upon the slippery surface and slid to the bottom with fearful speed, the pack he had upon his shoulders producing the clattering sound as he went. Before I had time to comprehend what had happened I felt my own feet to be yielding again, and before I could recover myself I too was down, and on the same rapid journey the Doctor had taken before me. IV. acter of the place into which we had so undesignedly fallen But the scrutiny failed to bring much comfort. As nearly as I could tell from where I sat, the spot we had chosen for the descent was the only accessible one in the cañon; the whole of the opposite wall within view was nearly vertical; a hundred yards below, the cañon turned abruptly to the left, and at the angle thus formed was so extremely narrow that the stream filled the entire space between the walls and became a rushing torrent; upward both walls became vertical and increased in height very perceptibly. We were in a trap, there could be no doubt about it. When this became clear there suddenly flashed across my vision an imaginary but very probable scene in the years to come, when some exploring party should light upon this cañon, and stumbling over the whitened bones of our remains, almost so to speak, in the bowels of the earth, they would carefully gather them together, bear them swiftly out of the gloomy, dismal place where they had been found, to one of the great relic repositories of the nation, ALIGHTED upon my feet, very fortunately, on a strip of gravel which ran along the margin of the tumultuous little stream, and beyond being somewhat shaken and stunned, I was little the worse for the mishap. I had fallen a little distance from the Doctor, and as soon as I recovered myself I proceeded to where he was lying, a horrid fear gathering around my heart as I observed how still and white he looked. He was lying prone upon his face he had evidently pitched forward after he struck the bottom-where sallow-visaged savants would speedily with an ugly gash, from which blood was oozing, cut in his forehead. He was quite unconscious, and only for a slight fluttering around his heart I might have thought him dead. Raising him in my arms I carried him to the edge of the stream, where I bathed and bandaged his cut temple, and then attempted, by the usual method, to bring him back to consciousness. I laboured for a long time without any result-so long that my heart sank within me for fear he was past all help. But at length my efforts proved successful, and I was overjoyed to see him slowly open his eyes. His recovery, however, was slower than I was prepared to see. He lay motionless, his head resting upon my knee hour after hour, until the afternoon was far advanced; his eyes were open, though he saw nothing, his lips moved slightly at long intervals, but I could catch no articulate sounds from them. I had sat thus since the accident, not daring to move, fearful lest the slightest disturbance might forever extinguish the slight flickerings of life there remained to him. As the sun moved over towards the west and threw his rays against the top of the opposite wall, lighting up for a few moments the sombre granite, I was enabled to examine the char affix labels to them, assigning my poor friend and myself as belonging to some far distant geological epoch which had been buried ages before the dawn of history. This likely fate was not very cheering under the circumstances, though probably the precarious condition of my companion did more towards influencing the depressed and anxious feeling in my mind which afterwards succeeded. It was nearly dark down in those depths ere the Doctor showed signs of re-animation. At last he moved slightly, and spoke a word or two, inquiring what had happened? I asked him if he was in much pain? He answered by slowly moving his arm and pointing to his right side with a grimace which was very expressive. What was to be done? The Doctor could not be moved-even if I succeeded in finding a path leading to the upper air-for many days. Our provisions were very low and would not last above a day or two, and we should be in imminent danger of starving if our stay were prolonged. I clearly saw there was no hope for us, unless we could attract the attention of some wandering miner who might be passing along the margin of the cañon above. Yet I imagined there would be little probability of that, as we were in an almost unknown region to which the miners had not penetrated, as far as I could tell. Raising the Doctor again in my arms, as tenderly as I could, though with all my care the movement seemed to give him infinite pain, I bore him to a little alcove which had been scooped out from the side of the wall, evidently by the action of water, and laid him down, covering his body with my serape to protect him from the dampness and chill air, and then left him for a few moments to gather some drift-wood which I had perceived deposited along the edge of the water, as I had resolved to kindle a fire to dispel the gloom and impart some warmth to our chilled limbs. Before I was half through with the task I heard the Doctor's voice over the sounds of the waters, calling me. Dropping quickly the wood I had collected, I hurried to his side, under the impression that he had missed me and was wondering where I had gone. Bending over him, I inquired if he wanted me? Not heeding in the least, rolling impatiently to and fro, he continued at short intervals to call in a low, mournful cadence, which, in the impenetrable gloom of the alcove, sounded inexpressibly sad. I knew at once the injuries he had received had affected his brain. Abandoning now the idea of the fire, I sank down by the side of my poor friend, taking his burning hands within my own, trying as best I could to quiet his ravings, which were violent at times, and praying that the hours might fly quickly until morning. I felt sad and helpless; I would willingly have risked my own life to have afforded him relief, but what relief could I bring? What sacrifice could I make? Penned up a thousand feet below the surface, miles from human aid, I was utterly and absolutely helpless. Indeed had San Francisco been within half a mile of the cañon's brink it could have made little difference, for without wings nothing human could rise out of that abyss to the world above. Yet I felt dissatisfied and ill at ease to enact so inconsiderable a part as I was obliged to do. During that vigil in the lonely cañon a revelation was made to me-a revelation so unexpected and strange as to cause me almost to doubt its actual occurrence and attribute it to some vagary of my own mind under the influence of approaching illness rather than to veritable reality. Yet the events of its disclosure are too deeply graven upon my memory for me to entertain a doubt about its having taken place, though the very character of it might well cause me to question the evidence of my senses. For some hours the Doctor had talked incessantly, though not intelligibly as a rule, often jumbling words of the most opposite meanings together so that no sense could be made of them whatever; at other times he had intermingled some episode of our camp life with other scenes of which I knew nothing, making a curious medley. At length, however, it suddenly occurred to me that his disjointed sentences were approaching a coherency as strange as it was inexplicable. In order to give you a complete understanding of what the nature of this was, I shall be obliged to revert to an incident which took place many years ago in Bristol, some time before I came to this country. My father had but two children, myself and my brother Henry, who was some eight years my junior and as wild a lad as could be found, though withal generous and goodnatured. Our mother having died shortly after Henry's birth, we were sent to an aunt who resided at Glastonbury, to be taken care of, and the homestead at Bristol was given up. Our father visited us once a month, though rarely staying above a day or so, owing to the pressing requirements of his business in Bristol. Our aunt being an easygoing, good-hearted soul, with far more affection than brains, allowed us to do pretty much as we pleased, and, I suppose, thoroughly spoiled us, for when our father again married, and we were recalled home, one of us was eternally in some scrape or another. Henry, being younger and of a livelier disposition than myself, was the more frequent delinquent. One day, Henry, by some foolishness or other, brought upon himself from our father a severe reproof which he thought was undeserved, and he consequently retorted in a sufficiently rash and inconsiderate tone, I fear, whereupon he was instantly ejected from the house, and told never to show his face there again. Henry, being a proud, high-spirited boy, did go, and thenceforward never showed his face within the precincts of home. A few weeks after, we heard he had taken passage for New York in a vessel from Liverpool, and a year afterwards a letter came from that city, penned by a stranger, telling that my brother had met with an untoward deathhad been shot at a brawl in a saloon. Soon after Henry's departure my stepmother died without issue, and my father soon followed her, after the receipt of the news respecting Henry, and I thought I was left alone in the world without kith or kin, as my aunt was then dead too. some lady, I thought, for whose favours my brother and the Doctor were rivals-hence the eagerness to have a pick at him? But stay! might not my brother and the Doctor be one and the same individual? If so, he must have been addressing himself in the third person. Still the inference had good grounds. I thought this, however, too good to be true. To have made a mistake would have been terrible. All doubt upon the point, was, however, soon swept away by what followed-every word I shall remember all my life, for they are carved on my memory with letters of fire. They were the last my brother had spoken to me before he left England. Turning again, slightly and painfully, the injured man clearly and distinctly articulated the following words: "Reginald, never grieve for me when I am gone, for I shall do better away from home, but do not forget me.' These words had been ringing in my ears for ten years, mournfully enough. Great Heaven! this must be Henry himself revelation bewildered me--Henry alive and So minutely and truthfully did the Doctor detail the part which Henry had taken in this domestic drama, that I could scarcely believe my ears, and was petrified with astonishment. From whom had he heard this? Not from me, for I had not breathed it to living soul. Surely not from Henry himself, for he was not a likely one to tell of his disgrace. Then from whom? I was lost in wonder and could not conjecture farther-it was an enigma beyond my powers to solve. The Doctor had obtained the history from some source or another, and had related it in his delirium, that was an indisputable fact, and one that staggered me. However, a few moments after, the injured man wandered off-there could be no doubt about it. The to another theme, which appeared to be, although somewhat confused, a reminiscence of some bygone painful period of his life. He pictured at first an angry sea, whose high, storm-crested waves rose on every side to the horizon; then came the terrors of a wreck -the insane rush for the boats, the tumultuous crowding and shouting while the boats were being manned and loaded with their terror-stricken freight; then the tossing in the over-laden boat with the breakers dashing over it; then a long pause; then again, in a softened, pitiful tone, he called a wo. man's name called it over and over again with a pathos that drew the tears from my eyes. Then another pause and some uneasy turning before taking a fresh start, which began in an entirely different tone--a sort of self-congratulatory chuckle. "Who will know Henry Harland? Ha, ha! Do they think of him at home? I guess not he was always a wild dog-it was good riddance you knowbut he will go back some day-rich! With Marie and plenty of money. Then they'll wish they hadn't turned him away--poor Marie! she must be very lonely," and he came to a halt with almost a sob. What was this? Henry Harland? What reason had the poor wandering wretch beside me to laugh and chuckle over my poor brother's disgrace? And who was this Marie? Doubtless When I had recovered from the bewilderment sufficiently to realize what had happened, I cared to hearken to nothing farther. I was filled with one exultant idea aloneHenry was alive and near me, and my heart went out to him, as hearts only can when they welcome back near friends, as from that far off and unknown shore laved by the dark river of death. I lay upon the granite bed beside him, and enfolding him in my arms, breathed a prayer of thankfulness to God for what He had restored. Soon after, poor Henry grew quieter, and did not move or speak for a long time. During this interval, I lay thinking over the disclosure, and planning in a feverish sort of way many schemes to scale the cañon's walls, all of which I doubt not would have proved futile upon trial. I could not conceal from myself the painful fact that there was little chance of any other alternative than to die together; yet hope was strong, and I eagerly awaited the dawn to make some desperate attempt for Henry's sake. Our evil star, however, was still in the ascendant, and the almost hopelessness of our position was to be still further increased. Several times during the preceding twentyfour hours I had been admonished by certain signs, of approaching illness, but trust ing it would pass by I had paid little heed. Towards morning, however, I grew rapidly worse, and before the sun rose over the outer world, fever had seized me in its burning folds, and I writhed upon my hard bed in agony. After bearing this excruciating torment until I could bear it no longer, nature happily relieved me, and to the throbbing temple, fierce thirst, and racking pains, there succeeded an interval of quiet, in which the gurgle of the river and gloom of the cañon were intermingled with the sunshine and pleasant voices of home. At length these too faded away, and I knew no more. WH V. HEN I came back to consciousness, it was a long time ere I could muster sufficient energy to think. The world and all its sorrows and cares seemed to be an infinite distance away, buried in the forgotten past, and from which I was forever alienated. In a dreamy, half-stupid languor, begotten of extreme weakness, I lay for hours revelling with fancies ethereally light, which came and departed without an effort of volition. I existed, and I was conscious of the fact, but it was a mere passive existence, expressive of nei ther pain nor pleasure. Sometimes dim forms hovered over or near me, but I possessed no interest in them-I did not desire a nearer acquaintance; I was all in all to myself I only wanted to lie quiet. Óften, in severe struggles for the mastery with disease, the physical powers are left so inert and exhausted, that the patient lies midway between life and death, so that the mere weight of a feather almost, of advantage, will turn the scale either one way or the other. I was left by the fever in just that condition. For the time being it was a drawn battle, neither side having won the victory. Gradually, however, my naturally sound con stitution prevailed, and I drifted slowly back once more to the world. Towards evening of the day of my convalescence, I opened my eyes, and became for the first time during a fortnight, cognizant of things mundane. The first object that met my view was a mild, benignant-looking, elderly lady clad in dark garments, who stood close by my couch, watching me. As she saw I was conscious, she said gently, with a slight Spanish accent: "You feel better, Señor. I am very glad;" and signing me not to answer, she turned and silently left the apartment. I did not recollect then the circumstances which had happened in the cañon, nor had I the remotest idea as to where I was, or how I had been succoured. My eyes, with weary lassitude, wandered from object to object which the room contained, but as everything was strange and unfamiliar, I was fain to close them again. I knew nothing of those heavy, black, queerly carved pieces of furniture placed about the room, nor of that effigy of the dead Christ with the crucifix beneath it, nor of the dark, rich hangings at the end of the apartment- no, these were not old acquaintances, but were part of a long dream that would close by and by, and leave me where it began. Everything the room contained was old and sombre, and had evidently seen better days. The apartment itself was low, void of ornament, and lighted from one window, which opened to the west and let in the last melancholy glory of sunset. The hangings parted after a short space, and the ladya gain appeared. She said, in her broken English and gentle manner, I was not to talk or disturb myself, and I would soon be better. I had been very ill, she went on, and for two days she had despaired of my life; but the fever took a turn then, and henceforth I began to mend. After saying this, she continued silent until she again departed. I was attended all through my illness by this lady-the widow of a Spanish gentleman as I afterward learned—and had I been her brother, rather than a forlorn, helpless stranger, she could not have been more kind, or more attentive to my wants. When I was sufficiently recovered to bear the recital, she informed me that I was then at a ranche on the banks of one of the tribu dences enough that a party of miners had been at work there, and had turned over the bottom of a dry river-bed for nearly two hundred yards. It was very probable that some of these miners, when prospecting, had wandered down the lateral cañon to the main one, and entering that, and following its windings some distance, had lighted upon Henry and taries of the San Joaquin River, and that I had been carried thither by a party of rough miners, who entreated that I should be cared for and have medical attendance, or the fever would soon carry me off, offering to pay any price if consent would only be given. She promised them she would do all she could for me, stating at the same time, that the only medical attendant I could have was herself, for the only doctor in the neighbour-myself at a most critical moment. But where hood had gone to the diggings. This kindness on her part seemed to give them vast relief, and one man as he was leaving, in his gratitude, threw down a heavy bag of golddust, saying it was for my expenses. were these miners now, and where was Henry? I searched the neighbourhood in every direction, but could obtain no tidings of them-they had all departed. After leaving this spot, unsuccessful in my search, I visited every mining camp, I bebelieve, in California, in succession, without hearing aught of Henry or those who had so opportunely come to our assistance. They had disappeared as utterly as if the earth She could tell me, however, little about them; they had not told her where they longed, or when they would return-they only mentioned that they had come a long way down the mountains. Although eager to be gone, to revisit the cañon, and ascertain, if possible, what had become of Henry, I bade farewell to my kind hostess with regret. She had fulfilled her promise well. I went first to Grizzly Bear Mines, where Henry and I had worked for nearly a year, unsuspecting our close relationship, and then started alone over the same tract of country we had traversed in company two months previously, until I arrived at the cañon into which we had fallen. Retracing our track along the margin, I soon came to the spot where we had commenced our descent, and looking over the brink, I saw no signs of the miners, or indeed anything living. There were the same gloomy depths-the same quiet gurgle of the stream below, as if the dark abyss had never been disturbed since the creation. Knowing that there must of necessity be an easy path somewhere, leading down to its bottom, or I could never have been carried from thence, I proceeded farther up the slope towards the mountains, for some distance, until I reached a lateral cañon, which entered the one I had been following, at right angles. The mystery was solved. Turning to the left, and following the new one for about half a mile up, I came to a spot where it was practicable to get down. The lateral cañon, although just as deep and abrupt at the point of confluence with the other, was here not more than two hundred feet in depth, with gently sloping sides. Going eagerly to the bottom, I found evi had swallowed them up. * * When I saw that farther search was useless, I started once more to digging, and being very successful, lighting upon several very rich placers, I felt myself, in a comparatively short time, to be in a position to return home. While on my way-as you know I returned via Panama and New York— I searched Sacramento and San Francisco, very loth to leave the country without learning something of Henry. But it was all futile, and I gave up the quest, and went on board the steamer which was to carry me away. In due time I learned what God had in store for me, and, with almost a broken heart, I proceeded to fulfil the duty which I had deemed urgent enough to cause me in the beginning to start for the land of gold ; and then I purchased this property on the banks of the river, far away from the bustle and noise and tumult of the busy town, and taking you, my child, we have lived a peaceful and quiet life since. Nothing farther was heard of my brother Henry as the years rolled on, and I was almost beginning to believe the episode of the cañon to have been a mere chimera, when you directed my attention to a Dr. Henry Harland's advertisement in a St. Louis paper, which your husband had received. once that Henry was found. The answer which came to my letter of inquiry corroborated this, and my long-lost brother will be here, thank God, to-night or to-morrow. I felt at The old man ceased, and remained for |