the officers' old boots à merveille, and made leather digestible! not to speak of the hot rolls made of saw-dust and a few chestnuts! Finally, the Soyer of that age made his dependents confident that if they cut off their left arms, and fought with their right,' he could make wholesome food from the lost members!

The artistic skill of cooks is shewn frequently in ornament as well as in substantial matters. The graceful centre-dishes, and garnishings of sugar, &c.; the vegetable flowers, architectural jellies, the blending of colours, are all proofs of this power. The culinary art appeals to the eye as well as to the palate, and charms three or four senses at once. In the age of chivalry, a fortress of pasty stands, attacked by mimic warriors, on the centre of the baron's board. As taste and knowledge spread, lighter and more fanciful devices appear. Barleysugar baskets and turrets emulate topazes in clearness and brilliancy, and 'dough' becomes the instrument for the art of a modeller, who might vie with the sculptor, the material taken into consideration.

It was the despair of the Duke of Tuscany's cook for a lacking centre-ornament that brought to light the genius of Canova-the boy, who was lingering about the kitchen-so runs the tale-offering to supply the want, and forming from dough and white sugar so perfect a lion that the duke, perceiving his talent, took him under his own care, and he became the great sculptor of modern times.

Of all people, the negroes are most generally gifted with the skill required for the culinary art. This is shewn, we think, by the choice of a negro for cook on board almost all ships of war. We remember well when we-in our childhood-dwelt on board a manof-war possessing such a cook; and in how many points our Black John' partook of the idiosyncrasy of greater artists; for he was a genius in his way, and delighted in all things beautiful. We can see him now! How he used to strut down the deck, with a certain dignity about him too; there was no lack of self-appreciation in John. How he ordered his subordinates, the boys attached to the galley; and how marvellously quick he was in understanding a "receipt' for even the most difficult and delicate operations of his art. There was nothing he could not do, though our mother, from some slight prejudice as to his colour-we ourselves thought it was because it would come off'-did not permit him to make pastry for us. He liked flowers very much; and in return for some gift of sweets, we presented him with a flower-pot, containing our only flower-a marigold! He was amusingly diverted by the gift, declaring, 'Marigold proper flower for cook, 'cos good to put in soup.' We had even then read a little of Shakspeare, and quoted instantly the verses:

The marigold that goes to bed with the sun,
And with him rises weeping.

Black John was charmed; he made us repeat the lines again and again, till he knew them; and afterwards we heard him, negro-fashion, singing them to a tune of his own-one of those wild melodies which prove how much of the artist's soul dwells often in the bosom of the blackamoor.

But it was-as we said at the commencement of this article-reserved for our own day to shew us the value of cookery as an art, and the idiosyncrasy of cooks in its best form. When our armies were perishing for lack of nourishment rather than food for they had enough to spoil-a cook, with the selfconsciousness of power, and chivalrous feeling peculiar to the character we have tried to draw, volunteered to go and aid the sufferers with the best resources of his skill. He went, and was successful, and raised for ever his art and the skill of its followers in the

estimation of Europe and the East. With the names of the brave men who fought and fell by the shores of the Euxine, will be united hereafter the name and memory of Soyer the cook.

OÇE OLA:

A ROMANCE.

CHAPTER LXXX.-SIGNAL-SHOTS.

I SHALL not attempt to depict my emotions at that moment; my pen is unequal to the task. Think, thou, of my situation, and fancy them if thou canst. Behind me, a mother murdered and basely mutilated-a near relative slain in like fashion-my home -my property given to the flames. Before me a sister torn from the maternal embrace, borne ruthlessly along by savage captors-perhaps outraged by their fiendish leader. And he, too, under my eyes, the false perfidious friend-the ravisher-the murderer! Had I not cue for indulging in the wildest emotions?

And wild they were-each moment becoming wilder as I gazed upon the object of my vengeance. They were fast rising beyond my control. My muscles seemed to swell with renewed rage; the blood coursed through my veins like streams of liquid fire.

I almost forgot the situation in which we were. But one thought was in my mind-vengeance. Its object was before me—unconscious of my presence as if he had been asleep-almost within reach of my hand-perfectly within range of my rifle.

I raised the piece to the level of those drooping plumes; I sighted their tips; I knew that the eyes were underneath them; my finger rested against the trigger.

In another instant, that form-in my eyes, hitherto heroic-would have lain lifeless upon the grass; but my comrades forbade the act.

With a quick instinct, Hickman grasped the lock of my gun, covering the nipple with his broad palm; while Weatherford clutched at the barrel. I was no longer master of the piece.

I was angry at the interruption, but only for an instant; a moment's reflection convinced me they had acted right. The old hunter, putting his lips close to my ear, addressed me in an earnest whisper:

'Not yit, Geordie-not yit: for your life, don't make a fuss. "Twould be no use to kill him. The rest o' the varmints ud be sartin to git off, an' sartin to toat the weemen along wi' 'em. We three ain't enough to stop 'em; we'd only git sculped ourselves. We must slide back for the others, an' then we'll be able to surround 'em: that's the idea-ain't it, Jim?'

Weatherford, fearing to trust his voice, nodded an affirmative.

'Come, then!' added Hickman, in the same low whisper. We musn't lose a minute. Let's git back as rapid as possyble. Keep yur backs low down-genteelly, genteelly!' and, as he continued giving these injunctions, he faced towards the ground, extended his body to its full length, and crawling off like an alligator, was soon lost behind the trunks of the trees.

Weatherford and I followed in similar fashion, until safe beyond the circle of the firelight, when all three rose erect to our feet.

We stood for a moment listening backward. We

were not without anxiety lest our retreat might have disturbed the camp; but no sounds reached us save those to which we had been listening-the snore of some sleeping savage, the 'crop-crop' of the browsing horse, or the stamp of a hoof upon the firm turf.

Satisfied that we had passed away unobserved, we started upon the back-track, which the hunters could now follow like a path well known to them. Dark as it was, we advanced almost in a run, and were progressing rapidly, when our speed was suddenly checked by the report of a gun.

Each halted as if shot in his tracks. Surprise it was that stopped us, for the report came not from the Indian camp, but the opposite direction-that in which our party had been left.

But it could not be one of them who had fired? They were at too great a distance-or should have been-for their guns to have been heard so distinctly. Had they advanced, tired waiting for our return? Were they still advancing? If so, the shot was most imprudent; it would be certain to put the camp on the qui vive. What had they fired at? It might have been an accidental discharge-it must have been.

These conjectures were rapid as thoughts can be: we did not communicate them to one another; each had them of himself.

We had scarcely time to speak to one another, when a second shot rang in our ears. It came from the same direction as the former, appearing almost a repetition; and had there been time to re-load, we should have so deemed it. But there had not been time, even for the most accomplished rifleman. Two guns, therefore, had been fired.

My companions were puzzled as well as myself. The firing was inexplicable under any other hypothesis than that some Indians had strayed from their camp, and were making signals of distress.'

6

We had no time to reflect. We could now hear behind us the camp in full alarm, and we knew it was the shots that had caused it. We heard the shouts of men-the neighing and hurried trampling of horses.

Without pausing longer, we again took to the track, and hastened onward in the direction of our friends. Farther on, we perceived some men on horseback. Two there appeared to be-though in the darkness we were not certain, as their forms were scarcely distinguishable.

They appeared to retreat as we approached, gliding off like ghosts among the trees. No doubt these were they who had fired the shots; they were just in the direction whence the reports had come, and at the proper distance.

Were they Indians or whites?

Risking the chance of their being our foes, old Hickman hailed them.

We paused to listen. There was no reply-not even an exclamation from either. We could hear, by the hoof-strokes of their horses, that they were hurrying off in a direction altogether different from that either of our friends or foes.

There was something mysterious in the behaviour of these two horsemen. For what purpose had they fired their guns? If to signal the camp, why had they retreated from us as we came forward? Why, moreover, had they gone off in a direction that did not lead to the camp-since its position was now known to them by the noise of the alarm they had themselves occasioned?

To me, their behaviour was inexplicable. Hickman appeared to have found some clue to it, and the knowledge seemed to produce a singular effect upon him. He exhibited signs of astonishment, mingled with feelings of indignation.

'Devil swamp 'em! the wuthless skunks, if't are them; an' I'm good as sure it are. I can't a be

What say

mistaken in the crack o' them two guns.
ye, Jim Weatherford? Di ye reconnize 'em?'

'I war thinkin' I'd heern them afore-somewhars, but I can't 'zactly tell whar. Stay: one on 'em 's preecious like the ring o' Ned Spence's rifle.'

'Preecious like-it are the same, an' tother's Bill Willims. What on airth kin the two be arter? We left 'em 'long wi' the rest, an' hyar they are-I'm sure it's them-gallivantin' about through the woods, an' firin' off thar guns to spoil everything we've done. They've sot the Indyuns off to a sartinty. Devil swamp 'em both! what kin they be arter? Some hellniferous game, I 'spect. By the tarnal catawampus! I'll make both on 'em pay for this when we git thegither. Come on quick, fellers! Let's git the party up, or we'll be too late. Them Indyuns 'll make tracks, an' slope afore we git near 'em. Durn the shots! they've spoilt the hul bizness. Quick-come along hyar!'

Following the old hunter's direction, we hurried on after him.

CHAPTER LXXXI.

AN EMPTY CAMP.

We had not gone far before we were within earshot of voices, mingled with the hollow thumping of horses' hoofs.

We recognised the voices as those of our comrades, and hailed them as they came nearer, for we perceived that they were advancing towards us. They had heard the reports; and, believing them to proceed from our rifles, had fancied we were engaged with the Indians, and were now riding up to our aid.

·

Hullow, boys!' shouted Hickman as they drew near, 'is Bill Willims an' Ned Spence among ye? Speak out if ye be.'

There was no reply to this interrogatory; it was succeeded by a dead silence of some seconds' duration. Evidently the two men were not there, else they would have answered for themselves.

'Where are they?' 'Where have they gone to ?" were the inquiries that passed through the crowd.

'Ay, whar are they?' repeated Hickman. "Thar not hyar, that's plain. By the tarnal allygator! thar 's some ugly game afoot atween 'em two fellers. But come, boys! we must forrad. The Indyuns is jest afore ye. It's no use creepin' any more-thar a gwine to slope, an' ef we don't git up to 'em in three shakes o' a squirrel's tail, thar won't be a cussed redskin o' 'em on the groun'. Hooraw for sculps! Look to yur guns. Let's forrad, an' gie 'em partickler tarnation!'

And with this emphatic utterance, the old hunter dashed into the front, and led the way towards the camp of the savages.

The men followed, helter-skelter, the horses crowding upon each other's heels. No strategic method was observed; time was the important consideration; and our aim was to get up to their camp before the Indians could retreat from it. A bold charge into the midst of our enemies-a volley from our guns, with knives and pistols to close the conflict-this was the programme that had been hastily agreed upon.

We had arrived near the camp-within three hundred yards of it. There was no uncertainty as to the direction. The noises from the camp itself, which had continued ever since the first alarm, had served to guide us.

All at once these noises became hushed; no longer reached us, either the voices of men, or the hurried trampling of horses. In the direction of the camp, all was still as death.

We needed no more the guidance of sounds; we were within sight of the fires, or rather of their light, that glittered afar among the trees: with this as our beacon, we continued to advance.

We no longer rode rashly forward. The change from confused noise to perfect silence had been so sudden, so abrupt, as to have the effect of making us more cautious. The very stillness appeared ominous. We read in it a warning; it rendered us suspicious of an ambuscade-the more so, that all had heard of the great talents of the 'red stick chief' for this very mode of attack. We approached, therefore, with greater prudence.

When within a hundred yards of the fires, our party halted. Several dismounted, and advanced on foot. These glided from trunk to trunk till they had reached the edge of the opening, and then came back to report.

The camp was no longer in existence; its occupants were gone; Indians, horses, captives, plunder all had disappeared from the ground; the fires alone remained! These bore evidence of being disturbed in the confusion of the hasty decampment. The red embers were strewed over the ground, their last flames faintly flickering away.

The scouts continued to advance among the trees, till they had made the full circuit of the opening. For a hundred yards around it, the woods were searched with caution and care, but no enemy was found-no ambuscade. We had arrived too late; our savage foes had escaped us, and carried off their captives from under our very eyes.

of the scouts, or that Indians were near-that they had got lost in the woods, and had fired their guns as signals in hopes that we might answer them. They acknowledged having met three men afoot, but they fancied them to be Indians, and had kept out of their way-that afterwards seeing the party near, they had recognised and ridden up to it.

Most of the men were contented with the explanation. What motive, reasoned they, could the two have in giving an alarm to the enemy? Who could suspect them of rank treason? Not all were satisfied. I heard old Hickman whisper some significant words to his comrade, as he glanced towards the estrays.

'Keep yur eye skinned, Jim, an' watch the skunks well-thar's somethin' not hulsome about 'em.'

As there was no one who could openly accuse them, they were once more admitted into the ranks; and were now among those who were stretched out and sleeping.

The wretches lay close to the edge of the water. In my rounds I passed them repeatedly; and in the sombre darkness I could just distinguish their prostrate forms. I regarded them with strange emotions, for I shared the suspicions of Hickman and Weatherford. I could scarcely doubt that these fellows had strayed off on purpose-that, actuated by some foul motive, they had fired their guns to warn the Indians of the approach of our party. There was no

By midnight there was a moon.

Our first care was to quench our thirst by the pond, then that of our animals. The fires were next extinguished; and a ring of sentries-consisting of nearly half the number of our party-was placed among the tree-trunks that stood thickly around the opening. The horses were staked over the ground; and this done, the men stretched themselves along the sward, so lately occupied by the bodies of their foemen.

In this wise we awaited the dawning of day.

CHAPTER LXXXII.

A DEAD FOREST.

My comrades, wearied with the long ride, were soon in deep slumber, the sentries only remaining awake. For me was neither rest nor sleep-my misery forbade repose. Most of the night I spent in pacing to and fro around the pond, that lay darkly gleaming in the centre of the open ground.

I fancied I found relief in thus roving about-it seemed to still the agitation of my spirit-it prevented my reflections from becoming too intense.

A new regret occupied my thoughts-I regretted that I had not succeeded in my intention to fire at the chief of the murderers-I regretted I had not killed him on the spot: the monster had escaped, and my sister was now perhaps beyond the power of rescue.

I blamed the hunters for having hindered me. Had they foreseen the result, they might have acted otherwise; but it was beyond human foresight to have anticipated the alarm.

The two men who had caused it were again with us. Their conduct, so singular and mysterious, had given rise to strong suspicions of their loyalty; and their re-appearance-they had joined us while advancing towards the camp-had been hailed with an outburst of angry menace. Some even talked of shooting them out of their saddles; and this threat would most probably have been carried into effect, had the fellows not offered a ready explanation. They alleged that they had separated from the troop before it made its last halt-that they knew nothing of the advance

The noise had put every one on the alert. A few talked of continuing the pursuit by the light of the moon. Such a course would have coincided with my own wishes, but the hunter-guides opposed it. Their reasons were just. In open ground, they could have lifted the trail, but under the timber, the moon's light would not avail them. True, they could have tracked by torchlight, but this would only be to expose us to an ambuscade of the enemy. Even to advance by moonlight would be to subject ourselves to a like danger. Circumstances had changed. The savages now knew we were after them. In a night-march, the pursued have the advantage of the pursuers-even though the numbers be inferior. The darkness gives them every facility of effecting either an attack or escape.

Thus reasoned the guides. No one made opposition to their views, and it was agreed that we should keep the ground till daylight.

It was time to change the sentinels. Those who had slept, now took post; while the relieved guard came in, and flung themselves down to snatch a few hours of rest.

Williams and Spence took their turn with the rest. They were posted on one side of the glade, and next to one another.

Hickman and Weatherford had fulfilled their tour -as they stretched themselves along the grass, I noticed that they had chosen a spot near to where the suspected men had been placed. By the moonlight, they must have had a view of the latter.

Notwithstanding their recumbent attitudes, the hunters did not appear to go to sleep. I observed them at intervals. Their heads were close together, and slightly raised above the ground, as if they were whispering to one another.

As before, I walked round and round. The moonlight enabled me to move more rapidly, and this eased my spirit. Oft-times I made the circuit of the little pond-how oft, it would be difficult to determine. My steps were mechanical. My thoughts had no

connection with the physical exertions I was making, and I took no note of how I progressed.

After a time there came a stillness over my soul. For a short interval, both my griefs and vengeful passions seemed to have departed. I knew the cause. It was a mere psychological phenomenon-one of common Occurrence. The nerves that were the organs of the peculiar emotions under which I was suffering, had grown wearied, and refused any longer to vibrate.

I knew it was but a temporary calm-the lull between two billows of the storm-but during its continuance I was sensible to impressions from external objects.

I could not help noticing the singularity of the scene around me. The bright moonlight enabled me to note its features somewhat minutely.

We were inside what by backwoodsmen is technically termed a glade-oftener in their idiom a 'gleed' a small opening in the woods without timber or underwood of any sort. This one was circular-about fifty yards in diameter and with the peculiarity of having a pond in its midst. The pond, which was only a few yards in circumference, was also a circle, perfectly cocentric with the glade itself. It was one of those singular natural basins found throughout the peninsula, and appearing as if scooped out by mechanic art. It was deeply sunk in the earth, and filled with water till within three feet of its rim. The water was cool and clear, and under the moonbeams, shone with a silvery effulgence.

Of the glade itself, nothing more-except that it was covered with sweet-smelling flowers-that, now crushed under the hoofs of horses, and the heels of men, gave forth a double fragrance.

It was a pretty parterre, and under happier circumstances, I should have esteemed it a picture pleasant to contemplate.

But it was not the picture that occupied my attention in that moment; rather was it the framing. Around the glade stood tall trees in a ring, as regularly as if they had been planted; and, beyond these, as far as the eye could penetrate the depths of the forest, were others of like size and aspect. The trunks of all were nearly of one thickness-few of them reaching a diameter of two feet, but all rising to the height of many yards without leaf or branch. They grew somewhat densely over the ground, but in daylight the eye might have ranged to a considerable distance through the intervals-for there was no underwood, save the low dwarf palmetto, to interrupt the view. The trunks were straight, and almost cylindrical as palms; and they might have been mistaken for trees of this order, had it not been for their large heads of leaves terminating in a coneshaped summit.

They were not palms: they were pines-broom' pines*- -a species of tree with which I was perfectly familiar, having ridden many hundreds of miles shaded by the pendant fascicles of their acicular foliage.

The sight of these trees, therefore, would have created no curiosity, had I not noticed in their appearance something peculiar. Instead of the deep green which should have been exhibited by their long drooping leaves, they appeared of a brownish yellow. Was it fancy? or was it the deceptive light of the moon that caused this apparent change in their natural colour?

One or the other, soliloquised I, on first noticing them; but as I continued to gaze, I perceived that I was in error. Neither my own fancy nor the moon's rays were at fault. The foliage was really of the hue it appeared to be. In drawing nearer to them,

I observed that the leaves were withered, though still adhering to the twigs-I noticed, moreover, that the trunks were dry and dead-like-the bark scaled or scaling off-that the trees, in short, were dead.

I now remembered what Hickman had stated while groping for the direction. That was at some distance off; but, as far as I could see, the woods presented the same dun colour. I came to the conclusion that the whole forest was dead.

The inference was correct, and the explanation easy. The sphinx* had been at work. The whole forest was dead.

CHAPTER LXXXIII.

A CIRCULAR CONFLICT.

Strange as it may seem, even in that dread hour these observations had interested me; but while making them, I observed something which gratified me still more. It was the blue dawn that, mingling with the yellower light of the moon, affected the hues of the foliage upon which I was gazing. Morning was about to break.

Others had noticed this at the same instant, and already the sleepers were rising from their dewy couches, and looking to the girths of their saddles.

We were a hungry band, but there was no hope of breakfast, and we prepared to start without it.

The dawn was of only a few minutes' duration; and, as the sky continued to brighten, preparations were made for starting. The sentries were called in-all except four, who were prudently left to the last minute to watch in different directions; the horses were unpicketed, and bridled — they had worn their saddles all night-and the guns of the party were carefully reprimed or capped. Many of my comrades were old campaigners, and every precaution was taken that might influence our success in a conflict. It was expected that before noon we should come up with the savage band, or track it home to its lair. In either case, we should have a fight, and once more all declared their determination to go forward.

A few minutes were spent in arranging the order of our march. It was deemed prudent that some of the more skilled of the men should go forward as scouts on foot, and thoroughly explore the woods in advance of the main body. This would secure us from any sudden attack, in case the enemy had formed an ambuscade. The old hunters were once more to act as trackers, and of course lead the van.

These arrangements were completed, and we were on the point of starting. The men had mounted their horses-the scouts were already entering the edge of the timber; when all on a sudden several shots were heard, and at the same time the alarmcries of the sentries who had fired them. These had not yet been called in; and the four had discharged their pieces almost simultaneously.

The woods appeared to ring with a hundred echoes. But they were not echoes-they were real reports of rifles and musketry; and the shrill warcry that accompanied them was easily distinguished above the shouting of our own men.

The Indians were upon us.

Upon us, or, to speak less figuratively, around us. The four sentries had fired, therefore each had seen Indians in his own direction.

But it needed not this to guide us to the conclusion that we were surrounded. From all sides came the fierce

yells of the foe, as if echoing one another, and their bullets whistled past us in different directions. Beyond doubt, the glade was encompassed within their lines. Their first volley had but little effect. Two or three men were hit, and as many horses; but the balls were weak, and did but trifling harm. From where they had fired, our position was beyond the 'carry' of their guns, and spent bullets were seen plashing dead upon the pond. Had they crept a little nearer, before delivering their fire, the execution would have been fearful, clumped together as we were within the opening.

Fortunately, our staunch guards had perceived their approach, and in good time given the alarm. It had saved us.

These are after-thoughts. At that crisis, no one paused to reflect. The nature of the attack was apparent to all of us; it was a 'surround,' and the best mode of meeting it was our only thought.

There was a momentary confusion with much noise -the shouting of men, mingled with the neighing and prancing of horses; but above the din was heard the guiding voice of Hickman.

'Off o' yer hosses, fellers! an' take to the trees. Down wi'ye, quick! To the trees, an' keep 'em back! or by the tarnal airthquake, every mother's son o' us 'll git sculped! To the trees!-to the trees!' The same idea had already suggested itself to others; and before the hunter had ceased calling out his directions, the men were out of their saddles, and making for the edge of the timber.

Some ran to one side, some to another-each making for the tree that was nearest him-and in a few seconds our whole party had ensconced itself -the body of each individual sheltered behind the trunk of a pine. In this position, we formed a perfect circle, our backs turned upon each other, and our faces to the foe.

Our horses thus hurriedly abandoned, and wild with the excitement of the attack, galloped madly over the ground, with trailing bridles, and stirrups striking against their flanks. Most of them dashed past us; and, scampering off through the trees, were either caught by the savages, or having broken past them, escaped into the woods beyond.

We made no attempt to 'head' them. The bullets were hurtling past our ears. It would have been certain death to have stepped aside from the trunks that sheltered us.

Our men were not slow in returning the enemy's fire. In a few seconds their guns were at play; and every now and then was heard the sharp whip-like 'spang' of their rifles around the circle of the glade. At intervals, too, rose a triumphant cheer, as some savage, who had too rashly exposed his red body, was known to have fallen to the shot.

Again the voice of the old hunter rang over the glade. Cool, calm, and clear, it was heard by every one. 'Mind yer hind-sights, boys! an' shoot sure. Don't waste neer a grain o' yer powder. Ye'll need the hul on't afore we 've done wi' the cussed niggers. Don't a one o' ye pull trigger till ye've drawed a bead on a redskin's eye.'

These injunctions were full of significance. Hitherto, the younger 'hands' had been firing somewhat recklessly-discharging their pieces as soon as loaded, and only wounding the trunks of the trees. It was to stay this proceeding that Hickman had spoken.

His words produced the desired effect. The reports became less frequent, but the triumphant cheer that betokened a 'hit' was heard as often as ever.

In a few minutes after the first burst of the battle, the conflict assumed altogether a new aspect. The wild yells uttered by the Indians in their first onslaught-intended to drive us into confusion-were no longer heard; and the shouts of the white men had also ceased. Only now and then rose the deep 'hurrah' of triumph, or a shout from some of our party to give encouragement to his comrades.

At intervals rang out the 'Yo-ho-ehee,' uttered by some warrior-chief to stimulate his braves to the attack.

The shots were no longer in volleys, but single, or two and three at a time. Every shot was fired with an aim; and it was only when that aim proved trueor he who fired it believed it so-that voices were heard on either side. Each individual was too much occupied in looking for an object for his aim, to waste time in idle words or shouts.

Perhaps, in the whole history of war, there is no account of a conflict so quietly carried on--no battle so silently fought. In the interludes between the shots there were moments when the stillness was intense-moments of awful and ominous silence.

Disposed as we now were, our antagonists had not much advantage. The trunks of the trees intrenched us both. Only the concave side of our line was exposed, and the enemy might fire at it across the glade. But as the opening was fifty yards in diameter, and at no point had we permitted the Indians to get up to its edge, we knew that their bullets could not carry across; and therefore had no apprehension on this score.

The manoeuvre, improvised though it was, had proved our salvation. We now saw it was the only thing we could have done to save ourselves from immediate destruction. Fortunate it was that the voice of Hickman had hurried us so quickly to our posts.

each other, without closing in hand-to-hand conflict. We could have conversed with our antagonists without raising our voices above the ordinary tone; and were enabled to aim, literally, at the 'whites of their eyes!'

Under such circumstances was the contest carried on.

TO THE EDITORS OF CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. GENTLEMEN-In the series of papers contributed to your periodical by the gifted author of John Halifax, Gentleman, and recently published in a collected form, under the title of A Woman's Thoughts about Women, occur two serious misrepresentations of the doctrines of the Bible.

To your ever-present desire to disseminate truth, not falsehood-to inform, not to misinform, the people, the labours of your lives give unequivocal testimony. In accordance with the principles by which your efforts to popularise knowledge have ever been guided, you will