word to any. If he was addressed he turned and retreated into the woods. Gradually he was lost sight of altogether, except to David Boone, that far-famed hunter whose name is familiar over the whole continent of America. David Boone was believed to have frequent interviews with him, and to supply him with powder and ball, but he never spoke of him, and only replied to questions by shaking his head and touching his brow with his finger.

This went on for two years, and men had almost forgotten Bill Smith. But at the end of that time a Shawanee Indian was taken prisoner by the peo- | ple of Boone's fort, and he once more revived the excitement as to the mystery of the Silent Hunter. He said that a terrible spirit had for two years haunted the war-path of the Shawanees,-an evil demon, whose sight was appalling to their nation. More than thirty of their best braves had already fallen under his hand. This fearful Medicine Man was sent, they believed, to punish them for some portentous sin. So dreaded had he become, that the tribe had met, and were nearly determined to quit for ever their ancient hunting-grounds in Kentucky. When asked whether they ever saw this demon, they said they had never seen it distinctly, though their young men had pursued it often, and always came back with one, at least, of their number missing. At length none dared to follow this terrible apparition.

tion fixed itself in his mind. It became madness. He never more spoke to man, but silently and remorselessly haunted the trail of the Shawanees to slay every one that came within the range of his far-famed rifle. Then, after that Indian tribe had gone from its ancient hurting-grounds, he retired, mute and alone, to the most inaccessible part of the Green River Hills. There, in a shady cleft, remote from the habitations of men, he built himself a hut, where, in solitary quiet, he passed the remainder of his days. He hunted to supply himself with food, and skins enough to exchange for powder and shot, which an old man at an out-settlement down on the Green River was accustomed to supply him with. His life was protracted to the age of eighty-eight.

One day the old man at the settlement was heard to say that something must have happened to the Silent Hunter, for he had not come as usual to fill his shot-bag, and his powder-pouch. Bidding no one to follow him, he went away to the Green River Mountain, and when he came back, though many questioned, he said nothing of where he had been. From that day, however, no man ever saw the Silent Hunter. No one heard of his fate, but it became a dim tradition in that country that his spirit was still among the mountains of the Green River,

Not many years ago, however, Webber, the hunter-naturalist, started with a companion in search of game among the Green River Hills.After wandering for many days among their soli tudes, they came to the dwelling of an old trapper, living alone with the dogs,-an eremite of the forest, full of its traditions, and familiar with all the spots they haunted. He said that, near that place lay, under a black oak, the grave of a mighty hunter. He had been a mysterious inhab

After this story had been rumoured abroad, men began again to speak of Bill Smith. They spoke of him, however, with an unaccountable dread, and always in a low voice. The Shawanees had been formerly one of the most formidable and best organized of the Red nations. They now became timid, and carried on the most desultory warfare. They were beaten by every hostile tribe, for whenever a battle took place, the Silent Hun-itant of those mountains, and his resting bed was ter made his appearance suddenly, fighting with their enemies. If they attacked a fort, he was always among the defenders; if they defended a stronghold, he was never away, but regularly headed the assailants. But he came and went without speaking. He never greeted any man, and no man ever said farewell to him. The Border people looked on him with respect and fear; the Indians shuddered at his name, and the Shawanees especially looked upon him as a curse sent from the Great Spirit to exterminate their race.

At last they became so terrified by this phantom of the Silent Hunter perpetually haunting their paths, that they all collected and fled across the great stream of Kentucky. But he followed them over, and was ever on their hunting-grounds. So they fled again, and passed the Green River. He passed it too, and never crossed it again. Still the Indians were appalled by hearing of the braves slain in the forest and at their camp fires, by an arm which they now so fully believed to be the arm of some avenging spirit, that they never dreamed of a conflict. The Silent Hunter never lost their trail. Then they once more burned their wigwams, and went away for ever from that country. And when the last of the Shawanees had launched his canoe upon the Ohio, Bill Smith rose from amid the bushes on the shore, and fired after the little bark.

Revenge was his monomania. When he buried his wife and children, a rash and bloody resolu

marked by a stone. He had chosen it himself years before he died. It was near a spring of which he had drunk, and an old man had buried him, though no one had since visited the grave. Webber offered the trapper some money if he would lead them to the spot; but he shuddered, and refused, though at length, with visible trepidation, he consented to guide them within sight of it.

He walled before them for some time, among cliffs and trees, and over streams, and through hollows, until, from a bluff eminence, they looked down on a narrow wild plain. Over the surface of this lay sprinkled what seemed a number of flat rocks, but were in reality stone sarcophagi, or graves, which are to be found in thousands, sometimes covering miles of ground in the southern part of Kentucky and portions of Tennessee. The people who used this curious mode of sepulture are now extinct. They existed long before the Indian nation-long before the Red Skins hunted through these woods and savannahs. The burialgrounds are all that remain of them. They were, apparently, pigmies, for the graves are not, on an average, more than three feet in length. Some have imagined that these were only the tombs of their children, but the children of the Aztec nation, in this case, must have died by thousands when they were just about three feet high, and the older people must have been burned or secretly interred.

In one of these curious sepulchres the body of Bill Smith was discovered. It was a sarcophagus sunk in the earth, almost eighteen inches deep, by the same in width. The bottom and sides were lined with flat unhewn stone, and one of a similar kind was laid over the top. No cement of any kind had been used. The explorers examined the grave, they even disturbed the remains, but they laid them again in their place of rest, and left once more to his solitary repose the Silent Hunter of the Green River Hills.

What a dark and mournful story! How strange and chequered a life. It was the faith of this man to his early love, and the affection of his heart to her children, that made the terrible, silent, remorseless being he afterwards became. But he was not in his nature wicked. During the latter part of his life his mind was shaken by remembrance of that melancholy day, when Mattie and her little ones had been buried by his hands in the "Vale of Pines."-Eliza Cook's Journal.

THE FAIRY GIFT.

Ir was evening, and the dark-haired spirit, Malizia, sat alone beneath the shadow of a wide oak, looking down upon the fair valley of the Silverstream, whose fields and streams were gilded by the last rays of the sun. So pure and calm they seemed, sleeping there in their tranquil beauty, that even Malizia could not gaze unmoved. The raging passions of her heart were for a moment stilled; and stretching her arms towards the scene, with a look of earnest longing she exclaimed, "Oh! that I were a mortal! I might perhaps be happy." The softened mood, however, was but a transitory one; an instant afterwards the spirit's face had resumed its usual expression of listlessness and dejection, and mechanically her fingers played with the acorns that lay scattered at her feet.

custom, she was resolved to depend alone upon her own power of facination for leaving a faveurable impression upon the assembly she was about to visit. That that power was great she seemed scarcely to doubt, for it was with a hurried but well pleased glance at her own face in the stream, that she gave at length the signal to depart. In an instant a hundred wings were glittering in the moonbeams, and Malizia with her fairy tribe were seen floating through the calm blue air in the direction of Duke Johan's castle. They were admitted there without inquiry or delay; for to few courts is Malizia a stranger, and the courtiers, as they made way for her to pass, neither expressed nor felt astonishment at her entrance.

Reaching at last the royal presence, she advanced with a quiet step, and kneeling gracefully before the duchess, said, as she kissed her hand, "Pardon me, princess, if my interest in your daughter's welfare has led me to forget the laws of etiquette, and present myself here unasked." Then, as if wishing to cover the confusion, but ill-concealed beneath the dignity of the duchess's reply, she added, with a smile, You feared, perhaps, princess, that the fairy Malizia's gifts might bring misfortune to your child. Here, however, is one which shall throw gladness upon her life, -one through whose bright influence sorrow and tears shall lose their bitterness, and the world look always beautiful. If in a year from to-day she has not proved the truth of my words, let her destroy the gift."

As she spoke, she drew a small packet from her bosom, and presented it to the duchess, who could scarcely restrain a smile when, upon opening it, she found it to contain a pair of spectacles.

usage.

You need not fear to trust them to a child," continued Malizia, "they will remain to her when her other playthings are destroyed." Then calling gently to the little princess, she led her to her mother's side, and bade her look upon the sparkling trinket that the duchess had replaced in its case.

"Strange present for a child," she murmured; but her contempt was quickly changed to admiration, when, upon examining them more closely, she found them to be set with brilliants, and of a workmanship so delicate and so fine, that she almost feared to touch them. Two rose-leaves Suddenly the sound of bells was borne lightly formed the eyes; but fragile as they seemed, the by upon the wind. Malizia listened: at first with fairy assured her that they could with difficulty be indifference, but gradually, as the music ap-broken, having been dipped in a silver dew, proached, her attention was aroused, and at which, without dimming their colour, had renlength, as if awakened by some sudden recol-dered them firm, and able to resist even rough lection, she started to her feet exclaiming, "Today is the birthday of the Princess Margarita, and I am not among the invited guests at the castle. How dare they insult me thus? But I will be revenged. Duke Johan and his haughty duchess shall know the fairy Malizia does not belie her name." An hour afterwards, and she stood again beneath the shadow of the oak. Her whole appearance was altered, and even the character of her wondrous beauty was changed. It was softer, more feminine, but less brilliant; and her voice, as she addressed the fairy attendants that came thronging around her, was low and sweet as the sound of the distant bells.—| Malizia's was the soft, smothered lip that whispers to deceive, and hers the power to hide a bitter thought beneath a winning smile. Her dress, composed of a beautiful texture woven by fairy looms, was of that rich golden colour which is the natural hue of silk. Her long dark hair hung in abundance upon her neck, and amid the curls was fancifully twined a wreath of bluebells. She wore no other ornament; contrary to her usual

Pleased with the new toy, Margarita clapped her hands, then half laughing and half shily, she took it from the box, put it on, and looked round coquettishly for admiration and applause. It was wonderful the alteration that had taken place in her soft, pretty, childish features. Her deep blue eyes had suddenly acquired a meaning beyond her years, and her rosy lips had taken an expres. sion of earnest thoughtfulness that seemed to tell of wanderings in the land of dreams. All were conscious of and wondered at the change, but few were made aware of its cause, for at a slight distance the spectacles were invisible, betraying themselves only by the string of diamonds gleaming among the long fair curls.

While this conversation was going on, the withes were finished. Franz'seph called the man, who was whetting the scythes in the barn, and ordered him to carry the withes down to the stream. He himself followed with a pitchfork, and the manner in which he took it, as a walking-stick, and not on his shoulder, showed the strange feeling that reigned in the bosom of the proud and well-favored youth.

this, for he knew that his present apparent inacion was making him a richer man than if he worked weals into his hands and perspiration on his forehead. In lazy scorn he rode and drove to town for every trifle, and looked as if he sought something at home, or as if he had a secret sorrow. In truth, his face grew so red, that his friends began to fear for his health. His mother thought of applying to the doctor, and one day, when she was complaining of it to her cousin, the great farmer, Franz'seph, who was smoking a

A great many people when they go to law, won't hear of the slightest truth in the assertions of their opponents, or at most, they will allow only inap-cigar in his room, heard him say :propriate testimony to be the fact; and thus they imagine that they have already won their cause. Even so was it with Franz'seph in his conversation with the district gendarme.

Just back from the lazy life in a regiment, and not under the wholesome constraint of a father, the young man entered upon his field duties with great unwillingness. For a like reason he took a fancy to Faber, or Waterboots as he was called. Faber was neither a gentleman-owner nor a peasant, and his manner of dress manifested that at once. Educated at a scientific agricultural school, set forward in the world by a moderate fortune, which had been much increased by a marriage with the daughter of an inukeeper in town, Faber belonged to that order of men for whom no labor is too low, but who at the same time enlarge the sphere of their activity with an ever-watchful spirit, and who probably see mentally before them the renewal of the strong and unshaken interest in the soil. Faber gladly saw that Franz'seph took an interest in his experiments and studies for the better use of the powers of the soil, and Franz'seph was glad to be present, partly for the honor that the permission to remain conferred upon him, and partly because Faber, ever somewhat ceremonious, did not interfere with him by advice, while, everywhere else, he heard nothing but rougher or finer remarks upon his inexertion, which rankled in his bosom.

the truth must be told.

"Cut off the red cord from your son's military cap and he will be well. Don't allow him to smoke cigars,-that wants a third hand, and nothing can be done at the same time. But after all's said and done it's very simple. Your son Franz'seph is a lazy loon, and he turns himself seven times in bed in the morning, like the devil's spirit."

Franz'seph dashed the door open, and cried :"Say that again to my face, freely!" "If you choose. You're a lazy loon, then." have been lying on the ground by this." "If you were not Madeleine's father, you would

'Oh, I should have had my share. Certainly, Youhaven't wasted your strength, you have rested; but as to what concerns my Madeleine, you needn't restrain yourself, for if you begin in this manner, I tell you so that you that matter is at an end; may remember it."

The great farmer hereupon was seized with another fit of that dreadful cough, and the mother began to deprecate the quarrel, and told Franz'seph to go back to his room; then she accompanied her cousin to the door, and Franz'seph heard her say as they went out:

"But my Franz'seph means well; he's kindhearted enough, notwithstanding." "That's true," returned the other; "but he's angry and proud. I'll none of such."

"I'm a lazy loon;" cried Franz'seph from the window, and he thought to have won a great victory by his ingenuous confession; but the farmer never looked back, and Franz'seph never crossed his cousin's threshold again. Madeleine he only met secretly, and she was generally downcast and sorrowful. What was to be the event of this quarrel between her father and Franz'seph? and if he complained to her that everything looked so dismal to him, and he could never be merry, she was obliged to keep silence, for once she had said :—

"Well, I think it is because you don't work enough."

Lazy people-and, Franz'seph was of that class--generally seek the companionship of half-strangers, or cringing flatterers; in Franz'seph's case, Faber was among the former, and the village gendarme among the latter. Therefore he associated mostly with them, and appeared to be gay and gladsome. Yet the true spirit of enjoyment was wanting; everything was to him as if covered with a heavy fog, through which his love for the great farmer's daughter, Madeleine, often gleamed like a bright star. Sometimes he almost feared their union, and imagined himself going forward to slavery, in which he would have to give a reckoning of every hour and every duty; sometimes he hoped that when he could call Madeleine quite his own, fresh activity would arise within him, and the inexplicable "I don't say that," replied Madeleine, “but—” depression hanging about him would depart. This "There, that'll do!" interrupted Franz'seph, hope was now getting further and further a-field, Vroul lives over there; ask your father why she for the great farmer grew more unbearable every is a widow. Her husband was ill in bed at harday; he would listen to no promises, and deman- vest time, then she goes to her father and says: ded an entire estrangement from Faber, as theHe's going to lie in bed this heavy harvest time,' very first condition of reconciliation. Franz'seph'Oh! I'll soon cure him of that,' says the old only saw in it an extention of the feeling of hostility, as the great farmer had said that it was impossible that a farmer who had no capital, and had to live upon his harvest, could do such things as Waterboots did. Franz'seph scarcely replied to

"Oh! I'm a lazy loon!" returned Franz'seph, savagely.

man,-takes his whip and lashes away at the sick man till he gets up:-two days after this, he's dead and in his grave. Do you think, Madeleine, that I'd have that done to me?"

"But you are not ill," urged Madeleine.

"That's no matter, nobody shall tell me whether I'm to work or no."

From that time Madeleine had said nothing more on the subject, and Franz'seph probably felt himself that he ought to do otherwise, but he could not persuade himself to take the appearance of having been induced to work by the advice of others; so he seldom went out with the horses to the field, never carried anything anywhere, came in and out as if there was nothing to be done, and conducted himself generally as if he were only home upon leave of absence, and that every bit of work that he undertook, he was particularly to be thanked for.

at the running water, and felt, he knew not how, -he was as stunned as if he had received a heavy blow from a hammer; at length he collected himself, and the single thought lived within him as to how he could revenge himself for this affront; he could think of nothing, and yet he burned to make manifest by some great stroke what wrong had been done him. Again the thought flashed through his mind that he would show them all how mistaken they were, by restless labor; but he quickly condemned this humility again. Should he call upon each to witness his activity, and demand that all should bear him testimony by their opinions? Franz'seph was a soldier,--and dared these uncouth clod-poles judge of his honor? Of course he had to live among these people, but they must learn that he was something better than they. Therefore it seemed better to him that he should compel them to it, by showing that he despised them all. Therefore he would

his cigars amidst the slaving harvesters, and he would idle about in the village till all should beg his pardon at having mistaken him, and not hav ing recognised his inward love of industry. But how would the people acknowledge him to possess a virtue the very opposite of which he put before their eyes? However, they should do it, for what is that esteem and love worth, that requires the proofs to awaken it?

One of the blessings of labor is certainly destroyed by the obligation to work, but Franz'seph could not overcome the childish pride which was within him, and thus he suffered by it ;-while he was not carrying the withes to the brook himself, and transporting his pitchfork thither like a walking-stick and not on his back, then the often-saunter about in his Sunday clothes and smoke repressed thought came into his head, that he would go straight away to the great farmer, and say: Cousin, you are right, and you will see that I shall be industrious." But his breath came and went.quicker at the thought of such a thing, though he could not get rid of it, and he thrust the prongs of the fork deep into the ground, for it had become clear to him that his previous laziness, had put him in a false position; no matter how well he might act in future, the great farmer would ever look upon him with a suspicious eye, and he would then become still more open to the jeers of the village; if he had never obtained the character of an idler by his own actions, he would be in a vastly different position. The ending of this was, of course, anger and sorrow at his misspent time, and lazy uncertainty, mixed, indeed, with curses at the coming days,-at which season he always wished himself back again with the soldiers, for there is a fixed discipline to be followed, and that is followed, and no one need pay attention to anybody else's hints and observations. But this time he could not stop as he was; on Monday the harvest began, and the mutual defiance and strife between him and the world must end one way or another.

Franz'seph sent the man home, and steeped the withes in the stream with the pitchfork. For this purpose he had picked out a very comfortable place where some planks supported on piles driven into the mud formed a kind of landing-place. Besides, one could see from here excellently whatever passed at the great farmer's. Presently Franz'seph perceived Madeleine coming along with her father, they couldn't have observed him, for he had concealed himself behind the withes, yet he heard the farmer, as he crossed the stepping stones over the streamlet, coughing violently, and saying:

"A healthy person that wastes his time is worse than a beggar. Why, a common thief thinks, Lord! how good am I,-because he isn't stealing anything from anybody; and he lies down, and rolls about in his lazy skin, and says to himself: What a kind, good, easy soul I am!-Pooh! pooh !"

Franz'seph doubled his fists, and tried to answer and to swear, but the sounds stuck in his throat and almost threatened to stifle him. He stared

In the soul of this young man there arose a strife which he could not have expressed in words, and yet, there it was, working strange works within him, and passion opening unexpected fountains.

Far, far out in the middle of the stream did Franz'seph push the withes, so that they floated away with the current, as if he were thrusting from him with them every thought of labor, and he rejoiced in the coming time of idleness.

In idleness there is a peculiar pleasure,—indeed, it might be said there is a kind of passion in it of unfathomable enjoyment; shapes and feelings seem to dash into it in half-waking slumber, and to lose in the waves the life self-sacrificed. Of Madeleine, Franz'seph would hear nothing more, as of himself no more. He was just going to throw the fork after the withes, when a voice exclaimed: "Franz'seph, what dost?" and Madeleine stood before him.

"I'm idling," returned the other, perversely; but the maiden took his hand, and observed:

Say not so: you wrong yourself." "I who wrongs me? I'm worse than any beggar on God's earth, and will be so! Don't you believe, too, that I am a lazy loon?

"No, God witness me, I do not. Let the folk say what they like,-a dog's bark is worse than his bite, often. I know you better. You cannot yet accustom yourself to our life, after the easy existence of a soldier. I have perceived it in your face these two days past, that you are going to show what you can do this harvest; but, I pray you, do not overwork yourself,--you are unaccus tomed to it now, and one is so easily taken ill, and how one cannot tell."

Touched to the quick, and frightened, Franz' seph gazed upon her. But a few minutes before he had denied this love, in self-destroying caprice, and now her confidence exalted him. He opened