to fire at, I don't know; but we lost our patience, and got nothing in exchange."

"Speak for yourself," said the other. "I assure you I was sensible of no ground of impatience while going over such a superb country as this."

"It is a fine country," said Mr. Ringgan "all this tract and I ought to know it, for I have hunted every mile of it for many a mile around. There used to be more game than partridges in these hills, when I was a young man; bears and wolves, and deer, and now and then a panther, to say nothing of rattlesnakes."

"That last-mentioned is an irregular sort or game, is it not." said Mr. Carleton, smiling.

"Well, game is what you choose to make it," said the old gentleman. "I have seen worse days' sport than I saw once when we were out after rattlesnakes, and nothing else. There was a cave, Sir, down under a mountain, a few miles to the south of this, right at the foot of a bluff some four or five hundred feet sheer down; it was known to be a resort of those creatures, and a party of us went out it's many years ago, now to see if we couldn't destroy the nest; exterminate the whole horde. We had one dog with us, a little dog, a kind of spaniel, a little white and yellow fellow, and he did the work! Well, Sir, how many of those vermin do you guess that little creature made a finish of that day? of large and small, Sir, there were two hundred and twelve."

"He must have been a gallant little fellow."

"You never saw a creature, Sir, take to a sport better; he just dashed in among them, from one to another, he would catch a snake by the neck and give it a shake, and throw it down and rush at another; poor fellow, it was his last day's sport, he died almost as soon as it was over; he must have received a great many bites. The place is known as the rattlesnakes' den to this day, though there are none there now, I believe."

"My little cousin is well, I hope," said Mr. Rossitur.

"She? yes, bless her! she is always well. Where is she? Fairy, where are you? Cynthy, just call Elfleda here."

"She's just in the thick of the muffins, Mr. Ringgan."

"Let the muffins burn! Call her."

Miss Cynthia accordingly opened a little way the door of the passage, from which a blue stifling smoke immediately made its way into the room, and called out to Fleda, whose little voice was heard faintly responding from the distance.

"It's a wonder she can hear through all that smoke," remarked
Cynthia.

"She," said Mr. Ringgan, laughing; "she's playing cook or housekeeper in yonder, getting something ready for tea. She's a busy little spirit, if ever there was one. Ah! there she is. Come here, Fleda here's your cousin Rossitur from West Point, and Mr. Carleton."

Fleda made her appearance flushed with the heat of the stove and the excitement of turning the muffins, and the little iron spatula she used for that purpose still in her hand; and a fresh and larger puff of the unsavoury blue smoke accompanied her entrance. She came forward, however, gravely, and without the slightest embarrassment, to receive her cousin's somewhat unceremonious "How do, Fleda?" and, keeping the spatula still in one hand, shook hands with him with the other. But at the very different manner in which Mr. Carleton rose and greeted her, the flush on Fleda's cheek deepened, and she cast down her eyes and stepped back to her grandfather's side with the demureness of a young lady just undergoing the ceremony of presentation.

"You come upon us out of a cloud, Fleda," said her cousin. "Is that the way you have acquired a right to the name of Fairy?"

"I am sure, no," said Mr. Carleton.

Fleda did not lift up her eyes, but her mounting colour showed that she understood both speeches.

"Because, if you are in general such a misty personage," Mr. Rossitur went on, half laughing, "I would humbly recommend a choice of incense."

"O, I forgot to open the windows!" exclaimed Fleda, ingenuously. "Cynthy, wont you, please, go and do it! And take this with you," said she, holding out the spatula.

" She is as good a fairy as I want to see," said her grandfather, passing his arm fondly round her. "She carries a ray of sunshine in her right hand; and that's as magic-working a wand as any fairy ever wielded hey, Mr. Carleton?"

Mr. Carleton bowed. But whether the sunshine of affection in Fleda's glance and smile at her grandfather, made him feel that she was above a compliment, or whether it put the words out of his head, certain it is that he uttered none.

"So you've had bad success to-day," continued Mr. Ringgan,
"Where have you been? and what after? partridges?"

"No, Sir," said Mr. Carleton, "my friend Rossitur promised me a rare bag of woodcock, which I understand to be the best of American feathered game; and, in pursuance of his promise, led me over a large extent of meadow and swamp land, this morning, with which, in the course of several hours, I became extremely familiar, without flushing a single bird."

"Meadow and swamp land!" said the old gentleman.
"Whereabouts?"

"A mile or more beyond the little village over here, where we left our horses," said Rossitur. "We beat the ground well, but there were no signs of them even."

"We had not the right kind of dog," said Mr. Carleton.

"We had the kind that is always used here," said Rossitur; "nobody knows anything about a Cocker in America."

"Ah, it was too wet," said Mr. Ringgan. "I could have told you that. There has been too much rain. You wouldn't find a woodcock in that swamp, after such a day as we had a few days ago. But speaking of game, Mr. Rossitur, I don't know anything in America equal to the grouse. It is far before woodcock. I remember, many years back, going a grouse shooting, I and a friend, down in Pennsylvania; we went two or three days running, and the birds we got were worth a whole season of woodcock. But, gentlemen, if you are not discouraged with your day's experience, and want to try again, I'll put you in a way to get as many woodcock as will satisfy you if you'll come here to-morrow morning. I'll go out with you far enough to show you the way to the best ground I know for shooting that game in all this country; you'll have a good chance for partridges, too, in the course of the day; and that aint bad eating, when you can't get better is it, Fairy?" he said, with a sudden smiling appeal to the little girl at his side. Her answer again was only an intelligent glance.

The young sportsmen both thanked him and promised to take advantage of his kind offer. Fleda seized the opportunity to steal another look at the strangers; but meeting Mr. Carleton's eyes fixed on her with a remarkably soft and gentle expression, she withdrew her own again as fast as possible, and came to the conclusion that the only safe place for them was the floor.

"I wish I was a little younger, and I'd take my gun and go along with you myself," said the old gentleman, pleasantly; "but," he added, sighing, "there is a time for everything, and my time for sporting is past."

"You have no right to complain, Sir," said Mr. Carleton, with a meaning glance and smile, which the old gentleman took in excellent good part.

"Well," said he, looking half proudly, half tenderly, upon the little demure figure at his side, "I don't say that I have. I hope I thank God for his mercies, and am happy. But in this world, Mr. Carleton, there is hardly a blessing but what draws a care after it. Well well these things will all be arranged for us!"