heart and soul, had exchanged pledges with her, and had brought matters to so serious a pass, that the proud father determined to put the young adventurer quietly and courteously out of sight: the doing so he took to be a better and more fatherly course than the institution of a family quarrel. That his Maria should become Mrs. Tasman, he knew very well, was not for a moment to be thought of. Whoever won his daughter must have wealth and a patent of nobility. She was no fit mate for a poor sailor. Tasman, however, could be easily dismissed from dangling after her. The Batavian traders had at that time a vague notion that there was a vast continent, an unknown austral land, somewhere near the south pole; and Van Diemen determined to send Tasman out to see about it. If he never came back it would not matter; but, at any rate, he would be certainly a long time gone. Van Diemen therefore fitted out an expedition, and gave the command of it to young Tasman. Off the young fellow set, in the year 1642, and, like an enamoured swain as he was, the first new ground he discovered -a considerable stretch of land, now forming a very well known English colony-he named after his dear love, Van Diemen's Land, and put Miss Van Diemen's Christian name beside her patronymic, by giving the name of Maria to a small adjoining island close to the south-eastern extremity of the new land. That land, Van Diemen's Land, we have of late begun very generally to call after its discoverer, Tasmania. Continuing his journey southward, the young sailor anchored his ships, on the 18th of December, in a sheltered bay, which he called Moodenare's (Murderer's) Bay, because the natives there attacked his ships and killed three of his men. Travelling on, he reaches, after some days, the islands which he called after the Three Kings, because he saw them on the feast of the Epiphany; * and then, coming upon New Zealand The Epiphany is a church festival, celebrated on the 6th of January, the twelfth day after Christmas. The Three Kings are the wise men who came to visit the infant Saviour. from the north, he called it, in a patriotic way, after the states of Holland, Staten Land; but the extreme northern point of it, a fine bold headland jutting out into the sea, strong as his love, he entitled again Cape Maria; for he had gone out resolved not indeed to "carve her name on trunks of trees," but to do his mistress the same sort of honor in a way that would be nobler, manlier, and more enduring. After a long and prosperous voyage, graced by one or two more discoveries, Tasman came back to Batavia. He had more than earned his wife, for he had won for himself sudden and high renown, court favor, rank, and fortune. Governor Van Diemen acquired a famous son-in-law, and the married life of the lovers glided happily away, with no more crosses in its path. Tasman did not make another journey to New Zealand; it remained unvisited until 1769, when it was rediscovered by Captain Cook, who very quickly recognized it as a portion of the land that had been first seen by the love-lorn sailor. XXXV.-A CHASE. MISS COOPER. WITHIN twenty years from the foundation of the village, the deer had already become rare, and in a brief period later they had fled from the country. One of the last of these beautiful creatures seen in the waters of our lake occasioned a chase of much interest, though under very different circumstances from those of a regular hunt. A pretty little fawn had been brought in very young from the woods, and nursed and petted by a lady in the village, until it had become as tame as possible. It was graceful as those little creatures always are, and so gentle and playful that it became a great favorite, following the different members of the family about, caressed by the neighbors, and welcome every where. One morning, after gambolling about as usual until weary it threw itself down in the sunshine, at the feet of one of its friends, upon the steps of a store. There came along a countryman, who for several years had been a hunter by pursuit, and who still kept several dogs; one of his hounds came to the village with him on this occasion. The dog, as it approached the spot where the fawn lay, suddenly stopped; the little animal saw him and started to his feet. It had lived more than half its life among the dogs of the village, and had apparently lost all fear of them; but it seemed now to know instinctively that an enemy was at hand. In an instant, a change came over it, and the gentleman who related the incident, and who was standing by at the moment, observed that he had never in his life seen a finer sight than the sudden arousing of instinct in the beautiful creature. In a second, its whole character and appearance seemed changed; all its past habits were forgotten; every wild impulse was awake; its head erect, its nostrils dilated, its eye flashing. In another instant, before the spectators had thought of the danger, before its friends could secure it, the fawn was leaping wildly through the street, and the hound in full pursuit. The bystanders were eager to save it; several persons instantly followed its track; the friends who had long fed and fondled it calling the name it had hitherto known, but in vain. The hunter endeavored to whistle back his dog, but with no better success. In half a minute, the fawn had turned the first corner, dashed onward towards the lake, and thrown itself into the water. But if for a moment the startled creature believed itself safe in the cool bosom of the lake, it was soon undeceived; the hound followed in hot and eager chase, while a dozen of the village dogs joined wildly in the pursuit. Quite a crowd collected on the bank,-men, women, and children,anxious for the fate of the little animal known to them all; some threw themselves into boats, hoping to intercept the hound before he reached his prey; but the plashing of the oars, the eager voices of the men and boys, and the barking of the dogs, must have filled the beating heart of the poor fawn with terror and anguish, as though every creature on the spot where it had once been caressed and fondled had suddenly turned into a deadly foe. It was soon seen that the little animal was directing its course across a bay towards the nearest borders of the forest; and immediately the owner of the hound crossed the bridge, running at full speed in the same direction, hoping to stop his dog as he landed. On the fawn swam, as it never swam before; its delicate head scarce seen above the water, but leaving a disturbed track, which betrayed its course alike to friends and enemies. As it approached the land the exciting interest became intense. The hunter was already on the same line of shore, calling loudly and angrily to his dog; but the animal seemed to have quite forgotten his master's voice in the pitiless pursuit. The fawn touched the land; in one leap it had crossed the narrow line of beach, and in another instant it would reach the cover of the woods. The hound followed, true to the scent, aiming at the same spot on shore; his master, anxious to meet him, had run at full speed, and was now coming up at the most critical moment. Would the dog hearken to his voice, or could the hunter reach him in time to seize and control him? A shout from the village bank proclaimed that the fawn had passed out of sight into the forest; at the same instant, the hound, as he touched the land, felt the hunter's strong arm clutching his neck. The worst was believed to be over: the fawn was leaping up the mountain side, and its enemy under restraint. The other dogs, seeing their leader cowed, were easily managed. A number of persons, men and boys, dispersed themselves through the woods in search of the little creature, but without success; they all returned to the village, reporting that the animal had not been seen by them. Some persons thought that after the fright had passed over it would return of its own accord. It had worn a pretty collar, with its owner's name engraved upon it, so that it could easily be known from any other fawn that might be straying about the woods. Before many hours had passed, a hunter presented himself to the lady whose pet the little creature had been, and showing a collar with her name on it, said that he had been out in the woods, and saw a fawn in the distance; the little animal, instead of bounding away as he had expected, moved towards him; he took aim, fired, and shot it to the heart. When he found the collar about its neck he was very sorry that he had killed it. And so the poor little thing died; one would have thought that terrible chase would have made it afraid of man; but no, it forgot the evil and remembered the kindness only, and came to meet as a friend the hunter who shot it. It was long mourned by its best friend. XXXVI.-AFAR IN THE DESERT. PRINGLE. [THOMAS PRINGLE was born in Roxburghshire, in Scotland, in 1788, and died in 1834. He passed some years in South Africa. He wrote a narrative of his residence in that country, and published two volumes of poems. He also wrote much for periodical publications, and was for some time editor of the annual called Friendship's Offering His writings have much merit, and his character was benevolent and energetic.] AFAR in the desert I love to ride, With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side, |