the
gentle tenderness of a mother, she found means to make him
swallow the restoratives she had brought.

No black eyes in the world, be they of France, Italy, or even
of Spain, can speak more plainly of kindness, than the large
deep-set orbs of a squaw; this is a language that all nations
can understand, and the poor Frenchman read most clearly, in
the anxious glance of his gentle nurse, that he should not die
forsaken.

So far the story is romantic enough, and what follows is hardly
less so. The squaw found means to introduce her white friend to
her tribe; he was adopted as their brother, speedily acquired
their language, and assumed their dress and manner of life. His
gratitude to his preserver soon ripened into love, and if the
chronicle spoke true, the French noble and the American savage
were more than passing happy as man and wife, and it was not till
he saw himself the father of many thriving children that the
exile began to feel a wish of rising again from savage to
civilized existence.

My historian did not explain what his project was in visiting
New York, but he did so in the habit of an Indian, and learnt
enough of the restored tranquillity of his country to give him
hope that some of the broad lands he had left there might be
restored to him.

I have made my story already too long, and must not linger upon
it farther than to say that his hopes were fulfilled, and that,
of a large and flourishing family, some are settled in France,
and some remain in America, (one of these, I understood, was a
lawyer at New York), while the hero and the heroine of the tale
continue to inhabit the Oneida country, not in a wigwam, however,
but in a good house, in a beautiful situation, with all the
comforts of civilized life around them.

Such was the narrative we listened to, from a stage coach
companion; and it appears to me sufficiently interesting to
repeat, though I have no better authority to quote for its
truth, than the assertion of this unknown traveller.

CHAPTER 34

Return to New York--Conclusion

The comfortable Adelphi Hotel again received us at Albany, on the
14th of June, and we decided upon passing the following day
there, both to see the place, and to recruit our strength, which
we began to feel we had taxed severely by a very fatiguing
journey, in most oppressively hot weather. It would have been
difficult to find a better station for repose; the rooms were
large and airy, and ice