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tious for the honour more than the value of the prize. Thus Somerville describes these contests :

"Room for the master of the ring; ye swains!
Divide your crowded ranks. See! there on high
The glittering prize, on the tall standard borne,
Waving in air; before him march in files
The uusal minstrelsy, the rattling drum
Of solemn sound, and the animating horn-
Each huntsman's joy; the tabor and the pipe-
Companion dear at feasts-whose cheerful notes
Give life and motion to th' unwieldy clown.
E'en age revives, and the pale puking maid
Feels ruddy health rekindling on her cheeks,
And with new vigour trips it o'er the plain.
Counting each careful step, he paces o'er
The allotted ground, and fixes at the goal
His standard; there himself majestic swells.
Stretched in a line, the panting rivals wait
The expected signal, with impatient eyes
Measure the space between, and in conceit
Already grasp the warm-contested prize.
Now all at once rush forward to the goal,
And step by step, and side by side, they ply
Their busy feet, and leave the crowd behind.
Quick heaves each breast, and quick they shoot along
Thro' the divided a r, and bound it o'er the plain.
To this, to that, capricious Fortune deals
Short hope, short fears, and momentary joy.
The breathless throng with open hears pursue,
And broken accents shout imperfect praise.
Such noise coufused is heard, such wild uproar,
When on the main the swelling surges rise,
Dash o'er the rocks, and hurrying through the flood.
Drive o'er each other's backs, and crowd the strand.

Three fleet and slender youths approach the goal nearly abreast; they have singled themselves out from their competitors, who are struggling hopelessly across the plain; but it is a capital contest between the three, and the judge's fiat is given in racing parlance-by a nose.

The humorous vagaries of the Jerusalem pony are amusingly developed. A course is cleared for their especial service, and the jocks parade their pets amid the jocund crowd with becoming dignity. In perfect keeping with the occasion appears young Snowball, the caminarian professor, attired in full May-day costume, in accordance with his ancient order, and "high waving the bush," already congratutates himself as the victor. Young Crocky, the itinerant purveyor of delf, is the next to show, gaily caparisoned in the reduced cast-off attire of a peripatetic clown, bartered from one of those facetious performers at a neighbouring fair for the valuable consideration of a drinking cup, representing an eccentric human mug-an appropriate study for the purchaser. Lilly-vite-sand-O, to be quite in keeping, has begged the blue calico lining of an antique bed-curtain from an old maid with whom he traded, under the pretence that it would "serve his mother's babby for a frock." So much for the most distinguished characters; the others, with the exception of Gipsey Tom, come to the post in their shirt sleeves; but the latter hero sports an ancient hunting-cap, with red-and-yellow decorations on his high-lows. The course is cleared, and they are assembled at the starting-post. Indignant at restraint, one of the

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high-mettled coursers bolts off in a contrary direction; another, defying all the efforts of his rider, and the persuasion of his partizans on foot, persists in running out of the course. Young Crocky takes the lead, till, reaching the first turn, his flyer obstinately persists in his onward course; he eventually stops his Balaam, when a convulsive kick precipitates him on his back. Snowball pegs away might and main; but all at once his steed stops short, and off comes the jock, sprawling on his mother earth with all the composure of a practised steeple-chaser. The struggle is now between Lilly-vite-sand-O and Gipsey Tom; and the latter having come at his own slow pace without impediments, is hailed the winner.

Aspiring youths, emulous of distinction, essay to rise in the world by the assistance of an unctuous pole. Many are the vain attempts to gain the summit; and with what expressions of despair depicted on their visages the unsuccessful competitors descend, like other ambitious mortals, the slippery column of fame! Gipsey Tom ascends the highest, and is rewarded for his exertions with a grand smock-frock.

Jumping in sacks may be classed among the sciences in which all are not professors, though many profess their readiness to exhibit their powers. Grinning through horse-collars produces more broad grins on the visages of the spectators than proceed from the grotesque features of the performers. The serious portion of the community may denounce such diversions as not sufficiently intellectual for the age we live in; but they are productive of merriment free from vicious tendencies; and surely it is far more consistent with the best feelings of the heart to encourage innocent mirth rather than melancholy sadness. When we look calmly around us, through the circle of our own immediate friends, or, taking a wider circuit, include the afflictions which our fellow-creatures have to suffer, that heart must be cold indeed that will not cheerfully respond to every call which is likely to pour balm into their wounds, or by relieving the mind from anxiety increase their happiness. Those who have through this chequered life of vicissitudes undergone the greatest cares, and experienced the greatest disappointments, are almost invariably the readiest to sympathise with grief. The oppressive, unrelenting hand of affliction attunes their hearts. The specious perfidy, the deceptive promises of designing hypocrisy teach men lessons which may be turned to the best purposes. It guards them against repetitions, and it awakens them in behalf of those who are the victims of similar misfortunes. That man is the best friend to his fellow-beings who will exert himself on all seasonable opportunities to supply the cup of pleasure with innocent draughts of social happiness.

The summer is, without question, the most suitable season for all kinds of rural enjoyments; but the customs introduced of late years have operated very materially to reduce the opportunities. I can remember the time when sheep-shearing afforded an opportunity for some rejoicing; but the usages and humours of olden times are mostly banished from the farmer's homestead. Hay-harvest succeeding, another treat was offered to all hands engaged; the remuneration is now confined to the circulating medium. The feast of the year was reserved till the harvest supper; but that, like the other events, has become a matter of history; it is, therefore, I feel assured, highly desirable that due attention be devoted to "the sports of the people."

THE WOLF HUNTER;

OR, WHO'LL BELL THE WOLF?

CHAPTER IV.

Three weeks had slipped away in this manner, and though Ben's heart remained the same and unaltered, still affairs in the settlement had taken quite a different turn. The "town gentleman," as the other hunters usually denominated him, received a letter from Alabama requesting his return to that State as soon as possible. His uncle had suddenly died, and he was his sole heir, and consequently would be obliged to manage affairs there himself, especially as there was a large number of slaves on the estate; he was therefore obliged to return without any further delay, and his love for the fair forest-flower, Sutton's charming daughter, induced him to make an offer of marriage. Before leaving, Mr. Metcalf proposed for her hand on the same day, and although Bessie gave him an unhesitating refusal, still the father, who appeared flattered by the prospect of having such a rich son-in-law, gave his hearty assent, assured his future son-in-law that the girl was only modest and wanted a little pressing, and begged him not to feel at all anxious in the matter. Metcalf would certainly have preferred a more favourable reply from the daughter, or at least not such a decided refusal; but as it could not be helped he seemed satisfied, hoped that by kindness he would first win her friendship and then her love; at least he told the father so, and determined at any rate on giving a feast on the same night as he received the letter, to which all the inhabitants of the settlement were invited, and which he intended should be regarded by them as his festival of betrothal.

The evening arrived, and the Court-house, an unoccupied building made of rough logs, which had formerly served for holding the sessions, and hence had received the name, and which was going to be eventually used as a school, but was now employed as a storehouse, was brilliantly prepared and ornamented for the festivities. Many pounds of waxcandles, made out of the raw yellow wax which the hunters take from the bee-trees after they have been felled, illumined the large room; the floor had been cleaned from all the husks of corn, and benches arranged around for the ladies, as well as a table with a chair upon it shoved into one corner, upon which it was intended that the sole musician, a fiddler, should take his station; in short, everything possible had been done to make the room very comfortable, and anyone who had happened to witness the merriment of the extremely numerous guests assembled at a late hour, would most assuredly have been satisfied with the result. Bessie alone was sorrowful: she thought on her poor Ben, who was now probably wandering about in the forest, and would not take part in the merriment and dancing. Only with difficulty was she induced to enter

the ball-room; but when there; she decidedly declined every invitation, and remained quietly in the place she first occupied, an observer of the surrounding pleasure.

Ben, however, was not without, in the woods, as his poor girl had fancied in her grief; Old Sutton had even invited him expressly to join them, and indeed no one was excluded; but Ben had declined the invitation; still he must remain in the vicinity. Busy friends soon brought him the news that it was intended to be a feast of betrothal, and he intended to witness with his own eyes that Bessie-his Bessie-had really utterly forgotten him, and then he would start for Texas. Uncle Sam was just then recruiting for the war; and such fellows as himself— Ben wanted no mirror to tell him that-met with a speedy and hearty reception into the service. Bashfully and timidly, that no one might recognize him and guess his sufferings, he wandered for nearly an hour. round the house, and listened to the cheerful shrill sound of the violin; he did not dare go nearer and cast a glance within. At last a couple of his acquaintances came out of the house; and, after standing awhile in the doorway, walked together past the spot where Ben was concealed, towards their own dwellings. Ben squeezed himself up as well as he could, behind the trunk of an old hickory that stood there; and one of the men said, as they were close to him,

"Bessie didn't dance a step as long as I was in the house."

"She hasn't done so the whole evening, and declined once for all,” the other replied; "I don't believe she'll have him."

"Ah, bah!" the other said, "you don't know what girls are; he's got money, and in that case"

The remainder of his speech was incomprehensible in the distance; but what did Ben want to have more? The last was a shameful calumny. "Not danced a step!" the young man said with delight to himself, so she is not false then, and cannot forget her Ben. But how can that help you, my poor boy? you've no good fortune-Bessie is lost for you; and if she can't ever forget you-ah! then it would be all the worse for her; but never-never better for you." He took up his rifle which he had concealed in a neighbouring bush, threw a parting glance toward the brilliantly-lighted house, and silently and thoughtfully wandered along the foot-path toward the nearest hill. He could not bear to be in the settlement-least of all at night, and he intended to sleep by his fireside in the open air. A spot was soon discovered by a bubbling spring, which poured here from the rocky soil; a fire lighted; and wrapped in his blanket he lay there, with a stone serving as a pillow, and looked up thoughtfully and earnestly to the stars that glistened so amicably above him. In the wood all was marvellously quiet; even the frogs did not croak so furiously and regularly as was generally the case. He could distinctly and plainly hear the stealthy movement of the opossum, as it crawled to commit its nocturnal robbery among the chickens of the settlement; and there behind him-he raised his head and listened for a moment-in truth it was a wolf, which was howling its heartbreaking evening song upon the summit of the mountain. "Whine away, you beast," he at length muttered, and sank back into his former position; "whine away, but keep out of my reach: I have a great inclination to serve out your sort, and some one else too, this evening." For a half-hour he lay thus, and sought to recal his

thoughts to the plans he had previously formed, but it was not possible; the continually approaching howl of the wolf attracted his attention to the spot; and now, " By Heavens that was not so far off," another voice replied from a ravine in his rear, where the whole pack was concealed, as he eventually discovered. He sprang up quickly from his bed, and seized his rifle; the moon was just rising bright and cheerily from behind the gloomy shade of the distant hills; his old love of sport was aroused, and it dissipated, momentarily at least, every other thought. He was upon a highly favourable spot, rather open, and brilliantly lighted by the moon, between the pack and the solitary straggler that was now returning to it. His fire had burned low, and the still glimmering embers did not startle the animals, as there are continually fires in the woods, and wolf and deer are accustomed to meet with them on their path. A tree blown down by the wind, and which lay in the direction of the valley, offered him a famous ambuscade.

"You scoundrel," he muttered, as he seized his rifle and glided behind the tree; "just come out of the bush, and Ben Hope will give you a treat."

He raised his rifle on the tree, pointed it in the direction whence he expected the stray wolf-for the pack generally wait in the same place until the straggler has rejoined them—and then waited long and patiently but the wolf would not make his appearance. Had the brute perceived anything? but the wind was in the right quarter. Hope laid his rifle in the tree, held his hands funnel-wise to his mouth, and gave a fearful howl; the sound was a splendid imitation, and echoed in the most melancholy manner through the wood. But although no voice replied in the direction where the straggler must be, Ben was much too good a hunter not to be on his guard, or, by precipitation, to lose the advantage he had gained. He again took up his rifle quietly, renained in his old position, and awaited the result. This did not take long the wolf gave no reply, it is true; but that was because he was so near; and as Ben, with the most anxious attention, was listening for the slightest sound, he suddenly heard hurried but cautious footfalls in the dry foliage of the adjoining trees. Trot, trot, trot, trot—and the brute stopped once more; it was scenting. It had probably received the smoke in its nostrils. The wolf, indeed, always crosses a clearing with extreme caution, not only because it apprehends danger personally, but at the same time is looking out for its prey. Ben could distinctly hear the footsteps from where he was standing, but could not see the exact spot, and did not dare to move, because he did not know whether the brute's eyes might not at this moment be fixed on the spot where he lay. He dare not give a second cry; the distance was much too trifling for the cunning brute not to notice the deception, and recognize the false summons. Nothing was left him then, but to remain quiet and motionless until the animal stepped out into the moonlight.

Suddenly the pack was again heard yelling loudly behind him, a little to the right, and a triumphant smile crossed Ben's face, but it as soon gave way to an expression of the most painful excitement, for at the same moment the wolf, who appeared to have made up its mind after the last call, walked out from the gloomy shade upon the open ground, upon which only a few small bushes were growing. Ben's heart beat almost audibly, but his arm was as firm as iron; he

quietly raised his

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