bone. There I lay, the sure prey of the monster. Your father was far away, watching the beaver traps; so I commended my soul to God, and thought my life was gone. I had presence I had of mind enough left to draw my knife and attempt to defend myself; but it was too much for me, and my arm sank helpless by my side. Suddenly I heard a sharp crack; the bear lifted up one paw, and then fell over as dead as a stone. It was your father, who, having seen the track of the bear, had followed it, and shot the beast right through the brain.

"I was saved! but my shoulder gave me dreadful pain. Your father understood something of doctoring, and I put more faith in him than in those who write Dr. before their names, and mend every bone crooked. He bound up the joint, and dressed it with the fat of the bear. For six weeks he divided all his time between me and the beaver traps, cooking all my food, and caring for me like a mother, till I was better.

"That is one story, Ralph, but I could tell you a hundred more of his true friendship, which you don't know. And Tom is dead! the soul of my soul, the heart of my heart! Tom dead! Why should I live? Tom, the best hunter, the cleverest beaver trapper, the boldest fighter with the Indians, the truest and most self-sacrificing friend! Tom, my brother! why have you left me alone?" And his face sank again into his hands, as he groaned aloud.

"You are not alone, Father Williams," said

the young man; "I have come to be with

Jack looked up at him steadily.

Yes!" said he, "this is worthy of his son ; but there is something wanting-do you comprehend me, boy?"

"I love you as much as he did," said Ralph, forgetting his own sorrow in that of the old

man.

"Yes, that is true, my boy, I know that, and that is the only joy I've got left; but haven't you a mother who is now a widow?"

"Oh, yes; but the Bible says, 'God is the husband of the widow, and the father of the fatherless.""

"Indeed, does it say so?" said he, with a sigh. "And what will you do, Ralph ?"

66

'I will go with with you, and catch beavers,” said Ralph in a firm voice.

"But what does your good mother say to that?"

"She is quite agreeable."

"Quite willing and satisfied, Ralph ?"
“Yes.”

She is an excellent woman, and worthy to be the wife of one of the best of men, as she was," said Jack.

"But," he continued, after a little thought, "your father once spoke to me about your little farm; how is it getting on?"

"He told you that it wasn't quite paid for, didn't he?" answered the youth.

"I think he did, Ralph; but my sorrow about him has taken away all my recollection.

I think he told me the sum, but I have quite forgotten."

"There are two hundred dollars to pay still," said Ralph, with a sigh. "Perhaps we might raise it by mortgage: my mother doesn't want much. I have fenced in the field, and sown it with maize, potatoes, and wheat, and planted another field with onions, and there are beans and other vegetables in the garden. The hens lay capital eggs, and we have two cows and three pigs. Work will help my mother to forget her sorrow; and the farmers in the neighbourhood are very kind, and often visit her and comfort her. If I am successful in hunting, I shall go home this time next year, and take her what I have saved."

"Capital!" exclaimed Jack Williams, “capital! just as Tom's son ought to speak. But, Ralph, I thank God that I can take the heaviest load off your heart. Your father's share of the furs after paying for the firstrate traps which I have bought, as well as for the powder and lead, the groceries, and all that we need, and a good horse to carry everything-is two hundred dollars. Look here, here it is in this leather bag. There, my boy, take it and go home as fast as you can, and pay off the debt on the farm, so that your poor widowed mother can live in it in peace and comfort; and here's sixty dollars, the rest of my share-give that to your mother too: what's the use of money to me? I've ot all that I want, and she must live com

fortably who knows what may happen to me before a year's over. Take it to her, Ralph, with my best regards."

Ralph looked at him with emotion, but wouldn't take it till he saw by the old man's rising anger that it was no use resisting; so, after taking some refreshment, he hastened off.

"I shall wait here for you," said Jack. "Don't stay long away, or I shall get melancholy."

Scarcely was he gone, and the old man alone, than he resumed his seat in the corner, and once more gave himself up to his sorrow. "Ah, Tom!" sighed he, "why haven't you taken me with you? What shall I do down here? Life was only worth having when I was with you." He groaned again from the

bottom of his heart.

"And yet it is a pity," he murmured again, "that you should have died in a blockhouse and in bed. A hunter and a fighter like you ought to have died in battle, fighting with the Indian rascals. But no; it would have broken Betsy's heart, if she couldn't have nursed you. That will be her consolation now. After all, God has done it the best way; but I think I shall follow you soon-very soon, Tom.

"Oh that I had been worthy of all your love!" he said again, after a long silence, during which he had sat brooding. "It ought not to have been so, but Ralph shall be my heir."

This thought seemed to raise his spirits and comfort him for the time.

He had to wait a week before Ralph came back. Every day he sat in the same corner alone. He ate scarcely anything, but smoked constantly, and his thoughts seemed to follow the clouds of smoke up towards heaven. He lived in the recollection of days gone by, which he had spent with Tom Redstone in the woods. All that had passed came up before his mind, and his love invested his lost friend with a halo of glory. All that he had done for Tom, which was quite as much as he had received, he seemed to have entirely forgotten, and only the kindness which Tom had shown to him seemed now to have any value. Often at night, as he lay in bed unable to sleep, and when none could observe him, his sorrow broke out in tears as he thought of his loneliness.

He, however, gradually grew calmer. He swore to Tom, as though he had been alive, that he would watch over Ralph like the apple of his eye; and by degrees all his love for Tom was transferred to the boy, for whose future he began to lay plans. This was a favourable turn in his life, and raised his sinking strength to something like its wonted energy.

At last Ralph came back, and Jack Williams rejoiced when he saw him. Ralph had to tell him how he had found his mother, and he added how she thanked God that the farm was now all her own, and how she had received his present with tears of thankfulness, and had sent him her blessing.

The countenance of Jack Williams, which had long been a stranger to gladness, now