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 drunkenness of her pride? Remember the prayer of our holy litany, where we implore the Divine power—"That it may please thee to forgive our enemies, persecutors, and slanderers, and to turn their hearts." The sin of the wrongs which have been done to the natives is shared by Judge Temple, only, in common with a whole people, and your arm will speedily be restored to its strength."

"This arm!" repeated the youth, scornfully, pacing the floor in violent agitation; "think you, sir, that I believe the man a murderer!—oh, no! he is too wily, too cowardly, for such a crime. But, let him and his daughter riot in their wealth—there will a day of retribution come. No, no.  no," he continued, as he trod the floor more calmly—"it is for Mohegan to suspect him of such a crime, as an intent to injure me; but the trifle is not worth a second thought."

He seated himself, and hid his face between his hands they rested on his knees.

"It is the hereditary violence of a native's passion, my child," said Mr. Grant, in a low tone, to his affrighted daughter, who was clinging, in terror, to his arm. "He is mixed with the blood of the Indians, you have heard; and neither the refinements of education, nor the advantages of our excellent liturgy, have been able entirely to eradicate the evil. But care and time will do much for him yet."

Although the divine spoke in a low tone, yet what uttered was heard by the youth, who raised his head, with a smile of indefinite expression, and spoke more calmly:—

"Be not alarmed. Miss Grant, at either the wildness of my manner, or that of my dress. I have been carried away by passions, that I should struggle to repress, I must attribute it, with your