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"Nor I either," said Triptolemus, who grew uneasy at the idea of being lost-remembering the story of the lost man, and the bones that were found out here. "If I could have seen Fairfax's stone, I might have had some confidence. How can this little stream make the Blackwater, when it's as white and clear as any water we have seen?"

"Yes, Murad's got it! How can it be, Powell?" "Well, gentlemen, it's no use talking. I am in the right direction. Don't you say so, Conaway?" "Yes, I do."

"Well, that's all," continued Powell, a little miffed for the moment, "that I can do for you. There a'n't any finger boards out here to point out the way. All I can do for you is, to take a general direction right, and I know I must hit the Blackwater somewhere—a mile or two higher up, or lower down."

"But we've been four hours getting here, and have come but four miles, you think; and have four more to go, you say!"

"Well, no man need expect to see the falls of the Blackwater without some sharp walking. A mile or a mile and a half an hour, in a straight linewhich would make two or three, twisting about as we have to go-is about as much as we can make out here. I could have brought you a straighter course-down through the big laurel, you know, Conaway-but if ever you once got into that, we know you would be glad enough to be out again!

-and so we have been trying to head the laurel as much as possible."

"Right, men-you are right," said the Signor. "I am not so entirely certain," responded Adolphus, "but we must abide our fate now."

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"I withdraw what I said, men," observed Peter, it just occurring to him that if the guides should take it into their heads to leave us, we would be in rather a bad way. "I was very much heated just now, and a good deal blown-that's the truth; and the mind, you know, Powell, will take the hue and tone of the feelings. This little rest has put it all right, though."


Handsomely done, and philosophically account

ed for."

"Move on, Powell—it's all right!”

The Signor waved his frying-pan encouragingly, and the Master blew away upon his hand-bugle. With restored spirit, the expedition once more dashed along through the forest. Up started three or four deer from the bushes, and, showing the underside white of their tails as they threw them over their backs, with a leap and a bound they were lost in the forest. Murad ran after them a little way out of the line, and pitching down presently over some rough ground, his lame leg up in the air, he laughed out his "Ugh-uh!" and gave up the chase, saying, as he fell into line again

"They are monstrous swift. How the fury they . get over the rough ground so fast, I can't see!"

"They were born so,” replied old Conway.

"It's a gift to them," said Powell. "Every animal has his gift. It's their protection. The bear climbs, and the deer runs."

The hunters discoursing their lore of the forest, we came down to the edge of some swampy ground, and found ourselves in front of a wide stretch of laurel, tangled and thick everywhere around. To cross it—as it was clear it could not be avoided in any way the hunters looked about for the best place to go in. At length, finding a spot that bid the fairest, they made their way into the brake, and desperately after them we all followed, as best we could. Such pulling and tugging-such twisting, plunging, breaking, crashing, and tearing

"I never remember ever to have heard"

or seen. Here was one held fast by his wallet, and twisting about like an eel to get himself loose; there another who had got upon a huge fallen tree-thus avoiding the laurel by walking along its surface as far as it reached through the swamp; but it was so decomposed, that presently he sank into it up to his arms and he was stuck. Here another who had reached a stream, walking in it as far as in its windings it kept a course that corresponded with our direction. There one grown entirely desperate, and

endeavoring to break his way through by main strength. The hunters took it more knowingly, and would search about for the thinnest places-sometimes going back upon their tracks when they would get into a very thick part of the brake, and trying it another way.

To tell how at last we all did get out, overtaxes any powers of description that I possess. Peter succeeded eventually, and threw himself down on the ground entirely exhausted, murmuring something about the other side of Jordan, and the laurel being a hard road to travel. The Prior came ashore with his big knife open in his hand, having at length, -like Wit in Moore's song-"cut his bright way through." How Triptolemus got through has never

yet been fairly ascertained; but it is believed by the whole expedition that he fell through the most of the way for whenever we had any glimpse of him, his head was down and his feet up. Somehow or other the passage was successfully accomplished; and, after resting sufficiently, we took up the line of march, with a unanimous request of the guides that they would avoid all the laurel that it was possible, by any skill of their woodcraft, to get round.

"And this is the beautiful rhododendron, Adolphus, that you and I have been trying so hard to grow," said the Master.

"I'll pull it all up as soon as I get home," replied Galen spitefully—" if, indeed, I shall ever see that blessed spot again."

"No-I'll now have a thicket of it at the Priory, if it is only that I may be able to demonstrate, when I grow old, the miracles I shall recount of this expedition."

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"A good idea," said the artist. "I'll make a grand national painting of it, and call it 'The Passage of the Laurel.""

"And hang it up by Leutze's 'Passage of the Delaware.""

"Couldn't you put Fairfax's stone somewhere in the picture?" inquired Trip.


'Oh, certainly," returned the Signor, "and draw you, Trip, pitching into it!"

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