"At this instant an Indian trader alighted at the door. He appeared to have come a considerable distance, and now proffered to barter a keg of _french brandy_ for some beaver skins, he saw hanging out a post. "French brandy!' cried Tomo cheekily 'that must be something _new_.' "It is surely such,' replied the wandering trader, 'at least in this remote wilderness.' "I will taste it, by Heaven,' said the Indian. "But will it not prove the falsehood of your position and assertion,' interrupted I, 'that there is nothing _new under the sun? To him that exists through all ages nothing can be strange or novel; with the transitory race of man, the case is wholly different. Art and Nature are combined in perpetually composing new forms and substances for his use and amusement on the ocean of life_.' "The Divinity himself must surely reside in that precious liquor!' exclaimed the Indian, after tasting it a second time; 'take all my skins and furs; and when the dawn of the morning appears, return home, stranger, and bring a fresh supply of this celestial beverage. My existence had indeed begun to be a burden: I was meditating, to extricate myself by the shortest method. I have now learned wisdom, and am convinced, that it is _variety alone that can make life desirable."_ * * * * * In order to understand the following, I must inform you, F---- had been telling the story of a love-distracted maid, somewhat similar to Sterne's Maria. You will suppose her lately to have put an end to her existence.-- "We had not proceeded very far on our way, when we discovered a funeral procession advancing towards us, headed by the parson of the parish in which we were. He was a little man, dressed in black, with a scarf hanging over his left shoulder.--Upon inquiry, we found they were proceeding to a church about a league distant, where the corpse they attended was to be deposited. "And to whom may this body belong?" said the _indian physician_, addressing the man who walked in the rear of the procession. "It is the corpse of the unfortunate Marcia,' replied the other, speaking low; 'she died suddenly, yesterday morning, and is now carrying to be interred in the vault of her ancestors.' We were much affected at this intelligence, as we had hoped to hear of her recovery, instead of her decease. "At the request of my friend, the man in the white linen coat, the Indian agreed to attend the funeral along with us, and accordingly we all three fell in among the followers, and travelled on with a slow pace till we came to the scene of interment. The situation was wild and gloomy. Naked rocks, dark cedars, the head of a small lake, and the venerable tombs of the dead, completed the scenery.