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catch the ear of the noisy patriót in arms, that he had mistaken me as a native of the Union, and that I belonged to the old country, my home being London.

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Indeed," said my friend the Indian trader, "I calculated you were a Northern man. Your dress and looks aren't like our people's out West."

"That is probable," I replied.

"Yes, that's so," he proceeded, "and there's several aboard as have been talking about you, and they've all set you down for a Northerner."

I hinted, in reply, that I had no desire to excite remark on board, and glanced suggestively at our neighbour who was threatening to blow the brains out of the first Northern man who should open his mouth. My friend perceived my meaning immediately, and, dropping his voice to a whisper, said :

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Well, Colonel, just let me, as one that knows the ways of the people here, give you a word of caution, which you may find useful, now that you're setting foot in these here Western diggins. Don't let a soul of them

know that you're an Englishman. Should it get out, it's just as much as your life is worth, mind that. That's the state we're in just now, all alongside of that cursed slavery question. If you say you're an Englishman it's all the same as being a Yankee; not a bit better. And you know the law there-a Yankee is a nuisance, and nuisances must be abolished. That's what they all say there. So you mind, Colonel; and don't forget what I say."

I thanked my friendly adviser, and told him I had already determined to follow his counsel.

As for himself, he said, he did not believe the Southern men had any right to do what they had done in Kansas; but being a thorough Western man, and known in the territory for years, he could go about and they would not touch him, especially as he did not take part with the Abolitionist fanatics. If they did touch him, everybody knew what would be the consequence. And as I looked at his fine athletic frame, and noticed the powerful muscle of his arm and the steady gaze of his eye, long trained to guide the bead of his rifle, I thought I, too, could perceive what would be the conse

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quence of having this Western man for an enemy. But he had given me wise counsel and kind, and I was glad to think the son of the prairie was my friend.

CHAPTER V.

Leavenworth City.--Going on Shore.-A State Prisoner.Governor Robinson in Custody.-Scanty Accommodation.—— Governor Robinson's Examination.-Horrid Threats.-Office of the Hotel.--A Border-ruffian Armoury.-A Free-soiler Silenced.-How to settle the Abolitionists.-Southern "Fixins."--Fort Leavenworth.-Gambling Houses.—A Night of shameless Wickedness and unchecked Outrage.-Governor Robinson's Arrest.-Fierce Threats.-Fears of a Rescue.Committee of Investigation.-Beware of the Hemp.-Arrest of Free-state Men.-State of Parties.-Revulsion of Feeling. -Organization of Guerrilla Parties.-Frequent Collisions.

By about nine o'clock, A.M., the steamboat had reached Leavenworth city. It would excite a smile if I were to describe the aspect of this "city" of log-houses and wooden shanties; as it would if I were to narrate the manifold adventures incident to Western travel. But that is beside my purpose. The majority of the passengers, with myself, landed. A great crowd received us, all evidently eager with expectation and excitement. To my astonishment, the moment after landing I perceived

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that the older gentleman whom I had seen on the hurricane-deck of the steamboat was a prisoner. Surrounded by a number of persons, including the United States officers, he was led off towards M'Carty's hotel, my purposed place of stay. "Who's that they've got there?" "Who's that been caught, eh?" were the eager questions put on many sides. "It's Governor Robinson, been brought round from Lawrence by way of Kansas city," was the reply of one in the crowd. "Governor Robinson, Governor Robinson! Who taught you to call that infernal nigger-stealer Governor, I should like to know?" was the instantaneous rejoinder. "Say the word again, and I will blow your brains out for an Abolition traitor; he is Doctor Robinson, and nothing else, that's what he is, and he shan't be that long. It's time we'd got shet of these dog-gauned Abolitionists." Thus surrounded by the menaces and imprecations of a savage mob, the Free-state Governor was led up the steep road which conducted to the small wooden house known as M'Carty's hotel.

I followed, and, first inquiring for my own accommodation, was met by the answer that if