boat, the mother knew not where she was going, or what fate awaited her. She was bound solitary and alone in the bow of the long-boat; but she judged, by the direction of the sun, that she was going away from her children. By a sudden effort she broke her bonds, plunged into the river, swam to the left bank of the Atabapo, and landed upon a Rock, and ran away.

She was pursued, and at evening re-taken, and brought back to the rock, where she was scourged till her blood reddened the rock,-calling for her children! and the rock has ever since been called, "THE MOTHER'S ROCK!" Her hands were then tied upon her back, still bleeding from the manatee thongs of leather. She was then dragged to the Papal mission at Javita, and thrown into a kind of stable. The night was profoundly dark, and it was in the midst of the rainy season. She was now full seventy-five miles from her three children, in a straight line. Between her and them lay forests never penetrated by human footsteps; swamps, and morasses, and rivers, never crossed by man But her children are at San Fernando,-and what can quench a mother's love? Though her arms were wounded, she succeeded in biting her bonds with her teeth, and in the morning she was not to be found! At the fourth rising sun she had passed through the forests, swam the rivers, and all bleeding and worn out, was seen hovering round the little cottage in which her babes were sleeping!

She was seized once more; and before her wounds were healed, she was torn again from her children, and sent away

the Papal missions on the upper Oroonoko River, where she drooped, and shortly died, refusing all kinds of nourishment, died of a broken heart at being torn from her children! Such is the history of the "MOTHER'S ROCK.”

DARING AND FEROCITY OF THE WEASEL. THIS little animal, like the whole class of animals to which it belongs, is prone to the commission of depredations on the feathered creation; and although the common weasel is but a slender tiny creature, so that a small chicken or duckling would appear abundantly sufficient to satisfy the

cravings of its keenest appetite, yet it is quite a common occurrence to find it destroying full-grown ducks and fowls, and sometimes even geese and turkeys. There are numerous instances on record of the weasel destroying full-grown rabbits and hares,-not to feed upon their carcases, but for the sake of banquetting on their warm life-blood. I once had an opportunity of witnessing a weasel make an attack upon a hare while it was feeding in a grassy meadow on a fine summer evening. When my attention was first attracted to the encounter, the weasel had just sprung upon and seized the hare by the upper part of the neck, fixing its sharp fangs in the region of the large blood-vessels; the astonished and alarmed hare was making various ineffectual efforts to shake it off,-first darting in one direction, then in another, and then bounding aloft into the air,—but all her efforts were to no purpose. When poor puss was in rapid motion, the little blood-thirsty assassin had enough to do to keep its hold; but when she became comparatively still for a moment, it would mount upon her back-or attempt to do so-in order to gain a little rest; but it never let go the deadly hold its sharp teeth had first taken. The struggle might have continued for nearly a quarter of an hour when the hare sunk upon the grass; and issuing from my hiding. place I hastened to the rescue. But, alas! it was too late. The little villain retreated as I approached, but with an exceedingly bad grace, for it chattered and scolded in its peculiar language, and emitted that offensive odour peculiar to this species of animals; but as I was unprovided with any sort of weapon, it finally succeeded in reaching a place of security in an adjoining hollow bank. In examining its victim, which was still alive, although not able to stand, I found a rather large and lacerated wound in the upper part of the neck, from which the blood was still flowing; but certainly not of a magnitude to have caused the hare's death, if the large arteries had not been opened, from which it was evidently bleeding to death.

That the weasel is a remarkably courageous and determined little animal, the following statement, which was related to me by the individual on whom the attack was made, and but a few days after the curious adventure

occurred, will tend strongly to prove; and will also show that, diminutive as it is, it is not at all times to be trifled with, even by "the lords of the creation."

B-t F-t, or "Old Biddy," as she was more generally called, was an itinerant tea-dealer in a wild and mountainous district of the county of Westmoreland. She had been left a poor and lone widow, and for some years after she became such, was mainly supported on the fruits of the industry of an only and affectionate son. But a melancholy accident deprived him of his life, and his aged parent of his filial assistance and support; in consequence of which a plan was devised by a distant relative, some of "Old Biddy's" benevolent neighbours, to put her in a way to earn a small pittance for an honest livelihood. They effected their laudable purpose by furnishing her with the means of laying in a small stock of tea, not only for the supply of the little hamlet in which she resided, but it was recommended that she should occasionally "travel for orders." It was in one of these little excursions through the wild district in which she residedfor her business sometimes took her six or eight miles from home-that she was put in extreme bodily fear; and had it not been that she was armed with a good-sized staff, and habited withal in garments of "stout double-milled homespun," there is a strong reason to believe that she would have fallen a victim to a numerous party of infuriated weasels. But she shall relate the event in her own way. Who that has ever travelled by that great north-road, leading from Liverpool and Manchester northward to Carlisle and "the Land o'Cakes," does not remember that most dreary and forlorn-looking portion of it, known by the appellation of "Shap Fells." It was on these very "Fells" that our itinerant tea-merchant one day was making her monthly circuit to some lone cottage situated among the heath and the bent, and the melancholy bleakness of the surrounding hills; while in one hand she carried her stock of teas, tied up in an old blue pocket-handkerchief, amounting probably to three or four pounds, and already made up into packages of half-pounds, quarters, and half-quarters, to suit her customers, while her other hand firmly embraced

that staff which was soon to deal death and destruction to quite unexpected assailants. Being somewhat weary with her long walk, and observing an irregular pile of lichencovered stones, not far from the mountain path that led to the cottage she was bound to (which might probably yet be a mile distant), she approached the stone-heap, and having selected one with a tolerably smooth surface, seated herself without the slightest suspicion of being an unwelcome intruder. She had scarcely, however, got her bundle safely deposited, and her aged limbs nestled into the seat which nature had so kindly provided for her, when she observed a weasel peep from beneath a mossy stone, within a few feet of her resting-place; at the same time uttering certain sounds indicative of its manifest displeasure. "I saw the thing was angry," relates the old woman, "but I had often seen a vexed weasel before, and therefore thought but little about it. But presently a second, and a third, and a fourth made their appearance, all evincing evident tokens of displeasure. I had been looking at the two or three that grinned, and cherred, and chattered, in a way I must confess I did not much admire, when on looking in a contrary direction, to the place where I had put down my bundle, I verily believe there were over a score chattering and tearing at the blue handkerchief. I think I should have let them have the tea quietly, although God knows I could have ill afforded to lose so much! but when I got up to away, I believe another score, at the fewest, came running up right in front of me. Some of them were already within the reach of my walking-stick, so I struck at two or three of the nasty impudent things, but in a minute four or five of them were scrambling up my clothes, and one or two got to my neck and shoulders. I now struck, and kicked, and punched, and screamed, and in truth I scarcely know what I did; and although I know that I killed and lamed a few of them, yet I sincerely believe they would have got the better of me at last, if it had not pleased Providence so to direct it, that a shepherd's dog, having been attracted to the place by the skirmish I was making, came to the top of a neighbouring bank and began to bark with all its might; and the instant the vermin heard the barking of the dog,

they all disappeared under the large stones, except perhaps some half-dozen that I had managed to discomfit. But I did not stay to count them, for hastily snatching up my torn bundle, I ran faster than I remember to have done for many a long year; and I took good care in future not to come near any more stone-heaps." This, as nearly as possible, was the exact relation given by "Old Biddy," of her strange adventure with the weasels, and at the time when every circumstance was fresh in her memory, and before the bites and scratches upon her person had wholly disappeared.

I believe there are other instances on record where weasels have been found assembling in large companies, which, on their being molested or annoyed, have offered battle to the human species. Although I cannot precisely state that a regular attack was ever made by them personally upon myself, yet they once mustered in so formidable a party, and exhibited a manner so insolent and daring, that I was not only deterred from carrying a little project against them into effect, but was actually so cowed by their audacious bearing that I fled from the scene of action. This event, also, took place in a secluded little valley in Westmoreland. It was during the Christmas holidays, the ground being covered with snow, and the mountain streams firmly bound up in ice, that I determined upon trying my luck at capturing some marauding little animals that nightly left their foot-prints upon the snow in the bottom of a lone and sequestered dell, where were some dilapidated stone walls that, at a remote period, had probably formed a portion of some rude but quiet dwelling. For this purpose I provided a couple of traps, and, in order to make success more certain, I baited them with a few small birds which I had succeeded in capturing. Thus pre

pared, I reached the bank of the small brook near to the ruined wall; and the only difficulty that now presented itself was to find something to chain my traps to, so that the weasels, or the foumarts, or whatever else the nightly prowlers might be, should not have it in their power to carry them off. But finding nothing to answer my purpose I was under the necessity of returning home, in order to supply myself with a couple of stakes, and an axe to drive