did he, at the appropriateness of the proverb. We mounted and were off. At first Vaughan's mare was restive, but he soon made her almost as calm as himself, and trotted quietly on by the side of Flora and her mistress. The Colonel, finding his plans were making things worse instead of better, determined that, if the mare would not go of her own accord, he 'd make her, and slipping behind his guest and daughter, he managed, unobserved, to strike the mare a smart blow. It had the desired effect; the rein was loose, and in an instant, seizing the bit in her teeth, she was off. But she was not alone in her race. Flora also was a horse of spirit; her rein was also loose, and, started by the sudden spring of her comrade, she was off like an arrow, too. Away, away they went, now on the hill, now lost from sight in the valley, scattering to the right and left those of our company who were in advance. Away, away they still went, side by side, like riders on the course. Presently we saw them rising the side of a hill upon a path which deviated from the main road, and which, as we all knew, terminated in an abrupt precipice, where the hill had been dug away for stone.

The Colonel, who had ridden on in silence and evident anxiety, when he saw the route the runaways had taken, set his horse at full speed, shouting as he did so, "Ride! for Heaven's sake, ride, gentlemen! On! on! They will be over the bluff, they will be killed! For God's sake ride, ride to their rescue!" and he was off, too, like the wind. We followed him as we could. I saw the fugitives near the top of the hill; I saw Vaughan struggling with his horse, and then he was by Ellen's side, and, as I thought, catching at her bridle, and then we swept down into the hollow and lost sight of them. When we gained the next ridge, there was but one horse to be seen, and but one figure, and that was not erect. On, on we spurred, and now the whole party is racing up the hill-side. The horse that is in sight

is Flora, the kneeling figure is Ellen. I shuddered as I thought of the fate of my late comrade. Nearer and nearer we come, and now we see that Ellen is leaning over something. It is Vaughan, senseless and bathed in blood, and she is chafing his temples. Her father is at her side, and in a moment we all surround the group.

A physician chanced to be of the party, and, while he took charge of the wounded man, I walked to the edge of the precipice; the mutilated, but still quivering, creature my friend had ridden lay among the rocks below.

A few words from Ellen told the tale. Vaughan found they were approaching certain destruction, and, nearing Ellen, he managed to grasp her rein, and throwing himself from his own horse, by his weight he succeeded in stopping Flora in time, but only by being himself trodden under foot and almost killed. The physician pronounced that he was only stunned, and had a few ribs broken, that was all. He was taken home on a litter made of boughs by some of the woodsmen, and placed in bed. Ellen and her father returned together, and neither, I observed, said one word. For forty-eight hours it was doubtful if Vaughan would live or die, but the third day he was much better. About noon of that day the Colonel came in, and, after sitting a few minutes in silence, holding the sick man's hand, "Edward," said he," you 've not only saved Ellen's life, but have saved me from being a murderer, and of my own and only child," and he laid his face upon the bed. "Colonel Marshall," said Vaughan, "I know all that you have done, and forgive you. You meant me no harm, and though your conduct was rash, it was not criminal." "Do you forgive me!" and the old man raised his hand to heaven. I may hope my Maker will forgive me. I have suffered more in two days than in for I felt myself a murderer; but you have relieved me from that load of guilt. For Ellen, I know your wishes;

"Then

Edward Vaughan, all past time else,

you've saved her, and she 's yours." to receive her from your hands, Sir." live. Come, my dear fellow, none of live, you'll soon be well."

"I hope I may live "Live! you shall that talk; you must

We staid another week for Vaughan's sake. He recov ered rapidly, and though nothing was said to Ellen by any one, yet from certain symptoms, the lotions and beverages that she made, and the way she administered them, it was evident to me that Coleridge, poor fellow, would soon be neglected, and another "Friend" studied and noted; and that as to Jeremy Taylor, he would thenceforth be seldom called upon, except, perhaps, for his sermon on the marriage ring.

38*

THE JUDGE'S HUNT.

DENNIS O'SHAUGHNESSY was as true an Irish lad as ever was born in the county of Tipperary. His father, who was always in hot water, - perhaps because he never would meddle with cold,- mourned and drank so hard at his poor wife's wake that he soon slept himself in consequence; and, Dennis was left with scarce a friend in the world, save the old sow that suckled him.

There's a bump on an Irishman's head for whiskey; and the poor little O'Shaughnessy had been taught early in life to believe that drinking the "raal potheen " was no more than a short-hand way of eating potatoes; and now that he was a lone orphan boy, he kissed his foster-mother, and, giving her a breakfast of the raw material, took himself a little of the essence, from the big jug that had murdered his father.

At eighteen years of age, as near as he could guess, Dennis came to America, as sturdy a young tippler as ever worked in a canal; full to the brim of fun, fight, and forgiveness; ready to work well and faithfully for six days, if at the end of the six he could have one to himself, on which to enjoy a "raal drunk.” On one of the countless waves of emigration, Dennis was cast over the mountains, and landed in a small settlement in the east of Kentucky, among the Knobs, a part of the world where men sell their wives for

rifles, and swap off a promising family for a race-horse. It is here that my story catches him.

So much for my hero; now let me introduce the lady. Contentment Carter was born in the valley of the Housatonic, in the west of the respectable, and once great, State of Massachusetts.

"She was not very beautiful, if beautiful it be

To have a forehead and a lip transparent as the sea."

No, she was freckled, and had a pug nose; and yet, to the swains of her native village, she was "dreadful pooty," there was such a good-natured cast in her eye, and so sweet a welcome in her smile. She broke half a dozen hearts before she was twenty, though most of them were coopered up again by other damsels of the neighbourhood; and yet, when twenty-five came, she was still but "Tent Carter, and on the savage side of the Alleghanies.

But here she found another beau more devoted than even those of her native valley, our friend Dennis, of course, known at first as "Dennis the Biter," in contradistinction to some in the settlement who were only snappers, but of late more generally called "Dennis the Sponge," in compliment to his unlimited powers of soaking. "Tent Carter, however, was not the girl to marry a man whose gains were mere consolidated whiskey, and whose clothes were all in tatters, in short, of such loose habits, and so she told him, and left him to choose between a wife and a whiskey-bottle.

Things had staggered to and fro in this way for a year or more, when I arrived at the settlement, in company with my respected friend, Judge R, the judge of that district. Being unable to go to business at once, in consequence of the court-house having been used as a barn during harvest, we spent the first day after arriving, I in shooting, the Judge in assisting the settlers to finish a large log building, wherein justice was for a time to abide. At evening, we again assembled round the ample fireplace.