to
stroke her face, which he did with a gravity that evinced perfect faith
in his own powers; and in the course of fifteen minutes, she declared
herself completely relieved, and cheerfully resumed her labors. Julia
ran to announce the cure to her mother.

"Is not it strange, mama," she said, "that she could believe it was
Jemmy that cured her?"

"Strange to us, my dear, who do not believe in any such supernatural
powers; but we will not quarrel with a faith that cures the
tooth-ache."

As the boat passed Fort Niagara, where the river debouches into the
lake, "There," said Jemmy Chapman to Edward, who stood beside him;
"there, on that point stood a noble stone light-house, that has saved
many a poor fellow from finding a grave in this stormy lake: it was like
the good scripture light which shines equally upon all."

"And what has become of it?" asked Edward.

"Oh, it was taken down like Solomon's temple, till there was not one
stone left upon another, by one of our generals--thank the Lord he was
not an American born--he it was, that first set the example of burning
on the frontier, and burnt down this pretty town of Newark here--and cut
down all the orchards."

"The orchards! what in the world did he do that for?" asked Edward.

Jemmy paused for a moment, apparently at a loss what motive to assign
for such reckless destruction, and then said, "Out of curiosity I
believe."

* * * * *

We fear that we have already protracted our details beyond the patience
of our readers.

We shall not therefore describe the prosperous passage of the boat over
the beautiful expanse of Lake Ontario: nor the visit of our friends
to the town of Rochester, which five years before was a complete
wilderness; but now had fine houses, shops, and warehouses, and Edward
said, reminded him of Adam, who was born grown up: nor their passage
from the lake into the St. Lawrence, where these mighty waters passing
St. Vincent on one side, and Grand Island on the other, contract their
channel, and assume the form of a river.

Our friends, wrapped in their cloaks and shawls to defend them from the
chill night air, clustered around Jemmy Chapman, who stood at the helm
guiding the boat through the difficult and shifting channels, amid the
'thousand isles'--now in silence gazing on them, as they were lit up
with the rosy hues of twilight, and then with the mild but insufficient
lustre of the half orbed