians, and doubted not their kindness ; but he 
 maintained that Manuel could not live on the 
 food they used, or endure the exercise they prac- 
 tised. But even while the anxious husband 
 thus sought to alleviate the sufferings of his 
 wife, his mind (at variance with his tongue) was 
 employed in devising a thousand means for far- 
 ther search after the child he pronouuced dead ;
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 131 
 
 and if he could have formed any idea whither to 
 direct his steps, he would, like the Indians, have 
 opened the grave, to have convinced himself that 
 those precious remains were indeed returning to 
 their native dust, and that the hand of violence 
 had not precipitated them thither. 
 
 Sensible that her husband had done his utmost 
 to discover their son, and believing that he was 
 indeed satisfied that Manuel was dead, the un- 
 happy mother brooded in silence on the subject; 
 again the colour on her cheek became paler, and 
 the strength she had in a measure regained was 
 declining, when those circumstances occurred 
 which furnish the subject of our concluding 
 chapter.
 
 1S2 THE STOLEN BOY, 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Mr. Osborne, fully satisfied that his new guest 
 and protege was indeed all that he pretended to 
 be, became every day more interested in his wel- 
 fare. To those who suggested the idea that the 
 stolen boy was an impostor, and not the son of 
 Don Manuel, he had uniformly answered, " There 
 is no imposition in his desolate condition ; every 
 body may see that he is starved to death, and 
 therefore it is my duty to relieve him first, and 
 examine his character afterwards." 
 
 This judgment of the case was both just and 
 benevolent ; but all my young readers will be 
 aware, that when this kind-hearted man was 
 convinced that the unfortunate boy had told him 
 no lies, nor affected to move his compassion, 
 and awake his admiration, by any false account 
 of his past sufferings and former situation, he 
 felt for his misfortunes a double pity, and for 
 his character a sincere respect ; since, young as 
 he was, he had evinced high and estimable qua- 
 lities. He had shewn a strong and enduring 
 affection to his parents, a reliance on Almighty
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 133 
 
 goodness, an abhorrence of all cruelty, and a 
 firmness of endurance, seldom exhibited ; and 
 therefore, had that in his character which pro- 
 mised still more, when his education could be 
 formed, and his morals attended to. Often would 
 Mr. Osborne point out these qualities to his son 
 Henry, as worthy of the highest praise, even 
 whilst he lamented the circumstances in which 
 the stolen boy now stood, as being ignorant on 
 many points, well known to children much 
 younger than himself. 
 
 When Mr. Osborne had ascertained that Don 
 Manuel del Perez was indeed at Savannah, and 
 had made up his mind to take Manuel thither, 
 he had a dress made for him as much like that 
 which he described as being worn by him when 
 stolen, as the tailors of Nachitoches could ma- 
 nage ; and in this dress, so soon as it was deemed 
 prudent for him to go out, he took him, in the 
 first place, to the house of God. Often as the 
 feelings of devotion had been strongly excited 
 before, in this singularly-situated boy, never had 
 they risen so highly to the great Source of good 
 as on the present occasion. Though every eye 
 was turned on him (for, alas ! human nature is 
 easily drawn from its duty), his eye was on no
 
 134 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 one ; he looked only to that God whom he con- 
 ceived to be more especially looking upon him 
 from heaven, in this place, and claiming his 
 gratitude, his promised obedience for the future, 
 and his faith in the doctrines to be revealed by 
 the preacher. He thought this the day when 
 his emancipation was completed, his restoration 
 ensured ; and it was observed by all around, 
 that although he scarcely uttered a word, even 
 after he had returned from the church, yet that 
 his countenance was expressive of the purest 
 and serenest pleasure ; yet tears frequently filled 
 his eyes, and there were moments when he 
 pressed his hand upon his heart, as if to repress 
 the violence of its throbbing. 
 
 He still remained extremely thin in his per- 
 son ; but his sunken cheeks began to resume 
 the plumpness and smoothness of young flesh, 
 and the colour of his skin resumed its original 
 olive cast ; whereas, on his arrival, it was nearly 
 black, from constant exposure to the sun, in 
 addition to starving, which has always a ten- 
 dency to darken the complexion. As soon as 
 he could crawl out, and use the most trif^iiig 
 exertion, he had gone to visit his horse ; and it 
 was curious, and even affecting, to see the joyful
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 135 
 
 recognition of his young master exhibited by the 
 poor animal. After he visited him, Antonio fed 
 better, and gained good looks much faster than 
 before ; and therefore Mr. Osborne never inter- 
 fered to prevent him from performing the offices 
 of a groom, so far as he had strength for it, to a 
 creature so well meriting all his kindness ; but 
 he nevertheless lost no opportunity of impress- 
 ing on his mind the necessity there existed that 
 he should now turn his thoughts to totally dif- 
 ferent pursuits, and seek very distinct accom- 
 plishments from those to which he had been so 
 long accustomed. 
 
 Happy was it for him, that the little book 
 found in poor Diego's pocket had been so long 
 cherished, seeing it had preserved to him the 
 power of reading ; the faculty of writing was 
 entirely lost ; but even in his present weak state, 
 he made considerable progress, under the tuition 
 of Henry Osborne, in regaining it — " for the 
 purpose,*' as he said, " of writing to his sister," 
 when he could find any person to carry the 
 letter. Mr. Osborne informed him of the means 
 by which letters were conveyed in organized 
 society, and many other circumstances in com- 
 mon life, as; we enjoy it, which seemed entirely 
 
 M 2
 
 136 THE^STOLEN BOY. 
 
 eradicated from his memory, and which excited 
 his wonder and delight. It was yet found that 
 some particular scenes and circumstances were 
 impressed on his mind so vividly, that they might 
 be said to be painted there indelibly, and were : 
 described by him in language sometimes un- 
 couth, but always striking and accurate, uttered 
 with grace and energy. He remembered the 
 ship in which he had sailed from Europe, the 
 garden of his father's house, at San Antonio, 
 when filled by gay company on his birthday ; ] 
 and particularly his mother's dress, on which 
 he dwelt with that fond enthusiasm which ac- 
 companied all his feelings for her and his father. 
 He was also fond of her maid, who had accom- 
 panied him from Europe, but he could recollect 
 the name of no other servant ; nor had he any 
 remembrance of his former friends, his usual 
 playmates, occupations, or books. It appeared 
 as if some things were completely eradicated 
 from the tablets of memory, that others might 
 be engraven there the deeper. 
 
 With respect to all later transactions, his re- 
 collection was so vivid, that in recounting the 
 circumstances of his long and melancholy jour- 
 ney, which had lasted thirteen days (if the last "
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 137 
 
 is included), he appeared to live it over again, 
 with all its fears in the first part, and its suffer- 
 ings in the latter. The circumstance of finding 
 an empty village did not surprise Mr. Osborne 
 in the least, as there are times when the inhabit- 
 ants of each settlement go out in a body to the 
 woods, or the harvest ; but he did not the less 
 feel for the poor disappointed boy, and thought 
 it a wonder that he did not there end the hard- 
 ships of his long wanderings. It is probable 
 that the circumstance of being near the end of 
 his labours, sustained him for the last three 
 days ; but it was the opinion of his friends, that 
 he could not have lived through another night, 
 at the time when he reached Nachitoches. 
 
 In recounting the history of his residence, he 
 necessarily mentioned the extraordinary circum- 
 stance of seeing a man in the woods, whom, 
 with the quick discernment of an Indian eye, he 
 had pronounced civilized, an opinion confirmed 
 by several of the Cumanches. On hearing this, 
 that gentleman immediately exclaimed, — "I 
 have no doubt but the person you saw was my 
 worthy friend, Audaubon ; he is an artist of great 
 merit, who has de\.oted himself to the study of 
 birds ; and in pursuit of his object, with all the 
 
 M 3
 
 13B THE STOLEK BoY. 
 
 enthusiasm of genius, penetrates the deepest 
 forests, encounters dangers of every kind, and 
 sacrifices every personal comfort— yes, you have 
 seen Audaubon, undoubtedly, and I wish he had 
 seen you." 
 
 The time came, at length, when it was con- 
 venient for Mr. Osborne to set out ; and as he 
 preferred going by water, for the way by land 
 was full of Indians, many of whom were of the 
 worst description, he looked out for a vessel 
 about to fall down to the Mississippi, from 
 whence he knew he could proceed without dif- 
 ficulty. 
 
 Whilst making his bargain, he was accosted 
 by one of those persons who had returned from 
 their expedition up the Red River, desiring to 
 know, " if a report he had just heard were true, 
 that a boy was under his care, who had come 
 from a Cumanche settlement, and of whom Tus- 
 tanuggi, a chief of that nation, was in search ?'* 
 
 Mr. Osborne answered, that he had seen such 
 a boy certainly, but was too busy to talk on the 
 matter at present ; and on leaving the man, he 
 hastened home, and in the course of an hour, 
 himself, Manuel, the horse, > and his own son, 
 were on board. He had already promised the
 
 ITHE STOLEN BOY. 139 
 
 ktter this journey, as a high treat ; and as he 
 expected to do business at Savannah, he wished, 
 in some measure, to initiate his son, and intro- 
 duce him to their future correspondents. 
 
 The voyage was found highly beneficial to the 
 health of Manuel, so that he throve much better 
 than he had done on land ; and when they 
 reached the shores of Georgia, his figure was 
 that of a tall, handsome lad, above the usual 
 height for his age, and singularly muscular and 
 agile. The bad condition of his hair, which had 
 been formerly shaven on the sides, and left thick 
 in the middle, was hidden by his cap ; and his 
 open countenance, quick eye, and changing co- 
 lour, gave an expression of sensibility and ani- 
 mation, which interested all who saw him. It 
 was yet certain that it was his kind attention to 
 Henry, who had been very ill during the voyage, 
 and who was leaning upon his arm, that, more 
 than his personal appearance, struck those who 
 saw them land, several of whom remarked, that 
 they would answer for it the taller of those boys 
 was of a good disposition ; and "he is exceed- 
 ingly like a gentleman, I know," said one of 
 them. 
 
 " Do you know Don Manuel del Perez ?'*
 
 HO THE StOLEN BOY, 
 
 said Mr. Osborne, somewhat quickly : " can you 
 tell me where he lives ?" 
 
 " I can," said the gentleman ; " his house 
 lies to the left, among these lime-trees ; you 
 may see a part of the verandah here ; but you 
 will not see him to-day ; it is a day of mourn- 
 ing in his family." 
 
 Mr. Osborne, as it was still early, did not 
 therefore despair, although it was not very ma- 
 terial if he waited for the morrow ; but after 
 landing his luggage, breakfasting at an inn, and 
 arranging his dress, and that -of the boys, he 
 proceeded towards the place of Don Manuel's 
 residence, glad in his own mind, that by con- 
 versation with Manuel, he had renewed his 
 knowledge of the Spanish language, yet feeling 
 at a loss how to find words for the approaching 
 occasion. 
 
 He found the dwelling situated in a beautiful 
 pleasure-ground, indicating the residence of a 
 man of wealth, and surrounded with those ele- 
 gancies and conveniencies so desirable in warm 
 countries. Directing the boys to seat them- 
 selves under the shade of the verandah, he pro- 
 ceeded to the house, and inquired if Don Ma- 
 nuel were at home, at the same time saying —
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 141 
 
 " I am aware that your master does not in ge- 
 neral see company to-day, but my business is of 
 a very particular nature." 
 
 "It is not to-day, but to-morrow,'' replied the 
 man, at the same time speaking to another ser- 
 vant, who in a short time ushered Mr. Osborne 
 into the room where Don Manuel, his daughter, 
 and wife, were sitting ; but the latter, on his 
 entrance, rose to depart. 
 
 " Pardon me, madam," said Mr, Osborne, 
 with great respect, but considerable emotion, 
 " if I request you to remain ; my business is of 
 such a nature, that if Don Manuel had not been 
 within, it would have been my duty to have 
 seen you upon it." 
 
 " Me, sir ! I am to ill to be spoken with." 
 
 *' Pardon me ! a mother can endure much, 
 when the subject is her child — when she is 
 seeking even a painful conviction on a dubious 
 point." 
 
 Donna Seraphina sank into her chair, pale 
 as ashes, but utterly unable to speak ; whilst 
 Don Manuel, eagerly rising, exclaimed — " For 
 Heaven's sake ! sir, if you have any news to 
 give us of our poor lost boy, speak quickly — 
 but do not dare to trifle with our feelings ; and
 
 142 THli STOLEN BOY. 
 
 I beseech you, deal delicately with a wife and 
 mother, whose weakness you must perceive." 
 
 "'Sir," said Mr. O sborne, " I am myself a 
 father, and a widowed husband. I can feel for 
 you sincerely, or I should not have come all the 
 way from Nachitoches, to bring you information 
 which was improper to reveal, or unworthy of 
 attention." 
 
 *' Speak on, sir, I beseech you." 
 
 " About two months since, a Spanish boy, 
 escaped from a settlement of the Cumanches, 
 arrived in Nachitoches, after passing through 
 an uninhabited country, about four hundred 
 miles. I need not tell you he was on the point 
 of perishing with hunger, and that it was some 
 time before he could inform us who he was, and 
 how he came in this condition ; but when he 
 could speak, he said, that he was stolen from 
 San Antonio, at the same time with your son 
 and your servant Diego.*' 
 
 *' Does he say Manuel is dead ?" cried the 
 mother. 
 
 " On the contrary, he spoke of him as grow- 
 ing very fast, and being expert at all Indian ex- 
 ercises."
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 143 
 
 " He lives ! he lives !" cried the mother, and 
 instantly sunk fainting on the floor. 
 
 The more immediate attention of Don Ma- 
 nuel was now called to his wife, whom, when 
 she was restored, he now earnestly desired to 
 withdraw ; but she declared — " that since she 
 knew her son was alive, she could bear any 
 thing ;" and she entreated Mr. Osborne to pro- 
 ceed with his narrative. 
 
 "Alas!" observed Don Manuel, "to us it 
 must be painful, even if true ; if these wild 
 people have rendered our child one of them- 
 selves, he is as much lost to us as if the grave 
 had closed on him ; so young — so very young, 
 he could be modelled to any thing ; and if I 
 had the power to compel his return, no doubt 
 he would fly to his old haunts, and render us 
 more wretched than ever." 
 
 " But this boy declares that Manuel pines 
 after his parents, whom he loves most tenderly ; 
 that the cruelty of the Indians was so abhor- 
 rent to his nature, as to disgust him entirely, 
 and induce him, at the utmost risk of life, to 
 return to them. I must not, however, disguise 
 from you, that this boy is thought by many an
 
 144 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 impostor, though I could pledge myself for his 
 truth." 
 
 " Alas ! I fear you are deceived ; for it is 
 certain we should have heard if any such boy 
 had been taken with our own : it is true, our 
 servants believed the tale told by the Indian 
 was false : can this boy account for our son's 
 clothes being sent back to us ?" 
 
 " Very easily : Tustanuggi, who had taken 
 him captive, and, unquestionably, conceived for 
 him a great affection, by this means sought to 
 divert you from pursuit. My informer says, 
 that after he saw Manuel dressed as an In- 
 dian, he never found any vestige of his former 
 clothing." 
 
 " Does he seem to know any thing of 
 Diego ?" 
 
 *' Yes; he speaks of him with great affection, 
 and was with him when he died in the woods, 
 from the bite of a rattlesnake." 
 
 " How strange ! — had he any knowledge of 
 me, or any of my household ?" 
 
 " He kpew you well, for he described you to 
 me exactly ; also your house and garden at San 
 Antonio. He told me also, that on the day 
 when your son completed his ninth year, which
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 145 
 
 is some time in this season, Donna Seraphina 
 wore a lemon-coloured dress, trimmed with 
 white bugles, and a veil most richly embroid- 
 ered." 
 
 " So I did ; the poor boy is right ; undoubt- 
 edly he is no impostor. Our own sorrows ab- 
 sorbed us so much, we knew not of our neigh- 
 bour's loss." 
 
 " We will atone for it now," said Don Ma- 
 nuel ; *' I will take upon me henceforward the 
 fortunes of this poor boy. He shall be restored 
 to his friends at San Antonio, and all his wants 
 provided for." 
 
 " Ah, sir ! let us see this boy instantly. Why 
 — why did he leave my Manuel ? How much 
 must he suffer from the loss of his companion ! 
 If one escaped from the Indians, why could not 
 two ?" 
 
 " This boy obtained a horse of extraordinary 
 qualities, as you shall convince yourself, madam, 
 by and by : but I am anxious fully to convince 
 you that the child I am about to present to you 
 is indeed no impostor. I presume every cir- 
 cumstance of that memorable birth-day is faith- 
 fully registered in your mind ?" 
 
 *' Yes ; indeed I remember them too well." 
 
 N
 
 146 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 " In descending the stairs from your dressing- 
 room, you made a false step, in consequence of 
 which a string of pearls round your neck was 
 broken ; and this boy declares that he tied the 
 beads with his own hands." 
 
 "Mother! mother!" cried the lovely girl, 
 who had hitherto stood in silent astonishment, 
 gazing on Mr. Osborne, " it was Manuel who 
 tied the string, and I gathered the beads. Eu- 
 lalia will remember it, for she was following 
 you down stairs," 
 
 " I remember — I remember all," gasped the 
 trembling mother ; " it is my child — my own 
 first-born child, of whom you speak. May God 
 so deal with you and yours as you have dealt 
 with him ! But where — where is he ?" 
 
 As Donna Seraphina spoke she rose, as if to 
 fly to her long-lost son ; but her trembling 
 limbs refused to sustain her ; and her wild 
 glances conveyed almost the idea that she was 
 seized with sudden madness. At this moment, 
 however, the violence of her emotions was ar- 
 rested, and happily transferred to her husband, 
 Avho burst into a passion of tears, and sobbed 
 aloud. 
 
 Such an uncontrollable transport, in a person
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 147 
 
 of his description, was an event that had the 
 effect of alarming all around him ; for although 
 a man of the deepest feeling, it was so control- 
 led by reason and religion, that any ebullition 
 of passion seemed foreign to his nature. At, 
 this awful and ecstatic moment, however, his 
 joy and gratitude to Heaven agitated him in 
 the same manner as some persons feel the ef- 
 fects of sudden misfortune. He had listened 
 with intense expectation and doubt ; he had 
 perceived, from the manners of the speaker^ 
 that he at least believed Manuel in a state of 
 safety ; but it was not till the affair of the neck- 
 lace was mentioned, that he durst allow his 
 trembling heart to admit the full tide of joy 
 that overwhelmed it. 
 
 Mr. Osborne having (with even female ten^ 
 derness) taken off his neckcloth, suffered his 
 feelings to take their natural vent, happy to »ee 
 that in her momentary alarm for her beloved 
 husband, Donna Seraphina's agitation on her 
 son's account was suspended. When some de- 
 gree of composure was restored, he told them, 
 that if they could now bear the sight of his im- 
 postor, he would bring him in, and submit him 
 to their inspection ; but he added — " I must beg 
 
 K 2
 
 14S THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 you, on his part, to remember, that although, 
 from long habit,, he has attained much self- 
 command, and may not, in the first instance, 
 exhibit that intense afiection or extravagant 
 joy which would be natural in most children, 
 he is yet a boy of acute feeling, and even now 
 in too delicate a state to have it severely ex- 
 ercised." 
 
 With these words Mr. Osborne quitted the 
 apartment, and went out to the place where he 
 had left his son and Manuel ; but, to his great 
 astonishment, found only the former. 
 
 *' Where is Manuel gone to ?" said he, in 
 alarm. 
 
 *' Oh, papa, half an hour since, a woman came 
 into the house, having the air of a person who 
 belonged to it. On seeing us, she gave such a 
 loud scream, (I wonder you did not hear it,) and 
 flung her arms round Manuel, as if she would 
 have hugged him to death. Then there came 
 several servants, some of whom remembered him 
 perfectly well ; and they all joined to carry him 
 away somewhere, and lock him up ; foi they 
 said, if his mother saw him, she would die upon 
 the spot." 
 
 ^^ His father, however, in my opinion, would
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 149 
 
 have been the more likely to do it," said Mr. 
 Osborne ; " but I now trust both are prepared 
 to see him ; so we will follow, and make in- 
 quiries." 
 
 It was found that all the family were assem- 
 bled in the most distant room, where Eulalia 
 and Juan, who, with the unfortunate Diego, 
 had formed their European attendants, were 
 descanting to the rest on all that had passed 
 in their minds on the subject of Manuel's cap- 
 tivity, declaring, in the same moment, " that 
 be was so grown, and so altered, nobody could 
 believe he was their own dear Signor Manuel, 
 and that they could have owned him amongst 
 ten thousand." One moment they bemoaned 
 over him, as the most injured and ill-used of 
 all the human race ; and the next protested 
 " that he looked quite charmingly ; and that 
 after all which could be said, the Indians were 
 very respectable people, and had behaved ex- 
 ceedingly well to him." 
 
 Mr. Osborne broke up this coterie, by entering, 
 and desiring Manuel to accompany him to his 
 parents and sister; for he was not conscious that 
 the latter had followed him, and was at this time 
 
 N 3
 
 150 THE STOLEN BOIf. 
 
 slyly, but fondly, gazing on her brother. He 
 found Manuel standing silently and abstractedly 
 in the midst of the party, looking pale and for- 
 lorn, and by no means wearing the joyous face 
 of one returned from long travel and many hard- 
 ships to his father's mansion. 
 
 " Come, come, my good fellow, your parents 
 are impatient to receive you." 
 
 At this moment Manuel darted through the 
 crowd, and throwing himself on Mr. Osborne's 
 bosom, he cried long and bitterly. 
 
 " Why, how is this?" said his kind benefactor : 
 " surely these are tears of joy ; yet they seem 
 like those of sorrow." 
 
 " Oh, sir!" said the poor boy, at length raising 
 his head, "you have been so long — so very long, 
 in persuading my parents to receive me, that 
 never since the day when I was taken from 
 them, did I suffer so much as I have done in 
 the last hour. I am sure that Tustanuggi and 
 Moscogi would receive me more speedily than 
 they have done. Perhaps they think me that 
 thing some of the people of Nachitoches called 
 me?" 
 
 Mr. Osborne hastened to assure him it was 
 rather on account of his own fears that they
 
 THE STOLEN BoY. 1.61 
 
 would be injured by their overwhelming joy, 
 than any doubt on the part of his parents which 
 had occasioned the delay ; and when he assured 
 him that even then his father was weeping with 
 delight, the boy exclaimed with transport — 
 " Ah ! then I am sure he loves me yet, for he is 
 as little likely to weep as a red warrior." 
 
 To poor Mr. Osborne it was a mortification to 
 usher his 'proUgi into the presence of his parents 
 with red eyes and disordered hair ; but the re- 
 cognition of the servants had effectually paved 
 the way for that of the parents. Indeed, the 
 likeness of the father in Manuel's person was 
 only rendered the more striking, from the recent 
 agitation both had experienced ; and not a sha- 
 dow could exist in the minds of any person who 
 beheld them, on the subject of the stolen boy's 
 identity. 
 
 How the mother gazed upon him, pressed him 
 to her bosom, traced every lineament of his fea- 
 tures — how, with streaming eyes, she thanked 
 God for this unexpected and inestimable gift, 
 every one will imagine. They will conceive 
 what was the delight of the father, when he 
 found that even in the wilderness, his son had 
 retained a lively sense of affection to him, a de-
 
 152 THE STOLEN liOY. 
 
 gree of observance of the rites of his religion, 
 and a deep feeling of humanity. Nor can any 
 one doubt the unbounded gratitude they expe- 
 rienced towards that kind friend, whose hand 
 had been held out " to save him when he was 
 ready to perish." No! often would Donna Sera- 
 phina turn to Mr. Osborne and declare, " that 
 never man had shewn such sympathy in another's 
 feelings as he had done, and that but for him, 
 she never could have sustained the joy wdth 
 which her spirit was loaded." 
 
 As all parties by degrees became more com- 
 posed, Mr. Osborne begged to know, " if the fol- 
 lowing day, which he understood was consecrated 
 to mourning in the family, had any thing to do 
 with Manuel's return ?" 
 
 " Every thing," said Don Manuel, " for this 
 is his birthday — he is now twelve years old; and 
 to-morrow, the day on which he was torn from 
 us three years ago. We will now hold it as a 
 day of solemn thanks and rejoicings ; the poor 
 shall be comforted — the hungry fed." 
 
 Manuel turned his eyes full upon Henry, who 
 was a fair handsome boy of pleasant countenance, 
 but who had not hitherto obtained due attention. 
 — " My dear child, I read your wishes — ^be as-
 
 THE STOLEN BOY. 153 
 
 sured I can fully estimate our boundless obliga- 
 tion to Mr. Osborne, and your friendship for his 
 son — these are matters for a future considera- 
 tion : but if there is any kind of present you 
 wish either to receive, or to give, on this event- 
 ful day, speak your wishes — they are not likely 
 to be refused." 
 
 Manuel looked for some time very thoughtful, 
 and then said — " I wish you, father, to send for 
 Antonio, and let him be taken very good care 
 of; indeed, I shall be very glad to attend to him 
 myself — he was my friend when I had none be- 
 side in the wide, wide world." 
 
 "'• Be he who he may, he shall share my house, 
 and my table, whilst I have one." 
 
 "It is my horse, father, that I mean ; not in- 
 deed that he is mine, but I was forced to take 
 him." 
 
 "Be assured he will be no small favourite here 
 — is there any thing else in your mind ?" 
 
 *' Yes, when Mr. Osborne returns, I wish to 
 send blankets, a gun and powder to Tusta- 
 nuggi, and several useful things to Moscogi, and 
 little Scrogonori. 1 think I shall be much 
 happier when I have sent these things, not 
 merely as payment for the horse, but because
 
 154 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 it will shew that I can forgive what is past, and 
 remember them all with good will ; and I will 
 also send Uswega a knife, in token that I have 
 forgiven him also, although he is an unfeeling 
 boy." 
 
 How many questions arose as to the respective 
 merits of these parties — how many tears were 
 shed over circumstances on which Manuel slightly 
 touched — we must leave to the imagination of 
 our readers. It is certain, however, that Mr. 
 Osborne's description of the state in which he 
 found Manuel, though much softened, was the 
 most affecting of any thing that was offered to 
 his hearers. 
 
 Happy was Don Manuel to find that it was in 
 his power, as a man of large property and con- 
 nection, greatly to assist this gentleman in his 
 commercial views, and render his voyage as 
 prosperous as it was considerate and benevolent. 
 To his son Henry he offered a home in his 
 house, that he might finish his education under 
 the eye of a clever tutor, whom he procured for 
 Manuel — an arrangement equally delightful to 
 the son, and satisfactory to the father ; and it 
 was unquestionably of the greatest utility to
 
 THE STOLETs' BOY. 155 
 
 Manuel, whose studies were rendered more 
 agreeable by]^so dear a companion. 
 
 It is now between eight and nine years since 
 Manuel entered Nachitoches, in the deplorable 
 condition we have related, and therefore he is 
 by this time a young man of two or three and 
 twenty ; and we sincerely hope is now, by his 
 good conduct, rewarding his parents for their 
 care and anxiety, and proving that the life so 
 wonderfully preserved, was spared to good pur- 
 pose. We shall only observe further, that when 
 Mr. Osborne took leave of Don Manuel's family 
 on his return to Nachitoches, he was loaded 
 with marks of the gratitude he had so justly 
 excited, and was the bearer of a present to Tus- 
 tanuggi, which he sent up the Red River the 
 following season. It consisted of every thing 
 which could contribute to the comfort of an 
 Indian wigwam, more especially in those articles 
 calculated for female use ; for so thankful was 
 Donna Seraphina to the people who had caused 
 her so much misery, because they had not ren- 
 dered it more complete by destroying her son, 
 that she thought she could not reward them 
 sufficiently. Happily her health returned with 
 her peace of mind ; and being a woman of
 
 156 THE STOLEN BOY. 
 
 highly-cultivated mind, she applied herself dili- 
 gently to assisting her son's education ; and 
 left no means untried to strengthen the princi- 
 ples, enlighten the understanding, and confirm 
 the affections of her long-lost stolen boy. 
 
 THE END.
 
 HOFLAND LIBRAEY 
 
 FOR 
 
 THE INSTRUCTION 
 
 AND 
 
 AMUSEMENT OF YOUTH. 
 
 ILLUSTitATED WITH PLATES. 
 
 Each volume handsomely bound in embossed scarlet cloth, 
 with gilt edges, &fc. 
 
 PUBLISHED (BY ASSIGNMENT OF A. K. NEWMAN & CO.) BT 
 
 AETHUE HALL, VIETUE, AND CO. 
 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 First Class, in 12mo 
 
 1. Alfred Campbell ; or, 
 
 Travels of a Young 
 Pilgrim. 
 
 2. Decision ; a Tale. 
 
 3. Energy. 
 
 4. Farewell Tales. 
 
 5. Fortitude. 
 
 6. Humility. 
 
 7. Integrity. 
 
 Price 2s. 6d. 
 
 Moderation. 
 
 Patience. 
 
 Reflection. 
 
 Self Denial. 
 
 Young Cadet ; or Tra- 
 vels in Hindostan. 
 
 Young Pilgrim ; or, 
 Alfred Campbell's re- 
 turn.
 
 THE HOFLANU LIBRARY, 
 
 Second Class, in ISmo. Price Is. 6d. 
 
 1. Adelaide; or, Massacre j 9. 
 
 of St. Bartholomew. j 10. 
 
 2. Affecttonate Bro- i 
 
 THERS. 11. 
 
 3. Alicia AND HER Aunt; 
 
 or. Think before you 
 Speak. 12. 
 
 4. Barbadoes Girl. 
 
 5. Blind Farmer AND HIS 13. 
 
 Children. 
 
 6. Clergyman's Widow 14. 
 
 AND her Young Fa- 
 mily. 15. 
 
 7. Daughter - in - Law, 
 
 HER Father and Fa- 16. 
 
 MILY. 
 
 8. Elizabeth and her 17. 
 
 THREE Beggar Boys. 
 
 Godmother's Tales. 
 
 Good Grandmother 
 AND HER Offspring. 
 
 Merchant's Widow 
 AND HER Young Fa- 
 mily. 
 
 Rich Boys and Poor 
 Boys, and Other Tales. 
 
 The Sisters ; a Do- 
 mestic Tale. 
 
 Stolen Boy ; an In- 
 dian Tale. 
 
 William and his Un- 
 cle Ben. 
 
 Young Northern 
 Traveller. 
 
 Young Crusoe ; or, 
 Shipwrecked Boy. 
 
 J. BILLING, PRINTER, WOKING.
 
 Jan. 1859. 
 
 % Ciitnlaffiie 
 
 INSTRUCTIVE AND AMUSING 
 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 INCLUDING THOSE 
 
 FORMERLY PUBLISHED BY CLARKE & CO. 
 
 (LATE DAR.TON & HARVEY.) 
 
 LONDON : 
 AP.THUPx. HALL, VIRTUE, & CO. 
 
 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 Menzies, Edinburrfh.] [McGlashan, Dublin. 
 
 No. 8.
 
 This da)', in 18mo. cloth gilt, price 3*. 
 
 FALSE APPEARANCES. 
 
 By MRS. MACKAY. 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE "FAMILY AT HEATHERDALE." 
 
 '@
 
 @^- 
 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 ACKWORTH VOCABULARY, 
 
 or English Spelling- Book; with the Meaning attached to each 
 Word."^ Compiled for the use of Ackworth School. New Edition, 
 18mo. cloth lettered. Price Is. Gd. 
 
 ART OF CHESS-PLAY.— A NEW TREATISE 
 
 ON THE GAME OF CHESS. By George Walkek, Esq. 
 Ninth Edition, 12mo. cloth lettered, reduced to 2s Qd. 
 
 BARBAULD'S (Mrs.) LEMONS POUR DES 
 
 ENFANS, depuisl'age de Deux Ans jusqu'a Cinq. Avec une 
 Interpretation Anglaise. New Edition. 18mo. cloth lettered. 
 Price 2s. 
 
 BIRDS AND ANIMALS. 
 
 The Conversations of Little Henry and his Mother, &c. By 
 E. E. WiLLEMENT. With Cuts. Fcap. cloth, 2*. 
 
 BOY (the) and the BIRDS. 
 
 By Emily Taylor. "With Sixteen fine Woodcuts, from Land- 
 seer's Designs. ICmo. gilt edges. Price 2^. fx;'. 
 " A delightful book for children. The birds tell of their habits to a little in- 
 quiring boy, «ho uoes peeping into their nests and watchins their dome's, and a 
 very pleasant way they have of talking, sure to engage the youni; reader's atten- 
 tion. The designs are pretty, and nicely cut on wood." — Spectator. 
 
 CANADIAN CRUSOES ; 
 
 a Tale of the Rice Lake Plains. By Mrs. Traill, (late 
 Catharine Parr Strickland,) Authoress of "The Backwoods of 
 Canada," &c. In foolscap, with numerous Engravings. New 
 and Clieaper Edition, in foolscap, cloth, gilt edges. Price 5s. 
 Edited by Agnes Strickland. lUustiated by Harvey. 
 " This is an extrennely pleasing and not very imi)robaMe fiction. The object 
 of the writir has been to inculcate the virtues "of energy iv.id sell'-reliance under 
 circumstances of ditficulty and danger. The book is exceeainsly well calculated 
 for children, to whom its interesting contents, its handsome appearance, aiid 
 beautiful illustrations will render it an acceptable present." — Tait't Magazine, 
 Sept. 1852. 
 
 " .\ very deli2htf\il book for young readers. The interest is deep and well 
 sustained, the style uniformly agreeable and lively ; and the kn )wledi;e of the 
 writer, who has lived for some time on the iiice'Lake PUins, tl^e scene of the 
 story, adds a value to the book for readers of all ages. Mr. Harvey has con- 
 tributed some excellent woodcuts, and the book is altogether a pretty and in- 
 teresting one."— Guardian. 
 
 xr^^m,,,, 1. n^ ci~ T)
 
 INSTRUCTIVE AND AMUSING 
 
 CHEMISTRY NO MYSTERY ; 
 
 being the Subject ■Matter of a Course of Lectures by Dr. Scoffern* 
 illustrated with Diagrams and Vv'oodcuts. Second Edition, 
 revised and corrected, with Index, price 3s. 6d. cloth lettered. 
 
 " A very i;s;rpenb1e account of some of thn IpacHn? facts .ind principlt's of 
 Chemistry, not only made plain to tliemeanrst capacity, but ;;ttractive, we should 
 imaeine, to the most idle youth, and amusing to all." — Sjrectalor. i 
 
 "This wnik contains quite as much information as is rpquisite for any person 
 «ho does not intend to make Chemistry a professional or hobby-liorsical pursuit. 
 The various information is conveyed in a clear and distinct manner, so that the 
 dullest child can hardly fail to understand what it means." We recommend every 
 father to purchase this work for his cliildren, unless they happen to be particularly 
 stui)i(l. It does much credit to Mr. Scofferi'., the author : it is very well printed 
 and neatly bound."— Polytechnic Journal. 
 
 COLA MONTI ; 
 
 or, the Stor}^ of a Genius. A Tale for Boys. By the Author of 
 " How to Win Love." With Four Illustrations by Franklin. 
 In foolscap Svo. cloth. Price 3*. 6d. 
 
 " No one possessing common si'nsibility can re.-id this book without a thought- 
 ful brow and aglisteninu eye." — Chambeis' Hdhtbutgh Journal, 
 
 " An exceedingly well-told tale, uhich will intere>t hoys of all ages. * * » 
 As a holiday companion, few books would be more popular." — En^lhh Churchman. 
 
 " A lively narrative of school-boy adventures." 
 
 " A very charming and admirahiy-nritttn volume, ^R « * It is adapted to 
 make boys better." 
 
 " A simple and pleasing story of school-boy life."— /o//n Bull. 
 
 DECOY (the); 
 
 or, ati Agreeal)!e Method of Teaching Children the elementary 
 Parts of English Grammar. Price Is. sev.ed. 
 
 DOCTOR'S LITTLE DAUGHTER. 
 
 The story of a Cliild's Life amidst the Woods and Hills. By 
 Eliza. Metey.\rd. In foolscap Svo. price 7s. 6rf. elegantly 
 bound and gilt, with numerous Illustrations by H.\rvey. 
 
 " This is a very delishtful book, especially calculated for the amusement and 
 instruction of our youna: friends; and is evidently the i roduction of a right- 
 thinking and accomplished mind."— iYiua.'i n/ England Review. 
 
 " An elegant, intercstini;, and unobjectionable present for young ladies. The 
 moral of the book turns on benevolence." — Christian Timrs. 
 
 " This Story of a Child's Life is so full of beauty and meekness, that we can 
 hardly express our sense of its wortli in the words of common praise." — Aon- 
 conformisl. 
 
 " This will be a.'-hoice present for the young." — British Quarterly Review. 
 
 " The whole story is told with a most touching limce, and a ^'olden glow of 
 poetry pervades it. The tine designs of Harvey which illustrate the book, add 
 greatly to its attractiveness, and we cannot entertain a ilouht of its becoming one 
 of the most popular volumes in the ' Children's Library.' " — Klisa CooVt Journal, 
 
 EARTH (the) AND ITS INHABITANTS. 
 
 By Margaret E. Darton. Crown Svo. cloth, with coloured 
 Frontispiece. Price 5s, 
 
 or It.
 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 EDGEWORTPl'S EARLY LESSONS. 
 
 Ne^v and clieaper Edition, fcap. cloth, 3s. 6(1. or in Four Pocket 
 Volumes, price 10.v. 
 
 ENGLISH STORIES of the OLDEN TIME. 
 
 By Maria Hack. A New Edition. Witli Vignettes by 
 Harvev. [Inpreparaiion. 
 
 " A popular History of Enaland, from Alfred to Elizabeth, adapted to the 
 capacities of young persons. The matter is unexceptionable, .and embodies a good 
 deal of information, valuable and interesting to juvenile readers, with a dispas- 
 sionate ar.d ju-t estimate of the characters of the persons, and the causes and 
 inttuence of events." — Spectator. 
 
 EVENINGS AT HOME ; 
 
 or, the Juvenile Budget opened. By Dr. Aiken and Mrs. 
 BARBArLD. Sixteenth Edition, revised and ne\Y]y arranged by 
 Arthuii Aiken, Esq. and Miss Aiken. Vrith Engravings by 
 Harvey. Fcap. 8vo. Price 3*. Gd. cloth. 
 
 LOVE, A REALITY, NOT ROMANCE. 
 
 In fcap. Cuts by Gilbert. Price Is. 6d. cloth; or 2s. 6d. 
 handsomely bound, with gilt edges. 
 
 '* Few writers are more indefati^iable in their otrices of benevolence ttian the 
 authoress of this elegant little volume, who has once more done herself lulinite 
 credit by a transcript of the realities of life, sofiirlyaud truly made, as to go home 
 to the heart of every one wliofoUuns the tale to the conclusion. It is a hish giit 
 to be able to write well ; but it is a f;;r higherand nobler privilege to be known to 
 write usefully, and to the best of purposes ; and this Mrs. Geldart has nevermore 
 eireetually done than in ' Love, a Reality, not a Romance.'" — Ueii's Ulc'sseiiger, 
 
 MAY DUNDAS. Fcap. cloth. Price 2*. 6rf. 
 EMILIE, THE PEACE-MAKER. Fcap. cloth. Price 2s. 6d. 
 STORIES OF SCOTLAND. Fcap. cloth. Price 25. Crf. 
 THOUGHTS OF HOME. Fcap. cloth. Price 26-. 6d. 
 TRUTH IS EVERYTHING. Third Edition. Ibmo. cloth. 
 Price Is. 6d. 
 
 GRECIAN STORIES. 
 
 By Maria Hack. With Thirty-eight fine Illustrations by 
 Gilbert, engraved by Wright and Folkarr. New Edition. 
 
 [[}i preparation. 
 
 " These historical narratives are composed on the popular plan of the enter- 
 tiiiuiu;? and instructive stories of the authoress, relating to Eii^'land. They 
 will be valuable, especially to the non-classical, as an accurate picture of 
 tircece, its annals, and its great nwn." — Tail'i Ma^axhie
 
 INSTRUCTIVE AND AMUSING 
 
 OF THE MISSIONARY 
 
 ENTERrRISE; or, Sketches of Prominent Female Mission 
 aries. By Daniel C. Eddy. With Preface by the Rev. John 
 Gumming, D.D. Third Edition, in fcap. Svo. Price Is. 5d. cloth, 
 or 25. 6d. fjilt edges. 
 
 " Tliis is abook for the many, and cannot fail to tie a sreat favnurite, especially 
 with the sex whose virtues and labours it ri'cords." — British Banner. 
 
 HOWITT.— A BOY'S ADVENTURES IN THE 
 
 WILDS OF AUSTRALIA; or, Herbert's Note Book. By 
 William Howitt. With Designs by Harvey. New and 
 Cheaper Edition, price 2s. bds. ; or 'is. cloth gilt. 
 
 " It is really the next thins to a personal pilgrimajc through the Golden 
 Land. In vivid portraiture ot thing's as they are, it far excels every publication 
 that has yet reached us from .Australia."— BmViVi Banni'r. 
 
 •'All the boys in England, whether ' old boys ' or young ones, will rejoice in 
 this fascinating bool<, full of anecdote and wild adventure ; sober as we are and 
 little siiven to roam, it has inspired us with a strong desire to take a journey in 
 the Bush, if we could see the end of it. The descriptions ol the scenery, the 
 trees, and the animalii are extremely spirited and sr-iphic, — they have all the 
 appoarance of being written on the spot, and are redolent of the fresh open air. 
 We have very seldom read a book of travels that has charmed us so mucli, and 
 we shall consider tliat the young folks who lind it hanging on the bough of their 
 'Christmas tree' are extremely fortunate." -AlheiKPum. 
 
 "As mixht be expected, they will find not only interesting and amusin-.' 
 incidents and descriptions, but a Kood deal of useful informat.on on the ^ubject 
 of Australian life, among the natives as well as among emigrants There are 
 several woodcuts illusfraiing some of the most striking scenes, and the book will 
 take a high rank among Christmas and New Year presents." — Kitgli^h Chmchinav. 
 
 " This is a capital book, and will commend itself alike to young and old. 
 It is full of humour, adventure, excitement, and those incidents of peril and 
 pleasure which seem indigenous to Australia. The gold-diggings, busu-rangers 
 and bush-tires— flood>, robbers, and hunting 'scapes — all contribute tht»ir quota 
 to this interesting book. It is emphatically a boy's book, and w ill be a very 
 acceptable Christmas-gift."— C/nirc/i and SUiie Gase'tie. 
 
 " This book was written in the midst of the scenes it describes, and has the 
 reality «nd vividness of actual experience and adventure. In the form of a boy's 
 journal, it pictures Australian scenes, and records the incidents of travel in the 
 bush. The natural history of the bush is very instructively and anr.isingly woven 
 into the story Let us then commend it, to buys espe"i.illy, as decidedly first- 
 rate— one of the best book sever furnished for their gratification." — i\'iiiconoriiust. 
 
 HOW TO WIN LOVE ; 
 
 or, Rhoda's Lesson. A Story Book for the Young. By the 
 Author of "Michael the Miner," "Cola Monti," &c. With 
 Illustrations on Steel. Second Edition, in square IGmo. hand- 
 somely bound in cloth. Price 2*-. 6rf. with gilt edges. 
 
 " .\ very captivating story." — Morniii-: I'nsl. 
 
 " Truthfulness, dtscriptive tiilent, and pure morality in every line." — Literary 
 Gazelle. 
 " Just what A gtory for children ought to be." — Dnvirlas Jtrrold' t Sewspaprr. 
 
 LADY MARY AND HER NURSE; or, a 
 
 PEEP INTO THE CANADIAN FOREST. By Mrs. Traill, 
 Author of " Canadian Crusoes." Illustrated by Harvi.y. Fcap. 
 cloth, 2s. 6</. ; or 3^. Gd. gilt edges. 
 
 !.„-._„_ IT...... TT.,..,™,..,.™ v. /~i^ oe T>.„„,-r>-,
 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 LAWRENCE'S (Miss) STORIES FROM THE 
 OLD AN]) NEW TESTAMENTS. 
 
 New Edition, with Cuts. [In preparation. 
 
 MANUAL OF HERALDRY, | 
 
 Being a concise Description of the several Terms used, and | 
 
 containing a Dictionary of ever>' Designation in the Science. j 
 
 Illustrated by 400 Engravings on Wood. New Edition, in fcap. j. 
 
 8vo. Price 3i\ in emblematic cover. i 
 
 MANUAL OF PERSPECTIVE. i 
 
 Illustrated by numerous Engravings. By N. Whittock. 
 Price Is. 6d. 
 
 MANUAL OF GEOGRAPHY, 
 
 Physical and Political. For the use of Schools and Families, 
 with Questions for Examination. By Edward Farr, Author 
 of " History of England," &c. Price Is. 6d. 
 
 " Though perfectly free from pretension, and proposed only as an assistant to 
 the mother or the teaoher, this little book is one of the best works on general 
 geography that have come tinder our notice for a long time. A careful reading 
 of the more recent works of statists and travellers is apparent in its pages. Tha 
 information is well put together, and ttie se\er;il subjects are profusely 
 illustrated." — Athenwum. 
 
 MY OLD PUPILS. 
 
 With Four Illustrations on Wood. Square 16mo. Price \s. bds. 
 or 2s. &d. handsomely bound in cloth, with gilt edges. 
 
 MY YOUTHFUL COMPANIONS. 
 
 By the same Author, With Steel Frontispiece. 18mo. cloth. 
 Price 6d. 
 
 NAOMI ; 
 
 or, the Last Days of Jerusalem. By Mrs. J. B. Webb. New 
 Edition, with Designs by Gilbert, and View and Plan of Jeru- 
 salem. Fcap. 8vo. cloth lettered. Price 7s. 6<Z. 
 
 " One of the most interesting works we have read for some time. The senti- 
 ments are appropriate, the style is graceful, and the tale is well contiived. * * * 
 We are not, then, surprised at the popularity it has attauied, it deserves it ; 
 and we cordially wish it further success." — Metropolitan. 
 
 " It is in truth an admirable liitle volume, and well worthy of a yet more ex- 
 tensive patronage tli.in it t as already received." — Maidstone Journal. 
 
 " The plot is easy, natural, and well sustained. Ttie narrative is gracefully 
 written . . . Seldom have we read a tale better adapted for its purpose, or more 
 beautifully told." — Monthly Reiiew.
 
 INSTRUCTIVE AND AMUSING 
 NURSERY RHYMES. 
 
 New and Improved Edicion, with Frontispiece. 18rao. cloth, 
 gilt, price Is. 6d. 
 
 ORIGINAL POEMS FOR INFANT MINDS. 
 
 New and Improved Edition, with Frontispiece. In Two Vols. 
 ISmo. cloth, gilt, price l*. 6d. each. 
 
 PHILOSOPHICAL CONVERSATIONS: 
 
 in which are familiarly explained the causes of many daily 
 occurrino; Natural Phenomena. By Frederick C. Bakewell. 
 Third Edition, with Cuts. Fcap. cloth lettered. Price 3s. 6d. 
 
 " We can most confidently recommend the Philosopliical Conversations to 
 heads of families, as a work at once lilghly amusing and instructive." — Dirmitig- 
 ham Journal. 
 
 " We linve seldom, if ever, met with so much instruction on curious and philo- 
 sophical subjects conveyed in a form so clear, to ontertainin;;, and so perfectly 
 fri'S from the pedantry or affectation of learned technicalities. We shall be sur- 
 prised if this work does not speedily become the favourite nidimental manual of 
 Natural Philosophy in public seminaries and in private tuition." — Bath IleralJ. 
 
 " This is a very pleasing and lucid work, well a<lapted to allure young people 
 to the study of Natural Philosophy." — Let'd* Meieury. 
 
 " We have perused this volume with much pleasure and improvement. It is a 
 work we can confidently recommend, especially to the heads of families, as from 
 the subjects selected, and the familiar style in which they are treated, it cannot 
 fdil of proving both instructive and amusing." — Cambrulge Chronicle. 
 
 PICTORIAL FRENCH & ENGLISH PRIMER, i 
 
 With nearly One Hundred Engravings on Wood. New Edition. \ 
 
 [In preparation. 
 
 PICTORIAL SPELLING BOOK ; 
 
 or. Lessons on Facts and Objects. With 130 Graphic Illustra- 
 tions. Fifth Edition. Price 1*. in cloth. 
 
 PIPPIE'S WARNING ; 
 
 or, the Adventures of a Dancing Dog. By CiTHAniNE Crowe, 
 Author of "Susan lln;)ley," &c. With Cuts. Price l«.bds.; 
 or 2a-. Gd. gilt edges. 
 
 PLEASANT PASTIME; 
 
 or, Drawing-Room Dramas for Private Representation by tlie 
 Young. With Cuts. Price Is. bds. ; or 2s. 6d. with gilt edges.
 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF MRS. ANDERSON'S 
 
 SCHOOL. A Book for Girls. By Jane Winnard Hooper, 
 Illustrated by Franklin. Fcap. 8vo. Price 2s. 6d. cloth gilt_ 
 
 "A pretty unpretentious volume, neatly embellished, anri pay in its livery of 
 (jrcen and }:>>1<1. Outside and in 'tis precisely tiie beau ideal of a prespnlor a 
 prize-b'iok for a young lady. More I'resli and'more dclishtt'ul reading than this 
 book it has rarely been our fortune to nicf t." — Morning Advtntistr. 
 
 •• An amusing series of descriptions likely to interest the young folks for w hcmi 
 they are intended." — Express. 
 
 " Althoui;h profi-ssedly a ' bonk for girli," the volume is so interesting in itself 
 as to be calculated to give amusement to those who have attained a riper au.e ; 
 and, although there is nothing attempt<»d beyond amusement, yet a high moral is 
 conveyed in its pages. One word as to the 'getting up.' The typography is 
 faultless, and the binding and finish sueh as to fit it especially for the place w hich 
 we sincerely hope it will be found largely to occupy — the drawing-room table." — 
 Ufljast Meiciiry. 
 
 " A young lady's experiences of a hoarding school, which are related in a very 
 aniusina and natural manner." — linnlhh Chutchman. 
 
 " This little work is calculated to be exceedingly useful in forming the minds 
 of female chililren. An old frienJ with a new face, and an open and a gay one 
 too." — Bell's Messtn'^er. 
 
 RHYMES FOR THE NURSERY. 
 
 niustrated Edition, in lari^^e type, with Sixteen Fine Cuts by 
 Gilbert. I6mo. cloth, gilt edges. Price 2s. 6rf. 
 
 " The open clear type invites the y.iung reader to learn the story of the nice 
 li tie pictures. Tliese verses for children have never been surp.issed — scarcely 
 i'((ualled mileed — for the happy imion <if fancy and precept, the simplicity anil 
 int-lligibility of the i.leas and words, and the fluency and conciseness "f the 
 rhymes. The Miss Tr.yiors are the best nursery lynsts after all." — Spectator. 
 
 RODWELL'S CHILD'S FIRST STEP TO 
 
 ENGLISH HISTORY. With many Cuts. New Edition, 
 revised by Julia Corner. 16mo. cloth. 2s. Gd. 
 
 ROWBOTHAM'S (J., f.e.s.a.) DERIVATIVE 
 
 SPELLING BOOK, in which the Origin of each Word is given 
 from the Greek, Latin, Saxon, German, Teutonic, Dutch, 
 French, Spanish, and other Languages; with the Parts of 
 Speech, and Pronunciation accented. 12mo. cloth. Price l*. 6d. 
 
 ROWBOTHAM'S GUIDE TO THE FRENCH 
 LANGUAGE AND CONVERSATION; 
 
 consisting of Modern French Dialogues, with the Pronunciation 
 of the most diflicult Words ; for the use of Schools, Travellers, 
 and Private Students. A New Edition, by De La Voye. Demy 
 18mo. Price 2s. 6d. handsomely bound in French morocco. 
 
 SCRIPTURE SITES AND SCENES, 
 
 from actual Survey, in Egypt, Arabia, and Palestine. Illus- 
 trated by Seventeen Steel Engravings, Three Maps, and Thirty- 
 seven Woodcuts. By W. H. Bartlett. Price 4s. post 8vo. 
 cloth, gilt edges.
 
 INSTRUCTIVE AND AMUSING 
 
 SELECT POETRY FOR CHILDREN: 
 
 With brief Explanatorj' Notes, arranged forthe use of Scliools and 
 J^amilies. By Josmi Payne. Tenth Edition, corrected and 
 Enlarged. 18mo. Price 2s. 6d. cloth; or 3*. scarlet, gilt edges, 
 
 " A very nice liule volume, containing a charming^ collection of poetry." — 
 Spectator. 
 
 " We do not know any other book that, in the same compass, contains such a 
 rich selection of piec-es, that are at once sprightly and instructive, patlietic and 
 devout." — Congregational Magazine. 
 
 " A very pleasing and suitable selection." — H'psttminster Revieic. 
 
 " It i-! really a treat t-) see anythin;; so simply good as the little volume before 
 us." — Metropolitan Magazine. 
 
 STUDIES IN ENGLISH POETRY; 
 
 with short Biograpliical Sketches, and Notes explanatory and 
 Critical, intended as a Text-Book for the higher Classes in 
 Schools, and as an Introduction to the Study of English Litera- 
 ture. Bv Joseph Payne. New Edition, enlarged. 
 
 [Shortli/. 
 
 " The plan and the execution are equally good; altogether it is an excellent 
 reading book of poetry." — U'afchniaii. 
 
 " The work is deserving of commendation, as coniprehendins much that is 
 excellent — the very flowers and gems of English poetry— and notRing exception- 
 able."— Tail's Magazine. 
 
 " We can honestly recommend the volume to the favour and confidence of our 
 readers." — F.clcclic Ueriew. 
 
 " Mr. Payne is entitled to the hishe't praise Tir the care bestowed on the 
 antiquated orthography of the earlier authors, and the ability and judgment dis- 
 played in the annexed notes throughout the volume." — i'/ie Studfitt. 
 
 STRATAGEMS. 
 
 By Mrs. Newton Crossland (lateCAMir,r,A Toulmin). With 
 Cuts. Price Is.bds.; or 2*. 6d. gilt edges. 
 
 " .K sweet tale, penned in a fair mood, and such as will make a rare giftfor a 
 child."— 5wn. 
 
 TALES OF MANY LANDS. 
 
 By Miss jr. Frazer Tytler, Author of "Tales of the Great 
 and Brave." Fcap. 8vo. cloth lettered. With Engravings and 
 Woodcut Illustrations. New Edition. [In preparation. 
 
 " Sketches of common life, and (raits of childish character, intermingle<l skil- 
 fully with pictures of foreign scrni-ry ami national characteristics; and pathetic 
 stories, written with talent, anil in a manner to interest youthful readers. Each 
 tale is illustrated by a clever wood engraving." — Spectator. 
 
 WAKEFIELD'S (Priscilla) FAMILY TOUR 
 THROUGH THE BRITISH EMPIRE. 
 
 A New Edition, revised and corrected to the present time. 
 With a Map. 12mo. cloth. Price 6f.
 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 WAKEFIELD'S (Priscilla) JUVENILE 
 
 TRAVELLERS ; a Tour throughout Europe. A Ne^v Edition, 
 corrected to the present time. With a Map. 12mo. cloth. 
 Price 6s. 
 
 WAKEFIELD'S (Priscilla) INSTINCT 
 
 DISPLAYED in the Animal Creation. A New and Revised 
 Edition, with many Additions to the original Work of Priscilla 
 Wakefield. Foolscap 8vo. cloth lettered. New Edition. 
 
 [7n preparation. 
 
 " A nice little work, in the shape of letters between t«o young ladies who are 
 
 I induced to study natural history. The anecdotes are well selected, and told in a 
 
 I simple and unaffected manner, which greatly enhances their value. The object 
 
 i the authoress had in view is humane, and her book ouirht to be in the hands of 
 
 every child from eight to twelve years of age." — Bristol Mercury. 
 
 \ WATTS'S (Dr.) DIVINE and MORAL SONGS 
 
 FOR CHILDREN. With Anecdotes and Reflections, hy the 
 Rev. Ingram Cokbik, M.A. With Frontispiece and Fifty- 
 seven Woodcuts. New Edition. Price Is. in cloth, or 1*. &d. 
 with gilt edges. 
 
 WINTER EVENINGS ; 
 
 or. Tales of Travellers. By IMari.i Hack. A New and 
 Cheaper Edition, with Illustrations by Gilbert. Fcap. cloth. 
 Price 3s. 6u.
 
 INSTRUCTIVE AND AMUSING 
 
 SartnH k 3!3nrHri{'s l^uhlimtinns. 
 
 Price Haif-a-Cropim. 
 
 ALPRED 13UDLEY; or, the Australian Selilers. 
 
 Second Editioa. Vi'ith Nine Illustrations. 16mo, cloth lettered, 
 gilt edges. 
 
 BOY AND THE BIRDS. By Emily Taylor. 
 
 With Sixteen Fine Woodcuts, from Laxdsler's Designs. ICmo. 
 gilt edges. 
 
 CHARLIE'S DISCOA^ERIES; or, a Good Use for 
 
 Eyes and Ears. Witli many Cuts, by T. "Williams. IGuio. 
 cloth, gilt edges. 
 
 CITY SCENES; or, a Peep into London. With 
 
 many Plates. 16ino. cloth lettered. 
 
 FOOTSTEPS TO NATURAL HISTORY. IVith 
 
 Cuts. Square IGnio. gilt edges. 
 
 HYMNS AND SKETCHES IN VERSE. By 
 
 M. F. TvTLF.R. With fine Cuts. IGnio. cloth gilt. 
 
 ©
 
 WORKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 DARTON AND HARVEY'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
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 Mkmoir of the Life and 
 
 6. 
 
 Integrity. 
 
 
 Literary Remains of 
 
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 Mrs. Hofland. By T. 
 
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 Reflectiok. 
 
 
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 in Hindostan. 
 
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 Dr.cisioN; a Tale. 
 
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 4. 
 
 Energy. 
 
 
 Campbell's Return. 
 
 .5. 
 
 Humility. 
 
 
 
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 Adelaide; or, ?klassacre of St. Bartholomew. 
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 Alicia and hf.r Aunt; or, Think hcfore you Speak. 
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 Clergyman's Widov.' and heh Young Family. 
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 Good Grandmother and her Offspring. 
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 William and his Uncle Ben. 
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 This book is DUE on the last 
 date stamped below 
 
 ''■■■ i.i 
 
 M 
 
 ^AR 2 8 mo
 
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 3 1158 00572 4702 
 
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 000 016 892 2