youth, armed with a rifle, came bounding in amongst the multitude. His frank countenance bespoke his welcome; he leaned his gun against a tree, and before he could speak his wishes, the hospitable chief had grasped his hand.

"Pretty considerable of room," exclaimed the American, (for a sallow visage, tanned by the climate, pepper, and burnt brandy, proclaimed him such,) "I've lost my way coming from Charleston, must be near Quebec, I went by sea, and have come back by land." The chief contrived an interpreter, and assured him of his welcome, and of his near neighbourhood to Quebec.

"I loved a girl at that place some years ago, and here I am to claim her," said the traveller, whom sundry glasses of rum had roused beyond the usual flow of American talk. The chief began to rally his guest upon his wealth.

"Scarce a quarter-dollar in my pocket; that's what I can promise you," said the American. The Indian was curious to know how his intended uncle would receive him at Quebec, and the reader needs hardly be informed that the visiter of the encampment was no other than Chillers.

"That is what I cannot tell," replied the guest, whose coolness attracted the especial wonder of the chief. "But what have we here?" cried Chillers; " a woman, all in white too!"

A girl, apparently worn by fatigue, now staggered towards the spot where the Chief and the South Carolinian sat, and instantly sank upon the ground.

"It is not, it cannot be Louisa," exclaimed the youth, gazing on the pale features before him; "it must be." He knelt by the side of the stranger, whilst the cordial efforts of the friendly tribe were united to revive her.

"That voice calls me back to life," she said at length, as the American was pouring forth his vows that she might yet be spared.

"Then it is the same whom my soul has loved!" and the man of Charleston leaped up with frantic extasy.

"But how came she in this place, and in this condition ?" He almost instinctively looked towards his rifle as he spoke, and for a moment suspicions of the Indians crossed his mind. But Louisa Pipon soon gained strength enough to tell her simple tale, and to explain how the shoutings of the dance had reached her in her desolate home, how her heart throbbed between hope and fear, how she at length went desperately forth, to trust the strangers or to perish.

And what were not the feelings of the Canadian when he saw his niece again, and in safety! What could he have set in array against the pleasures of that moment! He would scarcely hear the self-accusing story of the American, how, at first, Chillers had put up with a bad "location" in South Carolina; how he had got a better "pitch" afterwards, and at last determined to go in search of his bride, without the certainty of a hundred dollars. It did not signify to Mr. Pipon; he had learnt a serious lesson; his heart and purse opened lavishly at once there was enough for all. He gave the young couple his blessing, promised to surrender his niece's fortune, and never repented when his transports had passed away.

The bishop married them, (the same prelate who was to have fulfilled the ceremony of seclusion,) and whatever his ideas of monastic virtue might have been, a satisfaction beyond all guile gleamed on his countenance at these nuptials, which shed honour on the man, because it was true to nature.

MEREWORTH CASTLE,

THE SEAT OF THE BARONESS LE DESPENCER.

MEREWORTH gave name to an ancient family, of whom, Sir William de Mereworth was with Richard Coeur de Lion at the siege of Acre. It afterwards passed, by females, through the Fitzalan, Beauchamp, and Neville families, to the Fanes; and from them, by bequest, to Sir Francis Dashwood, Bart., of High Wycomb, late Lord Le Despencer, with remainder to Sir Thomas Stapleton, Bart., who since succeeded to the title of Baron Le Despencer, and whose grand-daughter and heiress is now the owner of this fine district.

The splendid residence of this Lady, called Mereworth Castle, was erected by the late Mildmay Fane, eighth Earl of Westmoreland, after a design by Colin Campbell, from a beautiful building by Palladio, but better adapted, perhaps, for the climate of Italy than that of England. Though termed a castle, it cannot lay the least claim, or set up the slightest pretension, to that appellation, except from the circumstance of its having been built on the site of an ancient embattled mansion, the old moat of which still surrounds the present fabric.

It consists of a centre, and two wings for offices, of equal elegance. That in which the stables are, stands on the spot formerly occupied by the parish church, which was pulled down by the earl, who had a new one erected in the middle of the village.

The principal part is towards the north. The entrance opens under a portico, ascended by a grand flight of steps.