"And

hold these fettered limbs-and if that is not enough, listen while I tell you of the hell that is within me, and then say if it has not already fallen upon me. And yet she said she loved me but think you, Margaret, that she did not know what it was to leave a parent's curse upon a guilty child?" "O Frederick, I implore you, speak not thus," exclaimed Margaret ; think not so harshly, so unjustly, of her whose expiring love was your's-whose last prayer was offered for you." For me," he wildly uttered, "To whom?"-to him whose servant I have been, whose I am, and whose I shall be to all eternity?" and a convulsive shudder shook his enfeebled frame. "To whom besides ?" he continued, as Margaret strove to interrupt him : Was it to that God whom I have forgotten, forsaken, and qlasphemed? Behold, then, the reward of her presumption. yet," he added, in a subdued tone, "could it be that which stayed my arm when it was raised to hasten me, unprepared as I am, into his dreadful presence-could it be that which kept me guiltless of the crime for which I am about to suffer?-No, it cannot be. 1 dare not-I ought not hope, that, for a wretch like me, a prayer would be accepted." Rejoiced at the opportunity thus afforded her of entering upon the subject nearest to her heart, and relieved by finding she had been spared the task of awakening him to a sense of guilt, Margaret endeavoured to soothe him, and pour into his wounded spirit the balm which religion offers to the contrite and brokenhearted. As she repeated the words of inspiration, he shook his head mournfully and said, "those are happy, my love, to whom these messages of mercy are sent, but it is not to me-I have sins enough to answer for; tempt me not to add more presumption to them.' "I will not, Frederick," she replied:

66

presume not then to doubt His truth who hath declared, that he delighteth in mercy.' -I will leave this sacred volume with you: promise me that before I see you again you will read it with attention, and I am sure that you will find, as I have, many a kind invitation, which you may undoubtingly and joyfully accept." The time allowed for their visit was nearly expired, and Margaret anxiously inquired the meaning of his assertion that he was not guilty of the crime imputed to him. He informed her that, although present at the time the murder was committed, he did not even know by whom it was done—he was engaged at another table, and took little notice either of the quarrel or the scuffle that ensued, as they were of frequent occurrence, and it was not until the wretched victim was weltering in his blood that he had the slightest idea that it was likely to be attended with serious consequences. He then joined in the assembled crowd, and shortly after heard himself pointed out as the murderer. He was silent from astonishment, and this was construed by the bystanders into an evidence of guilt: it was those only who were at the time playing with him who could prove his innocence; but of them he had no knowledge, except as frequentors of the same iniquitous scene, and, with many others, left it as soon as the murder was make known.

Edmund lost no time in seeking out the person who was to be the chief witness against the accused, and, convinced that Frederick had spoken truly, did not hesitate to charge him with his intended perjury. Believing himself betrayed, he made no attempt to deny it; and Edmund soon learnt that his employer, who was, in fact, the guilty person, had been led to lay the crime upon Frederick, not only to prevent suspicion from falling upon himself, but in order to be revenged upon him for having won from him a considerable sum of money. He added, that he had joined in the scheme under a promise that he should not be required to pay a large bet which he had lost on the night of the murder, and that he would be ready to repeat in a court of justice, what he had then said, as it might answer his purpose quite as well. Edmund immediately made these disclosures known to the proper authorities, and the consequence of course was, that an order was given for Frederick's liberation, which the delighted and grateful Margaret received upon the morning of their second visit to the prison.

:

We attempt not to describe Frederick's feelings, when his sister informed him of the result of Edmund's indefatigable exertions. To be thus unexpectedly delivered from death, whose approach, even when comparatively innocent, he had ever regarded with terror and dismay, but which now, attended with dishonour, ignominy, and shame-came to demand a soul stained with a far deeper shade of guilt, was joy almost greater than he could bear. For some time his emotions choked his utterance, but when his, agitation had so far subsided as to allow him to express his feelings, they became calmer, and he conversed cheerfully while preparations were making for his departure. And yet," he said, "gloomy and wretched as this cell appears, and gladly as I leave it, I have experienced within it more real happiness than I have ever done in the gay and glittering scenes of dissipation and folly. For you have not deceived me, Margaret in this holy book I have found all-more than all you promised me, and feel assured that even for me there is pardon and acceptance. “Oh my mother,” he continued, as his eyes filled with tears, "if angels feel joy at the repentance of a sinner, how great will thine be if I am permitted to share thy eternal felicity.' 'Now, Frederick, receive her parting gift and blessing," said Margaret, as she drew from her bosom the lock of her mother's hair. He pressed it in silence to his lips, and paused for a few moments, as if trying to gain courage to look at it. He started as he observed its silvery hue, and said with deep dejection, "was it for me to doubt thy love, my mother, when sorrow for my sake had wrought this mournful change? Shall I say I am not a murderer, when I have brought down thy' grey hairs with sorrow to the grave ?" " He looked despondingly at Margaret, who was anxiously watching the varying expressions of his countenance: her encouraging smile dispelled the clouds which were again gathering around him, and he added, more cheerfully, "I understand you, my love; you would bid me not

99.66

despair; you have come as heaven's messenger, as a ministering angel, to bring me peace, and shall I not accept the boon? Yes, Margaret, I receive it thankfully; and if at some future time it should again take wing, may my mother's blessing stay its flight, and, returning to my bosom a welcome and abiding guest, prove the prevailing efficacy of a Parent's Prayer."

LOST AND FOUND;

OR,

THE BUSHRANGER'S CONFEDERATE.

[A TALE OF THE COLONY.]

CHAPTER III.

"I

We must now follow our hero and Mr. Martin to Hobart Town. Edgar rode at once to the Macquarie—and, sought a private room to muse over his situation. His meditations were anything but agreeable; for, now, that the ebullition of his wrath had subsided, he saw very plainly the imprudent impetuosity of his conduct. have certainly acted very wrong"-he thought; "for I have lost a good berth, and quarrelled with a good master. Master, did I say? -No-There's the rub! If Mr. St. Clair, who, proud as he is, may, not, after all, be a bit higher in the world than myself, had not bullied me, as he did; and, above all, if he had not taunted me with my dependency, I would have gone on to Perth, then and there, instead of galloping here, and capsizing the Governor en route ! Verily, verily, Master Edgar Walton,-you are in a very precious predicament, and what is to become of you is more than I can tell. Prudence bids me go back and beg pardon,-promise to be a good boy for the future, and hasten, with all imaginable speed to Perth, there to await the commands of my imperious employer; but Pride says, No! thou shalt humble thyself to no mortal breathing; and, so, I'll get some luncheon, and, then, set my wits to work to mend the hole I have made in my fortunes." He ordered his luncheon, accordingly, and, leaving him to discuss it, with what appetite he may, return we to watch over the proceedings of Mr. Francis Martin.

This worthy, instead of following the instructions of his master, and immediately seeking an interview with Edgar Walton, pursued his way through the bush, carefully avoiding the direct road, and keeping a bye-path, leading along the high ground, under Mount

Wellington. Before he descended towards the town, he arrived at the door of a small log-hut, when, dismounting, he tied his horse' to the stump of a gum-tree, and, without knocking, or intimation of any kind, he stealthily entered the dwelling.

66

'Lawk! Mr. Martin!" said a coarse, and masculine-looking young woman, who was frying some mutton chops in a large and dirty frying-pan-" I wonder what's in the wind now."

Hold your tongue, hussey! and, tell me, where's your mother?" "How do I know?" answered the girl, pertly--“ Go and find out, if you want to know."

"I tell yo what, Miss Mary," said Mr. Martin, holding his riding whip over the girl—“ I'll give you the smartest flogging you ever had in your life, if you give me any more of your impudence."

Thank you!" said the girl, sharply,-" and do you think I'd be such a fool as to let you?-Two can play at that game, you know, Mr. Martin."

Mr. Martin bit his lips, to restrain his rising choler, for he well knew, it was but very bad policy for his present purpose, to quarrel with this froward damsel. Well, well, Mary!" said he, with an effort, "tell me where the old lady is—as I want very much to see her." "Do you though?" said Mary, jeeringly-" Well, I'm sure-and what for, pray

By G-!" said Martin, now in a tremendous passion-" If you don't tell me this instant, I'll strike you to the earth.'

66

Well, then, I will," replied Mary, hurriedly-" she's gone to Camp."

66

66

What has she gone there for?" murmured Martin.

To get some stores," was the answer.

'Is that all?" asked Martin, fixing his piercing dark eye upon the girl."

"I-I-I-" stammered Mary.

"You, what?" rejoined Martin.

"I believe so," said the girl, composedly. "Umph!" muttered Martin.

father at Camp, too?"

Then I am mistaken. Is your

"No! he's gone to Ned Doyley's."

Oh! well-that's right. Here, give him that, when he comes back" and he thrust a small parcel into Mary's greasy hand, left the hut, mounted his horse, and rode as swiftly towards Hobart Town, as the broken nature of the road would let him.

Arriving at Hobart Town, he sped quickly down Elizabeth-street, and proceeded at once to the Old Jetty. Here he entered a publichouse of a more respectable kind, than was usual, at that time, in the town. He called for a glass of brandy-drank it,-passed through the common room, or "tap," and, crossing a short yard, entered a wooden skilling, or shed, on the premises.

The outer door opened at once into the room, and, as he advanced, a loaded pistol was presented to his head.

"You are on the alert, I see, Butler," said Mr. Martin, as he pushed the pistol gently from him with his riding-whip, and took a seat on a bench, by the fire. "You might have guessed it was no foe, as none but friends, I thought, knew the spring of the door.”

May be so, Mister Francis," replied Butler, "but it is hard to tell, who is one's friends, these ticklish times;" and the man bent a sharp and inquisitive glance on Mr. Martin.

"You are right, Butler, very right; but you may always judge of your friends by their actions, may you not?"

"Yes! and our foes, too," answered Butler, coolly.

"Right again, Butler-you grow wise in your wickedness; but I have some news for you.'

"That I shall be hanged, I suppose, before the month is out—eh, Master Frank?"

Not at all unlikely thought Martin-but he said "Hanged! You hanged.-Pho!-nonsense: What put that in your head, eh?” " Jobson's split," said Butler, "and peached us all."

The devil he has!" exclaimed Martin, changing colour: "all, did you say? Are you sure he has blown us all ?”

"Us all! What have you to do with it?" Martin breathed more freely, and resumed his confidence.-" True, Butler, I had no hand in the Pitt-water job; and so, of course, I am safe from Jobson's treachery. But where are your comrades? Where's Neale, and Duffy, Jones, Scraggs and Jefferies?"

"They are all out on a quest, but I expect them in every minutecan you wait till they come? Your advice may help us, just now.” "Yes;-I'll wait a while, if they are not long; as I have a job of my own in hand, that requires despatch."

"And what may that be?"

"I want to plan a robbery, and throw the blame on a young friend of mine."

"What! young Walton ?-How will you do that?"

66

Oh! easy enough; your mob must do it, and leave me to fix it upon the youngster."

"Is the swag heavy?"

“Tol-lol—there's plenty of stores-tea, sugar, beef, pork, rum, and tobacco-enough to last you three months, and you may eat and drink, till you burst again."

66

But how can we work with these cursed warrants out ?" "Listen to me. You must take the Bush-that, of course, you have settled upon. Well-now, they have scoured Pitt-water-both the upper and lower settlements,-that is as good a hiding-place for you as any other. Now, you know my master's estate there.-Well, -you must rob the house, and I'll manage to bring Master Walton in for the business."

"Hang me, Martin," said Butler, with a grin-" you are a bigger rogue than I took you to be-but when is the job to be done?"

'To-morrow or next day. The youngster is now in Camp: he has