waverers, and probably saved much trouble with the steerage passengers, who were eagerly watching to see what he would do, and knew that while this cheerful, brave young gentleman stayed with them they were not deserted and left to a hopeless fate. Probably, though he does not say so, and gives all the credit to one of themselves, the influence he was rapidly gaining over these rough men did much to avert catastrophe, when, presently, threatened mutiny for more spirits among the gangs of pumpers came to be added to the terrors of wind and wave. At last, after many perils, they anchored, with due gratitude, on the morning of May 9, off Fayal. Here they spent nearly a month; the leak must be stopped, and the ship repaired: and it is illustrative of the leisurely manner in which voyages were undertaken in the reign of William IV., that the departure of the Waverley was still further delayed for an emigrant whose head had got broken in an affray with some Portuguese boatmen on shore.

Head winds, dead calms, every untoward incident contributed to make the further voyage 'tedious and unlucky to an unusual degree,' but the sensational experiences of the earlier part were not repeated.

In turning the pages of this fascinating book the reader is arrested at every step by things that demand quotation; but I must confine myself to the briefest mention of only a few among them, in order to give due importance to what I consider as the central incident of the tour-the wonderful adventures with the Pawnees.

On his journey up the Hudson, Murray chronicles with pleasure a meeting with the American novelist, Fenimore Cooper, to whom he had been introduced some years before by Rogers. He was kind enough to point out the scenes of the unfortunate André's execution, and the treacherous Arnold's escape, and to communicate several interesting particulars relative to that transaction. . . .'

Mr. Murray approached the manners, customs, and institutions of America in a vastly different spirit from that in which they had been treated by other English travellers; that he did so was highly appreciated in the country about which he was writing. In a contemporary review of the book in an American magazine, the writer remarks: 'It would have been an easy matter for him to season his narrative and reflections with the usual quantity of ill-nature and sarcasm; to vindicate his claims to gentility at

home by the exhibition of a supercilious disdain of all the usages of society here, and to number with the deadly sins the slightest departure of the Americans from the conventionalities of his countrymen.' That he refrained from doing so, his reviewer intimates, would probably lessen the sale of the book in England; and he adds: We do not assert that Mr. Murray is the only English gentleman who has published his opinions upon our country, but he certainly is the author who best maintains that enviable character throughout his book.' It is no wonder that Americans felt sore at some pictures of themselves that had been painted by English visitors; but, for all his sense of humour, Charles Murray's eyes were always quicker to note what was lovely and of good report than the reverse. He records the unsuspecting generosity of good men at Burlington and Montpelier, to whom he was a stranger, but who trusted and helped him. Those whose character is amiable and conciliatory are always struck with the kindness they meet with in others. When men dwell constantly on the discourtesy and want of accommodation in those with whom they come in contact, it is safe to assume that they have not themselves peculiarly sunny dispositions.

At Lexington, at the table of Mr. Clay, he met a young German of the name of Vernunft, and, as they were both going to St. Louis, the two young men agreed to be travelling companions, but neither guessed into what strange scenes they would penetrate together before they parted. They arrived at Fort Leavenworth, a military post of the United States, situated on a promontory in the Missouri-and in those days the extreme outpost of civilisation-just in time for the national festival of July 4. While celebrating it by an excellent dinner, they heard of the arrival of a hundred and fifty Pawnees, 'under the guidance of Mr. Dogherty, one of the principal Indian agents,' and twelve or fourteen of the principal chiefs were at once invited to join the party. 'I had already seen many Indians, but none so wild and unsophisticated as these genuine children of the wilderness. They entered the room with considerable ease and dignity, shook hands with us all, and sat down comfortably to cigars and madeira. I was quite astonished at the tact and self-possession of these Indians, twothirds of whom had never been in a settlement of white men before, nor seen a fork, a table, or chair in their lives; yet without asking questions or appearing to observe what was passing, they . . during the whole dinner were not guilty of a single absurdity

or breach of decorum.' 'Having formed a hasty but determined resolution of accompanying these Pawnees in their return to their nation,' Murray consulted Mr. Dogherty, the Indian agent, who, he says, 'entered most obligingly into my scheme,' explained to the chiefs that the young man was a 'great chief among white men, and a son or relative of their grandfather' (the President of the United States), and gave him directions for his own conduct with the Indians, as never to laugh at their customs, never to play or be familiar with them, to conciliate them with presents, but stoutly to resist all attempts on their part to rob or impose upon him, and never to show fear or suspicion of them. Having failed in an attempt to get a half-blood Indian or other attendant accustomed to camp hunting,' they were obliged to trust themselves alone with savages, the only means of communication being through an interpreter, who spoke very bad French, very good Pawnee, and no English.' This seemed,' as he truly says, 'a strange and wild experiment;' but, nothing daunted, he set forth on July 7 with his savage hosts, accompanied by his German friend Vernunft, a Scottish servant (who must have thought he had indeed fallen on strange service), and a lad whom he had hired at the fort, the young son of the garrison messman.

the

The very first night of their march troubles broke upon them in the loss of four of their horses, and a day having been wasted in looking for them, during which the savages continued their march without them, they at last recaptured two of the missing animals, and succeeded after many mishaps in overtaking the Indians. The party with which they were travelling was in search of the great village or main camp of the Pawnees, which was itself also moving. The country through which they were passing was almost bare of game, and what there was was very shy, owing to passage of so large a body of Indians over the same trail so short a time before, so that food was very scarce; and Murray's dog was enticed from his feet while he slept, and no doubt eaten by the savages: though, as he was unable to prove it, he could. exhibit no anger, which would under the circumstances only have made him ridiculous' in their eyes. The weather was very hot, and the horses' backs so sore that it was necessary to walk most of the day. His companions urged him to return to the fort, but he insisted on pressing on, in spite of all drawbacks, and in a few more days they overtook the main body of the Pawnees.

'A circle was made consisting of all the chiefs, when we were

formally introduced by the interpreter. . I remarked the wonderful self-possession of these men, who are in fact the most curious and inquisitive in the world; and yet on the return of their party from the settlements laden with all the articles which they prize most highly, not the slightest expression of surprise, pleasure, or interest was apparent. Brother met brother, and father son, with the well-known short and simple universal greeting which no language can give in writing, and no observer could have known that their absence had been of more than two days' duration.' 'In consummation of the alliance' Murray doled out to the chiefs very weak brandy and water, over which he admits 'Jack on board H.M.S. 'would have made a wry face, but his motive was the praiseworthy one of not imbuing these savages with the taste for spirits which is so fatal to them. They were content with the honour of tasting the white man's liquor, and he humorously recounts the co-operation of the interpreter in the cause of temperance, who, after talking 'most gravely of the pernicious effects of spirits among les sauvages,' and 'carefully mixing for them at least nine proportions of water to one of brandy,' 'with equal gravity helped himself to a dram in which he exactly reversed the proportions.'

It was arranged that Murray and his servant should take up their abode with an old chief of the Grand Pawnees called Sâ-ni-tsă-rish, whose name signifies Wicked Chief,' luckily in this case a misnomer, as he seems to have been the only Indian from whom they received anything like righteous or noble dealing, and he certainly proved himself a good friend to them on several occasions. Vernunft and the other lad were to be the guests of the eldest son of the great chief, who is principally interesting to us as being the original from whom the character of Mahega in the 'Prairie Bird' was drawn.

The noble savage' does not appear to advantage in Mr. Murray's account, which bears the stamp of absolute truth; with the sole exception of his old host, they seem to have been uniformly mean, treacherous, greedy, dishonest, and cruel; and he adds, 'I never met with liars so determined, universal, and audacious.' The Indian when in the forts of the white man is all dignity and repose; he is acting a part the whole time, and acts it most admirably.' 'At home the same Indian chatters, jokes, and laughs among his companions, and frequently indulges in the most licentious conversation, and his curiosity is as un

Jounded and irresistible as that of any man, woman, or monkey on earth.' Nor were the Pawnee ladies any more attractive han their lords and masters. Not one instance was our gallant young chronicler able to find among them of' beauty either of face or figure, neatness of dress or cleanliness.' Indeed, the picture he draws of the degraded and drudging existence of these poor squaws is truly pitiable, and the state of filth and vermin of the lodges which he describes is appalling. It is impossible not to smile in comparing these truthful and unflattering descriptions of the candid traveller with the pictures in the 'Prairie Bird' of the heroine herself, War Eagle and Wingenund, and at the same time not to admire the ingenuity with which the novelist, while keeping the general description of the Indians rigidly truthful and characteristic, has contrived to make these exceptions to the rule seem not unnatural or impossible. The lodge of Sâ-ni-tsă-rish which was to be his abode for many weeks is carefully described for us, and it is matter for regret that we cannot quote all these graphic pictures of savage life in full. After unpacking and unsaddling the horses, the squaws arrange all the bales of cloth, maize, skins, &c. in a semicircle which forms the back of the tent, and the covering of buffalo hides sewn together is then tightly stretched over curved willow rods which, planted behind these bales, have their extremities brought over and bound to a framework of upright poles that form the front of the lodge. Before the tent, the shield (or armorial bearings') of the chief is displayed upon three poles placed pyramidically. • Each

occupant, from the chief to the lowest in rank, has his assigned place, sleeps upon his own blanket or buffalo robe, has his bow and quiver suspended over his head; his saddle, bridle, laryettes (halters), &c. behind his back; and thus little confusion prevails, although each individual has but just room to sit or lie at length.' 'In this tent I now established myself, spread my bearskin, hung up my rifle, and, with my saddle bags for a pillow, prepared for the " coming on of grateful evening mild." . . . I found that among the Pawnees silence was not among the goddesses of the night. Imprimis, the two children in the tent were extremely ill with whooping-cough, besides which they were very illtempered and completely spoiled. So that sometimes they were uttering the groans of real suffering, at others would scream with. the utmost power of their lungs until their mother arose and gave them anything they might fancy. In the second place, the