“Is not it strange, mama,” she said, “that she could believe it was Jemmy that cured her?”
“Strange to us, my dear, who do not believe in any such supernatural powers; but we will not quarrel with a faith that cures the tooth-ache.”
As the boat passed Fort Niagara, where the river debouches into the lake, “There,” said Jemmy Chapman to Edward, who stood beside him; “there, on that point stood a noble stone light-house, that has saved many a poor fellow from finding a grave in this stormy lake: it was like the good scripture light which shines equally upon all.”
“And what has become of it?” asked Edward.
“Oh, it was taken down like Solomon's temple, till there was not one stone left upon another, by one of our generals—thank the Lord he was not an American born—he it was, that first set the example of burning on the frontier, and burnt down this pretty town of Newark here—and cut down all the orchards.”
“The orchards! what in the world did he do that for?” asked Edward.
Jemmy paused for a moment, apparently at a loss what motive to assign for such reckless destruction, and then said, “Out of curiosity I believe.”
We fear that we have already protracted our details beyond the patience of our readers.
We shall not therefore describe the prosperous passage of the boat over the beautiful expanse of Lake Ontario: nor the visit of our friends to the town of Rochester, which five years before was a complete wilderness; but now had fine houses, shops, and warehouses, and Edward said, reminded him of Adam, who was born grown up: nor their passage from the lake into the St. Lawrence, where these mighty waters passing St. Vincent on one side, and Grand Island on the other, contract their channel, and assume the form of a river.