"Eh, well," he said, "when we come to this bush and this water, we must not be surprised to see any quantity of such, for here is their domain, any more than we are surprised to hear that people live in cities. These are natural conditions. When I first took to this life I was always looking out for snakes and tigers; and I believe that they are either less numerous now, or that I now think less of them as dangerous neighbours. For the tiger, I do not consider him personally dangerous, as I suppose that, duly prepared, I am always a match for him. But he hunts my game, and in this he is like some people I know; he makes them timid and drives them away; although sometimes he drives them to me."

"The solitude must have often induced peculiarly serious thoughts, eh, M. Edmond?"

"I never feel it, at least to any extent. After a week in a town or settlement of strangers, I return to these solitudes, as they are called, with a sense of relief from fatigue; and a few days in the bush, with an Indian lad for a companion, would dispel any disposition to a sense of solitariness."

Personal Existence.

47

"To consider of the end of one's days in such a place would, I think, sometimes make one sad."

Even

'Not necessarily more so,” replied M. Edmond, "than to think of ending one's days in a city, and in the midst of one's family. It is not the situation so much as the death, the apparent annihilation of the self, the ego, that appals men. those who strive to build their hopes on Faith have but a confused conception of the future state of their existence. They know that the change is as radical as that of birth. Is it then a new birth, or is it instantaneous entrance to vigorous and mature life, a continuance of the present with the full possession of its memories and associations? Thus they are perplexed or perplex themselves. But in life or in death are we not in the hands of the same Bon Dieu? The unpleasant thoughts cannot change facts. Eheu! quam temere in nosmet legem sancimus iniquam.'"*

"But do you not yourself experience that gloomy

* "Alas! what laws, of how severe a strain

Against ourselves we thoughtlessly ordain."-HORACE.

feeling when thinking of death?" I said to him.

"My case," replied he, " may perhaps be peculiar. What to many is a bugbear is to me a hope of relief from memories which bring continual anguish. My present life is a purgatory;" and with a sigh he muttered, "May the next be a merciful relief!"

An ominous frown followed, which seemed to intimate that I had ventured as far as a prudent man could properly intrude into the privacy of another. We did not continue our conversation.

I was thinking of the motives that cause men to fear death, such as a dislike to change, a sense of unworthiness to submit to a rigid scrutiny by the impartial Judge; a weakness or aberrance of Faith. My thoughts wandered into a misty dreamland and I was asleep. Again I was in dreamland and shaking with terror. All the demons of my childish days' fears were howling around me. I was in the worst of company, and in the most wretched state of existence. Gradually I became conscious, and asked the Indians who were busily