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a creek, on one side of which arose a precipitous hill, some two miles in length, which I knew the wounded animal would never ascend. Half a mile farther on, another hill reared its bleak and barren head, on the opposite side of the rivulet. Once fairly in the gorge, there was no exit, save at the upper end of the ravine. Here then I must intercept my game, which I was able to do, by taking a near cut over the ridge, that saved at least a mile.
Giving one parting shout to cheer my dog, Cherokee bore me headlong to the pass. I had scarcely arrived, when, black with sweat, the stag came laboring up the gorge, seemingly totally reckless of our presence. Again I poured forth the ‘leaden messenger of death,' as meteor-like he flashed by us. One bound, and the noble animal lay prostrate within fifty feet of where I stood. Leaping from my horse, and placing one knee upon his shoulder, and a hand upon his antlers, I drew my hunting-knife; but scarcely had its keen point touched his neck, when, with a sudden bound, he threw me from his body, and my knife was hurled from my hand. In hunter's parlance, I had only creased him. I at once saw my danger; but it was too late. With one bound he was upon me, wounding and almost disabling me, with his sharp feet and horns. I seized him by his wide-spread antlers, and sought to regain possession of my knife; but in vain ; each new struggle drew us farther from it. Cherokee, frightened at this unusual scene, had madly fled to the top of the ridge, where he stood looking down upon the combat, trembling and quivering in every limb.
The ridge road I had taken, had placed us far in advance of the hound, whose bay I could not now hear. The struggles of the furious animal had become dreadful, and every moment I could feel his sharp hoofs cutting deep into my flesh; my grasp upon his antlers was growing less and less firm; and yet I relinquished not my hold. The struggle had brought us near a deep ditch, washed by the heavy fall rains, and into this I endeavored to force my adversary; but my strength was unequal to the effort; when we approached to the very brink, he leaped over the drain ; I relinquished my hold, and rolled in, hoping thus to escape him. But he returned to the attack, and throwing himself upon me, inflicted numerous severe cuts upon my face and breast, before I could again seize him. Locking my arms around his antlers, I drew his head close to my breast, and was thus, by a great effort, enabled to prevent his doing me any serious injury. But I felt that this could not last long; every muscle and fibre of my frame was called into action, and human nature could not long bear up under such exertion. Faltering a silent prayer to heaven, I prepared to meet my fate.
At this moment of despair, I heard the faint bayings of the hound. The stag, too, heard the sound, and springing from the ditch, drew me with him. His efforts were now redoubled, and I could scarcely cling to him. Yet that blessed sound came nearer and nearer! O how wildly beat my heart, as I saw the hound emerge from the ravine, and spring forward, with short quick bark, as his eye rested on his game. I released my hold of the stag, who turned upon this new enemy. Exhausted and unable to rise, I still cheered the dog, that, dastard-like, fled before the infuriated animal, who, seemingly despising such an enemy, again threw himself upon me. Again did I succeed in throwing my arms around his antlers, but not until he had inflicted several deep and dangerous wounds upon my head and face, cutting to the
bone. Blinded by the flowing blood, exhausted and despairing, I cursed the coward dog, who stood near, baying furiously, yet refusing to seize his game. O how I prayed for Bravo! The thoughts of death were bitter. To die thus, in the wild forest, alone, with none to help! Thoughts of home and friends coursed like lightning through my brain. At that moment of desperation, when Hope herself had fled, deep and clear, over the neighboring hill, came the bay of my gallant Bravo! I should have known his voice among a thousand! I pealed forth, in one faint shout, On, Bravo ! on!' The next moment, with tiger-like bounds, the noble dog came leaping down the declivity, scattering the dried autumnal leaves like a whirlwind in his path. No
pause he knew, but fixing his fangs in the stag's throat, at once commenced the struggle.
I fell back, completely exhausted. Blinded with blood, I only knew that a terrific struggle was going on. In a few moments all was still, and I felt the warm breath of my faithful dog, as he licked my wounds. Clearing my eyes from gore, I saw my late adversary dead at my feet; and Bravo, ‘my own Bravo,' as the heroine of a modern novel would say, standing over me. He yet bore around his neck a fragment of the rope with which I had tied him. He had gnawed it in two, and following his master through all his windings, arrived in time to rescue him from a horrid death.
I have recovered from my wounds. Bravo is lying at my feet. Who does not love Bravo? I am sure I do; and the rascal knows it! Don't you, Bravo ? Come here, Sir!
E. R. W.
Who had escaped the tomb, could wit prevail,
And to that feast return, divided quite
1. PIERPONT, AUTHOR OF 'AIRS OF PALESTINE, ETC.
Call ye these 'ruins? What is ruined here?
Seems it not, rather, a majestic fane,
Mysterious ? Ay; for, if ye ask the age
Nor could old ocean's monarch, while he dwelt
I've seen seven columns, standing now at Corinth, On five of which — for two bear nothing upSome portion of the entablature remains; And that old ruin the same style displays Of severe Doric beauty, that prevails In these grave works of hoar antiquity. But to what god rose the Corinthian fane, Or when, or by what architect, 't was reared, How much below the time of Sisyphus, Who laid the corner-stone of Corinth's state, How much above the æra of Timoleon, Whom that proud state commissioned to dethrone The tyrant Dionysius, and convey A Grecian colony to Syracuse 'Tis all unknown. The ruins there, and here, of the same genius speak, and the same age; And in the same oblivion both have slept For more than two milleniums. Roman bards + Have of the rosaries of Pæstum sung, Twice blooming in a year. And he who first Held in his hands the empire of the world -Augustus Cæsar - visited this spot, As I do now, to muse among these columns, Of times whose works remain, whose history's lost.
And yet the palace of that same Augustus, Built, as you know, upon the Palatine, With all that Rome could do to hold it up Beneath the pressure of the hand of Time, Is now all swept away, even to the floor. This little piece of marble, jaune antique, Which now I use to keep these Sibyl leaves, (As she of Cumæ cared not to keep hers) From floating off, on every wind that blows, Before the printer gives them leave to fly, Once formed a part of that same palace floor. Among the weeds and bushes that o'erhang The giant arches that the floor sustained, I picked it up. Those arches, and the mass Of bricks beneath them, and the floor above, And bushes as aforesaid hanging o'er, And, with their roots, helping the elements To pry apart what Roman masons joined, And at the lower creature for the use Of the superior — converting thus Things inorganic, mortar, bricks, and stones, To soil, that it may feed organic life, Grass, flowers, and trees, that they, in turn, may serve As food for animals, and they for man, According to the eternal laws of God Are all, of Cæsar's palace, that remains.
* Placidum caput. – Virg. Æn. 1. 127.
But of this solemn temple, not a shaft