esidence with the old backwoodsman, 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 her to me, I'll try to
make her happy."

"I will, but not yet," said the venerable patriarch. "Why, you are both
of you mere children; she can't get a house, and how could you
support her?"

Finn jumped up with pride and glee. "Look," said he, while he scattered
on the floor his bank-notes, his gold, and silver, "that will support
her bravely; tell me, old father, that will keep her snug, won't it?"

The pioneer nodded his head. "Finn," answered he, "you are a good young
man, and I like you; you think like me; you love Polly, and Polly loves
you; mind, you shall have her when you are both old enough; but
remember, my son, neither your pieces of money nor your rags of paper
will ever keep a daughter of mine. No, no! you shall have Polly, but you
must first know how to use the rifle and the axe."

A short time after this interview, Finn started upon another trip to
unknown lands, leaving old Boone to make the most he could of his money.
Now, the old pioneer, although a bold hunter, and an intrepid warrior,
was a mere child in matters of interest, and in less than two months he
had lost the whole deposit, the only "gentleman" he ever trusted having
suddenly disappeared with the funds. In the meanwhile Finn had gone down
the Mississippi, to the thirty-second degree of north latitude, when,
entering the western swamps, where no white man had ever penetrated, he
forced his way to the Red River, which he reached a little above the old
French establishment of Nachitoches. Beyond this point, inland
navigation had never been attempted, and Finn, procuring a