she speaks to her, and then cajoling her with a thousand blandishments, and kisses, and flatteries, to seduce her.' Here Gigandet, having exhausted his breath, paused, looked solemn, and then, casting up his eyes, resumed, in a soliloquial way, his reflections. Old dotards have such feeble minds! She may leave her all to her because she is her niece, as if that relationship was sufficient reason for so doing. A shop girl!' cried Gigandet, his virtuous heart swelling indignantly at the idea of such as her having any claim upon any body's affection or estate; a beggar!' he added, with all the force of venom in his frame; 'a gadding magpie, to boot, I am sure! And shall we allow her,' he exclaimed, with great energy-shall we allow her to rob us of our beautiful success, cousin Baculard ?' 'No, truly,' replied Baculard, in an explosion of indignation, which had been communicated to him by the noble spirit of his kinsman; we must not allow ourselves to be thus despoiled.' He paused, and gasped, and then inquired eagerly, while the perspiration rolled down his face, 'Do you know of any means to prevent her designs?' Mlle. Duperron is a very good woman,' said Gigandet, with a smile, and without doubt holds morality in high esteem, being now sixty-four years of age. If she should come to understand, then, that her niece-,' and here Gigandet winked his eyes very hard, while Baculard, eagerly interrupting him, exclaimed, with a knowing smile, I have you. I will undertake to find the information.' And while you are gathering the information,' said Gigandet, coolly, 'the testament will be made, and that second attack of paralysis which we hope for, and which I begin to fear, will have taken place. It would take some time to get up the true case,' he continued, although, of course, you know we could easily prove it. I am sure that I hate deceit,' exclaimed the virtuous man, laying his hand upon the place beneath which a heart should have beat; but with a low shop-girl, so young and so pretty, we run no risk of falling into a mistake. A mistake!' repeated Gigandet, laying his hand on his cousin's shoulder, and winking at him, as if his eyes had been two will-o'wisps dancing before a prize ox, to lead it into a quagmire. It comes all to the same thing, you know,' he continued, with a most genial smile. There must be no time lost the information must be furnished directly; and your business must be to find proofs.'

Baculard was not so bright in the moral eyes as to see any objection to come to this conclusion, and so the thing was settled.

The two wiseacres, like many other people in this world who think themselves very wise, took what they supposed to be true for granted, without any demur or question. Bless us! some folks never make mistakes; they are never for a moment divergent from the true centre of judgment; they have such subtle and perfect intuitions, such clear perceptions of everything according to their own vanities, that they never take the trouble to exercise the vulgar attribute of reflection. Gigandet and Baculard, full of this beautiful and enviable state of prescience, never took the trouble to inquire whether the damsel ascended to the house of Mlle. Duperron, or whether she was even known to her. Blinded by that allblinding passion avarice, they assured themselves of acting most excellently and casually, and so they dispatched to their respectable relative a letter full of the usual anonymous protestations of pure motives and griefs, and so forth, but containing the grievous intimation that the conduct of Louise Duperron, her grandniece, the shopgirl in the Rue Neuve des Petits Champs, was so scandalous and disgraceful to the name she bore, that she no longer merited her aunt's countenance or indulgence.

Mlle. Agnes Duperron, the grandaunt of the poor Louise, was a native of Bourges, and daughter of the printer to the archbishop. Her father had reared her with great care, and with all that strictness which pertained to his position in the world, and his peculiar connection with the cathedral. Nature, which had given to her a most beautiful form, had also endowed her with one of the sweetest, richest, and most flexible of voices. Struck

with the warblings of the child, the chapel organist had asked permission of his friend, her father, to cultivate the incipient powers of his daughter, and in the solitude and solemn presence of the vaulted church he taught her his art, until her voice, filled with the music of her soul, would rise and fall in such rich and thrilling melody that her master often forgot that she was his pupil, and would weep, as his feelings were subdued by her song. As she increased in years her powers as a cantatrice became strengthened and elevated, for she added to her fine natural capacities an ardent zeal, which rendered the labours of the organist and her own progress easy and rapid. Not in all the city of Bourges was there a more beautiful maiden than Agnes; and when the full clear swell of the oratorio lent its hundred voices in the cathedral to the solemn music of the organ, the sweetest, most angelic voice in all that tuneful band was that of the printer's daughter.

In 1785 a troop of opera-singers paid a visit to Bourges. The organist, proud of his pupil, and full of the glory of teaching such a songstress, had boasted to the first tenor of the troop, that in six months he might have such a cantatrice in his band as had seldom before trod the operatic boards; and Agnes being introduced to the operasinger, was forthwith induced to study Italian, and, despite of the entreaties of her family, to appear upon the stage. Under the assumed name of Signera Brambilla she acquired in a short time fame and a fortune. Renouncing the theatre, which she had never lovedre-assuming her own name, which she had laid aside only that she might preserve it in purity-and returning to France, still young, and with sufficient means to gratify her benevolent intentions to her family, she was fated to find her father dead, and her brother occupying his situation and house, from which he indignantly drove her as one who had disgraced her father's name. Agnes bent her head submissively to the harsh decree, and established herself in Paris, where she had attained to sixty-four years of age, without having heard one word of a single relative save her cousins Gigandet and Baculard, who had now recalled, unwittingly to themselves, thoughts of her dear old home, her father, and even her harsh brother, whose grandchild held so humble a situation in so obscure a street in Paris.

Mlle. Duperron had lived alone for thirty years. She had had no objection to marry, but then she was ambitious of marrying a man; and as she had unfortunately been wooed by none but fortune-hunters and fools, she had renounced all ideas of matrimony some years after her establishment in the capital, and had gradually contracted her sphere of acquaintance, and retired into a peaceful and calm solitude.

There were not many women who had studied human character so successfully as Agnes Duperron, and there were not many women who had warmer or nobler hearts, so that cousins Gigandet and Baculard had an intelligent as well as a respectable relative, and Louise Duperron, unknown to herself, a loving aunt.

Unfortunately for the plot of these last-named gentlemen, Mlle. Duperron was sitting in a quiet, reflective mood in her bed-chamber, when the anonymous letter was presented to her, which, instead of producing anything like the result anticipated by the malicious plotters, called up her saddest and her fondest feelings.

A Duperron a shop-girl in the Rue Neuve des Petits Champs!' exclaimed the old lady, raising her hand and eyes; 'oh! when did she come there ? She is doubtless less wealthy than her grandfather was, and will not refuse to see me. Where shall I find her, poor girl?' and the voice of the aged lady trembled with emotion. 'A sempstress in that little obscure street, and perhaps suffering from wants that the labour of her little fingers cannot supply! Marcel!' she cried, ringing her bell and calling a faithful attendant, take my carriage, and visit the house of every sempstress in the street named in that note, and when you have found one having an apprentice called Louise Duperron, bring that girl to me, with a

parcel of anything you can get it is of little matter whether it be neckerchiefs or handkerchiefs.'

Marcel had often engaged in more difficult enterprises than this, and it was not long, therefore, before she returned with the young apprentice. The old woman gazed upon the girl's fair, elastic form, which her crushing toil had not yet bent nor worn, and in her beautiful face, which had not yet been touched with the consumptive pallor of too protracted labour, she was carried back to the days of her own youth and beauty, and, sighing, she turned to her maid and said, 'Marcel, how beautiful she is! Do you not think that she somewhat resembles me ?'

The young sempstress started, and looked timidly upon the old and withered face of the paralytic, and a smile of innocent incredulity gathered on her beautiful lips, as she caught the import of her words; but still the tone in which these words were uttered was so full of heart and earnestness that the girl looked, as if waiting for an explanation, in so respectful a manner that the heart of her aged relative yearned towards her.

'Marcel,' said Mlle. Duperron, bring my miniature, and present it to this sweet maiden, and she will see if I depreciated her beauty in saying she was like me.'

The picture had been taken when Agnes Duperron was in the full glory of her charms and of her renown; and as Louise gazed upon it she could not restrain her admiration. Indeed, madam, you have paid me but too great a compliment,' she said, with the most modest and charming naïvete.

Then, my dear,' said the aged dame, smiling, 'if you think that I have not spoken falsely with regard to our personal resemblance, perhaps we may be able to discover some others as striking. You are called Duperron -Louise Duperron-are you not?'

'Yes, madam,' said the young woman, surprised at the question.

'Your father was of Bourges ?' continued the old lady, with a meaning smile.

'He is resident in his native city still,' answered the girl, looking fixedly at her interrogator.

And you are in Paris alone?'

'Alas, madam, we are poor,' said the girl, in a gentle voice, and we must go where we can earn our bread.'

'With that beautiful face your necessities to toil must not be great;' and as the aged catechist uttered these words in a low, meaning tone, she fixed her eyes on the face of the maiden.

The warm, pure blood of innocence suffused the cheeks and neck of that fair girl with a blush as radiant and glowing as a sunbeam. Her bosom heaved with an emotion of offended modesty that only could express itself in sighs and tears. Like a young beauteous Niobe before censorious Hecate, she stood with bent head and streaming eyes, and sobbed like a sleeping child.

Ah, my child!' said her aunt, affected by her emotion, 'it is ever thus that envy operates; malicious tongues would poison the very air that virtue breathes, and malicious pens write stigmas upon the brow of beauty, merely because it is beautiful. But be ever true to virtue and yourself, and fear not. Here,' she continued, lifting the handkerchiefs which Louise had brought for her inspection; I did not ask you to come to me for nothing, for that would have been unjust to your employer and yourself. Take these kerchiefs, then, from me,' and she placed them in the girl's hand.

'For me, madam!' cried Louise, looking at the present and then at the aged dame, as if incredulous of her intentions.

'Yes, for you; and are they not very beautiful?' said the old lady, smiling; they are charming, are they not? Then take them, my darling, and in exchange for them embrace me; and if your mistress ask of you where you have been, you can tell her at the house of my old aunt Agnes."'

The maiden looked at the delighted old woman for some seconds; then, placing her arms round her neck and kissing her aged lips, she exclaimed, in low, soft tones,

How happy I am to have found you! And are you indeed my aunt?'

Ay, that I am, my child!' and she wept as she said so. Several weeks after this event, the second attack of paralysis, anticipated by Gigandet and Baculard, actually proved fatal to Mlle. Duperron; and her remains having been consigned to the earth, these worthies were summoned to her mansion by her notary, where, to their horror and dismay, they beheld, seated in their ancient relative's easy chair, the young and blooming Louise Duperron.

'Gentlemen,' said the notary, in a grave, solemn voice, as he glanced first at his black flowing habit and then at the cousins, Mlle. Duperron, my client, has placed in my hands a testamentary act, which I shall read to you as you are parties concerned.'

Seating himself and slowly unrolling the precious paper, he coughed three several times and looked three times round the room, while the body of M. Gigandet shook like a poplar in a storm, and M. Baculard perspired as if he had been in an oven. 'I, the undersigned, &c.,' began the notary, 'desiring to give to all the members of my family whom I have known a token of the esteem and affection which they have inspired, desire that my goods may be divided amongst them in the following manner: First, I bequeath to my cousin Gigandet the tongs of my bed-room; they are the longest and smallest in the house. Secondly, I leave to my cousin Baculard the bellows of my parlour; they are the biggest in my possession. All the rest that pertains to me I bequeath to my dear niece, Louise Duperron, whom I discovered through an anonymous letter, who is specially charged with the execution of the legacies already named.'

'Gentlemen,' said Louise, rising as the notary finished reading; but Gigandet neither allowed her time for explanation nor comment; he bounded from the house as rapidly as if he had been Mlle. Duperron's tongs on wings, while the perspiration broke over the brow of M. Baculard, and his respiration became as loud as on the day when he made his first declaration of love.

'Gentlemen,' said the notary, with a wicked smile, as he cast his eye knowingly upon the legs of the one fugitive and the paunch of the other, 'I promise to keep your secret.'

He might have spared himself that declaration, however; for our readers have now the secret, independent of his lawyerly caution.

Louise Duperron became rich, but she did not become proud. As she had been virtuous in poverty, so was she modest and charitable in wealth; but yet she could not look at the tongs or bellows already named without remembering with a smile the legatees, who never came to claim them.

A MODEL LANDOWNER. THE Island of Lewis, or the Lews, the largest of the Hebrides, forms part of the county of Ross, and was for a long period the property of the noble family of Seaforth. It was purchased from the Hon. Mrs Mackenzie of Seaforth early in the year 1844, by the present proprietor, James Matheson, Esq. of Achany, now member of Parliament for Ross-shire. The purchase-money was about £200,000. This princely estate consists of upwards of 274,000 Scots acres, and embraces a population of nearly 20,000 human beings. The great mass of the surface of this island consists of moorish pasture, and Mr Matheson, acting in a way which we would wish to see followed by our Scottish landlords generally, immediately on acquiring the property of the island, set himself to the twofold object of improving and reclaiming the waste land, and industrially employing the native inhabitants. In doing this he has spared neither trouble nor expense; and so extensive have been his operations and improvements that, for a considerable period, he was spending probably at the rate of £1000 a-week. He has greatly improved and extended the roads in the island, and constructed

cient supply of labour. The interior is unoccupied except by a few woodcutters, and only frequented by the red Indians. British Guiana is not within the range of hurricanes, although the wind at times is high, and now and then a shock of an earthquake is felt. The thermometer ranges in the dry season from 80 to 90 deg. Fahrenheit, in the shade. In the rainy season the writer bas never observed it lower than 72 deg. The change of seasons is pretty regular. There are two rainy and two dry seasons. During the long dry season, which commences with September, and lasts till the middle of December, an easterly sea-breeze prevails almost without interruption, by which the heat is moderated, and the climate rendered healthy and delightful. During the rainy season the land-winds predominate, but not to the exclusion of the sea-breeze at times; nor does the rain fall then so incessantly as it does in Africa and the East Indies. The climate is not so unhealthy as has been represented in various pamphlets which have been published on the subject of British Guiana, since instances of old age are frequently met with among both Europeans and others. The great mortality at times may be accounted for by the returning visitation of epidemic diseases, which every other country is subject to in its turn; or it may be found in the imprudent exposure to wet and heat, and still more in the habit of intemperance to which Europeans seem particularly tempted in the tropics. It is no exaggeration to state that three-fifths of the deaths, within the course of one year, are produced by the latter cause alone. On a comparison of the statistics of mortality of late, with those of former years, the result is decidedly in favour of its being more healthy at present than heretofore. The yellow fever, which occasionally ravages the town and its vicinity, seems to be owing entirely to local causes, and would doubtless be remedied, were a wall constructed along the side of the river, so as to do away with the wharfs at present in use, under which filth of all kinds is allowed to accumulate. The inhabitants of the interior are subject to flux and intermittent fevers, which, when properly and promptly treated, do not necessarily prove fatal. The former is caused by drinking the water which flows in the creeks, and which is strongly impregnated with decayed vegetable matter. The latter is most prevalent at the change of the seasons, and is produced by exposure to wet, cold, or heat. Ophthalmia is also frequently met with among the Indians, and is chiefly owing to their want of cleanliness, or the incessant glare on the water during the dry season. Other diseases are rarely found, and if met with, may invariably be traced to constitutional causes.'

This country is teeming with beasts, birds, and reptiles, and its aboriginal inhabitants are tribes of Indians who possess those grand features of character, colour, and customs which are common to all the American Indians. One tribe is an illustration of the whole.' The Arraways inhabit the Upper Demerara, the Mazarooni, and Putaro, and amount probably to six hundred fighting men. The colour of their skin is of a deeper red than that of the Arrawak. They live in a state of perfect nudity, and paint their bodies red with the arnatto, or deep blue with the lana. Sometimes they will paint one side red, the other blue. The face is painted in streaks, in which performance they seem to be very particular, as the women not unfrequently spend hours at their toilet, when preparing for the dance. They perforate the cartilage of the nose, and wear a piece of wood in it, which often is of the size of a finger. They rub their bodies with the oil of the carapa, to defend themselves against the bite of insects, it being of a bitter taste and nauseous smell. The Arraways are a quarrelsome and warlike people, jealous and suspicious, and, on that account, dreaded by all others. Having planted their fields, they move from place to place, living upon the hospitality of their friends while their own cassava is ripening, when they again return home, and show the same friendship to others. During an expedition, they invariably travel for three days, and halt for two, in order to fish, hunt, and dry their game. When

in times of war they approach a defenceless place, they attack it, murder those who resist their violence, and carry off the rest as slaves. They are determined humorists, and fond of bestowing nicknames on each other as well as strangers, whatever be their rank or quality. If this conduct is taken with good humour by those in authority over them, they yield in return prompt and ready obedience to their wishes and commands; and if once they form an attachment to any individual, their affection is unalterable, and so on the other hand their hatred is inveterate. In manners they are more savage than any other tribe. The law of revenge is in full force among this tribe, and they suppose that whenever any have died, it must be from the effects of poison. They are exceedingly credulous, and it is not safe to offend even a child. Notwithstanding all this, I have never experienced the slightest insult from any of them, they being convinced that I had come among them to do them good, although at times their demeanour was anything but friendly and encouraging. The Carabese occupy the upper parts of the Essequibo, Cayung, Pomeroon, and Corantyn rivers. They have so decreased in numbers, that it would be difficult now to collect a hundred of them together in the country below the rapids, where twenty years ago they mustered a thousand fighting men. They are very haughty in their deportment and much addicted to drinking, which, among other causes, will speedily exterminate the whole tribe. They are brave, credulous, obstinate, and their opinion once formed is never modified by circumstances. The women are very fond of ornaments, and invent strange devices to render themselves acceptable in the sight of their husbands. They perforate the under lip, and wear a pin or pins in it. There is every probability that the Carabese must once have been the lords of the islands, as the names of many rivers, islands, and other localities, are evidently Carabese. The Carabese are easily distinguished from any of the other tribes, as they invariably have a large lump of the arnatto fastened to the hair of their foreheads. They are also very indiscriminate in the use of animal food; tigers, dogs, rats, frogs, and insects of various kinds, are greedily devoured by them, which I have never observed to be done by others.'

It is among such people as these that the high-souled missionary trusts himself without any of those weapons which men have generally so long reckoned essential for their protection. With a full consciousness of the power of Christian love, and faith in the all-protecting providence of God, these men peacefully invade the dark nations of the far-off islands of the deep, in order to expel the night of ignorance from the soul, and to plant in its stead the beaming taper of Christianity. This is courage which truly deserves the name of heroism, and is worthy of all honour and imitation. No one who has not attended to the subject can form any conception of the difficulties and disheartening circumstances with which the missionaries have to contend while prosecuting their noble enterprises, unsupported save by faith. Sometimes the settlers throw every obstacle in the way of their success, stirring up the people to believe them evil in their designs; and sometimes governments, by injudicious interference, destroy all their moral power, and force them to give up their stations. Private benevolence has almost wholly furnished the means of sending the missionary to the heathen; and the courage and faith of Christian men, who have given themselves voluntarily to this work, have most effectually sustained the progress of missionary labour. Long prior to the commencement of the labours of the Church Missionary Society here, of which Mr Bernau gives an especial account, there had been Christian pioneers in that dark region of Guiana. These were 'that devoted band of Christians, who from of old have been the standard-bearers of the cross of Christ; and who, although persecuted in the land which gave them birth, gladly forsook their home and their all to preach the unsearchable riches of Christ among the Gentiles. This faithful band is no other than the Moravians,' who, with a single eye to God's glory, have prosecuted their quiet and unobtru

sive labours to promote the salvation of thousands among our fellow-creatures. No region of this globe seems to have been so remote but that these messengers of peace were ready there to impart those blessings which they themselves enjoyed through faith in Him in whom the fulness of the Godhead dwells bodily, and unto whom the uttermost ends of the earth are given for a possession. We find them among Greenland's icy mountains, and on the pestilential shores of Africa; there and everywhere scattering the blessings of Christ's salvation. And although, in God's mysterious providence, many of their missions have been deserted, whilst others have proved unsuccessful, this ought not to hinder us from giving glory to God, on their behalf, nor tempt us to think lightly of their disinterested, devoted, and self-denying labours. As early as the year 1738, two missionaries proceeded to Berbice, and having no opportunity of instructing the negro slaves, they went among the Indians. The Indians living widely scattered through an immense wilderness, the missionaries had many difficulties and hardships to encounter in visiting them. On these occasions they were obliged to carry with them a supply of cassava-bread for five or more days; to have their hammocks on their shoulders; to sleep on them suspended on trees in the woods; to wade through brooks and rivers, and often to travel great distances without meeting with a hut or human being. If they came to the huts of the Indians when the men happened to be absent, the women fled with their children into the neighbouring thicket, uttering a fearful shriek. Having, by the help of a mulatto youth, translated into the Arrawak language an account of the life of Christ, the missionaries, in the course of their visits, read this compendium to the natives. They seemed at first little affected by these attempts; and it was not till some years had passed that the missionaries baptised some as the first fruits of their labours. Most of the converts, and some even of the unbaptised, now built huts at ' Pilgerhut,' that they might have an opportunity of daily enjoying Christian instruction. The more religion spread among them, the more were the missionaries animated to prosecute their work with energy and zeal. No wilderness appeared to them too frightful, no road too dreary, no Indian hut too remote, if they might hope to find a soul ready to receive the Gospel. The mission had no sooner assumed a promising aspect, than the jealousy of some of the Dutch planters was roused. The missionaries were required to take the oath to government, to whom their motives and designs had been misrepresented, and with respect to which their enemies well knew they had conscientious scruples. Disappointed in this stratagem-for government absolved them from the obligation-they attempted to drive away the Indians by circulating a report that the missionaries designed to make them slaves-a rumour admirably calculated to rouse the jealousy of the savages, as the idea of slavery is more frightful to them than death itself. In the year 1753, the number of Indians who resided at the station amounted to upwards of two hundred and sixty, and was daily increasing. But not long after, the whole country was visited with a severe scarcity which lasted several years. This was followed by an epidemic disorder, in consequence of which a great number of people died, both Indians and Europeans. Several of the missionaries died, and the Indians began to disperse again in the woods. The rest, however, resolved to maintain their post, in the hope of the return of more auspicious times; but alas! this hope was never realised. In the year 1763, the negroes in the colony rose in rebellion against their masters, murdered many of the white people, and laid waste the whole country. At length they came near the mission, and the missionaries were obliged to abandon the settlement and escape for their lives. Great were the dangers with which they were surrounded on all sides; and they did not reach the town near the coast without undergoing many privations and overcoming great difficulties. At last they safely arrived at New Amsterdam, and left with the first ship for Europe. Two of the missionaries remained until they

should receive instructions from home with respect to their future proceedings, but died before the letters reached them. Such was the melancholy termination of the labours of the Moravians in Berbice.

After the year 1754, Messrs Daehne and Ralfs, two of the missionaries, were charged to commence another mission further to the east. They selected two different pieces of ground for the purpose; the one on the river Sarameca, the other on the Corantyn, which were both granted them by government. In 1757, they commenced their labours on the river Sarameca, and called the station Sharon. Here they were joined by a large number of Indians, so that in a short time they had a congregation around them. The mission began to assume a very promising aspect, but it met with a powerful enemy in the free negroes. These people were originally slaves, who had escaped from their masters and taken refuge in the woods, where they maintained their independence, and whence they often committed depredations on the estates, in spite of all that government could do. To annihilate them, a reward of fifty florins was given by government for every slave whom the Indians captured and carried back. This circumstance, naturally enough, excited the enmity of the negroes against the Indians, and they resolved to destroy the mission. Accordingly, in January, 1761, a band of these marauders came to the neighbourhood of Sharon to accomplish their design. It was on the Lord's day wher they made the attack; but being afraid to approach the house of the missionaries, where several of the Indians had fled, armed with guns, they continued firing from behind the trees. Mr Olden- || wald, one of the missionaries, was wounded by a ball in the arm. At last they set fire to the house, and compelled its inmates to quit it and flee into the thicket. The work of destruction being accomplished (for every house was burned down, including the church), they took their departure. On the return of the missionaries, Oldenwald was found still bleeding from the wound he had received; ' three Indians lay dead on the ground, and eleven others were carried away prisoners. Notwithstanding this terrible disaster, the missionaries determined to remain, in the hope that the revenge of the negroes was satisfied. Government, much against their inclination, gave them a guard of fifteen soldiers; but these proved only a burden to them and a serious disadvantage to the Indians. The mission having passed through many vicissitudes, was at last relinquished in the year 1779. The rest of the missionaries joined Mr Daehne on the Corantyn.

This enterprising missionary had commenced a new settlement on the river Corantyn, in the year 1757. The Indians who accompanied him there soon left him, except one, with whom he lived a very solitary life. After some time his only companion was taken ill, and the Indian doctors who passed by told him he would never recover if he continued to live with the white man, who was under the power of the devil, and would likewise soon turn sick. Influenced by these representations, the poor fellow, as soon as he got a little better, forsook his teacher, and returned to his own countrymen. But though Daehne was left alone without either friend or companion, even in this solitude he was content and happy. * Our Saviour,' says he,

was always with me, and comforted me with his gracious presence, so that I can truly say, I spent my time in happiness and peace.' The Indians at first entertained strong suspicions against him, and even formed the design of putting him to death. He was informed of his danger, but his mind was kept in perfect peace. One day, however, as he sat at his frugal meal, about fifty of the Carabese landed from their canoes, and surrounded his cottage with a view of carrying their threats into execution. Some of them were armed with swords, others with tomahawks. This was truly an alarming sight; nevertheless he went out, and bade them welcome. They then asked him, through the medium of an interpreter, Who gave him liberty to build on their land? To this he replied, The governor.' They next inquired, What design he had in coming thither ? To which he answered,