As the whites came up, she regained strength enough to wave her hand in token of recognition, and appeared desirous of giving them some information, with regard to the enemy, but her strength was too far gone. Her brother sprang from his horse and endeavored to stop the effusion of blood, but in vain. She gave him her hand, muttered some inarticulate words, and expired.



THRILLING INCIDENT.

In mid-winter about four years since, says Miss Martineau, in her Norway and the Norwegians, a young man named Hund, was sent by his master on an errand about twenty miles, to carry provisions to a village in the upper country. The village people asked him for charity, to carry three orphan children on his sledge a few miles on his way to Bergen, and to leave them at a house on the road, when they would be taken care of until they could be brought from Bergen. He took the little things, and saw that the two elder were well wrapped up from the cold. The third he took within his arms and on his knee, as he drove, clasping it warm against his breast—so those say who saw them set off, and it is confirmed by one who met the sledge on the road, and heard the children prattling to Hund, and Hund laughing merrily at their little talk. Before they got half way, however, a pack of hungry wolves, burst out upon them from a hollow in the thicket to the right of the wood. The beasts followed close to the back of the sledge. Closer and closer the wolves pressed. Hund saw one about to spring at his throat. It was impossible for the horse to go faster than he did, for he went like the wind—so did the wolves. Hund in desperation, snatched up one of the children behind him, and threw it over the back of the sledge. This stopped the pack a little. On galloped the horse. But the wolves were soon crowded around again, with the blood freezing to their muzzles. It was easier to throw over the second child than the first—and Hund did it. But on came again the infuriated beasts—gaunt with hunger, and raging like fiends for the prey. It was harder to give up the third—the dumb infant that nestled in his breast, but Hund was in mortal terror. Again the hot breath of the wolves was upon him. He threw a way the infant and saved himself. Away over the snow flew the sledge, the village was reached, and Hund just escaped after all the sacrifice he had made. But he was unsettled and wild, and his talk, for some time whenever he did speak, night or day, was of wolves—so fearful had been the effect upon his imagination.



ADVENTURES

OF REV. DR. BACON AND HIS PARTY, AMONG THE MOUNTAINS OF PERSIA.

Dr. Bacon and Rev. Mr. Marsh, attempted to cross from the city of Mosul, on the Tigris, to Oroomiah, the residence of the Nestorian Christians. On their passage through the Kurdish mountains, they were robbed, and narrowly escaped being murdered, and were finally forced to return to Mosul.

Dr. Bacon, after describing their departure from Diarbekr, says:

"I defer to another time the description of our romantic and picturesque passage down the Tigris. By the care of Providence, our whole party completed this stage, as they had completed the previous and more fatiguing ones, in safety and comfortable health. We arrived in Mosul on the 16th of May, in seven days from Diarbekr, and immediately set about making preparations for continuing our journey into the mountains.

"The engaging of mules, the hiring of servants, and the preparation of provisions, detained us in Mosul until Wednesday, the 21st of May. The meantime was spent by us in visiting the excavations on the opposite side of the river. In the mound of Koyunjik, we followed our guide through a labyrinth of narrow corridors, lighted dimly by occasional openings in the firm clay overhead. Some of the sculptures were described in Mr. Leyard's volumes; others have been since unearthed, and some most interesting galleries had just been left by the picks of the workmen. Time, at present, does not permit me to describe them; but I may mention as among the most interesting of the recent discoveries, a succession of slabs carved with a representation of the original transportation of the great winged bulls which adorned the stately entrances of the palaces of Ninus and Sardanapalus. A collection of small, inscribed stones, has also been found, supposed to contain public records; and, but a day or two ago, the workmen brought in the report of new and still grander sculptures just discovered.

"We had expected to start on Wednesday at sunrise; but various petty hindrances detained us until late in the afternoon. We then united in prayer with the family in whose cares, anxieties, and dangers we had shared through so many weary weeks, and hastened to our saddles. Passing the Tigris by a rude ferry, we rode in the setting sunlight by the once mysterious mounds of Koyunjik. The reapers who were still busy within the grassy walls of fallen Ninevah, came up to us as we passed, with their sickles on their heads, to present the offering of the first fruits of harvest. We hurried on, however, and stopped for the night at a small village little more than an hour from the gate of Mosul."

On the third day they reached the town of Akkre, among the mountains, where they were obliged to stay three days, waiting for the Kurdish muleteers. They performed the Sabbath service in a cavern of the mountain which the native christians had fitted up as a secret chapel. Leaving Akkre on Monday morning, the 26th of May, they entered the most dangerous part of the mountains. Mr. B. says:

"We spent this day's nooning by a spring that bursts out near the top of a steep mountain, and ate our dinner under a tree that distilled upon the rocks a fragrant gum. Mounting again at two o'clock, in half an hour we reached the summit, whence we looked down a giddy descent upon the swift but winding Zab. Here it became necessary to leave our animals, and work our way down the almost precipitous road, while the mules slid, scrambled, and tumbled after us as best they might. As I was pushing on a little in advance of the party, I was met, in a narrow turn of the path, by an old bearded man, with a dagger in his girdle, who reached out his hand toward me. I was uncertain at first how to understand it; but his only object was to press my hand to his lips with a fervent 'salam aleikum' (Peace be with you,) to which I responded, according to usual form, 'aleikum salam,' (with you be peace.) Meeting with others of his party, they asked us if we were Nesrani, (Nazarenes—Christians,) and saluted us with the same respect, going some distance back on their path with us to show us a cool water spring. 'They then went their ways, and we saw them no more;' but I shall not easily forget the satisfaction which they showed in recognizing us as fellow believers here in the land of the infidel, and the kindness with which they went out of their way to offer us a 'cup of cold water in the name of a disciple.'"

That night they spent on the banks of the river Zab. The next day, after traversing a wild pass, hemmed in by perpendicular rocks, more than a thousand feet in hight, they reached the village of Bizeh, in a valley of the mountains, and secured a house-top for the night:

"About the middle of the night, Mr. Marsh was waked by a slight noise, and, lifting his head, saw a party of five or six armed men creeping stealthily toward our roof, which, on the side toward the hill on which they were, was only four or five feet from the ground. The foremost man stopped short for a moment at Mr. Marsh's movement, and turning to his followers, called out 'Khawaja!' (the gentlemen!) Then seeing that our old guard was asleep at the stepping stone, he climbed upon the roof at another corner, and stood for a moment with his long gun at his side. Mr. Marsh raised himself upon his arm, and demanded in Arabic, 'What do you want?' The man probably did not understand the language: at any rate, he made no answer, but turned to the old man, and conversed earnestly with him in a low tone. The other men gathered near them, as if to listen and take part. But they all finally went away without doing any mischief."

The next morning the sentinel who had kept watch over their baggage attempted to dissuade them from going the direct road, as the people of the next village had heard of their coming, and were determined to kill them. However, they kept on; and, in the course of two or three hours, their guide was stopped by a company of six armed men:

"The place was admirably chosen for the purpose. The narrow path along the cliff by which we had come, here widened into a little platform large enough for our mules to stand upon together. In front of us, a ledge of broken rocks jutted from the mountain and ran down, crossing our path, and leaving only a very small passage. In front of this path stood our challengers. Six worse-looking men, whether in form, dress, or feature, it would be difficult to imagine. Each man wore around his high, conical felt hat, a turban of handkerchiefs of every hue and texture; in his hand a long gun with short and narrow breech; and in his belt the universal Kurdish curved and two-edged dagger. The leader of the gang was a man of middle age, with black eyes and a grisly, untrimmed beard, and with half his front teeth knocked out."

After some discussion, the robbers consented to allow them to pass, on the payment of fifty piastres, (two dollars and a half,) which they agreed to do, provided they were conducted to the house of the Agha. The robbers objected to this, and, provoked by the delay, leveled their guns at the party. At this juncture, the chief muleteer advanced the necessary money, and they were spared.

"These transactions, from the time we were stopped, occupied about an hour. We now passed with our ragged regiment straggling around us, now with their long guns under our ears, and now cutting off the long bends of our crooked and little used path. In about ten minutes from the pass, we were hailed by another party, posted upon a hillside, and a discussion of many minutes ensued between them and our escort, in which our Kurdish muleteers took an active part. The result was, that we moved on with an addition of two men to our guard. We soon began to perceive that we were going toward the Agha rather as prisoners than as guests. The castle, (if it may be dignified by the name,) which was now in sight, was of no promising appearance. It was a rude, rectangular building, with a small white tower at one corner, on which the workmen were still engaged. It was situated on the side of a hill which formed the head of a valley opening into the ravine we had just left. The small windows and the roof were crowded with men, women, and children, gazing at our singular cavalcade. As we drew near, some women who were bathing in a brook, rose, and gazed at us with irrepressible curiosity. We stopped at the door of the castle.

"Here the assault began. The men of our guard flew like savage dogs at our servants: Khudhr and Ablahad seized the arms which were girded about them, slashing furiously with their daggers, to cut the straps of their guns and pistols. The turbans were torn from their heads, and appropriated among the rabble. Similar violence was about to be shown us, when these operations were suddenly interrupted by the appearance, from the castle, of Melul Agha.

"He was a man taller by several inches than any of his tribe, and with an expression of face which was that of one accustomed to be obeyed, He was dressed in a more elegant style than could have been expected in these mountains; wearing upon his head a turban of gray silk, and a long rifle slung from his shoulders. With a melo-dramatic wave of his hand, which was at once obeyed, he motioned his noisy tribe to desist, and, approaching us, pointed out a tree, a few hundred feet up the hill, to which we might retire. As we moved alone toward this spot, a grim suspicion of his intentions crossed our minds. Might it not be for convenience in dispatching us, that we had been removed? We seated ourselves quietly in the shade, and watched the proceedings. The property of the muleteers and donkey-drivers had been unloaded and placed by itself. One of our loads had been thrown from the mule, and the other was now brought near us, taken from the animal, and laid under a neighboring tree. Mr. Marsh now went down toward the castle to assist Khudhr in bringing the rest of our property toward the tree. This done, Khudhr returned to the crowd to learn what he could of their intentions. He soon came back to us in evident terror, and said, with a significant motion of his hand, that they were intending to kill us."

After sending the servant a second time, he came back with the announcement that the Agha would examine their baggage, take what he pleased, and send them on to another Agha; but would not allow them to return to Mosul.

This examination was soon made, and the party was plundered of one thousand piasters, (forty-four dollars,) besides razors, knives, and a quantity of clothing.

The whole affair was conducted with a politeness of manner which was highly creditable to the Agha, and calculated to put us very much at our ease. He showed himself, in every thing,

——"As mild a mannered man As ever scuttled ship, or cut a throat"

For instance, in searching our trunk, his eye was caught by a small, sealed parcel, which I supposed to contain jewelry; I immediately told him, through a servant, that it was not mine, but had been given to me, in America, to be delivered in Europe. He immediately put it down, and proceeded with the search.

"During these operations, several women, some from curiosity, others from pity, had gathered around us. Among the latter class, was one, who, from her dress, beauty, and demeanor, could be no other than the wife of the Agha. She was dressed in a faded, but once magnificent robe, and trowsers of silk, and wore upon her head a massive and elaborately-carved ornament of silver. She moved among the fierce and blood-thirsty savages, with an air of mingled scorn and anxiety, reproaching them with the shame of the transaction, and pleading earnestly that our lives and property be spared. She warned them, also, that our injuries would inevitably be visited upon their heads.

"Having finished his search, the Agha, with the old men of the tribe, gathered on a ledge of rocks, just behind us, and consulted long and earnestly. We sat down and dined with what appetite we could muster."

After the robbers had come to their decision, a second search of the baggage took place, which Mr. Bacon thus describes:

"The pressure of greater and more important dangers had made me quite resigned to such petty losses as these, and I watched, with much amusement, the appropriation of unusual articles. A black silk cravat which had seen much service in New Haven drawing-rooms, was twisted about the suspicious-looking head of an uncommonly dirty boy. A pair of heavy riding-boots were transferred to the shoulders of a youth who bore the 'gallows mark' upon his features with unmistakable distinctness. A satin vest of Mr. Marsh's was circulating through the crowd, on the person of a dirty child, who boasted no other wealth but a ragged shirt and a green pomegranate. I looked at the youngster with a smile of congratulation; but he turned upon his heel and strutted gravely away, his new garment trailing on the ground at every step.

"Having lightened our baggage considerably at this haul, they proceeded to search our persons. It had been our first movement, on being placed by ourselves, to transfer our watches, together with a locket,—all priceless memorials of distant or departed friends—from the waistcoat to the pantaloons fob; a pocket compass attached to my watchguard, was cared for; likewise, the little note-book in which I was accustomed to place the map of each day's journey. We knew not how soon we might be wandering in the mountains on foot, and without a guide. Dr. Bacon had with him two English sovereigns, and we were uncertain what to do with them. If we should openly give them to the robbers, we dreaded the effect of the auri sacra fames. If discovered in a secret place, we might be stripped in the search for more. The attempt to conceal them in the earth might be perilous. They were finally placed in the waistcoat fob, from which the watch had been taken, with the hope that the clumsy Kurds might overlook it.

"They began with me. The Agha, with an irresistible smile and bow of apology, passed his hand about my waist, feeling for a money belt, then over my dress; finding that one of my breeches' pockets was full, he motioned me to empty it, and seemed satisfied when I drew out a handkerchief and a pair of gloves. Dr. Bacon was then searched, even more superficially; but as the hand passed over the waistcoat pocket, something jingled. I held my breath as Dr. B. put in his hand and drew out a seal, which he had bought at Mosul as an antique Upon Mr. Marsh, the Agha found a gold pencil case, which pleased him wonderfully. On being told of its use, he scrawled with the pencil on the beyur-haldeh, an autograph, for which I have a peculiar value. The mystery of this was, that he restored the pencil, with a grin of self-righteousness, to Mr. Marsh."

After waiting some time in suspense, the travelers were suffered to leave, in charge of a Kurdish guard:

"It soon became evident that we were not on the road to Oroomiah. Whither we were going, was a matter of painful mystery. At the distance of more than a mile, as we passed a village, a single Christian, a man of Akkre, came out in a crowd of curious villagers, to offer his sympathy. As each of us passed him, he bowed, with his head to the ground, and with the strongest expression of regard, urged us to remain with him there, as he would guarantee our safety. It was not for us, however, to say, and we pressed forward; but Khudhr soon brought us the intelligence, which he had obtained here, that we were being led to the village of a Mullah, a very holy man, under whose protection we might feel entirely secure. He added, that toward Oroomiah it would be quite impossible to go; our only escape was toward Mosul."

The Mullah received them kindly, entertained them a day in his house, where all the diseased persons in the neighborhood were brought for them to cure, and started with them early on the morning of the 30th of May, to accompany them on their way back to Mosul. On reaching a village, toward noon, a scene took place, which is of so much interest that we give Mr. Bacon's account of it in full:

"We were assisted from our horses by a remarkably ill-looking set of men, whom we supposed to have come out to see us from curiosity. An unprepossessing young gentleman, with a scar that divided his nose and his upper lip, and a silver-mounted dagger, took a seat near the Mullah, and a violent discussion immediately commenced, of the drift of which, we were, happily, ignorant. Soon, another party of villagers appeared, headed by another young man, who was quite the counterpart of the first, even to the scar in his lip; but his dagger-hilt and sheath were of solid silver, set with precious stones, and the long ringlets which hung upon his shoulders, were still more daintily curled. The arrival of this reinforcement renewed the violence of the discussion, between the Mullah on one side, and the young men on the other. It plainly related to us, and the fierce looks of the Kurds, as they walked to and fro with their hands on their daggers, would have alarmed us, had we not had full confidence in the power and good will of our friend. The controversy had a good deal subsided, when the approach of still another party renewed it once more. The Agha himself was coming. He was a man of fifty years, with a once gray beard, dyed a bright red, and with his lower eyebrows stained a livid blue-black. He greeted us with a ferocious smile, and entered at once into earnest conversation with Mullah Mustafa. The conversation was interrupted, now and then, by one of his amiable sons leaping from his seat, and speaking violently, to the great apparent satisfaction of the crowd.

"We soon learned the nature of these discussions from Khudr, who had been an attentive and agitated listener to the whole. The respectable old gentleman, it seems, had sent his first son to murder us, placing the second at a convenient distance to assist him. The latter, surprised that the business lagged, came up to see to it. And the Agha himself, finding that business lagged, came finally to attend to it himself. The Mullah urged the danger of injuring persons of consequence. 'The sword of the Frank is long,' said he. But this argument was without effect. Mustafa then appealed to him not to disgrace his hospitality. These men were under his own protection, and he would not see them wronged. This argument also failed. He now urged that we were men of influence at Mosul, and were going direct to Constantinople; that, by securing our influence against his colleague and rival, Melul Agha, he might secure a perpetual supremacy in the district of Sherwan.

"This plea gained the case; the eyes of the old savage glistened with diabolical satisfaction as he thought of the villainous trick he was about to play upon his rival. He drew from his bosom a letter and handed it to the Mullah, who read it and handed it to our servant. It was written by Melul Agha, to Khan Abdul, our present host, directing him to take the rest of our property, and murder us without fail. This letter had been written on the blank page of another letter, sent to Melul Agha, by Mustafa Agha, of Ziba, who resides at Akkre. It was the last scoundrel who had sent letters in advance of us into the mountains, inviting them to murder us—and this, all for the sake of making a little impression on the government at Mosul."

After these hair-breadth escapes from murder, the party returned in safety to Mosul.



A BATTLE WITH SNAKES.

Since the exhibitions in London of the two Hindoo snake-charmers—the first we believe who ever visited Europe—everything relating to serpents seems to have acquired additional interest. Many facts regarding the nature and habits of the various species have been published, affording much information and still greater astonishment.

Waterton, in his "Wanderings in South America and the Antilles, in 1812-24," relates some stories of so marvellous a character, that, coming from a less authentic source, their truth might be reasonably doubted.

While in the region of Mibri Hill, Mr. Waterton long sought in vain for a serpent of large size, and finally, offered a reward to the negroes if they would find him one. A few days afterward one of the natives, followed by his little dog, came to him with the information that a snake of respectable dimensions had been discovered a short distance up the hill; and armed with an eight feet lance, and accompanied by two negroes with cutlasses and the dog, he at once started to take a look at it. Mr. Waterton states that he was barefoot, with an old hat, check shirt and trousers on, and a pair of braces to keep them up. His snakeship was pointed out as lying at the roots of a large tree which had been torn up by a whirlwind. But the remainder of the story shall be given in the traveler's own words:

I advanced up to the place slow and cautious. The snake was well concealed, but at last I made him out; it was a coulacanara, not poisonous, but large enough to have crushed any of us to death. On measuring him afterward, he was something more than fourteen feet long. This species of snake is very rare, and much thicker in proportion to its length than any other snake in the forest. A coulacanara of fourteen feet in length, is as thick as a common boa of twenty-four feet. After skinning this snake, I could easily get my head into his mouth, as the singular formation of the jaws admits of wonderful extension.

On ascertaining the size of the serpent, I retired slowly the way I came, and promised four dollars to the negro who had shown it to me, and one dollar to the other who had joined us. Aware that the day was on the decline, and that the approach of night would be detrimental to the dissection, a thought struck me that I could take him alive. I imagined that if I could strike him with the lance behind the head, and pin him to the ground, I might succeed in capturing him. When I told this to the negroes, they begged and entreated me to let them go for a gun and bring more force, as they were sure the snake would kill some of us. Taking, however, a cutlass from one of the negroes, and then ranging both of the sable slaves behind me, I told them to follow me, and that I would cut them down if they offered to fly. When we had got up to the place, the serpent had not stirred: but I could see nothing of his head, and judged by the folds of his body that it must be at the farthest side of the den. A species of woodbine formed a complete mantle over the branches of the fallen tree, almost impervious to the rain or the rays of the sun. Probably he had resorted to this sequestered place for a length of time, as it bore marks of an ancient settlement.

I now took my knife, determined to cut away the woodbine, and break the twigs in the gentlest manner possible, till I could get a view of his head. One negro stood guard close behind me with a cutlass. The cutlass which I had taken from the first negro, was on the ground close beside me, in case of need. After working in dead silence for a quarter of an hour, with one knee all the time on the ground, I had cleared away enough to see his head. It appeared coming out between the first and second coils of his body, and was flat on the ground. This was the very position I wished it to be in. I rose in silence, and retreated very slowly, making a sign to the negroes to do the same. The dog was sitting at a distance in mute observance. I could now read in the faces of the negroes, that they considered this a very unpleasant affair; and they made another vain attempt to persuade me to let them go for a gun. I smiled in a good-natured manner, and made a feint to cut them down with the weapon I had in my hand. This was all the answer I made to their request, and they looked very uneasy.

It must be observed that we were about twenty yards from the snake's den. I now ranged the negroes behind me, and told him who stood next to me, to lay hold of the lance the moment I struck the snake, and that the other must attend my movements. It now only remained to take their cutlasses from them; for I was sure that if I did not disarm them, they would be tempted to strike the snake in time of danger, and thus forever spoil his skin. On taking their cutlasses from them, if I might judge from their physiognomy, they seemed to consider it as a most intolerable act of tyranny. Probably nothing kept them from bolting, but the consolation that I was betwixt them and the snake. Indeed, my own heart, in spite of all I could do, beat quicker than usual. We went slowly on in silence, without moving our arms or heads, in order to prevent all alarm as much as possible, lest the snake should glide off, or attack us in self-defence. I carried the lance perpendicularly before me, with the point about a foot from the ground. The snake had not moved, and on getting up to him, I struck him with the lance on the near side, just behind the neck, and pinned him to the ground. That moment the negro next to me seized the lance and held it firm in its place, while I dashed head foremost into the den to grapple with the snake, and to get hold of his tail before he could do any mischief.

On pinning him to the ground with the lance, he gave a tremendous loud hiss, and the little dog ran away, howling as he went. We had a sharp fray in the den, the rotten sticks flying on all sides, and each party struggling for superiority. I called out to the second negro to throw himself upon me, as I found I was not heavy enough. He did so, and the additional weight was of great service. I had now got a firm hold of his tail, and after a violent struggle or two, he gave in, finding himself overpowered. This was the moment to secure him. So while the first negro continued to hold the lance firm to the ground, and the other was helping me, I contrived to unloosen my braces, and with them tied the snake's mouth.

The snake now finding himself in an unpleasant predicament, tried to better himself, and set resolutely to work, but we overpowered him. We contrived to make him twist himself round the shaft of the lance, and then prepared to convey him out of the forest. I stood at his head, and held it firm under my arm, one negro supporting the belly and the other the tail. In this order we began to move slowly toward home, and reached it after resting ten times; for the snake was too heavy for us to support, without stopping to recruit our strength. As we proceeded onward with him, he fought hard for freedom, but it was all in vain. We untied the mouth of the bag, kept him down by main force, and then cut his throat.

The week following, a curious conflict took place near the spot where I had captured the large snake. In the morning I had been following a species of paroquet, and, the day being rainy, I had taken an umbrella to keep the gun dry, and had left it under a tree: in the afternoon, I took Daddy Quashi (the negro) with me to look for it. While he was searching about, curiosity led me toward the place of the late scene of action. There was a path where timber had formerly been dragged along. Here I observed a young coulacanara, ten feet long, slowly moving onward; and I saw he was thick enough to break my arm, in case he got twisted around it. There was not a moment to be lost. I laid hold of his tail with the left hand, one knee being on the ground; and, with the right hand, I took off my hat, and held it as I would hold a shield for defence.

The snake instantly turned, and came on at me with his head about a yard from the ground, as if to ask me what business I had to take such liberties with his tail. I let him come, hissing and open-mouthed, within two feet of my face, and then, with all the force that I was master of, drove my fist, shielded by my hat, full in his jaws. He was stunned and confounded by the blow, and, ere he could recover himself, I had seized his throat with both hands, in such a position that he could not bite me. I then allowed him to coil himself around my body and marched off with him as my lawful prize. He pressed me hard, but not alarmingly so.



ESTILL'S DEFEAT.

In the spring of 1782, a party of twenty-five Wyandots secretly approached Estill's station, and committed shocking outrages. Entering a cabin, they tomahawked and scalped a woman and her two daughters. The neighborhood was instantly alarmed. Captain Estill speedily collected a body of twenty-five men, and pursued the hostile trail with great rapidity. He came up with the savages on Hinkston fork of Licking, immediately after they had crossed it; and a most severe and desperate conflict ensued.

Estill, unfortunately, sent six of his men under Lieutenant Miller, to attack the enemy's rear. The Indian leader immediately availed himself of this dimunition of force, rushed upon the weakened line of his adversaries, and compelled him to give way. A total route ensued. Captain Estill was killed together with his gallant lieutenant, South. Four men were wounded and fortunately escaped. Nine fell under the tomahawk, and were scalped. The Indians also suffered severely, and are believed to have lost half of their warriors.



INCIDENT AT NIAGARA FALLS.

On Saturday, the 13th of July, 1850, as a boy, ten years old, was rowing his father over to their home on Grand Island, the father being so much intoxicated as not to be able to assist any more than to steer the canoe, the wind, which was very strong off shore, so frustrated the efforts of his tiny arm, that the canoe in spite of him, got into the current, and finally into the rapids, within a very few rods of the Falls! On went the frail shell, careering and plunging as the mad waters chose. Still the gallant little oarsman maintained his struggle with the raging billows, and actually got the canoe, by his persevering manoeuvring so close to Iris Island, as to have her driven by a providential wave in between the little islands called the Sisters. Here the father and his dauntless boy were in still greater danger for an instant; for there is a fall between the two islands, over which had they gone, no earthly power could have withheld their final passage to the terrific precipice, which forms the Horse-shoe Fall. But the sudden dash of a wave capsized the canoe, and left the two struggling in the water. Being near a rock, and shallow, the boy lost no time, but seizing his father by the coat collar, dragged him up to a place of safety, where the crowd of anxious citizens awaited to lend assistance. The poor boy on reaching the shore in safety, instantly fainted, while his miserable father was sufficiently sobered by the perils he had passed through. The canoe was dashed to pieces on the rocks ere it reached its final leap.



A SKATER CHASED BY A WOLF.

A thrilling incident in American country life is vividly sketched in "Evenings at Donaldson Manor." In the winter of 1844, the relater went out one evening to skate, on the Kennebec, in Maine, by moonlight, and, having ascended that river nearly two miles, turned into a little stream to explore its course.

"Fir and hemlock of a century's growth," he says, "met overhead and formed an archway, radiant with frostwork. All was dark within; but I was young and fearless; and, as I peered into an unbroken forest that reared itself on the borders of the stream, I laughed with very joyousness; my wild hurrah rang through the silent woods, and I stood listening to the echo that reverberated again and again, until all was hushed. Suddenly a sound arose—it seemed to me to come from beneath the ice; it sounded low and tremulous at first, until it ended in a low, wild yell. I was appalled. Never before had such a noise met my ears. I thought it more than mortal; so fierce, and amid such an unbroken solitude, it seemed as though from the tread of some brute animal, and the blood rushed back to my forehead with a bound that made my skin burn, and I felt relieved that I had to contend with things earthly and not spiritual; my energies returned, and I looked around me for some means of escape. As I turned my head to the shore, I could see two dark objects dashing through the underbrush, at a pace nearly double in speed to my own. By this rapidity, and the short yells they occasionally gave, I knew at once that these were the much-dreaded gray wolf.

"I had never met with these animals, but, from the description given of them, I had very little pleasure in making their acquaintance. Their untamable fierceness, and the enduring strength, which seems part of their nature, render them objects of dread to every benighted traveler.

"There was no time for thought; so I bent my head and dashed madly forward. Nature turned me toward home. The light flakes of snow spun from the iron skates, and I was some distance from my pursuers, when their fierce howl told me I was their fugitive. I did not look back; I did not feel afraid, or sorry, or even glad; one thought of home, the bright faces waiting my return—of their tears, if they should never see me again, and then every energy of body and mind was exerted for escape. I was perfectly at home on the ice. Many were the days that I had spent on my good skates, never thinking that at one time they would be my only means of safety. Every half minute, an alternate yelp from my ferocious followers, told me too certain that they were in close pursuit. Nearer and nearer they came; I heard their feet pattering on the ice nearer still, until I could feel their breath, and hear their sniffling scent.

"Every nerve and muscle in my frame was stretched to the utmost tension. The trees along the shore seemed to dance in the uncertain light, and my brain turned with my own breathless speed, yet still they seemed to hiss forth their breath with a sound truly horrible, when an involuntary motion on my part, turned me out of my course. The wolves, close behind, unable to stop, and as unable to turn on the smooth ice, slipped and fell, still going on far ahead; their tongues were lolling out, their white tusks glaring from their bloody mouths, their dark, shaggy breasts were fleeced with foam, and, as they passed me, their eyes glared, and they howled with fury.

"The thought flashed on my mind, that, by these means, I could avoid them, viz: by turning aside whenever they came too near; for they, by the formation of their feet, are unable to run on the ice, except in a straight line.

"At one time, by delaying my turning too long, my sanguinary antagonists came so near, that they threw the white foam over my dress, as they sprang to seize me, and their teeth clashed together like the spring of a fox-trap!

"Had my skates failed for one instant, had I tripped on a stick, or caught my foot in a fissure in the ice, the story I am now telling would never have been told.

"I thought over all the chances; I knew where they would take hold of me, if I fell; I thought how long it would be before I died; and then there would be a search for the body that would already have its tomb! for, oh! how fast man's mind traces out all the dread colors of death's picture, only those who have been so near the grim original can tell.

"But I soon came opposite the house, and, my hounds,—I knew their deep voices,—roused by the noise, bayed furiously from the kennels. I heard their chains rattle; how I wished they would break them! and then I would have protectors that would be peer to the fiercest denizens of the forest. The wolves, taking the hint conveyed by the dogs, stopped in their mad career, and, after a moment's consideration, turned and fled. I watched them until their dusky forms disappeared over a neighboring hill; then, taking off my skates, I wended my way to the house, with feelings which may be better imagined than described. But, even yet, I never see a broad sheet of ice in the moonshine, without thinking of the sniffling breath, and those fearful things that followed me closely down the frozen Kennebec."



OUR FLAG ON THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS

We find the following incident of placing the American flag on the highest point of the Rocky Mountains, in "Col. Fremont's Narrative:"

We managed to get our mules up to a little bench about a hundred feet above the lakes, where there was a patch of good grass, and turned them loose to graze. During our rough ride to this place, they had exhibited a wonderful surefootedness. Parts of the defile were filled with angular, sharp fragments of rock, three or four and eight or ten feet cube; and among these they had worked their way leaping from one narrow point to another, rarely making a false step, and giving us no occasion to dismount. Having divested ourselves of every unnecessary encumbrance, we commenced the ascent. This time, like experienced travelers, we did not press ourselves, but climbed leisurely, sitting down so soon as we found breath beginning to fail. At intervals, we readied places where a number of springs gushed from the rocks, and, about 1800 feet above the lakes, came to the snow line. From this point, our progress was uninterrupted climbing. Hitherto, I had worn a pair of thick moccasins, with soles of parfleche, but here I put on a light, thin pair, which I had brought for the purpose, as now the use of our toes became necessary to a further advance. I availed myself of a sort of comb of the mountain, which stood against the wall like a buttress, and which the wind and the solar radiation, joined to the steepness of the smooth rock, had kept almost entirely free from snow. Up this, I made my way rapidly. Our cautious method of advancing, at the outset, had spared my strength; and, with the exception of a slight disposition to headache, I felt no remains of yesterday's illness, In a few minutes we reached a point where the buttress was overhanging, and there was no other way of surmounting the difficulty than by passing around one side of it, which was the face of a vertical precipice of several hundred feet.

Putting hands and feet in the crevices between the blocks, I succeeded in getting over it, and, when I reached the top, found my companions in a small valley below. Descending to them, we continued climbing, and in a short time reached the crest. I sprang upon the summit, and another step would have precipitated me into an immense snow field, five hundred feet below. To the edge of this field was a sheer icy precipice; and then, with a gradual fall, the field sloped off for about a mile, until it struck the foot of another lower ridge. I stood on a narrow crest, about three feet in width, with an inclination of about 20 deg. N., 51 deg. E. As soon as I had gratified the first feelings of curiosity, I descended, and each man ascended in his turn; for I would only allow one at a time to mount the unstable and precarious slab, which, it seemed, a breath would hurl into the abyss below. We mounted the barometer in the snow of the summit, and, fixing a ramrod in a crevice, unfurled the national flag to wave in the breeze, where flag never waved before.



During our morning's ascent, we had met no sign of animal life, except a small sparrow-like bird. A stillness the most profound, and a terrible solitude, forced themselves constantly on the mind as the great features of the place. Here, on the summit, where the stillness was absolute, unbroken by any sound, and solitude complete, we thought ourselves beyond the region of animated life; but, while we were sitting on the rock, a solitary bee (bromus, the humble-bee) came winging his flight from the eastern valley, and lit on the knee of one of the men.

It was a strange place, the icy rock and the highest peak of the Rocky mountains, for a lover of warm sunshine and flowers; and we pleased ourselves with the idea that he was the first of his species to cross the mountain barrier—a solitary pioneer to foretell the advance of civilization. I believe that a moment's thought would have made us let him continue his way unharmed; but we carried out the law of this country, where all animated nature seems at war; and, seizing him immediately, put him in at least a fit place—in the leaves of a large book, among the flowers we had collected on our way.



RUNNING THE CANON.

Col. Fremont, in his narrative, gives the following account of a perilous adventure of himself and party, in attempting to run a canon, on the river Platte. They had previously passed three cataracts:

We reembarked at nine o'clock, and, in about twenty minutes, reached the next canon. Landing on a rocky shore at its commencement, we ascended the ridge to reconnoiter. Portage was out of the question. So far as we could see, the jagged rocks pointed out the course of the canon, on a winding line of seven or eight miles. It was simply a narrow, dark chasm in the rock; and here the perpendicular faces were much higher than in the previous pass, being at this end two to three hundred, and further down, as we afterward ascertained, five hundred feet in vertical height.

Our previous success had made us bold, and we determined again to run the canon. Every thing was secured as firmly as possible; and, having divested ourselves of the greater part of our clothing, we pushed into the stream. To save our chronometer from accident, Mr. Preuss took it, and attempted to proceed along the shore on the masses of rock, which, in places, were piled up on either side; but, after he had walked about five minutes, every thing like shore disappeared, and the vertical wall came squarely down into the water. He therefore waited until we came up.

An ugly pass lay before us. We had made fast to the stern of the boat a strong rope about fifty feet long; and three of the men clambered along among the rocks, and, with this rope, let her slowly through the pass. In several places, high rocks lay scattered about in the channel; and, in the narrows, it required all our strength and skill to avoid staving the boat on the sharp points. In one of these, the boat proved a little too broad, and stuck fast for an instant, while the water flew over us; fortunately, it was but for an instant, as our united strength forced her immediately through. The water swept overboard only a sextant and a pair of saddle-bags. I caught the sextant as it passed by me; but the saddle-bags became the prey of the whirlpools. We reached the place where Mr. Preuss was standing, took him on board, and, with the aid of the boat, put the men with the rope on the succeeding pile of rocks.

We found this passage much worse than the previous one, and our position was rather a bad one. To go back was impossible; before us, the cataract was a sheet of foam; and, shut up in the chasm by the rocks, which, in some places, seemed almost to meet overhead, the roar of the water was deafening, We pushed off again; but, after making a little distance, the force of the current became too great for the men on shore, and two of them let go the rope. Lajeunesse, the third man, hung on, and was jerked headforemost into the river, from a rock about twelve feet high; and down the boat shot, like an arrow, Bazil following us in the rapid current, and exerting all his strength to keep in mid channel—his head only seen occasionally like a black spot in the white foam. How far we went, I do not exactly know; but we succeeded in turning the boat into an eddy below. "'Cre Dieu," said Bazil Lajeunesse, as he arrived immediately after us, "Je crois bien que j'ai nage un demi mile." He had owed his life to his skill as a swimmer, and I determined to take him and two others on board, and trust to skill and fortune to reach the other end in safety. We placed ourselves on our knees, with the short paddles in our hands, the most skillful boatman being at the bow; and again we commenced our rapid descent. We cleared rock after rock, and shot past fall after fall, our little boat seeming to play with the cataract. We became flushed with success, and familiar with danger; and, yielding to the excitement of the occasion, broke forth into a Canadian boat-song. Singing, or rather shouting, we dashed along, and were, I believe, in the midst of the chorus, when the boat struck a concealed rock immediately at the foot of a fall, which whirled her over in an instant. Three of my men could not swim, and my first feeling was to assist them, and save some of our effects; but a sharp concussion or two convinced me that I had not yet saved myself. A few strokes brought me into an eddy, and I landed on a pile of rocks on the left side. Looking around, I saw that Mr. Preuss had gained the shore on the same side, about twenty yards below; and a little climbing and swimming soon brought him to my side. On the opposite side, against the wall, lay the boat, bottom up; and Lambert was in the act of saving Descoteaux, whom he had grasped by the hair, and who could not swim.

For a hundred yards below, the current was covered with floating books and boxes, bales and blankets, and scattered articles of clothing; and so strong and boiling was the stream, that even our heavy instruments, which were all in cases, kept on the surface, and the sextant, circle, and the long, black box of the telescope, were in view at once. For a moment, I felt somewhat disheartened. All our books—almost every record of the journey—our journals and registers of astronomical and barometrical observations—had been lost in a moment, But it was no time to indulge in regrets; and I immediately set about endeavoring to save something from the wreck. Making ourselves understood as well as possible by signs, (for nothing could be heard in the roar of the waters,) we commenced our operations. Of every thing on board, the only article that had been saved was my double-barreled gun, which Descoteaux had caught and clung to with drowning tenacity. The men continued down the river on the left bank. Mr. Preuss and myself descended on the side we were on; and Lajeunesse, with a paddle in his hand, jumped on the boat alone, and continued down the canon. She was now light, and cleared every bad place with much less difficulty. In a short time he was joined by Lambert and the search was continued for about a mile and a half, which was as far as the boat could proceed in the pass.

Here the walls were about five hundred feet high, and the fragments of rocks from above had choked the river into a hollow pass, but one or two feet above the surface. Through this, and the interstices of the rock, the water found its way. Favored beyond our expectations, all our registers had been recovered, with the exception of one of my journals, which contained the notes and incidents of travel, and topographical descriptions, a number of scattered astronomical observations, principally meridian altitudes of the sun, and our barometrical register west of Laramie. Fortunately, our other journals contained duplicates of the most important barometrical observations. In addition to these, we saved the circle; and these, with a few blankets, constituted every thing that had been rescued from the waters.



THE RESCUE.

A young girl has been captured at her father's hut, when all the males of the household are absent hunting wolves. She is seized by the Indians, and borne swiftly away to the encampment of a war party of the Osages. She is then placed in a "land canoe" and hurried rapidly forward toward their villages. Among the party she recognizes one whose life she had been instrumental in saving, when a prisoner. He recognizes her, and promises to assist her escape. At this point the following narrative commences:

At a late and solemn hour, the Indian who had been the captive the night before, suddenly ceased his snoring, which had been heard without intermission for a great length of time; and when Mary instinctively cast her eyes toward him, she was surprised to see him gently and slowly raise his head. He enjoined silence by placing his hand upon his mouth. After carefully disengaging himself from his comrades, he crept quietly away, and soon vanished entirely from sight on the northern side of the spreading beech. Mary expected he would soon return and assist her to escape. Although she was aware of the hardships and perils that would attend her flight, yet the thought of again meeting her friends was enough to nerve her for the undertaking, and she waited with anxious impatience the coming of her rescuer. But he came not. She could attribute no other design in his conduct but that of effecting her escape, and yet he neither came for her, nor beckoned her away. She had reposed confidence in his promise, for she knew that the Indian, savage as he was, rarely forfeited his word; but when gratitude inspired a pledge, she could not believe that he would use deceit. The fire was now burning quite low, and its waning light scarce cast a beam upon the branches overhead. It was evidently not far from morning, and every hope of present escape entirely fled from her bosom. But just as she was yielding to despair, she saw the Indian returning in a stealthy pace, bearing some dark object in his arms. He glided to her side, and motioned to her to leave the snow-canoe, and also to take with her all her robes with which she had been enveloped. She did his bidding, and then he carefully deposited the burden he bore in the place she had just occupied. A portion of the object becoming unwrapped, Mary discovered it to be a huge mass of snow, resembling in some respects a human form, and the Indian's stratagem was at once apparent to her. Relinquishing herself to his guidance, she was led noiselessly through the bushes about a hundred paces distant from the fire, to a large fallen tree that had yielded to some furious storm, when her conductor paused. He pointed to a spot where a curve caused the huge trunk to rise about a foot from the surface of the snow, under which was a round hole cut through the drifted snow down to the earth, and in which were deposited several buffalo robes, and so arranged that a person could repose within, without coming in contact with the frozen element around. Mary looked down, and then at her companion to ascertain his intentions. He spoke to her in a low tone, enough of which she comprehended to understand that he desired her to descend into the pit without delay. She obeyed, and when he had carefully folded the robes and divers furs about her body, he stepped a few paces to one side, and gently lifting up a round lid of snow-crust, placed it over the aperture. It had been so smoothly cut, and fitted with such precision when replaced, that no one would have been able to discover that an incision had been made. He then bid Mary a "dud by" in bad English, and set off on a run in a northern direction for the purpose of joining the whites.

With the first light of morning, the war-party sprang to their feet, and hastily despatching a slight repast, they set out on their journey with renewed animation and increased rapidity. Before starting, the chief called to Mary, and again offered some food; but no reply being returned, or motion discovered under the robe which he imagined enveloped her, he supposed she was sleeping, and directed the party to select the most even route when they emerged in the prairie, that she might as much as possible enjoy her repose.

The Indian who had planned and executed the escape of Mary, with the well-devised cunning for which the race is proverbial, had told his companions that he would rise before day and pursue the same direction in advance of them, and endeavor to kill a deer for their next night's meal. Thus his absence created no suspicion, and the party continued their precipitate retreat.

But, about noon, after casting many glances back at the supposed form of the captive reclining peacefully in the snow-canoe, the chief, with much excitement, betrayed by his looks, which seemed to be mingled with an apprehension that she was dead, abruptly ordered the party to halt. He sprang to the canoe, and convulsively tearing away the skins, discovered only the roll of snow! He at first compressed his lips in momentary rage, and then burst into a fit of irrepressible laughter. But the rest raved and stamped, and uttered direful imprecations and threats of vengeance. Immediately they were aware of the treachery of the absent Indian, and resolved with one voice that his blood should be an atonement for the act.

The snow was quickly thrown out, and the war-party adjusted their weapons, with the expectation of encountering the whites; and then whirling about they retraced their steps far more swiftly than they had been advancing. Just as the night was setting in, they came in sight of the grove where they had encamped. They slackened their pace, and looking eagerly forward, seemed to think it not improbable that the whites had arrived in the vicinity, and might be lying in ambush awaiting their return in search of the maid. They then abandoned the canoe, after having concealed it under some low bushes, and entered the grove in a stooping and watchful posture. Ere long the chief attained the immediate neighbor of the spreading tree, and with an arrow drawn to its head, crept within a few paces of the spot where he had lain the preceding night. His party were mostly a few feet in the rear, while a few were approaching in the same manner from the opposite direction. Hearing no sound whatever, he rose up slowly, and with an "ugh" of disappointment, strode carelessly across the silent and untenanted place of encampment.

Vexation and anger were expressed by the savages in being thus disappointed. They hoped to wreak their vengeance on the whites, and resolved to recapture the maiden. Where they expected to find them, the scene was silent and desolate. And they now sauntered about under the trees in the partial light of the moon that struggled through the matted branches, threatening in the most horrid manner, the one who had thus baffled them. Some struck their tomahawks into the trunks of trees, while others brandished their knives, and uttered direful threats. The young chief stood in silence, with his arms folded on his breast. A small ray of light that fell upon his face exhibited a meditative brow, and features expressing both firmness and determination. He had said that the captive should be regained, and his followers ever and anon regarded his thoughtful attitude with the confidence that his decision would hasten the accomplishment of their desires. Long he remained thus, motionless and dignified, and no one dared to address him.

The young chief called one of the oldest of the party, who was standing a few paces distant absorbed in thought, to his side, and after a short conference the old savage prostrated himself on the snow, and endeavored, like a hound, to scent the tracks of his recreant brother. At first he met with no success, but when making a wide circuit round the premises, still applying his nose to the ground occasionally, and minutely examining the bushes, he paused abruptly, and announced to the party that he had found the precise direction taken by the maid and her deliverer. Instantly they all clustered round him, evincing the most intense interest. Some smelt the surface of the snow, and others examined the bushes. Small twigs, not larger than pins, were picked up and closely scrutinized. They well knew that anyone passing through the frozen and clustered bushes must inevitably sever some of the twigs and buds Their progress was slow, but unerring. The course they pursued was the direction taken by Mary and her rescuer. It was not long before they arrived within a few feet of the place of the maiden's concealment. But now they were at fault. There were no bushes immediately around the fallen tree. They paused, the chief in the van, with their bows and arrows and tomahawks in readiness for instant use. They knew that the maiden could not return to her friends on foot, or the treacherous savage be able to bear her far on his shoulder. They thought that one or both must be concealed somewhere in the neighborhood, and the fallen tree, were it hollow, was the place most likely to be selected for that purpose. After scanning the fallen trunk a few minutes in silence, and discovering nothing to realize their hopes, they uttered a terrific yell, and commenced striking their tomahawks in the wood, and ripping up the bark in quest of some hiding-place. But their search was in vain. The fallen trunk was sound and solid throughout, and the young chief sat down on it within three paces of Mary! Others, in passing about, frequently trod on the very verge of the concealed pit.

Mary was awakened by the yell, but knew not that the sound came from her enemies. The Indian had told her that he would soon return, and her heart now fluttered with the hope that her father and her friends were at hand. Yet she prudently determined not to rush from her concealment until she was better assured of the fact. She did not think that the savages would ever suspect that she was hid under the snow, but yet she thought it very strange that her father did not come to her at once. Several minutes had elapsed since she had been startled by the sounds in the immediate vicinity. She heard the tramp of men almost directly over her head, and the strokes against the fallen trunk. She was several times on the eve of rising up, but was as often withheld by some mysterious impulse. She endeavored to reflect calmly, but still she could not, by any mode of conjecture, realize the probability of her foes having returned and traced her thither. Yet an undefinable fear still possessed her, and she endeavored with patience to await the pleasure of her friends. But when the chief seated himself in her vicinity, and fell into one of his fits of abstraction, and the whole party became comparatively still and hushed, the poor girl's suspense was almost insufferable. She knew that human beings were all around her, and yet her situation was truly pitiable and lonely. She felt assured that if the war-party had returned in pursuit of her, the means which enabled them to trace their victim to the fallen trunk would likewise have sufficed to indicate her hiding place. Then why should they hesitate? The yells that awakened her were not heard distinctly, and under the circumstances she could not believe that she was surrounded by savages. On the other hand, if they were her friends, why did they not relieve her? Now a sudden, but, alas! erroneous thought occurred to her. She was persuaded that they were her friends, but that the friendly Indian was not with them—he had perhaps directed them where she could be found, and then returned to his home. Might not her friends, at that moment, be anxiously searching for her? Would not one word suffice to dispel their solicitude, and restore the lost one to their arms? She resolved to speak. Bowing down her head slightly, so that her precise location might not instantly be ascertained, she uttered in a soft voice the word "FATHER!" The chief sprang from his seat, and the party was instantly in commotion. Some of the savages looked above, among the twining branches, and some shot their arrows in the snow, but fortunately not in the direction of Mary while others ran about in every direction, examining all the large trees in the vicinity. The chief was amazed and utterly confounded. He drew not forth an arrow, nor brandished a tomahawk. While he thus stood, and the rest of the party were moving hurriedly about, a few paces distant, Mary again repeated the word "FATHER!" As suddenly as if by enchantment every savage was paralyzed. Each stood as devoid of animation as a statue. For many moments an intense silence reigned, as if naught existed there but the cheerless forest trees. Slowly at length, the tomahawk was returned to the belt, and the arrow to the quiver. No longer was a desire to spill blood manifested. The dusky children of the forest attributed to the mysterious sound a supernatural agency. They believed it was a voice from the perennial hunting grounds. Humbly they bowed their heads, and whispered devotions to the Great Spirit. The young chief alone stood erect. He gazed at the round moon above him, and sighs burst from his breast, and burning tears ran down his stained cheek. Impatiently, by a motion of the hand, he directed the savages to leave him, and when they withdrew he resumed his seat on the fallen trunk, and reclined his brow upon his hand. One of the long feathers that decked his head waved forward, after he had been seated thus a few minutes, and when his eye rested upon it he started up wildly, and tearing it away, trampled it under his feet. At that instant the same "FATHER!" was again heard. The young chief fell upon his knees, and, while he panted convulsively, said, in English, "Father! Mother! I'm your poor William—you loved me much—where are you? Oh tell me—I will come to you—I want to see you!" He then fell prostrate and groaned piteously. "Father! Oh! where are you?"

"Whose voice was that?" said Mary, breaking through the slight incrustation that obscured her, and leaping from her covert.

The young chief sprang from the earth—gazed a moment at the maid—spoke rapidly and loudly in the language of his tribe to his party, who were now at the place of encampment, seated by the fire they had kindled—and then, seizing his tomahawk, was in the act of hurling it at Mary, when the yells of the war-party and the ringing discharges of fire-arms arrested his steel when brandished in the air. The white men had arrived! The young chief seized Mary by her long, flowing hair—again prepared to strike the fatal blow—when she turned her face upward, and he again hesitated. Discharges in quick succession, and nearer than before, still rang in his ears. Mary strove not to escape. Nor did the Indian strike. The whites were heard rushing through the bushes—the chief seized the trembling girl in his arms—a bullet whizzed by his head—-but, unmindful of danger, he vanished among the dark bushes with his burden.

"She's gone! she's gone!" exclaimed Roughgrove, looking aghast at the vacated pit under the fallen trunk.

"But we will have her yet," said Boone, as he heard Glenn discharge a pistol a few paces apart in the bushes. The report was followed by a yell, not from the chief, but Sneak, and the next moment the rifle of the latter was likewise heard. Still the Indian was not dispatched, for the instant afterward his tomahawk, which had been hurled without effect, came sailing over the bushes, and penetrated a tree hard by, some fifteen or twenty feet above the earth, where it entered the wood with such a force that it remained firmly fixed. Now succeeded a struggle—a violent blow was heard—the fall of the Indian, and all was still. A minute afterward Sneak emerged from the thicket, bearing Mary in his arms, and followed by Glenn.

"Is she dead? Oh, she's dead!" cried Roughgrove, snatching her from the arms of Sneak.

"She has only fainted!" exclaimed Glenn, examining the body of the girl, and finding no wounds.

"She's recovering!" said Boone, feeling her pulse.

"God be praised!" exclaimed Roughgrove, when returning animation was manifest.

"Oh, I know you won't kill me! for pity's sake, spare me!" said Mary.

"It is your father, my poor child!" said Roughgrove, pressing the girl to his heart.

"It is! it is!" cried the happy girl, clinging rapturously to the old man's neck, and then, seizing the hands of the rest, she seemed to be half wild with delight.



SHIPWRECK OF THE MEDUSA.

On the 17th of June, 1816, the Medusa, French frigate, commanded by Captain Chaumareys, and accompanied by three smaller vessels, sailed from the island of Aix, for the coast of Africa, in order to take possession of some colonies. On the 1st of July, they entered the tropics; and there, with a childish disregard to danger, and knowing that she was surrounded by all the unseen perils of the ocean, her crew performed the ceremony usual to the occasion, while the vessel was running headlong on destruction. The captain, presided over the disgraceful scene of merriment, leaving the ship to the command of an M. Richefort, who had passed the ten preceding years of his life in an English prison—a few persons on board remonstrated in vain; though it was ascertained that they were on the banks of Arguise, she continued her course, and heaved the lead, without slackening the sail. Every thing denoted shallow water, but M. Richefort persisted in saying that they were in one hundred fathoms. At that very moment only six fathoms were found; and the vessel struck three times, being in about sixteen feet water, and the tide full flood. At ebb-tide, there remained but twelve feet water; and after some bungling manoeuvres, all hope of getting the ship off was abandoned.

When the frigate struck, she had on board six boats, of various capacities, all of which could not contain the crew and passengers; and a raft was constructed. A dreadful scene ensued. All scrambled out of the wreck without order or precaution. The first who reached the boats refused to admit any of their fellow-sufferers into them, though there was ample room for more. Some, apprehending that a plot had been formed to abandon them in the vessel, flew to arms. No one assisted his companions; and Captain Chaumareys stole out of a port-hole into his own boat, leaving a great part of the crew to shift for themselves. At length they put off to sea, intending to steer for the sandy coast of the desert, there to land, and thence to proceed with a caravan to the island of St. Louis.

The raft had been constructed without foresight or intelligence. It was about sixty-five feet long and twenty-five broad, but the only part which could be depended upon was the middle; and that was so small, that fifteen persons could not lie down upon it. Those who stood on the floor were in constant danger of slipping through between the planks; the sea flowed in on all its sides. When one hundred and fifty passengers who were destined to be its burden, were on board, they stood like a solid parallelogram, without a possibility of moving; and they were up to their waists in water.

The desperate squadron had only proceeded three leagues, when a faulty, if not treacherous manoeuvre, broke the tow-line which fastened the captain's boat to the raft; and this became the signal to all to let loose their cables. The weather was calm. The coast was known to be but twelve or fifteen leagues distant; and the land was in fact discovered by the boats on the very same evening on which they abandoned the raft. They were not therefore driven to this measure by any new perils; and the cry of "Nous les abandonons!" which resounded throughout the line, was the yell of a spontaneous and instinctive impulse of cowardice, perfidy, and cruelty; and the impulse was as unanimous as it was diabolical. The raft was left to the mercy of the waves; one after another, the boats disappeared, and despair became general. Not one of the promised articles, no provisions, except a very few casks of wine, and some spoiled biscuit, sufficient for one single meal was found. A small pocket compass, which chance had discovered, their last guide in a trackless ocean, fell between the beams into the sea. As the crew had taken no nourishment since morning, some wine and biscuit were distributed; and this day, the first of thirteen on the raft, was the last on which they tasted any solid food—except such as human nature shudders at. The only thing which kept them alive was the hope of revenge on those who had treacherously betrayed them.

The first night was stormy; and the waves, which had free access, committed dreadful ravages, and threatened worse. When day appeared, twelve miserable wretches were found crushed to death between the openings of the raft, and several more were missing; but the number could not be ascertained, as several soldiers had taken the billets of the dead, in order to obtain two, or even three rations. The second night was still more dreadful, and many were washed off; although the crew had so crowded together, that some were smothered by the mere pressure. To soothe their last moments, the soldiers drank immoderately; and one, who affected to rest himself upon the side, but was treacherously cutting the ropes, was thrown into the sea. Another, whom M. Correard had snatched from the waves, turned traitor a second time, as soon as he recovered his senses; but he too was killed. At length the revolted, who were chiefly soldiers, threw themselves upon their knees, and abjectly implored mercy. At midnight, however, they rebelled again. Those who had no arms, fought with their teeth, and thus many severe wounds were inflicted. One was most wantonly and dreadfully bitten above the heel, while his companions were beating him upon the head with their carbines, before throwing him into the sea. The raft was strewed with dead bodies, after innumerable instances of treachery and cruelty; and from sixty to sixty-five perished that night. The force and courage of the strongest began to yield to their misfortunes; and even the most resolute labored under mental derangement. In the conflict, the revolted had thrown two casks of wine, and all the remaining water, into the sea; and it became necessary to diminish each man's share.

A day of comparative tranquillity succeeded. The survivors erected their mast again, which had been wantonly cut down in the battle of the night; and endeavored to catch some fish, but in vain. They were reduced to feed on the dead bodies of their companions. A third night followed, broken by the plaintive cries of wretches, exposed to every kind of suffering, ten or twelve of whom died of want, and awfully foretold the fate of the remainder. The following day was fine. Some flying fish were caught in the raft; which, mixed up with human flesh, afforded one scanty meal.



A new insurrection to destroy the raft, broke out on the fourth night; this too, was marked by perfidy, and ended in blood. Most of the rebels were thrown into the sea. The fifth morning mustered but thirty men alive; and these sick and wounded, with the skin of their lower extremities corroded by the salt water. Two soldiers were detected drinking the wine of the only remaining cask; they were instantly thrown into the sea. One boy died, and there remained only twenty-seven; of whom fifteen only seemed likely to live. A council of war, preceded by the most horrid despair, was held; as the weak consumed a part of the common store, they determined to throw them into the sea. This sentence was put into immediate execution! and all the arms on board, which now filled their minds with horror, were, with the exception of a single sabre, committed to the deep. Distress and misery increased with an accelerated ratio; and even after the desperate means of destroying their companions, and eating the most nauseous aliments, the surviving fifteen could not hope for more than a few days' existence. A butterfly lighted on their sail the ninth day, and though it was held to be a messenger of good, yet many a greedy eye was cast upon it.

Three days more passed over in inexpressible anguish, when they constructed a smaller and more manageable raft, in the hope of directing it to the shore; but on trial it was found insufficient. On the seventeenth day, a brig was seen; which, after exciting the vicissitude of hope and fear, proved to be the Argus, sent out in quest of the Medusa. The inhabitants of the raft were all received on board, and were again very nearly perishing, by a fire which broke out in the night. The six boats which had so cruelly cast them adrift, reached the coast of Africa in safety; and after many dangers among the Moors, the survivors arrived at St. Louis.

After this, a vessel was dispatched to the wreck of the Medusa, to carry away the money and provisions; after beating about for eight days, she was forced to return. She again put to sea, but after being away five days, again came back. Ten days more were lost in repairing her; and she did not reach the spot till fifty-two days after the vessel had been lost; and dreadful to relate, three miserable sufferers were found on board. Sixty men had been abandoned there by their magnanimous countrymen. All these had been carried off except seventeen, some of whom were drunk, and others refused to leave the vessel. They remained at peace as long as their provisions lasted. Twelve embarked on board a raft, for Sahara, and were never more heard of. Another put to sea on a hen-coop, and sunk immediately. Four remained behind, one of whom, exhausted with hunger and fatigue, perished. The other three lived in separate corners of the wreck, and never met but to run at each other with drawn knives. They were put on board the vessel, with all that could be saved from the wreck of the Medusa.

The vessel was no sooner seen returning to St. Louis, than every heart beat high with joy, in the hope of recovering some property. The men and officers of the Medusa jumped on board, and asked if any thing had been saved. "Yes," was the reply, "but it is all ours now;" and the naked Frenchmen, whose calamities had found pity from the Moors of the desert, were now deliberately plundered by their own countrymen.

A fair was held in the town, which lasted eight days. The clothes, furniture, and necessary articles of life belonging to the men and officers of the Medusa, were publicly sold before their faces. Such of the French as were able, proceeded to the camp at Daceard, and the sick remained at St. Louis. The French governor had promised them clothes and provisions, but sent none; and during five months, they owed their existence to strangers—to the British.



HUNTING THE MOOSE.

The habits of the moose, in his manner of defence and attack, are similar to those of the stag, and may be illustrated by the following anecdote from the "Random Sketches of a Kentuckian:"

Who ever saw Bravo without loving him? His sloe-black eyes, his glossy skin, flecked here and there with blue; his wide-spread thighs, clean shoulders, broad back, and low-drooping chest, bespoke him the true stag-hound; and none, who ever saw his bounding form, or heard his deep-toned bay, as the swift-footed stag flew before him, would dispute his title. List, gentle reader, and I will tell you an adventure which will make you love him all the more.

A bright, frosty morning in November, 1838, tempted me to visit the forest hunting-grounds. On this occasion, I was followed by a fine-looking hound, which had been presented to me a few days before by a fellow-sportsman. I was anxious to test his qualities, and, knowing that a mean dog will not often hunt well with a good one, I had tied up the eager Bravo, and was attended by the strange dog alone. A brisk canter of half an hour brought me to the wild forest hills. Slackening the rein, I slowly wound my way up a brushy slope some three hundred yards in length. I had ascended about half way, when the hound began to exhibit signs of uneasiness, and, at the same instant a stag sprang out from some underbrush near by, and rushed like a whirlwind up the slope. A word, and the hound was crouching at my feet, and my trained Cherokee, with ear erect, and flashing eye, watched the course of the affrighted animal.

"On the very summit of the ridge, full one hundred and fifty yards, every limb standing out in bold relief against the clear, blue sky, the stag paused, and looked proudly down upon us. After a moment of indecision, I raised my rifle, and sent the whizzing lead upon its errand. A single bound, and the antlered monarch was hidden from my view. Hastily running down a ball, I ascended the slope; my blood ran a little faster as I saw the gouts of blood' which stained the withered leaves where he had stood. One moment more, and the excited hound was leaping breast high on his trail, and the gallant Cherokee bore his rider like lightning after them.

"Away—away! for hours we did thus hasten on, without once being at fault, or checking our headlong speed. The chase had led us miles from the starting-point, and now appeared to be bearing up a creek, on one side of which arose a precipitous hill, some two miles in length, which I knew the wounded animal would never ascend.

"Half a mile further on, another hill reared its bleak and barren head on the opposite side of the rivulet. Once fairly in the gorge, there was no exit save at the upper end of the ravine. Here, then, I must intercept my game, which I was able to do by taking a nearer cut over the ridge, that saved at least a mile.

"Giving one parting shout to cheer my dog, Cherokee bore me headlong to the pass. I had scarcely arrived, when, black with sweat, the stag came laboring up the gorge, seemingly, totally reckless of our presence. Again I poured forth the 'leaden messenger of death,' as meteor-like he flashed by us. One bound, and the noble animal lay prostrate within fifty feet of where I stood. Leaping from my horse, and placing one knee upon his shoulder, and a hand upon his antlers, I drew my hunting knife; but scarcely had its keen point touched his neck, when, with a sudden bound, he threw me from his body, and my knife was hurled from my hand. In hunters' parlance, I had only 'creased him.' I at once saw my danger, but it was too late. With one bound, he was upon me, wounding and almost disabling me with his sharp feet and horns. I seized him by his wide-spread antlers, and sought to regain possession of my knife, but in vain; each new struggle drew us further from it. Cherokee, frightened at the unusual scene, had madly fled to the top of the ridge, where he stood looking down upon the combat, trembling and quivering in every limb.

"The ridge road I had taken placed us far in advance of the hound, whose bay I could not now hear. The struggles of the furious animal had become dreadful, and every moment I could feel his sharp hoofs cutting deep into my flesh; my grasp upon his antlers was growing less and less firm, and yet I relinquished not my hold. The struggle had brought us near a deep ditch, washed by the fall rains, and into this I endeavored to force my adversary, but my strength was unequal to the effort; when we approached to the very brink, he leaped over the drain. I relinquished my hold and rolled in, hoping thus to escape him; but he returned to the attack, and, throwing himself upon me, inflicted numerous severe cuts upon my face and breast before I could again seize him. Locking my arms around his antlers, I drew his head close to my breast, and was thus, by great effort, enabled to prevent his doing me any serious injury. But I felt that this could not last long; every muscle and fiber of my frame was called into action, and human nature could not long bear up under such exertion. Faltering a silent prayer to Heaven, I prepared to meet my fate.

"At this moment of despair, I heard the faint bayings of the hound; the stag, too, heard the sound, and, springing from the ditch, drew me with him. His efforts were now redoubled, and I could scarcely cling to him. Yet that blessed sound came nearer and nearer! Oh how wildly beat my heart, as I saw the hound emerge from the ravine, and spring forward with a short, quick bark, as his eye rested on his game. I released my hold of the stag, who turned upon the new enemy. Exhausted, and unable to rise, I still cheered the dog, that, dastard-like, fled before the infuriated animal, who, seemingly despising such an enemy, again threw himself upon me. Again did I succeed in throwing my arms around his antlers, but not until he had inflicted several deep and dangerous wounds upon my head and face, cutting to the very bone.

"Blinded by the flowing blood, exhausted and despairing, I cursed the coward dog, who stood near, baying furiously, yet refusing to seize his game. Oh! how I prayed for Bravo! The thoughts of death were bitter. To die thus in the wild forest, alone, with none to help! Thoughts of home and friends coursed like lightning through my brain. At that moment, when Hope herself had fled, deep and clear over the neighboring hill, came the baying of my gallant Bravo! I should have known his voice among a thousand. I pealed forth in one faint shout, 'On Bravo, on!' The next moment, with tiger-like bounds, the noble dog came leaping down the declivity, scattering the dried autumnal leaves like a whirlwind in his path. 'No pause he knew,' but, fixing his fangs in the stag's throat, he at once commenced the struggle.

"I fell back completely exhausted. Blinded with blood, I only knew that a terrible struggle was going on. In a few moments, all was still, and I felt the warm breath of my faithful dog, as he licked my wounds. Clearing my eyes from gore, I saw my late adversary dead at my feet, and Bravo, 'my own Bravo,' as the heroine of a modern novel would say standing over me. He yet bore around his neck a fragment of the rope with which I had tied him. He had gnawed it in two, and, following his master through all his windings, arrived in time to rescue him from a horrible death.

"I have recovered from my wounds. Bravo is lying at my feet. Who does not love Bravo? I am sure I do, and the rascal knows it—don't you, Bravo? Come here, sir!"



PERILOUS ESCAPE FROM DEATH.

In the narrative of Moses Van Campen, we find the following incident related. He was taken prisoner by the Seneca Indians, just after Sullivan's expedition in the Revolution, on the confines of the white settlements in one of the border counties of Pennsylvania. He was marched through the wilderness, and reached the headquarters of the savages near Fort Niagara. Here he was recognized as having, a year or two previously, escaped, with two others, from his guard, five of whom he slew in their sleep with his own hand.



On this discovery being made, the countenances of the savages grew dark and lowering. He saw at once that his fate was to be decided on the principles of Indian vengeance, and, being bound, had but little hope of escape. He, however, put on the appearance of as much unconcern as possible. The Indians withdrew by themselves to decide in what manner they should despatch their unhappy victim. They soon returned, their visages covered with a demoniac expression. A few went to gathering wood; another selected a spot, and soon a fire was kindled. Van Campen looked upon these preparations, which were being made to burn him alive, with feelings wrought up to the highest pitch of agony; yet he, with much effort, appeared calm and collected. At last, when the preparations were completed, two Indians approached, and began to unloose the cords with which he was bound. To this he submitted. But the moment he was fully loosed, he dashed the two Indians aside—felling one upon the earth with a blow of his fist—and darted off toward the fort, where he hoped to receive protection from the British officers. Tomahawks gleamed in the air behind him—rifle balls whistled around—but onward still he flew. One unarmed Indian stood in his path and intercepted him. With a giant spring, he struck him in the breast with his feet, and bore him to the earth. Recovering himself, he again started for the woods, and, as he was running for life—with the fire and faggot behind him, and a lingering death of torture—he soon outstripped all his pursuers. It being near night, he effected his escape, arrived at the fort, and was sent down the river to Montreal, to be out of the way of the savage Senecas, who thirsted for his blood as a recompense for that of their brethren whom he had slain.



FIRE IN THE FOREST.

"The summer of 1825 was unusually warm in both hemispheres, particularly in America, where its effects were fatally visible in the prevalence of epidemical disorders. During July and August, extensive fires raged in different parts of Nova Scotia, especially in the eastern division of the peninsular. The protracted drought of the summer, acting upon the aridity of the forests, had rendered them more than naturally combustible; and this, facilitating both the dispersion and the progress of the fires that appeared in the early part of the season, produced an unusual warmth. On the 6th of October, the fire was evidently approaching New Castle; at different intervals fitful blazes and flashes were observed to issue from different parts of the woods, particularly up the northwest, at the rear of New Castle, in the vicinity of Douglasstown and Moorfields, and along the banks of the Bartibog. Many persons heard the crackling of falling trees and shriveled branches, while a hoarse rumbling noise, not dissimilar to the roaring of distant thunder, and divided by pauses, like the intermittent discharges of artillery, was distinct and audible. On the 7th of October, the heat increased to such a degree, and became so very oppressive, that many complained of its enervating effects. About twelve o'clock, a pale, sickly mist, lightly tinged with purple, emerged from the forest and settled over it.

"This cloud soon retreated before a large, dark one, which, occupying its place, wrapped the firmament in a pall of vapor. This incumbrance retaining its position till about three o'clock, the heat became tormentingly sultry. There was not a breath of air; the atmosphere was overloaded; and irresistible lassitude seized the people. A stupefying dullness seemed to pervade every place but the woods, which now trembled, and rustled, and shook with an incessant and thrilling noise of explosions, rapidly following each other, and mingling their reports with a discordant variety of loud and boisterous sounds. At this time, the whole country appeared to be encircled by a fiery zone, which, gradually contracting its circle by the devastation it had made, seemed as if it would not converge into a point while any thing remained to be destroyed. A little after four o'clock, an immense pillar of smoke rose, in a vertical direction, at some distance northeast of New Castle, for a while, and the sky was absolutely blackened by this huge cloud; but a light, northerly breeze springing up, it gradually distended, and then dissipated into a variety of shapeless mists. About an hour after, or probably at half past five, innumerable large spires of smoke, issuing from different parts of the woods, and illuminated the flames that seemed to pierce them, mounted the sky. A heavy and suffocating canopy, extending to the utmost verge of observation, and appearing mere terrific by the vivid flashes and blazes that darted irregularly through it, now hung over New Castle and Douglass in threatening suspension, while showers of flaming brands, calcined leaves, ashes, and cinders, seemed to scream through the growling noise that prevailed in the woods. About nine o'clock, P.M., or shortly after, a succession of loud and appalling roars thundered through the forests. Peal after peal, crash after crash, announced the sentence of destruction. Every succeeding shock created fresh alarm; every clap came loaded with its own destructive energy. With greedy rapidity did the flames advance to the devoted scene of their ministry; nothing could impede their progress. They removed every obstacle by the desolation they occasioned, and several hundred miles of prostrate forests and smitten woods marked their devastating way.

"The river, tortured into violence by the hurricane, foamed with rage, and flung its boiling spray upon the land. The thunder pealed along the vault of heaven—the lightning appeared to rend the firmament. For a moment all was still, and a deep and awful silence reigned over every thing. All nature appeared to be hushed, when suddenly a lengthened and sullen roar came booming through the forests, driving a thousand massive and devouring flames before it. Then New Castle and Douglasstown, and the whole northern side of the river, extending from Bartibog to the Naashwaak, a distance of more than one hundred miles in length, became enveloped in an immense sheet of flame, that spread over nearly six thousand square miles! That the reader may form a faint idea of the desolation and misery, which no pen can describe, he must picture to himself a large and rapid river, thickly settled for one hundred miles or more on both sides of it. He must also fancy four thriving towns, two on each side of this river, and then reflect that these towns and settlements were all composed of wooden houses, stores, stables and barns; that these barns and stables were filled with crops, and that the arrival of the fall importations had stocked the warehouses and stores with spirits, powder, and a variety of cumbustible articles, as well as with the necessary supplies for the approaching winter. He must then remember that the cultivated or settled part of the river is but a long, narrow strip, about a quarter of a mile wide, lying between the river and almost interminable forests, stretching along the very edge of its precints and all around it. Extending his conception, he will see the forests thickly expanding over more than six thousand square miles, and absolutely parched into tinder by the protracted heat of a long summer.

"Let him then animate the picture, by scattering countless tribes of wild animals, and hundreds of domestic ones, and even thousands of men in the interior. Having done all this, he will have before him a feeble outline of the extent, features, and general circumstances of the country, which, in the course of a few hours, was suddenly enveloped in fire. A more ghastly or a more revolting picture of human misery can not well be imagined. The whole district of cultivated land was shrouded in the agonizing memorials of some dreadful deforming havoc. The songs of gladness that formerly resounded through it were no longer heard, for the voice of misery had hushed them. Nothing broke upon the ear but the accents of distress; the eye saw nothing but ruin, and desolation, and death. New Castle, yesterday a flourishing town, full of trade and spirit, and containing nearly one thousand inhabitants, was now a heap of smoking ruins; and Douglasstown, nearly one-third of its size, was reduced to the same miserable condition. Of the two hundred and sixty houses and storehouses, that composed the former, but twelve remained; and of the seventy that comprised the latter, but six were left. The confusion on board of one hundred and fifty large vessels, then lying in the Mirimachi, and exposed to imminent danger, was terrible—some burned to the water's edge, others burning, and the remainder occasionally on fire.