III.

At the same moment the rifle sounded, two men, the Trapper with his

pack, and Wild Bill with his sled heavily loaded, were descending the

western slope of the mountain, not a mile from the clearing in which

stood the lonely cabin. The sound of the piece brought them to a halt

as quickly as if the bullet had cut through the air in front of their

faces. For several minutes both stood in the attitude of listening.

"Down into the snow with ye, pups!" exclaimed the Trapper, in a hoarse

whisper. "Down into the snow with ye, I say! Rover, ef ye lift yer

muzzle agin, I'll warm yer back with the ramrod. By the Lord, Bill,

the buck is comin' this way; ye can see his horns lift above the

leetle balsams as he breaks through the thicket yender. Ef he strikes

the runway, he'll sartinly come within range;" and the Old Trapper

slipped his arms from the pack, and, lowering it to the earth, sank on

his knees beside it, where he waited as motionless as if the breath

had departed his body.

Onward came the game. As the Trapper had suggested, the buck, with

mighty and far-reaching bounds, cleared the shrubby obstructions, and,

entering the runway, tore up the familiar path with the violence of a

tornado. Onward he came, his head flung upward, his antlers laid well

back, tongue lolling from his mouth, and his nostrils smoking with the

hot breaths that burst in streaming columns from them. Not until his

swift career had brought him exactly in front of his position did the

old man stir a muscle. But then, quick as the motion of the leaping

game, his rifle jumped to his cheek, and even as the buck was at the

central point of his leap, and suspended in the air, the piece cracked

sharp and clear, and the deer, stricken to his death, fell with a

crash to the ground. The quivering hounds rose to their feet, and

bayed long and deep; Wild Bill swung his hat and yelled; and for a

moment the woods rang with the wild cries of dogs and man.

[Illustration: THE OLD TRAPPER'S SHOT.]

"Lord-a-massy, Bill, what a mouth ye have when ye open it!" exclaimed

the Trapper, as he leisurely poured the powder into the still smoking

barrel. "Atween ye and the pups, it's enough to drive a man crazy. I

should sartinly think ye had never seed a deer shot afore, by the way

ye be actin'."

"I've seen a good many, as you know, John Norton; but I never saw one

tumbled over by a single bullet when at the very top of his jump, as

that one was. I surely thought you had waited too long, and I wouldn't

have given a cent for your chances when you pulled. It was a wonderful

shot, John Norton, and I would take just such another tramp as I have

had, to see you do it again, old man."

"It wasn't bad," returned the Trapper; "no, it sartinly wasn't bad,

for he was goin' as ef the Old Harry was arter him. I shouldn't wonder

ef he had felt the tech of lead down there in the holler, and the

smart of his hurt kept him flyin'. Let's go and look him over, and see

ef we can't find the markin's of the bullit on him."

In a moment the two stood above the dead deer.

"It is as I thought," said the Trapper, as he pointed with his ramrod

to a stain of blood on one of the hams of the buck. "The bullit drove

through his thigh here, but it didn't tech the bone, and was a sheer

waste of lead, fur it only sot him goin' like an arrer. Bill, I

sartinly doubt," continued the old man, as he measured the noble

animal with his eye, "I sartinly doubt ef I ever seed a bigger deer.

There's seven prongs on his horns, and I'd bet a horn of powder agin a

chargerful that he'd weigh three hunderd pounds as he lies. Lord! what

a Christmas gift he'll be fur the woman! The skin will make a blanket

fit fur a queen to sleep under, and the meat, jediciously cared fur,

will last her all winter. We must manage to git it to the edge of the

clearin', anyhow, or the wolves might make free with our venison,

Bill. Yer sled is a strong un, and it'll bear the loadin', ef ye go

keerful."

The Trapper and his companion set themselves to their task with the

energy of men accustomed to surmount every obstacle, and in a short

half-hour the sled, with its double loading, stopped at the door of

the lonely cabin.

"I don't understand this, Wild Bill," said the Trapper. "Here be a

woman's tracks in the snow, and the door be left a leetle ajar, but

there be no smoke in the chimney, and they sartinly ain't very noisy

inside. I'll jest give a knock or two, and see ef they be stirrin';"

and, suiting the action to the word, he knocked long and loud on the

large door. But to his noisy summons there came no response, and

without a moment of farther hesitation he shoved open the door, and

entered.

"God of marcy! Wild Bill," exclaimed the Trapper, "look in here."

A huge room dimly lighted, holes in the roof, here and there a heap of

snow on the floor, an immense fireplace with no fire in it, and a

group of scared, wild-looking children huddled together in the farther

corner, like young and timid animals that had fled in affright from

the nest where they had slept, at some fearful intrusion. That is what

the Trapper saw.

"I"--Whatever Wild Bill was about to say, his astonishment, and, we

may add, his pity, were too profound for him to complete his

ejaculation.

"Don't ye be afeerd, leetle uns," said the Trapper, as he advanced

into the center of the room to survey more fully the wretched place.

"This be Christmas morn, and me and Wild Bill and the pups have come

over the mountain to wish ye all a merry Christmas. But where be yer

mother?" queried the old man, as he looked kindly at the startled

group.

"We don't know where she is," answered the older of the two girls; "we

thought she was in bed with us, till you woke us. We don't know where

she has gone."

"I have it, I have it, Wild Bill!" exclaimed the Trapper, whose eyes

had been busy scanning the place while talking with the children. "The

rifle be gone from the hangin's, and the tracks in the snow be hern.

Yis, yis, I see it all. She went out in hope of gittin' the leetle uns

here somethin' to eat, and that was her rifle we heerd, and her bullit

made that hole in the ham of the buck. What a disapp'intment to the

poor creetur when she seed she hadn't hit him! Her heart eena'most

broke, I dare say. But the Lord was in it--leastwise, He didn't go

agin the proper shapin' of things arterwards. Come, Bill, let's stir

round lively, and git the shanty in shape a leetle, and some vict'als

on the table afore she comes. Yis, git out your axe, and slash into

that dead beech at the corner of the cabin, while I sorter clean up

inside. A fire is the fust thing on sech a mornin' as this; so scurry

round, Bill, and bring in the wood as ef ye was a good deal in

'arnest, and do ye cut to the measure of the fireplace, and don't

waste yer time in shortenin' it, fur the longer the fireplace, the

longer the wood; that is, ef ye want to make it a heater."

His companion obeyed with alacrity; and by the time the Trapper had

cleaned out the snow, and swept down the soot from the sides of the

fireplace, and put things partially to rights, Bill had stacked the

dry logs into the huge opening, nearly to the upper jamb, and, with

the help of some large sheets of birch bark, kindled them to a flame.

"Come here, leetle uns," said the Trapper, as he turned his

good-natured face toward the children,--"come here, and put yer leetle

feet on the h'arthstun, fur it's warmin', and I conceit yer toes be

about freezin'."

It was not in the power of children to withstand the attraction of

such an invitation, extended with such a hearty voice and such

benevolence of feature. The children came promptly forward, and stood

in a row on the great stone, and warmed their little shivering bodies

by the abundant flames.

"Now, leetle folks," said the Trapper, "jest git yerselves well

warmed, then git on what clothes ye've got, and we'll have some

breakfast,--yis, we'll have breakfast ready by the time yer mother

gits back, fur I know where she be gone, and she'll be hungry and cold

when she gits in. I don't conceit that this leetle chap here can help

much, but ye girls be big enough to help a good deal. So, when ye be

warm, do ye put away the bed to the furderest corner, and shove out

the table in front of the fire, and put on the dishes, sech as ye

have, and be smart about it, too, fur yer mother will sartinly be

comin' soon, and we must be ahead of her with the cookin'."

What a change the next half-hour made in the appearance of the cabin!

The huge fire sent its heat to the farthest corner of the great room.

The miserable bed had been removed out of sight, and the table, drawn

up in front of the fire, was set with the needed dishes. On the

hearthstone a large platter of venison steak, broiled by the Trapper's

skill, simmered in the heat. A mighty pile of cakes, brown to a turn,

flanked one side, while a stack of potatoes baked in the ashes

supported the other. The teapot sent forth its refreshing odor through

the room. The children, with their faces washed and hair partially, at

least, combed, ran about with bare feet on the warm floor, comfortable

and happy. To them it was as a beautiful dream. The breakfast was

ready, and the visitors sat waiting for the coming of her to whose

assistance the angel of Christmas Eve had sent them.

"Sh!" whispered the Trapper, whose quick ear had caught the sound of a

dragging step in the snow. "She's comin'!"

Too weary and faint, too sick at heart and exhausted in body to

observe the unaccustomed signs of human presence around her dwelling,

the poor woman dragged herself to the door, and opened it. The gun she

still held in her hand fell rattling to the floor, and, with eyes

wildly opened, she gazed bewildered at the spectacle. The blazing

fire, the set table, the food on the hearthstone, the smiling

children, the two men! She passed her hands across her eyes as one

waking from sleep. Was she dreaming? Was this cabin the miserable hut

she had left at daybreak? Was that the same fireplace in front of

whose cold and cheerless recess she had crouched the night before? And

were those two strangers there men, or were they angels? Was what she

saw real, or was it only a fevered vision born of her weakness?

Her senses actually reeled to and fro, and she trembled for a moment

on the verge of unconsciousness. Indeed, the shock was so overwhelming

that in another instant she would have swooned and fallen to the floor

had not the growing faintness been checked by the sound of a human

voice.

"A merry Christmas to ye, my good woman," said the Trapper. "A merry

Christmas to ye and yourn!"

The woman started as the hearty tones fell on her ear, and, steadying

herself by the door, she said, speaking as one partially dazed:--

"Are you John Norton the Trapper, or are you an ang--"

"Ye needn't sight agin," interrupted the old man. "Yis, I'm old John

Norton himself, nothin' better and nothin' wuss; and the man in the

chair here by my side is Wild Bill, and ye couldn't make an angel out

of him, ef ye tried from now till next Christmas. Yis, my good woman,

I'm John Norton, and this is Wild Bill, and we've come over the

mountain to wish ye a merry Christmas, ye and yer leetle uns, and help

ye keep the day; and, ye see, we've been stirrin' a leetle in yer

absence, and breakfast be waitin'. Wild Bill and me will jest go out

and cut a leetle more wood, while ye warm and wash yerself; and when

ye be ready to eat, ye may call us, and we'll see which can git into

the house fust."

So saying the Trapper, followed by his companion, passed out of the

door, while the poor woman, without a word, moved toward the fire,

and, casting one look at her children, at the table, at the food on

the hearthstone, dropped on her knees by a chair, and buried her face

in her hands.

"I say," said Wild Bill to the Trapper, as he crept softly away from

the door, to which he had returned to shut it more closely, "I say,

John Norton, the woman is on her knees by a chair."

"Very likely, very likely," returned the old man reverently; and then

he began to chop vigorously at a huge log, with his back toward his

comrade.

Perhaps some of you who read this tale will come sometime, when weary

and heart-sick, to something drearier than an empty house, some bleak,

cold day, some lonely morn, and with a starving heart and benumbed

soul,--ay, and empty-handed, too,--enter in only to find it swept and

garnished, and what you most needed and longed for waiting for you.

Then will you, too, drop upon your knees, and cover your face with

your hands, ashamed that you had murmured against the hardness of your

lot, or forgotten the goodness of Him who suffered you to be tried

only that you might more fully appreciate the triumph.

"My good woman," said the Trapper, when the breakfast was eaten,

"we've come, as we said, to spend the day with ye; and accordin' to

custom--and a pleasant un it be fur sartin--we've brought ye some

presents. A good many of them come from him who called on ye as he and

me passed through the lake last fall. I dare say ye remember him, and

he sartinly has remembered ye. Fur last evenin', when I was makin' up

a leetle pack to bring ye myself,--fur I conceited I had better come

over and spend the day with ye,--Wild Bill came to my door with a box

on his sled that the boy had sent in from his home in the city; and in

the box he had put a great many presents fur him and me; and in the

lower half of the box he had put a good many presents fur ye and yer

leetle uns, and we've brought them all over with us. Some of the

things be fur eatin' and some of them be fur wearin'; and that there

may be no misunderstandin', I would say that all the things that be in

the pack-basket there, and all the things that be on the sled, too,

belong to ye. And as I see the wood-pile isn't a very big un fur this

time of the year, Bill and me be goin' out to settle our breakfast a

leetle with the axes. And while we be gone, I conceit ye had better

rummage the things over, and them that be good fur eatin' ye had

better put in the cupboard, and them that be good fur wearin' ye had

better put on yerself and yer leetle uns; and then we'll all be ready

to make a fair start. Fur this be Christmas Day, and we be goin' to

keep it as it orter be kept. Ef we've had sorrers, we'll forgit 'em;

and we'll laugh, and eat, and be merry. Fur this be Christmas, my good

woman! children, this be Christmas! Wild Bill, my boy, this be

Christmas; and, pups, this be Christmas! And we'll all laugh, and eat,

and be merry."

The joyfulness of the old man was contagious. His happiness flowed

over as waters flow over the rim of a fountain. Wild Bill laughed as

he seized his axe, the woman rose from the table smiling, the girls

giggled, the little boy stamped, and the hounds, catching the spirit

of their merry master, swung their tails round, and bayed in canine

gladness; and amid the joyful uproar the Old Trapper spun himself out

of the door, and chased Wild Bill through the snow like a boy.

The dinner was to be served at two o'clock; and what a dinner it was,

and what preparations preceded! The snow had been shoveled from around

the cabin, the holes in the roof roughly but effectually thatched. A

good pile of wood was stacked in front of the doorway. The spring that

bubbled from the bank had been cleared of ice, and a protection

constructed over it. The huge buck had been dressed, and hung high

above the reach of wolves. Cedar and balsam branches had been placed

in the corners and along the sides of the room. Great sprays of the

tasseled pine and the feathery tamarack were suspended from the

ceiling. The table had been enlarged, and extra seats extemporized.

The long-unused oven had been cleaned out, and under its vast dome the

red flames flashed and rolled upward. What a change a few hours had

brought to that lonely cabin and its wretched inmates! The woman,

dressed in her new garments, her hair smoothly combed, her face

lighted with smiles, looked positively comely. The girls, happy in

their fine clothes and marvelous toys, danced round the room, wild

with delight; while the little boy strutted about the floor in his new

boots, proudly showing them to each person for the hundredth time.

The hostess's attention was equally divided between the temperature of

the oven and the adornment of the table. A snow-white sheet, one of a

dozen she had found in the box, was drafted peremptorily into service,

and did duty as a tablecloth. Oh, the innocent and funny makeshifts of

poverty, and the goodly distance it can make a little go! Perhaps some

of us, as we stand in our rich dining rooms, and gaze with pride at

the silver, the gold, the cut glass, and the transparent china, can

recall a little kitchen in a homely house far away, where our good

mothers once set their tables for their guests, and what a brave show

the few extra dishes made when they brought them out on the rare

festive days.

However it might strike you, fair reader, to the poor woman and her

guests there was nothing incongruous in a sheet serving as a

tablecloth. Was it not white and clean and properly shaped, and would

it not have been a tablecloth if it hadn't been a sheet? How very

nice and particular some people can be over the trifling matter of a

name! And this sheet had no right to be a sheet, since any one with

half an eye could see at a glance that it was predestined from the

first to be a tablecloth, for it sat as smoothly on the wooden surface

as pious looks on a deacon's face, while the easy and nonchalant way

it draped itself at the corners was perfectly jaunty.

The edges of this square of white sheeting that had thus

providentially found its true and predestined use were ornamented with

the leaves of the wild myrtle, stitched on in the form of scallops. In

the center, with a brave show of artistic skill, were the words,

"Merry Christmas," prettily worked with the small brown cones of the

pines. This, the joint product of Wild Bill's industry and the woman's

taste, commanded the enthusiastic admiration of all; and even the

little boy, from the height of a chair into which he had climbed, was

profoundly affected by the show it made.

The Trapper had charge of the meat department, and it is safe to say

that no Delmonico could undertake to serve venison in greater variety

than did he. To him it was a grand occasion, and--in a culinary

sense--he rose grandly to meet it. What bosom is without its little

vanities? and shall we laugh at the dear old man because he looked

upon the opportunity before him with feeling other than pure

benevolence,--even of complacency that what he was doing was being

done as no one else could do it?

There was venison roasted, and venison broiled, and venison fried;

there was hashed venison, and venison spitted; there was a side-dish

of venison sausage, strong with the odor of sage, and slightly dashed

with wild thyme; and a huge kettle of soup, on whose rich creamy

surface pieces of bread and here and there a slice of potato floated.

"I tell ye, Bill," said the Trapper to his companion, as he stirred

the soup with a long ladle, "this pot isn't act'ally runnin' over with

taters, but ye can see a bit occasionally ef ye look sharp and keep

the ladle goin' round pretty lively. No, the taters ain't over

plenty," continued the old man, peering into the pot, and sinking his

voice to a whisper, "but there wasn't but fifteen in the bag, and the

woman took twelve of 'em fur her kittle, and ye can't make three

taters look act'ally crowded in two gallons of soup, can ye, Bill?"

And the old man punched that personage in the ribs with the thumb of

the hand that was free from service, while he kept the ladle going

with the other.

"Lord!" exclaimed the Trapper, speaking to Bill, who, having taken a

look into the old man's kettle, was digging his knuckles into his eyes

to free them from the spray that was jetted into them from the

fountains of mirth within that were now in full play,--"Lord! ef there

isn't another piece of tater gone all to pieces! Bill, ef I make

another circle with this ladle, there won't be a whole slice left, and

ye'll swear there wasn't a tater in the soup." And the two men, with

their faces within twenty inches, laughed and laughed like boys.

How sweet it is to think that when the Maker set up this strange

instrument we call ourselves, and strung it for service, He selected

of the heavy chords so few, and of the lighter ones so many! Some

muffled ones there are; some slow and solemn sounds swell sadly forth

at intervals, but blessed be God that we are so easily tickled, and

the world is so funny that within it, even when exiled from home and

friends, we find, as the days come and go, the causes and occasions of

hilarity!

Wild Bill had been placed in charge of the liquids. What a satire

there is in circumstances, and how those of to-day laugh at those of

yesterday! Yes, Wild Bill had charge of the liquids,--no mean charge,

when the occasion is considered. Nor was the position without its

embarrassments, as few honorable positions are, for it brought him

face to face with the problem of the day--dishes; for, between the two

cooks of the occasion, every dish in the cabin had been brought into

requisition, and poor Bill was left in the predicament of having to

make tea and coffee with no pots to make them in.

But Bill was not lacking in wit, if he was in pots, and he solved the

conundrum how to make tea without a teapot in a manner that extorted

the woman's laughter, and commanded the Old Trapper's admiration.

In ransacking the lofts above the apartment, he had lighted on several

large stone jugs, which, with the courage--shall we call it the

audacity?--of genius, he had seized upon; and, having thoroughly

rinsed them, and freed them from certain odors,--with which we are

free to say Bill was more or less familiar,--he brought them forward

as substitutes for kettle and pot. Indeed, they worked admirably, for

in them the berry and the leaves might not only be properly steeped,

but the flavor could be retained beyond what it might in many of our

famous and high-sounding patented articles.

But Bill, while ingenious and courageous to the last degree, was

lacking in education, especially in scientific directions. He had

never been made acquainted with that great promoter of modern

civilization--the expansive properties of steam. The corks he had

whittled out for his bravely extemporized tea and coffee pots were of

the closest fit; and, as they had been inserted with the energy of a

man who, having conquered a serious difficulty, is determined to reap

the full benefit of his triumph, there was at least no danger that the

flavor of the concoctions would escape through any leakage at the

muzzle. Having thus prepared them for steeping, he placed the jugs in

his corner of the fireplace, and pushed them well up through the ashes

to the live coals.

"Wild Bill," said the Trapper, who wished to give his companion the

needed warning in as delicate and easy a manner as possible, "Wild

Bill, ye have sartinly got the right idee techin' the makin' of tea

and coffee, fur the yarb should be steeped, and the berry,

too,--leastwise, arter it's biled up once or twice,--and therefore it

be only reasonable that the nozzles should be closed moderately tight;

but a man wants considerable experience in the business, or he's

likely to overdo it jest a leetle, and ef ye don't cut some slots in

them wooden corks ye've driven into them nozzles, Bill, there'll be a

good deal of tea and coffee floatin' round in yer corner of the

fireplace afore many minits, and I conceit there'll be a man about yer

size lookin' fur a couple of corks and pieces of jugs out there in the

clearin', too."

"Do you think so?" answered Bill, incredulously. "Don't you be scared,

old man, but keep on stirring your soup and turning the meat, and I'll

keep my eye on the bottles."

"That's right, Bill," returned the Trapper; "ye keep yer eye right on

'em, specially on that un that's furderest in toward the butt of the

beech log there; fur ef there's any vartue in signs, that jug be

gittin' oneasy. Yis," continued the old man, after a minute's pause,

during which his eye hadn't left the jug, "yis, that jug will want

more room afore many minits, ef I'm any jedge, and I conceit I had

better give it the biggest part of the fireplace;" and the Trapper

hastily moved the soup and his half-dozen plates of cooked meats to

the other end of the hearthstone, whither he retired himself, like one

who, feeling that he is called upon to contend with unknown forces,

wisely beats a retreat. He even put himself behind a stack of wood

that lay piled up in his corner, like one who does not despise, in a

sudden emergency, an artificial protection.

"Bill," called the Trapper, "edge round a leetle,--edge round, and git

in closer to the jamb. It's sheer foolishness standin' where ye be,

fur the water will be wallopin' in a minit, and ef the corks be

swelled in the nozzle, there'll be an explosion. Git in toward the

jamb, and watch the ambushment under kiver."

"Old man," answered Bill, as he turned his back carelessly toward the

fireplace, "I've got the bearin's of this trail, and know what I'm

about. The jugs are as strong as iron kittles, and I ain't afraid of

their bust--"

Bill never finished the sentence, for the explosion predicted by the

Trapper occurred. It was a tremendous one, and the huge fireplace was

filled with flying brands, ashes, and clouds of steam. The Trapper

ducked his head, the woman screamed, and the hounds rushed howling to

the farthest end of the room; while Bill, with half a somersault,

disappeared under the table.

"Hurrah!" shouted the Trapper, lifting his head from behind the wood,

and critically surveying the scene. "Hurrah, Bill!" he shouted, as he

swung the ladle over his head. "Come out from under the table, and man

yer battery agin. Yer old mortars was loaded to the muzzle, and ef ye

had depressed the pieces a leetle, ye'd 'a' blowed the cabin to

splinters; as it was, the chimney got the biggest part of the

chargin', and ye'll find yer rammers on the other side of the

mountain."

It was, in truth, a scene of uproarious hilarity; for once the

explosion was over, and the woman and children saw there was no

danger, and apprehended the character of the performance, they joined

unrestrainedly in the Trapper's laughter, in which they were assisted

by Wild Bill, as if he were not the victim of his own over-confidence.

"I say, Old Trapper," he called from under the table, "did both guns

go off? I was getting under cover when the battery opened, and didn't

notice whether the firing was in sections or along the whole line. If

there's a piece left, I think I will stay where I am; for I am in a

good position to observe the range, and watch the effect of the shot.

I say, hadn't you better get behind the wood-pile again?"

"No, no," interrupted the Trapper; "the whole battery went at the

word, Bill, and there isn't a gun or a gun-carriage left in the

casement. Ye've wasted a gill of the yarb, and a quarter of a pound of

the berry; and ye must hurry up with another outfit of bottles, or

we'll have nothin' but water to drink at the dinner."

The dinner! That great event of the day, the crown and diadem to its

royalty, and which became it so well, was ready promptly to the hour.

The table, enlarged as it was to nearly double its original

dimensions, could scarcely accommodate the abundance of the feast. Ah,

if some sweet power would only enlarge our hearts when, on festive

days, we enlarge our tables, how many of the world's poor, that now go

hungry while we feast, would then be fed!

At one end of the table sat the Trapper, Wild Bill at the other. The

woman's chair was at the center of one of the sides, so that she sat

facing the fire, whose generous flames might well symbolize the

abundance which amid cold and hunger had so suddenly come to her. On

her right hand the two girls sat; on her left, the boy. A goodly

table, a goodly fire, and a goodly company,--what more could the Angel

of Christmas ask to see?

Thus were they seated, ready to begin the repast; but the plates

remained untouched, and the happy noises which had to that moment

filled the cabin ceased; for the Angel of Silence, with noiseless

step, had suddenly entered the room. There's a silence of grief,

there's a silence of hatred, there's a silence of dread; of these, men

may speak, and these they can describe. But the silence of our

happiness, who can describe that? When the heart is full, when the

long longing is suddenly met, when love gives to love abundantly, when

the soul lacketh nothing and is content,--then language is useless,

and the Angel of Silence becomes our only adequate interpreter. A

humble table, surely, and humble folk around it; but not in the houses

of the rich or the palaces of kings does gratitude find her only home,

but in more lowly abodes and with lowly folk--ay, and often at the

scant table, too,--she sitteth a perpetual guest. Was it memory? Did

the Trapper at that brief moment visit his absent friend? Did Wild

Bill recall his wayward past? Were the thoughts of the woman busy with

sweet scenes of earlier days? And did memory, by thus reminding them

of the absent and the past, of the sweet things that had been and

were, stir within their hearts thoughts of Him from whom all gifts

descend, and of His blessed Son, in whose honor the day was named?

O Memory! thou tuneful bell that ringeth on forever, friend at our

feasts, and friend, too, let us call thee, at our burial, what music

can equal thine? For in thy mystic globe all tunes abide,--the

birthday note for kings, the marriage peal, the funeral knell, the

gleeful jingle of merry mirth, and those sweet chimes that float our

thoughts, like fragrant ships upon a fragrant sea, toward heaven,--all

are thine! Ring on, thou tuneful bell; ring on, while these glad ears

may drink thy melody; and when thy chimes are heard by me no more,

ring loud and clear above my grave that peal which echoes to the

heavens, and tells the world of immortality, that they who come to

mourn may check their tears and say, "_Why do we weep? He liveth

still!_"

"The Lord be praised fur His goodness!" said the Trapper, whose

thoughts unconsciously broke into speech. "The Lord be praised fur His

goodness, and make us grateful fur His past marcies, and the plenty

that be here!" And looking down upon the viands spread before him he

added, "The Lord be good to the boy, and make him as happy in his city

home as be they who be wearin' and eatin' his gifts in the woods!"

"Amen!" said the woman softly, and a grateful tear fell on her plate.

"A--hem!" said Wild Bill; and then looking down upon his warm suit, he

lifted his voice, and, bringing it out in a clear, strong tone, said,

"_Amen! hit or miss!_"

At many a table that day more formal grace was said, by priest and

layman alike, and at many a table, by lips of old and young, response

was given to the benediction; but we doubt if over all the earth a

more honest grace was said or more honestly assented to than the Lord

heard from the cabin in the woods.

The feast and the merrymaking now began. The Old Trapper was in his

best mood, and fairly bubbled over with humor. The wit of Wild Bill

was naturally keen, and it flashed at its best as he ate. The children

stuffed and laughed as only children on such an elastic occasion can.

And as for the poor woman, it was impossible for her, in the midst of

such a scene, to be otherwise than happy, and she joined modestly in

the conversation, and laughed heartily at the witty sallies.

But why should we strive to put on paper the wise, the funny, and the

pleasant things that were said, the exclamations, the laughter, the

story, the joke, the verbal thrust and parry of such an occasion?

These, springing from the center of the circumstance, and flashed into

being at the instant, cannot be preserved for after-rehearsal. Like

the effervescence of champagne, they jet and are gone; their force

passes away with the noise that accompanied its out-coming.

Is it not enough to record that the dinner was a success, that the

Trapper's meats were put upon the table in a manner worthy of his

reputation, that the woman's efforts at pastry-making were generously

applauded, and that Wild Bill's tea and coffee were pronounced by the

hostess the best she had ever tasted? Perhaps no meal was ever more

enjoyed, as certainly none was ever more heartily eaten.

The wonder and pride of the table was the pudding,--a creation of

Indian meal, flour, suet, and raisins, re-enforced and assisted by

innumerable spicy elements supposed to be too mysterious to be grasped

by the masculine mind. In the production of this wonderful

centerpiece,--for it had been unanimously voted the place of

honor,--the poor woman had summoned all the latent resources of her

skill, and in reference to it her pride and fear contended, while the

anxiety with which she rose to serve it was only too plainly depicted

on her countenance. What if it should prove a failure? What if she had

made a miscalculation as to the amount of suet required,--a point upon

which she had been somewhat confused? What if the raisins were not

sufficiently distributed? What if it wasn't done through, and should

turn out pasty? Great Heavens! The last thought was of so overwhelming

a character that no feminine courage could encounter it. Who may

describe the look with which she watched the Trapper as he tasted it,

or the expression of relief which brightened her anxious face when he

pronounced warmly in its favor?

"It's a wonderful bit of cookin'," he said, addressing himself to Wild

Bill, "and I sartinly doubt ef there be anythin' in the settlements

to-day that can equal it. There be jest enough of the suet, and there

be a plum for every mouthful; and it be solid enough to stay in the

mouth ontil ye've had time to chew it, and git a taste of the

corn,--and I wouldn't give a cent for a puddin' ef it gits away from

yer teeth fast. Yis, it be a wonderful bit of cookin'," and, turning

to the woman, he added, "ye may well be proud of it."

What higher praise could be bestowed? And as it was re-echoed by all

present, and plate after plate was passed for a second filling, the

dinner came to an end with the greatest good feeling and hilarity.