'Vain, heartless coquette, you have answered the last question with which I shall ever trouble you!' exclaimed the angry lover, and so they parted. No effort was made by either party towards a reconciliation. The breach was evidently considered irreparable by one, if not by both, and to Edwin Elmer it began to be a matter of painful diurnal meditation, not unmixed with self-reproach for the stern tone he had assumed in calling Flora to account for her conduct, before he had listened to the explanation she might have had to offer. One evening as he was deliberating on the expediency of requesting the friendly offices of Lydia in this untoward business, he was roused from his cogitations by the entrance of Nehemiah, the parish-clerk, who, advancing with a funereal step, and looks of solemn commiseration, put into his hand a little twisted note, with these words: 'From the squire, sir.'

The curate broke the seal with an ominous qualm, in anticipation of the contents, which were as follow:-'Mr Morewood presents compliments to the Rev. Mr Elmer, and will be obliged by his meeting him at the church to-morrow morning, at nine o'clock precisely, to perform the marriage-ceremony?'

"To whom is Mr Morewood going to be married?' asked the curate in a faltering voice.

‘Lauk, sir! are you the last man in the parish to hear that? Didn't you know the licence had comed express by Will Tradely the groom, only yesterday?' exclaimed the astonished Nehemiah. Well, sir, I hope you wont take it too much to heart; for you know, sir, that a beautiful woman without discretion is likened by King Solomon to a jewel in a swine's snout.'

'Is it Flora Mayfield whom Mr Morewood is going to marry?' demanded the agitated lover.

'Why, sir, 'tisn't of no use deceiving you, since you must know the truth to-morrow,' responded the sympathising clerk with a deep groan; 'but now, sir, dear sir! if you have any love for me, or respect for yourself, do pluck up your spirit, and go through the job like a

man, and I will engage to put on your surplice and bands so gracefully, that she shall see there is some difference between you and the squire, who is full ten years older than you, and nothing of a scholar. And, after all, sir, I always did think Miss Lyddy would suit you far better than such a fly-away vanity-fair as the young one.' 'Silence, and leave me!' ejaculated poor Elmer, who could better brook the misfortune than the well-meant but misjudging consolations of his humble friend.

It was with a pale cheek and agitated step that Edwin Elmer entered the church the next morning, but he had reasoned himself into firmness sufficient for the trial that awaited him. He had occasion for it all when he heard the arrival of the elegant equipage of his fortunate rival announced. The bridal-party now approached. The miller of Shadingbrook, in all the glories of a new blue coat and buff-waistcoat, entered first, looking a proud and happy man, with his eldest daughter on his arm. Lydia was attired with exquisite neatness, in a cambric morningdress and white silk cottage-bonnet and shawl. They were followed by the squire and Flora, who was dressed -no matter how she was dressed. Edwin Elmer had never seen her look so lovely.

The greetings on his part were brief and cold. He received the licence from the jolly bridegroom with an averted head; and though, to conceal his painful agitation, he affected to bestow all his attention upon that document, the letters swam before his eyes in general confusion, and he was incapable of distinguishing a single word of its contents.

The faithful Nehemiah, to whom the office of marshalling the bridal-party before the altar had been silently deputed, cast a rueful look at his master's fevered brow as he placed the blushing, smiling Flora at the left hand of his fortunate rival. At that sight the luckless curate, who had been vainly endeavouring to find the service for the solemnisation of matrimony, dropped his book upon the pavement. Nehemiah was ready to groan at such an unorthodox proceeding; Lydia started; the miller

uttered an exclamation of wonder; the bridegroom shrugged his shoulders; and Flora, the unfeeling Flora, absolutely tittered.

The indignant colour rushed to the cheek of the insulted lover. Hastily recovering the volume, he opened it intuitively at the proper page, and, manfully confronting the candidates for matrimony, he, with a glance at Flora, that conveyed unutterable reproach, commenced the fatal service; but ere he had concluded the first sentence, he was interrupted by the miller exclaiming, in an accent of unfeigned wonder: 'Halloo! Mr Elmer, you are going to marry the wrong girl to the squire: Lydia is the bride, not Flora.'

The mistake was quickly remedied, surprise was expressed by no one, but the blushes brightened on the cheek of the lovely bridemaid, and her bosom fluttered with a livelier pulsation, when she observed the alternation from despair to rapture, which her lover's varying countenance betrayed, as she resigned her station by the bridegroom's side to her elder sister.

When the concluding benediction had been given, the final amen pronounced, and the parties, after the accustomed formalities of signing their names to the marriageregister had been duly gone through, were quitting the vestry, Flora looked back at the white-robed priest with an arch smile, and said: 'Are the squire's visits satisfactorily accounted for now, Mr Elmer?'

Ah, Flora, can you forgive my jealous folly?' was the whispered response.

'Why, yes—since you did not persist in marrying me to the squire, I suppose I must.'

'Oh, if you had known what I suffered while I fancied you were the bride!'

'All your own fault; I might have been your bride if you had wooed me to as much purpose as he has done my sister.'

Will you marry me to-morrow?' rejoined the curate once more, depressing his voice to a whisper.

'To-morrow!' repeated Flora; 'impossible. Do not

you know, that I have devoted myself to my sister's service for a whole month, in the capacity of bridemaid? When that engagement has been duly fulfilled, I may perhaps permit you to talk to me on the subject.'

"This day month, then, shall it be?' pursued the persevering lover.

'Ay, this day month-unless'

'Unless what?'

"You take another jealous fancy into your head before that period of probation be expired,' rejoined Flora smiling. 'What are you loitering behind, and talking about, good folks?' said the miller.

'We have been settling the day for our marriage, Mr Mayfield,' said the curate; 'which, if it meets with your approbation, is to be this day week.'

"This day month, Edwin,' interposed Flora.

"The sooner the better,' cried the miller; 'and this day week will suit me better than a month hence, which will be in the middle of harvest, when I never allow myself a holiday?'

From this decision Flora ventured no appeal, and her bridal considerably shortened the nine days' wonderment of the village on account of her sister's marriage with the squire.

A WINTER JOURNEY IN THE HUDSON'S

BAY TERRITORY.

THE sufferings endured by travellers in the wild unbeaten tracts of country lying betwixt Canada and the Hudson's Bay territory on the north, are severe enough in good weather, but are fearfully augmented during winter, or when the snows set in and cover the wellknown landmarks. Still, many individuals are necessi tated to make these dismal journeys, especially those engaged in the fur-trade and other mercantile pursuits. In a number of a St Louis paper, we find the following

account given by a young gentleman of his travels with two companions from the remote colony of Red River, in the Hudson's Bay territory, to St Peter's, in the beginning of 1837:

"We bade adieu to our friends at the Red River settlement on the 27th of February, at which time the ground was covered with snow, but this was a circumstance which did not intimidate us, as the snow is frequently hard on the surface, and forms good walking-ground. My companions were a Mr Richard Hayes, and a Mr Ignatius Parys. We proposed walking across the plains on snowshoes to Fort Snelling, St Peter's: the distance, as it is necessary to travel in winter seasons, being 750 miles. We were provided with a Metiff, or half-blood, a native of the colony, as guide, and dogs, and traîneau to carry our provisions, buffalo-robes, blankets, &c. The weather in February had been unusually mild for the north climate of Red River settlement, and at the time of our departure, some of the oldest inhabitants predicted our subsequent sufferings and disaster, saying that March would be terribly cold and stormy, and at the same time giving us the unpleasant information, that they not only considered, but actually knew, March to be the most dangerous month in the year to travel the plains in.

'We too soon realised the predictions of the old hunters. From the 4th to the 15th of March, we had scarcely a day without a storm. In fact, the weather was a continuation of storms. At different times we had been obliged to pass eight days in encampments. These delays had fearfully reduced our food. We were aware of our great distance from any trading post, where alone we could expect to get relief, knowing that there were no Indians within 300 miles of our route, from the almost total absence of the buffalo, as we saw but sixteen in travelling 500 miles. Our only alternative was to push on as fast as possible to the trading establishment of the American Fur Company, at Lake Travers, near the head waters of St Peter's river. But we found it easier to determine than to effect. Continued exposure to the cold