Before an hour to the night had gone,
Into the wood I went;

The pine-tops yet were bright in the light,
Though below it was all but spent.

SECOND SERIES, VOL. II. F.S. VOL. XII.

H

The moon at ten and the dawn at four!'
For this I offered praise;

Though I knew the wood on the hither side,
Knew each of its tortuous ways.

The moon rose redder than any sun,
Through the straight pines it rose;
But glittered on keener eyes than mine,
On the eyes of deadliest foes!

To sudden peril my heart awoke-
And yet it did not quail;

I had skirted Indians in their camp,
And the fiends were upon my trail!

Three stealthy Snakes were upon my track,
Supple and dusk and dread;

A thought of Alice, a prayer to God,
And like wind on my course I sped.

Only in flight, in weariest flight,
Could I my safety find;

But fast or slow, howe'er I might go,
They followed me close behind.

The night wore out and the moon went down,
The sun rose in the sky;

But on and on came the stealthy foes,
Who had made it my doom to die.

With two to follow and one to sleep,

They tracked me through the night;

But one could follow and two could sleep
In the day's increasing light.

So all day under the burning sky,

All night beneath the stars;

And on, when the moon through ranging pines Gleamed white as through prison-bars.

With some to follow and some to halt,

Their course they well might keep;

But I-O God, for a little rest,

For a moment of blessed sleep!

Lost in the heart of the hideous wood,

My desperate way I kept;

For why? They would take me if I stayed,
And murder me if I slept.

But brain will yield and body will drop;
And next when sunset came,

I shrieked delirious at the light,

For I fancied the wood on flame!

I shrieked, I reeled; then venomous eyes
And dusky shapes were there;
And I felt the touch of gleaming steel,
And a hand in my twisted hair.

A cry, a struggle, and down I sank;
But sank not down alone,-

A shot had entered the Indian's heart,
And his body bore down my own!

Yet an Indian gun that shot had fired—
Most timely, Heaven knows!

For I had chanced on a friendly tribe,

Who were watching my stealthy foes.

And they who fired had kindliest hearts:
They gave me nursing care;

And when that my brain knew aught again,
Lo, my Alice, my own, was there!

Dear Alice! But O, the straining woods,
Straining back from the sea;

The woods of pine, and nothing but pine,
They have never an end for me.

The ceaseless line of the red, red pine
My brain to madness sears;

And the roar of trees, like surging seas,
Is a horror in my ears.

WILLIAM SAWYER.

BOB KENNEDY'S WIDOW-HUNT

BY T. H. S. ESCOTT, AUTHOR OF BOB KENNEDY'S CANVASS,' ETC.

66

FRANK, I'm somewhat of a stranger in a strange land. Be my guide, philosopher, and friend-my drawing-room directory-my social who's-who. In plain words, tell me who and what manner of people are here; and if, as you say you must, you have to be off by the ten train to-night, be sharp about it; for it wants only ten minutes of the half-hour, and it's well to avoid creating an impression of unpunctuality at first."

The speaker was Mr. Robert better, perhaps, known to the readers of this periodical as Bob-Kennedy; the scene his dressing-room at Kingscourt, Major Jones Gervase's country place, whither he had just come to spend a week or two of the first month of autumn, and to deal death and destruction to the Kingscourt partridges. The gentleman addressed was Captain Frank Colville, an intimate acquaintance of Bob's, at present the victim of a serious disappointment, or, as he terms it himself, "the very deuce of a sell;" for Captain Colville had just exchanged into the 72d, mainly because his own regiment was ordered on foreign service, and it suited this warrior's convenience better to remain in England. Alas for human calculations! An official letter, which had been following Captain Colville from place to place for about a week, had just arrived, containing peremptory instructions to the effect that Captain Colville should proceed with his regiment on the 5th to Ireland, where he was to serve his country by keeping a vigilant look-out for any symptoms of Hibernian disaffection that might make themselves visible. " Potting Fenians," was the Captain's pithy comment on this mandate, " may be very good fun; but for my part, I prefer partridges just now."

"Nothing particular," was Captain Colville's reply; "the usual business in these places just now. Don't fancy you will know any of the men down here. They are somewhat bucolical in their breeding; short, straight enough, but provincial in character, very. One or two neatish girls though, and a great thing in grass widows. Pretty? Well, so-so. Opulent and substantial? Decidedly. Open to an engagement? Very much so, I should think. Could you make the running with her? My boy, look at yourself in the glass."

"Confound it!" interposed Mr. Kennedy, "my second failure in the way of ties! and that fool Henry has forgotten them."

Captain Colville was a friend in need; he would go round to

his room and provide Bob with the necessary article; which presently made its appearance in the hands of Captain Colville's servant, the gallant gentleman himself having been, for some reason or other, summoned into the drawing-room. Bob Kennedy's toilet being completed, he so far obeyed his friend's injunction as to give a look of considerable complacence at himself in the glass, and to say: "Bob my boy, who knows what may happen to you? Do you not feel a kind of instinct that a career awaits you in the matrimonial way? Nerve yourself, man, for great things; and remember, adventures are to the adventurous.'

"I'll see if I can't manage that you shall take down the widow," whispered Captain Colville to Bob almost immediately he entered the room.

"Name ?" whispered Bob in return; but the Captain was

gone.

"Good fellow that," thought Bob, as he saw his friend immediately afterwards talking to Mrs. Jones Gervase, and then nodding his head in the direction of himself.

"Mr. Kennedy," said his host, just as dinner was announced, 'let me introduce you to a very charming lady, whom perhaps you will escort downstairs.-Mrs. Merton, Mr. Kennedy."

And in a moment more this gentleman found himself duly installed as cavalier of a lady who fully answered to the Major's description, and completely responded to the Captain's; for Mrs. Merton was more than passably pretty, she was absolutely handsome, conspicuously well-bred; and the sombre hue of her black dress served, Bob thought, as an admirable relief to the alabaster white of a pair of faultless shoulders and the snowy glimpses of a perfect bust. Bob was only removed two or three places from Mrs. Jones Gervase; and just as they were sitting down, this lady was obliging enough to present him to his fair companion on his left side Mrs. Merton sat on his right-Mrs. Lester. But Bob had quite enough to do with Mrs. Merton. Indeed, this lady struck our friend as a conclusive testimony to the fact, that the vidua matrona is preferable to the virgo nubilis. She had abundance to say, and she said it well. They had a whole stock of common acquaintances, and she certainly carried her calamity lightly. Indeed, it occurred to Bob, when she supplemented the information that Captain Colville knew her husband well in New Zealand with the subdued ejaculation, just accompanied with the faintest suspicion of a sigh, "Poor dear fellow!" that Mrs. Merton was very far from inconsolable, however sincerely she might mourn her loss. The scenery about Kingscourt, Bob was informed, was exquisite. There were some remarkably fine stalactite caves; and Mrs. Merton, as she vouchsafed her companion this piece of intelligence, contrived to say something about her wish to see them; and then