while Terry sang:

The West! the rolling, billowy West!

An ocean the winds cannot stir from its rest,
Where wild-flowers purple each foaming crest,
And beauty is waiting to be possessed.

II.

On right, on left, above, below,

Sprang up at once the lurking foe.-SCOTT.

The smoke of battle and the echoes of its recent thunders still lingered among Missouri's beautiful hills. In this State, as in others, lawless bands kept up their work of terror, and often of bloodshed. Guerillas prowled along the river, awaiting the unwary steamer. In the dense forest, or near the lonely road, the bushwhacker, half concealed by the thick underwood, waited to plunder and avenge.

The Prairie Flower carried more than the usual number of passengers. Families who had found refuge in St. Louis during the war, were returning to their homes in the interior of the State. Some of the late "Secesh," accepting the situation, were seeking again their charred and blackened homes, sullenly submitting to begin life anew, and in utter destitution, at a period when they had hoped to be independent of its burdens and prepared for its pleasures. Three fourths of the passengers thus returning were still rebels at heart. In a secluded niche of their imagination's temple they worshipped the "Lost Cause."

"I dunno' what we uns is gwine ter du," whined a tall, gaunt female, smoking a very musty pipe, and with the visible memory of snuff still clinging around her shrivelled lips. "Guv'ment tuk away all eour niggers. My chillen neber dun a day's work in deir mortal lives; an neow we're turned out ter root or die."

An opportunity soon occurred for testing the loyalty of these returning Missourians. The steamer, running short of fuel, neared the river-bank at a point where the thick black forest came down to the very water and the

ped in the rapid and surging current.

Having negotiated with the owner the purchase of a woodpile, which the captain had spied half hidden on the bank, with the usual active services of the "roustabouts," it was put 66 on board," and the steamer was about to resume her way.

"Cast off that bow-line-lively!" ordered the mate.

A negro sprang ashore, and, as he was loosing the rope, the sharp report of a rifle from the near wood startled the crew and passengers of the Prairie Flower. A wreath of smoke shone white in the gloom of the wood; the roustabout staggered forward with his hand upon his breast, caught convulsively at a low branch of the tree to which the bow-line had been tied, then fell backward with a groan, dead. Ere the passengers, who had gathered upon the upper deck to witness the "wooding-up," could recover from their surprise, out from behind trees, down from the spreading branches, and up from the tall grass, appeared about seventy well-armed men. A moment ago, no sound came from the densely wooded shore, save the chirp of the birds in the boughs. Now it is thronged by as motley a crowd of riotous ruffians " as ever scuttled ship or cut a throat." Each had his rifle or musket, revolver, and the dreaded bowie.

Nearly all were clothed in rags and the traditional slouched hat of the Confederacy. Their pantaloons below the knee hung in tatters, torn by the brush through which they had often been hunted. Many of them, shoeless, wore pieces of gunny-cloth bound around their feet, and tied with strips of bark.

"What's the capting of this yer' craft?" shouted the leader. He was a stout guerilla, in the prime of manhood, strength, and ruffianly fierceness, attired in tattered Confederate gray-a slouched hat with drooping brim; and black, unshorn hair fell to his shoulders. Striding down to the edge of the bank. he again demanded,

Ladies were pale and trembling, and some of the sterner sex were irresolute, while the danger was impending; though, when the fight had set in, nearly all bore themselves coolly. Others were praying, or cursing the "Guv'ment" for the war. Disorder and confusion were beginning to prevail.

The half-dozen blacks, armed with revolvers, reported to Captain Vincent at the head of the stairway.

"Clear every state-room of its occupant," shouted the Captain with electric ardor.

The roustabouts quickly performed the task. Flags and badges of "Secessia" were thrust into pockets. With many a flirt and flutter, the ladies of Confederate sympathies bounced into the saloon.

"Let all be quiet here, now," continued Vincent, peremptorily.

This order was so fully obeyed, more from surprise and curiosity than from intent, that the fall of a pin might have been heard.

Vincent posted the six roustabouts along the saloon, with orders to shoot the first person who entered a stateroom or created any disturbance. The ladies bridled, but all was very quiet.

66

Come, Cap, hooray-time's up!" was heard from the bank.

Captain Powell opened the officedoor, stepped out upon the deck, and walked to the rail near the paddle-box.

"Well, how is it, Cap? du they say heartily welcum?" chuckled the leader.

The Captain of the Prairie Flower saw that he could make but little more time, as the ruffians would be no longer restrained.

"Of course, there's only one answer," said the leader, nearing the gang-planks, the remainder of the band following him. "Haul down the rag, boys," pointing, at the same time, to the stars and stripes floating over the pilot-house.

"Hold!" shouted the Captain. "Under that flag I have sailed this river for

Twenty-two men, a dozen of whom were armed, hurried around the speaker. Upwards of forty male passengers, secessionists, or indifferent, remained with the ladies and children in the lower portion of the saloon.

On the main deck, McCann, Dumfrees, and the mate were arming the crew. Every roustabout had a weapon of some kind-a musket, an axe, or a hay-fork. It was known they would get no quarter if taken, and the dead old man at the foot of the tree, whose son was among them on the steamer, imparted the silent bitterness of revenge to their determination.

"Lieutenant McCann," said Vincent, as that officer leaped up the staircase, "here are volunteers for you. I have no use for them. I and these deckhands will keep order here."

down in defeat, travels over the dead body of John Powell."

This reverse astonished the ruffians, who for a moment admired the dignity of the old man. It was but for a moment.

"So the white-headed ole fox has cum possum on us, eh?" yelled the owner of the tattered gray, instantly raising his rifle and firing. But Captain Powell had darted into the cabin, and the ball shattered only the panel behind him.

"Well, now, lads," said the leader, fairly foaming with rage, "since they want fight, give 'em their fill."

The leader dashed down the gangplanks, followed by his band. “Fire!" shouted the ringing voice of McCann from the pilot-house. A loud report from the deck, a dozen shots from above, and at least fifteen guerillas fell from the planks into the muddy stream. The dead sank in the swift current; some of the wounded crawled up the

ranks, and sprang back behind the trees close at hand, bearing a few of their wounded with them. Others lay exposed on the bank, yelling and moaning.

At this opportune moment Captain Vincent, exposing himself to a shower of bullets, severed the bow-line with a single blow of an axe, and the straining engine apprised the rebels that their prey was escaping. With a yell of vengeance, they dashed out again on the bank, down the gang-planks, most of their number gaining the steamer's decks just as she got under way. They now assailed the doors with the butts of their muskets. A fierce hand-to-hand fight upon the main deck-a dozen of the crew fell-another bloody struggle at the foot of the staircase. The forces of the steamer at last gave way, retreat ing up the stairway, bearing with them the bleeding form of Dumfrees. A party were battering the saloon doors. With a crash through the skylight above came the tall form of McCann from the upper deck. His command, seeing they were needed below, followed him by the same "short-cut."

The steamer's whole force were now in the saloon. At every triumph of the guerillas, the cheers of the secesh passengers in the cabin reached the ears of the guerillas, inspiring them with renewed courage.

Would that steamer never come?

"Bring up that spar from the deck!" shouted the leader. The order was obeyed. The immense spar, carried by twenty men, was placed upon the saloon deck.

"Now, boys, batter away-all together!"

Crash! The main door of the saloon fell, and the guerillas poured in.

"Back!" cried McCann, dealing blows with his sabre right and left.

"Down with him!" yelled the gueril

la-chief, following after in the "swath " cut by the trooper, and aiming a blow with the butt-end of his rifle. Vincent parried the stroke skilfully with his sword, and returned it with a lunge at the guerilla's heart. The blade, in turn, was parried by a musket, and grazed the cheek of the leader, inflicting only an ugly gash.

The roustabouts, with cocked revolvers, now reinforced the crew, and fired to good purpose. At last the shrill whistle of the Emerald, near by, was heard by the paralyzed guerillas; and, turning, they saw within a cable's length the loaded transport bristling with bayonets. These were not times when prisoners captured in such enterprises would have been treated with the honors of war; and the guerillas saw that the game was up, except for those who could swim.

"Overboard!" shouted the guerillachief, as they slid like turtles into the water and struck out for shore; which, being but a few yards off, many of them reached in safety, while a few were still further "punished" by shots from the. roustabouts.

The guerilla-chief sullenly lingered a moment behind his men.

"Had we not lost, I'd like to have roasted yer for this cut on my. cheek. As it is, take my card."

He lunged desperately at Vincent, who stood leaning against a state-room door, supposing the contest ended, and not over-anxious to murder enemies who were already defeated. Ere he could parry, the ruffian had caught him by the throat, ripped out a bowie-knife, and

"Oh! say 'By your l'ave,' man, when you hand your card to a gentle

My friend is very small, but I hope no one will take offence at that, for we are surely too enlightened in our day to judge persons, who are thus introduced to us, by their size, and to fancy that stature has any thing to do with right or wrong. We would at once revert to the modest height of a Cæsar, a Frederick, and a Napoleon, and remember that if Justice can incline her scales on either side, to gratify universal love, she would do it in favor of the small and the weak. That my friend wears nothing but deep mourning, ought to fill us with tender sympathy, as soon, at least, as we learn his cause for the apparent eccentricity day by day some one of his nearest kin falls into murderous hands, and loses his life by violence. It is for these unfortunate brethren that he wears mourning, as the Black Friars of old were shrouded in their sombre garbs in memory of daily-dying mankind.

I am sorry to have to add that the sorrowful creature is man's bitterest and most relentless enemy, and that man returns the feeling with an intensity and a passionate energy which has its irresistibly ludicrous side, when we think of the ill-matched antagonists in this life-long battle. On one side man, with his body fearfully and wonderfully made, and his mind that grasps the universe in its boundless power; on the other side, a being so small, that, without great effort, it can hardly be seen; which has no weapons but those that are Nature's own gift, and let us confess it at once-a pair of legs of wonderful capacity to verify the truth of the lines, that

"He who fights and runs away,

May live to fight another day." The battle is daily renewed: its guerdon is nothing less than life or death. The diminutive champion of his race will not be satisfied till he has tasted

blood, and man does not rest till he has slain his adversary.

My first acquaintance with him was made in Italy. I had just crossed the Alps and come from the Splügen down to the charming little town of Chiavenna. The huge, lumbering stage had rolled into the deserted square; the inside passengers had come out from their prison-like hold, the horses had been taken away, and I was still fast asleep; at last the conducteur came with his lantern, and waked me up. I made haste to get down from the coupé, which I had had all to myself, and to hurry into the hotel-an ancient palace. After long searching, I roused a venerable dame, in gorgeous night-apparel, who showed me, through dark corridors and empty halls, into a vast room, where I was to sleep. I was young and inexperienced then, and fancied that the door without locks, and windows without bolts, might admit lurking dangers, without thinking of the blood-thirsty enemy that was lying in wait for me elsewhere. The old lady reassured me, by calling upon the Madonna at the head of the bed, that such a thing as a robbery had never been known at the Chiave d'Oro; and in a wonderfully short time after her disappearance I was calling upon Morpheus. But, alas! I was calling in vain. My wearied limbs ached and longed for repose; my eyes would not and could not keep open, and I yearned for the sleep which two days' and two nights' incessant travelling had made impossible for so long a time. But all in vain. No sooner did I turn over and compose myself, than a slight, gentle touch would make me aware of the presence of another being in my bed; my enemy would try here, and try there, as if to see how far he might count upon my forbearance, or where I might be most vulnerable. It was rascally to treat me so, and attack