look upon foreign nations, or what I call the face of nature, if
you wish him to understand his own character. Now, there is my
brother-in-law, the Sergeant: he is as good a fellow as ever broke
a biscuit, in his way; but what is he, after all? Why, nothing
but a soldier. A sergeant, to be sure, but that is a sort of a
soldier, you know. When he wished to marry poor Bridget, my sister,
I told the girl what he was, as in duty bound, and what she might
expect from such a husband; but you know how it is with girls when
their minds are jammed by an inclination. It is true, the Sergeant
has risen in his calling, and they say he is an important man at
the fort; but his poor wife has not lived to see it all, for she
has now been dead these fourteen years."

"A soldier's calling is honorable, provided he has fi't only on
the side of right," returned the Pathfinder; "and as the Frenchers
are always wrong, and his sacred Majesty and these colonies are
always right, I take it the Sergeant has a quiet conscience as well
as a good character. I have never slept more sweetly than when I
have fi't the Mingos, though it is the law with me to fight always
like a white man and never like an Indian. The Sarpent, here, has
his fashions, and I have mine; and yet have we fi't side by side
these many years; without either thinking a hard thought consarning
the other's ways. I tell him there is but one heaven and one hell,
notwithstanding his traditions, though there are many paths to
both."

"That is rational; and he is bound to believe you, though, I fancy,
most of the roads to the last are on dry land. The sea is what my
poor sister Bridget used to call a 'purifying place,' and one is
out of the way of temptation when out of sight of land. I doubt