rl, and alone in the world; but God
loves you, and will make you happy. He is a Father to the fatherless,
and the Friend of the destitute, and to them that have no helper."

The words of kindness and love need no interpretation; no book-learning
is necessary to make them understood. The young, the old, the deaf, the
dumb, the blind, can read this universal language; its very silence is
often more eloquent than words--the gentle pressure of the hand, the
half-echoed sigh, the look of sympathy will penetrate to the very heart,
and unlock its hidden stores of human tenderness and love. The rock
is smitten and the waters gush forth, a bright and living stream, to
refresh and fertilize the thirsty soul. The heart of the poor mourner
was touched; she bowed down her head upon the hand that held her so
kindly in its sisterly grasp, and wept soft sweet human tears full of
grateful love, while she whispered, in her own low plaintive voice, "My
white sister, I kiss you in my heart; I will love the God of my white
brothers, and be his child."

The two friends now busied themselves in preparing the evening meal:
they found Louis and Hector had lighted up a charming blaze on the
desolate hearth. A few branches of cedar twisted together by Catharine,
made a serviceable broom, with which she swept the floor, giving to the
deserted dwelling a neat and comfortable aspect; some big stones were
quickly rolled in, and made to answer for seats in the chimney corner.
The new-found fishing-line was soon put into requisition by Louis, and
with very little delay a fine dish of black bass, broiled on the coals,
was added to their store of dried venison and roasted bread-roots,
which they found in abundance on a low spot on the island. Grapes and
butternuts which Hector cracked with stones by way of nut-crackers,
finished their sylvan meal. The boys stretched themselves to sleep on
the ground, with their feet, Indian fashion, to the fire; while the two
girls occupied the mossy couch which they had newly spread with fragrant
cedar and hemlock boughs.

The next island that claimed their attention was Sugar-Maple Island,
_[FN: Sugar Island, a charming object from the picturesque cottage
of Alfred Hayward, Esq.]_ a fine, thickly-wooded island, rising with
steep rocky banks from the water. A beautiful object, but too densely
wooded to admit of our party penetrating beyond a few yards of its
shores.

The next island they named the Beaver, _[FN: The