from Mrs Allan a vow never to betray her. More than half of her fault sprang from a kind and generous nature; but she could not forgive herself for the vexation that had mingled with better feelings. Her pride and her buoyancy were both gone; and upon Otoolpha, Sebastian Rallè, and William Ponsonby, she lavished the most anxious fondness.

The old priest cared little whether life or death were his portion; for he was old, and disappointment had ever been the shadow of his hopes. But for the dead mother's sake, his heart yearned for the life of the boy. Saupoolah, ever enthusiastic and self-sacrificing, promised to convey him away secretly, and place him under the pro tection of a Canadian priest. The time appointed was four days before the intended massacre of the English, when a Council Fire of one of the neighbouring tribes would induce most of the Norridgewocks to be absent. The night preceding his departure was a weary one to Sebastian Rallè. He spent it at William's couch in wakefulness and prayer. Affections, naturally intense, were all centred on this one object; and he had nerved himself to think that he must part with him, and then lay him down and die.

The gray tints of morning rose upon him, showing the whole of his miserable little apartment in cheerless obscurity. The old priest, stern, philosophic, and rigid elsewhere, was, in the seclusion of his own apartment, as wayward and affectionate as a child. He stooped down, and, parting William's soft hair, imprinted a kiss on his forehead. The boy, half unconscious what he did, fondly nestled his cheek into the hand that rested on him. Sebastian Rallè looked upward with an expression that seemed to say, "O Father, would that this cup might pass from me." Just then the church bell, with feeble but sweet tones, announced the hour of early mass. William was on his feet in an instant, and as quickly knelt to his venerable friend to receive his customary benediction. In a few minutes, every living soul in the hamlet was within the walls of the church. Wigwams were all quiet, and canoes were wimpling about in Sandy river. The savages had all bowed down and crossed themselves before the unseen God. The broken voice of the Jesuit was heard loudly beseeching, "Ora, ora pro nobis," when armed men rushed in amid their peaceful worship. The clashing of swords, the groans of the dying, and the yells of the frantic, mingled in one horrid chaos of clamour. Not one escaped; not one. Some called out, "Save William Ponsonby and the priest!" Others aimed at the breast of the Jesuit, as if he had been the only victim desired. The English boy threw himself forward and received a stab, aimed at the heart of his old friend; and the priest, with one convulsive bound, and one loud shriek of agony, withdrew the sword and plunged it deeply in his own breast.

Saupoolah's noble heart broke with intensity of suffering. She fell lifeless by the side of the murdered William, and a dozen swords at once were pointed at her. Otoolpha cast one hurried glance upon her; and man has no power to speak the mingled rage, despair, and anguish, which that wild glance expressed. With the concentrated strength of fifty savages, he forced his way unhurt to the river side, and sprung into Saupoolah's favourite canoe. The boat filled with water; and he found that even here the treacherous revenge of his enemies would reach his life. With desperate strength he gained the shore, and ran toward the forest. His coronet and belt made him a conspicuous victim; multitudes were in pursuit; and he died covered with wounds. *** Before the setting of the sun, the pretty hamlet was reduced to ashes; and the Indians slept their last sleep beneath their own possessions. *** For many years two white crosses marked the place where the Jesuit and his English boy were buried; but they have long since been removed. The white man's corn is nourished by the bones of the Abnakis; and the name of their tribe is well nigh forgotten.

THE HOUSEHOLD FESTIVAL.

"TWAS when the harvest-moon came slowly up,
Broad, red, and glorious o'er dark groves of pine;

In the hush'd eve, when closed the flow'ret's cup,
And the blue grape hung dewy on the vine,
Forth from a porch where tendrill'd plants entwine,
Weaving a shadowy bower of odorous things,
Rich voices came, telling that there were met

Beauty and youth, and mirth, whose buoyant wings,
Soaring aloft o'er thoughts that gloom and fret,
Gave man release from care, or lured him to forget.

And, as the moon rose higher in the sky,

Casting a mimic day on all around,

Lighting dim garden paths, through branches high,
That cast their chequer'd shadows on the ground;
Light maidens, dancing with elastic bound,

Like fairy revellers, in one place were seen;

And gentle friends were slowly pacing where

The dark, thick laurels formed a bowery screen;

And merry children, like the moonlight fair

With their wild pealing laughter fill'd the perfumed air.

Another hour,-and in a lighted room,
Where glorious pictures lined the lofty wall,
They sate in social ease :-no brow of gloom,
No sadden'd, downcast eye, that might recall
Sorrowful musing, dimm'd the festival.

It was in honour of a gallant youth

Those friends were met,-the friends he dearest loved,-
All wishing he were there-and well, in sooth
Might his gray father unto tears be moved,

Listening to his grateful praise,-his tears were unreproved

Her bright eyes sparkling with delight and love, Told his young sister of his travels wide,

Of pleasant sojourn in some palmy grove,
And Indian cities in their gorgeous.pride;
Of desert isles where savage tribes abide,

And glorious shores and regions of old fame :
Then were his trophies from all lands display'd,
Belt, baracan, and bow of wondrous frame,
High nodding crest, and deadly battle blade,
And birds of curious note in glittering plumes array'd.

And, in her joyful phrase, she told how he,
Ere their next meeting, o'er the wave would come,
Like a glad spirit, to partake their glee,

And cast delight and interest round his home:
Gaily she told, how sitting in that room

When the next harvest-moon lit up the pane,
He should himself, his marvellous tales relate.
-Alas! encircled by the Indian main,
That night beneath a tamarind tree he sat

Heart-sick with thoughts of home and ponderings on his fate.
The heavy sea broke thundering on the shore,

The dark, dark night had gather'd in the sky,
And from the desert mountains came the roar

Of ravening creatures, and a wild, shrill cry
From the scared night-birds slowly wheeling by.-
And there he lay, beneath the spreading tree,
Feverish and faint, and over heart and brain

Rush'd burning love, and sense of misery,
And wild, impatient grief, and longings vain
Within his blessed home to be at rest again.

Another year-and the relentless wave

Had wash'd away the white bones from the shore ;-
And, mourning for his son, down to the grave
Had gone the old man with his locks all hoar ;-
The household festival was held no more ;-

And when the harvest-moon came forth again,

O'er the dark pines, in red autumnal state,

Her light fell streaming through the window pane
Of that old room, where his young sister sate
With her down-droop'd head, and heart all desolate.

MARY HOWITT.

BY MRS CHILD.

IN ancient times two little princesses lived in Scotland, one of whom was extremely beautiful, the other dwarfish, dark coloured, and deformed. One was named Rose, and the other Marion. The sisters did not live happily together. Marion hated Rose, because she was handsome, and every body praised her. She scowled, and her face absolutely grew black, when any body asked her how her pretty little sister Rose did; and once she was so wicked as to cut off all her glossy, golden hair, and throw it into the fire. Poor Rose cried bitterly about it; but she did not scold, or strike her sister; for she was an amiable, gentle little being as ever lived. No wonder all the family and all the neighbourhood disliked Marion-and no wonder her face grew uglier and uglier, every day. The Scots used to be a very superstitious people; and they believed the infant Rose had been blessed by the fairies, to whom she owed her extraordinary beauty and exceeding goodness.

*

Not far from the Castle where the princesses resided, was a deep grotto, said to lead to the Palace of Beauty; where the Queen of the Fairies held her court. Some said Rose had fallen asleep there one day, when she had grown tired of chasing a butterfly, and that the Queen had dipped her in an immortal fountain, from which she had risen with the beauty of an angel. Marion often asked questions about this story; but Rose always replied that she had been forbidden to speak of it. When she saw any uncommonly brilliant bird, or butterfly, she would sometimes exclaim, "Oh how much that looks like fairy-land!" But when asked what she knew about fairyland, she blushed, and would not answer.

Marion thought a great deal about this. "Why cannot I go to the Palace of Beauty?" thought she; "and why may I not bathe in the Immortal Fountain!"

One summer's noon, when all was still, save the faint twittering of the birds, and the lazy hum of the insects, Marion entered the deep grotto. She sat down on a bank of moss; the air around her was as fragrant as if it came from a bed of violets; and with a sound of far-off music dying on her ear, she fell into a gentle slumber. When she awoke it was evening; and she found herself in a small hall, where opal pillars supported a rainbow-roof, the bright reflection of which rested on crystal walls, and a golden floor inlaid with pearls. All around, between the opal pillars, stood the tiniest vases of pure alabaster, in which grew a multitude of brilliant and frag

There was a superstition that whoever slept on fairy ground was carried away by the fairies.

rant flowers; some of them, twining around the pillars, were lost in the floating rainbow above. The whole of this scene of beauty was lighted up by millions of fire-flies, glittering about like wandering stars. While Marion was wondering at all this, a little figure of rare loveliness stood before her; her robe was of green and gold; her flowing gossamer mantle was caught up on one shoulder with a pearl, and in her hair was a solitary star composed of five diamonds, each no bigger than a pin's point. And thus she sung :

The Fairy Queen
Hath rarely seen

Creature of earthly mould,
Within her door,

On pearly floor,

Inlaid with shining gold.

Mortal, all thou see'st is fair,

Quick thy purposes declare!

As she concluded, the song was taken up, and thrice repeated by a multitude of soft voices in the distance. It seemed as if birds and insects joined the chorus-the clear voice of the thrush was distinctly heard; the cricket kept time with his tiny cymbal; and ever and anon, between the pauses, the sound of a distant cascade was heard, whose waters fell in music.

All these delightful sounds died away, and the Queen of the Fairies stood patiently awaiting Marion's answer. Courtesying low, and with a trembling voice, the little maiden said, "Will it please your majesty to make me as handsome as my sister Rose?" The Queen smiled: "I will grant your request," she said, "if you will promise to fulfil all the conditions I impose." Marion eagerly promised that she would. "The Immortal Fountain," replied the Queen," is on the top of a high, steep hill; at four different places fairies are stationed around it, who guard it with their wands; none can pass them except those who obey my orders. Go home now: for one week speak no ungentle word to your sister—at the end of that time, come again to the grotto."

Marion went home light of heart. Rose was in the garden watering the flowers; and the first thing Marion observed, was that her sister's sunny hair had suddenly grown as long and beautiful as it had ever been. The sight made her angry; and she was just about to snatch the water-pot from her hand with an angry expression; but she remembered the fairy, and passed into the castle in silence. The end of the week arrived, and Marion had faithfully kept her promise. Again she went to the grotto. The queen was feasting when she entered the hall. The bees brought honeycomb and deposited it on the small rose-coloured shells, which adorned the crystal table: gaudy butterflies floated about the head of the Queen, and fanned