ity. The two husbands had only time to give him a cordial shake of the hand, for they were wanted at the wood-pile.

The young women conducted us to the house, treated us with a glass of new milk, rarely to be found on the river, and expressed their joy at seeing the father in a thousand ways. They were urgent with him to remain, and said they had got a christening for him. "And which does the new-comer belong to?" said he, "Blaisée or Jeanette?"

"Now you will tell yourself," said one of the young women, taking an infant from the bed where it lay. The priest, however, protested it looked as much like one as the other, and Blaisée acknowledged it was Jeanette's.

The hour passed rapidly away; the two young women spoke English imperfectly, and conversed in French with the father. I gathered something of their history from the pleasant allusions they made, which were often followed by shouts of laughter on all sides. They walked down to the boat with us, and I could not but be struck with the contrast their husbands formed both to them and each other. They were apparently New England Americans; one of them a true Yankee, the other with an air of greater refinement, but evidently brothers. They were not less cordial than their wives, and there seemed to be the most perfect harmony amongst them.

When we returned to the boat, I began to question the priest about his friends that we had just parted with. "O," said he, "it is a little history; I have it all written down. You will stop at Natchez; there I usually reside. I will find it and give it to you."

He faithfully fulfilled his promise; it was a parting bequest, for I found he did not mean to continue with us.

I was somewhat surprised to find that it was chiefly written in French, for he spoke English perfectly well. I can only, therefore, give my own translation.

THE PRIEST'S STORY.

John White was a native of Connecticut. He married early, and by daily industry contrived to earn a comfortable living. Allured, however, by the marvellous stories of the wealth and fertility that bordered the Ohio, he determined to remove there, and thankfully accept the plenty which Providence, he was told, showered down upon new settlers without their being obliged to toil for it.

With this prospect before him, he sold his thriving little farm, and putting his goods and chattels into one wagon, and his wife and children into another, began his long journey to the West.

No one will doubt that he met with hardships by the way. Often they were out in

violent rains, which were sure to be followed by rheumatic pains and aches. The first summer after their arrival, his wife and two of his children were attacked by fever and ague. They, however, lived through it, and recovered. The next spring his cow was swamped and they lost her, and just as her obsequies were performed, one of his oxen died. Still, however, his grain sprang up luxuriantly; the climate, setting aside fever and ague, and frequent rains, which often spoiled their hay and blighted their grain, was just what they could have wished. But John found he had not escaped from hard labor; that nothing grew spontaneously; that the sentence pronounced on father Adam seemed to be in full force on the Ohio; "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread." By dint of fifteen years of hard labor, he found himself nearly as well off, as when he sold his little farm, and came to the land of promise to make his fortune.

In one respect, however, they had thrived beyond their most sanguine expectations. Their offspring had increased to twelve in number. In the patriarchal age this was said to be wealth. John, however, had read no treatises on population; he thought only of the twelve hungry mouths that were to be fed; and, as by all his industry he had not been able to purchase more land than he and one of his sons could work, he proposed to the son who was his namesake, to emigrate to the banks of the Arkansas. John, however, had his own plans; he very willingly consented to quit the homestead, but claimed the right of going where he pleased. They all went to work and built him a raft on which there was a small shed, into which he could crawl, and by drawing his feet up and forming an angle with his body, be tolerably well sheltered from the rain, if it chanced to come. All that could be spared from the family provisions without occasioning a famine, was stowed into John's shed. Moreover, his mother generously added a pewter quart, a pair of tongs on which he could broil his venison, and a cracked teakettle that was made nearly tight by crowding Indian meal into the crevices.

With his rifle, and fifteen hard dollars in his pocket, John took leave of his five brothers and six little sisters. It was not so affecting a scene as may be imagined. Want and hardship give a wonderful obtuseness to the sentimentality of affection. We cannot, however, in justice to maternal tenderness, pass over the tears which fell from his mother's eyes, and which she unostentatiously wiped away with the back of her hand as she saw him depart. Between John and Edward, who were twin-brothers, there were, by this parting, many associations rent asunder, and John promised his brother that, if he succeeded in his plan, which he had not

yet communicated, he would send for him to join him.

It is very common for settlers to emigrate with families, cattle, household utensils, &c., but few were so desolate as poor John; he left the parental dwelling without a living thing he could call his own, except a dog that had been given to one of the children, which the prudent mother discovered lived by eating. As she was too tender-hearted to commit murder, she told John he might drop him into the river, she did not doubt he could swim. John, however, had no feeling of solitude or desolation. He had just entered his twentieth year; he measured good six feet, was stout of limb, full of life and activity, and had never fallen in love; he therefore could look at the moon, which happened to be near its full the first night of his voyage, without any sensation of melancholy. On the contrary, he thought of it merely as a glorious lamp hung in the heavens, and rather wondered that it was only lighted occasionally.

Merrily it cheered him on his way, as the tide bore along his clumsy raft. As for Shock, his fellow-traveller, it never entered John's head to throw him overboard; on the contrary, he shared so bountifully with him his Indian cake and dried venison, that probably poor Shock thought the times were greatly improved.

After a few days John began to get a little out of patience; at first he amused himself by making arithmetical figures on a board with a piece of chalk, and drawing lines that resembled a chart, but right glad was he when he arrived at Louisville, and made his raft fast to an old trunk of a tree, that grew on the bank of the Ohio.

He sprang on shore, followed by his friend Shock, who had by indulgence become quite self-important. As the ideas of dogs as well as men are graduated on habit and custom, Shock, unlike dogs of quality, made it a point to bark and growl at every well-dressed person; whereas, he discovered a sort of native affection for every shabby-looking fellow he met.

The time had now arrived when John was to mature the plan which had been floating in his head. He walked along with a firm step and an animated countenance by the wharves where the steamboats were anchored, with their pennons streaming in the wind. It was a joyous sight to him; true, he had constantly seen steamboats passing on the Ohio, but they were nothing to him, now he felt as if he owned them all, they were to become a mine of wealth for him, and even Shock went frisking along, as if he expected a snug berth in the steerage.

There lay Uncle Sam, the Red Rover, the Philadelphia, the Louisiana, in all their magnitude. There, too, occupying a humbler

space, lay the Don Juan, the Magnolia and Lady Byron.*

John singled out a steamboat, not because it was more captivating than any of the others, but because there was more bustle on board, and they were unloading it. Some people seem born to good fortune; just as John arrived at the spot, one of the hands, who was assisting in removing bales of cotton, received an accidental blow from a windlass, which laid him prostrate. John sprang forward and took his place; he worked with all his strength, and soon attracted the attention of the captain, who asked him whether he wanted" employ."

Our adventurer requested a private audience, and before they parted, John considered his fortune as made. Not that his dollars had accumulated in number; on the contrary, they had lessened, for he had bought some necessary implements for his business. He was no short-sighted calculator, his plans were thoroughly formed, and he often boasted that he did not tell every thing he knew.”

Two whole days he and Shock spent at Louisville, going about among the steamboats and surveying the town. Their living did not cost them much. John was able to earn a meal for both, by his readiness to lend a hand wherever work was going on, and at night they slept on board the raft. He felt no envy when he saw the wagons filled with emigrants, standing under the tall trees, above the falls at Louisville, opposite Jeffersonville.

Once more he and his dog embarked, and to their great joy left the Ohio, for Shock made it a rule to be pleased when his master was. They soon entered the broad Mississippi, and went rapidly on, without stopping to observe that the waters looked more yellow and turbid than those of the Ohio, as most travellers do. The tide was always in his favor, and that was all he thought of much consequence.

We cannot be positive how many days passed before John accomplished his voyage. He moored his raft in a sort of swamp, not many yards from the piece of dry ground formed by the batture, that now looks so cultivated. This John gained, and with Shock at his heels, stood upon it with the proud consciousness which a man feels when he has overcome obstacles. That very hour he went to work cutting down trees at a furious rate. Shock at first stood wishfully looking at his master, perhaps thinking he had lost his reason, but by degrees he became accustomed to this employment, and undoubtedly ceased to wonder at it.

Day after day John kept at work. Many

*I copy the manuscript of the priest. Probably these steamboats have long since been blown up or snagged.

were the steamboats that passed, but he took no notice of them or they of him. At length a huge pile of wood gradually arose, and then the ultimatum of his plan was accomplished. He took a very smooth white board and wrote upon it in black letters:

"Wode for stem-botes two dollers and a haff per cord sould here."

This board was fastened to a long pole, and placed fairly in view of all passers-by. His expectations were not immediately answered; -he saw many a steamboat go puffing by, and sending out volumes of smoke-and making a whizzing and hissing, as if in derision of his wood-pile. Still, however, he was not disheartened, but kept steadily at work.

Let no man be discouraged at the present. There is nothing inevitable but death, and the consequences of vice. He who keeps a good conscience, however dark may be his prospects, may look forward to brighter days.

There are eras in every one's life on which they dwell with particular pleasure. John never forgot the delight with which he saw the first steamboat making for his wood-pile. It was a fine clear morning,-he had watched her a long while with that hope which brightens our perceptions.

Steamboats have been compared to monsters, to fiery dragons, and to sea-serpents; but had John been classical, he would have thought this as beautiful as Venus first rising from the ocean, when he discovered that it was actually the very same boat which belonged to the captain with whom he had held the conference at Louisville, and who had engaged to regularly supply himself with wood at his landing.

That night John repaired to his raft, where he and Shock still slept, with twenty dollars added to his worldly fortune. The next morning he went to work to build himself a log-house; this he accomplished in a short time, and then began to think of his twinbrother, Edward. There was now employment enough for two. Not only this steamboat engaged to stop regularly as it went up and down the river, but brought him the good news, that others would do the same.

It was not difficult to get intelligence to Edward by one of the steamboats, and in due season he arrived at his brother's habitation. The spot had first been pointed out to John by the captain at Louisville, as one of the most advantageous for a wood-landing. Edward could scarcely believe his own eyes, when he saw how much his brother had accomplished. From this time they entered into partnership, sharing alike their labors and their profits. There were no written bonds, all was done by mutual agreement, and Shock was equally the favorite of both brothers. The constant intercourse they had with the steamboats enlarged their ideas, the

rough little settlement began to assume the form of a plantation,-a garden with rows of vegetables on one side, and patches of Indian corn on the other, was fenced in from the cattle that they had purchased. The clumsy raft was exchanged for a batteau, and the brothers often made excursions to Natchez, which was sixty or seventy miles below, and returned with many household comforts.

On one of these excursions, John met with a lively little brunette that, for the first time in his life, inspired him with the feeling of love. He could not get her out of his head or heart; and instead of rising before the dawn of day, to resume his work, lay dozing and dreaming about the lively French girl at Natchez. But there was one difficulty; she spoke very little English, and how could John make his wishes known? He did however contrive to make her understand them, and discovered no reluctance to his advances.

She soon learnt to converse with John in broken English, and agreed to marry him without a long courtship.

From this time the little homestead wore a new face. There are embellishments which belong to female taste, that men scarcely comprehend. Blaisée, John's new wife, gave a neat and pleasant appearance to their abode. She planted vines and flowers, and adorned their apartments in various ways.

Edward began to think there was no reason why he should not have a wife too. He consulted his sister-in-law on the subject. She happened to be acquainted with twenty at least, who were just the thing for him.

Do you like de blue eyes or de black?" asked the lively brunette.

Edward was at that moment looking at hers, which were sparkling like sunbeams on the water, and he answered without hesitation-Black."

"Ah my good broder," said she, "I am so sorry, because I know one very charming girl that be just de ting; she would make de sun shine all de day for you, and never go into cloud as it sometimes do.'

It must be confessed that Edward had his occasional clouds, and Blaisée was sure that a good and cheerful wife might soften the little asperities of his nature, which were wholly incomprehensible to her gentle and equable disposition; for she said "the sun always did seem to shine for her even if it was dark night."

She was never weary of telling Edward of the virtues of her friend whom she had selected for his wife; she dwelt upon her long and devoted attention to her sick grandmother, upon her kindness to every body, her neatness and economy,-but usually concluded, Ah, I am so sorry Ma'mselle Renard has not de eyes black."

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At length, business called one of the brothers to Natchez, and it was decided that Ed

John good-naturedly proposed Blaisée's accompanying him, but she playfully replied: 'My good friend, you not get rid of me so soon. I will stay and make ready for them, against they come back so happy.-You will tink no more of de eyes black, when you see de eyes blue."

For the first time Edward seemed to be laboring under apparent emotion, for he looked tearfully at his brother's wife, and exclaimed, Never, never."

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Strange thoughts crossed the innocent mind of Blaisée as the color rose to her cheek ;and after the departure of Edward she counted her beads with more fervor than usual as she uttered an aspiration over every one, that God would preserve them from all evil and send her brother-in-law an affectionate wife. Whatever shade had come over her brow, it soon vanished, and she strove to banish unwelcome remembrances that crowded upon her. "Poor Edward!" thought she: "I see how it is; but I am sure, very sure, he will not think of les yeux noirs when he looks into les yeux bleus!-and more than ever she congratulated herself on the admirable epistle she had penned for Ma'mselle Renard.

At last the day arrived for Edward's return. Blaisée stood on the landing as soon as the first distant cloud of smoke arose. When the boat came nearer and nearer, its loud bellowing was music to her ear. When it reached the shore, Edward was the first that escaped from it, but he was alone!

"Here is your letter," said he to Blaisée. "I have not given it; I have not seen her."

From this time Edward said no more about matrimony, and his sister-in-law no longer rallied him on the subject; indeed, there was a shade of restraint in her manner which was involuntary. He still assisted as usual in cutting and preparing wood, and in the daily labor of their little homestead; but when his task was done, he would wander into the forest, and stay till the night was far advanced, or till John went after him and insisted on his returning then would Blaisée say-" My good broder, you not know the night-air make fever. You go away into de wood; you not see de long moss that hangs from de treesthat very bad-always sign of sickness; you get fever, and that make you dead."

:

Edward sometimes replied, in a low, indistinct voice, which even to Blaisée's untutored ear conveyed the idea that "death would be welcome."

Her predictions were too soon fulfilled.— The dismal swamps and unhealthy exhalations produced their usual effect, and the malaria of night was fast undermining the health of Edward. He was seized with a violent attack of fever and ague. Blaisée, too, was fast approaching her maternity, and the prosperity of the little family was sadly clouded. We cannot do without help," said John. "We must get somebody from Natchez to come and stay with us. Poor Edward must have a nurse; and you, my own Blaisée, will not be able to milk the cows and nurse him; and then too, when we have a little one, your hands will be full."

"And my heart too," said Blaisée. "But I have thought of all this." She then proceeded to inform him that she had written to her dear cousin Jeanette to know if she would come and stay a month or two with them. John waited as impatiently as she did for the answer, which they soon received, with a promise of her arriving in the next steamboat.

In the mean time poor Edward's disorder became more distressing-he was unable to leave his bed, from extreme weakness, or to bear the light of day. Both John and Blaisée were constantly by his bedside, and the prosperity of their little settlement was no longer their first object. These were trying moments to a casual observer, but they were full of instruction to our new settlers; it was a season of rest and of reflection, which their heavenly Father had assigned them. While they watched by the sufferer, the engrossment of daily labors ceased. John remembered the religious teachings of his youth, and joined with Blaisee in her devout aspirations. She was a Catholic, it is true, and counted her beads, and John did not, but they both worshipped the same God and believed in the same Saviour.

The arrival of Jeanette brightened their worldly prospects,-she took Blaisée's place as Edward's nurse, and by her gentle and judicious kindness mitigated the sufferings of the poor invalid, who was doomed to weeks of prostration. Two months from the time of Jeanette's appearance, things wore a new aspect. Blaisée held in her arms her firstborn, and Edward had slowly begun to recover. John, by a double portion of labor, had still contrived to supply wood for the steamboats who stopped by contract, and prosperity had once more returned to the little dwelling.

It is useful and wise to observe by what apparently inadequate means, the important events of life are brought about. All, to the reflecting mind, produce their results. It is a common observation, that nothing is made in vain-and how much more strikingly does it appear that there is no event without its consequence. So thought Edward as he met

the family once more, coming as he did from the borders of the grave.

It was a fine evening in October, and so warm in that mild climate, that the doors and windows were open. All was hushed except the rushing tide of the Mississippi. Blaisée sat with her babe cradled on her lap, John half asleep with his arm around her, and Edward and Jeanette whispering love to each other, her hand resting in his, under the veil of the deepening twilight.

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Sister," said Edward, after a long silence, "do you still recommend a wife to me?"

"No broder," she replied, "you not like my choice, you must choose for yourself."

"Will you recommend our dear Jeanette?" said he.

"She not do," answered Blaisée,"she has de eyes blue, and you must have de eyes black."

"I do not know," said Edward, "what colors her eyes are, I never thought of them."

“Oh, then you are in love with her! they say so with us, when they not know the color of de eyes."

"You are right, Blaisée; I love her dearly, and always shall."

"Then there is no hope for my friend, Ma'mselle Renard," said Blaisée, while a clear silvery laugh broke from both of the young women. Ah, my dear friend, you not know this is Jeanette Renard, to whom I wrote de letter."

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The laugh had aroused John from his sleepy state, and he acknowledged that he had been in his wife's confidence, who had determined, when Edward returned without delivering the letter, to make them both acquainted at some future time.

"But if it had not been for my long illness," said Edward, "which was brought

on through my own wayward folly, by wandering half the night in dismal swamps, I never should have known the gentleness and worth of Ma'mselle Renard."

"And I," said Jeanette, "could not have loved Edward so well if I had not watched him day and night, and seen that he was worthy of being loved."

"And I," said John, who was now wide awake, "could never have prized all my present blessings as I do now, if I had not seen them in jeopardy."

"My good friends," said Blaisée, "you say all I would like to, so I will say noting, but thank God for his goodness to us all, and for my dear baby."

Shock, who was always awake when his master was, now crept from his corner and seemed to partake of the general animation, but after a few gambols quietly laid himself down at the feet of his mistress, who certainly had one half of his heart.

But a short time passed before Edward and Jeanette were united by the venerable father, from whose conversation and notebook, I have extracted this little narrative. One or two more rooms were added to the cottage for further accommodation, and Edward, who had received better instruction than his brother, had suspended to the post a new advertisement, with no material fault in the orthography. "Wood for steamboats to be sold here for two dollars and a half per cord-also eggs and milk." At the time we landed, three or four little children were playing about the door, with Shock in the midst of them. It was difficult to say which preponderated, blue eyes or black, but there seemed to be sufficient evidence, that both brothers bid fair to have inheritors for the new settlement.