there was one room—it was without stove or bed—which I might have if I pleased. I told her we were gentlemen. She very quietly said, 'I dare say you are,' and left us.’ At last they obtained lodgings in an alehouse, and became objects of considerable curiosity among the settlers.
"Inured by excursions of this kind, the adventurous Lord Edward subsequently set out on a much longer journey—his intention being to pass from Quebec, through the country of the Indians, to Detroit and Fort Pitt, and thence to New Orleans, thus traversing the whole length of the North American continent, his intention being then to extend his journey through Mexico, to the silver mines of Spanish America. The celebrated Indian chief, who had visited England under the name of Joseph Brant, but whose true name was Thayendanegea, accompanied him, and assisted him in all his canoe journeys up and down the rivers in their course. Between Thayendanegea and Lord Edward a strong friendship had sprung up, and the Indian proved a faithful friend. They crossed the great Lake Ontario together, and passed through a number of Indian villages. Everywhere the wild tribes treated them with kindness and respect. With the Bear Tribe at Detroit they stayed some time, and Fitzgerald gives a glowing account of their happy lives, and the simplicity of their manners. So strong, indeed, was the attachment that sprang up between them that the Indians determined to adopt the stranger into their tribe, and make him one of their chiefs. This ceremony was accomplished through the medium of the chief of the Six Nations! whom the Americans knew under the name of David Hill. The document by which this wild honour was conferred upon him was found, after Lord Edward's death, among his papers, written in the Indian language, of which the following is a translation:—
"I, David Hill, chief of the Six Nations, give the name of Eghindal to my friend, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, for which I hope he will remember me as long as he lives.
"The name belongs to the Bear Tribe."
"After eight months' wanderings, Lord Edward arrived at New Orleans, by the way of the Mississippi. Here, having announced to the authorities his intention of proceeding to the silver mines of Spanish America, permission was refused him, and he was compelled to return to Europe."
Log.—Saturday 1st Dec. 35°0’S.; 15°15’W. 2nd, 36°40’S.; 11°40’W. 3rd, 38°53’S.; 7°42’W. 4th 40°06’S.; 5°00’W. 5th 40°39’S.; 3°46’ W. 6th, 41°25’S.; 2°01’W. 7th, 40°50’S.; 0°02’E.
Musings.
Away across the wild ocean, from Erin of the Streams, we still pursue our compulsory flight to the shores of the southern continent, now cleaving the air with strong and swift pinion, and now gliding easily along on the scarcely riffled surface of the vast watery expanse. Scarce twenty years have elapsed since others winged their way over nearly the same path, some of whom, after a short sojourn under the austral sky, sought more congenial climes; some returned to their favourite haunts, and others, plumming themselves for a last flight, shaped their course for spheres beyond the grave. Farther back in the past, we see the "Wild geese" spreading their pinions for the sunny land of France, and, in gratitude for their kindly reception by its chivalrous people, freely shedding their blood to uphold the honor of the fleur-de-lis. Others again, escaping from the net of the fowler, found their way to the free shores of Columbia, and have been ever amongst the foremost to respond to her calls to arms in defence of her liberties; in the late unhappy struggle for pre-eminence between the federal and Confederate States, cementing the union with their life-blood. But a little time ago, we wandered light-hearted and free o’er hill and dale, or sported luxuriously in the bright waters of our island home. Our banished flock, collected together from the shores of the charming lakes of Killarney, whose exquisite scenery might well induce the Queen of Fairyland to establish her elfin court within their precincts, whilst Naiads and Nereids disported themselves in the pellucid waters, on summer eve, to the ravishing strains of enchanted harps; from the lovely vales of the murmuring Lee, the broad, glistening Shannon, and the historic Boyne; or from the sternly picturesque coasts of our sea-girt isle,—speed on, still on, upon the bosom of the storm-winds, o’er the boisterous Atlantic, to our far prison-home. As we list to the hoarse roar of the wild waves, or watch the icthyic monsters as they chase each other sportively through the briny element, sad thoughts come over us. We wonder if the mighty sea contains within its unfathomable depths more mysteries than the heart of man. We try to discover if those who have gone before us have left any trace on its surface, that we might mark and learn. We ask the weird winds, as they fold us in their rough embrace, if they have passed over the place of our future exile, and if so, what tidings they bring from it. We ask, does the sun shine as bright, and is nature as generous to the soil as in our own home? Will the kindly fruits of the earth beat our disposal? Will the sun shine for us in that strange land? is the atmosphere of such nature that it can ever change our hearts, and estrange us from one another or the land of our sires? Is the climate conducive to health and long life? or is it calculated to shorten the existence
