phere told of a coming
storm, and ere to-morrow our path would be blocked up. America is the
land of invention; and here we were, on the dreary shore, in the dusky
twilight--a situation which requires the aid of philosophy. We were
something in the predicament of the Russian sailors in Spitzbergen, we
wanted light to guide us on the "blaze," without which we could not keep
it; but beyond the gleam of a patent congreve, our means extended not.
One of our company, however, a native of the country, took the matter
easy. Some birch trees were growing near, from which he stripped a
portion of the silvery bark, which being rolled into torches, were
ignited; each carried a store, and by their brilliant light we set out
on our pilgrimage. The effect of our most original Bude on the
snow-wreathed forest was magical--we seemed to traverse the palace
gardens of enchantment, so strange yet splendid was the scene--the snow
shining pure in the distance, and the thousand ice gems gleaming ruby
red in the rays of our torches. They are wondrous to walk through, those
boundless forests, when one thinks that by a slight deviation from the
track the path would be lost; and, ere it could be found again, the
spirit grow weary in its wanderings, and, taking its flight, leave the
unshrouded brows to bleach on summer flowers or winter snows, in the
path where the graceful carraboo bounds past, or the bear comes guided
by the tainted breeze to where it lies.

It was on this midnight ramble that the facts of the following lines
were related to me, ending not, as such tales generally do, in death,
but in what perchance was worse,--civilisation lost in barbarism.

Many years ago two children, daughters of a person residing in this
province, were lost in the woods. What had been their fate none knew
--no trace of them could be found until, after a long period of time
had elapsed, one of them was discovered among some Indians, by whom they
had been taken, and with whom this one had remained, the other having
joined another tribe. She appeared an Indian squaw in every respect--her
complexion had been stained as dark as theirs--her costume was the same,
but she had blue eyes. This excited suspicion, which proved to be
correct. The story of the lost children was remembered, which event
occurred thirty years before. With some difficulty she was induced to
meet her mother, her only remaining parent. The tide of time swept back
from the mother's mind, a