VISIT FROM THE NATIVES AT TERRA DEL FUEGO.

During our stay, we had, at various times, visits from the natives. They were all at first very shy, but after they found our friendly disposition towards them, they became more sociable and confiding.

On the 11th of March three bark canoes arrived, containing four men, four women, and a girl about sixteen years old, four little boys and four infants, one of the latter about a week old, and quite naked. They had rude weapons, viz. slings to throw stones, three rude spears, pointed at the end with bone, and notched on one side with barbed teeth. With this they catch their fish, which are in great quantities among the kelp. Two of the natives were induced to come on board, after they had been alongside for upwards of an hour, and received many presents, for which they gave their spears, a dog, and some of their rude native trinkets. They did not shew or express surprise at anything on board, except when seeing one of the carpenters engaged in boring a hole with a screw-auger through a plank, which would have been a long task for them. They were very talkative, smiling when spoken to, and often bursting into loud laughter, but instantly settling into their natural serious and sober cast.

They were found to be great mimics, both in gesture and sound, and would repeat any word of our language, with great correctness of pronunciation. Their imitations of sounds were truly astonishing.

Their mimicry became at length annoying, and precluded our getting at any of their words or ideas. It not only extended to words or sounds, but actions also, and was at times truly ridiculous. The usual manner of interrogating for names was quite unsuccessful. On pointing to the nose, for instance, they did the same. Anything they saw done they would mimic, and with an extraordinary degree of accuracy. On these canoes approaching the ship, the principal one of the family, or chief, standing up in his canoe, made a harangue. Although they have been heard to shout quite loud, yet they cannot endure a noise; and when the drum beat, or a gun was fired, they invariably stopped their ears. They always speak to each other in a whisper.

The women were never suffered to come on board. They appeared modest in the presence of strangers. They never move from a sitting posture, or rather a squat, with their knees close together, reaching to their chin, their feet in contact, and touching the lower part of the body. They are extremely ugly. Their hands and feet were small and well shaped; and, from appearance, they are not accustomed to do any hard work. They appear very fond and seem careful of their young children, though on several occasions they offered them for sale for a trifle. They have their faces smutted all over, and it was thought, from the hideous appearance of the females, produced in part by their being painted and smutted, that they had been disfigured by the men previous to coming alongside. It was remarked, that when one of them saw herself in a looking-glass, she burst into tears, as Jack thought, from pure mortification.

Before they left the ship, the greater part of them were dressed in old clothes, that had been given to them by the officers and men, who all shewed themselves extremely anxious "to make them comfortable," This gave rise to much merriment, as Jack was not disposed to allow any difficulties to interfere in the fitting. If the jackets proved too tight across the shoulders, which they invariably were, a slit down the back effectually remedied the defect. If a pair of trousers was found too small around the waist, the knife was again resorted to; and in some cases a fit was made by severing the legs. The most difficult fit, and the one which produced the most merriment, was that of a woman, to whom an old coat was given. This, she concluded belonged to her nether limbs, and no signs, hints, or shouts, could correct her mistake. Her feet were thrust through the sleeves, and, after hard squeezing, she succeeded in drawing them on. With the skirts brought up in front, she took her seat in the canoe with great satisfaction, amid a roar of laughter from all who saw her.



CHILIAN MODE OF CAPTURING WILD HORSES.

A party of four or five horsemen, with about twenty dogs, were seen formed in an extended crescent, driving the wild horses towards the river with shouts. All were armed with the lasso, which was swinging over their heads, to be in readiness to entrap the first that attempted to break through the gradually contracting segment; the dogs serving with the riders to head the horses in. They continued to advance, when suddenly a horse with furious speed broke the line, passing near one of the horsemen, and for a moment it was thought he had escaped; the next he was jerked round with a force that seemed sufficient to have broken his neck, the horseman having, the moment the lasso was thrown, turned round and braced himself for the shock. The captured horse now began to rear and plunge furiously to effect his escape. After becoming somewhat worn out, he was suffered to run, and again suddenly checked. This was repeated several times, when another plan was adopted. The dogs were set on him, and off he went at full run, in the direction of another horseman, who threw his lasso to entangle his legs and precipitate him to the ground. The dogs again roused him, when he again started, and was in like manner brought to a stand. After several trials he became completely exhausted and subdued, when he stood perfectly still, and allowed his captors to lay hands upon him. The shouts of the men, the barking of the dogs, and the scampering of the horses, made the whole scene extremely exciting.



FIGHT BETWEEN A WHALE AND A KILLER.

This day, on board the Peacock, they witnessed a sea-fight between a whale and one of its many enemies. The sea was quite smooth, and offered the best possible view of the whole combat. First, at a distance from the ship, a whale was seen floundering in a most extraordinary way, lashing the smooth sea into a perfect foam, and endeavouring apparently to extricate himself from some annoyance. As he approached the ship, the struggle continuing and becoming more violent, it was perceived that a fish, apparently about twenty feet long, held him by the jaw, his contortions, spouting, and throes, all betokening the agony of the huge monster. The whale now threw himself at full length from the water with open mouth, his pursuer still hanging to the jaw, the blood issuing from the wound and dyeing the sea to a distance around; but all his flounderings were of no avail; his pertinacious enemy still maintained his hold, and was evidently getting the advantage of him. Much alarm seemed to be felt by the many other whales around. These "killers," as they are called, are of a brownish colour on the back, and white on the belly, with a long dorsal fin. Such was the turbulence with which they passed, that a good view could not be had of them to make out more nearly the description. These fish attack a whale in the same way as dogs bait a bull, and worry him to death. They are armed with strong sharp teeth, and generally seize the whale by the lower jaw. It is said that the only part of them they eat is the tongue. The whalers give some marvellous accounts of these killers, and of their immense strength; among them, that they have been known to drag a whale away from several boats which were towing it to the ship.



WAR DANCES OF THE NEW ZEALANDERS.

Wishing to see their war-dances, I requested the chief Pomare to gratify us with an exhibition, which he consented to do. The ground chosen was the hillside of Mr. Clendon, our consul's place, where between three and four hundred natives, with their wives and children, assembled. Pomare divided the men into three parties or squads, and stationed these at some distance from each other. Shortly after this was done, I received a message from him, to say that they were all hungry, and wanted me to treat them to something to eat. This was refused until they had finished their dance, and much delay took place in consequence. Pomare and his warriors were at first immoveable; but they, in a short time, determined they would unite on the hill-top, which was accordingly ordered, although I was told they were too hungry to dance well. Here they arranged themselves in a solid column, and began stamping, shouting, jumping, and shaking their guns, clubs, and paddles in the air, with violent gesticulations, to a sort of savage time. A more grotesque group cannot well be imagined; dressed, half-dressed, or entirely naked. After much preliminary action, they all set off, with a frantic shout, at full speed in a war-charge, which not only put to flight all the animals that were feeding in the neighbourhood, but startled the spectators. After running about two hundred and fifty yards, they fired their guns and halted, with another shout. They then returned in the same manner, and stopped before us, a truly savage multitude, wrought up to apparent frenzy, and exhibiting all the modes practised of maiming and killing their enemies, until they became exhausted, and lay down on the ground like tired dogs, panting for breath. One of the chiefs then took an old broken dragoon-sword, and began running to and fro before us, flourishing it, and, at the same time, delivering a speech at the top of his voice. The speech, as interpreted to me, ran thus: "You are welcome, you are our friends, and we are glad to see you," frequently repeated. After three or four had shewn off in this way, they determined they must have something to eat, saying that I had promised them rice and sugar, and they ought to have it. Mr. Clendon, however, persuaded them to give one of their feast-dances. The performers consisted of about fifteen old, and as many young persons, whom they arranged in close order. The young girls laid aside a part of their dress to exhibit their forms to more advantage, and they commenced a kind of recitative, accompanied by all manner of gesticulations, with a sort of guttural husk for a chorus. It was not necessary to understand their language to comprehend their meaning; and it is unnecessary to add, that their tastes did not appear very refined, but were similar to what we have constantly observed among the heathen nations of Polynesia. Their impatience now became ungovernable; and hearing that the rice and sugar were being served out, they retreated precipitately down the hill, where they all set to most heartily, with their wives and children, to devour the food. This, to me, was the most entertaining part of the exhibition. They did not appear selfish towards each other; the children were taken care of, and all seemed to enjoy themselves. I received many thanks in passing among them, and their countenances betokened contentment. Although they were clothed for the occasion in their best, they exhibited but a squalid and dirty appearance, both in their dress and persons.

* * * * *

We now end our extracts from this very entertaining Work,—upon the resources of which we have so largely drawn,—by the history of Paddy Connel, as described by himself, and who had been a resident among the Feejeean savages for nearly forty years.



HISTORY OF PADDY CONNEL.

One day, while at the Observatory, I was greatly surprised at seeing one whom I took to be a Feejeeman, enter my tent, a circumstance so inconsistent with the respect to our prescribed limit, of which I have spoken. His colour, however, struck me as lighter than that of any native I had yet seen. He was a short wrinkled old man, but appeared to possess great vigour and activity. He had a beard that reached to his middle, and but little hair, of a reddish-grey colour, on his head. He gave me no time for inquiry, but at once addressed me in broad Irish, with a rich Milesian brogue. In a few minutes he made me acquainted with his story, which, by his own account, was as follows:—

His name was Paddy Connel, but the natives called him Berry; he was born in the county of Clare, in Ireland; had run away from school when he was a little fellow, and after wandering about as a vagabond, was pressed into the army in the first Irish rebellion. At the time the French landed in Ireland, the regiment to which he was attached marched at once against the enemy, and soon arrived on the field of battle, where they were brought to the charge. The first thing he knew or heard, the drums struck up a White Boy's tune, and his whole regiment went over and joined the French, with the exception of the officers, who had to flee. They were then marched against the British, and were soon defeated by Lord Cornwallis; it was a hard fight, and Paddy found himself among the slain. When he thought the battle was over, and night came on, he crawled off and reached home. He was then taken up and tried for his life, but was acquitted; he was, however, remanded to prison, and busied himself in effecting the escape of some of his comrades. On this being discovered, he was confined in the black hole, and soon after sent to Cork, to be put on board a convict-ship bound to New South Wales. When he arrived there, his name was not found on the books of the prisoners; consequently he had been transported by mistake, and was, therefore, set at liberty. He then worked about for several years, and collected a small sum of money, but unfortunately fell into bad company, got drunk, and lost it all. Just about this time Captain Sartori, of the ship General Wellesley, arrived at Sydney. Having lost a great part of his crew by sickness and desertion, he desired to procure hands for his ship, which was still at Sandalwood Bay, and obtained thirty-five men, one of whom was Paddy Connel. At the time they were ready to depart, a French privateer, Le Gloriant, Captain Dubardieu, put into Sydney, when Captain Sartori engaged a passage for himself and his men to the Feejees. On their way they touched at Norfolk Island, where the ship struck, and damaged her keel so much that they were obliged to put into the Bay of Islands for repairs. Paddy asserts that a difficulty had occurred here between Captain Sartori and his men about their provisions, which was amicably settled. The Gloriant finally sailed from New Zealand for Tongataboo, where they arrived just after the capture of a vessel, which he supposed to have been the Port au Prince, as they had obtained many articles from the natives, which had evidently belonged to some large vessel. Here they remained some months, and then sailed for Sandalwood Bay, where the men, on account of their former quarrel with Captain Sartori, refused to go on board the General Wellesley: some of them shipped on board the Gloriant, and others, with Paddy, determined to remain on shore with the natives. He added, that Captain Sartori was kind to him, and at parting had given him a pistol, cutlass, and an old good-for-nothing musket; these, with his sea-chest and a few clothes, were all that he possessed. He had now lived forty years among these savages. After hearing his whole story, I told him I did not believe a word of it; to which he answered, that the main part of it was true, but he might have made some mistakes, as he had been so much in the habit of lying to the Feejeeans, that he hardly now knew when he told the truth, adding, that he had no desire to tell anything but the truth.

Paddy turned out to be a very amusing fellow, and possessed an accurate knowledge of the Feejee character. Some of the whites told me that he was more than half Feejee; indeed he seemed to delight in shewing how nearly he was allied to them in feeling and propensities; and, like them, seemed to fix his attention upon trifles. He gave me a droll account of his daily employments, which it would be inappropriate to give here, and finished by telling me the only wish he had then, was to get for his little boy, on whom he doated, a small hatchet; and the only articles he had to offer for it were a few old hens. On my asking him if he did not cultivate the ground, he said at once no; he found it much easier to get his living by telling the Feejeeans stories, which he could always make good enough for them;—these, and the care of his two little boys, and his hens, and his pigs, when he had any, gave him ample employment and plenty of food. He had lived much at Rewa, and, until lately, had been a resident at Levuka, but had, in consequence of his intrigues, been expelled by the white residents, to the island of Ambatiki. It appeared that they had unanimously come to the conclusion, that if he did not remove, they would be obliged to put him to death for their own safety. I could not induce Whippy or Tom to give me the circumstances that occasioned this determination; and Paddy would not communicate more than that his residence on Ambatiki was a forced one, and that it was as though he was living out of the world, rearing pigs, fowls, and children. Of the last description of live stock he had forty-eight, and hoped that he might live to see fifty born to him. He had had one hundred wives.



Extraordinary Escape from Drowning.

The following Narrative of an extraordinary escape from drowning, after being wrecked among the Rapids of the St. Lawrence, first appeared in the Liverpool Mercury, the Editors of which state that they have published it by permission of the writer, who is a well-known merchant of great respectability in that city. We have extracted it from the pages of the Edinburgh Magazine, the Editor of which remarks,—"We have been induced to transfer it into our Miscellany, not merely from the uncommon interest of the detail, but because we happen to be able to vouch for its authenticity."

On the 22nd day of April, 1810, our party set sail in a large schooner from Fort-George, or Niagara Town, and in two days crossed Lake Ontario to Kingston, at the head of the river St. Lawrence, distant from Niagara about 200 miles. Here we hired an American barge (a large flat-bottomed boat) to carry us to Montreal, a further distance of 200 miles; then set out from Kingston on the 28th of April, and arrived the same evening at Ogdensburgh, a distance of 75 miles. The following evening we arrived at Cornwall, and the succeeding night at Pointe du Lac, on Lake St. Francis. Here our bargemen obtained our permission to return up the river; and we embarked in another barge, deeply laden with potashes, passengers, and luggage. Above Montreal, for nearly 100 miles, the river St. Lawrence is interrupted in its course by rapids, which are occasioned by the river being confined in comparatively narrow, shallow, rocky channels;—through these it rushes with great force and noise, and is agitated like the ocean in a storm. Many people prefer these rapids, for grandeur of appearance, to the Falls of Niagara. They are from half a mile to nine miles long each, and require regular pilots. On the 30th of April we arrived at the village of the Cedars, immediately below which are three sets of very dangerous rapids (the Cedars, the Split-rock, and the Cascades), distant from each other about one mile. On the morning of the 1st of May we set out from the Cedars, the barge very deep and very leaky. The captain, a daring rash man, refused to take a pilot. After we passed the Cedar rapid, not without danger, the captain called for some rum, swearing, at the same time, that —— could not steer the barge better than he did! Soon after this we entered the Split-rock rapids by a wrong channel, and found ourselves advancing rapidly towards a dreadful watery precipice, down which we went. The barge slightly grazed her bottom against the rock, and the fall was so great as to nearly take away the breath. We here took in a great deal of water, which was mostly baled out again before we were hurried on to what the Canadians call the "grand bouillon," or great boiling. In approaching this place the captain let go the helm, saying, "Here we fill!" The barge was almost immediately overwhelmed in the midst of immense foaming breakers, which rushed over the bows, carrying away planks, oars, &c. About half a minute elapsed between the filling and going down of the barge, during which I had sufficient presence of mind to rip off my three coats, and was loosening my suspenders, when the barge sunk, and I found myself floating in the midst of people, baggage, &c. Each man caught hold of something; one of the crew caught hold of me, and kept me down under water, but, contrary to my expectation, let me go again. On rising to the surface, I got hold of a trunk, on which two other men were then holding. Just at this spot, where the Split-rock rapids terminate, the bank of the river is well inhabited; and we could see women on shore running about much agitated. A canoe put off, and picked up three of our number, who had gained the bottom of the barge, which had upset and got rid of its cargo; these they landed on an island. The canoe put off again, and was approaching near to where I was, with two others, holding on by the trunk, when, terrified with the vicinity of the Cascades, to which we were approaching, it put back, notwithstanding my exhortations, in French and English, to induce the two men on board to advance. The bad hold which one man had of the trunk, to which we were adhering, subjected him to constant immersion; and, in order to escape his seizing hold of me, I let go the trunk, and, in conjunction with another man, got hold of the boom, (which, with the gaff, sails, &c., had been detached from the mast, to make room for the cargo,) and floated off. I had just time to grasp this boom, when we were hurried into the Cascades; in these I was instantly buried, and nearly suffocated. On rising to the surface, I found one of my hands still on the boom, and my companion also adhering to the gaff. Shortly after descending the Cascades, I perceived the barge, bottom upwards, floating near me. I succeeded in getting to it, and held by a crack in one end of it; the violence of the water, and the falling out of the casks of ashes, had quite wrecked it. For a long time I contented myself with this hold, not daring to endeavour to get upon the bottom, which I at length effected; and from this, my new situation, I called out to my companion, who still preserved his hold of the gaff. He shook his head; and, when the waves suffered me to look up again, he was gone. He made no attempt to come near me, being unable or unwilling to let go his hold, and trust himself to the waves, which were then rolling over his head.

The Cascades are a kind of fall, or rapid descent, in the river, over a rocky channel below: going down is called, by the French, "Sauter," to leap or shove the cascades. For two miles below, the channel continues in uproar, just like a storm at sea; and I was frequently nearly washed off the barge by the waves which rolled over. I now entertained no hope whatever of escaping; and although I continued to exert myself to hold on, such was the state to which I was reduced by cold, that I wished only for speedy death, and frequently thought of giving up the contest as useless. I felt as if compressed into the size of a monkey; my hands appeared diminished in size one-half; and I certainly should (after I became cold and much exhausted) have fallen asleep, but for the waves that were passing over me, and obliged me to attend to my situation. I had never descended the St. Lawrence before, but I knew there were more rapids a-head, perhaps another set of the Cascades, but at all events the La Chine rapids, whose situation I did not exactly know. I was in hourly expectation of these putting an end to me, and often fancied some points of ice extending from the shore to be the head of foaming rapids. At one of the moments in which the succession of waves permitted me to look up, I saw at a distance a canoe with four men coming towards me, and waited in confidence to hear the sound of their paddles; but in this I was disappointed; the men, as I afterwards learnt, were Indians (genuine descendants of the Tartars) who, happening to fall in with one of the passenger's trunks, picked it up, and returned to shore for the purpose of pillaging it, leaving, as they since acknowledged, the man on the boat to his fate. Indeed, I am certain I should have had more to fear from their avarice, than to hope from their humanity; and it is more than probable, that my life would have been taken to secure them in the possession of my watch and several half-eagles, which I had about me.

The accident happened at eight o'clock in the morning. In the course of some hours, as the day advanced, the sun grew warmer, the wind blew from the south, and the water became calmer. I got upon my knees, and found myself in the small lake St. Louis, about from three to five miles wide; with some difficulty I got upon my feet, but was soon convinced, by cramps and spasms in all my sinews, that I was quite incapable of swimming any distance, and I was then two miles from shore. I was now going, with wind and current, to destruction; and cold, hungry, and fatigued, was obliged again to sit down in the water to rest, when an extraordinary circumstance greatly relieved me. On examining the wreck, to see if it was possible to detach any part of it to steer by, I perceived something loose, entangled in a fork of the wreck, and so carried along. This I found to be a small trunk, bottom upwards, which, with some difficulty, I dragged up upon the barge. After near an hour's work, in which I broke my pen-knife, trying to cut out the lock, I made a hole in the top, and, to my great satisfaction, drew out a bottle of rum, a cold tongue, some cheese, and a bag full of bread, cakes, &c., all wet. Of these I made a very seasonable, though very moderate use, and the trunk answered the purpose of a chair to sit upon, elevated above the surface of the water.

After in vain endeavouring to steer the wreck, or direct its course to the shore, and having made every signal (with my waistcoat, &c.) in my power, to the several headlands which I had passed, I fancied I was driving into a bay, which, however, soon proved to be the termination of the lake, and the opening of the river, the current of which was carrying me rapidly along. I passed several small uninhabited islands; but the banks of the river appearing to be covered with houses, I again renewed my signals with my waistcoat and a shirt, which I took out of the trunk, hoping, as the river narrowed, they might be perceived; the distance was too great. The velocity with which I was going convinced me of my near approach to the dreadful rapids of La Chine. Night was drawing on; my destruction appeared certain, but did not disturb me very much: the idea of death had lost its novelty, and become quite familiar. Finding signals in vain, I now set up a cry or howl, such as I thought best calculated to carry to a distance, and, being favoured by the wind, it did, although at above a mile distance, reach the ears of some people on shore. At last I perceived a boat rowing towards me, which, being very small and white-bottomed, I had some time taken for a fowl with a white breast; and I was taken off the barge by Captain Johnstone, after being ten hours on the water. I found myself at the village of La Chine, 21 miles below where the accident happened, and having been driven by the winding of the current a much greater distance. I received no other injury than bruised knees and breast, with a slight cold. The accident took some hold of my imagination, and, for seven or eight succeeding nights, in my dreams, I was engaged in the dangers of the Cascades, and surrounded by drowning men.

My escape was owing to a concurrence of fortunate circumstances, which appear almost providential. I happened to catch hold of various articles of support, and to exchange each article for another just at the right time. Nothing but the boom could have carried me down the Cascades without injury; and nothing but the barge could have saved me below them. I was also fortunate in having the whole day. Had the accident happened one hour later, I should have arrived opposite the village of La Chine after dark, and, of course, would have been destroyed in the rapids below, to which I was rapidly advancing. The trunk which furnished me with provisions and a resting-place above the water, I have every reason to think, was necessary to save my life; without it I must have passed the whole time in the water, and been exhausted with cold and hunger. When the people on shore saw our boat take the wrong channel, they predicted our destruction: the floating luggage, by supporting us for a time, enabled them to make an exertion to save us; but as it was not supposed possible to survive the passage of the Cascades, no further exertions were thought of, nor indeed could they well have been made.

It was at this very place that General Ambert's brigade of 300 men, coming to attack Canada, was lost; the French at Montreal received the first intelligence of the invasion, by the dead bodies floating past the town. The pilot who conducted the first batteaux, committing the same error that we did, ran for the wrong channel, and the other batteaux following close, all were involved in the same destruction. The whole party with which I was escaped; four left the barge at the Cedar village, above the rapids, and went to Montreal by land; two more were saved by the canoe; the barge's crew, all accustomed to labour, were lost. Of the eight men who passed down the Cascades, none but myself escaped, or were seen again; nor indeed was it possible for any one, without my extraordinary luck, and the aid of the barge, to which they must have been very close, to have escaped; the other men must have been drowned immediately on entering the Cascades. The trunks, &c., to which they adhered, and the heavy great-coats which they had on, very probably helped to overwhelm them; but they must have gone at all events; swimming in such a current of broken stormy waves was impossible. Still I think my knowing how to swim kept me more collected, and rendered me more willing to part with one article of support to gain a better. Those who could not swim would naturally cling to whatever hold they first got, and, of course, many had very bad ones. The Captain passed me above the Cascades, on a sack of woollen clothes, which were doubtless soon saturated and sunk.

The trunk which I picked up belonged to a young man from Upper Canada, who was one of those drowned; it contained clothes, and about L70 in gold, which was restored to his friends. My own trunk contained, besides clothes, about L200 in gold and bank notes. On my arrival at La Chine, I offered a reward of 100 dollars, which induced a Canadian to go in search of it. He found it, some days after, on the shore of an island on which it had been driven, and brought it to La Chine, where I happened to be at the time. I paid him his reward, and understood that above one-third of it was to be immediately applied to the purchase of a certain number of masses which he had vowed, in the event of success, previous to his setting out on the search.

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Adventure in the Desert, and Murder of a Sheikh.

I was awakened for a few minutes, as early as three o'clock on the following morning, by the sound of many voices in loud and earnest conversation, amongst which I recognised that of Sheikh Suleiman; but as noisy conversations at such early hours are by no means uncommon with these restless spirits of the wilderness, I gave no heed to it, and composed myself for sleep again, intending to rise by about half after four, in order to get a dip in the Red Sea, before resuming the march; and this intention I fulfilled; but just while throwing on the few clothes I had taken with me, I heard suddenly a loud strife of many tongues bursting forth, not in our encampment, but in a small copse or grove of palm trees, about two hundred yards distant. At once the thought rushed upon my mind, that the Mezzeni had overtaken us, and were meditating an attack, now that we were so near the place of their main encampment. This was directly confirmed by the sound of a gun-shot in the palm-grove, which was soon followed up by a second. I ran up towards the encampment as rapidly as possible; and just as I reached it, another shot rang awfully upon my ear. I found our party in a state of the greatest consternation, and gathered closely together, gazing wildly towards the grove. The first thing I learnt, was the harrowing fact, that poor Suleiman had just been murdered by the Mezzeni! It was an astounding announcement. To what would this desperate blow lead—here, in the Desert? The prospect of further bloodshed was terrible. It would have been insupportable, but for the influence of that inward calmness which is the privilege of the children of God. We were braced up for the worst, and stood gazing upon the scene, in full expectation that out of a deep and deadly spirit of revenge, we should be immediately overpowered by the enemy, and held entirely at their mercy—as any shew of defence against so many as had now come down upon us, would have been utterly futile, and might have led to the destruction of us all. How wild and desolate this awful theatre of death appeared, while, with the sound of gun-shots still vibrating in our ears, we thought of Suleiman writhing in his death-throes, and anxiously watched the movements of the murderers. We were motionless—almost breathless. Each man among us gazed silently upon his fellow. Our suspense was not of great duration, but long enough to get the heart secretly lifted up in communion with a God of mercy. And there was sweet peacefulness in that brief exercise.... My worst fears were groundless. The hearts of all men are in God's hands. Our helplessness must have been a powerful matter of temptation to the blood-stained men, over whom the departed soul of Suleiman was hovering. But God restrained them....

Having slaughtered their victim, the Mezzeni (of whom above forty were counted), quietly marched back towards Nuweibia, without exchanging even a word with us; leaving behind them the corpse of poor Suleiman—a sad memorial of their malignant vengeance; while several others of their tribe, who had been lying in ambush beyond the scene of terror, came forth from their hiding-places, and joined their retreating comrades.

My heart almost sickens at the recollection of this dreadful transaction, while referring to the notes made on the spot, and compiling from them the particulars of this sad page.

As soon as the enemy had fairly departed, I took Hassenein with me, and advanced carefully towards the copse of palm trees, where I found the mangled body of poor Suleiman quite dead, but with the agony of the death-pang still visible on his sunburnt and swarthy features. It was a terrible sight, thus to behold the leader and confidential companion of our wild route, lying as the clods of the valley, and saturated with his own life-blood. And how, in a Christian's heart, was the sense of the sad reality heightened, by knowing that the poor sufferer was a follower of the false prophet—a Mahommedan—ignorant of Him who was "delivered for our offences, and raised again for our justification." I have seen death in many forms; but I never beheld it with so dread an aspect as it here assumed.

I was more than half inclined to withhold the minute particulars of the dark tragedy, when arriving at this part of my narrative; but they now fasten themselves upon my mind, and I feel constrained to leave them on record.

Suleiman had received three balls through his body, and four sabre-gashes on his head, which was also nearly severed from the trunk; and his right arm, which had been evidently raised in an attempt at warding off a blow, was all but divided near the wrist. We returned to the encampment, where our Arabs were sitting together, still terrified. At length a few of them who volunteered their aid, went and washed the body—wrapped it in an unfolded turban, and prepared it for immediate interment. They hastily formed a resting-place, about a mile upwards, towards the hills which skirted the plain in which we were encamped, by raising four walls of large loose stones. Having made all ready, they brought up the remains of their leader, laid across the back of his camel, and, with deep emotion, deposited them in their final abode, arching it over with large masses of stone, and quitting it with what appeared to me like deep expressions of vengeance against the tribe, on which lay the guilt of his murder.

I turned away from the tomb with a heavy heart.... Was my way to the Holy City of my God to be tracked with blood?

On making a careful inquiry into the particulars immediately connected with this sad catastrophe, I collected the following:—It appeared, that while we were resting on the previous day at Wadey el Ayun, the Mezzeni came down in order to make a final effort at supporting, without bloodshed, their claim to conduct travellers through their territory to Akabah. Sheikh Furriqh was of the number, as I have already stated. When he was about to retire, after an unsuccessful attempt, an Arab of his tribe came and secretly informed him that his (Furriqh's) nephew had been shot on the previous day by one of Suleiman's tribe, in reference to the very question then pending. On receiving this information, Furriqh at once broke off all negotiation, and quitted the encampment. It is believed that Suleiman never knew the fact which had been communicated to Furriqh; but news was brought to him that the Mezzeni intended to pursue us with an increased force; and this quite accounts for all the anxiety and timidity which he evinced during the afternoon and evening preceding his death. It appears that the Mezzeni, bent on accomplishing their purpose, gathered together their force, and, following us at dromedary speed, arrived at the encampment as early as two o'clock in the morning—that a deputation from them came to Suleiman, while some of the rest remained in the palm-grove, and others went in advance, and formed ambuscades—that Sheikh Furriqh was one of the deputation—that Suleiman shewed them the usual hospitality of breaking bread with them—that the conference ended without any adjustment of the matter in dispute—that after the deputation had retired to the copse, two Arabs of a neutral tribe, who had come with us from Mount Sinai, went to the Mezzeni in order to mediate, but were unsuccessful—that while they remained Suleiman was sent for, and that having broken bread with the Mezzeni, he had a right to expect that his life would be held sacred—that Suleiman had scarcely reached the adverse party, when Sheikh Furriqh said—"We do not care about the money, but there is blood between us;"—that instantly one of the Mezzeni shot him through the body, and that Furriqh cut him down with his sabre, while two other shots which were fired took effect upon him. My recollection of Furriqh, from the first moment that he appeared in our caravan, is such as to convince me that he would readily commit such an act as this—so subtle—so cruel—so cowardly—without one feeling of remorse or misgiving.



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