" D—^n him !" muttered Chaddock, as he turned away," he reposes on my fidelity—while he has my vessel in pledge!"

Sir Philip remained standing by the side of the vessel, listening to the quick sti'okes of the oars, till the sounds died away in the distance; then he spoke aloud and exultingly: " Shine out, my good star, and guide this prize to me I"

" Oh! rather," exclaimed Rosa, who stood unobserved beside him," rather, merciful Heaven, let thy lightnings blast her or thy waves swallow her. Oh God I" she continued, sinking on her knees and clasping her hands, " shield the innocent; save her from the hand of the destroyer!"

Sir Philip recoiled ; it seemed to him there was something prophetic in the piercing tones of the unhappy girl, and for a moment he felt as if her prayer must penetrate to Heaven; but soon collecting courage, " Hush that mockery, Rosa!" he said; "your words are scorpions to me."

Rosa remained for a few moments on her knees, but without again giving voice to her feehngs; then rising, and sobbing as she spoke," I thought," she

said, " no prayer of mine would ever go upward again. I have tried to pray, and the words fell back like stones upon my heart; but now I pray for the innocent, and they part from me winged for Heaven." She folded her arms, looked upward, and continued to speak, as if it were the involuntary utterance of her thoughts: " How wildly the stars shoot their beams through the parting clouds! I have sometimes thought that good spirits come down on those bright rays to do their messages of love. They may even now be on their way to guard a pure and helpless sister: God speed them !"

Sir Philip's superstitious fears were awakened: " What do you mean, Rosa ?" he exclaimed; " what! are you talking of stars 1 I see nothing but this cursed hazy atmosphere, that hangs like a pall over the water. Stars, indeed! are you mad, Rosa 1"

Rosa replied, with a touching simplicity, as if the inquiry were made in good faith, "Yes, by times I think I am mad. Thoughts rush so fast, so wildly through my poor head—and then, again, all is vacancy. Yes," she continued, as if meditating her case, " I think my brain is touched; but this—this. Sir Philip, is not madness. Do you know that all the good have their ministering spirits ? Why, I remember reading in the 'Legends of the Saints,* which our good abbess gave me, of a chain, invisible to mortal senses, that encompassed all the faithful, from the bright spirits that wait around the throne of Heaven to the lowliest that walk upon the earth. It is of such exquisite temper that naught but sin can

harm it; but, if that but touch it, it falls apai t like rust-eaten metal."

" Away with these fantastic legends, inveixtions of hypocritical priests and tiresome old women. You must curb these foolish vagaries of your imagination, Rosa. I have present and urgent work for you ; do but this good service for me, and I will love you again, and make you as happy as you were in your brightest days."

" You make me happy. Sir PhiUp! Alas! alas! there is no happiness without innocence; if that be once lost, like the guilty Egyptian's pearl you told me of, melted in the bowl of pleasure, happiness cannot be restored."

" As you please, girl; if you will not be happy, you may play the penitent Magdalen the rest of your life. You shall select your own convent, and tell your beads, and say your prayers, and be as demure and solemn as any seeming saint of them all. I will give you a penance to begin with; nay, I am serious: hear me. In spite of your prayers, and visions, and silly fancies. Miss Leslie must soon be here; the snare is too well prepared to be escaped. After this one violence, to which she and cruel fate have driven me, I will be a true knight, as humble and worship-ijal as any hero of chivalry."

" But she does not now love you, and do you not fear she will hate you for this outrage 1"

" Ay; but there is a potent alchymy at work for us in the hearts of you women, that turns hate to lov«. You shall yet hear her .say, hke the lady of

Sir Gawaine, ^ Oh! how it is befallen me, that now I love him whom I before most hated of all men hying.* But you must aid me, Rosa.; this proud queen must have her maid of honour.'*

" And I must be the poor slave to do her bidding!" said Rosa, impatiently interrupting him, and all other feelings giving way to the rising of womanly pride.

" Nay, not so, Rosa," rephed Sir Philip; and he added, in a voice which he hoped might sooth her petulance, " render to her all maidenly service; for a little while do the tasks of the bond-woman, and you shall yet have her wages ; nay, start not—^you remember the good patriarch's affections manifestly leaned to the side of Hagar."

" Yes, yes ; and I remember, too, what her fate was —^the fate of all who follow in her footsteps—^to be cast out to wander forth in a desert, where there is not one sign of God's love left to them." She burst into tears, and added, " I would give my poor life, and a thousand more, if I had them, to save Hope Leslie, but I will never do her menial service."

Sir PhiUp continued to offer ai^uments and entreaties, but nothing that he said had the least effect on Rosa; he could not extort a promise from her, nor perceive the sUghtest indication of conformity to his wishes. But trusting that when the time came she would of necessity submit to his authority, he relinquished his solicitations, and, quitting her side, paced the deck with hurried, impatient footsteps.

There is no sohtude to the good or bad. Nature

has her ministers that correspond with the world within the breast of man. The words " my kingdom is within you," are worth all the metaphysical discoveries ever made by unassisted human wisdom. If all is right in that " kingdom," beautiful forms and harmonious voices surround us, discoursing music 5 but if the. mind is filled with guilty passions, recollections of sin, and purposes of evil, the minis-, tering angels of Nature are converted into demons, whose ^^ monstrous rout are heard to howl like stable wolves." Man cannot live in tranquil disobedience to the law of virtue, inscribed on his soul by the finger of God. " Our torments" cannot " become our elements." To Sir Philip's disordered imagination, the heavy mist seemed like an infolding shroud; there was a voice of sullen menace in the dashing of the waves against the vessel ; the hooting of the night-bird was ominous; and Rosa's low sobs, and the horrid oaths of the misruled crew, rung in his ears like evil prophecies.

Time wore away heavily enough till ten, the earliest moment he had calculated on the return of the boat, but after that it appeared to stand stock still. He ordered the signal lights attached to the mast to be doubled; he strained his eyes in the vain attempt to descry an approaching object, and then cursed the fog that hemmed in his sight. Suddenly a fresh breeze came off the shore, the fog dispersed, and he could discern the few lights that still glimmered from the habitations of the town, but no boat was seen or heard. ** What folly," he repeated to

voL.n.—T

himself a hundred times," to be thus, impatient; they certainly have not failed in their object, or relinquished it, for in that case they would have been here; it is scarcely time to expect them yet;" but the suggestions of reason could not calm the perturbations of impatience. For another hour he continued to stride the deck, approaching the light at every turn to look at his watch. The sailors now began to fret at the delay: " Everything was ready,^' they said; '^ good luck had sent them a fair breeze, and the tide had just turned in their favour." And in Sir Phihp's favour too, it .appeared; for at this moment the longed-for boat was both heard and seen rapidly nearing the vessel. He gazed towards it as if it contained for him a sentence of life or death; and life it was, for he soon perceived a female form wrapped in Chad-dock's watch-cloak.

The boat came to the side of the vessel. " Has the scoundrel dared to put his arm around Hope Leslie ?" thought the knight, as he saw the captain's arm encircling the unfortunate girl; but a second rejQection told him that this, which seemed even to him profanity, was but a necessary precaution. " He dared not trust her; she would have leaped into the waves rather than have come to me—ungracious girl!"

" What hath kept you ?" called out one of the sailors.

" The devil and Antonio," replied the captain. ** We left him with the boat, and, while we were grappling the prize, he ran away. I had to be

chaihs and fetters to the prisoner: we had not hands to man our oars, so we waited for the fellow; but he came not, and has, doubtless, ere this, given the alarm. Weigh your anchor and spread your sails, boys; starting with this wind and tide, we'll give them a devil of a chase, and bootless at last.''

While this was saying, the unhappy victim was lifted up the side of the vessel, and received in Sir Philip's arms. She threw back the hood that had been drawn over her head, and attempted to speak, 'but was prevented by her kerchief, which the ruffians had bound over her face to prevent the emission of any sound. Sir Philip was shocked at the violence and indignity she had suffered. " Did I not order you, Chaddock," he said, " to treat the lady with all possible respect ?"

" D—n your orders!" replied the captain; " was I to let her scream like forty sea-mews, and raise the town upon us ?'

" A thousand—thousand pardons!" whispered Six Philip, in a low, imploring voice; and then aloud to Chaddock, " But after you left the town, captain, you surely should have paid more respect to my earnest and repeated injunctions."

" D—n your injunctions ! John Chaddock is yet master of his vessel, and boat too. I tell you, when the fishing-smacks hailed us, that, even with that close-reefed sail, she made a noise like a creaking mast in a gale."

" Oh ! forgive—forgive," whispered Sir Philip, ** this horrible, necessary outrage. Lean on me; I

will conduct you away frem these wretches; a room is prepared for you; Rosa shall attend you; you are queen here; you command us all. Forgive— forgive, and fear nothing. I will not remove your screen till you are beyond the lawless gaze of these fellows. Here, Roslm !" he called, for he still kept up the farce of Rosa's disguise in the presence of the ship's company, ^^ here, Roslin! take the lamp, and follow me!"

Rosa obeyed, her bosom heaving with struggling emotions, and her hand trembling so that she could scarcely hold the lamp. " Bear the light up, and more steadily, Roslin. Nay, my beloved, adored mistress, do not falter; hasten forward; in one minute more we shall be below, in your own domain, where you may admit or exclude me at pleasure. Do not struggle thus; you have driven me to this violence; you must forgive the madness you have caused. I am your slave for life."

They had just passed down the steps that served as a companion-way, when Sir Philip observed, on his right hand, an uncovered barrel of gunpowder. It had been left in this exposed situation by a care-less fellow, intrusted with the preparation of the fire-arms for the expedition to the town. " Have a care," cried Sir PhiHp to Rosa; *.* stay where you are: do not approach that gunpowder with the light." He heard a footstep above. " Here, firiend," he called, " lend us a hand; come down and cover this powder. We cannot discreetly move an inch." The footsteps ceased, but there was no reply to the

call, " I cannot leave ,Miss Leslie," continued Sir Philip; '^ slie leans on me as if she were fainting. Set down your lamp, Rosa, and come yourself and cover the barrel."

Rosa did not set down the lamp, but moved forward one or two steps with it in her hand, and then paused. She seemed revolving some dreadful purpose in her mind. Her eyes glanced wildly from Sir Philip to his helpless victim; then she groaned aloud, and pressed her hand upon her head as if it were bursting.

Sir Philip did not observe her; he was intent upon his companion. " She is certainly fainting," he said; " it is the close air and this cursed handkerchief!" He attempted to remove it, but the knot by which it was tied bafHed his skill, and he again shouted to Rosa, " Why do you not obey me ? Miss Leslie is suffocating: set down the lamp, I say, and call assistance. Damnation!" he screamed, " what means the girl ?" as Rosa made one desperate leap forward, and shrieking, " It cannot be worse for any of us!" threw the lamp into the barrel.

The explosion was instantaneous: the hapless ^1 —her guilty destroyer—^his victim—^the crew—^the vessel, rent to fragments, were hurled into the air^ and soon ingulfed in the waves. T 2

CHAPTER Xn.

** And how soon to the bower she lored, they say, Return'd the maid that was borne away From Maquon, the fond and the brave."

Bryant.

After Miss Leslie's escape from Oneco on the island, he remained for some time unconscious of her departure, and entirely absorbed in his efforts to quicken the energy of reviving life in his father; and when he discovered that his prisoner had left him, he still deemed her as certainly within his power on the sea-girt island as if she had been enclosed by the walls of a prison. He felt that his father's life depended on his obtaining an asylum as soon as possible, and he determined to abandon his plan of going to Narragansett, and instead, to cross the bay to Moscutusett, the residence of the son and successor of Chicetabot, an avowed ally of the English, but really, in common Avith most of the powerful chiefs, their secret enemy.

If, availing himself of the sheltering twilight of the morning, he could convey his father safely to the wigwam of his friend, Oneco believed he might securely remain there for the present. In the mean time, he should himself be at liberty to contrive and attempt the recovery of his wife. The instrumentality of. Hope Leslie might be important to effect this

object, and she also might remain in safe custody with the Indian chief.

Thus having digested his plans, before the morn- ^ ing dawned, and by the sufficient light of the moon, he went in quest of his prisoner, but was destined, as our readers know, to be disappointed.

He encountered Chaddock's crew much in the situation in which they were first discovered by Miss Leslie; for, after having been baffled in their pursuit of her, they returned and recomposed themselves to jiwait the light of day, when they might give a signal to some boat to take them off-the island.

Oneco, apprehending that, in the prosecution of his search over the island, he might meet with some straggler from this gang, very prudently disguised himself in certain of the cast-off garments belonging to the men, which would enable him to escape, at least, immediate detection. This disguise, though useless then, proved afterward of important service to him.

Compelled by the approach of day to abandon his search, he returned to his canoe, placed his father in it, and rowed him to Sachem's Head, where he was kindly received and cherished, though with the utmost secrecy, for the Indians had long ere this been taught, by painful experience, to guard against the most dispiriting of all dangers—a danger to which the weak, in the neighbourhood of a powerful and comparatively rich foe, are always exposed —^the treachery of their own people.

The chief of Moscutusett obtained, from day to

224 ' HOPE LESLIE.

day, intelligence of whatever transpired in Boston; and in this way Mononotto was apprized of the imprisonment and probable fate of Magawisca. This was the last drop in his cup of bitterness; worse, far worse, than to have borne on his body the seve^ rest tortures ever devised by human cruelty. Magawisca had obtamed an ascendancy over her father's mind by her-extraordinary gifts and superior knowledge. He loved her as his child; he venerated her as an inspired being. He might have endured to have had her cut oflF by the chances of war ; but to have her arraigned before the tribunal of his enemies, as amenable to their laws; to have her die by the hands of the executioner, as one of their own felon subjects, pierced his national pride as well as his affection, and he resigned himself to overwhelming grief. Oneco sorrowed for himself and sorrowed for the old man's tears, but he felt nothing very deeply but the loss of his " white bird."

All his ingenuity was employed to devise the means of her escape. After having painted his face, hands, and legs, so as effectually to conceal his tawny hue, he appeared a foreign sailor in Madam Winthrop's parlour. All succeeded better than his most sanguine expectations. He contrived to give every necessary hint to Faith Leslie ; and so happily veiled his language by his indistinct and rapid utterance, that Governor Wmthrop, familiar as he was with the sound of the Indian dialects, did not suspect him. The family retired immediately after their evening devotions: he laid himself down on the bed that

had been hospitably spread for him, and soon feigned himself asleep. He watched the servants make their last preparations for bed: the lights were ex-tinguished and the fire raked up, though enough still glimmered through the ashes to afford him a competent light when he should need it. The menials withdrew: their footsteps had hardly ceased to vibrate on the ear, when his wife, impatient of any farther delay, stole from her aunt's side, threw on her dress, and with the light, bounding tread of a fawn, passed down the stairs, through the hall, and into the kitchen. Oneco started up, and in a transport of joy would have locked her in his arms, when Jennet appeared. She, like some other disagreeable people, seemed to be gifted with ubiquity, and always to be present where happiness was to be interrupted or mischief to be done.

She stood for an instant, her hands upHfted in silent amazement, hesitating whether to alarm the family with her outcries, or more quietly to give them notice of the character of their guest. Oneco put a sudden end to her deliberations. He first darted to the door and closed it; then drew a knife from his bosom, and, pointing it at Jennet's heart, he told her, in very bad English, but plainly interpreted by his action, that if she moved or uttered a sound, his knife should taste her life-blood.

Jennet saw determination in his aspect, and she stood as still as if she were paralyzed or transfixed, while Oneco proceeded to tell her that, to make all sure, she should go with him to his canoe. He bade

her calm her fears, for then he would release her, pro\'ided that, in the mean time, she made no effort, by voice or movement, to release herself.

There was no alternative, but she did beg to be allowed to go to her room to get her bonnet and cloak. Oneco smiled deridingly at the weak artifice by which she hoped to elude him; but, deigning no other reply to it, he caught a cloak which hung over a chair, threw it over her, and, without any farther delay, compelled her to follow him.

Oneco took good care to avoid the danger, slight though it was, of encountering any passengers, by directing his way through an unfrequented part of the town. Impatience to be beyond the bounds of danger, and the joy of escape and reunion, seemed to lend wings to Jennet's companions, while she followed breathless and panting, enraged at her compelled attendance, and almost bursting with spite, to which she could not give its natural vent by its customary outlet the tongue, the safety-valve of many a vexed spirit

They had arrived very near to the cove where Oneco had moored his canoe. He good-naturedly pointed towards it, and told Jennet that there she should be released. But the hope of release by a mode much more satisfactory to her feelings, inasmuch as it would involve her companions in danger, had dawned on Jennet. She had just perceived some men (how many she could not tell, for the night was then dark), who were, unobserved by Oneco, stealing towards them. She withdrew a few

inches, as far as she dared from his side, lest he should execute sudden vengeance with the weapon which he still held in his hand. Her conjectures were now converted to certainty, and she already mentally exulted in the retaliation she should injQict on lier companions; but, alas!

" Esser vicino al lido Molti fra naufragar ;'*

or, to express the same truth by our vernacular adage, " There's many a slip between the cup and the lip." The men did approach, even to her side; and without listening to her protestations of who she was and who her companions were—without eveii hearing them, they seized on her, and, suffering the other parties to escape without any annoyance, bound her hood and handkerchief over her head and face, and, as our readers have already anticipated, conveyed her to that awful Jestiny which she had herself indirectly prepared.

It may excite some surprise that Chaddock, forewarned, as he had been, that the lady whom he was to intercept would have no male attendant, should not have hesitated when he saw Oneco. But that may be explained by Oneco wearing the dress of the ship's crew, and the natural conclusion, on Chad-dock's part, that Antonio, whom he had left in the boat, had come on shore, and probably just joined these females. Chaddock's only care was to select the shortest of the two women, and, obscure as tte night was, their relative height was apparent.

CHAPTER Xm.

*< Basta cosi Nintendo Gi^ ti spiegasti a pieno : £ mi diresti meno Se mi dicessi piil."

Mbtastasio.

We trust we have not exhausted the patience of our readers, and that they will vouchsafe to go forth with us once more, on the eventful evening on which we have fallen, to watch the safe conduct of the released prisoner.

The fugitives had not proceeded many yards from the jail when Everell joined them. This was the first occasion on which Magawisca and Everell had had an opportunity freely to interchange their feelings. Everell's tongue faltered when he would have expressed what he had felt for her: his manly, generous nature disdained vulgar professions, and he feared that his ineffectual efforts in her behalf had left him without any other testimony of the constancy of his friendship and the warmth of his gratitude.

Magawisca comprehended his feelings, and anticipated their expression. She related the scene with Sir Philip in the prison, and dwelt long on her knowledge of the attempt Everell then made to rescue her. . " That bad man," she said," made me, for the first time, lament for my lost limb. He darkened

the clouds that were gathering over my soul; and for a little while, Everell, I did deem thee like most of thy race,.on whom kindness falls like drops of rain on the lake, dimpling its surface for a moment, but leaving no mark there; but when I found thou wert true,*' she continued, in a swelling, exulting voice, " when I heard thee in my prison, and saw thee on my trial, I again rejoiced that I had sacrificed my precious limb for thee; that I had worn away the days and nights in the solitudes of the forest, musing on the memory of thee, and counting the moons till the Great Spirit shall bid us to those regions where there will be no more gulfs between us, and I may hail thee as my brother."

" And why not now, Magawisca, regard me as your brother ? True, neither time nor distance can sever the bonds by which our souls are united; but why not enjoy this friendship while youth, and as long as life lasts 1 Nay, hear me, Magawisca; the present difference of the English with the Indians is but a vajpour, that has, even now, nearly passed away. Go, for a short time, where you may be concealed from those who are not yet prepared to do you justice, and then—^I will answer for it—every heart and every voice will unite to recall you; you shall be welcomed with the honour due to you from all, and always cherished with the devotion due from us."

" Oh ! do not hesitate, Magawisca," cried Hope, who had, till now, been only a listener to the conversation, in which she took a deep interest. " Promise us that you will return and d^ell with us: as

Vol. II.— U

jou would say, Magawisca, we will walk in the same path; the same joys will shine on us; and, if need be that sorrows come over us, why, we will all sit under their shadow together."

" It cannot be—^it cannot be," replied Magawisca, the persuasions of those she loved not for a moment overcoming her deep, invincible sense of the wrongs her injured race had sustained. " My people have been spoiled; we cannot take as a gift that which is our own ; the law of vengeance is written on our hearts: you say you have a written rule of forgiveness—^it may be better if ye would be guided by it ; it is not for us: the Indian and the white man can no more mingle and become one than day and night."

Everell and Hope would have interrupted her with farther entreaties and arguments: " Touch no more on that," she said; " we must part, and forever." Her voice faltered for the first time, and turning from her own fate to what appeared to her the bright destiny of her companions, " My spirit will jpy in the thought," she said, " that you are dwelling in love and happiness together. Nelema told me your souls were mated; she said your affections mingled like streams from the same fountain. Oh! may the chains by which He who sent^you from the Spirit-land bound you together, grow brighter and stronger till you return thither again."

She paused : neither of her companions spoke— neither could speak; and, naturally misinterpreting their silence, ^ Have I passed your bound of modes-

ty," she said, " in speaking to the maiden as if she were a wife ?"

"Oh, no, Magawisca," said Everell, feeling a strange and undefinable pleasure in an illusion which, though he could not for an instant participate, he would not for the world have dissipated; " oh, no i do not check one expression—one word; they are your last to us," " And may not the last words of a friend be, like the sayings of a death-bed, prophetic 1" he would have added, but his lips refused to utter what he felt was the ti^chery of his heart.

To Hope it seemed that too much had already been spoken. She could be prudent when anything but her own safety depended on her discretion. Before Magawisca could reply to Everell, she gave a turn to the conversation: "Ere we part, Magawisca," she said, " cannot you give me some charm by which I may win my sister's affections ? She is wasting away with grief and pining."

"Ask your own heart, Hope Leslie, if any charm could win your affections from Everell Fletcher ?"

She paused for a reply. The gulf from which Hope had retreated seemed to be widening before her; but, summoning all her courage, she answered with a tolerably firm voice, ^i Yes—yes, Magawisca; if virtue—^if duty to others required it, I trust in Heaven I could command and direct my affections."

We hope Everell may be forgiven for the joy that gushed through his heart when Hope expressed a confidence in her own strength, which at least im«

plied 2k consciousness that she needed it Nature will rejoice in reciprocated love, under whatever ad-ver^ties it comes«

Magawisca replied to Hope's apparent meaning: " Both virtue and duty/' she said, " bind your sister to Oneco. She hath been married according to our simple modes, and persuaded by a Romish father, as she came from Christian blood, to observe the rites of their law. When she flies from you, as she will, mourn not over her, Hope Leslie; the wild flower would perish^ your, gardens; the forest is like a native home to her, and she will sing as ^ayly again as the bird that hath found its mate."

They now approached the place where Digby, with a trusty friend, was awaiting them. A light canoe had been provided, and Digby had his instructions from Everell to convey Magawisca to any place she might herself select The good fellow had entered into the confederacy with hearty good-will, giving, as a reason for his obedience to the impulse of his heart, " that the poor Indian girl could not commit sins enough against the English to weigh down her good deed to Mr. Everell."

Everell now inquired of Magawisca whither he should direct the boat: " To Moscutusett," she said; " I shall there get tidingjs, at least, of my father."

" And must we now part, Magawisca ? Must we live without you 1"

" Oh ! no, no," cried Hope, joining her entreaties, '^ your noble mind must not be wasted in those hideous solitudes." "^

"Solitudes!" echoed Magawisca, in a voice in which some pride mingled with her parting sadness; " Hope Leslie, there is no solitude to me; the Great Spirit and his ministers are everywhere present and visible to the eye of the soul th?it loves him; Nature is but his interpreter; her forms are but bodies for his spirit. I hear him in the rushing winds—in the summer breeze—^in the gushing fountains—^in the softly running streams. I see him in the bursting life of ^ring—in the ripening maize—in the falling leaf. Those beautiful lights,'' and she pointed upward, " that shine alike on your stately domes and our forest homes, speak to me of his love to all: think you I go to a solitude, Hope LesUe ?"

" No, Magawisca; there is no solitude, nor privation, nor sorrow to a soul that thus feels the presence of God," replied Hope. She paused : it was not a time for calm reflection or protracted solicitation ; but the thought that a mind so disposed to religious impressions and affections might enjoy the brighter light of Christian revelation—a revelation so much higher, nobler, and fuller than that Avhich proceeds from the voice of Nature—made Hope feel a more intense desire than ever to retain Magawisca ; but this was a motive Magawisca could not now appreciate, and she could ©ot, therefore, urge: " I cannot ask you," she said, " I do not ask you, for your sake, but for ours, to return to us."

"Oh! yes, Magawisca," urged Everell, "come back to us, and teach us to be happy, as you are, without human help or agency." U2

" Ah!" she replied, with a faint smile, " ye need not the lesson; ye will each be to the other a full stream of happiness. May it be fed from the fountain of love, and grow broader and deeper through all the passage of life."

The picture Magawisca presented was, in the minds of the lovers, too painfully contrasted with the real state of their affairs. Both felt their emotions were beyond their control; both silently appealed to Heaven to aid them in repressing feelings that might not be expressed.

Hope naturally sought reUef in action. She took a morocco case from her pocket, and drew from it a rich gold chain, with a clasp containing hair, and set round with precious stones: ** Magawisca,'* she said, with as much steadiness of voice as she could assume, " take this token with you; it will serve as a memorial of us both; for I have put in the daisp a lock of Everell's hair, taken from his head when he was a boy, at Bethel: it will remind you of your happiest days there."

Magawisca took the chain, and held it in her hand a moment, as if deliberating. " This is beautiful," she said, " and would, when I am far away from thee, speak sweetly to me of thy kindness, Hope Leslie. But I would rather, if I could demean myself to be a beggar—" she hesitated, and then added, "I wrong thy generous nature in fearing thus to speak; I know thou wilt freely give me the image, when thou hast the living form."

Before she had finished, Hope's quick apprefaen-

sion had comprehended her meaning. Immediately after EverelPs arrival in England, he had, at his father's desire, had a small miniature of himself painted, and sent to Hope. She attached it to a riband, and had always worn it. Soon after Everell's engagement to Miss Downing, she took it oflF to put it aside; but feeling, at the moment, that this action implied a consciousness of weakness, she, with a mixed feeling of pride and reluctance to part with it, Kstored it to her bosom. While she was adjusting Magawisca's disguise in the prison, the miniature slid from beneath her dress, and she, at the time, observed that Magawisca's eye rested intently on it. She must not now hesitate; Everell must not see her reluctance; and yet, such are the strange contrarieties of human feeling, the severest pang she felt in parting with it was the fear that Everell would think it was a willing gift. Hoping to shelter all her feelings in the haste of the action, she took the miniature from her ow^n neck and tied it around Magawisca's. " You have but reminded me of my duty," she said; " nay, keep them both, Magawisca; do not stint the little kindness I can show you."

Digby had at this moment come up to urge no more delay; and we leave to others to adjust the proportions of emotion that were indicated by Hope's faltering voice and an irrepressible burst of tears, between her grief at parting and other and secret feelings.

All stood as if they were riveted to the ground till Digby again spoke, and suggested the danger to

which Magawisca was exposed by this delay. All felt the necessity of immediate separation, and all shrank from it as from witnesang the last gasp of life. They moved to the water's edge, and once more prompted by Digby, Everell and Hope, in broken voices, expressed their last wishes and prayers. Magawisca joined their hands, and bowing her head on them," The Great Spirit guide ye," she said, and then, turning away, leaped into the boat, muffled her face in her mantle, and in a few brief moments.4is-appeared forever from their sight.

Everell and Hope remained immovable, gazing on the little boat till it faded in the dim distance : for a few moments, every feeling for themselves was lost in the grief of parting forever from this admirable being, who seemed, to her enthusiastic young friends, one of the noblest of the works of God—a bright witness to the beauty, the independence, and the immortality of virtue. They breathed their silent prayers for her; and when their thoughts returned to themselves, there was a consciousness of perfect unity ,of feeling—a joy in the sympathy that was consecrated by its object and might be innocently indulged, that was a delicious spell to their troubled hearts.

Strong as the temptation was, they both felt the impropriety of lingering where they were, and they bent their slow, unwilling footsteps homeward. Not one word, during the long-protracted walk, was spoken by either; but no language could have been so expressive of their mutual love and mutual resolu*

tion as this silence. They both afterward confessed that, though they had never felt so deeply as at that moment the bitterness of their divided destiny, yet neither had they before known the worth of iose principles of virtue that can subdue the strongest passions to their obedience: an experience worth a tenfold suffering.

As they approached Governor Winthrop's^ cfiey observed that, instead of the profound darkness and silence that usually reigned in that exemplary mansion at eleven o'clock, the house seemed to be in great bustle. The doors were open, and they heard loud voices, and lights were swiftly passing from room to room. Hope inferred that, notwithstanding her precautions, the apprehensions of the family had probably been excited in regard to her untimely absence, and she passed the little distance that remained with dutiful haste. Everell attended her to the gate of the court, and, pressing her hand to his lips with an emotion that he felt he might indulge for the last time, he left her, and went, according to a previous determination, to Barnaby Tuttle's, where, by a surrender of himself to the jailer's custody, he expected to relieve poor Cradock from his involithtary confinement.

CHAPTER XIV

" Quelque rare que soil le veritable amour il Test encore moint que la veritable amitie."— Rochkpoucadlo.

Hope Leslie met Mr. Fletcher at the threshold of the door. He was sallying forth with hasty steps and disordered looks. He started at the sight of her, and then, clasping her in his arms, exclaimed, " My child! my child! my precious child V

At the sound of his voice, the whole family rushed from the parlour. " Praised be the Lord for thy deliverance, Hope Leslie !" cried Governor Winthrop, clasping his hands with astonishment. Mrs. Grafton gave vent to her feelings in hysterical sobbings and inarticulate murmursof joy. Madam Winthrop said, " I thought it was impossible; I told you the Lord would be better to you than your fears:" and Esther Downing embraced her friend with deep emotion, whispering as she did so, " The Lord is ever better to us than our'fears or our deservings."

It was ob\dous to our heroine that all this excitement and overflowing of tenderness could not be occasioned merely by her unseasonable absence, and she begged to know what had caused so much alarm.

The governor was beginning, in his official manner, a formal statement, when, as if the agitations of this eventful evening were never to end, the explo-

HOPE LESLIE. g39

sion of Chaddock's vessel broke in upon their returning tranquillity, and spread a panic through the town of Boston.

The occurrence of the accident, at this particular moment, was fortunate for Magawisca, as it prevented a premature discovery of her escape; a discovery by which the governor would have felt himself obliged to take measures for her recapture that might then have proved effectual. The explosion, of course, withdrew his attention from all other subjects, and both he and Mr. Fletcher went out to ascertain whence it had proceeded, and what ill consequences had ensued.

In tjie mean time, Hope learned the following particulars from the ladies. The family had retired to bed at the accustomed time, and, about half an houi before her return, were alarmed by a violent knocking at the outer door. The servant first awakened let in a stranger, who demanded an immediate audience of the governor, concerning matters of life and death. The stranger proved to be Antonio, and his communication, the conspiracy with which our readers are well acquainted, or, rather, as much of it as had fallen within the knowledge.of the subordinate agents. Antonio declared that, having within the harbour of Boston been favoured with an extra-. ordinary visitation from his tutelar saint, who had vouchsafed to warn him against his sinful comrades, he had determined, from the first, that he would, if possible, pjevent the wicked designs of the conspirators; and for that purpose had solicited to be among

240 ' HOFS LB8LIB.

the number who were sent on shore, intending to give notice to the governor in time for him to counteract the wicked project: he averred that, after quitting the boat, he had heard the screams of the unhappy girl when she was seized by the sailors; he had been spurred to all possible haste, but, unhappily, ignorant of the town, had strayed out of his way in commg from the cove, and, finally, had found it almost impossible to rouse any of the sleeping inhabitants to guide him to the governor's,

Antonio knew the name of the author of this guilty project to be Sir Philip Gardiner, and its victim, Miss Leslie. These names were fearful hmts to the governor, and had prevented his listening with utter incredulity to the tale of the stranger. As the easiest means of obtaining its confirmation or refutation, a messenger was despatched to Sir Philip's lodgings, who almost instantly returned with the intelligence that he, his page and baggage, had clandestinely disappeared during the evening. This was a frightful coincidence; and, while the governor's orders that all the family should be called were executing, be made one farther investigation.

He recollected the packet of letters which Rosa had given to her master during the trial. Sir Philip had laid th^m on the table, and, forgetting them in the confusion that followed, the governor had taken possession of them, intending to restore them at the first opportunity. He felt himself now not only authorized to break the seals, but compelled to that discourtesy. The letters were firom a confidential

correspondent, and proved beyond a doubt that Sir Philip had formerly been the protege and ally of Thomas Morton, the old political enemy of the colony; that he was a Roman Catholic; of course, that the governor and his friends had been duped by his religious pretensions; and, in short, that he was an utter profligate, who regarded neither the laws of God nor man.

An4 into the power of this wretch the friends of Miss Leslie were left, for a few agonizing moments, to beheve she had fallen; and their joy at her appearance was, as may be believed, commensurate with their previous distress.

Some of the minor incidents of the evening now transpired.. One of the servants reported that the young sailor had disappeared; and Mrs. Oraflon suddenly recollected to have observed that Faith Leslie was not with her when she was awakened, a circumstance she had overlooked in her subsequent agitation. By a single clew an intricate maze may be threaded. Madam Winthrop now recalled Faith Leslie's emotion at the first sound of the sailor's voice, and the ladies soon arrived at the right concluidon, that he was in reality Oneco, and that they had effected their escape together. Jennet (if Jennet had • survived to hear it, she never would have believed the tale), the only actual sufferer, was the only one neither missed nor inquired for. Good Master Cra-dock was not forgotten; but his friends were satisfied with Miss Leslie's assurance that he was safe, and would probably not return before the morning.

Vol. n.—X

The final departure of her sister cost Hope many regrets and tears. But an inevitable event of such a nature cannot seriously disturb the happiness of life. There had been nothing in the intercourse of the sisters to excite Hope's affections. Faith had been spiritless, wo-begone—a soulless body—and had repelled, with sullen indifference, all Hope's efforts to win her lave. Indeed, she looked upon the attentions of her English friends but as a contmua-tion of the unjust force by which they had severed her from all she held dear. Her marriage, solemnized, as it had been, by prescnbed Christian rites, would probably have been considered by her guardian and his friends as invalidated by her extreme youth, and the circumstances which had led to the union. But Hope took a more youthful, romantic, and, perhaps, natural view of the affair; and the suggestions of Magawisca, combining with the dictates of her own heart, produced the conclusion that this was a case where ^' God had joined together, and roan might not put asunder."

All proper (though, it may be, not very vigorous) measures were taken by Governor Winthrop, on the following day, to discover the retreat of the fugitives, but the secret was faithfully kept while necessary to their security.

• The return of his children, and, above all, of Magawisca, seemed to work miracles on their old father; his health and strength were renewed, and for a while he forgot, in the powerful influence of her presence, his wrongs and sorrows. He would not

hazard the safety of his protector and that of his own family by lingering a single day in the vicinity of his enemies.

Before the dawn of the next morning, this little remnant of the Pequod race—a name at which, but a few years before, all within the bounds of the New-England colonies—all, English and Indians, " grew pale"—^began their pilgrimage to the far western forests. That which remains untold of their story is lost in the deep, voiceless obscurity of those unknown regions.

The terrors her friends had suffered on account of our heroine, induced them to overlook everything but the joy of her safety. She was permitted to retire with Esther to their own apartment, without any inquisition being made into the cause of her extraordinary absence. Even her friend, when they were alone together, made no allusion to it, and Hope rightly concluded that she was satisfied, with her own conjectures as to its object.

Hope could scarcely refrain from indulging the natural frankness of her temper, by disclosing, unsolicited, the particulars of her successful enterprise; and she only checked the inclinations of her heart from the apprehehsion that Esther might deem it her duty to extend her knowledge to her uncle, and thus Magawisca might be again endangered. " She cer-tamly conjectures how it is," thought Hope, making her own mental comments on Esther's forbearance; " and yet she does not indicate the least displeasure at my having combined with Everell to render the

delightful service that her severe conscience would not allow her to perform. She never spoke to me with more tenderness: how could I ever suspect her of jeabusy or distrust 1 She is incapable of either— she is angelic; far, far more deserving of Everell than I am.'*

At this last thought, a half-stifled but audible sigh escaped her, and reached her friend's -ear. Their eyes met A deep, scorching blush sufiused Hope's cheeks, brow, and neck. Esther's face beamed with ineffable sweetness and serenity. She looked as ^ mortal can look only when the world and its temptations are trampled beneath the feet, and the eye is calmly, steadily, immovably fixed on Heaven. She folded Hope in her arms, and pressed her fondly to her heart, but not a word, tear, or sigh escaped her. Her soul was composed to a profound stillness, incapable of being disturbed by her friend's tears and sobs, the involuntary expression of her agitated, confused, and irrepressible feelings.

Hope turned away from Esther and crept into her bed, feeling, like a condemned culprit, self-condemned. It seemed to her that a charm had been wrought on her; a sudden illumination had flashed from her friend's face into the most secr^ recesses of her heart, and exposed—^this was her most distressful apprehension—to Esther's eye feelings whose existence, till thus revealed to another (and the last per-sc«i in the world to whom they should be revealed), she had only, and reluctantly, ackopwledged to herself.

Deeply mortified and humbled, she remained wakeful, weeping and lamenting this sudden exposure of emotions that she feared could never be explained or forgotten, long after her friend had encircled her in her arms, and fallen into a sweet and profound sleep.

We must leave the apartment of the generous and involuntary* rivals to repair to the parlour, where Governor Winthrop, after having ascertained that Chaddock's vessel had been blown up by the explosion, was listening to Barnaby Tuttle's relation of the transaction at the prison.

The simple jailer, on learning from Everell's confessions how he had been cajoled, declined increasing his responsibilities by making the exchange Everell proposed, but very readily acceded to his next proposition, namely, that he should be permitted to share the imprisonment of Cradock. On entering the dungeon, they found the good old man sleeping as soundly on Magawisca's pallet as if he were in his own apartment; and Everell, rejoicing that he had suffered so little in the good cause to which it had been necessary to make him accessory, and exulting in the success of his enterprise, took possession of his dark and miserable cell with feelings that he would not have bartered for those of a conqueror mounting his triumphal car.

Barnaby had a natural feeling of vexation at having been outvritted by Hope Leslie's stratagems ; btit it was a transient emotion, and not strong enough to check the habitual current of his gratitude and affec-X 2

tion for her, nor did it at all enter into his relation of the facts to the governor. On the contrary, his natural kind-heartedness rendered the statement favourable towards all parties.

He did not mention Magawisca's name without a parenthesis, containing some commendation. of her deportment in the prison. He spoke of Hope Leslie as the " thoughtless child," or the " feeling ^oung creature." Master Cradock was " the poor, witless old gentleman;" and " for Mr. Everell, it was not vrith-in the bounds of human nature, in his peculiar case, not to feel as he did; and as to himself, he was but an old dotard, ill fitted to keep bars and bolts, when a child—the Lord and the governor forgive her !— could guide him with a wisp of straw."

Nothing was farther from Barnaby Tuttle's thoughts than any endeavour to blind or pervert a ruler's judgment; but the governor found something infectious in his artless humanity. Besides, he had one good, sufficient, and state reason for extenuating the offence of the young conspirators, and of this he made a broad canopy to shelter his secret and kind dispositions towards them. A messenger had that day arrived from the chief of the Narragansetts, with the information that a war had broken out between Miantunnomoh and Uncas, and an earnest solicitation that the English would not interfere with their domestic quarrels.

•To our ancestors it appeared their melancholy policy to promote rather than to allay these feuds among the tribes; and a war between these rival

and powerful chieftains assured, while it lasted, the safety of the English settlements. It became, therefore, very important to avoid any act that might provoke the universal Indian sentiment against the English, and induce them to forego their civil quarrel, and combine against the common enemy. This would be the probable effect of the condemnation of the Pequod girl, whose cause had been espoused by several of the tribes: still, on a farther investigation of her case, the laws might require her condemnation ; and the Puritans held firmly to the principle that good must be done, though evil ensue.

Governor Winthrop perceived that Magawisca's escape relieved them from much and dangerous perplexity ; and though Everell Fletcher's interposition nad been unlawful and indecorous, yet, as Providence had made him the instrument of certain good, he thought his offence might be pardoned by his associates in authority. •

He dismissed Barnaby with an order to appear before him with his prisoners at six o'clock the following morning. At that hour he assembled together such of the magistrates and deputies as were in Boston, deeming it, as he said, proper to give them the earliest notice of the various important circumstances that had occurred since the morning of the preceding day.

He opened the meeting with a communication of the important intelligence received from the Narra-gansett chief; intimated the politic uses to which his brethren might apply it; then, after some general

observations on the imperfection of human wisdom, disclosed at full the iniquitous character and conduct of Sir Philip Gardmer ; lamented, in particular, that he had been grievously deceived by that crafty son of Belial, and then dwelt on the wonderful interposition of Providence in behalf of Hope Leslie, which clearly intimated, as he said, and all his auditors acknowledged, that the young maiden's life was precious in the sight of the Lord, and was preserved f(^ some special purpose.

He called their attention to the light thrown on the testimony of Sir Philip against the Indian prisoner by his real character ; and, last of all, he communicated the escape of Magawisca, and the means by which it had been accomplished, with this comment simply, that it had pleased the Lord to bring about great good to the land by this rash act of two young persons, who seemed to have been wrought upon by feelings natural to youth, and the foolishness of an old man, whose original modicum of sense was greatly diminished by age and excess of useless learning; for, he said, Master Cradock not only wrote Greek and Latin, and talked Hebrew like the Rev. Mr. Cotton, but he was skilled in Arabic and the modern tongues.

The governor then proceeded to give many and plausible reasons, with the detail of which it is not necessEuy to weary the patience of our readers, why this case, in the absence of a precise law, should be put under the government of mercy. His associates lent a favourable ear to these suggestions. Most of

them considered the offence very much alleviated by the youth of the two principal parties, and the strong motives that actuated them. Some of the magis-' trates were warm friends of the elder Fletcher, and all of them might have been quickened in their decision by the approach of the breakfast hour ; for, as modern philosophy has discovered, the mind and sensibilities are much under the dominion of these periodical returns of the hours of refection.

The conclusion of the whole matter was, that Miss Leslie and. Master Cradock should receive a private admonition from the governor, and a free pardon; and that Mr, Everell Fletcher should be restored to liberty on condition that, at the next sitting of the court, he appeared in the prisoner's bar to receive a public censure, and be admonished as to his future carriage. To this sentence Everell submitted at the proper time with due humility, and a very becoming, and, as said the elders, edifying modesty.

Throughout the whole affair. Governor Winthrop manifested those dispositions to clemency which were so beautifully illustrated by one of the last circumstances of his life, when, being, as is reported of him, upon his deathbed, Mr. Dudley pressed him to sign an order of banishment of an heterodox person, he refused, saying, " / have done too much of that toork already.^^

Everell and Master Cradock, who had awaited in an adjoining apartment the result of these deliberations, were now informed of the merciful decision of their judges, and summoned to take their places at

the breakfast-table. While all this business was transpiring, Hope Leslie, wearied by the fatigues, agitations, and protracted vigil of the preceding night, was sleeping most profoundly. She awoke with a confused sense of her last anxious waking thoughts, and naturally turned to look for Esther; but Esther had already risen. This excited no surprise ; for it must be confessed that our herome was often anticipated in early rising, as in other severe duties, by her friend. Admonished by a broad sunbeam that streamed aslant her apartment that she had already tr^^passed on the family breakfast hour, she rose and despatched her toilet duties. Her mind was still intent on Esther, and suddenly she missed some familiar objects: Esther's morocco dressmg-case and Bible, Uiat always laid at hand on the dressing-table., Hope was at that moment adjusting her hair ; she dropped her comb—cast a hasty survey around the room. Esther's trunks, bandboxes, every article belonging to her had disappeared. " What could this mean ?" Some solution of the mystery might have dawned from the recollections of the preceding night; but, impatient for a full explanation, she seized her whistle, opened the door, and blew for Jennet till its shrill notes had penetrated every recess of the house. But no Jennet appeared ; and, without waiting to adjust her hair, which she left in what is called disorder, but according to the natural and beautiful order of nature, and with a flushed cheek and beating heart, she hastily descended to the parlour, and, dispensing with the

customary morning salutations, eagerly demanded, "Where is Esther?"

The family were all assembled, and all at the breakfast-table. Her sudden appearance produced an apparent sensation; every eye turned towards her. Mrs. Grafton would have impulsively answered her question, but she was prevented by an intimation from Madam Winthrop. Everell's eye, at the sight of her, had flashed a bright, intelligent.glance, but at her interrogatory it fell, and then turned on Madam Winthrop inquiringly, indicating that he .now, for the first time, perceived that there was something extraordinary in the absence of her niece.

Hope still stood ^»ith the door half open, her emotions in no degree tranquillized by the reception of her inquiry.

Governor Winthrop turned to her with his usual ceremony. " Good-morning, Miss Hope Leslie; be good enough to close the door—^the wind is easterly this morning. You are somewhat tardy, but we know ^ou have abundant reason: take your seat, my child ; apologies are unnecessary."

Madam Winthrop beckoned to Hope to take a chair next her, and Hope moved to the table mechanically, feeling as if she had been paralyzed by some gorgon influence. Her question was not even adverted to—no allusion was made to Esther. Hope observed that Madam Winthrop's eyes were red with weeping, and she also observed that, in ofTering the little civilities of the table, she addressed her in a voice of unusual kindness.

She dared not look again at £yereIIy\¥hose unexpected release from confinement vrould^ at any other time, have fully occupied her thoughts, and her perplexity was rather increased by seeing her guardian's eyes repeatedly fill with " soft tears unshed^" while they rested on her with even more than their usual fondness.

Impatient and embarrassed as she was, it seemed to her the breakfast would never end ; and she was in despair when her aunt asked for her third and her fourth cup of chocolate, and when the dismissal of the table awaited old Cradock's discussion of a replenished plate of fish, from which he painfully and patiently abstracted the bones. But all finite operations have their periods the breakfast did end, the company rose, and all left the parlour, one after another, save the two Fletchers, Madam Winthrop, and our hefoine.

Hope Tvould have followed her aunt—any farther delay seemed insupportable—^but Madam \\ilnthrop took her hand and detained her. " Stay, my young friend,'^ she said; ^^ I have an important communication, which could not be suitably made till this moment." She took a sealed letter from her pocket " Nay, Hope Leslie, grow not so suddenly pale; no blame is attached to thee—^nor to thee, Mr. Everell Fletcher, who art even more deeply concerned in this matter. Both the governor and myself have duly weighed all the circumstances, and have most heartily approved of that which she hath done, who, near and dear as she is to us in the flesh, is still nearer

and dearer by those precious gifts and graces that do so far exalt her (I would offend none present) above all other maidens. Truly,' if many do virtuously/ Esther ' excelleth them all.' "

Hope was obliged to lean against the wall for support. The elder Fletcher looked earnestly at Madam Winthrop, as if he would have said, " For Heaven's sake, do not protract this scene." Perhaps she understood his glance—^perhaps she took counsel from her own womanly feelings. " This letter, my young friends," she said, " is addressed to you both, and it was my niece's request that you should read it at the same time."

Madanl Winthrop kindly withdrew. Everell broke the seal, and both he and Hope, complying faithfully with MTiss Downing's injunction, read together, to the very last word, the letter that follows:

*'To MY DEAR AND KIND FRIENDS, EyBRELL FlETCHER AND

Hope Leslie :

" When you read these lines, the only bar to your earthly happiness will be removed. With the advice and consent of my honoured uncle and aunt, I have taken passage in the ^ Lion,' which, as you know, is on the eve of sailing for London. With God's blessing on my present purposes, I shall remain there, with my father, till he has closed his affairs in the Old World, and then come hither again.

^' Do not thmk, my dear friends, I am fleeing away, because, as matters stand between us, I cannot abide to stay here. For your sakes—for I would

Vol. n.~Y-

not give you needless pain—^I go for a little while. For myself, I have contentment of mind. It hath pleased God to give me glimpses of Christian happiness, the foundations of which are not laid on the earth, and therefore cannot be removed or jostled by any of the cross accidents of life.

" There have been some notable errors in the past We have all erred, and I most of all. My error hath been exceeding himibling to the pride of woman; yours, Hope Leslie, was of the nature of your disposition—rash and generous; and you, Everell (I speak it not reproachfully, but as being truth-bound), have not dealt with Gospel sincerity. I appeal to thine own heart: would it not have been better, as well as kinder, to have said, * Esther, I do not love thee,' than to have permitted me to follow my silly imaginings, and thereby have sacrificed my happiness for this world, and thine, and Hope Leslie's? for I think, and am sure, you never did me the wrong to believe I would knowingly have taken thy hand without thy affections—all of them (at least such measure as maybe given to an earthly friend) being poor and weak enough to answer to the many calls of life.

" It is fitting, that, having been guided to a safe harbour by the good providence of God, we should look back (not reproachfully—God forbid !—^but with gratitude and humility) on the dark and crooked passages through which we have passed. Neither our virtue (I speak ft humbly) nor our happiness has been wrecked. Ye will in no wise wonder

that I speak thus assuredly of your happiness; but, resting your eye on the past, you might justly deem that, for myself, I have fallen into the ' foolishness of boating;' not so. In another strength than mine own I have overcome, and am of good cheer, and well assured that, as. the world hath not given me my joy, the world cannot take it away.

" For the rest, I shall ever rejoice that my affec-tiofts settled on one worthy of them 5 one for whom I shall hereafter feel a sister^s love, and one who will not withhold a brother's kindness. And to thee, my loving, my own sweet and precious Hope Leslie, I resign him. And may He who, by his signal providence, hath so wonderfully restored in you the sundered affections of your parents, knitting, even from your childish years, your hearts together in love —may He make you his own dear and faithful chil- -dren in the Lord.

"Thus, hoping for your immediate union and worldly well-being, ever prays your true and devoted friend, Esther Downing."

Hope Leslie's tears fell like raindrops on her friend's letter; and when she had finished it, she turned and clasped her arms around her guardian's neck, and hid her face on his bosom. Feelings for which words are too poor an expression, kept all parties for some time silent. To the elder Fletcher it was a moment of happiness that requited years of suffering. He gave Hope's hand to Everell: ^ Sainted mothers!" he said, raising bis full eyes to

Heaven, ^'look down on your children^ and bless them!" And, truly, celestial spirits might look with complacency, from their bright spheres, on the pure and perfect love that united these youthful beiq§s.

Mr. Fletcher \rithdrew; and we, following his example, must permit the curtaiu to fall on this scene, as we hold it a profane intrusion for any ear to listen to the first confessions of reciprocated, happy love.

Events have already meted "fit retribution" to most of the parties who have.figured in our long story. A few particulars remam.

There was one man of Chaddock's crew left alive to tell the tale; the same whose footsteps, it may be recollected, Sir Philip heard, and on whom he had vamly called for assistance. This man was lingering to observe the principal actors in the tragedy when the explosion took place, and, with the rest, was blown into the air; but he escaped with his life, gained the boat, and came, the next day, safely to the shore, where he related all he knew, to the great relief of the curiosity of the good people of Boston.

Strict search was, by the governor's order, made for the bodies of the unhappy wretches who had been so suddenly sent to their doom.

Jennet's was one of the first found: the handkerchief that had been bound over her head still remained, the knot which defied Sir Philip's skill having also resisted the lashing of the waves. When

this screen was removed and the body identifl^^the mystery of her disappearance was at once explained. "Death wipes out old scores;" and even Jennet, deadf was wrapped in the mantle of charity; but all who had known her living, mentally confessed that Death could not have been more lenient in selecting a substitute for the precious life he had menaced. Poor Rosa^s remains were not

** Left to float upon their wat'ry bier Unwept, and welter to the parching wind.**

Her youth, her wrongs and sufferings, combined with the pleadings of Hope Leslie, obtained for her the rites of a separate and solemn burial. Tears of humility and pity were shed over her grave—a fit tribute from virtuous and tender woman to a fallen, unhappy sister.

All the bodies of the sufferers were finallyjrecover-ed except that of Sir Philip Gardiner; and the inference of our pious forefathers, that Satan had seized upon that as his lawful spoil, may not be deemed, by their skeptical descendants, very unnatural.

We leave it to that large and most indulgent class of our readers, the misses in their teens, to adjust, according to their own fancy, the ceremonial of qjr heroine's weddbg, which took place in due time, to the joy of her immediate friends, and the entire approbation of all the inhabitants of Boston, who, in those early times, manifested a friendly interest in Y 2

individual concernSy which is said to characterize them to the present day.

The elder Fletcher remained with bis children, and permitted himself to enjoy to the full the happiness which it was plain Providence had prepared for him. The close of his life was as the clear shining forth of the sun after a stormy and troubled day.

Dame Grafton evinced some mortification at the discover}' of the fallibility of her judgment in relation to Sir Philip Gardiner; but she soon dubbed him Sir Panics —a name that implied he had two faces; and her sagacity was not at fault if she judged by the one presented to her. Her trifling vexation was soon forgotten in her participation in her niece's*felicity, and in her busy preparations for the wedding; and, after that event, she was made so happy by the dutiful care of Hope and Everell, that she ceased to regret Old England, till, falling into her dotage, her entreaties, combining with some other motives, induced them to visit their mother.country, where the old lady died, and was buried in the tomb of the Leslies, the church burial-service being performed by the Bishop of London. Her unconsciousness of this poetic justice must be regretted by all who respect innocent prejudices.

We hope that class of readers above alluded to will not be shocked at our heroine's installing Master Cradock as a life-member of her domestic estaV lishment. We are sure their kind hearts would reconcile them to this measure if they could know with

what fidelity, and sweetness, and joy to the good man she performed the promise she gave in Mag-awisca's prison, " that she would be a child to his old age." If they are still discontented with the arrangement, let them perform an action of equal kindness, and they will learn, from experience, that our heroine had her reward.

Digby never ceased, after the event had verified them, to pride himself on his own presentiments and his wife's dreams. A friendship between him and Everell and Hope subsisted through his life, and descended, a precious legacy, through many generations of their descendants, fortified by favours on the one part, and gratitude on the other, and reciprocal affection.

Barnaby Tuttle, and his timely compliance with her wishes, were not forgotten by our heroine. Persuaded by her advice, and enabled by an annual stipend from her to do so, he retired from his solitary post of jailer, and passed his old age comfortably with his daughter Ruth, versifying psalms, and playing with the little Tuttles.

After the passage of two or three years. Miss Downing returned to New-England, and renewed her intercourse with Everell and Hope, without any other emotions on either side than those which belong to warm and tender friendship. Her personal loveliness. Christian graces, and the high rank she held in the colofiy, rendered her an object of very general attraction.

Her hand was often and eagerly sought, but she

appears never to have felt a second engros^ng attachment The current of her purposes and affections had set another way. She illustrated a truth, which, if more generally received by her sex, might save a vast deal of misery: that marriage is not e^-sential to the contentment, the dignity, or the happiness of woman. Indeed, those who saw on how wide a sphere her kindness shone, how many were made better and happier by her disinterested devotion, might have rejoiced that she did not

" Give to a party what was meant for mankiDd.**

NOTES.

(I.) ** She understands and speaks English perfectly welL" —Page 24, 25, vol. i.

We would take the Uberty to refer those who may think we have here violated probability, to Winthrop, who speaks of a Pequod maiden who attended Miantuii^omoh as interpreter, and " spoke English perfectly."

(2.) " Monoca, the mother of these children, was noted for the singular dignity and modesty of her demeanour."—Page 25, vol. i.

For those who disbelieve the existence in savage life of the virtues which we have ascribed to this Indian woman, we quote our authority :

*' Among the Pequod captives were the wife and children of Mononotto. She was particularly noticed by the English for her great modesty, humanity, and good sense. She made it as her only request that she might not be injured either as to her offspring or personal honour. As a requital for her kindness to the captivated maids, her life and the lives of her children were not only spared, but they were particularly recommended to the cafe of Governor Winthrop. He gave charge for their protection and kind treatment."— Trumbull*s Hist, of Connecticut, See also Hubbard's Indian Wars^ p. 47.

(3.) " They told him they would spare his life if he would guide them to our strongholds; he refused."—Page 71, vol. i.

" But, finding that the sachems, whom they had spared, would give them no information, they beheaded them on their march, at a place called Mekunkatuck, since Guilford."— Ibid,

(4.) '* You English tell us, Everell, that the book of your law is better than that written on our hearts," &jo. —^Pages 71, 72, vol. i.

The language of the Indians, as reported by Hedcewelder,

verifies so strongly the sentiment in our text, and is so powerful an admonition to Christians, that we here quote it for those who may not have met with the interesting work of this excellent Moravian missionary. " And yet," say those injured people, "these white men would always be telling us of their great Book which God had given to them. They would persuade us that every man was good who believed in what the book said, and every man was bad who did not believe in it. They told us a great many things which they said were written in the good Book, and wanted us to believe it all. We would probably have done so if we had seen them practise what they pretended to believe, and act according to the good words which they told us. But no! while they held their big book id one hand, in the other they had murderous weapons, guns and swords, wherewith to kill us poor Indians. Ah! and they did so too !"

(5.) "The Indians remained standing," &c.—Page 214, • vol. i.

The characteristic conduct of the Narragansett chief is transferred to our pages from "Winthrop, who thus describes it: " When we should go to dinner, there was a table provided for the Indians to dine by themselves, and Miantunnomoh was left to sit with them. This he was discontented at, and would eat nothing till the governor sent him meat from his table. So at night, and all the time he stayed, he sat at the lower end of the magistrate's table."

(6.) " She entered the enclosure, now the churchyard of the stone chapel."—Page 249, vol. i.

This was the first burial-place in Boston; and as early as the year 1630, consecrated by the interment of Mr. Johnson, who died of grief for the loss of his wife, the Lady Arbella, " the pride of tJie colony^ " He was," says Winthrop, " a holy man and wise, and died in sweet peace." And another contemporary historian says, that he was so beloved that many persons requested their bodies might be interred near his.

(7.) " That gentleman, sir, is the apostle of New-England." —Page 156, vol. ii.

We believe we have anticipated, by three or four years, this

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title, so well earned and generally bestowed. We cannot pass the hallowed name of Eliot without pausing earnestly to beseech our youthful readers to study his history, in which they will find exemplified, from youth to extreme old age, the divine precepts of his Master. He was the first Protestant missionary to the Indians; for nearly half a century their instruct-er, friend, and father; and when, during the war with the terrific Philip of Mount Hope, fear had turned every hand and heart against them, and their utter extinction was regarded by most as necessary to the salvation of the English colonies, EUot was stUl their indefatigable and fearless advocate. The Christian philanthropist will delight to follow this good man through his diocess of Indian churches; to see him surrounded by his simple catechumens, dealing out the bread of life to them; to go with him to his "prophet's chamber" atNatick—that apartment prepared by the love of his Indian disciples, and consecrated by his prayers; and, finally, to stand by his bedside when, in extreme old age, like his prototype "the beloved apostle," all other affections had melted into a flame of love. " Alas!" he said, " I have lost everything. My understanding leaves me. My memory—^my utterance fails me ; but I thank God my charity holds out still. I fiiHi that grows rather than fails."

His name has been appropriately given to a flourishing missionary station, where the principle on which he at all times insisted is acted upon, viz., "that the Indiaps must be civil-' ized, as well as, if not in order to, their being Christianized." This principle has no opposers in our age; and we cannot but hope that the present enlightened labours of the followers of Eliot will be rewarded with such success as shall convert the faint-hearted, the cold, and the skeptical into ardent promoters of missions to the Indian race.

(8.) " I know," she said, " that it contains thy rule."—Page 165, vol. ii.

This reply of Magawisca we have somewhere seen given as the genuine answer of an Indian to the solititation of a missionary, but are not able now to refer to our authority.

(9.) "MoBcatoaett."

Among the vaiioas conjectures respecting the etymology of the word Massachusetts, the following, communicated by Neal, appears the most satis&ctoiy: ** The sachem who governed this part of the country had his seat on a hill, about two leagues to the southward of Boston. It hes in the shape of an Indian arrow-head, which is called, in their language, <Mo8' or *Mons.' A hill, in their language, is * Wetusett,' pronounced Wechusett; hence the great sachem's seat was caUed < Moscutusett,* from whence, with a small variation, the province received the name of Massachu8etts."~ift«<. (/JBoffton.

This hiU is in the town of Quincy, and now known by tlie name of ** Sachem's HilL*'

THE END.

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