ing his
sunburned and muscular throat. In fact, he wanted nothing, save the
hunting-knife, the rifle, and the powder-horn, to constitute him a
perfect specimen of a thorough backwoodsman.

Redfeather and Louis were similarly costumed; and a noble trio they
looked as they sat modestly in a corner, talking to each other in
whispers, and endeavouring, as much as possible, to curtail their
colossal proportions.

"Now, Harry," said Mr Kennedy, in a hoarse whisper, at the same time
winking vehemently, "we're about ready, lad. Where's Kate, eh? shall we
send for her?"

Harry blushed, and stammered out something that was wholly
unintelligible, but which, nevertheless, seemed to afford infinite
delight to the old gentleman, who chuckled and winked tremendously, gave
his son-in-law a facetious poke in the ribs, and turning abruptly to
Miss Cookumwell, said to that lady, "Now, Miss Cookumpopple, we're all
ready. They seem to have had enough tea and trash; you'd better be
looking after Kate, I think."

Miss Cookumwell smiled, rose, and left the room to obey; Mrs
Taddipopple followed to help, and soon returned with Kate, whom they
delivered up to her father at the door. Mr Kennedy led her to the
upper end of the room; Harry Somerville stood by her side, as if by
magic; Mr Addison dropped opportunely before them, as if from the
clouds; there was an extraordinary and abrupt pause in the hum of
conversation, and ere Kate was well aware of what was about to happen,
she felt herself suddenly embraced by her husband, from whom she was
thereafter violently torn and all but smothered by her sympathising
friends.

Poor Kate! she had gone through the ceremony almost mechanically--
recklessly, we might be justified in saying; for not having raised her
eyes off the floor from its commencement to its close, the man whom she
accepted for better or for worse might have been Jacques or Redfeather
for all that she knew.

Immediately after this there was heard the sound of a fiddle, and an old
Canadian was led to the upper end of the room, placed on a chair, and
hoisted, by the powerful arms of Jacques and Louis, upon a table. In
this conspicuous position the old man seemed to be quite at his ease.
He spent a few minutes in bringing his instrument into perfect tune;
then looking round with a mild, patronising glance to see that the
dancers were ready, he suddenly struck up a Scotch reel with an amount
of energy, precision, and spirit th