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All transitory advertisements, from stranger 'or irregular customers. mu's't be paid for when Ind ed in for inser'ion. 1nd dispatched to subscribers by the earliest m'eile. or other conveyance, when so desired. The Yank HEiiA‘Lfi will always be found to contain tlfeletest and most importhn't I“oreign arid Prov’incial NeWe and Market's, end the greatest cnré will be taken‘ t'o render it ac- ceptable to tlle m'in' ofbusinesfi. and a valu- . dbl'a Family Néwspaper. ‘ _ TERMS:â€"One Dollar p’er annum. in AD. N6 pap'e‘r dis‘é‘bnlimied until an drrenrugas ire ptid : and panties refusing pipers without [Saying up; will lie held accountable for the lubscriptidn. JOHN M. REID, M. D., 908a 9F YONGE AND CDLBURNE STSJ ’I'HORNHILL. gifidfi-LLover the Gas Company ofiée orouto Street, Toronto. Toronto. August 1, 1867. Coh‘fiulta’fions in‘ {He office on the morilinga of Tuesdm’s. Thulsdaya and Snturduyl. 8 to 10,1. :1). ETA“ consultations in the office. Caih. TERMS :â€"dne Do-Illayr [fer annum. iii Ab. i'uu: if n‘bi paid within Two Months"; One Dollar and Fifty cents will be chargea. Alllefiers iddreésbd to this EflitBr must be anal-paid. F’ -' N - B 1-, AF; E, BARRIS’X‘ER AT LAW, M. TE E FY,‘ Esq-,9 NOTARY PUBLIC; COMMISSIONER IN THE QUEEN'S BENCH, CONVEYANCER. AND DIVISION COURT AGENT, Sii lines and under. first insertion . . . .$00 50 Each subsequeng insertion..._. . . . . . . . . 0U 13 Ton linen and under. first insertion. . .' . 00 75 Each subsequent insertion.,. .‘~. 3;. . . . :‘s. 00 20 A‘b‘ove ton lines, first insertion. pe‘r “lie. ()0 07 Rich subsequent insertion. poifi line. . . . 00 02 Urie Column per twelve months. . s n. - 50 00 Half a' column do do . i -. . . . . 30 00 Quarter of a column per t‘vi‘elvb months. 20 00 One dolumn 1 six moirlhs.... . . . .. . 40 00 Hnlfnéolhml do ........... 2500 Quarter of a column por six months. . . . [8 00 A card of t'on lines, for one year. . . . . . 4 00 A card of fifteen lines. do . . . .... 5 ‘25 A card oftwenty lines, do . . . . . . . 6 50 ITAdvertisomenls without written directions alerted till forbid. and charged accordingly rnmms mm, m. LICENSED AUCTIONEER, R E A D & B O Y D: Barristers, Attoryeys at I.an Solicitors in Chaficery,&c., R. HOSTETTER’S numerous friends wlll please accept hIB sincer‘e thanks for hair liberal patronage and prompt. payment. ind would announce that he will continue to devote the whole of his attention t6 the prac- tice of Medicme. Surgery and Midwi'éry. All calls. (night or day,) promplly attended to. ILL generally be found at home befbra half-past 8 a.m and from 1 to 2 p.m. All parties owing Dr. J. Langstafi'are expect- gd to call and pay promptly. as he has pay- ments now that must be met. ' , Mr. Wm Jenkinl in autho‘risad to colfeét,and give receipts for him. Richmond Hill, June. i365 l ‘ J doxint‘y of York. I Saleé aéiénded on the :{h'ortest notice at moderate rates. Ad&rcs§, Buttonviflcfz 77. King Street East, (over Thom pson'a East India House) Toronto. D‘B. READ, Q.C. 1 J.A. BOYD BA May 7,1886. 40-“ RICHMOND HILL POST OFFICE. GREEMENTS, Bonds, Deeds, MOrtgages. Wills, &c, &c., drawn with attention 1nd promptitude. Terms modsrate. Richmond Hill, June 9. IBM. 1 A“ advertisements published for a less period than one month, must be paid for in advance. Markham, Jany 24', 1868; Elgiu Mills, October 5. 1856 BABHISTEH,‘ Atimney-atâ€"Law. OFFICEâ€"In the “York Herald ” Buildings, Richmond Hill. Money to Lend. ,' uly, 5th, 1866. 6-1y DR. JAS. LANGSTAFF, I “ Solicitor in Chancery,_ CONVEYANCER, &c, &e., &c M‘NAB, MURRAY & JACKES, Barristers & Attorneys-atâ€"Law Solicitors in Chancery, CONVEYANCERS, 85c. OFFICEâ€" In the Court House, . .TORONTO August 1, 1866. 59 FAVE TRBUEHS. WATER SPRUTS, CISTRENS AND PUMPS 1 Manufactured and for Sale Flooring and other lumber dressed. F'eHOWS lawn and shi‘ngt‘es for sale by John“I.-angstafi EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, Carriage and Waggon MAKER. UNDERTAKER &c. &c. &c. Residence-Nearly opposite the Post Office Ht-Lenond mu, Thomhill, June 9, 1865 ‘RATES OF ADVERTISING. ifiuaiucas mxctmm. 11m mark firmln THOMAS SEDMAN, GEO. B. NICOL, STEAM MILLS. Tuouumu. LAW CARDS. IS PUBLISHED FOR THE i9“? NEW SERIES. 1 OMLthn public genergll', that he had opened an HOTEL ili'the Vilhgo of Mapla. 4th Con. Vaughan. where he hopes, b'y atten- tion to the comforts of (he trdfi'élfing commu- nity. to merit: share of their patronage 3nd =upport. Good Stabling. &c . DAVID EYER, Jun., Siave & Shingle Manufacturer ESIDENCEâ€"Lot 26. 2nd Co'nEMarkham on the Elgiu Mills Plank Ron . Alurge Stock ofS‘EA‘VES am'rl SHmaLIB. kept constamly on handmnd sold uf the lewest Prices I? Call and exam‘iu'a Stock before purch‘u- iu elsewhere. _ ‘ $031 Om'ce Addée‘u‘sâ€"amehmond Hm. June 1865 1-1! uuqu _I n l , AnY Onmibus l'eafiés {his Hotel for Toronto athaIf-pasa seven a.m. daily. Maple. Jan [866. LAdiesis and Gen‘uemen, who réq'uiré a true char’E of the foot, can procure one in either French Kid m- Calf, by calling and ordering it at T. DOL‘MAGE’S; Richmond Hill, April 4,‘ 1'86"_?_. ‘ {Iv JpHN CARTER. F LICENSED AUCTIONEER GEO. MCPHILLIPS§~ SON Provincial Land Surveyors, HE SUBSCRIBER announces to the _ travelling community. (ha. he has leas- ed the above Hotel on Richmond hill, and will fievote his attention to the comfort and convenience of those who may favor him with” their patronage. The best Stabbling and Driving Shed on Yonge St. The best Brands of Wines, Liquurs and Cigars kept constantly on hand. A: careful Hostler always in attend- uu‘cfi EGS to inform the Famels in the neighbor hood of Richmond HI“, that he has leased the above Mills. and has put them in thorough repair, and will be glad to receive a share of the galronago of the public. LEMON’S HOTEL ! THE 0L0 HOTEL, "fizhe highest market pricis givou for Cattle. Sheep. Lambs. &c. n Richmond Hm, October 15. 186;. Ly THORNHILL. HENRY HERON, Proprietor. The best of Wines, hiquog‘s and Cigars will be found at the bar. Comfortable accommoda- tion for travellers. A careful Hosllor always‘ in attendance. Thornhill, July 4, 1857. 1y HE Subscriber begs to inform the Public- that he has leased the above Hotel. Where he willkeep constantly on hand a good supply of first-class Liquors. &c. As this house possesses every accommodation Tra- vellers can desire. those who wish lostay where they can find everycomfortnre respectfullyiu- vital! to give him a. can. GRISTING AND CHOPPING, WILLIAM COX, 2nd door north of Barnardfs store.‘ ' EEPS always on hand the best of Beef. 'Muuon. Lamb. Veal, Pork, Sausages. &c. and Sells at the_lowes} pricps. DANIEL HORNER, Jun, Lot'QO. 2nd cuceossion Markham Done on the shortest notice. I. iifl'The highest market price paTd' for NOTICE To FARMERS. RiCHMOND HILL MILLS. GEO. H. AfiPELBY W] t. ,. .z , 7' Ricmond um. Nov. 14. 1867. MALLOY’S AXES GIDEON DOLMAGE. Proprietor, Richmond Hill. Dec. 1865. ‘ 28.“ Kept. on hand. SAWING done promptly; fist) DOLMAGE’S HOTEL, Planed Lumber, Flooring, m}- Lumber Ton gued & Groved A! tlie loWest possible rates. Saw Mill on lot 25, 2nd, Cori. Markham. 21' millos eastof Richmond Hlll by |he Plank Road Richmond Hill. June ‘28; 1835‘. 4'-1y OR the Counties of York. Peel am]. On- tario. Residence '. L018, 5th concession Markham. Post‘- OfliCeâ€"Union'vil‘le. Sale’s attended on the shorte'sf names“ and on reasonable terms. PLANEING To ORDER, Orders left at the “ Herald" ’ofifoe for Mr Carter‘s services will be promp .ly att‘ended to June, 27. 1857. LUMBERINGâ€" ABRAHAM EYER SEAFORTH. C. W. June 7, 1865. GEORGE LEMON Richmond Hill. Dec. 4. 18M. 490-Iy Vol. VIII. N0. 3'8. EGS respecfinlly to inform his customers ‘ and the public that he in preparud to do In any quantity. and on short notice. a 16 Hotel! E [1' sé'ribe‘F ABM?! (6 f-‘ffifimimé ‘mbtmfi RICHMOND HIL‘L, RICHMOND HILL. LATE VAN NOSTR‘AND'S, Successor to James Holliday, RICHMOND’HILL A'ND YONGE ST; GENERAL ADVERTISER.» PHYSIOLOGY; (LATE MYMOND’S) BUTCHER, FOR SALE BY RICHARD VAILESQ 39- I y Torn Cooper was a fine specimen of the North American trapper. Slightly but powerfully made, with a hardy, weather-beaten. vet hand- some face. strong indefatigable, and a crack shot, \he was admir- ably adapted for a hunter’s lile. For many years he knew not what it was to have a home. but lived like the beasts he huntedâ€"wan- dering from one part of the coun- try to another in pursuit of game. All who knew Tom were much surprised when he came with a pretty young wife, to settle within three miles of a’ p’lan‘ter’s larm. Many pitied the poor young crea- ture, who wOuld have to lead such a solitary life ; whilst others said : tlf she-was foo‘l enough to marry him. it was her own look-out. For hearley"_1vou_r months Tomiâ€"remained. at home, and employed his time in making the old but he had fixed on for their residence more com- fortable. He cleared and tilled a small spot of land and around it, and Susan began to hope that for her sake he“ would settle down quietly as a squatter. But these visions of happiness were Soon dispelled, tor as soon as this work was finished he recommen- ced his old erratic mode of life,and was often‘absentlfor weeks together er, leaving his wife alone, yet not unprotected. for since hislmarriage old Nero, a favorite hound, was al- ways leit at home as her guardian. He was a noble dogâ€"a cross be- tween lhe old Scottish deerhound and the bloodhound, and would hunt an Indian as well as a deer or b'ea'r, whieh Tom said. was a prool the lngius was a sort o’warmint, or why should the brute beast take to hunt’em, nat'ral likeâ€"him that took no notiCe ‘0’ white men? One clear, cold morning; about 2 years after their marriage, Susan was awakened by a’ loud crash, Immedlately succeeded by Nero's deep haying, She renolleoted that she had shot him‘in the house as usual the night before. Supposing he had winded some solitary wolle or bear prowling around the but; and effected his escape, she took little notice of the circumstance :- but a few moments after ,came a shrill wild cry, which made her bloo-I run cold. To spring lrom her bed, throw on her clothes. and rush from the not was the work of a minute. She no longer doubted what the hound was in pursuit of. Fearlul thoughtsshot through her brain: she called wildly on Nero, and to her Joy he came dashing through the thick nnderwood. As the dog drew near she saw that he gallopé’d heavily, and carried in his mouth some large dark c'reatu'regl Her brain reeled ; she felt a cold and sickly shudder dart through her llmbs. But Susan was a hun- tter’s daughter. and all her life had ib‘e‘en accustomed to witness scenes ‘of danger and of horror, and in this lsehool had learned to subdue the fi’a't'ural' ti'm'r‘ditv Of her chaf'acier'. With‘ a powerful effort she recover-J ed herself, just as Nero dropped at her leet a little lnrlian child, ape pa‘rently between‘ three" and four years old. She bent down oVer him. but there was no sound or mo- tion; she placed her hand on his little naked chest ;- the heart within had ceased to‘beat--'he Was ld'ead l1 The deep marks of the dog’s fangs were visible on the neck, but the body was untorn.‘ Old Nero I’in {wretchéa béing'forlorn,v And I ask great God’s ontnicent might, William I hgre i_n f_h§s ayful plight? Why am 1 here in this awful pligh Why was I 03%: born? But no nigg'fifi‘e isfieigned tq me ; And I bélieve I h‘mie a. soul to éave, And that God knows allâ€"its a, mystery! That he made me to commit iniquityl And be hurled to a; felon’s grave! Theré itgalg on my éargn‘my troubled sleep In plaintive m‘firmu'rs bo'rne, ‘ An fingel’s voicé which says, “Ethan, weep; Anflalwayg‘ in remembrance keep_ ‘ Slggping, waking! 13;: as: a‘gd‘ night, WRh wean-fled stop and slow, I count the dreary moment’s flight. And long for the welcome morning light To relieve my dismal vwoe, Or‘if gin-9d natnrq prompt? repose, And slee‘p Would refreshment seem, On my lonely pallet my limhs I dispose, And perhaps drop off in a fitful doze, To awake in’ a; horrilfle dream. As_I__p_ace my gloomy ce_11 91: night THE HUNTER’S WIFE: That n'fz'x'ri wife: made to mournI” ETHAN ALLEN. gfimim. “a "‘ L‘et Sound Reason weigh more with us than Popular Opinion.” RICHMOND HILL, FRIDAY,VFEBRUARY 21, 1868. a band of lndif if‘l‘migh‘twhe ' the neighbourhoodfiShe airtight so? rou-fully to the hm, and .V employed herself in blocking up the windowgl or rather the hole where the win-l dow had been, for the pewerful; hound had in his leap dashed out‘ theentlre frame, and shattered it‘ To pieces». When this was finished Susan dug a grave, and in it laid the Indian boy. She made it ciose to the hut, for she could not bear that wolves should devour those delicate limbs. and she knew thati there it would be Safe. The next‘ day Tom returned. He had been very unsuccessful. and intended setting out again In a few days in a diflerent direction. Susan he1 said; when he had heard her Sadt story, I wish you'd lel’ the child} wl:e.er the dog killed him. The squaw’s nigh sartain to come baCk a seekin' for the body. and .’tis a pity the poor crittvr should be dis- Beside the lngins will be high sar- tin to put it down to us; whereas, if so be as they’d found the body ’pon the spot, maybe they’d onder stand as ’twas an accident like,’ for they're unkimmon cunning war- mint, though they a'nt got sense‘ like Christians. - Why do‘ you think the poor woman came here 7 said Sudan. I neVer knew an Indian squaw so near the hut. be- fore. See fancied a dark shadow flitted across‘ her husband's brow. He made no replv ;' and on her repeating the question, said angrily .._hnw shnuld'he’ know? "l‘was‘ as well to ask for a bear’s reason as an lngin's. Having scarcely fastened up Nero, Susan withija heavy heart, proceeded to exag'nin'é the. ground round the hut. J‘njseveml places she observed the impression of a small moccasoned foot, but not a child’s. The traejrs were deeply marked, Eunlikeihe usual light, elastic tread of an Indian. From this circumstancef‘Susan easily in- ferred thatthe \ imajn had‘ been carrying her chil «when attacked by the dog. Thfie was" nothing to shew Whv she hafi‘fiome so near the hut:' most p >ny the hopes of some [jetty Elqfiier had hee’njhe Tom only stayed at home long enough to mend the broken 'win- dew. and plant _a small spot of Indian corn, and then Set out, tell: ing Susanna”; to' expect him home in: less than a month. If that sciuaw comes this way again, he her duty t'o'bz said, as maybe she will, jist ‘pnt ships they dic out any broken victua'ls you’ve a- ‘deISanure she got for the poor critture ;‘ though ‘of sorrow. 1 maybe she wont dome, for they ln- delicatelv for gins‘ be unkiminon skeary, _S‘usan peared léuigu w'ondered at his taking an interest gabiqorb'ed in' c in the woman, and often thought :fiindlt1er bust 01 that dark lobk shé' had; noticed. the first 3556 land of Tom's unwillingness to hope of ever‘ lspeak on the subject. the’ never life, This ( knmtfthaf on his last hunting ex-. meu'gh'eve‘r) pedition, when hiding som‘e skins“ [he'nefit m‘or'l which he intended to fetch on' his? 011' the trail, return; he" had obs'erVed an' Indian were c‘ro'ssin; watching him. and had shot; him hound suddet with as little‘ mercy as he would them, and W; ha‘ve'shoWn to’a \voll‘. Oh Tom’s ‘At firstlh’er: return 10 the spot the body was crossed the it gone , and in the salt damp soil but a long m wasth'e mark of an Indians sq'uaw’s the sad truth to a savage li they lay (in 1 WIN] their [hit for Susan (ml; bed of dried; l fused to occul stood with his" large. bright eyes fixed at: the face" of his mistress! lawnin‘g on her, 21‘s if he expected to be praised for! What he had done and sefémed to" wonder why she looked so terrified. But Susan spurned him from her; and the fierce animal, who Would have pulled down n’n Indian, ‘ as, he would a deer, crouched humbly at at the young woman‘s leet. Susan {carried the little‘aboy gently in her larms to the hut, and laid it on her ‘own bed. Her first impulse was to seize a loaded rifle that hung over the fireplace, and shoot the" hound; and yet she felt. she could‘ not do it, for in the lone life she led the faithful animal seemed like a dear and valued friend, who loved and watched over her, as if aware of the precious charge en- trusted to him. She thought also of what her husband would say, when on his return he should find his old companion dead. busan had neverj seen To‘m‘ rousé ed, To her he had ever .shewn nothing but. kindness; yet she fear~ ed as well as loved him, for there was a fire in those dark eyes “that told of deep wildfpassion's hidden in his breast, and, she knew that the lives of a whole tribe of indians would be light in the balance against that of his lavorite hound. to_ wapdgrfayflfrégn _hc_)m£_!. fearing The afternoon of the third day after Tom’s departure, as Sasan' was sitting at work. she heard something scratching and whining at the door. Nero, who was by her side, evincel no signs of anger, ,butran to lhe door, showing his white teeth, as was his custom when pleased. Susan unberred it when to her asthnishment the ’ two deerhounds her husband had taken with him walked into the hut, look- ing weary and soiled. , At first she thought, Tom might have killed a deer not far from home, and had brought her a fresh supply of venié son; but no one was there. She rushed from the hat, and soon, breathless and terrified, reached the squatter-'8 cabin. John Wilton and his three sons had just- returned from the clearings, when Susan ran into their comlortable kitchen her long black hair streaming on her shoulders, and her wild and blob'dsho’t Eye‘s: gette her. the ap- pearance of amaniac. In 31 few. to them the éau’se-ol her terror‘and jmpk‘ged them tenet of} immedide; ly in steal-ch of her husband} it Was in vain they' told her of the usalessness of going a‘t that time-â€" of the impossibility of following ,a' trail \in the dark, he said é'lt’e would go herself; s e felt sure of finding him; and at last they were obliged to use force' to pi'event her leaving the house. The next morn- ing at daybreak Wilton and his two sons were mounted, and ready to set out, intending to take Nero with themi butnothing Could in- duce him to leave his mistress; he iesisted passively for some time; until one of the young men at- tempted to pass a rope round his neck, to drag him away; then his forbearance vanished ; he " sprung on his tormentor._ threw hirn down, and would have strangled him ifSusan had not been present. Finding it impossible to make Nero aCcomp'an'y them, they; left Without. him. but had' not pro ceeded many miles’before he and his mistress were at their side. They begged Susafi’Jore turn, told her of the hardships she must en- dure. and ol the inconvenience she would be tothem. it was of no avail; she had but one answer. I ‘ am a hunter‘s daughter, and a bun- ter’s wife. She told them that knowing how useful Nero would be to them in their search, she had secretly taken a horse and followed ‘ them. The party rode first to Tom Cooper’s but, and there having dis- mounted," leading their horses through“ the lbrest,’ followed the trail, as only men lo‘ng accustomed to a savage life‘can do. At night they lay on the ground. covered will] their thick bear skin cloaks; ' for Susan only they heaped up a flied ofdried le'aves; 'but she re- ‘fused to occupy it, saying it was her duty to bear the same hard- ships they did. Ever sinCe their departure she had shown no sign of sorrow. Although slight and delicately formed. she never ap- peared latigtie her whole soul was absorbed! in' one longing: desireâ€"â€"to find" her husbands b‘o‘dy ; for lrom the first she had abandoned the hope of ever again seeier trim in' life. This desire supported __ her through every everything. E'ai‘lv t'he' heft morning" they were again on the trail. About noon, as they were crossing a small brook, the hound suddenly dashed away front them, and Was lost in the thicket. ‘At first they fanéiedthéymight have < crossed the track of a deer or wolfi but a long mournlui howl soon told' they were soon convinced. horses farther. they tethered them to a tree. and set oll again on foot. They lost sight ofthe bound; but still from' time to tirneheard his loud baying far away. At last theyfanci ed it soupdednearer instead of be,- coming less distinCt; and (ii this They still went on in the direction whence the. sound proceeded. until they saw Nero sitting with his fore paws against the .trunk of a tree. 'no longer mouthing like a well- irained hound. but; yelling ,like a fury. They looked up in the tree but could see hoth’it’i‘g; until at last Edward espie'd a , large hollow about hall way up the trunk. l was right, you see. he said I Alter all, it's nothing but a bear; but we may as we” shoot the}, brute that has given us so mudhflrbuble. They set to worlg immediately with their axes [to fell the tree. It began to totter. When a dark object they could not tell what in the dim twi- :light, crawled from the place of concealment to the extremity of a ‘ branch, and irom thence sprungjnw to the next tree. Snatchinr.‘y up their . rifles, they both fired jogs/thenwh‘en'i to their astonishment. inatead of a ‘ bear, ayoung Indian sduaw, with a .Wlld yell, Jl'eli to the ground. They ran to the spot where she lay motionless, and carried her to the borders ol thewood where they had that morning dismounted. Richard Jilted her up on his horse. and springing himselt into the saddle, carried the almost lifeless body be- fore hint. : The poor creature never spoke} Several times they stopped, :thinltin'g she was dead :' h'er pulse only told the. spirit had no flown from its earthly tenement. When they reaéhed the river which had been crossed by them before, they ‘ washed the wounds, and sprinkled water on her face. This appeared to revive her; and when Richard again lifted her in his arms to place her on his home. he fancied he heard her mutteriu lroquo‘ me wordâ€"“revenzedl” it w‘a. a strange sight, these two” poWerlul‘ Ifoot, and by it’s' side a little child’s. He was sorry then for the deed he lhad doue : he thought of the grief lof the poor widow, and how it would be possible for her to live luritilshe could, reach her tribe. twho’ were far, far distant.‘ at the foot of the Rocky Mountains; and now to feel thatthrough his means, to'o; she had lost her child, put tho‘ughtsinto his mind that had never before found a place :there. He thought that one God had fortn- ed the red man as well as the wh‘ite-‘Jâ€"ofthe souls of the many Indians hurried into eternity by his unerring rifle; and they per- haps were more fitted for their happy hunting grounds than he brook lay the faithful dog o‘n‘ the dead body of his master, which was pierced to‘ the heart by an In- dian arrow. The murderer had apparently been afraid to’ approach on account of the dogs, for the body was lelt as it had fallenâ€"not even the rifle was gone. No sign of in- dians could be discovered save one small footprint, which was instant- ly pronounced to be that of a squaw Susan she‘wed no grief at tliosight ofthe body: she maintained the same forced calmness, and seemed comforted that it was found; Old Wilton stayed with her to remove all that now remained oi her darl- ing husband, and his two sorts for the white man's heaven, in this state of mind, every word his wife had said to him seemed a te- proaclt. and he was glad again to be alone in the forest with his rifle and his bounds. The afternoor'i of the third day after Tom’s departure, as Sitsan was sitting at work. she heard something scratching and whining at the door. Nero, who was by her side, evincel no signs of anger, butran to the door, showing his white teeth, as was his custom when pleased. Susan unbarred it when to her asthnishment the ’ two deerhounds her husband had taken with him walked into the hut, look- ing weary and soiled. , At first she thought, Tom might have killed a deer not far from home, and had brought her a fresh supply of venié son; but no one was there. She rushed from the ltut, and soon, breathless and terrified, reached the squatter's cabin. John Wilton and his three sons had just- returned from the clearings, when Susan ran into their comfortable kitchen her long black hair streaming on her shoulders, and her ' wild and blob'dsho’t eyed, gave her, the ,ap- pearance of amanisc. in a law it n. -o' oss' ‘u. . to them the cause-of her term ,and implored. them tose‘t of} immediate; ly in search of her husband- lt Wasin vain they told her of the usnlessness of going at that time-â€" of the impossibility of following ,a' trail in the dark, he said she would go herself; s 'e felt sure of finding him; and at last they were obliged to use force to pf'event her leaving the house. The next morn- ing at daybreak Wilton and his two sons were mounted, and ready to set out, intending to take Nero with themi butnothing eould in- duce him to leave his mistress; he resisted passively for some time; until one of the voting men at- tempted to pass a rope round his neck, to drag him away; then his forbearance vanished ; he sprung on his tormentor._ threw him down, and would have strangled him ifSusan had not been present. Finding it impossible to make Nero accompany them, they; left Without. him. but had' not pro needed many miles’before he and his mistress were at their side. They begged Susafi’Jore turn, told her of the, hardships she must en- dure. and of the inconvenience she would he tothem. ft was of no avail ; she had but one answer. I am a hunter‘s daughter, and a hun- ter’s wife. She told them that knowing how useful Nero would be to them in their search, she had secretly taken a horse and followed ‘ them. The party rode first to Tom Cooper’s hut, and there having dis- mounted," leading their _ horses through“ the forest, foliovtied' the trail, as only men lo‘ng accustomed to a savage life‘can do. At night they lay on the ground, covered wttli their thick bear skin cloaks; for Susan only they heaped up a bed ofdried le'aves; 'but she re- fused to occupy it, saying it was her d'uitytt'ob‘ear the same hard- ships they did. Ever sinCe their departure she had shown no sign of sorrow. Although slight and delicately formed, she never ap- peared latigue her whole soul was absorbed! in' one longing desireâ€"â€"to find.“ her husbands b‘o‘dy ; for from the first she had abandoned the hope of ever again seeing him“ in : again set out on the trail, which soon led them into the open’ p‘rari’e, where it was eaStly traced through the tall thick grass. The] continu- t ed riding all that afternoon, and ‘ the next morning by daybreak were again on the track. which they followed On the banks of a ' wide but shallow , stream. There they saw the remains ofa fire. One bf-the brothers thrust his hand _ among the ashes. which were still ' warm. I'hev crossed the river, and in the soft sand on the opposite * bank saw again the print of small tmoc'c‘ason‘ed footsteps. Here they ; were at a loss; for the rank prairie ' grass had been donsumed by one of those fearful fires so common. in the prairies. and in its stead grew short sweet herbage, there even = an Indian's eye could observe no trace.‘ They were on the point of abandoning the pursuit, When Richard]. the younger of the th, called. his brother's attention to Nero, who, had of his own ac- cord left his mistress to’ accom- pany'th‘em, as ifhe new underâ€" ‘ stood what they were about. The bound was trotting to and tro,‘with . thisinose to the ground, as it endea- ‘ Vouring to pick out. a cold scent“ , Edward laughed at his-'rotherland' ‘ I ‘ ‘ ’2‘ “o ‘v' II“... ' had come to drink at the" fiver. At la’s’tlte agreed to' follow Nero, who‘ was now canterlhg slowly ' across‘the prairie. The pace‘gra; duallv increased. until. on a spot ‘where the grass had grown more luxurianth than elsewhere, Nero threw up his. gave a deep bay, and started (off at so furious a pace, that althoughwell mounted; they had great difficulty in keeping up wtfh him. He soon brought them to the borders of another forest, where, finding it impossible to take their horses farther. they tethered them to a tree. and set ofl again on foot: They lost sight ofthe bound; but still from time to tirneheard his loud haying far away. At last theyfanci ed it soupdednearer instead of be,- {coming less distinCt; and of this :ihey were soon convinced. They still went on in the direction whence. the. sound proceeded. until they saw Nero sitting with his fore paws against the .trunk of a tree. on longer mouthing like a well- trained hound. but, yelling ,like a fury. They looked up in the tree but c’ould see hoth’it’i‘g; until at last Edward espie'd a , large hollow about half way up the trunk. l was right, you see. he said , Alter all, 1it's nothing but a bear; but we m’av . as well shoot the}, brute that has given us so mucfhflrhuble. They set to work, immediately with their axes to fell the tree. It began to . totter. When a dark object they could not tell what in th‘lc (lim twi- :lignt, crawled from the place of concealment to the extremity of a branch, and from thence sprungjn- to the next tree. Snatching up their rifles, they both fired :toge/tliermhen to their astonishment. inatead of a bear, ayoung Indian sduaw, with a .Wlld yell, (fell to the ground. They ran to the spot where she lay motionless, and carried her to the borders of thewood where they had that morning dismounted. Richard ililted her up on his horse. and as; springing himself into the saddle, ‘caf'ried the almost lifeless body be- fore him. i The poor creature never spoke} Several times they stopped. Ithinliin'g she was dead :' h'er pulse ,only told the. spirit had no flown from its earthly tenement. life. This desire SlipD'Otled __ lit“? When they reaéhed the river which ,tlirou'gli'eve‘ry‘ everv'th’ing. E'at‘lv had been crossed by them before, the heft morning they were again ltliey ‘washcd the wounds, and ton the ‘trail. About noon, as thjev sprinkled water on her face. This were crossing a small brook, the appeared to revive her; and when l hound suddenly dashed away from Richard again lifted her in his arms them, and Was lost in the thicket. to place bet on his horse, he fancied ‘At first they fancied’th‘eymight have < he heard her mutter in lroquoi me - vv-u- "nu nuaugc angul, “lama IV\".I puwcuul ‘, for not far from the mentendingso‘carefiflly the being TERMS $1.00 in Advance Whole No. 501. ‘thing; They ' .e'detl‘ nczt‘itig tell their rh‘O’u'rfllul aleâ€"*‘Susan‘ aTready understood it but 100 clea‘rlfl She Qbegged them to leave th'e Ihe‘l‘nfiian woman With her. You ha‘Ve no' One, she said to tend and watch her as V[ Can do; Basides it is not fight that lysho‘u'ld lay Suclra bu‘rth‘en oft ydu. Altltot‘igh’ u’r‘iwillingr to" lirr’tp'ri‘s‘ié (in her the painful task of’hurein‘g h‘ér =hué‘bnnd’l murdénvsflhev could Hot buta‘llow that‘slte was right g, Van‘d ,see’lh‘g how earnestly Sher» dgsitf'iil Ell, at last consented fo'leatr‘e the jdiah' woman' with eer. 'FOr rifaiiy Ilong weeks“ ; Susan nursed h'e‘tf ‘charge as tenderly as if she” I lied bhen her siSter. A! first she lay almost motionless, and rarely spo‘ké‘ their she grew delerio’us. anyd raved wildly; Susap fertun‘ate‘ly petild not nnderstand what she said, blitl often tl'J'rn'ed 'shudderin‘g‘ly away when the Indiah woifi‘an‘ vim'u'ld strive to rise from her bed; a'q'u‘l move her arms as ifdrawing a Bb‘n‘ii or yell wille; a'mlc'ower it}: t‘é‘tt‘dt' beneath the clothes, reactingin her delirium the fearful scenes tlirnugfl which 9110' had passedgi By degféé‘fi‘ reason retu'r‘n‘ed. ;' éhe giét‘tft‘r'a‘lljr g'oé lief; lot, but seemed resfigslfi’ arid' "ith'hapfi; 132d cloul'd biétzr the eight of flew. a ....v.. N... w "my- ... .y....__v.;, "m... be wide aebideutal‘fy followed - his: mix.- tress into the ibom fiber-e she lay. One mot-hing Susan] missed hei- ;, she: gawk; ed around the hlfthbfit she was" 611e, without having talka'n faré‘virell 0 her kind benefdctreééf. - V A few years after Sirs'aii (no longer pretty Susan, for time and grief had done their work) heard ' late one night a hurried knogli, whi'eh wiasrepeat- ed several times-before she (would u. fas- ten the door, each time more loudly Ithan before. ‘ She dalled to a’sk‘who Vitwas at that hour of the night. A few hurried words in Iroquois were the reply, and Susan congratulated herself on having spoken before unbarlir’igi the dnor- I But on listening ,again, she distinctly heard the same Voiee s'a‘y, Quiche-quick l and recognized it as the Indian woman’s whom she had nursed. :l‘he'door was instantly opened, when the scfuaw rushed into the hut, seizedSusgn by' the arm, and made signs to her to. come away. She was too much excited to ‘ remember then the few words of English Ashe had picked up V. when living with the 'white woman. Expressing her meshing by gestures with" a clearness peculiar to the Indians, she dragged rather than led Susan from the hut. They; had just reached the edge of the forestwhen the wild yell of the Ind'd'is scunded in their ears. Having gone with Susan a little way into the forest her guide left her. For-nearly four hours she laythere half- :dead with cold and terror, not daring to move from her place of concealment. {She saw the flames of the dwelling where so r .nany lonely hours. had beén‘ passed l'risin'g' above the trees,‘ and heard; the shrill “whdops” of the retiring Indians} Nero, who was lying by her side. sudden? ly rose and gave low growl. Sil‘entl' a' dark figure came‘glidingrI among the gi'ees‘ directly to the spot where she lay. 'She’ gave herself up for lost ; but it waé‘ nib; Indian womzin‘Wlio came to‘ her: and dropped at her‘feet a bag of money", .th€ remains ofher late husbands sailings. The grateful creature knew where it Was kept; and whilst the Indiansjw‘ere busy examining the rifles and' other articles more interesting to them, had carried it off unobserved. Waving her arm around to showythat all was now, quiet, she pointed in the direction of Wilton’s house, and was again lost among the :tr'ee's.’ , they had a'fe'vv Home before §bfight to slay, and endeaxiouring to sta‘nch the bloorl that flowed‘from' wounds which they had made! Yet so it was, it Would have appeared to“ them a sin to leave the Indian two“- man Po die; yet they felt no reg‘ ,‘morse at having in'flicied 'théWoutid‘ and doubtless would have ' “been. better pleased had it been mortal; ‘but they would net have murdered a wounded en'emv,‘ even an Indian Warrior, Still less a' squawt- The party Continued their journey until midniglh, when they stopped to‘rest their jaded horses. Having Wrap- ped the squaw in their bear-skins, they lay down themselves with no covering save the clothestthey. Wore. ‘They were in no want ofaprovisions, ’as noi knowing when they ""ntght return,- they (had taken a good sup- ply of bread anddried Venisoh‘fnot wishing to loose'anv pre'ciou‘itime in seeking food whilst on the trial. The brandy‘still remaining in‘ their flasks they preserved lorthe ustht thei‘r captive. The evening of the :lollowin'g day they reached the ‘trapper’s hut, where they Were not alittte surprised to find S'usztn‘j.‘ She told them that although 'John‘, ‘Wtjl- ton had begged her to live With them, she could not bear to leave the. spot where everything remind- ed her of one to think of whpnyygns now her only consolation. and that whilstshe had Nerovshe'teargd no- Day was just breaking when, Susan reached the squatter’s cabin. Having heard the-sad story, Wilton and two of» his sons star ted immediately for the spot’. Nothing was to be seen save a heap of ashes. The party had ‘ appurteth con‘ sisted of only three or four Indians ; but: a powerfhl tribe being in the neighbour- hood, they saw that it would be too hazardous td follow them. __From this time Su'sao lived with theWiltons. She weS'as a dhughter to the old man, and a sister to his sons, who often. said ; ‘That as {hr as they were eoncemed, the In- dians had] never done a kindlier action than in burning down Susan Cooper’s butt