pon that particular portion of his life, he became gloomy
and abstracted, as if still under the influence of former indelible
impressions. Undoubtedly Captain Finn is of a strong poetical
temperament, and any one on hearing him narrate would say the same; but
it is supposed that when the captain performed this first solitary
excursion, his brain was affected by an excited and highly poetical
imagination. After eleven months of solitude, he reached the Pacific
Ocean, and awoke from his long illusion in the middle of a people whose
language he could not understand; yet they were men of his colour, kind
and hospitable; they gave him jewels and gold, and sent him back east of
the mountains, under the protection of some simple and mild-hearted
savages. The spot where Finn had arrived was at one of the missions,
and those who released him and sent him back were the good monks of one
of the settlements in Upper California.

When Finn returned to the Mississippi, his narrative was so much blended
with strange and marvellous stories, that it was not credited; but when
he showed and produced his stock of gold dust in bladders, and some
precious stones, fifty different proposals were made to him to guide a
band of greedy adventurers to the new western Eldorado. Finn, like
Boone, could not bear the society of his own countrymen; he dreaded to
hear the noise of their axes felling the beautiful trees; he feared
still more to introduce them, like so many hungry wolves, among the good
people who knew so well the sacred rites of hospitality.

After a short residence with the old back-woodsman, Finn returned to
Virginia, just in time to close the eyes of the kind old Quaker. He
found that his old friend had expected his return for he had sold all
his property, and deposited the amount in the hands of a safe banker, to
be kept for Finn's benefit. The young wanderer was amazed; he had now
ten thousand dollars, but what could he do with so much money? He
thought of a home, of love and happiness, of the daughter of old Boone,
and he started off to present her with his newly-acquired wealth. Finn
entered Boone's cottage, with his bags and pocket-books in each hand,
and casting his burden into a corner, he entered at once upon the
matter.

"Why, I say, old man, I am sure I love the gal."

"She is a comely and kind girl," said the father.

"I wish she could love me."

"She does."

"Does she? well, I tell you what, Boone, give he