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Yea, victory! fair victory! our enemies' and ours!

And all the clouds are clasped in light, and all the earth with flowers.

Ah, still depressed and dim with dew; but yet a little

while,

And radiant with the deathless rose the wilderness shall

smile;

5 And every tender living thing shall feed by streams of

rest;

Nor lamb shall from the fold be lost, nor nursling from

the nest.

For aye, the time of wrath is past, and near the time of

rest,

And honor binds the brow of man, and faithfulness his

breast,

Behold, the time of wrath is past, and righteousness

shall be,

10 And the Wolf is dead in Arcady, and the Dragon in the sea!

how fair their feet: see Paul's Epistle to the Romans x. 15. - Arcady : Arcadia, which was a country famous for the simple happiness of its people, but overrun with wild beasts. — Dragon: it was formerly supposed that the ocean was full of dragons.

A-HUNTING OF THE DEER

CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER

CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER (1829-1900) was an American author. He had a keen, wholesome sense of humor, a sympathetic nature, and much literary taste. Among his entertaining books are "My Summer in a Garden" and "Back-Log Studies."

Early one August morning a doe was feeding on Basin 5 Mountain.

The sole companion of the doe was her only child, a charming little fawn, whose brown coat was just beginning to be mottled with beautiful spots.

The buck, its father, had been that night on a long 10 tramp across the mountain to Clear Pond, and had not yet returned. He went to feed on the lily pads there.

The doe was daintily cropping tender leaves and turning from time to time to regard her offspring. The fawn had taken his morning meal and now lay curled up on a 15 bed of moss.

If the mother stepped a pace or two farther away in feeding, the fawn made a half movement, as if to rise and follow her. If, in alarm, he uttered a plaintive cry, she bounded to him at once.

It was a pretty picture, maternal love on the one part, and happy trust on the other.

The doe lifted her head with a quick motion. Had she heard something? Probably it was only the south wind

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in the balsams.

There was silence all about in the forest. With an affectionate glance at her fawn she continued picking up her breakfast.

But suddenly she started, head erect, eyes dilated, a 5 tremor in her limbs. She turned her head to the south; she listened intently.

There was a sound, a distinct, prolonged note, pervading the woods. It was repeated. The doe had no doubt now. It was the baying of a hound - far off, at the foot of the 10 mountain.

Time enough to fly; time enough to put miles between her and the hound before he should come upon her fresh trail; yes, time enough. But there was the fawn.

The cry of the hound was repeated, more distinct this 15 time. The mother bounded away a few paces. The fawn started up with an anxious bleat. The doe turned; she came back; she could n't leave it.

She walked away toward the west, and the little thing skipped after her. It was slow going for the slender legs, 20 over the fallen logs and through the rasping bushes. The doe bounded in advance and waited. The fawn scrambled after her, slipping and tumbling along, and whining a good deal because its mother kept always moving away from it.

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Whenever the fawn caught up, he was quite content to frisk about. He wanted more breakfast, for one thing; and his mother would n't stand still. She moved on

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continually; and his weak legs were tangled in the roots of the narrow deer path.

Suddenly came a sound that threw the doe into a panic of terror, —a short, sharp yelp, followed by a prolonged 5 howl, caught up and reëchoed by other bayings along the mountain side. The danger was certain now; it was near. She could not crawl on in this way; the dogs would soon be upon them. She turned again for flight. The fawn, scrambling after her, tumbled over, and 10 bleated piteously. Flight with the fawn was impossible.

The doe returned and stood by it, head erect and nostrils distended. Perhaps she was thinking. The fawn lay down contentedly, and the doe licked him for a moment. Then, with the swiftness of a bird, she dashed 15 away, and in a moment was lost in the forest. She went in the direction of the hounds.

She descended the slope of the mountain until she reached the more open forest of hard wood. She was going due east, when she turned away toward the north, 20 and kept on at a good pace.

In five minutes more she heard the sharp yelp of discovery, and then the deep-mouthed howl of pursuit. The hounds had struck her trail where she turned, and the fawn was safe.

25 For the moment fear left her, and she bounded on with the exaltation of triumph. For a quarter of an hour she went on at a slapping pace, clearing the bushes with

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