"for it is the first act of kindness shown to me for many years-not that my wife and children have much chance of ever receiving it." "You were speaking about a young European woman when we were in the dungeon," observed Krantz after a pause. "Yes, signor, she was a very beautiful creature. Our commandant was very much in love with her.” "Where is she now?" "She went away to Goa, in company with a priest who knew her. Father Mathias, a good old man; he gave me absolution when he was here." "Father Mathias!" exclaimed Philip; but a touch from Krantz checked him. "You say the commandant loved her!" "Oh, yes; the little man was quite mad about her; and had it not been for the arrival of Father Mathias, he would never have let her go, that I'm sure of, although she was another man's wife." "Sailed for Goa, you said?" "Yes, in a ship which called here. She must have been very glad to have got away, for our little commandant persecuted her all day long, and she evidently was grieving for her husband. Do you know, signors, if her husband is alive?" "No, we do not; we have heard nothing of him." Well, if he is, I hope he will not come here; for should the commandant have him in his power, it would go hard with him. He is a man who sticks at nothing. He is a brave little fellow, that cannot be denied; but to get possession of that lady, he would remove all obstacles, at any risk—and a husband is a very serious one, signors. Well, signors," continued the soldier, after a pause, "I had better not be seen here too long; you may command me if you want any thing; recollect, my name is Pedro-good night to you, and a thousand thanks." And the soldier walked away. "We have made one friend, at all events," said Krantz, "and we have gained information of no little importance." "Most important," replied Philip. "Amine then has sailed for Goa with Father Mathias. I feel that she is safe, and in good hands. He is an excellent man, that Father Mathias-my mind is much relieved." "Yes; but recollect you are in the power of your enemy. We must leave this as quick as we can-to-morrow we must sign the paper. It is of little consequence, as we shall probably be at Goa before it arrives; and even if we are not, the news of your death would not occasion Amine to marry this little withered piece of mortality." "That I feel assured of; but it may cause her great suffering." "Not worse than her present suspense, believe me, Philip; but it is useless canvassing the past-it must be done. I shall sign as Cornelius Richter, our third mate; you, as Jacob Vantreat-recollect that." "Agreed," replied Philip, who then turned away, as if willing to be left to his own thoughts. Krantz perceived it, and laid down under the embrasure, and was soon fast asleep. (To be continued.) MORE LEAVES FROM MR. KEELEY'S JOURNAL. Niagara, Thursday, June 29th.-When one is at a celebrated spot, of course one goes through all the ceremonies of the locality. I should as soon think of going to Cheltenham or Leamington without drinking the waters, or to the sea-side without bathing in the sea, as of quitting Niagara without having passed "behind the great falling sheet of water," as the card (which is handed to you as a certificate of your having performed the feat) expresses it. By the way, while I am on this subject, I may as well ...say that the value of these certificates underwent considerable deterioration in my estimation, when I found they were attainable, upon payment of a dollar, by persons who had not earned the enviable distinction of having" passed behind the sheet," but who remained high and dry on the rock, grinning at the costume of the peril-seeking adventurers, who brave the "peltings of the pitiless" fall. The descent is made on the Canadian side; there is a house of refreshment, and a cabinet of minerals, and rooms wherein you change your own clothes for a suit which can take no harm; the clammy dampness of its lining as it clings to your skin, gives you a foreboding of the sprinkling you have to encounter; though certainly upon this occasion, my anticipations were considerably more than realized. The dress that you don for the exploit, consists of a jacket that buttons up close to the neck, trousers, frieze stockings, and thick shoes; the whole being crowned by a hat such as sailors call a nor'-wester, which has strings to fasten it under your chin, and which completes this highly picturesque costume. In the room in which I made my toilet, was a young fellow from Pitsburg, who, while he was also dressing for the scene, was endeavouring to persuade his father to accompany us. The old boy's reply was rather 'tarnation shrewd. "No, no, Tom," said he, "it's all mighty well for you, but I am old, and have no relish for these sort o' things. After all, it'll only be a thing to talk about, and I ain't got long to stay here to talk about it; so you see, it doesn't pay me for the risk." When we left our room, we found our guides waiting for us, and my wife dressed to accompany us, in a costume that gave her a striking resemblance, in miniature, to those delicate creatures, well known at our watering-places, who live on the sea-side at the back of bathing machines, and half smother gasping children for the good of their healths; varying their employment occasionally, by lugging a full-grown woman into the water and ducking her, and holding her under for such a healthy space of time, that nothing but the repeated gulps of salt water which she swallows every time she opens her mouth, prevents her shrieking out "murder." We started our way lay along a shelf of rock-in many parts not two feet wide, with a fearful abyss below-the wind blew from a quarter which sent the spray upon us thickly: we had a guide to each person, but as we approached the roaring cataract, the sound of the human. voice was lost in its thunder; so that, as well as we could see through the spray which beat in our faces, we had only to obey their telegraphic directions. To give some idea of one's undergoings during the early part of this passage, I must venture on a familiar mode of illustration; for, as according to Sterne, the declaration of the English barber, that you might dip a peruke" in a pail of water," would have been more practicable and available, than the magniloquent assertion of the French friseur, that you might "immerge it in the ocean;" so I cannot better describe my personal endurance than by simply saying, it was that of a shower-bath for three minutes; and this will serve to convey to those who know what a shock of less than half a minute is, a pretty accurate notion of our enjoyment. The annoyance ceased as we passed behind the grand part of the Fall, and found our way by the green light conveyed to us through a watery prism from sixteen to twenty feet thick, for such is the depth of the water that pours itself over this part. of the Falls. I kept my eye on my guide until we reached the end of all further possible progress, and stood on "Termination Rock." Then, for the first time, looking round for my wife, I discovered that neither she nor her guide were with us. In a state of great alarm, I hurried back; and as I emerged from behind the Fall, was much relieved by seeing her in the distance, clambering along the narrow shelf of rock with her guide after her. The shower-bath had been too much for her: after enduring it till she could no longer breathe, she pulled herself from her guide's hand, and explored her way back by herself; thus undergoing considerably more real danger than if she had passed through with us-one slip of her foot and she was gone for ever: they gave her a ticket, however, "To certify that Mrs. Mary Ann Keeley had passed behind the great falling sheet of water to Termination Rock," when in truth they should have written, "That having achieved the only difficult part of the passage with the assistance of a guide, she had returned without one, to show her superiority to all such unnecessary attendance." The usual variety of "sights" are created in the neighbourhood of "The Falls," to relieve the ennui of sated pleasure-seekers: objects are thrust into importance, which, but for their neighbourhood, would have remained quietly in their insignificance; but I suppose it is in sight-seeing as it is in trade; according to the doctrine of the commercial economists, wherever there is a demand there will be a supply so here we have the "Burning Spring," the "Mineral Spring," the "Whirlpool," the "Devil's Hole," &c. &c. &c. In the afternoon we went to the "BURNING SPRING,"-" a stream of sulphuretted hydrogen gas, which quickly ignites on the touch of a candle, and burns with a brilliant flame." Our principal inducement to this visit was, that it took us along the bank of the river above the Falls, where the multitude of little Falls "" or Rapids," as they are called, for nearly a mile above the cataract, seem to urge on the angry waters to their terrific leap. Near the site of the battle of Lundy's Lane, by the village of Drummond's-dale, mingled feelings of curiosity and interest led me into the grave-yard three epitaphs, only, arrested my attention; they were those of military men who had fallen gallantly in their country's service-a colonel and two lieutenants. The memory of the superior officer was preserved on stone; those of the humble subs on woodnow fast decaying. I copied the epitaphs; at this distance of time (indifferent as they may be to the general reader), they may meet the eye of some friend-some relative or some companion of their early days, and awaken a feeling in their hearts that may afford them a melancholy pleasure. In stone, and in good preservation, was this short epitaph : "Colonel Cecil Bisshopp, Died of wounds received at Black Rock." In a remote nook, under a small hillock, covered with wild flowers : "Lieut. Thomas Andrew, 6th regiment, who died in consequence of a wound he received when gallantly leading on his company before Fort Erie. Sept. 17th, 1814. Aged 26." Poor youth! The last memento was but just legible, and was mingling rapidly with the earth it was intended to commemorate: "Sacred to the memory, Wm. Hemphill, Royal Scots, Who bravely fell in the memorable battle of Lundy's Lane, Ah! this is melancholy work; let me turn to something more cheering, and where the interests of humanity are "looking up." June 30th.-About eight miles down the river, and on the other (the American) side, is a settlement of Tuscarora Indians. As these. people are under the care and superintendence of the "American Board for Foreign Missions," a part of them had settled down into trades and farming; I felt curious to see how habits of civilization would sit upon the descendants of the wild hunters of North Carolina, from which State the Tuscaroras came, rather more than a century ago. We took coach, and crossing at the ferry, were driven about three miles along a most villanous up-hill road, until we came within sight of the village and its little chapel, when we alighted. The door of the chapel was on the latch only and inferring from this, that our entrance would not be considered an intrusion, we walked in without ceremony. The benches were of plain deal wood, and all the appointments were on a scale of cleanly but strict economy. Beneath the pulpit was attached an affiche, which contained a few plain directions for the guidance of the people, and their behaviour in chapel hours. I think I have seen congregations of much higher pretensions than these poor simple Indians, which would have been greatly improved and benefited by an attention to the directions for propriety and decorum, which are given in the following 66 RULES "Given by the Chiefs, for the assembling of the Congregation and their behaviour during divine Service. "1st. When the time appointed for public worship is come, let the people enter the church, and take their seats in a decent, grave, and reverent manner. "2d. In the time of public worship, let all the people attend with gravity and reverence, forbearing to read any thing except what the minister is preaching or citing; abstaining from all whisperings, from salutations of persons present or coming in, and from gazing about, sleeping, smiling, and all indecent behaviour." As we left the chapel, I addressed a man whom I saw leaning over a little gate, reading a newspaper in the English language. He was dressed in corduroy trousers, striped waistcoat, and blue coat with metal buttons; he wore a common felt hat, and had suffered his black hair to be shortened and trimmed into the style of "the man civilized;" but his dusky skin, his high cheek-bone, his quick and restless eye, needed no interpreter to explain he was an Indian. "Good day, sir," I said to him; for I had been told that these people had felt themselves annoyed sometimes with the eager curiosity of strangers, so I gave him a 66 sir," and he returned my salutation very courteously. "Good day, sir,-any news?" "No," he said in very fair English. nothing here news for you, dare say. You stranger here?" "Yes," I answered. "What State?" "This is old newspaper "I am not American," I said, "I am an Englishman." English-Hy! hy! hy!--My father told me, that great many years ago, long afore our people come to this place, one of his ancestors was Englishman." "Indeed! then, if that's the case, you and I may turn out to be cousins at a great distance." He seemed to consider this an excellent joke, and laughed very heartily. I saw I was on a good footing with him, and improved it considerably by answering a number of questions which he asked me relative to England, and corroborating many facts about which his reading had made him competent to inquire. "Are you happy here?" I asked. "Yes," he said, in a drawling tone of indifference. "Yes, very well. Hope this year harvest will be good-last year bad; and of course, you know, like all the rest of the world, we feel the pressure of the times." There was something irresistibly ludicrous in hearing a Tuscarora Indian assert with the most business-like air, that he felt "the pressure of the times." The words were at this time a cuckoo-note throughout the Union; it was during the period of the suspension of specie payment by the banks, and almost every man you met was suffering from the "pressure of the times." After a little more friendly conversation, in which my new acquaintance informed me in answer to my question, "Why the village seemed so silent and empty?" that the people had gone to a meeting at the "settlement," about a mile and a half from the village, we parted. As we passed on towards our coach, we saw an Indian woman come from her little cottage into her neat paled-off garden, with a basket of clothes she had been washing. Things that under our noses at home are as familiar as household words, at such a distance and in such a place, from their very similarity are startling: think what an incongruons jumble it must create in the brain, to see an Indian woman of the Tuscarora tribe, dressed in a Manchester cotton print gown, hanging a Spitalfields silk handkerchief, washed with soap of Anglo-American manufacture on a line in her garden. |