looking into the womb of futurity. Much of the time he was chanting a kind of low dirge, in the Delaware tongue, using the deep and remarkably guttural tones of his people.
"At such a moment, Mr. Edwards, all earthly distinctions end," whispered Elizabeth; "persuade John to move nearer to us let us die together."
"I cannot—he will not stir," returned the youth, in the same horridly still tones. "He considers this as the happiest moment of his life. He is past seventy; and has been decaying rapidly for some time; he received some injury in chasing that unlucky deer, too, on the lake. Oh! Miss Temple, that was an unlucky chase indeed! it has led, I fear, to this awful scene."
The smile that beamed on the lovely features of Elizabeth was celestial, as she answered, in a soft, soothing voice, "Why name such a trifle now—at this moment the heart is dead to all earthly emotions!"
"If any thing could reconcile a man, in the vigour and pride of manhood, to this death," cried the youth with fervour, "it would be to meet it in such company!"
"Talk not so, Edwards, talk not so," interrupted Miss Temple, "I am unworthy of it; and it is unjust to yourself. We must die; yes—yes—we must die—it is the will of God, and let us endeavour to submit like his own children."
"Die!" the youth rather shrieked than exclaimed, "No—no—there must be hope yet—you must not, shall not die."
"In what way can we escape?" asked Elizabeth, pointing, with a look of heavenly composure, towards the fire. "Observe! the flame is crossing the barrier of wet ground it comes slowly, Ed-
