I The BaJdwmn Library
* 4 2
W. H. G. KINGSTON.
GROOMBRIDGE AND SONS.
XB. IIAXPTON RELATING THR STORY TO HIS SON HARRY
A TALE OF
WE cannot boa
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and worthy of being
of the finest of a fin
owner of a beautiful es
a rustic bench in his ga
at his knee, looking up in
"Father," said Harry,
speak about the North Amen
m, though as
ed over the
h its -ettle-
vas a great
1 could turn
by a chain of
to reach the
scribe how we
oughed a field,
all these pre-
ly settled in our
-eed a little about
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
THERE are different tribes. Some are called Crees, others
Ojibways orSalteux, and these are constantly at war with
the Sioux to the south, chiefly found across the United
States boundary. There are also found on the prairies
Assiniboines, Blackfeet, Bloodies, and others with scarcely
more attractive names. All these people were at that time
sunk in the most abject state of heathenism, and were con-
stantly at war with each other. They were clothed chiefly
in skins made into leather, ornamented with feathers
and stained grass and beads. .The tents of the prairie
Indians were of .skins, and those of the Indians who in-
habit the woods of birch bark. Many had rifles, but
others were armed only with bows and spears, and the
dreadful scalping-knife. Of these people the Sioux bore
the worst character, and were the great enemies of the
half-bred population of the settlements. These half-
breds, as they are called, are descended from white
fathers and Indian mothers. There are some thousands
of them in the settlements, and they live chiefly by hunt-
ing and fishing, and retain many Indian customs and
habits of life. Such was the strangely mixed community
among whom we found ourselves.
The autumn was coming on, and the dayswere shorten
ing, but the weather was very fine-sharp frosts at night,
though warm enough, yet bracing, with a bright sky and
pure atmosphere during the day. Sometimes a light
silvery mist or. haze hung over the landscape. Such is
the Indian summer, the most delightful period of the
year in North.America.
THE GRATEFUL IADIAN.
The day's work was over, and while my brother and
I were preparing the table, and Sam Dawes was cooking
the supper, we were startled by a loud and peculiar
shout, or rather shriek. Our father, who had been sitting
reading, started up, and taking his rifle from the wall,
turned to the door. Sam, quitting his frying-pan, also
took down his rifle and followed with us. In the dis-
tance was an Indian decked with war paint and feathers
bounding over the ground towards us, while further off
were five or six more, as if in hot pursuit of the first.
That first fellow is an Ojibway by his adornments,
and a young man by the way he runs," observed Sam.
"He's seeking protection here, that's poz."
"And he shall enjoy it, though we should have to
fight for him," observed my father warmly. We must
teach the Red men that we always protect those in dis-
The fugitive came on at great speed. He was flying
for his life. His pursuers, however, were gaining on
him. They had fire-arms in their hands, but did not use
They have exhausted their powder," observed my
father. That is fortunate."
The young Indian was within fifty yards of us. We
could see the gleam of the scalping knives which his
foes had drawn, thirsting for his blood. He bounded on
up to the door of the hut and fell exhausted within.
Then for the first time his pursuers perceived that we
stood armed at the entrance. Guessing truly that we
possessed plenty of ammunition, and two or more of their
number might fall if they attempted to advance, they
paused, casting glances of disappointed vengeance ir
wards their victim, who lay unconscious behind us. ur
"TUE;. FTGIIV CAEO T RA PED EWS LIGFE I F.
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
father told Malcolm and me to take him in and to try
and revive him. We did so, and when we had moistened
his lips with water he quickly revived. Springing up
he seized Malcolm's gun and hurried to the door. The
other Indians had not moved. On seeing him, however,
they instantly darted behind some trunks of trees for
shelter, and then we saw them darting away till they got
beyond range of our fire-arms. The young Indian would
have followed, but my father restrained him, and gave
him to understand that though he had saved his life he
had no intention of allowing him to take the lives of
others. Darkness was coming on, and we soon lost sight
of the band. Having closed our door with more than
usual care, we placed food before our guest, of which he
eagerly partook, and then told us that his name was
Sigenok; that he with others of his tribe had been out
hunting, and had been surprised by a war party of Sioux,
who had taken the scalps of all the rest. He had
wandered away unarmed from the camp when he saw
all his companions killed. To revenge them, which the
Indian thought was his first duty, was then impossible,
so he took to flight, hoping to retaliate on another occa-
sion. His wary foes, however, discovered his trail and
followed. He had caught sight of them when they were
not aware of it, and redoubled his speed, making for the
settlements. He gave us to understand that he could
not have continued his flight many more hours, and that
he was very grateful to us for preserving his life. We
had brought a dog from England, and we had lately got
another, both very sagacious animals, and so we stationed
them outside the hut at a little distance to give us due
notice should the Sioux return.
Sigenok, as soon as he had satisfied his hunger, prov-
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
ing his confidence in us, laid himself doivn in a corner
of the room and was immediately fast asleep. He spent
two days with us to recover his strength, which had been
greatly tried, and then set off to carry to his tribe the
sad tidings of the loss of their friends. For an Indian
he was a good-looking young man, and decked with his
war paint and feathers he had a picturesquely savage
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
THE winter came-we did not feel the cold so much as
we expected-it passed on and spring approached. We
were looking forward to the pleasures of summer and to
a buffalo hunt which we had promised ourselves, when,
after finding the heat unusually great at night, on rising
m the morning, loud cracks in the ice were heard, and
we discovered that a thaw had commenced. We were
surprised at the rapidity with which the snow melted,
and the low shrubs and the green grass appeared, and
long dormant Nature seemed to be waking up to life.
" How jolly," exclaimed Malcolm; we shall soon be able
to paddle about in our canoe; we may as well have a
look at her to see that she is in order."
We had a supply of gum with which to cover up the
seams as the Indians do, and our canoe was soon fit for
"We must look to the plough and our spades," re-
marked our father; we shall speedily be able to get in
Perhaps Sam Dawes thought more of his fishing
lines and nets and guns.
The next day an Indian coming up from the lake
told us that there was an extraordinary accumulation of
ice at the mouth of the river, which had begun to
swell, with an impetuous torrent, carrying va9t masses
along with it. Speedily it rose higher and higher, the
waters came up the bank and then filled the narrow
gully which usually discharged water into it after rain,
but now carried its waters backward into the plain.
"It will soon subside," observed our father. "That
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
oerrent will soon carry away the barriers at the mouth."
So we all went as usual to bed.
The next morning when we looked out we were on an
island. The water covered our field and the greater
part of the garden round the house. Between us and
the house of the nearest settler to the south was one
sheet of water, while to the north not an habitation was
visible. We made out at the distance of a mile our
neighbour and his family crossing in a large boat to the
hills on the east. We may possibly have to follow his
example," observed our father; "but I hope that the
waters may decrease before that becomes necessary."
The sheep and cows were now collecting of their own
accord in the garden, and we had to drive up the pigs,
whose stye was threatened with submersion. The scene
was truly one of desolation as we looked beyond our
own homestead; trunks of trees and palings, and now
and then a haystack, and barns, and parts of houses,
and occasionally whole dwellings came floating by, show-
ing what ravages the flood must have committed above
us. Malcolm and I agreed that it was fortunate we had
repaired our canoe. As the waters extended, the current
in the river was less strong. Our father observed this.
" My sons," he said, freight your canoe with the tent
and some provisions, and take this case of books, and go
off to the hills. Should the waters increase return for
Sam and me ; we must remain to look after the cattle.
Mounted on our horses we shall be able to drive them to
yonder rising ground on the south-west."
He pointed to a slight elevation, between which
and us he considered that the water was not more than
one foot and a-half deep. Accustomed to obey without
question, Malcolm and I, having loaded our canoe with
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
as many valuables as she could possibly carry, prepared
to cross to the eastern hills, hoping that our father and
Sam would start at once with the cattle towards the
more remote but seemingly more accessible ground to
the west. Just as we were shoving off he remarked-
The water has not risen lately; we may still avoid
a remove. Heaven prosper you, my dear boys."
We hoped that his words would prove true-the sky
was bright, the water smooth, and it was difficult to be.
lieve that there was any danger. Malcolm and I were
expert with the use of the paddle, but in crossing the
river we were swept down some way, and narrowly
escaped staving in the canoe against stumps of trees
or palings and remnants of buildings. We persevered,
however, and at length reached the eastern hills, or the
mountains as they were called. Here we found our
neighbour and several other families encamped. He
told us that he had driven his cattle off on the first day,
and wished that we had done the same. The waters did
not appear to be rising, though we looked with anxiety
towards our home; but it was too small a speck to be
visible among the wide expanse of waters at the distance
we were from it. We had put up our tent and were in-
tending to occupy it, when we recollected that there were
several of the other settlers' wives and daughters with-
out so good a covering, so we went, and begged them
to occupy it, while we slept under our canoe.
The night was bright and starlight, but we could not
sleep much for thinking of our father and Sam Dawes.
We resolved as early as we could see in the morning to
go back to them. We were awoke early in the morning
by a peculiar murmuring and hollow sound. As soon as
it was daylight we looked out over the flooded country.
THE ?.ATEFUL INDIAN.
We asked others if they had heard the noise. They
replied that they had, and that it was caused by the
water rushing over the land. "Then the flood must
have increased," exclaimed Malcolm and I with anxiety.
No doubt about it, boys," was the unsatisfactory
We were for starting off immediately, but one of the
farmer's wives, to whom we had given up our tent, in-
sisted on preparing some breakfast for us, and in putting
a supply of food into our canoe.
It is a long voyage, my boys, and you do not know
what you may require before you return," she observed.
We paddled on very anxiously. We had only the
line of eastern hills we were leaving and some high land
to the south to guide us, but we thought that we could
not help hitting upon the spot where our abode stood.
For a long way we paddled on easily enough, only
taking care not to run against stumps of trees, and as
we got nearer the settlement, stakes or ruined buildings
were our chief danger. Too many evidences met us on
either side that the water had increased considerably
since the previous day. In vain our eyes ranged around,
in no direction was our cottage visible. We must have
mistaken the locality. The current was here very
strong, we thought that we might have drifted down
further than we had calculated on doing. We went
further west, and then steered south, where the current
was less strong. After going some way, Malcolm
stopped paddling suddenly, and exclaimed-
"Look, Harry! look there! Do you know that
"Its head is very like one that grows close to the
house," I answered.
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
We had both mechanically turned the head of the
canoe in the direction in which he pointed. We had
been engaged in fastening a flag-staff to the tree near our
house. A minute would decide whether this was it.
Our hearts sank within us, our paddles almost dropped
from our hands, when we perceived among the bare
branches the rope and the pole which we had been about
to erect. Where was our cottage ? where our kind
father and the faithful Sam ? Not a vestige of the cot-
tage remained, it had too evidently been carried away
by the flood.
Had they been able to escape with the cattle ?" was
the question we asked each other. We hoped they
might; but still it was too possible that our father
would have persisted in remaining in the house, as a
sailor will by his ship, to the last, and Sam, we knew,
would never have deserted him. We could just distin-
guish the heads of some strong palings above the water,
marking the position of our cottage. We made fast to
the tree for a few minutes to rest and recover ourselves,
and to consider what course to pursue. We naturally
turned our eyes towards the rising ground in the south-
west, to which our father intended to drive the cattle.
It seemed a long, long way off, still we determined to
attempt to reach it. We felt thankful that the farmer's
wife had supplied us with provisions, though we were
too anxious just then to be hungry. We left the tree
and paddled on, bat it was very hard work, for there
was a current against us setting towards Lake Winni-
peg; but the canoe was light, and as there was, no wind
we managed to stem it. Hitherto the sky had been
bright, and there had been a perfect calm, but as we
paddled on we saw clouds rising above the high ground
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
for which we were steering. They rose, and rose, and
then rushed across the sky with fearful rapidity, and the
water ahead of us, hitherto bright and clear, seemed
turned into a mass of foam, which came sweeping up
We cannot face it," exclaimed Malcolm. Quick,
quick, about with the canoe, we must run before it."
We were hardly in time. The blast very nearly upset
the canoe, and we had to throw our whole weight over
on the side the wind struck her, to prevent this, as she
spun round like a top, and away we flew before it. All
we could do was to keep the canoe before the wind, and to
steer her clear of logs of wood or stumps of trees, against
which she might have been cast and knocked to pieces.
"But where are we going?" we asked ourselves.
"If we continue thus, we may be driven into Lake
Winnipeg, and hurled among the masses of ice which
are dashing about on its waters."
We thought still more about our father and Sam.
How disappointed they would be, should they have
reached the dry land when the storm came on, and they
knew that we could not get to them. But our attention,
I must own, was soon concentrated on our own situation.
The rain fell in torrents, sufficient of itself almost to
swamp our light canoe, while the thunder roared and the
lightning darted from the sky, filling my heart, at all
events, with terror. I felt both awe-struck and alarmed,
and could scarcely recover myself sufficiently to help
Malcolm. He was far less moved, and continued guiding
the canoe with his former calmness. At last I could
not help crying out-
Oh, Malcolm, how is it that you cannot see our
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
"I do, Harry, clearly," he answered gravely; "but
we are in the performance of our duty, and God will
take care of us."
.His words and tone made an impression on me which
I have never forgotten. When dangers have surrounded
me, I have asked myself, "Am I engaged in the per-
formance of my duty ? then why need I fear, God will
protect me. He always has protected me." The grand-
est receipt for enabling a person to be truly brave, is
that he must ever walk on in the strict line of duty.
We were driving northward at a fearful rate, for the
rapidity of the current was greatly increased by the
wind. We wished that we could get back to our oak
tree, as we might make fast to its branches, but it was
nowhere visible. To have paddled against the gale
would have only exhausted our strength to no purpose.
As Malcolmr found that he could guide the canoe with-
out me, he told me to bail out the water. As I turned
round to do so, I shouted with joy, for I thought I saw
a large boat under full sail coming down towards us.
On it came, much faster than we were driving; but as it
drew near, it looked less and less like a boat, till to my
bitter disappointment I discovered that it was a large
hay-stack which had been floated bodily ,away. At
length just before us appeared a clump of trees, and we
hoped that the ground on which they stood might be out
of water. Malcolm steered towards the spot. We might
remain there till the storm was over. The trees bent
with the wind, and it appeared as if they could not pos-
sibly stand. We approached the spot perhaps with less
caution than we had before employed. Suddenly the
canoe spun round, a large rent appeared in her bows,
over she went, and we -vere thrown struggling into the
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
water. Before we could regain the canoe she had
floated far away, and not without a severe struggle did
we succeed in reaching the land. We climbed up by
some bushes, and found ourselves on the summit of a
little knoll rising out of the water, and not comprising
more than fifty square yards. Our first impulse was to
look out to see what had liecome of our canoe, and we
stood watching it with a bewildered gaze as it floated
away half filled with water. It was not till it had dis-
appeared in the distance that we remembered it had
contained all our provisions. That was bad enough, but
we had never experienced hunger, and did not know how
long we might exist without food. What appeared then
worse was, that the waters were rising round our island.
and we might soon have no dry spot on which to rest
our feet. We might climb up into the trees, but we had
seen other trees washed away, and such might be the
fate of these ourlast refuge. The day wore on, the storm
ceased, and the weather again became calm and beau-
tiful. I now grew excessively hungry, and cried very
much, and felt more wretched than I had ever done be-
fore. Malcolm, who bore up wonderfully, tried to com-
fort me, and suggested that we should hunt about for
roots or underground nuts such as we had seen the In-
dians eat. We fortunately had our pocket knives, and
with these we dug in all directions, till we came upon
some roots which looked tempting, but then we remem-
bered that we had no means of kindling a fire to cook
them, nor could we tell whether they were poisonous or
not. The hunt had given us occupation, and prevented
us for a time from dwelling on our misfortunes
We then tried every device we could think of to
kindle a fire, for we wished to dry our clothes, if we
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
could not cook our roots. None of our attempts sue-
ceeded, and Malcolm suggested that we should run
round and round our island to try and warm ourselves
before night came on. At last I felt very sleepy, and so
did Malcolm, but he said that he would let me sleep
first while he watched, lest the waters should rise and
carry us away before we had time to climb up a tree.
I lay down and was asleep in a minute, and when I
awoke the stars were shining out brightly through the
branches of the trees, the young grass blades reflecting
them on their shining surfaces, while I saw my good
brother still walking up and down keeping guard over
me. The noise of the rushing waters sounded in my
ears and made me desire to go to sleep again, but I
aroused myself, ashamed that I had slept so long, and
urged my brother to lie down.
S "No, Harry," he answered, I wished you to get as
much rest as possible; but look there, we shall soon be
obliged to climb a tree for refuge."
Walking a few paces, I found that the water had
greatly encroached on our island; a southerly wind
had begun to blow, which sent large waves rolling in
Should the wind increase, they will completely
sweep over where we stand," I exclaimed. Oh, Mal-
colm, what shall we do ?"
"Trust in God," he replied calmly. "From how
many dangers has He not already preserved us. But
remember, our father has often told us that it is our
business while praying to God for help, to exert our-
selves, and so let us at once try and find a tree we can
climb quickly in case of necessity, and whose boughs
will afford us a resting-place."
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
I loved Malcolm dearly. I admired him now more
than ever, and was ready to do whatever he wished.
We soon found a tree up which we could help each
other. The wind howled and whistled through the
trees, the waves lashed the shore furiously, and Malcolm
had just time to shove me up the tree, when one larger
than the rest swept completely over the ground on
which we had been standing, with a force sufficient to
have carried us off with it. We had seated ourselves
among the branches, which waved to and fro in the
wind, and as we looked down, we saw the water foaming
round the trunk, and often it seemed as if it must be
uprooted and sent drifting down with the current.
Malcolm said that he felt very sleepy, and told me
that if I would undertake to hold him on, he would rest
for a few minutes. I gladly promised that I would do
as he wished, but asked him how he could think of
sleeping while the tempest was raging round us.
"Why, Harry, we are as safe up here as on the
ground," he answered, in his usual sweet tone of voice,
" God is still watching over us !"
I need scarcely say how tightly I held on to his
clothes, trembling lest he should fall. I felt no incli-
nation to go to sleep, indeed I soon found that I must
have slept the greater part of the night, for before Mal-
colm again opened his eyes, I observed the bright streaks
of dawn appearing over the distant hills in the east.
Daylight quickly came on. It was again perfectly calm,
and on looking down, we could see the blades of grass
rising above the water. Malcolm woke up, saying that
he felt much better. Looking down below us, he said
that he thought the water had decreased since he went
to sleep. He might have been right, J coal.i not te!l.
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
At that moment there was only one thing I thought of,
the pain I was suffering from hunger. I shall die! I
shall die !" I exclaimed. Malcolm cheered me up.
Help will come though we cannot now see how,"
he observed; God will protect us. Trust in Him."
Still I felt that I should die. It is very difficult to
sustain gnawing hunger, such as I then felt for the first
time. I have no doubt that Malcolm felt the same, but
he was too brave to show it. Hour after hour passed
by; the water did not appear to be rising; the blades of
grass were still seen below us round the tree. I how-
ever felt that I could not endure many more hours of
suffering. "I must fall, indeed I must," I cried out
over and over again. I should indeed have let go my
hold, had not my brave brother kept me up. Even he
at last showed signs of giving way, and spoke less en-
couragingly than before. He was silent for some time:
I saw him looking out eagerly, when he exclaimed-
Cheer up, Harry, there is a canoe approaching; it
will bring us help."
I gazed in the direction towards which he pointed.
At first I could only see a speck on the water: It
grew larger and more distinct, till I could see that it
was certainly a canoe. Then we discovered that there
were two Indians in it. We shouted, but our voices
sounded shrill and weak. The Indians heard us, for
they waved their paddles and turned the head of the
canoe towards the clump of trees. The canoe could not
get under the tree, but one of the Indians jumped out,
and Malcolm told me to slide down. The Indian caught
me and carried me in his arms to the canoe, for I was
too weak to walk. Malcolm followed, and the Indian
helped him along also. It was not till we had been
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
placed in the canoe that we recognized in our preserver
the young Indian, Sigenok, whose life we had saved. We
pronounced his name. He gave a well-satisfied smile.
Ah, you have not forgotten me, nor I you," he said
in his own language. Favours conferred bind gene-
rous hearts together. Sigenok guessed that you were
in distress. Your elder brother has long been looking
It appeared that Sigenok had been at a distance
hunting when the flood commenced; that he had hast-
ened back, and soon perceiving from the height the
water had attained that our house was in danger, had
embarked in his canoe and hastened toward it, but on
his nearing the spot found that it had been swept away.
Guessing that we had escaped to the eastern hills, he
paddled there, when our friends told him that we had
proceeded in search of our father and servant. Having
ascertained the exact time of our departure, with the
wonderful powers of calculation possessed by Red men,
he had decided the events which had occurred and the
course we had pursued, and was thus able to look for us
in the right direction. Had he not found us there, he
would have visited other places which he mentioned,
where we might have taken refuge. As he was leaving
the hills the farmer's wife had given him a supply of
food for us, and on his producing it our hunger was soon
satisfied. We now told him of our anxiety about our
father and Sam Dawes. He listened attentively, and
then shook his head.
They and the cattle never reached the hills," he
observed. "We will search for them. There are still
some hours of daylight. If the house has held together,
they will be found much further down than this."
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
I fancied by the Indian's manner that his hopes were
slight. We now shoved off from the little island which
had afforded us so valuable a refuge, and Sigenok and
his companion paddled off at a rapid rate to the north.
Anxious as I was, I soon fell asleep, and so I believe did
Malcolm for a short time. I was aroused by a shout
from Sigenok. I lifted up my head and saw a dark
object in the distance rising above the water.
"It is our house !" exclaimed Malcolm, "Sigenok
says so. Oh, that our father may be there !"
"We kept our eyes anxiously fixed on the distant ob-
ject. It was growing dusk. Malcolm said that he saw
something moving on it.
"Man thete, alive !" observed Sigenok.
Our hopes were raised; but he spoke only of one
man. How long the time appeared occupied in reach-
ing the spot! Even through the gloom we could now
distinguish the outline of our log hut, which had grounded
on a bank among some strong fences and brushwood,
and was now fixed securely, partly tilted over.
"Who is there? who is there?" we shouted.
"Father, father! we are Malcolm and Harry !"
"Woe's me, young masters, your father is not here,"
said a voice which, hollow and husky as it was, we r-
cognized as that of Sam Dawes. We were soon up to
our hut, to the roof of which Sam was clinging. The
Indians lifted him into the canoe, for he had scarcely
strength to help himself.
"But our father, Sam! our father !" we exclaimed.
"Where is he ? what has happened ?"
He no speak till he eat," observed Sigenok, after
he had secured the canoe to the hut.
We took the hint, and gave him some food. In a
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
north time he revived, and told us that our father, after
"we went away, would not believe that the water would
rise higher, and that they had retired to rest as usual,
when they were awoke by the sound of the water rush-
ing round the house; that they both ran out and mounted
their horses to drive off the cattle, as had been arranged.
Our father took the lead, urging on before him the cows
and horses, while he followed with the sheep, when his
horse fell and he was thrown into a deep hole. As he
scrambled out, the current took him off'his legs. He was
nearly drowned, but after floundering about for some
time, he found himself carried up against the hut. He
immediately climbed to the roof and shouted as loud as he
could in the hopes of recalling our father, but there was
no answer. Again and again he shouted. He tried to
pierce the gloom which still hung over the land, though
it was nearly morning. He felt a wish to leap off and
try and follow his master, but what had become of his
horse he could not ascertain. The waters were increas-
ing round the cottage. He felt it shake violently, when,
to his horror, it lifted and floated bodily away. The
logs had been put together in a peculiar manner, dove-
tailed into each other, which accounted for this. He
told us how forlorn and miserable he felt, without another
human being in sight, believing that his master was lost,
uncertain as to our fate, and that he himself was hurry-
ing to destruction. More than once he felt inclined to
drop off the roof, but love of life, or rather a sense of the
wickedness of so doing, prevailed, and he clung on till
the hut grounded where we found it.
We were now in as secure a place as any we could
find in the neighbourhood, and so Sigenok proposed
seeking some necessary rest before continuing our search.
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
We proposed going into the house to sleep, but we found
that our bed-places had been carried away, and so, of
course, had every particle of furniture, as the bottom of
the hut had literally come out. We therefore returned
to the canoe to sleep. At early dawn we once more
paddled south. There was little current and a perfect
calm. The waters, too, were subsiding, for several slight
elevations, before submerged, were now visible. After
paddling for many hours, we reached the south-western
hills I have before described. Several settlers were there,
but no one had seen our father. We crossed back to the
eastern hills before night-fall. There were no tidings of
him there. The flood subsided, and we, like others, set
off to return to the now desolate site of our former abode.
Sigenok conveyed us in his canoe, and we pitched our
tent on the very spot our hut had occupied. In vain we
searched for our father, in vain we made inquiries of
other settlers, no one had seen him. Day after day we
waited, thinking that he might have been swept down-
ward with the flood clinging to a piece of timber or some
other floating body, and that he might as yet be unable
to return. Sam Dawes looked more and more sad when
we spoke of his return. Sigenok, who had remained by us,
shook his head. He gone, no come back," he observed.
Our hearts sank within us as the sad truth forced
itself on our minds that we were orphans.
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
LONG we continued to hope against hope. Neither was
our father's body, nor were any of the cattle he was
driving off ever discovered. The current must have
swept them down into Lake Winnipeg.
"I aint much of a person for it, young masters,"
said Sam Dawes, taking a hand of each of us and look-
ing at us affectionately, "but I loves ye as sons, and I'll
be in the place of a father, that I will."
Faithfully did Sam Dawes keep his word.
Grief is right and does us good in the end, depend
on't, or it wouldn't be sent; but it mustn't make us forget
duty. Now you see it is our duty to live, and we can't
live without food, and we can't get food without we work,
so let's turn to and plough and sow the ground."
This proposal may seem like mockery, but among
the valuables placed by our father in the canoe was a
good supply of seed corn and other seeds, and vwe had
discovered our plough driven deep into the ground. Sige-
nok disappeared the moment he understood our intentions.
and Sam looked very blank, and said that he feared he
did not like work and had gone off.
I think not," observed Malcolm; and he was rigit.
In a few hours Sigenok returned with two horses and
several hides well tanned, and needles, and fibre ior
thread. I thought Sam would have hugged him, he was
so delighted. Without loss of time they set to work and
cut out a set of harness, and, lighting a lamp, seated at
the entrance to our tent, laboured at it the greater part
of the night, Malcolm and I helping as far as we could.
Sam made us go to sleep, but as I looked up they were
still at work, and when I awoke in the morning it was
TIHE GRATEFUL INDIAa.
finished. The horses were a little restive, evidently not
being accustomed to ploughing, but they obeyed Sige-
nok's voicein a wonderful way, though it was necessary
in the first place to teach him what ought to be done.
It is said by some that Indians will not labour. I have
reason to know that they will when they have a sufficient
motive. Sigenok showed this. His motive was grati-
tude t. us, and affection excited by compassion. No
------ .. ..----.=.
whitu man would have laboured harder. When the wheat
and Indian corn was in the ground, he with his horses
helped Sam and us to bring in stuff for fencing and
to put it up. All this time he slept outside our tent,
"under shelter of a simple lean-to of birch bark. Another
tay he disappeared, and we saw him in the evening
"coming up the river towing some timber. He brought a
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
heavy log up on his shoulders. There is part of your
house," he observed, we can get the rest in time."
So we did; we borrowed a large boat, and taking
advantage of a northerly wind, we brought up, piece by
piece, the whole of our hut, which had grounded near
the banks of the river. Our neighbours, in spite of the
value of their time to themselves, came and helped us,
and we very soon had our hut over our heads, though,
excepting the articles we had saved in the canoe, we had
no furniture remaining.
Sigenok live here with you," observed lour Iudian
"Of course; very .glad," we ,anwered, thinking -he
intended to take up his abode in our hut.
We had arranged that morning to go to the For'* to
obtain flour and other articles. We were not without
: moInty, fiw our father had put his desk in the.fcnoe,and
Sinit.%e i..'ii.n.l a sum.of money, considerablefomeur.wats.
On ujr rtin i. from the F.i.t, we found that Sigroi'k had
.ectd close to our door an Indian wigwam. It .as-ery
six.ple of construction. It consisted of about a .daen
'io.g, poles stuck in the ,ground in a circle, asndastened
ztegether at the top so as to make the _figure of a come.
againstt these .poles were placed large slabs of bishlas k.
it comes offthe tree in layers, which, having a tendencyto
regain their circular form, cling round the cone, and are
further secured with bands of fibre. In the centre is the
fire, while the smoke escapes through an opening left in tho
top; some mats on the ground, and some lines stretched
across on which clothes or other articles can be hung up,
form the chief furniture of these wigwams. To these may
be. added a bundle of hides or mats, and an iron pot.
Fort Garry, belonging to the Hidson's Bay pCopmly.
THE GRATEFUL LNDIAN.
We had purchased some bedding at the Fort, and
Sam and Malcolm soon knocked up some rough furni-
ture, which served our purpose. We should often have
been on short commons had not Sam and Sigenok been
expert fishermen, so that we were never without an
ample supply of white-fish, or gold-eyes, or sturgeon.
"This very well," observed Sigenok. "Fish very
*good, but in winter buffalo better."
"Will you help us to go and hunt the buffalo, then ?"
we both exclaimed.
Sigenok nodded; it was what he had proposed to
himself that we should do. Although a wood Indian, he
:had connections among the prairie Indians, and from
living with them had become a good rider and expert
hunter. Sam did not like our going; he was afraid
some accident might happen to us, but he had not the
heart to tell us so. He was to remain at home to take
care of the farm. Sigenok procured two other horses,
one for himself, and another to drag a light cart which
we bought, made entirely of wood. It was laden with
our tent and provisions, and our rifles and powder and
Shot. We felt in high spirits when we were ready4o
start, and wishing Sam an affectionate farewell, set off
to join a large band of hunters proceeding to the plains
There were nearly three hundred men, besides their
wives and children. The greater number were half-
breeds, but there were also a large body of Indians,
among whom we found Sigenok's relatives, who received
us in the most cordial manner, and told us that we
should be their brothers, that our friends should betheir
friends, and our foes their foes. The half-breeds had
nearly five hundred carts, each with a distinguishing
flag; and there must have been even a larger number .of
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
hunters, all mounted. Their tents, or lodges, are formed
of dressed buffalo skins. They are pitched in a large
circle, with the carts outside; and when in a hostile
country, with the animals in the centre, otherwise they
feed outside the circle. They have a captain, and regular
officers under him; and a flag hoisted on a pole in the
centre serves as a signal. When hauled down, it is a
sign that the march is to be continued. When the
whole body was on the move, it reminded us of a caravan
in the East, with the long line of carts winding along
over the plain, and the horsemen galloping about on
either side. For several days we travelled on without
seeing any buffalo, till one day, soon after we had
camped, notice was brought by the scouts that a large
herd were in the neighbourhood. All was now excite-
ment and preparation in the camp. Sigenok called us
early in the mol:rnin-:, and, after a hasty breakfast, in
high spirits we mounted our horses, and accompanied
the band of hunters. We made a wide circuit, so as to
let the wind blow from the buffaloes towards us. I
should tell you that the animal denominated the buffalo
by the North Americans is what is properly called the
bison by naturalists. They roam in vast herds over the
interior of North America, from Mexico as far north as
the large river Saskatchewan and Lake Winnipeg. We
rode on, drawing nearer and nearer, till, as we ascended
a slight elevation, we saw over it on the plain on the
other side a vast herd of big-headed, dark, hairy mon-
sters, more buffaloes than I supposed existed on the
whole continent. They were feeding quietly, as if not
aware of the approach of foes. Our captain, an experi-
enced hunter, rode along the ranks commanding silence,
directing every man to look to his arms, and exhorting
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
the novices not to shoot each other, a danger which
might justly be apprehended. Each hunter now ascer-
tained that his rifle was loaded, and then filled his mouth
with bullets-a ready-at-hand pouch, that he might the
more quickly drop them into his piece. I was afraid of
following this example, for fear of the bullets dropping
down my throat or of my gun bursting. Malcolm and I
kept close to Sigenok. He told us to do what he did, not to
lose sight of him, assuring us that our horses understood
hunting perfectly. Our hearts beat with eagerness. We
had now got near enough, in the opinion of our leader,
to charge. The signal was given, and at headlong speed
the band of huntsmen dashed in among the astonished
animals. The buffaloes fled in all directions, the horse-
men following, firing right and left, and loading again
with extraordinary rapidity, seldom missing; and as
each animal fell, the hunter who had killed it dropped
some article of his dress, or other mark, by which he
might distinguish it. It was the most exciting scene in
which I was ever engaged-the hunters, so lately a
dense and orderly body, were now scattered far and wide
over the plain, many miles apart, in pursuit of the
buffaloes; some terror-stricken, others infuriated to mad-
ness. Sigenok had killed five or six, and Malcolm had
also, much to our gratification, killed one, though I
had not been so successful, from nervousness, I fancy;
when the Indian being at some distance, as we were in full
chase of another buffalo, a huge bull started out from
behind a knoll, and rushed towards us. My brother's
horse started at the unexpected sight, and putting his
foot into a badger hole, stumbled, and threw him over
his head. The faithful animal stood stock still, but on
came the bull. I shrieked out to Malcolm to leap on
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
his horse and fly, but he was stunned, and did not hear
me. The bull was not twenty paces from him; in another
instant he would have been gored to death. I felt thank-
ful that I had not before fired. Raising my rifle to my
shoulder, I pulled the trigger, the huge animal was
within ten paces of him; over it went, then rose on its
knees, and struggled forward. I galloped up to Mal-
colm, who was beginning to recover his senses. With a
strength I did not fancy I possessed I dragged him up,
and helped him on his horse just before the monster fell
ever the spot where he had lain, and would have crushed
him with his weight. By the time Sigenok returned,
the buffalo was dead. He highly praised me when he
"heard what had occurred, but said that we had had
hunting enough that day, and that he would now
summon his people to take possession of the animals we
had killed. The skins are called robes, and are valued
as articles of trade, being taken by the fur traders and
sent to Canada, England, Russia and other parts of the
world. Parts of the flesh of the slain animals was
carried into the camp for immediate consumption, but
the larger portion was prepared forthwith in a curious
way for keeping. The meat is first cut into thin slices
and dried in the sun, and these slices are then pounded
between two stones till the fibres separate. This pounded
meat is then mixed with melted fat, about fifty pounds
of the first to forty pounds of the latter, and while hot
is pressed into buffalo-skin bags, when it forms a hard,
compact mass. It is now called pemmikon, from pemmi,
meat, and kon, fat, in the Cree language. One pound of
this mixture is considered as nutritious as two of
ordinary meat, and it has the advantage of keeping for
years through all temperatures:
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
SOON after the grand hunting-day I have described, our
scout brought word that a party of Sioux were in the
neighbourhood. Our fighting-men attacked them and
killed several. A scalp-dance took place, and other
orgies which I will not describe. I was so horrified with
what I saw, that I agreed with Malcolm that we would
get back to the settlements as soon as we could. We
expressed our wish to Sigenok, and he promised to re-
turn with us on the following day. Malcolm's great wish
was to withdraw Sigenok from his savage companions,
and to induce him to settle down as a civilized man and
a Christian. We talked to him on the subject, but he
replied, that he had been all his life accustomed to hunt-
ing and fighting, and that he could not abandon them.
The next day we set out, leaving the larger body of
Indians still encamped.
We had travelled on for two days, when the belief
being entertained that we had no enemies to fear, there
was less than the usual caution observed by the natives
in our march. We were passing through a sparsely
wooded country, I was in advance with Sigenok, while
Malcolm and several young Indians, whose interest he
wished to excite by descriptions of England and the
wonders of the civilized world, brought up the rear, at
a considerable distance. Suddenly Sigenok stopped, the
crack of a rifle was heard, several others followed.
"The Sioux!" he exclaimed, turning round his horse.
Quick quick our friends are attacked." No other
order was required; keeping close to him we all galloped
back the ;way we had come, getting our rifles ready for
THE Gl'ATrE'L INnAN.
action as we proceeded. A terrible anticipation of mis-
fortune seized me as I thought of Malcolm, and the fate
which might have overtaken him. Still he and his com-
panions might be defending themselves, and we should
be in time to rescue them. My heart sunk when the
firing ceased. I knew that the Sioux would not have
attacked the party unless greatly superior in numbers,,
and I dreaded that all was over, and that having slaugh-
tered their victims they had retired victorious. Sigenok
might have thought the'same, for he sent out scouts on
either side, and advanced with greater caution than be-
fore, though still at a rapid pace. We pulled up at an
open glade. Sad was the sight which met our eyes.
On every side were strewed the bodies of our com-
panions, all denuded of their scalps. I almost fell faint-
ing from my horse. I dreaded to find the .body of my
dear brother among them; still I eagerly hurried on to
ascertain his fate. He was not to be found among the
slain. My hopes slightly revived. He might have
escaped and be concealed somewhere near, or he might
have been carried off as a prisoner. My blood ran cold
when I thought of this latter possibility, for I had heard
of the horrible mode in which the Red men tortured
their prisoners, and I dreaded lest such should be the
lot of my poor brother. The rage and fury of the
Indians at finding that their friends had thus been cut
off was terrific, and their threats of vengeance terrible.
I had hitherto, till this expedition, seen the Red men
only under more favourable aspects. I now perceived
what they could become when excited by passion. Still
the loss of my brother mace me anxious that they should
immediately undertake an expedition which might result
in his recovery. I saw the Indians examining the ground
THB GRATEITU IWNDIA.
round on every side, and they soon pronounced an opi-
nion that the party who had attacked their friends did
not equal them in numbers, and would not have suc-
ceeded had they not lain in ambush and taken them by
surprise. We must have passed close to the Sioax, but
in consequence of the superiority of our numbers they
were afraid to attack us. A council was immediately
held; the principal men spoke, and various plans were
suggested. The result of them was, that it was deter-
mined to form a camp on the spot, while twenty well-
mounted warriors should go in pursuit of the Sioux. I
entreated Sigenok to allow me to accompany him.
" You are young for warfare, but your heart is strong-
you shall go," he answered. No time was to be lost.
It was of great consequence to follow up the foe so
rapidly that they might not be prepared for our ap-
proach. A hurried meal was taken, and each warrior
furnishing himself with a supply of pemmikon for seve-
ral days, we immediately set off. Three men, on foot,
always kept ahead to act as scouts and to feel the way,
while their horses were led by the rest, and when the
first were tired others took their places. The Sioux
must have retreated very rapidly, for two whole days
passed, and though my friends assured me we were on
the right trail, we had not overtaken them. I was al-
most in despair, and began to doubt that, even if
Malcolm was alive, he could be with them. I had just
expressed my fears to Sigenok when one of the scouts
came hurrying back and exhibited a tag-the end of a
boot-lace, such as my brother had worn. This Sigenok
considered a sure sign that Malcolm was with them.
My eagerness, therefore, increased to overtake them,
but (he Indians assured me that great caution was re-
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
quisite, and that instead of going faster, it might be
necessary to go slower. This is often the case I have
since found in other affairs of life. More scouts were
now sent out and still greater caution used. It was the
intention of my companions, if possible, to make the
onslaught on the camp of their foes at night. All
depended, however, on our approach not being sus-
pected. The Sioux, of course, would have scouts out,
and the difficulty was to avoid their meeting ours, or
discovering any traces. At last, just before dusk, one
of our scouts brought in word that they had encamped,
and that we were about two miles from them. It was
suspected, from the way in which they had formed their
camp, they must have thought that they had distanced
us. We had now no longer any doubt about overtaking
them, but the question was as to the best means of making
the attack. The Indians' chief thought was of revenging
themselves for the loss of their relatives, my only desire
was to recover my brother should he still be alive. We
cpntinued to advance till we got within about half a
'mile of the Sioux camp-the hilly nature of the ground
and the woods concealing our approach. Beyond that
we dared not proceed, as the country was so open that
we might easily have been seen had we made the at-
tempt. The band, accordingly, here left their horses
under charge of five of their number, and as soon as it
was dusk they commenced their stealthy approach to the
camp. Sigenok and another young and active Indian
undertook to look after me. Not a word was spoken
after we set out-not a leaf was moved, scarcely a blade
of grass was uselessly pressed down. On they crept
slowly, and so gently that I could scarcely hear the
ootfalls even of my two companions. I imitated their
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
way of walking, and as I had on mocassins I also was
able to avoid making the slightest noise. We had got
within a thousand yards of the camp when we all stop-
ped to listen. The camp was still astir, and there were
sounds of feasting and revelry. The Indians with me
ground their teeth-their enemies, fancying themselves
secure, were about to indulge in a scalp-dance over the
scalps they had taken in the morning. As yet the
scouts had not got near enough to ascertain if my
brother was with them. I entreated Sigenok to let me
go and ascertain. "Not without me," was his answer.
" Bah, we will go." I eagerly and fearlessly pressed
on. We had to crawl along the ground lest our figures
might be perceived, by the sharp eyes of the Sioux,
against the sky. We reached a small stream. The
camp was formed a little way beyond it. We waded
across it, and creeping up, looked over the bank. In the
centre was a fire which, as it blazed up, threw a strange
light on the groups of fierce savages clustering round it.
At a little distance was a figure which attracted all my
attention-it was that of my brother. He was seated
on a log of wood, close to which a stake was driven in,
and to this his wrists were tightly secured, though his
feet were free. His head was bent down; he sat per-
fectly quiet, as if resigned to his fate. By the gestures
of his captors I thought that they were talking about
him, and I feared that they were proposing forthwith
to put him to death. I dared not ask Sigenok what he
thought; the slightest sound might have betrayed us.
Oh how I longed to rush forward and join his fate, what-
ever that might be. I believe that I should have done
so when I saw him lift up his pale countenance, so ex-
pressive of grief and pain, had not Sigenok held me
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
back. He was, I was sure, thinking of me, and how
miserable I should be when he was taken from me, and
I was left alone in the world. Sigenok now made a sign
to me to retreat; keeping close to him as before, I un-
willingly left the spot. We crawled on till we rejoined
our companions. It may seem surprising that the Sioux
should have been so completely off their guard; but this
arose from their despising their foes, the fact being that
the Ojibways are generally very unwarlike, and they,
therefore, believed that they would not venture to follow
them. My companions' plans were soon formed. It was
arranged that the whole party should creep forward as
we had done, and that each man should single out one
of the enemy according to his position, and that at
a signal from Sigenok, the low croak of a frog, all
should fire at the same moment. With the sound of the
first shot the men with the horses were to come gallop-
ing on, as if a fresh party were approaching the scene
of conflict. As, undoubtedly, all the Sioux would not be
killed, some might, otherwise, attempt to rush on their
concealed foes, but, with the fear of falling into the hands
of their enemies, they would now take to flight. My
heart beat quick as we now moved on towards the camp
of our treacherous foes. The night was very dark, and
so noiseless were the movements of the Indians that, till
I actually touched Sigenok's heel, I fancied at one time
That I must be alone. The shouting and shrieking of
the Sioux as they sang their songs of triumph yet farther
assisted us to approach. In another moment the death
volley would be given, and most of those fierce savages
would be laid low. My only wish all the time was to
rush forward and to release my beloved brother. How
breathlessly I waited for the signal! The warriors were
THE GRATEFUL INFdIA
moving about, and Sigenok was not yet satisfied, appa-
rently, with the positions which they had taken up.
Little -did they dream of the danger which threatened
them. Sigenok's object was to wait till the Sioux were
separated as much as possible, so that there should be no
mistake as to which of them should be aimed at by the
warriors of our party. After sitting down for some
time, they all arose with eager and violent gestures;
some went in the direction of the temporary wigwams
they had formed, and others advanced towards Malcolm.
By their looks and gesticulations I had little doubt that
it was with the intention of torturing him. Poor M,:'
eolm lifted up his countenance and gazed with caln
resignation at his approaching tormentors. My knees
trembled for very anxiety. Just then I heard a low
"croak! croak!" Though warned, I believed that it
was really a frog close to me. It was followed by a
click as if caused by the cocking of the rifles. The
Sioux one and all started and looked round. Their quick
ears had detected the sound. There was another low
croak, and at the same instant a rattling volley, and
fourteen savages lay stretched on the grass. The rest
rushed in all directions seeking for shelter, but in their
alarm, scarcely perceiving whence the volley had pro
ceeded, some darted towards the bank of the streak"
where my friends still lay concealed rapidly reloading
Aheir rifles. Scarcely had the smoke cleared off than
I saw through it a savage darting towards Malcolm with
uplifted knife, resolved apparently, before he died, to
plunge it in his bosom. I shrieked out, and sprang
forward to throw myself between them. The savage
saw me, and was about to vent his rage on my head,
but at the moment his gleaming knife was uplifted to
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
strike, a bullet struck him, fired from Sigenok's rif),
and he fell within a foot of me, in vain endeavouring to
reach me with his weapon. I sprang to my brother'c.
side, he was unhurt, my knife was busily employed in
cutting through the thongs which bound him. More
shots were heard as my Ojibway friends caught sight
of their Sioux foes endeavouring to escape. A few of
the latter had, however, got to some distance and were
trying to catch their horses, on which their only hope
of safety now depended. The object of the Ojibways
was, of course, to prevent them, lest they should carry
the news of what had happened to their tribe, who
would, in their turn, send off another war party in pur-
suit of us.
The approach of our horses was now heard. Sigenok
with a dozen other men threw themselves on their backs
almost without stopping them, and galloped off in hot
pursuit of their flying enemies. I stood by the side
of my brother, who was too much bewildered to un-
derstand what had happened. His first words were,
" Harry, dear Harry, tell me is it a dream or a reality.
Am I really free ?"
"Free, Malcolm, I trust," I answered; "though I
might almost ask you the same question; I can scarcely
believe my happiness."
Now I take your hand and hear your voice, I know
that it is true," he said eagerly. And that poor savage
who lies so helpless there, I thought he was going to
kill me; but I have been mercifully protected; I will tell
you all about it by and by. Oh what a dreadful state of
existence is this wild life; we will quit it, and return to
our quiet home and never leave that. I had often read
about savages, and thought them very fine fellows, but
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
little knew what they really are-how bloodthirsty,
cruel, murderous. Let us fly, Harry, let us fly at once.
Do not stay here."
I pacified him after a little time, and persuaded him
to remain till Sigenok returned. "He, though still a
savage, is, at all events, faithful," I observed; he will
not desert us till he has seen us home and safe again
with Sam Dawes. I wish that we could wean him alto-
gether from his mode of life, and induce him to become
a civilized man."
While Malcolm and I were talking, the rest of the
Ojibways had collected, with the exception of those who
had gone in pursuit of the Sioux. The fire had sunk
low, and I was thankful that the darkness prevented us
from watching the horrid task in which they were
engaged-that of scalpinig their fallen foes. The ex-
clamations they uttered while thus employed, showed the
delight they took in the dreadful work. Our brothers
are avenged! our brothers are avenged!" they kept
shouting. Their mothers, and wives, and children will
not mourn alone; there will be grief and wailing also
in the lodges of the Sioux. They will no longer be able
to boast that they are the great warriors of the plains.
We have conquered them; we have slain them; we have
their scalps to show." Nearly an hour thus passed; so
greatly excited all the time were the savages that they
took little notice of us.
At last we heard shouts in the distance, which became
louder and louder, till by the light of the fire, which had
been renewed, we saw Sigenok and his companions ride
into the camp flourishing at the end of their spears the
dreadful trophies of their success. But I should not
have described those scenes at all, were it not to afford
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
you a true picture of savage life, not as it is painted by
romance writers, but as it really is, debased, and wretched,
and hopeless. We soon reached the camp and recom-
menced our return to the settlements as rapidly as we
could push on.
Sigenok told us that the Sioux of whom they had
gone in chase, had nearly effected their escape, but that
'he had come up with them as they were attempting to
pass a broad river, and where, from being in the water,
not hearing the approach of their foes, he and his com-
panions had shot them all down, so that he believed not
one had got off. Still, had one escaped he might prove
as dangerous as many, and therefore it might be safer to
proceed homeward at once. We urged him to do so, and
accordingly without even resting, we at once set out to
return to the camp. We reached it in safety; but I will
not attempt to describe the scenes which took place,
and the savage triumph even of the women; how they
shrieked, and shouted, and danced, and clapped their
hands till they appeared like so many furies rather than
human beings. As a war party of the Sioux would be
able to travel much faster than we could, the household
goods were at once packed, and we set out on our return
homeward. We travelled rapidly, and to guard against
surprise we had scouts m the rear constantly on the
watch for the approach of a foe. The conversation of
the men all the way related to the events of the expe-
dition, and they evidently gloated over the way in which
they had put their enemies to death.
As we proceeded I often turned my head when I
heard any noise behind me, expecting to see the enemy
darting out of a wood, or scouring over the prairie in
chase df us, and at night, while we were encamped, I
THE GRATEFUL RINtAN.
frequently started up under the belief that the Sioux
were upon us.
All our sufferings, and the dangers we have gone
through, and the horrors we have witnessed, have been
owing to our folly," observed Malcolm; had we
remained at home, steadily assisting Sam Dawes to
cultivate the farm, we should have escaped them all.
We will be wiser in future."
THE GRATEFUL. INDIN.
WrITH great satisfaction, and gratitude for the dangers
we had escaped, our eyes once more rested on the silvery
waters of the Red River, as it wound its way through
the rich plains of the settlement, towards the lengthened
expanse of Lake Winnipeg. Malcolm and I, putting
our spurs into our mustangs' flanks, galloped on eager
to announce our arrival to Sam Dawes. He waslabour-
ing by himself, putting up a fence to a new field. He
saw us coming, and, throwing down his axe, hurried
forward to meet us. Never was there a more happy
meeting. He had a great deal to tell us, as we had to
tell him. Gathering up his tools, he walked by our sides
to the hut; a hut though it was no longer, for by his
persevering industry he had converted it into a very
comfortable residence; while he had replaced, though in
a somewhat rough fashion, nearly au tne furniture we had
lost. My brother and I felt ashamed at having deserted
him for so long, while he was labouring for our benefit.
"Well, dear masters, I did ofttimes feel sad and
lonely like while you were away, but now I've got you
back safe all that seems as light as a feather," he
exclaimed, pressing our hands and looking into our
faces with the affection of a parent. He told us that
great changes had taken place in the settlement during
our absence, that a clergyman had settled near us, that
a church was built and a school established, and that
many new colonists had bought land along the banks
of the river for many miles towards the south as well
as to the north of us. The good clergyman had also
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
induced several families of Indians to settle in the
neighbourhood, and that they seemed to have accepted
with joy the glad tidings of salvation which he had been
the means of offering them.
I wish that Sigenok would come and join them
then," exclaimed Malcolm warmly ; so brave and ener-
getic a man would bring many others over to the truth."
The next day Sigenok himself came in to see us.
Malcolm opened the subject of which he had been
speaking. Sigenok listened attentively, and said that
he would go and hear what the missionary had to say.
He did so.
The winter set in, and the river and lake were frozen
over, and the ground was covered with snow, and
sleighs had taken the place of carts, and thick buffalo
skin coats of light dress, and stoves were lighted and
windows closed, and the whole face of Nature seemed
changed. Sigenok came to us. "Ah !" he exclaimed,
" when I knew you first my heart was like the great
prairie when the fire has passed over it, all black and
foul; now it is white like that field of glittering snow
on which we gaze. I am a Christian; I look with
horror on my past life, and things which I considered
before praiseworthy and noble, I now see to be abomi-
nable and vile."
Day after day, in spite of cold and wind and snow,
did Sigenok come up to the missionary's 'house to re-
ceive instruction in the new faith which had brought
such joy to his heart. Many followed in his footsteps,
and there now exists a whole village of Christian Indians
in the settlement who have put away and for ever their
medicine men and their charms, and their false Maniton,
.nd their cruelties and bloodthirstiness, and are wor-
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
shippers of the true God in sincerity and simplicity
of faith. Several of the Indian boys brought up at the
school have obtained a considerable amount of learning,
and some are ordained minister of the gospel, and
others catechists and schoolmasters at various mis-
sionary stations scattered throughout the wide extent of
You may like to hear something more about that
wonderful land, that terra ignota of British Central
America. At the time of which I have been speaking
it was supposed that the only fertile land was to be
found on the banks of the Red River, but it is now
ascertained that an extremely rich and fertile belt ex-
tends from the Red River right across the continent, for
eight hundred miles or more, to the base of the Rocky
Mountains, where it unites with the new province of
Columbia. This fertile belt is capable of supporting
innumerable herds of cattle, flocks of sheep, and droves
of horses, and of giving employment and happy homes
to millions of the human race. It produces wheat and
barley, and oats, and Indian corn, or maize, in great
perfection, and potatoes and variety of other roots and
vegetables of all sorts, and the finest grass for hay, and
hemp and tobacco, and many other plants with diffi-
culty grown in England. The rivers are full of fsh, and
game of all sorts abound. The climate is very uniform
throughout, like that of Upper Canada-warm in summer
and very cold in winter, but dry and healthy in the
When, as I hope the case may be before long,
those lakes and rivers along which we travelled on our
journey from Lake Superior to the Red River are made
navigable for steamers, this country will become the
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
great highway to British Columbia, to China, Japan, and
the wide-spreading shores and isles of the Pacific. With
a line of settlements established across it, the journey
may easily be performed, and some day, Harry, you and
I will run over, and we will pay a visit to the very scenes
which I have been describing to you; but instead of
roving savages, murdering and scalping in every di-
rection, living by hunting and fishing, I hope that we
may find the Indians settled down as Christian men, and
persevering cultivators of the soil which Providence will
compel to yield a rich return for their labour. You will
wish to know more of your uncle Malcolm's and my
proceedings. We soon became acquainted with the
good clergyman I have mentioned, and after a time he
suggested to us that, as our education was far from
perfect, it would be wise if we recommended our studies.
This we did, and though we continued to help Sam
Dawes in his farm labours even more efficiently than
before, so steady was our application when engaged with
our books under our kind tutor, that we made consider-
able progress in our studies. For three years or more
we lived on very happily, with nothing to change our
course of life, when we received notice from England
that a relation of our father's especially wished us to
return. *n consulting our friend the clergy an, he
strongly recommended us to accept the invitation offered
"n. As we expected speedily to return we left Sam
Dawes in charge of the farm, though he was almost
heart-broken at parting from us. He would, indeed.
never have consented to remain had he not believed that
it was for our interest to do so. On reaching England
great was our surprise to find that our relative intended
to leave us his property. On ascertaining our attain
THE GRATEFUL INDIAN.
inents in knowledge, he insisted on our both going to
the university. Your uncle Malcolm took high honours,
and entered into holy orders. I became, as was our
relative, a merchant, and without allowing business to
absorb me, I have considerably increased the small
portion he left me. Your uncle Malcolm and I have
constantly talked of going over to visit Sam Dawes, but
circumstances have prevented us. We long ago made
over the farm to him, and he has greatly increased and
improved it. He is, we hear, a hale old man. And
now, Harry, I have told you a long story enough for
to-day. Some other time I will tell you more about the
wonders of Rupert's Land.
"----"-~-~~-=--~-~- ~ NV
I i I i '
DEPARLTnBE OP LORD CLIPPOR*D PROM BROOI~HAM CASTLR.
"BY Ji L IA ,.N; NEKR.
Author of the Historical Library," etc., ete
IT is now about four hundred years since a great feast
was held at Skipton Castle, to celebrate the birth of
a son and heir to the noble house of De Clifford. The
young lord of the domain had just succeeded to the
title and vast possessions of his father, Thomas Lord
Clifford, who was killed in the battle of St. Albans,
at the beginning of the civil wars between the rival
houses of York and Lancaster, and, by his death, his
only son John, then not much more than twenty years
of age, became lord of the great manor of Skipton in
Yorkshire, and of Brougham Castle, with its wide lands,
in Westmoreland, besides other castles and estates in
different parts of the Northern Counties. A rich and
powerful family were the De Cliffords, descended from
Richard of Kormandy, the uncle of William the
Conqueror. and the first Lord Clifford was the father
TiIE SHEPHERD LORD.
of the lady called Fair Rosamond, who lived in the
reign of King Henry II., and was so beautiful that
it is said in some histories of England that the queen
was jealous of her, and obliged her to take poison;
but this story is now supposed to be untrue, as there
is reason to believe that Fair Rosamond became a nun
and died in a convent. The De Cliffords held the
Barony of Clifford in Herefordshire, and the extensive
manor of Skipton in Yorkshire, when the grandson of.
Rosamond's father married a rich heiress, who brought
him the Barony of Westmoreland, to which Brougham
Castle belonged, and after that other lords of the race
acquired estates by their marriages, so that the wealth
and grandeur of the family had been continually in-
creasing. The wife of the present Lord Clifford, the
beautiful and accomplished Lady Margaret, was the
only child, consequently the heiress of Henry Bromflete
SLord de Vesci, who was also possessed of large estates,
one of which was Londesborough in Yorkshire, so that
Henry, the hero of this tale, was born heir to great
riches and honours, and in his childhood was surrounded
with all the magnificence of a royal prince, for his
father lived in kingly state, and his mother had her
maids of honour, her squires and pages, just like a queen.
It was not long after young Henry's birth that Lord
Clifford removed his family from Skipton to Brougham
Castle, where two more children were born, a boy who
was named Richard, and a girl named Elizabeth. These
children had their separate nurses and attendants, as
was befitting their high station, and Henry's chief
nurse, whose name was Maud, was as fond of him as
if he had been her ow-: child, for he was a very sweet-
tempered, affectionate boy, and he loved her better than
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
any one else in the world, except his parents and his
little brother and sister.
Lord Clifford was now very seldom at home, being
deeply engaged in the wars, but he came sometimes and
stayed for a few days or weeks, as it might be, and on
these occasions Henry, as soon as he was old enough,
used to dine in the Castle half, where not less than a
hundred knights and gentlemen, besides a great number
of pages and domestics of all kinds, sat down to dinner
all together every day, for such was the custom of those
times in great families. The dinner hour was about
noon, or even earlier, when everybody belonging to
the establishment assembled in the hall, where they
took their places at the board according to their rank.
At the upper end was a table raised above the rest on
a dais, for the lord of the castle and his family, with
any guests of distinction that might happen to be
present, and below this was a long oak table extending
from it lengthways down the centre of the hall, in the
middle of which stood an enormous salt-cellar, as a
sort of boundary between such as were of gentle birth
and those of lower degree; the former sitting above,
the latter below the salt. The style of living in those
days would appear very uncivilized to us in this more
refined age, for the dishes were set on the board without
any cloth, and the people ate off wooden or pewter plates,
and used their fingers instead of forks, while many of
the nobles would have their favourite hounds beside
them, and feed them from the table; for, as the floor
was always thickly strewed with rushes, they did not
mind throwing down pieces of meat to their dogs.
However there was always great plenty, and such a
banquet was thought very grand then; and the young
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
Henry de Clifford, as being the eldest son, was treated
with great homage by all his father's dependents.
Often, too, chiefly for his amusement, mummers, jugglers,
and tumblers were allowed to exhibit their performances
in the hall, for he took great delight in such entertain-
ments, and no indulgence, however costly, was thought
too great for De Clifford's heir, whose pleasure was
studied by every member of the numerous household.
It was well for him that his wise and excellent mother
taught him not to be too proud of his exalted rank, or
haughty in his manners to those of humbler grade,
but to be courteous and kind to every one, even to the
lowest menial, so as to gain the good-will of all; and,
as he was a very docile boy, and moreover believed
that nobody in the world was so good or so beautiful
as his own dear mother, he did not fail to profit by
her gentle precepts, and become all that she could
wish. Poor boy! he little dreamed then how greatly
he would stand in need of a humble spirit, or what a
sad reverse of fortune he was destined soon to experi-
His good nurse Maud had left to go to her own
home at Skipton, where she married a shepherd be-
longing to the estate, and after her departure Henry
was much more with his mother, who had begun to
instruct him in such branches of learning as were
considered essential to the education of the young
nobility. She taught him to play on the harp and
other stringed instruments, to recite verses, sing many
of the songs she had herself learned from the minstrels
in her father's halls, and, what was of still more import-
ance, she was about to teach him to read, which was
not a common accomplishment in those days, for there
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
were no printed books in England till some time after.
wards. Printing was then a new invention, and only
practised in Germany at one or two of the principal
towns, so that the only means of learning to read was
from manuscripts written by the monks, generally on
parchment or vellum, and beautifully illuminated with
a border round every page, in brilliant colours inter-
mixed with gold. In every monastery some of the
monks were always employed in making copies of the
manuscripts their libraries contained, and others in
illuminating them; but these written books were so
expensive that none but very rich people could afford
to buy them. Lady Clifford, however, possessed a few
of these valuable works, and was intending that her
son, who was now in his seventh year, should begin
to study them, when a heavy blow fell upon the house
of De Clifford; and the noble youth, who was born to
be a great and wealthy lord, was reduced to the humble
condition of a shepherd's boy.
Henry was very desirous to know something about
"the war that kept his father so much from home, and
Lady Margaret took great pains to explain to him how
it had been occasioned, and why the English people
should all be fighting against each other. She told
him it was the opinion of many persons that the
king, Henry VI., who was then reigning, had no
right to the crown, which belonged properly to the
Duke of York, who had come over from Ireland and
raised an army for the purpose of dethroning the
sovereign, and getting himself made king in his stead.
She also told him that King Henry, though a very
good man, was neither very brave nor very clever, so
that he did not take an active part in the war himself,
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
but trusted everything to his queen, Margaret of Anjon,
a Frenchwoman, whose bold and daring spirit enabled
her to support her husband's cause.
"Bat which do you think is right, mother ?" said
It is a difficult question to answer, my child; your
father takes the part of the king, or rather of the queen,
for the king is now a prisoner in the hands of his
enemies. But the claim of the Duke of ?Erk is not
without foundation, and those who take his part o.
course believe him to be in the right. But it is a sad
thing, my Henry, that a dispute between two princes
should cause so much misery and bloodshed as has
already been occasioned by this unhappy quarrel, and
it may be a long time yet before peace is restored."
Why do they say my father is for Lancaster and
the Red Rose ?"
"Because our king's grandfather, Henry IV., was
Duke of Lancaster before he became king. He gained
the crown by force from his cousin Richard II., and
although the people consented to have him for their
king, and his son Henry V. after him, and now his
grandson Henry VI., it does not prove that he had a
right to take the crown from Richard."
"And who is this Duke of York, mother ? Why
io they think he ought to be the king ?"
To make you understand that, Henry, I must go
back a little further to the reign of Edward III. He,
you know, was the father of that good and brave prince
Edward, whom we call the Black Prince, and who would
have been king if he had not died before his father.
The Black Prince had four younger brothers, but ha
had a son adso, who succeeded to the throne at the
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
death of his grandfather. He was the Richard II.
whose crown was taken from him by the Duke of
Lancaster, his cousin, who is, therefore, considered a
usurper. This Duke of Lancaster was also a grandson
of Edward III., but his father was one of the younger
sons of that king; and the Duke of York, who has
now come forward to claim the crown, and stirred up
all this terrible strife, is a descendant of one of King
Edward's elder sons. Do you understand all this ?"
"Yes, I think I do; but I cannot tell which is in the
right after all."
"No, my dear boy, I dare say you cannot, neither
can I inform you, for there is much to be said on both
sides. I do not pretend to judge between them, I can
only be grieved to see how much sorrow is caused by
the war, and wish that it was ended."
But you have not told me now, mother, why they
say my father is for the Red Rose."
The Red Rose, Henry, is a badge to distinguish the
king's party. The crimson rosette they all wear is
meant to represent a red rose. The friends of the Duke
of York wear a white one, and from these party signs
the war has come to be called the 'War of the Roses.'"
One day, soon after this conversation, it was just be-
fore Christmas, the Lady Margaret, who often entered
into the diversions of her children, was teaching her two
boys to shoot at a target in the gallery above the hall,
with a miniature bow and arrows. Some of her maidens
were present looking on at the sport, and when either of
the boys shot near the mark they clapped their hands in
applause, and exclaimed, In good truth, that was well
aimed, my Lord Henry !" or "Bravely done, my Lord.
Richard! It went within a hair's breadth." And so
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
they went on laughing and playing for a long while, one
or other of the damsels, and sometimes the lady herself,
trying their skill, the two boys being highly delighted
with the sport, when they were suddenly interrupted by
the sound of the warder's horn, and in another moment
the loud, heavy tramp of many horses was heard.
It is my lord returned!" cried Lady Margaret.
Now, heaven be praised. Come with me, Henry, to
the gate to meet your father; and you, Cicely, bring
down Richard. He must not say we are slow to bid
The drawbridge had been let down, the castle gates
flung wide open, and in a few minutes the hall was filled
with a host of soldiers who had returned with their
lord from the wars. The noble chief responded lovingly
to the affectionate greetings of his lady and his boys,
then left the hall with them, whilst the seneschal col-
lected all the chief domestics and their servitors to
make ready a banquet for the unexpected guests. A
sumptuous feast was speedily prepared, and Lord Clifford,
"with the Lady Margaret and his son Henry, dined in
state that day-it was for the last time-in Brougham
The joy occasioned by his return was but short-lived,
,for it was quickly known that he was to depart again on
the morrow, and much news was told to the inmates of
the castle by those who had newly arrived. It appeared
that the whole country was in a dreadful state. The
king had been made prisoner at the last battle, and the
queen was now in the northern counties with her son,
the young prince Edward, endeavouring to raise fresh
forces. These were hard times for the poor country-
people, who suffered greatly from famine, as the soldiers
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
were marching about in all directions, pillaging and do.
stroying wherever they came. Almost every nobleman
in England had joined either one side or the other, and
many men, who would much rather have stayed at home
in peace with their families, to work in the fields, or tend
their flocks and herds, were compelled to take up arms at
the bidding of their lords; but the peasantry in those
days were so dependent on the nobles that every man
was obliged to obey the commands of the lord of the
land whereon he dwelt, for although the lower orders
were not vassals and serfs as they used to be in earlier
times, still they were not so free as they are now. Lord
Clifford had come home chiefly for the purpose of leaving
some of his trusty followers to defend the castle in case
it should be attacked, which he thought probable, and
as he had taken away all the fighting men, there had
latterly been none left in the castle but such as were too
old or infirm to do much service. He therefore appointed
a sufficient number to remain as a guard, then prepared
to bid adieu once more to his wife and children. Lord
Clifford was fierce and cruel in the wars, but he was
fondly attached to his own family, and it was perhaps in
some measure owing to his strong feelings with regard
to domestic ties, united with a natural ferocity of dis-
position, that made him so unsparing towards his ene-
mies as to obtain the name of "the butcher," by which
he is distinguished in history to this very day; for when
his father fell at the battle of St. Albans, he made a vow
that he would revenge his death by never showing mercy
to a partizan of the house of York, and he kept that vow
but too well, as you will presently hear.
The gentle Lady Margaret watched, w ith a saddened
"-lart and tearful eyes, the hurried preparations for her
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
husband's departure, while Henry and Richard stood
near him, gazing with childish admiration on his stately
form arrayed in armour of polished steel, over which he
wore a tabard, or short coat of crimson velvet, richly
embroidered with gold, and under its wide open sleeves
the shining armour looked very splendid. His helmet
was adorned with a plume of feathers, and as he was a
tall, handsome man, no doubt he looked very magnificent
in the eyes of his children. It was the last time they
ever saw him.
Brougham Castle stood on the bank of a narrow
river, and its principal entrance was an arched gateway
opening to the riverside. The drawbridge had been
let down, and some of the horsemen had already passed
over, and wore waiting on the opposite bank for their
leader, who still lingered to say a few more parting words
to the beloved ones he was leaving behind. The little
baby girl was brought to him for a last kiss, then he
took Richard in his arms, and kissed him too, and
stroking the glossy curls of Henry's light brown hair,
"I wish you were a few years older, my son,
that you might go with me to fight for your king and
"I thank God that he is not old enough," returned
Lady Margaret; "it is grief enough for me to part with
my husband. Oh! that these cruel wars were over, for
they bring nothing but sorrow to the land !"
"Thou hast bat a faint heart, my Margaret. Our
queen is a lioness compared with thee !"
"I would not wish to resemble her then," said the
"Nor would I desire that thou shouldst," replied
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
her husband. "But keep up a brave spirit, for thou
mayest need it."
Again he embraced her lovingly, and mounting his
gallant charger he rode from the castle gate, with about
fifty knights and esquires in his train, all well armed
The first news that reached Brougham, was a cause
of the deepest sorrow to Lady Margaret, although it
told of a great battle that had been won by her hus-
band's party at Wakefield, and also of the death of
Richard, Duke of York, who had fallen on the field.
But it also told of a barbarous deed done by Lord
Clifford, which she was sure would turn all hearts
against him; and so it did, for it shocked both friends
and foes, and has left a blot on his name that will never
It was after the battle was over, as he was riding
towards the town to rejoin the queen, that he overtook
the young Earl of Rutland, second son of the unfor-
tunate Duke of York, a youth about fourteen years of
age, who had just heard of his father's-fate, and, over-
whelmed with grief, was being hurried away by his tutor,
Sir Robert Aspall, who had been left in charge of him
near the field of battle, to seek refuge in a neighboring
convent. Clifford seized the affrighted boy, who fell on
his knees and begged for mercy.
Who is he F" demanded the fierce nobleman in a
He is the son of a prince who is now beyond thy
power," answered the venerable tutor. "But I pray
you to spare him, for he is too young to do hurt to thee
or thy cause."
He is a son of York, and he shall die !" exclaimed
THE SHEPHERD) LORD.
Lord Clifford, plunging his dagger into the heart of the
hapless boy, who fell dead at his feet.
It was in consequence of this wanton act of cruelty,
and of the numbers he slew at the battle of Wakefield
with his own hand, that he was thenceforth called the
butcher," a terrible distinction, which will cling to his
memory for ever.
Lady Clifford lamented sadly over the fate of poor
Rutland, for she would have given all the wealth she had
in the world, rather than her lord should have been
guilty of such a wicked deed; and when she looked at
her dear boy Henry, she wondered that the thought of
his own son should not have softened a father's heart,
and prevented him from destroying an innocent youth,
even though he was the son of an enemy.
One day, soon after this news was brought, there
came to the castle one of those wandering minstrels who
were in the habit of going about the country with their
harps, and were sure to find a welcome at the mansions
of the great, where, in return for a night's lodging and
entertainment, they would amuse the company with
their songs and music. Lady Clifford never went down
to the great hall when her lord was away, but confined
herself to her own private apartments with her female
attendants and her children, but she readily gave per-
mission for the domestics to admit the minstrel for their
own amusement, and right glad they were of this in-
dulgence, as they had spent but a dull Christmas.
"May we not go down, dear mother, to hear the
minstrel play and sing?" said Henry.
Yes, you and Richard may go for awhile if you
wish it," replied Lady Margaret; and, sending for the
old seneschal or steward of the castle, she bade him
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
take charge of the boys while they listened to the
harper's songs. There were not many people in the
castle now, but all that were there assembled in the
hall to make merry with the new comer, except Lady
Clifford herself, and the little Lady Elizabeth. The
minstrel sang a long ballad all about the warlike
achievements of the De Cliffords in former times, filling
up the pauses with the animated strains of his harp, and
when the song was done, and the servants were preparing
to dance, the boys returned to their mother, highly
delighted with what they had heard.
The next morning the seneschal came to his mistress
and told her that the minstrel begged for a private
audience, as he had something of importance to com-
municate, "And I think, my lady," said the old man,
"it is about our lord that he wishes to speak, for he
has just come from Wakefield."
Then bring hi- hither, Hubert," said the ady,
"I will hear what Lh hns to say."
Hubert bowed respectfully and withdrew, but soon
returned with the minstrel, who was instantly re-
cognized by Lady Margaret as a faithful retainer of
Lord de Vesci, her father; and seeing by his looks
that what he had to communicate was for her ear only,
she dismissed all who were present, and remained alone
What is it, Rolf," she asked in alarm. "Why
do you come here in disguise ? what of my father ? is
he well ?"
He is well, dear lady. It is not of him I came to
speak. I am just from Wakefield, and I come to warn
you to watch well over your sons, for the friends of
York have sworn, one and all, to take revenge for the
THE SUEPIERD LOID.
death of young Rutland; and I fear me the threat
points towards Lord Clifford's children. You must
not trust them out of the castle, where for the present
they are safe; but if Edward of York should be made
king, and he is more likely to succeed than his father
was, I am afraid there will be no safety for them even
here. I assumed this disguise because if it became
known amongst your enemies that one of your father's
people had come from Wakefield here, they would
suspect it was to put you on your guard."
"Now heaven help me!" said the lady, "how am
I to ward off this misfortune ? I must depend on you,
my good and faithful Rolf, to keep watch, and let me
know should any immediate danger threaten us; and,
in the meanwhile, I will concert some plan for removing
my children in case of need."
This I will do, lady, and as much more as may
lie within my power. In this minstrel's guise I can
visit the camp of the Yorkists fro time to time, and
bring you intelligence of what is jssing there: They
will not know that I am one of your house, and I shall
Lady Margaret was truly grateful to the trusty Rolf,
who departed from the castle that same day; but she
confided to none, except the good old seneschal, what
had been the purport of their conference. Day after
day she waited with ill-concealed dread for further
tidings, and at length a messenger came from her lord,
from whom she learned that more battles had been
fought, that the king was released from prison, but
that the young Duke of York had been proclaimed
king in London, by the title of Edward IV. Soon
afterwards another messenger arrived with news that
TIE SHEPHERD LORD.
King Henry and the queen were again in Yorkshire
collecting more forces, and that King Edward (for
there were now two kings) was advancing northward
with a large army to oppose them. The poor women
and children from the neighboring villages now came
flocking for refuge to Brougham Castle, which was put
into a state of defence, for it was quite certain there
would soon be a great battle, and, if King Edward
should gain the day, there was but little doubt that
the castle would be besieged.
Lord Clifford was now with the king and queen
in the city of York. Their army amounted to sixty
thousand men; and King Edward was coming with
about fifty thousand, so that the conflict was certain
to be a very great and terrible one. It took place
at Towton, on Palm Sunday, just four months after
the battle of Wakefield, and amongst the many thou-
sands slain on that dreadful day was Lord Clifford,
who was then scarcely twenty-six years of age. It is
needless to dwell on the grief occasioned by these
fatal tidings; it was sad to hear and sad to see. The
unhappy lady had now to think of providing for the
safety of her fatherless children, for although Rolf had
promised to bring her word if he saw they were in
danger, there was no certainty of his being able to do
so, as it was possible he might have been killed himself,
for she had not heard of him. At last he came, but
it was again in his adopted character of a minstrel,
and he would have had some difficulty in gaining
admittance, had it not been for the old seneschal, who
guessed his errand, and saw that he was allowed to
enter, saying that, dismal as the times were, it could
be no harm to listen to a minstrel's lay.
THE SHEPHERD LORD.,
With much caution he conducted him secretly to
Lady Clifford's private apartments, for he thought
there might be some hazard in letting it become known
who he was or why he came, as among the many who
were now within the castle walls, who could say that
all were true.
From Rolf's account it appeared that, after the
defeat at Towton, the queen had placed her husband,
who was half imbecile, in a monastery at Edinburgh,
and fled with her son, Prince Edward, to France; while
the new king, Edward IV., had taken full possession
of the throne, and was publicly acknowledged as
sovereign of England. He had declared his intention
of seizing the estates of all those nobles who had
fought against him; and it was reported that he had
said he would revenge the murder of his brother, young
Rutland, on Clifford's heir. Henry's life was therefore
now in danger, and Rolf had come to assist in saving
Have you devised any plan, lady," said the faithful
servant, in case of this extremity ?"
Yes, my good Rolf, I have thought of it day and
night, ever since that fatal battle. I must part from
my boy. I must trust him to you. Do you think you
can convey him, without suspicion, to his nurse Maud,
at Skipton ? I can depend on her to be careful of my
child, and on her husband also; but they must not
remain there, they must remove to Londesborough, and
you must go yourself to my father, who is now there,
and tell him from me to provide them with a dwelling,
but not to notice the boy as his grandson, for Henry
must pass for Maud's own child. Think you, Rolf, that
you can accomplish all this ?"
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
"I will try, my lady; but we must speak of it to
Lord Henry, that he may understand his life depends
on its not being known that he is Lord Clifford's son."
"My Henry is wise beyond his years," replied the
lady, and I fear me not that he will submit to this
necessity without a murmur."
No doubt, no doubt, dear lady; and you had better
prepare him at once, for we know not how soon the
blow may come."
My Henry," said Lady Margaret, you are going
to Skipton, to your good nurse Maud, who will take you
to Londesborough, where you must live with her and her
husband till there is peace again in the land, which we will
both earnestly pray for. And you must remember, my
child, that you are topass for Maud'sown son, and that you
are to call her mother, and her husband, Robin, the shep-
herd, father. I have already explained to you what would
be the terrible consequences should you ever forget this."
I will not forget, mother; but shall I never see you
there ? I love Maud very much, but not as I love you,
my own dear mother!"
And the noble boy threw himself into his mother's
arms, laid his head upon her bosom, and burst into tears.
She kissed him tenderly, and endeavoured to speak
My darling boy, this separation is only for the pre-
sent, and I hope I shall be able to see you sometimes,
for I intend, after awhile, to live at Londesborough,
which is mine, and may some day be yours ; but not yet,
not till our enemies believe that you and your brother
are far away beyond the seas; and even then, when I
come to visit you, Henry, no one must know it except
ourselves and nurse; for if it came to be known that I
THE SHEPHERDD LORD.
felt any interest about the shepherd's boy, the people
might suspect who you are, and that is what we have to
And Richard, mother-is he to go away too ?"
"Yes, Henry, I must part with you both-but your
battle sister I may keep with me; it is not her life they
seek. And now, my beloved child, you understand what
it is you have to do-keep up a brave heart and en-
deavour not to repine at your lot, but be thankful you
have not fallen into the hands of those who would show
you no mercy. But above all, my son, put your trust
in God, and pray to him that happier days may come,
when we can be together again without fear or conceal-
The next day after this conversation, Lady Clifford
left Brougham Castle, with her three children, her maid
Cicely, old Hubert, and a few trusty attendants on whose
fidelity she could rely, but not even to them did she re-
veal her son's destination, which was only known to her
faithful seneschal. The lady, with her maid and the
children, travelled in a litter, a sort of light van shut in
with curtains, which, at that period, when coaches were
unknown, was often used by invalids and those who did
not want to travel on horseback. The litter for one
person was sometimes slung on poles and carried by
men, but a large one, containing more than one traveller,
was usually mounted on wheels and drawn by horses.
It had been arranged that Rolf should meet Lady Clif-
ford's party in a forest, between Brougham Castle and
York, and that he should bring with him a peasant boy's
coarse woollen dress, to disguise Henry for his flight;
vnd oh, how sad were the hearts of the mother and son
when they came in sight of the tall trees of that forest
S -. I
"THE YOUNG LORD WAS NOW TO BE TRANSFORMED INTO THE PEASANT BOY,"
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
where they were to part for they knew not how long !
The path was wide enough to admit of the vehicle, and
they had not gone far when Rolf met them. He was
not in his minstrel's dress, so that the people did not
know him.. He came to the side of the litter, and spoke
in a low tone to the lady, who called one of her atten-
dants, and said to him-
This good man brings me word that it will not be
safc for us to go to York, therefore I shall alter my course
and proceed at once to the sea-coast, and take ship for
the Netherlands. He also thinks that it would be better
we should not all travel together, therefore I shall send
on my eldest son with him and Hubert. He has a con-
veyance waiting close by in the forest, and when I have
seen them off, I will return here. You can, meanwhile,
rest and refresh yourselves, for we have a long day's
journey yet before us."
The men, who were glad of this respite, dismounted,
and began to unpack the provisions with which they
were plentifully provided, whilst the sorrowful lady, lead-
ing her son by the hand, accompanied by Hubert, fol-
lowed Rolf, who led them to a spot quite hidden from
the view of the rest of the party, where a small cart,
such as was used by the villagers in their rural occu-
pations, was really in waiting.
This was indeed a trying moment. The young lord
was now to be transformed into the peasant boy-his
long bright curls were cut off, his face and hands were
stained with a brown liquid to make him look sunburnt,
as if he was used to work in the fields, and his rich
velvet apparel was changed for coarse homespun woollen
cloth. But he cared not what they put him on-his only
thought was that he was going away from his beloved
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
mother, perhaps never to see her more. He clasped his
arms round her neck and clung to her sobbing, as if his
heart would break, and the tears were streaming down
her cheeks too, as she fell on her knees and murmured
a prayer that heaven wcul' watch over and protect her
"My lady-my dear lady," said old Hubert; "yon
must not stay here longer-the sooner this parting is
over the better it will be for you both. Come, my Lord
Henry, it is time we were moving."
So saying he gently disengaged the boy from his
mother's encircling arms and lifted him into the cart,
making a private signal to 3olf to drive away as fast as
he could. He then respectfully entreated his unhappy
lady to return to her party, and she, scarcely conscious
of what she was doing, suffered him to lead her back,
and as soon as he had seen her safely placed in the litter
with Cicely and the two children, he mounted his'horse
and galloped off as if to join Rolf and his young charge,
but in reality to take quite another route, for Henry was
to pass, during this journey, for a poor boy whom Rolf
was taking home to his native village, and it would not
have done for him to be attended by Lady Clifford's
It was well he had been sent away, for just about
this time King Edward caused an act of attainder to be
passed against all the noblemen who had fought for the
cause of Henry VL., that is, they were deprived of their
titles, and their estates were declared forfeited to the
crown; he also issued a command that the children of
the attainted nobles should be sent to London to be dis-
posed of, as he, the king, should think fit; and this was
probably done for the very purpose of getting Clifford's
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
children into his power; for no sooner had Lady Clifford
taken up her abode with her father, the age.c Lord de
Vesci, than she was summoned to London, and closely
questioned as to what had become of her boys. She said
she had sent them out of the country, but as she had
heard nothing of them since, she did not know whether
they were alive or dead, and so the retreat of the high-
born shepherd boy remained unknown. But all the
castles and broad lands that were his by right of in-
heritance were given to the enemies of his family. The
Barony of Westmoreland, with Brougham Castle, was
bestowed by Edward on his brother Richard Duke of
York, afterwards Richard III.; and the great manor of
Shipton was conferred on Sir William Stanley, who, at
a later period, went over to the Lancasterian party him.
self, and you may read in Shakespeare's play of Rich-
ard III.," that it was he who, after the battle of Bos-
worth, where Richard was killed, picked up the crown
and placed it on the victor's head, saying, Long live
Henry VII. !" We shall presently see what this event
had to do with our hero, Henry de Clifford.
LONDESBOROUGH was a beautiful place in the county of
York, about sixteen miles from York city. Lord de
Vesci had other and larger estates, but as his dignity of
baron was limited to male heirs, his daughter could only
inherit two of his possessions, and Londesborough was
one of them, consequently young Henry de Clifford was
its next heir in right of his mother. He knew this, yet
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
Well had his mind been trained by that excellent
parenA at he was content to live in a shepherd's cot
outside its gts with Robin and Maud, whom he soon
became accustome-o call father and mother. As they
had come from Sk;ptoA. anil brought with them two
little children of their own, the people of the hamlet
where they were now settled, did not know but that
Henry was their eldest son, and the little ones were
so young that they were easily taught to believe he was
their brother. He wore a shepherd's frock of gray
serge, fastened round the waist by a leather belt, with
half-boots made of untanned deer-skin; and every
morning he went out with his foster-father to mind
the flocks, taking with him, in a little wallet slung over
his shoulder, his mid-day meal, which he would eat
as he sat on some grassy mound, or by the side of a
rivulet, from which he could fill his horn cup with water.
How different was this from the costly banquet in his
father's hall, where he had servants to attend upon him,
and drank out of a goblet of gold or silver. Yet he did
not repine, but performed his duties with a willing spirit,
and instead of thinking his lot was a hard one, he often
reflected how much worse it would have been if he had
fallen into the hands of his father's foes; still he could
not help feeling melancholy at times, for he longed to
see his dear mother again, and more than two months
had passed, yet she came not. There was no occasion
now to stain his hands and face, for the sun had em.
browned them quite enough, and his long curls had been
suffered to grow again, for Maud said it was a great pity
to cut them off, and she was proud of hearing her neigh-
bours say what nice hair her boy had got, and she would
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
Ay, my goodman tells me I take over much pride
in Henry's curly locks, but he is my eldest, and sure it
is natural for a mother to take pleasure in the beauty of
her child, and, though I say it, he is as pretty a boy, and
as good too, as any in the village."
One evening Henry had brought home the sheep, and
having seen them safe in the fold, was sitting on the
ground outside the cottage door eating his supper. One
arm rested on the neck of a large dog, that was idly
reposing by his side, as if tired with the toils of the
day, for it was the shepherd's dog, and its duty was
to guard the flocks as they were feeding in the fields,
and warn his master if any danger seemed near them.
At length the boy arose and walked slowly towards
the entrance of a fair domain, where he stood gazing
with tearful eyes through a long ,lis-: of tall oaks,
on a noble mansion standing on the summit of a ver-
dant slope, and his young heart was oppressed with
unusual sadness as he looked wistfully on this his right-
ful home. He had stood there for some time when his
foster-father came up and laid his hand kindly on his
Come, my boy, you are giving way to idle regrets.
I do not like to see you here, Henry, for I know your
thoughts are not what they should be."
"I know it is wrong, father, but I cannot help it
Whenever this feeling comes over you, Henry, try
to drive it from you, and think of the past as if it had
been but a dream. A dark prison, my boy, would have
been a worse dwelling-place than a thatched cottage.
Think of that, and be content."
Indeed I am content, father, for you are very kind
THE SHEPHERD LORa.
to me. But when, oh when, do you think my own
dear mother will come ?"
Nay, I cannot tell; but let us hope it will not be
long first. And now, Henry, come home and go to
your bed, for the sun is set, and you must be up be-
times. See, here is Lion coming to meet us. Poor
Lion! he does not like to lose sight of his master."
Henry, who had dried his tears and was smiling
again, sprang forward to caress the faithful dog, who
frolicked round him as if he thought he had been long
away, and was rejoiced at his return. Maud had put
aside her spinning-wheel, for it was nearly dark; the
two younger children were already asleep, and Henry
was about to retire to rest, when the door was opened
softly, and there entered one whose form was muffled
in a long dark cloak, the hood of which was drawn
over the head to conceal the face from view. Robin
and Maud trembled with fear as the idea struck them
both that the boy's retreat had been discovered; but
Henry, with the true instinct of affection, uttered the
word mother!" and rushed into the arms of the
mysterious visitant, who threw off her disguise, and
clasped her boy fondly to her bosom.
"My honoured lady!" exclaimed Maud, as she re-
cognized the beautiful, but pale and careworn counte-
nance of her mistress.
Hush! Maud, hush !" said the lady; are you sure
we are quite safe ?"
"Yes, madam, we are safe," answered Robin,
"there is no one within hearing, and I will fasten the
door, so that none shall enter without giving notice."
And so saying he proceeded to make all secure,
whilst Henry laughed and wept by turns in the excess
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
of his joy, and, amidst kisses and embraces, asked
many questions about his brother and sister.
"I hope they are both well, my darling. Elizabeth
I have seen lately, but I have not heard of Richard
since his arrival in the Low Countries. Nevertheless,
I trust he is safe and well. But how fares it with you,
my best and dearest ? Can you make yourself happy
in this new life ?"
As happy as I can be away from you, dear mother.
I do not mind the sort of life I lead so much as I
thought I should; for I am getting used to it now."
In truth he takes to it bravely, my lady," said
Robin. I only hope my own lad will be as good a
shepherd as Henry, when he is as old."
Lady Margaret sighed deeply, for although the
worthy man did not mean to give her pain, but rather
pleasure, by this rough applause, she could not help
feeling how very low the fortunes of De Clifford's son
had fallen. But she did not make this thought apparent,
she folded him closer to her heart, and whispered words
of encouragement and praise.
You have shown yourself a true hero, Henry, for
nothing is more noble than to bear misfortune nobly,
and this you have done. I am proud of my son, and
should you ever be permitted by Providence to take your
own name again, you will be doubly worthy of it."
And that time will come, my lady," said Maud, fer-
vently, as sure as there are stars in yonder heavens !"
"We will hope so, Maud. And how shall I thank
you for the care you have taken of my treasure ? He looks
well; the bloom of health is on his cheek. I would fain
give yot some token of my gratitude, if I durst do so."
"Better not, my lady," said Robin in his blunt way.
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
"aBesides it is for us, not you, lady, to talk of gratitude,
since we owe all that we possess to your goodness,
Even this cottage we live in, was it not your gift ? It
would be hard, then, if your child should meet with
aught but kindness beneath its roof."
Lady Clifford did not stay long, fearing that her
absence from her own abode might be discovered, and
lead to suspicion; but she said she was going to stay
some time at Londesborough, and should pay a visit
to the cottage whenever she saw an opportunity of
doing so without risk. For a few weeks she often came
At nightfall without attracting the notice of the villagers;
but at length she was obliged to leave Londesborough,
and Henry saw her no more for a very long while. By
degrees, however, he grew reconciled to her absence,
and, as time wore on, the events of his early life were
less distinctly remembered, until he could almost believe
that his former grandeur had never been a reality. He
often thought of his brother, and wondered where he
was, and whether he was living like a peasant too, for
he did not know till long afterwards that poor little
Rippncbs" -l A aom Q+r wQ Qone -u3 of England.
When Henry was about fourteen, the death of his
grandfather, Lord de Vesci, brought new dangers upon
im, for a rumour got spread abroad that he was still
live and in England, and, as he was the rightful heir
to all the estates as well as the honours of the Brom-
fletes, the king's emissaries began to inquire into the
matter, and make search in different parts of the country,
where it was supposed he might be concealed. This
alarming intelligence was first conveyed to his mother
by the faithful Rolf, who, you remember, was one of
the old Lord de Vesci's people, and devotedly attached
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
"to Lady Clifford. But she was not Lady Clifford now,
for she was married to a noble knight named Sir
Lancelot Threlkeld, whose domain was in the moun
tainous part of Cumberland, and was called Threlkeld.
He was a kind-hearted, noble gentleman, and, as he
had not taken an active part in the wars, he had been
left in possession of his lands and dignities, and was
living quietly on his own estate, when he offered his
hand to the widowed Lady Clifford, who consented to
become his wife because she knew he would be a friend
to her dear boy, and they were married soon after the
lady went away from Londesborough.
As soon as they heard that King Edward had
instituted a search for the young heir, Sir Lancelot
proposed to his lady to remove Robin the shepherd,
with all his family, including Henry, from Londes-
borough to the hills of Cumberland, and settle them
as near as possible to Threlkeld.
Robin and Maud had now five children of their own,
who all looked up to Henry as their elder brother, and,
as he was always kind and good-natured amongst them,
treating them exactly as if they had been his brothers
and sisters, they were very fond of him, nor did they
ever suppose he was not the child of their parents. It
was the beautiful summer-time when Sir Lancelot
Threlkeld paid a visit to Londesborough, and sent for
Robin, to whom he told what had happened, and ex-
plained his designs.
"The boy is no longer safe here," he said; "his
life may depend on his immediate removal, but it must
be very cautiously done. I shall tell the people here
that we have increased our flocks at Threlkeld so that
we want more shepherds there, and have fixed on
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
Robin, whose three sons, being active lads, -will be
very useful. What think you of this plan ?"
It is good," replied the shepherd. But you will
see Henry yourself, my noble lord ?" (It was thus
he styled his lady's husband, whose servant he now
deemed himself to be.)
No, I think not," returned the knight; "it would
please me much, but it will be better for him that I
should not seem to think about him at all. There
may be spies on the watch to take note of my move-
ments, and if only the shadow of a suspicion should
be awakened, all would be lost. We should have no
power to save him then. How soon can you be ready
to commence the journey ?"
To-morrow if you will, my lord."
To-morrow let it be then, and may heaven send us
a safe deliverance from this peril !"
"Amen !" responded the peasant, devoutly crossing
himself. It will be a happy day for me, and my dame
too, should we live to see our Henry restored to his
The worthy knight shook his head as he replied,
" I fear me there is but small chance of that. The king
is a young man; he is popular, and has sons to succeed
him, and so long as there is one of the line of York to
hold the sceptre of England, the house of De Clifford
will be under a ban."
Time, with the aid of Providence, works wonders,
True, good Robin, true; but there is not much at
present to encourage such hopes, and I would not have
you speak thus to Henry."
There would be little wisdom, indeed, in that," re-
THE SHEPHERD LORb.
plied Robin smiling. Shall I tell him I have seen you,
my lord ?"
"Yes, surely-and you can tell him, also, why I
thought it prudent to depart without seeing him, for I
would not have him think me careless or unkind."
He then gave Robin money for his journey, and
when all was arranged the good man took his leave, and
Sir Lancelot Threlkeld departed from Londesborough
that same day.
It was joyful news for Henry to hear that he was
going to live so near to his own dear mother again. In
the gladness of his heart he was almost inclined to re-
gard his enemies in the light of friends, since they had
been the cause of this happy change. Maud was very
glad too, for anything that gave pleasure to Henry was
always TO! .ai-L,- to her, besides which she was devotedly
attached to Lady Margaret, and rejoiced in the thought
of being settled in a place where she would see her more
frequently than she had done of late, and as for the chil-
dren, they were almost out of their wits with delight, for
young folks were quite as fond of novelty four hundred
years ago as they are now.
The journey was a long and a rough one, as travellers
of a humble class could not get on very fast in those
days when there were no roads, and it was often a diffi-
cult matter to make their way through forests, or over
wide tracts of waste land where the ground was rugged,
uneven, and covered with brushwood. The vast forests
which then existed in the north of England, have long
since been cleared away, and wild trackless heaths have
been converted into parks, meadows, and corn-fields.
Maud and the two girls rode in a waggon wherein they
had placed some wooden stools, several baskets of pro-
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
vision, and all their clothing, with such other things a,s
they wished to take with them. Robin drove, while
Henry and the other boys took it in turns to ride one at
a time, the rest walking by the side of the clumsy vehicle.
which could only proceed at a foot pace, so that their
progress was but slow. They had taken care to put
plenty of rushes in the waggon, so that some of there.
might sleep comfortably in it at night, while Robin and
the elder lads, as it was summer-time, and warm, dry
weather, could rest under the trees, wrapped in their
shepherd's cloaks. In this manner they proceeded,
sometimes halting at the villages to get a fresh supply
of food and water, until at length they reached their
destination, a small farm in a beautiful and romantic
part of Cumberland, close to the borders of Scotland,
but still within the domain of Sir Lancelot Threlkeld,
which extended far and wide. You may be sure it was
not long before our hero was again clasped to the heart
of his fond mother, who, however, as before, only visited
him in secret and under cover of the night. She was
sometimes accompanied by Sir Lancelot, who was a kind-
hearted man, and had always been well disposed towards
the noble youth whom he delighted to call his son when
they were alone, but at all other times he only noticed
him as one of his shepherds.
Much of Henry's time was spent in solitude, as he
watched his flocks feeding on the mountains, and being
of a meditative disposition, he thought much and deeply
of the beautiful works of the Great Creator that he be-
held around him. Though wholly unlettered, though he
could neither read nor write, he possessed a native noble-
ness of mind that raised him far above the class to which
be seemingly belonged; yet his manners were plain and
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
simple, nor did the knowledge of his high birth ever lead
him to assume an air of superiority over the peasants with
whom he was associated. In his solitary musings he
thought so much about the wonders of the earth, the seo,
and the skies, that he became quite a natural philosopher;
but his chief delight was in the contemplation of the
heavenly bodies, and he would watch the moon in her
course, or gaze for hours on the myriads of stars tlat
shone in the blue vault above him, until lie acquired an
ardent taste for the sublime study of astronomy, in which
he indulged to the full at a later period of his existence.
And so the time passed on, bringing no change to
Henry de Clifford, save the gradual increase of years,
that transformed the slight delicate youth into the well-
grown, powerful man, whose fine form, handsome face.
and gentle manners won the hearts of the rustic maidens,
and matrons too, of Threlkeld.
His foster-brothers and sisters, one by one, married
amongst the villagers belonging to Sir Lancelot's estate,
so that, at last, Henry was left alone with the worthy
pair he called his father and mother.
In the meanwhile many stirring events were passing
in England, though little was heard about them in the
remote and quiet regions of Threlkeld. The wars of
the Roses had never wholly ceased. There had been
some peaceful intervals, hut they had not lasted for long
together, as Queen Margaret, assisted by the great Earl
of Warwick, the most powerful baron in the kingdom,
had resolved never to give up the cause so long as the
least chance remained of replacing her husband on the
throne, and securing the right of succession to her son.
The Earl of Warwick had at first fought for the Duke
of York, and it was through his power and influence that
THE SHEPIIHRi LORD.
Edward IV. was made king, for he had more men and
more money at his command than any other nobleman
in the country. However, King Edward was unwise
enough to quarrel with this high and mighty earl, who
thereupon went over to the queen's party, and actually
restored the poor, weak-minded King Henry VI. to the
throne; on which Edward went over to Holland to get
assistance of the Duke of Burgundy, his brother-in-law,
who placed an army of foreigners at his command, with
which he came back to England, and being joined by
many of his partizaus, a great battle was fought, in
which the Earl of Warwick was slain. This event took
place exactly ten years after the battle of Towton, where
Lord Clifford fell. King Henry was then sent back a
prisoner to the Tower, where he soon died; but Queen
S..1_ 1 .. who had just arrived from France, with Prince
Edward, her son, who was then seventeen years old, re-
;:olved for his sake to make one more effort ; but it
would have been better for him and for her too, if they
had given up this hopeless cause, and gone back to the
court of her father, who was King of Anjou in France,
for the battle was lost, the young prince was made
prisoner, and being taken into the royal tent, the king
spoke to him so rudely that he was provoked to answer
with more spirit than he had been expected, on which
some of the nobles who were standing by fiercely drew
their daggers and killed him on the spot.
The unhappy queen having no one to care for, gave
up the contest, and went to end her days in France, and
for thirteen years afterwards there was no more open
warfare in England; but there were still two parties, so
that the White and the Red Rose were badges of enmity
as before, for it was natural enough that all who, like the
'THE SHEPHERD LORD.
De Cliffords, had suffered from the success of the York.
ists, should wish to see the line of Lancaster restored.
The existing heir of that family was Henry, Earl of
Richmond, who was an exile in France, when Edward
IV. died, leaving two sons, the eldest only eleven years
of age. These were the two little princes that were
sent to the Tower by their cruel, ambitious uncle, Rich-
ard III., who contrived that they should both die there,
that he might wear the crown himself; but he had reigned
very little more than two years when some of the great
nobles, disgusted by his tyranny, sent word to the Earl
of Richmond that, if he came to England, with a view
to dethrone the usurper, he would find plenty of friends
ready to assist him. The earl was soon here at the
head of a large army, and met King Richard at Bos-
worth in Leicestershire, where the great battle was
fought that put an end to the War of the Roses and to
the life of Richard III.
You remember that when Edward IV. deprived the
Cliffords of their lands and honours, the great manor of
Skipton, with its fine old castle, was given to Sir William
Stanley. This brave knight had remained faithful to
King Edward, but he was amongst those who turned
against Richard ; and it was he who, when the fight was
over and the victory won, took up the crown, which it
appears, Richard had worn on the field, and placed it
on Richmond's head, calling out aloud, Long live King
Henry VII. !" And this cry passed from one to an-
other till the air resounded with the shouts of the victors,
who thus proclaimed the new sovereign on the battle
plain. When this momentous event took place Henry
de Clifford was about thirty years of age. He had now
dwelt for sixteen years amongst the mountains of Cum.
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
berland, and one thing only had occurred to disturb the
even tenor of his peaceful life.
A gentleman of noble family and good estate, Sir
John St. John, of Bletso, in Bedfordshire, came on a
visit to Threlkeld with his daughter Anne, a fair girl in
the bloom of youth and beauty. Henry, who had seen
her riding out over the hills with her father and Sir
Lancelot, thought he had never beheld so lovely a maiden;
and he was right, for in all England there were few to
compare with Anne of Bletso. She had seen him too,
and had observed how far superior he was in appearance
to other rustic swains, for the shepherd's frock of homely
gray could not conceal the graces of his person, which
also attracted the notice of the worthy knight, her father,
who, on one occasion, said to Sir Lancelot-
That is a well-favoured youth of yours ; I have seen
a face like his before, but I cannot bethink me where or
when, yet it is no common face either."
He is the son of my chief shepherd," replied Sir
Lancelot; "he was always a good-looking lad, and is
an excellent servant."
Then, anxious to divert Sir John's attention from
Henry, whose handsome features he feared might re-
mind the knight of the late Lord Clifford, whom his son
strongly resembled, he began to talk of other things.
But Henry did not forget the sweet face of the young
lady, or the beautiful eyes he had seen fixed intently
upon him, eyes as bright as the stars he was so fond of
gazing upon, and he could not help feeling sad to think
the fates had placed him in a sphere so much beneath
It chanced one day as he watched his flocks feeding
on the mountains, he saw the damsel on her white pal-
THE SHEPHEIUD LORD.
frey, attended by a single page, riding direct towards
the spot where he was reclining in profound meditation,
beneath the spreading branches of a luxuriant oak, that
shielded him from the noon-day sun. He rose at her
approach, and took off his cap, displaying a rich pro-
fusion of nut-brown hair as he gracefully made his obei-
sance, supposing she would pass by with merely a slight
notice, therefore he blushed with surprise and pleasure
when she stopped her horse, and said in the sweetest
Good day, shepherd Henry; I come to ask a ser-
vice of you."
If I can render you service, lady, you may com-
mand me, even to the peril of my life."
"Nay, I would not have you peril your life for my
behoof," 'she replied, with a smile.
In riding over the hills this morning, I have lost a
golden clasp,, with three diamonds, that fastened my
gorget, and I would ask you, should you meet with such
a bauble in your ramblings, to carry it to the Lady
Margaret of Threlkeld, who will see that it is restored
Lady I will not fail to do your bidding. Few per-
sons traverse those hills, and I doubt not the jewel may
Thanks, gentle shepherd. We leave Threlkeld this
day; so farewell, and be assured your courtesy will not
be forgotten by Anne of Bletso."
That night, by moonlight, Henry wandered over the
hills in search of the lost treasure, and for many hours
he sought in vain; but at length, oh joyful sight he
saw the diamonds glittering in the moonbeams, at the
bottom of a deep ravine, and without a moment's hesi-
THE SHEPHERD LORD. .
nation he commenced the dangerous descent. A single
false step and he would have been dashed to pieces
against the sharp points of the craggy rock, but with a
steady hand and firm foot he gained the depth in safety,
seized the prize; then, with great difficulty, and not
without a few wounds and bruises, he climbed up again'
and stood triumphant on the brink of a really frightful
precipice. If the young lady had known where her
clasp was to be found, she certainly would not have
asked him to look for it; but he was himself well pleased
to have encountered any danger for her sake, and in
THIE SlHErI) i) LORD.
thoughtful mood he returned to the cottage, and repaired
to his humble couch to dream of Anne St. John.
"Why, Henry, what hast thee been doing to face
and hands, boy ?" said Robin the next morning.
I stumbled into a brake, father," replied Henry,
laughing, and got a few scratches, that's all."
Dear heart, but they are grievous hurts !" ex-
claimed Maud, "you must let me put a balsam to them,
"As you will, mother, but it is hardly worth while
for so light a matter."
The balsam, however, was applied, and the wounds
were speedily healed, but Henry did not recover his
wonted peace of mind. As Lord Clifford he might
have won the hand of the high-born maiden on whom
his thoughts now constantly dwelt; but, as Henry the
Shepherd, even to speak to her was presumption.
Never had he lamented over his fallen fortunes as he
did now; but he buried his regrets in his own bosom,
nor did he let it appear, either by word or look, that he
was less contented than he was before.
Lady Margaret had taken care of the clasp, but she
told him the country was again threatened with war-
fare, so that it would not be safe to entrust anything
of value to the hands of a messenger; therefore she
would keep it till Sir Lancelot went to Bletso, which
he intended to do ere long. She did not tell him that
Sir John St. John had come to Threlkeld to give secret
information to herself and her husband of the project
contemplated by the chief nobles, to depose King
Richard and place the Earl of Richmond on the throne.
She was afraid of exciting hopes that might end in
disappointment, yet she was herself sanguine as to the
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
possibility of De Clifford being restored to his rights if
the crown should be won by a prince of the Hoise of
Lancaster. Sir John took great interest in the cause,
being himself related in a distant degree to Henry
Earl of ;1..i ...ri ; therefore the St John's of Bletso
had royal blood in their veins.
It was the close of the autumn, in the year 1485,
when Lady Margaret came one evening to Robin's
cottage, not secretly as heretofore, not in fear and
trembling lest it should be known for whom her visit
was intended, but openly to greet her son as De
Cliff,'rd's heir. Little did he guess the purport of her
coming as he returned her fond embrace, but he saw
that her countenance was radiant with happiness, and
he asked if Sir Lancelot had returned.
"No, my son, he is in London; and, Henry, I have
important news to tell. Have you courage to hear
Why should I need courage, dear mother ? You
do not look as if you had evil tidings to communicate."
The tidings I bring are not evil; but it requires
fortitude to bear a great joy as well as a great sorrow,
when it comes upon us unexpectedly."
Henry's heart began to beat more quickly, his face
flushed, and his voice trembled as he asked-
Mother, what has happened ? Tell me at once, I
"I told you, Henry, that we were looking for a re-
newal of the war."
"Yes, you told me so. Has it begun again ?"
"It has begun and ended, I hopa, for ever. There
has been a battle; King Richard is killed, and a prince
9f the House of Lancaster now sits on tle throne "
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
Henry started up from his seat, his eyes fixed on
Lady Margaret's face in an agony of suspense.
And I, mother, what have I to do with this ?"
Much, my beloved son. Henry VII. is a just and
noble prince, and your father, my husband, is at his
court even now."
"Then, am I- am I--" he could not give
utterance to what he wished to say, but Lady Margaret
knew what he would ask, and replied-
"Yes, my Henry, it is even so. You are now
Lord Clifford before all the world, and I, your mother,
may once more fearlessly acknowledge my son."
Henry fell on his knees, and raised his clasped hands
and streaming eyes in gratitude to heaven. He could
scarcely realize this great, this overwhelming happiness.
Again and again lie embraced that tender mother, who,
for so many years had watched over him like a guardian
angel, and smoothed the rugged path he had been
forced to tread.
When the first emotions of joy had in some degree
subsided, and he was calm enough to listen to the
account of how this happy change had been brought
about, Lady Margaret told him that the new sovereign,
immediately on his accession, had declared his intention
of restoring to their rights all those nobles who had
been dispossessed of their lands and titles by Edward
IV.; and that Sir Lancelot Threlkeld, on hearing this,
had proceeded to the court, with Sir John St. John of
Bletso, in order to make known to the king that the
heir of the late Lord Clifford was still in existence.
She said she had that morning received intelligence
from Sir Lancelot that the royal decree was already
passed for the restoration of Clifford's son to all his
THE SE5P2ERD LORD.
father's lands and dignities, and it was with the utmost
surprise Henry now learned, for the first time, how im-
mense were the possessions to which he was entitled;
for, besides the great estates of Skipton and Brougham,
his inheritance comprised the castles, manors, and lord-
ships of Appleby, Pendragon, Brough, and Maller-
stane Chase in Westmoreland; Barden Tower, Copley
Feld, and other manors in Yorkshire; with lands and
castles in Cumberland, Northumberland, Derbyshire,
Worcestershire and Surrey. Clifford's Inn, which is
now used as law offices and chambers, in Fleet Street,
was then a nobleman's mansion with beautiful gar-
dens; and this was Lord Clifford's residence in
No wonder the humble shepherd should be dazzled
and astonished to find himself all at once the lord of
those vast domains; and not only these, but all the
Bromflete estates, that had belonged to Lord de Vesci,
his grandfather, were now his by right of inheritance.
It would be impossible to describe the joy of the
worthy couple who had so long performed the part
of parents to the shepherd lord, at the wondrous turn
of fortune that had raised him once more to the elevated
sphere that was his birthright.
"We have lost a son," said old Robin, but we
have found a noble master; and may heaven grant him
a long life to enjoy his own."
Think not, my father, that you have lost a son,"
said Henry, pressing the old man's hand with affection-
ate warmth. I shall be ever a son to you."
"And to me also, my Lord Henry," said Maud,
"for it would break my heart now if you should bear
yourself towards me proudly in your own grand castle."
THE SHEPHEKDO LORD.
"I should ill deserve my good fortune, dear Maud,
if it made me so ungrateful as to bear myself proudly
towards you. Though I may be the lord of fifty castles,
you will always be to me a second mother."
The next day Henry took his place in the house of
Sir Lancelot Threlkeld as Lord Clifford. He laid aside
the peasant's suit of homely gray for a dress befitting
his rank, which Lady Margaret furnished him with
from her husband's wardrobe; and very handsome he
looked in a mulberry coloured vest richly embroidered
with gold, a short cloak of blue satin falling over one
shoulder, and a diamond hilted sword by his side, for
such was the fashion of the age.
The faithful Rolf was despatched to Brougham
Castle to see that all was prepared for the reception of
its lord; and right well did he execute the commission.
A sumptuous feast was provided, and a grand pageant
prepared to. meet him at the castle-gate. All the ancient
banners that had been taken down and thrown aside,
were now displayed again in the hall, and, under the
superintendence of Rolf, everything was made to look
just as it did before the banishment of the family.
At length the bright day dawned that was to see
Henry de Clifford restored to the beloved home of his
childhood, and the people had flocked from far and
near to hail the return of Brougham's rightful lord.
It was nearly noon when the calvacade was seen ap..
preaching. Thet loud acclamations rent the air, and,
as Henry lifted his plumed and jewelled cap to acknow-
ledge the greeting of the joyous multitude, his heart
was overflowing with gratitude to the Father of all
mercies, and he could scarcely restrain the tears that
were ready to gush from his eyes. He was mounted
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
on a fine gray horse, and on one side of him rode his
lady mother, on the other Sir Lancelot Threlkeld, while
behind him came a fair lady, escorted by a gentleman
of noble mien. This was his sister Elizabeth, who had
lived for many years in the Netherlands, and was
married to Sir Robert Aske, a wealthy knight, who
was now with her. They were followed by a long train
of knights and gentlemen and their attendants, forming
a retinue that might have graced a prince, and so they
came onward towards the castle gate, where a triumphal
arch was erected, on the top of which were two figures
clothed in white, with outspread wings, and golden
crowns, intended, perhaps, to represent angels; and as
Clifford passed under the arch, they chanted these lines-
Now the Red Rose blooms again,
Clifford o'er his own shall reign.
Fill the cup, and sheath the sword,
To welcome back our noble lord."
And now the shepherd lord stood once more in his
father's bannered hall. Silently he gazed around him on
the well-known scene, too powerfully affected to give
utterance to his feelings; and, as his mother clasped his
hand, she felt that it trembled even more than her own.
Let us pass on, my Henry," she whispered softly :
" we must hold communion alone."
Henry could not speak, but he pressed her hand
assentingly, and they left the hall together, amid the
congratulations and good wishes of all therein as-
The mother and son were absent for the space
of an hour, engaged, no doubt, in prayer and thanks-
giving, for when they returned to the hall Henry had
recovered his composure, and took the highest seat
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
at the sumptuous banquet with all the dignity of his
Gladsome was the feast that day at Brougham
Castle; joyous were the songs of the minstrel bards
as they celebrated in extempore verse, the exile's
restoration to his lo g lost home.
You may be sure that amongst the joyful assem-
blage that crowded the banquetting hall on that auspi-
cious day, old Robin and his wife Maud held a dis-
tinguished place; and proud indeed were they to hear
themselves addressed by the noble host as father and
It was not long after that another grand feast was
held. at Brougham Castle in honour of the marriage
of its lord, which had been celebrated at Bletso, where
the beautiful daughter of Sir John St. John willingly
bestowed her hand on him who, as a simple shepherd,
had won a place in her heart.
The only drawback to the happiness of our hero
THE SHEPHERD LORD.
was the consciousness of his neglected education. Un-
able to read or write, he cared not to mix with the
nobles of the court, but preferred living in retirement,
and with great simplicity. His grand object was to
repair all his castles, which had been much injured
daring the wars, and he expended vast sums of money
in fitting up some of them with princely magnificence;
but his own favourite residence was a quiet retreat
called Barden Tower, near Bolton Priory, in Yorkshire,
He chose this for his chief abode because it afforded
him the opportunity of spending much of his time at
the Priory with the monks, who assisted him in the
delightful study of astronomy, which he was passionately
fond of; but he beautified the place, and kept up a
noble establishment there, worthy of his own exalted
station, and of the lady he had made his bride.
"' Glad were the vales, and every cottage hearth:
The shepherd lord was honoured more and more:
And .ges after he was laid in earth,
'The good Lord Clifford' was the name he bore."*
OY, AND MAN I AIED H ALL MY LI, OM E DAY GOT HIS
"IBO, ND MMAN I TSILED WAS BI LKL Y OWN IN FE, FLON HUE DAY O GOT O IS
FIOST COMMAND TILL HE WAS SrKUCK DOWIX I." ES EQUM OF VICTUtMY."
STORY OF NELSON1
W. H. G. KINGSTON.
MY great ambition as a boy was to be a sailor; tht:
idea of becoming one occupied my thought
by day and influenced my dreams by night. I de-
lighted in reading naval histories and exploits and
tales of the sea, and I looked upon Rodney, Howe,
Nelson, and St. Vincent, as well as Duncan, Colling.
wood, Exmouth, and Sir Sidney Smith, as far greater
men, and more worthy of admiration, than all the
heroes of antiquity put together-an opinion which I
hold even to the present day, and which, I hope, all my
readers will maintain with me.
* Once it happened during my summer holidays that,
most unwillingly, I was taken up to London. During
the time, a naval friend, having compassion on me,
suggested that I might find matter of interest by a trip
TIE STOIY OF KELSON.
to Greenwich, and a visit to the Hospital. I jumped
at the proposal. I can never forget the feelings with
which I entered the wide, smooth space on which that
beautiful collection of buildings stands, forming the
Royal Hospital for Seamen, with its broad terrace
facing the river, and found myself surrounded by
many hundreds of the gallant veterans who had
maintained not only so nobly the honour of Old Eng-
land on the deep, but had contributed to preserve
her from the numberless foes whu had threatened her
The building is of itself interesting. On this spot
once stood the Royal Palace of Placentia, in which no
less than four successive sovereigns were born-Henry
VIII., Edward VI., Mary, and Elizabeth. Charles II.
had intended to rebuild it, but left it unfinished; and it
was put into the heart of good Queen Mary, the wife
of William of Orange, to establish that noble institu-
tion for the reception of the disabled seamen of the
Royal Navy, which, much augmented in size, has ever
since existed the noblest monument to a .sovereign's
I visited the beautiful chapel and the painted hall,
where already were hung a number of fine pictures,
illustrative of England's naval victories; and my friend
then took me to see an old shipmate of his, who was
one of the officers of the Hospital. When he heard that
I wished to go to sea, and was so warm an admirer of
Nelson, he exclaimed-
"He'll just suit me. Let him stay here for a few
days. We'll fish out some of our men who long served
with Nelson, and if he keeps his ears turning right and
left he'll hear many a yarn to astonish him. He must