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170 vied, and nought would serve her but that Letty and I must come to the wedding: for all my sisters loved Letty, she had such win ning ways with her. Letty did not like to leave her baby, nor yet did I want her to take it; so, after a talk, we fixed to leave it with Letty’s mother for the afternoon. I could see her heart ached a bit, for she’d nev er left it till then, and she seemed to fear all manner of evil, even to the French coming and taking it away. Well! we borrowed a shandry, and harnessed my old grey mare, as I used to the cart, and set off as grand as King George across the Sands about three o'clock, for you see it were high water about twelve, and we’d to go and come back same tide, as Letty could not leave her baby for long. It were a merry afternoon, were that; last time I ever saw Letty laugh heartily ; and for that matter, last time I ever laughed downright hearty myself. The latest cross ing time fell about nine o’clock, and we were late at starting. Clocks were wrong; and we'd a piece of work chasing a pig father had given Letty to take home; we bagged him at last, and he screeched and screeched in the back part o’ shandry, and we laughed, and they laughed : and in the midst of all the merriment the sun had set, and that sobered us a bit, for then we knew what time it was. I whipped the old mare, but she was a deal keener than she w r as in the morning, and would neither go quick up nor down the brows, and they’re not a few ’twixt Kellet and the shore. On the Sands it were worse. They were very heavy, for the fresh had come down after the rains we’d had. Lord! how I did w T hip the poor mare, to make the most of the red light as yet lasted. You, maybe, don’t know the Sands, gentlemen. From Bolton-side, where we started from, it’s better than six mile to Cartlane, and two channels to cross, let alone holes and quicksands. At the second channel from us the guide waits all during crossing time from sun-rise to sun set ; but lor the three hours on each side high water he’s not there, in course. He stays af ter sun-set if he's forespoken ; not else. So you know where we were that awful night. For we’d crossed the first channel about two mile, and it were growing darker and darker above and around us, all but one red line of light above the hills, when we came to a hol low (for all the Sands look so flat, there’s many a hollow in them where you lose all sight of the shore). We were longer than we should ha’ been in crossing the hollow, the sand was so quick ; and when we came up again, there, again the blackness, was the white line of the rushing tide coming up the bay. It looked not a mile from us; and when the “wind blows up the bay, it comes swifter than a galloping horse. ‘ Lord help us!’ said I; and then I were sorry I'd spoken, to frighten Letty, but the words w*ere crushed out of my heart by the terror. 1 felt her shiver up by my side, and clutch my coat. — And as if the pig (as had screeched himself hoarse some time ago) had found out the dan ger we were all in, he took to squealing again, enough to bewilder any man. I cursed him between my teeth for his noise : and yet it was God’s answer to my prayer, blind sinner as I was. Aye! you may smile, sir, but God can work through many a scornful thing, if need be. “By this time the mare were all in a lather, and trembling and panting as if in mortal fright; for though we were on the last bank afore the second channel, the water was gathering up her legs : and she so tired out! When we came close to the channel she stood still, and not all my flogging could get her to stir; she fairly groaned aloud, and shook in a terrible, quaking way. Till now, Letty had not spoken; only held my coat tightly. I heard her say something, and bent .down my uead. “ 1 1 think, John—l think—l shall never see baby again!’ “ And then she sent up such a cry —so loud, and shrill, and pitiful! It fairly mad dened me. I pulled out my knife to spur on the old mare, that it might end one way or the other, for the water was stealing sullenly up to the very axle-tree, let alone the white waves knew no mercy in their steady advance. That one quarter of an hour, sir, seemed as long as all my life since. Thoughts, and fancies, and dreams, and memory, ran in to each other. The mist, the heavy mist, that was like a ghastly curtain, shutting us in for death, seemed to bring with it the scents of the flowers that grew around our own thresh old—it might be, for it was falling on them like blessed dew, though to us it was a shroud. Letty told me after, she heard her baby cry ing for her, above the gurgle of the rising waters, as plain as ever she heard anything; but the sea-birds were skirling, and the pig shrieking, I never caught it; it was miles away, at any rate. ‘Just as I’d gotten my knife out, another fcs®iFi2i3iafia a. airs & a ict sound was close upon us, blending with the gurgle of the near waters, and the roar of the distant; (but not so distant, though:) we could hardly see, but we thought we saw something black against the deep lead color of wave, and mist, and sky. It neared, and neared; with slow, steady motion, it came across the channel right to where w-e were. 0 God! it was Gilbert Dawson on his strong bay horse. “Few words did we speak, and little time had we to say them in. I had no knowdedge at that moment of past or future—only of one present thought—how to save Letty, and, if I could, myself. I only remembered after wards that Gilbert said he had been guided by an animal’s shriek of terror. I only heard, when all was over, that he had been uneasy about our return, because of the depth of fresh; and had borrowed a pillion, and saddled his horse early in the evening, and ridden down to Cart Lane to watch for us. — If all had gone well, we should ne’er have heard of it. As it was, old Jonas told it, the tears down-dropping from his withered cheeks. “We fastened his horse to the shandry.— We lifted Letty to the pillion. The waters rose every instant with sullen sound. They were all but in the shandry. Letty clung to the pillion-handles, but drooped her head as it she had yet no hope of life. Swifter than thought, (and yet he might have had time for thought and for temptation, sir—if he had rid den off with Letty, he would have been saved —not me,) Gilbert was in the shandry by my side. “‘Quick!’ said he, clear and firm. ‘You must ride before her, and keep her up. The horse can swim. By God’s mercy I will fol low. I can cut the traces, and if the mare is not hampered with the shandry, she’ll carry me safely through. At any rate, you are a husband and a father. No one cares for me.’ “Do not hate me, gentlemen. I often wish that night was a dream. It has haunted my sleep ever since like a dream; and yet it was no dream. I took his place on the saddle, and put Letty’s arms around me, and felt her head rest on my shoulder. I trust in God I spoke some word of thanks; but I can’t re member. I only recollect Letty raising her head, and calling out — “ 4 God bless you, Gilbert Dawson* for sav ing my baby from being an orphan this night.’ And then she fell against me, as if uncon scious. * 44 1 bore her through : or rather, the strong horse swam bravely through the gathering waves. We were dripping wet when we reached the banks m-shore; but we could have but one thought—where was Gilbert? Thick mists and heaving waters compassed us round. Where was he ? We shouted. Letty, faint as she was, raised her voice and shouted, clear and shrill. No answer came. The sea boomed on with ceaseless, sullen beat. I rode to the guide's house. He was a-bed, and would not get up, though I offered him more than I was worth. Perhaps he knew it—the cursed old villain. At any rate, I’d have paid it, if I’d toiled my life-long. He said I might take his horn, and welcome. 1 did, and blew such a blast through the still, black night, the echoes came back upon the heavy air; but no human voice or sound was heard; that wild blast could not awaken the dead. 44 1 took Letty home to her baby, over whom she wept the live-long night. I rode back to the shore about Cart Lane; and to and no with weary march did I pace along the brink of the waters, now and then shout ing out into the silence a vain cry for Gilbert. The waters went back, and left no trace. — Two days afterwards he was washed ashore near Flukeborough. The shandry and poor old mare were found half buried in a heap of sand by A inside Knot. As far as we could guess, he had dropped his knife while trying to cut the traces, and so had lost all chance of life. Any rate, the knife was found in a cleft of the shaft. 44 His friends came over from Garstang to his funeral. I wanted to go chief mourner, but it was not my right, and I might not; though I've never done mourning him to this day. When his sister packed up his things, 1 begged hard for something that had been his. She would give me none of his clothes, (she was a right-down having woman,) as she had boys of her own, who might grow up into them. But she threw me his Bible, as she said they’d gotten one already, and his were but a poor used-up thing. It was his, and so I cared for it. It were a black leath er one, with pockets at the sides, old-fashion ed-wise: and in one were a bunch of wild flowers, Letty said she could almost be sure they were some she had once given him. “There were many a text in the Gospel, marked broad with his carpenter’s pencil, which more than bore him out in his refusal to fight. Os a surety, sir, there's call enough for bravery in the service of God, and to show love to man, without quarrelling and fighting. “Thank you, gentlemen, for listening to me. Your words called up the thoughts of him, and my heart was fall to speaking. — But I must make up; I’ve to dig a grave for a little child, who is to be buried to-morrow morning, just when his playmates are troop ing off to school.” “But tell us of Letty; is she yet alive?” asked Jeremy. The old man shook his head, and struggled against a choking sigh. After a minute’s pause, he said, “She died in less than two years after that night. She was never like the same again. She would sit thinking, on Gilbert 1 guessed; but 1 could not blame her, We had a boy, and we named it Gilbert Dawson Knipe; he that’s stoker on the London rail way. Our girl was carried off in teething, and Letty just quietly drooped, and. died in less than a six week. They were buried here; so I came to be near them, and away from Lindal. a place I could never abide after Letty was gone.” He turned to his work, and we, having rested sufficiently, rose up, and came away. (Slimpses of & r cu) Books. BEE HUNTING. [From Cooper’s New Novel, entitled “ The Oak Openings.”] As this is a process with which most of our readers are probably unacquainted, it may be necessary to explain the modus operandi , as well as the appliances used. The tools of Ben Buzz, as Gershom had termed these implements of his trade, were neither very numerous nor very complex. — They were all contained in a small covered wooden pail, like those that artisans and la borers are accustomed to to carry for the pur pose of conveying their food from place to place. Uncovering this, Le Bourdon had brought his implements to view, previously to the moment when he was first seen by the reader. There was a small covered cup of tin : a wooden box; a sort of plate, or plat ter, made also of wood; and a common turn bier, of very inferior, greenish glass. In the year 1812, there was not a pane, nor a vessel of clear, transparent glass, made in all Amer ica ! Now, some of the most beautiful man ufactures of that sort, known to civilization, are abundantly produced among us, in com mon with a thousand other articles that are used in domestic economy. The tumbler of Ben Buzz, however, was his countryman in more senses than one. It was not only A merican, but it came from the part of Penn sylvania of which he was himself a native. Blurred, and of a greenish hue, the glass was the best that Pittsburg could then fabricate, and Ben had bought it only the year before, on the very spot where it had been made. An oak, of more size than usual, had stood a little remote from its fellows, or more with in the open ground of the glade than the rest of the “orchard.” Lightning had struckthis tree that very summer, twisting off its trunk at a height of about four feet from the ground Several fragments of the body and branches lay near, and on these the spectators now took their seats, watching attentively the move ments of the bee-hunter. Os the stump Ben had made a sort of table, first levelling its splinters with an axe, and on it he placed sev eral implements of his craft, as he had need of each in succession. The wooden p’atter was first placed on this rude table. Then Le Bourdon opened his small box, and took out of it a piece of honey-comb, that was circular in shape, and about an inch and a half in diameter. The little covered tin vessel was next brought in to use. Some pure and beautifully clear ho ney was poured from its spout, into the cells of the piece of comb, until each of them was about half filled. The tumbler was next ta ken in hand, carefully wiped, and examined, by holding it up before the eyes of the bee hunter. Certainly, there was little to admire in it, but it was sufficiently transparent to an swer his purposes. All he asked was to be able to look through the glass in order to see what was going on in its interior. Having made these preliminary arrange ments, Buzzing Ben—for the sobriquet was applied to him in this form quite as often as in the other—next turned his attention to the velvet-like covering of the grassy glade.— Fire had run over the whole region late that spring, and the grass was now as fresh, and sweet and short, as if the place were pastur ed. The white clover, in particular, abound ed, and was then just bursting forth into the blossom. Various other flowers had also ap peared, and around them were buzzing thou sands of bees. These industrious little ani mals were hard at work, loading themselves with sweets; little foreseeing the robbery con templated by the craft of man. As Le Bour don moved stealthily among the flowers and their humming visiters, ihe eyes of the two red men followed his smallest movement as the cat watches the mouse ; but Gershom was less attentive, thinking ihe whole curious e nough, but preferring whiskey to all the ho ney on earth. At length Le Bourdon found a bee to his mind and watched the moment when the an imal was sipping sweets from a head of white clover, he cautiously placed his blurred and green-looking tumbler over it, and made it his prisoner. The moment the bee found itself encircled with the glass, it took wing and at tempted to rise. This carried it to the upper part of its prison, when Ben carefully intro duced the unoccupied hand beneath the glass and returned to the stump. Here he set the the tumbler down on a platter in a way to bring the piece of honey-comb within its cir cle. So much done successfully, and with very little trouble, Buzzing Ben examined his cap tive for a moment, to make sure that all was right. Then lie took ofi his cap and placed it over tumbler, platter, honey-comb and bee He now waited half a minute, when cautious ly raising the cap again, it was seen that the bee, the moment a darkness like that of its hive came over it, had lighted on the comb, and commenced filling itself with the honey When Ben took away the cap altogether, the head and half of the body of the bee was in one of the cells, its whole attention being be stowed on this unlooked-for hoard of treasure. As this was just what its captor wished, he considered that part of his work accomplish ed. It now became apparent why a glass was used to take the bee, instead of a vessel of wood or of bark. Transparency was ne cessary in order to watch the movements of the captive, as darkness was necessary in or der to induce it to cease its efforts to escape, and to settle on the comb. As the bee was now intently occupied in filling itself, Buzzing Ben, or Le Bourdon, did not hesitate about removing the glass. He even ventured to look around him, and make another captive, which he placed over the comb, and managed as he had done with the first. * In a minute, the second bee was also buried in a cell, and the glass was again re moved. Le Bourdon now signed for his com panions to draw near. “ There they are, hard at work with the honey,” he said, speaking in English, and pointing at the bees. “Little do they diink, as they undermine that comb, how near they are to the undermining of their own hive! But so it is with us all! When we think we are in the highest prosperity we may be near est to a fall, and when we are poorest and humblest, we may be about to be exalted. I often think of these things, out here in the wilderness, when I'm alone, and my thoughts are acfyve.” Ben used a very pure English, when hi? condition in life is remembered ; but, nowand then he encountered a word, which pretty plainly proved he was not exactly a scholar A false emphasis has sometimes an influence on a man’s fortune, when one lives in the \yorld; but, it mattered little to one like Buz zing Ben, who seldom saw more than half a dozen human faces in the course of a whole summer's hunting. We remember an Eng lishman, however, who would never concede talents to Burr, because the latter said, a t A mericaine, European, instead of European. “How hive in danger?” demanded Elks foot, who was very much of a matter-of-fact person.—“No see him, no hear him — else get some honey.” 44 Honey you can have for the asking, for I’ve plenty of it already in my cabin, though it’s somewhart ’arly in the season to begin to break in upon the store. In general, the bee hunters keep back till August, for they think it belter to commence work when the crea tures,” —this word Ben pronounced as accu rately as if brought up at St. James’, making it neither “creatur,” nor “creators” —“ l 0 commence work when the creatures have had time to fill up, after their winter’s feed. A u I like the old stock, and, what is more, I fee l satisfied that this is not to be a common sum mer. and so I thought I would make an ear ly start.” As Ben said this, he glanced his eye at Pi geon-wing, who returned the look in a way to prove there was already a secret intelli gence between hem, though neither had ev er seen the other an hour before. “ Waal!” exclaimed Gershom, “ this is cur - ous, I’ll allow that; yes, it’s cur’ous —but we’ve got an article at Whiskey Centre that’ll put the sweetest honey bee ever suck’d, alto gether out o’ countenance.” “An article of which you suck your share,