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114 tenanee assumed nearly every variety of ex pression that the human countenance can as sume. When he had finished— “Well,’’ said he, “of all the Bills of Sale that ever I laid my eyes upon, that beats. If you had come to me and told me to draw up an in strument, in the form of a bill of sale, that at all times, and in all Courts would be equal to a con fession of judgment by you, in any suit brought against you, by any person claiming under Mrs. Glib, I couldn’t have come within gun-shot of this for that purpose. Burn it up immediately— destroy it—what's your wife's name doing to that bill of sale ? Isn’t Flora Curt the woman you’ve been living with as your wife ? But it’s not worth while to talk about it—destroy it, I tell you, immediately 1” “And then what title will I have to show for all these negroes and ” “None ; trust to “the defects of Glib’s title, or to his not being able to identify them ” “Is that the best advice that you can give me ?” “Yes.” “Then I'll get another lawyer. Stark would give me the same advice ; I understand it I” “What do you mean, you cheating, swindling, adulterous rascal ?” said Smith, moving to the back room with a stick-hunting motion. Carp was goue*before his return. Carp employed a young attorney of Woodville, who confirmed his views of the bill of sale, in every particular. “There’s the title,” said he, “plainly and distinctly set forth—not simply upon a good consideration, which would have been all sufficient, but also upon a valuable consideration, and, to make assurance, doubly sure, upon divers other considerations. This title, like the resistless torrent, is sustained by various tributaries from perfectly pure sources. Then it is fortified by a rampart of truth and .generosity on your part, Mr. Carp, that must forever protect it from the imputation of fraud. All else is mere surplusage. How such a profound jur.st as Mr. Smith is could have advised you to destroy this all important document I cannot conceive, unless he overlooked that sterling legal maxim : Utile per inutile non vitiatur.” Carp was enraptured with this impromptu dis play of legal ability, rejoiced at his chango of Attornies, and highly flattered at finding his skill in guarding against “ afterclaps ” so fully avouched. Far as we have digressed from the direct path of our narrative, we are strongly tempted to fol low this bill of sale through the several Courts in which it made its appearance, but in charity to the reader’s patience we forbear. Suffice it to say, that as soon as Stark saw it, he took a copy of it, served notices to produce it in all the cases, and never let it get out of Court until it had, as we have said, turned over nearly the whole of Carp’s estate to Glib and his niece. This is but one ofa thousand instances in which rascality has over-reached itself, and been made subservient to justice. Glib and his niece returned to Alabama, rich, and both prospered in life. Curt was lucky.— Watson purchased him out entirely, in less than two months after Carp’s departure, at tolerably fair prices and he set out in quest of his wife with three thousand dollars in his pocket. Ho had not gone far in Louisiana before he learned that there were no such places in the State as Chuckiluckimaw, and Tonnafoosky : so coming upon a valuable piece of land, he purchased it cheap, and settled down upon it with two negro women, proceeds of his surplus funds. His land grew in value, and his negroes in number, and thus when he died, (a little before liis wife) he left a right pretty little estate, which went to swell the fortune of his daughter. 11 would have been lost to her, but for a letter which he wrote to a friend in Georgia, just before his death, who three or four years afterwards went to visit Glib. [to be continued.] [For the Southern Field and Fireside.] A SKETCH. Day had not quite departed—the setting sun in silent majesty had gone to rest; the innumer able sounds that fill a city’s busy life, grew hush ed and still as evening’s gray came deepening on. I sat within my lonely chamber, where dis ease had kept mo prostrate weary weeks, and looked forth upon the sky; darkness had been around me now so long, that nature came with renovated beauty to bless my dim and fal tering sight. Around me were familiar things; my mother’s old arm chair was just within my reach, filled with its clustering memories of the loved and lost; my own arm chair—thou silent soother of so many a weary hour, when I have nursed my children through the long, long watches of the dreary night, and prayed they might be spared to bless me; my beautiful 1 my best be loved ! for you my prayer was vain—Heaven’s golden circlet now is twined within thy curls, and in those hands of matchless beauty is its sweetest harp, but angel as thou art — thou art my men, and this old chair so dearly loved by thee, I now recline on; with thoughts thus sadly filled, I looked upon the sky; with the sombre leaden hue of coming night, it suited well ray fancies. I gazed and gazed, and thought upon my boy, and wondered if his spirit eyes looked lovingly upon his mother, while my ach ing heart yearnod for an answer. From those gloomy depths broke forth a star —trembling and bright, it looked as though it wished to pierce my very heart, and fill it with the blest assur ance of his memory and his love. Is this thy star, my boy? And dost thou come in this bright guise to bless my wounded heart ? Oh! God protect me from the blindness that I so much dread, and if it be Thy gracious will that health again should visit this poor frame, oh 1 may it bring renewed acceptance of Thy love, and grief that I havo wronged it. P. E. —— mmk- [Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.] DREAM LIFE. Oh I this dream life ; how sweet it is ! How sweet to wander by the gurgling streams, upris ing in the land of song, or gushing from affec tion's rock by the kindly touch of sympathy.— How sweet, in fancy's soul-lit lauds, where beaming stars of thought e’er keep their vigils bright, and sing their morning songs in harmo ny divine, to wake the tuneful soul to dream again! . Oh, dreams ! how ye do people life, and fill all the blank chasms of the soul! Like statues on cathedral walls, in every niche and corner of the heart, some sweet goddess of Beauty stands, smiling love all the day long. The Virgin Mary of all our hopes, sweet mother of all our dreams ! Oh! these life-longings, these spirit-reachings! upward, upward still i These hopes unrealized, these dreams unfulfilled. Shadowy phantoms, frail fabrics of decay ! the night comes, and the grave—and where are they ’? Oh, the dreamland is a fairy land where Fancy wanders wild. Love, Joy and Song, hand in hand, like a wandering child, lead us unto those castles, builded, 0, so frail, yet beauteously ! whose walls of golden hopes are reared, and with longings sweet adorned, whose halls are peopled with memories endeared, and the sweet smiles of the blessed gone ! K. B. T. XHE SOTTXKE&H SXB&D An VXKSBXBS. Written fur the Southern Field and Fireside. BABY MAY. BY St. Si., or WALKVT GROVE. The earth wss in silence, the shadowy light Os the moonbeams stole softly, o'er flow'rets and trees. Above and around, spread the beautiful night, Fanned gently to rest, by the dew-laden breeze. The odorous breath of the vine-clad bowers, Came balmily up from the forest afar, Commingling its fragrance with night's gentle flowers, That smilingly held in each dew cup a star. Like a veil of enchantment thrown over the scene, A mist-wreath hung lightly on pinions of air, Floating upward it circled in silvery sheen, The moon with a halo of radiance rare, A while it thus rested, its soft fleecy fold Bathing hill-top and vale with mild dewy light, Then deftly some wind-sprite its fleeciness rolled In a billowy cloud, edged with foam-crestcd white. As I gazed on it thus, but a moment it seemed E'er slowly, an arch of such loveliness rare Spanned thebillowy cloud, that the moonbeamsl weened Had stolen the dew-drops, andrainbowed them there. And suddenly then, some mysterious power Removed the dim veils, which our senses enshroud, And I saw, methought, in that mystical hour, Beyond the light rainbow and shadowy cloud Just then, was it fancy, or really, mine ear, Did it catch a sweet strain, like an echo of song, Os song that might come from a heavenly sphere, A chorus of joy from somejoy-burde-ned throng ? And my spirit-eyes saw adown the bright arch A fair host, angelic, descending from Heaven, They bear on their pinions, as earthward they march, A spirit unborn, that to earth had been given. With harp-strings and lute, wrought of sunset's bright hue, Tuned to heavenly notes, sang this cherubim throng: ‘ Oh ! spirit unborn," were their words, “pure and true, Thou art given us to guard thee, life's journey along. Invisibly near thee, our mission shall be, To keep thee from weakness, temptation and sin, For pure as the i>cnH, in its shell 'neath the sea, Is the soul, it is ours, from Evil to win." ’Twas the voice of this choir, in its melody soft, That I heard as t)hey bore her from heavenly bowers, For the hour thnt it vanished this vision aloft, Baby May oped her eyes, on this fair world of ours. And oft I have thought, as in slumber I've seen A smile all seraphic, unearthly and rare, Steal over her features, they're with her, I ween, Those angels that hare Baby May in their care ! Mr. Max* ; Baby May is no poetic fiction, butagen uiuc bright-eyed “wee-bit birdie” that oped its blue eyes on “this fair world of ours," May ISth last At the same hour, by some strange poetic coincidence, I witnessed for the first time, that beautiful phenomenon—a rainbow at night,—and to please Baby May's papa and mamma, my idle pen has wrought the little incident up into rambling rhyme, for which, we humbly beg the poet's corner of your next Fireside. We promise, moreover, to keep the veritable sheet, till ‘Baby May’s blue eyes' are wise enough to read of the angelic sponsorship so oddly vouch safed for her by her loving auntie, M. M. August, 1859. [Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.] JACK HOPETON AND HIS FRIENDS OR, THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A GEORGIAN. BY WM. W. TURNER. CHAPTER X. The week after I got home, the guests began to arrive. Col Banks and daughter were the first to come. The Col. was a fine-looking, rud dy old gentleman, whose white hair was the only sign of approaching age. Ho was of the old school; well educated, refined and very po lite—especially to the sex. Miss Kate Morgan had joined the Holmes party, and they all came in a lump. Uncle Charley had not yet honored Hopeton with his presence. “He is anxious,” said my father, “like a fine belle, by delaying, to make liis advent with as much eclat as possible.” Late one evening, as several of the guests were assembled in the front colonnade, they saw a carriage of considerable pretension roll ing toward the house. “Here comes the immaculate Charley Hamp ton at last,” said Mr. Hopeton. “Where?” asked Mrs. Holmes. “In that carriage.” “How do you manage to recognize him ?” “By his equipage, to be sure.” “Well, I should imagine from what I have heard of him, that he is just the man to travel in such a £audy affair as that.” “Charley will travel in good style.” “You won’t pretend to say that that concern is in good taste ?” “I shall certainly inform my friend of your sar castic remarks, concerning his carriage.” “I hope you will, Mr. Hopeton." “Well, ho will most assuredly seek revenge.” “How?” “Can you not guess?” “No.” “You know Charley’s reputation?” “In what way, sir?” “As King of Hearts.” “I know he tries to act that character.” “His revenge, then, will be sought after the usual manner of your flirts.” “Pray enlighten us, Mr. Hopeton.” “He will set himself out to win your heart, that he may break it.” “I have heard much of the redoubtable Mr. Hampton,” said Mrs. Holmes, “and met [him once, but was too busy to pay much attention to him. Now, though, I shall have a good op portunity, and intend to bring him to my feet.” “Provided he does not anticipate you, Mrs. Holmes.” “When I saw him,” continued the lady, “ I had so mauy flirtations on hand, and it was so late in the season, I concluded not to undertake him." “And so now ? ” said Miss Laura Banks, who came out just then : “So now,” answered Mrs. Holmes, “I have plenty of leisure, and am determined to victim ize him.” ABut perhaps,” said Miss Banks, “he is ma king the same calculations concerning you.” “Possibly.” “You know the vanity of these men is aston ishing.” “Yes.” “But who is it that you are going to treat so cruelly ?” “One Mr. Charley Hampton.” “Oh! Mrs. Holmes. Then I shall be your rival.” “Very good. Both of us together surely can prove too much for him.” “I shall certainly contend for th.e honor of breaking his heart,” said Miss Banks. “You know Charley, then?” enquired my father. “I liavo never met him, but have heard of him often.” “Well, it is certainly singular,” said Mr. Hope ton, laughing. “What is singular ?” “Excellent! We’ll have rare sport!" “But what is so singular, Mr. Hopeton?” asked Mrs. Holmes. . “Oh, only a slight coincidence between the language you and Miss Banks have used, and that of a letter I received not long ago.’’ “Indeed ? Well, suppose you let us hear what the letter says." “I intend to do so and then I shall inform Charley of your charitable intention concerning him.” “Do; and then we will be fore-warned and fore-armed all round." “Certainly: it will be a fair trial of skill.” “But the letter.” “Here it is, then. Charley is a voluminous writer to me; but I will read you only a short extract.” Mr. Hopeton read as follows: “And you say, Henry, the renowned Mrs. Holmes will be at Hopeton. lam glad of it. I have long desired to cultivate her acquaintance, but have never had an. opportunity of doing so. True, I saw the lady once at Cotoosa, and was introduced to her, but I had so many flirtations on hand that I was unable to bestow more than a passing thought on any new acquaintance. Now, however, thank Cod! I am clear of all last season’s engagements, perfectly at leisure, and ready for a flirtation with Mrs. Holmes. I am not a vain man you know, Hal, but I may say you are well enough acquainted with Charley Hampton to guess what will be the result when he sets out to win the heart of a lady, though that ladv should be the famous Mrs. Holmes her self.” A burst of laughter greeted the reading of this precious extract, and none enjoyed it more than Miss Banks. Mrs. Holmes was astounded. “His impudence is past belief,’’ said she at length; “but the greater his pride, the greater will be his fall.” “Very philosophical," said my father. “But,” lie continued, 'Miss Banks, will you now hear what Charley lias to say of you ?” “Os me!’’ exclaimed Miss Laura in the utmost confusion. “Certainly.” “Why what can ho know of me ?” “A great deal” “But how?” “Did you not say, a moment ago, that you had heard of him ?” “Yes.” “Well, is it surprising that he should have heard of you ?’’ “Lsuppose not.’’ “You flirts, male and female, are sure to know all about each other, whether personally ac quainted or not.’’ “But I think it is rather impertinent for him to indulge in remarks concerning a lady he never even saw.” “Do you? But you have been talking of him.” “Ladies are privileged.” “And so are kings of hearts.” nothing of which harm can be made.” “Neither has he; or I would not read it to you.” “Well, letus hear it, at any rate.” “Here it is, then.” “Miss Banks, of Louisiana, I hear, will also honor Hopeton with her presence. This, too, is very lucky, for she is a lady I have long wish ed to see ; and ns it is impossible that the other affair can occupy all my time, the conquest of her heart may prevent the balance from hanging heavily on my hands. You may look for me about the Ac.” Amid the laughter created by this second read ing, the carrriage was up at the gate, and a fine looking mulatto opened the door for his master, who occupied the back seat. The latter rose slowly and lounged la/.ily and dignifiedly down the steps, with an unlit cigar between his teeth ; having been enjoying a dry smoke for the last half hour of his ride. He stopped a few moments to give some directions to his servant; and I will tell you how he appeared to the la dies as ho stood, with bis neatly gloved hand raised to enforce attention. He was an exceedingly fashionable looking gentleman, with hair dark, but not black, a pair of eyes not easily matched for expression and intelligence, and features rather distingue than handsome. On his face there rested an air of the, most supremo and imperturable self-satisfac tion, which, however, differed from the vulgar conceit of ordinary dandies, as the bright shi ning gold from the base counterfeit. His dress was plain, but fitted in such away as to show that he had an artist to work for him; and though unassuming, it was made of rich material. His figure and bearing were magnificent—grand; and as he stood, in a care less, but graceful attitude, addressing his ser vant, Mrs. Holmes and Miss Banks, look as closely as they might, could find no defect in his personal appearance, and they were forced to acknowledge to themselves that ho was a foe man worthy of their steel. As he finished his directions, he turned very leisurely towards the steps, and was met at the bottom by his friend. For awhile he threw aside his fashionable manner, and his voice trem bled a little as ho grasped my father’s hand.— He soon recovered, however, and resumed his mask, but not before all present had noted and wondered at this remarkable exhibition of feel ing. “Mon cher Henri,” said Uncle Charley, as he ascended the steps, “I am exceedingly glad to find you looking so well, and still more, to see you dressed like a gentleman. I perceive you have not forgotten the lessons I taught you.” “You taught me, indeed! Why, Charley, lam a better dressed man to-day than you, although you are young and unmarried, while I am old and a pater familias." Now, Uncle Charley and my father were of the same age, and this assertion was intended as a sly hit at the former, for the amusement of the ladies. “All vanity, Henry,” replied Uncle Charley, in nowise disconcerted. “AU vanity. I see you have not yet rid yourself of that besetting sin of your youth.” “And as it is a sin of youth , of course Charley Hampton lies under no suspicion of being guilty of it." “Ah! you will persist in attempting to be wit ty, when I have so often assured you it is impos sible for you to be so. But we’U talk all this over to-night, when these bright eyes around us are closed in sleep. Now, I must pay my re spects to them : present me.” “Well, you know Mrs. Holmes already ?” “I believe I may claim that honor,” said Un cle Charley, bowing profoundly. “ Certainly, we are acquainted, Mr. Hope ton,” replied the lad}', with a stately inclination of her head. “I know Mrs. Holmes; for what Georgian does not know the boast and pride of his State? But I was not sure she would recognize so hum ble and obscure an individual as myself, since our former acquaintance was so short.” “Come, Mr. Hampton, this affectation of such excessive modesty will make me suspect you of the sin of vanity, concerning which you have been lecturing Mr. Hopeton.” “Upon my honor," began Uncle Charley, lay ing his hand upon his heart; when he was in terrupted with, “Never mind now, Charley, that fine speech will keep till another time. I wish to present you to another lady. Miss Banks, allow me to introduce to you’my bosom friend. Mr. Hamp ton.” “I am honored in forming your acquaintance, Miss Banks,” said Mr. Hampton, with another of his inimitable bows. “And I,” said Miss Laura, “am happy' to know one who calls himself a friend of Mr. Hopeton.” Uncle Charley pissed on to seek his room; and the knot in the colonnade broke up. How well I recollect that night—the night of our friend’s arrival; because I took a stroll with the beautiful Kate Morgan, and, in the flood of ra diance cast down through the foliage of our no ble oaks, gazing on her lovely countenance, I almost imagined myself to be in love. It is not of this I wish to speak, now, however; but on that brilliant evening, all of our guests assem bled in the colonnade, where some remained, and whence some wandered through the magnificent grove around the house. Mrs. Holmes, escorted by Uncle Charley, was among the latter. They made desperate at tempts to convinco each other that they were in nocent, unsophisticated individuals, unacquaint ed with the wiles of flirts, Ac. Finally they grew sentimental, then communicative and intimate —laying bare the inmost recesses of their young and tender hearts. They parted very much pleased, and with the best understanding in tlie world. The next morning at breakfast, the gentleman addressed the lady in a rather familiar, confi dent manner. Not to his surprise, her manner was cold —almost rude. He smiled very quietly and benevolently, for the rest of the day giving her a wide berth. It was really amusing and interesting to watch the course of this flirtation between Mrs. Homes and Uncle Charley, especially since I was doubtful as to what would be the issue of the contest. Sometimes, as I gazed on the proud and lofty Holmes, and listened to the rich tones of her voice, I thought my father’s friend was in danger of losing his heart in good earnest. Again, when I looked at the fine, manly fig ure, and recollected the true eloquence of Uncle Charley, I concluded that the lady was at least in equal danger. Still, knowing that each was, as the lady had expressed it, forewarned and forearmed, and conscious of being watched by the rest of us, I was convinced they would bo very cautious how they gave way to anything ike genuine feeling. I was well aware that Charley Hampton was not what he seemed to the world. I knew that his heart was in the right place. With Mrs. Holmes I was less acquainted, and was uncer tain whether she was, or not, what the world reported her—a mere heartless coquette. Per haps the reader will discover, in time. Os courso Uncle Charley did not wait on Mrs. Holmes to dinner that day. She was escorted by Edgar Morton, while the knowing Mr. Hamp ton accompanied the quiet, but charming Miss Morton. It happened, though, that the two couples sat opposite each other, so that a corf versation by one party had to be carried on in an exceedingly low tone, to avoid being heard by the other. Whether this situation of affairs was the re sult of accident, or design on the part of the cunning Charley, I cannot say, but this I know, Mrs. Holmes and her cavalier had taken their seats before the other two got to the table, and there were a number of other seats vacant; still, they sat in the position described. It would havo seemed from Uncle Charley’s manner that he was unconscious of the fact of Mrs. Holmes being so near him; for ho never raised his eyes to her face during dinner, but appeared entirely devoted to the fair girl at his side. Ed. Morton was a clever, good-looking gentle manly' fellow, not very intelligent or romantic, but it was strange how suddenly Mrs. Holmes had become interested in his conversation—for she seemed equally absorbed as Uncle Charley— she who, generally, was ready to die with ennui, on being forced into a tete-a-tete with any one the least prosy or dull. The dinner passed off’, and the same game was kept up in the drawing room, until Mrs. Holmes began to tire of it. Indeed it was not very difficult to forget Mrs. Holmes, or any one else, seated by Miss Morton’s side, listening to her soft and liquid accents, and Uncle Charley’s oblivion was not altogether assumed. Mrs. Holmes was perfectly aware of the attractions possessed by her rival of the evening, and tliis knowledge by no means contributed to soothe her. When she had snubbed her beau of the night before, she thought a few words in her win ning way, and a tender glance of her brilliant eye, would be sufficient at any time, to bring him back to her side. Accordingly she passed close to where he sat, and made some gay, ban tering remark. It was in the form of an inquiry, and she supposed he would answer in his usual style of extravagant compliment. On the con trary, after finishing a sentence he had com menced, he rose, formally answered her, stand ing, in his gravest, most measured tones; then resumed his seat, and his conversation with Miss Morton. Mrs. Holmes’ first impulse was to turn and leave him to himself, but she recollected this would be a triumph for him. “If,” thought she, “I can bring him in, now that he is disposed to be a little rebellious, my power will be estab lished so she sat down on a sofa close by. “My dear Miss Morton,” she said, “it is un fair that you should appropriate to yourself, en tirely, the only lion of the company.” “I am sure I make no effort to appropriate any one.” “Nevertheless, you are exercising a monopoly which in this republican country is not admissi ble.” “But I insist that you acquit me of any in tention to offend.” "Why you must not look so killingly-boauti ful.” J “Go to Nature, then, with your complaint.” “Seriously, though, we are unwilling you should enjoy all of Mr. Hampton’s conversation, however willing we may be to share it with you.” “Will you not address yourself to him?’’ “Where’s the use? You are the siren by whose charms he is induced to forget the rest of us.” “As he is a gallant gentleman, Mrs. Holmes, he will certainly listen to any suggestion coming from a lady.” Not while within the sphere of your influ ence will he listen to aught save your dulcet tones.” w J fP 1 s°ry I interfere with your enjoyment, Mrs. Holmes.” “It is not myself alone, Miss Morton; but in the name of the company I protest against mo nopolies. Uncle Charley had been playing with hi ß watch chain during this conversation. At last he rose, actually yawning. “And I also,” said Uncle Charley, “beg leave to enter a protest It is against being called by the name of a beast, and against being interrupt ed in a conversation so interesting as that in which I was engaged.” And he sauntered off to the other side of the room. If Mrs. Holmes was a little astonished at the freezingly polite manner in which Mr. Hamp ton had replied to her first inquiry, the reader can well imagine the nature of her surprise at the rudeness of his last words. It was only paying her back in her own coin, however; but for some days, after this little incident, the two notorieties avoided each other. CHAPTEB XI. Various were the means of amusement resort ed to by the guests at Hopeton. Never, per haps, were hosts better acquainted with the va rious methods of killing time than my parents. All of the ladies and gentlemen assembled at our house were fond of riding on horse back, and scarcely an evening passed that some of them were not scouring the surrounding country on the noble steeds which were the pride of my father’s stables. One evening Uncle Charley stole off from the company to enjoy a solitary ride. • Generally ho accompanied the ladies; but some whim seized him on that particular day, and he went off alone, at a rather earlier hour than usual. Later, nearly all of us mounted horse for a gallop; Mrs. Holmes, as it happened, being again attended by Ed. Morton. She was a most accomplished horse-woman, and did not hesitate to essay the most fiery of our “bits of blood.” I was frequently rendered uneasy by her dar ing freaks, and endeavored to prevent her from riding very wild horses. On this particular evening, though, I was thinking of other matters, and Hick, the groom, brought out a young horse, recently purchased, of which I knew nothing, for Mrs. Holmes’ use. ■ Pretty soon wo were strung out at considera ble intervals; fho foremost couple—Mrs. Holmes and Morton, being a long way ahead of us all.— We filed along through a beautiful wooded road, and finally came to a large un-enclosed plain, on one side of winch was a slight margin of trees, standing on the very brink of a precipitous bank at the foot of which ran a creek—creek, bank and all, lying hidden from view by said trees. Suddenly Mrs. Holmes’ horse became frightened, and growing perfectly ungovernable, dashed off at a furious rate right towards the precipice.— Had he kept straight on, in the open field, I should have felt little apprehension, knowing the lady’s equestrian skill, and feeling assured she would be able, finally, to take him up. As it was, I sat on my horse paralyzed with fear as I saw the mad brute rushing blindly to certain destruction. I saw that he would reach the bank long be fore I could overtake him, and for that reason I made no effort. Ed. Morton did what he could to check the horse, galloping along and snatch ing at the bridle, but all his efforts seemed to have only the effect of farther frightening the al ready desperate animal. The ladies of the par ty saw the danger and screamed with apprehen sion. 1 had given up all hope, expecting to see Mrs. Holmes die a horrible death. I6he was not aware of the existence of the creek and bank, or she would have thrown herself from her horse, risking broken bones,rather than face certain destruction. Just at this time, while her horse was bonudmg on like lightning, I saw a horseman galloping at full speed, toward the line in which Mrs. Holmes was riding. It was Uncle Charley, and as I recognized him, I drew a deep sigh, of relief, for I knew that he would do everything that mortal was capable of, to stop the horse. Mrs. Holmes also recognized him, and had an instinctive idea that he would risk his life in an attempt to save her. She afterwards declared that she almost resolved to die, rather than owe her safety to him. She jerked her steed with all her might, hoping to check him sufficiently to enable her to leap to the ground; but it was too late, for Uncle Charley crossed the path a little ahead, pulled his horse short up, swung himself from the saddle and seized the bridle of the frightened animal ridden by the lady. The horse was so near the ravine, I thought he would plunge in, carrying Mrs. Holmes and Uncle Charley both. As it was, the latter was lifted clear from the ground and dragged forward several paces; but ho finally succeeded in arrest ing the struggling beast, on the very verge of the precipice—tho very brink of destruction— and threw him back on his haunches. “Gallantly done!” shouted Morton, while Uncle Charley held tho still trembling and frightened horse. “I will leave you now, Mrs. Holmes,” again said Edgar, “ since you are in such gallant hands.” “Oh, I beg you will not, Mr. Morton,” exclaim ed the lady, actually bursting into tears. “Hut before you go,” said Uncle Charley, “you will surely assist Mrs. Holmes to dismount from this wild horse.” “Oh, no I” said Mrs. Holmes, pulling at the reins, “I entreat you to allow me to rejoin the company.” “I assure you, Mrs. Holmes,” replied Uncle Charley, “on the honor of a gentleman, this ani mal is unsafe. Let me put your saddle on my horse which is as gentle as a dog.” “ Mine is over his fright now. ” “ You are mistaken. See how ho trembles. When I have placed you on my gentle horse, I will leave you, since my very presence seems hateful. ” “ Now you are mistaken, ” said Mrs. Holmes, her voice choking with emotion. “I am certainly de trop," said Ed Morton. “ Let me help you down, Mrs. Holmes, and their I must go. None but tho brave deserve the fair, and Mr. Hampton has most bravely rescued you from the very jaws of death. See that pre cipice, down which your horse was about 4o plunge. ” “It seems then,” said Mrs. Holmes “you both are anxious to desert me. Was ever a lady so treated ? ” “To him who is most anxious to remain, ” said Mr. Hampton, “and who would gladly de vote liis life to your service, you give no per mission to stay. ” “Oh! I am grateful to you both; to you, Mr. Hampton, for saving my life, and to you, Mr. Morton, for endeavoring to do so. It was not your fault that you could not got far enough be fore to stop my horse.” “I take no credit to myself,” was tho reply; though it was true, that it was not for lack of nerve, that Ed. failed to do what Uncle Charley did, but for the very reason stated by Mrs. Holmes. By this time wo all rodo up, and entreated Mrs. Holmes to make tho exchange offered by Uncle Charley. Finally she consented. “I am in disgrace now,” said Ed. Morton, as ho galloped off, “and am going home." The party mounted and rodo back toward tho