“When Sir Charles W. was ambassador at the court of St. Petersburg, he found that the intrigues of a party in the Russian cabinet were all directed against our interests; and, with his usual promptness, he wrote despatches to communicate the circumstance to his own government. These despatches were treacherously obtained by the Russians; but as they were found to be in a secret cipher, they were incomprehensible. By the most culpable want of fidelity, however, in some of Sir Charles’s household, it was discovered that the key to this cipher was pasted on a screen, which he kept carefully locked up in a closet, within his own bed-room; yet in spite of this precaution, some artful person contrived to get in there, and was thus enabled to decipher his dispatches.
“The following night, he was awakened by his friend General Rostopchin, who, with the courage and fidelity of real friendship, risked every thing to warn him of his danger.
“‘Fly my, friend,’ he exclaimed, ‘your despatches have been read—the council is now sitting, and it is resolved that you shall be seized and sent to Siberia. Every moment’s delay increases your danger. I have prepared every thing for your escape; the British fleet is off Cronstadt, and now only can you get on board.’
“The friendship of this generous Russian had even triumphed over the fidelity which he owed his own sovereign. But Sir Charles, though full of gratitude, refused to take his advice.
“‘I am here,’ said he, ‘as the representative of the British King; and never can I so forget his Majesty’s dignity, as to fly from danger. They may send me to Siberia, at their peril; but I never will voluntarily quit my post. I will immediately appear at the council, and assume my place as the ambassador of England.’
“With the utmost expedition he arose, and prepared to appear at the Russian council; but with a presence of mind, like Lord Nelson’s, when he waited to seal his letter with wax, that it might not appear written with precipitation, Sir Charles dressed himself with the utmost precision, in full court dress, to shew that he felt perfectly at ease. When he entered the council chamber, all his enemies seemed to shrink—no one ventured to intercept him as he advanced to the Empress. She received him graciously, and, extending her hand to him, looked contemptuously at those around her, saying, ‘I wish I might possess such a minister as this British ambassador; on him, indeed, his master can justly rely for courage and fidelity.’”
Wentworth guessed the particular word in this interesting anecdote; and a new one having been whispered to him, he begged leave to tell us a traveller’s story:—
“Mr. Scouler, in his voyage up the Columbian river, came to a curious rocky hill, called Mount Coffin by Captain Vancouver. These rocks appeared to be the burial place for the natives of an extensive district; who from dread, as well as respect, the Indians are in the habit of depositing at a considerable distance from their dwellings. The bodies were placed on the rocks in canoes, which served as coffins, and which were covered by boards and secured by great stones. Into these canoes, or more properly speaking coffins, their disinterested relations, unlike hungry heirs in more civilized countries, had crammed all the valuable property of the deceased. Mr. Scouler mentions as a remarkable circumstance, that a large serpent, which you know is the emblem of immortality, issued from one of the coffins as if to warn off all intruders from that sacred spot. Perhaps,” continued Wentworth, “the Indians have some confused idea of the river Styx, and think their deceased friends will be the more readily ferried over to paradise from being placed in a canoe instead of a coffin.”
Mr. Lumley was very much pleased with the manner in which Wentworth had performed his part, and having of course guessed the coffin, he was next brought forward.
“My mother,” he said, “had a dream soon after I was born, which she afterwards told me, and which still remains fresh in my memory. She imagined that an angel appeared and told her that her new born son might possess all the qualities of both heart and understanding for which she had so ardently prayed; ‘but,’ added he, ‘you have omitted in your petitions to ask for one power of the mind, without which all acquirements lose their value, and even the best feelings of the heart will be rendered useless. Now is the time to repair your error—ask quickly for that essential blessing for your boy, and you shall have it.’