 Wacusta, or the prophecy, a tale of the Canada's, volume 2, written by John Richardson, narrated by Nick Adams. It was on the evening of that day so fertile in melancholy incident to which our first volume has been devoted, that the drawbridge of Detroit was, for the third time since the investment of the garrison, lowered, not as previously with a disregard of the intimation that might be given to those without, by the sullen and echoing rattle of its ponderous chains, but with a caution attesting how much secrecy or purpose was sought to be preserved. There was, however, no array of armed men within the walls that denoted an expedition of a hostile character. Overcome with the harassing duties of the day, the chief portion of the troops had retired to rest, and a few groups of the guard alone were to be seen walking up and down in front of their post, apparently with a view to check the influence of midnight drowsiness, but in reality, to witness the result of certain preparations going on by torchlight in the centre of the barrack square. In the midst of an anxious group of officers, comprising nearly all of that rank within the fort, stood two individuals, a tired and a costume having nothing in common with the gay and martial habiliments of the former. They were tall, handsome young men, whose native elegance of carriage was but imperfectly hidden under an equipment evidently adopted for and otherwise fully answering the purpose of disguise. A blue cotton shell jacket closely fitting to the person, trousers of the same material, a pair of strong, deerskin moccasins, and a coloured handkerchief tied loosely around the collar of a checked shirt, the hole surmounted by one of those rough blanket coats elsewhere described, formed the principal portion of their garb. Each, moreover, wore a false queue of about nine inches in length, the effect of which was completely to change the character of the countenance and lend to the features of Canadian-like expression. A red-wasted cap resembling a bonnet de nuit was thrown carelessly over the side of the head, which could, at any moment, when deeper disguise should be deemed necessary, command the additional protection of the rude hood that fell back upon the shoulders from the collar of the coat to which it was attached. They were both well-armed, into a broad belt that encircled the jacket of each with thrust abrasive pistols and a strong dagger. The hole so disposed, however, as to be invisible when the outer garment was closed. This again was confined by a rude sash of warstead of different colours, not unlike in texture and quality what is worn by our sergeants at the present day. They were otherwise armed, however, and in a less secret manner. Across the right shoulder of each was thrown a belt of warstead also, to which were attached a rude powder horn and shot-pouch with a few straggling bullets, placed there as if rather by accident than design. Each held carelessly in his left hand and, with its butt resting on the earth, a long gun, completing an appearance the attainment of which had, in all probability, been sedulously sought, that of Canadian duck-hunter. A metamorphosis so ludicrously operated in the usually elegant costume of two young English officers, for such they were, might have been expected to afford scope to the pleasantry of their companions, and to call forth those sallies which the intimacy of friendship and the free masonry of the profession would have fully justified. But the events that had occurred in such rapid succession, since the preceding midnight, were still painfully impressed on the recollection of all, and some there were who looked as if they would never smile again, neither laugh nor jeering, therefore, escaped the lips of one of the surrounding group. Every countenance wore a cast of thought, a character of abstraction, ill-suited to the indulgence of levity, and the little conversation that passed between them was in a low and serious tone. It was evident some powerful and absorbing dread existed in the mind of each, inducing him rather to indulge in communication with his own thoughts and impressions, than to communicate them to others. Even the governor himself had, for a moment, put off the dignity and distance of his usually unapproachable nature, to assume an air of unfaithful concern, and it might be dejection, contrasting strongly with his habitual haughtiness. Here the two he'd been walking to a... Sample complete. Ready to continue?