"

my way among dried leaves and twigs with a con- rough and tumble" fight, I was a mere infant in his sciousness that my safety depended somewhat upon powerful arms. Expecting nothing but instant death, my discretion. Before I had reached the half mile II was murmuring a silent prayer, when his hold rehad supposed intervened, I was suddenly" brought laxed, and he said, slowly and calmly, and in his sinto" by a stern voice, which exclaimed, in tones of gular way, "You're not Steve White? I should thunder, the mystic word "Stand." I did stand with know him among ten thousand. His features, though astonishment, and, as I looked up, saw, within fifty they were changed and altered to a woman's or devil's, yards of me, one of the most ferocious looking mon- couldn't deceive me. You ain't Steve White-pooh, sters that ever crossed my path. His beard was at pooh, I should have known that before. Git up, man, least a foot in length, and as black as the charred coal git up, and thank your luck that I looked into your of my fire-place, while his hair hung down his shoul-face before I cut your heart to pieces." ders like the mane of a wild horse. He was clothed I arose quite crest-fallen, rightly concluding that from head to foot in skins, no portion of his body showing a remnant of cloth or leather. Upon his head was a rude, clumsily fashioned cap of the skin of a wild cat, with the tail hanging down behind, and his arms and legs were encased in an apparent bag of undressed buffalo skins, giving him the appearance of a bison biped. Over his shoulder hung a thong of the buffalo, to which was attached a rude powder horn and bullet pouch. Taken altogether I had never seen a more remarkable looking personage, and though unaware of his color, nature, or even humanity, I determined to speak to him. After hoisting the butt of my rifle in token of submission, for his "sight" was upon me, I asked, in a loud voice,

"Are you friend or foe?"

this was more of an adventure than I had bargained for. When I had told him my name and brought to his mind my participation in his quarrel twenty years before, he shook me cordially by the hand and exclaimed, "If you've got room for a black bear like me, I'll go to your hut. If not, say so, for I ain't particularly fond of company."

Of course I invited him to share the hospitalities of my rude home, and after cutting up the deer which his rifle shot had killed, we set out for my abode.

After dinner I determined to inquire into the cause of his long absence from home, and evident determination to follow up a chase which could not be very promising in its results, and was certainly the emanation of a madman. I could hardly reconcile to myself that

"I am friend to nobody," he answered very quiet-it was the once handsome, good humored Andy Powell, ly; "whether I'm a foe depends upon circumstances." As he lowered his rifle while speaking I ventured to approach him cautiously.

"It's the natur of man to be unfriendly," said he, " and I always like to keep my eye bright for a fight; mayhap, though, I do you wrong, for you do look as if you might mean well. I'll venture to shake your hand, because in close quarters I know I'm more than your match."

the pride of our little coterie of young hunters who now stood before me, in the bronzed, hard featured savage of the woods. The causes of his curious course were so very singular and yet founded upon the principles of acute judgment that I will give them in his own words as nearly as possible.

"When Steve White put that ragged piece of lead into me for whipping him in a fair trial of skill," said he, "I sort of concluded that friendship or intimacy

So saying this singular specimen of the human race warn't of any kind of use in the woods, where a man shook me warmly by the hand.

May I ask," said I, "what you are doing as far from the settlements as this?"

66

In course you may," answered he," and I'll do the same with you. As for me I live nigh here, and go out once in a while to pick up a stray deer or so." "How long have you lived in these parts ?" said I. "Four or five months, more or less," answered he. "I generally camp down in one spot about that time. I shall move next week farther south."

May I ask what is your object in moving so often from one place to another."

"Of course you may. I'm hunting after a chap who lives somewhere out here if he's alive, (which I pray to God is the case,) and I've been all above here without finding him. Mayhap you know him. His name is Stephen White. I call him, for short, Steve White."

has to take care of himself. So I just concluded to load and prime my rifle, step out of the entire settlements, and look to Billy here for help in the hour of need. I thought also that if Steve White would murder me for being his better, I could do no less than murder him for being worse than myself. It was rather necessary that I should find him though, before I showed him my knife, and the only difficulty with me seemed to be where to find him. I knew enough of the natur and disposition of the crittur to see that he wouldn't steer for the settlements, and accordingly set straight out for the unexplored regions, where, in the back grounds, near the Indians, I hoped to find him. I knew the man thought he had blood on his soul, and wouldn't rest satisfied to live where he could be seen and talked to. I knew that his conscience,for a murderer has more conscience than half the honest fools who struggle through the world-wouldn't let him sleep where he might chance to wake up among some of the friends of the murdered man, and so I set out for the wild woods to find him. I have Quicker than the flash of my own rifle was his travelled and tramped from east to west, from north primed and aimed at my breast, but standing as I did to south, searching out unknown hunters and spying within three feet of him, it was an easy task to grasp among the Indians for some mysterious hunter whose it, and the contents passed harmlessly into the air.- movements were always guarded and obscure. I Before I could move an inch, however, I was in his have spotted and searched out more than twenty, ay. terrible embrace and borne to the ground. How I more than fifty such in dark nooks and corners, but so then cursed myself for the folly of addressing a mad-far have not yet found the man. But I shall find him man-of inciting the passions of a fiend. Though a yet; I shall, before long, track him out and trace him very powerful man, and afraid of no one living in a to his den, and the only favor I have to ask at the

Had a tiger dropped from a branch above at my feet I could not have screamed out louder than I did. "And your name is Andy Powell?"

hands of the Great Spirit, the only boon I ask for the | need, can bite. Have you a bite of any thing handy long life of toil and hardships I've led is, the chance, to stay a man's stomach for supper, friends," he conthe opportunity, of meeting, face to face, the only man tinued to me. on earth to whom I owe any sort of a debt. Steve White I do owe something, and if I ever cross his path I'll settle up in full all my arrears and give him a quit claim. Ragged bullets, eh? Here's one of them. I have kept it a long time-it's now almost worn smooth, though once there were some sharp corners as I can swear most willingly."

As I rose without answer to attend him, my eyes involuntarily turned to Andy's face, and I recoiled with a sort of unspeakable horror I could not explain. Never in my life did I look upon such a picture of malignant hate, allied to a species of joy, which pained by its very intensity, as was then presented to my gaze. His eyes seemed as though starting from their So saying, he drew from an unseen pocket an old sockets, his cheeks appeared the receptacle of all the ragged bullet, showing some deep indentures, evident- blood of his veins, his hands twitched with a convul ly the work of years before, and held it up admiringly sive energy that marked the presence of powerful exbefore me. After gazing pleasantly upon it for a few citement, while his manner bespoke the inward workmoments he placed away as though afraid its con-ings of a passion whose force would soon burst the tamination with common air might in some degree affect its purity.

bounds of all control, and deluge us with its power. His very soul seemed reading the stranger's heart, and cross-questioning his every thought-while big drops of sweat upon his brow too plainly proved the volcano raging within.

With a show of calmness which ill accorded with his looks, he said to the stranger

I knew not what to think of him now. Crazy he evidently was not, for he conversed rationally upon every subject advanced, though with the air of a man who had but one object in view, and wished other matters to assume a secondary interest. Morose and sullen he certainly was not, though obstinately revengeful, and I at last concluded that he was rational upon all subjects save that of inveterate pur-ter of course that I shall tell you. And, begging your suit of his old and bitter enemy. pardon, don't you think it rather of an impertinent question?"

At last evening came and found us still conversing over a bright fire of the knots of pitch pine. We needed no other light, for the brilliancy streamed through the room, and lent an air of comfort to the apartment, anything but cheerless and unpleasant.Suddenly, during a pause in the conversation, which up to this time had been incessant, a knock was heard at the door, so loud and startling that we both involuntarily rose to our feet and examined the priming of our rifles simultaneously. Such an event as a call at my door I had never known, even in the day time, and thus to be aroused in the night was something for which I was quite unprepared. But these thoughts did not detain me long. I opened the door, and before me stood an apparition of an armed man as it seemed, so clothed and covered was he with weapons from head to foot. His dress was the common garb of the hunter, but so encumbered by offensive implements that I could scarce distinguish the hunting shirt which encompassed his broad chest. In his hand was a common rifle, evidently used to hard usage, for the stock bore the marks of many a hand-to-hand conflict, while from his shoulders depended a broad belt literally filled with pistols and hunting knifes. I had never before seen so complete an impersonation of warfare, and hardly knew whether to give him a welcome or shut the door in his face. The former suggestion triumphed, and I invited him in. Without speaking a syllable he strode into the room and coolly took the seat nearest the fire, placing his rifle on the floor beside him.

"May I ask the favor of your name, sir?"
"Yes," answered he, "but it don't foller as a mat-

Prehaps 'tis," answered Andy, with no manifestation of anger at the repulse; "but may I ask if you aint a shoot from the west slope of the Alleghanies?" Prehaps so, prehaps not," answered the stranger quickly. "Why?"

I'll warrant you've forded the head waters of the Great Kanawha time and agin, if the truth was known. Now, haint you?" continued Andy, without noticing his abrupt replies.

66

'Maybe," was the wily response of the other. "And I haint any doubt you got a sharp cut once over your left eye from somebody in a quarrel.?"

The stranger for the first time looked his questioner in the face and put his hand to his belt. He spoke not yet a word.

"And I'd swear from your eye you've shot larger game than deer or bears in your time. would'nt be surprised if you'd even brought down your man— of course in fair fight, in no other way, I'll be bound?"

Still the stranger spoke not. His eyes gleamed forth an aspect more plain to be understood than the words he wished to utter.

As abrupt as a transition from smiles to tears were Andy's next words. His voice, his look, his gesture before but the pleasant sallies of a jesting mindwere now transformed into the incipient demonstration of a denunciation of terrific power.

"Did you ever shoot a friend down when his back was turned-and think, think, I say, a ragged bullet would make his body a resting-place for the worms "All friends here, or inclined for a fight?" he asked that creep the earth? Stephen White, your hour is after a moment's pause, and in a bullying tone I did come! Twenty years, drawn out to eternity, have I not much relish; "I always like to know how I stand lived in hope of meeting, of clasping you. Twenty in company." years of a pilgrimage for revenge have I trod the for"I am agreeable to either," answered Andy prompt-ests, a wanderer, a self-exiled outcast, living, breathly, "but as I don't see any need of a fuss, 'spose we ing, gloating, fattenning on the thoughts of this say friendly." blessed hour. My food by day, and my sleep by "Good!" said the stranger. "I don't like to quar-night, have been sanctified to me by the hope of this rel; for, when I quarrel, I sometimes use one of my consummation, and now I am repaid-yes, fifty times playthings here, and they're not so comfortable when over-for the blank in my existence your cursed hand in motion, you know. I never bark, but when there's marked out. I had not hoped for such a meeting,

though. I had not even dared to hope that I could | the wretched man. Volumes of hate that hate meet you manfully, and in a fair struggle tear your which groweth unto death-were written on his brow, heart from your body. Throw aside your rifle now, and hand to hand, with none to molest us, we'll renew the struggles of our young days, with more of bitterness and deadly intent than ever you felt when you stooped to an act unworthy of an Indian."

During his speech the outlaw spoke not a word, lifted not his hand, and save a deadly paleness which covered his face, showed no sign of emotion. But now his fingers raised a pistol with the suddenness of thought, and ere the trigger could be pulled, it lay in a corner of the room, where the strong arm of Andy Powell had launched it. Another moment, and the strong men grappled!

Without an oath, without a word, without a thought of other than deadly strife, they clung to each other like ferocious tigers. Both were herculean in strength and gigantic in proportions, which inclined the victory for a while to neither side. But at last the tremendous nerve and inexhaustible strength of Andy conquered, and with a crash like the fall of a dead tree of the forest, White fell to the ground beneath the body of his antagonist. He spoke no word, he asked no reprieve from his fate, but lay powerless and ready to meet his doom. There was a triumph in the eye of Andy, which augured no sympathy, no hope for

and I turned my head to miss the fatal blow. I heard a slight struggle from the prisoner when his conqueror sought with his hand for the sharpened knife, a violent roll of his body for the ascendancy, and then with full force, through the leather of his pouch and the cloth of his garments, sped the instrument of death to the heart of the victim. The knife was not raised for the second blow-the first had done its duty.

Not a syllable was spoken by either of us that night. We retired to our beds in silence, each with the conviction that justice had been meted out with a liberal hand.

When I arose the next morning, the dead body of a man, pierced to the heart, lay on the floor before me. The log of the floor was perforated an inch by the blade of the knife, and clotted gore had run down and covered the hearth-stone with its muddy hue. Death and desolation had within a few hours been busy in their labors.

On the door of the cabin was written these few words "In another land I'll lay my bones; this one I leave content. Farewell, my friend-Farewell! Andy Powell and all belonging to him had vanished. B. BLANQUE.

LAMENT OF THE BROKEN HEARTED.

BY A. FELLOE.

[ORIGINAL.]

In the beautiful church-yard of the village of L- stands a plain, unassuming tablet of marble, on which is inscribed the simple words "Martha W -, aged 17 years, died May 11th, 1847, of a broken heart.

Angels ever bright and fair

Take, O take me to your care,
Speed to your own courts my fight,
Clad in robes of virgin white."

Stimulated by curiosity I inquired into the particulars of her
history. It was a short one, and contained nothing of romance.
"It was an ower true tale" and the counterpart of hundreds of
similar ones. She was the daughter of the clergyman of L
and the affianced bride of Edward D, a young man of the
neighborhood. He suddenly forsook her and the news of his be-
trothal to another was conveyed to her. She shed no tears, be-
trayed no outward signs of sorrow, uttered no words of reproach,
but like the summer rose gradually and gently faded away till
the very day before the marriage of her first love, when she yield-
ed up her spirit to God without a murmur. Many, ay, many
graves in our midst are consecrated by commingling with such
holy dust.

The feeble throbs of my wearied pulse
In fainter circles dart,

So press me close in thy welcome arms,

For, sister, we must part;

Yet ere I go I would unfold

The tale of a broken heart.

Uplift the blind of the casement, Kate,

I long for the sinking rays

Of the glorious orb the King of kings
Unfolds to our earthly gaze;

No cheerful beams of such radiant light
Around my fancy plays.

To-morrow, Kate, two varied peals
Will ring from our church bell;
The one a paan of purest joy
Upon the air will swell,
The other mournfully proclaim
Poor Martha's solemn knell.

A wedding, Kate, in the village church-
His wedding-O that I

Could hover o'er the altar's verge,

Unseen but to his eye;

O God! but for one blessed glance,
Ten thousands deaths I'd die.

One speaking glance! 'Twould tell a tale

Of deep embodied woo;

Not tears that stain the roseate cheek
With grief's momental glow,
But graven on my very soul
Despair's immortal throe.

The sunken eye and the pallid cheek,
Fit allies of my grief,

Would rise in their deformities,
And claim of him relief:

The budding flower of a season past

Is now but a faded leaf.

In the pleasant hours of childhood, Kate,
That happy, merry time,

When to the goal of womanhood
The path seemed smooth to climb,

I little thought my fancied joys

Would perish ere their prime.