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the poor wig-owner on the head; but he had received a timely hint of their friendly intention, and when the tomahawks sought for him, he was far on his way, with his life-preserver, towards a British settlement.


Our readers may not be aware that the antiquities of the Indian tribes of North America have acquired, within the last half century, an immense and increasing interest. The earlier historians of the continent were ignorant or incredulous as to the existence of any such mementos of the past, although the chroniclers who followed in the wake of Cortez and other conquerors, had described them in the most glowing terms. At length, by the researches of Humboldt and other travellers in Mexico and Peru, especially of Stephens and Catherwood in Central America, it has been found, that those portions of the continent abound in the most magnificent remains. Immense pyramidal mounds crowned with gorgeous palaces, or sacrificial altars adorned with elaborate sculptures, tablets covered with hieroglyphic inscriptions, as yet undecipherable, generally rude, but sometimes elegant in idea and execution; sculptures, and paintings, and ornaments,—are met with in increasing numbers among the depths of the tropical forests, the gorgeous vegetation of which invests thein, as it were, with a funereal shroud, and embraces them in the death-grasp of final obliteration. It is fortunate, that some records of these precious memorials are preserved to us by recent explorers. They attest the former existence of a race which had attained a fixed state of civilization, a considerable knowledge of the arts and sciences, with a religious system, of which terror appears to have been the great principle, human sacrifices forming its conspicuous feature; a state of things indeed in all respects identical with the condition of Mexico at the period of its invasion by Cortez, when some of the temples were doubtless destroyed, while others of more ancient date probably were at that period already fallen into ruin. In North America, during the period of its first settlement, which was conlined almost exclusively to the seaboard, no discoveries whatever were made; but as the stream of emigration, crossing the ridges of the Alleghanies, poured down upon the Mississippi and the Ohio, and the dense forests and boundless prairies of the west were gradually opened and explored, another and very interesting class of antiquities began to be disinterred from the oblivion of centuries. It was but slowly, indeed, as the forest fell beneath the axe of the backwoodman, that they came to light; they were for a long time but partially uncovered, or so imperfectly explored, that, even until a very recent period, they were regarded by many as being only peculiarities of geological formation, which credulous imagination had converted into fortresses, and temples, and sepulchres. The recent researches of Squier and Davis,

accompanied as they are by elaborate surveys and drawings, have left no further room for scepticism, and have established, beyond dispute, the interesting fact, that the interior of the North American continent, as well as the southern, was once inhabited by an immense and settled population, who have left behind them almost innumerable memorials of their occupation.

These remains extend almost continuously over the whole interior, from the great lakes on the north to the Gulf of Mexico on the south, and from the sources of the Alleghany in western New York, far above a thousand miles up the Missouri, and into Michigan, Wisconsin, and Iowa. They are found in far greater numbers in the western than in the eastern portion of this immense district. They may be traced too along the seaboard from Texas to Florida, but are not met with any further along the north-eastern coast. They are generally planted in the rich valleys of the western rivers, or elevated above them on commanding natural terraces. In the neighbourhood of the upper Lakes they assume the singular form of gigantic relievos of earthen walls, often covering several acres, tracing out upon the soil outlines of the figures of men, birds, beasts, and reptiles. Southward of these appear, on the banks of the Ohio and its tributaries, mounds and truncated terraces of immense extent, sustaining earthen enclosures and embankments extending for entire miles. Of these extraordinary earth-works many were evidently fortifications, exhibiting no small constructive skill, defended by numerous bastions, having covered ways, hornworks, concentric walls, and lofty mounds intended as observatories, and numerous gateways giving access to the immense line of fortified enclosure, with graded roadways to ascend from terrace to terrace. Of these defences there appears to have been a chain, extending from the head of the Alleghany diagonally across central Ohio to the river Wabash.

Not all, however, of these earth-works were intended as fortresses; many are evidently designed for religious purposes. One of the most extraordinary of these is called the Great Serpent, ou a projecting tongue of high land in Adams County, Ohio. The head of the reptile points toward the extremity, his form is traced out with all its convolutions, and its jaws are opened as it were to swallow a large eggshaped enclosure occupying the extreme point of the promontory. Its entire length, if stretched out, would be a thousand feet. The serpent and globe was a symbol in Egypt, Greece, Assyria, and Mexico; and those familiar with English antiquities will no doubt remember a similar and still more gigantic instance of a serpent, sacred enclosure, and mound on the downs of Avebury in Wiltshire. Of the earthworks some arc square, some perfectly circular, others of intricate and curious outline, while many appear to have something symbolical in their arrangements. It is necessary also to correct a popular mistake with regard to their materials, which, it has been affirmed, consist exclusively of earth, whereas both stone and mbaled brick have occasionally been made use of. Ijs mounds scattered over the western valleys and rsiries are almost innumerable, and of infinitely ririous dimensions, one of the largest covering six ices of ground. These also appear to have been ippropriated to different purposes, some to sustain uciificial altars or temples, others intended for sepulchres, containing skeletons, with pottery and charcoal for consuming the bodies. A remarkable instance of tie ktter class is the great mound at Grave Creek, iliicli was penetrated by a perpendicular shaft opening into two sepulchral chambers, containing several skeletons with pottery and other articles. Within tiese enclosures and mounds have been discovered numerous stone sculptures of the heads of men, or of tanan figures in crouching attitudes; of the beaver, tie rid eat, and the toad; of the swallow and other birds; of the heron striking a fish, the last very beauLfullv executed; and of the sea cow, an auimal f«\iliar to the tropical regions. Ornamented tablets bit also been dug up, and in some places sculptures of men, eagles, and elks can be traced on the face of ue rocks, with rude nttempts to represent hunting scenes. There have also been found instruments of diet and copper, axes, drills, and spear heads, stone discs, and instruments for games, witli beads, shells, ornaments, and pipes, as well as decorated pottery.

Respecting the whole of these monuments it may be remarked, that they arc evidently far ruder than 'ikose in Mexico and Central America, to which as thet approach in locality they appear to approximate a their character and arrangements; and it is thus a interesting question whether we are to regard tM is the original and more ancient works of a race «to afterwards reached a higher degree of civilization latier to the south, or whether, on the contrary, lie? present to us traces of a migration from the sooth towards the north. "It is not impossible," ohserres Squier, " that the agriculture and civilization of Mexico, Central America, and Peru, may have originated on the banks of the Mississippi." Whatever maj be the result of further researches, one thing i abundantly evident, that the great valley of that titer and of its tributaries was once occupied by a filiation who had advanced from the migratory !We of hunting to the fixed condition of cultivators of the soil, that the population who raised these great "f.ensive and sacred structures must have been dense and widely spread, in order to execute works for vhich prolonged and combined efforts were so obvi""]? necessary, and that their customs, laws, and re.ijion must have assumed a fixed and definite shape.



Tim glided by unheeded; the London season was fcv its close, when, one morning at breakfast, Mr.

(1) Concluded from page 21.

Mordaunt observed, "Well, Alonzo, time gets on; we are now in July, and before the end of October you must be safely lauded at Rio. We must secure your passage in the next month's packet."

All this was well known and fully expected, yet did the intimation astound Alonzo. "So soon! can it be possible?"

The same evening they were en famille at the Countess's; the whist and chess tables were arranged as usual. "What are you thinking of, Don Alonzo, to make such a move as that?" inquired Viola; *' you are a little absent—out of spirits this evening."

"I ought not to be so," said Alonzo, trying to rally, "for wc have been busy all day planning and arranging about our voyage home."

"Indeed I" said Viola. Alonzo thought she sighed; certainly, she in her turn made a false move. Soou after, a servant entered with a case of jewels belonging to Viola, which had returned from being repaired; while looking at them Alonzo observed, that she was not a little envied by the London belles for the splendor of her jewels.

"How comes it," said she, " that I never see you wear any ornaments, not even a ring? Our young Brazilian beaux arc naturally so fond of these decorations!"

"I assure you," said Mr. Mordaunt, looking off his cards, " Don Alonzo has one of the most superb rings I ever saw—a single yellow diamond, of great value."

Alonzo felt irritated, he scarcely knew why, and replied, in a bitter sarcastic tone, quite unusual with him: "Yes, I have a yellow diamond, indeed, that I never wish to see, or to show to any one else."

The words were scarcely out of his mouth before he felt their impropriety. "Draw your card, my lady, if you please," said Mr. Mordaunt.

"Check!" cried Alonzo, and with an effort looked at Viola. She was leaning on her hand; and her large, black, and brilliant eyes, with their long upturned lashes, were fixed on his. He started at the look—why or wherefore he could not imagine. The eyes were withdrawn, and the game continued.

A few evenings after, he was leading her from a dance to place her, as usual, by the side of the Countess; they had to traverse three or four crowded rooms before they could reach the one where her ladyship was seated at whist; they moved very slowly and loitcringly along, seemingly in no great hurry to arrive at their destination.

"Are you really going to leave us next month, Don Alonzo?"

"Really; and you, Donna Viola, what becomes of you?"

"I go to Portugal."

•' And there?" said Alonzo in an inquiring tone.

"Oh, there we shall not remain long; our Brazilian property will require our presence."

"Then we shall meet again," said Alonzo, eagerly.

"I hope so—I dare say, in a few months."

"Well, that is some comfort !"'—and he seemed to respire more freely; then, after a pause—" but, I shall never again meet Viola.'"

"But "Viola, Don Alonzo," slie replied, firmly, "will meet you as she lias always met you; what she has been, she will continue to be—your sincere and affectionate friend."

"Thank you, Viola, thank you!—but pray do not speak another word to me just now." He placed her in her seat, and without looking at her, turned away and left the house.

Mr. Mordaunt had accepted the pressing invitation of Alonzo to accompany him to Brazil; their passage was taken, and their preparations well forward. Alonzo paid his farewell visits, and did all that was necessary on the occasion with the most perfect composure.

A passage was also taken for Viola and her suite in the Lisbon packet, and the day was fixed for her leaving town for Falmouth. The day following was decided on by Alonzo for the same purpose, but this he managed to conceal from her.

The morning before her departure, he called on the Countess. "You arc come to take leave of Donna Viola?" said her ladyship.

"No, I am not; I ara come to take leave of you, (for I also am on the eve of quitting London,) and to thank you for all yourTdnd attention."

"But why not of Viola?" said the Countess; "she will be so disappointed."

"It is better I should not."

"But what am I to say to her?" inquired she.

"Precisely what I have just said—that it is belter I should not."

The Countess returned no reply; and, with all good wishes on each side, they parted.

The weather was beautiful, and Mr. Mordaunt appeared to enjoy his journey exceedingly ; but Alonzo was absorbed in thought, and it was only now and then, when Mr. Mordaunt touched upon his approaching meeting with his father, and his old Ilio friends, that Alonzo could be roused for a moment. At the inns, too, he occasionally heard something that attracted his silent attention, of the beautiful young foreigner who had passed the day before.

They arrived at Falmouth in the morning to breakfast. With a beating heart, Alonzo inquired concerning the foreign lady and the Lisbon packet; the lady had gone on board the evening before, and the Lisbon and Rio packets were to sail early on the following morning.

After breakfast, the two gentlemen were engaged superintending the embarkation of their servants and baggage, and having taken an early dinner went on board.

It was a lovely evening. Alonzo glanced at the merry and busy town of Falmouth, the numerous vessels, and the broad Atlantic, which lay stretched out before him; then his eye fixed, as though there were nothing else worth looking at, on tlie small vessel that lay nearest to him. He suddenly left his station, descended into a boat, and was in a few minutes on board.

In the outer cabin he met the duenna, who looked very much surprised at seeing him; but, without speaking, threw open the door of the after-cabin—he entered, and the door closed behind him.

Viola lay on a couch, apparently absorbed in reading; the noise startled her, and she looked up; but nothing can express the astonishment painted on her countenance at the sight of Alonzo, who stood fixed as a statue before her. She sprang from the couch, and evidently her first feeling was to run towards him, but probably the strangeness of his look and demeanour arrested her; for she checked herself, and exclaimed, " Don Alonzo!"

"Viola!" said he seizing both her hands, and gently forcing her to return to the seat she had left; "Viola!" (the word seemed to choke him,) " I cannot live without you—you are yet free, have pity on me!"

"Alonzo," she asked, in a tremulous voice, " are you free?"

"I am not irrevocably bound."

In a moment she seemed to recover her selfpossession, and replied, "Then I must tell you, that / am. You are labouring under a fatal error; you think I am but engaged—lam married. But stay!" she exclaimed, alarmed at the effect of her communication—"stay!—one moment!—Alonzo!—I beseech you!"

It was in vain; he almost shook her off, rushed to his boat, and in a few minutes was on board of liis own vessel; he pushed by Mr. Mordaunt, and everybody and everything that impeded his way to his cabin, where, locking the door, he threw himself on his bed, in a state of mind not to be described.

Mr. Mordaunt took possession of the boat Alonzo had quilled, went on board the Lisbon packet, and had an interview with Donna Viola.

At day break, the following morning, Alonzo, wrapped in a cloak, and his hat slouched over his brow, stood on the deck, watching, with gloom; composure, the Lisbon packet getting under weigh; she soon began to move—a few minutes more, and she vas dashing through the water close beside him. Desperate thoughts for an instant darkened his mind; a feeling of revenge aud despair beset him, and he felt a strong temptation to plunge into the wake of the flying vessel—when one of the latticed windows of the after-cabin was suddenly thrown open; he saw a waving handkerchief, and then the form of Viola herself, her eyes streaming with tears, kissing both her hands, and waving them to him. He had just time to return the salutation; his dark purpose vanished, the weakness of his mother came over him, and he wept. "She loves me I"—that thought alone, single and abstracted, brought back the blood in a rush of transport to his heart—" she loves me! and nobly sets me the example of a virtuous submission to our fate!"

A friendly hand at that moment was laid on his; Mr. Mordaunt drew him to his cabin. "Alonzo," he said, " I have been sadly to blame—I ought to have foreseen and guarded against all this. Donna Viola, thorn I saw last evening, bade me give you this note," sitting one into his hand. Alonro tore it open:—" Alonzo, I conjure you, for tie sake of your father(or my sake—struggle against tour fatal and hopeless passion! We shall very soon Met again—let us meet in peace, in innocence, and friendship! Heaven bless you, and Heaven forgive is botli, for we have been much to blame !—Viola."

Tiola was very inexperienced, and Mr. Mordaunt be* very little about love, otherwise Alonzo had never received this note, which only added fuel to the fame; he kept it next his heart, and read it every da; daring the passage. He questioned Mr. Mordant closely concerning his interview with Viola the preceding evening, and especially inquired whether he '■odd give him any information concerning her husband. "I am told," he said, " that he is a man of tin rank, very rich, old, and infirm. He has married lie orphan daughter of his friend, merely as a safei guard to her and her property in these dangerous I tiies." At this intelligence, Alonzo's heart bounded r;k secret joy; he became comparatively tranquil, tat be would not analyse his feelings—he dared not. [ A feiv weeks brought them to Rio. On entering j its superb harbour, Mr. Mordaunt was struck with dmiration at the magnificent and beautiful scenery that surrounded him; but to the heart of AJonzo it. 'spke jet more feelingly, entwined as it was with all tis dear and early associations. He could have kissed tWtbrkand barren rock of the Sugar-Loaf; it was P»sse4siiJ threw open the graceful sweep of the Bay '>' Botafjj), surrounded with its wooded and lofty BWrtains; this too was passed, and the harbour of Kio appeared. Great political changes had taken wee, and the Imperial flag waved upon every fort mi M. The visiting boat approached, and by the side of the officer sat Alonzo's watchful and expecting 'i'atr, who in a few minutes more was locked in the sras of his son. On their landing, friends crowded Mod them; in the afternoon they visited the good, •s' Ablj(*s; and the evening was employed in Ting Alonzo's recollections of his young female •■'ads most of whom had now become wives and alters; and those whom he had known as children, ■*) started up into young women, a process remark•i? rapid in that country. He was pleaded to feerve the vast improvement that, even during the •'!'t period of his absence, had taken place at Rio, >s fir as concerned the comforts and refinements of wmestic life. On the following morning he was sweated at court ;—in short, for two or three days, he had not leisure even to look melancholy.

Mt one morning after breakfast, (a lime universe; agreed upon for making disagreeable communica'■-"ia,) his father informed him that, in about a month, -kia Isabella might be expected, with her father TM aunt. "I have taken a temporary residence for !*". rticb I think you will like, at Botafogo, (I say ■ifircty, for you will soon be offered, what you r it desire, a diplomatic mission to Europe;) and U furnishing and arranging this residence has been

my hobby for the last six months. If you and Mr. Mordaunt have no objection we will ride to see it this afternoon." "If you please, sir," was the only reply; and, accordingly, at the appointed time they set out. The house and situation were both delightful; the furniture tasteful and costly. The apartment peculiarly appropriated to Donna Isabella, and called her garden-room, opened into a delicious parterre; it contained tables for needle-work and drawing, bookcases filled with a collection in English, French, and Italian; there were also a piano, harp, and guitar.

*' Is Donna Isabella such a proficient in music P" asked Alonzo, with a sarcastic smile.

"She is, 1 believe, very fond of it," quietly replied the Marquess. Alonzo, with much warmth and sincerity, thanked his father for the kind pains he had taken; then sighed, and thought how happy he could be here with—certainly not with Donna Isabella.

After the first novelty of his arrival had worn off, Alonzo relapsed into sadness; a settled gloom was gathering on his youthful brow, a sickening indifference to all around was gradually stealing over him. His father and Mr. Mordaunt did all they could to arouse and distract his attention. Excursions into the country were frequently made, especially to the botanical garden, about six miles from the city. It is arranged with exquisite order and good taste, encircled by bold and rugged mountain-scenery, opening towards the ocean—reposing in all its richness of floral beauty, with its shady and stately trees, its leafy bowers and gushing streams, like a gem in the wilderness—like the decked and lovely bride of a dark-browed warrior in those stern days of " auk! lang syne," of which one loves to dream in spots like these. Water-parties to the many beautiful islands—society and study— were all tried, and in vain! every day, every hour, seemed to increase the despondency of Alonzo; but he never complained, never even touched in any way upon the subject that caused it. Upwards of three weeks passed in this manner.

Alonzo was fond of the society of the Abbess; with the unerring tact of her sex, she managed his present mood; she would sit opposite to him, employed at her old-fashioned embroidery frame, for an hour without speaking; this was just, what he liked. One afternoon he bad ensconced himself in his accustomed seat in her little grated parlour; he scarcely observed her entrance, but instead of scaling herself at her frame, she stepped towards him.

"Alonzo, I am glad you have come, for I was just going to send for you."

"To send for me?" repeated he, listlessly.

"Yes, a friend of yours has arrived at the convent, and wishes to sec you."

"A friend of mine!"

"You recollect, I suppose, Donna Viola de Montezuma?"

He started from his seat—the shock was electric.

"Viola, did you say ?—Donna Viola;—recollect her!—what of her ?—what of her P"

"She lias become a widow."

* Go on!"

"She arrived at Lisbon just in time to receive the last breath of her expiring husband. After the funeral, she consigned her affairs there into proper hands, and delayed not a moment in returning to this country, where they demand her instant attention. She arrived yesterday, and remains here for a short time. She wishes to see you."

"I am ready," said Alonzo.

The Abbess left the room. "This is too—too much!" he exclaimed aloud, as he paced the little parlour with hurried steps. A slight rustling near the grate arrested him; it was Viola, in deep mourning, looking more lovely and interesting than ever. She presented him her hand through the grate—he knelt, and pressed it to his lips, to his heart, to his burning forehead. "Alonzo," she said, in the kindest and most soothing tone, " I have heard from the Abbess of your marriage, and I fear that I have innocently contributed to render that, which might have proved the highest blessing, a source of bitter misery. What can I do but to entreat you to arm yourself with the resolution of acting right? I confess that your forcing me to lose my esteem for you, would be the greatest pain you could inflict, even although your affection for me were the cause. Promise me, Alonzo—"

He hastily interrupted her: "I will promise nothing—nothing! Heaven grant that I may do what is right, but in the present state of my mind, I will pass my word for nothing."

Viola sighed. "Well," she resumed, " I shall see whether Alonzo be really what I believed him, or not. I shall see whether he be capable of sacrificing the happiness of his young and innocent wife, and of his doating father—his own honour and principles, to the shadow of a shade; for such is all hope of me. Heaven bless you, Alonzo! and support you through this trial! You have my prayers, my best, my warmest wishes; deserve to be happy, and leave the rest to Providence."

She disappeared; he still remained kneeling at the grate, apparently wrapt in thought. At length, a ray of light seemed to break through the darkness that surrounded him; a single spark of hope saved him from utter despair. He decided that, in his first interview with Donna Isabella, he would reveal every secret of his heart; he would conjure her, as she valued their mutual happiness, to assist him in breaking the tie that had been made between them. He would recall to her recollection the fatal hour of their union, when reluctance on his side, and the necessity of absolute force on hers, formed but au evil omen of future concord. Since that moment they had never met, had never even corresponded; he had formed elsewhere a deep and serious attachment, and so perhaps had she. As to the debt he had incurred towards her and her family, with a little time and indulgence it would be cleared, as the property in Portugal was on the eve of being restored to his

father. Thus, if they acted with determination, anil in unison, there could be no doubt of their succeeding in breaking the galling fetters in which the mistaken zeal of their relatives had bound them. "U," he exclaimed, "she be not utterly devoid of the common pride and delicacy of her sex, there is but one step to take; she will—she must take it—and I shall become' free and happy!"

Full of this thought he left the convent; and, on his return home, sought Mr. Mordaun., and laid his project before him. Mr. Mordaunt listened with the utmost kindness and sympathy. He saw but one objection to the attempt: if Donna Isabella, in spite of all he could urge, should refuse to enter into his views, how much wider would it make the breaeli between them! how much would it diminish their chance of happiness! But to this side of the picture Alonzo absolutely refused to turn; and Mr. Mordaunt, seeing him perfectly resolved, gave up the point; glad, at all events, that Alonzo had even this slight support to lean upon until the crisis arrived.

At the top of the Marquess's small and rather inconvenient abode was a room in which, on account of its height and airiness, and the view of the harbour it commanded, the gentlemen preferred to breakfast, and to spend the morning in; a spy-glass was fixed here, to which, of late, the eye of the Marquess had been often and anxiously applied. One morning, about a week after the scenes just described, the Marquess seemed more than usually on the alert, watching the approach of a fine Brazilian merchantship. "Is she near the fort ?"—" here she comes "— "she is abreast of it"—" now for it!" and as he spoke, up flew a private signal. The Marquess clasped his hands, and exclaimed in a half-whisper, to Mr. Mordaunt, "Thank heaven, there they are at last!" and the two gentlemen instantly left the room.

"Well," thought Alonzo, "I am not bound to know that there they are at last, until I am informed of it;" and he tried again to rivet his attention to his study. Three intolerably long hours passed away; a note was then brought to him from the Marquess: "Donna Isabella, her aunt, and father have arrived, and are now at Botafogo. The two ladies are somewhat fatigued, and prefer not receiving you until the evening; therefore, between seven and eight, Mr. Mordaunt and the carriage will be at your door."

Alonzo sent away his untouched dinner; he dressed en granite toilette; and, taking down Walter Scott's last new novel, strove to fix his attention on its delightful pages. Alonzo had generally the power of exercising great mastery over his mind; to an indilferent observer he would appear rather cold, reserved, and not easily acted upon in any way; but, when his feelings once burst their barrier, it was with a violence proportioned to the restraint he had thrown over them.

At half-past seven, the carriage drew up to the door, and Alonzo immediately descended to it. "I am glad to see you arc quite ready," said Mr. Mordaunt, as he entered; the door closed, and they drove off.

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