bearing right down on us. Pull, pull away my brave fellow." He did pull, and so did I, and we flew over the surface. The other boat had been compelled to lay-to a moment to mend an oar, which had given us the advantage, but it was now again sent with no stinted strokes down the lake. At length I could see the head and antlers of the noble buck, as with dilated nostrils and terror-stricken glance, he swam and doubled on his pursuers. "Hold," I exclaimed, as he glanced away towards the shore. The boat fell into the trough of the waves just as I raised my rifle to my shoulder, and the little cockle-shell rocked so like mad on the water, and my frame was quivering so with the exhausting effort of the last few minutes, that the muzzle of my piece described all sorts of mathematical diagrams around the head of the deer, as I endeavored to make it bear for a single second upon it. I could not shoot-but "fire! fire!" shouted Mitchell, and "fire" it was. The bullet struck just under his throat, throwing the water over his head, while he made a desperate spring and pulled for the shore. Shame on me, but I might as well have shot on horseback under a full gallop.

At that moment the other boat flew like a spirit

past, and crack went the rifle of W-d. He missed, and again our skiff was rapidly dividing the waves before her, while in scarcely more time than I have been relating it, another ball was in my gun, and I exclaimed, "Now, Mitchell, as we approach him, throw the head of the boat on the waves so the motion shall be steady, and if I miss him I will fling my. rifle into the lake." As we came up, a single stroke of the oar sent her round, and as she rose and fell on the short sea, I "watched my time" and pulled. A desperate plunge and a bloody streak upon the water, told that the bullet had found the life-blood. Struggle on, bold fellow, but your life is reached, and never again shall your foot press the mountain-side! Just then another shot struck the water close by our boat, glanced, and also entered the deer. He bowed his antlered head in the waves, and turned over on his side, while the short, convulsive efforts told of his death agony. A few strokes of the oar, and our boat lay alongside-the knife of the Indian entered his throat, and the deed was done. I raised him by the horns, and towed him slowly along toward the shore. The excitement

of the chase was over, and as I gazed on the wild, yet mild and gentle eye of the noble creature, now glazing in death, a feeling of remorse arose in my heart. I could have moralized an hour over the beautiful form as it floated on the water. The velvet antlers (they are now in their velvet) gave a more harmless aspect to the head than the stubborn horn, and I almost wished to recall him to life. It seemed impossible that, a few minutes before, that delicate limbed creature was treading in all the joy of freedom his forest home. How wild had been his terror, as the fierce cry of the hound first opened on his track! -how swift the race down the mountain side, and how free and daring his plunge from the rock into the wave! How noble his struggles for life. But the bold swimmer had been environed by foes too strong for him, and he fell at last, where he could not even turn at bay. The delicate nostril was relaxed in death, and the slender limbs stiff and cold.

I was awakened from my moralizing by Mitchell, who that moment ceased rowing and gave a call. The gallant white hound had followed the track of the deer to the water, where he stoo. perplexed and

anxious till the first rifle shot fell over the lake. He then plunged in, and had ever since been swimming after us in the chase. We lay-to, and took the noble fellow in and then pulled for shore

A MAGNIFICENT PROSPECT-FOURTEEN HOURS WITHOUT

FOOD.

OWL'S HEAD, August 5

DEAR H

HAVE you ever been on the summit of the Righi, in Switzerland? It is said to command the finest view in that land of magnificent prospects. I once stood on its top, and saw the sun come up in his glory, till forests, lakes, rivers, and villages sprang into life and beauty, and the whole range of the Bernese Alps, from Sentis to the Jungfrau, glittered in red and gold, while the vast snow fields slept in deep shadow between.

My eye never opened on a more glorious panorama, and I stood amid its surpassing beauties in silent amazement. The view, it is said, embraces a tract of country three hundred miles in circumference, with eleven lakes in sight from the summit, though I never