vately at Mrs. Clement's during the months he had to stay in the city; and accordingly he became an inmate of her house.

Lieutenant Bucke was rather rough in his personal appearance, besides being well advanced in years. His head was excessively long; he was strictly national in his high cheek bones; his nose was large and red; his whiskers, which were of a decidedly redder sample than his locks, sent along the edge of his cheek, forward to the very top of his chin, a muster of fierce prickly distinct hairs, not unlike the bones of a red herring; those higher locks themselves were of the colour of the sand; and from having been forced backwards in his earlier life to supply the queue, according to the fashion of forty or fifty years ago, they still retained their old bent,-the French Revolution, to which every great change in modern days is ascribed, having not yet made them grow downwards over his brow. His eyes were of a peculiarly light grey, and in cold weather winked out a bitter mist; whilst his cheeks, under the same degree of temperature, showed off a neagre steely blue, with here and there a light red spot. In addition to all this he was old-fashioned and awkward in his manners. The manly frankness of Bucke's nature, indeed, seemed rather to borrow than to lose effect from those outward accompaniments; but it is difficult for such persons as our lieutenant to be dignified in matters of love; and the many ungainly attentions which ere long he was obliged to shew to Miss Diana Clement, began to mock his nobler qualities in the eyes of Douglas, who, notwithstanding his sincere admiration of Bucke's generous heart, could not help being both amused and disgusted by his ridiculous affectations. Meanwhile, Miss Clement paid all her attentions with a quizzical return. This at first Douglas was inclined to set down to a want of deep feeling on her part, and girlish thoughtlessness, which seemed to correspond necessarily with her very youthful look. She was tall and slender, and appeared like one who had grown up to womanhood before her proper years. A cloud of sunny ringlets broke upon a brow of most transparent beauty. Her cheek was embalmed with the finest hues of life, which shone through like bright tinctured spirits, and seemed at all times scarce repressed from flaming and coursing over all her face. Dou

But

glas soon saw, however, that she was girlish only in appearance; and for many reasons he began to be very much struck with this beautiful young woman. Judging from the nature of the speculations upon which she sometimes entered, such appeared to him the force and daring of her character, that her present life to his instinctive feeling seemed like a mere retirement from bold and apprehensive deeds; and, in connexion with this, her abstruse studies, uncommon to females, appeared a farther preparation for something great, beyond her present mode of life, which did not at all seem suited to her. Her mother, as if she had been a servant in her own house, paid to her entire deference and submission. the most striking thing of all was, that Miss Clement never tried to hide her emotions of anger, which were frequent and violent. Then the brightest scarlet suffusion was over her face in a moment. There were no vehement gesticulations; the fiery violence of her nature shewed itself in a rigid compression of frame, often followed by a subtle and intense shivering, and not unfrequently ending in a paroxysm of sobbing and tears. Another remarkable demonstration, however, was her love of judicial astrology, in which she professed herself not only a believer, but a practised calculator; and the intimations from which to man's spirit she spoke of with a singularly wild eloquence, which seemed melancholy and altogether sincere. This characteristic, together with that vivid glow with which almost every emotion lighted her countenance, made her be playfully styled the Scarlet Witch. She lived in the most retired manner; and besides the lieutenant, admirers seemed to have none, except a young gentle man of the name of Jenkins, the son of a great merchant in the city, who, apparently of the same ardent temperament with the lady herself, could not hide his violent attachment to her.

Diana Clement, whose whole soul was one imperious decree of homage, was piqued at the indifference of Hinton Douglas, and set herself for this very reason to make him her lover. She soon felt that he was worthy of her conquest; and her first seductive arts against him, which were the more plied the more they seemed inefficient, were turned ere long into strong love for the youth. Her studied allurements were not, however, at an end. In another character, the simplicity of pure

passion would have prevented or neutralised such arts; but in this strange woman they seemed only to minister to each other. She opened upon her quarry with quizzical and tormenting wit; then flattered him, by drawing forth his. She gave her whole heart to a moving story: anon she was all for mirth, then for a witching song; then for the renewed encounters of Beatrice and Benedict. She broke off at a point at which she knew he would be impatient to renew teasing explanations; and judging that herein she had found out her power over him, she strove to keep up a continuance of interest from day to day, that he might be taken captive along an irresistible chain.

Secure in his honourable faith, Douglas was merely amused with all this, which he allowed to go on for some time, that he might fully see the character of this singular young woman; but, ere long, he deemed it necessary to be dignified, and Miss Clement found her hopes at an end. Her thwarted love was now the hunger and thirst of revenge.

One evening, whilst Douglas was at supper alone, he heard a loud cry of "Mercy on us!" from the sleeping apartment of the lieutenant, who generally retired at a very early hour; and in another moment the door was burst open, and in rushed Bucke in his breeches and nightcap, with a candle in his hand, snorting like a horse fastened on by a lion, and looking amazed round over his shoulder at- But nothing followed him.

"In the name of all the saints, Douglas, what is the meaning of all this?" cried the terrified soldier, who was indeed a victim to all superstitious fears.

"Of what?" demanded Douglas, starting up.

"Every noise of every devil in darkness," said Bucke, "these three or four nights,-every midnight-round about my bed-here and there, and He stopped short, as Miss Clement and her mother entered, alarmed at his first loud exclamation. The young lady had heard his complaint; she rung a bell, and her little old yellow French serving-man made his appearance.

66

Vaulpas," said Diana, with intense calmness, you are a ventriloquist. Give us all the noises with which you have plagued Lieutenant Bucke for some nights past."

With singular alacrity, as if he had not been at all in fault, the old fellow filled the room with a thousand shifting, low, hellish whisperings.

"Your reason, sir, for all this?" demanded Diana.

"Madam," said Vaulpas, with lisping meekness, "I saw this noble soldier afflicted with that tendency to hypochondriasis which is often the bane of lofty hearts; and remembering the doctrine of my former master, the great Dr. Vaudeville (here Diana started as if shocked with electricity) that a real alarm is often the best cure of melancholia, I have dared to practice on this brave gentleman, who, I doubt not, will from this hour recover the vigour of his spirit."

The thing was thus explained in a minute; in that provoking way, too, which left no room for offence and rebuke; and the poor lieutenant stood convicted of cowardice, and the dread of the devil, before the very woman for whose good opinion of his valour he would have taken a lion by the beard. He was so confounded, that he stood still for a space, altogether forgetful of his outward man; then, remembering his midnight appearance, he tore the nightcap from his head in an agony of vexation, made a rush towards the door, but fell down in a fit of apoplexy. The shock fortunately proved not fatal, but it was followed by a paralysis, which kept the poor lieutenant for months to his bed, during which time, it is almost needless to say, that Douglas watched him like a brother. Early in the spring he was nearly well; and Douglas, leaving him, proceeded to Scotland, to prepare for his approaching marriage.

One day, about a week before his intended nuptials, Douglas received a letter from Bucke, stating that he was now completely well; that he had been made happy in the heart and hand of Miss Clement, who was now his wife; that he had taken a cottage, about five miles off, where he was now fairly settled; and, in conclusion, eagerly requesting Douglas to dine with them there next day, when he wished to have his advice in a most urgent matter.Douglas accordingly went, and was received by Mrs. Bucke (Diana herself), somewhat eager at first in her manner, and pale in her singular beauty, but withal very modest; and in a few minutes, at her ease, and brilliant as usual, she apologised for the absence of the lieutenant, by stating that he had

D

been unexpectedly summoned that forenoon to attend the last moments of his uncle, whom he had at length succeeded in finding; but, in all likelihood, he would be at home that night; if not, a card would come from him to Mr. Douglas at an early hour in the evening, stating the business for which he had been invited, and distinctly explaining where his instant services were needed. Douglas accordingly dined with Mrs. Bucke, who, immediately after dinner, craved his opinion as to the respective qualities of two sorts of home-made wine, about which a bet, she said, was pending betwixt the lieutenant and herself. Douglas's decision was knowingly given. She was sorry to say it was in the lieutenant's favour; then, retiring to prepare him tea, she left him alone to his wine and the newspapers of the day, which were brought in, addressed to "Thomas Bucke, Esq. Solway Cottage, by N. B.;” and, thus provided for, Douglas sat down before the sleepy fire. Ere long he was overcome by a pleasant drowsiness. His head nod ded, and gradually rose more slowly from his breast, over which his arms were folded. The sparry embers of the fire appeared to him gradually lengthened to misty bars, and reeled and rose to the place of the wall, while the wall took the place of the roof. In another minute, he was in a dead sleep. The door was slowly opened: in looked Diana Clement herself. At sight of the slumbering youth, forward to him she shot in her swift and perilous beauty, "So ho! Hinton Douglas," exclaimed she, "what hast thou to say for thyself, that thou so mockest the awful stillness of the dead? Ha! Hinton Douglas, when shalt thou marry the beautiful Miss Marjory Maxwell? We must leave our country, it seems; and is it not ordained that thou shalt go with us? Thou hast drunk of our drowsy winecup, and must sleep a sleep!" She summoned Vaulpas, who came instantly. "Vaulpas, are you ready? he is secured?"

"It shall be done,” said her servant; 66 yet, madam, allow me".

"Go, sir," cried the beautiful scarlet creature, flaming up and shuddering; "yet hold,-a word: you wish me to go to France? You were afraid that this sleeper Douglas would for ever detain me in this country? You did your utmost to drive Bucke from our house by fear and shame, that his friend Douglas might follow."

"Pardon me, my dear young madam; I did it not less because it became not the mother of such a lady to live by such means: I wished them all gone, indeed."

"Yet you could not guess," said Diana, "that I wished such an ostensible mode of life, merely to avoid suspicion. Well, then, you wish me to go to Paris, and all the cities of the world, to win more jewels; for your desire of gold is hungry as the grave. And now that you feel I know you thoroughly, have you confidence in my discernment in other matters ?"

"Wonderful lady !" cried Vaulpas ; "had my great master, Vaudeville, followed your wisdom, from the first_monent that he won your heart, in London, as implicitly as his love of wealth

the means of acquiring all strange knowledge-was great, instead of coming to the block as a felon, he might have roamed with you through the world, till every costly stone had been your own. I obey, lady-I rejoice that you escaped-I glory to have become your servant. Let me follow you to death! But now, in all humility permit me to ask, why will you encumber yourself with two such fantastic chil, dren as Jenkins and this drowsy Douglas ?"

"Vaulpas!" answered the lady, "I know you wholly faithful; and in this matter you shall be satisfied_wholly. Well, then, why have I left London, and come to this western coast of Scotland? First, because I found out that those Dutch hounds of justice were in quest of us in the metropolis; and, secondly, because I would give any thing less than immortal life to thwart the marriage of this Douglas; I came to thwart it, and it shall be thwarted. These are my reasons. Now, my means and instruments. Jenkins somehow learned that I had taken this cottage; he followed me with his eternal addresses, came near the coast with some ship of his father's, proffered me much money, and said he would take me to any part of the world I liked, provided there I would become his wife. I have weighed his proposals; I find it will be necessary for our safety to leave this country for a while. I have imitated admirably the hand-writing of Bucke, our pretended lord and master, and got this boy Douglas in my power. We will go to Jenkins. He will do to Douglas what I wish-he will go whithersoever I wish - he will return whensoever I wish; what would you

more? You shall go with me, Vaulpas. Mark, now, your duty. This morning I saw Jenkin's ship stand into our frith with the full tide, but now he must be far out again with the ebb; for he durst not, even for me, anchor on the bare sands till another flow. At the small inn down by the sea-shore he said he would wait for me all day, lest I should wish to see him preparatory to my going with him, to which I have already agreed. So, then, I do wish to see him, that we may get Douglas instantly conveyed on board his ship. Vaulpas, go immediately to the next inn, and order a post-chaise to be ready at our gate in less than an hour."Vaulpas retired; and Miss Clement continued to walk up and down the apartment.

In a short time, Vaulpas returned, and said that the chaise was ready; and Miss Clement, after giving him strict injunctions to keep the doors securely locked till her return. glanced quickly down an avenue, and, getting into the carriage, which was waiting at the bottom of it, ordered the coachman to drive at full speed to the little inn down the shore, which, with a signifi cant nod he professed to know very well. After following the main road for two or three miles, he turned into a soft hollow by-path leading down to the sea-sands, which now lay broad and white bebind the far-retreating tide, with here and there a stranded punt or brig, on the edge of the mazy river, which had entirely lost the appearance of a fresh water stream, and crept diffusely down the oozy flat. To avoid the double rows of broken stakes, which ran from the highest water-mark a hundred yards or so across the sands, the chaise was kept upon the shingly border, between the softer shore and the sea-pink sward, and went forward at a moderate pace, till it was drawn up before a low house snugly set beneath the shelter of a pard of old trees, that grew forward almost to the very beach; and the driver, alighting, told the lady this was Joe Martin's Anchor. After ordering him to wait for her, Miss Clement advanced to the door of the house, and, meeting the landlord, demanded if Captain Jenkins was there. He answered in the affirmative, and opened the door of an apartment whence came a strong gust of tobacco and spirituous fumes; and Miss Clement, following close behind, without ceremony, was at once in the presence of Jenkins, who was leaning moodily

on a bacchanalian table. Opposite to him sat two men, who seemed bold and rough seamen, in the tarnished dress of officers, and whose brown faces, evidently inflamed by the libations which they had been making, wore also a sulky and menacing expression. "A damsel in the wind!" cries one of these men, as he was the first to observe the lady enter; and, relaxing his features a little, he stared upon her with insolent eyes. Meanwhile, Jenkins had observed Miss Clement, and had started up; reeling a little, he turned to his companions, "My brave lieutenants," said he, "will you give us sea-room for a few minutes' space? This lady comes to settle the argument in your favour; and to-morrow we stand out whithersoever the hearts of my gallant fellows shall bear away."

"Jenkins," said the lady, "I like not this scented cabin of yours; I would walk half an hour with you away on the free sands; follow me when you have cooled your head with water."

the

With nothing of beard save down of boyhood on his cheek, though he might be nearly thirty years of age, Jenkins' face was in other respects also of a delicate style of manly beauty. But now its smoothness was broken up with streaks like the channels of scalding tears; there were blue rings below his eyes, whilst these were muddy and red,-all betokening evil passions and low indulgence. Pathetically, as if under a sense of his debasement, he looked on the face of Miss Clement, after her implied rebuke, and left the room apparently in haste to obey her. She then walked out upon the hard white sands, and up by the side of the river, where in a few minutes she was joined by Jenkins.

To be continued in our next.

WACOUSTA.*

Gaz. will shew the hero of our tale.THE following extract from the Lit. Clara's brother has perished by his hand previous to the skirmish in which he was made prisoner. Wacousta is proposing the life of the colonel's other son, a captive with the Indians, in

ransom for his own.

that a request from yourself to the 'Do you mean,' resumed the colonel, Ottawa chief will obtain the liberation of my son? Unless the Indian be

By the author of "Ecarte." Baldwin & Co.

false as yourself, I do.' 'And of the lady who is with him?' continued the colonel, colouring with anger. 'Of both. How is the message to be conveyed?' Ha! sir!' returned the prisoner, drawing himself up to his full height, 'now are you arrived at a point that is pertinent. My wampum belt will be the passport and the safe guard of him you send; then for the communication. There are certain figures, as you are aware, that, traced on bark, answer the same purpose among the Indians with the European language of letters. Let my hands be cast loose,' he pursued, but in a tone in which agitation and excitement might be detected, and if bark be brought me, and a burnt stick, or coal, I will give you not only a sample of Indian ingenuity, but a specimen of my own progress in Indian acquirements.' What, free your hands, and thus afford you a chance of escape?' observed the governor, doubtingly. Wacousta bent his steadfast gaze on him for a few moments, as if he questioned he had heard aright. Then bursting into a wild and scornful laugh-'By Heaven!' he exclaimed, this is, indeed, a high compliment you pay me at the expence of these fine fellows. What! Colonel de Haldimar afraid to liberate an unarined prisoner, hemmed in by a forest of bayonets? This is good, gentlemen,' and he bent himself in sarcastic reverence to the astonished troops; 'I beg to offer you my very best congratulations on the high estimation in which you are held by your colonel.' 'Peace, sirrah!' exclaimed the governor, enraged beyond measure at the insolence of him who thus held him up to contempt before his men, 'or, by Heaven, I will have your tongue cut out !-Mr. Lawson, let what this fellow requires be procured immediately.' Then addressing Lieut. Boyce, who commanded the immediate guard over the prisoner 'Let his hands be liberated, sir, and enjoin your men to be watchful of the movements of this supple traitor. His activity I know of old to be great, and he seems to have doubled it since he assumed that garb.' The command was executed, and the prisoner stood, once more free and unfettered in every muscular limb. A deep and unbroken silence ensued; and the return of the adjutant was momentarily expected. Suddenly a loud scream was heard, and the slight figure of a female, clad in white, came rushing from the piazza in which the apartment of the deceased De

Haldimar was situated. It was Clara. The guard of Wacousta formed the fourth front of the square; but they were drawn up somewhat in the distance, so as to leave an open space of several feet at the angles. Through one of these the excited girl now passed into the area, with a wildness in her air and appearance that rivetted every eye in painful interest upon her. She paused not until she had gained the side of the captive, at whose feet she now sank in an attitude expressive of the most profound despair.

A loud and well-remembered yell burst on the colonel's ear. The next moment, to his infinite surprise and horror, he beheld the bold warrior rapidly ascending the very staff that had been destined for his scaffold, and with Clara in his arms. Great was the confusion that ensued. To rush forward and surround the flag-staff, was the immediate action of the troops. Many of the men raised their muskets, and in the excitement of the moment would have fired, had they not been restrained by their officers, who pointed out the certain destruction it would entail on the unfortunate Clara. With the rapidity of thought, Wacousta had snatched up his victim, while the attention of the troops was directed to the singular conversation passing between the governor and Sir Everard Valletort, and darting through one of the open angles already alluded to, had gained the rampart before they had recovered from the stupor produced by his daring action. Stepping lightly upon the pegs, he had rapidly ascended to the utmost height of these, before any one thought of following him; and then grasping in his teeth the cord which was to have served for his execution, and holding Clara firmly against his chest, while he embraced the smooth staff with knees and feet closely compressed around it, accomplished the difficult ascent with an ease that astonished all who beheld him. Gradually, as he approached the top, the tapering pine waved to and fro; and at each moment it was expected, that, yielding to their united weight, it would snap asunder and precipitate both Clara and himself, either upon the rampart, or into the ditch beyond.

At length Wacousta was seen to gain the extreme summit. For a moment he turned his gaze anxiously beyond the town, in the direction of the