[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

Tonnaleuka was surprised in the morning to
see Charles in such good spirits, although he at
once conjectured the cause, for he had himself
been the bearer of Maria's letter, and had deposited
it where it had been found.

“You have benefited much from your night's
repose, I perceive, my son,” said the prophet.

“Yes, father;” replied Charles, “I am much
better than I was last night. But, father, could
you oblige me with materials for writing?”

“I can, my son. It will be a pleasant amusement
for you. I am glad you desire it. By reading
and writing, I trust you will be able to spend
your time here without feeling it tedious and uncomfortable.”

“I shall try to do so, father,” replied Charles,
who having possessed himself with pen, ink, and
paper, retired with a light heart to his bed-chamber,
to write his epistle.

I will not insert this elaborate address of the
enamoured Charles to his beloved in these

[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

memoirs, because, although it did not contain a sentiment
which was not the sincere dictate of his
heart, and for the sincerity of which Maria did not
give him full credit, yet I am aware that there is
not one reader in twenty but would consider it
absolute bombast. It is, indeed, frequently impossible
for enthusiastic lovers, like Charles, when
communicating by letter to the mistress of their
hearts, the fervours of their passion, to write common
sense, at least what common readers can receive
as such: for, like all other classes and communities
of men, lovers have a technical language
of their own, to themselves the prettiest, and
sweetest, perhaps, of all languages; but certainly
the least rational, and intelligible, to the rest of
the world.

Charles having finished his letter, put it into the
hands of the prophet, who promised that it should
be conveyed to Maria that very day.

“With respect to your servant's safety, my
son,” said the prophet, “I have thought it necessary
that something should also be done; for if left
long to himself so near his enemies, his rashness
will inevitably expose him to the risk of being recaptured.”

“Father,” replied Charles, “the certainty of
his safety would indeed give me pleasure, and I
shall be thankful for whatever your wisdom may
think proper to do for him.”

“It may be,” said the prophet, “that he will
be unwilling to obey my directions. Your authority
may be necessary to induce him thereto.
Write to him that it is your will he should obey
me, and I will provide for his safety. I cannot
bring him here to conceal him, or to receive your
commands, because I wish not the secret of this
cavern to be known to one of his careless and unguarded
disposition.”

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

“You are prudent, father,” replied Charles,
“and you are right. I shall write to Peter, that
in obeying you be obeys me, and that on pain of
my displeasure he must attend to your directions.”

Charles wrote accordingly, and shortly afterwards
Tonnaleuka set out on a visit to Frazier's.
In order to prevent any of Charles's enemies from
suspecting, on account of the termination of the
tracks of footsteps in the snow at the pine tree,
that there was any lurking-place near it, he continued
to extend these tracks onwards quite over
the ridge, by now taking a circuitous route to Frazier's.

Having delivered Maria's letter, he took Paddy
Frazier aside and explained to him his views with
respect to Peter McFall.

“I have myself been a little alarmed on this
subject,” observed Paddy, “lest that fellow's long
tongue should some time or other betray to the
French the whole affair of Mr. Adderly's rescue.
His discovering on himself only would be of
little consequence, as the world could jog on
pretty well without him; and besides, you know
it would be altogether his own business—though I
don't wish the blockhead to get into a scrape
either. In short, father, I agree with you that,
for the general good, we must get him out of the
way as soon as possible.”

“Have you not certain trading concerns at
Gist's plantation, on pretence of managing which
we could send him there?” asked Tonnaleuka.

“It is a good thought, father;” replied Paddy,
“I have a package of otter and minx skins, that
I wish immediately conveyed to Gist's. Father,
I think we can despatch him with them; nay, I
shall go with him every yard myself, and fix matters
so with Gist as to have our loose-tongued
Irishman detained there for a few months at any

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

rate, by which time it may please fortune to turn
up something for our benefit.”

This scheme was agreed upon, and Peter was
summoned before Tonnaleuka.

“My son,” said the prophet, “here is a letter
requiring you to perform some services I have in
view for you. Will you have any objection?”

“Now, by the powers! prophet,” replied Peter,
“isn't that a strange question? don't you see
my master bids me—och! may the blessing of
“Bonna-Margery” be on him! But, prophet,
may I make free to ask you just where you have
stuffed my poor master out of the way? for sure
wouldn't Peter attend to him and all his errands,
if it should be running in and out of the devil's
dungeon, or even a catamount's den in this Wilderness.”

“I know your regard for your master,” observed
the prophet, and hence it is that I am persuaded
you will cheerfully undertake the performance
of an errand on which he wishes you immediately
to proceed. As to your master's present residence,
my son, I am not at liberty to reveal it. But I
may assure you that he is quite comfortable and
safe.”

“Arrah, now, dear prophet! but you know
every thing. You know where my master is.
Now, if you would only tell me, so that I might
set my eye again on him; who knows—botheration
to it! if we couldn't dash our brains together, and
find out some method—never fear us for that, dear
prophet!—of making our way to swate Philadelphy
again, God bless her! but I wish my master
and myself were once more snug under the wooden
roof of her long beef market, my jewel!”

“But, my son,” observed Tonnaleuka, “on
your present errand Paddy here will accompany
you, and you will assist him as your master

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

desires, in his trading designs. Will you start tomorrow,
and Paddy will have matters prepared
for your journey?”

“This moment, your honour—if I may call a
prophet, your honour—Och! now, any moment,
I'll obey my master's orders—but where must I
go?”

“Paddy will give you every information,” said
Tonnaleuka. “Follow his directions, and expect
my blessing and your master's approbation.”

“By the jingo!” cried Peter, “two excellent
things these, for a poor fellow like me. Arrah,
now, master, be asy—and just tip a little bit of a
prayer, and a blessing with it, for me every night.
Priest Balgruddery,—oh, the Virgin bless him!—
used to do so. It saved poor Peter a deal of trouble
when he was in Ireland, your reverence; and
if you'll just do the same for me in this wild country,
Och! how I'll skip over it any where your
worship and my master please to send me.”

“I'll remember you in my orisons,” replied the
prophet. “But you must now for some time follow
Paddy's directions.” So saying, Tonnaleuka
departed.

“Horses horns!” exclaimed Peter, when the
prophet was gone; “horses horns!—he'll remember
me in his horses horns! What the devil
is that, Paddy? If horses have horns in this country,
by the great Columb! but it's more than they
have in Ireland, my boy.”

“He said his orisons, which is Indian for saying
mass,” returned Paddy. “It is only asses
and stags that have horns in this country. But,
Peter, we must be off by sunrise to-morrow.
I have a parcel of peltry and furs you must asassist
me to take to Gist's plantation. It is only
about a hundred miles up the river. Your master
wishes you to remain there, where he

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

intends you shall see him, probably in a couple of
months.”

“See him in a couple of months!” exclaimed
Peter. “Why, sure now, he may be in heaven
before that time, and Peter in purgatory, and I
may never see him at all—”

“Very likely,” replied his consoling companion;
“or might it not just as readily happen that
you should both go to purgatory together?”

“By my faith,” said Peter, “and sure that's
just what I would like. But my master has never
a purgatory to go to. Why, didn't you know he's
a Protestant, my jewel?”

“And that will save him from the devil's flail,
you think?” said Paddy. “Don't they say they
thrash poor sinners in that purging hole of yours,
till their sins are beat out of them?”

“Och, Paddy!” cried Peter, “none of your
jeers now—for it's only when we don't pay the
priest well enough to say mass for our souls, heaven
bless them! that the devil thrashes them: but
it's for their good after all, as my mother used to
say.”

“Well, Peter, it may be so; we'll not dispute
about this matter, just because we know nothing
about it. Only you need not expect to meet your
master at either Gist's or purgatory, for two
months at least. So you must be content to wait
for him at whichever of the two places you first
find yourself. But take care, that in neither place
you mention any thing about our rescuing him
from the French. It will do Gist no good to hear
it, and as to the devil you may meet with in purgatory,
he must know already all about it, from the
clattering of the half dozen Frenchmen we sent
there.”

Peter promised to attend to this salutary caution;
and every thing being that evening

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

prepared for their journey, they set forward with the
dawn the next morning for Gist's habitation, where
Paddy left his companion to fall in love with one
of Gist's daughters, which he swore by St. Patrick
he would, if he were obliged to remain there
only the half of the time prescribed to him.—
I have been actually informed that Peter did, in
this instance, literally keep his oath, and permitted
the charms of the fair Esther Gist entirely to
obliterate from his recollection those of Molly
M`Nickle. So much, dear reader, for the constancy
of man!

Paddy returned to his father's, after little more
than a week's absence, with his mind entirely at
ease, as to the present security of both Charles
Adderly and his man Peter from the power of the
French. He had, indeed, in a short time afterwards,
reason to congratulate himself on Peter's
removal; for the French had begun to entertain
some suspicion as to the fate of Charles's escort,
and had employed a number of Indians to range
the whole country in search of information concerning
them. Some of the remains of the French
soldiers were at length found, very much mangled
and torn by wild beasts, but still in a condition to
admit of their being identified. Suspicion was, by
Paddy's sly management, fixed upon some of the
Delaware Indians, who were supposed still to harbour
a secret partiality for Charles Adderly and
the English interest. It was even believed, that
Charles was yet secreted among them. Their
chiefs were in consequence summoned to Fort Du
Quesne, in order to undergo an investigation, and
answer to charges founded on these surmises before
the French commandant.

They attended cheerfully, and replied to all
questions with such promptitude, and freedom
from embarrassment, that St. Pierre, persuaded of

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

their innocence, was about to dismiss them, when
Swanlamis, their king, addressed him:

“Father! you called us here to answer an accusation
of treachery and murder. Father! we
abhor treachery, and we never slay those with
whom we are at amity. We first return the wampum
of peace, we break the calumet, and we sing
the war-song in public, ere we abrogate treaties.
Have we done these things towards you? It is injurious,
therefore, to say that we killed your people
at the time you were our brothers, and when
we professed friendship for you. Father! it was
wicked in you to suspect us. It shows you could
do such things yourselves, if your occasions required
them.

“Father! you must think better of us, and not
judge of our integrity by your own, if you wish to
preserve our friendship. The English were more
manly than you. They once charged us with
coolness, but never with treachery; for they knew
that before we should injure them we would warn
them, and return their wampum. Shingiss thought
himself bound to them, and he died fighting for
them.

“Father! we will do so for you, if you act generously.
If not, we will remove afar off to the
English lands southward, and lift the hatchet
against you.

“What we want you now to do, father, is, to
tell all the tribes that we are innocent—that we
scorn treachery, and that you are sorry for having
suspected us. We will then forgive your rashness,
and smoke with you as if this matter had not
happened. We can resent vengefully, but we can
also forgive readily. Father, choose ye!”

St. Pierre, partly from motives of policy, and
partly from a sentiment of generosity towards men

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

whose feelings he thought it was but just to soothe
by some concession, replied—

“My brother—that your people have been
wrongfully accused of this deed, I believe. But
the accusation did not originate with me. It has
been circulated by many mouths; and I thought
it was your due to afford you this opportunity, if
you were innocent, to justify yourselves to all
men. I am glad you have been able to do so, and
I hope that every one will be as satisfied as I am.

“Brother—I will inform all our allies that you
are innocent; and, for the trouble I have given
you, I shall order you a present of rum and some
blankets.”

The Indians, perfectly satisfied with this result,
left the garrison in great good humour with their
allies.

The search after Charles and Peter M`Fall,
whose escape from Le Bœuf was, soon after it
took place, known at Du Quesne, was carried on
for some time, in the neighbourhood of both forts,
to no purpose. It then slackened, and at length
was altogether abandoned as fruitless; and Maria
began to feel quite at ease in respect to her lover's
security.

He had written to her often, and in every letter
pressingly solicited a visit from her. “O my love!”
he would say, “let your presence but for once
bless the cell to which you have condemned me—
it will then be endeared to me, and I shall feel
happy!”

At length, as soon as she was assured that all
inquiry after him was relinquished by his enemies,
she yielded to his request, and accompanied the
prophet to his cavern. Charles was sitting beside
a tolerably comfortable fire, with his head reclined
upon the table, meditating upon her when she
entered. The prophet had gone on, as was his

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

usual custom during a time of snow, to continue
the tracks to the other side of the ridge, until they
joined a frequented Indian path about half a mile
distant. She, therefore, entered her lover's apartment
alone, and her light footsteps along the passage
had not aroused him from his meditations.

“Mr. Adderly!” said she. He looked up, and
scarcely believing his senses, started to his feet,
and approached her.

“Ah, Maria!” he exclaimed; “blessed girl!
and I indeed so happy! Have you come at last, to
cheer your Charles amidst the solitude of his dungeon?”

“I have ventured” said she, “with the permission
of Tonnaleuka, to indulge you at this
time, because I believe that the danger of my visit
leading to your discovery, is now much diminished.
I thank God that you have so long escaped;
for your enemies were much inflamed at the
slaughter of their companions, and, for some time,
very ardent in their search after you. Oh, Charles!
it was well that you had such a place of refuge.
Were you now to fall into their hands, I fear that
in their rage, they would at once consign you to
destruction!”

“Be not alarmed for that, my love!” said he.
“I might, indeed, if now in their power, be more
strictly confined, and perhaps more harshly treated
than before my escape; but they would have
no plea for endangering my life. European usages,
you are aware, my too timid girl, acknowledge
the right of every prisoner of war, except he be
on parole, to regain his liberty by any means he
can.”

“It may be so,” she replied; “but what power
is there here, in this Wilderness, to constrain their
compliance with these usages? Alas! may we not
fear that the example of the Indians would

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

reconcile them to the destruction of an obnoxious prisoner;
and it is reported that they have lately
used horrible threats against you, on account of
the loss of their men.”

“They may have done so,” said he; “but,
Maria, here you know there is no danger, and if
you would only sometimes bless me, as you do
now, with your presence, I think I could become
content to pass my days even in this dungeon.
Oh! if we had but had the good fortune to have
united our fates—but I will not now annoy you
with this subject. Only—only promise to visit
me often, and I shall here be happy!”

“Alas, Charles!” she replied, “if it were not
imprudent, I would feel but too much inclined to
visit you. But I must be cautious, and indulge
neither my wishes nor your own to the endangering
of your safety.”

“And will you deny me?” he cried; “Oh, surely
you cannot, merely on the cold calculation of
some trifling, some scarcely-to-be-imagined danger,
deny me the only enjoyment that can make
my abode here—that could make my existence
any where, tolerable. Oh Maria, deprive me of
your society, and you will bid me at once despair!”

“Be calm, Charles!” said she, “I have no intention
to exclude myself entirely from you; but
my visits must not be frequent, and they must only
be when Tonnaleuka permits—for it is he whose
wisdom has hitherto regulated all my conduct,
better than I myself could have done.”

“I will then weary the prophet with prayers,”
said he, “and he will not refuse to indulge me in
the only happiness my soul is now capable of
knowing.”

“Tonnaleuka,” she observed, “will only do in
this matter what your safety and my case of mind

[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

will thoroughly warrant. I wish you to expect no
more from him, my Charles. Oh! would to heaven,
that you were safe again with your friends in
Philadelphia!”

“And banished from thee, my Maria! Ah, how
can you wish to drive me so far from you! Here,
even here, in this dungeon, enclosed in the bowels
of the earth, I feel happier, because I am near
thee, because I can often hear of thee, and perhaps
sometimes see thee, than if I were in the
midst of my friends, surrounded with all the smiles
and the pleasures of social enjoyment, without thee.
Alas, Maria! will the day never come when I shall
introduce thee to those friends, to that social life,
which thou art so eminently formed to ornament
and enjoy? How would my friends rejoice in
thee! how would society admire thee, and how
would I exult, and adore thee! Oh Maria, if
thou wert once mine, all this beatitude would
soon be our lot!”

“Charles,” said she, “you are too visionary,
you are too sanguine of what the world might think
of me. You have been pleased to think well of
me yourself, and hence you think every person
else must do so. Restrain these flights of fancy,
these poetical dreams of yours, and look at what
is more likely to be the world's estimate. It may
gaze at me, but so would it gaze at any savage
from the wilderness, for strange sights I am told
will always draw its attention; and as to your
friends, they would be likely to say, `It was indeed
an unlucky day for poor Charles, when he
first went among the savages, to get himself and us
entangled and burthened with this woman, who is
come amongst us without a penny—a rude, uncultivated
daughter of the desert. The loss of the
expedition he conducted, was not to him, and to
us, such a provoking misfortune as this!”

[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]

“Maria, Maria!” said Charles, pressing her
fingers to his lips, “Oh, have done with such a
picture! it will not be—it cannot be so! oh, I
swear to you it will not! So beautiful, so intelligent,
so gentle, so sweet-tempered, so goodhearted,
so—”

“Stop, sir!” said she, with a smile, “I will
help you out with it; you were going to say—so
angelical! so celestial! so immaculate!—I declare,
Charles, I already know the whole cant,
and you may save yourself the trouble of repeating
these elegant phrases. If you wish me often
to visit you, I desire you will speak common sense
to me; for I assure you that, although I have been
brought up in a country of savages, I am not absolutely
a fool.”

“Alas, Maria! you are too severe with me.
Oh! believe me, I speak truth when I say, that my
words have never expressed to you half the admiration
of my heart for your beauties and your virtues.
But, forgive me if I be too warm. My
heart is now open to you, and, by heavens! I cannot
help it. My love!” here he again pressed
her hand to his glowing lips, while, with a sigh,
he continued—“Oh! my love, little do you indeed
know what this heart feels for you!”

“I am aware,” said she, unconsciously returning
his sigh, “that you love me, Charles; and
hence I can well know what you feel, for, alas!
my own heart feels too fondly—too strongly—the
softness, the tenderness, the fervency of true love.
But we must change the subject. I came here to
soothe your feelings, to allay your impatience under
confinement, and to encourage you, all in my
power, to support it; and not to dissolve you into
weakness, or reduce you to foolishness. I would
have you to be resolute, to be manly, and rational;
and restrain these inordinate emotions, which only

[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]

the feeble-minded and the effeminate will permit
to overcome them.”

“My monitress! lovely inspirer of all my generous
sentiments, I will be swayed by thee. Thy
rules of conduct shall direct me, and thy suggestions
of propriety shall give me law. I will arouse
myself to fortitude, since thou bidst me. I will
bear, and I will try to bear without repining, the
delay of calling thee mine, which fate has prescribed,
perhaps, as a punishment for my excessive
love. When thou seest me getting weak, Oh Maria!
only tell me, and I will be strong if I should
die under the effort.”

Here the approach of Tonnaleuka was heard,
and Charles had just let go her hand, which ever
since her entrance he had held in his, when the
prophet appeared.

“Hail to you, my children!” said he, “I am
glad that you can yet meet in safety. But, alas!
dangerous times are coming upon the Wilderness,
when the two most powerful nations on earth will
combat here, and make the most secret depths of
the desert ring to their very entrails with the fury of
their combats. But, my children, I will not shock
you, now when you are happy, with a description
of the evils that are approaching, for I trust that
you will both escape the desolation they will entail
upon multitudes. Here, at least, in the worst
of times, I expect there will be found by the meek
and the humble, safe shelter from storms that will
level to the dust the mighty and the renowned!
My children, be of good cheer, for after the fury
of this storm is expended, one of the powerful
nations will yield, and to those who survive here,
an age of peace and happiness shall arrive, bringing
days more prosperous and bright than ever
before shone upon the desert. Then shall come
to pass the saying of the Hebrew oracle, `The

[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]

Wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad
for them; and the desert shall rejoice and blossom
as the rose.”

“Father,” said Charles; “that the recent transactions
in this country will occasion a war to break
out between Great Britain and France, I doubt not.
Great troubles will consequently be here, for this
neighbourhood will naturally be one of the first
scenes of the fierce contention—and oh! that this
fair, but tender flower of the forest could be removed
to a more secure soil before that stormy
period commences! Father, do you not think
that this could be accomplished? Could she not
accompany me?”—

“My son,” said the prophet, interrupting him—
“there are many obstacles in the way. If ever
it be accomplished, it must be done with a strict
regard to all the rules of propriety. At least, my
son, if I can influence the actions of this child of
my instruction, she never will yield for one moment
to consult inclination or even to yield to terror
in the commission of any act that may exhibit
the faintest shade of offence against feminine propriety;
and let me add, that I believe her determination
to act properly and becomingly in all
cases, and in defiance of all inducements to the
contrary, is as firm and unalterable as I could
wish it.

“Therefore, my son, although she loves you,
and although the horrors of war may here assail
her even to destruction, yet, except under circumstances
wherein no duty can be broken, no principle
either of religion, honour, or decorum infringed,
you may solicit her to fly with you from
the scene of evils, but I am persuaded you will
solicit in vain.

“My son, until the Great Father shall entitle
you in the opinions of men to be her protector,

[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]

which you are aware, under present circumstances,
cannot take place, it will be well if you refrain
from disturbing her with solicitations to
which she cannot yield, since there would be impropriety
in her doing so.

“Now, my children, it is time for you to separate.
Daughter, attend me: I wish to conduct
you home while it is yet day.”

Maria arose, when her lover catching her by
the hand, exclaimed, “Ah! are you going to leave
me? But it must be. O! let me beg, in the
presence of this our good father, that you will
soon indulge me with another precious visit!”

“It will be whenever our father pleases,” returned
Maria, looking at the prophet with an expression
of countenance which very much favoured
Charles's request.

“It will then be, when both safety and propriety
combine to permit,” said Tonnaleuka. “But,
my son,” continued he, addressing Charles, “be
comforted: her absence will not be unnecessarily
protracted.”

“Then, farewell, my beloved!” cried Charles;
“and may the Great Guardian of all purity protect
you in every peril, and assist you through
every difficulty!”

“Farewell, Charles!” said she; “may he likewise
be your protector!”—and they separated.

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