I will now silently pass over the space of three months, and leave the reader to follow in imagination the adventures of our hero in the Red River Expedition;—and as an essential character in the sequel of this story I will now take the liberty of introducing myself.

On a fine afternoon about the middle of September, 1870, I arrived at Kingston, Ontario, and took lodgings at the "City Hotel," where I intended to remain for a few days. I was then on a tour selling a poetical work which I had written, entitled: "The Canadian Minstrel." After tea, that evening, I stepped up stairs to the sitting-room, and sat down to write a letter to my friends at home. Shortly afterwards, and while seated there alone, a young man entered the room.

"I beg pardon, sir; I hope I'm not intruding," he exclaimed very politely as he entered.

"No, not in the least, sir," said I. He then walked over to the sofa, and pulling out a newspaper from his pocket, sat down and began to peruse it. I resumed my pen; and when finished with my letter, I addressed him somewhat familiarly, and we entered into conversation, chiefly about the war which was then being carried on between France and Prussia. He was apparently intelligent; and although slightly reticent at first, became gradually more conversive and familiar.

He appeared to be about 25 years of age, tall, and somewhat slender in figure; of keen a nervous temperament; with hair and moustache of a brownish color: features slightly prominent and very expressive. He was courteous in manners, and in general appearance, genteel and good-looking. His style of conversing was agreeable; his arguments pointed and logical; and his remarks, full of sympathetic sentiment, apparently the breathings of an impulsive moral nature. His countenance, although naturally expressive of energy, appeared slightly shadowed by an expression of sadness. Even in his manner and conversation there was a peculiar indication of deep thoughtfulness, tinged with melancholy. Respecting his own history he said nothing, nor did he ask anything about mine. I was however much interested in his company, and although strangers to each other, we passed a very pleasant evening together.

At breakfast on the following morning he sat directly opposite to me. We saluted each other in a friendly manner, and occasionally exchanged a few sentences. Shortly after we had retired from the table he came forward and addressed me.

"I shall bid you good bye, friend, for the present," said he, apparently in readiness to depart.

"And so you are going to leave," said I. "I'm sorry I had not the pleasure of a longer acquaintance with you."

"I leave for Toronto, where I shall remain a week or two. Should you be there shortly, please call at the 'Metropolitan Hotel,' and ask for me, I shall be happy to see you," said he, handing me a card with his name thereon.

"Thank you, sir, I will be happy to do so," said I: and having heartily shaken hands together as a mutual token of courtesy and good-will, he departed.

As I was desirous of attending the Annual Provincial Show, to be held at Toronto during the first week of October following, I passed all the intermediate towns on the line of railway, and arrived in that city a few days previous.

The evening after my arrival I strolled over to the Metropolitan to see the stranger referred to. He recognized me at once, and was apparently happy to see me. Although our previous acquaintance had been incidental and but of short duration, we felt on meeting again as if we had been old friends. He invited me to the sitting room; and we passed a few very agreeable hours together. On leaving I requested him to spend the following evening with me at the hotel at which I was staying. He complied therewith; and during his further stay of one week in the city our interviews were of daily occurrence.

During the following week the city was crowded to its utmost capacity; and the streets presented a gay and lively appearance, owing to the great influx of visitors to the Exhibition. In company with my friend I visited the "Show Grounds." Every department of the Arts and Agriculture, &c., were well represented, showing the vast progress and developments of the Province of Ontario.

The day of the closing of the Exhibition my friend specially invited me to his room to spend the evening. During our previous interviews he had said but little respecting himself. I noticed, however, that something was deeply affecting his mind; and that he was apparently desirous of making it known to me. But it was not until this evening that he, in compliance with my wishes, gave me the history of his past career: the greater part of which is narrated in the foregoing chapters of this story: the remainder I will now give in his own words; for, gentle reader, be it known that this person was none other than Frederick Charlston, with whom you are already acquainted.

"During the first part of the journey to Red River," said he, "I endured the hardships and fatigues tolerably well; but the encamping out every night upon the cold earth: the incessant labor; the hard marches over a rough road, and under a broiling sun, at length became too oppressive. Oftentimes I felt, as it were, unable to proceed a step further; but my proud spirit with a stern determination of will, exerted every possible energy, and I continued day after day to plod along with my foot-sore and way-worn companions. Our fatigues were however occasionally relieved by a general rest for a few days. But before one third of the journey had been completed I was seized one night with a severe attack of illness.

"The day had been excessively hot; the commander wishing to get forward that evening to certain grounds favorable for one week's encampment had recourse to what might be termed a forced march. Many of the soldiers suffered from the effects thereof; I was prostrated at once by a severe billious attack, accompanied with chills and fever, and also diarrhea; and when the companies resumed their march, I was unable to proceed with them.

"The evening previous to the general move the doctor made a special visit to my tent.

"'My young friend,' said he, as he entered, 'I have come to leave you some medicine as I must move with the army at an early hour to-morrow morning. Your health, although progressing rapidly, will not permit you to undertake the journey, at least for one week. However, you will be provided with necessaries, &c. The Captain has appointed a couple of honest Indians to remain and take care of you: and who will serve as guides when you are ready to depart. But my special injunction is—"Take good care of yourself," otherwise you will never reach Red River.'

"'Indeed, doctor, I'm afraid I shall never be able to resume the journey,' said I.

"'It would have been much better for you had you not undertaken it at first.'

"'Experience teaches fools,' I exclaimed.

"'Yes, and the wisest of wise men too,' added the doctor, with a sly wink.

"'I regret very much the course I have taken,' said I; 'I am now suffering the experience of my reckless folly. Were it possible to have an opportunity of living my past years over again agreeably to my wishes, I assure you, doctor, I would never make a second journey to Canada, nor go to Red River either; I would make England my home for ever. However, since I have undertaken this exodus, I hope I shall be able to complete it.'

"'It is my opinion,' said the doctor, 'that your physical constitution, inexperienced as it has been to a life like this, will not be able to stand the fatigues; and even after a month's rest, I dread the consequences, as the hardships yet to be endured are tenfold greater than those you have undergone.'

"'Then what shall I do, doctor? Must I live and die alone in this wilderness?' said I.

"'Under the present circumstances, I think,' said he, 'your resignation will be immediately accepted. If so remain here for the present under charge of your attendants. In the course of a week or so, a gang of Indians will pass here on their way to Thunder Bay for provisions. They can convey you a great portion of the way by canoe; thence you can effect your course back to Toronto, or to England if you choose, much easier indeed than going the remainder of the journey to Red River.'

"'Well doctor,' said I, 'I shall comply with your orders.'

"'Then I shall attend to the matter at once,' said the doctor, and immediately withdrew. In about an hour afterwards he returned, accompanied with several officers. The doctor's request was acquiesced with, and I received my discharge. The commander on leaving placed $30 in my hand, wishing me better health and a safe journey back to Toronto. No sooner had they left than I began to breathe more freely the air of liberty. I felt like a prisoner when liberated from his shackled bonds. I was no longer a mercenary. I was indeed exalted above the ranks, and felt myself once more as a man:—And wherefore, may I ask? Let my spirit echo the answer.

"The novelty and the romance of adventure had lost their charms. Military glory had faded under the stern reality of circumstances. Sickness had dimmed the ardor of my soul. Home-longings had clustered around my heart: and I then felt as it were for the time being a happiness in disappointment, and an independence in my liberty.

"My companions were indeed sorry to part with me: and before leaving presented me with many tokens of their affections. I felt the loneliness of a saddened heart when they were gone. The Indians were however kind, and faithful in their duties towards me. Under their care my health and vigor improved rapidly; so much so, that I felt sufficiently able to go with the returning Indians to Thunder Bay. I stood the travel much better than I anticipated. On the 27th day of August I arrived safely in this city, but much exhausted by the fatigues of the journey.

"Alas! thought I. What a change of prospects! What a revulsion in circumstances! I left here as a proud follower of Mars, clothed in scarlet and fine linen like the Kings of Babylon, and blowing up the tinsel'd bubble of military glory, amid the beating of drums, the blowing of trumpets, and the cheers of an excited populace. But alas! I returned in silence, as a simple man of experience, covered in sackcloth, exhausted in body, disappointed in mind, without friends, without a home, and with comparatively meagre funds. It was then that the last words of my dear father to me came rushing upon my soul, and adding sorrow to the feelings of my heart. Humiliating as my circumstances were, more deeply affecting to my mind was the ever-present remembrance of a dream which I dreamt on the night previous to my departure from Chipenega, the place where I remained during my illness. I dreamt that I was again residing in Montreal, that I had retired to my room for the night, and was projecting the design of going to the Rocky Mountains to dig for gold: and felt excited by the idea that when I had accumulated a million I would return to England a gentleman of fortune. But my night visions, like my day dreams, were doomed to vanish in disappointment: for at that moment when my soul was elated with the prospect, and my heart throbbing big with joy, I was startled by a light suddenly shining around me; and on looking about I beheld a woman entering the room and approaching where I lay. Her countenance, though pale, shone with a peculiar brightness. A long robe, white as the snow, hung loosely around her, and sandals were upon her feet. I was amazed at the appearance at first sight: but after a momentary gaze I recognized in her features the expression of my own mother.

"'Oh, mother! my dear mother!' I shouted as she approached, quickly raising myself up from my couch.

"'Frederick, my son Frederick,' she exclaimed taking hold of my hand in her own, and kissing me affectionately. 'I have come to take my farewell of you, my dear son, as I am ready to depart on a long journey and will not again see you on earth. Around my poor body your father, brother, sisters, and other relatives are at this very moment sobbing in tears, while in spirit I am here present with you. My time on earth is limited to seconds. My words are therefore few. My injunctions are these,—I hope you will comply with them. Repent of your wickedness and folly. Abstain from intoxicating liquors and evil company. Live a righteous life. Return at once to England, and seal those bonds of a life-union with Clara, whom you have unjustly wronged. Promise me, my son, to do these things and I shall depart in peace.'

"I was so overcome and bewildered at that moment that I could say nothing more than simply to whisper,—'Mother, I shall try to do so.' She then kissed me; bade me good-bye; and on wings of light instantly soared out of the room, leaving it in darkness again. I was so awfully impressed at this moment that I awoke suddenly. It appeared to me to be more of a waking reality than a dream. From that time until the present moment it has preyed heavily upon my feelings. Again and again have I tried to eradicate the impression, but every effort has only had a tendency to rivet it the more firmly to my mind, until it has at length assumed the aspect of a reality. I fear my apprehensions are too true; however I trust to Providence that my dream was nothing more than a baseless emanation of fancy. The evening after my arrival in Toronto from the Red River expedition I wrote a letter to my parents, and also one to a cousin of my own residing in London. I stated the circumstances which compelled me to return from the expedition; that the doctor had advised me to go back to England, as the Canadian climate was not suitable for my constitution; and that I purposed being in London to spend the Christmas holidays with my friends. Neither did I forget to mention the anxiety I felt about my child; nor did I neglect to express my intention of paying an affectionate compliment to its mother on my return. I desired my friends to reply immediately on receiving my letters. Nearly five weeks have elapsed since I wrote, but no answer has been received yet. I however expect something by the next English mail. I am living in suspense; a dreadful feeling indeed to endure. Had my health and means permitted, I would have gone directly to England on my return from the expedition. Instead thereof I sent the letters referred to, and having rested in this city a couple of weeks, I went down to Kingston to visit an old acquaintance who had emigrated thither a few years ago; but when I arrived there I discovered with disappointment that he had recently removed to the State of Minnesota. It was then, sir, that I had the pleasure of meeting with you. Your kindness and familiarity on that occasion, and also since, have been as medicine to my soul. I have considered you as a genial and sympathetic friend. I have told you the history of my past career. I trust to God that my future will be characterised with less unfortunate events, but with deeds more worthy of being told. I feel, and I know that I have been the author of my own wretchedness and folly. I have wasted my time, my money, and my energies in dissipation. I have feasted my conceited fancies upon glory as light and transient as the flying gossamer: and besides all this, I have done injustice to my parents—to my child—and to her who gave it birth. I have wronged her with cruel heart, a heart that has recoiled upon itself, and now stings its own affections in the madness of remorse. But worse than all, I have done injustice to my Maker. I have mocked at His mercy. I have insulted His dignity. I have trampled upon His laws. Oh! miserable wretch that I have been! However, I have resolved to live a better life. I trust to God that through His divine power I shall be enabled to abstain from intoxicating liquor and evil company."

"I intend returning to England in December next," continued Frederick, after a few moments silence. "Yesterday I met with a gentleman who formerly belonged to London, and with whom I was somewhat acquainted. He is now a resident of Hamilton, some 50 miles from here, and does a large business as an upholsterer. He offered me immediate employment, at $1.50 per day. I have engaged with him for two months, at the expiration of which time, if health permit, I will ship myself for England. So that no time may be lost I shall leave for Hamilton to-morrow morning, to be ready to commence work on Monday.

"Now, sir, as you intend remaining in Toronto for a week or two you will indeed favor me by calling at the Post-Office, especially when the next English Mail arrives, and any letters or newspapers addressed to me, please forward immediately."

I promised faithfully to do so:—and having thanked him for his favors I bade him good-bye for the present, expressing a wish that I would find him in a happier state of feelings at our next interview.