and gradually increasing, was now blowing nearly a gale, but intent on securing his prize Sweatland was not in a situation to yield to the dictates of prudence. The deer, which was a vigorous animal of its kind, hoisted its flag of defiance, and breasting the waves stoutly showed that in a race with a log canoe and a single paddle he was not easily outdone.

Sweatland had attained a considerable distance from the shore and encountered a heavy sea before overtaking the animal, but was not apprised of the eminent peril of his situation until shooting past him the deer turned towards the shore. He was however brought to a full appreciation of his danger when, on tacking his frail vessel and heading towards the land, he found that with his utmost exertions he could make no progress in the desired direction, but was continually drifting farther to sea. He had been observed in his outward progress by Mr. Cousins, who had arrived immediately after the hounds, and by his own family, and as he disappeared from sight considerable apprehensions were entertained for his safety.

The alarm was soon given in the neighborhood, and it was decided by those competent to judge that his return would be impossible, and that unless help could be afforded he was doomed to perish at sea. Actuated by those generous impulses that often induce men to peril their own lives to preserve those of others, Messrs. Gilbert, Cousins and Belden took a light boat at the mouth of the creek and proceeded in search of the wanderer, with the determination to make every effort for his relief. They met the deer returning towards the shore nearly exhausted, but the man who was the object of their solicitude was nowhere to be seen. They made stretches off shore within probable range of the fugitive for some hours, until they had gained a distance of five or six miles from land, when meeting with a sea in which they judged it impossible for a canoe to live they abandoned the search, returned with difficulty to the shore, and Sweatland was given up for lost.

The canoe in which he was embarked was dug from a large whitewood log by Major James Brookes, for a fishing boat; it was about fourteen feet in length and rather wide in proportion, and was considered a superior one of the kind. Sweatland still continued to lie off, still heading towards the land, with a faint hope that the wind might abate, or that aid might reach him from the shore. One or two schooners were in sight in course of the day, and he made every signal in his power to attract their attention, but without success. The shore continued in sight, and in tracing its distant outline he could distinguish the spot where his cabin stood, within whose holy precincts were contained the cherished objects of his affections, now doubly endeared from the prospect of losing them forever. As these familiar objects receded from view, and the shores appeared to sink beneath the troubled waters, the last tie which united him in companionship to his

fellow-men seemed dissolved, and the busy world, with all its interests, forever hidden from his sight.

Fortunately Sweatland possessed a coc! head and a stout heart, which, united with a tolerable share of physical strength and power of endurance, eminently qualified him for the part he was to act in this emergency. He was a good sailor, and as such would not yield to despondency until the last expedient had been exhausted. One only expedient remained, that of putting before the wind and endeavoring to reach the Canada shore, a distance of about fifty miles. This he resolved to embrace as his forlorn hope.

It was now blowing a gale, and the sea was evidently increasing as he proceeded from the shore, and yet he was borne onwards over the dizzy waters by a power that no human agency could control. He was obliged to stand erect, moving cautiously from one extremity to the other, in order to trim his vessel to the waves, well aware that a single lost stroke of the paddle, or a tottering movement, would swamp his frail bark and bring his adventure to a final close. Much of his attention was likewise required in bailing his canoe from the water, an operation which he was obliged to perform by making use of his shoes, a substantial pair of stoggies, that happened fortunately to be upon his feet.

Hitherto he had been blessed with the cheerful light of heaven, and amidst all his perils could say, "The light is sweet, and it is a pleasant thing for the eyes to behold the sun," but to add to his distress, the shades of night were now gathering around him, and he was soon enveloped in darkness. The sky was overcast, and the light of a few stars that twinkled through the haze alone remained to guide his path over the dark and troubled waters. In this fearful condition, destitute of food and the necessary clothing, his log canoe was rocked upon the billows during that long and terrible night. When morning appeared he was in sight of land, and found he had made Long Point, on the Canada shore. Here he was met by an adverse wind and a cross sea, but the same providential aid which had guided him thus far still sustained and protected him; and after being buffeted by the winds and waves for nearly thirty hours, he succeeded in reaching the land in safety.

What were the emotions he experienced on treading once more "the green and solid earth,' we shall not attempt to inquire, but his trials were not yet ended. He found himself faint with hunger and exhausted with fatigue, at the distance of forty miles from any human habitation, whilst the country that intervened was a desert filled with marshes and tangled thickets, from which nothing could be obtained to supply his wants. These difficulties, together with the reduced state of his strength, rendered his progress towards the settlements slow and toilsome. On his way he found a quantity of goods, supposed to have been driven on shore from the wreck of some vessel, which, although they afforded

of the husbandman as he looks upon his fields of golden grain, majestic forests, and grassy hills dotted with pasturing kine and gamboling herds, and feels as he looks that the eye of the Great Master is over it all: there, where the dew of morning upon every tender blade and fragile leaf sparkles with His glory.

This is a vain and deceitful world. My mouth watered for a bunch of the old man's grapes, cool and fresh from the vine; so I approached him under the guise of an inquiry about the way to the centre of the village, which I knew perfectly. As I neared him he excited my sympathy, for I discovered he was paralyzed in one arm which hung limp and useless by his side, and there were no grapes left except a few bunches under the roof of the trellis which he could with difficulty reach with the other, and he said in plaintive tones, "The boys came and nearly stripped my arbor when the grapes were not ripe. They did them no good; if they had only waited they should have been welcome to a share with myself." I couldn't help thinking, as I listened to his sorrowful tones, the genus boy is the same everywhere, and then there is something so irresistibly comical in the nature of a boy that the very thought of one often makes me laugh; that is, internally, though at the moment the expression of my countenance may be quite doleful. On my arrival at the centre I found standing the court-house and tavern that I had sketched in the long ago only a little changed; a grove of trees had grown in the court-house yard and a porch had been built on the front of the tavern. They gave me a good dinner therein and then I went for a walk about the village to see the comfort in which the people lived.

The Four Little Maids-On the plank walk on the outskirts I met two little girls. I stopped them and said, Where are you going, my little girls?" and they replied,

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To the primary, sir. And then I inquired of one of them, "How old are you-ten years?" "No, sir, I am nine.' Whereupon the other chimed in "I too am nine.' "That," I remarked, makes eighteen years of little girls. By this time two other of their mates had come up and, pausing, I asked each "How old she was,' and each answered as the others, in the soft, musical tones of childhood, "Nine, sir.' "That,' said I, "makes in all thirty-six years of little girls. I wanted to hold this interesting group, so pointing to an oak near by, the symmetry of which had arrested my eye, I said, "Is not that a beautiful tree? What kind of a tree is it?" when one of them replied, "It is an acorn tree. I thought it quite a pretty name. She had evidently admired acorns and had picked them up, and not knowing the right name of the oak had called it by its fruit. I too admired acornsindeed, had one at that moment in my vest pocket-with its dark, rough reticulated saucer and smooth, light-hued conical cup. Then I said, "I make it a rule when I meet a group of little girls like you to catch the prettiest

one and kiss her." I so spake because I thought it time to bring the conference to a close, and I should have the fun of seeing them scream, laugh and scamper away. Man proposes, God disposes. They didn't scare a bit-stood stock still: one indeed, the prettiest, the one to whom I had first spoken, the one who had called the oak an acorn tree-a plump, rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed little puss she was-advanced and, looking up archly in my face while holding betwixt finger and thumb a blooming gladiole, said, "Will you please accept this, sir?" Could anything be more irresistible? a cherub dropped from the skies inviting a kiss! Can anything that happens up yonder be sweeter than this?

I had no sooner accepted the flower than a second ttle one thrust forward her hand holding a large, golden pippin and said, “Will you please take this, sir?" and I took it. Then a third one did not advance, but in the hollow of her hand lay a small, wee peach, and as she spoke she gently waved her open hand to and fro, while her body waved in unison from right to left, and in a half-shy, deprecating tone said, "I have nothing but this little peach to offer; will you take it, sir?" The fields and gardens around were blooming with flowers and orchards were bending under their burden of many-colored apples and golden, luscious pears, but Jack Frost had lingered too long in the springtime and cruelly nipped the peach blossoms; so I declined the peach, as peaches were scarce, thereby I fear wounding her feelings.

Ere I parted I gave to each my card, whereupon was told who I was and what my errand. And as I did so, I thought long after I had passed away and these little people will be mothers, they will show my book to their offspring with its many pictures of their Ohio land, and stories of pioneer life and later stories of the heroic men who fought for the Union in that dreadful, bloody war of the Rebellion, and point out the portrait of the author and describe this meeting with him when they, too, were young things on their way to the primary;" meeting with him. an old, white-bearded man, by the beautiful oak on the wayside of the village. And then to a question from the children, they may answer: Oh, he has been dead many years, long before you were born; it was in he died."

An Early Acquaintance.-Twenty minutes later I was in the office of the Ashtabula Sentinel, and there met Mr. J. A. Howells, editor. I had seen him but once before; he was then a nine year old boy standing by my side watching me sketch Rossville from the Hamilton side of the Miami river. And when the book was published and he looked upon that picture with the old mill, bridge and river, it was always with a sense of personal ownership-he was in at its birth. And the whole family valued it; and when his brother, the famed novelist, had a family of his own, he wrote from Boston, where he lived, for a copy; for he wanted, he said, his boys to enjoy the book as he had done in his boy days.