rears its carved front on the Fifth Avenue, or the mud-chinked cottage that nestles under the magnificent shadow of the Black Dome." "That," said the Tennesseean, "is an unanswerable argumentum ad homminy. Warmed, fed, and rested, what more does a man want in the world? Bless the women! they're a comfortable institution, any where or under any circumstances." kin shavings, prepared corn, maple sugar, and | er their dwelling is the brown-stone palace that sweetmeats-how she bakes, boils, and stewsstriving, with all grace and cheerfulness, to do honor to her husband's guests? Have you marked how tidy she keeps her handsome brood -all clad in home-made of her own weaving, fashioned and patched with her own hand? Or the elder daughter, diligent and meek, how smilingly she skips to do her mother's bidding -to fetch dried apples from the loft-to keep the coffee-pot from boiling over to help off "And," said Bob, "I suppose I must abanwith the big kettle- and between times to lull don the idea of taming my little gazelle. Well, the little ones to sleep, or keep the wakeful out let her run wild; and if her life here is less of mischief? Those who have learned so well brilliant, it will be more natural and poetic. In to perform the duties of daughter, wife, and a year or two she will go to school, and pick up mother, I say, have been well educated, wheth- a little beau, who will help her to build play A WINTER IN THE SOUTH. houses in the rocks, and furnish them with acorn-cups and snail-shells; or make dams across the brook, to turn miniature tub-mills, framed of corn-stalks. The growing friendship will be nourished by presents of bird-eggs and pet squirrels; and when they grow up he will woo her with gay ribbons and store-goods from Jonesborough. Then, of course, they'll get married-build a cabin, hardly after the pattern of this one, and live as their fathers have done." "A pretty little romance," said Jones; "and if, perchance, you should ride this way fifteen or twenty years after, you might see the conclusion of it." Among the visitors at the cabin there was one that particularly attracted Squire Broadacre's attention. This was a comely young matron, whose maiden beauty had not yet entirely succumbed to the hard trials of wedded life. She of all others examined the portraits as they were turned off with the greatest interest and curiosity, and hovered around the busy "That's limner with looks of feverish anxiety. Dorkey alive! Well, it beats all!" Then she would sigh, and half whisper to Mary, "He admires to draw pretty children, does he? Well, I wish- But pshaw, no matter!" She would CIVILIZATION. look up to see if the remark had been noticed, tiest, does he? Well, the child is handsome, and then continue, "He thinks Nancy the pret- but too proud and fierce-like-the very spit of NANCY AND BECKY FOSTER VOL. XVI.-No. 92.-M her father. Dorkey is my favorite, but she is spiled with fat; and Becky's eyes are too wild, for all the world more like a rabbit's than a human's. I'd rather see a face more modest-looking, as it were. Ah me, if I thought he would like it-but no matter." As Mary only laughed and shook her head, and no one else seemed to notice her, the demure little woman presently disappeared from the premises. "Bob," said the Squire, "you should have requested that lady to sit for her portrait; she has been a great beauty, no doubt, and evidently expected the compliment." "Who is she?" asked Bob. "The Widow Foster-Kan's sister-in-law." "Then bring her along." It was too late, the widow had gone home. The day wore on; the meridian was past; dinner over, and still no news of the horses. As the neighbors dropped in one after another, the story of the lost horses was repeated over and over, and the subject discussed in all its bearings. was suggested as the cause for It Foster's delay that there were several branches to the Tumbling Fork, all alike in their general features, and that he might not have found the right one. Then, in their hunger, the horses might have eaten laurel and died; or have been killed by wild beasts; or, in their fear, have broken loose and tumbled over the precipices. Still the confidence in Kan Foster was universal and unlimited, and the strangers were assured GOING TO MILL GOING TO SCHOOL. that "if them horses were livin' Kan would bring them in, and if they were dead he'd bring their skins." "Well, hit's a turrible idee," said Henderson Hensley, emphatically striking the butt of his rifle on the ground, "that of a man or a hoss being out in the Bald last night. Why, hit was cold enough to freeze the har off a bar." This observation having been well received, he continued: "I've hunted some in all these mountains round about; but the Bald is more devilish savager than any of 'em, specially on the Tumbling Fork." Now a gentleman, who had arrived astride of a pacing bull, put in, "If I mought be so bold, did the gentlemen come into these mountains in sarch of minerals or jist from kuriosity ?" "Simply from curiosity," replied the Squire; "to see the highest mountains in the United States." "Well, to be sure, I have hearn say they were the highest mountains in the world; but they're no kuriosity to us folks | all, as I had supposed, but a feeling beautifully here. We see too mighty much of 'em." "But," said the first speaker, "I've heard there was another mountain higher than these here, somewhar in Kaintuck, or p'raps New York, or some furrin place. My darter read it to me outen a book. It was a fire mountain, and they called it Mount Vesy-vyous." "Durn sich a name as that for a mountain. It sounds like gibberish; as if it mought be a strange language, sich as Dutch or English." Here the conversation was interrupted by a messenger from the cabin "I say, mister, the Widow Foster has brung hern for ye to look at." Bob Larkin, to whom this information was addressed, turned his eyes upon the speaker with an expression of listless perplexity, as if awaiting further revelations. The Squire, however, stepped into the house and presently came back, his jolly face suffused with sentiment. natural and true womanly. Don't you think, the poor thing went all the way to her cabin and has lugged her two children full a mile and a half over that steep ridge, on purpose that we might admire them." Larkin followed the Squire into the house, where he saw the widow seated with her ideals beside her. After the strangers entered she modestly cast her looks upon the floor, and only raised her eyes with occasional timorous glances, to see how her babies were appreciated. "Madam, stop-just as you are-don't move an inch! By George, that's beautiful! Hensley! you men get out of the door with your ugly mugs, and let in the light. Hist, little darling, take your finger out of your mouth. There, that will do!" When the sketch was completed the Squire snatched the paper and handed it over to the widow, keeping his eyes fixed upon her as she examined it with tremulous eagerness. "Hain't it like them? the sweet, little, modest-faced things!" The gratified mother could no longer contain herself, and a tear trickled down her cheek as she clasped the little ones in her arms. Now the whole population was out-men, women, children, and dogs all joining in the triumphant clamor. If every individual had gained a horse the rejoicing could not have been more sincere and general. Kan Foster's manly face glowed with triumph as he rode up amidst the loud congratulations and well-merited compliments that were showered upon him from all sides. There was another cheek, too, that warmed with equal pride and pleasure, albeit its owner strove hard to appear unmoved. How could Dame Foster so chide her assistants, the widow and Mary, for neglecting the cooking and listening to the men, when she herself so often paused in her labors, ay, stood up by the chinks in the wall, that her willing ears might drink in the praises bestowed upon her lord. "Now, Foster, my gallant friend, tell us about it all-how you found them, and how you got them out." "Well, gentlemen," replied he, "all I can say is, that we are quite as curious to know how you ever got them down there. It's easier for a horse to go up those steep rocks than down; and that boy and I worked seven mortal hours with axe and hatchet. It was uncertain then HENDERSON HENSLEY. 66 Have "And now, Robert," said Squire Broadacre, in a coaxing tone, one more favor. you noticed a poor little hard-favored child, flitting around us since morning, while no one has paid her the least attention?" "What, that dirty, freckled, snub-nosed, ugly little imp? Uncle, it is too much." "Bob, Bob, I shall be haunted by that forlorn forsaken child, if you don't draw her portrait. Did you never read Hans Anderson's story of the Ugly Duck?" "May the devil fly away with her!" cried Bob. "I'd as soon think of getting sentimental on a corn-cob." As the day waned our friends grew uncontrollably restless, and cast more anxious and frequent glances toward the road which led over the hill. Jones, who had been sleeping the greater part of the day, was now on his feet, and proposed they should take a walk up the creek. As they were about starting, a faint halloo attracted their attention to the hill. There was a man just coming over the ridge on a white horse. "Some one coming to mill," said the Squire. The Tennesseean gave a signal-whoop. The horseman waved his hat, and answered the shout. "By Heavens, it's Kan Foster!" cried Larkin, capering around like a pointer just unchained. THE UGLY DUCK. |