CHAPTER X THINK NOT I LOVE HIM, THOUGH I ASKED FOR HIM, It is but a peevish boy, yet he talks well. But what care-eye for words? UNATRIBUTED A week passed in the usual routine of a garrison. Mabel was becoming used to a situation that, at first, she had found not only novel, but a little irksome, and the officers and men in their turn, gradually familiarized to the presence of a young and blooming girl, whose attire and carriage had that air of modest gentility about them, which she had obtained in the family of her patroness, annoyed her less by their ill-concealed admiration, while they gratified her by the respect which she was feigned to think. They paid her on account of her father, but which, in truth, was more to be attributed to her own modest but spirited deportment than to any deference to the worthy sergeant. Acquaintances made in a forest, or in any circumstances of unusual excitement, soon attained their limits. Mabel found one week's residence at Oswego sufficient to determine her as to those with whom she might be intimate and those whom she ought to avoid. The sort of neutral position occupied by her father, who was not an officer, while he was so much more than a common soldier, by keeping her aloof from the two great classes of military life less than the number of those whom she was compelled to know, and made the duty of decision comparatively easy. Still, she soon discovered that there were a few, even among those that could aspire to a seat at the common dance table, who were disposed to overlook the halberd for the novelty of a well-turned figure and of a pretty winning face, and by the end of the first two or three days she had admirers even among the gentlemen. The quartermaster in particular, a middle-aged soldier who had more than once tried the blessings of matrimony already, but was now a widower, was evidently disposed to increase his intimacy with a sergeant, though his duties often brought them together, and the youngsters among his messmates did not fail to note that this man of method, who was a scotsman of the name of Muir, was much more frequent in his visits to the quarters of his subordinate that had formerly been his walt. A laugh or a joke in honor of the sergeant's daughter, however, limited their strictures, though Mabel Dunham was soon a toast that even the ensign or the lieutenant did not disdain to give. At the end of the week Duncan of Lundy said for Sergeant Dunham, after evening row-call, on business of a nature that, it was understood, required a personal conference. The old veteran dwelt in a movable hut, which, being placed on trucks, he could order to be wheeled about at pleasure, sometimes living in one part of the area within the fort, and sometimes in another. On the present occasion he had made a halt near the center, and there he was found by his subordinate, who was admitted to his presence without any delay or dancing attendance in an ante-chamber. In point of fact there was very little difference in the quality of the accommodations allowed to the officers, and those allowed to the men, the former being merely granted the most room. "'Walk in, Sergeant, walk in, my good friend,' said old Lundy heartily, as his inferior stood in a respectful attitude at the door of a sort of library and bedroom into which he had been ushered. "'Walk in and take a seat on that stool. I have sent for you, man, to discuss anything but rosters and payrolls this evening. It is now many years since we have been comrades, and odd lang-sign should count for something even between a major and his orderly, a scot and a yankie.  It has been a fine day, Sergeant.' "'It has indeed, Major Duncan,' returned the other, who, though he complied so far as to take the seat, was much too practice not to understand the degree of respect it was necessary to maintain in his manner. "'A very fine day, sir. It has been, and we may look for more of them at this season.' "'I hope so with all my heart. The crops look well as it is, man, and you'll be finding that the fifty-fifth make almost as good farmers as soldiers. I never saw better potatoes in Scotland than we are likely to have in that new patch of ours.' They promise a good yield, Major Duncan, and, in that light, a more comfortable winter than the last. Life is progressive, Sergeant, in its comforts as well as its need of them. We grow old, and I begin to think at time to retire and settle in life. I feel that my working days are nearly over. The King, God bless him, sir, has much good service in your honour yet.' "'It may be so, Sergeant Dunham, especially if it should happen to have a spare Lieutenant Colonelcy left. The fifty-fifth will be honoured the day that commission is given to Duncan of Lundy, sir.' "'And Duncan of Lundy will be honoured the day he receives it. But, Sergeant, if you have never had a Lieutenant Colonelcy, you have had a good wife, and that is the next thing to rank in making a man happy.' "'I have been married, Major Duncan, but it is now a long time since I have had no drawback on the love I bear his Majesty and my duty.' "'What, man, not even the love you bear, that active little round-limbed rosy cheek daughter that I have seen in the fort these last few days? Out upon you, Sergeant! Old fellow as I am! I could almost love that little assy myself, and send the Lieutenant Colonelcy to the devil.' "'We all know where Major Duncan's heart is, and that is in Scotland, where a beautiful lady is ready and willing to make him happy as soon as his own sense of duty shall permit.' "'I hope it's ever a far-off thing, Sergeant,' returned the Superior, a shade of melancholy passing over his hard Scottish features as he spoke. "'And, buddy, Scotland is a far-off country. "'Well, if they have no heather and oatmeal in this region, we have venison for the killing of it, and salmon is plenty as in Burwick-upon-Tweed. "'Is it true, Sergeant, that the men complain of having been over-venisoned and over-pigeoned of lake?' "'Not for some weeks, Major Duncan, for neither deer nor birds are so plenty at this season as they have been. They begin to throw their remarks about concerning the salmon, but I trust we shall get through the summer without any serious disturbance on the score of food. The Scotch and the Battalion do, indeed, talk more than is prudent of their want of oatmeal, grumbling occasionally of our wheat and bread. "'Ah, that is human nature, Sergeant, pure, unadulterated Scotch human nature. A cake-man, to say the truth, is an agreeable morsel, and I often see the time when I pine for a bite myself.' If feeling gets to be troublesome, Major Duncan, in the men I mean, sir, for I would not think of saying so disrespectful a thing to your honour. But if the men ever pine seriously for their natural food, I would humbly recommend that some oatmeal be imported, or prepared in this country for them, and I think we shall hear no more of it. A very little would answer for a cure, sir.' "'Haha, you are a wag, Sergeant, but hang me if I'm sure you are not right. There may be sweeter things in this world, after all, than oatmeal. You have a sweet daughter, Dunham, for one.' "'The girl is like her mother, Major Duncan, and will pass inspection,' said the Sergeant proudly. "'Neither was brought up on anything better than good American flour. The girl will pass inspection, sir.' "'That would she. I'll answer for it.' "'Well, I may as well come to the point at once, man, and bring up my reserve into the front of the battle. Here is Davy Muir, the quartermaster, disposed to make your daughter his wife, and he has just got me to open the matter to you, being fearful of compromising his own dignity, and I may as well add that half the youngsters in the fort toast her, and talk of her for a morning till night.' "'She is much honoured, sir,' returned the father, stiffly. But I trust the gentlemen will find something more worthy of them to talk about here long. I hope to see her the wife of an honest man before many weeks, sir.' "'Yes, Davy is an honest man, and that is more than can be said for all in the quartermaster's department, I'm thinking, Sergeant,' returned Lundy with a slight smile. "'Well, then may I tell the Cupid-stricken youth that the matter is as good as settled?' I thank your honour, but Mabel is betrothed to another.' "'But devil she is!' "'That will produce a stir in the fort, though I'm not sorry to hear it, either, for to be frank with you, Sergeant, I'm no great admirer of unequal matches. I think with your honour, and have no desire to see my daughter an officer's lady. If she can get as high as her mother was before her, it ought to satisfy any reasonable woman.  No one is better known on this frontier than my honest, brave, true-hearted friend.' "'Ah, all that is true enough. But is he, after all, the sort of person to make a girl of twenty happy?' "'Why not, your honour? The man is at the head of his calling. There is no other guide or scout connected with the army who has half the reputation of Pathfinder, or who deserves to have it half as well.' "'Very true, Sergeant, but is the reputation of a scout exactly the sort of renown to captivate a girl's fancy?' "'Talking of girl's fancies, sir. Is in my humble opinion much like talking of a recruits' judgment. If we were to take the movements of the awkward squad, sir, as a guide, we should never form a decent line in battalion, Major Duncan. But your daughter has nothing awkward about her. For a gentiler girl of her class could not be found in old Albion itself. Is she of your way of thinking in this matter? Though I suppose she must be, as you say she is betrothed. We have not yet conversed on the subject, your honour. But I consider her mind as good as made up from several little circumstances which might be named. "'And what are the circumstances, Sergeant?' asked the Major, who began to take more interest than he had at first felt on the subject. I confess a little curiosity to know something about a woman's mind, being, as you know, a bachelor myself. "'Why, your honour, when I speak of the Pathfinder to the girl, she always looks me full in the face, chimes in with everything I say in his favour, and has a frank open way with her, which says as much as if she half considered him already as a husband. "'Hm.  But I find a man, sir, who looks me full in the face, while he praises an officer. For, begging your honour's pardon, the men will sometimes pass their strictures on their bedders. And when I find a man looking me in the eyes as he praises his captain, I always set it down that the fellow is honest and means what he says. "'Is there not some material difference in the age of the intended bridegroom and that of his pretty bride, Sergeant? You are quite right, sir. Pathfinder is well advanced towards forty. Mabel has every prospect of happiness that a young woman can derive from the certainty of possessing an experienced husband. I was quite forty myself, your honour, when I married her mother. But will your daughter be as likely to admire a green hunting shirt, such as that of worthy guide-wares, with a fox-skinned cap, as the smart uniform of the fifty-fifth?' Perhaps not, sir, and therefore she will have the merit of self-denial, which always makes a young woman wiser and better. And are you not afraid that she may be left a widow while still a young woman? What between wild beasts and wilder savages Pathfinder may be said to carry his life in his hand? Every bullet has its billet, Lundy, for so the Major was fond of being called in his moments of condescension, and when not engaged in military affairs. And no man in the fifty-fifth can call himself beyond or above the chances of sudden death. In that particular Mabel would gain nothing by a change. Besides, sir, if I may speak freely on such a subject, I much doubt if ever Pathfinder dies in battle, or by any of the sudden chances of the wilderness. And why so, Sergeant? asked the Major. He is a soldier, so far as danger is concerned, and one that is much more than usually exposed, and, being free of his person, why should he expect to escape when others do not? I do not believe, Your Honor, that the Pathfinder considers his own chances better than any one's else, but the man will never die by a bullet. I have seen him so often handling his rifle with as much composure as if it were a shepherd's crook in the midst of the heaviest showers of bullets, and under so many extraordinary circumstances, that I do not think Providence means he should ever fall in that manner. And yet, if there be a man in his majesty's dominions who really deserves such a death, it is Pathfinder. Whenever knows, Sergeant? Return, Lundy, with a countenance grave with thought. And the less we say about it, perhaps the better. But will your daughter, Mabel, I think you call her, will Mabel be as willing to accept one who, after all, is a mere hangaron of the army, as to take one from the service itself? There is no hope of promotion for the guide, Sergeant. He is at the head of his corps already, Your Honor. In short, Mabel has made up her mind on this subject, and as your honor has had the condescension to speak to me about Mr. Muir, I trust you will be kind enough to say that the girl is as good as billeted for life. Well, well, this is your own matter, and now, Sergeant Dunham, your honor, said the other, rising and giving the customary salute. You have been told it is my intention to send you down among the Thousand Islands for the next month. All the old subalterns have had their tours of duty in that quarter. All that I like to trust, at least. And it has at length come to your turn. Lieutenant Muir, it is true, claims his right, but being quartermaster, I do not like to break up well-established arrangements. Are the men drafted? Everything is ready, Your Honor. The draft is made, and I understood that the canoe which got in last night brought a message to say that the party already below is looking out for the relief. It did, and you may sail the day after tomorrow, if not tomorrow night. It will be wise, perhaps, to sail in the dark. So Jasper thinks, Major Duncan, and I know no one more to be depended on in such an affair than young Jasper Western.  Will that lad be of your party, Sergeant? Your Honor will remember that the scud never quits port without him. True, but all general rules have their exceptions. Have I not seen a seafaring person about the fort within the last few days? No doubt, Your Honor, it is Master Cap, a brother-in-law of mine, who brought my daughter from below. Why not put him in the scud for this cruise, Sergeant, and leave Jasper behind? Your brother-in-law would like the variety of a freshwater cruise, and you would enjoy more of his company. I intended to ask Your Honor's permission to take him along, but he must go as a volunteer. Jasper is too brave a lad to be turned out of his command without a reason, Major Duncan, and I'm afraid Brother Cap despises freshwater too much to do duty on it. Right, Sergeant, and I leave all this to your own discretion. Odus must retain his command, on second thoughts. You intend that Pathfinder shall also be of the party? If Your Honor approves of it, that will be service for both the guides, the Indian as well as the white man. I think you are right. Well, Sergeant, I wish you luck in the enterprise, and remember the post is to be destroyed and abandoned when your command is withdrawn. It will have done its work by that time, or we shall have failed entirely, and it is too ticklish a position to be maintained unnecessarily. You can retire. Sergeant Dunham gave the customary salute, turned on his heels as if they had been pivots, and had got the door nearly drawn too after him when he was suddenly recalled. I had forgotten, Sergeant. The younger officers have begged for a shooting match, and tomorrow has been named for the day. All competitors will be admitted, and the prizes will be a silver mounted powder horn, a leathered flask ditto, reading from a piece of paper, as I see by the professional jargon of this bill, and a silk callash for a lady. The latter is to enable the victor to show his gallantry by making an offering of it, to her he best loves. All very agreeable, Your Honor, at least to him that succeeds. Is the Pathfinder to be permitted to enter? I do not well see how he can be excluded if he choose to come forward. Laterally, I have observed that he takes no share in these sports, probably from a conviction of his own unequaled skill. That's it, Major Duncan. The honest fellow knows there is not a man on the frontier who can equal him, and he does not wish to spoil the pleasure of others. I think we may trust to his delicacy in anything, sir. Perhaps it may be as well to let him have his own way. In this instance we must, Sergeant, whether he will be as successful in all others remains to be seen. I wish you good evening, Dunham. The Sergeant now withdrew, leaving Duncan of Lundy to his own thoughts, that they were not altogether disagreeable was to be inferred from the smiles which occasionally covered accountants hard and marshal in its usual expression, though there were moments in which all its severe sobriety prevailed. Half an hour might have passed when a tap at the door was answered by a direction to enter. A middle-aged man, in the dress of an officer, but whose uniform wanted the usual smartness of the profession, made his appearance and was saluted as Mr. Muir. I have come at your bidding to know my fortune, said the quartermaster in a strong scotch accent, as soon as he had taken the seat which was proffered to him. To say the truth to you, Major Duncan, this girl is making as much havoc in the garrison as the French did before Ty. I never witnessed so general a rout in so short a time. Surely, Davy, you don't mean to persuade me that your young and unsophisticated heart is in such a flame after one week's ignition. Why, man, this is worse than the affair in Scotland, where it was said the heat within was so intense that it just burnt a hole through your own precious body and left a place for all the lassies to peer in at to see what the combustible material was worth. You'll have your own way, Major Duncan, and your father and mother would have theirs before you, even if the enemy were in the camp. I see nothing so extraordinary in young people following the bent of their inclinations and wishes. But you followed yours so often, Davy, that I should think by this time it had lost the edge of novelty. During that informal affair in Scotland when you were a lad, you've been married four times already. Only three, Major, as I hope to get another wife. I've not yet had my number. No, no, only three. I'm thinking, Davy, you don't include the first affair I mentioned, that in which there was no parson. And why should I, Major? The courts decided it was no marriage. And what more could a man want? The woman took advantage of a slight amorous propensity that may be a weakness in my disposition, perhaps, and inveigled me into a contract which was found to be illegal. If I'd remember right, Mure, there were thought to be two sides to that question in the time of it. It would be but an indifferent question, my dear Major, that hadn't two sides to it, and I've known many that had three. But the poor woman's dead, and there was no issue, so nothing came of it after all. Then I was particularly unfortunate with my second wife. I say second, Major, out of deference to you, and on the mere supposition that the first was a marriage at all. But first or second, I was particularly unfortunate with Jeannie Graham, who died in the first lustrum, leaving neither chick nor chile behind her. I do think if Jeannie had survived I never should have had turned my thoughts towards another wife. But as she did not, you married twice after her death, and are desirous of doing so a third time. The truth can never justly be gained, said Major Duncan, and I am always ready to avow it. I'm thinking, Lundy, you're melancholy this fine evening? No, Mure, not melancholy absolutely, but a little thoughtful, I confess. I was looking back to my own boyish days when I, the Laird son, and you, the Parsons, roamed about our native hills, happy and careless boys, taken little heed to the future, and then have followed some thoughts that may be a little painful concerning that future as it has turned out to be. Surely, Lundy, I do not complain of your portion of it. You have risen to be a Major, and will soon be a Latinic colonel, if letters tell the truth, while I am just one step higher than when your honoured father gave me my first commission, and a poor devil of a quarter-master. And the four wives, three, Lundy, three only that were legal, even under our own liberal and sanctified laws. Well, then, let it be three. You know, Davy, said Major Duncan, insensibly dropping into the pronunciation and dialect of his youth, as is much the practice with educated scotchmen as they warm with the subject that comes near the heart. You know, Davy, that my own choice has long been made, and in how anxious and hope-waryed a matter I've waited for that happy hour, when I can call the woman I've so long loved a wife. And here have you, without fortune, name, birth, or merit. I mean particular merit. Nah, nah, didn't I say that, Lundy? The mirrors of good blood. Well, then, without art but blood, you have wired four times. I tell you it's but thrice, Lundy, you'll weaken old friendship if you call it four. Put it at your own, number, Davy, and it's far more than your share. Our lives have been very different on the score of matrimony, at least. You must allow that, my old friend. In which do you think has been the gainer, Major, speaking as frankly together as we did when lads? Nay, I've nothing to conceal. My days have passed in hope deferred, while yours have passed in—not in hope realized—I give you my honor, Major Duncan, interrupted the quartermaster. Each new experiment I have fought might prove an advantage, but disappointment seems the lot of man. Ah, this is a vain world of ours, Lundy. It must be owned, and in nothing vainer than in matrimony. And yet you are ready to put your neck into the noose for the fifth time? I desire to say it will be but the fourth, Major Duncan, said the quartermaster positively, then instantly changing the expression of his face to one of boyish rapture, he added. But this meable dunnum is a rarer adverse. Our scotch-lasses are fair and pleasant, but it must be owned, these colonials are of surpassing comeliness. You will do well to recollect your commission in blood, David. I believe all four of your wives. I wish, my dear Lundy, that you be more accurate in your arithmetic. Three times one, make three. All three, then, were what might be termed gentlewomen? That's just it, Major. Three were gentlewomen, as you say, and the connections were suitable. I'm the fourth being the daughter of my father's gardener. The connection was unsuitable. But have you no fear that marrying the child of a non-commissioned officer, who is in the same court with yourself, will have the effect to lessen your consequence in the regiment? That's just been my weakness through life, Major Duncan, for I've always married without regard to consequences. Every man has his besetting sin, and matrimony, I fear, is mine. And now that we have discussed what may be called the principles of the connection, I will just ask if you did me the favor to speak to Sergeant on the Triflin Affair. I did, David, and am sorry to say, for your hopes, that I see no great chance of your succeeding. Not succeeding, an officer and a quartermaster in the bargain, and not succeed with a sergeant's daughter? It's just that, David. And why not, Lundy? We have the goodness to answer just that. The girl is betrothed, hand-plighted, word-past, love-pledged. No, hang me if I believe that, either, but she is betrothed. Well, that's an obstacle. It must be a vowed, Major, though it counts for little that the heart is free. Quite true, and I think it probable the heart is free in this case, for the intended husband appears to be the choice of the father rather than of the daughter. And who may it be, Major? Asked the quartermaster, who viewed the whole matter with the philosophy and coolness acquired by use. I do not recollect any plausible suitor that is likely to stand in my way. No, you are the only plausible suitor on the frontier, David. The happy man is Pathfinder. Pathfinder, Major Duncan! No more, nor any less, David Muir. Pathfinder is the man, but it may relieve your jealousy a little to know that, in my judgment at least, it is a match of the fathers rather than of the daughter seeking. I thought as much. Exclaimed the quartermaster, drawing a long breath, like one who felt relieved. It's quite impossible that with my experience in human nature, particularly who woman's nature, David? I will have your joke, Lundy. Let who will suffer? But I did not think it possible I could be deceived as to the young woman's inclinations, which I think I may boldly pronounce to be altogether above the condition of Pathfinder. As for the individual himself, why, time will show. Now tell me frankly, David Muir, said Lundy, stepping short in his walk and looking the other earnestly in the face with a comical expression of surprise, that rendered the veteran's countenance ridiculously earnest. Do you really suppose a girl like the daughter of Sergeant Dunham can take a serious fancy to a man of your years and appearance, an experience I might have? Who to I, Lundy, you didn't know the sacks, and that's the reason you're unmarried in your forty-fifth year. It's a fearful time you've been a bachelor major. But what may be your age, Lieutenant Muir, if I may presume to ask so delicate a question? Forty-seven. I know the diet, Lundy, and if I get me able, there'll be just a wife for every twa-lustrums. But I didn't think Sergeant Dunham would be so humble-minded as to dream of giving that sweet lass a his to one like the Pathfinder. There's no dream about it, David. The man is as serious as a soldier about to be flogged. Well, well, Major, we are old friends. Both ran into the scotch or avoided it as they approached or drew away from their younger days in the dialogue, and ought to know how to take and give a joke off duty. It is possible the worthy man has not understood my hints, or he never would have thought of such a thing. The difference between an officer's consort and a guide's woman is as vast as that between the antiquity of Scotland and the antiquity of America. I'm old blood, too, Lundy. Take my word for it, Davy. Your antiquity would do you no good in this affair, and as for your blood it is not older than your bones. Well, well, man, you know the sergeant's answer, and so you perceive that my influence, on which you counted so much, can do not for you. Let us take a glass together, Davy, for all the quiet and sake, and then you'll be doing well to remember the party that marches the morrow, and to forget Mabel Dunham as fast as ever you can. A Major, I have always found it easier to forget a wife than to forget a sweetheart. When a couple are fairly married, all is settled but the death, as one may say, which must finally part us all, and it seems to me awfully irreverent to disturb the departed, whereas there is no much anxiety and hope and felicity and expectation like with the lassie that it keeps thought alive. That is just my idea of your situation, Davy, for I never supposed you'd expected any more felicity with either of your wives.  I drink to your success, or to your speedy recovery from this attack, Lieutenant, and I admonish you to be more cautious in future, as some of these violent cases may yet carry you off. Many thanks, dear Major, on a speedy termination to an old courtship, of which I know something. This is real Mountain Dew, Lundy, and it warms the heart like a gleam of Bunny Scotland. As for the men you've just mentioned, they could have had but one wife at peace, for where there are several that deeds of the women themselves may carry them different ways. I think a reasonable husband ought to be satisfied with passing his allotted time with any particular wife in this world, and not to go about moping for things unattainable. I'm infinitely obliged to you, Major Duncan, for this and all your other acts of friendship, and if you could but add another, I should think you had not altogether forgotten the playfellow of your boyhood. Well, Davy, if the request be reasonable, and such as a superior ought to grant, out with it, man, if you could only contrive a little service for me, down among the thousand aisles, for a fortnight or so, I think this matter might be settled to the satisfaction of all parties. Thanks for a member, Lundy. The lassie is the only marriageable white female on this frontier. There is always duty for one in your line at a post, however small, but this below can be done by the sergeant as well as by the quartermaster general, and better too. But not better than by a regimental officer. There is great waste in common among the orderlies. I'll think of it, Muir, said the Major, laughing, and you shall have my answer in the morning. Here will be a fine occasion, man, the morrow, to show yourself off before the lady. You are our expert with a rifle, and prizes are to be won.  I'm thinking most of the young men will try their hands in this sport, Major. That they will, and some of the old ones too, if you appear. To keep you in countenance, I'll try a shot or two myself, David, and you know I have some name that way. It might indeed do good. The female heart, Major Duncan, is susceptible in many different modes, and sometimes in a way that the rules of philosophy might reject. Some require a suitor to sit down before them as it might be in a regular siege, and only capitulate when the place can hold out no longer. Others, again, like to be carried by storm, while there are hussies who can only be caught by leading them into an ambush. The first is the most creditable and officer-like process, perhaps, but I must say, I think the last, the most pleasing. An opinion formed from experience out of all question. And what of the storming parties? They may do for a younger man, Lundy. Return the quartermaster, rising and winking, a liberty that he often took with the commanding officer on the score of a long intimacy. Every period of life has its necessities, and at forty-seven it's just as well detrust a little to the head. I wish you a very good, even, Major Duncan, and freedom from gout, with a sweet and refreshing sleep. The same to yourself, Mr. Muir, with many thanks. After the passage of arms for the moral. The quartermaster withdrew, leaving Lundy and his library, to reflect on what it just passed. Hughes had so accustomed Major Duncan to Lieutenant Muir and all his traits and humours, that the conduct of the latter did not strike the former with the same force as it will probably the reader. In truth, while all men act under one common law that is termed nature, the varieties in their dispositions, modes of judging, feelings, and selfishness, are infinite. CHAPTER XI. Tell the hawk to sit that is unmanned, or make the hound untaught to draw the deer, or bring the free against his will in band, or move the sad a pleasant tale to hear. Your time is lost, and you know with the near. So love ne'er learns of force the heart to knit, she serves but those that feel sweet fancies fit. MIRROR FOR MAGISTRITS. It is not often that hope is rewarded by fruition so completely as the wishes of the young men of the garrison were met by the state of the weather on the succeeding day. The heats of summer were little felt at Oswego, at the period of which we are riding, for the shade of the forest added to the refreshing breezes from the lake so far reduced the influence of the sun as to render the nights always cool and the days seldom oppressive. It was now September, a month in which the strong gales of the coast often appeared to force themselves across the country, as far as the Great Lakes, where the inland sailor sometimes feels that genial influence which characterizes the winds of the ocean invigorating its frame, cheering his spirits, and arousing his moral force. Such a day was that on which the garrison of Oswego assembled to witness what its commander had jocularly called a passage of arms. Lundy was a scholar in military matters at least, and it was one of his sources of honest pride to direct the reading and thoughts of the young men under his orders to the more intellectual parts of their profession. For one in his situation his library was both good and extensive, and its books were freely lent to all who desired to use them. One of the other whims that had found their way into the garrison through these means was a relish for the sort of amusement in which it was now about to indulge, and around which some chronicles of the days of chivalry had induced them to throw a parade and romance not unsuited to the characters and habits of soldiers, or to the insulated and wild post occupied by this particular garrison. While so earnestly bent on pleasure, however, they on whom that duty devolved did not deflect the safety of the garrison. One standing on the ramparts of the fort, and gazing on the waste of glittering water that bounded the view all along the northern horizon, and on the slumbering and seemingly boundless forest which filled the other half of the panorama, would have fancied the spot the very abode of peacefulness and security. But Duncan of Lundy too well knew that the woods might, at any moment, give up their hundreds bent on the destruction of the fort and all it contained, and that even the treacherous lake offered a highway of easy approach by which is more civilized and scarcely less wily foes, the French, could come upon him at an unguarded moment. Parties were sent out under old and vigilant officers, men who cared little for the sports of the day, to scour the forest, and one entire company held the fort under arms, with orders to maintain a vigilance as strict as if an enemy of superior force was known to be near. With these precautions the remainder of the officers and men abandoned themselves without apprehension to the business of the morning. The spot selected for the sports was a sort of esplanade, a little west of the fort, and on the immediate bank of the lake. It had been cleared of its trees and stumps that it might answer the purpose of a parade-ground, as it possessed the advantages of having its rear protected by the water and one of its flanks by the works. Men drilling on it could be attacked consequently on two sides only, and as the cleared space beyond it, in the direction of the west and south, was large, any assailants would be compelled to quit the cover of the woods before they could make an approach sufficiently near to render them dangerous. Although the regular arms of the regiment were muskets, some fifty rifles were produced on the press and occasion. Every officer had one as a part of his private provision for amusement. Many belonged to the scouts and friendly Indians, of whom more or less were always hanging about the fort. And there was a public provision of them for the use of those who followed the game with the express object of obtaining supplies. Among those who carried the weapon were some five or six, who had the reputation for knowing how to use it particularly well, so well, indeed, as to have given them a celebrity on the frontier. Twice that number who were believed to be much better than common, and many who would have been thought expert in almost any situation but the precise one in which they now happened to be placed. The distance was a hundred yards, and the weapon was to be used without arrest. The target? A board, with the customary circular lines in white paint, having the bullseye in the center. The first trials and skill commenced with challenges among the more ignoble of the competitors to display their steadiness and dexterity in idle competition. None but the common men engaged in this strife, which had little to interest the spectators, among whom no officer had yet appeared. Most of the soldiers were scotch, the regiment having been raised at Sterling, and its vicinity, not many years before, though, as in the case of Sergeant Dunham, many Americans had joined it since its arrival in the colonies. As a matter of course, the provincials were generally the most expert marksmen, and after a desultory trial of half an hour it was necessarily conceited that a youth who had been born in the colony of New York and who, coming of Dutch extraction, was the most expert of all who had yet tried their skill. It was just as this opinion prevailed that the oldest captain, accompanied by most of the gentlemen and ladies of the Fort, appeared on the parade. A train of some twenty females of humbler condition followed, among whom was seen the well-turned form, intelligent, blooming, animated countenance, and neat, becoming attire of Mabel Dunham. Of females who were officially recognized as belonging to the class of ladies, there were but three in the Fort, all of whom were officer's wives, Mabel being strictly, as has been stated by the quartermaster, the only real candidate for matrimony among her sex. Some little preparation had been made for the proper reception of the females, who were placed on a low staging of planks near the immediate bank of the lake. In this vicinity the prizes were suspended from a post. Great care was taken to reserve the front seat of the stage for the three ladies and their children, while Mabel and those who belonged to the non-commissioned officers of the regiment occupied the second. The wives and daughters of the privates were huddled together in the rear, some standing and some sitting, as they could find room. Mabel, who had already been admitted to the society of the officer's wives, on the footing of a humble companion, was a good deal noticed by the ladies in front, who had a proper appreciation of modest self-respect and gentle refinement, though they were all fully aware of the value of rank, more particularly in a garrison. As soon as this important portion of the spectators had got into their places, Lundy gave orders for the trial of skill to proceed in the manner that had been prescribed in his previous orders. Some eight or ten of the best marksmen of the garrison now took possession of the stand, and began to fire in succession. Among them were officers and men indiscriminately placed, nor were the casual visitors in the fort excluded from the competition. As might have been expected of men whose amusements and comfortable subsistence equally depended on skill in the use of their weapons, it was soon found that they were all sufficiently expert to hit the bullseye, or the white spot in the center of the target. Others who succeeded them, it is true, were less sure their bullets striking in the different circles that surrounded the center of the target without touching it. According to the rules of the day, none could proceed to the second trial who had failed in the first, and the adjutant of the place, who acted as master of the ceremonies, or marshal of the day, called upon the successful adventurers by name to get ready for the next effort, while he gave notice that those who failed to present themselves for the shot at the bullseye would necessarily be excluded from all the higher trials. Just at this moment Lundy, the quartermaster, and Jasper O'Deuse, appeared in the group at the stand, while the Pathfinder walked leisurely on the ground without his beloved rifle. For him a measure so unusual has to be understood by all present as a proof that he did not consider himself a competitor for the honors of the day. All made way for Major Duncan, who, as he approached the stand in a good-humored way, took his station, leveled his rifle carelessly, and fired. The bullet missed the required mark by several inches. "'Major Duncan is excluded from the other trials,' proclaimed the adjutant, in a voice so strong and confident that all the elder officers and the sergeants well understood that this failure was preconcerted, while all the younger gentlemen and the privates felt new encouragement to proceed on account of the evident impartiality with which the laws of the sports were administered. "'Now, Mr. O'Deuse, comes your turn,' said Muir. "'And if you do not meet the Major, I shall say that your hand is better skilled with the oar than with the rifle.' Jasper's handsome face flushed. He stepped upon the stand, cast a hasty glance at Mabel, whose pretty form he ascertained was bending eagerly forward as if to note the result. Dropped the barrel of his rifle with but little apparent care into the palm of his left hand. He raised the muzzle for a single instant with exceeding steadiness and fired. The bullet passed directly through the centre of the bull's eye, much the best shot of the morning, since the others had merely touched the paint. "'Well performed, Mr. Jasper,' said Muir, as soon as the result was declared, in a shot that might have done credit to an older head in a more experienced eye. I'm thinking, notwithstanding, there was some of the youngsters luck in it, for you were no particular in the aim you took. You may be quick, Odus, in the movement, but not your philosophic nor scientific in your management of the weapon. Now, Sergeant Dunham, I'll thank you to request the ladies to give a closer attention than common, for I'm about to make that use of the rifle which may be called the intellectual. Jasper would have killed, I allow, but then there would not have been half the satisfaction in receiving such a shot as in receiving one that is discharged scientifically. All this time the quartermaster was preparing himself for the scientific trial, but he delayed his aim until he saw that the eye of Mabel, in common with those of her companions, were fastened on him in curiosity. As the others left him room, out of respect to his rank, no one stood near the competitor but his commanding officer, to whom he now sat in his familiar manner, you see, Lunde, that something is to be gained by exciting a female's curiosity. It's an active sentiment is curiosity, and properly improved may lead to gentler innovations in the end. Very true, Davy, but you keep us all waiting while you make your preparations, and here is Pathfinder drawing near to catch a lesson from your greater experience. Well, Pathfinder, and so you have come to get an idea, too, concerning the philosophy of shooting? I do not wish to hide my light under a bushel, and you're welcome to all you learn. Do you not mean to try a shock yourself, man? Why should I, quartermaster? Why should I? I want none of the prizes, and as for honor, I have had enough of that, if it's any honor to shoot better than yourself. I'm not a woman to wear a collage. Quite true, but you might find a woman that is precious in your eyes to wear it for you, as, come, Davy, interrupted the major, your shot or a retreat, the adjutant is getting impatient. The quartermaster's department and the adjutant's department are seldom compliable, Lunde, but I'm ready. Stand a little aside, Pathfinder, and give the ladies an opportunity. Criedmure now took his attitude, with a good deal of studied elegance, raised his rifle slowly, lowered it, raised it again, repeated the maneuvers, and fired. Missed the target altogether, shouted the man whose duty it was to mark the bullets, and who had little relish for the quartermaster's tedious science. Missed the target. It cannot be, criedmure, his face flushing equally with indignation and shame. It cannot be, adjutant, for I never did so awkward a thing in my life. I appealed to the ladies for a juster judgment.  Your preparations alarmed them. I would not believe such calamity at the ladies, nor such a reproach from my own skill. Returned the quartermaster, growing more and more scotch as he warmed with his feelings. It's a conspiracy to rob a meritorious man of his doos.  No, no, Major, Pathfinder at length observed, the quartermaster is a good shot for a slow one and a measured distance, though nothing extraordinary for real service. He has covered Jasper's bullet as will be seen, if anyone will take the trouble to examine the target. The respect for Pathfinder's skill and for his quickness and accuracy of sight was so profound and general that the instant he made this declaration the spectators began to distrust their own opinions and a dozen rushed to the target in order to ascertain the fact. There, sure enough, it was found that the quartermaster's bullet had gone through the hole made by Jasper's, and that, too, so accurately as to require a minute examination to be certain of the circumstance, which, however, was soon clearly established by discovering one bullet over the other in the stump against which the target was placed. I told you, ladies, you were about to witness the influence of science on gunnery, said the quartermaster, advancing towards the staging occupied by the females. Major Duncan derides the idea of mathematics entering into target shooting, but I tell him philosophy colors and enlarges and improves and dilates and explains everything that belongs to human life, whether it be a shooting match or a sermon. In a word, philosophy is philosophy, and that is saying all that the subject requires. I trust you exclude love from the catalogue, observed the wife of a captain who knew the history of the quartermaster's marriages, and knew had a woman's malice against the monopolizer of her sex. It seems that philosophy has little in common with love. You wouldn't say that, madam, if your heart had experienced many trials. It's the man or the woman that has had many occasions to improve the affections that can best speak of such matters. And believe me, of all love, philosophical is the most lasting, as it is the most rational. You would then recommend experience as an improvement on the passion? Your quick mind has conceived the idea at a glance. The happiest marriages are those in which youth and beauty and confidence on one side rely on the sagacity, moderation, and prudence of years. Middle-age, I mean, madam, for I know deny that there is such a thing as husbands being too old for a wife. Here is Sergeant Dunham's charming daughter now. To approve of such sentiments, I'm certain. Her character for discretion, being already well-established in the garrison, short has been our residence among us. Sergeant Dunham's daughter is scarcely affitting into locator in a discourse between you and me, Lieutenant Muir. Rejoin the captain's lady with careful respect for her own dignity. Sergeant Yonder is the pathfinder about to take his chance, by way of changing the subject. I protest, Major Duncan, I protest, cried Muir, hurrying back towards the stand, with both arms elevated by means of enforcing his words. I protest in the strongest terms, gentlemen, against pathfinders being admitted into these sports with kill-deer, which is a peace to say nothing of long habit that is altogether out of proportion for a trial of skill against government rifles. Kill-deer is taking its rest, quartermaster, returned pathfinder calmly, and no one here thinks of disturbing it. I did not think myself of pulling a trigger today, but Sergeant Dunham has been persuading me that I shall not do proper honor to his handsome daughter, who came in under my care, if I am backward on such an occasion. I'm using Jasper's rifle, quartermaster, as you may see, and that is no better than your own. Lieutenant Muir was now obliged to acquiesce, and every eye turned towards the pathfinder as he took the required station. The air and attitude of this celebrated guide and hunter were extremely fine, and as he raised his tall form and leveled the peace, showing perfect self-command, and a thorough knowledge of the power of the human frame as well as the weapon. Pathfinder was not what is usually termed a handsome man, so his appearance excited so much confidence and commanded respect. Tall, and even muscular, his frame might have been esteemed nearly perfect were it not for the total absence of everything like flesh. Whipcord was scarcely more rigid than his arms and legs, or, at need, more pliable, but the outlines of his person were rather too angular for the proportion that the eye most approves. Still, his motions, being natural, were graceful, and being calm and regulated, they gave him an air and dignity that associated well with the idea, that was so prevalent, of his services and peculiar merits. His honest open features were burnt to a bright red that comported well with the notion of exposure and hardships, while his sinewy hands denoted force, and a species of use removed from the stiffening and deforming effects of labour. Although no one perceived any of those gentler or more insinuating qualities which are apt to win upon a woman's affections, as he raised his rifle, not a female eye was fastened on him without a silent approbation of the freedom of his movements and the manliness of his air. Thought was scarcely quicker than his aim, and as the smoke floated above his head, the butt end of the rifle was seen on the ground, the hand of the Pathfinder was leaning on the barrel, and his honest countenance was illuminated by his usual silent, hearty laugh. If one dared to hint at such a thing, cried Major Duncan, I should say that the Pathfinder had also missed the target. No, no, Major. Returned the guide confidently. That would be a risky declaration. I didn't load the piece and can't say what was in it, but if it was lead, you will find the bullet driving down those of the quartermaster and Jasper, else is not my name Pathfinder. A shout from the target announced the truth of this assertion. That's not all, that's not all, boys, called out the guide, who was now slowly advancing towards the stage occupied by the females. If you find the target touched at all, I'll own to a miss. The quartermaster cut the wood, but you'll find no wood cut by that last messenger. Very true, Pathfinder, very true. Answered Muir, who was lingering near Mabel, though ashamed to address her particularly in the presence of the officer's wives. The quartermaster did cut the wood, and by that means he opened a passage for your bullet, which went through the hole he had made. Well, quartermaster, there goes the nail, and we'll see who can drive it closer, you or I, for though I did not think of showing what a rifle can do to-day, now my hand is in, I'll turn my back to no men that carries King George's commission. Chingachgook is out lying, or he might force me into some of the niceties of the art. But as for you, quartermaster, if the nail don't stop you, the potato will. You're overbusful this morning, Pathfinder, but you'll find you have no green boy fresh from the settlements in the towns to deal with. I will assure you. I know that well, quartermaster. I know that well, and shall not deny your experience. You lived many years on the frontiers, and I've heard of you in the colonies and among the Indians, too, quite a human life ago. Na, na! Interrupted Muir in his broadest scotch. This is injustice, man. I've no lives so very long, neither. I'll do you justice, lieutenant, even if you get the best in the potato trial. I say you've passed a good human life, for a soldier in places where the rifle is daily used, and I know you are a creditable and ingenious marksman, but then you are not a true rifle shooter. As for boasting, I hope I'm not a vain talker about my own exploits, but a man's gifts are his gifts, and it's flying in the face of Providence to deny them. The sergeant's daughter here shall judge between us, if you have the stomach to submit to so pretty a judge. The pathfinder had named Mabel as the arbiter because he admired her, and because in his eyes rank had little or no value, but Lieutenant Muir shrank at such a reference in the presence of the wives of the officers. He would gladly keep himself constantly before the eyes and the imagination of the object of his wishes, but it was still too much under the influence of old prejudices, and perhaps too wary to appear openly as her suitor, unless he saw something very like a certainty of success. On the discretion of Major Duncan he had a full reliance, and he apprehended no betrayal from that quarter, but he was quite aware, should it ever get abroad that he had been refused by the child of a non-commissioned officer, he would find great difficulty in making his approaches to any other woman of a condition to which he might reasonably aspire. Notwithstanding these doubts and misgivings, Mabel looked so priddlely, blushed so charmingly, smiled so sweetly, and altogether presented so winning a picture of youth, spirit, modesty, and beauty that he founded exceedingly tempting to be kept so prominently before her imagination, and to be able to address her freely. You shall have it your own way, Pathfinder, he answered, as soon as his doubts had settled down into determination. Let the sergeant's daughter, his charming daughter, I should have termed her, be the umpire then, and to her we will both dedicate the prize, that one or the other must certainly win. Pathfinder must be humored, ladies, as you perceive else, no doubt. We should have had the honour to submit ourselves to one of your charming society. A call for the competitors now drew the quartermaster and his adversary away, and in a few moments the second trial of skill commenced. A common wrought nail was driven lightly into the target, its head having been first touched with paint, and the marksman was required to hit it or he lost his chances in the succeeding trials. No one was permitted to enter on this occasion who had already failed in the assay against the bullseye. There might have been half a dozen aspirants for the honours of this trial, one or two who had barely succeeded in touching the spot of paint in the previous strife, preferring to rest the reputations there, feeling certain that they could not succeed in the greater effort that was now exacted of them. The first three adventurers failed, all coming very near the mark, but neither touching it. The fourth person who presented himself was the quartermaster, who, after going through his usual attitudes, so far succeeded as to carry away a small portion of the head of the nail, planting his bullet by the side of its point. This was not considered an extraordinary shot, though it brought the adventurer within the category. "'You've saved your baking, quartermaster,' as they say in the settlements of their creatures,' cried Pathfinder, laughing, but it would take a long time to build a house with a hammer no better than yours. Jasper here will show you how a nail is to be started, or the lad has lost some of his steadiness of hand and certainty of eye. "'You would have done better yourself, lieutenant, had you not been so much bent on soldierizing your figure. Shooting is a natural gift, and is to be exercised in a natural way.' "'We shall see, Pathfinder. I call that a pretty attempt at a nail. I doubt that the Fifty-Fifth has another hammer, as you call it, that can do just the same thing over again.' Jasper is not in the Fifty-Fifth, but there goes his wrap. As the Pathfinder spoke, the bullet of Odus hit the nail square and drove it into the target, within an inch of the head. "'Be all ready to clench it, boys,' cried out Pathfinder, stepping into his friend's tracks the instant they were vacant. "'Never mind a new nail. I can see that, though the paint is gone, and what I can see I can hit at a hundred yards, though it were only a mosquito's eye. Be ready to clench.' The rifle cracked. The bullet sped its way, and the head of the nail was buried in the wood, covered by the piece of flattened lead.  "'You improve daily. A few more tramps on land in my company, and the best marksmen on the frontiers will have occasion to look keenly when he takes his stand against you. Quartermaster is respectable, but he will never get any farther, whereas you, Jasper, have the gift, and may one day defy any who pulled trigger.' "'Hoot, hoot!' exclaimed Muir. "'Do you call hitting the head of the nail respectable only, when it's the perfection of the art? Anyone the least refined and elevated in sentiment knows that the delicate touches denote the master, whereas your sledgehammer blows come from the rude and uninstructed. If a miss is as good as a mile, a hit ought to be better, Pathfinder, whether it wound or kill. "'The surest way of settling this rival we will be to make another trial,' observed Lundy, "'and that will be of the potato. Nor scotch, Mr. Muir, and might fare better were it a cake or a thistle, but frontier law has declared for the American fruit, and the potato it shall be.' As Major Duncan manifested some impatience of manner, Muir had too much tact to delay the sports any longer with his discursive remarks, but judiciously prepared himself for the next appeal. To say the truth, the quartermaster had little or no faith in his own success in the trial of skill that was to follow, nor would he have been so free in presenting himself as a competitor at all had he anticipated it would have been made. But Major Duncan, who was somewhat of a humorist in his own quiet scotch way, had secretly ordered it to be introduced expressly to mortify him, for, allerred himself, Lundy did not relish the notion that one who might claim to be a gentleman should bring a discredit on his cast by forming an unequal alliance. As soon as everything was prepared, Muir was summoned to the stand, and the potato was held in readiness to be thrown. As the sort of feat we are about to offer to the reader, however, may be new to him, a word in explanation will render the matter more clear. A potato of large size was selected, and given to one who stood at the distance of twenty yards from the stand. At the word heave, which was given by the marksman, the vegetable was thrown with a gentle toss into the air, and it was the business of the adventurer to cause a ball to pass through it before it touched the ground. The quartermaster, in a hundred experiments, had once succeeded in accomplishing this difficult feat, but he now was saved to perform it again with a sort of blind hope that was fated to be disappointed. The potato was thrown in the usual manner, the rifle was discharged, but the flying target was untouched. To the right about and fall out, quartermaster, said Lundy, smiling at the success of the artifice, the honor of the silken collage will lie between Jasper O'Doose and Pathfinder. And how is the trial to end, Major? Inquired the latter. Are we to have two potato trial, or is it to be settled by center and skin? By his center and skin, if there is any perceptible difference, otherwise the double shot must follow. This is an awful moment to meet, Pathfinder. Observed Jasper as he moved towards the stand, his face actually losing its color in intensity of feeling. Pathfinder gazed earnestly at the young man, and then, begging Major Duncan to have patience for a moment, he led his friend out of the hearing of all near him before he spoke. You seem to take this matter to heart, Jasper. The hunter remarked, keeping his eyes fastened on those of the youth. I must own, Pathfinder, that my feelings were never before so much bound up in success. And do you so much crave to outdo me, an old and tried friend? And that, as it might be in my own way? Shooting is my gift, boy, and no common hand can equal mine. I know it. I know it, Pathfinder, but yet— But what, Jasper boy, speak freely, you talk to a friend! The young man compressed his lips, dashed a hand across his eye, and flushed and paled alternately, like a girl confessing her love. Then, squeezing the other's hand, he said calmly, like one whose manhood has overcome all other sensations, I would lose an armed Pathfinder to be able to make an offering of that collage to Mabel Dunham. The hunter dropped his eyes to the ground, and as he walked slowly back towards the stand, he seemed to ponder deeply on what he had just heard. You never could succeed in the double trial, Jasper. He suddenly remarked, Of that I am certain, and it troubles me.  He pines for things which are not of his gift, and treats the bounties of Providence lightly. No matter. No matter. Make your station, Jasper, for the Major is waiting, and harken, lad! I must touch the skin, for I could not show my face in the garrison with less than that. I suppose I must submit to my fate. Returned Jasper, flushing and losing his color as before. But I will make the effort if I die. What a thing is mortal man! Repeated Pathfinder, falling back to allow his friend room to take his aim. He overlooks his own gifts, and craves those of another. The potato was thrown, Jasper fired, and the shout that followed preceded the announcement of the fact that he had driven his bullet through its center, or so nearly so as to merit that award. Here is a competitor worthy of you, Pathfinder! cried Major Duncan with delight, as the former took his station. And we may look to some fine shooting in the double trial. What a thing is mortal man! Repeated the hunter, scarcely seeming to notice what was passing around him. So much were his thoughts absorbed in his own reflections. Toss! The potato was tossed, the rifle cracked. It was remarked just as the little black ball seemed stationary in the air, for the marksman evidently took unusual heed to his aim, and then a look of disappointment and wonder succeeded among those who had caught the falling target. Two holes in one, called out the Major. The skin! The skin! was the answer. Only the skin! How is that, Pathfinder? Is Jasper odious to carry off the honors of the day? The clash is his. Return the other, shaking his head, and walking quietly away from the stand.  Never satisfied with his own gifts, but forever craving that which Providence denies. As Pathfinder had not buried his bullet in the potato, but had cut through the skin, the prize was immediately adjudged to Jasper. The clash was in the hands of the latter when the quartermaster approached, and with a polite air of cordiality he wished his successful rival, joy of his victory. But now you've got the clash lad, it's of no use to you! he added. It will never make a sale, nor even an ensign. I'm thinking, odus, you'll not be sorry to see its value in good scillor of the king. Money cannot buy it, lieutenant.  I would rather have won this clash than have obtained fifty new suits of sales for the scud. Hoot, hoot, lad! You're going mad like all the rest of them. I'd even ventured off a half a guinea for the trifle, rather than it should lie kicking about in the cabin of your cutter, and in the end become an ornament for the head of a squaw. Although Jasper did not know that the weary quartermaster had not offered half the actual cost of the prize, he heard the proposition with indifference. Shaking his head in the negative, he advanced towards the stage, where his approach excited a little commotion, the officer's ladies one and all having determined to accept the present, should the gallantry of the young sailor induce him to offer it. But Jasper's diffidence, no less than admiration for another, would have prevented him from aspiring to the honor of complimenting any whom he thought so much his superiors. Mabel said he, This prize is for you, unless— Unless what, Jasper? Answered the girl, losing her own bashfulness in the natural and generous wish to relieve his embarrassment, though both reddened in a way to betray strong feeling. Unless you think too indifferently of it, because it is offered by one who may have no right to believe his gift will be accepted. I do accept it, Jasper, and it shall be a sign of the danger I have passed in your company, and of the gratitude I feel for your care of me, your care, and that of the Pathfinder. Never mind me, never mind me, exclaimed the latter. This is Jasper's luck, and Jasper's gift. Give him full credit for both. My turn may come another day, mine and the quarter-masters, who seems to grudge the boy that collashed, though what he can want of it I cannot understand, for he has no wife. And has Jasper Oduce a wife? Or have you a wife yourself, Pathfinder? I may want it to help to get a wife, or as a memorial that I have had a wife, or as proof how much I admire the sex, or because it is a female garment, or for some other equally respectable motive. It's not the unreflecting that are the most prized by the thoughtful, and there is no sure of sign that a man made a good husband to his first consort, that may tell you all, that to see him speedily looking round for a competent successor. The affections are good gifts from Providence, and they that have loved one faithfully proved how much of this bounty has been lavished upon them by loving another as soon as possible. It may be so, it may be so, I am no practitioner in such things, and cannot gain say it, but Mabel here, the sergeant's daughter, will give you full credit for the words. Come Jasper, although our hands are out, let us see what the other lads can do with the rifle. Pathfinder and his companions retired, for the sports were about to proceed. The ladies, however, were not so much engrossed with rifle-shooting as to neglect the collage. It passed from hand to hand, the silk was felt, the fashion criticised, and the work examined, and divers opinions were privately ventured concerning the fitness of so handsome a thing, passing into the possession of a non-commissioned officer's child. Perhaps you will be disposed to sell that collage, Mabel, when it has been a short time in your possession, inquired the captain's lady, where it I should think you never can. I may not wear it, madam, returned our heroine modestly, but I should not like to part with it, either. I dare say Sergeant Dunham keeps you above the necessity of selling your clothes, child, but at the same time it is money thrown away to keep an article of dress you can never wear. I should be unwilling to part with the gift of a friend. But the young man himself will think all the better of you for your prudence after the triumph of the day is forgotten. It is a pretty and a becoming collage, and ought not to be thrown away. I have no intention to throw it away, ma'am, and if you please would rather keep it. As you will, child, girls of your age often overlook the real advantages. Remember, however, if you do determine to dispose of the thing that it is bespoke, and that I will not take it if you ever even put it on your own head. Yes, ma'am, said Mabel, in the meekest voice imaginable, though her eyes look like diamonds, and her cheeks redden to the tints of two roses, as she placed the forbidden garment over her well-turned shoulders, where she kept it a minute, as if to try its fitness, and then quietly removed it again. The remainder of the sports offered nothing of interest. The shooting was reasonably good, but the trials were all of a scale lower than those related, and the competitors were soon left to themselves. The ladies and most of the officers withdrew, and the remainder of the females soon followed their example. Mabel was returning along the low flat rocks that lined the shore of the lake, dangling her pretty collage from a prettier finger when Pathfinder met her. He carried the rifle which he had used that day, but his manner had less of the frank ease of the hunter about it than usual, while his eye seemed roving and uneasy. After a few unmeaning words concerning the noble sheet of water before them, he turned towards his companion with strong interest in his countenance and said, Jasper earned that collage for you, Mabel, without much trial of his gifts. It was fairly done, Pathfinder. No doubt, no doubt, the bullet passed neatly through the potato, and no man could have done more, though others might have done as much. But no one did as much, exclaimed Mabel with an animation that she instantly regretted, for she saw by the pained look of the guide that he was mortified equally by the remark, and by the feeling with which it was uttered. It is true, it is true, Mabel, no one did as much then, but yet there is no reason I should deny my gifts which come from Providence. Yes, yes, no one did as much there, but you shall know what can be done here. Do you observe the gulls that are flying over our heads? Certainly, Pathfinder, there are too many to escape notice. Here, where they cross each other and sailing about, he added, cocking and raising his rifle. The two, the two, now look! The piece was presented quick as thought, as two of the birds came in a line, though distant from each other many yards. The report followed, and the bullet passed through the bodies of both victims.  Every shade of dissatisfaction and mortified pride having left is on his face. That is something, Mabel, that is something, although I have no collage to give you. But ask Jasper himself, I'll leave it all to Jasper, for a truer tongue and heart are not in America. Then it was not Jasper's fault that he gained the prize? Not it. He did his best, and he did well. For one that has water gifts, rather than land gifts, Jasper is uncommonly expert, and a better backer no one need wish, a shore or a float. But it was my fault, Mabel, that he got the collage, though it makes no difference. It makes no difference, for the thing has gone to the right person. Believe I understand you, Pathfinder, said Mabel, blushing in spite of herself, and I look upon the collage as the joint gift of yourself and Jasper. That would not be doing justice to the lad, neither. He won the garment and had a right to give it away. The most you may think, Mabel, is to believe that, had I want it, it would have gone to the same person. I will remember that, Pathfinder, and take care that others know your skill, as has been proved upon the poor gulls in my presence. Lord bless you, Mabel, there is no more need of your talking in favor of my shooting on this frontier than of your talking about the water in the lake or the sun in the heavens. Everybody knows what I can do in that way, and your words would be thrown away as much as French would be thrown away on an American bear. Then you think that Jasper knew you were giving him this advantage, of which he had so unhandsomely availed himself, said Mabel, the color which had imparted so much luster to her eyes gradually leaving her face, which became grave and thoughtful. I do not say that, but very far from it. We all forget things that we have known when eager after our wishes. Jasper is satisfied that I can pass one bullet through two potatoes, as I sent my bullet through the gulls, and he knows no other man on the frontier can do the same thing. But with the collage before his eyes, and the hope of giving it to you, the lad was inclined to think better of himself just at that moment, perhaps, than he ought. No. No. There's nothing mean or distrustful about Jasper, oh deuce, though it is a gift natural to all young men to wish to appear well in the eyes of handsome young women. I'll try to forget all but the kindness you've both shown to a poor motherless girl," said Mabel, struggling to keep down emotions she scarcely knew how to account for herself. Believe me, Pathfinder, I can never forget all you have already done for me, you and Jasper, and this new proof of your regard is not thrown away. Here, here is a brooch that is of silver, and I offer it as a token that I owe you life or liberty. What shall I do with this, Mabel? asked the bewildered hunter, holding the simple trinket in his hand. I have neither buckle nor button about me, for I wear nothing but leather and strings, and them of good dearskins. It's pretty to the eye, but it is prettier far on the spot it came from than it can be about me. Nay, put it on your hunting shirt, it will become it well. Remember, Pathfinder, that it is a token of friendship between us, and a sign that I can never forget you or your services. Mabel then smiled in adieu, and bounding up the bank she was soon lost to view behind the mound of the fort. CHAPTER 12 Low, dusky masses steal in dubious sight along the Ligard wall and bristling bank of the armed river, while with straggling light the stars peep through the vapor dim and dank. Attributed Byron, a few hours later Mabel Dunham was on the bastion that overlooked the river and the lake, seemingly in deep thought. The evening was calm and soft, and the question had arisen whether the party for the Thousand Islands would be able to get out that night or not, on account of the total absence of wind. The stores, arms, and ammunition were already shipped, and even Mabel's effects were on board, but the small draft of men that was to go was still ashore, there being no apparent prospect of the cutters getting under way. Jasper had warped the scud out of the cove, and so far up the stream as to enable him to pass through the outlet of the river whenever he chose, but there he still lay, riding at single anchor. The draft of men were lounging about the shore of the cove, undecided whether or not to pull off. The sports of the morning had left a quiet in the garrison which was in harmony with the whole of the beautiful scene, and Mabel felt its influence on her feelings, though probably too little accustomed to speculate on such sensations to be aware of the cause. Everything near appeared lovely and soothing, while the solemn grandeur of the silent forest and placid expanse of the lake lent a sublimity that other scenes might have wanted. For the first time Mabel felt the hold that the towns and civilization had gained on her habits sensibly weakened, and the warm-hearted girl began to think that a life past amid objects such as those around her might be happy. How far the experience of the last days came in aid of the calm and holy eventide, and contributed towards producing that young conviction may be suspected rather than affirmed in this early portion of our legend. A charming sunset, Mabel, said the hearty voice of her uncle, so close to the ear of our heroine as to cause her to start. A charming sunset girl, for a fresh water concern, though we should think but little of it at sea. It is not nature the same on shore or at sea, on a lake like this or on the ocean. Does not the sun shine on all alike, dear uncle? And can we not feel gratitude for the blessings of Providence, as strongly on this remote frontier as in our own Manhattan? The girl has fallen in with some of her mother's books. Is not nature the same indeed? Now Mabel, do you imagine that the nature of a soldier is the same as that of a seafaring man? You have relations in both callings and ought to be able to answer. But uncle, I mean human nature. So do I, girl, the human nature of a seaman, and the human nature of one of those fellows of the Fifty-Fifth, not even accepting your own father.  There we should have sprung out our broadside, sported with round shot, had an object half a mile off at the very nearest, and the potatoes, if there happened to be any on board, as very likely would not have been the case, would have been left in the cook's coppers. It may be an honourable calling, that of a soldier, Mabel, but an experienced hand sees many follies and weaknesses in one of these forts. As for that bit of a lake, you know my opinion of that already, and I wish to disparage nothing. No real seafarer disparages anything. But damn me, if I regard this here Ontario, as they call it, as more than so much water in a ship's scuttle-butt. Now look you here, Mabel, if you wish to understand the difference between the ocean and a lake. I can make you comprehend it with a single look. This is what one may call a calm, seeing that there is no wind, though to own the truth, I do not think the calms are as calm as them we get outside. Uncle, there is not a breath of air. I do not think it possible for the leaves to be more immovably still than those of the entire forest are at this very moment. Leaves, what are leaves, child? There are no leaves at sea. If you wish to know whether it is a dead calm or not, try a mold candle. Your dips flaring too much, and then you may be certain whether there is or is not any wind. If you were in a latitude where the air was so still that you found a difficulty in stirring it to draw it in in breathing, you might fancy it a calm. People are often on a short allowance of air in the calm latitudes. Here again, look at that water. It is like milk in a pan, with no more motion now than there is in a full hog's-head before the bung is started. In the ocean the water is never still. Let the air be as quiet as it may. The water of the ocean never still, Uncle Cap? Not even in a calm? Bless your heart, no child. The ocean breathes like a living being, and its bosom is always heaving, as the poetsers call it, though there be no more air than there is to be found in a siphon. No man ever saw the ocean still like this lake, but it heaves and sets as if it had lungs. And this lake is not absolutely still, for you perceive there is a little ripple on the shore, and you may even hear the surf plunging it momentsome against the rocks. All damned poetry! Lake Ontario is no more the Atlantic than a Powell's Hook periagilla is a first rate. That jasper, notwithstanding, is a fine lad, and wants instruction only to make a man of him. Do you think him ignorant, Uncle? answered Maple, pridly adjusting her hair, in order to do which she was obliged, or fancy she was obliged, to turn away her face. To me Jasper O'Doose appears to know more than most of the young men of his class. He is red but little, for books are not plenty in this part of the world, but he is thought much, at least, so it seems to me, for one so young. He is ignorant, as all must be who navigate an inland water like this. No, no, Maple, we both owe something to Jasper and the Pathfinder, and I have been thinking how I can best serve them, for I hold in gratitude to be the vice of a hog. Portreat the animal to your own dinner, and he would eat you for the dessert. Very true, dear Uncle, we ought indeed to do all we can to express our proper sense of the services of both these brave men. Spoken like your mother's daughter, girl, and in a way to do credit to the cap family. Now I have hit upon a traverse that will just suit all parties, and as soon as we get back from this little expedition down the lake among them their thousand islands, and I am ready to return, it is my intention to propose it. Dearest Uncle, this is so considerate in you, and will be so just. May I ask what your intentions are? I see no reason for keeping them a secret from you, Maple, though nothing need be said to your father about them, for the sergeant has his prejudices and might throw difficulties in the way. Neither Jasper nor his friend Pathfinder can ever make anything hear abouts, and I propose to take both with me down to the coast and get them fairly afloat. Victor would find his sea-legs in a fortnight, and a twelve-month voyage would make him a man. Although Pathfinder might take more time, or never get to be rated able, yet one could make something of him, too, particularly as a look-out for he has unusually good eyes. Uncle, do you think either would consent to this? said Maple, smiling. Do I suppose them simpletons? What rational being would neglect his own advancement?  And would he be any the happier for it, dear uncle?  Poo-poo, magnet! You were just fit to read lectures about ships before some hysterical society. You don't know what you're talking about. Leave these things to me, and they'll be properly managed. Ha! Here is the Pathfinder himself, and I may just as well drop him a hint of my benevolent intentions as regards himself. Hope is a great encourager of our exertions. Cap nodded his head, and then ceased to speak, while the hunter approached, not with his usual frank and easy manner, but in a way to show that he was slightly embarrassed, if not distrustful of his reception. Uncle and niece make a family party, said Pathfinder, when near the two. And a stranger may not prove a welcome companion. You are no stranger, Master Pathfinder. Returned Cap. And no one can be more welcome than yourself. We were talking of you but a moment ago, and when friends speak of an absent man he can guess what they have said. I ask no secrets. Every man has his enemies, and I have mine, though I count neither you, Master Cap, nor pretty Mabel here among the number. As for the mingos, I will say nothing, though they have no just cause to hate me. That I'll answer for, Pathfinder, for you strike my fancy as being well disposed and upright. There is a method, however, of getting away from the enmity of even these mingos. And if you choose to take it, no one will more willingly pointed out than myself without a charge for my advice, either. I wish no enemies salt water, for so the Pathfinder had begun to call Cap, having insensibly to himself adopted the term by translating the name given him by the Indians in and about the Fort. I wish no enemies. I'm as ready to bury the hatchet with the mingos as with the French, though you know that it depends on one greater than either of us, so to turn the heart as to leave a man without enemies. By lifting your anchor and accompanying me down to the coast, friend Pathfinder, when we get back from the short cruise on which we are bound, you will find yourself beyond the sound of the war-whoop and safe enough from any Indian bullet. And what should I do on the salt water? Hunt in your towns, follow the trails of people going and coming from market, and ambush dogs in poultry? You are no friend to my happiness, Master Cap, if you would leave me out of the shades of the woods to put me in the sun of the clearings. I do not propose to leave you in the settlement's Pathfinder, but to carry you out to sea, where a man can only be said to breathe freely. Mabel will tell you that such was my intention, before a word was set on the subject. And what does Mabel think would come of such a change? He knows that a man has his gifts, and that it is as useless to pretend to others as to withstand them that come from Providence. I am a hunter, and a scout, and a guide, salt water, and it is not in me to fly so much in the face of heaven as to try to become anything else. Am I right, Mabel? Or are you so much a woman as to wish to see a nature altered? I would wish to see no change in you, Pathfinder. Mabel answered with a cordial sincerity and frankness that went directly to the hunter's heart. And much as my uncle admires the sea, and great as is all the good that he thinks may come of it, I could not wish to see the best and noblest hunter of the woods transformed into an admiral. Remain what you are, my brave friend, and you need fear nothing short of the anger of God. Do you hear this salt water? Do you hear what the sergeant's daughter is saying? That she is much too upright and fair-minded and pretty not to think what she says. So long as she is satisfied with me as I am, I shall not fly in the face of the gifts of Providence by striving to become anything else. I may seem useless here in a garrison, but when we get down among the Thousand Islands there may be an opportunity to prove that a sure rifle is sometimes a godsend. You are then to be of our party? said Mabel, smiling so frankly and so sweetly on the guide that he would have followed her to the end of the earth. I shall be the only female, with the exception of one soldier's wife, and shall feel none the less secure, Pathfinder, because you will be among our protectors. The sergeant would do that, Mabel, though you are not his kin. No one will overlook you. I should think your uncle here would like an expedition of this sort, where we shall go with sales and have a look at an inland sea. Your inland sea is no great matter, Master Pathfinder, and I expect nothing from it. I confess, however, I should like to know the object of the cruise, for one does not wish to be idle, and my brother-in-law, the sergeant, is as close-mouthed as a freemason.  What in the least, uncle? I dare not ask my father any questions about his duty, for he thinks it is not a woman's business, and all I can say is, that we are to sail as soon as the wind will permit, and that we are to be absent a month. Perhaps Master Pathfinder can give me a useful hint, for a voyage without an object is never pleasant to an old sailor. There is no great secret salt water concerning our port and object, though it is forbidden to talk much about either in the garrison. I am no soldier, however, and can use my tongue as I please, though as little given as another to idle conversation. I hope, still, as we sail so soon, and you are both to be of the party, you may as well be told where you are to be carried. You know that there are such things as the Thousand Islands, I suppose, Master Cap. I, what are so-called here-away, though I take it for granted that they are not real islands, such as we fall in with on the ocean, and that the Thousand means some such matter as two or three. My eyes are good, and yet have I often been foiled in trying to count them very islands. I, I, I've known people who couldn't count beyond a certain number. Your real land-birds never know their own roosts, even in a landfall at sea. How many times have I seen the beach, and houses, and churches, when the passengers have not been able to see anything but water? I have no idea that a man can get fairly out of sight a land on fresh water. A thing appears to me to be irrational and impossible. You don't know the lakes, Master Cap, or you would not say that. Before we get to the Thousand Islands you will have other notions of what nature has done in this wilderness. I have my doubts whether you have such a thing as a real island in all this region. We'll show you hundreds of them, not exactly a thousand, perhaps, but so many that I cannot see them all nor tongue count them. I'll engage when the truth comes to be known. They'll turn out to be nothing but peninsulas, or promontories, or continents, though these are matters, I dare say, of which you know little or nothing. But islands are no islands. What is the object of the cruise, Master Pathfinder? There can be no harm in giving you some idea of what we are going to do.  Who hasn't? I will not say I've ever been inside the harbor, but I've frequently been off the place. Then you are about to go upon ground with which you are acquainted. These great lakes you must know. Take a chain, the water passing out of one into the other, until it reaches Erie, which is a sheet off here to the westward, as large as Ontario itself. Well, out of Erie the water comes, until it reaches a low mountain-like over the edge of which it passes. I should like to know how the devil it can do that. Why, easy enough, Master Cap, returned Pathfinder, laughing. Something that is only to fall downhill. Had I said the water went up the mountain, there would have been nature again it. But we hold it no great matter for water to run downhill. That is, fresh water. Aye, aye, but you speak of the water of the lakes coming down the side of a mountain. It's in the teeth of reason, if reason has any teeth. Well, well, we will not dispute the point. But what I've seen, I've seen. After getting into Ontario, all the water of all the lakes passes down into the sea by a river, and in the narrow part of the sheet, where it is neither river nor lake, lie the islands spoken of. Now Frontenac is a post of the Frenchers above these same islands, and as they hold the garrison below, their stores and ammunition are sent up the river to Frontenac, to be forwarded along the shores of this and the other lakes, in order to enable the enemy to play his devilrys among the savages and to take Christian scalps. And will our presence prevent these horrible acts, demanded Mabel with interest. It may or it may not, as Providence wills. Lundy, as they call him, he who commands the garrison, sent a party down to take a station among the islands, to cut off some of the French boats, and this expedition of ours will be the second relief. As yet they've not done much, though two bateaux, loaded with Indian goods, have been taken. But a runner came in last week, and brought such tidings that the major is about to make a last effort to circumvent the knaves. Jasper knows the way, and we shall be in good hands, for the sergeant is prudent, and of the first quality at an ambushment. Yes, he is both prudent and alert. Is this all? said Cap contemptuously. By the preparations and equipments I had thought there was to be a forced trade in the wind, and that an honest penny might be turned by taking an adventure. I suppose there are no shares in your fresh water prize money. Anon. I take it for granted the king gets all in these soldering parties and ambushments, as you call them. I know nothing about that, Master Cap. I take my share of the lead and powder if any falls into our hands, and say nothing to the king about it. If any one fares better, it is not I, though it is time I did begin to think of a house and furniture and a home. Although the Pathfinder did not dare to look at Mabel while he made this direct allusion to his change of wife, he would have given the world to know whether she was listening, and what was the expression of her countenance. Little-little suspected the nature of the illusion, however, and her countenance was perfectly unembarrassed as she turned her eyes towards the river, where the appearance of some movement on board the scud began to be visible. Jasper is bringing the cutter out, observed the guide, whose look was drawn in the same direction by the fall of some heavy article on the deck. The lad sees the signs of wind, no doubt, and wishes to be ready for it. I now wish I'll have an opportunity of learning seamanship, returns cap with a sneer. There is a nicety in getting a craft under her canvas that shows the thoroughbred mariner as much as anything else. It's like a soldier buttoning his coat, and one can see whether he begins at the top or the bottom. I will not say that Jasper is equal to your seafarers below, observed Pathfinder, across whose upright mind an unworthy feeling of envy or of jealousy never passed. But he is a bold boy, and manages his cutter as skillfully as any man could desire, on this lake at least. You didn't find him backwards at the Oswego Falls, Master Cap, where fresh water contrives to tumble downhill with little difficulty. Cap made no other answer than a dissatisfied ejaculation, and then a general silence followed, all on the bastions studying the movements of the cutter with the interest that was natural to their own future connection with the vessel. It was still a dead calm, the surface of the lake literally glittering with the last rays of the sun. The scud had been warped up to a cage that lay a hundred yards above the points of the outlet, where she had room to maneuver in the river, which then formed the harbor of Oswego. But the total want of air prevented any such attempt, and it was soon evident that the light vessel was to be taken through the passage under her sweeps. Not a sail was loosened, but as soon as the cage was tripped, the heavy fall of the sweeps was heard, when the cutter, with her head upstream, began to shear towards the center of the current, on reaching which the efforts of the men ceased, and she drifted towards the outlet. In the narrow pass itself her movement was rapid, and in less than five minutes the scud was floating outside of the two low gravelly points which intercepted the waves of the lake. No anchor was let go, but the vessel continued to set out from the land until her dark hull was seen resting on the glossy surface of the lake, full a quarter of a mile beyond the low bluff which formed the eastern extremity of what might be called the Outer Harbor or Roadstead. Here the influence of the river current ceased, and she became virtually stationary. She seems very beautiful to me, uncle, said Mabel, whose gaze had not been averted from the cutter for a single moment while it had thus been changing its position. I daresay you can find faults in her appearance, and in the way she has managed, but to my ignorance both are perfect. Aye, aye, she drops down with the current well enough girl, and so would a chip. But when you come to niceties, all old tar like myself has no need of spectacles to find fault. Well, Master Cap put in the guide, who seldom heard anything to Jasper's prejudice without manifesting a disposition to interfere. I've heard old and experienced salt-water mariners confess that the scud is as pretty a craft as floats. I know nothing of such matters myself. But one may have his own notions about a ship, even though they be wrong notions, and it would take more than one witness to persuade me Jasper does not keep his boat in good order. I do not say the cutter is downright liberally, Master Pathfinder, but she has faults, and great faults. And what are they, uncle, if he knew them Jasper would be glad to mend them? What are they? Why, fifty, aye, for that matter a hundred, very material and manifest faults. To name them, sir, and Pathfinder will mention them to his friend. Name them. It is no easy matter to call off the stars, for the simple reason that they are so numerous. Name them, indeed. Why, my pretty niece, Miss Magnet, what do you think of that main boom now?  Faults, indeed! No seaman could look at her a moment without seeing that she is as full of faults as a servant who has asked for his discharge. This may be very true, uncle, though I much question if Jasper knows of them. I don't think he would suffer these things, Pathfinder, if they were once pointed out to him. Let Jasper manage his own cutter, Mabel. His gift lies that away, and I'll answer for it, for no one can teach him how to keep the scud out of the hands of the frontenackers or their devilish mingo-friends. His gift lies that away, and I'll answer for it. No one can teach him how to keep the scud out of the hands of the frontenackers or their devilish mingo-friends. Who cares for round turns in Kedge's, and for hauses that are top too high, Master Cap, so long as the craft sails well and keeps clear of the Frenchers? I will trust Jasper against all the seafarers of the coast up here on the lakes. But I don't say he has any gift for the ocean, for there he has never been tried. Cap smiled condescendingly, and he did not think it necessary to push his criticisms any further just at that moment. By this time the cutter had begun to drift at the mercy of the currents of the lake, her head turning in all directions, though slowly, and not in a way to attract particular attention. Just at this moment the jib was loosened and hoisted, and presently the canvas swelled towards the land, though no evidences of air was yet to be seen on the surface of the water. Slight however as was the impulsion, the light-haul yielded, and in another minute the scud was seen standing across the current of the river with a movement so easy and moderate as to be scarcely perceptible. When out of the stream she struck an eddy and shot up towards the land, under the eminence where the fort stood when Jasper dropped his cage. Not loverly done, muttered Cap in a sort of soliloquy, not over-loverly, though we should have put his helmet starboard instead of a port, for a vessel ought always to come to with her head offshore, whether she is a league from the land or only a cable's length, since it has a careful look and looks or something in this world. Jasper is a handy lad. Suddenly observed Sergeant Dunham at his brother-in-law's elbow, and we place great reliance on his skill in our expeditions. But come, one and all, we have but half an hour more of daylight to embark in, and the boats will be ready for us by the time we are ready for them. On this intimation the whole party separated, each to find those trifles which had not been shipped already. A few taps of the drum gave the necessary signal to the soldier.