"He will be here to-morrow, and we will call again." And bidding Allen good evening, he retired to rest, and on the following day, Charles, hearing of his father, hastened to see him.

The Colonel embraced his son, and they gazed upon each other with saddened looks. Oh! how changed was his father in so short a time; the death of his mother and uncle all came home to Charles in one short moment. The realization never forced itself upon him with such overwhelming sorrow before. His aged father, how changed! he looked twenty years old er than when he left. Words were denied them; they could only look on each other with feelings of love and sorrow.

"My son," at length sobbed the Colonel, "thank God my eyes behold you again; I have come in search of you. I could not endure the loneliness of the old mansion after my sad bereavement."

"Are you alone, father? Where is that unfortunate girl?"

"She remained at the mansion, as she thought her presence would afford you no pleasure."

"She was very considerate," added Charles, with some bitterness.

"Did you hear, Charles, what a scrape I have fallen into since I came out here ?" "Yes, father, but there is no danger but that you will be acquitted."

"I have no fears of that, my son, but I regret the necessity of taking his miserable life; but, by-the-by, Charles, Edward Allen was so injured by this ruffian, that Dr. Potts says he cannot recover. He is now lying at this hotel."

"Is that so, father?" "Yes, my son, for I saw him last evening."

He deserves to die; his sickness only prevents me from taking his worthless life." "Nay, my son, be not too bitter."

"He has caused me more distress than all the world besides; he is too contemptible even for hatred."

46

Perhaps you will pity him, Charles, when you see him; I think he sincerely repents that one sin of his life."

They were interrupted in their conversation by the entrance of Dr. Potts. The Colonel introduced his son. The doctor stated that the object of his call on the Colonel was a request from Mr. Allen to see the Colonel and his son, as he thought he might expire before the next morning. They went immediately to Allen's room, and Charles lost his resentment in pity as he approached Allen, and took his hand.

"Can you forgive me, Charles? I have injured you in one way, but I have saved you in another. Adaline was not worthy of you; she was not a virtuous woman, and I knew it, but still I loved her and would have married her; but as soon as her shame was covered up she refused to marry me, and prevailed on her father to turn me from his office. I knew that Adaline was a mother, for my sister had and still has her child. But enough of this; there is one being that I would like to hear say she forgives me before I die; that innocent girl who redeemed the handkerchief with you, Charles."

"Was she aware of your schemes, Allen?" asked Charles, with evident concern.

"No, Charles, she knew.nothing about it; it was I who did it all, to avenge my faithless Adaline; and you may thank God that the opportunity offered itself, as I would have poisoned you that evening, for I had the fatal dose in my pocket."

They all sat stupefied in astonishment at this disclosure.

"Do you forgive me, Charles ?" asked Allen, falling back on his pillow, faint and exhausted.

"Yes, I forgive you, Allen, die in peace."

Allen drew his hand to his lips and faintly said, "Tell Kate to forgive me;" and falling back, he expired.

They looked sadly on the body of the unfortunate Allen.

"God grant him peace," said the Colonel, "for he has, I believe, brought a blessing to my house in saving Charles from an alliance

with that woman who caused him to end his days an exile from home." And leaving the room and poor Allen, they retired to their own apartments to consult a lawyer regarding their impending suit. The Colonel felt very little anxiety relative to his acquittal, as he did it in self-defence, but he must await a trial, which would cause a detention of ten days.

"Charles, will you write to poor Kate, as I have written but once since I left, and she will be very uneasy about us; do not tell her the cause of our detention, as she has enough to bear already."

"I will write immediately." And taking up a pen, he wrote her the following lines:

MRS. KATE MCCLURE:

met me in Jackson. We are tolerably well, and Madam After a tedious journey, my father we shall be detained here for two weeks. You may look for us home in about a month.

CHARLES MCCLURE.

After penning the above business lines,

he folded them in an envelope and addressed them to "MRS. KATE MCCLURE." "A cold letter to a young wife," thought Charles. "I little thought that I should write thus to a wife of mine, but how can I write otherwise to her after what has passed between us? She knows that I love another, but I wish I had pursued a different course; I think it would have been better. As my father and mother and uncle William loved her, there must be something good in her; I fear I have done her great injustice." While these painful thoughts were passing in the mind of Charles, he scarcely realized that a change had taken place in his feelings towards his young wife, from resentment to sympathy, since he heard Allen's confession. That Kate was innocent of being an accomplice of Allen's, he felt was certain, and that he had wronged her. He remembered the cutting notes sent her, and tears filled his eyes. "I will be just to her," he soliloquized; "if I cannot love her I will treat ber with respect - I will not add to the cap of gall she has already drank. I shall be very glad to return as soon as father's trial is over."

Time passed heavily to our heroes, but the day at length arrived, and before a crowded court-house the Colonel was honorably acquitted. Proof positive was given that it was done in self-defence; all seemed pleased at the verdict of the jury but Jim's two brothers, who seemed rather to dispute the justice of the Court; but no fears were entertained, and the next morning after the trial and acquittal, the Colonel and Charles started for home. They concluded to dispense with the previous conveyance, and to take the stage. The second day after leaving Jackson, two men came riding up to the stage and called to the driver to stop, and he, apprehending nothing, drew up his lines and the coach stopped, when they inquired for a bundle that they said had been left inside, the evening before. One of the passengers seeing the described parcel, opened the door, when one of the men fired a pistol at the Colonel, and immediately filed. The ball took effect in the Colonel's side, and falling over on his son's bosom, he expired without speaking. The passengers were all filled with consternation at the daring feat achieved by these desperadoes.

Drive on fast, for God's sake!" said Charles, supporting his father in his arms, while a red stream was fast ebbing from his wound, and lying in pools in the bottom of the coach. The whip cracked over the

1887

horses, and soon brought our distressed travelers to the village. The sad news caused considerable confusion and excitement.

Charles' feelings can be better imagined than described. The weather being very warm, he was compelled to have his beloved father buried in a strange village, in a strange church-yard.

After the solemn rites of the funeral service were concluded, Charles prosecuted his journey alone, downcast and brokenhearted, so oppressed with sorrow that his solemn countenance testified plainer than words could have spoken: "Ah! little did I think that I should return to my home to see my mother and my uncle no more; and have to bury my dear father in the swamps of Mississippi." In this melancholy state of mind he reached Charleston. The first object that met him was Adaline, seated in the parlor. She approached Charles, offering him her sympathy in tender terms, affecting the deepest feeling. Charles looked at her, wondering whether Allen's story was true or false. Could such a lovely looking and seemingly affectionate creature be so vile as she had been represented? He could not believe it. Adaline's quick apprehension disclosed to her the state of Charles' mind relative to her, and, pleased with her success, she determined to retain her hold on him, if possible.

"Dear Charles," she began, "I suppose you have heard that your forced wife has found a lover in the person of Mr. Bently. I am sorry to tell you this, with all your trouble and bereavement ;" and she forced the tears to fall on her beautiful white hand.

66

Adaline," said Charles, "I certainly appreciate your interest in me, but it grieves me exceedingly that my situation as a married man precludes my expressing what I feel; all I can say is, God bless and protect you from undeserved scandal ;" and, pressing her hand, he withdrew, and proceeded with his baggage to the old man. sion.

It was late in the afternoon when he ar rived at his old and once happy home; how changed now! All was lost to him; but still he had a trial to endure; he must live in the presence of one whom he did not love, and who did not love him. His sensitive nature was completely overcome at the prospects of his unhappy destiny; he felt he had one choice; duty, stern duty, only lay before him. With these painful thoughts he seated himself in the lonely

BY J. D. BORTHWICK.

CHAPTER II.

NAMA IN JULY, 1851-ITS ARCHITECTURE—
>HOPS CHURCHES-DIRT-DISEASES AND |
DIVERSIONS—EMBARK FOR SAN FRANCISCO—
FEVER-HARD FARE-ARRIVAL.

On our arrival we found the population sily employed in celebrating one of their Eumerable dias de fiesta. The streets sented a very gay appearance. The ves, all in their gala-dresses, were going e rounds of the numerous gaudily-ornauted altars which had been erected roughout the town; and mingled with crowd were numbers of Americans in ery variety of California emigrant cose. The scene was further enlivened the music, or rather the noise, of fifes, tams, and fiddles, with singing and chantinside the churches, together with ibs and crackers, the firing of cannon, i the continual ringing of bells. The town is built on a small promony, and is protected, on the two sides ing the sea, by batteries, and, on the ard side, by a high wall and a moat. A ze portion of the town, however, lies on outside of this.

Most of the houses are built of wood, stories high, painted with bright colrs, and with a corridor and verandah on be upper story; but the best houses are stone, or sun-dried bricks plastered over painted.

The churches are all of the same style * architecture which prevails throughout anish America. They appeared to be E a very neglected state, bushes, and even rees, growing out of the crevices of the

oges.

The towers and pinnacles are orBamented with a profusion of pearl-oyster shells, which, shining brightly in the sun, produce a very curious effect.

On the altars is a great display of gold ad silver ornaments and images; but the steriors, in other respects, are quite in Keeping with the dilapidated, uncared-for appearance of the outside of the buildings. The natives are white, black, and every ermediate shade of color, being a mix e of Spanish, Negro, and Indian blood. any of the women are very handsome, and on Sundays and holidays they dress ry showily, mostly in white dresses, with right-colored ribbons, red or yellow slip rs without stockings, flowers in their air, and round their necks, gold chains,

sizes linked together. They have a fashion of making their hair useful as well as ornamental, and it is not unusual to see the ends of three or four half-smoked cigars sticking out from the folds of their hair at the back of the head; for though they smoke a great deal, they never seem to finish a cigar at one smoking. It is amusing to watch the old women going to church. They come up smoking vigorously, with a cigar in full blast, but, when they get near the door they reverse it, putting the lighted end into their mouth, and in this way they take half-a-dozen stiff pulls at it, which seems to have the effect of putting it out. They then stow away the stump in some of the recesses of their "back hair," to be smoked out on a future occasion.

The native population of Panama is about eight thousand, but at this time there was also a floating population of Americans, varying from two to three thousand, all on their way to California; some being detained for two or three months waiting for a steamer to come round the Horn, some waiting for sailing vessels, while others, more fortunate, found the steamer, for which they had tickets, ready for them on their arrival. Passengers returning from San Francisco did not remain any time in Panama, but went right on across the Isthmus to Chagres.

Most of the principal houses in the town had been converted into hotels, which were kept by Americans, and bore, upon large signs, the favorite hotel names of the United States. There was also numbers of large American stores or shops, of various descriptions, equally obtruding upon the attention of the public by the extent of their English signs, while, by a few lines of bad Spanish scrawled on a piece of paper at the side of the door, the poor natives were informed, as a matter of cour tesy, that they also might enter in and buy, if they had the wherewithal to pay. Here and there, indeed, some native, with more enterprise than his neighbors, intimated to the public-that is to say, to the Americans-in a very modest sign, and in very bad English, that he had something or other to sell; but his energy was all theoretical, for on going into his store you would find him half asleep in his hammock, out of which he would not rouse himself if he could possibly avoid it. You were welcome to buy as much as you pleased; but he seemed to think it very hard that you could not do so without

giving him at the same time the trouble of selling.

Living in Panama was pretty hard. The hotels were all crammed full; the accommodation they afforded was somewhat in the same style as at Gorgona, and they were consequently not very inviting places. Those who did not live in hotels had sleeping-quarters in private houses, and resorted to the restaurants for their meals, which was a much more comfortable mode of life.

Ham, beans, chickens, eggs, and rice, were the principal articles of food. The beef was dreadfully tough, stringy, and tasteless, and was hardly ever eaten by the Americans, as it was generally found to be very unwholesome.

There was here at this time a great deal of sickness, and absolute misery, among the Americans. Diarrhoea and fever were the prevalent diseases. The deaths were very numerous, but were frequently either the result of the imprudence of the patient himself, or of the total indifference as to his fate on the part of his neighbors, and the consequent want of any care or attendance whatever. The heartless selfishness one saw and heard of was truly disgusting. The principle of " every man for himself" was most strictly followed out, and a sick man seemed to be looked upon as a thing to be avoided, as a hindrance to one's own individual progress.

There was an hospital attended by American physicians, and supported to a great extent by Californian generosity; but it was quite incapable of accommodating all the sick; and many a poor fellow, having exhausted his funds during his long detention here, found, when he fell sick, that in parting with his money he had lost the only friend he had, and was allowed to die, as little cared for as if he had been a dog. Many killed themselves by excessive drinking of the wretched liquor which was sold under the name of brandy, and others, by eating ravenously of fruit, green or ripe, at all hours of the day, or by living, for the sake of economy, on gingerbread and spruce-beer.

The sickness was no doubt much increased by the outrageously filthy state of the town. There seemed to be absolutely no arrangement for cleanliness whatever, and the heavy rains which fell, and washed down the streets, were all that saved the town from being swallowed up in the accumulation of its own corruption.

As may be supposed, such a large and motley population of foreigners, confined

in such a place as Panama, without any occupation, were not remarkably quiet or orderly. Gambling, drinking, and cockfighting were the principal amusements; and drunken rows and fights, in which pistols and knives were freely used, were of frequent occurrence.

The 4th of July was celebrated by the Americans in great style. The proceedings were conducted as is customary on such occasions in the United States. A procession was formed, which, headed by a number of fiddles, drums, bugles, and other instruments, all playing "Yankee Doodle" in a very free and independent manner, marched to the place of celebration, a circular canvass structure, where a circus company had been giving performances. When all were assembled, the Declaration of Independence was read, and the orator of the day made a flaming speech on the subject of George III. and the Universal Yankee Nation. A gentleman then got up, and, speaking in Spanish, explained to the native portion of the assembly what all the row was about; after which the meeting dispersed, and the further celebration of the day was continued at the bars of the different hotels.

I met with an accident here which laid me up for several weeks. I suffered a good deal, and passed a most weary time. All the books I could get hold of did not last me more than a few days, and I had then no other pastime than to watch the humming-ords buzzing about the flowers which grew around my window.

As soon as I was able to walk, I took passage in a barque about to sail for San Francisco. She carried about forty passengers; and as she had ample cabin accommodations, we were so far comfortable enough. The company was, as might be expected, very miscellaneous. Some were respectable men, and others were precious vagabonds. When we had been out but a few days, a fever broke out on board, which was not, however, of a very serious character. I got a touch of it, and could have cured myself very easily, but there was a man on board who passed for a doctor, having shipped as such: he had been physicing the others, and I reluctantly consented to allow him to doctor me also. He began by giving me some horrible emetic, which, however, had no effect; so he continued to repeat it, dose after dose, each dose half a tumblerful, with still no effect, till, at last, he had given me so much of it, that he began to be alarmed for the consequences. I was a little alarmed