288
��REPOSE.
��dogs, a rustling among the undergrowth and crackling of twigs up where the old pine lay brought another growl and bark from Old Lion, to attract my attention, and the next instant, with long, graceful leaps, his fine head thrown up and his antlers laying back upon his shoulders, a noble buck came headlong down the steep bank, over the fallen trunk, to the edge of the water, and with a single bound landed amid stream not a score of yards from where we were lying.
But a minute he stood, listening to the approach of the hounds, and with quiver- ing nostrils sniffing the coming danger, or with flashing eyes looking up stream and then down as if hesitating which course to pursue; only an instant, and then, as the cry sounded near, with strained limbs and frightened leaps he dashed away and down the river, keep- ing between its banks, and his waving white plume soon disappeared around a huge rock. Hardly had the deer disap- peared beyond the bend of the creek, and the sand and the waves hidden his cau- tious footprints, when the panting hounds broke forth, scenting the trail with head-
��long haste down the hill, and to the last leap into the water. The leader, a splen- did fellow, shook the cooling drops from his coat, for he was over in less time than it takes to tell it, and finding no outgo- ing track, with a short yelp started off, seeking among the wild weeds and the grasses upon the winding bank for the lost scent. As if divining the cunning trick of the deer in keeping the water to baffle pursuit, he traced up stream for a distance and then down upon the oppo- site shore, while the younger and inex- perienced pup flew hither and thither in unmistakable dilemma.
In half an hour or less a fresh outburs t of music from the old dog, away down stream where the loon laughed, an- nounced to his perplexed companion, and to us eager but quiet listeners, that the lost trail was found ; and then again the wild-wood echoed, and hill and valley and mountain glen awoke to the dual cry of the chase, till it died away in the distant forest or was lost among the swamps and swales of " Pondicherry " or the dark undisturbed solitudes beyond "Owl's Head."
��BEPOSE.
��The midnight bell has ceased its toll,
The air breathes no alarm, The hush of silence soothes the soul,
Sweet rest withholds no charm.
Ripples of peace each breathing fans
Across the waves of thought, Until one calm the surface spans — No sweeter rest is sought.
The mists of dreamland hover near,
Ethereal and pure, Bewildering all hope, all fear,
The spirit to allure.
Slowly each fancy drifts away,
Floats on to shores of light, And mingles with each endless ray
'Till lost to dreamy sight.
— E. P. Smyth.
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