was

"And why not?" replied he, I not happy to have been on the spot when my dear father breathed his last? Oh, it was the most fortunate moment of my life. I have no one now to mourn for me, and if 1 die to-morrow I shall not draw a tear from a human eye. I am without kindred, a citizen of the world, and may, possibly, as I pass along, administer to the enjoyment of my fellow beings, but I cannot diminish their happiness."

"I am thinking," said Conrad, "if we three should fall, you might be a son to our father."

"And a brother to Alice," added Edward.

"Most willingly would I," said the soldier; "but would they receive me? Who will vouch for my character ?"

66

"I will," said Edward, with anima.tion, you stood my friend because I was oppressed. I had no other claim upon you. I will write an account' of the whole affair to my father. He is generous, and will confide in you.".

"And I," said Conrad, "have a commission that will prove you are no impostor. Look," said he, "it is the picture of my mother. I always wear it next my heart. She was as good as an angel, and I feel as if no evil could come where she is. You shall deliver this to Alice, and tell her I sent it."

"Be it so," exclaimed De Lancey. "If I survive you, I will seek out your father and offer my services. If I die, I bequeath to the survivors my knapsack and its contents. You will find a hundred Napoleons in it. It is all I am worth, and now let us to bed and sleep till morning."

"Not yet," said Conrad; we must do all that is to be done this evening. Good landlord, bring me pen and ink, and you shall be our witness." He then

wrɔte

"DEAR AND HONOURED FATHER!

"When you receive this letter, your three sons will be no more.. Frederic de Lancey is the bearer of it. He has done tour dear Edward a sigual service, and I

have thought him trustworthy to convey to Alice the picture of my mother. My heart bleeds when I think of your, without one prop for your old age, save our innocent and helpless sister. We are all satisfied De Lancey would be a faithful son to you if you will permit him to be. In case of his death to-morrow-and the chances of war are alike to all he has bequeathed to us all he is worth, and it is the earnest wish of my brothers as well as myself, that if he should be the only survivor, you would adopt him; and if he and sister Alice should fancy each other, that he may become a son in reality.

"In case he is the sole survivor, I be queath him all my part of the inheritance, and my brothers do the same always in deference to- you-entreating you will consider this as our last will and testament.

"CONRAD DE CASTELLON.
"PHILIP DE CASTELLON.
"EDWARD De Castellon.

"Witness,

"JEAN PIPON, landlord of the Plucked Hen."

The letter was sealed and directed to the father. Then Conrad, taking the miniature, which was fastened to his neck by a black ribbon, pressed it to his lips, and his brothers did the same.

De Lancey was lodged in the room with the Conscripts. In a few moments his breathing denoted that he had sunk into that calm and tranquil sleep that belongs to health of body and mind. Philip and Edward, too, forgot for a while their gloomy presentiments, and slept quietly. But not so Conrad. He felt a responsibleness pressing upon him that he could neither avert nor control. The rain continued to pour in torrents, and the wind shook the miserable dwelling to its foundation. Amid the tumult of the elements, the clattering of the horses' hoofs, the shrill notes of the trumpet, and the heavy roll of the drum, might be distinguished. New companies were entering the village, and the shouts of Vive l'Empereur still resounded in his ear: Conrad gazed upon his sleeping brothers, and his soul melted as he thought of them on the field of battle.

The morning dawned upon his unclosed eyes, when, with that weariness, which seems almost like perverseness, nature could resist no longer, and he fell into a slumber. He was awakened by the voice of his brothers, and, starting up, found De Lancey already gone. The brothers gave each other a long and close embrace, and hastened to their ranks.

The weather was yet unsettled. A thick mist enveloped the country around, and as the armies approached each other, neither friends nor foes could be distin

guished. It was not till late in the morning that the clouds dispersed, and the sun broke forth in all its splendour. The dense and heavy vapours separated, and the clear blue sky was seen in distant perspective. At length even the fleecy clouds rolled away, and all was calm and tranquil in the heavens, forming a striking contrast to the scene below. The two armies were engaged in desperate contest. The once fertile valley and vine covered hills lay blended by the smoke of the cannon, and confused shouts rent

the air.

How many mothers, widows, and orphans, have wept for that day! How many beheld the "brave and beautiful" go forth to battle! Years have passed away, and memory still asks, "Where are they?" Amidst the tumult of war one scene of private distress was passing. Seated on a little hillock, and supporting his youngest brother's head upon his lap, sat Conrad de Castellon. His pale countenance and knit brow, discovered the agony of his feelings. Nor was it wholly mental. His leg had been shattered by a cannon ball, but it was only of Edward he thought. "Oh! for a drop of water," he exclaimed, 66 one draught might save him!" But who would stop in the full career of victory to administer to the wants of one dying man, when thousands lay around? French army were in the full career of victory. "On, on, to Brussels!" rung on every side.

The

"Is there no human aid ?" said Conrad, and he rested his brother's head against a prostrate soldier and strove to rise; but it was impossible, and he fell back with a groan and fainted.

He was

roused by the voice of De Lancey. "Up, comrade!" said he, "the horse are advancing; you will be trampled under foot." Conrad pointed to his disabled leg, and the lifeless boy that lay before him. He was, indeed, lifeless. The spirit had passed away, and the stiffness of death had succeeded to the last pressure of his brother's hand.

"We can do nothing for him," said De Lancey; "he is gone. But I may save you," and, taking the soldier in his arms, he bore him to a place of safety, and laid him on the turf.

cautiously sought the spot where he had left Conrad. He found him still watching by his brother.

I have secured a place for you in a waggon," said De Lancey. "You must go to the Hospital of St. Catharine. You will be taken good care of."

"I cannot leave him," said Conrad, still clinging to his brother; "my poor Edward!"

"He is better off than we are," said the soldier, "for he does not live to see the disgrace of our army. All is lost! And well it might be," continued he, indignantly, "when they forced boys. like this from the arms of their mothers,' and he parted the curls of his hair, and the moon shone on his white forehead. "I pledge you my honour," continued he, that I will see him buried where. vultures cannot reach him. I will convey you to the waggon, and return to this spot again. To-morrow I will see you at the Hospital, where I hope to find you doing well.”

Faithful to his promise, De Lancey joined him in the morning. The surgeon had already passed judgment on the wounded soldier. A violent fever had set in, and amputation of the limb, which would have been his only chance, would now hasten his end-he must die.

"Let it be so," said Conrad, "my. father will yet have a staff for his age if Philip lives; if not, remember your promise."

De Lancey staid by his friend till he breathed his last, and then took every means to ascertain whether Philip had survived the battle. His inquiries proved fruitless, but from several circumstances he felt sanguine in the belief that he was not among the slain, and naturally concluded he must have returned to his father. He regretted that he could not. have restored the picture to him. will cost me a journey, now," said he, "but I will wait till Philip has been at home, a few weeks.' As time weakened his impressions his resolutions grew fainter; for, it must be confessed, Fortunatus was not one of those that thought it good to go to the house of mourning.' He had, from his youth upward, been the subject of perpetual change, and had seen death in too many forms to be startled at it but the tears of a father and a sister he knew not how to encounter.

A cloud had obscured his brow for a few days after this event, but it was soon dissipated, and he again became the happy, light hearted Fortunatus.

(To be continued.)

back to their own country, with the means of imitating what their own progress enabled them to comprehend were blessings, Their passion is war; and they carry on that excitement in the most terrific way that the fierceness of man has ever devised; they devour their slaughtered enemies. And yet they feel that this rude warfare may be assisted by the arts of destruction which civilized men employ; and they come to us for the musket and the sword, to invade or to repel the invader. All these, and many more features of their character, shew an intellectual vigour, which is the root of ultimate civilization. They are not insensible to the arts of cultivated life, as the New Hollander is ;—or wholly bound in the chain of superstitions which control the efforts of the docile Hindoo, and hold his mind in thraldom. They are neither apathetic as the Turk, who believes that nothing can change the destiny of himself or his nation; nor self-satisfied as the poor Tartar, who said, "Were I to boast, it would be of that wisdom I have received from God; for as, on the one hand, I yield to none in the conduct of war, so on the other, I have my talent in writing, inferior perhaps only to them who inhabit the great cities of Persia or India. Of other nations, unknown to me, I do not speak." The New Zealander knows his own power as a savage; but he also knows that the people of European communities have a much more extensive and durable power, which he is desirous to share. He has his instruments of bone, but he asks for iron; he has his club, but he comes to us for a musket. Baubles he despises. He possesses the rude arts of savage nations in an eminent degree he can carve elegantly in wood, and he is tattooed with a graceful minuteness which is not devoid of symmetrical elegance. Yet he is not insensible to the value of the imitative arts of Europeans, and he takes delight in our sculpture and our paintings. His own social habits are unrefined-his cookery is coarse-his articles of furniture are rude. Yet he adapts himself at once to the usages of the best English society, and displays that ease and self-confidence which are the peculiar marks of individual refinement. He exhibits little contradiction between his original condition of a cannibal at home, and his assumed one of a gentleman here. Add to all this, that he is as capable of friendship as of enmity, and we shall have no difficulty in perceiving that the New Zealander

History of the Tartars; quoted in Fergusson's Civil Society.

possesses a character which, at no distant period, may become an example of the rapidity with which the barbarian may be wholly refined, when brought into contact with a nation which neither insults nor oppresses him, and which exhibits to him the influence of a benevolent religion in connexion with the force of practical knowledge.

Tattooing.-The tattooing of the young New Zealander, before he takes his rank as one of the warriors of his tribe, is doubtless also intended to put his manhood to the proof; and may thus be regarded as having the same object with those ceremonies of Initiation, as they have been called, which are practised among some other savage nations on the admission of an individual to any new degree of honour or chieftainship † Among many nations of the American Indians, indeed, this cutting and marking of the person is one of the principal inflictions to which the aspirants is required to submit on such occasions. Thus, in the account which Rochefort, in his History of the Antilles, gives us of the initiation of a warrior among the people of those islands, it is stated that the father of the young man, after a very rude flagellation of his son, used to proceed to scarify (as he expresses it) his whole body with a tooth of the animal called the acouti; § and then, in order to heal the gashes thus made, he rubbed into them an infusion of pimento, which occasioned an agonizing pain to the poor patient; but it was indispensable that he should endure the whole without the least contortion of countenance or any other evidence of suffering. Wherever, indeed, the spirit of war has entered largely into the institutions of a people, as it has almost always done among savage and imperfectly civilized nations, we find traces of similar observances. Something of the same object which has just been attributed to the tattooing of the New Zealanders, and the more complicated ceremonies of initiation practised among the American Indians, may be recognised even in certain of the rites of European chivalry, whether we take them as described in the learned volumes of Du Cange, or in the more amusing recitals of Cervantes.

The New Zealanders, like many other

savages, are also in the habit of anointing themselves with a mixture of grease and red ochre. This sort of rouge is very much used by the women, and "being generally," says Cook, "fresh and wet upon their cheeks and foreheads, was easily transferred to the noses of those who thought fit to salute them; and that they were not wholly averse to such familiarity, the noses of several of our people strongly testified." "The faces of the men,' " he adds, 66 were not so generally painted; yet we saw one, whose whole body, and even his garments, were rubbed oves with dry ochre, of which he kept a piece constantly in his hand, and was every minute renewing the decoration in one part or another, where he supposed it was become deficient*."

It has been conjectured, that this painting of the body, among its other uses, might also be intended, in some cases, as a protection against the weather, or, in other words, to serve the same purpose as clothing. Even where there is no plastering, the tattooing may be found to indurate the skin, and to render it less sensible to cold. This notion, perhaps, derives some confirmation from the appearance which these marks often assume. Cook describes some of the New Zealanders, whom he saw on his first visit to the country, as having their thighs stained entirely black, with the exception only of a few narrow lines, "so that at first sight," says he, "they appeared to wear striped breechest." The Baron de Humboldt, too, informs us, that the Indians of Guiana sometimes imitate, in the oddest manner, the clothes of Europeans in painting their skin. This observant traveller was much amused by seeing the body of a native painted to represent a blue jacket and black buttons. The missionaries also told him that the people of the Rio Caura painted themselves of a red ground, and then variegate the colour with transverse stripes of silver mica, so that they look most gallantly dressed. The painted cheeks that were once common in Europe, and are still occasionally seen, are relics of the same barbarism.

Origin of the New Zealanders.-No doubt whatever can exist as to the relationship of the New Zealanders to the numerous other tribes of the same complexion, by whom nearly all the islands of the South Sea are peopled, and who, in physical conformation, language, religion, institutions, and habits, evidently constitute only one great family. Recent in

Cook's First Voyage, ii. 314.

+ Id. vol. ii,

vestigations, likewise, must be considered to have sufficiently proved, that the wave of population, which has spread itself over so large a portion of the surface of the globe, has flowed from the same central region which all history points to as the cradle of our race, and which may be here described generally as the southern tract of the great continent of Asia. This prolific clime, while it has on the one hand sent out its successive detachments of emigrants to occupy the wide plains of Europe, has on the other discharged its overflowing numbers upon the islands of the Pacific, and, with the exception of New Holland and a few other lands in its immediate vicinity, the population of which seems to be of African origin, has, in this way, gradually spread a race of common parentage over all of them, from those that constitute what has been called the great Indian Archipelago, in the immediate neighbourhood of China, to the Sandwich Isles and Easter Island, in the remotest east of that immense expanse of waters. The Malay language spoken, although in many different dialects and degrees of corruption, throughout the whole of this extensive range, which, measured in one direction, stretches over nearly half the equatorial circumference of the globe, and in another over at least seventy degrees of latitude. The people are all also of the same brown or copper complexion, by which the Malay is distinguished from the white man on the one hand, and the negro on the other.

In New Zealand, however, as, indeed, in most of the other seats of this race, the inhabitants are distinguished from each other by a very considerable diversity in the shades of what may be called the common hue. Crozet was so much struck with this circumstance, that he does not hesitate to divide them into three classes,

whites, browns, and blacks,―the last of whom he conceives to be a foreign admixture received from the neighbouring continent of New Holland, and who, by their union with the whites, the original inhabitants of the country, and still decidedly the prevalent race, have produced those of the intermediate colour.§ Whatever may be thought of this hypothesis, it is certain that in some parts of New Zealand, the natives are much fairer than in others. Cook remarks, in the account of his first voyage, that the people about

p. 330.

Zealanders as white as the French.