on board. It was long before they ventured to comply. Those who mounted the deck met with no oppositionno one was to be seen on board; for Mr Lewis, after inviting them, had disappeared. Other canoes now pressed forward to board the prize; the decks were soon crowded, and the sides covered with clambering savages, all intent on plunder. In the midst of their eagerness and exultation, the ship blew up with a tremendous explosion. Arms, legs, and mutilated bodies were blown into the air, and dreadful havoc was made in the surrounding canoes. The interpreter was in the mainchains at the time of the explosion, and was thrown unhurt into the water, where he succeeded in getting into one of the canoes. According to his statement, the bay presented an awful spectacle after the catastrophe. The ship had disappeared; but the bay was covered with fragments of the wreck, with shattered canoes, and Indians swimming for their lives, or struggling in the agonies of death; while those who had escaped the danger remained aghast and stupified, or made with frantic panic for the shore. Upwards of a hundred savages were destroyed by the explosion, many more were shockingly mutilated, and for days afterwards the limbs and the bodies of the slain were thrown upon the beach.

The inhabitants of Neweetee were overwhelmed with consternation at this astounding calamity, which had burst upon them in the very moment of triumph. The warriors sat mute and mournful, while the women filled the air with loud lamentations. Their weeping and wailing, however, was suddenly changed into yells of fury at the sight of four unfortunate white men brought captive into the village. They had been driven on shore in one of the ship's boats, and taken at some distance along the coast.

N

The interpreter was permitted to converse with them. They proved to be the four brave fellows who had made such desperate defence from the cabin. The interpreter gathered from them some of the particulars already related. They told him, further, that after they had beaten off the enemy and cleared the ship, Lewis advised that they should slip the cable and endeavour to get to sea. They declined to take his advice, alleging that the wind set too strongly into the bay, and would drive them on shore. They resolved, as soon as it was dark, to put off quietly in the ship's boat, which they would be able to do unperceived, and to coast along back to Astoria. They put their resolution into effect; but Lewis refused to accompany them, being disabled by his wound, hopeless of escape, and determined on a terrible revenge. On the voyage out, he had repeatedly expressed a presentiment that he should die by his own hands, thinking it highly probable that he should be engaged in some contest with the natives; and being resolved, in case of extremity, to commit suicide rather than be made a prisoner. He now declared his intention to remain on board of the ship until daylight, to decoy as many of the savages on board as possible, then to set fire to the powder-magazine, and terminate his life by a signal act of vengeance. How well he succeeded has been shewn. His companions bade him a melancholy adieu, and set off on their precarious expedition. They strove with might and main to get out of the bay, but found it impossible to weather a point of land, and were at length compelled to take shelter in some small cove, where they hoped to remain concealed until the wind should be more favourable. Exhausted by fatigue and watching, they fell into a sound sleep, and in that state were surprised by the savages.

Better had it been for those unfortunate men had they remained with Lewis, and shared his heroic death.

As

it was, they perished in a more painful and protracted manner, being sacrificed by the natives to the manes of their friends with all the lingering tortures of savage cruelty. Some time after their death, the interpreter, who had remained a kind of prisoner at large, effected his escape, and brought the tragical tidings to Astoria.

Such is the melancholy story of the Tonquin, and such was the fate of her brave but headstrong commander and adventurous crew. It is a catastrophe that shews the importance, in all enterprises of moment, to keep in mind the general instructions of the sagacious heads which devise them.

Mr Astor was well aware of the perils to which ships were exposed on this coast from quarrels with the natives, and from perfidious attempts of the latter to surprise and capture them in unguarded moments. He had repeatedly enjoined it upon Captain Thorn in conversation, and, at parting, in his letter of instructions, to be courteous and kind in his dealings with the savages, but by no means to confide in their apparent friendship, nor to admit more than a few on board of his ship at a time. Had the deportment of Captain Thorn been properly regulated, the insult, so wounding to savage pride, would never have been given; had he enforced the rule to admit but a few at a time, the savages would not have been able to get the mastery. He was too irritable, however, to practise the necessary self-command; and, having been nurtured in a proud contempt of danger, thought it beneath him to manifest any fear of a crew of unarmed savages. Hence the melancholy result.

THE BLUE AND WHITE FLOWER-POT.

My father was seated on the lawn before the house, his straw-hat over his eyes (it was summer), and his book on his lap. Suddenly a beautiful blue and white flowerpot, which had been set on the window-sill of an upper story, fell to the ground with a crash, and the fragments spluttered up round my father's legs.

'Dear, dear!' cried my mother, who was at work in the porch; 'my poor flower-pot that I prized so much! Who could have done this? Primmins, Primmins!'

Mrs Primmins popped her head out of the fatal window, nodded to the summons, and came down in a trice, pale and breathless.

'Oh,' said my mother, mournfully, I would rather have lost all the plants in the greenhouse in the great blight last May; I would rather the best tea-set were broken! The poor geranium I reared myself, and the dear, dear flower-pot which Mr Caxton bought for me my last birthday! that naughty child must have done this!'

Mrs Primmins was dreadfully afraid of my father; why, I know not, except that very talkative social persons are usually afraid of very silent shy ones. She cast a hasty glance at her master, who was beginning to evince signs of attention, and cried promptly: 'No, ma'am, it was not the dear boy, it was I!'

'You; how could you be so careless? and you knew how I prized them both. Oh, Primmins!'

Primmins began to sob.

'Don't tell fibs, nursy,' said a small shrill voice and

I, coming out of the house as bold as brass, continued rapidly, 'don't scold Primmins, mamma; it was I who pushed out the flower-pot.'

'Hush!' said nurse, more frightened than ever, and looking aghast at my father, who had very deliberately taken off his hat, and was regarding the scene with serious eyes, wide awake.

'Hush!

And if he did break it, ma'am, it was quite an accident; he was standing so, and he never meant it. Did you, Master Sisty? Speak!' this in a whisper, 'or pa will be so angry.'

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Well,' said my mother, 'I suppose it was an accident: take care in future, my child. You are sorry, I see,

to have grieved me.

'No, mamma, you

There is a kiss; don't fret.'
must not kiss me; I don't deserve

it. I pushed out the flower-pot on purpose.'

'Ha, and why?' said my father, walking up.

Mrs Primmins trembled like a leaf.

'For fun!' said I, hanging my head; 'just to see how you'd look, papa; and that's the truth of it. Now, beat me-do beat me !'

My father threw his book fifty yards off, stooped down, and caught me to his breast. 'Boy,' he said, 'you have done wrong; you shall repair it by remembering all your life that your father blessed God for giving him a son who spoke truth in spite of fear.'

The box of dominoes was my delight.

'Ah!' said my father, one day when he found me playing with it in the parlour. 'Ah! you like that better than all your playthings, eh?"

'You would be very sorry if your mamma were to