carried onwards. He became weary of beating the water with his feet and hands to no purpose, and his throat was dry with crying, and so he floated along, like a poor, uprooted weed. It was fearful to him to be hurried away so, with the waters roaring in his ears. He gave up all hope of seeing his dear home again, and dreaded the thought of being drowned, and devoured by monstrous fishes. How he wished that he had not disobeyed his good parents; and he earnestly prayed God to forgive him, and have mercy upon his soul.

At Charles Morton's home, his mother had prepared a bowl of bread and milk for him, because he usually was hungry when he came from school.

At length she began to look from the window, and to feel uneasy. Little Caroline crept to the door, and continually called "Tarle, Tarle!" But when the sun disappeared, and Mr. Morton returned, and nothing had been seen of the dear boy, they were greatly alarmed. They searched the places where he had been accustomed to play, and questioned his companions, but in vain. The neighbours collected, and attended the father in pursuit of his lost son. What was their distress, at finding his clothes in a remote recess, near the river's brink! They immediately gave him up as drowned, and commenced the search for his body. There was bitter mourning in his once happy home, that night. Many weeks elapsed, ere little Caroline ceased calling for her "dear Tarle," or the sad parents could be comforted. And it was remembered amid their affliction, that the beloved child whom they had endeavoured to teach the fear of God, had forgotten that All-seeing Eye, when he disobeyed his parents.

But while they were lamenting their lost son, he was not dead. While faintly struggling on the river, he had been discovered, and taken up by an Indian canoe. He had been borne by the swift current far from the place where he first went into the water. And it was very long after he was rescued, before he came to his senses, so as to give any connected account of himself. Then, he was greatly shocked at finding himself in a boat, with two huge Indians. He shrieked, and begged to be taken to his father's house; but they paid no attention to his cries, and silently proceeded on their voyage. They wrapped a blanket around him, because he had no clothes, and offered him some parched corn, but he had no heart to eat. By the rough tossing of the boat, he discovered that they were upon the deep sea, and the broad moon rose high, and shone long, ere they drew near to land. Stupefied with terror, one of the Indians carried him in his arms to a rude hut, and gave him to his wife.

"What have you brought?" said she, as she loosened the blanket, and discovered the dripping locks and shivering form of the affrighted child.

"A white pappoose," answered the hoarse voice of the husband. Poor Charles looked up with a cry of horror and despair. The woman regarded him earnestly for a moment.

"He is like my son that I buried," said she, and she folded her dark arms around him, and wept. She kindled a fire to warm him, and pressed food upon him, but he was sick at heart. She laid him in the rude bed of her dead child, and he sobbed himself into a deep, long sleep. It was late in the morning when he opened his eyes. Who can describe his distress! No kind parent to speak to him, no little sister to twine her arms around his neck. Nothing but a dark hovel, and strange Indian faces. The woman, with her husband and father, were the sole inhabitants of the hut, and of this lone, sea-girt island. A dreadful feeling of desolation came over him, and he laid down his head, and mourned bitterly. The red-browed woman pitied him, and adopted him into her heart, in place of the child she had lost. She brought him the coarse garments of her dead son, and he was obliged to put them on, for he had no other.

His heart sunk within him, when on going out of the door, he could see no roof save the one where he had lodged. Some little rocky islands were in sight, but none of them inhabited. He felt as if he was alone in the world, and said, "This is the punishment of my disobedience." Continually he was begging with tears, to be taken to his home, and the men promised "when we go so far again in the boat, we will carry you." But their manners were so stern, that he began to fear to urge them as much as he wished. So every night, when he had retired to sleep, the woman said to her husband, "We will keep him. He will be contented. His beautiful blue eye is not so wild and strained, as when you brought him. My heart yearns towards him, as it did over the one that shall wake no more."

She took him with her to gather the rushes, with which she platted mats and baskets, and showed him where the solitary bittern made her nest, and how to trace the swift steps of the heron, as with whirring wing half spread it hasted through the marshes to the sea. And she taught him to dig roots, which contain the spirit of health, and to know the herbs that bring sleep to the sick, and staunch the flowing blood: for she trusted that in industry, and the simple knowledge of nature, he would find content. At first, she brought him wild flowers, but she perceived that they always made him weep, for he had been accustomed to gather them for his little Caroline. So she passed them by, blooming in their wild recesses, and instructed him how to climb the trees where the grape-vine hung its airy clusters. And she gave him a choice bow and arrow, ornamented with brilliant feathers, and encouraged him to take aim at the birds that sang among the low branches. But he shrank back at the thought of hurting the warbler, and she said silently,

"Surely, the babe of the white woman is not in spirit like his red brother. He who sleeps in the grave was happy when he bent the bow and followed his father to the chase."

Little Charles spent a part of each day in watching the sails, as they glided along on the broad sea. For a long time, he would stand as near the shore as possible, and make signs, and shout, hoping they might be induced to come and take him to his home. But an object so diminutive, attracted no attention, and the small island, with its neighbouring group of rocks, looked so desolate, and the channel so obstructed and dangerous, that vessels had no motive to approach it.

When the chill of early autumn was in the air, the Indian woman invited him to assist her in gathering the golden ears of the maize, and in separating them from their investing sheath. But he worked sorrowfully, for he was ever thinking of his own dear home. Once the men permitted him to accompany them, when they went on a short fishing excursion; but he wept and implored so violently to be taken to his parents, that they frowned, and forbade him to go any more in the boat. They told him, that twice or thrice in the year they performed a long voyage, and went up the river, to dispose of the articles of their manufacture and purchase some necessary stores. They should go when spring returned, and would then carry him to his parents. So the poor little boy perceived that he must try to be patient and quiet, through the long, dreary winter, in an Indian hut. The red-browed woman ever looked smilingly upon him, and spoke to him with a sweet, fond tone. She wished him to call her mother, and was always trying to promote his comfort. After Charles had obtained the promise of her husband and father, to take him home in the spring, his mind was more at rest. He worked diligently as his strength and skill would permit, on the baskets, mats, and brooms, with which the boat was to be freighted. He took pleasure in painting with the bright colours which they obtained from plants, two baskets, which were intended as presents for his mother and Caroline.